everyone thinks varric is going to die (me included unfortunately) and he's my favourite character so this is extremely upsetting. to cope i drew some awful varrichawke angst meoww (my soul is in the depths of agony)
Quick and Dirty Varric Tethras... WAIT NOT LIKE THAT
(God, I love Procreate. Took some time to get used to it but now, it feels super comfortable to draw on an iPad)
They didn't keep him as a love interest because they knew people were not going to be normal about him. And look at me, not being normal about him. He's completely my type.
I also wanted to thank everyone for the love on the Solas pieces, I can't believe you guys like them so much!
#i was literally thinking about this today#they have a MASSIVE amount of users and... they decide they need donations. ignore the palestine thing happening theyre more important#apparently#reblog
I understand that you're 22 and corporate internet is all you've ever known, but you need to know that users COST sites money.
The sole case when users do not cost sites money is when 1) users are constantly shown ads, 2) users' private data is being harvested and sold to advertisers.
AO3 does not do either of those things. It was its mission upon being founded to not do either of those things. And thus, we have twice-yearly donation drives. Every year. Yes, every year. Even that year. Even the April and October of the pandemic, even the Aprils and the Octobers of mass BLM movements, even the April after Ukraine was invaded, and yes, even this October. It's not "failing to read the room". It's called maintenance costs and being an ad-free NGO that doesn't monetise its users.
I need young people to realize that when you say "AO3 should just make money like social media sites do rather than running donation drives" what you are actually suggesting is "AO3 should sell detailed and privacy-violating data on the porn consumption habits of its users to ad companies in order to make a quick and easy buck." That's what you're suggesting when you push for that.
This is like if you looked at Wikipedia and said "Why are they asking for donations? They could just charge people and companies money to be able to rewrite their Wikipedia pages to say whatever they want about their brands!"
I mean, yeah? They could sell out their fundamental mission and all of their core userbase in order to squeeze some money out of advertising and general enshittification. They could do that. Do you really want them to? Really? Is the little donation banner (which I assume you never bother to click on anyway) really so annoying to you that you'd rather the site just sucks forever (but without needing donations, I guess)? Call me out of touch, but somehow I doubt that any of you advocating for that sort of thing would actually want the inevitable results.
Posts like this are so blatantly hypocritical. How much money does @stagegore give to Netflix every year? How much does the OP, or anyone agreeing with the OP, spend on movie tickets? On video games? On concert tickets? On books? On music?
Entertainment costs money.
AO3 is a non-profit service that provides entertainment.
Donating money to AO3 will always be 10000x more "ethical" than buying entertainment from any of the evil capitalist billionaire oligarchs that run literally every other popular entertainment service, but you don't see OP aiming their vitriol at people with Hulu subscriptions, do you?
OP's so-called "ethics" amount to nothing more than a hot mess of hypocricy, double standards, and reactionary brainrot.
For @blossom-adventures <3 || Ardyn x Reader || CW: violence, threat, injury. Words: 3.3k
You’re sent by Niflheim to retrieve information about Insomnia and the Crystal’s whereabouts in hopes of returning it to its rightful owner and destroying the Citadel once and for all.
Someone was hot on your tail.
You knew it’d be risky heading into the heart of the enemy, but despite all warnings against your advancement, you had concocted a plan to determine a weakness; A crack in the armour of Lucis. You knew that somewhere amongst the high reaching buildings of the capital, there was a mortal flaw.
A Glaive missing at their post. Gossip in the ranks. An unguarded entryway.
To them, you were the enemy. But you were simply there to make moves to claim back what was stolen from Niflheim.
Stolen from him.
You weaved through the streets of Insomnia under cover of night, but that wasn’t enough. Whether it was a Glaive or one of the Crownsguard, you’d been made, and they were in pursuit. You cut into the night, seeing the blue flashes above you as you careened into a thin alleyway, surveying your surroundings for a way up. Your eye caught a glimpse of metal under the moonlight; a fire escape.
You pushed off the ground, hurtling toward it and scaling upward to make it to their level. With each rung you climbed you gave a grunt of effort, lungs drawing in quick breaths and exhaling frosty clouds.
The power of the crystal. You’d recognise it anywhere. This means they hadn’t just sent any old royal guard after you; the King would stop at nothing to apprehend you. A twinge of something nagged at your mind, biting back the sting of failure and instead focussing on your escape.
Sure, they were fast.
But you were faster.
Never give someone the high ground, he’d taught you. Be one step ahead of your enemy.
You hauled yourself up and over the ladder onto the flat top of a high-rise building, scanning your surroundings.
“I’m flattered,” you called into the dark, raising an eyebrow. “For the mighty Cor Leonis to send his most special Glaive in my pursuit?” You crouched, watching for movement. “Better off safe than dead, I suppose.”
