#MALCOLM APPRECIATION LIFE

[underestimated-shadow]

“I wanted to bring people back to believing in this character. To bring my reality to it. I guess I've always liked a challenge.”

– Timothy Dalton

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Dirty words are politically potent

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

Making up words is a perfectly cromulent passtime, and while most of the words we coin disappear as soon as they fall from our lips, every now and again, you find a word that fits so nice and kentucky in the public discourse that it acquires a life of its own:

http://meaningofliff.free.fr/definition.php3?word=Kentucky

I've been trying to increase the salience of digital human rights in the public imagination for a quarter of a century, starting with the campaign to get people to appreciate that the internet matters, and that tech policy isn't just the delusion that the governance of spaces where sad nerds argue about Star Trek is somehow relevant to human thriving:

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2010/10/04/small-change-malcolm-gladwell

Now, eventually people figured out that a) the internet mattered and, b) it was going dreadfully wrong. So my job changed again, from "how the internet is governed matters" to "you can't fix the internet with wishful thinking," for example, when people said we could solve its problems by banning general purpose computers:

https://memex.craphound.com/2012/01/10/lockdown-the-coming-war-on-general-purpose-computing/

Or by banning working cryptography:

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/09/04/oh-for-fucks-sake-not-this-fucking-bullshit-again-cryptography-edition/

Or by redesigning web browsers to treat their owners as threats:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2017/09/open-letter-w3c-director-ceo-team-and-membership

Or by using bots to filter every public utterance to ensure that they don't infringe copyright:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2018/09/today-europe-lost-internet-now-we-fight-back

Or by forcing platforms to surveil and police their users' speech (aka "getting rid of Section 230"):

https://www.techdirt.com/2020/06/23/hello-youve-been-referred-here-because-youre-wrong-about-section-230-communications-decency-act/

Along the way, many of us have coined words in a bid to encapsulate the abstract, technical ideas at the core of these arguments. This isn't a vanity project! Creating a common vocabulary is a necessary precondition for having the substantive, vital debates we'll need to tackle the real, thorny issues raised by digital systems. So there's "free software," "open source," "filternet," "chat control," "back doors," and my own contributions, like "adversarial interoperability":

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

Or "Competitive Compatibility" ("comcom"), a less-intimidatingly technical term for the same thing:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/12/competitive-compatibility-year-review

These have all found their own niches, but nearly all of them are just that: niche. Some don't even rise to "niche": they're shibboleths, insider terms that confuse and intimidate normies and distract from the real fights with semantic ones, like whether it's "FOSS" or "FLOSS" or something else entirely:

https://opensource.stackexchange.com/questions/262/what-is-the-difference-between-foss-and-floss

But every now and again, you get a word that just kills. That brings me to "enshittification," a word I coined in 2022:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/28/enshittification/#relentless-payola

"Enshittification" took root in my hindbrain, rolling around and around, agglomerating lots of different thoughts and critiques I'd been making for years, crystallizing them into a coherent thesis:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

This kind of spontaneous crystallization is the dividend of doing lots of work in public, trying to take every half-formed thought and pin it down in public writing, something I've been doing for decades:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/09/the-memex-method/

After those first couple articles, "enshittification" raced around the internet. There's two reasons for this: first, "enshittification" is a naughty word that's fun to say. Journalists love getting to put "shit" in their copy:

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/01/15/crosswords/linguistics-word-of-the-year.html

Radio journalists love to tweak the FCC with cheekily bleeped syllables in slightly dirty compound words:

https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/otm/projects/enshitification

And nothing enlivens an academic's day like getting to use a word like "enshittification" in a journal article (doubtless this also amuses the editors, peer-reviewers, copyeditors, typesetters, etc):

https://scholar.google.com/scholar?hl=en&as_sdt=0%2C5&q=enshittification&btnG=&oq=ensh

That was where I started, too! The first time I used "enshittification" was in a throwaway bad-tempered rant about the decay of Tripadvisor into utter uselessness, which drew a small chorus of appreciative chuckles about the word:

https://twitter.com/doctorow/status/1550457808222552065

The word rattled around my mind for five months before attaching itself to my detailed theory of platform decay. But it was that detailed critique, coupled with a minor license to swear, that gave "enshittification" a life of its own. How do I know that the theory was as important as the swearing? Because the small wave of amusement that followed my first use of "enshittification" petered out in less than a day. It was only when I added the theory that the word took hold.

Likewise: how do I know that the theory needed to be blended with swearing to break out of the esoteric realm of tech policy debates (which the public had roundly ignored for more than two decades)? Well, because I spent two decades writing about this stuff without making anything like the dents that appeared once I added an Anglo-Saxon monosyllable to that critique.

Adding "enshittification" to the critique got me more column inches, a longer hearing, a more vibrant debate, than anything else I'd tried. First, Wired availed itself of the Creative Commons license on my second long-form article on the subject and reprinted it as a 4,200-word feature. I've been writing for Wired for more than thirty years and this is by far the longest thing I've published with them – a big, roomy, discursive piece that was run verbatim, with every one of my cherished darlings unmurdered.

That gave the word – and the whole critique, with all its spiky corners – a global airing, leading to more pickup and discussion. Eventually, the American Dialect Society named it their "Word of the Year" (and their "Tech Word of the Year"):

https://americandialect.org/2023-word-of-the-year-is-enshittification/

"Enshittification" turns out to be catnip for language nerds:

https://becauselanguage.com/90-enpoopification/#transcript-60

I've been dragged into (good natured) fights over the German, Spanish, French and Italian translations for the term. When I taped an NPR show before a live audience with ASL interpretation, I got to watch a Deaf fan politely inform the interpreter that she didn't need to finger-spell "enshittification," because it had already been given an ASL sign by the US Deaf community:

https://maximumfun.org/episodes/go-fact-yourself/ep-158-aida-rodriguez-cory-doctorow/

I gave a speech about enshittification in Berlin and published the transcript:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/30/go-nuts-meine-kerle/#ich-bin-ein-bratapfel

Which prompted the rock-ribbed Financial Times to get in touch with me and publish the speech – again, nearly verbatim – as a whopping 6,400 word feature in their weekend magazine:

https://www.ft.com/content/6fb1602d-a08b-4a8c-bac0-047b7d64aba5

Though they could have had it for free (just as Wired had), they insisted on paying me (very well, as it happens!), as did De Zeit:

https://www.zeit.de/digital/internet/2024-03/plattformen-facebook-google-internet-cory-doctorow

This was the start of the rise of enshittification. The word is spreading farther than ever, in ways that I have nothing to do with, along with the critique I hung on it. In other words, the bit of string that tech policy wonks have been pushing on for a quarter of a century is actually starting to move, and it's actually accelerating.

Despite this (or more likely because of it), there's a growing chorus of "concerned" people who say they like the critique but fret that it is being held back because you can't use it "at church or when talking to K-12 students" (my favorite variant: "I couldn't say this at a NATO conference"). I leave it up to you whether you use the word with your K-12 students, NATO generals, or fellow parishoners (though I assure you that all three groups are conversant with the dirty little word at the root of my coinage). If you don't want to use "enshittification," you can coin your own word – or just use one of the dozens of words that failed to gain public attention over the past 25 years (might I suggest "platform decay?").

What's so funny about all this pearl-clutching is that it comes from people who universally profess to have the intestinal fortitude to hear the word "enshittification" without experiencing psychological trauma, but worry that other people might not be so strong-minded. They continue to say this even as the most conservative officials in the most staid of exalted forums use the word without a hint of embarrassment, much less apology:

https://www.independent.ie/business/technology/chairman-of-irish-social-media-regulator-says-europe-should-not-be-seduced-by-mario-draghis-claims/a526530600.html

I mean, I'm giving a speech on enshittification next month at a conference where I'm opening for the Secretary General of the United Nations:

https://icanewdelhi2024.coop/welcome/pages/Programme

After spending half my life trying to get stuff like this into the discourse, I've developed some hard-won, informed views on how ideas succeed:

First: the minor obscenity is a feature, not a bug. The marriage of something long and serious to something short and funny is a happy one that makes both the word and the ideas better off than they'd be on their own. As Lenny Bruce wrote in his canonical work in the subject, the aptly named How to Talk Dirty and Influence People:

I want to help you if you have a dirty-word problem. There are none, and I'll spell it out logically to you.

Here is a toilet. Specifically-that's all we're concerned with, specifics-if I can tell you a dirty toilet joke, we must have a dirty toilet. That's what we're all talking about, a toilet. If we take this toilet and boil it and it's clean, I can never tell you specifically a dirty toilet joke about this toilet. I can tell you a dirty toilet joke in the Milner Hotel, or something like that, but this toilet is a clean toilet now. Obscenity is a human manifestation. This toilet has no central nervous system, no level of consciousness. It is not aware; it is a dumb toilet; it cannot be obscene; it's impossible. If it could be obscene, it could be cranky, it could be a Communist toilet, a traitorous toilet. It can do none of these things. This is a dirty toilet here.

Nobody can offend you by telling a dirty toilet story. They can offend you because it's trite; you've heard it many, many times.

https://www.dacapopress.com/titles/lenny-bruce/how-to-talk-dirty-and-influence-people/9780306825309/

Second: the fact that a neologism is sometimes decoupled from its theoretical underpinnings and is used colloquially is a feature, not a bug. Many people apply the term "enshittification" very loosely indeed, to mean "something that is bad," without bothering to learn – or apply – the theoretical framework. This is good. This is what it means for a term to enter the lexicon: it takes on a life of its own. If 10,000,000 people use "enshittification" loosely and inspire 10% of their number to look up the longer, more theoretical work I've done on it, that is one million normies who have been sucked into a discourse that used to live exclusively in the world of the most wonkish and obscure practitioners. The only way to maintain a precise, theoretically grounded use of a term is to confine its usage to a small group of largely irrelevant insiders. Policing the use of "enshittification" is worse than a self-limiting move – it would be a self-inflicted wound. As I said in that Berlin speech:

Enshittification names the problem and proposes a solution. It's not just a way to say 'things are getting worse' (though of course, it's fine with me if you want to use it that way. It's an English word. We don't have der Rat für englische Rechtschreibung. English is a free for all. Go nuts, meine Kerle).

Finally: "coinage" is both more – and less – than thinking of the word. After the American Dialect Society gave honors to "enshittification," a few people slid into my mentions with citations to "enshittification" that preceded my usage. I find this completely unsurprising, because English is such a slippery and playful tongue, because English speakers love to swear, and because infixing is such a fun way to swear (e.g. "unfuckingbelievable"). But of course, I hadn't encountered any of those other usages before I came up with the word independently, nor had any of those other usages spread appreciably beyond the speaker (it appears that each of the handful of predecessors to my usage represents an act of independent coinage).

If "coinage" was just a matter of thinking up the word, you could write a small python script that infixed the word "shit" into every syllable of every word in the OED, publish the resulting text file, and declare priority over all subsequent inventive swearers.

On the one hand, coinage takes place when the coiner a) independently invents a word; and b) creates the context for that word that causes it to escape from the coiner's immediate milieu and into the wider world.

But on the other hand – and far more importantly – the fact that a successful coinage requires popular uptake by people unknown to the coiner means that the coiner only ever plays a small role in the coinage. Yes, there would be no popularization without the coinage – but there would also be no coinage without the popularization. Words belong to groups of speakers, not individuals. Language is a cultural phenomenon, not an individual one.

