#What is it about asking people to help build flatpack furniture that makes them so argumentative though

[the-busy-ghost]

Being a very unfit and moderately small person trying to build bad quality flatpack furniture is like do I take the lower back pain from trying to bend myself into bizarre positions or ask for someone else to help, bearing in mind that it will end in a lot of shouting

[writingwisterias]

The New Normal

Leon Kennedy x AFAB! Reader

Words: 4.1k Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY, beginnings of a Dd/lg relationship, Daddy kink, Soft Dom Leon, Comfort, Praise Kink, Oral (F receiving), Slight Overstimulation, fingering, Unprotected sex, Fluff Summary: You and Leon are moving in together and as he tries to get ahead of packing he finds out about your dirty little secret...but is he okay with?

Masterlist!

Hope you enjoy this fic! My requests are open check my blog for a list of character I write for. I also had loads of fun writing this so please give me some more suggestions for scenarios with this! Hope you all have a lovely day/night ~ Mads <3

The morning sunlight had begun to filter in through the windows of his apartment. The front door softly closed, breaking the peaceful silence of the place as Leon had returned from dropping you off to work. He always made an effort to drive you there whenever he was off, even going as far to make sure to stop by a coffee shop to treat you to a warm pastry and coffee. Leon sighed looking at the boxes that were piled up in his living room, your handwriting delicately labelling the contents of each box. You had told him that you would help unpack them when you got home from work. Making a point out of it, however he had nothing planned for his day and wanted to get rid of the guilt that ate away at him for getting sent on a mission on the week he was meant to help you pack. So this seemed like a perfect way to repay the favour.

He turned on the radio you had gotten him for christmas and started by moving all your boxes into the correct rooms via what the label said the contents was. The kitchen was the easiest as he only had to find a place for all of your cooking ware, not that it was a hard task to do as he barely had anything anyway. Not due to the lack of his cooking skills but rather it’s hard to be bothered to cook after returning from the missions he was being constantly sent on. Leon smiled at all the funky mugs you had collected or that people had gifted you even spotting a few of the ones he's gotten you from his travels. He began to imagine you sipping on your morning coffee leaning up against the counter in nothing but his shirt or seeing you choose which one he gets at christmas when you make your infamous hot chocolates for the movies nights. These were the memories that he hoped to make and ones he fought so hard to return home so he got the chance to experience them with you. Once he was satisfied with the placement of everything, even getting rid of a few of his old tattered cutlery to replace with yours, he moved onto the next room. 

Leon started by building the bookshelves and other flatpack furniture you insisted on buying. Smiling at the memory of you taking him shopping in ikea, asking him for his opinions and trying to stick to a budget even though he got paid well from his occupation, further proving to him that you were the one for him as you weren’t even bothered by his paycheck like all the ones before you. Once finished he opened the box that had all of your trinkets and began placing all of them on the shelves before moving onto the next bookshelf where he began to sort and organise your books, praying that he was putting the series that you have  in the correct order.  

It wasn’t until he got to the bedroom that he was a bit puzzled. He opened the box only to be met with items that he had never seen before. Leon stared at the frilly pink cushions and the bags of vacuumed packed stuffies. He even checked the label again making sure it wasn’t your childhood memory box or something you were meaning to donate but there it was in bold writing “Bedroom”. Leon began to gingerly pull out items. He was unsure on what to do with all of them, guilt started to creep in as he realised maybe the reason you didn’t want him to do it on your own was because of this box. His brain tried to think about why you would even own all of these items to begin with as he had never seen any of them in the numerous times he has stayed at your apartment. He decided to put them all in the box again and wait for you to return home so you can both finish this room together.

Leon worked on the rest of the house with ease, the bathroom was all set up now with everything neatly organised. He smiled at the sight of your toothbrushes finally together in the little pot you had.  Interior design was never his strong suit so he only prayed he did a good job, going based on what he could remember from your own apartment and what places you had put everything in. He only had to wait for your arrival now, which wouldn’t be long. He turned on the tv and sank into the softness of his couch, he smiled as he glanced around the apartment that now had the essence of his world sprinkled throughout. 

It was the evening when you eventually stormed through the front door with enough anger that it slammed against the opposite wall with a loud bang. The sound startled Leon awake, causing him to shoot up off the sofa to deal with whatever threat had just interrupted his sleep. He cursed when he heard you muttering and your keys being chucked on the table he began to check his phone and saw the multiple missed calls he had from you. To which he presumed you were asking him to pick you up but he didn’t hear them from his accidental nap. Leon sat up waiting for you to make your way through the house in search of him. He hoped that his hard work would calm you down, now that you only had to see the pile of empty boxes by the backdoor waiting to go outside. Instead he was met with your hair a mess like you had run your fingers through it all day in frustration, your cheeks were blotchy like you had cried on the way home to him.  “Baby what's wrong?” He asked, leon wasted no time to stand up and move towards you, pulling you in a comforting embrace. “My fucking boss, I was meant to have time off to help you out with the moving as she forgot. So instead of just fixing the problem she decided to shout at me in front of the whole office and then fix the problem. I then got splashed by a puddle because some dickhead thought it would be funny to drive close to the pavement through the puddle.” you whimpered. 

Leon sighed, he hated your workplace and how little they reward you after all that you do for them. He silently cursed himself for falling asleep as he took in your wet appearance. 

“Hey it's alright love I promise. I did most of it today see” he pointed to the pile of boxes and the shelves. He watched as your eyes began to scan around the room, eagerly waiting for your approval on the progress he made. Instead your shoulders sagged as you looked back at him, it was the same body language he supposed he displayed when he returned from the mission to all the packed boxes. “I’m sorry Leon, I was meant to help you with all of this. I tried to get out of work quickly but there was so much stuff she made me do before I went on vacation and you didn’t answer so I had to walk home. ”

“Shh it's fine, I felt bad I couldn't help you pack anyway. However, there is a box I’m not too sure on what to do with. It was filled with things I’ve never seen before” He said as he took your hand and started to lead you towards the bedroom where the last of the boxes remained. 

Upon entering he felt your body tense as you saw the boxes opened, the sight of all the pink you had collected suddenly made you nervous for the conversation you should have had months ago with him. “Leon…the box is labelled correctly. It’s just I only ever showed you the spare bedroom at my apartment. I was worried you would have found it weird if you saw my actual bedroom which contained all of this” 

“Why would I have found it weird? It’s just pink?” Leon shrugged. You struggled to form the words, the stress of the day was already weighing down on you and now thousands of worries of this situation were just adding to the pile. “It’s comforting, it makes me feel safe, a bit like a child would feel safe surrounded by their stuffed toys” you explained. You were attempting to soften the blow of the kink that you secretly had. You waited to see if he could piece together the situation himself or if you would have to explain it further to him. It took him a minute of staring at the box and into space before he finally understood what you meant. “You want to be protected and cared for?” he asked bluntly, attempting to slowly place feelers to see exactly what you wanted so he could give it to you. “There's a certain headspace I like to enter when I feel safe, I just don’t like to thrust it upon people I guess. I need to know I can trust them, I always forgot to bring it up with you”

 Leon nodded but didn’t say anything, he just continued to look at the box.

Eventually he spoke again, turning to you with a gentle smile as he said, “Why don’t you go and have a bath to relax after work?”  

You nodded, but was still hesitant to leave the room without his confirmation on the situation. His lack of questions was beginning to make you concerned. “Yeah okay” You sighed as you eventually caved and began to strip off your work uniform. Leon didn’t miss the way that you dug through the box to pull out a large fluffy hello kitty towel. Once the bathroom door had shut and he could hear the water running he began his plan for the evening. 

You could hear him shuffling around outside the door, walking back and forth to the living area. You tried to let the lavender bath bomb soak up the worries and stress of today, sinking further into the bubbles like you were going to be able to hide in the mountain of them. Eventually, you begrudgingly left the now cold bathwater, wrapping yourself into the fluffy towel that was your favourite. You walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom where it was now decorated in the vines and fairy lights you had in the box, giving the room the calming feel you craved at the end of each day when you were in your own house. The bed had some of your fluffy blankets and pillows creating a mountain you can just tell would be heavenly to sink into. Your favourite teddies were tucked in the bed ready for you, along with the fluffiest pjs you had neatly folded at the end of the bed. The smell of food encouraged you to get changed quickly and try to investigate what it was. 

