#Blind Boys of Mississippi

[krispyweiss]

Gospel Musician, Former Blind Boy of Alabama Sam Butler Has Died

- “He was also our dear friend,” the Blind Boys say of their one-time guitarist

Gospel musician Sam Butler, who played guitar with the Blind Boys of Alabama and Clarence Fountain’s solo group, has died, the Blind Boys said in a statement.

“(Butler) was a lifer of gospel and gospel quartets,” the band said. “He was also our dear friend. We want to extend our condolences to his family and all of his fans.”

Butler had been suffering from health issues. His age and date of death were not immediately available. His funeral is scheduled for Jan. 6, 2024.

Butler was exposed to gospel music at age 4 when his father, guitarist Sam Butler Sr., took his son on the road with the Blind Boys of Mississippi. The younger Butler eventually linked up with Fountain and the Blind Boys of Alabama, playing an “instrumental” role in getting that band into the musical “Gospel at Colonus,” which expanded BBA’s popularity after decades of relative obscurity.

In addition to his guitar playing, Butler was “probably the greatest singer I’ve ever had the privilege to sing with and play music,” folk singer Eliza Gilkyson said in a statement.

Butler appears on Keith Richards’ Talk is Cheap LP, has recorded with Donald Fagen and released his solo debut, Raise Your Hands!, in 2015.

“Such a great man,” Revival Music Co. said of Butler.

“He will be sorely missed by all. His smile, his laugh, his sense of humor and his immaculate voice will never be forgotten.”

12/24/23

[peninsularian]

Heavenly Gospel, 1961

[positivebeatdigest]

The Original Five Blind Boys Of Mississippi - Thank God For Mama

[precious-little-scoundrel]

idk why but the concept idea of John Brady having a massively stupid crush on one of Ida Brady’s subordinates/girls is hilarious to me

like he’s out here fighting for his life bc his sister is terrifying enough and he’s trying to be all casual “don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious” as he’s attempting to be subtle about said crush 😂

Pray for this poor boy, he’s going through it. Don’t mistake him, he was always a rule abiding and rank observing fella, but he’s a man and he’s not blind and some of these girls make him feel like up is down and down is up and he could keep that all shoved away far easier back before he was sharing bunks with them!!! It was easier back when they were beat up -god forgive him- and he could tend to them with soup and needles and not have to fend off flirts and soft eyes. He’s quite glad his sister is alive and well but fuck -did she have to be so near him all the time?? Bucky is sympathetic, he’s out here trying to help his adopted baby bro have some breathing room but the shadow of Ida is long. And Maureen Kendeigh is bored.

Spring, 1944

here, have a blurb 🤭

Candy -as in Kendeigh?

“Candy?” he repeated her nickname.

“Yes, a play on Kendeigh.” Maureen confirmed, patiently waiting for a semblance of understanding to appear behind Captain Brady’s eyes.

“So not like -Candy.”

Maureen held her breath and counted three Mississippi’s before replying in a strained voice, “Only as in Kendeigh sounding like Candy.”

“So it’s got nothin’ to do with Candy.” he asked once more, seemingly in dire need of confirmation one last time.

“Kendeigh.” Maureen enunciated, she’d had about enough and if she didn’t owe him her life she’d be up and off this front step and doing something productive like picking at the wooden walls of their shack or making a mud pie.

“Kendeigh,” he repeated, “nothin’ to with, with-“

“With what?” she dared him, fully intending to actually punch him if he used the wordy Candy once more in that bewildered way.

“-I dunno…pop sickles?”

“Pop sickles?” She repeated loudly, utterly lost, “What the -no! John Egan just played off my name- Kendeigh/Candy! For God’s sake, Johnny, you can’t be this dull you’re a pilot.”

“Ok, ok, sorry.” he had a defensive hunch to his shoulders, “Egan just always sorta…Kendeigh/Candy, ok, ok, got it.”

Maureen stared out ahead at the piddling occupation of the winter camp as an awful thought began to form. “He always what, Captain?” she snapped and the rush of blood to the young man’s cheeks confirmed her track of questioning. “What did John Egan always say about me and popsicles?”

John Brady knew her well enough, knew she knew him well enough, he knew his own face well enough to know his chances of fibbing were zero. He had the gentlemanliness to meet her eyes before reciting with a pained precision that crumpled his whole face, “That you could…eat…them…whole.” he closed his eyes as if in pain before explaining with devastating honesty: “-So, we all thought…Candy.”

Maureen’s mouth folded into a thin line and she knew well enough to divert her piercing glare at the combine right past John Brady’s shoulder and not at the poor defenseless messenger himself.

“I show that sunnuvabitch a party trick once…!” Maureen seethed, “You know I used that talent to help Hambone siphon the gas for you in Idaho, right?”

“You siphoned it for me?” Johnny’s eyes grew wide in touched comprehension of a long expired favor.

Maureen was too preoccupied with rage to appreciate his gratitude. Popsicles. Swallow them whole -Oh!- how she wished that dart had taken Bucky’s eye out. Oh!-how she was going to do more than punch John Egan.

“Sorry, sorry Maureen.” Johnny muttered again, almost more to himself than asking for her absolution as the minutes ticked by and she kept fuming beside him on the step.

Until Maureen could think of a way to make Egan suffer, she could find ways to amuse herself. Camp was boring after all, and it wasn’t every day one got John Brady verbally against the ropes. She smoothed her face a little and turned to him almost pleasantly, not enough to spook, just enough to send a small blanching look of dread across his face.

“What?” he asked after the suspense got to him.

“Oh nothin’.” Maureen smiled, shrugging her shoulders and drawing lines in the dust with the toe of her boot. “Just wondering is all.”

“What?” he demanded more forcefully. “What’s that face for?”

“Just wondering. Wondering what’s your stake in it all -whether I can with a popsicle or not? What’s it to you, John Brady?”

He held her gaze for a disbelieving moment before letting out a little winded scoff, eyes rolling, shaking his head, utterly and merrily defeated. “Nothin’ -nothing at all, I’m just a nosy bastard.”

“Ah, well, that solves that.” She pointed out, taking pains to bump his shoulder companionably with her own, and got the gesture returned so heartily she was almost knocked off the steps if he hadn’t been quick to grab her. “It’s always the quiet ones.” She mused with a cruel glint in her eyes as she surveyed him, secure once again.

“Don’t make me shove you off again.” He warned, and she didn’t doubt he’d do it.

Oddly some part of her wanted him to. Instead she made peace by reaching over and taking his pipe from his mouth and puffing on it herself. He’d grown too used to this to waste breath balking about ladies and pipes and personal property. “So are you going to help me make him pay or are you really that much of a bastard?”

“The Brit’s in B Block call you Nike.” he informed her conversationally, seeming to think a little sermon on vengeance and its merits was opportune when trapped in a dog pen with one’s fellows.

Armed with recent awareness that John Brady had been intrigued by her popsicle throating capabilities, Maureen was having none of it. “Yes and they call you ‘Cunty,’ sweet John.” she informed him levelly before delivering her punchline, “And not a single American defended you.”

Brady processed this with an amiable mouth shrug of admittance before sighing deeply. “So what do you want this cunt to do for you?” He inquired, resigned even before Maureen’s smirk grew in triumph.

“Hmm, it’ll come to us.” she hedged, “For now let’s enjoy the sunset.” and with that they continued sat side by side, staring down the rows of shacks and their muddy lanes and the dismal forest beyond and the slate gray sky overhead and the whole damn place without a touch of color except for the pink in his cheeks.

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚘𝚕𝚖 (𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎?)

Summary: Bored me tries something different (because writer’s block is a bitch) during a bus ride.

