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a-shade-of-blue · 8 months ago

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While children are getting free candy from strangers during Halloween, the 10 children in Mahmoud's family (@mahmoudfamily1) barely have enough money to buy food. Can you donate the price of a bar of chocolate or a pack of money so that they may get food and other basic necessities?

There is no vegetables or fruits in Gaza; there is barely any food available, let alone sweets for the children. These 10 children suffer from constant stomachaches and diarrhea due to eating the little contaminated food they can find!

There are 3 babies among Mahmoud's 17 family members. The youngest of them, baby Meryem, was only born a few months ago during this genocidal war. Mahmoud's sister gave birth to the baby under a shower of bullets, with no medical personnel or medical resources available. Mahmoud's sister almost lost her life giving birth to the baby! While she luckily survived, she is still suffering from many infections due to the difficult birth.

Not only is there no food, but there are also no diapers for the little babies. Even if they are available (though often they are not), one pack of diapers cost $150! And there are 3 babies in need of them! Please, Mahmoud's gofundme barely has any donations, and they need all the help they can get!

This campaign is #117 on @/gazavetters vetted list. Also vetted by association!

Only $3,720 CAD raised of $80,000 goal!

This Halloween, when you give sweets to children, buy sweets for yourself, or even when you are just watching the neighbourhood kids go trick or treating, please remember these 10 children in Gaza who can barely find food to eat. They are just children. They should be having fun like all other children around the world, not worrying if they will get to eat tonight! Please donate if you can. Every little bit helps!

As an incentive to donate, I'm also hosting a freshwater pearl phone strap raffle to raise funds for this campaign (UK only)! Click here to enter after you donated!

Tagging for reach. Please message me if you want off the mailing list. we thank you in advance.

@dlxxv-vetted-donations @ana-bananya@northgazaupdates@c-u-c-koo-4-40k@riding-with-the-wild-hunt @roadimusprime@aces-and-angels@just-browsing1222@neptunerings@mushroomjar@northgazaupdates2@kyra45-helping-others@decolonize-solidarity @heritageposts@timetravellingkitty @briarhips @ankle-beez @akajustmerry @wellwaterhysteria @rhubarbspring @brutaliakhoa @decolonize-the-everything @postanagramgenerator@heydreamchild @watermotif @appsa @stuckinapril @malcriada @appsa @buttercuparry@bixels @afro-elf @headspace-hotel @dailyquests @charlott2n @bruciemilf @pcktknife @officialspec @valtsv

@odinsblog @chainmail-butch @versescaaa @stalinistqueens @autistic-spirk @bestlesbiancave @t4tails @mordhiobhail @b0nkcreat @lemon-wedges @holedyke @pinayelf @dogesterone @professorllayton @video-game-kids-tournament @megamindsfreshmintycum @thepixelelf @zarigueya666 @philcollinsenjoyer @redbuddi @bakwaas @eastgaysian @tf2yuri @bongjoonheaux @coughloop @neechees @jame7t @amygdalae @pointnclick @psygull @wolvierinez @jewishvitya @sandeewithtwoe @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @nieyao @yuri-alexseygaybitch @oursapphirestars @kingmeatyprince @beserkerjewel @lesbiandardevil @neechees @officialspec @certifiedsexed @bruciemilf @cutecipher @nerves-nebula @augustheart @ihavegaysex42069 @dailyquests @rennybu @chappellrroan @mesetacadre @ballwizard @mxwhore @sealbf @moveslikekeithrichards @andva-ri @crispy6usiness @peskypawz @v4mpgrrl @hazem-khalil

#mahmoudfamily1

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witchshut · 12 days ago

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[Image ID: A digital illustration of Kris from Deltarune wearing a bold, multi-patterned garment made from various vibrant African wax print fabrics. Kris’ hand is hovering over the player’s SOUL. Kris has dark brown skin and an afro hairstyle, with a matching headwrap that coordinates with the patterns on the dress. The dress is loose-fitting and flows outward, combining a patchwork of different geometric and organic designs in a vivid palette including purples, yellows, greens, reds, blues, and blacks. End ID.]

