Mărțișor aesthetic

Mărțișor is a Romanian celebration at the beginning of spring, on March the 1st in Romania, Moldova, and all territories inhabited by Romanians. The word Mărțișor is the diminutive of marț, the old folk name for March (martie, in modern Romanian), and thus literally means “little March”.

Mărțișor, marț and mărțiguș are all names for the red and white string with hanging tassel customarily given on the 1st day of March.

Giving this talisman to people is an old custom, and it is believed that the wearer will be strong and healthy for the year to come. It is also a symbol of the coming spring. Usually, both women and men wear it pinned to their clothes, close to the heart, until the last day of March, when they tie it to a fruit-tree twig. In some regions, a gold or silver coin hangs on the string and is worn around the neck. After wearing it for a certain length of time, they buy red wine and sweet cheese with the coin, according to a belief that their faces would remain beautiful and white as cheese and rubicund as the wine, all year. In modern times, and especially in urban areas, the Mărțișor lost most of its talisman properties and became more a symbol of friendship, love, appreciation and respect.

P.A. ; Sebastian Stan

WARNINGS: jealous/angry seb, nsfw !!, orgasm denial, oral (male receiving)

summary: being seb’s personal assistant + having to suck him in his dressing room because you clearly have been a ‘naughty girl’

You watched Sebastian from a distance as he was filmed for the scenes in the upcoming Captain America: Civil War movie and was being instructed in front of a green screen as he often nodded as a response. He honestly had looked so dreamy with the metal arm and the character uniform that you’d admit to daydream about his character ‘Bucky’ at certain times.

It was honestly a blessing that you were chosen to be his personal assistant, out of all the hundreds who inquired for the role. And everyday you thank to yourself that you get to remind and somehow spend time with the Sebastian Stan —and not just during filming but also in his training and meetings. Eventually the bond between the both of you strengthed as it lead to the both of you becoming much more than friends but rather with benefits.

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Ascendant and Physical Appearance

I’ve recently read into (Evangeline Adams’ book on rising signs) what your rising sign has to do with your appearance and it’s pretty interesting so I thought i’d make a post about it, it may even help people guess other people’s dominants in their chart.
Before I get started though, it is very important that people read this part; this post isn’t me telling you what YOU look like (Especially for those people who only know their sun sign, for the love of God, do not use only your sun sign); this is for you to use as a tool to understand why you look the way you do (ex. why is it that my hair grows excessively, why do I have high cheek bones, why do I have a square chin, etc.) AND to help you guess the dominant of others.
The second important thing you should know before you read the descriptions; Harmonious aspects contribute a lot to appearance. What this means is that even though your Ascendant may be Capricorn, you may have a lot of fire conjunctions and trines which will contribute greatly to your appearance or you may have a planet that sits closely to your Ascendant that will modify parts. Also, if your Ascendant happens to be a mutable sign, the affects of other planets will almost always change or contradict the description of your Ascendant’s appearance
If you don’t know the strong influences in your chart, I would suggest having someone help you look at it if you don’t know how.
Finally, you should know that these descriptions are the extremes of each sign, they are the purest form of each ascendant which is very rare for a person to have.
So if I receive any messages saying something like “the way you described Sagittarius is nothing like me!” Well, you obviously didn’t understand or read anything I wrote before reading your description because chances are, there is some other influence in your chart that is contributing greatly.
Alright, lets get started.

There are two types of Aries appearances, the masculine/active Aries and the feminine/passive Aries. Regardless of sex or gender, a person can have either type.

Masculine Aries: Their movements are spasmodic and assertive. They are usually tall, slim, and muscular. Their body is very well formed and rarely accumulates excessive fat. Their forehead tends to be a prominent feature. Hair is often reddish or light brown. Eyes are cold a possess a keen and haughty expression. They have straight standing out noses, a thin mouth, and sharp chin.

Feminine Aries: They have a rounder head compared to Masculine Aries. Their eyes are pale and wider, they carry a timid expression. Their nose is fleshier than Masculine Aries as well as they have fuller lips and a rounder chin. 

Their movements are much slower compared to a Fire or Air elemental. Their body is overall thicker, including their shoulders which tend to be very prominent. Their limbs are somewhat shorter in proportion to their body. They have a square shaped face. Their face is strong-willed with a sense of affection. Their hair is usually dark, in rare cases almost white, with a crinkly texture. Their eyes are also dark. Their nose is usually short and plump, their lips are full and voluptuous.

Their movements are swift and their eyes dart around in awareness. Overall their body is quite small and slim with long arms and fingers. Their hair is usually of a blonde shade. Their eyes come in colours from grey to brown. Their complexion is sort of pale. Their lips are usually small and thin and their nose is long and aquiline.

The Cancer appearance again is divided into passive/feminine and active/masculine, but they do share some similar traits. One common Cancer trait is that even if they are not plump in their early years, they tend to accumulate it in their early years. Also again, regardless of sex or gender, a person can possess either active or passive traits.

Feminine Cancer: Movements flow like water, obviously. Their face is round and flat with a very pale complexion, similar to the moon. Their mouth is large, nose is snub, eyes are large and pale. They have arched eyebrows that give a curious expression. Hair is usually blonde, but in cases where it’s black, it is very straight and lacks shine. Their body is short with rounded limbs. In women, they tend to have nicely shaped breasts as Cancer rules over motherly duties.

