#i only had one requirement for the movie:

[xx-obliviousfantasy-xx]

Why you assuming people are eating food with their hands touching unclean shit? That's not like...a a requirement for going to the theather.

Me personally, I wash my hands in the bathrom before eating anything, and use hand sanitizer frequently, as well as using disinfectant wipes on the buttons if I think I will touch them while eating???? (Also I don't eat with my hands touching food in theaters usual. Just the wrapper)

I also dont go into crowded theaters cuz I hate people sitting next to people that aren't my family or friends and being in crowds in general, after I had a really bad experience in a theater as a kid. Despite usually ending up in non-crowded theaters and I STILL wear a mask every time I go into one. (a k95 mask if I'm not out of stock. n95 is a bit more expensive and less accessible to me, but also just harder to wear with my glasses sometimes. Need to find a good one eventually because I'll have to wear it for other things.)

_______________________________________

Also, this is just another reason we should bring back and support drive ins.

They're fun community building and supporting events that literally just require staying in your car. You don't have to be around anyone else in close proximity to enjoy watching a film, and the screen is EVEN BIGGER. The only downside is like...no surround sound hi definition audio, or seat movements or whatever the fuck they provide in the extra special theaters and not standard theaters.

Which, I also avoid unless it's something I REALLY wanna see and experience because... standard is just fine and way less expensive

_______________________________________

ALSO,

@i-cant-promise-that2

I recommend trying taking headphones or earplugs with a really nice hat to go over your ears.

I haven't gone to the theaters without my noise cancelling headphones like...since I first got noise cancelling headphones because I KNOW the noise is gonna get too much for me at some point. ESPECIALLY during fucking action &, superhero films.

it honestly doesn't really affect my experience at all. And when I want to hear fully I just take my headphones off or change the setting on them. Even when I briefly didn't have noise cancelling headphones, I still took my other ones and wore them over my thick beanie and/or hoodie (which, I normally put my headphones over my beanie anyways and then my hood over my head) and it was still significantly better than raw dogging that shit.

Watching movies should be a lot like going to a concert; Protect your ears.

Ofc, if you tried this and it's still too loud, TOTALLY fair and I'm sorry for wasting your time 😔

plus, honestly plugs don't help for when you can FEEL the audio which can be extremely overwhelming at times.

idk if this is a boomer take but I think ppl should make more of an effort to go see movies in theaters bc I couldn’t bear it if the movie theater industry went down and the only way to watch movies was through streaming I’m not strong enough

[rauspberries]

just a friend - s.r.

spencer reid x bau liaison!reader. pt two to still a friend.

summary: you thought love was dead to you, locked away -- until you realized its in all the little things.

tags: afab reader, late seasons reader, mentions of themes present in criminal minds, slight hurt/comfort, fluff, later seasons reid

word count: 2k

notes: part two to still a friend! so much shorter because my brain keeps frying every time i type. not the proudest of it but ohhh well.

hiii @reidswrld

It had been a month since you had gone back to work. One month of countless therapy sessions, one month of reassuring hugs from Penelope and one month of recurring nightmares and panic attacks, much to your dismay.

You thought it would go away with time. That speaking about your experience with friends and a licensed therapist would help release you from the burden your subconscious loved to carry. You wished that you could lock it in a cage, push it to the back of your mind like many members of the BAU had done with their own trauma, but you couldn’t. You had always been too emotional.

Your job required you to look at cases similar to yours on a daily basis. Abductions, tortures, murders, a few done at the hands of spouses, partners. Every time you saw a photo of a victim strapped to a chair, you were reminded of that dreaded night in your kitchen, gun to your head and dread sitting deep in your gut.

While things had surely gotten better, you weren’t at your best. You pasted on a smile at work, fluttering around the desks in the bullpen and trying to hide your feelings from the gaggle of highly-proficient profilers. For the most part, it worked. Despite you knowing that they could see right through your charade, they tended to dial back the amount of concern they showed for it.

Except for Spencer.

Ever since you had finally pulled yourself off of his couch and into a new apartment, he had been watching you like a hawk, and you didn’t mind it. His company had become just as soothing as a warm cup of tea. There was a normalcy about the way he cared for you, so hidden and yet so obvious.

Spencer wasn’t the type to do big displays of affection, nor the largest fan of physical touch. While he had his moments, like his warm thigh pressing into yours on the couch or his hand snaking around the back of your neck for a reassuring squeeze, it was obvious that he preferred small acts of service instead.

He hadn’t stopped giving you annotated books. All of them sat on their own shelf in your new apartment, a shelf he had helped you pick out, carry inside and build. He had insisted on organizing them in some type of order, like alphabetical order or by author, but you refused. You kept them on the shelf in the order you received them. It was like a time capsule, looking at the notes he used to write in the margins and how much more personalized they had become over the weeks you two had spent growing closer.

There were also other things. The vase in your kitchen always had a fresh bouquet of brightly-colored flowers in it, usually centered around your favorite color. He called you at night when he knew you were attempting to sleep, knowing you’d struggle to succumb to your exhaustion, fearing the worst. He had never been a fan of movies that didn’t provoke some type of intellectual discussion, yet watched all of your rom-coms with a furrowed brow and a focused pout of his lips. When you had been particularly upset one day, he had taken you to the nearby animal shelter, watching with a ghost of a smile as you giggled at a puppy licking your face.

For him, it had always been about your happiness. For a while, you thought he was just being friendly. Other than the regulating kiss he had placed on your lips on his couch, Spencer had never shown any interest in pushing you any further, only interested in your well-being and the state of your mental health.

For a while, you would admit that he was right to do so. Calling off dating for years, finally dating just to find out he’s a murderer and then calling off dating due to your trauma was a valid reason to not consider your best friend a viable option for a relationship. But it was hard to ignore his care, his tenderness. The things he said without actually saying them. It wasn’t a question on if Spencer liked you back — the question was when either of you would feel brave enough to act on it.

One night, you slept on his couch. You had spent the evening watching all of the romance movies that made you cry until it exhausted you. Spencer had laughed at your extremely empathetic reactions, causing you to laugh until your stomach hurt, shoving at his shoulder with whiny pleas for him to stop.

Half-conscious yet leaning towards sleep, you recall where you are. Your arm aches slightly from laying on it, a strand of your hair tickles your cheek from where it’s trapped against the pillow, the pant leg of your pajamas is pulled up to the middle of your calf. You’re on Spencer’s couch. You’re safe.

That is until you hear the click of a gun, the cool feeling of metal on your forehead.

You gasp so hard you choke on air as you sit up, blinking rapidly as your heart thuds against your chest. You cough at the sudden intake of oxygen as you look around, taking in your surroundings. Spencer’s apartment. Green walls, dark wood, deadbolt on the door. You’re safe, you’re okay. 

“Hey.” A soft, raspy voice comes from near the foot of the couch. You look up to see Spencer, standing in the doorway of his bedroom with the collar of his t-shirt askew and his long curls a mess atop his head. It’s obvious you’ve woken him, especially with the way the heel of his hand automatically rubs at his eye. “Nightmare?”

You shake your head, guilt eating at you for disturbing him. “No, Spence. Just coughing. Go back to sleep, it’s okay,” you insist, not wanting to be a bother. With your jobs, a full night’s rest was a luxury - you didn’t want to take that from him.

Despite your dismissal, he steps closer, looming over the back of the couch as he looks at you. “You’re cold.” He notices, eyes focused on the slight tremor of your bottom lip and the way your fingers clutched at the thin blanket covering your lap.

