#Miller Building

[rabbitcruiser]

Downtown Denver (No. 7)

On November 22, 1858, General William Larimer and Captain Jonathan Cox, Esquire, both land speculators from eastern Kansas Territory, placed cottonwood logs to stake a claim on the bluff overlooking the confluence of the South Platte River and Cherry Creek, across the creek from the existing mining settlement of Auraria, and on the site of the existing townsite of St. Charles. Larimer named the townsite Denver City to curry favor with Kansas Territorial Governor James W. Denver.[30] Larimer hoped the town's name would help it be selected as the county seat of Arapahoe County, but unbeknownst to him, Governor Denver had already resigned from office. The location was accessible to existing trails and was across the South Platte River from the site of seasonal encampments of the Cheyenne and Arapaho. The site of these first towns is now occupied by Confluence Park near downtown Denver. Edward W. Wynkoop came to Colorado in 1859 and became one of the founders of the city. Wynkoop Street in Denver is named after him.

Larimer, along with associates in the St. Charles City Land Company, sold parcels in the town to merchants and miners, with the intention of creating a major city that would cater to new immigrants. Denver City was a frontier town, with an economy based on servicing local miners with gambling, saloons, livestock and goods trading. In the early years, land parcels were often traded for grubstakes or gambled away by miners in Auraria. In May 1859, Denver City residents donated 53 lots to the Leavenworth & Pike's Peak Express in order to secure the region's first overland wagon route. Offering daily service for "passengers, mail, freight, and gold", the Express reached Denver on a trail that trimmed westward travel time from twelve days to six. In 1863, Western Union furthered Denver's dominance of the region by choosing the city for its regional terminus.

Source: Wikipedia

[huariqueje]

View from Panther House  - Melissa Scott Miller , 1995.

British , b. 1959 -

Oil on canvas , 36 x 40 cm.

[stromer]

through the power of deeply unserious behavior and a roster filled with freaks, a hockey team can achieve anything

[crunchchute]

imagining these two in a room together lately. best friends or killing each other which would it be

[outer-edges]

yes ellie must drive joel crazy when they’re traveling with the stupid jokes and all the questions and stuff but consider this: joel definitely drives ellie out of her damn mind I guarantee u this man points at random shit and he’s like “I worked on a house just like that” or “they did so and so to this building for this reason” and other dumb construction shit.

[shesmore-shoebill]

"This is why we should never hire from Tumblr" as an ultimate punchline of all time

[zeeckz]

[dancingtotuyo]

In the Silence (Joel Miller)

As often happens, my one shot turns into multiple shots. Second part to Build you the World

Joel Miller X Reader

Rating: PG-13 (some sexual references, language)

Warnings: 3rd trimester pregnancy, descriptions of pregnancy and labor (not really a lot for the actual child birth)

Tags: pre-outbreak, no outbreak (they deserve happiness!), pregnancy, fluffiness, Craftsman!Joel, 90s references, we are in 1995 folks!

Words 2832

Series Master List | Author Master list

You groaned spread out on the bed in nothing but your cotton nightgown. A foot jammed into your lungs and another your spine forcing you to your side. The foot jammed deeper into your lung stealing your breath away.

“You little brat. If I suffocate, I take you with me, you know.” You said, looking at your ever-growing stomach.

“That’s no way to speak to our son.” Joel leaned against the door, hands tucked in his pockets in such a way that you were sure that exact stance is what got you into this position in the first place.

“Go away. I don’t want to see you.”

Joel chuckled. “You don’t mean that, baby.”

“Yes, I do. You made me this way.”

Joel raised an eyebrow shaking his head. You groaned, not because of the baby playing tennis with your internal organs but because despite not wanting to be touched, desire coursed through your veins. You both wanted Joel inside you and to get the fuck away from you. Pregnancy was weird and annoying and wonderful and all that other cliche stuff pregnant women say. Another swift kick to your lungs was all the cold water you needed. You grunted having to catch your breath.

