You can be asexual and still want to be a parent. Your sexuality does not determine what kind of lifestyle you will enjoy. There is nothing wrong with aces who want children, just like there is nothing wrong with aces who don’t.
I’m so fucking sick of seeing posts about how powerful women are for having periods/being able to have children and how men are weak that aren’t fucking tagged as cissexism.
I see enough of that in my day to day life. I can’t buy the pads and tampons I need to not bleed everywhere without walking down the ‘feminine hygiene products’ aisle.
And I do recognise that there’s more cis women in the world bleeding out of their vaginas than there are trans men and nonbinary people.
But tumblr is a space I’ve found that despite it’s flaws is welcoming to trans people in a way the real world realistically just…isn’t. I want my dash to remain that way; a place where my period doesn’t make me a woman. Where my ability to have a baby doesn’t equal femininity.
So for the love of god, tag your cissexist posts. Empowerment of cis women shouldn’t come at the price of triggering trans people. Not everyone with periods is a woman. Not every woman has a period. Please.
(Also people need to remember not every cis woman can have children.)
The Inquisitor announces they’re pregnant. Skyhold reacts:
Krem knits baby’s first stuffed animal.
Josephine and Vivienne plan an elaborate party to garner favor among the nobles while raking in gifts for the new parents.
Varric tries his hand at writing a children’s book about a merry band of misfit farm animals.
Solas paints a mural along the nursery wall. The Inquisitor wonders if imagery of a many-eyed black wolf watching over the crib is appropriate for an infant.
Leliana and Maryden collaborate to write a couple lullabies, which Leli occasionally tests out to help soothe her friend when the baby’s kicking is keeping her up.
Blackwall builds a crib, and the Inquisitor spends an afternoon persuading him not to carve griffon imagery into the woodwork because Grey Warden imagery in nursery furniture seems a bit grim, doesn’t it?
Cole can tell what the Inquisitor (or pregnant LI) needs before they can articulate it themselves and turns out to be the best midwife they never asked for.
Cassandra wants to help, but isn’t really sure how, so mostly she just listens when her friend needs to talk and offers what reassurances she can and resists the occasional urge to tell them to “deal with it.”
Sera isn’t sure she wants any part of it at first, but one day the pregnant partner is having a particularly rough time of things and Sera plays an elaborate prank on the not-pregnant partner to cheer them up, and it soon becomes a bit of a habit.
The Iron Bull isn’t quite sure what to do with an infant, but he’s excited for them to reach rough-housing age. (Once the baby is born, it turns out he’s great with infants, and takes the baby on walks around Skyhold, explaining the world to them so the parents can get a little sleep, and often he’s the only one who can get the baby to stop crying long enough to nap.)
Dorian is also thinking ahead, setting aside books he finds in the library that he they can use in the child’s education. He already considers himself the child’s best teacher.
Cullen offers congratulations and considers the matter settled until he sees the rest of Skyhold pulling together. He writes to his sister because he’d like to give them his old wooden training sword, and he wants to know if she still has it.
Fiona is reluctant to talk about it at first, but eventually realizes she is the only one around with any experience in this, and offers tips for combating the nausea, swelling, and sleep deprivation when she can.
You don’t have to have children. You don’t have to want children. You don’t have to like the idea of having children, or be comfortable with the fact that you might be able to have children. None of these make you a bad person, or a bad asexual.
Romanced companions reacting to SS wanting a child (wether through adoption or pregnancy) Sorry if this one is tricky;-;
the usual romanced companions with bonus deacon and nick
Piper: She may have taken care of Nat a majority of her life, but having a kid? She’s worried she didn’t do enough for her little sister and is a bit worried she won’t do enough for her own child. But she loves Sole, and there isn’t anyone else she’d want to have a family with. And for that, she’s willing to try.
Hancock: The hope that he would have children and a family disappeared when he became a ghoul, so when they propose the idea, he doesn’t even know what to say. He desperately wants to tell them yes, but part of him is still terrified at the thought of being a father with the life he lives now.
Cait: She wants absolutely nothing to do with being pregnant or adopting a child. It’s not that she hates kids and never wants them, but rather she is too worried she’ll end up like her parents. She doesn’t ever even want to make a child even think they’re unwanted, so she asks them to wait until she’s ready.
