#rollo my love please come back T^T

[merakiui]

since you’ve been looking at captive octotrio again, might you have any captive orca Rollo thoughts to spare?

Omg I have plenty of orca Rollo thoughts!!!

Orca mers are usually such sweet, social creatures, but this doesn't apply to Rollo. Not since he was taken from his pod and put in captivity. He's quite gloomy, spending his days in solitude in his enclosure. When his only form of stimulation is swimming in laps and occasionally interacting with humans (even though he'd rather not), it makes sense that he'd gradually grow irritable over time. But there's one human he softens around and that's you. You always make his situation feel just a little less dismal whenever you're around, and he's grown to appreciate you and the little things you do to make his indefinite stay at the research lab tolerable.

Maybe he's kept there for breeding purposes so that they can breed and observe more orca mers in captivity. It's your job to get him relaxed enough so that you can collect sperm samples from him, and Rollo, despite his hatred and distrust of humans, feels like he's living a wonderful dream as he floats on his back in the water while you do your thing. Hehe maybe he isn't satisfied with this and decides that he'll just give you as many samples as you want (all inside, of course). <3 and he's so much bigger and stronger than you, so there's not much you can do when he props himself up in the shallow ledge and pins you down with his weight.

At the very least, he should be allowed this singular pleasure after all he's had to endure: the loneliness, the captivity, the separation, the tragedy of losing his little brother to the hands of humans... You try to tell him that it won't fit, that he can't do this, that he's supposed to listen and let you do it the right way, but Rollo disagrees. What do you mean 'the right way'? Obviously, this is the right way—the real way when it comes to copulation. And he's being sweet and gentle; unlike your kind, he isn't a monster. So there's really no reason for you to cry and struggle.

Your kind didn't listen to his cries, so why should he listen to yours?

But Rollo likes you, and so he won't kill you. You're not sure if that's a blessing or a curse.

[fictionfixations]

spoilers for the Glorious Masquerade event. if i messed up the name, you know what i mean.

you know how people make reaction fics

you ever wonder how the ppl back in NRC would've reacted about the Glorious Masquerade event

i cant help but think back to that look back in NRC with ace i think being like 'i bet theyre having so much fun'

meanwhile people are like nearly dying and shit LMFAO

like. 'SOOOO it was actually a cover to get a bunch of powerful up and coming mages-in-training, and then suck all of the magic out of them so they're magicless permanently. and then spreading it to the entire world because of that so everyone in the world becomes magicless, haha...'

no cause remember that moment where its like 'its covering my family.. they wont wake up..!' this shit was serious. and i am a sucker for seeing the consequences of things, which we didnt really get to do.

cuz

we were all like 'dont say anything until after we leave. we dont care if you confess your crimes or not cause it'll bother you forever and thats your punishment. kay?'

rollos just like 'wait. you just.. want to go to the party..!? still..!?'

'duh.'

idias like 'NOOOOO'

--

spoilers for the Harveston Sledathon

like uh uh. theres.

THIS POST where it was talking about how the diasomnia peeps wouldve found out how sebek almost died (in this one they just find out from rsa and theyre like WHAT)

which. i love. so much.

and theres already not that many reaction fics as far as i can tell (ive only found one.)

so just like. EveNTs. COME ONN. where crazy shit happened that not a lot of people are in the know of (or at least yet)

[renee-writer]

Love Comes First Chapter 6

AO3

“I need to speak to you girls,” She says as they walk in after school, “Peter, please take Leah out to the garden. Rollo needs a walk.” He takes her and the dog out. James isn’t home yet, having a meeting after school.

 

“What did we do?” Faith asks.

 

“Think on it.” Said as she directs them to seat on the couch opposite her.

 

They share a look. “Mama, whatever it was, don’t you have more important things to worry about?”

 

She lifts her eyes to Tabitha. “Like what?”

 

Both girls squirm. “James,” Faith finally bursts out, “and the situation he is in.”

 

“Yeah, we aren’t even dating anyone and he has gotten his lass…” she trails off at the look on her mama’s face, “hasn’t he?”

 

“Eavesdroppers don’t always get the whole story, especially when they send their baby sister to do it for them. James’ lass, Sophia, isn’t pregnant. They have been out on one date,” she looks intently at them, “she will be coming by to meet all of us tonight.

 

We will all be on our best behavior. James believes that she may be the one, the lady God made to be his wife. I know it is soon but sometimes you just know.”

 

“That is why…” Faith flushes, “sorry mama.”

 

“Aye, sorry mama.”

 

“If you need to know something, you will be told. If not, do you need to know it”

 

“No mama.”

 

“No mama.”

 

“Good. Now off to do your homework.”

 

“No! You can’t all be standing there like the Von Trap  family.” James shakes his head at seeing his siblings, lined up by age, from Faith to Leah.

 

“Come now,” Jamie struggles not to laugh, “a bit more natural, eh.”

 

With giggles they break the queue, scattering around the room.

 

“Thanks da.” He pats him on the back.

 

“It is going to be alright.”

 

Claire comes in carrying a tray with varieties of crisps on them. A severe look to her youngest, who gather around it like vultures. “Our guest first.”

 

They move away with sighs. A knock on the door has James’ heart jumping.

 

“Steady.” He whispers to himself before heading towards it.

 

“I brought flowers for the table. Mum says never to come as a guest without bringing a gift.” She talks fast as she presents them to Claire.

 

“How thoughtful. Thank you.” She takes them from her.

 

“Spirits seemed inappropriate for a pastors home. Not,” she is quick to add, “that I would be able to buy any. My parents if…”

 

“Sophia, take a breath.” James softly says as he takes her hand. It steadies her and Peter thinks he might be right. She might be his brother ‘s person.

 

“Allow me to introduce my family,” Jamie takes over, “I am Jamie, my wife Claire, Faith, Tabitha called Tabby, Peter, and Leah.”  He touches each in turn.

 

“Sophia Louise. Very nice to meet you all.”

 

“It is very nice to meet you Sophia. Will you have a seat?” Claire offers. They all find seats in the huge living room. James and Sophia sitting side by side on the couch. Faith sits with them.

 

“So, you like my brother, eh?”

 

Before either of her parents can get on her, Sophia replies, “I do. He is different than other boys I have known. Respectful, kind, his manners are brilliant. He treats me like a lady.”

 

Jamie and Claire beam at her characterization of their son.

 

“That is all well and good,” Faith says, “but does he kiss well.”

 

“Faith Brianna!” Claire glares at her. Peter and Leah exchange looks. Tabby squirms. Jamie starts to stand until his wife takes his arm. James shoots daggers at his sister.

 

Sophia is the only calm one. “In truth, Faith. I don’t to yet. As I said, your brother is a gentleman.” The whole room relaxes.

 

“Good.” His mama beams at him. He drops his head a bit as a blush rises on his face.

 

“Nothing to be ashamed of son.” His da’s words bring a smile.

 

“So,” Leah addresses Sophia, “what do you want to be when you grow up? I want to be a barrister. Mama and da say I am the best arguer in the house.”

 

“Or spy.” Peter says.

 

Sophia directs her megawatt smile to the children.

 

“Both sound quite intriguing, to be sure. Myself I want to be a teacher.”

 

“Very nice.” Claire grins at her.

 

“A wonderful profession.” Jamie adds.

 

“Hey at least you know. James changes his mind all the time.” Faith reports.

 

“I least I have some ideas.” He is stung by her perceived criticism in front of Sophia.

 

“Well I have time yet.”

 

Jamie stares at them both in turn. Order is restored.

 

“What are some things you thought about?” Sophia asks James.

 

He completely relaxed, the tiff with Faith completely forgotten about.

 

“Thought about something in public service, police, military,” his mama and girlfriend both utter sounds of dismay. Jamie smiles in pride, “but I want to be here for my future children like da is for us. So, I am learning towards something in the medical field.”

 

“Not the ministry?”

 

“No. Sorry da.”

 

Jamie waves it off. He is proud of his children. They don’t have to follow in his footsteps for that to be true.

 

“I am,” all turn towards Peter, “I want to be a minister.”

 

“Well, that was quite an interesting tea.” Claire says as she prepares for bed.

 

“Aye, to find out Peter wants to be a minister,” he grins, blinking back tears, “ and James is thinking about the health care field.”

 

“He has always liked maths and science. It fits. I am just glad he decided against something dangerous.”

 

Jamie grins and pulls her close. “God will protect them, you know.”

 

“I do. He gave James, Sophia. They fit. The family loves her.”

 

“They all behaved. A miracle. Aye, you’re right. She fits. Peter, a minister,” He beams as they get in bed, “we are doing good.”

 

She cuddles up against him. “We are.”

