#icons denver

[clubhoops]

RIP Dikembe Mutombo, the son of the Congo ♥️🕊️

[marina-na-na]

[herigo]

[anerdindenver]

[officialfoxsquadron]

rising, falling

972 words | my ao3

rating: general audience

summary: Aunt Beru's son is growing up. He is in danger. This, she has always known.

When Luke’s toys came crashing around him, she cursed him again. Not her nephew-no, never him. She cursed his father, Obi-Wan, the whole damned lot of them. They were sandstorms, these men-destroying everything in their path, not caring who they hurt or what they left behind.

Obi-Wan, at least, had the decency to stay close. She knew, eventually, that there would come a day when he would take her nephew-her son -away, and she would have to let him.

But that didn’t mean she had to trust him. Any of them, these sandstorm men who reached for the suns, tried to bring them crashing down. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in the Force-it was hard not to when your son woke from his nightmares with toys floating around him. She just never understood why they had to mess with it.

“Aunt Beru,” His voice was small, quiet, and shaky, but Luke sat bolt upright. She felt her husband rush behind her, his hands ghosting her back as she clutched her collar. She had screamed, she realized. She shouldn't have done that.

He's growing like a weed, she thought dully. He'll need new clothes again. “Uncle Owen. I had a bad dream-”

“It’s alright, son,” her husband said, in that gruff voice of his. He brushed past Beru, smoothed his nephew’s blanket, laid him back down. “Just worried it was raiders, that’s all.”

“Bu-but-”

“It’s alright.” Owen said-no, insisted. He wordlessly walked to the other side of Luke’s room and picked up his bantha plush, placing it back in Luke’s hands. “Just go back to sleep, we’ll fix it in the morning.”

“Okay.” Luke said, squeezing the toy near his chest, voice already dipping. “Just a bad dream?”

“Just a bad dream.” Owen confirmed, stroking his son’s hair as he fell to sleep.

Beru was still frozen in the doorway. She wanted to comfort her son, but Owen was always better at this part of parenting. He would rush in when fear made your heart leap into your throat. 

She did not want to be scared of him, her darling boy, who always knew how to make her laugh. But seeing the contents of his room floating around him, the pained noises that were in his throat-

“We love you, Luke,” she said, quietly, still trying to regain her breath. Luke was already asleep, but she hoped he heard her. “It’s alright. Go back to sleep.”

Owen wrapped his arm around her, her whole body still shaking, after he closed Luke’s door. He held her until they were back in their room and guided her to sit on the edge of their bed. He wrapped a blanket around her, wordlessly, and found the bottle of liquor they kept hidden for moments like these.

“Thank you, Owen,” she said, her voice clawing its way out of her throat. She took a sip-she hated the stuff, but her nerves were overactive all these years. “I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“Stop,” Owen said gruffly, taking her hand. He held it between his, rubbing his thumb along her palm. She felt the fear, the anger, the hatred die down for a moment, enough to regain her senses.

“How did you know to go to him?” Her husband rarely asked questions of her. She turned, looked into his eyes. They were blue, so blue, calm and silent.

“I dunno. I couldn’t sleep.” It was the truth. Sleep had never come easily to her, and she always made sure to peek into Luke’s room when she could. Just to make sure he was breathing. That’s when she saw it, the contents of the room floating above him. "I screamed, Owen. I should have never done that, he'll think-"

"Stop," he said again, kissing her forehead. "It's not your fault. You can't always control how you react to...something like that."

She thought-not for the first time, and certainly not for the last-of stories Shmi would tell her, of dreams and nightmares that led to a quickening in her womb. She thought of Luke’s mother, the beautiful woman from very far away. She had been so sad, even then, when she was supposed to be young and in love.

She gave Beru a smile when they parted, an odd little smile. A reassuring one. An apologetic one. It was one that twisted Beru's stomach.

