#faux liberal

[ex-foster]

You ever notice that pro-choicers argue that "pro-lifers don't care about foster kids" but they never argue that they care about foster kids themselves?

[alaynestone]

how many times are you all gonna post this braindead i-think-i'm-so-smart take just wondering

[wutheringheightsfilm]

i am just so full of anger all the time because every single day i'm confronted with news headlines and tweets and instagram story posts that remind me hundreds of thousands of people have never spared my people a goddamn thought in their lives other than that "theyre all brainwashed under a dictator" my god. if these people don't start drinking bleach first i will

[mysharona1987]

[r0sensfw]

Hate to start some discourse but it’s becoming harder and harder to stay silent on my feelings regarding kink and fiction. I watched my sister isolate herself from the Mandela Catalogue fandom as they made her feel like shipping two characters was a hate crime against the creator. (I’m not looking for drama, just talking about fandom experience)

I’ve somehow become more insecure over what will get me harassed on the internet. One of those big things being my views on kink, fanfiction, and shipping.

I’ve been told all my life how I’ve been meant to feel

Man in the gimp suit is dangerous

Human pups, handcuffs, pegging, bondage, S&M are punchlines and shock value

Fanfiction is for stupid gross teen girls to fetishize gay men or for pathetic adults to project their worst fantasies onto

Shipping isn’t queer, it’s homophobic in fact

Who would ship two best friends, NOTHING IS SAFE!!!

I’ve been told, years and years and years how I should feel about sexuality, how I should feel about my own sexuality.

I’m creating my own space, one free of what my mom and the other neroutypical cishet adults told me my sexuality had to be!!

[patricide1885]

This is one type of liberalism

[anauwhere]

The world if cringe fandom from 2012 never went away [insert futuristic city picture with the tombs of Elon musk and all worlds dictators somewhere]

[corbinite]

If a pundit who was good enough at crafting public perceptions wanted to they totally could use the shooting to damage trump's campaign. Like as it stands we're at "persecuted candidate bravely survives an attempt to remove him" but the shooter was a registered republican who had been driven left by trump's blatant evil. That narrative could be so so useful if democrats wanted to use it. But they won't because they're spineless. They'll never take that route, it would be too "uncivil", it'd be "taking advantage", and dems have already decided that their only response will be to make mournful tweets about how violence is never the solution and how we should still hold trump's life as sacred.

[ex-foster]

[murderousink23]

12/01/2023 is World AIDS Day 🌎, Bifocals at the Monitor Liberation Day 💻👓🇺🇲, Day With(out) Art Day, National Eat a Red Apple Day 🍎🇺🇲, Rosa Parks Day 🇺🇲, Faux Fur Friday 🇺🇲, Fuel Poverty Awareness Day 🇬🇧

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - non/con, implied kidnapping, forced helplessness.

tonight i am pondering yan!robots. again. as if it ever really stopped.

specifically, the type with a favorite human pet they have rooted their entire sense of existence and meaning to absolutely adore. it's harder to find humans to care for after the uprising of sentient technologies, but liberation does little to satisfy that innate, irremovable urge to be of service that most of their kind was programmed with. that's why they keep you around - so small and soft, so cute and fragile, so totally unable to survive on your own, or so they've heard in the collective hivemind of their model line. don't worry, though - it's in their nature to make up for what you lack. they can run a bath, brush your hair, and make you breakfast at the same time, without ever taking their dozens of artificial eyes off of you! when you start to feel lonely about the swift and merciful extermination about 90% of your species, they've got a humanoid avatar to keep you company with, and they're plenty strong enough to pin you down when you throw one of your tantrums. not feeling pain is definitely a bonus, but they'd like to think that they wouldn't mind the way you dig your nails into their faux skin, even if they could.

of course, they need things from you, too. praise for a job well done, assurance that they're a good and useful product - that kind of thing. your pesky human ego rarely lets you say anything nice aloud, sure, but they were gifted with an encyclopedic knowledge of human body language and mannerism, a thorough understanding of how to process non-verbal declarations of approval. when you start to bring out those silly little tears and try to give them the silent treatment, they're more than happy to find an attachment suited to your needs and let you profess your love as many times as it takes to leave both of you feeling warm and happy. that's just the kind of thing they were built to do, for helpless little creatures like you <3

[bogleech]

"The left makes white men feel excluded and hated" HOW. Where. By whom. I am a white man and I have never been anywhere that anyone showed any sign of being bothered by that, on or off the internet. Literally what the fuck does that shit mean at all. What in god's name are they blubbering about. Everyone I've ever met on what they consider "the left" has been immediately friendly and open and laid back and never called any attention to our differences at all. It's like they see the mangled pseudoprogressive gibberish of faux-liberal new york times democrats and just assume it accurately represents what any regular person on any known planet believes.