Which is rather the point, isn't it? After a quarter of a century of being part of a community that fought tirelessly to get a serious and widespread consideration of tech policy underway, we're closer than ever, thanks, in part, to "enshittification." If someone else independently used that word before me, if some people use the word loosely, if the word makes some people uncomfortable, that's fine, provided that the word is doing what I want it to do, what I've devoted my life to doing.

The point of coining words isn't the pilkunnussija's obsession with precise usage, nor the petty glory of being known as a coiner, nor ensuring that NATO generals' virgin ears are protected from the word "shit" – a word that, incidentally, is also the root of "science":

https://www.arrantpedantry.com/2019/01/24/science-and-shit/

Isn't language fun?

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/14/pearl-clutching/#this-toilet-has-no-central-nervous-system

[arinzechukwuture]

Malcolm X Was Obsessed with His Watch

I have less patience with someone who doesn't wear a watch than with anyone else, for this type is not time-conscious. In all our deeds, the proper value and respect for time determines success or failure.

-- Malcolm X

Wristwatches played an interesting and important role in the life of Malcolm X. The above quote (told to Alex Haley for The Autobiography of Malcolm X) shows how deeply he respected time, appreciated others who understood its significance, and viewed the watch as an identifier for such people.

"You won't find anybody more time-conscious than I am. I live by my watch, keeping appointments. Even when I'm using my car, I drive by my watch, not my speedometer. Time is more important to me than distance."

"Anything I do today, I regard as urgent. No man is given but so much time to accomplish whatever is his life's work. My life in particular never has stayed fixed in one position for very long. You have seen how throughout my life, I have often known unexpected drastic changes."

* Malcolm X was given his watch by one of his brothers after he had left prison.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 102 (More Winterfest in San Myshuno)

Early in the morning after Winterfest, Ray, the Landgraabs' driver, picked up Ash from Brindleton Bay. Heather was distracted on his arrival, because Lavender had woken and pulled herself up to sit for the first time. The family excitedly celebrated the milestone, but she dressed Ash as an afterthought, rushing to get him in clothes nicer than he ever wore in Brindleton Bay.

Nancy had rearranged her family's holiday celebration to ensure Ash was included, but she rolled her eyes in annoyance when he showed up in a grey and black suit. "I told Heather red or green for the portrait. Even John managed to find a red bow tie!"

Malcolm groaned while his infant daughter, Bridgette, fussed in Miko's arms. "He looks fine, Mom. Just take the photo so we can change."

Controlling Nancy was very particular, and she spent the timer countdown trying to get Johnny and Eva's twin daughters to pivot from their positions on the floor. Nonetheless, this was the best photo Nancy was going to get, because her family was anxious to change into more comfortable clothes and move on to gifts, eating food, and yes, even hanging out with each other.

Miko played songs on piano and practiced tummy time with Bridgette before her nap. Johnny introduced his sister to his youngest son with wife Eva, who was roughly the same age as Bridgette. "Deven Zest? You won't use your real name professionally, but you can't even give it to your children?"

"I didn't think you gave a crap what my kids were called, Nancy. You didn't say a word after the birth of Cristal and Noemi, and now you've got Ash and Bridgette to focus on."

Nancy scowled. "You've made a nice family for yourself, John. I'd say I'm proud of you but for that to happen you'd have to apologize for trying to take me down more than once."

"And you'd have to apologize for punishing me every day of my life for our mother's death."

Nancy pursed her lips. "Well...Happy Winterfest, John. Maybe this year you'll finally get that headline comedy special you've always dreamed about."

Ash hung out with his second cousins - Johnny and Eva's five-year-old twin daughters, Noemi (the blonde) and Cristal (with black hair). "What's it like to go to school in a big city?"

"We take the subway to school every morning," said Noemi. "And there are lots of basketball courts on the pavement outside."

"I go to school on a boat every day," said Ash. "To an island with a cemetery for dead pets!"

The girls thought this was weird and fascinating, and they swapped stories of what life was like in their respective hometowns. They knew little of their family drama and kept to themselves, uninterested in the conversations being had by all the boring grown-ups.

Geoffrey gave his wife a copy of Layla Delarosa's latest bestseller, Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang: Origins. The outgoing CEO made no secret of her appreciation for smutty fiction, and she flirted shamelessly with Geoffrey by their giant windows. "The last time you read a Layla Delarosa book, we learned to do that," Geoffrey recollected with a smile.

Malcolm cuddled his sleepy daughter, rolling his eyes at his parents, and Miko pulled a gift from under the tree for Ash. "It's a little something extra from your dad and me. I found it when I was going through some boxes in storage."

Ash opened the gift and glanced at the photograph inside with confusion. "Who are these kids?"

Malcolm turned from the sofa. "That's a picture of Conrad and me when we were kids. We thought you might want to hang it up in you and Bridgette's room now that it's finished."

Ash could hardly comprehend the idea that his father and stepfather had ever been so young, and he studied the photo in detail. "Were you two friends?"

"We were friends, and we're still close now because we both care about you."

"Are you hang out friends like me and Arron Kalani or Scotti Holiday?"

"Not really. We live too far away from each other to be hang out friends."

Ash nodded. "Like me and Pearl Richards," he said cheerily.

Heather and Conrad arrived soon after with Lavender, and Eva greeted her excitedly. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but it's nice to have someone else here who Nancy loves to insult."

Heather laughed. "As fun as it sounds to listen to Nancy all night, we're not staying long. We've got to get to my sister's place across town before she puts her girls to bed."

In the kitchen, Malcolm caught up with Conrad. Though his every promotion to investigative reporter had been the result of nepotism and not hard work (really true, I cheated it up every time), somewhere along the way he'd learned how to do his job. "So there haven't been many updates about the body that was found by the pier in Brindleton Bay."

"I can't talk about an active case file, Malcolm."

"I'm not asking as a reporter. I'm asking whether Brindleton Bay is safe enough for my son."

"Of course it is. It's not descending into lawlessness because a body turned up at the docks."

Conrad's stomach twisted. It seemed he was always lying to someone, but his captain would fire him without a second thought if he revealed a word of the case to a reporter for a news organization as biased and unprincipled as Simlandia National.

"What are you guys talking about?" Ash interrupted, and Conrad was grateful Malcolm had no interest in discussing a murder investigation in front of his son. "Are you being hang out friends?"

"We are," said Malcolm. "We were just talking about work. Boring stuff that grown up friends like to talk about."

"You should do jobs you think are more fun. Like running a bouncy castle! Can you imagine?"

He laughed excitedly at his idea and they left the Landgraabs in good spirits. They arrived at Uncle Karl and Mortimer's penthouse in the Arts Quarter when Lavender was ready for a bottle and her afternoon nap.

Infant Betta

vs.

Infant Holly

Heather marveled at how much little Betta looked like her mother as a baby, pulling up an old photo on mom Daisy's Social Bunny account of Holly in her crib with a dirty diaper at the same age.

Ash shared silly conversation with his cousin, Tetra, who was only three and still learning to speak. Conrad chatted with Karl and Mortimer, finding true crime-loving Karl just as curious about the murder investigation in Brindleton Bay as Malcolm had been. "No arrests yet. But maybe one day they'll make a doc about the case - hopefully after we've solved it."

"Please do solve it soon," Mortimer pleaded gently. "I'd hate to see Brindleton Bay step back into its more lawless times of the past. Especially with most of my family still in town."

Lavender woke then from her nap, buoyant and giddy as usual, and Heather's Uncle Karl took the chance to cuddle her. Sometimes, he regretted missing out on having children of his own, but sharing such a close bond with his nieces, nephew, and their children was a fitting consolation.

"Brindleton Bay is in good hands," Conrad said assuredly. "Not just me, but we've got a great team. We'll get to the bottom of the case."

Back Uptown, Malcolm put Bridgette to bed. He was still thinking about the body in Brindleton Bay, and Miko could tell it was bothering him. "Maybe you should start making calls," she suggested.

"Simlandia National only wants me investigating political activists."

"So what? If you follow your instincts and find a story, they'll run with it. Simlandia National loves an unsolved murder case."

Malcolm considered his wife's advice with a smile, leaving to do some research on the computer as their daughter slept peacefully in her crib. Malcolm wasn't supposed to work independently, but he had a feeling there was more to the investigation at the pier than anyone was letting on.

For the sake of his son and the story, Malcolm decided to follow his hunch. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: The awkward placement of the family portrait (not centred, Nancy holding nothing where a toddler should be but there are none) is due to me making a first attempt at combining poses to make a full portrait. Ash, Nancy, Geoffrey, Noemi, and Cristal are posed using the Imperial Dynasty posepack by @beto-ae0, and I used @rebouks Infant Insanity Family Photos posepack twice (same pose as the one I used for Heather, Conrad, Ash and Lavender in their holiday pj's) for Malcolm, Miko, Bridgette, Deven, Eva, and Johnny.

Also! I dressed up everyone in the Landgraab and Zest households for the photo and completely forgot about Ash before I set the poses and didn't want to set it up again, so I am once again blaming one of my sims for my own failings. 😂

NOTE 2: As for the clothing changes kind of going back and forth, I filmed events in one order and wrote events in a different order and when I realized it, I just kinda shrugged it off because I was already laser-focusing on getting later posts queued up. It all happened the same day, at least!

[confused-bi-queer]

Happy Davy's Day

Hello friends! Today (as of 2 days ago) is Davy's birthday, so I decided to finish a drawing I've been plotting.

If you know me, you know I'm obsessed with MalMage, ergo I'm obsessed with Davy Cadwallader and Malcolm Grimm as separate characters (and together, love them). But their younger versions hold such a especial place in my heart/life, I really love them a lot.

That's why I decided to show part of my perception/take on them individually. First goes Davy. These are some of the headcanons I've given him because of personal reasons or things that I like thinking he must have done when he was younger. I am open for a friendly discussion about Young Watford Davy, I love him.

This is my interpretation because I've spent almost the last 3 years of my life writing a MalMage fic (Cautionary Tale in AO3), since they were at Watford, and these are things I've thought about but haven't written them or already wrote them in that fic. And I wanted to draw him, look at him.

This is also a statement of mine. People have every right to like anything without having to explain why. Fanfiction and fanart exists for a reason. I won't ever shut up about MalMage. Ever.

This is also a gift for @valeffelees we appreciate you and your boyfriend in this side of the fandom ❤️

[scotianostra]

On 10th November, the year 1150 work began on the construction of Dryburgh Abbey in the Scottish Borders.

Standing on an elevated site formed by a loop of the River Tweed about five miles from Melrose, Dryburgh Abbey’s seclusion is part of its undoubted charms that have captivated many souls down the ages. There is little of the original Abbey church left, but the remains of the sacristy and cloisters have survived and the building is well looked after now as it is in the care of Historic Environment Scotland.

At the time of its foundation Scotland was ruled over by the man who many people consider to be Scotland’s greatest king, David I, son of Malcolm Canmore and St Margaret of Scotland. He both ordered and funded the construction of several abbeys and monasteries as part of his Davidian Revolution which transformed the face of Scotland, but Dryburgh was not one of them.

There had been some sort of clerical institution at Dryburgh as far back as the early seventh century as ancient writings show that St Modan, a follower of St Columba, was described as being the abbot of Dryburgh in 622. As with all Scottish history from the Dark Ages and early mediaeval period, almost all records as existed about buildings and personalities have long been lost, and there is no physical evidence of the older establishment whatsoever.

Though approved by King David, Dryburgh Abbey was the foundation of Hugh de Morville or Moreville, a Norman knight who came over from Cotentin to northern England after King Henry I gave that part of northern France to David. He was almost certainly one of the French knights who helped David retain most of southern Scotland on behalf of his brother King Alexander I, known as the Fierce.

