#he do be strugglin and i do be watchin

[cowboykeery]

GATOR TILLMAN BLIND AND BLOODY

[holdhoiyghost]

finished writing @ 6:33 am 12/22/23

fixed typos @ 6:42 am

dream begins on a sort of tv show, where this guy was helping out a less fortunate family get more civilized and used to 'normal life' since they liked like super separate from the outside world. i remember him trying to keep some gated animals in their gates but they kept getting out. or trying to do everything around the house w no help. and then him trying to leave but the mom comes out n shes like super pregnant. he was strugglin so so hard, and so for some reason mark n i took over.

so there i was with markiplier, for some reason going to help with this thing for views ig since it was broadcasted for tv. we were loading stuff in the house at first and it was sorta weird? like there were boxes i could move (blue cube thingys) and i could sorta platformer on them but there were also just. stairs.

so we meet the family. all are pretty normal. ish. i guess. for a family that doesnt rly no normal things yknow? and so we get to work teaching them for tv.

and shit gets like weird here right? idk how long we were there for or anything but i remember that we got the kids some fancier clothes n they looked so cool. there was a red dress w a bow n that was nice. idk what the son wore but the daughters had the same thing.

then for some reason between me n mark doin stuff to help theres a scene of mf peter griffin chillin out with a separate kid on the couch watchin him play games? and the kid is sad and peter asks whats up and the kid says that he'd rather also talk about it with his mom around so he goes to get her. i remember sort of a voice in peters head talking cause pg was sort of upset by this and it was like "yeah this is a good time to cry" and so the kid n mom got back and ended up comforting pg and they gave each other a Look over his back? i think it was either same family different time or just . there. idk.

nyways back to me n mark. there we were helpin the family when wow! matpat shows up! he drove there to help mark n i and so we show him some cool stuff and he doesnt like any of it. not even the cool water table that you can drink river water from. (table had water runnin down the middle of it from idk where to idk where, and was rly grainy with sand). he didnt like it cuz microbes or smth.

mark left me n him alone togo talk to the family abt somethin so matpat n i were jut Chillin ™ . i remember that . the water on the table turned red n i had said smth about 'that time of the month' to mat, tho idk why the table would have been? connected to bathrooms for that? though i guess with that happening it kinda set off some this is Bad alarms for us since it happened twice. and so we kinda started making our way to the door to gtfo

and when we saw mark sort of across the room? or when we were already out the door? holding his stomach and very much bleeding we kind of . booked it to the van n left him there since freaky family was m behind him and lookin like they absolutely did smth to him (and were gonna to us). i hop in the passenger seat n close the door behind the passenger from the inside since i think i opened it in my rush to get in? mat jumps in the drivers n we were gonna try to get mark in but . the mom was like Right Behind him and the kids were tryin to get in so we like left left him. i feel bad about it after wakin up n i felt bad inside the dream/nightmare too.

nyway mat n i leave. the window acts a little weird n one if the kids ;def more of a monster by this point) almost gets in the car but i stop them n roll up the window again (a little difficult but yeah). i tell mat to ignore the stop sign at the turn (no need for a stopsign there anyway...it was 1 road no intersection). he does n we go down the mountain n end up platformin the van across a pond o water??? somehow??

we get to the other side and there is. a whole bunch of platforming to be done. and its in like sort of a semicircle but not Realy a semicircle ykwim? like it kinda curved but not . n there's a body sitting up in the middle of it in a weird suit of armor? (thats what it looked like but. i dont think it was?? unsure)

(btw when we were leaving the family they said it didnt matter if we got away cause they understood human customs now? so theyd see us again soon)

on the news which we were listening to for some reason they were talking about how mat n i ditched the project and that mark finished it out on his own, but also how mark's style was like... weird now. he wasn't himself anymore. abt him wearing a weird outfit or a new vid showing multiple people all in the same outfit.

the weird outfit described was somehow the one in the semicircleish platformin space and mat n i knew we were fucked fucked tbh. so we managed to platform the van to the top somehow to try and leave, but of the 2 exits we tried there were shadowy shapes with glowin white eyes on the other side, so we just. went to the middle platform by activating jets? or flying? on the van and just. sitting there.

i didnt wake up @ this point (something something ian hecox revisiting old videos? fnaf gameplay i think? but like knockoff fnaf. starting screen had bright blue? or yellow? unsure). when i did wake up i was kinda. urgh. didnt rly know what ti do other than write it all down. definitely one of my clearer dreams ive had recently (tho the scary ones usually are tbh). i cant rly express just how fucked up the whole situation was, n i wonder how long that family had just been. there. waiting for someone to stay long enough to teach them. so that they could go out to hunt while blending in.

sorry markiplier for leaving you for dead. it wasnt on purpose. i was scared af in the dream n matpat wasnt slowing down for you either. also tbh you were basically already dead anyway, like thee was No way we were gettin u to a hospital on time. still sorry tho.

[peroxideprinces]

I'm enabling you, ramble

y’know after watchin almost everyone’s november 16th vod, i’ve realized somethin.

everyone’s pov is important in one way or another. whether it be small like george’s or big like techno’s, everyone has a role.

in wilbur’s, you can just tell that he doesn’t give a shit about gettin l’manburg back. his mind’s been made up. from the moment he took the screenshot on the bridge, you just know that he’s goin to blow it up.

in techno’s, you can also tell immediately that he’s the traitor. maybe not when watchin it live, but in the vod it’s clear that he’s not completely with pogtopia.

i really don’t think i need to talk about tommy or tubbo’s.

in phil’s, you can see the desperation as he tries to get wilbur to stop. you can tell that he’s tryin so hard.

in quackity’s, he knows that wilbur’s about to blow up l’manburg as soon as dream says there’s a traitor. he tries to tell people, but no one listens; that ultimately costs an entire nation.

niki? she finds the tnt wilbur placed. she has faith he won’t do anythin so she stays silent about it.

fundy? he has to watch his former president die, n also has to watch as his father blows up a fuckin nation.

george? he’s buildin a house the entire time! this shows us that he doesn’t give a shit about what’s happenin because, overall, it doesn’t affect him.

purpled? he’s strugglin to pick a side the entire time. he ultimately chooses pogtopia. one of my favorite scenes to this day is the one where he burns the manburg shield by the l’mantree.

eret? the entire fuckin part with dream. need i say more?

i know there’s some i haven’t mentioned, but all of the perspectives play into the streamer’s character. all of them help us get some understanding of the character. plus!! they’re all so?? entertainin?? like??

anyway i’ll shut up now <3

[spookyscientistskeleton-moved]

💭 grillby and fern!

Send in 💭 to find out what my muse thinks of yours || Accepting!

His tone is calm, collected, and rehearsed, as he says, 'She makes Sans happy. Isn't that all that matters?'

It was. But it also wasn't the question. He sighs.

'I think... I regret that we didn't meet under different circumstances,' he admits. 'Another time, another place, without the man I've been an utter fool over for the past twenty years as a part of the equation? Maybe... we might have been friends. She's charming. She's funny. And she still makes an effort to extend an olive branch to me, even when I've been nothing but cold and distant. We're very different people, but--I like to think we'd have gotten along.'

----

It's not that he doesn't have his insecurities when it comes to the lady in his life. There's no part of his life in the treehouse, really, that isn't marked by some measure of uncertainty and self-doubt, a fear of getting too attached to something that isn't meant for him, of having the rug pulled out from under him the second he gets too comfortable.

And yet, when it comes to her--those doubts measure smaller, and his smile is so much easier to find.

'What do I think about her? Shit, man, I'm fuckin' crazy about 'er!'

'Lo's just fun to be around. And like--we got the same kinda idea of fun a lotta the time, y'know? Ain't no better karaoke duet partner in the world, I'll tell ya that. We can spend the whole day partyin' together an' it don't get boring for a second. An' even if we're all just chillin' out at home with the Boss an' the cat, watchin' a movie or one'a Sansy's football games, it just--feels good bein' with her.'

His next laugh is a bit softer, as he rubs the back of his neck.

'And--I dunno. I always feel like she's in my corner, y'know? Not that Sans isn't, they just got different ways'a goin' about it. I just, ah... well. I was really strugglin' to stay off the sauce, when I met her an' the Boss. Had been for years. But she never... I dunno, she never thought any less of me for it. When she stopped keepin' booze in the treehouse, I don't know if she thought much of that at the time, but it was like sayin'... I didn't have to be alone in it anymore, right? That she wanted us be in it together.' His expression is fond and affectionate, albeit a bit sheepish. 'She's a great girl. Better than she gives herself credit for. Me an' the Boss... we're so lucky to have her. I'm lucky, that I get to love her.'

[cycat4077]

Lessons

Summary: You have a little heart-to-heart with a student you're tutoring. Sonny may or may not be eavesdropping. (Set Summer 2016) Pairing: Sonny x Reader Warnings: Basically just fluff! Words: 1808 AO3: here

Part 10 of the Changes verse - but it can be read as a one-shot too.

A/N: If this is your first time seeing this series, the reader is a teacher but is in between jobs. Money is tight, you and Sonny are coming out of a big fight and now the squad officially knows about yours and Sonny's relationship. This is just a little fluff filler fic to move things along :)

"The Lean Bean". It's the logo embroidered on the pocket of the uniform you're folding. It's also the place where you've been taking shifts as a way to offset some living costs. The new school year, and a dependable paycheck, is still well over a month away. Sonny had told you not to worry about finding extra work, but the idea of living together without paying for anything didn't sit right with you - especially in such an expensive city.

Reaching into the laundry basket, you pull out a pair of dryer-warmed socks and routinely fold them in two. A clunk at the front door makes you gaze over your shoulder from your spot on the couch. Finally, Sonny is home. You greet each other affectionately, Sonny placing a kiss to your forehead.

"How was your day?" you ask, grabbing another pair of socks to fold.

"Long," he replies but you can tell from his voice that there's something more. You look at him expectantly, offering a gentle smile.

"I, uh," he hesitates, moving around the couch to take a seat. "I spoke to the squad about us today."

Sonny's eyes are apologetic; the fight of a few nights ago is still fresh in your minds. You let him know it's all right by placing a hand atop his knee.

Reassured, he continues. "They're happy for me - for us – ‘n they've noticed that I'm happier too. Actually, before I left tonight Lieu pulled me aside. She said that I have more patience with the vics ‘n that I'm more tolerant when interrogating perps. Doll, I know that I couldn't do any of that if it wasn’t for you."

"That's excellent news, Sonny!" you express, flattered by the compliment as well. "You really are a great detective."

Sonny beams for a moment before his face falls. "Also, 'n I hope you're not mad, but I took the opportunity to talk to Lieu about what happened between us…about me keepin’ you a secret from ‘em."

You feel a twinge of panic in your gut at the thought of Olivia being privy to details of your relationship troubles. That initial feeling subsides however as Sonny elaborates.

"It's just...she knows what it's like ta try ‘n balance life ‘n this job, and - "

But you cut him off before he can finish his sentence. "You don't have to explain, Sonny," you empathize. "It's good to talk things out with someone who understands."

Sonny's warm hand finds yours and he interlace your fingers. "Yeah," he agrees. "She was really sympathetic about it, too. She told me it's normal to feel scared but that it is better to be honest." His mouth curves into a lopsided grin. "Typical Lieu," he shakes his head. "Oh, ‘n I kinda told her about our situation ‘n how you were outta work until the fall - Again, I shoulda asked ya before I went there, but she was really supportive of us. In fact, she gave me the numba of a mom at Noah's daycare who's lookin' for a tutor for her daughter. Apparently she's headed inta middle school ‘n is really strugglin'."

It's a lot to take in but you assure Sonny that you're not upset with him. You appreciate his honesty. Relieved, Sonny wraps you in a hug and tells you again how lucky he is to have you.

As for the tutoring. Well, it's hard to say no. The extra cash will certainly help pay some of the bills that have increased since you moved in.

-x-

Madison is a pretty guarded girl. On the brink of being a teenager, she wants nothing to do with being tutored and everything to do with all else. Her mother dropped her off in a hurry, needing to shuttle her other two children to various extracurricular activities. Unfortunately, this left little time for introductions or for inquiries regarding the areas she particularly needed help in.

