#Scallop detail

[lacetulle]

Rami Kadi | Mantra

[landoffreaksandfrogs]

POV: you are eridan

[rosiearts]

@flutefemme

This design slaps Nintendo take notes

[kindercelery]

I hate you sm Augustine 💞💞

[abimee]

the final commission in the set for @tsotc of the lovely couple Cyrus (he/him) and Phitsamai Wongsuwan (sy/hyr / she /her) ! first time in all my couch-drawing years drawing a chaise lounge [poses]

[simple-pretty]

the row pre-fall 2025 | looks (from top) 4, 7, 13, and 20

the row courtesy photos via vogue runway

[hamausagi]

out of all the mikus why did i pick maneki miku to make the cosplay by hand. why did i do this.

[galaxyseclipse]

Marie's marshmallow insect pet thing is doing that thousand quota stare

it really is lol

there are zero thoughts back there

[emchant3d]

modern au, exes to lovers, transfem stevie harrington

Stevie Harrington is not having a good day.

By all accounts, she should be. Robin woke her right on time by pressing a perfectly made brown sugar shaken espresso into her hand. Nancy and Chrissy got to the venue earlier than expected. The hair and makeup people were on schedule. Their boozy charcuterie brunch during their prep time was perfectly served, the mimosas delicious and the food fresh and light enough to put on her nervous stomach. 

Everything’s gone off without a hitch. She looks gorgeous. She’s got her something old, her something new, her something borrowed, and even her something blue. Her hair’s done in a soft blowout, framing her face but out of the way, ready for the combs of her veil to slip into. Her makeup is elegant, not too showy and not too dramatic, neutral and warm and sweet. And her dress. It’s what she always dreamed of, clingy and silky with a dramatic leg slit and a long train, off the shoulders, perfectly white. She’s staring at herself in the mirror knowing that in forty-five minutes, she’s going to hold the world’s most beautiful wedding bouquet and walk down the most perfectly decorated aisle in the quaintest, sweetest church she could find, and she’ll stand across from her fiancé and take his hands and say “I do” and all of her dreams will come true.

So she should be having a good day.

Because it’s her wedding day, and Stevie Harrington is about to become Stefania Hagan.

Maybe that brunch wasn’t so perfect after all, because she thinks she’s about to puke.

“I can’t do this,” she says, but her voice is so soft it’s barely a whisper and the girls don’t even glance at her. “I can’t do this,” she repeats, and Robin - bless her, her favorite person in the world, her soulmate, her other half, her maid of honor - glances up. 

“What’s that, Evie?” she asks, and the others look over at her, and Stevie stands there beneath their gazes and knows if she just says it again, says I can’t do this, don’t make me marry him, get me out of here, all three of them would drag her to an exit and get her the fuck out.

They don’t even like Tommy. Robin actively hates him, actually, and that should have been enough for Stevie to never look at him twice.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t enough.

She thinks back to a few days ago, drunk in a bar with a white sash wrapped around her torso, a tiara on her head, and mascara running down her face as she desperately sobbed on Robin’s shoulder during her bachelorette party. That little meltdown wasn’t enough. And she thinks back further, to when Tommy proposed - in public, at a fucking baseball game, on the goddamn jumbotron. Dread had settled in her chest at the sight of the ring (huge, gaudy, she hated it on sight) even as she pasted on a smile and said yes. That hadn’t been enough.

But somehow standing here done up head to toe, about to walk down the aisle in her absolute dream wedding - that’s enough. Because everything about today is right. Everything’s in place. Everything’s gorgeous and going to plan and she should be so, so happy - but it’s the wrong man waiting for her at the end of all of it.

She can’t do this. 

She looks up and meets Robin’s eyes and forces a smile. “I said I need to get my veil,” she lies, and she slips into her shoes (red bottoms, a gift from Tommy’s mother, perfectly white and pointed and it’s her dream day, how can she be throwing this away?) and walks into the other room where her garment bag is hanging, and her veil is there with its delicate detail and it’s scalloped edges and it’s all so fucking perfect she’s going to scream, she wants to rip it to pieces and she wants to tear this dress off and she wants to sob, she doesn’t want to do this, she doesn’t want to get married - not to him. Not to Tommy. 

She could ask for help. Robin would have her out of here in five minutes flat, Nancy would craft an excuse to tell everyone, and Chrissy would cause a distraction. But even that’s too long of a wait. Even that’s too much attention, too much suspicion. She needs to move faster than that. She needs out now.