Masculine Cancer: Their face is aquiline instead of round. Their complexion holds a pinkish-rubicund colour. Their mouth is thin and firm. Eyes still pale, but piercing. Their body is sort of clumsy and plump.

The Leo type is divided into two different kinds of Leos, the Noble type and the Degenerated type.

Noble Leo: Ruled by the sun, they represent sort of a masculine beauty. Their movements are proud and quick. They have a frank expression. Their complexion ranges from dark and ruddy to clear and rosy. Hair is usually blonde, sometimes reddish. Their hair can be quite prominent when it is grown out like a mane. Their eyebrows hold an expression of bravery and challenge. Their forehead is high, but overall their head is equally proportioned. Their eyes are fearless and commanding. Their nose is neither very large nor very small and is straight. Their mouth is well shaped and small. Chin is rather square. Overall their limbs and body are well proportioned, but hips tend to be slim and shoulders to be broad. 

Degenerated Leo: Easy to spot, they have sort of a “bull dog” type face. Complexion is almost always dark and flushed. Their whole face seems pinched and squinted. Their body is a lot smaller and weaker from the noble type, but still broad.

Their appearance is often modified by other influences in their chart; it’s rare to find a pure Virgo. The Virgo appearance is divided into the Earthy type and the Mercurial type, they are very different from each other.

Earthy type: Movements are slow, as earth signs typically are. Their head is pretty large for their body. They have wide nostrils, the nose is sometimes the most prominent feature of their face. Their eyes are clear and small with a cunning expression. Their lips are small and narrowed. Their body can be very oddly proportioned and limbs ill set. Their hair can either be light or dark and it’s very striking and either crisp or wavy; it tends to stand up away from their forehead which is a strong characteristic of an Earthy type Virgo.

Mercurial type: The more common type of Virgo you’ll see. Their bodies are very small, well proportioned and active. Their face is feminine and long with small facial features. Their hair is usually like brown and their eyes are usually grey or hazel, sometimes blue. Their eyes have a intelligent expression. Their nose is small and straight, still with the wider nostrils. Earth signs tend to be thicker, but for Virgos, they tend to stay very thin and their movements are quick like an air sign.

They are divided by two types, the Venusian and Saturnian/Scorpio type. Their movements are graceful as air signs tend to be.

Venusian type
: Their body is small, delicate, and slim. Facial features are small, soft, and pleasing. They tend to be callipygian (nice butt hehe). Their complexion is usually olive-ish and their hair is very dark with a glossy warmth to it; it is usually very straight. Their nose is small and Grecian, straight with no indentation on the bridge. Their lips are dark and seductive.

Saturnian/Scorpio type: Their body is much more muscular and square compared to the Venusian Libra. Their shoulders are prominent and square. Their eyes are more intense and somewhat sinister. There is something mysterious about Saturnian/Scorpio Libras. Their complexion is courser compared to Venusian Libra.

There are two types for this one, the masculine/active type and the feminine/passive type. Any gender or sex can possess either type.

Masculine type: Their hair is usually very thick and dark, sometimes curly. Their face is square, similar to Leo, but their cheekbones are much more prominent. Their eyes are deep-set and intense. Their nose varies, but always carries an aggressive and powerful expression. Their mouth is large and compressed usually. Their jaw is square and strong. Their body is thicker-set, but strong.

Feminine type: Their face is usually a perfect oval and they have an overall alluring expression. Their lips are full and loose. They have a body that is thinner and smaller. They tend to get moles and dark freckles.

They have a finely proportioned head that is slightly long. Their eyes possess a similar dreamy look to Pisces; they are usually a grey or light brown colour. Their nose is long and straight; a Jupiter influence will tip the nose down almost like a hook, while a strong moon influence will turn it back up. Their chin is narrow and rather pointed. Their hair is usually auburn. Sagittarius can be easily recognized by their doe-like expression/face. Their complexion is a rosy pink. Their bodies are some what similar to Libra, but more athletic as fire signs typically are. Their movements are graceful, restless, and active. Their legs are long and prominent.

Their movements are slow, again just as earth signs are. Their skull is broad and their forehead is high. They have small, piercing eyes. Their nose is long and bony, mouth is thin and compressed. Bone structure is the most prominent part of their appearance; they are tall and lanky, limbs are big boned and long. Women with Capricorn influence often complain about having too much hair. Their expression is intense and kind of bitter. Wrinkles appearing early in life is common, but despite aging, they tend to keep keen eyesight.

Movements are graceful and swift. Their skull is broad compared to length, their face is long and oval. Their hair possesses a beautiful glint, it is usually curly. Their eyes are slightly wider set apart, the colour ranges from hazel to blue; they are large and luminous. Their nose is neither very long or very short, nor very thin or very broad. Their lips are of medium size, but somewhat thin. Their body is very average and well proportioned; not very robust though. Aquarian men tend to be a little effeminate while Aquarian women tend to be a bit masculine.

Their face is very soft and rounded. Their eyes are very prominent: dreamy with almost a sleepy expression. Their lips are full, their neck is short, shoulders are round. Their hair is usually brown. Their limbs tend to be short and squishy.


