#window valence

[newtonlara]

Los Angeles Transitional Dining Room Enclosed dining room - mid-sized transitional medium tone wood floor and brown floor enclosed dining room idea with beige walls

[anthromimicry]

here's an oddly specific headcanon for you guys today because this has oddly been on my mind for a while, and i have to share it with someone before it leaves my mind!! but here it is: i like to think that, despite hardly EVER using her kitchen, that it is arguably the cleanest and nicest room that misao has in her house. like... i guess it could be because the kitchen is so integral to most families as a ' hang-out ' spot, i guess you could call it, and she really wants to keep up this illusion of being just as normal as anyone else and maybe — JUST maybe — she also keeps it this clean because she's hoping that she'll be able to spend some time with someone in it someday? her kitchen is also pink, by the way, but not obnoxiously so as she does have like some red / green / white mixed in with it but her cabinets... you better bet that they are the cutest darn cabinets you might have ever seen in your life because misao may or may not have gone a little overboard with decorating it. but yeah, it's both a little sad to think about and also strangely endearing because on the outside, misao doesn't really seem like the type of person who would have pink in her house but yes. she integrated it into her kitchen and i love her for it + she does in fact have two seats at her dining room table because she's hoping that one day, she'll be able to build up the courage to actually try to find ryuuji as well as apologize to him for leaving him when he needed her and they can sit at that table together just in comfortable silence together at one point. but yeahhh... misao also has, like, little animal trinkets around her kitchen shaped like insects that also serve uses. so, that's also pretty cool, i suppose.

[francophilesuniverse]

Guest Baltimore Bedroom - large transitional guest bedroom idea with green walls

[prx2012]

Children in Raleigh Example of a mid-sized classic boy carpeted kids' room design with blue walls

[hellyeahkaito]

New York Bedroom Guest Example of a mid-sized transitional guest carpeted and gray floor bedroom design with gray walls and no fireplace

[hairbymetalmoose]

Sun Room - Traditional Sunroom

Inspiration for a mid-sized timeless carpeted sunroom remodel

[enticinglycute]

Traditional Wine Cellar New York Large traditional wine cellar design idea

[silly-drawings-by-sugar]

Sun Room - Traditional Sunroom Mid-sized elegant medium tone wood floor sunroom photo with no fireplace and a standard ceiling

[birdcageromance]

Guest (Baltimore)

[cumbersir]

Raleigh Family Room Music Room

[albatris]

hewwo

I deleted the opening of rentalcar from tumblr months ago when all the ai nonsense happened but now it's back again because I'm me. it's fresh and edited! and shorter

here's the new chapter one for your viewing pleasure. enjoy! or don't. don't let me tell you how to live your life I'm not your mum

hi taglist hello - some of you have already read this! I hope you're having a nice day though 😎

@transmasc-wizard @saturn-iidae @polyaubergine @tracle0 @goosemixtapes @valence-positive @the-one-who-makes-negative-noise @ambiguousfiction @afoolandathief @silverwarewolf @mecharose @vellichor-virgo @plasticseaslug @jetstargenderfuckery @multi-lefaiye @writeouswriter @junoshusband @writing-is-a-martial-art @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @sleepycaprine @cream-and-tea @gailynovelry @lefttigerobservation @indecentpause @writingsfromspace @carnivalls @violetfoxsketches @approximately20eggs @mohluskiepedard @desastreus @kk7-rbs @cee-grice @northwyrm @xylophonicsynapse @careful-pyromancer @recapitulation @incandescent-creativity @whole-buncha-snakess @mysticalalleycat @thatonecrowguy @va-nila-bean @televisionjester @excessive-vampires @walkman-cat @davycoquette @xenascribbles

tw for paranoia, anxiety, hallucinations, swearing, general feelings of unease

Nat Finch blinked awake.

