#A Big Bold Beautiful Journey

[amelia-mariee]

I do not know a single thing about this movie but hey it’s my man brandon perea

[weclassybouquetfun]

Day One of CinemaCon is in the can.

What wares did Sony bring to the proverbial tent?

-The long-threatened four picture "cinematic event" that is the Sam Mendes' films about the members of The Beatles.

Four films too many, if you ask me. Hitting the theaters April 2028 (please let Sir Paul McCartney and Sir Ringo Starr still be around).

-A double dose of Spider-Man (Spider-Men?).

SPIDER-MAN: BEYOND THE SPIDERVERSE swinging to theaters on June 4, 2027.

-Nia DaCosta and Danny Boyle were on hand to talk 28 YEARS LATER: THE BONE TEMPLE. Boyle confirms Cillian Murphy's return to the film series, but just not yet as he is still seeking funding for a third film.

I'm satisfied with Aaron Taylor-Johnson.

-Footage from KARATE KID: LEGENDS with Jackie Chan reprising his role as Mr. Han from the 2010 KARATE KID and forever Daniel LaRusso, Ralph Macchio reprising his role from the films and the just-ended series COBRA KAI and newcomer Ben Wang.

-Favourable response to teaser footage from the follow-up to I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER featuring Jennifer Love Hewitt and Freddie Prinze Jr. reprising their roles.

-Audiences were treated to the trailer of A BIG, BOLD, BEAUTIFUL JOURNEY starring Margot Robbie and Colin Farrell; who reunites with his AFTER YANG director Kogonada for the film which is described as, "...an original tale of two strangers and the extraordinary emotional journey that connects them."

-Zach Cregger teased his plans for RESIDENT EVIL; saying his film "will focus on one central protagonist going on a point A to B journey, slowly falling more into hellish territory."

-GODZILLA MINUS ONE director Takashi Yamazaki will bring his first English language film to Sony: GRANDGEAR.

-Word that Neill Blomkamp's STARSHIP TROOPERS will be based on the novel and not the camp classic film. In other words; expect a tonal difference.

-You didn't ask for another JUMANJI? Too damn bad, cos you're getting one. JUMANJI 3 rolling the dice in theaters in December 2026.

-Trailer for Darren Aronofsky's CAUGHT STEALING starring Austin Butler, Zoe Kravitz, Matt Smith, Bad Bunny and Liev Schreiber was shown.

-Other projects bandied about: the live-action LEGEND OF ZELDA releasing on March 26, 2027; Nate Bargatze's comedy THE BREADWINNER and Taika Waititi's KLARA AND THE SUN.

[awardseasonblog]

Following his acclaimed After Yang, director Kogonada returns with A Big Bold Beautiful Journey, a romantic fantasy about two strangers who meet at a wedding and set off on an improvised road trip in a 1996 Volkswagen Passat, guided by a mysterious AI GPS. Written by Seth Reiss and scored by Joe Hisaishi, the film blends surreal visuals with emotional depth and is set for release on September 19.

[vickster51]

Most Anticipated Films of 2025

Time to look ahead! Here are my most anticipated films of 2025!

Having completed my look back at 2024, it’s time to look ahead to what 2025 has in store and I’m starting with a look at the films I’m most looking forward to / most curious about this year. There are bound to be plenty more not on my radar as yet, but even taking that into account, it does feel like 2025 is a year with more franchises releasing their next instalments than we had in 2024, some…

[disarmluna]

[lostinaflashforward]

Le notizie della settimana di cinema e TV, solo su Facebook!

[franciscomaldo]

#LilyRabe #JodieTurnerSmith y #PhoebeWallerBridge se unen al elenco de #ABigBoldBeautifulJourney √

Lily Rabe, Jodie Turner-Smith, Phoebe Waller-Bridge y la recién llegada Lucy Thomas se han unido al elenco de A Big Bold Beautiful Journey, protagonizada por Margot Robbie y Colin Farrell y dirigida por Kogonada.  Margot Robbie, Colin Farrell, Kogonada / Imágenes cortesía Michael buckner/Getty Images Sony Pictures estrenará la película romántica de Imperative Entertainment y 30West en los cines…

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

When your best-friend Steve Harrington asks you to hold his fleshlight for him.

It wasn’t really something that either of you planned on happening. But then it just did. Steve had been pent up from work all day from typical annoying patrons, smart mouthed jocks from the high school, that were freshmen when he was a senior (tenfold karma, Harrington), and Keith’s particular way of criticizing his every move out of some form of nerdy revenge. You could count on one hand the times that Steve had to bail out of your two person movie nights on Fridays (Saturdays were for dates and Sundays were for hanging with the rest of the parties and running kids around), and tonight happened to be one of those occurrences. Usually, it would be for self-care or whatever reason he needed to spend alone, but when he’d barely shed his leather jacket upon entering his house, dusting snow off of his boots — he was about to crawl out of his skin by the time his massive palm was wrapped around the receiver, thumb strangled by its cord.

He was… off? And seconds after he’d cancelled without much reason, the line went dead. You wanted to give him space, especially because he usually called back to tell you goodnight. But after being unable to sit still and finish a generous portion of the large pepperoni pizza you’d ordered the two of you, you were grabbing your keys for the journey over to his place.

~*~

It didn’t take but five minutes before you reached Steve’s house, pulling in behind his familiar car. You dangle the copy - made spare from your pointer finger, trekking your way up to the door and letting yourself in, wiping at your wind-whipped, wet eyes. You know he’s not on the first floor, its entirety dark and a little cool. So you toss your coat and keys onto the small table beside the entryway, kicking off your boots to join his on the cheesy welcome mat, and you make your way to the second floor landing to his bedroom. Seeing a buttery glow spill out from the crack in his doorway, you’d proceeded, only to be met with a sight that only appeared in your late night fantasies… and pretty much your every waking thought.

Steve is facing his mattress, sheets tousled and clothing pooled beside him, stood on the left side of his bed, naked and glistening in the perspiration of teasing, observing his massive length as he edges himself, moving the toy slowly over his cock. You know what it is, you’ve seen it in magazines and stores, in some porn. A fleshlight, they call it. Your brain goes through a million thoughts at a couple seconds to spare.

Why doesn’t he have someone here to do this with? He can get a date?

Is he okay? Obviously he’s very okay.

Holy fuck… he’s big.

Holy fuck… he’s beautiful.

A little more than usual, waiting on the summer sun to tan his freckle and mole spattered skin. His hair has grown longer, curling at the nape, his shoulder blades and biceps defined from a regular regime. And that ass, the way it flexes and is perfectly plump, connecting to those hairy thighs and big feet, his own toes curling when he twists, a wet squelch coming from the faux cunt. There’s beautiful chestnut curls scattered across him sternum and connecting to a trail that surrounds his base and those full, heavy, balls. That cock… thick, barely able to be pushed back into the toy, his fingers having to peel back its soft pink layers to help ease the slick way, decorated in a vein that matches the one running along his forearm

And you must make some sort of noise, because your lips part to let in a gasp of air, causing his body to twist in a sudden defensive stance, clenching the toy so tight with a ‘caught’ pose. You go to move and the door spills open completely, slamming back into his dresser and shaking old sports trophies. You’re panting, seeking out the words to apologize, Steve is wincing from how hard he still is, attempting to cover his modesty. But the air shifts in the room and you gain a boldness, a restlessness that won’t be satiated, nor a conscience satisfied if you don’t ask.

“Can I help you?” A customer service line from working at Scoops with him. But it comes naturally.

Steve, biting his lip, disheveled — he nods. And it’s happening. A tickling ease, a line crossed.

“C’mhere.” He’s waving with his opposite hand. His ribcage expands as he gulps in lungfuls of air.

You’re at his side shortly, shyly. “W-what do you need me to do?”

His spare hand pushes back through his hair, amber gaze gone to a midnight sky, teeth milky white, defined jawline covered in stubble, and a perfect nose. His voice is raspy when he lets you know what he needs.

“Go get on my bed, lay back for me. Please?”

A fucking gentleman.

All of your clothes feel too tight, smothering you as you lay back on his bed, his pillow immediately invading you. Your hands are unsure of where to go, but he approaches slowly, kneeling his way into kneeling by your feet. “I’m gonna… Can I use this between your legs, honey? You don’t have to do anything, just let me do all the work.” He motions to the toy and you want nothing more, suddenly offered the world.

