#good neighbor mayor

[radicalsecondaryartblog]

hancock pookie perler beads yay so rad

[wiickian]

I can’t pick 😭 I already dated Hancock and I’m dating maccready but I feel like danse is so cute. I love Hancock but I feel like he was just dating me for the chems.

[jinxghoul]

I know you guys love Hancock as a Dad so look at this picture i was thinking it’s cute 😍😍❤️

He looks like a proud dad 🥺😍

[timemachineyeah]

I think in the next Animal Crossing, you should have to earn your control over the environment. And I don’t just mean working to get terraforming, I mean, like, earning it before getting to decide where other people’s homes are and stuff.

Idk, the deserted island is fun but I kind of hope in the next one we’re back to being a new face in an already established rural community. And you can still progress to moving absolutely everything on the map and decorating each square foot and flower to your liking, but, like… these other people have lives of their own.

I like knowing a rando isn’t gonna move onto my carefully curated flowerbed and ruin my path, but I don’t like how much the villagers in ACNH feel like fashion accessories rather than neighbors.

[jesterjamz]

[invisiblesketches]

Omg sneeg and Ranboo talked about the events happening in Paris I'm- idk how to react...

[garbagequeer]

IN MANY WAYS moving to a different city is like running for mayor of nothing

[yokelfelonking]

Post 9/11 Trivia

Most folks on this site were either children on September 11, 2001, or weren’t even born yet.  But America went crazy for about a year afterwards.  Here’s some highlights that I remember that might not be in your history books:

There was national discussion on whether or not Halloween should be canceled because…fuck if I know why.  After planes crashed into buildings in NYC it follows that 6-year-olds in Iowa shouldn’t be allowed to dress up like Batman and ask their neighbors for candy, I guess.  (Halloween wasn’t canceled, by the way.)

On a similar note, people asked if comedy - any sort of comedy - was appropriate anymore, ever.

People sold shitty parachutes to suckers “in case your building gets attacked and you have to jump out the window.” There were honest-to-God news reports warning people not to jump out of the window with shitty mail-order parachutes because they wouldn't work.

As a follow-up to the attacks, someone mailed anthrax to some prominent politicians and news anchors - you know, famous people - along with some badly-written notes about “you cannot stop us, death to America, Allah is good” and after that every time some random dumbass found a package in the mail they didn’t recognize they thought that the terrorists were targeting them, too.

Everyone was similarly convinced that their town was going to be the next target, even if they were a little town in the middle of nowhere. "Our town of Bumblefuck, South Dakota (population 690) has the largest styrofoam pig statue west of the Mississippi! Terrorists might fly planes into that too! It's a prime target!"

People started taping up their windows and trying to make their houses or apartments airtight out of fear of chemical and biological attacks. There were news reports warning people that turning your house into an airtight box was a bad idea because, y'know, you need air to breathe.

"[X] supports terrorism!" and “if we do [X], the terrorists win!” were used as arguments for everything.  "Some rich Arab you never heard of donated to his organization that backs Hamas which backs al-Queda, and also owns stock in a holding company that has partial ownership of the Pringles company, so if you eat Pringles you're supporting terrorism!" "The terrorists want to tear down our freedoms and our way of life and rule us through fear! Eating what you want is one of our freedoms as Americans! If you're afraid to eat Pringles, the terrorists win!" (I promise you that this sort of argument is in no way hyperbole.) (This argument is how Halloween was saved, by the way.  “If we cancel Halloween, the terrorists win!”)

People worked 9/11 into everything, and I mean everything, whether it was appropriate or not.  If you went to the grocery store the tortilla chips would remind you to support the troops on the packaging. Used car sales would be dedicated to our brave first responders. You couldn't wipe your ass without the toilet paper rolls reminding you to never forget the fallen of 9/11, and again, this is not hyperbole. My uncle, who lived in Ohio and had never been to New York except to visit once in the 70′s, died of a stroke about 8 months after 9/11, and the priest brought up the attacks at the eulogy.

On a similar local note, on the day of 9/11, after the towers went down, gas stations in my home town immediately jacked up gas prices.  The mayor had the cops go around and force them to take them back down.  I doubt any of that was legal.

Before 9/11, Christianity in America - and religion in general - was on a downward swing, with reddit-tier atheism on the upswing. Religion was outdated superstition from a bygone age. The day after 9/11? Every single church was PACKED. (This wasn't a bad thing, but the power-hungry on the Evangelical Right saw this as a golden opportunity to grab power and influence.)

EDIT: By Popular Demand - Freedom Fries. I initially left these off because they came a couple years after the initial panic and most people thought they were kind of absurd (and I don't recall anyone really going along with it other than maybe some local diners here and there). France didn't want to get involved in our world policing so some folks were like "TRAITORS!" and wanted to call french fries "Freedom Fries" instead, so as to stick it to the French.

Besides dumb shit like that…it’s really hard to overstate how completely the national mood and character changed in the span of a day, or how much of the current culture war is a result of the aftermath. (9/11 was the impetus for the sharp rise in power of the Evangelical Right, who made themselves utterly odious and the following backlash helped the rise of the current Progressive Left, for instance.)

And if all of this seems batshit...well, it was. But I want you to think for a moment how people react today over even trivial shit. People send death threats over children's cartoons. They call for blood if the maker of a video game had an opinion they don't like. If someone made a racist joke a decade ago when they were a teenage edgelord, folks will go after people who even associate with them. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND ALL THE HARM THEY'RE DOING!?"

Now take that same level of over-the-top histrionics and apply it to the unprecedented event of passenger planes crashing into crowded buildings in America's most populous city and killing thousands of people all at once. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT WE WERE ATTACKED!?"

[jnece-maharlika]

Pt2Danny Accidentally becomes the Ghost king, the president and the biggest threat to Bruce's social status.

Pt 1 link:

Part 2 Danny becomes the president.

Amity Parkers are the most adaptable people in the world. They're barely fazed by anything.

If you throw them into a situation that they are very unfamiliar with, it'll only take them five minutes to adjust before they start planning on how to live with this situation.

The Amity Parker mindset is: "Oh, I guess this is happening now."

So when the ghosts start attacking? The Amity Parkers immediately look for ways to avoid and protect themselves from the ghosts, not even questioning why ghosts are real. The only thing they think about is, "Damn, there's a ghost. I hope it doesn't attack the theater; I really want to see that movie."

