#moder ivar

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #15: Just Your Average Symposium

Prompt: row || Master Post || On AO3

“I had forgotten how lively the conferences are in Limsa Lominsa,” Nidhana said cheerfully.

On the stage where the panel was seated, the arcanist presenting had escaped her colleagues trying to hold her back to stumble forward and throw a punch at the professor from the University of Ul’dah. The hyur ducked and tackled the au ra to the floor, and then a full-bore brawl broke out between their colleagues. Synnove, at the moderator’s podium, threw up her hands in disgust. “Get the kiddos out of here!” she barked, and her fellow arcanists in the audience immediately began herding the first- and second-years out of the auditorium.

Varpasa snickered into her palm as Jalamuc covered his eyes, whistling mournfully through his trunk. “It’s a paper on the aetheric properties of pathogens and managing potential disease vectors, how in the world does one get into a fistfight about it?” the other Arkasodara said.

“Oh, please, like any one of us wouldn’t have lost our tempers being questioned so rudely,” Nidhana said, watching with keen interest as the front half of the room used Synnove’s distractedness, the Highlander now wading into the stage brawl with Tyr at her side, to devolve into a chaotic mess of debate. The lalafell academics were always the most vicious, so much rage compressed into such tiny bodies.

“Tobana and Ayleth have hated each other for years, too,” Mahruvvet said, on Varpasa’s other side. “How long has their “In reply to” chain stretched to now?”

“It’s at least ten,” Varpasa said, finally gaining control of herself.

Synnove had, of course, read the energy in the room correctly when she had demanded the removal of the youngest students, as the auditorium was quickly descending into bedlam. Any excuse for a debate, or a fight. Which was both, to academics.

And Lominsans preferred a fistfight. Honestly, it was such a better method; Hannish alchemists went to the explosives first a little too eagerly.

(Nidhana should not cast stones, she knew. Put her and her fellows from the High Crucible in the same room as a gaggle of adjunct professors from the University of Radz-at-Han, and there would be violence at some point, even if it was just a single bloody nose or trunk.)

A chirp caught all their attention, and they glanced down to see Galette sitting primly at Nidhana’s feet. Sorry, Nidhana, she churred, her mental ‘voice’ genuinely apologetic, could I use you as a lookout post? Mama needs me to check the paths to the exits stay clear.

“Oh, certainly, little one, I’m happy to be of assistance!” Nidhana said, bending down to scoop the carbuncle up and set her on her shoulder.

Galette chittered her thanks, ears flicking as her head whipped back and forth to scan the crowd. Such a lovely carbuncle; Nidhana still remembered that one conference over a decade ago where she had eaten half the dessert table at the buffet lunch on the third day when tempers were fraying and Synnove had to grab her carbuncle and flee the city entirely to escape the ire of the attendees. Of course, Galette was still willing and able to demolish an entire spread of desserts all by herself, but her self-control was much better these days.

On stage, Synnove had literally dragged Tobana and Ayleth apart; Tyr had flopped on Ayleth, the hyur snarling in outrage, as Tobana dangled in Synnove’s grip and struggled to break free.

The cacophony of everyone shouting and yelling and arguing all at once was incredible, and some of Nidhana’s cheer dimmed as the sound assaulted her. Synnove was shouting something herself, but she couldn’t be heard, and Nidhana saw her face twist before she gestured with her free hand to someone.

Ivar leapt onto the moderator’s podium, threw back his head, and howled.

The sudden, following silence seemed to echo, and the audience slowly turned to face the stage again, many visibly cringing with their shoulders hunched.

“Thank you, darling,” Synnove said to the ruby carbuncle, who puffed out his chest. Then the Highlander turned her head and leveled a glare on the audience. “You will behave or I will personally kick each and every one of your asses. Except the Hannish alchemists, you’ve been lovely. Please off Zarir for me.”

“Your shows are the best!” Nidhana called down. “And it’s called plausible deniability! None of us have it!”

Synnove waved in acknowledgement, and set Tobana back on her feet, pointing sternly to the Raen’s seat. The other woman grudgingly went to take it as Tyr dragged Ayleth back to hers.

Galette wiggled up to loaf on Nidhana’s head. I’m just gonna stay here, she chittered.

“Ate a tort you weren’t supposed to, didn’t you?”

…Maybe.

Varpasa started snickering again.

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#ffxivwrite2022 #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #nidhana #varpasa #jalamuc #mahruvvet #oc: synnove greywolfe #synnove's carbuncles #dt's writing

[amr-goat]

Osteogenesis Imperfecta

(Brittle Bone Disease)

Osteogenesis imperfecta (OI) is a rare disease in which the skeletal system and all its bones are extremely fragile and can break and fracture easily, often from very little trauma or force. It is also known as Brittle Bone Disease. The severeness of OI can vary from person to person. A person with OI can have several hundred fractures and breaks throughout their lifetime (“Osteogenesis Imperfecta”).

History

There is evidence that OI has affected people since ancient times. It has been recognized in an Egyptian mummy of an infant from about 1000 BC. The mummy is currently in the British Museum in London, England. A Viking leader who lived in the 9th century, Ivar Ragnarsson “Ivar the Boneless,” probably had OI (Wagner). He is reported to have been a very wise leader and a very fierce warrior who had to be carried into battle on a shield because his legs were so soft. Case studies of people with fragile bones and hearing loss began appearing in medical literature in the 1600’s. The term “osteogenesis imperfecta” was used in medical literature beginning in the 1840’s (About OI – OI Foundation).

Cause of OI/Genetics

OI is passed on genetically through a mutation or change in genes. People who have OI have a genetic mutation that carries the wrong set of instructions for making collagen, the substance that makes our bones strong.

People with OI have a mutation in one of the two copies of the genes (COL1A1 or COL1A3) that carry instructions for making type 1 collagen- the protein “scaffolding of bone and other connective tissues. The mutations cause a reduction in the amount of type 1 collagen made. Other people however may have a recessive inheritance pattern carried through families.

Dominant/ Recessive OI

In dominant OI, only one copy of the OI gene mutation is necessary for the child to have OI. If someone has dominant OI then they have a 50% chance of passing on to their offspring (Genetics).

In order to receive recessive OI, the gene mutation must come from both parents. Both parents d not need to have the disease however but both need to carry the mutation in their genes (Genetics).

This image shows the mutation of OI and how the mutation is recessive in this family.

Types of OI

Type 1: 

The most common type and much milder compared to other types. 

Bones are more likely to break from mild to moderate force and trauma and. Most bones break before the person hits puberty

Type 2: 

Most severe type. Causes death at birth or shortly after because of an inability to breathe. 

Most bones are broken during birth 

Lungs are generally undeveloped 

Type 3: 

 Most severe type is babies who don’t die as newborns. At birth, a baby may have slightly shorter arms and legs than normal and arm, leg, and rib fractures.

Type 4: 

Symptoms are between mild and severe. The bones of the arms and legs may not be straight. He or she may not grow normally.

Type 5: 

Similar to type 4. Symptoms may be medium to severe. It is common to have enlarged thickened areas (hypertrophic calluses) in the areas where large bones are fractured

Type 6: 

Very rare. Symptoms are medium. Similar to type IV.

Type 7: 

Similar to  type 4 or type 2. It is common to have shorter than normal height. Also common to have shorter than normal upper arms and thighbones. 

Type 8: 

Similar to types II and III. Very soft bones and severe growth problems.

Symptoms

Easily broken bones

Bone deformities (bowing in the legs)

Sclera (discoloration of the eyes) 

Curved spined

Barrel shaped chest

Weak muscles

Hearing and breathing problems

Most patients are small in stature

Treatment

Physical therapy

Fracture care

Bracing

Surgical Procedures

Medication

Biblography

About OI – OI Foundation. oif.org/informationcenter/about-oi.

Blocked. orthoinfo.aaos.org/en/diseases--conditions/osteogenesis-imperfecta.

Genetics. medicine.tamu.edu/class-files/webpath16/genhtml/genet051.htm.

OIFE - Osteogenesis Imperfecta Federation Europe. “What Is OI.” OIFE - Osteogenesis Imperfecta Federation Europe, 8 Dec. 2021, oife.org/what-is-oi.

“Osteogenesis Imperfecta.” National Institute of Arthritis and Musculoskeletal and Skin Diseases, 4 Nov. 2022, www.niams.nih.gov/health-topics/osteogenesis-imperfecta.

“---.” Johns Hopkins Medicine, 19 July 2022, www.hopkinsmedicine.org/health/conditions-and-diseases/osteogenesis-imperfecta.

Osteogenesis Imperfecta: MedlinePlus Genetics. medlineplus.gov/genetics/condition/osteogenesis-imperfecta.

Wagner, Stefanie. “How Does OI Impact Our Lives?” OIFE - Osteogenesis Imperfecta Federation Europe, 30 Oct. 2021, oife.org/2021/10/30/how-does-oi-impact-our-lives.

#medicine #orthopedic #cool teachers

[scandinavianfairytale]

Him & I

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Warnings: Summer time fun, (inappropriate) ice cream consumption, so much domesticity & lots of old married couple style bantering, so many feelings 🥰🥺, Ivar & Reader are too cute 🥰 but their partners are getting suspicious 😬😅

It was unusually hot this summer. So much so that you accepted Ivar's invitation to his family house on Anholt island for a few days for this heatwave to pass. The Lothbroks rented the Air Taxi for the whole extended bunch, now including Freydis, Erik, Tora and you.

The extended weekend everyone took off work was much appreciated as well as the swim in the cold Atlantic ocean. Everyone got along very well, playing volleyball and board games, cooking big meals together and playing drinking games in the evenings.

But then the reality caught up with them and Monday evening came and everyone started packing. The whole mood changed. You were complaining to Erik about not wanting to go back to the city and the heat and the responsibilities.

"I get it, but the more you complain, the harder it'll be to connect back tomorrow. I can help you pack, if you want." Erik suggested as he glanced at his watch.

"No, it's fine."

Erik walked downstairs with his suitcase and sat on it as he waited in the entryway.

"Where's your better half?" Freydis asked as she sat down on her suitcase next to him.

"Upstairs complaining about not wanting to leave." He chuckled.

"I can't wait to get back to the city. There is a concert I'm dying to go to this Friday."

"Same. I'm so excited to return home, even with the heatwave...I really don't like living out of the suitcase."

"Hey Ivar, can you check on Miss Always Complaining upstairs? I fear she just unpacked everything in protest." Erik joked as he saw Ivar going up the stairs.

You were staring at the folded clothes and grimacing when a knock on the door startled you.

"Geez Erik, I'm almost done, okay?" You called at the door, but then Ivar opened it and you sighed.

"It's just you."

"Thanks for that." Ivar laughed and folded his arms over his chest, observing your pouty packing.

"Sorry...it's just...I really don't like the idea of going back to work." You sighed, leaning back on the bed.

"I know. You hadn't had a break in over 9 months, minus Christmas." He walked in the room, sitting next to you on the floor.

"I really needed this..." you gestured at the house. "but I'm still so tired and the idea that I'll have to log back in tomorrow is making me nauseous."

"Do you want to stay?" Ivar asked as he observed you.

"No...I can't, you went through so much trouble to organize the air taxi and everyone took their vacations...I can't ask anyone to stay."

"Well you're not asking. I'm asking. And I'm only asking you." You met his eyes. "If you say you need more, we can make that happen. We just call our bosses and ask for a few more days. They'll manage without us."

"You'll stay too?" You asked surprised.

"Someone has to make sure you don't get into trouble." Ivar laughed.

"I think you must've us confused. I'm the one that keeps you away from trouble, not the other way around." You laughed as well.

"Hey, you two," Torvi's voice came booming through the hallway but she stopped talking and smiled as her head poked through the door and she saw you two sitting on the floor laughing. "How about you two move your butts to the taxi and continue your conversation there."

"We're staying for a few more days." Ivar replied simply, smiling at Torvi.

"Alone?" Torvi's eyebrows fused with her hairline. "I mean Erik and Freydis aren't staying with you?"

"I haven't asked Erik...but he made it clear he doesn't want to stay..." You shrugged your shoulders.

"And Freydis wants to go to a concert." Ivar added.

"Well...okay then. Have fun." Torvi smirked as she walked away. Maybe this time alone will finally make you realize that you are with wrong partners.

As she arrived downstairs without the two missing pieces Erik and Freydis wondered where you were.

~Freydis & Ivar~

"What do you mean you're staying?" Freydis asked, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at him.

"She needs this, I told you that I'm worried about her."

"She's an adult, I'm pretty sure she doesn't need you to take care of her. Besides, I really want to go to that concert I've been telling you about for months now."

"And I told you I don't want to go. I thought we agreed that you're going to go with your friends." Ivar sighed. He had this conversation for what feels like 10000 times.

"Yeah, but I wanted to sleep at your place."

"I can give you the keys if that's the issue."

"You're really going to leave me alone for the whole week?" Freydis was getting annoyed.

"Are you suggesting I leave my friend of 10 years alone in the middle of nowhere so that I wait for you one night to get home after a party?" Ivar asked incredulously.

"I guess it's not a discussion, is it? Enjoy your time away from me." Freydis glared and walked away. Ivar pinched the bridge of his nose.

~Erik & you~

"Look, I get that you're tired, but avoiding going back to work won't make it magically disappear..." Erik tried to persuade you.

"Erik, we've been through this. I'm stressed and I need a break."

"You just had a break." Your boyfriend pointed out confused.

"Two days is not a break."

"It was a break for me."

"Well I'm not you. Also our jobs are significantly different, so I'd appreciate it if you'd stop disregarding something that you have no idea about." You bit back at him. You hated having this conversation. Erik went in to hug you, but you pushed him away.

"You're right, maybe it'll be good if you took some time away from the city and relaxed." He said stiffly and kissed your cheek, before walking away.

After everyone left the house felt quiet and empty.

"What put you in a sour mood?" You asked as you studied Ivar's frowning face.

"How about we don't talk about it?" He suggested and plopped down on the couch. You sat next to him and together you sat in silence for a few minutes.

"I didn't mean for you to be quiet." Ivar's head resting on the sofa turned to you.

"I know. I don't wanna talk either. Can we watch TV and then go to sleep. I promise I'll be better company tomorrow." You gave him a haphazard smile.

"Erik?" Ivar asked. You nodded.

"Freydis?" You asked a few seconds later. Ivar nodded. You sighed and Ivar turned on the TV. You ended up watching a romantic comedy The Lost City and laughed throughout the movie and continued with Modern Family, both of you falling asleep somewhere in the middle of Season 2, completely exhausted.

When Ivar woke up the next morning completely stiff, the first thing he needed to do was stretch and the cracking of his bones woke you up.

"This was the perfect place to sleep." You giggled and yawned at the same time.

"I think this means we're old." He sighed as his back cracked.

"You're old, my bones are still fine." You joked, but when you stood up and stretched everything started cracking.

"Yup, that's the sound of a young person." Ivar joked.

It was nice spending time alone with Ivar again. Since the relationship with Freydis became more serious - when he told her he loved her, it seemed to you as though she has been permanently glued to Ivar.

