“I wanted to shoot at night because I feel that L.A. changes drastically from night to day. There’s this quietness that L.A. has when it’s dark that is really nice,” photographer Vicky Moon says. “It’s like you can finally have a conversation with the city without having to shout.”
if you guys would like to support me or simply get some merch, you can buy them at my storenvy <3 (to buy an item, select the category first before clicking on the item… or else it won’t work i think) //and there’s also a weird glitch too idk TTvTT problem is fixed now! you can buy any items on the storefront without doing anything fancy <3
I’ll be selling buttons, (new) acrylic charm keychains, postcards, greeting cards and (very old) stickers! (some of the items will not be restocked after selling out)
I’m also really excited to sell these new yoi acrylic charms that I got from @acornpress ! //they’ve been sitting in my room since march ahaha and I didn’t know I had to peel the blue thing off until months later *7* but they turned out really well ;v; //first time making acrylic charms
I’ll also be ordering new postcards of my recent art soon, so there will be that too <3
In the future, I’ll also be attending conventions (hOPEFULLY) (one of my biggest dreams) as a con artist and selling some merch there too ( * 0 * ) there will probably be more discounts there rather than on my shop ;7; //so far the first big convention I would like to attend is anime north 2018 with hopefully @shelliihe bUT they might change the AGE LIMIT AGAIN and I’ll have to wait even longer OTL //hopefully I qualify this year lmao
reader almost gets bit on a run and Daryl is furious with her. They get back to
the prison and she asks him to teach her a thing or two about self-defense
against walkers and people. Sweaty training ends in rough smut, Daryl style. ;)
You hear the gates of the prison opening, one by one, as you
sit in the car with Rick and Michonne, waiting to leave the prison and go to a
town nearby to gather supplies. You wipe your hands up and down your jeans a
few times and take a few deep breathes, trying to calm your nerves. This was
the first run you had gone on with Rick’s group and you were nervous as hell,
but you wanted to prove your worth to the group.
Rick and Daryl had rescued you from a herd of walkers a few
weeks, your group had been overrun by a sudden herd and you had lost everyone,
you thought you were also gone until you saw Rick and Daryl run up to you, with
four walkers nearly on top of you, as they chomped at you, trying to grab your
flesh. The two men easily pulled the walkers off you and smashed their heads
in, using their boots and couple of iron rods in their hands. They had been in
the area looking for supplies at the time they heard you scream. You had never
been so glad to see other people in your life.
After that they offered you a place to stay at the prison,
Rick asked the three questions and you seemed to pass. The past few weeks you
had been lucky enough to have a roof over your head, a safe place to sleep, and
people who actually seemed to be decent human beings. It was like an
out-of-body experience for this world, you were so happy to have found them.
And then there was Daryl, one of the men who had saved you. Daryl was something
so different, you didn’t even know how to describe him. Shy but confident,
tough but sensitive, kind but harsh, he was the kind of man it would take a
lifetime to figure out and you certainly would have no problem with that.
You couldn’t help but notice this confident, yet nervous,
man, every time he was near you. He didn’t say much, but he always seemed to
have twenty things on his mind. You wondered what it would be like to hear all
those thoughts that never escaped his mouth. This run was important to you,
showing the group you could handle yourself. But Daryl? Daryl was more
important, in a world like this, there is no time to sit back and ponder.You wanted to be with him any chance you got.
Your head snaps back to reality as you hear Daryl’s
motorcycle roar to life in front of the truck you rode in. You see Daryl look
back at Rick and nod as he drove forward out of the gates, one by one. Rick
followed him out and you look back, seeing Carl and Sasha quickly closing each
gate behind your entourage. You bite your lip a little feeling the rush of
butterflies again in your stomach. You gripped the knife in your hand tightly,
almost drawing blood, you wince and put the knife back in the holster on your
side, continuing to play with your hands for the drive.
You were just leaving the theatre after a two-show day, exhausted and wrapped up in your jacket, scarf, and hat, when your phone rang. You fumbled for it with already numbing hands, cursing the January cold.
“Hi, this is Y/N L/N speaking,” you said automatically as you hurried along. At least your apartment wasn’t far away- a blessed mercy on days like this.
“Hi Y/N, it’s Lin,” you heard and froze, “do you have a second?”