When Phantom had his debut as a hero? The Amity Parkers started looking for ways to help, ways to keep out of his way (some to try and keep him away). The thought running through their minds was, "So this one is trying to protect us? Guess we have a hero now."

Amity Parkers don't spend their time getting mad at the sudden change of routine, the sudden loss of normalcy, or the broken buildings. Amity Parkers don't ask why and how ghosts are real, don't question if all ghosts are evil or if there are some good ghosts, and don't even think of how to get rid of them completely (they're part of the community now). They only look for ways to keep themselves from getting overshadowed. They definitely don't spend time thinking if the ghosts could bring more danger in the future or looking for more information for possible contingency plans. They aren't Batman; they believe that if the present is good, then the future will be better.

Point is, Amity Parkers are resilient and adaptable. They will take everything in stride and focus on the present. So what if some ghosts attack and block the street? They need to get to work, so they'll just drive around it.

After the whole Pariah Dark thing, they become liminal, gaining some form of super strength and glowing eyes (symptoms vary based on how strong the radiation on a person is). A normal human would think, "OH MY GOD, I'M DYING!" The Amity Parkers went, "Oh, cool, this is cool, but now I'm having a problem with opening doors without breaking the knob. Maybe the Fentons could do something about it, make stronger knobs or something."

When some babies started gaining some inhuman features? Some start floating? (Sharper ears, fangs. Babies adapt to things faster, so they get more ecto radiation.) The Amity parents went, "Is there a way to keep my child on the ground without leashing them like a dog?" Then proceeded to make a help blog for other Amity parents dealing with the same things.

So when the ghosts start becoming more of the community rather than enemies, the Amity Parkers just shrugged and asked for a book of ghost customs so they don't accidentally offend them.

When the Fentons started making ghost and human-safe items, no one even questioned why Danny had so much money and was funding his parents' research.

When Danny's name was almost (if not) in everything and he seemed to own most of the town, no one questioned it.

But everything changed when the GIW came again. Even the Amity Parkers weren't expecting this change.

The GIW waltzed in, claiming the liminal town was theirs to play with and started attacking everyone, including the Amity Parkers. The Amity Parkers went full defense mode, protecting the ghosts that were now their friends/neighbors/lovers, making sure that nothing would harm them.

They learned that it was Vlad who called on the GIW. He was pissed and petty that the crown was taken from him and decided to report his liminal town, pretending to be a "concerned mayor" who "wants his people to be healed."

The Amity Parkers were mad... they were furious.

And in the moment they saw Phantom fall to the ground, unconscious, and watched him de-transform from the hero King Phantom to the kid that owns and funds the most helpful companies in town, something changed. Something in the Amity Parkers changed.

Keep in mind that Amity Parkers don't change; they remain the same as they adapt to whatever change the world throws at them.

NEVER ONCE HAD THE AMITY PARKERS DECIDED TO MAKE A CHANGE THEMSELVES.

The first thing they changed? Their mentality. NEVER AGAIN WERE THEY GOING TO LET OUTSIDE FACTORS CHANGE THEIR LIVES. THIS IS THEIR TOWN AND IT WILL STAY THAT WAY.

God help the GIW for being their first victims.

An angry town of liminals, ghosts, and borderline gods, who have access to the Fentons' very destructive and effective technology.

Vs.

The regular GIW humans with anti-ghost tech they stole from the Fentons and nothing against liminals.

The battle was a swift victory, destroying not only the GIW in town but also all of its branches (and Vlad) with almost no traces of them even existing in the first place.

The change didn't stop there, however.

The Amity Parkers banded together with Team Phantom and the Fentons (minus Danny, as he is healing and shouldn't know about their plans; the hero should rest) and took out some of that ghost king money that Danny's trying to get rid of. They crashed the UN meeting while kidnapping the president of America.

The Amity Parkers have decided that Amity Park is theirs; it belongs to the people and its heroes. But how is it supposed to be truly theirs if they have to follow the rules of the country that funded the GIW?

A couple of death threats, bribing, more death threats and more money bribing to make sure the anti ecto acts are gone and the League of Bitches (Phantom called the JL that, and the Amity Parkers decided it was true) doesn't know about it, and a couple of hours in the nightmare realm (courtesy of Fright Knight, who happily participated when he found out what happened), and Amity Park was now its own independent country.

They decided that Tucker was to be a main part of security, letting him put up another firewall like the GIW did to make sure no one knows about their country. They don't want the League of Bitches or any outsider in the King's Haunt. It's theirs now; it belongs to the Ghost King of Amity Park, outsiders be gone.

And when it came to deciding who would be leader? There was no hesitation as they wrote down:

Daniel "Danny Phantom" Fenton, King of the Infinite Realms, King and President of Amity Park.

___________________

A couple of years later, Batman, finding hints of a "Lazarus pit" in Illinois, send Flash to look around for anything suspicious. Flash, hyper focused on following his gps, hits a wall, literally faceplants into it.He double checks his map, the wall wasn't supposed to be there. He goes around it, there no way in, no way out. He goes back to batman and reports.

Pt3 soon.

Tags as requested

@nana-mizu-shiki

@talia-scar123

[atimeofyourlife]

Time after time

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: uncle wayne adopts steve | rated: t | wc: 942 | cw: reference to abuse, reference of canon fake suicide | tags: steve harrington has bad parents, steve harrington needs a hug

The first time they met, Wayne knew the boy couldn't be much older than fourteen. Definitely younger than Eddie, who was fast approaching sixteen. It was early, a little before 6 am, during summer vacation, no less. Wayne had finished his shift and called into Benny's to get a coffee and breakfast, on the mornings he did this, he was almost always the first customer of the day. Occasionally beaten in by a cop, or a firefighter, or anyone else that had been stuck with a night shift. But he had never seen a kid in so early. Sat alone in the corner booth nursing a cup of coffee with an almost empty plate in front of him.

"Mornin' Wayne. The usual?" Benny asked.

"You know it. But, uh. What's with the kid?" Wayne replied, nodding toward the boy in the corner.

"Dick and Linda's kid. They're back in town, and he needs a safe place. So he comes here."

"Why don't you report it?" "You think I haven't tried? His parents paid off just about everyone from the mayor down. Kid's not lucky enough to have any other family around to look out for him."

The kid came over with his empty cup and plate.

"I've told you a thousand times that you don't need to do that kid." Benny said.

The kid just shrugged.

"What's your name, kid?" Wayne asked.

