#blue and gilt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

muppetebbtide · 2 months

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discworld dashboard simulator

❓ ankhmorporkpolls

🧙🏻 blackalisstan

This is like that tsortian guy who had to pick between goddesses and started a war and then died. Or like paying the assassin's guild to kill you

🔪 treefroghousealumni follow

*inhume

🧙🏻 blackalisstan

piss off you posh knob

🍴 priestessofanoia

tbf I don't think the watch is wasting its time on this blue hellsite so ur probably safe there. the POSTMASTER however...

#sometimes I think only bloody stupid johnson could have come up with this fucking site

10,435 notes

🪻watchofficial follow

ALL'S WELL!

🍴 priestessofanoia

nvm lmao 😭

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☕ klatchmeifyoucan follow

#ppl on here are actually sooooo ankh morpork centric it's insane #'EVERYONE knows webblethorpe the unconscious' who??? why the fuck should I??? #like HELLO there's other places on the disc? #and klatch is NICER like omg

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unseenuniconfessions reblogged:

🦧 unseenuniversitylibrary

Ook

#SO TRUE KING

100,034 notes

Anonymous asked:

Is lord vetinari gay

🪄ramtopswitches answered:

Why would you ask us, a ramtops witches blog, this

50,432 notes

🔮 uucompetitiveeatingchamp follow

CALLOUT: @ /spanglersal (deactivated)

• started a Kickstarter to crowdfund a click of Captain Vimes & Errol then disappeared with the money and has gone completely ghost on everyone

• apparently stole over 100k

• cringe

2000 notes

Anonymous asked:

Blessings be upon this askbox

🌷queen-of-lancre answered:

I don't know if this is nanny pretending to be granny, or if it's actually granny, and I think I'm too scared to find out

435 notes

cmot-dibbler-enterprises sponsored

SAUSAGES INNA BUN ‼️‼️‼️‼️🌭🌭🌭🌭

🏚️ throwingshades

Gonna go skating on the frozen river ankh!!

💀 nojusticejustus

HAVE FUN

🏚️ throwingshades

Thanks man!

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✉️ ampostofficeofficial follow

🐸 bursaaaaaaaaar

is. is the post office posting crab rave bc reacher gilt just turned up dead

7013 notes

🧳 agateantravels follow

The Crumley's Hogswatch grotto is being advertised again but somehow I just don't think they can top last year's... like idk where they got the budget from but the real pigs?? CRAZY. my little sister asked for a pony and there was just one in the house when we got back like?? My mum was PISSED but yes talk abt Hogswatch magic. Still wonder how they pulled it off

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💖 angelofmusic

It's literally SO unfunny to be making jokes about the Opera Ghost when you all KNOW I saw so many of my friends DIE last year??? I literally have so much PTSD from it... like it's so insensitive you're all actually the WORST

#vent #don't rb #some of you will say ANYTHING for a cheap laugh :(

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🐊 genuablogging

My dealer: got some straight gas 🔥😛 this strain is called “narrative causality” 😳 you’ll be zonked out of your gourd 💯

Me: yeah whatever. I don’t feel shit.

5 minutes later: dude I swear I just saw the Duc turn into a frog

My buddy Mrs Pleasant, pacing: Lilith de Tempscire is lying to us

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#no idea if this is even funny. whatever! I had fun!#discworld #terry pratchett #gnu terry pratchett #witches abroad #going postal #hogfather #maskerade #tumblr simulator #dashboard simulator #my post #tag edit: I did not realise today was the anniversary of Terry's passing... but it certainly serves as a tribute!? gnu ledge

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charlesmansonatwar · 1 year

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Powder Room Bathroom in Chicago

#Example of a mid-sized eclectic beige tile and mirror tile marble floor powder room design with a two-piece toilet #blue walls #a console sink and marble countertops console sink #gilt #wallpaper #herringbone floor tile #marble floor

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thebeautifulbook · 11 days

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FLEUR DE LYS-SHAPED BOOK OF HOURS, in Latin, use of Rome (Paris, c. 1553). Illuminated manuscript on paper.

