#choose an omar

[omarrudberg-confessions]

[the-silver-chronicles]

2025 Year Of The OTP February Prompts: "You're Mine" [Boa Lurking In The Bliss]

Tagging @imogenkol @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @aceghosts @inafieldofdaisies @voidika @raresvtm @josephseedismyfather @noodlecupcakes @cloudofbutterflies92 @cassietrn @adelaidedrubman @derelictheretic @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @carlosoliveiraa @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @florbelles @minilev @justasmolbard @yokobai and @seedsplease + anyone else who'd like to join.

February Prompts based on this Year Of The OTP fandom event as well as something for Valentines Day. Tackling the following prompts: Valentines Day, "It made me think of you", Bed Sharing & Mind Control/Break.

Sharing the February Oneshot here, but alternatively can be found on my AO3 here. I suppose this will count as one of my major contributions to Faithbruary (despite the fact I'm doing this for the other months too).

Unlike January's oneshot Our Love, this Faithbruary oneshot You're Mine includes a content warning for dubious consent for kissing, mostly due to use of Bliss.

Anyway, you can read the oneshot below the cut or on my AO3 above. Enjoy!:

Title: You’re Mine

Series: The Silver Chronicles (Far Cry 5)

Pairing: Boa Lurking In The Bliss (Silva Omar/Faith Seed)

Prompts: February – Valentine’s Day, “It made me think of you”, Bed Sharing & Mind Control/Break.

Genre: Fluff but really Dark Angst.

CW: Mildly dubious consent for a kiss (Standard procedure with use of Bliss). The horrifying use of Bliss on a person. Obsession and possessiveness from Faith Seed.

Words: 2,623

In the unconscious chasm of sleep, Silva stirred upon feeling the familiar sensation of heat washing over her skin.

Though her eyes were heavy, she pushed herself through the tiredness to open them, undeterred by the brightness above. The sun seemed to be intense today.

Awakening, she stretched on the soft silk sheets of the queen-sized bed, the large blanket drifting down to reveal she was wearing a pyjama button-up shirt and shorts. She didn’t remember putting such clothing on yesterday, but the night before had been more or less a blur to Silva, so it wasn’t anything she should focus on.

Rubbing at her face, she paused when she noted her gloves weren’t on, her sensitive hands feeling tingly under the soft gaze of the sun. Her dark hair, usually braided into one tail, was also undone, allowing her long dark hair to flow behind her.

She furrowed her brows at that until her attention was turned towards an additional weight on the bed.

Her train of thought was swiftly forgotten as she focused on the beautiful mujer sitting on the edge of the bed, still ethereal in the white dress she wore. Her flowing light brown hair that reached a little over her shoulders was a majestic sight, but what captivated Silva most her alluring green eyes.

And when her lips quirked up into a content smile, Silva could feel her heartbeat quicken, and the fog on her mind felt heavier.

Faith was here.

When did she get here? Where is here?

The unprompted thought brought confusion, though she didn’t get to focus on it when Faith stated, “You’re finally awake.”

Silva blinked, and felt herself return a smile as she pushed herself up, sitting up against the bed’s head.

Her eyes briefly trailed to the surrounding foliage, mist with a green hue surrounding familiar white flowers. The logic of it baffled Silva, but she elected to ignore it in favor of a reply.

“I haven’t had a goodnight rest like that in ages,” she said, her grey eyes taking in Faith’s form before her, “How long was I out?”

How did I get here?

The thought repeated, and Silva felt something at the edge of her mind.

The crackling of gunfire. The blare of speakers playing soothing music. Eyes hurting, tears welling. Inhaling sweetness-

“Just a couple hours,” Faith answered, scooting closer to Silva with… a tray of freshly baked steaming bread and a cup of tea. She was surprised she didn’t notice Faith holding it sooner, but with a growl from her stomach, Silva’s priorities shifted from questioning to eating.

Silva rationalized she hadn’t fully woken up yet, hence why she didn’t notice the food Faith was holding. Even if she didn’t believe that herself. What’s going on with me-

Faith pushed the tray into Silva’s hands, forcing the dark-haired woman to shift concentration on not spilling anything onto herself or the bed.

“You had such a rough night though, you’ll probably need more rest for the celebration,” Faith mentioned, observing Silva settle the tray onto her own lap and breaking the hot bread in half.

“Celebration?” Silva raised a brow at that, taking a bite out of the softness of the hot bread. She resisted the urge to hum in contentment, not long before devouring it fully.

Faith only smiled in response, waving away the question, “Nothing to think about. It’ll be a long while until then. Leaves plenty of time for us…”

Silva had just picked up the teacup when she noticed the purr in Faith’s voice. She noted how Faith twirled a stand of light brown hair, her green eyes on the other woman with a familiar intensity of emotion.

“Us?” Silva repeated the distinctly emphasized word in a soft murmur, her tone inquiring while she looked away from Faith’s beautiful face. The use of that word accompanied by Faith’s behavior held an implication that only made her heart pump faster, so she took a sip from the all too sweet tea.

Not helped by Faith’s coy smile (was it coy? Or was it sly?). Nor how she reached her hand out to caress Silva’s cheek… and cupped her face…

The sweetness burned in her lungs. She knew she was a goner. She could already feel lighter-

“You know what today is, Silva?” Faith asked with a tilt of her head, keen to observe all of Silva’s expressive reactions.

Silva tried to remember if she even knew the answer. The days all kind of blur together ever since-

“February 14th,” Faith stated, taking the teacup from her hands and returning it to the tray, removing it from Silva’s lap to place it aside on the sheets, making room for her to shuffle closer to Silva on the bed.

However, Silva had a spark of familiarity with the specific date that distracted her from Faith’s enfolding approach.

“Got a special someone to spend some lovin’ on tomorrow, Dep?” asked the gruff, scratchy voice of one of the Guns. The flame-throwing one.

A brief panicked thought erupted in her mind, Why can’t I remember his name? I should know his name! Isn’t it-?!

“Valentines Day,” Silva muttered to herself, the thoughts gone in favor of realizing the day’s significance. She tried to claw on to that memory… the memory of a name, now too blurry to make out what the words were, but just as quickly as it came, it slipped from her grasp. Her eyes returned to Faith when she realized the other woman was straddling her.

In her hazy mind, Silva still recognized the proximity was an intimate gesture that she knew could only be shared between amantes. She remembered sharing her personal space with Irene before-

“I got something for you,” Faith softly told Silva, face ever closer, the smell of citruses invading her nose, strong enough to make her head dizzy. There wasn’t much distance between their faces, nor their lips; a dangerous thought whispered that, if Silva just inched more closer, she could probably capture Faith’s lips in her own.

…Wait, no! I can’t be thinking about kissing Faith Seed! She’s my en-!

Faith pulled out something from behind her, bringing it up between them; it was a small gift box, it’s size fitting on Faith’s palm.

Silva, with an odd hesitance, lightly took the little gift from Faith. There was an Eden’s Gate cross was drawn on the top of it.

The last thing she recalled before her consciousness fell into the familiar sweet darkness was how the dreaded cross looked down on her with a judgement as ferocious as the surrounding flames.

“Open it,” Faith encouraged, a wide and excited smile on her face.

Silva shook away the unprompted visage; somewhere in her mind echoed its insignificance. She followed Faith’s instruction, opening the little box’s lid to reveal-

A bracelet?

That was Silva’s initial thought, considering its design. It looked like a small grey python coiled around, poised to strike. It appeared to be made of a kind of special leather, one she’d expect to find at the Seed’s Ranch.

That thought provoked a glimpse of a familiar bearded man wearing a blue shirt and vest, his grin manic while holding a bloodied screwdriver.

Her hand went to her chest, where the skin had once been exposed. Taking a deep breath, inhaling the sweet and citrus air that put her at ease, she refocused her attention back onto the bracelet.

Inspecting it closer, she noted that it was a bit wide to be a bracelet and came to another conclusion.

“Is it a… choker?” she asked Faith, mildly curious on what compelled Faith to gift her this.

The light brunette stifled a snicker, uncharacteristic of the woman that Silva knew. Or thought she knew…

Regardless, Faith decided to correct Silva, “No, it’s not a choker. Close though. Think of it as… a “special necklace” or rather a pendant. Here, I’ll put it on for you.”

Without so much as a chance to decline, Faith took the pendant out of the box and got Silva to turn around. The way she pressed against her back caused Silva’s cheeks to burn and darken from the contact, but Faith didn’t seem to notice. Not that Silva entirely minded… not while the other woman coiled the necklace around her neck. Almost collaring her, but that thought was shoved away swiftly.

“And done!” Faith exclaimed, skidding back to let her check out the jewellery. Silva noted that it was a bit small, but she could see the chain and embellishment attached to it; she realized it was a love heart with the intricate engravings of a Bliss flower, the chain attached to the mouth of the python.

It was certainly a strange choice of gift, but not one she was against nor unused to wearing.

Wait… where’s my locket? Silva realized her golden necklace was missing. Which shouldn’t be possible. She took special care in ensuring it was close to her. I can’t have lost it! It’s too valuable! It’s the only way to feel close to-!

Silva felt a weight over her shoulders, which happened to be Faith slumping herself onto Silva’s back, wrapping her arms around the taller woman.

“I hope you like it,” Faith murmured into Silva’s dark skin, the vibrations of her voice like a tickle that caused her to shudder, “It made me think of you.”