“Damn, I saw him move on that one.” Joel sat on the edge of your shared bed. You’d moved in at the start of your second trimester once the morning sickness tapered.

“Yeah, right into my lungs.” You shift ever so slightly, trying to create separation between your son’s foot and the organ that kept you breathing.

“Maybe he is a little bit of a brat.” Joel winked at you and you managed a chuckle. “Must be your genes kickin' in.”

You swatted his arm. He laughed, leaning down to kiss your cheek. You allowed it, warming up to the idea of having him near. You were in a constant state of fluctuation, swinging back and forth between wanting Joel as close as possible to not wanting him anywhere near you.

“Sarah is home, wants to know if she can come up. Wants to watch a movie in our bed.” He pressed a kiss right under your ear. Was he trying to seduce you?

“Sounds good to me.” You were more than happy not to have to go down stairs.

Going down stairs meant you had to go back up and that was getting harder by the day. Last night Joel was practically moving your body for you and you were still breathless before reaching the top. Joel was by no means weak. He’d had no problem throwing you over his shoulder 9 months ago, but two weeks from your due date, you’d gained 40lbs and your body weight distribution was different. You both shared fears that both of you might end up at the bottom of the steps if he attempted to carry you up. Throwing you over his shoulders wasn’t really an option right now.

“Might just keep you to myself for a few more minutes.” He grinned, another kiss on your neck. Your breath caught.

His hand traveled over your bare collarbone. Goosebumps rose over your skin. It followed down over your swollen, sensitive breasts. A soft moan. His hand traveled down further. He leaned into you more, more of his body touching yours, and you were done. Not in a good way.

He felt your body language change beneath him. “Ugh, I need to not be touched right now.”

Joel sighed, pulling back with an understanding smile. “I’ll go get, Sarah.”

“Will you bring me a snack?”

“Apples?”

“With peanut butter?”

“Is there any other way, my love?” Joel smiled. He disappeared around the corner and immediately, a fist to your bladder.

“Joel?”

You heard him turn and come back up the stairs. “Yeah?”

“Will you help me up? Your son just stabbed my bladder.”

He chuckled, offering out his hands. You took them moving to a sitting position. Joel waited for your nod until helping you to your feet. “Got it from here?”

“I think you.” You laugh, waddling toward the bathroom, and it was a true waddle.

The doctors estimated the baby was going to be at least 8 pounds and with 2 weeks left to your due date, you couldn’t believe he could get any bigger. The pressure you felt all around your abdomen, and as hot as you felt all the time, and the pressure, and the kicks to your internal organs, and the thought of delivering an 8-pound baby, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. You loved feeling your son move around in your womb, especially when he wasn’t targeting your internal organs. He was a physical expression of the love you felt for the man downstairs.

You stopped at the nursery door. You loved this room. Joel had finished the crib months ago, adding some more detailing to the rails. You ran a hand over it. It brought tears to the surface every time you looked at it.

The three of you had painted the walls a soft green. Sarah had been so happy to be included in the painting but lost interest after the first hour.

Your eyes drifted to the rocking chair. Joel crashed your baby shower. You smiled as you remembered the look on your mother’s face as he walked through the door. Your mother, ever the traditionalist, was horrified when a man crashed the event. Joel was already on her bad side for knocking you up and not marrying you immediately.

Joel had bustled in, declaring it was “his son too.” He’d set the rocking chair down right in front of you presenting it to you like a male penguin presenting a pebble to his mate. You’d fallen even more in love with him.

You fought the urge to sit in the rocking chair. You’d have to call Joel to get up if you did. You placed a hand on top of your stomach, it was much more than a bump at this point. “I love you so much little man. We can’t wait to meet you.”

You made your way back to the bedroom, easing down as Sarah bounded in. You smiled. “Hi Princess. How was school?” She’d started first grade this fall.

