May 5
WIP
. . . creating the spaces for what’s about to unfold
not just rooms… but fragments of something that hasn’t been told yet
every detail matters every corner holds something
this is where it starts
🎧 do i wanna know?
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from T1
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from United States
WIP
. . . creating the spaces for what’s about to unfold
not just rooms… but fragments of something that hasn’t been told yet
every detail matters every corner holds something
this is where it starts
🎧 do i wanna know?
𝕿𝖔 𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖓
These nails and all corsets from @regina-raven ARE SO FREAKING BEAUTIFUL
First day in Quarantine... my bored ass be like >:3c
Uhm..
Hi ♡ I love sims! ..
Also @plumbella ...i saw your torture chamber... i loved the outside! But...maybe you need a few more ideas for the....inside
>:3c if your pure christian heart can take it ♡
CC gives the right vibes ♡
Why are these funny to me
(images from http://sirenshadow.com/children_GT.html)
Chapter 1.5 — The Night
Lorenzo got home late.
He didn’t turn on the lights. Didn’t change. Didn’t even sit down properly.
The day clung to him— Iván’s words, StrangerVille’s name, the feeling that something had already started moving without his consent.
He fell asleep still dressed, stretched across the bed.
The noise came first.
Soft. Wrong.
Glass shifting. A breath that didn’t belong to the house.
Lorenzo was awake before he fully understood why.
He moved on instinct.
The intruder froze when she saw him— not because of his size, but because of his eyes.
There was something in them that night. Something sharp. Uncontrolled.
He didn’t touch her. Didn’t need to.
His voice was low, steady, final. Enough to send her running back into the dark.
When the door slammed shut, the silence felt heavier than before.
Lorenzo stood there, hands shaking.
Not from fear.
From how easily it had happened.
Willow Creek had always been quiet. Safe. Predictable.
That night, it felt thin. Like a fragile shell.
And for the first time since arriving, Lorenzo wondered if the danger he feared was outside the house—
or already inside him.
To be continued…
OLD FLOOR COVERINGS
NO often repeated patterns!!!
4x4
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