"Scratch A Liberal And A Fascist Bleeds."

"Scratch a liberal and a fascist bleeds."

Tried, true, and tested.

Hamas has taken about 200 people (settler-colonial conscripts and reservists, might I add) as hostages, the liberals keep clamoring from the top of their high-horses. Israel has had about 2 million Palestinians as hostages for about 7 decades, upon whom every brutality under the sun has been inflicted with full impunity and no consequences. They live in the largest open-air-prison/concentration camp in the world. The same camp that's currently facing genocide by the western world's complete support.

However, liberals are calling this a "both-sides issue", one that's complicated, and that peace should be the goal. (Never mind the fact that, without any long-term and tangible solution, even if the ceasefire is enforced, the Palestinians just return to their previous condition: a concentration camp where they're slowly ethically cleansed.) Israel, on the other hand, commands one of the top militaries in the world: it's fully backed by state-of-the art military-arsenal that's supplied to it by USA and EU and billions of dollars in aid to boot. (One of the report, which covered weapons manufacturing and supply from 2011 to 2014, a couple of years back showed that the profit from the weapons supplies from EU to conflict zones in the Middle East is in trillions.)

Whilst Hamas or Hezbollah don't possess even the tiniest fraction of that, just reused and/or old equipment and many young men whose lives have been utterly destroyed in the wake of Israel's relentless, brutal, and barbaric terrorism that's singular in its savagery. So much so, that they don't even care about their own lives. That ought to be a moment of introspection for the white liberals: why would any young man cast away his life if he wasn't completely without hope? That doesn't elicit any empathy, sympathy, or even a twinge of compassion from them. No, it's the rave-party goers and settlers that get sympathy as these liberals can see themselves as partying, enjoying life, and being the "good soldiers" fighting in the name of freedom, democracy, and stability (pink-washing is a happy after-effect of this sham); and that's the heart of their racism, their inability to humanize people that experience extreme oppression.

Why? Their worlds stand on oppression; hence, it's the evil they accept, perpetrate, and endorse. Let's not mollify this reality. It's racism, oppression, and subjugation in its most violent form; and they're aware that, if Palestine wins today, they might have to face the music for their own complicity in the western world's forever wars, neocolonialism, and economic slavery. The holy-trinity of unscalable brutalities that have cost MENA over 20 million lives in just the last 2 decades, and this doesn't include the on-going genocides in Sudan, Syria, Yemen, etc.; or the deplorable conditions these righteous, white-supremacy-fueled wars, sanctions, and political over-throws have left them in. It's the tomorrow that necessitates this genocide for them, ensures their future, and sustains their worlds. If Palestine wins, their own western world is cast in doubt because one repercussion can open doors for many more. The fear of retaliation.

They want Palestine to be crushed, so that this genocide can serve as an example for uprisings to come: this is what you'd get for resisting; for fighting back; for trying to even the odds; and for, as they gloat, fucking around and finding out. They don't want a just world; no, they want a peaceful world about them, one in which the oppressed remain just that; and, if they dare to stand on their own feet, they're erased. (The media coverage and the uproar from the white world in the wake of that tiny attack on Israel ought to tell you as much: it's loud, noisy, and jarring, like a booming echo that refuses to cease, in comparison to tiny whispers that are uttered when Palestinians are brutalized en masse and have been subjected to that for decades.)

And now, they're worried about their elections. How nice. The UN shows itself to be a sham, allowing for MENA to finally see it for what it is, an ineffectual organization that's done nothing but legitimize the western world's endless tyranny. It's mask-off with these people who're liberals in times of peace and monstrous fascists in crisis that even slightly affects them. Palestine's just that threshold now, beyond which a free world exists for MENA or a free world for them. It's us against them now, and history would favor the bold.

From river to the sea, Palestine will be free!

