#ivar thorne

[anderstrevelyan]

Hello, can I introduce you to my veilguard OCs?

Ivar Thorne (née Blackthorne)

(Warden, rogue, I think he'll romance Emmrich)

He doesn't remember the details of his father's ruthless push for power: just how you were supposed to ignore strange sounds at night, or new bones in the crypts. Not ask questions when an older cousin disappears. But he does remember the night the Veil wore too thin: demons and chaos and death, and a young boy's instinct to grab his baby sister and run.

By the time he reaches the city, rumours festering, talk of all the Blackthornes dead, he drops the first part of his surname. He leaves his sister near Compassion spirits in the Grand Necropolis, terrified to tell anyone who he is. He seeks refuge in the Chantry, terrified to tell anyone what he's done.

When he's old enough to set out on his own, he journeys to Amaranthine—to see the Chantry where Andraste first spread the Chant, he'd tell you, but it's conveniently away from Nevarra, too. Eventually recruited by the Wardens there, he learns to fight from Sigrun and Nathaniel Howe, and volunteers for experiments with Warden-Commander Garrett Amell and the mysterious mage Avernus about whether non-mage Wardens can pick up some basics of blood magic. He suspects the latter is why Weisshaupt reassigns him to report there, but he stays in touch with Amell, who introduces him to Varric.

He never stops regretting abandoning his sister, and he regrets more each year his reluctance to write to the Necropolis to try to learn of her fate—so it's a relief and a joy when she joins the team along with their new Fade expert.

(Too shy at first to broach discussing the details with his sister, he finds himself spending time with said Fade expert to ask questions about his own upbringing as an orphan in the place, until he finds more reasons to keep coming back.)

Vita Ingellvar (née Juliana Blackthorne)

(Mourn Watcher, warrior, romances Neve)

Found in a crypt by a Mourn Watcher taking an extra lap in their rounds—the wisps seemed especially active that day—Vita is embraced and adopted by the Mortalitasi. Raised by mages, named for Vitus Fabria (the founder of the Mortalitasi), and often more comfortable with spirits and the undead than other children, she was certain she'd grow up to become a mage, and dreamed of the day her ability would manifest.

It never did, but her determination and affinity with spirits led to her being invited to join the Mourn Watch as soon as she was of age.

She did most of her work alongside a spirit of Valor, whose purpose she admired, but kept finding friction in the Necropolis's focus on appeasing those of lauded lineage, especially as someone with no knowledge of her own roots. She fumed so much that Valor felt it, too, forbidden from bravely standing up to wayward noble undead, and twisted against his purpose into something malign. Inflexibility, Recklessness, Idealism: she's not sure what she'd call what the spirit became, but she was devastated when he had to be destroyed by the Watch.

Devastated, but determined to finish their work and stop the nobles' uprising no matter the cost—she only regrets that she didn't disobey sooner.

The Watch encourages her to leave alongside Prof. Volkarin, and she's startled to see so much of herself in this group's leader's face. For the first time, she's curious about piecing together who she was and could have been. (And about the beautiful detective all the wisps seem enamoured with, too.)

[liaa--qb]

your unpopular opinion about team green from fnb and hotd series??? Wanna know

unpopular opinion on team green.....😑

I would say my simple complaint from writer. I am not against or hater of the show. FNB wasn't any good itself. But if I talk about characters honestly to me, greens wasn't any good (same with team black) in book both were 2d but greens actually had potential to be very interesting.

"Like writers seriously got mini version of Paul Atreides n Jessica, Borgias family , Ivar the boneless, prince Jorg ancrath and Prince Jalan Kendeth from Prince of thorns and prince of fools books n the riot club drama among the green family so well still.....how can they not write them really good ? "

Like material is right there infront of them already way better written and explored😭 they just have to mix all these correctly according to their plot at right time. How can they miss it so bad ?😫😵

I can tell so many books too and characters from which they could have taken inspiration for Aegon, Alicent , Aemond 😭🤦🏻‍♀️ that would fit so good if they wanted to do some changes and add something extraa for these characters. I don't get how can they be sooo.... Lazy

Believe me when I say team greens could have been really interesting in the show to watch if writers actually wanted to write something excellent. But it just looks like to me that they don't......😒🤷🏻‍♀️ I can't say honestly

[tvertimot]

Tvertimot Masterlist

The Vikings

Roses and Thornes - Ubbe x OC modern AU (unfinished; currently on hold)

Prologue, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Adopting a child with Ivar - Ivar x Reader

Telling Ivar you’re pregnant - Ivar x Rader

Reader’s first raid - Hvitserk x Reader

Marrying Halfdan - Halfdan x Reader

Part 1 Part 2

Lord of the Rings

Deep down - Eomer x OC (in progress)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 ,8(soon)

You can also visit my Wattpad

[hiddcnhorizcns]