Pairing: Blackpool Combat Club x Fem!Reader

Warnings: +18, adult content, semi-erotic content, harsh language, dub-con, mild psychological torture, yandere vibes.

Tags: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @adamjf , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @sunshinevirus , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl , @ripleyswhore

The youngest man was placed by the door as security, he couldn’t stop staring at her ever since the others bound her to the chair. His black hair and mischievous almond-shaped eyes gleamed underneath the blinding white lights.

She hadn’t slept in over 24 hours, adrenaline and the clarity in the room had successfully kicked sleep out of her system. She vaguely remembers the faces of two of the men, having bumped them a few times inside her father’s church, but the blonde one and the one by the door were still unfamiliar to her. She still didn’t know where she was, who these men were, and what they could possibly want with someone like her, but still, she found herself here. Somewhere at some place, with the four strangers, being held hostage for no apparent reason.

“I need to go to the bathroom”, she murmured. Red, tired eyes stared bluntly at the young man before her ears captured what sounded like a faint chuckle.

“Didn’t you just go like ten minutes ago?”

“Yes, but I need to go again”, she responded, shrinking herself in the chair when he took three steps forward.

He hovered over her, nose brushing against her perfumed hair, warm breath caressing the skin of her right temple. “What’s so interesting about that bathroom that you wanna go in there all the time, huh?” His hand pushed her hair behind her shoulder, rough fingertips brushing the skin of her neck and shoulder in the meantime. “Maybe I should go in with you to see what interesting things you’re up to”.

Her throat felt coarse and dry, and the many hours without water were beginning to affect her body. She subtly pulled herself away from the young man’s touch, the small action seemed to amuse him since his only response was to get closer to her again.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of the shy ones” He chuckled “You didn’t seem to have one single shy bone in your body when you snuck out of the church with Timmy boy”. The amused chuckle transformed into a full-out laugh as he spotted the disgusted look on her face.

“Tell me” He whispers in her ear “How far did you let Timmy boy go?” his hand grips her thigh, pushing it open until a voice echoes from behind them.

“Yuta! That’s enough” The blonde man stated, slowly walking into the room followed by the other two men. Yuta reluctantly stepped away from her and walked toward the blonde man who beckoned him closer. He whispered something in Yuta’s ear, and the young man just nodded and walked out of the room.

“I deeply apologize for this inconvenience” The blonde man pointed with his finger around the room “But dear old daddy didn’t leave us much of choice”. His eyes wrinkled as he smiled “I’m Bryan. And this is Mox and Claudio”, he pointed back and forth between the man beside him, “We promise you nothing bad will happen to you, as long as you behave and your father keeps his part of the deal, of course. But other than that, I promise you, we’re all gentlemen here”.

She tried to lick her lips in an attempt to moist the dry flesh as she spoke “Could I have some water, please?”

“Of course” The man who went by the name Claudio answered with a smirk. He grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-fridge by the door and opened it before placing it against her chapped lips.

They all stared at her with curiosity, like tourists on a safari. Both Mox and Claudio had a knowing smirk plastered on their lips as Bryan only stood there in silent mockery. Claudio squatted down beside her, pulling the water bottle away from her lips when she began to chug on it.

“Easy there” He whispered “We don’t want you to choke, at least not on water”

When she only answered a small, confused “What?”, Claudio laughed “You’re really cute, I wonder why it took us so long to do this”. He placed small pecks on her exposed shoulder, traveling up to her neck until he reached her cheek.

“Will you be our obedient little girl? Do everything we say with a pretty smile on your face” Claudio placed his chin on her shoulder, deep brown eyes staring directly at her soul “We know you want to” He grinned.

“We’re not like christian boy Timmy who doesn’t know what to do with his little dick” Mox tugged on her hair, pulling it down until she looked up at him. “We’re men, real men” His clear baby blue eyes roamed through her features “I know you’re supposed to keep that cherry intact for your honeymoon, but kitty cat, I’m not so sure that you’ll keep it though. You know why?”

She whined a “No” before she felt Claudio pressing his semi-hard bulge against her shoulder.

Mox took her hand in his as he began “Because unlike your dear old daddy, we love you”, he delicately placed her palm on top of his growing bulge, “See how much we love you?”

A boisterous laugh resonated from the wooden stairs, loud thumps made their way down to the small room until they stopped by the door. “Everything’s ready and the engine is running”. Yuta grinned like the Cheshire cat.

Bryan leaned over her and cut the ropes with a pocket knife. He caresses her hair, places a small peck on her lips, and whispers “Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

[glowinggator]

May I request Wes coming to the realization that he's caught feelings for his coworker/work partner?

A/N: Wow, I am SO sorry that this took so long to post! I'm so in love with what we've seen of Wes, and I was really digging to make sure that I portrayed him as I do in my head. I'd love to write more for him in the future, but in the meantime, I hope you enjoy!

Working under Asa Sweet has its benefits. Seemingly endless stores of money, eternal room and board, and most importantly, all the midnight lovers he could ever want. All at the price of a bit of bootlegged liquor, and the occasional firefight. 

This kind of life isn't for everyone, but it's certainly made for Wes. And you're inclined to agree with him. The adrenaline of a job well-done tastes even better than the liquor you're rewarded with at the end of the day -- maybe that's why the two of you get along so well. He can appreciate someone who can actually do their job, and do it well. No offense to Fish, of course, but it's nice to have someone… competent. And nice to look at, to boot. 

What? He's not blind -- He knows a pretty face when he sees one.  

If you weren't tangled in this life like he was, he might have tried to shoot his shot at a quick fling. But alas, working together complicates that And it's not exactly wise to play with someone when they've always got a loaded gun. He's not stupid, either. So, coworkers it is. Friends, if he's drunk enough to say it out loud.

The two of you are a deadly duo in the field. In the car it's all easy banter, a playful back-and-forth of teasing and sarcastic quips… but when you're truly working? Fish says it's scary how easily the two of you operate on the same wavelength, and you can't blame him. As a team you're able to coax deals and information from unsuspecting lips with ease; and on the rare occasion things go wrong… well, there's rarely any time to even worry. You've made it a game to see who can draw their weapon the fastest when shit hits the fan, and you're not very keen on losing.  And boy, does he like a challenge. 

Wes isn't a romantic. He thinks he is -- he thinks he's the suavest cat this side of the Mississippi. But he isn't. In truth, he is painfully inexperienced in the realm of romance, outside of one night stands. So when he's suddenly clenching his jaw whenever you pull that syrupy, borderline seductive voice on clients to get your way, of course he misattributes his feelings to lust. Because what else would it be? 

Except it doesn't get better, and no amount of liquor can soothe the tightness in his throat when he looks at you. 

No amount of bloodshed can quell his rapidly growing thoughts of domesticity. 

And there's not a single force on earth strong enough to pry the softness from his gaze. 

He hates that you're such a weak spot for him. He's always enjoyed being in your company, but now he finds himself hanging onto every word, every syllable, every breath. It's embarrassing.  

It's a bit of an awkward game of hot and cold while he tries to figure out what he wants. The most Wes really knows about romance is what he gleaned from when Fish drug him out to see Romeo and Juliet, and Lord knows how that panned out. You know him well enough to let him sort through… whatever it is he's going through. 

(You do pick up on the fact that there's a bit more intent when he smacks Fish for the "weasel" comments, though. Fish's poorly hidden laughter doesn't escape your ears either.)

But as time goes on, he settles back into his normal routine with you. Maybe his words get a bit more honeyed. Maybe he gets a bit more sarcastic, so he can feel you swat at him. Maybe he starts winning your quick draw games more often, and maybe he's formed a habit of stepping in front of you when things go south. You can't know for sure -- he dodges every attempt at questioning. 