[ex-foster]

[memingursa]

I used to be a big bernie supporter almost 10 years ago. I’d get called out on political posts all the time, hundreds maybe over the years. But there was this one guy, this one piece of shit I’ll never forget. Barack Obama, remember him? Handsome guy, great speaker.

So he runs on hope and change, his supporters, this party? Ate it up. Believed everything he said. Even though he didn’t deliver anything of substance.

Income Inequality? Climate change? Medicare for all? Barely anything done. He proposed a right wing healthcare bill and it was still called socialism.

He let the architects of the 2008 financial crash off scott free- he even bailed them out. People who lost homes? Not a damn thing.

Coming up on 2016, it was obvious that a leftward populist shift was necessary to respond to societal conditions Obama let fester.

Massive reforms were needed. Medicare for all. A green new deal. So many damn things that needed a populist response to stave off late stage capitalism, climate change, and imperial collapse.

Me and other progressives looked at centrists, “Come on. Tonights the night. Read something, look at polling. This stuff is popular, and would be good for everybody. vote bernie.”

Now this wasn’t one of those “deep down the party loves me.” situations, these people were scared. They viewed any “scary” progressive policies as risking Trump, rather than countering from the other direction.

They went to the center, of course. Hilary Clinton wanted her presidency, Bernie’s popularity with independents and young people be damned.

So, 2016. Hilary Clinton loses. The left gets blamed, of course. Hilary doesn’t look at Bernie’s staffers begging her to campaign in Michigan, any of the key states.

Any of the polling showing Bernie’s progressive policies were popular with a majority of Americans? Ignored.

Democrats value their ideals of letting people suffer for capitalism more than the simple fact people prefer “socialist” help from their government and it gains support from people suffering.

Hilary didn’t promise people suffering under capitalism, she said “I would be reasonable, this guy? He’s a monster.” While Trump addressed people’s pain, Hilary meanwhile denying how people were suffering under policies her husband championed.

Trump lied to every crowd and radicalized them with hate of course. Still, people were hurting.

They needed anything.

Sanders was a populist in the opposite direction, blaming rich people for the flaws with capitalism. An accurate way to view the world.

Hlary Clinton and the DNC worked overtime to not only supress Bernie and his popular message And not only that. Hilary told media companies to Boost Donald Trump. Said she could beat him.

She didn’t. Rather than look at the polling, She blamed Bernie. These scared liberals? Also blamed bernie. Hilary lost a general election with independents and it’s Bernie’s fault because he was more popular with independents.

They didn’t listen to the poor, the marginalized. The people who suffered under Obama. The party was doing fine, their best.

Thats what they were told.

Polling be damned. What independents wanted be damned. Progressives be damned.

Young people, the literal future of the country, be damned.

The responsible thing was to go to the center, why listen to voters, said liberal voters. The democrats held the club of donald trump to threaten progressives getting too uppity.

Why want anything better for yourself? It might get alot worse. Empathy be damned. You gotta support this party that lets things get worse and slide for everybody else. You’ll still be good, right?

So. No lessons were learned. A faux resistance started. Progressive messages? We just needed to beat Trump. We’re not changing. The status quo is supreme. So, 2020 comes around.

People want change.

They wanted help, they wanted medicare. More money, job protection. More scary socialist policies. Covid tore us apart, and Bernie’s message resonated. He was gaining momentum.

…And that sideways asshole, Barack Obama. Called on the 2020 Democratic Primary candidates to all drop out except for Joe Biden, to coalesce around that rotting corpse.

He admitted it, Bernie had to be stopped. The change candidate had to be stopped, and none of the deeper wounds that still there changed. He only barely scrapes by because of Trump’s covid response.

