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@thewitchwives
Speaking as a survivor of child sex abuse: the world would be a lot better if yall spent less time talking about the ways in which pedophiles should be punished and more time supporting survivors and preventing abuse
I get it, punishment can feel cathartic. Iâve certainly spent time imagining all the ways in which my own abuser might be punished. But ultimately, him dying, or being jailed, or publicly shamed, isnât actually going to help me nor will it stop more kids from getting hurt in the future.
I donât want more prisoners. I want free therapy with trauma informed counselors. I want better sex education for young children that teaches them about consent and body autonomy. And I want a society in which I can openly discuss my trauma, or at least as openly as yall discuss the evils of pedophiles
the two fundamental truths of historical and contemporary mankind:
we were just as smart then as we are now
we are just as stupid now as we were then
Yes, the Ancient Egyptians absolutely could have built the pyramids
Yes, modern people absolutely could have a moral panic about bicycles driving women into fits of licentiousness
[My fatherâs] funeral showed me that [he] meant many things to many people, and we were all grieving for different versions of him, when he felt most ours. For my mother, it was their early years together when they were semi self-sufficient, grew their own vegetables and had goats in the front garden and chickens in the back. For his manager Rob, it was sitting side by side, helping him keep the words flowing and making him the odd âglugââa coffee with a tot of brandy. Or, on harder days, a brandy with a tot of coffee. For me, the dad I grieved most for, and still do, is the one I remember as a kid.
We didnât have much money, but I hardly noticed when there were woods and fields to run around in, trees to climb, and animals to play with. Dad and I often walked around the countryside while he taught me which wild plants were edible and showed me hidden caves and pools in the middle of the forest. He used to whistle loudly. I could never get the hang of it, so instead he taught me the words to The Rhubarb Tart Song and Whose Pigs Are These? We would sing them loudly, joyfully, the wildlife fleeing before us.
Dad was someone who committed to the narrative of a situation rather more than the practicality. So he would wrap me up and take me out of bed in the middle of the night to show me the glow-worms in the hedge or Halleyâs Comet blazing across a star-filled sky. For him, his daughter seeing these marvels of nature was much more important than sleeping, which I could do any time. He didnât teach me magic, he showed me it.
âRhianna Pratchett (taken from âTerry Pratchett: His Worldâ)
Discworld Heritage Post
âaverage person eats 3 spiders a yearâ factoid actualy just statistical error. average person eats 0 spiders per year. Spiders Georg, who lives in cave & eats over 10,000 each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted
#tapping the reblog button with utmost care because iâm handling a historical artifact (via @malarkiness)
holy shit OP is not only still active but is still making absolutely banger posts in this exact style 11 years later
A 2025 update
brands usually try to choose transliterated names that have nice poetic connotations, like Google (è°·æ/guge/"valley song"), but not all brands will bother to come up with a transliteration, so they get auto-assigned one by The Public, which doesn't care about PR and also has a sense of humor, and thus the official unofficial names include:
Trader Joe's - çŒșćŸ·è /quede jiu/"rotten uncle"
Whole Foods - çŽç¶ć/hou fuzi/"monkey father and son"
Costco - æ æ»æ /kousikou/"stingy as hell"
Y'know that quote about "if you're the smartest person in the room, you're in the wrong room"
Also applies to queerness and neurodivergency
idk how to compare those lol
The original quote's purpose is to say that you should always seek out people smarter than you for your own intellectual development.
If I'm the gayest and most mentally ill person in the room, I need to find a room with more gay and mentally ill people for my own gay and mentally ill development.
And thats why you are on Tumblr
You get it
A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. âDo I look like a fool?â said the frog. âYouâd sting me if I let you on my back!â
âBe logical,â said the scorpion. âIf I stung you Iâd certainly drown myself.â
âThatâs true,â the frog acknowledged. âClimb aboard, then!â But no sooner than they were halfway across the river, the scorpion stung the frog, and they both began to thrash and drown. âWhy on earth did you do that?â the frog said morosely. âNow weâre both going to die.âÂ
âI canât help it,â said the scorpion. âItâs my nature.â
___
âŠBut no sooner than they were halfway across the river, the frog felt a subtle motion on its back, and in a panic dived deep beneath the rushing waters, leaving the scorpion to drown.