180 x 80mm. i + 117 leaves, each page with 24 lines written in a 'roman' hand in black ink within a liquid gold border in the shape of a half fleur de lys, spaces infilled with liquid gold fronds on blue or red grounds, line-fillers and one- and two-line initials of the same colours, eleven lobe-shaped miniatures. Nineteenth-century brown morocco gilt, semé with fleur de lys, doublures of red morocco gilt, edges gauffered and gilt (upper cover detached). [Christies Auction House, 2006 catalog]

source

#beautiful books #book blog #books books books #book cover #books #shaped book #fleur de lis #book of hours #latin language #treasure book #book design #book binding #old books

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memories-of-ancients · 5 months

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Gilt silver crown adorned with pearls and blue glass, Bohemia, 15th century

from The LA County Museum of Art

#history #antiquities #art #jewelry #jewellery

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ebonetnoir · 2 years

Link

Living Pages from Many Ages by Mary Hield

ILLUSTRATED

Publisher: Cassell Publishing Company

#history #short stories #living pages #Mary Hield #illustrated books #history books #antiquarian books #bookish gifts #bookish #books and libraries #booklr #old books #beautiful books #beautiful bindings #blue #gilt #illustrated

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armthearmour · 2 years

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A beautiful blue and gilt Armor for Ludovico II Pico, Duke of Mirandola, made in France, ca. 1555-1560, housed at the Knsthistorisches Museum, Vienna.

#armor #armour #blue and gilt #europe #european #france #french #renaissance #khm #vienna #art #history

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nemfrog · 3 months

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The birds. The children's blue bird. 1913. Cover detail.

Internet Archive

#bird #birds #blue and gold #cover art #covers #book cover #birds in flight #nature illustration #nemfrog #1913 #1910s #gold gilt

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girlsdressingrooms · 2 months

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Iris Barrel Apfel, Decorator and Fashion Stylist

(August 29, 1921 – March 1, 2024)

Ms. Apfel was one of the most vivacious personalities in the worlds of fashion, textiles, and interior design, she has cultivated a personal style that is both witty and exuberantly idiosyncratic.

Her originality was typically revealed in her mixing of high and low fashions—Dior haute couture with flea market finds, nineteenth-century ecclesiastical vestments with Dolce & Gabbana lizard trousers.

With remarkable panache and discernment, she combines colors, textures, and patterns without regard to period, provenance, and, ultimately, aesthetic conventions. Paradoxically, her richly layered combinations—even at their most extreme and baroque—project a boldly graphic modernity.

Iris Barrel was born on Aug. 29, 1921, in Astoria, Queens, the only child of Samuel Barrel, who owned a glass and mirror business, and his Russian-born wife, Sadye, who owned a fashion boutique.

She studied art history at New York University, then qualified to teach and did so briefly in Wisconsin before fleeing back to New York to work on Women's Wear Daily, and for interior designer Elinor Johnson, decorating apartments for resale and honing her talent for sourcing rare items before opening her own design firm. She was also an assistant to illustrator Robert Goodman.

As a distinguished collector and authority on antique fabrics, Iris Apfel has consulted on numerous restoration projects that include work at the White House that spanned nine presidencies from Harry Truman to Bill Clinton.

Along with her husband, Carl, she founded Old World Weavers, an international textile manufacturing company and ran it until they retired in 1992. The Apfels specialized in the reproduction of fabrics from the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries, and traveled to Europe twice a year in search of textiles they could not source in the United States.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute assembled 82 ensembles and 300 accessories from her personal collection in 2005 in a show about her called “Rara Avis”.

Almost overnight, Ms. Apfel became an international celebrity of pop fashion.

Ms. Apfel was seen in a television commercial for the French car DS 3, became the face of the Australian fashion brand Blue Illusion, and began a collaboration with the start-up WiseWear. A year later, Mattel created a one-of-a-kind Barbie doll in her image. Last year, she appeared in a beauty campaign for makeup with Ciaté London.

Six years after the Met show she started her fashion line "Rara Avis" with the Home Shopping Network.

She was cover girl of Dazed and Confused, among many other publications, window display artist at Bergdorf Goodman, designer and design consultant, then signed to IMG in 2019 as a model at age 97.