Curie: She can’t stop smiling when they ask, because raising a child is something she could only previously dream off. Part of her is a little anxious because she’s never worked with children before, but she’s confident she could learn and be a good mother. Her stomach won’t stop doing back flips the rest of the day.
Danse: He had never imagined living a life outside of the Brotherhood and the idea of being a father and having a family is just so foreign and new that he isn’t sure what to think at first. He’s not even sure he’d be a good father. But he loves Sole and is ready to leave the Brotherhood behind for good, and though he’s still nervous, he agrees.
Preston: Being a dad and bringing up a child in this world was the farthest thing from his mind before he met them. And now that it’s a real possibility? He’s so overcome by the idea that he can’t stop himself from crying when he tells them yes, he’d absolutely love to.
MacCready: Since losing Lucy and nearly losing Duncan, he didn’t figure having another partner or even another child was something that would be in his future. So he’s completely thrilled at the idea, excited Duncan will get to grow up with a younger sibling, and vowing to protect his new found family with every fiber of his being.
Nick Valentine: Kids may love him, but he’s nervous as hell about being a dad. He knows what people would say. That people would talk. He’s a little self-conscious thinking about a child growing up with “an obvious synth father” with all the hatred against synths. But after the initial fretting, he decides he just doesn’t give a damn. He loves them and is going to have a family with them, and damn anyone who has anything negative to say about it.
Deacon: He avoids the question for as long as he can. The idea of being a father is a bit overwhelming to him. At one point in his life, it was everything he had wanted. But now? He’s not so sure he’s be fit to be a father, despite how much he’d like to be. It takes a lot of encouragement from Sole for him to feel comfortable and agree.
If the terms 'biologically female' & 'genetically female' are considered outdated/offensive now, what's the correct term to refer to someone born with female sex organs when explaining trans experience to an uninitiated audience? I (perhaps erroneously) assumed the term 'assigned female at birth' also encompasses intersex and people with XY chromosomes that were raised female, so I want to avoid any confusion by using too broad a term. You seem well-versed in such language. Thanks for your time!
It’s generally best to be specific and avoid euphemisms. If you’re talking about people with vaginas, say “people with vaginas.” If you’re talking about people with XY chromosomes, say “people with XY chromosomes.”
Also, “assigned male/female at birth” doesn’t mean the same thing as “has a penis/vagina.” People’s bodies can vary depending on their medical history, and you can’t predict what a person’s body will look like now based on what their assigned gender was. If you’re talking about the way a person was raised, you’ll probably want to say “assigned male/female at birth”; if you’re talking about body parts, medicine or pregnancy, it’s usually more accurate to name the body parts that are relevant. (These terms also see use in intersex discussion, as you noted, but I don’t feel qualified to say as much about that topic.)
When I see trans issues discussed seriously, it’s more common for people to talk in terms of “assigned gender” rather than the organs people are born with. This makes sense, since “transgender” is defined as a gender identity different from the gender assigned to you at birth, not a gender identity that “doesn’t match” your genitals.
Phrases like “biologically male/female,” “genetically male/female,” and “male/female-bodied,” don’t really work. That’s because physical organs and DNA don’t have an inherent gender. A penis can be a female sex organ; a vagina and uterus can be male. (If it sounds strange, try reading about how sex organs develop in the womb; egg-producing anatomy and sperm-producing anatomy have more in common than you might expect.)
I can understand why you might be uncomfortable mentioning genitals directly in conversation. Many people are, and that’s fine. But if you’re trying to educate someone, then it’s better to say something awkward than to say something that’s inaccurate and possibly misgendering.
If you’re cisgender, be cautious about trying to explain trans issues—it’s great that you want to educate people, but it’s also very easy to screw up and say something harmful. Try to amplify the voices of trans people who speak about their experiences, and listen to them instead of positioning yourself as an authority. Research as much as you can before trying to inform other people, and accept criticism gracefully if you make an error.
#8 sunbathing for fenhawke if you're still doing prompts? :)
before the storm : fenhawke
Rivain is sunnier than Kirkwall, boasting a brilliant,
almost stifling heat that is reminiscent of Minrathous. But of all his memories
of the city, the ones related to the weather are of the few not stained to
the point beyond bearing.
“Are you sunbathing? Truly?”