If he shows up at your doorstep someday, with roses from your front yard… just know that he's trying. 

[xhannahbananax03]

Play House Part 1

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader, Negan x Reader?

MASTERLIST

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: Some angst

A/N: This is loosely based on S6E16 of TWD

The cold, damp dirt dug into her legs as bright lights blinded her from the group surrounding hers. The rips in her constantly worn jeans allowed bits of gravel to scrape at her skin.

She looked around her at her family, a man screaming at her when one of her hands slid into her jacket to rest on her bump as she stared out nervously at Daryl who's eyes were flicking back and forth between her and a man stood not far from him, "Hands where I can see 'em!".

She shakily pulled her hand away from her hidden stomach as she replaced it on her thigh. She wasn't entirely sure what was going on. She knew that there was some kind of conflict going on with another group, but Daryl told her that everything was fine, she just needed to stay out of it and focus on keeping herself and the baby safe. Which she surprisingly agreed with.

Then, suddenly, she was helping rush a sickly looking Maggie into the camper and sitting with her on the bed in the back, patting her forehead with a damp rag, telling her that everything would be ok.

She looked over at Eugene, he's face was bloody and battered and she knew that something was immediately up with him. Something about this whole thing was off.

"Now that we've got the whole gang!" The man who seemed to be second in command clapped his hands together, looking over her group, "Let's meet the man," He grinned before knocking on the door of a camper that was situated in front of everyone, blocking their path.

It only took a moment before a man walked out and waited in the dark, just beyond her sight, but she could immediately tell he was a larger man. She wrapped her arm around Maggie's, doing her best to hold the poor woman up as her legs shook beneath her, "Pissing our pants yet?" The man then walked towards the group and into the light, allowing everyone to finally put a face to the man who had been terrorizing anyone alive this side of the Mississippi.

"Boy, do I have a feeling we're gettin' close," He nodded, looking over each of them, licking his lips with a wolfish smile. His gaze slowed on her for moment longer, smirking, before he continued on with his 'bad guy speech', "Yep... It's gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon," He smiled wider.

A bat, wrapped in bobbed wire, was balanced on his leather clad shoulder as he paced back and forth in front of the group. His eyes always connected to someone else's, "Which one of you pricks is the leader?" His smile dropped a little as a man spoke up behind the group, pointing to Rick.

The man in charge, moved to stand directly in front of Rick, looking down over him, "Hi. You're Rick right? I'm Negan," He finally introduced himself, "And I do not appreciate you killing my men," Somehow, even with his smile completely gone, his dimples pressed firm into his cheeks giving him an erie sense of innocence.

"Also, when I sent my people to kill your people, for killing my people... You killed more of my people. Not cool," He said smoothly, shaking his head like a disapproving parent, "Not cool. You have no idea how not cool that shit is," Negan continued to speak to Rick in a soft tone, which freaked Y/n out more than it would if the man was just out front violent.

"But I think you're gonna be up to speed shortly," He said in a menacing tone as Rick finally looked up at him. The entire time that Y/n had known Rick, she had never seen him as scared as he looked in this moment and it only made her anxiety worse.

She looked back over to Daryl, waiting for him to look at her, and when he finally did she uttered the words, "I love you," to him, having a gut feeling that something really bad was about to happen.

"What was that, sweetheart?" Negan asked Y/n, squatting down in front of her, "Got somethin' you'd like to say?" He grabbed her face and at that moment Daryl lunged at him, grabbing onto his shoulders and throwing him back onto his ass, but before Daryl had the chance to do anything further, he was being pulled back by two large men, one pulled out a gun and pointed it at his head.

"No!" She screamed out, letting go of Maggie and going to stand to rush forward but Rick grabbed onto her wrist and pulled her back down, shaking his head at her.

Negan looked between the couple, rubbing at his face before he stood with a shake of his head, "Put him back in the truck," He told the men holding him to drag a fighting Daryl away, "And don't kill him, got special plans for that asshole," The leader chuckled, watching them drag away the fearless man.

Negan's words simultaneously calmed and stressed Y/n out, "So is that your man or somethin?" He asked her, standing back to his full height and staring down at her, "He's a fighter, I'll give him that. But he will be payin' for that one sweetheart," He winked at her, sending chills down her spine.

"So here's how this is gonna go," Negan continued, looking over everyone, "Y'all give me your shit... Or I will kill you," He said in a serious tone and she knew that in this world, that was a very real threat. "Today was career day," He said with a big, toothy grin, "We invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do," He began his slow pacing once more, "You work for me now," He said, pointing his bat out at Rick, "You have shit, you give it to me. That's your job," He said looking straight at Rick.

"Now... I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow," He said, sounding almost empathetic, "But swallow it, you most certainly will," He told the group firmly, his eyes scanning each one of them to be sure he was being heard before going back to stand in front of Rick, "You ruled the roost. You built something. You thought you were safe," She could hear the humor in his tone and scowled deeply while watching the truck that held Daryl, "But you're not. Not even close. In fact you are pegged. More pegged if you don't do what I want and what I want, is half your shit. And if that's too much, you can make, find or steal more, and it'll even out sooner or later," He confirmed, turning and moving out towards the center of the group.

"This," He spread his arms out, "Is your way of life now," That's when Y/n started to block him out. Thinking of anyway she could get back to Daryl before Negan came to stand in front of Maggie, drawing her attention to them.

"Jesus," He huffed out, looking over Maggie with a look of disgust, "You look horrible... I should just put you out of your misery right now," He nodded raising his bat above his head as Maggie stared up at him, mustering a brave face as Y/n's eyes grew wide.

"No! No!" Glenn yelled out, hopping up and pulling a hidden knife from his boot, running at Negan before a man tackled him to the ground and started landing blows to his face.

"Stop it!" Maggie cried out weakly, falling forward and reaching for Glenn as tears ran down her face. His eyes quickly becoming swollen and purple as blood poured out of him, "Please!" She cried out, Y/n and Abraham holding onto her as best they could.

"Nope," Negan shook his head, an angered expression taking over his face, "Nope, get him back in line. The man beating Glenn stood off of him and dragging him back to his spot, Glenn mumbling out incoherently as he looked for Maggie who was sobbing as she reached out for him.

Y/n could faintly make out begging, "Don't... Please don't..." As he was being held up by a man before he was dropped back into the dirt.

Negan just chuckled and shook his head, "Alright listen. I'm pretty much over gettin' attacked tonight so... The next one of ya to try is gonna get Lucille to the head," Lucille? Did he name his bat? "Sucks, don't it? The moment you realize you don't know shit," He said, looking right at Rick who's head was hanging low. At this point everyone had tears streaming down their faces.

Negan looked between Rick and Carl for a moment before a smile took over his face and he pointed his bat at the younger man, "This is your kid right? This is definitely your kid," He chuckled, using the tip of his bat to lift the edge of Carl's hat.

"Just stop this!" Rick screamed out, finding some kind of courage when Negan began to mess with his son.

"Hey!" Negan hollered back, whipping around to look at Rick, "Don't make me kill the little future serial killer," He frowned, his bat staying pointed at Carl and Rick immediately shut up, "Don't make it easy on me," Negan grinned once again, dropping his bat once he saw Rick backing down, "I gotta pick somebody. Everybody's at the table waitin' for me to order," He threw his bat back onto his shoulder and went back to pacing and staring everyone down, whistling a tune that Y/n swore she was familiar with.

"I simply cannot decide," He shook his head, stopping in the middle of the group once more, "I got an idea," He chuckled, a devilish smile covering his face.

