Bedroom; Heartroom

bedroom; heartroom

I really love the whole ‘person A brings up wanting to have kids and person B had never really considered it but now can’t stop thinking about it’ trope

***

He wakes to the feel of her weight moving against him, to the warmth tucked under the curve of his arm pressing back with surprising insistence, and with his initial disorientation it takes him a moment to realise that he’s being skilfully, if a bit forcefully, nudged off the side of the bed.

Blinking away sleep, Solas takes stock of the situation – the whole, honest size of her stretched out across the bed. She tends to move around in her sleep, he’s learned; she’ll curl in on herself, a cat’s contentment in languid, too-large movements, and wiggle until she’s comfortable. Meaning, when she’s all but pushed him off the mattress.

“Ellana.”

“Mm?”

Her shirt has climbed halfway up her chest, and she’s tangled her bare feet in the wool blankets, an endearing chaos in her heavy slumber that it takes him a moment to tear his eyes away from. But, “I conceded the blanket,” Solas tells her, kissing the words into the dip of her throat. “That you yield enough space for me to sleep is not much to ask in return.”

Ellana grunts – there’s really no kinder way of describing the guttural noise that pulls from deep in her chest. “…could get your own blanket.”

“I did. You have commandeered both.”

She’s quiet at that, and for a moment he wonders if she’s fallen back asleep – if she’d awoken at all – when she suddenly sighs and, rolling over towards him, it’s to bury her face in the crook of his neck. “One day, we’re getting a bigger bed,” she murmurs, and whatever thought had been at the forefront of his mind flees on swift feet.

“A cottage somewhere,” she continues, when he’s failed to provide a response. “When this is all over. Small cottage. Big bed.” She giggles. “Lots of room for…activities.”

She’s not usually subtle – it’s one of her more charming qualities, but at least awake her propositions are shy and fumbling things, blurted rather than offered coyly, and with none of the suggestiveness he finds in her tone now. But when he thinks she’s about to continue down the path she’s started on–

“Hmm. Cottage’s got to be big enough for kids, though,” Ellana declares, and Solas’ heart goes still in his chest.

It’s not a good idea to pursue that comment – for his own sake more than anyone else’s, but, “I did not know you’d thought of children,” he says quietly, before he can stop himself. His hand hesitates by her ear, fingers shaking slightly, but when she hums in affirmation he buries them in her hair.

“Two,” she says, the word little more than a breath, but it’s loud in the quiet of her chambers – loud in his ears, filling his entire head, until it’s all he can think about, two sets of small hands and delicate, pointed ears; the first large and curved like hers, and the second–

“Mmmaybe three,” Ellana continues, and he knows she’s asleep – is certain she wouldn’t divulge this information so casually if she weren’t, and he should rouse her, Solas knows, but – “I’d like at least one of each,” she adds, as though to herself. “Hmm, a girl would be nice. You’d be so good with a girl.”

It’s suddenly hard to breathe, and he really shouldn’t think about it, but the wistful joy in her sleep-roughed voice drives every shred of common sense from his mind, and what’s left is a fledgling image taking shape too fast for him to banish it. And it’s impossible not to wonder – to imagine the fall of her hair, sleek and brown or a mop of wild, russet curls; a full lip tucked between uneven teeth, and a pale brow furrowed in fierce concentration. A dimple, perfectly placed at the centre of her chin, or one in each cheek–

“What about you?” Ellana asks then, the question half-mumbled, the syllables thick with sleep, and curled around a yawn.

It’s a challenge just finding his voice, and he knows that if he were to remain silent, it’s likely she wouldn’t even notice – like she probably won’t remember speaking of this come morning, even as Solas knows that every word is etched into his own memory to stay. But he could say nothing – should say nothing, and pretend she never asked.

“I should like a girl,” he tells her instead, with an honesty that burns on his tongue, his voice little more than a murmur, and the pang of regret that follows is so fierce it’s hard to swallow past it.