@justsurv1vor

the cold, briny air whipped through the longhouse, carrying with it the scent of the sea and the promise of conquest. the flickering light of the fire cast dancing shadows on the wooden walls, illuminating the hardened faces of erik's most trusted men. they gathered around a large oak table, its surface etched with scars from past battles and laden with maps of distant lands. chieftain of the northmen, erik stood at the head, his gaze fixed upon the parchment spread before them. bjorn, erik's right-hand man, his braided beard glistening with beads of sea salt, leaned forward. "the saxons to the south grow complacent, erik. their villages are ripe for the taking, and their riches would fill our coffers." a murmur of agreement rippled through the room. the saxons had long been a thorn in their side, their fertile lands and wealthy settlements a tantalizing prize just beyond their reach. but erik was not convinced yet. "true, bjorn," he replied, his fingers tracing the outline of the southern shores on the map. "but we must also consider the lands to the east. the slavic tribes have been fractured by infighting. they are weakened, disorganized. if we strike now, we could claim their territories with minimal resistance."

their reunion was cut short by the sudden clamor of heavy footsteps and the creak of the longhouse door being flung open. the firelight flickered wildly as one of his warriors, ivar, burst in, dragging a captive behind him. the harsh grip he had on her wrists betrayed the urgency of his mission, and for a moment, anger flared within erik at the interruption. "erik!" ivar's voice was breathless, his excitement barely contained. "we found her skulking near the outskirts of the village." he pushed the captive forward, a fine young lady whose hands were bound with rough rope. her cloak was mud-stained, but beneath the grime, her bearing was noble. erik recognized her immediately, and the half-formed shout of reprimand died in his throat. it was the daughter of an ealdorman, a formidable saxon leader and one of their most persistent foes. erik had lost one of his warriors at the ealdorman's hands, and received his head days later in a chest, and erik has been plotting ever since just how to seek his retribution. the longhouse fell into a tense silence, every eye fixed on the captive.

his gaze shifted to ivar, who still held the girl with a rough grip. a mocking smile curled erik's lips, and he allowed a note of chastisement to seep into his voice. "ivar," erik said, his tone dripping with mockery, "is this how we treat such an esteemed guest? have you forgotten all your manners?" ivar's eyes widened, a flicker of confusion crossing his face before he quickly released her. he took a step back, his posture stiff and uncertain. the other men watched with rapt attention as erik began to move, each step deliberate and slow, until he stood face to face with the girl. "leave us," erik commanded, his voice ringing with authority. "every one of you." there was a moment of hesitation, a flicker of uncertainty among his warriors. bjorn glanced at erik, his brow furrowed, but a slight nod from him quelled any protest. reluctantly, they began to file out of the longhouse, their heavy footfalls echoing in the silence. the door creaked as it closed behind the last of them, leaving her and erik alone in the dimly lit room. erik's smirk widened, satisfaction evident as he let the silence stretch, his intense gaze burning into her.

[not-that-syndrigast]

Vikings ask who is hvitserk favourite brother

Oh i love the idea, so normal setting and modern au for the fun of it.

Vikings era

He pretty much likes Ubbe the most i the early seaons, Sigurd knows and doesn't care but Ivar is thorn between thinking that Hvitserk likes him most or wanting Hvitserk to like him most. He like Hvitserk, obviously but he is also not stupid, he knows that Hvitserk sometimes dislikes him but he ignores it. In later seasons Hvitserk doesn't even know anymore, Ivar killed his girlfriend, Ubbe nearly let him be killed, its all confusing for the poor guy, but in the end-end, Ivar maybe took over Ubbes place as favorite brother.

Modern au

Ubbe, straight up. He has his moments with Sigurd and definitely has alot of moments with Ivar, possibly even some great ones but Ivar is fucking crazy and killed his childhood dog, Hvitserk is a bit scared of him, okay?

[jplupine]

✍🌕~𝕷𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝕱𝖎𝖈 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙~✍🌕

✔ = Completed  ❌ = Ongoing | Fandom: Title: Character

🐾 Live Action 🐾

Agents of SHIELD: Magnificent Trio: Leo Fitz // ❌

Being Human: Only Half Human: Tom McNair // ✔

Black Sails: Pirate’s Life for Me: Captain Charles Vane // ✔

Buffy: Unknown Factors: William ‘Spike’ Pratt // ✔

Unknown Future: William ‘Spike’ Pratt // ❌

Cursed: In the Wolf’s Den: The Weeping Monk // ❌

DC Legends of Tomorrow: Therian: Mick Rory // ❌

Dark Angel: Trial X6: Alec McDowell // ✔

Lost Girl: To Vexing Love: Vex the Mesmer // ❌

Lucifer: Kneel: Lucifer Morningstar // ✔

Predators: Leila of the (Series): Book #1 ✔ // Book #2 ✔ // Book #3 ✔ // Book #4 ✔ // Book #5 ✔ // Book #6 ❌

