#Denver Painting Company

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Exterior Painting Experts at Work

Exterior Painting Experts at Work https://elkhornpainting.com/exterior-painting-review-castle-rock-co/ The next article Exterior Painting Experts at Work is courtesy of Castle Rock Painting - Painting Castle Rock Read more on: www.elkhornpainting.com via House Painters Castle Rock CO - Feed https://elkhornpainting.com/ March 10, 2025 at 08:49AM

[dreampainting]

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Dream Painting LLC 450 Lincoln St Suite 101, Denver, CO 80203 (720) 731–2027

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[whocaresstillthelouvre]

See The Road You're On

Elks Chapter 1 Version 2.0

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Chapter Rating: T. (Nothing explicit for the first few chapters.) Chapter Summary: The man you've had a crush on since he showed up to Jackson just so happens to be your favorite student's caretaker.. and he just saw you do a brutal face plant in front of his home. Chapter Warnings: soft jackson joel, outbreak and quarantine zone memories, ellie has a smart mouth, anxious reader, mentions of blood and an injury from falling, everyone lives happily ever after, joel and ellie don’t leave jackson, early 2000’s indie rock Words: 5,500 Header courtesy of @saradika-graphics

Next Chapter

Masterlist Playlist “Caring Is Creepy” - The Shins

The world ended the day after you bought your homecoming dress. You begged your mom for it–a beautiful deep forest green sequined sweetheart a-line gown–the neckline perfectly showed off your prized gold daisy pendant. You felt like a princess, life couldn’t have been better. Your alarm buzzed on the morning of September 26, 2003, the only worry floating around your teenage head was the grade you’d receive on your essay about René Magritte for AP English. While walking home after a typical boring high school day with your guitar slung across your back and headphones on, little did you know you were hearing the final lyrics before everything changed:

“Hold your glass up, hold it in Never betray the way you’ve always known it is One day, I’ll be wondering how I got so old, just wondering how”

Twenty years later, hardened by life in the Denver Quarantine Zone and gently softened by your now comfortable life in Jackson, you’re still waiting for your first dance.

Art and music have always been at the forefront of your life; you’ve never allowed anything to take away your creativity. Continuing to create no matter how much pain the reality of losing everyone you’ve loved to the plague roaming the earth brought you. You create for yourself using art as a way to soothe your thoughts and anxieties, you create for the Settlement of Jackson to give back to the town that has given you a good life for the past five years, and most importantly you create for your students at the school you’ve taught at since your arrival. 

The fifteen years spent in the Denver QZ tried to steal your colors and mute your songs, joy became more difficult to find as each year behind the giant iron gates passed. The only sources of happiness were supplied by your small group of friends and your students in the desolate school you taught at. You never graduated high school, there was no pomp and circumstance, just a teaching job assigned to you because you were young and still remembered most of your high school education. That’s how your career was decided, funny how an apocalypse job search happens.

You tried to carve out as much of a life as you could under the overbearing and always watchful eyes of FEDRA soldiers, but it never felt whole. When the opportunity to leave Denver arrived thanks to your kind neighbor’s sister, you grabbed the few items you could and ran away from the only state you ever called home. Now, five years after your escape through the wasteland of the world to a better existence in Jackson, your life is now filled with art, music and purpose. Art supplied by the jars of paints you learned to make and what the patrollers bring you back. Music from the CD player in your house and the guitar you strum. Purpose from the weekdays spent teaching your impressionable students with actual well-rounded futures no longer doomed to become FEDRA fodder, along with the Saturdays spent working at the library you run out of your classroom. It's a good and comfortable life here, even if the nights are lonely and the only company you have in your small cottage are your cats Ripley and Penny. Some extra lonely nights, when the moon sits high atop the mountains, you can’t silence the thoughts that there’s nobody in your life who creates beautiful things for you. Too many nights you find yourself thinking about the man that lives down the street from you… Joel Miller. 

He’s so intimidating, handsome and caged off, akin to an art piece you’d pay admission to be able to stand near. Your own little museum piece you keep to yourself now that museums are obsolete. You’ve never seen anybody more gorgeous… not even in the faded celebrity magazines you cut up to make collages and art out of. Soft and full lips always hidden under a frowning mustache that rests below a large hooked nose. His dark brown eyes often focused forward, always looking in thought underneath furrowed brows. Wavy hair that matches his eye hue with soft silver streaks painted throughout. His body is strong and broad, often hidden underneath a tan flannel lined jacket. He’s tall and big–so big–somebody who has always been a protector. His hands are also large to match the rest of his features with thick fingers that sit capable and dexterous… you can tell they’re efficient for any task you ask of them. His skin is golden, born that way and bronzed by years spent outdoors. The precious pages of your notebook quickly deplete when you try to sketch and master the lines of his face. Maybe you could get the minute details if only you could stop being so afraid of the feelings he stirs inside of you.  

You’ve been enamored with him since he first showed up to Jackson– your life, and all of those feelings you’ve tried to avoid for years– upended by his presence. 

It was a normal day, like any other, when you walked into the Tipsy Bison to drop off some extra shoelaces and push pins for the community swap basket. Your eyes paused at the long communal table where your friends Maria and Tommy were seated with two strangers. A small teenage girl with a tight pony tail and a tattered sweatshirt was talking animatedly with her mouth full. You know kids well after all your years of teaching, you could already spot her tenacity across the room. Sitting next to her bent over a plate of food untamely clutching a fork was a man with a mess of graying hair and a permanent scowl plastered on his handsome face. You noted his strong jaw as he chewed his food, his eyes stared straight forward void of kindness, you wondered when the last time somebody created something beautiful for him. He was the most handsome man you’d ever seen– so intimidatingly sized even in his seated and hunched stature. You quickly flitted over to the corner where the communal basket sat and deposited your items before turning around to head back to your home when you noticed the handsome stranger looking right at you. His eyes darted away right as your eyes widened at his focus before you made your hasty retreat out of the tense room. That night you wrote a song about a once warm and inviting cabin sitting in the woods now cold and desolate with tattered floor boards and a cracked window.

The girl you saw at the Bison with the handsome stranger showed up in your class the next week. Ellie quickly became your favorite student thanks to her love of art and her smart mouth. She’s always so eager to learn in the mornings before heading out with the other older kids for patrol and community training. She doesn’t shut up about your handsome stranger, he’s Joel, Texas born and raised, he’s grumpy, and he loves coffee. He’s not her father, but he’s her protector, everything she tells you makes you think about him more. 

Sometimes you’ll see him walking down the road headed right towards you, a quick tuck of your head down or dash around the nearest corner helps alleviate the panic of being near him. One night you see him with Tommy at the Tipsy Bison in the corner drinking whiskey, your eyes stared unblinking before you realized how anyone could look over and see the way you’re ogling, you quickly created a reason to your friends why you needed to head home, to overwhelmed by his presence just a couple of rows down. Seeing him stirs up so many foreign emotions inside of you, but you like the rush. You like having your little crush, as long as you can keep your distance from him.

“Jeez, what were they thinking when they named these bands? The Shins? The Strokes? The Yeah Yeah Yeahs? Did every band just pick a random word and put The in front of it?” Ellie questions as she peruses your CD collection while you grade papers. With training for the older students canceled due to the winter snow outside, Ellie decided that you needed company in your classroom after school.

“Seems like it, doesn’t it?” you answer. “I’ll have to play them for you one day, those were some of my favorite bands when I was your age.”

“Really? Wicked! I’d love that!” she looks up from your CD book with an enthusiastic smile. You return her smile, happy for the bond the two of you share. “Joel loves music too, wonder if he’d like any of these.” Your pen pauses and your heart rate increases at the mention of his name, you feel foolish for the crush you have on your student’s “father.” 

“I’m sure there’s something in there for everyone,” you say, stacking your papers and capping your pen. “I think we should get going, before the sun sets, El. I’ll lock up.” 

“Aw man, there’s nothing to do at home,” she sighs. 

“Sorry kid,” you shrug. “I’m helping Helen at the Bison tonight and I need to eat dinner beforehand.” 

“Fiiiiiine, thanks for letting me hang with you, this was really fun,” she says as she grabs her backpack and jacket. “Bye Teach!”

Watching her leave, the thought plants in your head that she’s only a couple years younger than the age you were when the outbreak happened. 

The world thaws when winter turns to spring, the sun stays up longer allowing patrollers a better chance to scavenge and bring their finds back. The wish list posted above the communal basket in the Tipsy Bison is filled with requests. Residents ask for a broom, a TV input cable, a glue gun, crayons, and other utilitarian items to help make life easier. You think about writing down the one thing you wish for the most, a new CD player. Your prized possession finally spun its last song a couple days ago making your home fall silent without your constant companion of music. The irony isn’t lost on you that your just as ancient guitar now lays silent against the wall, the crack on the neck finally broke from overuse. You don’t write down your main wish, instead choosing to note that the school needs chalk and you need a new oven mitt. 

“Thought I told you not to touch my stereo kid,” the deep timbre of a Texas accented voice shocks you. Your heart begins to thud against your chest while goosebumps spread along your body; you’re frozen on the floor while you attempt to hide your internal panic. Joel is home. Of course he’s home, this is HIS home and you’re in it breaking HIS rules listening to your favorite mixed CD on HIS stereo system that’s much grander than your pitiful broken CD player. Why did you think letting YOUR STUDENT who’s half your age convince you this was a good idea?

“I know, relax! I’m being active in the community like you asked me to,” Ellie’s response drips with her unshakeable sarcasm. 

Your head turns to find his deep brown eyes boring right into you, he gives you a half smile as you stare back at him, mouth slightly agape. Joel Miller is in Joel Miller’s house with you. 

“This is the teacher I told you about, her stereo broke and I know how important music is to her–kinda like how it is to you. I invited her over so she could play me some of her stuff,” Ellie reasons. The kid is never not convincing. 

You quickly stuff your CD case into your backpack and stand, trying to escape the anxiety of being here in the cozy Miller household with the not-so-cozy-looking Mr. Miller. 

“Mm,” Joel grunts out before turning to you and reaching his hand out. “I‘m Joel.” His big hand envelops yours when you softly grab it to say hello. 

You nervously give him your name, trying to calm your panicked heart. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries... I-I really appreciate her offering to help me. My stereo broke a couple days ago and she knew it upset me.” You nervously stammer feeling like a thirteen year old in trouble again as you begin to fiddle with the gold daisy chain around your neck.

“Don’t worry about it,” he urges before looking at Ellie, “I can look past this if it means means you’re getting out of that damn garage.” 

Ellie rolls her eyes, you wonder if every conversation they have is Joel putting a rule down and Ellie breaking it. “She has way better music taste than you have old man. None of that twangy sad music you try to get me to listen to.”

You start to feel antsy as Joel crowds the small space around you. 

