studded nail

While some apartment and dorm maintenance teams are responsible and arrive in a timely manner, it’s always smart to have a backup plan. 

My dad gave me this toolkit when I first moved out, and it has helped me fix everything from clogged drains to leaking shower heads. 

Here’s what I keep in my toolkit:

  • Electric drill and different sized drill bits
  • Screw drivers (two, one for each type of nail head + and -)
  • Hammer
  • Assorted nails 
  • Studs (these are used to secure nails when your apartment has hallow walls)
  • Measuring tape
  • Pliers
  • A wrench
  • Sand paper
  • Putty
  • Exacto knife kit
  • A small saw
  • Duct tape

anonymous asked:

hi! i was wondering if you could do a request of the band finding out someone made their (usually tough) s/o cry? thank you!

So I added a bit of a backstory to it just because it popped into my head. 

Warning for the beginning before the band’s reactions: Language/emotional abuse. 

It was a shitty day and y/n just wanted to get home when they saw the last person y/n wanted to see. The asshole sat across from y/n on the bus. Y/n was wearing their work clothes, it’s been a long and hard day, they looked disheveled, their hair was a mess and they were super tired. When y/n looked up and saw the other person was about to start speaking they just wanted to slap that smirk off their face.

Don’t say anything y/n… Don’t respond, it’s just bait. Don’t let them win.

“You don’t look like you’re doing well…” y/n’s Ex says with a vicious laugh. “How’s that new place going for you? Your ‘(boy/girl)friend’ finished bangin whores on tour? Do you really think they’re faithful, especially to the likes of you? I remember when we were together… we had something nice but it’s wasn’t THAT nice you know what I mean? I still had to find people to satisfy my needs…It’s not my fault you caught m-”

Y/n didn’t let them finish. It’s their stop anyway so y/n gets up calmly and back hand smacks the shit talker as hard as they could, causing the other person to let out a scream. Y/n straightens themselves out, smoothing their shirt and running their hands through their hair when they turn around to hop out the bus (which is applauding them) and starts to walk home. Suddenly tears are streaming down their face and y/n is slowly starting to cry harder. Out of nowhere a mix between a yell and a screech sounds: “HEY!”

Shit. Y/n’s now red faced ex is a block away and running towards them, looking like they’re out for blood. Y/n bolts, the house is just a half block away. When they reach the house, they enter and slam the door, locking it. Panting, they lean against the door and slide down it. The tears are starting again. Y/n puts their head in their hands and starts to sob. “Fuck…”


- “wha- the bloody hell happened to you? what are you… hey stop that.”

-When they look up and he sees they’ve been crying he suddenly rushes to them, changing his attitude right away.

-They lean into his arms and he rubs their back trying to figure out what in Satan’s name could have happened to make their lover lose their usually rock solid composure like this.

-He’s never seen them cry, so he has absolutely no idea what to do.

-When they tell Murdoc what happened he freezes, leads them to the couch and leaves. He comes back looking furious, his red eye somehow looks as if it was glowing, his clawed hands grasping a baseball bat studded with nails and only says two words  “Who. Where.”


- “Wha…Oh my are you alrigh?!” He rushes towards them and hugs them tightly, stroking their hair.

-When they look up and 2D sees their puffy eyes and tear streaked face he frowns. “What happened, love?”

-He tries his hardest to reassure them how much he loves them and how amazing they are.

-He picks them up, dumps them in bed and cuddles them, rocking them back and forth soothingly.

- “Ya know what? Fuck this person, I  don’t know who they are but they don’t have much goin on for them if they have to spend their time trying to make you feel bad. Yer amazing, love. I don’t know why they don’t see that and I don’t care. As long as you know it, that’s all that matters.”


-”Hey, y/n h- … are you… crying?”

- “Hey hey hey, c’mere..” He pulls them in a tight and comforting hug.

-”Who do I gotta unleash Mudz on?” He chuckles, making you giggle a bit.

-He pulls them into the kitchen, puts on an apron, and makes their favorite meal.

- As he makes the food they tell him what happened, he pauses sometimes and they notice him grip the pans or the knife harder, they see him tense up during the harsh parts but he stays silent as the story is being told, allowing them to vent. After they were finished he puts everything to the side for a moment and approaches them, sitting down at the table next to them, he gently tilts their chin up “Hey, you know that person didn’t know shit right? Deadass,(Sorry I had to represent my brooklyn boy through speech) all of us are lucky to have you here, especially me. We all love you, I love you, you’re so special and amazing, I can’t imagine being without you…”


-once she sees them crying she rushes to them letting out a string of japanese curses along the way

-She’s surprised to see that someone affected them this badly because they’re the strongest person Noodle knows.

