#and by no means do you deserve to be shamed for it

[forgot-my-line]

By actively making posts that put people down and make a public space feel unsafe, unwelcoming or not open/accepting of someone, you are doing the exact same things they are. If it's bad when they do it, it's bad when you do it. It's not a one-way street. You are being just as bad as they are.

I completely agree that we don't owe them Respect. They didn't show us any. I do, though, wholeheartedly believe that there isn't a single person ever who doesn't deserve basic human decency. That includes feeling safe in spaces that are open to literally any and everyone. And yea sure, most aren't helping, but what about the ones who are at least trying? what about the trump voters who are donating to trans health donation centers? or the trump voters who didn't get a say (for personal safety or other reasons) or were spoonfed misinformation, who are trying to right things now? Do they not count for something?

I'm also not saying we have to coddle anyone. I'm saying if we could stop making public spaces unsafe for some people, regardless if you like, love, hate or despise them, that would be just peachy. These spaces are where some people go to escape other oppressive forces, don't add to the list of people they have to avoid. Actually, in fact, don't coddle them. That won't help. What won't help either though, is isolating them. If we isolate people, we do the same thing as the people you are so against. You are being just as bad as they are.

Not every person who voted againt Harris is a bad person. I apoligize if this fact is upsetting to you. Some trump voters, as touched on ealier, weren't in a position where they could vote how they wanted to. I am well aware that this is a very hard subject to come to terms with. Not everyone has to see things like abuse or manipulation first hand but that doesn't mean it isn't a real thing that actively affects choices and decisions. Sometimes the only thing they could do to avoid voting for Trump, was to withhold from voting or vote third party. They didn't get a choice so why make them feel worse about it.

It's been made more than clear that these are the consequences of what happened at the election. Not only has it been spelt out for everone, their dead grandma, and their pet fish, but it's been spoonfed to each and every one of them. Repeating the same things over and over and over again only make people sick of listening to you. They'll see and hear how upset you and everyone are regardless

As for standing up for what's important to me, Unity has to be pretty high on my list. Sorry if my standing behind that ideal upsets you. Change isn't gonna happen if you stand alone, acting as if the entire world is against you. Rome wasn't built by a single person, just as it wasn't built in a single day. You need to have people in your corner.

As you said, Change doesn't magically happen. People work for each and every change that has happened, big or small. Shaming and tearing people down doesn't have to be a part of that work. I'm not saying shaming people won't get the results you so desperately want, I'm saying that there are much better ways of getting people to realize they are wrong and/or need to change than making public spaces an unsafe space to be and to make people feel worse about themselves than they already do.

It wasn't just this particular post that was the issue, but the fact that no matter how many political opinions and posts I ignored completely and scrolled past, posts like these still showed up on my dash. My passion is my compassion and ability to care for everyone. I'd much rather live in a world where every single living thing feels safe, at least in my presence, than getting into silly arguments with random strangers on Tumblr dot com. Responses like these are not only condescending, they actively miss the entire point I was making.

[autumnscribbles]

the one | drew starkey

part 2

pairing: drew starkey x married!reader

summary: after drew picked you up after your husband hurt you, it’s time to face him together

warnings: mentions of abuse, slight physical violence, not really proofread

wc: 1.9k

authors note: thank you guys so much for all the love on part 1!!! it truly means the world to me! it took me a while to think of where to take part 2, but i wanted it to be somewhat open ended so i hope you still like it!!

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The sun broke through the slight crack of the curtains, making you squint despite your eyes still being shut. Your eyes slightly opened, your mind instantly disoriented. You gasped as you quickly sat up, nervously taking in your surroundings. After a few seconds it came back to you. Derek. Last night. Drew.

The bed was vacant beside you. You remembered falling asleep with Drew last night, but you had no idea what he did after that. You smelled coffee wafting into the room, instantly craving it. You quickly threw the blankets to the side and found the kitchen, Drew’s clothes still on your body. His familiar scent comforted you and made you feel nostalgic for simpler days. Before Drew left to pursue acting, before you married Derek, before everything. You missed being carefree, riding your bike with Drew to go watch the sunset as you sipped on takeout milkshakes together. You missed when your biggest worry was what you would wear to school the next day, or what your weekend plans would be. You missed your life before all of this. Before you had to walk on eggshells around your husband, or spent every day trying to please him, or now thinking of him hurting you. You couldn’t even recognize yourself anymore.

“Morning,” Drew smiled over his shoulder. “Did you sleep okay?”

You nodded sleepily, rubbing your eye as you held back a yawn. He passed you a mug of steaming hot coffee, an attempt at latte art on the top making your lips curl up. Your eyes drifted to a blanket on the couch. Drew must have left the room once you fell asleep.

He knew you were vulnerable, and he didn’t want to take advantage of you. Didn’t want there to be any expectations or precedent for you sleeping in his bed. He didn’t want to use this as a way to insert himself in your life romantically. You needed space. Out of respect, he gently slipped out of the bed after you fell asleep, taking his place on the couch.

You sat on the couch with your coffee mug, tucking your feet under you. You let out a heavy sigh as the first sip warmed down your throat.

“Are you hungry?” Drew asked. “I can make you something.

You shook your head quickly. “I don’t think I can eat right now.”

Drew nodded solemnly, but told you that you couldn’t go the whole day without eating. At some point, he was going to make you something, no choice.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now,” you said, a lump forming in the back of your throat. “I don’t know how to face him after…”

Drew sat down beside you, leaving a comfortable space. He was treating you like you were fragile, and maybe you were. You appreciated how gentle he was being, even if the behavior usually would anger you. You never liked being treated differently, or like you were delicate.

“You can stay here as long as you need,” he told you. “And when you’re ready, I can go with you.”

“Maybe I’m just overreacting,” you sighed. “I probably deserved it, and he’s probably feeling guilty.”

“Stop,” Drew whispered, placing his hand gently on your shoulder. “You didn’t deserve that. No one deserves to be treated that way. I’m not saying this for my own benefit but you can’t go back to him.”

You nodded, knowing he was right. You always thought it would be easy to walk away in a situation like this, you didn’t realize all the nuance that came with it. Your own feelings of shame, of failure.

“We’re married,” you sighed, closing your eyes and tilting your head back. “It hasn’t even been that long and I’m already in a failed marriage.”