“I-I have to head out, I promised Helen I’d help her at the Tipsy Bison.” You’re not due for another hour but you can’t fathom the idea of being unwelcome in Joel’s house.

“Oh, okay. Well, you’re welcome back whenever you want… right Joel?” Ellie looks at him, angling her eyebrow, knowing she’s going to get the answer she wants from him. 

“Uh— of course. S’pose any friend of Ellie’s is welcome here,” Joel hesitates with a smile, his deep brown eyes crinkle in the corners. He’s ridiculously handsome this close, it’s staggering. 

“Thank you again Ellie, I’ll see you tomorrow, make sure you bring your notebook,” you say, turning to walk out the door. 

You rush home, hoping the distinct woodsy smell of Joel’s house on your clothes will linger for a while. You almost trip when you realize you’ve left your favorite mixed CD in Joel’s stereo.

Weeks pass, and the weather gets warmer. Spring is in the air, the trees are covered in bright green leaves, flowers bloom along the vast gardens of fruits and vegetables, everyone’s days turn longer with more tasks to accomplish. There’s always a hopeful breeze in the air for everyone, no longer bunkered down and locked away by the snowy weather. 

Your mixed CD is now a victim of your inability to be anywhere near Joel. Either Ellie decided to keep it for herself, or Joel's decided for you that you don't want it back, especially since you obviously crossed a line. In an odd way, it’s actually a nice feeling, kind of like old times when you'd forget a CD in your friend's car or in your locker over winter break.  It's not like you have anything to play it on, your house is still silent, save for the purring of your cats or whatever song you can remember to hum to yourself. 

It's a warmer day than usual, the sun shines bright and hot in the clear blue sky; all you can think about is getting home and taking a long bath after helping out at the community garden. Your hurried footsteps pitter patter against the warm asphalt in front of Joel’s house. Your heart always begins to race as it comes into view, once in a while you'll get to steal a glance of him leaving for patrol at the same time you're heading to school– those are good mornings. This sweltering afternoon you’ve certainly lucked out, he’s in his yard working on repairing a broken fence post. Your steps begin to slow as you see him set the hammer down, wipe the back of his hand across his sweaty brow, and stretch his back. Panic sets in at the realization he could look right over and see you in the state you’re currently in. You’ve been up to your knees in soil since school ended, watering and deadheading plants while letting the dirt on your skin bake in the warm sun. Your anxious steps pick up pace, failing to hop over the divot in the road you always remember to avoid. A trip and a fall ends with you landing hard on your stomach knocking the wind out of you. You can just make out the fall of heavy boot steps on the ground over the sound of your lungs gasping for air as you turn over.

“Whoa whoa whoa, you okay darlin’?” Joel asks. His broad body eclipses the bright sun when he bends over your body splayed out on the pavement. “S’alright, s’alright, breathe.” 

You lose even more breath at the sight of him. The sheen of sweat against his skin makes it glow bright. This is the first time you’ve seen him without a jacket or flannel, there’s a constellation of freckles on his neck you’ve never noticed. His biceps strain the fabric of his short sleeves when he reaches to put a comforting hand on your shoulder. You can’t tell if you’re still panicking from your fall or the stress of Joel seeing you as pathetic as you think you look. He called you darling and you feel like a fool. 

“I’m okay–I-I’m sorry…. I’m okay,” gasps out between breaths. You whimper from pain as you attempt to stand but it hurts far too much. 

“Hold on, hold on, there’s no need to rush, you took a mighty fall. Ya’ got a big cut on your knee, let me help you,” Joel’s eyes roam you under brows wrinkled with concern. 

“No, no, I’m okay really, I-I’m really okay,” you try to calmly assert, losing terribly against your rising embarrassment. 

“S’alright now, I have some peroxide and bandages in my house, Ellie’d kill me if she knew I left you injured,” he implores reaching his hand out. "I want to help you, come here."

“I– okay,” you grab his hand, his strong fingers wrap around yours, oh god he’s so warm, “I-I don’t want to bother you.”

“Now, I’ll have none ‘a that, come on,” he helps you stand steadying you with an arm around your waist, the adrenaline of being this close to him makes a bit of the pain fade, though the humiliation remains. 

He slowly leads you up his walkway, his hand lays splayed against your hip holding you tight. Your head rests against him close enough to feel the dampness of his sweaty shirt against your cheek.

He leads you into his house, the realization isn’t lost on you that this is now the second time you’ve been inside his home. Both times you’ve felt like an idiot. What is your luck?

You slowly sit down on his couch, Joel gently helps you settle against the cushions before placing a pillow behind your back for support. "You alright?” he asks, his voice drags heavily with concern. You nod, keeping your eyes focused on your bare legs, marred by dirt and gravel mixed with blood. “Just relax for a second, I’ll go grab everything." He retreats, his loud boot steps get fainter allowing you to take a deep breath and attempt to center yourself. 

The last time you were in Joel’s home you were far too anxious to focus on anything besides Ellie and the music coming out of the stereo. Solitude now allows a chance to look closely at Joel’s living room; for somebody with so many stories swirling around town about his gruffness and irritability, his home sure is warm and inviting. Wood carvings sit on shelves, a couple of tattered sports magazines lay on the coffee table, a chipped owl mug sits atop a book on the side table next to a chair. All of it presents quite domestic and comfortable for a single man and an adopted daughter in the apocalypse. Your eyes roam along the beige walls and pause when you spot a familiar painting hung near the front window. An elk stands alone, amongst a field of flowers, large antlers reach into the light blue sky. You painted it just a few months ago, using your favorite water colors. You gave it to Tommy for Christmas, as a thank you for always making sure you have first dibs of paints that patrollers bring in. Why does Joel have it?

“Don’t have any large bandages but I got a gauze roll,” Joel startles as he takes a seat atop the coffee table across from you. 

“That’s my painting? I painted that… for Tommy,” your inner thoughts escape your mouth, surprising you.

He turns and follows your eyes to the small piece of paper pinned on his wall. “You painted that? S’good. Saw it on my brother’s wall and asked him if I could have it, he was kinda reluctant but I told him how it reminds me of the painting I used to have over my bed before… everything.” The last word comes out as a huff, like he still doesn't know what word to use for these last twenty years.

“I love elks, they remind me of where I’m from… I’ve always liked painting the wildlife I grew up around the most,” your eyes remain focused on your painting. “Herds of elk used to live near my Dad’s home in the mountains, I used to hear their calls during the mating season.” 

“S’nice to remember those small moments, I guess your painting helps me,” he gently muses. 

“I’m glad,” you whisper.

Joel delicately lifts your leg up and places it on his lap, resting it against the soft strength of his thighs. Your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest when you look down at this intimate moment with your dream man. Your breaths escape your mouth in rapid succession, your only hope is Joel blames your panic on the threat of the peroxide and not his close proximity. 

“S’gonna sting,” he warns before pouring the clear liquid onto your knee. Your breath catches in your throat when it hits your sensitive skin and burns. You suppress a whimper and feel slightly dizzy at the sight of him bending forward and delicately blowing on your wound. His breath cools the heat of your burning skin but lights a fire inside of your body you haven’t felt in years.  He glances up, his dark brown eyes stay focused on your face. “Doin’ alright?” 

You nervously chew on your bottom lip and nod. “Y-yes, yeah,” you mumble, “I-I’m okay it just hurts a lot to move.” Heaven forbid you tell him the truth, that you’re acting this way because he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, and now his hands are on you.

"I know, that gravel is a sucker," he gently reassures, picking up your other leg and placing it on top of his lap. “S’bouta sting again,” he warns. 

You try to focus on the burn of the peroxide and not on Joel’s fingertips resting against the back of your knee. He blows on the peroxide as it bubbles again, your heart skips a beat when his deep brown eyes meet yours again. You get the sense that he knows exactly why you’re responding the way you are. 

He lifts a faded gray wash cloth up and wipes both of your knees with the utmost tenderness. He picks up the fabric bandage, and lifts your knee higher to rest your foot against his broad chest. 

“Place a finger here so I can wrap you,” Joel directs just as gently as his touch, “let me know if it’s too stiff for you.” His hand tightens around your knee as he slowly unravels the gauze around your leg and bandages your wound. “How’s that?” 

You bend your leg back and forth and place it on the floor. “Feels good, thanks.”

“Course,” he says, lifting your other leg higher to start. He smirks when you place your finger on top of the bandage without him asking, and begins to wrap the gauze around your other leg. 

“I’d try to take it easy the next few days, give you a chance to heal,” Joel utters, tucking the bandage in and smoothing it down. 

“I will. Thanks for all your help… you really didn’t have to,” your voice cracks in embarrassment. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Ellie’d kill me if she found out I left you hurt in front of my home,” he cracks a smile at the mention of her name. “She talks about you a lot, I should be thanking you for giving her a reason to love goin’ to school.”

“She’s one of the best parts of my day,” your smile matches his when you think about her smart mouth, “I love having her around, she’s always so eager to learn and give her opinion."

“She's always showing me some new art way she learned from you or talking about a band she wants to hear that you told her about. You mean a lot to her.”

“She’s a special kid.”

“She is,” he says, his deep brown eyes look into yours. You’ve never noticed just how much his dark eyes glisten. Like the perfect color of black coffee. 

The sweet shared moment turns more awkward as you both maintain eye contact and nod over your shared adoration of Ellie. It feels like he’s looking at you under a microscope.

You cut the tension and softly clear your throat before slowly rising from the couch. “Well, I should get going, I’ve already taken up enough of your time. I really appreciate everything.”

“S’no problem at all,” he quickly stands and places a steadying hand on your back before leading you to the door and down his walkway.

You spy his tools laying abandoned and strewn across the lawn. “I hope I didn’t keep you from finishing your fence,” you apologize.

“I’ll manage… take care of yourself,” his hand retreats from your back when he opens the gate for you. 

“Thanks Joel, you too.” You really shouldn’t have looked back at him to get one last glimpse, he’s beautiful, especially now lit by the slowly setting sun. 

Walking away from him as confidently as you can, you feel his eyes follow you the whole way. You’ve never been so thankful to see your little cottage, escaping behind the protection of your front door before you grin and grab your paints and brushes. That night you paint another photo of an elk, this time with golden toned fur and deep brown eyes. 

Saturday mornings are always busy, running your library never allows you the luxury to eat pancakes at the hall like everyone else on the weekends. You’re always turning to the left rushing towards the schoolhouse while everyone takes a right heading to eggs, pancakes, and coffee. This particular Saturday you’re moving slower thanks to your injured knees and the large box of books patrol brought you from their runs. 

“Mornin’," Joel shouts, quickly striding towards you from the hall exit. “Lemme take those for you.” 

“Oh, hi,” you pause in your tracks when he stops in front of you and grabs the box out of your hands. “You really don’t have to take–"

“None ‘a that,” he shushes, effortlessly lifting the box of books higher. "Where are we going with these?"

"Just over to the school house for the library," you nod your head towards the little brick building.

