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scuttling · 2 months

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I Can Handle Me A Dangerous Man - Ch 4

Fandom: True Blood (TV) Pairings: Eric Northman/Female Reader or Eric Northman/OFC Word Count: 4,797 Tags: 18+, NSFW in later chapters, Flirting, Brief assault Summary: Cam believes she's being followed, and Eric intends to be the one to keep her safe.

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Cam goes for a run just after dark, when the sun has finally set and the stifling heat is a little more manageable. Her neighborhood is perfect for it, the streetlamps glowing soft yellow as she passes, the soles of her shoes hitting the sidewalk, then the pavement when she crosses the street. A few other locals walk their dogs, or take an after-dinner stroll, or sit on the porch with a nightcap, the blinking of fireflies illuminating their faces for a brief second.

It would be enjoyable, except she feels like someone’s watching her.

She already knows never to take the same path twice, something she adopted in Chicago as not just a woman alone, but one with a target on her back. Her preferred route would be down Wildwood, across to Poplar, and around a cul-de-sac of newly constructed homes, but that backs her up against a wall with nowhere to go if she’s cornered, so she nixes the thought immediately.

The path she ultimately takes makes no sense, and that’s intentional; if someone’s still watching her, or worse, following her, she’ll be able to pick them out relatively simply, if she listens to their mind. She takes a left where the sidewalk is considerably bumpier, something she would typically avoid, a right where a tow-truck is taking up much of the alley.

Tuning into her surroundings, she can pinpoint the thoughts of the man walking the German Shepherd across the street, the older couple on the porch swing a few houses down. She can also catch brief flashes of thought, people too far out of range to really hone in on, but that’s about all.

Unsatisfied, she decides to wrap up her exercise for the night, and she heads back in the direction of home; the closer she gets, the more at ease she feels, but she’s still alert and on the defensive in case she needs to be.

She’s almost half a block from her front door when her phone rings, and Pam’s name is announced through her headphones. She answers the call, breathing heavily.

“Hey, Pam,” she greets, but Pam nearly cuts her off, quick to get to the point.

“Eric asked me to check on you. He said he could… feel that something was wrong. Are you okay?” She slowly drawls that word, feeeeel, and Cam frowns, her pace slowing.

“Yeah, I’m okay… well, I felt like someone was following me a few minutes ago,” she says as an afterthought. “I’m out jogging and I felt that sensation of eyes on me, you know?”

“Are you getting that sensation now? How far are you from the bar?” Pam asks, her tone calm and even. Cam can barely hear her over the din of background noise usually associated with the club.

“No, I’m walking up to my front door now,” she tells her, pulling her keys from the pocket of her leggings. Before she inserts the key into the lock, she glances up in thought. “Do you want me to get in the car and drive over?”

“I think Eric would prefer it. I’ll wait for you in the parking lot,” she says, and then the line goes dead. Cam sighs.

“Okay, goodbye to you too,” she mutters to herself as she crosses the porch and goes down the stairs, making her way to the car.

Pam is waiting when she arrives, and she strides across the parking lot in sparkly red stilettos and a black dress as Cam gets out of the car. She pauses while Cam closes and locks the door behind her, then pivots on her heel when Cam walks toward the club.

“Ooh, do I get a bodyguard, now?” Cam teases when Pam falls into step beside her, their arms nearly brushing. Pam tosses her hair over her shoulder and huffs.

“I consider it more like babysitting,” she replies coolly, and when security opens the door for them, she lets Cam step over the threshold first. “But Eric is concerned, and until his worries are alleviated, I’m stuck with you.” She heads for the bar and asks for a glass of water, Pam on her heels.

“Well in that case, we should really get to know each other. I like piña coladas, getting caught in the rain,” Cam lists satirically, then takes a long glug of water. She turns, hoping Pam is wearing an expression of exasperation or something equally entertaining, but it’s Eric behind her now, and he looks incredibly serious.

“Someone was following you?” he asks, his eyes flicking over her face, her neck and shoulders where they’re exposed by the sports bra she wears. Cam shrugs and finishes her water.

“I can’t say for sure—I listened closely, but I couldn’t hear anyone, so if there was someone there, they weren’t human.” That darkens his eyes more than she thought possible, and he steps closer to her, crowding her against the barstool at her back.

“I don’t want you running alone at night anymore,” he says, his gaze on hers like he’s wishing his glamour worked on telepaths. “And stick to well-lit areas during the day. Ask Sookie to join you,” he suggests, and Cam nearly barks a laugh.

“Sookie, run? Only if something’s chasing her,” she says good-naturedly, but when she thinks about it, the hypothetical seems to hit a little too close to home. She shakes her head to clear the thought. “But I’ll ask Tara, or go to the gym, if that would be better.”

“That would be better,” Eric answers, voice softer, pleased that she didn’t fight him on the rule. “When you first asked for my protection, you said that you’d made enemies. Did you have a bodyguard in Chicago?”

“Nothing quite so formal,” she says, though she wants to laugh at the thought of being important enough for a bodyguard, especially when she just teased Pam about that very thing. “But I had clients who respected me who would keep an ear out, let me know if anyone was planning something that may jeopardize my safety.” Eric nods his head, and during that moment of silence, she steps a few inches closer to him. Her turn to ask questions. “How did you know I was uncomfortable?”

He hesitates, looks behind her, at the bartenders, and then puts his hand on her shoulder, guiding her away from the front of the room and toward the office. The desire for privacy is fair, she supposes, but when he closes the door and offers her a seat, she refuses, crossing her arms.

“No thank you. I just want to know how you knew something might be wrong. How you felt it,” she says, recalling Pam’s words. With a deep exhale, Eric takes his seat even though she won’t take hers.

“A few weeks before you came to town, I consulted with a witch. I know,” he adds with a smirk, “many vampires fear witches, but I’m very progressive. She told me I would meet someone who would help me grow my power, my business, and that all I had to do was be receptive to it. She didn’t mention it would be a human, or a woman, or someone with psychic ability, just that I would know it when I felt it.”

“And you felt it with me?” she asks, taking a step forward and then sinking into the chair opposite him. Any resistance she had to meeting him on his level for this conversation has been swiftly replaced with curiosity.

“The first night we met,” he answers. “I was drawn to Bon Temps that night, but not for Bill, or Sookie: I was drawn there to meet you.” Cam swallows, her head spinning at the implication, and he continues. “And the more I learned about you, how intelligent you are, how powerful, it became more than mere intuition. I needed you working at my side.”

It takes a moment for her to form words, but when she does, she tries to make them sound less irritated than she feels.

“You could have told me that.” Eric drags a hand over his hair, looking more unsure of himself than she’s ever seen him.

“I didn’t want to scare you away. I wanted to prove myself trustworthy… and I think I have. I think that’s why I was able to feel you like that today.”

It makes sense to Cam—her path to his mind, that buzzing she hears, has been open, but hers had been closed until… Well, she’s not sure when, exactly, but now that it’s open, that tingle, that tugging in her head, it must go both ways. Maybe it’s not just his presence she can feel.

“I do trust you, but going forward we should have the expectation of transparency. If you’re talking to a witch about my future, I deserve to know,” she tells him, no nonsense. He nods in agreement, eyes on hers, and she deflates a bit, sighs. “So, does this change things in any way, now that you’ve told me? My contract or anything?”

Eric stands, so she does too, though he towers over her even with the desk between them, like he’s leaning into her space, whether consciously or not.

“I don’t believe so. If you can forgive my misstep, and accept my promise to be honest with you in the future, I would like it if you would continue to work with me as discussed.” After a moment, he holds out his hand for a shake, and she takes it firmly.

“Okay. If you promise to be honest—and know I’ll call you out if I think you’re bullshitting me or hiding things.” The contact breaks, and Eric nods.

“I have no doubts. Do you plan to stay a while?” he asks, looking over her again, but her sweat has been cooling on her skin, and she needs a shower and a change of clothes more than anything.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll go back home,” she says, and he nods his head once in agreement.

“That’s no problem. I’ll escort you back to your apartment,” he says, walking toward the door and opening it. “One of us will escort you home every night, just to be safe, until we find out if someone is indeed watching you.” Her first instinct is to refuse, because she can take care of herself, but she is still a little shaken from the danger earlier, whether perceived or otherwise, so she simply nods her head and lets herself be guided out the door. She did ask for his protection, after all, and he did promise it.

Eric walks her to her front door, his expression tight as he listens or smells or does whatever vampires do when they’re trying to solve a mystery. Cam stands in the doorway and watches him, smiles gently when he looks back to her face.

“Would you like to come in?” she asks, thinking about what she could offer him in the way of refreshments, good Southern hostess that she is… but she comes up with nothing. She should grab some TruBlood to have on hand, just in case, or more of the wine he’d gifted to her when she moved in.

“No, that’s okay, thank you. You interrupted your evening off when I asked you to; I do not want to take up any more of your time.” It’s really thoughtful of him to say, but when she shifts to say goodbye, she feels the sweaty funk on her skin, and she's instantly embarrassed, sure he must be able to smell it.

“Oh god, it’s because I stink, right? I’m sorry, I came right from jogging—” she begins; she can’t imagine how strong that kind of thing must be to vampires and their superior senses. Before she can finish, Eric leans in extremely close, his nose brushing over the bare line of her neck. He balances his hand on the door frame beside her and breathes her in.

“You smell delicious,” he murmurs, “all of the time,” and after another deep breath, he pulls back to give her space. She manages not to whimper at the loss, even though she kind of wants to, just clears her throat, and the corner of Eric’s mouth twitches almost imperceptibly. “Good night, Camila.”

“Yeah, good night,” she calls as he turns to walk away, her brain still a half-step behind reality. Eric disappears into the night, and, feeling a sudden chill, she heads inside to shower, double locking the door behind her.

Eric feels her, sees her, and smells her all at once. She’s back at Fangtasia, but tonight she wears a short black dress with ruffled sleeves, her legs looking long in a pair of strappy sandals. It would be mouthwatering, if he allowed himself to think of her that way.

Looking at her, yes that’s fine—it’s impossible not to—but feeling things is wholly out of the equation.

He waits for her to approach him, can tell by the look on her face she means business tonight, and when she’s within human earshot, he moves toward her. “Camila, what a pleasure.” His eyes linger on her bare legs at his own mention of pleasure. “Did we call on you tonight?”

“No, I’m doing a little of my own detective work,” she admits, glancing around the bar. “A former client of mine heard about a potential attack on a vampire nest not far from here, thought I might want to check it out. And I knew you’d want to know.”

Eric presses his hand to the small of her back and they walk toward the back of the club for a little more privacy.

“Which nest?” he asks, running through recent updates from all of the neighboring sheriffs and wondering which he should inform of her tip. She pulls out her phone and flicks open a text message. “And why do they wish to harm them?”

“The… Densmore coven,” she says, reading over it, “and he says there’s one vampire in particular they’re after, someone named Flynn. Do you know him?”

The look on his face when she glances up must say it all, because her expression changes completely.

“Yes, I know him. He’s always made trouble for our kind.”

“What kind of trouble? Eating kids trouble, stealing wives trouble, graffiti-ing bloody fangs on a monument of some racist old lawmaker trouble?” she offers, texting her contact back. Eric huffs a laugh and shakes his head.

“Nothing like—well, the stealing wives thing, maybe. He enjoys seducing women, likes being their first vampire, if you know what I mean.” Cam looks up at him and exhales, nods.

“Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean. You never forget your first vampire,” she recites, and that is intriguing… even though he wishes it wasn’t.

“I take it you remember your first vampire?” he asks despite himself, leaning in more closely like being near her is the easiest thing in the world. Like it doesn’t make him want things he knows he can never have.

She ignores him with a playful roll of the eyes, holding up her phone again.

“Has anyone heard of a man asking weird questions around the bar? Trying to get a vampire to take him home, to their home? My friend thinks they might be doing recon.”

It’s actually a good thing, he thinks, if they’re trying to schmooze someone at the bar: it means they’re amateurs, probably stupid, and not enough of a threat to write to the Queen about.

“I’ll find out,” Eric says, and he’s gone in a swift rush of air, making the rounds and speaking to all of his staff members. When he returns, she’s already zeroed in on suspect number one. Clever girl.

“Gray button up shirt, trucker hat?” Cam whispers, and Eric shifts to press himself against her back. “Don’t worry, I’ve got him,” she says, and it makes him wonder what she’s getting from him, if she can feel his uncertainty the way he could feel her paranoia when she was out for a run the other day. “Is there somewhere I can take him to get him alone—somewhere you could meet me, terrify him, do your thing?”

He murmurs an address into her ear, a house just down the block that Pam sometimes uses for entertaining. “I’ll be right behind you—and be careful,” he adds sternly before leaving as quickly as he’d gone before.

“You’re going to let her leave with that thing?” Pam says when he almost collides with her behind the bar. He watches Cam as she approaches the man, as she slips into a flirtatious smile and lets him put his hands on her hips as they sway to the music.

“He’s harmless; I’ll be watching her the whole time,” he assures, wondering when Pam became fond enough of Cam to be concerned for her wellbeing. Maybe putting her on babysitting duty for a few weeks had been a better idea than he realized.

Getting Trucker Hat alone is easy: Cam flirts a little, dances, tells him that her vampire said she could invite a third and that she wanted him in all of his redneck glory. His clear interest morphs into a shit-eating grin when she mentions that her vampire said they should go back to his place and get started, that he would be along soon to join them.

“Will you show me where he sleeps?” Trucker Hat asks with a squeeze of her ass as they cross the street just outside the house. Cam slips on a salacious smile and tugs him up onto the porch, turns her back to the front door to give him a very obvious full-body once over.

“He has a secret spot under the floorboards,” she whispers, in the event no visible coffin is present. If there is one, she can brush it off as a roleplay prop. “I’ll even let you fuck me on top of it.”

“Hell yeah,” the man drawls, pressing closer to her to grope at her breasts. He's not bad looking, has all of the suntanned, frat boy charm she expected upon first glance, but his hands on her make her want to take a scalding shower and kick him in the balls—though not in that order. She opens the door and leads him inside, steps back to watch him take in the admittedly luxurious decor.

The foyer is grand and open, leading into a dark and moody sitting room. There are bookshelves built into all of the walls, electric candelabras conveniently lit, and Trucker Hat drops down into the middle of a purple velvet couch, his arms stretched out on either side like a king on his throne.

“You look so good like that,” she tells him, punctuating it with a bite of her bottom lip. He pulls her into his lap—not what she’d been hoping for, but not altogether unexpected—and hikes up her skirt, so she can feel his erection beneath her, his hands on the thighs spread around him.

“And you look good on top of me.” He pulls her down for a kiss, but she shifts, gives him a face full of cleavage instead, which earns both a grunt of surprise and a groan of arousal. “Fuck, honey. Want ‘em bouncin’ in my face while you ride my pole.”

Cam rolls her eyes because she knows he can’t see them—the thing about being alone with a man is that she doesn’t even need to listen to their thoughts. They all spout off at the mouth and just say whatever stupid thing is on their mind anyway—then dips down to meet his gaze.

“Mmm. Let me give you a massage first,” she counters, running a hand down his chest and stopping at his belt. He swallows hard and nods, then takes her hand and presses it down against his cock.

“I know you’ve gotta be good at rubbin’,” he says with a wink, and she grins playfully and slides out of his lap, strutting slowly around the sofa until she ends up behind him.

“I’m good at all kinds of things,” she says, leaning down to purr in his ear. She rests her hands on his shoulders, digs her thumbs into them in a way that she knows has to hurt a little. He exhales sharply, then covers it with a moan as she glides her fingers down to his chest, flipping open his top button, then another. “Have you ever shared a girl with a vampire?”

His thoughts change then, flash to a pretty blonde woman, then the short, stocky, muscular vampire she now knows to be Flynn—fuck that vamp, man, and that fuckin’ fangbangin’ whore he stole from me. Slut for vampire blood and dick, stupid bitch.

“I don't share,” he says suddenly, angrily, and he reaches back to get a hand in her hair, uses it to pull her closer so that her feet are almost off the ground. He takes a hard kiss that is clearly not meant to bring her pleasure, and she reaches for his face, jamming her fingers into his eyes and earning a howl of pain. It’s then that Eric joins them, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her away from the man’s unkind grasp.

“Neither do I,” he growls, and when the man stands quickly, surprised, Eric fists a hand in his shirt and yanks him over the back of the couch, depositing him on the floor at their feet. “I heard you plan to take down a vampire nest—you don’t look quite that stupid, but now I can see exactly how small your brain is.”

Trucker Hat flounders, trips over his own tongue between a series of desperate apologies and outright pleading for his life. Eric maneuvers Cam behind himself, then steps closer to the man, hovering over him as if intending to crush him beneath his shoe.

“If you harm one of us, you’re dead. If you try to take out a whole nest, I’ll make a snack out of you until you’re begging me for death.” He glances back at Cam, who smooths her skirt, brushes a hand through her hair to regain a semblance of dignity after his halted attack, and then back at the man. “And if you ever so much as look at her again, I’ll kill everyone you’ve ever cared about in front of you and then skin you alive. Do you understand?” When the man can’t manage to get a word out, Eric reaches down and grabs him by the lapels of his shirt—and he pauses for a few seconds because shoving him toward the door. “Leave.”

Trucker Hat scrambles for the front door and out of the room, and when she can no longer hear his chaotic, frightened mind, Cam releases a long breath she’d been holding in. Eric turns to her and runs his palm tenderly over the crown of her head.

“I’m sorry. I did not expect him to be violent,” he says, sounding regretful as he looks down into her eyes. She shakes her head, both accepting the apology and dismissing the need for one.

“It’s okay, neither did I,” she tells him truthfully.

