#she looks emaciated

[mechanicalhandsyaoi]

like someone said I feel iron deficient just looking at her

very annoying that all of the press around ariana grande's emaciated look is all faux feminist "we have got to stop commenting on women's bodies!" crap like it's just wild it's 2024 after a decade of lipservice to quote unquote body positivity that got old the moment the skinny drug dropped so now we have to sit around and pretend like we don't notice that most of the women on screen are barely there

[arlo-venn]

Without further ado, this funny looking little debbil creature’s breed mix is, in this order:

- American Pit Bull Terrier

- Border Collie (!!!)

- Golden Retriever

- Pomeranian (lol!)

- American Eskimo Dog

- Boxer

- and some “super mutt”

Her behavior really reflects the first two the most— her training style is pretty similar to Arlo’s and she is definitely prone to bored border collie syndrome.

[derpinette]

i have a physiognomy that is so aching for a cigarette

[yellows-secret-blog]

I just remembered something about my main project that's one more item to the list of "Reasons I Maybe Should Not Write This Story"

The * are gonna go crazy after Hunter and his Hot-Girlfriend-Childhood-Friend-Traitor-Enemy-Crush-Doctor Ari

They are def going to say he is child coded and should not have someone be in love with him even though they are the same age

Omg the power imbalance they have is gonna kill them too

A

But it's okay Im not even actively writing it

[gh-0-stcup]

One thing that's so odd to me about the Eugenia Cooney thing is how there's still people who think she's in denial about her ED.

She knows. She was in a treatment program, she mentioned in it Shane's "documentary". The people who are wondering what she's saying to convince doctors (and the recent crisis team) that she's fine kind of boggle my mind.

She just tells them the truth. That she has an ED and either that she's trying to work on it by herself or that she does not want to get better. It depends on where you live, but very often medical professionals aren't going to bother putting limited resources towards someone who does not want the help.

She can say, "Yes, I'm anorexic. Yes, I know I could die. No, I don't think going somewhere would help but thank you for the resources." Whether they decide that's grounds for commitment or not depends on the laws of her state and the personal judgement of those evaluating her.

Leaving her to die and moving on to the people who are in her same physical state but begging for help isn't exactly a wild decision.

[ionlycareaboutyou]

in hindsight developing disordered eating habits was probably a bad decision. groundbreaking discovery i know

[saviourkingslut]

not to yuck on yum but my god. the people saying "Alear is chubby" or "Etie is ripped" have literally never played any other FE game. i know no one cares about Brom or Meg from the Tellius games because they're not immediately conventionally attractive and they're from slightly older games but there have been straight up chubby characters in FE before. and one look at something as early as Fates has Rinkah, Charlotte, and even Effie for either visibly ripped women or women that are otherwise buff as hell. hell you can argue even 3H has Catherine as a woman who would be realistically shredded from all the training she does all the time.

meanwhile Alear is a stick and Etie looks like a 12 year old with abs. literally what are these people even talking about lmao.

people will see tits and call a character chubby even though they clearly weigh 50 kg tops. oh but then when there's actually chubby characters in a game people turn around and forget abt them bc that's not the kind of "chubby" (quotation marks bc the first kind of chubby, i.e. alear's kind, isn't even chubby in the first place) that's sexy and attractive and you never hear from those characters again lmao. these people don't like chub they like tits and curvy hips and thighs but god forbid if that's not combined with an hourglass figure too

as for the muscles... the whole spiel with etie is dumb as hell bc she looks like a reed, but honestly even with characters such as charlotte or hilda it's like... sure, the game says that she's buff, but brother the art does not look it. even with armour-wearing characters it's often clear they're just thin underneath (kjelle...effie less so in fates art itself but she got very unlucky in feh art). like, idk, for me it's not a simple "oh this character is wearing armour, that shows she's buff" i would like to SEE it. where are the muscles? would love for fe to tell me a character is buff and then actually let them have muscles (like rinkah!). like intsys you and i both know ike and his arms exists it genuinely cannot be difficult for you to draw some muscles on a woman

[lostsoulau-ask]

Test Gjinka (i think its caled like that) for Shard & Buddy

[nashvillehotchicken]

that barbie x oppenhiemer wlw post has caused me to come to the startling realization that the guy from peaky blinders looks like a stone butch lesbian

[waitingforminjae]

also just looking at that one ive girl stresses me out so bad let her eat something goddammit

[glorioustidalwavedefendor]

These clothes that were worn to death and destroyed from decades of use were thrown away.

And even if not

-> Costume collections do have clothe like that

They are not put on display

And not just becasue they are to fragile

But also becasue they are not tiny and pretty and doll like, so that's not what the visitors want to see so that's not what is put on display

That's why you get dresses like this

Who are pretty

Pettit

And not to fragile to be put on display

While there are still a lot of "uggly" (read not tiny) extant garments out there that can be bought at sensible prices

Abby Cox has a few examples

How do we break it to boomers with actual brain damage and nostalgic brainrot, and the 'tradwife' thirsting Andrew Tate fans that bodyfat, average attire, an overall lack of professional haircare or makeup, and non-conventionally attractive women existed and represented the vast majority of women across all of history?

And that, yes, in fact, their belief that "all women were hot skinny super models" in x timeframe is because they keep posting images of fashion models, actresses, idealized pinup art, and creepshots of actual teenage girls instead of middle aged, elderly and ordinary women from whatever era. Man, history sure was an insane person's exact perfect paradise consisting solely of people specifically they were attracted to--when filtered through a cherry picked lens of solely famous glamor girls instead of just women workers, family photos and life events taking place anywhere outside of Hollywood.

It really does irk me that one day people will assume all of the 21st century consisted of women who looked like whichever three actresses are most remembered one day and a few odd instagram filtered images--because already, a massive wealth of evidence already exists to the contrary for all of prior history and people are still somehow convinced everyone on Earth was a size zero with perfect hair and makeup for all of human history. That's just not how anything works. It's not how women work. It's not how humans work.