More Posts from Freezingflames7 and Others

freezingflames7

1 year ago

They're bombing Al Shifa AGAIN. The hospital was barely functional. But because it was serving people in any capacity, they decided to bomb it, force everyone out, and then hunt them in the streets. The zionazi terrorists will not stop until every Palestinian in Ghazzah is dead or displaced. Its been 6 months of zionist terrorism and mass destruction. And it will continue until the zionist terrorist entity falls. March 18th 2024.

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freezingflames7

9 months ago

modality t/w: dv, murder

Harry was not sure what happened.

One minute, Harry was absentmindedly folding laundry, tucking and stacking his relatives’ clothing into three neat piles. He was daydreaming, imagining escaping the Dursley household. He would leap onto his broom, would fly off into the great unknown by himself and never ever have to see their miserable faces again. Then again, it was his last summer at No. Four Privet Drive; the building anticipation of finally getting to leave this forsaken place was becoming near painful.

The next minute, without warning, Vernon Dursley flew into the laundry, flesh puce and spittle spraying, crowding Harry against the wall and lurching forward to grab Harry’s biceps with punishing strength.

“You stupid, stupid boy,” Vernon hissed, nails digging through fabric, hands bruising.

“W-what?” Harry stammered, eyes wide, alarmed at having been yanked from his daydream so abruptly. Harry’s mind raced over the last few days – he hadn’t done anything!

“You told your little friends to watch you, didn’t you?” Vernon raged, his grip tightening as he yanked Harry's smaller frame too close for comfort. “I saw them! Standing out there! As if they had a right to be on my driveway, on my private property! You think you can intimidate me? You think I’m scared of your lot?” Vernon screamed, shaking Harry harshly.

Harry gaped at Vernon, eyes wide with astonishment and horror. He could smell it now – the hint of whisky on the furious man’s breath, the crazed whites of his eyes rolling. Vernon did not drink often, and it was for good reason. He was a terrible drunk.

“Uncle Vernon,” Harry answered lowly, desperately attempting to remain calm, staring up through his eyelashes at the hysterical man. “I didn’t ask them to be there, but they are. For everyone’s protection, including yours.”

“How fucking dare you, you ingrate,” Vernon roared in Harry’s face. Vernon slammed Harry against the wall as Harry choked on an inhale, the breath struck out of him. Harry frantically, fearfully recalled what had happened the last time Vernon was drunk, remembered the loud slapping of flesh, snapping of bone –

Harry felt panic swell as a knot in his throat, felt his nerves tingle painfully up his spine. If this were anyone else, Harry would have squirmed until he had shoved them off or cast wandlessly, but there was something so… So oddly terrifying about Vernon, something instinctive and cowering that had been beaten into him from a young age. Harry knew he should fight back, and yet he froze - don’t fight back it will make it worse just stay still don’t move don’t move - and Harry felt the bones in his arms now beginning to creak with the pressure of Vernon’s grip. Harry’s lips parted on a wordless, silent cry, rational thought telling him to call out for help but a childhood of experience and instinct keeping him silent - don’t move don’t move stay small and quiet -

“I’m going to kill you, you miserable little snot, you ruined everything, everything!” Vernon was babbling, one hand yanking off Harry’s arm and wrapping around Harry’s neck with unrestrained strength as he pinned Harry to the wall. “Your whore mother getting herself knocked up, that stupid bitch, and your fucking useless father – ”

Harry felt a loud keening whine of panic and horror well up in his chest, Vernon’s purpling grip sealing off his throat and his weight crushing Harry’s chest.

Shit, Harry thought dazedly, realising that his Uncle was actually going to suffocate him. After all this time, it wasn’t going to be Voldemort who got to him – it was going to be muggle Drill Salesman of 1994 Vernon Dursley who murdered The Chosen One. If Harry could breathe, he would have laughed in hysterical disbelief. The world was beginning to blacken a bit at the edges.

Are you going to let him kill you? A voice hissed in Harry’s mind, surprising Harry out of his numb, detached shock. Harry stared at Vernon through unseeing eyes, mind burning as the oxygen in his blood evaporated. A muggle. How pathetic, the voice continued, laconic and lazily amused.