Ms. Iris Apfel became a visiting professor at the University of Texas at Austin in its Division of Textiles and Apparel, teaching about imagination, craft and tangible pleasures in a world of images.

In 2018, she published “Iris Apfel: Accidental Icon,” an autobiographical collection of musings, anecdotes and observations on life and style.

Ms. Apfel’s apartments in New York and Palm Beach were full of furnishings and tchotchkes that might have come from a Luis Buñuel film: porcelain cats, plush toys, statuary, ornate vases, gilt mirrors, fake fruit, stuffed parrots, paintings by Velázquez and Jean-Baptiste Greuze, a mannequin on an ostrich.

The Museum of Lifestyle & Fashion History in Boynton Beach, Florida, is designing a building that will house a dedicated gallery of Ms. Apfel's clothes, accessories, and furnishings.

Ms. Apfel’s work had a universal quality, It’s was a trend.

Rest in Power !

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detroitlib · 9 months

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The May Queen and other poems / Alfred Lord Tennyson ; designed, written out and illuminated by Alberto Sangorski. Rubricated and illuminated. Colophon: "This manuscript, selected poems of Alfred Lord Tennyson, The May Queen, The sea fairies, The beggar maid, Hero to Leander, and Dora was designed, written out, and illuminated by Alberto Sangorski for Messrs. R. Rivière & Son bookbinders & booksellers to H.M. King George V. London. This manuscript will not be duplicated. This manuscript was executed by me [signed] Alberto Sangorski London A.D. 1912."-- P. [63] Full blue morocco, inlaid and gilt in an over-all design with semi-precious stones and seed pearls, mounted on upper cover. Beige morocco doublures, inlaid with red, white and green morocco and gilt. Silk protective guards interleaved between some pages. All edges gilt. Stamp-signed on upper doublure: "Bound by Riviere & Son". In silk-lined green morocco folding case.

#alfred lord tennyson #tennyson #albert sangorski #books #poetry #poem #the sea fairie #mermaids #old books #book illustration #illuminated manuscript #detroit public library

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

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The Sticking Point 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, possible violence, illness, death, bullying, ableism, and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are sent in the place of your ailing sister to marry a stranger. (Regency AU)

Character: Loki

Note: Thanks you everyone who read the intro!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The main hall is bright and spacious. As alluded to by its name, Jade Hall is adorned in varying shades and cuts of the stone. Gilt frames, golden trays on glass lamps, crystal sconces housing amber flame, veined marble, and polished stone.

The large plinths at the base of the staircase seem unsuited to the statues atop them. Curling snakes of shining gold with great jade eyes and long curved fangs. A long rug of eastern patterns and tassled edges leads the path to the steps, arched and lined with curling banisters.

"Madam," the groom addresses your mother, "I will show you to your chambers."

"Thank you, sir," she accepts nobly as you give a dignified nod.

"You may refer to me as Parson, I am the master's personal groom. He has tasked me with your welcome."

"Oh how gracious," your mother remarks with a fawning grin, "he sounds like a true gentleman."

"He keeps an orderly house," the groom affirms.

"Immaculate," she looks around with her hand to her chest, "ugh, absolutely resplendent."

The groom bows his head and waves towards the stairs before proceeding. Your mother trails him and you follow after her. You glance around at the tall portraits, a woman with loose golden hair with a single haloed braid around her head. Another of a man with dark hair and thick beard, gleaming blue eyes, and an indomitable square jaw. His clothing belongs to a previous season.

You ascend and ease out a stunted breath, exhaling in short spurts as your heart races. You continue down a wide corridor, a standing jade vase beside a whitewashed table beneath a bowl of white lotuses floating in water. A peculiar decore but quaint.

A set of double doors is presented to your mother as the groom faces her with another respectable dip of his head, "Lady Thea, I will allow you to accommodate yourself. Then I shall show the younger to her own chambers. You will be summoned for lunch."

"Thank you, sir," your mother preens, "you must send my gratitude to your master. The duke is very generous."

"Yes, my lady, I will be certain to inform him," he avows, "lady," he looks at you, "you are not very far, just the very next."