"Steve, sir. Steve Harrington." He replied.

"I'm Wayne. And I wish my boy was as polite as you."

The second time they met, it was in more unfortunate circumstances. Benny's funeral. There'd been weird shit going on in town, starting with the Byers' kid going missing. Wayne didn't believe any of the official stories. But especially not the story of Benny's supposed suicide. He knew Benny so well, and something like that wasn't the sort of thing to cross his mind.  He took his place in the community too seriously for that.

But the kid had changed. A few years older, and a lot more haunted. The look in his eyes giving away that he'd seen more than his fair share in his young life. And he was jumpy, almost always looking over his shoulder.  He kept to himself, away from everyone else there. Wayne didn't see much of him until after. Steve was standing at the edge of the parking lot, his hands shaking as he tried to get his lighter to work.

"Here, kid." Wayne held his own lighter out.

"Thank you, sir." Steve replied, after taking a long puff on his cigarette.

"No need for thanks, kid. You doing okay?"

"I. I think I'm gonna miss him. He's helped me out a lot." Steve admitted.

"That was Benny for you. Always ready to help anyone out. But do you have anyone else you can reach out to if you need it?"

Steve hesitated a moment. "Yeah, sir. I do."

The third time, it was less of a meeting than Steve yelling directions at everyone. Tabitha, a woman who lived on the other side of the trailer park, collapsed in the middle of Big Buy. The kid snapped into action without second thought, checking Tabitha for a pulse, for her breathing. He yelled at an employee to call for an ambulance as he started chest compressions. At another to clear space. At some other customers to block the end of the aisle so no one else could stand around and watch. Wayne approached as Steve gave rescue breaths, before going back to the chest compressions. When he noticed Wayne, he looked like he was about to yell at him, but Wayne spoke first.

"It's okay, kid. She's my neighbor. And I know CPR too, so when you need a break I can take over."

They swapped places a few times before the paramedics showed up and took over.

"You did good, son. You acted quicker than any adults did. You may have just saved her life." "Anyone would have done it, sir. I was just the closest who knew what to do."

The fourth time, it was at the hospital. Steve in the hospital bed next to Eddie's, identical wounds, but Steve's were infected. Wayne got to talking to Steve while Eddie slept.

"I tried to protect him the best as I could, sir. I patched him up, and made sure he got to the hospital in time. I know I should have done more-"

"You did more than enough. You kept him alive, now you need to focus on making sure that you're healthy. And you can drop the sir shit. It's Wayne."

After that, Wayne lost count of the meetings. From sharing the hospital room with Eddie, to being friends, to being more. He would do as much for Steve as he would for Eddie, and wanted to ensure that both always had somewhere safe to return to.

"Steve, if you ever want to get out of that big empty house of yours, you're more than welcome to join us here. We'd love to have you move in with us." Wayne said to Steve one day while they were cooking together. Eddie always conveniently disappeared when anything cooking related came up.

"Sir, Wayne. I couldn't put you out like that." Steve replied.

"Nonsense. You're as much my kid as Eddie is, it don't matter who your momma or daddy is. We want you here, you spend enough time here as it is, we might as well make it official."

"I, Wayne. I'd like that." Steve was quite choked up, so Wayne pulled him into a hug. All was going to be okay, with him and his two boys.

[heartfullofleeches]

In wolf's clothing

Yan Hybrids (Rabbit, NB. Mouse, Fem. Swan, Male) + Gender Neutral Sheep (?) Hybrid Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Mentions of Murder

-

Four animals are brought into questioning following the gruesome murder and dismemberment of their neighbor- A rabbit, a mouse, a swan - and a sheep. A sin of this caliber has not been committed since the founding decades of their shared home. The culprit responsible for the heinous act is to be brought to justice through execution by hanging in front of the town as a cautionary example to any who desire the same level of senseless bloodshed. 

Shall we begin?- 

The rabbit was an upstanding figure in the community. An outsider who quickly made a place for themselves amongst their peers, garnering love and tolerance by means of pleasant conversation and baked treats. Once the rabbit was present, sadness and grief were a thing of the past for most to whom they were acquainted. Honest and true, the rabbit has never told a lie nor done anything to jeopardize their new cozy life. 

“It's such a shame what happened to Mr. Possum.” Said the rabbit. “We had plans for brunch on the day he vanished. I even whipped up a batch of the scones he loved so much.” 

“Did you kill Mr. Possum?” 

The rabbit doesn't bat an eye as they reply. “No, I did not.”

“Where were you the morning he disappeared?”

“I was making tarts for another one of our friends. I think you may know. Sheep may not be the most talkative, but they enjoy my baking as much as any other. Where is Sheep? Are they alright? All this fuss surely must be getting to them by now…I hope they enjoyed the tarts….” 

The rabbit is released from custody. 

The mouse was a timid creature. On the rare occasion she wasn't holed up in the confines of her burrow, a common place to find the mouse was wandering along the borders of town where roads ended and the treelining began. Day in and day out, the little mouse would scrounge for fallen branches. The mouse found purpose for herself weaving baskets and other trinkets for herself and the neighbors who treated her in kind. 

“Oh…This won't take long, will it? I'd rather not be out past nightfall…” 

*Did you kill Mr. Possum?” 

Pain grips the tiny mouse’s voice as she squeaks. “I could never hurt a fly! Mr. Possum was such a gentle soul too… If not a tad misguided…”

“Where were you the morning he disappeared?”

The mouse dries her tears as swiftly as they fall. “Taking a nap after being up all evening making a necklace for… Oh, stars- Sheep, they're here aren't they? Could you let them know I'll be waiting for them outside? My poor, sweet Sheep…”

The mouse is released from custody. 

The swan was nothing if not a beautiful face. Tending to the upkeep of his image, the swan had no care for the outside world nor the people who dwelled within it. A shut in, abiding his precious time in the sanctity of his study. A man of few words; letters were the only feasible way of communicating with the bird, less the matter was of utmost importance and worthy of his time. 

“This is pointless.”

“Did you kill Mr. Possum?”

The swan scoffs - pinching the wall of his cheek with his teeth to avoid expression. “What good would killing that old bastard do me? Now look what you've done? If I develop wrinkles from frowning there will be hell to pay, Mayor.”

“Where were you the morning he disappeared?”

The swan brushes dirt off his fine coat. “In my study as always. That morning I was preoccupied writing notes in one of my books I intended to let that sheep borrow for a time….They are in this building, are they not? I'm sure they've asked for me by now.”