-She lists every single thing that she likes about them for about a half hour from their attitude to how they dress, she makes sure they know she looks up to them.

-She gets the rest of the band to do the same.

-Noodle then takes them to their room and fixes them a bath. While they take a soothing bath, Noodle finds their favorite movie and orders a pizza.


i had a dream about the pastel edits… @d&p i’m begging u pls… (follow my ig: @shoujodan)

bluebelladon  asked:

So i had an Idea but I can't think of anything past the concept (+ yr writing for this kinda thing is like 200% better than mine) but what if the Lads founded the Fake AH crew and recruited the gents?

Ooh that’s fun – i’ve seen versions where they were two little gangs who combined into the FAHC but the idea of the actual Fake’s starting as the Lads is definitely interesting.

There were a lot of names tossed around at the start; it’s the part of forming a crew no one really talks about, the vaguely embarrassing period of building an image, choosing a name, defining yourselves. Like band names there is a lot of bad before the good. Like band names ‘good’ is wildly subjective, particularly when determined by a pack of teenage boys. The humour behind ‘Fake Crew’ isn’t particularly high brow and not a single soul outside the original four Lads, including and especially their future members, have any idea at all what the AH could possibly stand for. Most think its mysterious, assume something clever or at least meaningful, but the shifty looks the boys shoot each other when pressed tell a different story.

Still, they’ve made something of a name for themselves in Los Santos – the FAHC, who pull off unbelievable stunts, who lack any semblance of respect, dangerous in the way of feral animals, of wildfire. In the foolhardy way of children, who care far more about making sure you hurt than they do about protecting themselves. It’s enough to keep other gangs wary, to buy themselves a little breathing room with reckless gestures and bared teeth, but not exactly the glory they are looking for. Not quite the trembling respect they’ve dreamed of.

For that, it seems, they’re going to have to think bigger, smarter. Be clever not just in the tricks they play and jobs they pull but in the way they twist their image, they way they recruit, build their crew. Just being more won’t do it, added thugs for the sake of numbers; it would take an astonishing amount to really match the size of some of their rivals and the Lads don’t exactly play nice with strangers. No, they have to be strategic, have to select a few choice additions who can help them rise, and after much discussion they settle on three names they’d like to pull in; Ramsey, Patillo and the Vagabond. Lofty goals to be sure, but then, delusions of grandeur or not, the Fake’s have always considered themselves to be rather magnificent.

Everyone who’s anyone knows about the Vagabond; none of them will admit it (Ray will admit it, Ray doesn’t give a fuck) but the Lads all have hearts in their eyes every time the Vagabond slinks around, all follow every rumour, gossip over every job. Something between hero worship and healthy respect, without any of the fear normal self-respecting individuals feel, is the perfect cocktail to have the four of them plotting outlandish ways to pull in the mercenary. Patillo has an incredibly solid reputation for someone with no real ties, invariably thought to be smart, dependable, one of the best drivers in the country and definitely not a woman to be trifled with. That she and Ramsey seem to have some kind of relationship, worked together back in the day and while going their separate ways don’t appear to have had any kind of blow up, will hopefully work in the Lads favour. Last, but certainly not least, there’s Geoff Ramsey; the rouge Rooster who’s been traversing the country, constantly on the move and pulling all kinds of jobs from hilariously wacky to darkly perverse. Maybe the Lads are looking a bit outside their paid grade but with Ramsey reportedly looking to build his own crew they can’t not try, not after realising that their crew is unfortunately in need of a proper leader.

Because none of the Lads are leaders, not really, especially not back then. They aren’t incapable, are clearly wildly talented and loyal enough to one another to defer a certain kind of leadership to whomever has the best idea or the most experience with whatever task they’re facing, but no one individual is capable of being the permanent boss. No one individual actually wants that role, not really, they’re all too young, too impulsive, too eager to abandon necessary goals at the drop of a hat.  

Ray, who has arguably the least interest in being the boss of all, is less leader than lone wolf; when he’s taking point a lot of his orders tend to involve stealth, hanging back while he picks off targets, only charging in when long-distance is no longer an option. Necessary for particular jobs, and it’s certainly not an easy task keeping the other three in line until it’s their turn to burst into action, but it’s not a method that works for every task.

Michael makes a magnificent leader, fierce and fearless and unwaveringly loyal, protective of his crew until the bitter end. He is, unfortunately, utterly devoid of tact, of the patience to put up with any kind of shenanigans from anyone he doesn’t personally like, the ability to create and maintain necessary relations with anyone outside his crew. Michael himself knows he makes a far better Lieutenant, busy with duties he actually cares about, walking the line between following orders with absolute obedience and unapologetically calling out anything he disagrees with, reliable and relentless in equal measure.