Ellana sighs, seemingly content with the answer, and oblivious to the shaking fingers curled to a fist against her back, pressed between her shoulder blades, and he feels the beat of her heart – feels her easy contentment in the sprawl of her against him; the sleepy smile tucked against his throat, and each and every one of her heavy, even breaths.

“Shouldn’t make the bear juggle,” she mumbles then, brow furrowing with the words. “Solas – Solas, you need to tell Varric it’s a bad idea.”

He smiles quite despite himself, some of the tension bleeding out of his muscles until his palm lies flat against her back, but it doesn’t shake the tremble from his fingers, brushing against the ends of her hair where it lies in a tumble across the pillow. And – hers, definitely, he thinks, imagining how he might mix the right colour, brown and red, and if it would curl, or lie flat.

“I will tell him, vhenan.”

She murmurs something that sounds like agreement before she falls silent once more, but even as sleep pulls her back down in earnest, Solas remains awake, suddenly reluctant to welcome the Fade’s embrace. Because there’s a trickle of worry now at the back of his mind, of what he’ll find if he does – the sound of running feet and an elated voice calling out, young and bright. A bed that’s bigger but still too small, with her stomach round under his palm, and the mattress dipping under another shape who, like her mother, is not the least bit afraid to make room for herself.

But what worries him most is not the dream itself, but the very real longing that accompanies the idea now that it’s stubbornly taken root.

Sleeping in the same bed for the first time. for baby crows au?

Thanks for the prompt! Had lots of fun with this, they're just lil baby crowlings! Just lil guys! Although I have realised I have no idea how to write children haha. If they're acting older than their years its cause of uhhhhh trauma.

@dadrunkwriting

The boys were squirming once again, and now Talisen had started snoring right in her ear. Rinna elbowed the human boy in the ribs, he grumbled in his sleep, rolled over and started snoring again. Oh well. At least he was snoring in Zev’s ear now. Thoroughly awakened Rinna sat up in the bed, blinking at the moonlight streaming in through the window. The dormitory wasn’t much to speak of- it was filled with children of all ages, with enough beds for perhaps a quarter of their number. It was on purpose, she suspected, to see how the recruits would react. If they would force others out, if they would tough it out curled up on the floor, or if like the three of them had, if they would make alliances. Zev and Talisen were a few years into their training by now both about 9, Rinna at 10, was at the end of her first year. The two boys had been the only ones to survive their first year. Rinna wasn’t going to go the same way as the rest of their class. Removing Zevran’s leg from where it rested atop her legs she swung her feet down to sit on the side of the bed. Rubbing her eyes she looked around the room. Her eyes fell on the small shivering body of a young girl.