She thought of the smile now, her parting gift from her sister-in-law. It was a gift women gave each other often; when they went off with bad men, when they hoped against hope that things would work out. She had given it to her, so that when reports of a massacre came in, Beru wouldn't scream. She would try and remember. She would try and control herself, hold still in a sandstorm, because the men were playing at gods again.

Her husband smoothed her hair, kissed the side of her head. She put the glass down and rested her head on his shoulder, letting herself melt into his familiar warmth. He guided them to lay on the bed, and she leaned into him, wrapped herself around him.

He sighed, in the way he sighed right before he said something he thought was terrifying. “He’s growing up, Beru.”

“I know,” she replied, and traced his jaw, his nose, the lines on his face. How did they get there? They were young once.

They didn’t need to say anything else. They never did. Her husband’s heartbeat, the rise and fall of his breath–it was a song she knew, a lullaby, and she let it calm her fried nerves. He fell asleep, and soon, she would too, despite herself.

We’ll fix it in the morning, she thought. Luke is growing up, and the sandstorm is coming, but there’s nothing for it now. We’ll fix it in the morning.

[whatwouldjesusdowwjd]

[certifiedlovergal5]

photo dump from denver

[modernmanblues]

oh the perversity of inanimate objects.

-John Denver

[farmersmarketlesbian]

the strap on my jumpsuit broke right before taking these but YVIE ODDLYYYY 😮😮😮

[biblicalhorror]

THE Dr. Angela Davis speaking at the student encampment on Auraria campus in Denver this weekend.

"I want you to know how important it is that you are taking this stand and this moment," Davis said, addressing the protesters. "I want to emphasize what this means for history. As you imagine this period being narrated 10 years, 20 years, 50 years from now, you will be the historical actors who made it possible for a breakthrough for the struggle against Zionism and the struggle for a free Palestine."

Civil rights icon Angela Davis speaks at Auraria campus in Denver after 40 protestors arrested

Please take the time to donate to the Colorado Palestine Coalition and the encampment here if you can!

[lucky-strike-14]

TAKE ME HOME, COUNTRY ROADS | Bass Singer Cover

"you can take the girl out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the girl"? Fuck that. The girl doesn't want to be taken out of the country. She wants to be put back there

[rodspurethoughts]

National Pickleball League Announces Denver Iconics as First Team in Colorado

The National Pickleball League™ (NPL™) has recently announced that it has entered into a team purchase agreement with the Denver Iconics LLC, co-owned by Chris Montgomery and Mario Boschi. The Denver Iconics will be the first team in Colorado to represent the league, which already has two other teams, Naples JBB United and the Boca Raton Picklers. Pickleball is a sport that has gained a lot of…

[intheupside]

Crosby has privately and publicly said on many occasions — most recently for this article from The Athletic — that he intends to finish where he started in the NHL. Fenway Sports Group, which owns the Penguins, views making Crosby a Forever Penguin as its top priority.

If an extension isn’t announced on July 1, it’ll only be because Crosby might still be shrugging off another disappointing season by vacationing in Europe.

If he signs for three seasons, Crosby will play through the ends of current contracts belonging to Evgeni Malkin and Kris Letang— the two teammates with whom he is closest, not to mention the ones he pushed for the team to re-sign a couple of years ago.

The point is that Crosby isn’t going anywhere else to play NHL games.

If that upsets pot-stirrers who have gone out of their way to push this “Crosby deserves better” than what the Penguins have become — oh well. It might be tough for some people to accept, but they don’t get to decide what’s best for Crosby.

The Penguins are best for Crosby. Full stop.

I’m old enough to have been there when Lemieux didn’t even make it halfway through his 17th season with the Penguins. It was Crosby’s rookie season. Granted, Lemieux was four years older than Crosby is now. Still, he recognized then — as did former Penguins coach Michel Therrien — that Crosby, even at 18, was ready to lead the franchise on and off the ice.

Crosby is still the only guy for that job.

Before Crosby, the Penguins’ brand was built around star power, flashy scorers and high-end skill players. All those aspects remain, but Crosby infused the franchise with a blue-collar sensibility that Pittsburgh fans crave from their teams — even if several generations have passed since the city was a gritty, lunch pail, steel town.