“You didn’t fail anything, y/n,” Drew said. “He failed you as a husband. You did everything right. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“I know,” you admitted, agreeing with him. You knew Drew was right, he always was. He was always the voice of reason, the little angel on your shoulder saying all the right things.

“I think I should go over there,” you uttered after a few moments of silence. “At least to get some of my stuff. I can’t just wear your clothes.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ ⋅•⋅⊰∙

Drew pulled up to your home, which suddenly had a cold aura around it. This wasn’t home anymore. It never would be again. You spotted Derek’s car in the driveway, meaning he was likely still home. You wondered if he went looking for you last night, if he called anyone to see where you were. Or did he just go to bed soundly, not even thinking of you?

Dread filled your body as you looked at your house from the passenger window. How were you supposed to face him?

“I don’t think I can go in there,” you mumbled, your voice laced with fear, shaking slightly. “Maybe we should come back when he’s not home.”

“Want me to go in?” he asked. “Just tell me what you need and I’ll grab it for you.”

“I don’t think it’s safe,” you replied. “He’s been giving me a hard time…about you lately. He’s going to get angry and think I cheated or something.”

Drew clenched his jaw, anger fuelling him. The audacity Derek had to be jealous of him when Derek was the one who manipulated everyone to get what he wanted. Drew had a bad taste in his mouth at the thought that they were ever friends. Now that Derek hurt you, there was no going back. No pretending.

“If he’s actually sorry, he won’t say a word,” Drew told you. “I’ll be fast, we’ll just get the essentials today and we can come back when he’s not here, like you said.”

You finally agreed, somewhat reluctantly. You didn’t want Drew to go in there alone, but you had to admit you needed some of your belongings. You needed clothes, stuff to take a shower, your phone back. You listed a few things off to Drew, explaining to him where he could find everything. He nodded quickly, telling you everything was going to be fine before he hopped out of the car, crossing the imaginary yellow tape onto your property.

Drew rapped his knuckles on the door, anxiously awaiting who would appear on the other side. The door opened to reveal Derek, looking disheveled. His hair was all over the place, a white tank top on with a stain on the front, his breath smelling like booze.

“Do you know where y/n is?” he asked frantically, not noticing you in the car on the street.

“I do,” Drew answered stoically. “I came here to pick up a few of her things.”

“What?” Derek’s voice had bite to it. “She sent her little puppy for her? Too much of a wimp to face me herself?”

Drew had told himself he would remain calm, but something broke inside him. Hearing Derek still speaking that way about you after what he had done. He couldn’t tolerate it. Drew grabbed him by his shirt and pushed him on the wall.

“You touch her again I’ll fucking kill you,” Drew sneered. “Don’t call her, don’t look for her, it’s done.”

“She can tell me that herself,” Derek chuckled. “You just think there’s hope for you. She’s my wife, Drew. I don’t care how whipped you are for her.”

“It’s not about me,” Drew said, shaking his head. “It’s not about me, or about how you lied to me our entire friendship, lied to her. You crossed a like, Derek. You were a piece of shit before but now…you’re just a monster.”

Drew could barely finish his sentence when he was blinded by the punch to his face. He groaned as he lifted his hand to his eye, his vision white and searing pain shooting through his face. Stay calm.

“Nice, Derek,” Drew nodded. “You gonna hit her like that next time? Real great man you are.”

“Don’t talk to me about my wife.”

They didn’t notice you at the door, letting yourself in. You had started to get anxious sitting in the car. You were worried about Drew. It was time to be brave, and to stand up for yourself. You gasped by the scene you were met with. Drew’s left eye was discolored, bright crimson leaking from his nostril.

“Derek,” you breathed. “What did you do?”

“Babe,” Derek smiled, rushing over to you, placing his hands on your shoulder. You noticed the blood stained on his knuckles. Drew’s blood. “I am so sorry, I didn’t mean anything I- can you just come home to me? We can figure this out.”

“You punched him,” was all you could manage to choke out.

“Seriously?” he scoffed. “I’m trying to fix things and you’re focused on him? Here we go again with your little boyfriend.”

“There’s nothing to fix, Derek,” you said sternly, removing his hands from your shoulders and taking a step back. “I’m grabbing some things, and I’m leaving. You’re never going to touch me again.”

“You’re leaving me for him, right? That’s what this is?” he asked. “You’re just looking for the easy way out. I knew you were cheating on me.”

Drew stepped in to defend you, but you raised your hand at him. You knew there was a high likelihood Derek would hit him again if he had the opportunity.

“This has nothing to do with me and Drew,” you said calmly. “I was loyal to you, and a great wife. This is all your own doing. You’ll never be even a fraction of the man Drew is.”

Venom dripped in your words. You knew comparing him to Drew would hurt him, and maybe that was the point. He was constantly in competition, trying to one-up Drew, or to get you to think negatively of your friend. You were tired. Derek’s face twisted in anger, but you walked away before he had the chance to retort. You rushed to your room, quickly shoving what you needed into a bag. You felt dizzy, unable to process any of the events that had unfolded. When you came back to the foyer, Drew was by the door. His hand on the doorknob, waiting for you.

“Let’s go, Drew,” you whispered. “Goodbye Derek, don’t contact me. You can talk to my lawyer.”

With that, you were out the door, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you sat back down in Drew’s car. He slid in the drivers seat, hissing slightly as he brought his hand up to his eye.

“I can’t believe he hit you,” you muttered, tears filling your eyes, but not quite falling. Just teetering on the edge. “I shouldn’t have let you go in there.”

“It was worth it,” he said, giving you a weak smile. “I’d take the hit a thousand times over if it meant he’d never hurt you again.”

The tears spilled over, but you couldn’t help but smile anyway. “My hero.”

The tension in the car was heavy. You were unstable, feeling so many things at once. When you leaned in towards Drew, he placed a hand on your thigh, his blue eyes boring into yours.

“Take your time,” he whispered, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “You’ve been through so much. I wouldn’t feel right taking advantage of this situation after everything you’ve been through.”

“As much as I want to. I’ve been thinking about kissing you for most of my life it feels like,” he continued, letting out an airy chuckle. “But I’m not going anywhere. So take your time.”

More tears spilled down your cheeks. Drew’s slightly calloused thumb brushed them away. He leaned forward, his warm lips connecting with your forehead. The warmth lingered as he pulled away, making you shiver.

“Let’s go home.”