She was a pale gangly thing- probably about 7 years old, all elbows and knees. Her hair was black, though it was more of an ashy black than the midnight tones poets would wax on for hours. She looked more like a half drowned cat than a elven girl. And yet. For all her scraggly appearance, she was good. Very good. She had only joined the class a few days ago, but the girl was fast, smart, and very stubborn. Rinna only realised the girl was awake when a pair of spiteful grey eyes met her own. Despite her shivering, the child wasn’t crying- hadn’t cried or wailed or wept as far as Rinna had seen. So instead of rolling back into bed, pressing against the boy’s skin for warmth in the chilly Antivan night, she padded over to the child. She crouched down in front of the girl, the tattered fabric of her nightgown brushing against her toes. “I’m Rinna. Well, Rinnala, but nobody calls me that.” The girl glared at her, like a feral cat weighing the benefits of swiping at a tom getting too close. “And?” Rinna almost laughed. The girl has quite the mouth on her for a seven year old. It was almost impressive. But then again, who knew what the girl had been through. She didn’t look remotely Antivan after all. “What’s your name then?” Spelling out the question. “Mara. Mara Tabris.” “And how did you get here then Mara?” The girl opened her mouth to answer and then snapped it shut again. After a moment of pondering she squinted over Rinna, “why do you care?” Rinna swivelled around so that she was sitting next to the girl- to Mara. For all her bluster, the girl’s skin was cold enough to match her pale skin. “Is niceties not a good enough reason?” “No?” She said it like a question- though more as if she was confused how Rinna wasn’t keeping up with her. It stirred something in Rinna’s chest, though she wasn’t sure what. For some reason she wanted to wrap her arms around the shivering girl and pull her close. She shrugged, “fair enough I suppose.” They drifted into silence, but Rinna did not return to their bed and the pile of warm bodies on it. Mara broke the silence, voice toneless and sullen as every word other word she had yet spoken. “You can go you know?” “Oh I don’t know, maybe I’m enjoying your lovely company.” “I’m not lovely.” “Yeah I had gathered that…” she sighed, and decided to go all in. She would sort it out with the boys in the morning. “Look why don’t you come with me? You can share with Zev, Talisen and I?” Still the girl looked hesitant. Damn, she had good instincts for a 7 year old, even if her caution was unfounded this time around. Rinna continued, “you haven’t been here long, but I can already tell that you’re good. You’re smart, you’re quick, and you’re very good at letting people underestimate you. I won’t bind you to it, but we could use you on our side. How does that sound?” The girl shrugged, “fine,” though Rinna was sure she was more nervous about it than she let on. But Rinna stood and pulled Mara up with her, half leading, half dragging her over to the bed. She climbed in, settling amongst the boys’ tangle of limbs and patted the space next to her. Mara climbed in and Rinna wrapped her arms around the shivering elven child, staying there until they both fell asleep. When she woke, Mara wasn’t shivering anymore.

@beradan and I went to the Connecticut Renaissance Faire today as unnamed White Rat and Saint of Steel acolytes.

Emily's embroidery is from art by @magpiemalarkey, mine was designed by my partner based on art from various Kingfisher romance covers.

Typed and cleaned up a mini-zine I made a while ago for an ace week zine making event. Made in reaction to my continued frustration what is often seen as "acceptance" and the DSM.

Printable mini-zine here: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1CI-eKcPG61ezopxGcqYtYTYpkDelT3r5/view?usp=sharing

For folks not familiar with mini-zines here are instructions on how to fold them: https://docpop.org/2018/01/how-to-make-mini-comics-my-guide-to-cutting-and-folding-an-8-page-zine/

[Zine text:

Cover: Asterisk Acceptance. What does asexual acceptance actually mean?

Page 2: Asterisk acceptance: accepting something by adding exceptions to existing assumptions rather than challenging the assumptions.

This shows up all the time when people try to include asexuality. While often well meaning, it falls short of actual acceptance.

Page 3: Examples include:

We are all sexual beings* *except for some asexuals

A strong romantic relationship needs sex to thrive* *except for some asexual relationships

Sexual attraction is a core part of being human* *except for asexual people

Page 4: This even shows up in medical spaces.

The DSM, the text used for defining and diagnosing mental disorders in Canada and the USA, has two diagnosis that can often apply to asexual people.

In the most recent version of the DSM, DSM-V, these are Female Sexual Interest/Arousal Disorder (FSIAD) and Male Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder (MHSDD).

Page 5: Both of these diagnoses have exceptions for people who identify as asexual.

But is that enough? What about the person who’s never heard “asexual” before? What about the doctor that doesn’t believe them? What about those whose asexuality isn’t lifelong? Does this exception help them?

Page 6:

Asterisk acceptance fails because it doesn’t question the underlying assumptions. It only adds exceptions to the rule. It continues to alienate, obscure and other those that it places in the list of exceptions.

Page 7:

Not only does asterisk acceptance hurt asexual people, it closes the possibilities asexuality brings to non-asexual people.

How much stronger could consent be if “no” was always an option?

What types of connection and pleasure exist beyond sex?

What do we want sex to mean for us and our relationships? Are there more ways of accessing that meaning?

Last Page: Real acceptance must happen at the root.

“We are not bound forever to the circles of this world, and beyond them is more than memory.”

are any of your relatives criminals to your knowledge?