You had joined Hamilton a month before Lin departed as an ensemble member. He had left long before you became Eliza’s understudy and eventually, alternate on Phillipa’s days off. Lin had come back to the theatre, of course- he lived for it, longed for it, and couldn’t stay away.
You liked him a lot but never thought he’d really noticed you, even when you started performing as Eliza. You certainly didn’t know how he got your number. “Yeah, I have a moment,” you managed to say, forcing yourself to keep moving before you turned into an icicle or a snowman, “What do you need, Lin?”
A group of drunk college students shoved past you and you glared at them. “I’m doing a Heights reunion,” he told you, “just for a week. Five shows.”
You let out an involuntary squeal. “I want tickets,” you insisted. Everyone in the Hamilton cast knew In the Heights- how could you not? You sang Vanessa’s “It won’t be long now’ as a warm up for a month after you first heard the music and you had seen videos of the ham4ham where Lin decided to perform Carneval del Barrio.
You hurried into your apartment building, sighing in relief at the warmth. “That’s the thing,” Lin said, “Karen is busy.”
“No!” you gasped. Karen, once Lin’s Vanessa, had come backstage on Hamilton once while you were there. She was stunning in her intellect, her beauty, and her talent. “What will you do?”
You fumbled for your key with your free hand while you waited for Lin to answer. “Actually,” he said eventually, “I was hoping you’d take on the role.”
“What?” your mouth fell open. “What?” You dropped your keys in your haste to get inside and sit down, but left them in favour of listening to Lin.
He chuckled at your surprise. “I want you to be Vanessa, Y/N.”
“I’m Eliza,” you said stupidly.
“Lexi would handle that,” Lin promised, “just while you were gone.”
You picked up your keys, unlocked your apartment, and headed inside, not really registering anything you were doing.
“Y/N?” Lin said after a moment, “I can ask someone else if you’d rather not-”
“Course I want to,” you interrupted, “I just had to process it first.” You headed into your room and opened your laptop, looking for your In the Heights tracks.
Lin sighed in relief. “Great! I’ll have someone send you the details.”
“Thanks,” you said sincerely and said your goodbyes. You hung up and collapsed onto your bed, unable to stop grinning. You would be Vanessa! You would sing her easy confidence and her desire to move up in the world.
Suddenly restless, you got up and clicked shuffle on the In the Heights albums. You spun around- you would sing 96,000 and It won’t be long now and-
“So I got you a present-”
And champagne. Champagne. You couldn’t believe you had forgotten it. Of course, you kissed your Alexander multiple times onstage most days but you knew him. You barely knew Lin, never mind why on earth he would choose you for Vanessa over Phillipa or Jasmine.
You shuffled to the next track and put it out of your mind. You could do this.
Cas gripped the steering wheel. The year was 2033, and he was going to Kansas.
He found it odd that he had begun to refer to himself using that nickname - millions of years of being Castiel, Angel of the Lord, and now, he was simply Cas.
He supposed that was thanks to Dean.
Dean. Cas felt a familiar pang in his chest. The nature of emotion never ceased to fascinate the angel, and he had found that grief was quite a peculiar experience. It had been more than a decade since he had lost the Winchesters, but the wound he felt was just as deep and painful as it was in the weeks after their deaths - although, admittedly, not as jarring, nor nearly as debilitating.
He reached over to take one of the cassette tapes from the box next to him. It was Let It Bleed, by the Stones, an album he had taken a liking to in the past months. Cas relaxed into the seat as Keith Richards started up on guitar.
Those weeks were tough. They were drenched in hard liquor and heartbreak, minutes moving like hours, hours feeling like days, and all seemed to be lost as Cas watched his friends’ ashes waft up into the night sky. All he could do was heed their word, to let them go. Cas had watched how the Winchesters tore themselves apart, time after time, sacrificing themselves to save one another, and how each time it rendered them more broken, more weary, and he understood that it would need to be him that broke the cycle, and let them rest. But it was so, so very hard.
If it weren’t for Jodi, he could easily still be walking along that highway with a bottle of Jack in his hand. However, Jodi had found him, taken him under her wing, and given him a place to stay during those first few months, and it was in the comforts of her home that Cas began to come to terms with the world he was living in - a world without the Winchesters, and everything that would be different because of it.
