#happy the transition is going well!

[waitineedaname]

your male power fantasy stallion protagonist? yeah sorry we forcefemmed her. she's much happier now. yeah actually there wasn't any forcing involved, the moment it was suggested she just started femming herself with a fervor that was honestly impressive. something about being a housewife? I don't know, it was either that or be a girlboss with a body count, so I guess this was the best option. her wife seems happy about it at least. oh, you thought she had a husband? haha yeah about that

[gyrovagi]

(ao3 link)

The Rivaini amulet is an intricate paperweight on the corner of Solas' desk, and Cole is absent from the uppermost floor of the Herald's Rest.

It is not, Solas reminds himself, immediate cause for concern. There are any number of secluded corners in Skyhold where Compassion might come to rest—and since their return from Redcliffe, the sight of a pale boy in an overlarge hat has become much more memorable for the Inquisition's rank and file. He could descend the stairs and be given half a dozen places to look in the span of a minute.

Solas does not descend the stairs. He clasps his hands behind his back, studies the rays of afternoon light filtering through the dust covering the window panes, and allows the absence to settle.

The truth is that there is little he can say to Cole now, and less he can do for him. All he can do is hope, and hope that hope is enough. That the power of Varric's belief can ward off blood magic, and the Inquisitor—

"Solas?"

—the Inquisitor is coming up the stairs, her footsteps almost silent. She hesitates at the top, her right hand coming to rest on the railing beside her, and steps no closer. "It is you," Rosamund says, her voice going soft with surprise. "I thought—you don't usually—"

She presses her lips together, frowning briefly, before her words come out in order. "Were you looking for Cole?"

"I... yes." He hadn't thought himself visible from below; the Inquisitor's sudden appearance has caught him off-balance. "Have you seen him?"

"I think he..." Rosamund glances to the side for a moment. "He may be with Varric. He's been trying to teach him Wicked Grace again."

Solas is certain that is not what she originally meant to say, but the matter is not worth pressing. "I see. I won't interrupt, then."

Trevelyan nods, something troubled in her expression. It does not clear as Solas walks past her towards the door to the battlements, and the thought gives him pause a moment before he reaches to open it.

"Solas, can I—"

Rosamund looks just as taken aback by her outburst as Solas feels. She blinks at him, already beginning to instinctively shrink in on herself, before she takes a rallying breath to speak.

"Are you upset with me?"

The question immediately explains her behavior. It is also completely incomprehensible. He momentarily considers the possibility that she has participated in another round of mayhem with Sera and he is yet to discover the consequences—but they were just discussing Cole.

"Did you think I was?" Solas asks, carefully neutral.

Rosamund worries the fabric of her sleeve between her fingers, her bottom lip between her teeth. "I don’t know," she says at length, gaze fixed on the ground. "I know you were—are worried about Cole. That he might not be safe, without the amulet."

"That is no fault of yours."

"Isn't it?” She lets the question linger, lifting her eyes to meet Solas’ with unexpected steel. “We went to Redcliffe in order to find what was preventing the amulet from working, and came back no better off. I asked for your counsel and disregarded it. You would have every right to blame me.”

“Perhaps. But I do not. You did what you thought best at the time, Inquisitor. If you have come to regret the decision—” 

"I don't," Rosamund immediately replies. "That isn’t what I… I couldn’t have—” She wraps her arms around herself as if anticipating the need for defense, the line of her shoulders drawn tight. Every part of her seems to want to flinch away, but she holds herself steady. "You said something, to Varric. About how we can't change our nature by wishing."

It takes Solas a moment to reorient, to send his memory further back. "Yes, I remember. It seems I was proven wrong."

"But you meant it, when you said it."

The only answer Solas can give is, "Yes," and the instant Rosamund tenses further he knows it was the wrong one. 

She nods, seemingly to herself, and glances over to the wall. "Even if," she says slowly, deliberately, "it might not keep him safe, I couldn’t have told Cole not to—not to want. I couldn’t have said it didn’t matter. Or that it mattered less."

Solas understands every word, yet he can't shake the feeling that he is missing something. Trevelyan will not meet his gaze; she looks as if she wants nothing more than to flee back to the tavern's warmth below. Her fingers twist in the sleeve of her dress, nails digging in with such force Solas worries she may tear the fabric. The light through the window turns the brown of her hair to gold, sets the sunburst on her forehead ablaze, and the entire time Rosamund curls into herself as if determination alone will render her body invisible.

