lovcpotions

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❝ 𝐣𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭 , ❞ 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐬 , and itʻs a testament to how startled she really is for her to be cursing like a muggle . the way she jumps in place sends one hand to rest over her racing heart and her JUUL slipping from her fingers , falling between the slats of the seat she was perched on . she reaches for it with a grumble , still clutching at her chest, and giving a valiant attempt to not laugh at the pitiful attempt at a costume that this man seems to be rocking . she just barely succeeds and refuses to give him the satisfaction of knowing heʻs amused her . ❝ oh yeah ? and does the host know that some freakshow is hanging around her porch ? ❞ she shoots back , knocking her vape against her palm a few time to get it to function now that sheʻs outside the wider range of magical discharge stemming from the house . ❝ cause youʻre acting awfully NOSEY and that , quite frankly , doesnʻt exactly fit with the rest of the outfit . you know — for authenticityʻs sake . ❞

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽:  mikaela karkaroff's home ( specifically her back garden ), london   !

he doesn't go out of his way to make them aware of his presence before they set off the automatic light in mikaela's back garden, even if he did hear the door sliding open and know that they were coming. he's not hiding, per se - let it not be said that niko karkaroff is a creep, hiding in the shadows for when you least expect him - but since he hasn't been allowed inside all evening, he figured he might as well get comfortable. the light went off on its own, and though he'd made a dent in his packet of cigarettes, that little movement hadn't been enough to set it off again. if they jump when the garden chair he sits in is suddenly illuminated and he appears as if from nothing, well, they can't be blamed. "the party is behind you," he tells them, his voice lacking any emotion, "and the host would prefer it stay there."

#𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ dialogue . #𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ ft . nikolai karkaroff . #romilda sees his cigs and immediately calls him a boomer #sheʻs gen z enough to wanna bully him

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𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐚 .

for the record : when marietta nodded an affirmative and mumbled something about yeah and so sad, she WASN’T talking about the loss of harry james potter day. fully distracted by the daily prophet article that she was pored over, she wasn’t exactly paying attention to what romilda vande had to say and, honestly… even if she hadn’t been so focused on rita skeeter’s newest crackpot theory, that probably would’ve remained the same. it’s not that she really DISLIKES the girl or anything, but a lot of what romilda was grated on marietta, a person who had been there and done that but also been an unwilling participant in her own personal chracter development. her subsequent “oh-” is weighted with realisation and she actually looks up, starts to tell her, “well, actually, i think the whole point was that we were only ever celebrating him because he ‘died about it’-” when she lets out the cheer that half the pub proceeds to echo. marietta, not wanting to be in this particular moment, sinks down as much as her barstool would allow in this particular wave of embarrassment washed over her and, with a characteristically venemous hiss that was usually reserved for more threatening gryffindors, says, “shut up, shut up, shut up. what the actual fuck is wrong with you ?” 

❝   𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥   ,   𝐢   𝐝𝐨𝐧ʻ𝐭   𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰   𝐢𝐟   you   would   understand   ,   ❞   the   pout   playing   at   her   lips   is   childish   ,   which   matches   the   schoolground   casual   cruelty   that   slips   from   her   mouth   ,   made   more   easily   said   by   the   several   fingers   sheʻs   had   of   the   rum   and   coke   that   she   didnʻt   buy   for   herself   .   maybe   sheʻs   grown   up   .   maybe   sheʻs   left   school   and   the   whispers   and   maybe   sheʻs   a   war   veteran   at   twenty   -   two   but   at   her   HEART   ,   romilda   vane   is   all   fire   and   fierceness   and   g i r l   .   this   cruelty   was   the   language   they   learned   at   each   otherʻs   heels   .   ❝  not   like   you   were   even   there   for   that   long   .   ❞   she   grumbles   ,   even   as   she   takes   another   sip   from   her   drink   and   does   her   best   to   ignore   how   much   sense   mariettaʻs   argument   makes   .   still   ,   it   doesnʻt   stop   her   resounding   cheer   nor   does   it   stop   the   mean   little   grin   she   musters   up   at   mariettaʻs   subsequent   embarrassment   .      ❝   feeling   shy   ,   edgecombe   ?   ❞   the   gryffindor   dips   her   way   in   closer   ,   enough   so   that   the   firewhiskey   on   her   breath   wafts   in   the   ravenclawʻs   direction   .   even   the   intensity   of   mariettaʻs   ire   ,   startling   as   it   is   to   have   it   aimed   in   her   direction   so   suddenly   ,   does   not   deter   her   negging   .   ❝   you   might   actually   enjoy   being   here   if   you   relaxed   a   bit   ,   you   know   .   ❞

#𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ dialogue . #𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ ft . marietta edgecombe .