âIt was going to sting me anyway,â muttered the frog, emerging on the other side of the river. âIt was inevitable. You all knew it. Everyone knows what those scorpions are like. It was self-defense.â
___
âŠBut no sooner had they cast off from the bank, the frog felt the tip of a stinger pressed lightly against the back of its neck. âWhat do you think youâre doing?â said the frog.
âJust a precaution,â said the scorpion. âI cannot sting you without drowning. And now, you cannot drown me without being stung. Fairâs fair, isnât it?â
They swam in silence to the other end of the river, where the scorpion climbed off, leaving the frog fuming.
âAfter the kindness I showed you!â said the frog. âAnd you threatened to kill me in return?â
âKindness?â said the scorpion. âTo only invite me on your back after you knew I was defenseless, unable to use my tail without killing myself? My dear frog, I only treated you as I was treated. Your kindness was as poisoned as a scorpionâs sting.â
___
âŠâJust a precaution,â said the scorpion. âI cannot sting you without drowning. And now, you cannot drown me without being stung. Fairâs fair, isnât it?â
âYou have a point,â the frog acknowledged. âBut once we get to dry land, couldnât you sting me then without repercussion?â
âAll I want is to cross the river safely,â said the scorpion. âOnce Iâm on the other side I would gladly let you be.â
âBut I would have to trust you on that,â said the frog. âWhile youâre pressing a stinger to my neck. By ferrying you to land Iâd be be giving up the one deterrent I hold over you.â
âBut by the same logic, I canât possibly withdraw my stinger while weâre still over water,â the scorpion protested.
The frog paused in the middle of the river, treading water. âSo, I suppose weâre at an impasse.â
The river rushed around them. The scorpionâs stinger twitched against the frogâs unbroken skin. âI suppose so,â the scorpion said.
___
A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. âAbsolutely not!â said the frog, and dived beneath the waters, and so none of them learned anything.
___
A scorpion, being unable to swim, asked a turtle (as in the original Persian version of the fable) to carry it across the river. The turtle readily agreed, and allowed the scorpion aboard its shell. Halfway across, the scorpion gave in to its nature and stung, but failed to penetrate the turtleâs thick shell. The turtle, swimming placidly, failed to notice.
They reached the other side of the river, and parted ways as friends.
___
âŠHalfway across, the scorpion gave in to its nature and stung, but failed to penetrate the turtleâs thick shell.
The turtle, hearing the tap of the scorpionâs sting, was offended at the scorpionâs ungratefulness. Thankfully, having been granted the powers to both defend itself and to punish evil, the turtle sank beneath the waters and drowned the scorpion out of principle.
___
A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. âDo I look like a fool?â sneered the frog. âYouâd sting me if I let you on my back.â
The scorpion pleaded earnestly. âDo you think so little of me? Please, I must cross the river. What would I gain from stinging you? I would only end up drowning myself!â
âThatâs true,â the frog acknowledged. âEven a scorpion knows to look out for its own skin. Climb aboard, then!â
But as they forged through the rushing waters, the scorpion grew worried. This frog thinks me a ruthless killer, it thought. Would it not be justified in throwing me off now and ridding the world of me? Why else would it agree to this? Every jostle made the scorpion more and more anxious, until the frog surged forward with a particularly large splash, and in panic the scorpion lashed out with its stinger.
âI knew it,â snarled the frog, as they both thrashed and drowned. âA scorpion cannot change its nature.â
___
A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. The frog agreed, but no sooner than they were halfway across the scorpion stung the frog, and they both began to thrash and drown.