Teen Wolf: Hunter’s Moon: Derek Hale // ❌

The 100: Coming Back Down: King Roan // ✔

The Almighty Johnsons: Embers: Ty Johnson // ✔

The Gates: It’s Miki: Brett Crezski // ✔

Transformers: Bombus: Bumblebee/B-127 // ✔

True Blood: Bound in Blood: Eric Northman // ❌

Vikings: Eyes of Fire: Ivar Ragnarson // ❌

Winx: Wings of Ash: Riven // ✔

🐾 Anime/Animated 🐾

Bleach Masterlist

Dance with Devils: Guard Dog: Mage Nanashiro // ✔

Devilman Crybaby: Even in the Next Life: Akira Fudo // ✔

Dorohedoro: Fox Magick: Kaiman & Risu // ❌

Fate Stay/Night: Bone of my Bow: Archer/Emiya // ✔

Haikyuu!! Masterlist

Kuroko no Baske: A Tasty Treat: Atsushi Murasakibara // ✔

Flower’s Thorn: Daiki Aomine // ✔

Mushishi: Healer’s Tail: Ginko // ❌

Naruto Masterlist

OHSHC: The Transfer Student: Takashi Morinozuka // ✔

Shingeki no Bahamut: To Be Human: Azazel // ✔

Shokugeki no Soma: Silver Sakura: Ryo Kurokiba // ❌

Silver Spoon: Gin-Shoujo: Ichiro Komaba // ✔

🐾 Comics/Books 🐾

Lookism: Quiet Little Child: Jay Yeol // ❌

Tiny Terror: Vasco // ❌

Trash Panda: Zack Lee // ❌ 

[its-monster-mash]

This has been sitting in my drafts for 1000 years oops Rules: Post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it.

Thank you so much for tagging me @venus-haze!! I am also excited to participate in the self-callout lol

I don’t actually have a “WIP Folder”, I just have. A lot of WIPs. About to expose myself on a lot of different fandoms lol(I have a million different sideblogs that I organize a lot of the things I like by)

• Didn’t Your Momma Ever Tell You Not to Talk to Strangers? — Bo Sinclair x Reader (House of Wax) *I am also converting this one to an "Original" piece so I can publish it as a serial, so if you see the other version on Amazon under the pen name "M.E. Roselli" that's me. I'm still going to keep writing it as this fanfic, but there IS an alternate version. The other version is about a cult instead of Wax; instead of Vincent, Bo("Buck" in the alternate version) has a twin sister who was raised to be the cult's messiah. The cult is dead and gone along with their parents, but she's still living it. I just know that a lot of people's fanfics are being stolen, so I wanted to clear up that that is NOT the case with mine.

• Holmes and Dracula VS. Jack the Ripper — Original Work (Sherlock Holmes and Dracula team up to stop Jack the Ripper from bringing about the Apocalypse)

• Tides of Lust — Original Work (Meliora, a traveling bard with demonic blood, goes on a pirate adventure with a feared disciple of Davy Jones and also meets a Vampiric Warlord)

• What The Dead Men Say — Original Work (Ivar Ragnarsson ends up in Victorian England, where he has little choice but to team up with an archeologist; was technically an ACV fic originally, but I hate the ISU stuff and refuse to include it so really it’s just a history fic tbh)

• Playing House with Private X — Original Work (A cryogenically frozen super soldier navigates the modern world with the help of a would-be super soldier who slipped through the cracks. Very slice of life; it started as a Soldier Boy fic—American Pie, but I scrubbed it of IP so I can continue it as an original work and publish it as erotic shorts)

• ‘Til Death Do Us Part — Original Work (Would-be Murder victim Judith “Jude” Carpenter tries to start a new life in a small town…where her would have been killer has taken up residence as the priest. The two must work together to survive the town’s dark secret.)

• Careful What you Wish For — Original Work (Janie, a serial killer hitchhiking to avoid capture, ends up being held prisoner by Levi, a recluse out in the middle of nowhere, and she pretends to be a helpless victim in exchange for food and a warm place to sleep. The story focuses on her disturbing inner monologue through her act.)

• Lord of Roses, Master of Thorns — Original Work (Ancient Vampiric King Alistair Val Mirron must fall in love to end his curse of immortality; Myrinthe, an odd Peasant introduced to him by and old flame, seeks to remain in the castle at all costs to avoid being forced to marry the annoying rich boy in town.)

• Taken From the Ren Faire — Original Work (This was meant to be a cheesy erotica short but I accidentally gave it a plot. Oops. Fantasy Author Vera Fox is spirited away into a fantasy world after drinking some strange mead from an interesting new vendor. She ends up in a fake relationship with a former bandit while he tries to help get her home; when they get separated, she questions if she even wants to go back to her old life, and this is only compounded when she finds her Ren Faire lover is trapped there too. This one is full of tropes because I'll be honest, I'm "Writing to Market" here, but I love the characters anyway. Owen-her Ren Faire lover- has a huge Clydesdale named Stormbreaker that he rescued from a roadside medieval themed attraction, and I love him.)

