flake nail polish

this book is cute and I’ve had it since I was a kid but upon further looking, her feet have like….uncanny palms drawn like human metacarpals. i dont think i’ve seen another case like this exactly, but misunderstanding bird feet is not uncommon

judging on surface value, using comparative anatomy it’s easy to come to the conclusion that birds could have a rather similar structure as mammals (pardon my flaked off nail polish)

but of course birds are birds therefore they need to be needlessly complicated. what you are really seeing in those specimens and the scaled part of a bird’s legs are essentially just the bones we have as our wrist and hand (well, more specifically ankle and foot because hind limb)


and of course birds can’t stop there, we need an assortment of weird toe arrangements too

Grim Reaper Girlfriend

I did a trade with @asketchbookthing and one of her requests was a skeletal grim reaper type, so I decided to make a skeletal girlfriend. I had so much fun writing this one. 

   For the last few weeks, you’ve been coming to the park and sitting on the same bench, watching people and sometimes throwing bread for the birds. You’ve been doing this because it was what your grandfather always did. He would come, sit, watch, throw. This was his seat for the last few months of his life and you want to see that part for just a little bit before your life moves you along.

   Although, you aren’t alone on the bench. Not long after you started sitting there someone else started to come and sit beside you. They’re tall and shadowed, their body draped all in black and face hidden by a large hood. At first, you didn’t talk to them, it seemed a bit too macabre a situation. It was like an episode of the Twilight Zone and you could hear Rod Serling whispering a monologue in your ear.

Keep reading

Alone 2/?

Summary: Helen has lived her entire life lonely (despite her six siblings). The entire world seems to be rigged against her, or maybe she’s rigged against the world. Aline is the first person in years who simply exists and doesn’t demand anything of her. The first person who makes her feel less alone.

(Alternatively the angsty haline fic no one asked for)

Chapter 2/?

Chapter Two:

“The day I give a shit about what people think of me is the day I retire.” Aline said to her cell phone. The exasperated voice of her manager Freeman Mayhew filtered through the line.

“I’m just saying it’s not the best PR for you.”

“That I’m lesbian?”

“Yes that you’re-yes-”

Mayhew was a balding man with a thin gray mustache. His pastimes included complaining about the newest generation and denying science. His voice often sounded like he was about to spew an ignorant comment at Thanksgiving. Aline didn’t have the patience for him on good days, and this was not a good day.

“I just remembered I have a lunch date.” Aline said to the phone, propping her feet up on her desk. She studied the toes of her shiny black shoes while Mayhew droned on for another thirty seconds.

“And some publishers might turn you down-”

Aline groaned and pulled her feet down, swiveling in her chair to look out her window. “As much as I’d love to discuss homophobic publishing companies I really need to go,” She hung up to Mayhew’s muffled protests.

Standing, she texted Alec. Lunch at The Oracle? Honestly she just needed to get out of her apartment.

Aline’s apartment was a whirlwind or papers, used coffee cups, and books with well loved covers, spread out in a mini hurricane. She claimed that the mess added to her “one of the most famous writers in the world” aesthetic.

Yeah that’s right, with three bestselling novels and two bestselling trilogies, Aline Penhallow had her name in the mind of any avid bookworm. It was a little exhilarating, like taking a swig of too strong vodka when you were expecting water, to know that so many people knew your name.

Not that that would amount to much if she didn’t get inspiration for another book or series soon. Aline had been in a writing slump for a year, and people were starting to get antsy.

She sighed and made her way to the door of her apartment, winding through the varied clutter of clothes and rough drafts. The polished wood of her entryway shone like an angled CD in the light from one of the east facing windows. As she stepped out onto her front step she noticed a mangey tabby cat darting across the street, running from the clack of her shiny shoes.

Aline smiled and started down the steps to her car. A small breeze lifted the edges of her leather jacket. The sun beat down on the roof of her blood red BMW. The day was a good day again. For a moment she pretended there was no manager breathing down her neck, or looming deadline for her career. There was only the wheel of her car, the soft roar of the engine, and the music playing over the speakers.

“So at last you’re free

It’s the way you wanted it to be

And the price you paid

To become a woman of today

Is it worth the pain to see the children cry

Does it hurt when they ask for Daddy?” The radio sang. Aline rolled down her window and ran a hand through her dark hair. The trees lining the road cast dapples of light on her cheeks. It was only her and the pavement. Sometimes she dreaming of driving and driving and driving where no one would find her. Driving where the only sounds were the hum of her car and the beat of her heart.

