duke johnson

president of the desert wolves motorcycle club.

[dukejohnsons-blog]

camillexjohnson:

“He will be out any second now, I promise.” The sentence was practically recited like an automated voice message from the amount of times she’d gotten asked where Duke was, when he was going to show, when they could speak to him. It didn’t help that he wasn’t as sociable as they’d like–but that was just who he was. Others took it as a challenge, the more they talked to him the more they’d get to know him. Camille knew better and in no way was that even remotely useful to her job. 

“Congratulations!” Camille called out (a little too loudly from relief) the second her brother appeared, finally, from the back room. Her applause prompted others to follow, whistles and cheers causing a smile to pull onto Duke’s features. Speech! was called out, causing Camille to shake her head with a knowing smile, moving through the crowd to congratulate him herself. “I have one written for you in case you do decide to give one.” 

"Hey sis," he said as his eyes moved across the group of people and spotted Camille. Duke put his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her along with him as he made it to the bar. The Crowed didn't seem to stop their applause, most of them already wasted he could have said anything and they would have been happy. They seemed happy enough to cheer, and go back to their party as he sat down on a stool at the bar.

He wasn't here to appease the masses. He was here to lead the Desert wolves.

"You don't have to try and wrangle this crew until it looks like someone is about to destroy the place, y'know?" He said tossing his sister an amused look. "Herding cats isn't part of your job description."

He wondered if she did shit like that for Roberto -- but she probably hadn't needed to. He'd always been better at it. 

Even so, it wasn’t Camille's job, ‘secretary’ might be her title but she wasn’t a secretary in a typical  sense. She didn’t have to write his speeches, Duke held his hand out. "Let’s see it."

[dukejohnsons-blog]

octaviaspvcks:

          — Octavia poured a couple of shots out for a pair of hang arounds as she laughed at an off-topic conversation about comic books. Shaking her head she had a look of amusement. ‘’You really are a nerd, JC.’’ She jokes turning to the next person to serve. When they told her it was a free bar, of course, someone had paid for it all up front but to the rest of the people in the room it was a free for all and the idea hadn’t been much a winner with Octavia at first. But now she could see that everyone let lose because money was no longer a factor in them having a good night. Sighing she turned to the next customer and then couldn’t help the warm smile that happened to slip across her red gloss painted lips. 

                  ‘‘Duke—’‘ She acknowledges him as she grabs a glass to put a drink in for him ‘‘Are we going for top shelf tonight seeing as it’s all free?’‘ Octavia asks using her eyes to gesture towards the line of good whiskey that hardly ever got touched, unless of course it was herself drinking it. 

              ‘‘And may I just add that you and speeches were never a good thing, especially if you’re having a few drinks.’‘ Octavia chuckles shaking her head at the thought ‘‘What the hell would you even say? Hi I’m duke and I guess I’m the boss. Cool. Sike. lets drink?’‘ She tries her best to mimic his voice but just laughs at how bad it sounds. 

              ‘‘I’ll never do that again. I sounded horrible.’‘

"Might as well give me the best," Duke chuckled. They'd have to refill all the stores after this was over either way. He wasn't quite sure exactly how 'free' this night was going to be for the club (therefore himself as well) but he'd enjoy it while he could.

There was amusement that sparkled in his eyes at Octavia's words, and her attempt at mimicing him. "Nah, that wasn't that bad," he said -- clearly lying. "You should just jump up on the bar here, and give some sort of speech for me. I doubt anyone will be able to tell the difference." Right now there was one group of people who deserved to hear from him. That was his club. Other than that ...

Duke appriciated everyone that had come here. But if they didn't have a wolf on their back? He wasn't concerned about what they thought of his ability to lead, or any inspiring words that came from his mouth.

"You can take my cane and smack anyone over the head with it if they start questioning if you're really me or not. That will have to be good enough to convince them."

[dukejohnsons-blog]

russjohnson:

He absolutely hated to admit it, but walking into the club where he grew up with the music pumping and half the people not noticing him yet– well, shit, this was the home. Russ used to be the biggest hit during these parties, hopping in the ring to get the crowd rumbling or announcing that he’s going to buy drinks for everyone, even if it was a free bar. If he tried doing that now, someone might punch him in the face. Was it messed up that despite the nostalgia, he kind of wants someone to punch him in the face? Rhetorical question. This was a waiting game, however, and you can’t get kicked out of the party as soon as you enter. Clay would probably murder him fir it, anyhow.

Instead of walking up to the bar, where his usual safe space was, he stole some guys whiskey glass when he wasn’t looking and stood in the middle of the crowd, where any passerby could notice him, and began what would end up being a drunk stupor. Russell wondered who would notice him first and the thought of playing games delighted him. 

( word games or whatever, it all sounded good. but hell, if someone brought out a game of monopoly, he will lose it. ) 

It took around 10 seconds from the moment his brother stepped into The Howling House for that information to reach his ears, and the only reason the kid didn't get his ass handed to him was because Duke said to lay off. He said to lay off of all of the Rebels, Rebels that decided to show up. He would deal with it. It was his job. Well, it wasn't just his job.

