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#los angeles mission
vintagehomecollection · 11 months
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The Los Angeles House: Decoration and Design in America's 20th-Century City, 1995
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karlayanira · 5 months
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santa barbara, california
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marshmallowgoop · 2 years
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ShinRan Week 2022: Day 3 | Flying to Los Angeles
Memories and mountaintops Drunk on Sunset Boulevard With the city of angels singing on
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brysonstott · 1 year
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nestor cortes trying literally anything to strikeout shotei ohtani
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krisget-thebanana · 1 year
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I’m curious as to what other people think about this so
You don’t have to but I’d like everyone who participates in this poll to reblog this and explain their reasoning in the tags
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malikjbc · 2 months
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SCATR 3rd St Tunnel. Dtla. ig- @saewut198
Photos by ig- @Ishygoon
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emperornorton47 · 10 months
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Mission Control Replica
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what-marsha-eats · 1 year
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fatedstrands · 9 months
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Legato, what is a regret you wish you could undo?
The question from the being catches him off guard, having welcomed his Strands in for the evening sermon in the city they'd paused in, seeing each out with a warmth reserved only for them. The last to leave lingered, clearly asking from a place of pain themselves. At least, that is how the witch had seen it.
He motions for them to join him at a pew of the church, slowly settling on the smooth polished wood. The words still mulled about in his mind, mingling with memories as he touched his arm, where a small human skull rest, cut to fit perfectly on his limb.
"Well..."
Where did he even begin? What of his many failures would he undo? What would he give anything to fix, even if it cost him everything to do it?
He thought of the child, as illness and injury took their life, their pleas to travel, their begging, the soft voice pleading;
You promised I'd see the world when I was older. Please, never let me cease walking.
It was the hardest final plea he'd taken on, when they'd begged to go with him, how he'd carefully cleaned their skull, carved the front plate off and strengthened it with the aid of the God. How that youth still rests with him every day on his arm, a reminder of mortality and life after death.
Lips parted, as if to speak of this memory only for teeth to sink into his flesh as another struck him with a violent ferocity he doubled over. The pain so cruel, so foul like a beast tearing his stomach open to leave his insides bare to the world to rot away.
It was his own failure, as it always was. He'd been caught in the crossfire of pantheons warring, of Gods versus a Goddess with a violent hatred of all things homo sapien.
He'd thrown the wolf from the target of fire, eyes flashing up as pure energy roared like a dragon to his body. He couldn't move fast enough, the Punisher and it's handler having taken all his momentum, he was stuck, drained from his own fight. His threads writhing in his brain matter as blood slipped from his ears, his nose and stained even his teeth as he bared them.
A moment felt like an eternity, the blackened purple energy charging through the air, he found himself welcoming it. His life was over, but his last act was saving a dear friend, giving a chance to those around to make their move. Lips had curved, a serene smile as heat bloomed ever closer, eyes slipping shut with a soft prayer;
Let my death be the linchpin in this fight.
But Fate was a cruel Mistress to the living.
Arms found his form, ready for the end of life, cradling him close as feathers wrapped around his kneeling shape, cocooning him and protecting him from the sudden burst of plasma from beyond. Eyes snapped open, head jolting up to lock teal with gold, confusion turning to horror as he watched blond rapidly bleed black.
Thank you. For showing me that no matter what happens... Humanity has hope.
Words stained his soul, marred his flesh with vibrant cursive and warm geraniums across his heart, gouging his pulse as the memory consumed him now, the world falling away from his awareness.
He remembered the way he'd cried out, begging the other to stop, that he wasn't worth the Angel's life. The vivid memory brushed his cheek, wiping the bloodied tears that had formed, falling as he watched the Divine give everything for him.
Never change, Legato.
Angel burned away and when the energy finally ceased, the wretched scream of the horrid Goddess was nothing on the agonizing silence that soft smile left as his body turned to ash right around the human. It held nothing on the emptiness in his mind that formed as the other's consciousness faded.
It was nothing on the agony in his very soul.
Nor the burn of something powerful threading through his veins, blue lights burning over his plant scars he'd carved into flesh, only to turn a vibrant purple, the shapes morphing into something different, something new.
It held nothing to the rage as he stood, despite the blood, despite the agony of overexertion, despite it all, he stood against the Goddess, with kin alike strewn around in weakened but equally enraged states, converging with a violence unseen.
He came to the present once more, lights burning under his clothes, hidden barely by their weave, hands shaking as tears plipped against the ground whilst his gaze had been cast down between his ankles.
"I lost a... Dear friend because of my own weakness... If I could undo one thing... It'd be letting Him stand in the way of my own demise."
Without you... Where will we go? Where will we turn?
His head snaps up as he feels the faintest brush along his forehead, like a tender kiss of the angel.
To the stars and forward, Legato. Always forward.
That same serene smile found his lips, eyes falling shut in the moment as he let the Strand leave on their own terms.
"I suppose I never truly lost Him... For He will always light our way."
Eyes looked upon the statue, the angel depicted before him as he does in every Strand operated Temple. Memorialized in his sacrifice for the hope of Humanity and Plant alike;
Vash the Stampede.
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Instagram: iliketoseeeverythinginneon
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The Los Angeles House: Decoration and Design in America's 20th-Century City, 1995
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laugardagur · 2 years
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pretty lil RV
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danielamadriz · 1 year
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Logo and visual identity for the Back to Mass Campaign by the Archdiocese of Los Angeles, CA. The logo draws its style from the Californian Mission Revival and Art Deco architectural movements, and its symbology from the Tilma of Our Lady of Guadalupe.
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blackcat2907 · 2 years
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New AU:
So, as I am slowly getting dragged back into Marvel, I had this idea for the Titan Army. (Luke, Silena, Alabaster, Ethan, and Chris) What if they were abducted as kids because they were Demigods, brainwashed and trained to kill? Sort of like the Winter Soldier and the Black Widows.
They get saved by, well, you know, Percy, Annabeth, and either the Seven or just others from Camp Half-Blood.
Just a thought. Let me know what you think.
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captaincaliair · 2 months
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Temporary Portable Spot Cooling Rentals - Equipment Rentals of Los Angeles
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steveparkhurst · 10 months
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