I DON'T RESIDE AT THIS BLOG ANY MORE.
FIND ME AT GOTTLIEBINGTON FOR MAJOR FANDOMS AND PADDYNGTON FOR THE REST
So when the birds fly south, reach up and hold their tales, pull up and out of here, bridle the autumn gales.
Precious human. Only person I can think of when as soon as I found out he plays the harp I just went ‘of course he...