#we're all just lashing out at each other because theres no one in power we can actually reach

[gibbearish]

donate to palestinian gofundmes! remember your clicks! watch out for scam gofundmes! gofundme is refusing to release the funds to palestinian gofundmes! remember your clicks! theres a ceasefire! israel is breaking the ceasefire! palestinians directed to safezone! israel is bombing the safezone! theres a ceasefire! israel is breaking the ceasefire! donate to verified gofundmes! dont donate to gofundmes, donate to organizations who can use the money where it's needed most! remember your clicks! don't donate to orgs, theyre inefficient and individuals know how to use the funds better for themselves! here's a list of verified gofundmes! remember your clicks! israel accused of war crimes! remember your clicks! if we all work together we can stop this! eyes on the protests! eyes off the protests, theyre drawing attention away! eyes on the protests, the government is trying to shut it down! boycott eurovision, eyes on eurovision protests! eyes off eurovision, it's drawing attention away! never look away for even a second! remember your clicks! here's a graphic description of the torture theyre going through! pay attention, paying attention is how we stop this! remember your clicks! buy esims! think about the children dying horrifically right this second in real time! eyes on the next safezone, surely this time itll work and israel wont turn around and bomb it! remember your clicks!

compassion fatigue? how fucking selfish can you be? are you actually going to make this about you and how upset it makes you feel to think about? you should be thanking god it isnt happening to you. you know every country in the world hates yours and its only a matter of time before someone finds an excuse to start bombing you back, better pipe down! listen to the planes flying overhead and imagine they were raining death down on you, maybe thatll give you some perspective. remember your clicks!

[softness-and-shattering]

Creating strawmen, projecting strawmen onto people, they get justifiably upset, you feel vindicated because look they are being awful to you like you said, everyone sinks into their trauma and defensiveness and lashes out, we go in circles and circles of hurting each other instead of protecting ourselves and each other.

It doesnt matter who has it worse. We all have it bad. We're all targeted by the same people and the same ideologies. We're all hurt in similar but varying ways.

Ive seen a significant uptick recently of this "trans men are basically cis men and experience no oppression whatsoever" strawman. Its got to stop. It doesnt make other trans people more valid or more real or more safe to make these claims you have no evidence for. What are you trying to achieve? Because all youre doing is picking a fight and hurting people and getting hurt yourself. Is that what you want from your life? Getting bloodied and weakened in a pointless brawl while the wolves are scratching at the door? Because we really need to work out how to fight the wolves before they batter down the door.

You want respect, decency, a measure of safety? We can have each others backs. But only if you stop stabbing us there. We have much bigger fights to fight than who is the most oppressed tranny. And if we succeed there wont be an answer because we will achieve freedom and safety and and justice. Please just take a breath and look at what we have in common for a minute, instead of imagining all the ways we can hurt each other. Look at what we all have to fight for.

We arent cis men. We dont have male privilege. We dont have the confidence of a cis guy who's never been told no, we're unlearning a lifetime of being told to sit down and shut up and wait our turn and look pretty. We have also navigated complicated relationships with womanhood and femininity and stereotypes and expectations and disappointment. We are also navigating complex relationships with manhood and masculinity and patriarchal expectations and demands and how to build a sense of self that doesnt revolve around asshole dudebro traits like degrading women and bullying other men to prove how manly we are, and acting allergic to emotions. We've all experienced those assholes as women and we sure dont want to become them. We're not transitioning for safety same as you arent, we're trans because its who we are. We always have been and often still are subject to misogyny. Theres no safety pass out of the patriarchy and we tend not be very patriarchal asshole wealthy manly men so we dont have power or status around those types either.

We share so many struggles and so many vulnerabilities and we're so busy fighting each other over nothing of substance just whos worst hurt! And if you dont want to or cant be an activist thats fine we can just be allies. Aquaintances if not friends. Maybe even friends. We're all just people. And Im so so tired of this stupid division every fucking day trying desperately for anyone to see how much we are hurting. I see you. I want us to stop fighting so that we all have one less source of pain. And nonbinary people you are absolutely included as are intersex people as is everyone queer or adjacent. We're all weirdos and we're all punished for it. We all hurt really badly. We all feel and are in some ways invisible. Can we please put down the weapons so that we can rest and heal, and then draw up a game plan of some kind, and then start dealing with the wolves whoever can so we can all be properly safe. Including you. You dont have to be specially oppressed to deserve safety and respect, that comes free with being human. Theres nothing to prove. I believe you.

Like so sorry but after spending 80% of my childhood being sexually harassed (for being seen as a girl) and being sexually harassed (for being trans) and being plain ol' harassed (for being a freak) and being sexually harassed again (for being a freak), I just think you're being maliciously ignorant if you try to claim trans men... don't face misogyny? Or just, violence in general, or even violence specific to us.

This is no longer a debate for me, y'all are just... wrong. On purpose.