“How are the knees doing?” he asks, slowing his gait to match your slower pace.

“A lot better, thanks.”

“Glad to hear.” 

You fish the key out of your pocket, unlock the door, and let Joel follow you down the hallway to your classroom. You flick the lights on, fluorescent bulbs buzz illuminating your second home. 

You sit in your chair to rest your already aching knees, you’d still be halfway to the schoolhouse if it wasn’t for Joel’s kind assistance. 

“You can put the box on my desk,” you direct, rubbing your sore knee. 

He places the box on your desk before his eyes focus on the bright mural on the wall behind your desk. “Wow, I haven’t seen something like this in a long time. S’beautiful,” he breathes out incredulously. 

A grin lifts your tired face before you swivel in your chair to look at the mural. “Goodness, thank you. I just finished it a couple of weeks ago. I really wanted to make sure the kids had something fun and colorful to focus on while in class. It was hard for me to work in this plain, white room for so long. It took a long time to save up enough paint.” 

He slowly walks over and places his hand on the cold cinder block wall. “Bluebells. The flower of Texas,” he faintly whispers.

His large fingers trace the outlines of your painted indigo petals, you feel like you shouldn’t be allowed to see this type of gentle tenderness coming out of such hard and strong hands. He delicately touched you like this when he bandaged your knees. There was once softness surrounding all of Joel, the permanent grimace and rough reputation for him brought on by the harshness of existing in this world. 

He turns to you, keeping his hand on your mural. “Where you from?” he asks, curiously gazing into your eyes.

“I was in the Denver QZ.”

“No, where were you from before everything?”

“Oh, sorry. Still Colorado, just more in the mountains,” you say, concentrating on the columbine flower next to the bluebell. “Florissant to be exact. It’s a little town famous for dinosaurs. My students, especially Ellie, love to hear all about dinosaurs. I was very lucky to be where I was when everything–happened–just far enough to escape.”

“Nice state, I went skiing there once as a teen, had plans to go again before… everything,” he turns to look back at the bluebells again.

“Big of a Texan to compliment Colorado,” you jest, standing up and grabbing the library supplies from your desk.

He chuckles with a shake of his head. “Good one. Did y’know you forgot your CD at my house?” 

“I did, sorry about that. I figured Ellie just decided to keep it for herself. I don't mind, not like I have anything to play it on right now,” your voice drops thinking about how long it’s been since you’ve heard your favorite songs.

You begin to place down your hand painted placards on the tables. 

He walks over and picks one of the cards up and admires it. “Can I help you?”

“If you want, just pick up a pile of books and put them on their respective tables. Children’s, Mystery, Romance, Non-Fiction, Sci-Fi, Miscellaneous.” 

He dutifully picks up a stack of books. “You do this by yourself?”

“Usually, I sometimes have help but I think everyone here works so hard during the week they like their slow Saturdays, I can’t ask them to give up sleeping in.” 

“Sleeping in, must be nice. Can’t do such a thing. Ellie would sleep all day if I allowed her.”

“You’re right,” you say, squeezing by him to grab a pile of books. “Must be nice.”

He holds up a thick paperback with yellow pages and a burgundy cover, a muscled, orange toned man with long blonde hair holds a wispy brunette damsel. “I take it with a title like ‘Burning Tenderness’ it goes in romance?” Joel winks. You’d never imagine you would ever see someone like him joke.  

“Well, I’d fire you on the spot if you placed it in non-fiction.”

His bellowing laugh echoes across your classroom. You like hearing him laugh. 

The library is set up a half hour before opening thanks to yours and Joel’s expeditious work.

You take a seat on the edge of your desk to rest your knees.  “I’ve never gotten done this early before. Between your help earlier this week and today I feel like I owe you something. Is there any way I could repay you for your kindness?” 

He sighs, glancing back at your mural. “Those bluebells you painted,” he inhales a large breath, “do you think you could paint some of those for me in my house?” 

“Oh my, I’d love to,” your face lights with a smile. You can’t believe he’s asking this of you. “I can start it anytime.”

“D’you want to come over Monday after you’re done at the school? I told Ellie I’d spend the day with her tomorrow.” 

“That sounds great,” you reply, not believing your luck that Joel Miller is inviting you over to his house.

“Great. Should probably head out and start my day. Taking this as payment for my work today,” he says holding up a book.

“‘As I Lay Dying?’ Didn’t pin you as a Faulkner fan,” you muse, opening your logbook to note the title down.

“Liked the horse on the cover.” 

“You’re so Texas. It’s a good book, enjoy it Joel.”

“See you Monday. Good luck today.” 

“Yes, Monday,” you respond, trying not to smile too hard. “Thanks again for all your help.”

“Course,” he nods before walking out the door. 

Today’s going to be a great day, it already started out better than you ever could have hoped.

Back home after a busy day you sit in your favorite chair with your cats on your lap and sketch bluebells until you fall asleep with your pencil in hand.

See The Road You're On (Joel's Version)

[thunderfrommyheart]

breaking down the misinformation in @afronerdism post about me.

Debunked by Stuart Semple himself. 

I’ve taken the time to do this because nobody wants mis-information bouncing around the internet. 

The key thing to know - in the artworld rich people have access to processes and companies that most artists don’t. That’s how they get to create giant beans which cost $20million. At the top the rich get richer, and at the bottom artists struggle to make their mark with what they’ve got. 

Vantablack is an example of a group of rich, entitled people getting together to pat themselves on the back, whilst the rest of the world watched horrified at the tone-deafness of the whole thing.

it's also worth noting whilst OP is clearly educated and understands politics they are not in any way an expert in the artworld, art discourse. I however have been in the artworld for 25 years, have written for the guardian, art of england and vogue. I have presented art programs for the BBC and have a properly published book on art history - it's out in June called 'Make Art or Die Trying'. I have studied art and art history and spoken at Oxford University, The ICA, Denver Art Msueum, Dublin Art Museum and at Frieze. I have lectured at the Royal College of Art in London. I have curated over 20 contemporary art exhibitions internationally, I have directed two galleries. I am by definition an expert.

MY BREAKDOWN: OP is @afronerdism - I've gone below them point by point

A: What Vantablack is not: a pigment. A paint. Vantablack is not something that you were supposed to use to paint with. 

SS: CORRECT - However nor is glass, chrome, powder coating, sandblasting, booze casting, tar, concrete or steel yet they are used by artists everyday. 

Whether the material/process is a paint or pigment or not doesn’t matter. 

A: Who creates and distributes Vantablack: an engineering company named Surrey NanoSystems.

SS: True. And many artists work with engineering companies every day, notable examples are Jeff Koons and Damien Hirst. Lots of artists collaborate with industry to get their work made, that is what fabrication is.  You go to Surrey NanoSystems - not to buy paint but for them to coat your work in Vantablack. 

A: Who does not do those things: an art house. A distribution company. Any kind of company that creates and distributes pigments on a massive, artistic scale. 

SS: Which is totally true and fine. However they do coat things in Vantablack for a series of clients in many different industries including fashion designers, jewelers, brands, car companies, and watch companies. They will coat anything for anyone who has the money unless they are an artist. They only accept work from Anish Kapoor as he has an exclusive license with them for art. 

A: Who was Vantablack made for: Vanta Black was made by aerospace engineers for aerospace engineers, looking for something to coat the insides of massive NASA telescopes. 

SS: Initially, but quickly was used by a lot of other industries including architects, fashion designers, bands, brands, car companies and even a deodorant. 

They are able to make it in quantities large enough to coat whole buildings as we saw when architect Asif Khan used it to coat a whole pavilion during the Pyeongchang Winter Olympic Games. 

(If had told Surrey nanoSytems he was an artist - not an architect, this would never have happened)

A: Who it was not made for: artists.

SS: Except the one with the license. (Anish Kapoor)

———————————-——————————————

A: Hopefully already just by understanding what Vantablack is, what it was made for, and who it’s made by you and other people are beginning to see what the problem is with Stuart simples narrative around Vanta black. 

SS: It’s Semple not simple. 

SS: The narrative was not created by Semple as for a few months before he shared his pink the world media was criticizing Kapoor for his Monopoly with major articles in the Guardian, Daily Mail, and BBC news. Each featured reactions from a broad spectrum of artists who spoke about the unnecessary license and the elitism in the artworld. 

A:  But you may be wondering if Vanta black is a highly toxic unstable substance made out of carbon nano tubes by aerospace engineers for aerospace engineers, working in space, then how did we get here? well, Vanta, black 2.0, if you will was created in such a way that it could be sprayed onto substances in a certain way meaning that theoretically it could be used artistically.

SS: Yes VBX2 can be sprayed, and Surrey Nanosystems have training days where they teach in-house teams how to do that. The VBX2, however, arrived quite late in the story and Kapoor’s rights started with the first version. 

A: Surround nanosystems held an exhibition where they displayed Vanta black and when artist saw this, they were inundated with calls from artist, wanting to use it in their work. 

SS:

Surrey nano systems (not surround)

They actually debut it at an airshow in England, it was all over the world media, many artists saw it. They then went on a massive PR mission and the material was seen on CNN etc. 

Kapoor became aware of it and approached them to see if he could use it in his work. 

Together they struck up an exclusive deal which would mean if any artist asked them to coat a piece of work with the stuff they would be turned away. 

That deal was something Surrey and Kapoor were initially proud of. They couldn’t see the inherent elitism in the exclusivity so they went on another PR pr to tell he world Kapoor was signed up to use it. 

It was then the artists of the world really became aware of it, and sure enough, when any of them wrote to Surrey - even really huge ones with plenty of money, they were turned away. These artists including Christian Furr and Ron Arad, amongst others were all featured across the media. =

A: But as we’ve already established surrey nanosystems is not a distribution company. They’re an engineering company. And they made the decision that they could only work with one artist, because they simply did not have the physical ability to produce Vantablack at a scale that allowed them to work with more than one person. 

SS: They did say that, but a lot later. They were always a fabrication / engineering place and there was never an idea that they would distribute the material. That’s not the problem any artists ever had with it, they all fully understood what the material was. The issue was that even if the artist had the money and could ship their work to Surrey, they would not coat the object with it, but they would serve other industries. This is seen as deeply prejudicial towards artists. 

A: (To this day, vanta Black has to be distributed by a specialized robotic arm that creates it in painfully small amounts in an enclosed box that can then be given to someone in a lab. ) 

SS: This is untrue - the arm is used to spray the objects that Surrey have agreed to coat. 

It does not make the material. The material is made by growing carbon nano tubes on a surface. 

And the spray version contains nano particles. The robot arm is used for precision when coating. 

You often see a robot arm spray cars for example. The arm is used like this. 

A: Enter Anish Kapoor: Anish Kapoor, at this time was already a world, renowned artist, and the creator of many public facing pieces, such as cloud gate, a.k.a. the Chicago Bean. His entire life‘s work was dedicated to how light is refracted and interplays with the void, making him not only the perfect person to be chosen because of prestige but also because his life‘s work spoke to the engineers who created Vanta black.