He was slumped forward in the driver’s seat of his rental car, his forehead pressed to the steering wheel, his body aching like he hadn’t moved in centuries. His feet were bare. His throat burned. His head throbbed. Curled over his shoulders was the familiar softness of the blanket from his back seat, the one he’d been meaning to give to the Larsons for two weeks now. A deep night breeze leaked through the slightly-open window to his right, the cold gnawing at the dampness that clung to his clothes, to his face and hair. He felt filthy, filmy, disgusting—more so than usual.

A muddle of memories and flickers and voices fought for space in his brain, bumping up against each other and overlapping, threads escaping every time he thought he’d grasped one. He was overcome, for a single surreal moment, by the sense he had just awoken from an exceedingly peculiar dream.

Nat Finch sat up, groaning.

Disturbed by the motion, plastic crinkled in his lap. A collection of granola bars was scattered over him, a few of them having tumbled down onto the seat next to him and the floor below. Like someone had dumped them unceremoniously over his head and just… left him like that.

He recognised the brand, vaguely—something hoity-toity and ridiculous he’d seen at the supermarket, fifteen dollars a goddamn box—but they weren’t something that had any business being anywhere near him. His bank balance barely scraped double digits at the moment.

“Who the fuck…” Nat paused, not sure what question he was even supposed to be asking. “Why the fuck…”

His attention edged upwards, to a scrap of cardboard folded neatly in two and perched atop his dashboard.

DO YOUR BEST! it read in a childlike handwritten scrawl.

Nat squinted harder. “What the fuck.”

He tried to think. His brain, sluggish and laden with fog and aching, refused to provide any context for the mystery shower of nutrition. Or the note.

Or… anything else, for that matter. He didn’t remember falling asleep; he didn’t remember stopping his car. He remembered leaving work, but it had barely been dusk when he’d left work and the trip from Stop ‘N’ Go to his apartment was fifteen minutes, tops.

It was not dusk anymore. The black outside was the pure solitude of the witching hour and the world beyond his window was silent, save for the buzz and pop of a single faulty streetlight a few metres ahead and the chittering gossip of crickets. No people. No cars. No movement.

Nat’s dread climbed. He craned his neck and strained to decipher his whereabouts. The lonely light offered only flimsy, spluttering illumination—some of it splashing into his car, some of it into dry grass and mesh fence lining the side of the road, most of it merely into the rumble of gravel directly beneath it. He had no idea where he was. He had no idea why he was where he was.

The disco ball hanging from his rear-view mirror glittered at him, blinking urgently.

He shoved the granola bars off himself, suddenly feeling contaminated. A strident, pulsating pain forked through every inch of his body at the movement—he gritted his teeth, letting out a hiss and a wince. The blanket went next, ripped from his shoulders and hurled at the opposing window in a multicoloured flurry. It crumpled to the passenger seat and Nat stared at it, prickling all over with the suspicion someone else had placed it on him. Someone else had been here. Watching. Leaning. Looming. Touching. His hand flew to the window winder and wound it, sealing the opening. Sealing himself in and the outside out.

And then he sat still, mind reeling, chest tight. Panic twisting in his stomach. He waited for his brain to kick over, for his memory to rush back, for the moment he shook free the dregs of post-sleep disorientation and went, Oh, that’s right! That’s why I’m here! That’s what’s going on! How could I have forgotten?

A minute passed.

And another.

Frozen.

Rigid.

Nat swallowed, hard. Nothing clicked into place. Nothing clicked and nothing clicked and nothing clicked. Why not? He’d left work and turned left down Rake Street like he always did. He’d done nothing out of the ordinary.

The night outside was alive. With every flicker-out of the streetlight, the dark whined at his window, still trying to reach him. A tapping, a whistling, a whispering in its own made-up language. Nat. Nat. Nat. Something’s wrong. Nathaniel. Something’s wrong. The dark that should not have been there. The dark that should have been dusk.

He'd lost hours. Hours. What the hell had happened to him? The note on his dashboard sat there, smirking. It knew things he didn’t.

Nat fought to breathe in.

Nat fought to breathe out.

