#manikur

[bironerinet]

Manikür nedir? El ve tırnak bakımının önemini ve evde manikürü nasıl yapabileceğinizi öğrenin. İpuçları ve adımlarla kendi manikürünüzü yapın!

[ladyneedsru]

[yildizelinakliyat]

kahramanmaras manikür pedikür hizmeti veriyoruz.

[bamunails]

Micro manikür + Kalıcı oje 🤗🌸#micromanikur #gelpolishnails #nailsofinstagram #naildesign #manikur (Çamlık, Denizli) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpdJki1OmmK/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[acid-gramma]

Sen gebekde geceleri napıyorsun uyumayip

sabahlri ne yapiyorsam aynisini yapiyorum. supurge tutmak gibi komsulari rahatsiz edecek aktiviteler haric.

genelde kahve kulaklikla muzik manikur oje seansi cilt bakimi belki anime izleme fln... dun bi anime filmi izledim guzeldi

kimi wo aishita hitori no boku e

[chunky-ruckus]

Unfinished fic: Lost in Coma (and Covered in Cake)

This fic was an Ardata character study slash ardata / chahut smut fic. I didn't get too far past the beginning; I needed to replay her friendsim. The fic felt a little ooc.

___

Prose written:

You were hatched in the red. Up an eye, you guess, but always something missing. Something lost. So, you know a thing or two about living in deficit. You’re attuned to all the itty bitty minutia of it, all those things you’ve lost.

Tonight it’s your idiot followers again. Highlights from last morning’s stream include: you’re loosing [sic] your touch, blue and wheeree’s thee guuts, ‘daataa? and ur manikure is lookin whakk, babygirl and more pet-names than a fucking porno. And who asked them, anyway? Like you’re someone to fucking pity.

Still, you scowl at the feeling of your traitorous heart stuttering in your chest when you look at your follower count. In the red. Again. 

Your hand itches toward the screwdriver.

A feeling flashes as your fingers brush the rough plastic. The desire to drive it into your socket and escape yourself, though you aren’t sure if the desire is your own or just some idiot’s fleeting memory you picked up along the way. But, suddenly, you’re craving steak, and you’re thinking of them.

A hm. A hm hm hm! You’re laughing a stifled laugh. How preposterous! You’re cerulean. A highblood; violence comes natural to you. Too bad for the philistines. 

The light from your husktop is giving you a fucking miiigraiine. You rub your eyes, providing counter pressure. When you pull away, some of your eyelashes have come away in your palms, stuck in the mascara. Oozy swipes of pitch sticky on your skin. 

You suppose you are a blueblood, in the sense that a ghost is a person. Sure, you occupy. Yes, you appear. The burgundies can sense you and they are afraid. But place hand to skin and it would phase right through. You aren't there, not really, haunting not a house but your caste, your cast; you’re playing a part but really, there's nothing substantial to you at all.

You think it might be because there’s something askew inside you, stewing low in your belly like this morning's malevolent parasite. Cut open anyone else, pull out their guts and put 'em on the table, and everything will curl wetly back back into place with enough time.

But you? You’re something different. Built wrong, from the inside. Cut you open, slice from hip to rib, and your guts would never stop spilling. Slide out of you and flee. Wet and slithering and hateful. Sucking your blood and viscera from your body in a never ending gush.

And, you think, that's why you bring them to your red room. Isn’t that trollmanity? To be fascinated by the unfamiliar? Isn’t that why people followed you in the first place? 

Your fist clenches; the eyelashes stuck to your palm tickle your fingers.

Fuck them.

Still, losing followers is becoming something of a trend. You need to... Do. Something. Something new.

Your arms cross over your stomach like you’re holding in your traitorous guts even now. Something drops in your belly- a feeling you refuse to name- even as you sneer through the feeling. 

Troll Picasso cut his fucking ear off for this shit, and you’re no troll Picasso. You won’t lose an eye, not even for another.

The moons roll high in the night like even the sky and stars are sick of your shit. That flavor of raw meat lingers in your tongue, curling your upper lip.

Maybe it’s true, then. Maybe your act is getting old.

It’s the middle of the night. Fuck it, you may as well admit it. You’re thinking of them. That bloom of warmth they put right inside you. It feels too right; you need something ugly....

(Your eyes are killing you.)

...Counterpressure.