It’s your turn to say it now. “C’mhere.”

He’s using that enriched tendon covered forearm to prop himself up beside of your head, slotting right between your knees, his remaining hand wrapped so tightly around the toy that his skin is pulled taunt over his knuckles. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, releases it, licks it, and then he’s asking, “Can I?”

“Go. Do what you need to do. I’m right here, Steve.”

If you thought the toy was loud before, the sound of him working his lengthy girth through its walls right in front of you now — it’s surround sound. You’re watching, unable to help it, bones threaten to be dusted to ash from how hard your heart is ramming beneath your breastbone.

“Wanted to come over, but it’s been a shit week, an even shitter day. And I just needed to —“

“— Release some tension, right? I get it, I do it too. I have a cock that goes… I —“ you stop your horny rambling, face feeling too much warmed.

Steve’s face scrunches, teeth gritting, and he twists the toy until slowing it almost completely. “Tell me what you do. You fuck yourself with it, right? When everything is too much and not enough? Fuck, honey.”

He doesn’t verbalize, but you don’t either, simply accept the toy and hold it against your denim covered cunt, leaving Steve’s hands free to hold on either side of you, his nose nudging yours as he leans down — here, present. You copy his earlier motions, using the toy to glide along his length as he thrusts into it with a new focussed vigor. “That’s it. You feel so good, honey. Workin’ me so right.”

“I’m soaking — fucking — wet for you, Steve. Just so you know.”

His hips stutter and his nose finds its way into your eyelashes, cheek pressing into your own. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum into this thing, and I want —“

“— You want what, Steve?” You hold your breath.

He answers without fear or pause. “You.”

// Eat me paragraph //

[httpswritings]

Lost On You

alexia putellas x realmadrid!reader and misa rodriguez x realmadrid!reader (as friends)

This story contains unrealistic plots (you'll know which ones I'm referring to as you read throughout the story) and it doesn't have a closed happy ending for ale/reader but it does have a cute ending for misa and reader's friendship.

It’s still a blur how it all happened, but somehow, you caught the attention of a Real Madrid scout. The memory feels hazy, like a dream you can’t quite piece together.

Almost three years ago, you walked Misa, your lifelong friend, to one of her training sessions. You were always early—your fear of being late to anything saw to that—and that day was no exception. With time to kill, Misa insisted you join her for a bit until her session started. She grabbed a ball and nudged you to take a few shots, claiming it would help her warm up.

“This isn’t fair. You know I’m terrible at this, Mimi,” you protested, shaking your head.

“So what? You’re here with me. We’ve got, like, forty-five minutes to kill,” she replied, grinning.

“No, you have forty-five minutes until training. This isn’t exactly my thing,” you shot back, though your resolve was already crumbling.

You could never say no to her, especially when she looked at you with those dark brown eyes. Misa was three years older than you, but she’d always been your rock. She was your protector—through school, through high school, through everything. No one dared mess with you because they knew Misa and her friends would have your back.

There were only two times anyone tried to tease you, both involving girls who thought they were bold enough. Both times, it took just one of your tears for Misa to lose her temper. She got expelled twice—once for each girl—and she never once regretted it. That’s just who she was: fiercely loyal, always protective, and endlessly caring, like the big sister you never had.

So, of course, you gave in. You took the ball from her hands, laughing as she bounced on her toes with excitement. Her Canarian accent always thickened when she got worked up, and you couldn’t help but think it sounded even more beautiful than usual.

In the background, unbeknownst to you, a Real Madrid agent had been watching.

You’d never played football before. Growing up, you were too afraid of being judged, of people labeling you as something you weren’t. The fear of being seen as "too masculine" or "lesbian" kept you on the sidelines, even though you secretly loved the sport. You only ever allowed yourself to enjoy it from a distance, never daring to join in, even during playground games. And even if you had wanted to, you knew your parents couldn’t afford to pay for football lessons.

It was Misa’s passion for the game, along with your own journey towards the acceptance of your lesbianism, that slowly helped you feel more comfortable with yourself. But by then, it was too late to learn—you had no idea how to play.

That’s why, when you took the ball and Misa urged you to take a few shots, you missed all three attempts. Both of you burst into laughter, treating it as nothing more than a silly game to pass the time. But just as you were about to leave, a woman approached you.

She introduced herself as Sara and began asking questions—your name, where you played, what position you were in. At first, you and Misa thought it was a joke. After all, Sara had just witnessed your disastrous technique. You played along, teasingly telling her you were Misa’s biggest rival, both of you laughing at the absurdity of it.

But then Sara started asking more specific questions, and it dawned on you that she was serious. You quickly apologized for joking and admitted the truth: you’d never played football before.

To your surprise, Sara didn’t seem fazed. She insisted on scheduling an appointment to see more of you. You had no idea why she was so interested, but Misa’s piercing stare made it clear that refusing wasn’t an option. Denying the request would’ve driven her crazy, so for the sake of your friend, you reluctantly agreed.

At the appointment, Sara closely analyzed your movements. You felt completely out of place, convinced this had to be some kind of elaborate joke you weren’t in on. You struggled to keep up—missing the ball, running out of breath quickly, and looking utterly lost most of the time. It was embarrassing, to say the least.

A few days later, Sara asked you to come back. That’s when she dropped the bombshell: she wanted to sign you to Real Madrid. She made it clear that you’d be starting from scratch, and it would take years of hard work to even dream of making it to the first team. But she believed in you—enough to set an ambitious goal: she wanted you to debut by the age of twenty-two. Surprisingly, you managed to do it a year earlier.

Your playing time was limited, especially in high-stakes matches. Sara was cautious about putting you under too much pressure too soon. Real Madrid’s women’s team wasn’t a powerhouse, and she wanted to shield you from the weight of failure. That’s why you didn’t play in the Copa de la Reina final, where Real Madrid came agonizingly close to winning their first title, only to lose to Atletico de Madrid. You also sat out the matches against FC Barcelona, and honestly, you were grateful for it. You watched Barça evolve, seeing the names of players who came and went: Lieke Martens, Jenni Hermoso, Asisat Oshoala, Aitana, Patri, Graham, Pinà… and Alexia.

Since entering the world of women’s football, you’d studied Alexia closely. She was the epitome of perfection—a relentless winner with an insatiable hunger for success. Her passion for the game was unmatched, and it drove everything she did.

To your astonishment, you were called up for a few friendly matches ahead of the World Cup. It was your chance to prove how far you’d come. Your improved physique and growing understanding of the game shone through, and after a standout performance, you earned your spot on the World Cup roster.

Your inclusion raised eyebrows. You’d only played two matches with the National team and had limited experience with Real Madrid’s first team, mostly featuring in their youth categories. But you were determined to make the most of the opportunity.

During the first training session, you stuck to Misa’s side like glue. You’d already met Jenni and Laia during the friendly matches, and they’d been incredibly supportive. But Alexia was a different story. She arrived late, still recovering from a long-term injury, but she was ready for the World Cup.

The first time you saw her, it felt like witnessing a celestial being. Her bright pink hair framed her face, and her eyes seemed to light up the room. She was warm and approachable as she introduced herself.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said, glancing at her teammates with a smile.

Your cheeks burned red. Misa, standing beside you, bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. She knew all about your crush on Alexia, and she wasn’t about to let you live it down.

Alexia was an absolute sweetheart, always going out of her way to help you. She became so invested in you that she couldn’t help the feelings that began to grow. The tournament ended with your victory over England, and you scored the most crucial goal of the match. Over time, you and Alexia grew so close that the thought of returning to your separate lives filled you both with anxiety. Fortunately, you had one last chance to spend time together—the trip to Ibiza—and you made the most of every moment.

Afterward, you returned to your routine: striving to improve at Real Madrid B, focusing on your studies, and catching glimpses of Alexia whenever your paths crossed during national team camps.

You watched FC Barcelona thrive, and a pang of envy crept in, wishing you could one day celebrate such victories with your own team.

As time passed, you turned twenty-two, sitting on the bench as your team suffered yet another defeat in El Clásico. What hurt the most was seeing Misa’s disappointment. Your body ached to step onto the pitch, but your mind held you back..

It wasn’t until Spain’s Supercopa final, with your team trailing by three goals and forty-five minutes still on the clock, that something inside you snapped. You didn’t know what came over you, but you stood up, driven by an unshakable determination. You practically begged your coach to let you on the pitch, to at least try to lessen the blow, even if it meant losing by just one goal.