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taglist: @percysley

[rottenpumpkin13]

How do AGSZC "discreetly" listen to two strangers gossiping in public about their private lives? (Yes the gossip has likely nothing to do with them but it's too good not to listen to it)

Sephiroth: He doesn't even know what "discreet" means in this context. He listens in total silence, standing unnervingly still, but unintentionally narrates his reactions out loud in his usual monotone. "Fascinating." "Despicable." "Hm, intriguing." Occasionally he throws in a barely audible gasp. If the gossipers notice and glance his way, he just stares back, deadpan, and then walks away.

Angeal: Claims he's above gossip. "It's rude to intrude on others' private lives." But the second he overhears anything juicy, he pauses mid-step, pretending to stretch or admire the scenery as he strains his ears to hear everything. And then he'll burst into whatever room Genesis and Sephiroth are in, throwing open the door: "YOU GUYS WILL NOT BELIEVE WHAT I JUST HEARD—"

Zack: Social butterfly, doesn't believe in not getting involved. He casually slides into the conversation like it's natural, "Hey, I couldn't help but hear you talking about your cheating husband, and I wanna let you know that you deserve better. Also, have you considered breaking his knees—" By the end of the interaction, he's exchanged numbers and has offered to help mediate their drama.

Cloud: Starts off trying so hard not to listen. He shifts uncomfortably, folds his arms, looks anywhere but toward the gossipers. But then his curiosity wins. He strategically positions himself near a potted plant, accidentally knocks something over in his eagerness to hear more, then panics and runs away when he gets caught.

Genesis: He's nosy and doesn't have a modicum of shame. He looks like this:

[beautifullilacsky]

I have been feeling weird these days. Frankly, just not great. Pretty bad. I have been belittling myself, trying to hide and disappear. What has helped me? Going for a walk by myself. Listening to an audiobook and realizing there are things that I enjoy doing and that make the time pass. Belasting music through my earplugs while in the bathroom, and looking in the mirror as I start to move my body and dance. Write with myself; so pure and vulnerable. So understanding and loving towards myself. I felt like myself again. I reflected on a drawing, where I added a text. I realized that I was, or am, trapped. I try to disappear, trying to hide from everyone. Hoping to protect myself from dissapointing people and being too much. From them leaving, or realizing they no longer love me. Then I went on to mention how lonely it is here, isolating me and who I am, while there is someone out there who does love me for me. It then turned into wondering why I am here. And why these leaves, in which I tried to disappear, are so heavy. I realize that I am no longer wanting to hide. Rather, I am trapped. Trapped into my own hideaway. Where the leaves are no longer lovingly embracing me, they are cutting into my skin. Reflecting helped me realize it, and realize I want to get out. And I have the power to do so.

Frankly, I want to be like in the gif every single day. I also honestly know that I could. I can find casual magic in everything. I can be so passionate about life and everything it has to offer. That feels like the true me. The one who experiences it all, and is grateful for it. Sure, the other parts of me are also me. But I feel my best when I am I that mood. The mood from the gif. My boyfriend is out right now, volleyballing until the very early hours. His roommate is also not home. It is just me, and gash. I am excited. I have already listened to music and danced, but I also ate too much and feel very full right now. Either way.. it is scary to be so me. To be so vulnerable and truly myself in front of someone. I know I can do it. I acted this way during our vacation. Why is it so hard to just be myself? To trust someone enough to be my true self? It's a safe space, babygirl. Sure, sometimes it hurts in this place. But don't you dare pull back because of it. I mean, to be fair, how could anyone ever do anything but smile when they see someone living life like that? What do I expect? The worst that could happen is that someone finds it interesting how you can enjoy and aren't ashamed in public. BUTO BE FAIR EH? WHHHHHYY IS IT SOMETHING TO BE ASHAMED OF? I fucking LOVE people who enjoy like that. I wish I could be surrounded by them. So baby, if the people around you aren't like that, okay and??? Be like that for yourself. He doesn't show his emotions the way you do? Okay and??? Let him experience his emotions the way he wants to. He can honestly count himself blessed to be with a person who can enjoy life so fully. Please, love this part of yourself. Well, you already do. But do it without shame. Do it proudly. Embrace it, truly. You have been taking everything for granted. It's time to be grateful, and be so without any doubt. Please, enjoy life the way you were meant to. Learn to be yourself, the way you are yourself when you are alone. He might not vibe on the same level, but that doesn't mean you should dim your own light. Yoyoyo, please learn to be yourself. Your silly, cute, life-enjoying self. I love the way you are , babygirl. So will he. And if he doesn't, that's big time his loss. Though, I'm pretty sure he loves this part of you, too. I know you love this part of you, so show off that you love her. She is yours. Show your love off by letting her out, the way you'd want someone to love this part of you. She deserves to come out and enjoy life with you. Whoever else is around. She feels safe with you. Please let her feel safe around him, too. He'd embrace her the way she wants to be embraced. Just like on our vacation. That you can still come out during the daily life without any judgement, you know?

[wrathofrats]

Seeing Blind (you’re too good to be all mine)

Chapter 5. Mature, 2.4k. Read under cut or on Ao3

(Part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

As always thank you to @divine-misfortune for writing this with me <3

Rain whipped around. Confused to see Dew running up to him from the side field, brushing debris off of his overalls. They had never spoken before, at least not directly like this. Small quips and comments when he finds himself at Swiss’ side that sound like they’re meant to be digs directed at him despite the fact Dew barely acknowledged his presence.

“I’m sorry?”

“I think we should have a talk“

It’s Rain’s turn to barely sleep in Swiss’ arms. His head swimming with a tirade of thought. Was he not good enough? Did he do something wrong? Go too fast? Maybe Swiss just didn’t want him in the same way he did?

He could feel how hard he was against his back for a good portion of the night. Rationally, most of that couldn’t possibly be true. Why would Swiss assume he wasn’t ready for it? None of it made sense and it left a strange, conflicted feeling in him. Not quite dejected but certainly confused.

At least he could finally sleep comfortably beside him, in a bed, like real people who like each other do.

When the sun threatens to crest the horizon, Swiss is shifting behind him. Moving carefully. Thoughtfully trying not to jostle Rain awake, no reason for him to have to adhere to the ungodly early schedule Swiss kept. It’s a hopeless effort but it was the thought that counted. Rain stirred as the arm beneath his head began to retreat, making a soft sound he could only describe as a chirp. His eyes fight to open, drooping despite himself, as Swiss slipped from the cozy little cocoon they’d made.