For the next 5 days Ivar spoiled you, he let you sleep in even though he is usually up at 6 am and he made sure pancakes were always waiting for you when you woke up.

"You don't have to make me pancakes, Ivar. I'm sure there are better things for you to do than wait for me to get up." You said on your second day.

"You could just say thank you, you know." Ivar grinned at your happy expression.

"Thank you." You smiled sweetly at him.

"I really don't mind making pancakes. Besides they make you so happy that if I didn't make them, I'd feel guilty."

"They do make me really happy." You giggled and cut a big chunk of a Nutella stuffed pancake.

After the clean-up you made your way to the small beach and enjoyed the recluse from the heat that the soft Atlantic breeze provided. You were finally nearing the end of the book you have been reading for the last 7 months, when Ivar reappeared from somewhere holding two ice-creams and offered you the lemon flavoured one.

Humming your thank you, you pounced on the ice cream, hoping for the internal cool-down of your body. Glancing at Ivar he gulped down the ice cream - like he always did and you shook your head, focusing your attention on the book again.

"Ugh...brain freeze." Ivar shuddered and held his temples.

"That would imply you have a brain..." You replied, not glancing away from your book. You could feel his glare on you and you couldn't help but grin. Looking up, you only caught a glimpse of him leaning over and smearing his ice cream on your nose.

"Nose freeze." He laughed as you shrieked at the cool ice.

After the sun weakened you went to the water to cool down and finally swim for a bit. Ivar had a very different strategy of entering the water - while you ran in and dove head first, he liked to take his time.

"Hey, grandpa Grumpy, are you coming in or not?" You called from a few feet away, droplets of ocean water dripping down your forehead.

"Screw you, it's so cold!" Ivar called at you, slowly making progress by splashing a bit of water on his body to get accustomed to the change in temperature. A wicked smile crossed your lips and you dove underneath the water surface, swimming towards him and reappearing right in front of him.

"Boo." You grinned.

"I get why your parents call you Mermaid." Ivar smiled at you. You perched up at the shoreline, the top part of your body out of the water and the lower part submerged.

"When I was little my favourite fairytale was The Little Mermaid. And I thought that if I just stay in the water long enough, I'd grow a tail. So I would swim and dive and wait for my tail to finally appear but my parents always forcefully removed me from the water because my lips turned blue and they were scared for me." Smiling at the memory you gazed at the vast ocean. "I really thought that if I just tough it out, I'd finally get my wish. That's why they still call me Little Mermaid." Your eyes focused on Ivar again who was now turned towards you and sporting a soft smile.

A loud curse tore from his throat as you splashed water at him.

"You're such a baby. The water is not even that cold." You laughed.

"You just wait. I'll make you pay."

"Only if you can catch me." You stuck your tongue out at him and dove back in the water.

Your battle continued in the water with both of you splashing and dunking each other. You were so loud that in the end only the two of you remained in the water while everyone else packed their bags and left.

Giggling like the two idiots that you were, you made your way back to the house to make dinner and watch the series again.

🌊 🌊 🌊 🌊 🌊 🌊 🌊 🌊 🌊 🌊 🌊 🌊 🌊 🌊 🌊 🌊 🌊 🌊 🌊 🌊 🌊

"We're going back tomorrow." Ivar pointed out as you watched Modern Family. Burying your face into a pillow, you groaned.

"Don't spoil our last day here."

"I've been wanting to ask you something for a while now...this might be the last chance I'll get."

Pausing the show you turned to him, crossing your legs under you, ready for a 'real talk'. You motioned for him to continue.

"You know your opinion means a lot to me..." Ivar paused and you slowly nodded. "I noticed a few things recently and I wanted to ask you what you thought about Freydis?" Searching his eyes, you were surprised by the question.

"She's okay. I mean I wouldn't call her my friend, but I don't mind her." You shrugged your shoulders.

"Okay, but I want to hear your opinion on her with me."

"As long as you're happy, I'm happy." You forced a smile on your face.

"That doesn't answer my question." Ivar rolled his eyes.

"I don't think my opinion is needed here. You're the one dating her, so what I think has no value."

"But when you say things like that, it makes me think you really don't like her."

"Why do you need to hear what I think, especially if you think I have a not so great opinion of her?"

"Because if this relationship will be long-term, I don't want to lose you, because deep down you don't like her." Ivar averted his eyes from you. "You mean so much to me. We've been friends for such a long time and no relationship is worth compromising that. So, please, tell me what you think."

Running your fingers through your scalp and sighing, you observed him.

"Ugh, fine. I think she's kind of rude, selfish, opinionated bordering on judgy and controlling." Ivar remained quiet. "But my opinion of your girlfriend shouldn't be a factor in your relationship. I only experience a fraction of her and I have no way of knowing how she is when you're alone. Our friendship is not going to end because I might not be the biggest fan of her. I promise." You smiled.

"She is very opinionated, isn't she?" He laughed a few silent moments later.

"Very much so. You know I have no problem with that in general, but on Sunday I couldn't get even a word in when she went on a rampage on the meat industry. And when anyone wanted to say something she just disregarded everything or refused to listen."

"I remember and then everyone just started talking about other things and she was insulted." Ivar mused. You scratched your temple at that, looking away from him and gathering the courage.

"Since we're on the subject...care to share your thoughts on Erik?" You met his eyes. It was his turn to be uncomfortable.

"He's okay."

"But...?" You continued for him, making him sigh.

"He's not exactly the guy I thought you'd end up dating."

"Meaning what?"

"Look this is just somethings I picked up on and I might be exaggerating...but he tends to disregard you and your worries, he's manipulative, he doesn't get your humor and he has a ridiculously high opinion of himself."

You slowly nodded.

"You know I've been having the feeling that he's trying to manipulate me sometimes..." You felt a pang in your heart.

"You're not an easy person to manipulate."

"I thought you'd be with a different kind of person too..." You finally said and Ivar's heart skipped a beat.

Thank you for reading! 💙🥰

The GIFs are not mine - they belong to the amazing creators 🙏😊

I'm back at the Ivar x Reader train and this time with a long story 😁 I'm trying to get a few stories out these days because I'm leaving in 2 days for a month and I have no idea how much time I'll have for writing during the trip 🙈 but I am so excited, 5 weeks away from here and with my favourite people 💙🥰

This is me when I tell people I'm going for 5 weeks 🤭😁👇

#alex hogh andersen #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar imagine #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar ragnarsson imagine #ivar ragnarsson x reader #moder ivar #vikings #modern vikings #fanfic #short story #him and i #accidental series

[shannygoatgruff]

Great conversation with a reader

Please don’t ever think you’re offending me by giving me your feelings on a character or something that happens in a story!  I’m the first one to yell at the TV, “You bitch!”  or “OMG, I can’t believe she did that!  What the fuck were they thinking!”  To me, it means you’re engaged.  It makes me happy because I’ve captivated you and made you feel something for my characters!

I love having conversations about the characters and what it was about them that you did/didn’t like.  How the chapter made you feel and where you thought it was going or what you didn’t see coming.  It makes me feel like I’ve done my job as a story teller.  

Unless you’re just blatantly being mean and saying things about me personally like “You suck.”, then I’ve got a pretty thick skin.  Keep the comments coming!  

#my brother's keeper #moder ivar #modern hvitserk #ivar ragnarsson #hvitserk ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok fic #hvitserk fanfiction #hvitserk lothbrok #shannygoatgruff #shannygoat #shannyland

[alexhandersenx]

There’s no one to save me

Ivar/Reader (Modern AU)

A/N: Hi everyone! First and most important thing, HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE!!💕🎉🎂 @flowers-in-your-hayr I want to wish you all the best on this day, I hope you enjoy this day as much as possible and hope this can make it a bit better! This year may not have been our best birthdays but next year we’ll celebrate them twice! You know I really admire your work but much more as a person! Thank you for always being so so nice, you’re great!💖

Second, here it is, me and my shitty writing. This is the first time I ever write anything (you’ll see) but a lovely little bird came and told me about this amazing surprise (@maggiescarborough​ 💖) and I couldn’t refuse. This is the moodboard I chose bc when I asked Gabi about it, I wrote more of a mini fic than a request (sorry about that, honey😅) so I thought it’ll be easier since I already have an idea.

And finally, to say that this can be considered as the first chapter of a small fic???, Idk,  if you want to read something else, I will continue it and if not, it can stay as a imagine. (Any feedback you want to give is always welcomed and will help me in the future!)

Okay that’s all, I think. Now I'll shut my mouth and let you guys read in peace😊

All credits to this amazing moodboard for the birthday girl @flowers-in-your-hayr​

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: First time writing (biggest warning), mention of death and suicide, cursing, drug dealing, a bit of angst, English not being my mother tongue. (I’m not sure if something else😅).

There you were, (Y/N) (Y/LN), facing the most important case you had encountered in your professional career, which, to tell the truth, was not very long. You were 24 years old and you were a policewoman at the local police station on a small island called Samsø, which together with some others as Læsø, Anholt and Sjælland were known as the 'Kattegat Islands'.

You started there when you were 22, with a lot of effort and after years of dedication, yes, it may sound like a joke, since you were very young, but since your father passed away, you decided to follow in his footsteps. He had become chief of police and worked in what was now your office. His death occurred unexpectedly, one day he went to work and didn't come back, your mother and you didn't know anything, but he had been working on a drug-related case for a long time, and they didn't clarify anything for you after his death either, justifying that it was a case of high danger and a secret file.

When your father died, you were given the belongings he was carrying on the day of his death. You didn't find anything out of the ordinary, just his watch, which had his initials on it, the car keys and his wallet, in which he carried the usual: some money, credit cards and a picture of  your mother and you as a child. From one of the compartments of the wallet, a small fragment of a photo was sticking out. It was very enlarged, only a small part of the face could be seen, it looked like a man, but his face didn't sound familiar to you and besides the fragment was very damaged, so you didn't give it much importance. Although you were intrigued to know the reason for that fragment in your father's wallet and you wanted to know the identity of that person, unfortunately you couldn't do anything about it. You put the items back in the bag and kept it in a drawer that you knew you wouldn't open often since it was with the rest of his belongings.

After this incident, you and your mother faced a difficult time when living at home without him was almost impossible. After a not very long period, you were able to return to your daily life and continued, but however, your mother did not get back on her feet, she went into a great depression. You tried psychologists at first and slowly it looked like she was getting better, but it seems she only did it to fall into an even bigger black hole.

From then on, you contacted a psychiatrist, after a year watching your mother was consumed with sadness you couldn't stand it any longer, even though she was resistant to taking medication you couldn't do anything else. She had been going to the psychiatrist for some time and the truth was that it wasn't going as you expected, your mother had a very negative attitude. She tried to avoid medication when you didn't force her, and for that reason none of the treatments worked.

You were desperate, time was passing, and you didn't know what to do anymore, until one day when you came home and you found your mother breathing very lightly and not responding to any kind of stimulus. She had decided to take her own life with a bottle of pills, yes, how ironic. When she was taken to the hospital, the doctors told you that her vital signs were very bad, the intake of medication had to be over six hours ago, and this had already affected a large part of the system. It was very difficult for her to survive, so much so that she couldn't.

21 years, just 21 years when you were left alone in the world, when everyone was getting drunk and having a hangover and throwing up the next morning, you were there struggling to get where you were today.

Although you couldn't have reached that point without the unconditional support of your father's great friend, Officer Heahmund. He had been like a second father to you, the only one you could lean on when these events occurred. Both he and his wife Anne and their little twins always had a place for you.

You could say you'd been investigating the case for a year and it was huge, really huge. Both you and your colleagues had reached an impasse, you couldn't get anything new, so you decided to take the reins and make a proposal... raid the shelter where the organization was hiding. You had managed, after a long time of tracking them down, to find out that every Thursday at 11.30 p.m. they went out to do business. If you calculated it perfectly, you could set up an ambush, surround the perimeter with your agents strategically, and force your way in, so you could examine the interior for clear, incriminating evidence and wait for them to come back and finally catch them and finish the damn case. From that point on, the game would begin.

Ivar Lothbrook, or also known as Ivar the Boneless, was the person you were chasing. Known to be the leader of the organization. Information about him was quite scarce, the son of a bitch knew how to remain anonymous, you didn't even know what he looked like. Although he also took part in the weekly excursions, he never got out of the vehicle they were in and you didn't dare get close enough to the shelter to see them leave, just as a precaution, so as not to spoil the case. All you knew was that the nickname he had earned was due to a disease he suffered from that made him unable to walk, Osteogenesis Imperfecta.

But you did know something else about his brothers, who were in charge of leading the band when they were doing field work and his brother Ivar was not there. There were three more brothers, the elder Ubbe, the second Hvitserk and the last Sigurd. You had pictures of them, which you had studied to a tee, and they didn't have any kind of background, something that caught your attention because in all these bands it's something common, but it seems that they were playing clean.

Tomorrow would be the big day and you had no margin for error. You decided to leave it at that, not think about it anymore. You opened a bottle of wine and ordered dinner at your favourite restaurant. You were going to enjoy that night quietly before going into action.

That night you practically didn't rest, your head didn't stop thinking and you were fighting against it for a long time, until finally you were victorious, being able to sleep. You promised yourself that it wouldn't be the only thing you would be victorious in.

The sound of the alarm woke you up, it was very early, although there were still hours to go, you had to be ready and needed to do certain things before preparing. You had arranged to meet at 8pm at the police station, you would go over the plan and wait until 10.30pm to put the plan into action. The day went away, you had gone out to buy some things that you needed, you had done some sport to clear your mind and you had taken a bath for an hour and a half which helped to relax each of your muscles that had been in constant tension for several days.

You got out of the shower, you started to fix yourself and for a moment you looked in the mirror, from bottom to top, and you looked into your eyes, you saw your father, you saw him in you.

- “Ivar, Ivar, what little freedom you have left” - You said in a defiant voice as you kept looking at yourself and feeling sure that everything would go as you planned.

What you didn't consider at the time is that in a game you don't always win, and even less when you don't know your opponent.

A phone call took you out of your thoughts, you hesitated for a few seconds before reacting, you went into the kitchen and picked up the phone:

- “Hi, (Y/N) here”.

- “Hello, sweetheart, how are you?” Your boss asked with some concern in his voice.

-  “I'm doing good, getting ready to leave soon. Anything happened?”

-  “No, nothing, I just wanted to remind you, that you still have time to stop this, I can send another partner, I don't want you to do this out of obligation” - said Heahmund, with some hesitation.

- “Heahmund, we've talked about this a million times, I'm gonna take care of it. We've gone over the plan every day; we've looked at alternatives in case the first option doesn't work out and you have an expert in infiltrating other people's homes in charge of the plan... What can go wrong? Trust me, before you can tell, we're in your backyard drinking beers with Anne and the girls, celebrating together as a family, while Ivar the Boneless is rotting in jail” - You said with certainty

- “Ever since you were a little girl I've always admired that about you: Determined, brave and a fighter, which has always made you achieve everything you set out to do - he answered with a broken voice” - I just wanted to wish you the best of luck in the world now that no one is around. See you in a bit, Agent 007.