He leads you onward as your mother enters her rooms with a dreamy sigh. Her mood has lightened since you left your father's estate. Perhaps being far away from home has cleared her mind of mourning.

You are stopped before a door carved with winding vines. The groom steps back to allow you to pass.

"My lady, if you require anything, there is a bell you may ring and I will be certain you are attended. I will have your maid join you shortly, and your luggage."

You look at his shoulder and attempt a smile, it might look more a grimace as your cheek strain. You swallow and muster some strength, "thank you, sir." Your last word floats at the end, not quiet a sharp R, more aw sound.

"Most honoured, my lady," he responds without pause, "and welcome home."

You bat your lashes and slowly turn to the door. You try to restrain your nerves as they swirl to a maelstrom. Home, is this truly it. Are you truly to be the Lady of Jade Park. Married to a man in place of your sister. An imposter.

You march through the door and the groom pulls the door shut in your stead. You bring your hands up, folding them over your chest. You have a blackness in your heart. You feel as if the world is empty. As if you're lost in it. As if you don't belong to the land of colour and light and life.

It is as much grief as it is dread. You miss your sister, you long for the past, and you fear the path ahead. The unknown is underlined with a certainty, deep inside, that you will as ever be less than you should.

🔹

There is a knock at the door. You break from your trance, reluctantly releasing the window sill and turning away from the sight of birds winging over the gardens. You sweep to the door and open it, facing the servant in their evergreen attire. A man with lines in his cheek and a dourness that darkens his sockets.

"My lady, lunch is served," he declares in a brittle timbre.

You nod and thank him, mouthing the word as your voice refuses to rise. You are taken down the corridor and the man fetches your mother from her chambers as well. She emerges with the aroma of roses. You suspect she was anxiously primping all the while.

You descend the stairs, the noise of the kitchen and shuffle of servants drawing you around to the sunroom near the rear of the house. A round table is set near the tall paned doors, open to let in the summer air. There are tiered trays of cut sandwiches, a tureen of creamy soup, a plate of colourful pastries and sugar cookies, along with a silver tea set and elaborately painted porcelain dishes.

You are shown to your seat and sit with some trepidation. It is only you and your mother amid the rush of servants. Where is the duke? Has he seen you and changed his mind? Is he not eager to meet you?

You keep your hands in your lap, squeezing a fold in your skirt as your mother admires the high ceilings and embroidered edges of the tablecloth. She comments on every detail; the thick brocade curtains drawn to the side, the settee with the knobby birch feet, the round-bellied fire stove set into an alcove; a mixture of eras mingled in a most natural allure.

"Parson," the deep voice chokes you and you shakily tilt your head, peeking form the corner of your eyes as you hear the approaching steps, "how can I be tardy when I am the host? Do not pester me."

You rise as your mother does for the entrance of the duke. For it must be him. He as good as announced it and his appearance all but confirms it. Tall, sleek, with a chin set high, and a nose just short of aquiline. He is handsome, pale, but sardonic. His green eyes remind you of the jade stones set into the serpentine statues near the stairs as he considers the table first then deigns to glance between you and your mother.

He approaches her and bows, his posture eased but refined.

"Lady Thea," he proclaims, "what great effort you did take to be here. No doubt a strenuous journey in this heat."

"Your grace, how generous of you to welcome us," your mother responds, "and I do apologise that our arrival was so delayed."

"Mmm," he shifts and lets his eyes wander to you, "and I regret the news of your firstborn."

"We hoped she would strengthen but... we also did not want to renounce our contract. My husband is a man of integrity."

"Surely, he is. I did think him much so when we met," he says as he strides towards you, fully turning in your direction. He offers a smaller bow, "you do look rather different than your sister."

You blanch. You don't know what to say. You thought he hadn't met Edith.

"However, we cannot always trust a portrait's likeness," his eyes flit in a way that unsettles you, "and I do know how different siblings can be."

Your mother gives a small hum, a reminder and reproach at once. You fix your shoulders and do your best to meet the duke's demeanour. You bow.

"Yaw gwace," you raise your head slowly.

You see the subtle twiddle in his long fingers, the way he brings them to touch the trim of his jacket, the tick in his jaw. The long breath that says more than he ever could. He leans back on his heel.