She climbed onto the bed. Joel came in close behind her, VHS tape in hand. “Good, Miss Jordan said we’re having Show and Tell next month. Can I take my baby brother? He’ll be here by then, right?”

You laughed, kissing her head. “I don’t think so. He’ll be too little, but you could take a picture of him instead.”

Sarah sighed, seeming to contemplate the proposition. “I’ll have to think about it.”

You caught Joel’s smile out of her periphery. “What movie did you pick?”

“Lion King.”

“Yeah, and someone forgot to rewind it last time,” Joel said, shooting a teasing smile at Sarah.

“Oops.” Sarah giggled.

You settled onto your side, fighting the heaviness of your eye lids. Sarah loved the Lion King so much you were sure the 2 month old VHS tape would need to be replaced before Christmas. It made you cry. Joel would tell you “cry” was an understatement. He was probably right. Weep might be more accurate.

Sarah sat with her back against your stomach. She’d learned not to put too much weight against you. Just enough that it didn’t trigger the need for personal space and just enough that she could feel the baby when he kicked.

Joel hit play and Sarah was instantly absorbed into the world. Joel settled on the other side of the bed, facing you. He brushed your hair back, fingers light over your cheek and neck. You smiled through shut eyes. He leaned over, breath hot in your ear. “Let me know if it gets to be too much, we can move downstairs.”

Between the noise of the TV and the breeze from the fan, sleep felt nearer than consciousness. You floated in the in-between haze. You grabbed his hand, letting it set on top of your stomach. Almost on cue, there was a thud in your womb right under Joel’s hand. Sarah has felt it too.

She giggled. “This is my favorite part too.”

You kept your voice soft and quiet. “Just wake me up after the sad part.” - Mufasa’s death of course, but just saying it made tears well in your eyes.

Joel chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Of course, baby.” Another to your forehead. “I love you.”

~

Your first contraction came at the grocery store. You’d insisted Joel take you with him this week, desperate to get out of the house. You’d had a little spurt of energy today which was a welcome change. You didn’t pay any mind to it, passing it off as Braxton Hicks.

The second one came as you pulled into the driveway. You paused in the passenger seat as it passed. Joel tapped on the door, a brown paper bag in one hand. “You good baby?”

You opened the door. “Yeah, just some Braxton Hicks.”

He offered his free hand and you took it. He pulled you up, bicep straining under his t-shirt. His hand rested on your back as he lead you inside. Sarah bounded across the Adler’s front yard into yours as soon as she spotted the two of you.

“Hey princess, you have a good time with the Adlers?” You sent Mrs. Adler a wave of thanks and assurance.

Sarah shrugged. “It was alright.”

Joel chuckled. Your neighbors were a little out there, but sweet nonetheless. They doted on Sarah like she was their grandchild. Joel’s parents had walked out of his life when he was a teenager. Your Dad died from a heart attack just a month after meeting Joel. He never got to meet Sarah and your mother… she wasn’t jumping to play grandma to either of your children. As odd as they might be, you both appreciated the Adlers' influence in Sarah’s life.

You and Joel never really talked about it, but somewhere along the line, Sarah had become yours too. You’d been around for over half of her life now. It was bound to happen. You were the backup contact at school, picked her up several days a week when you were nine months pregnant. You went to parent-teacher conferences. You’d learned the intricacies of caring for hair. You went to parent-teacher conferences and cared for her when she was sick. She’d called you mom once. Sarah hadn’t even realized it. Joel had come home to find you crying in the kitchen.

“Can we get a dog? The Adlers just got a dog. Her name is Mercy”

“You’re about to get a baby brother.”

“Can I teach him to do tricks?”

Joel shrugged. “Don’t see why not.”

You smacked Joel’s shoulder stifling a laugh. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your head as he went to collect the rest of the groceries.

By dinner time you’d had three more contractions. Sarah suckered you two into a movie night that extended past her bedtime. You and Joel both wanted to treasure the last few moments with just her before the baby came. You’d managed to talk her out of The Lion King and into a princess movie.