[schoenht]

hi!! is it okay if i request headcanons for lilia, rollo and riddle dating someone who's a very quiet person and they don't show their emotions that often, however, they're still very affectionate, they just show it in a different way? for example, they really like to make gifts for their boyfriend and they also like to hug them when they least expect it! they still wish they were able to talk about their feelings for their bf more easily, but they hope that he doesn't think they're too cold or anything like that! thank you if you write this!!

p.s. totally not one of your homies

↳ quiet but affectionate s/o

characters: lilia vanrouge, rollo flamme, riddle rosehearts

genre: fluff.

a/n: HELLO TOTALLY NOT ONE OF MY HOMIES !! this was great I’M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG PLS

LILIA absolutely adores you, even if you are not as talkative and contrast to his way of showing his love for you. He knows that you show your love in your own way and he always looks forward to receiving these actions. If you give him a gift, expect to find him taking great care of it. He has a collection of your gifts and at night, when he cannot sleep or does not want to, he stares at your gifts with the softest smile on his face, thoughts of you running through his mind. It is not easy to catch him by surprise when it comes to hugging him, but when you do, he chuckles and immediately hugs you right back. He thinks that you being able to sneak up on him is adorable and even more so when you are grinning at him as you tighten your grip around him. He does not let you go for a while after this though, be prepared.

"Ah, you have surprised me, my love! But of course, I am glad to see you here. I always am glad to see you."

ROLLO likes how you will show your love in all sorts of other ways because he is the exact same. He does not say it out loud, preferring to do little actions for you. If it involves any assignments or anything work-related, he is going to help you. But when it comes to you showing your love for him in tiny gifts, he can't help but feel flustered about it. He takes good care of your gifts, placing them on his desk when he can. No one is allowed to touch them, he glares at anyone that tries. But sometimes, if you lurk around his office, you can find him softly smiling at the gift he has placed on his desk. He does not push you to speak about your feelings, your form of showing affection is enough to tell him. Catch him off guard with a hug is quite easy; he always gets flushed afterwards, though. He tries to cover his face with his handkerchief but it always ends up falling and he becomes redder by the second. He hugs you back and does not let you go, if only to save himself from your light teasing at his red face.

"Perhaps next time...you could give me a warning? No? I will someday catch you off guard in return. But in the meantime, please have this. It reminded me of you and I thought you would like it."

RIDDLE does not see this as any sort of problem since he enjoys your presence over anything else. He will spend so much time with you that he does not mind the silence, it is comforting. He does not expect to get gifts from you or have you help him. When you help him even without him asking, he is always surprised because he did not have to say anything yet you were more than willing to help. Your gifts all make him turn red but his eyes are so bright and fascinated by what you have given him. He says he will treasure it forever and he does. He keeps it safe in his room and puts it where he can see it first thing in the mornings. Hugs that catch him off guard are secretly his favorite because they usually come when he's stressed internally and you're there to help him out. You are just his favorite person to be around and he would prefer being with you than anyone else.

"Would you care to accompany me to the shop? I wish to buy something of importance. ...It does not involve our tea party tomorrow, I just want to know what kind of tea you like, that's all! But will you come with me?"

[pudding-parade]

Hello!:) I'm a fellow simmer and decided to return to ts3. I do have my old downloads folder, but it's... Redundant out of measure. Could you share your resources, please? Tumblrs, websites, creators, cc-finds blogs, Pinterest boards, may be, even noob proof conversion tutorials? Thanks in advance.❤️

Hi there and welcome back to TS3!

I'm probably not the best person to ask this question of, because I don't have a go-to list. Basically, I see stuff around and download or I'll want a specific sort of thing for a lot I'm building and then do a google search (usually an image search, since that seems to work the best for the purpose) and then follow rabbit trails from there. And any kind of list I make will definitely exclude at least one source that I use a lot. Because my brain is as old as the rest of me, alas.

Cutting the rest because babble.

Of course, there's old standbys like Mod the Sims and also The Sims Resource (if you can tolerate the hoops they make you jump through to download unless you pay them *eye roll*). At T$R, I specifically have a lot of stuff made by Mutske, MsBarrows, SIMcredible!, Wolfspryte, and CycloneSue, either because they make stuff that "completes" EA objects or because they tend to make stuff that fits with my aesthetic. Aside from those, I have quite a bit of stuff from Blacky's Sims Zoo (worlds -- especially roadless ones -- as well as objects and clothing that work well with my rustic-but-not-necessarily-historical aesthetic), and Around the Sims. I've also been known to peruse Sims-New, one of the Russian re-upload sites that everyone hates, because they at least give links to the original upload so that I can download from the original uploader, but in some cases the re-upload is the only working link I could find of some stuff I've wanted, especially older stuff.

For mods, you want pretty much everything on the NRaas site if you want your game to run smoothly, and while you're there look up Ani's mods that are hosted there. For my more rustic style of playing, @anitmb (for mods of Ani's that aren't hosted on NRaas), @zoeoe-sims, and @mspoodle1 have some mods and modded objects that are invaluable for my purposes. If you're interested in lighting mods, then @brntwaffle's are lovely, as are @nilxis's (who also makes lovely, albeit usually large, custom worlds).

I don't do a whole lot with custom clothing. Most of what I have I got through finds sites and from SimsZoo, but there are some creators on T$R that make stuff that looks nice in-game and that I have some things from. Bill-sims, Harmonia, and Ekinege come to mind. Also, for men's stuff, download @nectar-cellar's stuff. It's lovely, and it's hard to find good-looking men's stuff that isn't an endless array of sloppy jeans, t-shirts, and hoodies.

Other miscellaneous things: I follow @katsujiiccfinds and @emilyccfinds where I've found stuff I wanted in lots of different categories and then looked and found other stuff from the same creator. I have lots of objects that @martassimsbook has converted to TS3. I get hairs mostly from @ifcasims, @plumdrops, @chazybazzy, and @rollo-rolls, but I replace the textures of any that I download with my own so that everything's consistent. If you want custom worlds, @sims3customworlds is an old blog that hasn't been updated in years, but it has a nice collection of links to lots of different kinds of worlds, some of which I haven't seen on other "finds" blogs. Also, for worlds and lots and such, I like My Sim Realty because their style is in line with my own preferences. @danjaley has lots of stuff that’s good for historical scenarios, which often works for my purposes, too.

And...I think that's it? I'm sure I'm forgetting a ton of people but, like I said, mostly I just cruise around the internet following rabbit trails and seeing what I can find.

[fandomficsnstuff]

Healer - Part 10

Ivar x Modern!Reader

(Warnings: (Y/H/T) is Your Hometown, also Ivar is being a concerned drama queen)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You watched Rollo with intrigue, eyes slightly narrowed as you watched him, Ivar’s hand on your thigh, as it usually was, while they were talking. The older man glanced at you finally after stating his one condition for helping, that Björn was spared, his eyes taking in every detail of you before looking back at Ivar “who is this?” he asked, gesturing to you and Ivar smirked pridefully, straightening his posture and looking at you with so much love and adoration “my wife. She and I will marry when we have taken back Kattegat” Ivar informed, looking back at Rollo who nodded, giving you a polite smile “welcome to the family, may I ask where you are from?” he asked and without thinking you answered “I was born in (Y/H/T) but I lived in Chicago for a while before I got here” you said, only realising afterwards that he had no idea about anything, where you were from, how you got here, which you honestly wasn’t quite clear on either, and how long you had been here. Rollo looked at you confused and you cleared your throat “it’s, uh… complicated” you added, Rollo nodding hesitantly before looking back to Ivar.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You frowned as you stared at your food, Hilda noticing and kneeling down by your side on the tree stump. You were back where you were not that long ago, only it was a different location, the same people protecting you. Ivar had predicted the length of this battle to be longer than before, therefore making sure you had water and food with you so you wouldn’t grow hungry or thirsty, the thought sweet and heartwarming but right now you just felt sick. You hated when Ivar went on without you, even when he sailed to England with his father for the first time, you hated how he was away from you even then. You hated being left behind for every battle, when they took York, when they first battled Lagertha, and now again. You felt as though the food in front of you was unappetizing, even though it was far from it, the water in the leather sac having no appealing qualities either. Hilda sighed and sat on the ground beside you, watching you for a bit longer as you battled internally, trying to force yourself to eat it as you felt your stomach growl. Eventually you ended up putting it back in the small bag you had with you, Hilda sighing at the act “you do not like the food?” she asked and you shrugged “I do but-... I don’t know… I don’t like how Ivar is in danger, out fighting while I just sit here” you admitted, Hilda giving you a soft smile in sympathy, gently rubbing your upper arm in an attempt to comfort you.