As he spoke you noticed some concern in his voice, was Heahmund afraid of the mission?... Impossible, he was known for his courage and dedication but in this situation,  you could not avoid that this insecurity that you did not feel for a long time will hit you again.

Since the death of your father you had changed, you had become steel, as you said, you had no heart for anyone, you had focused so much on getting ahead and getting what you had in mind that you had forgotten one very important thing, being a teenager. And now that time was gone.

Still, you burst out laughing when he called you Agent 007

- “Thank you, Jack Bauer” - you said, playing along, referring to those movies and action shows you loved to watch together when you were younger.

You hung up and then felt a sense of emptiness and… fear? No, you weren't going to let that happen. You certainly knew that you had to occupy your mind at that moment, or you would go crazy. So, you connected your phone to the speaker and put on your favourite playlist and time passed with you getting ready until it was time to leave. You took the bike keys, a beautiful Harley-Davidson and got going.

When you arrived at the police station your colleagues and Heahmund were already there, you went over the plan and waited for the exact time to start.

It was 11:15, the game had begun. You were about to head for the first stop on your mission. The aim in this phase was to park in the surroundings of the main highway, where Ivar and his people had to go through, so you could check that everything was in order, and that the usual Thursday trip would take place. You arrived before time, it was night and the highway was slightly illuminated by distant lanterns. The place had been carefully chosen as there were certain points where you could wait in stealth.

As time passed, you became more and more nervous and couldn't help it. There was something in your head that wouldn't let you concentrate. Heahmund noticed it and said:

-  “What's going on in that little head, (Y/N)?” - He said in a sweet tone.

-  “Hmm...nothing, I'm fine” - you whispered as you looked for his glance and smiled.

-  “Come on, (Y/N), I know you too well to know that something is bothering you”

- “Ugh, I hate you Heahmund… what if they don't come, if for whatever reason today doesn't happen” - you said losing your nerve a little

-  “Hey, hey, hey and this? Where's my little fighter? They're going to do it, you'll see, and before dawn they'll all be behind bars”

- “How can you be so sure?”

- “I just know” - he said with confidence and came up to you kissing you on the head

You needed it, you needed someone telling you that everything would be fine, with your 24 years you were tired of playing grown-up, strong and lonely. You had always needed that love, but that side of you was known only by Heahmund and he had always been there to give it to you.

You did not have much more time to get melancholy, it was happening, Ivar and his people could be seen from afar. They were organized in three black armoured cars and four motorcycles guarding the sides. You saw how they passed before you, in a heartbeat everything you had feared had happened, the only part of the plan that did not fall on you had worked. Now everything depended on you. You waited a few minutes and both of you, along with several patrol cars, set off. Some of your colleagues stayed in the place so that they could control when they returned and thus warn those of you who were going to the shelter.

Second stop on the mission, the shelter. Ivar and his people owned an apartment building where they used to stay permanently, it was on the outskirts of town, in the middle of nowhere. You had left your vehicles a few meters behind, also hidden, so as not to cause any noise. You found yourselves walking quietly in the dark with your guns in hand, towards an old building. When you reached the right distance, you appreciated the immensity of the building with enough housing to accommodate several families. The facade was neglected, yellowish-coloured, and you could see the doors of each house, white and many of them peeling and battered. Plus, right next door was what looked like a big warehouse. Everything was surrounded by metal fences.

Your companions began to take their positions as you had planned and you and Heahmund continued to approach, until you reached the side of the fence so that you could climb without attracting attention.

You looked at Heahmund and nodded just as you turned to move forward alone you noticed how he grabbed your arm, your heart racing as he said:

- “I'll keep an eye on everything that happens, the moment I hear something out of the ordinary, even if you don't say the code word, we'll get in and get you out”

- “Damn, Heahmund, you scared me... yes, I know, don't worry” - you said losing your patience a little

And now it was time, holding your SIG Sauer firmly in your hands and checking for the last time that the microphone you were holding in the middle of your bra was properly placed, you were ready to move forward. You approached the front door of the warehouse. If there was anything interesting to look for, it would be there. You pulled the lock pick out of your pocket and picked the lock easily. You opened the door a couple of inches, at that moment your heart felt like it was going to come out of its socket. You checked that the light inside was off, you continued to open it completely and you went inside quietly. It was all dark, you stood still for a few seconds to pay attention to all the sound around you. You could only hear the “tick tock” of a clock. You looked at the wall for a light switch, found it and turned it on. Several fluorescent lights illuminated the big warehouse, some of them failing and blinking making the place even more scary. For a few seconds the light blinded you because of the contrast of the dark night to which your eyes had been used so far. You took a quick look, ducked your head and whispered into the microphone:

- “Clear”

You raised your head and for the first time you stopped to look around. It was immense, the walls were covered with high shelves where there were pots of all kinds, some were full and some were empty, there were boxes, masks, safety goggles, gloves and all kinds of chemical devices. There was a long table on the side with many chairs, some lying on the floor, others on top of the table... that place reminded you of a typical high school lab from which the most you could do was decant a mixture. You were surprised... they were cooking drugs there... "Well, what a dump" you said to yourself; you thought everything would be much more careful and not such a messy place as that.

And in the middle of all that mess, at the end of the room you found a big wooden desk and a big black leather armchair behind it, it seemed that that little space didn't belong in the room, it was all tidy and on the table the only thing that was there was some papers, small pictures and office material. You approached and saw some maps with certain points marked... What were these points? You thought that it could be some meeting place or points of sale, you took out the PDA and uploaded the photo to the police station network.

- “I think I found something, I just uploaded it to the network” -You said in a whisper

You didn't have any answers, nor did you notice much of it, since you got caught up in a huge painting right behind the desk. In it appeared a beautiful young woman with long blonde hair. It was just a painting, but you could feel the elegance of that woman in it. Next to her was a taller man who looked slightly older, shaven and with a long beard with white locks. He was in a suit and showed a great presence just like the woman. But there was something that caught your attention, the look of him, his intense blue eyes seemed to pierce you as if you were seeing them in person. The wrinkles at the corner of his eyes betrayed his maturity. You stared for a while, curious, until you came back to reality, took a quick look again to see if anything could be useful, but nothing. So, you retraced your steps and headed for the door. You tried to communicate with your colleagues again:

- “Guys, nothing else around here, I'm going back to my starting position” - You whispered again.

And at that moment you froze, you were listening to yourself double and your "double" was coming right out the door. Time stopped for you, you didn't understand anything, and the only thing you could think of was to hide behind the door. This one opened little by little and you started to listen how people came in... one, two, three... you were counting the steps to be able to calculate the number of people, you lost the count to the fifth since such a quantity would be impossible to face and come out victorious.

- “SHHHH, shut up... do you hear it?” - said a male voice you didn't recognize.

What you could hear was your breathing shaking through a walkie... at that moment the world fell apart. A police walkie in the hands of those assholes, something hadn't gone right, and you didn't know what.

- “Yeah, it smells weird too, doesn't it?” - said another male voice, but this one sounded much more ironic.

- “I don't know Ivar I don't smell anything... what do you smell?” - Said a third voice, the closest so far to your position.

- “Mmm I don't know it's a disgusting smell, something like... police”

At that very moment they closed the door, leaving you exposed. You saw five men, but you didn't have time for much else as the one closest to you, that you came to recognize was Ubbe, grabbed your arm and made a quick movement blocking it, causing your gun to fall to the ground. He drew you to his body by placing your back to him and holding your neck with his arm, doing a lock around it to immobilize you. You looked ahead, saw a young man slowly approaching you and examining you from bottom to top until your eyes connected, deep blue and intimidating gaze. To tell the truth, he was a very attractive guy, but that idea was automatically erased when you remembered who he was. Something stirred in your stomach, you didn't know if it was fear, hate or a mixture. Slowly a cynical smile appeared in his mouth. Definitely, it was disgust what you had noticed in your stomach seconds ago. You could have tried to get out of that grip, but you didn't see the point, they were five men over six feet. It was impossible, to get out of there. Ubbe kept pressing his arm against your neck, causing your senses to slowly fade away.

- “Well, well, and I thought this wasn't going to be fun" said the boy in front of you in a hesitant voice. - Nice to meet you, I am Ivar Lothbrook - he said extending his hand

That was the last thing you could see and hear before you lost total control over your body and thus your senses.

The game had started... like a shitty one.  

#vikings fic #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar #ivar the boneless #modern ivar #ivar imagine #ivar lothbrok #ivar lothbrook x reader #moder ivar imagine #ivar the boneless fic #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar lothbrook fic #ivar lothbrook imagine

[thearcticgal]

Cut Throat Business

*Not my gif

Warnings: Language

There are no friends in the business. This thought hung over your head as you sat in your office leaning back into your chair and feet propped up on your desk, you watched from the corner of your eye as a red light blinked on your office phone indicating your assistant Carmen was trying to get your attention, this was odd considering you had just finished sealing a new deal with an exporting company in Spain and now had an open agenda for the rest of the day.

Your freshly manicured finger tapped at the blinking red button and sighed “Yes, Carmen?”

“Miss Jimenez, Ivar, Ubbe, and Hvitserk from Lothbrok & Associates are in the lobby here to see you, I’ve tried telling them multiple times that they need an appointment to see you and they refuse to cooperate, should I call security?” Carmen asked with irritation coated in her voice.

With an amused smirk now forming on your lips, you waved your hand slowly and sighed “Let them in, Carmen and please make sure I have no further interruptions.”

“Right away, Miss Jimenez.” With a simple click of the phone indicating she was on her way you leaned further into your seat and spun around once.

There was a single knock indicating Carmen was coming in and you watched as she leads Lothbrok & Associates inside your spacious office. The three brothers wore specially tailored three-piece suits and yet you noticed small details separating them from each other in some little way such as different colored handkerchiefs, different colored suits, and even different buttons on their blazers. The three brothers appeared to be in sync as they took their seats but each kept their focused gaze on you the same way a lion circles its prey waiting to strike in any given moment. You were used to this scare tactic, after running your father’s billion-dollar company for five years now you had learned that men did these futile things to feel some form of superiority and form dominance but frankly you were sick of these pathetic attempts.

“Gentlemen, how can I help you?” You asked while getting up from your seat and moving to your bar to pour yourself a drink, you knew you were going to need it by the determined expressions all three brothers wore on their faces. With your back still turned you heard the eldest of the group speak up as you pour yourself a glass of mezcal.

“Miss Jimenez, to put it bluntly, we at Lothbrok & Associates have been going over the numbers this year and we’d like to buy you guys out,” Ubbe stated nonchalantly as he leaned back into his chair with his hands folded.

An amused smirk tugged at your red-coated lips as you turned around with mezcal still in hand, your sparkly Jimmy Choo heels clicked on the wooden floors as you walked back to your desk in front of the three men sitting before you, they all seemed transfixed on your next move at their sudden proposal.

“Mr. Lothbrok it’s funny you mention this proposal considering, Bjorn has also offered to buy out Jimenez Corporated.” You mentioned innocently as you sipped your mezcal, your dazzling honey brown eyes watched as all three men shifted in their seats at the sudden declaration of their competition trying to outmaneuver them. If there was one thing your father had taught you when had handed off the company to you it was that men were foolish and between themselves, they would kill one another.

“Mija, these men are going to constantly underestimate you but if you pit them against each other, you can watch them cut each other’s throats and ruin their empires to ashes as you sit safely from a distance and further yourself from the carnage.”

“How much is my brother offering?” Ubbe asked curiously as he sat up in his seat, a now nervous expression coated in his demeanor.

“I’d rather not say, but Mr. Lothbrok I can assure you it’s quite a sum of money. Perhaps, I may even take him in on his offer and retire to Mexico like my father, maybe even buy a few beach houses by the Riviera Maya.” You mused innocently while tapping your freshly french manicured finger against your chin.

Ubbe shifted yet again in his seat and cleared his throat, never before had you seen the eldest brother so nervous. At least not since that one incident involving both his brother Hvitserk and his wife Margarethe at that very public gala a few years back. You nearly relished at his vulnerability, but being the skilled manipulative woman you were, you coated your enthusiasm carefully and calculated your next move. “But before any final decision can be made I should really just give it a few days, perhaps I’ll decide what offer to take at the upcoming gala. Will you and your brothers be attending?” You asked while downing the last bit of mezcal and eyeing you competitors.

“We’ll be in attendance, I’m sure that we can look at our numbers again and figure something out and provide you with a much suitable option for Jimenez Corporated,” Ubbe answered eagerly in hopes of catching your attention.

You smiled softly at his pathetic efforts "We here at Jimenez Corporated would appreciate it, we admire how far Lothbrok & Associates have grown and expanded and we’re sure that you will do right by us in any potential outcome.“

Your earnest response seemed to catch both his and Hvitserk’s attention and you could tell they were eating up your words up like honey, not seeming to realize that you would sell them out in seconds if given the chance.

"But unfortunately gentlemen, I hate to cut our meeting so short but as you can imagine I have a business to tend to, but I’ll see you at the gala correct?” You smiled flirtatiously while pushing a hand through your soft brown tresses.

Ubbe and Hvitserk smiled and nodded and both stood up in sync, all except Ivar, he had stood up at his own pace slowly and kept a stoic expression towards you. You had noticed this the moment he had stepped into your office. You were well aware of how he was, he wasn’t as easy to manipulate as his brothers. Ivar had always been strategic and cutthroat when it came to business and it didn’t help that he didn’t trust anyone. Fortunately for you, it was Ubbe who primarily took lead in negotiations and major transactions such as this. Convince him to start a war and all hell would break loose between him and Bjorn and Jimenez Corporated would be safe from the crossfire. You pressed a large button on your desk that automatically opened your office doors and showed the three Lothbrok brothers out, Hvitserk lingered a little slower behind his brothers and turned to you suddenly.

“You know Miss Jimenez if you’re not doing anything this Friday perhaps you and I could talk business at some nice big restaurant.” He smiled flirtatiously and eyeing the way your white Herve Leger dress hugged your body perfectly.  

“How sweet of you Mr. Lothbrok but, I’m afraid my fiance wouldn’t quite like that.” You feigned innocently in attempt to cover the eyeroll you desperately wanted to do in response.

He shot you a smirk that almost seemed intrigued by the possible obstacle, but you were no fool to Hvitserk’s flirtatious advances his womanizing ways were well known to its competitors. That whole fiasco with Ubbe’s wife and him had downgraded his position within the family and now he had only served as a liaison and most possibly a rat, spying for any inside intel or vulnerability by sleeping with any female from a company.

“I’ll take that as a rain check.” He flirtatiously smiled shooting you a wink and quickly following behind his brothers.

Now dropping the facade you roll your eyes in disgust and you make sure to slam the door after them and find your way back to your seat. You leaned into your cushioned seat and gazed out your window, you considered if you really wanted to wage this war. A major advantage was that if you were to wage this war and win your company could be at the top, but a con was that if you were to get your hands this dirty you’d have to keep in mind that there was the possibility that you could run your company into the ground. The risk was severe but the reward was greater, so you decided to go all-in and cut the throats of every Ragnarsson and Lothbrok in sight and hopefully, the odds would be in your favor.

