crybabysunflower - Tumblr blog

crybabysunflower · 2 days

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STOP. DON'T SCROLL. READ THIS TO SAVE LIVES IN GAZA. Below are some VETTED campaigns to support Gazans. These people have been experiencing an active genocide for almost a full year. Donate and share widely.

(may 27th)

Save a displaced Gazan Family (@ranibra) - Rania is married with five children, her husband needs medical care. She is now responsible to save her children. Help them evacuate.

Support Fahmi and his family (@fahmiakkila) - Fahmi's life has been turned completely upside down, and he now finds himself responsible to save his parents, sisters, & brothers - 7 members.

Save the Maliha family (@dinamaliha) - Dina wants to save her mother, two sisters, and three brothers. The family lost contact with their father when the genocide started. They desperately need to get to Egypt.

Save Firas' family (@firassalemnewacccount @prosolitudeeee) - Firas is a father of two children, a 10-month-old boy and a two-year-old girl, who are in need of safe haven in Egypt.

Help Husam and his family (@husamthaher) - Husam desperately needs to save himself, his wife, and 3 young children.

Help Nader's family to evacuate from Gaza (@nadershoshaa) - Nader and his family, consisting of six members, are currently displaced in the south; help them evacuate and survive.

The Shamaly family wants to survive (@daee571989) - Help save 15 kids and their family, who are living a horrifying active genocide.

Ahmd needs urgent evacuation (@ahmd-iyd) - Ahmd has lost his livelihood to this genocide, and needs funds to help his family evacuate and rebuild their life.

Help evacuate Hani's family (@skatehani) - A dear friend, and a Palestinian skater trying to evacuate 10 members of his family; he has lost his father to injustice.

Help Iman’s family find safety (@imaneyad) - Iman has a family of 7 who need to find safety.

Help save Youssef's family (@bba3lo @mahmoud7878) - Ahmed Baalousha wants to save his wife, his two sons, his daughter, as well as his parents and siblings.

Support Ruba and Amal's family's urgent evacuation (@rubashaban @amalshabn) - Ruba and Amal's family are lacking the basic necessities of life; they have an elderly father who desperately needs to be evacuated for medical care.

Save little Yusuf and his family (@ahmednabubake) - Yusuf is in an intensive care unit fighting for his life in Gaza; he needs urgent evacuation alongside his family.

Help Omar evacuate (@omarsobhi) - Omar is a 20 year old Palestinian student who wants to save himself and his family from this genocide.

Help Belal and his family to evacuate from Gaza (@alaajshaat) - Belal has lost too much to this war and needs to support himself and his family.

Do not scroll past this list without contributing. This list makes it easy for you to find a fundraiser to support. Choose at least one. Your contribution will save lives. If you cannot donate, share these campaigns.

FIND MORE CAMPAIGNS HERE

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crybabysunflower · 2 days

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plane of memories and golden coins

The chime of a golden coin being collected rang around the small room, it sounds reverberating off the skin of Yoosung and causing a slight shiver of excitement now that he has finally completed such a complicated level.

His hands gripped the bright red controller in his sweaty palms, the shine gliding beside the handles and causing his ability to control just a bit harder than when he had started. His taped fingers— wrapped in colorful bandages from the countless times he tried cooking from a recipe he had found in one of Rika’s old books —pushed lightly against the small buttons as he maneuvered the pointer to enter a new realm of trees and morbid creatures on the small screen.

Soft snores echoed against Yoosung’s back, reminding him he had to be extra quiet to let the being behind finally have the pleasure of sweet dreams or a blank slate in their mind as darkness welcomed drowsiness.

Shades of blue and purple and black painted the room beautifully; the only source of light to swirl the colors together was a small television placed on a hardwood floor, without a table to lay on. It flashes of the many different scenes happening on it— courtesy to Yoosung’s fiddling with a joystick —bouncing across the features of the blond and the redhead on the couch.