You were greeted with the sight of Leon cooking some noodles in the kitchen, the menu music of your favourite dvd playing in the background. Somehow Leon had created the safe space you always wanted.There were even more Fairy Lights that he had put up in the open plan kitchen and living area which enveloped the rest of the apartment in a warm glow. He had blankets piled up on the back of the sofa ready for you to snuggle into along with even more cushions that were placed in the corner. “Are you hungry darling?” Leon gently cooed from where he stood in the kitchen. You nodded shyly, clutching at the bottom of your shirt nervously in the doorway. “Good, it's almost done. Why don’t you go and get comfy in the living room? I’ll be there in a moment with the food” he spoke softly, his smile was kind and warm, his body was relaxed and natural. Your eyes were eager to find any discomfort in this situation. He was ticking all the boxes you needed, whenever he knew it or not. Your feet padded against the hardwood floor as you made your way over to the plush couch, resisting the urge to sink into the fluffy blankets that now decorated it. You heard Leon chuckle as he made his way into the living area holding two bowls of noodles. “Darling that's now how you use the blankets” 

You blinked at him, confused as he placed the bowls on the coffee table in front of you and helped you shuffle deeper into the couch. He then draped a blanket around your shoulders, tucking you into the warmth safely. “That’s better now isn’t it sweetheart?” he prompted as he leant to get the bowls again. You smiled at him, nodding as Leon helped you balance it on a cushion before he pressed play on the film, Spirited Away. “Careful now it’s hot. Wouldn’t want my baby getting burned” he said kissing the crown of your head before tucking into the meal himself. You smiled again, your posture loosened as you slowly sunk into the role you desperately craved. 

Leon found the words coming more natural to him as he visibly watched the tension leave your body. He watched as your eyes light up at your favourite parts of the moving, your body inching closer to his own. He gently took the bowl from your hands before scooping you into his lap so your head can rest on his shoulder as you watched the rest of the movie. “Is this okay?” Leon whispered, his hand drawing idle circles on your thigh under the blanket. You nodded at him, drawing your eyes away from the TV to snuggle into his neck. “It's perfect thank you” you spoke softly.. “My poor baby was so stressed at work. You're always such a good girl for putting up with everyone else's crap” he mumbled into your hair. His hands inching higher up your thigh squeezing the flesh softly. 

You gasped as you felt his fingers tease the fluffy edge of your pj shorts. “You look so good in these. Daddy did a good job picking them out” he spoke with a smirk placed on his lips as he used the word so freely, eager to hear it leave your own lips. Leon felt your breath tremble against his neck, he could feel the tension in his shirt as your fingers gripped it ever so slightly. “What do you think baby? Do you think daddy picked out a good pair?” He prompted. You nodded your head weakly, the use of the word so casually helping you sink into the headspace quickly. “Use your words darling” he said as his hands slipped under the fabric of your shorts, you could feel the slight pressure of his fingertips tease your covered pussy. “They are perfect, Thank you daddy” you mumbled into his neck. Leon felt his cock twitch at your words, finally hearing the simple term leave your lips was now affecting himself.  “Good girl” he purred, his fingers began slipping underneath your underwear, he groaned at the wetness that had now collected there. He began to spread it throughout your folds, his fingers gently teasing the sensitive clit in circular motions. 

You pulled Leon into a kiss, your hands gripped the back of his head and his forearm keeping him close to you. He moaned into your mouth, his tongue slipping in for a battle of dominance which you easily let him win. “My poor baby is so tense from work. Don’t worry daddy is going to help you now” Leon spoke, his voice low as he withdrew his fingers from your entrance. The light causing your arousal to sparkle on them as he brought them to his lips, he began to suck them clean, his eyes closing like he was tasting his first ever gourmet desert. “Mm, you taste so good baby, but this isn’t enough for daddy” he smirked. 

Leon started to slowly remove your pjs, leaving you in only your pink underwear that had a cute bow in the front “What a pretty present you are with your little bow darling” he cooed. He kneeled on the floor in front of you and began to pry your thighs apart leaving them open as a finishing line for his trail of kisses he was leaving down your thighs. He finally removed your underwear leaving your pussy bare to him. “Such hard working girls, get glorious rewards” he mumbled into the soft flesh of your upper thigh. “Please” you begged as you felt his breath cool your aching core. “Say my name when you beg darling..only good girls get their rewards” 

He watched the muscles in your pussy contact at his command, your legs began to loosely fall over his shoulders trapping him in place. “Please daddy” you begged again, your fingers were gripping the soft blanket that had fallen from your shoulders and found its place surrounding your waist. Leon wasted no time as he licked a long stripe up your lips, sucking on your clit as two fingers pushed into your core. He started off slowly, curling the digits rhythmically gathering as much of your arousal as possible. His lips sucked at your clit, his tongue circling the sensitive nub with extreme precision that caused your thighs to clench around his head. You could slowly feel the stress of the day melt away into the couch, soon to be forgotten as Leon helped you pass into what you could only describe as a dreamscape. His fingers began to thrust inside you, slow at first allowing you to slowly trust him to take care of you. “The safe word is Apples Baby okay, I'll stop as soon as you say it” he said pulling away from your clit with a long string of salvia connecting the two of you. You nodded against the sofa cushion as you began whimpering at the loss of contact. Leon stopped curling his finger finally bringing your attention to him with a light slap to the thigh instead “Baby this is important…what's the safe word?” He asked sternly. “Apples..it's apples daddy” you spoke attempting to maintain the heavy eye contact he was giving you to try and show that you understood. 

It must have worked because Leon latches onto you again with a smirk, working with intent to bring you to your first orgasm of the night. Leon thrusted and curled his fingers hitting the right spot with insane accuracy each time. His cock throbbed as your legs tightened around his head forcing him to do nothing but suck on your sweet taste. Your thighs muted your whimpers from him but the way the muscles trembled around his head he could tell that you were close. The thought spurred him on as he added another finger, you groaned loudly at the stretch he was now giving you with three fingers.“Come on baby, cum all over daddy’s face and hand” he mumbled against your pussy, his breath cooling the sensitive nub making you squirm. It didn’t take long for your release to come. Leon groaned, shifting his hips to get some friction himself as he helped you ride it out. 

His eyes met yours once you finally released him from the headlock you had on him with your thighs, a smile was wide on his face. “You did so good for me baby, are you finally relaxed?” he spoke. The film was long forgotten by the both of you as you both tiptoed on the edge of a new beginning in your relationship. His eyes were begging for your input of your approval, once gained he would pour everything he could in supporting you with this new role that you had secretly desired. Also now wanting the same thing, the idea of finally being able to not only protect but have some control over something in his life was greatly appealing to him. 

 “These muscles still seem pretty tense don't they, baby?” he said, kissing the inside of your thighs. You nodded weakly, finally looking down at him again. “Can daddy help me?” you whispered. Leon smiled, it was the approval he needed to keep going. He lifted your legs from his shoulders, his figure towering over you as he now stood between your legs. Your eyes raked over his body, your gaze falling to his erection which stood boldly against the fabric of his sweatpants. “Let's go somewhere more comfortable baby” he spoke softly, leon lifted you effortlessly in his arms and carried you to the bedroom. 

He laid you against the mountain of pink pillows and numerous plushies before  His mouth littered hot kisses across your chest only pausing when he felt your fingers delicately trail along the top of his waistband. Leon met your gaze with a smirk on his lips. “That's not how we ask for things is it now?” he chuckled, moving his hips away from your reach. “Please daddy, can I have your cock now?” you asked, your eyes innocently blinked up at him. Leon groaned at your words he felt himself twitch desperately against his cotton prison as he looked at your doe expression patiently waiting for him. He gently pushed you on the bed before beginning to free himself. His cock slapped against his stomach, pre cum already leaking from the tip which he used as lubricant as he gave himself a few pumps. He watched as your legs automatically opened for him to slot himself in between. You felt his tip prod at your entrance waiting for your consent to continue. With a small nod from you Leon sunk himself into your velvet walls. He started off at a slow pace, kissing you softly as you adjusted to his size. Once he felt you clench him, Leon started to move faster. Your moans caused him to thrust harder as he found himself wanting to draw more of them out of your pretty lips. It didn’t take long for the word before you began to chant daddy as you clutch at his forearms, the intense arousal forming again in your stomach. Leon felt his balls tighten at your chants, the word spurring him to drive himself deeper inside you. Your eyes rolled back and your body went limp in his arms as you came for the second time that night. Your body was sensitive as he kept thrusting through your orgasm trying to chase his own. He watched the tension leave your shoulders as you let him continue to use you like the good girl you are. Your willingness to submit to him caused his hips to sputter and coat your walls. You could feel his cum warming you from the inside causing you to smile at the feeling of being full of the essence of your new daddy. The action solidified the new dynamic between the two of you. 