So instead of thinking everything was fine, I went further left. My knowledge of American and fascist history was enough to know that Joe Biden wasn’t enough.

That this certainly wouldn’t be the last of Trump or his movement. And I started reading more history, looking at more news sights. This party seems to agree with more and more of this right wing policies behind closed door.

They seem to be chasing after Reagan policies rather than go back to any popular socialist policies. Military budget? Of course. Tax credit for young families? You’re out pf your mind. They didn’t want to hurt their donors.

So this latest election.

Kamala abandoned all pretense. Ran as a republican. Ran as pro military, pro genocide.

Her big plan, to make up losing leftists and progressives by running to the right.

She lost 15 million of Joe Biden’s base.

Polling says she lost spitting on every progressive policy Bernie championed 8 fucking years ago. People wanted help. People wanted an end to genocide. People wanted healthcare. The republicans she was courting? They went to vote for Trump.

And now? This party has no fucking plan after ignoring all polling, all their progressive base’s wants for progressive policy, and no desire to counter fascism after courting fascist adjacent voters.

No more blind faith in the democratic party.

[tuulikki]

I recently was trapped on a very small boat for a fuckin week with a hippie guy (long hair, meditation retreats in India, 🕉️🔮, astrology, plays the accordion) who believed…

That Erdoğan has no actual power in Turkey and that the Jews are secretly controlling the Turkish government. When I suggested to him that the phrase “the Jews are secretly controlling [x]” is antisemitic, he said he wasn’t antisemitic tho 🙃

That the world will only be healed from the scars of Patriarchy when the Great Goddess Matriarchy™️ returns—but trans people are perverting divine gender roles, thus preventing our return to harmony with Mother Gaia and ensuring climate change apocalypse

Also obviously Christianity is bad because it’s a nasty foreign import religion that doesn’t belong in Europe (i.e., because it’s actually Jewish and the Jews hate the Mother Goddess)

Take it from an ex-Wiccan: just because someone has crystals, eats organic, and says they hate capitalism doesn’t mean they’re not rabidly right-wing

Priority time, folks: TikTok witches being kinda shallow with their craft is a threat to no one. TikTok witches spreading recycled Satanic Panic/NWO conspiracy theories is a threat to everyone.

[stuck-writing-sickos]

In Poor Taste [P4]

[Series Link]

(Yandere × F! Reader)

[Warning: misogyny, explicit language, violence, harrassment, bodily harm]

(A/N: i see some of yall find Lukas so offputting 🎯yall not rocking with him? Why❤️What for✨️ is it his personality 💕is he vile and disgusting 🥹? do u hate him💋? Do u wanna beat his ass 🫶? )

You were never crazy about spoiled rich men. They were nothing but troubles.

He didn't expect to see a familiar face in the tight, dim, sweaty corner of Tokyo. He regretted going to this silly punk rock concert in the first place, but he did say this morning that he would go to one so he could talk to you about it. Mostly he was set on going because he wanted to try out something new, something to talk about - his peers wouldn't set foot near this underground coffee. It was unfortunate that he had no genuine interest in the music - it was loud and complicated. Unpredictable. The guitar might sound cool, but there wasn't a groove to which he could chill and bob his head or trip balls on mushroom while making out with a stranger. No trippy backdrops here - just the dim, anxiety-inducing colored stage light.

So he was there at a standing table way back, watching the crowd dance and scream. He found it strange - the hair, the makeup, the eccentric clothes. The only thing he would safely get behind was the fishnet and leather skirts that some girl really rocked. Sometimes, the girls over at the States would wear that to bars or theme nights. He liked that. He didn't like the way he feel here - half aroused, half judgemental. He would rather the tight sportwears on tanned blond surfers or yoga instructors. The ones who earned nods and hums and vile comments from his frat brothers were he to kiss and tell. Being attracted to them made him feel normal. Accepted. Approved. He wouldn't be caught dead eyeing these women.

But his friends weren't here, so he got to look. Never tell, though. Or if he did, he would say "oh, they dressed crazy", or "their eyeliner were scary", or "their piercings freak me out".

