#apostacizing

[crucifixi]

❛ are ya winning son ? ❜

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ❛ I’m winning ❜

[humanitysong]

[ CLOSE ]  sender wrapping their arms around receiver who is on top after they’ve finished,  holding them close against their chest with their face hidden in their neck while they recover. 

wolfwood feels warm against his skin - alive would be another word but it is a word vash still recoils from. it all feels like an illusion and if he looks too close it will break, shatter into pieces that he would need to bury again ( he's tired. he's tired of burying the things and people he loves ).

vash hand still rests on the priest's chest, fingers carefully feeling for that heartbeat. his prosthetic is reaching to his hips, undoing the strap's buckles. the skin underneath the belts feel hot from previous activities and he's certain the stripes will stay but that is a problem for later.

"...you're alright?" he asks wolfwood with a quiet voice, leaning his head against dark hair and turning his face just enough to press a kiss to his temples. wolfwood's breath tickles his nape - it should be comforting. it should be reassuring. but he had not taken off his prosthetic, a little corner of his heart refusing to allow himself to fully trust, to truly relax.

and when he tries, when his head lowers to press soft kisses to wolfwood's neck ( always, always wolfwood. never nicholas. because nicholas, his nicholas, was dead and buried and rotting underground ) the smell is familiar but not quite the same. it could never be the same. but it is familiar enough to sooth the ache in his heart. they both needed this, by being like this, by sharing their warmth with each other and soft kisses as if they had kissed each other for years they could pretend that they did not see the cracks forming across their souls.

rem had once told him stories about beings that made you see the things you most desperately wished for, about mushroom rings in woods and places that are neither here nor there... and vash, who had never once seen a forest or walked among trees, thinks to himself that perhaps he had found such a ring in the way wolfwood's arm circle around him in an embrace.

soft smut prompts ( accepting ) // @apostacizing .

[misplacedreporter]

❝ you're not alone. you'll never be alone. not as long as i'm here. ❞

Her feet stop moving at that, turning her head to look up at him.

"You know better than to make promises you can't keep." She knows he knows better, they both do. Phantom blood dripping from phantom wounds, blood spattered and tattered beyond repair.

He won't stay, can't stay. Wolfwood's never been meant for staying, not really. At least not this one; Meryl makes a point of not trying to hold onto him, because she knows the harder she tries the more he'll slip away like smoke. This, though. This is enough. She's learned not to hold onto things she can't keep just as deeply as he has by now. She'll keep it for as long as she's allowed, and then she'll let go like always–

"Just the night's enough, Nicholas."

[typhoonvash]

tend --- different timeline, same shenanigans ...

⩥ @apostacizing || system of touch [OPEN]

tend.  for your muse to help tend to my muse’s injuries.

Vash's wounds hadn't yet closed, but he had to tend to Wolfwood's—and fast. The man looked like he was in excruciating pain, and it looked even worse the more the gunslinger tried to help. Had his first aid skills really gotten this bad?

"I don't... can... you even get hurt?"

He knew that this Wolfwood was different from the real Wolfwood, but he hadn't expected his care instructions to be different. How does someone take care of a man who's not quite dead but definitely not alive?

Wrapping his arm around the priest, Vash heaved him to his feet and walked him to the bed. He was letting out short, panting screams of agony that left the blond in a state of panic—he was trying so hard to keep his cool though.

Wolfwood was fighting him the whole time, as if trying to prevent him from treating his wounds, but Vash wasn't about to let his self-depricating nature prevent him from getting proper care. Eventually, he managed to gently press Nicholas to the bed so that he was laying on his back.

"Just... let me... take care of you—!"

He had to practically fight the man to take off his blazer, and he only screamed harder when Vash unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, revealing a gash stretching from his right ribs to his left hip—it was still bleeding.

"What the—we got out of the fight hours ago, why is it still bleeding?! Wolfwood!"

Any normal human would've passed out from the pain by now. It didn't look like the priest could pass out from the pain.

"H... how... how is this happening, you're dead, so—"

Dead. Dead.

