#blame britt its not my fault

[noblehcart]

[carolinemillerbooks]

New Post has been published on Books by Caroline Miller

New Post has been published on https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/8000-years-of-mysogeny/

8000 Years Of Mysogeny

I’ve given up worrying about the existence of God.  Discussions about diety I leave to the young. After decades spent thinking about the inscrutable, all I gleaned from religious precept was that misogyny rises from it like a noxious odor.  I’m not alone in this opinion. Donna Nolan Fewell, a scholar of the Old Testament writes, The Bible, for the most part, is an alien text (to women), not written by women or with women in mind. Christopher Hutchins cast a withering eye on the Scriptures, as well, and arrived at an ancillary conclusion. The cure for poverty has a name; it’s called THE EMPOWERMENT OF WOMEN.  Now, name me a religion that stands, or ever stood for that. Feminist writer Barbara G. Walker also added to my knowledge.  She pointed out that Thomas Aquinas and St. Augustine held grudges against women and that holy father John Scotus Eriuge made men the following promise. ..when the heavens finally open in glory, women will be eliminated. (“Does Religion Make People Kind, Generous?” by Barbara G. Walker, FreeThought Today, March/April. pg. 14.) A prediction like that makes God irrelevant to the future of womankind and raises a question.  If the weaker sex is to be barred from heaven, why can’t men be more charitable to them on earth? So far, the patriarchal doctrine has done nothing except insist that women are inferior creatures unworthy of simple justice Honor killings are an example. That a woman who has been raped should pay with her life while her attacker goes free is perverse.  What’s more, the myth that sustains it is absurd.  Reason balks at the suggestion that all women should be punished because one plucked an apple from its branch. In Western societies, Honor killings aren’t prevalent, but other injustices prevail. The Supreme Court’s decision to overturn Roe v. Wade is a heinous example.  No longer allowed to control their bodies, women in the United States have been returned to the status of chattel. After 8,000 years of brainwashing, it’s not surprising that many women have accepted their inferiority, helped by Judas Goats who betray their sisters for a smattering of patriarchal privileges.  Phyllis Schlafly, an attorney in the 1960s, is an example.  She railed against the Women’s Movement and warned equality was the enemy of domesticity.       Amy Coney Barrett, U. S. Supreme Court Justice, appears to follow in Schlafly’s footsteps. Her religious conviction that a husband is his wife’s master made her vote to overturn Roe v. Wade inevitable. Katie Britt, U.S. Senator from Alabama, may be another of their ilk. That she chose to deliver the Republican response to Joe Biden’s State of the Union Address from her kitchen is noteworthy.  My comments about these women may seem unfair. Nonetheless, I’ll wager none of them found the time to make biscuits from scratch. If they are or were to be blind to their hypocritical positions, I must blame 8,000 years of patriarchy.     Masculine paranoia predates the Women’s Movement, so I’m inclined to question the conclusion of a 2024 study laying blame for misogyny at women’s feet. If true, the cause and effect is unclear to me. Why should a woman’s desire for equality disconnect men from society and send them into private lives of underachievement, underemployment, online addiction, and white supremacy?   I propose we search for masculine hostility within the male psyche. At the subliminal level, is it possible men doubt their superiority or harbor the fear that nature favors women? Consider this solitary fact as evidence. The male-defining Y chromosome is disappearing. The fault has nothing to do with women. It lies within the human genome.  The female X chromosome reproduces through genetic recombination, but the Y chromosome uses a cut-and-paste procedure. The latter is inferior to recombination because it produces errors that cannot be corrected.  Over time, these flaws accumulate so that, according to scientists, within another 4.6 billion years women will find themselves alone in the universe.  Let me hasten to assure my male friends that neither I nor a majority of women rejoice in that outcome. Nonetheless,  nature is experimenting with unisex reproduction. Enter the Japanese spiny rat, the first among mammals to shed its Y chromosome yet continue to procreate.       And so, my male cohorts, given your prospects for the future, it’s time to consider the olive branch.  Women are willing to forgive 8000 years of neglect if over the next 4.6 million years you join us in peace.  Together we can confront a deaf, dumb, and blind universe confident that we are unique because we know how to love. If any man doubts the generosity of this offer, let them remember this.  A woman’s voice is the first sound a child hears in the womb. At the closing, a woman’s tears may be the last sound a man hears.     

[lightsaber-dorphin]

1. If you’re going to act like I’m stupid, don’t do it in my notes please.

2. Yeah it is ignoring most/ all of the High Republic project. Because I was focusing on the original trilogy, sequels, clone wars show, rebels show, etc. And I made this post before The Acolyte came out.

3. I will concede your point that I over-emphasized Sidious’s power. Maybe the Jedi could’ve survived if things were done differently. But I think you missed the central point of my post.

I am frustrated by people who ignore that Order 66 was a genocide. Fascist movements need a scapegoat. It’s one of the 14 Characteristics of Fascism identified by Dr. Lawrence Britt. Sidious’s fascist movement used the Jedi as its main scapegoat.

When people discuss the relationship between the Jedi Order’s faults and Order 66, they often imply that they deserved to be wiped out. That Order 66 what the Jedi’s just desserts for their complacency. I’m sure you can see why that rubs me the wrong way.

Personally, I think “The Jedi Order had a number of faults that made Sidious/ the Empire’s campaign against them possible” and “The Jedi were victims of a genocide at the hands of the Empire, and none of their faults as an organization change that or justify the tragedy” can and should coexist! Complexity makes for a more interesting story. I’m just really annoyed by people downplaying or ignoring the genocide aspect.

4. I’d love to hear your thoughts about things that contributed to the Empire’s rise. The way the Clone Wars primed the galaxy to sacrifice freedom for safety has always felt particularly poignant to me.

Image description below the cut

[Image Description: Image 1: a screenshot of two tumblr comments. platosredhairedstepchild said “The Empire was dressed in literal Nazi uniforms. George Lucas was not subtle about who the Empire represented. Yet people really really love to blame the Jedi for all the galaxies problems and their own genocide without even the tiniest shred of self-awareness.” and grimmxelor said “Literally, The Empire had Stormtroopers that couldn't get any less obvious. Anyone who paid attention in high school history class or watched a history documentary would know what a Stormtrooper is. Despite the memes and jokes about the Stormtrooper's poor aim.”

Image 2: Screenshot of an interview with George Lucas, with a picture of Lucas at the top. It reads

“In this extended segment from James Cameron's Story of Science Fiction, George Lucas chats with James Cameron about the contemporary political influences behind Star Wars.

"It isn't the science, aliens, and all that kind of stuff that I get focused on. It's how people react to all those things," explains Lucas, who shares how he has a background in anthropology.

Watch this Extended Interview With George Lucas

"We're fighting the largest empire in the world, and we're just a bunch of hay seeds in coonskin hats that don't know nothing," he says, referencing the American Revolution against the British Empire, and how he based the heroes of Star Wars on real-life rebellions against powerful empires.

Lucas and Cameron discuss how during the Vietnam War, America became "the Empire."

"The irony is that, in both of those, the little guys won. The highly technical empire - the English Empire, the American Empire -- lost. That was the whole point," Lucas says.” End Description]

The Jedi Purge had very little to do with the Jedi themselves.

Sidious wanted power. He wanted the Force to be restricted to himself and a chosen few. He also needed a group to scapegoat while taking over the galaxy. The Jedi were convenient.

If the Jedi were different Sidious would’ve just used different propaganda and told Anakin different lies. He had an army of elite mind-controlled soldiers. Even in less-than-ideal circumstances Order 66 still would’ve killed most of the Jedi.

There’s arguments to be made that the Jedi Order should’ve done certain things differently for ethical reasons, or to do better for the galaxy. But the Jedi’s actions had very little to do with the Jedi Purge. They died because it furthered Sidious’s goals, not because of anything they did or didn’t do.

[another-fanfic-haven]

Memories.

(words: 742)

Ah, High School. You - a sophomore, Tabi and his friend - seniors. Your trio is inseparable.

This means, if some shit happens, you are the first to blame. No matter if it really was your fault or some jealous jerk decided to put you in all the trouble.

And that's exactly what happened this time...

- It wasn't us! - you cried out while walking to the principal's office. - We were nowhere near the locker room! - Tell that story to Mr. Britt. - the teacher said through his teeth. Your trio walks as if to be executed. You all tried to explain that this was not your fault, but the evidence was insufficient, and you were caught walking near the crime scene. The sentence was harsh. A month in detention, you had to clean the mess and your parents have to pay for two broken lockers. This was the end of this day for you. Your parents were called to show up in the school after the classes finished.

- Man... My mom's gonna kill me. - you said out loud, hopeless. - Same... She's gonna ground me for the rest of my life. - claimed Tabi hiding his face in his palms. - Yeaaah, I don't fucking care. - said his friend, Agoti clasping his hands behind his head. - He can do shit. I ain't gonna listen to this old man.

Both of you looked at him in disbelief.

- What? I'm sayin' the truth! Besides, what's he gonna tell the crowds? - he just shrugged. As far as you were concerned, he was telling the facts. His music carrier started to reach its peak. And Tabi? His girlfriend was the DAUGHTER of famous a rock star. And he also was doing some work in that field. You felt like a third wheel... You were just a simple human being, riding around on your father's motorcycle. Constantly bruised arms, legs, and torso... Nowhere near as famous as your friends.

Finally, your executioners' arrived. All at once. Your mother hasn't even looked at you...

The most awkward silence in your entire life. You were sitting in front of the principal's office, stressed and scared. Finally, your and Tabi's parents' left the office and walked quickly to the door. You both looked at each other and got up simultaneously. You wanted to leave, but someone caught you by your shoulders. You both stopped immediately and shyly turned around.

- You both. Come with me. - person spoke. He has... a blue flame instead of the head. And rectangular glasses. This was Agoti's adoptive father, Solazar.

All three of you followed him outside to his vehicle. Agoti's sitting at the front, you and Tabi at the back.

- I'm going to give you two a ride home. - he said fastening his seat belt and taking off slowly. - I expected everything from you. But this? - he said looking at the road. - It wasn't us! We are innocent. - Tabi cried out. You heard a loud sigh. - I will help you and pay for the damage. If you do something for me. - Uh-huh. There we go. - replied Agoti slouching into the seat. Both you and Tabi looked at the man with questioning faces. - First you, Tabi. I heard your skills, you will help me with perfecting records.

You saw him silently agreeing.

- And you, what's your name? - he asked looking at you in the rear mirror. - It's "Y/N" sir. - you mumbled. - Perfect. What can you do? - he said it is a perfect time, as you got stuck in a traffic jam. - I dunno sir... I can draw a little. And maybe edit some photos... - you said nervously squeezing the sleeve of your jacket. - Drawing, huh. You're doing concept art or just sketching? - he asked turning around in his seat. - Uh... Both, I guess sir. Sometimes digital sketches if I lay my hands on any tablet. - you said even more timidly. You saw him smile and turning back to the steering wheel. - Then you will make covers. For a month, I will do everything to force Mr. Britt to let you "work" for me. - he said taking off again. Traffic loosens a lot and Solazar could quickly drop you off at your house...

It will be a loong month for you...

