Another selfie sunday! Yes, I like to make my face violently appear on your screen. Also I have a slightly annoyed cat… You can just see how she’s thinking “ffs why is the human always taking selfies instead of feeding me?!”

Making Up For Lost Time - Chapter 2

Taylor twists a long blonde curl around her finger then let’s go of it quickly to watch it spring up, something she’s fallen into the habit of doing in boring meetings where she doesn’t really have a say in what’s happening anyway, so she focuses her attention on more important matters like such. She’s been sitting here for forty five minutes and has not been asked into the conversation once. Her whole team is present, blabbering away at some promotional deal and arguing over the most frivolous things like how her nails should be painted for this or that. She used to control her own career in the beginning, but sometime last year she just stopped caring about executive decisions and the salaries of those under her. She stopped caring about everything really, well except the fans. They were the only reason she hadn’t burnt out yet, though she could feel her stardom beginning to fade as a dull slow moving figure called depression came into her life. It killed her from the inside out, eating away at her soul like vultures to a corpse. She may as well be a corpse.

She heard them speak but she wasn’t quite listening. It was like she was in a Taylor-sized glass jar, looking in on them and being seen but not acknowledged. The melancholy set in and she became numb to it all. It happened quite often now, the numbness. Her brain moved in slow motion, circling around the concept of dying and solemnly making its way back to Jake, as her hollow figure slumped into a deep sigh. It wouldn’t be so bad to just fade from existence, but she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t do that without hurting anyone. Did she ever really love him? Could she have? She doesn’t know. All her emotions have become as dull as the razor blade she is tempted by so often. Except she isn’t fifteen anymore, she couldn’t get away with that. She’s an adult. She has to be a role model for all the little girls out there. That means she has to be brave.  

The only time she had actually felt something this whole year had been a few weeks ago with that young model, Karlie. It couldn’t happen though. She is a pawn in the Hollywood game, and dating a girl? That would ruin people’s perception of her.  Imagine what the magazine headlines would be. All the moms’ of those little six year olds would shun her or send her hate mail. She couldn’t show her face in Nashville.  It’s too much. The walls are closing in. She can’t be here right now. It’s like the glass jar holding her captive is filling with water and she’s forgotten how to swim. She’s desperate for air, yet somehow obtaining it might just be the equivalent of drowning.

Just as she was about to lose it completely, the sound of sharp heels clicking against a tile floor enters her subconscious. An awkward fourteen year old is wobbling down a runway in stilettos, her laughter ringing out loudly as she stumbles over her own two feet. “I think you have the wrong girl, Marco. I only know how to be graceful in ballet slippers.”

“Nonsense,” a chic looking man in an eccentric pantsuit quipped, “You just have to learn to channel your inner swan. Dancers are the best at this, but it takes concentration”. With that, the determined teenager stood up straight and delivered the fiercest, most elegant strut the small time model manager had ever seen. As she neared the end of the catwalk she turned to strike a pose and ended up stumbling again, but she got right back up as if nothing had ever happened. Returning back to where the flamboyant man stood, a forest fire reigned free in her heart, tearing down everything in its path and shining boldly through her searing eyes. She did it. She had mastered her walk.


Taylor focused on the wall. The wall was not moving. The wall was real. She snuck a look at her watch to find herself completely dumbfounded with its reading. Had she truly been sitting in this room, staring at this wall for the last half hour? She touched her forehead to find she had broken out into a light sweat. Something had happened, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Limpid voices carried on around her as she unraveled her brain searching for an answer. In favor of not driving herself mad, the ruminative wanderer decided to hone in on the present conversation happening around her.

They were talking about some Kennedy boy who has apparently already been contacted and has agreed to staging a fake romance with her from July to September of next year. They will meet privately in June for a formal introduction, though the requirements of both parties will be set in stone in the form of a ‘fair and compromising contract’ prior to said meeting. Looking at Taylor’s current situation, it sounded like hell, but if she denied the offer her team may suspect something. When it comes time to sign that document she tries not to think about what just flashed through her mind earlier in the meeting, whatever that may have been. She pushes it away and focuses on something else, anything else. The fans. She was doing this for the fans.