Before Silva could form a reply, Faith pressed a soft peck on her cheek, much to the surprise of her companion.

She receded to the shell of Silva’s ear, whispering, “Happy Valentines.”

Silva had been trying to make heads and tails of the nature of their relationship, especially with this strange exhausting fog over her mind hindering her ability to even think clearly, but she just got her confirmation.

She was with Faith Seed. I’m with Faith Seed…

She was in the presence of Faith Seed – futilely struggling against the accompanying Peggies guarding the herald with declining strength – the Deputy’s allies were forced to retreat from the fields they’d been ambushed in, leaving Silva at the mercy of the Siren, who drew closer with a closed fist.

Faith wasn’t angry though; in her fist were more of the white powdered Bliss she manufactured in the Henbane. Her expression lacked the emotion too. Displayed across her face was-

“Silva? Is something the matter?” Faith asked her, head on her shoulder from behind. Glancing down, she saw such beautiful green eyes conveying a worry she hadn’t seen for a long while in anyone; at least, anyone close to her.

Silva felt the fog cloud her mind again, and she could almost feel an ache pounding in her skull; like an alarm alerting of danger. But looking around the foliage and mist of the Bliss, Silva could not find the supposed danger her mind screamed was close by. Not near her, not her amour, nor the big bed they shared under the hazy sun.

She tried to remember what she had been thinking about, but couldn’t recall, as if her mind was playing tricks on her again.

“Nothing… just that,” she stammered, thinking on any possibility, before she realized she’d been touching her new necklace, and came up with a different issue, “I didn’t get you a gift.”

Faith giggled, gently tugging Silva so the latter woman could turn around to the former. Once Silva had done as instructed, Faith leaned forward and softly told her, “Having you here is more than enough of a gift for me.”

Soon, she pressed a hand against Silva’s chest and started to tenderly push her down onto the mattress of their shared bed; Faith moving closer until she straddled Silva’s hips, leaning forward above her submissive partner.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” Faith began, letting out an elated sigh as she stared down at Silva with such intense green eyes, “The grip you have on me. You never stopped invading my thoughts ever since you arrived. I could never get you out of my head, not when you showed up here, time and time again. There was always more to you than what my brothers could see… than what the Father saw.”

She descended closer to Silva’s face, continuing, “That determination. That fierceness. Most of all that cunning intellect. You’re stronger than you let on. No one’s noticed… no one except me of course.”

Faith smirked above her; a smirk Silva found familiar, something that alarmed her, interested her, left her bothered as she felt hot. She noticed that the sky above them seemed to blur from a visage of the heavens to a cold steel ceiling, the sun more akin to a bright light.

“My brothers don’t see it, or refuse to, but you’re just so… good,” Faith purred out, trailing her fingers down Silva’s face to the necklace, “So worthy of crossing Eden’s Gate. I envy that. Maybe they do too… but that could just be me.”

She giggles, and Silva found herself lost on any action she could do. Her mind seemed foggier than before. Names she knew kept slipping; important details drifting from her conscious thoughts into some sleepless dream.

“They want you though,” Faith kept speaking, even if Silva could no longer infer what exactly she was talking about, “They want you all to themselves, so they can fix you, because they think you’re already broken. But they’ll only end up breaking you instead. I don’t think you’re broken, though. I think you’re perfect. And they’ll only end up corrupting what’s so good about you.”

“But I won’t let them,” her fingers hooked under Silva’s necklace, pulling her up to meet closer to Faith’s delighted face, “Because you’re safe here, with me… in the Bliss.”

“And if they try to take you away from me,” Faith brought her hand up, beckoning a green mist of Bliss to dance around her delicate fingers through will alone, “Even though I would never go against my brothers… I’m sure I can convince them to see from my perspective. Just like those locusts from the prison…”

Faces Silva thought she recognized popped up in her mind’s eye, but they soon blurred into oblivion as all she could see was Faith.

“But it probably won’t come down to that,” Faith assured, dissipating the mist in her hands as she caressed Silva’s cheek with her palm, while her other hand flicked the pendant with that familiar smirk again, “Once they see a glimpse of this, they’ll know to back off.”

Silva recognized a dangerous glint in those green eyes, one which invoked a dying voice in her mind being drowned out by the overwhelming citrus and fog. It pushed her to do anything; anything to defy this, to refuse it. Not accept.

But all Silva could muster out was a soft, slurred question, “What makes you say that?”

In response, Faith lowered herself until they were face to face, lips barely gracing the other. A part of Silva wanted to connect… even if she wasn’t entirely sure that was what she really wanted.

“Because there’s a meaning behind it,” Faith replied, her smirk widening. Too familiar, Silva’s mind screamed as it became less and less clear, Remember, danger!

“And what’s the meaning?” she asked as that smirk reminded Silva of a memory involving it.

Silva could hardly process what came before and next; in no small part thanks to the Bliss ravaging her memories. She remembered just as Faith finally lowered herself to her lips, there was a murmur as they connected, a murmur that synchronized with the same possessive words she whispered to her fading consciousness in the aftermath of the ambush within those Bliss fields.

“You’re mine.”

[misfithive]

You should make a Wilmon pic with flower crowns

Wilmon with flower crowns 💜👑🌸

[freakishly-bookish-ant]

OMG I got it!!!! I didn't think it'd go through because of the personal id/org field (thanks for that btw -.-) but it did!!!

[rebelontherocks]

i'm having lawrence of arabia thoughts now, but that movie is so good, and I mean it is 100% a product of its time (the egregious brown face speaks for itself), but there was a sensibility towards lawrence's orientalism that was so cutting and smart! They were so careful at making it obvious that Ali loved Lawrence because he was Lawrence, a man he respected and was attracted to, but Lawrence loved Ali because he saw him as the epitome of the ideal "arab man". He exotizes him constantly, and yet Ali always saw the humanity in Lawrence while Lawrence saw a racialized ideal in him. It's a very subtle and keen depiction of a relationship doomed by cultural and racial fetishism. The ending scene where Lawrence looks back at the bedouin men wearing all black looking for Ali is so telling, he's looking for him in every arab man, because he's in love with a concept not a person.

[notnowricky]

via X

Omar has a simple 3-step plan for this situation

Step 1

Step 2

Step 3

[johnbrand]

The Power of a Name

With @next-pharaoh

The power of a name is something more influential than most people realize. It created an individual, maintained their identity that had been crafted from the womb up until that very point. It interacted with the world around them, choosing their friends, their enemies, their brothers and their lovers. Names decide brains or brawns, cools or fools, the ins and the outs of every living thing. If it was not for names, then who would we even be?

So imagine the power of a name when it is used for the good of a movement, one that has been silently expanding for hundreds of years. While other cultures were fighting wars and attempting to outscore one another, this particular movement stealthily expanded its ranks. Lineage and ancestry can be traced back through countless generations of the male line thanks to this work. Of course, we are speaking of Arabization.

There are obvious reasons as to why this movement is so strong and only has the potential to further dominate. First and most importantly, the Arab-Islamic culture exemplifies masculine ideals, creating stronger men after every new breed. Higher testosterone levels, unbreakable fraternal bonds, governing genetic codes. Their desert-bound history created more aggressive, competitive, and territorial behavior; their strict religious conviction maintain higher levels of confidence and, by right, superiority.

But if this movement is silent, then how are we able to visualize its effects? Consider the following facts: While numbers in almost all historically-dominant religions are dropping, the current Muslim population is predicted to grow more than twice in size by 2060. Islam, and the core values of Arabization along with it, will surpass Christianity as the largest religion in the world in just 25 years.

Reflecting on a local level will help illustrate these details. The branch of mathematics most widely practiced, taught, and respected is algebra, a rhetoric developed into what we use today by Muslim scholars. Arabic speakers have increased by 276% since 1910, with English speakers at 221%, Hindi speakers by 118%, and Mandarin Chinese speakers only by 96% over the same period. The Arabic name Muhammad has risen to become the top-reported baby name in the entire world when all its spellings are counted together, with Amir, Malik, Nasir, and Xavier following close behind.

With all this in mind, how has the Arabization movement utilized the power of a name? How about we make this more personal. Consider the average man, 25 years old, 5’9, and weighs roughly 197 pounds. He is flabby and balding, already considered past his prime at such a young age. Works a meaningless job, lives a meaningless life. His pale skin is a reflection of the blank resume representing his past, present, and future. All this, until a guiding Arab brother calls him by the wrong name.

“Omar!” Omar? But that was not his name. “Omar!” He hears it again, this time from a local. Eventually it seems to resonate with the people around him. At first, this average man was puzzled, but the constant repetition of the name gradually begins to rub softer, washing over his body and smoothing out his ridges. Every "Omar" scrubbed off a piece of his past, better aligning him with a brighter, browner future. 

It could start somewhere as vulnerable as porn, the average man filtering through and discarding any videos that do not feature the Arab male. Perhaps his playlists begin to reformat with Arab music, its rhythms and verses constantly playing to further seep into his brain. This restructuring can appear in the home too with a space decorated by Arab imagery, and like a vine it delicately extends further inwards and invades the average man’s very place of rest.

Soon, his interactions with the world around him begin to change. A new Arabic word slips into his everyday language, his connections and role models shift to solely Islamic men, his clothing habits adapt to his beckoning lifestyle. Generic becomes expensive, branded athleisure wear, business becomes religious attire. Each time that new name is uttered, the “Omar” inside inches a little further out.

