#if i had a nickel for every time someone who spells it colour asked me to make them a box

[sysboxes]

[Text: This system loves adores the colour purple.]

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[ramseyandrys]

Fluffy Alphabet: Ethan x MC

Hi! When I read @isabella-choices ‘s take on this (read it here!), I knew I had to write it for Ethan and my MC Tilly. I’m also thinking of doing one for Liam x MC, Beckett x MC, Mr. Sinclaire x MC, Cal x MC, and/or Adrian x MC. Let me know which you’d prefer!

Tag List: @isabella-choices @lilyofchoices @x-kyne-x @universallypizzataco

A = Attractive. What do they find attractive about each other?

Ethan is attracted to Tilly’s mind. There are times when he’s brought to his knees just by listening to her explain a rare blood disease. Superficially, Ethan is in love her tight brown curls. He loves to run his fingers through it. Tilly says it bothers her because he tangles it, but, truthfully, she loves it.

Tilly is also attracted Ethan’s mind, but, more than that, she’s attracted to how much he cares. Ethan puts his heart and soul into his work because he cares deeply about all of his patients even the ones who prove to be more than a little difficult. She loves him for that. His appearance is just an added benefit. Tilly’s often mesmerized by his light blue eyes, so much so that she occasionally forgets her train of thought while staring into them.

B = Baby. Do they want a family? Why/Why not?

Ethan never thought he’d have children. It wasn’t that he didn’t want them, but that he couldn’t imagine forsaking his job long enough to find someone to settle down with.

Tilly, however, has always wanted children. She used to want four, but, after doing a round in the pediatric ward for a week, she lowered it to one or two.

In the end, they have two children: a son named Parker and a daughter named Eli. Read about them here.

C = Cuddle. How do they cuddle?

Ethan claims he doesn’t like to cuddle. He puts up a fit whenever Tilly wraps her arms around his waist while he’s cooking or snuggles close to him in bed. Tilly can tell by his small smile that he secretly loves it. She can also tell because, every night, Ethan inches closer to her in the bed, making it easier for her to wrap her arms around his torso.

D = Dates. What are dates with them like?

Working in a hospital is exciting. It’s fast-paced. It’s an adrenaline rush. Going out to dinner and a movie just feels boring to Ethan and Tilly, so they don’t. Instead, every date they go on they do something different. It can be as simple as trying a new restaurant or riding in a hot air balloon. Ethan’s content with just going to a new restaurant, but Tilly likes to keep him on his toes.

E = Everything. You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…)

For Ethan, Tilly is his heart. She’s at the center of it and always will be.

For Tilly, Ethan is her giraffe. She insists it has nothing to do with his long neck, but they both know that’s a lie.

F = Feelings. When did they know they were falling in love?

They both knew for sure in Miami.

G = Gentle. Are they gentle? How so?

Neither Ethan nor Tilly are gentle with each other, particularly in the bedroom. They both love to push each other to their limits. When Ethan started to coddle Tilly when she got pregnant with their son, she all but screamed at him.

H = Holding Hands. How do they like to hold hands?

They don’t hold hands. Instead, Tilly always loops her arm through Ethan’s.

I = Impression. First impression/s?

The first impression Ethan had of Tilly was on paper. He knew she was an intelligent, ambitious doctor who an immense amount of potential.

Tilly’s first impression of Ethan was also on paper. She read an article of his on JSTOR. She googled his name, expecting him to be a stuffy, old man, but she instead got a stuffy, young man.

J = Joker. Are they into pulling pranks?

Ethan hates pranks. He tries to take off of work every April Fool’s Day, so he won’t fall victim to his coworkers and patients’ jokes.

Tilly, on the other hand, loves pranks. The best part about pranking Ethan is his reaction. He lets out an exasperated sigh and an aggravated, “Matilda Louise Ramsey!”

K = Kiss. How do they kiss?

They kiss passionately, holding nothing back.

L = Love. Who says ‘I love you’ first?

Ethan does.

M = Memory. What’s their favorite memory together?

For Ethan, it’s when Tilly says yes to his proposal. Read it here.

For Tilly, it’s when she sees Ethan meet his son for the first time.

N = Nickel. Do they spoil each other?