She quickens her pace as she crosses the room, dress dragging along the carpet, and she snags her phone where it’s sitting on the end table next to an overstuffed love seat, and in three long strides she’s out the door and in the hall and the church has been busy and packed all day but somehow, miraculously, there’s no one here.

No one sees Stevie as she gathers up the fabric of her dress in her hands and starts to walk towards the exit. No one sees as her walk speeds to a jog, and then a run, and then she slams out of a side door and she’s on the sidewalk and she’s sprinting, her heels are going to get scuffed by the pavement but she can’t care, she’s running as fast as she can and dodging people on the sidewalk as they turn and gawk at her and she cannot give them a thought, cannot focus on them even a little bit because she has to get away, escape is the only thought on her mind as she gasps for air, her dress is so heavy and it’s not made for running that’s for goddamn sure, and the last few years with Tommy flash through her mind - every time he’s undermined her or given her a backhanded compliment or policed her, told her she wasn’t feminine enough, told her she wasn’t trying hard enough to pass, told her to just keep it all to herself so no one would know she wasn’t cis, wouldn’t embarrass him by making a scene, all the times that come together to a glaringly obvious conclusion that he doesn’t really love her and she kind of hates him a little actually, and obviously she can’t fucking marry him and–

There. 

A beat-up four-door with an Uber sticker in the window. 

That’ll do, she thinks, and she changes course, shoulder-checking a man and not apologizing for it as she makes a beeline for the car. She pops off an acrylic wrenching the door open and tossing herself into the backseat, and she yells “DRIVE!” at the top of her lungs and somehow, through some miracle, they listen, swerving into traffic with a loud curse and a myriad of honking horns and a quaint, sweet little church growing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.

She’s gasping for breath, chest heaving, staring out the back window like she’s waiting for someone to follow her - and maybe she is, maybe Tommy is hot on her trail, or maybe Robin is coming to kill her for not including her in her mad dash to freedom and instead jumping in a stranger’s car going God knows where.

“So uh,” a voice says, and she whips around, staring wide-eyed at the brown eyes fixed on her in the mirror, and no, no fucking way– “where to, ma’am?” 

“Um,” she says, and her voice is shaky, cracking a little, she brushes her hair out of her face and stares and– wait.

There’s a beat. The driver’s eyes widen. Recognition flashes over his face at the same time it registers for Stevie. 

“Stevie?” Eddie Munson, her ex-boyfriend of several years, the man she hasn’t spoken to since that fateful night they went their separate ways, is staring at her in shock, not even looking at the road, and the only thing she can think is how he’s just as averse to road safety now as he’d been way back when.

“Eddie,” she croaks out. 

Too many emotions are overwhelming her at once and it feels like the biggest cliché in the world, but honestly, Stevie feels like she’s entitled to some dramatics. It’s her goddamn wedding day, after all.

Her failed wedding day.

Where she just left her fiancé at the altar.

“Oh god,” she manages. Her lower lip wobbles. Her vision blurs.

“Stevie,” Eddie says again, like a warning, and that’s enough to push her over.

She bursts into tears in his backseat.

“Hey hey hey!” he says like she’s a fucking spooked horse or something, which only makes her cry more, ugly sobs that shake her shoulders and drip tear drops onto her dress. “Stevie, honey–”

“Do NOT call me honey right now!” she manages, and he raises a hand in surrender before flipping on a turn signal and finding a parking lot to pull over in. 

“Okay, okay! No comforting pet names, you got it,” he agrees, and he shuts the car off, turning in his seat to look at her, concern painted all over his face and that’s just really not fair, she thinks, that he still looks so earnest and sweet and fucking worried about her.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, urgent and serious, and she shakes her head quickly.

“No! No, I’m - I’m fine, really,” she insists and he proves that he is a gentleman after all, because he doesn’t call her out on the blatant lie.

“Okay,” he says, level, his hand hovering in the space between them like he wants to touch her. “What do you need?” he asks, and she wipes at her face with her hands, swallowing down yet another sob.

“Get me out of here,” she pleads, and he searches her face for - something, she doesn’t know what, because she’s sure all she’s showing him is how much of a fucking mess she is, but he must find whatever he’s looking for.

He gives her a sharp nod. “Anywhere in particular, sweetheart?” he asks, turning to start the car again. She doesn’t call him out on the pet name this time.

“Anywhere but here,” she says, and he puts the car in reverse, pulling back onto the road.

“You got it,” he says, and some of that old charm must kick in - he winks at her in the rearview. She resolutely ignores the spike of emotion it gives her. 

Then she takes a deep, shuddery breath, and opens the group chat to break the news to her wedding party.

part 2

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I wouldn't exactly call this 1922 villa in Freeport, IL a fixer upper, but it needs some work. I would, however, call the 7bd, 7ba mansion a bargain at $315K. A sale is pending, of course, b/c to pass this up would be crazy.

