jamandtoast86

[jamandtoast86]

This reminds me of

Ducky on a duck

[jamandtoast86]

These two scoundrels are getting on in age – fifteen in a couple of months – and have been having issues with poor appetites.  Both are also hyperthyroid and have lost weight lately (yes, they've been to the vet and have meds).   They are clearly tired of their usual foods – even their favourite treat, kitty-crack Fancy Feast.  Today my husband picked up some different brands.  The cat on the right (Malcolm) scarfed down his portion and his brother’s and begged for more. When he finally showed up for his dinner, the second cat, Seeley, did the same.  Then they both had more!

 So, what?  The cat food sounds like recipes from the cookbook, Looney Spoons.  Tonight they got “Clucky in Love” (chicken). The rest are “Poetry in Motion” (liver and chicken), “Over the Moo-n” (beef), “Key to My Heart” (turkey and giblets), A-Moo-sing (beef), “Furrever and Always” (whitefish and tuna).  There are others… with less amusing wordplay.

The brand, Lovibles, is made in Toronto and I have no idea if it’s available outside of Ontario.  It’s not going to be their main diet, but we’ll keep getting it.  Especially if they come up with more good puns!

[jamandtoast86]

the way he was | joel miller

joel miller x reader

summary: a recollection of joel miller and the man he was for you.

warnings/tags: jackson era. heavy angst. fluff. brief allusions to sexual scenarios. death. depictions of grief, nightmares, depression, and anxiety. very minimal dialogue.

word count: 1.5k

He was a shadow, lurking in corners and near open doors for the opportunity of easy escape.

A juxtaposition to the foul-mouthed girl that followed him, much like a shadow, in a way that was nearly comical. For a man as domineering as he was, he always appeared as though he would rather vanish into thin air than take up any more space. That was how you knew him, at first. A figment of a man with terror in his sunken, tired eyes, and an invisible cloud of anguish that hung heavy above him.

He was helpful.

While the transition into Jackson was one of difficulty, he found his niche in creating things, building things. When he wasn’t on patrol, he was fixing the steps outside of the schoolhouse or putting together a ramp outside of the church for those residents who weren’t comfortable taking the stairs. His silent selflessness did not go unnoticed, but you had always gotten the impression he deserved more credit than he received.

He was shy.

You remembered so clearly the blush that painted his skin the first time you properly met him. You were in a rush, not quite paying attention as you scurried outside of the market, and crashed right into his chest. You apologized profusely, babbling away information about your chaotic day that he hadn’t even asked for. But he was patient nonetheless, listening and assuring you it was no trouble.

“You’re Joel Miller,” you had blurted out, not quite ready for the interaction to end.

It was the first time you saw him smile, and very quickly, you discovered you wanted to see it over and over again.

He knew your name, too. A fact that made your heart swell another size in your chest. He walked you home, taking a leisurely pace as if to stay near you a while longer. Before you knew it, you were discussing weekend plans. You had to be the one to voice the idea of drinks, but you didn’t mind. The way his eyes lit up at the prospect was worth every ounce of anxiety you had in suggesting it.

He was funny. Witty.

Spoke seldom, but always with intent. You spent hours together that Saturday night in the back corner booth of the Tipsy Bison. You recall the way your cheeks burned from how often you were smiling, forgetting, even just for a little while, the disastrous state of the world.

He was tender.

The first time he kissed you, he treated you like porcelain. Cradling your face delicately between broad palms, and grazing gentle thumbs over the apples of your cheeks.

“This alright?” he had murmured, and while you didn’t have the breath to speak, you nodded ferociously. Keeping your eyes locked on him as he made his dissent towards your awaiting lips, searing his against them. It was slow, deep. He didn’t rush, savoring every bit of you as you did the taste of him.

He was chivalrous.

A true Southern gentleman. He held every door for you. He insisted on always carrying your bags from supplies runs, or walking you home from your post once evening fell. He wasn’t bothered by the fact that you lived clear across town.

“You stay put, I’m comin’ to you,” he would insist when you offered to meet up at the towns’ center for a change opposed to making him hike over towards you.