[ms-rampage]

Just as I Was About To Give Up

Kenny Omega x Female reader

Warnings: Angst and fluff

Summary: The reader's long time boyfriend Kenny Omega has been trying to get her pregnant, and after several failed attempts she gives up on it, but then she gets hit with a surprise.

Note: I find weird that I've never written a Kenny Omega fanfic, and I've been love with him for like 3-4 years.

------------------------------------------------------------

You and Kenny have been trying for months to get you pregnant, but every time it always comes back negative every damn time. After having sex again in another attempt to get you knocked up. You took another pregnancy test but you wait 3 weeks to take it instead of the usually 9-15 days, and once again another failed attempt.

You're backstage at AEW Dynamite, and were hesitant on telling Kenny, he has enough on his plate already with everything that's going on with him, the Bucks, Hangman and the Inner Circle.

Another failed pregnancy is the last thing he needs on his mind, but of course he's gonna ask about it either way.

You wait patiently until he came back from his match. Nervously sitting on the couch in the locker room, watching his match against some wrestler who's name you don't even remember because that's how nervous you are.

You don't even know why you're nervous, its not like its your fault you can't get pregnant.

Anxiously watching the TV, the locker room door open a bit.

Britt Baker and Reba walk past, and they see you looking anxious and visibly upset.

Britt knocks on the door, and you look up from the TV.

"Hey Y/N" she says, with a smile.

"Hey Britt, Reba" you reply, with a forceful smile.

"What's wrong?" Reba asks, concerned.

You stumble over your words but you decided to be honest with them since they're your friends.

"Kenny and I are trying to get pregnant, and-" you say before holding up the pregnancy test "Another failed attempt".

They can see how stressful this whole situation is to you, and they try reassuring you.

"Give it time, you'll get pregnant eventually" Reba says, holding you shoulder.

You smile, and nod your head. They reassure you for another a few minutes. You take Reba's advice and try not to stress over it, but part of you wants to give up on trying to get pregnant.

They leave for their match, leaving you to cope with your thoughts. You zone out looking at the floor, and the sound of Kenny's voice from down the hall snaps you back to reality.

You look towards the door, waiting for it to open and just for sure Kenny walks in holding a water bottle, towel around his neck and his half of the AEW tag team championship.

"Hey honey" he says, kissing the top of your head.

"Hey" you softly say, trying to avoid looking in his direction.

He drops himself on the couch next to you, sighing loudly, he leg brushing up against yours. He notices you're not attempting to look in his direction, and he can also see the anxiety on your face.

"Did you take the test?" he asks, placing his hand on top of yours, entwining his fingers with yours.

You nod your head, still not looking at him.

"And? What's the result?" he asks, his voice filled with hope.

You hand him the stick, still not looking at him. He takes it from your hand, and lets out a soft sigh of disappointment.

He can't blame you for not getting pregnant, you hate how your stupid body can get hurt, bruised, cut up, and sick very easily but can't get any sperm into your fallopian tubes to meet your egg to get your pregnant.

He squeezes your hand, lifting it to his lips to kiss it. He pulls you close to him, wrapping his arms around you. Kissing the side of your head.

"Its okay, we can keep trying" he reassures you.

Your next words come out like vomit, "I'm gonna give up".

He looks down at you confused, "What?".

"I'm just gonna give up" you say, sitting up. "Its clear I'm never gonna get pregnant". You hold back tears, biting your lip.

Kenny looks at you with sad eyes, he knows you want to have kids, start your own family. He knows how important that is to you, and its important to him as well. What more can he do? Have sex with you everyday until you get pregnant? He could if you want him to.

"You sure you want to give up?" he asks, brushing your hair behind your ear.

You nod your head, and say "Yes".

____________________________________________________

Next the following week on Dynamite you sit in the crowd for Kenny's match against Sammy Guevara.

You're standing on the right side of the crowd with Big Swole, Shida, Luchasaurus, Marko Stunt, and Jungle Boy halfway through Kenny's match, you had the urge to vomit. Jungle Boy looks over at you, and sees you've gone pale.

"Y/n you alright?" he asks concerned.

You nod your head, and say "Yeah, I just-I just need to use the restroom"

You run slowly towards the bathrooms, hand over your mouth, your burst into the womens restroom looking like a mad woman, and you vomit into one of the toilets.

Kenny's match finishes, he picks up the win against Sammy.

He looks over at where you were standing, and he doesn't see you. He pans the small crowd trying to find you. Jungle Boy tries to tell him where you went but Kenny doesn't hear him.

He exits the ring, and goes backstage. Looking like a lost child in a grocery store looking for his mom.

"Y/n!" he shouts.

"Have you seen Y/n?!?" he asks a couple of crew members. They shake their heads no.

He continues down the hall, and goes to the locker room hoping you'll be there. He opens the door and it's empty.

"Y/n!!" he shouts again.

He goes to catering, and you're not there either.

He starts to internally panic. Could you still be upset that you can't get pregnant that you're ghosting him?

One of AEW's doctors call out for him.

"Kenny!".

He turns around "Where's Y/n?" he asks.

The doctor motions him to follow him, and he follows him into one of the medic rooms, and he sees you sitting on the table holding a small trash can on your lap.

The doctor took your temperature, it came back normal, he checked your blood pressure, it came back normal, blood sugar came back normal.

You had mention to the doctor that you were trying to get pregnant, and he said that it could be a possibility, and he gave you a test to take.

The doctors leave the room to give you and Kenny privacy. "Are you okay?!?" he asks, placing his hand on your forehead and cheeks.

"I'm fine, I just had to throw up during your match" you respond.

"What happen?! You didn't catch the virus did you!??!" he asks, frantically and worried.

You shake your head "No I didn't catch the virus but I did catch this" you say, showing him a pregnancy test.

His eyes widened when he sees that is says positive.

"You're pregnant!?!" he exclaims, in shock.

You nod your head, and smile "Yes!!!"

"Oh my god!!!!" he says, before pulling you into a tight embrace. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him tightly, and not wanting to let go.

After so many failed attempts at getting pregnant, you finally get that chance with the love of your life.

"I want a boy, or girl, whichever" he says, in your shoulder clearly crying.

The doctors, fellow wrestlers and Tony Khan outside hear this and they start applauding, and congratulating the two of you.

The soon to be parents. The Best Bout Baby.

[birthdaysentiment]

The music in wtFOCK season 3 - Bonus Song

Zaterdag 00.57 // "Grave" - George Ogilvie

wtFOCK knows how to keep us waiting, how to build up the expectation and excitement of what's to come. The waiting somehow made the real-time aspect of the show more present, but also nerve-wracking as hell, because we never knew when to except the next clip; sometimes we could wait a couple of minutes, a whole hour, or even several hours until we learned what happened next. The waiting for this particular clip was pure torture, since wtFOCK decided to end the previous one, with the uncertainty of what happened when Robbe got up on his bike. But I think they wanted us to feel the stress and the worry of what happened when Sander left their room, because they wanted us to feel exactly what Robbe felt as he decided to go around the center of Antwerp looking for Sander, until he finally found him. But the reunion didn't happen the way he excepted, and even though we knew it was coming, none of us was prepared for the hurt that came along with it.

In the silence between the end of episode 8 and the start of episode 9, Robbe had been going around Antwerp in search for Sander, but it wasn't until he noticed the blue neon lights at the end of an ally, that Robbe knew he had found Sander, and that somebody had found him before he could. Robbe seemed tired as he looked up at the street to Sander's school, but his expression also told us that he was scared, not of Sander, but for him, because what Robbe was looking at didn't give him any indication of Sander being okay, only that he had been found. Robbe quickly got up on his bike and used all the remaining power in his legs to reach Sander, because in that moment he just wanted to be there for him, but he never actually got a chance to do it.

As he comes closer to the gate, he sees Sander sitting on the ground, wrapped in foil to try and keep his body temperature up, but he's not alone. He's surrounded by paramedics, a woman he doesn't recognize and Britt who looks at him with evil eyes, but in that moment all Robbe could focus on was Sander, how lost and broken he looked, how small he seemed with the people around him and how he didn't look like the happy and joyful Sander he had come to know. And in that moment I don't think Robbe could help but think back to their time in the hotel-room, where they had been enjoying each other, kissing and hugging all they wanted since they were alone and finally together, but the scene in front of him just confirms how quickly things can change.

The song is there at the beginning of the clip, where the powerful indie rock sound fills the air around Robbe, providing a groovy beat to the clip, but there's also a sadness, a melancholic attached to it as soon as they start to sing. The combination of the honesty of the lyrics and the rawness of the melody makes the song a good fit for this clip, that always hurts whenever you watch it. The song fades away to a quite background sound when Robbe gets closer to Sander, in the same moment as Britt walks towards Robbe, to make sure that he doesn't get any further, and because the song is still present, it manages to emphasize the emotions between Robbe and Britt. And because of that, the clip is almost impossible to watch, because the hurt and sadness is so prominent, but I'm sure a silence around them would have been even more unbearable and intense to watch.

There's no doubt about Britt's feelings towards Robbe, as her whole reaction says it all. The way she tries to act like a wall between Robbe and Sander, preventing them from being together, preventing Robbe from getting to Sander so he can hold him in his arms. She tries to hold Robbe back, she even lightly shoves him away, which she hopes will make him understand the situation they're in, that now is not the time or the place for Robbe to be, that he should stay away, since Britt seems to think that everything is his fault.

But Robbe doesn't care, he won't let Britt stop him from being with Sander, the person who made him feel something real, who made him feel loved. And Britt sees that, she can see the love between them, the love she never had with Sander, and even though she tries to convince herself otherwise, I do think she knew, deep down, that Sander wasn't hers, that they would never have the relationship he had with Robbe. But in that moment, Britt believed that she was the only one who could be there for him, especially at his lowest, that she was the only person who could make Sander feel whole again, and she would do anything to prove that.

Without thinking twice about it, Britt tells Robbe that Sander is bipolar, hoping that the information might be too much for Robbe to handle, that it will make Robbe step back and leave Sander alone. But Robbe doesn't believe her, it almost seems like he's trying to figure out if Britt is actually telling the truth or if she's as manipulative as Sander has described her to be. But as Britt keeps talking, as she keeps making Robbe feel guilty, small and insecure, he begins to understand the reality of the situation, and even though he might had been confused and a little shocked about it all, it didn't seem to change his mind, it didn't changed the fact that he was in love with Sander and that he would do anything to be there next to him.

Robbe doesn't want to believe Britt and the lies she's telling, but she knows how to get to Robbe, not caring about breaking his heart in the process. It always breaks my heart to witness the conversation between them, it hurts so much to see how determined Robbe is to get to Sander, to be there for him, but he can't, and that is so painful to watch, because Robbe can't be there for the only person, he wanted to be there for the most. And to hear Britt tell Robbe that it was all a lie, that Sander doesn't have feelings for him, that Robbe is just an obsession that he'll get over eventually, hurt every time, especially when we see Robbe's reaction up close.

When you learn about the meaning of the song, it makes sense why it was chosen for this particular clip, as the lyrics expresses the singer's battle with his mental health and the difficult spiral he was caught up in at the time. It seems fitting to this clip as Sander struggles with his mental illness, since he's in the middle of a manic episode and how he's caught up in a spiral that doesn't seem to stop, until he reached his school and comes down from his high. The song is such a clever choice, because the topics the song touches upon, is evident in the clip. And once again wtFOCK proves that they're good at parring a song with a certain clip, especially in terms of the editing, where the different tones in the melody goes perfectly with the development of the clip.

