updo with curls

4

Most Memorable Hair: (Shirley MacLaine as) Louisa May Foster’s pink curled updo with a large side bang in the film, “What a Way to Go!,” 1964.

I'm suddenly standing at the beginning with you

For @nerdyadventures Happy birthday my friend, I’m 10 days late and I made you beta this but this is for you and for keeping up with my texts all the time and humoring me and texting me back. You’re wonderful and I can’t it to be January so we can hang out in Disneyland.

This is the start of a hopefully 3 part story. I hope you guys like it.


Piper was applying lipstick to her lips while Sally and Hazel worked on her hair but Annabeth was hardly paying attention to them, her brain kept thinking about what was about to happen… in less than an hour she would stop being Annabeth Chase and she would become Annabeth Jackson. In less than an hour, she would be marrying the love of her life. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to keep the butterflies in her belly at bay.

It had been so long since Percy had caused her butterflies but it wasn’t a bad thing, after all, they had been together for almost eight years and known each other for eleven. Percy didn’t give her butterflies anymore but he gave her a feeling of safety, love, home, happiness and that was better than any butterfly. She felt weirdly calm, she never thought this was how she would be feeling moments away from her wedding, like any bride she had her bridezilla moments but they didn’t last long, not when they usually ended in Percy’s arms, his voice soothing the stress away, joking how they could elope in any moment, how the only thing that matters was their love.      

“You look beautiful, honey.” Sally’s voice brought her back from her thoughts, her future mother-in-law had tears in her eyes. Annabeth looked at her reflection in the mirror, two beautiful braids worked as a headband and they ended in a messy bun with small white flowers braided into it, Piper had given her a beautiful but minimal makeover, hints of gold framed her eyelids, her lips had a peachy color on them and her cheeks were covered in light pinks and she looked, well, she looked like the blushing bride she wasn’t. “But you are missing something.”

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SugarDaddy!Cal Pt.11

A/N: Hello, beautiful people. This chapter lowkey had me feeling dirty lmaoo, plus I could’ve ended it better. I do include racist actions I guess I can say into this chapter. Me and my friends have personally experienced situations like this so I decided to incorporate it into the story, so don’t try to come for me. You all know I need 100 notes and feedback for the next chapter. Hope you enjoy💕

**WARNING**: smut; racist actions?


One/ Two/ Three/ Four/Five/Six/Seven/Eight/
Nine/Ten/Eleven/Twelve/Thirteen/Fourteen/Fifteen
Sixteen/ Seventeen/ Eighteen/ Nineteen/Twenty{END}


“My name is Tammy and I’ll be your waitress for today. What would you like to drink?”

“The best wine you have to offer.” Calum smiled up at the young girl and she nodded her head.

“Would you like a salad with your rolls?”

“Want a salad, babe?” Calum turned to you with furrowed eyebrows. The boy had known you for nearly three months and had taken you on countless dates, yet he’s not sure if you even like salad.

“Do you have Caesar dressing?”

“Yes, ma'am, we do.”

“That’ll be fine then.” You agreed whilst Calum declined the offer, deciding to just eat the buttered rolls.

Your eyes were scanning over the spacious room, taking in every white table cloth and every fairy light in the building. You couldn’t help but to notice  that most people here were middle aged and dressed as if they had millions of dollars without a clue on what to spend it on. The ladies had pinned updos or perfectly curled hair along with flashy diamonds and the men were balding and dressed in thousand dollar suits. A couple of the younger people were dressed the same way, most likely born into families that already had fortunes. Sadly, you also realized that you were the only person of color, other than Calum of course, in the fancy restaurant and you soon began to feel out of place. It was only when Tammy came back and slid your plate in front of you did you finally snap out of your trance.

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My Queen (King George III x Reader)

Originally posted by coalhillacademy

Requested by: Anonymous who wanted some fluffy King George x Reader

Summary: It’s your wedding day and you are all ready to marry your fiancé, who just happens to be the King of England! When you start having self doubts, George is there to comfort you.

Warnings: None!

Time Period: Hamiltime

Words: 1530

A/N: So, I loved writing this because I love King George and Jonathan Groff. To the requester, I hope this is what you were looking for. Sorry if I got any detaisl wrong about royal weddings during the 1700s. Anyway, thank you so much for everyone’s support and please feel free to leave some requests!!