So, as soon as you enter the foyer, you can see that the wall needs some repair. I would try to do something to make that crest sharper. It's a beautiful feature and has lost detail from too many coats of paint.

From the entrance there are stairs down to the greatroom. Note that the home will need flooring. Love the ceiling beams, built-in shelving and double doors. Not to mention, the arched doorways.

Isn't this magnificent? It's massive. Look at the fireplace, the balcony, the ceiling, and the 3 arched openings upstairs. The floor that's been put down is new and clean, so it's ready to go with whatever the buyer puts down.

Then double doors open to this room. Look at the fountain, the light fixtures, and the scalloped ceiling. I cannot believe that this gorgeous home is $315K.

I'm going to say that this beautiful room with the pitched ceiling and double doors to the grounds is the dining room. Look at the lovely chandelier.

I was expecting a crap kitchen b/c of the price, but this is so nice.

Going up the lovely tiled stairs to the 2nd level.

Here we are, up in the balcony.

And, this area is set up as a home office.

Nice tile bath. The ceiling needs attention.

This bedroom is adorable.

The laundry room is right next to it.

And, there's a small vintage 3pc bath.

This larger room looks like a primary bedroom.

It has a remodeled en-suite.

And, there's this nice dressing room.

The bedrooms are lovely.

In the back the deck needs attention.

To get to the wonderful turret, you have to go outside. Look at the stairs around it.

There's a door here.

Isn't this fabulous? A little library.

And, this room is upstairs. You can see a bit of the ceiling.

Look at the size of this place for $315K. .98 acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1511-W-Demeter-Dr-Freeport-IL-61032/122370660_zpid/

[voluptuarian]

another thing that's weird about adults who make an identity out of reading children's books is what they hold up as representative of the values they find in YA/young reader's fiction. They typically bring up wish fulfillment fantasy, morals and clear cut lessons, adventure stories with mild peril, strong centering on friendship and found family, and stories that make them "feel good" and are extremely light on genuinely challenging themes or ethically dubious situations.

Meanwhile when I was neck-deep in YA as a kid in the 90s and early 2000s this was the kind of stuff I was reading, other kids were reading, and that was winning awards, being highlighted on shelves and recommended by librarians:

Hatchet by Gary Paulsen, in which a teenage boy survives a plane crash and is stranded in the Canadian wilderness and forced to survive on his own for months. He is ultimately rescued but is permanently altered by the experience. His navigating the drama of (I believe either currently separating or recently divorced) parents is also a major plot element.

Virtual War by Gloria Skurzynski, where real-life wars have been eradicated and instead are fought virtually, (inspired, if I remember correctly, by the disastrous results of a previous nuclear conflict) by specially chosen champions who are trained in combat strategy from childhood. Throughout, the three child champions are forced to question and push back against what the government has told them is the truth as well as against their own prejudices, including toward one of their own who is considered a "mutant" due to his dwarfism; it also details the grueling hours-long "war" in which the kids watch thousands of little 3D soldiers get blown up and dismembered and leaves them feeling genuine guilt for participating in.

Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George, which focuses on a teenage Inuit girl who is orphaned, forced into marriage and sexually assaulted, then runs away and ends up lost in the Arctic and survives by befriending and living with a pack of wolves.

Out of the Dust by Karen Hesse, in which the heroine lives with her parents on a failing farm as the Dust Bowl is beginning, accidentally sets her pregnant mother on fire resulting in her mother's lingering death and the death of her baby, and the girl herself being permanently maimed, after which she and her father become estranged and she eventually tries to run away.

Summer of My German Soldier by Bette Greene, which follows a young Jewish American girl on the WWII homefront who befriends (and falls in love with) a German POW, and when he escapes, hides him in her home for months; eventually the prisoner is caught and killed and the girl is sent to prison after being ostracized from the community and disowned by her parents.

The Ramsey Scallop by Francis Temple, where the heroine, engaged since childhood to her current fiance, is sent on a pilgrimage with him as way of working out his trauma from serving in the crusades. Neither of them feels ready to get married and the fiance is dubious about doing much living at all, but they're able to get to know each other and build trust on the road. It's been ages since I read it but I'm pretty sure there's a scene where a hot single guy who helps patch up an injury she sustained then offers to have sex with her, which she decides to turn down.

Music of the Dolphins by Karen Hesse, where a feral child who has been raised by a pod of dolphins is rescued and taken to a center for rehabilitation. The whole thing follows her progress at understanding to how to be human, and eventually her decision to reject it all and go back to her dolphin family.