Another fun fact, the majority of surviving articles of clothing from eons ago were extremely petite, extremely glamorous, and unfathomably tiny. You know why? Because they ..weren't worn. This is a well known example of survivors bias in the fashion industry. Expensive gowns and teeny martini dresses were usually only worn once or twice, if not solely worn by manikins in high end stores. Most people kept a consistent and small wardrobe for their entire lives. New clothes were rare, often custom fit or taylored by family at home, or hand-me downs from sibling to sibling. These clothes that were worn to death and destroyed from decades of use were thrown away. They didn't survive to the modern era because they were overly worn, large, and unglamorous.

Think of it this way, you might save your prom dress or your wedding dress but you're not saving the teeshirt with spaghetti stains on it for future generations to see. Why would you? Those are the clothes that don't survive.

[stealingyourbones]

"This better get on the front page" Lois mutters under her breath. She's currently hiding in a crate that's being transported into a secretive "government" facility that calls themselves the GIW. No official data has been released as to what that acronym stands for. A new facility of theirs opened up in Metropolis and Lois is determined to find out what this organization is doing behind closed doors. From the rumors she's heard it sounds like it's Project Stargate level of crazy. This might get her another Pulitzer Prize.

Lois feels the truck holding her, and many many pallets of lead lined crates, pull to a stop. After that it's a blur of muffled words spoken by GIW employees as they unload the truck. Her crate gets picked up by a forklift and moved somewhere deep into the facility. Perfect.

After ten agonizing minutes, the forklift stops and lowers the crate into an unknown room and drives away.

Lois waits.

She has a thermal reader to detect if anyone is inside the room with her that (thank you Bruce) works through two inches of steel and lead.

The only thing she saw that was noticeable was an oddly large cold spot in an adjacent room.

Well it's now or never.

Lois moves cautiously, slowly opening the lid of the crate from underneath just enough to crawl herself through and then slowly put the lid back, careful to not make a sound.

She turns away from the crate and goes to investigate that cold spot.

Past a door, through a short hallway, and inside a high security cell, Lois saw the source of the temperature anomaly.

It's a boy. A boy no older than her son… A boy who was emaciated, collared, handcuffed, and covered in gauze.

A boy who looked near identical to her son's best friend, Damian.

[leviathanspain]

Hey could you write a Finnick odair / reader where snow forces them to pretend to date like he did with katniss and peeta? The whole convince him and get married as a distraction thing? Thanks :)

the pretender

finnick odair x reader

synopsis: being reaped from the victor’s pool changed your life in more ways than you imagined

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you were his favorite girl.

girl. you were a girl when you had been reaped, a girl when your feet stepped off the platform, more shocked that you didn’t immediately blow up into bits. a girl when you had committed your first kill. you remembered the sound of your knife slicing into human flesh for the first time. the ringing in your ears had become permanent after you had been too close to the explosion that had killed half of the tributes. an explosion that you had accidentally caused.

your rebellious spirit was fun at first, for the capital to laugh and delight in, until you stopped using the scripts that they had written for you, and tried to destroy the idea of the girl in their minds.

snow subdued you, tried to barter your family’s life with cooperation. unbeknownst to him, you hadn’t seen your family in years since they had abandoned you, for fighting against your father’s abuse.

“kill them. do whatever you want to them. just leave me alone.” your own words haunted you since the day snow had presented evidence of their murders. you didn’t dare flinch in his presence, holding a strong facade that you didn’t care, that they were beneath you.

as he left, irritated at your refusal to comply, letting ideas stir in his head with what to do with you, you broke down. tears shed as you realized that they were gone because of you, because you couldn’t let your anger go.

but snow liked you, he must’ve had a reason to keep you around for so long, and until just a few days ago, you hadn’t known why.

you breathed deeply as you heard your name called. it was deja vu, and suddenly you were back to the thirteen year old girl, who was so emaciated and starved that when her name was called, she believed she was hallucinating.

you looked crudely into the screen, not offering any smiles or sign of pride that you had been reaped, all over again.

“y/n l/n.” hearing your full name made you turn around immediately. you were slightly blinded by his blonde hair and pearly white smile.

“finnick odair.” you realized who the man was, quicker than you’d admit. the last time you had seen him was at a ridiculous capital party that snow had forced you to attend. finnick had been leaned against a wall, with two capital sluts hanging onto his shoulders, whispering in his ears simultaneously.

he smiled, not surprised that you didn’t say anything else besides his name. you had that tendency about you, to shoot down any attempt at conversation. even going as far to avoid it all together. “i’m glad you haven’t tried to run away, not after i had caught you eyes and you dashed off at that party. how long ago was that? three,” his speech hung onto the words, “four?”

“five months. it’s been five months, finnick.” you remembered his gaze, and remembered how your feet made you run at the sight. you had heard stories about finnick, and you weren’t exactly planning on ever talking to him.

“that’s right.” he smiled, “i hope you’ve been well since then. it was nice seeing you in something other than a bloody shirt.” his gaze suddenly seemed very far away, as if he was remembering exactly what you wore that night.

you shrugged, deciding to change topics, “everyone else is polishing their weapons,” you heard a guttural war cry, and saw another tribute lunge at a partner, “and methods.” finnick turned to the source of the cry and laughed slightly, “oh yeah? what’s your choice of weapon, again?”

“knives. anything long and sharp.” you always had an affinity for knives. it was second nature to you, an art of your district. your mind drifted away slightly to the array of knives that you had collected during your games. every tribute that you had slaughtered had a knife, and you collected them as a token. by the end, you had 23 knives, all representing a kill.

it had been upsetting when you went on your victory tour, to see the look on their family’s faces, but you had blurred out their emotions, and at the height of your submission to snow, had given out the same apathetic speech to every district.

finnick watched as your mind drifted back to reality. wherever you had gone for the better half of a minute, was a place finnick spent every waking moment, running away from.

he grabbed your shoulder, squeezing it slightly as he looked into your eyes, whispering your name, “hey, hey.” you focused on his eyes, gaze shifting to his mouth as they shaped the syllables of your name. you swallowed thickly, “im sorry-i…” you pulled away, his hand falling free of your shoulder. finnick watched as you exited the training room, your hands balled up into fists as you disappeared through the doorway.

“absolutely not.” you had spent your childhood under the thumb of one man, and you had barely made it out from under snow’s. this was only another way to get you under it once more.

finnick had his head bowed, having listened to snow’s pitch to make the two of you a couple. he needed something to distract the capital citizens from peeta and katniss, who everyone knew, was just a thorn in snow’s side.