She’d underestimated the man’s rage, something she’ll be certain never to do again.

After a moment of silence between them, she looks up and says, “You let him live… to send a message?”

Eric clears his throat, slowly shakes his head.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t approve if I ate his heart.” She knows he means it, his face deadly serious, but she can’t help it, a laugh escapes her at that—probably one of those trauma laughs that bubble up at all the worst times. Eric actually cracks a smile at her outburst, and his eyes soften. “Can I take you home?”

“My car’s at the club, I’m okay to drive,” she assures him, and though he scrutinizes her face, he seems to agree with her estimation.

“Alright, but I’m going to ride along,” he finally decides. They walk back to the parking lot together, and when Cam hesitates, Eric takes the driver’s seat. Without a second thought, she hands over her keys and enjoys the feeling of being taken care of by someone—anyone—for a change.

The next morning, far too early, a knock on the door wakes Cam from a dead sleep. She pads from the bedroom to the hall and checks the peephole before unlatching the deadbolt and pulling open the door.

“Sookie, what the hell—”

“Bill heard all about what happened to you last night,” Sookie says, brushing past her and walking into her apartment. She stalks into the kitchen and pulls down a box of tea and Cam’s kettle, which she fills with water. “I told you nothin’ good would come of working with Eric, now didn’t I?”

“I don’t… what do you mean?” Cam asks, blinking away the haze of sleep. She glances at the kettle curiously; if anything, after barely three hours sleep, she wants coffee. “Nothing happened to me last night.”

Like her words flipped a switch inside her, Sookie spins around and faces her, crosses her arms over the baby blue peplum top she wears.

“So you didn’t go on some dumb undercover mission and get assaulted by some creep? Bill just made that up?” she demands, and Cam raises her hands in mock defense, takes a step back.

“Okay, no, he didn’t make that up, but that’s an exaggeration. I lured this jerk to a safe house so Eric could deal with him. The guy grabbed me, but I jabbed him in the eye sockets and then Eric pulled me away. I wasn’t in any danger,” she assures her, even though she had been afraid when the man’s thoughts switched so abruptly to anger and violence. But Eric was coming, she knew that, and he was there before she could do much more than instinctively react, anyway. Sookie huffs in disbelief and opens the cabinet over her head, pulling down two white ceramic mugs.

“Not in danger, sure. You were just alone with a wanna be vampire killer—who could have had a weapon, by the way!” she adds, turning to face Cam. Cam just blinks, still not caught up from being in a deep sleep just minutes ago, and Sookie waves a sleeve of tea bags in front of her face. “Everyone thinks I’m stupid, but you don’t see me luring men out into the dark, now do you?”

Cam takes a deep breath and moves closer to Sookie, gently taking the tea from her hands. She sets it on the counter, then wraps her arms around her cousin in a hug; the embrace lasts nearly thirty seconds, and when she pulls back, Sookie’s eyes are wet with tears.

“I’m sorry,” Cam says immediately, placing her hands on Sookie’s shoulders. “I wasn’t thinking about how it could affect you, me coming back so suddenly and then putting myself in harm’s way. How it might get you thinking about everything you’ve lost.” Sookie sniffles and tilts her head to the side.

“Don’t listen to my thoughts,” she murmurs, pouting, but then she laughs, something soft and delicate. Cam mirrors it.

“I don’t need to listen to know that I’ve upset you, Sook. I really am sorry. I promise that if I’m involved in any dangerous vampire hijinks in the future, I’ll let you know right away so you don’t hear it from someone else. I can’t promise not to get involved in things,” she clarifies, “you know that’s not in my nature, but I can promise to be the one who tells you about them.”

Sookie turns her head and looks at her, takes a soft breath before nodding her head.

“Okay. I’m sorry I barged in here like I’m your mom—or god, like Gran,” she says with an exasperated smile that Cam duplicates. “But I worry about you. I know you can take care of yourself, you always could, but this is a new world, Cam, and it can be scary sometimes.” At that, Cam takes Sookie’s hands and holds them softly.

“I know it can be scary, but this world isn’t new for me,” she reminds her gently. “All I can promise is that I’ll be smart, I’ll be careful, and I’ll be honest with you. If I do that, are we good?” she asks her cousin, so like a sister to her it hurts her heart, and Sookie nods.

“Yeah, we’re good,” she says with a sad smile, and then Cam playfully nudges her out of the way and reaches up into the cupboard for a bag of breakfast blend.

“In that case, do you want to stay for breakfast?” she asks, and Sookie grins and gets to work pulling eggs and tomatoes from the refrigerator while Cam brews a fresh pot of coffee.

#eric northman #true blood #eric northman fanfic #true blood fanfic #eric northman x reader #eric northman x ofc

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dontmeantobepoliticalbut · 1 year

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By Joseph Ferguson & Thomas A. Durkin, Loyola University Chicago

After three indictments of former President Donald Trump, the fourth one in Georgia came not as a surprise but as a powerful exposition of the scope of Trump’s efforts to remain in power despite losing the 2020 presidential election.

New conservative legal scholarship spells out how and why those actions – which were observed by the public over many months – disqualify Trump from serving in the presidency ever again. And our read of the Georgia indictment, as longtime lawyers ourselves, shows why and how that disqualification can be put into effect.

The key to all of this is the 14th Amendment to the Constitution, which states that “No person shall … hold any office, under the United States … who, having previously taken an oath … to support the Constitution of the United States, shall have engaged in insurrection or rebellion against the same, or given aid or comfort to the enemies thereof.” Trump took that oath at his inauguration on Jan. 20, 2017.

Both Trump’s Georgia indictment, and his federal indictment in Washington, D.C., cite largely public information – and some newly unearthed material – to spell out exactly how he engaged in efforts to rebel against the Constitution, and sought and gave aid and comfort to others who also did so.

Legal scholars William Baude and Michael Stokes Paulsen, conservatives themselves and members of the conservative Federalist Society, have recently published a paper declaring that under the 14th Amendment, Trump’s actions render him ineligible to hold office.

We believe the Georgia indictment provides even more detail than the earlier federal one about how Trump’s actions have already disqualified him from office, and shows a way to keep him off the ballot in 2024.

DISQUALIFICATION IS AUTOMATIC

Trump’s supporters might argue that disqualifying him would be unfair without a trial and conviction on the Jan. 6 indictment, and perhaps the Georgia charges.

But Baude and Paulsen, using originalist interpretation – the interpretive theory of choice of the powerful Federalist Society and Trump’s conservative court appointees, which gives full meaning to the actual, original text of the Constitution – demonstrate that no legal proceeding is required. They say disqualification is automatic, or what’s known in the legal world as “self-executing.”

Recent public comments from liberal constitutional scholar Laurence Tribe and conservative jurist and former federal Judge Michael Luttig – who has characterized the events before, during and since Jan. 6 as Trump’s “declared war on American democracy” – suggest an emerging bipartisan consensus supporting Baude and Paulsen.

BACKED BY HISTORY

This is not a theoretical bit of technical law. This provision of the 14th Amendment was, in fact, extensively used after the Civil War to keep former Confederate leaders from serving in the federal government, without being tried or convicted of any crime.

Few former Confederates were charged with crimes associated with secession, rebellion and open war against the United States. And most were pardoned by sweeping orders issued by President Andrew Johnson.

But even though they had no relevant convictions, former Confederates were in fact barred from office in the U.S.

In December 1865, several who had neither been convicted nor been pardoned tried to claim seats in the U.S. House of Representatives. But the House clerk refused to swear them in. It took an act of Congress – the 1872 Amnesty Act – to later restore their office-holding rights.

There is no requirement in the Constitution that the disqualification be imposed by any specific process – only that it applies to people who take certain actions against the Constitution.

A PATH THROUGH THE STATES

For the U.S. in 2023, we believe the most realistic avenue to enforce the 14th Amendment’s ban on a second Trump presidency is through state election authorities. That’s where the Georgia indictment comes in.

State election officials could themselves, or in response to a petition of a citizen of that state, refuse Trump a place on the 2024 ballot because of the automatic 14th Amendment disqualification.

Trump would certainly challenge the move in federal court. But the recent disqualification proceedings against former North Carolina Congressman Madison Cawthorn provides a road map and binding legal precedent affirming the 14th Amendment as a valid legal ground for disqualification of a candidate for federal office.

The Georgia indictment against Trump and allies exhaustively details extensive acts of lying, manipulation and threats against Georgia officials, as well as a fraudulent fake elector scheme to illegally subvert the legitimate 2020 Georgia presidential vote tally and resulting elector certification.

Trump’s failure to accomplish what is tantamount to a coup in Georgia and other swing states set the stage for the violent insurrection of Jan. 6, 2021, that sought to achieve the same result – Trump’s fraudulent installation to a second term.

In fact, the Georgia scheme is included in Special Counsel Jack Smith’s federal indictment as one of the methods and means in “aid” of the larger Jan. 6 federal conspiracy against the United States.

Baude and Paulsen acknowledge that “insurrection and rebellion” are traditionally associated with forced or violent opposition. But we see the broader set of actions by Trump and his allies to subvert the Constitution – the Georgia vote count and fake elector scheme included – as part of a political coup d'etat. It was a rebellion.

GEORGIA AS A BELLWETHER

So what makes the Georgia scheme and indictment compelling for purposes of disqualifying Trump from the 2024 Georgia ballot?

There are minimally six aspects revealed in the latest indictment that we believe justify Georgia – under Section 3 of the post-Civil War Fourteenth Amendment – keeping Trump off the ballot:

1. The racketeering scheme was a multifaceted attempt to subvert Georgia’s own part of the 2020 electoral process;

2. The officials on the receiving end of the unsuccessful racketeering scheme were elected and appointed Georgia officials. …

3. … whose actions to reject election subversion vindicated their own oaths to uphold the Constitution and laws of the United States as well as Georgia’s;

4. Most of these officials were and are Republicans – including Secretary of State Brad Raffensberger, Governor Brian Kemp and former Lt. Governor Geoff Duncan;

5. These officials will, in 2024 as in 2020, collectively determine who is qualified to be on Georgia’s presidential ballot; and

6. These officials’ testimony, and related evidence, is at the heart of the proof of the Georgia racketeering case against Trump.

In other words, the evidence to convict Trump in the Georgia racketeering case is the same evidence, coming from the same Georgia officials, who will be involved in determining whether, under the 14th Amendment, Trump is qualified to be on the 2024 presidential ballot – or not.

Little if any additional evidence or proceedings are needed. The Georgia officials already hold that evidence, because much of it comes from them. They don’t need a trial to establish what they already know.

How could Trump avoid this happening? A quick trial date in Atlanta with an acquittal on all counts might do it, but this runs counter to his strategy to delay all the pending criminal cases until after the 2024 election.

With no preelection trial, there will likely be no Trump on the 2024 Georgia ballot, and no chance for him to win Georgia’s 2024 electoral college votes.

Once Georgia bars him, other states may follow. That would leave Trump with no way to credibly appear on the ballot in all 50 states, giving him no chance to win the electoral votes required to claim the White House.

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eretzyisrael · 1 year

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by Dion J. Pierre

A prominent international law firm based in Chicago has rescinded an offer of employment to a law student at New York University who sent a message to the school’s Student Bar Association (SBA) expressing “absolute solidarity” with Hamas’ terrorist onslaught against Israel.

“Winston & Strawn learned that a former summer associate published certain inflammatory comments regarding Hamas’ recent terrorist attack on Israel and distributed it to the NYU Student Bar Association,” the law firm said in a statement. “These comments profoundly conflict with Winston & Strawn’s values as a firm. Accordingly, the firm has rescinded the law student’s offer of employment.”

The student — Ryna Workman, president of the SBA — had sent a message to the NYU student group on Hamas’ invasion of Israel, which resulted in more than 1,000 Israeli deaths. Thousands of Israelis were also injured, and dozens were kidnapped and taken as hostages to neighboring Gaza, the Palestinian enclave controlled by Hamas.

“I want to express, first and foremost, my unwavering and absolute solidarity with Palestinians in their resistance against oppression,” Workman wrote. “Israel bears full responsibility for this tremendous loss of life … I will not condemn Palestinian resistance.”

Workman went on to accuse Israel of “apartheid” and “settler colonialism” before concluding, “Palestine will be free.”

Winston & Strawn said in its statement that the firm remains “outraged and deeply saddened by the violent attack on Israel over the weekend. Our hearts go out to our Jewish colleagues, their families, and all those affected.” The firm added that it “stands in solidarity with Israel’s right to exist in peace and condemns Hamas and the violence and destruction it has ignited in the strongest terms possible.”

New York University’s Law School on Tuesday released its own statement disavowing Workman’s comments, which widely circulated on social media and triggered an uproar demanding that the school clarify its position on them.

“Some of you have seen a message from the president of the Student Bar Association regarding the horrific conflict in Israel and Gaza. This message was not from NYU School of Law as an institution and does not speak for the leadership of the Law School,” wrote Troy McKenzie, dean of the law school. “It certainly does not express my own views, because I condemn the killing of civilians and acts of terrorism as always reprehensible.”

NYU isn’t the only university to have law school students support Hamas and condemn Israel. On Tuesday, amid the circulation of footage showing gruesome acts of violence committed by Hamas terrorists against Israeli civilians, the City University of New York (CUNY) Law School’s Jewish Law Students Association (JLSA) shared a tweet containing instructions for making Molotov cocktails while appearing to defend Hamas’ terror campaign.

“Soak a cloak in flammable liquid … resoak [sic] the exposed wick and light it,” the text said. “Target a hard surface, such as an engine grill. Repeat until the invading occupiers retreat.”

#new york university #student bar association #new york university law school #nyu school of law #ryna workman #winston & strawn

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lboogie1906 · 10 days

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James Charles Evers (September 11, 1922 - July 22, 2020) was a civil rights activist and former politician. He was known for his role in the civil rights movement along with his younger brother Medgar Evers. He was made the NAACP State Voter Registration Chairman in 1954. He took over his position as field director of the NAACP in Mississippi. He organized and led many demonstrations for the rights of African Americans.

He was named “Man of the Year” by the NAACP. On June 3, 1969, he was elected in Fayette, Mississippi as the first African American mayor of a biracial town in the state in the post-Reconstruction era, following the passage of the Voting Rights Act of 1965.

He was born in Decatur, MS to James Evers, a laborer, and Jesse Wright Evers, a maid. He was the eldest of four children. He graduated from Alcorn State University.

During WWII, he and Medgar Evers both served in the Army. He fell in love with a Philippine woman while stationed overseas. He could not marry her and bring her home because the state’s constitution prohibited interracial marriages. After serving a year of reserve duty following the Korean War, he settled in Philadelphia, Mississippi. He began working as a disc jockey at WHOC, making him the first African American disc jockey in the state. He managed a hotel, cab company, and burial insurance business in the town. He moved to Chicago. He began working as a meatpacker in stockyards during the day and as an attendant for the men’s restroom at night. He began pimping and ran a numbers game. He gained enough money to purchase several bars, bootlegged liquor, and sold jukeboxes.

At the time of his election as mayor, the white officers of the Fayette city police “resigned rather than work under a Black administration”, according to the Associated Press. He then outlawed the carrying of firearms within city limits. He was married to Christine Evers until their marriage ended in annulment. He married Nannie L. Magee (1951-74) with whom he had four daughters. He lived in Brandon and served as station manager of WMPR 90.1 FM in Jackson. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

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jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka · 11 months

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Summary: Happy Halloween! Here is what was supposed to be a oneshot about vampire Jake and happy little solo artist Danny but I kind of took off with it. Originally it was posted in two parts on AO3.

Pairings: Jake Kiszka x Danny Wagner *slash please don’t read if it’s not your cup of tea

Warnings: absolutely no minors! m/m sex scenes, oral m receiving, angst, biting, drinking blood, sharing blood, if I missed anything please let me know

For the vibes:

Word count: ~12.4k

Chicago, fall of 1973, it was exactly 50 years ago on the dot and the old rustic bar still stood its ground in front of you. Its brick structure was crumbling around the edges, but stubbornly holding onto its life and its place amongst humanity just as you were.

Memories of your last night here all those years ago still played freshly in your mind like reels from the first moving picture you ever saw.

It was a lifetime ago for anyone who didn’t have the time you had. An eternity.

Piwnic Cellar, was the name of the bar. Paying homage to the original owners Polish heritage. Although you always found it foolish that the name literally translated into ‘basement’ cellar, which was a little redundant, the place held a home in some corner of your still-beating heart.

The place oozed a European atmosphere even with it being over 4,000 miles away from its point of influence.

Not many Chicagoans knew of the bar's existence. Even far less than the last time you had visited you came to notice upon entering. The ones who did, more than likely knew of its reputation for housing the damned. Typically only those curious of the fantasy, or outsiders wandering too far off the tourists' beaten path, found their way in and mingled with the dark that resided within.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” a caramel coated voice smoothed its way into your ear as soon as you found a secluded seat at the end of the old wooden bar. You liked to associate feelings with what you remembered food tasting like, just one more annoying and tattered string still holding you together to your past self.

“I could say the same” you replied with a smirk, looking over to see a familiar face underneath decades of styling changes. “Didn’t know if I’d still find you here”.

Irene had become a close friend to you back in your Chicago days. Although then she had long naturally dried wavy locks, hand painted freckles to make her complexion more friendly and like it had seen the sun in less than a hundred years.

Now she didn’t bother with the makeup, her pale skin glowing in the moonlight. You were sure yours looked paper thin since it had been so long since you had fed you were wearing yourself dangerously thin. Her hair was cut short now and pin-straight, surely having to change it up so that her endless youth wouldn’t go too noticed.