You try to be as welcoming as possible, asking her questions about her school work and attempting to understand her learning needs. The girl, however, couldn't be bothered. So, instead of blindly waltzing into curriculum review, you decide to have a little heart-to-heart.

"Madison," you speak, leaning back in your chair. "Do you know why you're here; why your mom asked me to tutor you?"

The girl refuses to meet your gaze. "Well, yeah,” she crosses her arms on your kitchen table. “Mom wants me to be tutored and stuff." There’s definitely attitude behind that tone.

You swallow your annoyance and choose your words wisely. "In simple terms, yes. But I think you know that it’s not for your mom's benefit. It's for you, so that you can start the year off prepared."

"Yeah, whatever,” she rolls her eyes with a huff. “No matter what, it's never gonna be enough anyway."

"Hey!" you defend gently. "Don't say that! My attitude is that if you know in your heart that you tried your very best, that's all you can do."

Madison studies you through the bangs that hover over her green eyes. For a moment you swear you can see the words getting through, but then she shrugs. "If I get good grades, mom promised to buy me a new iPhone."

How do you put a positive spin on this? How do you connect with this girl? "That's awesome!" you encourage. "You know, in college I was failing calculus." The girl raises her dark brows in shock. Maybe we're getting somewhere. "Yeah, I felt really dumb in that class and I just didn’t understand anything when it came to tests. Needless to say, I was panicking big time when finals rolled around. So, my dad made me a deal. We lived upstate and he absolutely hated the thought of driving in New York City, but he said that if I could pull off a 90% in the course, he would drive me here to see a Broadway show."

Now Madison is listening intently, curiosity etched across her young face.

"Both he and I thought it would be impossible, but low and behold, I hunkered down," you exaggerate a look of concentration and tuck your arms close to your body, "and studied my butt off! I passed with a 93!"

The girl's mouth drops open. "What show did you see?"

You smile fondly at the memory. "None," Madison shoots you a bewildered look, "but we did end up doing other fun stuff. I still like to tease my dad about it though and I guess I should be the one taking him since I live here now."

Madison's features soften and she allows a small chuckle.

"The point is," you say, trying to refocus the girl, "that you'd be surprised what you can do when you put your mind to it!"

You offer her an encouraging smile but Madison's quickly fades as she glances away. "It's...it's just really hard," she admits. "Mom's always so busy with my brother and sister which…kinda sucks sometimes."

Your eyebrows pinch together sympathetically. What can you say to her to let her know that it’s okay? Then your mind flickers to Sonny. "I know it's gonna be hard for me to relate to you on this one since I have no siblings, but my boyfriend comes from a big family. He has three sisters and he tells me that they used to fight like cats and dogs growing up." You can see Madison nod knowingly. "But you know what? Those squabbles really don't matter now. They love each other and they'd do anything for one another." A doting smile spreads across your face, "I'm actually kind of jealous of that. And with you, I bet that you must feel a lot of pressure to look out for your brother and sister, huh?" Madison shrugs sheepishly.

"That's a lot of responsibility, but at the same time, your siblings will appreciate you for it. They may not show you or tell you - they'll still be the same pains in the butt, however once you're all grown up, they will understand how much you've been there for them along the way. Whether you realize it or not, they look up to you. So, the greatest thing you can do for them is be the best version of yourself. By trying your best and working hard, they will learn to do that too - from you." You smile warmly at her and she returns the gesture.

It's not long after that Madison begins opening up. She explains what classes she has trouble with and how she feels about learning it. The information is invaluable and you take notes to plan out future sessions.

Madison's mother arrives a few minutes late to pick her up, but the girl flashes you a friendly smile as she leaves. You hope that you've given her more self-confidence and a little motivation to put forth her best efforts.

After you close the door behind them, Sonny pops around the corner and places a hand on the small of your back. He whispers softly into your ear. "You're amazin’, sweetheart." His breath causes a shiver to trickle down your spine.

"What? Why?" you question as Sonny slips his arms around the front of your waist.

Resting his chin on your shoulder, he continues. "The way you were talkin’ to Madison earlier. You've got so much compassion ‘n understandin’."

The warmth of his words radiates throughout your body. You lean your head against his, reaching up to touch the apple pendant hanging around your neck.

"Sorry for eaves droppin' but I heard my name 'n everythin' you were sayin' was just too sweet to turn away. You're definitely in the right profession. Your students are lucky to have you."

You turn around in his arms, slipping yours around his middle. "Thank you, Sonny," you murmur before placing a soft kiss to his nose. "That means a lot."

Sonny's eyes crinkle affectionately at the corners. "N' for what it's worth, you're gonna make an amazin' mom someday too. Watchin' you with her, it was all I could think about."

Your stomach somersaults. You do want kids one day and you can't imagine having them with anyone other than Sonny. "Yeah?" you smirk. "I want that for us one day too. The way you are with children melts my heart."

Sonny's features brighten. "Ya think I'd make a good dad?"

"Absolutely!" You poke his chest gently, right overtop his heart, "you got a lotta love in here, Carisi and someday our children will be the luckiest wee munchkins in the world getting to experience the love that I receive everyday."

Overwhelmed with elation, Sonny lifts you off your feet and into a giant bear hug; a silent declaration that you make him the happiest man in the world.

---

Fun facts:

- IDK if "The Lean Bean" is a real place or not, but it's a pretty accurate description of our favorite detective ;) - The story about the reader's calculus experience is a true story! Except, I'm Canadian so the drive is a little bit further :P

I hope you enjoyed this one! Thanks for reading :3

(Feedback is loved)

Part 11 here!

[dhaston]

That dream

“Alright lemme see if this--” 

The device that plays back the gruff voice of the scoundrel stops for a moment, the tape still continues but it’s as if the man that made the recording didn’t fully understand how this worked. Thankfully the whirring of the item kept going and once again Dhaston’s voice rang out.

“Fuckin’ dumb switches...Alright..”

Wood dragged across wood, legs of a chair sliding across the floor that it sat upon before the heavy huff of a man dropping right into the seat was heard. Soft sounds of clothes shifting about skin, a rustle of fabric followed by what one would assume is the clink of ice jingling about in a glass; liquid sloshing this way and that within it. “So this is a first for me. I actually don’t know why I’m doin’ this really? This--It was a joke aimed at me but I was *told* to write a book. Obviously that ain’t happenin’. So I got this damn box,”

Two heavy thuds came out through the speakers like a finger hitting the play back machine. After that deep reverberating noise rang out the soft sounds of city alive could be heard. Faint waves in the distance lapping against a surface, crashing the water apart against it in that special greeting the ocean gives to land. A distant yell here, a few laughs there, and the hum of music being played off in some near by tavern

“Records what I say and figured I can use it. Maybe vent or somethin’.”

Dhaston let out a low chuckle that was quickly cut off by the sound of what seemed like lips taking in the pleasures of a drink. Again the jingle of cubed ice dancing about in glass was picked up before a calm still befell the recording for a few moments.

“I had that dream again. It always starts the same, always with me starin’ at that damn chair in the middle of the livin’ room. It’s a nice chair--Or well /was/ a nice chair. Threw that shit out as fast as I could after I scrubbed it down, still wouldn’t be the same.”

Another pause came and then deep heavy sigh escaped the scoundrel.

“Serena was sittin’ there lookin’ right at me with those piercin’ blue eyes of hers. Long black hair hangin’ down past her shoulders, bangs dancin’ in her face which made me laugh because she’d always complain about them. Her clothes pressed and lookin’ like she paid more than someone should have for her outfit. Even with all that she was still lifeless, dead, just like I found her. There was that bullet hole right between her eyes trailin’ long red streaks of blood down across her face. And she just kept starin’ up at me with those pleadin’ eyes like I could’ve done somethin’ to help her. But I can’t, I’m just standin’ there watchin’ and not bein’ able to move. Fuckin’ helpless...All I can do is look down at my hands and strugglin’ with them to try and get them to do somethin’....But I fuckin’ can’t.”

A loud creak of wood was heard; mingled in with the sound of the scoundrel exhaling like he was leaning back in his chair. 

“I look back up she’s gone and instead it’s the boy. Same look as Serena but not as pretty. His face...His face was swollen, just a fuckin’ mess. Bruises the color of deep purple, dried caked blood around his mouth and nose. He was exactly how I left him that night, a problem I’ve lived with over these, what, three four years? But that’s when I feel it, I feel my hands shakin’ and I look down at ‘em and they’re just covered in blood, lookin’ exactly like that fuckin’ night. So I squeeze my damn hands closed tryin’ to will that mess off ‘em, tryin’ to get ‘em clean but it won’t. Fuckin’. Go. Away.”

The sharp sound of teeth being sucked upon rang out like it were some mark for Dhaston to take his pause and think things over.

“I couldn’t stop myself then. I just fell into that trap of lettin’ myself go on some poor fuckin’ kid that meant nothin’. Meant no goddamn harm and yet I snuffed his life out. But when I look back up he’s gone but she’s there. Heh, like she’s always been to me..Those honeyed eyes starin’ at me with that lazy unimpressed look she gives me. Her split brow clear as day and those golden locks framin’ her tanned skin. I ain’t sayin’ she ain’t gorgeous cause that woman is but I get a fire boilin’ up in me that makes me look past all that. Like I can’t even /see/ that woman I’ve let my eyes watch. That’s when my hands always rush to her, grab her throat as tight as I fuckin’ can and squeeze hard. But no matter how much I do, no matter how much my muscles strain she ain’t fuckin’ feelin’ it.”

The familiar sound of a chair moving and a body rustling clothes was heard before the same voice that had been speaking grew a bit louder and deeper like the scoundrel moved closer to the device.

“And I’m fuckin’ grippin’ like a son of a bitch right now. I’m growlin’ and screamin’ my anger at her like I was some fuckin’ Worgen out for blood. I should be makin’ her eyes roll back but they fuckin’ ain’t. They keep watchin’ me unimpressed with me, tired of me. But gods what she does next...She holds up a damn lighter and a cigarette like it ain’t no thing to her. Like I was just a breeze kissin’ her cheeks and she was in no danger. She plops that damn stick between /those/ lips and she. Just. Lights. Up.”

A faint huff is heard before came the rumble of a frustrated chuckle. 

“She takes in one long pull from her cigarette and blows the smoke right in my face like it was nothin’ to her. But then I hear that smoky voice of hers say the thing she says to me every damn time in this dream...At least you tried. All it took was just that to make my hands pull back from her like she was a damn fire. But I feel like I have to try again, feel like I gotta do somethin’ but I can’t. All I can do is reach for her again but it ain’t to hurt her. No, I touch where I had grabbed just to see if anythin’ was left. Any fuckin’ marks, any signs of pain or a dent or I dunno. It was like she was some damn doll and I didn’t want break it. But she’s still starin’ at me, still watchin’ me with those golden eyes of hers. All I can think about now is her words, at least I tried.”

Silence fell over the tape for what seemed like eternity but it was just mere moments. The distant music and sounds of the ocean filled in for the man’s voice knowing he was in quiet contemplation. The errant sound of chair squeaking and a glass being sipped danced about with the ambient noises being picked up till finally the deep strong voice of the scoundrel made itself known.

“That’s when I wake up, always the same endin’, never anythin’ past that point. I tried to do right by her some time ago and I failed, she made me see that. And I should’ve done what I told her I’d do but I can’t. She is--She’s...She’s stronger than me. She’s everythin’ I could’ve been and everythin’ I want; guess that’s why I follow her...Or maybe I’m just a fuckin’ fool.”

One final laugh came from him as a kiss goodbye to the tape letting the machine know it was time to stop playing back.