You twirled a dagger in your hand, gripping the hilt tightly.
“What’s say we put an end to this game of cat and mouse?”
Still, you saw nothing. No shifting in the shadows, no signature blue sparks. Baiting them out wasn’t going to work. Successful withdrawal was your priority, but it was difficult to pause and navigate with him trailing closely behind.
You could tell they were waiting.
And the longer they waited, the less chance you had of escape.
More chances for reinforcements to arrive. More chances for them to close in. Gritting your teeth you turned heel and started running, leaping from building to building above the bright lights below, feeling the cold air burn past your cheeks as you went.
It frustrated you to not be able to stand and fight, but the feeling was absolved by your better judgement. You’d be vastly outnumbered potentially within minutes. There was nothing left to do but swallow your pride and flee.
You’d seen enough for tonight; another amplifier disguised amongst a nest of high rise buildings. That is how you would take down the Wall. You’d scoped almost all of them, but you had to be certain. If there was one thing Ardyn wouldn’t stand for it was negligence, but moreover, you feared not his wrath, but his disappointment.
Too caught up in your ire to concentrate, you launched yourself from one building to the other, losing your footing as you landed and teetering on the edge. Your arms flailed as the damp roof ground beneath your boots, starting to fall backward, heel tipping off the ledge in slow motion.
Your hands reached forward for purchase but swiped at nothing but thin air, until—
A strong grip presented itself on the front of your jacket, twisting in the fabric and hauling you back up onto the rooftop, tossing your stiff, adrenaline filled body to the ground.
It was too fast, too dark to see, hissing in pain as you skidded toward the feet of a stranger. There was more than one of them now. It was over.
“Be thankful we didn’t let you fall to your death,” a deep voice spoke above you. He stepped over your limp body and whispered something to the man who saved you— but without enough time to fling your dagger across the rooftop toward him, you felt an almighty crack in your skull, and everything went dark.
—
They were too fast. Too succinct. Had they known you were coming?
Your first conscious breath was pain. Pain in your back, your chest, your head. Your fingers gently combed through the hair at the back of your head, snagging on a flaky, matted section at the back.
Blood. Whoever had knocked you unconscious wanted to make sure you were out cold.
You squinted into the outline of a blurry light bulb swinging from the ceiling above, noticing something was disturbing your vision.
Metal bars.
The room was small, half of it portioned off behind thick metal poles sunk deep into the ground. On the other side, there was an empty wooden chair.
You shifted uncomfortably, legs tingling where your bodyweight had been lying unevenly. It took everything within you not to scream, trying to temper your rage with what little strength remained. How could you have allowed this to happen? It was the first time you’d been imprisoned since your defection to Niflheim.
As soon as you regained the feeling in your legs, you stood, wrapping each hand around the bars and tugging firmly.
“Damnit,” you cursed, wincing at the throb in your skull.
You had no idea where you were; clearly you were in the hands of the Crownsguard, but you were prepared. You’d been trained for this. Lucis were soft, there’s no way they’d break you.
But you were a valuable asset. An asset worth bargaining for.
Second in command to Niflheim’s Imperial Army and known love interest of the formidable Chancellor Ardyn Izunia— this was all the leverage they needed.
Footsteps fast approached the only door in and out of the room, and a well dressed man entered; he was tall and slender. Not exactly the threatening type.
You remained silent. Better for him to play his hand first.
“You’d have realised by now you’re not in a favourable position.” He cleared his throat and took a seat. “So I suggest you cooperate.”
You removed your hands from the bars and took a step back. “What do you want?”
“It’s not so simple as that.” He crossed his legs, slinging his elbow over the back of the chair. “It’s more what you…represent.”
Again, you said nothing. What exactly was this guy's angle?
“Considering your position, it’s been agreed that interrogating you would be rather… pointless. Though, I do think there are some things we may be able to discuss amicably.”
“I’m not telling you anything.” You folded your arms. “So get over your monologue and let me go before you live to regret it.”
The man chuckled quietly. “Oh dear,” he said with lighthearted amusement. “You don’t know how much trouble you’re in, do you?”
Something inside you faltered. You needed leverage. A bargaining chip.
“As soon as they know I’m missing you’ll feel the wrath of the Imperial Army.” You swallowed nervously, and he noticed.
“Is that so?” He said, dismissing your unfortified threats. “Let’s move on, shall we?” Standing, he moved closer to you, about an arms length away. “King Regis means to whip you through the streets.”
Your stomach dropped.
“He…” Your mouth hung open. “He…what?”
A twisted smirk crept onto his lips. “I must admit I was quite surprised by the King’s cruelty upon his suggestion, but I fear he’s become quite tired of mercy.”
“You can’t.” You shook your head in disbelief. The Crown would never display such a crass act of punishment.
“We can.” He looked you dead in the eyes. “And we will.”