• A Marriage of Inconvenience — Homelander x Reader (The Boys; Amazon Show)

• Woven Sagas — Eivor Wolfkissed x Ivar Ragnarsson (Assassin’s Creed Valhalla)

• Mother — Skyrim Fic about my Dragonborn raising Aventus

• Critical Darling — Homelander x OC(Darcy Hayes, Dreamweaver) (The Boys; Amazon Show)

• In All My Dreams I Drown — Reaver x Sparrow (Fable 2)

Tags: I am abysmal at remembering URLs off the top of my head, but I will try. @sketchy-rosewitch @visceravalentines @rottent33th @ventiswampwater

[thequeendomhq]

NAME. Anfisa ( Juneau ) AGE & BIRTH DATE. 24 & March 28th, 3000 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Cis Female & She/Her NATIONALITY. Iskaran SPECIES. Vuldak FACTION. Thieves Guild OCCUPATION. Refugee Guide & Thief FACE CLAIM. Sophie Thatcher

biography

( tw: suicidal ideation, death, violence )

The woods were a part of her from birth, even before they became a hiding place and tool of her trade. It was said in her childhood that she’d been born with dirt under her fingernails and stained soles of her feet. When sent to the well, she’d return caked in soot and mud, a pail full of glistening specimens of druzy and reflective minerals rather than a drop of water. However, nothing illuminated her eyes like that boudary-less expanse of blue stretching out between the coast of Iskaldrik and the impossibly small, impossibly far bar of land across the waters–Lysara. It was true, she had been a difficult child to rear with an insatiable curiosity and orneriness the other townsfolk claimed they had never seen the likes of before. The expression “it takes a village” somehow fell short of the challenges of raising her, her heels dug in at every possible juncture and her mind made up that things would go her way. Still, her headstrong ways in her youth never caused many legitimate issues.

While she did not cause significant conflict within the village, few and far between were her close connections. Fate may have proven kinder if she had the backing of her village, but loathe were the villagers to stick their necks out to save anyone from the mines, least of all a perpetual thorn in their sides. Many suspected what she was before even she did, they whispered about her surly nature, how she lingered toward the edges of the forest without fear of predators, recalled the stories she had told as a very small child about the mangy dogs she had met off the well-worn foot trails when her wayward nature told her to follow the deer trails instead. She had gone missing for four days once and came back no worse for wear. But back then all of it was talk, until the first time the full moon revealed the entire truth. 

No one would save her from the mine, but no one seemed brave enough to send her there on their own either. Summoning help felt too risky, too far away, and so they drove her out themselves. It was a bitter feeling, it soured her against them. With few other bonds to think of, the better option felt like trying her lot at making it on her own. The only time her belly was full was when she managed a kill on her own or managed to steal from an unsuspecting traveler. She avoided towns, even when the moon had waxed away to its thinnest form. It wasn’t worth the risk. No one was worth the risk. 

Until she met him. He was different. But he was the same. 

Ivar had felt more human to her when she first met him than she had ever thought herself, but he swore that he, too, was a werewolf. His knowledge proved invaluable, and for the first time in her life, she took heed and listened. He taught her everything he knew, from the safest, most remote areas of the wood to how to minimize the carnage she was capable of instilling under the full moon. It didn’t take much long for her to figure out it wasn’t a longstanding apathy for a company that resulted in her having no bonds with others, it was the desire for a pack. As soon as she realized this, she was asked, “If I could ferry you to Lysara, would you go?” 

She would go, but she wouldn’t leave Ivar. Just as he had taught her how to survive as a werewolf, he taught her the best way to ensure the survival of others. Through recognizing landmarks and following the stars, he taught her the way to Lysara. She learned quickly which outcrops provided coverage, which paths were most seldom used by common humans, and how to defend herself if it came to it. Under his tutelage, she thrived. She became more herself and gained clarity rather than being plagued by the deafening, confusing instincts that had once consumed her. 

For a decade or so, the pair harbored refugees through the most unforgiving of terrains, through the blistering winds of mountain passes, toward the promise of Lysara. As time went on, her patience and trust in humans dwindled even though she seldom encountered them. The world of humans narrowed down to nothing more than the vague definition of a threat. This made it easier for her to cheat them, steal from them, and if the situation called for it, to cut them down. 

And it brought her closer to him. Until it took him away. 

It was unclear how long the humans had been tracking them, or it was simply a fluke that their camp was found. He had told her once that he knew places so remote even the witchers were afraid to set foot there. So grand were his stories of safety, so secure in his decision-making, so confident, that it never came to her mind to question him when he sent her ahead. To her, it was to reach the next wary soul they’d deliver to safety in Lysara, but he knew it was toward certain death. 

Were she not blinded by her love and loyalty for him, she would have questioned his directive to be so close to humans alone, and under the full moon.  Even after they cornered her, tormented her, impaled her with their daggers and sticks, hurled rocks at her, and tormented her to what they suspected, and in any other case, would have been death, she did not think to question him. Hadn’t he heard her wailing in the night? Couldn’t he sense her terror and panic through that invisible string that bound them? 

The string severed, but her connection to life did not. Foolish country folk–they knew how to slaughter, but not how to kill. She arose from the carcass of her familiar form, her death undone, but she did not understand. Ivar had not taught her everything, he hadn’t taught her about how werewolves truly die, and he hadn’t taught her that he was just as untrustworthy as any given human.

Convinced he would come for her, she collected herself. She credited the gnawing hunger in her belly and the restlessness in her bones as the feeling of hurt and separation from NAME. He would find her, he would come for her, if she just made it back to those rugged, familiar peaks. And so she did. 