“my dear, i really don’t think you have a choice in the matter.” snow’s eyes narrowed at you and you sighed, “what else is there left for you to do? im already being marched to my death, again, just speed the process up. poison me like you do the rest.” you took a good jab at one of the many secrets you had obtained, living in his cage.

snow laughed, “i would’ve done that a long time ago, y/n.”

just as you were beginning to argue again, finnick looked up, eyes catching yours. he held your gaze for a minute, blinking his wet eyes at you. there was something that was telling you that this wasn’t just about you.

finnick.

oh how could you forget finnick.

there was something clearly at stake for him too, otherwise why had he remained silent this entire time?

compliance was something he had to get used to, also under snow’s control.

“okay, fine.” you felt yourself swallow bile, “i’ll do it.” you looked at finnick, your future husband, and the reason why you were even agreeing.

“why did you do it?” his voice cracked, a raw noise as he looked over at you. you had been silent the whole time since leaving the meeting with snow. you shuddered with the strong winds, having been sat out on the stoop of the building, housing all the reaped former victors.

you looked at finnick, having caught his gaze, holding it for a moment, “my entire life i’ve been selfish, and i guess i realized that it isn’t always about putting myself first.” you knew the stories, heard the rumors. snow had barely played with the idea, making you like finnick, but you had always refused. there was nothing left for him to leverage, and so it never went anywhere.

but this, pairing the two of you was nothing short of cruel. finnick who has everything to lose, with you, who he probably didn’t expect to agree.

finnick hitched a breath, understanding what you weren’t saying. “thank you.” he breathed, “and im sorry.”

you stood up suddenly, nodding as you turned towards the entrance, “just-“ you cut yourself off, waving a hand as you continued inside.

he made the announcement. finnick had decided that with the pull he has on the capital, that he would be the one to do it. especially since he was so beloved, the attention from it was to challenge katniss and peeta’s.

you had agreed to play the part, and now you had to act like it.

there was loud cheering and applause from the crowd, and you were pushed out onto the stage, more cheers erupting as finnick stood up to meet you halfway. you kissed his cheek, grabbing his hand tightly as you two fluttered across the stage.

caesar flickerman was already standing there with a bright, capitol smile. “this is your lovely bride. we hear the honeymoon is the arena?” he looked at finnick who tipped his head back for a laugh, but didn’t answer outright.

you gave a soft laugh, “we just loved each other so much, we couldn’t wait.”

caesar looked at you, as if remembering who you were exactly, “wow.” he seemed truly amazed, perhaps even shocked.

finnick noticed the heaviness in the interview and turned his head at caesar, trying to keep the attention on the union rather than the individuals.

he grabbed your hand suddenly, clutching it tightly. as he held it for the rest of the interview, you staring at the faces in the crowd, more love struck than you, you wondered if he was trying to comfort you or himself.

“finnick.” you looked around behind you, only seeing peeta in front of you. the first few days in the arena had been a blur. you had stuck by close with finnick, who made it his mission to stay close to katniss. there was something he wasn’t telling you, but you didn’t once doubt him.

“finnick?” you whipped your head around and couldn’t find him. you were always in front of him, so he could remain in his eye line at all times. except you had failed to make sure he was in yours.

your ears started ringing as the panic set in. you scanned the trees and couldn’t find any sign of him or katniss, realizing this as peeta shared your same panicked look. your throat felt tight as you screamed his name, “finnick!” peeta suddenly took off, feet blazing towards more greenery. you had no choice but to follow, knowing finnick would’ve had you stick with peeta.

as you barely caught up to peeta, you saw him hit the floor as you ran up. whatever he had bounced off of was holding katniss and finnick back.

you looked at finnick, unable to catch his eyes as he looked up frantically. there was something you were missing, there were just bir-

“jabberjays.” peeta groaned out, “they can’t hear us, but they hear our screams.” he swallowed thickly, resting near the force field. katniss was knelt down at the edge, eyes tightly shut. you stared at finnick, at a loss for words. the panic in his face looked so real, you wondered who he was hearing.

you tore your eyes away, watching him suffer was not something you had signed up for. you felt defeated, unable to do anything as you and peeta sat like sitting ducks, waiting this torture out.

you hadn’t talked to him since the jabberjays. peeta had comforted katniss, in any way she’d let him. but they were different, you and finnick were different.

yes, you were married, he was your husband. but the issue was, you hadn’t much time to even begin to share intimate details, let alone have a good conversation. this was what snow wanted, an empty marriage to stir up all the attention.

except you knew your performance was failing. the audience could see right through you.

“hey.” finnick had snuck up on you. you had stayed a few feet away from him and the others, unsure how to handle it all. but it seems like finnick was trying to make it work. but it should be the other way around.

“finnick.” you breathed a sigh of relief unintentionally, hoping he didn’t catch on, you watched as he sat down on the sand beside you. he grabbed your hand, and for a moment you thought it to be genuine, until he raised an eyebrow.

right.

“i’m so sorry.” your voice hitched, and finnick steadied his gaze, “seeing you like that-“ you faked a choked sob, “i just couldn’t do it. i couldn’t look at you and see-“ you cut yourself off, throwing your head in your hands.

snow had to be happy that you were selling yourself off to protect finnick. but beside that heart to heart you had with him in the beginning, you had nothing else to go off of.

“i heard you.” finnick’s voice cracked, “you were screaming, these terrible, horrible screams.” he shook his head, as if he were hearing them all over again, making you realize that he was telling the truth. “and it wouldn’t stop.” he breathed. his breathing got harder and you found yourself kissing him to make him stop. finnick panted into the kiss, as if you had grounded him. you pulled back, catching his eye as you looked away.

your hand that he had been holding gripped his harder. you looked out into the water, watching as it’s dangerous waters moved, unsure on how you would survive this.

with or without him.

[sescoups]

favorite coworker - choi vernon

masterlist

word count: ~5.3k (i'm so sorry)

summary: vernon is your favorite. he just gets you. of course you can't resist him - not that you would ever want to.

a/n: this is definitely NOT proofread, and i'm sorry. idk i just have the fattest crush on vernon, honestly i can't be held accountable

18+, MDNI!!! warnings under the cut <3

warnings: oral (m. receiving), making out, creepy old man (he doesn't do anything, he's just a creep), mention of vomit, lmk if i missed anything! <3

“Wait so hang on, you mean to tell me you’ve never what..? Gone down on a guy?”