Leon pulled his softening cock out of you gently, you heard him get off the bed and leave the room to get a wet cloth to help clean up the mess in between your legs. You snuggled your head into the pillows behind you. The comfort of the new environment Leon had created for you drawing you closer to sleep. “You did so good for me baby, was this okay? Is this what you need?” Leon asked, sitting next to you on the bed. He moved the pillows away from your face and began stroking your hair awaiting your response. “It’s perfect thank you” you spoke with a soft smile on your face. Leon’s comforting strokes were grounding you as your mind caught up to the situation. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner” you apologised. Leon laughed, shaking his head at you, “It's okay, I understand. But I'm happy to fill this role for you if you need it” 

“Thank you daddy,” you spoke softly, the term was now becoming the new normal for you both. Leon helped you slip into the comfort of the bedding, before leaving the room briefly to turn off the tv and lights in the other room. When he returned Leon laid in the bed scooping you into his embrace. You laid on his chest whilst he stroked your back, lulling you to sleep with his actions and for the first time you actually slept peacefully in the embrace of your new daddy.

[writingsbychlo]

heart under construction (05)

word count; 5373

summary; sam gets to take you out on that date, and he almost messes it up, but you manage to find yrou way back to one another again.

notes; I wanna give sarah a huge thanks because she made this gif!! she made it!! i love it, so give her some love too. @dylinski​ is an angel.

warnings; semi-public sex, unprotected sex, heavy drinking.

Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, Sam pouted as he continued to sit outside of the bar he’d watched you disappear into a good fifteen minutes ago, his brow furrowed. He could totally just storm in there right now, break it up, drag you out, but he really wasn’t sure how you’d react to that.

He had every chance to make a move, he’d spent the day on a date with you, and he hadn't even had the balls to fucking kiss you at the end of it. He rubbed a hand over his face, groaning as he thought back on the moment, his cowardice and the shitty excuse for a few final words he’d given, and he slumped angrily into his seat.

He couldn't see into the bar, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to. By now, you were probably curled up in a cosy little booth in the back as you sipped cocktails and let another man kiss you because he’d been too much of a fucking wimp to do it when he had the chance.

The radio hummed lowly, a song he was familiar with from playing earlier in the day beginning to creep out into the car, and he reached over, punching his finger roughly into the button on the dash to turn it off.

“I love this song!” You were practically beaming, bouncing in your seat as the two of you sped down the highway towards Ikea, and Sam reached over, cranking the volume on the music up as you turned to him, giving him a sweet smile before beginning to belt out the lyrics, carefree and happy as you sat in the car beside him.

He couldn’t help himself, but soon he was joining in, the pair of you singing at the top of your lungs to every song that came on the radio as you drove along, the pure joy buzzing around in the air around you both within the car, and the car journey flew by, Sam throwing the car into park as you both stared up at the dark blue building in excitement.

Snatching the keys from the ignition, Sam was out of the car before you had even unclipped your safety belt, and he was holding the door open for you with a cheesy wink, your laugh making it all worth it as you took his outstretched hand, allowing him to help you from the vehicle. Your arm had linked through his as you made your way to the store, the side of your body pressed up to his, and he turned his head, nudging his nose against your temple with affection.

“So, how about some lunch first, yeah?”

“Yes! I love the Ikea café!” He grinned, placing a kiss to your cheek before ushering you into the busy building, watching as you dashed ahead while following the smell of food.

You had shared a tray, letting him carry the food while you balanced the drinks in your arms, the two of you sprawling out along the comfortable leather seats as you ate. Conversation had flowed easily, from one topic to another, never slowing or becoming dull, and Sam realised he could quite literally listen to you talk about anything and not get bored.

You had forced him into people watching, the two of you giggling at people as you watched them pass by, trying to carry ridiculously large boxes of flatpack furniture, or mother's arguing with children about things they weren’t buying that the kids were absolutely insistent that they did need. You made up stories for the weird purchases you saw people buying, and you had started a competition for who could find the worst item combination someone was buying.

He had won, upon spotting someone buying a truly hideous lampshade and a clashing lamp base that he was sure had never been, and would never be, in style.

Once you had finished eating, you had grabbed one of the paper pads from the wall, the box of little pencils sitting beside it, and he had laughed at you as you grabbed a handful. You had one in your hand, one in his, before you had tucked a pencil behind your ear and one behind his, too, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you told him how much you liked to collect the mini-pencils, and he half considered just stealing the entire box for you.

His chest was practically aching from how much he had laughed, and he was sure he hadn't stopped smiling since the moment he’d picked you up, finally knowing which little house belonged to you as he leaned against his car, watching you bounce out of your house in a cute little sundress and dash down the driveway to hug him tightly. He could still feel your arms wrapped around him, the smell of your freshly applied perfume when he’d buried his face in your neck, and the fit of you in his arms when he’d hugged you back with just as much enthusiasm, swaying you from side to side.

You had trekked through the entire store, trying and testing everything from kitchen furniture to sofas. You had a list, front and back, covered in all the product codes of things that would look perfect in the house, and match the beautiful theme that had been crafted. You had lay next to Sam for a while on what you had called your ‘dream bed’, a king-size bed with drawers underneath, reading lamps fastened into the headboard and a plush mattress that he felt he might actually just sink into.

Lying on the display bed that was out, you lay next to him, staring up at the roof as your hair fanned out around you on the bed and he just watched you, admiring how much he enjoyed simply laying with you. He could picture lazy mornings with you just like this, or late nights after work when the both of you were tired. Laying in bed and cuddled up, before you spent the night curled up in his arms to sleep.

He liked this bed, a lot. He did not hesitate to write down the coding for the product so he could find it when he came back one day to pick up furniture.

Reaching out, he took your hand in his, weaving your fingers together, and you paused your aimless rambling, your head falling to the side to look at him, close enough that your breath washed over his lips as he smiled softly, and you only returned the look, squeezing his hand tightly in yours as he stared at you.

When you had been ushered on by another family wanting to look at this bed, your hand had remained locked in his, holding you close to him as you completed your journey. He had been sure to sneakily tuck three of the four small pencils you had stolen into your purse before you’d reached the door, so the member of staff asking for them back couldn’t take them. With a smile, he hadn't over the final pencil, your face burying in his shoulder to quiet your giggles as the two of you walked away across the car park, and his arm dropped to your waist to hold you close.

You had folded the little list neatly, tucking it into the front pocket of his jeans for him as you rambled on about how much you loved the coffee table he had chosen, and how perfect you thought it would look with a blue striped rug underneath it, in the centre of the living room. He wasn’t listening, instead, he grabbed you by both of your hips, pushing you up against the edge of his car as you reached it. His body was almost flush against yours as he looked down at you, your words dying in your throat as you looked up at him.

He was nervous, his heart beating against his chest, but you soon wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers toying with the slightly too-long hairs a the base of his neck as he dipped his head down, his eyes closing as he heard you let out a little gasp at his close proximity. His nose was bumping against yours, his lips so close to you that they brushed when he tilted his head, his tongue catching against your lips when he licked his own, and he felt frozen in this moment of intimacy, your heart pounding just as fast as his, he could feel it, his hands sliding from our hips to your lower back.

Your phone was buzzing absentmindedly in your purse, and he growled slightly under his breath, pulling back and clearing his throat as his nerves got the better of him, tension flooding his body as he stiffened and stepped back. “This was.. really fun. Super fun. We should hang out more often.”

Your jaw dropped at him, and he hated himself instantly.

‘We should hang out more often.’

What the fuck was that about?

You only nodded, your gaze dropping from his with dismay as you reached for the handle to the car, opening the door for yourself and climbing inside, and he watched as you clipped yourself in silently, pulling your phone from your bag to check your notifications. He stared out across the other cars, running a hand over his face and cursing at himself before rounding the car, getting into the driver’s seat and glancing at you as you replied to whatever messages you had received, your fingers flying over the keyboard and he scrambled to try and find a way to fix this, because once again he had ruined the atmosphere around you both.

“You, er, you wanna’ come back to the house? Jake is there.”

You looked up at him, the polite smile that made his gut twist uncomfortably was aimed at him as you shook your head, tucking your hair behind your ear and waving your phone at him a little. “Can’t. One of the dads from the princess prom was hoping I would get drinks, he has some questions about his kid, he has autism and he wanted to know a little more about the teaching methods, so I said yes.”