You picked up the leather sac that had water in it, debating if you should try, Hilda giving you a reassuring nod, making you try and take a sip of the water. You forced it down, not feeling any of the sickness fading, quite the opposite, actually. You frowned, handing the water hurriedly to Hilda, accidentally spilling some on her before you turned away, your knees hitting the wet ground as you emptied your stomach into the ground, Hilda holding your hair back with a worried frown as you threw up, gently rubbing your back in comfort. You winced at the taste left in your mouth, Hilda helping you to sit on the stump again, handing you the water to try and clear the taste from your mouth. You noticed how worried she looked and once you had cleared your throat with water you spat it out to the side, groaning at the remaining taste in your mouth “I’m okay. Just nervous, I think” you said, Hilda nodding with a suspicious look in her eyes.

You could still hear the battle sounds, swords hitting swords, screams and yelling, it made you feel as though you were going to throw up again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You nervously bounced your leg as the sounds of battle had faded, your hand mindlessly rubbing the tattoo on your wrist nervously, sort of wishing it was one of those bracelets where if you touch it, the other person with the same bracelet feels it vibrate, letting them know that you are thinking of them. You heard horse hooves and shouts, followed by clear sounds of wheels, your eyes wide as you got up, Hilda by your side as Ivar came into view on his chariot. Without thinking you ran to him, getting up in the chariot and hugging him, ignoring the blood that covered him as one of his arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly against him for as long as you needed. You parted from him and kissed him, ignoring the copper you tasted on his lips, you knew it wasn’t his, he wasn’t hurt. You parted from the kiss, kissing his sweat covered cheek that had small splatters of blood on them, hugging him tightly again “you’re okay” you whispered, mostly to yourself, Ivar giving a small nod in affirmation, about to say something when his eyes caught the worried eyes of Hilda. Hilda gestured to your vomit on the forest ground while you were still hugging him, causing Ivar to frown worried, fear instantly taking hold of him, were you sick?

“Let’s go home” you said with a big smile, Ivar nodding as he forced a confident smirk, but he continued to think about how tired you looked, what if you were sick? No, you were a healer, you’d know it if you were… right? Ivar didn’t have any more time to think of it as you sat down on the floor of the chariot, smiling up at him and leaning your head back, eyes closing as Ivar drove towards Kattegat with you by his side.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You smiled as you got out of the chariot, watching Ivar smirk at you, sitting still, just watching you, until Hvitserk approached, holding a woman by her arm. She looked disheveled and paranoid, her eyes all over, scanning everyone but Ivar and Hvitserk. You frowned and glanced at Ivar who seemed to tense at her presence, anger clear in his eyes as you approached him, standing by the front of the chariot and reaching up, gently touching his arm, bringing him back to reality, to you, his gaze softening as he looked at you. You gave him a soft smile “who is she?” you asked quietly, Ivar’s gaze glancing to the woman and then back at you, jaw clenched “Margrethe” he said through gritted teeth and instantly your smile faded, your eyes going back to the woman Hvitserk were still holding onto. You bit your lower lip in thought and walked over to Hvitserk “I’d like to talk to her, bring her to the Great Hall?” you asked, Hvitserk nodding “I’ll be there soon” you called after Hvitserk and walked back to Ivar with a sweet smile, Ivar looking at you confused. You smiled softly when you noticed his confusion “I want to know why any woman would be as cruel as she was to you” you explained. Ivar had told you more of Margrethe, how she was the one who told Sigurd and his brothers he couldn’t have sex. How she humiliated him after he was so vulnerable in front of her, it made you furious that a person could be so cruel.

You walked into the Great Hall, nodding at Hvitserk who left you alone with Margrethe, her eyes downcast as she nervously looked around, she seemed sort of twitchy, disoriented, even. You frowned at her “hello, Margrethe” you said, her eyes nervously glancing at you but never making it all the way to your face “y-you’re the one with Ivar” she said and you nodded “yes, we’re going to get married” you explained, Margrethe laughing “why? He cannot please a woman, he is not a real man” she said and you glared at her, jaw clenched as you took a step closer to her “Margrethe… I am a healer, I took an oath to do no harm, to help people, with that being said…” you said and grabbed her by the hair, bringing her closer to you “don’t talk of my husband that way” you warned, Margrethe being scared but forced it away, being as dumb as to taunt you further “he is mad! He tried to kill me!” she snapped with a grin, making you scoff “be glad I won’t” you growled, letting go of her, pushing her away from you with such force that made her fall to the ground with a yelp “if I ever hear you talking of Ivar that way, ever again, I will break my oath for him” you warned, looking up and finding Ivar at the edge of the hall, standing in the doorway with a shocked Hvitserk, but Ivar, Ivar smirked proudly, limping closer, not even sparing Margrethe a glance on his way to you. Ivar’s hand went around your waist as he reached you, pulling you against him and kissing you with a passion that made you moan into his mouth, Ivar’s hand reaching down and giving your ass a firm squeeze before parting from you, smiling softly, lovingly at you before glaring at Margrethe, his mood changing so quickly you’d think he was pregnant and having mood swings due to hormones.

Margrethe crawled slightly back under Ivar’s heavy gaze, clearly scared of him and you scoffed at her, looking back at Ivar “come on, she is not worth it” you whispered, Ivar smirking at you and limping towards the bedroom meant for the rulers, you hot on his heels with a giggle as Ivar held your hand. You cast one last glance over your shoulder at Margrethe as Hvitserk pulled her up by her arm again, dragging her out of the hall with an annoyed expression as she tried to literally seduce him on their way out. You smiled softly at Ivar as he held the door for you, you bowed your head at him with a grin “why thank you, my king” you teased, Ivar scoffing and smirked at you “you’re welcome, my queen” he teased back, earning a quiet laugh from you. Ivar watched you as you looked around, his playful demeanor turning worried and concerned, a frown on his brow as he watched you, it was only when you turned and saw his worried look that you yourself frowned “what is it?” you asked, Ivar limping closer to you, cupping your face in one of his hands, feeling you lean into his touch, making him almost groan out of satisfaction, but his worry for you by far won over his desires. “Are you sick?” he asked flat out, seeing you tilt your head confused at him, prompting him to sigh and look away, eyes downcast before looking back at you “I saw that you had been sick… are you hurt? Are you sick?” he asked frantically and you sighed “no, Ivar. I-... think I was just worried about you, that’s all” you said, trying to make him worry less but he just kept on frowning, his eyes studying you for a few seconds before he grabbed your hand and turned to walk out of the room “we will go to the healer” he said as he pulled you along, not that you resisted to begin with.

“What- Ivar I am a healer” you pointed out and Ivar shrugged “I do not care, we will go to a healer” he declared casually, continuing to drag you along to one of the healers, Katria, who had sailed back with Ubbe when he sailed off while you were taken captive in England. “Ivar, I am not dying” you once again tried to convince him you were fine, though you might as well try to convince a brick wall it can grow wings and fly. Ivar scoffed “how do you know, hm? What about one of those sicknesses you once told me of, cancer? A silent killer, you had called it” he said and you instantly regretted every medical information you had ever told him, your eyes nearly rolling out of your head as Ivar led you to his chariot, driving off the second you held on to him “Ivar, I am just fine” you tried once again, Ivar just straight up ignoring you at this point “Ivar, I am not coughing up blood or-” Ivar just shook his head “maybe not yet” he cut you off, making you groan “it is not cancer, I am not coughing up blood, there’s no blood when I... relieve myself, no lumps in my breasts or any growth that wasn’t there before. I do not feel any pain, except a headache but that is because of this” you tried to reason with him, hearing him sigh annoyed “what if it is something else, hm? What if it is something you ate?” he asked and you sighed “then I know what to do, and it is not something I ate” you tried once again but fuck it, you were already at the cabin at the outskirts of Kattegat. You sighed tiredly as you got off of the chariot, watching Ivar get off as well and limp towards the cabin, fully expecting you to follow, which you of course did.

As you walked inside you sighed again, Ivar glaring at you before turning to a surprised Katria “healer, my wife is dying” he said and you rolled your eyes “I am not dying” you retorded, Ivar scoffing and glaring at you again before looking at a very confused Katria “well, heal her!” he ordered and gestured to you as if Katria was the slowest person in the world and he was in a hurry, poor woman probably just wanted some peace and quiet, and then along comes the biggest drama queen of all, Ivar the Boneless himself. You rolled your eyes again and walked up to Katria “I am definitely not dying” you stated again, glancing at Ivar as you said it before letting Katria lead you to a room to examine you, Ivar following behind, not getting the hint that he should probably stay outside “stay here, Ivar, I will be back shortly” you said with a soft smile and Ivar, puppy eyed and everything, cautiously nodded and sat down on a chair, anxiously watching you disappear behind a wall.

-------------------------

Tags:

@not-another-viking-fanfic-blog

[mymelodyheart]

All I Want For Christmas Is You Chapter 11 ~One More Day~ The Final Chapter

Previously in Who the Hell is Harry? ...

