#Not violent

[conditionaljewel]

I was bored. Is this anything?

“Ah, fuck!”

The knife clattered to the counter, before bouncing onto the ground. Imogen, clutching her hand tightly as a drop of red hit the countertop, danced away from the counter as the knife fell and rattled on the ground for a brief second before coming to rest.

“What is it, darling,” Laudna said as her attention was pulled away from the book she was reading in the solarium adjacent to the kitchen. She looked up to find Imogen turning and holding her hand, a stream of blood now starting to appear through her fingers. Immediately, she noticed the red streak, and hopped up from her chair, dropping her book onto the table. “Oh!”

Imogen looked around frantically for a towel, only finding a small rag that was already a bit damp. “Shit,” she said as she continued to peer around the counter for something to stem the bleeding.

Laudna, meanwhile, scurried around to the washroom for clean wash rags, and fetched the first aid kit that was kept behind the closet door nearby in the process. Within moments, she came back to the kitchen to see Imogen still looking but unable to focus. “Here, sit,” Laudna said as she walked over to Imogen and slowly ushered her over to a seat.

Imogen looked up at Laudna as she walked her over to the chair she had just been sitting in. Laudna could tell Imogen was biting her lip in an effort to mitigate the pain, the sting quite pronounced still in her hand.

“What happened,” Laudna asked as she sat Imogen down and began to examine her hand. She could now see the deep gash across the palm of Imogen’s hand, a good two inches long, but didn’t appear to be very deep.

“I was cutting apples for a pie,” Imogen began to explain, her hand trembling as Laudna examined the cut. “I got a little too careless and wasn’t paying attention…” her voice trailed off in embarrassment.

Laudna remained focused on Imogen’s hand however, looking it over and taking the wash rags to stem the flow of the bleeding. As she squeezed Imogen’s hand applying pressure, Imogen sat with her head in her other hand, still in discomfort but feeling more calm and less shaky. “It’s okay,” Laudna said calmly. “It doesn’t look bad.”

Over the next minutes, Laudna sat there applying pressure and ensuring that the bleeding had stopped. She took a few rags and wet them, cleaning Imogen’s hands of the dried blood that stained her fingers, wrist, down to her arm.

Laudna cleaned the last of the blood from Imogen’s hands, not wanting to leave a drop not even under her fingernails. She dropped the rags to the floor and took a clean, dry towel to Imogen’s hand, patting it dry over the wound that was still very red and tender. She pulled the towel away and placed it on her lap, as she took Imogen’s hand into both of hers now.

With her hand sandwiched between Laudna’s, Imogen could still feel the slight sting of pain emanating from her hand. She closed her eyes, her head dropping from her other hand as Laudna continued to squeeze gently. Suddenly, she felt one of Laudna’s hands pull away and her hand start to lift up from where it had been resting, being held by Laudna.

She opened her eyes and saw Laudna place her lips to Imogen’s hand where the wound was. It didn’t hurt any more than it had a few moments ago; in fact, she thought it might even now feel a little bit better, though the wound was still quite visible.

As Laudna brought Imogen’s hand back down to the table, she continued to hold it delicately, as she prepared a bandage with her free hand.

“Thank you,” Imogen said as Laudna began to carefully wrap the bandage around Imogen’s hand. Within a minute, she had covered the wound and secured the bandage around Imogen’s wrist, leaving her fingers exposed just enough so she could keep the use of her hand for the next few days as it healed.

“Always,” Laudna said as she pulled Imogen's hand back up toward her lips once more. She kissed the knuckles of her hand this time, as Imogen held it aloft daintily. She blushed before retracting her hand delicately.

Laudna began to clean up the mess as Imogen leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “You’re quite the doctor,” she said with a light giggle, before walking back over to where the knife still sat on the kitchen floor.

Laudna smiled as she gathered the wash rags that were soiled with Imogen’s blood and stood up from the table. “Only for you,” Laudna replied. She left the room with the collection of rags and deposited them into a bin that was nearly starting to overflow with other dirty linens and clothes.

She returned in short order to the solarium, walking past Imogen as she went by and giving her a little tap on the ass as Imogen placed the rest of the apples into the pie crust. She jumped playfully as she felt Laudna’s hand impact on her backside, letting out a little squeal, before saying “be careful, wouldn't want me getting cut again, not unless you’re gonna take care of it?”

Laudna stopped in her tracks and turned back, approaching Imogen from behind and wrapping her arms around her as she pressed her stomach against Imogen’s back. “I would always take care of it, darling.” Laudna kissed the back of Imogen’s head and gave her a squeeze.

Imogen felt a warmth wash over her, and a shiver as the kisses on her neck sent a shockwave down her spine. “Careful, you,” she said to Laudna playfully. “Let me get this in the oven.”