He pities her, sometimes, and envies her in others, and has no right to either feeling. For a moment, his chest is too tight with sympathy to speak.

Then he says, as gently as he dares, "It is not the same."

"I didn't say it was." Rosamund's voice is painfully small. "But it is. Similar. Isn't it?"

"Perhaps," he concedes, "in some ways. But the gulf between spirits and mortals is—" —is irrelevant. What she needs to hear from him is not more information about the Fade.

But there is no world in which he can explain himself to her. It has been an honor to come to know Rosamund for herself, and Cole may yet become fully of this world, or close enough to forget the distance.

Solas never will. It is thousands of years too late.

"I did not mean to diminish you, Inquisitor. Or to imply that I am not glad to know you as you are."

The apology is lackluster, if that is what it is. Rosamund relaxes, all the same, and looks at him with relief clear in her face.

"I know," she says, with more understanding than he is owed. "I didn't think you did, Solas, I only—it seemed to me a sad thing to believe."

The truth is rarely kind. Rosamund does not need Solas to tell her as much. "As I said, I was proven wrong in Cole's case. He is stronger than I gave him credit for."

"In Cole's case." There's faint amusement in her voice, but something melancholy in her eyes. "So you still think it true."

"I have found it to be true, more often than not." The sentiment feels too cold, left bare and alone. Solas sighs and makes his best attempt to soften it. "It was not simply wishing that made you who you are, Rosamund, or Cole. The wishing is easy. The work is more than most are willing to shoulder. Or, perhaps, able to endure."

"I suppose you have a point. But wishing for change is where it starts."

"And often," he adds, not without humor, "where it ends."

She smiles, conceding nothing. "If you believe it will be. It doesn't have to be." Then she pauses, tilts her head, considers him for a long moment. "We could interrupt, you know. Varric and Cole, I mean. I don't think they'd mind company."

The offer is easily given. It is impossible to take. He wishes—

"Another time, perhaps. I've kept you long enough, Inquisitor."

"Oh," Rosamund says. "Alright."

Her disappointment is as clear as it is gentle, and all the more unbearable for it. Solas carries it out of the tavern with him; he holds it as a precious, tender thing. It is, after all, exactly what he deserves.

[iamthemaestro]

gender rant in tags

[sodafrog13]

i am, for the record, tired of getting the question "so (when) are you going to start T?"

the answer is no. it has always been no. please stop fucking asking.

[razzle-zazzle]

rolling transfem tuffnut around in my head like :]

[cephalofrog]

watched the TV movie

is. is crying with happiness the intended reaction

[hampterguts]

do all gender care specialists fucking suck in relation to gender care or is it just mine

[multishipper-baby]

Random Onnie gender thoughts plus oc x canon for flavor.

[radio-4-is-static]

KATATOKI Teaser | Yojiro Noda x J.I.D Listen to WONDER BOY'S AKUMU CLUB here !!

[inkmaze]

the funny thing is my gender identity is actually really simple? it's (agender)= none or neutral or void or whatever. and the absence of smth should be relatively simple to understand but na. to a lot of ppl it's soooo confusing

[elegyofthemoon]

shaking excitedly and tiredly

[boimgfrog]

when I want nothing more than 2 move far away but my state is one of the few that's actively protecting and supporting trans ppl/trans healthcare. mixed feeligns.

[juspeczyk]

me planning how i'm going to put these blorbos through hell:

me when the blorbos reach hell and i actually have to write multiple chapters of angst and pain and struggle:

[gillyeowalters]

Because it is the anniversary of his death, I wanted to share a small story about my grandfather.

Before I knew that I was intersex, I identified as a trans man. And I went the way any trans man has to go if he wants to transition in my country. My parents thankfully were supportive but I was afraid to tell my grandparents. My grandparents were German and lived/were raised during the third reich. While both of them never said or acted in a way that suggested that they had fascist views (my grandfather was until he died part of a leftwing political party), but there still was this fear in me. "They are old, they grew up surrounded by abhorrent beliefs...". And then there was my aunt. Who would constantly claim that my grandfather was homophobic.

