My first time using a nail form and making almond/stilleto nails with gel. Gotta say, I’m pretty proud of myself. These are the best nails I’ve ever done. I used a color changing polish that changes with sunlight (UV light) I put my ring finger under my UV lamp then took some photos. It changes from a pretty purple color to a wine red. Love both the colors so much 💜❤💅 follow my nail IG: lvxnails
“Mother wants us to meet foreign royals?!” Siegbert gulped, anxious. He could not embarrass himself in front of his mother’s friends!
Walking quickly in front of the siblings, Jakob nodded, escorting them to the portal. “That is correct, Your Majesty. I shall give you the details of their first meeting as we head to the portal.”
“Portal?!” Kana beamed beside his brother, almost running to catch up to both of their long legs. “Are we going into someone’s deeprealm?” Before anyone could reply, he gasped, taking both hands to his mouth and stopping. “Oh no! I forgot my dragonstone! Can I go back to get it? Please?” He tugged at his brother’s sleeve.
Siegbert glanced at the butler, who flashed them a glare. They were not to keep Kamui waiting. He turned back to his brother patted the young prince’s head, trying to smile. “We do not have much time, Kana. Besides, they might take offense in a dragon suddenly transforming in their garden.”
When Dick first moved into the manor he would never tell Alfred or Bruce whenever he got injured playing, not because he was afraid to, he was simply used to small injuries from acrobat training. The first time Bruce found Dick walking the halls of the manor with skinned knees, bleeding palms, and bruises peppering his shins, Bruce will still deny to this day that in a state of panic, he picked up the small boy tucking him under his arm like a small dog, and carried him through the manor shouting for Alfred. Finally asking him how he got hurt Dick simply shrugged and said, “ I was just practicing my quadruple back flip off the…the” he gesture to the chandelier with bandaid covered fingers “the big. Light. Lamp. Thing.” Bruce is just stuck staring at the small child he took into his home, because /holy shit this child can do a quadruple back flip/ and also because /OH MY GOD, ALFRED HELP ME THIS CHILD JUST ATTEMPTED A DANGEROUS UNSUPERVISED STUNT OFF MY CHANDELIER, WHAT DO I DO??/ Alfred is just packing up his first aide kit shaking his head, “looks like you will be getting a taste of what it was like to raise you Master Bruce.”
Groaning you shifted slightly against the bed, your arm
reached out for Jason only to feel slightly warm sheets under your hand. He is probably in the bathroom, you
thought snuggling deeper into your pillow, yawning tiredly you curled your body
into a loose ball.
The sound of breaking glass made you jolt from bed, your
fingers fumbled with the lamp on the bedside table until you were finally able
to turn it on “Jason?” You called out stepping from under the covers, when no
response came you walked across the hardwood floor to the door which was
Walking out into the dark hallway you looked in both
directions for any signs of Jason, all you found was a long dark passageway,
letting out a shaky breath you gripped the railing on the staircase and slowly descended
it. As soon as your foot hit the bottom step you were grabbed roughly from your
left “Jason, you never told me you had a girlfriend.” A deep voice chuckled,
his hot breath fanned the back of your neck making your eyes screw shut in
“Don’t, please don’t hurt her.” Snapping your eyes open a
bloodied, bruised Jason rested on his knees a few feet in front of you, men
standing tall on each side of him gave you a smug smirk “All I was is the money
Jason, give me that and I won’t hurt her.” Your brows furred together, money?
”I don’t have it here, I have to go to the bank and take it
out.” Jason’s eyes were pained and glossy as he stared intently at you, a
whimper passes your lips at the sharp pain suddenly brought to your back when
the man behind you buried the barrel of his gun deep into the small of your
back “That’s not going to work Jason, I want my money and I want it now.” He
“I don’t have that much here, the most I could give you
right now is half.” He bargained, his tone was low and submissive “I don’t want
half Jason, you should’ve thought of this before you borrowed it from me,
either you give me the money now or I kill her.”
“No,” Jason weakly whipped his head up “No please don’t bring
her into this.” Silent tears outlined your cheeks at the reality of his words “Kill
me, let her go please.”