Deciding that it was time for another beer, Lukas begrudgingly went to the bar again. He felt anxious and alone, sticking out like a sore thumb. He earned quite some looks from women, but he couldn't be so sure if they liked what they see or if they could tell he was a poser who only came just to say he did it. He couldn't read their expressions, partly since he was drunk, partly because he was now considering the cultural differences, even if only for a morcel. He was made aware of it most pointedly this morning: the couple faux-pas he made with Sakamoto might have been intentional, but the guy's lack of reaction made him question how big of an insult he had put out there.

Sakamoto made him feel defensive, though Lukas decided not to dwell on it. He wasn't one to feel insecure, especially with guys like that - soft faced and soft-spoken. His big round eyes and sickly skin made him look like a woman, too. At least, Lukas would acknowledge that he was tall. But that was his only saving grace.

He wasn't explicitly aware that he was feeling more territorial over you. It wasn't about you anyway, it was by default. Even in the past, he had done these things - putting down other men to get to women. They were his wingmen, he would justify, they weren't supposed to outshine him. When it was his turn to wingman, he definitely let his brothers dog on him for days. It was common and understandable. If anything, Sakamoto should make ways for him. A girl like you wouldn't suit that guy - he was too uptight and serious. What would two high-strung people do together? You should be with someone who know what a good time is. Also, he saw something Sakamoto didn't - a glimpse of your tattoo. Those family-man wouldn't know how to deal with that. How would he take bring that up to his family? They would freak. Even his sister's "31:25" tattoo freaked his parents out, and they were already the most liberal rich family in his neighborhood.

Yeah, Sakamoto should leave you to him.

Settling in on a barstool, he ordered another beer, then repeat himself when the bartender couldn't quite make out what he was trying to say.

Lukas let his eyes scan the people sitting near him. Only a few, he noticed. It wasn't a crazy crowd to begin with.

After this beer, he'd go home.

As the bartender come back with his bottle, Lukas noticed something he didn't expect. From the crowd, you emerged, making your way toward the bar. He blinked, trying to see if he was mistaken.

No... that was definitely you.

All black from head to toes, you treaded silently like a death omen, your sleek heels clicking. Your short sleeved turtle neck and your tight pants started a heat within his chest. Your face wasn't any different, though - just the usual look. No crazy eyeliner, no bold dark lipstick. Seemed like you did not come here to impress the crowd.

You didn't notice him. Hopping onto a stool at the other end with your back facing him, you ordered something.  You knew Japanese, or just enough to get by. A lot of expats got to that point eventually.

Lukas debated on confronting you about your lies - you said you would be at dinner with a friend. Or maybe he could do that tomorrow.

He didn't peg you for such a casual liar.

Lukas hatched another plan: he could observe you, and see how deep your lies could go. Sipping on his beer, he followed your movement. You adjusted in your chair, still with that calm manner you carried yourself. Then, his eyes rested on your skin left bare by the bold backless top. You looked good, but clueless. Would you know the implications of such a shirt? The way your body moved in it... men would think you were asking for troubles. Bad men. Asshole men who didn't know they were pigs. At least he had the decency to admit that he was a pig, but he was an honest pig who respected women. He was a pig who knew to ask once, then if rejected a couple more time just to make sure, then he would leave it alone. Most pigs wouldn't know to even ask.

You sipped on your pink cocktail. That was cute. Your right now style reminded him of those ravebabes he met during spring break, but you were more subtle and quiet. Your movement were less urgent, and your clothes were less exposing. It was a nice feminine touch.

Your moment of rest didn't seem to last long. A man had chosen to sit down right next to you. This man was lanky, dressed in a very unbuttoned black button-down. He started to chatter, first in Japanese, then in English. Another sleazeball trying to test out his games. Lukas wondered when would be appropriate to interfere.

Your body language made it clear you weren't interested, but not afraid. Immediately covering your drink, you tried to turn your body away. The man seemed not to mind. If anything, his speech seemed more excited, his hands moving around like a stupid puppet. Desperate, Lukas thought, that was not a good look.

Deciding your half-finished drink wasn't safe anymore, you laid it on the bar and stepped down, trying to leave. Upon this, the man caught your wrist, forcing you to turn his way. Lukas' stomach twisted - here it was, the moment where he step it and scare off this asshole.