If things couldn't get any worse, Britt made sure to make Robbe feel even more guilty, than he already did, when she blamed him for pushing Sander into a manic episode. And as she tells Robbe to stay away from her boyfriend, Robbe is left alone on the sidewalk with his heart shattered into a million pieces. Robbe is frozen, he can't move or do anything other than see Britt go into the ambulance, only to watch it drive away. It's clear to see how Robbe feels in that moment, how the sadness, grief and pain is overwhelming and consuming in very way. He never thought that such a beautiful night could end like this, that it would turn out to be one of the most painful one's, because he wasn't able to do anything, he couldn't do anything to be there for Sander.

There's a lot of images of Robbe that I can't seem to get out of my head, and this is definitely one of them. To see how broken and sad he looked watching the ambulance drive away, how hard he was trying to not break down on the sidewalk, even thought everything seemed to wash over him at once, was heartbreaking and it was so difficult not to get influenced by it. In the background the music is back to its highest volume, where the beat rises and gets deeper, which adds another layer of intensity to the whole scene.

This clip always gets to me, the look on Robbe's face when Britt tells her version of the truth, how determined he is to get pass her, so he can hold Sander in his arms, the broken look on his face when the ambulance with Sander drives away and the moment when Robbe realizes that he can't be there for Sander, when he needed him the most. wtFOCK really knows how to mess with our hearts, and I'm surprised we all made it through season 3, because it was a tough one to watch, but even though there was a lot of low points, there was certainly a lot of high points as well, sometimes we just had to wait for them.

[3416]

what are the best things about wtfock s3 and the worst things about it?

oh boy........ there is so much to tell when it comes to the best things imo, i’m not even sure i can make a coherent list. also, i’m approaching this assuming you’ve watched the season, so this is not spoiler friendly. if you haven’t.... i can make you a new persuasive post with no spoilersfldj. anyway, here are just a couple things:

obviously the chemistry between robbe and sander is........... in a league of its own.... i love seeing people in love, so it’s a thrill when actors can pull it off and i could write a dissertation on that alone so i’ll just leave it at that

robbe being altered as a character in general and even though that was established in earlier seasons, you really see him flourish in s3 obv... he’s a little softer... a little sweeter than the other isaks and it really just makes you fall head over heels. i’m amazed when people have something extremely negative to say abt him bc like......... sander said it best when he called him an angel! he’s got his faults as a human, but the way he genuinely cares about and takes interest in the people around him on the whole?? it’s wonderful.

the way wtfock doesn’t shy away from shaking things up a bit. the storyline follows so closely to the og that you expect things to happen in the same time frames and sometimes they just... don’t (see: extending the reunion and moving ohn to a monday and even skipping a day in their own posting pattern just to fuck with us). also they throw in original scenes, like dinsdag 16:31. it was one of the best of the season and it was all theirs. things like bringing britt in as sander’s gf and making their relationship a bit more tumultuous and fresh, harder to understand, than other even/sonjas. making noor likable ? letting her have a space with them post-mess ? not introducing their even until ep 3 and giving him his full whirlwind moment... a full week of seeing them......... dance around each other. and though this is a controversial opinion in itself..... i think even adding in a moment like the hate crime was a bold thing to do. the writers have stated they talked to a lot of belgian youth and felt that that was still a prevalent issue, and it was certainly a controversial moment

ok even though this could technically belong to the last bullet ..... making sander’s safe space not a physical space with meaning itself but rather.... demonstrating that his safe place is robbe by having him “take shelter” surrounded by all these moments and memories of him. we see robbe’s flashbacks in ohn, but we can just as easily see as soon as he finds sander that....... sander’s been drowning in those moments too. for a season filled with so much misunderstanding, it becomes crystal clear there.

sander

bad things abt wtfock s3 are a little tougher...... and i’m not impartial considering it’s my favorite iteration of skam, but:

the way they dealt with the hate crime the night it happened and the lack of actual mention in the rest of the season. i don’t think it was a bad move to include it at all honestly, but the lack of follow up that night and continuing on made me sad. on the flip side, the writers have acknowledged that they didn’t handle it as well as they should have and listened to fans critique of that instead of blowing it off. they also brought it up in wtfockdown as a response to show sander and robbe are working through it, so to me... it’s a bit moot to make a big deal of it NOW. i just remember it was extremely stressful the night of.

jens???? like on the whole, i like jens just fine. he’s cool, he’s meh, he’s whatever, but if you don’t think he was one of the shittiest jonases in any of the s3 remakes, mostly in the first half then..... LMAO. biggest beef is the fact that robbe full on told jens he was falling in love with someone else, then jens kinda dropped it bc their friends approached in the middle of the convo (which i don’t blame him for in the moment), and then... when robbe comes out to him...... he acts like he wasn’t already told this info abt robbe being in love with someone else. and is like... WhY wOulD i MaKe a BiG DeAl...... like you haven’t contributed to the homophobic shit robbe’s dealt with. i think jens owes him an apology for some of that, and i know we’re never gonna get one. jens only got better when i saw the vlogs, and even then i’m just... meh. i was very meh about the boysquad as a whole but i grew to love them as a unit the last couple eps, so ya know.....

anyway.... that’s just some rambling from me, i could prob type out 59435849 more words, but i love wtfock 🤗

[all-things-skam]

Title: Staying strong together | TW: mention of violence 

Ship: Wtfock | Robbe Ijzerman + Sander Driesen (Sobbe)

_______________

The date was Sander's idea. He decided they should get drinks and come back on their bikes. And, most importantly, he initiated the kiss in the street.

They hadn't been fast enough when unlocking their bikes. Even if they had, with the amount of alcohol in their blood, they would've never been able to escape them.

Sander watched as Robbe slept in his bed, the angry bruise on his face getting darker and bigger with time. The ice Zoe had gotten him earlier had fully melted, now only a bag of water. He had put it on the table to prevent its content from spilling on the mattress during Robbe's sleep.

He had gotten hurt so much worse than Sander, being smaller, therefore weaker to those guys's eyes. Sander had done everything that he could to push them away, to try to prevent them from hurting Robbe any way that he could, but they were far too strong - and outnumbered.

Robbe's eyebrows twitched, a small wince escaping as he shifted in the bed. Sander, immediately alert, craned his neck, checking if Robbe was okay. He sighed, hearing soft snores.

A part of Sander couldn't help but feel like he was responsible for what had happened. He was the older one, he was supposed to take care of Robbe - in a way. He was supposed to protect him, yet he drove him into the wolves's den by drinking and kissing in the middle of the street on a Friday night.

Had he been thinking? Maybe this was what Britt meant when she said he never thinks before acting?

Sander's eyes filled with tears, physically sick to his stomach as flashbacks of Robbe getting kicked by those homophobes hit him. He could hear Robbe's pained moans every time he closed his eyes. It was haunting him.

He should've been more careful. He should've been more on his guard and watched his surroundings before letting his pulsions kiss Robbe. Sander put their lives in jeopardy tonight and he'll have to live with that. He'll have to live with knowing that he had been the stretched cause of the pain the boy he cared so dearly about was in.

Sander pulled his knees to his chest. Just sitting in Robbe's bed and watching him sleep was difficult. How will he live and continue with his life, their relationship, knowing that he was responsible for one of the most traumatic event in Robbe's life?

His eyes welled with tears, threatening to fall. Sander shook his head, trying to chase his thoughts from his head, and his heartbeat started to pick up. He felt the tears before he knew they were falling, a sliding sensation on his left cheek.

There was a light knock on the door, but Sander didn't hear it. A creaking followed and someone poking their head in to check on them.

The streetlamp was creating a dim cast of light in Robbe's room, Milan's thin grey curtains preventing the harsh light from blinding them. It was still dark, but Milan could make out Sander's figure, awake with his knees pulled up like a small child.

Milan pulled his eyebrows. ''Sander? You okay, kitten?''

When he heard about what happened, Milan's heart broke. He had been so worried when Zoe informed him that Robbe and his boyfriend had gotten jumped in the street. Although a part of him was still mad at Robbe for saying ignorant things and assuming others about the gay community, it wasn't a reason to turn his back on him. Robbe needed him right now. Cert, Zoe was a good untrained nurse. Milan didn't doubt she'd take care of them good, but Milan was better placed to talk to Robbe about the subject matter.

Without any second thoughts, Milan had ditched his date and came to the flat to check on them. He didn't care if his date was pissed. Family came first, family takes care of each other, and Robbe was family - and so was Sander, by default.

''My fault. It's my fault.''

''What?'' Then, it clicked. Milan caught on what Sander was implying and invited himself in, refusing to let the young boy drill dark - and untrue - thoughts in his head. ''No, no, no.''

He sat on the free end of the bed, facing Sander, careful to not crush Robbe's feet under the covers. He didn't need to be in more pain at the moment.

''Robbe. It's my fault he's hurting. It's-''

''Don't,'' Milan said sternly, abruptly interrupting the blond. ''What happened wasn't your fault, Sander. If we're going to blame it on anyone, it's them. You were just living your life and acting like young people in love. It's their fault that they are so closed minded and have a problem with two boys kissing in the street.''

Sander shook his head stubbornly not falling for what Milan was saying. He wasn't willing to accept that what had happened wasn't his fault. ''I initiated the kiss. I-I leaned in and- I should've controlled myself. I should've waited to be somewhere safe, I-''

''What are you gonna do now, uh? Forbid yourself from kissing the boy you like in the street by fear someone sees and doesn't like it?'' Milan asked, cocking an eyebrow, waiting for an answer. None came. Sander kept his eyes down. ''Violence toward the LGBTQ+ community is sadly still a huge issue in Belgium, but we can't live our lives with the constant fear that something might happen. We have to be aware of the danger, not hide ourselves so we don't trigger people.''

Milan was right. And, Sander knew it. But, a part of him would've preferred that he was in the wrong. Sander didn't want to admit it, but he was scared. Knowing that he isn't easily scared, this was big. He was scared of having to go through this a second time. It would be his worst nightmare. He wouldn't be able to handle hearing Robbe's pained moans as someone kicked him in the stomach.

A tear slipped again and Sander wiped it with the back of his hand. He wished he could get these images out of his head. Forgetting would be so much easier than seeing the terror on Robbe's bleeding face.

''I suggested to leave. I was annoyed by the lack of intimacy in the bar that prevented me from kissing and touching Robbe, so we left. Despite drinking a similar amount of alcohol, Robbe was far drunker than I was. He was all smiles and giggles on the sidewalk, hugging me and even jumping on my back like a baby koala.'' Sander smiled at the happy memory, the only one from the night.

Something most ignored about Robbe was that he was an extremely cuddly and clingy person. To most, he appeared as closed off and distant, but not with Sander. On the contrary, he always had to touch Sander. Even a kiss wasn't enough, Robbe had to have at least one hand on him, touching his face, shoulder - anything. Maybe it was a proximity need or just because it was Robbe's first relationship experience. Lucky for Robbe, Sander liked his clinginess. He found it adorable.