Neither Ethan nor Tilly are materialistic people. They value experiences more than they do things. So, Ethan will gladly spend a thousand dollars on a bottle of wine just for the few seconds of pleasure, and Tilly will just as eagerly splurge on a vacation to Santorini.

O = Orange. What colour reminds them of their other half?

Blue reminds Ethan of Tilly. When he first met her, she was in blue scrubs, and, from that day on, he’s associated her with that color.

Blue also reminds Tilly of Ethan. It isn’t just because of his eyes, but it’s also because of how calm the color blue makes her feel. When Ethan wants to be, he can be a very calming person. When he puts both of his hands on her shoulders and tells her to breathe, she swears she’s on a white sand beach.

P = Pet names. What pet names do they use?

Ethan doesn’t use pet names besides the occasional “love” or “sweetheart”. He doesn’t consider “rookie” to be a pet name. To him, that’s just another way to pronounce Tilly.

Tilly is the complete opposite. She loves the pink tint that appears on Ethan’s ears and cheeks when she calls him “snuggluffagus” when they’re cuddling or “Ethan the Grouch” whenever Ethan is pissy they ran out of coffee.

Q = Questions. Are there questions they’re always asking?

Ethan is always asking Tilly, “Are we out of coffee already?” Tilly doesn’t drink coffee, so she’s always amused when he gets grumpy about it. He also often asks her, “What did you do?”

Tilly is always asking Ethan, “Have you seen this?” She asks the question then shoves her phone in his face, showing him a meme (or me-me as Ethan pronouns it) or cat video.

R = Rainy Day. What do they like to do on a rainy day?

Ethan loves to sit at the kitchen table and do paperwork as the rain falls. When it’s not raining and he has work to do, he turns on an app that has white noises on it. Rain helps him focus.

Tilly also loves the rain. Whenever it rains, her inner child comes out. She’ll take Ethan’s hand, put Jenner on his leash, and drag them outside. She’ll play fetch with Jenner or watch as Ethan grumbles about his wet sweater vest. Tilly loves bursting into songs from Singin’ in the Rain. Sometimes, Ethan will join her… as long as no one’s there and he’s had his coffee. The day Sienna visited and found Dr. Ethan Ramsey singing “Good Morning” in the rain with Tilly is one she’ll never forget.

S = Sad. How do they cheer each other up?

Whenever Tilly’s sad, Ethan will turn on her guilty pleasure: Scrubs. If they’re somewhere a TV is not, Ethan will hug her close to him and gently whisper in her ear the vows he said on their wedding day, promising again and again to never leave her.

Whenever Ethan’s sad, Tilly asks for his help with a patient she has. Tilly’s found that the best way to cheer him up is to distract him, to bring his mind elsewhere. Whenever that doesn’t work, she walks over to their children, leans down in front of them, and whispers, “I think Daddy needs a hug.”

T = Talking. What do they like to talk about?

Ethan and Tilly, of course, talk about medicine. More than that, they talk about the one TV show they both like: Game of Thrones. They also talk about the latest hospital gossip. Ethan tries to act uninterested whenever Tilly starts a sentence with, “Did you hear what happened?”, but she always notices how his ears perk up.

U = Unencumbered. What helps them relax?

In addition to rain, Ethan’s also relaxed by nature shows. He’s relaxed by the narrator’s often British accent and watching ocelots play with each other in the wilderness. Around the holidays, Ethan likes to sew, but that’s his and Tilly’s secret.

Tilly’s relaxed by baking. She isn’t much of a cook (or baker for that matter), but she likes baking cookies and cupcakes. Ethan always tries her sweets even when he thinks he’s about to eat a piece of coal only to find out it’s a sugar cookie.

V = Vaunt. What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?

Both Ethan and Tilly are proud of their intelligence and their ambition. However, that’s little in comparison to how proud they are of their children. Every piece of artwork of Parker and Eli’s goes on the fridge. There’s also a trophy case dedicated to all of the awards they’ve won from Parker’s soccer participation trophy to Eli’s national spelling bee trophy.

W = Wedding. When, how, where do they propose?

Read that here.

X = Xylophone. What’s their song(s)?

Their first dance was to “At Last” by Etta James.