Nose wrinkling, he turns to head towards the front door, grabbing a blanket off of the arm chair a foot away from it. He returns to your side just to drape it over your body, his fingertips brushing your shoulders as he pulls it up to your chin. You open your mouth to protest, but Spencer just shakes his head as he taps at your shoulder. “Sit up,” he instructs gently, voice barely above a murmur.

And, of course, you listen, moving your back off of the arm of the couch and giving him enough room to slide behind you. His long legs stretch on either side of you, caging you in, as his hands find your shoulders, guiding you to lean back against his chest. 

You react without thinking. You’re sinking into him like you’ve never felt the touch of another before, knees pressing into his as you lay your cheek upon his chest, letting yourself be soothed by the soft thudding of his heartbeat. His arm wraps around you tightly, one hand lying upon your ribcage while the other slowly traces your spine. 

“You won’t be comfortable lying like this all night.” You mumble, eyes already fluttering shut as you try to commit the feeling of lying against him to memory. “You’re too lanky for this couch.”

Spencer hums as if considering, shoulders raising in a slight shrug. His eyes aren’t focused on your face at the moment, instead watching his hand as his fingernails drag along your spine, goosebumps following in their wake. “I feel pretty comfortable right now, actually.”

Scrunching your nose, you open your eyes, chin tilting up just to look at him. “Liar,” you tease, the corners of your lips pulling up into a soft, sleepy smile. It had taken a while for a smile to appear on your face again after that night. Spencer never wanted to see it go away.

His focus finally moves from his hand to your face, eyebrows raising. “Would I lie to you?” He questions, the same taunting lilt in his tone.

You press your lips together at that, shaking your head the best you could with just how much you had molded into him. There’s an uncomfortable swirling feeling in your stomach at the way he glances down at you, solidifying the fact that was what happening right now was real. It was both a frightening and reassuring thought. “No. You wouldn’t.”

A hum rumbles in his chest in response. The hand on your back creeps up to the back of your neck, slender fingers threading into your hair as his nails brush soothingly against your scalp. You’re not sure if it's the exhaustion that makes him so suddenly touchy, but you don’t mind it. You’re convinced you could lay here forever, just like this.

“Thank you.” You murmur softly, index finger dragging along his skin from his elbow to his wrist. He doesn’t even twitch, just as relaxed as you are. It made warmth spread through your body like wildfire.

“For what?” He responds immediately, although his tone stays just as quiet and calm, a sleepy murmur to it.

The soft material of his shirt scratches against your cheek as you look up at him again, his eyes diverting to catch your gaze. “Being here. Being so nice to me. I know that’s your nature, but I feel like you’ve gone past the requirements for a supportive friend.” You trail off with an amused smile, although Spencer could see the sincerity in your eyes.

His lips tilt up at the corners in a sleepy smile, hand falling back to the middle of your spine. “No problem at all. I’d do it any time, any reason.” 

Looking up at him, you find yourself trying to memorize everything about him. The soft slant of his nose, the stray curl that stuck out like an antenna from his mussed curls, the wrinkle around his mouth from smiling. They’re all features you have found yourself finding comfort in, even before the last few months. He’d always been there, whether you had noticed it or not. Inviting you to movies you had no interest in seeing, even if you really wanted to, or staying late in the office when you did just to spin around in the chair on the other side of your desk while he babbled.

Subconsciously, you’re leaning into him further. Before you can think about it, your chin is tilting up higher, nose brushing against his tentatively. You can hear his sharp intake of breath, feel the heave of his chest underneath you, but there’s nothing that indicates him pulling back. 

So you go for it.

Slowly but surely, you press your lips against his. It’s meant to be quick, fleeting, however his hand is quick to skirt back up your spine, holding you in place with a hand at the nape of your neck. The kiss stays smooth, steady, almost agonizingly slow. It’s stable – you’re not surprised.

It only lasts for a couple moments before you’re pulling away, not wanting to seem like too much. Immediately, you lay your cheek back against his chest, letting a giddy smile twitch at your lips at the sound of his quickened heartbeat against your ear. “You’ll stay right here tonight?”

“Mhm.” He hums in response, fingernails brushing against your scalp again. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here.”

Usually, you’d question a promise like that. Wonder if it was genuine, if you’d wake up to be disappointed. But now, being lured to sleep without a fear that nightmares would follow you, you don’t have the time to question it. 

Frankly, you don’t want to.

[b-skarsgard]

Bill Skarsgård’s transformation into the hideous-looking vampire Count Orlok for Robert Eggers’ “Nosferatu” was an arduous process — with the end goal of making the Swedish actor completely unrecognizable.

“I was not so interested in Bill’s features, aside from his eyes,” Eggers says of Skarsgård. “The things that make [Orlock] not just an intimidating, masculine human being, is the fact that he’s also decaying and dead. Even the design of the teeth needed to be something that could be fucked up.”

Oscar nominated makeup effects designer David White created over 62 prosthetic pieces that required a team of six to apply. Skarsgård was covered from head to toe, including elements for his tongue and eyes. Only the soles of his feet were untouched.

read the at the link or under the cut

The film reimagines F.W. Murnau’s 1922 silent classic starring Max Schreck, whom Eggers wanted to reference when it came to Orlock’s look. One such detail was in Orlok’s hands and fingers. “I wanted to extend Bill’s fingers ever so slightly, and I [asked] David about creating something to push the envelope,” says Eggers.

In coming up with a concept for the hands and fingers, White had one that was quickly scrapped. “I was playing with the idea of soft mechanics to extend them, but they’re really long and they weren’t as dexterous,” he says. The idea was too cumbersome for something that had to be very sharp. Orlok also needed to hold things, open boxes and write letters.

White used a dense material so Skarsgård could feel things. It took a while to get to the final design, but in the end, the nails were a quarter of an inch longer on the tips. They were custom-made to be “gnarly and weathered,” White says. “‘Arthritic’ was a word we looked at, as well as having them slightly unusual in their angle.

“They’re not quite right, as if they’ve been used for so many years.”

In a nod to Schreck’s silhouette, Eggers also wanted Orlok to be hunchbacked. White built a one-piece prosthetic with a thick foam insert. “That took away the weight, otherwise, it would be 46 pounds of silicon,” White says. Breaking down the application, he adds, “The back goes on first, the front overlaps the back, but the rest is all in little sections across the arms and the legs. It’s between 18 to 25 different pieces of muscle which overlap. They were pre-painted and ready to go.”

Orlok’s full reveal comes when Ellen’s (Lily-Rose Depp) husband Thomas (Nicholas Hoult) heads to the crypt and finds the sarcophagus. Orlok is in a state of decay with intricate veining and coloring.

White made it darker on the underside because he’s been lying down, but his front is lighter and waxier.

Florin Lăzărescu, the film’s Romanian folklore consultant, was the inspiration for the blood-pooling color. Says Eggers, “He reminded me that the vampire is often described as being red-faced in Romanian folklore, which was a concept that was very intimidating to do. What David came up with was beautiful, and he did paint jobs where this guy was red as hell.”

White was tasked with creating full body prosthetics, including a penis. “It was a necessary piece to make,” he laughs. Eggers adds, “I was allowed one penis [for] this movie. He rises out of the coffin naked. That in itself is a bit of a phallic act, as is most of everything that Orlok does in the movie.”