Joel noticed you shifting throughout the movie. It wasn’t uncommon for you to move around a lot, but tonight you seemed to be extra restless. The contractions were coming steadily every 15 minutes.

Joel took Sarah up to bed. You were down to 10 minutes. It started to set in that maybe you were in labor. The thought paralyzed you. It was like one of those things you know is going to happen, but illogically you think will never actually come.

“You feeling okay, Baby? You were shifting around an awful lot?”

The TV glowed blue in front of you. A hand rested on your bump. “I think I’m in labor.”

“Oh shit…”

You laughed. “Oh, shit is right.”

Joel kneeled in front of you, taking your hand. You smiled at him. You could read the nerves firing off inside of him. You squeezed his hand. “Walk with me?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Shouldn’t we go?”

You shook your head. “I’m at 10 minutes apart.” Joel nodded. The doctor said 7 minutes. You could tell Joel was fighting the urge to jump into “do-er” mode. “And I want to walk around our home one last time, just you and me.”

His thumb rubbed your hand. “Okay, baby.”

He stood, offering his hands as he had so many times. You accepted and he pulled you up. Neither of you said a word. His hand rested low on your hip and you settled yours on top of your stomach. You walked through the kitchen and then back to the living room. Nothing but the dark of night and peace between you. You left the back door open and wandered into the backyard, walking the fenceline. Joel had started to outline where the raised beds would go. That was his next project. He’d finished the back porch just as the winter chill settled in.

You stopped as another contraction started. Joel paused almost simultaneously like he sensed it. You made a few laps around the yard at a snail’s pace. Another contraction hit. Joel didn’t say anything as he glanced down at his watch, but you knew it hadn’t been ten minutes yet. He steered you inside.

He closed the door. You sighed, not wanting to break the silence. You could tell Joel was barely keeping it together. “Go get Mrs. Adler.”

He looked like a weight lifted off his shoulders. He kissed your forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

You rand through the mental checklist. Your bag was in the car. You were in comfy clothes. There were two hair ties on your wrist. Shoes, you needed a pair of those. Your sandals sat by the front door. Joel was getting Mrs. Adler. You would call your mom from the hospital. Sarah- you sighed. You wanted more than anything to go kiss her forehead. You weren’t making up the stairs, you knew that. So you pictured her in her room, snuggled until the covers her chest rising and falling steadily. You pressed a kiss to your hand, sending it up to her room on your breath. This might be your first baby, but that little girl made you a mom.

Joel came in. Mrs. Adler was hot on his heels. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. Mrs. Adler gave you a hug. You’d gone over the plan last week. Numbers were on the fridge and fresh sheets on the guest bed.

~

Your labor progressing at a linear rate would’ve been too easy. Once checked in at the hospital, your contractions were 5 minutes apart. However, your cervix only measured at 2 cm. That was 36 hours ago. Your labor had basically stopped around 3 am that first night. They’d tried everything to keep it going. Walks up and down the hallway, drugs, but nothing worked. You felt like a medical miracle or something. You and Joel had even snuck off to the bathroom for a quickie. Nothing did it. They discussed breaking your water, but labor had pretty much stopped. Your contractions turning sporadic. The doctors talked about a c-section, but you and the baby appeared to be fine. The only thing keeping them from sending you home was wanting to monitor both of your vitals.

Joel was restless. His eyes were bloodshot from nurses interrupting your sleep every couple of hours. You imagined you looked to be in similar shape. Visitors weren’t allowed in until after you had the baby, but Joel met Sarah and Mrs. Adler for an hour that second afternoon. He returned in much better spirits.

It made you more cranky. You missed Sarah. You were tired of being in the hospital, and dammit if you didn’t just want to hold your baby in your arms.

“If my labor doesn’t start by supper, I want a c-section.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Joel nodded. He kissed your forehead.