The way Crosby plays changed what it meant to be a Penguin. His skill was obvious, but he hardly relied on God-given gifts. He worked his massive posterior off to win every puck battle, set up each or score each goal, and lift the Cup three times.

Doing that work — setting an example that the best and most popular player is also the hardest working and concerned with the team above the individual — made Crosby an icon. He’s still doing that work, even without a chance for his team to compete at the highest level.

As a student of history, but also someone who is studious when it comes to the franchise he’s shepherded for almost two full decades, Crosby is wise enough to know the chance — even if slight — to shape the next great Penguins team is more interesting than chasing a fourth title somewhere else, even if that somewhere is in Denver with his pal MacKinnon.

It won’t be easy. It might not happen.

But since when is Sidney Crosby not up for a challenge?

from the athletic

[henrycangelbaby]

In which: “It's not that the amount of love I had changed, but I feel so proud about it now, like that I want to shout from the rooftops and tell everyone of my loved ones how much I love my wife, MY wife, ya know?”

Or

An interview gives unique insight into Pedro Pascal and his vast amount of love for his wife

I make my way through meeting the cast of HBO's unexpected hit “The Last Of Us” rather easily.

Bella Ramsey lives in a far nicer apartment in London than anything I would have been able to afford at the same age. Despite their fame and talent, they remain settled and down to earth, dressed in an outfit a little too cool for me to understand and eager to show me around their lovely apartment that is decorated in a way that I quite liked but I'm sure my baby boomer father would find offensive. I even end up meeting Ramsey's girlfriend, a fellow actor (who I admittedly had never heard of) who is equally as young and pretty as Ramsey is. They are both lovely and down to earth, a sentiment I don't often find relatable working with celebrities.

Kaitlin Denver is in her late 20s and still looks like she could be in high school. She lives in a shared house with her sister, whom she also shares a music career with. Despite the controversy surrounding her character in the show, she seems to remain completely unfazed by the backlash and threats that surround Abby Anderson. Denver merley shrugs when I ask her how she deals with it, leaving me to assume her vices when it comes to dealing with unprecedented hate.

I meet other stars of the show too. Gabriel Luna has all the southern charm of Tommy Miller and more, making me question whether he really does any acting when playing the sweeter, younger Texan brother. Isabela Merced is very beautiful in person and is also far shorter than I had imagined. What she lacks in height she makes up for in personality and charm.

Of course, when you think of the stars of The Last Of Us, there is probably someone else that comes to mind. Securing an interview with Pedro Pascal is probably one of the harder things I have had to do in recent years. It's not that Pacal is hard to come by; in fact, in recent years we haven't been able to escape him. I originally doubted that I would even be able to secure an interview with the internet's "daddy." Pascal has had a busy few years, and this one is no different. With multiple projects coming out this year, including the new season of The Last Of Us and his highly anticipated entry into the MCU as the iconic Richard Reed, it seems that everyone wants a piece of him. While all the other actors on this list do have notable careers outside of the show, the point of this interview series was to be able to interview the main cast members of the show in anticipation for the new season; however, I found that same sentiment hard to carry across when interviewing Pascal. I don't want to spoil the show for anyone, but I will just say that he won't be back next season. Whether that's due to internal conflicts or simply being too booked, we’ll never know.

I was rather ecstatic to receive a phone call from someone on his team letting me know the time and date for our interview. Like normal, I'm given an NDA to sign before receiving any personal information, such as his address (which I did require for the purpose of the interview). But everything else seems to go off without a hitch. 

I was admittedly nervous to meet him. In the best way possible, his reputation definitely proceeds him. Pascal is only ever described as kind, loving, funny, and any other positive synonyms for a massive sweetheart that you can think of. I personally have been a big fan of his work since he played forever thirsted over narcos agent Javier Paner. I know they say you shouldn't meet your idols (and trust me, I've had my fair share of heartbreaking realizations that someone I once admired is actually a piece of shit), but I had high hopes for meeting Pedro. And I am happy to report that it did not disappoint. 