Every detail of a decayed Orlok was considered, including a dead eye made possible with special contact lenses. “I even made a sock of a tongue that Bill could use in certain scenes, which was all gnarly and scored and black and horrible, you know. So poor Bill, he took it well,” White says.

[rvmanoffbarnes]

Steal my girl || (Eddie Munson x reader x Bob Floyd) Crossover.

Summary: It was impossible not to fall for the charms of the sweet and kind Y/N. Eddie and Bob knew that very well. And they would do anything to win her heart.

《tags: fluff, angst, Bob being a sweetheart, Eddie being an idiot, physical fight》

This is dedidacted to @hahahafucku 🌟💌

As soon as I read the idea you asked me for, I got excited and had to start writing it right away. Joseph and Lewis are my favorites, and it would be interesting to see them interact in a movie or project.....maybe Avengers: Doomsday???

So here you go.... i hope you like it!!!

The bar was packed that Friday night. Y/N went from one place to another to take people's drink orders, then clean the bar table and repeat this process. Over and over again. It was exhausted, but she needed the money to pay the rent for the place she called home.

The sound of people talking was camouflaged by the band that was playing on the bar's small stage. Corrored Coffin. They used to play on the weekends and a lot of people went to see them. Y/N stayed out of it, since the job required that her attention be on the clients and that no fights form between them. However, as soon as she met Eddie Munson, she had to divide her attention so she could see him play from time to time.

Y/N looks up from the bar and notices how Eddie plays the guitar with dedication and seems to enjoy it every time. She smiles as soon as she notices how Eddie searches the audience for someone's gaze, and when he finds it he winks, causing the girl who was ordering the glasses to let out a giggle. It was unbelievable how Eddie managed to make the girl feel shy with just one look.

He was so carefree but that didn't mean he didn't take things seriously. His outgoing personality and confidence made the girl feel attracted. Well, that and Eddie's flirting with her.

The first time Eddie came to the bar, they hadn't met. He was so worried about not forgetting the chords that he barely had time to see the girl who was attentively observing the group. Also, after the performance some girls offered him a drink, and like a gentleman, Eddie couldn't say no. After that night, it became a habit for him to play at the bar, have a few drinks, flirt with some girls—and on some occasions, have more fun with them than he should—and go home smiling from ear to ear.

It wasn't until one night when a client got in over his head with the girl who always treated everyone with respect and sweetness, that he found himself in the position to intervene. Eddie didn't hesitate to hit the man who disrespected Y/N on the chin. He knew it could damage his reputation with the bar boss who had offered him and his band the job. But as soon as he looked at her tender smile, it was all worth it.

From that day on, Eddie never left her side. And as the days passed, he fell for the girl's charms. Eddie knew he couldn't hurt her, she was so perfect and he was so.... Eddie. So he only flirted with her as friends and didn't cross the line, even though inside he was dying to call her his girlfriend.

While the band thanked the audience for their good reception at the bar, Y/N was in charge of preparing drinks for the members.

"Thank you very much for listening to us tonight" Eddie thanks into the microphone "We promise it won't be the last time. Good night"

The people applaud and Eddie begins to put the guitar aside, then jumps off the stage and walks among the bodies receiving congratulations until he reaches the bar, where the girl is waiting for him.

"How's my number one fan doing?" Eddie sits on the little stool. He smiles sideways and his flirtatious expression appears in seconds when he is in front of her.

Y/N smiles and hands him his drink.

"Very good. Especially now that I have your attention; every fan's desire," she jokes, letting out a giggle. Eddie likes that sound of hers.

"Obviously you get special treatment" Eddie says grabbing the glass of beer.

She raises an eyebrow at the game between them. "Oh yeah?"

"Of course. I have to say it so you can keep giving me and the boys free beers," he jokes and she playfully slaps his arm.

"Get a room," says Gareth, reaching next to the curly-haired man.

“Hello Gareth,” Y/N greets, handing him her glass.

"Y/N. Will you guys just fucking admit that you're secretly dating?" Eddie hits the back of his head.

"More respect. There is a lady present" Y/N shakes her head in amusement, but feeling shy all of the sudden. The question lingers in the air.

Jeff arrives at the bar and she hands him her glass, to which he thanks her.

"You guys are incredible," she mentions. She walks away from the bar and Eddie frowns slightly.

"Where are you going?" He follows her with his eyes like a lost puppy.

"I have to serve the table over there" she points and Eddie realizes that it is the flight pilots' table "But i'm going to finish my shift after this table. I'll be back"

He takes her hand before she continues and she looks at him.

"Promise?"

"I promise, Munson."

Don't misunderstand him. There was nothing wrong with Y/N ​​doing her job. Not at all.

But he knew who was at that table.

The boy with glasses who seemed to get nervous every time Y/N approached the table, while his friends teased him until the tips of his ears turned red. Eddie frowned slightly as he stood erect as the girl—his girl in his imagination—came with a smile to serve them. To the boy who always clumsily tried to conquer her as best he could, although he always became a sea of ​​nerves. The boy who always offered to help her clean the tables when she was about to close. The boy who kept looking at her as if she were hanging the stars in the sky.... Eddie agreed with him on that.

That boy's name was Bob Floyd.

Bob was nervous.

It was the fifth time he had come this month and he had never managed to keep up the conversation with Y/N. His nerves got the best of him as the girl smiled at him when asking for her order, although by now she already knew it by heart: peanuts and a beer. His friends made fun of sweet Bob who could barely keep his gaze on her for more than 5 seconds. He was already tired of being a spectator of her beauty and charm, so tonight he would try to make a move.

He would ask her how her night was.

Jake is the first to elbow his arm to alert Bob of her arrival at their table. He stands up straight and a sideways smile spreads across his face, adjusting his glasses.

"Hey guys. How have you been?" she asks with a smile.

The boys knew about Bob's crush on the girl, so they never tried to flirt with her out of respect for him. Maybe the first time they came to the bar they made comments to the girl that made her blush, but seeing Bob's frozen state when he saw the girl, they decided to stop. They had never seen him that way, despite his innate shyness with girls. This time was different for him.

“Hey Y/N, did you miss us?” Bradley asks with an amused tone.

She nods her head, humoring him.

"The place doesn't feel the same without you here" she jokes.

"Ow, she misses us. We need to come more often," Jake mentions. He turns to look at Bob who is trying to work up the courage to finally talk to him. The blonde decides to help him "Right, Bob?"

Bob feels in the spotlight, so he shakes his head to affirm it.

"Yeah, yeah. We should come back here more often. Absolutely," he says hurriedly. She smiles tenderly at him "Hello Y/N."

"Hi, Bob"

The others look at each other and shake their heads. Bradley motions to leave them alone.

"Oh, look the pool table is free" he starts to stand up.

"Oh, come on. I haven't played a game in a while," Phoenix points out.

Bob becomes alarmed suddenly.

"Y/N, do you mind if we play while you bring us drinks? I'm sure Bob can help you and chat with you for a bit," Jake mentions, winking at the one who turns red.

"It's okay. No problem," she says and then looks at Bob. "You don't have to help me, I can bring them in a moment. It's my job after all."

Bob swallows and shakes his head, immediately getting up from his seat.

"I would love to be with you," he widens his eyes at the error of his words. "I mean... I would love to be with you... to help you with the drinks. Yeah, that..."

Y/N laughs and bites her cheek seeing how he gets. "I would love for you to help me. Come with me".

He follows her like his life depends on it. Y/N stops at the bar and begins to prepare the glasses with Bob watching her from across the counter. Eddie is just a few steps away from them, carefully observing the scene before his eyes.