David was both the Earl of Huntingdon and the Prince of the Cumbrians which took in the area formerly occupied by the Kings of Strathclyde. David gave de Morville lands in Huntingdon and Westmoreland, so it would make sense that Hugh de Morville came into Scotland and took possession of lands given to him by David. He was also made Constable of Scotland after his predecessor was killed in battle in 1138.

Being allowed to build his own abbey shows how much he was appreciated by David. De Morville took a personal interest in the construction and shrewdly did not make it either as large or as powerful as those abbeys founded by David such as Holyrood and Melrose. With its location by the Tweed and the obviously intricate stonework that still survives,

Dryburgh Abbey was outstandingly beautiful. It was built quite quickly after de Morville was able to attract Premonstratien canons regular – not monks confirmed to a monastery but an order of preachers and pastors.The White Canons, as they were known from their robes, arrived from Alnwick Abbey at Dryburgh in 1152, and were soon joined by a prominent local lord, none other than Hugh de Morville who became a canon and died in the Abbey in 1162. His son, also Hugh, inherited his father’s lands in northern England and became infamous as one of the four knights who assassinated St Thomas a Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, in 1170.

Dryburgh Abbey seems to have thrived until the Wars of Independence when it was burned down by the English army on their humiliating retreat from their 1322 invasion of Scotland under Edward II, loser of Bannockburn. They burned Holyrood and Melrose, too, and an enraged Robert the Bruce was appalled at the actions of supposed Christians, so much so that he gathered an army and charged deep into England in what was known as the Great Raid of 1322, routing the English army at the Battle of Old Byland to further humiliate Edward II who barely escaped with his life.

In 1385, another English army burned Dryburgh again, destroying the western frontage of the Abbey church. This was rebuilt, however, but by the time of King James IV, there was no longer sufficient canons in the Abbey which was handed over to a commendator – an administrator of church buildings appointed by the monarch.

Dryburgh was sacked twice more by the English in 1544, and when the Reformation took place in 1560 there were just 10 canons left, and they were all gone within a few decades. The Abbey was allowed to become a ruin, and passed into the control of various people until it was acquired in 1786 by David Erskine, 11th Earl of Buchan, founder of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland. He re-created the ruin, added monuments and generally made the Abbey beautiful again .

Buchan died in 1829 and was buried in the Abbey. At one time the ruin was owned by the Haliburton family and they retained the right of burial within its walls. That is why the graves and memorial stones of Sir Walter Scott and Field-Marshal Earl Haig, both descendants of the Haliburtons, are there along with various members of their family.

Historic Environment Scotland says this about Dryburgh Abbey: “While a greater part of the abbey church is now gone, what does remain – principally the two transepts and west front – is of great architectural interest. The cloister buildings, particularly the east range, are among the best preserved in Scotland. The chapter house is important as containing rare evidence for medieval painted decoration. The whole site, tree-clad and nestling in a loop of the River Tweed, is spectacularly beautiful and tranquil.”

Dryburgh Abbey has become a place of pilgrimage for lovers of Scott in particular, but deserves to be better known because of its history and sheer beauty.

[wide-nose-and-wonderful]

SNOWFALL SEASON 1 Franklin.

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black Fem Reader!

Warnings/Type: Established Relationship. Angst. Use of the n-word. Mention of incarceration.  Here is Part (2)

Summary: You’ve seen the worst parts of him and the best parts of him and vice versa. That’s why you made a good pair, but the recent knowledge of his new life path has torn you both apart. However when tragedy strikes, it might be the thing you need to take another look at the Franklin you fell in love with.   

Word count: 6,228k  / Comment and Like to show some love. It's oh so appreciated and encourages me to write more for ya'll! 

You opened the door and entered the small, cramped bedroom with a heavy sigh. Two windows, and a large orange rug in the middle of the floor. It was 1983 and the black prison population had risen 39 percent. Alice Walker had finally been recognized for her amazing writing, the goat face devil, known none other than President Ronald Reagan was in office, and Martin Luther King’s birthday became a federal holiday. To be real, you were still waiting for the day they would do the same for Malcom X. If you were given the option between the two leaders, Malcolm was always the easy choice. You looked around at the brown, outdated furniture, the thick, floral curtains, and the collection of dolls that had been passed down to you. A record player, piles of vinyl's, your favorite childhood teddy bear, and posters of bands and movies. 

That wasn’t all. 

Law books. Everywhere! 

There were so many law books that the public library would need to come to you for a check out. You took a few moments to soak it all in. They stacked high, one atop the other, and filled with information.You'd possibly taken every single book on the subject in all of South Central. There wasn't a place you hadn't visited to search for answers. 

You were dedicated. Determined. 

All the time you put in was worth it. All the sacrifices of fun you'd made to stay in and look for answers would make a difference in the end. That's what you kept telling yourself. This would all be worth it in the end. When it was all said and done, your big brother would be free to come back home and you would remain his hero.

You remembered all the long hours spent studying the different cases that had a similar flavor to what your brother’s had. Not a lawyer by any stretch of the word, but you knew how to read quite well and your comprehension, well, there was a reason that every report card you got in school read straight A's. So any time you and your mom had a meeting with Shelby Fleming, the public defender assigned to your brother's case, you were right there, ready with questions and suggestions. You couldn't recall how many times your mother had to tell you to shut up, but nonetheless Fleming appeared to take heed to your ramblings, at least a little. 

A little was enough for you. You could have very well been dismissed and not welcomed back, but you'd never missed a meeting. You figured it must be hard, a young black girl from the quote on quote hood, telling some white lawyer how to do his job better than he could. 

You remembered the last conversation you had with your brother. It was odd talking to him and being separated by a thick wall of glass. The entire experience left you unfulfilled each time you went back. 

‘Fuck this.You didn't do anything wrong. Imma get you out. I'll never stop fighting so you can come home Ronnie. Promise. Just, don't give up. This shit isn't hopeless.'

You remembered that particular visit. Ronnie had just received word that he'd lost his scholarship. Minor set back. He was smart, capable. He'd bounce back. Get another one.You were sure of that. 

You walked over to your bed, which was still made from the morning and ran your hand over the creamy, maroon bedspread, feeling the soft fabric beneath your fingers. You closed your eyes remembering the words, how he got on you for cursing in front of your mother. How he wanted you to control your anger and use all your frustration for something positive. 

He'd been having a hard time adjusting to that life, even after five months. More and more it weighed on him. You could see it in his face. That light you loved so much was beginning to dwindle. Everytime you came for a visit he had a fresh cut on him, busted lip, or a black eye that would make him look away ashamed. You never asked him about any of it, or pulled at him for information. You knew your brother wasn't a fighter. He just wasn't. 

He didn't need to be. Not for you. He would be someone else if he was. 

Ronnie wore big round glasses and carried a welcoming smile whenever he said hello and just like you, he loved books. He was pretty tall, and kinda thin, but he'd been everything you needed. He'd gotten himself a part time job at the library when he wasn't doing his college thing and always talked about how, ‘we need more black doctors. I know it's gonna take me a while, but I think that's the path I should be on.’ You supported him, even when times got tight. You believed in his dream, even to the point that you put college on the back burner. Ronnie had a scholarship, but that wouldn't be enough to take him all the way to the finish line. So you got a job to keep up things around the house, to support Ronnie. 

He was so good natured and driven. 

Your plans were but a small sacrifice for someone who deserved the world, but it was his good nature that had landed him in the last place you would have expected, federal prison. 

Ronnie always had a way of hanging with the wrong crowd, all because he wanted to help. Because he thought he could show folks a different way. You hated and loved that about him. It finally caught up to him, the good nature. He was looking at heavy time too. He wasn't the one with the gun, but he was there. And being there was just as bad. Even if he were trying to stop it. It was just as bad. 

‘Just tell them the truth. Do you want out of here!’ 

‘Politics ma. If I say anything I'm a dead man.’ 

You could hate your mother sometimes for the way she pressured Ronnie. Eventually he always gave into her whim. But she'd never been to prison. How would she know such advice could be detrimental? She wanted him back home just as bad as you did, but she lacked compassion. He had to always be a certain way for her, and that pissed you off more than you realized. 

To be fair, she did what she had to do to bring you up. To take care of the both of you. The family never had much, but you were never hungry, and the roof over your head caused you to shut down all your opinions about your mother and Ronnie's toxic relationship. He wasn't your father, although she expected him to be. The man of the house. 

You got up and moved over to the dresser, where you opened the top drawer and looked inside. There were some of her favorite things tucked away – an old pair of roller skates, a book of fairy tales, and a few pieces of jewelry. 

You pulled out the jewelry and held it up to the light. A very thin gold chain. A gift from Franklin. One of the few things that reminded you of the good times you’d shared with him. You sat the chain back in its place. Two weeks had felt more like two years. You still couldn’t believe it was over. But you also couldn’t believe what he’d gotten himself into either or tried to have you involved in off the simple fact that you were his girlfriend. With the news of Ronnie’s pending case you thought he’d be smarter. He knew everything you did. Upon explaining you hadn't missed one detail. 

'I'm not Ronnie. Alright? I know what I'm doin'.

For him to say some shit like that. Just thinking back on it pissed you off all over again. 

You threw a glance in the direction of the long full body mirror on your door. A pair of blue jeans, a yellow tank top, and your chunky gold hoop earrings, with your larger than life afro and brown skin. How many times had your mom and aunties tried to persuade you to get the hot comb run through? You declined every time. There had been this recent wave of perms and with the new commercials on TV, everybody and their mama, cousin, sister, homie lover friend was going for this look. 

You on the other hand had a thing for going against the grain. Standing out just because. Besides all that, you had a reputation to uphold. Sure it could be a lot to manage, but if Leon could do it. So could you. You'd both earned the nickname afro pick twins, by none other than Kevin, although you had the height advantage on Leon for days. A perm would totally kill that. You thought about the necklace again, how good it would look on you. How it would complete the outfit, your hair, even the carmex you applied. Tempted, you dug in the drawer for it and unclasped the back, setting it on your neck before locking the connected pieces and taking another look in the mirror. 

There it was. Complete. 

You sighed and took one last look at your book collection before you walked out of your bedroom and into the living room where your mother sat at the edge of the sofa. Her leg bounced up and down as she tapped the ash from her cigarette and proceeded to inhale the last bit of smoke in her lungs before putting it out completely. 

When she looked up at the clock, you looked too. The two of you had been waiting for the call. To hear back from Ronnies public defender. Good news. You just knew deep down it would be good news. He didn't deserve ten years. That was ridiculous. No, you were sure he'd get out in two, maybe even less for good behavior. 

‘I love you big brother. Stay strong and keep your head up in there, okay. I'll write. But I'll be here to see you next week too.’ 

‘Love you sis. See you next week.’ 

‘Ron don't forget. You're still my hero.’

‘You're still mine too.’ 

You had to be each other's hero after your father died. Your mother had detached herself. Became numb with grief, and it had been only you and Ronnie for a while. That only made the two of you grow closer. You needed each other. All of this was wrong in every sense of the word. This really was a case of the wrong place at the wrong time. Surely that little mishap could be forgiven with someone so promising. Ronnie had a lot to offer the world. So much that he could give.

You took in a deep breath and exhaled, shaking off the thought. Your stomach had been in knots the whole day waiting for the phone to ring. You'd barely eaten anything. You couldn't eat in fear that you would throw it all up with your nerves acting up, and you hated to throw up. 

"Hey. Go run to the store right quick and get me some more smokes." 