The Oracle was a cafe frequented by hipsters, tourists, and people with nothing better to do. It had the carefully cultivated feel of a place that always had been and always will be. Aline had written her second novel ‘Why Not?’ primarily on one of the cafes’ faded armchairs. She’d also met her best friend Alec when he’d visited The Oracle on one grey rainy Saturday. The entire block was an area where inexplicable magic happened.  

Alec was waiting at one of the tables. As she watched he pulled out his phone- no doubt to check the time- and then glanced up and made eye contact with her. Alec was wearing an incredibly soft looking sweater with several holes in it. Alas, they were not artistically placed fashionable holes, but the holes of a sweater that has been worn within an inch of it’s life.

Aline squeezed into the chair opposite him and grinned.

“What’s up?”

Alec handed her a menu. “The sky.” He deadpanned. She made a face at him.

They ordered their food and lapsed into comfortable silence, occasionally peppered with off hand comments:

“Straight girls with the word gay in their usernames bother me.”

“I fell out of bed this morning and the first thing I said was, ‘I want to die’ and I think that sums up how my day’s been going so far”

“Do you want cheetos? Because I’m getting cheetos after this.”

“Are Republicans…okay…”

Aline winked at Alec over her coffee after he spilled his water and he burst into laughter.

“How are we still functioning human beings?” He asked, after wiping his lap gingerly with a paper napkin.

Aline pretended to think for a moment. “Define functioning.” He grinned at her and leaned back, running his fingers over the scratched surface of the table.

“How’s old Fuckman doing?” Alec asked, in regards to her manager. Aline groaned and began to pick at her nail polish.

“Same old, same old. He doesn’t want me to come out because he thinks it’ll be bad PR.” She said. Flakes of red were spiraling down, down from the tips of her fingers, like blood.

Alec made a noise of disgust in the back of his throat. “Seriously?” He caught the look on her face. “Is he right?”

“I think so. Maybe some countries wouldn’t allow my books to be distributed there if I came out to the public.” Nail polish flakes rained down. “And I want to reach those closeted kids in those countries you know? Make them somehow see that they aren’t alone and that nothing’s wrong with them, and I can do that through my writing but…”

Alec nodded. “It sucks to be in the  closet. And you’re basically still in the closet.”

“Not to the people that matter, but yeah.” She abandoned pulling her nail polish off and swiped the flakes onto the floor.

Alec hummed. “That sucks dude.”

She grinned, “Ah yes, the ever helpful Alec Lightwood everybody.”

“Fuck off.”

Aline’s phone rang, a sharp cold sound in the warmth of the cafe. “That’s my cue.” She stood, brushing off her jeans.

Alec waved. “Text you later.”

As Aline stepped out of The Oracle a feeling of sudden importance washed over her, the waves of an oncoming storm. She shivered at something that had nothing to do with the cold. The way the wind was blowing the leaves of nearby trees seemed to signal a turning event. An event that could leave her for better or for worse.


And now you’re introduced to Aline! She’s a lot less angsty than Helen (but that’s soon to change). Did any of you guys get the meaning of the song that was in this chapter? (Will update soon or whenever I feel like it)

And this is how it always ends: my friends blaming him and
empty tubes of chapstick, and
fingernails, half painted, chipping black flakes
into the carpet.
He is in her bed, and I am naked
on the floor of my shower
weeping for two hours straight, until the water runs cold and
I am late for work, my skin sagging like the circles under my eyes.

It doesn’t end with goodbye,
just fewer hellos, and a silent cellphone,
Relearning how to be alone.

So I will sink, and you will go swimming with her in the atlantic,
and it always ends this way: I am trying to stay away from mirrors,
trying not to hear her name
in conversation. I think of all the ways she is better than me,
and the ones who came before her. I think that I will be alone forever.

And I am afraid of being me. And I am afraid of the freedom.
And it hurts; I am disposable. Sometimes it feels so painfully cyclical.
I am a filler, a snack between meals that you eat
because you are bored.

I flake off
like nail polish. Under the covers of my bed I swear
that this is it. That I will learn to love this. That alone
my bed is a palace, and my books
are little beds themselves. That I will build a web,
outrun hell.

But in the morning, her face still stings behind my eyelids
and I am still drawing wedding rings on my finger in sharpie.
I am learning not to fear me,
I’m sorry.

—  Hell or High Water; Hannah Beth Ragland
3

Dance Legend - Lollypop

I love all the colors from the Candy Flakes collection, but I ordered Lollypop first. I don’t know why, I don’t even like pink that much…Anyways, it’s a gorgeous flakie polish with sheer pink jelly base and orange/gold flakes. I used 3 coats, but my tips are still see-through. I really like it, because it have many faces, it looks totally different in certain lightning. It can be a hot pink see-through jelly, an orange-toned pink flakie or almost a foil effect pink. So it’s really amazing. You can use it as a topcoat too!

