#h rap brown

[kemetic-dreams]

Jamil Abdullah al-Amin (born Hubert Gerold Brown; October 4, 1943), is an American human rights activist, Muslim cleric, African separatist, and convicted murderer who was the fifth chairman of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) in the 1960s. Best known as H. Rap Brown, he served as the Black Panther Party's minister of justice during a short-lived (six months) alliance between SNCC and the Black Panther Party.

He is perhaps known for his proclamations during that period, such as that "violence is as American as cherry pie", and that "If America don't come around, we're gonna burn it down." He is also known for his autobiography, Die Nigger Die! He is currently serving a life sentence for murder following the shooting of two Fulton County, Georgia, sheriff's deputies in 2000.

Brown's activism in the civil rights movement included involvement with the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC). Brown was introduced into SNCC by his older brother Ed. He first visited Cambridge, Maryland with Cleveland Sellers in the summer of 1963, during the period of Gloria Richardson's leadership in the local movement. He witnessed the first riot between whites and blacks in the city over civil rights issues, and was impressed by the local civil rights movement's willingness to use armed self-defense against racial attacks.

Brown later organized for SNCC during the 1964 Mississippi Freedom Summer, while transferring to Howard University for his studies. Representing Howard's SNCC chapter, Brown attended a contentious civil rights meeting at the White House with President Lyndon B. Johnson during the Selma crisis of 1965 as Alabama activists attempted to march for voting rights.

Major federal civil rights legislation was passed in 1964 and 1965, including the Voting Rights Act, to establish federal oversight and enforcement of rights. In 1966, Brown organized in Greene County, Alabama to achieve African voter registration and implementation of the recently passed Voting Rights Act.

Elected SNCC chairman in 1967, Brown continued Stokely Carmichael's fiery support for "Black Power" and urban rebellions in the Northern ghettos.

During the summer of 1967, Brown toured the nation, calling for violent resistance to the government, which he called "The Fourth Reich". "Negroes should organize themselves", he told a rally in Washington, D.C., and "carry on guerilla warfare in all the cities." They should, "make the Viet Cong look like Sunday school teachers." He declared, "I say to America, Fuck it! Freedom or death!"

In this period, Cambridge, Maryland had an active civil rights movement, led by Gloria Richardson. In July 1967 Brown spoke in the city, saying "It's time for Cambridge to explode, baby. Black folks built America, and if America don't come around, we're going to burn America down." Gunfire reportedly broke out later, and both Brown and a police officer were wounded. A fire started that night and by the next day, 17 buildings were destroyed by an expanding fire "in a two-block area of Pine Street, the center of African-American commerce, culture and community." Brown was charged with inciting a riot, due to his speech.

Brown was also charged with carrying a gun across state lines. A secret 1967 FBI memo had called for "neutralizing" Brown. He became a target of the agency's COINTELPRO program, which was intended to disrupt and disqualify civil rights leaders. The federal charges against him were never proven.

He was defended in the gun violation case by civil rights advocates Murphy Bell of Baton Rouge, the self-described "radical lawyer" William Kunstler, and Howard Moore Jr., general counsel for SNCC. Feminist attorney Flo Kennedy also assisted Brown and led his defense committee, winning support for him from some chapters of the National Organization for Women.

The Cambridge fire was among incidents investigated by the 1967 Kerner Commission. But their investigative documents were not published with their 1968 report. Historian Dr. Peter Levy studied these papers in researching his book Civil War on Race Street: The Civil Rights Movement in Cambridge, Maryland (2003). He argues there was no riot in Cambridge. Brown was documented as completing his speech in Cambridge at 10 pm July 24, then walking a woman home. He was shot by a deputy sheriff allegedly without provocation. Brown was hastily treated for his injuries and secretly taken by supporters out of Cambridge.

Later that night a small fire broke out, but the police chief and fire company did not respond for two hours. In discussing his book, Levy has said that the fire's spread and ultimate destructive cost appeared to be due not to a riot, but to the deliberate inaction of the Cambridge police and fire departments, which had hostile relations with the African community. In a later book, Levy notes that Brice Kinnamon, head of the Cambridge police department, said that the city had no racial problems, and that Brown was the "sole" cause of the disorder, and it was "a well-planned Communist attempt to overthrow the government."

While being held for trial, Brown continued his high-profile activism. He accepted a request from the Student Afro-American Society of Columbia University to help represent and co-organize the April 1968 Columbia protests against university expansion into Harlem park land in order to build a gymnasium.

He also contributed writing from jail to the radical magazine Black Mask, which was edited and published by the New York activist group Up Against the Wall Motherfucker. In his 1968 article titled "H. Rap Brown From Prison: Lasima Tushinde Mbilashika", Brown writes of going on a hunger strike and his willingness to give up his life in order to achieve change.

Brown's trial was originally to take place in Cambridge, but there was a change of venue and the trial was moved to Bel Air, Maryland, to start in March 1970. On March 9, 1970, two SNCC officials, Ralph Featherstone and William ("Che") Payne, died on U.S. Route 1 south of Bel Air, when a bomb on the front floorboard of their car exploded, killing both occupants. The bomb's origin is disputed: some say the bomb was planted in an assassination attempt, and others say Payne was carrying it to the courthouse where Brown was to be tried. The next night, the Cambridge courthouse was bombed

Brown disappeared for 18 months. He was posted on the Federal Bureau of Investigation's Ten Most Wanted List. He was arrested after a reported shootout with officers in New York City following an alleged attempted robbery of a bar there. He was convicted of robbery and served five years (1971–76) in Attica Prison in western New York state. While in prison, Brown converted to Islam. He formally changed his name from Hubert Gerold Brown to Jamil Abdullah al-Amin.

After his release, he moved to Atlanta, Georgia, where he opened a grocery store. He became an imam, a Muslim spiritual leader, in the National Ummah, one of the nation's largest African Muslim groups. He also was a community activist in Atlanta's West End neighborhood. He preached against drugs and gambling. It has since been suggested that al-Amin changed his life again when he became affiliated with the "Dar ul-Islam Movement"

On May 31, 1999, al-Amin was pulled over while driving in Marietta, Georgia by police officer Johnny Mack for a suspected stolen vehicle. During a search, al-Amin was found to have in his pocket a police badge. He also had a bill of sale in his pocket, explaining his possession of the stolen car, and he claimed that he had been issued an honorary police badge by Mayor John Jackson, a statement which Jackson verified. Despite this, al-Amin was charged with speeding, auto theft and impersonating a police officer.