You woke up and rubbed the reminiscent of sleep from your eyes. As mind started to think about the day ahead, your eyes shot open and a huge smile stretched across your face.

Today was the day you had been looking forward to for months. Today was the day you would be marrying George, the love of your life.

Jumping out of bed, you looked around the room, and your eyes landed on a bouquet of flowers. Right next to them, sat a small card with George’s fimilar handwriting. It read:

My dearest, (y/n):

You are the light of my life, and I still cannot belive that you agreed to marry me. I am eagerly anticipating the moment your beautiful figure glides down the aisle so that we may become man and wife. Until then, just know that I am thinking about you.

Forever yours,

(King) George

You smiled down at the note and brought the flowers closer to your face so you could smell their fresh scent. After setting them down, you ate the tray of breakfast that had been laid out for you.

Next, two maids came into your room to help you prepare for the ceremony. They sat you down in front of a mirror and pulled your hair into an elegant updo, curling the front sections that framed your face. Afterwards, they applied some makeup.

Finally, they laced up your corset and helped you into your wedding dress. It was a white, ballgown styled dress with lace. It had three-quarters length sleeves and a train coming off the back. You were finally allowed to see the final product when your veil was put on.

You beamed at your reflection because you felt truly beautiful. Everything felt absolutely perfect. All that was left to do was wait until the ceremony started. You thanked the maids and they offered their compliments before they left.

“You look truly radiant, miss.” the shorter one told you.

The other maid nodded and smiled at you before saying, “You almost look like a queen.”

With that, the two bowed their heads and left you alone to your thoughts.

All of the sudden, you began to get this nervous feeling in your stomach. It made you feel like you needed to throw up, so you decided to pace back and forth to keep the feeling at bay. The feeling did not go away, and the thoughts running around in your mind were not making it any better.

Your mind was a jumbled mess, but the only thing you could make out was the phrase, “You almost look like a queen.”

What was that supposed to mean? Was she mocking you? Subtly saying that you were unfit to marry King George and rule by his side?

Unfortunately, these thoughts were not anything new. Ever since the beginning of your courtship with George, you had contemplated whether you really deserved to be with him or not. All of these thoughts took you back in your memoires when you and George first began your courtship.


It was not like you were born into royalty or any sort of nobility. Your father was a black smith and your mother was a seamstress. From a young age, you were given the reasonability of looking after your younger siblings and learning the duties of a housewife.

The life your parents lived was not one you could ever be satisfied with, and you had vowed that you would make something of your life. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you would end up marrying the King of England, but it happened.

You had been going into town to pick up some food, when you came across two men having a political debate. One was saying that the King (who was George at the time) was young, inexperienced, and had no right ruling the country, while the other man was defending the King.

Quickly, you had stepped in and defended the king. Eventually, the debate had ended and you turned to the man you were supporting, He asked if you could walk you home, and the rest was history.

Once you and George had been courting for a few months, (he had revealed his true identity already) he decided to let your relationship be known to the people of England. The news was not well received.

People of nobility and those you were not were appalled over the fact that you were just a commoner. Instantly, you received letters upon letters saying how you were nothing more than a dirty whore, looking to steal the government’s money and destroy the monarchy.

Each time you would receive one of these letters, George would rip it up and gather you into his arms. Then, he would draw patterns on your back, while reassuring you of his love.


You were brought from your thoughts with a sharp knock on the door. You wiped away the few tears that had slipped down your cheeks and called to see who it was.

“It’s me, my darling,” A familiar voice spoke.

The grin you wore earily returned as you heard the soothing voice of your fiancé. You took a few steps forward and you were about to open the door when a thought hit you.

“Goerge, you know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.” you chided him.

“I do not care, I want to see my beautiful bride. I cannot wait for you to officially be my queen” he admitted.

At the word queen, your smiled dropped and sat down on the nearest coach. Although a your heart was racing, you knew what you had to do.

“George?” you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “Are you absoutlley positive that you wish to marry me?” you questioned, voice cracking in the middle.

“Of course, my love. Why would you ever doubt the love I hold for you?” he asked you, shocked at your comment.

