screechingdreamercollectorsblog - Tumblr blog

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sewing patterns for bugs! (pt 2)

beetle plush pattern by ApothecaryOcto

simple fabric moth/butterfly pattern by willowynn

bee plush pattern by TooStuffedPatterns

snail plush pattern by willowynn

beetle plush pattern by MasterPlush

spider plush pattern by SugarcubeCherry

minecraft bee plush pattern by HabbiesAus

snail plush pattern by Delilah Iris

butterfly / moth plush pattern by Victoria Zhuk

garden snail pattern by DragonsGardenShop

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I bought a quarterly needlepoint magazine from 1991 today for $1 at an op shop, and there’s a four page spread about a woman who completely faithfully remakes samplers from the 1600s and the part that blows me away is that she was keeping women in history alive.

The original sampler maker was a teenaged girl called Loara she’s the only one known of seven siblings in that family. She was born approximately 1632 and had passed before her father had in 1956 which they know because it was mentioned in his will.

So in the 1630-40s a girl made a sampler, in 1991 a woman had put in years of research before recreating the sampler as Loara had 350 years earlier , and I’m reading about it in 2024.

Embroidery keeps women alive in history, and it’s part of why I love samplers so much.

Here’s a quote from samplers that I think about often:

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Does anyone know if here in Tumblr there Is a crochet o crafting community? I would like to start a blog about sewing crocheting and so on and maybe start selling a few things. Let me know if there are people i can follow also. Thank you very much

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Is anyone writing for Bruce Wayne by Christian Bale? Let me.know

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The Shadow of Death

A religious painting by William Holman Hunt, on which he worked from 1870 to 1873, during his second trip to the Holy Land. It depicts Jesus as a young man prior to his ministry, working as a carpenter. He is shown stretching his arms after sawing wood. The shadow of his outstretched arms falls on a wooden spar on which carpentry tools hang, creating a "shadow of death" prefiguring the crucifixion. His mother Mary is depicted from behind, gazing up at the shadow, having been looking into a box in which she has kept the gifts given by the Magi. x

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A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead.

He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them..

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.

When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side.

When he was close enough, he called out, 'Excuse me, where are we?'

'This is Heaven, sir,' the man answered.

Would you happen to have some water?' the man asked.

Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up'.The man gestured, and the gate began to open.

'Can my friend,' gesturing toward his dog, 'come in, too?' the traveller asked.

'I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets.'

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.

After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

'Excuse me!' he called to the man. 'Do you have any water?'

'Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in..'

'How about my friend here?' the traveller gestured to the dog.

There should be a bowl by the pump.'

They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveller filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog.

When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree.

'What do you call this place?' the traveller asked.

This is Heaven,' he answered.

'Well, that's confusing,' the traveller said. 'The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.'

'Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That's hell.'

'Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?'

'No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind.'

~Anonymous Author and Artwork

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Listen up!

You see a post like this? Where OP might hurt/kill themselves? You hit that button that I circled

Hit that.

Click Suicide or Self-harm Concern

Yes.

Fill in the rest of it, and hit submit. The "content you reported" will fill itself in

Tumblr will follow up and help them.

Warning: this is only for mobile. If anyone knows how to do this for desktop, please add it!

This could SAVE SOMEONE'S LIFE.

YOU HAVE NO EXCUSE NOT TO REBLOG THIS.

I DON'T GIVE A FUCK IF IT DOESN'T GO WITH YOUR BLOG'S THEME.

And yes, REBLOG. Liking does no shit at all. This isn't ig.

You reblog, people see it. You don't, people don't see it. This shit's that simple.

This could save someone's life. It's not a joke.

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He asked me when I fell in love with him and I knew it sounded dramatic to say the moment I saw him, so I told him this story of my grandma who had Alzheimer's- she forgot her name and the words for fruit and food, she forgot her address and how to use the washroom, all her life lost to the disease. The only thing she remembered was her son's name and when that began to fade, the one thing she always remembered was that she loved him, even in illness, even in insanity. She saw this 6 foot 2 man with a scrubby beard and she didn't know him but she said she trusted him, she asked him to hold her hand when she died. When does memory end and love begin? All I know is- she loved him before she remembered him.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire

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Hi everyone! I was looking for a tv series name that i can' remember. The plot was about a war maybe Iraq where this soldier gifted this girl a pair of socks. They became friends and he rescued her from an Attack where She foto injured in the eyes. Later in the years they reunite at her graduation where She wears the socks he gave her and in reality he Is watching her in the public. And when She sees him She runs to ho hug him.

Can somebody help me with the name of It? Thank you very much

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Hi everyone, as a girl Who wants to create fashion and art i am going into a creative block from months now. Can somebody help me overcome It? Suggestions? Thank you very much

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Update:

They think I have late stage Addison’s disease.

I have more testing I have to do.

I’m without words. This is terrifying.

I can’t even let myself grieve or relax because I don’t even have enough money to be diagnosed properly OR treated.

So please, please. If you have anything to spare.. I need it now more than ever ..

I appreciate any and ALL HELP!!!

If you’d like to immediately help me my PayPal is

https://www.paypal.me/YvesOrage

I don’t want to die because I can’t afford to get treatment. I’ve come this far.. I’m desperate. I need my community now more than ever. Please don’t let me be forgotten

BOOST THIS

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““It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.””

—

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Is anyone writing imagines about the Witcher especially Eskel? Am I the only One Who adores him? Let me know, i have requests to make.

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The Annunciation, 1915 by Helena Vurnik ( Austrian-born Slovenian, 1882–1962)

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me: “I can’t go out tonight I’ll be busy” 

 me being busy:

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MANOONI on Etsy