[Image ID: A digital illustration of Noelle Holiday from Deltarune with golden curly hair, light brown skin, freckles, and deer-like ears sitting in a festive green and red wheelchair with ornaments attached to the wheels. She wears a long-sleeved dark gray outfit with a green and red vest, red bow, and a hearing aid attached to her right ear. Flanking her are two more sketches of Noelle—one holding a candy cane themed cane and the other being a side profile. The artwork is selectively colored. End ID.]

[Image ID: A digital illustration of Susie from Deltarune with freckles, tousled dark hair, short arms, and sharp yellow teeth, depicted in three drawings—cackling with closed fists, smirking while picking her nose, and staring pensively to the side with wide, uncertain eyes. She is fat and dressed in a deep purple jacket, white shirt, and blue jeans. End ID.]

[Image ID: A digital line-art sketch features Deltarune characters standing side by side: Kris is on the left, pimple-faced, with a cleft lip and coily hair adorned by a bow, and Susie is on the right with freckles and curly hair. A caption above them reads, "We're not in Kansas anymore, Kris.” They both look apprehensive, with Susie looking at Kris and Kris looking forward. End ID.]

Here are my headcanons of Susie, Kris, and Noelle. :) Noelle has CRPS which has her in an active wheelchair, but on good days she can walk around with a cane. She also as strabismus! I think Noelle has heart problems and chronic TTH. She loves scary things despite them causing her heart rate to go up and sometimes triggering headaches. This is another reason why she has to turn them off sometimes halfway through, but she monitors her heart rate closely when watching them.

I also intended for Susie to have down syndrome but I’m not sure how well that came across. I feel like a lot of artists unintentionally draw her with a lot of traits common with down syndrome anyway.

And of course. Kris in a dress. Because they deserve it.

#deltarune #noelle holiday #kris dreemurr #susie deltarune #krusie #image description #alt text #disability #wheelchair user #down syndrome #physical disability #🦨my art

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gweelczz · 2 months ago

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“Til Death”

Bo Chow x OC (Rosetta)

Genre: tooth rotting fluff

Warnings: None

Summary: Bo reminisces about his wedding with Rosetta

Bo Chow stood in the stillness of the early evening, leanin’ against the back door of the Smokestack, a half-finished cigarette burnin’ slow between his fingers. He wasn’t smokin’ it—just lettin’ it burn while the sky above Clarksdale turned the color of old brass and cotton candy.

The wind carried faint music from inside, folks laughin’, glasses clinkin’. But Bo wasn’t really hearin’ it.

His mind was somewhere else.

Somewhere soft.

Somewhere golden.

Their wedding.

The memory came like a warm front after a cold rain—slow and full, fillin’ every corner of his chest.

It had been right here. The back of the juke joint. They cleared out the tables and swept the floors till they shined like molasses. Hung wildflowers from the rafters, twisted ribbons of yellow and green ’round the banisters, let the honeysuckle and magnolia do the rest.

Preacher Boy had stood near the back door, leanin’ against the wall with that beat-up guitar strapped across his chest, hummin’ a love song before his fingers ever touched the strings. The guests sat on mismatched chairs brought in from the neighborhood—folks wearin’ their Sunday best, sweatin’ through silk and linen just to see the moment happen.

And then the music started.

And everything else stopped.

Bo remembered the way the door opened—how Stack stepped out first, his big arm linked gently with Rosetta’s.

And Lord, Lord, when Bo saw her…

That woman stepped out wearin’ gold light and God’s own glory.

A silk yellow qipao hugged her curves like it’d been sewn by the ancestors themselves. The mandarin collar high and proud, the jade buttons glintin’ in the sunlight. Green and yellow flowers weaved through the bouquet she held tight to her chest, but it was her hair that near brought Bo to his knees—her afro piled high, full and soft, golden hair jewelry catchin’ the light like little halos.

And her eyes.

Those gold eyes.

He’d seen ‘em angry, sleepy, laughin’, cryin’, dancin’ in candlelight and dimmed in grief—but never like that.

Never filled with that kind of still, strong love.