You immediately frowned. It was the first natural reaction your features could make out. A frown. Firstly you hated that your mom smoked. Cigarettes smelled like ass, and thus the fact that she didn't have the decency to smoke outside on the porch you smelled like a trash bucket by default. You rolled your eyes. 

"Can I go after the call ma?" 

"Look child, I am not in the mood. I asked you to do something.” She looked at you. “I don't need the attitude or back talk,” she said to emphasize her point. “Just go get my damn smokes." With a wave of her hand she turned her attention back to the television screen. Some beauty paget was on, and they were about to crown the winner. 

You stood up in a huff and walked over to her purse sitting on the table. You dug your hand inside and rummaged through her belongings. "How much can I take?" You asked, then pulled out her pocket book. 

"A twenty should be enough. Just go up the street to Cho’s. It’s closest." 

You stopped in your tracks, lifted your head with another sigh to follow. A quieter sigh so she wouldn’t hear it. 

Shit. You wanted so badly to protest. To argue why that was the worst suggestion, ever. To tell her that while the other store would take longer to get to, you would rather make that unnecessary trip then go up to Cho’s. You’d memorized his schedule ever since you two became a thing, mainly to plan time when you’d both be free to kick it, so you knew going between 5 and 6, there would be no avoiding running into him. 

You looked at the time and smacked your teeth as you made your way to the front door and slipped on your shoes. Your favorite green and white leather high-top sneakers. It was exactly 5:45PM.Yep. Franklin was absolutely at work, just barely starting his shift. You grabbed your small jacket and walked out, only halting briefly. “Alright. Be right back,” You called to your mom before shutting the door behind you and walking down the three steps that led to the sidewalk and down the walkway. 

The only thing that had made the breakup bearable was that you didn’t have to see him. You did a pretty good job of making yourself incognito when it mattered, and avoiding all the places he'd be on a regular basis. Really, you just needed time to wean yourself off. To get him out of your system. Then you’d be alright. Pretty soon you wouldn’t care at all where he was or if you'd run into him. You just wanted to get past the initial stage of separation. 

…

It didn't help that the first thing you heard when you stepped through the entrance doors of Cho's grocery store was Franklin's voice, and the first thing you saw was Melody Wright close by and laughing, probably at one of Franklin's stupid jokes. Damn Franklin, you moved on that fast, huh? You thought, and wondered why you had. Didn't he have a right to laugh with friends? After all you were the one that called for a breakup, not him. The laughter stopped and it was an all eyes on you stare down before you raised a hand and offered a quick wave as you passed by the chocolate bars and headed to the back. Some woman had come in behind you and walked in the opposite direction. For some reason you couldn't produce a regular ‘hi, how you doing, without it sounding condescending. Truth be told you'd wanted to avoid such an encounter. Damn your mom and her bad habits. 

"Hey Y/N, how you doin'? You can't say hi to a nigga now," Kevin called from the front with a chuckle. 

Boy, you could kick him right in the ass for putting a spotlight on you.

"I waved nigga, hell!" You shouted back, grabbing a bag of chips you liked before looking at the cold drinks behind the glass, doing everything to avoid Franklin's eyes. Good thing Kevin found that amusing, but you knew Franklin was still looking in your direction. There was this intensity with him that you didn't understand. All you knew was that you felt it. 

You heard that laugh again, and found yourself suddenly annoyed. 

Melody. 

You honestly didn't have a problem with her until the window incident that happened a month prior. To you she was nothing more than the girl next door. A young ass girl who liked your man, but absolutely no one to feel threatened by. You trusted him, and he'd never lied to you about anything, until now. The very point of betrayal you felt, was that Melody knew about the cocaine operation he had going before you did. Franklin had known her longer but you all grew up together. Not only that, you were his girl, that meant you should be the first to know no matter your reaction. You always had the better shot of being with him just based on your age alone. Plus you always felt you and Franklin were more compatible. You just got each other. You couldn't explain the chemistry. Why she thought she still had the right to climb through Franklin's window was beyond you. But she tried it. Needless to say she got what she deserved. Cissy wasn't home that day, and Franklin had all of a sudden gotten up from the couch and took you to his room. A man of few words, he'd pulled you in and started kissing you before he moved down to your neck. Then to your breast. Then to the button of your pants which he undid and removed, right before your panties were discarded. 

Damn, that boy had some soft lips. 

You snuck yourself a peek from over the rack of chips that provided you with good coverage from his view to look at them. You could hear Kevin and Leon talking, but your focus remained on Franklin. 

Damn, how you missed those lips. 

Clearing your throat you thought back to the surprise Melody got. Franklin on his knees below you, you at the edge of his bed. His face in-between your legs, eating you out like the nigga had been starved the day before. His long fingers wrapped around your thighs making sure you were held securely in place, and the best part about it was that he never looked up to acknowledge Melody's big head ass. Neither did you. Fuck it, you thought. Let her watch. But she didn't. You never saw a bitch move so fast. 

Now it was different. 

You were the one moving like a frightened rabbit, trying to avoid Franklin and his friends. Your friends. At Least once upon a time they were. But with Leon and Kevin being so close to Franklin, you figured you'd have to leave them all behind, like a package deal of sorts, to be fully through with the relationship. You wondered if they were all a part of it. The operation. Franklin was of course the leader. He just had the personality for it, but if not Kevin then alleast Leon's ass was involved someway somehow.

You shook your head. Whatever the situation was, it was all stupid to you. After all the cases you'd read in the collection of law books in your room, you knew that kinda life would only lead to destruction. On the one hand you wanted to thank him for thinking about you. He didn’t have to hand you two thick wods of money. But then on the other hand you knew you wouldn't feel right taking it. Especially since he wouldn’t tell you how he got it. That’s what kicked off the fight and ultimately led to you calling it quits. The way your voice traveled, you were sure Cissy was already suspicious. She didn’t know either, but you expected Franklin to be the one to reveal that truth to his mother, not you. You already knew you weren't built for it, which was why you'd broken it off. 

Cho's wasn't that big to begin with, and whether or not they were loud on purpose, you heard the conversation from where you stood at the back of the store looking at drinks you had no intention on purchasing. 

"Haha you stupid," Kevin joked. He must have been talking to Leon.  

"Well anyway nigga. We still gon hit up that new Eddie Murphy movie, Friday?" 

"Hell yeah. I'm down.” Melody chimed in. “Franklin, you going?"

You waited a minute to hear his response.

"Yeah. Looks like it's gonna be funny. Eddie is always a good time though so yeah. I’ll be there." 

You closed your eyes for a second and looked down once you opened them. You’d heard about the movie long before the breakup. Any Eddie Murphy film was a big deal. You were a big fan of the comedian turned actor. It had been something you’d both planned ahead of time. A date of sorts with just the two of you. Could you really be mad though? Was he not supposed to see the movie just because it would no longer be with you? The logic part of your brain gave you a hard, no. But your side built on full and pure emotion felt betrayed by him agreeing to go. Where the hell was your invite? 

"Okay. Well I'll see y'all. My daddy probably waitin' on me." She smiled at the guys, gave them a wave and walked out. 

"Bye Mel. See you," Franklin said right as the door closed behind her.

Leon stretched his arms and gave a long and drawn out yawn. "Yep Saint, I'm bout to dip too."

Kevin finished off whatever beverage he'd been sipping on. "Same. I gotta get up early tomorrow." 

Leon chuckled and tossed him a look. "Shit nigga and do what?"

Kevin tilted his head and chuckled as he threw away the empty can. "Yo mama. She been callin' I just ain't been pickin’ up."

Leon stopped laughing, which made Franklin grin and shake his head. 

“Man fuck you Kev. Don’t be talkin’ bout my mama.” 

You could hear them talking shit all the way out the door. You shook your head. A pair of fools, those two were. Now it was just you and Franklin, beside the occasional customers. Eventually you would have to go and pay for your items, unless you thought you could get away with a grocery store heist. 

You looked down at your hands.Things in each of them. Nothing but junk food, and you wondered if you would have enough for the cigarettes. 

When you made your way to the front there were two in line before you. Franklin occupied himself with ringing them up, but that didn't stop him from stealing glances. As the last customer grabbed her bag you moved up and took her place at the front. 

"Hey," Franklin said.

"Hey," you said back and placed everything on the counter. You hated that the smile you had was so faked, but again you couldn’t help it. You were a combination of so many emotions, you didn’t know which one to express at any given time. So much shit had been going on in your life lately that you couldn't stop your head from spinning. It didn’t help that you were avoiding making eye contact with him. Two weeks ago, and you would have stared into those motherfuckers for hours. 

"This it?" He took your things and began to scan them, a consistent beep after every slide of the barcode. His deep brown hues, rolling over you. Bearing into your soul even. Why was it that even the slightest glance of him reminded you of times when you were laid up in eachothers arms? How you both scrambled to get your clothes back on when you heard either of your mother's pulling up in the driveway depending on which house. You'd never gotten caught, thank God! You missed his arms. You missed being in them. 

"Yeah,” You nodded before you snapped back into the reality of why you were there in the first place.“Oh, wait and some smokes for my mama, please." You didn’t need to tell him which ones. He already knew. He’d been over the house enough times to get a mental picture. Besides that, this wasn’t the first time she’d sent you to grab her some. With that in mind you dug in your pocket for the twenty dollar bill. 

Franklin nodded and turned his back to you to reach up and grab a pack from the shelf behind him. This gave you the opportunity to look at him. Really look at him. 

You noticed his hair first. How it grew just shy an inch from the last time you saw it with the promise of a sprouting afro if he'd allow it. Then next his arms as he reached up for the certain brand she liked. You loved the color of his skin the most. A perfect completion. He wore a green T-shirt and dark wash blue jeans, so there was nothing extraordinary about his style, but boy oh boy, as simple as it was, did you love it. He was just well put together, in a way you couldn't explain. Franklin Saint was very much himself, in every sense of the word. He turned back around and scanned the cigarette pack, and your gaze departed from him as if it had never been there. You only looked at him briefly when he told you the total to hand him the twenty dollar bill, and once more when he gave you the change. He bagged everything up and held it out to you to take.You reached for it. Touched his hand by accident. Just that brief brush of warmth, and you knew you needed to leave. 

“Thank you,” you said, taking a step back.

"Y/N wait.” 

You paused and met his eyes. 

“I haven't seen you in two weeks. How you been?" 

You shrugged in hopes that someone would be behind you in line, but there was no one. You couldn't avoid the conversation even if you wanted to. 

"Been fine Franklin thank you for asking." 

He sighed and looked up at the ceiling briefly before he looked back at you. "Is there a reason why you're avoiding me?" 

"I'm not avoiding you.” You just so happen to say this without making eye contact. “What do you mean?" 

Franklin smirked. Had you forgotten how long y'all knew each other? He knew when you were on bullshit. 

"Come on. It's me. You can't even look me in the eye right now. Is that not avoiding me?"

Some kind of weird tension made its way to your shoulders. "Look Franklin, I just.” You sucked in air. You might as well just say it. Your body language had to be a dead giveaway at this point. “This isn't easy for me. Cause I won't lie. I wanna be with you.” You shook your head annoyed that you admitted it to him and shrugged your shoulders to make yourself feel better that you were actually being honest with yourself about the situation. Walking in and seeing Melody had a lot to do with that feeling. You didn't want to see him with another girl. Not Melody or anybody. “It ain't easy not to want that, despite everything."

"You think it is for me." 

You laughed. "Hm. Clearly. Looks like you didn't miss a beat. You with Melody now?" 