“Shh tadpole…Go back to sleep”

Cute. Rain looked beyond adorable and Swiss suddenly understood the meaning of ‘cuteness aggression’. The messy hair and blush coloring his cheeks the loveliest shade of pink was entirely unfair, but the way he managed to bat those pretty eyelashes was playing dirty.

“Just’a couple more minutes Swiss, ‘lease” Rain mumbled his way right into a yawn, tugging at Swiss’ shirt like he might just drag him back into bed like this.

“I’ve gotta go, I can’t be late. But come see me on my break, ‘kay?”

Swiss smoothed the hair from his forehead, dipping down to kiss the little crease between his brows before Rain’s head dropped back to the pillow with a small whine that he gives up on committing to when the comforters pulled back over him. Hard not to snuggle back in, harder not to bury his face in the other pillow to inhale the comfortable lingering scent like he might just pretend Swiss was still beside him.

Didn’t stop him from pouting though.

Leaving Rain was a real test of his will but dutifully Swiss dragged himself away. It was safer for him to duck out as early as this, less of a chance of being caught by the wrong person. He woefully stuffed his feet back into his muddy boots abandoned by the front door and trudged outside towards his truck.

He prayed it was too early for anyone else to be lurking about, and if it had to be anyone, let it be Mountain.

But God had a sense of humor, apparently.

Dew and cirrus were waiting for him with wolfish grins near the tractor, immediately trying to prod him for answers.

"Well well well, smooth talked your way right into his bed huh?" Dew laughed

"Didn't take him for easy.” Cirrus folds her arms looking over his sorry, disheveled state.

"So how was he? Did he even know what he was doing? Was it embarrassingly bad? That why you're doing the walk of shame before the suns even up?" Dew gasped at the promise of scandal, hanging off of Cirrus’ arm with a smirk like he was pleased with himself.

Swiss couldn’t tell if he wanted them to die or if he'd like a stampede of cattle to take him out then and there. Honestly, didn't know if they even deserved a response. Probably shouldn’t. All their senseless prodding, he shouldn’t dignify it but God Dew was too fucking annoying to ignore at times.

“We didn’t do anything” Swiss pushed past them to make the hike back to his truck so he could at least change. Boss might give him weird looks for showing up in yesterday's wrinkled clothes.

“Oh, sure. Totally. So, tell me, he invites you in and you spend the night doing what exactly? A kiss on the cheek before turning off the lights at nine on the dot so you can sleep on opposite sides of the bed with both hands above the covers?” Dew questions incredulously, with an oddly specific example. “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever fucking met, Swiss!”

Swiss winced at the volume of his voice, nervously eyeing the farmhouse standing silently as he gestured aggressively for him to shut the fuck up. Rain would be mortified if he knew the others were talking about him in this fashion.

“Love that Swiss thinks he can lie his way out of shit like this, as if you of all people don’t know what he looks like after a long night.” Cirrus snickers behind her hand and Dew suddenly looks appalled.

“Oh my fucking god it was one time!”

“It was a couple times actually-“

Like a thief in the night, Swiss uses their endless bickering as an excuse to slip away from their interrogation. He climbed into the backseat of his truck and rummaged under the passenger seat - working a job like this, he learned early on to keep a change of clothes on hand. It was awkward to say the least. He was not a dainty man and the back of his truck was far from spacious but he managed to climb out only having smashed his elbow into the window twice. Seemingly just in time. The crunch of gravel and the sharp squeaks of a poor suspension announced their arrival before the truck branded with an all too familiar logo rounded the bend.

His head snapped around alarmingly fast, met with mischievous grins from the both of them. He bristled. “Not a fucking word or I’m telling him to drug test you two.” Swiss hissed, both warning and threatening. Dew made a face, opening his mouth to retort but Cirrus was faster. Sticking out her tongue in his direction before grabbing him by the arm and leading him away to where they would pretend to work for the next two hours.

As they left him standing beside his truck, Swiss watched Rain’s father get out of the truck with clearly stiffened limbs. His throat felt tight as he looked his way, fearing that just maybe he knew but the man just regarded him with a curt nod and a gruff good morning, then headed inside.

Swiss wanted to close his head in the door of his truck, multiple times.

It was going to be a long fucking day.

Rain slipped out the back door an hour or so after lunch. Wearing exhaustion and semi untamed curls, a brand of disheveled he’d never sported before. He was off the schedule they’d taken to over the last few weeks. Swiss’ lunch break was a little before two, and it was currently well past. Swiss could sigh and huff all he liked about him sleeping in and shirking his fruit picking responsibilities, as well as what he’d woefully described as ‘kiss withdrawls’, but Rain truly couldn’t be faulted for sleeping in. His sheets smelled like warm tobacco and aftershave, a little bit like hay and whatever it was truly encompassed Swiss. It was hard for rain to leave in the morning, silently hoping it would linger until he got back that night.

“Rain! I’ve been looking for you!”

Rain whipped around. Confused to see Dew running up to him from the side field, brushing debris off of his overalls. They had never spoken before, at least not directly like this. Small quips and comments when he finds himself at Swiss’ side that sound like they’re meant to be digs directed at him despite the fact Dew barely acknowledged his presence.

“I’m sorry?”

“I think we should have a talk, can you come here for a minute?” Dew kicked some rocks and pursed his lips at rain who looked more than confused. He looked around for Swiss, to see if this was one of his shenanigans or could at least save him from whatever was happening.

Dew knew their routine. Knew exactly how to intersect Rain’s path before he could go attach himself to Swiss like an overgrown leech. It was almost too easy for him to find and stop him. If Rain had any more confidence in himself he would’ve told Dew to leave him alone, return the same disdain Dew had regarded him with from the start, but he was alarmingly forward. Grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him with surprising ease towards the tractor for a bit more privacy. Less of a chance they’d be interrupted.

Dew, and the other workers by extension were far from fond of him. Swiss was the outlier. Rain knew fighting him on this would cause nothing but trouble.

“Where are you going by the way? Thought you didn’t have to do your small share of work till later.” Whatever over sweetness he’d greeted him with dropped from his tone, borderline sneering at him instead.

“Dad asked me to check on one of the cows, said she looked in bad shape this morning.” Rain readjusted the bag on his shoulder, eyes flitting towards the field with a silent prayer that Swiss might just happen to pop up. Save him from whatever he’d walked into.