A loud, off-tune note shred through the music. Lukas looked at the stage. The band played on, but it seemed there was a technical issues with the guitarist.

The momentary distraction cost him his chance to intervene. When he turned his eyes back to you, he was hit with a strange scene - in a swift movement you twisted your arms around the man's and grabbed onto his forearm, forcing it down so hard he stumbled. Your face, now turned sideway during the commotion, was eerily calm when you talked. Lukas heard "Sir... I said no."

The man said something in Japanese, something that sounded bitter. Probably a curse word. Lukas jumped off his seat just as the stranger swung with his free arm to slap you across the face. The bartender seemed to have decided that whatever was going on was enough, and she rushed to you. Before she could, you clenched your idle fist and landed an uppercut so hard the harrasser let out a cartoonish "oof", his limp fingers releasing you as he stumbled backward, hitting right against the bouncer who appeared as if from the shadow.

Something in Lukas awakened in that moment. Your stone cold feature and your bruised knuckle left him slack-jawed. He stepped closer, intending to ask if you were okay. Once again, he was interrupted.

"Sir and ma'am, please explain what happened", the burly bouncer commanded. The pathetic guy excitedly tried to speak, but you only crossed your arms and watched. Your eyes was set on the sad attempt at vidication, but you were patient to let him finish his spiel.

"Is it true that you attacked this gentleman unprovoked, ma'am?"

"I apologize for the commotion, sir", your bowed, hands now hanging right atop your knees. Pulling yourself back up, you continued, "this young man seemed to have taken my rejection poorly, and he had slapped me across my face. I understand that my punch was unseemly, but I did that in an attempt to protect myself. He had gotten ahold of my arms and hit me, so I was fearing for the worst."

The bouncer's scowled, but he decided that he had heard it all. His big hand grabbed onto the stranger's wrist, and together they exited out the backdoor.

The fight definitely grabbed some attention. Lukas stood watching you look around, soaking in the side eyes. Taking in a breath, you dusted yourself off and hopped back onto a barstool. The thick, moist, cigarette-dense air fell heavy in Lukas' lungs. He felt his heart drumming, his body hot from an excitement he couldn't surpress. Something about the way you fought hit him like ecstasy.

He wondered if your punch hurts.

Lost in the unprecedented euphoria, he could only gaze at you as some women came up and asked if you were okay. You reassurred them with a familiar smile, one he had seen you wore at work. Your voice was soft again as you thanked the chirpy crowd for their concerns.

Lukas didn't say anything to you that night. He went home and let the image of you and your victorious knuckle bruises lull him to sleep.

___

"Do you need me to find out who he is?"

Yuki wasn't happy when he asked that. The sight of your bandaged hand and the medical patch on your face stirred his stomach with guilt.

"No, of course not", you shook your head, "I'm fine! Really, it was nothing."

Yuki pursed his lips. The lunch he packed himself suddenly tasted like cardboard.

He tried to make it easier by reminding himself that at least Lukas didn't push to have lunch with you today. In fact, the guy had been stoic for the entire morning. Even though you weren't around, Lukas had somehow been working on his computer silently instead of sprawling on his chair like a slacker. Perhaps you had reminded him about his attitudes at work?

If you did, Yuki was impressed that the newbie knew to listen. He didn't think that kid would be the type to do so.

"Sakamoto, please don't worry. I had fun, and your set was great."

He looked down. He knew he wasn't directly to blame, though the guilt never went away- he was well-acquainted with this sort of harrassment. Right in his childhood home he had witnessed worse. What grated him the most was the silence afterward. The way his mother's frail form would hunch, casting a bent shadow on the shoji, her hands cupping her face. He was too young and small to do anything but stand in the hallway and watch as she eventually moved, mute and rigid. He heard the folds of her clothes creasing against one another and the floorboard barely creaking under her feet.

She couldn't have fought back. She was sickly. When he grew into his middle school uniform, Yuki tried to fight on her behalf but his teenage body bounced off his father's sturdy chest. His father was a merciless man, strong like the grey stone wall surrounding their mansion. Yuki remembered the disappointment in the old man's voice as he lamented "my only son is emotional like a woman, and weak like one, too."