His touch always lingered. A guiding hand on your lower back. Threading his fingers between yours. Brushing strands of hair from your eyes. Intentional and focused when he spent time with you. He considered you in everything he did; never an after thought, always at the forefront of his mind.

He was paternal.

In the kind of way that made you proud to know him, have him by your side. There was nothing more important in the world to him than looking out for that girl. Even when she didn’t want him to nor need him to. Even when the resentment of the man he had been and the choices he made strained their relationship. And when you discovered his truth, one tragic and from a lifetime before the world as you knew it, the incessant passion to protect and serve those around him became clearer. He was, first and foremost, a father. A title that, despite his losses then and now, could not be stripped of him.

He was haunted.

The nightmares came frequently, ruthless in their pursuit of his peace. He attempted with great difficulty to shield you from them, hardly sleeping or abandoning the bed altogether. But as time trudged on, the walls came down in its wake, and you saw torment in realness and raw flesh.

It never frightened you; the panic, the shaking, the screams. You promised him as such, that all you wished would come out of his vulnerability with you was to understand him. Console him. Help him in any way possible. Remind him that you loved him, all of him. Broken and bent. Imperfect and flawed. That you wanted to help alleviate the weight of his baggage, knowing well he would do the same in return. That he was not the same man. That he could grow, change, better himself. Living proof of the sentiment alone in the way he treated you, the way he worked so diligently to earn his daughter’s trust again, the way he gave himself and his time to the community. No complaints. No ulterior motives. But because he was good. Deserving of serenity and forgiveness.

He worried about you. Often.

You got the idea that he believed it was bothersome, how often he checked in on you or inquired about your comfort or safety.

Bothersome could not have been further from the truth.

You loved it, cherished it. The idea of someone worrying about you, looking out for you, seemingly a lost cause to the deterioration of the world. Taking care of things was something of a forte for him, and despite your great independence, you didn’t mind relinquishing part of it to him. You trusted him. A rarity. And you got the impression allowing him to worry, to mull over every detail of your safety, and to work diligently at reassuring him made him feel just as trusting of you.

He was gentle.

Especially in the way he made love to you. He took his time with you; a long-lost intimacy reborn at the hands of patience and careful consideration. You thought, even with past experiences under your belt, that you had never known a man — his touch, his body, his passion — the way you knew Joel Miller’s.

Seldom were there any theatrics, and you found the simplicity in your private moments remedying. The antidote to your suffering, to believing that a universe in which you deserved love, and patience, and worship no longer existed. His praise alone like salve over scars.

“So beautiful, every damn inch of ya.”

“Make me feel so good, darlin’. Only you.”

“Can’t believe you’re mine.”

He was yours.

And you were his. In every way tangible and otherworldly. The whole of Jackson knew it, something that rendered you prideful in a way that probably shouldn’t have, but you just couldn’t help it.

Joel’s girl.

He was hopeful.

Hopeful of the life he could build with you.

Hopeful that, in time, the once wide-eyed girl he took under his wing — similarly haunted, the glow of her eyes dimming to a flicker over time — would come around. In her own way, on her own terms.

Hopeful that he could heal, that he could spend the rest of his days doing right by those he loved and aiding those who relied on him. You had no doubt he could be successful.

And yet, you couldn’t have been more mistaken.

Foolish.

Naive.

Because before before hope could manifest into reality, he was gone.

And you still couldn’t visit his gravestone. Couldn’t face his brother no matter how many times he asked for you, petrified that the familiar sight of warm eyes would inflict a pain too monumental to endure. Couldn’t wash the clothes of his left behind that you were practically living in, no matter how filthy they may have been, afraid that once you lost the scent of him, your memories would fade too.

You couldn’t even think about her; you tried, and failed, to muster up the decency to see her. To check in on her, be there for her. Knowing that their connection, regardless of how faulty in the end, was one no one else could even begin to understand the weight of.

Couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t breathe.

He was a memory.

One you could not erase from the confines of your mind. He stuck to you, night and day, a potent reminder of what was to be and what could have been. Plans unspoken and life unlived, a string of wishful thinking cut short by the likes of revenge. The world no longer turned; frozen stuck, dull and unmoving towards any sort of future.

He was your future.

He was your hope.