Some of their other songs include: “Baby, I Love Your Way” by Peter Frampton and “More than Words” by Extreme.

Y = You. You are the ___ to my ___ (e.g. the cookies to my milk, the macaroni to my cheese).

According to Ethan, Tilly is the angioplasty to his coronary artery. Ethan isn’t exactly known for his romantic abilities.

According to Tilly, Ethan is the Kanye to her Kanye. Ethan has no idea what on God’s green earth that means, but he uses context clues to determine Kanye is someone who likes himself an awful lot.

Z = Zebra. If they wanted a pet, what would they get?

Ethan and Tilly have two pets: Jenner and a cat named Cat.

More of My Work

[mlleedom]

White Frights - The Villains and the Fall Guys

White Frights - The Villains and the Fall Guys

February 2002

I don't know what it is, but every time I see a white guy walking towards me, I tense up. My heart starts racing, and I immediately begin to look for an escape route and a means to defend myself. I kick myself for even being in this part of town after dark. Didn't I notice the suspicious gangs of white people lurking on every street corner, drinking Starbucks and wearing their gang colors of Gap turquoise or J Crew mauve? What an idiot! Now the white person is coming closer, closer - and then - whew! He walks by without harming me, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

White people scare the crap out of me. This may be hard for you to understand - considering that I am white - but then again, my colour gives me a certain insight. For instance, I find myself pretty scary a lot of the time, so I know what I'm talking about. You can take my word for it: if you find yourself suddenly surrounded by white people, you better watch out. Anything can happen. As white people, we've been lulled into thinking it's safe to be around other white people. We've been taught since birth that it's the people of that other colour we need to fear. They're the ones who'll slit your throat!

Yet as I look back on my life, a strange but unmistakable pattern seems to emerge. Every person who has ever harmed me in my lifetime - the boss who fired me, the teacher who flunked me, the principal who punished me, the kid who hit me in the eye with a rock, the executive who didn't renew TV Nation, the guy who was stalking me for three years, the accountant who double-paid my taxes, the drunk who smashed into me, the burglar who stole my stereo, the contractor who overcharged me, the girlfriend who left me, the next girlfriend who left even sooner, the person in the office who stole cheques from my chequebook and wrote them out to himself for a total of $16,000 - every one of these individuals has been a white person. Coincidence? I think not.

I have never been attacked by a black person, never been evicted by a black person, never had my security deposit ripped off by a black landlord, never had a black landlord, never had a meeting at a Hollywood studio with a black executive in charge, never had a black person deny my child the college of her choice, never been puked on by a black teenager at a Mötley Crüe concert, never been pulled over by a black cop, never been sold a lemon by a black car salesman, never seen a black car salesman, never had a black person deny me a bank loan, and I've never heard a black person say, "We're going to eliminate 10,000 jobs here - have a nice day!"

I don't think that I'm the only white guy who can make these claims. Every mean word, every cruel act, every bit of pain and suffering in my life has had a Caucasian face attached to it.

So, um, why is it exactly that I should be afraid of black people?

I look around at the world I live in - and, I hate to tell tales out of school, but it's not the African-Americans who have made this planet such a pitiful, scary place. Recently, a headline on the front of the Science section of the New York Times asked Who Built The H-Bomb? The article went on to discuss a dispute between the men who claim credit for making the first bomb. Frankly, I could have cared less - because I already know the only pertinent answer: "It was a white guy!" No black guy ever built or used a bomb designed to wipe out hordes of innocent people, whether in Oklahoma City, Columbine or Hiroshima. No, friends, it's always the white guy. Let's go to the tote board:

· Who gave us the black plague? A white guy.

· Who invented PBC, PVC, PBB, and a host of chemicals that are killing us? White guys.

· Who has started every war America has been in? White men.

· Who invented the punchcard ballot? A white man.

· Whose idea was it to pollute the world with the internal combustion engine? Whitey, that's who.

· The Holocaust? That guy really gave white people a bad name.

· The genocide of Native Americans? White man.

· Slavery? Whitey!

· US companies laid off more than 700,000 people in 2001. Who ordered the lay-offs? White CEOs.

You name the problem, the disease, the human suffering, or the abject misery visited upon millions, and I'll bet you 10 bucks I can put a white face on it faster than you can name the members of 'NSync.