The Last Book In the Universe by Rodman Philbrick, whose hero is a teenage orphan living in a purposely abandoned dystopia, ostracized by his community for being epileptic, whose only friends are an old man who is the last literate person in the community and a monosyllabic feral child. The split between the have-nots and the haves, who live in sheltered futuristic cities, and discussion of privilege (one of the main characters is a girl from the cities who comes out to do charity work in the dystopian district) are major themes, and violence is a regular occurrence, including toward the finale when the boy's mentor is murdered by a mob while he watches.

(And of course there's Among the Hidden and its sequels by Margaret Peterson Haddix which I never read, but my sister did, and I know at some point a whole bunch of child characters are massacred by the government because it upset my sister so badly she cried.)

And I couldn't forget The Dear America series, which includes:

character who is finishing high school as the Vietnam War begins and watches her social circle split nastily over the issue, lives through classmates and friends getting drafted, and ends up working at a hospital as volunteer where she is assigned to help disabled veterans

character whose mother (and I think siblings), as well as numerous fellow travelers die while traveling alongside her on the Oregon Trail, and later accidentally poisons to death several of her friends after picking a look-alike plant for their dinner; only one survives, who she eventually marries

character who is kidnapped by a local native tribe and eventually adopted, then marries a fellow captive, only for him and other friends and family to be killed when the tribe is attacked by Europeans, putting her into a total crisis of identity and conflicting loyalties

character who is taken from her tribe to be put in residential school, during which she is forcefully acculturated, severely bullied by another classmate, and a childhood friend of hers is accidentally buried alive

multiple books about immigrants in the 1800 and 1900s which highlighted struggles with poverty, cultural pressures, and prejudice; one of them follows a pro-union factory worker who watches as multiple friends die in the Triangle Shirtwaist fire, and another whose father imports her to America at 13 to marry a coal miner

most of these stories emphasize the young protagonist ending up in situations were they are either on their own, or so alienated from the adults around them that they might as well be. The protagonists have to assume the adult duty of taking care of themselves, but also of thinking for themselves and making their own decisions and judgements about their lives and the world.

they are also going through big changes, often ones created by their parent's decisions, and which they frequently dislike or are straight up Bad for them. This contrasts with later, when the protagonists are able to make decisions for themselves-- often this comes through hardship and abandonment, but ultimately allows them to control their narrative going forward.

the setting and events are often harrowing, deeply unpleasant, and put the protagonist and their friends in danger of victimization by forces around them. Obviously this is exciting for kids to read, but it also allows them to see someone their age on their own, entering into Adult situations and taking on that role. It's also a break from the overtly positive or cartoonishly (but usually un-seriously) bad circumstances that dominate younger kids fiction and an introduction to the idea that life is just terrible most of the time, sometimes massively and unbelievably so. (It's going from the early childhood story of Madeline's thrilling adventures escaping forced labor in a factory, to the older kid's or YA story of seeing the protagonist work at one day after day, getting injured, having friends get sick, and then watching a girl's scalp get ripped off by the machine, something which creates not excitement but genuine horror and sympathy.) These plots also allow adolescents a chance to experience Big Emotions (like the ones they're about to fall head-first into themselves) in a stable, safe way. All of this aims to create a bridge from the juvenile reality to the genuine, adult one. Trite moral lessons are dispensed with in favor of allowing the child to go out and start thinking for themselves. And especially in stories like the Dear America books, it allows a look at things that happened in the past that we have, or should learn from, but also allows for a fuller emotional, ethical, and empathetic development.

often the introduction of sex is part of the story, from initial experiences of attraction (and the resulting self-consciousness, jealousy, etc.) but also sometimes actual sexual experience. Especially in the historical stories, marriage is also frequently part of the story-- either again, as a fantasy introduction to adult experiences, or as a realistic detail separating a child's historical experience from current ones and creating a better understanding of the hardships historical people went through.

and most include some form of rejection of prevailing authority and thought. Instead of blindly "doing what your parents tell you to" these protagonists must do what they think is practical or ethical. The boy in Hatchet cannot wait for an authority figure to guide him, he must figure out how to survive entirely on his own, while the kids in Virtual War are old enough to begin questioning the entire structure they've been raised in, and to develop empathy for figures that structure has deemed outsiders; the heroine of Music of the Dolphins decides the entire experience of being in human society is not for her, and returns to living with animals.