Tagged: @youbloodymadgenius​

Author’s Note: Updates and new stories may be delayed for a bit due to me registering for University for the first time. Also I just made a ko-fi due to me breaking my glasses and every little counts and it would mean the world. If you want to be tagged for the next chapter or any Ivar stories in the future comment below and let me know thanks!!!!

#ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #vikings ivar #ivar x oc #moder au ivar #vikings #vikings history channel #vikings tv show #vikings fandom #history vikings #arcticgal #thearcticgal #arcticgal fanfic #arcticgal writing #arcticgal fanfiction

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

Hjem(løs)  - Ivar x OC - Modern AU - Part 2

*Hjem(løs) = Home(less)

Synopsis: It's Juleaften and Silje walks home from a late Christmas shopping spree. On her way back to her apartment, she makes an unexpected encounter.

Word count: 8.3k

Part 1 <<< >>> Part 3

MASTERLIST

However, that didn't prevent him from keeping an eye open. Like an invisible guardian making sure nothing bad happened to her, Ivar stayed in the same area as Silje for a while. It was borderline creepy, Ivar was well aware of it, but he felt like he owed her big time, and if the only way he could repay her was to lurk in dark alleys and make sure no creep was following her home, then he would do it. There were worse places in Copenhagen to hang out; Silje's neighbourhood was lively and overall safe - which made him wonder why he felt entitled to become her guardian angel at all, and from what exactly he was trying to protect her, but that was a place he didn't want to let his mind wander.

He had no idea how much longer he could persuade himself that he was only staying here for her sake. Truth is that he could not bring himself to walk away and wave goodbye to the possibility of ever running into Silje again. It had been quite a while since Jul, be he could not move on from their meeting. The need to see her again was strong, though not as strong as Ivar's reason telling him to stay at a distance. He had no right to bust in her door after a month without any explanation. He had no right at all to even talk to her again. He was giving himself headaches from thinking about this too much.

Therefore he remained in his dark alleys and on his isolated benches. Anger bubbled up inside of him whenever he saw her walk by, carelessly strutting home to the tune of some song blasting in her earphones. She didn't notice him – why would she? People don't look at homeless people, and homeless people don't like being looked at. She represented quite the temptation though. On the one hand he was pulled towards her like a magnet, on the other, he knew it would be wrong of him to give in.

It was snowing today. Ivar's fingers were blue and he hadn't felt the tip of his nose in four days. Strangely enough, he still felt good – maybe not fine, but good. There was peace in the air. People were still high off the bliss brought by the winter holidays, and the new year. Not to mention that he remembered how much Silje loved snow. Fuck, he was being ridiculous. She would make fun of him if he said his thoughts out loud. He had to fucking move on and stop nearly interfering with her life again.

So far he hadn't done anything, he hadn't uttered a word as she walked down the street across from his new sleeping bench. He looked up, smiled a little when he saw her mouth the lyrics to a song he couldn't hear, and hid his face in his scarf. As much as it caused his heart sink in his stomach each time he saw her strut by, simultaneously so close and so far out of reach, it still made him feel better to know that she was doing all right. It helped him sleep at night at least.

“Hey! Watch it man!” Someone yelled at him when he accidentally bumped into their shoulder. He had zoned out again. “Fucking hobo!” The other man grumbled in his beard, shooting a nasty glare at Ivar.

Today was not the day to mess with Ivar. As quick tempered as he usually was, tonight was worse and if this guy took so much as a second to think before speaking, he would have kept his mouth shut.

“What? Is the side walk not large enough for you?” Ivar barked back. He was so tired of being treated like a dog with rabies. “Bloody idiot.”

“What did you just say?!” The guy turned around to face Ivar. He was taller and broader than him, but there was no backing out now. It was like a switch that flipped inside Ivar.

“Is your masculinity so feeble that you cross homeless people merely to show off your steroid induced muscles?” Ivar heard his voice snap at the increasingly furious stranger. He couldn't help the cocky smirk on his face just like he couldn't help the scoff that followed his declaration.

It was too late to try and get out of this situation. Ivar had let his frustration and anger take control of his actions and he was about to face the consequences. The man was red in the face and looked about to blow up. Meanwhile Ivar tensed his entire body, ready to receive a blow. After all maybe that is what he wanted, or needed. Nothing like a sucker punch right in the jaw to put one's ideas back in place. If this guy hit hard enough maybe he would knock Silje right out of Ivar's mind.

He had no idea how much he craved a good fight until this very moment. Ivar's hand itched to throw a blow himself. He clenched it into a fist before stretching his fingers again. His knuckles hurt from the cold despite his gloves. He saw it coming and raised his arms in defence when the man's fist was mid-air but it hardly did anything so soften the blow. Clearly, Ivar had underestimated his adversary.

It all went black rather quickly after that.

*

“Skål!” Her friends all cheered, the sound of beer bottles clanking together filling the air.

It was accompanied by heartfelt laughter and the distinctive smell of alcohol. Silje was not a huge fan of beer and only drank one so her friends would stop pestering her about it; now they are already too intoxicated to notice that she was drinking tea. Her palm was held up toward the sky in an attempt to catch a few snowflakes but they melted the second they touched her skin.

The results of the first semester just came out and her friends dragged her to this picnic table in the middle of a park to celebrate. Although it was freezing, the alcohol running in their systems kept them warm enough to keep the party going, attracting the attention of passers-by with their music and loud chatter. Her tea wasn't doing that good of a job at keeping her limbs from getting numb, and neither did her skirt and tights.

“I'm going to head home” she declared only to earn a round of protest and teasing about how early she left. “I'm tired,” Silje objected when one of her classmate slung his arm around her shoulders to try and make her stay. “And cold. You can continue this party without me and I can celebrate in my apartment, wrapped in a warm blanket.”

“You are such a grandma!” Her friend snickered playfully as he shoved her in the arm. “Go, I'll distract them while you flee.”

Before he or anyone else could change their mind and decide to chain on her the bench with a beer in her hand, Silje stood up, gathered her belongings and stuffed them in her backpack as she walked away. While the music of their improvised party faded, Silje turned up the volume of her own and closed her eyes. It was a gentle night, the snow fell steadily and slowly from the sky, the kind of night you spent sitting in front of your window and looking outside.

However Silje had no intention of going home right away to find comfort in the many blankets she owned. As most days, she settled on a part of the city and wandered through the streets in search of - in desperate hope of finding – Ivar. She had regretted her decision of letting him leave the second she saw his dark figure walk away from her building. It was stupid really, but she wanted some kind of assurance to see him again, a means to contact him.

She expected him to wave, or smile, or do something but he merely disappeared in the shadows and from her life. Today was the 27th of January, over a month since the last time she saw him, and already she was beginning to forget what he looked like. The brevity of their encounter, although intense, had left a bitter-sweet taste in her mouth. She felt guilty – for not doing more for him, for not understanding his situation, for not sharing his problems. It was pointless to dwell on these things but here she was, roaming aimlessly through streets she didn't know, at night.

Somehow she knew this would enrage him if he knew – he made it very clear during their conversations that he thought it was reckless and careless for her to walk around at night in dark passageways. This forced a smile on her face and she let out a silent laugh, her hot breath visible in the air. Silje took out her earphones for a second. She thought it might help her find him if Ivar was around but the music and conversations coming out of the bars in this area drowned out any other noise.

She had been walking for half an hour when she decide that it was enough. It was late and cold. She'd look again tomorrow. It was time to head back and hide in these blankets she told her friends about. Someone wolf-whistled and Silje's head whipped to the right to see where it came from. There was a group of four or five boys staring at her. She scrunched up her nose in distaste and ignored them. They protested and called for her but she put her earphones back on.

“Jerks,” she grumbled to herself when even with her music she could hear their shouts.

“Hey!” Someone suddenly grabbed her by the shoulder and jerked her back. “I'm talking to you, bitch!”

As any girl would in her situation, Silje tensed up and her blood ran cold in her veins. Already cold sweat was forming in the nap of her neck – the instinctive response to a man raising his voice at her and being aggressive. She counted to ten in her head to gather herself and calm down. She got this, there was no reason for her to panic, she could handle the situation. There was no room for fear right now, she had to show this jackass that she wasn't some little mouse he could intimidate into talking to him.

After a short moment, Silje felt confident enough to look up and meet his eyes. The way he looked at her made her want to vomit in her mouth. Disgusting. Revolting. Clearly this guy was not familiar with the concept of a woman not being interested.

“And I'm ignoring you, asshole. Are we done stating the obvious?”

It was pretty ballsy and she might regret it but the words were out now, she couldn't take them back. One of the dude's friends whistled as she said that, apparently admiring the nerve she had to talk to him like that.

“What? You think you're too good for me?” The guy snarled, eyeing Silje up and down in a distasteful manner. “You're not even that hot, you should be flattered.”

“Oh be still my beating heart,” she said sarcastically as she rolled her eyes. “There, happy? Let me go now before I scream bloody murder and get the cops on your ass for assault.”

She would do it. She was ready to. At this point sarcasm was merely a defence mechanism. It took all of her concentration not to tremble like a leaf.

“Jeez! Girls nowadays can't take a compliment anymore!” He exclaimed but still let her go.

“You just told me I wasn't even hot, in what world is that a compliment? You need to work on your approach techniques dude.”

He grumbled a few more insults under his breath but he was already stepping back. He was obviously not happy about this defeat but his friends were laughing and telling him she wasn't worth the trouble so he let it slide. When she was sure they left, Silje carefully placed her earphones back on, hands shaking and eyes prickling, and she turned around to resume her walking. Just when she thought she might have to make a detour in case they decided to follow her home, she stumbled on something and almost fell.

She caught herself in extremis by reaching out for the corner of a wall, scratching her hands in the process. A string of curses tumbled down her lips while she rubbed her palm on her coat to get rid of the dirt, then she looked down to see what made her trip. When her eyes fell on the metallic cylinder on the floor, she thought they might pop out of her head.

That she would recognize anywhere. It was her Thermos. The one with the mismatched lid she had given to Ivar a month ago.

“Ivar,” she whispered, hoping against hope. “Ivar!”

On her feet she was before she had the time to think about it, nearly falling once again. Her hand found the Thermos and clung to it for dear life as she stumbled into the alley on her right.

“Ivar you bastard, if you're here say something!” She shouted this time, making sure that the entire neighbourhood heard her. “I swear I'm going to drag your hobo ass out of the hole you're hiding in!”

Her threats mustn't have been very convincing since no one answered, or maybe he simply wasn't here anymore. After a few more seconds of listening intently, one sound stood out of the distant music from the nearby bars. Faint, almost inaudible laughter.

“That the best you got, woman?” The strained but already so familiar voice of Ivar asked from the shadows.

Silje dived down towards the source of the voice and her hands found him before her eyes did. Her fingers grasped at the material of his clothes and Silje did as she promised and dragged him out of the darkness and into the light of the nearest street lamp. She only let go when he groaned.

“Shit, where did you get that strength from?” He asked, a bit out of breath.

Now that she could see his face Silje understood why he sounded in pain. The entire left side of his face was bruised and swelled. He had a black eye and a split lip; the blood had dried on his wounds.

“Don't say anything,” she ordered him, already taking his chin in between her fingers to better examine his beaten face. “You look like a bloody mess.” Her voice was stern but gentle.

“You look beautiful.”

“And you're delirious!” Silje exclaimed, her hand flying up to feel his forehead. “You have a bit of fever. How long have you been here in this state?”

“Few- hours-” he said, short breathed already. “Silje.”

He simply said her name with no intention of saying anything else, but it got her attention at last and she looked into his blue eyes, pleading her. Her hand let go of his chin and she moved it to his shoulder.

“I wanna hug you and punch you so bad right now,” Silje said between her teeth. “Come back with me. I'll fix you up, we're not too far from my apartment.”

“I can't- my legs... fuck. They messed up my legs,” he whined pitifully and winced in pain, his eyes drifting from hers to his legs. “I can't walk.”

“Even if you lean on me?” She asked hopefully. He shrugged but was already trying to stand up, willing to try anything to get out of the gutter he had put himself into. “We only have a couple streets to walk before reaching my place. You can do this.”

The strain was visible on his face etched with agony. Silje's arms were there to support him and help him up, no matter how much bigger he was, she was not about to complain or leave him to his fate. She had looked for him, she had found him, and now she was going to be true to her word and drag his ass back to her apartment, even up the five floors if she had to.

It was a lot harder said than done, but not impossible. She had no means to establish exactly how much pain Ivar was in because he hadn't said a word during their slow progression through the streets. His mind was entirely focused on not screaming or collapsing on the floor. The vein on his temple throbbed menacingly, if that was any indicator of the ache he currently endured. Nothing would have prepared either of them for the trial it represented to climb up so many stairs with only Silje's tiring legs to get to the top.

“Just leave me here, you won't make it with me,” Ivar groaned with difficulty.

“We're almost there, two more floors to go,” she said, completely ignoring his resigned tone. “Quit being a drama queen.”

“You killing me, Silje!”

“Oh is that what I'm doing? Funny because I thought I was once again saving you from the cold harsh world. A little gratitude would be welcome, you know? And I know precisely how you can repay me. I have a monstrous pile of dirty dishes waiting in the sink just for you.”

“This makes me want to stay in the staircase even more,” Ivar sighed, holding his breath each time they ascended another step.

“If you're well enough to make jokes then you're also well enough to climb up a few more steps,” Silje declared confidently. “We've made it this far, Ivar.”

“So stubborn,” he grumbled again though she thought she detected a hint of admiration in his voice, but maybe she was hearing things. “I am not joking, my legs are killing me.”

“Well what do you want me to do about it? I suspect you don't want me to bring you to the hospital, do you?”

He stiffened against her side and glared at her.

“I don't have money to pay for healthcare, you know this.”

“I do, that's why you're going to crash on my couch and I'll call my brother. He'll come and examine you properly. I don't know how to assert the extent of your injuries but he can,” she assured him but it did little to nothing to calm him down, in fact it had the opposite effect.

“Which brother?” He asked warily.

“Ubbe,” Silje managed a laugh even though she was exhausted. “The one you've met.”

“I remember Ubbe,” Ivar huffed.

Suddenly they realised they had made it. Silje's front door was standing right there. No more stairs. Black dots danced before her eyes and sweat trickled down her spine but they had made it.

“I remember the way he almost crushed my hand while shaking it,” Ivar added, a little out of breath but nothing compared to Silje's state of breathlessness and sweatiness.

“That's just his way of saying hello,” she said and with a little wave of the hand to gesture him it was nothing worth getting grey hair over. “I am in strong need of a shower.”

She managed to help Ivar onto the couch, both of them sighing in relief when their seemingly never-ending journey finally ended. She told him that she would call her brother then hop in the shower, and that she was all his after that.

It took a little more time and energy than she expected to convince her brother to get out of bed, grab the crutches they'd given him after his injury and come over to her place, all of this to look at Ivar's legs.