Vash choked back tears, nearly mourning for the man who died in some reality different from his. He was dead, this man was different from his Wolfwood—he was different from every other person on this planet, he—

A gasping breath marked the return to reality. Just as suddenly as the pain began, it ebbed, and the wound began to stitch itself back together, good as new.

[millionsnife]

@apostacizing || dad?

"Did you know?" Nai stares up at Wolfwood, hands curled around the hem of his shirt as he demands answers. "Did you know about her," Tesla. "And what they did to her?"

Had he known all along? Had he just been pretending to not know, to keep Nai from finding out?

His eyes narrowed slowly. "Were you one of them?"

[sixty-billion]

@apostacizing

Oh.

It's not so bad.

The sentiment is right there on his chapped lips, like all the promises he made but couldn't keep—things said in good faith, with good intentions, where intention pales before action. Big words, someone (beloved) once told him. Big talk. Broken promises are just lies. And how long has it been?

Years blur together, breakneck and frantic spooling off into nothing, faces and names and sensations and voices flicker-flashing into the forefront of his mind.

It's right there, but he cannot speak it. He cannot speak, cannot spare words or breath or even tears for himself. It was inevitable he'd go too far. Inevitable after everything. Given the choice between healing himself and saving one of his sisters—or preserving anyone else for that matter—he would always choose this.

The legend of Vash the Stampede remains. So does the bounty, the guilt of culpability, one part true, one part scapegoat, more complicated than anyone alive knows.

And he is so, so tired.

Near-misses have become more frequent. Close calls have become closer. He no longer has vigilant eyes and ears at Bernardelli to rely on. They're buried here too. His friends. All in a row. None of them passed alone, a kindness he made sure of.

The orphanage packed up and moved to a newer facility in December proper a decade ago. He's been haunting this place like a ghost every couple of years. Little wonder he was tracked here.

Knees buckle to the sand, cooled in the shadows of abandoned Hopeland. He isn't going to make it down the promontory crawling one-armed, but—

It's not so bad.

Blood smears the sandstone.

I'm—

Closer. Exhale.

—Home.

At least he can see them as a crack punctuates his existence. Period. Interrobang in curling feathers and glazed stillness.

Crimson effloresces, pulsing with a ripple of mossy green, with trailing blooms, spreading across the barren rock.

[crybaby-livio]

bonks him upside the head with a soda can ... just like old times :,)

The missile SLAPS against Livio's skull with an audible 'plack!' of denting metal; louder, though, is his yelp, bulky arms pinwheeling in the effort to save his hat - or the can - or both - but failing altogether.

"Wha- HEY!"

Heeeeeey.

His frown is audible before it is visible as he stoops to recover his hat and the offending beverage, which sprays a fine orange mist.

"What was that for?" he whines, cracking open the ruptured can to drink before it goes to waste.

[crucifixi]

❛ is it this tight on you ? ❜ he walks out in his new attire, in solidarity with his younger self. ❛ 'cause this feels like it's gonna fail me any second now. ❜

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ His eyes widen in disbelief, and he starts coughing violently, nearly choking on his cigarette. He laughs so hard that he has a spit-take, spraying his surroundings with the spit — how gross. Tears stream down his face as he struggles to catch his breath.

❛ You... you've got to be kidding me! You really put one on?! ❜

He tries to regain composure after his laughing fit and wipe off the remaining tears.

❛ Oh it’s tight and all the wrong places. It’s worse in the confessional booth it rides up my ass too much. I already ripped the damn thing. ❜

He points down his exposed leg from the unintentional tear in the habit.

[aselysium]

❛ a'ight let's tell each other a secret about ourselves ... i'ma go first ... i hate you . ❜

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ❝ Cheat. That was my secret, first but feeling is mutual. Well, I know your little entanglement, Nicholas. ― ❞

❝ You are merely a tool, don’t get your lines blurred with your task. Just because you’re seen as useful doesn’t mean you’re not disposable. You want to still be the big brother that those children want to welcome back to, no? ❞

[humanitysong]

👫 we haven't talked yet but i'll bestow this upon you to use as a "general hc's for vash and wolfwood" post if you want !!

can we just appreciate how much va.sh trusts wol.fwood? bringing him to ship three, trusting him with protecting the people there when they each had different opponents? I don't think even va.sh knows exactly where this trust comes from. was it when wo.lfwood did not shoot him? or was that trust there beforehand? but it's just there.