When he’s sufficiently nervous (read: so nervous he doesn’t have the presence of mind to hide it from the crew) Gavin will gnaw like hell on his fingernails. Nothing stops him, not shit-tasting nail polish, not mittens or gloves, its him, his teeth, his nails. Expensive manicures are ruined, nail polish flakes away in his teeth.

No one mentions it bc if you telling him he’s doing it he’ll stop doing it and then you won’t know what he’s feeling or thinking BC Gavin ain’t the sharing type anyway fellas. Jeremy, fresh-faced and new then, pointed out Gavin’s ring-twisting (the ring Dan gave him) once and that was the end of that quirk thanks Lil J.

So yeah. Nail-gnawer Gavin Free

Just one yesterday

Sorry this ones kinda sad but i felt a sudden burst of inspiration so here you are! Request part two in my ask box if i should continue this into a mini series.

3:57 am

Beep beep beep

The sound of the heart rate machine beeped in steady rhythm signalling he was still alive.
Barely alive

Beep beep beep

Useless as a pair of shoes without shoes laces you waited. Playing with your fingers. Chipping the faded blue nail polish of your nails or what was left of it. Focused on watching the flaked nail polish fall to the ground. Blue was his favourite colour , no not was still is he’s still alive. Barely but still alive. “ They are catching the next flight out of Sydney” Calum smiled entering the hospital room having just got off the phone with your mother in law. “thank you Calum “ you forced a smile trying to hold back the flow of fresh tears that were ready to flow like a river bursting though a dam.
“ No problem , I know you would have done the same for me” Calum replied leaning down to wrap you in his arms providing warmth and comfort. You were lucky his band mates were so caring. They practically dropped everything as soon as they herd of the accident to be here to support him and you. Accident the word makes your stomach churn. They keep using that word ‘accident’ but it was no accident. A drunk driver got behind the wheel and drove head on into his car. Not on purpose but he should have never been behind the wheel. If the driver had never gotten behind the wheel you wouldn’t be sitting here in the small hospital room watching your husband fighting for his life. You would be cuddled up in bed waiting for him to return home from a night out with the lads with dumb stories about Michael throwing up in a girls purse again or buying everyone in the club a round of drinks. You looked over at your husband his blonde hair had darkened over the years since you meet him. It had grown messily and lacked the up keep it used to get. but you preferred it messy especially when you could tangled your fingers though it. but now it lay flattened against his head. This began to annoy as you knew how much he would hate it if he was awake right now. so lifting yourself of the chair you stood up and began to mess his hair with your fingers. “ i should have gone with him” you spoke in a barely audio voice as you returned to your seat.
“ What so the both of you would be in hospital beds ?” Calum replied “ no I’m glad you stayed at home “ looking over at the worried expression on his face you could tell he was putting on a brave face trying to be strong but deep down he was just as shit scared as you were. “ The doctors seem to think his improving his internal bleeding is decreasing so it’s a good sign that he’s responding well to the surgery.” Ashton informed as he walked into the hospital room.” he will get better (Y/N) I know he will “
“ How can you be so sure Ash ? How can you be so positive ? Can you not see him he can barely breathe on his own ?” you wept watching your poor husband fighting for his life in his comatose state with tubes and wires covering his chest and arms. “ Because I know he’s fighter , He’s never given up on anything , The band , us and he’s never given up on you ! He wont give up now”. A nurse comes into the room checks the monitors and machines he is wired up to and scribbles her findings onto her clipboard and leaves again. You’ve seen them come and go after he got out of surgery. Specialists , doctors and nurses. They aren’t saying much but it’s not hard to tell that the situations not looking bright. But like a fish out of water your useless theres nothing you can do to help him and it’s the worst feeling in the world. On you’re wedding day you promised to protect him but how could you have protected him from this. Grabbing his left hand from where it rested by his side you held it close to you as if when you let it go he might drift away from you. Well, he still might yet, no you cant think like that you’re not going to lose him. Tracing the out lines of his veins your fingers made their way to his ring finger where his golden band sat symbolising his love and commitment to you. It still amazes you everyday that you ended up with such a loving and caring husband. “ Please don’t give up yet Luke “ you begged “ please don’t leave me “

6

This is one coat of Wet N Wild Red Red (I really need to thin it, btw, because it was like frosting a cake) and two coats of the new Sally Hansen Diamond Strength line in Glass Slipper.

Glass Slipper is a really pretty white/clear flakie glitter. It looks great, like icicles or something. A suggested I layer it over red (I was debating red or green) and I think I’ll try it over green (maybe OPI Jade is the New Black) next.

- H.