"Eenie... Meenie..." Y/n knew then what he was doing as he hovered his bat above each person's head, "Ya know what..." He paused, biting into his lip as his bat hovered over her head, "This just don't feel right without the whole gang," He grinned and Y/n's face paled, "Bring the big man back out,"

"No, no please," Y/n pleaded reaching out to grab onto Negan's pant leg and he raised his hand to stop his man from grabbing Daryl, "Please. You can't kill him," Y/n knew she'd never make it in this world without him, and therefore neither would their baby.

"And why not?" He humored her, finding her desperation appealing, "You're seriously gonna try and tell me what to do?" He chuckled out, looking at a few of the men behind the group that chuckled along.

"I'm pregnant," She told him, pulling back her jacket to expose her round stomach, hoping that somehow it would appeal to his human side. If he even had one, "Daryl's the father. I-We need him," She pleaded, praying that it would work in her favor.

"You gotta be shittin' me," Negan grinned rubbing at his chin before kneeling in front of her, "How far along?".

"I'm due in about a month," She told him honestly.

He grinned wider before grabbing her arm and lifting her from her knees as he stood, receiving a worried look from the rest of the group, "Forget Daryl, load her up, take her home and make sure she has everything she needs," Negan told the second in command, passing her off as Rick watched the interaction closely, his heart pounding.

Y/n looked over her shoulders, tripping over her feet as she tried to catch a final glimpse of what was going on before she was put in a large truck and the door was slammed on her face.

Another man hopped in silently and started the truck as Y/n stared out the sideview mirror at her group, "Where are you taking me?" She asked nervously once her family was out of sight.

She received no response, "Please tell me where you're taking me," She tried again, but to no avail.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. She desperately tried to stay awake, hoping she could at some point escape and find her way back home, but unfortunately she found herself drifting off, and when she opened her eyes she was in a dim room on a large bed.

She looked around, frightened, "Hello?" She called out, wondering if anyone else was with her but she never got an answer so she assumed she was alone.

Creeping out of the bed, she immediately went for the door, but when she tried to open it, it was locked. She turned and went for the window instead but noticed that there was metal bars trapping her in.

She began to pound on the door, screaming for help, for someone to let her out or at least tell her what was going on, but she only got someone pounding back and telling her to shut the hell up.

She sat back on the bed, looking at her hands as she thought of what to do when her stomach growled. She hadn't eaten since yesterday and it was only a small meal of an apple and a piece of toast. She looked at the nightstand next to her bed and licked her lips, seeing a plate of breakfast sat their for her.

Eggs, toast, and something she hadn't seen in a very long time, bacon. Her mouth watered, but she refrained, her fear of being poisoned to strong.

She looked behind her and noticed another door. How had she not noticed this before? Quickly standing, she moved over to it and swung it open. To her disappointment, it opened up to a bathroom, she sighed and moved into the room, knowing that it had been a good few hours since she had gone to the bathroom so hopefully their plumbing worked.

Finishing up, she moved to the sink in the room, turning on the water and looking at herself on the mirror. She was a mess. Dirty, tear streaks on her face, mousy hair, clothes covered in dirt and blood.

She washed her hands and moved back into the main room, going to the dresser, hoping that there was at least some clean clothes waiting there for her. To her surprise, their were some clean shirts and a few pairs of women's underwear along with some boxers.

So grabbed and shirt and a pair of boxer shorts before moving back to the bathroom and locking herself in. After a long, hot shower, she felt slightly better. At least she wasn't dirty anymore.

She dried off and dressed in the clothes that were offered to her before walking back into the main room, "Damn you look good all cleaned up," A deep voice spoke making her jump as she looked to the owner who was sat on the couch in the room.

"Negan..." She growled out, "Where the hell are we?" She demanded, keeping her distance from him.

"We're at the Sanctuary," He chuckled with a smile, gesturing around, "Obviously,".

"The Sanctuary?" She asked, having no clue what that even was, "Where's Daryl?" She immediately asked, knowing Negan had plans to bring him here aswell.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart. He's safe, promise," He smiled and she for some reason, didn't believe him at all, "You however... I have a job for you," He told her, standing and moving closer, making her take a step back.

"Easy gorgeous," He put a hand out towards her, his other hand reaching for the door, "I will be right back. You just wait here," He told her before leaving the room and stepping out into the hallway and out of her sight.

Y/n quickly pulled her dirty pants back on, looking for a weapon or anything she could use to attack Negan once he reentered, but she had no time as he stepped back into the room, his back to her.

With Y/n backed up against the window, her eyes wide and confused Negan tucked the small bundle closer to himself, staying wary of how she might react. She had been through a lot today and after the show he had put on earlier, he was sure that she was freaked out.

Nonetheless, he turned away and saw her expression soften slightly when she saw what was is in his arms, "What's that..?" She mumbled out quietly, keeping her distance from him but he could see the curiosity in her eyes and it made him smile.

"This," Negan pulled back the edge of the blanket to reveal the sleeping face of a baby, "Is your new job," He explained, moving closer to her to hand off the baby to her carefully.

She quickly took the baby, not wanting to refuse it and leave it in Negan's arms to do whatever he pleased with it, "Her name is Amy and you will be taking care of her from now on," Negan told her, taking a step back to give them their space as he watched Y/n look over the baby closely.

"Where's her mother?" Y/n immediately asked, hoping this wasn't some kind of sick plot just to trap her here. She didn't know Negan, but he definitely seemed like the kind of man to steal a baby.

"Well, she didn't make it," Negan said solemnly, taking a seat on the couch and watching Y/n hold the practically newborn baby in her arms, "She was a friend of mine and she didn't survive the birth," He explained in honesty.

Y/n stared out at him for a moment, "Isn't there another woman here that can take care of her?" She asked him confused, surely he hadn't kidnapped her just so she could babysit, "What about the father?".

"When the mother showed up here she was already pregnant. No sign of dad," Negan told her, which was also the truth, he saw no point in lying to the woman considering she wasn't going to be leaving anytime soon regardless of the baby.

He stepped out into the hallway for a moment before coming back into the room with a baby bag and tossing it on the bed next to Y/n, "That is all the formula we have. Should last about a month," He told her, hoping she'd catch onto what that meant but she simply raised an eyebrow at him and he sighed deeply, "When that runs out we're gonna need something to feed Amy with,".

Y/n's eyes widened when she caught onto what he meant by that and she scoffed, "So I'm supposed to be some kind of cow?" She asked and Negan chuckled slightly but she didn't find it funny at all, staring out at the leader with a nasty glare.

"No, sweetheart, you're supposed to be some kind of mother," He told her, "Listen, I won't force you to do this or stay here. But I'm not gonna help you leave either," He told her honestly and he knew that she'd never be able to get out of this place without his help.

Y/n thought for a long moment, looking over Amy. She knew that she'd never be able to turn away a child in need, but she needed to know her options, "And if I don't take her?" She asked, looking back up at Negan.

"Well you have two options," Negan nodded, grabbing his bat which made her incredibly nervous, "One; you become a Savior and work for your place here like everyone else. Or... Two; you become one of my wives and live a life of luxury, sharing a room with the rest of my wives," Negan grinned at her at the mention of her second option, not entirely hating the idea of it.

Y/n scowled in disgust before looking back at Amy and she knew what she was going to choose, "I'll take care of Amy," She told Negan, not looking over at him and he stood and clapped his hands together, "On a few conditions," She flicked her eyes up to his finally and he looked at her with a quirked brow, "Amy and I get our own room, you tell me where Daryl is and you leave Rick and everyone else alone,".