There was a spot, just below the treelines, familiar to her and once sacred to the pair. She lay beneath it, closing her eyes against the too-bright dappled light that passed along with the sun through the leaves of the towering pine. She felt the cool breeze skim over her body, cooling until it was a crisp chill and she opened her eyes to the light of a just-waning moon. She did not sleep. And he did not come. And he did not come. And he did not come.

Perhaps too fragile to admit, he would never come, she refused to move on from that spot. Days passed and her energy drained. There was nothing in her that could move her to rise from her spot. If the farmers were too weak to sever her from this world, fine, she would lay here until the moss and forest consumed her–without NAME it was as good a fate as any other. She could name a precious few as blessed as she was to select her own grave on her terms. Let the forest that made her reclaim her. She would wait. 

But still, death did not come. At least, not to her. On the thirteenth day, she sensed the smell of smoke. Happy enough to let the world burn around her, she realized that the smell of ash and flame had traveled far–much farther than she would have been able to have sensed before–the watchtowers. A warning. 

Spurred on more by an unignorable instinct to survive than the conscious will to do so, she found a band of humans large enough to allow her anonymity. “If I could ferry you to Lysara, would you go?” Perhaps Lysara could be kinder to her than he ever was. Should she find him there, though, he would never know kindness again. 

personality

+ cunning, resourceful, impartial – mercurial, nihilistic, vengeful

played by payton. mst. she/her.

[realife-mermaid]

okay this is here for me (but if you want to ask about a character you can 🥺👉🏼👈🏼), i’m trying to keep track of the stuff i’ve put in my tags bc some of it actually Is there for more than aesthetic reasons haha so i’m gonna keep track of the names i’ve tagged on here and also simplifying to just “c: character name” so i fucking remember how i tag everyone akskd

regular text means it’s been changed, red means it hasn’t been and it’s still floating in the ether

TAMINA AND THE TERRIBLE HORRIBLE NO GOOD VERY BAD DAY -> i think i'm just tagging literally everything that goes in my "main" universe as "the poisoned obsidian" instead of doing separate tags for separate stories within it because i never remember my own tags and there's so much crossover between characters.

MAIN POISONED OBSIDIAN CHARACTERS

c: tahmina vasquez

c: charles donnelly

c: matthias - this bitch needs a last name or an epithet or something damn

c: nia thorne - i don't think i have her on here by another name but

c: beck vida

c: evangeline de la heina

c: marty vida

c: isadora da rosa

c: leo vida

c: lilith - may tag her by a different name, settling on "nokomis all-mother" but i DO worry this falls into cultural weirdness (it is generally an igbo or ojibwe name and she is not either? but she also didn't like, name herself, and EYE am indigenous so. i'm still debating).

c: xan the scourge

c: morgwaine - also getting a last name or epithet

c: nyx the eternal

c: iggy the bloody - the way i have tagged her like 50 different things lmao

c: kephas the wanderer; c: peter the old bear (i'm gonna choose a different animal, haven't decided yet)

c: captain irayz santos

c: nicos blue

c: einar nemean - the thing is i'm thinking of combining him with nicos so he's floating free for now

c: inara khoji - her name was originally "indira" but that was always a placeholder name. did a lil more research and settled on inara.

c: reagan the redeemer

c: veruca lightseeker

c: elyse nightbridge

c: valentin of the light

i'm missing most of the witchmark characters here so althea, del, ynez, etc etc if you see anything entitled "generic fantasy universe" or "witches caused climate change" I'LL GET THERE

HISTORICAL POISONED OBSIDIAN CHARACTERS

c: sigthorn - i'm adding an epithet to the group he lives with, the way i do the obsidian isle but i'm unsure of what to call it. i was calling it the "iron atoll" until i realized i was just jacking the iron islands from asoiaf lmao (absolutely no relation to the greyjoys tho)

c: ivar

c: isabella de la heina

c: nicolias - needs an epithet, probably the same as sigthorn's

c: micah blood-eye

NO GAYS WERE HARMED IN THE MAKING OF THIS NOVEL -> also poisoned obsidian but these bitches need epithets so no one has been changed yet

c: lieke

c: luka

c: aneurin

MY BEST FRIEND DIED AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS STUPID T-SHIRT -> the title of the book is not changing because i think it's hilarious but it turned into a whole series (the medical/romance one) so it's being tagged as "recovering romantics anonymous" to shift the focus onto the support group the main characters all go to.

c: thalia massi (might change last name, undecided)

c: alec ruiz dubois

c: gabriella ruiz dubois

c: mary stevens ochoa

c: rocio acosta

c: cheyenne lipnicki

c: alva karla alvarez

c: hadley alvarez

BORDERTOWN BLUES -> this is not changing, just the character tagging is different now so its-

c: Lani Kealoha Lange

c: KJ Toussey

c: Key Toussey

[artemiseamoon]

This new pic! Okay dayum Kat 💜😍 also this is sooo Valentina coded. Still one of my fav indulgent vampy fics I wrote.