The problem was, back then, there were no openly out gay people in our area, so I never got the chance to see my grandfather interact with someone who was queer. So I just believed her. Because she was so insistent on it. And because it confirmed my fears and my brain loves to be constantly afraid.

But I knew I wanted to come out. I had to, eventually, because I had stopped my estrogen treatment (back then, I did not know that I got that because I was intersex) and went on testosterone instead and first physical changes began to show. We all lived in one big house, so my grandparents would eventually notice.

I was so afraid that my father at some point offered to talk to his parents. I waited outside in the hallway that led to their kitchen and listened.

My father explained, easy to understand, that I was going to transition from female to male because I felt terrible in my body. My grandfather asked, "Is that why the child* is so depressed all this time?" I had been in and out of multiple clinics for manic depression at that point. My father gave a yes. And my grandmother made the incredibly selfish comment, "Can't that wait until I am dead?"

Before I even got time to be upset, my grandfather slammed his fist down on the table. I had never seen or heard him do anything like that before. He was a very calm and collected man who preferred to leave the room before he got too angry. "No, it can't wait. The child gets to get well now. And if that is what is going to help, then it needs to be done."

From that day on, he never used my deadname again or used the wrong pronouns for me. Sometimes, he would stop in a sentence to think and remind himself, but he did always address me correctly.

He celebrated with me when my name was legally changed. He built the bed frame for me and my boyfriend's bed when we moved in together, just like he had built the first adult sized bedframe for me when I outgrew my small bed. He drove my boyfriend to his chemo sessions because my grandfather also had cancer and knew how terrifying it was to go alone.

Did he fully understand what it means to be intersex? To transition? No. But he understood that one of his loved ones was suffering and that he could help to alleviate that pain. And so he did.

He taught me calligraphy. He taught me how to sew. He taught me bookbinding. He gave me many gifts.

But the biggest gift he gave me was, that when someone hated me for what I am, I could stomach it. Because this man was willing to unlearn the bigotry he had been taught for decades so he could love me for who I am.

*in my grandpa's dialect it was normal to refer to children as just 'the child' (genderless)

EDIT

I was blown away by how many people have reblogged this post. I believe my grandfather would be very happy to see that he can give some hope and love to others even now.

I do not want him to stay faceless; so here is a piece of art I made for his obituary, with a slightly altered quote added now.

Dahlias were his favorite flowers. Orange ones especially. They reminded him of the home he had to flee from as a child.

EDIT 28/03/25

Happy birthday.

[planetarytransformation]

so many of the transfems i know spent their time pre-transition performing a kind of lifelong exercise in self-deprivation, the goal of which was to find out exactly how little a person needed to live. they starved themselves, dressed carelessly, shunned friends, and hollowed themselves out so as not to be burdens on anyone but themselves.

i see it now, too, in the girls around me. i'll ask if they want care – a home-cooked meal, relaxed company, sex without the expectation of reciprocation – and they say no, no, thank you, i don't need it; what would you like, what do you want, because in their head they're still doing that awful calculus, still training themselves to disappear in the eyes of the people around them.

i don't think i'd have died without transition – not in the conventional sense, at least – but to take that leap, i had to stop thinking of myself as a human experiment in fuel-efficient living and start nurturing the anemic, atrophied flame of desire in my heart. i had to learn to eat well, to exercise, to style myself beautiful, but harder than that, i had to learn to ask the people around me to work on my behalf in order to enrich my life and give me the things i wanted.

and i did it; i learned. and it was agony, but courage is a muscle you can train, and every day i get better at accepting gifts with the hungry gratitude i never learned in my years and years as a sad, scared, lonely boy.

so be patient with the trans girls in your life. better than that: be proactive, attentive, generous; be forceful, if you have to, and learn to distinguish real discomfort from the terrified reflex of self-denial that so many of us once learned to rely on.

and if you are so lucky as to love a trans girl, you must insist upon her. you must insist upon her happiness, her comfort, her pleasure, and her rest, because she may still not yet know how to make those demands for herself. if you can devote any amount of energy to becoming an engine that nurtures the flame of even a single tgirl then there is a place for you in trans heaven, which as far as i'm concerned is the only one worth going to

[avenxizz]

feeling depressed about my gender again </3