If the young boy risked his thirteen lives he worked hard to collect for his red character to hold a clammy hand on such a rough one, experienced one: traces of hard work and tiny, white scars littered across its pale dimension, he would deny the statement.

Because the feeling of clasping such a boy who tremors in the presence of a religious figure, who tinkers with nails and washers and gift those exact projects to his humble friends; who whispers softly in the shell of your ear— hot breath fanning your neck, sending shivers down to your spine as sweet encouragement of words and praises and love shatter your composure to hear any more of it — it’s all too much and too little and maybe the curious younger boy wanted a taste of it.

For some time, Yoosung assumed he and Saeyoung were from the same star, the same orbit. Their values were similar in ways which when they shared the same room, it’s almost as if they collided and meshed so well together there was no need for such an imperfect balance. Instead, it was replaced with fits of giggles and boyish teases; pranks that could’ve been taken too far but the blond can’t help and hold a grudge for so long, so Saeyoung knew he always had one more chance left.

It was the way a small smile of slightly crooked teeth that dared to look his way had Yoosung’s grip hold on tighter to the collared shirt he wore too often. It was the way the redhead traced the curves of his young face, complimenting the strange color washed in his eyes and joking about how he possibly got the physical trait from a faraway being— nothing human but all the more the same emotion Yoosung held in his own.

Saeyoung stopped pushing when Yoosung decided he had enough and pulled such a fragile boy against his chest and rubbed a shaking hand across the surface of his back. No matter how many throws and curses the other tossed his way, Yoosung took it with a grain of salt and hoped it wasn’t all true. He hoped the fumbling sentences that were wretched from his scratchy throat, were all just mere lies and thoughts the redhead had conjured up for the sake of the people closest to move; to leave and never come back because there was only one person who deserved such a far away concept of happiness.

Saeran didn’t ask for it, but Saeyoung gave and gave and—

Here he was. Stretched limbs displayed along the frayed gray couch of Yoosung’s dorm room. Strands of fiery red— (sometimes Yoosung argued with himself that it could’ve been the soft color of orange, shades of autumn and pumpkins and the sweet smell of annual treats he passed by every morning on the way to class, bright or the dark shade of) —hair framed such a peaceful face that the other hadn’t witnessed in a long time.

There was a bowl of popcorn discarded on the flat of his stomach, almost similar to an elevator the way it descended every time a breath Saeyoung took as he brought it back down.

He still held his hand. He no longer paid attention to the game in front and instead twisted his body around fully to enrapture such a wonderful sight to see. Yoosung brought his body closer, seeking warm, heat Saeyoung always seemed to radiate off and had the smaller one of the two melt at any slight touch.

He played with their fingers, tangled up lazily as Saeyoung's grip was pliant and loose, not necessarily hanging on but still curling around the wrist of Yoosung’s. The soft colors that emitted from the television screens painted a nice shade along the sleeping features of the other, eyelashes cascaded low as it shadows underneath his closed eyes.

Yoosung brought his free hand from the floor to lightly press his palm against the warm cheek of Saeyoung. His nimble fingers carefully rubbing circles on the soft skin, too scared to wake up the being beside him.

It didn’t do much though. In a matter of seconds— of moments where it was just Yoosung brushing away silent tears and coaxing horrible memories and heartbreaking betrayals to leave this desperate boy alone— Saeyoung’s amber orbs flickered open, a hazy smile matching the sleep clinging onto the corners of his eyes.

Yoosung smiled softly, thrumming the pads of his fingers more firmly against Saeyoung; an apology for waking up the other from such a comfortable slumber.

Seayoung’s tried gaze traveled the expanse of Yoosung’s own, soon noticing the bright colors across the room— snorting at the character his blond left idling, getting eaten by a black wrecking ball with chompers for teeth.

A small laugh came with his playful look as he turned his head back to the boy in front, lifting the hand dangling, tingling with the overflow of blood and covering the same hand Yoosung still declared his property for the time being.

“You missed a gold coin,” he teased.