[marwolaeth1993]

New on Tumblr, not new on fanfiction.net and Ao3. I'm Marwolaeth1993, a 30 year old fanfic writer. I'm ace and bigenderfluid, preferring the pronouns they and them. I started writing the witcher fanfics about three years ago, have posted a few on ao3 under my pennane Marwolaeth1993 and I'm working on several more. I'm inspired by inexplicifics, who wrote the witcher AU, The Accidental Warlord and his Pack (AWAU) and Must Brave the Thorns (MBTT) She is an amazing writer and lets me and others play around with her AU, she incourages us actually. So I wrote Growing like a weed, Inspired by AWAU, which I will post here as well. Most of my works are NSFW. Really just smutt with maybe a hint of plot, like Ineffable witchers and their mortal and Getting inside you, both fics are pwp. If you stumble on this post go check me out on ao3, just please ignore the HP fics, they have been on hiatus for close to 10 or more years, I lost the urge to write for a very long time and they're not my best works.

Anyway I'm new on Tumblr so still figuring out the rules and not sure if NSFW content is allowed, if it is I'll be posting some smutty plunnies and snippets from my newer, unpublished works:

Red Cubs; inspired by Must Brave the Thorns by Inexplicifics

Hidden Alpha; inspired by AWAU by Inexplicifics

A warriors Journey, inspired by AWAU by Inexplicifics

A witcher's brother, inspired by AWAU by Inexplicifics

The Elven Mage, inspired by AWAU by Inexplicifics

A kittens father, inspired by AWAU by Inexplicifics

Ivar and his Lady, inspired by AWAU by Inexplicifics and the AWAU discord server

Welp that's it for a first post, follow me or not, I'm going to keep posting my ideas and will write whatever strikes me up the head and comes out of the plunny factory. I blame the AWAU discord server for most of my works.

[anderstrevelyan]

I've reached the point where I can make an OC that's carefully folded into the game's existing lore, and this delights me: hello Ivar (Black)thorne

[nukyster-blog]

Avalanche

Song for inspiration 

.-.-.

The mountain was hidden underneath a deadly snow-white brilliance, not even the animals were brave enough to leave their shelters. The ice kissed air came with a great snowfall that soon gave-way to a blizzard, as if the sky bursted open.

The stillness in the white landscape was beautiful, peaceful. Unblemished by the human touch; because who would be so foolish to go up the mountain and taunt the Gods?

Well, Ivar was, although he’d rather call himself stubborn as a mule, instead of a fool. 

His presence was a thorn in the eye for Skadi: Goddess of Snow, Winter and Mountains. 

Ivar was aware of his audacious move; for the wind chilled him to the bone and more than once made him tumble down a good few feet. 

By now his leather gloves were clumps of ice, the fabric spun around his fingers soaked and freezing. 

Yet, in this cold was still a humble flame, rage, the furnace and the fuel Ivar lived by. It was what had kept him going; all throughout his life he had one mantra he clung to: the cripple would show them, show them all. 

And he would, Ivar the boneless; the baby who shouldn’t have survived his first night.

  Ivar the boneless; the boy who shouldn’t have taken one step. Ivar the boneless; the young man who endured, survived and overcame his handicap. 

Oh, and he would show them all alright.

Through gritted teeth came a low aggravated hiss when his sledge got stuck behind a branche again. Crawling back he yanked the sledge loose, taking a moment to catch his breath.

Twenty-four-thousand, he’d counted to twenty-four-thousand. One hand in front of the other, from one till twenty-four-thousand. That should be high enough. 

Redirecting his route, Ivar scanned the white scenery, from the line of white trees up to the mountain, to the other line of white trees, about six hundred feet across. “One, two, three…” He counted out loud to keep his blue lips moving, “...two-hundred-eighty nine, three hundred…” 

Craning his head back Ivar narrowed his eyes to crinkled slits; fog had settled atop of the mountain as a sinister curtain. 

His heart was like a drum; as realization sank in; the snow could be his deathbed. 

With his canines he tore the leather gloves off and untangled the fabrics. He needed both hands.

Crawling atop of the sledge Ivar grabbed the edge with numbed fingers and closed his eyes.

He screamed in rage. And there was something more in that scream; a pain behind all the anger. All of this, the constant rage; dislike of authority, his short temper; it was nothing but a shield for the pain. The constand seclusion, the overall loneliness. And never being treated as an equal. He was always kneeling beneath them. Ivar the boneless; would never be a man. 

The scream came forced from his mouth and lungs, but it bled from his ego, from deeply within. His pain echoed between the lines of trees, trailing upwards, crossing the fog until heading towards his goal.

With a crack mightier than thunder, the snow-pack up high split into two. The part cut-loose began to move, accelerating with every scream. 

In seconds Ivar’s sledge was picked up by a rolling frigid white sea of snow. For moments he was nothing more than a leaf in the wind. And yet he still screamed; because by the Gods, let those bastards hear him roar. Let them know that their downfall was by the hands of the cripple.

The army below the mountain heared the cracking of violence coming their way, an avalanche wiping through the forest. As a colossus hand it grabbed everything and everyone in its way. Although some manage to get on their horse or get onto their feet, it was too late. The frigid white took them all down, one by one. Tent by tent. Man by man. 

Throughout all the screams of terror there was a laugh; manic and thrilled beyond joy. One that did not fear death, because revenge overcame him. 

Ivar victored, thanking the Goddess Skadi and welcoming her ice-cold embrace. Packing in layers and layers of snow the pain stopped. Unable to move, to breath, to see, Ivar found peace; Valhalla awaited him. 

.-.-.

Snow flew in shimmering arcs by the shovels, the hole grew larger at their feet. Ubbe, Hvitzerk and Sigurd stood motionless at the silhouette of their youngest brother slowly being resurrected from the frigid snow. It had been his sledge guiding them to his icy grave, the wooden sledge had been tied to his wrist by a long rope; as a lifeline. 

Glacier eyes rolled skywards, struggling to focus until they saw the brothers stand and stare. Raised from the dead Ivar arched a sly brow and through blueish chapped lips he whispered: “Told you I could do it, didn’t I?”

.-.-.

A/N: This whole ‘Ivar killing people with his voice’ has been in my mind for a while now. I figured #norsetalesforwinter would be a perfect reason to finally write it down. I hope you enjoyed reading this prompt as much as I did writing it, happy holidays!

Xoxoxo Nukyster 

[hiddcnhorizcns]

open to: f

muse: erik thorvaldsson, 25 years old, viking chieftain ; bio

the cold, briny air whipped through the longhouse, carrying with it the scent of the sea and the promise of conquest. the flickering light of the fire cast dancing shadows on the wooden walls, illuminating the hardened faces of erik's most trusted men. they gathered around a large oak table, its surface etched with scars from past battles and laden with maps of distant lands. chieftain of the northmen, erik stood at the head, his gaze fixed upon the parchment spread before them. bjorn, erik's right-hand man, his braided beard glistening with beads of sea salt, leaned forward. "the saxons to the south grow complacent, erik. their villages are ripe for the taking, and their riches would fill our coffers." a murmur of agreement rippled through the room. the saxons had long been a thorn in their side, their fertile lands and wealthy settlements a tantalizing prize just beyond their reach. but erik was not convinced yet. "true, bjorn," he replied, his fingers tracing the outline of the southern shores on the map. "but we must also consider the lands to the east. the slavic tribes have been fractured by infighting. they are weakened, disorganized. if we strike now, we could claim their territories with minimal resistance."

their reunion was cut short by the sudden clamor of heavy footsteps and the creak of the longhouse door being flung open. the firelight flickered wildly as one of his warriors, ivar, burst in, dragging a captive behind him. the harsh grip he had on her wrists betrayed the urgency of his mission, and for a moment, anger flared within erik at the interruption. "erik!" ivar's voice was breathless, his excitement barely contained. "we found her skulking near the outskirts of the village." he pushed the captive forward, a fine young lady whose hands were bound with rough rope. her cloak was mud-stained, but beneath the grime, her bearing was noble. erik recognized her immediately, and the half-formed shout of reprimand died in his throat. it was the daughter of an ealdorman, a formidable saxon leader and one of their most persistent foes. erik had lost one of his warriors at the ealdorman's hands, and received his head days later in a chest, and erik has been plotting ever since just how to seek his retribution. the longhouse fell into a tense silence, every eye fixed on the captive.

his gaze shifted to ivar, who still held the girl with a rough grip. a mocking smile curled erik's lips, and he allowed a note of chastisement to seep into his voice. "ivar," erik said, his tone dripping with mockery, "is this how we treat such an esteemed guest? have you forgotten all your manners?" ivar's eyes widened, a flicker of confusion crossing his face before he quickly released her. he took a step back, his posture stiff and uncertain. the other men watched with rapt attention as erik began to move, each step deliberate and slow, until he stood face to face with the girl. "leave us," erik commanded, his voice ringing with authority. "every one of you." there was a moment of hesitation, a flicker of uncertainty among his warriors. bjorn glanced at erik, his brow furrowed, but a slight nod from him quelled any protest. reluctantly, they began to file out of the longhouse, their heavy footfalls echoing in the silence. the door creaked as it closed behind the last of them, leaving her and erik alone in the dimly lit room. erik's smirk widened, satisfaction evident as he let the silence stretch, his intense gaze burning into her.

[barnes-lothbrok]

Dance with me

Ivar x reader

Summary - As everyone is celebrating the recent raids. Ivar watches his wife.

Warnings - implied smut, swears, fluff

Word count - 1k

A/n - Honestly not sure what this is. It was meant to be a cute fluff idea and turned into this.

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Song and merriment filled the air as the fire in the heath burned. While the snow fell outside, the hall was filled with joy as  the summer raids were celebrated and praise was given to the gods for the bounty the summer had brought them. 

Kattagat was set for the winter months. This year's crops and raids had ensured that the town and surrounding villages wouldn't starve over the coming freeze. 

Ivar sat on his throne, nursing a cup of mead as he watched the celebrations around him. His people were happy, that should have made him happy too but his gut held a bitter feeling. 