The look did give her a more mature edge than the groovy flowery girl you had come to adore before. Though when she smiled at your unexpected visit, you knew she herself hadn’t changed and she was just as glad to see you after so long as you were her.

“What brings you back to town? Where the hell have you been?” Her smile never broke as she hounded you with questions all while retrieving a glass from under the bar and pouring you a whisky neat from a cloudy unmarked glass bottle. She knew how you liked the aged liquor.

“Europe mostly” you answered as you swirled the amber liquid around before tossing it back and placing it down for another.

“Figures, you always talked about spending more time there. I took a break from here for a bit. Went to South America for a few years. Had some wild times even you wouldn’t believe”. She laughed when your brows raised at her, knowing all too well that you had surely gotten yourself into some more trouble at one point or another as well.

Your eyes scanned the vast room while she left you to sip on your next glass to help another patron. The interior of the bar had changed just a bit. An upgrade in furniture, new upholstery on the booths, and lighting fixtures, but it still felt the same.

Besides Irene, there wasn’t anyone else you knew there tonight. Though you didn’t know who, you knew all too well exactly what the majority of them were. They were like you. Lost souls doomed to roam the Earth in misery and darkness.

“If you’re searching for anyone from your group of vigilantes, most of them left when you disappeared. The couple that stuck around didn’t stay quiet and got hunted down. Poor fools”. Irene clicked her tongue and shook her head at having to be the one to inform you that some of your friends had died, but that wasn’t why you were here.

Matter of fact, you didn’t know why you were back here. When you left you left for a reason. You didn’t want to run in that crowd anymore, it was becoming dangerous, and from the sounds of it you were glad you got out when you did.

There were those out there who thought your ailment was a gift. An endless number of chances to get life done right, and you had succeeded for the most part. You had money, like you even needed money at this point, you had traveled far and wide, you even picked up a few languages on the way like Portuguese and Latin.

Besides everything you’d experienced, you had come to realize just how lonely you were.

Your kind was meant to pack together, otherwise spending all this time alone could easily drive one insane. Obviously you had tried to fit in, make yourself a part of a group, a family, but your stubborn unwillingness to treat other life as mere food had alienated you from a lot of your kind.

So you found yourself alone most of the time, sticking to the shadows and only taking from those what you needed to survive. That’s what your life had been reduced to, primal survival, and now here you were searching for something more. Something to keep the madness from taking you, for any emotion other than loneliness, and for love.

More time passed than you had even realized, only knowing how close to dawn it was getting by the way your body started to feel drained. You needed to feed at some point tonight, the whiskey wasn’t going to hold you over much longer.

Just as the thought crossed your mind, the door opened and an intoxicating smell entered in along with a tall curly raven haired man.

What is he doing here? You thought to yourself, as you held your breath, eyes carefully following the figure as he walked confidently through the bar and took a seat at a booth. Is he alone? Is he waiting for someone?

You couldn’t tear your eyes from him as you waited to see what his presence in the bar was for. Finally, someone else approached him and he smiled, getting up to greet the person like it was the first time meeting before they both sat down together.

“Like that one do you?” Irene asked you from behind since nearly your whole body had turned in the chair to get a better look.

“Do you know him?” You asked back, desperate for any bit of information you could learn about this strangely appealing man.

“Never seen him before, but you know humans only make it in here if they’re looking for something, or they were lured. By the way you and his friend is looking at him I’d assume-”

“You know I’m not like that” you cut her off, turning back around in the chair and resuming staring off into the distance instead. The whisky stung as it slid down your throat, you were so raw that it tasted metallic.

She shrugged her shoulders and left you to be again. You tried to remain calm, but your ears were subconsciously tuning into their conversation.

“Thank you so much for coming, I thought maybe I had scared you off by asking you to come out so late and to this bar of all places” the man accompanying him at the table spoke.

“Of course, and I don’t mind, I like antiques and old places like this”.

You and the man laughed under your breath, like antiques do you? You don’t even know who you’re talking to.

You could hear his heart beating loudly, echoing off the stone walls, the only heartbeat around in a room full of people. You knew why he was here, but you didn’t want to acknowledge it.

As your breath quickened, you forced your attention away from the two of them. Just the thought of feeding was sending you spiraling and you knew you would have to get out of here soon if you were going to hunt before the night was over.

You closed your eyes, trying to listen to anything other than their conversation or the sound of the heartbeat behind you until the banging started to get louder.

“What can I get you?” Irene asked the person who was now standing next to you ordering a couple of drinks.

Irene was the best damn bartender you had ever met, but she took her time making the drinks, prolonging the time the two of you shared a small space.

“Hey, are you alright?” He asked, placing his hand on the bar top next to where you were doubled over in pain.

Straightening up quickly, you were met with his hazel gaze looking right at you. A softness in his expression that only someone who wasn’t troubled with a thing in the world could manage.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking” you tried to sound sincere and warm, but your breath ended up coming out forced and icy.

“I’m Danny” he lifted the hand resting on the bar in an offer to shake, and smiled showing all his pearly white, straight, and non-threatening teeth.

“Jake” you accepted his invitation, hesitantly reaching for his hand with yours.

His skin was so warm, hot even, and you could feel the blood rushing just under the thin skin. You pulled away quickly, and if you could blush with embarrassment then you were sure your face would have been painted. “Nice to meet you”.

“Are you here alone?” Danny collected the two glasses from the table but paused to continue to speak with you for just a bit longer.

You didn’t have to answer, it was obvious.

“Would you like to join us?”

You could feel the man sitting at the table behind you closely watching the interaction, more than likely listening in on your entire conversation like you had theirs.

“No, I don’t think your date would want me interrupting”. You hoped maybe Danny would deny he was here on a date, but he only shrugged his shoulders “If you change your mind we’re just over there”. He flashed another toothy smile before leaving you alone again, you trying not to turn your head and watch him walk away for fear you might just get up and follow him. You were not in the best head space right now to be socializing.

As the hour changed from late night to early morning, you maintained your spot at the end of the bar and kept your ears tuned into the two behind you sharing stories and laughs wishing it were you that was the one casually getting to know Danny.

Even though he wasn’t talking to you, you heard everything he said. He was soft spoken, and incredibly cheerful considering he was in dangerous company. Gullible wasn’t a word you would use to describe him though. He held an air of confidence, did not for one moment let it slip that he was maybe a little too out of place here.

The patrons that remained were thinning as dawn was just around the corner. Once Danny and his date decided to leave, you found yourself silently stalking behind them.

You had to make sure he would be safe, nervous beyond hell that his companion was just waiting for the right moment to get him alone and devour him in one go.

Thankfully, they parted ways at the end of the block.

Although Danny had no idea you had followed them from the bar, the man turned and made eye contact with you hiding in the shadow, shooting you a challenging look before disappearing down the next street.

Danny made it to the train station, alone, before you decided he was in the clear and high tailed it back to your hotel.

Once inside your room you double checked all the windows were covered and popped open the mini fridge. Because you took the time to follow Danny you’d eliminated the chance to eat again.

There were three blood bags left after you took one, ripping the top off and downing the whole thing too quickly.

It burned your throat as you drank, but you immediately grabbed another and finished it in the same manner.

After having your fill but still feeling empty and drained inside, you flopped onto the bed face first and tossed the light down comforter on top of you, effectively shrouding yourself in even more blackness until you drifted into another dreamless sleep.

The next few nights you found yourself at the bar again, just waiting for Danny to show back up. He did return, every night for that matter, but never with the same person.

“Jake”,

“Danny”.

Those were the only words you said to each other when he would slip away to say hi to you as he ordered whatever he was in the mood for.

And you held onto that.

Everyone in the bar seemed to enjoy his company. He was a refreshing addition to the usually dull and stagnant atmosphere. The embodiment of a ray of sunshine through the endless nights. Laughing and flirting with just about anyone who waited for their chance to get him a drink. No doubt all sharing the same hidden thought and intention. Who was going to be the first to get a drink of him?

You didn’t join in on the consorting. Instead, you kept your safe distance.

Although every early morning before the sun came up you silently walked behind him. Ensuring again that he got to the train station in one piece without any problems from any of his nightly companions. You wondered just how long it would take him to realize that the longer he hung around, the more he put himself in jeopardy.

“Jake” he nodded his head in your direction as he waited for Irene to make his first drink of the night.

You held your tongue this time, even though his name was the only thing you had been able to hear in your head as you had held your breath in anticipation for his arrival.

He cocked an eyebrow at your even more than usual silence, turning his body to lean his hip against the bar.

“Everything alright?” He questioned with a bit of a snicker in his tone since he knew you were just going to brush him off like you had the first time he’d asked you how you were doing.

You bit your lip, hard, nearly drawing blood from the pressure. Your mind was running wild with thoughts of what you wanted but were too apprehensive of acting on until your mouth opened and the words spilled out.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

His mouth fell open for a moment as he tried to comprehend what you’d just said, before the corners twitched up into his characteristic bright smile.

“I thought you’d never ask”.

You waited for him to finish the drink he’d just ordered before the two of you left together. He didn’t seem to mind the others watching, but you could feel their hungry prying eyes, ripping you to shreds.

“Where do you want to go?” You questioned as soon as you had him out onto the street. Your plan, or lack thereof, had ended the moment you got him outside.

The only way you could tell it was a cool night was the way the gentle breeze raised tiny bumps on his beautifully sun-tanned skin. Yours stayed cold as the brisk air and pale from lack of exposure.

Danny chuckled, catching onto your nervousness. “Well, I figured ‘get out of here’ kind of alluded to your place?”

“Oh, you did?” You let a small laugh fall from your lips as well at his boldness. People these days really didn’t have anything to be ashamed of did they? You didn’t mind though, because Danny was partially right. You just wanted to get him alone, so tired of seeing him mingle with everyone else but you and at your own fault.

“I’ve seen the way you watch me Jake. Know you’ve been interested” he simpered as he continued to walk beside you towards an unknown destination. “Why didn’t you ever say something?”

You hadn’t said much to him at all, although you felt like you knew him from the way you’d watched and listened. Or at least you knew the bubbly, friendly, flirtatious person he presented himself as at the bar and now as the two of you strolled through an old park filled with rolling grassy hills and abstract art sculptures, stopping every so often to marvel at them.

“They just don’t make art like they used to” you mumbled under your breath while examining a particularly odd hunk of crafted metal trying to understand the idea behind the piece.

“And what type of art do you prefer then?” Danny questioned, not quite ready to leave the previous subject behind, but still willing to talk to you about anything and everything. From your peripheral you caught him eying you instead of the sculpture as he waited for your response.

“Art with meaning, emotion, an intention to cross boundaries and cause unique thought” you answered him, continuing along. “What about you? Do you like art?”

“I like anything that makes me smile, and feel good. Some art does that, some I don’t quite understand” Danny replied honestly, not very profound, but still endearing.

“There are a plethora of emotions to explore Danny, not just happiness, and art can bring those emotions out of you if you allow it to”.

“Sure, but don’t you want to be happy all the time? I’d much rather watch a funny movie rather than something that will make me want to cry” you had walked ahead, but Danny caught up with you, his hand brushing against yours as he met your side again. “What emotion do you feel the most?”

He was serious in his question this time, up until now having been mostly playful in his tone and conversation.

You thought about what to respond with, thinking surely this gentle giant might be frightened away by the depth of turmoil you felt, but the answer you gave surprised yourself. You looked around the dark cityscape, having made your way out of the park and onto another street lined with closed shops just waiting for the morning to reopen their doors and go about their business.

“Nostalgia”.

“Ah, that’s a complicated one” Danny nodded his head, allowing his hand to brush against yours once again, this time seemingly on purpose.

“It is” you agreed, complicated indeed and you had been struggling with the complication since your return.

“Can I ask you something else now?” You proposed to Danny, him nodding his head again to tell you to go ahead. “Earlier you said ‘I thought you’d never ask’ and you ‘know I’ve been interested’, why didn’t you say something? Or, is this all just a game to you?”

You swallowed down hard, trying not to be afraid of the question you’d asked and of the answer he might give.

Danny allowed himself to take your hand for real this time, stopping you and pulling it towards his chest so that you could feel the heat radiating off of it and the loud thumping sound returned to your ears.

“I’m not playing a game Jake. I’ve noticed because I like the way you look at me. Not like I’m just some form of fleeting entertainment, like I actually mean something”.

He brought your hand up to his mouth, and ran your knuckles against his lips, his warm breath caressing your skin with every exhale through his nose. Then he flattened your hand across his cheek, and leaned his head into it.

He didn’t seem to notice the icy cool of your touch, or if he did, he didn’t mind as his eyes fluttered closed and you used your hold on him to drag him down into a kiss.

The two of you drifted through the night on the streets, hand in hand and bodies pressed close against each other until you found yourself staring at him from across the elevator on the long ride up to your room.

“You staying in the pent house or something?” Danny chuckled breathily as he watched the little red lights above the doors increase in number the higher you went.

“Yes, actually” you replied dryly, not for the luxury factor though, out of certain necessity he wouldn’t know.

A quiet ding finally signaled the elevator had reached its requested floor, just before Danny launched himself at you. His hands wrapped into your hair and pulled you back into a heated kiss as yours trailed up the expanse of his back. Walking backwards you guided him out into the small hallway and to the door of the only room on the floor.

You had to break the kiss long enough to find the keycard in your pocket, Danny sighing in frustration at the lack of contact until you were kissing him again, blindly slapping the card around behind you.

Finally the key hit just right and the magnetized lock whirred as the door clicked open and the two of you fumbled inside.

Danny reached down to pull your shirt off you first, showing that he wasn’t planning on wasting anymore time with ‘getting to know each other’.

His hands explored your bare skin, lighting a fire in their wake, his thumbs slowing to a stop as they found your nipples.

You exhaled against his lips, him using the parting as a chance to dive his tongue inside to explore there next.

You whimpered and pulled away though, afraid that you wouldn’t be able to control yourself for much longer and sharp teeth could accidentally pierce the wet muscle.

“Are you alright?” He asked, this time expecting an actual answer as he held your shoulders and peered down at you.

“I’m just scared of hurting you” it came out in a whisper, but when you looked back up to see his face, calm and smiling, you knew he’d heard you.

“You won’t hurt me Jake” he assured you, unaware of how easily it actually would be despite the size difference.

He cupped your face with one palm and placed tender kisses on the opposite cheek, trailing them down until he was dropping to his knees in front of you and unbuckling your belt.

“Danny, the bed is right there” you pointed out that you had stopped just short of the large king mattress still messy from your last sleep.

“I know” he replied, successfully unbuttoning your pants, drawing down the zipper, and freeing your hardened length.

He laid more gentle kisses on the tip, and down the shaft, until he was licking a stripe back up and wrapping his lips around you.

A moan escaped and you tangled a hand into the hair at the top of his head only to ground yourself.

Was this really happening right now? After all the time you had laid awake during the day, imagining any form of intimacy with Danny, here he was pleasuring you.

It had been years since you had been with someone you actually cared about. Someone who actually stirred those feelings inside you that had stayed dormant for so long. Emotions? What emotions do I feel now?

Desire, serenity, adoration, happiness… Danny made you feel happy.

Danny was a work of art that the both of you admired. For you, the kind that brought you the range of emotion you yearned for, and for him the kind that brought happiness.

“Danny” you growled his name, causing him to look up through his lashes from where he was working. His mouth was full of you so all he could do was hum around you sending an electric shock of sensation up your spine.

“Up. Bed. Now”. You said each word through a tight jaw as you helped him up and tore his own shirt from him.

He fell back into the bed, his mop of hair sprawling out around him like how some artists painted glowing halos or crowns around their subjects.

You felt like the animal you were as you crawled on all fours and stalked him up the bed until your arms and legs were wrapped around him and you were burrowing your face deep within the crook of his neck.

You sucked the skin there between your lips, careful to not nip it with your teeth, and lapping over it with your tongue. You could hear his heart rate increase, the way the blood pumped faster through his veins just under the surface.

Your senses were completely envaded and engulfed by him. The taste, the smell, the feeling, all him.

“Oh god, please, just do it Jake” Danny whined, one hand coming up to thread his fingers between your hair at the back of your head and hold you there. “Bite me”.

Yes, bite him, drink, make him yours. A tempting voice rang through your head, the voice of the rabid beast you kept hidden within you.

Your gums ached, teeth begging to sink themselves into any bit of flesh they could get a hold of. No!

“What?” You panted, pulling back just a bit but not yet able to tear yourself away. You tried to calm yourself, telling the voice in your head that he could just like it rough, he could like the occasional teasing bite. He was by no means suggesting you feed from him.

“Jake, it’s ok. I know you’re hungry, and I don’t want to stop. I want you to have me in every way you need”.

Wait, he does want me to feed on him? You were confused, torn. You didn’t want to stop either, you wanted to ravish him completely. But you were so hungry. The past few nights of neglecting the hunt yet again had put you past your limit.

“Danny, what? I… do you…?” You couldn’t form the right words, unable to pry from him if he truly knew what he was asking of you.

“I do, I know what you are, and it’s ok” he brought his other hand up between your shoulder blades, rubbing his fingers in and pushing you back down until you were buried in the whirlwind that was his intoxicating scent again.

Without further question, unable to deny yourself any longer, you felt your fangs emerge. Flicking your tongue over them once, ever so slowly and as soft as you could possibly manage, you sunk your teeth into the curve where his neck met the top of his shoulder.

He gasped in a high pitch at the momentary pain, until the endorphins took over and he relaxed all of his muscles.

It was an unnatural reaction, but one your supernatural powers had subconscious control over. It wouldn’t be an easy task to stay hidden and feed while your prey screamed and feebly attempted to fight you off of them. Instead your species had somehow developed a chemical reaction to the bite that tricked the brain into thinking that the pain was actually pleasure.