“Oh yell it out, why don’t you,” you groan, smacking your forehead into the counter. Thank fuck you just cleaned it.

Vernon is your coworker at the record store in the middle of the city. He’s super chill, does what he’s supposed to but doesn’t stress out or get pissy if you’re having a bad day and work slowly. He’s great. He’s just… a bit unaware of his surroundings, a lot of the time. You’re lucky only two people are in the store at the moment, or you would have simply passed away.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I just kinda can’t believe it? I mean, you’ve had sex for sure, right?”

“Yes, Vernon.” You roll your eyes and glare at an old man who is shamelessly looking you up and down. “I’ve had sex before. Just not a lot, I guess. And why is it so hard to believe?”

Had he been looking at your face, your raised eyebrow might have tipped him off to the fact that he should drop the topic and back off. Unfortunately, in typical Vernon fashion, he was doodling nonsense on a notepad, so he missed it completely.

“Well I mean, you’re hot,” he said before finally looking up at you. He started tapping his pen against the counter, leaning his weight on one hand against the counter. “You’re also pretty open about your life in general, so I just figured two plus two equals one, you know.”

“What the fu- Vernon. Think about what you just said.”

“Oh fuck. Yeah I deserved to fail math in high school.”

You burst into laughter at his words. This is exactly why you love Vernon, and why he’s your favorite coworker. You’re laughing so hard you barely manage to greet the new customer who just entered the store. Your coworker is smiling, satisfied with his ability to make you laugh.

The old man who is still eyeing you, now with extra focus on your boobs, comes up to the register just as you manage to sober up from your laughing fit. You clear your throat and turn to face him, giving him a tiny smile in the spirit of customer service. Apparently a mistake.

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” he starts, running his tongue over his front teeth in what you suspect is supposed to be a seduction attempt. “Would you mind maybe showing me some of the records you have in the back?”

The smile leaves your face immediately, and you’re about to absolutely emaciate him when Vernon cuts in to make sure you do not lose your job over some smarmy geezer.

“She cannot, sir. It’s store policy. Soz.”

You hold your snort in, but barely. The old man huffs and glares at the man next to you, crossing his arms over his chest. Honestly, you’re curious at this point. You’ve never seen Vernon handle confrontation - again, very chill dude - but you also know he is very protective over his friends.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the old man says with an eye roll. “I was talking to the pretty young lady.”

His smile sends a shiver down your spine, and you take a deep breath. The old man watches your boobs rise and fall. Seriously, fuck this guy. You force the customer service smile back on your face because you actually really like and need this job, and decide this sack of shit isn’t worth it.

“He’s right, sir. It’s against store policy, and I’m currently on register duty. If there is a specific record you wish to see, we can look it up in the system.”

“I’ll keep looking for a while… in case you change your mind.”

The way he winks at you makes your blood boil, and it’s a wonder your teeth don’t crack from the pressure of your jaw. The man walks away, and so does Vernon. He can’t really kick the guy out unless he does something physical, so you don’t know what he’s trying to do. Soon, though, your confusion melts into amusement and glee as you watch your coworker follow the man around the store, loudly dissing his music taste whenever he picks up a record. He keeps walking just a little bit too close for comfort, and after about three minutes, the man gives up.

You take huge pleasure in the way the man skulks out, hands in his pockets and back hunched over as if he’s trying to get away from something - or someone. Returning to the register, Vernon grins to himself and resumes his doodling without a word. You shake your head in amazement before going to help the other two customers in the store.

The next time you’re working with Vernon, you have the closing shift. Usually only one person is supposed to stay back after closing and clean up, but you just received a large shipment of vinyls that need to be sorted and placed into protective sleeves, so the two of you are working overtime together.

It’s a pretty slow shift, and the two of you pass the time by playing music for one another and guessing the artist and the title. You’re much better at it than he is, but only because you’re good at memorizing things; he has a far more varied music taste than you, and would easily have won had he remembered more than two song names and five artists. As per the terms of the game, the loser has to go out to get the dinner you preordered from a restaurant down the street. It’s not far, but it’s raining, so you’re glad to be exempt.

While your colleague is gone, you close out the register and sweep the floor so you only have the vinyl sorting left after you’ve eaten. The break room smells like wet dog and Doritos, so you bring two chairs out together with the foldable table that you’re going to use to sort the vinyls. Since no one is in the store anyway, you can people watch through the windows while you eat.

Vernon comes back in just as you finish setting up, soaking wet from the pouring rain. You coo at him when he shivers, and he shoots you a playful glare. He ends up holding his glare for all of two seconds before a wide smile stretches across his face.

“I left an extra shirt here at some point, do you think it smells like teenage boy?”

You escape the break room with two plates and some utensils in hand, laughing at his question and probably unfortunate fate.

“Because of the proximity to the break room? Probably. That shit is unavoidable.”

He grimaces before taking his jacket off, hanging it on a hook behind the register. He disappears to change while you plate the food, humming to yourself. You try not to think about how he’s probably half naked right now, and turn your attention to the fact that he most likely will smell atrocious to keep your head on straight.

You do love Vernon. He’s a great coworker, obviously, and he’s a great friend too, but that’s not really the full extent of it. You’ve been battling your crush on him for months now, because it’s pretty clear that he isn’t interested in you. Besides, if you ever did date, things would get awkward at work if you broke up. No, he is one of those people who should stay firmly at arm’s length. Unfortunately.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud bang, making you jump a good foot in the air.

“What the fuck, Nonnie?”

“Sorry,” he grimaces, checking that the door he managed to fling directly into the wall hadn’t done any damage. “I tripped.”

“Only you, Vern,” you sigh. “Well, food is ready to go. Let’s eat!”

The meal, consisting of some kimchi jjigae, rice and side salad, passes by in relative silence. You occasionally hum in content, and Vernon often slurps his jjigae really loudly which prompts you to giggle. He always looks glad to have amused you, and you need to look away often in order to control your emotions.

“Dude,” he groans after his third serving, “I’m so fucking full.”