Some new drawings for my untitled magical girl story. Playing with some of the character designs to make them more interesting and trying to find my own style for this instead of the generic “animu” style I keep defaulting back to.

Also trying to come up with some unique villain designs. Sir Rubicund the Red Knight is the second villain I’ve drawn after Princess Melanthia. There will also be a Green Knight, a Blue Knight, and their ruler Queen Nyx.

Rumors | Damian Wayne x Reader x Jon Kent

Description:  The moment Jon step’s into Damian’s room, greeted by the sight of a ball curled up on his bed and wearing Robin’s sweatshirt, he realizes that he doesn’t need super-senses to understand when something is wrong.

Request: Myself because I need it XD

Words: 1806

Notes: Why do I feel like this literally has no plot???

Masterlist | Inbox

Taglist: @followeroonieclassic@instantangelstudent@puggleprincess@robincoalition@blue-streak-dolan

The moment Jon step’s into Damian’s room, greeted by the sight of a ball curled up on his bed and wearing Robin’s sweatshirt, he realizes that he doesn’t need super-senses to understand when something is wrong.

“N/N…?” He called tentatively, creeping toward the bed like you were a nervous animal caught in a trap. The shuddering mound shifts and out pops a messy assemblage of H/C, rubicund in visage and sorrowfully so. Jon hates the way your voice cracks when you call his name, hugging your knees to your chest and clutching your elbows. He loves the way he can hear your heart speed up at his entrance.

He flies across the room so fast the papers on Damian’s desk go flying, and the Teen of Steel lands on his boyfriend’s bed and paws at your side,”Hey, what happened? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

Keep reading

powerful-genderwitch-nea  asked:

Is there a reason you don't often describe race in characters? when reading Anansi boys I had this weird conception of the characters of Charlie and Spider as white, when on future reads having context it was obvious they should not be.

I actually describe race a lot in Anansi Boys. You know who comes from where, after all, how they talk, what kind of foods they eat. But I only tend to tag the skin colour of the white characters in the book when they first show up.

For example:

 "Excuse me,“ said a small white woman with a clipboard, “are these people with you?”


He was a middle-aged white man with receding very fair hair. If you happened to see Grahame Coats and immediately found yourself thinking of an albino ferret in an expensive suit, you would not be the first.


They went inside: down wooden steps to a cellar where rubicund barristers drank side by side with pallid money market fund managers.


Grahame Coats had gone off-white – one of those colours that turn up in paint catalogues with names like Parchment or Magnolia. He said, “How did you get access to those accounts?”


Her flatmate, Carol, a thin-faced white woman from Preston, stuck her head around the bedroom door. She was towelling her hair vigorously.


She wore a white blouse, and a blue denim skirt, and over it, a grey coat. She had very long legs and extremely pale skin, and hair which remained, with only minimal chemical assistance, quite as blonde as it had been when Morris Livingstone had married her, twenty years earlier.


Fat Charlie squeezed in next to a large woman with a chicken on her lap. Behind them two white girls chattered about the parties they had attended the previous night and the shortcomings of the temporary boyfriends they had accumulated during their holiday.

(Those from a quick flip-through, and far from exhaustive.)

I hope people find on a careful reading that the race of the various characters is pretty obvious, and is often described (for example, Daisy’s father is from Hong Kong, her mother is Ethiopian). 

I’m sorry you read Fat Charlie and Spider and Mr Nancy and their families as white on first read, but that might have something to do with the way that people’s heads reading a book can default all characters to white, if other information is not immediately supplied, which is a very bad habit, and one I hope Anansi Boys might help people to shed.

And there is, after all, a huge pointer to the race of the title characters in the title…

We Should Fuck

This is smut. That’s it. Smut. Top Phil, bottom Dan, daddy kink, you know, the usual.

Dan and Phil are sharing a hotel room and Dan gets horny, unsurprisingly. Dan is blatant, Phil is unhelpful, and Dan decides to take matters into his own hands. *cue smut*

“We should fuck.”, Dan said randomly, sprawled across his hotel bed, staring at the ceiling.

“What?”, Phil replied, not extensively phased. Having lived with Dan for many years, he’s become quite accustomed to strange outbursts. He looked up from his laptop to stare at him curiously, waiting for an explanation.

“We should fuck.”, he reiterated, rolling around out of boredom. Phil rolled his eyes, sighing lightheartedly at Dan’s behavior, and turned his attention back to the iHop menu pulled up on his computer screen. “I’m being one hundred percent serious.”, he continued, now looking at Phil. “I mean, we’re both single, bi, sexually frustrated (on my part, at least, but don’t try to tell me you’re not), and, really, the only thing that separates our current friendship from romance is sex, so why not?” Phil turned back towards Dan, eyebrows raised, with an expression that clearly read, “Are you for real?”.

“No, Dan.”


Phil curled up in his chair, headphones on, and resumed browsing the web, while Dan, unbeknownst to Phil, shucked off his shorts. He dragged his hand across his semi-hard on and palmed himself through his boxer until he was fully hard, glancing yearningly at Phil every so often. Phil, who was now knee deep in dank memes (scrolling through Tumblr), was entirely unaware of what was happening five feet to his left until a high-pitched, breathy, blatantly sexual moan escaped Dan’s mouth and struck through the beautiful, social criticizing stylings of Muse.