Alexia watched as you prepared to step in, and her heart ached. She thrived on Real Madrid’s defeats, but the hatred she held for the team paled in comparison to the love she felt for you. Her mind was set on scoring, even if it was just once, but her heart wanted to pull you off the field. She wanted to humiliate Real Madrid, not you. To her, you were different—you always had been.

When you were subbed in, you delivered a stunning performance, scoring and assisting to help your team clinch their first title. It was a wild, unforgettable display, fueled by your desire to see Misa succeed. It was an unusual philosophy, but Misa was everything to you in football. Even as you wore the Real Madrid badge on your chest, right on top of the area of your heart, where Alexia belonged, Misa was the one who dominated your thoughts. You had stood by her side through every defeat, every heartbreak, every moment when the weight of the game seemed too heavy to bear. Each loss had carved a little piece out of you, not because you were the one on the field, but because you felt her pain as if it were your own. She was more than just your best friend—she was your closest friend.

But this time was different. This time, you weren’t just watching her fight—you were watching her soar. The cup gleamed in her hands, a symbol of everything she had worked for, everything she had sacrificed. The smile on her face wasn’t just one of victory; it was one of triumph over every doubt, every setback, every moment when the world had tried to tell her she wasn’t enough. And as you stood there, watching her bask in the glory of her hard-earned success, you felt a surge of pride so overwhelming it brought tears to your eyes.

This was everything. This was the moment you had been waiting for, not for yourself, but for her. You had seen the sleepless nights, the endless training sessions, the quiet moments when she questioned if it was all worth it. And now, as she lifted the cup high, her laughter ringing out like music, you knew it was. Every drop of sweat, every tear, every ounce of pain had led her here, to this pinnacle of joy.

You caught sight of Alexia’s sad expression, and it weighed heavily on you. You moved closer, but she stopped you, forcing a small, fake smile and telling you to celebrate your victory and enjoy the moment.

In that moment, as she lost and you won, she felt like she had lost you too. She had lost herself in you, and now, in defeat, she was determined to find herself again. But rediscovering herself meant letting you go. She had to lose you to find who she was.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

No One Here Is Alone

Elks Chapter 2

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Chapter Rating: T. (Nothing explicit for the first few chapters.) Chapter Summary: Two evenings spent painting, two evenings with Joel Miller cooking dinner for you, two evenings of him gazing at you in that certain way, and one walk home together under a shared umbrella. Chapter Warnings: FIX IT FIC ALERT, pov switching (joel is in bold), soft jackson joel, romance, rumors still spread in the apocalypse, domestic joel miller making dinner, thigh paint, knee pillow, interrupted tender moment, cat on window sill, there was only one umbrella, early 2000’s indie rock, reader has a backstory Words: 6,800

A/N: I'm so happy to be sharing this story again. My fanfic journey started with these two and I'm happy to be adding so much more to their story. Listen, IDK what you're expecting, but this Joel is soft and this whole fic is written like one big, comforting hug. If you're reading it, please line up for your hug. (I am a cold, Scottish lass who does not like touch sooooo if you get a hug from me, you've earned it.) Thank you to @devineconjuring for all of her brilliant beta work.

Elks Masterlist Masterlist Playlist Chapter Song: “Infinite Arms" by Band of Horses

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Joel feels a strange feeling as he straightens up his workshop. He made sure to hide the carving he’s currently working on in the cabinet, as if anybody could even tell what the final product will be. Still, Joel Miller believes in caution.

He brushes his calloused hand across the workbench, sweeping wood shavings to the floor. He still sometimes forgets to grab the dustpan when he sweeps the floor–he still can’t believe he owns one in the apocalypse.

Just last year, he would’ve scoffed at the idea of having a workshop, of creating rather than surviving. Back then, his hands were tools for different work. Weapons. Means to an end. Now, they shape wood into delicate sculptures, finding beauty from a blank canvas.

He grabs the broom and dustpan out of the closet, sweeping up the pile of wood shavings and dust, trying to make the room perfect for you. He dumps the shavings into a small metal bin–they’ll later be used as kindling.

He leans against the workbench, looking around the workshop Tommy helped him build and equip. He still isn’t used to it—this strange semblance of a normal life.

He hears the familiar slam of the front door and walks out of the room, broom and dustpan in hand, finding Ellie kicking her boots off.

“Hey,” she smiles, dropping her backpack to the floor and removing her jacket. “Heard you’ll have company tonight.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “My teacher of all people!” she gasps.

“S’not like that,” Joel responds.

“Whatever,” Ellie says, rolling her eyes with a wide smile. “Then why is your hair slicked back like that? You never slick back your hair.”

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling oddly self-conscious under the teenager’s gaze. "Just… wanted a change.”

"Sure. And I suppose you just felt like sweeping your workshop on a random Monday afternoon?”

Joel lets out a heavy sigh and makes his way to the kitchen. “Pick up your jacket and backpack.”

“Eh, I’m heading to Dina’s soon; I’ll grab them on the way out.”

He pauses mid-stride, turning back to face her. “You didn’t ask if you could go to Dina’s.”

“Nope, but I also don’t think you want my watchful eyes around while Teach is here.”

She’s got a point, and Joel knows it. There's no way he can afford to give Ellie any more reasons to make fun of him, especially not today.

—-

It's a beautiful Monday evening, a light breeze rolling off the mountains as the sun sets behind it. Joel’s house looks like it’s glowing under the aureate sky as you make your way up the path. You’re getting around much better now since your knees have started healing.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself before giving Joel’s front door three quick knocks. You clutch your messenger bag tightly, nervously bouncing back and forth on your heels.

The door swings open, revealing Joel with a warm smile. “Hi, come on in.”

“Hey,” you reply, trying to keep your smile under control.

"Let me show you the room."

Joel leads you into his home to a makeshift studio just off the living room. The space takes your breath away–it’s filled with an array of finished woodworkings, half-carved animals, shelves of tools, and a long worktable. You'd never expect it, but Joel is an artist.

It’s so open and warm, lived in and utilized. You're happy places like this can still exist in other people's homes. 

The sight of a few guitars leaning against the wall surprises you.

“You play guitar?” you ask.

He nods. “Been playing almost my whole life. You?”

“Same, but my guitar broke a few weeks ago,” you say with a hint of sadness. “There’s a big hole in the side now.”

“That’s rough. Your stereo and your guitar?”

It surprises you a bit that Joel’s remembered about your stereo.

“Afraid so,” you admit. “It’s very quiet in my home.”

“Those guitars over there are broken, but I just haven’t gotten around to fixing ‘em. I’m sure I could easily repair one for you,” he offers.

“Joel, you—that’s incredibly kind,” you reply, touched but hesitant. “I couldn’t ask you to do that for me.”

“No, s’okay, I like fixing things,” he insists with a reassuring smile. 

“Wish I could fix things,” you say with a nervous chuckle. “By the time I would be done, it’d be a pile of sawdust.”

A huff of air releases out of Joel’s mouth, his smile making a dimple you’ve never noticed before appear. God, he’s gorgeous. “You’re funny. I can see why Ellie likes you.”

Heat creeps up your chest and settles into your cheeks. The way he looks at you overwhelms you so much you have to glance away. “So, Where would you like me to draw the mural?” you ask, using your question to cut through the nervousness inside you. 

“Was thinking over on this wall with the window. I can see it from my chair in the living room.” 

You turn to examine the large, empty wall. You’re not sure if the cream hue is the original paint color or if it was colored that way from age. Either way, it’s a perfect canvas.

“Good choice,” you say. “Do you want the whole wall?”

“The whole wall.”

“Just bluebells?” you clarify.

“Just bluebells.”

“Perfect.”

You pull the pencil from the chest pocket of your overalls, gently pressing it against the wall to sketch out the first bluebell. You can feel his eyes on you, his large body crowding the space behind you. You try to focus on your drawing, blocking out the sound of his breathing and the heat of his closeness.

Joel clears his throat. “I’ll just be in the kitchen making dinner. Did ya’ eat?”

“No,” you reply, glancing back at him. “But I can eat after I’m done here.”

“Have more than enough here for another person, and Ellie’s at Dina’s tonight. You like pasta?”

“Of course I do,” you say with a smile. “I’d starve if I didn’t. Shelf stable.”

Joel chuckles, “I’ll be in the kitchen cooking. Just holler if you need anything. Help yourself to any of the supplies I have here.”