Bo remembered how his breath caught. How Smoke gave him a little nudge from behind like, “Stand tall, brother.” But he couldn’t.

Tears rushed his eyes before he could stop them. He was cryin’ and smilin’, heart thunderin’ so loud he didn’t even hear the rest of the music. All he could see was her.

Annie had stood behind Rosetta, fussin’ over her train and beammin’ like a proud sister. Smoke was beside Bo, hands folded, grinnin’ with that crooked smile of his, like he’d known all along Bo didn’t stand a chance once Rosetta came into his life.

Rosetta reached the altar—if you could call the patch of sunlit wood between two flower barrels an altar—and looked up at him.

“Why you cryin’, Bo?” she’d whispered, soft enough that only he could hear.

He chuckled through tears, eyes locked on hers. “’Cause I just fell in love with you all over again.”

She bit her lip, tryin’ not to cry too. Stack kissed her cheek before steppin’ back, and Preacher Boy’s guitar rose up behind them, blessin’ them with melody.

They hadn’t needed a preacher. Rosetta had said the earth and the air and the ancestors would hear their vows just fine.

Bo took her hands and told her what he meant. That he was hers now, in this life and the next. That he’d protect her, honor her, carry her burdens when they got too heavy. That her love made him whole.

And she told him she chose him. That his heart was a safe place she never thought she’d find. That he was hers, too—no matter the storms.

When they kissed, the whole juke joint erupted. Whistles, applause, somebody shouted “Glory!” like it was church. And it was, in a way.

They danced ’til the moon rose. Ate catfish and sweet bread and drank muscadine wine ’til their cheeks hurt from smilin’. Folks were sayin’ it was the finest weddin’ they ever saw.

But Bo didn’t remember all that.

He just remembered her fingers laced with his.

The weight of her ring on his hand.

The scent of her skin—lavender, gold oil, and somethin’ only she carried.

And her voice when she pulled him close that night, pressin’ her forehead to his.

“I’m gon’ be your wife for real now.”

“You been my wife since the first time I looked at you,” he’d told her.

He remembered them heading out back holding each other underneath that old oak tree as they said their vows to each other in private

The sun had dropped low behind the cypress trees, turnin’ the Delta sky a warm honey gold. The wedding was over—folks were inside celebratin’, drinkin’, dancin’ to Preacher Boy’s guitar. But out back, behind the Smokestack, it was quiet.

Just the cicadas. Just the trees swayin’. Just Bo and Rosetta.

He took her by the hand, still wearin’ her yellow qipao that shimmered like a second sun. Her gold eyes were soft and wet, cheeks warm with love and somethin’ older than time. Her bouquet lay forgotten on the step behind her. The flowers didn’t matter now.

This did.

“You sure you wanna do this part out here, Rose?” Bo asked, his voice low, Southern drawl catchin’ on every word like a slow blues song.

Rosetta nodded once, her hands never leavin’ his. “The folks got to hear us promise. But now I want the earth to hear. The sky. Our people.”

Bo smiled. “Alright then.”

He stepped in close. “I ain’t never had nothin’ in my life feel like peace till you came into it. You hear me? Nothin’. Just noise and anger and heat. But you—you like cool water on the worst day. You see me when I don’t even wanna be seen, and you love me even when I ain’t sure I deserve it. I promise to protect you, with every breath I got. I promise to never speak over your spirit, to never let this world make you feel small. I’ll carry what you can’t. I’ll build you a home wherever we stand.”

She let out a small breath, like she’d been holdin’ it in.

“I love you,” he said, voice breakin’ just a little. “You’re the truth I been searchin’ for. And I’m yours, now and always.”

Rosetta squeezed his hands, then placed them over her heart.

“My Bo…” she began, voice thick with emotion. “I used to pray every night for a love that wouldn’t disappear in the light. I used to ask the ancestors to send me a man who’d see my spirit before he saw my skin. Who’d hold me without breakin’ me. And then you came.” Her breath trembled. “You honor me. You let me love you with no shame. You let me protect you without question. And I promise, before the stars and the dust, before our people and the soil, that I will never stop. I’ll pray over you even when you ain’t near. I’ll love you even when you’re silent. I’ll keep our names safe. I’ll walk beside you, not behind.”