I like to think that v.ash liked to tell wolfw.ood about stuff from earth, just things he remembers rem telling him. but also music ! just va.sh sometimes humming or singing around the other - sometimes softly, sometimes obnoxiously loud just to be a menace.

the fact he wanted to spend his tomorrows with wo.lfwood. i think... va.sh just wanted to travel with him? wolf.wood took so much of his loneliness away, make va.sh feel just more comfortable with who he is. i like to think mer.yl / mill.y are va.sh anchors to staying human but around wo.lfwood? it's fine. he can be what he really is, whatever that means. he can just be va.sh.

thinking about how we know va.sh feathers contain memories. how mery.l reacted to seeing those memories & how va.sh dealt with that rejection ... & then there are so many times he has his feathers out & uses them to protect wol.fwood. touches the other while they are out. he trusts that the other can deal with - & more importantly accept - what he will see. tldr whatever tri.max va.sh & wol.fwood had, it was undeniably a deep bond that I personally think was based on such beautiful, instinctive trust.

👫four headcanon meme ( selectively accepting ) // @apostacizing .

[misplacedreporter]

❛ we were about to be separated... it slipped out. ❜

"You know we need to talk about it, right? That's–it's not something I can just ignore." She's wondered; Meryl thinks that maybe this explains why he's been looking more and more human by the hour, and less like the corpse she's grown used to.

"You know–I mean, of course you know. But we can still figure something out." It's not a no, at least.

[typhoonvash]

CONCEAL : both muses have been injured or have fallen ill, though sender keeps their injury / illness secret in favor of taking care of receiver. however, as receiver gets better, sender’s injury / illness worsens from lack of care, and they wind up collapsing, their injury / illness fully revealed. 

⩥ @apostacizing || hurt/comfort [OPEN]

CONCEAL : both muses have been injured or have fallen ill, though sender keeps their injury / illness secret in favor of taking care of receiver. however, as receiver gets better, sender’s injury / illness worsens from lack of care, and they wind up collapsing, their injury / illness fully revealed. 

As it turned out, this... doomed... Wolfwood was just as grumpy as the real Wolfwood when it came to patching Vash up. They'd gotten into a pretty nasty scuffle that led to the pacifist taking three hits; two bullets went all the way through, while one got stuck in the meat of his shoulder. The Stampede could only grin and bear it while the man swore under his breath and made empty threats—but... it was pretty endearing. Reminded him of the times before July.

He sighed forlornly at the thought. He missed Wolfwood a lot sometimes.

All the time.

With a pat on the back, which Vash flinched at for obvious (and painful) reasons, this Wolfwood hefted himself off of the bed to take care of the bullet casings and bloody cloth.

"Thanks, Wolfwood," the blond's voice was tired, but genuine. It almost sounded like he was talking to his Wolfwood and not a ghost—

A crash came from the bathroom, the open door ensuring Vash heard everything. He heard casings hit the ceramic tile, a plate they'd borrowed shatter, and Wolfwood's grunt of pain. Despite his injuries, Vash hurried to the bathroom only to see the priest crouched in a puddle of his own blood, clutching his side.

Much to his chagrin, Vash reached out to comfort him.

Wolfwood said nothing, but let out a silent scream as he fell to the floor, nearly hitting his head on the ceramic tub in the process.