You nod as Joel turns and strides down the hall.

—-

You’re just down the hall, clad in light blue overalls covered in paint stains. All he has to do is take the twelve small steps to the room, and he’d get to see your pretty face.

He makes himself focus, busying himself in the kitchen, stirring the boiling pasta so he doesn’t just stand silently in the hallway trying to hear the scratch of your pencil against the wall or the occasional approving “yes” under your breath when you’re happy with a line. It’s oddly comforting, having someone else fill the empty spaces of his home.

Boston never felt like a home, no matter the poorly realized strong feelings he had for Tess. It’s hard to make a home out of a dilapidated apartment where his lumpy mattress rested on cinderblocks.

Cooking in a large kitchen–with full cupboards and a fridge–still feels like he’s playing pretend. But he’s trying to get used to it. For Ellie… and maybe for himself.

He can just make out the soft sound of your humming. He doesn't recognize the tune, but it makes him smile nonetheless. He catches himself and straightens his face, feeling foolish.

Dinner will be ready soon, an idea lighting in his mind as he cuts two slices of bread from the loaf he just picked up this morning from the co-op.

—-

“What a beautiful face, I have found in this place, That is circling all ‘round the sun, What a beautiful dream...”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle as you hear the familiar strum of a guitar, breaking the silence that had settled in the room while you quietly sketched. For the last hour, the only noises were Joel’s movements in the kitchen and the soft sound of your pencil against the wall.

Now, his home is filled with the sound of the first song off of your mixed CD you had left there. Despite being all alone in his studio, you can’t help but grin. You tuck your pencil behind your ear and head to the kitchen.

You almost stop in your tracks at the sight–Joel’s biceps stretch the sleeves of his gray shirt as he lifts the pot and drains the cooked pasta. The steam floats into the air, swirling around him, creating an almost dreamlike scene of domestic bliss. You blink a few times, reaching for your daisy pendant to center yourself, helping yourself realize that this is, in fact, really happening.

It’s almost as if he senses your presence, turning his head to find you resting against the kitchen doorway.

“Neutral Milk Hotel,” you say.

“S’a pretty good song,” he replies, turning, his gaze landing on your pendant. 

“From my CD?” you ask.

“It is.”

“Thanks for playing it,” you smile. “It’s nice to hear it again.”

“Course. When’d your player break?”

“A while ago. I lived without a stereo for close to fifteen years. My CDs sat in a crate next to my bed all those years. I got used to them existing almost like photographs, circular snapshots of memories… silent and incapable of their original use,” you say, your voice trailing off as you remember. “When I got here and walked into my house, the first thing I saw was the small boombox on the shelf. I almost passed out when Maria told me it worked.” Joel stands there, spoon in hand, his eyes fixed on you, not impatient, not bored, but rather a tender fascination as you speak. “It had to be repaired a few times, and Gordon kept warning me that it wasn’t built to last. Took it to him the day after it broke for good, and he let me know nothing could be done,” you sigh. “Sorry, I tend to ramble.”

You can feel the embarrassment creeping up your neck, but Joel just shakes his head.

"Don't apologize," he says gently. "I understand what it's like to lose something that connects you to… before."

“Thanks. I still have other things to fill my time, so it’s not as bad as I’m making it seem. I know it’s a luxury, and I know I can live without it. It’s just… the noise kept me company, you know?” 

“I do,” he responds, tilting his head towards the table. “Dinner’s about ready.”

You sit down at his table by the window, the glow of the sunset streaming through, casting a soft light over everything. Coffee rings cover Joel’s wooden tabletop, a sign he probably never cleans up his mug until after he’s home in the evening. It feels so comfortable and warm here.

His back is turned as he dishes the pasta and sauce into two bowls, allowing you to take him in. You let yourself stare, memorizing the broadness of his shoulders and the bits of curly hair on the back of his neck. There's something so beautifully mundane about watching him move through his kitchen. 

"Thank you," you say as he places one in front of you. "It smells amazing."

"Just pasta," he shrugs, sitting across from you.

“This looks delicious,” you say, picking up your fork.

“Sauce was made by Maria. She takes pity on my kitchen skills and makes sure Ellie and I are well-fed.” 

“She’s great,” you say through a bite. “So is Tommy.”

He nods in agreement, watching you intently as if he’s captivated by your presence. You’d be doing the same if you weren’t so nervous about him noticing. You sense Joel doesn’t care if you notice him watching.

You both settle into a shared silence while you eat, your CD playing in the background.

A slow and haunting song begins to play, and Joel looks up from his meal. “This is my favorite song on your CD.”

“Cheer up, honey. I hope you can, There is something wrong with me, My mind is filled with silvery stars.”

“‘Radio Cure’ by Wilco,” you say. “One of my favorite bands. My only CD of theirs is so scratched it no longer works. This is the only song I have now.” 

You get lost in the music, leaning back and mouthing the lyrics silently. 

“S’beautiful,” he says softly as you open your eyes and find him watching you again. He clears his throat, “... the song’s beautiful.”

Your heart skips a beat at the tenderness in his voice. So soft and deep. You wonder if he talks to anybody else this gently. 

“If you like it, keep my CD,” you offer. “You’ll get more use out of it than I will now.” 

“I’ll borrow it until you get a new CD player,” Joel says as he stands and takes his bowl to the sink. “You’re welcome to come over and listen anytime. You can bring your other CDs over if you want.”

“Really? I appreciate that,” your voice lifts with excitement.

“Glad to help.”

“I’m going to get back to drawing before it gets any darker,” you say, handing him your empty bowl. “I really enjoyed dinner, thank you.”

“‘Course,” he nods, taking the bowl from your hand and depositing it into the soapy water.

You return to the woodworking room, pick up your pencil, and continue delicately sketching flowers on his wall.

—-

Joel’s house is quiet again once your CD has finished playing. You’re too focused on drawing to really miss it.

“Did you want another light in here?” Joel’s voice startles you, making you jolt and turn to find him leaning against the doorway; you don’t know how long he’s been standing there. “S’getting dark in here.”

“Y-yeah, that would be great. I just want to finish up the first outline tonight.” 

Joel nods and heads over to the large cabinet in the corner, retrieving a work light.

“This’ll help,” he says, grunting slightly as he bends over and plugs it in.

The bright light floods the room; now, you can see every delicate line you’ve sketched across the wall.

“Thank you,” you say, blinking your eyes to adjust.

“It’s lookin’ really nice so far.” Joel’s voice dips low, barely audible.

You begin to sketch again, thankful for the extra light. “I love the process of beginning a large piece like this. It makes me so excited to think what it’ll look like when it’s all finished. Breaking it down into small steps, then seeing it all come together.”

“No wonder Ellie’s always so excited about art when you put it all that way.” 

You nod without looking back at him, trying to hide the smile playing on your lips.

“Well, I’ll just be in the living room reading my book. Lemme know if I can help,” he offers.

“Thanks.”

Joel’s footsteps fade as he walks into the living room. You hear him settle into his chair with a sigh. The chair he can sit in and look at your mural from, the chair he can sit in and watch you work from. Your insides twist as you feel like you’re being watched by him. You like it. 

You round each small petal, making every flower perfect for Joel’s eyes, the bluebells taking shape and spreading across the wall.

Sometimes, you hear a page turn, or an occasional sniff, or a throat clear. It feels odd to be this comfortable in Joel’s space. But, somehow, it feels familiar, the nerves dissipating with each bluebell you draw.

You step back from the wall, surveying the outline. You’re very happy with it.

“Okay,” you say, shaking out your overused hand and stretching your tired fingers. 

“Finished for the night?” Joel asks as he stands and steps into the room. “It’s beautiful,” he says, his eyes lingering on the wall.

“Thanks,” you reply, feeling a mix of pride and uncertainty. “There’s still a lot that has to be done, but I’m really happy with how it’s looking so far.” You back up to stand next to him, glancing at him to gauge his reaction. "When do you want me to come back?"

“I’ll be out on patrol with Tommy until Friday night. I know you have the library, but does Saturday work for you?”

“No, it’s okay, Saturday’s good. Same time?”

“Same time,” he confirms with a nod. “I’ll make dinner again.”

“You really don’t have to,” you reply, bending down to grab your bag.

“S’okay, I want to.” 

“Okay,” you reply, stifling a yawn and blinking your tired eyes. 

Joel notices and grins slightly, watching you. “Getting late for you, huh?” 