So these books offer harrowing circumstances, protagonists who are isolated literally or through moral or political alignment, and who must learn to live on their own and make decisions for themselves, often in defiance of prevailing attitudes. They usually emphasize finding one's place (even if that place is completely alone and unsupported), fostering understanding and sympathy with others, even with people who are considered "undesirable," who are different, or who have behaved badly to you in the past. And they frequently involve violence, budding sexuality, exploitation and abuse by authority figures/structures, and a heaping helping of death, including the deaths of beloved friends and family members. What is "feel good" and "unchallenging" about that? And like, I can't speak for what YA is bringing to the table now, but these people are overwhelmingly adults, they were reading YA at around the same time I was, I don't think it would be possible for them to have somehow missed the plethora of books with these hallmarks. So where did they get this idea that YA is some land of comfort where no complicated idea can ever reach you? Even Harry Potter is full of them, and we know they read that!

[taylorswiftstyle]

Attending a wedding | New York City, NY | September 8, 2024

Larkspur & Hawk ‘Posy Earrings’ - no longer available EF Collection ‘Diamond Mini Huggie & Prong Set Chain Stud Earring’ - $850.00 Cartier ‘Agrafe Herringbone Twisted Necklace’ - $27,250.00 Jacquie Aiche 'Spaced Out High Neck Body Chain' - $11,550.00 Wove Made x Michelle Wie West 'Custom Diamond Tennis Bracelet’ - $5,680.00 (starting) Lizzie Mandler ‘3 Row Cleo Bracelet’ - $18,300.00 Zimmermann ‘Halliday Dress’ - $795.00 Vivienne Westwood 'Rosie Circle Frame Denim-Jacquard Bag’ - $544.00 Christian Louboutin ‘Condora ’85 Leather Heeled Sandals’ - $845.00

It’s not often we see Taylor looking this fancy outside Electric Lady - the NY recording studio where she’s recorded many of her albums (including all TV’s, Lover, folklore, Midnights, and TTPD). On this occasion, Taylor wasn’t heading in for a session - but for a wedding! With Travis as +1, the two were guests to the nuptials of model Karen Elson and Electric Lady Studios owner Lee Foster. To Vogue, Karen noted the importance of having one of their intimate ceremonies (the other was in Nashville) at Electric Lady. "[Lee has] put his heart and soul into [it] … it’s really his home,” she said. 

Taylor has a go-to wedding guest formula: a fit/flare midi dress, tons of jewelry, and minimalist heels. The dress is lovely and I’m a fan of the scallop detail at the top and hem + the pretty floral print. I can’t even get too mad at the wrinkles - it’s linen, after all. Overall, it’s a great pick for a breezy, late summer garden party. And of course I’m a fan of those minimal ankle strap heels (natch). 

The addition of the “something blue” bag was genius. It ties into the blue of her floral print + the coordinating Vivienne Westwood polo Travis was wearing. While Taylor couldn’t have known, it also played nicely with the bride’s custom Valentino gown which featured a blue floral appliqué. The biggest question mark? If wearing such a light coloured dress to a wedding is appropriate. There are unconfirmed remarks that the bride requested female guests wear cream. As someone who loves to aggressively plan and prefers to err on the side of caution, I elect to stay away from a dress this light - even with a floral print - when dressing for a wedding. Though Taylor’s dress is actually much warmer toned in retail photos. It falls closer to a pale orange. Ultimately, if this was indeed bride’s orders - I think she aced the assignment. 

I love that Taylor’s jewelry styling tapped into one of her key style pillars: repetition. All of these are familiar pieces we’ve seen styled before. The oldest are her earrings which she first showed off in 2021. Next is her beloved vintage Cartier necklace which she acquired last summer. And, most recently, both her EF Collection earrings and Lizzie Mandler bracelet which she wore to the Chiefs vs Ravens opening season game this week. 

In looking at her jewelry, my eye also happened to spot a body chain she paired with her Cartier necklace. This immediately brought me back to Jack Antonoff’s wedding last summer when she also wore this piece. Maybe it’s her wedding signature move. 

Illustration by Amelia Noyes

[joliebean]

Slay Belles - A Custom Content Set by Ice-CreamForBreakfast and Joliebean

Ho! Ho! Ho! You’ve heard of the Queen of Christmas (she lost the trademark bid, besties), but make room in your sims’ closets for the Queens of Frump and Sensible Ladieswear this holiday season! Joliebean and Ice-Creamforbreakfast present the Slay Belles Set! This festive collection comes complete with enough glitter, sequins, gold leaf and shiny, shiny fabric to send Liberace’s ghost into a tailspin, so if that’s your thing, put your sunglasses on and get ready!