The cold wind stings against Taylor’s face as she makes her way out into the chilly October air, curls tucked away under her warm pink, rosy colored knit beanie. She had signed the contract, hoping for the best, yet ultimately, her decision was fueled by fear. She tried to convince herself it couldn’t be that bad. He was supposedly a really nice guy, though he did agree to date a girl just for fame and money. Not that she’s really in a place to judge, as she was pretty much doing the same, just for much more important reasons. The main one being that it was the safest option for her and Karlie both. That girl is so young and already has such a successful modeling career. Taylor couldn’t take all that away with some lesbian scandal. If only there was a way to just stop thinking about her.

While climbing into a private cab she didn’t deserve to own, Taylor thought about the way the sun first felt on her bare skin as a child when her family took trips to the beach in New Jersey. She would say “Mommy, why does the sun hurt us?” and her mother would respond, “Because sometimes the things that shine the brightest can’t help but burn things, like your skin if you don’t let me put sun lotion on you!” That’s what being famous was like. She would put everything she has into her music, and be able to stand on that stage and shine brighter than any star in the universe, but it came with a list of people she would burn, including herself. She didn’t want to burn Karlie, ever. It’s better to just let go before she can become too attached, because there’s no amount of sun lotion to protect the model from Taylor’s harmful rays.

Just as the pretty brunette began to fade from her thoughts, she arrived to a bouquet of assorted flowers on her doorstep that seemed to be handpicked. There was even a note written in the same handwriting as the phone number on the month old plane ticket Taylor kept in her purse.

I’m not the best poet

Honestly I suck at this

But I know you like poems

So I’m trying my best

To do what I can

So maybe I can see you again


She couldn’t help but laugh at the feeble attempt at writing the girl had shown, though it warmed her heart that she would remember such a small detail brought up in conversation. She reread it over and over again, her blue clouds spilling raindrops down her lonely cheeks. They longed to be pecked by those soft pink lips she had the pleasure of meeting. She wanted to see her again so badly, but she knew her boundaries. She was to remain single until next summer when she will ‘fall in love’ with Conor Kennedy and date him publicly for at least two months, possibly three. This was a game and she had to play fair. Though she couldn’t help but wonder, why was everyone else allowed to cheat? In that moment, she broke the rules for the very first time in her entire life, and it felt incredible.

anonymous asked:

Wait I'm super confused what's the '07 VMA conspiracy?

Oh my child, you’re not ready…

- how many times they rehearsed
- how many times they filmed
- how many times they had to edit hair and costume
- how many times she nailed it
- how many times she didn’t
- when was the final dress rehearsal
- what exactly was she supposed to wear
- what Criss Angel had planned
- why Justin just had to wish her well right before the show cough cough
- why some really slow fans assume she practiced it once when the whole point of rehearsing is to do it many times until you get it right that you can show the producers who can then okay and sign off on the whole routine to begin with

I made a tutorial for all of you on how to do these gemstone/rupee nails! The concept was originally inspired by a wood block painting tutorial done by Fabric Paper Glue, but I just loved the illusion and look of it so much that I wanted to adapt it to nail art!

This tutorial requires only three colors: Your basic color, black, and white. You will be mixing these colors to create the 6 shades needed to complete the look. In the top right corner, you can see that I’ve illustrated a sort of “paint by number”. The number 3 shade is the color right out of the bottle. The number 1 shade has the most white mixed in (I used about 3 globs of white polish), and your number 6 shade has the most black (I used two small globs of black polish). Be careful when you first mix in your black polish - black can be very overpowering and will make the color very dark very fast! Remember: you can always add more as needed!

Step 1: paint your entire nail with your #3 shade. Allow polish to dry completely (that is super important! if you don’t allow it to be completely dried, you will get yucky marks from the tape later on)
Step 2: take two pieces of striping tape and line two parallel areas running longways on either side of your nail. These two areas should be more narrow than the center area.
Step 3: fill in the left area with your #1 shade (lightest), and the right area with your #6 shade (darkest). It’s okay if its a little messy - that’s why you have the tape! Allow polish to dry completely before pealing up the tape.
Step 4: take two more pieces of striping tape and tape off two more parallel areas, this time running shortways.
Step 5: fill in both areas with your #4 shade (just slightly darker than the base). Try not to paint over the areas you created in Step 3. If it’s a little messy, that’s okay, but I would recommend trying not to paint to the outside edges of the nail. This will help later when you are painting your corners. Again, wait for the polish to dry completely before removing the tape.
Step 6: Taking your #2 shade (just slightly lighter than your base), create a trapezoid shape at the top and bottom corner on the left side. This part can get a little tricky to figure out the angle that your lines should go. It helps to remember that each shape you are creating on the nail will be a trapezoid (i.e. bigger on the outside edge and smaller on the inside edge).
Step 7: repeat Step 6 using your #5 shade on the right side of the nail. 

