#my children are starving | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cory-trevorson · 7 months

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we NEED to keep talking about Palestine. we NEED to keep talking about the death and famine in Gaza. we NEED to keep talking about the war crimes the IOF is committing and shamelessly flaunting online right in front of us. Why aren't there any tags regarding this on the trending tags page anymore?

I am so ashamed we can all sit comfortably in our homes and enjoy our fandoms while nearly almost 30,000 Palestinians, 29,692 human lives, have been mercilessly slaughtered and starved out, and thats only since October 7th to this day. The injured count lies almost around 69,879.

In the past 24 hours, at least 86 people were killed, and around 131 others are left injured.

These are not just numbers. They are REAL people who just had their whole lives violently torn apart in just a day. Entire family lines massacred and wiped out in just a day.

UNRWA says the last time it was able to deliver food to northern Gaza was January 23rd.

January 23rd.

That is well over a month by now, and people are starving. People are using donkey fodder to keep themselves going. They have so much hope and determination, but the world is still failing them.

Keep the discussion open. Keep reblogging and tagging updates on Palestine. Keep doing your daily clicks, and donate somewhere if you financially can. Keep striking. Keep sharing the atrocities committed by the I"D"F and its supporters (our own complicit countries) so the innocent people of Palestine aren't swept under the rug like the rubble that burries their martyred mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and children. I am painfully reminded of my own people lying in unmarked graves somewhere forgotten and hidden away, the horrors of residential schools shared to me by my poor grandmother and Canada's continued silence. And that pales in comparison to the mangled bodies piling up in Gaza before our very eyes.

This is genocide.

This is not a trend, this is real life. They are still dying, starving, mourning, and petrified. Never forget the genocide the IOF is carrying out for the whole world to see. Never stop talking about it long after Palestine is free.

From the river to the sea, Palestine WILL be free. 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

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piratekane · 2 years

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a continuation from this roommates au 'verse, for @dealanexmachina

This party is loud and reminds Beatrice of all the reasons why she usually says no to these kinds of things - to the lights and the heavy bass and the permanently sticky floors and the press of sweaty bodies. The list goes on and on and on.

The reason she said yes is standing in the middle of it all, arms in the air and hips swaying tragically off beat with her head thrown back and not a care in the world.

Someone bumps into her side and the drink in her hand splashes up against the inside of the cup, threatening to spill over the lip of it and coat her hand in - she’s not sure what type of alcohol is in this. She hasn’t taken a sip. But a very intoxicated boy had insisted and Beatrice had had enough of his babbling, taking the drink and sparing herself another 5 minutes of a curse-peppered run on all the reasons why men really are discriminated against.

Add that to the list of reasons why she usually says no to these things.

She watches someone approach Ava, his body large but his face shadowed by the spinning disco lights that seem to be exploding against the walls. She can see the glint of his eyes, focused entirely on Ava, his goal inelegantly obvious. Ava doesn’t seem to notice, too focused on the music to feel him coming up on her side.

Her grip tightens on her drink and if the cup cracks, she doesn’t hear it over - Ava would know this song, if she was close enough to talk to. But to Beatrice, it’s just a cacophony of noise that wiggles its way into her ear and leaves her with a dull throbbing sensation.

It’s a miracle, then, that she hears her name shouted over it.

Ava crashes into her view as if she was ever not the center of it. Hands outstretched, mouth split in a wide smile, she looks almost wild with glee as she slams into Beatrice. Beatrice is quick, turning her wrist sharply to avoid the contact and dropping the cup onto the side table near the couch she would never even think of sitting down on.

Ava laughs, her breath sticky against Bea’s chin. “Oh my god, you should see your face right now.”

She tries to smooth out the crease she knows is crossing her forehead. It’s not as hard as she thought it might be, the longer Ava stares at her, smiling. “It’s loud.” She has to lean forward, to say it into Ava’s ear.

Ava pulls away, her smile widening. “Isn’t it great?” She has to shout over the thud, thud, thud. But somehow, it still feels like a whisper just for her.

A hand snakes down her arm and makes the jump from her wrist to her waist. She let Ava talk her into jeans tonight instead of her usual cotton pants. She vetoed a shirt from Ava’s closet, though, and picked something light and loose that sat firmly below her waist line and had no chance of exposing anything to anyone. Ava did not make the same considerations. She’s in a pair of low-slung shorts short enough that Beatrice can see the bottom of a pocket poking out from under the hem and a cropped t-shirt that rests just above her belly button.