“How was your night, Y/N?” he dares to ask.

"Nothing out of the ordinary. The good thing is that I haven't come across any idiots who want to take advantage or any liquid of strange origin that I have to clean up," she jokes with the last bit. Bob laughs with her.

"If someone is bothering you... I can take care of them" Bob says adjusting his glasses.

"I know, Bobby. I'm counting on you for it," she admits.

Y/N was confused by those little actions Bob did for her. She thought the boy in the uniform and brown hair was handsome and sweet. She could see how difficult it was for him to leave his comfort zone, but she still found him charming. Sometimes the girl was confused by his presence, but at the end of the day she always thought back to the boy with the unruly curls a couple of meters near them. Eddie Munson. Y/N was trying to stay out of the situation, because she was suspecting that Bob might have feelings for her. She didn't want to cause him any confusion or wrong idea that could hurt him, if she wasn't already clear with her own feelings for both boys.

“Y/N?” Bob asks her.

She looks up as she finishes with the glasses.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Bob. What's up?"

Before he can ask the question, a guy vomits on the ground a few feet away from them. Y/N makes a face and excuses herself to him to go clean up the mess, but not before telling him that the beers are ready for him and his group of friends. Bob sighs and begins to take the beer mugs as best he can.

"Hey" Bob turns to see a boy with curly hair come to his side. He adjusts his glasses.

"Hey"

"Is your name Bob?" He nods.

"Yes. And you are...?"

"Someone asking you what your intentions are with Y/N." Bob frowns and is surprised by the boy's behavior.

He had seen him a couple of times playing with his band and talking to Y/N.

"Sorry. I don't understand you," Bob tells him.

Eddie just laughs and raises his hands.

"I'm just asking, buddy," he mentions, "Y/N is my friend and I don't want anyone to hurt her. That's all."

Bob is not intimidated by him and clears his throat. "The last thing I want is to hurt her," Bob finishes before leaving with his beer mugs.

Eddie watches him leave, an uncomfortable feeling invading his being.

Y/N finishes her shift and prepares to join Eddie. She had promised him that she would return to him as soon as her shift was over. She applies lip balm and fixes her hair a little, hoping he'll make a move to let her know if he feels the same way. Some clue or indication that would help her understand that. She felt the tension between them, but she didn't want to get crazy ideas if it didn't turn out to be what she thought it was.

In the books she used to read, it always turned out that the boy flirtatiously teasing the girl was because he felt things. Y/N wanted to check it out that night. When she came out of the bathroom, she looked for Eddie. She smiled to herself as she approached the boy in the leather jacket, but seeing him chatting with a girl and as he held her waist with his arm, the girl stopped a few steps away from him.

Y/N puts her lips in a straight line and doesn't know whether or not to touch his shoulder to let him know she's ready. Eddie senses her presence and turns his body, but without letting go of the girl from his waist.

"Oh, hello. Everything okay?" Eddie asks almost nonchalantly. Y/N nods her head and smiles shyly.

"Yes, I just wanted to let you know that my shift is over" she explains, playing with her fingers.

Eddie opens his eyes feigning surprise.

"Oh, right. You see we were going to get together when you finished" he says and Y/N glances sideways at the girl who caresses the boy's disheveled hair "Would you mind letting me cancel it? I just met Rachel and we're enjoying it"

"Rebeca" the girl corrects.

"Rebeca" Eddie clarifies "I'm sorry"

Y/N feels a weight on her heart and tries to camouflage it with a small, heartless laugh. Eddie looks different, like he's not himself, which leaves the girl confused.

"Um... yeah, totally" Y/N feels her voice break for a moment.

"I'll leave you to continue having fun. See you around, Eddie." She turns on her heel and walks away from both of them as quickly as possible. Eddie notices how her gaze falls and he hates himself for it.

That stupid jealousy he felt made him do stupid things.

On the other hand, Y/N walks past the pilots' table, being watched by most of them, especially Bob. Who never took his eyes off her and witnessed how the girl who frequently invaded her thoughts was hurt by the boy with whom he had exchanged words a few moments ago. The boy with glasses clenches his jaw and rushes to follow the girl of his dreams.

Y/N leaves the bar and takes a deep breath as she walks away from the noise. She doesn't want anyone to see her cry, the mere fact of crying in public embarrasses her, so she goes to an area where the light can't find her. Except, Bob catches up with her.

“Y/N” Bob says as the girl turns her back to him. She hurries to dry her tears and lets out a small laugh, without turning around.

"Bob, what are you doing here?" she asks.

"Y/N. Look at me" he asks her.

"I'm fine, it's just that... the conditioning was almost on maximum and it gave me a cold" she lies.

“Y/N,” he says, his tone more firm.

She swallows and slowly turns around to look at him. Bob frowns slightly when he sees her in that state, he doesn't like it.

"I'm fine," she lies.

Bob shakes his head and hugs her in his arms. She lets herself be hugged and cries. She hides her face in the boy's chest and tries to prevent her tears from wetting his uniform. Bob strokes her hair in a gentle movement, while his other hand hugs her from behind. He didn't expect his night and his attempt to get closer to her to end like this. He had never seen her cry, and he hated that she did. Especially since a curly boy turns out to be the cause of it.

"I'm here. Cry all you need to cry, darling" he rocks her in his arms.

"But I'll wet your uniform," she laughs lightly.

He imitates her, but he doesn't really care.

"It's the least I could care about right now," he pulls away from her and cups her cheek, wiping away the trail of her tears with his thumb.

She sniffles and lowers her gaze. Bob lifts her chin and combs a strand of hair that falls across her forehead.

"You still look pretty" She smiles slightly. Their moment is interrupted by a boy's voice. Eddie Munson.

"Leave her. Now" Bob turns around and puts Y/N behind his body.

Suddenly, his companions and the members of Eddie's band chase him. Eddie stands at the height of the brunette blonde and tenses his jaw.

"You should go. She doesn't need any more trouble from you," Bob says firmly.

"Guys..." Y/N tries to say.

"I see what you're doing. You're trying to play the hero so she can finally see you through different eyes." Eddie scoffs. "Face it, Bob. That's not going to happen while I'm here."

Bob laughs unamusedly. His companions try to stop him, but he does not allow himself to be intimidated. Not now.

"Yeah, right. Meanwhile you give her false hope and flirt with another girl, leaving her crying." Bob intervenes. "You should focus on what you do instead. Because, honestly, you'll only hurt her."

Eddie can't take it anymore and throws the first blow. Bob receives it, but does not stop and fights back. Y/N tries to separate them with the help of the others.

"Guys, stop it!" The girl exclaims.

Jeff and Gareth take it upon themselves to separate Eddie and arrest him. Jake holds Bob so that the fight does not continue and does not escalate, while the girl proceeds to intertwine their fingers to make him stop. Y/N feels guilty and all she wants to do is run away from there. Eddie's breathing is labored by the adrenaline of the moment and his gaze falls to Bob and Y/N's intertwined hands. He feels his chest tighten and looks back at Y/N, who looks at him with disappointment.

“Y/N, I…” Eddie begins.

She shakes her head.

"Save it, Eddie. I can't go on with this," he admits, and feels the verbal vomit coming.

"I don't want you to get hurt," Eddie says.

She lets out a humorless laugh. "But you can do it, right?" She fights back

"It's my problem if I get hurt. I'm a grown woman and if I screw up, fine, I learn from it."