SS: Whist as an artist he has dealt with reflection and the void at length, it’s a stretch to claim his entire life’s work is dedicated to it. 

SS: It is true that as a figurehead for Vantablack he is a good choice, he’s very rich, extremely famous, he’s a Sir (i.e knighted by the queen and a turner prize winner). Plus he makes work that would look good in Vantablack. 

SS: None of this means that he needed exclusivity to do it, the company could simply have collaborated with him and if any other artist asked to have something coated, they could have easily said they were too busy or didn’t have enough of the material. 

SS: The issue is the way they couldn’t see the prejudice, elitism and lack of access in the exclusivity. 

A: Now this should’ve been seen as an incredible accomplishment and honor for this Indian artist to be chosen as the soul licensor of Vantablack as this company was only able to choose one person and people were really excited about this for him and that’s where the story ends, right? Right? Right? 

SS: It’s unclear why his race matters. He is one of the richest, most well known, most famous artists in the world. The fact he has exclusive access to a material/process like this is not a reason for people to be excited for him, people are free to be excited or not. This is purely your opinion not a fact. 

A: Enter Stuart Semple: Stuart simple was a 25-year-old man in the UK living with his mother when she came into his room and told him about Vantablack. 

SS: Stuart was born in 1980, which would make him 36 at the time. 

SS: He was not living with his mother, in fact he was living in London with his own family. 

SS: His mother did not come into his room however on a phone call she spoke to him about an article she had read in the guardian about how artists were upset by Kapoor having Vantablack. 

SS: Stuart was (and is) a well-known contemporary artist, very embedded int hat world. He has had over 20 solo exhibitions dedicated to his work all over the world and his pieces are in major collections and museums. He’s not in the league of Kapoor but in the artworld is well known as an artist. 

A: As an artist himself, Stewart simple wanted to try Vanta Black, and was told by the company that he could not.

SS: This is untrue - Stuart did not want to use the colour, nor did he approach the company. 

A:  It was then that he discovered the only person on earth licensed to use Vantablack was Anish Kapoor. 

SS: This is untrue, he was aware of this when his mother told him what she had read in the newspaper. 

A: Please keep in mind that Vantablack is not a paint, and it is so difficult to work with that Anish Kapoor has only ever produced one singular piece of art with Vantablack. 

SS: This is untrue. Tens of thousands of items have now been coated in VantaBlack, from soda cans to watches. Initially, Kapoor used his rights to create a series of limited edition wrist watches that sold for $100,000 each, and then went on to create a whole series of large sculptures that were initially shown at a huge palazzo in Venice that Kapoor bought, during the Venice Biennale, and then at an exhibition at the Lisson in NYC where there works were for sale with an average price of $500,000USD.

A: So like a child who has just been told by their mom that they can’t use something, Stewart simple decided to throw a hissy fit. 

SS: It’s Stuart Semple (not stewart simple) - and there is no evidence of any kind of Hissy Fit. However he did create a piece of internet performance art, where he put a jar of pinkest pink paint on the internet, humorously, and asked anyone who bought the paint to sign an agreement that they ‘weren’t Anish Kapoor and Associate of Kapoor and that to the best of their knowledge information and belief, the material would not make its way into the hands of Anish Kapoor’. Semple has always explained it was a tongue-in-cheek piece of performance art, and that he was never expecting anyone would actually buy any pink. The best source for this is an article in Wired in which the journalist concludes with the piece being a powerful piece of online performance art. Bearing in mind Semple is an artist who works with performance, that is extremely likely. 

A: He created a pink pigment that he conditionally said everyone could use except Anish Kapoor and then launch this pigment with the hashtag #ShareTheBlack. 

SS: He created the pink pigment in 2010 - and has made his own paints to use in his own work since he was a child. It was not made in response to Kapoor. However he did not make them public they were for his own use, and the Kapoor situation made him question his own exclusivity in keeping the materials he was making for himself. He decided to share his pink as a gesture and a piece of art in it's own right.

A: This caught the attention of the news media, and when asked about this situation, that was previously relatively unheard of, Stuart simple,

SS: Neither Stuart nor the Vantablack situation were unheard of. The media was already reporting on the controversy around vantablack long before Stuart put the pink up. Stuart was also well known which is why the media wanted to talk to him about it. 

When GQ came to do a 5 page feature on him they were clear it was because he was an established and well-known artist in his own right. 

He had already been hosting art shows for the BBC, had written for the guardian and Huffington post and had collaborated with major musicians. 

A: went onto describe Anish Kapoor as this tyrannical elitist who “banned“ the use of Vantablack to keep other artists from using it. 

SS: There’s no evidence that Semple said that, however, he was critical of the exclusive license and did feel the story opened up a well-needed discussion about access to art and the trend in which those with the money could afford to have works fabricated when others couldn’t. He is at heart an egalitarian and has made free art studios, his Designs for humanity charity, his creative therapies fund at Mind (a mental health charity) etc.. and a major free art gallery in his hometown that shows some of the biggest living artists. So Semple’s opinion is allowed, to him Kapoor epitomizes an elitism that is dominated by the super-rich, after all, Kapoor is getting close to being a billionaire. 

A: But hopefully you can already see how that is Literally not true. Anish Kapoor does not make Vanta black. Anish Kapoor cannot sell Vanta black. Anish Kapoor cannot give you permission to use Vanta black. And Vanta black is not even a paint. 

SS: He does not make it, but he does hold the exclusive right to use it in art. 

SS: No other material or process has been exclusively licensed by one artist in the history of the world. 

SS: Jeff Koons does not make his own giant steel sculptures, a factory does. Jeff can’t book your work into the factory, and steel is not a paint either. He doesn't have an exclusive agreement with the steel fabricators. If they aren't too busy with Jeff, and you've got the cash, they'll make something for you too. This is standard with art fabrication.

SS: I didn't physically make the giant steel and foam smiley sculpture of mine for the city of Denver, fabricators helped with that, and engineers. They work with several artists.

SS: This makes no sense given it is understood vantablack is a material and a process of application. 

SS: However Kapoor could surrender his exclusive right and Surrey would then be able to take bookings from artists. 

A: meanwhile Stuart has launched an entire very lucrative career around slandering and smearing Anish Kapoor 

SS: Untrue, Semple had a very successful career and his day job is as a contemporary artist. Actually speaking up about elitism in the artworld is a risky move for someone who relies on that artworld to pay his bills. 

A: when Anish Kapoor literally never did anything but be qualified enough to be the one person chosen by a company that is literally only able to work with one person at a time. 

SS: He did do something, he signed an exclusive agreement and he felt he was entirely justified in doing so. He also went out in the media and with surrey nono systems and gloated about it.

SS: They can’t only work with one person at a time, we have seen whole buildings covered in vantback, jewellery, cars and soda cans and many sculptures by Kapoor. Surrey have collaborated with thousands of brands, designers, architects and companies. 

A: The fact remains Stewart simple, very intentionally allows this narrative to continue because it makes him money. 

SS: It is unclear how it makes him money as the pink was sold for $3 which was what it cost to make, and his website which researches and distributes cutting edge materials is a non profit that collaborates with artists. They even did a crowd funder to make Black 3.0 - a super black acrylic that any artist can use. It's also unclear how he is perpetuating this narrative, when he's clearly moved on to other projects many years ago and rarely mentions it. In Semple's world it's a very small thing.

A: He has made a ton of money off of slandering Anish Kapoor as if Anish Kapoor is the reason he can’t use Vanta black when the reason he can’t use Vanta black is because no one can use Vanta black, and the only person who might be able to use it is Anish Kapoor and that is not Anish Kapoor‘s fault. 

SS: There’s no evidence at all that he’s slandered Kapoor. Kapoor being extremely wealthy, and the level of media that covered the story back in 2016 would never have allowed it. It would have been a legal nightmare. All the publications who write about the story GQ, BBC, The Guardian, Wired, have journalistic laws and it would not have happened. 

SS: There’s no evidence that Semple has made a ton of money. 

A: It is not lost on me that there are racial connotations to the story as well. There are actual companies and artists in the world who have trademarks around certain colors that they do not allow other people to use in public showcases. 

SS: There are colour marks or if you like 'trademarked colours'. The public showcases point doesn't make sense in this context - colours are protected in classes i.e certain uses on Serbian products are prohibited. EG - Tiffany blue cannot be used on jewellery boxes. 

A: But we really as a community allowed this white man to smear and slander an Indian artist,

SS: Again it’s unclear what the ethnicity of the artists has to do with the core issue. 

SS: It’s a little bit of a leap given Semple has also liberated Klein Blue (made by a white French man), Barbie Pink (owned by Mattel a corporation), and created the Brightest White. 

 A: based entirely off of misinformation, and to this day people jump on the Internet, saying fuck Anish Kapoor because of it. 

SS: Kapoor secured the rights to the blackest material ever made. Everyone else who can afford to, can use it, unless they identify as an artist. 

SS: Many people feel like that is wrong. 

A: Now, Anish Kapoor is not some struggling person. He is probably a multibajillionaire 

SS: He’s worth about 800 million according to Forbes, he’s within the top 5 most wealthy living artists.

A: And doesn’t necessarily need our sympathy. But I think the story of Vantablack is a really good case study of how misinformation spreads, and how people never bother to question the framework of a story. 

SS: In my opinion, your post is misinformation, that has been spread unquestioningly. 

[losfacedevil]

For You // J.M.K

a/n~ So uh, this got a little out of hand.. okay maybe a lot out of hand. This is my first ~real Josh fic. @indigofallingsky don’t dieee

MINORS DNI 18+ WARNINGS: SMUT, STRIP TEASE, ORAL (F RECEIVING), UNPROTECTED PENETRATIVE SEX (Don’t be silly, wrap your willy) Word Count 5.8k+

The rain pelted down on the roof, the pitter patter of the droplets lulling them into a sense of much needed calm. She curled up on the couch with her nose stuck in her most current read; some book about pirates Jake had insisted she read. Josh sat at his desk, one resembling that of a school desk which sat directly in front of the big bay window; working on something that called for every last ounce of his attention. 

She couldn’t help but watch him, the pure concentration etched in his features as his eyes stayed glued to the page as her attention span began to falter, letting her head rest against the back of the couch as the sounds of the rain relaxed her further; eyes fluttering shut as she pulled a deep breath in through her nose. The only other sounds dancing through the air being the soft melody of the John Denver vinyl he had spinning and that of his pens and markers gliding smoothly across the page of his journal. 

They craved quality time together, time spent doing their own thing while in each others company. Something they both yearned so deeply for when he was on the road living his dream with his brothers. 