“Ivar? Who's Ivar?” Ubbe had asked, only to remember the moment he said his name. “Oh, the guy from Juleaften? What happened?”

“I don't know yet, okay? Just come, it's important and quite urgent too.”

He complied after two more minutes of convincing, and Silje was finally allowed a moment of peace. She got Ivar a glass of water and a pillow, then took her well-deserved shower. When she opened the front door fifteen minutes later, her hair was still wet, her previous clothes discarded by the bathroom door, and Ivar was grunting on the couch, trying not to move his legs. Their tumultuous journey had woken up the wound, it throbbed and deformed his attractive features into an expression of anger and pain.

“Come with me,” Silje grabbed Ubbe's arm to lead him right in front of Ivar. “It's his legs. I need you to examine him.”

“What are you now, a doctor?” Ivar spat. It was the pain speaking, not him, Ubbe knew better and he simply smirked. “I thought you were a reject soldier.”

“Big mouth, eh?” Ubbe huffed and knelt down by his legs. “Didn't serve you well from what I can see. And no, I'm not a doctor, but soldiers are trained to tend to their companions if something were to happen on the field. Landmine explosion for instance. That shit can blow your legs off.”

“I didn't step on a fucking landmine,” Ivar barked back. “Those assholes beat me up.”

He didn't specify that he provoked them but the siblings shared a look that spoke volumes. They knew he wasn't just randomly attacked. Ivar didn't say anything after that and allowed Ubbe to feel his legs and assert his injuries.

“Are they broken?” Silje asked after a couple minutes, not holding it in anymore.

Ivar hadn't realised how worried she really was up until now. Her foot tapped on the floor at a fast pace, one of her arms rested across her chest while the other held her hand up in front of her mouth. Her eyes did not budge from her brother once while he took a look at Ivar's messed up legs.

“No,” Ubbe said, earning a round of relieved sighs. “Wait before popping the champagne. That was the good news. The bad news is that while I can tell that your legs aren't broken, I can't guarantee that your tibia bones aren't shattered. And worst of all your left knee is out of joint. Did you walk here?”

“Hardly,” Ivar said with a little one-shoulder shrug.

“Well, you must be a tough motherfucker, because that hurts like hell. I can put it back in place but I should warn you that this is usually done under anaesthesia,” Ubbe explained under Silje's increasingly anxious gaze.

He looked Ivar straight in the eye without budging, like a real solider. Ubbe's relaxed demeanour from Juleaften was gone, his face was plain and serious, his mind focused on the task at hand, and no room was left for jokes.

“I can take it,” Ivar assured him.

“Sil,” Ubbe called his sister, waking her from her fear induced trance. “Get him something to bite into, a wooden spoon, a folded towel.”

She did as she was asked without uttering a word and soon came back with what he asked, leaving him to choose which of the two he preferred. Ivar simply grabbed the spoon and put it in his mouth.

“All right, here goes nothing,” Ubbe said, positioning his hands around Ivar's knee. “Silje don't look.”

He didn't need to tell her, she was already putting a conscious effort into staring out of the window instead of looking at the two boys in front of her. The towel would have worked better to muffle Ivar's pained groans and cries. Silje's hand shot up to her mouth and she had to turn around. Tears prickled her eyes but she swallowed them back. There was no time for this, Ivar was the one suffering, she could act like a weak little thing later. Right now she had to get her shit together.

“It's done,” Ubbe declared and after a few more seconds of panting, Ivar took the spoon out of his mouth. It hit the floor with a loud clatter. “He'll need a knee brace. Sil can you get him one?”

She nodded, still shaking.

“Y-yes, I have a friend who had one a few weeks ago, I can ask him.”

“Good. And you-” Ubbe's attention went back to Ivar. “If you don't want to end up at the ER, you have to rest until your bones heal and your muscles recover from the beating. Where do you live? I can drive you back. Do you have someone to take care of you? Because you won't be able to make it through this alone.”

“He does. I'll take care of him,” Silje stated firmly, two puzzled gazes turning to her. “He's staying here.”

“What if he doesn't want to crash on your couch for the following month?” Ubbe replied, pointing at Ivar as though he wasn't here. “Because that's how long I would suggest he doesn't use his bad leg.”

“He'll be fine,” Silje assured her brother.

“Bu-” He started but was interrupted by Ivar.

“I'm homeless, man!” To say that it cast a cold in the room would be minimising this. “The couch is fine.” In the state he was in, anything would have worked, he was tired enough to fall asleep standing. Not that he would be doing much of that from now on.

Ubbe stood up abruptly, almost knocking over the coffee table.

“What the fuck?” He exclaimed, looking at his sister.

“Not now, Ubbe,” Silje sighed and rubbed her face. “Thank you for coming, and for the crutches. We'll talk later, okay?”

“No, not okay, you can't just make me come here in the middle of the night during work week only to have me examine a homeless dude who got into a fight, then tell me you'll have him sleep on your couch and not give me a stellar explanation!”

“It sounds terrible when you put it like that but it's not as shady as it sounds,” she promised him. “Come now.” She gestured him to follow her to the door, away from Ivar's curious ears. “Ivar is my friend. I'm not going to turn my back on him when he's injured.”

“But he is homeless,” Ubbe protested with vehemence as if he was making a valid point. He wasn't.

“That does not define him. Listen, we'll argue tomorrow, okay? I'm tired and I think Ivar has a bit of fever.”

She must have sounded particularly worn out because Ubbe closed his mouth – for now at least – and opened the door. The trained soldier he was recognized the priorities but he would not let her go away with this.

“This conversation is not over-” he told her with a warning finger pointed at her. He pushed his sister to the side and walked up to Ivar who barely managed to open his eyes when Ubbe called him. “And you-” he started sternly. “-I meant what I said. You don't jump around, you don't try to exercise, you don't run, you don't even walk anywhere apart from the bathroom and the kitchen, anything farther than that is too far for you until I say it isn't anymore.” He looked furious but also determined to help him heal. “In case I'm not being clear enough, my sister's bedroom is off limits.” He had whispered the last part for only Ivar to hear – and he did hear it loud and clear.

“Yes sir,” he mumbled in response, barely conscious at this point.

Ubbe walked back to his sister who was still waiting by the door. “Don't post-pone our conversation for too long or I'll have to tell the others.”

Contrary to Ivar though, Silje wasn't about to pass out and wasn't in the mood to get intimidated by her big brother.

“Hvisterk already knows about Ivar anyway. Sigurd wouldn't care, and if Bjorn learns that you let a homeless stranger sleep in my apartment, you'll be the one in trouble. Goodnight brother.” Silje smiled and shut the door before Ubbe could find something else to threaten her with.

Her shoulders slumped down and she leaned against the door just or a few seconds, to catch her breath and get a small break from the intense last hour she had. When she felt she was ready to go at it again, she went back to Ivar, once again put her hand on his forehead and told him to stay awake just a little bit longer – his eyelids were droopy but she didn't want him to fall asleep before changing him and giving him some medicine to reduce the fever. It required another twenty minutes to accomplish these tasks but when she was finally done and Ivar was about to fall asleep in his new dry and warm clothes, she felt rather happy with herself. In an ideal world Ivar would take a shower too but they were both too exhausted for that. Tomorrow would be there soon enough and if they were lucky, by then Ivar's fever would break and his knee wouldn't feel like it was on fire anymore.

“Are we good now?” Ivar mumbled, fighting off sleep as best he could.

“Yes, we're good,” Silje told him, gently pushing some of his hair out of his face. “You can go to sleep. Hopefully you'll feel better tomorrow.”

She had a feeling he was already asleep mid-sentence and didn't even hear the end. A little smile tugged at her lips but it vanished quickly. This reunion was a bitter-sweet one – light years away from what she had imagined. Finding her friend beaten and feverish in the shadow of a container in a small back alley was not how she had hoped to find Ivar – actually the romantic inside her was convinced that despite her searching through the streets, she would end up bumping into him in that same park where they first met.

Soon her living room was filled with the light and steady snores of Ivar and she smiled again. Exhaustion washed over her and Silje lost no time in changing into her pyjamas and turning off the lights. Whatever happened today was over and it was time to breathe again.

*

“Ivar... Ivar. Ivar!”

The voice sounded distant, like an echo. But whoever was calling him seemed to get closer and closer each time they called his name. At first he wanted to groan and turn around, tell whoever was disturbing his sleep to go away and leave him in peace – the voice became too loud. But he realised that they weren't shouts.

“Ivar,” he heard again, more aware of the proximity of its source. He felt something heavy on his forehead and winced. It was cold too. “Ivar, open your eyes.”

He did not want to but the voice was soothing and warm, so he complied. His eyelids fluttered open, and he was glad to see that it wasn't too bright in the room. His eyes finally glanced towards the form next to him and he was met with Silje's worried gaze.

“Welcome back,” she told him with a somewhat tense smile. “How do you feel?”

“What-” shit his mouth was dry. “-what time is it? How long was I out?” He asked, ignoring her question. He felt awful, like a truck ran him over - twice.

“It's almost six in the evening, you slept over sixteen hours.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Not much. Believe it or not I went to class today,” she told him with a huff, as if wondering what the hell she was thinking. She didn't want to go but she had an important presentation and her professors didn't know or care about the fact that she gave shelter to an injured homeless man. “The three longest hours of my life, I thought I'd come home to your dead body lying on my couch.”

“You're the worst- caretaker- ever,” Ivar painfully breathed out. The air didn't come easy in his lungs, like something weighted down on his chest.

“Here,” Silje said and handed him a glass of water. “Need help?”

Ivar shook his head no and propped himself up on one elbow to down the water.

“I trust you're a fighter, you wouldn't let a fever get the best of you,” she chuckled.

“You just said-” Ivar started but left his sentence unfinished, simply gesturing to her with his right hand and hoping she would understand.

“I was worried, can you blame me? I was hoping your fever would get down a little bit. I probably should have woken you up to give you your medicine but you looked like you needed the sleep,” Silje explained, already reaching down to grab something Ivar could not see from where he was lying. “It's probably for the best that I'm not trying to become a nurse, right?”

“Your brother would make a better nurse,” Ivar began to laugh but it turned into a cough. “I bet he'd look pretty in the uniform.”

“God, I can't tell if this is the fever speaking or if you're really a on death wish. Do not say that in front of Ubbe or next time you wound up beaten up he'll refuse to take a look at you.”

“Just you wait until I'm better. I bet I can take him any time,” Ivar kept bragging.

Silje's hand reached out and brushed his hair out of his face. His forehead was sticky and his hair greasy. It was a tad longer than last time she saw him and his beard had grown back. The contact of her fresh hand against his hot skin made Ivar close his eyes in delight and lean into her touch. Next thing he knew Silje was giving him pills to swallow and asked that he sit up.

“I know it's painful but you have to get up, you need to take a shower.” Dread must have been written all over his face because she quickly added, “It'll make you feel better and I'll help you.”

“You'll help me shower? Like a baby?” He grumbled in complain. “How do you plan on doing this anyway? I can't stand on my left leg and I can't take a bath either.”

“Actually you can, I had it fixed,” Silje declared with a wide smile. She put her arms on the couch and rested her chin on her joined hands. “I think it'll suffice if I help you in the tub, you can take it from there. Unless you feel like getting a hair massage?”

“I feel like dying,” Ivar said, ever so positive and joyful.

“You're a ray of sunshine Ivar,” Silje laughed. “I'm glad you're fine. This might sound weird but I missed you – you really have a talent in bickering back and forth with me.”

“Don't you have enough brothers to fill up that role?” He wondered, trying to stand up with Silje's help.

Like yesterday, she let him lean on her and together, they stumbled across the room and to the bathroom. Ivar sat on the lid of the toilet. Silje ran his bath and turned on the wall heater to hang the towels on it.

“Apparently not,” she sighed, her hand lingering under the running water to see if it was hot enough. “They are a lot of things but intellectually stimulating is not one of them. I love them all but they can be a little boorish and obtuse at times.”

“Dunno.” Ivar shrugged. “Ubbe seemed pretty sharp to me when he examined my leg. The look in his eyes-”

“-you were on the receiving end of the soldier stare,” Silje laughed. “It rarely shows but it's scary when it does, it means shit's going down. After his injury, Ubbe wasn't the same; he had this look in his eyes all the time. But he's getting used to civilian life again, with Margrethe's help.”

“His girlfriend?”

“His fiancée,” Silje corrected him. “They are getting married in August.”

After that he didn't say anything anymore. Ivar stayed quiet until it was time to strip and get into the tub.

“I won't look,” Silje promised him when his fingers tugged at his belt to unbuckle it. She had no idea how she would accomplish that because she hardly managed to keep her eyes off his naked chest, but if she had to close her eyes to give him some privacy then she would do it.

“I didn't say anything,” Ivar replied, a smirk appearing on his face as he looked at her.

Silje couldn't help the blush on her cheeks but she didn't answer to his shameless flirting. He was feverish, he didn't think what he said – that's what she repeated to herself like a mantra while he finished taking off his remaining clothes while leaning on her to keep his balance. The girl let him take the lead and get into the tub on his own while trying her best to keep his weight off the bag leg.

“There. Will you be okay?” She asked him when he was in the water. Thank the gods, bubbles hid most of his body.

“Sure,” Ivar assured her. He raised his hand out of the water and flicked it at Silje, throwing drops of soapy water at her face and making her close her eyes. “I'll call you if I need help.”

“You won't try to get out of the tub by yourself to prove a point?” She asked just to make sure, squinting her eyes at him. “No misplaced pride? You call as soon as you're done, yeah?”

“Whatever,” he sighed and rolled his eyes but she didn't move a muscle. Silje would stay where she was, kneeling next to the tub and staring sternly at him as long as she wasn't sure he wouldn't do anything stupid. “I promise, okay? Now let me bathe, woman!” He flicked some more water at her and they both smiled.

Without another word, Silje walked out of the room, closed the door, then leaned against it and slid to the floor. Damn this boy.

*

Three weeks had passed and Silje was forced to admit that Ivar was far from the model patient. And she sure as hell would never become a nurse, that was final.

He was grumpy, stubborn, unwilling to comply, restless, capricious, and a bunch of other non-flattering adjectives. Silje was just about done with him. Then again, in spite of his foul behaviour when the pain kicked in, he was still of good company the rest of the time. He never voiced it but Silje knew that he only acted the way he did because he felt useless with his injured leg. It itched him to get up and get something done – she noticed he was particularly irritable whenever he sat on the couch, his legs resting on a cushion on the coffee table, while Silje ran around tiding and cleaning the apartment.

“This is ridiculous, let me help,” he grumbled for the hundredth time. Each time Silje laughed and told him to shut up. “I'm serious Silje, I'll go mad if I have to stay here any longer.”

“I've been cleaning my apartment on my own long before you crashed on my couch, I think I can handle this,” she reminded him. “Do something else to keep you busy. Read a book, learn sign language, knit a sweater.”

“Do you think I am an old lady?” He scoffed, obviously offended. “I need to get up, my muscles are stiffening from lack of use.”