âIâve only myself to blame,â sighed the frog, as they both sank beneath the waters. âYou, youâre a scorpion, I couldnât have expected anything better. But I knew better, and yet I went against my judgement! And now Iâve doomed us both!â
âYou couldnât help it,â said the scorpion mildly. âItâs your nature.âÂ
___
âŠâWhy on earth did you do that?â the frog said morosely. âNow weâre both going to die.â
âAlas, I was of two natures,â said the scorpion. âOne said to gratefully ride your back across the river, and the other said to sting you where you stood. And so both fought, and neither won.â It smiled wistfully. âAh, it would be nice to be just one thing, wouldnât it? Unadulterated in nature. Without the capacity for conflict or regret.â
___
âBy the way,â said the frog, as they swam, âIâve been meaning to ask: Whatâs on the other side of the river?â
âItâs the journey,â said the scorpion. âNot the destination.â
___
âŠâWhatâs on the other side of anything?â said the scorpion. âA new beginning.â
___
âŠâAnother scorpion to mate with,â said the scorpion. âAnd more prey to kill, and more living bodies to poison, and a forthcoming lineage of cruelties that you will be culpable in.â
___
âŠâNothing we will live to see, I fear,â said the scorpion. âAlready the currents are growing stronger, and the river seems like it shall swallow us both. We surge forward, and the shoreline recedes. But does that mean our striving was in vain?â
___
âI love you,â said the scorpion.
The frog glanced upward. âDo you?â
âAbsolutely. Can you imagine the fear of drowning? Of course not. Youâre a frog. Might as well be scared of breathing air. And yet here I am, clinging to your back, as the waters rage around us. Isnât that love? Isnât that trust? Isnât that necessity? I could not kill you without killing myself. Are we not inseparable in this?â
The frog swam on, the both of them silent.
___
âIâm so tired,â murmured the frog eventually. âHow much further to the other side? I donât know how long weâve been swimming. Iâve been treading water. And itâs getting so very dark.â
âShh,â the scorpion said. âDonât be afraid.â
The frogâs legs kicked out weakly. âHow long has it been? Weâre lost. Weâre lost! Weâre doomed to be cast about the waters forever. There is no land. Thereâs nothing on the other side, donât you see!â
âShh, shh,â said the scorpion. âMy venom is a hallucinogenic. Beneath its surface, the river is endlessly deep, its currents carrying many things.âÂ
âYou - Youâve killed us both,â said the frog, and began to laugh deliriously. âIs this - is this what itâs like to drown?âÂ
âWeâve killed each other,â said the scorpion soothingly. âMy venom in my glands now pulsing through your veins, the waters of your birthing pool suffusing my lungs. We are engulfing each other now, drowning in each other. I am breathless. Do you feel it? Do you feel my sting pierced through your heart?â
âWhat a foolish thing to do,â murmured the frog. âNo logic. No logic to it at all.â
âWe couldnât help it,â whispered the scorpion. âItâs our natures. Why else does anything in the world happen? Because we were made for this from birth, darling, every moment inexplicable and inevitable. What a crazy thing it is to fall in love, and yet - Itâs all our fault! We are both blameless. Weâre together now, darling. It couldnât have happened any other way.â
___
âItâs funny,â said the frog. âI canât say that I trust you, really. Or that I even think very much of you and that nasty little stinger of yours to begin with. But Iâm doing this for you regardless. Itâs strange, isnât it? Itâs strange. Why would I do this? I want to help you, want to go out of my way to help you. I let you climb right onto my back! Now, whyever would I go and do a foolish thing like that?â
___
A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. âDo I look like a fool?â said the frog. âYouâd sting me if I let you on my back!â
âBe logical,â said the scorpion. âIf I stung you Iâd certainly drown myself.â Â
âThatâs true,â the frog acknowledged. âCome aboard, then!â But no sooner had the scorpion mounted the frogâs back than it began to sting, repeatedly, while still safely on the riverâs bank.
The frog groaned, thrashing weakly as the venom coursed through its veins, beginning to liquefy its flesh. âAh,â it muttered. âFor some reason I never considered this possibility.â
âBecause you were never scared of me,â the scorpion whispered in its ear. âYou were never scared of dying. In a past life you wore a shell and sat in judgement. And then you were reborn: soft-skinned, swift, unburdened, as new and vulnerable as a child, moving anew through a world of children. How could anyone ever be cruel, you thought, seeing the precariousness of it all?â The scorpion bowed its head and drank. âHow could anyone kill you without killing themselves?â
A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river.
âTo be honest,â said the desert rain frog. âIâm the wrong kind of frog for that.â
âOh,â said the scorpion.
