#[fondly reminiscing of my life of crime as a teenager]

[normalbrothers]

you will always remember the first book you ever shoplifted (the raw shark texts by steven hall)

[tosomeonessomeone]

soaked.

words・ 2.5k /pairings・Bang Chan x reader / genres・fluff / warnings・ none

As you strolled down the familiar streets of your hometown, memories flooded back from your childhood. The laughter, the adventures, and the bond you shared with Christopher Bahng, the leader of Stray Kids, seemed like a distant yet cherished echo.

Christopher, or Chris as you fondly called him, had always been your partner in crime. From building makeshift forts in the backyard to dreaming about conquering the world with your talents, your friendship knew no bounds.

Years had passed since Chris left your small town to pursue his dreams in South Korea. The world had known him as a rising star, a beacon of talent and charisma leading Stray Kids to fame and success. But to you, he was still the same old Chris, the boy with endless dreams and an infectious smile.

You were lounging on your couch, scrolling through your phone when a message pops up. 

Chris: Hey, you there?

You: Yeah, what's up?

Chris: I'm back in town for a break. Let's catch up over dinner tonight?

You: Definitely! It's been ages since we hung out. Where do you want to go?

Chris: How about that burger joint we used to love?

You: Sounds good! See you there at 7?

Chris: Perfect! Can't wait to see you!

You grin, excited to see Chris after so long. Memories of your mischievous adventures flood back as you head to the burger joint.

As you arrive, Chris is already there, leaning against the wall, looking as cool as ever.

"Hey, stranger!" you exclaim, approaching him.

He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Hey, you! Long time no see."

You both settle into a booth, exchanging stories and laughing like old times.

"So, how's life as a K-pop star treating you?" you ask, taking a big bite of your burger.

Chris rolls his eyes playfully. "Oh, you know, the usual. Dance practices, fan meetings, and dodging crazy rumors."

You chuckle. "Must be tough being an international heartthrob."

He shrugs. "Eh, someone's gotta do it."

Throughout dinner, you reminisce about your childhood antics, from building forts to pulling pranks on neighbors.

"Remember the time we tried to skateboard down that steep hill and ended up in the bushes?" Chris laughs, shaking his head.

"How could I forget? We were lucky we didn't break any bones," you reply, laughing along.

As the night wears on, you realize how much you've missed Chris's company. Despite his fame, he's still the same goofball you grew up with.

During dinner, in between bites of burgers and sips of soda, Chris leans in and asks about your life.

"So, what have you been up to, besides stalking me on social media?" he teases, a playful glint in his eyes.

You chuckle, taking a sip of your drink before replying, "Oh, you know, the usual grind. Work, family stuff, trying not to embarrass myself too much."

Chris nods, genuinely interested. "How's work treating you?"

You shrug. "It's been busy, but I can't complain. Pays the bills, you know."

He nods sympathetically before his expression brightens with curiosity. "And what about your family? How's everyone doing?"

You smile, glad to share. "They're good, thanks for asking. Mom's still the same old mom, doting on everyone. Dad's busy with his projects, and my sister's off on her own adventures."

Chris nods along, listening intently. Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he leans in a little closer. "So, any special someone in your life? Or are you still single and ready to mingle?"

You roll your eyes, but there's a hint of laughter in your voice. "Oh, you know me, Chris. Still navigating the treacherous waters of singledom."

He laughs, giving you a knowing look. "Well, if you ever need a wingman, you know who to call."

You both share a laugh, the easy banter flowing between you like it always has.

As the conversation continues over dinner, you can't help but inquire about Chris's fellow Stray Kids members.

"So, how are your kids?" you ask, genuinely interested in catching up on his bandmates.

Chris's eyes light up as he talks about each member, sharing anecdotes and updates about their lives and careers. He laughs as he recounts their latest shenanigans during practice and on tour, painting a vivid picture of the bond they share.