[thatgirljoy]

Look, black is beautiful, black is excellent

Black is pain, black is joy, black is evident

Workin’ twice as hard as the people you know you’re better than

‘Cause you need to do double what they do so you can level them

Black is so much deeper than just African-American

Our heritage been severed, you never got to experiment

With family trees, ’cause they teach you ’bout famine and greed

Show you pictures of our fam on their knees

Tell us we used to be barbaric, we had actual queens

Black is watchin’ child soldiers gettin’ killed by other children

Feelin’ sick so quick, this could have happened to me

Mummy watchin’ tellin’ stories ’bout your dad and your niece, listen

The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice

Kid dies, the blacker the killer, the sweeter the news

And if he’s white, you give him a chance, he’s ill and confused

If he’s black he’s probably armed, you see him and shoot, look

[Verse 2]

Black is growin’ up around the barbershop

Mummy sayin’, “Stay away from trouble, you’re in yard a lot”

Studying for ages, appreciatin’ the chance you got

‘Cause black is in your blood, and you ain’t even got the heart to stop

Black is steppin’ in for your brothers because your father’s gone

Standin’ by your children when you haven’t proven karma wrong

Black is doin’ all of the above, then go and corner shop

Tryna help a lady cross the road to have her walkin’ off

Black is growin’ up around your family and makin’ it

Being forced to leave the place you love because there’s hate in it

People say you’re faking it, never stay for change in it

But black is bein’ jealous, you’d be dead if you had stayed in it

Black is strugglin’ to find your history and tracing it

You don’t know the truth about your race ’cause they’re erasin’ it

Black has got a really sour flavour, here’s a taste of it

But black is all I know, there ain’t a thing that I would change in it

[Verse 3]

Look, black isn’t a single colour, man, there’s shades to it

Her hair’s straight and thick, but mine’s got waves in it

Black is not divisive, they been lyin’ and I’m hating it

Black has never been a competition, we’re all making it

Black is deadly

Black is when you’re freezin’ in your home and you can’t get sleep, but never feelin’ empty

‘Cause you got twenty cousins in your country living stress-free

Walkin’ for their water, daughter wrapped inside a bedsheet

Black is distant

It’s representin’ countries that never even existed while your grandmother was livin’

Black is my Ghanaian brother readin’ into scriptures

Doin’ research on his lineage, findin’ out that he’s Egyptian

Black is people namin’ your countries on what they trade most

Coast of Ivory, Gold Coast, and the Grain Coast

But most importantly to show how deep all this pain goes

West Africa, Benin, they called it slave coast

Black is so confusin’, ’cause the culture? They’re in love with it

Take our features when they want and have their fun with it

Never seem to help with all the things we know would come with it

Loud in our laughter, silent in our sufferin’

Black is bein’ strong inside and facing defeat

Poverty made me a beast, I battled the law in the streets

We all struggled, but your struggle ain’t a struggle like me

Well how could it be when your people gave us the odds that we beat?

I mean, bloody hell, what about our brothers that are stuck in jail?

That couldn’t bust a bale, they held a bird and gotta live with it

Black is bein’ guilty until proven that you’re innocent

Black is sayin’, “Free all my people stuck inside them prison cells”

Think it’s funny, we ain’t got nothin’ to say to them

Unconditional love is strange to them, it’s amazin’ ’em

Black has really got the sweetest flavour, here’s a taste of it

But black is all I know, there ain’t a thing that I would change in it

[Verse 4]

It is racist whether or not it feels racist

The truth is our Prime Minister is a real racist

They say, “You should be grateful we’re the least racist”

I say the least racist is still racist

And if somebody hasn’t said it

Equality is a right, it doesn’t deserve credit

Now if you don’t want to get it, then you’re never gonna get it

How the news treats Kate versus how they treated Megan

Rest in Peace Jack Merritt, you’re my brother in arms

There’s tears in our eyes and love in our hearts

We never had the same background, culture, colour, or past

But you devoted your life to giving others a chance

And for that, I’m so taken aback

Because it gave us all a voice, I have to say it for Jack

As a young black man seeing paper and crack

Giving tougher sentences, it’s just paper and cracks

All he would want is unity, funding for communities

Equal opportunities, people under scrutiny

No more immunity, way less hatred

More conservation, less deforestation

We want rehabilitation, now that would be amazing

But Grenfell victims still need accommodation

And we still need support for the Windrush generation

Reparations for the time our people spent on plantations

I’m done

[hysterialevi]

When the Devil Cries - Final Part

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

Author’s note: Welp, this is it guys! The final chapter. Thank you so much to those of you who stuck with me during this whole story. I seriously appreciate the support you’ve given me ever since I started this fanfic, and it means the world to me to see how much you’ve enjoyed it. I’m definitely gonna miss writing about Arthur and Eddie, but I also can’t wait to show you what else I have planned in the future. Stay awesome :)

From Arthur’s POV

ONE WEEK LATER

THE BASTILLE, SAINT DENIS

“Dear, John...” I murmured to myself, readin’ my awfully-written letter out loud, “...it’s Tacitus. I hope this letter finds you on the off-chance that you’re still alive, but truth be told...I wouldn’t even know where to start looking. Last time we saw each other, we was both trying to make our way out of that god-awful shit storm, and I regret that I never got the chance to see if you survived.”

“If you’re still out there somewhere, I wish you luck. You saved my ass when hell finally broke loose, and I won’t forget it. As for me -- my partner and I have managed to stay out of trouble for a while, and we’re planning to start a new life someplace else. For your safety and mine, I cannot say where, but just know that we’re doing okay. Things ain’t easy, but we got each other. And if these following years go according to plan, who knows? Perhaps we might be able to rejoin you someday.”

“If you’re not alive though, then...I will certainly miss you. That’s for sure. We ain’t related by blood, I know, but you was always like a brother to me. We grew up together since the very beginning, and I’ll never forget the times when you used to annoy me so much that I wanted to tear my hair out. Who’d have thought I’d eventually miss those days?”

“But...as much as I’d like to keep this going, I’m afraid there’s a ship I need to catch pretty soon. It’s gonna carry me off to a civilized world where I am to live as a civilized man. I ain’t exactly ready for a life like that, but it’s where I’ve ended up. I suppose we shall see how that goes.”

“Farewell for now, John. You’ll always be in my thoughts.

Your friend and brother,

--Tacitus Kilgore.”

Placin’ the letter down on a table, I leaned back in my chair and reread some of the sentences to myself as a worn-out breath escaped me, probably because of how long I spent thinkin’ about how to word all this.

If I was bein’ honest, I didn’t even know if trying to contact John was a good idea. I mean, we was both still wanted men. Even with Agent Milton gone, the rest of the Pinkertons were still searching for us. If they knew that either of us were alive, I had no doubts that they’d do everything within their power to try and stop us from escaping...and that was a risk I couldn’t take.

I let out a frustrated sigh and balled up the piece of paper in my hands, tossin’ it into the nearby fireplace.

“...Goddammit.” I whispered to myself, solemnly watchin’ as the letter burned.

Was that the right thing to do? I wanted to see John again, of course, but...maybe it was better this way.

We both had people to take care of, after all. He had Abigail and Jack, and I had Eddie.

The less we knew about each other, the safer we’d be. We had to worry about more than just ourselves in this case, and -- with the law constantly up our ass -- perhaps it was best for everyone if John thought I was dead. Then, he’d have nothin’ to give to the Pinkertons. At least, not when it came to me.

Still though, part of me wished I could at least say goodbye to him before hightailing it to England. Out of all the people I grew up with, John was the only one left who was alive and trustworthy.

And on top of that, there was no guarantee I’d ever return to America. Apart from sentimentality, this country had nothin’ else for me. All that remained of the Van der Linde gang was a long trail of blood that civilization was already in the process of forgetting, and I certainly didn’t plan on lingering around with my wanted posters still flappin’ in the wind.

I was finally ready to be the man I aspired to be, and not the man Dutch created.

My life in the United States may have been over...but my life as a free man was just beginning.

Interrupting my thoughts, the door suddenly swung open when Eddie came wanderin’ in with a briefcase in his hand, all ready to go. He was usin’ the same cane that Hamish gave to him back at O’Creagh’s Run, and the more I saw him limpin’ around the room with a sway in his step, the more I worried about the true condition of his leg.

The pianist insisted he was fine whenever I asked him, but -- despite bein’ the dolt that I was -- I was still smart enough to assume that climbing a huge rock formation not too long after getting shot in the leg probably wasn’t the best idea.

I supposed all that commotion with Atticus finally did a number on Eddie’s injuries. He looked alright during all that drama, but with everything else that was goin’ on, I only hoped that we wouldn’t need the doctor’s services before departing for England. Things was stressful enough as is.

“Arthur,” Eddie greeted, settin’ his briefcase down on the bed for a moment. “You ready to go? The ship’s leaving in half an hour.”

“Yep. I got everything I need. What about you?”

Eddie took a seat across from me. “Me too. Just...preparing myself for the long journey now, is all. It’s been ages since I last set foot in England. I wonder what it’s like nowadays.”

“Hopefully, better than here.”

A chuckle escaped him. “Oh, I dunno about that, but at least we won’t have to worry about the Pinkertons there. I’m sick of constantly checking over my shoulder for them.”

I nodded in agreement. “I know the feeling. Milton may be dead and gone, but I doubt that the rest of them clowns will give up so easily. Perhaps, it’ll even motivate ‘em to work harder. I just hope Agent Ross doesn’t find John. That man has a family to look after.”

“Have you heard from him ever since Beaver Hollow?”

“No. I was actually plannin’ to send him a letter, but...I got rid of it just before you walked in here. Figured it’d be better if he didn’t know I was alive.”

Eddie tilted his head in an inquisitive manner. “Why? Don’t you want to see him again?”

“’Course I do. But think about it -- if John believes I’m dead, then the Pinkertons will have no reason to pester him. They might still go after him for the bounty on his own head, but interrogatin’ him for information about me would be pointless.”

The pianist glanced downwards. “Hmm. I guess so. Still, it’d be nice to thank him in person. John was always friendly to me back at camp, and he saved our lives at Beaver Hollow too. Without him, neither of us would’ve gotten away.”

“Now, ain’t that the truth.”

Eddie changed the subject. “And what of Dutch? Have you heard any news about him?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Nothing. There’s no word in the papers, no rumors circulating about him --  it’s as if he’s vanished entirely. That man could be on his way to Tahiti for all I know.”

The other man glowered. “...Or running off with Micah.”

“...That, too.” I sighed in disapproval. “Goddamn it...what the hell happened to that man? Dutch used to be so different. So full of life. So...human. But now, he’s nothin’ short of a madman. Just a tyrant who goes trigger-happy when he doesn’t get his way. I keep wonderin’ to myself where it all went wrong. Where things started to fall apart.”

The pianist frowned out of sympathy. “Well, perhaps he was always a madman. It was you who finally opened your eyes and changed.”

I rubbed my chin in thought. “...Maybe. I don’t know. Hosea used to say the same thing about himself, but to be honest...I’m not sure I care anymore. All I care about is us. You’re what matters to me now, Eddie. Not them.”

Eddie beamed warmly at the comment and gazed lovingly at me for a second, seemingly gettin’ lost in his thoughts before bringing up another topic.

“You know what...” he recalled, “that actually reminds me of something I’ve been meaning to tell you ever since we arrived in Saint Denis.”

I quirked a brow. “Oh yeah? And what would that be?”

The pianist gave me a sincere look, suddenly changing his overall demeanor. “...I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

I flicked my eyes around in confusion. “Sorry? For what?”

“For not taking your advice,” he answered. “Ever since the beginning, you warned me that vengeance was an idiot’s game. And like the idiot I was, I refused to listen to you. I was just...”

Eddie let out a conflicted sigh, shifting in his seat. “I was so consumed with this insatiable desire for revenge. No matter how much I tried to forgive him, I just couldn’t let Atticus go. There was too much anger inside me. Too much grief. I thought that killing Atticus would provide a sense of justice, or a fresh beginning, but in the end...his death only made me feel...”

The man trailed off, unable to find the right words.

“...Empty?” I finished.

The pianist nodded in response.

“Yes. Empty. But not only that. When I saw the life disappear from Atticus’ eyes, part of me even...regretted killing him so soon. I guess I had hoped there would be some sort of closure to the conflict between us, but instead...it felt like reading a story that was one chapter short. There was no resolution. No way down from the peak of the mountain. It was just...a cliff. And you know the worst part of it?”

Eddie’s expression sank with melancholy. “...I still can’t let Atticus go.”

Strugglin’ to set his thoughts in order, Eddie lowered his head in a distraught manner and stared aimlessly at the floor, causin’ me to reach across the table and lay a hand on top of his own in an attempt to comfort him.