“I’m not the one who got an order for five people, genius,” you groan back, your own stomach feeling like a water balloon. “So good though.”

“So good,” he nods earnestly.

You can’t stand to look at him like this; you need something to do with your hands. So you stand up and stretch, which actually does help the food settle in your stomach a bit. Your hair, tied in a bun to avoid getting any food in it, comes down to release some of the pressure on your scalp, and then you feel ready to get started.

“Take all the time you need, man, but I’m gonna start on the first box. I want to get home before dawn, if I can.”

He flashes you a thumbs up and slumps against the table to enter into a food coma. You scoff at him and shake your head before clearing the dishes from the table. Thank God you have a dishwasher in the break room.

You bring out the first box and start sorting it, referencing the list you have as you go to take inventory. It’s repetitive work, but it’s kind of soothing, too. You do your best to make the plastic of the vinyl coverings crinkle as little as possible, wanting Vernon to rest for as long as he needs to. Three servings of kimchi jjigae would make anyone drowsy.

The first sign that he is still alive comes ten minutes later when he starts drumming a random rhythm on the table. You snort when you recognize the rhythm, pausing with a vinyl halfway into its covering.

“You can’t drum the melody to Dun Dun Dance, Vernon.”

“I can do whatever I want,” he protests weakly, cheek still pressed firmly against the table surface. “But nicely done. What about this one?” He drums out another rhythm, and now that you know it’s a melody he’s following, you recognize it quicker.

“That’s Candy by H.O.T.”

“Nice.”

“You gonna work or rest, bud?”

Vernon whines at your words and rolls his head to rest his forehead against the table instead. You wait patiently as he gathers the strength to sit up properly and kick a box of vinyls over to him when he seems more alive.

“Life isn’t fair,” he pouts, “I just did so much work eating all that food, and now I gotta do more?”

“It’s like that,” you agree absentmindedly, marking off a stack of vinyls on your list. “Can you turn on some music, please? The silence is creepy.”

He nods and connects his phone to the store speakers, choosing the playlist the two of you created together on a similar night of overtime. After that, the two of you slip into a rhythm together, unpacking vinyls, checking the list, and then putting them into a protective sleeve. It’s mostly silent aside from the music, and sometimes Vernon drums along to the beat on the table, but it’s comfortable. You kind of don’t mind spending a few hours like this.

When you’re two thirds through the stack of boxes, you both decide to take a break. Your saint of a colleague brews some coffee, and you hop onto the checkout counter to browse through your phone while your brain cells take a well-deserved rest.

“Bless you,” you say as you accept a mug full of coffee. “We’re making pretty good time today, eh?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, taking a sip and wincing at the scalding temperature. “We haven’t really been talking, so.”

“That jjigae really took you out, huh?”

“Oh yeah.”

You grin at him and blow gently over your coffee. It’s still too hot to drink, as evidenced by the steam rising from it, but the smell alone is kind of waking you up. Vernon grabs your attention by clearing his throat gently, and you turn to look at him. He’s fidgeting a bit with a pen left on the counter close to your thigh.

“I, uh… I wanted to say I’m sorry about that dude the other day. The creepy one. I probably should have kicked him out, but I didn’t know if I could…”

Your heart melted a little in your chest. It was obvious he had been carrying this around with him, mulling it over and worrying about it. About you. It was endearing, and dangerous for your heart. You bit your lip and placed your coffee mug on the counter next to you.

“It’s okay,” you say earnestly. “He sucked, and I was uncomfortable, but you still made him leave. I didn’t feel like I was in danger or anything, so don’t worry about it.”

“I just feel like it’s partially my fault, for kind of yelling about the fact that you’ve never sucked a dick before.” You’re incredibly grateful that you weren’t drinking coffee at that moment, because you definitely would have spat it out all over the floor. His bluntness never ceased to surprise you. It was unbearably adorable. “I should be more aware of my surroundings, especially when talking about something sensitive like that.”

“Well,” you start, pausing thoughtfully. “I don’t really think that man would have acted differently either way, to be honest with you. Men like that are just… like that. I also don’t really care who knows I’ve never given a blowjob before. It doesn’t matter, at the end of the day. I haven’t done it because I haven’t slept with anyone who’s dick I wanted to suck, and that’s all. I just wish I knew how sometimes, you know?”

He shuffles his weight around at your words, shifting from foot to foot. He’s still fumbling with the pen on the counter, but now his fingers are clumsier than usual. You glance up at his face only to find him staring into empty space in front of him. You figure you made him uncomfortable with your oversharing.

“Sorry. That was TMI.”

“No,” he answers quickly. “We share everything. I told you when I threw up on Seungkwan’s lap and cried because I felt bad, didn’t I?” You smile at the reminder and nod. He finally meets your eyes again. “I was just thinking, you know.”

“What about?”

Vernon’s mind is the most fascinating thing to you. The way he thinks is so out of the box and different, and so beautiful. He has shown you the lyrics he writes for his friend Jihoon sometimes, and they’re so poetic you find yourself turning them over in your mind for days afterward. And the best part about it is that he always answers you when you ask what’s going on inside his head. He grants you access to his thoughts and feelings, and it’s the greatest gift you’ve ever received.

“Well. I don’t know if this is going to come off as creepy or not,” he warns, “but I was thinking like… Maybe you should just get it over with.”

“Get what over with?” Your eyebrow rises as you ask the question, and his furrow in response.

“I just mean that you could know how to give a good blowjob, if you wanted to. You could just… pick someone to sleep with. And ask them to teach you. You know?”

“Nonnie,” you start, and your bewildered tone makes him shrink a little. “You really believe the best of people, don’t you?”

“Well- I mean yes, but I didn't mean you should just sleep with anyone. You could just pick someone you already know.”

His words give you pause. You have plenty of friends in possession of a penis, but the thought of sleeping with most of them feels kinda gross. The one exception is… Well, Vernon. And you sincerely doubt that he is offering himself up. So you do what you always do and make a joke to force your mind away from the thought of sucking on your friend’s dick until he cums for you.

“What, are you offering?”

“I mean, yeah,” he shrugs.