If he was still bargaining instead of simply getting up my himself it meant that the pain was still too strong for him to do so. Silje stopped vacuuming the floor and pushed her hair out of her face to look at him and give him a scolding glare.

“We've been through this conversation already,” she said. “As long as Ubbe doesn't give you the green light, your ass is glued to the couch.”

“I'm sure I can stand on my leg, he just wants me to stay a cripple a little longer because he doesn't like me staying with you,” he argued, pointing a finger at Silje. She rolled her eyes and resumed vacuuming.

“Fine, you win. If you insist so much gather my mugs and put them in the sink, and put the bath towels in the washing machine,” she told him.

Those were easy tasks he could perform with his knee brace and crutches. As though she had just provided him with a life purpose, Ivar stood up, trying to conceal his wince of pain, and did as he was told. Silje couldn't wait for his leg to heal. Faint laughter came from the bathroom a few minutes later when Silje was putting away the vacuum cleaner and she peeked inside. A furious blush crept on her face when she saw him standing by the washing machine with her freshly washed underwear in his hands.

“I can't tell which one I like best,” he said, turning his head toward her, a boyish grin on his handsome face. His black eye had faded now, the wounds from his fight disappeared almost completely – the only remaining trace being the healing split lip.

In his left hand Ivar was holding Silje's cat knickers with the two little ears on the back, and in his right hand were her more revealing and expensive bottoms. Her mouth was ajar and she couldn't find anything to say for a solid ten seconds, then she gathered her wits.

“What are you, five?” She asked, her eyebrows shooting up and her arms crossing over her chest.

The way he looked at the underwear and then at her was purely indecent and certainly not how a five year old would behave. His wolfish smile sent shivers down Silje's spine and she dropped her arms to her sides and stood a little straighter. There was no knowing if he was messing with her or not, Ivar was difficult to read. He was a huge flirt, which made it increasingly hard for Silje to keep her cool around him. One day she was going to pin him against a wall with no warning and he won't see it coming.

“C'mon, Silje,” Ivar began. “Do you think I am that innocent?”

However today was not the day. She refused to answer this and engage on this slippery slope. Ivar was playing with her, he wanted to elicit a reaction.

“I can tell you where I bought them if you want the same,” she said, enjoying seeing his smirk drop. “They make bunny ones too.”

Defeated and disappointed, Ivar turned away from her. He mumbled something about her taking the fun out of everything, and went back to his task.

The comedy lasted another week, until Ubbe came along again and told him he could walk again.

“Not running a marathon, hear me?” He added right away when he saw Ivar's face light up. “You keep the leg brace, and you use the crutches. But you can take a walk, go grocery shopping or whatever you do with you time usually.”

“How thrilling. Might as well pick up an apron and settle down if I'm going to spend the rest of my days limping around,” he immediately complained, throwing his head against the back of the couch.

Ubbe patted his shoulder. Silje had called him a couple days after Ivar's injury and explained everything, which had considerably reduced Ubbe's hostility towards the young man. But not completely either.

“Can you lay off the drama for a second?” Silje huffed from the kitchenette. “Rejoice,” she told him in an overly optimistic voice. “You are now allowed to set foot outside of these four walls. Maybe you won't be as grumpy after some fresh air.”

That prediction came true. After his first walk Ivar was already less of a pain in the ass and stopped behaving like a child. Funnily enough, the nearest green area was Vestre Kirkegård which meant that Ivar and Silje regularly walked past the bench where she found him. He savoured the moment, enjoying how far he had come since this day. He liked to think that he had a little more control over his life than the first time he met Silje.

He even felt confident enough to make a move – at least he would if he could walk without those damn crutches. They didn't allow him to put his arm around Silje or even to let her hold his arm while they walked. No she simply strolled beside him with her hands in her pockets and cradling a cup of tea.

“Let's sit down,” he said, stopping in front of the bench instead of walking past it. “I wanna sit on this piece of wood one last time.”

“Feeling a little nostalgic?” She teased him, standing in front of him while he sat down, putting the crutches aside.

“No, I sit on it to establish dominance,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Or maybe I like this bench? It's where I met a pretty girl.”

“I can't tell if you're joking or not, you're always looking at me like you know something I don't,” Silje told him and sat down.

“They say knowledge is where lies true power,” Ivar philosophized. “Why wouldn't I be serious? What makes you think I'm not?”

Silje laughed at this and gave him a scolding look.

“You are a relentless flirt, Ivar,” she told him but he only looked at her as if to say 'so what is your point?'. “You do it for the thrill and to make me uncomfortable.”

“Are you uncomfortable right now?” Ivar asked, leaning in closer to her and not detaching his eyes from her while she pondered her answer and bit her lip.

“No, uncomfortable wasn't the right word,” she eventually decided. “You try to make me nervous.”

“Unsuccessfully from what I can see, you always have an answer to my teasing no matter what I say.”

If anyone had heard this conversation they would have cringed. The air was tense and so electric Silje wondered if her hair wasn't standing on end. Speaking of hair...

“We need to do something about your hair,” she blurted out, effectively breaking the tension. “It's getting out of hand.”

“Wha-” Ivar began, gesturing around to show his disagreement. “My hair is perfect as it is.”

“It's not.” Silje shook her head under Ivar's puzzled gaze. “If you don't groom a little you'll never find a job.”

“A job?”

“Of course. Did you think I was gonna let you crash my place free of charge forever?” She scoffed and took a sip of her tea. Ivar leaned back against the bench and stared at her.

“You're kicking me out as soon as I can walk again?” He asked, truly astounded.

Not that he didn't see it coming, or thought he deserved it, but it was out of character for Silje. Or was it? Could he really tell after knowing her for a total of two months? Even if she did plan to dump him in the streets as soon as he was healed, this still came pretty much out of nowhere.

“No, I'm saying you help put bread on the table. You're not my charity case, remember? You're just a friend I'm helping get back on track.”

You're just a friend.

“You'll have to wait until August to apply for university, but until then you'll work. You don't need to pay a rent, my parents already cover the charges for the apartment and it's not like it changes anything for them if you live with me. I only ask you help pay for groceries and the water bill. You sure do enjoy your bath time so you can pay for it. The rest of the money you should save for dog days.”

“Sounds like you gave it some thought,” Ivar observed. “All right, I was going to do it anyway by the way, I wouldn't have abused your hospitality. I intend to contribute as best I can. But can we negotiate about my hair?”

“No.”

“What- but, why?”

“No.”

“That's not answering my question at all,” he complained but Silje merely smile innocently and finished her tea.

“It's beginning to rain,” she said. “Come, let's head back. I used to do my brothers' haircuts whenever their girlfriends didn't want to. I'm good at it.”

Ivar wanted to object again but he figured it might indeed feel good to get his mane tamed. It hadn't seen a pair of scissors in quite some time and grew long in the past year or so. Besides, going to a hair salon was out of the question, at least until his first pay check.

“Okay, but I get to choose what you do to my hair!”

“Whatever you say Ivar.”

Silje stood up and held her hand out for him. Ivar glared at it but still took the offered hand somewhat reluctantly. At least he tried to look reluctant. It was still warm from the cup of tea and she enclosed her fingers around his hand, dragging him away from the bench with a big smile on her face while he stumbled forward.

If you like my work please consider buying me a coffee <3

#ivar #ivar's heathen army #ivar the boneless #ivar the bonesless imagine #ivar the boneless oneshot #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar trash #alex hogh andersen #alex høgh andersen #alex hogh andersen imagine #alex høgh imagine #alex høgh andersen imagine #vikings #viking imagine #vikings imagine #vikings fanfic #history channel #history vikings #moder #modern au #au #alternate universe #oc #ivar x oc #heathen army #sister wives

[krakasigurdardottir-blog]

Just how I imagine Aud’s look on the first time Ivar see her. 

Image from the artist Esra Røise.

#conundrum ffic #ivar and aud #modern aud the deep minded #moder ivar the boneless

[hornyorca]

Of All The Phenomenon’s In The World.

Ragnarssons x Modern!Reader.

I blame FOB for my title length.

This is basically Vikings meets modern times with a little bit of the avengers thrown in. I don’t know what I’m doing with my life and I can’t even apologize for it.

I blame @cryogenik @kirah34 @dani-si​ for this. It’ll get to the fun stuff soon. don’t worry. I plan on there being lots of exploration if yOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

mostly @cryogenik​. mostly.

warnings: cursing. i think that’s it.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m afraid I can’t do that for you.” Flew between your lips for probably the thousandth time in a single hour, the dark circles under your eyes more prominent than when you forced yourself out of bed this morning.

Gladly enough, as your eyes rolled furthering into the back of your skull with each passing moment, you didn’t have a face to match the ungodly voice grinding through the phone, “Well, find me someone who can.”

Whoever was listening up above give you patience, because if you had strength, you might actually burn the entire building to the ground. Curling your hand into a fist, you slowly motioned punching the sleek black receiver on your desk as a punctuation to each word. “Again, he is in a meeting at the moment, and cannot come to the phone. I am not allowed to give out anymore information than that.”

There was a moment of silence, one that seemed blissful and sweet, but did not last long enough. “So, I can call back later then and he’ll be available?”

Your hands met in front of your face, palms together in a praying motion, and you almost hissed: “Yes.”

“Okay then, I’ll just call back later, I guess,” She sneered, and you silently gagged. “It would of been nice had you suggested it earlier instead of wasting my time, you know.”

The dial tone followed and for a moment you simply sat, legs spread improperly wide, forearms supporting yourself against the cold desk, and eyes unfocused on your CEO’s door. Several muted gestures flew from your hands at the phone, ripping your bluetooth off and chucking it in the trash can, and you began a slow breathing method.

“You know, that’s a 300 dollar piece of equipment,” Be damned with formalities, you didn’t even bother to turn your head.

“Mr. Stark  —  “

“Ah-ah, I’m sorry, who are you looking for?”

A little part of you died inside each time he made you do this, and you internally sobbed with both words. “Crimson Dynamo.”

“Continue,” Tony gestured, swiveling his hand around, and you vaguely noticed him tinkering with your Newton’s Cradle.

Inhaling deeply, you were finally frustrated to have enough courage to finally tell your boss exactly how you were feeling about everything you dealt with. “Look, I love being your assistant, I really do — “

“Of course you do.”

Ignoring that comment, you went on, “ — But I’m here to help you take care of business, not help throw turn down your one-night swings for you in the process!” There was no comment, and when you looked at him, his brown eyes were focused on the little contraption, and your fingers twitched. “Mr. Stark!” You pleaded, slamming your hands down on the table.

“Oh, I’m listening,” He assured you, not sparing you a glance, but his finger stopped poking. “Or does it bother you that I’m playing with my balls?”

There was a momentary pause before you leaned forward and swiped away the distraction, and dropping it in the trash. “And now they’re back where they belong.”

“Ouch,” Tony made a thoughtful look, his brown eyes looking sadly into the trash.

Your nails tapped on the desk, one following the other as you glanced down at the fancy watch on your wrist waiting for him to finish mourning his new loss. “How was the meeting that you refused to let me go to?” It was no secret that Tony Stark was Ironman anymore, and that meetings for the Avengers were held right in this tower, and it always crawled under your skin to be so close yet so far away from them.

Of course, you had met a few of them at a passing glance, got introduced, but you were a part of no official business. That didn’t stop a few of them from getting your phone number, much to Tony’s annoyance on how everyone tried to play with his toys.

He was such a child sometimes.

“Boyfriend break up with you?” A nonchalant response, completely irrelevant. You squinted at the screen, fingers pausing on your keyboard as you were slowly booking his next meeting that actually had to do with business you were a part of. “Goldfish die?” Each question made your brows furrow deeper as you slowly turned in your chair, looking at him like he had gone mad.

“What?”

His finger tapped his chin several times, analyzing gaze on you. “There’s got to be a reason you’re so bitter lately.”

Offended, you jerked back a bit. “I am not — “

Tony snapped, slowly pointing both fingers at you in a western gun shoot-out. “When was the last time you had a vacation.”

You could never remember a time in your life that you felt your emotions switch so much than when you were around him, this time suspicion came over you. “When did you become so generous.”

“See! Right there!” He exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger inches from your nose. “You’re going to ruin this company with your negative vibes, and we don’t have that here.”

Glancing around, you openly gestured to the fact it was basically only you and him on the entire floor, because he felt the need to have an entire floor for his office. “We?”

He nodded, suddenly setting a bag on the high-rise of your desk. “Exactly, and that’s why I got you this.” Rolling down the bag, he revealed a little Bonzai.

Slight disappointment came over your features as you looked at the tiny tree, a singular leaf on it’s branch. “Is this my vacation?”

“Close,” Tony began to explain, “It’s a hint that has to do with your vacation.”

“You’re... sending me to China?”

“No,” His finger pointed at the miniature plant, a million dollar grin cracking his face. “Think of what the Bonzai represents.”

“Peace? Serenity?”

“Yes, and yes. That’s your vacation — I mean, peace is what you millennial’s are all about these days, right?”

There was no amusement in your features. “Did you just call me a millennial?”

Stark’s hands drummed on the surface of your desk until he reached the very end. “I don’t wanna see you or hear from you for three weeks, got it? Or at least until positive emotions are seeping from your pores.”

“That’s disgusting to think about.”

“Three weeks!”

Your fingers danced along your steering wheel, eyes jumping around the area as your foot tapped in impatience at your GPS. “Please, turn around.” And you ripped it off your dash, flicking it into the back seat without a care, your car still parked on the side of the road. Giving your face one last rub with your hands, you put your car back in drive and floored it, not bothering to double-check if anyone was coming up behind you.

Of course, getting lost on your way home was a wonderful way to start your vacation. Apparently, your GPS, no matter how much money you had spent on it, didn’t know how to navigate around tons of road construction and unfortunately, that was the only way you knew home. It didn’t help with the rain pouring down either. You only hoped your house wasn’t flooded.

You lived in a little rural area outside of NYC, with the beach practically in your backyard. You’d been there for about two years now, Mr. Stark having moved you out of the motel you had been living in, since, in the time you started working for him your actual apartment was almost an hour away. A year later, he had followed you home one night, claiming it was an experiment on what normal people do after work, and after finding out where you lived, he gifted you with a set of keys the next day. At first, you refused them, until he informed you that the contract was already in your name and rent would be paid to him. The rent eventually came down to nothing, and you took care of everything for yourself.

You couldn’t lie, while your boss got on your nerves at times, that job was a god-sent gift, and you don’t even want to think of where you would be without it, or without him.

Groaning, the rain continued to pour, only coming in thicker waves as time went on, and by the time you arrived at your house, you couldn’t even see the drive way. Sitting for a moment, you looked around your car and slapped the steering wheel, throwing yourself back against the seat and crossing your arms. You honestly have had the worst day, and just wanted to go inside and go to sleep, and you kept telling yourself it could be worse.

It could be worse.

It is worse.

Jolting forward, your head barely brushed the steering wheel as it seemed like an earthquake shook the ground, and immediately the rain quit pouring, calming to a small drizzle. You stayed still, barely breathing as you stared idly out the blurry window. Through the running droplets, you vaguely made out dark colors on your property.