If there was anything to be left to the imagination, it’s gone each time Ava lifts her arms above her head. Beatrice feels faint each time she does.

Ava’s fingers dig into her waist, fingers hot through the fabric of her shirt. Beatrice shivers a little and inhales sharp enough that her lungs ache for a moment but Ava doesn’t seem to notice, eyes searching over Bea’s shoulder.

“We lost everyone.” She pouts. Someone bumps into her and she stumbles into Beatrice.

It’s the only reason why Beatrice’s hands go to Ava’s waist. It’s the only reason they sway in towards each other. How did I get close enough for that? she wonders. But it’s the bodies surrounding them, forcing them to anchor themselves together. That’s why, she reasons with herself.

It means she doesn’t have to lean in too far to speak into Ava’s ear. “Mary and Shannon left. Something about being too old for this. Camila is talking to that engineering major she knows and Lilith is…” Well, the last time she saw Lilith, she was in the kitchen berating a boy with a long greasy ponytail who was insisting everyone call him a prophet. “Somewhere.”

“Party poopers.” Ava’s pout smooths out. “But you’re still here!”

“Where else would I be?”

It comes out too plainly. Too honest. She feels a rush of embarrassment flood through her, staining the flats of her cheeks. She’s suddenly thankful they’re at a party with the lights dimmed; Ava can’t see the way she turns red. Her hands give her away, traitorous fingers flexing against Ava’s nearly-bare hips. Ava smiles curiously and Beatrice wonders if she might be granted the mercy of some kind of cataclysmic event to wipe her off the face of the earth.

No such mercy exists. Ava smiles wider. “That’s my girl.”

Beatrice ignores the second ripple that floods through her, not wanting to give this one a name.

“Ava!” someone yells. They both turn and Camila comes into view, dragging along a tall boy with a mop of curly hair. Ava doesn’t untangle herself from Beatrice, curling even further into her. Camila pulls up to a stop in front of them, the tall boy bumping into her. She barely stays upright. “There you are! Where did everyone go?”

“It’s just us,” Ava says, exaggerating a pout. “And Bea and I are leaving.”

“We are?”

“You are?” Camila pouts fleetingly before she shrugs and throws her arms out, wiggling them into the limited space between Beatrice and Ava, wrapping one arm around each of them. Beatrice makes a face as an elbow nearly clips her chin, her stomach roiling slightly at the sharp sweetness of Camila’s breath. “Fine. If you must.”

Ava hugs the both of them tightly, eyes closed as she sways a little. “We must. As you discover changing times, you must have the strength to endure.”

Beatrice frowns. “Voltaire?”

“Earth, Wind & Fire.” Ava grins and pulls herself away from Camila but doesn’t let go of Beatrice. She rocks them back a step, Beatrice’s body moving stiffly as Ava controls them. “Remember to rob him later!” She laughs. “We love you. Say you love her, Bea.”

Beatrice softens. “We love you, Camila.”

The words get swallowed by by the music as the song changes and a cheer goes up. Ava doesn’t wait, moving her through the crowd with focused intention, aiming for the door. They spill out into the night and the cold air dampens the sound of the party they just escaped. Ava is still wrapped around for another moment longer and Beatrice navigates walking backward past a girl puking into the bushes. Ava finally unravels from her as they hit the sidewalk and Beatrice is equal parts relieved and melancholy at the loss.

“Let’s go home,” Ava sighs, grabbing Beatrice’s hand and lacing their fingers together. She throws her head back and shouts up into the night. “Home is wherever I’m with youuuu.”

Ava walks steadier than she seems she might on the way back. She doesn’t let go of Beatrice’s hand, though, clutching it tightly as she navigates broken curbs and cracks in the sidewalk. Beatrice lets the cool air ground her back in reality. She’s going to go home and have a glass of water and try to forget what Ava’s hands feel like pressed to her face and what Ava’s mouth feels like against the line of her jaw.

But Ava has a different idea. Because she drapes herself over Beatrice’s back as she works the key into the door, hanging on as Beatrice shuffles awkwardly into their apartment. The air smells fresh and Beatrice breathes it in for a second, feeling Ava move against her before her body slides away and pours like liquid across the living room to the couch.