Eventually, that “Omar” has extended far enough that the results become visibly present. The average man grows taller, broader, his fat stretched against a burgeoning muscular glory. Arms bloat thicker, legs bulge wider. His skin bronzes into a shade of brown that can only be defined as perfection, his hair blackens and thickens across his entire body. The jaw stretches, the nose inflates, the brows and lips protrude. And so too does the average man’s package, its sole purpose to breed future Arabs with its potent seed.

And once "Omar" passes the point of resonation and reaches familiarity, the average man will vanish. The power of a name, his name, Omar, means “long-living, flourishing” in Arabic, his language. And he represents it. An alpha male, an Arab male, a purebred Muslim who understands his mission. So now, Omar takes out his phone and texts a complete stranger, another average man, and simply addresses him as "Ahmed". And the cycle begins once more, the power of a name exploited for the greater good of Arabization.

[cinnaleaf]

In Your DMs: Left on Read - Ch 1: Never Say Never

summary: you left jude on read once—but after one reckless night, he’s making damn sure you never ignore him again 💫 | MDNI 18+

warnings: angst/tension, push/pull dynamic, alcohol consumption, party setting, language, sexual references, public argument, easter eggs from previous fics wc: ~5.9k (approx. 21 minutes) 💋: it’s only chapter 1… pray for them. song inspo: VeLDÁ x Bad Bunny ft Omar Courtz & Dei V

It had been two weeks since you hooked up with Jude in a drunken rendezvous, and while the dick was surprisingly fantastic, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t starting to get the ick. You gave Jude your number after you left his house that afternoon in post-orgasm delusion and he’d been bombarding your phone with texts, voice messages, unscheduled facetime calls, and random tiktoks that “reminded him of you” ever since. He clearly thought your hookup was something more, which made you regret your decision to give him any attention at all. Although pretty privilege had its perks, a world class footballer being obsessed with you was not a perk you wanted to engage in – especially when it was Jude Bellingham.

You sat in the apartment you shared with Bri and Tasha, watching your other friend, Mateo, scroll through his phone while shaking his head. “Miss girl…” he drawled with an amused grin. “They have all of your tea in 4k. All of it.” Mateo handed his phone to you and you nastily glared at the screen, annoyed that you suddenly became a part of whatever the fuck this was:

SpillTheBeansUK Looks like Jude Bellingham had his eye on something other than football two weeks ago 👀. The England star was spotted leaving a Madrid club with 21 year old Y/N, an NYU Tisch film & television student from Miami who’s currently studying abroad and very much a regular in both cities’ party scenes. Her dad is none other than THE ‘Dr. Cinch’, the mastermind behind SculptHaus Miami, the go to clinic for IG baddies and A-listers looking for that perfect CINCHED look 💉 Jude’s no stranger to being deep in a girl’s likes, but he’s been extra consistent with Y/N’s lately. What’s really going on here? Because word is, she’s not exactly the type to be impressed.. especially by ballers like him. 🤨

2Fast4VAR wait she’s from miami?? bro lost before he even started. she’s built different. 😂

CertifiedMenace69 if i was jude i’d be in her dms, comments, and her email too she’s bad af

BigBootyJudeyFC he’s about to start liking those inspirational quotes on IG like “if it’s meant to be, it will be.” 💀

MissMiamiDade305 jude better watch out... does anyone remember when she had that miami promoter crying on IG live last year?? she does NOT play with these men 💀💀

gossipgorlzzz not him liking her pics and finally getting the W! stay persistent kings!!

SpillTheBeansES Si Jude cree que puede cambiarla.. le deseo suerte 🤷‍♀️ (If Jude thinks he can change her.. I wish him luck)

JudePorFavor jude’s probably in her DMs like “pls respond angel 😩” LMAO

Baddiebydesign not dr. cinch’s daughter!! she’s set for life. face card AND her dad’s the plug? i bet her friends never have to pay for fillers 😭

AnonymousInsider13 i heard she’s cool with that real madrid baloncesto guy too…santiago something. ngl that man is fine af. if she’s choosing between him and jude i see why she’s taking her sweet time 

RedBlooded1892 maybe her dad can fix jude’s shoulder that’s about to fall off the hinge 😭 cinchdollsnob her dad literally invented half the faces we double tap. a baddie with real face card genetics. life ain’t fair. ChampagnePapiButBroke jude and his big bum liking all her pics is sending me. boy was lurking HARD

ChickenNCoke cinched bellibabe is kind of an iconic alias icl

mamacitasintl lmaooo if jude’s trying to lock her down..good luck. her dad probably has a vetting process more intense than real madrid’s medicals

nosygirlieFC jude defo heard about trent bagging the perfume baddie and thought he could do the same LOL

You were annoyed by the post to an extreme amount. Whoever was the administrator of this god awful account decided to treat you like you were some Z list Love Island reject instead of a girl who got dicked down ONE time in a moment of weakness and dipped.

Bri leaned over to scan the screen and let out a cackle. “ ‘Jude Bellingham had his eye on something other than football two weeks ago!’ ” she mimicked in a dramatized voice. 

“Ew.” You scrunched your nose in disgust. 

Tasha was deep in the comments on her own phone, scrolling at lightning speed. “No but, ‘She’s not exactly the type to be impressed… especially by ballers like him’ is so shady,” she snorted, flicking her eyes to yours. “The streets know you too well.”

Mateo looked at you with a sly grin, clasping his hands together. “Sooo...how does it feel to be a Bellingham Baddie?”

You cut your eyes at him. “Don’t fucking start.”

“It’s too late.” Bri waved her phone in the air, grinning. “Your inauguration is already underway. These people are in the comments eating it up.”

“Let me see” Mateo snatched Bri’s phone from her and started reading out loud. “ ‘She’s bad as hell, I’d be in her likes too.’ ” He smirked, flipping his wrist. “Real recognizes real.”

Tasha leaned over, giggling. “Wait, this one says ‘Jude’s in his romantic era. He’s playing the long game.’ ”

“Oh hell no. Absolutely not.” You reached for the phone but Mateo dodged you with the speed of a messy gay man who lived for drama. 

“Hold on, hold on.” He scrolled further, widening his eyes before he started howling. “Ohhh girl, not this one!” he wheezed, hardly able to get his words out. “ ‘Jude’s big bum came from Dr. Cinch? Noted.’ ”

Bri and Tasha both started laughing with tears streaming down their eyes. “Not Jude having BBL allegations because they found out who your dad is!”

You ran your hands across your face, shaking your head. “I hate this app.”

Mateo was screaming along with the other two, kicking his feet out but you really didn’t find it all that funny. “No, I LOVE this app!”

After their laughter subsided, Tasha shook her head, continuing to scroll through the comments. “The way they dug up your whole life just off one club sighting is actually insane.”

“I know. They need jobs.” You groaned, leaning back against the cushions. 

Mateo tilted his head while eyeing you. “Well, since you’re the new bombshell in the Bellingham Baddie villa, you may as well tell me...how was it?”

Bri and Tasha perked up immediately, turning to face you while giggling, mainly because they already knew. You groaned, rolling your eyes as you picked up your own phone. “It was fine.”

“Fine?” Mateo questioned, not fully believing you because you usually gave him the full rundown in detail, but this time you were holding back. “Just fine?! Don’t tell me he’s a minute man. It’s always the hot ones.”

Bri leaned in. “Mmm, I don’t know about that. Tasha and I called and she couldn’t even talk. That man blew her back out for sure.”

“In her words exactly.. it was ‘one hundred percent worth it’ ” Tasha added. “If the dick was bad she would’ve come home the next day and roasted his ass but she didn’t. She was quiet as a mouse.”

Mateo pointed at you accusingly, narrowing his eyes while analyzing you. “And you keep dodging the conversation which means it had to be amazing.”

You rolled your eyes, fake scrolling through your phone like you always did when you couldn’t look someone in the eye. “Well I don’t know about all of that now...he’s doing too much.”

Mateo snickered. “You gave him the best pussy of his life and dipped. Of course he’s doing too much.”

You groaned again, letting your head fall back against the couch. “Can y’all shut the fuck up?”

“Absolutely not.” Mateo fired back immediately, leaning forward to read you for filth. “I know you. If it was mid, you would’ve been dragging him for filth. You’d be in this living room doing a full dissertation on why that man is a waste of height.”

Tasha nodded, scrolling with purpose. “But instead you’re holding back.”

Bri suddenly gasped, pointing a finger at you. “Ooh, she likes him.”

That was where you drew the line. The suggestion that you, of all people, would be catching feelings for a footballer, let alone Jude Bellingham sent you straight into defense mode. It wasn’t even about him specifically, but merely the principle of the matter. You didn’t date athletes. Not seriously anyway. NEVER seriously. You learned a long time ago they were all the same: entitled, egotistical, and so used to women throwing themselves at their feet just because they could handle a ball and had a few viral highlight reels. They saw women as accessories, something to show off when it suited them and discard when it didn’t. You weren’t about to be anyone’s little off-season toy passed around in a group chat the second they got bored. That was never going to be you.