At that moment, all your defences crumbled. You could withstand imprisonment, interrogation, even physical punishment; but public humiliation? Stripped and whipped through the streets lined with thousands of your enemies. It was incomprehensible. It was torture.
Following your silence, he began to pace back and forth in front of the bars slowly. “Allow me to extend you…let’s call it, a lessening of your sentence.”
Your eyes followed him as he walked.
“Tell me exactly why you were here, and you may appeal to the King’s mercy.” He stopped and turned to you. “Though I can’t make any promises.”
“What’s stopping you doing exactly the same to me even if I talk?” Your breaths became shallow.
“Nothing,” he said plainly, staring at you. “You’ll just have to trust that I’ll vouch for you.”
You didn’t believe him for a second. He’d strip that information from you and hang you out to dry like the snake he was. Instead, you opted for ignorance, telling the man what he knew already.
“Niflheim wants to bring down the Wall.”
Again, he chuckled softly. “The Wall cannot be brought down.”
You knew that was a lie. You’d scoped out the vast city before, noting that across the area there were towers that served to amplify the Crystal’s power and maintain the wall. Without them, the Wall could be destroyed.
“But that’s not really why you were here, is it?” He sighed. “If you mean to misdirect me, I think you’ll find my patience wears thin.”
“I’m telling you the truth.” You frowned, trying to steady your breathing.
He couldn’t find out that Niflheim were developing technology to nullify the wall. He couldn’t know that you knew the location of the amplifiers.
“So you’ve made up your mind, then.” The man sighed and stopped, turning to face you. “Last chance.”
“That’s all I know.” He wasn’t buying it. You had run out of time.
“I see.” For a moment, you thought you saw sadness on his face. Or was it regret?
Clasping his hands behind his back, he headed for the door.
“Wait!” You reached through the bars in desperation. “You can’t do this.”
He paused momentarily before heading for the door, letting it slam shut as he left. It was happening. Tomorrow, you’d be flogged through the streets as a traitor.
Made an example of.
You sank to the ground in despair, burying your face in your hands. There had to be a way out of this. He had to come to your aid.
—
The sun didn’t rise that morning. A low, thick haze beneath grey clouds cast a dull hue across the city. The morning’s news spoke of a gathering in the streets to display the King’s vengeance and dedication to protect his people. You’d been reduced to a lesson.
A message for Niflheim to back off.
You’d pleaded with the guards who dragged you out of your cell. Begged them, bribed them; but they remained the loyal King’s dogs through and through.
Regis was making a mistake. Your maiming, or worse, death, would only bring about the wrath of the Empire.
You could hear Ardyn’s voice in your head, telling you to hold on. An imagination of hope. You longed for his embrace as your limp body was dragged outside and you were tossed into the back of an empty van. As the engine roared to life, you heard your fate be sealed as the doors were firmly locked.
The jeer and chants of crowds forming outside only solidified your dread. This was really going to happen. You wondered if the King would do it himself— no, he wouldn’t want to get his hands dirty. This wasn’t a job for him or his Glaives; all he needed to do was show his face and then retreat to his finery whilst the people of Insomnia intensified his message.
Niflheim would soon hear of it.
But by then, it’d be too late.
“Ardyn…” You whispered, defeated. “Not like this.” You had been abandoned, but what did you expect? It was too risky to march into the capital, let alone undetected, and he couldn’t send the ships with the Wall in use.
Besides, were you really worth saving?
You steeled your resolve, scowling as the van screeched to a halt and the doors flung open.
Before you there was a long street headed for the Citadel lined with thousands of people. They began throwing things into the street before your feet had even touched the tarmac. The hiss of the crowd crawled up your spine like a riled snake as a man ushered you out of your corner of safety and into the dim light of day.
Though they’d taken your shoes, they’d mercifully allowed you to remain in your shirt and pants, though they were suitably filthy after they’d dragged you from your cell. As soon as you were forced to stand and face the crowd, what little remained of your courage buckled.
The whole of Insomnia had gathered for the King’s spectacle.
You jolted as the van doors slammed behind you and the vehicle drove away, leaving you and three men at your back, one shoving you forward.
The ground was cold and wet beneath your feet, taking the first step in this shameful display. You readied yourself for the pain, ignoring the onslaught of heinous insults from the crowd and instead listening for the guard to raise his whip.
It was barbaric.
One pushed you forward, urging you to walk, letting the crowd soak up your fear before the real punishment began. So you did; your feet begrudgingly dragged you forward toward the Citadel where undoubtedly Regis was awaiting your bloody form. Or your corpse.
You wanted to cover your ears to drown out the noise, but you held your head high, focussing directly ahead and concentrating on every chill step you took.
But something on the left caught your eye. Nestled between the crowds of people there were white vans, the sides of them plastered with tacky news advertising, but the camera crews were nowhere to be seen.