“Bullshit,” Dew barely stopped himself from laughing at his lie. “He would’ve mentioned it to us, not you.” Dew crossed his arms, leaning on the tractor. Casually and subtly blocking off Rain’s easy exit back to the yard.

“Ok…Then what do you think I’m doing?” Rain scoffed and rolled his eyes. This was dumb, they both had better things to be doing.

“Considering that brown paper sack in your hands, and the little birdie that talks about you in the barn, I’d say you’re bringing Swiss a snack for his break” it’s the slight flick of his eyes that answers the silent accusation.

“I don’t see how what I do with my time is any of your business” Rain's voice was almost entirely confident, almost. The faintest waver under his incredulous stare. It was hard to hold steady when someone as intense as Dew was interrogating him like he was caught about to do something downright sinister.

“Well I just think it’s funny how much time you spend with him. All of your breaks, sneaking out to go to the bonfire, spending the night?” He practically hissed his last point. “Thought your dad didn’t like you spending too much time with people like us. Weird, huh?”

“I’m not like that, I’m not my father.” Rain felt almost guilty as dew continued to stare at him like he was disgusted. Had he really been that bad? He didn’t think he was that much of a priss before Swiss came around.

“Oh you aren’t? Rain, all you do is sit on your throne and occasionally feed the animals or pick fruit for daddy’s approval. I’ve heard what he’s said, what you’ve said.”

His face, with whatever increasingly anxious expression he’d been sporting, fell instantly. Comments from his father over the years rooted in overworked frustration when profits didn’t balance out costs, when equipment turned up broken, when the work wasn't done to his standards. Blindly throwing blame on his workers. And Rain, a teenager vying for his parent’s approval, stupidly echoed the sentiment more than once and turned his nose up at them and the work they did. Even went out of his way to avoid the lot of them at the behest of his father.

“Dew, I’m sorry…I never-“

“All I’m saying is don’t fuck around and break Swiss’ heart just because you’ve decided to enjoy the attention from the peasants” Dew spat. His tone growing increasingly more frustrated as the months or years of indignation began to finally bubble to the surface.

“That’s not-“ A finger is held up before he can begin to explain himself, effectively shutting him up before he could stammer any further.

“Save it princess, I don’t want to hear it! I’m warning you to stop fucking around with him - Swiss doesn’t deserve to be some passing fancy till you’re able to go back to that prestigious university of yours.”

Rain opened his mouth and quickly closed it when he couldn’t manage any sound. Dread filled his stomach and began clawing its way up his throat. Choking him.

Is that really what they all thought of him? Is that what Swiss thought all of this was?

“You’re a smart guy, yeah? You should be smart enough to know not to cross this clear line in the sand that you and your dad drew a long time ago. Go back to your fucking tower and stay there.”

And as quickly as his tirade began, it ended with Dew turning on his heel and storming off with his fists clenched at his sides. He’d said more than enough for Rain to get the message; none of them wanted anything to do with him, Swiss just didn’t know it yet. They all harbored a level of resentment Rain hadn’t quite comprehended apparently.

Rain didn’t walk after him. Stays rooted in place watching Dew stalk off towards the fields until the vague shape of him becomes blurry. Tears burned in his eyes. All he could do was shrink into himself and return to the house where he promptly shoved the paper bag to the bottom of the trash can. At least there, he could pretend he’d never made it to begin with.

Was he stupid? He felt like an idiot for ever thinking he could really have something as genuine as this.

Heat radiated within his chest and made itself known in the form of blotchy redness in his cheeks. He retreated to his room, bag dropped steps in front of his door in order to throw himself onto his bed like a teenage girl with a broken heart. They weren’t anything and yet it felt like his rib cage was caving in. Guilt, shame, and humiliation danced inside him. Mingled into a single sensation that made his throat painfully tight.

Rain hiccuped over a half sob, shoving both pillows off the bed and onto the floor. He didn’t need the reminder. With both pillows out of the way, he was met with the cotton candy blue shark he’d stuffed into hiding the night before. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and pulled the plush against himself. Childish comforts.

Dew was right, telling him the things he was too selfish to acknowledge. None of them wanted him around, and maybe Swiss didn’t really either. Did Swiss only humor him because he was the boss’ son? Placate ‘the princess’ to keep his job. Dew was right. He didn’t deserve Swiss.

[olexiss-s]

A short attempt to follow up on Solas and Lavellan in the Fade after the events of DAV. Spoilers ahead.

"A reprise"

Miriel opens her eyes as Fade materializes before her. The air feels strange—heavy, gray, with a faint buzzing all around her. It takes her a few seconds to adjust. She’s been here physically before, trapped by the Nightmare. Yet this is no creation of any demon, she hears no voice but her own racing thoughts. Her eyes scan the surroundings, but she is searching for Solas.

He stands a few steps ahead of her, bent over, his hands clasped tightly around himself. She takes a cautious step toward him, placing her hand gently on his back.

"Solas…"

He straightens slowly, taking a moment before turning to meet her gaze. The pain in his expression tightens Miriel's throat. She exhales.

"... I still mean what I said to you in Skyhold," she murmurs. "Next time you have to mourn, you don’t have to do it alone."

His eyes darken with deeper sadness, but a faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips. 

"You don’t deserve to be trapped here with me, vhenan," he replies softly. "This is my grief to bear."

"Where is here, exactly?" She has no intention to explain herself further. 

"A prison," he says, his voice trembling, "fortified by regrets."

"Regrets of those trapped?"

"... Yes." His voice wavers, raw.

"We’ll find a way out," she reassures him. "But first, let me see your wounds."

She takes his hand and leads him to a large stone nearby. They sit, and she reaches for the satchel attached to her belt. Tilting his face gently toward her, she begins cleaning his injuries with a cloth and some alcohol. His eyes avoid hers, carrying the weight of countless unspoken truths.

"The people I failed... The Veil..." he whispers, his voice breaking.

"It is not enough to be right, my heart," she interrupts, her tone heavy with compassion. "The consequences..."

"Felaasan..." The name escapes his lips with reverence. He is on the verge of tears. She has never seen him like this before.

Her thoughts drift to a moment during their time in the Inquisition, after the first execution carried out in her name. She had come to him trembling searching for a familiar face, her shame and guilt pouring out as tears on his shoulder. That night, his calm voice had been her anchor, soothing her soul with stories of forgotten heros plagued with similar dilemmas.

