#I keep seeing people putting his name in asterisks like it's a slur

[yesterdayiwrote]

Also amazing to me that George and Lewis can turn up, spend the whole morning giggling and joking with each other, have an entire race where they have absolutely nothing to do with each other from lights out to chequered flag, and yet we still end up in a situation where George gets abuse for yet more unspecified conspiracy nonsense that is nothing to do with him...

[sippin-on-red-wine]

High Tide | Chapter 8: London

Title: High Tide, Chapter 8 | London Author: @sippin-on-red-wine Rating: No smut in this chapter, again, sorry! Characters: Ed Sheeran x Kendra (original female character) Word Count:  2,293

Kendra……

He’s not over her.

It was time to go home.

The realization was stark, black and white. And I had been here before. This crossroads. Leaving my old life behind, blessed with the means to be able to do so. It had been the best decision I could have made for myself, though I still carried some guilt around it.

It was an anxious, eerie kind of calm. My entire body was buzzing, but I somehow felt in control, cool and collected. I flitted about the penthouse gathering up my few personal belongings and stacked them neatly inside one of the paper bags that the concierge had brought me. I sat down at the dining table with my cell phone and began looking for flights home.

Should I talk to Ed? Say goodbye? I don’t think I could see him in person, but I could call. Or text. Yeah, maybe text. The hell am I going to say? Maybe I should just wait. Call him when I get home.

I went to the British Airlines website, since that was the line I came in on. I quickly navigated their little digital schedule, finding a flight to NYC that was leaving in about four hours. Okay, no problem, I can get a connecting flight from there. Or drive. How far is it? Six hours or so?

I added the flight to NYC and began the checkout process, the website asking for my personal information. I furiously tapped out my name, birth date, and address when it hit me:

I don’t have my passport.

It’s at Ed’s.

I paced around the suite, hand clutching at my forehead in the most cliche way possible. What do I do?

Options: Go get it yourself Call Lauren and ask her to bring it. Ha, like Ed would let her do that alone. Call and talk things over with Ed Why do all of these options include talking to or seeing Ed?

US Embassy it is.

All jokes aside, a funny thought began to creep into my head. My gut instinct was to run; but now, I couldn't. Not without facing him first. I'd just about hopped directly on a plane back home, but that was all out the window now.

What a cruel trick of fate.

I just wasn’t ready to speak to him. But that didn't mean I should never speak to him again. The thought of never seeing him throw his head back in laughter, or feeling his fingers lace up between mine… it was crushing.

I must have paced for a solid 30 minutes, debating back and forth with myself, before I came to a conclusion.

I’m going to stay. For now. I need some time.

Ed……

I woke on the living room sofa, morning light filtering in through the large panes of glass that lined the walls. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and reached forward to grab my glasses off of the coffee table. Everything came into focus; Lauren was sleeping on the adjacent couch. I guess she didn't want me to be alone.

I didn't want to wake her, it was because of me that she hadn't gone to sleep til nearly 4 in the morning. I slipped off the sofa and padded quietly upstairs to my bedroom, wanting to brush my teeth and have a scalding hot shower. The water won't wash the shame away, you prat.

My heart sunk impossibly lower as I came 'round the corner and saw Kendra's suitcase and bags leaning up against the wall. Not more than 24 hours ago, I had happily carried all of her things up here, at her request. “I cannot sleep on a couch again tonight, Ed, you're being silly.”

I'm sure she had to have felt a bit weird about staying here, the home I had shared with another woman. But she trusted me.

My fingers twitched, and I suddenly was craving a drink. Your coping mechanism.

No. You can’t do that again. What would she think?

I reached in my pocket, pulling out my phone. I checked, foolishly, to see if Kendra had tried to call or text me. Wishful thinking.

I didn’t want to fall into another spiral, or pity party. Booze had always been a coping method for me, but I just didn’t want to go there, not again. And so I opted for the next best thing -- work.

I tapped out Stu’s number and hit Call.

Kendra……

As it turns out, if you’re confused and upset and a bit melancholy, London is the place for you. It’s supportive, playing up that ‘melancholy’ bit with its eternal gray skies and foggy rain. But it’s wonderfully distracting, too. So much art and history and architecture and FOOD.

My tactic was simple: shoot for the least amount of downtime possible. And so, I established a routine. I’d wake, dress in a basic, cozy outfit, and head out the door. I stopped in a little corner cafe that was on the next block over, and grab coffee and a pastry to go. I jam-packed my days, moving from one thing to the next. I shopped, and rode a triple-decker tour bus, and spent hours wandering through museums. I walked through neighborhoods, explored markets, snapped photos of parks and buildings and cars and pedestrians. I’d tuck in to a pub for a comfort food meal, and then head back to my suite.