(Taking too much space up in your head.)

And, you realize, your guts are roiling; you’re hungry, you guess. But you’re hungry all the time, something awful and aching that can’t be sated.

Perhaps it’s true, then... 

You’re just like your lusus.

[LINE BREAK]

What sort of piece of shit friend would you be if you didn’t religiously track the whereabouts of your one and only? And religiously is right; what the fuck where they doing with the funny folk? At the hive of worship, no less.

Still, you suppose it can’t be helped for a helpless, hapless, hornless idiot- said affectionately, of course- to find their way towards the ugly. Like attracts like.

And this place attracted you, tonight, which has to be some sort of cosmic fucking metaphor. The hive of violence stands before you stained in swirling glass and centuries of blood and shitty soda.

Your mind stirs, the familiar feeling of the weaker-willed in distress calling you from within. You’re disgusted by the pull they have on you; how their mind affects yours because your mind is always listening. Hey, it’s not like you can turn your psychicality off.

Without your permission, your traitorous stride has taken you to stand in front of a pair of heavy, mahogany doors. Inlaid in the wood on either side are two skulls, one painted in a ghoulish smile, the other in a frown. The sexy, clownish curlicues of their horns do little to detract from your desire to press your hand to the wood.

Your hand pulls away wet and globby, a puppet string of warm-hued blood lingering between your hand and the door. 

You scowl. What, they couldn’t have posted “Wet Paint” signs? You rub the coagulated blood between your fingers, comfort found in the familiar. Peering closer, and, yes, the doors are shiny wet. You catch a glimpse of your reflection, distorted over blood clots and the whirl of the wood, and fix your hair. And, god, your eyes are all fucked up. Using your nail, you neaten the lines of your eyeliner and scratch away stray streaks of mascara.

You hate looking in the mirror. It’s something lonely people do, like they have no one else to share the irony with. Like they have to look inwards to get the joke. But this? Reflected in blood like you are? You finally look like yourself. 

You make a pose, smiling malevolently with your hand demurely covering your mouth, and, like a shitty horror movie, the door opens a crack with a foreboding creak.

___

Outline / Snippets (kinda):

(It isn’t her fault she’s so unkempt. Clowns love the dishevelment; their raison d’être.)

(Yes, you’re inspired. Maybe you don’t kill them right away. Kill them slowly, start with their spirit. Give them life in trickles and take it away only slightly faster. Your lusus would love that. The idea makes you tired. It’d be so much work. So little reward.)

(Chahut and Ardata fight: data sends te rusties after chahut, chahut cuts them down lazily, no effort. She’s an artist (cue anger that Chahut doesn’t suffer for her art, justify data’s superiority) Later, checkov’s rustie: Data sends one of the half dead towards Cahhut and Chahut voodoos them, successfully getting into data’s mind.)

(Paint her face and call her holy? Are you one a them girles that buys into that eyeliner sharper than a knife shit? Chahut cuts her axe next to data’s eyeliner with the steady hand of one whos spend sweeps practicing in the mirror)

[schopenhauerunvarisi]

Manikur yapalim asko 🧚

[tortik158]

https://ya-namanik.ru/uslugi/manikur/ #маникюрмосква #маникюр #маникюргельлак

[nazarovaregina]

https://ya-namanik.ru/uslugi/manikur/ #маникюрмосква #маникюр #маникюргельлак

[roberta255]

https://ya-namanik.ru/uslugi/manikur/ #маникюрмосква #маникюр #маникюргельлак

[scentedpeanutking]

https://ya-namanik.ru/uslugi/manikur/ #маникюрмосква #маникюр #маникюргельлак

[angelinagordeeva]

https://ya-namanik.ru/uslugi/manikur/ #маникюрмосква #маникюр #маникюргельлак

[acid-gramma]

mara manikur ise yariyor mu ya

evet hayatimda harcadigim en verimli 40 lira. yumusacik yapiyo eli

[jonson02]

https://ya-namanik.ru/uslugi/manikur/ #маникюрмосква #маникюр #маникюргельлак

[soriful02]

https://ya-namanik.ru/uslugi/manikur/ #маникюрмосква #маникюр #маникюргельлак

[sakil05]

https://ya-namanik.ru/uslugi/manikur/ #маникюрмосква #маникюр #маникюргельлак