The man stayed silent for a moment before removing the gun
from your back “You have until tomorrow to get me the money, no more games
Jason, you choose this life and now you are going to face the reality of it, I
will kill her if that money isn’t in my hands tomorrow.” A shiver ran
throughout your body at his threat, he winked your way before him and the two
men disappeared, leaving the house.
Jason was quick to stand to his feet, pulling you into a
feverish tight hug he apologized repeatedly.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that baby, so sorry.”
Pairing: Gabriel x Reader Words: 1805 Requested by @angelwriter3895:
Requests are up? Awesome. I was hoping for a
Gabriel x reader where the reader has been hurt a lot by men. She no longer
trusts them and e tries to get with her. Happy ending please with a little
angst but mostly comfort. Smut if you want :)
Warning: Smut…it’s so fluffy!
into the living room and saw Dean, Sam, and Gabriel sitting around together. It
was still weird to see the guys okay with hanging out with Gabriel. After
everything he had put them through, you would have thought they would
completely despise him, but he actually hung out with them quite a bit.
Cupcake,” Gabriel smiled at you.
back, “Hi, Gabe.”
you up to?” he asked.
to get a snack,” you said, “What are you boys up to?”
figure out this next hunt,” Sam said, “Gabriel’s helping. Might be a tough
need me, I can help.”
great hunter, Sugar,” Gabriel said, “We could probably use you for sure. Come
sit with me,” he patted the spot on the loveseat next to him.”
and sat down, “Don’t get any idea, Angel Boy,” you said.
what?” he asked, leaning toward you a little bit.
what, Gabriel,” you said.
chuckled, “You’re adorable when you get flustered.”
Ooh write something about the Adrienette friendship? They get to know each other better? idk how you want to write this.
At approximately three in the morning, Adrien receives several text messages in quick, noisy succession.
Plagg, the glutton, doesn’t so much as twitch from where he’s perched on Adrien’s pillow, fast asleep. Jealousy flutters through Adrien. Since becoming Chat Noir, he’s grown to be an absurdly light sleeper, always waking at the slightest sound. Plagg never does. He’d probably sleep through the apocalypse unless Adrien bribed him into waking with Camembert.
You woke up to the sound of a female scream in the room close to your own. You automatically tried to grab your Seraph Blade, that always
laid on the nightstand besides your bed, but your fingers met with a lamp that
struck to the floor with a loud crash. At the same time you noticed that your hand looked different. Confusion clouded your mind, but before you could do something about it, you heard someone run through the halls outside your room. You jumped out of bed and put yourself in a fighting stance, looking to the door, staring at … yourself. “What the …” Your voice, clearly not female, made yourself fall back into silence and you look back down at yourself. Alec and Magnus, probably woken by the scream, came running into the room. While Alec just looked at you and then your unknown twin sister, Magnus orbited the woman, before he focused back on you. “Why are you shouting the institute together (y/n)?”, Alec asked your double. “I didn’t”, you insisted with a way too deep voice, which only led to the other three looking back to you. You also realized why Alec had first looked at you instead of your new twin. “Jace?”, You threw a caution. “(Y/N)?”, retorted your other self, and both your eyes went huge at the same time. “Okay what’s going on? Why are you me? And I’m you?” “I have no idea,” claimed Jace and smiled. “But it is actually not so bad for you.” With a warning in your eyes you were looking at him, but that only tempted him to wink at you, which even looked sexy in your body. “I always thought that you wanted to be more like me.” Closing your eyes, you praying for enough strength to not punch yourself into the face. A giggle from the corner in which Magnus was standing, saved you from it and made you realized what was going on. Angry you stared the Warlock down, who was standing with his back to you, playing innocently with his earring. “MAGNUS”
Idk if you still do the shipping thing but if you do could you please ship me? I like to read, write, sing and listen to music. Sometimes I'm really shy and quiet but other times I will not shut up. Thanks!
I’d ship you with Cas!