You stop breathing. He is actually, genuinely offering to teach you how to suck dick. More specifically, his dick. The one that has been the star of many of your more illicit fantasies. You want to say yes so badly, want to finally get the experience of being something more to him, but you also don’t want to get ahead of yourself. But…

The room is silent while you’re thinking. You feel his eyes on the side of your face, feel the way he’s cataloging every emotion that overtakes your features, and you swallow harshly. Your heart is beating out of your chest and your hands are shaking, and your brain is running a mile a minute with no end in sight.

Then Vernon places his hand on your thigh. His touch is warm but light, ready to pull away as soon as you want him to, but it’s enough to bring your soul back into your body and get a grasp on your thoughts and feelings. You bite your lower lip and breathe in deeply before letting it go. Yeah, you’re doing this.

“I uh, I’m going to need some guidance,” you say, and you almost miss the way your friend’s eyes widen at your words.

“O-Of course. And if you want to stop at any time, just like, tell me, yeah?”

You smile at the comfort his words bring you. “Yeah.”

There is silence once again, but this one is heavy with a different kind of tension. You both know what’s happening, but you don’t know what your next move should be. Technically, you should be working and saving any… other activities for your own free time, but you don’t think waiting is something you’re capable of at this point.

He is the one to make the first move, placing his half-empty mug on the counter and placing himself between your legs. His hands find a place on your waist, bunching the fabric of your shirt slightly. Sitting on the counter means you’re a little bit taller than he is, but you really don’t mind it. He holds your gaze for a few seconds before his left hand lifts to cup your face.

“Are you okay with kissing?” His voice is a bit deeper than normal, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t make heat pool between your legs. “I understand if not, but-”

You interrupt him with a gentle kiss. His lips are pillowy against yours, smooth and plump. You thank your past self for bullying him into using chapstick, because you can honestly say that this might be your favorite kiss ever.

Vernon’s hand moves from your jaw to rake through your hair, and you moan a little when his fingers catch a little in the back. He responds by stepping even closer to you and sliding his entire arm around your back, your chest pressing against his deliciously. The only thought going through your mind is the fact that you are kissing your favorite coworker, and how you really, really want to bury his cock in your throat.

He chases after you when you pull away slightly to catch your breath, and you don’t even mind that the oxygen deprivation is making you dizzy. You slump against him a little when he tugs on your hair again, and you move to return the favor. As soon as you pull on the hair at the back of his neck, he forces himself to pull away and gulp down some air.

His eyes are glazed over, his lips slick with a mix of your and his saliva, and his chest is rising and falling where it’s pressed against yours. It's painfully attractive. He rasps out a quiet groan and leans his forehead against yours. You love the feeling of his harsh breaths hitting your face and answer back with your own.

You feel like you’re in a bubble, because the world around you feels muted and time feels like it has stopped moving. You wouldn’t be surprised if the earth had stopped spinning.

“Sorry,” he breathes. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and inhales your scent. “I just really wanted to do that.”

“Stop apologizing,” you respond, bringing your hand onto his head to scratch at his scalp. “I liked it. Maybe a bit too much.”

Your words bring a whine out of Vernon, and he squeezes you tighter. You’re still on top of the counter, but you can feel his bulge against the inside of your thigh. It twitches against you every time you tug at the ends of his hair, and it makes you smile.

One of your hands snakes down and cups him through his jeans. He reacts strongly despite the thick material separating you. His willingness to show you how good you make him feel make you fall for him all over again. As if he wasn’t already perfect enough.

“Y/N,” he gulps when you move your hand against him, “we’re taking this at your pace, and I can go as slowly as you want to, but I think I might go insane if I don’t get these pants off.”

You giggle breathlessly as you pull away from him, and he forces himself to take a step back from you. You lean back on your hands, your knees still spread from where he was standing previously. He’s distracted for a few seconds before he finally remembers to unbutton his jeans and tugs them down his legs.

The bulge had been apparent through the jeans, but you can truly tell how hard he is when they come off. The way he twitches in his boxers is so obvious you almost feel bad for him. You decide it’s time you follow through and receive your lesson.

You hop off the counter and slide onto your knees in front of him. It’s unfair how attractive he is even from this angle, you think, and slide your hands up his thighs. You’ve given handjobs before, so it’s not exactly your first time touching a dick, but the goal is different now. This time, your hands are just the warmup and not the main event. You’re just hoping you can bring him some sort of pleasure in spite of your inexperience.

“Tell me how to start,” you whisper up at him. He blinks a few times at the sight of you before sucking in a deep breath.

“Yeah,” he rasps. His throat is already dry with anticipation. “I uh, I mean everyone is different when it comes to this stuff, so uh-”

“Just teach me what you like, Nonnie.” Your hands are massaging his thighs, nails digging into his skin every now and then. Whenever they do, you can feel him shudder.

“O-Oh, okay,” he breathes, sounding broken already. “I prefer skipping the handjob first, I guess. I really l-like the feeling of licking, especially at the tip, and uh-” He is becoming redder by the second. “One step at a time. Uhm, start by removing my boxers.”

You nod obediently and slide your hands up to his lower tummy, watching the expressions of pleasure as they take over his face. You assume you will never get to do this again, so you do your best to burn it all into your mind for later use on lonely nights spent with your vibrator. He shudders again when your nails scratch his skin lightly. Your fingers curl around the hem of his underwear and tug.

His cock is beautiful. It’s pretty long, curving slightly towards his stomach, and the tip of it is a perfect shade of peach. Your mouth waters at the thought of getting to taste it, and you eye the drop of precum spilling from the tip. You gently shuffle closer, but he stops you.

“Sorry, you’re fine, I just need something to lean against,” he explains when you look at him in fear of having done something wrong. He maneuvers you both so that he’s leaning against the counter you were sitting on not five minutes ago, and you’re in front of him.

“What now, Nonnie?” you ask, his eyes shutting and chest expanding to accommodate a deep breath.

“You should probably just uh, stroke me a few times first. Then uhm, then you can do whatever you want.” You blink at him a few times, trying to indicate that he’s supposed to be teaching you how to do this. For once, he gets the hint. “Like I said, I uh, like licking. When you take me in you just have to make sure not to like, bite me. Other than that, you can take it at your own speed and depth - for your comfort, of course, but I’m also not picky.”

