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#silver lake
rosechata · 1 month
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anaïs nin’s house in silver lake, designed by eric lloyd wright. photos by chrismottalini
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ygflame · 5 months
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Guadalupe🎭
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da-da-sk · 1 year
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© da-da-sk  
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robsimons · 2 months
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Silver Lake
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cronenburger · 6 months
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Elliott Smith gone now for 20 years. Here are pictures I took in Silverlake 5 years after his death.
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petegans · 3 months
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Silver Lake, Los Angeles - January 2024
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davetada · 1 year
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Palm trees
Silver Lake, CA
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oldshowbiz · 5 months
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A mysterious staircase at 1251 Sunset Blvd leads to a hundred year old bungalow court.
It is now abandoned and slated for demolition.
It is cool.
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chrisquartet · 7 months
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Chris Pine in Silver Lake recently 💥💥💥
IG credit to holycolorfulpig
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toointojoelmiller · 8 months
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please don't go: a last of us fic
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after David / Silver Lake / post-episode 8
angst, Joel & Ellie bonding, 99% canon compliant
rating: mature - content warnings re: s/a, violence, gore, more
The best found father-daughter duo help each other recover, work through their trauma, stay alive - hopefully a satisfying fill in for things we didn't get to see after winter !
if you're after a long read here's one for you
work in prog! +100k words
ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6 | ch 7 | ch 8 | ch 9 | ch 10 | ch 11 | ch 12
I'm no longer copying this over to tumblr because it got way too long and it's too much!!!! Read on ao3 for the updated chapters
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please don't go: chapter 1
Ellie’s frantic eyes finally seem to focus on him, and he can see her body language shift immediately. The hard adrenaline fuelled tension in her muscles sinks away as her face falls into unsettling blankness – he didn’t think it was possible but she somehow looks even smaller. Her lips start moving but she isn’t saying anything. Only low, halting sounds, whimpers and soft gasps of air that slice into his gut with a hurt nearly as sharp as the sewn up hole in his side. 
“It’s me,” he hears himself repeating. Never feeling more useless in his life, except for - it feels wrong to think of Sarah right now, with Ellie so immediately in need in front of him, but the image of her pink t-shirt soaked in blood swims up in his mind anyway, crystal clear even 20 years later, her heaving and jerking belly so small it’s easily covered by the width of his hands until it suddenly stills. He learned a long time ago that he’s helpless to fight it when this moment flashes back to him. 
This is what is written in the stars for Joel - his girls, too good and too sweet to know better than to trust him until that mistake catches up and they pay with their blood. It’s what he deserves. But - he’d seen it coming with Ellie - he’d known he wasn’t going to be able to keep her safe - Tommy would have never let - why the fuck does he keep existing when he’s so goddamn weak, worthless, worse than - poison, ruining everyone he - 
Ellie moves towards him and presses her face into the crook of his neck with more babbling - a word too this time, “He-” - and the weight of her, the warmth of her cheek against his is the only thing that could possibly bring him back into his body.
He feels his blood pound in his head as he wraps his hand up around the back of her neck – so impossibly small – tangling his fingers through her knotted hair, holds her against him like she’s made of glass. Her whole body is trembling.
“It’s ok, baby girl,” he says in a breath as he shuts his eyes, trying to keep himself upright against a surge of heartache. He hears the words as if someone else has said them, like they didn’t leave his lips – but immediately feels the truth in it. The wall he’s tried to keep up between Ellie and Sarah, the nothing-but-bullshit line he’s drawn to try to somehow separate what they are to him is gone. There’s no more pretending. She’s his to take care of – that’s how she ended up here shaking and bleeding, after all, isn’t it?
His penance for failing Sarah is a life sentence, but Ellie’s still here, in the flesh and breathing (he thanks the god he’s never believed in). She needs him present more than he needs to hate himself. There’s a future full of self-loathing stretching out ahead of him - time for that later. For now he just needs to get her safe.  
“We need to leave, baby,” he says, clearing his throat as it strains from the lack of use. He feels the urgency as the words leave his mouth – they don’t stand much of a chance if more men are coming after them, and though he’d die before he let anything (else) happen to her, who would be left to take care of her then? He pulls back from holding her to look at her face again, eyes tracking over the hollow look in her eyes and the fresh blood splattered on her skin. He’s never seen anyone who needs to be taken care of more.
“Are you hurt? Can you walk?” He waits a moment for an answer that he knows isn’t coming. Ellie’s little fingers twist and pinch on the sleeves of his jacket as she holds onto his arms, but she’s still standing. He sees the moment the shakiness that he felt running through her body moves from invisible to visible, and on instinct he quickly slips off his pack, shrugging off his jacket to wrap around her. She’s swimming in it.
“I’ve got you, honey, let’s go,” he says as he shifts to her side, wrapping his arm around her as he begins moving through the snow. Walking again makes the ache in his side throb angrily and he clenches his teeth to keep from groaning out loud.