Ever since Cas caught you singing in the bunker he could not get enough of your voice, he would constantly ask you to sing for him no matter what time of the day it was, he would listen with his eyes closed just focusing on your beautiful voice and after you had finished he would tell you how much he loved your singing. Also, whenever you feel like reading a book, Cas would instantly click his fingers so the lamps in your room came on, move you into a comfy position full of blankets and would fly away and not come back until he had that particular book in his hand for you to read.
A soulmate AU with ereri where every mark made on one person's skin appears on the other's too, and Eren is a forgetful person who writes reminders about everything on his hands/arms while Levi prefers to keep his skin meticulously clean
Levi’s never felt like his life is devoid of anything, but, as his eyes land on the fresh blue ink that’s appeared on his inner wrist - ‘cat food’ - it seems the universe just doesn’t tire of reminding him that he very well is missing something. Well, in its opinion, anyway.
Everybody is supposed to have a soulmate, or so they say, and Levi faces the evidence of his very own nearly every day. Random words and phrases mark Levi’s hands and wrists; on rare occasions, words have shown up in different spots, like the crook of Levi’s elbow, or his abdomen, once, though he hadn’t noticed it until it had already almost faded away. They only last a few minutes to begin with, which is about the only saving grace in all of this.
Some people cherish the marks that appear on their skin, those brief glimpses into their soulmate’s life before their lives collide - hopefully, that is; some people never find their soulmate, be it tragedy or simply life not bringing them together - but Levi, well, he could really do without. His soulmate uses his body like a canvas, scrawling the most mundane notes and reminders to himself without a care in the world that he is marking up somebody else’s body as well.
Before he gets into bed, Levi’s gotten into the habit of roving his eyes over his arms and hands, turning them over in the dim light of his small bedroom. It’s not that he wants anything new to appear, but something inside drives him to do it.
Nothing else has appeared since the note about cat food earlier, at least, not that he’s noticed. Levi sits down with a sigh, closing his eyes. Not once has he ever written anything upon his own skin; yet, it’s been marked again and again by someone he’s never met, may not ever, even.
He stretches out his hand to flick off the lamp, fingers already poised and ready, when his gaze lands on newly written words across the back of his hand.
‘If I have a soulmate, they must really hate me’
Levi stares, unblinking. There is something so incredibly bizarre about seeing those words on his hand, in that familiar scrawl, that it’s sent his skin buzzing.
As the ink grows a little fuzzy, on its way to fading, Levi runs his fingers over the words, leaves them there. He closes his eyes again, waits until the thrum of his skin subsides.
He flicks off the lamp without casting another glance to his hand, closing his eyes before his head hits the pillow. Despite himself, his heart beats steadily in his chest, keeping him from sleep.
Title: Mr. and Mr. Jones Genre: Romance, Action Word Count: 3, 042 Rating/Warnings: T, references to sex and language Summary: An assassin married to an assassin is a recipe for disaster. Mr. and Mrs. Smith Parody.
Alright everyone LISTEN UP. This is yet another example of why you don’t touch a lamp with your bare hands. The oil on your fingers transfers to the glass, get really fucking hot and then can make the lamp explode. Now this particular example is a minor explosion but please note, this explosion can hold a lot of energy and can seriously hurt someone. Either way the lamp WILL blow and this was the THIRD lamp of the day that blew because someone put their grimy fingers all over the lamp when replacing it. This is extremely annoying because a) these fuckers are expensive and, in this case, b) the theatre I’m working in has shit-pore access to the lights and it takes a MINIMUM of five minutes to access and change a lamp when they die. We are in tech right now so we had to stop three times for a least five minutes each to change lamps that had exploded because someone didn’t know what they were doing. I know I’m preaching to the choir, but for the love of god if you’re not sure about something or don’t know how to do something PLEASE ASK! Doing something wrong can cause someone else a lot of time to fix it, and in some cases, a body part (thankfully that didn’t happen today, but I’ve heard the horror stories). And for those of you who see someone doing something wrong, SAY SOMETHING! At worst you’ll embarrass yourself a little if you’re wrong and learn something new, and at best you’ll save others, and possibly yourself, trouble down the road.