[sapphim]

aristide amell's grandkids showing up and making a big splash in kirkwall under the name of hawke—that had to have turned some heads, right

any busybody worth their salt would know all about the amells. leandra's sudden elopement 25 years ago, the family's ties (and debts) to smugglers and slavers, revka's children all found to be mages and taken away to the circle, gamlen gambling away the family's estate after several untimely deaths. it's old gossip but it's juicy

judging by how little people react to the name hawke, it seems not to be common knowledge that leandra eloped with an apostate, but it is known by some. her family knew, after all. the wardens knew. it seems unlikely that it wouldn't be institutional knowledge among the templars, as well

no matter how careful the hawkes had once been to avoid drawing undue attention to themselves—when hawke returns from the deep roads expedition with sudden wealth and immediately moves into the old amell estate with the prodigal daughter, that's something that people would notice

kirkwall's templar order, knowing that magic runs rampant in the amell family, and knowing, perhaps, that one of their own mages once disappeared—a long time ago now—with an infatuated young noblewoman, surely they would take notice. especially if around this same time, a sister turned herself over to the circle. or a brother joined the templars and displayed a knack for templar magic usually only seen among the children of mages

mage or not, hawke had to be under firm suspicion of apostacism from the end of their first year in kirkwall onward

[v-arbellanaris]

why are people so pressed? alistair IS selfish and irresponsible. literally he lets the player lead after the flop of ostagar and you'd think he'd want to shoulder the burden just a bit but nope. i wish we could have delved deeper into that aspect of him.

yeah and idk! if at any point he acknowledges that he essentially foisted off all decision making to the warden even if that means making decisions he personally doesn't like... and it's really... odd? that his like... Disapproval route or whatever basically relies on you acting like he's an idiot. when he's not an idiot - that was never the problem that any of my wardens (evadne, faris and even aedan) had with him. alistair is very much not an idiot - what he is, in their view, is irresponsible. but instead, all the 'mean' things you can say to alistair involve calling him stupid which literally is not the problem here.

i think @apostacism's tags here describe it best: he doesn't want to make choices but he does want you to make the choices he would have made. when sten disapproves of your leadership, he steps up to try and take it from you by force if necessary. alistair will not do that, but complain about the decisions you make anyway. (and sure! some of those decisions are "evil" or whatever but there's enough in-game justification to do some of those things and, more importantly, alistair left it to you to make the decision.)

i think it's an interesting perspective to take on alistair and the warden's relationship. idk why people can't seem to consider it a viable opinion but i suspect that, once again, it's a case of "MY blorbo must be perfect and flawless and the best and this has nothing to do with my need to receive external validation for my moral stances which i believe are reflected in my media choices".

or people are just boring.

[darethshirl]

solas exchange fics!!

this post is criminally late omg but I finally got around to it! This was by far the most fun I’ve ever had with an exchange (not to toot our own horn lmao) and there were so many many many beautiful works created that I’m gonna rec more fics than usual!

My gifts:

strike a match (whisper my name) by @dreadfutures (Solas & Dorian, 8500 words, T rated)

Blood magic. Blight magic. Time magic.

From the earliest troubles of the Inquisition, it is clear that the topics are intertwined, and Dorian is determined to tease it all out. He is, after all, the brightest thaumaturge Minrathous has seen in an Age.

If only Solas would recognize the fact, they might truly get somewhere.

A Dorian pov that’s both delightful and makes you feel things 🥺🥺 Dorian is so very clever, and pushes back juuust enough to get some fun reactions from Solas 👀👀 Also this fic follows them both through-out the inquisition AND afterwards, so that was Fun 👀

-

Fen'Harel and the Halla by sweaterghost (Fen’harel & Ghilan’nain, 2500 words, T rated)

Reality seems to break, as if Ghilan’nain has torn it apart with her hands.

The new creature emerges from that break as if born, bloody and panting on the floor of Ghilan’nain’s laboratory.

And it is horrible.

Or: Solas remembers his friendship with Ghilan'nain and how it fell apart. Told in vignettes.

Some G L O R I O U S horror happening in this fic 👀👀👀👌👌👌Beautiful and dark and visceral, this was everything I could have ever hoped for in a Ghilan’nain fic 👌 gimme more cold pitiless mad scientist Ghil please and thank you

My offering:

shed all your layers (Anders & Solas, 4300 words, T rated)

When Anders returns blearily to consciousness the first thing he sees is the earthy ceiling of a cave, badly illuminated by a nearby campfire. The second thing he sees, when he turns his head, is a pair of luminescent eyes staring right at him.