Sam felt like his skin was crawling, and he twisted the keys to start up the car, his eyes facing forward as he nodded stiffly, jaw clenched. “Right. Of course. I’ll drop you off, I suppose. Where is it?”

You gave him the address, and he tried not to snap the steering wheel. He knew that pub, he’d met some of his tinder hookups there for drinks. It was nice, it had a homey feel, and low lights and private booths. It was a date pub, you didn’t go there unless you were hoping to get some kind of action, and from your innocent smile he assumed you didn’t know that, but he was willing to bet this guy did.

The drive there was tense, and he missed the easy-going bliss that had been the drive you had shared last time. Now, the radio played quietly as he drove in silence, your body facing away from him as you looked out of the window.

If he had just had the guys to kiss you when you were right there, in the moment with him and only him, you wouldn't be going out with another guy right now, and he fucking hated it.

You had got out of the car, checking yourself in his mirrors before smoothing out your dress, and he gave you a tight smile, all while feeling like someone had pushed a hand straight into his chest and torn his heart right out of it.

“You look beautiful. You always do.”

Then, he had watched you leave, flouncing up and into the bar without looking back, mumbling a cheery ‘thanks for a great day, see you later, Sam!’ and you were gone. This hadn't been how he wanted the day to end, and the second you were gone, he threw the car into park, staring at where you had gone, hoping you might come back out, saying you changed your mind, that you wanted to be with him instead and that whoever was waiting inside of you could get lost. But you didn’t, and Sam sniffed, wiping angrily at his eyes and punching at his steering wheel in his rage as he sat in his seat, defeated.

This was exactly why Sam Taylor didn’t do relationships.

As the clock ticked over into twenty minutes, he decided to let his rage cover his drowning grief over the situation as he forced the car back into action, pulling away from the curbside and onto the road, scowling at himself and his life as he headed for his destination. It was another fifteen minutes before he was slamming his car door shut, not even bothering to lock it from the half-assed job he’d done of parking on the driveway before he was storming into the house with the heavy box tucked under his arm, glass bottles jingling with his hurried steps.

Slamming the front door shut behind himself, he heard Jake curse, choosing to ignore it as he stormed up the stairs, straight past his brother who had excitedly come to ask him how it went, and made his way to the top floor. Dropping the box on the balcony floor, he used his keys to tear it open, shoving them deep into his pocket before taking one of the beers from inside, uncapping it quickly and dropping to the floor with a huff. Raising the bottle to his lips, he chugged a good half of the contents of the bottle before he even bothered to kick off his shoes, or take off his jacket.

Once he was finished with the first bottle, he placed it neatly before him, dragging a hand over his face and finally turning to face his brother, who was texting avidly with a concerned look on his face. “You want to tell me what happened?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Jake pressed, standing up from where he was leaning in the doorway and Sam bit down on his bottom lip, before reaching into his crate of beers and pulling out two more bottles, offering one to his brother.

“No.”

Jake accepted it, the two of them sitting in silence for a while, and Sam adjusted himself to stare out at the horizon. Pastel shades decorate the horizon, the sun burning brightly as the last of the shimmering air floating began to settle down, and neither man spoke until long after the sun had sunk below the horizon. Jake was still nursing the same bottle of beer, concernedly watching his brother, who was now on his fifth, and gripping the almost empty bottle in a grip so tight his knuckles were white.

When a cool breeze indicative of the night closing in swept over them both, Sam sighed loudly, swilling the rest of the beer in the bottle around before downing it, turning to face him with tears lining his eyes. “She’s on a date. With another guy. Because I’m a fucking coward.”

“That’s not fair, you’re not a coward!”

Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes and tilting his head back to look at the final fading shades of colour on the horizon as deep blue and black took over, sparkling stars in the clear sky shining out brightly. “I didn’t kiss her. She was right there, it was so clearly a date, and she was letting me kiss her, and I didn’t. I said ‘we should hang out more often’.”

“You’re a fucking moron.”

“I know that, Jake.” He growled his words out, eyes narrowing in a glare as he looked at his brother and Jake shrugged, finishing his beer and adding it to the collection before them. The distant sound of a car door slamming caught both of their attention, the much louder sound of the front door slamming made both of them sit upright, until the hushed giggling of a very familiar void caught their attention.

Turning to look back at the stairs, they glanced through the open glass door to see you hauling yourself up the stairs, a dopey and elated smile on your face as you tripped and stumbled, finally reaching the top and finding the confused faces of both the males looking at you.

“I had a thought!” You announced loudly, making your way toward the open balcony and standing in the doorway, staring at the horizon. “If you swapped the first letters of your names, you would be ‘Sake’ and ‘Jam’. You could use both names in a sentence. Like, for fuck’s sake, where’s the jam?”

You cracked up giggling at yourself, your body swaying slightly and Sam simply stared at you, Jake hopping to his feet as his hands landed on your shoulders. “How much did you drink?”

“A fair amount.” You beamed, tapping at Jake’s nose with the tip of your finger, before your eyes dropped down, widening and filling with joy as though you’d only just remembered that Sam was there. “Sam! Hi! I missed the sunset, but I want to watch the stars. Can we watch the stars?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” His words were slurred and he watched as you dropped yourself down onto the floor beside him, shuffling yourself along the wall to get comfortable and he used his foot to nudge the half-empty box towards you. “Beer?”

“Love one, thanks.”

“Right, well, I’m leaving. Good luck with your hangovers!” Jake sighed, shaking his head fondly at the both of you as he grabbed his jacket, making his way down the stairs and leaving the both of you in silence. Sam waited until he heard the engine of Jake’s truck spark up, pulling out of the driveway and setting off before he finally swallowed down his pride and turned to you.

“You seem happy. Did your date go well?” He could hear the venom in his own voice as he spat out his own words, but he was too drunk to care, and it would seem that you were decidedly drunk too, because you turned to him, practically beaming as you shook your head.

“It was absolutely atrocious.” You shook your head, sipping at the bitter beverage you held before leaning forward, stacking all the empty bottles up into a pyramid, rather content with your creation before you glanced at him over your shoulder. “I don’t think you want to hear about that though, do you?”

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut before plastering a smile on his face and looking at you. “I’m trying to be a supportive friend. You can talk to me, tell me all about your date.”

“Okay, well, he sat way too close to me and was wearing far too much cologne, and he stared at my tits, like, the entire night, and then he tried to kiss me when I was getting in a taxi.”

Sam winced, taking large gulps of his drink. “You’re right, I didn’t want to hear that.”

“Why are you drinking?” You questioned carefully, and he sighed, taking another sip before biting down on his bottom lip.

“Because I didn’t kiss you when I had the chance.” He picked at the label on the bottle, coming away with the slight condensation on the cold glass. “Why did you drink?”

“Because you didn’t kiss me when you had the chance.” Your reply was not what Sam had expected, and he looked at you carefully, watching as you chewed on your lower lip. Reaching over, he took your bottle from your hands, placing it on the cold stone with his own, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, using his thumb to pull your lip from its prison as he ran the pad delicately over it.

“Did you kiss him?”

“No.”

“Good.” With that, he gave up on his hesitations and fears, leaning forward to press his lips to yours in a delicate kiss, a surprised gasp leaving you as his nose bumped against yours. He could sense your surprise, your body stiffening under his hold, before you relaxed, fingers lacing into his hair and holding him tightly to you as you returned the affections and he thought his heart might actually burst from his chest this time. “I’ve been wanting to do that pretty much since I met you.”

His words were mumbled against your lips, and you giggled, nodding in agreement as your foreheads pressed together. “Please do that again.”

“With pleasure.” This time, he was more confident, his lips slanting over yours with force, his hands sliding down from your face to your hips, your fingers tightening in his hair. He was soon nibbling at your lower lip, your lips parting for him as his tongue slipped into your mouth, playing with your own.

It was messy, and sloppy, and a combination of whimpers and moans as the two of you pawed at one another. Your fingers slid down, nails dragging through his scruffy beard and eliciting a growl from him before landing on his chest, curling the material of his shirt up into fists and your hands scrunched up.

The kiss was dominating, and rough, the two of you panting into one another's mouths as your skin burned deliciously from his assault on your mouth and the stubble on his cheeks. The hands on your hips tightened as you shifted, and without pulling away from your mouth, he navigated you, lifting you carefully from your position and all but dragging you into his lap, large palms on your thighs guiding you until you had a leg on either side of his.