"They're all doing great, still causing chaos wherever they go," he chuckles, a fondness evident in his voice.

Then, with a playful smirk, you decide to turn the tables on him. "So, Chris," you begin, raising an eyebrow playfully, "what's the deal with you? Any lucky lady catching your eye these days, or are you still playing the field?"

Chris chuckles, running a hand through his hair before settling back in his seat. "Ah, the eternal question," he quips, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "As for my relationship status, let's just say I'm enjoying the single life for now."

You nod, understanding his stance. Being in the spotlight can undoubtedly complicate matters when it comes to romance.

"And what about all that flirting with fans?" you prod, unable to resist teasing him a bit. "Are you just a professional heartthrob, or is there more to it than meets the eye?"

Chris laughs, his grin widening. "Ah, you caught me," he admits, his tone light but genuine. "Flirting with fans is all part of the game, you know. It's about connecting with them, making them feel special. But at the end of the day, it's all in good fun."

You nod, appreciating his honesty. Being a K-pop idol comes with its own set of rules and expectations, after all.

As the night wears on, you continue to chat, trading stories and laughter until the restaurant begins to empty out around you. Despite the fame and the distance that separates you, tonight feels like old times, a reminder of the enduring bond you share with Chris, your childhood friend turned international superstar.

You and Chris make your way back home after dinner, laughter echoing through the streets, you can't help but marvel at the unexpected turn of events. The rain pours down relentlessly, catching you both off guard, but instead of seeking shelter, you find yourselves caught up in the moment, running through the streets like characters in a romance movie.

"This is insane!" you shout over the sound of the rain, unable to contain your laughter as you splash through puddles.

Chris grins, his eyes alight with exhilaration. "I know, right? Who knew we'd end up in the middle of a monsoon?"

You exchange glances, the sheer absurdity of the situation only adding to the sense of adventure. With each step, the rain pelts down harder, soaking you both to the bone, but neither of you cares. In this moment, nothing else matters except the sheer joy of being alive, of feeling the rain on your skin and the thrill of the unexpected.

As you round a corner, a small awning comes into view, offering temporary refuge from the storm. Without hesitation, you both dart beneath it, breathless and exhilarated, the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Wow, that was intense," you gasp, trying to catch your breath as you lean against the wall.

Chris nods, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Tell me about it. Remind me to check the weather forecast next time we decide to go out for dinner."

You both burst into laughter, the shared moment bonding you even closer together. And as you stand there, drenched but deliriously happy, you can't help but feel grateful for the simple joys of friendship and spontaneity.

Chris chuckles, his laughter mingling with the sound of raindrops. "Well, you know what they say about spontaneity."

"Yeah, it definitely keeps life interesting," you reply, glancing up at the darkened sky above.

You glance up at Chris, his features illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. His eyes meet yours, sparking with an intensity you've never seen before, and in that moment, everything else fades away.

Feeling emboldened by the electric energy between you, you reach out and take Chris's hand, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. Without a word, you continue running through the empty streets, the raindrops falling around you like a symphony of whispers.

As you round a corner, a small square comes into view, the cobblestones slick with rain. The soft strains of music drift through the air, beckoning you closer. With a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you stop and turn to face Chris.

"Hey, do you want to dance with me?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chris's eyes widen in surprise, his gaze flickering with uncertainty. But then, a slow smile spreads across his face, and he nods, his hand tightening around yours.

"Absolutely," he replies, his voice low and husky.

Together, you step onto the rain-soaked cobblestones, the world around you fading into a blur of colors and sounds. In this moment, there is only the two of you, moving in perfect harmony to the rhythm of the rain.

As you stand there, laughing, dancing, and soaked to the bone, you can feel the weight of his gaze, the unspoken tension hanging between you like a delicate thread. The air crackles with anticipation, charged with a magnetic energy that draws you closer together with every passing moment.

And then, in a bold and unexpected move, Chris reaches out, his hand finding yours with a gentle urgency. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, igniting a fire that burns brighter with each heartbeat.

