Harry Kim Deserved A Promotion.exe

About

Jenny | Personal Blog

Multifandom | No consistent tagging

Cross stitcher, fic writer, lace maker, but mostly just sock darner ๐Ÿ˜”

About Me and Links

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vowel-baffle:

beastliness:

I don’t know whether any of you guys have looked outside lately but it’s leaves as hell out there

nooooooo those are supposed to be in the house

(via ectogeo-rebubbles)

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gurogeisha:

weirdmageddon:

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How dare you hide this in the tags lol

(via singing-sorrowless)

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toxicyuricaramel:

toxicyuricaramel:

just realised i havnt posted like anything iโ€™ve crocheted since febuary or something you guys donโ€™t even know about my tomato

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#MyTomato

pattern here

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bitletsanddrabbles:
“bitletsanddrabbles:
“Several months ago it occurred to me that what I really wanted for my birthday was Awesome Art Nouveau Downton Art. And so I dropped a line to my absolutely awesome friend and former roomie who also happens...

bitletsanddrabbles:

bitletsanddrabbles:

Several months ago it occurred to me that what I really wanted for my birthday was Awesome Art Nouveau Downton Art. And so I dropped a line to my absolutely awesome friend and former roomie who also happens to be a raving Mucha fan and requested some. Any character! Any pose! Any colour scheme! Didn’t matter, just please, for the love of aging, more awesome art!

I could not, no matter how hard I tried, be happier right now.

Feel like having this at the top of my blog again…

(via da-scenes)

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chubachus:
“Daguerreotype portrait of an unidentified African American man, c. 1850′s.
Source: Sotheby’s.
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chubachus:

Daguerreotype portrait of an unidentified African American man, c. 1850′s.

Source: Sotheby’s.

(via victoriansecret)

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havingapoemwithyou:

Elegy with Steam  By William Fargason  When I was sick with a head cold, my head full of pressure, my father would soak a washcloth in hot water, then ball it up, wring it out. He would open it above my head, then place it against  my face like a second skin, the light around me disappearing entirely except through the spaces between the stitching. I would inhale the steam in that darkness, hearing his voice on the other side,  otherwise almost devoid of any other bodily sense but the warmth and depth of his voice, as if I had already died and was on the other side of life waiting for the sickness to lift, but I wasnโ€™t.  I was still on this earth, the washcloth going cold on my face, my body still sick, and my father still there when I opened my eyes, as he always was, there to give me warmth before going cold again.ALT

Elegy with Steam by William Fargason

(via woahpip)

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byjove:

when I say ‘British Isles’ I NEVER mean that lovely lady to the left. there are a lot of British islands and Ireland isn’t one.

(via july-19th-club)

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