You paused, seeing another on the right before feeling a hard shove from behind sending you to your knees. You collapsed with a hard thud and the crowd cheered, looking over your shoulder at a stranger who withdrew a whip from his belt. It was time.
You turned away and looked down, taking a deep breath and holding it, squeezing your eyes shut in preparation for the pain.
It cut through the air.
The whip cracked.
The crowd gasped.
But…nothing came.
Your head snapped around, hand fumbling at your back to see if the whip had in fact hit you but your body was simply too pumped full of adrenaline to notice yet.
But your eyes settled on a familiar sight.
“Hello dear.” Ardyn’s amber eyes flashed with menace as the whip dangled in his grip.
The two remaining guards scattered like cowards before the crowd began an uproar of screams and panic, swarming like flies to scramble away from the busy streets to no avail.
Before you could even stand, you heard the roll of a van door open and the drum of a hundred footsteps raced in your direction. Flashes of silver armour passed you right and left until a circle had formed around you, the ensuing chaos sending the citizens of Insomnia into a frenzied panic.
“You came,” you whispered, standing and running to Ardyn just a few feet away. You threw your exhausted body at him and his arms wrapped around you in a comforting embrace, letting his cheek rest atop your head.
“I’m here, my love,” he rasped, pushing you away slightly so he could examine you. “Did they hurt you?”
You simply shook your head, the strong draw of relief and the sound of chaos overwhelming you.
Ardyn looked toward a line of Magitek soldiers standing beside him and nodded in the direction the guards had fled. “Bring them to me.”
Watching them disappear into the crowd, you shuddered. “How did you find me?” You took a deep breath as you watched the crowd scatter. “How did you get in?”
“Don’t worry about that, my dear.” Ardyn took your chin in his hand. “You’re safe.”
You melted into his touch, drowning out the chaos around you. You could hear the distant sound of gunfire and steel on steel. It had started to rain lightly, coating your hair and shirt, leaving you shivering. It wouldn’t take long for them to become overwhelmed, just as you had before; he couldn’t have enough soldiers to stave off a full onslaught from the Citadel.
“Ardyn—” You pleaded as he let go, clutching the sleeve of his coat. “We should go.”
“No,” he said, looking down at you with a placid expression. You could see something ignite within him as the Magitek soldiers made light work of retrieving the guards, tossing them into the circle in front of you on their knees.
“I think it would only be fair to afford them the same mercy they intended to withhold from you.”
You looked between them; it was Regis who should pay, but he would be too heavily guarded.
It was time for Niflheim to send their message.
The guards cowered in front of Ardyn, but before you could take another breath, he raised the whip above his head with reckless enthusiasm, bringing it down and stripping the flesh from the cheeks of the men in one fell swoop.
Blood splattered on your feet as they cried out in pain, both clawing at the gaping wounds on their faces.
You looked up at his wicked grin as he dropped the whip, nodding for the soldiers to move out. They started firing their weapons into the air to scatter the crowd, and in the distance, Insomnian guards were coming to the city’s defence.
“About time,” Ardyn waved a jovial hand. “Keep the casualties to a minimum,” he instructed his soldiers, slowly making their way toward the Citadel. Taking a step toward one of the maimed guards, he put his boot to his chest and kicked him over, letting his body flop pathetically onto the road.
“You’ve made your point,” you stepped in front of him. “Come on.”
“Oh, let me have a little fun, won’t you?” He raised an eyebrow. “Besides, I think the King could stand to learn a lesson or two.”
In the distance, an explosion. Screams. Fireballs launching into the air.
“You brought bombs?” Your eyes darted left and right. The immediate streets were now empty of civilians.
“Oh, no no,” Ardyn chuckled. “They brought this upon themselves.”
Even amongst the anarchy, you felt safe next to him. It had been but a day since your capture and already he’d infiltrated the enemy to garner your rescue. After all, deep down, you knew he wouldn’t abandon you.
Seeing you lost in thought, he turned you away from the violence to focus on him. His hand brushed past your cheek and settled on the back of your neck gently, thumb caressing your cheek.
“I would bring the world to its knees for you,” he said softly, “I won’t let anybody take you from me.” Slowly, he leaned into you, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips.
For a moment you both lingered, the world passing by as you shared a feeling of relief and intimacy. He kissed you with purpose. Possession, yet love.
You looked into his eyes as he leaned away, full of promise, of safety. Taking you by the hand, he summoned two soldiers over.
“Order the retreat,” he commanded, looking at the chaos over his shoulder. “We’re done here.”
Ardyn gently turned your face away from the disorder. “Come,” he said in that irresistible tone. “Let’s go home.”
Reminder that Tom Cardy plays all the music live for DnD podcast Dragon Friends, and has played characters in their main campaign and their side campaign, Gribbit's Detective Agency.