With a wordless understanding, he draws you closer, his body pressed against yours in a dance as old as time. The rain falls around you, a steady rhythm punctuating the silence as you move together in perfect harmony.

His touch is electric, sending shivers racing down your spine as you lose yourself in the heat of the moment. Time seems to stand still as you surrender to the pull of desire, your heart beating in time with his, as you drown in the depths of his gaze.

In that moment, with the rain falling around you and the world spinning madly on, Chris leans in and kisses you. It's not a fleeting touch or a casual gesture – it's a declaration, a moment of raw and unbridled passion that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

His kiss is electric, sending shockwaves coursing through your body as you surrender to the intensity of the moment. Every brush of his lips against yours sets your heart ablaze, igniting a flame that burns brighter with each passing second.

In that stolen moment beneath the stormy sky, you lose yourself in the intoxicating rush of sensation, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of rain and the feel of his touch. It's a moment suspended in time, a glimpse into a world where passion reigns supreme and love knows no bounds.

As the rain continues to fall around you, you cling to each other, lost in the dizzying whirlwind of emotion. And in that moment, with Chris's lips pressed against yours, you know that you've found something worth holding onto, something worth cherishing for eternity.

You both break from the kiss, a shared breathless moment passing between you as you gaze into each other's eyes. The rain continues to fall, a gentle cadence echoing the pounding of your hearts.

Chris's voice breaks the silence, soft but filled with emotion. "Wow," he breathes, his eyes searching yours as if trying to unravel the depths of your soul.

You smile, feeling a rush of warmth and affection wash over you. "Yeah," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "Wow indeed."

There's a tangible energy between you, a connection that defies explanation. It's as if the universe itself has conspired to bring you together in this moment, under the cloak of a stormy sky.

Chris reaches out, his hand finding yours with a tenderness that takes your breath away. "I... I didn't plan for any of this," he admits, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

You squeeze his hand gently, reassuring him with a smile. "Me neither," you confess, feeling the weight of the moment settle between you like a comforting embrace.

For a moment, you simply stand there, lost in each other's gaze, the world fading away around you. In this moment, there are no expectations, no uncertainties – only the shared promise of what could be.

And as you stand there, hand in hand, you know that no matter what the future may hold, you'll face it together, bound by the unbreakable bond of love and possibility.

You can't help but let out a nervous laugh, the tension of the moment giving way to a lightheartedness that feels like a balm to your soul.

You shake your head, still incredulous at the whirlwind of emotions that brought you to this moment. "Who would've thought a rainy night and an life update dinner would lead to... this," you say, gesturing between the two of you with a mixture of disbelief and affection.

Chris smiles, his gaze softening as he looks at you. "Sometimes, life has a way of surprising us when we least expect it," he muses, his tone thoughtful.

You nod in agreement, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you. "Yeah, I guess it does," you reply, your heart filled with a newfound sense of hope and possibility.

As you stand there, sharing a moment of levity in the midst of the storm, you realize that sometimes, the most beautiful connections are forged in the unlikeliest of circumstances.

Chris breaks the moment with a nervous laugh, his cheeks tinted with a rosy hue. "Um, so... I guess I should probably.. you know.. say something here, huh?"

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of his hand in yours. "Go on, Chris. Lay it on me."

He takes a deep breath, his expression earnest yet endearingly shy. "Okay, here goes. I... I've always admired you, you know? From the moment we met as kids, you've been this constant presence in my life. And tonight, being here with you, dancing in the rain... it just feels right."

Your heart swells at his words, touched by the sincerity in his confession. "Chris, that's... that's really sweet," you reply, unable to suppress the smile that tugs at your lips. "I have to admit, I've always had a soft spot for you too."

He blinks, surprise evident in his eyes. "Wait, really?"

You nod, feeling a surge of courage wash over you. "Yeah, really. I mean, who else would I want to dance in the rain with?"