The swan is released from custody.

The sheep is a shadow upon the community. Lurking just out of sight, the sheep did everything in their power to remain unseen amongst their fellow townspeople. Their aloof nature when approach proved their odd behavior was not out of malice, but few still had their suspensions. The sheep was a sweet and gentle soul nonetheless. If only they took more care of their fur…

“Do I really have to be here? I didn't know him very well to begin with.”

“Yes… I'm afraid. Did you kill Mr. Possum?”

The sheep licks at the corner of their mouth, tongue collecting every crumb of pastry glued to their fur. How they wished they could have had just one more bite before coming. They blink, beady eyes glossing over with tears. 

“Did you…kill Mr. Possum?”

The sheep fiddles with the string of their new necklace tucked beneath their shirt as the mayor presses further- fighting every urge to gnaw at the bones dangling over their chest. “I… I didn't.”

“Where were you the morning he disappeared?”

The sheep recalls a distant memory- Lines written in a book they'd read not long ago. “I…was at home. I'm sure Rabbit, Mouse, and Swan can vouch for me….”

A hand squeezes the sheep’s shoulder. The mayor, a noble and charitable elk, nods in understanding at the smaller animal. He eyes the rings of red lacing their neck as they nervously pick at the skin. 

“Understood. Make sure you stick to this story if anyone else questions you. Hurry on home, young one, and be quick.”

The elk leans in closer- Whispering, though the walls of his office are as thick as the saliva the sheep swallows as he utters those dreaded words. 

 “It's about time for you to trim your claws again.”

The sheep is free from custody. 

Scurrying on home with their tail still tucked between their legs, the sheep finds three familiar faces waiting for them there.

“Sheep!” Warmth bathes the terrified animal as they're swept into the caring arms of their long-eared companion. The rabbit dabs their wet cheeks with their apron. “Are you alright, hunny-bunny? Tell us everything that happened.”

Through teary eyes, the sheep details every portion of their integration. “I think the mayor knows I didn't do it…. I hope the same goes for you guys…” 

A collective wave of relief falls over the group.

“That's good news.” Mouse adds. “If anyone is incapable of hurting someone it's Sheep… Poor Mr. Possum….I feel terrible for what happened to him.”

Swan rolls his eyes. “I’d say his demise is poetic justice for accusing Sheep of being a… well you know what.”

Rabbit shoves Sheep's head into their chest. “We all agreed not to talk about that anymore! Especially if Sheep is present! We've all had a long day… Why don't we head inside and relax after all that kerfuffle with a nice, rejuvenating cup of tea? Sheep, could you be a dear and grab that kettle I bought for you?” 

“O..oh… Um…Alright.”

The sheep squeezes past Swan and Mouse as they step inside their home. The remainder of the group wait for the telltale sound of them scrounging around in their room for the present before any of them speaks. 

Rabbit sighs. “Okay. I know they're horrible with keeping track of everything we give them so we have a few minutes to chat about this. Mouse, did you return the ax?”

Mouse points in the general direction of another house off somewhere in the distance. “I put it back in Squrriel’s shed where I found it last night.”

“Swan, did you check every one of those cameras you have to see if anyone saw us?”

Swan rolls his eyes. “Like anything that interesting happens in this town after nightfall. We're in the clear. We’d best head instead to help them. Plus, I need to get my time with them since you'll already taken front and center with everything else.” 

The death of Mr. Possum was later ruled as a robbery gone wrong committed by traveling crooks. It took many moons, but eventually peace fell upon the cozy little town and its tight knit community once more. Sheep, unable to sleep after the tragedy, sought refuge in the homes of those there for them in their time of need. 

Their doors were always open for their kind, gentle sheep. 

[beatrice-otter]

The President and the Police

It is curious to me that people who are (rightly) outraged at the police being sent against the college protestors and want to reflect that in their voting in the next election are focusing on the office that has zero power over the police, and not the offices that actually control the police. (This is especially aggravating because we've been talking about the police a lot over the last four years, and so if people actually wanted to change things you would think they would have figured out basic things like "who controls the police.")

The President does not and never has controlled the police. Anywhere in the US. Policing is a local matter. The vast majority of law enforcement is done by the city police (employed and governed by the city), county sheriffs and their deputies (employed by the county), and state police (employed and governed by the state). The laws and regulations and policies are made at the local level. So are hiring decisions! If you want to change things--and God knows the police are corrupt and violent and bigoted and awful, and DESPERATELY need to be changed--you can't do it through which presidential candidate you vote for (or don't vote for). You do it by voting for your local elected officials: town mayor and city councilmen (or whatever the exact positions are in your area), your county sheriff, and your state representatives. And then following up by doing things like attending city council meetings and raising the question of police reform--and talking to your neighbors and people in your community and building a coalition of people to work on alternatives to the police and convincing people to try some of them. If you live in a city that has a protest that the cops have been called to, please call your city government and complain. It won't magically change things but it'll be a little bit of pressure in the right direction.

The President does have some control over Federal law enforcement, but that's the FBI, DEA, ICE, and other more specialized groups (like the military police and Fish and Wildlife enforcement officers). And God knows that they could desperately use reform as well! ICE in particular should be abolished. So yeah, your vote for President will affect those organizations. (Trump, of course, loves ICE and wants to expand its powers and reach.)

But if you are rightly concerned by police response to the protests, and want to use your vote to do something about it, you need to be thinking locally.

And good news! Local elections have far fewer people voting in them, so it's actually much easier to affect things at a local level than it is to affect national affairs.

I know this, because I've seen it happen in my community. I am a supporter of an immigrant rights group in my community, and a while back our little local police department hired a guy who had been fired for racism by the biggest city in the region. This is extremely common; most trained and experienced police would much rather work in larger cities which pay better. So a lot of small towns and county sheriff's departments have trouble getting "qualified" people who want to work there, and regularly hire cops who are only willing to move to rural areas because they've been fired for cause and no larger police department will touch them.

But in this specific case, the local immigrant support group was watching, saw he'd been hired, and swung into action. They encouraged their members to call the city council, and go to city council meetings, and write letters to the editor, and after a couple of months of this the city council conceded and got rid of the guy. If you get a group of people together to make a concerted effort, you can make a difference in the policing in your local community.

But the President can't do jack about it. So don't blame him, blame the people who actually hire, train, and write the policies for the police. Who are all local people living in your area!