“What the hell?!”, he yelled, watching in incredulity as Dan jerked his now completely exposed dick. Dan stared at Phil desperately, obviously not planning on stopping his actions.

“Phil,” he mumbled, “please?”

“What are you doing?”

“You–ah –you won’t have sex with…. me a-and I’m horny as fuck.”

“There’s a bathroom right over there!”, he exclaimed, emphasizing his statement with a firm gesture towards said bathroom. Dan paid no mind to Phil’s suggestion and kept right on doing what he was doing. Phil, eyes wide, face rubicund, and a little disturbed at his cock’s growing interest, turned back to his device. He tried to make himself look busy but was, in reality, only pondering the wrongness of him being turned on because of Dan, his platonic best friend. Subtly, he sneaked a hand under his laptop to relieve some of the growing pressure and tried to ignore Dan again, which was hard to do, considering how loud and how often he moans and gasps.

Until the moment Dan uttered a strangled “Phil!”, he had built up a calm, yet jittery composure. Totally dazed at this point, he watched Dan from his peripheral vision. Sweat was dripping from his smooth skin, his hair slightly mussed, and one hand was tweaking a nipple while the other smeared beads of precome over his tip. Dan lifted his legs up from the bed and traced his hand that was previously on his nipple up to his mouth and began to suck on it. Slick fingers made their way down to his rim and traced a few light circles before he harshly pushed one in. Though he was wincing because of the pain, he kept thrusting his finger in and out gently. Eventually, his movements became more smooth, natural, and pleasurable, as was apparent to Phil because of the noises he emitted.

“Daddy, God, please!”, he all-but-whispered when his fingers brushed his prostate

“That’s enough!” Phil shouted, voice gruff and bold, as he rose from his chair, placing his laptop where he once sat. Dan immediately stopped all actions and stared at Phil through his wide doe eyes.

“I’m sorry, Phil. I didn’t mean to actually bother you!”, Dan spewed. Though he was sincerely apologetic, the dominance of Phil’s tone went straight to his dick. He hoped he didn’t notice the shiver that surged through him.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. If you’re going to act like a bad boy, you’re going to be treated like one.” Dan’s already wide eyes enlarged even further as Phil stalked over to the foot of his bed and climbed between his spread legs.

Suddenly soft, Phil asked, “Is this okay? Tell me if you want me to stop.”, as one hand removed Dan’s fingers from inside himself and the other reached for his dick. He nodded with fervor. Just as quickly as Phil slipped out of his tough persona, he jumped back in. He dragged his hand along the length of Dan’s cock teasingly and smirked up at him.

“So, Daddy, huh?” Dan face flushed in embarrassment as he nodded. “It’s hot.” Phil’s hands swept up Dan’s thighs and one moved to his ass, where he traced his rim. His legs immediately spread out, awaiting Phil.

Phil scoffed. “You think Daddy’s gonna let you have it that easily?” Dan shrugged. Phil removed his and Dan’s pants, which were bunched at his feet, and climbed on top of him, grinding down hard a few times. He gripped Dan’s dick, jerked it briefly, then suspended all movement. Dan was totally confused.

He said, “No, princess, you have to beg for it.”

Dan shuddered at the nickname and request, his submissive self willing to do anything for Daddy. “Please, Daddy, I want you to touch me, please, fuck me with your huge cock. I wanna feel for days. Please, please Daddy.”, he whined. Phil, seemingly satisfied with his words, pushed Dan’s legs up to his chest.

“Lube?”, he asked.

“My bag in the bathroom.” Dan swears he’s never seen Phil run that fast (and willingly) in his life. Upon returning, Phil popped open the bottle and coated his cock in the slick liquid. 

“Need any more stretching?”, he asked, throwing one of Dan’s legs over his shoulder.

“Think I can handle it.”, he mumbled.

“Good, because I don’t think I could have waited any longer.” Slowly, he pushed into Dan, who was biting his lip and wincing slightly. Beautiful, as always, Phil thought. Once he was in all the way, he waited about three seconds before pulling out and slamming back in over and over, eventually finding his prostate and totally destroying the quivering Dan.

“God, baby, you’re so gorgeous.”

“Fuck, Daddy, ah, thank you, it’s so good. Harder, harder, please Daddy, harder.” Dan said chanted screamed, followed by an endless stream of curses and moans.

Those moans, exclamations, and praises (which Dan seemed to thrive for) were all that could be heard in their room (and the next, and the next, and the next…), until Dan released one final shout, coming across his chest. Phil followed a few deep thrusts after, coming hard buried in Dan’s plump ass.

“Well..”, Phil started removing himself from inside Dan, “…that was something.”, Dan finished with him. They both giggled and curled up with each other, also simultaneously grimacing at the mess they’ve made and couldn’t be bothered to clean up right then.

the karma of kismet / the first knot

The bond which binds us together.

pairing: chae hyungwon/reader

genre: romance and fluff

word count: 2.805

author’s note: this is a soulmate au!

