SHOW @nyahalloshop SOME LOVE FOR THIS SHIT SO WE CAN GET US SOEM SHARK SUITES PLEASE OMG (sorry ik you havent posted this desighn on tumblr yet but OMG)
Listen. New or questioning trans girl. People will say that wearing a skirt and panties giving you a boner is proof that what you're doing is unnatural. This is untrue. You are experiencing the sense of liking how you look: something most cis people have. You have begun to enjoy your body, something that has been absent for years. Your first kiss ever also will feel/felt that much more powerful. It's a little lame but just enjoy it for now.
A lot of brewskis have noticed my slow down these last few months and this is the major reason for it. Yes, a person at my work has been following me at the beginnings of my shifts and has not gotten any repercussion. I don't feel safe anymore. My partner and I are moving, but even still we don't feel comfortable with me working at that place, however it's difficult as I don't have a college degree and this place pays more than most jobs around here.
We have some plans in place, but I'm financially struggling. I hate to do this, but I created a ko-fi to help with relocation and to help stifle some of the burden of quitting this job. All the money would go towards things like rent, groceries, and car payments. I do have a Patreon, but it isn't bringing in enough to help with this issue and I'm debating about deleting it due to me not being able to keep up with things over there.
Anything helps, but don't donate if you can't---reading this and sharing it will be a massive help still <3
I just saw a girl on tiktok talking about how her Palestinian grandma wonโt be able to renew her passport with her place of birth as Palestine. She will have no place of birth.
Tell me why people were trying to compare it to Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia etc.
My whole ass family was born in Czechoslovakia. Guess what. They now have a passport in Czechia/Slovakia, depending on where they lived. They have a country to call their own. They have some of the strongest passports in the world.
Palestinians are intentionally being eradicated. Their land bombed and stolen. Please educate yourselves before you say bullshit on the internet.
As a rule of thumb, don't reblog donation posts or people asking for donations unless they've been vetted and reblogged by Palestinian bloggers. We usually go to lengths to verify this shit because we know scammers have been faking to get people to send them money, using the urgency of our genocide as bait.
It's disgusting this is what we're dealing with, but people are losing money because of some truly evil people out there.
Accounts don't just randomly spring up on tumblr without gofundmes while asking for someone to help them create a campaign. Fuck out of here with that shit.
I'm also gonna stop listing the reasons why I recognize something is a scam. It's becoming more and more clear there is 1 person behind this STRING of scams and they're leaving less trails behind but it still reeks of them and their MO.
DO NOT TRUST ANY GOFUNDME OR REQUEST FOR CROWDFUNDING THAT PALESTINIAN BLOGGERS HAVEN'T VERIFIED.
At this point I'm fine receiving a bunch of inbox messages asking me to vet x y z so y'all can avoid this shit. But please have some critical thinking!
Whether you wanna read the whole thing or not idc.
REBLOG IT.
The person this was about deleted the 4th or 5th scam account they made and are definitely gonna make a new one soon. I don't want anybody falling for this anymore.
tags: medieval!au, light angst, anxiety, arranged marriage, soulmate au, reader has a mother & father
prompt: "I wanted it to be you, I wanted it to be you so badlyโ from the writing challenge hosted by the amazing and lovely @moonlight-prose ๐
when a mysterious stranger wins your hand at the tournament, you can't help but wonder of his intentions
With each step down the aisle, your legs threaten to give out.
A clicking of your teeth as you tremble, before you're gritting your jaw, biting your anxiety back. You have a reputation to uphold, even if you're only the daughter of a lord from a lesser house.
You're still a lady.
And this marriage would ensure a home for you. Protection. More than, if this man is what he says he is.
But a part of you desperately wishes that it was someone else at the end of the aisle.
You'd searched for a long time. For the glimpses that flash in your dreams at night. Knowing that he was out there - the one you had begun to think of as yours.
Your soulmate.
Never managing to meet the same eyes that reflect back at you in the darkness, just before you wake. Not once in the hundreds, thousands of people youโve looked at, throughout your years.
And when none were found, you slowly gave up. Knowing the world was too large and you were too small, too poor, to seek them out.
Eventually agreeing to the match that your mother and father arranged.
If you could not have him, then you did not want anyone.
And now - the figure that waits for you stands tall.
Encased in gleaming armor, showing none of the nerves that wrack you. Making you wonder if you should have protested. Taken the path of the unwed, even if there was hardship in your future.
The stranger had won your favor, in the tournament. That is how the story will be told, passed on by your father.
Looking back, you remember very little from it. Knowing deep down that the winner would be the one to have your hand, whether you liked it or not. So much of it had turned to haze, as you had sat frozen there.
All but too nervous to watch, as weapons clashed, shields splintering.
Men you had known and grown up with falling beneath the sword of the mysterious man, clad in silver armor.
A Mandalorian, it was rumored.
Something from stories, you didn't know they still existed. An ancient clan of knights and warriors, honoring weapons and myths over sworn deities. Never revealing their faces to outsiders, and sometimes even to their own.