Now, she takes his face in her hands, her fingers brushs softly against his cheek. She kisses him deeply. There is so much to say—questions flooding her mind, anger still lingering from years past. But they can wait. In this moment, the only thing that matters is them together at last.

She recalls those who mocked her for believing in his heart. She had felt it too, doubt gnawing at her so intensely as his words twisted her guts in knots. But her stubbornness was only outmatched by his own. His broken resolve now, however, is a sight to be seen.

She has never seen him as a god. Yet the legends—the ones spoken in hushed whispers around the clan’s campfire—uttered his name like a curse. When she returned broken and bruised from the war, painted as the prophet of a foreign god, her bare face—an insult to her blood. Her keeper, uneasy and bitter as she muttered the name "Fen’Harel" in her sleep. As if the betrayer of kin was her only guardian.

She should be angry. She should offer no understanding to the one who had shattered the world, unearthed her roots, and burned her faith. Who had emptied every temple, leaving only frescoes of lies. Yet as she looks at his face now, his immortal pain reverberates through her. It is what kept her searching, following each trail he purposely left for her.

For a few moments, they remain grounded through this touch, among the ghosts surrounding them. 

"Tell me about Mythal," she asks, her voice on the verge of care and sharpness. Perhaps she aims to understand. Perhaps to grab the hilt of the dagger at his side, uncertain whether to pull it out—or twist it.

"You said she was the best of them," she continues. "Yet she used you. Changed you from who you were. Your wisdom... aimed to kill, to claim what was never yours..."

"I followed her like a lost pup," he admits, his voice tinged with both bitterness and despair. "She made me who I am. But I carried out her plans of my own will."

"The Exalted Plains. Your spirit friend... Wisdom turned to Pride," she reminds him.

"Now I know," he whispers, his voice raw with emotion, "death was much kinder fate then what she would have become..." His voice breaks again. "...and for all those who would stand in her way." he adds.

Eyes heavy with regret almost fade to grey.

[gothamite-rambler]

"Not those photos!"

Context: Bruce Wayne and Barbara Gordon were busy discussing Barbara's pay raise in Bruce's kitchen. Why? Because Babs has earned and deserves more money!

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room, mingling with the faint scent of pastries from the bakery down the street. Barbara rested her arms on the kitchen table her expression a mix of frustration and determination as she detailed her why after working for the man for decades she needed more money. She did work a job outside of hero work, but dang a girl needs extra disposable income.

Bruce, pouring himself a cup, listened thoughtfully, occasionally nodding in acknowledgment but aware that this conversation was more about establishing boundaries than just salary figures. In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but admire her resilience, knowing that her contributions were invaluable—yet the negotiation price was a bit steep even for him.

Barbara (determined): I'm telling you, I should be making 80k annually for all the work I do—both as Oracle and your second assistant. Dick should not be making more than me!

Bruce (reasoning): He's my son. I pay all my kids well—even Damian. But not Tim.

Barbara (raising an eyebrow, smirking): Of course you’ll help the men over—

Bruce (shutting that down): Don't do that. I pay Cass the same amount as Jason.

Barbara (incredulous): Since when?!

Bruce (nonchalantly): Last year. She earned it. Babs, while I agree you deserve a pay raise, twenty thousand a month is pushing it. What would you even need that much money for?

Barbara (enthusiastically): Fun stuff! I like to live. I mean, obviously, I’m a smart woman; not all of it will be wasted every month. But sometimes, I pass by a store and see those new heels. Dang it, wheelchair-bound or not, my feet need to be wearing cute pinchy shoes! What does Dick need ten thousand for?

Bruce (rolling his eyes): Apparently, he uses it to 'keep the lights' on at the tower, treat his friends to dinner, pay for dance classes, sonic and spongebob merch... I hate those shows so much and… trips with Kori that I don’t like to think about.

Barbara (raising her voice to get her point across): Mostly frivolous garbage. Why can't I get frivolous garbage spending money?! Women want stupid things too!

Barbara pounded her fist on the table for emphasis, while Bruce sighed and closed his eyes, clearly exhausted.

Bruce (pausing, thinking): Okay, fair enough I will agree that people like to buy dumb stuff, but I... give me a second to think of a reason. It slipped my mind for a second.

Barbara (sly smile): All right, if you don’t consider paying me ten thousand a month—this way, me and your son get the same amount— I will upload the photos of you from the Christmas photoshoot in '97.

Bruce's eyes widened, his usual stoic expression changing to one of rising panic.

Bruce (panic-stricken): Don't do that! I won’t be able to live it down.

Barbara crossed her arms with a defiant smile.

Barbara (clapping for emphasis at the start of talking): Either ten thousand, or all of Gotham will have another reason to send you dirty, thirst tweets and messages.

Bruce (desperate): You wouldn’t? There’s no way you still have those photos.

Barbara (playfully): I have them saved in a custom folder for blackmail in situations like this. It would be such a shame if Gotham citizens saw you posing like you did. Tick tock, detective.

Bruce sighed, defeated, covering his blushing face. After a moment of silent reflection, he meekly spoke.

Bruce (reluctantly): Ten thousand it is. I’ll get the paperwork ready tomorrow.

Barbara (satisfied): Glad we came to an agreement.

Bruce (sighing): Yeah, whatever. Are we done?

Barbara (nods): Mm-hm.

Bruce (playfully): Good, and don’t talk like Jason!

Barbara (mocking tone): It's a catchy phrase, Master Detective.

Bruce groaned, but after a moment, a small smile formed on his lips, appreciating the friendship he still shared with Barbara.

Bruce (genuinely): I do have to admit, I've always admired your intellect. It's close to mine—almost.

Barbara (rolling past him in her wheelchair): Just without the intense trauma. Mine is regular trauma.

Bruce (defensively): Hey, it builds character.

Barbara (light-hearted): Whatever you have to say to give yourself reassurance, buddy.

[chromunist]

Long POSITIVE rant/analysis about Veilgards plot regarding Solas for me and anyone else bummed out by everyone saying the writing is bad!