I arrived at his home in Los Angeles ten minutes earlier than I should have. Not that I'm kept waiting, as before I can get a second knock in on the door, a young woman flings it open, smiling at me tightly. She quickly lets me in, introducing herself as Pascal's assistant, offering me tea or coffee, and ushering me to sit down on the comfy-looking couch while I wait for her boss to arrive (which she insists should not be too long). I take a moment to look around the room while I'm waiting. The room is sweet and welcoming, much like the rest of the home, which feels very well... homely (like stepping into your best friend's house and chatting with their parents at the dinner table). It's a hard feeling to describe, such a sense of nostalgia from a place that I had never been in before. It feels fitting though that a man so beloved as Pedro Pascal should have a home that feels so nice. I snoop to get a closer look at the photos that hang up on the walls and sit on cabinets. Most of them seem normal. There are a few faces I recognize within the photos; Oscar Iscac can be spotted alongside a younger-looking Pascal in one of the photos on the wall. I spot John Favro amongst a few people in a photo that looks to have been taken on the set of The Mandelorian, but apart from that, the photos seem normal. They depict family and friends in various places over various years; it appears that Pascal cherishes his relationships with loved ones above all else. 

I'm stopped in my snooping by another face in one of the photos, a face I recognize instantly, a face that has been all over the internet and tabloids for some time now. Pedro's wife. The photo is the first one in which she features prominently, sitting alongside what I can only assume to be one of her husband's sisters. It's a sweet photo, one that I can imagine Pedro was on the other side of, grinning wildly while taking. Y/N Pascal is an elusive figure that the media and her husband's fans have been trying to know better for a few years now. She is what is best described as a "normie," that is to say that she is just like you and me; that is perhaps what makes her so interesting to fans. She doesn't appear to have any ties to the industry; she isn't some big-wig producer's daughter; in fact, despite their insistence, fans have been unable to find anything on her. She has no public social media accounts, no company profiles online, and no one she went to high school with has come forward with a tik tok horror story (yet!). The couple are shrouded in mystery; no one seems to know how they met, where Y/N is from, or even the highly shrouded question of her age. She certainly appears younger than Pascal by a good few years, and I'm sure that I could find thousands of posts online speculating (or being downright nasty) about how young she is. But out of respect for the happy couple, I leave it a mystery. 

The sharp heels of the sensible shoes that Pascal's assistant is wearing suddenly come back into earshot. She warns me to be ready with my stuff as “they” will be home soon. I don't think twice about her words before hauling ass back to the couch and trying to pull myself together. It's not long before I hear the front door open. Amy (Pascal's assistant that I had only just remembered the name of) runs to the door. I walk slower behind awkwardly, not wanting to intrude (despite the fact that I had spent the last ten minutes snooping around what was essentially a stranger's house). I peek round the corner to be greeted with Pascal's broad back. He is facing away from me, talking to his assistant lowly. His assistant finishes speaking and moves past me, wishing me luck in passing. Pascal doesn't turn around to greet me yet; in fact, he drops down onto one knee to reveal to my utmost shock his wife. Neither of them pay me any mind as he begins untying her shoes for her, ever the gentleman everyone believes he is. 

It's not a second later that the man of the hour turns around to greet me. He smiles widely at me, and I find myself blushing slightly at his unwavering eye contact as he introduces himself. He only introduces himself by his first name, not something I find often when meeting famous people; they are often eager to give me the name that everyone knows and loves them by. It seems a bit of a strange phenomenon in Hollywood that has missed Pascal. His wife then steps forward to introduce herself. I hate to be the bearer of bad news to the millions of jealous fans, but Y/N Pascal is strikingly beautiful; even as I meet her in her own home with no makeup, she glows ethereally with a striking smile that looks like it belongs on the cover of a magazine. In that moment meeting her I quickly see why Pascal holds her in such admiration.