OH MY GOD, NO PLEASE, ALLOW MY SUFFERING TO COME IN THE FORM OF ANGSTY AND FLUFFY HEADCANONS
Imagine Kylo Ren trying to make a ring for you. He doesn’t quite understand why people give each other rings; he just knows that they do, and he feels like it would be the right thing to do at this point. He’s gathered some supplies. And by supplies, I mean that he literally cut off a piece of metal from a part of the ship and took it to his room. He uses his lightsabre and cuts it down until he has a sphere, and then he carves away until a rough ring has been formed. From there, he tirelessly shapes it over night until he has a ring. It’s important that he does it by hand instead of the Force. You deserve the effort. By dawn, the ring sits in front of him–simple but shining and smooth.
He takes the ring with him, keeping it on a chain around his neck that’s tucked into his tabard. Honestly, he has no idea how to present it. He once, as a child, saw an engagement between two people that seemed far too elaborate and artificial, so anything public is out of the question. Besides, he’s not even sure what the ring means. Something permanent. He knows that much. But his understanding of anything else rests on shaky ground. So he keeps it hidden, biding his time, thinking too much, getting progressively more terrified of what he has created.
Days pass by, and the ring is still around his neck–a cold weight against his chest. His hand leaps to it whenever you speak, whenever you pass one another in the hallways, whenever you kiss. He’s terrified that you will undress him and see it, so he becomes distant. Moody. Withdrawn. If no one sees it, then it’s not real. Such magical thinking, but his mind isn’t working that well, anyway. He’s too damned blinded by how beautiful you are and by your fingers that pull at his hood and unlock his helmet so that you can kiss him. It’s far too much. Far, far too much to handle.
And as this goes on, you know that he’s hiding something, though you fear the worst. You fear another person. You fear how he is responding to the Force. You fear how he trembles as you unwrap the tattered cloak and hood from his shoulders and remove his belt. You fear the way his breath hitches as your fingers move up his sides and pull at his tabard. You fear the way his eyes dart, the way he lurches back into the wall and moves your hands back down. You want to know what’s wrong. Is it you? What has happened to him?
You sit him down, and Kylo begins to sweat bullets. He looks pale as though he’ll vomit, and right as you’re about to break into tears, he reaches for something around his neck. A silver chain is drawn from beneath his padded armour and tabard, and you see a metal ring hanging, slowly moving back and forth like a pendulum. He yanks the chain, and it snaps with a few links falling down to the floor. The ring sits in his ungloved hand, and he holds it as though it will catch fire–as though it’s a heavy bomb or a delicate bird–something to be protected.
Slowly, he glances from the ring to you and back, hand trembling all the while.
”It’s for you,” he finally says, voice shaky.
You can feel your breath catch in your chest, and your hand stretches forward to pick up the ring and swivel it in your fingers against the lamp light. It’s warm from having been against his skin and just barely shines. His hands come to meet your own, and with a determined precision, he slides the ring onto your finger. You stare at the ring, somewhat in disbelief and somewhat in awe, because you can tell that he made it–not because of the imperfections that cast tiny shadows in the dim light, but because you can simply feel it. You can feel it in your bones that he has sculpted this with his own hands so that it can adorn your own.
“Why?” You don’t mean it unkindly.
Kylo swallows hard, and his hands wrap around your own. “Because… it seems right. Because I love you.”
You can feel your lips curl into a smile, and you stretch forward to wrap your arms over his shoulders and put your hands in his hair. He’s trembling as you cock your head to the side and kiss him fully, passionately. Your hands run through his hair, grabbing fists full as you drag him on top of you.
It takes all of his effort, but he pulls his lips from yours, still shaking but no longer pale after a good minute of your kissing. He looks down upon you–looks at the light reflecting off your eyes, the slope of your nose, the way your lips have filled out and the blood that has rushed to your cheeks.
“Is this all right?” he asks, pulling your hand from his hair and turning the ring on your finger. “I don’t know what I’m asking… What this all means.”
“But you gave me a ring anyway?”