Negan nodded his head for a moment while sucking on his cheeks, "Well the first two I have no problem doin' for ya," He smiled at her, "But the third one? No can do. Rick and that group are a good alliance. It's a contractual agreement," He explained to her watching her face contort into anger for a moment before she looked away from him.

Negan could tell looking at her that she had no part in anything that went on last night and he hated that she had to bare witness to it. She was just a young woman who had gotten wrapped up with the wrong group. Negan would've loved to have found her before Rick did, but oh well. He has her now.

"Anyways," Negan announced, letting her take in his words, "I'm off to go get all your shit rounded up," He told her, grabbing his jacket in his free hand as she watched him carefully, "You wait here and I'll be back in no time," He promised before heading out of the room and locking the door behind him.

Y/n let out a long uneven breath that she had been holding for quite some time as she looked down at the fussing bundle in her arms, she stood and tried to shush Amy but to no avail.

She laid her down and checked her diaper, seeing it was clean as the newborn began to scream her head off. Making sure Amy was secure on the bed, she dug through the baby bag, grabbing out a bottle and a can of formula, dumping some of the powder into the bottle before pouring in some warm water from the sink in the bathroom because there was no microwave in the room.

Y/n tested it on her wrist and when she deemed it a good temperature, she scooped up Amy in her arms and bounced her gently, resting the nipple of the bottle on her lips, waiting for her to latch on and once she did, her whining came to a slow stop before her eyes fluttered shut and she nursed away, "What am I gonna do?" Y/n wondered aloud, sitting down on the couch with the small baby in her arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was several hours before Negan stepped back into the room, seeing Y/n laying back on the couch, Amy fast asleep on her chest and he smiled at the sight, "Everything's ready for ya," He told her and watched her slowly stand up so she didn't disturb the sleeping baby, "You could still stay in here with me, ya know?" Negan spoke up, watching her grab the baby bag and her eyes shot to his with a dark glare.

He wasn't sure what it was but he was definitely drawn to Y/n, she somehow reminded him of his Lucille. Plus he had always wanted a baby and with her, he could have two, "Go to hell," She hissed at him, moving past him towards the door and he scowled deeply before turing around and opening the door roughly, placing a hand on her back and gently shoving her out of his room.

"Simon," Negan called out to the man, standing next to his door, grabbing his full attention, "Take Y/n and Amy to their room," Negan demanded and when Simon's eyes fell on her, she felt and awful shiver run up her spine, something was seriously off with that guy and she nearly found herself asking Negan to take her instead, but before she could say anything, the leader was off in another direction and Simon was smiling down at her.

"Follow me," He said before walking past her and down a long corridor with doors covering each side of the hall. "You seem to have caught the bosses attention," Simon threw over his shoulder at her as she looked around, thinking about making a run for it, but then she noticed the pistol strapped to Simon's hip.

"I'm a good resource," Y/n shrugged quietly, adjusted Amy in her arms as she studied all the sounds coming for the rooms that she could make out, hoping that maybe she'd hear Daryl.

Simon scoffed as he stopped in front of a door, pulling a piece of wire with keys on it from his pocket, "Yeah right," He said as he unlocked the door and opened it, standing beside it as he waited for her to step inside and she did while keeping a close eye on the strange man.

"That door there is the bathroom," He pointed to the only other door in the room before moving towards the fridge that was there, "And Negan put this and a microwave in here so you can keep whatever you need close by. That dresser has some clothes for you and the baby in it and the closet has extra towels and blankets," He finished as he stared at her with expectant eyes, yet all she did was stare back for a long moment, waiting for him to leave.

Finally he huffed and rolled his eyes, making his way to the door before mumbling under his breath, "Ungrateful bitch," And stepping out into the hallway, closing the door behind himself.

Y/n quickly stood and locked the door, knowing that he could easily come back in if he wanted to but it still gave her some kind of reassurance. She looked around and noticed the crib and rocking chair in the same place that the couch was in Negan's room. Walking over to the crib, she laid Amy down in it and looked at the desk nearby that had a box of diapers under it and a thing of wipes on top of it, a thin, pink blanket laying over the wood and she assumed it was a makeshift changing table.

Y/n quickly organized the contents of the baby bag into the desk before sitting down it the rocking chair, taking a deep breath before grabbing fistfuls of her hair and yanking on it, a few tears slipping down her face as she thought about the past 24 hours.

Everything had spiraled downwards so quickly and she found herself feeling ridiculously sick. She prayed that her family was ok, prayed that Daryl was ok. She missed him desperately. Since she had met up with the group back at the prison, she hadn't separated from Daryl. They became fast friends and she instantly trusted him because he had saved her. It didn't take long for their friendship to progress into something more.

Thinking about it made her give a teary eyed smile to herself. She looked over at Amy, trying to convince herself that this would somehow all be ok and that's when a knock came to her door, startling her.

She made her way over to it and slowly unlocked it and opened it, coming face to face with a man she'd never seen before and she quickly went to shut the door once again, "Wait!" He called out quietly, pushing back on the door to keep it open, "I just have a letter for you from, Daryl," He told her and she quickly stopped what she was doing to crack the door back open and look over the man.

He had longish, blonde hair and what seemed to be a giant burn mark over half his face. His hand reached out and a small piece of paper was held between his fingers, "If you want him to stay in one piece, I was never here," He told her ominously before handing her the note and swiftly walking away.

She watched him for a moment before looking at the paper in her hand and suddenly nothing mattered. She shut the door and locked it before moving to sit on the edge of the bed and open the messily folded paper.

'I love you. Im ok. I will find you. -Daryl'

Was all that was written there, but she knew it was his handwriting and tears sprung to her eyes as she reread it over and over again.

She knew Daryl was a man of his word and no matter how long it took, he would find her.

Tag List:

Team Daryl/Norman: @ynreaderlol

Team Jeffery/Negan/John: @naughtyneganjdm

[jenyifer]

The Trainee Ep 2 initial reaction

Slight disclaimer I did watch the episode 1/4 3/4 because YouTube is a cruel mistress and I’m dumb lmao. But I assume if anyone has seen my watching series you’d know I don’t really offer much of intellect anyways sooooo

Let’s get on to the photo review

Quick note here Ryan is a lot more relatable believable character to me in comparison to Chef Prem? I think it’s good writing and set in these scenes with Ryan at his dad’s shop really do a lot to establish who he is as a person. We can see his family circle is hard working and maybe isn’t the best with their feelings. We still see Ryan’s family does take care of each other in important ways and understands to some extent. Also very relatable to be a recent grad with no direction or going to university without passion because you know your family needs you. Idk I like Ryan. He’s not quirky for quirky sake. He’s believably broken in predictable ways.

Ugh couples are the worst. Also performative gestures like this are so stupid now you might say it’s comedy. However I’ve enjoyed a couple office romance interns edition and it’s ways sickening. Just like highschool sweethearts that kind of sweet where they are blind or trying to make others jealous because of their own inadequacies with themselves

I’ll say this it is good for new members of staff to learn to speak their mind quickly because if they don’t contribute you are missing out on new ideas and eyes. Also Jane/Off is so handsome my brain would definitely malfunction. A person in control who knows what he wants 🥵 sexy. Also Off’s irration just scratches a good itch in my brain makes me think of Sean 😩😩

A very important bonding activity converting the non nerds to the joys of Harry Potter and other pop culture. A dance as old as time. My older coworkers try to get everyone to watch their pop culture references too. It’s really an unspoken office life normality. I really wasn’t expecting so many references though. But I still love Harry Potter because idk I see the good parts of the story and adore it. Yes yes I can now see the racism and the transphobia (the dream of Malfoy’s cronies turning into girls) also preachiness about sexism when needed. But I also see the fandom that raised me. The various queer friends I met because of my love of the boy who lived. Something I won’t have had in Mississippi. The books that always comforted me since I was 6 years old quoting the first book. the theme parks that still take my breath away when I go to visit Universal Orlando on the weekends. The queer and loving people who work there and are all too happy to make a child’s dream come true or adult look in wonder at something they have missed. (Sorry for the tangent)

Oh no it’s Gun’s arguably greatest talent crying in character. I felt like I could feel the fear and panic building in Ryan to this point which… if you aren’t crying in the first several days at your big kid job because you feel like an imposter who can’t do shit and will never be trusted? I can’t relate to you. Hell I got a new job a couple months ago. For a month I cried most days when I got home because I felt so awful about my capabilities even though I’ve worked 7 years in my field. It’s normal. Also Jane being shocked by this is hilarious you aren’t telling me he hasn’t broken someone down into tears before.

