Blond - Tumblr Posts - Page 2
꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷ εϊз
0:14 : ゃ if the sky is pink + white ⑅ if the ground is black + yellow ֶָ 🩰
ৎ୭
May I take your order?
Your friend told you about a local ‘gym’ ran by a guy out of his shed, he swore by it and said that it was a great way to relax after work. So you decided to give it a try. The ‘gym’ was a bit of a wreck, but the owner himself was the complete opposite, and he had no trouble in spotting for people. You would always make sure to put the weights at such a height that you could stare at his bulging crotch as you lifted weights.
Similar to Bright Yellow Green:
Lemon Green - #ADF802
Acid Green - #8FFE09
ArtyClick Lime - #BFFF00
Chartreuse - #C1F80A
Similar to Chiffon:
Mimosa - #F8FDD3
Snow Flurry - #E4FFD1
Light Goldenrod Yellow - #FAFAD2
Spring Sun - #F6FFDC
Similar to White:
Romance - #FFFEFD
Ceramic - #FCFFF9
Pale Grey - #FDFDFE
Milk White - #FEFCFF
Similar to Buttermilk:
Egg White - #FFEFC1
Blond - #FAF0BE
Lemon Chiffon - #FFF8C6
Barley White - #FFF4CE
Similar to Creole:
Acadia - #1B1404
Wood Bark - #261105
Asphalt - #130A06
Graphite - #251607
Sour Apple Peels
#a6ff00 | #eeffd0 | #ffffff | #fff4ba | #1e0c0c
Saga of the North Wind … Wynd pushes aside the tent flap and steps into the darkness of the spirit lodge.
Seramet sits cross-legged on the far side of a small fire that burns in the center of the yurt. Periodically, she reaches into a leather pouch on her lap and draws forth a handful of what look like twigs and leaves, throwing them onto the fire where they crackle and burn, giving forth a thick, aromatic smoke that swirls lazily through the air and up to the smoke hole in the roof.
The shaman looks up and gestures for Wynd to take a seat opposite her. “I saw the signal,” Wynd says, sitting down. “What happens now?”
Seramet pulls another handful of leaves from the bag and throws them onto the fire. The smoke in the room starts to get thicker. “Venturing into the spirit world,” she says, “is not like walking down a well-trodden path. It is more akin to a fisherman dropping a line in the water, not knowing what he is going to catch but hoping that something takes the bait.” “So we are the fishermen, and the gods are the fish?” “Perhaps,” she says. “Sometimes it’s the other way around. In any case, you must prepare for another journey into the spirit world.”
(My OC Wynd from the tribe of the Pale Moon. Story: Saga of the North Wind written by Tom Knights.)