"Don't screw it up with him, then," Eddie admits. He wants to confess what he feels, but that little voice in his head prevents him from doing so.

She shakes her head, puzzled.

"It's true that we both have that flirting game. But I've always given you to understand that I have feelings for you," she admits and Bob next to her lowers his gaze.

"Unlike you, who confuse me with your dates and the trouble you get into with the girls you meet at the bar." The rest remain silent and not knowing whether to intervene or not. "Yes, maybe I'm attracted to Bob too. But I've always stayed away so in that way i don't hurt him or you."

Y/N lets out a sigh and bites her bottom lip. "I can't stay here," she says and lets go of Bob's hand to walk away from the place. Leaving Eddie deep in thought and Bob trailing behind her.

It's been a week since the incident outside the bar. She talked to her boss to see if she could use her days off and stay out of the bar for a while until she cleared her head. He understood her and accepted her without reproach. Y/N was sitting on the porch of her house looking at the starry night. Her emotions were getting the better of her, so she needed a way to distract herself.

Eddie had called her, texted her, and tried to visit, but she wasn't ready to face him, even though she knew she would have to at some point. Not now.

Suddenly he sees a car approaching and frowns because he can't see who it is. The car stops and the brunette gets out, adjusting his glasses in the process. She gets up and watches as he approaches slowly but surely.

“Hello,” Bob greets.

"Hey," she frowns when she sees him approaching.

"How did you know where I live?"

"Clark"

Her boss gave him the address.

She laughs softly and looks down, holding the blanket over her shoulders.

“Bob, I…”

“Y/N, I like you,” he admits. And before she can answer him, he continues, "I know it's a bad time to tell you after everything that happened, but I needed to confess. I've liked you ever since you helped me clean up the mess I made with the peanuts that night at the bar." She remains silent, waiting for him to continue. "You captivated me when you were the first girl who remembered my name every time I went out with the boys somewhere" he adds "But I fell in love with you when I knew I didn't want to stop seeing you. When every time I asked the boys when we would be back to the bar, because you were the only thing that motivated me to go. Just to see you."

Y/N sighs and smiles while her eyes watered.

"I couldn't keep it to myself anymore, I needed you to know, even though I know now is not a good time" Bob says "I'm not expecting you to feel the same, but if that's the case, only if that's the case... I can wait whatever it takes for me to have the honor of calling you mine."

She bites her lip, feeling her heart race.

"The last thing I want to do is put pressure on you so..." Bob is interrupted by her lips.

Bob can swear he's going to melt when he feels her soft lips on his. He hugs her with his arms around her waist and she clings to his jacket, feeling the blanket fall at her feet. They're suddenly out of breath, so Y/N pulls away with a smile on her face. Bob pouts and chases after her lips, but she stops him.

"I like you too, Bob," she admits. He smiles "I would like to try it with you. But slowly, so we can enjoy every moment of this"

He nods quickly.

"As you wish, darling." She laughs shyly.

Bob purses her lips into a pout. "For now, can we continue kissing for a little while longer, if that's okay?" he says into her lips, closing the distance.

"Of course"

They both kiss while the stars witness the beginning of this love story.

Hey! I hope you enjoyed it.

Honestly, this was one of my favorites one shots so far. I love Lewis as Bob and Joseph as Eddie, so when you ask this request I started writing it right away.

Eddie was a little mean here, but we all know he's a sweetheart.

If you like it, tell me what u think in the comments.

Thank you <3333

[strawbie-doodle]

NINIJA TURTLE MOVIE GOOD

[enter-drfrog]

Broke: being upset that I don’t won’t be in London when Mischief Movie Night returns or The Comedy About Spies

Woke: seeing the 10-year anniversary cast of The Play That Goes Wrong because I am still in London

[skitskatdacat63]

I'm not built for watching movies w straight dudes cause I can't say the things I want to say like, "James Bond would benefit from puppy play," "He should seduce a man next," "If I made a Bond film, I'd have him infiltrate a bdsm club as a sub" etc etc.

[icewindandboringhorror]

If you became super rich and could design your own house, but could only add THREE unnecessary/random/expensive home additions (like how people will have bowling alleys, movie theatres, closets with museums of shoes, car display rooms, spa rooms, wine cellars, etc. in their mansions) - what three would you choose?

[yllowpages]

[teenagefeeling]

just got back from barbieeeeee

(tags contain very mild spoilers but only for like 2 throwaway jokes)

[bananonbinary]

as someone who does some of the outsourced freelance work, even if we have very strict quality standards (and the company i work with does), we get low pay and tight deadlines (as in, a few hours to a full day, depending on how long the project is). personally, i usually have just enough time to caption the work, sync the captions, and then watch it through only once to check for egregious mistakes before i have to submit it. and jobs are distributed first-come-first-serve, so even things that are sent in as one batch (eg, a tv series) are then captioned by dozens of people with no communication with each other. so you'll get different episodes or even different chunks of the same episode with variances in things that require personal judgement: what background sounds make it in, how speakers are identified, how music is described, regional spelling variations, etc. and again, the company i work with is actually one of the more professional and high-quality of the lot.

not to mention that since they don't have control over which freelancer gets the job, big companies are so upset at the idea of us seeing their footage that they copyright it to hell and back. doesn't matter that i'd get in a lot of legal trouble if i tried to download a tv show from my job, doesn't matter if i sign an NDA, i've gotten videos that are palette-swapped, mirrored, have 16 logos watermarked on, and are generally so distorted it looks like a pirated cartoon trying to stay on youtube. unsurprisingly, this does NOT help my ability to correctly identify who is saying what.

I, a hearing person who likes subtitles just as a preference, shouldn't have to read a subtitle that's obvious nonsense, go back a couple seconds, and listen again in order to figure out what's going on. An accessibility feature should not be the most half-assed part of a professionally made production. Scripted media has absolutely no excuse for not having subtitles or having subtitles that aren't perfectly verbatim. Professional captioning services should be ashamed of the shoddy work that they put out. Captions should be treated as a part of the production, just like filming, editing, audio balancing, etc - and anything that releases with missing or bad captions should be seen as unfinished

[bending-sickle]

if y’all want a taste of how shit my day was today:

brother: are those [plant] too?

me: yes

brother: *angry* why did you answer like that? i asked you a normal question.

me: *on the edge of brother-induced tears for the past ten minutes* …and i gave you a normal answer?

brother: no, your tone was wrong. you sounded exasperated.

gee, why the fuck would that be?!

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for telling my boyfriend’s coworkers that he’s lying about his body count?

I (35f) have been dating my boyfriend (32m) for four years. It’s honestly been the best relationship until last Friday when it all went down. I feel like I’m in the right, but now I’m wondering if I overstepped.

For context, my boyfriend has been a professional Slasher for about eight months now. He’s always really admired Cryptids, Monsters, and Nightmares so when his application was finally accepted, he was over the moon even if he was starting in a lower position than he initially applied for.

At his company, being a Slasher requires a lot of travel which we knew when he accepted the position. The end goal is for him to get a promotion to at least regional Nightmare (he wants Cryptid, but that position doesn’t have a lot of turnover) but to get that he needs to be in role for at least 12 months OR meet his goals for three months in a row. Once he promotes, we plan to relocate to his new region and “start talking about our future.”

(Side note: no this isn’t about him not popping the question yet. We are both in agreement that marriage comes after financial stability. I run a small business doing scare consults and, while it’s been growing, I wouldn’t call it stable yet. So neither of us are ready.)