SPOILERS

All that I wanted going into this game was to get to know solas as the dread wolf and get my big solavellan moment. The game delivered. This game is very much, by design, the dread wolf’s where inquisition is solas’. In inquisition he is hiding and allowed to be himself as a result, by the end of it you don't change his mind, but you make it so he no longer wants to tear down the veil, not on a personal level. Solas is sensitive, kind and wise. The dread wolf is cut throat, pragmatic and prideful. To save him you need to tap into the person from inquisition, not the god from veilgard.

The thing about solas’ mission is that on a pragmatic level he is right. Rip off the bandaid of these short mortal lives and generate a utopia of immortals. That's why pragmatism doesn’t save him. He needs to accept that on an emotional level, as a person, he doesn’t want to destroy this world, he doesn’t want to fight anymore, and he can never truly make his sacrifices mean something, he can never make any of it worth it because it will never feel worth it to him. He needs to choose to stop as a person not a god of rebellion or spirit of wisdom. Because no matter how much he didnt want to be a god, he acted like one and he can never be at peace while doing so. And no matter how much he wishes he was still a spirit, he’s not. Veilgard at the end of the day was about accepting that you will make choices you will regret, there will be uncomfortable consequences to your actions and there won't always be meaning in those consequences. You can choose to punish yourself forever (solas) or accept the uncomfortable truth that you can't punish yourself into peace and forgive yourself (rook).

The reason why one of you companions must die is so that you cannot be placed above solas. This is also why you must pick minrathous or treviso. You must walk a path like his, fight the war he fought and make the sacrifices he made. You cannot defeat solas or change him on the pretense of being better than him, of not being willing to make sacrifices like him, You MUST make sacrifices, You must put people who follow you into situations where you know they might die and when, not if, they do, you must live with the regret that comes with it.

Solas knew that eventually someone would die under your command and he waited for that moment because you would be faced with the same kind of regret as him and then you would be able to take his place. You don't get to act like you are better than him because you never abandoned anyone, you don't get to act like you are better than him because you never ordered someone to their likely demise. Because you did. You cant get solas to stop by making the claim that he is wrong and you are right, because he isn't. You’re the same. Rook is a foil to solas

The dinanshiral for him is continuing to walk the path that only makes him hate himself more. that he doesn’t feel good about or want to do. He wants to stop but he can no longer see the line between his pride and wisdom. He wants to keep walking it because he can't let go of the fight and accept that this is what all his sacrifices will amount to. He knows he will only hate himself more at the end of the journey but he thinks he deserves to feel all that guilt and shame if it means bringing about the utopia he imagines. He sees the regret and pain of making this ideal world as a burden only he can bear and therefore has a responsibility to take on. He fails if he doesn’t he is selfish if he doesn’t because the sacrifices hes made and the elves of now (in his eyes deluded by idealism) deserve the world he is trying to create

It’s not that solas can't accept he did bad things. He’s great at that actually. He can't accept that he did bad things and those things might never matter. He took risks and lost and there is no reward that can make him feel like it was worth it, but he's trying to make it feel worth it by continuing his plans. He cant accept that he acted like a god, created this deeply flawed world, and cant fix it. He sees himself as the only one who can save his people and cant accept the reality that he failed at preserving one thing he always wanted to preserve. After millennia of fighting and sacrificing for it, how does he just stop? Just because he wants to? That’s selfish. He can take the pain, he deserves it even. So why not keep going? He has to do it, someone else might get it wrong (haha).

Rook is freed because they listen to the people who love them, accept forgiveness from those they hurt, and the reality of their guilt. But choose not to hate themselves anyways.

You show him it's okay to stop. He's not failing. You make him accept his pain and his mistake. You mythal and the inquisitor give him the permission to end, to be forgiven so he can finally give himself the release from that ancient duty. The acceptance of the grim reality he wrought as real and permanent and he doesn’t need to honor those sacrifices because doing so will still never change the reality of how they make him feel. He finally gets to live as a hurt and flawed man, not a savior with the weight of the world on his shoulders. I think thats a beautiful and perfect ending for him, and the whole plot of veilgard is to build rook up into this dichotomy with him.

Solas pretty much says he made you into him, but he didn’t anticipate you’d be able to forgive yourself. Because forgiveness is something he cant imagine granting himself until the end, when he is met with genuine compassion and understanding by those he hurt.

[icannotgetoverbirds]

Share to save a dandruff-haver's sanity

i am making this post because all my life i have been told my dandruff was my fault for not washing my hair correctly and shamed for having "poor hygiene" as a result - this is probably where the bfrbs started tbh.

SO. There are two main types of dandruff!

Dry scalp flakes: these are white and itty bitty! you can probably solve this with a good hair and skincare routine. HOWEVER unless they are bothering you it is absolutely not necessary for any kind of health reason (afaik! disclaimer! i am not a doctor! this is not actionable medical advice nor should you take me anywhere near as seriously as a dermatologist). IS NOT CAUSED BY POOR HYGIENE.

Fungal dandruff: Bigger, yellowish, possibly oily/greasy flakes! Caused by your genetics going Oops All Yeast! Generally requires a prescription antifungal treatment from a dermatologist! ALSO NOT CAUSED BY POOR HYGIENE.

Either way, if you have dandruff, a dermatologist is the one you want to consult if it's bothering you! and frankly, even if it was a hygiene issue, nobody deserves to be shamed for that!!!!! especially considering that there are plenty of people who struggle to shower regularly due to circumstances beyond their control!

AND FOR CHRIST'S SAKE STOP SHAMING PEOPLE WITH DANDRUFF!!!!

[potato-lord-but-not]

Your most recent post I just made me think about John (because I’m always thinking about John) and if having his wrists pinned would freak him out. Like, the level of trust he would have to build with Oscar to give up what little control he does have, give up that little piece of autonomy he clings too. Idk your art makes me crazy and then I get thinking and here we are—

no you’re so right my god. I need to draw more of these three navigating being intimate because it makes me go INSANE. I need more John being reluctant to trust Oscar and Oscar being patient with him because he’s probably a little bit scared of him but also he knows what it’s like to be ignored and to lose some of your autonomy (I mean he’s coming from the religious trauma stand point but still you get me) NOW YOUVE GOT ME RAMBLING DAMN IT I need to draw them so bad

[ahollowgrave]

hey come here

reblog your own work. reblog it as much as you want. the dashboard is chronological (mostly) so you gotta put it back out there!! ok bye

[bluiela]

Is feysand out of elain week because what Rhysand did utm was sexual abuse and feyre burning the LOA was also abuse,