And yet, when I turn on the news each night, what do I see again and again? Black men alleged to be killing, raping, mugging, stabbing, gang banging, looting, rioting, selling drugs, pimping, ho-ing, having too many babies, fatherless, motherless, Godless, penniless. "The suspect is described as a black male... the suspect is described as a black male... THE SUSPECT IS DESCRIBED AS A BLACK MALE..." No matter what city I'm in, the news is always the same, the suspect always the same unidentified black male. I'm in Atlanta tonight, and I swear the police sketch of the black male suspect on TV looks just like the black male suspect I saw on the news last night in Denver and the night before in LA. In every sketch he's frowning, he's menacing - and he's wearing the same knit cap! Is it possible that it's the same black guy committing every crime in America?

I believe we've become so used to this image of the black man as predator that we are forever ruined by this brainwashing. In my first film, Roger & Me, a white woman on social security clubs a rabbit to death so that she can sell him as "meat" instead of as a pet. I wish I had a nickel for every time in the past 10 years that someone has come up to me and told me how "horrified" they were when they saw that "poor little cute bunny" bonked on the head. The scene, they say, made them physically sick. The Motion Picture Association of America gave Roger & Me an R [18] rating in response to that rabbit killing. Teachers write to me and say they have to edit that part out of the film, if they want to show it to their students.

But less than two minutes after the bunny lady does her deed, I included footage of a scene in which police in Flint, Michigan, shot a black man who was wearing a Superman cape and holding a plastic toy gun. Not once - not ever - has anyone said to me, "I can't believe you showed a black man being shot in your movie! How horrible! How disgusting! I couldn't sleep for weeks." After all, he was just a black man, not a cute, cuddly bunny. The ratings board saw absolutely nothing wrong with that scene. Why? Because it's normal, natural. We've become so accustomed to seeing black men killed - in the movies and on the evening news - that we now accept it as standard operating procedure. No big deal! That's what blacks do - kill and die. Ho-hum. Pass the butter.

It's odd that, despite the fact that most crimes are committed by whites, black faces are usually attached to what we think of as "crime". Ask any white person who they fear might break into their home or harm them on the street and, if they're honest, they'll admit that the person they have in mind doesn't look much like them. The imaginary criminal in their heads looks like Mookie or Hakim or Kareem, not little freckle-faced Jimmy.

No matter how many times their fellow whites make it clear that the white man is the one to fear, it simply fails to register. Every time you turn on the TV to news of another school shooting, it's always a white kid who's conducting the massacre. Every time they catch a serial killer, it's a crazy white guy. Every time a terrorist blows up a federal building, or a madman gets 400 people to drink Kool-Aid, or a Beach Boys songwriter casts a spell causing half a dozen nymphets to murder "all the piggies" in the Hollywood Hills, you know it's a member of the white race up to his old tricks.

So why don't we run like hell when we see whitey coming toward us? Why don't we ever greet the Caucasian job applicant with, "Gee, uh, I'm sorry, there aren't any positions available right now"? Why aren't we worried sick about our daughters marrying white guys? And why isn't Congress trying to ban the scary and offensive lyrics of Johnny Cash ("I shot a man in Reno/just to watch him die"), the Dixie Chicks ("Earl had to die"), or Bruce Springsteen ("I killed everything in my path/I can't say that I'm sorry for the things that we done").

Why the focus on rap lyrics? Why doesn't the media print lyrics such as the following, and tell the truth? "I sold bottles of sorrow, then chose poems and novels" (Wu-Tang Clan); "People use yo' brain to gain" (Ice Cube); "A poor single mother on welfare... tell me how ya did it" (Tupac Shakur); "I'm trying to change my life, see I don't wanna die a sinner" (Master P).

African-Americans have been on the lowest rung of the economic ladder since the day they were dragged here in chains. Every other immigrant group has been able to advance from the bottom to the higher levels of our society. Even Native Americans, who are among the poorest of the poor, have fewer children living in poverty than African-Americans.

You probably thought things had got better for blacks in this country. After all, considering the advances we've made eliminating racism in our society, one would think our black citizens might have seen their standard of living rise. A survey published in the Washington Post in July 2001 showed that 40%-60% of white people thought the average black person had it as good or better than the average white person.