At 4 pm, the contractions started up again almost out of nowhere. By 4:30, Joel squeezed your hand while your doctor instructed you on what to do. At 5:07 pm on a crisp March evening, Asher Joel Miller made his way into the world. He announced his entrance into the world with the scream of healthy lungs weighing 8 pounds, 12 ounces, a number you never let Joel forget.

The medical personnel filtered out of the room. Asher, having been cleaned up, now rested contently between you and Joel. He had Joel’s nose and you could see the promise of brown curls on his head. Joel kissed your forehead and then your son’s. He pulled you in tighter. He didn’t need to say a word and neither did you. You felt his love running over like the bathtub when Sarah left the facet running.

[winterwandersland]

Hello, I am a fairly new writer on ao3 and would like to share my ongoing fanfiction story with anyone who would like to read it. I'm also new to tumblr, so I am going to figure out how to use it. I have always enjoyed reading and like to write, so I am using this story as a way to not only try to slow down the thoughts in my head but also to try to get better at writing. As the story goes, I do plan to have this a series that ties into different fanfictions. I also do not want to work to be based primarily on sex, so you will rarely see it. I might change my mind later on, but right now, that is my decision. I appreciate any support and hope anyone who sees this has a great day!

Skulls & Hummingbirds (86070 words) by winterwandersland Chapters: 13/? Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games), The Last of Us (TV), Avatar (Cameron Movies), Black Widow (Movie 2021), Colombiana (2011) Summary:

Simon Riley, a level-headed, selfless, and loyal SAS soldier, finds himself imprisoned in Mexico with Aiahna Hailu-Khatri, a rash, impulsive, and headstrong superhuman assassin after a mission gone awry. He finds himself intrigued by the woman in the cage, but after she disappears, he finds himself alone again. Burdened with her memories after her return, Aiahna begins to spiral and lose control, leaving her to make seemingly impossible decisions. Simon finds himself falling for Aiahna, who seems to fight for the lives of others, but not her own. Will Simon be able to find solace in Aiahna’s life-altering decisions and find himself, or will he continue to fight for someone who doesn't want to be saved? Furthermore, will Aiahna be able to face her past under dire circumstances, or will she crumble to her own demise?

The truth can create destruction or peace. Sometimes not facing the truth and lying to yourself can bring peace.Will the truth make or break Aiahna? Will Simon be able to find out the truth about the people in his life?

very slow beginning

updated: on sundays. thank you!

[actual-changeling]

for Meg, cause you're having a hard week <33 @ellie-licious

now on ao3 here

-

"What the fuck is a snowman?"

Joel blinks, fingers still curled around the cup he just set down. It's early November and the universe has decided to fuck her over by sending Jackson one snow-heavy cloud after the other, topped off with an early overnight snow storm that left them with several inches of snow. The last few days have been rough for both of them, her nightmares crawling out from their hiding places like bloodhounds finding a promising trail, and Ellie has abandoned her bed for his with the first dusting of snow; her sheets are starting to collect dust.

She presses her hot cocoa closer to her chest to feel the warmth seep through her sweatshirt and the two layers of clothing beneath them, not that she needs them while inside, but it gives her a sense of protection, an armor to wear. Her plan for today is, well, was apparently, to curl up with Joel on the couch and either try to catch up on the sleep she is missing with the daylight ready to keep her vampiric memories away, or watch one movie after the other until she passes out from sheer exhaustion. Joel, however, is oddly motivated to get her distracted outside of the house rather than inside, and suggested making a snowman once the coffee machine stopped gurgling behind him on the counter.

"You have never built a snowman?"

"Joel, have you ever seen a FEDRA soldier that isn't allergic to everything remotely fun?"

He snorts, sipping his coffee with a smile tugging on his lips, and she tries to swallow enough of his happiness to replace hers, bits and pieces of it gradually disappearing into the cold.

"A snowman is pretty much what it says on the tin, you roll up a bunch of big snowballs, stack them on top of each other and give it a face."