Nothing could change what had happened, Cas knew that. But, he also knew Earth would be much less safe than it had ever been under the care of Sam and Dean.
He had no idea where a wayward angel fell into this new equation, but Dean had told him to keep fighting, and that had given Cas purpose. With the keys to the Impala and a clean set of clothes, Cas had set out in search for a niche in which he could best serve humanity.
In a way, it felt as if he had gone full circle - he began his journey a guardian of humans, and, he supposed he would end it the same way. Although, he lacked the direction that supplied that young and foolish Castiel. He found he was no better at hunting than the last time he had tried, and no amount of practice and training seemed to alter that fact; teaming up with other hunters seemed to worsen his performance, and those hunters never seemed to welcome his presence anyways. He was left, once again, feeling entirely useless. A couple of years of fruitless attempts at hunting passed before Cas came up with the idea. And when it came to him, he felt entirely stupid for not thinking of it before - here he was, living in an underground facility filled to the brim with information on every supernatural thing that existed anywhere in the world, and he was doing nothing with it.
So, after reading every journal, manuscript, book and letter in the bunker, Cas found himself an old storefront in Chicago and got to work. Behind what looked like a quaint little bookstore, Cas fashioned a stronghold - and filled it with the catalogs of the Men of Letters, creating the first supernatural library American hunters had ever seen - giving those hunters access to immeasurably valuable lore and knowledge which had been out of reach for centuries. Cas was pretty proud of himself for that, despite knowing Dean wouldn’t be crazy about the angel becoming a librarian.
He smiled, watching the familiar roads unfold in front of him. It was funny, how a loved one seemed to cement themselves into your subconscious. Before, he found most everything reminded him of them, and in particular, Dean. An article in the newspaper, faces in the crowd, a brand of beer in the Quik-E-Mart, all used to trigger flashbacks, waves of emotion, guilt. But now, it was different. Little things reminded him of Dean - the smell of clean leather, the green on the trees in the summer, how Claire took every opportunity to make a pop culture reference. Dean had even found a place in cas’s head, a soft voice that never missed a chance to gently point out when he was being an idiot, and remind him what mattered, and why he was still fighting.
He couldn’t say he had moved on, nor did he believe he ever would. But, as for right now, he was pretty sure he knew the way.
Boxes rattled around in the back seat as Cas drove to Lebanon, Kansas, to retrieve some files on Rugaroos desperately needed by a hunter in Michigan. The radio blasted classic rock as the Impala cruised down an old country highway.
Cas gripped the steering wheel. The year was 2033, and he was going home.
no matter which city she’s in, she feels right at home surrounded by lights and noise and people
she loves to explore the quainter downtown areas and take pictures in front of the graffiti riddled walls
her favorite thing to do is go to thrift stores and buy bright orange sweaters and patchwork overalls and battered old loafers that are perfectly worn in
gansey can hardly keep up with her and henry as they race around the cities from block to block, ogling at every old storefront, making fun of the ridiculous advertisements for high end designers like why are those shoes in an ostrich egg? why does that purse have more feathers than chainsaw?
it’s like the vibrant pulse of the city makes its way into blue’s bloodstream and makes her feel electric
bonus: henry gives money to every single homeless person they see and pets every dog they pass
Not to be confusing or anything, but we redressed our old storefront window this afternoon (we have a few tricks up our sleeves, as usual…). We’d already vacated that half of the building (#grilledcheese!) – so having an unexpected excuse to work this window’s magic one last time for an extra special (if mysterious) purpose was the cherry on top of a pretty stellar week… (#NOTCLOSING!) #makeroomforgrilledcheese #shoplife#windowdressing #minneapolis
Part One Trying to think of a good title for this, let me know if you have any ideas.
The drive back was like any other you had made. Zepp had moved to the back seat to lay down and you had switched back and forth between your playlists and the radio, lost in thought and lost in the words of the songs. Time seemed to pass quickly and before you knew it you were back in your small town. It was the middle of the night, the street lights lit up the barren sidewalks, the old brick storefronts were dark, and as you drove on further you saw all the homes were dark. Everyone was sleeping and in peace, the one goal that you had strove for in this lonely life.