Your foot caught on one of the bottles, the glass clinking and fizzing sounding in the air as liquid spilt from the bottle, running in streams towards the edge of the platform and dripping away to the ground so far below. The two of you snapped apart, chests heaving as you giggled at the spilt bottle. “I’m sorry I knocked over your beer.”

“If I ever care about spilt beer more than having you in my lap, I want you to shoot me.” He muttered, trailing kisses along your neck, and your chest shook with silent laughs, soon replaced with moans as he began to leave wet trails along your skin, sucking and nipping at your flesh as he left little red marks dotted along your flesh.

“You say that like I’ll be in your lap often.”

“I sure hope you will. My lap is exactly where you belong. Or by my side. Or under me. As long as you’re with me, I really don’t care.” He groaned as your hand slipped back into his hair, tugging harshly until he left your collarbones, your lips landing back on his and he hummed happily, parting his lips the second he felt you trying to lick your way into his mouth.

His fingers dug into your thighs, so tightly they’d leave marks and his hips bucked up involuntarily into yours, moans falling from both of you at the action and you returned the gesture by rolling his hips down into his. A strangled sound left him, and he could feel your grin against his lips as he sloppily worked his mouth with yours.

You did it again, harder, and he let out a low growl, his hands sliding to your hips to try and still you, and you only pressed down harder into him in return. His cock twitched, hardening rapidly as the sounds you made for him reached his ears, the feeling of you in his lap driving him wild. “Sweetheart, if you don’t stop then I’m going to lose all self-control, and I don’t think you want that.”

His voice was low, scratchy and raw as he tried to suck in desperate breaths between stealing kisses as your nails raked down his chest and over his stomach. “You know what I want? I want to know what it’s like to be fucked on a balcony.”

“Oh, shit..” Sam whimpered, his eyes sliding shut as he tipped his head up to catch your lips in a passionate kiss, swollen lips stinging pleasurably, your fingers playing with his belt buckle as you undid it, his hips lifting up and grinding into your covered core under your skirt as he helped you tug the belt free to be discarded. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured, or forced, or like we’re moving too fast an-”

“Sam, stop being scared. Why are you so worried about being so intimate with me?” Your eyes searched his, and he swallowed thickly.

“Because you’re not like the girls I’m normally with, and I don’t want you to feel like you are.”

“Hell of a line there, Taylor.” You smirked, pecking his lips before trailing kisses along his jaw, your fingers swiftly undoing the button on his jeans as you knelt over him, kissing at his neck and yanking the zipper down far enough to slip your hand into his jeans.

“Not a line, just the truth. You’re special to me.” He panted, his hips rolling up as he thrust into your hand, your fingers tracing his hard cock through his underwear as you squeezed at him, palming and rubbing his member until he couldn’t take it anymore. Taking his hand in your own, you lifted the edge of your dress, taking his fingertips and dragging them along your drenched panties, a deep sound rumbling in his chest as he took control, swirling his fingers around your swollen clit through the material. “Shit, sweetheart, you’re drenched.”

“That’s what you do to me.” You let out a cry as he pushed down on your clit roughly, a sly smirk covering his features, and he used his thumb to drag the sodden material to the side, swiping two fingers through your slick folds to part them, nudging against your clit as you moaned his name loudly for him. Easing a single finger into him, your hand shook from where you were teasing him through his boxers, your nails dragging against him through the material the second he slipped the second digit into you, joint noises of pleasure leaving you both.

He pumped his fingers faster, scissoring them and revelling in the wet sounds he could make with your juices as he fucked his fingers into you quickly. Your hips were rolling down into his hand, your mouth pressed to his in a series of frantic kisses as you whispered each other's names into your connected mouths, your hand tightening around him as he brushed against your g-spot. “Please, sweetheart, this is fucking torture.”

“You’re needy.” You teased, and he scoffed, but the sound came out more like a whine as you finally pulled back your hand.

“I’m only needy for you. Now please, just let me fuck you, honey.”

“Okay.” You looped your fingers into his belt loops, tugging the material of his jeans down until they were low enough to release his cock, a hiss leaving him as the cold air swept over him. Throbbing and red, precum oozed from the slit on his head and you let out a whimper at the sight, a strained chuckle leaving him. Inching forward, you leaned down, your fingers wrapping around him gently to line him up with your dripping core before you were sinking yourself down onto him.

Cries of joy left both of you, your foreheads pressed together and Sam could feel your breath panting over his cheek as your jaw hung slack, until your hips were seated snugly together. “You’re so tight, holy fuck.” He felt like the words were wheezed out of him, and he knew you could feel every throw and pulse of his cock between your walls because he could feel every flutter and squeeze you gave him. “M’ so not gonna’ last long.”

“Me either.” You whispered, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before steadying your hands on his shoulder, his fingers flexing on his hips and he choked back a moan as you adjusted yourself rising up on your hips before slamming back down onto him, your eyes rolling back as his lips parted, a sigh leaving him as he thrust up a little to meet you the second time.

Adjusting yourself, you reached one hand out to grip onto the cold metal of the railing beside you, and your other was digging marks into his shoulder, even through the layers of material covering him. Tugging at the hem of your dress, he pushed it up until he had it bunched around your waist, watching the place where your panties were pushed to the side, his cock sliding into and out of your slick hole, covered in your juices and glistening in the night light.

He licked at the pad of his thumb, dropping it to rub rapid circles onto your clit as you squeaked, hips bucking against his with more force and speed as your body became weak, your walls clenching around him so tightly he could barely thrust up into you. You were shaking above him, crying out his name.

“K-Keep doing that.” You licked over your lips, and he grinned, picking up the speed as you locked your hips down into him, both of you spiralling towards your edges as you moved together in lazy but frantic movements, your bodies slamming together as each thrusted connection rocked you both, your nerves on fire. He could feel it in the pit of his belly, just watching you become unravelled above him, his name spilling from your lips in near screams as you pleased yourself on his cock, and he knew he was close.

“Gonna’ cum for me, honey? C’mon, I can feel how close you are. Let me fill you up, just cum for me, sweetheart.”

You nodded, a scream of his name tearing from your lips as bliss took over your body, your hands shakily finding his jaw. You moaned into his mouth, your tongues tangling together as you came, and he gripped onto you just as tightly, his cock twitching before he was breaking, falling over the edge with you and spattering your walls with streams of hot cum, a cry of your name carrying him over the edge.

You continued to move slowly through your highs, before you finally slumped against his chest, your skin shining with a thin layer of sweat, like his, despite the cool night breeze that was brushing over your both as you pressed together. Your arms were looped around his neck, his around your waist as he nuzzled into your neck, holding you close. “That was fucking incredible.” He mumbled, and you laughed tiredly, pulling back to kiss him softly, your fingers carding through his hair soothingly.

“Yeah, it really was.”

Silence overtook the two of you for a few minutes, nothing but the panting you made as you tried to slow your racing hearts and calm your breathing sounded out, until he groaned lowly, your fingers catching on a piece of hair and tugging a little. His cock, still buried within you, twitched in urgency as his half-hard dick seemed to be springing into action once again, and Sam could feel heat crawling up his cheeks as you giggled at him.

“Already?”

“Can’t help it, I’ve wanted this for a long time.” He mumbled, pouting his lips and growling as you purposefully swivelled your hips, clenching around him as you leaned in to kiss him, your teasing laugh at your actions making it more of a messy exchange of lips and tongues than a passionate kiss.

“How about we see what it’s like when you do me up against the wall inside, then?” You winked down at him, wiggling your eyebrows as his hands slid around under your ass, scooping you up in his arms as he stumbled to his feet, cock still nestled deep within you as you clung to him and laughed.

“Fuck, yes.”

[anciientboosh]

90!!!!

90. “I’m not buying Ikea furniture again.” (Another one! This was actually so much fun to write that I almost ended up running away with it completely, and I may have to expand on it in the future. It’s complete tooth rotting sweetness because that’s the kind of mood I’m in today, hope that’s okay! Thank you so much @edenismissingasnake)

If nothing else, ikea was invented so that people like Vince could pull off ridiculously romantic gestures and look like proper accomplished adults in the process. Right? 

This was the kind of thing that people in films do, he thinks. All selfless and with a deep meaning, showing off how well they knew their significant other. It almost always ended with tearful declarations and a pretty good snog. Worth it, in his opinion. 

Vince was trying to put a bookshelf in their bedroom. 

It may not sound like much, but since beginning to share a bed rather than existing on opposite ends of the room, they’ve had a bit of extra space. Space that had initially been designated as a place for a wardrobe extension. Howard had begrudgingly intended let him do just that, the perfect gentlemen that he was. 