He could so easily see into your mind and get an answer, but he wants to hear it come from your lips. He wants to be reassured that this ring and whatever in the hell it means is wanted, appreciated, welcomed. And once again, you’re smiling.
“What is it that you truly want to hear, Kylo?” you ask whilst placing your hands on his shoulders.
His eyes drift to the side of the room but then find their way back to yours. “I want to hear that you’re mine… that you’ll be mine.”
You kiss him again, not as deeply but without any less passion than before.
“Yes,” you finally whisper, and he lets out a sigh of relief. “But only if you, too, will be mine.”
Water rushed over you, filling your ears as you squeezed your eyes, desperate to keep the liquid out of them. Sand scraped against your skin as the tide dragged you back. You tried desperately to push your head above the water, the need for oxygen making you struggle against the ocean. You awoke suddenly, gasping for breath. You squirmed, kicking off all of the covers, letting the cool air of the hotel room wash over you. You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. It was then you noticed Luke had rolled over and had his blue eyes trained on you. Morning light filtered through the spaces in the curtains, showing Luke’s eyebrows furrowed in concern.
“Hey, hey, are you alright?” Luke questioned, gently rubbing his hand up and down your arm. The heat radiating onto your skin from his palm felt comforting and grounding after your dream. You took a moment to close your eyes and continue to breathe.
“Wha-Where am I?” Jason called out, his blue eyes still dazed from sleep.
His heart pounded. Roman instincts called him to search his surroundings with haste—eyes, nose, ears and mouth all working together to solve his problem. He scratched at the warm sheets under him and blinked the grime in his eyes away. So, he was in a bedroom.
Wait a minute.
Was he near a beach? That couldn’t be. He was just in the clearing a while ago, playing Capture the Flag—why did his nose itch with the smell of the sea that seemed so close by?
After rubbing at his eyes again, Jason’s fingers reached out in search for his glasses. He fiddled with a side table and felt the cool golden rims. He nudged them onto his face just in time for a door to open and a dirty shirt to be thrown right at him.
“You’re up,” Percy called out, right as Jason caught his dirty orange camp shirt. He set it aside and frowned at the other boy. “Took you long enough.”
“We’re in your cabin,” Jason grumbled, his eyesight finally clearing. With wonder, he took in the alien antiquities that littered the rough stone walls. Sea shells and corals were embedded onto the floor, and tridents were sculpted into the corners. Five bunkbeds were pushed to make room for the large double bed in the middle of the room, and the patterns of waves were etched onto the wood of every piece of furniture. “That’s why it smelled funny.”
“Hey,” Percy said, putting on a shirt. “You’re just a guest here, so watch it.”
“Didn’t say the cabin was ugly, Jackson,” Jason said. “It’s actually pretty awesome. I feel like I’m underwater… again. Do you remember–”
“That time I got poisoned and barfed out every meal for three days on the Argo II? Yeah, don’t ever bring that up.”
Jason laughed. “But really, though, your cabin’s cool.”
Even if the sea was nowhere near Jason’s domain, the cabin somehow felt comforting—it was so Percy. Being his friend for awhile now, it seemed laughable to Jason that he’s only seen the inside of Cabin Three now. As the abalone chandeliers glowed and cast some weird watery refracted light against the walls, he took in every inch of the room, amusement clear in his eyes.
“Thanks,” Percy grinned, flopping onto the bed beside Jason. He watched as Percy blinked his hair dry—man, that was definitely a useful power. “Tyson snazzed the place up awhile ago. Ever since he heard that Annabeth would be staying with me now, he put more than the usual effort on decors.”
“Figures,” Jason said. He fingered the mermaid lamp that was set on the bedside table. Percy began throwing his dirty shirt up in the air and catching it repeatedly.
“Bro?” Jason asked, as if only now realising he was in filthy clothes. “Why am I here again?”
“You got knocked out in Capture the Flag,” Percy laughed, eyes only straying once to look at Jason smugly. “As usual.”
“I’m pretty sure you spent half your time on the Argo II unconscious.”