"Honoured to welcome you both," his tone betrays his judgement. How could he not notice? How could he not hear it? You are defective, not only in appearance but all else.

"And we are so grateful to be here. That we can continue on in this union of our names," your mother sits as a servant holds the back of her chair. The duke lowers himself as you do the same, watching the table.

"Mmm, yes, I have yet to discuss the amendment with my father but I'm certain they care not for which daughter I wed."

His meaning is clear. You are not as stupid as many believe. His father will not care but he very much does. Your insides freeze, cold and stiff, and you feel as if you might shatter. It is as bad as you expect, yet expectation rarely meets reality. No, it is worse. To sit and stew in being unwanted.

🔹

You sit at the vanity, watching your lips move. Over and over in the silent repetition. Slowly, painfully working at curving them, shaping them just right. In your head, you imagine the words clearly. ‘Your grace’.

You still and stare at your reflection. You summon your voice and pronounce the words aloud.

“Yow gwace,” you declare to yourself.

You try again. And again. Anon until your mouth aches from your endless attempts to get it right. The words are wrong. Two simple words and you can’t say them. Two syllables. You drop your head forward as you plant your elbows on the table and catch your forehead.

You see the duke’s disappointment. You feel it still. How could he not be utterly repulsed by you? He alluded to a portrait, no doubt he was sent an image of your sister, and how he would have been surprised to find her even more attractive than the artist’s rendering. But in you, he is entirely dissatisfied.

You blow out a long exhale and prop your chin up on the heels of your hand. You look at yourself through bleary eyes, tears wobbling just on the edge. You sit back and drop your hands, smoothing the front of your dress and over your skirts.

The embroidered brooch draws your gaze. The oval pendant your sister made you, a blue bird on its face. Your most treasured piece. She reminded you of it when you said your farewell and you assured her you could never forget it. She asked you to wear it at the wedding.

You cradle it in your hands and give a bittersweet smile. You think of those days you played in the pastures and hopped over the fence where the sheep chewed on grass. How she would fearlessly run between the thick-bodied beasts as you worried for being bit. She has always been the braver of you two.

You pin the brooch to your dress and admire it in your reflection. You push your shoulders back and force a smile. You look yourself in the face.

“Yow gwace, I am so honawed to be yow wife.”

Your words hang like a noose. You throw your hands up and grunt in frustration. Stupid! You sound insipid. No matter how you try, or how the words sound in your head, they just come out all muddled.

“Edith,” you whimper, “I cannot…”

You lean forward and hold your head once more. You sit, ears thrumming, temples pulsing, your whole being hot with despair. The futility floods you and makes it hard to breathe.

There’s a knock at the door. You push yourself up, dizzy as you teeter on your feet. You swallow and stand as straight as you can. You lift your chin.

“Come in,” you beckon firmly.

Doreen lets herself through and you can’t help the relief that flows through you. You could not face your mother or the duke or another stranger. You lower yourself back to the stool and rest an elbow on the table, sideways as the maid eases the door shut. She lingers there, her hand on the oblong handle, as if she thinks to pull it open and flee.

“Doween,” you murmur as concern winds its way up your spine and tingle in your nape.

“My lady,” she faces you and you hear a sudden shriek. Your mother.

Doreen lowers her lashes and puts her hand to her chest. A shroud falls over you, even as the sunshine casts a yellow glow through the room, even as birds titter without, and ornaments sparkle all around. Her tone says more than any words can. You slump and stare at the maid’s wool collar.

You feel along the front of your own dress and clasp your fingers around the brooch.

“Edith is dead,” you say before she can.

She sniffles and comes forward. You shy away, turning to the vanity as you unpin the pendant. You lay it down and stand. The maid halts, hovering as you walk to the window. The tweeting of the sparrow grows to cacophony then silence all at once. The sky fades and the greenery hazes to an ugly smear.

You told Edith you would be brave. So you must. You can never replace her truly, but you can keep your promise. For her.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #mcu #marvel #au #the sticking point #thor #avengers

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calirph · 16 days

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𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐒 & 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒.