Download - Joliebean’s Part | Ice-CreamForBreakfast’s Part

Enjoy and Happy Holidays! 🎄🎅

- Ice-CreamForBreakfast & Joliebean! xoxo

~The details about my part are under the cut~

Countdown Hair – Are you a genie in a bottle? If so, this feathered and oh so Y2K hair adopted from the talented Max20 and completed just in time for Christmas is the perfect style for you.

Cynosure Jumpsuit – Who needs gloves when this stunning, ruched jumpsuit has them built in? Don’t eat those canapes with your hands though.

Holiday Hostess Earrings – Why have one diamond when you can have rows of them? This shimmering set of earrings is sure to send Judith Ward screaming to her stylist because she didn’t get to wear them first.

Holiday Hostess Necklace – Why not pair those earrings with a dazzling necklace, which will be sure to make you the talk of the party (and Judith’s new nemesis)?

Mimi Dress – A calf-length dress, complete with subtle sequins and a feather trim. Perfect when you want to be a showstopper with some class.

Obsessed Dress – Because they will be obsessed when you walk into the room wearing this asymmetric dress. Why decide which asset to choose when you can show them all in this stunning, velvet gown?

Whistle Note Jumpsuit – A scallop-sequined wrap jumpsuit that’s short on legs but big on holiday sparkle! Perfect for showing off those incredibly cold legs.

BGC

standalones

7 items

not allowed for random

custom thumbnail

the hair mesh belongs to @maxsus

PSDs can be found HERE

my TOU

[spacetelescopescience]

Two observatories united to create this detailed view of the Ring Nebula. Hubble’s crisp vision defines the colorful, detailed view at the center, while the Large Binocular Telescope reveals faint, scallop-shaped material surrounding the ring: https://bit.ly/3zFuSjO

[cmncisspnandmore]

Simon Riley’s been dead before.

He was buried alive to be exact. But he was never part of the plan to fake his own death. Now that he’s standing at the table with the rest of 141 planning out how they’re going to work it out. It hits him like a freight train.

This was need to know. Only task force 141 would know that Simon and Johnny were still alive. And it was starting to leave a sour taste in his mouth.

He could picture it now. Price standing at the door of your shared flat. The moment of realization causing your features to fall. The knowing look you give Price as he asks to step inside.

He can almost hear your broken sob as you fall to the floor, the broken skull plated mask clutched in your hands. Knuckles white from holding it so tight.

He can picture Price crouching down next to you on the floor, as he tries to offer you some comfort. As he feeds you lies about how ‘Ghost died a hero’.

He can imagine the dress you wore to his funeral, the casket empty as they lower it into the hole. He knows which one you’ll pick too. The short black dress with the lace detailing. It falls to your knees, the v neck collar scalloped in little lace skulls that you can only see if you get really close. The metal of his dog tags resting in the valley between your breasts.

His heart aches as he pictures you coming home each night to an empty flat. Always pausing at the hall closet where he stored his duffle bag when he was home. He can picture the way your hands shake when you get to making his side of the bed, trying your best to do military corners like he would.

He can hear your cries behind the bathroom door as if they were his own. The heart wrenching sobs that escape when you least expect it. The kind of tears that cause you to double over and wish you were dead with him because it would be easier than feeling this pain.

Simon’s stomach rolls as he looks around the table at his teammates. Each giving him a small half smile. Price comes around to him, his large hand clasping his shoulder as he looks at him.

“Only for a little while, yeah? Then we’ll get you and Soap back where ya belong.” He promises, and he does. 6 months, 3 days and 14 hours after he gave you the news that Simon was dead, Price knocked on the door of your flat once more.

But this time, it was the shadow of the man behind him that caused you to collapse to the floor. This time it was Simon who held you in his arms and rocked you back and forth on the tile floor of the kitchen for hours as you struggled to make sense of what you were seeing.

The next time you wore a black dress it wasn’t to a funeral but to Soap’s wedding, where he had helped Simon plan his own proposal.

Now when you paused at the hall closet where his duffle bag was kept. It wasn’t for the fear of being reminded he was gone. It was to laugh at the memories of Simon pressing you against the door, promising that there wouldn’t be any sad memories left in its wake.

The next time Simon heard sobbing from behind the bathroom door, they weren’t tears of pain and sorrow. But tears of hope and the promise of new life when the tests came back positive.

Simon Riley had been dead twice before. But with you in his life, he never felt more alive.