They lay there like that for a long while, listening to the fireworks subside until only a few isolated booms from a distance could be heard. Their breathing and heartbeats harmonised, bodies interlocking to fit each other. Finally, Jamie eased himself off Claire, kissing her lips tenderly before disposing of the condom. 

Moments later, when he returned, she was on her side, watching him with a satisfied smile. "Happy New Year," she said hoarsely.

Jamie got into bed, pulled her into his chest, and bit her earlobe. "Happy New Year to ye tae. That was the best New Year firework display I've ever seen." 

She laughed and slid an arm across his waist. Nuzzling her nose on the hollow of his throat, he felt her smile against his skin, but her hold on him remained only for a few seconds before she passed out cold.

Not wanting to disturb the perfection of the moment, he gathered her closer and whispered, "I love you," into her hair, hoping and praying that the New Year will bring them together for good.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

  Laughing, Jamie and Willie noisily strode in from the kitchen backdoor at ten in the morning with Rollo in tow. They found Annalise and Claire making shortcrust pastry for the Cornish pasties and preparing sandwiches for lunch. Apparently, the boys were expecting a few of their mates to come over and help with a project.

With no forecast of rain for the whole week, the brothers had decided to knock down Jamie's old shed and build a new and bigger one. A day ago they'd torn it down, cleared the debris, levelled the ground for the extension, laid down some slabs for support and poured the cement for the foundation. This morning, they've completed the base and put up the wall frames, including the waterproof sheeting.

"Good morning, ladies." The brothers said simultaneously, making the girls smile in acknowledgement. Willie gestured for Annalise to follow him, leaving Jamie and Claire alone.

Jamie washed his hands, made himself a coffee and came around to where she was stood dropping cubed butter into the flour. "Have ye seen our progress with the new shed yet?" he asked. But before she could reply, he leaned in and gave her a swift kiss on the lips, making her knock the carton of milk over. 

Claire gasped, and Jamie grinned with triumph for catching her off guard. He brought his cup up to his smiling lips and winked.

"I have," she laughed, picking up the milk and wiping the countertop. "Are you sure, it's a shed you're making out there and not a small house?"

He leaned back against the counter and smiled. He'd taken off his jumper and was now only wearing a white long-sleeved t-shirt that stretched across his chest, showing the definitions of his toned muscles and broad shoulders. His eyes gleamed in the soft morning light, and Claire thought of how handsome he looked, making her heart pick up a little.

"It's a shed, but I thought while I'm in the process of restoring it, it would be a brilliant idea to build an additional extension for when ye come over for a visit, and ye wish to write. I'll have a huge window facing the field so ye can look out when ye need an inspiration. It's a grand view overlooking the greens. I'll even soundproof it for ye, so ye willnae be distracted by outside noise."

She arched an eyebrow in surprise. These past few days, she started to notice a lot of new items cropping up in Jamie's cottage. There were a couple of floral throw cushions she'd never seen before. And after Annalise had casually mentioned how much Claire missed her mermaid blanket, a handmade crochet mermaid tail blanket had shown up one night on his sofa while watching a movie. His cupboard was now fully stocked with her evening herbals such as chamomile, Valerian root and lemon balm tea. There was even a pair of soft fluffy memory foam slippers, waiting for her whenever she stayed over. Somehow, she was sensing a sense of permanency and more and more each day, she was starting to feel she belonged to him and his home.

Claire tried not to examine it too deeply and focused more on enjoying the moment, but it was getting harder. Because as each day slowly neared to her departure date, the hollow in the pit of her stomach became wider. And tonight was her last night with Jamie.

"Well, I suppose I won't see the finished product until I come over for a visit," she said with a little sadness in her voice.

Sensing the shift in mood, Jamie put down his cup and closed in on her, his fingers coasting past her jaw into the back of her neck, gently urging her in. He stilled for a moment, smiling an inch from her lips, as she inhaled him, his masculine smell, the coffee on his breath, the faint intoxicating scent of his aftershave mixed with sweat. Then he closed his eyes and kissed her.

"What do ye want to do on yer last night? Fancy going out?" he breathed against her mouth.

She swallowed and shook her head. "Shall we stay in?"

He cupped her face, opened his eyes and held hers with his. "I was hoping ye would say that." 

"You don't want to say goodbye to Annalise? It's her last day, too," she half-teased. 

"I think she'd want to spend her last night with Willie," he said seriously this time. He glanced down at her lips. "As I do with ye. But I want to spend the evening, not saying goodbye but making memories." He looked back up at her. "Memories that will bring ye back to me sooner."

Her heart pounded. She knew what Jamie was trying to say to her. 

She smiled at him. "I'd like that too, Jamie."

"Good, that's settled then."

..........

When Claire and Annalise brought out the Cornish pasties, sausage rolls and sandwiches for lunch, they arranged them on a makeshift buffet made out of wooden planks so the men could help themselves. Although it was in the middle of winter, the sun was out, and it was a lovely day to sit outdoors and soak up the heat. The hungry men descended on the food and sat on the benches Willie had earlier put out. Jamie filled his plate and grabbed a can of cider, and they sat on a thick blanket-covered ground, away from the rest, making sure the sun was on them since it was very chilly in the shade. 

"The shed is going to be massive," she observed, her chin in her hand. 

"That's the plan," he said, smiling at her, taking a huge bite of the Cornish pasty and humming in his throat to let her know how much he was enjoying his food. "Once the exterior is done, I'll send ye some photos, and then ye can tell me what colour ye want yer writing studio to be painted in." 

Claire looked at him for the longest time and then sighed. "Why are you doing all this, Jamie? It's not like we've known each other for a long time."

"But it feels like we've known each other for a long time. Ye know it too." He wiped his mouth with a napkin. "And if ye dinnae like the wee studio, I can always turn it into a workshop."

She smiled. "At least allow me to put some money into it."

He shook his head. "Dinnae fash. Most of the woods we're using are from work, and I got the rest of the stuff from the reclamation yard," he explained with the eagerness of a young boy, his eyes all lit up.

She wanted to kiss him right there and then, and realised how much she would miss this place, especially him. He looked so rugged and at peace with his surrounding and very much part of it. And knowing that he wanted her to be part of his world, made her even more determined to wrap up her work in London as soon as possible and start that writing career she'd always dreamed of. Although a little niggling voice in her head was telling her to slow things down, she dismissed it, knowing that for once, her life had a direction she could look forward to.

She noticed, he hadn't put back his jumper on and was only wearing that long-sleeved shirt.

"Aren't you cold?" 

He shrugged. "Here in the sun ...no' at all."

"I'm sat in the sun with you, but I can still feel the chill. Even after working all morning next to the oven, I could not for the life of me just wear a thin shirt like that in this Highland weather. Are you sure you're warm enough?" She frowned, looking over him.

"I am. Do ye want to sit on my lap so I can warm ye up? I have a few ideas on how to quickly achieve that." His eyes gleamed.

She crumpled a paper napkin and threw it at him. He laughed out loud, making the group of men look their way. 

The sun rose higher, and the sky was cloudless, a rarity at this time of the year. Somewhere on a speaker played a Simple Minds song  Don't You Forget About Me,  and Rollo and another dog ran back and forth in the open field. 

"I have something to ask you," she said, plucking a weed from the ground and watching the dogs frolic. "At the risk of sounding clingy and needy, I want to know if you've had a lot of girlfriends ...or say, sexual partners." She shrugged and looked down at her hand. "I-I can't help but wonder ...well, you know, not that I have anybody else to compare you to, but I must say you sort of know things, like when we touch and love each other. And you seem to be good at it. So I figured that maybe you've had a lot of experience." Her eyes suddenly widened when she realised what just came out of her mouth. She waved a hand. "I mean, I'm no prude or anything, and I understand a lot of people are early bloomers and have had a lot of sexual partners. I-I just wanted to understand ...if  it  comes naturally to you."

He grinned at her over his sausage roll as if he was pleased to hear the possessiveness in her tone. "I'm thirty years old, Sassenach, and in as much as I would have loved the idea of ye being my first, I must admit I didnae live the life of a monk. So aye, probably ye can call it that ... experience. But if ye must know, I've never been drawn to anyone like I am with ye."

She cleared her throat. "Fair enough, and since we're sharing our thoughts, I want you to know, I feel the same way." She bit her lower lip and thought over the words she wanted to say. "You kissing me on a first date, making love to me on our second, running after me at the airport on the third day. Very rash, I'd say." 

"Only with ye." He laughed. 

He slugged the last of his drink, and she got up and grabbed him another cider. "How about your ex-fiancee? Any lingering feelings for her still floating around in the ether?" She asked, sitting back down in front of him. 