Much to my disappointment, that is the first and last time I see her during the interview. Pedro ushers her away somewhere out of sight with a protective arm around her shoulder. I can hear him mutter to her lowly, promising to be quick. Before kissing her goodbye with an "I love you." It makes my heart ache with a longing. Much like the rest of the internet, I wish I had a man like Pedro Pascal. We chat for a while, while exploring his house, he speaks passionately about his career, which he clearly loves. He has a flame behind his eyes as he speaks about his long-winded love for the cinema. He tells me stories of his famous friends that are featured on his walls. We laugh together, and he very much reminds me of an old friend. Even though I should be interviewing him, I let him talk, rambling on about things that I didn't find important enough to put in this interview, but they certainly put a smile on my face. 

The house is beautiful; it's decorated nicely and feels authentic and homely. It's not massive, not overly obnoxious in the way many celebrity houses are; it's still big, the kind of size that screams loving family. I don't mean to make assumptions, but it almost feels like it's been brought with the idea of a growing family in mind. I complement the house easily. Pedro smiles at me. For the first time in the interview, he refers to his wife. He tells me that he hadn't cared where they lived; “anywhere is home when you are with someone that you love,” but insists that she had loved the house the moment they first saw it. "She has better taste than me,” he tells me with a loving glint in his eye. "She did a good job.” I compliment, he nods and smiles, "always thought I was biased 'cause I’m married to her, but glad to know it's not just me." I feel awfully privileged to get an insight into Pedro's fondness of his wife. It's not often that he speaks about her publicly; she gets mentioned in passing during interviews and is often spotted at events with him, safely away from the cameras, but it's clear to the general public that his marriage is a part of his life that he wishes to keep away from public scrutiny. 

Its towards the end of the interview that I do ask him about his marriage. We walk past a wedding photo that depicts him and his lovely bride squashed together on one seat, smiling widely at the camera. He doesn't say anything when he notices me peering at the photo. I ask him carefully if he thinks being a married man has changed him. He ponders for a second. "Probably,” he answers me carefully. It's not the response I had expected from him, so I quickly encourage him to go on. "I suppose it has in a way,” he continues. “It's not that the amount of love I had changed, but I feel so proud about it now, like that I want to shout from the rooftops and tell everyone of my loved ones how much I love my wife, MY wife, ya know?” I smile and nod at his explanation. I understand what he is saying—such a sweet sentiment that it makes my heart warm. 

We don't speak for much longer after that; he briefly mentions a few upcoming projects, which he seems excited for. I ask him what he has planned next, after his next few big projects are done. He hesitates for a second. “Truthfully,” he says, “I plan on taking a step away for a bit.” I ask if he wants to settle down more. “Yeah, that's part of it; I mean, I’m not getting any younger.” He tells me, “Things are changing soon, and I just want to be settled with my family.” He finishes. I wonder for a moment what he is referring to when he mentions these soon changes; I don't ponder on it too long; much like a crazed fan, I have a few theories floating around in my head. 

We wrap up the interview from there; he is as polite and gracious as he has been the entire time, shaking my hand and thanking me for my time. I try to thank him for the interview and for letting me into his house, but he simply shakes his head at me, insisting it was his pleasure. He disappears soon after that, saying he has something to attend to (and speed walking in the direction that his wife disappeared to). I'm left to see myself out; I don’t snoop too much after I’m left alone. I make my way back to the front of the house, peering around as I go. I peek inside one room that appears to be in the middle of some kind of renovation or do-over. There are multiple pieces of yet-to-be put together furniture on the ground as the walls look to be in the middle of being painted a pastel purple color. 

I’m about to leave when something catches my eye—on the table by the front door, which has various bits and bobs scattered over it, but none of these catch my eye. I step closer to get a clearer view of what appears to be a small black and white photo. I quickly realize what it is: tucked beneath the wallet I had seen Pedro place down before our interview began is an ultrasound. I smile knowingly as my theory is proven correct; the Pascal family is about to be adding another member. 

Congratulations to Pedro as his wife on the upcoming addition to their family.