“No, no.” Beatrice follows after her, hands grabbing at Ava’s wrists. “No, you need to brush your teeth, Ava. And change into something else.” Ava’s nose wrinkles and she sits down on the couch anyway. Beatrice sighs and puts her hands on her hips. “Ava.”

“Beatrice,” Ava says, voice pitched low. Her attempt at an accent is always slightly better when she’s drunk, Beatrice has noticed. She pushes out her bottom lip and pulls her feet up under her as she wiggles back into the couch. “Come. Sit with me.”

Beatrice changes tactics. “Wouldn’t your own bed be better?”

“No.” Ava holds out a hand, beckoning her. “You won’t be in there with me.”

It’s one place Beatrice has yet to go. She cleaned it out when her last roommate left, changed the sheets in preparation of Ava’s arrival. But since Ava moved in, she hasn’t crossed the threshold. It feels too sacred. She feels too exposed.

Because if she did, if she allowed herself the chance to enter the last private space Ava has, Ava would know how desperately she wants to be there. And that is something Beatrice wants to keep under lock and key, hide it away and pray that Ava will never find out. If Ava knew… If Ava knew that Beatrice wants nothing more in the world to wake up underneath the plastic glow-in-the-dark star-dotted ceiling with her legs tangled in Ava’s and her fingers curled into Ava’s shirt - the world might break into two and create a chasm Beatrice could never be able to cross.

Ava pitches dangerously towards the floor and finds Beatrice’s wrist, tugging hard until Beatrice stumbles forward the last inch and narrowly avoids landing on Ava as she crashes to the couch. She doesn’t have a chance to recover before Ava is pulling her closer, wrapping Beatrice’s arms around her own body and pushing back into her.

Ava sighs, body loose and warm. Beatrice holds her breath until her lungs scream at her to let go.

“This is my favorite thing to do,” Ava sighs. “I love being with you.”

It doesn’t mean what Beatrice thinks it means, of course. Ava loves being with everyone. She loves something every day, uses that word so effortlessly where Beatrice uses it like fine china she takes out once in a while. Ava loves love. She loves being with Beatrice and she loves when Mary lets her ride on the back of her motorcycle and she loves ice cream dates with Camila and she even loves Lilith, when she’s drunk enough to admit that.

“You’re drunk,” Beatrice says kindly, the words like knives in her throat. Because it doesn’t mean what Beatrice wants it to mean.

“I’m tisp- tipsy,” Ava corrects. She shuffles around, stretching out until she’s sandwiched Beatrice between her body and the back of the couch. Beatrice can feel the line of Ava’s spine against her chest as she burrows backward into her. “And you’re warm. I love that about you.”

It doesn’t, it doesn’t, it doesn’t.

Beatrice bites back a list of things she loves about Ava in return. “Ava,” she says quietly.

She hears a hum in response, the kind that lends itself to the moment just before someone falls into a deep sleep. A hand reaches back, pulling hers across warm shoulders until it’s balled up under Ava’s chin, feeling the hollow of her throat.

She tries again, fingers fanning out as far as they can in Ava’s tight grasp to feel the smooth skin of her neck under the pads of her fingertips. “Ava, wait.”

Ava wiggles down further into Bea’s arms. “Wait for you. I-” A yawn overtakes her and Beatrice feels selfishly impatient with it. “I’ll wait for you,” Ava finishes in an exhale. She hums again, a smile against Bea’s knuckles. “I’d wait for you forever.”

Beatrice swallows back the hope that presses against her teeth and runs her free hand through Ava’s hair, brushing it off her face. Ava is asleep already, mouth hanging open slightly as she breathes in and out. Beatrice watches for for a long minute, wondering how she happened upon something like this; how she got so lucky to find someone so… perfect.

She wonders when the dam will break inside her chest and the truth will come spilling out of her. Not tonight, with Ava asleep in her arms and all the lights on. Not tomorrow, with Ava smiling at her, bleary-eyed and hungover.

Ava mumbles something unintelligible and shifts in Beatrice’s arms and while it might not be tonight and it might not be tomorrow, Beatrice knows it will be soon. She can’t pretend for much longer.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #my children are starving and i must go feed them now i suppose #but now i have hEADcaNOns for this little 'verse and it's going to be your problem from now on #forever roommates

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