I renovated one of @fakehousesrealawesome‘s starter houses! i think it’s really cute!! the little shed at the back is empty and dark atm i was just busting to take some photos (eye roll emoji)
+ excuse the interior atm i just set all the base-furniture down and i’ll probably decorate it tomorrow or next weekend! thankfully the exterior only took about an hour!!
this is eddie’s house for now, idk if ill turn all of this into a legacy kinda thing i’m kinda just spending my long weekend on sims and wanted to share it somewhere (even if i have only 5 followers!!)
Bend to you, and the
measure of my changing love for you
Is that I do not see
you but love you blindly.
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You,
God damn him—both of them. Asra, for existing in the same
impossible space of time as he does while the universe is an age beyond
counting and a size beyond measuring. And Julian, for throwing himself into
another collar he enjoys calling love, like a horse at the end of a whip.
The difference between he and this imaginary horse is, of
course, that Julian loves it: the
sting, the whip, the hand holding it. Put a bit in his mouth, spank him on the
ass, and he’ll whinny if you want.
Neeeiiigh! Now, harder.
“Ilya,” Asra hums, cracking a single eye from where he
dozes against the bark of the willow tree in the garden.
Levy had enough of Natsu and Lucy’s argument by the end of their mission. She decided to solve her problems by trapping her partners’ in a little glass bottle that housed her precious secret garden. With lots of time to kill, Natsu and Lucy must make up, but Lucy has other sensual plans of revenge.
FAHC think themselves kings, call themselves rulers, act like they
built the city, like they did anything but burn it to the ground.
They are a blight upon Los Santos, they are a plague. There’s a
darkness in them, one no one can ignore, a corruption that runs deep
and irredeemable. It must have started somewhere, come from
something, but outsiders can only wonder if it was born from the
crew, spreading out across their domain or if it sunk into them from
the city itself. Some are perceptive enough to blame the leader, to
recognise the way he created this, the way he revels in the
wickedness of his domain, but even they will never know the answer,
never hear the true story of Ramsey’s decent.
grew up on the worst kind of stories of heaven and hell, of sin and
punishment and purgatory. Where glory is sacrifice and pain,
obedience and punishment. Where holy is the carrot you never quite
reach, the stick that reminds you of your place. He grew up making
sacrifice without reward, practicing obedience and still being
punished, looking up for answers and hearing nothing but his own
voice railing against broken promises.
has to give, and give it does; first patience, then forgiveness, then
faith. Then glass bottles and abandoned houses, then Geoff’s
knuckles, someone’s jaw. Someone’s skull. It’s not like Geoff was
looking to be a killer, he didn’t mean to keep crushing the life out
of people, but he couldn’t live in limbo forever and surely there was
no greater test. Surely this was as bad as anyone could be, this of
all things would blacken his soul, and still nothing struck him down.
Still nothing stood in his way. And that was that, really. Because if
you’re going to be bad you may as well be the worst. If you’re going
to fall you might as well plummet. There’s apathy and then there’s
anarchy, and when push comes to shove Geoff has never been an
he plummets, into the darkest corners of the city, into the bloodiest
jobs and nastiest gangs, into the kind of sin that is never forgiven.
The kind that no longer seeks forgiveness. Even when he takes a turn,
cleans up his act and stops rolling around with the lowest of the low
Geoff doesn’t look back. Doesn’t regret. He pulls himself together
but he doesn’t pull himself out, doesn’t even try, just thinks
bigger. Thinks about kingdoms, about empires, about the kind of power
that inspires awe. That inspires fear and respect. Obedience.
like misery, is always after company, always on the lookout for
similar minds, for those who can be dragged in, dragged down. Geoff
wasn’t exactly collecting angels, but an argument could be made that
the members of the FAHC are worlds worse together than any were
apart. That the monstrous parts of them came from somewhere. Came
from someone. Maybe it was inevitable regardless, maybe not, Geoff
doesn’t care either way; they’re his now and he’s never letting them
he does let go of, somewhere along the line, are some of his sharper
edges; splits who he has to be when he’s at work from who he is with
his crew, packs the nasty ruthlessness of Ramsey away and brings back
the more mellow aspects of Geoff. He learns to seperate fear from
respect, recognises that there are greater things than obedience,
that there are things worthy of sacrifice. Geoff stopped looking up
for answers a long time ago, stopped waiting for something to come
along and save him. Now he looks down at his own kingdom, dark and
dirty but entirely his own, and maybe it will never be holy but it’s
more salvation than he’d ever dreamed of.
imagine Sugawara and Daichi throwing a graduation party at the end of the year, and inviting everyone on the team (plus a lot of their classmates). It’s a typical high school party, up until someone says the phrase ‘spin the bottle’