“I-I just, I am not royality.” you admitted, half ashmaded. “And I know many people did not want that wedding to happen for that reason. And while I was preparing, one of the maids told me I almost looked like a queen. I know she didn’t mean anything by it, but it just made me worried.” you explained, rushing through your sentences.

It was awhile until George spoke again and you knew it was partially him trying to deicive what he said. Finally, you heard shifting on the other side of the door, and you saw a bit of his hand underneath the door, searching for your hand.

Smiling, you let your fingers brush against his and sighed. “(y/n),” George started. “I do not care what others say, or if you are royalty or not. All that matters is I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” he confessed.

Now, a few tears of joy slipped down your cheeks, and you brushed them away laughing gently at yourself. How could you ever think such thoughts or doubt George’s love?

After you thanked your fiancé, you heard his footsteps get further away, and you took a look at yourself in the mirror. Luckily, your makeup was still in place, and you just had to pin back your hair a bit.

Not long after your conversation with your soon to be husband, a knock was heard at the door. You knew it was time to walk down the aisle.

You gripped tightly onto your wedding bouquet and took a few deeps breath to try and calm yourself down. Then, the wedding march started and the doors opened. All heads were turned towards you and you put on your brightest smile.

Slowly, but confidently, you glided down the aisle, your dress and veil flowing gracefully behind you. As you reached the alter, you turned towards George and he was beaming right back at you. He extended his arms and pulled back your veil, showing off your radiant face.

Once vows and rings had been exchanged the officiator of the wedding asked you both a simple, yet so important question that you had the same answer to.

“I do.”

“Then I now pronounce you husband and wife.” you heard briefly.

But before you could move, you one of George’s arms wrap around of your waist, while the other cupped your cheek. He brought you into a passionate kiss, pouring all of his love into it. 

When you pulled apart, you felt happier than you ever had before in your life. Taking your hand, George gently turned the both of you to face the crowd. Gazing across the sea of people, you saw everyone smile, which boosted your own confidence.

“May I introduce for the first time, King George and Queen (y/n).”

While the crowd applauded again, George leaned in and whispered in your ear, causing you to giggle.

“Did you hear that? Your my queen.”

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Good pin curls updo for victorian/edwadian/1920′s style. For more volume (and a faux bob feeling), I use two hair rats that I pin over the elastics before curling my hair on top of them.
You do not necessarily need hairspray for this; I only use mousse, and the updo stays in place all day (and all night)!

Time Travel

Summary: Y/N somehow finds herself in Hamiltime and decides to break into the wrong house.

Pairing: eventual Philip x reader

Warnings: language, unedited

Word count: 1,733 words

A/N: I literally have been thinking about this for the past two weeks and have finally decided to write it. I wrote this in a little over two hours and it’s a little rough but at least it’s written. I will be doing more parts to this eventually. Also, I am actually doing research for this and the house I’m describing is the Hamilton’s actual house, called the Hamilton Grange.


“The worst part is that he apologized to his mother for forgetting what she taught him. She taught him how to count. He thought he miscounted his steps!”

“Mhmm,” your friend said, not looking away from her phone.

“Dude, I know you don’t like Hamilton, but can you at least pretend listen to me when I rant? I just have a lot of feelings and you’re my only friend.”

“Sorry,” [Y/F/N] muttered, putting her phone in her back pocket. “But that is sad. He blamed himself when I guess it wasn’t his fault.”

“It wasn’t! If George Eacker hadn’t fucking cheated, Philip might have lived. He might have gotten to grow up and do great things, and now we’ll never know!”

“Okay, you need to stop. I know you love this, but it happened over two hundred years ago and you need to let it go because I want to go to bed and you,” she took the glass of wine out of your hand, “need to stop drinking. You have class in the morning”

“Since when are you the mom friend?” you asked, slightly miffed that [Y/F/N] had cut you off.

“Since you can’t seem to realize that it’s two in the morning and you have an eight AM tomorrow that you can’t miss,” she replied.

You simply muttered a “fine” before slinking off to your bedroom. You didn’t bother with changing into your pajamas and just laid in bed in your clothes from that day, which consisted of an oversized flannel and capri leggings. You didn’t realize how truly tired you were until you remembered you still had to brush your teeth and wash your face but by the time you found enough motivation to get up, you were already falling asleep. Whatever, you thought, I’ll just do it tomorrow.


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