''I kissed him before grabbing our bikes, eager to get home- I mean, here, but this group of guys started yelling slurs at us. It was gross stuff. I chose to be the bigger person and ignore them. We tried to hurry, unlock our bikes fast, alas we weren't fast enough... They caught Robbe first and, when I tried to go and help him, another guy grabbed me by my hood from the back and-'' Sander's bottom lip trembled, incapable to finish.

Milan reached out and put a comforting hand on his knee, not knowing Sander's limits. Robbe had grown accustomed to Milan's touchiness, but it was Sander's first time meeting him. He didn't know what the boundaries between them were yet.

''I can't imagine how traumatic tonight must've been for you. It's normal to be scared right now and it's normal to feel a bit paranoid too. Dealing with the aftermath of an attack isn't a piece of cake, but you have each other. Allow yourself to have each other. I know you want to be strong in front of Robbe, but you don't have to carry all this weight on you. Don't let a distance form between you two because of this; let it pull you closer.'' Milan paused, seeing some movement from Robbe's side of the bed.

By reflex, Sander glanced at him, looking so small under the blanket. He'll admit, leaving had been tempting. If he left, he wouldn't hurt Robbe anymore, but Milan's perspective made him realize that leaving would cause more pain to Robbe. So, he wasn't going anywhere.

''I have been lucky and never got into a similar situation, but Robbe's kind of my little protege and seeing him in pain because some conceited assholes couldn't stand seeing a different kind of love than theirs hurts me. He never told me, but I know he's struggling to accept his sexuality and this attack just made it more difficult for him. So many have gone back into the closet after being attacked, I hope it doesn't happen to Robbe.''

Robbe made a whining noise and rubbed his nose, a sign that he was waking up. Seeing this, Milan took this as his queue to part, leaving the young lovers to themselves.

''Sander?'' he said in a soft, sleepy voice. Robbe gently reached out to him, knowing that Sander was behind him, and hissed, the bruises on his stomach and chest throbbing at the stretch.

''I'm here. Don't hurt yourself.'' Sander took his hand, gently placing a kiss on the back of his hand. ''Do you need anything?'' the guilt left inside him asked.

For the past hours, everyone at the flatshare has been at his bedside, constantly asking if he - or Sander - needed anything like a glass of water, painkillers or another pillow. It was heartwarming to see everyone being there for him and caring. Even Senne, whom Robbe barely interacted with.

Robbe shook his head. ''Just lay down with me. I need you close.''

Sander nodded, more than happy to do that. He slid down under the covers and pulled Robbe into his arms, carefully wrapping his arms around him, trying to not touch where he was hurt. ''Is this okay? I'm not hurting you, am I?''

''No.'' The brunet leaned back into his boyfriend, a blanket of safety enveloping him. A small smile settled on Robbe's lips when he felt Sander's platinum hair tickle his neck where he hid his face. ''This is perfect.''

[ebola-kun]

L.A.'s Music Industry Women Are Sick of the Same Old Song When It Comes to Equality | L.A. Weekly

"Threats, hate accounts, weird fan interactions, being hacked several times over the last year — reporting harassment and blocking just became a part of life as I now know it," Addams says. "For some fans it became their life's mission to watch my every move via social media, create false narratives, all in order to let people know that I am not perfect. The same fake accounts of online detectives trying to prove by my actions that I might possibly be lying. They suggested I deserved what happened to me. They questioned why after 20 years would I destroy a man's life? I did not destroy anybody's life. The man who did what he did to me and many other women destroyed his own life by his egregious actions."

Courtesy Purple Crush

Women in the music industry who come forward with similar stories can expect just as much harassment, judgment and doubt online as support, and probably more of the former because "sex, drugs and rock & roll" is built into its mystique. It's expected. Still, some have been brave enough to speak out regardless. In the pop world, Taylor Swift and Kesha were the biggest names to call out behaviors ranging from inappropriate to abusive. And in R&B and hip-hop, the list of men accused of varying degrees of assault goes on and on: Russell Simmons, R. Kelly, L.A. Reid, Chris Brown —all of whom seem to have been for the most part, unscathed professionally. Indeed, the inherent rebelliousness and seduction of the music world makes for a slippery slope. While I spoke with women in indie and rock music for this story, there are so many more to talk to and the problem is far-reaching. The L.A. Weekly will continue to explore these issues within other genres and L.A. nightlife environments on a regular basis next year.

The dance music world for example, is particularly troublesome. Isla Jones of the electro-dance group Purple Crush and promoter of L.A.'s Banjee Ball parties recalls how she found herself the target of cyberbullying via DJ/producer Diplo's Hollertronix message board. "There was this 'dude bro' persona that Diplo iconified, which legions of internet DJs emulated. Being the outspoken woman that I am, I became an easy target for them and was clowned on a weekly basis," she says. The clowning translated into physical violence a couple times, and Jones, who is known in L.A. for her inclusive LGBTQ events, says that it was celebrated online. "It felt like digital rape."

Alice Glass, former frontwoman of Crystal Castles, is one of the few indie artists who came out with a story similar to Addams', accusing her ex-bandmate and beau Ethan Kath of physical and sexual abuse in October 2017. He denied it and filed a defamation suit against her, which was later dismissed. She has gone on to make some of the most powerful music of her career and now is seen as an advocate for victims of assault. In general, though, women who want to prove they can rock with the boys seem more likely to suck it up. As one rock legend tells it, it's hard enough getting acknowledged as a musician in the first place.

"The Go-Go's had been together for three years and could sell out any club we played on the West Coast," recalls guitarist/songwriter Jane Wiedlin, "yet not one major label was interested in us. The attitude was, there'd never been a successful all-female band and so there never would be. There was even an article on the front page of the L.A. Times' Calendar section: 'Why Can't The Go-Go's Get a Record Deal?' It was very frustrating. Finally, a new and tiny label, I.R.S. Records, came to see us, loved us, and offered us a record deal."

Brit Witt at Coachella

Zane Roessell

Though I.R.S. was small, it cared about the band and supported them irrespective of sex, which put The Go-Go's on a successful, hit-packed trajectory. Still, when Wiedlin forged a career on her own years later, she was not immune to vulturous actions. "When I first went solo, in 1985, I took a dinner meeting with a record producer who claimed he wanted to work with me," she recalls. "He ended up trapping me in a room and wouldn't let me leave until I 'put out.' I ended up giving in because I didn't know what else to do. For decades I thought it was my fault, because I hadn't fought back. Now I feel differently about it. Now I know I was assaulted by a sexual predator."

Wiedlin's story is not revelatory but it does reflect how women who accepted these behaviors back then view their experiences now. And whether onstage or off-, the challenges remain the same. Even when women seemingly are in control, they often have to deal with limitations that hinder their success if they don't act a certain way. Men in power were — and are — allowed to wield it without judgment; women, not so much.

Michelle Carr at Jabberjaw

Courtesy Jabberjaw

Britt Witt has made a name for herself booking and running the Hi Hat in Highland Park, but it didn't come easy. "I think I was in denial. I think I still am because I've always just focused on getting the job done rather than why I can't," she explains. "I [used to] attribute being dismissed, ignored and underpaid to just not being good enough. Nowadays, I realize that I'm constantly overcoming the challenge of being considered intimidating, brash or bitchy just because I put my foot down in the same places men do. Encountering skepticism with ideas and facts where a man repeats the same statement minutes later to celebration."

From management to booking to being a club owner, the frustrations I've heard from women working in the music biz over the years have played like a badly broken record. "Owning a music venue with a guy was very frustrating in that I was never taken seriously," says Michelle Carr, proprietress of legendary '90s music venue Jabberjaw, where Nirvana famously first played L.A. "Most would not take my word. They more often than not would seek out Gary [her former partner] for any wants or needs — he was the default. What was most surprising was when even the Riot Grrrl contingent would treat me as such."

Dayle Gloria, who booked the legendary L.A. club Scream, helping to discover bands like Jane's Addiction in the process, and later the Viper Room, echoes Carr's complaints about being taken seriously. "In order to do that I had to really 'man up,' leaving so much of my femininity behind," she admits. "I was always a tomboy but had to be harder than that. If I asked for something once, it was never enough. It was getting to the point where to be heard I had to yell and scream. To get things done. It's not a great way to live."

"I wanted to be seen as a professional manager and executive, and not looked upon as a groupie, girlfriend or disposable mommy," echoes Vicky Hamilton, known for her work managing Guns N' Roses and Poison in the '80s. "To be treated fairly and paid equal to a man for the work done. I have a much better track record then many of my male counterparts, and the bands I have worked with have sold over 250 million records collectively, but I feel it is much harder to get financial backing for my new record company than it would be for a white male with lesser achievements."

Dayle Gloria with Scott Weiland

Courtesy Dayle Gloria

Witt books some of the hottest shows in L.A. right now, but Gloria and Carr are happily out of the music and club business (though Carr is working on a documentary about Jabberjaw). Hamilton soldiers on with a new label, Dark Spark Music, even after years of not being acknowledged for her contributions. "[When] I was an A&R person at a major label, the executive who was supposed to be mentoring me, who took full credit for a band that I brought to the label, told me that my snake in the grass was about recognition and credit. My response was, 'No shit, since I never seem to get either around here.' A month later my contract option was not renewed," she recalls.

Fear of not being seen as a team player or even losing one's job has been a factor for many women in terms of the varying levels of bad treatment they might accept. It's one of the reasons the news about FYF Fest founder Sean Carlson took so long to surface. Nobody wanted to be the first one, possibly standing alone against a powerful man, to put the truth out there. But as detailed in a 2017 Spin magazine article, Carlson's misconduct was "an open secret" for quite some time. Though the Spin piece featured all but one woman sharing stories anonymously, the tales of assault at FYF-associated parties were corroborated by many on social media afterward, and Carlson himself issued a statement to Spin acknowledging his behavior. "I acted inappropriately and shamefully, and deeply regret my actions," he wrote, though the end of the statement went for the all-too-common "blame it on the alcohol" type of excuses that some felt were disingenuous.

Goldenvoice severed all ties with Carlson just before the story broke around this time last year. Soon after, in what should have been a validating and somewhat victorious moment for women, Goldenvoice announced that FYF would go on, unveiling a female-heavy lineup minus Carlson's input, curated mostly by women at the company, including Goldenvoice vet Jennifer Yacoubian, who previously booked the El Rey Theatre and the Shrine Auditorium. The lineup, one of the best FYF would ever see, included Janet Jackson as headliner along with Florence + the Machine, St. Vincent, The Breeders, The xx, U.S. Girls, My Bloody Valentine, Charlotte Gainsbourg and more. But a few months later the entire fest was canceled, reportedly due to low ticket sales. Many journalists, including this one, were dumbfounded that a lineup like that could fail, and a fair share wondered online if there was more to the cancellation. Many of us are hoping that FYF will try again for a similarly gender-equal lineup next year. We'll see.

Vicky Hamilton with Bret Michaels

Courtesy Vicky Hamilton

Festival culture has in many ways become a microcosm of the music world these days, reflecting sexual culture and pop culture in general. The biggest, Coachella, also put together by Goldenvoice/AEG, has made some strides in representing the concerns of women onstage and off-, but for many of us more is needed, and all the major promoters could do better. Warped Tour brought in a group called Safe Spaces to monitor safety for young girls at the event, and even amidst controversy concerning the group's tactics, it was a signal for change that had a positive impact. Unfortunately, Warped is now kaput.