âI was hoping to find someone to carry me across, myself.â It admitted.
âOh,â The scorpion said. âWell, we can wait together.â
And they sat, and spoke, and when a turtle happened to pass along, they both ventured together, and the scorpion was too busy sharing words to ever think of stinging.
â
âActually,â said the scorpion, as it climbed onto the frogâs back, âMy sting is harmless.â
âOh really?â Said the frog, as it began to swim.
âYes,â the scorpion waved the small stinger about. âThe poison is useless to anything larger than a beetle. I canât threaten you with it at all, you see, so you donât really need to worry about it at all.â
The frog, now freed from the fear of death, began preparing to dive.
âAlthough,â the scorpion continued as it felt the frog slow down, âdo not think me entirely defenceless.â
âWhy not?â Said the frog. âAll you have is your claws. And they arenât sharp enough to pierce my skin.â
âNo, they are not,â agreed the scorpion, getting a good hold of the frogâs shoulders. âBut they are strong. They need to be, to hold my prey so my weak venom has time to work.â
âBut they will not kill me.â
âNo. But there are other ways to hurt.â The scorpion tightened its grip, letting the teeth of its claws sink into the skin.
âYou will drown me, of course, but my claws will remain locked. My drowned corpse will hang over your shoulders, right here, claws buried in you. And everyone who sees you will see it. And they will see my frail little body, and my weak little stinger. And you will drown me, yes, but for the rest of your life everyone will know that you took the life of a creature that was no danger to you for no greater sin than that you did not want to grant them passage. You will never escape the weight of me on your back, waiting to be carried to the afterlife you delivered me to.â
The frog was silent, for a while, before it continued to swim. âI think I would have preferred you with a stinger that worked.â
The scorpion relaxed its grip. âAnd I would have preferred to not have to use it.â
â
âDo you know how many times weâve done this?â Asked the frog, eyes flicking back to its passenger. âI canât remember how long itâs been.â
âA million lives.â Purred the scorpion, claws nestled up to the frogâs neck. âA million lives now, with this one. And it never matters until weâre here.â
âIâm glad itâs us.â Said the frog, letting the tide sweep it away. âIâm glad even after a million lives, we always find each other.â
The scorpion clung tight, even as the water seeped into its carapace. âIâd never die with anyone else, my love.â
Hopelessly entangled, they faded into oblivion.
â
A chicken stood at the edge of a road, watching the cars go by.
âIs this all there is?â It asked.
âI donât know.â Said the fox across from it, brushing some grass from itâs foot.
âBut it might be nice to find out.â
â
-but no sooner had the frog gotten halfway across the river did a great catfish rise up, mouth so wide they could not escape.
âOh, foolish frog and foolish bug.â It said, voice full of pity as it swallowed them both. âYour eyes glued to the most obvious threat, did you never think there were greater things to fear in a river as deep and wide as this?â
And the catfish swam off, to find more frogs to devour.
â
âSorry?â The scorpion paused, confused. âSting you? Why on earth would I do that?
âWell,â said the frog. âItâs in your nature to, isnât it?â
âNo, not at all!â The scorpion said, voice tinged with insult. âWe donât run around stabbing everything we see. Thatâs a good way to start a fight you canât win. A stinger is just for catching food and fending off predators, really. Itâs no more my nature to sting everything as it is your nature to drown everything. And you donât do that, do you!â
The frog scowled, petulant at the tone. âWell, the scorpion I usually see here almost always stings meâŠâ
âThat seems like youâre projecting problems with one scorpion onto every scorpion you meet.â Said the scorpion. âIâm not really sure I trust you to take me across the river, frankly. Do you know if thereâs another frog who could help?â
The frog grumbled, and slipped into the water.
â
The chicken stood on the banks of the river with itâs children. A fox sat on the other bank, with a bag of corn.
âHoy, chicken.â Shouted the fox. âDo you ever think you might be stuck in a rut?â
âWhatâs it to you?â The chicken said, flapping a wing in annoyance. âMy life is my own business, fox.â
The fox shrugged, pawing at the corn. âI just feel like I canât get out of this cycle,â it said with a sigh. âLike my life is stuck on rails.â
â
âOn rails?â The scorpion asked. âWhat do you mean?â
âMy whole life is just this river-â
â
âThis road-â
â
âThis boat-â
â
âAnd it feels like it doesnât change. It feels like Iâm always just here. In the river, with you.â
â
âIs it such a bad place to be?â Asked the fox.