Nat breathed in.

Nat breathed out.

Five things he could see were that gaudy leopard-print steering wheel cover, the smeared windscreen from too-old wipers, the radio, the hazard switch, his own hands, crusted in cracked, dried mud.

Four things he could feel were the press of the seat under him, the press of his work uniform over him, the sting of the cold on his feet, pain, pain, pain.

Three things he could hear were crickets and streetlights and dark.

Two things he could smell were the dull citrus hum of the vent-clip air freshener and the fact it was doing nothing to hide the fact he hadn’t showered in a while.

One thing he could taste was—

Okay, okay, alright. Okay. That would do it. Nat breathed in. Nat breathed out. Calm. Calm. Calm.

He reached gingerly for the ignition, exhaling in relief when he grasped the key still inside. He had that, at least. He hesitated, perched on an agonising threshold between hopeful anticipation and whatever reality was about to find him.

He turned the key.

Nothing.

He turned again.

Nothing. The car stuttered and clicked uselessly, refusing to start. Relief left him as quickly as it had arrived. Flat battery.

Nat breathed, “Ah, fuck.”

Nat breathed in.

Nat breathed out.

He twisted towards the back seat, feeling along the faux leather for his work backpack. He hauled it to himself and rammed an arm inside to seek his phone, shoving through a jumble of familiar shapes—notebook, hoodie, empty soft drink can for recycling, empty soft drink can for recycling, gum, nametag—ah, there it was.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Nat whined, his finger colliding with the power button. “Please, please, please—”

Nothing. Flat battery.

Nat breathed in.

Nat plonked his forehead back down on the steering wheel and released a long, agonised wail.

Simmering anxiety climbed into roiling terror. Terror branched sideways into paranoia. Paranoia bloomed up through his chest and into his throat, where it squeezed tight and threatened to choke him. He’d lost hours. Anything could have happened to him. Anything could have been done to him.

The dark outside mocked and laughed. The disco ball blinked its rhythmic little warnings. He could feel it all, even when he wasn’t looking.

Nathaniel. Something’s wrong. Nathaniel.

“No shit,” he muttered back.

What next?

He lifted his head and flipped the sun visor down to look at himself in the mirror. With no phone screen and no overhead light to guide him, it was hard to get a full picture. He tilted his head, twisted his neck, attempted to catch himself on some jittering streetlight. He snagged a few glimpses—a dribble of blood from a presumably cracked lip here, a smudge of dirt on a cheekbone there. The collar of his shirt looked bloody, too. His hair wasn’t sitting right, tangled black all caked together and hanging in thick clumps. Two trembling hands lifted, the quiver partially from weakness and partially from fear, and Nat gripped at his face. Tugging along those familiar edges and curves and juts, finding them not so familiar. Finding them wrong. Hollow. Caved in. His fingertips wandered down towards his jaw—

—and along the thick, uneven mumbling of stubble that hadn’t been there when he’d left the apartment that morning.

Nat’s heartbeat tripped up. He hadn’t lost hours.

He’d lost days.

Nat breathed in. And in. And in. Not enough. Too fast. His chest heaved. His lungs refused to fill.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no. He couldn’t have lost days. He couldn’t have lost days. Jesus Christ, Nat had never been the shining poster child of mental health, but he’d never lost days. He’d been God knew where for God knew how long. He’d been—his feet were bare, his hands and face were streaked with mud, someone had clearly been messing around in his car—he’d been taken. Drugged. Kidnapped. That scribbled note? Do your best? He was being toyed with, probably by some deranged serial killer. And what was with the granola bars? Some kind of clue? A message?

He had to go. Run. Get help. Something close to a whimper climbed up his throat and fell from his lips. His hand crept to the door handle and stopped.

He’d seen horror movies. Not many, but enough. The chase, the hunt, the twisted mind games before the inevitable kill… these were part of the fun. There was probably someone watching him right now, folded into the shadows and out of sight, waiting for him to panic. Waiting for him to make his first mistake and step outside.