But ballers weren’t completely useless though, they had their perks. Stamina? Unmatched. Strength? Ideal. But once the adrenaline wore off and post-orgasm clarity set in, the appeal disappeared right along with it. You entertained a few before just for fun, just to see if they were worth the hype, but they all had one thing in common: they started thinking they were special. Like they had you hooked. Like they were pulling the strings.

It was funny, really. Because if anything? They were always the ones falling first. Every time.

Jude was proving to be no different. The way he sauntered up to you in the club as if he knew where the night was headed, versus the way his ego deflated the minute you left his messages on read for weeks was textbook athlete behavior. And now? He was chasing you.

Mateo tapped the edge of his phone against his palm, watching you with an expression that made it very clear he was about to ask something that would grate your nerves.

“So what’s really going on with you and Jude?” He tilted his head, brows raised in intrigue. “Like.. what is he to you?”

You didn’t even look up from your phone and scrolled as you answered, “A pronoun.”

Mateo’s mouth dropped open, delighted by your messy answer. “Be so fucking for real Y/N” he said, crossing one leg over the other. “If he’s just a pronoun to you then why did you give him your number?”

Tasha didn’t even give you a chance to answer before jumping in. “That’s actually a great fucking question. Because you knew giving him your number meant this...” she gestured to the entire situation, the group chat chaos, the SpillTheBeansUK mess, “so why did you do it?”

You sighed dramatically, tilting your head back against the couch from being exhausted by all of this nonsense. “He asked for it, so I gave it.”

Bri blinked at you. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Mateo was unconvinced. “And you just gave it to him? No hesitation? No thoughts?”

“I was in a state of post-nut delusion.” You shrugged, sipping from your water bottle to avoid any further questions.

Tasha sucked her teeth. “Mmm.” 

Bri was already side-eyeing you. “Mmhmm.” 

Mateo tapped his phone again, unimpressed. “Lying just like the mattress he put you through, I see.”

You ignored them. There was a very brief moment where you considered not giving him your number. You could’ve just taken your Uber and dipped, pretended like it never happened, and gone back to your normal, Bellingham-free existence. But Jude gave you a cocky, half lidded smirk that made you fold immediately when he asked. You figured your brain was still stuck somewhere between your legs for wanting to hear from him again, which was exactly why you were so annoyed with yourself. Not only was he blowing up your phone, but now you were on SpillTheBeansUK. You scrolled through the endless posts dissecting your one mistake, making you feel more irritated with every new comment. There were threads analyzing your every move, posts tracking Jude’s IG likes, and an entire debate about whether or not you were “Jude’s type.” 

“How do these people have so much free time? Is the unemployment rate that high?” you muttered, aggressively tapping out of Instagram. “I was in the same club as him one time, and suddenly I’m the internet’s main character of the day? I fucking hate it here.”

Bri snickered, nudging Tasha. “Not her being mad when she willingly chose to leave with him.”

You shot the nastiest glare at both of them.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Bri challenged, raising her brow.

She wasn’t wrong. You did willingly leave with him. You hated the attention and the way people were dissecting your life, but you weren’t completely mad at the way Jude was acting. Mainly because he wasn’t just moving on like it never happened and letting you fade into the background. He was still chasing you. And even if you never wanted to admit it.. you liked that.

Your phone pinged in your hand to bring you out of your thoughts, making you glance down at your notifications.

JUDE BELLINGHAM ❌ 🙄 17:43 - Did I do something?? 17:51 - Because I’m struggling to believe I had you screaming my name two weeks ago but now you’re airing me. 18:02 - Hello? 18:27 - Ok I get it. I know you don’t really do this athlete thing. 18:28 - I’m not blocked though 👀 18:42 - Let me take you out?

You rolled your eyes before switching to a different text thread.

SANTI DOMINGUEZ 🏀 🇩🇴 20:42 - Y/Nitaaa que haces esta noche? (what are you doing tonight?) 20:42 - Fiesta en La Finca at mi pana’s house for the night. Big ass infinity pool, drinks, music, todo. Pull up. 20:43 - Bring your friends too. Dime que si. (Tell me yes.)

You smiled, already typing out a response.

20:45 - A party in La Finca? Bet. 20:46 - We’re coming. You better have good drinks!

Santi hearted the message instantly.

20:47 - Siempre, preciosa. Nos vemos. (Always, gorgeous. See you soon.)

You liked Santi. He was one of the few people in Madrid who weren’t constantly on some clout chasing nonsense, which meant you actually enjoyed being around him. And even though he could be a little flirty, it wasn’t serious. 

You were just about to lock your phone when another text rolled in.

JUDE BELLINGHAM ❌ 🙄 20:48 - Your dad is a plastic surgeon??

You frowned, watching as a second message came in.

— [SpillTheBeansUK post]

Oh. He really was chronically online. 

“Ew,” you muttered from the ick of it all before typing out your own response.

20:48 - why the fuck are you sending me STB links like you’re a gossip girl admin? touch grass.

There was no immediate response but you knew he probably read it the second the notification popped up on his phone. He was probably typing, stopping, then typing again, trying to figure out how to keep you engaged without pushing too far. It was funny really, the difference between the two of them. Santi would text once, maybe twice most of the time and you would reply immediately with no hesitation. Meanwhile, Jude would send text after text, throw in tiktoks, voice messages and a Facetime call here and there, which made you want to take your sweet time responding.

You could already feel the looks your friends were giving you, but Mateo was the first to speak.

“So you answer Santiago immediately but Jude has to beg for a response?” He smirked, already piecing together what would likely go down tonight at the party. Tasha hummed in agreement and glanced over your shoulder at your phone. “She doesn’t even respond to us that fast but Santi texts and suddenly her fingers work?”

You locked your phone and flipped it over on the table so they wouldn’t see any other message notifications from Jude or Santi. “It’s not that deep.” 

“It is that deep,” the three of them spoke in unison. 

Tasha pointed at your phone and then crossed her arms. “Explain.”

You stretched your arms over your head, already starting to prepare your exit strategy. “I don’t have to explain anything.”

“Oh, but you do,” Bri countered, shifting to face you. “Because you clearly like the attention from both of them.”

You let out a sharp exhale and grabbed your phone, making your way to your bedroom. “I have to get ready for the party and I suggest y’all do the same if you’re coming.”

You dropped your phone onto the bed and stood in front of your wardrobe, biting your lip while you scanned through your options. La Finca pool parties weren’t the same as your club nights. The vibe was more laid back but the guest list was usually stacked with the most beautiful people you’d ever seen, so naturally you had to one up them and show them how a Miami girl stepped out. Just as you were grabbing a cropped halter top from the hanger, your phone vibrated against your comforter and you snatched it up immediately.

JUDE BELLINGHAM ❌ 🙄 20:58 - Touch grass with me. What’s the move tonight?

You debated telling him about the party, but you decided against it and threw your phone back on the bed with a scoff to finish getting ready. Although he was giving you the ick, something about the way he chased you fed a very specific, very vain part of you and you would be lying if you didn’t admit you weren’t the least bit curious in how far Jude was willing to take it. 

Somewhere outside of your room, you could hear Bri and Tasha moving around, digging through wardrobe drawers and arguing over what top to wear. Mateo’s voice floated down the hall, loudly reminding everyone that if they didn’t hurry up, he was leaving without all of you.

An hour later, the four of you piled into a car with the windows down as the city lights of Madrid blurred past. The further you drove into La Finca, the bigger the homes became. When you finally pulled up to the house, you could hear a mix of reggaeton, afrobeats and spanish trap music playing through the air. The garden surrounding the property was already full of people with drinks in hand as they laughed and swayed to the music. 

You made your way to the pool area, smelling the mixed scent of tangy smoke from hookah and rum. You adjusted your top, feeling the backless cut brush your skin in the breezy, but warm night time air as you walked on the stone pathway. Your matching mini skirt hugged your hips just right and dipped low enough to show the string of your bikini bottoms underneath. Your small entourage followed behind you, already plotting the kind of chaos they could get into tonight.

Mateo adjusted the collar of his shirt, scoping out the scene. “I’m manifesting a man with a villa tonight. Just watch.”

“Manifest being the bartender while you’re at it” Tasha muttered, eyeing the outdoor bar where bottles of Ron Barcelo, Brugal, and Larios gin were already in rotation. Someone had cracked open a case of Estrella Galicia beers, and a group near the pool was passing around cups of Kalimotxo, the unofficial drink of every wild night in Spain.

“Vamonos mamis!” Santi yelled from somewhere near the pool. 

His height alone made him impossible to miss. He was a towering 6’5”, had broad shoulders with a trim waist, perfectly white teeth, dimples, deep sun kissed skin, and a freshly trimmed fade that made you tilt your head slightly to take a better look. He had that natural Dominican aura that made it impossible to tell whether he was flirting or just being nice.

“Oh, you’re outside, outside tonight!” he teased, sliding his arm around your waist for a quick hug. He glanced behind you and smiled at Bri, Tasha and Mateo. “Good to see you all. Drinks are in the kitchen. Hookah’s by the pool.”

“And you’re where?” Bri asked, arching a brow while biting the nail of her finger flirtatiously.

“Everywhere.” Santi winked, then tilted his head back toward the pool. “Come find me if you need anything.” He disappeared back into the crowd before any of you had time to respond, leaving the scent of his cologne lingering between all of you.

“Oooh he’s wearing Rêveur.” Tasha nodded in approval, taking a second glance back to get another look at him. “That man has taste.” 