I told him it’s completely normal for it to take a whole year before he’s ready to promote and he really should focus on adjusting to the company before thinking about next steps. I used to work for a competitor (I’ve been retired for five years now) and I know it can be hard to go from only taking the occasional human life to having to take over half a dozen a week. It’s not a light workload, no matter how easy it looks in the movies. One of my best friends Slashes part-time and she still only averages about five lives a week despite having done it for years. Especially these days, it can be really hard to meet quota. Humans are getting smarter, no matter what the Council wants us to think.

Anyway, boyfriend didn’t do as well as he thought he would in his first couple months. Totally understandable, of course, which I told him. I suggested he ask his boss if he could be put on a couple team assignments or even a duo until he got the hang of it. That was our first real fight. He thought I was doubting his ability to kill. He brought up how I told him it would take over a year to promote and how I said that this job wasn’t for everyone (His first assignment ended with a 0% kill rate, but that’s a different story). He said it felt like I didn’t believe in him and he said that if that was the case then maybe we shouldn’t be thinking about marriage so soon.

It got pretty messy after that. I felt like he was forgetting that I’d worked in the same field and, arguably, had a lot more experience (not to brag, but I averaged a 98% kill rate). Also, four years is NOT too soon to talk about marriage. He said I didn’t understand how he needed to focus on his career right now. I told him I thought he was taking Slasher too lightly just because it wasn’t Cryptid. He accused me of not respecting him and then things spiraled from there.

We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean and I’m embarrassed that it turned into a bit of a fang measuring contest. I ended up sleeping under the bed for a few nights until he coaxed me out to apologize.

It was a rough patch, but we talked it out. We agreed that, going forward, I wouldn’t offer advice unless he asked and he would try not to take so much of his frustration home with him. He took a weekend off and we went on a recreational haunting trip in the Montana woods.

Things did get better after that. I tried not to give him consults every time he came back from a work trip. He started bringing me souvenirs like roses and cursed puzzle boxes his work said he could have. It became easier just to hang out with each other and it felt like we were back to normal.

But then, four months ago, he came home super pissed because his boss put him on a PIP. (A performance improvement plan.) Apparently, boyfriend had not been doing better at work, he had just stopped telling me when he had a bad assignment. I saw the paperwork he got (he left it in the dungeon under the house, I didn’t go through his stuff) and he’s been missing quota by a LOT. As a junior Slasher, he was supposed to be executing at least 6 people a week, but he’d been lucky to be maiming half that.

Obviously, I had to talk to him about that. We rent our house and, even though I could have afforded the rent on my own, I didn’t want to jeopardize the investments I was making in my business (I was in the process of hiring an assistant to handle my scheduling). Plus, we agreed from day one that we would be 50/50 on rent and I would take care of the rest of the bills because I earned more. I felt that if his financial situation was in jeopardy, he needed to talk to me about it.

I tried to approach him a bit differently than last time. I asked him if there was anything I could do to help. I told him about my slasher friend and how maybe she could give him advice if he didn’t want any from me. But he said he needed to figure stuff out on his own and that if he couldn’t get himself off the PIP then he would go back to work for his dad’s janitorial company.

I let it go. I was worried but I didn’t want to fight again just after patching the holes from the last blow out. It really bugged me that he thought I didn’t believe in him so I committed to giving him the benefit of the doubt. I said okay and asked him if he needed me to meal prep for both of us that week. He offered me grocery money, but I said it was fine since I’d had to deal with a lot of humans breaking in lately and I still had some leftover in the dungeon.

Fast forward a month. Boyfriend got off the PIP super fast. He worked his way off of it over Spring Break and started taking on a lot of extra assignments. In just four weeks he went to Miami Beach twice, New York City twice, and to three separate summer camps. I missed him and it was hard not having him around but I remembered how he said he needed to focus on his career and I tried not to nag.

It was hard not to nag though. With him gone, all the housework fell on me. We rent a 19th century manor, and its upkeep really does need two people. Doing all the chores plus running my business started to really drain me. Even when he was home, he forgot to banish the ghosts (my chore is to kill all invading humans, and his chore is to banish their ghosts) and he never took out the trash. I think he cleaned blood off the dungeon walls once, but then I had to basically redo it because he missed a lot of spots.

But still, I didn’t say anything because he was doing really well at work and I didn’t want to ruin that for him. Even when Humans started breaking in every week, I didn’t complain even though it interrupted my work day.

Last month though, I did ask him if we could move somewhere that needed less maintenance. There were just way too many Humans breaking in and I didn’t have the time to deal with them anymore. Even if I don’t do all the theatrics I used to as a Cryptid, killing humans through fear still takes a lot of time. He asked me if I didn’t appreciate the free meat, and I said I would appreciate it more if I wasn’t the only butchering it.

He said he didn’t want to move because he was really close to getting promoted to regional Nightmare and he didn’t want to take time off work to move. I was so surprised that I couldn’t hide how surprised I was. He saw and got offended. He asked if I still didn’t believe in him. I said that I did, but it was a huge jump to go from an 8% kill rate to getting promoted.

He got even more mad at me for bringing up his stats and he said that he had nearly 80% kill rate since being put on the PIP. I asked how many humans a week he was slashing and he told me I was being too nosy and that was proof that I didn’t believe in him.

I asked him if we could at least hire a ghoul then to keep the humans out of my office and he said he didn’t want to waste the money that we should be saving for our new house. I asked him what he wanted me to do then? I had to take phone calls for my consulting business and it was really hard to stalk humans all around the house while trying to sound like a professional to my clients.

He asked me to be patient for one more month. He said if he met quota for one more month, his boss said he’d get promoted. So I said fine and let it go.

Fast forward to now, almost a full month later.

Last Friday, I attended the Eldritch Conference. For those not in the scare field, the Eldritch Conference is the most prestigious event in our industry. It’s invitation only and is a chance to network with all the big players in the field. Mothman, the Jersey Devil, Bloody Mary and Bigfoot all spoke this year and both my former company, Grudge Industries, and my boyfriend’s current company, Forgotten Summer Solutions, were invited.

I was surprised to get an invite as a solo contributor to the field. However, my consulting firm has really been doing well and I did land a seasonal contract with the Yeti Co-op which I guess is how they heard about me. Plus, I’ve been a speaker before so I think the organizers knew I would behave myself.

I was planning on telling my boyfriend that I was going, but he was out of town on a co-ed sleepover assignment. He usually doesn’t have his phone on during his assignments, so I didn’t bother calling him. I just figured it’d be nice if we ran into each other at the conference if he made it back in time.

Which brings me to what actually happened (apologies for the long post).

So everything went great for my part of the day. I got to network with a lot of individual businesses and even got to reconnect with Blood Mary who I knew back in my Cryptid days. I told her I was dating a Slasher from Forgotten Summer Solutions and invited her to come with me to check out their booth. I thought it would be fun to grab dinner with her after since I assumed if my boyfriend was there, he’d be going out with coworkers which he often does. Plus, I admit, I was showing off a little. I don’t often get the chance to brag about my Cryptid days.

She agreed and we went over to see if my boyfriend was there.

I introduced myself to the people manning the booth. My boyfriend wasn’t there, but a few Slashers recognized my name and greeted me. They were definitely in awe of Bloody Mary (she came in full uniform) and invited us to look at their displays. They had portfolios for each Slasher on the desk as a sort of preview of what their services looked like.