Cracking an eye open, it’s to find her standing over him,
long lengths of pale leg and a mound of obscenely colourful fabric. Fenris is half-tempted to say that an attempt is being made but that the sheer size of her stomach is presently blocking out
the sun, but he doesn’t. She’s been sick a lot lately, barely keeping her food down.
That she is smiling now is a welcome sight, even if her humour is at his own
expense. He won’t sully that with his own poor attempts, not when her mood is so volatile.
“You could join me,” he says instead.
Hawke considers the empty chair next to his own, draped with a
thick, maroon blanket. The white-tiled terrace is warm to the touch – a little
too warm, going by the way she keeps shifting her weight. Unused to long stretches
of time without something going horribly wrong, she’s growing increasingly restless, Fenris knows. It’s perhaps a
good thing that her stomach is such a hindrance, effectively keeping her out of trouble,
but he keeps those words to himself, too.
At last, she moves to take the seat next to his own, and a groan pulls free as she settles against the chair, an inelegance to her movements
that is almost endearing.
But he’s just closed his eyes when she exclaims with a breath, “Balls.”
A glace towards her finds her gaze turned to the
sky, as though in silent invocation (or condemnation, as is more likely). “I need to use the privy
He keeps his smile with some difficulty, but rises from his
seat to help Hawke out of hers. “No rest for the wicked,” she jokes, as she struggles to her feet. “Or the desperately
tired.” Perspiration peppers her brow, and he tastes salt in the kiss pressed
to her over-warm skin.
“You would not know rest if it announced itself by name,” Fenris points out, earning himself a snort.
“Right before it tries to shank me, I’ll bet,” she laughs, a hearty if tired sound. “Has anyone told you how insufferably glib you’re
getting? Hardly any bite left. And you used to be so snide.” But it’s fondly spoken, and when she makes to
waddle across the sunlit terrace Fenris remains standing, watching her go and pondering how much longer this peace will last, soaking up the sunlight of the seaside
residence he’s certain is not really Isabela’s, but whatever she’s done with its
original proprietors, he’s not planning on asking.
Because Hawke is smiling,
laugh-lines running deeper now than those between her brows. Peace takes time
to fully settle in restless bones that are not used to sitting still, and she still
fears knives in the dark, and demons when she closes her eyes. He’s loath to disturb the calm waters, to spur new storms on an already ravaged sea, but perhaps it is inevitable. There is a letter among his belongings with Varric’s
signature, telling of trouble brewing, of veils and wolves and the Fade, but if
the world has plans to end again it will not do so on his watch.
Oh. My. God. I absolutely adore and love your blog! It's amazing! It's fantastic! Your writing in astoundingly wonderful! I think you're definitely one of the best Solavellan writers on this site - no, actually one of the best on any site I've ever seen! Which reminds me, your 'One Upon A Dream' Solavellan fic? Actually had me in tears. I actually cried. It was so well written and touching! Never stop writing, you are brilliant! And if you're taking requests, how about worried dad-to-be Solas?
YOU’RE MAKING ME TEAR UP, but oh of course I can do some fretting dad-to-be Solas
A loud clatter from the kitchen
draws him out of his thoughts, followed by a string of soft curses, and he would
have smiled had it not been for her strict rule of ‘no cussing under this roof with impressionable ears present’, broken now by what can only be a considerable amount of pain. And so it’s with worry churning in his gut that he pushes himself to his feet,
cutting across the small garden towards the back door of the cottage with ever quickening
steps, and his earlier calm is lost to the worry that lurches in his chest when
he finds her, back bent and leaning heavily on the kitchen table.
He’s crossed the room in
three strides, arm curving around her back to support her weight, and when she draws
a sharp breath through her nose he feels her muscles constrict, a spasm that ripples through her.
“I’m fine,” Ellana hisses before he has a chance to ask, but doesn’t protest as he helps her take a
seat, and Solas watches with deepening concern as her features draw together
with pain. Then, expelling a heavy breath that makes her sag in her seat, “There we
go.” Relief washes across her face, her skin pallid and slick with perspiration, and he feels it too, like something uncoiling
in his chest, and it drags from his lungs in a ragged sigh.
He’s kneeling before her,
brow pressed to the considerable swell of her stomach. He feels her breaths, steadier now that the pain has passed, and beneath them, her racing heartbeat, drumming against his ears.
“You’re always loudest
when you’re silent, did you know that?” comes her murmured observation,
followed by the tender touch of her fingertips to the back of his neck.