[bfictioncorner]

“Come Through the Window, Spend the Night”

Media: Jennifer’s Body (2009)

Rating: 18+ (or R or M)

Pairing: Jennifer Check x fem (afab) reader

Content and warnings: cunnilingus/oral sex, biting mentioned, mommy kink, blood mentioned, sorta cannibalism mentioned, Jennifer having a teasing attitude… mentions of her demonic powers/possession and killing…

Summary: You’ve been wanting to get to know Jennifer a little better throughout all of high school, but now that graduation has come and gone she suddenly seems interested.

Author’s notes: Takes place in the Jennifer’s Body universe as if she never got caught and killed, and just kept doing her thing past graduation. Jennifer is at least 18 or 19 here based off that (and reader is implied to be about the same age). Also there’s a mention of Needy.

Years of color guard and a failed year in cheerleading had you regularly trailing around Jennifer… not intentionally, just circumstantially. Which you didn’t mind at all. Sometimes you spoke casually, even outside of practice, and every time she was sweetly warm (which was saying something, considering she often seemed short to others).

Now that the summer after graduation had rushed upon you, you felt the need to do something to draw closer. There was a magnetism to Jennifer’s presence that skewed what it was you actually wanted to be to her. What were you classified as to begin with? Were you just always gonna be the nice floater friend, or were you trying to reach bestie status? It wasn’t as if she hung around Needy as much anymore…

“Hey, Jen,” you bumbled one day at the end of a post-grad color guard get together. (You didn’t want to be there, but talking to her was the only appeal in it.) “Your hair looks nice. I wanted to ask you where—”

“Yours is too, babes.” She delivered that automatic, white-and-shining performance smile. “I’d like to braid it sometime. It’s so long and smooth.” Her fingers reached out unexpectedly and interlaced with the strands hanging off one of your shoulders. You stiffened at the touch. “You have to tell me what you use! Mane and Tail? Some kind of mask treatment?”

You stumbled, completely taken aback. “Um, well…”

“You can tell me when we do hair together. Wanna come over tomorrow night?”

The urgency to obtain the details of where and when escaped you. “Yes!” was all you could manage.

…And that was how you ended up staying over at Jennifer’s house, sprawling around on her cushy bed late into the night. As promised, she brushed and braided your hair, went into a hair care rant, and then settled into a quiet hum of kicking stuffed animals off the bed and looking through magazines.

The quiet was comfortable enough, allowing you to steal secret glances over the curve of her ear and the black hair that trailed from behind it and over her shoulder… over her chest where the neckline sagged revealingly. Every detail of her form, her presence, made you panting, lips and tongue sticky with dehydration.

“Jen, can I ask you something?” you broached, feeling the need to fill the air. You squirmed around in the purple silk shorts and tank she’d leant you. “Why don’t you hang out with Needy anymore?”

A strange, pallid glaze clouded Jennifer’s eyes, serious and pensive. Her lips moved, a crack in her voice starting and stopping, unsure where to begin. “Sometimes people change. I changed, and Needy didn’t really vibe with it. I maybe also did some not great things… But, like, I had to…”

“Oh, well, I guess that’s part of getting older and growing apart,” you reasoned with a small shrug. Your eyes were hesitant to lock with hers, rushing around everywhere but. “And I’m sure the things you did were hard for her to deal with, but it wasn’t like you killed anyone.”

The flash in Jennifer’s crisp, light eyes—lashes framing and fluttering like thick, black, scalloped lace—appeared remorseful for a brief moment. A blink-and-you-miss-it moment. But that quickly shifted into a playful admittance of guilt. “You know all those murders around here? Specifically all the boys from school that—” Jennifer mimed a slashed throat, drawing her thumb across her neck.

“…Yeah?”

No answer. No verbal confirmation. Just a finger pointing to herself, a sheepish smile to match.

“Bullshit,” you rasped, letting your eyes roll reflexively. “You’re yanking my tail! As if you’re some kind of serial killer…”

“Not a serial killer. I was just… hungry. Like REALLY hungry. Like, on your period hungry.”

“I don’t—” You shook your head, confused.

Jennifer moved as if she was growing impatient in her own explanation. Just cut to the chase. Black hair fanned off her shoulders gracefully as she reached away, into her nightstand drawer, to retrieve a box cutter. It didn’t seem like the type of thing she would own. It also reflected some old red residue crusted on the blade.

Holding up her palm in front of your face, she slashed the thin skin with the angled blade. But as soon as blood had started to drip down in thick trickles, the source had sealed up… making you question what you just saw.

“I’m… different…” she shrugged, tucking a slick chunk of hair behind your ear, something mildly apologetic in her inflection. “I’m… a god…”

“You’re a demon,” you sort of gasped, keeping your tone as light and slightly joking as possible. It was an understatement to say you didn’t know how to react, how to speak… and yet you were drawn in hard.