While Bloody Mary looked through the portfolios, I chatted with my boyfriend’s coworkers. They said they were thrilled to work with him and that, even though he had a really rough start, it was impressive how quickly he started meeting his goals. Something about how they talked about his work kind of didn’t make sense. They were talking like he was killing a dozen humans a week, but he’d told me that he was at 80% on his assignments which typically only offer about ten humans each.

I asked them about it and they said that he’d been Slashing during After Hours which is a new goal supplement program his company launched a few months ago. Basically, anyone can sign up for After Hours and the company counts human kills done in uniform as part of their quota. I asked them if this was available to them while they were on assignment and they said no, it had to be done when they had down time. I asked them how my boyfriend was part of that when he was traveling all the time and they looked confused. One of them said that my boyfriend is still getting one assignment per week and is then supplementing his kill rate with After Hours.

At that point, I was even more confused. It sounded like my boyfriend had been lying to me then, because he told me that he was getting at least two assignments a week. If he was only getting one, then where was he going when he said he was traveling?

Bloody Mary interrupted before I could say anything and asked how their Slashers did their kills. They said that every Slasher at their company is required to use a standard issue weapon (like a machete or axe) for their kills to count. They said their company doesn’t count accidents as part of their quota (like falling or heart attacks).

Bloody Mary pulled me aside and showed me the portfolio she was holding. She said that she was going to give me a chance to explain without them overhearing and showed me the book. She said that a bunch of kills in it looked Cryptid kills. And she said, specifically, it looked like the kills I made when I was a Cryptid. I took the book from her and flipped through it and she was right, they really did look like Cryptid kills. Worse, I recognized a few of the Humans from the past few weeks. They were actually my kills!

Kill stealing is a major taboo in our industry.

I told her I didn’t know anything about this. She looked really relieved at that and said that even though I wasn’t a Cryptid anymore, it would look really bad for me if I was caught helping a Slasher cheat at their job. It could affect my business which she’d only heard good things about.

I’m embarrassed to say that I tried to defend him. He’s new to our industry so I thought it might be a mistake. He might not be trying to cheat, this could be a misunderstanding.

She said she didn’t think so because a mistake would be one or two of my kills mixed in with his, not the entire book.

I counted up how many photos were in the book and, all told, of the 146 kills, at least 100 were mine. I couldn’t really say it was a mistake at that point and I was just staring at his portfolio like an idiot. Bloody Mary asked me what I was going to do because, mistake or not, this looked really bad and could damage my reputation if it got out.

At that moment, another man walked up to booth and asked us if there was a problem. I knew that if I said anything, I would be jeopardizing my boyfriend’s job, but if I didn’t say something, I was jeopardizing my business.

I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count. I said I didn’t think that they knew he was doing it, but over half of the kills in his portfolio weren’t his and I suggested they remove it from their display before another Cryptid came by and realized it.

The other man thanked me for bringing this to his attention and asked how we knew. Bloody Mary said that she knew another Cryptid’s kills and I had to tell them that I was that Cryptid, though I was retired now. He asked me if I knew my boyfriend was doing this, and I told him no.

I told him I really didn’t want to get my boyfriend in trouble and suggested that maybe he didn’t know those kills didn’t belong to him because they happened in our house. I was grasping at straws and Blood Mary even looked sad for me. His coworkers looked skeptical but tentatively agreed. The man – who turned out to my boyfriend’s boss – said that they would investigate this thoroughly and apologized personally for his employee’s misconduct.

I was spiraling at that point so I thanked him and said I wasn’t mad, I was just looking out for both of our reputations. He promised to keep it between us and I agreed.

Then I apologized to Bloody Mary because I didn’t feel like eating dinner anymore. She said she understood and wished me well.

I went home and did a quick perimeter search of the property. Sure enough, there were human summoning stones ALL OVER the yard. Which means my boyfriend was intentionally luring humans to our house to get me to kill them so he could take credit. It wasn’t a mistake at all.

My boyfriend came home later that night in his work clothes. As soon he got inside he started yelling. He said he was suspended without pay and that all his hard work was for nothing.

I said I knew he’d been stealing my kills and he almost ruined my reputation. He said they still counted as his kills because he did all the work of luring the humans to our house.

I told him that wasn’t how it worked and he knew it. He said it was the same as setting a trap and I was taking this too seriously. I told him that, as a Slasher, he has to use a weapon to get his kills, not me. He said I was basically the same thing since I had such a high kill rate. I asked him if he was calling me an object.

(My parents exploited me by selling me as a haunted doll through a lot of my childhood and he knows I’m sensitive to being called an object.)

He backpedaled at that point and asked if I didn’t want to buy a house together. He said he was doing it for us and I should’ve understood and not said anything. I told him that when I was a Cryptid I had my pride and would’ve never done this.

He said I needed to tell his boss that he was the one who made all those kills. I said it wasn’t me who recognized them as Cryptid kills and now his boss knew too. He accused me of thinking I’m better than him because I have telekinetic powers and can move through shadows and can possess people, while he’s basically a human himself. I told him of course not and that I worked hard for those powers unlike him.

He got really mad at that and actually charged at me with his machete raised. I don’t think he was going to actually hit me, but I reacted like he was. It was all instinct. I disarmed him and I swear I heard a crack when I grabbed his wrist. I shoved him into the wall.

 He crumpled to the floor and started crying. He said sorry and sort of curled up around his wrist. He said he didn’t ever feel like he was enough for me and he didn’t even know why I was still with him. He called himself a bunch of names and said I would be better off without him.

I sort of awkwardly stood there for a minute. On one hand I wanted to assure him that he was enough and that I loved him, but, on the other, I wasn’t sure I could forgive him. He nearly ruined my reputation, and he embarrassed me in front of Bloody Mary. Plus, I still didn't know where he’d been going all those times he said he was on a business trip and apparently wasn’t.

So I ended up not saying anything. I went to our room and started packing a bag. He followed me. He was still crying as he begged me not to go. He said he would own up to his kill steals at work and he would make it right. He pleaded for me not to leave him and that he would give up slashing.

I told him I needed space to think. He tried to grab me, but I shadow walked out of the house. I heard him screaming from outside and I hurriedly drove away.

Now I’m at my friend’s house and I told her everything. She agreed I did the right thing walking away from him, but when I asked her what I should do she hesitated. She said that my boyfriend wasn’t right to kill steal but, as a fellow Slasher, she understood what he was going through. She said I wouldn’t understand the pressure to meet quota because I was always surpassing mine when I was in the field. She said that a Cryptid could never understand a Slasher.

She also said that nobody would have found out about his kills if I hadn’t brought them to his boss’ attention. She said the only time kills are on display like that is at the Eldritch Conference and by the next one, he’d have had kills of his own. She thinks that if I’d just confronted him at home, he wouldn’t be on suspension.

So now I’m worried that I overreacted when I told my boyfriend’s coworkers that he was lying about his body count.

AITA?

----

Thanks for reading! Several amazing supernatural citizens (aka my Patrons) gave great advice to our poor OP over on my Patreon! Please go check them out here (X)

(I will definitely be posting some of them here in the near future!)

My next supernatural AITA is already up to my patrons!

It's called "AITA for divorcing my vampire husband because he lied about his human job?"

Patrons get to see many of my stories a week ahead! If that interests you please check me out here (X)!