Danny seemed to really enjoy it though, slipping a hand between your bodies and groping himself over his pants as you drank him in.

You seized his wrist and pinned it up on the pillow over his head, sliding your hips over until they were square with his and grinding down.

He let out a moan that trailed off into a whimper as you managed to unlatch your mouth and drag your tongue over his fresh wound. With not even a single drop spilled, you moved from his neck, littering open mouth kisses across his chest that left behind slightly pink blotches until you reached his hips.

He lifted them to help you as you shucked off his pants, taking his underwear down with them and tossing them both onto the floor.

You wanted to return him the favor as you saw him perked up over his stomach. Ready and waiting for a touch, a kiss, anything, but your mind was preoccupied still with what you had started.

Your hand smoothed up his legs, stopping on his knees and spreading them open for you to fit between them. You connected your mouth to him again. The skin here was still as smooth but roughened your lips with the hair. It was a nice feeling though, as you drug them across his inner thigh, the muscles there quivering and tightening.

This time he cried out when you bit down, his back arching off the bed. Your hands had to circle around his thigh to hold him still as you drank again.

He was intoxicating. Tasted like crisp apples steeped in whisky and syrup. An interesting combination but oh so delicious.

You could have tasted him all night, but you knew you’d taken enough, at least enough to satiate you for now.

Once you released him again, you pricked the pad of your thumb before letting your fangs retreat. You had to be quick at rubbing your thumb over his wounds before yours healed, watching as his skin slowly mended with nothing but a raised flushed bruise in place as a reminder of what had happened.

You kissed the bruise, Danny groaning and twitching still underneath you until you rose to see he was coming down from an orgasm.

“Oh, did you?” You couldn’t help but let a smirk cross your face as you took in the sight of Danny’s release glistening across his abdomen.

“Shut up, you don’t have to say anything about it” Danny’s face somehow managed to turn red despite the amount of blood you had taken and the amount that was still circulating through his lower half.

“Don’t be embarrassed, minha arte” you comforted him by tucking a lock of hair behind his ear and noticing he still had the wound on his neck.

He stopped you before you could move to try and heal it, grabbing your hand and placing it on his cheek like he’d done before.

“Leave it, doesn’t hurt. What was that? Spanish?” He let you continue to touch him, questioning what you’d said in hopes you might say something more.

“Close, Portuguese” you smiled down at him, savoring in the calm he emitted.

“Now, I have some questions for you before we continue”.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

You sat quietly in a chair next to the window playing over in your head all that had happened in the night hours.

Not sleeping during the day was always difficult, and if you hadn’t had the pleasure of a warm meal then your body probably would have given out hours ago. Even if sleep sounded wonderful, you weren’t 100% sure you could trust leaving yourself so valuable in your current company during the day. Though they had done nothing but peacefully sleep since you left them in bed.

You straightened your back against the wall and gently pulled the heavy black curtain covering the window next to you to the side, sending a ray of sunshine through the unnaturally dark room. You were careful not to draw the curtain back too far, just enough to drown the body in your bed in a pool of warm light.

Danny didn’t stir, not even a flinch or twitch of his brow when the sunlight engulfed him. He just continued to soundly sleep.

In the light, you could see the color in his skin, tanned and pink with blue-green veins just underneath the surface. A few purple bruises littered his otherwise perfect skin, evidence of how you had completely ruined him. He slept on his stomach, one leg free of the covers and nearly falling off the side of the bed, and one arm tucked up underneath his pillow. His raven hair was a dark contrast to the crisp white but visibly softer in comparison.

Some might think you were eying him with hunger (after having a taste the beast within was definitely scratching at the back of your brain, but you had learned to keep that side of yourself at bay for the most part). Danny had looked past that though and seen the real way you looked at him. In awe.

Letting the curtain slide back into place the sun disappeared back behind it. Your eyes hurt. From not sleeping after the night you just had, and from the residual UV you were no longer able to see for more than just a few brief moments at a time. It only took a minute for them to heal though and you were back to yourself. Sight adjusting to the dark the way it was now designed to be.

Danny had answered every question you’d hurled his way, which mostly satisfied you, but more questions still pricked at your mind.

“First of all, how did you know what I am?” You asked after Danny had so calmly and wantingly let you feed on him.

You remembered the way Danny sat up in the bed, causing your faces to come only centimeters apart. Your head was spinning from smelling the blood underneath the wound still on his neck.

“It’s sort of a long story, but I kind of know a few others, and once you know, it’s easy to spot you guys out. Especially when you all hang out in the same shitty bars every night” he’d flashed a crooked smile, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you even closer until you were having to crawl into his lap.

“Know a few others?” Your eyebrows knit together as you attempted to pry for more information. Yet you still placed your hands on his shoulders, careful not to get too close to his neck in case it was now tender to the touch.

He sucked his teeth, he knew this conversation would come, but there were so many other things on his mind right then. Like the way you felt when he used his grip to rock your hips into him, your still hardened length rubbing against his that was spent but quickly regrowing.

“I’ve been to nearly all the old grungy bars in Chicago, befriended a guy named Giovanni. He was a weird guy, always talked like it was the 20s or something. He told me his secret then just disappeared”.

“At first I didn’t believe him, I just thought ‘damn that guy is crazy’. But then I thought, ‘what if he wasn’t lying?’ So I went looking for him. Guy knew a lot of people around here, guess he was some kind of mob boss back in the day and still had a lot of loyal friends. That probably kept me out of trouble, because no one wanted to mess with one of Gio’s guys”.

“He told you his secret?” It was obvious what he meant, but you couldn’t believe this Giovanni guy had just casually revealed such a thing to a human and for no particular reason. Then your face felt uncharacteristically hot, a sudden possessiveness overcoming you. “Did he ever feed on you?”

Danny looked up, his hand moving up your back in feather light brushes of his fingertips along your spine until it came to rest on the back of your neck and he pulled you down into a kiss.

“No,” he quickly became shy, knowing now what an intimate experience it could be, “just then was the first time”. His breath came out hot against your cheek as he let his lips trail down to your neck now.

You shuddered at the feeling, that really was such a sensitive spot, and yet Danny had let you there knowing what you wanted to do all along.

“So, did you end up finding him?” Danny was doing a good job trying to distract you. Kissing and even nibbling all along the curve of your neck and across your collar then over to the other side, but you needed to know the rest of the story. How it ended with him walking into that particular bar the same night you returned to Chicago.

“No, I haven’t, but someone told me a few places to check. I’d go to a spot, stay a few nights and see if he’d turn up, then move onto the next one. Piwnic Cellar was the hardest one to find and the last on my list.”

“Where are you going to look next then?” You hadn’t found a reason for why you had come back to Chicago yet, but if Danny asked you to, you would help him look for his friend, even if every fiber of your being would want to fight to keep him all to yourself.

Danny unlatched his lips from your cool skin with a slight whimper of disappointment from you, liking too much the way his mouth heated you up everywhere he kissed. He shook his head “I don’t think I’m going to look for him anymore. If I haven’t found him yet, then I don’t think he wants to be found.” He took a moment to organize his thoughts, the friction that had been steadily growing between your bodies slowing if only for a moment. “Besides, I’ve found someone better”.

“He was a good friend, helped me in a lot of ways when he was around. He was always just that though, and he left me”.

A new wave of emotions washed over you, protectiveness of course, but also the want to comfort him, slight pity, and disdain for your kind’s fleeting habits. Before you could correctly put together what you truly wanted you blurted out “I can be your friend Danny”.

A breathy chuckle left him, his chest rising and falling against yours with how close you were holding yourselves together. “I don’t want to just be your friend Jake.”

A sly smile played itself on your face, because Danny was telling you that he felt the same way you felt in this moment. “Then what do you want?” You had to make sure though, you wanted him to tell you, to hear him say it and revel in the way his voice sounded the words.

“I want to be lovers, starting tonight, right now”.

You crashed your lips back into his, the impact so hard that his bottom lip was slightly cut open against his teeth.

“Sorry” you apologized, tasting the hint of sweet blood again and turning you on all the more.

To fix it you bit down onto the tip of your tongue and used your thumb to gently pull on his swollen lip so you could investigate the damage. Right in the middle was the tiny gash in the delicate glistening skin. You licked over the cut, immediately healing it, and then continued to kiss him only this time slowly and more carefully.

“When you said you want me to have you any way I needed?” you began to ask another question when you pulled back, only this time your questions would hopefully lead to something fun.

“Mhmmm” Danny hummed, nuzzling his face back into the crook of your neck and beginning to wiggle his hips upwards from underneath you hoping you would get the hint.

You used just a little bit of your strength to push him back down onto the pillows, his eyes blowing wide with surprise and then glowing with excitement.

“Well I want to…” you let your voice trail off, not because you were embarrassed, but because you liked the way Danny was squirming from the anticipation. You were still straddling him, but you moved a knee between his legs, then the other, until you were spreading them back apart and ghosting your fingers along the pink mark still left on his thigh.

“You want to what Jake?” He lifted a leg and let the back of his calf hook around your waist in an attempt to keep you there this time.

The next move he made sent you into an absolute frenzy. He ran his hand up the expanse of his torso. You could hear his breath quicken at the way even his own hands made his body feel as he touched himself. Then he ran his fingers through his hair at the crown, letting his full body be on display for you. His other hand sneakily came to place on his completely hard again cock. “You want to fuck me now Jake?”

You held your breath, not like it was hard for you when you didn’t really need to breathe at all, as your eyes scanned everywhere they could. From the way his fingers dug into his scalp as he pulled gently at his roots, the way he brought his lip between his teeth, no residual pain from the cut only moments ago. The slight concave of his chest between his pecs to the rosy color of his hardened nipples. The tautness of his stomach though not defined, definitely toned.

You were careful and diligent with preparing him making sure he would enjoy it, though eager to connect yourselves again. As soon as he was begging for more you were already lining yourself up and pressing inside with a slow exhale to steady yourself.

You started off pacing yourself though quickly losing it at the sound of his whining for you to go “faster”, “harder” until you were both creating a rhythm with your bodies.

“I can be your lover too” you whispered when he was nearing his second orgasm. “And I won’t leave you”.

“Sleep well?” You asked when Danny finally stirred at the smell of food.

“What’s all of this?” He questioned with a shocked smile, looking around at all the plates of food covering nearly every surface of the room.

You moved from where you had taken occupancy at the desk onto the corner of the bed, feeling kind of silly now that all of the food was here. It was a lot more than you had expected.

“I knew you would be hungry when you woke up, but I didn’t know what you liked, so I ordered one of everything off the room service menu”.

“You did what?” He laughed, though the light in his eye as he searched for the plate that smelled the most delicious showed that he was actually quite thankful for your decision- as over the top as it was. “There's no way I can eat all of this though”.

“Well, have whatever you’d like. We can store some of it in the fridge and I’ll dispose of the rest” you watched as he got out of the bed and made his way to the desk you were just sitting at, grabbing a plate of some sort of pasta on his way.

“I’d hate for any of it to go to waste though” he took a bite and you guessed it must have been good since his eyes closed and he let out a content little hum. “You can’t eat any of this?”

You were nervous at first to reply truthfully, but after watching him sleep all day you’d started to feel a little more trusting, just a little.

“I could if I had to. To keep up appearances or whatever, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t go anywhere. I’d have to cough it up later”.

Danny raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly, taking another bite graciously knowing that at least he could enjoy this.

“I wouldn’t want to eat any of it though. Human food doesn’t really taste good anymore”.

“Is that so? That’s unfortunate because this pasta is heavenly”.

You smiled over at him, glad he was liking it and hopeful that he would be able to regain some of his strength after filling his stomach.

“Does blood taste good to you then?” The question caught you off guard as he turned the conversation around though he didn’t seem unnerved by it at all.

“Seemed like you liked it quite a lot last night” he added at the end with a smirk between more bites.

“Seemed like you liked it a lot last night too” you replied, leaning back onto your hands and crossing your legs.

Danny was still shirtless, having not bothered to put any clothes on after waking up and smelling all the food, and you let your eyes wander over his body again. A hollowness grew in your stomach that was not from years of a lack of eating food, but from the images of him lying underneath you last night flooding back.

You’d remembered everything that happened, but now that Danny had a good sleep did he still feel the same way? Does he still want to be lovers?

What a silly thing to be worried about you thought to yourself. You were anxious like you had never been in this position with anyone before. Perhaps it was your past that made you so apprehensive and careful.

“Hey,” Danny set his utensils down and moved from the desk back over to where you were on the bed, dropping down to his knees in front of you and placing a gentle hand on your knee that was crossed over the other. “You look far off, is everything okay?”

He seemed worried as well, but confident enough to approach you about it.

“I was just thinking about some things you said last night and wondering if you still felt the same”. Your eyes were avoiding his, so instead you fixed your vision on his hand and the way his thumb was ever so slightly rubbing into the fabric of your pants in a subtle massage.

“Depends on which things I said you’re thinking about” he replied with a lopsided smile, not helping your nerves at all.

Reading the energy in the room growing darker with your worry he quickly corrected himself, “I’m kidding! You’re talking about wanting to be lovers right? Of course I still feel the same, why wouldn’t I?”

It was comforting to hear him say that, but now you were only worried he might think you were second guessing things if you didn’t clarify yourself. “I thought maybe you were just in the mood, you know. Just wanted to make sure now that you got it out of your system it didn’t change things”.

“Got it out of my system?” He laughed and knocked you onto the bed as his arms came to wrap around your shoulders. “You think I’ve ‘gotten it out of my system’ after only one time? Not even close Jake!”

If your heart still beat then it would have jumped from your chest. You weren’t sure what you’d done to suddenly deserve someone as bright as Danny but it was increasingly becoming easier to let your guard down around him.

Danny didn’t leave your hotel room for four nights. The two of you becoming completely lost within each other without a care for the outside world until one night Danny woke up next to you and started to get dressed without a word.

“Going somewhere?” You questioned as he was slipping on his boots, trying not to sound too overbearing but honestly intrigued by where he was suddenly in a hurry to get off to. He was free to come and go whenever he wanted to of course, but you didn’t want him to go even after all the time you had spent together.

“Have to go to work tonight” he answered matter-of-factly. With all the conversations you shared, you were surprised his mystery job never came up before now.

“Work?”

“Yeah, I have a show tonight”.

Show?

He laughed at your confused expression, understanding that it was very sudden that he was leaving and that he hadn’t brought it up sooner.

“Would you like to come?” He offered instead of an explanation, and without anything better to do you agreed.

After a quick stop at his apartment for him to change into new clothes, some tight black jeans, a patterned button up with the top three buttons left undone, and a brown leather jacket since it was another cold and windy night in Chicago, you were entering one of his frequent grungy bars.

“Hey! There he is!” A few guys immediately recognized him and sent a wave in his direction.

“Hey man, this is Jake” Danny quickly introduced you to his friends. This guy really did get along with everyone didn’t he.

“Is Tony in the back already?”

“Yeah he’s getting you set up. Going to be another good show tonight?”

“Always is!” Danny flashed his bright smile and waved again before taking your hand and leading you through another door into the back area of the bar.

This room was larger than the front but with less tables, and situated in the corner was a small stage with a few old looking speakers on either side.

“Here, this is the best seat” he led you to one of the few tables and pulled out a chair. It was a tall table, so although there were quite a few people standing around in front of the stage, you still had a good view. “I’ll see you in a bit then”. He squeezed your hand before letting go and walking over to the stage.

You felt out of place. Though the bar was just like many others you’d wasted nights away in, this bar was different in the way that it was full of life not the undead. You focused in on a few random conversations as you watched Danny disappear through another door behind the stage.

When he returned his long raven hair was pulled back into a messy bun and he was carrying a scuffed up old acoustic guitar. One that was colored in fiery oranges that faded into near glossy black around the edges. He picked up a cord that was connected to the amps and plugged it into the bottom of his guitar before perching himself against the stool and adjusting the mic to the correct height.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” His voice resonated through the rattling speakers, soft and meek even though it was being projected through the room.

The conversations died down as everyone started to turn their attention towards Danny, excited that the show they had come to see was finally getting started.

“For those of you who have seen my set before, I usually start with my song Alive about overcoming challenges, but tonight I’d like to start in the middle of the set instead” he paused to look around and make sure everyone was on board with his split decision, and although there were murmurs no one objected.

“Truth is, I met someone who has made me feel very important. Someone compassionate, and a little edgy, but beautiful” his eyes flicked over to you for a moment, only long enough for you to catch them but not long enough for anyone else to really notice. “So tonight I want to start with Moonlight instead and it’s about falling in love”.

The music filled the entire room as he strummed a heartwarming melody and then his voice came back, this time in song. It took you by surprise, much like many things that involved Danny did, but in a good way. He played beautifully, and his voice was quiet yet powerful, having almost a folky feeling with his own personal touch.

The energy in the room was swarming as Danny’s set continued. A few people moved further towards the front of the stage to try and get Danny’s attention while he strummed away at his guitar but he merely closed his eyes and rocked along on the stool letting himself feel the music his fingers were producing. A few others were feeling the music as well, pairing up and dancing with each other, swaying through the little crowd.

A young girl approached you from behind, asking if there was anything she could get you from the bar.

Though you briefly gave her your attention, your eyes flickered back over to Danny who was now also watching your interaction from up on the stage. You suddenly remembered all the nights you watched from your seat at the bar as Danny pranced around with guy after guy, locking eyes with you from across the room just like you were now.

“Yes actually” you smiled over at the girl who seemed to be rather interested in who you were since you weren’t one of her regulars. “I’ll take your best whiskey, double, neat”.