Warped vet Monique Powell of the ska-punk outfit Save Ferris has used her social media to call out the disparities she's seen as a performer on the festival circuit for years, such as flyers, posters and advertisements that belittle female performers by putting them at the bottom of the bill, even when their bands have bigger followings. She also has told the world about the outright sexism she's encountered on tour from promoters, other bands and even her own bandmates. Like Addams, Powell became the victim of brutal online harassment after a legal battle ensued over use of Save Ferris' name when she sought to forge a comeback after a long hiatus. It got worse when she won the case.

"People didn't like that I was bringing it back and I was doing it my way," she says wearily. "I was trolled. I got death threats. And the commonality was unmistakable: They were all young men, 25 to 35 and they all liked a specific band from Orange County."

Powell stops short of naming the band but says a long-held rivalry with a male singer in the scene has led to her feeling unsafe and targeted in recent years, even by the media (TMZ, Perez Hilton and O.C. Weekly's reports about the lawsuit all seem to subtly villainize her). Powell, who lives in L.A. now but grew up in Orange County, says she became "a punching bag. I believe that in Orange County, and in L.A. as well, there's still an accepted underlying misogyny, where strong women who have a voice are not considered ladylike, and therefore not to be trusted."

Save Ferris' Monique Powell

Josh Coffman

To counteract this perception, Powell is shining a light on it, sharing her experiences online and hashtagging them with #dontskirttheissue. She hopes to take the conversation that has emerged and turn it into something bigger, with meetups and a bona fide watchdog group that points out women in music being overlooked and judged by their gender unfairly, in promos, media and more.

Mobilization is coming from all fronts right now, and speaking out is only the beginning. Like the women mentioned thus far, Daisy O'Dell, Ana Calderon, Michelle Pesce and Kate Mazzuca are all names known in local music circles nightlife and beyond, the first three as top L.A. DJs and music curators/supervisors and the latter as a marketing and events entrepreneur. Last year, around the same time that #MeToo started building steam, they sought to make change for women in nightlife by creating a group called, fittingly, woman. The collective grew out of a weekly lunch gathering of female DJs, and its goals were many, but the main one was to create welcoming and safe environments for women in a music and club scene where objectification and discrimination had become commonplace and stories of assault and druggings at venues, some where the gals spun, had started to become more frequent. The women of woman. realized that it was the mindset — of venue owners and promoters, who were all male — that needed to change.

Calderon recalls her aggravation sitting in on club meetings. "We would hear some of the most obscene discussions that you would never expect to hear today about women and women attending venues," she reveals, going on to recount the conversation that made her quit doing clubs in bottle service–driven West Hollywood. "I was brought in to bring more interesting people to the club, and it was a lot of Eastside creatives and LGBT, but at one particular meeting a promoter said he appreciated the mix I brought in but he wondered if I could 'target prettier trans people.' I walked out. I was sad and grossed out and felt like something needed to be done. We couldn't have clubs owned and run just by men anymore."

"What's interesting is that these feelings of unrest, of wanting to take action in terms of sexism and misogyny — even though we were all somewhat isolated from each other — happened simultaneously," interjects O'Dell, who encountered a lot of both as a touring DJ for concerts and in clubs. She realized it was embedded into the system she was a part of. "We were all coming to the same realization that, as veterans in this industry, we had to do something because the younger generation kind of looks to us to lead anyway."

Courtesy woman.

Earlier this year, the ladies pulled together their resources and sought to open an all-female-run nightclub. But as fate would have it, on the day they were going to sign the lease for the perfect Hollywood space, an accusation of abuse emerged against one of the building's owners by his former girlfriend. Though he was a male ally to their vision, they opted not to move forward. Hesitant to qualify the allegations as true or false (charges have since been dropped), they admit there was internal conflict. "It was a very difficult decision to make because we had worked so hard and we had come so far and we had gotten so close," O'Dell says. Adds Calderon, "It was heartbreaking."

O'Dell and Calderon say they will open up a club one day but in the meantime they are channeling their energy into initiatives: The first is a list of guidelines for the nightclub industry touting inclusion and equality; and the second is an even bigger objective that goes beyond clubs and into events, including the all-important music festival arena.

soteria.

Named for the Greek goddess of safety and salvation, "soteria." is a designated safe space and service hub at music events created to ensure "the safety and well-being of any visitor experiencing trauma trigger, harassment, sexual misconduct and/or assault."

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They already instituted soteria. (which they stress is for everyone who might feel vulnerable at music events, not just women) at the Form festival in Arizona and the Summit LA18 event last month in DTLA with great success, providing safety ambassadors and crisis managers on the ground as well as a private "sanctuary room" and lounge area. They promise much more to come, changing the game for people who love music and those who make it at events.coalition

Sadly, Addams is not making music any longer, but for those who are, like Glass, and new female artists, establishing boundaries is key so that the various forms of mistreatment outlined here will no longer be normalized. Despite the challenges, more women than ever are out there rocking, and in L.A. acts like Starcrawler, Deap Vally, The Regrettes, Cherry Glazerr, Kate Crash, Beck Black, Feels, Dorothy, War Paint, Best Coast and so many more are re-defining the roles, audaciously and unapologetically, scoring huge opening-band tour slots and higher rankings on festival lineups in the process. Local female ground-breakers like L7, Allison Wolfe, Abby Travis, Alice Bag, and Miss Wiedlin herself, are still at it too.

In addition to woman. other groups are providing even more platforms: the Women of Rock project has been collecting stories for some time now, and there's the Girl Cult coalition (which has an event this weekend). There's also Women in Music L.A, and the new book Women Who Rock has spawned an activist group as well. Private women's groups on Facebook have been a resource for women from all walks of life (the music world included) such as "Girls Night Out" and "Binders Full of Women Writers," both of which throw events in town. The latter has led to a popular annual event called BinderCon in various cities.

Beyond supporting each other and holding certain men responsible for their actions, the cultural reckoning happening right now is about finding power in numbers. In the L.A. music scene, it's transcending talk, taking action and hopefully transforming old norms so that real change can occur and everyone, no matter what gender they identify with, can unite and celebrate life. "Solutions are the future of the conversation," O'Dell says hopefully. "It's so exciting to see what was born out of women in nightlife and music holding space for each other."

This content was originally published here.

[hanjisungz-archive]

I DIDN'T SAID I LOVED HIM DIRECTLY LIKE THAT...... Let me live britt I literall have a lot of things to blame like i blame on you for everthing also on him for playing with lucio, on him for being a sweetheart too like it's totally and 100% not my fault.

👀👀👀👀👀 mhm okay miss kelly,,,,,,, but i remember u saying he is ‘a sweetheart and a cutie’ also ‘so smart’....... its not My fault u couldnt resist his laugh and smirk 👀👀👀👀

[originalnovelist]

The Letter left for Mercedes on Mother’s Day. 

It has taken me a very long time to do this, and because I never say the things I mean to say verbally. I figured paper would be the only way for me to make sure you understand me certainly. Pain is a constant and can be perceived in many ways, and when it’s disconnected in the physical sense it becomes an illusion of the mind they say. As a young boy I was terrified of losing you, you had become such an important beacon in my life that I was always so uncertain of what would become of it without you. I don’t think I was ever ready for marriage I just think I wasn’t willing to lose you. And you left anyway. Most people would have gotten over it, that’s fine for them. I’m not most people and you just weren’t anybody you were my soulmate. For a long time, I fought with myself, because loving you will always be easier. But if I didn’t turn my hate on you, I would’ve ended up just hating myself.  

There was never a good enough outlet for my heart break, and I was told that I was stupid for even trusting you. What were I to do? I used the only thing I knew could help and told myself that maybe for a while I could write it all out and wouldn’t have to think about you until tomorrow. Tomorrow turned into days, days faded into weeks, weeks blossomed to months with no relief. School was supposed to be a greater escape and had honestly became my biggest mistake. Simply opening the door to a World filled with women willing to do whatever I say. Mandy, to Sabrina, Heather then Stephanie, and the list goes on each one used in a course of action to replace a gaping hole that was left in my heart with no remorse. I fucked what’s her name to comprehend why you never called. The blonde girl from the Soccer team because I couldn’t self-harm. Britt from the that one night when I lost your bracelet with the little treble clef charm. Busty Brunettes helped to cope with my incapability to travel to LA or Overseas, but when I came I overcame and maybe it was fine to live in a life filled with false hope and dreams because maybe my desire to love you wasn’t really reality. And I hated you. And I killed you in my head. And you got bigger and my ego grew as well. And your face was everywhere but I was never by your side in the red-carpet pictures. And you looked happy but how was that possible when I wasn’t there with you? Oh right. They told me I was stupid for trusting you, and I guess you were right, because either money brought you that damn happiness or another man took you. And who ever the fuck it was didn’t deserve you, he wouldn’t get you pregnant either, that was supposed to be my kid you carried – I thought I told you.

Ownership. A book brought attention and I became somebody despite the small town you left me in to drown. Tears turned into cheers and laughter, popping bubbly at the expensive of my describing your bare ass in blank pages, sorry. I just really wanted your attention, but you didn’t take the bait. One book, two, three books, maybe four? Did I mention I bought every CD? Every song I owned, playing them like it was your way of professing your undying love. Still hadn’t called. But I was still listening because somehow, we were still conversing. And I heard every word you had to say. Praying all the while that the pain rolled away like the tears shedding from a woman who realized that they weren’t you, so I could never give them all of me and she could never have your place. Chipping away at me, it begin to make my day when a pit stop home brought you into my arms. But I hadn’t prayed enough because each time you left with no mention the hate returned until you did. Maybe all this time I just wanted you to tell me you really needed me too. But that fact wasn’t true. Man, I still loved you.

When it caught up to me, the ownership, I made the mistake of placing my all into someone that wasn’t you. Someone I became used to. She was something to tie down, something so convenient. By this point I just wished you let me marry you. By this time I was mess. Beating her because she wasn’t you, by this time, there was no more of the Samuel you knew left. He’d been laying among demons each spirit of the women I used riding my back draining me of whatever was left. The fire replaced all of the love. Life had no meaning; my skies were never blue. The ends of the oceans seemed more promising maybe even my immediate death too. You left me with nothing, yet I was still willing to die for you, damn. Great, still not over you. Now that fact even the angels in heaven above knew was true. I turned the blind eye, but I wouldn’t deny.

Your beauty was captivating, and I told myself you’d come to take me away. Peace. Serenity. Tranquility. My mind was as clear as the picture before me where you lay. With you in my arms I was safe from harm. With you in my arms no woman could put on their charm. In your arms hearts beat as one. In your arms. I’d sworn to love. I still needed you to rescue me like I always had. Though you didn’t have a cape instead you had a trench coat, peep toe heel, and glass of my Aberlour. Funny thing, I was never torn. Not as long as I were in your arms. And that stupid fucking girl woke my love when she threatened you physical harm. I was your knight in shining armor to protect you at all cost was my little secret charm. I wanted you all to myself, to share you was to settle for less. I gave a piece of myself away everyday after you left, but to trace my steps I’d glue them back in place to have gotten you to stay. Didn’t Mexico show you that, my declaration that you were mine and that dude couldn’t have you back? That you weren’t going anywhere, the only way you could walk away is if you told me you was coming right back. Waking up next to you made my heart skip a beat, no drug had ever done that. You smiled, and I swear the sun shined brighter, I told CJ, and that bitch said weed could’ve only make you think that. My sister told me not to take you back. Every bitch tried but I said fuck all of that. To have you back was to heal a soul, to have you near was prayers come true my dear, sincere in every touch you gave. Just a “hello” from you could have made me behave I swear.