Chris's laughter fills the air, a melody of joy and relief. "Well, in that case, I guess we're both pretty lucky, huh?"

You nod, feeling a sense of lightness settle over you. "Yeah, I'd say we are."

And as the rain continues to fall around you, you both stand there, hand in hand, sharing a moment of laughter and connection that you know will stay with you long after the storm has passed.

[arsenicpanda]

Because it’s your day for asks, apparently. River!parents ranked please!!!

Ok, so, I cannot numerically rank these, that is too hard.  No, what you’re getting is a tier list.

S TIER

Gladys: Boss ass bitch, hard ass, an icon.  Took out Penny’s eye because she almost killed her son, she’s so protective, only she is allowed to hurt her son.  Bonus points for fondly reminiscing over committing armed robbery with her husband in her youth.  Also hot af, lbr.  Please come back, Gladys, I miss you.

Hiram: Fuckin’ dramatic loser, not a sixteen-year-old nerd playing games except HE IS.  Ridiculous, over the top, deeply amusing to watch.  He wants his daughter to be his protege, but she refuses, so he turns her into his rival and it’s just amazing because he 100% views her as a legitimate rival even though she’s a fucking teenager, I love him.  Also, whenever a man hurts Veronica, he’ll fuck him up, and I respect that.  My fondness for Hiram has never been as high as when he told Archie that Veronica was the best thing to ever happen to him.  Also also, he’s clearly scheming to get Veronica and Archie back together in the hopes that this time she’ll invite him to her wedding (she won’t).

Sierra: ACE ATTORNEY SIERRA MCCOY!  So corrupt, I love her.  Also, did you see her in Katy Keene?  Because she was an icon looking out for her daughter.  Also, her dynamic with Jughead is 10/10 and her vibe is 200/10, need more Sierra McCoy in my life.

Penelope: SUCH a delight, SO over the top, COMPLETELY awful, I love her and her one glove.  Hides in the walls to gaslight her daughter but also gives her daughter the gift of murdered enemies for graduation, the most thoughtful gift possible in Riverdale.  Turned herself in for “some of” her crimes, presumably only the ones she thought weren’t completely justified, so maybe two or three of them.  Please bring her back later, I am begging you.

A TIER

Fred: Good and wholesome but kind of bland.  A loving father, but points deducted for being a dick to Jughead that one time in 1x13.  Never forget, never forgive.

Mary: A bicon and neglectful landlord, but also clearly doesn’t require references for house renters, so good for her.  Otherwise bland, but points for mostly not sucking.

B TIER

None

C TIER

Tom:  WHERE IS YOUR SON, TOM?  Is he cruising?  In a cult?  WHERE IS HE, TOM?  Tom never knows where his son is, which is a problem because his son is Kevin, king of bad choices.  A better father to Archie than to Kevin, smh.

FP: Earned a lot of points for Complex Personal Reasons, but points lost and deducted when he told Jughead he couldn’t come with them to Toledo.  Jellybean literally acted out to spend time with her brother and Jughead just wants his family together, and you’re gonna pull this shit?  Boooooo.  Still, he’s pretty amusing and a clear bughead shipper, and points added for being v gay with Fred and v sexy with Gladys.

D TIER

Miles: As a former theatre kid, I cannot overlook how absolutely awful it was for him to walk out of his daughter’s performance when it was almost fucking done, like HOW DARE.  A personal slight to me, and I’ll never forgive him for it.  Would be at C tier if not for the Theatre Kid Outrage.

Clifford:  Murderer but also super bland, so he goes here.

Hermione: Higher tiers in earlier seasons, but now she’s kind of meh and also told her daughter to stay with Chad after her daughter told her about like three red flag behaviors of Chad’s, so boo hiss to her.

TRASH TIER

Hal: A terrible serial killer who keeps trying to control women’s bodies (red flag!!) and also made Betty murder her cat.  I’m GLAD Penelope shot him, and I hope he rots in hell.