“Hey...” I whispered softly, tryin’ to catch the disheartened man’s attention. “You made a mistake, but it ain’t the end of the world. You can still learn from this. You’re strong. Much stronger than you realize. And...if I may offer some advice...”

I scooted my chair closer to his, grippin’ his hand more firmly now. “Based on everything you’ve said to me since we first met, it sounds like that Atticus ain’t the one you can’t let go. ...I think it’s Nathaniel that you don’t want to forget.”

Takin’ my words to heart, Eddie paused at my observation and lifted his head slightly, starin’ in a way that told me I just hit the nail on the head.

I could tell from the expression plastered on his face that he ain’t never thought about it that way before, and I almost felt kinda bad for the emotional conflict that I was clearly puttin’ this poor boy through.

He blinked away some of the tears that were startin’ to gather in his eyes and gripped my hand affectionately, trying to hide how much his voice was truly trembling.

“...He is, isn’t he?”

Eddie let out a shaky breath, thinkin’ back to the day Nathaniel died.

“You know, I always blamed myself for not being able to save Nathaniel. I understand that, realistically, there was nothing I could’ve done for him, but still. The thought eats me up all the time. Even now. I just...can’t move on. I can’t sleep at night because I know that if he was alive today, he’d probably never forgive me for abandoning him.

“Nonsense,” I replied, quick to come to his defense. “If Nathaniel knew that you managed to survive that day -- that you actually made it all the way to America, started a new life for yourself, became a pianist, and killed Atticus Rose after months of fightin’ for your life as an outlaw only to become a free man -- why...” I chuckled in awe, “...he’d be so, goddamned proud of you.”

The other man gazed at me with teary eyes, not quite convinced yet. “How do you know?”

I smiled brightly at Eddie. “...Because I know I am.”

Evidently somewhat overwhelmed by my praise, the sorrow disappeared from Eddie’s face as he cracked a small grin and leaned forward, showerin’ me with his own storm of compliments.

“Thank you, Arthur, but it’s not as if I did it all by myself. You did your fair share of work too. In fact, I never would’ve made it this far if you hadn’t found me that day. Your first interaction with me was an act of kindness, and yet you still speak ill of yourself constantly. You truly are a marvel, Arthur...but I don’t think you see it.”

I sighed remorsefully, wishin’ I could say Eddie was entirely right.

“That’s ‘cause I done some real bad things in my life, Eddie. Horrible things. Before I met you, I used to rob people who didn’t deserve it, kill folks who did nothin’ except get in the way of Dutch’s plans, and I did all of it while living under some twisted sense of honor to help me sleep at night. But now...”

I looked the pianist in eye, still holdin’ on to his hand, “I wanna change, Eddie. For real this time. I don’t wanna just be some thief who happens to be kinder than the rest. I wanna be a better man. A better partner. No more crimes, no more violence...just redemption. That’s all I want.”

Eddie gently brought his hands up to my face and pulled me closer, caressing my cheek in a loving manner.

“...Then let’s do it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

TWENTY MINUTES LATER

SAINT DENIS HARBOR

Sittin’ in the stagecoach as it gently rolled over the brick roads, Eddie and I eagerly gazed outta the small windows with a newfound wonder in our hearts as we passed by the whole city, somewhat unable to comprehend that we was actually leavin’ this country.

I had to admit -- it was strange, seeing Saint Denis like this again. Over the course of the last few months, Eddie and I spent every damn day fightin’ for our lives, just trying to survive. We fought against the O’Driscolls, the Pinkertons, Atticus, and even good ol’ Dutch himself.

We had been to Hell and back while still finding the time to plant the seeds of what was now an unbreakable bond between us, and yet...Saint Denis hadn’t changed one bit.

In fact, this city looked exactly the same as when I first met Eddie. People were breezin’ through the streets without a care for the beggars on the sidewalks, activists and politicians rallied people to their campaigns, children played games in the open gardens, and everywhere, people lined up in front of all sorts of establishments, waitin’ to be entertained.

The gears of civilization kept turnin’ with not a single thought for those left behind, and somehow, it still managed to look like it hadn’t gone anywhere at all.

It was one of the many wonders of the new world, but also one of the things that made me fear it. How was it that a city could progress so much without actually changin’ anything? Or maybe it was just my nerves actin’ up? I didn’t know anymore.

Everything was just so confusing now. Instead of runnin’ away from civilized life like I normally did, I was headin’ straight towards it.

I was getting ready to do the one thing that Dutch always insisted was impossible, and to make matters even more astonishing, I had a man who loved me standin’ at my side.

All them years of wondering why I could never be good enough for Mary, or strong enough to protect Eliza...and I finally had someone who accepted me as I was, but also encouraged me to be better. It took a good three decades, but my life had finally picked itself up even though I sure as hell didn’t deserve it.

I was on the opposite side of the spectrum for the first time, but -- contrary to what I expected -- I was happy. I was ready to change. And I welcomed it.

Finally arrivin’ at the harbor, the stagecoach slowed down to a steady halt as it stopped beside the entrance, prompting me and Eddie to leave. There were already a few other stagecoaches lined up in front of us, spittin’ out passengers just the same, and without even looking, I could tell it was gonna be crowded as hell outside just based on the noise.

I picked up my briefcase, takin’ hold of the door’s handle.

“You ready?” I asked Eddie, earning a nod from him.

“Ready as ever.”

Lightly pushing the door open, the two of us were instantly greeted by a cool breeze as the sound of seagulls cryin’ and people chatting reached our ears, followed by the distinct scent of saltwater.

All around me, I could see men, women, and children pacin’ their way across the harbor as they hurried to find their ship, or simply waited for their loved ones to arrive.

There were multiple paperboys stationed throughout the place, merchants displaying their trinkets to newcomers as they came fresh off the boats, fishermen luggin’ heavy nets around, and a number of street performers offerin’ a lively mood to the otherwise mundane atmosphere of the harbor.

It was a surprisingly busy day in this part of town, and...if I was bein’ honest...I felt a tad nervous jumping into the heart of it all. There were just so many people; so many civilized folks who were unlike me that...I felt incredibly outta place here.

But I supposed I’d have to get used to it sooner or later. This was the beginning of my new life, after all...and I was old enough to know that nothin’ worthwhile ever came easy.

“Here,” I said, offering Eddie a hand as he stepped out of the stagecoach. “Lemme help.”

The pianist gave me a humorous grin. “Such a gentleman.”

I chuckled, duckin’ my head as I followed him out. “What can I say? Civilization’s gettin’ to me.”

Swiftly makin’ our way outta the confines of the stagecoach’s limited space, Eddie and I set out for our ship as we slithered through the bustling streets of the harbor, doin’ our absolute best not to crash into other people.

Unlike the serene nature of the countryside, this place was pretty much filled to the brim with commotion. Folks were movin’ around so fast that they practically made the signposts twirl, and sometimes, there’d be nothing but a tornado of leaves whirling in their wake.

It was like people couldn’t even spare two seconds to take a breath. They were just completely focused on the here and now, and didn’t even bother to take in their surroundings. It was...kinda sad to witness, in a way. Though, I guessed that was just the nature of civilization.

There was no time for the present. Only for the future.

Stickin’ to the sides of the pavements, the two of us made haste for a ship at the very end of the harbor called “The Pytheas.” It was a gargantuan thing stacked with so many massive crates and strange-lookin’ machines that it made you wonder how the hell it managed to stay afloat.

There were all sorts of people gatherin’ on the pier as well. Even from here, I could see groups of businessmen discussing deals in many different languages, professors pondering what awaited them on the other side of the sea, artists sketchin’ down the vast landscape to combat their boredom, and immigrants huddling up with their families. It was like seein’ a miniature version of the entire world stuffed onto one strip of land.

And then...there was me and Eddie.

Just a musician and an outlaw.

A pianist and a gunslinger.

Two lost souls who were once crippled by their own fears, but learned to become whole after they found each other.

We was nothin’ but a pair of ordinary men in the eyes of these people. Just two regular guys goin’ about their business on a regular day. But if they were to look a bit more closely -- I guaranteed they’d be able to see the convoluted stories hiding inside.

They were written in the lines on our faces, in the depths of our eyes, in the steps we took. It was a silent journey that spoke for itself, and I doubted that either of us would ever forget it, despite leavin’ that entire ordeal behind.

We had a plethora of memories lingering in the west, after all. Simply by gazin’ at the wilderness hiding behind the city’s skyline, I was practically able to relive every moment of my past.

From the day Dutch and Hosea found me, to our endless adventures riding across the open deserts, to the times I wasted fallin’ in love with Mary, to the many years I spent mourning Isaac and Eliza...

All the friends that I buried along the way, the anger and grief I experienced, the enemies we gunned down, the nights we spent sharin’ stories around the campfire, the days where I wondered if I’d live long enough to see the next sunrise...

It all flooded my head at once. Within the span of a few seconds, I watched my whole life unfold in front of me like a person rapidly flipping through the pages of a book, and for the first time in years, I could sense genuine tears welling up in my eyes from all the emotions that were racin’ through me.

It was just...surreal to think about how far I had come. How much I’d grown. How much things had changed.

Not too many years ago, I was nothin’ but a sad, lost, and lonely man who thought he’d die long before the age of gunslingers withered away -- but now... there was an entirely new world waitin’ for me on the other side of the ocean. As well as a new home.

And so -- with one last glance over my shoulder -- I turned around and savored the reminiscent view standin’ behind me as it slowly disappeared in the distance, waving goodbye like an old friend bidding me farewell.

I had no idea if I’d ever return to this country, or if I’d ever get the closure I desired with John and Dutch...but one thing I did know was that America would always be home to me.

No matter the amount of pain or heartache that lingered in the shadows of our gang’s actions, there was just some sort of connection between me and this place that nothing could sever.

For the sake of buildin’ a peaceful home with Eddie, I would comply and live in a civilized world away from crime, but deep down -- I knew damn well that I’d always be an outlaw for life.

It was just who I was, and it was the thing that turned me into this man today.

I was Arthur Morgan, and this was the end of my story in the Wild West.

“...Goodbye, Dutch.” I whispered softly to myself, turnin’ on my heel to follow Eddie to the ship.

There were only a few minutes left until departure now, and part of me grew weary just thinkin’ about the lengthy journey ahead -- but regardless of how long it took for us to reach England, or how tiring the trip would be, I was at peace knowing that we had finally achieved the dream we fought so long to reach.

Eddie and I were officially free men from this day forward...and we had acquired the one treasure Dutch never found. The only luxury that no amount of money could buy.

The one thing that only ever truly mattered to me.

Redemption.

[carpefuckingomnia]

Look, black is beautiful, black is excellent

Black is pain, black is joy, black is evident

It's workin' twice as hard as the people you know you're better than

'Cause you need to do double what they do so you can level them

Black is so much deeper than just African-American

Our heritage been severed, you never got to experiment

With family trees, 'cause they teach you 'bout famine and greed

And show you pictures of our fam on their knees

Tell us we used to be barbaric, we had actual queens

Black is watchin' child soldiers gettin' killed by other children

Feelin' sick, like, "Oh shit, this could have happened to me"

Your mummy watchin' tellin' stories 'bout your dad and your niece

The blacker the berry the sweeter the juice

A kid dies, the blacker the killer, the sweeter the news

And if he's white you give him a chance, he's ill and confused

If he's black he's probably armed, you see him and shoot

Look, black is growin' up around the barbershop

Mummy sayin', "Stay away from trouble, you're in yard a lot"

Studying for ages, appreciatin' the chance you got

'Cause black is in your blood, and you ain't even got the heart to stop

Black is steppin' in for your mother because your father's gone

And standin' by your children when you haven't proven karma wrong

Black is doin' all of the above then goin' corner shoppin'

Tryna help a lady cross the road to have her walkin' off

Black is growin' up around your family and makin' it

Then being forced to leave the place you love because there's hate in it

People say you fake the shit, never stayed to change the shit

But black is bein' jealous, you'd be dead if you had stayed in it

Black is strugglin' to find your history or trace the shit

You don't know the truth about your race 'cause they erasin' it

Black has got a sour fuckin' flavour, here's a taste of it

But black is all I know, there ain't a thing that I would change in it

Look, black ain't just a single fuckin' colour, man there's shades to it

Her hair's straight and thick but mine's got waves in it

Black is not divisive, they been lyin' and I hate the shit

Black has never been a competition, we don't make this shit

Black is deadly

Black is when you're freezin' in your home and you can't get sleep but never feelin' empty

'Cause you got 20 cousins in your country living stress-free

Walkin' for their water, daughter wrapped inside a bed sheet

Black is distant

It's representin' countries that never even existed while your grandmother was livin'

Black is my Ghanaian brother readin' into scriptures

Doin' research on his lineage, findin' out that he's Egyptian

Black is people namin' your countries on what they trade most

Coast of Ivory, Gold Coast, and the Grain Coast

But most importantly to show how deep all this pain goes

West Africa, Benin, they called it slave coast

Black is so confusin', 'cause the culture? They're in love with it

They take our features when they want and have their fun with it

Never seem to help with all the things we know would come with it

Loud in our laughter, silent in our sufferin'

Black is bein' strong inside and facing defeat

Poverty made me a beast, I battled the law in the streets

We all struggled, but your struggle ain't a struggle like me

Well how could it be when your people gave us the odds that we beat?