On March 16, 2000, in Fulton County, Georgia, Sheriff's deputies Ricky Kinchen and Aldranon English went to al-Amin's home to execute an arrest warrant for failing to appear in court over the charges. After determining that the home was unoccupied, the deputies drove away and were shortly passed by a black Mercedes headed for the house. Kinchen (the more senior deputy) noted the suspect vehicle, turned the patrol car around, and drove up to the Mercedes, stopping nose to nose. English approached the Mercedes and told the single occupant to show his hands. The occupant opened fire with a .223 rifle. English ran between the two cars while returning fire from his handgun, and was hit four times. Kinchen was shot with the rifle and a 9 mm handgun.

The next day, Kinchen died of his wounds at Grady Memorial Hospital. English survived his wounds. He identified al-Amin as the shooter from six photos he was shown while recovering in the hospital[citation needed] Another source said English identified him shortly before going into surgery for his wounds.

After the shootout, al-Amin fled Atlanta, going to White Hall, Alabama. He was tracked down by U.S. Marshals who started with a blood trail at the shooting site, and arrested by law enforcement officers after a four-day manhunt. Al-Amin was wearing body armor at the time of his arrest. He showed no wounds. Officers found a 9 mm handgun near his arrest site. Firearms identification testing showed that this was used to shoot Kinchen and English, but al-Amin's fingerprints were not found on the weapon. Later, al-Amin's black Mercedes was found with bullet holes in it.

His lawyers argued he was innocent of the shooting. Defense attorneys noted that al-Amin's fingerprints were not found on the murder weapon, and he was not wounded in the shooting, as one of the deputies said the shooter was. A trail of blood found at the scene was tested and did not belong to al-Amin or either of the deputies. A test by the state concluded that it was animal blood, but these results have been disputed because there was no clear chain of custody to verify the sample and testing process. Deputy English had said that the killer's eyes were gray, but al-Amin's are brown.

At al-Amin's trial, prosecutors noted that he had never provided an alibi for his whereabouts at the time of the shootout, nor any explanation for fleeing the state afterward. He also did not explain why the weapons used in the shootout were found near him during his arrest.

On March 9, 2002, nearly two years after the shootings, al-Amin was convicted of 13 criminal charges, including Kinchen's murder and aggravated assault in shooting English. Four days later, he was sentenced to life in prison without possibility of parole (LWOP).He was sent to Georgia State Prison, the state's maximum-security facility near Reidsville, Georgia.

Otis Jackson, a man incarcerated for unrelated charges, claimed that he committed the Fulton County shootings, and confessed this two years before al-Amin was convicted of the same crime. The court did not consider Jackson's statement as evidence. Jackson's statements corroborated details from 911 calls following the shooting, including a bleeding man seen limping from the scene: Jackson said he knocked on doors to solicit a ride while suffering from wounds sustained in the firefight with deputies Kinchen and English. Jackson recanted his statement two days after making it, but later confessed again in a sworn affidavit, stating that he had only recanted after prison guards threatened him for being a "cop killer". Prosecutors refuted Jackson's testimony, claiming he couldn't have shot the deputies as he was wearing an ankle tag for house confinement that would have showed his location. Al-Amin's lawyers allege that the tag was faulty.

Al-Amin appealed his conviction on the basis of a racial conspiracy against him, despite both Fulton County deputies being black. In May 2004, the Supreme Court of Georgia unanimously ruled to uphold al-Amin's conviction.

In August 2007, al-Amin was transferred to federal custody, as Georgia officials decided he was too high-profile for the Georgia prison system to handle. He was first held in a holdover facility in the USP Atlanta; two weeks later he was moved to a federal transfer facility in Oklahoma, pending assignment to a federal penitentiary.

On October 21, 2007, al-Amin was transferred to ADX Florence, a supermax prison in Florence, Colorado. He has been under an unofficial gag order, prevented from having any interviews with writers, journalists or biographers.

On July 18, 2014, having been diagnosed with multiple myeloma, al-Amin was transferred to Butner Federal Medical Center in North Carolina. As of March 2018, he is incarcerated at the United States Penitentiary, Tucson.

Al-Amin sought retrial through the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals. Investigative journalist, Hamzah Raza, has written more about Otis Jackson's confession to the deputy shootings in 2000, and said that this evidence should have been considered by the court. It had the potential of exonerating al-Amin. However, the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals rejected his appeal on July 31, 2019.

In April 2020, the U.S. Supreme Court declined to hear an appeal from al-Amin. His family and supporters continue to petition for a new trial.

[ausetkmt]

Power Haus Creative’s Black August Month Begins With Support For Activist Jamil Al-Amin

Black August Month has now officially kicked off.

The event is a widespread call to action that encompasses fasting, raising awareness, and offering resources for political prisoners. It is a collaborative effort between Power Haus Creative and community partners Mahmoud Abdul Rauf, Students for Imam Jamil, Black Art in America, and Black Power Media.

The monthlong initiative was founded in California during the 1970s following a prison uprising and the deaths of brothers Johnathan and George Jackson. This year, it is being used to spread awareness and advocate for a new trial for civil rights activist Jamil Abdullah Al-Amin.

Formerly H. Rap Brown, Al-Amin has been incarcerated since 2002. Still, his contributions to the Black liberation movement remain intact. Some consider Al-Amin an enigma. He is the face of an Anti-Riot Act. He was a part of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee. And now he sits in Supermax prison, convicted of murder. However, his son Kairi Al-Amin, Power Haus Creative, and its partners continue to fight for justice after over two decades, alleging cruel and unusual punishment and wrongful conviction. 

“No tangible noise was ever made and as such, my father’s conviction and subsequent exile, a vendetta realized, has gone unchecked,” wrote Kairi Al-Amin in a 2020 petition calling for a new trial.

“The cruel and unusual punishment, the confession of another man, the medical neglect in hopes that he dies, the gag order, the federal holding of a state prisoner away from his attorneys and family, we’ve done nothing about anything and because of our lack of action, much like the man himself, the truth about this case and his legacy have been erased from public view.”

The petition has garnered over 75,000 signatures in three years, but it is still a long way from its goal of 150,000. Despite this, Al-Amin’s advocates remain adamant about their mission, hoping to secure a retrial.