Looking at her straight in the eyes, he took her hand and rubbed the inside of her wrist. "I will always care for her, Sassenach. But what I feel for her is nothing more than friendship. She's about to be married, and she wants me to be the godfather of Simon's child. And if ye must know, I'm thrilled she's found somebody to share her life. I think Simon would have wanted that for her too as do I ...someone who will take care of her and their child." He twined their fingers together. "What we have between us is rare. Like what ye said, I was rash, but that's ever since meeting ye. Somehow I've lost the ability to guard myself. When it comes to ye, I lose all perspective and control. It's chaotic and scary at the same time, but I wouldnae wish it to be any other way."

She gave him a smile. "Sweet and convincing as you sound right now, I'm still not allowing you to come to London and visit me. It's too risky. I want you to get better first, and one day you will. I believe that."

"I believe that too."

They stared at each other for a while, their surrounding fading into a haze, and it felt like there were only the two of them left. Until the dogs' barking reminded Claire, they weren't alone. "Right now, I would like to kiss you," she said softly. "But I don't know what I feel about people watching us."

A gradual grin crept across his face as he let go of her hand. "Weel, I dinnae see how I cannot oblige ye. Just close yer eyes and dinnae mind them lads."

Smiling, he leaned in close and brushed his lips on the corner of her mouth. When she thought they were done and started to pull away, he caught her lower lip with his teeth, keeping her still. After a few heartbeats, they began to kiss, achingly slow and gentle, his tongue probing into her to tease, taste and mate.

The cheers, sallies and whistles from the men nearby kicked-off almost instantly, and even Rollo started to howl in unison. Intent only on each other, they ignored the raucous banter in the background and continued to kiss.

"Ye ken I'm gonnae get a lot of pelters for this," he murmured against her smiling lips, his eyes closed.

 "Well, you might as well make it worth your while." 

His chest rumbled with laughter, as he kissed her again, causing more cheers to intensify, utterly oblivious to their surroundings.

"Ah, here's my not so wee brother!" a voice cut through their own bubble, making them both jump.

Jamie tore his lips away from her, and they both glanced up. "Jenny!" He immediately shot to his feet and hugged the petite woman wearing a puffer jacket, black jeans and a pair of wellies. "When did ye get back? I thought I'd see ye just after Christmas."

"Aye, had a last-minute change of plan. I left yer pressies in yer kitchen, and Ian says he'll call one of these days to see ye. He's just got some catching up to do with work."

Claire absentmindedly wiped her hands on her jeans and got up, noticing the other woman's delicate features and black hair tied in a high ponytail. At first glance, Jamie's sister could be mistaken for an adolescent with her five-feet height and small frame. The only tell-tale sign that she was a Fraser was the same blue eyes and dark hair she'd inherited from Brian.

"I told ye no' to bother ..." Jamie's voice trailed off as he looked past her sister's shoulder. "You brought company."

Still not acknowledging Claire, Jenny beamed at Jamie and then motioned for the beautiful tall dark-haired girl standing several yards away to come over. "Ye remember Geneva? Aye? Met her at the centre today and we're going for coffee after. Actually, she told me she's going to be yer new therapist. Yer former one had to leave temporarily for the south of England because of some family emergency. Now isnae that grand Geneva's back? She's going to stay here for good."

The girl, Geneva practically skipped, stopping short of throwing herself in Jamie's arms as her eyes briefly caught Claire's. "Jamie!" she greeted breezily, giving him a slack embrace. "Nice to see you again."

"Aye." Jamie nodded, looking perplexed. "It's been a while. Didnae realise ye were around." Not waiting for Geneva's response, he grabbed Claire's hand, drew her to his side and planted a kiss on top of her head. "By the way, this is Claire, my girlfriend," Jamie said, with a hint of finality in his tone. It was almost as if he was giving a warning to his sister that there would be no discussion about it. 

He must have noticed Jenny ignoring her presence and wanted to reassure her he was on her side.

Claire offered a polite smile, a few words of greeting and shook both women's hand, all the while conscious of Jamie's comforting hand on her back. Its weight served as a reminder the promise he'd made to her at the airport, lessening the sting of Jenny's lack of warmth.

"Weel, Jenny, Geneva, nice seeing ye both but I'm afraid I have to cut this short. As ye can see, I still have work to do and Claire and I are in the middle of discussing some personal matters. So if ye'll excuse us, both." Jamie gave his sister a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks for the pressies."

"I'll give you a call one of these days to arrange for our first round of session," Geneva said, smiling at Jamie.

Jamie nodded and then he firmly grabbed Claire's hand as they edged past them, without another word. Once alone in the kitchen, Jamie pulled her in his arms and sighed into her hair. "Dinnae mind my sister. I'm sorry she wasn't as welcoming to you as the rest of my family."

She swallowed. "I'm fine, really, and I understand. Jenny is only concern about you. Who is that girl, Geneva?" she asked.

He exhaled and stroke her hair. "A friend of my sister. She used to live in the village but moved to Glasgow a while ago. I guess she's back and will be my new therapist."

"Oh, alright."

Jamie hugged her tight. "I want ye to know, it's ye and me now, Sassenach. I need ye to trust in that. Ye with me?"

She buried her face against his chest, as Jamie's words plunged deep and unearthed the truth she'd been grappling with ever since the count down to her departure date begun. For years she'd been living in a fog in London with no sense of direction searching for something she never had a name for. Now that she'd found it, she didn't want to spend a long time analysing it while doing a job that never gave her a sense of fulfilment. She knew now Jamie would follow her anywhere in the world, but she didn't want him to do that and lose a piece of himself. This was the place where he belonged, and she would find a way to belong here too, with or without Jenny's blessing.

She snuggled closer into his hold. There was a reverence in the way he held her, and all she could think of how cherished, safe and anchored she felt. More than ever, she felt secure in his affections and more optimistic about their future. Jamie was right. All that was left was them. Who would have guessed a month ago she would have her life all planned out around this man in such a short time. 

Shivering slightly with excitement, her mind flitted through the countless tasks that needed to be done before she could start her new life. To get back to her Jamie.

Looking up at him, she smiled. "It's you and me now, Jamie and I trust in that. Always."

He looked relieved as he relaxed in her arms, telling her something had lifted off his chest.

..........

That night, Jamie watched Claire from the sofa as she rearranged her suitcase for the umpteenth time. His parents had given her a boozy fruitcake, homemade preserves and a bottle of single malt to take with her, and she'd insisted she didn't need another bag to make everything fit in.

Though her beautiful face looked concentrated and determined with the task at hand, her whisky eyes looked haunted, already dreading the time when she would leave. They'd had a light supper earlier and made love twice, and there was only one truth that mattered. They loved each other. Though he didn't want her to leave, he needed to let her go, for now, be the voice of reason and the face of courage for what might be a lengthy separation. God knows, he understood what she was feeling, but he didn't want their last night together to be filled with uncertainty. He wanted tonight to be a celebration of their love and the future to come. 

How many times had he thought of persuading her to let him come even for just a few days? But then again it wouldn't be fair to her if she had to worry about him every single minute of the day when she would be better off concentrating on the work she needed to do. He had enough on his plate as it was with his arboricultural business and his own mental health, and he needed to refocus his attention on that. 

He told himself, it was a wee sacrifice, and this time next year, she would be here for good.

With a sigh, he slid down to the floor and picked up her travel diary. 

He glanced up at her, waiting for her permission. When she nodded, he smiled. He liked that they sometimes communicated without talking, like it was their own wee secret, instinctively knowing how the other felt or when the other was looking trying to get one's attention.

He carefully opened the travel diary which was thick with postcards Claire had pasted on its pages. A few photos slipped out. Thinking they were postcards, he was about to slide them back into the diary, when he realised he was looking at one of Claire's family photos. His heart leapt, and his eyes immediately zeroed in on Claire's father, confirming his suspicion.  Harry is Henry Beauchamp! But how and why?  Goosebumps coasted down his back. He didn't know what to feel other than have this urge to laugh out loud. He'd never believed in spirits or ghosts, but something inside him told him tonight was not the night to delve into it. He needed to talk to his godfather and find out more about Harry. And find out why Claire's father's spirit was helping him.

He felt Claire's eyes on him, and they stared at each other for a few moments. He put the diary down, and he opened his arms, and she slid into his embrace and onto his lap. 

He breathed in the clean scent of her hair and savoured the length of her body, fitting perfectly to his. His hand travelled down the curve he'd memorised and worshipped with his lips and tongue and touch. And he realised this woman had healed him, with her presence and humour and stubbornness.  Harry must surely approve.

Her whisper drifted to his ears like a wisp of smoke. "I have to leave tomorrow." 

"I ken." 

"Oh, God, but I don't want to." 

He pressed a kiss to her temple. "I ken." 

She tilted her head back, a soft smile curling her lips. "Speechless for a change, huh?" 