Except when they’d started moving furniture around to put this plan into action Vince had noticed that while much more organised, Howard also owned a lot of stuff. Under his bed, crammed in boxes, were stacks of books and records. Old photos and small trinkets that Vince recognised from years gone by all packed away in storage. 

Howard was a quietly sentimental type, and Vince was in love enough to think that if his partner deemed it important enough to save then it deserved to be somewhere other than under a bed gathering dust.  

On paper the concept was perfect. Howard would be gone all day helping Lester move into a smaller flat (he takes up a lot less room now that he is just a head) and Naboo was unlikely to bother him thanks to the alien strength illicit substances he’d come home with two days ago. 

In practice, not so perfect. 

Vince has never put anything together in his entire life. He understands the theory of it - part A in slot B. Flatpack furniture existed to help the common man conquer the world of DIY, why not Vince?  

But not even the simply worded instructions - that come with pictures - could save him. 

There’s a lot of pieces for a bookshelf. It’s like a magic trick unpacking them all, they just keep coming. Spreading them about himself on the bedroom floor leaves him in the centre of a crude looking summoning circle and he can’t fathom how he’s supposed to make this into a piece of furniture. 

That’s how Howard finds him. 

Somehow he has successfully managed to convince two pieces to partner up and stay there. But it doesn’t feel right. They’re propped in front of him, which is a success on the freestanding front, yet looking strange. Vince is certain they’re laughing at him. 

It’s enough for him to feel justified batting it over with the back of his hand and taking great satisfaction in how it thumps to the floor. 

He produces a spectacular pout and demands of the shape, “Why aren’t you helping?”

“Probably because it’s wood.” Startled from his tantrum, he whips around to find Howard hovering in the doorway. His tiny eyes narrowed in confusion. 

“Howard!” In his panic he sweeps what he can of the evidence behind him. All this serves to do, of course, is mix up the bits he’s spent ages sorting and simultaneously draws Howard’s attention directly to it. “You’re home.” 

“Vince,” Howard slowly begins to smirk. “I am. What you doing?” 

“Uh..” Despite the fact it’s going to be impossible to pull off in any convincing way, Vince lies. “It’s a thing- for Naboo. Well weird.” 

“Oh I see,” Howard is unconvinced, that much is clear. The amusement on his features doesn’t change as he crouches beside Vince and reaches for the forgotten instruction manual. “So you’re not trying to put furniture together, then?” 

“Nope.” Vince feels his traitorous cheeks heating. 

Howard is giddy like a schoolboy let in on a private joke, a wolfish grin splits his features. “And you definitely don’t want any help?” 

At this point, he thinks he’ll keep lying just to entertain his partner. It’s rare he gets to play the role of the cheeky one. He wants to savour the look of it; the way his whole body seems to radiate mischief from the flash of his eyes to the tension in his muscles from concealing his laughter. 

It’s so breathtaking he can’t bring himself to form words anymore. He can only shake his head dumbly. 

“Alright then,” Instructions in hand, Howard pushes himself to his feet. The confidence in his frame as he moves for the open doorway makes Vince dizzy. “I’ll take this then, shall I? If you’re not building anything. I quite like instruction manuals, I’ll read this with a cup of tea. Really helps to broaden the mind-” 

“Alright, you smug prat, you’ve made your point.” He could have let that little speech go on. Wanted to, quite a bit, if just to indulge in that egotistical part of Howard that never fails to make him feel tingly. But he would quite like to finish what he’s started. “It was supposed to be a surprise.” 

Howard, regrettably, drops the act. Reinserts himself on the floor by Vince’s side. “What was?” 

Rather than say it explicitly, Vince waves his arm about to indicate the mess of screws and wooden shapes. “You’ve got some important stuff just hangin’ about under your bed,” As he explains, Howard’s jaw slackens in surprise, he flips to the front of the manual to see the diagram of the finished product displayed proudly and appears to put two and two together. “Seems a shame, is all. Thought we should have somewhere proper to put it.” 

“Vince…” Howard puffs out a breath of disbelieving laughter. “That’s- That’s incredibly sweet.” 

Vince looks down at his own hands twisting nervously in his lap. “Yeah, well. Didn’t really work did it?” 

“On the contrary, sir.” Howard says, the air of superiority returns as he lays out comfort like it’s fact. “Technically, the surprise part was a success. I definitely did not expect to find you doing this when I got home.”

“What were you expecting then?” Howard’s only response is to waggle his eyebrows in a fashion he certainly was not capable of a few short months ago, all playful seduction. It forces a startled cackle from his throat. “You are such a pervert.” 

 “The point is,” Vince finds a comforting hand placed on his knee. “You did well, Howard Moon is not an easily surprised man.” 

“It’s true,” Vince agrees teasingly. “You’re way too paranoid.”  

“And the thought was… Perfect.” Howard’s gaze softens. The palm on his knee finds its way carefully over his shoulders. Vince sinks into the half embrace he is pulled into. “You’re perfect.” 

There’s a kiss dropped to his forehead and whether he managed to do it on his own or not, it was all worth it. “Shall we finish putting this together, then?” He asks gently, unwilling to disturb the moment. 

“Sure thing, little man.” 

“One this is for certain,” He sighs, watching Howard begin to gleefully sort through the pieces. “I’m not buying ikea furniture again.” 

[douxreviews]

American Gods - ‘Moon Shadow’ Review

"Fear is order. Fear is control. Fear is safety."

Season two of American Gods wraps up. It was... a little confusing. The episode, not the season. Well, actually also the season.

Much like 'Donar the Great' a few episodes back, 'Moon Shadow' had a lot in it that felt very Fuller-esque. So again, I ask myself how much of the planning for this was already underway before his exit from the show. Quite possibly none, and it's just the result of a DP or one of the designers having a similar artistic taste, but it seems to carry across all the elements of design, from sound to shot composition to the visuals.

Take, for example, a moment that I've seen now in a couple of places questioned as, 'What the hell was that about?' I refer of course to the gorgeously framed close up shot of the snails on the side of the burial vault. Fun side-fact, I had to look up what exactly those above ground stone things that Shadow was lying on were called and was informed that they were very common for Egyptian Pharaohs. Nice detail work there, set designer or whoever made the decision to have them in Jaquel and Ibis' cemetery.

Now, the contrasting image of Shadow sleeping on top of the Vault, then waking to find Laura sleeping on the adjacent one is a very nice, if not overly subtle, 'in life we are in death' visual. Particularly given the characters involved. But then they up their game and open the morning shots with that close up of the snails clinging to the side of the stone monument. This is a great shot for a few reasons, but it's there for a very Fuller reason. It's a stark visual of gross, complicated, uncomfortable life clinging on in the face of cold, unalterable death. It's the same message as Shadow lying on the thing put in a much more confrontational way.

But I appear to be waffling in the little details instead of looking at the big picture, so let's look at that big picture.

There are a few ways to wrap up a season finale, but two of the most popular are either by building to a spectacular reveal of something that changes our entire understanding of what we've seen before, or arriving at a climactic plot development. Both of these can either be something completely out of left field or the final realization of something that's been slow burning for a long time and is finally paying off.

Wednesday's reveal as Odin in season one's finale would be one of those slow burn examples of the former. Easter's decision to join Wednesday and unleash her power starting the war was the slow burn example of the latter.

This finale kind of attempts both, and while there's a lot I like in this one, neither of those threads feel like a complete success. Perhaps looking at the two of them individually will help me parse out how I feel about this episode, because, honestly, seven or so paragraphs in and I'm still not 100% certain that I know.

So, clearly the big reveal here is that Shadow is Wednesday's son and has some sort of powers. This is, to be fair, a huge reveal. But the problem is that they've sort of half revealed it at least three or four times this year, and so the net result is not unlike when your sassiest friends comes out of the closet to you and your first reaction is 'Oh, did we not already know that? I thought we were already clear on that.'

Side note: that's not a helpful thing to say to the friend in question, should the occasion arise.

Since almost the beginning of the series fandom has been more or less convinced that Shadow is Odin's son Baldr. Or Baldur, or Balder. Old Norse didn't have a strong written component outside of a limited set of runes, and the written forms we understand of it today were almost entirely imposed on it later. Thank you for indulging me with sharing that. Orthography is one of my favorite things. Orthography and assembling flatpack furniture.