Summayah Ali, founder, and CEO of Power Haus Creative spoke about Al-Amin’s circumstances. “All of our political prisoners need to be released. In the case of Dr. Mutulu Shakur, he was imprisoned for nearly 37 years only to transition eight months after release. We don’t want that for Imam Jamil or anyone that was selfless enough to pave the way for some of the very privileges we benefit from today,” she told BLACK ENTERPRISE.

“They fought for us and deserve far better treatment than this,” she continued.

“My children are in their early 20s and I remind them to sit with the elders as often as possible. As a Muslim woman who’s Black, a  mother, Black Arts Organizer, and an activist I believe we have a responsibility to fight the good fight for those who tilled the soil for us. Imam Jamil is not just a champion for the community but also for the arts. He has said how much the arts played a significant role in the civil rights movement.  We are using the Art of Activism to fight back.”

In line with this mission, participating partners will also be “Feeding the Community,” literally and figuratively, throughout August. Through virtual sessions, scholars and activists will share different information and resources. 

Food drive donations will be accepted throughout the month at the Black Art in America Gallery at 1802 Connaly Dr. in East Point, Georgia. Later this month, on Aug. 28, human rights activist and former NBA player Mahmoud Abdul Rauf will speak at the gallery on an “Art of Activism” panel. For more scheduled events and information, visit @powerhauscreative on Instagram. To request a transfer for Imam Jamil Abdullah Al-Amin, visit wwww.freeimamjamil.com to fill out a three-minute form. 

[xollii]

This speech sends shivers down my spine every time I read it.

[elijones94]

👊🏾✊🏾 “You've got to stop dividing yourselves. You got to organize.”~ Jamil Abdullah al-Amin (H. Rap Brown)

[nando161mando]

🚨URGENT – Take action for our political prisoners! Imam Jamil Al-Amin (H. Rap Brown) – former Black Panther Party leader and political prisoner for the past 24 years – is experiencing a potentially life-threatening growth on his face.

[offtheleashart]

Raised Fists and Guns. These posters chronicle the story of the Black Panther Party, 1967-1970.

From the exhibit “Black Power to Black People: Branding the Black Panther Party” at Poster House, New York 1967 H. Rap Brown (Man with Match), Emory Douglas H. Rap Brown was a member of both the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee and the Black Panther Party. He is associated with the phrase “burn, baby, burn,” hence the match. 1968 Bobby Hutton Murdered, Designer…

[oldshowbiz]

1970.

Objecting to the word "rap."

[randomrichards]

THE SPACE RACE

The long, hard journey

To put black men into space

A hard won battle

[filosofablogger]

♫ Dancing In The Street ♫ (Redux)

I was in the mood for something really upbeat, something that would get the old arthritic toes tapping and bring a smile to the wrinkled old face!  And while several filled that bill, I liked this one best for the moment!  Yes, I’ve played it a few times before, as recently as last year, in fact, but … it still fills the bill tonight!  So, sit back, listen, and enjoy!  Maybe even let your toes…

[unsolicited-opinions]

On recent far-left attacks on the Anti-Defamation League

Before we start:

- I think the ADL is wrong about Musk's salutes.

- I think the ADL's Israel advocacy sometimes comes into conflict with their mission in the diaspora. I think their methodologies for data collection and reporting need improvement.

- I think that the ADL is flawed, imperfect and does much more good than harm.

---

Christopher Hitchens put into words what academics used to live by:

"What can be asserted without evidence can also be dismissed without evidence".

The burden of proof is on those making the claim, and the claims of droptheadl.org aren't supported with primary sources or evidence.

For example:

To support its claims about the ADL and SNCC, droptheadl.org offers a link, presenting it as a citation.

This is a link to a Google Books entry. There's no actual text, no citation, no chapter, no page, just the claim that somewhere in this 300-page book exists proof of the ADL denouncing SNCC as racist.

However, that's not in the book. Chapter two talks about this incident in detail, so I read it.

In reaponse to a SNCC newsletter (this is what a primary source looks like!) containing many factual errors about Israel,

...Morris Abram, president of the American Jewish Committee (AJC), summed up their outrage: “Anti-Semitism is anti-Semitism whether it comes from the Ku Klux Klan or from extremist Negro groups

[For those who haven't studied the era: at this point, "Negro" was still the word which the black community preferred. The transition to widespread identification as 'black' got going in the 60s and finished in the 70s. The use of the word 'Negro' here is not a slur. I state this in advance because I know how the illiberal left weilds its willful ignorance]

...

Abram was also careful to echo what the ADL had said: that SNCC’s article put it in the same anti-Israeli trench as the Arab world and the Soviet Union.

That's verifiably, unquestionably true. That's the position SNCC took, because that's where they got their information.

Droptheadl.org lied. This book doesn't say what they claim it says, which is why they didn't quote it or offer a specific citation. Why let facts get in the way of the narrative which makes them feel good about themselves?

The book, which I recommend reading, isn't about the ADL. It's a scholarly examination of the relationships between the wars the Arab world launched on Israel and the US Civil Rights Movement. This requires much discussion of the impact on the complex relationships between black communities and Jewish communities in the US in the context of their views on Israel and Palestine.

It's fascinating. Here's another excerpt illustrating why many Jews saw SNCC as taking an antisemitic turn:

One day in May of 1967, [Stokely] Carmichael and [H. Rap] Brown were in Alabama chatting with Donald Jelinek, a lawyer who worked with SNCC.

Jelinek, who was Jewish, expressed his positive feelings about Israel and his concerns about the Jewish state’s situation in that tension-filled month as war clouds were on the horizon in the Middle East.

“So it was a shock to me,” Jelinek later recounted, “when my SNCC friends mildly indicated support for the Arabs.” Mildly stated or not, their sentiments prompted Jelinek to reply, “But they may wipe out and destroy Israel.”

Carmichael adroitly changed the subject with some humor, and the men began laughing.

Jelinek thereafter overheard Brown quietly singing to himself, “arms for the Arabs, sneakers for the Jews.” When Jelinek asked him what that song meant, an embarrassed Brown explained that he had learned the song as a student in Louisiana. It implied that the Israelis would need sneakers (tennis shoes) to run from the Arabs, who were armed with weapons from abroad.