He laughed, even though his heart was ripping apart at the idea of her gone from his bed and everyday life, realising what a gift she'd given him this holiday season. "So many things to tell ye but we have little time left. So I'm just gonnae hold ye like this to make up for the long winter ahead."

She blinked twice, a moist sheen apparent in her eyes. "Always the sensible and practical one, aren't you? " 

"I willnae be tonight." 

Claire caught his intention, and the longing they thought was already sated rose between them once more. He kissed her slow and thorough, taking his time, savouring the taste of chocolate, whisky and sweet honey, sinking deep and demanding everything. And she gave it all and much more, as they made love until all their energy had been spent and fell into a deep sleep in each other's arms.

..........

Claire walked out of the cottage and found Jamie waiting for her, her suitcase already deposited into the rental car. Willie and Annalise were in their own bubble locked in each other's embrace, whispering promises and secrets. She smiled at them, her heart hurting. Though Annalise's and Willie's relationship looked seamless, they'd had their own share of teething problems resulting in a couple of fights. Claire was glad they'd made up already before their departure. Claire walked with heavy feet over to them and cleared her throat, making Willie grinned boyishly at her. He let go of Annalise and gave her a big hug. Jamie did the same and enfolded her friend into a tight embrace.

"My brother and I are going to miss ye both" Willie whispered into her ears. 

"Me too. I heard from Annalise, we'll be seeing you in a couple of weeks. Is that right?"

Willie laughed and drew away. "Aye but unfortunately, I willnae be taking my brother with me. Someone has to be here to run the business." 

"I know." 

"I'll bring ye his love letters though," he teased.

She laughed.

With one last squeeze, Willie let her go. Claire watched Jamie said his own goodbyes to Annalise, making her friend tear up even more. Who would have thought, Annalise would be reduced to a bumbling mess when she had always been the one who had everything under control. Claire watched them both laugh with moisture in their eyes, both trying to downplay what they were feeling.

"Take care of my lass," Jamie whispered gruffly. "Ye have my number in case anything happens. Ye can call me anytime."

Annalise laughed and pulled Jamie in for another hug. Claire knew Annalise was trying to hide her own tears "You have my number too. Send me some candid photos or videos of Willie, whenever ye can."

"I will. I have a few embarrassing ones already on my phone. I'll send them once ye're in London."

Annalise wiped the tears with the back of her hand. "I'd love that."

Willie motioned Annalise over for another final goodbye. 

Her friend looked at Jamie before walking over to Willie. "I'll see you when I see you." 

Jamie nodded, smiling.

Claire faced Jamie, sliding her arms around his waist. "I don't like goodbyes," she whispered. "I wish I could teleport myself now to London, so I could just go back to bed and sleep off this feeling." 

Jamie caressed her cheek, his soft blue eyes filled with adoration. "Dinnae be sad, Sassenach. Enjoy yer trip back home and have a few laughs with Annalise. I took ye away from her a lot of times, keeping ye all to myself. Maybe ye can both catch up with whatever ye lassies talk about." 

"I'm glad I'll have her with me on the way home. She will at least keep me distracted from being sad." 

"Ye'll keep one another distracted."

They smiled, and Claire was about to say something when a loud excited barking filled the air, and she glanced over to see Rollo bolting towards them, tongue lolling with excitement. She laughed and let go of Jamie. "I haven't seen the kitten. Where is he?"

"Oh, Adso?

Claire frowned. "Adso?"

"Aye, I've named the wee cheetie, Adso. My ma used to have a cat called Adso, and I couldnae think of any other name, so I'm calling him that."

"Goodness, what a horrible name!"

Jamie laughed. "Try saying that to my ma. Anyway, he's at Mrs Fitz's for now until he's big enough to be on his own."

Smiling, Claire got down to her knees and hugged Rollo, burying her face into its warm fur and inhaling the doggy smell. "Going to miss you, handsome," she murmured, stroking the dog's back. "I'll never forget our first breakfast date. You were a perfect gentleman." 

Rollo replied by nudging her neck with his snout. 

She unfolded herself from the ground and walked towards the car, where Jamie waited. Annalise was in the driver's seat already while Willie leaned on the window talking to her.

Claire glanced at her watch. "I'll call as soon as we arrive home." 

"Looking forward to it." 

"Well, this is it." She stuffed her hands in her jean pocket and looked away, rocking to and fro on her heels. "Try that mediation I told you about so you don't have any nightmares at night." 

"I haven't had them for almost a fortnight, so I guess you have to talk to me on the phone until I fall asleep," he joked.

"That's very good, Jamie," she said, looking at him thoughtfully, this time ignoring the jest that was common in their conversation. "But try to look into meditation. If it isn't your thing, then at least you've given it your fair shot."

"I promise I'll give it a go tonight."

She smiled. "Good."

"And one more thing, Sassenach."

"What?"

"This." He braced her jaws with both hands and kissed her tenderly, the warmth and feel of his mouth, making her sigh, and her heart expand. When he raised his head, he had a beautiful smile etched on his face, almost beatific if it weren't for the mischief that always seemed to shine from his eyes. "I love ye, Sassenach." 

"I love you too. See you around?" Claire whispered, suddenly feeling the odd lump in her throat.

"I'll be waiting." 

She stepped away from his hold and quickly got into the car, allowing herself to take one last look at Jamie through her window. Time slowed in that instance, as if her brain needed a mental photograph, a keepsake to give her strength in the times to come. With his legs braced apart, one hand on Rollo's head, his coppery hair blowing in the wind, the leashed strength radiated in waves around him as his pale-blue eyes locked with hers. Annalise started the car, bringing her back into this moment, and he smiled and raised his hand in goodbye. She knew that took a lot of effort to keep that happy expression plastered on his face, so she smiled back, though wobbly, and blinked back the tears. A choked sob rose up from her throat, and it felt like she was losing a piece of herself she'd just found. 

With one deep fortifying breath, she tore her gaze away from him and looked straight ahead, as Annalise reversed and drove away. 

This time, she didn't look back. 

She knew if she did, she'd never leave.

Dear Readers, 

Well, here we are ... the final chapter of All I Want For Christmas. I thought I'd still be writing this until Easter. 😂 My problem with me is I get so focused on one scene and write too lengthy details about it, instead of quickly moving to the next. But hey, we live and learn. And the main thing is, I finished this story, even though two days later than I projected. 

If you think the ending to this chapter is sad, please don't be disheartened because there will be an arc or Part 2 as I wish to call it. 

As I mentioned in the previous chapter, I have decided to make this story into a series. The title of the series is, WONDERWALL. So if you wish to subscribe to the series, click here. As for part 2 of this series, I still have no definite date when I will publish it, but you can always subscribe on AO3 here or check my Tumblr blog if you wish to be updated.  

My plans are to start publishing the second part around holidays/special days. So either before Valentine's day or St. Patrick's day, all depending on how well I've rested and how quickly I can put the story together. 

Having said that, I thank you all for being part of the journey with this story, and I look forward to writing part 2 of Wonderwall for you. And also thank you so much for the kudos, feedback and follows. It warms my heart to know that you enjoy my story. Big hugs for that! 

So for now, I wish you good health and strength in these strange times. Keep the good vibes up, take care always and sending you all love. X 

PS: I will be updating the Masterlist of this story soon here.

[honestsycrets]

NSFW Alphabet || Bjorn Ironside

A = Aftercare 

“We can spend it in bed.” He shifts in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “It’s my only rest.” 

Quiet. Bjorn is known to stroke along your back or waist, drawing your body closer on top of his. Lazy conversations and staring off while you both talk about your future with one another.

B = Body part 

"Your legs.” 

He has a love of legs and round hips. His hands always seem to end up somewhere between your inner thighs. When he’s jealous, he might slip his hands around your hips to claim whats his in front of anyone else.

C = Cum 

“In you is good. On you is better.” 

His absolute favourite is pulling his dick from your clenching cunt, jerking his cock off over your round cheeks and cumming over them. Sure, he loves pounding you full too, but he’s a fan of facials as well. It makes him feel, well, powerful.

D = Dirty Secret 

“Someone small.” He takes his pick of a lot of slave. “Tiny enough that I can ravage her properly.”

Size difference is one of his favourite dirty little kinks. He enjoys finding women smaller than him and plucking them up over his large shoulders, walking off to ravage them in small areas that aren’t at all private. Because well, he’s Bjorn Ironside. Who is going to bother him?

E = Experience 

“I’ve been around.” 

He’s been around a long, long time. He’s learned a great many things in his travels. So if you can show him something new, his lips might curl into a curious smile as he lets you take control.

F = Favourite Position 

“Let me see it, yes-- fuck.”

Anywhere that he can see your body taking him in perfectly. Whether that is pounding you from behind, letting you ride him or bizarre positions that you suggest, he’s willing to give it a go. Just as long as he can watch.

