uzaklardakibirkiz

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Okay I’m gonna be honest idk what the fuck went on today to make birdie and han both leave but a lot of you bitches in the Pedro fandom need to be yelled at and blocked. Yall have truly kicked all the good writers off this platform and that’s fucking crazy to me.

What happen to idk having fucking fun????

I can assure you there are much bigger things happening in life rn that fanfic or fans on tumblr. Losing nether was so fucking shitty and now here we are, everyone is gone.

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good lord what happen this time? why did everyone suddenly leave??

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“It seems that my destiny is to die dreaming.”

— Stendhal, The Red and the Black (via therepublicofletters)

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Wait does anyone know if he actually did this? Usually we see screenshots of the celebs who do these things after? Have I just missed them?

Zoom link:

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BARRY SLOANE as Joe 'Bear' Graves in SIX (2017—2018) Episode 2.06 Indian Country

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Sleepy Price commission for @oasislake76 💤

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Marie Howe, from “Watching Television”, What the Living Do

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Seiichi Hayashi, from JCA Annual 5 (1984)

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Dress

1802-1805

Musée Galliera de la Mode de la Ville de Paris

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西游朽

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I actually can’t believe how much the Pedro Pascal fandom here died. It’s actually so painful.

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My favorite dumb Joel Miller headcannon is that he LOVES a sugary frappuccino. With whipped cream and extra caramel, pls.

He’s got just a hint of #toxicmasculinitystuff still, so he tells everyone he just takes his coffee black no sugar. But every Sunday he treats himself to some insane sugar frap concoction. He always lies to the barista that he’s “just picking this up for my daughter!”, as if they care or can’t tell he’s lying 🙄, and then drinks is down in like three gulps in the car before hiding the evidence.

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i think about this moment and beyond so often.

this earth-shattering grief, how the whole world, despite it currently ending, drops off into blackness for joel right here.

i so often wonder how long he sat there with her. how long he was able to sit there with her. whether he carried her limp and cooling body as far as he could, whether tommy begged him through his own grief to leave her sleeping where she fell, knowing that he couldn't lose another member of his family.

did they get the chance to bury her? is sarah laid in a shallow grave not far from her home, her bones secret to all but her father and uncle and animals who stumble across them over the years?

would joel ever be able to find her again? if he rode out to texas, would he find that sunken ground and know it was his baby girl who rests there? would he be able to look?

or would he search for hours, panic clawing up his throat when he realises he can't find her, maybe can't even remember the exact spot he left her? along with all the other things he has started to forget - the sound of her laugh, the exact pattern of her freckles, her smell when he held her, what colour the bobble in her hair was on the first day of school.

he feels like even more of a failure. he couldn't protect her, couldn't take her place on the other side of earth then, can't remember where he let her slip through his fingers now. the bloody print of her hand on his arm that he could not wash off, the watch he has worn every day for the twenty years since.

if they couldn't bury her, does the thought of her body laying to waste out in the open haunt him? does he sink the thought down so deep it's like she never left at all, or does it come to him in nightmares? in moments sat at the kitchen table surrounded by new family, people who should have known her too?

does he have a place for her in boston? somewhere he goes to remember her? does he have one in jackson, aside from tommy and maria's chalkboard? a place on a hillside beyond the walls, surrounded by butterflies and wildflowers, a little cairn he raises just for her. a place where he can be with his sarah, talk with her into the sunset, and when he turns his head he's still so surprised she's not there.

and maybe, maybe, when his time comes around, he finds himself surrounded by wildflowers and butterflies just outside jackson. maybe, maybe, in the home he built in texas, untouched by years and tragedy. he can hear her bound down the stairs - finally, you're here - or he turns his head on the hillside and his baby girl is already there, sarah -

sat beside him like he knew she had been all this time.

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emily wilson translation of the iliad // aiskhylos tr. by anne carson // petrichara on tumblr // junehart on tumblr // right now, gracie abrams // unknown // mary oliver // how do i say goodbye, dean lewis // eden robinson // anna kamienska

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soap with this tattoo