You admire the flush decorating his cheeks and neck. He looks so good like this, towering over you and looking at you like you hold the answer to his ultimate pleasure. You try to convince yourself that you do, that you will be able to listen and follow his guidance well enough that this will feel good for him. You decide that you will.

Raising your right hand, you grip him tightly in your fist. It makes him suck in a breath, and you feel the muscles in his thighs tense up. You pump him a few times, going slow and using his precum as lube. It’s not enough, of course, but you will move on soon.

“Fuck…” he heaves, leaning back onto the counter even more. He looks into your eyes and swears again. “Please, sweetheart, as soon as you’re ready, I-I want-”

You cut him off by pressing your tongue against the head of his dick. The flavor is salty and a little bit bitter, but it tastes like heaven. Your eyes briefly slip closed as you continue kitten-licking at his slit, and he lets out a winy moan. You open your eyes and look at him, only to find him with his head tilted back to look at the ceiling.

“How is this?” you pause to ask, continuing before he’s had time to answer.

“Good, baby,” Vernon answers through his labored breathing. “So, so good. Keep going, you’re doing great.”

The praise bolsters your confidence, and you give a long lick from his base to his tip. The motion makes him moan again, so you repeat it a few more times. In no time at all, his cock is covered in a mixture of your saliva and his own precum. You decide it’s time to try and take him in your mouth - both because you’ve teased him enough, but you’re also too impatient to wait anymore.

His tip breaches the heat of your mouth , and you find you have to open your jaw quite a bit to accommodate him. A punched out groan leaves him, and one of his hands comes down to tangle in your hair. When a strand of it falls in front of your face, he gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail at the back of your head.

You love the weight of him on your tongue, and dare to sink down a bit lower. He hits the top of your mouth. You gag around him, and he gently pulls you off of him to check on you.

“You okay? You don’t have to keep going,” he reminds you. It only serves to make you more determined to make him cum down the back of your throat.

“What can I do better?” you ask while stroking him in your hand. You still want to improve.

“Honestly?” he wheezes, his hips jumping of their own accord. “You’re doing great.” You glare a bit at him, and he smiles down at you apologetically. “Sorry. But you are doing great. Maybe try sucking a bit more? Not just placing me in your mouth.”

You nod and sink right back down on him. His noises of pleasure are never-ending, and they only increase in volume as well as frequency once you properly suck around him. You bob up and down on him, his hand clenching in your hair as he’s doing his best not to fuck your throat. You’re making it pretty hard.

“Please, baby, I’m gonna fucking- Where do you want me to cum?”

His voice is hoarse and strained, and his grip on your hair has grown so tight it’s stinging your scalp. You savor the pain and rub your thighs together, mewling around him. You grip his ass and push deeper to signal for him to cum in your mouth, and it’s not a second too soon because he immediately spills his seed into you.

Vernon cums so much that some spills out onto your chin, but you diligently swallow what you can. He tries to keep his eyes on you, but his vision quite literally whites out as he reaches his high, so his eyes screw shut without his permission. You, on the other hand, couldn’t tear your gaze from him if you tried. He’s beautiful when he cums, his eyebrows scrunched in what almost looks like pain and his jaw slack in awe. His thighs tremble, and you’re glad he’s leaning against the counter so he doesn’t collapse onto the floor.

“Fuck, how are you so good at this,” he heaves out when his vision returns. You just smirk up at him, some of his cum still covering your chin and lips.

“I had a good teacher,” you tease back. Your voice is raspy after bobbing on his cock, and he finds it painfully attractive.

He notices the way you clench your thighs together and realizes you’re still on the floor. He’s quick to bend down and help you to your feet. As soon as you’re in front of him, he’s kissing you. He doesn’t care about the cum transferring from your chin to his, nor the fact that his softening dick is still out in the open; all he can think about is that he wants to pay you back for what you just did for him.

“Nonnie,” you breathe between kisses, and instead of pulling away it makes him kiss you harder, faster, deeper. He loves when you call him that. He reluctantly pulls away when you push gently against his chest, though. “We should finish the-”

“I need to eat you out, baby. Please, please let me.” His interruption surprises you, and so does his suggestion. He must see your confusion, because he quickly clears things up for you. “I want to, because I like you so much. I promise to ask you to be my girlfriend after this, but please, let me eat you out first.”

“Okay, but Nonnie-” you say, but he interrupts you with a passionate kiss as he mumbles thanks against your lips. “Nonnie.” He sighs and pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes to stop himself from jumping you again, and you smile. “I’ll say yes right now. I want to be your girlfriend. Is that okay?”

He kisses you so deeply you lose track of where he starts and you end, but you’re just so glad to be kissing him again you probably couldn’t have figured it out anyway. You don’t talk much more that evening, and you definitely don’t get home before midnight, but at least you go home and fall into bed together. Maybe his inattentiveness was a blessing, after all.

masterlist

a/n: don't forget to like and reblog if you enjoyed this post! <3

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Month 2 day 3, got more inbetweening done and continued trying to make the legs stop clipping through each other. I feel like this would be easier if I was doing it in 3D? Idk. We'll find out eventually, I just need a computer that can handle Blender.

[elizabethemerald]

Danny wandered the graves, morose, talking quietly to himself as he was used to. It was his designated social hour. Jazz would have been proud. Here he was, out of his tiny little apartment actually enjoying the city of Gotham. Of course he was wandering a graveyard rather than hanging around any living people, but it was better than nothing.

He had lost everything and then he had ran. It wasn't safe to stay in Amity anymore with the GIW swarming. So he destroyed the portals and left. Gotham was one of the few cities that had enough ambient ectoplasm that he wouldn't die a second time and it hid his ecto signature. And while he had managed to find a small apartment that accepted cash, he still wouldn't quite say he was thriving.

He had taken to spending hours curled up in his bed, sometimes going days without moving. Sometimes he thought he should just stop. Either disappear into the Infinite Realms or let the GIW take him. But something kept him going, kept him fighting to live every day.

Jazz wouldn't be happy with him if he never left his apartment. Sam would beat his ass if he gave himself over to the GIW. He could easily imagine how Tucker would roast him for even thinking about it. He still didn't know how his parents would react to his ghost form. They had died without knowing their son was Phantom.

If any of his family had formed as ghosts they would be somewhere in the Infinite Realms, but he couldn't bare to look and face their anger that he failed to save them. So instead he drifted through life, trying to find another reason to keep going other than his own stubbornness.