My qualms with this, my disappointment in and disagreement with both Carmichael and Brown doesn't make me a racist. It doesn't make the AJC or the ADL racist and it doesn't make Jelinek, the Jewish lawyer working with SNCC, a racist or a poor ally.

Zionism is the belief that Jews should have self-determination in their homeland.

Nazism was the belief that racially superior Aryans own the world, should be organized through fascist methods, and that the genocide of the Jewish people was explicitly required because they were the source of all evil and the obstacle to progress.

These are not the same. Suggesting they are the same, as Carmichael did, is morally and intellectually bankrupt. Pointing this out doesn't make me a racist. It makes me literate.

I still own a copy of Carmichael's book, Black Power. Carmichael (who later changed his name to Kwame Ture) was a complex person. Like every other historical figure, he was neither a saint nor a demon.

I can admire a lot about the Black Panthers without falsely claiming that nothing they ever did or said was troubling, poorly reasoned, or bigoted. The world is more complex than that.

There are no saints. Learn this important truth and use it to guide your understanding of the world around you. There are no saints.

Gandhi, for instance, was a great leader for Indian self-rule and a visionary of nonviolent protest. He was also a racist as a young man who said black people "...are troublesome, very dirty and live like animals." Read about his work in South Africa. He was also really weird about sex and slept naked with his grand niece, which we rightly recognize today as sexual abuse. He wasn't a saint or a demon, he was a person.

People are complex and flawed. If you want to understand people, history, and movements, wrap your head around this as keep it with you: People and their movements are complex and flawed.

But the depth of reasoning I see from the illiberal left is "ADL criticized SNCC, so they're Nazis."

No, child. The world is much, much more complex than that. Why did you go to college if you weren't going to learn anything there?

My 14yo is right. US leftists (not liberals, leftists) are allergic to nuance and discard the facts contradicting any narrative which makes them feel good about themselves.

Selah

Deep breath in, slow breath out.

The book is really delves into some of the factors contributing to the deteriorating relationship at the time between Jewish Americans and Black Americans. It points to this essay by James Baldwin, titled "Negroes Are Anti-Semitic Because They're Anti-White." I urge you to read it, it is a fascinating artifact of its time and place.

And this:

Jews had long advocated for black liberation by, for example, playing a role in the foundation of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) in 1909. Jewish support for blacks was well known; as early as February of 1942, the American Jewish Committee published a study titled “Jewish Contribution to Negro Welfare.” Having experienced the sting of anti-Semitism, many Jews believed they were fighting in the same trench against discrimination alongside African Americans. When the civil rights struggle grew to become a mass movement in the 1950s and early 1960s, Jewish moral and financial support was crucial, and Jews were disproportionately well-represented among those whites who lent their support to the cause. Jewish financial contributions to civil rights groups were also significant. Jews even were the subject of criticism from some southern whites for the high-profile role they played in helping blacks win their freedom. All this compounded a sense of betrayal by SNCC that was felt by many Jewish Americans.

It should not be surprising or taken as racist that Jews objected to SNCC's advocacy against Israel's existence and I maintain that any call for Israel to be destroyed is innately, inarguably antisemitic. No other nation endures calls for its destruction. Just the Jewish one.

There was unquestionably tension between SNCC and the entire spectrum of non-black Americans who supported SNCC when SNCC ejected non-black members. From our perspective, decades removed, I can understand both why SNCC members narrowly voted for this AND why non-black members of SNCC were hurt and disillusioned. All of those perspectives were (and are) valid.

When I was an undergrad studying African American Political Thought, we discussed these tensions head-on, using primary sources, and evaluated them dispassionately.

We concluded that there are no villains in this story. SNCC got a bunch of facts wrong about Israel, their staunch Jewish allies were profoundly disappointed, saw hypocrisy in SNCC's position, and said so.

I think that far left Americans overlaid their feelings about a domestic struggle on a foreign one where they don't fit...and then discarded the facts and the complexity which got in the way of a satisfying narrative which made them feel like the good guys instead of forcing them to grapple with an uncomfortably complex reality.

I think that's what the illiberal left still does. It doesn't like complexity, it doesn't like academic rigor, it likes stories it can tell itself about its moral purity and discards facts, complexity, or rigor which threaten their view of themselves as saviors.

The world is complex. People are complex. Movements are complex. Organizations are complex. History is complex. Justice is complex.

The ADL isn't perfect, its leaders haven't been and are not saints or tzadikim, but the good they do for all Americans radically outweighs their failings and I'm going to keep supporting them while yelling at them to do better.

If you're an ADL hater and have any actual evidence and primary sources on racism from the ADL, I really want to see it, because this weak sauce from droptheadl.org doesn't make the case the illiberal left thinks it makes. And they'd know that if they had learned anything in college about how scholarship works and how arguments are constructed.

The illiberal left perhaps forgets how the ADL responded when Trump called for requiring American Muslims to register.

“If one day Muslim Americans will be forced to register their identities, then that is the day that this proud Jew will register as a Muslim. ”

- ADL chief executive Jonathan Greenblatt

[arinzechukwuture]

“Violence is as American as cherry pie. If America don’t come around, we’ll burn her down.”

H. Rap Brown

SNCC

Former Chairman

[freakingholland]

freakingholland's batboys headcanons part 1

A/N: Hi cuties! After posting some dc comics related imagines over the last couple of years I've decided to finally post a list of my own headcanons for batboys! Just a disclaimer - these are based on multiple dc related media (comics, shows, fan-made content) as well as just my imagination. I do not mean any harm with these! Also if you agree/disagree with these let me know in the comments/asks/rbs because I'm super intrested in what you guys think and your own fanons! Stay whelmed xx questions/ideas here! - rules here my AO3 archive is here If you enjoyed my work: Ko-fi.com/freakingholland masterlist

Dick Grayson (25-29ish yo)

Wears contacts all the time when he’s out. His sight used to be perfect up until puberty. Only wears prescription glasses when he knows he’ll spend the entire day wearing sunglasses – has prescription on them (he does have an emergency pair of regular glasses though).

Has a deep set of dimples. More visible when he’s a dehydrated raisin of a human being. He has a special bottle for just water to force himself to drink more.

Is left handed. His siblings bother him for that matter when he accidentally elbows somebody while eating.

Is “silently” addicted to energy drinks. Has tried to switch to other beverages but ultimately always goes back to energy drinks.

