Yo, Peeps! Do You Even Notice Anything In The Lecture Hall? Like, Nah? Well, Like, Duh, That Just Totally

Yo, peeps! Do you even notice anything in the lecture hall? Like, nah? Well, like, duh, that just totally proves that having chicks at the university would just be, like, such a major distraction, innit?

A New Perspective

August 15th

So today was the first day of the semester, and I somehow ended up in “Introduction to Islam”—a class I didn’t want to take at all, but it was the only elective that fit my schedule. I’m a pretty committed atheist, so the idea of spending months learning about a religion I don’t give a crap about is a bit of a drag. I’d much rather be diving into science classes like my physics major, where I can actually debate ideas and we focus on facts.

The professor, Dr. Ibrahim Hasan, walked in looking like he was ready for a board meeting rather than a lecture. He’s a tall, middle-aged guy in a suit and tie, and his voice has this smooth, compelling quality that makes it hard to ignore him. I guess I’m already a bit intrigued, even if I’m not thrilled about the class. If anything I might get to see how others perceive the world.

August 29th

A few weeks in, and something strange is happening. The class is surprisingly engaging. Dr. Hasan’s lectures are filled with a passion that’s starting to get to me. The other guys seem more invested too. We’ve even started talking about the material outside of class for some reason. Dr. Hasan has this way of pausing during lectures, scanning the room with his gaze. During those moments, the room goes silent, like we’re all waiting for something, though I can’t say what. It’s kinda creepy, but I find I can’t look away during these times.

September 12th

I’m starting to notice changes in the other students. Their appearances are subtly shifting—darker skin, sharper features. I’ve seen the same thing in the mirror. It sounds crazy, I know, but it’s happening. Dr. Hasan’s lectures are getting more intense, and I’ve started reading the Quran in my free time. There’s something there I can’t ignore, even though I still consider myself an atheist.

October 3rd

Everything’s changing—the class, the guys, me. We’re all starting to look alike, not just in appearance but in spirit. We speak Arabic now, fluently, even though none of us knew it before. Dr. Hasan also told us to start wearing these white jerseys everywhere. They feel more comfortable than I thought. I feel connected to the others too, like we’re all on the same journey. I’ve started praying with them, studying the Quran like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I don’t know who I am anymore, but I feel like I’m finally becoming who I’m meant to be. I don’t know if that scares or excites me.

November 21st

The semester’s almost over, and I’m a completely different person. My old identity doesn’t exist anymore—now I’m Dawud. The doubts and anger I came in with are just...gone. I’ve found my place, my purpose, and I can’t even explain how it happened. Dr. Hasan’s class changed me, and there’s no going back. I’ve decided to switch my major to Islamic Studies. Dr. Hasan seemed almost proud when I told him, saying my journey is just beginning. I don’t know where it’s taking me, but I’ve never felt more certain about anything.

December 12th

The semester’s over, but the journey is just beginning. Dr. Hasan is now officially my advisor and mentor. I’m going to recommend this course to everyone I know. They need to experience what I’ve experienced. If they’re lucky, they’ll find the same peace and new perspective that I’ve found. Knowing Dr. Hasan, I’m sure they will.

My fellow Brothers. Accept the jersey and join me on my Journey. Give in to our leader, send me and other Brothers messages. We need to stay in touch and guide each other every day.

Try to make story ideas and send them to me. Together we can convince others 💚

The Campus Conversion

The new semester had just begun at Westbridge University. Among the many groups on campus, the Arab Cultural Society, composed entirely of male students, had recently gained attention. Initially, it was a small group promoting Arabic language and culture, but their presence began to grow noticeably.

These male students could often be seen in the quad, wearing white Nike jerseys with green details and black fanny packs. They looked confident, unified, and their numbers seemed to expand each day.

Sophomore Chris, an engineering major, noticed them during a campus fair. They were friendly, inviting male students to learn about Arabic culture and join their society. Chris grabbed a flyer and moved on, but the image of the group lingered in his mind.

A few weeks into the semester, Chris was approached by Tariq, a charismatic member of the Arab Cultural Society. He was friendly and asked if Chris had considered attending their upcoming event.

“It’s going to be great,” Tariq said with a smile. “We’re having a cultural night with food, music, and a lot of fun. You should come.”

Chris hesitated but eventually agreed. “Sure, why not? I’ve never been to one of these events before.”

The event was lively, with traditional Arabic music, delicious food, and a welcoming atmosphere. Tariq introduced Chris to several members, all dressed in their signature Nike jerseys and fanny packs. By the end of the night, they handed Chris a fanny pack, encouraging him to wear it as a sign of solidarity.

“Just try it on,” Tariq suggested. “It’s comfortable and shows that you’re part of something bigger.”

Over the next few weeks, Chris noticed more and more male students wearing the Nike jerseys and fanny packs. They seemed to be everywhere—at the library, in the cafeteria, even in his classes. The Arab Cultural Society was no longer just a small group; it had become a dominant presence on campus.