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𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐦 but only to hold the man at armʻs length , clutching firmly to a shoulder in each hand . she squints , dead silent as she subjects him to her roving look . ❝ nope . ❞ she exclaims suddenly, after a moment of silence , gesturing to the all of him . ❝ you see these ? imagine if you were all hunched over and brooding all the time and we didnʻt get to see these shoulders of yours ? iʻm sorry to say itʻs just NO GOOD , ❞ she sighs , shaking her head even as she slumps against him once again , pointedly rubbing circles into his back once more to indicated that she wants him to do it the same for her again . the bartender sets two new drinks in front of them and she makes a weak attempt at grabbing it but doesnʻt bring it up to her mouth . sheʻs distracted by this final question , instead . she gives a little hum of contemplation about it . ❝ well , iʻm no lavender or parvati , ❞ she says , poking fun at the way they had bought into every destined moment that professor trelawney foresaw for them . ❝ but what if we hadnʻt been sorted into gryffindor ? unlikely , i know , but what if ? what if we hadnʻt joined up with the rest of the group or gone back to school after winter break ? do you think weʻd still be friends like this ? ❞ she asks . her head remains tucked into seamusʻ shoulder so she doesnʻt have to watch him hear her . ❝ donʻt you think this is just one of the things thatʻs meant to shake out ? ❞

if  there’s  one  thing  seamus  missed  about  being  in  the  wizarding  community?      ⸺      it  was  this.    the  familiarity;      bonds  created  through  late  -  night  quidditch  parties  in  a  common  room    /    practicing  spells      (    and  failing  terribly,    never  truly  did  master  turning  water  into  rum    )      around  the  great  hall  breakfast  table,    only  to  be  secured  TIGHTER  by  the  war  that  loomed  over  their  heads  all  that  time  ago.    some  people  know  of  him  in  ireland.    he’s  patrick’s  boy,    but  they  don’t  know  him  the  way  people  like  romilda  do.    that  kind  of  connection  provides  an  odd  comfort  that  he’ll  always  lean  towards,    arm  immediately  wrapping  over  former  housemate’s  shoulders  when  she  slumps  closer.      "      i  could  brood!      "      argument  comes,    though  he  already  knows  it’s  not  true.    seamus  isn’t  a  mysterious  character.    he  wears  his  heart,    and  various  other  emotions,    on  his  sleeve,    always  visible.    they  arrive  with  such  intensity,    never  left  to  fester  as  much  as  bursting  their  way  out,    sometimes  explosively.      "      a’right,    i  probably  couldn’t  brood,    but  i  don’t  appreciate  the  insinuation,    vane.      "      what  he  does  seem  to  appreciate,    however,    is  the  hand  of  his  back,    his  own  fingers  seemingly  mimicking  the  notion  by  drawing  idle  patterns  on  romilda’s  arm.      "      y’believe  that?    ‘bout  things  shaking  out  the  way  they  do  because  they’re  meant  to?      "

#𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ dialogue . #𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ ft . seamus finnegan . #these bitches are so drunk i love them

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𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 .

“  i’m  just  not  used  to  this  till,  ”  astoria  tells  her,  abashed.  her  cheeks  (  already  tinged  pink  thanks  to  an  expensive  blush  that  neither  of  her  siblings  respected  her  for  buying  )  seem  to  gain  a  little  more  color  a  little  more  naturally,  and  it’s  not  JUST  from  her  embarrassment.  oh,  she’s  a  simple  thing  ;  always  loyal,  of  course,  but  no  one  had  ever  taught  her  how  to  withstand  the  force  of  romilda  vane’s  shameless  flirting.  it’s  really  quite  disarming  and  though  she  leans  back  from  the  counter  when  the  other  leans  forward,  there’s  something  that  plays  in  her  expression  -  something  awestruck,  maybe,  something  dazzled,  the  combination  of  wide  brown  eyes  and  bright  pink  lips  held  slightly  apart  that  gives  her  away  entirely.  “  i’m  not  really  in  charge  of  the  pricing,  ”  that  is  true,  and  there  really  ISN’T  anything  that  she  can  do,  but  she  can’t  even  make  herself  sound  sure  about  it  as  she  watches  the  way  romilda  brushes  her  hair  back,  “  it’s  all  kinda  ridiculous,  but  when  the  tills  down  it  gets  taken  out  of  my  wages,  so…-  ”  and  it’s  pathetic,  really,  how  little  time  it  takes  for  her  to  think  about  that  &  like  a  lightbulb  lighting  up,  decide  it  isn’t  good  enough,  that  she  can  do  better,  even  if  that  will  prove  detrimental  to  her  later,  “  you  can  send  it  for  a  galleon  and  seven  sickles  if  i  use  my  employee  discount.  ”