“But why is he so fineee?” Bri muttered under her breath.

Mateo snickered. “Because God had time when he made Dominican men that’s why.”

You hated gassing men up too much, so you gave them a blank stare, eventually walking away to make your way toward the drinks as Bad Bunny’s “VeLDÁ” played through the sound system. They followed behind and Mateo took on his duty as bartender, rummaging through bottles of Havana Club and Brugal Añejo.

“Shots or mixed drinks?” Mateo asked, double fisting bottles in his hands.

“Mixed” you answered immediately.

“Shots” Bri and Tasha dueted.

“Majority rules, sorry Y/N” Mateo mused as he reached for the shot glasses.

On the other side of the yard, Jude leaned back in an outdoor lounge chair, resting his arms lazily while his drink sat half empty on the table in front of him. He wasn’t drunk, but the warmth of Madrid, the drinks, and the atmosphere had him leaning into the mood.

“That’s her?” Cama tilted his head toward the cluster of people near the pool, smiling with curiosity.

Jude didn’t answer at first and stared at the condensation on his glass before moving his eyes back to you. He clocked you as soon as you stepped on the stone pathway, he couldn’t have missed you even if he tried. The backless halter top with the matching mini skirt, coupled with the sheen of your Dior lip oil catching in the light every time you tilted your head back to laugh, had his head spinning. Even from a distance, he could see the faint tan lines peeking from under the straps of your bikini strings underneath your outfit.

“Damn..” Kylian whistled beside him, leaning forward to take a closer look at Bri and Tasha. “Who are the girls next to her though?”

Jude glanced sideways, trying to suppress a smirk. “Focus mate.”

“I am focused,” Kylian replied with a laugh, still scanning the scene.

Cama chuckled and nudged Jude’s arm. “She looks good, bro. You bringing her home tonight or what?”

Jude tilted his head, taking another slow sip of his drink. “We’ll see. She likes to play hard to get.”

“Does she know you’re here?” Kylian asked as if he cared, when he was actually plotting on Bri and Tasha.

“Nah.”

The truth sat heavy on his chest. He hadn’t expected to run into you tonight, but then again, Madrid was a small world when it came to hanging around certain circles. It was bound to happen eventually. But seeing you laughing with your friends did something to him that he wasn’t ready to unpack.

“You should go over there” Cama suggested, nudging Jude’s arm. 

“Not yet.” Jude replied, following the curve of your bare shoulders as you tipped your head back to down a shot with your friends. The twist of your face from the burn of the alcohol, along with the parting of your lips made it too easy to remember the way those same lips felt against him just two weeks ago.

—

The shot you had just taken settled warmly in your stomach while the bass from the music grew heavier. The music was loud, the air filled with scents of alcohol, sweat, and smoke but none of it could shake the buzz in your head from spotting Jude in the party crowd.

Of all the parties in Madrid, he had to be at this one.

You clutched your glass tighter, trying to resist the urge to look back at the lounge chairs near the pool. Bri crossed her arms and smirked, darting her eyes between you and Jude. “So you’re just gonna ignore him all night?”

“Ignore who?” you replied flatly, knowing damn well who she was talking about.

“Oh girl. Pack it up.” Tasha chimed in from your other side while swaying to the beat of the music. “You know exactly who.”

“No. I don’t.” you muttered, wiping off the condensation wetness from your fingertips.

“Then why are you gripping the glass like that?” Bri teased, bumping your hip with hers.

You ignored her and instead scanned the crowd for any sign of Santi. You spotted him leaning against a pillar with a bottle of beer in hand, laughing at something one of his teammates said. His crisp white shirt clung to his torso, making you gawk just a little. When he caught your gaze, he lifted his beer and gave you a blinding smile.

Tasha clocked it immediately and raised her eyebrows. “Well.. looks like you have options tonight. Bellingham or Dominguez?”

You sighed heavily, ignoring her again and headed to the pool to dip your feet in. The infinity pool stretched out in front of you as you swung your legs back and forth in the water. You should’ve felt relaxed, or maybe even carefree and tipsy, but instead you were on edge.

On the other side of things, now that you were closer, Jude watched you from the rim of his glass as he took long, slow sips. Kylian and Cama were talking next to him but their words turned into background noise while he observed the way you leaned back with your hands pressed against the pool deck stone.

“She’s going to notice you staring eventually” Kylian leaned in, sensing Jude still had you on his mind.

Jude tilted his head back to finish his drink. The thought of you being so close yet so far away made the alcohol sit heavier in his stomach. You hadn’t really been giving him much of a thought since you hooked up and that bothered him. It made him want you even more. He internally debated with himself, wondering if he should just leave you alone or speak up now that he had an opening that you absolutely couldn’t leave on read. Just as he was about to stand, Cama clapped him on the shoulder with a wide grin. “Go talk to her bro. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She could throw her drink in his face..” Kylian added helpfully.

Jude snorted. “Nah. I don’t think she’s like that.”

He really didn’t know you as well as he thought he did, you were definitely ‘like that’ if the need arose. 

Jude stood up with enough adrenaline and liquid courage to walk the short path to the pool’s edge where you sat. You felt his towering presence immediately as he stood with his hands tucked into his pockets, glancing toward you swishing your feet in the water.

“You ignoring my texts now?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, surprised that he had the gall to start the conversation off that way. “You’re not serious.”

A gleam of moonlight caught on his lips when he shifted closer to you with a lazy smirk plastered over his face. “I get it. You’re a busy girl. But you could’ve at least told me you would be here tonight.”

“For what? Why would I tell you?” you countered, looking up at him in annoyance. “I don’t even know you like that.” The nerve of this boy to think he deserved to know any of your moves when he wasn’t your man, or anything remotely close to it.

“You know me well enough to let me fuck..”

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “Excuse me?”

Jude tilted his head, still with a dumb smirk on his face that made you want to slap it clean off his face. His hands were still tucked in his pockets casually, like he wasn’t standing there stirring the most out of you.

“I’m just saying..” he lazily shrugged, as if that would smooth over the conversation.

“Oh, ‘you’re just saying’ ” you mocked, standing up to meet his eye, though you still ended up having to look up because he was so tall. The edge of your skirt brushed against his thigh and you were close enough to see the sheen of sweat on his thick hairline from the warm night air. Up close, Jude was hard to ignore. He got under your skin in the right way to make you give him your full attention.

Just the way he liked it.

“And this is coming from the same man blowing up my phone like I owe him something.”

Jude chuckled under his breath, his eyes moving briefly to your outfit before locking back onto your eyes. “I wouldn’t have to blow your phone up if you just responded the first time, angel.”

Angel.

That word hit you straight in your core. It was impossible not to hear his voice from that night echoing in your head.

“That’s it, angel. Keep fucking me back.”

You took a deep inhale through your nose, clenching your fists on your sides as heat flared through your chest from frustration and other things you weren’t ready to name.

“Don’t call me that” you snapped, but the hitch in your breath told a different story. A story that said you liked it, and Jude noticed. His eyes lowered to your lips briefly, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward like he knew exactly where your mind went. 

“Ohhh, so you do remember” he mused, clearly enjoying himself.

“Jude, I swear-” You shoved his shoulder but he barely moved in the slightest bit. He stood his ground, leaning into your ear to speak low enough so only you could hear. “Don’t start. Unless you’re trying to start something you know I can finish for you.”

“You’re so fucking full of yourself, you know that?”

The warmth from the alcohol running through your veins made your voice louder than you intended, making you become acutely aware of the heads starting to turn your way. In between your conversation with Jude, Tasha and Bri made their way over to sit with Kylian and Cama near the lounge chairs. Bri was sitting on Kylian’s lap with her arms draped over his neck like they knew each other way longer than what had to have been no longer than 15 minutes. All four of them were watching the scene unfold with varying degrees of amusement.

“Okay, fuck this” you muttered under your breath, feeling the embarrassment creep in. Eyes on you and whispers spreading throughout the crowd was the exact type of thing you wanted to avoid. Your mind flashed to the SpillTheBeans post and the comments dissecting your entire life, snapping you right back to the cruel reality of being a newly added ‘Bellingham Baddie’, as your friends called it.

“This is exactly why I don’t fucking date athletes” you jabbed a finger at Jude’s chest for emphasis.

“Who said anything about dating?”

You laughed in disbelief and threw your hands up. The tipsiness loosened your filter in all the wrong ways. “You know what? I’m so sick of-”

“Todo bien?” (Everything okay?)

The sound of Santi’s voice made you freeze mid sentence. You turned around just enough to see him approaching with an unbothered walk, beer still in hand like he wasn’t about to walk straight into chaos. His eyes moved between you and Jude, reading the situation.

“We’re good.” you answered, holding up your hand toward Santi as if that would somehow deescalate whatever was about to go down.

“Didn’t look like it,” Santi eyed Jude in a way that was more curious than confrontational, but Jude wasn’t having it, being the crashout that he was.

“You her bodyguard or something?” Jude shot, tilting his chin as he stepped fully into Santi’s space. Santi’s smile didn’t budge but his posture shifted subtly enough to raise the tension up a couple notches. “Nah. I’m just looking out for a friend” he replied coolly, not breaking eye contact.

“Yeah? Well, she doesn’t need you to–”

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!” you yelled loud enough to cut through the music and all the other conversations happening around the pool. Heads turned with the rise of your voice and half of the party had their eyes locked on the three of you, but you were too far gone, and too far drunk to care.