Rhys drugging and making feyre do stuff triggers people so it would be safe to ban Rhys to create a safe environment for fans

Elain tells everyone that she is no child to be faught over

Yet when Azriel goes against her wishes and tells Rhys he would fight elain in a blood duel it triggers because yet again a man going against the wishes of a women

Banning Azriel would also create a safe space for those who gets triggered by this (me included)

[vampire-nyx]

Controversial idea but I think the idea of “the skinny girl who calls herself fat for eating food is terrified of becoming fat and therefore deserving of ridicule” is wrong and shitty and harmful and typically based on the speakers own hatred of their body and insecurity

[meirimerens]

got the tldr of the vid that I'm Not Watching All That & somewhat amusing how the straw breaking the camel's back for people over James Somerton is his blatant and unashamed plagiarism (as it should be genuinely i don't think you can nor should recover from this) like he hasn't regurgitated for years vile, unempathetic, ahistorical and Purely Just Wrong information about gay history including about the fight for legal same-sex marriage in the US and the AIDS crisis. like an alarming amount of people truly heard his ass say "all the good fun funky artistic and radical gays died of aids and all those who were left were unfun stuck-up prudes and conservatives also the fight for legal same-sex marriage was an assimilationist ploy by the latter who just wanted big gay weddings" as if the gay men who survived the epidemic didn't literally lose lovers and friends and entire communities and long-term partners who they shared a life with and who were denied any crumb of this previous life at their death because there was no legal recognition for same-sex cohabitation and unions and their homophobic family could tear everything from the surviving partner thanks to this lack of recognition and let it slide.

some people out there were truly so eager to shit on the boring assimilationist prude gays who survived aids by being stuck-up prudes and who just wanted "big gay weddings" they made up in their minds to get mad at that they turned their brains off and let it slide. they could've used their smoothed-out brains for ONE minute & found out that surviving took 1) plain boring luck and 2) radical, loud, proud gay activists campaigning for safe/safer sex and the information campaigns they led, as well as the protests and demonstrations they undertook to make the government fucking care for once. and that legally-recognized unions [be they civil or religious] were a matter of survival for the partner left behind. some people out there truly let a business major with a turtleneck (possibly the definition of boring) passing himself off as cool and radical and an intellectual tell them homophobic bullshit. and did not blink. like OF COURSE this guy's gonna be a plagiarist. he needs to get his information from SOMEWHERE. because when he tries to formulate his own stuff it's complete fabrications or the frankensteining of multiple sources that he manages to misunderstand/misrepresent threefold over. trying to fit a knit sock over the foot with the inside out and wonder why that itches.

i know many people in his audience are likely very young and also likely american and as such did most of their growing up in a world where their country (1 out of 195. give or take.) had legalized gay marriage but i cannot even begin to describe 1) how Young legalized gay wedding is, even in ""the west"" and 2) how many. other countries there are. my country legalized same-sex marriage before the US did. i am not even 25 and i still remember the hordes of catholics marching down the streets chanting homophobic slogans, implying the only reason two mommies or two daddies would want to raise a child together is for nefarious, vile purposes. i still remember families having to drag their asses into court to argue that, yes, a woman who raised a child for its whole life with another woman she's in a long-term committed cohabitated relationship with should have the right to be considered a direct guardian even if she's not biologically related to the child, and spending thousands of bucks having to argue their case in court. this might be shocking to some, but there are countries where homosexuality is punishable by death. in others, not by death, but by imprisonment. in others, not by imprisonment, but by ""medical intervention"". in others, not by ""medical intervention" but by fines. and in some others still, you can be gay (yay!) but you still cannot get married or civil-unioned, and the very same shit that was discussed in the 80s is still discussed now. the right to stay a guardian of your partner's child if your partner dies or is ill, so the kid does not go into foster care. the right to inherit your partner's property according to married rights instead of having through long annoying time- and money-consuming legal processes. the right to arrange your partner's funeral or have a say in their medical choices if they're incapacitated instead of their (potentially homophobic) families.

like We Are Not There Yet. we are not in a world where any homosexual can truly, fully, wholeheartedly assimilate, whether you consider it a good thing or not. fun gay artists and boring uninteresting gay office workers die the same death that we all do. the one you don't wake from. and guess what. all types of homosexuals, regardless of which ones you pick and choose to be mad at, are affected by homophobic legislation. not just the ones you think should be spared because they're oh so fun. and oh so radical.

donate to the rainbow railroad org if you can. they help LGBT+ people escape state-sponsored violence. a singular nail on one of their members' hand does more activism and real-life good than any mfer making video essays could do in his entire life.

[here-there-were-dragons]

i have to wonder what super hardcore militant vegans think should be done about obligate carnivore animals, because in all my painfully-rapidly-approaching-30-years i've literally never actually seen anyone give a clear consistent much less halfway feasible answer on that

[britneyshakespeare]

there's this blog called sbrown82 always talking some gross sexist crap about marianne, anita and bianca as marsha hunt is superior to them or smt its giving closet fan tbh 💀

Sounded familiar so I looked it up, and yeah I have that user blocked. I followed them for a hot second because they made some really good posts about the life of Marsha Hunt, but as I saw how they started talking about other 1960s "Stones muses" (as people call them) and saying really sexist and unfair things (especially stigmatizing drug addiction in the case of Anita and Marianne) I was like... mmm ok I'm out. And I blocked just to ensure I'd never see them in the tags again, since the only tag I follow on here is Marianne.

I'm not like an insecure stan who can't bear to see my favs criticized. But when it comes to Marianne, I just see no justice or catharsis you can have by tearing her down. She's already largely forgotten and erased in favor of her ex, reduced in memory to an angel with big tits who turned junkie plaything. That's already how most Stones fans who even know her name see her. 30 years after her book, people will just bring up her name to make a disgusting Mars Bar joke (that story was made up by a cop, but it's funnier to treat it as real). Meanwhile, just about everything she has done which is worth celebrating over her long career is neglected and underrated except by the cult fans. That stands true for any other creative working woman the Stones associated with when they were young. It's extremely true for Marsha Hunt, too, who you don't see as much appreciation for on Tumblr, as relatively small as even Marianne's 'fandom' is. Ah, oh well. Someday I hope history will view these women with more dignity. Much of what they've suffered in the public eye is overlapping.

Edit: oh yeah, and fuck Mick Jagger.