Novel & Cerita Hot Pink Aesthetic

Unrealistic rooms favoured with the goodness of pink that was usually owned by daughters of emperors in faraway fairy tales kingdom and to be frank, Hilary Stanley was a human who was just living a pretty similar life. There was a particular attribute to Hilary's room, or preharps chamber, that was reflective of her spirit and even if you know nothing about her, coming to her room would make you sure of some particular favourites of her. And that was, her love for pink, the calming colour associated with feminity, kindness and love; and fashion, an antique art made with creativity and innovation.

the redhead stopped, noticing again her lady's neon pink nails, "...especially expressive shades of clean." "Then, at that point, permit me to propose," Potty painstakingly pulled a radiant green container from her pack, "I know it's a little... mm, cliché," she held it facing Lannie's hand, "seeing as you're, indeed, Irish, yet I additionally figure it would work extraordinary with your hair and appearance. On the off chance that you'll let me?" "Whatever you think works best," the young lady flushed, gesturing.

I internally gag trying to hide my horror. “I had the room redone for you.” as she walked towards the windows pulling back the drapes. I cringe trying to force a smile “Oh, you shouldn’t have.” Jean just smiles “It’s no problem, I’m glad I could help.” Pink is literally my least favorite color as I try to stomach the sight of the room. Walls, ceiling, rugs, bedding, curtains, furniture, accessories, basically everything is in different shades of pink. How on Earth can someone like pink this much. Then I stop myself, oh yeah we aren’t on Earth anymore. Thinking back to my home and family a sad feeling aches inside of me.

“Nah, we don’t want it to be a secret admirer thing. She needs to know they’re from him.” Nodding in agreement, Isobel ticked off another finger. “Dark pink is for appreciation and gratitude. Light pink is admiration, sympathy, grace, joy, and sweetness. Orange is fascination, desire, or enthusiasm. Peach is appreciation, closing the deal, or getting together.” “Seriously,” I murmured, staring at her in awe. “How do you know all this?” Isobel just kept going. “Coral is for desire. Lavender is love at first sight. Yellow with red tips are friendship and falling in love. A mix of red and white roses means—”

"You enjoy that color?" "Nothing's wrong with pink. It's the color of nipples and pussy—both my favorite things." He glared at me from behind the rim of his champagne, savoring a slow drink as his lips stretched wide into a mocking smirk. "Am I reading prejudice here? What's wrong with a guy adoring pink?" "Nothing whatsoever. You just radiate purple energy." "Why do I—" he started. Then he tossed his head and laughed. "You know what? No way is he going to ask us about our favorite colors or sex acts. He probably figures fucking around with his anus is like signing the lease on a new apartment in hell with your cock."

Every fucking time that passes, Isabelle remains number one more than before. The interior designer arrives an hour later. Her name is Clara, sharp-eyed, and very attentive. “I want this done right,” I tell her immediately. “No compromises.” She nods, pen poised. “Tell me everything.” I walk through the space slowly, hands in my pockets, the vision unfolding clearly in my mind. “It needs to be pink,” I begin. “Not childish or the loud kind of pink. It should be soft, curated pink, elegant, and warm.”

Finally, I got the pink color, not the accurate pink but pink. ••••••••••••••••• H.LOCKHART.

We were tucked away in a corner where the only other patrons were high-end art dealers who were too busy with their commissions to notice the woman with the bloodshot eyes and the shaking hands. I looked down at the screen. It was a social media profile of a woman—vibrant, bold, and undeniably younger. Her feed was a curated mess of neon lights, expensive cocktails, and a face that was the definition of modern beauty. And there, in every second photo, were her lips. Painted in that exact, sickeningly sweet shade: Soft Nude Pink.

It felt good to be back here. The walls were a different shade of pink. On the northernmost part of the wall where the head of her bed was located was covered in a wallpaper with rose pink background and luscious fuschia pink flowers. The westernmost part where her windows were located was painted in the palest shade of pastel pink, almost the same shade as her window frames. The other side of the wall— her workspace and reading area was painted in carnation and every other shade of pink there was. It was mostly an outbursts of pink, her favorite color. She had maintained this color since she was a kid and she didn't see that love for the color dwindling anytime soon.

She smiled at me, beamed really, before she looked back down at that binder. “I say add some pink. I would rock a salmon pink.” They both laughed at my comment, making me smile, because who doesn’t love to hear their loved ones be happy? “I could see that,” Lisa winked. “Yay! We’ll have pink flowers and do white accents. I think that would look pretty.” Calliope nodded her little head as she pointed to some flowers in the book. “I agree.” This moment was perfect. ____________________________________