Laudna stepped away and allowed Imogen to do as she had wished, the apple pie now prepared and ready to be placed in the oven to bake. As she did, Laudna poured them both fresh cups of tea and prepared a tray with the necessities. "Put that in, then come have some tea with me,” Laudna said as she resumed her walk back toward the solarium, carrying the tea tray with her.

“Now that sounds lovely,” Imogen said. She slid the pie into the awaiting oven, then removed her apron and placed it onto the counter. Letting out a sigh of accomplishment, Imogen joined her wife in the solarium, where they enjoyed their afternoon tea as the aroma of a freshly baking pie filled the cottage.

[witnessprotectionprogramurl]

[captainjonnitkessler]

Sometimes I wish we would start calling out the performative radicalism on this site for the poser bullshit it is. "Remember, it's always morally correct to kill a cop!" "Don't forget to firebomb your local government office!" "Wow, it sure would be a shame if these instructions on how to make a molotov cocktail got spread around!"

Okay. But you're not killing cops or firebombing government offices. You are posting on a dying microblogging website to a carefully-curated echo chamber that has radicalized itself into thinking that taking the absolute most extreme position on any subject is praxis but that anyone discussing the most practical way to effect actual change is your sworn enemy. You do not have the street cred OR the activist cred to be talking about killing cops, babe.

[bruciemilf]

Bruce: I know it’s hard, but you must remain forgiving and merciful, Jason.

Tim, who had to watch Bruce skin a man alive like a piece of salmon with a batarang for saying something rude about his then deceased son, throw him in the back of the Batmobile, and drive him to the hospital just to beat him up again:

[mageofpanic]

go go little star

[ra3kiv]

[possamble]

oh they super understood the assignment this time holy shit

[dragonpasta]

[donothello]

click for better quality/enlarged images!

and they'll be together forever! :]

foreshadowing

[sycamorality]

i am violently clear [emphasis on the violent]

[inkskinned]

the tradwife movement is the same as it has always been - back in the kitchen, back to breeding - it just has better branding.

when i was younger, i hated pink. i was not like other girls. this is now something i'm embarrassed of - this was not me being a "girl's girl."

but it was expressing something many of us felt at the time: i literally wasn't what girlhood was supposed to be. this is a hard thing to explain, but you know when you're not performing girlhood correctly. it isn't as easy as "i liked x when girls liked y" - because there were other girls that liked x, too - but i never figured out exactly the correct way to like x, or to be interested in y.

now there is the divine feminine. this is the same rhetoric it has always been: women are biologically driven to like pink and ribbons and submitting to our husbands.

the problem is that the patriarchy found a better PR team. because yes, actually, i want every woman to have the choice to be a homemaker. i also want her taken seriously for her legitimate home-making labor. i want her to be recognized as also having a job, just unpaid. i want men to have this opportunity, too.

but it is no longer "i made this choice and I love it." instead it is a sixteen-paragraph rant about how selfish it is that my generation isn't having kids. instead it's long videos about how if you feed your children processed foods, you're going to kill them. instead it is "this is what womanhood is supposed to be. i feel bad for any other choices you're making."

the shame spiral is just prettier. it is large houses devoid of personality. it is the implication: if you don't have this, you aren't happy. the solid, everlasting assurance: women are actually supposed to be submitting. this is the default. this is the natural state of things. all other attempts inflict suffering.

but you can no longer say i'm not like other girls. you can no longer reject this image completely. you cannot find it revolting, even if you know that the underbelly is toxic and festering. sure, it is the same repackaged patriarchy. but the internet does not have shades of grey. you should support and reward other women! your disgust is actually internalized misogyny. not because you are seeing a vision of yourself the way they're trying to train you to be. not because you feel her ghost pass within an inch of your earlobe. not because your father will eventually ask you - why can't you be like her?

because they figured out how to make it beautiful: women will sell other women on this idea, and we will find the singular loophole in feminism. sure, she's shaming you in most of her videos. sure, she implies that a different life is obscene. but she just wants you to be happy! you'd be happier if you were listening!

and the whole time you're sitting there thinking: i'd actually just be happier if i had that kind of money.

[tiger-grace]

Jason: I have a bone to pick with you

Bruce, just happy to talk to his estranged son: sure, what’s going on?

Jason, pulling out an entire femur: I stole this evidence from a crime scene. I need help with a case

Duke: hey B I have a bone to pick with you really quick

Bruce, on the verge of tears: please don’t.

Duke: I? just have a question?

[mydairpercabeth]

just saw the most heartbreaking annabeth take from ep 3

[squeakadeeks]

bro doesnt even have the jennies (certain je ne sais quois)

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"

just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible