#ivarr what are you

[baker-from-seheron]

favorite asshat

(drawing from 2 years ago)

[synindoodles]

— The Tale of Ragnar Lothbrok — An illustrated, handwritten book project I did for university - it tells the story of Ragnar as a legendary viking figure but also of those that were later associated and mixed with the original myth, such as Reginherus, Ragnall Ua Ímairr and Ragnar's famous sons according to legend aka Ivarr The Boneless, Bjorn Ironside, Halfdan "Hvítserk" Ragnarsson and Sigurd Snake-In-The-Eye. I did, however, mix history and myth with History Vikings' depiction of some of these characters, though what is written in each page is based on several articles I found about these people and not in the show's version of them. I'll be posting the rest of these sections separately in the coming weeks so you can also see each drawing in HQ 🤭

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Gray 2

First / Previous / Next

"Next!"

The voice called out gruffly, and the line shuffled forward another step. Little by little, bit by bit, the line moved though customs as people tried to get into the station. Finally, they came upon a human, average height for the species, with dirty blond hair cropped short on the top of their head, wearing careworn clothes. He was carrying a large bag over his shoulder, and set it down as he approached the counter.

"Name." It was not a question.

"Gord Beaverbrook."

"Planet of origin?" The agent was bored and only half paying attention as they scanned the human's passport card.

"Earth."

At that, they looked up sharply. "Lying to an immigration officer comes with immediate expulsion. I must have misheard you. Planet of origin?"

The human's eyes widened slightly. The immigration officer - a Tylan - didn't notice the subtle change in body language. "Oh uh, my mistake. Orbital High Parvati."

They looked down at the passport card and grunted. "Colony Worlds eh? Leaving like the rest?"

"Something like that, yes."

One of their eyes flicked up to the human and stared just a moment longer than was comfortable. "Final destination?"

"Wait friend, is that required? Last time I came through, they just wanted to know where I came from and how long I was in town, not where I was going." The human looked back at the line and smiled - with his mouth shut - apologetically.

"Sapient, that has been the requirement the entire time I have worked here. If you are unwilling to divulge-"

"No no, it's fine. I've held up the line enough." He sighed. "My final destination is Lemilar Station."

"Lemilar? You're at least ten Gates away from Lemilar."

"Yeah, I have to ride the circuit. Can't afford to Flip over, and it's not like anyone is running a Flash. Transiting the Gates is the most affordable way to travel."

The terminal chirruped and the agent grumbled as they handed back the passport. "Damn refugees. Clogging up the place." They looked up at the human. "Forty third level is where the rest of the human and K'laxi refugees are if you want to see more of your kind." They looked past the man. "Next!"

Gord shouldered his bag, and walked past customs and into the promenade. It was wide and long, with shops on either side, and room for tables to be set out so that people could people watch. It was the same as any of a thousand orbitals, stations, and starbases he had been to in his long life. Sapients milled about, living their lives, going to work, meeting friends and living.

The thing that stuck out for Gord was the lack of humans. This station was far, far from the settled Colony Worlds and humans were rare here. He was used to being in the majority, even if he wasn't - technically - a human. These days one kept that kind of thing to themselves. Bouncing the pack to redistribute the weight, he started walking across the promenade, to look for the way up to the forty third level.

"Hey! Ape!" A Gren called out to Gord while was walking by. Gord didn't stop.

"I was talking to you, ape!" The Gren stood up from his seat at a restaurant, and approached Gord. Behind him two other Gren looked nervously at their friend, but didn't stop him.

Gord shrugged his pack off his shoulders and put his hand on it. Meeting the gaze of the Gren he sighed. "Yes, friend? What can old Gord do for you today?"

"That's an odd accent you have, Ape. You just learn Levinen?"

"No, I learned it a while ago, but I was taught by a Ivarr with a lisp."

At that, the two Gren behind the bully chuckled. Ivarr are insectoid species, they all speak with a slight lisp.

"Oh, a comedian. I see how it is." The bully turned back to his friends. "I mean, getting chased out of your own systems is pretty funny, so I do have to give you that." He tipped his head back and roared laughter, his mouthparts waggling along.

"All right then, I'll be on my way." Gord bent to pick up his bag.

"No, ape. You won't" The Gren put a large hand on Gord's bag. "You see, new arrivals have to pay an... administrative fee to get up to forty three. One hundred Stars."

Gord raised an eyebrow. "You know, if you hadn't been greedy, I probably would have just paid your extortion money." He looked around the large Gren at his two friends. "Thirty Stars? Would have paid it without any question. Even Fifty I would have grumbled, but paid so as to not cause trouble. But, one hundred stars? That's just too much."

The two Gren looked at each other for a moment. "Hey Tam, maybe the humie is right. One hundred seems like a lot to ask. Most of them are coming with the clothes they are wearing and that's it."

Tam turned back and raised a hand like he was going to cuff the Gren. Quit taking his side! I'm in charge here, I do what I want." He turned back to Gord. "One hundred Stars."

"Friend, I don't have one hundred Stars."

"Then you can't pass." Tam crossed his upper and lower arms. and glared at Gord.

"You see Tam - it's Tam? - You see Tam, that's a problem. I'm trying to get up to forty three where the other humans are, so that I can get my bearings and maybe work a bit so that I can buy passage through the next few gates. If you prevent me from doing that, then I'll be stuck here."

Tam took another step towards Gord. "One. Hundred. Stars."

Gord made a show of reaching for his wallet. "Look, I have Fifty on me - I was going to find a cot and get a bite, but that can wait-"

"Oh, you're going to pay, one way or another!" Tam roared, and his larger lower arms swung at Gord.

Faster than anyone thought possible, Gord had shuffled to the side of Tam, and the punches went wide. "Tam, really. I would wish you'd see reason and not do thi-" He ducked again as Tam wheeled around and tried to kick him with his strong, reverse articulated legs.

While Gord danced and ducked around Tam, he looked back at the two other Gren. "Look. I don't want trouble, fellas. Can I give you like ten Stars - just so you can say you shook me down - and I come back in a few demi cycles with a few more?"

The two other Gren's eyes were locked on Gord. They noticed how he was dodging every attack without seemingly putting any effort into it. "Uh Tam, maybe we should take the humie up on his offer. Do ya see how he's dodging you?"

"He's just getting lucky!" Tam was starting to breathe heavily as his swings got wilder and wilder. Gren had immense strength, but only in short bursts. They had almost no stamina. Finally all four of Tam's arms tried to roundhouse punch Gord. he side-stepped them and Tam spun around once and fell over, gasping.

Gord walked over and picked up his pack. "Uh, I'm just going to uh, go." He said to the other Gren. "Give Tam my regards, and I'll see you around eh?" Gord continued on down the promenade.

The rest of the walk he was very deliberately ignored. He found the lifts and went up to the forty third level. Here, if one squinted, one could think they were back in the Colony Worlds. Maybe Hyacinth, or Picaresque, or one of the other smaller starbases. Humans and K'laxi were around, in numbers Gord expected. He took one loop around the refugee level to get a feel for it, and sat down at a table outside an all-day breakfast place.

A busy K'laxi saw him, and waved. After a moment they approached. "Sorry! It's been a busy afternoon. My name is Ma-Ren, and I'll be your server today! What can I get you?"

Gord looked at the K'laxi and seemed to get lost for a moment. She was a spitting image. Ma-Ren's ears flicked nervously at the stare.

"Sir? Do you need another minute?"

"Oh! Sorry. I didn't mean to stare. It's just been a while since I've been somewhere with so many K'laxi. It feels like home. I'll uh, have the pancakes. Do you have any maple syrup?"

Ma-ren laughed. "My mother talked about maple syrup and how good it was. Something like that was probably left in the Colony Worlds. No, here you get regular sucrose syrup."

"Oh, okay, that'll be fine. Any chance of some coffee?"

"Sure thing. I'll bring you a cup now, while I put in the order for the pancakes?"

"That would be lovely, thank you." For the first time in months, Gord smiled widely.

[synintheraven]

✵pairing: sihtric kjartansson x fem!reader

✵summary: you finally find Ivarr Ragnarsson and a cup of ale gives an unexpected turn of events between the two of you.

✵tw: mentions of violence, mentions of alcohol, drinking, other than that lots of fluff :p

✵word count: 1,3k

characters info | part five

The sun was hiding behind clouds and a thin layer of snow covered the hills around us. It was cold, the wind crawled under my clothes and a shiver climbed my spine as their eyes were on me.

We had just arrived to Repton, yet the little army under Ivarr and Ubba's command was far more cautious than that of Tamworth. And as their famously reckless Lord stood proud before us, the rabid dogs followed close behind.

There were no children, no wives. Only soldiers dressed in mail, their Lord's most trusted hounds.

—And what of her? Is she your gift to me? —Ivarr asked almost too proud of himself and I was ready to bite back, but Sihtric was quicker to answer.

—She’s my woman. —He said. I frowned, his words still echoing in my head.

—Slave girl? —The Ragnarsson grinned, his eyes fixed on my expression. —Either that or she hates your cock.

Sihtric then gave me a strange look, his hand finding its way along my back and stopping where my butt joined my back, pulling me awkwardly closer to his side. —We’re just tired, it was a long journey from Theotford.

Surprisingly, he seemed to bite on Sihtric’s lie, while I pictured myself with a knife going through the Dane's throat.

—So, why are you here? Guthrum isn’t treating his hounds right?

—We got word that a son of Ragnar had taken Repton, so we thought to serve a true dane lord was better than to follow a stupid man to his defeat.

We knew nothing about Guthrum; not the colour of his banner nor the look of the man’s face. But it was easy to make up a lie when the man himself wasn’t there to deny it, though in truth Guthrum would’ve embraced us as his warriors as long as we looked like Danes.

Ivarr was hesitant, like dry weeds waiting on a spark to set ablaze. Yet he welcomed the fire, not afraid to get burnt.

—Ha! —He said loudly, his gaze studying me with curiosity as he crossed his arms. —And you, woman? Can you fight? Or are you only here to please this pretty warrior? —He finished as he looked at Sihtric, but he was out of words.

—The son of Ragnar wants me to teach him how to use his axe? —I snapped back happily, but my man, the one I wasn’t aware I had, was concerned about Ivarr’s deadly stare.

—I love sassy bitches, you can stay. —He smiled widely, as the men around us joined their lord with a grin. —Same for you, pretty boy.

Everything was blurry; the candles provided the room with a gloomy light and the flickering flames made the shadows around us deeper than they really were, like if whole territories hid among that darkness.

It made me wonder about the unknown, all that is hidden from plain sight but lurks in the blackness of the night. The wild beasts, the magic creatures, and all else that is hidden to us mortals.

I could hear the voices from the drunken warriors around me, their laughter, their joy after a succesful battle. The sound of wooden jars and metal clashing as they celebrated with ale, their harsh steps on the floor.

I was hearing Sihtric as he talked, telling me one more time stories about all his battles, all he had conquered to get here, to England. All about the raids: priceless treasures, gold-filled chests and wealthy norse fools ready to give everything up if only to escape an unneccesary fight, all that he'd managed to steal for himself after years of serving under Yggr's banner.

I watched as he wrapped his hands around the mug and a puddle of ale drenched the linen around his arms, yet he didn't seem to care. A tattoo showed from under his sleeve, an interesting shape playing in the shadow and hiding from the candle light. He simply kept on talking, ever proud and happy about his stories, his life.

Maybe it was the ale, maybe there was something in the air that night, but his words sounded funny in my ears. He was explaining how he once cut off a man's hand with an axe: the splatter of blood, the horror in that man's voice as he screamed out of pain. But all I could hear was a mumble, his attempt at sounding coherent while the ale made its way through his throat.

And so, I laughed. Sihtric's response was to look at me with a frown, then proceeded to burst out laughing with me.

He suddenly stopped and went completely quiet, worrying me for a moment that perhaps I was the reason of such a sudden change in his reaction, though nothing about his glare betrayed whatever was going on inside the man's head.

A young girl walked in our direction, trying hard to avoid Sihtric's eyes. She was skinnier than the others, with skin as white as snow and several bruises dyeing the flesh around her neck, making it no surprise that she was so afraid of the drunken warriors surrounding her. But she was there to serve drinks and so she would.

Her trembling hands made their best to hold the jar firmly and fill his cup, avoiding eye contact with the fearsome man before me. Yet when she was done and ready to escape, his hand wrapped around her wrist.

For whatever reason, I felt as if fire burnt inside of me; but I couldn't recall what was causing such a feeling, nor could I stop myself from standing up, as if something else was controlling my body.

—You're too pretty to be working at this stinking alehouse. —He said while pulling her closer, watching as the poor girl's panic intensified. —There's nothing to fear, woman, wouldn't you rather be with me than serving all these bastards?

There was a glimpse of a smile on his face, despite the terror in her eyes. He was a good man, for a drunken fool, and would've easily let her go if asked to: but that's not what those women were used to around there, so she was desperately looking for a way out.

So I took his mug in my own hand, spilling all its content on the floor. And his confused reaction was priceless.

—You better have a real good reason for that bullshit, y/n. —He stood up, freeing the girl's wrist, though she was still too frightened by him to go away.

—You're trying to hump some random girl and expect me to act as if I didn't care? —I asked with pride in my voice, though struggling to figure out what those words were supposed to mean.

He frowned again, probably trying to remain offended but failing miserably as a silly smile appeared on his face.

—We're supposed to be together, don't you remember, my love? —My words made no sense, yet they seemed sufficient for him, even if Ivarr and Ubba were too far from us to hear anything we were saying.

—Right! —His eyes widened up and he quickly took a step further from the girl, resting his hand on the messy table. —It's just that I'm so in love with you and to touch you would mean to ruin your pure beauty.

To this day I still don't quite remember what happened that night, nor do I recall when did the scared girl left us and ran back to the owner of that shithole of an alehouse. But I do, however, remember how he started to laugh mid-lie and looked down on his empty mug, only to remember I was the cause of it.

—Or perhaps my dear husband struggles to use his plow sword with his beloved wife. —I snarled back and once again he let out a noisy laugh then went quiet when he realized I had meant no compliment by that.

—Are you challenging me? —He asked with a playful smirk, leaning closer as I wrapped my arms around his neck and tangled my fingers on his hair.

My heart was beating hard: surprised at the shiver running through my body as I felt his skin on the tip of my fingers. And, for the first time since I’ve met him, something about his gaze felt different.

The candle light reflected on his face, his brown eye looking warm and inviting while the other side was ever bright, sea waters dancing within his eye.

His breath smelt of ale and his hands were getting a little too comfortable around my waist, but that didn’t stop me from reaching for his lips; even as he teased me, pressing the tip of his nose to my cheek, but avoiding my touch.

Sihtric’s kiss was full of warmth and necessity, feeling as his hands roughly pressed me onto his body. So I gave in.

[hereforreadandwrite]

Fanfiction Masterlist :

Assassin's Creed Valhalla:

Ivarr The Boneless x Female Reader:

Blood.

There was blood everywhere.

The floor, the walls, the ceiling, the furniture, everything was covered in your parents' blood. You could only watch helplessly as the macabre scene unfolded before your eyes. You weren't strong enough to be able to protect your parents. You had to live with their death on your conscience, but your brothers Sigurd and Eivor managed to ease the burden. Everything seemed to be going well until Sigurd decided to leave Norway to go to England.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Ect...

Mangle

King Rhodri decides to take revenge on Ivarr Ragnarsson by attacking the only thing he had the least bit of affection for: you.

Warning: mutilation, torture, nudity

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Ect.

charlie and the chocolate factory:

Willy Wonka x Female Reader:

Unlike your cousin Charlie Bucket, you hadn't had a chance in life. Your parents abandon you, leaving you in the hands of Mr. and Mrs. Bucket. As long as you can remember, you had to work hard to help them make ends meet. Like your cousin, you admired the famous Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, although you know that it was impossible for you to enter it. At least, that's what you thought.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Finish~

God Of War:

Kratos x Female Reader:

Abandoned

Ragnarok is over. You agreed to follow Kratos and Freya across the nine Realms, but instead of helping them in restorative quests, you will have a completely different revelation.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Finish~

Tyr x Female Reader:

You had a happy life. A loving family and a devoted husband. But every idyllic setting had a dark spot. And you were going to learn it the worst way.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Vikings:

Ragnar Lodbrok and Daughter reader:

Being the eldest daughter of Ragnar Lodbrok and Lagertha is not an easy existence. Everyone expects a lot from you. But it's even less so when you can't stand your own father and his ways.

Chapter One

kuroshitsuji:

Undertaker x Female reader:

Madness part 1

[chevvy-yates]

[NC_RES]_00001731 mercs_night_scharfenberg_002_scorp.file ///core:_scorp.file\\\

—

⚠️ READ: Please do not repost/reupload any of my friend's art here or to any other platform, or Arki, Ryder and Ivarr will hunt u down ;P

Pics done by the amazing @dreamskug. 🤍 🤍 🤍 Arki belongs to @nervouswizardcycle. ❤️ Ryder belongs to me. 🖤

—

Give me your faith, something I can believe in And you'll be my family, my brother, my friend Tell me a truth that I find not deceiving Teach me a lesson that I understand Build me a shelter, a place I can dwell in Show me a future that I can enjoy Give me a reason and I'll be your fellow Show me the target I have to destroy Exterminate annihilate destroy Show me my leader and I'll pledge obedience Whisper the name of the enemy mine Blessed be my fate and my tools of expedience I'm going to fulfill what's my mission divine Exterminate annihilate destroy

song link behind the cut (I recommend it)

@dreamskug thank u so so so so so so much for doing those pics! (I owe u aaahh). I expected it would be amazing but THIS up there is eVERYTHING. It's like a lil story. Like the boys get their info at the Afterlife, ready to go and fuck up some gonks, annihilate, exterminate and destroy – just to let everything sink in afterwards with a cigarette, a swig of whiskey enjoying the view of Arki's old home district.

and yes another gift for @nervouswizardcycle thanks to you Dream! <3

—

some thought I want to add bc I'm a bit emotional about them too:

Arki and Ryder share a special bond. One that is a bit hard to explain without going into detail. But so much is said: Ry and Arki share a lot together, yet they are different. Only they are able to relate to each other's anger and pain they both feel inside. Once they talked the friendship grows so tight that Ryder will let Arki into 'his family' (the team), let him be 'his friend' and sees him like 'his brother'. Arki had a hard time to become friends with Ry. The opening up 'gave him reason' enough, to be 'his fellow' and make everything right, get rid of both their pain and to fulfill Ryder's most wanted wish: to be free and have his own will again. Ofc Ryder will do the very same for Arki. @nervouswizardcycle and I will do our best to get it into written form and shown in vp in future! So stay tuned.

[ouroboros-hideout]

🧼 for Firebird 😈🖤

Do I need to prepare some shower pics for the fans? 😏 But he wouldn't look half as good as Ivarr in the bathtub.

🧼Do you prefer to take a shower during the morning or evening? Do you like taking baths? What's your favorite scent of shower gel?

Vlad: Depends on when I decide to or need to take a rest to go home, sleep a couple of hours or just relax. Whatever time of the day it is then I tend to take a cold shower to refresh my mind. I wouldn’t say no to a long hot bath either, but this is really something out of the ordinary and I usually don’t waste my time on that. For scents I prefer the same as in my perfumes, ambra, cedarwood, saffron and similar slightly floral but earthly tones. 

[soul-invictus]

I don't want you to do as I say.

I want you to want to do as I say.

/Inhales. Exhales/ Finally I had the pleasure to lay my hands (not literally ^^) on this beautiful creature. The most exquisitely gorgeous Ivarr took my breath away the first time I saw him and I've been a fangirl since then. Dear @dreamskug, I just can't thank you enough! ❤️ Took a few really quick (1 hour quick lol) pics, just to test what I can do about him. Will take a looooot more. I fuckin' adore him. Period.

/Пиздец он, конечно, простите мой французский. Великолепный. Восторг./

[troublemakingrebel]

Hello 👋 I have various playlists for different ac valhalla characters and I was wondering if you had any song suggestions/songs that remind you of Ivarr or Ceolbert? I have plenty already but always looking for more 😂

Oh, hi! I have some, indeed! However, most of them are shippy so I won't include them because it's not everyone's cup of tea 😅

Ceolbert's list is quite small

this one simply has a nice and cozy folk air to it, and I believe that Ceo himself would enjoy listening to it played in his father's longhouse:

this one perfectly fits a confrontation between Saxons and Vikings, and the lamb reference is obvious, I guess:

hard to explain this one, it's melancholic and desperate, just like Ceolbert's demise felt:

Ivarr's list is easier to compile

this one could be told from Ceolbert's perspective as he watches a potential downfall of Ivarr pursuing Rhodri:

this one, however, could be Ivarr's view on the same conflict:

this one is Ivarr's general vibe, but there is sorrow in it:

this one could be Ubba's take on Ivarr, not a single word heard (just replace Devil with Hel):

kinda a stretch with this one but it makes me think of Ivarr's hatred towards Rhodri:

again, hard to explain Architects and what they make me feel (too much at once!), but I perceive this song as a mix of emotions of everyone, including Ivarr, witnessing Ceolbert's end:

p.s. Would be amazing to see your playlists, too 👀

[alt-king]

My whole blog is just practically incorrect quotes at this point, but I don't care because I enjoy doing them. :)

These ones feature Eivor and Ivarr with their two collective brain cells.

Eivor : *holding a bottle* Is this whiskey or perfume?

Ivarr: *chugs entire bottle*

Ivarr: It’s perfume.

-

Ivarr: So are we flirting right now?

Eivor: I AM LITERALLY STABBING YOU!

Ivarr: That doesn’t answer my question.

-

Eivor : WHAT’S YOUR TYPE!

Ivarr: Anything, honestly, but blondes especially.

Eivor, desperately, as Ivarr bleeds out: YOUR BLOOD TYPE!

Ivarr: Oh! B positive.

Eivor: DONT TRY TO CHEER ME UP JUST TELL ME YOUR BLOOD TYPE!

-

Eivor : Violence isn't the answer.

Ivarr: You’re right.

Eivor : *sighs in relief*

Ivarr: Violence is the question.

Eivor : What?

Ivarr, bolting away: And the answer is yes.

Eivor , running after them: NO-

-

Eivor and Ivarr skipping stones on lake*

Eivor : It’s such a beautiful evening.

Ivarr, whispering: Take that you fucking lake

-

Ivarr: Okay. I get it. You've had a really hard time lately, you're stressed out, seven people died-

Eivor: Twelve, actually.

Ivarr: Not the point. Look, they're dead now and really whose fault is that?

Eivor: Yours!

Ivarr: That's right: no one's

-

Ivarr: Bad things keep happening to me, like I have bad luck or something.

Eivor: Ivarr, you don't have bad luck. The reason bad things happen to you is because you're a dumbass.

[ncafterdark]

Kinktober 2023

Day 29: Hiro/Ivarr--Breathplay

*****

It had started gradually, the man’s hand brushing his neck—an expression of intrigued appraisal, as if musing how well it would fit. He’s not accustomed to feeling delicate, not anymore but he looks it in comparison, Ivarr’s fingers nearly meeting where they rest, cybernetics icy against flushed skin. Seeing how he’d react, he’d dug them in, a gleeful smile as he’d leaned into it, eyes slipping shut, blissfully silent for a change. 

“If I’d known it was this easy to shut you up, I’d have done it sooner.” 

The retort is almost automatic, part indignant, part flustered—caustic words dying on his tongue, the man’s grip tightening for a moment, not cutting off his air entirely, a warning in everything but words. He hates how easily his body responds to it, adrenaline and need that drives every coherent thought out of his mind—save for the man and raw sensation, addicted to the thrill they both bring. 

“Think I could get you off like this?” 

He knows better than to answer, that he’d just have his words turned against him or denied entirely. Nor does he think he could, even if he wanted to—disagreement simply for the sake of it, even if he’s secretly wondering too. 

He grips the man’s wrist, blue eyes meeting winter—a shaky smile, confidence even with a hand around his throat. “M’not gonna break. Harder.” 

It’s the prompt Ivarr had been waiting for, arrogant certainty, that he knew him, knew what he liked even better than he did sometimes. 

“Ask nice.”

“Choke me, or I’ll find some other gonk to do it.” 

He feels the man pause—hand slackening, tension in the air enough he could pluck at it, chances a glance at him from beneath his lashes. Ivarr’s expression is inscrutable, and it’s infinitely more worrying than seeing him angry, finding his way to the bait he’s left out.

“You’re not gonna do that. Not gonna be enough. They’re gonna have my face, Kitten and you know it.”

Ivarr’s other hand goes to cup him, traitorously hard, pressure on his throat tightening again. It sends a hot spike of pleasure through him, a raspy moan that the man drinks in, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He doesn’t have a response but his body might as well be doing it for him, chasing every fleeting touch, every point of contact. 

“Go on then. Beg.” 

—

(Ft. @dreamskug's Ivarr 🖤🖤)

[anosrepasi]

1-4?

Yay <3

Tell us about your current project(s) So Prima Lingua has revived itself again and is probably my most current project. The thing that I love about PL in particular is that I've come to adore every chapter of it, which is unusual for a project, especially one as long as PL but with such a short number of chapters. I thought I would really struggle through the Booker and Nile chapters because at least the Nile chapter is a lot of rehashing scenes from Lingua Franca with additional context and my brain didn't want to do that for the longest time. Progress is actually really close, I have two chapter left, including the one I'm currently writing, and the fic is complete. Which is also crazy to think about cause that'll be my second long-fic completed. The other project that's been taking shape in my drafts is a ghost fic for Assassin's Creed: Valhalla because unfortunately when I replay games I tend to get weirdly attached to the characters I know are doomed. Ivarr was one of those characters, and I thought his death had way too much angst to not play around with the idea of him haunting Eivor afterwards. Progress on that is that it's almost completely written I just have to nail the epilogue/ending and some placeholder text spots. What I love about it is that it is a fic about conflict and guilt and I really really love the dialogue in the fic because I made one of the characters unwillingly mute for most of it, and that gets addressed.

Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing Honestly, I'm looking forward to Nolexi and where I finish off the Lingua Franca series. I have a couple of scenes I refer to in my head that I'm looking forward to writing that are coded in my brain as: Yusef in the dark, Booker in Chicago, Nicolo gets mad, Nile in the museum, and the family dinner. They're kind of acting at my waypoints for the fic and oooof I have lots of feelings about all of them and cannot wait to get into the strange messy world of estranged and grieving no longer but still dysfunctional immortals.

What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? If I had to pick a scene from an existing fic, I wish I could see and have a fleshed out version of Booker exploring the Chicago World's Fair in 1893 that I touch on in Prima Lingua. I know I wanted to have Booker end up in Chicago for a while back when I was writing Lingua Franca and having Nicolo experience the world fair as a second hand observer was one of the best unexpected plot points I created when writing chapter 4 of Prima Lingua but. I also hint that Booker was literally a victim of H.H. Holmes in the fic and it gets brushed off cause Booker and Nicolo are too busy being amazed by everything happening at the world fair. Which having been to just a Venice Biennale, I get it. If i was immortal and getting murdered got in the way of seeing everything i could, i would also minimize the whole murder thing. Alas. I don;t really want to write this but I wish i could watch an episode of Booker and by extension, Nicolo, wandering around the Chicago world fair. i think it'd be fun.

Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like) (I wrote more than a paragraph) From chapter 1 of Nolexi, I have an exchange that just I was like. Wow! This is fucking rough! And what a great way to set up how rough this is going to be for everyone! I had a bit of character conflict in Lingua Franca, but the first two fics in the series are mostly man vs. situation/setting conflict not interpersonal conflict and Nolexi is about all the character conflict. So yeah. Many a struggle ahead for the group.

“No, I understand you fine, it’s not your language skills," Booker motions to himself, “I haven’t spoken Provincial since I was a child.” Nicolo tilts his head at the statement, his confusion evident for a moment before something like understanding, though understanding for what Booker couldn’t begin to fathom, replaces it with a blank clarity. “It’s a lonely life, being so far removed from that which you consider home.” And that’s- that’s too close to something Sebastien doesn’t even want to acknowledge and like a fool his mouth is on the defense before his brain catches up. “You’d be the expert in that, I think.” Nicolo’s sad smile doesn’t waver and Booker is ready to shoot himself out of this conversation. Fuck. He just always has to get the last word in doesn’t he. Nicolo rises from the table and Sebastian flinches if expecting a blow. “Goodnight, younger brother. Rest well.” Great job, self.

Fun Meta Writer Asks

[midnightlitterateur]

Sweet Aches and Torturous Need - Part 1

Auralie froze. Her sleepy mind, still sluggish from waking, tried inadequately to comprehend the sight that lay before them. Her eyes moved slowly over the naked body of the man that lay sleeping beside her. His muscular, tattooed chest rising and falling with each gentle, ale scented breath. His firm stomach, covered in the tattooed runic language of his people. The��”Oh my Lord!”

She exclaimed under her breath as she averted her gaze from his not quite fully erect manhood. She let out a low whoosh of air, her blushing cheeks burning. It was not that she had never seen a naked man before, she had been married once before, however briefly. It was just…well…she had never seen his before and to have it unexpectedly turn up whilst she was sleeping was quite a shock. How had he even gotten in here without waking her? And why was he naked? Naked! She lifted the corner of the blanket and went to throw it over him but she paused, sneaking one last look at his impressive form. Her blanketed hand slowly lowered as she lost herself. Ivarr looked nothing like her husband had. Thane Osrick had been of the same age as her father, wrinkled and wizened and had died in his sleep mere weeks after their wedding. Ivarr was a warrior, just past his prime but still a solid specimen of a man. A loud snore cut through the quiet morning air bringing her to her senses. “I should do something,” she thought, “But what?” Intrusive thoughts of rampant filth caused another flush of pink across her pale flesh and she smirked wickedly despite her precarious position. She glanced at the lock on the door of her room and bit her lip as she reasoned it out. They were going to be found. There was no way around that. In a very short time the door to her room would open and three bustling ladies in waiting would catch the future King of Mercias daughter in a very compromising position. The old maids would then inform her father and she would be dragged home in absolute disgrace and there was no point arguing her innocence because who would believe her? Auralie slipped out of bed and slid the bolt home before she could change her mind and turned, leaning against the thick wooden door. “It must be what he came here for?” She reasoned with herself “Why else would you come to a woman’s bed in the middle of the night stark bollock naked?” Taking a deep, steadying breath she went back to bed, determined to find out.

Read more here

[synintheraven]

✵pairing: sihtric kjartansson x fem!reader

✵summary/small introduction: Sihtric and you finally reach Tamworth, but you don't find quite what you were looking for there.

✵tw: mentions of violence

✵word count: 1,1k

characters info | part four

We were near. I could see the rising ground, the patched grass covering the hills to the west and the corn fields bordering the city walls to the east.

Leicester looked like no more than a bunch of broken bricks from there, the trees around it seeming small as a pile of dry leaves. The sun was sinking into the horizon, the colours of the sky going from a light orange to a dark blue, bordering the Saxon town.

And, as the horse galloped towards the edge of the hill, the Fortress of Tamworth revealed itself.

Grey stones emerged from the ground at the top, following the slope and climbing over rocks. A carved ditch circled the fortified town, weeds and bushes covered an evident trap to outside eyes. But, as long as we remained on the stone road, we’d reach Tamworth’s safety.

I had my legs hanging from the side of the horse, with my cloak flying in the wind and my sword clinging on its scabbard. Humming one of my father’s favourite songs as Sihtric listened in silence, almost enjoying the sound.

It was the closest I had ever been to him, feeling the warmth of his body on my chest and the subtle smell of mead coming from the fur over his shoulders.

—Yggr used to sing that when we were kids. —He said when the song had finished and looked over his shoulder, a subtle smirk appearing on his face. —I was told a Norse shipmaster wrote it many winters ago, before you or I even came to this world.

—I heard it was a Dane, an old sailor that went mad after spending his whole life at sea. —I taunted, yet all he gave me in return was a scoff; a reminder that, every time I thought I have gained his trust, he was still reluctant to befriend me.

Was it something I have said? One of my many attempts to provoke some sort of feeling, to find the friendly and silly man Yggr spoke of? He had told me of a happy man, a thoughtful warrior that picked his words, yet never turned down an opportunity to mock others. But Sihtric evidently wasn’t such a man, or at least hid it whenever I was around.

The fortress was closer now, a stone giant towering over us as we neared the open gates. With warriors in mail standing above them, carefully watching our approach. Yet we were allowed into the city without questioning, our looks easily betraying us as Danes as we rode among the Ragnarsson’s army.

It was a busy place; Dane folk filled the place with laughter and chatter, preparing themselves for supper as the night overshadowed the land. Children ran, most men were drinking or training and women worked hard to polish armours. They were preparing for battle, enjoying the last days before it was time to pick up the swords and the shields, then fight for the land.

The small village within the fortress was filled with smoke from the fires and the stench of animal dung, while we rode in search of a place our horse could rest. Watching over the city from behind bushes and rocky boulders, was the thatched roof over the main hall: yet the place was too quiet for a Dane Lord to be wandering around the Fortress' walls, suggesting our search for Ivarr wasn't over.

Though I still felt uneasy: carefully analyzing our surroundings, looking for the slightest sign of trouble. For no one suspected we were not the Ragnarsson's warriors, but it would take only one person to question us to be caught lying. It was just me and Sihtric and a couple hundreds of them, turning us into easy prey for a pack of hungry wolves.

But I couldn't show fear. I had to stay focused, watch every move and word I made. And if we were lucky, we'd find Ivarr.

A full moon filled the night sky, an owl hooted somewhere in the shadows and the tiny flames danced before us. The open doors allowed the cold wind inside the hall, fighting the fire on the hearth to keep the hall warm as we had supper.

A boar stew laid before us, its lack of taste compensated with sweet mead and the words of a drunken warrior, more than willing to share information with us.