According to an East Asian folklore, there is a red string of fate which connects those who are destined to meet regardless of time, place or circumstance. They say this thread may stretch or tangle, but the bond will never break. The invisible twine is their winsome way of finding one another.

On the opposite end of the cord stands your soul mate, who has been tied together with you at the pinky since birth. Every time you meet each other, the link tugs at your little finger to act as a gentle reminder of whom you are bound with.The surrounding world as you know it will turn black and white, and it is then when the thread lovingly glows a garnet hue upon gazing at the strand, highlighting the importance of this fateful encounter. The vermilion color is traditionally symbolic for good luck and happiness; emotions which create an indelible bond of the immaterial string that secures the tie between you and your soul mate.

It was by far the most auspicious fairy tale you’ve ever heard of. This myth had been around for many millennia, since the dawn of time, yet you still couldn’t quite believe in its promising truth. The red string of fate would be the realest thing you’d ever experience other than death, your ancestors would whisper in the wind, the words warmly wrapping around your adolescent heart. It satisfies the soul upon gazing at its subtle lithe, filling the spirit with a sense of belonging and exuberance from a heaven-sent love.

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Middle school dances have become a lot more interesting, to say the least.

You spend the second duration of the Father-Daughter dance guiding Maya through the steps and watching the twinkle in her eye when you do, she wraps her little fingers around your palm and stands on your feet, and the both of you sway to the rhythm. In that moment you are reminded that she is yours, just like Riley, you watched her grow and develop and your heart swells up with pride when she looks up, meets your gaze and smiles softly. It’s a moment of pure bliss, and you cherish it.

And then, when her grip loosens from yours and the dance is over, the serendipity is removed from the atmosphere. Enter Lucas Friar, in all his cowboy-hat-donning glory, offering his hand to Riley when you least expect it—he circles his arm around her waist when she takes it and she smiles sheepishly in return, her cheeks blossoming to a darker shade of red.

“Leave them be,” instructs Topanga, holding on to your arm as you inch closer to the dance floor.

You reside at the refreshments corner, sulking as you chug down your (third?) dose of fruit punch. Sighing into your red cup, you observe as your daughter maintains a distance from Friar—she places her hands on his shoulder, he places his on her hips, and they are far apart. A sort of comfort looms over you, which causes your wife to smile subtly as she retreats to fulfill her other chaperone duties.

“The hat’s just for me, isn’t it?”

It is the Hart girl, while being dipped by Farkle, who says this. Her tone is sharp and spunky, and Lucas responds with an equally snarky grin. Then, she smirks. “You really put thought into our little game, don’t you?”

“I actually do.”

It’s all smiles from there—bright-eyed glances, tongue-in-cheek remarks, roses placed in between pearly whites, and fondly toasting to a better school year ahead.

When the last batch of students begins clearing out, you assist the janitor in his effort to tidy the area, so you spend the remnants of your evening collecting tossed plastic red cups and disposing unfinished appetizers. It’s relatively uneventful—Riley kisses you on the cheek and tells you she’ll be waiting with Farkle for his town car to arrive since it’s his first time staying out past his usual bedtime of seven-fifteen and she doesn’t want him to pass out in the middle of the school, so you’re left alone in the middle of the semi-empty hall.

“So, just what am I supposed to do with this rose exactly?” she asks Lucas from across the room, her combat boot pressed against the white walls as she leans against it. Her fingers twirl the rubicund flower in question, a shade that matches her lipstick. For a moment you wonder if it was intentional. “Plant it in my garden and hope it wins a blue ribbon at the annual county fair?”

“You do whatever it is that your pretty lil’ heart desires, ma'am,” he replies, tipping his head. She purses her lips, oceanic lenses flaring.

“Well, aren’t you sweet?” is all she says as she leers at him, her voice is dry. A short pause, and then, “you still aren’t playing this game right.”

“Oh,” he says, inching towards her. “I think I am.”


extract from heard it through the grapevine

synopsis: the progressing relationship of lucas and maya told through the perspective of cory matthews.

Amnesiac (Franticshipping)


Word count: 6,299

Pairings: Franticshipping (Ruby/Sapphire)

Of all things she could conquer, his heart was the missing puzzle piece.

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For Writers--Different words for “RED“

I am compliling a list for aspiring writers. Feel free to add to the list.(Some shades of red on this list are darker, lighter, or with different undertones, than your standard red…but then again red does have many tones and shades)

Keep in mind, don’t overuse these words. Use them sparingly for impact, otherwise you cheapen it with over use.

Check out my other lists here:

And More


Ruby                       Crimson                       Brick                       Garnet
Claret                      Rose                           Strawberry               Rust
Firetruck                  Siren                         Burgundy            Blush/ Flushed         
Cardinal                  Robin’s Breast             Fire/ Flame              Lava / magma
Rouge                     Volcano                     Mars (Mars Dust)       Poppy
Columbine               Salmon                       Cherry                      Cerise
Wine                        Yarrow                        Phoenix               Inflammed/ irritated
Blood (Blood clot)    Rubicund                     Coral                        Crab / Lobster
Sun                          Scarlet                        Maroon                    Chestnut
Carmine                   Vermillion                    Burnt                       Singed 
Raging                     Ruddy                         Blaze                        Fever
Scorched                  Ember                        Cinnabar                  Watermelon
Rose Quartz             Pepper                       Chili                          Grapefruit
Peony                       Artery                         Sunstone                  Carnelian
Red Beryl                 Fire Opal                     Raspberry                Tomato
Lady Bug                  Fox                             Rosaceous/ rosey        Apple
Rooster                     Rhubarb                      Pomegranate              Paprika
Dark Raspberry         Candycane                 Sunburn                     Pink Garnet
Cadmium                   Venetian Red              Terra Cotta                Autumn Red
Black Cherry              Heart Throb                Dragon Fruit              Salsa
Licorice                      Candy                         Valentine                   Ginger
Hollyhock                   Stop Sign                    Royal Red                  Lust
Mohogany                 Red Lacquer              Sex (metaphorically)     Passion
Cayenne                    Iron Oxide                   Raw Meat                    Bromine        Embarassed                Rash                  Sequioa/ Redwood            Raddish              Flushed/ Flustered      Beetroot                 Red ochre                      Fire Ant
Cranberry                 Kidney (bean and human organ)                Burnt Sienna
Ketchup                      Red/ Desert Clay          Blood Orange            Grapefruit
Annatto                        Lips                             Red Velvet Cake       Inferno
Merlot                          Pinot Noir                     Blister                    Bug Bite
Scab                            Acne                            Harvest Moon         Intestine
Dragon’s Breath           Furnace                      Hot Coals             Red Sandstone

Mind you, some colors are not appropriate for certain characteristics…for instance, you wouldn’t call a man’s angry face “valentine”….because “valentine implies something sweet.  Call his complexion “Fiery” or “Lava” to imply anger as well as the color.

Likewise, don’t call a soldier’s red uniform “Cherry”….because that seems too weak for a soldier…..Call it something like “Siren red” or “stop sign red”, “artery” or “blood” to imply authority, and maybe to describe their profession in a subtle way.

A woman in a red cocktail dress can be “salsa”, “rose”, candy red” or “the color of sex/ passion/ lust”, to imply what kind of sexy she is.

The underlying red of a baby’s new flesh can be “strawberry” or “blush” to imply something sweet and soft. Don’t call it something like “sunburn” because that just sounds painful for a baby.

Different colors imply different feelings. Use them well!


Title: A Life worth Living
Rating: K+
Words: around 3k
Summary: How they spent the night after war at the hospital, only they will know. A night filled with pain, regrets and heartbreak but most of all love. / Post-war, pre-the last sasusaku fan fiction.
A/N: Ever wondered what happened after Naruto and Sasuke’s battle? When the war ended and their arms were treated? And what if some sasuke and sakura encounters happened at the hospital? After all, she’s the top medic of Konoha.
Well, its just my imagination. I hope you like it. ~have a nice day!
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Black crows having blood-red sharingans in the orbits of their skulls, flew haphazardly screaming hurtful voices. The red sky and the deathly atmosphere, made his heart to beat faster and faster with every passing second. He ran and ran, trying to escape from his detriment past.

He was the same helpless, poor boy who had lost his family due to a reason he was unconcerned of, again.

He ran desparately from that fear, trying to not re-live the tragedy that once turned him into something he was not.

Something he had never wanted to be.

Keep reading

A winter wonderland

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you delicately pull your sleepy three year old from her car seat, “mmm.” She sounds, stirring as she nestles into the crook of your neck.
“C'mon sweetie we are here.” You chime, trying to stop her sleepy state from occurring.
“Where’s daddy?” She babbles, the same question she’s been requesting the past week. “I want Daddy.” She persists, her little legs beginning to wiggle, an indication she’s close to throwing a fit from tiredness and from missing her father. “‘ey now, Daddy will be home soon, look hon, there’s so many lights!” Harry’s sister cheerfully clarifies, pointing to the string of Aureate lights wrapped flawlessly around a jolly tree at the entrance of: “A winter wonder land.”
“I want Daddy.” Your daughter pitifully sniffles, holding back tears.
“I want some cuddles, can I have cuddles?” Gemma cracks a smile, carefully taking her niece from your arms— giving you the chance to grasp the blanket your daughter kicked to the floor of the car while on route to see the lights. You clutch the blanket and close the door, placing the blanket around your little girl as Gemma bounces her and coos at the lights. “You’re just like your father, not fascinated by darling lights.” Gemma huffs, looking towards you as you nod, yes. She’s not wrong. Harry loathes gazing at lights, he says there’s absolutely no concept to staring at twinkling lights. It’s full of false sentiment according to him. Whatever that means. Every other aspect of Christmas though he adores, the carols, the movies, the food, oh how he cherishes the Christmas food so dearly. A small cough escapes your little girl’s mouth as she sighs and settles down in the arms of her aunt. “Are you ready for the lights sweet girl?” Gemma grins, seeming more fascinated than the three year old she’s trying to coax.
“I want Daddy.” Your little girl pronounces with a lisp, apparently unamused as all three of you walk towards the gate of the wonderland. You pay the entrance fee and walk through the gates, hoping your daughter becomes high-spirited by the flickering lights on this moderately cold night. “Speaking of which. Where is my baby brother?” Gemma questions,
“He said he’d fly in tonight. I haven’t heard from him since four this morning.”