Waiting for him to start the game.

He couldn’t leave.

He couldn’t stay.

Could he stay? Could he just wait it out? Someone would find him. Someone would look for him. Someone would look for him, right?

No, no one would look for him. No one would care enough that he was gone.

No, there was no way they’d let him wait this out, whoever they were. They would find some way to lure him out, drive him out, force him into the waiting hands of the night air. Unprotected. Alone. All at once Nat felt a million eyes boring into him, leering from beyond the black, drinking in his every move. He shoved himself lower in his seat, clutching his dead phone to his chest.

Nat fought to breathe in.

Nat fought to breathe out.

He tried a final time to reason with himself.

When he’d worked twelve hour shifts four days straight, he’d started being dogged by the idea that someone had snuck a microscopic tracking device into his takeaway pizza, which he had subsequently consumed. When he’d been behind on rent for the third fortnight in a row, he’d become fixated on the idea that other customers in the supermarket were reading his thoughts and laughing at him. Look at this fucking loser. Grimy hair and track pants. Can’t even afford instant ramen.

Panic and stress tended to climb on top of him bit by bit. Panic and stress tended to twist all kinds of everyday events into all kinds of unnatural, terrifying shapes. It was normal. Even the tiny, audible hints of speech pushing through the dark, giving voice to his anxiety, those were normal under the right circumstances. It was all… no, not normal. It was a pattern. Tomorrow, he’d be fine. Tomorrow, he’d understand he’d never been in any danger.

So even though he was here now, helpless and stranded in the empty night, barefoot and filthy, abandoned by his memories and surrounded by leering scrawled words and fucking rich-people granola bars—he had to take this moment of clarity and hold it tight.

Tomorrow, this would all make sense.

DO YOUR BEST! the dark around him sang.

“Go to hell,” Nat spat.

And with that, he wrenched the door open.

[kazutorabora]

— hanemiya kazutora playlist headcanons ͙͘͡★

⚰️ - requests open

🦇 - what i imagine kazutoras playlist would be like

————————————————————————————

playlist link :

↠ striptease - carwash

↠ Throne - Bring Me The Horizon

↠ Sarcasm - Get Scared

↠ Who are you? - Bad Omens

↠ Dethrone - Bad Omens

↠ In the End - Linkin Park

↠ Lost in Echoes - Caskets

↠ Miracle - Bad Omens

↠ Like a Villain

↠ Meddle About - Chase Atlantic

↠ Kick Me - Sleeping With Sirens

↠ Daddy Issues - The Neighbourhood

↠ Shadows - Pastel Ghost

↠ Teenagers - My Chemical Romance

↠ Nobody - Mitski

↠ Hold On Till May - Pierce The Veil

↠ I Can’t Handle Change - Roar

↠ Looking Out for You - Joy Again

↠ Punk Tactics - Joey Valence & Brae

↠ Romantic Homicide - d4vd

↠ Gilded Lily - Cults

↠ Cigarettes out the Window - TV Girl

↠ She Likes Another Boy - Oscar Lang

↠ The Other Woman - Lana Del Rey

↠ A Match Into Water - Pierce The Veil

↠ Caraphernelia - Pierce The Veil

↠ Change - Deftones

↠ Skeleton - Pastel Ghost

↠ The Beach - The Neighbourhood

↠ Unfair - The Neighbourhood

[ i will definitely add more songs, song requests are appreciated <3 ]

— tags 🏷️

[fourthage]

Made a valence with my mom this morning. Patterns have gotten really bad in terms of instructions. We used the pieces as directed for the width of my window and it was too small. We improvised and added the ribbon on either end to widen it, and I think I like the look better anyway. I have a lot of the fabric left and am thinking maybe I’ll make a bedspread with it because it’s so pretty.

Productivity complete, I can now indulge myself in the newest trails series game that came out today! It’s in a completely different area than the previous games and supposedly the beginning of the second half of the overall story arc. So my favorites are unlikely to even have cameos, but Renne might pop up since one of the bonus stories from the last game put her in the area.