[askdracomalfoyofficial]

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𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Note: The paragraphs that are in italic are the thoughts he is thinking —

TW: Mild thoughts of killing her. Swearing. Possession. Nothing to serious, but thought I would put this before-hand. Enjoy!

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It all started after I had called you a Mudblood. You see, my father taught me all about blood-status, pure-bloods being the highest form of witch or wizard. Magic comes easy to us, our veins are filled with it. We have control over it. Then theres you, someone who has Muggle parents, making you just that. How you had a outburst of magic is something I'm currently questioning. I can certainly see you being someone who's Drabble around with it, study it in your books.

But my father warned me about people like you. Warned me that your blood is dirty, and anyone whom surrounds themselves around you, or even do much as become friends with you is a blood-traitor.

Anyone under us, we don't care for.

Yet, there was something about you that had always piqued my interest somehow, someway or another. I can't tell you what it is, Granger. But, Merlin… I don't know how you are our Brightest Witch of Her Age became such a thing for a Muggle-born. You and your swatty ways, always raising your bloody hand in class every two, three seconds. Basically… dissecting the answers or things the Professors would teach us. God, how I wished I could cut your hands off, or cast a silencing charm on you so your mouth stops moving, you annoying wrench.

The witch with unruly messy mop on her head. Tame your fucking mane, Granger. Get some tips from Pansy for all I care, maybe then… you'd learn something. But, you're not someone who cares about appearances are you? You're the first girl I know to not. Doesn't surprise me.

He breathes out a sigh.

I bloody fucking hate you. You have no idea. I want to wrap my hands around your throat, and watch the life leave your eyes but not as much as I want to run my fingers through your hair, grab a fistful and yank your head back just to crash my lips onto yours. To make you feel the hate I have for you, to make your lips swollen. To have my tongue vigorously dance with yours, a duel to win. I want to press my lips to your neck, find your pulse and feel it beat against my lips then suck your breath from you. Suffocate in your aroma, to smell your hair and taste the salt of your skin against my tongue.

“For instance… I smell,” she leans her face more over the steam. “Freshly mown grass, and new parchment, and–“ Her words trailed off as she started to realize who it was.

Thinking about it is repulsive, thinking about you, specifically is repulsive. I’m thinking about all this, while you're smelling your Amortentia, and I bet what you're smelling is that daft bimbo, Weaselby.

Ah, the lovely Amortentia. The most powerful love potion that there is. It has a smell for each and every individual according to what attracts them.

Draco adjusts his stance, hands finding a home in the pocket of his trousers. Eyes on her, more so the back of her head, watching while she smells the steam that swirls endlessly up towards her face, and the way her hair grows with the humidity. In a way, it matches the way his had been tousled at his fringe. It looks as if someone had ran their fingers through his own hair and ruffled it up. Hers just looks like straight bed head, yet not taken care of.

His brow raised, looking through his lashes at her.

Weaselby smells like mown grass, well that's quite bloody disgusting. And, you're telling me that's what attracts you?

A scoff slipped out from somewhere in the room, and for a moment he panicked because he knew it came from him the moment Blaise lifted his eyes to look at him with a brow of his own raised. But, Draco's eyes were on the back of her head, which in that moment he regretted because she turned around and automatically met his. Jaw muscles worked as it snapped shut, clenching his teeth together.

Don't look at me like that. Who do you think you are?

Professor Slughorn dismissed the class, he hurried to get his things situated and left the room without so much as a second glance back at his fellow classmates; including her. But he could feel the way that her eyes bored into his back, setting his skin ablaze.

Eventually, Blaise caught up to him. “What was all that back there, mate?”

“What? What do you mean was all that?” He stopped in his tracks, and lifted his eyes to meet Blaise’s but grew uncomfortable and looked away, ah, the stone wall was helping particularly well in this moment.

“Why did you act that way after Granger smelled her Amortenia?”

Merlin! He wasn't going to let this up. Fucking always so observant.

“Because what she smelled was ridiculous.”

“No, what is it really? You can't possibly think I'm that stupid, Draco.” He persisted.

Draco’s eyes gravitated back to him. Jaw tight. “What would you like me to say, Blaise? Is there a specific thing you're expecting me to answer with? Because whatever you're trying to get out of me, isn't there. So, I suggest that you stop while you're ahead.” Was what he left the conversation with.

Blaise, if I told you anything, you'd think that I’ve gone bloody mental, shit, I'm beginning to wonder myself if I did.

All through the years I’ve been watching Hermione Granger, bullying her and her friends because I get amusement out of the looks on their faces. How I know that I piss them off, and I'm good at it. There was once a part of me who loved to watch her cry, to bathe in those tears that fell down her cheeks, those very cheeks I want to grab in my hand and attack her jaw with my lips.

Draco shook his head as if he were trying to dismiss the thoughts, dismiss the way he was feeling and thinking as they weren't quite appropriate.

This year was so utterly fucked. I just want it to be over.

He made his way through the corridors, retreating from Blaise and dipping around the corner. He needed some down time, perhaps the library would do some good. Settle down with a book, in a far corner sounded lovely.