Far out past the main streets and the houses was your home. The house had been in your family since the late 1800’s, when they founded the town. It’s original white wooden structure had been added on to many times as your family grew over the generations, and sat on 10 acres of land, the perimeter fenced in by an iron gate. You made your way down the driveway and pulled in the garage. It was good to be home. “Mi casa es su casa boys,” you greeted them as they got out of the car.
“Nice place,” Dean said eyeing the house. With a quick thanks you opened the door from the garage into the house, leading Zepp and your guests in. You flipped on the lightswitch, illuminating the kitchen. “Let me give you guys a tour,” you walked in front of them. “This, as you can see, is the kitchen…we passed the laundry room as we walked in.” You led them further into the house. “The living room,” the living room was probably your favorite part of your house. The room was large and the walls were lined with bookcases, almost all of them you’ve read. “There’s a bathroom right there,” you pointed around the hall on the opposite side of where you were standing with them, you worked your way up the stairs. “There are seven rooms up here. I’m guessing that you want rooms next to each other, I may be a hunter but I’m sure you don’t trust me enough to stay far apart from each other. The two rooms at the end of the hall share a bathroom, the two right here closest to us don’t have bathrooms connected; they use this one,” you said opening the door you were standing nearest to, showing the bathroom it held, “and the rest have their own. My room is at the other end of this hall right there,” you pointed, “ knock if you need anything.”
“So,” Sam started, “we can pick whatever room we want?” A smile crossed his face, you knew that smile. It was the smile of a hunter that hasn’t gotten their own room in years. You nodded.
“Raid the pantry if you guys want a snack; I can’t promise you’ll find anything good though, haven’t gone to the grocery in three weeks.” With a smile you turned towards your room, whistling for Zepp to come up for bed. You stopped in your tracks when you heard your name, “Hey, (Y/N). Thanks,” Sam said grinning. You nodded your head and went in your room. It was time for a much needed shower.
“What room you taking, Dean?”
“Any room that gives me my own bathroom,” Dean quickly went into a room and closed the door.
“Alright then,” Sam whispered, standing in the hallway by himself.
After trying to sleep for 2 hours Dean finally gave up and got out of bed making his way downstairs to the kitchen. “Shoot,” he stated, “where’s the damn light switch?”
“Here, let me help,” Dean reached for his gun, remembering that it was on the night stand, not in the sweatpant he hastily put on before coming downstairs. The lights came on showing (Y/N) in the pantry, wearing a shirt that was easily two times her size and running shorts, her hair thrown up in a messy bun still damp. She laughed, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Dean finally cracked a smile. “Hungry,” she asked?
“Not really, just needed a drink or something that could help me sleep,” Dean said making his way to the table. (Y/N) gave a faint ‘Ahhh’ and disappeared back into the pantry, coming back out seconds later with a bottle and a bag of chips. “What are you doing up?”
“Couldn’t sleep. Here,” she said setting down the bottle and chips. “Chips for some snacking and good old Russian vodka.” Dean tilted the bottle towards him to get a better look. “Russian huh? Hey where is your sidekick?”
“Zepp is up in my room sleeping. He went to get up when I did but I told him to stay and sleep. And ya, those Russians can make a drink that’ll send a fire down your throat.” She poured some for the both of them.
“Drink up,” you said. And you both did. Dean let out a ‘Woo’ in exclamation.
“Man, you weren’t lying. That stuff is like gasoline, he said reaching to pour more into your cups. “You and that dog are awful close, huh?”
“Yah. He’s all I got. He’s very protective of me, I think that’s a major part of the training my dad did with him before he gave him to me. It’s crazy but, it’s like he’s human. The dog knows every word I say, he listens great.”
“What kind of training did your dad get that enabled him to hunt with you? Seems pretty dangerous for a dog.”
“I’m not really sure. He came back with him after a three or four week trip, trained and ready to get some experience. He can smell hex bags, he’s got sharp teeth to fight with, strong and fast, and he’s bigger than most dogs in his breed.”
“Smell hex bags. No kidding.” You both took another drink. “This house sure is something. No offense, but how’d you get it? Most people in this life don’t have a house, let alone a huge house like this.”
“That’s a whole other story Dean,” you smiled, your family’s story ready on your lips.