Alice: Stopped being fun when they stopped having her main trait be vicious wine mom and instead wanted to make her tragic.  Booooo, boring!  And then she gave away Betty’s college money and sold the house and just askjflsjf I’m done with Alice as Betty’s mom and she isn’t even fun anymore.  Call me when you’re extremely mean again, Alice.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Teach a Boy to Fish

Merry belated Christmas, @rcris123! I am your @rdrsecretsanta!

I apologize this is a few days late. Have some modern!Arthur and Isaac!

---

The engine of the truck purred loudly as it rumbled down a long, rural road. Country music played softly from the radio, an otherwise slow tune with somber words to match. It was late afternoon, the sky beginning to fade into a light pink with the approach of sunset.

It was a quiet day, warm and sunny without a dark cloud in the sky. As it grew later, the dry heat soon brought in cooler air, perfect for what was in mind.

“Where are we going, daddy?” A voice peeped from the backseat.

Arthur peered up into the rearview mirror, briefly meeting his son’s eye. “Fishin’!” He responded with enthusiasm.

“Fishing?” The boy repeated.

Arthur nodded. “You ever been?”

The boy shook his head. “No, mom never took me.”

“Well…” Arthur began, adjusting the mirror to keep his eyes on the child. “Think it’s about time ya learn, Isaac.”

“Really?!” Isaac exclaimed, visibly perking up. “Cool!”

Arthur chuckled at his enthusiasm, his own excitement beginning to grow. Isaac was only five years old, though incredibly bright for his age. Arthur would jokingly imply his intelligence came from his mother, along with the “looks”, despite those bright blue eyes that stared at him in wonder from the day he was born.

Arthur’s relationship with Eliza was a short one, both caught in an infatuation. Intense but short-lived, Isaac had been purely accidental. Soon after, they mutually agreed they were better as friends than lovers. Regardless how things ended, he will always admit they created such a great child together. Even though Isaac lived with Eliza, Arthur could have him on weekends and holidays.

“Do I get a fishing pole and everything?” asked Isaac.

“And everything.” Arthur confirmed with a grin.

—-

“I don’t think I’m catching anything.” Isaac spoke up after a few minutes of silence. He and Arthur stood on a dock on a river deep in the woods, the smooth flowing water twinkling in the slowly dying light.

“Sometimes it takes a bit,” Arthur explained. “Fishin’ is a lot of waitin’ around until ya get a nibble.”

Isaac scoffed. “That sounds boring.”

“Sure,” Arthur chuckled. “But when somethin’ catches the line, that’s the real fun.”

Isaac didn’t answer, instead turning his attention back out into the water. “Are you good at fishing, dad?”

Arthur gave a shrug. “Eh, not really. Was never really one of my skill sets.”

“But why are you teaching me, if you’re not good at it?” Isaac gave him a look of disbelief.

Arthur gave him a smile. “It’s a father-son tradition, or so I’ve heard.”

“So, did your dad teach you?”

Arthur let out a breath. “You sure ask a lotta questions, kiddo,” he laughed. “Nah, my dad never took me.”

The relationship before his father died had been strained at best, considering he never was around for him and his mother. Lyle Morgan didn’t seem to care that he had a child, let alone a family that once depended on him. He’d left fairly early in Arthur’s life, Arthur only having vague memories of the man who contributed DNA to his existence. When Arthur was a teenager, he’d tried reaching out to Lyle, only making some contact before the man died a lonely death. Lyle could hardly remember him, mind addled by the myriad of drugs and crime that overtook his life. The little contact they had was pitiful at most, before Lyle suffered a lonely death.

Despite Lyle’s absence, Arthur had a fairly decent life. His mother, Beatrice, tried her best to keep him fed and happy. Unfortunately she had also passed, leaving Arthur alone in the world in his mid-teens. Even though he stayed with relatives, the ones who’d practically raised him afterward were close friends of Beatrice. Dutch and Hosea, two co-owners of a business who welcomed him with open arms.