Josh shifted in his chair, his gaze falling upon her face, her features cloaked with a serene look. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, watching as her chest rose and fell softly wondering if she had maybe fallen asleep. But his eyes fluttered away from her as she pulled her head up off of the couch, stifling a yawn before going back to her book. 

He kept glancing her way, making sure she stayed where she sat while he worked on something so precious to him. Etched across the page were the beginnings of a ring setting; choosing silver instead of the traditional gold as his mind reeled with ideas for different stones to place in it. 

Diamonds were too typical and not ‘a girls best friend’ she had once told him, opting for an opal in a ring she purchased for herself. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he sketched out the cut in which he wanted the stone to be as a crystal popped into his mind. Moss agate; ‘it’s my favorite!’ she had exclaimed, showing him the raw cut stone wrapped in delicate gold wiring that hung around her neck. 

Josh put so much thought into the ring, knew exactly how he wanted it to look as he continued his sketch; his eyes never leaving the page. He could see her fidgeting in her seat from the corner of his eye, trying to keep his focus on both her and the journal page he so lovingly created upon. 

“Hey Gorgeous?” She called, peeling her eyes away from the book she was reading. 

“Hmm?” His response came from deep in his chest, clear his concentration was elsewhere as his eyes snapped to the pile of markers in front of him. He sifted through them, eyes finding hers as he picked up the color he was looking for. 

A soft smile spread across her face as she watched him uncap the marker, pressing it to the page of his journal. She stayed quiet as he painted color across the page, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. A yawn slipped past his lips as he discarded the marker, picking up his favorite fine liner pen instead; quickly jotting something in the margin of the page. 

“You called?” His voice was soft, eyes meeting hers once more as a soft smile caressed his lips. 

“What are you feeling for dinner? I want something warm and filling.” The smile never fell from her face, waiting for him to realize. Josh shrugged his shoulders, turning his attention back to his journal. 

“Whatever you want is fine as long as I get to pick the movie tonight.” His gaze landing on hers as he cocked his head to the side. 

“Do I have something on my face?” He chuckled, pulling his fingers down his cheeks and giving a gentle tug to his beard. 

“I said ‘Hey Gorgeous.’” She repeated, smile growing wider as realization washed over his features. A soft pink hue kissing the apples of his cheeks as he averted his gaze. 

A giggle danced up her throat as she placed her book mark in her book, tossing it to the side to be forgotten about. Watching as multiple emotions washed over his face, finally settling on the shyest smile; his top teeth coming down to worry  his bottom lip. 

“You did, didn’t you?” He kept his voice low, his lowest register shining through as his eyes snapped to hers. The shy smile that caressed his lips pulling into a full smile that nearly reached his eyes. The pink hue gracing his cheeks turning a brighter shade of red as the tips of his ears began to burn.

“C’mere, gorgeous.” Her tone was light and flirty as she held her hands out in his direction, grasping her fingers to her palms in a grabby hands motion. A nervous giggle escaped him as he reached up, covering his face with his hands. Another giggle bubbling up his throat as he raked a hand down his face, pulling his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger. 

“Why do you do these things to me, sweetness?” He crooned, carefully closing his journal as he pushed himself to stand from the table. A proud smile played across her lips as she stood, meeting him halfway across the room. 

“I’ve done nothing to you.” She giggled, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck as his hands found her hips, thumbs sneaking up underneath the hem of her shirt. He rubbed the tip of his nose up and down her cheek gently before pressing his forehead to hers. A breathy giggle escaped her at the lingering tickle his nose left on her cheek. 

She focused her eyes the best she could on his, extending her fingers so they twisted in the curls at the nape of his neck. His eyes fluttered shut at the slight tension she was causing, pulling his hair lightly as she carded her fingers through it. He let his head fall to her shoulder, her fingers swiftly slipping from his hair as he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist; pulling her body flush with his. 

A soft smile caressed her lips as he started to sway, his grip tightening on her as she began tracing light designs across the back of his neck. His breath caught in his throat as she toyed with his ear, a soft chuckle emanating from his chest as he placed a soft kiss to her neck. She couldn’t hide the shiver that danced up her spine or the giggle that escaped her as he lifted his head.

“For you, for the rest of my life; for you, all the best of my life; for you alone, only for you.” Josh sang along to the song playing softly in the background. He reached his hand up, cupping her cheek as she beamed up at him, nuzzling her cheek against his palm. Lifting up onto her toes slightly, she pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips giggling as he tried to chase her lips. 

“I mean if calling you gorgeous gets me slow dances and serenades I might just have to do it more often.” She teased, pulling her hands around to cup his now pink cheeks. Her thumbs danced over the apples of his cheeks as he rolled his eyes, wide smile tugging up the corners of his lips. 

“Stop it.” He chuckled, leaning down to slot his nose next to hers, rubbing them together gently before capturing her lips in a gentle kiss. He began swaying again, gently guiding her around the living room as she slipped her arms back around his neck. Josh rested his head against her shoulder, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he continued to hum along to the song. 

She reveled in vibrations his humming sent through her shoulder blade, the way  his arms felt wrapped around her waist, how the hair that kissed his upper lip tickled the exposed skin of her shoulder slightly as his hot breath fanned across her neck. How his fingers slipped just slightly under the hem of her shirt rubbing gentle circles into her skin as he pulled her as close to his body as he possibly could. She let her fingers dance through his hair, carding them through the curls mindlessly as they continued to slow dance around their living room. 

His grip on her loosened as the vinyl they had spinning ended, the sound of the rain still pelting against the roof and windows the only noise that surrounded them. Josh continued to gently spin her in circles, slipping his hand up under her shirt as he spread his fingers across the expanse of her back. A dopey grin played on his lips as he lifted his head from her shoulder, his eyes displaying a tired serene look.

“Am I boring you, my love?” She cooed, her hands finding his cheeks once more. His smile widened as his eyes fluttered shut, nuzzling his cheek against her palm. He danced his other hand up her side, gently gripping the back of her neck, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose and dipped her in one swift motion. Giggles erupted from her chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Joshua!” She scolded as he pulled her upright, belly laughs escaping him. He leaned forward capturing her lips in a sweet kiss, keeping his hand on her neck as his fingers inched upwards into the hair at her nape. 

She relaxed into the kiss, her body finally shaking the shock his dip had caused. Her fingers snaking up into the curls on the back of his head, holding him to her as he deepened the kiss; his tongue running gently along her bottom lip. 

An involuntary giggle bubbled up in her chest as their teeth clashed together gently, causing him to pull back and break the kiss. A soft whine emanated from her chest at the loss of contact; quickly catching in her throat as he dipped his head and pressed gentle open mouthed kisses to her neck; the softest moan escaping her throat. 

“Gorgeous,” the word meant to be a protest rolled off her tongue in a hiss; further fueling the fire that erupted in his stomach as he nipped at the already tender skin of her neck. 

“The question at hand was what’s for dinner.” Her words slurring as her mind clouded over, tilting her head slightly as he continued his attack on her neck. He tangled his fingers in her hair tugging lightly and earning himself a whimper from her. The sound low and drawn out as he smoothed his tongue over the skin of her neck, a light purple mark already blooming under the red, tender skin.

“Keep calling me that and the answers gonna be you.” He mumbled, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of her shoulder. He reveled in the way her breathing quickened slightly as a shiver danced up her spine. She pulled her arms back, resting her hands on his chest before pushing him back far enough that their eyes met, brow raised as she took in his appearance. 

His cheeks were flushed the most beautiful shade of pink, lips a darker shade of red and fully kiss swollen, pupils blown out fully enveloping his honey brown irises as he kept his eyes locked on hers. She couldn’t help but run her fingers back through the mess of curls that sat atop his head, his eyes rolling back as she gently tugged his hair at the roots. 

A devilish smirk played across her lips as she scratched at his scalp, a deep sigh slipping through his nose as he leaned his head back against her fingertips. She took advantage of having the upper hand, maneuvering his head with his hair as she leaned up on her toes and began pressing soft kisses to his jawline. 

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, his breath catching in his chest as she nipped lightly at the hollow beneath his ear. She ran her tongue up the length of his ear, sending a shiver down his spine as her teeth closed around his earlobe, nibbling lovingly. 

“Gorgeous.” Her voice was barely a whisper. His hips bucked forward involuntarily, eliciting a nervous chuckle from his chest as a smile pulled at the corners of her lips. She let her free hand snake between their bodies, gently pressing her palm to his erection, resting painfully against his left thigh. 

“What did I say, sweetness?” His voice held a sultry tone as his hands found her hips, pulling her fully flush against him; trapping her hand between their bodies.  She stroked her fingers over his length the best she could as her eyes met his; a warning look to proceed with caution spreading across his features. 

“I’m not doing anything.” She mumbled, averting her gaze from his face. He chuckled lowly, reaching a hand up to grasp her chin. He pulled her head in his direction, watching as her eyes fluttered shut; a mischievous giggle bubbling up from her chest as a smile tugged at her lips. 

“What was that, baby?” He mumbled, peppering kisses across her cheeks. Soft giggles escaped her as she broke from his grasp, making her way over to the record player, carefully placing the arm onto the record. A groan escaped him as he adjusted the way he was positioned, turning on his heel. 

“You left me.” He whined, closing the distance between them. Shaking his arms around her middle as he hooked his chin over her shoulder. She leaned her head back against his shoulder, squishing her cheek against his. 

“The quiet was driving me mad.” She giggled, her eyes fluttering shut as the soft tune of John Denver began dancing through the air once more. Josh chuckled, turning his head to press a soft kiss to her cheek as he began to sway their bodies to the music. 

“If you wanted me to keep singing to you, you should have just asked.” Her hands rested against his, intertwining their fingers together as he tugged and gently spun her around to face him. She let her arms snake around his midsection, his coming to rest on her shoulders as he began singing along to ‘Higher Ground’

“Maybe it's just the freedom that I've found

Given the possibility, of living up to the dream in me, you know I'll be reaching for higher ground.” 

A soft smile caressed her lips as she leaned her head back, resting her chin against his sternum. He looked at her down his nose, tilting his head just enough to press a soft kiss to her forehead. His arms slid down hers, his hands resting just above her ass as he began swaying them to the soft tunes. 

“What is higher ground, hm?” She questioned, her eyes finally meeting his as she slid her hands up under the hem of his shirt. His gaze wandered, falling on the bay window to his right, watching as the droplets of water raced each other. His shoulders raised in a soft shrug, absentmindedly leaning down to press a second kiss to her forehead. Her eyes fluttered shut at the contact, scratching her nails over the expanse of his lower back. His body shook gently as a shiver danced up his spine. 

“I mean we have everything with the band that we never thought we’d have, like one minute we’re playing in a garage the next we’re playing Madison Square and I don’t understand how the hell that all happened.” A smile spread across her face, reveling in the feeling of his muscles dancing over her as his hands moved theatrically behind her while he spoke. 