Ellie tries to imagine it, blurry memories of her very first visit to Jackson scratching somewhere at the back of her mind, and while she can't come up with a satisfying enough picture, she's sure her creativity will make up for it. Then, the last part of Joel's sentence fully sinks in, and she surprises herself with the ball of excitement that makes her bounce, almost spilling her cocoa down the front of her shirt.

"A face, you say? Any face?"

Joel is very, very glad the mischievous glint in her eyes has found a different victim today.

The next five minutes are a messy rush as they wiggle themselves into their winter clothing and tie up their boots, almost tripping over each other more than once when Ellie is incapable of standing still, idea blooming in her head. Yesterday, the cold draft alone made her flinch, but when she rips open the door now, gloved up and with a beanie pulled deep into her face, the sting of snowflakes on her cheeks is powerless against her excitement.

Joel shows her how to form proper snowballs, not satisfied until he approves them as 'structurally sound', whatever the fuck that is supposed to mean, and once she gets the hang of it, her ambition rises to the sky. They spend over two hours rolling and pressing together an almost life-sized snow person, with Joel doing the heavy lifting and Ellie carving out more details and giving helpful instructions.

"To the left, no, my left Joel not yours. Lower, it's lopsided now, Joel I said left, are you deaf?"

He stops, snowball, well, snow boulder at this point, really, dangerously balanced against his hip.

"Right, yeah, you are. Still no excuse for sloppy work though," she continues, not the least bit apologetic, and her cheeks hurt with the smile frozen onto her face, Joel's eyes brimming with an adoration that makes her blush.

They are finally done around lunch time, only noticing they missed it when the first people start to trickle back to their houses, heads turning when they pass their front yard. The sky stayed a piercing blue all morning, not a single snowflake in sight anymore, and when she presses herself against Joel's side as tightly as she can with with half a person of fabric between them, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her in, she no longer needs his happiness to stay warm, brimming with her own. Joel nudges her hat to the side so he can press a kiss to their temple as they admire their piece of art.

The real fun happens a few seconds later, though, when familiar footsteps come up behind them.

"What- Joel what the fuck is that my jacket?"

The snowman is exactly as tall as Tommy, facial features intricately carved by Ellie, a threadbare black blanket imitating his hair, and, to top it all off, Ellie may or may not have stolen some of his brother's clothes to make it as true of an imitation of Tommy as a bunch of snow and stones can be. She turns around, still holding onto Joel, and the stunned look on Tommy's face melts away when he sees the smile on hers.

"He was cold, Tommy, and besides, it suits him way better than you."

Maybe winter isn't going to be so bad after all.

[juliaknz]

MILLER MARANTA WOHNHAUS SCHWARZPARK, 2004 Basel, Schweiz Images © Ruedi Walti

[mariocki]

Doctor X (1932)

"If you ask me, I think Dr. Xavier is using very unethical methods."

"Necessity has no ethics, sir."

[rurpleplayssims]

[cinemaocd]

Going to rewatch the Mad Max films now but for my own reckoning here's my ranking, pre-rewatch...

1-Furiosa 2-Thunderdome 3-Fury Road 4-Mad Max 5-Road Warrior

[archinform]

Crossroads Room, Dearborn Station, Chicago

A lost Fred Harvey Restaurant in Chicago, designed by Samuel A. Marx, with murals by Edgar Miller

Fred Harvey Crossroads Room, Dearborn Station, Chicago, c. 1940, architect Samuel A. Marx. Source: Chicago Historical Society

I only learned about this long-gone but exceptional moderne restaurant interior a couple of days ago, while perusing a lengthy post on the Forgotten Chicago site.