Oh no here it is folks Jane just enjoying Ryan’s energy and believing in him for no reason. Gun’s tears are very potent and can melt any wall I’m surprised Jane isn’t pulling him in for hugs.

Jane trying his best to keep Ryan without directly forcing him to stay was masterful as a boss. As a Simp it could use work but it’s a start put the ball in Ryan’s court with hope. Jane wants Ryan to grow and experience life which is good as a boss.

Awwwwwwwwww happy gunnie/ryan he’s so tired and anxious now he’s found solace in Jane’s words nothing can bring him down. He’s precious someone put him in my pocket.

[emma-dennehy-presents]

Celebrating Black Queer Icons:

Willmer "Little Axe" Broadnax

Willmer "Little Axe" Broadnax was born December 28, 1916 in Houston, Texas to parents William Broadnax and Gussie Frazier. Broadnax was an American hard gospel quartet singer that gained widespread popularity during the Golden Age of Traditional Black Gospel (1940s/50s). He received the nickname Little Axe from his short stature and as a companion to his brother, William "Big Axe" Broadnax, a popular baritone. By the time of the 1930s census Broadnax was living with his mother, brother, step-father Augustus Flowers, and step-sister Amartha Broadnax*. Broadnax began his career in gospel during his teen years, alongside his brother William. In the 1930s the Broadnax brothers joined the St Paul Gospel Singers in Houston, TX. The Broadnax brothers would later move to Los Angeles and join the Southern Gospel Singers. The group did not tour, and only preformed on weekends. The Broadnax brothers eventually broke off and formed their own quartet, The Golden Echoes. At some point Broadnax's brother, William, left the group and moved to Atlanta, GA where he joined The Five Trumpets. Broadnax stayed on as the lead of this iteration of the Echoes until they disbanded in 1949, after Specialty Records label chief, Art Rupe, decided to drop the group. The Golden Echoes only made a single recording with the label. Pianist Willie Love would go on to say "Little Axe couldn't sing low, because he had a relatively high voice. It wasnt falsetto, it was naturally high. So somebody had to sing the bottom.". Broadnax and the baritone Paul Foster sometimes created the illusion of a multi-octave singer together. In 1950 Broadnax joined The Spirit of Memphis Quartet, recording for King Records, and appearing with them until at least 1952. He would go on to join The Fairfield Four, shortly after, and in the early 1960s served as one of Archie Brownlee's replacements in the Five Blind Boys of Mississippi. Broadnax lead another iteration of The Golden Echoes until 1965, releasing singles through Peacock Records. As gospel's popularity waned Broadnax decided to retire from touring. Broadnax continued to perform and record in some capacity, most notably recording with the Blind Boys in the 1970s and 80s. On May 23, 1992, in Philidelphia, PA, Broadnax was killed by his lover, Lavina Richardson. After witnessing Richardson in a vehicle with another man, Broadnax pursued the vehicle, bumping into it several times with his own. At some point both vehicles stopped and Broadnax pulled Richardson from her vehicle and threatened her with a knife. A bystander disarmed Broadnax, after which Richardson picked up the knife and stabbed him three times. Broadnax died several days later, on June 1st, 1992, as a result of the injuries. Richardson was later convicted of manslaughter. After Broadnax's death it was publicly discovered that he had been assigned female at birth, which created a notable stir in the gospel community. Many claimed "they always knew" but there is no evidence to support anyone other than Broadnax's brother and other close family knew.

*This post by @ubleproject (The Untitled Black Lesbian Elder Project), which served as a source for me and Broadnax's wiki article, speculates that its possible Amartha is the deadname of the singer we know as Willmer "Little Axe" Broadnax, and that Amartha may have assumed the older brother's name to preform. In which case, Broadnax was born in Louisiana in 1922 to Frazier and Flowers. In the 1930 census Amartha's entry was corrected by hand to list Amartha as a girl. The census taker had initially listed Amartha as a boy, suggesting Amartha may have been presenting as such, at the time. Amartha is also, interestingly listed as Amartha Broadnax, despite being listed as Frazier and Flowers' biological child. There are little to no records of Amartha's later life. I have two more planned, but not sure on the order I will be doing them. The last will probably be out in the beginning of March. After that I will be saving the rest of my list for October, when the US is having LGBT History Month, and the UK is having its Black History Month. I will start including cis icons as well, such as Bayard Rustin. As always corrections and suggestions are welcome and much desired.

[weirdestbooks]

Historical Oneshots (Chronological Order)

More historical oneshots are present in Countryhumans Hispanic Heritage Month

The Birth of an Empire: England was prepared to kill Wales by signing the acts disestablishing the Principality of Wales. Unfortunately, that plan backfired, and now England must deal with the consequences.

The Boy and the Charter: The Virginia character has just been signed. That has some effects on poor Roanoke.

Virginia, Jamestown, and Martial Law: The year is 1610. Jamestown has just been put under martial law. This action will have dangerous and invasive side effects on the two personifications that make up that land. And both of them are helpless to stop it.

Defenestrations: The Kingdom of Bohemia has a city called Prague. Apparently, it's good for throwing people out of windows.

The Dying Bay: Plymouth's land is about to become a part of Massachusetts Bay. He's made his peace with that, but Massachusetts Bay has not.

What's In A Name?: Even many years after Massachusetts Bay's death, Plymouth still refuses to take on his name. The birth of two new colonies begins to change that.

The New Father: Quebec (formerly known as Canada) has just become a British Colony. Now it is time he learns what that means.

The Silence That Falls When The War Ends: England was badly injured at Bunker Hill. So how did he handle it when he arrived home?

The 11th State: America was so happy that his children were now getting bodies of their own. New York is the most recent, although he has some things to say about it.

Flight Lessons: New York and Pennsylvania were both born with wings. Their first attempt at flying could have gone better.

The New Century: As the 1700s end and the 1800s begins, America reflects back on life and how he got to where he is.

A Little Brother's Guidance: Michigan is unable to see the inner world. A newborn Illinois decides to be his eyes.

The Time Spend In A Gilded Cage: During the War of 1812, Governor Hull surrendered the entire Territory of Michigan to the British. Michigan is forced to live with the British for two years until he is returned to the Americans at the Treaty of Ghent. This details his entire experience during that war and what he experienced.

Parental Rage: The system's POV of Ghent, when they get Michigan back.

An Unwilling Reunion: 1822 Annexation of the Dominican Republic

Remember the Alamo: The End of the Texas Revolution

Blinded: Ireland tried to warn Hawaii of what Britain was truly like. Now he’s paying the price.

The Discovery of a Kindred Spirit: The moment Choctaw decides to donate money to the Irish during the Famine.