“Just being truthful,” Percy smiled, catching his shirt one last time before throwing it into the hamper beside the bathroom window.
“Why am I in here then? Shouldn’t I be in the infirmary or something?” Jason asked, sitting up. As soon as his head left the pillows, his sight wavered and he felt like a thousand bricks were repeatedly being dropped on his skull. “Ouch, jeez.”
“You probably have a concussion—here.” Percy handed him a square of ambrosia. “Will told me to give you an aspirin if the ambrosia doesn’t heal it away.”
“I’ll be fine,” Jason said, nipping at the golden square.
“Maybe, but getting knocked out so many times would probably have a long-term effect, right?”
“So does being an ass.”
“Point taken, Grace,” Percy nodded in acceptance. He laughed. “But seriously—since this was a Greeks/Romans/Hunters thing, the infirmary’s cramped. Will’s got Nico fetching bandages a hundred miles per hour, and they couldn’t really spare you a bed since you were just knocked out.”
“I’ll pretend that doesn’t hurt,” Jason smiled, taking a bite out of the Ambrosia.
“Your cabin was locked, and we were disqualified anyway, so I brought you here,” Percy shrugged. “You haven’t been here before, anyway. Thought it would be cool if you saw the cabin.”
“If that’s the case, thanks, dude,” Jason said. He finished his square and attempted to sit up again. “Whoops… definitely gonna need that aspirin then.”
Percy jogged to the opposite end of the room and took out a bottle from a chest, throwing it to Jason. “Catch.”
Popping a couple pills into his mouth, he leaned back into the pillows and closed his eyes. A thought nagged at him and forced one eye to open. “Yo, why were we disqualified again?”
“Powers,” Percy grinned, settling beside Jason again. “Giant lightning hurricane tsunami storm—with dead skeleton zombie things running around. We would’ve won if Reyna hadn’t pointed out that—”
“Wait—we?” Jason asked.
“We: Me, you and Neeks.” Percy said. “Big boys of the big three. Hazel opted out and Thalia headed the hunters. Remember? They needed to balance the power so they made us our own group.”
“Four flags? Four teams?”
“Yup,” Percy grinned. “Pretty cool. And you missed half of it when Thalia threw a rock at your head.”
“She did not—”
“My eyes don’t lie, Jase.”
“I’m gonna take her flying, or Zeus help me.”
“Now look who’s being the ass!” Percy laughed. “But before you pester your sis with her fear of heights, you need a shower dude. Annabeth’s gonna kill me if she sees Jason grime all over the sheets.”
Jason harrumphed and sat up gently, smiling when his head didn’t spin.
“Towels are on the left cabinet and I lent you some clothes on the counter.”
“Thanks, man,” Jason said. Before he turned around to enter the bathroom, he shrugged his shoulders. “Hey Perce?”
“What’s up?” Percy asked, curiosity forcing one of his eyebrows to arch.
“You’re—You know that you’re one of my best friends, right?” Jason asked, the tips of his ears suddenly turning pink. He didn’t know why he had to do it now or why he had to do it here, but he felt the need to do it in a spur of the moment type of thing. Call him cheesy, but maybe Aphrodite’s gotten into his veins somehow. It just hit him that Percy’s done tons of nice things, and Jason wanted to return all the favours… maybe calling him out as one of his best friends would be the start of his payback. “I mean, I have Reyna, Piper, Leo and Nico too, but you’re like the brother I never had.”
Percy smiled—and it strayed far from his usual sarcastic and snarky smiles. It was genuine, and it comforted Jason that he wasn’t embarrassed or revolted by his admittance. If Percy went all, “No homo” on him, Jason would have probably punched him in the face. In his own cabin.
“Same here, bro,” Percy nodded. “It’s like you’re a blonde Tyson—who hugs more and doesn't give me cool weapons.”
“I’ll take that,” Jason grinned, holding out his arms. “Hug for our DTR?”
“Don’t use DTR, and maybe when you’re not covered in Centaur poo,” Percy suggested. And he laughed until Jason was holed in the bathroom, content with the relationship he had just set in stone. Piper would be proud.