[g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e]

｡⁠☆Aot characters as song☆｡

｡⁠☆Levi Ackerman☆｡

Gilded lily - Cults

Fourth of July - Sufjan Stevens

I'm tired - Labyrinth, Zendaya

Cry - cigarettes after sex

Wicked game - Chris Isaak

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｡⁠☆Hange Zoe☆｡

Captain save a hoe - E-40

Why didn't you stop me - mitski

Wicked games - Chris Isaak

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｡⁠☆Erwin Smith☆｡

Untrust us - Crystal castles

PRIDE. - Kendrick Lamar

Smells Blood - Kensuke Ushio

O Children - Nick cave & Bad seeds

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｡⁠☆Eren Yaeger☆｡

Dark red - Steve Lacey

Watching him fade away - Mac Demarco

Exit music(for a film) - Radiohead

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS - Tyler, the creator

Wicked game - Chris Isaak

O Children - Nick cave & Bad seeds

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｡⁠☆Mikasa Ackerman☆｡

Kerosene - Crystal castles

Liquid smooth - Mitski

He needs me - Shelley duvall

Using you - Mars argo

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｡⁠☆Armin Arlert☆｡

Step on me - The Cardigans

My Alcoholic Friends - The Dresden Dolls

Beauty is empty - Mars argo

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｡⁠☆Annie Leonhart☆｡

Daddy issues - The Neighborhood

Child Psychology - Black Box Recorder

Girl Anachronism - The Dresden Dolls

Softcore - The Neighborhood

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｡⁠☆Bertholdt Hoover☆｡

Romantic homicide - d4ad

Softcore - The Neighborhood

Lights are on - Tom Rosenthal

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｡⁠☆Reiner Braun☆｡

Crack baby - Mitski

Better than me - The Brobecks

Softcore - The Neighborhood

Daddy issues - The Neighborhood

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｡⁠☆Zeke Yaeger☆｡

You can be the boss - Lana Del Rey

Daddy issues - The Neighborhood

Cigarettes out the window - TV Girl

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｡☆Porco Galliard☆｡

Dead but pretty - IC3SPEAK

Spit in my face - ThxSoMch

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｡⁠☆Ymir☆｡

Mary - Alex g

Good looking - Suki Waterhouse

Child Psychology - Black Box Recorder

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｡⁠☆Historia Reiss☆｡

Who is she - I monster

Class of 2013 - Mitski

Step on me - The Cardigans

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｡⁠☆Jean Kistein☆｡

Spit in my face - ThxSoMch

Better than me - The Brobecks

You can be the boss - Lana Del Rey

No Surprises - Radiohead

----------------------------------------------------------

｡⁠☆Connie Springer☆｡

Class of 2013 - Mitski

Francis Forever - Mitski

Watching him fade away - Mac Demarco

WASTE - kxllswxtch

Malmo - Mook

----------------------------------------------------------

｡⁠☆Sasha Braus☆｡

7 weeks & 3 days - yungatita

For the first time - Mac Demarco

Lights are on - Tom Rosenthal

Wicked game - Chris Isaak

----------------------------------------------------------

｡⁠☆Marco Bodt☆｡

I Bet on losing dogs - Mitski

----------------------------------------------------------

｡⁠☆Gabi braun☆｡

Punk tactics - Joey Valence & Brae

Softcore - The Neighborhood

Girl Anachronism - The Dresden Dolls

----------------------------------------------------------

｡⁠☆Falco Grice☆｡

For the first time - Mac Demarco

Mrs Magic - Strawberry Guy

What would I do? - Strawberry Guy

----------------------------------------------------------

｡⁠☆Pieck Finger☆｡

Softcore - The Neighborhood

Mary - Alex g

He needs me - Shelley duvall

Beauty is empty - Mars argo

----------------------------------------------------------

｡⁠☆Yelena☆｡

Mary on a cross - Ghost

Swimming pool - Marie Madeleine

Child Psychology - Black Box Recorder

Liquid smooth - Mitski

----------------------------------------------------------

｡⁠☆Dina Fritz☆｡

The other woman - Lana Del Rey

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Reiner - Bertholdt - Annie - teen titans go