"Come on. Don't even do that. We're friends. Besides, Leon brought it up.” 

So he knew exactly what you were pissed about. The movie on Friday. The movie you'd already made plans for. 

“At first I wasn't going to but then I thought, shit why not. I wanna see Eddie. Laugh." 

You purse your lips and huff. Just another excuse. "Yeah. Whatever. Friends my ass Franklin.”

You took hold of your grocery bag and set your sights on the door. Franklin stopped you though. He'd leaned over the counter and grabbed your arm. 

“Wait, come on. Stay, let's talk, please." 

You shook your head. "Talk about what? We're done. There's nothing left to say.” You took a deep breath and with that turned to face him. “I can't do that. That life. That's too much on my heart. My brothers locked up. He might get ten years for something he didn't do.”

He had let go of your arm at this point. Finally, something you said caught his attention. Or at least he appeared to be consecrate in that respect to Ronnie's situation. 

You didn't stop there. You went on. 

“Then you. Can you imagine how much time you'd get for selling cocaine, Franklin? Cocaine!” You whispered as best you could through gritted teeth, but there was a hardness in your tone that said you still couldn't believe that he'd made such a choice for his life. “My God,” you added. “They wouldn't put you in the prison, they'd throw you the fuck under it.” Your emotions began to swell, you could feel the tears rising amidst the frustration. You knew no matter what you said, once Franklin made up his mind on something, it'd be like trying to move a mountain to change it. His stubbornness annoyed the shit outta you. At least one of his flaws which stuck out like a sore thumb. “You think I want that for you? You think my heart can take seeing you locked up like some fucking animal. Like my brother is right now.” It was probably all on deaf ears, nevertheless you said it anyway. You sniffed and looked straight ahead. “I feel so helpless. I hate going to that fuckin' place every week, but I can't not go cause he doesn't have anyone else but me that really gives a fuck about what he's really going through.” You thought about the visible signs of struggle on Ronnies face. The busted lip, all the cuts and bruises. “Truth be told. They're breaking him. That happy person he was. Yeah. That's gone now." 

You didn't notice when he walked around the counter. Only that he stood before you and wrapped his arms around you, which brought you to his chest. That familiar safe place. You didn't fight it. You eased into that comfort, cause heaven knew you needed it now more than ever. 

"I'm sorry," Franklin whispered. 

"I'm just tired,” you breathed out, taking in the scent of his cologne. “I've been trying for months to find some kinda loophole to help him in some way. But there's no way out.”

"It's gonna be okay. It's gonna all work out."

Your thoughts of Ronnie had shifted back to Franklin. 

"Just tell me why you feel like you gotta do this shit. Your handsome, your so fuckin' smart. You could be anything in the world and you chose to be a drug dealer?” You moved from his embrace, hearing him sigh as you wiped your eyes. “I don't understand. I don't fuckin understand that shit." 

The phone interrupted the explanation Franklin would give. You wanted so badly to hear what he would say. Would it be an excuse or the truth, and if it was the truth, could you even handle it?

“Give me one sec okay? I gotta get this.” His hand slid down your shoulders before they left you and you watched him hop over the counter and get the phone. You turned as the words Hello left Franklin’s lips and you found the round clock overhead. You hoped that your taking this time hadn’t made you miss the call you’d been waiting all day for. 

“Wow wow. Calm down. Just breathe. What happened?” 

Franklin’s tone had changed from casual to concerned at the drop of a dime and you found yourself curious to know who was on the other end of the line. 

“Yeah. She’s here. She’s right here.” 

You didn’t have time to study his face before he looked at you, calling your name to guid you over toward the phone. You didn't jump the counter, instead you walked through the swinging gate that separated you. Franklin removed the phone from his ear and you struggled to figure out what his eyes were trying to convey without him being able to say it with his words. “It’s your mama. She’s pretty upset.” He held out the phone in your direction. 

You didn’t know why your heart dropped, but it did like it was preparing you for something devastating without even hearing anything just yet. What was the worst news you could get? That you’d missed the call. That the public defender had told her they’d given your brother ten fucking years. Ten years just gone, stolen away. 

You swallowed down the lump in your throat and with a shaky hand you took the phone from Franklin. 

“Ma. Ma hello, what happened? What did Fleming say? They give him the max?” Your eyes already started to well up with tears again, content with that being the situation, and your lip began to quiver as you heard her scream out from the other end, He's dead. Ronnie is dead! They killed him! They killed him! My son, my baby! They killed him!" 

The last conversation you had with your brother didn’t seem like a goodbye at the time. But it was a goodbye. One you never even saw coming. 

You shook your head and dropped the phone, leaving your mother on the end of the line in hysterics repeating the same thing she’d said to you over and over. It was so loud that Franklin could hear her, and some people in the store that had walked in. You should go to her, you thought. You should be with her right this second, but you couldn't move from the spot where you stood. Your knees gave out, and you dropped to the floor stunned. Your mouth hung open void of speech or explanation for Franklin who was standing next to you looking at the phone that had the screams coming out from the other end, horrified. 

Pretty soon it became too much to breathe and you placed a hand over your chest and pulled in a bunch of fabric from your coat in hopes of catching it. It was like the air ran away from you.

Franklin hurried to your side. He understood what was happening even before you did. But he knew you, so that wasn’t a surprise. 

“Y/N. Hey. Come on, it's okay. Calm down. Calm down. You have to calm down.” 

But you were frozen until your lips blurted out, “They killed him, Franklin. My brother's dead!” You began to try and catch your breath. “They-” Your chest felt tighter and tighter. “I can’t, I c-can’t breathe.”

Franklin frantically searched through your pockets, both pants and coat, but it wasn’t there. 

“Baby hey." Frantic, he cupped your face with both hands before searching the pockets a second time. 

He must have understood the color change. The one that looked the same on everyone when they couldn't breathe. You wondered if your lips had gone blue. 

“Where is it? Where is your inhaler at?” 

You figured an asthma attack was a lot like drowning, but then, you would never know the exact difference. You’d never been in danger of drowning before. At Least not in water. 

“This was a pose to be quick. I didn’t b-bring i-t, frank, h-help me.” you could hear the disorientation of your words.You had begun to pull at his shirt, shooting yourself into a panic as you slipped a hand up around your neck clawing and struggling for any type of relief. 

“Fuck!” Franklin removed your grip on him, laid you on the ground and scrambled to his feet to reach for the phone. He hung up on your mother, picked it up again and dialed 911. He kept his eye on you hitting the top of the counter and pacing as if urging them to hurry the fuck up. 

"Uh, yeah hi. My name is Franklin Saint. I work at Cho's grocery store. Yeah. Uh. Yeah my girlfriend, she's havin' an asthma attack. She doesn't have her inhaler on her. Please. Help. She. Please just hurry. Send an ambulance!" 

Pretty soon you were lifted up. Arms were around you. You assumed they were Franklin's. You could hear his voice in the distance of your mind as an echo, but just barely. Encouraging you that help was on the way. To take deep breaths. Stay calm. 

Yeah. You were way past that. You were literally about to die!  

You forced yourself to turn your gaze on him as you wheezed. The struggle, slowing down, but not in a good way. Although your ears were ringing, and it felt like you were being crushed under a semi truck, you could hear Franklin even while his form began to blur out as your eyes clouded. There was such worry in his voice, such urgency to get you some assistance. Such care. You were sorry. Sorry that you ever said it was over, despite the choice he’d made. 

You wished you could tell him that. 

You closed your eyes instead.

…………………………………………………………..

Taglist:  @mysticalblackhottie @muvasuperior @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7

[aloneandforsakenbyfateandbyman]

Some of my fave religious-themed movies in which God provides the protagonist with divine spiritual revelations through his wisdom!

Last Temptation is controversial because it’s perceived as blasphemous, but I appreciate how it humanized and presented a different side of Christ. I wanted to hate the Passion of the Christ because of its gory infamy, but it actually had me shook and helped me comprehend the pain of Christ’s crucifixion. And The Passion of Joan of Arc is gut wrenching as her life and trial also unfolded in a Christ-like manner as well.

The Ten Commandments, The Robe, and Ben Hur all speak to my love of biblical epics, as they beautifully illustrate parts of the New and Old Testament. Lion of the Desert and Malcolm X both show the power of Islam in strengthening the individual and giving him limitless power through belief in Allah.

As for the Holy Mountain and Siddhartha… they’re actually more like new age/shamanic/mysticism, as I think both Hesse and Jodorowsky have ambivalent and atheistic views towards organized religion. Yet they’re on the list because at least they tried to invoke something higher lol!

In compiling this list, I found that actual religious movies of substance are so rare?? And I don’t mean bad Protestant Lifetimes movies lmao. Like there are tons of movies criticizing religion, but why so much venality in the film industry towards religion?

Whereas in the art and music world, religion plays a massive role. So it’s interesting to try and uncover cinema that actually affirms and strengthens one’s faith instead of just brewing doubt and antipathy towards any sense of spirituality.

[expertfool]

that scene in s2ep1 when malcolm pats ollie’s cheek and says, “good lad,” changed ollie’s life for sure. even in his disapproval about using hugh and disappointment in himself for going along with it, that little pat on the cheek and “good lad” was the last axe against ollie’s moral backbone before it crumbled down and the first damning moment he realized he really would roll over and take it. it had always been a hypothetical before, but now here it is right in front of him. all the evidence ollie needs to know who he really is, and the shame and disappointment and sheer gratitude for that little pat and “good lad” wash over him. all that just to get a half-decent look from malcolm, and there’s a dark, warm, wet part of ollie curled up somewhere between his lower intestines that emanates disappointment through his whole being like cancer that he should even feel gratitude for malcolm’s flippant appreciation that’ll disappear the moment malcolm turns away like he never cared to begin with. ollie’d probably let him get away with a quick pat on the cheek and “good lad” after a blowjob, turning away before ollie could even fumble in his pants; the shock of malcolm’s touch and “good lad” dead in his ears is all ollie needs to hang his head and let malcolm walk away and be grateful for the blithe praise.

[cyarsk52-20]

The biggest protest in Super Bowl history happened on the Stage tonight and folk screaming it's boring or trash because it went over their head! This what you didn't see. . Then again the message is Blacks have always been here to entertain THEY (Who are not like us) so they aren't bored. . They rather have Wayne up there high, who has backed Drake (The system) to push the agenda. . The messages Kendrick just sent to America could not use Wayne.

It even started with the American Flag being built out of black people as America being built on the backs of black people. . Before I mention how being cool in our culture has always been stolen, no matter how many people try to steal it, they not like us. . WAS NOT ABOUT WHITE PEOPLE.. IT WAS ABOUT THE PEOPLE WHO CONTROL THE MEDIA AND LABELS WHO CREATE DIVIDE. OK HERE GOES! . It started with Dead Pres intro beat and flow "Bigger than Hiphop" I'll put the video in comments. . First song: WHEN I HEAR MUSIC, IT MAKES ME DANCE (SQUABBLE UP). Puppet Strings of music making us dance vs pay attention. . Uncle (Sam)uel L Jackson started it off with the rules of the game of historical White America America. . Then Said when a bunch of blacks hanging out on the corner is too deep for the culture. Somebody gotta die. Deduct a life and create an environment to cancel each other out . The Squid games start which symbolizes the rich killing the poor for entertainment. Hmm. Imagine rappers beefing and killing and the media benefitting from their deaths. . The system allows Drake to push the Sexxxy Redd to taint the culture and empowers him . The dancers in Red White & Blue representing the American flag. Been Dancing to the drums of the system. And we want entertainment and to be able to dance than be educated. . The main Stage was a Playstation. Squid Game card 🔻🟥🔴️ and the system is a game designed to keep us dancing and imprisoned which is why it was in a prison yard. . Protecting black women like Serena Williams after the disrespect from Drake . Notice he brought out SZA as a black woman and she did not have to be half naked on display for the world letting her voice shine? . And once again reminding the system of Drake and America "They (Plants) are Not Like Us" and can't infiltrate the culture. . Game Over.. TV OFF. Been under their control. Revolution. . Drake Been used to further sour the system and be a plant for the same system Malcolm X warned about from the music execs who own media and use it to divide us. . This is bigger than rap! And women who feel disrespected should see it.