[speaknow-sw]

𝓘𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓲𝓽 𝓐𝒇𝒇𝓪𝓲𝓻

HEADCANONS FORM! Summary : in which you move in your new house in front of a very hot, very dad and very married man. But Anakin Skywalker is a gentle and caring neighbor. Gardenias appear in your garden and you befriended his wife. Soon enough you fit in this neighborhood though a little crush linger…

Ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ: mdni, dad! Anakin Skywalker, older married man, reader is 25 and Anakin’s 33, mentions of vaginal fingering, pining, cheating ?

AN : GUYS FIRST WORK !!! Okay actually very stressed to post this but I’m sure you’ll be indulgent. Please ? It’s just a part 1 tho idk when I’ll post part 2. Again I’m not fluent in English but please feel free to correct any error. The real stuff happens in part 2 cuz it’s just a plot installation. Hope y’all like my silly little idea.

You and Anakin met when you moved across the street. As a gentleman, he welcomed you and helped with all your boxes. One look and you both knew you were spiraling down an unforgivable path. 

« Excuse me Miss. Do you need help ? » Anakin asked gently. 

« Oh yes, thank you so much » you replied, blushing.

« Just moved in ? It’s a nice neighborhood. The name’s Anakin Skywalker. I live just across the street. » he pointed the white house with blue shutters in front of yours. 

« Well, yes I’m moving in. I hope we’ll become good neighbors. » you smiled  brightly. 

« Don’t doubt it. You seem a lot nicer than old Palps who lived here before you, » he laughed placing a boxes on your counter. « He died of cardiac arrest in his daughter’s house. But around here we say he died strangled in his bitterness. » he joked.

« Seems like a lovely man. » you chuckled.

When he finished helping you he invited you over at his house where you met his lovely…wife, Padmé. As you talked with them a pair of toddlers ran down the stairs. Anakin presented them as Luke and Leia his kids. Adorable, you thought. 

After that first day you crossed Anakin path a numerous time. Every morning you would leave for work around the same time giving each other a light « Hello » and a meaningful gaz, like electricity sparkling between you.

After some months like this, you strangely begun to see gardenias appearing in the back of your garden. 

Sundays barbecue were a common gathering for your neighborhood. Mr. Kenobi, the barbecue king for the five previous years hosting every one of them. Him and his wife Satine were the sweetest people you’ve ever met. Like a good neighbor you attented every barbecues and gained a little group of friends consisting of Padmé, Satine and Breha Organa, the mayor wife’s. 

You couldn’t help but stare at Anakin back as he was talking with the other dads. His broad shoulders draped in an olive t-shirt and his nice butt constricted in a cream pant. Ovulation cravings were getting out of hands. God…this man sense of fashion could kill you on the spot with how effortlessly handsome he was. A married man, older than you, with kids…but so sweet and manly… Only when you turned to help Breha you missed Anakin gazing at you from afar. 

Soon enough, Satine ran out of sodas for the kids. The Skywalker twins, Elledi and Fiari Organa, Cal Kenobi and many more kids were running in the gardens like crazy little gremlins. Tired of hearing their little voices complaining about having a glass of Fanta you took the matter in your hands and said you could go to the store. Suddenly a voice echoed.

« I got packs of Fanta in the closet at home. » proposed softly Anakin. 

« Wonderful, my dear why won’t you accompany Anakin in his house to retrieve the sodas instead of taking the car ? » said a cheerful Satine. 

« Oh…hm…yes, yes I can do that… » you stuttered a bit shy. 

« You’re coming ? » Anakin called, his keys tingling gently in his right hand.

Your gaze fixated on his veiny hands and his long fingers. Your mind went wild with how good his fingers would be buried inside your clenching pussy. Maybe they could even reach that little area deep into you where you see stars. Your arousal grew and soon you felt your cunt being wetter than ten minutes ago. Fantasizing about him as you walked behind him silently, you didn’t saw he stopped in front of you and crashed against his back. 

« Hey, hey, hey, I gotcha. » you heard before feeling strong arms wrapping against your stumbling form. You blinked at him shocked by the whole situation directly from a bad Christmas rom-com. 

« You okay, kid ? » asked Anakin his beautiful face ruined by a frown. 

« Uh…yeah, m’great thanks to you… » you muttered as you felt heat crawling on your cheeks. 

« Alright, here, the sodas are in this closet. » he pointed an open door under his stairs. You nodded looking right in his eyes as your breath hitched. Your gaze lowered at your joined chest as your breasts were pressed against his muscular pecs with how tight he was holding you. You felt his breath on your forehead and raised your head to look at him not without checking his lips. His hold on you tightened slightly and you flushed. 

You darted your eyes around the house unable to held the eye contact and as you wandered through the furniture of the closet your eyes widened.

On the shelf beside a toolbox was placed a white gardenia similar at the ones which appeared on your gardens…

To be continued….

[notmyneighbor]

instinct | doppel francis mosses x detective female reader

tnmn au

rating | explicit

part 1/?

words | 3.3k

cw | none for this chapter

summary | When you get assigned a new partner to work the latest serial killer case, you’re less than thrilled to find out it’s a doppelganger.

But with a lack of evidence, no clear suspects, and a rising body count, you have no choice but to trust the replicant posing as Francis Mosses…

ao3 link

fanart credit | kri_stasss on X

taglist | @maskedpacific @dreamndestiny

When you get assigned a new partner to work the latest serial killer case, you’re less than thrilled to find out it’s a doppelganger.

His track record is good; you can’t argue with the results he’s achieved thus far. The replicant has proven to be an invaluable resource time and again. He’s easily the most efficient doppel tracker the force has had on their side to date. Even with this evidence and history, you just don’t think it’s smart working so intimately with such a dangerous former foe. Maybe a free pass on extermination is enough of a motivating factor for turning traitor on his own kind, but if the doppel can betray that easily, it makes you wonder how long this alleged truce with humans is really going to last.

You hate to admit you’re running out of options. There are no solid leads on this case you’re working. The bodies are piling up, the DNA proving the killer is attacking both humans and doppelgangers, and the citizens are demanding protection and vengeance. You’ve seen the mayor pressuring the chief, the blustery, red faced politician’s voice carrying through the closed office door. The violent criminal has to be caught. His re-election campaign was in danger, the satisfaction rating plummeting. Use whatever resources are necessary. Yes, even that bloody doppel.