G = Goofy 

“Be goofy with your children.” He snorts. “Not in our bed.”

No, he’s not. The only place in which Bjorn is goofy is with his children. He’s intent on keeping it that way.

H = Hair 

“Are you insulting me?”

He’s groomed, damn it! He’s a Viking, he isn’t about to go looking like something as disgusting as a Saxon.  When he is busy, he is known to get a little fuzzy-- in which you’ll have to bother him about cleaning up. 

I = Intimacy 

“If its safe.” He mutters under his breath. I love you’s? Those were in short supply.

It depends on whom with. If you’re a fuck buddy, of which he has many, he’s not prone to be too romantic. If you are a wife, well, sometimes he does tend to get a little mushy. It’s a secret you’ll have to keep for him.

J = Jack Off 

He’s been spoiled on tons of women-- but, when he needs to jerk off, he does it in front of a warm flame exploring his body. Trailing over his shaft and massaging his balls, jerking until he’s caught. And then, well, he just keeps going.

K = Kink 

“Where do we start?” He has so many.

As a man who has always had the heavy burden of the crown over his head, he has a preference for throne sex. The power is intoxicating-- and there’s nothing like having his little wife crawling on all fours to him.

L = Location 

“Do you want to see if Ivar will watch again?”

As a man with a exhibitionism kink, he’ll often try to get you somewhere semi-public. It’s a show of his conquest, sure. But more than that, it pleases him to make everyone know that you’ve been well pleased.

M = Motivation 

“Who needs motivation for sex?” His face screws, rationalizing the ridiculous question you just asked. “It’s sex!”

Sex is pretty basic for him, he doesn’t need much motivation. He has stress, he sees something tasty, well, he’s going to go after it. 

N = NO 

Being the proper Viking that he is, he isn’t a fan of pegging. If he’s going to have sex, he wants to do it on his fucking terms or not at all. Besides, that’s a position for bitches.

O = Oral 

“Spread them and see.” He leans over, sliding his hand in the line that forms your legs tightly pressed against one another.

The best way to keep a woman is to eat a woman. His dick wouldn’t mind some loving too, though. 

P = Pace 

“I can slow down-- as long as we don’t stop.”

On average, Bjorn is a man who likes his sex fast and hard. If something is emotional for him, sure, he’ll go for some slower sex. But if its not... well, don’t expect him to slow down a whole bunch. 

Q = Quickie 

“I enjoy them.” Bjorn folds his arms. “We can see how quickly we can fuck before the children come inside.”

There is no issue here for him. He likes long sex like any other man. But any man knows the desperation, the heat and mesh of two bodies makes him excited. Especially when its with a beautiful woman.

R = Risk 

“Is there something you want to try?” He asks, studiously considering you.

He’s listening to your requests. Bjorn has always been a man that is open to different sexual acts. Though, if its too weird, he might make a face at you. Be ware the face.

S = Stamina 

“Until you’re well pleasured. Well fucked. Well loved.”

The one that won’t stop going.

T = Toy 

“What toy?” Bjorn sneers. “What is that shit?”

No. He has this preconception that more sex toys means less time on his dick. Less dick time? Not happening. He’s your fucking sex toy, so get to using him for it. 

U = Unfair 

“I don’t have the patience for teasing.” Bjorn states-- but everyone. Everyone knows that he does love a woman who makes him wait to be ravaged.

Not at all a tease. Bjorn tends to be a man that wants to rip open his gifts right away. Both of women and things that you might get him. Though, he’s known to love a good chase.

V = Volume 

“Not much.” He rumbles under his breath. Making noise-- that’s for women.

Bjorn makes little noise. He speaks when he needs to speak, but usually he is filled with short grunts and deep growling moans until he cums one way or another.

W = Wild Card 

“If I could have it all?” His lips spread, curiously reasoning to himself the ambitions of his father. To have Aslaug-- and more importantly, his mother. “I would.”

With his love for women, Bjorn most undoubtedly could end up with a harem. He does have a love for women and a prick that doesn’t discriminate all that much. But, if not, he does enjoy breeding oversees and leaving a host of children behind.

X = X-Ray 

He grins.

Whether he takes after Ragnar or Rollo, he’s well endowed. Thick and proportionate to his big size. Obviously his prick has gotten a lot of love over the years-- more than any of his brothers by far!

Y = Yearning 

“I can’t make any promises.” He hums. “If you don’t come with me.”

High. He has needs to be met all the time. The more that his needs are met, the more he needs it. He’s like his father, though. He can go just a few days before needing some more.

Z = ZZZ 

Like his father before him, Bjorn is a man who stays awake in his thoughts. 

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke @arses21434,  @smileyparrots, @Moosemittens13, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @fangirls94, @mcuimxgine, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102, @astoryoffireandlight, @smokealone, @shaelyn102 @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly--canthrope@cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking , @inforapound @wichesterwife27 , @ladyofsoa

[leggypuppy]

An Ascension Incarnassial, Pt.1

Ao3

The diary of one Rollo Rutherford V, generally considered to be faked, or at least heavily fictionalised. It documents the progression of certain appetites. ‘Edited’ and (self)published by Nullimor Blest. 

(A gameplay-based fanfic, inspired by the narrative lets-play A Soul Healer’s Parable on SomethingAwful.)

In Which Matters Of The Family And It’s Associated Aunts Are Much Discussed

Foreword

Decay is not a function of living, just as the sea is not a function of the river. Delight is not found in earth or in salt. It is in copper and the cup, and it is in blood. These are the words of Our Delight, and the methods of their devouring. 

-Nullimor Blest

June 28th

Early start today. Rose at eleven. A lovely day. Shall enjoy wasting it. 

June 29th

Owe Aunt M. a painting. Do not forget!!

Visited Father. Still sick. Still bad tempered old goat. Not sure why I bother. 

July 3rd

Met M. at her hotel. Promised to bring canvas next lunch. Aunt dreadfully cross. Bought dinner to smooth things over- remembered why visiting F. is such a good idea. Allowances are a grace that keeps Aunts at bay.

Home. Slapped some ink on canvas, will call it impressionist. 

July 5th

Another sick-visit. F. not even awake this time. Left early to sidle down to club. Conversation much more lively.

July 6th

Slipped into Ori’s today while avoiding M. Picked up some books on a whim. Not really the reading type- so much else to do! But got into rather a bidding war over them. Purchase became a matter of principle. 

***

Examined prize.

Item:  Conjugation of boffin fodder. Lot of academic wish-wash. Next!

Item:  Dream journal? Some fellow’s been at it with a razor. Hardly think T. Galmier would be pleased. 

Item:  Latin. Not been up to snuff on that since school days, but no matter- this one has pictures. One could say illustrations. Certainly something. For later, more private perusal perhaps. 

***

Giddy evening, but came home without company. No matter- time to see what light amusements might be couched in latin. 

July 7th

Woke with face sticking to pages, mouth tastes like a riverbed. Thankfully did not fall asleep on a page too incriminating. Ink bled- won’t quite wash off. Blasted book. 

Puzzled out the title- Transforming Orchids. Something like that. Would account for the nature of some of the illustrations. Left it under pillow before going out. Seemed fitting. 

July 8th

An inspired evening! Don’t remember a thing. Sun is setting, delicious, red. Time for an encore. 

July 10th

Father dead. Train: 11.34. Details to follow. 

July 11th

Details not forthcoming. Arrived to find old stomping ground crawling with solicitors and clerks and accompanying insects. Have attempted to ask about state of business affairs, will, allowance. Was somehow always passed on with promise of solid answer. Answers remain distinctly immaterial. Shall have to attempt to put the foot down. 

***

Nobody will talk to me. Correction, Aunt M. rather voluble in my direction, but Aunts do not count as bodies. Rather they are sources of grief to sensible young men attempting to find out where his next club membership fees shall be coming from. 

Aunt M. already primed, so have fired her in direction of nearest solicitor. Rather an enjoyable conflagration to watch over a glass.

July 15th

Matters resolved in regions over one’s head and behind one’s back. Took cold comfort in solicitor’s new attitude, post close encounter with M. 

Short and short of it: Papa enjoyed company of money. Money did not enjoy company of Papa, and attempted to escape by any means poss. Exact inventory of means yet to be made. Project not likely to be completed this side of the century. 

Apparently, Father already tickling bottom of barrel for allowance. Suspect the old goat died on cue in order to wriggle out of providing any further. 

July 16th

Final funds released today as lump sum, along with contents of Father’s study. More precisely, contents of study desk drawers and walls. Furniture itself apparently a matter of debate. Numerous debts still to be cleared.

Has been suggested by some that I might want to take on some of the debts myself! Laughed until they went away. Might as well venture upstairs, take stock of my inheritance. 

***

Item: Papers

Item: More papers

Item: Personal diary, shorthand. Covers a few years. Entries understandably sparser towards the end.