Mistakes In Love: Illinois has just learned about the existence of Beaver Island. He's not happy about it.

Shot From the Sky: The Battle of Vicksburg was a huge Union victory. Unfortunately for the Union, Michigan was seriously injured and nearly killed by his sister, Mississippi, during the battle.

Peshtigo: The Peshtigo fire was a brutal fire that ravaged Wisconsin. Both the state and its personification. Luckily, Wisconsin's family is there to help her.

The Faceless People You Have Yet To Meet: When Hawaiʻi became a part of the United States, she expected many things. However, she did not expect everyone to be talking about people who didn't exist and act like she was in the wrong for being confused about who they were. AKA Hawaiʻi becomes a US Territory, and the states forget to tell her about America having DID.

Texas Gets a Concussion (and he totally deserved it): Texas is furious after hearing about how the new territory of Hawaii burned his brother, Alaska. So he decides to confront Hawaii about it himself. (A Rewrite of a Scene from Texas' POV from the book "Born of Fire" by @aloha-from-angel)

The Death of Unity: The Japanese Empire was about to annex the Korean Empire after years of breaking him down. Korea still refuses to give in.

Celtic Brothers: Ireland is newly independent and struggling with chronic pain and an injury that has left him disabled. Good thing Scotland is there to help.

We Should Know Who We Are: Finland has been looking forward to meeting the new country of Estonia.

The Identity of the State: Illinois is in deep, deep trouble.

Delusions and Poison: Russia wants his “son” to forget his past. And Russia will do whatever it takes to make that possible.

Lost: The Karelian ASSR is a loyal citizen to his country and father, Russia. He helps remove the arm of Imperialist Finland and is hailed as a hero. So why does a part of him think his life is so wrong? Why does a part of him want to call Imperialist Finland father?

The Power of a Puppet: Philippines was trying his best to fight off the control of the puppet state put in place by the Empire of Japan. His efforts were not always successful.

Puppet State: The Philippines has been trapped as Japan’s puppet for months now, and as Japan slowly breaks his mental state, she has another person she wants his help in breaking. His daughter, Guam.

Strike Back: Ohio and North Carolina were always the pilots of the family. So when they were informed of the plan now known as the Dolittle Raid, they were eager to participate.

When The Land Lacks a Host: When the Allies occupied Germany, they killed the personification of the nation and prevented a new one from being born. Turns out that has consequences.

One Good Leg: America got shot in the leg in the Battle of Okinawa. The person who saved him was not the person he was expecting.

The Other Side of the United States: America loves his kids, which sometimes makes it hard to remember he's an empire. Here's your reminder.

The North and the South: The births of North Korea and South Korea.

Becoming a Satellite: Hungary is about to become a satellite state. Shame he doesn’t know what it entails.

The Satellite Inspection: Soviet likes inspecting his satellites to make sure they are turning out like he wants them too. Sometimes, they aren’t. That’s when things get bad for them.

The Not So Good Friday: It was a peaceful Good Friday in 1964, and Alaska was enjoying his afternoon in Anchorage. Then he got hit by an earthquake.

The Meaning of Freedom: Philippines has not been having a fun time in the 20th century, as his mind is ripped away from him again and again. But finally, his mind is freed and he can begin to heal.

Kindred Spirits: Ireland had been helped by a lot of people during his Famine. The one he remembers the most fondly is the Choctaw Nation.

Successor: Poland doesn’t think he deserves to be Poland. His father disagrees.

Checkmate: Croatia has just signed the Sarajevo Agreement, a big step towards her independence.

The Nightmare: Finland's dreams are full of regret.

The River: Delaware and New Jersey don't exactly get along. A border conflict makes this worse.

Confessions: Britain is a terrible father, but he has many favorites, picked because of their majority white populations and their lack of a native personification as a birth parent. Or so they thought.

[krispyweiss]

Book Review: “Spirit of the Century: Our Own Story” by the Blind Boys of Alabama with Preston Lauterbach

The complete and unvarnished story of the Blind Boys of Alabama is finally told in “Spirit of the Century: Our Own Story.”

The resulting 320 pages contain the fullest accounting of the poorly documented Blind Boys the world is likely to ever get, rectifying a fate befalling many black American artists. “Spirit” fills in all the gaps in membership, the lean years and the Blind Boys’ 1980s renaissance and other facts that even long-time followers would’ve been unlikely to know about before diving in to the book.

Written by the band with “The Chitlin’ Circuit” author Preston Lauterbach, “Spirit of the Century” covers the Blind Boys’ 1939 beginnings as the Happy Land Jubilee Singers at the Alabama Institute for the Negro Deaf and Blind through to the present day. Along the way, the gaping holes in the group’s story are plugged with solid research, plenty of archival and contemporary interviews and strong writing.

The Happy Lands, as Lauterbach refers to the early group, turned professional in 1944, leaving behind one Jimmy Carter, who was too young to hit the road, but would come back in the 1980s after a two-decade stint with the Blind Boys of Mississippi to form a “holy trinity” with co-founders George Scott and Clarence Fountain. Carter ultimately became the group’s third leader, after Velma Traylor and Fountain. He retained that title until his 2023 retirement and the passing of the reins to Rickie McKinnie.

In a move described as akin to Mick Jagger leaving the Rolling Stones to join the Beatles, Fountain decamped the Alabama Blind Boys in 1969 and temporarily hooked up with the hard-drinking Blind Boys of Mississippi. It was here Fountain and Carter first reconnected before the former, who had girlfriends scattered around the country and six children he denied in his will, eventually moved on to a star-crossed solo career that found him touring with horny conjoined twins and participating in a stolen-car ring with a con-man manager before rejoining his original group in the 1970s.

Fountain’s life, Lauterbach writes, was “a maze of complications that make Sophocles seem like Dr. Seuss.”

Carter eventually transferred from the Mississippi to the Alabama Blind Boys and, after the band starred in 1983’s “The Gospel at Colonus,” found mainstream success as the musical “made the Blind Boys of Alabama white-people famous.”

This led to working relationships with Lou Reed, Ben Harper, Peter Gabriel and others. The Blind Boys of Alabama picked up Grammy awards and sung for presidents but never lost their taste for their beloved “Mack Donald’s,” where they stopped on the way to perform for George W. Bush.

“So we go into the White House with a guy named Jimmy Carter and all the rest holding McDonald’s bags,” BBA’s manager is quoted as saying in the book.

Lauterbach told the story just in time. Carter, the last surviving original member of the group, is 92 and retired and while the Blind Boys of Alabama plan to continue on indefinitely, their original era is over. That’s all the more reason to give thanks to Lauterbach for uncovering one of music’s most-important sagas and for “Spirit of the Century,” easily the most-informative music biography of the past decade.

Grade card: “Spirit of the Century: Our Own Story” by the Blind Boys of Alabama with Preston Lauterbach - A

4/29/24

[indielowercase]

all women are oppressed and all men are oppressors. thats what patriarchy is. dumbass

This ask came in because I responded to a post about radical feminism and TERFs, saying it tends toward "race blindness," which refuses to acknowledge the realities of racism.

"Emmett Louis Till[...] was an African American boy who was abducted, tortured, and lynched in Mississippi in 1955 at the age of 14, after being accused of offending a white woman, Carolyn Bryant, in her family's grocery store"

"On May 25, a clip captured in a section of the famed park known as "The Ramble" generated attention on Twitter. In it, a White woman called the cops after a Black birdwatcher asked her to leash her dog, per park regulations."