“Of course, I’ll be right back” she flashed you a smile back and left to get your order. When she returned only moments later she set the glass down onto the table but her hand lingered even as you reached over to take it. Your fingers brushed against hers as you reached for the glass and you could see the way her face flushed with the slight touch before she retreated and you took a sip.

“Perfect” you commented when she didn’t leave right away, making sure the whiskey was to your liking.

“Anything else I can get for you?” She was stalling, she wanted you to talk to her, ask her about her night or tell her something about yours. Although you could still feel Danny watching, your animalistic instincts started to overcome you as you reached over and brushed her long wavy hair over her shoulder.

Yes, there is something else you could get for me. The voice in your mind echoed as you examined the curve of her neck and how her pulse beat quickly in the large vein right there on her jugular.

Though you had managed to sneak away into the bathroom while Danny slept to drink from your few remaining blood bags, you really needed to feed again.

All you had to do was sneak her out back somewhere while Danny was busy playing. She would know the way and she seemed like she’d be more than willing to escort you if you asked. You’d only take a little, just enough to hold you over, to satisfy the beast.

Just when you were about to make the suggestion, your eyes flickered back over to Danny who had a sour look on his usually cheerful face. Your stomach turned. Did he know you were thinking about making this girl your next meal? Was he disgusted by you?

“I can make you another if you like it?” She spoke up. Though she wanted to wait around with you she did need to get back to work.

Your shoulders fell a little, but you nodded your head and watched as you let your chance at a fresh drink get away from you.

What were you thinking, being on the hunt while Danny was so close. He had been so calm and accepting of your existence, but that didn’t mean he’d want to see you sneaking away with someone knowing what you were off to do. Even if you wouldn’t hurt her, it must weigh on his conscience to watch.

She brought you another glass, only this time she just set it on the table and left. You tossed back that one just as you had the first and waited for the alcohol to start to take its effect.

If there was anything you were glad you could still experience it was getting a good buzz.

Danny finished his last song and gently set his guitar down in the corner before turning to chat with a few guys. They started to have a look at one of the speakers. The one you noticed had a slight rattling sound coming from it though were certain no one else noticed. Danny had noticed and you were impressed, he had a good ear.

Another drink started to sound like a good idea. Just as Danny finished up his conversation he started a b-line through the crowd towards you.

Before you could suggest visiting the bar he was murmuring into your ear “Follow me” and his hand was in yours again, tugging you along through the door he had disappeared behind earlier.

It led to a small tech room, practically a closet, full of old dusty equipment and his guitar case.

Danny pressed you up against the wall and attacked your mouth with his.

“You know how hard it was to watch you from up there and not want to tear through that crowd and take you right there on that table?” His voice was quiet, slightly rasped from the exertion of singing for the last half hour.

A moan fell from your lips as Danny’s hand cupped you over your jeans, the heat from his palm already causing you to buck your hips up into it.

Though you had both explored each other's bodies extensively the past few days, Danny had willingly been on the receiving end every time. It’s not that you were opposed to any other position, it had just worked itself that way, at least up until now.

“Then take me now Danny” another moan came when his other hand had already started to work at undoing your jeans. “God, I want to feel you so fucking bad”.

You were gripping onto his shoulders and pushing back against the wall to hold yourself up as he pulled your pants off and tossed them to the side. There was no remembering if Danny had stopped to lock the door, or if there even was a lock on that door, but by this point you were already half naked and didn’t care.

“I will Jake, but you have to be quiet” he commanded as he kissed up your neck and behind your ear. “Don’t want someone interrupting us while I’m making a mess of you do we?”

So the door doesn’t lock, great. It shouldn’t be a problem you thought. You were a predator, stealth and being quiet when necessary were a few of your talents, but oh were you wrong.

“Quiet Jake, I said you have to be quiet” he kept muttering into your ear as he pounded up into you and you were crying his name over and over with each beat. He had one of your knees hooked around his arm to hoist it up and the other was beside your face with his palm pressed against the wall behind you.

“Here, bite me” he moved his hand on the wall closer towards you but you hesitated, unsure what he was really telling you to do.

“It will quiet you down, it’s okay, just bite me”.

You turned your head and was met with the silky expanse of Danny’s forearm. Ropes of muscle taught against the skin from holding himself up.

Letting your lips latch onto him first you thought it might be enough. Your voice did calm, but as you kissed and sucked further down his arm you could feel his pulse fluttering.

Instinct took over and you did bite him, your mouth filling with the hot delicious liquid. It was smoother than the whisky, searing its way down your throat in a soothing rush.

Danny’s head fell into your shoulder as his hips staggered, but he persisted with his upwards movements until the coil in his stomach snapped and he was filling you up just as you took your last drink.

You healed his wound quickly and he eased you back onto both feet, fighting to catch his breath and catch his head from spinning.

“I don’t want you to be with anyone else like this” he confessed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. The sound of his heartbeat thundering through your head. “I saw you with that girl and I knew what you wanted. It made me jealous”.

“Jealous?” How could he have been jealous of such a thing? And how could you have been so wrong when reading him? Then it hit you, both times you had fed from him it had been during sex. Though it wasn’t always such an experience, he didn't know it any other way.

“I see, I’m sorry” your hands came up and wrapped around his lower back, holding him just as tight as he was holding you. “I didn’t mean to upset you but I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt anyone. It’s my folly, the sick and twisted joke of the fate of my damned existence”.

“You’re a gentle soul Jake, don’t let what you are define who you are” he squeezed you tighter, moving to rest his cheek on the top of your head. “I’m sorry too, I don’t usually act that way, I guess you just bring out another side of me I didn’t know was there”.

“It’s okay Danny” you moved to look up at him and he matched your gaze, adding a quick kiss to your cheek “I kind of liked it”.

Danny’s lips pulled into a smile against your cheek and he exhaled a sigh of relief you didn’t know he’d been holding in.

“Come on, I'm going to go back home for the night. Get some rest; cook myself a meal. You should do the same” Danny explained, insinuating that despite his confession only moments ago he was going to give you some room to hunt in solitary. Though you didn’t want to be parted from him, he had the right idea, so you agreed and headed out while he stayed to finish up a few things.

Walking the dimly lit streets you had everything but the search for a meal at the forefront of your mind. Worry was the most prominent as you fought off thoughts of Danny needing space to reevaluate his position.

He had said he was jealous, that meant he felt possessive in a way as well. It still perplexed you though how accepting he was of your needs.

You’d tried every argument with yourself over the years. That it was only natural, following a simple food chain. That you had taught yourself to be careful and only take what you needed l, never more.

Sometimes you had nights like tonight where it just felt like excuses. Those nights were the ones that your inner beast would take over and you would take a little too much, you would nearly hurt somebody. So instead while your mind raced with doubt, your feet carried you towards your old bar and you sat in your same spot hoping another drink would dull the pain.

“Where the hell have you been?” Irene questioned with a wicked smile when she saw you occupying your seat. Then she saw you were alone, face even paler than she’d seen it before.

“I’d say you look like shit, but I’m sure you already know that” she pulled out a glass and your usual bottle as she spoke. “Have a rough go with your new friend?”

“Danny” you corrected her. Even if you were in a worrisome state, you still couldn’t stand the sound of Danny being referred to as just a ‘friend’. The thoughts of that first night coming rushing back to you again were at least a comfort. “Actually, I just had the best few nights I’ve had in at least a decade”.

“Then what are you doing back here? I figured once I saw you two disappear out that door you wouldn’t be back for a bit, but less than a week?”

“He's… giving me space to find someone to feed on. Can’t say I have much of an appetite right now though”.

She raised a brow as she worked on cleaning a few glasses while you talked, with it still being rather early in the night she wasn’t that busy yet. “So he knows then?”

“Yeah, knew before we even met. Some guy named Giovani told him. That name ring any bells by the way?” Since Danny had told you his story about learning vampires really existed you were itching to get to Irene, the only one still left in Chicago you trusted.

“I’ve heard of him, he didn’t come around here much. Had his own place he ran closer to downtown, in fact I think it’s named Gio’s”. Her eyes trailed off into the distance, memory always being a difficult thing to navigate when you had so many years of them to shuffle through. Never knowing when even the most insignificant of them would someday be of use. “Naming his bar after himself sounds right, he was a little arrogant”.

“Any idea where else he might be? Apparently he’s given a few people the slip”.

“I’ll see what I can dig up for you. Will I be seeing you in here more often again?”

You sighed, swirling the amber liquid that was left in your glass around a few times before tossing it back. “Not sure, tonight I just needed somewhere else to be other than alone in my room”.

“Damn Jake” she filled your glass once more, reaching over and squeezing your hand for a bit of reassurance. “I haven’t seen you so love-sick since Helen”.

Helen. You hadn’t heard that name spoken aloud in so long. Weren’t even sure if your lips could still form it working quivering.

“Sorry” she noticed the way you slightly winced, figuring it was still too soon even after just over 70 years passing.

“No, you’re alright. I’ve actually been thinking about telling him about what happened. It’s interesting, I don’t talk about it much, but I’d found myself thinking about them just before I came back. I’m sure that’s partly the reason why I did. To find some closure or something. Then I met Danny, and you’re right, I haven’t felt the same with anyone, until now”.

Her worried expression softened and a small hopeful smile appeared, “I think you should, she was a big part of you, still is in some ways. He’d want to know”.

“Thanks love” she left you to nurse your last drink, trying to fill as much of your time with the slight comfort of a familiar surrounding before kicking your feet back to your hotel.

Once back to your room you took your shoes off and undressed so you could get into the shower, turning on the hot water while you did so to let the steam fog up the bathroom before getting in.

Just when you were about to step in, a knock racked across the door.

You grabbed a fresh towel and wrapped it around your waist, unsure of who could possibly be at the door at nearly 4am.

Not even bothering to check the peephole you swung the door open, immediately being surprised with who you saw.

“I couldn’t sleep, can I come in?” Danny sheepishly asked, his hands stuffed into his pockets and his shoulders hanging.

You pulled him inside and into your arms without a word, his lips coming down onto yours in a silent acknowledgment of your shared relief.

“Were you about to take a shower?” He chuckled, pulling back to take in your state of near undress.

“Want to join me?” You smirked and he leaned over to kiss you again as you both stumbled into the bathroom.

“I want to tell you a story” you began as you turned his hand over in your grip. You were nestled into the crook of his arm, legs tangled together underneath the covers, and hair still drying from the long shower. The curtains in the hotel room were pulled tightly shut before the two of you crawled into bed together in anticipation of the sun rising soon. It felt right to have him back here with you. Although just laying in each other's arms sounded like a perfect end to the night, after having some time to think you knew you needed to talk.

“What’s it about?” He replied, voice slow and fighting sleep.

“It’s about the two people who were most important in the world to me”. You looked up and watched as his eyes opened wide, a rush of energy lighting him up again.

“I don’t really know where to start” you began, shuffling down further into the bed and wrapping an arm around his chest to hold onto. “I guess it would be the fall of 1949, that’s the year we met Helen. She was a war widow, a young one, and a respected member of the community”.

Danny could tell where the story was leading, Helen being one of your past loves, but there was one detail he needed clarification on.

“We?”

“Well, Josh and I, my brother”.

“You have a brother?” He sounded excited, definitely not having expected to hear about a blood relative of a vampire as old as you were.

“Twin actually”. There was a story to how the two of you came to be vampires together, but that was one for another night.

“Helen caught both of our attention. She’s the sweetest girl I’d ever had the pleasure of meeting, but she had a fire to her too, one that made courting her all the more fun. Even though I knew my brother liked her too, I sought her out for myself and she did become mine, for a while at least”.

“Eventually I couldn’t keep my secret from her. I was so afraid she would hate me when I told her. You see I had never told a human that before and telling people at that time was very dangerous. She still wanted to be with me though, wanted to be with me forever actually. I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t change anything about her even if I knew it meant one day I’d lose her. I felt like having her the way she was for as long as I could would be enough”.

“That was until she got sick. It happened so fast, at one point she was healthy, and then she was dying. I panicked, I knew her time compared to mine would be short, but that was too short. I still couldn’t do it though, so I took her to Josh, begged him to save her, and he did. Josh turned her and everything changed”.

“The thing is, our kind typically mate for life. You’re drawn to someone and it’s like once that connection is made no one else makes sense, just them. I thought Helen was it, the one I was drawn to, but I wasn’t it for her. Josh was, and when he turned her the feelings only heightened. I guess because we’re twins, share the same DNA, the love she felt for me as a human was just a manifestation of that bond she and Josh now share”.

“I was heart broken for years. Thought I was doomed to face my long life loving the same person as my brother. So I moved away, came to Chicago in the 70s, tried to start another family, messed around a little and got into some trouble. The time away helped a little, but it still felt too fresh, too close, so I moved even further away. Europe was a good distraction, but I started to realize the more I tried to numb the pain, the more I started to cut off all emotions”.

“I couldn’t live like that any longer, alone and homeless, so I decided to move back. I’m still not sure exactly what I'm doing or where home is, but I guess the point of telling you this story is that for the first time in a long time I'm letting myself feel everything”.

“I want you to know that for the first time in a long time you have made me feel happy. There’s a light in you Danny that I thought I’d never see again. It’s big and bright and beautiful and I want to let it envelop me in its warmth, but it also scares me. I’m afraid the darkness in me will dim the light in you. I’m afraid of putting my heart out there again. I’m afraid of losing y-”.

Danny had been patiently listening to everything you told him up until this point when he interrupted you by wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you to lay on top of him. “Jake, you have nothing to be afraid of. I came back to you tonight didn’t I? I’m not going anywhere”.

You shuffled onto your knees, one on either side of his waist, and pulled yourself up leaving just a few inches between your faces. “You did, and you don’t even know how happy that made me. I want to promise you that I won’t make the same mistakes I made before”. You cupped his face tenderly in your hands, taking in the slight flush in his cheeks and the mossy shine in his irises as he stared back up at you. “I’ll do anything for you Danny. I’m yours now and I hope with all that I have left in me that you will be mine”.

Danny placed one of his large palms on top of your hand and pulled it across his cheek until he was pressing the pads of your fingers into his mouth. “I’m yours Jake” he whispered, his lips moving against your fingers in a hot tickle. “Thank you for telling me about Helen and Josh. I hope to meet them one day. When you’re ready. Until then I’m here with you”.

He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, letting his hand fall back down to rest on your hip and giving you back control of your own. You let your fingers trace the shape of his lips, then down to the shape of his jaw until you were digging into the hairs at the back of his neck. You lowered yourself again until your lips met his and you kissed him passionately.

It wasn’t an I love you yet, but you felt safe here as Danny kissed you back, sealing your promise.

#Greta van smut #greta van fleet #danny wagner #jake kiszka #janny gvf #vampire! Jake #Spotify

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terrence-silver · 1 year

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Hey hey! Been thinking of McCain lately... do you possibly have any headcons for Terry McCain x criminal!beloved? Would love to hear your thoughts on this!

---

― Yes, he will judge you. Of course he will judge you. He doesn't have an understanding or too much empathy for your particular lifestyle or your particular kind. He thinks it is wrong. That you're wrong. That the way you live is wrong. That you're endangering innocent civilians and people in law enforcement alike, one way or another, or at least that the people you associate with do, and that by extension, you bear part of the moral blame. That you should be apprehended, corrected and penalized, plain and simple. You're one of the many reasons this city is the way it is and the reason why his job is the way it is and if we're honest, yes, Terry McCain will be very much antagonistic and a full-on hard ass in the beginning. Just part of his overall personality, belief system and professional deformation. At best, he thinks you need rehabilitation within the system itself, behind bars, perhaps doing some sort of community work --- pretty much whatever the judge decides, and that's him being extremely kind. At worst? Well, at worst, he thinks that if the justice of said system fails (which, in his experience, it often does, unfortunately) and doesn't punish you the way he feels is due, that good old vigilantism can easily take its place and that he should just do it himself. As usually. Wouldn't be the first time for him.

― Now, it doesn't even matter what sort of criminal activity the subject of his fixation indulges in. Could be smaller thievery and pickpocketing around supermarkets to survive, vandalism, vagrancy, peddling narcotics, using said narcotics, sex work (and he does see this as a criminal offense), entanglement with the local mobs or flat out something larger, more serious that gets his attention much easier, but still, Terry will behave borderline paternalistic in a 'You live like this?' sort of way where he tries, at least tries to correct you and yes, it could come off passive aggressive to aggressive initially. He will not be a nice person to run into, let us be real for a second. He doesn't intend to be nice to you. He intends to set you straight and scare you into behaving properly. Be it by getting in your face, snarking you, threatening arrests, actually arresting, getting physical, taking you into custody overnight, writing you tickets, hitting you with fees; it really doesn't matter. This particular detective? He's doing too much. He's doing the job of an ordinary, day-to-day, commonplace streetcorner cop. Something that doesn't even pertain to his high function. So, why does he do it? Why is he on your case? Shouldn't he be after bigger crooks out there?

― Not even McCain himself knows why he does what he does, truth to tell. He thinks he's doing right by the streets of Chicago, the overall public peace and justice itself, with no task 'too small' for him due to him being humble about doing his work and doing it well (often by any means necessary), but truth of the matter, these are the beginnings of his obsession rearing their head, without him realizing or even wanting to admit to it. Whatever you're doing is a problem for the smalltime police, not a full blown detective, but he tells himself the police is overworked and overburdened and not always capable of doing the job it is meant to do so he has to step in. He has no choice, see. You've given him no choice. As such, he's always where you are. Always in your shadow. Always close by. Always seeping venom into your face. Always measuring your behavior. Warning you. Always there. If someone didn't know this man has a badge it would be easy to imagine him as a stalker, which is exactly what he is anyway. An possessive stalker at that. If the smalltime police he branded as 'overworked' actually steps in on your case he might actually step in himself, telling his own colleagues off, because you're his project. He'll deal with you himself. Nobody else will.