“Yeah, close to my bedtime,” you admit. 

He walks with you to his door and holds it open. "G’night. I'll see you on Saturday."

“Have a safe patrol,” you say as you step out the door, turning back to him with a small smile. “Goodnight.”

You feel Joel’s quiet, watchful gaze follow you as you leave his yard.  

You crawl into bed that night without bothering to change out of your shirt. It smells like Joel’s home.

—-

He looks up at the sky, trying to get comfortable on the hard ground. He’s far too used to his comfortable mattress in his home now. Tommy’s already asleep, softly snoring across from him as the low campfire crackles between them. Joel shifts, tucking his arm beneath his head as a makeshift pillow. Sleep won’t come easy tonight.

The Pink Moon sits high in the sky tonight, surrounded by innumerable stars. He wonders if you're looking at it right now, too, or if you’re already asleep, dreaming of bluebells.

"Damn," he mutters under his breath, running a hand down his face. When did he start thinking about you like this? Was it when you walked into the community hall the first day he arrived in Jackson? Or when Ellie wouldn't stop talking about her new teacher?

It’s only been three days, and he actually feels like he misses you.

Tommy stirs for a second before settling back into slumber. Joel watches his brother sleep, reminding him of the years they spent together in a far harsher reality.

In a few months, Tommy will be a father. The thought still amazes him. His little brother, the one who always believed in a better existence, is building something Joel never thought possible in this world–a family and a future.

He turns over, staring up at the sky, as he thinks of the wall in his woodworking room, now covered in delicate bluebells you’ll soon paint and bring to life.

—-

“Hey lady,” your friend Helen greets you as she steps into your classroom, interrupting your paper grading. 

You look up and give her a smile. “What’s up?”

“A group of us are getting drinks tomorrow night at the Bison. You in?” 

“Oh,” you pause, putting your pen down. “I can’t. I’m painting something for Joel Miller at his house.” 

Her eyebrows rise. “Joel Miller, Joel Miller?” 

“Yeah…” you nod.

She steps closer, crossing her arms with a smirk. “So, the rumors are true?”

“Rumors?” you ask.

“Grace said she saw you leaving his place late Monday night. Apparently, Joel stood and watched you walk home the whole way.”

You roll your eyes. “God, this place is small, isn’t it?”

Helen laughs, her expression softening as she moves closer. “He nice to you?” Her protective side always shows when it comes to you. 

“I wouldn’t be doing this for him if he wasn’t.”

She nods. “Atta girl, I’ll leave you to it,” she knocks on your desk before leaving. You’ve heard all the rumors about Tommy Miller’s scary older brother. You’ve listened intently as people regaled tales of his violent past and whispered stories of his brutality. You heard the hush amongst the crowd whenever he’d walk into a room when he and Ellie first showed up. He’s supposedly a monster, and yet all you see are deep, soft brown eyes that crinkle at the corners whenever he smiles at you.

—-

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t exhausted after running the library today, and yet there’s still a sense of excitement as you walk down the road towards Joel’s house, shielding yourself and your box of paints beneath an umbrella.

Joel opens the door before you even get to the porch steps, his broad body backlit by the golden glow of his home.

"Hey there," he says with a small smile, stepping aside to let you in. "Nasty weather out there. Was lookin’ for you so you didn’t get stuck in the rain.”

You lose the fight to hide a smile at his sweetness. “Thanks, it’s awful out,” you reply, stepping inside and shrugging off your flannel. “How was patrol?” 

“Same as usual,” he remarks, taking your jacket and hanging it on the hook over his coat.

“Well, that’s a good thing,” you reply, already heading into his woodworking room and placing your paints on the floor.

Joel follows right behind you, watching as you kneel and begin unpacking your supplies.

“That your CD book?” Joel nods to the faded black leather portfolio with tattered corners covered in faded stickers. 

“Yeah, I brought it over.”

“Haven’t seen something like that in years. Can I look at ‘em?” “Go ahead,” you say with a warm smile, handing the album up to him. “Find something to play. It’s your stereo, after all. Don’t tell me what you pick. I want it to be a surprise.”

You love hearing the gentle, rhythmic thump of the pages as Joel flips through the album.

“Don’t recognize most of these names,” he murmurs. “What kind of music do you like?” you ask as you unroll your brush holder and pick out the brushes you’ll need.

“Rock, country… a little bit of blues.”

“Country? Really? How typical Texas of you,” you tease with a playful smile, raising an eyebrow. He chuckles. “Good country. Real country. Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, ’n the like.” “I stand corrected, Texas.”

He grunts in amusement while you begin laying out your paints on the countertop, carefully choosing your colors. 

“Found something,” Joel says.

“Can’t wait to hear what you pick,” you respond, pulling your palette out of your bag as he leaves the room with the unknown CD in hand.

A bluesy rock guitar intro with a steady drumbeat starts as you mix emerald and olive tones together.

“Haven’t heard this one in over 20 years,” Joel comments as he comes back into the room. “I always liked The Rolling Stones.” 

“Me too. I actually got this CD from your brother, believe it or not.”

Joel leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "Tommy gave you that?"

"Yeah, last year. He brought it back from patrol. He figured I’d want it, and he was right. Maria and Tommy have both been great to me.”

Joel stands there watching you, a small smile playing on his lips. "Tommy's always had a good heart."

"It runs in the family," you mutter, regretting the words the moment they leave your lips. With a slight shake of your head, you look back down at your palette and dip your brush into the green paint, making a few strokes on the palette before turning to face the wall.

You kneel down on the hardwood floor and begin to trace the slim lines of stems across the wall. Your brush and body move slowly and smoothly in tandem, rising to finish each stem tip. Joel’s steady and attentive gaze follows you the whole time. 

“Never thought I’d see somebody paint like this again,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s my favorite thing to do,” you say, your focus unwavering from the wall. 

“Can tell,” the gentleness of his voice causes a shiver down your spine. “M’excited to see how it’ll look when it’s done.”

“Me too.”

You hear Joel take a deep breath, and his footsteps shift. “I’m gonna go finish cleanin’ my guns,” he says with an exhale. “I’ll be in the dining room if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” you respond, turning to look back at him with a smile. Suddenly, a large glob of green paint falls from the paintbrush in your hand, landing on your thigh. 

Joel’s eyes immediately drop to the spot, widening as you grab your rag and wipe the paint off.

He clears his throat, his cheeks starting to blush a subtle shade of red. “Uh, right. I’ll be in the dining room,” he repeats, turning quickly to stride away.

His hurried footsteps fade as they move into the next room– a small smile tugs at your lips, and a rush of excitement blooms within you. 

You dip your brush back into the paint again, steadying your breath, and begin painting a new stem. —-

Joel has cleaned this Winchester hundreds of times. He could practically do it with his eyes closed, yet tonight, his hands fumble with the bolt carrier.

He's spent twenty minutes on a five-minute job because he can’t stop thinking about you. The way your hands move across his wall, the confidence in your art, the slight furrow in your brow when you're concentrating, the beautiful green paint on your beautiful skin.

He sets down the cleaning rod with a soft sigh, his calloused fingers tapping against the wooden table. If he cranes his neck just right, he can see the edge of you through the doorway. The Rolling Stones still play quietly in the background, and Joel notices how your body sometimes sways slightly along to the song.

Five days on patrol shouldn't have felt so long. It was the same route he'd taken dozens of times with Tommy, the same checkpoints, the same abandoned buildings. But for the first time, he wanted to go back home. To Jackson. To you.

—-

The rain patters steadily against the windows as you work. It almost feels too comfortable being in Joel’s home, painting as the CD softly plays in the other room, the occasional clink of metal coming from down the hall.

"S'pretty dark in here. Do you want that work light again?” Joel asks, interrupting your focus. 

“Yes, please,” you reply, not taking your eyes off the delicate petal you’re working on.

Joel shuffles behind you, pulling the light out. You recognize the same low grunt that left his mouth earlier this week when he bends over to plug it in. The light buzzes on, flooding the room and your painting with a bright white glow.

“You been kneeling on the floor like that for long?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. 

“Yep, it’s not so bad while down here.”

“Ya’ still have the hurt knees, and you’re kneeling on the damn hardwood floor,” he mumbles under his breath as he leaves the room. 

You’ve gotten used to people not being concerned about such simple things as your personal comfort. Joel’s worry for you makes you feel a foreign feeling. 