An hour gone by, and he'd been so enveloped in multiple books because he couldn't just decide on one and he needed to distract his mind from the interaction with Blaise, and Hermione interfering his thoughts.

But low and behold, she came into the library. Of course! The know-it-all loved to read just as much as he did.

Oh, you got to be fucking kidding me.

Draco rolled his eyes, clenched his jaw tight and pretended to read but every so often his gaze would lift to where she was. She was huffing loudly, even two exasperated sighs left her mouth. His teeth gritted and the muscle in his jaw worked.

After a couple of moments, perhaps five minutes gone by of her continuing with her loud outbursts of breathing, huffs and sighs he had enough of it all. Draco slammed the book shut, picking up the others and went to return them to their slots. When he was done, he approached her. Shouldering the frame of one of the bookshelves.

“Do you need to be so loud? This is a library for a reason.” His voice was cold, like a cool breeze brushing through the space between them. By the looks of it, he could tell that when he spoke that he had startled her.

She turned around mid-way while pulling out a book. Her chocolate-colored eyes lifted to meet his with a glare. Her head tilted to the side, and a retort was just waiting to leave her mouth. Draco had noticed this when he seen her lips twitch.

“Do you wish for me to apologize to you? Because,” she scoffed, crossing her arms with the book over her chest and under one arm. “You won't be getting it.”

“Who said anything about you apologizing?” His brow raised. “It's the fact that you are in a library, being loud with just your breath.”

Hermione looked around them. “Seems to me like we're the only ones in here, Malfoy. So —” she put the book back and moved down the shelf more, opposite of where he was standing. “I don't really see a problem here, you're just always bothered unless it's you doing something someone doesn't like.” She retorted, rather calmly.

How are you always able to handle your composure when around me. Yes — keep going down the aisle, pretty soon you'll be stuck in that corner.

Draco’s jaw snapped, his throat clicked. He hadn't really observed the room when he came in, but she was right about it being empty and the only ones in there being them. What a situation to be in.

“And you breathing loudly happens to be something that I don't like. I wouldn't be standing here right now if otherwise.” A hand slipped from across his chest, as his index finger lifted from the light fist he held, raising it like he were thinking before taking a step closer, slowly. “I am always bothered by you. Your presence is insufferable. Anywhere I go, I always have to see your face, I'm repulsed by it.”

It's true, I am always bothered by you. You are insufferable, but I am sure I could put you into your place; if you'd let me. I may be repulsed by your face, but I can't help but also like looking at it, at those lips —

She laughed manically, like what he said was the most hilarious thing she'd ever heard, or perhaps she had seen right through him. Hermione stopped what she was doing with the books, what book was she trying to find anyways? Her body shifted, feet angled towards him and arms remained crossed over her chest.

“You're the only one who thinks these things, and quite frankly they do not bother me.”

Man, you are bloody stubborn — not as much as I am.

He stepped closer, a hand coming up to grip onto the edge of the shelf. His own height towering over her own, blocking out the library light from her face. They were now sharing each other's exhaled breathes, and he knew she could feel the way his ghosted along her face. She didn't at all seem bothered by his presence now crowding her, backed into the corner of a bookshelf. He was looming over her.

“They don't bother you?” He asked and his tone dripped sarcasm. She shifted uncomfortably. “Do tell me, what does bother you then?”

“Why would that be something you're curious about? Since when did you care about what bothers me or not?”

Draco smirks, his head turning to the side while his eyes fell to the door of the library. Tongue grazing the bottom of his upper teeth. “You're right,” he turned his head back, glaring down through his lashes. “Why would I care? I don't care for someone of the liking of you.”

With that — he leaned down towards her more, for a moment he looked as though he were going to kiss her. But it was just to give a look of intimidation before his weight pressed into the hand that gripped the shelf to push himself off. Hands finding their way back into his trouser pockets.

I fucking hate you. I fucking hate you so much and you already know that don't you, Granger? Because I make it known, it's all over my face whenever you look at me, whenever we run into each-other. I hate you, yet I want to fucking kiss you, I want to do these things to do you that I, when I was younger couldn't see myself doing. Let alone have never done with a witch before besides Pansy, she always knew how to keep my best interests in mind.

I want to have my hands in your hair, tangled in my fingers and watch as your curled locks fall through. I want my hand around your throat possessively, let my thumb graze along your jaw and down the front of your throat like I'm thirsty for you and just want a little taste.

I want to have your clothes pooled at your feet while my eyes roam your naked canvas, I want to take in every scar, beauty mark, freckle. I want to do it all.

I want to trace the pads of my fingers down your spine, to your tailbone and trail them around to your hips.

I want to do so much to you — I want to possess you.

But then I'm reminded just by looking at you that you're a Muggle witch, and I fucking hate you, you're repulsive and insufferable. A know-it-all swat, who just can't keep her fucking mouth shut.

I'm conflicted, my stomach is in knots and this'll be the one thing that takes me to my very grave.