Bo’s eyes shimmered with tears.

“I give you everything I am. My hands, my voice, my body, my soul. You’re my husband now,” she whispered, smile tremblin’ but bright. “And I’ll never let this world take you from me.”

They stood there a moment, just lookin’ at one another—like they were seein’ the whole future in the other’s face.

Bo leaned forward, pressin’ his forehead to hers. “You mine, Rose.”

“And you mine, Bo.”

No crowd. No music. No preacher.

Just vows tied up in stardust and soil.

And that was holy enough.

———

The warm hum of laughter and music met Bo and Rosetta as they stepped back into the Smokestack, their hands still loosely laced together like they hadn’t quite come back down from their own little heaven.

Bo leaned over, pressed a kiss to Rosetta’s temple, and whispered, “Gon’ sit with the fellas for a bit. That alright, Mrs. Chow?”

Rosetta smiled, golden eyes shining in the lamplight. “That’s alright, Mr. Chow. I’ll be watchin’ you.”

Bo sauntered through the crowd with that easy, smooth gait of his, cigarette hangin’ lazy from the corner of his mouth, green silk zhongshan suit still sharp as a blade. He pulled up a chair at the poker table in the back corner, where Stack, Sammie, and Delta Slim were already dealin’ out cards and talkin’ trash.

(Act like it’s green y’all)

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Stack grinned, shufflin’ the deck slow. “Mr. Married Man himself.”

Bo just smirked, slidin’ into the seat. “Y’all better hope I’m too love-drunk to clean this table.”

“Too late for that,” said Slim, puffin’ on his cigar. “We all seen you cry when she came down that aisle. Ain’t no way you got focus left after that.”

“Shut up,” Bo muttered with a grin, leanin’ back, one arm slung over the chair like he owned the place.

Cards slapped against wood, laughter rumbled low and steady, the juke joint buzzin’ with life.

Rosetta watched him from across the room, tucked in her chair near Annie and Pearline, her fingers absently twistin’ one of her earrings. Something in her chest stirred—soft, electric, undeniable. A tug.

She rose without a word.

Crossed the floor slow and sure, hips swayin’ like she was walkin’ to a song only she could hear.

Bo clocked her out the corner of his eye, that smile tugging at the corner of his lips just before she reached him. Without askin’, Rosetta slipped down into his lap, slidin’ one arm around his shoulders like it was made for restin’ there. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t miss a beat.

His hand came up to settle on her waist, thumb drawin’ slow, lazy circles on the silk of her dress. His head dipped, and he kissed the curve of her neck, warm and slow, lips lingerin’ like he was still vowin’ somethin’ sacred.

Then he turned back to the game like nothin’ was unusual.

“Your woman got you real comfortable, huh?” Sammie chuckled, slappin’ his cards down.

Stack raised his brows. “Ain’t never seen a man go from altar to poker table with his wife in his lap like it’s Sunday supper.”

Bo shrugged, flickin’ ash from his cigarette. “Ain’t no rule say I can’t love my woman and take y’all’s money at the same time.”

Delta Slim hooted. “That’s a married man right there!”

Rosetta just smiled and leaned into his chest, eyes low, lips curved with the satisfaction of bein’ close.

And Bo? He kept one arm wrapped firm around her waist, cards in the other hand, cigarette burnin’ slow, every bit the man who had everything he ever wanted—right there in his lap.

———

Bo blinked back to the present, the cigarette now just ash between his fingers. He dropped it, crushed it under his boot.

Inside, laughter rose up again—Smoke yellin’ about somethin’, Preacher Boy tunin’ up his guitar.

Bo stepped back through the door, his chest a little fuller.

His wife was somewhere in there.

And just the thought of her still made his knees weak.

———

This Bo and Rosetta LMAO

Tags: @pinkpantheris @fresalana @ironsaladwitch

#sinners movie #sinners 2025 #sinners x reader #sinners film #sinners fanfiction #sinners imagine #sinners #bo chow sinners #bo chow x black fem oc #bo chow oneshot #bo chow imagine #bo chow

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