ヒマワリ

"Oh? How come?"

"His wife, the Fire Lady, has traveled to visit family in the south and, unfortunately, she had to leave while he was preoccupied."

"...Ah, I see. So Fire Lord Zuko did not get to see his wife off and didn't—"

"Get his goodbye kiss, yes."

"How long is Our Lady gone for?"

"A month."

Mikey: *Embraces Y/N* Baby, I knew you and I will die together someday.

You scurry to Tik Tok for entertainment

Yet you look past the genocide happening in Congo and Palestine

Or maybe you don’t? If you have a basic touch of morality, please share this post and mind others of the horrors happening in Congo and Palestine!!

Rape has been used as a weapon of war in the Democratic Republic of Congo for over 20 years. Many of you on this app are of/over that age, and ask yourself: How many times have you heard of or spoken up about this? If you genuinely had no idea of this, please listen. Children are missing from schools, 1000+ women are being raped every single day. This statistic is from 2011, so it’s devastating to assume the number has risen. Victims are as young as six—survivors ranging from fucking TODDLERS to GRANDMOTHERS!! Some get pregnant and some don’t survive at all. Armed groups are doing this to break communities and silence women! Even when they do survive, they’re left with no justice, no hospitality.

THAT PHONE IN YOUR HAND COMPLETED PRODUCTION THANKS TO THE HARMFUL CONDITIONS THEY HAVE BEEN FORCED INTO. Women of the DRC mine the minerals used in many electronically factors in your very privileged life. From ear pieces to electrical cars!

They reached the final stage of famine a long time ago. As of recently, Palestine has marked this milestone. Everyday children are famished to the point of death, families are EAGER for bread and water. Let me remind you, they are not starving—these people are BEING starved. Yes, Trump recently sent food drones, but do not be fooled. Just weeks ago, this man burned enough food to completely CURE the hunger there. The amount he sent over there is equivalent to throwing a jacket at someone and telling them to climb Mt. Everest. And listen to this, Israel is using this to their advantage. Israelite soldiers lure Palestinian citizens in—put them in single lines—baiting them at Humanitarian Aid centers, then gun them down. The men, the women, the children. NO ONE IS SAFE THERE. These things are sick. Look how barbaric people get over LAND—RELIGION.

The babies, elderly, sick, disabled, are all suffering horridly. They’re people too. Babies are meant to be fat with tons of rolls on their necks. But when videos of INFANTS pop up on my feed, the skin on their stomachs are as sunken as the skin on their faces. There is no medicine nor treatment available to those who need it. Conditions are only worsening under the collapsed roofs of war. LITERALLY.

This barely even scratches the surface of the violence in Congo and Palestine. Granted, it matters. Every little act matters. Interact with the videos of the desperate citizens because it matters. Donate what little you can to posted fundraisers because it matters. Stuff empty water bottles with food/supplies and chuck it into the ocean. That shit matters. It will reach them.

Congo and Palestine are hungry, scared. You sharing and interacting with this post matters. World leaders are turning cheek to this, so the rest is up to us. Silence isn’t neutral, it makes you an enemy.

what did you say to him

you freeze. so does he.

his thumb is still pressed up against your lower lip. you can feel the work-rough pad of it; his spit is slick against your skin. there's heat rising to your cheeks, a supernova burn.

"kita—" you start to say, his name strung out, frazzled with panic.

his thumb slips between your parted lips. you press your tongue against it instinctively; you can taste the salt of him and a hint of the sake you'd been sharing.

kita stares at you, his eyes searching. they're the color of a sunrise, a sweet golden dawn. there's a promise in them.

you press your tongue against his thumb again.

he breathes in through his nose. it's calm. composed. it makes something in you itch.

slowly, carefully, you close your lips around his thumb.

his eyes go dark, the color of whisky. he lets out a soft breath; you only hear the shake because you were listening for it.

a door creaks open.

the both of you go still again.

"daddy?"

it's high and plaintive, an uneasy warble. a little hiccup follows.

kita pulls free of you in an instant. he wipes his thumb against his shirt; you watch as it dampens with your spit.

he's halfway to the hallway when he glances over his shoulder at you. his gaze keeps you in place, a butterfly pinned by its wings.