“Yikes, why so early?”

“Your niece is a daddy’s girl and insisted on calling.” You wear a smile, watching as Gemma chuckles and kisses her nieces cheek,
“Daddy’s girl, hm?” She chimes, your little girl paying her no attention. “C'mon love bug, cheer up for us.” She furthers as you glance at the delightful scenery; the scent of pine trees mist the frosty air. Jack Frost certainly has done his duties tonight, sparking nothing but brittle chills for the night out of Christmas light gazing. “Aren’t they pretty.” You point to the string of Coruscating, Incandescent lights that flow warmly against the fences. “Look, baby. Look at the pretty snowman.” You gesture towards the winter display of many snowmen surrounded by snow. To your bitter disappointment your daughter shows no interest what so ever. You shrug and continue to walk through the endearing display of lights, taking in the decoration and discussing the adoring setups with Gemma. The soft hums of Gemma humming a Christmas carol becomes audible and you smile to yourself, taking note of your daughter who’s just now beginning to lift her head and gaze at the lights. A bell chimes; laughter and gasps of children fill the air. “Ah, did you hear that?” You crack a smile, observing as your daughter bobs her head around, unsure of the unfamiliar sound. “Do you know what the bell means?” You question, noticing her stunning eyes continue to dart around. She shakes her head. “I think Santa is here.” You utter abruptly and in great haste, hoping to get her to smile with joyousness.
“Oh boy oh boy, I wanna see Santa!” Gemma passionately blurts out, lightheartedly bouncing her niece. “Let’s find him.” She instructs, walking along the pathway with the other parents and joyful children. “Santa.” Your little girl at last beams, pointing towards the man in a rubicund suit—waving a bell and sending greetings to those who pass. “Should we say hi?” You grin at your little girl, her legs fervently bouncing around. She nods, yes and Gemma places her on her feet. “You two go, I’ll wait here.” You gesture for them to go see Santa, enjoying having the chance to watch from a distance. Plus, once your daughter gets closer to Santa she will go timid and it’s more fun to watch Gemma try break her from her coyness.
“Excuse me, it appears you’re in the way and I’m trying eagerly to get to my lovely girl.” A familiar voice strikes you from behind, you turn on your heel and meet eyes with the deep verdant eyed, curly haired man that you met seven years ago at a Christmas gala.
“Sir, I’m graciously asking you to step around me as I am waiting restlessly for a remarkable man.” You wink with quite the grin written on your face.
“Hi, sweetheart.” He greats with a grin,
“Hi, handsome.” You answer back, waiting for his lips to finally meet yours. He leans down and places a soft kiss your cold lips,
“It’s about time you get back to London.” You announce, watching as he playfully rolls his eyes,
“I know, I know. In my defence it’s not my fault, promise.” He whispers, wrapping his arms around you,
“Yeah, whatever you say.” You tease, intentionally hassling his nerves just to watch him pout.

“I didn’t fly all this way on Christmas Eve to have you be sassy.”

“Well, I guess that’s too bad, Mister.”

“Whatever Missus. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“Where’s my little princess?”

“Over with Santa. She’s been very naughty and grumpy tonight.”

“Mm, how so?” He challenges with a raised brow. His daughter, naughty and grumpy? Never.

“She threw a fit before we left the house, and she hasn’t been too joyful since we got here. She didn’t smile until we heard Santa. She missed you like crazy.” You inform him, watching as he sighs and nods. His eyes a clear indication that hearing his daughter has missed him dearly breaks his heart.

“Uh, I think she’s had enough of Santa.” Harry gestures towards his sister holding her niece, once again nestled into her neck. Gemma sees the two of you and wears a smile, gently placing her niece to stand on her feet, signaling to the two of you. Your daughters eyes look up and instantly brightens before her little legs scurry to you both. Harry bends down as she nears closer, opening his arms as she runs right into them. He picks her up and stands back up, his arms wrapping around his little girl. “Ah, there’s my girl. Big hugs.” He chimes, her little arms wrapping around his neck. “I’ve missed you.” He says in a low voice, holding her close.
“I miss you daddy.” She broadcasts adorably. Harry’s sister takes your side, a smile wide on her face.
“About time you get your tail back to London. I actually missed your annoying self.” His sister bids welcome to him with a sneering smile,
“Gemma, always such a lovely greeting I receive from you.” He chuckles with a slight nod.