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Erwin x levi - butch 4 butch

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Mikasa x Eren - Dangerously yours x cigarettes out the window

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Ymir x historia - lovers rock

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2:26 2023/02/11

☆ Playlist ☆

[welcometoelliotstable]

Songs from my playlist that I think fit the main six:

New York:

“I Can’t Decide” by the Scissor Sisters

“Punk Tactics” by Joey Valence and Brae

“Dumb Dumb” by Mazie

“Kill Bill” by SZA

“Cannibal” by Naethan Apollo

“Do What I Gotta” by Naethan Apollo

“Hayloft” and “Hayloft ||” by Mother Mother

California:

“Pity Party” by Melanie Martinez

“Happy Face” by Jaguar Twin

“Cry Baby” by Melanie Martinez

“One Day” by Lovejoy

“Call Me What You Like” by Lovejoy

“愛して愛して愛して” by Kikuo

“Line Without a Hook” by Ricky Monetgomery

“Juliet” by Cavetown

“Boys Will Be Bugs” by Cavetown

“Home” by Cavetown

“Sorry For Me” by Ricky Montgomery

Florida:

“Hidden in the Sand” by Tally Hall

“Cell Block Tango” by Catherine Zeta Jones

“Turn The Lights Off” Tally Hall

“Villain” by Stella Jang

“Person In The Mirror” by Naethan Apollo

“All you wanna do” from SIX

“Anti-hero” by Taylor Swift

“Michelle” by Sir Chloe

“Cause For Concern” by Lovejoy

“Taunt” by Lovejoy

“Misery CPR”

Louisiana:

“Hidden in the Sand” by Tally Hall

“Cause For Concern” by Lovejoy

“Misery CPR”

“Stacy’s Brother” by Mad Tsai

“Que Bonito Fue” by El David (imagining him singing it about Florida <3)

“Lemon Boy” by Cavetown

“Hell Of A Ride” by Bo Burnham

“Style” by Taylor Swift

“Don’t lose your head” from SIX

Gov:

“Tired” by beabadoobee

“My R” by Lollia

“Heaven 2 Hell” by Black Gryph0n

“Oh no!” By Marina

“PUPPET BOY” by DEVO

“Concrete” by Lovejoy

“Waving Through A Window” from Dear Evan Hansen

“Girl Scout” from Beetlejuice

“Dollhouse” by Melanie Martinez

“Pacify Her” by Melanie Martinez

“Happy Face” by Jaguar Twin

“The Family Jewels” by Marina

Texas:

“Darkside” by Neoni

“Sexyback” by Justin Timberlake

“Little miss perfect” by Write Out Loud

“Take me to church” by Hozier

The Spotify playlist most of these songs are from:

[ginandoldlace]

The Church of St Giles in Goodrich, Herefordshire is a medieval church with a dramatic spire and close links to Goodrich Castle.

The church was originally founded in the 13th century, tied to the expansion of nearby Goodrich Castle. The much of the current structure was built in the 14th century, including the striking spire. The north aisle is of near equal size to the undivided nave and chancel, separated by an arcade simple pillars with round and octagonal capitals.

Beneath the eastern most arcade is a truncated medieval chest tomb. Separating the chancel and small chapel in the north aisle, it is thought to be the tomb of Richard Talbot or Joan de Valence, dating from around 1300. The tomb was moved and adjusted in the 18th and 19th centuries to fit in new pews.

The church was restored in the 1870s by John Pollard Seddon. The Victorian interior features extensive wainscoting, decorated with linenfold panelling. The extensive stained glass is late 19th and early 20th century, with the east window by Hardman (5th photo) and several other Arts and Crafts style pieces.