“Not a demon! Just possessed, silly!” Her sheet-soft expression melded into a giddy grin. The strand she had just tucked behind your ear was now wrapped around her finger. You felt her subtle tug. Every touch was like a carnivore playing with a carcass, or laying claim to some prey.

Your unmasked reaction gave you a hesitant quiver, as if you were winding yourself into a fatal predicament. “God, what are you gonna do to me? Eat me? Drink my blood?” Your tone was surprisingly nonchalant and mocking—so hushed, though desperate. It might have been a mistake if what was concluded about the killing was true… But your time had to come sometime. If you were going to give in, “too late” didn’t matter.

“Eat you, huh?” Jennifer smirked nastily. “All this… softness?” She raked the silken neckline down to expose your breasts, no bra as a barrier. You could feel sticky pink lips and the gentle point of her nose bury into your cleavage. “Gross. How disgustingggggg…” Her voice trailed off, teasing. “You must think I’m some kind of monster.”

Her muffled voice was deliciously appealing, especially the more her lips and tongue suctioned to your skin, sounding oddly vulnerable and messy.

“Maybe I’m into that,” you murmur, biting your lip to maintain control and composure (futile as it would be).

“Say ‘please’,” she whispered against the thin skin against your sternum.

“Please for what?”

Your chest was suddenly cold with the absence of her lips. You could feel your back curve into the plush comforter below, helplessly, warm and suffocating, chest pressing upwards as Jennifer gingerly lowered herself upon you. Her hands braced down your forearms, a gentle sort of touch in her palms, her fingers. There was an itch for violence and domination in the contrasting force put upon you, but all babying smiles the whole while. Her glossy pink and black nails grazed sweetly on your skin, moving from your arms down to your bent legs.

“‘Please’ to start and ‘please’ to stop,” she chimed. In such an impenetrably fast change in position, Jennifer’s body had sort of caged over yours, head lowered to inspect the taper from your ribs to your belly to your hips, and then… “Such a good girl,” her voice fell out, somewhere between a growl and a giggle. She looped her arms under your bent knees in a motion to scoop you under her in a more strategic placement.

“Please?” you stuttered, having an idea where this was going, but nearly blacking out from the reality of it.

“God, so well-behaved too. Mommy likes that.” Her last words trickled off, the whole sentiment nearly lost on you for the fact that her face was buried between your legs, chin somehow pushing the tiny shorts out of her way.

Thighs jolting and cramping all at once, you were sold perpetually on the pleasure and pain of it all. Your eyes remained shut in bumbling, untethered ecstasy, Jennifer’s nose pressing against your clit with just the right pressure… her lips sucking around your soft, fleshy entrance. For a moment, it felt like little pinpricks, little razors, were raking and pushing into your pussy. It didn’t hurt as much as it tortured and overstimulated, causing a greater throb to your clit. You had to convince yourself it was her “regular” teeth and not some fangs that had suddenly sprouted. But you couldn’t be certain of that.

Everything felt muffled as you pushed deeper against the mattress, pink sheets encapsulating your view, skin tacky from the heated friction… Too soon had you felt the warning pressure coursing from your core to further down.

“Jen…” You felt embarrassed, a little shy… Incredibly turned on. “I’m gonna…”

“Go ahead, come for Mommy.” Her command was obstructed by her tongue thickly lapping and curling up from deep within up to the peak of your rosy clit. Saliva strung from her tongue and down her chin like an animal, except her cold eyes had glared at you with wanton intention.

“Please, Jen… Mommy…” you piped up, ashamed, but letting yourself go at the same time. You wanted to squeeze your thighs together at the itching, haze-inducing release, but didn’t dare crush Jennifer’s head. Instead a fragile, satisfied whine escaped, echoing strangely in a voice that didn’t quite sound like your own.

Jennifer’s mouth, glided over your pussy with a final lick, popping off with an unnecessary flair. She dabbed her chin and lips daintily before rearranging her posture and pouncing on you again. “Sorry. I might’ve drawn a little blood, but you tasted so good, babes.”

“I wasn’t sure what kind of, um, eating I was expecting.” You wanted to gulp like a cartoon, adrenaline high and nerves uncertain.

“Don’t worry, I typically only eat boys. But, uh, I can eat you like that again, if you like. Sometime. Whenever….” Jennifer’s blue stare caught yours, her lips curling into a sweet pout, her index finger locked into the spaghetti strap against your clavicle. Her eyes fell to that spot, as if she was considering biting you right there on the collarbone.

“Well, I’m usually free on this night during the week,” you bashfully replied.