He had made several loops of the graveyard when he heard something that might just give him that reason.

It was a thumping noise.

He knew his hearing was better than the average human's, and he followed the increasingly desperate sounding thumping to one of the graves. His slow beating heart almost stopped as he realized the thumping was accompanied by someone crying and screaming, and the sound was coming from underground. In the grave.

Danny transformed and dove into the dirt. He phased into the coffin without difficulty grabbed a writhing and very much still living figure from within and pulled them up to the surface. The person wasn't a zombie, he could hear a heart beat, and feel the rise and fall of his chest.

He glanced at the name on the headstone while the kid tried desperately to fill his lungs. "Jason Todd Beloved Brother and Son"

"Jason? Jason, are you ok?" It was a stupid question. Danny felt like an idiot immediately. Had he been ok after his accident with the portal? Obviously not.

Jason didn't respond to the question. Instead he sagged bonelessly into Danny's arms and passed out. Danny glanced around, not sure what to do with an unconscious teen, while rain poured down on them both. While it was possible that someone buried the poor kid alive, considering there was a headstone and how he was dressed, Danny felt it was more likely that Jason had woken up in his grave, had come back to life some how.

There was no way Danny could take this kid to a hospital. If the GIW started sniffing around because of a formally dead guy it would be bad for everyone. Every ghost and liminal in the city would be in danger. Danny would rather rip out his own core than hand Jason over to those scum bags. So that really left only one option.

He glanced at the headstone again, memorizing the information so he could find the Todds once Jason was feeling better. The grave site itself had no trace of what had happened there. He lifted Jason in his arms, turned them both invisible and flew towards his apartment.

.

"Ok, buddy, let's get you out of those wet clothes." Danny said softly to the catatonic Jason. Jason hadn't yet responded even when he regained consciousness, but Danny was well used to talking to himself so he just kept on talking as if Jason would respond. He was sure Jazz would have something smart to say about Jason's state. While Tucker and Sam would roast him within an inch of his half life for how much of a fucking sad-sack Danny was.

Danny tried to give Jason as much privacy as possible as he stripped the other guy and got him into Danny's softest pair of sweats. Also his only clean pair of sweats. It had been a while since he had done laundry. He swapped his own wet clothes for his next softest pair, which he had been wearing for almost a week straight before he had decided to go out for a walk in the graveyard. He probably smelled ripe, but Jason didn't seem to mind.

"There! Isn't that much better!" Danny said with a happy smile as Jason sat on the edge of his bed staring at the floor. "Now I just need to see if we have any food, I bet you're starving! I know I certainly am. Apparently I've been putting of eating for a little too long."

By a little too long try almost three days.

Danny gently pushed Jason back onto the bed so he was laying down. Then turned to head to the kitchenette in his apartment. He stood staring at his mostly empty for a few minutes, before determining with surety that he had nothing that would be good for a catatonic recently dead guy.

He turned to pace his house and almost jumped out of his skin because Jason was standing right next to him.

"Ancients!" Danny floated into the air in surprise. He settled back on the ground. "Jason! You should be resting. Go back and lay down."

He pointed towards the bedroom, but Jason just stood next to him swaying slightly. Danny shoved him gently and Jason swayed like a tree before settling back as he was standing. Danny could only shrug, maybe Jason just liked his company. But it didn't solve the food problem.

Danny snapped his fingers as he heard the sound of his neighbor singing to herself. He knew she only did that when she was cooking. Maybe she would be able to help him! He had his tool kit (that he had stolen from a goon van) that he used to repair appliances (that he found in dumpsters) and sold to pay his rent. He could totally offer to repair something for Mrs. Wren in exchange for food for Jason. He quickly made his way to his door, Jason following closely behind.

"Jason, you stay here. I'm going to get you some food, ok?" Danny said as he unlocked the three locks on his front door and walked into the hallway. He tried to stop Jason from following him, but his new best friend stayed right behind him.

He knocked at the door of Mrs. Wren, and gently leaned Jason against the wall next to the door. He heard the older woman immediately stop singing and creep towards the door. He guessed she recognized him through the peephole because she opened the door a little, the chain still on the door.

"Hi, Mrs. Wren." Danny said, with a forcibly bright smile. She didn't respond, only narrowed her eyes at him. Jason started to slouch and Danny quickly pushed him to be standing back upright.

When Mrs. Wren still didn't say anything Danny quickly started talking.

"Uh, my friend here is really sick, and I was wondering if you knew of anything that would be good to help him feel better? I'm really good with tools. I'll repair anything you have that's broken in exchange!"

She glared at him a moment longer than closed her door. Danny sighed. He didn't want to leave Jason alone in his apartment (mostly because he wasn't sure he would stay) but he also didn't want to drag a guy who was dead yesterday through the streets of Gotham. That was just asking for someone to to get hit by a car.

He was surprised to hear the sound of Mrs. Wren unlatching the chain and unlocking her door (he could hear five locks. Maybe he should install more locks on his door).

"You can fix anything?" She asked, her eyes still narrowed at him and Jason.

"Yes ma'am."

"Come in."

.

Later, two servings of a delicious and nutritious soup and one broken AC unit richer, Danny and Jason were back in his apartment. He carefully fed Jason, who fortunately seemed to be able to chew and swallow on his own, though he did dribble down his chin occasionally. Danny felt happy. He would be return the repaired AC unit tomorrow, and with the skills learned in his parent's lab, it would run more efficiently as well.

Once the two boys were finished with their food, Danny feeling comfortably full for the first time, Danny got them both back into bed. Jason didn't seem to be too far from him at any time, so they would probably have to share a bed until he was feeling better.

"Goodnight Jason." Danny whispered softly, and sleep took him gently as he listened to the quiet breathing of his new friend.

-Danny “I relate more to dead people than living, even if they aren’t walking/floating around” Fenton, hanging out in a cemetery

-someone claws their way out of their grave

-grave stone reads “Jason Todd”

-that’s weird™️

-guy is catatonic and it’s raining

-Danny takes him home just so he doesn’t die(again) from exposure

-keeps him around

-Danny was pretty lonely before

-somehow the catatonic Jason is now his best friend

-that’s kind of sad