“I am so tired of you men acting like I’m some prize you get to win!” You jabbed a finger between both of them in frustration. “I don’t fucking belong to either of you! And you..” You turned to Jude with fire in your eyes. “Stop acting like I owe you something just because I let you fuck me ONE time!”

Jude’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“And you..” You whipped back to Santi, who at least had the decency to look slightly guilty. “Don’t walk up here like you’re about to save me! I don’t fucking need saving!”

The silence was deafening after the read you gave them, broken only by the distant sound of water pushing against the pool edge and gossiping chatter from the crowd.

Finally, Jude ran a hand over his curls, exhaling hard through his nose. “You done?”

“Yes, I’m done! I’m never fucking you again so get it out of your thick skulled head!” you snapped and stormed off toward the house without looking back. 

Back at the lounge chairs, Kylian and Cama exchanged looks while Bri and Tasha creased in laughter.

“I don’t know whether to be scared or impressed..” Kylian shook his head in amusement.

“Definitely impressed,” Cama replied with a grin.

You stormed off down the path leading toward the house, weaving through random groups of partiers who definitely caught at least half of the argument. The adrenaline and frustration swirling around in your head had you on ten.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?” you spoke to yourself, enraged. “I fucking hate ballers. Worms for brains ass motherfuckers.”

The nerve and audacity of that man to approach you like he was owed something more than the one night you already gave him pissed you off. Your chest was filled with a fury of emotions you really didn’t want to unpack, especially not in the middle of a party where half of the crowd had probably pulled out their phones to message their group chats about what they just witnessed. As soon as you reached the back door of the house, Mateo appeared beside you out of nowhere, moving swiftly to match your quick pace.

“Girl.. what was all of that?” he asked, eyes wide with equal parts concern and curiosity.

“Nothing.” you muttered with clenched teeth, but Mateo wasn’t having it.

“Nothing? That was prime telenovela content and I need details immediately. Why did-”

“I’m never fucking Jude again,” you snapped, cutting him off before he had a chance to launch his full analysis. It sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than anyone else. Mateo knew Jude having you this bothered by his presence meant you’d be rethinking that exact statement in approximately three to five business days. He’d seen it all before, so instead of pushing any further, he took one sip of his drink and gave a knowing look between you, Santiago, and Jude.

“Mmm… never say never.”

[omarrudberg-confessions]

[mimikyufriend]

Update as of 10/5/24

Since several of the fundraisers I selected are no longer available, I will be focusing future donations toward Omar and his family. All funds that go through me will go toward Omar. I will also be accepting proof of donation of $25 or more to any of the active fundraisers linked below.

I'm hoping to fill the last 9 slots and reach a goal of $300 total donated. I also would like to make alternate versions of characters who've already been completed so that we can raise even more.

Commission Details

64x64 pixel portraits from the chest up

choose how the character is posed (facial expression, portrait vs 3/4 angle, etc.)

choose whether you want canon appearance or your hc/au (potential for more than one slot per character)

Payment

Option 1

$10 upfront

remaining $15 after completion

preferably through paypal to making transfering funds easier

I will then provide proof of payment to the specified gofundme both privately and publicly

Option 2

provide a screenshot showing a $25+ donation to any of the available fundraisers linked below.

Contact

please direct message, don't send asks

this account or @aseasoninseason (the latter is preferable)

if you're unable to send messages for whatever reason, my email is aseasoninseason@gmail.com

Fundraisers

(all gofundmes were chosen using gazafunds)

Omar and Family (€25 raised + an additional €20 from the recipient)

Iman

Abdullah and Nour

Ahmed at Al-Aqsua Hospital

Emad's Family

Asmahan

Northern and Southern Gaza Distribution

Dr. Khaled

Walaa and Family

Al-Ameen's Family

If you are uninterested in or unable to commission me, I implore you to donate what you can to one of the fundraisers linked above.

If you have any questions about the process, please feel free to send an ask or reply to this post.

Proof of donations below:

[amal-alhaj]

New Year🎄

New Beginnings 🫶✨

As the world celebrates the start of a new year, my children, Rolan and Omar, remind me of the simple joys of life that many of us take for granted. Here in Gaza, hunger and hardship overshadow many moments, yet the hope in their eyes keeps us moving forward.

This year, I dream of bringing smiles to their faces. A small gift or a thoughtful gesture could light up their hearts and make them feel the joy every child deserves. If you would like to help, your generosity can make a profound difference not just by providing essential food and support, but also by bringing happiness into their lives.

Rolan and Omar would love to receive even a small surprise. It could be

a warm jacket,choose a gift from the pictures.👇

or anything that shows someone cares. Your kindness would not only ease their struggles but also fill their hearts with joy and laughter.

Let's make 2025 a year of love, sharing, and compassion. Together, we can create a brighter future for the children of Gaza.

Send your gifts and donations to bring hope and happiness today.

Donation link 🫶👇

@aroacejokes @ttohrus @prisonhannibal @quagsiredoesnotfuck @turntboyz @iammuchanger @iamjustthinkin @generationstylefashion @fireyfobbitmedicine @tasteofyourblood @lesbiandeancas @chimney-begins @ratmanwalking @aleksstroud @shellofashadow @ibtisams-blog @buttercupart @wlwaerith-moved @vetted-gaza-funds @sayrunhh @ripthebandaidoff @straycatj @thunderstruck9 @haflacky @catasters @northgazaupdates2 @northwezt @northernsiberiawinds

Vetted by✅

@bilal-salah0

@gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #135 )

@gaza-evacuation-funds

@el-shab-hussein

verified on the list is ( #366 )

[theoneandonlycoralinejones]

Louis TWDG x reader - Opposites Attract

Warnings: None :)

(This takes place in a world where Marlon hasn’t died yet and the raiders aren’t a threat yet.)

     You had been staying at the Ericson Boarding School for troubled youth with the rest of everyone for a while now. You came with your friends, Clementine and AJ.

     The three of you were found by Marlon, after you had gotten into a car crash together.

     Since then, It's been a couple of months, and you've made quite a few friends here! You and Violet typically had late night talks, you helped Marlon out by hunting for food and scavenging; and generally you got along well with everyone. 

     Everyone; except for one person. That person being Louis. 

    He had a very laid back personality, one that you had a hard time getting along with. You felt all his flirting and teasing was gonna end him up with a huge zombie chomp. But, you still got along with him decently, he wasn’t your enemy, per se, just sort of opposites from you. 

     It was nighttime, and everyone was outside when Louis called for one of his infamous card games. This time, though, it wasn’t war. It had a slight twist,

"Let's play truth or dare, the highest card gets to truth or dare the lowest card!"

     We all pull cards, and you look around and then at mine. You got the lowest card.

     And who would’ve guessed, the person with the highest card was good ol’ Louis. 

“Truth or dare?” He says with a shit-eating grin.

“Uhhm, truth.” You sigh. 

He crosses his arms and thinks, “Hmm, out of everyone here, who would you want to be the last person on Earth with?” 

“Huh,” You look over to Clem, “Probably Clem, she’s got my back.” you smile, 

     He seems a little bit dissatisfied with your answer, hoping for something a little more out of character from you, but the game carries on and everyone picks a card again. The next couple turns are pretty normal and fun, nothing too crazy. It takes a while for the lowest card to be yours again. This time the highest card was Violet. 

“Truth or dare?” She says tilting her head. 

“Uhh, truth.”

“Again? Someone’s playing it safe,” Louis chimes in teasingly. 

     Violet rolls her eyes with a smile, “Shut up, Louis. ..anyways,” She hunches over on the picnic table and looks up as she thinks for a moment. 

“Hmm, you know, speaking of Louis, why do you talk about him so much?” She smirks sneakily. 

     A subtle ‘Oooooo’ can be heard by everyone else at the table. All of their eyes went on you, who was now wide eyed and slightly sweaty. 

“Whaaaaaat? I don’t! W- what’re you talking about?” You deny.

Violet shakes her head, her smile remaining. Her whole demeanor is nonchalant and sort of sleepy as she’s talking, “Well if I recall, you talk; a lot. And about half of it is about Sir Louis over here.” 

     You just sit there for a moment with a dumbfounded look on your face while at a loss for words. The truth is, you did talk about Louis, not in a positive light though. It was more complaining about how annoying he was than anything, but she was right, you did talk about him a lot. And even you couldn’t explain why.

“Uhh, I think I choose dare instead.” 

    Everyone around the table laughed at this, and you somehow played off the question and evaded further questions about it. The game went on for just a few more rounds, you got the top card and ended up daring Omar to do a handstand, which he gracefully failed at, and then eventually the long night came to a close. 

   We cleaned up the courtyard, turned out the lights, and then everyone headed off to their dorm rooms. Except for one person, who followed behind you to yours. Louis. 

“Hey, hey (Y/N),” He walked up behind you before you could walk inside your room.

You turn back to him, groaning slightly, “What is it, Louis? I’m really tired.”

“I know, I know, It’ll just be a minute.” 

“Sooo… why do you talk about me so much huh?” He teases with a smirk. 

You sigh and cross your arms, “Louis… I promise you it isn’t as deep as you think it is,”

“Or isss it?” He hums in a sing-song voice.