Ahem. Fandom has long believed that Shadow is going to turn out to be Baldr. That's a nice, big reveal to end the season on, but by the time we get to Wednesday openly confirming it at the end of this episode we've already heard him talking to young Shadow in flashback while Shadow's mom is dying and been nearly beaten over the head with the implication of Shadow's paternity during the discussion of his presumably half-brother Donar.

On the other hand, we have the plot development of Mr. World officially commencing what we might call the counterattack in the war by using the newly resurrected New Technical Boy to facilitate New Media in calling the entire world down on Shadow, Wednesday, and for some reason, Salim. It was clever of them to publicly use not just the bank robbery in Chicago, but also the massacre of the cops back in 'Lemon Scented You' and the alleged 'chemical attack' in Kentucky which was of course really Easter's taking back the spring. That all gave it a nice sense of all the multiple plot threads coming together organically, and was tied together well by New Media finally speaking to Shadow in the same way old Media did. That's the first time she's really felt like a continuation of the same character for me, and I'm down with New Media now.

That's all great. But it's tied in, in fact it's the entire impetus for, Shadow's big character transformation in which he learns to use what powers he has. Specifically, he seems to alter reality by reaching into his own memories to clear the police and SWAT units from the funeral home's vicinity. From what we hear over the news, he didn't change things so much that the cops aren't still looking for them specifically, but did make them 'un-know' where specifically they were hiding.

The problem is that I think more than a couple people will have read that last sentence and thought to themselves, 'Huh. so that's what was happening,' and therein lies the episode's real problem. I think the blame really can be laid to Yggdrasil in this case. Having Shadow dragged into the tree, on top of all the flashbacks and intercuts between dream and reality so that he can metaphorically and literally hatchet his way into the god-space, is just an overly complicated and muddy way to visualize that. And that muddiness really hurt the reveal that they were trying to make the big exclamation mark at the end of the season. Instead of coming away thinking, 'Wow, I can't believe what just happened!' the viewer leaves thinking, 'What the hell just happened?' and that's not a great note on which to end a season.

No Yggdrasil!  Bad Tree!  Put the nice man down!

Quotes:

New Technical Boy: "Hello, old friend."

Laura: "I am not my mistakes, Shadow."

Burial Vault Inscription: "She hath done what she could." That is just an incredibly depressing final memorial.

Mr. Xie: "Science is the closest we come to wrestling god." New Technical Boy: "Why would you want to…?"

Laura: "Planning on kissing me again? Cause I’ve had kind of a day." Bilquis: "My kisses have been known to improve a day."

Laura: "You don’t like him either." Bilquis: "Is that what your intuition tells you?" Laura: "No, I just know an I’d-like-to-punch-that guy-in-the-mouth-look when I see one."

Salim: "Sorry, I’ve never purchased liquor before. It’s for a friend. He’s a leprechaun. He died." Cashier: "OK."

Bilquis: "I’m a great believer in frankly assessing one’s situation."

Salim: "I don’t know what we are going to be, but I want you to know that I don’t regret any of it. You have taught me how to love."

Jinn: "You know me. Eyes of fire, shit for brains."

Bits and Pieces:

-- I suspect that Nancy and Ibis' conversation over the chess game is going to reward re-watching after all is said and done and the whole story is told.

-- I still don't entirely understand whose side Bilquis is on or what her goals are. She's certainly all right with Laura killing Wednesday and actually seems to consider the offer to join her. No Ruby Goodchild this week.

-- The first ten minutes with Mr. World and the 1938 War of the Worlds broadcast is hands down my favorite thing this show has ever done. A beautiful exploration of the interrelationship between fear, belief, and objective reality. Crispin Glover was born specifically to deliver that monologue.

-- I've come to realize that the most useful way to watch this series is to assume that whatever happens was the outcome wanted by someone, and then work backwards as to who would want that outcome and why. That also works for Agatha Christie books, by the way.

-- I liked the old Technical Boy better. He had much more personality. And while I get that they were going for fiber optics with the new costume, it ends up coming across as Green Lantern. Was that a Michael Green nod?

-- The echo of the opening War of the Worlds monologue sprinkled throughout New Media's on-air rant was very effective at bringing everything together. Nicely scripted.

-- I love the wall-size bas reliefs of Bruce Langley's head on the walls of Xietech. I need them in my home.

-- The NRA logo on the opening film card leading into a discussion of how creating fear allows you to control people was an inspired touch.

-- Here's hoping that Laura's running away with Mad Sweeney's body means that we haven't seen the last of him. Even though they're both dead, I'm still 'shipping them super hard.

-- The Jinn chose to protect Salim by taking him away, even though it means facing consequences for disobeying Wednesday. That's very touching. I assume we'll learn in season three why the Jinn is bound to Wednesday.  I very much hope it doesn't involve rubbing a lamp.

-- It's very in character that Wednesday's entire role this week was 'Go out for dinner and watch the pieces fall into place.'

-- It's strange that they went out of their way to remind us in the pre-credit sequence that Sweeney had sent the spear into the Hoard, and never got around to addressing that this week. Setup for next year I suppose.

A mostly enjoyable season finale with some very high highs and some very low lows, which sums up season two in a nutshell. Still, any series that gives me this episode and 'Donar the Great' in a single season deserves to go on for many, many years.

Two and a half out of three graveyard snails.

P.S. please bring Chris Obi back next season.

Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water.

[homespun-stories]

No Place Like Home

By the time I turned 35, I had put my key in the front doors of some 20 different places I had called home, in eight cities across four countries. One year, I moved home four times in six months. When I talk to my friends, I realise that these numbers are not that unusual. Moving home, through choice or circumstance, is how we move through life. But how many of those doors opened into places that felt like home? Half, maybe? Less, if I'm honest.

When we’re asked about home, we usually talk about where we live. The simple matter of our residence is doled out according to the functional parts of our  dwelling—size, location, whether we need to redo the bathroom, the noise level of our neighbours, etc etc. But where our heart resides is something else entirely; it’s where we experience a handful of deeply grounding emotions, like belonging and security. 

Home, then, is only partly about the bricks and mortar that house us and more often about the place where we are most able to feel like ourselves. I have come to learn, often the hard way, that where we live and where we feel at home can be two or more different places.

I started writing a collection of stories about life at home during the Spring of 2020 when the world tipped upside down in the first throes of the Covid-19 pandemic. As shelter-in-place restrictions were implemented, overwhelming numbers of us were faced with the practical limits of being confined to a single space that needed to do and be everything for everyone. My life had already been upended thanks to the early arrival of my first baby just weeks before, so my own home was reeling from the one-two punch of a screaming newborn inside and a deadly airborne virus outside. After clawing my way out of the front door with a wailing baby for the same walk around the same park every day, I'd wearily traipse back to my flat muttering a sing-song reprieve from a lullaby—home, home / time to go home—as much an acknowledgement to myself as comfort to my daughter. Writing these stories was a way of rooting myself in the consistent and unshakeable truths about home, even whilst we lived through raging uncertainty. They reminded me that my life at home has weathered many storms, but the door always opened to sunny skies once again. It was how I got a grip on my new feelings about the space around me, and understood why so many of my friends were reeling from what was playing out within their own four walls.

As the months under lockdown went by, I wrote my way through a number of inflexion points in my life—all through the lens of the various places I was living in at the time. When I think back to the homes I've had over the past three or so decades, I see refracted images of the person I am today. Each act of homemaking was one part of my becoming—every version of myself was unpacked and lived in a little better than before. In the Summer of 2015, I pulled the roots up of my life in London and replanted them in Copenhagen, with my husband. It was the first time I had moved away from the UK without intending to move back again. I had no connection to this part of the world—no friends, no family, no job waiting there for me. And yet, it felt like a homecoming, as if I was finally able to get all the pieces of myself out of various moving boxes. In truth, it triggered a long-overdue reckoning of why I've moved so often and the hard but necessary unpacking of the last moving box that exists in one's heart. The box that contains the things you need deep within you but cannot easily find a home for.

There’s a certain inevitability about moving to a part of the world where hygge was invented, that even the most undomesticated beasts will turn into house proud kittens. But my obsession with the feeling of home has been fed and watered thanks to my work at IKEA. This iconic and meme-worthy brand is undoubtedly well known for its flatpack furniture, meatballs and all-terrain blue bags, but it’s also home to one of the largest and most comprehensive pieces of research into how people live all over the world. I have steered the IKEA Life at Home Report since 2017, connecting with all kinds of people in all kinds of homes. Through this, I have seen for myself the elemental connection between life at home and life at large, whether you live in a Tudorbethan mansion in Sydney or a houseboat in Denmark. It is how I have come to learn quite how many people (one in three, in fact) say they feel sad, lonely, anxious, insecure or just generally out of place at home. Those same people quietly living in spaces and places like yours and mine; homes that just about meet their functional needs but abjectly fail to meet their emotional ones. I know what this looks like from the research, but—far more importantly—I know what this feels like from experience. And I know what most people do: we normalise it. We twist our needs and expectations to fit whatever space we’re in, no matter how miserable it makes us, and get on with life. If a friend confided in you that their partner made them feel that way, you would tell them to leave. Immediately.