“And you. You changed my perspective on everything. It was almost like the fear of domestication completely melted away and my natural instincts took over. I’ve never felt this way before, like sure I’d admire the boys with their partners but I never saw a partner in my future let alone the near future. And now? Now I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you; y’know picket fence, maybe a rose garden, put a baby in you, everything that comes with loving someone with their whole being.” 

His shoulders raised in another shrug, hands dancing through the air behind her back as he spoke, something she loved about him. Her eyes stayed glued to his, a glint of something he couldn’t put his fingers on playing through them.

“What?” He giggled, the sound high pitched and painful in her ears. A wince crossed her features, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth as she pulled her nails sharply across his back. A sheepish grin spread across his face, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to the tip of her nose as a mumbled ‘sorry’ slipped past his lips.  

“What was that last part?” She asked, cocking her head to the side as his eyes wandered. 

“Hmm, a picket fence?” His smile grew broader, breaking from her grasp. Tilting her head to the opposite side she giggled, the smile never leaving her face. 

“No, the other last part.” The anticipatory giggle that slipped past her caused a soft blush to bloom across his cheeks. Bringing his hand to his face he tapped his finger against his pursed lips. 

“Ohhh, you mean the rose garden? I think my mom would be a big help with that. She loves her rose bushes.” A mischievous grin spread across his face, his tone dripping with excitement as she began tapping her foot against the floor. 

“Though a rose garden would be nice it wouldn’t cause you to be all flustered. Wanna try again, gorgeous? I’ve heard the third times the charm.” 

Josh’s eyes rolled back, his lids fluttering shut as he took a step towards her, hoping she’d close the distance between them. His cock twitched in his pants, the mere thought of having to repeat a secret he never should have shared excited him. Pulling in a deep breath through his nose he took another step towards her, holding his arms out in front of him beckoning her towards him. 

“I said, Iwannaputababyinyou.” he rushed the sentence out as quickly as he could, cheeks turning the brightest shade of red she’d ever seen his face turn. With her bottom lip nestled between her teeth she closed the distance, wrapping her arms around his neck as his enclosed around her middle; tugging her closer before his hands quickly found purchase on her hips and held her flush against him. 

“Put a baby in me then, Kiszka.” She challenged, toying with the delicate gold hoop he had pierced through his ear lobe, shivers dancing down his spine at both the gentle contact and the words that slipped past her lips. 

“Oh yeah?” Josh bent at the waist, sliding his hands down around her thighs hoisting her up as he stood to his full height. Giggles escaped her as she wrapped her legs around him, keeping herself securely in place as he padded down the hallway towards the bedroom. She let her head fall to his shoulder, pressing soft opened mouth kisses to his neck as his pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, collecting himself as he kicked the slightly ajar bedroom door fully open. 

“Strip.” The command slipped past his lips a bit harsher than he intended it to, smacking his hands against her ass - a bit of contact he knew drove her crazy - as she quickly unraveled herself from him, sliding her legs to the floor. Her hands found his chest, pushing him back lightly while she bent at the waist slightly, shimmying her shoulders. His eyes were lidded, wringing his hands out in front of him as he watched her movements. 

They were calculated movements, dragging her hands up her sides painstakingly slow as she cupped her breasts, a breathy giggle escaping her as his head fell back slightly. Her hands danced back down her sides as she straightened her back out, crossing at her waist as she lifted the bottom of her shirt just enough for a sliver of skin to peek through. Josh took another step back raking his eyes over her figure as his mind caught up with his body, she was going to drag this out for as long as possible. 

She saw the glint in his eye, the way his gaze changed from flirty and mischievous to  lust and hunger filled. His hands balled into fists at his sides as she rid her shirt - not before slowing peeling it up off of her torso, a high pitched giggle escaping her as her face lit up. He shook his head, bottom lip nestled tightly between his teeth as he unraveled a fist, gently palming at his erection through his pants. 

“Aht, aht, that’s my job.” She cooed, pulling the straps of her bra off of her shoulders, letting the cups fall loosely around her breasts. A pout formed on his lips as he moved his hand back by his side curling it back into a fist as he watched her unclasp her bra and toss it to the floor. 

“Good boy.” The small slip of praise had his breath catching in his throat, swallowing down a moan that bubbled up in his chest quickly. His eyes rolled back, nails digging into his palms as he tried to compose himself. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her.

She turned her back to him, shaking her ass as she shot an innocent smile over her shoulder. Slipping his hands in his pockets with a shake of his head he stepped closer to her, rutting his hips forward against her. Bent slightly she rubbed her ass against him, nothing but a tease as she slowly unbuttoned her jeans. 

“You go any slower I may be so inclined as to rip these jeans off of you; and I’d hate to be the one to ruin your favorite jeans.” Josh cooed, hooking his chin over her shoulder pressed cheek to cheek. A mischievous giggle escaped her, rolling her hips back as she wiggled out of her jeans. Josh groaned as her bare ass filled his line of sight, losing the battle within himself as he slid his hands out of his pockets gripping both of her ass cheeks hard enough to leave bruises. 

She gasped,  a breathy giggle escaping her as he kneaded her ass, his fingers digging into the flesh causing a satisfying pain. His mouth was on her neck, wet kisses sprinkling the surface as he ground his clothed erection into her, the softest moan slipping past his lips. 

“No panties? You left the house without panties? Naughty girl.” He growled out, snaking his hand around her hip as he slowly danced it towards her core, the one place he knew she wanted him the most. His fingers danced across her thigh, his nails trailing red marks as he scratched his way down the junction of her hip. A satisfied hiss slipping past her lips as his finger brushed gently against her clit. 

A low chuckle slipped past Josh’s lips as he slid his fingers between her folds, biting down on her shoulder as he collected her wetness on his fingers. Her back arched slightly, pushing her ass harder against his dick as he began slowly swirling the pad of his middle finger around her clit. A shuddering breath shook her shoulders as she leaned forward, resting her hands against the bed. 

He withdrew his hand, straightening his back as he brought his right hand down against her ass in a sickening crack. A loud gasp escaped her as she collapsed forward into the bed. He soothed his hand over the already reddening mark, a chuckle bubbling up his throat. 

“Get up there.” He mumbled, a gentle tap delivered to each cheek as she pulled her knees up onto the bed. Josh took a step back, fully admiring the view as he quickly stripped his own clothes off. She slowly made her way to the top of the bed, throwing herself onto her back in a full dramatic show; throwing her arm over her eyes as she let her legs fall open.

A low whistle slipped past his parted lips, reaching down to envelope his dick in his hand stroking it lazily a few times before settling on the bed between her legs. He placed hot opened mouth kisses against her inner thigh, hooking his arms up under her thighs as his gaze focused on her. A stream of cool air flitting across her clit, her back arching slightly as he pressed a feather light kiss to her clit.

She forced her eyes open, gaze landing on him as he studied her. His eyes glued to her core as a smug little smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. His eyes snapped up to hers, watching her intently as he pressed forward flattening his tongue against her and licked a stripe up her, flicking the tip of his tongue against her clit.

“Oh,” she sighed, her back arching slightly as he gauged her reaction. That smug smirk never leaving his lips as he went back for more. 

He closed his lips around her sucking on her clit as he slipped his middle finger into her smoothly, her back arching fully off of the bed. Shaking his head slightly he pulled a moan from deep within her chest, slowly beginning to pump his finger into her at a deliciously slow pace. 

“Gorgeous,” she tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging it at the root as his tongue danced in slow circles around her clit, her breath catching in her throat as his tongue came into contact with a particularly sensitive spot. 

He rutted his hips into the mattress chasing the friction that his body craved. A hum of pleasure slipped past his lips, shooting straight to her core. A loud moan escaped her as pleasure shot straight into her stomach. He raised an eyebrow, his hips slowing their motions as he elicited soft moan from his chest, the vibration of the simple noise sending her body into a frenzy. 

She clenched around his fingers, back arching once more as she fought to keep her legs open; thigh muscles burning. A string of profanities escaped her, his name mixed in as a coil of pleasure began building  in her stomach. 

Josh pulled back, quickening the pace of his fingers as he watched her. A soft whine slipped past her lips at the loss of his mouth but her body betrayed her, clenching around his fingers once more as he curled them upwards; hitting the spot inside her only he knew how to find. 

“You like that, sweet girl? Hmm? Gonna give it to me?” His lower register revealed itself again, earning himself another moan of his name as he placed his other hand on her, thumb rubbing quick tight circles into her clit. Her breathing quickened, a nod of her head the only thing she could muster as she bit down hard on her bottom lip, her fingers tangling in his curls and yanking. 

He slowed his fingers to a near halt, slowly pressing in and pulling out of her. Her breath hitched in her throat, balling her hand into a fist before bringing it down forcefully against the bed next to her. A low chuckle escaped him as he pulled his fingers out of her, bringing them up to his mouth. Her eyes snapped open, meeting his quickly as he slowly took her fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them fully savoring the taste of her arousal. 

Her chest heaved as she clenched her thighs together, trying to chase the friction she so badly craved. Josh shook his head, placing a hand on each of her knees as he pried her legs apart, eyes falling to observe her. A guttural groan escaping him as his cock twitched, fighting the urge to buck his hips into nothing. 

“Use your words, Princess.” A devilish grin spread across his face as her eyes rolled back, her back arching up off of the bed at the sound of his words. Her vision was clouded as her eyes landed on him once more, pulling in a deep breath. 

“I need you, now.” It was more of a demand than a statement. He chuckled lowly, pressing soft kisses to the sensitive skin of her thigh. 

“What exactly do you need?” He drawled, knew full well what he was doing to her. She swallowed hard, steadying her breathing as her gaze bore into his, the clear mischief dancing behind his golden amber irises enough to send her spiraling. 

“Put a baby in me, gorgeous.” The sentence rolled off her tongue easier than she ever expected. That cocky smirk he loved to torture her with tugging at his lips as he pulled himself up onto all fours, planting his hands on either side of her head. 

She reached down between them, wrapping her petite hand around his girth, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his dick in her hand. She didn’t hesitate, guiding the head of his dick along her slit, gathering her wetness before lining him up with her entrance. 

His brow raised, a silent question of consent as her eyes met his, a slight nod of her head all the permission he needed. Pushing his hips forward he teased her entrance, gently dipping the tip of his dick into her. He focused on her face as he slowly pushed into her, taking pride in the way her eyes rolled back and the sharp intake of breath she pulled through her teeth. 

Josh stilled his movements as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him down closer to her as she adjusted to his size; a curt nod of her head signaling and a soft kiss pressed to his forehead signaling him to continue. He leaned down, taking her taut nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the bud as he slowly started to pull back.

The sigh that slipped past her lips as he glided back in only egging him on as he quickly found a steady rhythm. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, opened mouth kisses leaving a trail of pink marks in their wake. He could feel her clench around him as he nipped at a particularly sensitive spot on her neck, focusing all of his attention on it when she began digging her nails into his back; scratching his skin raw as she raked them down his back. 