But it was his job to deal with his younger brother, and make sure he didn't get too badly hurt. The last thing Duke needed right now was their mom to be on his ass.

So, he was quick enough -- even with his knee and his cane -- to make through the crowed of the party, ignoring those that called out to him, and grabbing Russ by the collar as he walked past. People parted for that when they noticed, and he tossed the younger man into a smaller room. "Everyone get the fuck out," Duke ordered the group that had accumulated in there, and when they slowly filtered out of the room he turned to his brother.

"So, what dumbass reason did you have to think showing up here was gonna be a good idea?"

[dukejohnsons-blog]

leoichijo:

When was his last birthday? The man has to think about it because for some unknown possible reason to him, he is tired. Did he skip twenty birthdays and suddenly he was almost seventy years old? God, his wife was going to be so disappointed in him he didn’t remarry. He’s going to die alone. Then he heard a crow-eater screech with tequila in her brain and my god, Leo’s hearing worked! Maybe he wasn’t so old. However, he was sitting at a bench closest to the wall and corner where he was almost hiding if you didn’t know any better. He was watching, taking the role of security even if it wasn’t assigned to him. 

Admittedly, Leo was also wondering if it would take him long to teach himself to sleep with his eyes open. First lesson of a Desert Wolves party: do not fall asleep in a vulnerable position. You only make that mistake once.

It wasn't hard to spot the actual members of his club among the rest of the rabble. Most were fairly on edge considering the events that had just happened. They kept up a strong front. But anything could happen. Who said someone wasn't going to come finish the job they had tried to start?

Duke couldn't have been the only one thinking that? And this was beyond the typical people getting wasted and starting a fight or two. Those were completely welcome. But the last thing that needed to happen to his club was someone attacking his clubhouse. So people were watching. HE was watching.

He wandered through the room half acknowledging the greetings that were tossed his way before taking a seat next to Leo. “Hey.” He gave a small nod towards the man, and his face quirked into a small slightly amused smile. "How are things looking?"

[dukejohnsons-blog]

Duke wasn't the most terribly social man in the world, he was going to be honest. He was more introverted. He talked to his friends, he talked to the people he liked. He was a good damn time when he wanted to be. But parties generally weren't his thing. He could pretend they were for the club, however. They wanted to make his position as President offical. They wanted the people to welcome him.

He could do that.

He could do that even as he sat in a small back room with some whiskey and a few closer people. A calmer party inside the other not so calm party outside of the room. Every once in a while -- like now -- he stood up and headed out of the back room to be greeted by a wave of people, which did bring a small smile to his face.

"Yeah, no, sorry. A speech isn't fuckin' happening," he laughed and made his way over to the bar to get another glass of whiskey. "Talk to my VP! That's their job."

[sikanapanele-deactivated2018121]

[dukejohnsons-blog]

deputymalave:

Three dead, five wounded and still no answers on what had really gone down that day. The dead couldn’t speak, so it was up to latter five to cough up the facts. Only they needed more than a little nudging in order to do so, and while the police force had kept their distance long enough to respect the family’s time of mourning, the allowance for sympathy was beginning to run out. Too many eyes were on Duke Johnson, the injured but newly-elected president of the Desert Wolves. Those eyes included her own, as Bea strolled towards the man, trying to keep her posture from growing too rigid or her expression too apprehensive under his unflappable gaze. Arthur was waiting for news and in case of back-up, just outside of the establishment.

“Mr. Johnson, my name is Beatriz Malavé - I’m with the Police. Is this a good time?”

"No, it's not a good time, Deputy. But I'm not going to stop you," he said and tilted his head towards the empty spot on the bench next to him.

Duke hated the police. That would likely be unsurprising to everyone, but he'd been in and out of trouble with the law since he was young. Years and years before he joined the club. Drinking, drugs, skipping class, vandalism, fighting, public nudity, you name it any petty infringement a teenager could get into he was caught doing it. His act hadn't been cleaned up since then, though the crimes he committed were better left hidden. But the MC wasn't a secret, and neither was his involved.

Either way he knew how to talk to the police when he needed to. "So, what can I help one of Jericho's finest with today? I'm sure I talked to a number of you while I was still in the hospital..."

[dukejohnsons-blog]

miafalcone:

Mia had a bike, they all had, but for most of her errands, she preferred to get around by walking, when she could. The woman had the fierce sense of belonging with the wolves, they were part of her extended family, having grown up around so many of them, but she wasn’t one of them exactly. She had the ride or die mentally, minus the actual riding part.

The weather had been nice and she had decided to take a stroll around town, something she hadn’t really done lately. She felt some deep sense of unease, as if she had to watch her every move, but Jericho was their town and no one would chase them out. And so she had gone out and taking this small symbolic walk, at least to her.

She had seen Duke from a distance, it was hard not to, with the way he was walking and the cane her was sporting. They had been in contact since the shooting, she had come to visit him a few times, including during his hospital stay, It was Duke and he was family. A smile appeared on her lips, only to half vanish when she noticed how tense he seemed to be. Of course he would.

Slowly, she approached him. “Hey there stranger. Nice weather for a stroll with some badass cane.”