[retiredteabag]

The soul does not lie

synopsis: Sukuna allows tedious nonsense when he can feel your soul's cravings.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Though he hardly mentions it, Sukuna can, in fact, feel your soul in a way that a normal sorcerer never could. Knowing this helps to make sense of the fact that the man can always tell when you are distressed, even when you try to hide it.

You had discovered this little ability of his when he had come stomping in from the gardens one day while you watched unblinkingly at a horror film.

With your eyes only visible through the slots of your fingers you looked up to see him standing, arms crossed, in the entry way of his chambers.

"What is it that brings you fear?" He had thundered.

"W-what... no, nothing, I'm just watching a movie, see?" You flipped your phone around for the man too see but he did not take his eyes off your form.

"I do not repeat myself." His four eyes were squinted and his eyebrows arched in a dangerously attractive way.

"Kuna' it's a horror movie, that's all, I'm not really scared." You finally announced to the rolling of four red eyes.

"Your soul states otherwise." He quipped before drawing close to try and see what had your soul trembling so fearfully. He was disappointed, to say the least when he was unable to identify what was so "horrific" about your film.

And that marked the moment you realized that Sukuna was able to feel you in a way you could not understand.

Sukuna was NOT a gentleman, he was far, far from it. He loved to bring terror to the masses, very rarely did he allow another beings to so much as speak in his presence. He did, however, have "soft spots" for creatures that sparked his interest, and those remarkably loyal.

Even so, he did not make efforts to calm your nerves when you were anxious. He did not feel the slightest effect in his chest when your sorrow was palpable. He would certainly not allow for time to be wasted on your souls quivering's. That-was none of his concern.

It was not as if he was taking any actions when he allowed your pathetic "cuddling" nonsense when he felt the pangs of misery that surrounded your essence.

You had tried to hold him in the past but he did not see the use in wrapping oneself around another. Even so, he found himself pretending to sleep (even though he did not need it) when he sensed your desperation for his touch.

Likewise, when he could feel the shaky and childish excitement that bled from your soul when you were happy, he could not seem to help but humor you.

As mentioned, Sukuna does not require sleep like your helpless human form. Still, it was not uncommon for the king of curses to close his eyes, relaxing in his ultimate power. Be it when he bathes, when he is lounging on his palace's engawa, when he is seated on his throne, or even when he reclines himself along his chamber's bed.

Sukuna had his eyes closed one evening, feeling his power splay out from his body, grasping at the forms of everyone within his domain. When he sensed your spirit, quickly approaching his chambers.

He made the decision then to seem uninterested when you clambered through the doors.

He could hear the switch in your step as you drew in a breath, clearly forgetting what you had wished to say at the sudden image before you.

The bloodthirsty man had never looked more like a jungle cat, lying atop his bed in such a lazy fashion. He felt the exact moment your soul leapt. He knew you had covered your mouth as your heavy breathing had dulled despite your heartbeat climbing to unusual heights.

He knew of your antics. Having felt you chew on each of his biceps several times. You had that same giddiness now. It was simply that he did not care to move that he kept his eyes closed. Pretending not to notice as you took out your phone, your feet dancing around him. He'll allow you to take your ridiculous photos, he's too... relaxed... to... take issue with your senseless mischief.

He could tell you had finished when he heard you pocket your phone once more, your hands covering your beating heart, you leaned down, holding your breath. The king of curses had to keep himself from squishing his face in ....disgust.... as you planted a chaste kiss in the space between his lower eye and his upper lip.

"You're too precious." You quietly whisper. Brushing your hand softly through his hair. And Sukuna rolled his eyes behind his lids.

Such foolishness he has never seen. Even so- he will allow it.

[neverendingford]

.

[idiopathicsmile]

School Gymnastics: A Tragicomedy

So one day when we were in third grade, our P.E. teacher divided us into girls and boys. (I don’t remember what the boys had to do. Wrestling? Tackle football? I don’t know, probably not at age nine, but that’s not the point. Gladiatorial combat? I still don’t really understand kids’ sports.)

What matters for this story is that all the girls had to do gymnastics. Now—and I suspect this won’t surprise you if you know literally anything about me—I was always terrible at any form of school athletics. I am intensely, almost impressively uncoordinated. This doesn’t affect my life much at 36, but it was often a miserable way to be a kid. The only playground game I liked was playing pretend, because when you are playing pretend, you don’t have a bunch of people ostensibly on your side screaming in your ear, “Pretend faster! Pretend over there! Pretend with greater accuracy!”

Anyway, gymnastics and my clumsy, doughy little body. I couldn’t do a cartwheel. I couldn’t do a backwards somersault. I couldn't do any of it. We had an entire unit on this business and I literally did not learn how to even safely attempt a single move besides the log roll (lie flat and roll sideways on your belly). In retrospect, this seems like maybe it was in part a teaching problem, not a me problem, but that’s actually not the point either.

The point is, at the end of the unit, we were told to divide ourselves into little teams and choreograph a group gymnastics routine. My group, faced with my long list of limitations (more limitation than girl, really) decide my role will be to just forwards-somersault around the rest of the group as they do their moves. (This is itself kind of embarrassing but trust me, it is but the appetizer.) My friend Ashley has the Lion King soundtrack and we all agree that it is a great choice. The movie has only come out a couple of years earlier, and it of course features some funny, peppy options. 'Hakuna Matata'? 'I Just Can't Wait to Be King'? It's all coming together.

Carried on a wave of youthful enthusiasm, none of us even think to double-check which track Ashley has picked. Foreshadowing!

So the day of the performance comes. Another group goes right before us. They had picked “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls, which was a huge hit at the time. I mean, it still is because it’s a classic, but then it was big and new. They step onto the mat and immediately begin to do choreographed dance moves, which they have worked into their routine. We had not thought of this. Oops. Dance moves, of course! So they incorporate the necessary gymnastics, it goes over really well, the energy is high, and now it’s my group’s turn.

I take my place at the edge of the mat, the mat we are required to stay on for the length of the piece. Ashley cues up the track she’d chosen.

A song starts up. Instantly, I recognize it from the movie. It is the very slow instrumental music that plays when Simba realizes his dad is dead.

‘Well, this is not optimal,’ I think. I've been on this planet for nine years; I can see that much. But it’s too late to change the track, and so I tell myself, ‘It’s okay. I’m a performer. I can sell this.’ I put on an extremely solemn face and begin to execute a series of the world’s saddest somersaults.

Friends, when I say “sad” I mean it, in every possible sense of the word. Picture a nine year old with the gravest possible affect, determinedly doing somersaults to the slowest, most serious music she can imagine, in a careful ring around her friends who have actually learned any gymnastics whatsoever. Okay, now as the music starts to pick up and get more hopeful, imagine she gets real dizzy and in front of everyone, she rolls all the way directly off the mat, careening dangerously towards the assembled students.

Somehow, I roll myself back onto the mat, we survive what feels like hours of humiliation, we stagger away, and I blessedly avoid adding “puking my guts out in front of all of my peers” to my very short list of gymnastics tricks.

Later, I asked Ashley what in the world possessed her to choose that song.

“It didn’t have any words,” she said.

(There was absolutely no rule against using songs that had lyrics.)

Anyway, that’s why being an adult is better than being a kid.

I may have to do laundry and make my own dinner and wrestle with more complex existential angst, but you know what I haven’t been asked to do in like 26 years? Somersault for three minutes straight to the musical shorthand for “this cartoon lion cub has no choice but to process the weight of unimaginable grief for his dead dad.” And you know what? If I live another 50 years, I can be pretty confident nobody will ask me to do it then, either.