Sings in the shower, has a genuinely good singing voice. Pretends to be shy when people suggest doing karaoke.

Has chronic wrist pain due to a bad fracture.

Is a minimalist. Hates clutter and frequently gets rid of things like clothes, unnecessary gadgets, kitchen utensils etc.

Loves rock climbing and bouldering.

Has pockmarks on his cheeks. Had tried different products to make them fade away, but gave up and accepted his fate.

Uses a lot of post-it notes around his apartment.

Jason Todd (22-24ish yo)

Jason is the only one with brown eyes. You cannot convince me otherwise. Don’t try to.

He’s the best cook out of all the guys. Finds it very therapeutic. Genuinely enjoys making meals especially if others can stop by for dinner or pick up his food. (always makes me think of those pics of him and Dick in the kitchen in Gotham Knights!)

Has type 1 diabetes, uses a pump. (As mentioned here!)

Has a private library stamp for his book collection because any time someone visits him, somebody borrows (steals) books from him.

Plays the violin, self-taught as an adult. It’s his “safe” hobby that convinces his neighbours that he’s just a regular guy.

Has a full arm tattoo sleeve, it’s his way of dealing with body dysmorphia and body image issues. His tattoos include book references, fav movie characters and different symbols for all of the siblings (not their super hero stuff though, for safety reasons).

Has reading glasses. (As mentioned here!)

Hates arugula, loves Italian cuisine. He is not afraid of carbs (his glucose monitor states otherwise) and makes noodles often.

Has wavy hair but doesn’t use proper products for his texture.

Has veryyy straight teeth naturally. Others are jealous.

Tim Drake (20-21ish yo)

Journals. Even when he’s severely sleep deprived. It’s his way of dealing with heavy stuff, but also his archive in case he goes missing.

Has a nintendo switch. Doesn’t really use it but he knows that Damian steals it that’s why he keeps it instead of selling it.

Has a proper skin care routine. It includes dying his hair dark every 4 weeks cause he has gray hairs due to stress.

Uses ktape regularly. Struggles with chronic back pain and uses a foam roller.

Is vegan. Doesn’t try to convince other peeps to switch to veganism knowing that they are barely capable of making food for themselves. Will make an exception and eat meat if it’s a meal prepared by somebody close to him.

Is a huge music fan, listens to music often. Mostly metal, but also pop, rap. Doesn’t really discriminate music genres.

Loves playing board games. Is the type to bring board games to social meetings of sorts in case people want to play.

Has a very pleasant, contagious laugh. Rarely laughs out loud, but those who know his laugh try hard to make him laugh for that matter.

Has really sparse facial hair. Would like to grow out a stache or beard but cannot.

Blushes very easily. Doesn’t like it. Despises cold temperatures for that matter.

[bunnyywritings]

extra credit assignment with the professor and honey bunny

PROFESSOR STEIN x F!READER

[a/n: sorry sorry! i'm falling behind...my motivation is waning BUT i am determined to finish this series so here's what should've been posted yesterday on my birthday ! professor stein will always be so fucking hot in my eyes...he can tie me down and dissect me any day lol anyways, once again: my use of the term 'little' has nothing to do with any body size or weight, this fic is also a little more on the 'plus size reader' side, sorry it just came out that way, i also dropped the ball and made him an ethics teacher instead of a bio/chem teacher like i originally thought...i blame @gojonanami and her amazing professor suguru series...i'm obsessed !!🫶🏼]

© bunnyywritings pls don't use my headers or writing without permission

wc: 3.1k words

WARNINGS: teacher/student dynamic (OF AGE), power dynamic, age gap, "shy" reader, skewed descriptions of ethics cause i googled and read like two things, sir kink, hair pulling, cowgirl, stein bends you over his desk, mating press, breeding kink, creampie, no use of y/n, reader is called: bunny, sweetheart, good girl, sweet girl, honey

“You need my measurements?” You asked, not sure if you heard him right. “What for?” 

“Well for your outfit, of course.” He chuckled, finding it amusing that you had already forgotten what the two of you had spoken about.Especially when your confusion led to a small lull of silence on the line. 

“Oh…oh right! Right, the whole school girl thing…uh okay-” You rattled them out and he wrote them down, scrolling through the website on his laptop to try and find the right look for you. 

When you two finally met, you were pleased with the tasteful outfit he had chosen. It looked like a legitimate look you’d wear to school. The light brown plaid skirt was paired with a white button up, a knit sweater vest, sheer pantyhose and brown loafers. 

He was sat behind a gorgeous mahogany desk, a small smile on his lips. “Have you ever done a scene like this?” You were flicking through the short script he had given you…more of a guideline really. 

“Uhmm n-no, not as in depth as this or with a partner. I did it for a live cam once…” You blushed, feeling somewhat insecure beneath his gaze. 

Stein was one of the more seasoned creators on the platform. His production quality was always high and his scenes balanced with both porn and plot. He was also extremely attractive. His dyed silver locks framed his face beautifully, his eyes reminded you of green sea glass as they sat behind his silver eyewear and his build…God. He was tall and lean with broad shoulders and thick arms. His hands were big, lithe fingers just the right amount of thickness, knuckles prominent against his smooth, pale skin. 

Not to mention the age gap between the two of you…the power dynamic was going to be a little more believable when he was 14 years older than you. 

“You ready, sweetheart?” 

“Mhmm, yes…Professor.” 

And so, you stepped out of his office. Standing at the door for a good minute or two before rapping your knuckles against the shining wood. 

“Come in!” His voice was muffled but you took your cue and pushed the door open, making sure to shut it softly behind you. “Ah, bunny! Come on in, have a seat.” He gestured to the cushioned seat in front of his desk. His smile was soft as you stood by the door for a few moments before finally moving. 

“R-Right. Thank you, P-Professor.” You gingerly sat in the seat, back straight and stiff as you tugged the hem of your skirt. 

“So, what brings you to my office hours, hmm?” 

“Uhm well, I-I hate to admit it but I’ve been h-having a little trouble with our uhm, our new unit…” 

“Oh! Well, no need to be embarrassed, Kantism is a challenging subject. What exactly were you having trouble with?” 

“Categorical imperatives…” You shift your eyes away, cheeks flushing. 

“I see…well-” He starts to ramble on with the definition, rubbing his chin as he did so and you found it difficult to not stare at his fingers. “-does that make sense?” 