Which brings you to your current situation, where a voice behind your shoulder politely inquires what your name is, and you swivel around from your desk to see your new partner: the doppelganger himself. At first, you’re skeptical about his current appearance. A milkman? Really? This is what they’ve given you to work with? This is what’s going to assure your victory? But then you start thinking about it a little longer. This Francis Mosses, as he’s apparently going by, has access to a lot of residences. By his very nature, the false delivery man might draw out someone who would otherwise not let their guard down. The man he’s imitating looks exhausted, those slightly puffy, bruised sockets speaking volumes, but his smile is a thousand watts, warm and friendly and inviting, his voice soothing and calm. He looks trustworthy and reliable. He’s certainly easy on the eyes. Nothing a housewife is going to mind looking at, if you’re being honest. Hell, you must be overdue for a date, if you’re starting to think a replicant is attractive. Regardless, you’re forced to admit that maybe, just maybe, this is actually kind of a genius ploy after all.

You’ve narrowed down the radius of the killer’s attack locations to a specific neighborhood. Outside the city. Middle class families. Picket fences. Tidy yards. The kind of place kids sell lemonade on the sidewalk and the mothers bake cookies for the church fair fundraiser. The community is clearly shaken. You don’t see young children playing outside as you patrol the area, surveying the suburban residences, amazed at how quiet it is this late in the morning. Not even any idle chatter of neighboring women while bringing the dry laundry in from the clothesline. You can feel the tension when you park the car neatly along the curb a block away from the imposter milkman’s delivery truck. It’s as if the entire neighborhood is holding its breath, waiting.

You see the doppel you’re partnered with in the rearview mirror, approaching at a casual pace. He slides into the passenger seat smoothly, handing over a piece of paper with several addresses written on it.

“Confirmed? You’re certain?”

“All doppel occupied. But I’ve got something to tell you that you’re not going to like.”

You sigh, letting the hand clutching the paper drop heavily into your lap. “Go ahead.”

“I don’t think it’s a replicant behind this.”

You glance over at Francis’ clone. “What makes you say that?”

“Because they’re all fingering the same man. Who’s human.”

“Bullshit,” you curse dismissively.

“Why bullshit? What makes you so certain it’s a mimic doing this?”

“Because of the condition of the bodies, for one thing. Consistent with how doppels attack.”

“Or a very good imitation. A copycat of a copycat. You don’t find it strange that there are never any bite wounds on the victims?”

“Maybe the doppel wasn’t hungry.”

“We’re always hungry,” the doppelganger replies softly.

You shudder. “Yeah, well, I’ve worked my fair share of homicide cases, and I can tell you this isn’t perpetrated by a human.” You glance down at the list. “I guess we can start going door to door. Call for backup, make some arrests.”

“None of these residents are guilty. They’ve worked too hard to assimilate into the community.”

You blink in disbelief. “Is that what you think they really want? Just to be neighbors and coexist peacefully? No way. There’s only one thing they want. Everyone in this community is at risk as long as these doppels live here.”

“Do you think you know more about a doppelganger’s motives than I do?” The reprimand is gently issued, further fueling your ire.

You glare at the milkman’s copy. “Look. I know you’ve worked some cases and have helped out a lot. And I know the chief seems to trust you. I, quite frankly, don’t.”

“Then this partnership isn’t going to work out. Trust is essential.”

“Exactly.”

“What harm can it do to investigate the individual that the doppels are suspicious of?”

“Because it means potentially wasting time. Letting the true murderer claim another victim.”

“That doesn’t match the pattern, though. There’s a delay in between the killings. No one is going to fall prey for five more nights.” The replicant tugs the black brimmed cap off his head and scrubs a hand through his hair. “I think we should do a stakeout.”

Your mouth gapes in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“What about this list? You really expect me to just let these doppels go free?”

“If I’m wrong, you could always still round up the mimics. But I’m not wrong.”

“Cockiness killed the doppel,” you mutter, leaning forward slightly to start the engine.

“It’s been known to take out a few humans as well, I’d wager.” The replicant rubs his thumb over the coating of dust on the dashboard. The vehicle was long overdue for a proper cleaning.

God, he is so infuriating. “Alright. Meet me at the station around ten.”

“Nine would be better. Then we can grab a bite to eat.”

You glance at the doppel warily. “What is it you want?”

“Oh, any drive thru will do. Though I’m partial to hamburgers.” He grins, winking and then tugs on the door handle, exiting the vehicle as neatly as he’d entered.

You shake your head, easing back onto the road. You swear he’s still smiling when you check your rearview mirror.

***

You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised to see your partner wearing different clothes the next time you see him.

The milkman disguise is hardly appropriate for an evening surveillance mission. Naturally he’s shed the white uniform for a dark colored suit, and it looks…well, a lot better, to be honest. The moodier colors suit him. He greets you with that little bemused smirk of his that you’re beginning to realize is one he adopts often in your presence, and you purposefully avoid returning the gesture, entering the sedan silently.

Francis’ doppel settles beside you. “I can drive, you know.”

“Absolutely not.” You shift gears and the car peels out of the police station parking lot with a squeal of protest from the tires.

The replicant raises an eyebrow, reaching for the seatbelt and you roll your eyes. “What?” The innocent expression only irritates you further.

You detour long enough to order food for both of you, surprised when French fries and soda are part of the clone’s request.

“I didn’t think doppels ate much beyond meat.”

“We can ingest other things too. Little nutritional value, but tasty.” He sneaks a fried wedge of potato from the paper bag sitting on his lap.

“Hey. Keep your grubby paws out of the bag. We have a long night ahead of us.”

You pass the person of interest’s house and find the overgrown lot across the street at the corner a perfect place to back the car into, effectively concealing it from view.

You crack your window and look a question over at the doppel, who nods and you repeat the process for his side. The suspect’s front porch light is on and there’s a single car parked in the driveway. You’ve already run his name through the database. Unpaid parking meter, a speeding ticket, and that was it. Bachelor. Middle aged. Professor. Brief interviews with the next door neighbors revealed he was a quiet, polite man that kept mostly to himself and remained primarily indoors. Nothing particularly incriminating that you could see so far. You’re not ready to meet the man himself just yet. If this really is the one, though you still have strong doubts that this is the man who’s been eluding the authorities so successfully, it wouldn’t do to alert the possible suspect of your suspicions, lest that spook him and provoke an unfortunate reaction.

You’re aware of the heavy gaze of the doppel seated beside you and you sigh. “Yeah, go ahead. Might as well while it’s still hot.”