He had never killed any of them, and there was some comfort in that.
But that didn't mean he did not wound.
That he wasn't vicious, ferocious on the battlefield. Driven by an unseen force. Unrelenting, even when blood was drawn - splattering a bright crimson against his armor.
Showing just how he came to earn his station. The leader of his tribe, from the whispers you heard. Traveling far - slipping into the last few open brackets in the tournament, just as the first morning was starting.
Ripping through them all, in the days that followed.
You were given as the prize, in the end.
Even before the day ends, you would belong to him - ferried off to a new life tomorrow.
And this is what also slows your feet.
Wondering why such a man would come for you.
At the end of the aisle, you halt. The clergymany is speaking, but it's all white noise. Your own eyes wide and face solemn as you stare at your betrothed - your features reflected back at you in the tinted glass of his visor.
Acutely aware that you haven't seen his face. Not knowing what your husband was to look like.
Was he younger than you? Or older... older than your father?
Was his face kind, or was it as sharp as his movements? Was it all snarling teeth, beneath?
Were his eyes blue, or green, or just maybe... brown? Like his?
You don't know. You think not. Leaving you to wonder how you will bear it - to spend each day staring into their eyes while dreaming of anothers.
It's only when a voice raises that you're snapped from your thoughts. Realizing that the ceremony is waiting for you.
Managing, with a stammer, to repeat the words. To pledge yourself - your life and love - to this stranger.
The words repeated after, a low voice layering with metal. The shaking of your hands is still visible when they reach out to meet his, the tips of yours resting against wide, steady palms.
Covered in gloves but solid, like the rest of him.
Only the peek of tanned skin visible when he peels the glove from his hand. A small comfort coming in the warmth of his hand, as you slip the ring on his finger, settling it just above a scarred knuckle.
The careful brush of his fingers - a calming stroke against your skin, when he slips a matching one on yours.
Gentle, after everything.
Not him.
But perhaps, not a monster.
The celebrations swirl past you. There's music you don't remember. A meal that sits heavy in your stomach, from the meager amounts you managed to swallow.
A smile plastered on - assuring your excitement to family and friends - all while you worry about the hours to come.
Will he be as gentle as he was during the ceremony?
Or will it be more like the battlefield?
These thoughts linger, as the hours pass. Until the sun dips below the horizon, until the stars blanket the sky.
And then, you're alone.
Waiting in the finest room prepared for him in the guest wing. The pretty, ivory gown stripped from you, replaced with something thin and fine and silver - hand-sewn and intended to please him.
Pacing, until you hear the heavy steps approaching - as he returns from a meeting with your father, your dowry and your life handed over.
Leaving you frozen in place, as the door opens. Where he lingers, filling the space.
A different man than before, you think.
There had not been a slope to his shoulders, the way he moves as if afraid to frighten you.
His voice is different too - soft now, coaxing.
"I wish our meeting had been under more pleasant circumstances." Your husband tells you, as the door slowly shuts behind him.
Trapping you, now. The iron latch heavy, as it locks into place.
"But I could not bear to stand by." He continues, that hard edge creeping into his voice again, "You must understand."
"I don't." You manage - your brow pinched, shifting the smallest step backwards as he moves forward.
He goes still, at your retreat.
"Do you not, ner karโta?" His head tilts, "Do you not know why I have come?"
The shake of your head is small. Not understanding the name he calls you, his intentions.
He hesitates then, for a second. Before his hands are reaching - grasping the edge of his helmet. Slipping it from his head, as his head dips.
His hair is dark, beneath. Messy and curling, greying at the temples, down to the scruff that lines his jaw beneath plush lips and the curve of his nose.
And his eyes. That pretty shade of brown, the dark fan of his eyelashes.
You know them. Though you've never seen them, yourself.
For a moment, you can't breathe. Frozen for an entirely new reason - starting back at the eyes that you've seen so often.
"It's you," You manage. The words are no more than a soft gasp.
He lets you touch him, then. Fingertips tracing his jaw, those eyes slipping shut when your fingers brush the nape of his neck. Somehow knowing how the curls would feel against your fingers, already knowing each detail of his face.
Hidden deep down, revealed bit by bit in your sleep.
Only now, do you see all of him.
And only now, do you lean in. Your head tipping towards him, just as his forehead presses against yours. And it's now that you understand the warmth of his touch - the way it seems to soak into your skin. A lost piece of you, now becoming complete.
You hadnโt been able to find him - so he had found you, instead.
Unable to help the smile, as the dark pit in your stomach blooms into spring.
I wanted it to be you, you think - as your heart finally starts to beat again. I wanted it to be you so badly.
There's a hitch in his breath, with your touch. Fingers that stretch out and then curl, until you're taking them yourself, slipping yours between them.
"Now do you know?" Your husband murmurs, in the voice that you know as well as his eyes.
And you do - the answer coming easily, as you nod, "Because you're mine."
"Yes," He smiles.
"Yours."
i cant stop writing soft!soulmate din ๐ thank you for reading!!
ner karโta - my heart
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