                   ❝   𝐨𝐡   ,   𝐢   𝐭𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲   𝐠𝐞𝐭   𝐢𝐭   !   you’re   doing   a   way   better   job   than   i   could   ever   do   ,   ❞   she   coos   ,   which   would   be   on   the   wrong   side   of   patronizing   if   not   for   the   simple   fact   that   it’s   TRUE   .   romilda   has   never   touched   a   till   in   her   life   and   it   is   unlikely   that   she’s   going   to   start   anytime   soon   .   thereʻs   a   thread   of   honesty   that   weaves   itself   through   this   entire   conversation   ,   a   genuine   interest   that   romilda   has   never   been   able   to   help   .   a   curse   ,   really   ,   if   her   father   is   to   be   believed   and   an   inherited   trait   if   one   were   to   listen   to   her   mother   .   either   way   ,   it   amounted   to   a   thrill   down   her   spine   at   the   sight   of   the   spots   of   color   high   on   astoriaʻs   cheeks   and   a   single   -   minded   determination   to   make   sure   the   hufflepuff   kept   that   look   aimed   right   at   romilda   .   ❝   i   really   donʻt   want   to   get   you   in   trouble   .   .   .   ❞   she   says   ,   eyes   going   wide   and   concerned   and   driving   her   forward   and   even   more   into   astoriaʻs   bubble   ,   chasing   at   the   empty   space   to   close   the   distance   gained   .   not   so   much   so   that   she   looked   dumb   leaned   over   the   counter   the   way   she   was   ,   but   enough   that   ANYONE   looking   could   see   what   the   tableau   implied   .   her   bottom   lip   get   caught   between   white   teeth   and   her   eyes   seem   to   sparkle   with   the   news   of   astoriaʻs   realization   .   ❝   you   can   do   that   for   me   ?   really   ?   ❞   long   lashes   flutter   more   than   necessary   as   romilda   seems   to   melt   into   the   wood   with   how   pleased   she   is   at   the   allowance   ,   nevermind   the   fact   that   she   could   definitely   pay   the   regular   price   and   has   done   so   often   enough   before   .   ❝   that   would   be   SO   HELPFUL   ,   you   donʻt   even   know   .   ❞

#she is such a fuckhead in this actually i didnt realize #𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ dialogue . #𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ ft . astoria greengrass #astoria tells her siblings and its a hard no from the both of them

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𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡 a hand up and down the flat of seamusʻs back , the motion as soothing as it is reminiscent of the years past . it speaks of shared common areas and great hall table and practice dummies in impossible rooms . there is a camaraderie there and a history of romilda never being too good at keeping her hands to herself . his fire is familiar to her and usually , sheʻd be better at NOT stoking it — they were all well - practiced in trying to keep seamus calm and non - flammable — but the alcohol made it so that her filter was lower than usual and the typical gryffindor recklessness was rearing itʻs lionhead once again . her other hand , not currently rubbing circles into seamusʻs back , remains up as long as it takes to see the smattering of other glasses across the bar raised up in toast . not as many as years past , but not nothing . never nothing . ❝ screw the m inister ! ” she throws in before throwing her drink back and setting it back down on the table with a thunk . the firewhiskey burns as it goes down . itʻs an apt metaphor for the rest of the evening , she thinks . she motions for another round for the both of them before she slumps sideways , face pressed against seamusʻs shoulder for the prime angle to pout up at him . ❝ you wouldnʻt be able to pull of the brooding as well . itʻs not your fault — ❞ she assures him , though whether or not itʻs a compliment remains unclarified . ❝ — and itʻs not his fault either . you look best in fire light . harry looks best while sulking artfully . itʻs probably why things shake out the way they do . ❞