Needing no further instruction, the contents of the bag are quickly unpacked. You’ve opted for chicken nuggets and fries and a milkshake. He hands you your share of the meal and then samples another pair of French fries with a contented sigh.

You eat in silence after that, nibbling contemplatively, listening to the crickets chirping outside. A dog begins barking but is quickly silenced. No signs of movement in your field of vision.

“He’s not going to make a move tonight. I told you, he’s following the pattern.”

“The pattern can change.”

“Possible, but not likely.”

“He’s not our guy.”

“He is.”

You tear the paper wrapper off of a straw and shove the plastic tube through the lid of your cup, taking a large swallow. “He’s not.”

Another pause. “This case means a lot to you.”

“Of course. We’re trying to save lives.”

“But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

You glance over at the doppelganger. “What do you mean?”

“It seems like you feel you have to crack this case. You have to be the one to solve it.”

You brush some granules of salt clinging to your fingertips off on a napkin, then crumple it into a ball and thrust it back into the empty bag. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Is it because of your gender?”

Your eyes snap back to the mimic’s face. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing, as far as I’m concerned. But I understand your species seems to favor male leadership. Certain roles are seen as more suitable to what is perceived as the weaker sex.”

“I’m not weak.”

“I didn’t say you are. But that’s what it is, isn’t it?” He persists, leaning toward you slightly. “You feel the need to prove yourself. To earn respect. To be in control. That’s why you wouldn’t let me drive. I’m right, aren’t I?”

You scoff and stare hard through the windshield, refusing to concede that the replicant has hit the nail squarely on the head. “Not even close.”

The doppel hums, the contents of his cup rattling as he reaches the bottom, the straw colliding with the pile of ice chips left behind.

“You’re done already?”

Francis’ clone grins, tossing the balled up foil wrapper of his sandwich and the French fry carton back in the bag. “Yes. It was delicious.”

“As good as chomping on a human?” You don’t really expect him to respond, but he does.

“No. Not nearly. Surely you can appreciate fresher, higher quality meat is…preferable.”

“When’s the last time you had it?”

“Are you really asking me the last time I consumed human flesh?”

You set your milkshake back down in the cupholder, finding you’re rapidly losing your appetite. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“It’s been awhile,” he says vaguely, his dark eyes glittering.

Suddenly you’re very eager to change the subject. “So how did you end up getting this gig, anyway? I doubt you just waltzed into the station and asked for the job.”

“No. I happened to rescue one of your kind. From your kind, might I add,” he replies, shifting in his seat to find a more comfortable position. “Then one thing led to another. An agreement was reached. Probation period. Proven. Trusted. And now, this,” he says, spreading his fingers.

“Why did you save the human?”

He shrugs, tugging at the knot of his tie and loosening it slightly. “I don’t know, to be perfectly honest. It’s hot in here.”

“I can put the windows down more, but the mosquitoes are likely going to sneak in…”

“I’ll just take my jacket off.” He depresses the button to release the seat belt, then begins shrugging out of one sleeve of his blazer, struggling a bit within the confines of the car’s interior, nearly whacking into you with an elbow more than once. He eventually completes the task and tosses the garment on the back seat and you mirror his movements, relieved you’d had the foresight to wear a short sleeve blouse. You watch the doppel roll his shirt sleeves up and the gesture is so disarmingly natural looking, so human, that it catches you off guard. You’d never have guessed, if you didn’t already know, that he was a replicant.

“What’s wrong?” He finishes securing the last sleeve.

“Nothing. I just…” Well, it’s going to sound absurd no matter how you phrase it, so you suppose you’ll just come out and say it. “You’re convincing. As a human. The best I’ve ever seen. There are so often tells. Unnatural speech or odd mannerisms. Aberrations in appearance. But you’ve got it nailed.”

“Is that a compliment, then?”

“It’s terrifying,” you admit. “You really could take over, if there were others as adept as you.”

His lip twitches, an eyebrow slightly quirking. “Imagine if I was the enemy.”

“Oh, that part’s easy.” You reach for the straw wrapper still sitting in the cupholder and unfold it, winding it around one index finger as you gaze at the target’s house. The nearest streetlamp’s bulb begins to flicker.

“If I was, I could attack right now. Have myself a nice little dessert.”

“So what’s stopping you?” You look the challenge at the doppelganger.

“I’m not the enemy.”

You shake your head, returning to your study of the residence across the street. “Who leaves the porch light on when they’re home?”

”Maybe that’s precisely why he’s doing it. If he makes that the norm, there’s no increase in suspicion when he does leave the house. Nothing to draw extra attention to himself.”

”How do the doppels even know for certain he’s the one? If you’re implying he doesn’t make mistakes…”

”Everyone makes mistakes, sooner or later. But to answer your other question, they all positively identified the same man. I was shown the same face, over and over. Word spreads quickly among our kind. Rather necessary for survival. They’re extremely wary, especially the original witness.”

”And they didn’t think to share that information with the police? We have no other statements. No evidence. Nothing to build this case, except this new information that’s from a dubiously reliable source.”

”Do you honestly expect that they would? Listen to yourself. Given how ready you are to have them arrested, how little faith you have in their words, we both know how that situation would resolve. No. They couldn’t possibly risk it.”

”Yet they all readily spilled their guts to you.”

”I’m one of them. And it didn’t happen on the first day, as you well know. It’s taken time to establish a relationship. Earn trust.” He fiddles with the leather band of his wristwatch. “Too hot,” he mutters, pulling the strap free of the buckle and dropping the watch onto the dashboard.

”Just sit still. Stop fidgeting. You’re supposed to be paying attention.”

”It’s a little difficult to see much from this vantage point.”

”Well, we can’t go closer without being obvious. I tried to tell you this was going to be a waste of time.”

”Heads up. Front door’s opening.”

Your eyes flick back towards the house. There is indeed a man emerging, carrying a trash bag to the curb and adding it to the contents of the barrel. He looks about slim to average build. Not overly strong or muscular looking, but you know that other factors can influence the ability to inflict the kind of horrific damage the serial killer you’re tracking has achieved. Psychosis. Illegal substances. Anything was possible. You watch as the man pauses after securing the lid, his head swiveling from side to side.

”Shit. He’s made us.” You shrink down further in your seat.

”No, I don’t think so,” the doppelganger murmurs. “He’s just checking. Habitual. Cautious. See, there he goes.”