He raised a hand as Mia approached, and flashed a small smirk when she commented on the cane.

"It is pretty badass, isn't it. My mom got it for me -- of course." His mom had gotten even more dotting in her old age. Especially after his dad died. To her kids, and he could guess to the Falcone's as well. Even outside of the Motorcycle Club ties, with how close Al, and Roberto had been they were pretty much a giant family.

He nodded towards the seat next to him on the bench, and watched the oldest Falcone intently. "Have you got everything sorted out? I know hospital bills, and funeral costs can be tough..." Maybe it was a bit straightforward, but Duke had never been one to dance around a topic. Besides, he knew how draining it was when people kept asking 'how are you doing?' when they likely knew the answer.

Mia's dad was dead. That was a fact. He was there when it happened, there was no getting around it. He was hurt. He'd loved Roberto like his own father, sometimes more than his own father. But he was Mia's dad, and they had already lost their mother years ago. Duke had loved her too, and known her longer than most of the Falcone children had. That was unfair.

"I already told Marco, but if you guys need help with any of this the Club can deal with things for you. It’s the least we can all really do."

[notgoodatnames]

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[dukejohnsons-blog]

Part of his physical therapy for his knee was to get out there and use it. Great. Duke could do that, and he actually thought the cane his mom got him with the wolfs head carved in the handle was damn badass anyway. Might as well show it off. Jericho might not be the safest place at the moment - not for him anyway - but generally it was a nice little town. The sun was out. It wasn't hot enough to make him wearing his colors completely out of the question.

He didn't mind the getting out and using his knee part of this healing bullshit. But he had to do it all. He had to get better so he could get back on  his bike and actually be the President the Desert Wolves needed at the moment.

Duke let out a small huff of air, walking up to a bench outside a small corner store and took a seat. He wasn't certain he COULD be the president the Desert Wolves needed at the moment, but fake it till you make it as they say. There were many things that needed to be done, most important was to bring down the fucks that had caused this mess in the first place. But for now ... he was alright with making sure his knee healed enough.

There was one reason they were all in the club to start off with, and that was the bikes. He needed that part back. Duke leaned his head back against the brick wall of the shop, though he kept his guard up. He'd just been in a shooting. There was no way his eyes left the person who was currently making their way over to him at that moment.

[kiwikiwiandkiwi]

[rwgnbrogr-deactivated20231010]

FACTS

Name: Duke Johnson Faceclaim: Nikolaj Coster Waldau Gender: Male Age: 46 Occupation: MC President/Member Affiliation: Desert Wolves Rank & Length of time with MC: President of the Desert Wolves & 20 years

+ Hard Working, Observant, Understanding - Controlling, Belligerent, Tired  

ABOUT

Triggers: Drugs & Death

Duke’s birth, along with his future siblings, was a driving factor in a lot of things in Al Johnson’s life, the move to a smaller town, the interest in making that town safer, the formation of the Desert Wolves. His children were a large reason why all of it happened. Perhaps that makes it fitting that Duke is where he is now despite the rocky relationship between him and his father for all those years Al Johnson was alive.

Duke was about four during the formation of the Desert Wolves, and while his parents did all they could to shield their children from the violence of the life, and other unsavory elements it often bled through. Duke was always a trouble maker, getting into drugs, drinking, and ditching school. On top of this Al Johnson clearly had a distaste for his son’s sexual preferences which he found out when he walked in on Duke in his parents bed with another boy. He did that on purpose just to piss his dear old dad off, and it put a permanent wedge in their relationship after that moment.

It seemed like Duke’s sexuality was the least of his father’s problems, because as the boy grew older the more, and more he grew dependent on drugs and alcohol. He was around it often enough, especially after high school when he started hanging around the MC more and more. His mother insisted that if he were to ever become a member of the Desert Wolves Al would have to make sure he was clean first. So, Al saw to it personally that his son got off the drugs cold turkey and helped Duke through his withdraw.

Duke did manage to become a fully patched member of the Desert Wolves, working his way up through the ranks to become SGT at Arms for years – dealing mostly with the arms dealings rather than the drugs as per his father’s insistence. As the years went on things seemed to be going well, even his relationship with his father become less antagonistic as the older man became more accepting of Duke’s personal preferences.

Unfortunately, Al Johnson died before things between them could be mended all the way, and while he was grieving, Duke was promoted from SGT at Arms to Vice President to fill the newly missing role, and to help out Roberto Falcone – a man who had always been like a second father to him. Duke has become a bit more relentless in the way he does things, having to have very tight control over everything he does, in fear of slipping back to old habits now that his father isn’t around to watch out for him.

It has been this way for eight years, and now Roberto was murdered, along with a number of others being killed, or injured – himself included among the injured. With a nearly destroyed left knee Duke has been out recuperating. Despite his injury he decided to step into the President’s seat when it was asked of him. It seemed the best choice for the Club. However now he has this impending war brewing in Jericho to deal with. He’d be lying if he said those drugs the hospital started giving him that he has been refusing weren’t looking more and more appealing by the day.

[lingeringlikeguiltdoes]

Nikolaj Coster-Waldau photographed by Ben Watts for Men’s Fitness US June 2015