Jeremy is meticulous, when he’s in charge he plots and plans and double checks, the very image of the perfect boss except for one flaw; more often than not he’s easily swayed. Will put together the perfect stealth plan only to agree when Michael makes a convincing argument for the importance of rocket launchers, conduct an ideal heist until Gavin begs to go after something shiny or Ray inquires about abandoning the sensible get away car for hilarious motorised scooters.

When Gavin is on his game he is fucking glorious, a flashbang of reckless laughter and terrible ideas none of them can resist, the promise that come hell or hand-grenades they will all be going home with a story. When Gavin plays leader he needs a lot of faith, needs the others to trust in things that don’t seem remotely feasible, but the payoff is always worth it. Except for the days when his words are too sharp, his eyes too cold, when he wants nothing more than to pick a fight with the most dangerous crook in the room, to swagger around the LSPD’s station unmasked, jump from a plane without checking his parachute; dancing with death just to see if he can. If they’re not careful on those days, if they missed the clues, the rest of the Lads would follow him down, unable discern between Gavin’s usual absurd genius and those streaks of genuinely aimless apathy until they’re all careening towards destruction.

So, as grating as it seems, there is an undeniable argument for a permanent leader, someone to keep them all on course, to take the responsibilities they don’t want, someone who can captain their ship without trying to push them all overboard. Still, you can’t just walk up to one of these infamous criminals and hand them an invitation; selling yourself – your dream, your crew, your city – takes time, takes planning, so in the end the FAHC’s first recruitment isn’t even one of those big three.

It’s pure luck when Michael meets Lindsay; finds her twirling a nail-studded bat in the wreckage of a bar, sipping a cocktail like she hadn’t just caved a man’s head in, and really nothing on earth could have stopped Michael from offering her a place in the crew. From talking them up in a way he’d never really bother with normally, because honestly how could he not. It doesn’t take much to get the other three onboard, Lindsay was a perfect fit, a seamless addition, and with her the FAHC is unquestionably more efficient.

Strangely the Vagabond is actually far easier to get on board than any had anticipated. After they start actively seeking his attention Ryan can’t help but watch the Lads. Not because their jobs are impressive (they are, actually, but Ryan’s in high demand, so very many crews out there are impressive enough) but because they are endearing eager; nothing like the pathetic begging of so many others, no attempt to convince Ryan he should be desperate to work with them, just genuine enthusiasm to prove themselves worthy of his time. They’re funny, something akin to a pack of reckless puppies; certainly capable of outrageous damage but equally likely to trip over their own oversized paws in their excitement, and in this business Ryan really shouldn’t find it as charming as he does. They take to leaving him all kinds of gifts; generally intriguing , often amusing and near always utterly gruesome, and after a month or so of hanging around the city toying with them they manage to get a former Rooster onside to run the show and Ryan’s run out of reasons to say no.

Gavin’s the one they sent after Geoff, when the Lads decide they’re ready to try to bring the notoriously creative, fortuitously crew-seeking man into the FAHC. Gavin’s first approach, full of deferential respect playing to Ramsey’s ego, is a complete bust; Geoff thought he was sweet, called him kid, laughed in his face and sent him out the door with a crack about coming back when he was old enough to drive. The second approach involves pulling a full blown job on Ramsey, one that starts with the man unknowingly buying Gavin a supercar and ends with the priceless tailored suit he’s wearing being pinned to the wall with a nail gun, Gavin grinning away like a particularly bloodthirsty shark, and all of a sudden Geoff can’t say he isn’t tempted. Deigns to finally listen to the recruitment spiel, as though he’s got any other choice right now, and despite himself is quickly sold on the whole crew.

Jeremy goes out one day and comes back with a handful of people, some they’d been discussing as a group, some the others hadn’t heard of, but all perfectly capable of holding their own agains the Lad’s disgruntled dissent. Steffie, who takes a look at their set up, rolls her eyes, then pulls out her phone and starts making a list, talking dealers and bases and possible new hires. Trevor who immediately sets to soothing ruffled feathers, sidling up to Gavin and gushing about some ridiculous theft, questioning Michael about his preference in heavy weaponry, ignoring the way Ray is skulking around behind him. Matt they’d all agreed on, welcoming the chance to push off all computering nonsense onto someone else, and Mica assures them all that she’s got no interest in sticking around, will work contracts as requested but isn’t about the stationary crew life. In the end no blood is spilt, no tempers flare too badly, and Jeremy is reasonably sure he isn’t going to wake up with a gun to his temple, so all in all it goes pretty well.