Item: Book, found under diary. ‘Travelling At Night’. Vol 2. Would have ignored, except books F. favoured not really the multi-volumed sort. 

Item: Papers again

Item: Papers once more

Item: Godawful painting of a couple of women simpering in gauze. Banally provocative. 

Item: Papers

Apparently F. attempted to pulp and stuff a whole forest into his desk before he died. Spent a satisfying while folding some darts. Have a whole fleet of them at my elbows now. 

***

Poss should actually examine the things. 

***

Heroic effort made on my part made to stack and sort, but defeat claims me. In order to sort, had to read, and in reading, well- a house without walls? The colours of sleep? Whole lot of bally nonsense. The sort of nonsense that ends up hanging together, if one’s not careful. 

Only thing stopping me from doubling my dart fleet is the book. Has a ticket inside- Lot number stamped in the burnt orange of Oriflamme’s. 

Another second volume, same place. Both found nestled in fragments.

Coincidence, likely. 

Still. The colour of my father’s sleep seems to have also been red.

July 17th (technically)

Dreams.

My fault for sleeping in a dead man’s bed, but faced with a choice between this and my old room? Thought I’d take my chances with the ghosts here. 

The room is cold. My dreams were cold. My dreams were red. The room is not yet red. 

Had the fire lit, and am sat before it in bedclothes. The body at least is a little warmer.

Cold dreams. Red dreams.  

Thinking of Father. Found him here once, when I was younger and he wasn’t sick. The same hour of the morning, firelight behind him robbing him of detail. Hunched, wrapped in bedclothes. Writing. 

Am going to spend the rest of the night in one of the guest rooms. 

July 17th (proper)

F.’s diary relatively easy to decipher- still written in the same shorthand as when I lived with him. Learned to read that long ago. 

Diary contains much the same as papers before it- only lacks the redeeming feature of being suitable for dart fodder. Admittedly much more cohesive, being dated and already in order. 

A name stands out- Nascent Jemisin. F. seems to have been an admirer of the poor fellow. Even kept the article about their death- fire destroyed the whole of some nowhere place cross-channel. Alas alack for Kerisham*. 

Rather marks the beginning of the end for poor old Papa. Entries become a ramble, tho’ admittedly one that dips occasionally into a new colour of ink. Who knew the old man had such an imagination on him. 

***

Found a correspondence card stuck to inside of back cover. Another admiree? A co-conspirator? 

Shan’t know unless I reach out to them, shall I. 

Poss. ought to bring Aunt M. along as bodyguard. 

*Editor’s Note: No newspapers obtained from Kerisham itself at the time make any mention of a fire. The front page that date was chiefly concerned with rises in local sea levels.

[theboatbuilderswife]

balloonsofcoloursplease replied:

Floki does not deserve a new kid, he killed Athelstan and i´d be my money that Ragnar had to do with the death of Floki´s daughter. In Adittion Helga won´t pass of this season.

                   (    Hahahaaa, oh you have come to the wrong person with this. Prepare for a shitstorm.       1. Maude Hirst has already been seen on the s5 set. Do your research before you comment things like that.       2. Do you really think Ragnar would kill a child, while he obviously already STRUGGLED with having to keep Floki as a prisoner because like it or not he still regarded him as a friend. Ragnar actually reached out to Helga with food and warmth to survive the winter when he very well knew she was the one who freed Floki the first time. Not to mention Angrboda was already sick when he came to them. Please do realise that this show is set in the 9th century. Simple illnesses were deadly back then.      3. Floki killed dozens if not hundreds of people so why would one person or even any of that make a difference if he ‘deserves’ a kid or not ??? Rollo killed Arne, betrayed both his families multiple times, he got 3 lovely kids as well, your point being?   )

[normalforglastonbury]

I recently received an email from Normal For Glastonbury reader David Taplin, he’s been visiting the town since he was a young hippy in the seventies. He’ll shortly be moving back this way – to Street this time. He sent me a fascinating and funny account of his time here and agreed to me sharing it with you, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did.

“I was in and out of Glastonbury between 1971 and 1973 for varying lengths of time, initially attracted by the usual tales of extraordinary myths set in extraordinary landscapes. I spent not a few nights in the tower on the Tor – once in an apocalyptic-style thunderstorm chanting the Hare Krishna mantra all night with half a dozen others and expecting imminent and dramatic death by lightning-strike every minute. Mostly I was a guest of friends in a caravan parked on the Godney Road. In those days, caravans were parked semi-permanently in lay-bys all round Glastonbury’s outskirts, much to the disgust of certain locals, who would regularly hurl stones and other missiles at the vans on their way home after closing time. On one occasion, a stone shattered the window of a caravan and showered the baby sleeping inside with broken glass, luckily causing no physical harm. Once, we thought we were ready for them and surrounded a car which stopped outside at 11.30 one Saturday night (not that being menaced by half-terrified hippies armed with little more than righteous anger would have been much of a threat to burly drunken farmers’ sons) only to find a desperately apologetic innocent who’d stopped to tell us she’d just run over our cat.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Memories of that time are a tad disconnected and vague (well, we might have been a little stoned just occasionally). A poor girl hanged herself from a tree branch in a hippie camp in Wick Hollow. A band called Welfare State played live in Wirral Park. We visited a squat in the Assembly Rooms and went to evening lectures in the then Abbey Cafe by mystic luminaries such as John Michell and David Phillips. It was in a kind of terrapin hut in the, then, Lamb car park and run by a lovely couple called Chris and, I think, Aileen. The jukebox in there seemed permanently stuck on a single by Duncan Browne called “Journey”, at least during ‘72.

If we ever strayed into any pub other than the Lamb (now the Who’d a Thought It) or the Rifleman’s (which I believe was long ago called St. Michael’s Inn) we were firmly and immediately told to leave. We weren’t barred because we were dirty or smelly or tried to sell illegal drugs to other customers, it was enough that we had long hair and the men had beards; though we were also banned from the launderette after some idiot put his cow-muck encrusted sleeping-bag through one of the machines with unfortunate and unpleasant consequences. And then there was Rollo the Druid, cycling around in clanking armour – once while I was at a birthday party in Street, he appeared dramatically in the kitchen in full shiny kit and brought a huge sword crashing down on the birthday cake on the table. It failed to actually cut the cake but instead shattered the icing which pinged, shrapnel-like, across the room. Again, fortunately, there were no casualties. Fond memories too of cycling over to West Pennard to sample and buy half-gallons of semi-psychedelic scrumpy from a farm; then wobbling our way back to the Godney Road with demijohns swinging from the handlebars and the road appearing to swim ahead of us. Invincible? Us? Of course! Oh yes, and being collared scrounging from the skip at the back of the Co-Op in Silver Street by a furious local dignitary (possibly the Mayoress) “Beggars! In Glastonbury!” “No; we’re not begging; save your outrage for a system which wastes food like this!” we replied, in suitably sanctimonious tones. Some of my friends in the caravans had in fact managed to sign on (one rather doubts the easy possibility of this these days ) so every couple of weeks we’d cycle over to Street and try to hold our collective breaths as we passed the reeking Morlands factory, always unsuccessfully. It was actually possible to still taste the miasma as we rolled into Street to the dole office. Of course, there were beautiful days on the Tor (and Chalice Hill) feeling that we were at the centre of the world. It was less visited then and often completely deserted in winter, and had no path or steps to the top. As for the town itself, I imagine someone enterprising has already cornered the market in selling “Ha! We won!” T-shirts and badges. Returning after all these years now to Glastonbury for good (or at least just down the road to Street, which looks very smart and rather prosperous these days – probably largely due to being Clarksville) is quite an emotional feeling; it’s changed but then so have I, and it really feels like coming home”. David didn’t have any photos from his time in Glastonbury in the Seventies, but I found an album of pictures of the town in that period from by Mike Lidgley on Flickr, which Mike kindly gave me permission to use on this post. If you love old photos I highly recommend checking out his Flickr albums, there are thousands of wonderful pictures, many of which were taken in the South West.

Would you like to write a piece for Normal For Glastonbury about your experience of the town? Please get in touch. If you’ve enjoyed reading this blog please subscribe by email, ‘like’ the Normal for Glastonbury facebook page and contribute your own stories and comments, and share my blog and facebook posts (this is really important – it’s how I reach more readers!). See my ’Hire Me’ page if you’d like to pay me to help you with your own projects, you can also check out how to support this blog,

Would you like to commission me to write an article about what you do, for Normal For Glastonbury? You’d be reaching thousands of readers who love the Town. Please click here for more information.

All photographs copyright Mike Lidgley.

Glastonbury Town In the Seventies I recently received an email from Normal For Glastonbury reader David Taplin, he’s been visiting the town since he was a young hippy in the seventies.