strode

Why the fuck have I seen no one online talking about what’s happening in indiana?

ME AND MY GIRLFRIEND CAN BE FORCED TO LEAVE A RESTAURANT FOR BEING THERE TOGETHER

HER COLLEGE CAN DENY TO TEACH HER

I CAN BE DENIED MEDICAL ATTENTION

BECAUSE I AM GAY.

I CAN LITERALLY BE DYING AND A DOCTOR CAN REFUSE TO TREAT ME BECAUSE I AM IN LOVE WITH ANOTHER WOMAN, UNDER THE FUCKING LAW. THEY ARE ALLOWED TO DENY US SERVICE.

FUCK MIKE PENCE. FUCK HIM AND THE GOD DAMN HORSE HE STRODE HIS TIGHT WHITE ASS INTO TOWN ON.

Because roderane said something that planted an idea in my head.

           When Roderick’s car had been sitting there for a very long time with the wipers on but no one coming out, Jane strode across the car park, never mind the rain, to tap onthe window. Retrospectively, it was probably the rain that had forced Roderick to unlock the doors- that tiny, protective part of him that thought the worst and worried she would get a cold or something.

           “I’m fine.” he said, before she could ask. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” he repeated, and Jane realised he was trying to convince himself far more than her, using it as a sort of mantra. He had a jar of stage foundation (where had he gotten that? He wouldn’t have stolen it, would he?) in one hand, and a makeup sponge in the other- he was trying to apply it to his face, but his hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t do it. He turned his face, just the slightest fraction, and Jane saw the black eye.

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