“Uncle Dutch and Uncle Hosea taught me though, or at least tried to,” Arthur continued, fondly reminiscing of the men who stepped in after his mother’s unfortunate passing. “Guess maybe that’s why I’m so bad at it.”

Isaac giggled until a look of realization crossed his face. “Wait, does that mean I’ll be bad at it too?”

Arthur let out a hearty laugh, reaching out to ruffle his son’s hair. “Nah. Maybe you’ll be better than me.”

“That is if I catch anything!” Isaac whined in response, pouting deeply.

“Give it some time, kiddo. I bet you’ll catch somethin’ before me.” Arthur said in a calm yet amused tone. Out of the corner of his eye, Isaac’s pout slowly began to disappear into a look of faint concentration. The child stared across the water, as if willing a fish to tug on his lure.

And just as if the universe heard them speak, Isaac’s line grew taut. The boy’s eyes flew wide as he griped the pole tighter, his little arms trembling as he tried to fight it. “I think I got one!”

A smile stretched across Arthur’s lips. “It’s fightin’, don’t reel it in until it gets quiet.” He instructed.

Isaac’s face crumpled in concentration as he stood his ground, keeping the pole as steady as possible. Arthur’s eyes darted to the end of the line, watching it twitch until it went slack.

“Now reel ‘er in!”

Hurriedly, Isaac fumbled briefly with the reel, finally grasping it tightly as he began to crank it back. Leaning back dramatically, he spoke through gritted teeth. “It’s heavy!”

Arthur stepped behind him, kneeling down to keep him balanced. “I gotcha.”

Isaac grunted, reeling in as fast as he could. The line began to vibrate again, and Arthur opened his mouth to remind him, only Isaac had stopped himself. Arthur kept silent and watched, letting Isaac do it on his own.

After a few moments of struggle and tugging, Isaac finally brought the fish out of the water. His little eyes grew wide in excitement as it wiggled on the line.

“Alright!” Arthur cheered. “Looks like ya caught a decent sized bass.”

“It looks huge!” Isaac commented. “What do I do with it?”

“Well…” Arthur began, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Let’s memorialize it, shall we? Then we’ll toss it back.”

Isaac nodded enthusiastically. Arthur helped set him in a pose, holding the fish up in frame. It had to be a little longer than Isaac’s arm. As the boy smiled gleefully toward the camera, Arthur snapped a few photos.

“See? Told ya you’d get one ‘fore me.” Arthur commented with a chuckle.

---

They’d stayed out for a little while longer, finally turning in when dusk had settled in. Each of them had caught a couple more fish, taking a decent amount of pictures before finally packing up. Loading the truck with their supplies, heading down the now dark country road.

“I had fun, dad,” Isaac spoke. “Can we do this every weekend?”

“Sure,” Arthur answered, smiling to himself. “It’ll be our new tradition.”

“Cool,” he responded, broken with a yawn. “Can’t wait…”

Every day with Isaac was definitely Arthur’s highlights of his week. As Isaac began to fall asleep in the back seat, he peered at his little body through the rearview. He thought back to his own adolescence, moments missed and made up with better father figures in his own life.

Arthur would make damn sure he’d provide everything for this kid, and he himself couldn’t wait for those weekend fishing trips.

[grannygremlinaudio]

So there has been the expected dismissal of Dr Ford’s accusations against Kavanaugh based on the old boys will be boys/he was a kid then and didn’t know better tropes.  This sort of thing needs to stop. I certainly hope nobody is really buying it (I mean, even the people who say it know what a crock it is and only do so to save their political strategy, right?) but worry that too many are.