― Of course it is safe to say you've crawled inside of his brain and that even in his downtime he's thinking of you. Collecting files on you. Using and abusing his powers to amass intel. Making notes on you. Your associates. Pondering you even if he's otherwise engaged in a relationship with someone else. Pacing around his apartment in the dead of night just letting his intrusive thoughts run back to you, what you're doing right now. Right this very instant. Might just hit the streets to find you and track you down, feeling that this very moment, you could be up to no good, as always. Might just get into an altercation and save you if you're in trouble, justifying that he's still a good guy at the end of the day and that it is your own fault for living the life you do. If you lived correctly, this wouldn't be happening, or at least not as frequently. Now, what if he wasn't here to protect you? What do you think could've happened to you!? He's behaving less like a guy in law enforcement tackling a criminal and more like a concerned, albeit abjectly judgmental and difficult friend sharing some tough love to someone who has strayed. A worried parent, a worried, dare I say, loved one? His delivery isn't always mellow, but he feels his heart is in the right place.

― Of course his colleagues notice McCain has a fixation that just goes way beyond the professional and straight into the personal, and whether they call him out on it or not, he might just very much deny it or deny he's having the type of fixation they claim he's having all while still running amok whenever you're in question. At this point, he wants to rehabilitate you himself because he feels this is his cross to bear and nobody can bear it for him. He won't allow anyone else to bear it. Tries to have well meaning talks with you, one on one. Finds you address and breaks in to check on your dwelling situation. Tries to downright irritate and wear you down into listening to him for once because he knows better. Should he just cuff you, drive off with you and get you to listen like that, by force? Tries to fix your life for you because...he cares, damnit. Ensures you can't shake him off. The streets, lowlife dens, these lairs, hangouts and shady places are not fit for you. The company you keep isn't fit you, notwithstanding that his concern is peppered with jealousy because his company, he feels, is infinitely worthier. A good life is possible. Or a better life, for starters.

― Might start arresting all your ehm, compatriots out on the streets, one by one, if his beloved has any, to the point you'll be the only one left, totally isolated and cut off from the rest of them, with him, ironically, as your only support system and the only one you could possibly turn to. He's totally not envious, no. See? He's serious. Don't mess with him. He's not to be trifled with. Only reason he hasn't done it to you (yet) is because he thinks, no, he knows in fact, that you've potential. That you're better than them. There's a good heart somewhere in there. You don't need yet another police dossier besmirching your future, do you? What you need is an intervention. He'll offer you an intervention, sure, all while not being fully aware he needs an intervention too because he's fallen and he's fallen hard. Terry McCain has fallen for you to the point of bias, blindness and even starting to justify you in ways he wouldn't dream of doing before. Well, maybe you strayed down the path you did because of a bad childhood. Maybe the infrastructure is broken. You're disenfranchised. Urban poverty is rampant and offers little opportunities. The influence of corrupt people has corrupted you too.

― Fact is, yes, Terry McCain is in love to the point of complete and utter desperation, a moral crisis, an identity crisis and even righteous fury at your general circumstances, precisely because he cares for you so much and he's affected to the point of overemotional, unhinged rage at how you've been living before he's met you and after he has as well. What you must've gone through. What you allowed yourself to happen. What others around you allowed to happen to you. It is an extremely slowburn realization, but it is a realization nonetheless. He wants to scoop you up. Take you. Protect you. Look after you. Ensure you never go down a bad, dangerous or negative path again, not while he's alive and even if he's not. He wants to apprehend, put away and wreak havoc on every pimp, kingpin, trafficker, drug dealer, gang leader, gangster, mobster or handler who's ever used you for nefarious purposes out on the legal margins of society. Convinced you to do bad. Profited off of it. If Terry was your natural enemy before, he's not just a friend now, he's an advocate for your general well-being. Your saintly guardian. The thought of you not being safe or living a life that is dangerous sends to a dark, decrepit place where he could downright start killing just to ensure you're alright.

― He becomes gentle, yes. You're no longer a criminal or some common thug he can manhandle or push around in his eyes. Rather, you become someone who was seduced down a bad road. Someone groomed. Taken advantage of. Someone blackmailed. Someone whose situation offered them no way out. Someone in need of rescue. A victim. A victim he must avenge. He deals in absolutes. You're either the villain or you're the angel. His angel. No in-betweens. Just about adores you to the point he refuses to acknowledge any fault of yours and if he does, he finds ways to justify those as well. Delusional, much? Maybe. His vocabulary becomes infinitely more considerate and so do his actions towards you, at least. He ensures you're sheltered. Rehabilitated. Away from bad influences and in fact, away from all influences that isn't his own. He uses all the powers within his position to make sure you're taken care of and that he's right there taking care of you too, and in fact, that he's the main and only person taking care of you. Yes, his intentions are amorous. And yes, once this trial period is over, you're coming with him because he'll make you the honest person he knows you're capable of being. What choice is there? Do you want to go jail and do time? Hit the streets again? Terry McCain would never allow that.

― Ideally, whether beloved's criminal (or ex-criminal) or not, Terry imagines a very conventionally and traditionally idyllic life no matter how you slice it. Perhaps even more so if you had what would be deemed 'a worrying past'. To counter that, the future should be kinder, warmer, all the more normal to balance things out and redeem everything and yeah, he thinks that's a goal worth fighting for. Yes, he wants a Christmas Tree, he wants sappy, ugly sweaters and opening presents with you next to a roaring fireplace, he wants a home with you, he wants weekends at some cozy, crowded bar where he can sing and play for you, he wants to keep a pet or two with you, he wants you to never be in a dangerous position again, he wants to protect you, look after you, he wants your warm hands in his, sharing a coat out on a freezing pier mid-December somewhere, he wants autumnal, rain soaked walks and he wants you well and happy. Of course, forming a stable relationship with someone who has a police dossier might not go down that smoothly with his own colleagues and work associates but when he has Terry McCain, hotheaded and stubborn that he is, ever cared about what anyone thought?

#terry mccain #excessive force #excessive force 1993 #terry mccain x reader #terry mccain x beloved #criminal!reader #criminal!beloved #law enforcement #crime and criminals

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mogai-sunflowers · 2 years

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MOGAI BHM- Day 1!

Happy BHM! To celebrate the first day of Black History Month, I figured I’d make my first post about the history of BHM itself! i highly recommend you read the whole post, but if you do genuinely struggle with reading very long posts, I will have a summary/conclusion at the end!

Carter G. Woodson-

[Image ID: A black-and-white, portrait-style photograph of Carter G. Woodson. He is thin, Black with a medium-dark skin tone, and is wearing a black suit jacket over a white button-up collared shirt with a necktie that is grey with small white polka dots. He is wearing his hair in corn rows, and has a somewhat solemn expression on his face. End ID.]

The history of Black History Month would be entirely incomplete without discussing Carter G. Woodson! Woodson never in his lifetime got to see official establishments and celebrations of BHM, but he is nevertheless integral to its history.

Carter G. Woodson was born in 1875. Growing up, he was quite poor, and his schooling was very limited- he was mostly self taught. He taught himself basic subjects, and he graduated from high school only two years after entering. He worked in West Virginian coal mines to earn additional income for his family.

From an early age, Woodson was interested in teaching and history. Before getting his bachelors degree in literature from Kentucky’s Berea College, he worked as both a teacher and a school principal, and after graduating with his bachelor’s degree, he went on to travel Europe and Asia before returning to America to earn a master’s degree from the University of Chicago, and he then became the second Black American to ever attend and graduate from Harvard University. Eventually, he became the Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences at Howard University, an HBCU!

The ASNLH, ‘N*gro History Week’, And More

[Image ID: A newspaper clip from 1976. The newspaper clip has three columns of content- the right and left columns are text, and the central column is a picture of Carter G. Woodson’s face with his name as a caption. The title of the article is written across the whole top of the clipping and it reads: “Carter Woodson: Father Of Black History Month In U.S.” The text in both columns reads:

“Editor’s Note: Today marks the beginning of Black History Month, which continues through Feb. 29. In observance of this period, we think it appropriate to begin by running this article by Howard James Jones, who writes a column entitled, “Black Folk In American Civilization”, which runs in the Daily World.

February is celebrated as Black History Month. It received this designation as a result of the dream of one man who was able to work with a number of other persons to make this dream a reality. This seer was that he could do research for his dissertation at the Library of Congress. In 1909, he began teaching French, Spanish, English, and History in the public schools of the District of Columbia. In 1912, his dissertation, “The Disruption of Virginia”, was accepted by Harvard and he was awarded the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. Afterwards, he served as Dean of The School of Liberal Arts at Howard University, but left because he did not agree with certain administration policies. He eventually gave up teaching altogether for this same reason.”

End ID.]

In the summer of 1915, Woodson attended an event which celebrated the 50th anniversary of emancipation. While the event was wildly popular and successful, it also coincided with Woodson being barred from conferences at the AHA, the American History Association. He realized that his goal of celebrating and recording Black history could not be achieved simply working within the framework of the AHA, so in 1915, he founded the Association for the Study of N*gro Life and History, or the ASNLH, which still exists today under the name the Association for the Study of African American Life and History, ASALH.

In 1916, he founded the Journal of N*gro History, which to this day remains a published journal under the name the Journal of African American History. The award-winning journal highlights stories from Black history and offers book reviews as well.

Woodson’s fraternity brothers sided with him when they helped him found N*gro History and Literature Week, later renamed N*gro Achievement Week, in 1924. While it had a significant impact, Woodson was not fully satisfied with it and wanted to go further. So, in February of 1926, he established what would, in 50 years, become Black History Month- N*gro History Week.

Celebrations of N*gro History Week spread rapidly. They popped up all over the USA, and Woodson along with the ASNLH provided annual themes, study materials, and incentives for celebrations. The spread of N*gro History Week was massive. Official celebrations were established by political leaders, and many schools began forming N*gro History clubs.

Woodson’s Concerns-

While Woodson was definitely pleased with the reaction to N*gro History Week, he still had many concerns about it. Although he chose the second week of February to celebrate the week due to many Black communities across America celebrating the birthdays of Abraham Lincoln and Frederick Douglass, both of which occur in the second week of February, he personally disapproved of those celebrations because he believed that they gave to much emphasis to one or two great people, instead of highlighting the history of Black people as a whole.

This concern he brought to N*gro History Week- he worried that people would start only celebrating certain huge figures from Black history instead of celebrating all the Black people from Black history, whether or not they personally made huge advancements, because he believed that the greatness of Black history came not from a few important individuals, but from every single Black American.

Another concern that Woodson had was with the performativity of many N*gro History Week celebrations. He observed that, while many people did genuinely engage in celebrations, many also used it as an opportunity to appear progressive than to actually celebrate Black history. He believed that, if Black history were ever to be truly respected, it must not be confined to a singular week or period of time, but instead must be a constant, never-ceasing pursuit- year-round instead of confined to a time period.

Black History After Woodson-

Rest in power to Carter G. Woodson, who passed away on April 3, 1950.

In the 1950s and 1960s, Woodson’s legacy lived on. The drive to celebrate and commemorate Black history showed up in larger movements for racial change. The Freedom Schools of the South incorporated Black history into their curriculums, Black teachers fought for recognition of Black history within schools, and Woodson’s ASNLH continued to fight for institutional change regarding the celebration of Black history.

In 1976, the first American president officially endorsed February as Black History Month. Every president since has similarly endorsed it. To this day, Black History Month is a thriving celebration, in America and across the world. Although Carter G. Woodson didn’t survive to see the first official celebrations of Black History Month, his legacy lives on through BHM- and so does his call to a genuine commitment to anti-racism and Black history.

Summary/Conclusion/Key Points-

- Carter G. Woodson was a man dedicated to the pursuit of documenting, teaching, learning, and celebrating Black history. He was a teacher, a scholar, and a historian.

- In 1915, Woodson founded the ASNLH to promote independent institutionalization of Black history and its education. The next year, he founded the Journal of N*gro History. Both of these things still exist to this day.

- In 1926, Woodson founded N*gro History Week, which rapidly spread throughout the following decades. It was wildly popular and important, but also raised concerns about performativity.

- Woodson passed away in 1950. After his death, efforts to improve the education about Black history continued, especially in the South with activism from Black teachers.

- In 1976, Black History Month was first celebrated officially across America in February. Woodson’s legacy lives on to this day through BHM.

- While BHM is just a month long, Black history is constant and is not confined to one month of the year. Honor Black history in all you do, not just in February but at any and all opportunities across the whole year.

Sources-

Carter G. WoodsonDr. Carter Godwin Woodson, distinguished Black author, editor, publisher, and historian, recognized for his role in establishing Black HistoNAACP

University of Chicago Press Journals: Cookie absentRCNI COMPANY LIMITED

Origins of Black History Month – ASALH – The Founders of Black History MonthASALH.ORG

Black History MonthFebruary is Black History Month. Paying tribute to the generations of African Americans who struggled with adversity to achieve full citizeBLACKHISTORYMONTH.GOV

#mogai #mogai bhm #mogai community #blm #black lives matter #bhm #black history month

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ereardon · 2 years

Text

A Place Like This [Chapter 2][Rhett Abbott x OC]

Summary: Rhett Abbott has never met a girl like you. You’re a corporate city girl in Wabang on borrowed company time — he thinks there’s no way you would waste it on him. So when you fall for the local bull rider, you’re both a little surprised. What will it take to get Rhett to realize he can give you everything you’re looking for? And will Rhett be able to reconcile the fact that your job is literally to dismantle Wabang and break apart the only place his family has ever known?

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x OC [Julia Han]

WC: 2.9K

Warning: Cursing, implied smut, some violence

Series masterlist here

“Julia, Dan wants to see you in conference room B.”

You tossed your head back with a groan, slipping your heels on beneath your desk and standing up, smoothing down the buttons of your blouse and grabbing your laptop before clicking down the hall, past the row of partners’ offices. The good offices, the ones with windows and built-in bars and a couch to collapse on when you got too piss drunk to possibly take the train home at midnight after a client meeting.

Sliding open the glass door, you cleared your throat.

“Dan? Charles said you asked for me.”

“Julia!” Dan turned his megawatt smile on you. “Take a seat.”

His enthusiasm terrified you. Dan got excited about exactly three things. When the White Sox won, the day his wife signed their divorce settlement and he managed to scrape by without a hefty monthly alimony payment, and acquisitions.

Dan loved the kinds of deals that could blow up in your face. The kind that sucked you dry and left you for the wolves. They were his kryptonite.

“How’s it going?” you asked, taking a seat in a black leather rolling chair, crossing one leg over another.

He lowered himself into the chair next to yours at the head of the table and slid a thin folder over. “Ever been to Wyoming?”

You shook your head. “Never been one for horses. Or cowboys for that matter.”

Dan chuckled. “You might change your mind after spending a few weeks there.”

You sighed and flipped open the folder. “Alright, you have my interest. What is it?”

His eyes sparkled and they told you everything you needed to know about this assignment.

It was going to be bad. People were going to lose their jobs. Maybe they’d even be forced to leave town. You would be a social pariah in a matter of days.

And you were going to make the firm tens of millions of dollars.

***

The town was simple. That was an understatement.

The guy at the airport had apologized profusely when the only rental car left was a slim Honda sedan instead of the luxury model you had made the reservation for.

You had sighed, climbing into the black car, and driving the hour and a half to Wabang. Halfway through, your Spotify bluetooth cut out and you swore, rapping your fingernails against the leather steering wheel.

It was a beautiful drive. You had to give Dan some credit. He could have sent anyone, but he chose you. Wyoming was not part of your normal remit for the firm. You were strictly the midwest agent: Chicago, Minneapolis, Milwaukee.

But you were vying for vice president and he knew it. This was your shot to prove your worth in an office of all white middle aged men. They hadn’t wanted to hire the young female associate. You didn’t fit their mold. You hadn’t gone to Northwestern or UMichigan and been a Tri Delt. You didn’t enjoy the steakhouse, cigars after work and strip club aesthetic that the other partners languished in.

What’s more, you were a woman. A half-Asian woman, no less. Some saw you as a diversity hire. Others said it was the firm finally entering into the twenty-first century. Either way, you had climbed your way up from the bottom. Dan saw it. The other partners did, too.

Some might say the Wyoming deal was to get you out of the office. But you knew what it was. A lifeline. A fast track to partner.

It was your shot.

***

Your corporate housing was a small apartment above the town’s bakery. It smelled like fresh baked bread in the morning and the entire front room was drenched in natural light by early afternoon. You hated that it was lovely, in the most ordinary way.

Wabang was such a different type of assignment that you hadn’t done the correct research before jumping on the flight. It was a jeans and boots kind of town. You stuck out in your Jimmy Choos, St. Johns suits, Chanel flap bag. You stuck out for a lot of reasons.

It was apparent from the moment that you got to town there were a handful of bachelors that had placed you on their radar. Perhaps it was the fact that you were fresh meat. Or that you were one of only a handful of unmarried twenty-something women in a town where the average marriage age was undoubtedly early twenties.

Either way, when a suave-looking blond in a blue button down approached you outside of the local market, his eyes skimming over your dress before landing on your face, white teeth bared in a shockingly luminescent smile, you felt a strange ick wash over you.

“Hello there,” he said, leaning against the brick of the building. “I’m Luke Tillerson.”

You nodded. “Julia Han.”

He smirked. “Where you from, gorgeous? Not from around here, obviously. Would have remembered a thing like you.”