I mean, fuckin' hell, what about our brothers that are stuck in jail?

That couldn't bust a bell, they held a bird and gotta live with it

Black is bein' guilty until proven that you're innocent

Black is sayin', "Free my fucking niggas stuck inside in prison cells"

They think it's funny, we ain't got nothin' to say to them

Unconditional love is strange to them; it's amazin' 'em

Black is like the sweetest fuckin' flavour, here's a taste of it

But black is all I know, there ain't a thing that I would change in it

[papa-rhys]

Benevolence - Preview

Here’s Chapter One of my novel for your viewing pleasure. 

It’s only my first draft so it’s subject to change! Enjoy!

The papers have spelled my name wrong again – damn mess that they are. 

It ain’t like “Olivia Sullivan” is difficult and if they was strugglin’ so damn much, they coulda just used “Black Olli” like everyone else. They say I got some Indian in me, that it’s what makes me so “savage” in nature, but I don’t know if that’s true or not and I don’t reckon the press knows a damn thing they’re talking about when it comes to Indians. To be honest, I don’t know how much of anything them papers say about me is true, these days.  

Probably most of it. 

When you live the kinda life I live, you get in the habit of forgettin’ all the awful things you do. All the dead faces you leave behind ya tend to blur into one, and after a decade or so, the papers can say anything they damn well please about you ‘cause you can’t remember enough of what you’ve done to confirm nor deny it.  

Readin’ through the paper feels like I’m reading a Penny Dreadful, only I’s the subject of it. I ain’t got the foggiest idea whether or not I killed that man like they’s sayin’, just like I ain’t got the foggiest whether or not I got Indian blood tricklin’ through my veins. But I guess there could have been a point between the seventh and eighth shot of whiskey a few nights back where I did indeed bounce that man’s head off the edge of the bar and kill him. I suppose it does align with my reputation. 

I close the paper and fold it in half, slapping it onto the wooden bench beside me and getting to my feet. It’s a painfully hot day in El Santo, New Mexico - hotter than usual, even. The black shirt and jeans I’m wearin’ ain’t helpin’ matters, but us Sullivan’s always did value style over comfort. Stupid, really. Good fashion sense never did much to help ‘em when The Law came chargin’ into camp. The thought makes my skin flush even hotter and I shake it off. God, I’m achin’ for a little rain. 

Folk around town are busying themselves, taking advantage of the sunshine overhead. Cowboys mosey on by, dipping in and out of the saloon despite it only being just past ten in the morning. The ladies are dressed in their cotton dresses and holding their lace parasols, chatterin’ to each other about their god-awful husbands. 

Ma ‘n’ Pa always reckoned I’d make some feller a fine wife. And I suppose I would. If I wanted to. But I reckon I’m built for the life I got. I can shoot, I can brawl, I can lie, and I can damn well rob a feller blind. The Lord didn’t design me for cookin’ and cleanin’ and watchin’ babes in their cradles. I ain’t no damn maid and it’d be a waste of all I’m good at if I settled for bein’ one. I don’t gotta be cooped up in no farm house in order to show a man I love him.

I head for the general store and pick up a few supplies for the road. Baked beans, jerky, some cartridges for every one of my weapons, and a few carrots and corn cobs for my horse, Monty. It’s a long day’s ride ahead of us until we get into the next town over and I reckon we’ll both be beat by mid-afternoon and dyin’ for a good bit of grub. 

“Hey there, boy,” I coo, patting him on the side of the neck as he huffs. There’s a funny lookin’ guy standing outside the saloon a little ways up the street that’s been eyeing me since I went into the general store and I reckon I’ve been made. But I ain’t too keen on letting him know that I’m aware of him, so I keep my head tilted down as I fuss over Monty a little more. “We should make a move, I reckon,” I tell him, earning a shake of the head from him. “Yeah, well I’s the boss, not you.” 

I untwist the reins from the hitching post and mount up, keeping my head forwards as I bring Monty around and keeping my eyes off the man outside the saloon. I observe him from the corner of my eye on the way past – black hat, long black coat coverin’ a brown shirt, and gold capped boots. Ain’t no mistakin’ who he is. 

He’s a Red Wolf. Hell, I’d bet my life on it. 

I dig my heels in and Monty starts into a trot; his hoofs thudding rhythmically against the dirt road. I don’t want the Wolf to know I’s made him, but I sure as hell do want him to be able to catch up with me farther along the trail that leads outta town. He’ll follow, for certain. He wouldn’t be able to resist a young woman  and besides, he knows exactly who I am and Red Wolf creed says he’s gotta kill me soon as he recognises me. Here’s hopin’ he abides and manages to catch me.  

Otherwise, how else will I be able to kill him? 

I pull the reins steady and Monty comes to a stop at the side of the trail just before a winding tree. We’re about two miles outta town now and it’s one of the last few trees around before the scenery fades into open land, offering nothing but sky and half-dead grass either side of the trail.  

I’m outta my saddle in a split second, hopping down onto the dirt and securing Monty’s reins to the tree. He gets skittish around gunfire. Not all that useful for an outlaw, but he’s a good boy and does what he’s told, so I’ve kept him all these years regardless. He gets antsy as the man from town appears a ways down the trail and I lean against Monty with my elbow rested on the saddle and one boot crossed over the other, waiting for him to reach me. 

It takes a few minutes for him to catch up to me and for a moment I think he’s gonna keep ridin’ west, following the open road into the next town over; which would be a shame ‘cause I’m really in the mood for killin’. But he stops just ahead of me and drops down off his beige Arabian; his spurs clinking with the impact. 

He’s a few years older than me – maybe 30 ish – and his jaw is shadowed with a scruffy stubble that looks more than a few days overdue for a trim. There’s wrinkles in the corners of his eyes as he scowls at me and what’s visible of his cheeks between the wide-brimmed hat and the previously mentioned stubble is littered with scars. He makes his way towards me with his hands on his hips - flicking his coat open to flash me a glimpse at his twin pistols - and I turn to face him, lowering my arm to my side where my Colt sleeps, cradled against my hip. 

“Mornin’, Miss,” he says, nodding his head. He seems friendly enough but I know who he is. I know it’s feigned. That friendly neighbour act might work on cowboys and workin’ girls, but he ain’t foolin’ me and there’s no way he’d expect to given who I am and the history our clans got with each other. 

“Why don’t you go ahead and stop right where you stand, partner,” I tell him, stopping him in his tracks a few feet away. “I don’t reckon you’s as dumb as to not know you I am.” 

He smiles and his crooked, blackened teeth make my stomach churn a little. “I know’s exactly who you is, Miss Sullivan.” 

He dares to take another step – his hands still on his hips and his chest puffed out – and I draw as fast as the thought flits through my mind. Raisin’ a gun to a man is second nature to me. He chuckles and raises his hands, but not high enough. His chuckle stops and he draws too and in the blink of an eye, we’re both starin’ down the barrel of each other’s weapon.  

I fire first, but I don’t got any use for him if he’s dead, so I aim for the hand that holds his gun and blow a hole in his thumb, earning a roar from him. The pistol falls to the dirt and he stumbles and I’m on him in seconds; pouncing on him like a rabid dog. I’m straddling him now and he fights back until I clock him around the jaw three times with the butt of my Colt and he finally gives up. 

“Alright, alright, you made ya damn point,” he hisses, spitting a mouthful of blood into the dirt beside us. 

I grip him by the collar of his shirt, curling the fabric around my fingers and pulling tightly. “Who named The Sullivans?” I ask him. “Who told The Law where we was campin’?” 

He smirks up at me. “Your gaggle of inbred yeller-bellies had quite the bounty on yer heads,” he says. “Happens y’all just got sloppy.” 

I hit him again. “You know as well as I do that that ain’t true, so cut the shit ‘n’ give me the name of the Wolf who tipped ‘em off.” 

“I ain’t got –“ 

Another smack should do it. 

This time I angle my strike downwards and get him in the nose and the crunch it makes under the impact of my Colt is enough to damn near echo. It’d surely turn my stomach if I hadn’t done it a million times before.

He yells and his head flops back and for a second I’m worried I’s killed him, but he starts shakin’ his head and I reckon he don’t think his buddy is worth dyin’ for.  “Jacob Dixon,” he breathes, his head rolling on his shoulders and his eyelids fluttering. “Goes by ‘Dix’… he’s the feller who ratted ya damn gang out. Just… enough with the damn hittin’, girl.” 

“Where’s this feller at?” I ask. He shakes his head and swallows hard. “You tell me where he is ‘n’ I won’t bleed ya like a stuck pig,” I spit, my face inches away from his. 

“Don’t go pokin’ around for him,” he tells me. “You’ll only find stuff you didn’t wanna know.” 

“I swear to the heavens if you don’t tell me the location, I will kill you.” 

“Alright, alright… But if I tell you, you’ll let me go?” he asks, blood trickling into his mouth from his nostrils and spitting back up at me as he talks. 

“Sure, I’ll let ya go,” I tell him. “If you give me the location.” 

“We’re camped before the Arizona border. I don’t know the name of the place, just that it’s inside the boundary of the New Mexico Territory.” He coughs and splutters and spits another mouthful of blood. “We’s been there a few weeks.” 

“How many of ya?” 

“I thought was gonna let me –“ 

I’m runnin’ real low on patience and the thought of a bullet carvin’ a path through this guy’s skull is lookin’ real temptin’. “How many?” I roar. 

“Five of us! The rest of the fellers is spread out in different states. Boss wanted us coverin’ the way from here to California. Said you was gonna be comin’ for him ‘n’ didn’t want ya to get closer than he’d like.” 

I push myself up onto my feet and dust myself off, smacking the dirt away from my knees as he flops onto the floor. “What’s ya name?” I ask him, fixin’ the position of my hat. 

“Tommy,” he croaks, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and looking at the blood smeared across it. 

“Thanks for yer help, Tommy,” I tell him, raising my Colt and bringing the sights flush with his forehead. “But I never liked folk who grovel.” 

“No, wait, I –“ 

With a squeeze of the trigger, there’s one less Wolf in the pack. One less name on my list. Tommy’s blood seepin’ into the dirt of the trail beneath him, the liquid poolin’ around his head and creepin’ its way towards the spot where his Arabian had stood before takin’ off at the sound of the gunshot. His eyes are still wide with fear, his arms and legs sprawled out in every direction, and I feel damn good about it.

I wipe my mouth and then raise my neckerchief to my forehead to mop up the beads of sweat I’d earned in the sun-doused scuffle. Stuffing my Colt back into its holster, I head for Monty, who huffs and stomps at the gunshot that surely rings in his ears as much as it does in mine. “There, there, boy. It’s alright,” I tell him, placing my hand to his nose and soothing him. “I’s got us a lead on that rat of ours.”

[undeservingofyou]

black.