Jury: Former Seattle cop discriminated against black man using golf club as cane

A Brief History of The Women's KKK- JSTOR

Why White Women Keep Calling The Cops On Black People: "[T]he power of white men has always been ubiquitous, and so the abuse of their power was easily seen. But white women and their fears represent a less public terror – their gender obscuring the lethality of their tactics. Lying is a minor concern as long as the social order between races is maintained.

Identifying as the victim allows the women in these scenarios to maintain both innocence and ignorance"

There is a long history of white women's presumed innocence being used to justify violence against and oppression of men of color. This is not even bringing up how people's sexuality, class, and ability status are effected by social power structures. This anonymous ask is very much proving my point.

[positivebeatdigest]

The Five Blind Boys of Mississippi - Leaning On The Everlasting Arms

[tejedac]

Favorite Blues Songs · Playlist

Robert Johnson · Elmore James · Howlin' Wolf · Muddy Waters · B. B. King · John Lee Hooker · Sonny Boy Williamson · Mississippi Fred McDowell · Lightnin' Hopkins · Willie Dixon · Memphis Slim · J. B. Lenoir · Blind Willie McTell · Skip James · Frank Stokes · Charley Patton, etc.

[counttothree123]

Does Truth Have a Moral? is UPDATED

After almost a year and a half of waiting... chapter 7 is out :)

It's early. Peeking through the blinds of a small New York apartment, mellow rays of sunlight flit across a kitchen's dusty cupboards. A glass of stale water rests on the counter. Where the home would usually be bustling about with a little family, there's silence.

At the table, there's a book drooping in the hands of a woman who looks like she's been reading for hours (she has). Everything about her whispers tired. The slouch of her spine, the bags under her eyes, the creases in her forehead. Sally Jackson used to be beautiful. While Percy would fight anyone who suggested otherwise, she knows the truth. She is no longer a pretty woman. She is drained.

The book in her hands paints her as an angel. (A word about my mother, before you meet her. Her name is Sally Jackson and she's the best person in the world). Sally's chest had heaved at that line. Her baby always gave her too much credit. What kind of mother—let alone the "best person in the world”—loses a child for almost a year? Lets him slip into Tartarus? Sits in her home as he fights one war after another?

Paul slips into a chair next to her, breaking her unforgiving train of thought and quietly pushing an apple into Sally's hand. "You've been reading for hours. Percy will come home when it's safe."

"It should never be unsafe to come home," Sally snaps. Not a second later, the anger seeps away. This time, her voice is muffled in the fabric of her husband's sweater, strained against the tightness in her throat. "It should never be unsafe to come home." 

There, in the stillness of her little kitchen, Sally Jackson cries for her baby boy. The one who begs her for blue pancakes every Saturday morning. Who washes the dishes from the couch with his weird brain-water abilities and curses when he inevitably gets soap everywhere. Who makes Zeus puns and laughs at the sky when it booms in anger. Who gives her credit for being the best person in the world, when really, that person is him.

That boy opens the front door about ten seconds later. "Mom?”

“Percy?” She whips her head around, and there he stands, Annabeth close behind. In an instant, Sally is on her feet and yanking her son to her, gripping him so tight her knuckles pale. They don't say anything, but the way mother and son cling to each other speaks volumes.

"I'm okay, mom," Percy finally whispers. "Are you?"

She only pulls him tighter, body trembling with soft sobs. Images of her little boy, twelve years old and plummeting from the Gateway Arch into the Mississippi River hundreds of feet below flash through her mind. She'll never let him go again. Not after knowing what happens when he leaves.

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[from-memphis-with-love]

Synopsis: It's 1966. Elvis and Frannie are laying in bed and he pours his heart out to her about his mismanaged movie career. She comforts and encourages him. This will be incorporated into a later chapter of my fic, Gambling on Your Love. Enjoy!

“Wait, you’re serious? Parker takes fifty percent of everything you earn?”

Elvis is silent, but his nod speaks louder than words. 

“Elvis, that’s robbery. Nobody’s manager takes fifty percent. He’s robbing you blind!” Frannie sits up in bed, covering herself with the blanket. “And he’s got you tied to a picture contract four years in advance? And you can’t give final say for scripts or storyline or anything else? If my manager did that to me, I’d kick him right in the ass and send him packing!” She is practically beside herself now, her arms crossed in indignation at the thought of him being exploited. 

Elvis slinks lower into the blankets. “Yes,” he responds faintly as a whisper. “That’s how it is.” He takes a deep breath, “Y’know, there are some things I really wanna do. I want to be in a serious film. I want to make a classic film that people will remember. Sometimes I get violently ill thinking about the things they got me doin’. People don’t think I care, but I do. I care. I care,” he winces.

“So do it.”

The advice couldn’t have been simpler. Just do it.

Deep down, Elvis knows he’s a cash cow for so many that he can hardly think about himself, even to his detriment. As a good Southern boy, he never ever allowed himself to, not even back in 1954 when his star was starting to rise. Elvis has always put the others around him first. 

I’ve got responsibilities, he tells himself. I’ve got people—hell, family—on payroll. Is it any wonder then, that he swallows his pride and lowers himself time and time again for the bottom-of-the-barrel projects Parker scrounges up? The kinds of things that not even a lesser star, let alone Elvis Presley should be doing?

He wishes with every fiber of his being that he could just fire the leech. But Parker, for all his carny faults, was there when Elvis was just a pup. He'd guided him, molded him, made him into the man he is today, including all of his riches and privileges. A man made of far sterner stuff, Parker took care of Elvis when his own blasted father couldn't. Elvis feels loyal to Parker and has given him his word, even though he sees more than anyone else that Parker's choices are tanking his career. This puts Elvis in an untenable position, for being at heart just a poor kid from Mississippi, loyalty is everything. And God, he's afraid. He's terrified that if he doesn't keep working somehow, all of it will disappear. He'll have to go back to driving a truck and everyone in his orbit will be destitute. The stress is unbearable.

"I have obligations and upkeep and maintenance, and everyone turns to me with their goddamn mouths open and hands out and eyes expectant," he growls.

Everybody except Frannie.

Elvis looks at her and his expression immediately softens for a moment. She has her own money and career and she's never asked a single thing of him except his love. And for that, he is eternally grateful.

In her bitingly direct New York way, Francesca Ferrara was the first person ever to give him the permission to be selfish. Now, her stark advice cuts through his fog like a knife and he sits up next to her, practically rumbling as his anger returns. 

“I’ve had enough of these bullshit movies. If it’s got me singing in it, I don’t wanna do it anymore. I’m not who Hollywood thinks I am!” Elvis’ voice grows bolder. And Frannie knows it’s true. Her Elvis is an introspective person… soul-searching, even. A man who is surprisingly deep, thoughtful, and intelligent beyond his high school education. Frannie knows him to be gentle and kind and curious about the world. She smiles at the thought of the man she loves one day showing the world who he really is, testing his mettle with a meaty script or even playing to crowds abroad.  

Elvis’ hands ball into fists of rage. “A-a-and I wanna go back to touring, especially outside the country. I miss going out and seeing the people. I miss making music I care about. I miss being on stage and connecting and moving and doing what I want to do. I’m sick of singing to turtles. Man, that shit is beneath me!”

Frannie can see the excitement building in his eyes, the hope flashing through them. It exhilarates her to see him this way, seeing him take front seat in his career for the first time in years, knowing that she's not the only one who believes in him—that he's finally starting to believe in himself, too.

“It is,” she adds, her voice a calming presence as she gently touches his arm. The thought of the world wearing him down makes her heart ache. She wants to care for him so badly. To just miniaturize him and carry him around with her all day to shield him from all harm and hurt.

“Elvis, you have the talent to do whatever you set your mind to,” she cards her fingers through his tousled hair, “So why don’t you go out and do it?”