A string of profanities slipped past her lips as he slipped his hands beneath her ass, angling her body just right to drive her to the edge, hitting that perfect spot inside her with every thrust. Her breath caught in her throat as she sunk her teeth into his shoulder, the coil of pleasure in her stomach threatening to snap at any moment. 

“Gonna cum all over my dick like a good girl?” He grunted, hips beginning to lose their rhythm as his high approached. A loud guttural groan escaping his throat as she spasmed around him. He made quick work of slipping his hand between their bodies, his thumb finding her clit and swirling quick tight circles against it. 

His name fell from her lips like a mantra as her orgasm washed over her, the way she clenched around him too much for him as he rutted his hips into her faster, an animalistic moan escaping him as he crashed into his peak.

“Goddamn it, Sweetness. That’s it, give me it all. You feel so good milking me like that.” His voice was feather light, talking her through her orgasm; his own nerves heightened as his confidence waned. 

“So good, so good.” He whispered, his hips shuddering to a stop as he collapsed on top of her. Her fingers danced across his back, tracing shapes absentmindedly into his sweat slick skin. He peppered soft kisses to her cheeks chest heaving as he came down from his high. 

He pushed himself up to hover over her, his arms slightly weak as he held his weight. Her eyes fluttered open, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. A wide grin spread across his face as he slowly pulled out of her, quickly snatching a fire tissues off of her bedside table. 

“I got it.” She giggled, reaching for the tissues. Josh shook his head, holding them up just out of her reach as a pout danced across her lips. 

He made quick work of cleaning her up, disposing of the tissues in the bedside trash can before focusing on cleaning himself up. She reached for him, wanting nothing more than the familiar weight of his body laid across hers, pressing her firmly into the mattress. 

A soft chuckle escaped him as he laid across her, hooking his leg across hers as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. She carded her fingers through his now damp hair, the curls all but falling out of his hair as she tugged at it gently. A satisfied groan slipped past his lips as his breathing steadied, sleep threatening to over take him.  A yawn slipped past her lips, scratching lazily at his scalp. 

“Hey Gorgeous?” She cooed, tilting her head to look at him better. A tired groan slipped past his lips, tilting his head so she knew he was listening. 

“What’s for dinner?” A clearly annoyed whine slipped past his lips as he sunk his teeth into her neck in a playful nip. 

“You.”

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

On July 4, 2004, one week after control and sovereignty of Iraq had been handed over from the United States to an interim Iraqi government, Sergeant 1st Class Billy Maloney stood in the mouth of an aircraft hangar at a U.S. military outpost in Baghdad, his ear to a satellite phone. Around him: a dozen or so members of the 101st Airborne’s 2nd Brigade, 1st Infantry Division.

On the other end of the line was Earl McClung, who had been a staff sergeant with Easy Company in World War II. Sergeant Maloney didn’t know McClung, but when he’d phoned Denver-based Valor Studios to order a Band of Brothers illustration, he had asked if there was any chance of getting an Easy Company vet or two to offer some Independence Day encouragement to his weary soldiers. He knew that Valor, which specialized in paintings and other memorabilia honoring military personnel, had lots of connections. And by now his men and women desperately needed a boost for their morale; they had been in Iraq for more than sixteen months.

Adam Makos, who along with his brother Bryan co-founded Valor Studios, was so moved by Maloney’s request—Who reaches out from a combat zone on a satellite phone?—that he made it happen. He rounded up six Easy Company vets and scheduled them all to make half-hour sat calls to the troops on July 4: Malarkey, Darrell “Shifty” Powers, Guarnere, Edward “Babe” Heffron, and Compton would all be calling with words of encouragement, in addition to McClung.

Maloney gathered a group of soldiers anxious to talk to the Easy Company vets on the satellite phone. Maloney made the first call, to McClung, eighty-two years old.

“Thanks so much, Earl, for taking time for us today,” said Maloney, a forty-two-year-old “lifer” from the Bronx. The sound of helicopters taking off and landing was so loud that he had a finger plugged into his non–phone ear. “We got some folks who are anxious to hear from you. The first is—”

Boom!

“Incoming!” yelled Maloney as he dove for cover.

Through the satellite phone, McClung could hear the missile.

Whhhhhhhhhhhhhhh—pkkkkkkkkkkkk!!!!!

The blast sent Maloney flying. And at his home in Pueblo, Colorado, McClung recognized the sound on the line and instinctively did what he had done hundreds of times when shells were raining down six decades before. He dove for cover—in this case, beneath the living room table.

Surreally, McClung could hear what sounded on the phone like a bevy of exploding rockets. Shouts from Maloney and the others. More blasts. Groans. Chaos. My God, he thought, soldiers could be dying. In these frantic seconds, he wasn’t in Colorado—he was in the Bois Jacques. It all came back, the panic, the fear, the feeling of being hunted with nowhere to hide.

“You OK, Billy?” he said into the phone. “Billy, you all right?”

No answer. A few minutes later the line went dead. When Maloney called McClung two days later, he said his unit had been attacked by 120mm rockets. A number of soldiers had been wounded, including Sergeant James Lathan, who would later die of his wounds. A woman from the Black Hawk unit—Maloney couldn’t recall her name—had had most of the flesh torn from a leg.

McClung thought: This is what these people are going through. Just like us. All these decades later. He thought of the loneliness in the woods near Bastogne, the cold, the detachment from anything that made sense. Later, he thought: These soldiers deserve more than a long-distance pep talk. They need to know this country is behind them.

“Billy, what can we do to help?” asked McClung. “Beyond just a phone call?”

Maloney, who was based in Hanau, Germany, and married to a German woman, gave it some thought. He got back to Earl with the idea of bringing a group of Easy Company men to Germany for an event with active-duty soldiers. Have a dinner, share a few beers, offer them some encouragement. It could go a long way—even if it was just a few dozen soldiers, their new-found enthusiasm could “catch” to others.

McClung was all in. The more the two talked, the more enthused they became about the idea. Hell, they could peg it to the sixtieth anniversary of the Battle of the Bulge in December, providing Easy Company’s men were willing to travel in the winter.

“And another thing,” said Maloney, “how about if we invite some German World War II soldiers?”

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“Earl,” said Maloney. “You still there? Earl?”

~ Bob Welch

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Daniel Villarreal at LGBTQ Nation:

During New York City Pride last Sunday, pro-Palestinian protestors blocked the parade route, spraying red paint onto a truck towing the Human Rights Campaign’s (HRC) float. Some protestors began distributing informational leaflets, others smeared themselves in red paint and unfurled Palestinian flags, and several sat in the street alongside a white banner that read, “No queer liberation without Palestinian liberation.” “Free, Free Palestine!” they chanted, and “Shut it down!”

“By taking blood money from arms manufacturers, @HRC has become complicit in the genocide of the Palestinian people,” wrote the protest organizer, Writers Against the War on Gaza (WAWOG), in an X post alongside a video of the action. “Stop arming Zionism. Free Palestine.” New York City police quickly cleared the area of photographers while onlookers repeatedly shouted, “Shame!” Officers then zip-tied the protestors, arresting 10 and charging seven with disorderly conduct, told Gay City News reported. Pro-Palestinian protestors had criticized the HRC last February for accepting a “platinum” financial sponsorship from Northrop Grumman, a weapons manufacturer that supplies the Israeli military. HRC has issued previous statements sympathizing with those harmed by the conflict.

But WAWOG wasn’t the only group who disrupted a Pride event this year to protest for Palestine. In Boston, Massachusetts, over 100 protestors blocked the parade route, and over 60 pro-Palestinian organizations signed a letter calling on the parade’s organizers to stop accepting money from companies with financial ties to Israel. In Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, pro-Palestinian protestors blocked the parade, facing off against a drumline. In Denver, Colorado, pro-Palestinian protestors interrupted a ska band performing on the PrideFest main stage to explain that the same conservative Christian nationalists who support the bombing of Palestine also regularly encourage violence against LGBTQ+ people. In San Francisco, California, over 1,000 people boycotted the main parade to attend a “No Pride in Genocide” Palestinian solidarity march, co-organized by Queers Undermining Israeli Terrorism (QUIT) and a local chapter of Jewish Voices for Peace. The march’s organizers accused SF Pride of accepting sponsorships from corporations “actively involved in the genocide of the people of Gaza” while noting Israel’s human rights abuses against Palestinian queers.

“Palestinian queer people do not have the right of return, are subject to the dehumanizing and violent treatment Israel gives to all Palestinians at its numerous checkpoints, often do not have the ability to enter into Israel, even if in a relationship with an Israeli, and suffer the same persecution as all Palestinians,” a QUIT spokesperson said to LGBTQ Nation in a statement. Israel’s treatment of Palestine has long divided the LGBTQ+ community. Israel has spent millions to tout itself internationally as the most LGBTQ+-friendly nation in the Middle East. Meanwhile, Palestine grants nearly no civil rights to its own LGBTQ+ citizens. Pro-Palestinian protestors have long accused Israel of using its LGBTQ+-inclusive policies to “pinkwash” its human rights violations against Palestinians. As a result, anti-queer conservatives in the U.S. often resort to “homonationalism,” citing Muslim-majority countries’ anti-LGBTQ+ policies as a pretext for racism, Islamophobia, and violence against Muslims.

[...] Some members of the queer community, like Ethan Felson, executive director of A Wider Bridge, a nonprofit that connects LGBTQ+ communities in North America and Israel, say that the pro-Palestinian protests have made some Jewish queers feel unsafe and unwelcome at this year’s Pride events. Felson’s sentiments have been echoed by out gay Rep. Ritchie Torres (D-NY), who has taken a very pro-Israel stance in the conflict.

“The anti-Israel wing of the LGBTQ community is essentially telling pro-Israel Jews that if you wish to be a part of the LGBTQ community, then you have to be in the closet about your Zionism, you have to be ashamed of your Zionism,” Torres told NBC News, referring to the movement to establish a Jewish homeland. “That to me is not Pride. That’s a perversion of Pride.” But the stakes of not speaking up have never been higher. While Biden’s policies have upset pro-Palestinian queers, other LGBTQ+ people have also pointed out that Trump doesn’t support Palestine either. As president, Trump drafted a “peace plan” for the region without any Palestinian input. He also defunded the UN’s agency for Palestinian refugees and moved the U.S. Embassy in Israel to Jerusalem while closing the U.S. mission to Palestine in the same city, both of which heightened tensions in the region. Additionally, Trump has said he will reinstate his Muslim travel ban and oversee mass deportations of immigrants in the U.S., having accused immigrants of “poisoning the blood of our country.” Overall, his stances threaten undocumented Arab families living in the U.S., increase hostility towards Arab Americans, and remove any pretense of the U.S. being a mediating force in Middle Eastern peace talks.