Finish off with topcoat and your gems are ready!

Let me know if you have any questions about these nails! I can’t wait to see your nails when you try them!

Keep up with LookAtHerNails on instagram

okay but let’s say “women can be sexist!” okay fine sure. so a woman is sexist, she says, “i hate men,” you say, “fuck off lady,” go home kinda hurt that she’s mean. the next day you will interact with plenty of women who aren’t sexist. that one woman becomes a story you tell your buddies and everyone laughs. your life doesn’t change.

this is the reverse of how women live. at every interaction, our bodies are ready to flinch. when a man says, “i hate women,” most of us don’t say, “fuck off,” we feel our hearts beat faster and our hands tremble. we go home panicked. happy to be in one piece. happy we made it out of there. we don’t talk about you. you are not the first person to disrespect us, and you won’t be the last. you are the scar every single one of us carries. the next day, all but a few of the men we talk to will carry your face: our boss who constantly checks out his secretary, the man in the cubicle next to us who is always making sex jokes and saying, “what’s wrong sweetie?” when we ask for help, the man down the hall who likes to put cups on his chest and sing out “oh no i broke a nail!” and toss his hair and show that female is stupid and clumsy and everyone always laughs but the air in our lungs is so tight we can’t swallow it.

let’s say some women are sexist. she yelled at you for holding the door open. she told you men are babies. she made a post on the internet saying “even if some of us might be, we are nowhere near as dangerous to you as you are to us”. she is one out of sixteen hundred.

let’s say some men really are nice guys. he doesn’t get angry if you snap at small things. he doesn’t call you hysterical if you start crying. he is constantly unlearning everything sexist that has been taught to him. he knows that a post which hurts his feelings won’t ever equate to someone following him home. he is one out of sixteen hundred.

men say, “i’m not a sexist, i married a woman.” men say, “i’m just playing devil’s advocate.” men say, “you don’t get how bad rejection is.” men say, “i’m not one of them, i’m a nice guy and if you let me fuck you, you’d know it.”

women say, “i hate men.”

men say, “its not my fault the system is like this. and besides, we have problems too.”

women say, “please, i just want to walk down the street without being worried what you will do”

men say, “if you want equal, can i punch you?”

—  I’m sorry if you were ever hurt by something someone angry said. It doesn’t mean you have any idea what it’s like to live like this. You cannot equate a rotten apple in a bushel to a swarm of wasps, one of which might be a pacifist.  // r.i.d
Brass nails and why I have them.

Ever since last night I’ve been getting a lot of questions about my brass fingernails. First of all. NO, they are not prosthesis. i have them for a specific reason.

Here’s what they look like:

another view 

HERE’s is the reason:

I bite my nails all the time. constantly, idly, without thinking.

If you’re like me, and love giving back scratches, then having no nails is a problem:

Here’s how chose to fix this problem:

Shoot bullet, collect casing.

cut bullet.

The bullets have a taper inside. we will want the broader side of the taper to be outward on our nails, and the thinner side against the rear of the nail so there is no jutting up of material when they are glued on. Here’s what that taper looks like, one cylinder is flipped over to show how thick it is at the base:

clip, bend, and trim into a nail shape:

sand for a fine (BUT NOT CUTTING SHARP) edge on the front and smooth edges.

Glue with Krazy glue, it’s the best.


Amazing. the nails will stay on for about a week at a time before working themselves loose, when that happens just scrape the glue off and reapply.

Unless you happen to have reached into the closet and snagged it on your shelves and broke the nail off on your pinky cuz holy god that hurt. reapply anyways.

Also these work as screwdrivers, knives and various other multi-tools at the tip of your finger, so that’s pretty rad. I don’t know how odd i should feel about having done this, but i must say; it’s handy as hell and really fun to have nails again.

OH, also you can shine them with “brasso” or something but screw that, I’ve tried that and they get mirror bright and really annoyingly shiny. not my thing.


in·ti·ma·cy (noun)  

1. close or warm friendship or understanding; personal relationship 2. a close association with or detailed knowledge or deep understanding of a place, subject, period of history, etc.