He was your world.

He was Joel. Irreplaceable. Unforgettable. Your very own silver lining.

And you couldn’t stop the anguish, the anger. How your skin crawled in disbelief over how unfair it was.

He was a wound.

Firmly etched into your heart and soul without the chance of healing.

A weight to bear with burden for the rest of time.

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[jamandtoast86]

i haven't seen this item from Variety posted today:

"Of his broken wing, Pascal explained to Variety that he fell down some stairs at his family’s home and is awaiting surgery later this month. He expects to be ready to go back to work by the time “Last of Us” begins production on Season 2 in mid-February." They mentioned the wrong arm.

[jamandtoast86]

2023 Bucket

This is a bucket. Anything you don't want to take with you into 2024, feel free to drop it in the bucket. I will be burning the contents (with Hellfire) at exactly 11:59pm on New Year's Eve.

You don't have to type anything, at all. Just reblog the bucket and your intentions will be known by the universe. Or the bucket. Or whatever you like.

[jamandtoast86]

i’m watching an interview, and lux said some interesting, wholesome things about her brother and their relationship:

she said that pedro is the one that never answers his phone, in reference to that interview where pedro said he called his older sister when he got the news about getting the role of joel in the last of us because his little sister never answers the phone.

she looks up to him, saying that pedro has always been her star. when she was little, she used to think pedro was very cool, because when he visited from the us he listened to the coolest music and had the coolest clothes🥹

when pedro went to lux’s graduation this year, everyone wanted to take a picture with him, and since he’s very generous he said yes to everyone who asked for a picture, and lux couldn’t really enjoy her big brother in her special day. she got fed up, took pedro’s hand and left.

according to lux, his LA home is a simple house just for him, he owns one small car, he’s super chill and simple, even though he obviously can afford a huge mansion and multiple cars. he’s unassuming of his fame/money and never takes either for granted. he helps whoever he can and he likes helping his family in any way he can.

she thinks pedro has handled fame very well, considering the exposure and everything that comes with it.

as a family, they always make time to go on vacation together.

[jamandtoast86]

This might address the issue of having to share my pillow with two cats.

[jamandtoast86]

A little update from Ridley Scott himself.

[jamandtoast86]

(via)

[jamandtoast86]

That comment is BS. All routine adult vaccines are free in Ontario. This includes tetanus, diphtheria, pertussis, flu.

Pnuemoccal and shingles after age 65.

And all the Covid shots to date.

Hey these aren't even free in Canada

[jamandtoast86]

Strange Way of Life

Husband and I took in this exceptional little movie last evening, at a local art house, showing together with The Human Voice. Talk about two wildly different films. But now I understand why Pedro Almodevar has so many top awards.

Strange was very fine. As Almodovar says, no sex, but sexy as hell.

[jamandtoast86]

Happy Thanksgiving, from Canada!

Stricken by a bug, I spent all Thursday and Friday hanging over a barf bucket and Saturday in urgent care getting IV fluids. Sunday was a bit better. Today I kept down the first solid food in days. I took it very cautiously, but oh, the turkey, mash and gravy were delightful. The tiniest wedge of pumpkin pie followed. Not how we planned, but that's how life is.

[jamandtoast86]

Pedro and Paul rehearsing a fight (?) sequencing. on the Gladiator 2 set.

[jamandtoast86]

Pedro Almodovar leaks info on PP's Character in Gladiator

Apologies if this is not new. Found on Insta, an interview with Pedro Almodovar where he talks about our Pedro's role in Gladiator 2, and the physical prep he's having to do to turn his bod into one of a gladiator, with translation from Spanish. Link is to the video

[jamandtoast86]

Gladiator 2 is filming in Morocco. The studio couldn't resist releasing a first trailer, featuring Morgan Freeman and PP. Apparently, they don't realize that fans of Pedro have l-o-n-g memories and haven't forgotten a second of his appearance in GOT. Have a peek. After doing a "Wait, what!" I had to laugh.

here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vDznvO4o_bA&ab_channel=ScreenCulture

[jamandtoast86]

A radio interview I have not seen mentioned here.

[jamandtoast86]

Brilliant!

WHO DID THIS 💀