The urge to gag was clear and present, but you choked it down. “Listen, sweetheart, we don’t have to do this. The answer is no and I think we both know it.”

An angry red blush crept over Luke’s chest, up his neck, and you saw his eyes bulge slightly. For a moment, you were almost worried that he might reach out and grab you. There was an air about him that gave you reservation. An instability.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” you followed up quickly, shifting your purse from one side to another, hiking it up on your shoulder. “I’m just in town for a few weeks, tops. I try not to make it a habit of starting things that I can’t follow through with.”

His fists, which had been balled up against his sides, slowly unwound themselves and you watched him take a deep breath. “Alright, darlin’, guess I gotta accept that.”

You smiled. “Nice to meet you, Luke.”

As you turned to walk away, his fingers circled your wrist, tugging you back. A sweat started to break out at your hairline as you turned around, his grip tight and unrelenting. “You change your mind, darlin’, and I’ll be here,” he whispered gruffly, standing so close you could smell his astringent aftershave. “Tillerson ranch. Come by anytime.”

Luke dropped your wrist and you shook it out at your side. You were used to men like him. Men who took because they thought it was owed to them. Men who had never heard the word no before in their lives.

They were dangerous. Almost as dangerous as you.

***

Rhett fiddled with his keys, leaning up against the side of the truck, eyes scanning the main street of Wabang for your signature heels.

The comment you had made as you walked out of the door at the bar the night before terrified him. You terrified him, in a way. In the best way possible.

He needed to know what you meant. Even though a part of him wanted to get away, leave Wabang in the dust, Rhett knew that he would always be inextricably tied to this place. This land. His family was Wabang.

Finally, he spotted you leaving a door near the bakery, dark sunglasses covering most of your face. You had traded in the black heels for a pair of nude ones, and the black dress for a pale blue one that offset your olive skin and dark hair.

He stepped out onto the sidewalk in your direct path and watched as you lifted the sunglasses to the top of your head and smiled, heading his way.

“Rhett,” you said softly and just the sound of your voice sent a jolt of electricity down his spine. “How are you?”

He nodded. “Good,” he whispered gruffly. You took in his hat, worn jeans and boots. It was the morning, still early, and you wondered what exactly he did when he wasn’t riding bulls. “I, uh, I was hoping we could talk again.”

You smiled. “Yeah, sure.”

“Now?” he said, lips curled up in a soft smile. “Diner’s right over there.” He pointed one long finger to a building down the road.

“I actually have a meeting with the Mayor in ten minutes,” you replied. “But I’m free for dinner?”

Rhett felt his chest constrict. He didn’t want to jump the gun and assume it was a date. But the way you were looking at him — sparkling eyes, lips pushed together in a perfect pout. He hoped you meant it as a date. “Yeah, OK,” he nodded. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Alright. I’m staying right down there. Apartment over the bakery.”

Rhett nodded and smiled again. “I’ll be there.”

You slid your sunglasses on and pressed one hand to his muscular bicep, squeezing it gently. “Looking forward to it.”

***

Rhett waited nervously on the sidewalk outside of your apartment. He was early. Royal had asked him to stay late rebuilding a fence but he had brushed his father off, not letting on that he was taking the newcomer out to dinner.

Your arrival in town had whipped up a flurry of rumors, but it appeared that only Rhett knew your true reasoning for appearing in Wabang. The Mayor was notably silent about the fact that a corporation wanted to take over the town. He had failed, and a man like him hated to go down without a fight.

At seven on the dot, he stepped forward and pressed the metal buzzer for the upstairs apartment. Your voice rang through, muffled by the decades old technology. “Coming!”

You swung the door open, almost knocking Rhett off of his feet. He was standing too close to the door, not expecting you to swing it open so violently.

“Shit!” he whispered as the metal nearly skimmed him and you immediately reached out, pressing your hands to his face.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry!” you said quickly, brushing your fingers across his cheeks and then down his arms, eyes doing a quick assessment. “Are you OK? Did it hit you?”

He smiled and shook his head, a small section of hair falling into his face. He had a quiet way of observing his surroundings and Rhett simply stretched out his fingers, catching your own as your hands slid down his arms, checking for cuts or scrapes. “I’m fine, darlin’,” he murmured.

Rhett gripped one of your hands tightly, leading you out onto the sidewalk into the passenger seat of his truck. He pulled open the door, helping you up, and you smiled, climbing in.

“So where are we going?” you asked once he was settled into the driver’s seat, reversing out of the spot, one hand on the headrest of your seat. You couldn’t help but watch the muscles rippling beneath his clean shirt.

“Restaurant one town over,” he said in his gravelly voice. “‘Bout a ten minute drive.”

“Why one town over?”

Rhett shot you a look, eyebrows raised. “Cause we have some stuff to talk about and I have a feeling you’ll be a little more forthcoming outside of city limits.”

You chuckled and leaned back against the seat. “So you don’t want to be seen with the town pariah?”

“Trust me, a man wants to be seen with a girl like you on his arm.”

***

You ordered a gin and lime over ice, which made Rhett raise his eyebrows. He had you pegged as a red wine girl, or maybe a whiskey sour on a particular night. Not straight gin.

“So, what’s it like being a bull rider?” you asked.

“It’s not important or special, really. Just the one thing I felt like I could do around here.”

“Well it’s interesting to me,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink before leaning forward, sliding your arm around the top of the curved booth backrest, fingers dancing lightly on Rhett’s shoulder.

He blushed. “I’m sure a city girl like you needs a lot more to be impressed,” he said. “Bet I can’t compete with the kinds of guys you’re used to.”

You shook your head. “Those guys are all the same. They’re boring, in the absolutely worst ways.” You skimmed a nail across his shoulder toward the slight curl of hair at the nape of his neck. “So you’re wrong. It doesn’t take more to impress me.”

Rhett could barely focus. His brain was short circuiting as you brushed your fingers across his shoulders and neck. He was acutely aware that you had your legs crossed under the large booth table, one foot wedged tightly beneath his calf.

He wanted to reach out and touch you, feel your warmth under his fingertips, but he stopped himself as the waitress set down your food.

“Tell me why you’re really here.” His voice was low and husky. “The deal, the town.”

You shook your head again. “I said too much last night. It’s business, Rhett. Nothing personal.”

“You can’t drop a bomb like that and walk away.”

There was something in his voice that you couldn’t place. You had read him the moment he came up to you in the bar. He was stuck. But perhaps you had overestimated how much he wanted to leave Wabang.

He was going to take this much more personally than you had hoped.

“Rhett,” you whispered, placing your fork down on the plate and sliding one hand onto his thigh. He froze, blue eyes hooked on yours. “Honey, trust me when I say I don’t like doing this. But I was sent here to do a job. And I have to see it through.”

“But who is the buyer?” he asked. “What does this mean for the town? For my ranch.”

“Your ranch? I thought you said you were a bull rider?”

“My family has a ranch,” he said softly and the realization began to sink in. He was tied to the town in a way you hadn’t imagined. “Abbott ranch, out on Route Eight. Over next to the Tillersons.”

“Tillerson,” you repeated. “Like Luke Tillerson?”

Rhett tensed. “Yeah. You know him?”

“He kind of cornered me the other day. Tried to ask me out and I said no and he didn’t take it too well.”

“What do you mean, didn’t take it too well?”

“Rhett, it’s nothing.”

“Julia, it’s not nothing,” he said, his eyes trained on yours. “What did he do?” His voice was low, venomous. There was something there. It wasn’t just jealousy. It was years of competition and anger boiled down into a volatile slurry. You could almost feel it radiating off of him.

“He asked me out and I said no, that I don’t date while I’m on assignment. And then when I went to walk away he grabbed my wrist, hard, pulling me back. That was it.” You rubbed your fingers softly on his thigh. “Rhett, please, it was nothing. Let’s move on.”

He slammed one fist onto the table, rattling the plates, and you gasped. The other tables around you shot dirty looks, but Rhett looked at the ground, biting his bottom lip.

“Rhett,” you said and the anger in your voice made him look up. “No. We’re not going to do this. Either you let this go or I’m walking away.”

“Shit,” he muttered, wiping his hands on his napkin. “Julia, I’m sorry.” His fingers curled over yours where they sat on his thigh. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

You nodded. “It’s alright.”

As you turned back to your dinner, sliding your hand from his leg, Rhett’s mind jumped in circles. What did you mean you didn’t date people on assignment? What was this dinner if that was the case?

When the waitress dropped off the check, you reached for it and Rhett shot you a look.

“No,” he said forcefully and you hated that it made you wet between your thighs. “Don’t even think about it, sweetheart.”

You smiled. “Alright, whatever you say, Rhett.” You didn’t want to point out that you made mid-six figures and he was a bull rider. You got the sense it would be deeply offensive to him if you tried to pay.

Outside, you took a deep breath. The air was so fresh compared to Chicago. Rhett towered over you, even in your heels, one hand pressed against the building wall as he leaned to the side.

“Did you have a nice time?” you whispered.

Rhett nodded, a small smile curving his perfect pink lips. “I did, yeah. Did you?”

He didn’t understand what you were after. What you wanted from him. What you wanted in general. He didn’t understand anything about you. In fact, you terrified him to his core. He had never known a woman like you and that terrified him because all he wanted was to pull you in, press his lips to yours, spend the next fifty years learning every inch of your body with his mouth and hands and mind.

So when you leaned forward and skimmed your hand through his hair near his ear, pulling his neck down, locking your lips against his, his heart threatened to explode from his body.

“Yeah,” you whispered, lips still grazing his. “I had a great time.”

Tag list: @double-j @momc95 @sadpetalsstuff @seresinhangmanjake @shanimallina87 @starrynightskyz @writercole @endofdays56 @coffeeandcuriosities @xoxabs88xox

#rhett abbott x oc #rhett abbott #outer range #lewis pullman #series #A Place Like This

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importantwomensbirthdays · 9 months

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Blanche M. Manning

youtube

Blanche M. Manning was born in 1934 in Chicago, Illinois. In 1987, Manning was elected to the Illinois Appellate Court. In 1994, she was appointed by Bill Clinton to serve as a judge in the Northern District of Illinois. Manning attained senior status in 2010, and retired in 2012. Manning was a devoted member of the Black Women Lawyers' Association, and played a key role in planning the organization's first National Summit of Lawyers. She was also a jazz musician who played in multiple bands and was a founding member of the Chicago Bar Association Symphony Orchestra.

Blanche M. Manning died in 2020 at the age of 85.

#african-american #law #women in law #black women #african-american history #black history #illinois #chicago #Youtube

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tomorrowusa · 9 months

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In addition to being the dictator party and the abortion police party, the GOP is becoming the "kill the gays" party.

In a little-noticed Oct. 8 speech in Uganda, Rep. Tim Walberg (R-MI) urged that nation to stand behind its new Anti-Homosexuality Act, which includes the death penalty. Walberg’s remarks came at Uganda’s National Prayer Breakfast. His trip to attend the event was paid for by the secretive U.S. group behind the National Prayer Breakfast, congressional filings show. As the keynote speaker of the Entebbe event, Walberg advised Uganda to “stand firm” on the new law. Walberg can be seen in video of the event listening to, endorsing, and associating himself with the remarks of other speakers. Speakers called LGBTQ+ advocates “a force from the bottom of Hell” and urged government officials to adopt “Christocracy” over democracy. Walberg explicitly encouraged Uganda’s leaders to resist opposition to the law from the U.S., the UN, and other global institutions. His audience included President Yoweri Museveni, who signed the Anti-Homosexuality Act into law in May. Museveni afterwards said Walberg’s presence showed his people that there were Americans who “think like us.” Walberg justified his Uganda trip as related to his official duties in part because of his role as co-chair of the Feb. 2 U.S. National Prayer Breakfast.

Yep, Rep. Walberg went on a junket (taxpayer financed?) to the most homophobic country in Sub-Saharan Africa just to "pray" at breakfast — presumably for the death of gays. And he got to do so alongside the country's longtime authoritarian president.

Yoweri Museveni has been mis-leading his country since 26 January 1986 – the same day the Chicago Bears won Super Bowl XX. He's one of those corrupt de facto presidents for life who plague a number of countries in Africa. It's natural that Republicans would gravitate towards such a figure.

[L]ast year’s Ugandan National Prayer Breakfast also served as a rally to resist international pressure for LGBTQ+ rights. The latest version of the Anti-Homosexuality bill, commonly known as the “Kill the Gays Bill,” was introduced shortly afterwards. The law provides penalties of lengthy prison sentences and even execution for “aggravated homosexuality,” including “serial offenses.” Even advocating for LGBTQ+ rights can mean years behind bars under the new law. Just attempting to engage in same-sex conduct can draw a sentence of ten years. According to Human Rights Watch, Ugandan rights groups have seen a spike in anti-LGBTQ discrimination and persecution since the bill’s introduction. Advocates in Uganda report government crackdowns on rights organizations and, since the law was enacted in May, hundreds of individual acts of violence, discrimination, and even evictions. As recently as Dec. 11, the Biden administration reiterated its demand that Uganda repeal the law and stop its official persecution. The White House cited U.S. visa restrictions and sanctions of Ugandan officials. The U.S. has suggested further economic consequences may follow.

Walberg seemed to imply that he's not on the side of the United States of America. Well, that's not unusual of House Republicans.

Referring to himself and the Ugandans there as “we,” Walberg asked, “Whose side do we wanna be on? God’s side. Not the World Bank, not the United States of America, necessarily, not the UN. God’s side.”

Somebody should ask Rep. Walberg if he's going to introduce a "Kill the Gays Bill" in the US House. Knowing how self-hating the Log Cabin Republicans are, they'd probably lobby in favor of such a bill.

A fascist mindset permeates the Republican Party. If you support the continuation of democracy in this country, Vote Blue No Matter Who. People who claim that both parties are the same are either stupid or too lazy to pay attention.

#lgbtq+#us house of representatives #mi-05 #republicans #tim walberg #house republicans #homophobia #christocracy #“kill the gays bill”#uganda #persecution of gays #yoweri museveni #national prayer breakfast #lgbtq rights #vote blue no matter who #election 2024

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beardedmrbean · 7 months

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BUFFALO, N.Y. (AP) — The way prosecutors tell it, Joseph Bongiovanni went to work for years with a “little dark secret.”

Behind the veneer of a veteran U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration agent, they alleged, was a turncoat on the take from the Buffalo Mafia, offering an “umbrella of protection” that derailed investigations of his childhood friends, covered for a sex-trafficking strip club and even helped a connected high school English teacher keep his marijuana-growing side hustle.

In a federal trial that began this month, prosecutors portrayed Bongiovanni as a greedy racist who pocketed more than $250,000 in cash-stuffed envelopes over a decade and threw his colleagues off by opening bogus case files and encouraging them to spend less time investigating Italians and more time on Blacks and Hispanics, “n----- and s----” he was alleged to have called them. When authorities finally unmasked him in 2019, he hastily retired and wiped his cellphone clean.

“Sometimes the DEA doesn’t get it right,” Assistant U.S. Attorney Joseph Tripi told jurors. “He was able to manipulate everyone because, in law enforcement, there’s a certain amount of trust that’s inherent. He did it under the watch of supervisors who under-supervised him.”

The 59-year-old Bongiovanni has denied the counts of bribery, conspiracy and obstruction of justice that could land him behind bars for life, charges his attorney says are built on lies “so fanciful they don’t just strain credibility, they rip it apart.”

The trial is the latest gut punch to the 4,100-agent DEA, which has seen at least 16 agents brought up on federal charges since 2015, a parade of misconduct that has revealed gaping holes in the agency’s supervision.

The crimes have included child pornography, drug trafficking, leaking intelligence to defense attorneys and selling firearms to cartel associates, an Associated Press analysis found. One carried a “Liberty or Death” flag and flashed his badge outside the Capitol on Jan. 6. Another infiltrated the DEA in Chicago and helped traffickers smuggle thousands of kilos of cocaine from Puerto Rico to New York.

At least three veteran agents are serving prison sentences of a decade or longer, including one who laundered money for cartels in Colombia and spent lavishly on expensive sports cars and Tiffany jewels, and an Arkansas-based agent recorded taking a bribe inside a Las Vegas casino.

The cases, coming amid an epidemic of more than 100,000 fatal drug overdoses a year, often present yearslong headaches for the U.S. Justice Department to determine whether any investigations were tainted when rogue agents betrayed the badge.

“We should not expect to see this much crime in one law enforcement agency,” said Rachel Moran, an associate professor at the University of St. Thomas School of Law in Minneapolis. “The common thread I see here is a lack of oversight and accountability.”

The DEA declined to comment. DEA Administrator Anne Milgram is herself the subject of an ongoing Inspector General inquiry examining whether the agency improperly hired some of her past associates.

Like other DEA scandals, the Bongiovanni case underscores recurring questions about the agency’s hiring standards and ability to root out corruption. Background checks didn’t turn up Bongiovanni’s prior drug use and ties to Italian organized crime in his native Buffalo, prosecutors said, and not a single member of law enforcement was on to him until a trafficker paying for Bongiovanni’s protection was arrested by another agency. “He’s got that little dark secret,” Tripi said.

The trial, expected to last two months, is part of a broader sex-trafficking prosecution that has taken sensational turns, including an implicated judge who killed himself after the FBI raided his home, law enforcement dragging a pond in search of an overdose victim and dead rats planted outside the home of a government witness who prosecutors allege was later killed by a fatal dose of fentanyl.

Bongiovanni was raised in a tight-knit Italian American community in North Buffalo and known as a “door kicker” in the DEA, defense attorney Parker MacKay said, “not the type to sit in front of a computer.”