First part of these quotes have been taken from the clips and trailers of bridgerton season three while the other part are taken from books with similar protagonists as penelope as well energy, meaning, some of this quotes are a bit suggestive and spicy on the realm of regency/period drama so beware. Change names, pronouns, and locations as you see fit.

I cannot live at home any longer.

I must take a husband.

Does my lady have a suitor in mind?

Brother, under what foreign sun did you apparently get so sturdy?

It seems as though every Bridgerton was born to attract notice.

For some of us the notice is very slight.

If a husband is what you seek, let me help you. Are we not friends?

I should like to see your skills as they are first.

How delightful to see you all.

I would not be angry if you found me to be a lost cause.

You must not say such things.

She's not seeking a husband in you, I hope.

No, I'm merely helping her find one.

Since when are you worried about Penelope?

That diamonds are not the only gems that sparkle.

Lord Debling. He is eager to take a wife this season.

You have done very well, Penelope. What more could you want?

Mother, do you believe the best foundation for love is friendship?

It is rare, but you must follow your heart.

What is the primary force that guides us along our paths? Is it our minds or our hearts?

Do you not need a chaperone?

I am in my third year on the marriage mart with no prospects to show for it. What would you call that?

Something wrong, Pen? Between us, I mean.

If you are going to make me say it out loud...I miss you.

You miss me, but you would never court me, is that correct?

I... -I overheard you...at my Mama's ball last season… telling everyone how you would never, ever court Penelope Featherington.

Perhaps we should go where there's somewhere more private.

Of course, you would never court me.

I am the laughingstock of the ton, even when I change my entire wardrobe.

Your eyes…A most remarkable shade of blue. And yet somehow, they shine even brighter when you are kind.

I'd m-- I might say something like that if you were a suitor.

Well, that was rather direct.

Brother, I should like a moment alone.

Oh. Dear, is Francesca quite well?

Well, she simply needed a moment. As do I.

I should like to use that moment to dance with my beautiful wife.

Please. Enjoy yourselves.

What is the delay?

You deserve better than a man who requires reforming.

It was much less frustrating being the pursued rather than the pursuer.

Kisses should not leave you satisfied. They should leave you wanting.

I've spent twenty-eight years doing what everyone around me expected me to do...being what everyone around me has expected me to be. And it's horrid to be someone else's vision of yourself.

Shall I tell you what I would do if I discovered I'd been a royal ass and had lost the only woman I'd ever really wanted?

You just impugned the honor of my future marchioness. Choose your seconds. I will see you at dawn.

If you intend to keep me from her, you had better have an army at your side.

What if I want the rogue, Gabriel?

Take me to bed, Gabriel. Give me a taste of scandal.

I think it's time to try riding astride.

If I am an empress, he is the only man worthy of being my emperor.

She must be a very talented courtesan.

How very fascinating. I’ve never met a courtesan, you know.

My choices are rather limited.

Shall we seal it with a kiss, then?

You see, when I agree to something, I do it wholeheartedly. That was not the kiss for which you came, little mouse.

The same cage as hers merely a different gilt.

For your beauty has quite ruined me for all others.

This gown is sinful.

So passionate, So eager. Open for me.

You know, Empress, men do not appreciate laughter at this particular moment. It's devastating to the self-confidence.

I agreed to remain, my lord. Not to remain silent.

Look at me, Empress. I want to see you come undone. I want to watch you go over the edge with me.

I'm not lovely.

There is nothing plain about you.

You're enjoying my discomfort.

How am I different?

Selene is not the happiest of stories. After all, she is doomed to love a mortal in eternal sleep.

You are my gift. I shall unwrap you.

Are you aching for me here?

You know exactly what you want, despite never having had it before.

That is the thing about monsters, Pettypeace. They are monsters because they can delude people into believing they aren’t.

She is not plain. She is extraordinary.

You are clearly suffering a visual disorder of some kind. Perhaps you and Jane should wear matching spectacles.

Sentimental novels are my favorite, though I’m not supposed to say so.

#meme #roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #◟ ⋆ memes › roleplay sources.#bridgerton meme #polin meme #romancing mr bridgerton meme

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