Another mostly forgotten Art Deco landmark is seen above by noted Chicago architect and art collector Samuel Marx for the Fred Harvey Crossroads Restaurant at Dearborn Station. Perhaps best known locally for the original incarnation of the legendary Pump Room at the Ambassador East Hotel (now PUBLIC Chicago) in 1938, this Marx commission included a restaurant seating 102, a 50-seat cocktail lounge, and a 31-person lunchroom. Edgar Miller, Chicago’s great and recently rediscovered artist, was commissioned for the murals that commemorated both old Chicago and the southwestern routes served by the Santa Fe Railroad. Patrick Steffes, Chicago’s Million Vacant Lots, and Other Recent Research Finds, Forgotten Chicago, May 31, 2014

Dearborn Station. Designed by Cyrus L. W. Eidlitz, the station opened in 1885 at 47 West Polk Street, Chicago. Source: Dearborn Homes website

An earlier Fred Harvey Restaurant in Dearborn Station, 1899

Cover and contents page of Architectural Record, Vol. 88 No. 1, July 1940. PDF of entire issue is available from Architectural Record Archives here.

The scans below are from pp. 40-43 of this issue:

Text of the article:

Description on back of postcard

Another view of the restaurant. Source: Chicago History Museum

A view of the bar. Source: Chicago History Museum

The Crossroads Room featured curving walls in each of its three rooms, chrome fixtures with indirect lighting, and a serpentine bar. Marx specially designed all the furniture. He used a wide-ranging color scheme throughout the project, including "brilliant green, reddish brown, deep chocolate brown, pigskin, Indian red, black, and white," colors that were seen in much of Santa Fe's advertising through the years. Other distinctive decorating touches included Indian and roadrunner motifs and rather bizarre round neo-Baroque wall cases containing what appear from photographs to be cactus sculptures. These unique features would no doubt have reminded patrons of the exotic destinations of the Santa Fe Railroad in the American Southwest. Although Fred Harvey was best known for promoting travel to the West and Southwest, the new spaces were also full of depictions of the history and early life of Chicago. For the 183-seat Crossroads restaurant, Miller created a large wall mural depicting early nineteenth-century pioneer life in Chicago, including a cntral rendering of Indians, fur traders, and Fort Dearborn. For the 50-seat cocktail lounge, adjacent to the main entrance, Miller illustrated early Chicago settlers along with various livestock.... Patrick Steffes, "Crossroads Room," in Robert Brueggman, editor, Art Deco Chicago: Designing Modern America. Chicago Art Deco Society, 2018, pp. 313-315.

Enlarged view of floor plan, from p. 41 illustration above

Crossroads Room menu, Saturday, January 14, 1950 (ebay)

Crossroads Room, matchbook cover (ebay)

Anemo-Light advertisement; this type of anemostat indirect lighting was used in the Crossroads Room.

Portrait of architect Samuel Marx at his desk in his office in Chicago, Illinois, February 15, 1941. Source: Chicago History Museum

Art Institute of Chicago, works by Samuel A. Marx

Sources:

Andrew Raimist, Architectural Ruminations

Robert Brueggman, editor, Art Deco Chicago: Designing Modern America. Chicago Art Deco Society, 2018.

Chicago History Museum, images of buildings designed by Samuel a. Marx

Liz O'Brien, Ultramodern: Samuel Marx, Architect, Designer, Art Collector. Pointed Leaf Press, 2012

Old Chicago Station Gets New Restaurant, Architectural Record, Vol. 88 No. 1, July 1940, pp. 40-43

The Pump Room, Architectural Forum, July 1940, pp. 21-24

Samuel Abraham Marx, Wikipedia

Samuel A. Marx in the Art Institute of Chicago collections

Patrick Steffes, Chicago’s Million Vacant Lots, and Other Recent Research Finds, Forgotten Chicago, May 31, 2014

[bisexualbuck]

And now, it's time to leave

And turn to dust

[ID: Five gifs from HBO's The Last of Us focusing on Joel and Sarah Miller with the lyrics "And I built a home, For you, for me, Until it disappeared from me, from you, And now it's time to leave, And time to die. / End ID]