I will admit, that when I first heard of Ford’s, then anonymous, accusation I did think to myself ‘ this was a long time ago and he was a minor at the time; yeah it’s horrible but is it enough to disqualify him? He could have grown as a human being since then’ - I mean, it’s not as if I support his candidacy, but looking at it from a strategic perspective, anticipating the responses. I certainly did things back then that I am not proud of (nothing like this mind you) and would never do today; haven’t we all? But since then we have a second accuser, with an incident that took place later at Yale, when he was a legal adult; this shows a pattern of behavior stretching at least into early adulthood and is undoubtedly, and now beyond any argument, of great concern. 

Or even ignore that (because the Senate committee is not full of people who tend to believe accusers or even take them seriously at all), and look at the footage we’ve seen of Kavanaugh speaking to various groups, reminiscing fondly and jokingly about his time at the high school in question, alluding to the general debauchery we have heard about.

But to get back to my main point, it is dangerous, unfair (in that it has historically not been applied equally to all people) and false to use the dismissive arguments Kavanaugh’s supporters have in the article above.

Firstly, as we all know, he was 17 at the time.  Poor black boys (as an easy example, not an exclusive list; generally anyone non cis/het-white-male and at least middle class) do not get the same benefit of the doubt when it comes to crimes committed as minors.  Even nonviolent crimes such as theft and drug possession.  They get charged as adults and sent to adult jail, where they tend to be taken advantage of by the older, actual adult, inmates.  Contrast this with that privileged white university jock (an actual adult, whose name I will not bother to look up because he doesn’t deserve it) who raped an unconscious girl and then only got, what, 3 months? 

Secondly, and not to diminish the first point above which is very important and a horrible travesty but others are speaking to that better than I can, the bigger issue may be the complete fallacy of the argument in any demographic case.  I’ve been a minor in a culture of escapist inebriation.  I’ve been wasted at parties.  No such thing as this ever happened; it would not have happened.  It is NOT normal in a categorical sense, not in gendered Catholic schools, nor coed public ones (I have attended both).  Every 17 year old boy I knew, would have known it was wrong and also known that the rest of us would put a quick end to it should we notice any such activity (yes, I can think back and identify certain individuals who may have, had the culture been more tolerable, tried it; but the point is, even they knew it was wrong).  Sure, the macho patriarchal entitlement-to-the-use-of-a-woman culture was there, boys still tried to pick up chicks, and there were the ones I knew of who girls would warn each other about, but they were (not to diminish the seriousness of the behaviour, but comparatively)  just manipulative jerks, not rapists (e.g.  the pity fuck master male-slut kiss and teller).  This situation with Kavanaugh, as described by Ford, is inarguably rape.  Gang rape at that; he had help.  There is no way a 17 year old boy, especially one ostensibly educated on the subject of Christian ethics, would not know this is wrong.  That’s the appeal; to top, to dominate, to impose one’s will, to do the wrong thing and get away scott free. It is a tool to generate respect from other boys within that same culture (leveraging faux sexual prowess, without actually being about the sex at all; like it doesn’t seem to matter who the victim is very much; it’s a matter of picking off the perceived weak ones in the herd). It is practice or training, for being a leader in America.