Think again. According to a study conducted by the economists Richard Vedder, Lowell Gallaway and David C Clingaman, the average income for a black American is 61% less per year than the average white income. That is the same percentage difference as it was in 1880. Not a damned thing has changed in more than 120 years.

Want more proof? Consider the following:

· Black heart attack patients are far less likely than whites to undergo cardiac catheterisation, regardless of the race of their doctors.

· Whites are five times more likely than blacks to receive emergency clot-busting treatment after suffering a stroke.

· Black women are four times more likely than white women to die while giving birth.

· Black levels of unemployment have been roughly twice those of whites since 1954.

So how have we white people been able to get away with this? Caucasian ingenuity! You see, we used to be real dumb. Like idiots, we wore our racism on our sleeve. We did really obvious things, like putting up signs on rest-room doors that said WHITES ONLY. We made black people sit at the back of the bus. We prevented them from attending our schools or living in our neighbourhoods. They got the crappiest jobs (those advertised for NEGROES ONLY), and we made it clear that, if you weren't white, you were going to be paid a lower wage.

Well, this overt, over-the-top segregation got us into a heap of trouble. A bunch of uppity lawyers went to court. They pointed out that the 14th Amendment doesn't allow for anyone to be treated differently because of their race. Eventually, after a long procession of court losses, demonstrations and riots, we got the message: if you're going to be a successful racist, better find a way to do it with a smile on your face.

We even got magnanimous enough to say, "Sure, you can live here in our neighborhood; your kids can go to our kids' school. Why the hell not? We were just leaving, anyway." We smiled, gave black America a pat on the back - and then ran like the devil to the suburbs.

At work, we whites still get the plum jobs, double the pay, and a seat in the front of the bus to happiness and success. We've rigged the system from birth, guaranteeing that black people will go to the worst schools, thus preventing them from admission to the best colleges, and paving their way to a fulfilling life making our caffe lattes, servicing our BMWs, and picking up our trash. Oh, sure, a few slip by - but they pay an extra tariff for the privilege: the black doctor driving his BMW gets pulled over continually by the cops; the black Broadway actress can't get a cab after the standing ovation; the black broker is the first to be laid off because of "seniority".

We whites really deserve some kind of genius award for this. We talk the talk of inclusion, we celebrate the birthday of Dr King, we frown upon racist jokes. We never fail to drop a mention of "my friend - he's black..." We make sure we put our lone black employee up at the front reception desk so we can say, "See - we don't discriminate. We hire black people."

Yes, we are a very crafty, cagey race - and damn if we haven't got away with it!

I wonder how long we will have to live with the legacy of slavery. That's right. I brought it up. SLAVERY. You can almost hear the groans of white America whenever you bring up the fact that we still suffer from the impact of the slave system. Well, I'm sorry, but the roots of most of our social ills can be traced straight back to this sick chapter of our history. African-Americans never got a chance to have the same fair start that the rest of us got. Their families were willfully destroyed, their language and culture and religion stripped from them. Their poverty was institutionalized so that our cotton could get picked, our wars could be fought, our convenience stores could remain open all night. The America we've come to know would never have come to pass if not for the millions of slaves who built it and created its booming economy - and for the millions of their descendants who do the same dirty work for whites today.

It's not as if we're talking ancient Rome here. My grandfather was born just three years after the Civil War. That's right, my grandfather. My great-uncle was born before the Civil War. And I'm only in my 40s. Sure, people in my family seem to marry late, but the truth remains: I'm just two generations from slave times. That, my friends, is not a "long time ago". In the vast breadth of human history, it was only yesterday. Until we realize that, and accept that we do have a responsibility to correct an immoral act that still has repercussions today, we will never remove the single greatest stain on the soul of our country

© Michael Moore, 2002.

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2002/mar/30/features.weekend

I read this excerpt from Moore’s book at an open mic night at a coffee shop shortly after the book release in 2002. Moore has been labeled contentious and divisive. He was at the cutting edge in helping those impacted by the water crisis in Flint, MI. I can relate to this piece as I have never been harmed by a black person and what I have seen in the media throughout my 4+ decades has been a complete disconnect.