The last missing piece, Jack, is actually tracked down by Ray in the end; he wanders off one day and comes back with a very amused woman in tow, decked out in a hideous Hawaiian shirt and driving an obscenely nice Lamborghini. Apparently after finding her, not particularly difficult considering she wasn’t trying to hide, Ray simply told Jack all about Geoff’s fumbling attempts to simultaneously familiarise himself with the mess that is Los Santos, integrate himself into, and begin to take control of, an already close-knit, functioning crew, and do it all while pretending he’s not at all rattled by the Lad’s unwavering fascination with the horrifically notorious assassin who insists on sticking a straw through his mask to pound down a truly irresponsible number of diet cokes. It took a while for her utterly joyous, completely uncontrollable laughter to die down, but when she finally calmed Jack immediately started packing.

Older!Yuri Headcanons #3

Seems like this HC got a wee bit away from me… 

Warning for those who don’t read the tags: this is otayuri.

Part 1: Older!Yuri Headcanons #1
Part 2: Older!Yuri Headcanons #2

- Yuri discovers a love for glossy black nail polish when he’s 17 and Mila dares him to paint his nails
- (Lilia nearly has a heart attack when he comes to the studio with black studded nails. It still doesn’t prepare her for the first piercing, though.)
- It’s not something he indulges in regularly (he couldn’t, not with the kind of life he leads, where he doesn’t even have the time or the energy to take proper care of himself most of the times, and chipped nail polish just won’t do) which means that the painted nails mostly are for competitions, galas and exhibitions 
- Yuri is 22 and on top of the world when he gets his first major ad campaign as a model. It’s for a high end fragrance and he loves it (not the scent, for which he couldn’t care less, but the experience)
- They pamper him and the photographer is kind of a genius and gets all of his good sides
- (Aleksei snorts and tells him frankly that he only has *good* sides)
- (Otabek wholly agrees, but his brain is still short circuited after seeing the pictures and he’s not sure he could string two words together to save his life)
- (Looking at Otabek’s expression, Yuri truly feels beautiful for the first time in his life)
- Days later, Yuri blushes to the roots of his hair when he unlocks Beka’s phone and sees what’s on his screen
- (It’s one of the pictures from the photoshoot, one of those in which he’s *mostly* naked)
- (It’s not like he doesn’t have Beka’s ad pictures from three years prior in his phone too though)
- (Although that’s his own damn fault for looking so fucking hot and who even does an underwear ad if they’re gonna get all flustered by it afterwards anyway?)
- (Those photos might also be responsible for Yuri’s obsession with Otabek’s glorious abs)
- The first time Yuri finds an excuse to properly put his hands on the aforementioned glorious abs is one night in St. Petersburg, after Beka first moves in with him. The fact is, Otabek is apparently extremely ticklish - and if it gives Yuri the perfect excuse to put his hands on him, well… 
- (Also Yuri’s not blushing SHUT UP it’s just that pinning down Beka’s a lot of work and fuck fuck fuck why does Beka look so good laughing it’s completely unfair SHUT UP)
- After that fateful night when Beka kisses him for the first time, Yuri realizes that he does not really need an excuse to touch his body anymore. Not restraining himself means that his hands are usually found under Beka’s shirt when they’re alone together.
- (Sometimes, it’s solely for comfort. He finds the heat and softness of Beka’s skin feels like home)
- (Other times, it is decidedly less innocent)


Klaus & Caroline are Coachella’s Favorite Couple

INDIO, CA – It’s that time of year again! Flower crowns, fake piercings, glitter, braids, more glitter, sunnies, and of course, questionable ‘fashion’ choices. Obviously, we are talking about Coachella Music Festival. No music festival would be complete without new and old celebrity couples coming out of hiding for music, booze, and dru other recreational things.

Klaus Mikaelson and Caroline Forbes, or as their fans call them, Klaroline, made a splash this weekend and no one missed the chance to snap a pic of America’s Sweethearts. While Forbes’ fashion choices are sometimes hideous risky, her white summer dress was perfection and she only slightly offended our eyes with her choice of footwear on day 2; however, Mr. I’m-British-And-A-Stud Mikaelson nailed it with airy button downs (we wouldn’t have minded if a few buttons had popped open) and went casual chic in a pair of shorts.

While there’s no actual couple crowned king and queen at the popular music fest, each year a couple seems to make its way to the top of our watch list. This year it’s Klaroline. These two had fun and didn’t shy away from the cameras and fans who wanted a picture. We love when celebs cut loose and get to be normal people who sweat their asses off in the middle of the desert like the rest of us. 

We can’t wait to see these two at more events, Forbes’ newest film costarring Matthew “Blue Eyes” Donovan will premiere this summer. Check out the Instagram Pic posted by Forbes.