He returns and holds a pillow out for you. “Here, grabbed ya’ this.”

“Oh, I’m okay, really,” you protest, “I don’t want to accidentally get paint on it.” 

“Don’t care, take it,” he insists.

You hesitate for a second before taking the pillow and slipping it underneath your already aching knees.

“Feels much better, thank you,” you say, settling back and forth on the softness. 

“Welcome.” 

A long sigh escapes his lips, catching your attention. You glance up and meet his eyes—the hazel flecks shine in the light supplied by the work lamp.

His tongue darts out to wet his supple lips, and your eyes move to watch. He reaches a hand out, his thumb resting against your cheek, his fingers gently cradling your chin. 

Your breath hitches, your lips parting as you inhale deeply, and a shiver runs through your entire body. The music from the stereo fades into the background; all that exists now in this moment is Joel’s touch. 

“Thank you again for doin’ this for me,” he says, his voice low and tender. “Been thinkin’ about how nice it’s gonna be to look over and see this once it’s finished… reminding me of home.”

“O-of course,” you stammer, your eyes still lingering on his mouth. 

“Mm,” he grunts, his head dipping with a slight nod. 

“L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L-L–” The music stutters, caught in a loop, cutting through the moment.

“Shit, I forgot this song always does that,” you say as Joel’s hand retreats from your cheek. 

“I got it,” he says, quickly striding out of the room. 

“You just have to skip to the next track, and it should work!” you call after him as your skin still tingles from where his hand had been moments ago, silently cursing your scratched CD.  

The track changes, the interruption long gone, just like Joel’s touch. You return to painting, calming your body and emotions in the aftermath. You exhale slowly, trying to calm the flutter of nerves in your chest, grounding yourself back into the rhythm of painting. You don’t hear from him until well after the CD finishes and the house has fallen silent.

—-

“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” Joel says, tapping softly on the doorframe, snapping you out of your reverie as you paint. “You got a lot done—it’s lookin’ real good.”

You glance over your shoulder at him, surprised by how much time has passed. The shared moment between the two of you now feels long gone and distant.

“Thanks,” you respond. “I just want to finish up on this bluebell.”

“Take your time. Just come to the kitchen when you’re all done in here.” 

—-

He stares at the table, his hands resting against his hips. He doesn’t know why he wants to impress you. He’s never been one for setting a proper table, but tonight, he’s even folded the tattered cloth napkins.

There’s something about you–something that makes him feel like the world isn’t as broken as he knows it to be.

He watches the steam rise from the pot of soup he’s made, almost feeling nervous. He wants you to like it. He wants you to like him.

—-

You stand up, stretching your back to ease the stiffness, rinsing your brush in the jar of water before making your way down the hall to the kitchen. Your steps almost falter at the sight–Joel Miller sitting at his neatly set kitchen table. A soup spoon rests atop a folded napkin, a glass of water lined up next to it. He’s even taken the time to wipe up the coffee stains.

“Hope you like turkey and barley soup,” Joel says as you walk into the kitchen. 

“Any soup makes me happy,” you reply with a smile, taking a seat across from him.

“Good. This one I actually made; Maria didn’t have to take pity on me for this meal,” he says, a small grin lifting his lips.

The care he’s put into a simple dinner doesn’t go unnoticed. You’re touched. The soup looks delicious, steam rising from the ceramic bowl.

You take a bite, the warm soup sliding down your throat. Perfect for a chilly rainy evening, it’s good. “Joel, this is… really good.”

His eyes soften when he sends you a nod.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence, with only the sound of your spoons clinking against the bowls. You should be nervous in this situation, but the way Joel handles himself in front of you–as if he’s perfectly comfortable with you in his home–makes your nerves settle.

"Thanks for dinner," you say, watching Joel finish his last spoonful. "It was exactly what I needed after painting for so long."

You place your spoon down and sit back in your chair. “What was your favorite food before… everything?”

He thinks for a moment. “Don’t really know. Maybe tamales? My mom used to make them every year for the holidays. I could eat six of them in one sitting.” 

“I loved tamales, too. You know, I just remembered margaritas. I used to always see people drink them when we’d go out to eat Mexican food, and I thought that looked so cool. I never got to try one.” 

He watches you with that familiar expression, as if he could listen to you talk for hours, nodding along with a small smile. “What was your favorite food?” he asks.

“Fettuccine Alfredo, one hundred percent. My mom used to make it for me every year for my birthday. If we went to an Italian restaurant, it’s what I’d always order. Definitely Fettuccine Alfredo.”

“Never had it, always just stuck to pouring a jar of Ragu over spaghetti or a frozen lasagna,” he says, a small grin on his face. 

“I miss those too. And cheese. I miss being able to have cheese whenever I wanted so much. The stuff we have now just isn’t the same.”

“Mm,” Joel nods. “Kinda like the ice cream we have. Not the same, but good enough.”

“Isn’t that the motto of these times?” you say with a smirk. “Not the same, but good enough.”

“It’s a good one,” Joel pauses. “You’re funny.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, feeling Joel’s eyes follow your movements as he gets up. 

You stand as well, grabbing your bowl to follow Joel over to the sink. He reaches for it, his fingers brushing against yours as he takes it from your hand. “You seem to be almost finished in there.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I can finish tonight. I think there’s still a couple more hours of work left.” 

“Of course. I don’t want to keep you any longer tonight. I know you had a long day, and I know it’s a lot bein’ down on the floor like that for as long you were.” 

“Yeah, my knees are aching again,” you admit with a shy smile. “When do you want me to come and finish it?”

“Monday at the same time, if you want. Sundays are always reserved for Ellie.”

"Monday works just fine," you reply, smiling at the idea of him reserving an entire day just for Ellie. "I can be here right after work. Is it okay if I leave my things in the room? If not, that’s okay too. I can take them ho–” 

“S’fine,” he interrupts gently. He places his hand against your back. “Don’t mind at all. I’ll walk you home. It’s getting late, and it’s still rainin’ pretty bad.” 

You protest. “No, I’ll be okay. I’ve walked through much worse.” 

“Don’t care,” he cuts you off as he grabs your flannel from the hook. “I’m walking you home, it’s pourin’.”

He holds your flannel open for you and offers a slight nod. You step forward and slip your arms through the sleeves, the closeness sending goosebumps across your skin.

"Thanks," you lowly whisper.

“Course,” Joel breathes out as you step away and grab your backpack.

“You really don’t have to—“

“Now, stop telling me I don’t have to,” he says, mild frustration tinging his voice as he shrugs on his jacket. “I want to.”

He opens the door and motions you to go ahead of him before grabbing your umbrella. 

“Don’t you have one as well?” you ask.

“Never got one.” 

You step out, the rain pouring down in a steady stream. “It’s good for the crops and the water reserves, at least,” you shrug as Joel holds the umbrella above you. 

As you two make your way down the road, you notice the rain pelting Joel, his head and shoulders already damp as he holds the umbrella over you.

“There’s enough room for both of us under here; there’s no sense in you getting soaked,” you say, stepping closer to him.

He mumbles something softly–it sounds like “Y’sweet,” but the rain drowns out his words. You almost think you imagined it. He adjusts the umbrella, moving it so both of you are shielded from the rain.

The two of you walk towards your home, your bodies occasionally tapping against each other as Joel huddles over you. You wish you could slow down, draw out your time next to him, stay under the shelter of the umbrella and his body.

“That’s me, right there,” you say, nodding towards your front door. 

“Y’got a cat?” Joel asks when he sees your cat Penny sitting on your windowsill backlit by your lamp.

“Yeah, two of them. You like cats?”

“Even if I did, couldn’t have ‘em. Allergic.”

“That’s a shame,” you reply with a shrug.

“Hm,” he grunts with a subtle smile.

Escaping the rain underneath the safety of your front porch awning, Joel closes your umbrella and hands it back to you as you tap your wet boots against your frayed welcome mat.

“Well, thanks for walking me home. I’ll see you Monday?” You say as you rest your back against your front door.

“Yeah,” Joel says, his eyes holding your attention for a moment longer than expected. “See you Monday.”

He turns and leaves your little yard, turning back around at your fencepost to give you a nod before continuing down the road in the dark rain. 

Joel Miller just walked you home.

—-

The rain pelts him as he walks home, trying to avoid the large puddles scattered across the ground. The feeling inside his chest is familiar and yet still so foreign. You might just be the sweetest and kindest person he’s ever met.