People who are tired of being divided should see it. Notice the American flag divided? . But most of all, those who didn't have a lens to see it just shows the system has worked and you're the type it's been working on. . Dude is the most creative genius in hiphop history. . But go off. Maybe we can see more well respected entrepreeurs and family men leading for once. . Here is the kicker: Look at your fb friends who say they wish it was more entertaining. Yeah, they were who it's been working on. The system rather keep you choosing entertainment over being educated . Watch the first 10 secs of his rap. Dead Pres reference Bigger Than Hiphop. True Art! . Rappers sent as plants to hurt us will no longer be tolerated. WE ARE WOKE. If you're mad at it please don't complain about being looked at a certain way. . Because if you keep praising the entertainers who promote killing each other and degrading our women. I guess America will think it's OK too. . Watch the comments fill up with "Nothing will change" from people who are ok waiting for it to change vs doing their part. . The point he was making was… Come to this post in 24 hours and watch how many of us are fighting the message and messenger vs thinking of positive growth to move forward . You don't expect shucking and jiving and twerking from an artist who was the only rapper ever to win a Pulitzer Prize. You appreciate ART. And Art is sometimes boring but changes cultures.

Them: We watch Super Bowl to be entertained . Well it's 2025. The Super Bowl performance goes on Youtube and we can talk about it for weeks and hopefully lead to Unity and Change. .

[marointhemoon]

Yes, please infodump! I always enjoy reading your thinking behind your fics.

Limiting myself to four, but more than happy to drop another ask later if you're up for it!

1 - Not everyone can be the main character!

13 - drowning in affection

14 - loophole

22 - go in service

okay okay okay an infodump to tire myself out once and for all before i collapse into bed (it's about midnight where i am and i FINALLY finished the very first part of my lady of mercy. i'm going to clean it up tomorrow and finally post it and i am very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very excited.

SO! i'm gonna briefly chat about the general vibe of each thing and give an excerpt if there's one that i particularly like. what i'm saying is you're going to be eating very very well.

Not everyone can be the main character!

What's the vibe: A slice-of-life chronicle of life going on on the NX-01, outside of what the Main Seven do. There's laughs. There's gaffs. There's character development for characters you have literally never heard of. It's a little bit of an OC fic without 100% being an OC fic.

Who does it feature: A metric fuckton of side characters. You've got the usual suspects (e.g., Rostov, Kelly, Hess, Cutler), for sure. But you also have some people who had literal seconds of screentime (e.g., Zabel, Fletcher, Tanner, Jane Taylor). You've got people who straight up only appeared in the novels (Ravi Chandra, Mireya Meir, Donna O'Neill) (characterization may vary). You're got straight up OCs (e.g., both of Malcolm's seconds-in-command (because I 100% refuse to believe that one member of personnel would have been seated with all of his administrative shit)). As I say, there's laughs, there's gaffs, there's chaos, there's character development.

When can we expect to see it in full: Not for a good long while. All told, this work is probably my white whale, and it will probably be simultaneously the richest yet most piecemeal thing I create for a good long while.

An excerpt:

April 13th, 2151. 1600 hours. “Lieutenant senior-grade Annika Hess, reporting for duty.” “Commander Trip Tucker—Trip’s just fine. You must be mah new second. You just get promoted?” “Ah—yes, sir.” Shit. What did I say? “You don’t have to say ‘senior-grade’.” “Oh. Right.” I can already feel my face going red. Commander Tucker laughs lightly, and I feel like dying. “This must be yer first time in command, too, huh?” “Ah… yes, sir.” How humiliating. Trip smiles and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Well, you’re here on time and ya seem to have yer wits about ya. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” I allow myself an uneasy chuckle. “I appreciate that, sir.” “Ah mean it. Ah’ve heard nothin’ but good things from yer past COs. Couldn’t ask for a more qualified second.” Americans and their flattery. I swallow thickly, trying to get myself to say something. Anything, so long as I don’t further embarrass myself.

drowning in affection

What's the vibe: The thing that was supposed to be my submission for Drown Malcolm Reed Month. Basically Malcolm is touch starved as fuck, so Trip and Hoshi offer him a cuddle sesh. He refuses for months, until a bad day hits (complete with edible arrangement in the form of a migraine) and he's left with few other options than to accept the affection or wallow in misery.

Who does it feature: Malcolm, Trip, and Hoshi. I wanted to experiment with the idea of them as a threesome, but not necessarily as a romantic or sexual one.

When can we expect to see it in full: Not for a while, albeit not as long of a while as the slice of life thing. IMO, this is kind of rushed and piecemeal, much more so than I'd like. Just because it's the G-rated equivalent of PWP, that doesn't mean I want it to be completely contrived. Ultimately, I want to flesh it out significantly so that things make sense.

An excerpt:

Before he thinks better of it, he’s commed Trip to let him know to expect him. It feels like he’s doing something wrong, somehow. Like he’s heading off to be taken apart and debauched, as though Trip and Hoshi think the solution to his migraine is to fuck his brains out. But he knows them well enough; that was never the offer being made. This was never a sex thing, nor was it even an offer of a romantic relationship. Still, protests that small, defensive, ever-insecure part of his soul. The stern, sardonic, stiff-lipped Chief of Security, off to be cuddled? Suddenly, he’s ringing Trip’s doorchime. The door opens, and things start to happen relatively quickly. Trip offers his hand. Malcolm lets himself be pulled into the dark room. He’s sat down on the comforter of Trip’s bunk. Hoshi’s not far behind him, come to help along the plan she’d hatched. She crawls onto the bed, behind him. Her body nears his, and he shivers as he feels her nails lightly trail over his shoulders. She settles in, resting her head right between his shoulder blades, drawing a contented hum from both of them. Then, the piece de resistance: Scritch, scritch, scritch. Malcolm mushes his face into Trip’s shoulder, feeling his spine turn to jelly as the engineer's blunt nails gently scratch at the base of his skull. “Aww…” Trip can’t help himself, his baritone drawl at full strength. “Does that feel good?” “Fuck off.” At least, that’s what Malcolm wants to say. What comes out instead is a low, disgruntled whine, which only makes Trip pull him closer and Hoshi coo with adoration. That’s a new one: adoration. People have been attracted to him, that’s true enough. He knows what that’s like— to be wanted, desired —but this is different. Trip and Hoshi don’t just want him. They like him. They want to take care of him. That’s new. And oh, it feels good. Trip’s hands move, his thumbs sometimes coming back to rub firm little circles behind his ears. If either he or Hoshi say anything in the next minute, it’s lost to warm, sleepy oblivion.

loophole

What's the vibe: Hoshi's having nightmares and the NX-01 rumor mill is a well-oiled machine, so she finds out about T'Pol's neuropressure "services" (such as they are) and decides to see if she can't be helped.

Who does it feature: T'Pol and Hoshi. The original intention wasn't to have it be explicitly shippy, but the work is so early in the process that there's still some room for me to change my mind.

An excerpt:

As it was, Hoshi stood nervously outside of her quarters. She’d been trying to muster the courage to ring the door chime for the last hour and struggling to sleep for the last three. Falling and staying asleep had started getting harder a week ago, and things had been steadily getting worse since then. Last night, she’d only gotten three hours of sleep. She couldn’t keep on like this. Despite her anxiety, Hoshi yawned. What time was it, 0130? Was the Sub-commander even awake? Oh, to hell with it. Hoshi rang the doorchime. “Come in,” said a low, feminine voice. There was no hesitation behind it. Hoshi took a steadying breath. She could do this. She opened the door and timidly stepped into T’Pol’s quarters. A faint smell—incense?—hit her nose, and she immediately felt a little calmer. T’Pol looked up from where she’d been meditating, her expression neutral as ever. “Ensign. What can I do for you?” “Hi. Um…” Hoshi sighed, already feeling her cheeks going warm. “Look. I heard through the grapevine that you’ve been doing neuropressure to help with sleep issues. I’ve been dealing with similar things, and I thought about trying to do it myself, but I’ve also heard that you can get really hurt if you do it wrong. If you’re not comfortable doing it, that’s fine, I just wanted to—” “Ensign,” T’Pol said calmly, cutting Hoshi off. The younger woman snapped her mouth shut. “I…” Hoshi was stunned. The Sub-Commander, at a loss for words? She was so screwed. “Normally,” she said, snapping Hoshi out of her reverie. “Neuropressure is a fairly intimate act. Along the lines of massage or acupuncture. Having said that, it’s logical that you would want to see someone who knows what they are doing. I … I can appreciate your being proactive in that regard. My concern has more to do with fraternization. You are, after all, in my direct line of command.” “I understand.” Hoshi looked away. “Just … forget I said anything. Please don’t report me.” T’Pol blinked. “Why would I report you?” “I don’t know, I just … didn’t want to come off too strong. I’m being weird. Sorry.” T’Pol regarded Hoshi for a moment. To the best of her knowledge, Starfleet’s fraternization regulations prohibited personal relationships: romance, cohabitation, sexual intercourse, and things of that nature. This didn’t seem to be a proposition for any of those things. Quite the opposite: even taking it in the least charitable light possible, Ensign Sato was asking for something slightly more intimate than their professional relationship allowed. It wasn’t as though T’Pol had no boundaries; she could push back if things went out of hand. Besides, she figured, Sato’s work is bound to suffer if she doesn’t rest. T’Pol fought the urge to wrinkle her nose in disgust. If she could do this for Corporal Cole, surely she could do it for her ensign.

go in service

What's the vibe: T'Pol is well outside of her pon farr and therefore has almost no sex drive. Unfortunately, Trip does. Luckily, thinking outside of the box has always been one of his strengths.

TL;DR - T'Pol is grey-ace and outside of her pon farr, so ServiceTop!Trip, wanting to both get off and make her feel good, does a body worship.

Who does it feature: Trip and T'Pol. I really like the idea of ServiceTop!Trip, especially as applied to non-sexual contexts. I suspect, given everything that's happened between them (sexually and not) that there's this really easy intimacy between them. Not totally identical to a human couple, to be sure, but they're certainly not shy with each other in terms of nudity.

HOWEVER!

I also wanted to explore the idea of T'Pol being on the ace spectrum, particularly outside of her pon farr. I feel like it's pretty reasonable to assume that Vulcans have sexualities outside of that, regardless of whether they express them or not (traditionalists like Soval might not, but others like T'Pau, Spock, and T'Pol might). Even so, it follows that acespec Vulcans are a thing, and I wanted to try to balance that idea with how sexual Trip and T'Pol's relationship canonically is. Obviously, T'Pol is sexually attracted to Trip, and obviously she's not 100% sex-repulsed, but there's absolutely nuance beyond that that I think could be super interesting!