—Ivarr was here a few moons ago. —He took another sip of his drink, spitting as he tried to put his thoughts into words. —But he left, because Ubba and Halfdan were fighting like children.

—Left to where? He didn’t tell us anything. —Sihtric interrupted with a lie, grabbing his mug as he pretended to drink, but I could tell not a single drop of mead had touched his lips.

—Of course he wouldn’t! —The man scoffed, giving a hard fist blow on the table. —Ivarr never tells shit to anyone, unless he either likes them or wants to chop off their head. —The last few words were almost unintelligible and I watched as he fought back the need to vomit.

—What about the brothers?

—They are in Repton! —he paused, looking at us with squinted eyes in suspicion. —Are you both new here? —He said. Then, waved a hand in the air, dismissing his suspicions. —The brothers gathered all of us here, fought about land and plans with Guthrum, then left to kill Christians over at Repton.

—With Guthrum? —I asked as Sihtric was standing up, ready to leave with our newly acquired information, but sighed and sat down again.

—Guthrum is a coward and left for East Anglia where he can play the King with his dogs. I never liked him anyway. —he took a last sip of his drink, then complained loudly about his empty cup until a slave brought him more mead.

—And Ivarr? Where could have he gone?

—He must be back with his brothers at Repton by now, —the drunken fool downed his newly served drink, looking more nauseous than before. —they always fight when there’s ale but make peace when the birds start with their little noises.

And just like that, we had a new destination to reach and a glimpse to what the Dane lords were planning. With Guthrum away in East Anglia, it meant the Ragnarssons’ forces would be smaller and their own quarrels would soon divide their army into disorganized little groups. Yet someone needed to lure those Danes into quit the fight or leave to any other territory far from our encampment.

So as the day came to an end, we bought new horses and searched for a place to spend the night, before we rode to Repton.

Fun facts, because why not?

✯Ragnarssons: So you probably noticed at this point that I don't ever refer to them as Lothbroks, the reason is that 1) medieval dane/norse last names usually go as Father's name + son (or dóttir if it's female) and 2) Lothbrok was a nickname that meant Saggy/Dirty Pants, so yeah not something I want to use to refer to his *potential sons.

✯Potential sons??: Well I'm no historian (just uhm google a lot of stuff for research and curiosity) but apparently they probably weren't Ragnar's actual sons, they were more likely just popular warriors among the danes that Ragnar adopted to hold onto their fame to remain interesting (lol) but also because a King needs heirs (and if they're legends, all the better)

✯Ragnar Lothbrok: Last but not least, the Ragnar that died in a pit of snakes potentially never existed as there's no historical or geographical proof in England of pit of snakes ever being a thing to torture or kill people, plus the tale that tells of this was written much later. However, there was a real Ragnar that did raid Paris and even went to Ireland too, but he was probably just merged with the legendary Ragnar at some point :p

[hereforreadandwrite]

Chapter four

Masterlist

/!\ Miscarriage/!\

You came back to the longhouse, but you were strange. He knew what you went through was traumatic, but there was something else. You hid your body, covering your loosest clothes, you hid the right side of your face. You refused to look at him and you avoided him. You were hiding from Ivarr. You were hiding something from him and it was starting to annoy him. Ivarr tried to give you space and time, as Ubba and Halfdan advised him to do. They thought that with time to yourself, you would get better, but you still refused to talk to him.

You had refused to speak to him for four moons now.

Four moons since you refused to sleep with him.

You've been avoiding him for four moons.

You had completed several tasks that allowed you to move as much as possible. By Odin, you even agreed to work in the stables as long as you stayed away from Ivarr.

This time he had had enough. Their brothers could go to Helheim with their council. Ivarr was tired of seeing his wife drift away from him and become nothing more than a shadow of herself. Ivarr would go deep into the forest to find you, training you in archery. You drew the string of your bow, letting go of the string to see your arrow go into the ground, far from your target. At the end of your nerves, you threw your bow on the ground. Now that you had lost the use of your right eye, you could no longer aim properly. You had shot around twenty arrows, none of which had touched your target. You drew your axe, throwing it at the target, but like your arrows, it fell on the dead leaves.

“Shit!” you cried, running your hands over your face. "I'm tired of it!”

Ivarr leaned against the tree, watching you pick up your arrows and axe. When you turned towards him, you froze when you saw your companion. You sighed, putting your arrows back in your quiver.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, hanging your axe on your belt.

"I was looking for you. Is that bad?"

“I would have thought you would have gone to fight Bretons or Saxons.”

"The Bretons ran off with the pig's wife and apparently we can't go after the Saxons because of that idiot Bishop and Ceolbert," Ivarr growled.

“Normally, that doesn’t stop you,” you said, turning your back on him to detach your target. “What’s stopping you?”

“My wife stops me.”

You froze when you heard him say that. Was Ivarr worried about you? It was new. You turned to Ivarr. The Boneless looked at you with his gaze that seemed to penetrate your entire being. You swallowed, clutching the target to your chest. Gods, you didn't like it when he looked at you like he did. It always made you lose your means, but with their marks King Rhodri had left you.

You hated them.

You hated your body.

You had several other marks of war, but these showed your helplessness. So you made the decision to hide them. You hid your bruised eye and scars under layers of bandages and hid your body under thick furs. Ivarr lifted himself from the tree, moving closer to you. Your grip tightened, even more, on your target.

"There's something you're not telling me, woman," he said darkly. "What did Rhodri do to you? Did he make you do-"

"No! No, he didn't do anything like that."

"So what happened? What else did he do, (Y/N)?"

What else did Rhodri do?

