This probably seems really weird and that's because it really is. I got this idea from watching someone do a tutorial on GH2 -- the hand playing notes has one black nail with the rest white. Weird inspiration, sure. There is no character stated, and you can choose whomever you'd like to fit this, but I sort of had Axel in mind while writing this... 'cause I heart Axel.

Title Nails
Summary Just like your nails, you had slipped back into the conformity you had tried to break out of.
Rating G
Warning(s) None
Disclaimer Don't own.

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Every time you'd paint your nails, you'd get to thinking. What exactly was this? This whole thing -- painting your nails. Each of the little ten slivers of keratin, getting a nice, cool coat of paint put onto them. Slick, thick, quick -- that's the way it would be applied. A different colour each time, the only break in the monotony.

Except no. Eventually, all those blacks and blues and sparkly silvers start running together, and they're all looking pretty similar. Each one of them is blurring with the previous, and your poor yellowed nails, stained from months of polish, are just begging for that paint to be applied to cover them up, pretty them up.

And you'd think a lot. Maybe you could switch it up. Sometimes you'd just give each nail a sloppy, uneven French manicure in a variety of colours, but those started to blur together too, so you'd move onto more grand ideas. Buy a super small paint brush from the local art store, paint little smilies and hearts and stars and clovers and generic, easily-drawn-when-small symbols on them. But no, those would blur too.

So you'd think some more.

Different colours on different nails -- that worked for a while, until you ran out of colour combinations that didn't make your eyes burn. Then you would go out, buy some different hues, make more matches. Only that wouldn't work well either, because different colours on different nails -- that variety was there, but then again, that variety was the same thing, over and over and over.

This was around the time when you thought, maybe just one nail, or maybe two on each hand. But then those two looked lonely; that one looked like it needed company, and you'd end up caving and painting them all the same boring, wretched colour.

So that's when you take it off. Dress down, douse cotton balls in remover, and take it all off. Let your nails grow out, clip off the stained yellow, and you'd think to yourself. Just like your nails, you had slipped back into the conformity you had tried to break out of.