You sigh, “I dunno. You heard Violet, I talk a lot, I love to ramble to her, I don’t even remember what I say.” I shrug. 

“Are you sure it’s not cuz you… LIKE me?” He tilts his head forwards and looks at you with a cheesy smirk on his face. His hands placed in his jacket pockets. 

   You pause for a second, a slight tint of red on your face, but you immediately purge the thought and regain your composure. You smirk back, crossing your arms and tilting your head up.

“In your dreams, mister.” 

He shrugs, “Welp..” 

“I do hope to see you in them tonight,” He smiles as he casually walks away, wishing you goodnight.

    You shake your head as you watch him walk away,

    He really is something else. 

/ / / / / /

I post my writings on wattpad but nobody seems to be seeing them there so I'm posting them here as well <3 if you have requests put them in my ask box, I think it's set up, I just made this new account so i'll have to check lol, thx for reading !

[lakewithnofish]

do you have any history/theory recs that you would consider foundational to your current political awareness? i'm trying to expand my own understanding but theory is kind of fresh to me, and was wondering if you have any recs or advice for how to choose/parse through it

yes i'm not well-read or very politically educated by any means but i have a few recs! theory gets easier to read the more you read it, and easier to understand and retain the more you talk about it with others and take your own notes - if you can make a study group with a friend or two it helps a lot. i think fanon and freire are both very accessible entry points

the wretched of the earth, frantz fanon

pedagogy of the oppressed, paulo freire

state and revolution, lenin

blood in my eye, george jackson

more specific/historical

everyday life during the north korean revolution, suzy kim

song of arirang, kim san and nym wales

death of somoza, darwin flakoll and claribel alegría

the black jacobins, clr james

the question of hamas and the left, abduljawad omar (essay)

has china turned to capitalism?, domenico losurdo (essay)

the blowback podcast is a really great resource for history of american empire. so far there's seasons covering iraq, cuba, korea, afghanistan, and cambodia. also guerilla history which has a different guest every episode.

also just found the black liberation army's study guide from 1977 which breaks down a ton of material

[psychotrenny]

I really do think this is the end for Israel. The beginning of the end at least. They're essentially a relic of an earlier time, a time when, through a complex confluence of factors, the military power of Europe was so far beyond the rest of the world that it could openly keep the world in shackles. The Imperial powers of Europe could do as they wished and respond to any resistance with overwhelming violence that, no matter how costly in money or lives or how many years it took, would eventually force open resistance to come to a (temporary) end. You saw exceptions of course, such as Ethiopia's successful repulsion of Italian invaders in the 1890s (although even that victory is somewhat undercut but Italy's more successful invasion about 40 years later), but in the majority of cases even the most brave and intelligent of resistance fighters would see themselves worn down and defeated. Just off the top of my head you have figures like Samori Toure, Omar al-Mukhtar, Samuel Maharero; all inflicted numerous defeats on their European Imperialist enemies but in the end couldn't overcome the sheer force that was arrayed against them.

Of course such supremacy was never absolute even at it's apex, and this height was so very short lived. Resistance never fully stopped; outbursts of violence were frequent and various forms of passive resistance like migration, tax evasion and industrial slowdown were ubiquitous. Resistance movements learned from past failures, acquired the weapons of modern war and soon proved a credible threat to the Imperialist forces that by the middle of the 20th century had exhausted themselves through in-fighting. Whether evicted through direct violence or choosing to leave under the inevitable threat of it, the European powers largely ended their direct domination over the colonised world. That's not to say Imperialism was over, far from it, but it mostly took on subtler forms; more soft power with only the occasional resort to hard. Imperial domination is now more than ever exerted through various local proxies and the broader forces that keep them in check as direct subjugation just isn't especially viable.

In the parts of the world without substantial settler populations this withdrawal was accomplished smoothly enough; most of the Europeans present either left without a fuss or found some sort of niche under the new order of things. But the liberation of colonies with large settler populations was a longer and bloodier process; just compare the French withdrawal from Indochina to that from Algeria or the fate of Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia) to Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe). A large number of Europeans were heavily entrenched in these colonies and had both their material wealth and sense of pride tied to the maintenance of white supremacy. Many politicians back in Europe were less willing to abandon such settler colonies, while with or without support from back home the colonists engaged in their own bloody wars of oppression against indigenous people.

But in the end they all fell. Algeria, Rhodesia, Angola, South Africa, the list goes on. Even as these places continue to suffer under the yoke of less direct Imperialism they can take pride knowing that the scourge of direct setter subjugation was defeated. Exploiting people is one thing; there are many ways you can accomplish this without the exploited truly catching on. But the sort of violence it takes to brazenly steal control of a people's land, settle yourself on it while keeping the original inhabitants as second class citizens is going to engender the fiercest resistance no matter what. The only remotely stable settler colonies are those where the indigenous peoples were already decimated by disease before being subjected to centuries of genocidal policies, reducing their current population to a small minority of the nation. And even then the survives continue to resist fiercely. In places where the settlers remained the minority there was simply no chance of such regimes surviving for long.

Israel as a state is among the last of its kind, and I see no reason why it shouldn't meet the fate of all other such colonies. The way I see it the end of Israel is inevitable. The only question is just how much bloodshed and suffering it'll take. The struggle has been ongoing for so very long. I truly hope that we're seeing the final stages of it, but I suppose only time can tell. All I know for sure is that from from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free

[paucubarsisimp]

hey bae hope alls well and i gots a REQUEST since i noticed ur post from earlier saying u will take some willingly 🥹🙏🏻🩵

imagine of omar marmoush where reader is playing dress up with him, picking fits for him from his wardrobe because he is particularly indecisive on what to wear for their date night that day 🩵🩵🩵 i thought it would be so fitting bc hes such a fashion guyy

wardrobe crisis

pairing: omar marmoush x reader

summary: in which omar can’t pick what to wear

warnings: none

tagged: @slavicprincess1966, @barcapix, @universefcb, lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

a/n: i hope you like it love! 💋

it was a quiet saturday afternoon, and you were looking forward to your date with omar . after a week of hectic schedules and endless commitments, you two finally had some time to yourselves. the plan was simple—dinner at a new, cozy restaurant you both had been meaning to try. just a night to relax and enjoy each other’s company.

you were in the living room, putting on a bit of makeup when you heard the faint sound of omar’s voice coming from the bedroom. curious, you wandered down the hallway to find him standing in front of his wardrobe, holding up two shirts and staring at them like they were the most complicated decision he’d ever faced. his clothes were scattered all around the room, creating a mess only someone who didn’t want to admit they couldn’t choose would leave.

you leaned against the doorframe, trying not to laugh. “omar, what’s going on in here?”

he looked up at you with a helpless expression, clearly frustrated. “habibti, i’m having a crisis,” he sighed dramatically, letting the shirts fall to the floor. “i can’t decide what to wear. do i go casual? do i dress up? i just want to look good for our date.”

you walked into the room, surveying the chaos around him. “you’re telling me you can’t pick an outfit?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “you play football in front of thousands of people every week, and now you’re overthinking this?”

he shrugged, a sheepish grin on his face. “yeah, but it’s different when it’s for you. i want to look nice… for you.”

your heart melted at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile. “alright, alright. i got you,” you said with a teasing smile. “let me pick something for you. but you have to trust me.”

omar laughed, clearly relieved. “i trust you, habibti,” he said, giving you a wink. “you always know what’s best.”

you walked over to his closet, pulling out a pair of dark jeans, a fitted white shirt, and a sleek black jacket. you tossed them onto the bed, looking at omar with a confident nod. “this will do the trick. simple but classy. you’ll look perfect.”

omar eyed the outfit with some doubt. “it looks… simple,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “is that too much, though?”

“no,” you said, shaking your head. “it’s perfect. trust me, you don’t need anything flashy. you’re already a catch.”

he smiled, a little more reassured. “alright, i’ll go with it. thank you.”

after a quick shower, omar came out, dressed in the outfit you’d chosen. he looked effortlessly handsome. the dark jeans fit just right, and the white shirt made his skin glow. the black jacket added a polished touch without being too much, and his hair was styled to perfection, just messy enough to look like he hadn’t tried at all.

you couldn’t help but stare for a moment. “well?” he asked, spinning around for you. “how do i look?”

you walked over to him, letting your gaze linger for a second before answering, “perfect. i think i made a good choice.”

omar chuckled, his smile widening. “you always do, habibti.”

he reached for your hand, and you both headed out the door, walking into the quiet evening. the drive to the restaurant was easy, the air crisp with a slight chill, and the streets were less crowded than usual, making everything feel more intimate. as you walked into the cozy, dimly-lit restaurant, you immediately felt the stress of the week melt away. it was just the two of you, in your own little world.

