Wanting my own Bingley and fixated on being a Jane, I lost track of the Bingley part and was just focused on Jane, that at some point there was a bad confusion of sorts and I found myself in the unhappy and uncomfortable parts of an Eyre one and not a Bennet. In any case, eventually, after having made a firm decision to cut off the Eyre-ness of things, I became once again a Jane in the right context, and there came Bingley. Charles. Bingley. Pun intended.
And so, one of those occasional posts where I would have to be indulged, because they are three different occasions anyway, as opposed to 79 almost identical photos of one scenario that are all screaming call-me-adorbs. Besides, I think they would be a happy introduction to my latest illustration which is also that of us, except perhaps a bit darker and bloodier :)
And now, to the bloody part. But then again it could all just be strawberry syrup. Raspberry ripple. A cure for the bitters. An invisibility mix to hide from subtly attacking bile. Or it could just really be berry topping; as simple as that, just like pure happiness.