Look, black is beautiful, black is excellent 

Black is pain, black is joy, black is evident 

Workin' twice as hard as the people you know you're better than 

'Cause you need to do double what they do so you can level them 

Black is so much deeper than just African-American 

Our heritage been severed, you never got to experiment 

With family trees, 'cause they teach you 'bout famine and greed 

Show you pictures of our fam on their knees 

Tell us we used to be barbaric, we had actual queens 

Black is watchin' child soldiers gettin' killed by other children 

Feelin' sick so quick, this could have happened to me 

Mummy watchin' tellin' stories 'bout your dad and your niece, listen 

The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice 

Kid dies, the blacker the killer, the sweeter the news 

And if he's white, you give him a chance, he's ill and confused 

If he's black he's probably armed, you see him and shoot, look 

Black is growin' up around the barbershop Mummy sayin', 

"Stay away from trouble, you’re in yard a lot" 

Studying for ages, appreciatin' the chance you got 

'Cause black is in your blood, and you ain't even got the heart to stop 

Black is steppin' in for your brothers because your father's gone 

Standin' by your children when you haven't proven karma wrong 

Black is doin' all of the above, then go and corner shop 

Tryna help a lady cross the road to have her walkin' off 

Black is growin' up around your family and makin' it 

Being forced to leave the place you love because there's hate in it 

People say you're faking it, never stay for change in it 

But black is bein' jealous, you'd be dead if you had stayed in it 

Black is strugglin' to find your history and tracing it 

You don't know the truth about your race 'cause they're erasin' it 

Black has got a really sour flavour, here's a taste of it 

But black is all I know, there ain't a thing that I would change in it 

Look, black isn't a single colour, man, there's shades to it 

Her hair's straight and thick, but mine's got waves in it 

Black is not divisive, they been lyin' and I'm hating it 

Black has never been a competition, we're all making it 

Black is deadly 

Black is when you're freezin' in your home and you can't get sleep, but never feelin' empty 

'Cause you got twenty cousins in your country living stress-free 

Walkin' for their water, daughter wrapped inside a bedsheet 

Black is distant 

It's representin' countries that never even existed while your grandmother was livin' 

Black is my Ghanaian brother readin' into scriptures 

Doin' research on his lineage, findin' out that he's Egyptian 

Black is people namin' your countries on what they trade most 

Coast of Ivory, Gold Coast, and the Grain Coast 

But most importantly to show how deep all this pain goes 

West Africa, Benin, they called it slave coast 

Black is so confusin', 'cause the culture? They're in love with it 

Take our features when they want and have their fun with it 

Never seem to help with all the things we know would come with it 

Loud in our laughter, silent in our sufferin' 

Black is bein' strong inside and facing defeat 

Poverty made me a beast, I battled the law in the streets 

We all struggled, but your struggle ain't a struggle like me 

Well how could it be when your people gave us the odds that we beat? 

I mean, bloody hell, what about our brothers that are stuck in jail? 

That couldn't bust a bail, they held a bird and gotta live with it 

Black is bein' guilty until proven that you're innocent 

Black is sayin', "Free all my people stuck inside them prison cells" 

Think it's funny, we ain't got nothin' to say to them 

Unconditional love is strange to them, it's amazin' 'em 

Black has really got the sweetest flavour, here's a taste of it 

But black is all I know, there ain't a thing that I would change in it 

It is racist whether or not it feels racist 

The truth is our Prime Minister is a real racist 

They say, "You should be grateful we're the least racist" 

I say the least racist is still racist 

And if somebody hasn't said it 

Equality is a right, it doesn't deserve credit 

Now if you don't want to get it, then you're never gonna get it H

ow the news treats Kate versus how they treated Megan 

Rest in Peace Jack Merritt, you're my brother in arms 

There's tears in our eyes and love in our hearts 

We never had the same background, culture, colour, or past 

But you devoted your life to giving others a chance 

And for that, I'm so taken aback 

Because it gave us all a voice, I have to say it for Jack 

As a young black man seeing paper and crack 

Giving tougher sentences, it's just papering cracks 

All he would want is unity, funding for communities 

Equal opportunities, people under scrutiny 

No more immunity, way less hatred 

More conservation, less deforestation 

We want rehabilitation, now that would be amazing 

But Grenfell victims still need accommodation 

And we still need support for the Windrush generation 

Reparations for the time our people spent on plantations 

I'm done

[l0-f1g0dd3ss3s]

1977 interview with patti smith

concentrating on the god within[from "Patti Smith Peaking: The Infinite Possibilities of a Woman," by Marc Stevens and Diana Clapton, Club Quest, January 1977]

She hurtles into the room, a breathless tousled angel with a face out of Edvard Munch. She carries with her the karmic electricity of the genuine superstar, the true heroine. Her energy is so untrammeled, it fills the room; it pushes us against the wall in its intensity. Those wondrous salamander eyes move slowly, almost supernaturally. They embrace the whole of the activity around her. Her Mary Janes, her 4th grade red sox, the fine, strange jewelry lashed to her writs. The arching, artist's fingers, almost too much purity and reality and talent. Things become improbable. She is gracious, considerate, the essence of feminine charm, all the mannerisms of the sexually self-confident woman, the emotional largesse of the truly arrivée. There must be something bad about Patti Smith. Well, she doesn't play the guitar that well -- yet. She has the eerie beauty she treasures in those old Italian or French films, the mantle of mystery of the steadily evolving female unafraid to declare herself a fully sexual individual. She speaks of her own erotic feelings with candor and honesty. Whoever said that rock was really sex with all the rhythms down -- certainly had Patti in the wildest corner of his mind. Patti:  It's either not hectic at all or it's totally hectic. It's like the ocean, y'know, a big, big wave comes in.. I just tune it in. It starts out, there's a lot of static, like the radio, and you go like this [twists imaginary knobs] and it comes in. That's like the ocean -- not so bad. I don't care if there's a lot of action going on as long as I can tune it in.

CQ:  You were supposed to be out at the ocean this weekend -- on Fire Island.

Patti:  Oh, yeah, but I had too much work to do. Cutting the new album took about 3 weeks, but the cover and the liner notes...

CQ:  The record [Radio Ethiopia] seems a lot more lyrical than Horses.

Patti:  It's got a lot more presence. We've been on the road for a year. The first record really reflected exactly what we knew then. Being alone by ourselves, fantasizing, playing in small clubs, the fragile adoration of the people who believe in ya. But then you go on the road for a year and it's real maniac. There aren't 40 people who love you but 4,000. You have to really project. You can't be as fragile. It's the power of projection that you learn on the road. So the new record reflects what we learned from the kids. Before I was a fan, an artist, or whatever. If I'm a fan of anybody these days, I'm a fan of my audiences.

CQ:  But 4,000 people means performing in large halls. Can you handle it?

Patti:  I like performing anywhere there's a lot of energy. Like Jesus says, when two people are gathered together in my name. Well, I feel the same way. I like performing in an interview situation or for 4,000 people or in a club. As long as all the energy is directed toward the same place. When I perform some place and the people have their heads into what they want to see, like something artistic, it's a drag. But when they're loose...

CQ:  How loose do they get at your concerts?

Patti:  Real loose. Jumpin' up on stage and grabbin' me -- everything.

CQ:  Do you get bothered?

Patti:  I like it. It's rock 'n' roll. If nobody leapt on the stage and cried 'Fuck me' ... I mean, I've seen Privilege; I'd do it. In the old days, especially when I'd go to a concert -- Johnny Winter, the Stones or Hendrix, I'd scream and get beat up and try to get on the stage. I got stomped by Grateful Dead guys for try'na get on the stage when they were on. And my foot got broken with the Stones.

CQ:  How about violence directed toward you personally?

Patti:  Oh sure, I've been attacked. After the show the kids come back, but I understand it, y'know? It's not that I want it to happen, but when it does, I get into it. I can dig it. It's a nightmare, but a nightmare I can relate to. I know what it's about. I've seen those Elvis Presley movies where the girls were try'na pull his clothes off. Hey, I know what rock 'n' roll is all about. I came into this thing with my eyes open. I didn't come in thinking that people should treat me like some precious jewel because I write poetry. I came in fully open to anything rock 'n' roll has to offer.

CQ:  Do you get stage fright?

Patti:  Nah, real excited. I only get nervous if it's real quiet out there. That makes me suspicious. But if the kids are screamin' and carryin' on, I get real excited. I was so thrilled when I did the Schaefer Music Festival in Central Park, I thought my heart was gonna burst.

CQ:  Do your fans give you expensive gifts -- say, a half ounce of cocaine?

Patti:  I've had ounces. And grass. But one time a guy sent me a letter. His name was Timothy -- no number or last name or nothin' -- and two $50 bills in it. Brand new, and I couldn't give 'em back. Free money.

CQ:  Have you changed since you began making it?

Patti:  I feel stronger. I feel like I've been doin' it all my life. It's still art, and I been doin' art since I was 4 years old. Rock 'n' roll has now entered the art spectrum. And because of that, I put the same energies into working within the context of rock 'n' roll as I did when I wanted to be a sculptor.

CQ:  You mentioned that you've been on the road here and abroad. Does travel inspire you to create art?

Patti:  O yeah, I been to Paris about 10 times. To get inspiration I got to a bunch of places -- to Jim Morrison's grave in Pere Lachaise, that's the first place I go. In fact, our first European tour was really cool because they had this white Aston- Martin or somethin' waitin' for me. You know, I don't get treated that way in America. In America I'm lucky if I get a station wagon. I'm just sayin' that I happened to be treated like a princess in Paris. So anyway, I had this white car and they said, where do you wanna go? And I said, to see Jim Morrison. So they took me to the graveyard in the big white car. I remember the first time I went, I was all by myself in the pouring rain. Really fucked up and the mud was splattering all over me. I was in this white car smoking a cigarette.

CQ:  Just you and the chauffeur.

Patti:  Yeah, me and him and a pair of dark glasses and a pack of cigarettes.

CQ:  Do you smoke a lot?

Patti:  I don't inhale so it doesn't hurt my lungs. I just like the look. really on top of it, I like that Jeanne Moreau woman-with-her-cigarette look. It's all for show. My own show.

CQ:  White cars, chauffeurs -- is power important to you?

Patti:  Power? Not like dictatorial power. Power to initiate change, to affect people in a really spiraling way. To be a catalyst. Just like when I worked at Scribner's book store for 5 years. A kid would come in and want Rod McKuen stuff. To me power was bein' able to talk to that kid, and he'd leave with Malderer, Rimbaud, Dylan Thomas. Now I feel I'm doin' the same kinda thing.

CQ:  It was about this time that Robert Mapplethorpe gave you your start -- paid for that first book of poetry.

Patti:  No, he didn't give me the start that way. He did lend me the money for my single. But he did much more than that. I was 19 years old, really shattered. I'd been through a lot of hard times. I had all this powerful energy, and I didn't know how to direct it. Robert really disciplined me to direct all my mania -- all my telepathic energy -- into art. Concentrating on the God within, or at least a creative demon. I was really emotionally fucked up.

CQ:  Are you evened out now?

Patti:  Oh yeah, I mean, I go through pain, but I try to translate everything into work. I'm almost 30 and I've been through so much stuff. Every time I go through something new, I have so much scar tissue that I suffer pain, but it doesn't take me so long to get back on my feet. I can get back on top real fast. I'm in the ring! Y'know when you're an artist an' you're like, strugglin', nobody cares. You get beat down; you stay down for a while. But when you're in the middle of the ring, you gotta get up fast because there's all these people watchin'. You don't have time. You know technology is 50% of rock 'n' roll -- the magic, the art, the performance. If you don't have good technicians and a strong road crew who are devoted and believe in you and protect you, you're totally naked.

CQ:  But the spotlight's really on you. You're the one who has to deliver.

Patti:  But it's what helps a performer stay on top, like a boxer with his trainer there. You have to know that these people are behind you. Then, when you really start to break and it's happening, a whole new kind of energy is created around you. And if you're smart, it'll make you a stronger person.

CQ:  But other rock stars had the technology going for them but couldn't channel the break into a new kind of energy.

Patti:  I was lucky. I've never been real fucked up on drugs. I knew Janis real well. She was so fragile, so emotional, a lot like, say, my mother. I mean we're all emotional. But you can't let your emotions consume you. If you can't transcend that emotion, into work, then you can't do anything. I'm real emotional. I mean if I'm really fucked up and cryin' sittin' in a room . . .