I have also previously extolled the fallacy of drunkenness as an excuse.  Lowering inhibitions does not equal turning a good boy into a rapist; that’s not how it works and for heaven’s sake we all (with the exception of dry individuals perhaps) know this.  Yes, there are mean drunks.  Abusive drunks even.  But what’s happening there is that the usual rationality that keeps these behaviours in check when sober (and this can often just be fear of consequence; never actual moral objection) are lowered. In fact it feels as if alcohol is purposely used in order to have an excuse to be able to do the things one knows one shouldn’t - or would like to but it too scared. Alcohol cannot be such an excuse when a) there is no remorse, in fact it is bragged about afterwards, b) it is repeated behaviour, and c) it is premeditated - the repeat nature and group participation shows that much rather clearly. These people are still assholes sober, they just have more self-restraint and more skillfully applied cosmetic  smiley face for the camera.  There is no level of drunkenness, that a true  respecter of women as fellow humans could achieve to make him into a rapist. Trust me; I’ve been pretty fucked up, and not just once.  I’ve said stupid things, even pathetically hit on girls, but never lost sight of consent. Never forced myself on anyone or taken advantage of the many inebriated girls that were around. I could have - there was that one girl, from a grade or 2 down (HS as well so very good comparison) at one party I recall who apparently had a crush on me (I was unaware) and who got so drunk (first time perhaps) that she was literally fawning/falling all over me.  I could have taken advantage - I mean she literally started it and she would not have resisted; I would not have had to hold her down or cover her mouth, or require any help to do so, but I did not - because I knew it would be wrong despite my own consumption of booze.  I found a friend of hers and transferred care.  I was a wasted horny teenager, as  eager to lose his virginity as any other, and somehow perfectly able to keep it in my pants. This should not be a point of pride for me; this should be normal, and I know that in many circles it is, the problem is that it is not universal.  There are numerous other examples I could give, and no, this isn’t about being the great white hope/knight in shining armour. There are also examples of when I failed to do act, or did not act enough.  What this is about is about being a human being, because you done know that girls do it for each other (even boys do it for each other) and in fact were there for us boys at times as well; it is our duty to be there for them as well.  It’s not exemplary, it’s the basic standard.  Or at least it should be.

What this (above in the article) is, is an exposure of the prevalence of the aforementioned macho culture within the ranks of the American conservative elite.  To be fair this is not exclusive to the conservative (Republican) elite, I would just argue that it is worse there - at least there is a movement against this sort of thing in liberal (e.g. Democratic) circles, but as we know there is still work to be done there as well.  It is an indictment of the old boys club, one hand washes the other, team colors are thicker than morality and justice.  An exposure of the farce of the Republican claim to have the religious moral higher ground. This also ties in with other areas in which so-called moral authority sees it fit and right to bend other rules (such as the right to rule and therefore subvert democracy to realise that right/take it back from the unworthy, as recently written about by Anne Applebaum in The Atlantic - that was about Europe, but it applies just as well to North America, especially the USA).

The fact of the matter is, that someone, like Kavanaugh, who has demonstrated a pattern of not acknowledging womens’ humanity, much less their equal status and rights under the law (the hallowed Constitution), cannot be fit to serve as a justice, especially in these times when we expect womens’ rights issues to appear before the supreme court.  Someone who has demonstrated a commitment to protecting himself as well as his old boys as being above his sense of justice and morality, cannot be fit in these times when we expect criminal investigations against the President and other public servants to occur.  Someone with such a warped and backwards view of normality, is just not fit to set de facto policy in the country’s highest court for the next few decades.

I am tired of the excuses and dismissals for these behaviours; all the while the same people trying to preach to me about my life and choices - how I am raising my kids wrong.  I do not accept your moral authority, and you are kidding yourselves if you think anyone except your small community of Kool Aid drinkers do. I am tired of these bullies and dinosaurs making me, my entire demographic, look bad.  The jig is almost up, the writing is on the wall and there is no putting the genie back inside the bottle.  No matter how many female kapos you find (such as those who wrote/signed letters in Kavanaugh’s defense), willing or coerced; your fellow men are now turning against you.  We will not tolerate or dismiss ‘locker room talk’ - we will react by shaming you in front of our peers, as your member hangs there retreating into your abdomen for safety.  We will pull your drunken (or not, as the case may be) ass off a girl if we need to.  We will not be your alibi or character reference. We will call bullshit on the usual defensive talking points we all know to be invalid excuses. We will do what should have always been done.  You will have no refuge.  You will not continue to shame us.  We will teach our boys, and they in turn will teach yours if you so fail, that the best sex, the only sex worth having, is with a person who really wants to give themselves to you (and where you in turn, really want to give yourself to them; that person specifically, not just because they are the easy prey orifice at hand) - anything else is just kidding yourself.  If she’s not into it, you can tell.