The younger boy whipped his head back to the screen, eyeing the black space circled with white, no golden shining coin filling it in.

His ears perked at another sound of laughter, this time much more awake and alive and everything Yoosung wanted to hear for the rest of his life. Though, he wasn’t going to announce that aloud and have Saeyoung get the upper hand in their little game of cat and mouse. He was quite tired of being the only one to fall for mindless jokes, regardless of whether the small white lies were obnoxious or not— Saeyoung was quite convincing when he put his mind to it: which happened to be the majority of the time.

“You’re never going to let that down, huh?” Yoosung responded, a hint of annoyance but still too soft. Damn— he sometimes envied Jumin for keeping obvious emotions in check; Yoosung just didn’t have that power too often.

Saeyoung’s eyes crinkled at the outer corners of Yoosung’s tone. The dim light capturing the mix of brown and hazel— maybe orange, (just another thing to add to his list of Saeyoung) —as he breathed, “You’re stuck with me young one.”

Yoosung’s nose scrunched at the teasing nickname but overall gave up on starting a round of comebacks till one of them lost to fits of laughter or a bright pink shade of embarrassment.

Neither said anymore. Too lost in losing themselves in a small bubble they created with a comfortable silence and unspoken words.

Yoosung can’t help but remember when there were times they couldn’t even share the same space. He recalls meeting up in public places; the arcade, movies, events held during RFA parties, but never at each other’s personal home— more specifically a certain stubborn redhead’s. He remembered the muscle memory he had every time Saeyoung— (or Seven at the time when none of their close-knit of friends were aware of anything more than a jokester with a skill for codes and binary numbers) —would send a ridiculous image of himself with a trail of expensive cars lined behind him and Yoosung would send a collection of annoyed emojis in response. The pictures usually held a signature peace sign formed on slender figures and glasses lowered down to the point where if Yoosung was with him at that moment, he would gladly push them back up to the bridge of his nose.

For some time, he believed those romantic eyes of his were too focused on the newest member of their charity. Always going on about how they would protect them at any cost, never mind his own well being.

Maybe, if Yoosung wasn’t so naive or childish, if maybe he looked a bit more closely back then, he could’ve seen the signs of an upcoming breakdown of tears and guilt of a lost brother.

No matter how many times he shook his head at the memories, pleading for them to go away because Saeyoung was with him right now. Saeyoung is no longer tied to mysterious people he once worked with who punished him with girl clothing and exhausting missions. He is no longer brought back down by the same blond woman and her loving companion whose eyes barely saw through the fog of danger. He was home and he was safe and Yoosung would be damned if they had a repeat of what happened so long ago.

“Hey,”

Yoosung wasn’t aware he blanked out. He suddenly felt the weight of warmth on his own cheek, accompanied by no other than the exact person he was thinking about.

The blond rested his eyes back into Saeyoung’s, filled with adoration and care; everything the other didn’t have the privilege of when he was younger.

He wanted to forget all that though. No more sad smiles and late-night cries as the moon shed her lovely light through cheap blue curtains. Saeyoung was okay. He is okay.

And he’s right here with Yoosung, smiling just as softly.

“Hi.”

“You’re still here with me?” Leave it to Saeyoung to continue joking around even if this was a moment neither wanted to break.

Yoosung didn’t mind. He would listen to these kinds of conversations for the rest of his life he hoped.

He took hold of the hand cupping his cheek, a dark blush already forming because no matter how many times they’ve done this routine before, he would always be shy to experience such comforting affection from the redhead. He brought the exact hand to the wide expanse of his lips, pressing them lightly against the palm of it and then peppering more around calloused fingers.

A giggle escaped Saeyoung’s mouth, no longer containing the exact same embarrassment he constantly harassed on the other.

Yoosung sighed, leaning forward and knocking his forehead against Saeyoung’s. They stared and stared and shared silent whispers of promises neither dared to say aloud.

“Yeah, I’ll always stay here.”

Amethyst eyes met hazel ones and—

“Always. With you."

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