You didn't want to think about it anymore, that's why you were always moving. You didn't want to think about this event anymore. You looked at Ivarr out of the corner of your eye. Should you tell him? Ivarr growled, spreading his arms, waiting for your response. You bit your lip. You tried to find your words. How could you tell him something like that? Ivarr was a drengr. This sort of thing was not important to a drengr. To die with dignity in combat is the goal of a drengr. Ivarr's objective. He always shouted it loud and clear. He always told you that you would be together in Valhalla, that you would both fight and drink and fuck in the great hall. Maybe you should have focused on that goal.

Maybe... you should have joined Valhalle sooner.

Maybe.

"We are drengr. Our role is to fight and reach Valhalla. That's why we are born. That's why we die. We live for nothing else, " you said, turning to Ivarr. "I repeat that to myself. Day after day. I focus on the most menial tasks to keep my mind occupied and not think about that day and what he did. I...he trampled on him like if he was just a common insect."

“Who did Rhodri step on (Y/N)?”

"Our baby... he... he trampled on him..."

Ivarr looked at you without knowing what to say or what to think. A baby? It was impossible. You never had the build of a pregnant woman. You continued your training as always. You fought against Saxons. You got punched in the stomach. Ivarr ran his hands over his face, pacing as he digested this news.

"How...? When...? You... you weren't pregnant when you were..."

"I was, but I didn't know it. He... he wasn't bigger than that," you said, pointing to the space with your thumb and index finger. "He looked like a larva... but... he was our baby... Rhodri had hit me so hard in the stomach. It hurt so much, but I... I didn't expect to see it. I tried to hide it. I hid it in a piece of cloth. I wanted to bury it. But... Rhodri saw it. He snatched it from me and... he trampled on him like he was crushing a common insect. I... I couldn't do anything. I... I could just watch him trample on him again and again... he didn't care. Nothing was left."

You could no longer hold back your tears as you thought about this scene. You saw again this little thing in your underwear that you hid a piece of fabric. You saw again Rhodri snatching it from your hands to throw it on the ground and stomping on it with rage. You screamed and cried for this child you couldn't bury. You cursed Rhodri for doing what he did.

You were surprised to see Ivarr turn on his heel and walk away from you. Where was he going? Why did he leave you alone?

"Ivarr?! Where are you going?! Ivarr!!"

Ivarr ignored your request. He continued to walk away until he disappeared from your field of vision. You had just lost your husband. Why did you speak? Why did you have to listen to Bishop Deorlaf? You should have kept it all to yourself. You fell to your knees, letting the target fall to the ground. You had nothing left. Were you alone? Not impossible. You must have had a bad dream, didn't you? Yes, that was the only explanation. You manage to get up, picking up your target to return to your tent. You put away your weapons and your target before lying down on your makeshift bed. Exhaustion overwhelmed you, you fell asleep. You didn't have any dreams. No nightmares. But there was nothing restful about this sleep. You didn't know how long you had slept, but you had to wake up to the feeling of someone shaking you and calling your name. You opened your eyes. Your gaze met Ivarr’s. You stood up, looking at your surprised husband. Ivarr had returned.

"Get ready, let's go," he said, standing up.

"Where?" you asked as you stood up, running your hands through your tangled hair. "

At Rhodri's tomb," Ivarr replied grimly.

[therealnightcity]

Nine Six Ship Songs

Tagged by @ghostoffuturespast-thank you so much! <3

Hiro:

Kintsugi (OT3): Hiro, Victory Delvin and Johnny Silverhand

Chasing Cars-Snow Patrol

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we're told Before we get too old Show me a garden that's bursting into life

Lots of longing and feelings that nobody realizes are reciprocated, and personal growth and figuring out how to heal and moving forward together.

Trouble Comes in Threes (OT3): Hiro, Ivarr, and Dagger

Beautiful is Boring-Bones UK

Do we make you sick? Do our imperfections make your blue breath run thick? Give me scars and stripes It does not please me to be easy on any of your eyes Any of your eyes

Grimy, sexy and a little harsh, unconventional, just like them. They're not trying to make the others into something they're not--just accepting as they are.

Tiger Lilies: Hiro and Ivarr:

Under your Skin-Aesthetic Perfection

Without thinking Take What I want My claws creeping down Where it's warm If I'm dreaming Is this wrong? I just can't wait to get under your skin

Where you're just a little addicted to the other person, finding your hands mutually reaching to message them, even as you're trying not to think about the other, under your skin and not going anywhere

Just Chooms: Hiro and Kit Salcedo:

Cheap Thrills-Sia

'Til I hit the dance floor, hit the dance floor I got all I need No, I ain't got cash, I ain't got cash But I got you, baby

Honorable mentions are Bamo and Muévelo--easy to dance to, and a good beat, something they might have listened to in the Coyote together, friendship blooming into something more, until it feels as natural as breathing

Ares:

Clockwork Heart: Ares/Ofelia

Devil's Backbone-The Civil Wars

Don't care if he's guilty, don't care if he's not He's good and he's bad and he's all that I've got Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I'm begging you please Don't take that sinner from me Oh don't take that sinner from me

Those two have the sort of love, where they don't care if the other has done bad things, nothing matters as long as they can be together, and nothing will get in their way, loving in spite of flaws

Avi:

The Devil You Know: Avi/Mr. Blue Eyes

Main Theme--LA Noire Soundtrack

(No vocals this time)

There's a vibe that fits, looking over the city at night, the cherry of a cigarette glowing, whiskey on the table, and reaching over to brush a hand across their cheek--something private and intimate

Tagging: @shinycorvidae, @dreamskug, @wraithsoutlaws, @a-pirate, @chevvy-yates, @afterdark-vp, @dustymagpie, @wanderingaldecaldo, @gloryride, @breezypunk, @jaymber, @humberg, and anyone else who sees it and wants to do it ❤️❤️

Victory Delvin belongs to @shinycorvidae, Ivarr belongs to @dreamskug, Kit belongs to @a-pirate, and Dagger belongs to @wraithsoutlaws 🥰