It was as if a bolt of energy revitalised Harry - what on earth was he doing, why was he not fighting back -

Voldemort, Harry recognised distantly, struggling against his uncle’s tight hold.

He will kill you, Voldemort replied, somehow sounding so very far away despite being in Harry’s own head. Harry didn’t reply, weakly struggling against his uncle. Harry realized he was very close to death – he hadn’t breathed for too long.

Help, Harry felt himself think weakly, not even sure to who he was calling out. Harry knows Voldemort won’t help, the idea near laughable, but he’s hoping that the guards outside the house might hear his magic’s weak cry for aid.

Disgusting. I will help, if only because my supposed equal dying by muggle hands is too pathetic an ending to bear, Voldemort replied dryly.

In the moments between a heartbeat, Vernon seized as if electrocuted and jerked back from Harry. Vernon turned a horrid pale shade, choked loudly once, and fell over backward like a stiff plank of wood, a loud slapping thump vibrating the floor as he collapsed. And then Harry was gasping for breath, barely holding himself up against the wall as his weak knees bore the brunt of his weight with abruptness. Harry blinked the spots out of his eyes, tears tracking down his cheeks, inhaling in rough gasps through his bruised throat.

Harry’s gaze flickered down dazedly to Vernon Dursley on the cold tile of the laundry, Vernon’s eyes glazed and expression muted in half-horror.

Harry shuddered as he looked down at the dead man at his feet, a strange and shameful feeling of overwhelming relief coursing through his veins. Vernon was dead. The bully of his childhood was nothing more than a cooling, hollow shell of a corpse.

Dumbledore left you with these people? Voldemort hissed through Harry’s mind, a monster lurking and pacing in the shadow of his consciousness. The voice turned amused, victorious, Ah, but I know where you are, Harry Potter.

Harry pushed against the wall and leapt over Vernon’s body, racing for his bedroom. He could feel it, the enchantment breaking down around him. His mother’s love no longer protected him here; it finally recognized that despite his blood coursing through his relatives’ veins, there was no love here.

I am coming, Harry Potter, Voldemort warned, a cold, high-pitched laugh echoing endlessly in Harry's head, and then Voldemort was gone from Harry’s mind.

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freezingflames7

1 year ago

Some time ago I’ve drawn the best (or the hottest hah) prefect for the banshee_.shop (inst) 💚

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freezingflames7

1 year ago

How do you draw them so good 😩

tomarry💚❤️

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freezingflames7

3 months ago

nothing is better than crying in your enemy's lap

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freezingflames7

1 year ago

JHFHCkjbvhdsvjdzsf

"Teach me to lead?" "What ever for? You'll never dance with anyone but me again."

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freezingflames7

9 months ago

Minister (Dark Lord) Tom X Personal Healer Harry

Minister (Dark Lord) Tom x Personal healer Harry

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freezingflames7

2 years ago

🥰💗😍😭

Mermaid AU but Tom was the one who caused the ship to sink and he is not there to save Harry, but to keep him.

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freezingflames7

1 year ago

My name is Harry. I have to be completely honest, I’m not exactly sure what to put in this letter. What do you even write to a stranger that you’ve never met before? My friend recommended me to this program and said that I should branch out more. I don’t get out of the house much, so maybe that’s one of the reasons for it. And it’s not that I don’t have a lot of free time, people just tend to exhaust me sometimes.

Is it like that where you are? I can only imagine that it must get overwhelming in there sometimes. Do you get a lot of free time? You mentioned that you liked to read, what books exactly?

I’ve never been that big of a reader personally, even though I work as a freelance writer. Is that hypocritical? I don’t think so, but some people think otherwise.

God, I'm so so late but here is my assignment for 2022 Tomarry BigBang!

Quotes are from the wonderful fic You've got mail by B_R_M. Completed fic is not uploaded but I hope to see the whole fic someday. (If you are curious, you can see the summary at @tomarrybigbang)

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freezingflames7

2 years ago

Gosh the art is beautiful. Anyone know a fic like this?