CQ:  And drugs and booze only make it worse.

Patti:  I use drugs to work. I never use them to escape or for pleasure. I use people. If I'm real depressed, I have some real wonderful friends. When you turn to drugs, all you're doing is turning inside, anyway. When I'm in trouble or emotionally fucked up, I don't wanna come to me. I wanna go to somebody else. I don't wanna look in a mirror. I only use drugs for construction. It's like one of my architectural tools now. I don't go to a party and get all fucked up. Or sit in a hotel room all sad and messed up and take drugs.

CQ:  But enough rock stars did use drugs as an escape. Now they're dead.

Patti:  I'm not makin' a platform about it. I'm just sayin' for me, personally, I think drugs are sacred and should be used for work. That's what I believe in. Drugs have a real shamanistic value. I can handle drugs. I've never had a problem.

CQ:  Some New York discos are getting pretty loose in terms of drug tolerance. Have you noticed?

Patti:  I can't go. I'm a great dancer, I love to dance, but when I go to discotheques, people talk to me so much that I can't. It's like Edith Piaf. She was very religious but she didn't go to church, because everybody looked at her.

CQ:  Judy Garland couldn't eat in a restaurant for the same reason. But are you that bothered?

Patti:  Oh, I eat like an animal. I come from a big family. I'm used to bein' watched. Here's what I don't like: If I'm in a certain mood and I feel pissed off or crazy and I exude that, I want people to understand it. The only times I get pissed off are when I'm walkin' down the street and someone wants to talk. I say, "Look, just trust me. I'm fucked up now; I can't talk to you. I need you. Thank you believing in me but..." And when they keep right on botherin' me, I say finally, "Look -- I don't need ya. Go away. You don't understand. Don't buy my records!"

CQ:  Do you think about equality for yourself?

Patti:  No, I don't wanna be equal with anybody. I wanna be above equal. I don't think most people are equal to me. I'd like to communicate with everybody; I'd like to do something universal, I'd like to have the hit record of the world. But that's not the same as being equal. Women compete with women; it's not all men. When I was sellin' books at Scribner's there were stupid women that were older than me, and they got paid more just 'cause they were older. You can go on forever with that shit. So you fight. I don't think fighting is bad. People get too much of what they want and they loose the fight in them.

CQ:  Should you always keep battling to be the best?

Patti:  Being on top is not the precedent. It's that I am capable of making it to the top of the tower. Why should I settle for the 26th Floor? I don't set limitations.

CQ:  You seem very free as if limitations are beside the point. You seem unencumbered by race, color, creed, gender. The 100% natural Patti Smith, no additives, no preservative, no makeup.

Patti:  Oh listen, I buy Vogue. The other night I was really depressed and got into a taxi and went to a newsstand and bought, like, this $10 magazine of Paris fashions. Fantastic photography. I love silk raincoats, but I don't wear makeup. I can't stand nothin' on my face. It's a phobia. It's not a platform.

CQ:  Do you like leather?

Patti:  Oh yeah, sometimes. It depends on the rhythm of the night. I'm like a changeling. Fickle. I might wear all leather, and then I might wear a fucked up little black dress. Plus I got a lot of cool T-shirts.

CQ:  How do you feel about your body?

Patti:  I'm an artist. I'm not ashamed of my body. I've been an artist's model for years, and people have been photographing my body nude since I was 16. I have no shame. Doing rock 'n' roll, I'm so naked now.

CQ:  Do you ornament yourself as a sex object, the way other women might spend hours before a mirror?

Patti:  Well, I'm a very sexual person. Pornography, eroticism -- that's what I work on in private. None of that has been published yet. I'm still workin' on it. Rock 'n' roll is the most important thing right now. Pornography has yet to see its day -- really high class pornography. But it's something I think about all the time. Pornography linked with elegance and grace and intelligence.

CQ:  But pornography as art is entirely a personal choice, completely individual. What form of expression would you take in creating erotic art?

Patti:  I feel I'm involved in it right now, at least as much as I know how, on stage. I've been accused of everything including masturbation. And I do come on stage. Almost every night, I come on stage. Sex -- coming -- is about concentration. I can come while I'm writing, if I'm really there. Orgasm is peaking your concentration.

CQ:  Is that an end for you? Do you work consciously for that?

Patti:  Well, any woman is capable of multiple orgasms. What I mean is, a woman can come all day. Women don't realize how heavy this is. When I first realized what coming meant -- that I could come 20 times if I could come once, over and over again like the ocean...even self-induced...I'm not necessarily talkin' about sex now.

CQ:  But even now, there are objections to your lyrics.

Patti:  My single My Generation / Gloria says "My Generation contains language which might be objectionable." To who? 'Fuck' and 'shit' are American slang.

CQ:  But you can get away with it on stage.

Patti:  Yeah, but remember Jim Morrison was locked up for using 'fuck' and so was Country Joe. And Jim pulled his pants down -- so what? Now we have Broadway shows where the cast is naked all the time. He did it once and was thrown in the slammer. And he was a genius. His death made me sadder than anyone's. He wasn't done. He was just on the threshold of being a really great poet. Now, Hendrix, he was so out there with such furious physical energy, he just died. Morrison was much sadder. He was also desperate. Rock 'n' roll was so new then. It was so heavy. There was no precedent for Jim Morrison. it's a lot different for me. I've profited from the fact that he came first.

*      *      *      *      *

Can time cycles be divorced from reincarnation theories? Is Patti Smith Jim Morrison? Copyright © Marc Stevens & Diana Clapton 1977

[lyrics-plant-blog]

Dave Lyrics-Black Lyrics

Dave Lyrics-Black Lyrics, Black Sang this song Which is very beautiful and lovely Dave song. Dave songs Lyrics is released on 2019. Dave Lyrics-Black song, If you want to be a singer,Sing this hot and lovely Dave Lyrics which is sang by your favorite singer Black.Dave Lyrics-Black Lyrics

Dave-Black lyrics

{Verse 1} Look, black is beautiful, black is excellent Black is pain, black is joy, black is evident Workin’ twice as hard as the people you know you’re better than ‘Cause you need to do double what they do so you can level them Black is so much deeper than just African-American Our heritage been severed, you never got to experiment With family trees, ’cause they teach you ’bout famine and greed Show you pictures of our fam on their knees Tell us we used to be barbaric, we had actual queens Black is watchin’ child soldiers gettin’ killed by other children Feelin’ sick so quick, this could have happened to me Mummy watchin’ tellin’ stories ’bout your dad and your niece, listen The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice Kid dies, the blacker the killer, the sweeter the news And if he’s white, you give him a chance, he’s ill and confused If he’s black he’s probably armed, you see him and shoot, look {Verse 2} Black is growin’ up around the barbershop Mummy sayin’, “Stay away from trouble, you’re in yard a lot” Studying for ages, appreciatin’ the chance you got ‘Cause black is in your blood, and you ain’t even got the heart to stop Black is steppin’ in for your brothers because your father’s gone Standin’ by your children when you haven’t proven karma wrong Black is doin’ all of the above, then go and corner shop Tryna help a lady cross the road to have her walkin’ off Black is growin’ up around your family and makin’ it Being forced to leave the place you love because there’s hate in it People say you’re faking it, never stay for change in it But black is bein’ jealous, you’d be dead if you had stayed in it Black is strugglin’ to find your history and tracing it You don’t know the truth about your race ’cause they’re erasin’ it Black has got a really sour flavour, here’s a taste of it But black is all I know, there ain’t a thing that I would change in it {Verse 3} Look, black isn’t a single colour, man, there’s shades to it Her hair’s straight and thick, but mine’s got waves in it Black is not divisive, they been lyin’ and I’m hating it Black has never been a competition, we’re all making it Black is deadly Black is when you’re freezin’ in your home and you can’t get sleep, but never feelin’ empty ‘Cause you got twenty cousins in your country living stress-free Walkin’ for their water, daughter wrapped inside a bedsheet Black is distant It’s representin’ countries that never even existed while your grandmother was livin’ Black is my Ghanaian brother readin’ into scriptures Doin’ research on his lineage, findin’ out that he’s Egyptian Black is people namin’ your countries on what they trade most Coast of Ivory, Gold Coast, and the Grain Coast But most importantly to show how deep all this pain goes West Africa, Benin, they called it slave coast Black is so confusin’, ’cause the culture? They’re in love with it Take our features when they want and have their fun with it Never seem to help with all the things we know would come with it Loud in our laughter, silent in our sufferin’ Black is bein’ strong inside and facing defeat Poverty made me a beast, I battled the law in the streets We all struggled, but your struggle ain’t a struggle like me Well how could it be when your people gave us the odds that we beat? I mean, bloody hell, what about our brothers that are stuck in jail? That couldn’t bust a bale, they held a bird and gotta live with it Black is bein’ guilty until proven that you’re innocent Black is sayin’, “Free all my people stuck inside them prison cells” Think it’s funny, we ain’t got nothin’ to say to them Unconditional love is strange to them, it’s amazin’ ’em Black has really got the sweetest flavour, here’s a taste of it But black is all I know, there ain’t a thing that I would change in it {Verse 4} It is racist whether or not it feels racist The truth is our Prime Minister is a real racist They say, “You should be grateful we’re the least racist” I say the least racist is still racist And if somebody hasn’t said it Equality is a right, it doesn’t deserve credit Now if you don’t want to get it, then you’re never gonna get it How the news treats Kate versus how they treated Megan Rest in Peace Jack Merritt, you’re my brother in arms There’s tears in our eyes and love in our hearts We never had the same background, culture, colour, or past But you devoted your life to giving others a chance And for that, I’m so taken aback Because it gave us all a voice, I have to say it for Jack As a young black man seeing paper and crack Giving tougher sentences, it’s just paper and cracks All he would want is unity, funding for communities Equal opportunities, people under scrutiny No more immunity, way less hatred More conservation, less deforestation We want rehabilitation, now that would be amazing But Grenfell victims still need accommodation And we still need support for the Windrush generation Reparations for the time our people spent on plantations I’m done

Dave Lyrics-Black Lyrics

Artist: Black

Album: Dave

Released: 2019

Genre: Hip-Hop/Rap

#lyricsplant #songslyrics #lyrics

[usuallyrics-blog]

Paranoid

New Lyrics has been published on usuallyrics.com https://usuallyrics.com/lyrics/paranoid/

Paranoid

Never know when someone comes and tries to take my life I’ve been sleepin’ with the .45 like every night In the whip I pray to God I don’t see flashin’ lights God damn, they right behind me And I wake up everyday I wake up every day With this anxiety And they know where I stay Got “Malone” on my plates And they followin’ me Two hundred bands under the floor of the kitchen A little more up in the walls and the ceilin’ Even family and friends started switchin’ Ever since I got that check, seen ’em itchin’

Eyes open, I see you, I’m watchin’ you, yeah More people wanna be, you don’t trust no one

Tell me why I can get no relief Wonderin’ when they’ll come for me A paranoid man makes paranoid plans I’ll do what I can, but it’s out of my hands Strugglin’ just to find my peace

Sometimes feel like I got no friends Can’t trust a soul, like I’m Snowden Right by the bed, keep it loaded Lord have mercy if they broke in I don’t ever sleep, yeah, I’m wide awake If you try to pull up to my place Beam is gonna hit you a mile away I promise, one of us gonna die today Helicopters in the sky No, he can’t escape the eyes Politicians and the lies Tell me, what’s the point in pickin’ sides?

Tell me why I can get no relief (I can’t get no sleep) Wonderin’ when they’ll come for me A paranoid man makes paranoid plans I’ll do what I can, but it’s out of my hands Strugglin’ just to find my peace

Ayy, mind is runnin’ all day Cost me more than money and I’m payin’ the price, yeah I ain’t goin’ nowhere Killin’ myself so I can make me a life, yeah Minute after minute, never had a limit Woke up every mornin’, knew that I just had to get it Windows always tinted, you ain’t lookin’ in it Either way, I know they’ll come for me again

Tell me why I can get no relief (I can’t get no sleep) Wonderin’ when they’ll come for me A paranoid man makes paranoid plans I’ll do what I can, but it’s out of my hands Strugglin’ just to find my peace

Who is Post Malone

Austin Richard Post – American rapper, singer, songwriter, producer and guitarist, known as Post Malone. His first song “White Iverson” was first recognized in February 2015. In August 2015, Malone signed a contract with Republic Records. December 9, 2016 released his studio album Stoney.

[americasweek-blog]

PARANOID - POST MALONE | Post Malone’s Beerbongs & Bentleys, this album is on course to have the biggest streaming week of ever.

As a whole, the album presents a diverse mix of big-name features to accompany Post on the tracks — Swae Lee, 21 Savage, Ty Dolla $ign, Nicki Minaj, G-Eazy and YG. While listening to Post Malone for long periods of time can sometimes result in all the songs blending together, these features help add nice variety to the album’s dynamic. His music is melodic trap, mostly, yet its rugged sensitivity is so universal that much of it could slot into rock or even country playlists, too. He only rarely uses guitars, but they’re often implied. And while there isn’t so much a hint of twang on his stature-cementing sophomore album, Beerbongs & Bentleys, based on his guttural, belted delivery on opener “Paranoid,” it’s not a stretch to imagine him doffing a cowboy hat for a cheering arena. It’s impossible to look away: Post Malone is one of the most commercially consequential stars in pop music. His new album, Beerbongs and Bentleys, imbues most of the tropes in contemporary swaggy rap music with an omnipresent breeziness that feels endemic to a luxurious West Coast life. With sing-song melodies and dreamy trap-lite beats, Post's songs re-package existent rap trends for people who might not particularly like rap at all – including, it would seem, the artist himself. Never know when someone comes and tries to take my life I've been sleepin' with the .45 like every night In the whip I pray to God I don't see flashin' lights God damn, they right behind me And I wake up everyday I wake up every day With this anxiety And they know where I stay Got "Malone" on my plates And they followin' me Two hundred bands under the floor of the kitchen A little more up in the walls and the ceilin' Even family and friends started switchin' Ever since I got that check, seen 'em itchin' Eyes open, I see you, I'm watchin' you, yeah More people wanna be, you don't trust no one Tell me why I can get no relief Wonderin' when they'll come for me A paranoid man makes paranoid plans I'll do what I can, but it's out of my hands Strugglin' just to find my peace Sometimes feel like I got no friends Can't trust a soul, like I'm Snowden Right by the bed, keep it loaded Lord have mercy if they broke in I don't ever sleep, yeah, I'm wide awake If you try to pull up to my place Beam is gonna hit you a mile away I promise, one of us gonna die today Helicopters in the sky No, he can't escape the eyes Politicians and the lies Tell me, what's the point in pickin' sides? Post Malone Tell me why I can get no relief (I can't get no sleep) Wonderin' when they'll come for me A paranoid man makes paranoid plans I'll do what I can, but it's out of my hands Strugglin' just to find my peace Ayy, mind is runnin' all day Cost me more than money and I'm payin' the price, yeah I ain't goin' nowhere Killin' myself so I can make me a life, yeah Minute after minute, never had a limit Woke up every mornin', knew that I just had to get it Windows always tinted, you ain't lookin' in it Either way, I know they'll come for me again Tell me why I can get no relief (I can't get no sleep) Wonderin' when they'll come for me A paranoid man makes paranoid plans I'll do what I can, but it's out of my hands Strugglin' just to find my peace ost Malone takes the top two spots on this week's Official Trending Chart with tracks from his new album beerbongs and bentleys. The US rapper released his second studio album last Friday (April 27) and is on course to debut at Number 1 on this week's Official Albums Chart. Leading the way on the trending Top 20 is album cut Paranoid, while Better Now is in second place. Both are on track to be the two highest new entries on this week's Official Singles Chart, currently places at Numbers 10 and 11 respectively. Tweets by PostMalone Read the full article

[aqlyrics-blog]

I’m On 3.0

New Post has been published on http://purelyrics.net/lyrics/trae-tha-truth-im-3-0/

I’m On 3.0

–Intro: Trae tha Truth– They say three times the charm, huh? I got ya

–Verse 1: Trae tha Truth– Yeah, all gas, fast, livin’ like somethin’ was speedin’ Ashy to classy, now I bless ’em like someone who sneezin’ I’m only here to give ’em pressure, bitch, picture me squeezin’ Against the world like I was Pac, wasn’t nobody believin’ Nothin’ deceivin’, know the truth, what the fuck you was needin’? Gather this evenin’ for the one, reputation was steamin’ Vision me gleamin’ from the mud, ain’t no point in you cleanin’ I’m motivation for the ones who nobody was feedin’ Automatic still give ‘e the same kick Started the sideline, now I’m starrin’ in game 6 Spit and make ’em replay it like they’re stuck on the same disk Work, I give ’em new, never stretchin’ the same brick Never the same chick, yeah I’m still on that same shit Cop me a new spot, tryna see where the plane fits Picture me with a crown, next to that where my name sits Galaxy in the ceilin’ just to show ’em what fame gets

–Verse 2: T.I.– In the heart of the jungle walkin’ through the fire You beat the charge if you show up with an alibi Runnin’ wild in the city, no direction All we know is get that dough, run up the checks and I’m self-made, wasn’t made for the military Get paid, dodge jail and the cemetery You better reach for the stars, take your best shot You let them haters kill your dream, your ass be assed out, forreal

–Verse 3: Dave East– Fill a Backwood with three nicks V6, cut the coke, remix Squeeze clips if ever we hear that he snitched I’m allergic to broke niggas in the precinct Found out my man was hatin’ and we ain’t speak since Barney’s, Nord’s can’t add up the paper we spent Tryna get drunk, I’m tokin’, I got a P bent I touched a million, ain’t sleep since, on defense

–Verse 4: Tee Grizzley– Freedom got me feelin’ like I flown up Out of prison, I ain’t think that I was blowin’ up Bunch of young rich niggas home, Rollies up Run up on us, watch how quick I’ll lift the toaster up Money got me feelin’ like you can’t control us Servin’, watchin’ out for the patrollers We used to play the game, play on your controllers Seen niggas get killed, heart froze up Picked up them choppas, got to go and duck Shootin’ everything up, it ain’t no ho in us Shit ain’t even last, free bro and them In Chicago I’m home, that’s on 4 and them Now I’m thinkin’ right ���cause I see I can make it Started, fam strugglin’, I couldn’t take it You got it out the mud, I got it out the pavement I used to miss payments, got the title, dare you try to take it

–Verse 5: Royce da 5’9″– Triple OG Never without vision or livin’ goal-free Never writ it though I’ve been out gettin’ this since ’03 Every little red cent and every dividend Has been counted and acquired Been legit, legal and been with the code I’m colder than December in the winter cold Look, I’ve been out givin’ canned goods and clothes To the children on 34th, real nigga, ugh

–Verse 6: Curren$y– I could put you on like socks Put you on like my watch Put you on the block, you can get that off Put you on the right lot, you can get that car Put you on like a fitted Put you on in my city Got the stars in the ceilin’, that’s the Wraith Got the top in the trunk, that’s a don I could give it to a nigga either way ’cause I’m on, L

–Chorus: D.R.A.M., Gary Clark, Jr., & Mark Morrison– I’m on, I’m on I’m on, I’m on I’m on, I’m on I’m on, yeah

–Verse 7: Snoop Dogg– Wakin’ up, feelin’ good, rollin’ through the neighborhood Do or die, every day, I lead ’em in a different way I don’t take no mess, get it off of my chest I’ma be dressed to impress, no stress, fresh Off the east side, Trae called me up and said “Unc I’ma need you on the b-side” So I came through, ah, mic checked, one-two, uh Gettin’ real funky, kinda smell like manure Eight cars, eight stars Return of the mack with these hot eight bars Flip through it, dip through it This is the shit that’ll make you get to it Break down, give it up, pour it up Now drink it up, roll it up Light it up, how you feel, y’all? See you in high definition with a mothafuckin’ real Dogg

–Verse 8: Fabolous– And every day I’m on And if I wasn’t, then why would I say I’m on? Get an Em and get low, that’s the Dre I’m on Get a B in blue, that’s the Jay I’m on They on sidelines watchin’ what play I’m on I call a audible, that’s what a baller do They keep askin’ me, is there more to do? Well ain’t water wet? Well then it’s more to get To my shorty’s set, and his shorty’s set This game ain’t over, it’s more quarters left I gotta rep my city, do it for the set I gotta talk my shit until I’m short of breath ‘Cause the world is full of niggas tryna off your on switch Tryna find a place that your coffin gon’ fit Me and my niggas on some confidente shit And we ain’t really feelin’ that off and on shit, I’m on

–Verse 9: Rick Ross– Maybach Music Chasin’ paper, starin’ out the casket Was a stunna ’til they froze all the assets Killers at your neck ’til you cut a check You talkin’ ’bout the money, nigga, where it’s at? Cars for my dogs, do it for the cause Right back here tomorrow, nigga, inshallah Prayin’ on my knees, do it for the keep Do it for the team, or I’ma let it be

–Verse 10: Chamillionaire– Chamilitary mane They thought I was done, but really I ain’t even stress it Just look at all the dough I got invested Two years and two billion dollar exits And now your relevance ain’t lookin’ that impressive (it ain’t) So glad we ain’t gotta chase relevance And I would like to thank the dead presidents For not livin’ forever-ever, forever-ever For all of them that passed, I’ve been gettin’ paid ever since Be okay, still paid, still stackin’ it We gon’ stay, courtside, that’s accurate We gon’ take the White House and get back in it They tried to turn us in to the villains like Colin Kaepernick But it’s okay, Gotham City needs savin’ You’ll fight back but I’ma shock ’em like Raiden I don’t fold, I don’t quit and don’t cave in Your worst nightmare, Freddy Krueger, Wes Craven

–Chorus: D.R.A.M., Gary Clark, Jr., & Mark Morrison– I’m on, I’m on I’m on, I’m on I’m on, I’m on I’m on, yeah

–Verse 11: G-Eazy– And I don’t think he really needs any coachin’ The weather’s gettin’ hot, Eazy Season approachin’ Came up and everybody sees the devotion I put the work in, I cause a commotion Whenever I’m in public, modern-day Elvis Hoes at my shows wanted selfies Made it here and ain’t nobody helped us Now I’m on a path to be great So they say, that’s what everybody tells us

–Verse 12: Styles P– Raised knee-deep in the dope game If I had two guns up then they was both aimed Saturday mornin’, I’m watchin’ Soul Train Eatin’ leftover food, lo-mein Now I’m plant-based, couple juice bars I’m on now, I don’t care if the stamp straight Told Trae I’m the truth like his name is Can show you what pain is, I’ll tell you what game is, ghost

–Chorus: D.R.A.M., Gary Clark, Jr., & Mark Morrison– I’m on, I’m on I’m on, I’m on I’m on, I’m on I’m on, I’m on I’m on, I’m on I’m on, I’m on

–Verse 13: E-40– Ayy Trae, let the councilor speak E-40! The best that ever did it and got away with it Let the councilor speak Not a septic tank, but I’m with the shit On my coast, I’m the topic and the subject Where I’m from it’s hella squeeze and heathens’ guns bust I wish that TD Jakes would come and pray for us They pimpin’, they flockin’, they like to steal and rob Backdoor their loved ones, inside job That’s why I stay with a stapler, a baby tomahawk Life or death situations in case I gotta pop I made a promise to the lord that I’ma keep it funky Never switched, never sell my soul for money I always been for right, maybe that’s what’s wrong Now I’m on like the most requested song Since a teen, I was doin’ my thing, magazine On the 1300 block, we had a machine I had a quarter mil’ at the age of 19 In the kitchin’ cookin’ birdies with no wings The best rappers come from the gravel, the slums Empty rack with spaghetti sauce jars rockin’ up crumbs It ain’t easy bein’ on for 30 years to see the glitter and glamour But not the blood, sweat and tears I’m an old ass youngsta, bruh, I’m a vet Sick Wid It Records, sellin’ cassettes before the internet I never made a mixtape in my life But one day I’ma do it for my fans, the people that saved my life I’m on

–Chorus: D.R.A.M., Gary Clark, Jr., & Mark Morrison– I’m on, I’m on I’m on, I’m on I’m on, I’m on I’m on, yeah