After the first couple of days, Ed had stopped calling and texting incessantly. He called once, each day, now. He always left a voice message… but I couldn’t bring myself to listen to any of them.

I knew that he was sorry, damn it, I just wish he hadn’t done anything to be sorry about. I was angry; angry with myself for letting my guard down in the first place… angry with Ed for putting a big asterisk on our time together. Would I ever be able to see him the same way again?

I had a lot of questions, and no answers. In a true-to-Kendra way, I was living in full-on denial land. Running from this place to the next, telling myself I was “exploring the city”, when in reality, I was just trying to tire my brain out enough to shut Ed out of it. I would have to see or speak with him eventually, it’s not like I could go home without my passport. He probably didn’t even realize he had it.

I was scared shitless; that was really what it boiled down to.  I hadn’t even known him that long, but there was something about our connection that was just… not of this world. Was it one-sided, all along? Is he still in love with her? Was I just a coping mechanism for him, much like the drink he had favored until the night you found him all strung out after a bender?

Okay, okay - get it together, Kendra. These are not good thoughts to be having while you’re sitting in a pub, eating lunch amongst business men and ladies alike. Where to, next?

I had been itching to have a go at the London Eye, and so I paid my lunch bill and spilled forth onto the busy London sidewalk to hail a cab.

I directed the driver and settled in. The radio caught my ear right away -

*Intro Music*

“We’ve got Ed Sheeran in the studio with us today to talk about his upcoming American tour. Ed, welcome -- great to have you as always, even on short notice!”

“Thanks, pleasure to be here.”

Hearing his voice made my pulse quicken. He’s supposed to be off work til tour -- why is he doing promo all of a sudden?

I clued back in -

“..seems like you’re putting out one hit wedding song after another after another. People call you the King of Romance, d’you know that?”

He chuckled, a nervous kind of laugh. “I’ve heard that being said, yeah.”

“I mean we’ve even got this photo of you, barefoot, holding your lady’s broken shoes leaving a party earlier this year. You gotta cut that out, man, you’re making the rest of us look bad! Nobody compares to the perfect boyfriend Ed Sheeran!”

“Mate, if only it were that easy. I’m just a person, I make mistakes too. I write love songs - yeah, but I’ve also hurt people. People I really care about.”

“Miss?” The cab driver’s voice filled the car, snapping me back to reality. He was pulled over to the curb - we were at the entrance for the Eye. I paid for my ride and climbed out of the cab, Ed’s voice still floating out through the speakers.

I was winded; I hadn’t expected to hear his voice. I plopped down on a little bench seat and pulled out my phone.

*I want to see you, Ed, I really do. I just… I need to know if you’re still in love with her. And I need you to be sure. Please take some time to work it out. Friday, 8 o’ clock. I’m at the Corinthia. I’ll leave your name at the desk.

Friday night had come and I was in shambles. My entire body felt like a blinking neon sign, on-off-on-off, as my veins contracted and expanded with every beat of my petrified heart. Would he come? Had he realized he wasn't really missing anything? Is he still in love with her?

Ping! went the elevator and I thought maybe my stomach had just dropped out of my body. The door opened. And there he was, face hidden behind a thick layer of copper beard, his eyes a dark ocean blue.

He stepped out of the lift, and I opened my mouth to say something. But he didn’t miss a beat.

“It's you, Kenn. It's only you. God, I've never been so sure about anything in my life, I'll spend every damn day proving myself to you.” His voice was strong, his animated hands coming to life. “Just say the word, say it and I'm yours. Actually? Nah, you don't have to. I'm already yours. Whether or not you want me.”

It was exactly what I needed to hear. The doubt melted away as I saw the man before me, steady in his words, white-knuckled as he tried to express how true they were.

“Oh, Ed, of course I want you, I’ve missed you s--”

He takes two steps toward me, his arms a bright slur of colors, my body willing itself toward his. His hands came up to cup my jaw, the pad of his middle finger resting beyond my ear. His lips settle firmly on mine and this kiss is somehow both soft & firm, frenzied yet unhurried, passionate and just purely, simply, sweet.

He breaks away - swallowing down a huge gulp of oxygen. “Kenny, I’m--”

“-- I know, Ed. I know.” and I know my words won’t soothe his worries as well as my lips will and so I take him back into my arms, pressing my lips to his as we both hold onto each other, keeping one another afloat.

I walk him backwards, into the master bedroom, until we reach the bed. He's showering me with kisses, every inch of my skin is a target for his plumped lips. His hands guide me gently until I’m lying in the center of the bed, his mouth on my skin every second of the way. He kicks off his shoes and climbs in.

He’s holding himself over me, caging me in. I reach for the hem of his t-shirt, dragging my fingertips up his back as I move to free his upper body, craving the warmth of his bare skin.

He pauses his oral assault of my neck, just long enough for me to pull the shirt up over his head. My fingers catch on something - what's this? Gauze, a patch of medical gauze taped over his left shoulder blade.

“Teddy -” I questioned.  “What is this?”

My question elicits a sigh, he's hesitant to answer. Was he hurt?

He pushes his body weight up, swinging his leg over me, sitting on the edge of the bed. With another sigh, he pulled his tee shirt completely off. The London moonlight filtering in through the glass pane of the window helps confirms my suspicion - it is a patch of gauze, a small vertical rectangle.

He turns a cheek toward me. “Would you like t’see?” He asks, taking a deep breath in, followed by a slow exhale.

I crawl toward him, sitting in an upright position behind where he's perched on the edge of the bed. I tucked my hair behind my ears before carefully peeling away the medical tape

I pull away the gauze, Ed is silent. I drink in the sight before me: vibrant ink, fresh, the surrounding skin still speckled pink from the irritation. It’s a playing card, the Queen of Hearts. All black and red, elaborate design.

“It’s beautiful… what does it mean?” For once, my mouth is one step ahead of my brain. I quickly cover the tattoo up again, patting the tape back in place. My pulse quickens.

He turns toward me. His hand reaches out to my face - out of habit, I think. Muscle memory, even. But his fingers re-route once he realizes my hair is already neatly tucked behind my ear.

“It's for you, Kendra.” His eyelids fluttering as he stares right into my dark eyes. “From that night, at the concert. That night… I knew I loved you.”

“Oh, Ed --” I started, reaching for him.

“You don’t have to say it back, Kenn, that’s not… not why I showed you.”

“I want to. I love you, Teddy. I knew it that night, too.”

Thanks for reading! This is the last you’ll hear from Ed & Kendra, at least for a while.

[deniscollins]

Scrabble Tournaments Move Toward Banning Racial and Ethnic Slurs

Scrabble Tournaments have a word list of 192,111 words found in the dictionary. If you sat on the North American Scrabble Players Association board, how would you vote on a player’s request that 226 racial slurs and other offensive terms be banned from tournament use even though they may be in the dictionary: (1) continue to use the terms, (2) ban the terms? Why? What are the ethics underlying your decision?

Josephine Flowers became a ranked, competitive Scrabble player more than a dozen years ago, and to commemorate the moment, she inscribed her custom-built game board with one of her favorite sayings: “Never underestimate the power of words.”

The phrase serves as a constant reminder to her that, even when people say that the words formed on a Scrabble board are supposedly divorced of meaning, they can still inflict pain.

That is why Flowers, who is Black, and several other members of the North American Scrabble Players Association, have called on the organization to ban the use of an anti-Black racial slur, and as many as 225 other offensive terms, from its lexicon.

“You could be sitting there for a 45-minute game just looking at that word,” said Flowers, a mental health worker from West Memphis, Ark. “And if you don’t know the person who played it, then you wonder, was it put down as a slight, or was it the first word that came to their mind?”

The issue may never come up again.

Hasbro, which owns the rights to Scrabble in North America, said Tuesday night the players association had “agreed to remove all slurs from their word list for Scrabble tournament play, which is managed solely by NASPA and available only to members.”

John Chew, the chief executive of the association, seemed to agree. He had asked the organization’s 12-person advisory board to vote on the matter in the coming days, but the statement from Hasbro was presented as a fait accompli, which could rankle those who oppose expurgating any words from the lexicon.

“It is the right thing to do,” Chew said Tuesday night.

Julie Duffy, a spokeswoman for Hasbro, also said the company will amend Scrabble’s official rules “to make clear that slurs are not permissible in any form of the game.”

The game that Hasbro sells in retail stores has not included slurs in its dictionary since 1994. But the players association, one of the most prominent governing bodies in competitive Scrabble, had still allowed them. The agreement could also affect what words may be played in online versions of the game.

Technically, Hasbro has no control over the 192,111 playable words on the word list used by the players’ association, but it does license the organization to use the name Scrabble, and it is not eager to see slurs associated with its brand. It said it was committed to “providing an experience that is inclusive and enjoyable for all.”

If a word is taken out of the association’s lexicon, it cannot be played in tournaments sanctioned by the organization.

Many software companies license the group’s lexicon and provide it to online versions of the game, meaning those words would become ineligible in those versions of the game, too.

Scrabble tournaments had previously allowed slurs on the basis that, however egregious, they are part of the English language. The guiding principle for players has been that points — not messaging or tact — win games.

But now, as people in the United States and many parts of the world campaign against systemic racism after George Floyd’s killing in Minneapolis police custody, a wide range of previously untouchable monuments, team names and, now, the rules of a board game, are under scrutiny.

Chew, the son of a Japanese mother and a father of English ancestry, formally petitioned the organization’s advisory board last month to remove some or all of the 226 words labeled offensive by the Merriam-Webster dictionary, especially the racial slur that the dictionary says is “almost certainly” the most offensive in the English language.

“When people are dying in the streets over racial tensions and this word still has so much power,” Chew said in a telephone interview from his home in Toronto last week, “you have to tell yourself this is just a game we are playing and we have to do what we can to make things right, just in our little corner of the world.”

The debate over the use of slurs in Scrabble is not a new one. In the 1990s, the Anti-Defamation League called on Hasbro to disallow the use of slurs after a complaint about an anti-Semitic term, and Hasbro was happy to oblige.

It was the competitive players who objected. In a compromise, slurs and profanities were taken out of the official Scrabble Dictionary, but clubs and tournaments could follow a separate lexicon, produced by the players’ association, that allows for the slurs.

“It is very difficult for a lot of people to understand why those words are still acceptable in Scrabble,” said Stefan Fatsis, the author of a book on competitive scrabble, “Word Freak.”

But, he added, “it is also hard for them to understand why ‘qi’ and ‘aa’ are words. For Scrabble players, they are just instruments with which to score points.”

During the 1990s furor, Steven Alexander, who is white and Jewish, was one of many players who wrote letters opposing any expurgation. He still opposes most exclusions, but he has amended his position after recent events.

“The one word that has actually been used to rally mobs into terrorism is the N-word,” he said. “It’s a word of conspiracy, a tool of oppression. If Black people demand something, a white person like me shouldn’t necessarily put their views first.”

Chew’s initial proposal came after an association member wrote a letter on the organization’s Facebook page calling for the body to take action. Chew agreed and made the proposal, then opened the topic for debate, which he says was fairly evenly split.

“I couldn’t have found a bigger wedge issue if I tried,” he said.

For those who objected to removing the words, Chew said, the three main arguments were: A word’s meaning is irrelevant in Scrabble; it’s a slippery slope, and — one he repeated with a tone of incredulity — if some people are not offended by the presence of those words, why should anyone else be?

“I can go through about 50 responses in a day before I need to get out the brain bleach,” Chew said.

He also noted that some members have told him that, since he is not Black, this is not his fight. And there are Black players who oppose removing the offensive words.

“If I’m going to lose the game playing a different word, then I’m going to use that word,” said Noel Livermore, a Black competitive player from Florida who opposes removing any words. “I need to score points and on that board, they don’t have any meaning.”

Livermore, who began playing with friends as a teenager in his hometown, Kingston, Jamaica, has played in tournaments around the world and calls Scrabble “a numbers game disguised as a word game.” When opponents have played a slur on the board against him, he does not even flinch, he said.

But he recalled once using an obscenity when playing against a woman.

“I apologized,” he said. “But I need the points. I’m not going to lose the game.”

John McWhorter, a professor of linguistics at Columbia University who is Black, said he feels Black players like Livermore should be the ones to decide the matter. If not, he said, then the proposal is merely an exercise in a few white men “testifying to their goodness as anti-racists.”

Professor McWhorter proposed using asterisk tiles in place of the offensive words so that no one has to stare at a slur during a game.

“But one thing that worries me about this is, we are fetishizing slurs” he said, “What is the next thing we can’t use, and how do you decide what’s a slur?”

The post that set off the debate was written by Jim Hughes, a top player from Austin, Texas. He said the organization needed to show support for social and racial justice following the protests over Floyd’s killing. His Scrabble club in Austin has proposed a scholarship program to help underprivileged children gain access to Scrabble clubs and tournaments, and make it more inclusive by eliminating words that can cause harm.

Hughes acknowledged playing slurs in the past to collect points.

“But just because something has been acceptable for so long doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” Hughes said.

Some of the most commonly used slurs in Scrabble are actually three-letter words, popular not for the sting they inflict, but for their ability to slip into small crevices on the board and rack up big scores. Flowers said she has played one such small word regularly without understanding the meaning. She also used an anti-Semitic word in a national tournament years ago, and said she regrets it.

That is why she advocates banning any word that a group considers offensive to them.

“I’m surprised it’s even a question,” she said. “Where are the hearts and the thoughts of the people who want to keep these words? Why are they so attached to offensive words when there are so many other words to play and enjoy.”