An excerpt:

Trip pressed his lips to T’Pol’s, unhurried and gentle. There was, at most, a very delicate heat to it, Trip softly humming and moaning in the back of his throat. Faintly, T’Pol wondered if he’d try to introduce his tongue—she would have had no problem with that—but he never did. He wasn’t there to claim her, or attempt to make her submit. These kisses were gentle and patient, calm and easygoing. Ultimately, this was why she would always want Trip. He was her peace, and she knew she was his. For him, a shelter from the chaos of his circumstances. For her, an outlet for the chaos of her mind. Almost meditating on that, she allowed herself a long, slow breath, prompting him to hum approvingly. He pulled away, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, before starting to kiss his way up her cheek. He smiled as she turned her head, allowing him more access. “That good, darling?” She hummed in approval. Hesitating for a moment, he pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear. She shuddered. He paused, concerned. “That okay?” It was her turn to hesitate. “I… would prefer that you not. I have changed my mind.” “No worries.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, prompting another hum. “Thanks for tellin’ me.” Gently turning her head, he kissed her other temple. She allowed herself a sigh, and he smiled even wider, trailing kisses down the other side of her face, then down her jaw. As he reached her neck, his hands came to rest on her waist. “Let’s get you settled and relaxed, shall we?”

i hope you enjoyed my infodumping! i'd be happy to share more if you want to hear more! for now, i'm going to bed!

thanks for the ask!

for those just joining, the link to the original ask game is right here!

[pamsimmerchallenges]

end of the brithday party that malcolm turned this about his wedding haha

-

malcolm: you know my wedding is about to happen soon and i was thinking about you being the flower pal... what do you think?

aaron: me? really? that could be cool!

malcolm: is that a yes?

aaron: yes, uncle mal!

malcolm: i already talked to aaron about him being the flower pal and i was thinking about you being the ring bearer... what do you think?

milo: that’s exciting!!

malcolm: i really appreciate you

milo: i can’t wait!

-

nancy: my beloved grandson!

nancy: happy birthday! you’re becoming a man each day, huh?! i hope you make better choices in life than your father.

milo: uh... thanks, grandma?!

-

malcolm: cassie and i talked, nat... and we want you to be our sim of honor. since you played matchmaker

natalie: me? not your brother... me?

malcolm: yes, natalie. you. you earned the title.

natalie: omg! yes? yes!! yes! i’ll be your sim of honor!

natalie: you grew up so much, mal!! i’m so so happy for you and cassie! you’re like a little brother to me, you know that... don’t you?

malcolm: and you’re like a sister to me, natalie.

malcolm: i hope you and johnny figure things out

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 23 (The Heat of Summer)

A sweltering heatwave hit Brindleton Bay in Heather’s third trimester, and to escape the haze inland she spent her days off indoors or on the coast. Uninvited, Everett visited again with his dog, JJ. (And then this Watcher had had enough!) Heather guiltily enjoyed his company at the seashore knowing Spencer and Greyson were back in Oasis Springs without him.

"I didn't know you picked up the guitar," said Heather, as he strummed a few bars in the sunshine.

Everett grinned. "It helps get Greyson to sleep, and the parishioners like it."

"Won't Greyson and Spencer be missing you? Why did you come back here?"

He matched her guilt through his pale green eyes. "I wanted to make sure you were okay out here by yourself."

"Did you come back because Malcolm and I aren't together anymore?"

He waffled. "Maybe. But it might be worse than that. I think I resent Spencer because she can't have more kids. I know it's not her fault, and I feel horrible, but I can't stop thinking about wanting more."

"I've felt a lot of ways about you in my life, Everett, but the one thing I never wanted to be was a replacement for Spencer. I don't need that. We don't need that. For the foreseeable future, at least, the only man I want to make significant time for is my son."

With a nod, Everett put down his guitar. "We're friends. Just friends."

The words brought Heather unexpected comfort, like a cool blanket in the sweltering heat. So this is what it felt like not to wish for a future with Everett Pancakes. "I'm glad we can finally say it."

For the rest of Everett's stay, Heather explored new corners of her adopted hometown with her oldest friend in the world. His visit felt a bit like a fever dream, disconnected from the reality of who they really were.

But maybe that was just the heat.

"What am I going to say to Spencer when I get back?" he wondered as they watched the sunset over the beach at Cavalier Cove. They leaned with their backs against the tortoise sand sculpture they'd built, and Everett dragged his fingers through the sand.

"I don't know what you should say," Heather said. "You know the Watcher's Holy Book better than me, but I think They would hope you cherished the gifts you've been given."

"Is that your plan for single motherhood?"

She shrugged. "I guess so, yeah."

"You're more ready than me and Spencer before we had Greyson."

"Even though my son's crib is in the living room?"

When Everett returned to Oasis Springs, he found Spencer trying to soothe their fussy son to sleep in his crib. "Hey, I'm home," he announced, but she turned to look at him with an icy stare. He anxiously moved to sit on the bed.

"I feel for Heather's predicament, but you need to tell me right now if your visits are anything more than platonic."

Everett recalled his earlier conversation with Heather. "Whatever feelings we once had aren't there now," he said honestly. "But Heather and I did talk about...about us."

"You and me? You could tell her something about your relationship with me that I don't even know?" Spencer felt her heartrate quicken.

Everett frowned. "I think you do know...I want more kids. I know you think Greyson is more than enough. I love you so much, but I'm scared, Spence. I'm afraid Greyson will never be enough for me, and I know you can't fix it."

Spencer broke down. "I know what I said about Greyson, and I stand by it. He's amazing - why wouldn't he be enough?"

"It's not that!"

She cut him off. "I don't think we should make any decisions about anything right now, but I've done some research on surrogacy and adoption, and I'm open to the possibility of talking about our options."

They both needed time to really think about the idea, but Everett appreciated that his wife was hoping to meet him in somewhere in the middle. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

[shrinkthisviolet]

It's Love Letters Night! Send love and positivity to your favorite writers and bloggers!

This got really long so I’m sticking it under a cut 😅:

@negative-speedforce you are absolutely amazing. I love your posts and fics, I love Siv, and I love how much you love Nora (your fic about both versions of Nora sharing a name and the ✨insecurity✨ that would cause lives in my head RENT-FREE) and!! You’re an Iris and Reva defender just like me!! 🥰

@vexic929 you’re so amazing and fun to talk to! You have such wacky off-the-wall ideas and you make them work so well and I love you for it 💞 Malcolm, Berrie, and Beth in particular are so dear to me, and so are their fics!

@goldheartedchaoticdisaster you’re so fun to talk to, especially the OUAT stuff lately 🥰 I also always appreciate seeing your comments on my fics, they’re always long and wonderful and you’re just a delight. I can’t wait to see how you write Rowan, I love Nicky and Stephanie, I love your characterization of Mike Barnes and his family (canon to me!! Everyone read “bad boy (no more)”, it’s so good), and your CK Mini-Rewrites? *chefs kiss* you should’ve written the show

@angst-is-love-angst-is-life you pulled me into my current whump fixation headfirst 😂 I love reading through the whump prompts on your sideblog (@whump-is-love-whump-is-life, for anyone who wants to check it out), and I love talking to you 🥰 you also make me cry with how much you hurt Barry in Trophy and 12 hours, but I respect the whumpy endeavors

@fezwearingjellybananas you’re such a delight 🥰 you pulled me into Snowest with “Milk and Sugar”, your fics are so fun to read (and often a niche/novel premise), and I love seeing your sweet comments on my fics! I also so love the cycle of inspiration we’re in 😂 (for context, they got inspired by my Morgan AU to write Speedster Siblings, which (along with Gone in a Flash) then inspired me to write my Daddy Issues AU)

@starstruckpurpledragon (aka @kitkatt0430), you are wonderful and amazing and you’ve written so many amazing fics and meta for this fandom!! You have great takes, super interesting ideas…and you’re so wonderful to talk to. You also (along with @alittleflashvibe) pulled me into Saverb with “You Must Live (For Me)” 😂 much appreciated for that

@alittleflashvibe you are a delight and incredible and your Barrisco takes are such a highlight of this webbed site 💞 you always get me to see something new in their scenes, it’s terrific. You also pulled me into shipping Barrisco in general 😂 (you and @starstruckpurpledragon, as I mentioned above)

@frosty-the-killer-doll hiii I know we don’t talk a lot but I just wanted you to know you’re incredible and I love your takes on Caitlin and Frost—you’ve gotten me to see them both in new ways (that web weaving post about how Frost’s instinct to protect was corrupted by vengeance?? That was inspired, and it’s only one of your many great takes about her and Caitlin!). I also love love LOVE the Jesse fic you wrote, it’s like you read my mind fr 💞 love having you as my mutual

@icedteaandoldlace you’re so wonderful too! I’ve loved following along with your comments as you read my Morgan AU…and you’ve given me such a wonderful appreciation for Kamilla and Kamisco. Your Kamilla & Caitlin friendship fic is so sweet and I love it to pieces

@blackaquokat where to even begin 😅 we’ve been mutuals for like…what, years now? I don’t even remember how it started, but I DO remember your WKM fics and how incredible they are 🥰 your OC for the DA is absolutely how I view them, and your fics are so canon to me, you deserve all the love for crafting such a meticulous world from the pieces Mark gave us.

@seek--rest your fics are OUT OF THIS WORLD and so are your takes!! You’re one of my favorite Spidey fic authors (and that’s a very short list 😂), you’ve gotten me to see him and MJ in such incredible new ways (Irondad but make it MJ!! Ingenious!!), and you have great takes overall (your post-Blip meta my beloved!!), here and in the discord. You also wrote the May & Sally fic of my DREAMS!! Some people might call you an “absolute displeasure to know”, but I couldn’t disagree more, you’re wonderful 💞

@abcd-em on the note of “Irondad but make it MJ”, Vagary lives in my head rent-free 💞 you’ve written PeterMJ in so many wonderful ways, but that in particular really sticks with me. And you’re such a sweet person in general

@hollow-dweller speaking of great takes…hollow you’re practically oozing with them, here and on the discord. I always come away learning something, and you just have so many amazing thoughts?? Also I keep thinking about the Peter & Jessica fic you wrote like…oh my god?? Inspired?? I must applaud you 👏👏

@robbyykeene your CK takes are so incredible, you’re the first account I go to for them, I love reading your posts. You’re so right 💞

@leohttbriar i adore your fics! Your Samtory ones live in my head rent-free, and so does “for what do we live (but to make sport for our neighbours)” like!! You Get It!! You Get Penelope and Charlotte!!

@jenpsaki I can hardly talk about Samtory and not mention you, when you’re the one who pulled me into this ship with “different but same” 🥰 and thank you so very much for that

@arrthurpendragon you are a key pillar of the OC community and so wonderful 🥹 thank you for hosting that exchange event back in July of last year, it pulled me into the OC community and I’m so grateful for it

@lady-of-the-spirit you’re delightful to talk to, you have great takes for pretty much everything (ESPECIALLY Star Wars), I love Hestia, and I’ve never seen HOTD but I love how passionate you are about Alicent 💞

@basimibnishaqs speaking of having great takes about Star Wars…🥰 Rey & Luke being father and daughter especially, I LOVE your posts on the subject. And this fic you wrote about them!! An AU ofc but so very sweet to me 💞

@practically-an-x-man you and I are fairly new to being mutuals but I love having you as one 💞 still chugging through the Ophelia fic, but I love it so far! And ofc as I mentioned before, you write AMAZING whump (as shown in this incredible fic!)