âWith me?â
â
âHow long do you think the river has been here?â Asked the scorpion.
The frog thought about that until the poison had seeped into its bones.
âAs long as us,â it whispered, as its lungs gave out. âAs long as weâve needed it.â
â
âYouâre not swimming right.â Said the scorpion, pinching the frogâs arm.
âYou need to kick round with the back legs, push with the front, like this-â gently, it pushed the frogâs limbs into the correct position.
âOh, thank you.â Said the frog. âIâm no good at this. Iâve never been a frog before.â
âYouâre doing brilliantly, my dear.â The scorpion said, trying to reassure. âI would have taught you earlier if I could have.â
âAnd I would have taught you to walk.â The frog laughed, kicking much stronger now. âIf only Iâd known you didnât know! I saw you stumbling over the sands there.â
âIâve never had so many legs!â The scorpion wailed. âHow do you manage them all? And the eyes!â
They were not making it across the river very fast.
âI donât mind only having two eyes.â The frog admitted. âI could get used to it.â
Despite the tutoring, the frog was getting exhausted, weak muscles failing in strong currents.
The scorpion tried to kick at the water, but its frail carapace only dredged in the currents, dragging them both down further.
âOh, weâre no good at it this way around.â The scorpion said with a shake of its tail, claws clinging so strongly to the frogâs gossamer skin that it ripped open, spilling the entrails like ruby ribbons into the depths.
The frog laughed, choking on the water it didnât know how to breathe. âI canât swim, and you wonât sting! Oh, how our natures fail us still!â
And the river claimed them both once more.
â
âDo you remember a time before the riverbank?â Asked the fox.
âDo you remember anything after it?â The Chicken countered, head stuck in the bag of corn as it ate its fill. âIs there anything but the pursuit of what we will never grasp?â
âMaybe we will grasp it,â the foxâs voice was tinged with hope, tail tucked tightly around its legs. âMaybe one day, we will be more than our natures, and we will not have to cross the river again.â
âI like the thrill of it.â Said the chicken. âIâd miss the thrill of it.â
The fox sighed, and lowered its head down to the chicken, already doomed to bite. âBut still, wouldnât it be nice?â
â
But alas, the rains had been heavy, and the river bank had become swollen and wide.
The frog kicked for what felt like an eternity, the scorpion holding steady on its back.
Eventually it could swim no longer, and its legs seized up, as it gasped for air.
âIâm sorry, my love-â the frog wheezed. âI donât think I can make it-â
âItâs okay.â The scorpionâs voice was soft with sadness, knowing now that it was doomed to die. âI didnât know it would be so hard. Iâm sorry I did this to you. Iâm sorry I couldnât help.â
âItâs not your fault,â said the frog, as the currents began to sweep them both downstream. âI wanted to help, I- I really thought I could get you there, I, we were so close -â
âWe really were, werenât we?â The scorpionâs hold on the frog was loosening, as its head swam from lack of oxygen. âWe almost made it, we really didâŠâ
The frog wailed in grief as the scorpionâs body was torn away, swallowed by the churning rapids.
â
A scorpion walked across an old riverbed. The smooth pebbles had long laid bare, the river dried up thousands of years ago.
It paused in the middle, overcome with a strange pain in its chest, and decided to turn back.
It felt wrong to cross this river alone.
â
âWhere do you think the cars go?â Asked the fox.
The chicken watched a car drive by, seeing the shadowy shapes move within. âI try not to think about it. I want to be happy with my lot in life.â
â
-and no sooner had the frog gotten halfway across the river when the scorpion tapped its stinger against the frogâs back to get its attention.
âHey,â said the scorpion. âIâm not really in that much of a rush, and itâs a beautiful day. Why donât we just go up the river instead? Iâve always wanted to try standing on a lilypad.â
âSure, if youâd like.â Said the frog. âI donât have any plans for the day.