I grew cold. Outsiders finding every excuse to take me from you. I loved you and maybe that wasn’t enough. I loved you, but I forgot about trust. The illusion of pain, painted a picture of things I hadn’t seen, yet believed. I could blame the weed but that was all on me. No drink told me to cheat on you. No bitch could compare to you. My baby tucked safely inside, and I rather lay up in that bitch bed then be with you. And it makes me sick because I don’t know what was going on in my fucking head, damn Sam what the fuck did you do? Every flaw and imperfection became cherished tears sheded because I’d rather have them then an empty bed. The hate returned because it was easy to argue rather then lay beside you and look into your eyes. You’d see my lies or smell them on me. I didn’t want anything going through your head. That wasn’t something even I was willing to see. So stupid, I feel like shit for everything I put you through. And funny, they told me I shouldn’t trust you? I am the fuck up but somehow, I put it all on you? My baby looks just like you, that’s all I wanted was you two. All the other shit was done the second you said yes to an I do. The minute my baby breathed life and laid her head against you. Seeing you with her was my dream come true, please come back because I don’t know what to do.

I am dying now, no longer lost without you. I’m losing myself what do I have to do? Let me fix it I swear I’m worth it, no longer doubt me, causing you pain is no longer my purpose. I take it back you are the best, you rest your case. Don’t hurt the woman you love, I now respect what they say. To have you back I’d give you my heart, wrap it up and place it in a case. If it chips again there will be nothing left. I can’t breathe without you Mercedes, suffocating under the weight of my own heartache. I turned your ring into our daughter’s bracelet because I couldn’t stand walking past it every day. The snakes are gone, we can build a tree house in it’s place. No car compares to the cost of your lost to date. Books can’t be written without content. What’s the purpose of this big as house now you not in it? Shit doesn’t make sense, what am I supposed to do. And I only ever loved my baby because she was a part of you. Do you think I can just get over you? Are meaning to show me you don’t love me and that you are really through? Couldn’t see me beside anyone else. Picture perfect, sorry I knock all the picture off the self. I want to be on the carpet beside you he doesn’t get a chance. And I’ll kill him if he ever tried again. I wasn’t a real man I understand, but a real admits his wrongs. And that’s why this shit is so fucking long. Please just come back home.

I’d do anything just to be with you. Sail rough seas, and treach through valley’s too. Climb a mountain, say I do, die too. I know I can trust you. And in case I die, and you didn’t know, despite it all I still love you. You are my everything and I’d always care about you. Know I never meant to hurt you and if I could take it back there’s nothing I wouldn’t do. I know it’s all my fault and I don’t hate you. I was too immature to admit it had always been you. I guess I was oblivious to the fact that I could lose you. And that you’d never come back despite our baby too. No matter the bond you can’t trust me and its plane to see you just don’t want me. And I know I don’t deserve your sympathy. But shit happens, and it happened to you, but you can work it out with me. Stop being angry. We can work this out together you’ll see.    

Sam

[notarelationship]

Clinging to This Hating Game 3/?

For the @prompt-a-klainefic blog’s 2017 Reverse Bang

Link to the art by @datshitrandom

the prompt:

Kurt and Blaine couldn’t stand each other in high school, maybe one was a jock/cheerleader and the other a nerd/glee clubber. Or they were bitter rivals for competition solos if they were both in glee club. Now they both live in NY and their friends set them up on a blind date, not knowing they went to the same high school.

High School AU, Cheerio!Kurt, Jock!Blaine Rating: Explicit Warnings:  some bullying and homophobic language, teenage sex Word Count: ~5300 (this chapter)

Thanks as always to my superbeta @mshoneysucklepink.

Everything wonky is my fault.

AO3 link Chapter 3

On tumblr: Ch 1, Ch 2

--

Kurt was nervous heading to the party. It was his first party since his ill advised hook-up with Blaine and, while he didn’t have any misconceptions about what sort of hook ups might occur at this party, Blaine was going to be there.

He didn’t blame Blaine for what had happened that night - he couldn’t bring himself to be that unfair, as much as it would have made it easier on himself. Kurt simply didn’t enjoy being faced with his mistake on an almost daily basis.

Because that’s what it had been, he knew that now. He didn’t let himself regret it as much as want to put it out of his mind. Blaine was making that difficult.

Mike’s house was in one of the nicer middle class neighborhoods of Lima, and while it wasn’t ostentatiously large there was a lot of front lawn. He was walking up the wide driveway with Quinn, Santana and Brittany when Puck’s truck pulled up and parked directly in front of the house. Puck and Finn jumped out of the front of the cab; Blaine and Beckham climbed out of the back.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. If Blaine and Beckham were showing up at the party in the back of Puck’s truck then it was hardly a date, at least not by Kurt’s standards. Not that he’d ever been on a date. Or was thinking about if they were on a date.

Still, he worked to ignore the butterflies banging around in his stomach as they stood on the front lawn and watched the boys head up the house

“Are we going in?” Santana asked. “Or are we going to hang out here in the front all night looking gorgeous?”

“We’re always gorgeous, Santana,” Kurt volleyed back. “But yes, let’s go in.”

“S’up,” Puck nodded at Quinn as he caught up with them, the other boys trailing.

“Congratulations boys, that was an impressive win,” Quinn answered, her voice calm.

Kurt tensed just a bit, and he could tell Santana was reacting similarly on the other side of Quinn. Puck had been kryptonite for Quinn during sophomore year and even though they had seemed to have gotten over each other, Kurt knew that Puck possessed enough dangerous charm to mess Quinn up if he wanted.

The boys mumbled their thanks, walking past them into the house. Blaine glanced in Kurt’s direction as they passed, but Beckham was looking at his feet the whole time. Santana sidled up to Kurt once they had gone into the house.

“What is going on there Hummel?” She asked quietly.

Kurt half-shrugged and shook his head once. “I’m not entirely sure.”

Once inside they gathered their drinks and found a corner of the living room already occupied by a few other Cheerios and got to gossiping about the football team, college applications and who was most likely to wind up knocked up before they graduated. There was still a few months, after all.

“You’re not drinking, Kurt?” One of the other girls asked. She’d been on the JV squad since last year but Kurt couldn’t remember her name. She always seemed to be wearing a neckbrace.

“Designated driver,” he said, wiggling his fingers in the air in an approximation of a wave. “Besides, I think I’ll wait to uncover my inner alcoholic when there’s something other than Jagermeister and Schaeffer in cans on offer.”

“It all gets you drunk.” Neckbrace rolled her eyes. Kurt noticed Santana bristle at that. Santana could harass Kurt all day and into the night about his occasionally uptight behavior, but damned if she’d let anyone else give him attitude.

“Yes, well, tonight I’ll pass. I promised Finn I’d drive so he could enjoy the party.” Kurt looked around, sipping his pop. “Has anyone seen him? He wasn’t in the front when I came in.”

“I think that Berry chick dragged him into the basement,” another girl offered. When Kurt made a horrified face she added, “They have a karaoke machine set up down there, I think.”

The music upstairs was loud, so Kurt couldn’t hear anything from the basement, but he excused himself and headed to find Finn. Santana, Brittany and Quinn followed him down the stairs.

When they reached the room where the karaoke was happening Kurt was less surprised to find Rachel standing in front of the machine emoting Stevie Nicks than he was when he realized Blaine was her duet partner. He hated how amazing they sounded.

Kurt stood in the back, frowning at them, wondering idly exactly how much sabotage would be beneath him, and if Santana would help him (he was pretty sure she would).

“Hey.” It was Santana, as if on cue. She nudged his shoulder, nodding across the room, where Beckham was standing, staring daggers at Rachel as she play-acted against Blaine’s Tom Petty. “I always wondered about him, but he never let anything slip.” Kurt huffed. “I guess Blaine’s got more skills than football and singing, huh?”

Kurt turned to her, eyebrows raised. “What do you mean?”

Santana smirked. “Obviously he’s the Twink Whisperer.”

-

Kurt and the girls hung out in the basement for a while, eventually taking their turn on the karaoke machine. Everyone in the room got drunker, except Kurt.

After running through their repertoire of solo choices, Brittany punched in “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls and the four of them got up and bounced around, singing and pulling the other kids in the room into their performance. Kurt ignored the fact that Blaine stayed far away from the group. They collapsed into a heap together on the floor when they were done.

“Nice choice Britt, that was fun.” Santana leaned across Kurt to give her girlfriend a kiss on the cheek.

“I thought for sure Beck would join in,” Kurt said playfully. “I mean it is his namesake.”

Quinn gave him a confused look. “What?”

“Victoria Beckham? That’s obviously where his name comes from.” Kurt looked at the three of them.

“Kurt, sweetheart, I know you’re gay as a three dollar rainbow but he was not named after a Spice Girl.” Santana explained, laughing. “He was named after her husband.”

It was Kurt’s turn to be confused. “Why would someone name their child after an underwear model?”

Quinn laughed. “Oh my god, Kurt, he’s not - ”

“Come on everyone let’s play spin the bottle!” Rachel was standing in the middle of the basement room, an empty wine cooler bottle in one hand and a full one in the other.

After various noises of objection and resignation, a group of willing players moved to the room next door and some other group took over the karaoke machine.

Kurt wanted no part of spin the bottle, especially since Blaine was one of the people coerced into playing, so he found a corner that wasn’t too occupied and sat back to watch the teenage carnage unfold.

It started out more or less fun. But as the game went on and Beckham had to watch Blaine kiss more people that weren't him, Kurt could see the boy get more and more agitated. When Blaine wound up kissing Rachel on the mouth for much too long Kurt thought Beckham was going to tear them apart with his own hands.

When the bottle finally unleashed its magic in Beckham’s direction, he lept across the circle and planted a kiss on Blaine with enough enthusiasm to elicit ooohs and catcalls from the rest of the group.

“Someone wants a piece of your ass Anderson,” Puck crudely observed.

Blaine blew it off. “It’s just the game.” He shrugged and looked flustered. “It’s all right.” Beckham’s face was beet red.

At some point Santana’s spin landed on Brittany, and instead of stopping they just rolled themselves out of the circle and into a corner to continue making out.

When they’d had their fill of each other they joined Kurt on the sofa to watch the game play out, and when they grabbed some shots from a passing tray he indulged along with them.

“Oh my god, that tastes like motor oil.” Kurt gagged as the flavor backed up his throat. “Gross. No wonder I don't drink at these things.”

“You don’t drink at these things because you’ve got one leg in a nursing home, Hummel, don’t kid yourself.”

“Better than having one wrapped around a stripper pole,” Kurt shot back, but there wasn’t (much) heat behind it. The teasing went on for a while, but when the spin the bottle game broke up they all wandered back to the room with the karaoke to find, to everyone’s delight, that someone had plugged in an ipod and karaoke had turned into a dance party.