“I’d say it’s heartwarming.” She smiles with affectation, your daughter deciding to take her Daddy’s attention again.
“Daddy, I saw Santa.” She lisps.
“Did you?” Harry gasps, looking at his little girl, his eyes full of love and delight.
“Yes. Mummy says he’s climbing down the chim.. chim. Chim… tonight, is that true?” She pronounces with a lisp, struggling to utter out the word chimney.
“Chimney, baby, it’s chimney.” Harry stifles a laugh, “and yes, it’s true. But only if you’ve been a good girl. Have you been good for mummy?” Harry sweetly asks, the four of you beginning to walk and perceives the lights up ahead.
“Maybe.” Your daughter mutters, hiding her face into Harry’s neck, an indication she knows she’s been somewhat rascally the past few days.
“Mm, I see. Well, we will wait and see if Santa thinks you’ve been good.”
“Daddy, how does he know?” Your daughter quaintly questions, lifting her head to stare at her Dad. He looks at you and you gaze at him, eager to hear his response.
“Uhm, the Elves tell him.” He clears his throat,
“Well, you know how there’s the elf hanging near the tree? He watches and tells Santa.”
“But what about when we are out?”
“Erm… uh.. well, Santa has a telescope in the sky he also watches. So if you’re naughty and the Elves aren’t around, he sees it on the telescope,” Harry informs your curious daughter and she settles with his answer. He places a kiss to her cheek before she nestles back into his neck, becoming sleepy yet again. “Guess it’s us three.” He announces gently, taking your hand.
“She doesn’t like the lights much.” You inform Harry,
“Neither do I. She’s definitely my child.” He confirms with a nod,
“That’s what I said!” Gemma interjects, causing all three of you to chuckle good-humoredly before continuing to appreciate the lights and Christmas spirit.

Her hair was like burnished copper, streaked with flaming shafts of radiance cast by the dying sun, bleeding red on the horizon.  The splotch of freckles thrown across her dewy skin was filtered rubicund in this light, eerily reminiscent of splattered plasma thrown across the ridge of her nose, her cheeks.  There were colorful feathers in her hair, woven into the straight waterfall of red, and these, too, (even polychromatic as they were) had caught the light and sparked crimson.

He did not even need to utter a command to his sentinels — those few that remained had already splayed out, moving wraithlike through the long shadows cast by the charred remains of the Dalish aravels.  He knew already what they would find — or what they wouldnt

Abelas might have glanced down at the artifact taken into his care — an ancient elvhen device, older than himself.  Older, perhaps, than Arlathan itself, but not even he could  not ascertain all its secrets, not even from this artifact with which he had once been so familiar.

{ perhaps it was no wonder he had been led
here, to the ruin of the People, to this girl—

—But he did not need to look.  The artifact had brought him to this place, and the girl would lead him in turn.  He knew that she was the last of the People that lingered here, in this place that had once been full of life.  It was now little more than a graveyard, and Falon’Din had long ago abandoned his charges to the Void.

Whatever could be gleaned from this smoking ruin of a camp would be information alone — the only survivor stood before him, her eyes bright and intelligent.  Yet Abelas was old, and he could read in the youth that which was not advertised in words.  Her eyes showed the fear that she would not admit, and he looked down at the blood on his hands.  It was hours old, dried into pitch and flecked off the oxidized bronze of his gauntlets.  The symbolism was already enough to twist his gut, to curl his lips into something bitter and cruel — but he did not.  He was as stoic as a carved slab of veined marble, even as the metallic tinge of blood sat heavy in the air.

There was a pregnant silence between them, and the former sentinel knelt with deliberate slowness.  His eyes were nearer to level with her own, and he captured her with the focused intensity of his gaze.  The artifact had given him a vision of this girl, saved only by the virtue of luck - or fate - and pinned as her own mother had bled out over her.  The enemy had not seen.  And so she lived, even as the others had died.  Abelas was not one to be moved by feelings of pity, but he did understand what it was to be alone and without a people.  Without purpose.

“You’ve a destiny, da’len."   He would not offer her words of comfort.  Nothing he could do would censure the pain, the unjustice done her.  The maddened apostate he had slain — possessed, and leading a bad of marauders — would not undo, in death, the horrors they had committed in life.  There was only the assurance that they would trouble only her memories.  Nothing more.  "Nothing can take that destiny from you.”

In his piety - or his z e a l o t r y - he was confident that Mythal’s hand had guided him here.  He knew not what role this girl might play in the unfolding story that was yet to come — but he was certain of her definite place in it.  Abelas had never believed himself the foci around which all things necessarily pivoted.  He had been pledged to the goddess’ service as a youth, and in it he would stay, he felt, as long as he drew breath.  Even when there was no clear place for him, not in this brave new world — he would stay.

Beneath long red lashes, her eyes were large and clear.  There were doubts, he was sure, that must have churned within her, but any sign of it could not be seen.  To his tremendous surprise, she reached out and enfolded his hand within her own, no longer afraid.  She was not beholden to sorrows, as he was.  Even in the midst of all this death, she had found reason to smile — she had seen a stranger do her a kindness, and she would see it returned in time.  It was not something that Abelas could fully comprehend, this elasticity of spirit.  This hope that she carried, burning brightly, in her breast.

“I know.” She said.  “My name is Sanaa.”

And her words were laden with the promise of change.

anonymous asked:

Elmer, what are tomorrows affairs ?

Scarce Had Thee Rubicund Apollo Spread O'er The Face Of The Broad Spacious Earth The Golden Threads Of His Bright Hair, Scarce Had The Little Birds Of Painted Plumage Attuned Their Notes To Hail With Dulcet And Mellifluous Harmony The Coming Of The Rosy Dawn, That, Deserting The Soft Couch Of Her Jealous Spouse, Was Appearing To Mortals At The Gates And Balconies Of The Sand’s Horizon, When The Renowned Boy Ape Elmer Of The Primordial Stump, Quitting The Lazy Down, Joins His Celebrated Neice Sound Cloud And Began To Traverse The Eternal And Famous Harenarum