“Maker!” Anders jerks upright, scrambling for his staff. His magic flares up in a sputtering, flimsy barrier. “What the—who the hell are you?”

The pair of eyes belongs to an elven man, crouching next to Anders, wearing traveler’s clothes and a neutral, calm expression. “Good. I see your body has recovered,” he says, evidently unfazed by both the shouting and the magic. He rises up—and up, and up; this stranger is tall—and turns back towards his campfire. “Do try not to make any more sudden movements though.”

—

Two hermits, carrying their own secrets, stumble upon each other.

well!! I don’t have anything to say about this other that I had an enormous amount of fun writing it! 😂 I never knew how much I wanted these two to snipe at eachother until I had it. Also while Justice wasn’t a significant enough presence to merit his own tag, his ghost haunts the narrative the entire time

special shoutouts to:

where all roads lead by @apostacism/wilderferns (Solas/Female Lavellan, 10000 words, T rated)

"Lavellan sometimes came awake from dreams in which her lover watched her sadly from across an endless distance."

Solas means to stay away. It would be easier in the long run. Yet he turns ever back to her, chasing in dreams what he cannot have in reality.

one of the most AMAZING!!!! solavellan fics I’ve read in ages!!! like seriously if you like this ship and you read nothing else on this list PLEASE give this one a try, it’s so lyrically beautiful and a PERFECT Solas characterisation and honestly I’m still reeling from this fic, it’s gonna be living rent-free on my mind pretty much permanently from now on 👌

-

The Eyes of Gods by @edda-grenade/apfelgranate (Mythal & Solas, 2000 words, T rated)

Pride has grown in power from a mere spirit, in serving as the All-Mother’s messenger. Mythal thinks it should keep growing, but Pride has reservations. 

gorgeous gorgeous prose, very atmospheric and evocative and, for the lack of a better term, Mythological TM. Also Solas’s depiction as a spirit in this is one of the best I’ve seen!

-

Celestine Black by @queenaeducan/theharellan (Josephine & Solas, 2400 words, G rated)

Though Skyhold's guests may be of noble blood, their manners often leave much to be desired. When one insults the Inquisition's resident magical expert, who just so happens to be an apostate, Josephine takes it upon herself to remedy the situation. In typical Montilyet fashion. 

as always this author delivers pure gold! a very thoughtful and careful character study both of Josephine and of Solas as seen though her clever eyes. Delightful!

-

in our eternity, only darkness reigns by @rosella-writes (Dirthamen & Solas, 2000 words, T rated)

Solas accompanies the Inquisitor to the Lost Temple of Dirthamen. The experience digs up old memories Solas had nearly forgotten.

SUCH a good, dark atmosphere in this one! Also the Solas Angst TM is unparalleled 👌👌 read this if you want to feel the crushing weight of an unchaning, uncaring world lol

AND ALRIGHT this post is already getting too long so I’m gonna really really super quickly mention some other fics I liked:  this Alistair & Solas fic (seeing Solas though a stranger eyes is swiftly becoming my favourite trope ever, and Alistair’s voice here is absolutely fantastic), this Zevran/Solas fic (the flirting!! my god 🥰), this Iron Bull/Solas fic (soulmates au but make it HURT 👌)  and this solavellan fic (super ambitious, super intriguing, super pretty!)

okay I’m done!! whoof! also seriously just check the rest of the collection cause SO MANY of the works we got were gorgeous and I only talked about less than half of them!!! go see them for yourself!! and thank you to everyone who participated 🥰🥰🥰

[crucifixi]

❛ why the hell do y' have a spray named plantussy ... ❜ a pause, ❛ what the fuck even is a plantussy ? ❜ he's too old for this.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ❛ It was a cheeky gift from Needles. Little fucker sprayed a lot on me or something? ❜

He wiping his face with the older version’s sleeve. He probably reeks of plantussy now.

❛ Your needles don’t have one of those— shit how do I explain it..❜