Funny Fake Eyelashes Meme Novels & Stories

Since then, the youngest heir to the Vuitton tech fortune released a follow-up video—in clothes this time—apologizing, no doubt attempting to mend ties with the Bass family, whom the Vuittons invest heavily into. Good luck with that. In the video, she—or should I say her lawyer—explains the dangerous prevalence of artificial intelligence and deepfakes, painting Priscella as an innocent victim of some extortionate hacker, who has yet to be unveiled. Let me be the first to say, no one's believing that, Miss Vuitton. Not me, not my readers and especially not tycoons on Silicon Avenue. All of us know the truth... Those pixels were realer than every one of your "orgasms."

"A minute ago, you were throwing around insults like it was your hobby. So go on, say something else now." Fiona shrieked as Lauren's heel pressed harder, distorting her nose and mouth. Tears streaming, she cried, "Hugh, help me! Somebody help! She's going to kill me!" Lauren grabbed a fistful of Fiona's hair and sneered, "Your eyelids, nose, lips are fake, and even your chest is fake. Wow, you're a walking patchwork of cheap parts!" Without hesitation, Lauren started ripping off Fiona's fake eyelashes, and double eyelid tape, and even yanked out her push-up bra.

I ask. I hear everyone laughing in the room. Did I crack a joke? A makeup joke? Is that how these makeup artists talk with each other? "No. You are safe. Open." Chinese lady says and I gulp in my saliva. Here goes my eyes. I slowly open my eyes,the fake eyelashes kind of sticking into my lower lid, scaring the fuck out of me. How does those celebrities even wear these things? I somehow, after struggling with the fake eyelashes, open my eyes. And all I see is colours and wierd shapes. The reason is the studio light hitting my eyes directly.

Jasmine stared at her laptop screen with puffy eyes, and black eye bags that looked like had other eye bags under them. Her long, shoulder-length hair was messy, it had been a long time since she had combed it. She looked messed up. She was looking at the comments of people on the internet who responded to news about the video. Evil comments, mocking and demeaning her, were everywhere. She has closed her social media accounts, but other accounts using her name to mock her were popping up everywhere.

Her red hair is in a sleek ponytail. "Good evening, Geneva" I force my friendly smile at her. I dry my hand with the napkin, ready to leave her when she stops me. "Wait, dear. Don't go too fast. Let's talk for a while, shall we?" she dries her hand while her eyes keep looking at me from the mirror. I stare at her heavy fake eyelashes. How can she open her eyes with that heavy eyelash glued in her eyes? "Well, what do you want to say to me, Geneva?" I keep smiling.

Lila nearly had an aneurysm. Which only made me grin harder. That night, I got bored scrolling through TikTok and decided to stir the pot. I filmed a quick video after practice—hair messy, shirt damp, just enough effort to look casual. Captioned it: Day 1 with the girlfriend. Wish us luck 😉 #powercouple #fakebutnotreally Hit post. Sat back. Waited. The comments blew up in minutes. Half the school was shipping us already. People were making fan edits. FAN EDITS. Of me and Lila. I laughed so hard I nearly dropped my phone.

“I didn’t call you to laugh at me. I called you to help me.” Natalie leaned into the camera, smirking. “Well, you look laugh-worthy.” “You’re evil.” Greta chimed in, handing me a mascara wand. “She's not wrong though. You kind of look like a very sad Disney villain who lost custody of her cat.” “Thank you, both of you, so much for this confidence boost,” I said dryly, dragging the sponge under my eyes like I was scrubbing away the past two days of hell. “Okay, okay,” Natalie said between snorts. “Let’s fix this. First—eyeliner. Small wing. Not a bat signal.”

I’m wrapped in a soft, fluffy robe, and marched out of the bathroom, back into the bedroom, where she pushes me onto a stool in front of a mirror. There, Emerald takes over again and smears my face with some coloured lotion ‘to make it less pale’. I look at her in the mirror but she doesn’t return my glance; she is the picture of concentration as she draws on some freckles ‘to make me look youthful’. Stray hairs are removed from my scanty eyebrows and upper lip, before Emerald colours my brows in, to match what hair I have on my head. A sheen is applied to my eyelids before Emerald adds some fake lashes because “You don’t have any, dear.” Next, she draws stripes around my forehead, cheeks, j

maybe that thought triggered my hormones. After a few minutes when I was out of the shower, I found her sleeping peacefully. I looked at her this time. She had kept her hair in a bun, but few of them were still falling on her face, like bees on flowers. She was looking mesmerising without any makeup. Her big brown eyes were closed and those velvety lashes were adding beauty to those eyes. Pointed nose and pouty red lips were perfect for her oval face. She was laying there like a cute bunny.

Kayla's grandmother and two uncles stood before me and questioned me. "Where's the ring?" I instinctively covered my hand. An idea flashed through my mind, and I quickly lied to my grandmother-in-law, Eleanor Sanford. "Grandma, to be honest, I'm allergic to the ring. I can't wear it." Before I could finish speaking, I was struck with a cane.