Kindness, he used to know it. Hell, he used to teach it. 

Telling Sarah to hold doors open for the elderly. Letting Tommy know he needs to drop in to visit their mom more often, not just when he needed to borrow a few bucks. Not charging the overwhelmed father overtime fees for drywall work when a burst pipe destroyed half his kitchen. Helping the short woman grab a bottle of soda off the top shelf at the grocery store. 

But, thousands of miles traversed across a wasteland, killing and pillaging after losing the one reason he had to live, changes a man. 

Then, Tommy. Becoming the grown-up as soon as Sarah took her last breath, keeping a watchful eye on Joel. Running through the door, grabbing the gun after Joel flinched, slapping him across the face and saying he needed him. That someday, someone else would need him. That Joel couldn’t leave him alone—not after they’d already lost so much.

Then, Tess. Exceedingly tough and resourceful. Teaching him that there’s more to getting what you want than violence. That you can lose everything and still believe in something better. 

Then, Ellie. All she’s known is this world he’s called cruel and unforgiving, and yet, she’s tenacious, funny, and excited for every day. Each mile traveled with her, each cheesy joke she giggled at, each time she’d hide behind him, a bit of kindness would wrap around his heart. 

He glances at the garage in his backyard. The lights are out; he’s sure she’s already asleep by now. 

Then, Jackson. How can one care for others when they can’t even care for themselves?  It was always easier to say community no longer exists… until the gates opened to him, and he saw a future for not only himself but for Ellie, too. 

He steps through his door, knocking his wet boots against the rug before slipping them off and putting them on a shoe rack. He never thought he’d have something as ridiculously utilitarian as a shoe rack. Now, he has a warm home to make his own, a comfortable bed to lie in, safety, and protection. Foreign luxuries that now seem normal. 

He slowly learned to believe that there was hope, there was kindness. He didn’t have to lock his heart away. He could have a future while still holding onto the past kindness he once knew. 

He walks into his studio and studies the half-finished mural. Green stems climb across the wall, waiting for you to make the petals bloom. He leans in, his eyes following your delicate brush strokes. His heart is overwhelmed by the time and care you’ve put forth to do this for him. He doesn’t deserve this kindness, and yet, your art tells him otherwise. 

And then, there’s you. Your bright flowers covering dingy walls, leaving the world a little more beautiful. Your joy for teaching your students, especially Ellie. Your little library, giving his fellow residents an escape with each tattered book. People like you shouldn’t exist, so young when the world ended, and yet here you are–restoring kindness into the too-often cruel world. Restoring kindness inside his heart. 

He opens the cabinet in the corner of his studio, pulling out the wooden block just starting to take shape and his carving tools before sitting down on his work stool, facing the mural.

Songs mentioned in this chapter: "In The Aeroplane Over The Sea" by Neutral Milk Hotel "Radio Cure" by Wilco "Miss You" by The Rolling Stones

Divider courtesy of @/saradika-graphics

perma tags: @forspringcleaning, @schnarfer, @mothandpidgeon Tagging some mutuals who showed interest and those who requested. (As always, let me know if you'd like to be put on or taken off.) @secretelephanttattoo, @sawymredfox, @moonlitbirdie, @arcanefox207, @almostfoxglove, @pascalssbabyy, @toomanytookas, @jolapeno, @goodwithcheese, @msjarvis @itwasntimethatdidit40, @burntheedges, @magpiepills, @maggiemayhemnj, @ace-turned-confused @lorettafudge, @jennaispunk, @lotusbxtch, @sunnytuliptime, @sizzlingcloudmentality @cheekychaos28, @ashleyfilm, @anoverwhelmingdin, @chewie-bars, @whimsiwitchy @suzysface, @peelieblue, @copperhalfcent, @flawssy-227, @tuquoquebrute

[bloomzone]

why you need to live for yourself and not for others

Let's talk about something we often overlook: living for yourself. Yep, not for your friends, family, that crush who hasn’t texted back, or the people silently scrolling through your life on Instagram. Just. For. You.

Picture This

Imagine you're a painter. Every decision you make—big or small—is a stroke on the canvas of your life. Now, what if you let everyone else hold the brush? Someone adds a splash of gray because they think your dreams are “too colorful.” Another erases a bold streak of red because they’re afraid of what others might say. Before you know it, your painting looks nothing like you.Does that thought feel uncomfortable? It should. Because your life isn’t meant to be someone else’s masterpiece.

Why It’s Tempting to Please Others

Living for others feels like safety sometimes, doesn’t it? You blend in, avoid conflicts, and everyone seems happy. But guess what? Their happiness often comes at the cost of your own. You end up running their race, following their rules, and waking up one day wondering, When did I stop being me?

The truth is, no matter how much you bend, twist, or shrink yourself to fit someone else’s expectations, it’s never enough. People will always have opinions.

The Beauty of Living for Yourself

When you start living for yourself, magic happens. You feel lighter, free, and more connected to your true self. Your days feel brighter because you’re chasing dreams that make your heart skip a beat. And guess what? That joy becomes contagious. Suddenly, you’re inspiring others to be their authentic selves too.

Living for yourself doesn’t mean being selfish—it means being honest. It’s about setting boundaries, saying no when you need to, and choosing what aligns with your heart.

How to Start Living for You

1. Ask Yourself: What Do I Really Want?

Forget what others expect. What you want matters most. Write it down, even if it feels scary.

2. Set Boundaries

Politely decline things that drain your energy or steer you away from your goals. Remember, “No” is a complete sentence.

3. Romanticize Your Journey

Treat your life like the main character moment it is! Treat yourself, blast your favorite songs, and celebrate even the smallest wins.

4. Stay in Your Lane

Comparison is a thief. Focus on your path, your goals, and your growth.

at the eeennnd

Living for yourself isn’t always easy, but it’s the most rewarding thing you’ll ever do. Picture a world where your happiness isn’t tied to anyone else’s approval. Doesn’t that sound dreamy?

So, here’s your reminder to pick up your paintbrush and start creating a masterpiece that’s unapologetically, authentically you.

@bloomzone ✒️

[emmkayyy03]

Darakaraka placements ☀︎

Hello Againn! 🌙

We’ve explored Darakaraka placements, but now let’s dive deeper into the Nakshatras and see how they influence the qualities of your spouse and the nature of your relationship. 🌌 Each Nakshatra brings its own flavor to the planet, adding layers of meaning to the Darakaraka’s influence. Let’s break it down! ✨

Sun as Darakaraka in Different Nakshatras 🌞

Ashvini: A partner who’s independent, quick-thinking, and always ready to take action. You’ll likely meet them in a fast-paced environment, and they might even feel like a breath of fresh air or a spark that ignites something new in your life. The relationship will likely have a youthful, energetic vibe.

Bharani: Your spouse could be someone who embodies transformation, someone who is willing to evolve and grow with you. Expect a karmic connection where both of you may undergo significant changes together—possibly through personal or family-related challenges.

Magha: A regal partner with strong leadership qualities—someone who comes from a respected family or background. The relationship will likely be centered around mutual respect, authority, and growth in status or position. They may also have a deep connection to ancestral traditions.

Purvaphalguni: Your spouse may be charming, creative, and social, drawing you in with their magnetic energy. You’ll likely meet them in a social setting, and the connection could feel like a harmonious dance between you two. Expect a strong emotional bond.

Moon as Darakaraka in Different Nakshatras 🌙

Rohini: A nurturing, beautiful, and emotionally intelligent spouse. The relationship will likely be deeply emotional and centered around security and comfort. You may meet them in a setting that feels familiar, like through family, or at a place that represents comfort and stability.

Mrigashira: A curious, adaptable partner who might always be on the move or involved in new experiences. You might meet them while exploring something new or through an intellectual pursuit. This relationship is all about discovery, and both of you will keep evolving together.

Chitra: Your spouse could be someone who’s deeply artistic or creative, with a unique way of seeing the world. You’ll likely meet them in an artistic or intellectual space, and the relationship will have a touch of magic and creativity. There’s a strong focus on beauty and aesthetics in this union.

Anuradha: A spouse who’s deeply loyal, compassionate, and may have a strong connection to friendship and support. This relationship is likely to be built on mutual trust and emotional understanding, and you may meet them during a time of personal growth or healing.