Oh God. Oh God.

So many things had happened in NYC, and yet you were living here, and this would probably be the moment you would regret it. You figured, being mixed up in the business of Tony Stark you would die at a young age, from something he would do, or someone would see you as leverage for a kidnapping. Clenching your eyes tight, you let out air in multiple spurts. 

You thought you’d face a regular fate, like getting stabbed or shot by a mugger, or a crack addict, or being held hostage in a bank robbery. You know, the normal things that happen in big cities. Not have some HYDRA agent hunt down your ass, or some other-worldly mortal enemy of Tony, or god knows who. 

Trying to calm down, you quietly mumbled to yourself, trying to tell yourself: “Maybe it’s just Thor visiting... or Loki... or something.” For some reason, the two Norse Gods had taken a quick liking to you, frequently talking to you and visiting when they had the time. But lately, Loki had not been coming around and Thor did not seem to willing to talk, so you were left to wonder and worry, but were assured he was still alive and well.

Not that you were sure that made you feel any better or worse.

Rubbing furiously at your face, you reached your free hand over to pop open the door, and your foot was immediately calf deep in water. Slight tears of frustration welled up in your eyes, but you shook them away as you didn’t give a damn anymore, climbing out the car. Though, when you looked towards your house, you saw five figures; one laying in the grass coughing and sputtering, another clutching his side as he looked off into the distance, a blonde laying on his back in the grass with his face covered, and the other two were holding onto each other.

Those definitely were not Thor or Loki.

Not to mention the fucking boat in your backyard.

Immediate panic rushed through you, gut dropping at the scene of them dressed up in what looked like ancient armor, axes strapped to their bodies. Wetting your drying lips, you slowly crouched down as none of them noticed you, glancing off down the road where your neighbor lived. Granted, he was the closest one and was about 4 miles down the road, but maybe if you tried hard enough you could get away. You grimaced thinking about escaping on foot, but judging by the risen water-level on the road, you had a feeling you wouldn’t make it far by your vehicle. It looked like you were lucky you made it home.

Wiping sweat from your forehead, you tried to calm your pounding heart and shaking hands that gripped the door of the car as you peaked around it. Though you wished you hadn’t — the figure on the ground aggressively pointed at you, yelling something that you weren’t sure you even wanted to understand, and two bulky figures began stalking towards you.

“Fuck me,” You breathed, taking off towards the flooded road on foot. 

You’d feel better if you died trying to get away rather than not, even if that was an 70 dollar skirt.

#HELP #IM RUINING MYSELF #tony #tony stark is in this yes #tony stark #vikings #mostly vikings #vikings imagine #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #modern!vikings #modering!vikings imagine #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk imagine #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe #sigurd snake in the eye #sigurd imagine #Sigurd #bjorn ironside #bjorn #bjorn imagine

[vikings-incxrrect]

Ivar: I'm a moderate, peaceful man.

Ubbe: Yesterday you threw a chair at Sigurd.

Ivar: That was moderate and peaceful compared to the table I was going to throw at him.

#incorrect quotes #incorrect vikings #vikings incorrect quotes #incorrect vikings quotes #vikings #ivar #ivar the boneless #ubbe #ubbe ragnarsson

[ivarinleatherpants]

The height of irony (is it? Is that the word? Someone correct me) is that in the tales Ubbe and Hvitserk are the two who die gloriously in battle while Ivar dies an old man with a bajillion babies, not to mention Sigurd being King of Denmark with his little Sigurdlings.

I honestly feel like I would have liked that, just rubbed Ragnar's face in his "happiness is nothing" if Ivar ended up unexpectedly finding himself happy and realizing that hey, it was pretty great! Why not settle down in Dublin and have a moderately quiet life? Just keeping his children from killing themselves or each other is battle enough!

#equalstrashflavoredtrash #tiyetiye #whenimaunicorn

[jadelynlace]

ink!ivar having morning sex while not being totally awake so the sex is almost dreamlike?

This topic has been touched on in the AU with prior consent.

Ivar doesn't sleep well, he never has, but maybe someday he will. And, for as long as you've known him, he's been a restless sleeper. Especially after his accident and continuing recovery, he tosses and turns, and sometimes, he'll simply be awake with you in his arms as you sleep.

So, it wasn't much of a shock that he loves mornings sex; especially after you get to know him (and how much of a teddy bear he is). Spooning is one of his top three positions; (next to missionary and doggy if you're curious) and most morning sex you two engage in, starts in that very way.

Now, Ivar is a lot like a teenager in many ways, between the humor and the sex talk, and another prime example is that this man has a lot (and I mean, a lot) of sex dreams. More and more especially after you two start (unofficially) seeing each other, and he thinks he's cursed. Blessed in a way, yeah, but possibly cursed. You showed up in a sex dream not too long after you both met, and Ivar was almost too afraid to so text Hvitserk during the day, even when they usually do. As if it was wrong, illegal to have you appear in the vision, moaning Ivar's name. 

You've woken up more than once to him behind you, slow grind to his hips, or soft moans on his mouth. He's said your name in his sleep and you're always worried it's a nightmare until there's a hint of a moan and estranged noise of pleasure that follows.

Sometimes, the noises are far too tempting. And, it always seems to happen a lot more frequently in the warmer months, where you find yourself sleeping in simply a long shirt. You’ve brought it up to him, he blushed and apologized and you still can’t get over how downright cute this man can be. This man, with his tough exterior, yet beautiful sharp features, handsome jawline, dazzling blue eyes, tattoos appearing when he rolls up his sleeves, curve of his lip with a snarky comment. That man turns into a teddy bear.

It’s a morning not out of the ordinary, and you wake up to the slow grind from Ivar behind you, curled up with you and as you scoot back, the ever subtle evidence of his enjoyment pokes at you. With sunlight still flickering through the curtains, your arms creep slowly, pulling your shirt in your favor before they sneak behind you. Careful not to startle him, you pull at the seam of his boxers, trying to get them just past his hips. When you roll in his arms, you’re slowly throwing your leg over his thighs, moving as if you’re stuck in concrete, and the nudge against him only starts to rouse him.

Before you can do anything, your lips meet his for a moment, admiring how they’re parting slightly as he sleeps, the flicker of his eyes under his eyelids as the dream replays in his head. His lips curve at the end briefly to a small smile, washing away as you move closer once more, and a groan slips from his chest. 

“Good morning, handsome,” Your voice floats into his dream and he’s stuck between wanting to wake up and wanting to relish in his sleep for only five more minutes. Finally, Ivar’s eyes flutter when he feels your grasp around his cock, when you turn once more in his arms and he registers the warm wetness of your cunt when you scoot back against him.

The guttural moan you adore comes through his chest, his free hand sinking into the sheets and you only moan back before his fingers take to moving. Slipping onto your hip as you work him, as his mind pulls him to the present with your shampoo's scent floating into his nose. You know he’s fully awake when his hand dips between your folds, teasingly slow circles on your most sensitive part before there’s a sudden sharp thrust, rocking you along with the bed. His opposite hand moves then, climbing behind you before he pushes your head in his favor, mouth seeking yours. Another sharp jolt and you whine, circles on your clit stopping for a reach at your chest and you take up that duty on your own accord. Ivar feels his release moving towards him as you push back against him, matching his slow thrusts and he stops suddenly. With his grip on your chest, you can even feel the muscles in his arm tense as he rides out his high, small flicks of your own hips helping him as you roll your fingers to meet your own end. And the way your walls flutter, tightening around him, do not help as white ropes fill you. 

Finally, his arm flops and you giggle as if you’ve snuck a treat before dinner. You take the liberty to grab that hand, kissing his knuckles for a brief moment before it moves clumsily, tapping your nose while his fingers drum, and you both can't help but snicker. When you finally try to pull away and turn around, Ivar’s arm suddenly stops you.

“Stay like this,” He mumbles, with sleep tugging on his words and you’re pulled closer, even with no additional room to spare. “Stay like this all morning,” 

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[ivarthebadbitch]

Strange things can happen

Summary: Ragnar and Ecbert avert mutually assured destruction and end a vicious cycle of war and retaliation, to the great dismay of everybody else involved. Canon divergent, everybody lives, arranged marriage AU after 4x14. Cross posted on Ao3.

Pairings: Ivar x OC, Ivar vs. basically everyone

Warnings: None

Word count: 1368

Notes: To be updated weekly (I hope). Let me know if you want to be tagged or whatever.

CHAPTER 1: You promised WHAT?

“You promised WHAT?”

Ragnar glanced behind himself just in time to catch Ecbert’s guards looking on curiously as Ivar’s yelp echoed down the halls. “King Ecbert and I have come to an agreement,” he explained for the second time, though with slightly less patience. “This new treaty will be to the benefit of both of our people, and you have an important role to play in uniting our two countries. I did tell you that you were special, remember?”

His son crossed his arms and glared at him. “Why don’t I get a say in this?”

Ragnar shrugged and straightened up. He winced a little as his back cracked, but he was certainly happy to no longer be sitting in chains in a dungeon. Why settle for revenge when you can get something better? “You can choose what color you want to wear for your wedding. Ecbert will have new clothes made for us.”

“I won’t do it. I refuse. You can’t force me to marry this girl, whoever she is.”

“She’s not just a girl. She’s a princess—Prince Aethelwulf’s daughter by his first wife—and she’s even your age, and a very lovely person, Ecbert assures me,” Ragnar said with a sigh. “And you will do it. I’ll tie you to a chair myself if I have to. What are you going to do, run away?”

Obviously not. Still, Ivar shook his head. “Mother will never allow it,” he declared, though Ragnar could hear the note of desperation creeping into his voice.

“Your mother doesn’t have to know about this until afterwards.” He knew the boy was right, of course; Aslaug would be furious, but it would be too late by the time she heard about it.

Ivar lowered his head. “I can’t—I won’t—” he mumbled.

Ragnar raised his eyebrows. “Is there a problem?”

His son’s face was very, very red. “No.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. Now, have you decided what color you want?”

                                                            ***

“You promised WHAT?”

There was nothing that made a kingdom—or just a king, but it was really his opinion that mattered most—rejoice more than a well matched union to secure its wealth and flourish. And Ecbert was indeed very happy about the deal he had just struck, though it was clear that his son would need some additional reassurance.

“I came to an agreement with Ragnar,” he explained once again to Aethelwulf, who was leaning forward in his chair with his mouth agape. “Your daughter is to marry his son, Ivar, who will remain with us in Wessex. There will be no more bloodshed between our peoples and we will have a favorable trade deal. You knew this day would come sooner than later, and Aldreda is certainly old enough.”

His son pursed his lips and turned away, his face growing red with anger. “You promised my daughter to a heathen?” he said. “To these barbarians that have plagued our kingdom for so long? Was it your disdain for me that made you sell my only daughter in this manner, without bothering to first seek my permission?”

“My son, nothing of that sort. Have you not been listening? This is an honor, a historic moment. The best possible outcome for Aldreda.”

“I want her to be safe.”

“But she is safe here with us. I would never send her to live among the heathens. And the boy, you have seen his condition, he is no threat.”

“I indeed have,” Aethelwulf replied coolly. There was a long pause as he let his words settle. “You call it a great honor. Another man might consider it a great insult, both to himself and his daughter. A mockery.”

This time Ecbert’s voice was cold. “I am certain Aldreda will do her duty. As will you.”

He watched Aethelwulf’s expressions cycle from anger to resentment to resignation. They had fought these battles many times over, and his son’s strategy was always the same: grudgingly cede ground and accept that Ecbert had won, but hold out for a moderate concession or two. It was not a strategy that usually worked out well for him. “The boy needs to be baptized,” Aethelwulf said. “You won’t marry your granddaughter to a heathen.”

Ecbert shrugged. “His father was baptized before, and Ivar and Aldreda will be married according to Christian customs. That satisfies me and it should satisfy you.”

“But Father—”

“We cannot delay with formalities, Aethelwulf. This needs to happen quickly,” Ecbert continued. “You see, Ragnar and I spoke for many hours last night, and I now grasp the workings of the pagan mind. He was displeased with the liquidation of their settlement all those years ago, but he understands well enough why it happened and the difficulty of my position. And he understands as well the benefits of establishing a formal trade arrangement, sealed by marriage. But the longer we wait, the more likely it becomes that this opportunity will slip away. And so.”

He filled his cup once more and watched Aethelwulf shaking with anger out of the corner of his eye. Then his son abruptly slumped over in defeat. “Did you already tell her? Or have you left that to me?”

Ecbert sighed. “You’re her father and she should hear it from you. Don’t frighten her, please. It is perhaps not the match she expected, but there is no cause for alarm.”

Aethelwulf nodded and left the room without another word, leaving Ecbert alone with only his wine jug for company. He rubbed his beard and raised his cup in a toast to no one in particular. “To the happy bride and groom,” he declared, and downed it in a single gulp.

                                                              ***

It was not often that Aldreda found herself entirely speechless, but this turned out to be one of those times: sitting beside her tutor with her Greek lesson entirely forgotten while her father apologized as he explained that she was to be married in two days’ time to a heathen. 

“I had hoped for a better suitor,” he said. “A gallant lord, gentle and strong, not...this. But I promise you, the boy will be christianized. I told your grandfather I would not permit my only daughter to live with pagans. I was very clear about that.”

“Thank you,” Aldreda answered, for lack of anything better to say. She had seen Ragnar’s son a few times now, mostly absorbed in games of chess with Alfred. He had never spoken so much as a single word to her, nor she to him. “Does he speak our language?”

Her father shook his head. “Only a little, from what I understand. But you know some of his, and he can learn, if he’s to live among us.”

She was silent for just long enough to make her father uneasy. Unexpectedly, he stepped close and grabbed her hands. “If he dares harm you in any way, I will—I’ll…”

He didn’t say what he would do, but she had the feeling that he needed comfort more than she did. She managed to muster up a small smile. “I am sure I will be fine, Father,” she said. 

That seemed to reassure him somewhat. She waited until after he had gone before turning to her tutor and politely but firmly asking him to leave her in peace for a moment. Once the door was closed, she stood up and walked over to the window. She thrust her hand outside and felt a few drops of rain splash onto her palm. Then she took a deep breath, stuck her head out and stared up at the grey sky, and screamed.

She heard a knock at the door and she drew her head back in and smoothed out her dress. “Yes?”

Her tutor pushed the door open a few inches. “Is everything all right, my lady?” he asked hesitantly.

I am to be sold off in two days to a pagan, the son of our enemy, so no, everything is not entirely all right. But she knew her grandfather, and he always got what he wanted, didn’t he? She gave her tutor a bright, angry smile. “Shall we continue the lesson from where we left off?”

#vikings #ivar the boneless #fanfiction #just for fun really #fic: strange things can happen

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Forging a Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 3- The sons of Ragnar

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 2220

Warnings: None so far!

2- Taken

...

The notorious Kattegat that Helga spoke so fondly of was in turmoil. Their queen was over thrown and killed, her murderer proclaiming that she was their rightful queen. These people were so hotheaded, that even their women fought each other for power.