No wonder then that the very notion of homemaking bears all the hallmarks of relationship building. Sure, you can fall for the look of a place at first glance, but only time will tell if you feel at home there. When life at home is great, as it so often can be, it has us reaching for words that evoke the ardour of love. We'll talk about the give and take that passes between people and place, on which our sense of self and stability take root. So when I read my stories back, I realised that whilst I’d been writing about the different homes I had lived in since I was a little girl, I’d actually been writing about the different kinds of relationships I’d had with them—romantic, platonic, professional, ideological. They revealed a sort of essential truth to the spaces and places we occupy, the people and things we live with, and the emotions we're reaching for to truly feel at home. For what is our connection to home, if it is not one of the most meaningful relationships we have in our lives?

And just like relationships, I can’t help but think that if we all talked more about how we really feel, we might be able to change a few things—even the big and hard things that feel out of reach. So I hope my stories contribute to that conversation. And I hope they help those of you who are still trying to unpack that very last moving box, finally find a home for everything.

[internalmonologueblog-blog]

Document 21092017

Here's my story. I have to write it because my emotions make me inarticulate and people end up not really understanding what's going on with me. So here it is.

Since my late teens I have suffered with depression, self-harm and suicidal thoughts. I have dealt with it largely by myself. People don't notice and I don't tell them because I don't like to be seen as weak or not in control. I have often thought about seeking help but am reluctant because I know I will be presented with one of two options: counselling or medication. I am skeptical that counseling will help me because I already spend so much time analysing my own thoughts and behaviour that I know my own flaws and I fully understand the reasons why I act and think the way I do. I have a very rational and objective view of things but even that does not help me. I have seen people diagnosed with depression be put on medication and it has made them numb. They can't feel anything. I would rather spend my life going from one extreme to the other, than not feel anything at all. I believe life isn't worth living unless you can feel it. You can't spend your life as an emotionless zombie. Unfortunately, for me, this means that I have made the decision to deal with things in my own way, continuing to feel things very intensely and passionately. You'd maybe think that was a good thing but I feel like it has helped drive people away from me. Normal people can't deal with it. With me. And so, I constantly find myself being rejected and misunderstood. I try so hard to be a good and kind person but it is very rarely reciprocated in the way that I need. I am beginning to wonder if anyone will ever truly understand me.  

I think, at this time, mental health issues are being discussed much more openly, however I feel like this comes hand in hand with complacency. I have attempted to tell some of my closest friends about my depression, only to be brushed off. Maybe they're scared by it and don't know how to deal with it. Maybe they just don't have the time. Or maybe they see it as such a normal thing now that it's not important. But I have tried to connect with the people most important to me and it always seems to backfire. I also fear that people won't take me seriously, that they'll think I'm just being dramatic or overreacting. That it's just a joke.

I refuse to tell my parents about my issues because I am their only child and I know how important I am to them, ergo I feel obligated not to worry them or disappoint them. I want to be that strong, successful and independent woman that doesn't need anybody. I want to be capable of taking care of myself. But also, though I know they care so much, I'm not sure even they would truly understand what I'm going through.  

I go through peaks and troughs with my depression. I still like to think that for the most part I am a very happy and optimistic person and that's all I want to be. I love to be happy and to laugh. I like to make other people happy. And I do believe that, for the most part, I am very in control of my depression. I'm completely aware of it and how it works within my life. Maybe that's why people don't really notice... But there are times when I close in to myself and want to shut out the world. I don't want to get out of bed in the morning. I don't want to go to work. I don't want to see anyone. And then I dwell on everything that is wrong with my life and all the mistakes I have made. The rational part of me knows I am very, very lucky – I am reasonably healthy, I have a job, I have a home, I have a family and I have friends. But somehow still this is not enough and I fear that whatever happens with my life I will never be satisfied.  

A couple of years ago my long term, toxic relationship came to an end. There were many, many problems and so, as difficult as it was at the time, I believe now that it was absolutely for the best. When this happened I had a friend, who I'd just started talking to prior to that. He helped me through it and many other hard times since then. He became my best friend, my confidant and the one person who genuinely seemed to care for my wellbeing. He was there for me no matter what and seemed to always understand what I was going through. He knew about my issues and it didn't faze him. He openly talked to me about it and made me feel better about myself. I allowed myself to trust and depend on him, something I have found increasingly hard to do after being treated poorly and being taken advantage of by several people.  

Earlier this year my friend confessed he had feelings for me. He has a family. I told him that whilst I was very flattered, that nothing could happen. I told him that I accepted the confession and that I wouldn't let it change things between us. I felt like he needed my friendship and support, he was going through some tough times of his own and I didn't want to abandon him. He'd always been there for me and I wanted to be there for him. So, we continued to be very close friends. Recently he became very unhappy about his situation and made the decision to leave his wife. I told him I would support him, whatever he needed to do, I just wanted him to be happy. During the few weeks that followed, we became even closer and we both began to wonder if there could be something more between us. I was reluctant to push this too far because I knew that he had a lot to deal with but we shared some really happy times together and I couldn't help but start to imagine some kind of future with him. Some kind of normality.

Last week he suddenly went quiet on me. I understood that he needed time to process everything that was going on so I tried to leave him to it, but it was hard after talking to him almost every day for the last couple of years. This started to get me down and the trouble is, once the depression starts, it snowballs. He would send me a few one-line messages which was a relief because I was very concerned for him. But it became like to talking to a robot. There was hardly a hint of emotion. I started to feel confused and hurt, not understanding why he wouldn't talk to me. Finally, yesterday, he sent me an email, which I had requested over a face to face conversation because I had a vague sense of what was coming. Not that it could've prepared me. He told me he wanted to try and fix his marriage, something I fully respect, support and would never have stood in the way of. But then he also said he couldn't see me anymore. And that was the nail in the coffin.

The one person in the whole world that knows everything about me, every single little thing in my head, every issue... was cutting me off, just like that. To say I am devastated would be an understatement. I begged him that we remain friends, that I would support him whatever he decided to do, as long as it made him happy but he would have none of it. He told me he couldn't repair his marriage and have me in his life.  

I don't think anyone will fully understand our friendship and how close we were. But I feel like I've had my heart ripped out. As I said earlier, I feel things very deeply and this is no exception. I never expected that he would do something like this to me, knowing what he knows about me and how much he's allowed me to depend on him. I feel betrayed, after being the best and most loyal friend I could be.  

I never expected anything from him – I didn’t want to have an affair with him and I didn't want him to leave his wife for me. I explicitly told him that if he was to make the decision to leave that he must do it for himself, not for me. I tried to do the right thing but yet again, it has backfired.

And now I am left alone to cope with everything, once again. It seems to be a never-ending cycle that I can't break out of. I trust someone, I invest everything in them and then they end up cutting me off. This has probably been the most extreme example of that but I am tired of it. I'm exhausted.  

I tried cutting myself last night for the first time in years, out of utter desperation. Fortunately, I had blunted the stanley knife taking up the old carpet to do too much damage. But the intention was there. And I spent some time trying to decide whether to kill myself or build flatpack furniture. The flatpack furniture won. Maybe I'm lucky in that my depressive state has two halves – the half that wants to submit to the pain and the anguish, the half that just doesn’t see a point anymore, and then there's the other half of me that is a stubborn, angry pain in the ass that will never give up.  

I read a book recently, about a girl who commits suicide and leaves tapes behind for the people who played a part in her demise. Her situation is described as a snowball effect, that the words and actions of other people, no matter how small can stick with you. I've never read anything truer and it really hit a nerve with me because that's exactly what it feels like. Some big uncontrollable snowball, picking up more shit as it rushes towards you.  

I have other issues about my current situation. I have hopes and dreams that I am struggling to achieve. I feel like I'm trapped in the life I'm living and I don't know how to get out. I want to grow and I want to do what I love. But these things are easier to talk about... This most recent series of events is not.  

I don't know what to do now. I don't know what I'm asking for. Maybe I just need to share the burden. I think I just need people to understand because I have lost the one person who did. I need your help.