Mars as Darakaraka in Different Nakshatras 🔥

Ashlesha: A partner who’s intense, mysterious, and can bring out your passion or drive. The relationship may feel fated or karmic, with strong emotional and physical chemistry. You’ll likely meet them during a time of transformation or emotional change.

Magha: A leader-like spouse with authority, strength, and dignity. The relationship may involve themes of status and public recognition. Expect a partner who is strong-willed and could have a powerful, protective energy around them.

Uttara Phalguni: A spouse who’s grounded, generous, and reliable. The connection will likely feel stable and comfortable, and you’ll likely meet them in a community or family setting where trust and loyalty are emphasized.

Purvashada: A partner who’s bold, adventurous, and always ready for the next big thing. You might meet them during a journey or during a significant turning point in your life. The relationship will likely bring out a sense of freedom and exploration in both of you.

Mercury as Darakaraka in Different Nakshatras 🗣

Revati: A gentle, compassionate partner who’s spiritual, thoughtful, and understanding. You might meet them during a spiritual pursuit or at a time when you’re seeking peace and balance in your life. The relationship will have a calming, nurturing energy to it.

Ashvini: Your spouse may be energetic, enthusiastic, and always ready to start something new. They might have a quick wit and be adaptable, and you’ll likely meet them in a fast-paced environment where you’re both on the move. The connection will feel youthful and fresh.

Hasta: Your spouse could be someone with a sharp mind and great communication skills. You’ll likely meet them in a setting where skills or craftsmanship are involved. This relationship is likely to revolve around shared learning, growth, and intellectual exploration.

Shravana: A spouse who’s deeply communicative, understanding, and listens well. You’ll likely meet them in a community setting, perhaps where there’s a focus on learning, teaching, or intellectual discussion. This relationship will bring a sense of comfort and deep connection.

Venus as Darakaraka in Different Nakshatras 🌸

Purvaphalguni: A charming, creative, and social partner. You’ll meet them in a social or artistic environment, and the relationship will have an easy flow, filled with enjoyment and mutual admiration. The connection will be romantic and full of passion.

Anuradha: A loving, loyal, and devoted spouse with a deeply emotional connection. You might meet them through a close friend or in a situation where trust is a major factor. This relationship will evolve over time, becoming a strong, stable partnership.

Rohini: A beautiful, nurturing partner who brings comfort, care, and stability. The relationship will likely feel luxurious, grounded, and emotional, and you may meet them during a time of personal growth or emotional fulfillment.

Purvashada: A spouse who’s adventurous, bold, and independent. You’ll likely meet them during a journey, trip, or adventure that challenges you both in some way. Expect a dynamic relationship that pushes you to grow in unexpected ways.

Saturn as Darakaraka in Different Nakshatras 🛠

Uttara Ashadha: A partner who’s serious, disciplined, and possibly older than you. The relationship may start slow, but it will likely build into something deep and long-lasting. You’ll probably meet them in a structured, professional environment, or through a family connection.

Pushya: A spouse who’s nurturing, patient, and wise. The relationship will feel secure and stable, and you may meet them in a place where you feel emotionally grounded or cared for, like through family or community.

Shatabhisha: A mysterious, independent partner who values freedom. This relationship may involve a lot of personal space and growth, with both partners learning to find balance between independence and commitment.

Chitra: A spouse who’s artistic, disciplined, and visionary. You’ll likely meet them in an environment where creativity and structure come together, like in an artistic or professional setting. The relationship will have both emotional depth and creative flow.

🌌 Final Thoughts: Each Nakshatra brings its own set of flavors to the Darakaraka energy, shaping how we meet and connect with our partners. Every placement and Nakshatra tells a different cosmic story, so trust the stars when they guide you to your soulmate! 🌟

Got a Darakaraka Nakshatra placement that resonates with your life? Drop a comment below, and let’s chat more!

[thatsexcpisces]

Gifts to get the moon signs for Christmas 🎄🤍

°❆⛄⋆.ೃ࿔🦌*:･❄️ °❆⛄⋆.ೃ࿔🦌*:･❄️ °❆⛄⋆.ೃ࿔🦌*:･❄️

Aries moon: clothing and items for the gym and working out, bold accessories that make them stand out, hats, earrings, tickets or a class for their favorite activity or take them on any fun adventure, new car (if you wanna go big), fancy mirrors, watch, strong fragrance, trendy gadgets

Taurus moon: jewelry, luxuriously-presented items, something cozy and for the home, a spa day voucher, soft blanket, cute slippers, beauty products, skin and self care items

Gemini moon: cute journals to write down their thoughts, entertaining card/games (ex. cards against humanity), stationary, technology, thought-provoking gifts, their favorite book collections.

Cancer moon: cooking set, something sentimental and hand-made (ex. a scrapbook of all your memories together), a comfy robe to lounge in, recipe book, candles and stuff for the home

Leo moon: gifts related to their interests whether musical or hobbies in general. ex., if they love lana del rey get them a vinyl collection of her music or a poster of her. designer clothing, something extravagant and unique, tickets to their favorite musical or show.

Virgo moon: organized home planners, plants, cookbook, antiques, cleaning gadgets, home fragrances, books on getting organized and lifestyle advice, gift cards for home goods stores or their fav stores in general, maybe even get them a small pet to keep company!

Libra moon: designer handbags, books on fashion, good-quality perfumes, beauty items, fancy soaps, silk scarves or pajama sets, luxury brand shoes, fancy decorations for their living space

Scorpio moons: spiritual gifts, something personal from you, leather/ dark colored clothing, pampering gifts, marble items, brand sunglasses, ruled by Pluto; get them an elegant version of whatever they generally like; if they like gold jewelry, get them a carefully-selected box of fancy gold rings or something like that.

Sagittarius moons: gifts brought from a foreign country, something unique, plane tickets to a country they’ve always wanted to go to, travel picture book to record their journeys, good- quality camera, laptop, money, practical gifts

Capricorn moons: expensive things (I mean it’s a Capricorn moon here 💀), money in an envelope, gift cards to high-end stores, good chocolates, wine, and other specialty gourmet items, functional coffee machine, items to relieve stress (back-massager tool, etc), self-help books

Aquarius moons: technology, new phone, computer, Apple headphones, vintage record player, art materials, something no one else has, something related to their humanitarian or quirky interests, trivia games

Pisces moon: dream journal, thoughtful gifts, paintings, adult coloring books or stuff for arts and crafts, cute headphones, their favorite album and CD’s, something that encourages creativity, collection of bath salts and fragrances, meditation/yoga tools, locket necklace, fluffy blankets and pillows

Thank you for reading hope y’all have a good holiday! 🫶🎁🌟

°❆⛄⋆.ೃ࿔🦌*:･❄️ °❆⛄⋆.ೃ࿔🦌*:･❄️ °❆⛄⋆.ೃ࿔🦌

[stxrsniolo]

before i close my eyes for the night, i wanted to share this little piece of my heart with you; first and foremost, i hope your sturniolo friday was sprinkled with moments of happiness, but if it wasn't, please don't let it weigh you down.

we're all just human, and it's totally natural to sometimes get caught in the web of self-doubt. reflection and growth are good, but tearing yourself down? that's when it starts to chip away at your spirit, your energy, and even your well-being.

and if there's one thing i'll never stop whispering, whether to those close to my heart or even to those i've just crossed paths with, it's that every step you take, no matter how tiny it might seem, is a giant stride in your journey, just as significant as those big, bold leaps.

it's absolutely okay to say no.

it's beautiful to put yourself first. it's important to voice your thoughts and feelings.

it's lovely to eat when you're ready.

it's perfectly fine to stay under the covers when your soul needs a moment to rest.

and it's more than okay if you didn't ace that test (because, my friend, your value isn't measured by numbers on a page).

it's all part of being you, and that's okay.

take a deep, soothing breath, because tomorrow is another day, another chance to paint your life with new colors.

you've navigated through another week, and i am genuinely proud of you for that.

[franciscomaldo]

#SonyPictures adquiere película de #MargotRobbie y #CollinFarrell #ABigBoldBeautifulJourney √

En el mercado del EFM de Berlin, Sony Pictures ha cerrado un acuerdo de alrededor de 50 millones de dólares para el paquete de Margot Robbie (Barbie) y Colin Farrell (The Batman), A Big Bold Beautiful Journey, que es uno de los guiones más populares del mercado. Margot Robbie, Colin Farrell, Kogonada / Imagen cortesía Michael buckner/Deadline/Getty Images Los detalles de la trama están en…