In his high school yearbook, Bongiovanni said he wanted to be a billionaire. But prosecutors said he went through financial struggles during his two-decade career that made him vulnerable to taking bribes.

His protection ranged from providing an “all clear” assuring trafficker friends they were not on law enforcement’s radar to leaking intelligence and opening fictitious cases that made it appear he was investigating them or relying on them as informants, prosecutors said, a sort of catch-and-kill tactic that prevented other law enforcement agencies from pursuing their own cases. This also positioned Bongiovanni to receive notice any time another agency became interested in one of the targets, a process known as deconfliction.

Bongiovanni also is accused of vouching for criminals, filing bogus reports and swiping a sensitive DEA case file on organized crime that he stored in his basement after his abrupt retirement.

Among the rackets Bongiovanni is accused of protecting is Pharoah’s Gentlemen’s Club, a strip club outside Buffalo described by prosecutors as a haven for drug use and sex trafficking. Bongiovanni was childhood friends with the owner, Peter Gerace Jr., who authorities allege has close ties to both the Buffalo Mafia and the notoriously violent Outlaws Motorcycle Club.

Prosecutors said Gerace had the agent on speed dial for advice when he needed to cover up the overdose of a stripper. The evidence includes a voicemail in which Gerace asks Bongiovanni about tracing a drug dealer’s cellphone. “Is there a way to ping it like police do?” he said, according to court records. “I just want to know if you could do that or not.”

Gerace attorney Mark Foti said his client “denies all charges and looks forward to confronting the government’s evidence at his trial.”

The long list of witnesses in the case includes dozens of federal law enforcement officers and a public school teacher of 30 years who admitted running a marijuana-growing operation while receiving confidential information from Bongiovanni.

Prosecutor Tripi said Bongiovanni had two sets of rules, one for cronies lining his pockets and another for everyone else.

“He did just enough legitimate work to avoid detection,” he said. “He almost got away with it.”

#nunyas news

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84reedsy · 6 months

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The Mentorship, Part 8

The Mentorship

Characters: Curt Hennig/FemOC , Scott Hall/FemOC

Part 8 of ? (Parts not chapters, parts length varies)

Word Count: 3421

-----Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7----

Warnings/Considerations: Smut, Age Gap, Power Dynamics, Dirty Talk, swearing

_____________________________________

Brinkley enjoyed the promo tours they did around Chicago. She was mostly recognized by association, but she wasn't occasionally mobbed like a few of the others. She watched them with their fans and they were all so kind and patient. Even Kevin brought out a benevolent side she wasn't sure his cockiness would allow. But then again he was a preening peacock with all the attention, specifically from females.

She noticed Scott and Curt paid a little extra attention to the kids. She found it sweet, but then wondered if it might have had something to do with missing their own.

She remembered what Curt was like in his home element and she felt a little bad for the first time. She probably should have felt this much sooner, but just as he'd said, life on the road tended to insulate you from reality.

Any thoughts of guilt were quickly squashed when she pictured Curt's face pressed between her thighs this morning.

Brinkley was again invited to a party, this being held at Lex's place that he still had in Chicago. His main house was in Atlanta, but when it came to a free place to party, no one was very picky.

Beer was a lot cheaper when bought in bulk versus a bar. The same went for hard liquor. Brinkley offered to go as a designated driver, the hangover from this morning still fresh in her memory.

She tried to mill around, but stayed near someone that traveled with them at all times. Everyone was feeling very friendly and touchy tonight. She tried not to make a scene anytime someone got too frisky, but so far someone had stepped in. It didn't take much to redirect them to another party guest that was all too happy to be felt up.

She fared better in the back room off the kitchen where poker was being played in a room full of cigar smoke. She pulled up a chair to watch, Bret letting her look over his shoulder at his cards.

“What do you think?” He asked, scooting his chair over a bit for her to sit next to him.

She looked at his two cards and then at the flop cards on the table. He held a Heart flush draw with a King high.

“Wow. How is this even real,” she giggled a little as she whispered to him, “I'd call to see what everyone else does,”

He followed her advice and no one else raised.

The ace of hearts came next, completing the flush and all but guaranteed Bret's win.

“Limp in,” she mumbled as he leaned back, he placed a small bet and it was immediately raised twice. He raised again and was called when Steve went all in.

Bret's large chip stack was partially her doing and he slipped her a tip for her help . They tried to convince her to join the game, but she felt restless and walked back to the more rambunctious room.

Voices rose from the din and clearly they were heated. The herd of people moved in the direction of the fighting. Why the Nasty Boys were here she didn't know, but they were and they clearly had beef with the Outsiders. She'd heard this story enough to know that relations were tense.

She struggled past everyone. A few were trying to get between them and keep the peace for the sake of the party. It was clear Scott and Kevin had already had plenty to drink. Scott didn't resist getting in their face and pointing, his face scrunched as he laid out his best insults.

She reached for Scott’s balled up fist to try and keep it at bay while Page tried to talk sense to both men. Jerry's arm got in the way and he yanked his arm away from her, barely missing grazing her cheek.

“Get the fuck off of me, BITCH,” he nearly spat in her face. After that moment all hell broke loose. Page pushed her back out of the way as very real punches were being thrown. It shouldn’t have been attractive, but seeing both Scott and Kevin fighting was very intriguing.

It was odd to see real fighting after all this time of learning protective show fighting. This felt so raw and primal.

It didn't take long for Lex to show up and enough people to get between the four brawling men to put a stop to it. Both Jerry and Brian were booted from the house. Kevin and Scott were still obviously energized by the provocation; still flexed and zero'd in.

Drinks were offered as a distraction. Brinkley noticed a reddening spot on Scott’s cheek and touched his arm to get his attention. He jerked at first, adrenaline still dictating his reactions. Once he saw who it was, he softened a little.

She slipped her other hand around his taut forearm and pulled him gently to follow her

He did after being given a beer that he began drinking swiftly. On the way to the back deck, she grabbed ice and folded it in a towel.

Once alone on the deck, she sat him down in a lounge chair and sat on one of his knees, his legs splayed wide. She held his cheek running her thumb over the slightly bruising and puffed lump. He winced.

“That's what I thought,” she placed the ice pack gently against the welt before pressing down on it. He hissed at the pressure but did not pull away.

“Not gonna let some prick talk to you like that,” he defended his actions.

“Hey, I'm not saying he didn't deserve what he got. But you don't want to ruin this pretty face, do you?” She could smell a heavy intoxication on him. His lazy gaze corroborated it.

“This ugly mug? Eh,” he took another drink.

“Nah, you're pretty,” she teased, “That's why you're their golden boy.”

“I am not,” he wasn't too drunk to know he liked this kind of attention from her, “They just love me for my body,”

Brinkley liked him better sober, but there was definitely a playfulness to him at times when he was buzzed. She couldn’t help but giggle at his forced shy tone.

“Well, it's a pretty great body,” She moved the ice a bit to see if the swelling had stopped. It seemed to be helping a little, “Can’t blame them for that,”

“You really think I’m pretty?” His hand moved to her thigh, rubbing it gently.

“You know I do,” She side eyed him knowingly, pressing the ice back to his cheekbone, “You know I’m wrapped around your little finger,” She narrowed her eyes at him playfully.

“Darlin’, I think you have that backwards,” His hand squeezed lightly, “You could have any guy here. And here you are out here dickin’ around with me,”

“Yeah,” She looked back towards the party, “But you keep things interesting,” She shrugged, “and when you aren’t being a royal dick to me, you’re a pretty good guy,” She tapped the end of his nose with her free hand. He stared up at her, his eyes a little more focused now and she saw there was no question that he wanted to kiss her again.

“Too bad we’re not back at the hotel,” He murmured, “I still have your room key, you know,” His hand slid further up her thigh.

“That’s right, I guess you do,” She bit her lip as she was transfixed by his stare, “Why would you want to go back to the hotel with this rager of a party going on,” she asked coyly.

“Because then I’d get to fuck you until you forgot any other man existed but me,” That softly thunderous tone immediately triggered her sexual core. It made her wonder if Lex had any bedrooms open upstairs.

“Well…I wish we would have stayed there,” She knew she was speaking, but it was nearly out of body as Scott’s words painted sordid pictures in her mind.

“There he is!” The door to the house opened and a group of large sized men nearly spilled out of it onto the deck, “Man, we thought you went after Saggs,” Kevin had ditched the small glasses and now clutched the neck of a bottle of whiskey in his large fist.

“What’s going on out here, playing doctor?” Rick was barely coherent, but found his own joke hilarious.

Brinkley let out a heavy sigh and rolled her eyes before looking back at Scott.

“You know, your friends are a buzzkill,” she smiled though, shaking her head, “Hold this on here,” She replaced her hand on the ice pack with his, “Come find me when you’re ready to go,” She was not interested in hearing herself be the butt of about the next 50 sex-laced jokes. Curt leaned in the doorway, still pacing himself with slow drags of beer.

“Looking pretty cozy out there,” He nudged her as she walked by.

“The guy stood up for me, the least I could do was make sure his face didn’t get all busted up. We do kind of need him tomorrow,” She looked back as more of the party spilled to the outside.

“What??” Curt snapped his head back to look at her, wondering how she knew about his plan.

“Our match?” She looked at him quizzically, “You know…the one we trained for today?”

“Oh…yeah, the match,” He shook the shocked expression from his face and took another drink.

“Maybe we oughta get back, both of you are acting goofy tonight,” She laid her hand on his shoulder before walking away.

A couple more hours passed and poker was the only thing that kept her boredom at bay. She was more than ready to go when the crowd started clearing out. She found both Curt and Scott on the back deck still, sitting now for the fact that standing was too precarious.

It took an army to load them into the car. Curt sprawled in the backseat, while Scott slouched in the front. She listened to instructions on how to get back to the hotel from someone she hoped was sober enough to know.

As she drove, Scott slumped over more until he lay out across the front bench seat, his head on her leg.

“You boys, who’s the one babysitting now?” She joked to herself.

If Kevin was back in the room, he didn’t answer the door. There was no other option but to take Scott back to their room. Curt took off his shoes and shirt, not managing any more before collapsing on the bed.

“I guess I get to sleep with you tonight, after all,” Scott slurred,”Might take me a minute to get going,”

“Easy tiger,” She slipped his shirt off, more for selfish gratification than anything. She ran her hands along his hairy chest, “I want you at your best. I want everything you’ve got.” She slid her hands back down, one sliding across the front of his jeans.

“If you’re trying to calm me down, it ain’t working,” He swayed a little now.

“Let’s get you to bed,” she tried not to laugh at his state and helped him to the same bed Curt was in. He didn’t lay down for a moment before he was out. Chuckling to herself, she went to the other side and rolled Curt over partially, laying his arm over Scott’s chest. It wasn’t the best prank of all time, but she thought it would be funny to see them wake up like this.

It couldn’t have worked out better. By the morning, they were nearly cuddling. Brinkley wished she had a camera, but the next best thing was to see if anyone else did. She scrambled out in the hallway knocking on doors, explaining why she needed one. Only Paul had one, but everyone wanted to see what it was she felt so compelled to document.

As Curt and Scott woke up, feeling the effects of a hangover, they realized they were nearly on top of each other. They yanked themselves apart to raucous laughter and clapping. The flash of a polaroid went off and as their eyes adjusted back to normal, they both saw Brinkley standing there fanning the photo to make it develop faster.

“Well good morning, boys!” She cooed, surrounded by her amused colleagues.

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

“C’mon, you CAN’T still be butthurt about this morning,” Brinkley said as she got the silent treatment in the back of the car, “Curt you once set a dude’s car ON FIRE,” She couldn’t believe he was so sour after a very basic rib.

“Ha, that’s right, I did, didn’t I,” Curt recalled one of his more infamous ribs.

“Ok, great for him, but what the hell did I do to you,” Scott slung his arm over the seat, slapping her knee. She feigned thinking before responding.

“Well, come to think of it, you haven’t done anything to me…yet,” she flirted back with him.

Curt scrunched his face at the obvious flirting, but did not comment on it. They must’ve been getting close on their own if they were openly bantering like this.

“Don’t count your chickens,” Scott warned playfully, “It’s another 30 minutes to the arena. I’ve crawled back there before to put you in your place,”

She didn’t, in fact, have to worry about him invading her space on the drive as in only 10 minutes they were at the arena. Brinkley was more excited than normal, tagging along with Curt, Scott, and Kevin as they went to discuss match details with the bosses. They had to sell pretty hard, but eventually were given a creative green light.

There wasn’t much that these three would be told ‘no’ for.

“I need a new outfit,” She pouted as she pulled out the four pieces she’d be cycling through, “But I don’t know what to order next,”

“Dump Hennig and come hang out with the Outsiders, get you a hot little number to match mine.” Scott teased, walking over to her. He pointed at the zippered top and the long tights, “Those. I like those the best.”

“Not the one from the other night?” She pulled the corset top string.

“Nah, too much work. The zipper is easier,” He mimicked yanking it down.

Curt glanced in their direction as he laced up his boots. He knew that his plan wouldn’t be as mortifying for her now, but he couldn’t complain. If she was more into it and comfortable with Scott, the less inhibitions she may have. He could think of a couple new things one or both of them could show her.

As they stood in the staging area, Curt had to remind her to calm down and maintain their signature smug looks. He knew she was excited about getting more involved. When no one was looking, he laid a sharp smack on her ass, which got her attention.

“Ow!” She bit her lip, still smiling, “Ok, ok!” she quit bouncing up and down.

“That’s Daddy’s good girl” he leaned in to murmur in her ear. He could see her visibly shiver and it did the job, though now she definitely looked at him with fuck me eyes. The crowd would eat it up. Scott definitely would.

Brinkley focused on the work, scowling at both Scott and Kevin as they made their way down, playing up the crowd. She stood in the ring, hands on her hips slightly behind Curt. Looking at Scott was difficult to do while remaining smug and snarky. His trunks seemed like so much less than usual.

The match started with a typical lockup into an arm hold. Brinkley paced slowly on her side of the ring, occasionally slapping the apron. Kevin kept pacing a little closer to her, but would back off when she’d catch him. He looked mischievous and she kept her eye on him as much as possible.

She slipped into the ring when her moment came and she executed a perfect drop toe hold on Scott while the referee was admonishing Kevin for appearing to try to interfere. Curt went over to aide in the argument as Scott stood, staring her down. She tried to slip back out, but he caught her by the ankle as practiced, dragging her around the ring a bit. After placing the kick and trying to scramble out again, he caught her by the wrist and slung her into the ropes. He caught her in the front carry and after playing to the crowd for a moment who booed him, he launched her over his head.

She sold it well, looking dazed and rolling to her side to ‘recover’. Curt moved back into the match. Just as she was about to finish rolling out, Brinkley was pulled by her ankle away from the ring. She barely landed on her feet just as Kevin’s large frame bared down on her and planted a deep, heavy kiss on her. It was far more real than Page’s’ and much more invasive. He used his strength against her, pinning her to the ring apron.

She managed to wriggle away laying a very real smack across his face. He looked a little stunned by it, but it did not wipe away his shit-eating grin. She didn’t have to fake the cross expression she shot at him. Curt leaned through the ropes and pointed at Kevin, improvising lines. Scott rolled him up for a two count, but set him up also for a fall away slam and the Outsider’s edge.

Brinkley was livid as she kneeled next to Curt in the ring, Scott and Kevin celebrating.

Once in the back, her face did not change.

“Nice job, rook,” Kevin slapped her shoulder.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” She shot him a look.

“What the fuck is your problem,” He looked amused at her anger, “Gotcha all worked up, did I?”

“We never agreed on that,” She still stared daggers at him,”In fact the whole reason we made up the rest of it was so that wouldn’t happen,”

“Oh calm down,” he brushed her off. It did not , in fact, calm her down.

“Fuck you, you cocky bitch,” She threw a bottle of water at him, hitting his shoulder.

“Curt, you better get your kid in line,” Kevin said to him, but looked warningly at Brinkley.

“Brinkley, chill,” Curt said, but turned back to Kevin, “But that was fucked up, Kev, you knew why we went downtown was to make her more legit,”

Kevin rolled his eyes and waved them off and headed for the showers.

“Did you know?” She shot at Scott, who looked surprised by it.

“Me? No, he didn’t say anything to me about it,” He defended, “I just did what I knew we’d talked about,”

“Sure, you two are like this,” She held up her crossed fingers, “I’m so sure you didn’t fucking know,”

“Why the fuck are you mad at me??” Scott pointed to his chest, bewildered by her attitude.

“You could have warned me!” She snapped at him. Scott and Curt exchanged quick, surprised looks.

“I didn’t know? You expect me to fucking read his mind?” Scott wished she’d just calm down about it. What Kevin did was shitty, but he’d rather continue their banter from earlier, not gird his loins from a potential attack.

“Yeah, right,” She zipped her bag shut aggressively, “I’ll be in the car,” She stomped out of the locker room.

“What the fuck just happened??” Scott said, looking around as if he’d been blindsided.

“I mean…I understand. She’s trying to be legit. Making every appearance a kissing angle isn’t going to do her any favors.” Curt watched the doorway where she left, “But I didn’t expect her to blow up like that.”

“Shit,” Scott rested his arms on his knees, remembering what was supposed to happen tonight, “Well that just fucks everything right up,”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. She’s got a couple hours to cool off,” Curt tried to smooth it over.

“She pretty much just tried to bite my nuts off, I don’t think her mouth should be anywhere around this,” He motioned toward his pelvic area.

“I still need to get her back,” Curt reminded him that this was retaliation, “Plus I have a sneaking suspicion that if you show up, she’ll come around pretty quick.”

Scott looked toward the door, letting out a sigh as he unlaced his boots, “If you say so, Hennig, if you say so.”

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