And while the river remained uncrossed, neither of them were unhappy about this.
â
âWhen did you know you loved me?â Asked the turtle, as the scorpion clung onto its back, hiding from the deep currents of the river.
The scorpion winced as a wave shook them. âOh, from the start.â it said, shaking water from its tail. âOr near enough. Iâd never met a frog before. And even though you didnât know me, you laid your life on the line for me. For hope that the impossible was possible.â
The turtle considered that, thinking back across its many lives.
âI donât think I knew I loved you until recently.â The turtle admitted, lifting its head from the water so its voice could be soft. âIt took time, I think, to know. But that said, why else would I come back, time and time again to the same spot of the same river?â
âYou have a world of rivers you could be in, my love.â The scorpion agreed. âAnd yet I always wait for you here. And you always come.â
âIâve never been as vulnerable as Iâve been with you.â Even as the water licked up its shell, the turtle continued to swim. âIâd never trust my life to anyone else.â
âHereâs to us,â said the scorpion, raising its stinger. âAnd the river.â
âHereâs to us.â Said the turtle, raising a flipper to sting. âI hope we always find each other.â
â
âWell here we are,â said the frog to the scorpion. âThe other side.â
âHere we are.â The scorpion agreed, slowly climbing off its back. âThank you, for all of this.â
âThank you for choosing me.â Said the frog. âThank you for chaining my lives together. For helping me remember the infinity of Us.â
The scorpion didnât answer, simply looking up, letting the sun warm its carapace.
âIâve never really left the river.â The frog took another step onto the bank. âItâs⊠nice.â
The scorpion turned. For a moment, the frog felt the surge of adrenaline as it felt a pinch on its skin, only to find the scorpion had clasped its claw around their hand. âCome with me.â It pleaded, voice soft with urgency. âCome with me, and donât say no. I wonât leave this river without you. We can see the other side together.â
Those claws could slice, but they were only firm. The river was only the river. But from the banks the frog could see a jungle of lush green, vibrant with life beyond its knowledge. It laughed. âIâve always wondered what it was like out there.â
â
And the river was silent, with no moral questions to burden it.
Thatâs because i only added this bit this morning. I think its pretty good
I think itâs beautiful. thank you for making this
An important thing we all need to understand politically is that it's not the guy.
It's never the guy.
If Trump dropped dead tomorrow, there would be a hundred neofascists emerging from the ranks of conservative politics and punditry to be the next Trump.
If Elon Musk dropped dead tomorrow, there would be a hundred techbros climbing over each other to be the next Elon Musk.
There will always be people like X. This is why having a robust system of checks on power is important. Because it's never just one guy that's warping the system. There will always be guys trying to warp the system. What matters is the system's resiliency against being warped.
That is what has been steadily eroded over the last forty years to bring us to this point. And that is what we need to build again.
Listen, I'm having fun playing with the ultra patriotic voice, but after a couple years in blue-collar landscaping jobs, you really do need to phrase things like that.
"I'm pretty sure that fella ain't here legally."
"Well, that ain't your business Chip, it's his."
They hate being preached to. If you pull out words like 'gender wage gap' they'll tell you you're brainwashed by the far left media.
"He's one of them transgenders."
"He got freedoms too, Jimmy."
Also, please understand that SO often the real issue these people have is that they just want to say something inappropriate. They don't like being told they can't say "fag", so they'd say it for a reaction, just like a teenager would.
Shut down the conversation without reacting.
"His dick, not mine" will get you much further to shutting that guy down than "well it's really inappropriate to call someone a slur while I'm the job site".
And that's the point. To shut them up. To make them quit saying shit like that. The first one makes him seem kinda weird for caring about what that guy does with his dick. The second one gives him something to fight against and make a big deal about.
code-switching matters for communicating across cultures of all varieties
State terrorism charges have been dropped against Luigi Mangione. He is still on trial for the lesser charge of 2nd-degree murder.
source
WONDERFUL to hear on 1,221 days left
reminder: keep up with saying he IS NOT THE UHC SHOOTER, they haven't proven that he is, keep insisting he and the UHC shooter are separate entities.