You blink yourself out of your daze before nodding, “I-I’m following.” 

A subtle smirk tugs his lips as he continues. “Kant also says that there are three different moral actions-” You wring your hands in your lap, playing up the nervous, jumpy act. As he continues to explain how utilitarianism plays a part in this subject, you tune back in. “That should be a bit more clarifying for you.” You nodded eagerly. “Did you have any other questions? Kant or otherwise?” 

“Y-yes actually.” You bit your lip, eyes widening as you clarified. “Not-not about Kant! I uhm…I was hoping to ask about some…extra credit opportunities?” He frowned, head tilting to the side. “My uhm, my grade isn’t where I-I’d like it to be…” You trailed off, eyes dropping to read the name placard displayed on his desk. He turns to his laptop, ‘typing and scrolling’ before the tension in his forehead releases. “Ah, a B- isn’t so bad, is it?” 

“W-Well no but I…I would like to keep my grade point average and grad-graduate summa cum laude…” 

“Hmm right, right…an understandable goal.” He closed his laptop, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Has my unit been so difficult that you’re falling behind? Is everything alright?” The slight twinge of concern in his voice made your thighs clench. Something that did not go unnoticed. 

“I’m sorry, Professor. I just seem to be dis-distracted…lately.” Your confession leaves him amused and you with bright, flushed cheeks. 

“Distracted?” He leans forward, elbows resting on the top of the desk, his chin in his palm. “I see…is it a boy, perhaps?” 

“N-No!” You grip the fabric of your skirt. “No…I uhm-I’m not seeing any-anyone.” 

His eyebrows jump. “Really? Forgive me for saying so but, surely you have boys throwing themselves at you?” 

A quiet, almost nervous laugh leaves your lips. “Yeah…n-no. Not that I’d really want the attention from guys here…guys my age, they uhm…well, they tend to be vulgar and simple minded.” 

“Hmm, yes, I suppose you’re right.” A silence lingers after his words. “A pretty, intelligent little thing like you should be treated with reverence.” 

Your eyes widen to the size of saucers, squeaking out a, “Professor…” 

“Ah right, forgive me. That was highly inappropriate”. He sighed. “So, extra credit…I usually don’t make it a habit to offer it, since students use it as an excuse to lag behind-” He catched how your lips drop into a pout, eyes glistening with unspoken pleas. “But, if you tell me what’s been so distracting as of late, maybe we can come up with a solution to help you out, hmm? You’re a bright student and I’d hate to be the reason you lose your sheen.” 

You shake your head with earnest. That’s the worst thing you could do…how could you possibly tell him that-

“There’s no need to be shy, hmm? We’re both adults here and I’ve been teaching for years, I’m sure I can stomach it.” 

You mumble out a reason, as quiet and jumbled as you could, hoping to God that he’d give up and drop the subject. Your eyes trained in your lap in fear that you might give it away. Your deepest, darkest, secret…

He stands, rounding the desk and leaning on the edge of it. Gently but firmly, he grips your chin and forces you to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t quite catch that…” His thumb caressed the skin below your bottom lip and you had to fight the urge to tilt your head down and take his digit between your lips. 

“S’you…s-sir.”

“I’m sorry, come again?” 

“It’s you, s-sir!” And oh, the way your lips wrapped around the honorific made his dick twitch against his slacks. 

“Is that right?” He felt like a fox playing with his dinner, the way your wide eyes stared up into his, begging to be devoured whole. 

“Y-yes…” 

He gripped your chin tighter, ignoring the whine that left your throat as he growled a hoarse. “Yes, what?”

“Yes sir!” 

“Hmm good…” He sneered. “What exactly is it about me that’s so distracting?” He hummed, removing his hand from your chin, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Y-You can’t ask-ask me something like that…”

He chuckled, “Of course I can…and I expect an answer.” His eyes darkened lustfully. “So tell me, bunny. What’s distracting?” 

You fidgeted in your seat, fingers clenching the fabric of your skirt again. “Uhm…y-your voice…your hands-” 

He found it hard to resist a scoffed laugh and in the blink of an eye he stood behind you, leaned over just above your shoulder. “You like my voice?” His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, his silky voice sending shivers down your spine and a rush of heat to your core. “Do you rewatch my lectures when you’re in your room? Touch that pretty pussy to the sound of my voice, hmm?” His lips pressed a feather light kiss behind your ear as you whined and as he trailed down your neck, the messier they got. His lips were surprisingly soft, massaging the sensitive skin at the hollow of your neck. 

You tilted your head back against his shoulder, opening yourself up to him. “Why don’t you show me.” He reached around the sides of the chair and roughly gripped your thighs watching as your flesh squished between his fingers, splitting your legs open for him and before you could even think to protest, a loud rip! filled the office. He had torn the crotch of your sheer pantyhose to reveal your soaked panties. “Is this all for me? You’re soaked…” He tsked, pushing your panties aside and tugging your folds open, caressing your pulsing clit with barely there touches. 

“Mhmm, all-all for you, sir…s’yours, all yours.” You keened at his gentle touches, hips twitching and desperate for more friction. 

“Then be a good girl and show me how you touch yourself to my voice.” You replaced your hands with his, starting to circle your bud in slow, soft circles, a drawn out moan leaving your glossed lips. 

“Good girl…” He purred. “Now suck on my fingers, show me how much you love my hands…that’s it.”

You wrapped your lips around his fingers, tongue swirling around his cold digits in earnest before taking them deeper into your mouth, gagging softly when his fingertips met the back of your throat before pulling back and taking them back in.

As you began to bob your head on his fingers, he couldn’t help pawing himself through the front of his gray slacks. His precum, no doubt staining the front of the fabric. “Oh look at you! Such a shy and prude girl, getting herself off while choking on her Professor’s fingers…fuck.” Your thighs twitched as you neared your first orgasm, sucking on his fingers bringing you more arousal than you thought possible. 

“Don’t even think about it.” He almost snarled, shoving his fingers roughly to the back of your throat. Your shoulders jolting as a particularly harsh gag wracked through your body. “Put your hands by your side.” Reluctantly, you did as instructed and he pulled his fingers from your mouth, giving your poor lungs a reprieve. 

As you attempted to catch your breath, he wrapped your hair around his fingers and pulled roughly, the action pulling you up from your seat before he was shoving you towards his desk. “Ahh! P-Professor!” With his fist still tugging at your locks, he bent you over and pushed your head down against the desk, your cheek landing harshly on a notebook and a few stray papers. 

“I’ve got to say…you’ve been quite the distraction as well. Always sitting in the front of my class, chewing on your lips or your pens-” He unbuckled his belt, popping his trousers open and letting them drop down around his thighs. “Always in your cute little outfits and short skirts.” He flipped your skirt over your ass. “I’ve dreamed of having you bent over my desk, creaming all over my cock.” He stroked himself a few times before tapping his heavy tip against your stocking covered ass. 

Not being able to help it, you wiggle your hips tauntingly. He groaned, “Oh just look at you…” He muttered before grasping the base of his cock and lining himself up with your entrance.

Your nails dug into the wood of the desk as he pushed himself in. Entranced with the way you seemed to be sucking him in, inch by agonizing inch, your poor pussy being stretched to accommodate his girth. You tried to push yourself further up the desk in an attempt to get respite from his sweltering length. 

“Nuh uh…don’t run, sweet girl. Don’t run…” He roughly gripped your hips and pulled you back onto him, sheathing himself entirely in your warm, gummy walls. “Stay right there.” 

Stein was brutal, bullying his dick into you repeatedly, meeting your womb in a deliciously painful kiss so much so that you lost track of time. “S’too much! T-Too…much!” 

Completely ignoring your cries, he snapped his hips once more and stilled them against your behind, pulling you with him as he sat in the chair you had been previously sitting in, situating you on his lap.“You wanted extra credit, right?” 

“Y-Yes sir…but-” 

“Then put in the work, bunny.” He brought his hand down in a rough slap against your ass cheek. “Show me how much you deserve that A.” 

Arching your back, you leaned forward and rested your hands on the tops of his thighs. Taking a deep breath, you lifted yourself slowly. Making it only halfway up before dropping yourself back down. It only took two thrusts before your legs were threatening to give out. The pleasure was overwhelming, Steins low moans and grunts only adding fuel to the fire. 

“S-Stein! I’m- M’gonna…!” You dropped back down on his length, back hunching over as your orgasm ripped through your entire body, mind reeling as you completely forgot to play up the whole ‘sir’ thing while Stein’s grip tightened around your waist so you didn’t fall over. 

Stein brushed your hair over your shoulder, pressing gentle kisses to the nape of your neck, tongue licking up the salty perspiration gathered there. “Shhh…shh, that’s a good girl…I made you feel that good, hmm?” 

A delirious giggle left your lips as you let Stein pick you up, inhaling sharply as he pulled out of you, your release dripping down his, still painfully hard, cock and onto the trimmed blonde hair at its base. 

Gaining a second wind, you shoved his name placard and a few other things aside before sitting on his desk, reaching for the hem of your sweater vest and tugging it off over your head along with your button up shirt and mindlessly tossing it aside. He watched hungrily as you kicked off your skirt and widened your thighs, the heels of your loafers resting on the edge of his desk. Your folds were dripping with arousal, your skin flushed and puffy as you clenched around nothing. 

“C’mon Professor, don’t keep your favorite student waiting…” 

Scoffing, he shrugged his tweed jacket off and you started to salivate. His mock neck shirt was short sleeved and tight. Almost like it was painted on him. His biceps bulged deliciously against the thin fabric, the urge to run your tongue across the veins running down his arms was strong but you held onto whatever self control you had left and waited for him to make his way between your legs. 

“And who said you were my favorite student?” A wet slap! slap! echoed his words as he tapped his tip against your clit. 

“You do this with all your students then?” You whined. “That’s no fair…” A pout tugged at your lips. 

He laughed softly, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender embrace, biting your bottom lip before pulling away. “I’m just teasing, bunny. You are, by far, my favorite…student.” He punctuated his statement by snapping his hips forward and burying himself into your sloppy core. 

“Ah-!” You lost your balance and landed onto the desk with a soft thump against the wood. He gripped the bottom of your thighs and pushed your legs up and folding you in half, straight into a mating press. The fabric of your pantyhose tightening against your skin.

His desk creaked with each of his heavy thrusts, scraping against the hardwood floor once or twice. “God, it was like this cunt was made for me! She’s swallowing me up so well…so warm…n’wet!” 

Your eyes rolled back in your head, the press he had you in made it feel like he was quite literally rearranging your insides, your mind quickly growing fuzzy and clouded with thoughts of his huge, thick cock and the way his scent enveloped you entirely as he leaned over to plant kisses down your neck, no doubt sucking marks into it. 

Stein felt himself twitch inside you as he gazed down at you. Your face was screwed up in pleasure, lips glossy with spit and parted as moans and whimpers fell from your lips. “Let me see those pretty eyes, honey. Come on.” Your eyelids fluttered open, lined with tears and the pretty color of your iris was swallowed up by your blown out pupils, hazy with euphoria. 

He shifted your hips and slipped deeper into you, if it was even possible, and found that spot that made you see stars. You fought to keep your eyes on him as you became consumed by one thing only. Your second orgasm. 

“Fuck…I-” He whimpered as you clamped down around him. “I-I’m gonna cum…” He groaned, attempting to keep a steady pace to bring you over the edge with him. “Where-?” He grunted, choked with pleasure. 

“Inside me, please! I want- fill me up, sir…p-please -!” Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream, your release shaking your body, thighs burning as your legs shook. Overstimulation creeping up on you as he chased his end. 

“Want me to breed this pretty little cunt? Huh? Make you a momma for extra credit?”

“Y-Yes! Yes!” You started to babble, a few tears slipping down your cheeks. 

His moans became hoarse, desperate whimpers, hips twitching before he stilled in you. Balls tightening as he emptied his load into you. A full, warm feeling taking over your body as your chest heaves to catch your breath. 

He pulled out with a hiss, watching his spend trickle out of you before fucking it back into you with his fingers, laughing softly as you whimpered. Your hips twitch to get away from him, and he apologizes. 

“M’sorry bunny, don’t want it to go to waste…” He then eased your legs down around his waist, massaging his fingertips into your tense skin. He watched in amusement as you leaned forward, lips pursed subtly and he met your lips. Exchanging a few kisses before easing you to sit up and wrapping his arms around you, cuddling you into his chest.

“I’d say that’s earned you an A+...” 

You cackled against his chest. “Yeah, it better have.” 

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@seireiteihellbutterfly @xxstarlightxx @indieburn

[something-wild-calls]

Got another combo part this time! It's pretty long, so I'll put it under a Read More.

Minor warning for a past injury mention!

Previous Next

FIRST

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The first thing he noticed was the warmth of fur pressed against his neck.

Eyes closed, he rolled his head to the side, muttering to his little companion.

He felt a wave of unease.

It was never this hard to wake up. Well, maybe once or twice, but that thought did little to ease his worry.

He tried to lift his arm to gently usher the hot lump of fur off his neck. But his arm barely moved, and an ache pulsed up it. He tested other limbs, only to be met with the same resistance.

What had happened? What horrible state was his body in this time?

With all his might, he cracked his eyes open. His vision was blurry and tired, but he could instantly tell he was somewhere unfamiliar. All he saw above him was brown. ...Trees? ...Without leaves?

Or sky?

His head rolled again, and he realized that the surface it was on wasn't hard. Even if it was grass, there was no solid earth, nor the scratchy unpleasantness of dry straw. He focused to see what it was.

A...

Pillow?

A pillow...

He was in a building.

He doubted he'd gotten himself here. Surely he'd remember that.

So how...?

The dragon had claimed—

He gasped, a wave of clarity crashing over him.

The dragon...

The poachers...

The...

He shuddered, and that was enough to rouse Pari from her sleep. Her head lifted beside him, her pale purple eyes blinking into alertness.

She gave a trill when she saw Cody's own green gaze fixed warmly at her. She nuzzled him, and he groaned as his habitual attempt to pet her was met with the aching resistance once more.

“Pari...” His voice was slurred with the haze he was still struggling to break free from. “Wh-wh're we? A hsp'tal...?”

The pink imp opened her mouth, but at that moment, a knock rapped. Cody strained his gaze toward the sound, and managed to see a door open and a plump woman in an outfit walk in. Pari buried herself in his blankets.

The newcomer gasped when she saw him looking at her, but recovered quickly. “Why, hello! It's nice to see you awake!”

Cody blinked in a fruitless effort to adjust his eyes, attempting and aborting a wave. It was frustrating, having his body rebel against his wishes.

Please, voice, don't you fail me... “H...hi....” He took a deep breath, starting to feel a bit more energy return, though his voice was still weak. “I... I'm sorry... I d'n mean t'... be rude....”

The woman waved her hand, wrinkles accentuating her smile. “Don't you worry about it, dear! You were in horrible shape when you came in. Even with magical healing, it can still be hard to recover. I'm sure you're exhausted.”

At that, a new wave of alertness jolted through Cody. “Magical healing? D... did you guys heal me with magic?”

The woman nodded chipperly. “Mhm! To the best of our ability. Can I get you anything, Cody?”

“Water, please.” Suddenly, he flinched. “How'd you know my name?”

“Our chief's sister claimed that's what your name was.”

Cody thought for a moment, but he was still too drained to make sense of it. So for now, he smiled. “Well, she's right, however that is. I'm Cody Rennard.”

“It's nice to meet you, Cody. I'm Atta! Now then, I'll go get you that water.”

~ ~ ~

For the next while, Cody drifted in and out of consciousness. Each time he woke, he felt a bit stronger. Eventually he ate—A simple soup, but the most delicious thing he'd eaten in a long while.

At one point, noticing that his shoes had been removed, he studied his left foot where the wound should've been. A neat scar shone on the top of it where it had been stabbed through, and he marveled at how effective the healing had been.

What a skill to have...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"We also located a bag near where you were found, presumably yours." Cody pried his attention from the glaring girl to focus on the brown-haired man. "It's being safely kept at our place until you're in a good place to have it back."

The blond werewolf nodded with a smile. "Thank you!"

He couldn't help flicking his gaze back to Jamie, who stood unmoving, her eyes fixed on him.

As Cody tried to find words to speak about the prior events, Jordan gave the girl a soft nudge. "Come on, Jamie, you're freaking him out. Ease up a little."

She glanced at her brother, but otherwise did nothing else.

Clearly she still didn't like the idea of him being here...

Jordan looked at Cody, a hint of annoyance flickering in his eyes. "Perhaps we should go. I hope you feel back to normal swiftly, Cody. It's nice to meet you."

"Y-yeah!" Cody waved at them. "Thank you! Likewise!"

As the door clicked behind them, Cody couldn't help feeling just a bit hollow. There was so much he wanted to say. To ask. To learn.

He whispered more to himself than to the imp who scuttled up onto his lap. "That was the dragon, right? She had to be... She brought me to her home after all..." He looked at Pari. "I suppose you probably had a hand in that."

Pari shrugged, flicking her long tail. "She acted pretty quickly by herself. I don't think she was as eager to leave you on your own as we thought."

"...Huh..." He laid back on the bed, his little companion reclaiming her spot on his chest. "I wonder what her story is... An actual real dragon..."

He sighed, his mind swimming through pages of books he'd read over the years of these beings known only to legends.

"I can't say I blame her for being defensive... She's probably had it as bad as we have..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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FIRST

[kenyatta]

But for all its virtues, “Days of Rage” provides little historical context, or explanation for the forces that produced and shaped the left’s terrorist turn. Burrough quotes an F.B.I. agent to the effect that in 1972 there were over 1,900 domestic bombings in the United States, the implication being that they were all committed by left-wing groups. But for many decades before, right-wing groups were responsible for much, perhaps most of the nation’s political violence. The militant anti-­Communist Minutemen organization was founded in 1960 by Robert DePugh, who published a pamphlet a year later entitled “Principles of Guerrilla Warfare”; indicted in 1968 for conspiracy to commit bank robbery, he went underground before being captured the following year. Anti-­civil rights bombings by Klansmen were so common in Birmingham, Ala., in the early 1960s (including the one in 1963 that left four young girls dead in the 16th Street Baptist Church) that the city was derided as “Bombingham.” In the early 1970s the right-wing Jewish Defense League was planting bombs and engaging in other violent ­anti-Soviet and anti-Arab activities. As the black militant H. Rap Brown famously observed in 1967, violence was “as American as cherry pie.” Left wingers like Weatherman and the Black Liberation Army didn’t invent political violence in the late 1960s and ’70s.

- From a 2015 NYT review of “Days of Rage” by Bryan Burrough