The male students who wore the jerseys began to change in subtle ways. Their appearances grew more uniform—darker hair, more intense expressions, and they started using Arabic names. Chris, now wearing his own fanny pack, began to feel the pressure to fully embrace the transformation.

One afternoon, as Chris walked across campus, he bumped into his friend Jake, who had also started wearing the jersey. But something was different about him—he looked more serious, more confident, and his name tag now read “Khalid.”

“Jake, what’s going on?” Chris asked, confused.

“Call me Khalid now,” he replied with a calm smile. “I’ve embraced the new identity. You should too.”

Chris felt a wave of unease. The people he had known for years were changing, and it was all happening so quickly.

The pressure to conform grew stronger with each passing day. The Arab Cultural Society began holding more events, encouraging male students to join and wear the jerseys and fanny packs. Those who resisted found themselves increasingly isolated, while those who embraced the change were welcomed with open arms.

Chris found himself at a crossroads. He liked the sense of community the group offered, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to fully commit to the transformation. One evening, Tariq invited him to a special meeting, where they would officially welcome new members.

As Chris entered the room, he saw dozens of male students, all wearing the jerseys and fanny packs, their features now distinctly Arabic. They greeted him warmly, but there was an underlying expectation—an unspoken pressure to join them fully.

“Tonight, we embrace who we truly are,” Tariq announced. “We shed our old identities and become part of something greater.”

Chris felt the weight of their gaze on him as they handed him a new Nike jersey and fanny pack, this time with his new name, “Ahmed,” stitched on it. The room was silent as he held it in his hands, knowing that once he put it on, there would be no going back.

By the end of the semester, the transformation was complete. The campus was filled with male students wearing the white Nike jerseys with green details and black fanny packs. Their features were now distinctly Arabic, and they moved with a sense of unity and purpose.

Chris, now Ahmed, walked through the quad, no longer feeling like an outsider. He was part of the new order, part of a movement that had changed the face of the university. As he looked around at his fellow students, he realized that the transformation was not just physical—it was a complete change of identity, one that he had fully embraced.

And as the new semester began, it was clear that Westbridge University would never be the same again.

At last even the teachers knew that it was better to join willingly.

New clothes

This guy's clothes were all torn. And he didn’t have enough money for a new one

Many passers-by laughed at him. But the Arab man understood his problem and decided to help

He handed him Arabic national clothes

The guy, without thinking twice, accepted the Arab man’s gift and changed clothes.

New clothes brought new thoughts into his head. He started a new life. And joined the brotherhood💚

The Awakening of Destiny - Chapter I : The Awakening of Omar

Chapter: The Awakening of Omar

I watched as the young Chinese boy stood before me, uncertainty etched into every line of his face. His life, once marked by the mundane and the unremarkable, was about to undergo a transformation beyond anything he could have imagined. The name he once bore, a relic of his past, had been shed. Now, he was reborn. Now, you are Omar.

The power of a name is more profound than most can comprehend. It shapes identities, alters destinies, and forges new paths where none existed before. When I called you by your new name, Omar, I saw the confusion in your eyes, but I also saw something else—an awakening. The name is not just a label; it is a key, unlocking the potential within you, aligning you with a movement that has silently expanded its influence across centuries.

As I stood before you, Omar, I felt the weight of generations resting on my shoulders. The movement I represent thrives on the cultivation of strength—strength of mind, body, and spirit. These are the masculine ideals deeply embedded in our Arab-Islamic culture. The harsh environments of the desert, coupled with unwavering religious convictions, have forged men of unmatched resilience and confidence. You are now part of this lineage, Omar. You are the embodiment of this strength.

With each repetition of your name, Omar, I watched as the transformation began to take hold. At first, it was subtle—your tastes, your preferences, your surroundings all began to shift. But as you immersed yourself in the culture that I represent, the changes became more pronounced. You grew taller, stronger. Your skin darkened to a rich, commanding hue, and your features became more assertive. The name Omar had done its work, transforming you into a symbol of Arab strength and dominance.

Now, as I stand before you, I see not just a boy, but a man—a man ready to carry forward the ideals of our movement. You are more than just a name, Omar. You are a force, a weapon of cultural conquest. The silent power of Arabization flows through you, reshaping the world into a reflection of our ideals.

The time has come, Omar. You will continue the cycle, reaching out to others, planting the seeds of transformation just as I did with you. The name Ahmed will be next, and the cycle will begin again. This is our destiny, and you are now its vessel.

In this moment, I see the fire in your eyes, the purpose that now burns within you. The transformation is complete. You are ready to lead, ready to dominate, ready to reshape the world in our image. The path ahead is clear, and you will walk it with the strength and confidence that only those like us possess.

You are Omar, and the world will know your name.