While people fucked in corners and songs were sung loudly, his blue eyes were trained on his wife. 

You had the biggest smile on your face as you sang the latest song, with Hvitserk's arm over your shoulders and cheek pressed against his as you both sang completely out of tune. 

"You sound like dying goats" Ubbe teased the pair of you when the song ended. 

You flipped him off. "Fuck you! We are amazing! The best in all the land" 

You defended yours and Hvitserk awful singing before breaking into giggles when Hvitserk sang an unrecognisable tune as if to prove the point. 

"Gods, Hvitty! Ubbe maybe right" you laughed and patted his shoulder. 

"Whatever do you mean? I have the voice of a siren" Hvitserk sang again, right in your ear to which you shoved him playfully away. 

After a few more rounds of ale, people began to boo your duet. You slammed your cup down on the table and climbed on top. 

"Who dares to boo at their queen!" You roared, with a face of pure rage. 

The hall fell silent for a moment and Ivar moved forward in his chair. For the first time that evening he looked excited. 

You were his killer queen. A shield maiden with legend that could almost reveal Lagertha's. Having grown up around the Ragnarsons, it was no surprise that Ivar chose you as his queen. When you wanted to be, you could be just as deadly as he was. 

You were his rose. Beautiful and sweet but you had your thorns. 

The only sound that could be heard was the crackling of the fire and a few moans from dark corners. There was an air of suspense before you burst out laughing. 

"Wow, that was incredible!" You laughed manically, holding your stomach as you doubled over in laughter. "I'm not going to kill anyone while we are celebrating. I was merely going to suggest I dance instead" 

There was a collective sigh of relief as Ivar pouted and slumped back in his chair. Watching his wife kill would have made the festival more fun. 

"Sigurd! Dear brother-in-law of mine!" You yelled "Give us your best tune" 

Sigurd's band began to play and with a shout of "May we blessed another year! SKÁL!" from you, the party was back under way. 

You danced with Hvitserk on the table, having your own little dance battle throwing the oddest movements at each other before waltzing along it. 

He dripped you in front of Ivar, who's upside down face held a deep frown. His head rested in his hand as he looked completely unimpressed.

"Looks like someone needs a smile" Hvitserk smirked as he whispered in your ear. 

You nodded and approached your husband,  gently placing yourself in his lap. You cupped his cheeks as he scowled at you. 

"Having fun without me, wife?" He said bitterly.

"Not as much as I have with you" you replied before gently squishing his cheeks and kissing his pouted lips. 

A small smile broke his frown as he pulled you in for more. He tasted of the mead he'd been drinking. You pulled away as it became more heated and rested your head against his.

It wasn't for the fact that there were people around, you didn't care for that. Many festivals had seen the king and queen almost fucking on the throne. Ivar never let it get further than making out, your pleasure was for his eyes only. 

"Let's go to our room" Ivar whispered but you shook your head

"Dance with me" you said breathlessly as though he'd stolen the air from your lungs with the kiss. 

He suddenly pulled back and stared at you. "Are you trying to make a fool of me?" He frowned. 

Never had you asked him to dance, you knew full well there were things his legs didn't allow him to do. 

"No" you snapped back quickly "no, of course I'm not" your tone softer. 

"Then why ask of me something I can not give?" 

"Just trust me" you looked him in the eyes. You had a plan that much was clear and he would trust you with his life. You had saved it many times. 

He studied your face before nodding as you slowly moved off his lap and held out a hand to him. 

You waited as he picked up his crutch and limped down the throne steps to join you in a clear space. He swallowed as he felt eyes in him but you kept him looking at you with an encouraging smile. 

Sigurd changed the song, as if you had planned for this, while you gently held his arm above you before twirling around and circled him like prey. 

As he was beginning to feel stupid for just standing there, you span into him and whispered "see you are dancing with me" 

It was then he realised you were using his body to dance on. It may not have been the same as other couples danced but as your body swayed against his, your arms around his neck with his hands rested on your hips, he couldn't help the broad smile on his face. 

[inexplicifics]

I'm sorry if this has alread been asked I haven kept up with the blog but I just read the VLT and had a question about Serrit. Is she still trans and if so how did she end up coming out and transitioning in a world where she didn't have Yen's Transformation magic to give her that last push?

Serrit is trans in Must Brave the Thorns, but I don't get any credit for it, because it's not going to show up on screen. She transitioned well before Milena showed up, so Lambert and Aiden don't really think about it, and Milena doesn't bathe at the same time she does, and therefore won't notice.

I think Serrit probably takes fantasy-estrogen, brewed either by the Viper alchemists or by Triss.

She, like a lot of the wolfblood, is actually rather less Traumatized and Generally Mistreated than the witchers are either in canon or in the AW AU pre-Warlord, and there are female wolfblood, so her realization came a lot earlier, and she basically went to Ivar and said, "Hey, this is a thing I want, can you make it happen?" and Ivar said "Yes, of course." Honestly, I think she may have transitioned even before the wolfblood came together under Geralt's leadership.