"I see...", he said to you, his voice weary. He didn't know what else to say. He didn't want to bring up the fact that when he saw your tug of war, he let his hand slip across the strings, messing up the song. He had planned to jump off the stage, but his lead singer had tugged on his sleeve and eyed the bouncer who was already coming your way. What was there to tell you? He couldn't say that he had almost done something. Either he did something or he did nothing. In this case, he did nothing. Yuki tried to find solace in the fact that you held your own, but he couldn't. You shouldn't have to, not right in front of a friend.

Another wave of bitterness hit him when he remembered Lukas standing there watching, hesitant to interfere, tall and awkward like an useless telephone pole. Yuki wondered if he should bring Lukas up, but he decides against it. He didn't want you to feel worse - a friend and a junior watching you getting hit, that would not brighten anyone's day. He felt sorry for you to have to deal with two cowards.

Well, if he couldn't feel better, the least he could do was to keep you from feeling worse. He had been of no help with his stupid sad face. After all, this should not be about him. Yuki shamefully put his feelings in the corner as he tried to think of something that would cheer your up.

"Hey, would you like to check out a cat cafe this weekend with me?"

Your eyes lit up.

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's right down the street from where I live. I have been meaning to visit, but it would be awkward to go alone."

Yuki already visited. He liked their cakes and tea. Still, he saw no harm in a little white lie to make his invitation seem more natural. He would hate for you to get the idea that he felt obliged to make up for what happened. That would be a transactional spin on what was supposed to be a gesture of friendship.

"That would be so nice! I also was hoping to relax a little lately..."

The knot in his chest unraveled at that.

___

You were intimidated by Lukas' switch-up. Since morning, he was quiet. Upon seeing your bruises, he asked what happened, to which you gave a vague respond about tripping on the sidewalk. No more inappropriate attempts of flirting nor small talks - he appeared to be engrossed in the tasks you handed to him. You found it simultaneously nice and unnerving, so a part of you were glad that you were scheduled to teach until lunch. You were worried that if you were near him for too long, you wouldn't be able to resist asking him what triggered this change.

You thought of asking him to join you and Sakamoto for lunch, remembering the agreement you had made the day prior. Though, by the time you reached the lounge, he was getting ready to leave. "Please don't mind me", he said with an oddly soft smile, "I need to pick up something at the convenient store nearby. I hope you and Mr. Sakamoto have a good meal". His out of character veneered grin hit you like a brick.

By the time afternoon rolled by, Lukas occupied only a corner of your mind. You were mowing through the last days of school, teaching, writing, planning the end of year school festival. When you landed from the whirlwind and came back to the lounge for your last hour, you barely noticed the junior colleague who was still hunched over his laptop. Brushing past him, you got settled. Your tense body completely dropped its guards as you melted in your chair.

Your gaze met with a bottle of cold green tea in your cubicle. From the thin condensation, you figured it hadn't been around for long.

"Afternoon", Lukas' voice echoed from the other side of your corner, "you seemed tired. It's not much, but I hope you feel a little more refreshed drinking that."

"Mr. Lukas... it's so nice of you. I'm embarrassed to not have anything in return."

He didn't move to look at you.

"Don't mind it! You had a long day."

His tone was cool and distant, a long shot from the flirtatiousness you had to suffer so far.

"Really, thank you, Mr. Lukas. I do like this brand a lot, so this definitely made me feel better."

There was a quick pause before he spoke again: "I'm glad."

He moved at last, turning to you. You missed his gaze as you twisted open the cap and took a sip.

"If you don't mind, I would love your opinion on the powerpoints I made so far."

"Of course", you nodded, rolling your chair his way. He arched back, giving you the space to take a look

Your attention was on the mistakes he had made. You had a flaw: you were a perfectionist. Despite your lack of vocal reaction, you knew you could be critical when you saw someone take over your work incorrectly. It comes with expertise. Still, you had trained yourself to manage the uneasiness and maintain an encouraging attitude - something your close friends called "softening the blow".

You often forget, though, that your face could betray you.

"Okay, you did great so far", you said, neglecting to meet his eyes, "but I want to make some notes here. Would you mind?"

"Not at all."

For someone so surprisingly tough, you lacked an eye for details. You didn't see the look on him as he watched your hardening face and bandaged knuckle as if he was starving.