Pride Parades across the nation, including New York City, San Francisco, Philadelphia, and St. Louis, have had pro-Palestinian protesters blocking and disrupting parades to protest sponsors of Israel Apartheid State’s genocide campaign in Gaza and their pinkwashing campaign against LGBTQ+ Palestinians.

[chasekclay]

Exterior Painting Experts at Work

Exterior Painting Experts at Work https://elkhornpaintingdenver.blogspot.com/2025/03/exterior-painting-experts-at-work.html The next post Exterior Painting Experts at Work is available on Elk Horn Painting Company Read more on: http://elkhornpainting.com from House Painters Castle Rock CO - Feed https://elkhornpainting.com/exterior-painting-review-castle-rock-co/ via Elk Horn Painting - Denver via Elk Horn Painting - Denver https://elkhornpaintingdenver.blogspot.com/ March 10, 2025 at 09:48AM

[coloradopdr]

Why insurance companies prefer paintless dent repair for hail damage claims

Today, we're diving into the benefits of paintless dent repair, also known as PDR, for dealing with hail damage and why insurance companies are big fans of this method.

First off, PDR is a cost-efficient approach that saves on labor and materials, cutting down expenses compared to traditional repair methods. It's a streamlined process that avoids the need for repainting or replacing parts, making it quicker and more resource friendly. One key Advantage is how PDR preserves the original paint of your vehicle, keeping it in pristine condition and maintaining its resale value. By not having to repaint entire panels, you save money and ensure your car holds its worth over time. This technique is non-invasive, using specialized tools to massage dents out from the inside without affecting the structural Integrity of your vehicle. Insurance companies love PDR for its efficiency in restoring vehicles quickly, reducing claim costs and helping policy holders get back on the road faster. It's a win-win, as it not only saves money but also aligns with sustainable practices by cutting down on waste and carbon emissions. With PDR, you can ensure high quality repairs without the need for traditional bodywork, contributing to a greener automotive industry overall.

Visit hail damage repair page here https://www.coloradopdr.com/hail-damage-repair-denver/

[elkhornpaintingdenver]

Exterior Painting in Castle Rock Just Got Better with Elk Horn Paintings Expertise

Exterior Painting in Castle Rock Just Got Better with Elk Horn Painting’s Expertise https://elkhornpainting.com/mcmillan-exterior-painting-review-castle-rock-co/ The following post Exterior Painting in Castle Rock Just Got Better with Elk Horn Painting’s Expertise was first seen on Elk Horn Painting Read more on: http://elkhornpainting.com via House Painters Castle Rock CO - Feed https://elkhornpainting.com/ March 07, 2025 at 09:01AM

[dreampainting]

Dream Painting LLC is trusted choice for interior painting services, offering a wide range of solutions to meet your home’s unique needs. Our team of highly skilled interior painters in Denver is dedicated to delivering top-tier craftsmanship on every project, no matter the size or scope. From color consultation to the final coat of paint, we guide you through each step of the process, ensuring that your home’s interior looks exactly as you envisioned.

Dream Painting LLC 450 Lincoln St Suite 101, Denver, CO 80203 (720) 731–2027

My Official Website: https://dreampaintingllc.com/ Google Plus Listing: https://www.google.com/maps?cid=11150323371778481131

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exterior painting Denver: https://dreampaintingllc.com/service-Exterior-Painting cabinet painting Denver: https://dreampaintingllc.com/service-Kitchen-and-Cabinet-Refinishing

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EXTERIOR PAINTING INTERIOR PAINTING DRYWALL AND PLASTERING KITCHEN AND CABINET REFINISHING COMMERCIAL PAINTERS LIME WASH STAINING

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[stevebattle]

ROAMS "Robotically Operated Advanced Mobile Sensor" (1996) by Rosario Robert and Helen Greiner, IS Robotics (iRobot), Somerville, MA. Funded by DARPA, this military robot is deployed in war zones to perform forward reconnaissance using cameras and GPS positioning, before troops advance. It can be operated from a safe distance via remote control. This robot was a precursor to the Urban Robots Program. "Tested by Special Operations troops, ROAMS established the usefulness of robots on the battlefield."

"Greiner was invited to join a military training exercise with other robotics companies—the first of its kind. With that invitation, she saw an opportunity she sorely needed: Her company, iRobot, was going broke. “We were all worried about funding,” she says. “We didn’t have the money in the bank to make payroll at the end of the year.” She immediately booked a flight to Denver with a souped-up Pebbles robot, called ROAMS, and Rosario Robert, an engineer. Robert led the two-person ROAMS project. She worked on the mechanical side: drawing plans, soldering, drilling. She added a nicer camera, GPS (a brand-new technology at the time), and lifted the body higher off the ground. She stayed up late the night before the exercise, hand-painting camouflage patterns on the metal frame. ... At the end of the exercise, the soldiers met with Greiner and Robert. They gave the women tips to make the robot into something the military might actually use in the field. Above all, they said, the next version had to be tough. “We’re going to throw it off the back of a C-130.” " – What Happens When Your Bomb-Defusing Robot Becomes a Weapon, by Caroline Lester for The Atlantic.

[fxdltc88]

Prouty and Glass Carriage Factory which sat at the corner of Brush and Elizabeth st. Wayne Mi. Now occupied by Ford Michigan Assembly plant and Boise Cascade. Few know that Wayne was a major producer of sleighs and carriages until cars put them out of business.

Wayne's First Manufacturing Company

The Prouty and Glass Carriage Company, built on Sophia Street in 1888, was the first manufacturing company in the city. The company had been organized in 1881 by Fayette Prouty and John S. Glass and manufactured, carriages and sleighs. They moved to Wayne in 1888 and by 1889 had employed about 50 men.

The company underwent a reincorporation after a recession. George H. Stellwagen, became president; James R. Hosie; his business partner was treasurer; and William C. Prouty (the son of Fayette Prouty), was secretary and general manager. Augutus Stellewagen, replaced his brother as president, and was replaced himself by another brother, Jacob in until 1915. The company was in operation until 1915, when it was replaced by Harroun Motors, which produced automobiles from 1916 to 1920, when the factory was closed.

The Harroun Motors Corporation raised $10,000,000 in stock to begin a car company. Harroun bought the buildings and equipment of the former Prouty and Glass Carriage Company in 1916 for $40,000. The old carriage factory was 80,000 square feet and used for paint and upholstery, and in 1917 Harroun built a new 1,220,000 square foot factory next door for all other processes. The company operated for 12–18 months producing 200 cars per day. There were three models offered, a roadster and a touring car (each priced at $595) and a sedan ($850), each powered by the company's own four-cylinder engine. Cars were only available with a green body, brown roof and black fenders and upholstery. The roadster was only available in midnight blue. The goal was to get the price of cars below $500 to remain profitable.

In the spring of 1918 the company got a government contract to produce 200,000 artillery shells during World War I. The plan was to produce cars and artillery shells together in the factory, but the government sent an arbitrary order limiting the factory to only 25 cars per day. Harroun produced 23,899 155mm howitzer high explosive, Mark I, Type B shells for the war effort.

After the war, the company tried to get started again, creating a new model for 1920. Representatives took the car on a tour from Detroit to Montana and on to Denver to prove its reliability. The tour went well, but the company still closed in 1920. Fewer that 3,000 cars were built and two are known to survive. In 1923 the company assets were sold off and the factory bought by the Gotfredson Truck Company in 1924.

1925 Gotfredson model 40

The Gotfredson & Joyce Company began in 1920 in Walkerville, Ontario, Canada. In 1923 the company moved to Wayne, MI and became known as the Gotfredson Truck Company.

In 1936, Gotfredson adopted GMC cabs for its trucks. These were ultra custom heavy duty vehicles produced in very small numbers, just five or six a year, and all for Detroit area customers. At the time, if a truck operator wanted a diesel-powered job, he had to go to a custom producer like Gotfredson to get it. The company continued to build these custom trucks in very small quantities until 1946 when production ended,

[chaletnz]

Colorado Springs: Lunch at Denver Biscuit Company, arrival cookie at the Doubletree hotel, breakfast pancake at the hotel. On the way back home we drove out to the Paint Mines Interpretive Park which was completely empty except for us!

[bowling-with-ham]

starlight express s/i

Name: Silver “Sylvester” Sky

AKA: the Bar Car

Engine or coach: Coach

Passenger or freight: Passenger

Inspiration: a Superliner II Observation or “Sightseer” lounge car, Bombardier manufactured. These cars were two-level with a wet bar and lounge and large observational windows on the upper floor, and an electric piano and café on the lower floor. (Silver Sky is an actual name of an original California Zephyr dome-top observation car.)

Company: Amtrak

Line: Runs the California Zephyr (Chicago to San Francisco by way of Denver) and Coast Starlight (LA to Seattle) lines.

Characterization: Sylvester embodies a Midcentury or Jazz Age bartender, endlessly sanguine, mellow, entertaining, a good listener. He is a relic of a dying age of passenger train travel and he knows it. He has chosen to think of himself as the last bastion of the 20th century and party like every night is New Year’s Eve at the end of the world, since any day he might be taken out of commission because faster trains mean the train is no longer seen as an experience in and of itself and lounge cars like him are being replaced left and right. Allegorically, he’s a bartender, lounge singer, and piano player, and his signature drink is the Silver, a prohibition-era gin and vermouth cocktail. He’s usually tipsy himself and is sometimes derisively referred to as the ‘drinking car.’ Utterly neutral on racing. Most everyone comes to him to talk, so he knows a lot about everyone. Yet nobody knows almost anything about him. He’d say there’s nothing to know, besides what you see before you.

Headcanon/voiceclaim song: “Diamond Light Boogie” by the Cherry Poppin’ Daddies. “This century is ending / It's your last chance to dance to rock 'n' roll! / Diamond Light - turn on, turn on your light / Diamond Light Boogie is sparklin' bright / Shine on, shine your light / Sunglass Sam kept you up all night / Oh yeah, that's right / Bubblegum girls wear their pants too tight / Oh yeah! Let's go! / Let the 21st century roll!”

Associated genres: rock and roll, swing, 90s swing revival, jazz, lounge, space age pop, and electro swing.

Palette and design: Starlight silver and midnight blue with stars, 60s space age/jet set/atomic age elements, art deco pinstripes and wings (resembling the amtrak logo), glitter, and a jaunty cap somewhere between a fedora and a train attendant hat. On top of the usual StEx train costume, his outfit details evoke a 1920s-1940s bartender, a classic train conductor, and for some reason the god Hermes. Also disco balls. Distinctly musical energy. General vibe of a psychopomp and portent of the end times, but carefree about it. Would have silver face paint as part of the costume.

I’ll update this if I get around to drawing him! I’m just really pleased to be able to cram 1) the train lines I’m autistic about 2) the music I’m autistic about 3) the alcoholic tendencies I try not to worry about and 4) myself into one character. I love the vibes on this guy I’m not even gonna lie