“i’m really glad we’re doing this,” omar said as you sat down at your table, his voice soft and genuine. he reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “i feel like we’ve both been running non-stop lately.”

you squeezed his hand, smiling at him. “me too. i think sometimes we forget to just be with each other, you know? life gets so busy.”

he nodded, his gaze softening. “yeah. it’s easy to get lost in everything else. but when i’m with you, everything feels… right.”

you leaned forward slightly, your voice barely above a whisper. “you make everything feel right, omar.”

he smiled warmly, his fingers brushing lightly over yours. “you’re too sweet, habibti.”

the night passed effortlessly, filled with laughter, easy conversation, and plenty of moments where it felt like the world had stopped just for the two of you. the meal was delicious, but it didn’t matter much to either of you—the evening was all about being together. you talked about everything: your dreams, your favorite movies, funny stories from childhood, and even some deeper things about the future.

as you finished dessert, omar leaned back in his chair, looking at you thoughtfully. “you know, it’s these moments that i miss when things get hectic,” he said, his voice quieter now. “just time with you. no pressure. no expectations.”

you nodded, the warmth of the evening filling you up. “i know what you mean. it’s easy to forget how important these moments are when everything’s moving so fast.”

omar smiled, his eyes never leaving yours. “we need to make more of these moments. promise me?”

you grinned, squeezing his hand. “promise.”

when the meal was over, you both took a slow stroll through the quiet streets, hand in hand, the evening air cool against your skin. as you reached the apartment building, omar stopped and pulled you into a hug, holding you close for a moment longer than usual.

“thank you for tonight,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “it was perfect.”

you smiled against his chest, wrapping your arms around him tighter. “anytime, omar. anytime.”

the night ended quietly, just the two of you—together, as it should be.

[rwshfordgirl]

TIME CAPSULE

all the images were taken from pinterest.

where nine years ago, she wrote a letter confessing that she liked him and buried it in the time capsule. and now it's time for them to dig it up.

pairing: omar marmoush x reader!

a/n: maybe it was too long cause i was really inspired to write this lol but anywas i hope you like it

requests are open | check here my masterlist

As usual, it's raining in London. Luckily, today is a day off from work which means a perfect opportunity to eat unhealthy food and lie down to watch new movies.

Choosing the right movie is a difficult task, they are no longer made like they used to be. And you will definitely fall asleep in the middle, something that strangely has been happening quite often.

But your cell phone took you out of focus, vibrating on your belly. A notification appeared on the screen, someone added you to a group with 5 other people.

"Shit." This came out without you thinking and in a low voice.

A cursor glance at the in people present in that group made your stomach turn. The fact that someone hadn't forgotten a promise made almost 10 years ago makes your eyes roll, but your mind was promptly taken back to Germany in 2016, on your last day of high school.

You, at seventeen, had many plans and dreams, all of which were achieved with great effort. Life is exactly as you had planned and as you had described in your letter when you made a time capsule together with your group of friends.

Changing schools in your last year of high school was definitely not in the plans, but your father's company headquarters moved to another city and from Berlin you ended up in Wolfsburg, a drastic change that made you cry many times during the night.

It took you a long time to get used to the city and the new school. And Celine was the first person you met and got close to, she helped you start loving the city of Wolfsburg. Most importantly, she was responsible for not letting you be alone.

Celine had four friends and a twin brother who hung out with them. Soon you felt closer to them than you ever did to your Berlin friends. But there was someone there who caused you chest discomfort .

Back then, it was hard to be around Marmoush, everything about him was so charming. His smile, his confident, mocking expression, the way he looked at you and talked to you. Omar Marmoush touched you in a way no one else has.

But it was complicated, liking Marmoush was a very difficult task. Competing for his attention with other girls was boring and tiring, you didn't want to waste time with that.

And all Omar wanted to do was tease you. Because of training and games, Marmoush didn't go to parties or the gatherings that you and your friends organized much, but every time you and he were sharing the same space at a party or restaurant, Marmoush wanted to flirt and got uncomfortable when someone of the male gender approached.

He was the only thing on your list of plans for the future that didn't work out, writing down on a piece of paper your desire to become his girlfriend seems too embarrassing for you now. But that was written weeks before you let go of the idea and tried to put Marmoush out of your mind.

It's been a while since you spoke to the group that was once your refuge, life made you follow a different path than theirs. While everyone else - including Marmoush - kept their lives in Germany, once again you found yourself on the move. Once again your life began again, this time in London.

The idea of meeting them again sounds great, but you know that time capsule will be opened and everyone will read the letters out loud, as promised. And Marmoush will eventually find out how you felt about him.

"You were a 17 year old teenager, that's normal." You tried to calm yourself down.

The attempt was more or less successful, but it was enough to make you click on a poll sent in the group asking who would go to the meeting. All that was left was for you to answer and well, you responded and even said that you were looking forward to seeing them again. Where did this come from?

three days later

Celine still lived in Wolfsburg, you were surprised to know that she was already married and pregnant with her first child. And apparently almost all of yours friends from that time are engaged and already parents.

"Only you and Marmoush are left." You swallowed hard as you heard Celine speak.

You were the first to arrive at her parents' house, where the letter was buried years ago.

"I thought you and he had already met again." Celine was talking about Marmoush again.

"No, and I don't think it even crossed his mind." You replied as you helped her tidy up the yard. "In fact, I was surprised to learn that his football career had taken him to the Premier League, I was happy for him." I admitted it.

You Googled Marmoush's name shortly after Celine created the group. You didn't know he had been to Frankfurt and now played for Manchester City, it's good to know that just like you, he had achieved his biggest goals.

But you couldn't imagine that he was sharing the same country as you, but that's because you're a little uninformed about football.

"Is it just us here? I thought everyone would be more punctual." Marmoush's voice came from behind you.

You didn't have the courage to turn around and look at him, in fact the photos on his Instagram profile already indicated that he had managed to become even more handsome than he already was.

"Marmoush, it's so good to see you." Celine greeted him with a hug and introduced him to her husband.

You turned your head a little to see the scene. Omar was smiling and you thought he even noticed your presence. But he had already seen you, out of the corner of his eye he saw you do what you always did when you were nervous, bite your lip.

Omar missed that. Almost ten years later and he still remembered your habits and how you behaved in his presence, he liked to make you nervous. Seeing that after years you still behaved the same way made him laugh inside.

He regrets choosing to flirt playfully instead of trying to have something serious with you. Omar liked you, he liked seeing you, and he liked pretending to have difficulties in certain subjects just to get help from you. He liked to have you close by, to have you in his view.

Looking at you now, he feels even more regret for not having confessed what he felt when he had the chance.

"Omar Marmoush, look at you." You got up from your chair, hiding your nervousness and going to hug the Egyptian as he walked towards you.

"Better than ever." You smiled at each other. "So, how's life?" He leaned against the counter behind him.

"Great, I'm working at the Mercedes office in London."

Marmoush looked surprised and clapped his hands lightly.

"I'm happy for you! We're living close again, by the way. I'm playing in Manchester."

"Oh, I saw the news. Congratulations on your achievement."

"Thanks!" he said smiling. "Are you going to tell me that you're also married and already have children?"

You laughed, putting your hand over your mouth.

"I'm far from that. I haven't dated for decades, in fact if you had arrived in Manchester a year ago, I could have seen you playing live. My ex was a die-hard City fan."

Omar gave an awkward chuckle and nodded.

"I thought you were going to be the first to get married."

The expression on your face was one of confusion.

"Me? Why?"

"The boys loved you."

Omar made you laugh again.

"I've never heard anything about it." You confessed.

Marmoush was serious.

"I'm serious, you were everyone's dream there."

Omar caught you off guard. You could no longer describe what you felt, the expression on Omar's face and the way he spoke left you with a question in your head.

You were trying to work out what you were going to say when Celine appeared. "Let's dig up the capsule." She said before leading the two of you into the backyard.

Everyone was there, just like old times. This time there were wives, husbands, and children present, even though it looked like you had just gotten out of school.

"Each person will take a letter, which may or may not be theirs, and read it to themselves. Then you can choose whether or not to share it with everyone else." Celine explained the dynamic after the boys removed the capsule from under the ground. They were all sitting on the floor in a circle waiting their turn to get a letter from the capsule.

Silently, you prayed that the letter you wrote would not end up in the hands of Marmoush who was sitting next to you.

But you felt your stomach churn when he took out of the capsule a letter in a flowery envelope, your envelope. "It's yours." Marmoush said smiling looking at your name. You couldn't even pay attention to the letter in your hands.

His eyes were attentive to Omar's reaction, his eyes slowly passed over each line and he reacted with giggles. You knew he had read that particular part that mentioned his name when he looked up and looked at you with a confused look. "Why didn't you say anything?" He whispered.

"I don't know." You whispered back.

Marmoush looked at you with an unreadable expression. "I've always liked you." He confessed.

The world around you was silenced. Omar looked at you the same way he had before, he didn't seem angry - and he really wasn't - he was just surprised and upset, with himself and with you, because you both made the decision to hide what you felt.

The letter that Omar wrote arrived in his hands suddenly, he didn't even see who gave it to him. He didn't hold it for long, just handed it to you, "Read it." He asked.

Marmoush began the letter by saying that he was grateful for everything he had achieved so far, grateful for the people he had met and everything he saw. As for his football plans, he said he wanted to play in the Champions League and play in a World Cup for the Egyptian national team. But at the end of the letter he thanked everyone he had met and said that he had already met the woman of his dreams, you. He really wanted to tell you that you were his wife in the near future.

"We could be together now." He broke the silence when he saw that you had finished reading. His voice was comforting now.

"Maybe we weren't meant to be together back then." Marmoush nodded.

"And now? Would we work out?" Marmoush's eyes fixed on yours made your heart race the same way he did when you were teenagers.

"I don't know." You voice barely came out. "Maybe."

"Let's figure this out, please." He asked.

"Okay. Come see me when we get back to the UK, we'll catch up there."