The captives on the commanding ship were rounded up by Hvitserk, locking them in with the other captives in what seemed like a farm house. Some of the other captured women began to cry in fear, dry kohl streaking their faces. Artemis was tired of crying, but her eyes burned with the need to release tears.

Her watery eyes stared defiantly at Hvitserk, who only returned her glare with a smile, baring all teeth like a wolf on the hunt. To him, she appeared as a mouse caught in a trap.

"Oh little fighter," He begins, "We admire such will, but not in a slave," His smile didn't falter. He turned his back on all of them, locking them into their makeshift prison.

...

"It has come to our attention that Helga has taken a liking to you,"

Bjorn had a voice that could only be described as infuriating, the tones sounding almost childlike despite his large outward appearance. He pulled her roughly towards a moderately sized cabin, far better in construction than the others.

She stumbled along with his quick pace, blinking the sleep from her eyes. It was a quiet morning, and it was her first time scanning the town since their arrival. The people stared at her before going about their business. She began to wonder how long they were kept locked away in the farm house.

"If it were up to me you would have been the perfect gift for her. She has been a friend of the family for many years," He continued nonchalantly, as if they were only discussing the weather and not her enslavement, "But there are other plans for you."

Bjorn stops suddenly, turning round to face her. She gulps, watching how his eyes scan over her like a fine mare for sale.

"I wonder if mother is right?" Artemis cocks her head at his words, not fully understanding. Bjorn just shrugs, grabbing her by the cloak and pulling her along again.

"You will be given to my youngest brother as a gift."

Her eyes widened, drowsiness disappearing completely from her body as she fought against Bjorn's grip, tangling herself in the cloak. She screeches, digging her bare feet into the earth to halt the tall man's movements, but it was no use. She tripped over her dirty feet, almost meeting with the muddy ground before Bjorn grabbed her cloak by the neck, steadying her.

"Try not to make a bad impression, Ivar can be quite fickle." Bjorn chuckles, pushing open the wooden door of the cabin and pushing her inside. She stumbled on her weak legs, turning to look back at Bjorn. He was amused.

"Bjorn, for me? You shouldn't have!" Hvitserk cheers, jumping up from a stool beside the door. His long hair was now much neater, braided away from his face and exposing his features clearer then before. He was smiling like a fool, and Artemis didn't like it.

"How's the little fighter doing?" Hvitserk pulls her closer, holding her in place by the shoulders when she threatened to fall over.

"Brothers! Come take a look!"

Looking past him, she noticed how richly lit the area was, with furs covering every inch of the walls. A small fire was blazing in the middle, the sudden heat causing her to shiver. The smell of roasted meat wafted to her nostrils, and she only realized then how starved she was.

Two men appear from a chamber deeper inside the cabin. They were of similar build and height, with the same blonde tresses atop their head.

"This is the Mediterranean girl found in the monestary," Hvitserk pushed her towards them, making her an uncomfortable object of attention. She stood there awkwardly, not wanting to look them in the eyes.

"She was a woman among the priests," Hvitserk continues, "I'm sure they have used her in the most holy ways," The brothers laughed as he did a mock cross over his front, placing his hands together in false prayer with a smirk.

"I think we shall have fun with her,"

Artemis gritted her teeth harshly, thinking they would surely shatter. She didn't fully understand all the words that they spoke, some terms escaped her, but she knew enough to know what they were getting at.

"She is to be given to Ivar," Bjorn calls from behind, as if reminding them of his presence.

There was a collective groan, before one of them barks for the others to shut up. Artemis whips her head in the direction of the voice. It was another male, sat at a table in the far side of the cabin. She hadn't noticed him at all.

There was a strange expression on his face, and she didn't understand that such an expression was betraying how hard he fought his demons. His eyes bore into hers as he sets his lips into a tight line. There was something in those unusual eyes that she couldn't make out, a malicious glint that drowned in the blue of his iris's.

"She is to be gifted to Ivar?" Hvitserk moaned in disappointment, "I almost drown bringing her back and she is to be given to him? I was just beginning to like her."

"Shut up, Hvitserk," Ivar growls, immediately flinging an empty cup at him, hitting Hvitserk spot on before it shatters to the ground in large pieces. Artemis flinches at the sudden movement, stepping away in response.

"So this is Lagertha's plan, hmm?" One of the brothers says, crossing his arms like a child, "To subdue the craziest of Ragnar’s sons?"

"Careful, Sigurd." Bjorn warns. Another name, this one was Sigurd. His blonde hair was braided as well, but it did nothing to accentuate his features, only his eyes were prominent, almost as blue as Ivar's.

Ignoring the shattered pieces on the floor, he goes to circle her form, eyeing her as Bjorn had done. She was rather small, unlike the tall women of Kattegat, and her dress was nothing he had seen before. Her long hair was dark, and her skin was kissed by the sun. But it was her eyes that were the most captivating to him. They were paler than anything he'd seen before.

"Stop eyeing her that way, she's not yours," Grunts the last of them with a sigh. He already seemed tired of such trivial talk. He resembled Bjorn greatly, with the same blue eyes and long blonde hair braided back in a rope like fashion. Actually, they all seem to have the same blue intensity in their eyes. Artemis wondered just how many brothers there were.

"Easy for you to say, Ubbe, you have Margarthe," Sigurd mutters, sparing Artemis one last glance before kicking the shattered pieces of the cup towards the brother that threw it.

"Clean up your mess."

Ivar, already bubbling up with his retaliation was stopped by Ubbe, who began to pick up the pieces himself with another sigh.

"We've brought in new captives. You want one? Go buy one," Bjorn grunts, "This was Lagertha's decision to give Ivar the foreign girl," Bjorn crossed his arms, looking sternly at his younger brothers, and that ended that conversation. Sigurd shrugs, but not before turning to glare at Ivar, who returned it with triple the intensity. There was hatred behind their gazes that could not be ignored.

"No doubt to distract me," Ivar finally says, pushing his plate away, "Does she think gifting me a slave would shy my mind away from her transgressions? She killed our mother," Ivar suddenly hops off the chair and onto the floor with a practiced ease.

Artemis was stunned, watching as he maneuvered his lifeless legs like a snake in the grass. She could've cried out in disbelief, wondering if this was some sort of act.

Ivar drags his body towards her, his short brown hair falling into his eyes with each movement he made. He stopped directly in front of her dirt covered feet, reaching out to touch the blue hem of her once white dress, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"She stinks of sea water and piss," He spat, looking up to glare at the girl. He finds her looking down at him with an equally intense glare. She skims her eyes over his dirty clothes and filthy hands. He dare to judge her appearance when he crawled about like a hog in the mud?

Ivar snorts, dropping his hand from her dress and twisting his neck to look back at Bjorn.

"What use will she be to me? She's not even pretty," He tells him, turning to glare at Hvitserk when he scoffs with a shake of his head.

"Liar," Hvitserk says, going over to sit beside Ubbe now that the hunger was getting the best of him. Artemis watches him rip the meat off a bone with envious eyes.

"Why would I lie?" Ivar retaliates, turning his eyes back to the captive for more scrutiny.

And...perhaps there was some truth in Hvitserks accusation.

Ivar preferred the pale skin and hair of northern women, though he supposed this girl was pretty in her own way, even with the dirt that covered her cheeks and the hay that decorated her hair.

"Let me take her off your hands then, if she truly disgusts you," Hvitserk was quick to say, wagging his brows in a suggestive way.

"How unlucky of me, that the gods have cursed me with such simple minded brothers," Bjorn suddenly growls out, "Right now the task at hand is to avenge our father in Wessex. We begin preparations tomorrow. As for you Ivar, enjoy your new thrall in whatever way you wish. You shall see to your petty revenge once our business in England is over,"

With that, Bjorn left, leaving the girl trapped under the stare of curious eyes.

...

"I was in your position once," The blonde girl tells her, "Though I feel far more fortunate than you. I would rather kill myself than serve Ivar."

Artemis says nothing, trying instead to cover her naked body away from the girl, though she failed miserably. A couple of young men passing by whooped, their eyes traveling over her form like scavengers. Her body was out in the open and she felt completely ashamed.

They were in the woods, just behind the cabin, bathing herself as best she could with a simple bucket of water. She was covered in weeks worth of filth. Her hair suffered the worst of it, the strands knotted every which way.

"Now is not the time for modesty," The blonde girl continues, with an annoyed sigh, "It is beyond me why Ubbe asked me to watch you." Artemis searches her mind, trying to match the name to the face.

"We don't have all day," The girl mutters with a click of her tongue. She motions with her hands for her to hurry her bathing.

From what Artemis understood, the blonde girl was a former slave, now married to one of the brothers. Besides Helga, this girl was gentle as well, though she was clearly running out of patience. After another moment of watching Artemis bathe, she speaks again.

"My name is Margrethe. Do you understand me?" Artemis nods slowly, keeping her eyes low.

"Good," Margrethe replies, "All you really need is to understand. Speaking would do you no favors." She then tosses the foreign girl a sheet made of a rough material.

"Get dry," The blonde then looks at the crumpled heap of fabric that was once Artemis's dress, "And we must rid you of that dress. It pleases no one to see such a thing." She hands her a another lump of fabric. It was a muddy color, and just like the drying sheet, it was rough to the touch.

"This will be the only thing you wear from now on. Dress yourself." Artemis tosses the drying sheet on the ground, stepping over it to wipe the dirt from her feet before unraveling the dress.

It was ugly.

The fabric felt itchy in her hands, but it was surprisingly warm. She supposed it best to see the good in every dreary situation.

"What's your name?" Margrethe asks, turning her round to help with the back lacing of the dress.

"Artemis." The blonde hums, twirling her back round before handing her a bone comb.

"Your hair needs it. It was a wedding gift, don't break it." Artemis stares at the intricately designed comb before struggling to pass the teeth through her hair.

"I'll give you a bit of a warning," Margrethe begins, "Now that you are Ivar's slave,"

Slave.

A word Artemis would not get use to.

"Do not underestimate him as I once did," She blinked in confusion. Sure, Ivar seemed a bit...off, but what harm could he do crawling about the way he did? Margrethe reads her expression immediately.

"I have been at his mercy before," She explains, "He may look harmless and weak, but he is the most feared and the most dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Artemis repeats.

"Very," The blonde confirms, "And whatever rumors you hear, don't disregard them."

...

@heavenly1927

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[empowertherapy]

Why is an earlier diagnosis is better for ASD? 

It is true: Autism spectrum disorder (ASD) is now becoming more prevalent across the USA. There's not any consensus on the incidence of this problem is continuing to grow. Theories range from more consciousness, to better identification, to hereditary mutations... to environmental elements. Irrespective of the reason or reasons for the growth in identification of children with disabilities, experts worry it is essential for parents to have early screenings for ASD and, even in case their child shows any indications, to take instant actions.

This not only induces communicating difficulties but difficulties with each day social interaction. Because folks have a vast range of symptoms and seriousness --varying from moderate to acute or someplace in between--it's regarded as a "spectrum" condition.

Every kid on the autism spectrum includes a range of issues and problems to overcome.

Not all these indicators are necessarily shown. Kids may have only some of them or perhaps unique symptoms which are either different from those or in conjunction together. Some kids may only have mild impairments while some face greater barriers. Furthermore, a number of these symptoms may persist during the kid's life.

There's absolutely no cure for ASD and there is no consensus about what causes it. But, everyone agrees that the earlier intervention starts for kids with ASD, the more striking of a difference it could make in their own lives.

Identification is perfect when produced from age two, and this is currently the oldest age that's dependable [I]--though symptoms may appear as early as 12 to 18 weeks.

Regrettably, most children with ASD aren't diagnosed until after they're 4 years old, so they're overlooking the most opportune time to be receiving therapy. There are an assortment of motives for this, for example parents' reluctance to recognize and comprehend the intensity of the symptoms exhibited, in addition to a lack of trained professionals.

There's considerable evidence that early intervention may enhance social and communication abilities during infancy and this has the capacity to greatly aid in improving the child's later development. Furthermore, early intervention prevents debatable behaviour from becoming a habit.

Proper early therapy may reduce children's symptoms and may boost their general development by assisting them learn new abilities which will enable them to be independent during their lifetime. Since they are getting proper therapy at crucial developmental stages, children with disabilities are more inclined to obtain fundamental social skills and the capability to behave much better in social situations. All these are invaluable tools which will assist the kids to be independent need fewer providers as they age. In a nutshell, early detection can help the kids make the most of their strengths and give them the capacity for a much better, more independent life during childhood and well beyond.

Early identification may also benefit kids. Rather than noticing symptoms and stressing that something's wrong with their child, a historical identification allows parents to do it and start helping her or him. Under the advice of organizations and specialists like Alternative Behavior Plans (ABS), parents may start after the prescribed therapy to help their child improve during their developmental phases --setting the stage for substantially improved results.

Now we understand how early identification and intervention has been demonstrated to be most helpful to maximize the child's capacity to operate, the major question is that therapy will end up being effective. As stated before, ASD can't be avoided, but there are effective treatment options which could aid in improving behaviour, language and skills growth --and emerging therapies are still evolve.

The most effective naturopathic remedy for ASD, ABA is a qualitative treatment which utilizes systematic, evidence-based assessments to quantify outcomes in real-time dimension of behaviour. This guides intervention choices and any necessary alterations can be made on the basis of strong data. In reality, it's the sole remedy for ASD that's been designated as medically required and recognized from the U.S. Surgeon General.

A behavioral instruction program, ABA strengthens and promotes positive behaviour when negative ones that are negative. Furthermore, ABA educates children with ASD new abilities and how to use them in real-life circumstances.

Contrary to other service versions, ABA is a extreme therapy, with as much as 40 hours a week prescribed. Dramatic improvements are seen when children get early and extreme ABA treatment to construct their operational skills. Treatment can effectively assist with difficult behaviours, such as persistent behaviour, self-injury and pops and help children in areas like social and language skills.

Decades of research has shown that ABA's intensity of therapy is a crucial part of helping a child with ASD to learn new abilities, decrease problem behavior and create lasting gains. At a groundbreaking study conducted by Ivar Lovaas at the late 1980's, kids received 40 hours a week of intensive therapy for 2 to six decades. A 2016 study included into the present support for greater intensity therapy for children with ASD.

Furthermore, a variety of research have proven the best results are achieved when therapy intervention is started as soon as you can and using a high intensity (or hours) a week. 1 research [iii] revealed that children who have greater therapy intensity and longer treatment length gain favorable consequences in their own intellectual functioning, language and adaptive behavior. In another after research,[iv] exactly the very same researchers discovered a mix of intensity and length was the only predictor of and also the maximum contributor to treatment results.

Conclusion

The strain of caring for a young child with disabilities can be hard for families and parents. However, with the ideal approaches and aid for their kid, treatment can lessen the consequences of ASD and assist the child flourish. With prior diagnosis, therapy intensity and longer treatment duration, kids with ASD can attain statistically significant gains and optimum therapeutic outcomes.

Contact : [phone]

Visit url: https://www.empowertherapy.com/services/aba-therapy

#empowertherapy therapist appliedbehavioranalytics

[mrscorpio]

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