Ellie starts shuffling along next to him, thank fuck – he’s sure he couldn’t carry her now – but she’s unsteady. After a few steps she falls against his side, leaning her weight against him like she can’t stand on her own. He hates that he’s so weak he feels his body start to do the same. His brain conjures up an image of the skyline as they left the Boston QZ so long ago – two crumbling buildings fallen inward, holding each other in place.
Ellie stumbles and he tightens his arm around her to keep her upright. She makes a noise, half choking and half swallowing, sounding like the air is being pushed out of her lungs. 
“It’s ok, I’ve got you,” he keeps saying. It’s all he can offer. “I’m here.” It’s not enough.
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Going back along the road towards the suburbs seemed like a death sentence – they're moving so slowly, and clearly the area was within the boundaries of where the group they’re running from was willing to go. If anyone was coming after them it would be the first place they’d look. But the longer they push forward with nothing in sight the more he’s convinced he's made a mistake that will kill them.
It's near silent in the aftermath of the snowstorm, and it’s rough going along the edge of the woods with patches of snowdrifts occasionally blown so high they nearly have to climb their way over. They’ve both sunk down half way up their shins more than a few times and their wet jeans are freezing against their skin.
He doesn’t know how they’re still going. They’ve been moving for hours.
The only noise is the occasional whistle of the wind, and it’s not enough to cover up their heavy breathing and slow, shuffling steps crunching through the snow. It makes it obvious when Ellie starts to flag, the cadence of her steps shifting as her feet start to shuffle and drag more than stepping, and he tries to swallow down swelling, suffocating dread as he scans around them for somewhere to rest. Time is running out – the sun, he’s horrified to acknowledge, has started to dip behind the tree line. He’s hurting more intensely the longer they walk, and he’s sure Ellie is too. Her breath is coming in pants and whines – she sounds so young he aches.
When snow starts to fall again around them, softly first and then steadily picking up, he fights back the urge to start screaming.
They’re fucking doomed – their bodies are running on empty. They’ll stumble soon and find they can’t get up, and he won’t be able to do anything at all other than pull Ellie close to him as they wait to freeze to death. No sooner has the thought crossed his mind than Ellie crumples at the knees and his mind goes empty with terror. He tries to squeeze in the arm around her when he realizes she’s sinking but he’s too slow. She thumps down hard onto her knees on the ground and is only spared from ending up face first in the snow by the way her upper body slams sideways into Joel’s legs.
“M’ sorry,” she’s mumbling, he realizes in horror as he drops down with her and grabs her shoulders to stop her from collapsing. His wound is fucking ripping as he kneels. He tries to soothe her as she keeps trying to get words out.
“Sorry, I ca- I –” seems to be all she can manage before she falls back into silence. Her teeth are chattering and she’s weakly grabbing onto his pants as if to pull herself up, even as her lower body remains motionless. She’s too weak, too tired. She’s done. 
Joel takes a breath, and then another, and another. His vision is tunnelling as he drowns in the fear. This can’t be it.
“Gotta get up, baby, we can’t stop here, gotta get you somewhere warm,” he’s saying, knowing damn well that no such place is around. Ellie closes her eyes and leans her head into him like she’s falling asleep. An angry sob catches in his throat. 
He closes his eyes and leans his face down into the top of her head, breathing her in and out, sliding his numb fingers into her hair to hold her tight against him again, and looks around asking a miracle.
And finds one.
From the slightly lower vantage point, he can see just a few feet further into the trees, below the bottom branches of a cluster of pine trees, and there it is, undeniably - wood. Pressure treated. It looks like the edge of – a porch?
He shifts sideways to see more and really tests the limits of the stitches in his side – fuck, fuck, fuck – and he’s flooded with relief. It’s not a porch – just a couple wooden steps, leading up to what has to be the bottom of a door. A cabin? It can’t be more than 50 feet away.
“Ellie, look,” he croaks out, and she doesn’t move. He points. “Look, there’s a building – we just gotta get there and we can rest, ok?”
For a moment he thinks she’s still not responding, and she doesn’t turn to look where he’s pointing, but he feels a small nod as she moves her head, and she mumbles a quiet “’Kay” into his shirt.
He’s breathless with pride – she’s so goddamn tough, the strongest person he’s ever met – and the fresh surge of adrenaline is enough for him to stand and tug her up on wobbly legs, to tuck her back into his side and move them forward, foot by shaky foot, moving away from their almost-grave in the snow.
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working on transferring from ao3 to here but here's the ao3 link if you want more now - updates regularly on ao3 (36 ch so far!)
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americaisdead · 8 months
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los angeles. august 2023
© tag christof
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Snow, Stacks and EMDs by Don Kalkman Via Flickr: Wisconsin Central train 142 was rolling into the tiny village of Silver Lake behind SD45 6630 on a cold but sunny day in 1997. Trailing the WC motor was a former Algoma Central SD40-2 which one day would be repainted into WC colors before CN discarded it after their takeover of this quirky regional railroad.
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recursive360 · 2 months
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Melissa Auf der Maur & Hand of Doom - Paranoid
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robsimons · 3 months
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Silver Lake
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stuph-i-like · 4 months
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Pregnant mother at the lake
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