eyes  shift  left  to  right,    the  only  real  sign  of  hesitation  seamus  shows  as  inner  thoughts  debate  whether  or  not  to  involve  himself  in  romilda’s  passionate  complaint.      ⸺      of  which  he  whole  -  heartedly  agrees  and  isn’t  that  the  problem?    if  seamus  dares  to  open  mouth  and  let  himself  respond,    he  might  never  stop.    the  anger  boils  beneath  skin,    hot    &    sharp,    creating  an  uncomfortable,  prickling  feeling  that  jolts  through  every  muscle  whenever  he’s  reminded.    today  used  to  be  a  day  they  could  all  come  together;      a  day  to  remember,    a  day  that  somehow  inspired  both  celebration  for  all  harry  helped  them  win    &    mourning,    for  what  was  lost  in  order  to  obtain  that  success.    a  day  to  remember  harry,    but  more  important  than  that,    a  day  to  remember  what  he  inspired  in  them.    they  fought  so  valiantly  because  he  taught  them  how.    he  gave  them  a  reason  to  learn.    how  does  he  voice  that  out  loud  though,    or  rather,    how  does  he  voice  it  out  loud  without  getting  irate?    an  irate  seamus  finnigan  and  alcohol  never  did  mix  too  well.    still,  nothing  stops  him  from  nodding  along,    hand  reaching  for  beer  to  mimic  the  other’s  cheers.      "      happy  birthday,  pal.    and  screw  the  minister.      "      a  large  gulp  is  taken  right  after,    damn  near  emptying  bottle.      "      don’t  think  there’s  much  ‘bout  anything  the  poor  fella  went  through  that’s  fair.    this  is  just  another  thing  to  add  to  a  what  i  imagine  is  an  extremely  long  list  o’  bullshit.    if  i  were  him,    i  don’t  think  i’d  even  bother  gettin’  outta  bed  in  the  mornings.      "

#𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ dialogue . #𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ ft . seamus finnegan .

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×  ♤ ⦂  !!!

× what does your muse smell like? what perfume/cologne are they using?

if she could get away with wearing amortentia all day every day , she would be doing that but since that sounds somewhat illegal and morally and ethically unsound , she definitely cycles through perfumes every so often . her usual go to is absolute aphrodisiac ( for the name , but also for the top notes of vanilla and amber and the slightest hint of musk ) . she tends to go for heavier scents like that rather than florals or fruits but she’s been known to spruce it up , mostly depending on the season . she likes to match perfumes to the outfit or to the occasion .

♤ does your muse have any scars? where? what do they look like? how did they get them ?

i genuinely have never thought much about it for my war vet characters ( blaise is completely unscathed , the bitch ) but yes . yes , she does . she got caught with a cutting curse right to the middle of her chest that slashed upwards and diagonally . the bottom of it begins right beneath her sternum and reaches to her left ear . there’s a small nick at the bottom of her ear that never healed close . she spent several months immediately after the war with her parents searching for anyone who was particularly talented in healing curse - made scars but she has long since fully accepted it . she adopted a tomcat that also has a piece of his ear missing because she loves a classic and a matching accessory all in one . she’ll show up to work in plunging necklines and open ended necklaces that perfectly frames the huge scar . it’s all about working with it now instead of working to cover it up ( though her mom is still holding out hope that she’ll fix it eventually )

⦂ what clothes do they sleep in?

romilda is one hundred percent the type of girlie to splurge on her pajamas . she’s a firm believer in treating herself and that includes a lengthy night routine and an excessive amount of effort put into her nighttime wear . she loves a silk pajamas or a cute little negligee or , if she’s feeling fancy , a matching set of underwear under a robe . just silk and lace and tulle at all points in time because comfort is important but not as important as feeling cute before she goes to bed . she has matching bonnets for every outfit . also , a large collection of silk pillowcases . not quite cassie howard levels of nighttime routine , but somewhere in that ballpark .

#𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ answered . #𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ history . #this is so old but the scar bit is very important to me

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 lets out is only loud enough to be heard by those directly beside her , otherwise lost in the noise of the bar on a regular night . perhaps more crowded than it would be on other days of the week , but not more crowded than it would have been in years previous . the sigh , if heard , is a classic sound of lost love , or something close to that . a what - if . something her mother would have told her to keep pursuing if it weren’t for romilda’s embarrassment at getting the wrong target in the first place . something tinged with nostalgia and longing and just a hint of bitterness at the way things have turned out . ❝ isn’t it just sad ? ❞ romilda pouts up , cheek leaning against the palm of her hand as she drapes herself against the bar counter . her other hand comes up to trace against the circle of her glass , the very picture of wistfulness . ❝ he still did all the stuff we were celebrating him for anyways . it’s not fair that we stop celebrating him just because he didn’t DIE about it , ❞ at least , publically . and maybe it was gauche , or awkward , or embarrassing for everyone else to keep celebrating a holiday when the foundations of it were different than they initially believed but this sucks . the minister sucks and romilda wants her harry potter day drink prices back and she wants the galas and the parties and the room to be with people who knew what it was like . maybe he didn’t like her back . maybe she was never gonna get the attention she wanted from him . but he died for her and for the rest of them and for his friends and for everybody and wasn’t that reciprocation enough ? ❝ fuck it , ❞ she grabs the glass and raises it to cheer at the room at large . ❝ happy birthday , harry ! ❞

#𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ dialogue . #𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ starter . #nox.start

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𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚 .

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  owl post office, diagon alley  !

“that’ll be, uh…-” she only glances down at the reader, reading it off automatically, “two hundred galleons?” owl post, she ( already ) feared, was another ill fit. it had only been about a week since astoria had started and she knew that she could be forgiven most training wheel mistakes, but what she COULDN’T do was shake the distinct feeling of time running out that had kicked in around ‘whoopsie daisy’ number four. as always, it wasn’t actually her fault ; this time she blamed the till for her clumsy fingers ( just like how last time she’d blamed the naturally low volume of the phone she was supposed to answer and the time before that sheer number of keys she was forced to keep track of- ). she was trying her best, but at some point there would be no denying that eventually, a genuine lack of interest in making a career from this job was going to lead her down the same road as always. case in point ; two hundred galleons for a rather small parcel was absurd, realised mere seconds after the words left her mouth as she took a second look down at the old style numbers beneath the weighing scales and saw the dot between them, “oh, shit, i’m sorry! i meant two- i really misread that. you really don’t need to bankrupt yourself to send this to-… where were you sending it, again?” 

            𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚   𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞   𝐰𝐚𝐬   𝐚   𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥   kind   of   woman   .   it   did   not   matter   that   they   were   both   witches   with   apparition   license   ,   or   that   the   vane   house   was   connected   to   the   floo   network   ,   or   that   romildaʻs   apartment   wasnʻt   actually   that   far   from   them   in   the   grand   scheme   of   things.   there   was   a   certain   kind   of   romance   in   sending   letters   and   care   packages   ,   a   nostalgia   that   made   it   so   that   romilda   vane   sent   her   mother   a   letter   once   a   week   and   a   gift   once   a   month   and   received   both   in   return   .   she   hadnʻt   seen   astoria   greengrass   around   this   particular   office   before   ,   but   she   had   seen   her   at   flourish   and   blotts   a   while   back   ,   and   a   cafe   or   some   other   before   that   .   so   ,   while   she   was   familiar   with   how   much   her   package   should   cost   ,   she   was   also   familiar   with   the   woman   in   front   of   her   .   ❝   you   upcharging   me   for   any   reason   in   particular   ?   and   here   i   thought   you   liked   me   ,   ❞   she   says   ,   coy   and   teasing   and   with   a   little   grin   playing   at   her   lips   .   she   plants   her   hands   on   the   counter   ,   all   her   weight   leaned   up   against   them   as   she   dips   her   way   in   closer   to   astoriaʻs   sphere   and   gives   not   a   single   fuck   about   the   line   forming   behind   her   .   ❝   weʻre   just   going   on   a   quick   trip   to   mayfair   ,   darls   .   not   really   that   far   —   ❞   one   hand   comes   up   to   brush   her   twists   behind   her   bare   shoulder   in   a   move   so   practiced   it   looks   natural   .   ❝   —   even   two   galleons   is   a   bit   MUCH   when   you   think   about   it   ,   right   ?   ❞

#𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ dialogue . #𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ ft . astoria greengrass #romilda at all points in time has the energy of that tiktok thats like #how much do i owe you? while reaching into an empty purse

[lovcpotions]

#𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ isms .

[lovcpotions]

#𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ isms .

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I look at myself and I'm like I am so pretty, like wow I'm a doll, an angel. Crafted by Venus herself.

#𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ isms .

[lovcpotions]

salma deera / richard siken / tumblr

#𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ isms .

[lovcpotions]

#𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ isms .

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#me at holiday parties

#𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ isms .

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my brand

#𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ isms .

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love is everywhere

#𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ isms .

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@badestoutfit on twitter

Yes, I am obsessed with these

#𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ visage . #𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐞 ━━ ˟ ⊰ isms .