The figure returns indoors, and the interior lights go dark seconds later.

”Going to bed.”

”Maybe.” You chew your bottom lip. “I want to know what’s in that rubbish bag.”

”Might be disappointingly ordinary.”

”What happened to you being convinced this guy is guilty?”

”Oh, I’m still certain. I just don’t think he’s going to provide evidence that easily.”

”Maybe we should start talking to people at the highschool. See if anyone’s got any dirt on him.”

”Thought you didn’t believe he’s the one?”

”I don’t. But it doesn’t hurt to be thorough. I want to talk to that supposed replicant witness, too.”

”You really hate the doppels, don’t you? If those had been human testimonies, I wonder how much differently you’d have reacted. For someone who’s worried about wasting time…”

”It’s not about whether I like doppels or not. I’ve already told you, I just want to solve this case and save lives. And I shouldn’t have to keep explaining myself to you.” You straighten, using the steering wheel to push yourself upright, then glance at your companion. His hair looks damp, falling in dark tendrils across his forehead. You feel perspiration beading on your own brow. You should have put the windows further down, insects be damned. You shouldn’t have been so skeptical earlier, dismissing potentially valuable information. The replicant is right, and you hate to admit it. You are prejudiced. You do hate the doppels. You’d always had good reason to, in the past. But now? Was he not proof that there are exceptions to every rule? The mere idea that there are doppels that just want to live peacefully beside humans should have given you more pause. Can it really be true?

”The doppels are terrified of this man,” Francis’ mimic says softly, interrupting your reverie. “And that fact, alone, should be reason enough to want to work cooperatively. We’re accustomed to threats on our lives from humans, but this is different. Just brutal slaughtering, so easily done, over and over, indiscriminately…”

”It’s how we feel, all the time. Being copied. Not knowing for certain who’s human. Surrounded by lies and deception.”

”But that’s how we survive. How we exist,” the replicant protests.

”It’s how you choose to exist,” you correct. “You don’t have to kill and eat us. I mean, that’s what you’ve proven, allegedly…” Your head tips back into the cradle of the headrest. “God, I can’t believe I’m getting into a debate with you.” Your hand absently strokes the delicate gold chain at your throat. “I should have turned those doppels in already. I don’t even know what I’m doing right now.”

”Suspending disbelief. Extending trust. I know it’s difficult. It goes against your instincts. Mine. But we have to do this. We have to work together.”

You breathe deeply, exhaling a long, shuddering sigh before nodding in silent agreement.

It was going to be a long night.

[bleghxy]

GL manga recs:

Summary: Maki's first love was her high school classmate, a girl named Midori. But Midori broke up with Maki at graduation, saying they were now "too old to be fooling around dating girls." Ten years later, Maki still can’t get Midori off her mind, and when the two women reconnect after a chance encounter, Maki realizes that, while her feelings haven’t changed, Midori has long moved on—in fact, she's engaged. Yet the more Maki hears Midori talk about her soon-to-be-husband, the more red flags she notices. And Midori has another secret, one she hasn’t yet shared with Maki. Will it be the last blow to Maki's hopes that their romance might be rekindled? Or will it be the push that sets them on a new path—one they'll travel together?

Review:

There's so much depth to this. At a glance it looks like a simple story. You read the summary and think oh well it's the same old plot of getting back with your ex but it's not. It deals with heavy topics like abusive relationships, comphet and the fear of being alone. It's very realistic in its portrayal. Both of the women are very well written especially Midori.

Status: Completed

Summary: Cooking is how Nomoto de-stresses, but one day, she makes way more than she can eat by herself. And so she invites her neighbor Kasuga, who also lives alone. What will come out of this dinner invitation?

Review: This manga is such an excellent read. There's so much that I love about this manga. I don't wanna spoil it so I'm gonna let you find out on your own. It points out the troubles women face due to the stereotypical portrayal of them in society. There's a good amount of discussion on lgbt especially on Nomoto's end. I won't say much about Kasuga because I don't wanna mistakenly spoil her past. There are also new characters in vol 3 who are as well written as the main characters. The women in this story are very well written! I really recommend this one! Also trigger warnings are given before anything heavy or disturbing is mentioned in this manga.

Status: Ongoing

Summary: Dani's promising future as an elite athlete is cut short when, during the middle of the television broadcast competition, her heart collapses. This ordeal will not only affect her health, but also destroy her relationship with her mother and skip her tennis career. In order to get away from the hustle and bustle of the big city and all its problems, she decides to go with her cousin to the small coastal town Levant and it is there where she will meet Blanca, a girl full of life and love for astronomy who will remind her that life can be beautiful and that Dani can shine again as the stars do.

Review: This is very short but still a good read. Even though I wished it were longer, it still managed to carry out the development between the two main characters. The only issue I had with this is, since the manga is very short, it fails to properly carry out the development between Dani and her mom.

Status: Completed

If you want more GL recs:

[marxism-leninism-meowism]

i am conflicted over the way we say people have "lost their humanity" or "are not human" when they commit horrible acts, such as genocide.

because what is humanity if not this dynamic range of intelligence that allows us to commit both unspeakable evil and selfless good? have animals ever committed genocide? if these people are animals then they would perhaps be aggressive—but that would not explain their intentional manslaughter done not out of necessity, but out of hatred.

an animal may kill to eat. an animal may kill to protect themselves when another animal attempts to kill and eat them. an animal may commit individual acts of violence. but you would not see a pride of lions hunting gazelles to extermination. you would not see bears rounding up thousands of wolves and killing them because they are a "threat" to their sources of food.

genocide is an inherently human act. we need to stop pretending like it isn't because that is exactly how the cycle repeats itself. we think only inherently evil and inhuman people would commit genocide, or urge one on, but it could be your next door neighbor that brought you cookies as a housewarming gift. it could be the mayor campaigning for free housing for the unhoused. it could be anyone. that's the point. we're all human. separating yourself from the ones you deem evil only serves to perpetuate this endless repetition of history.

my point is not that humans are inherently bad, either. humans can be good. humans can be evil. humans can be anywhere in between that dichotomy or lie outside of it entirely. we are intelligent, sentient beings. what we do with this intelligence, this sentience? it's up to us.

to commit genocide is a choice that humans make. they are not monsters. they are just human. and to be frank, i think the reason people often avoid this concept is because that is far more terrifying than writing off all people that commit heinous acts as inhuman monsters.