Couples had paired off, and Kurt saw Beckham tug Blaine into a dark corner, so he danced with the girls for a while. Eventually, Puck pulled Quinn away - eliciting a raised eyebrow from Santana. Kurt excused himself after that, leaving Santana to Brittany’s mercy, and wandered upstairs.

Kurt made a solo loop around the house, wondering how MIke was going to get it cleaned up before his parents came home on Sunday night. He hoped for Mike’s sake they didn’t come home early.

The line for the bathroom on the first floor was long, and rather than take the advice of several hockey players and relieve himself in the hydrangea bush out back Kurt decided to risk going upstairs. He assumed the upstairs was full of classmates in various states of undress (or worse), but he thought if he just focused on getting to the bathroom he wouldn’t be exposed to too many teenage hormones.

Kurt slipped up the stairs, making small talk with his classmates as he passed them. He didn’t have a lot of close friends at the school - and didn’t want them, but he was a Cheerio and by default fit in the class of ‘popular’ students. He was pleased to find that the line for the upstairs bathroom was much shorter, with only two people ahead of him. Kurt was thumbing through his Instagram feed when the door to the bathroom opened and Blaine stumbled out, Beckham tucked up against his back, his hands tight at Blaine’s waist. They both looked drunk and he watched them stagger down the hall in the opposite direction until they tumbled through a half-open door, slamming it behind them. Kurt swore under his breath.

By the time he worked his way back downstairs, Kurt’s heart was banging in his chest, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

It shouldn’t bother him, Beckham and Blaine, there wasn’t any reason for it. He didn’t want either of them - he wasn’t jealous of that.

Kurt rubbed the heels of his hands in his eyes, pressing hard against his eyelids. Kurt had been the only out gay kid he knew for years. Even before he was really aware of what it meant to be gay, other kids - hell, adults, had assumed things about him that he barely understood. And when he when he did want to hide it was almost impossible.

He had Santana now, and Brittany, and they helped him feel at less alone, but Kurt had been going to school with Beckham Lee for years. And while Kurt would never, ever, expect someone to come out before they were ready, or ever, if they didn’t feel comfortable, he was having a hard time reconciling the fact that he could know this boy for years, that this boy could have witnessed the things that Kurt went through (because honestly, Kurt’s humiliation was nothing if not public) and never say a word, but the minute handsome, talented, charming Blaine Anderson shows up he’s ready to expose himself in a room crowded with his drunken classmates without so much as a second thought.

Kurt opened his eyes, gasping. There were other people in the room, but they weren’t paying much attention to him. He was in the kitchen, so he lifted a half empty bottle of something and a plastic cup and walked out into the back yard.

It was late October chilly, but Kurt didn’t care. He found a spot not already occupied by couples making out and sat, pouring what was probably too much alcohol into the cup. He swallowed a few gulps. It tasted like the foul shot from the basement. He drank some more. He wondered how much he’d have to drink before he either threw up or passed out.

-

Kurt didn’t know how he got home, but when he opened his eyes again he was in his own bed, stripped down to a t-shirt and his underwear. His mouth tasted like hot asphalt and he wasn’t sure he could move his head if he wanted to.

“Kurt!” His dad called, followed by three explosions that could have been knocks on his door. Kurt heard himself whimper. “I’m coming in son.”

Burt sat on the bed next to Kurt’s legs, but all Kurt could do was stare at the ceiling and blink.

“So I have to say that I’m a little disappointed in you, Kurt.” Burt set a large bottle of water and two ibuprofen down on the side table. “But not for the reasons I suspect you think.” Kurt wanted to nod, or say yes, or apologize, or die. “For the time being I’m going to hold off on being angry about this until you can speak for yourself.”

Kurt managed a nod to show he understood. “Dad?” He croaked.

“Yes Kurt?”

“When does it stop spinning?”

-

Kurt didn’t really fall back to sleep so much as bury his head under a pillow and lie in his bed for another few hours. After dragging himself into a shower and putting on clean clothes he felt marginally better, so he forced himself to go downstairs and face the wrath of Burt Hummel.

Finn was sitting at the dining room table in front of a plate full of homemade hamburgers, and his dad was helping his step-mother Carole put the rest of dinner on the table. Apparently he had slept the entire day. Kurt sat gingerly next to Finn.

Finn leaned in and whispered. “Dude, you were so drunk.”

“Finn, how did we get home? Tell me I didn’t drive.”

Finn chuckled. “Are you kidding? I had to carry you to the car. Brittany drove us home. Burt took me over to her house earlier to pick up your car.”

Kurt closed his eyes and tried to remember anything from last night. “Was Dad mad?”

“Well, a little, but he kept asking me what happened. He kept saying you didn’t do things like this so something must have happened.” Finn looked nervous for a moment. “He asked if someone could have slipped you something.”

Kurt managed to turn his head enough to look at Finn. “Like what?”

“Like, you know, like a roofie.” Finn looked uncomfortable again. “Do you think someone drugged you?”

Kurt chuckled darkly. “I wish I could blame someone else for this, but no. I did this to myself.”

Burt and Carole joined them before Kurt could go on or ask any more questions. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done anything stupid, or if he just passed out on the grass until someone found him. He sincerely hoped it was the latter.

Dinner was quiet, but Kurt felt about seventy five percent better after he’d eaten. He thought he could handle whatever Burt had in store for him.

When Carole drafted Finn to help her clear and clean up, Kurt knew it was time to face the music.

“Come on Kurt, there's a game on.”

Once they were settled in the den with the TV on Burt cleared his throat.

“So, was this about a boy? Because I know I wasn’t always ready for this, but you can talk to me, Kurt. Or Carole, if that’s easier.”

Kurt squirmed until he was lying flat on his back, legs stretched out over the couch. Between the unbearable pain of his first hangover and the accompanying embarrassment, Kurt wasn’t sure if he would ever feel human again.

“Sort of, I guess. But probably not the way you think.”

Burt hummed.

“It seems I'm not the only out gay kid at McKinley anymore.”

“Yeah. Finn told me about the new kid. Impressive game last night.”

Kurt huffed a humorless laugh. Of course his dad knew about Blaine’s football prowess.

“You have something going on with this kid?”

“No. Oh god no Dad.” Kurt flapped his hands in the air. “He’s - annoying.”

Burt laughed. “Finn said he was a bit of a showboat.”

“Yeah he’s just good at everything. He doesn't even have to work for it, I mean he came in and like, everyone loved him Dad. The football team is winning, he's getting all the leads in glee, he's definitely going to get the lead in the musical. It's like suddenly I’ve disappeared. I've worked so hard to be accepted, and to get what I wanted,and now it's all just back to square one.”

“I'm sure it's not as bad as all that Kurt.” Burt rubbed a broad hand over his face. “Your school applications are all in, you’ll get auditions for your programs -”

Kurt sat up, his legs swinging around as he leaned forward. Now that he was talking he just wanted to get it all out.

“It is, it's that bad.” Kurt propped his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands. “And NYADA is not a guarantee. Without the musical I have no idea if they’ll even get back to me.”

Blaine’s arrival at McKinley had upset Kurt and his expectations for his senior year, but now - raw from the hangover and alone with his dad, all of the uncertainty he’d been feeling all year came bubbling to the top and he was frustratingly aware of how completely changed everything felt.

Burt started to object, but Kurt cut him off.

“But the worst part, Dad? The worst part is that no one cares that he’s gay. I mean, I should be happy about that, right? I should be happy that everyone has evolved to the point where they just treat him like a person, and who and how he loves someone shouldn’t matter, right?”

Burt sighed, but answered slowly. “Yes, you should. But Kurt - ”

“I mean, no one’s thrown a slushie at him, or tossed him in a dumpster, or even shoved him against a locker. Not that I’ve seen anyway. And there’s this kid, at school -” Kurt stopped and looked at his dad, “I’ve always wondered, you know, if he might be, well, like me -”

“You mean gay?”

Kurt nodded. “But it’s not, I wouldn’t do that to someone - ask them - if they weren’t ready.”

Burt indicated for Kurt to go on.

“But all Blaine had to do was show up, and this kid - he started following him around like a puppy. And last night - well, let’s just say he’s not in the closet any more.” Kurt tried to sound sardonic, but he could hear the cracks in his own voice. His dad chuckled, but there was no humor in it.

“I don’t know if I’m following Kurt. Did you like this boy?”

Kurt shook his head. “No, not like that.” Kurt hugged himself, sitting back against the couch. “But, why not me? It’s not like I could hide from anyone, even when I wanted to. Why couldn’t he have come forward some other time, been my friend?”

For a moment neither of them said anything, then Burt got up from his chair and sat next to Kurt, wrapping him up in one arm.

“Kurt, I am so sorry for the things that you went through, and for not knowing what to do about them sooner. I wish things - no, I wish I had been different.” Kurt tried to object, but Burt shushed him. “No let me finish. As the parent I should have been able to figure it out sooner. No one should have to go through what you went through, and I do believe in my heart - if not my head, that the world is becoming a better and more accepting place. Whether it always wants to or not. But one thing I do know, Kurt, is that you can’t blame yourself for any of those things. You can only be yourself, all of yourself. And I think you are.”

Kurt laughed and willed himself not to cry, but wiped a sleeve across his eyes anyway. “It’s just - it would have been nice to know there was someone else. You know?”

Burt nodded, hugging Kurt tighter. “Yeah, I know son. But I’m proud of you.”

-

Kurt spent the rest of the weekend sleeping and doing his homework, and didn’t think much about what to expect when he got to school on Monday. If he had he might have been more prepared for it.

He met up with the girls in the parking lot, even Quinn - who had little to say about what she’d got up to with Puck at the party, but only smiled coyly at Kurt when he asked.

When they rounded the corner to head to class, they saw a crowd gathered around one of the lockers.

“It’s a little early for drama,” Santana said. “But who am I to question it?”

As they got closer the crowd parted a little, and they could all see, spray painted in huge black letters across a few of the lockers, F-A-G. Kurt choked back a noise that threatened to bubble out of his throat, and he could see various people looking at him as he stared.

“Whose locker is this?” Quinn demanded of the crowd.

Kurt swallowed. “It’s Beckham’s.” The girls all looked at him, but the crowd parted from the other side, and Blaine, Tina and Mike came through.

“Oh my god.” It was Tina. “Where’s Beck? Has anyone seen him?” She looked around at the crowd, and Kurt could see her start to panic. Someone said they thought he was in the office, and Tina took off in that direction, Mike on her heels.

Kurt watched Blaine, who was still staring silently at the defaced locker. After a few long seconds Blaine turned to follow Tina and Mike, brushing past Kurt as he did.

“All we did was make out at a party,” he sobbed out, so quietly Kurt was sure he was the only one who heard.

-

By the time glee club met that afternoon the news was all over the school.

“Beck’s parents pulled him out of McKinley,” Quinn whispered to him once they were sitting. “It seems his parents weren't entirely in the dark about his orientation and they've already petitioned the school board to let them home school him for the few remaining credits he needs to graduate. Turns out they'd been preparing in case something like this happened.”

Santana leaned forward, “Apparently he told his parents about all the shitty things that happened to you freshman year.” Without looking she locked her pinky with Brittany’s. “I guess some people were paying attention after all Kurt,” she said quietly.

Kurt bit his lip, hard, to keep from bursting into tears right there in class.