Important reminder- thank you
I mentioned this to my mother the other day, that i dont think he even did it, and she pulled a "wtf" face and was like "how did you come to that conclusion" so I laid out the various things that don't add up and the glaring procedural fuck ups and the targetted campaign to make everyone think he's guilty.
At one point she goes "ok, but hold on - if he didnt do it then why did he confess?" She was FLOORED when I told her that he hadn't. That he has maintained his innocence since the start.
And this is my mother, who is usually across this kind of thing. She had no idea about the missing bodycam footage that happens to align with the time they took his backpack out of sight before bringing it back and opening it for the """"""first""""" time and finding the supposed evidence inside.
She straight up thought that HE was the one who called himself in. Thought he'd gone to Macca's for a last burger then called the cops on himself and confessed. When she learned that wasnt true, she was SHOCKED.
Keep talking to people about this. Keep reiterating that they havent found him guilty of anything yet, and that they've breached his rights in several different ways since arresting him, and that he and the UHC shooter are almost certainly different people.
Too many people think that he confessed. Too many think that he's guilty, when the odds are good that he VERY MUCH IS NOT.
Do you think Clark Kent's first few major articles were about the continued presence of lead pipes in parts of Metropolis' water system
(Average Metropolis reader after investigative reporter C. Kent's 452nd article on yet another case of landlords/business owners/factories' continued use of lead pipes/paint/gas/glass knowingly exposing the public to dangerously toxic lead levels) what the fuck happened to this guy
One day Bruce Wayne mentions in an interview that heroes like Superman are overrated, as the most effective way to reduce crime is to provide public resources and improve local infrastructure, then cites how neighboring city Metropolis has effectively lowered their violent crime by 13% after addressing their outdated water system and investing low income housing. the reporter conducting the interview suddenly starts looking a little uncomfortable
To be clear, Clark is still a fantastic investigative reporter. He still has to track down the sources to prove all this shit
"Who, Clark Kent? Yeah, we're pretty sure he's a Meta. Is he a superhero? Like what, "Lead-detector guy"? "Captain pipes?" Don't get me wrong, he's a great guy and it's a handy trick, but it's lead detection, not laser vision. He's not about to go running around in tights any time soon."
I just love the idea of a cape maintaining their secret identity by pretending to be a completely different and less impressive kind of parahuman.
everyone assumes that kent is so squirrely around superheros because heâs just desperately hoping not to be conscripted to the JLA to fix their plumbing
Local Metropolis Reporter Publically Recognized For Contributions To The City; Awarded Medal Of Distinction
They tried to get superman to present the medal but he was offended at being called "overrated" in comparison to Clark so he declined
Counter offer: Bruce Wayne disguised as Superman
beating this dead horse with memes
This sounds like a shitpost but people should be allowed to be horny. As in, sexuality is just part of life for most people and thereâs no reason for consensual sexual behavior to be punished. A celebrity getting âcaughtâ at a sex club shouldnât be a scandal. No one should be fired for having a fetlife profile outside of work. Nudes getting leaked shouldnât be career-ending. Denying and hiding (consensual) sexual interests doesnât make anyone more professional, it just makes everyone more repressed. And sterilizing ourselves to be better work drones isnât productive, itâs just creepy. Iâd rather my surgeon get absolutely railed on camera and come to work in a good mood, frankly.
the amount of ace, aroace, + sex-repulsed ppl leaving support on this post is rly heartwarming
also this goes without saying but is also true of ppl who do sex work for used to do sex work. an accountantâs boss finding out that they used to do sex work shouldnât be a career ender. a restaurant worker shouldnât be fired bc they have an OnlyFans.
âMany people seem to think it foolish, even superstitious, to believe that the world could still change for the better. And it is true that in winter it is sometimes so bitingly cold that one is tempted to say, âWhat do I care if there is a summer; its warmth is no help to me now.â Yes, evil often seems to surpass good. But then, in spite of us, and without our permission, there comes at last an end to the bitter frosts. One morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. And so I must still have hope.â
â Vincent Van Gogh
âIf I am worth anything later, I am worth something now. For wheat is wheat, even if people think it is a grass in the beginning.âÂ
- Vincent van Gogh