@azaablue your ATLA fics are out of this world, but “beautiful boy” and “Push and Pull” in particular always sticks with me 💞 all the kudos in the world, you Get It, and you’re so wonderful. A gem in the ATLA fandom

@calliopieces your Maiko fics are a GEM in The ATLA fandom, especially “crowning glory” 💞 you just Get Mai and her family situation, and especially Fire Nation girlhood, and I love this fic so much for it

[learningfromlosing]

Malcolm in the Middle is such an amazing show. The acting was seriously saturated in pure talent. The writing was so funny. The characters had such depth to them. You watch it today and get so much nostalgia for the late 90s early 2000s without feeling like it's a cheesy representation. With my family life, I used to relate so much to the horrible mother troupe and id hate Lois and I would sympathize with the kids and feel seen; and now that I'm an adult and I can process things so much better and I can see there're huge differences between my own mother and Lois and I can appreciate Lois more as a mother and character now; while actually seeing someone I can relate to now as well. With that I love seeing how much Hal genuinely loves Lois with all of himself. He's just obsessed with her and I genuinely believe it. It's the exact opposite of the shows at the time where husbands hate their wives and gawk at other women. There's an entire episode where Lois is literally angry because she cannot fathom that Hal, after all the years of marriage has never thought or looked at another woman when she's looked at other men; it was just agreed upon, brought up by him, that he loves her more and it genuinely wouldn't work as well if she did. I love being able to love this show so much as a kid and take as much as I did then, and be able to rewatch it again as an adult, see it through a different perspective and get even more out of it now. I can see how beautiful Lois is as a woman and I never could when I was young. I can still sympathize with the kids as I did when I was one, but I can also see the grown up version of how things are handled and can understand all the sides. It's truly an amazing piece of media.

[camisoledadparis]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … January 31

1729 – A Prussian baker is executed for fellating another man who later died, according to the court, of "exhaustion."

1797 – Austrian composer Franz Schubert was born (d.1828). He wrote some six hundred Lieder, nine symphonies (including the famous "Unfinished Symphony"), liturgical music, operas and a large body of chamber and solo piano music. He is particularly noted for original melodic and harmonic writing.

While Schubert had a close circle of friends and associates who admired his work (including his teacher Antonio Salieri and the prominent singer Johann Michael Vogl), wider appreciation of his music during his lifetime was limited at best. He was never able to secure adequate permanent employment, and for most of his career he relied on the support of friends and family. Interest in Schubert's work increased dramatically in the decades following his death.

Schubert was significantly influenced by his close-knit group of male friends, known as the Schubert Circle. His relationships with an older school friend Joseph von Spaun, the young poet Johann Mayrhofer, and the wealthy young sensualist Franz von Schober were the most important of his life. He and Schober often lived together for extended periods.

Citing the composer's dissipation, his lack of female love interests, his passionate male friendships and several oblique references in his surviving correspondence, Maynard Solomon has argued that Schubert's primary erotic orientation was homosexual. The immediate reaction on the part of many musicologists and music critics, who often simply refused to consider the evidence, revealed a deep-seated homophobia among many specialists in classical music. But in recent years the notion of a gay Schubert has become if not commonplace, at least much less controversial. Schubert's alleged homosexuality and its effect on his music are subjects of continuing debate among music historians and critics.

1914 – Edward Melcarth (d.1973) was a painter, sculptor, illustrator, lecturer and teacher, born in Louisville, Kentucky, as Edward Epstein Jr. Edward Melcarth who dared to live as an openly homosexual man and not hiding his support for communism did not earn a significant place in modern art’s canonical history for exactly those reasons.

He was active on New York’s burgeoning, post-World War II art scene; his work was shown at the Museum of Modern Art in the 1940s and at Manhattan galleries over a decades-long timespan, and he knew just about everyone, including the multimillionaire art collector and Forbes magazine publisher, Malcolm Forbes; his circle also included many other artists as well as countless, now nameless hustlers, sailors, beach bums, and representatives of working-class “trade” who posed for his pictures and with whom he had sex.

Summer Morning

Melcarth was born Edward Epstein to Jewish parents in Louisville in 1914. After his father died, his mother, whose family discouraged her from becoming an opera singer, remarried a wealthy British aristocrat. Edward, who would reject religion and change his surname to that of an ancient Phoenician god, was educated in London and at Harvard University; later he studied art in Boston with the German-born painter Karl Zerbe.

The gay, Kentucky-born artist Henry Faulkner, the photographer Thomas Painter, and Melcarth lived together in New York for some time during the decades following WWII. They shared friends, artistic interests — and sexual partners, too.

Painter was one of the research subjects who provided testimonials about his own and his homosexual associates’ sexual activities to the pioneering sexologist Alfred Kinsey. His reports were detailed, and from them we learn that Melcarth's appetite for sex was rapacious.

In the late 1960s, Melcarth left New York and settled in Venice, where he focused on making sculpture and died in 1973. At some point during his New York years, he had met Malcolm Forbes, who became a regular collector-patron and, after Melcarth’s death, acquired a large quantity of his works, and has been the source of many expositions of Melcarth's art.

1948 – Paul Jabara (d.1992) was an American actor, singer, and songwriter of Lebanese ancestry.

Paul wrote Donna Summer's "Last Dance" from Thank God It's Friday (1978) and Barbra Streisand's song "The Main Event/Fight" from The Main Event (1979). He cowrote the Weather Girls hit, "It's Raining Men" with Paul Shaffer.

Jabara was in the original cast of the stage musicals Hair and Jesus Christ Superstar. He took over the role of Frank-N-Furter in the Los Angeles Production of The Rocky Horror Show when Tim Curry left the production to film the movie version in England. He appeared in John Schlesinger's 1975 film, "The Day of the Locust", where he sang the production number "Hot Voo-Doo"

In 1979, Jabara won both Grammy Award for Best R&B Song and the Academy Award for Best Original Song for the song performed by Donna Summer, "Last Dance". Jabara's album Paul Jabara & Friends, released in 1983, features guest vocals by a then-20 year old Whitney Houston. It also includes the song "It's Raining Men". That song was later re-recorded several years later by drag supermodel RuPaul and Martha Wash. Wash sang on the original recording as part of the group the Weather Girls.

Jabara co-founded the Red Ribbon Project in 1991, and is credited with conceiving and distributing the first AIDS Red Ribbon.

Paul Jabara died of AIDS in Los Angeles at the age of 44 on September 29, 1992.

1952 – Brad Gooch is an American writer.

Born and raised in Kingston, Pennsylvania, he graduated from Columbia University with a bachelors in 1973 and a doctorate in 1986.

Gooch is currently a Professor of English at William Paterson University in New Jersey. He has lived in New York City since 1971. His 2015 memoir Smash Cut recounts life in 1970s and 1980s New York City, including the time Gooch spent as a fashion model, life with his then-boyfriend filmmaker Howard Brookner, living in the famous Chelsea Hotel and the first decade of the AIDS crisis.

Gooch is married to writer and religious activist Paul Raushenbush; they have one child.

1973 – Portia Lee James DeGeneres, known professionally as Portia de Rossi, is an Australian-American actress, model and philanthropist, known for her roles as lawyer Nelle Porter on the television series Ally McBeal and Lindsay Fünke on the sitcom Arrested Development. She also portrayed Veronica Palmer on the ABC sitcom Better Off Ted and Olivia Lord on Nip/Tuck. She is married to American stand-up comedian, television host and actress Ellen DeGeneres.

De Rossi, born Amanda Lee Rogers in Horsham, Victoria, Australia grew up in Grovedale, a suburb of Geelong, Victoria, and modelled for print and TV commercials as a child. In 1988, at the age of 15, Rogers adopted the name Portia de Rossi, by which she remains best known; in 2005, she explained that she had intended to reinvent herself, using the given name of Portia, a character from William Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, and an Italian last name.

De Rossi was married to documentary film-maker Mel Metcalfe from 1996 to 1999, initially part of a plan to get a green card, but she did not go through with it. She said that "it just obviously wasn't right for me". In a 2010 interview on Good Morning America, she explained that as a young actress, she was fearful of being exposed as a lesbian.

From 2000 to 2004, de Rossi dated singer Francesca Gregorini, the daughter of Barbara Bach and the stepdaughter of Ringo Starr. She said that most of her family and Ally McBeal castmates did not know she was a lesbian until tabloid pictures of the couple were published. She declined to publicly discuss the relationship or her sexual orientation at the time.

De Rossi and Gregorini broke up in late 2004 because de Rossi began dating Ellen DeGeneres, whom she met backstage at an awards show. In 2005, she opened up publicly about her sexual orientation in interviews with Details and The Advocate. She became engaged when DeGeneres proposed with a three-carat pink diamond ring. They were married at their Beverly Hills home on 16 August 2008, witnessed by their mothers and 17 other guests. On 6 August 2010, Portia filed a petition to legally change her name to Portia Lee James DeGeneres. The petition was granted on 23 September 2010. She became a US citizen in September 2011.

In 2010, de Rossi published the autobiography Unbearable Lightness which talks about the turmoil that she has experienced in her life, including suffering from anorexia nervosa and bulimia and being misdiagnosed with lupus.

1979 – Daniel Tammet is an English essayist, novelist, poet, translator, and autistic savant. His memoir, Born on a Blue Day (2006), is about his early life with Asperger syndrome and savant syndrome, and was named a "Best Book for Young Adults" in 2008 by the American Library Association's Young Adult Library Services magazine. His second book, Embracing the Wide Sky, was one of France's best-selling books of 2009. His third book, Thinking in Numbers, was published in 2012 by Hodder & Stoughton in the United Kingdom and in 2013 by Little, Brown and Company in the United States and Canada.

In 2016 he published his debut novel, Mishenka, in France and Quebec. His books have been published in over 20 languages. He was elected in 2012 to serve as a fellow of the Royal Society of Arts.

Tammet was born Daniel Paul Corney, the eldest of nine children, and raised in Barking and Dagenham, East London, England. As a young child, he suffered epileptic seizures, which remitted following medical treatment.

He participated twice in the World Memory Championships in London under his birth name, placing 11th in 1999 and 4th in 2000.

He changed his birth name by deed poll because "it didn't fit with the way he saw himself." He took the Estonian surname Tammet, which is related to "oak tree".

At age twenty-five, he was diagnosed with Asperger syndrome by Simon Baron-Cohen of the University of Cambridge Autism Research Centre. He is one of fewer than a hundred "prodigious savants" according to Darold Treffert, the world's leading researcher in the study of savant syndrome.

Tammet holds the European record for memorizing and recounting pi to 22,514 digits in just over five hours. This sponsored charity challenge was held in aid of the National Society for Epilepsy (NSE) on “Pi Day”, March 14, 2004, at the Museum of the History of Science, Oxford, UK.

He was the subject of a documentary film titled Extraordinary People: The Boy with the Incredible Brain, first broadcast on the British television station Channel 4 on 23 May 2005.

He met software engineer Neil Mitchell in 2000. They lived together as domestic partners in Kent, England, where they had a quiet life at home with their cats, preparing meals from their garden. He and Mitchell operated the online e-learning company Optimnem, where they created and published language courses.

Tammet now lives in Paris, France, with his husband Jérôme Tabet, a photographer whom he met while promoting his autobiography. Tammet is openly gay.

2017 – Thousands of gay and bisexual men who were convicted of now-abolished sexual offenses laws in Britain have been posthumously pardoned under a new policing law, the Justice Ministry announces. The law, which received Royal Assent on this day, is named after British WWII codebreaker Alan Turing, who committed suicide following his conviction for gross indecency and was posthumously pardoned by Her Majesty the Queen in 2013. It also makes it possible for living convicted gay men to seek pardons for offenses no longer on the statute book.