The class bustled in, and Kurt noticed Blaine looked a little unsteady, but he took his place next to Tina on the risers like he did every class. Mr. Schuester followed them in.

“Alright everyone, I know today has been a difficult one for a lot of people, but we need to get started on a few things. Sectionals is coming up in only a couple of weeks, and we need to cast the musical so we can get started on rehearsals.

“I was thinking we could start auditions for the musical today, so I can post the cast by the end of the week. Anyone without a prominent spot in the musical will be featured in our sectionals performance. How does that sound.”

From the murmured sounds that erupted from the group it sounded like everyone agreed that it would be a more fair opportunity for everyone than they were used to having.

“Mr. Schue,” Rachel interrupted. “I do believe that with my particular level of commitment to performance I could easily handle a major part in the musical as well as my usual place as the lead vocalist for -”

“I’ll stop you right there Rachel. We have more than enough talent for everyone to have a place right now, and I have no doubt that we will get through sectionals, no matter how the class splits its vocal duties. So why don’t you just wait until we get through rehearsals and I make some decisions about the casting before you start to petition me to make changes.” He paused, and the rumbling started up again. “That goes for everyone here.”

Rachel sat back and made a motion to zip her lips, and everyone quieted down.

Mr. Schuester drew their names out of a hat and they all auditioned at random. Kurt paid less attention to the girls as they went on, since he wasn’t in competition for them for roles, but perked up when they boys were performing.

For his own audition he’d chosen “What I Did For Love,” since Mr. Schuester had given up trying to dissuade him from singing songs written for girls early within his first six months in glee club. When Blaine, his eyes red-rimmed and blood-shot, auditioned with “Not While I’m Around” Kurt had to give him props for melodrama while trying not to blame him for what happened to Beckham. It wasn’t easy.

Beckham hadn’t been part of any popular crowds, so the only kids who were still affected by his loss were his close friends (Tina was still upset by the whole situation), so when news that there would be recruiters from some major college football teams coming to watch the team play on Friday pushed the excited uproar about his removal from school faded away. Even the posting of the cast for the musical was really only of interest to those who might get a part.

When the cast notice was posted Friday afternoon during lunch, everyone involved crowded around the board outside the choir room. Blaine, not surprisingly, was cast as the lead, and bashfully accepted congratulations from his friends in the group.

Kurt, also not surprisingly but disappointingly nonetheless, was cast as Mr. MacAfee. Santana as Rosie, Rachel as Kim, and Puck and Finn trading off the role of Conrad Birdie completed the cast. Kurt was relieved to see Mercedes cast as Mrs. MacAfee, since they generally got along and it would make the entire experience somewhat easier to bear. He grabbed her as the crowd broke up to commiserate.

“I am delighted to be your husband for this event, Miss Jones,” he teased. “I have to imagine you’re as disappointed as I am to not have a bigger role.”

Mercedes chuckled. “Well, I had a talk with Mr. Schue earlier in the week. He promised that I would get a lead at Sectionals, and some input into the song selection, so I’m willing to let it slide for now.”

“I wonder if I should go talk to him,” Kurt mused. “Get ahead of the crowd.”

“It couldn’t hurt,” Mercedes said. “But I’ll be doing a solo, so don’t even think about challenging me on that.”

Kurt held up his hands in mock protest. “I would never.”

-

Kurt Hummel was nothing if not determined, despite whatever setbacks might come his way, so if his only opportunity to shine was going to be as the campy comic relief, then he was going to be the campiest, most comic relief that anyone had ever seen.

He was still contemplating the potential things he could do in the role, what he might be able to expand or adapt, when he found himself more or less alone with Blaine Anderson in the locker room after the game that night.

“You should give up the lead in the musical,” Kurt said it to his locker, but there was no one else he could have been speaking to.

Blaine turned from his own locker, looking at Kurt as if he’d grown a second head. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“If you’re getting a football scholarship then I don’t understand why you have to take my arts scholarship too. It’s greedy.”

Blaine rolled his eyes and went back to taking his clothes off. Kurt absolutely did not sneak a sideways glance when Blaine took off his shirt

“I am definitely not getting a football scholarship, Kurt,” he said quietly.

“What are you talking about? All those scouts are here for you? And from what I hear through the grapevine there will be more next week! Why else would they be here if not to offer you a scholarship?” He went back to his locker.

Kurt could see Blaine walk toward him, stopping just a few feet away. “Look at me.”

“What?” Kurt’s skin went hot.

“Look at me, Kurt.”

Kurt did not want to look at Blaine. He knew Blaine was stripped down to his football undergarments, and he also knew what Blaine looked like with his pants (mostly) off. He centered himself, and turned towards Blaine, but let his gaze drift over his shoulder. Blaine was shorter than he was, so it wasn’t hard.

“At me, Kurt.” Kurt did. A sweep from head to toe and back, but he landed on his (so, so amber) eyes.

“I will never get a football scholarship. I am too small to play professional football. Hell, I’m too small to play college football most places. Also? I don’t want to play football. I don’t like it, I’m good at it. There’s a difference between those two things.”

“Oh poor you. So good at everything you do.” Kurt was beyond frustrated, and he couldn’t keep it out of his next question. “So what are you doing here?”

“Well, believe it or not, this strangely typical midwestern high school has apparently developed quite the reputation for the arts and as a breeding ground for talented kids. And my father was not happy with my declaration that I would not be going to school to be a lawyer, and that I planned to pursue performing arts. As a compromise, he agreed to help pay for my education only if I was accepted into a short list of elite programs, and this seemed like the best place for me to be so I could make that happen.”

Kurt scoffed. “What about your fancy prep school?”

Blaine held his hands out, an appeal for belief. “Nope. Academics, yes, and they had a decent glee club there. But it was stuffy and not very challenging and wasn’t going to get me noticed, even as the lead vocalist.” Kurt rolled his eyes, Blaine was insufferable. “Nope, it’s true. When the McKinley athletic department found out I was interested they bent over backwards to get me to come here.” Blaine put his hands on his hips. “They just want to use me to help get some of the other kids scholarships. I’m letting them.”

“It’s not fair.” Kurt shook his head and turned away.

“What’s not fair about it? I’ve worked just as hard as you have.”

Kurt spun and looked at him. “You have no idea what I’ve had to go through to make it out of here alive! What this school was like? The bullying, the threats, the general hatred and disinterest from people who should have been able to help me. And you just waltz in, Mr. Fucking Perfect at everything, and ruin all of it for everyone else. My god, Beckham wasn’t even out, and look what happened to him. Do you even care?”

Blaine took a step closer so fast Kurt flinched, eyes flashing.

“You don’t know me, Kurt. You have no idea what I care about.” Blaine took two steps back, then turned and went back to his locker, grabbing a towel from inside before storming off to the showers.

[dat-is-chill-ghafa]

Britt can get her rights revoked

So @honeyybee-15 made a realisation about the confirmation that Britt already knowing that Sander was bipolar and it catapulted into a huge ass burst of anger that now means to me that essentially fock Britt to a high extent 

SO TO START:

- Britt slapped Sander... wait for it, WHILE KNOWING THAT SANDER was bipolar. I know it’s bad enough to slap your partner in public anyway but there was some kind of justification given at the time to like what if Sander didn’t break up with her etc and they are making out in front of her school so that’s kind of bad but like no. Britt knew that Sander was bipolar but slapped him anyway without consideration like that fucking blows my mind it really does. 

- Britt is controlling as hell, not only is she in denial about Sander breaking up but she has only been dating this dude for 6 months and she’s going to pretend she is the only one that cares about Sander or knows how or what Sander is feeling?

- Britt talking to Robbe was so much goddamn worse than any Sonja because the way she phrased it, how aggressive she was and the examples she used literally did not make any sense. She invalidated Sander, all his emotions and decisions because clearly if you have a mental illness your brain dead and anything you do is not your own making like its making me really mad. 

- Britt also straight up blamed Sander for the episode that Sander had. Not like the other Sonja’s where they skirted around it or made the Isak’s feel stupid and unobservant but just went yup its your fault back away. That’s the mot damaging thing you could do and like leave. 

- Britt screaming “be normal” to sander while knowing he is bipolar. Fuck you. 

- Britt slapping Sander in public and calling him an asshole not even considering that he might be having a manic episode of some sort or what’s going on. Nah mate. 

- To continue with what Britt said to Robbe, her reasoning and what she said does not even make sense. In all the other remakes it made sense because all the Evens had been dating the Sonjas for at least a year and for most several years. It would make sense that the Sonjas knew the Evens family well and that they were aware of how their MI impacted them and probably what to do. But for Britt? Yeah nah it’s been a couple of months and that’s it. 

- Britt also has humiliated or treated Sander like crap a couple of times, humiliating him in public, being controlling or overbearing its just-

- I feel like for the other Sonja Remakes, there was always an element of, but you could see that there was genuine love and kindness for their partner and you can see why they dated for so many years cuz they were genuinely good people and it could have been a good dynamic but like this seems like a toxic ass relationship. 

- To end with, how thick do you have to be to still call Sande your boyfriend? Like is that crack you smoke? Fam i just don’t get it, how far into denial are you??....

- Honestly I liked Lucille, well maybe’s not liked but I liked that they had a conclusion and she apologised to Lucas about how she acted and actually gave Lucas tips because she knows how to help Elliott and it made sense. With Britt, honestly don’t get how this would happen because she’s irredeemable. 

[gracieurrutia]

2016. . . .

- I met my second best friend IRL, from the moment I met him I knew somehow we were going to be great friends. Can’t believe I’ve known him for two years now. I’m grateful that God reconnected me with him. Surreal day, like I was meeting a celebrity or something lol. Atleast that’s how I feel.

-I had my first beer EVER! Only drank half of it though as much as I wanted to finish it with the pizza I had. Watching fireworks with my mom and brother sitting in an old vintage car. My brother drove it mostly all summer!!!

-I hung out with a guy who I had a crush on way back when I was like fourteen and he was like either seventeen or eighteen at the time Those feelings of him returned back till November 2015-April 2016. He asked me out on a date but to his house while his parents were gone for vacation. I said no, since I didn’t feel comfortable with the idea so we ended up chilling at a park eating Jersey Mike’s. I haven’t seen him since the summer since things headed a different direction apparently.

-I turned 22, didn't do much except went on a lovely breakfast with Britt. I was so glad to have a delicious mimosa with her. I’ve been friends with her since we were sixteen years old.

-Childhood friend graduated from WSU! I’m proud of you! :D. Ahhhh!! hopefully, I will see her sometime this year since its been AGES the last time I’ve seen her.

-I made a mistake thinking not much of it and I blame myself for it. I should’ve asked questions like I usually do, somehow this time around I decided to ignore it. My brother was right all along...”be friends first, people are crazy’. I started liking a guy.. got drawn into him being new to my town and felt bad from his motorcycle accident. Ofcourse, since I’m such a nice person and fell for this guy thinking I knew quite a bit in reality did not know. I don’t even want to explain where I even met him because technically it’s MY fault in a way. I continued seeing him thinking he was a good person when I had a feeling like “oh wait, something could be wrong.’‘. I cried to my best friend YESTERDAY since I was scared for my life. I gave up my first kiss even IF I didn’t have to who later than told he had HPV after we hung out in a text message....-__-