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mysticalsoot · 8 months

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tomorrow you can fly

A/N; thanks to @poraphia 's post earlier tonight w photos of will in eyeshadow- we now have this fic I wrote in an hour- soooo- go check out their blog and maybe like take a read here- FYI this is so incredibly self indulgent, reader is just me. this is what its like with my dr s/o. he calls me bunny, I love it. let me be happy.

summary; reader does wil's makeup and helps him get ready for a show!! a bit of anxiety ensues but nothing a bit of soft wilbur can't help!!

tw// anxiety, seperation anxiety, wil is shirtless briefly, barely suggestive but slightly, will gets his makeup done?? very autistic coded reader and kinda will too!! reader is called bunny and bug, very cutesty petnames, fukin sue me

words; 3k

pairings; cc!wilbur x gn!reader

pronouns; none!

masterlist

—★—

"wilbee?" you call softly for your boyfriend, humming and swaying around the flat as you try to find where he's getting ready for his gig-- or rather where he's hiding.

"mm, yes baby?" he calls after you, and you peak into your bedroom, hurrying to stand behind him and wrap yourself around his body as he looks through his side of the closet. you place a kiss on his back, your fingers running over his stomach.

"whatcha doin, lovey?" you hum, resting your cheek against his back as he stops, looks down and chuckles. he turns in your grasp, smiling down at you and holding your face in his hands. you note how small your face feels compared to his grasp, it's nice.

"im trying to get ready, bunny."

a soft smile on his lips as he leans down, practically bent over to place a kiss on your lips before another lingering kiss is placed on your forehead. you grasp at his sides, hands grabbing hold of the fabric of his shirt as you stand tall on your toes to reach him better.

"can I help?" you tilt your head to the side, knowing the answer is yes.

"of course, lovebug," he smiles and turns back to pick out a few tops, you grab onto his free hand, wrapping yours around his finger as he walks over to the bed and places the shirts down, "which one, hun?" he looks over at you as you inspect each one, thinking deeply and searching your brain for each memory of him wearing the choices laid in front of you.

the one on the left is his favorite doomed sweater, everyone knows it. but it's August, and much too hot for a sweater, let alone when he'll be all sweaty. you hand it to him and shake your head.

"aww, but it's my favorite?" he whines playfully, a gentle smirk on his lips as he tosses it aside in the reading nook you both put together. he'll deal with it later.

"I'd rather you not get heatstroke," you hum as you glance between the two other options. one is a white button up, the other being a tighter fitting white tshirt. you point to the Tshirt and nod up at him, "that one, can I get you a jacket, baby?"

he nods, smiling as he takes the options you dismissed and puts them away. you follow him to the closet, almost like a lost puppy, which isn't uncommon for either of you. you're attached at the hip, even at home.

you look through his jackets for a moment or two, while he's deciding on jeans and shoes. he'll get you to pick socks out for him, you like to mismatch them and make sure they're nice and colorful for him. you glance between a green jacket and a black one, both of which are decently light and shouldn't make him sweat much more than he would on his own. you him as you try to grab the green one, pulling it off the hanger and bringing it to him, where he stands in front of the dresser.

"this one," you hum and put it on top of the dresser, the shirt and jeans picked out.

"socks, darling?"

you nod and quickly pick a pair of Minecraft socks.

"love--"

"stick to your roots, wilb."

you smile and look up at him as he shakes his head and kisses your cheek, holding you against him for a few moments before he breathes in and sighs.

"can I do your makeup?" you look up at him, chin rested on his chest as his hands find your hips and rub the bone with his thumbs.

"how do you plan on doing it?" he leans down, a few soft kisses being placed and drug along your neck. gentle, loving motions not meant for anything but to say 'i love you, I'll miss you'.

"eyeshadow, your waterline eyeliner aaaaannd maybe some highlight?" the list is light and would look decently natural, besides the eye makeup, but getting to make him all pretty before a show sounds beautiful. getting to sit on his lap and practically draw on his face with powders and eye pencils, his hands on your hips--it sounds like heaven to you.

"I think we can agree on that," a kiss to your cheek and a quick little peck to the lips and he's across the room and in the bathroom. the water starts and you take that as a cue to move, going over to your vanity and setting out what you'll need.

you decide to take out some of your lipstick too, just a small idea you feel like springing on him. you sit there for a few moments before you quickly jump into bed and look out the window for a bit. just watching the tide go in and out, he's a quick shower guy so doing anything that could take more than five minutes, wasn't the best deal. so looking out the window, from a distance might I add, was a good deal. you don't like being too close to the large windows by yourself, you prefer when wil is there behind you. then, if you fall through the big glass windows, he'll fall with you. morbid, but sweet in a way. or that's what your sister Grace, says. either way, you don't mind.

it isn't long until Wil is out of the shower and bathroom, a towel wrapped around his torso and another towel drying his hair.

you look at him for a moment, trying not to gawk as you notice his stomach, the small bit of fat he has there. soft and squeezable and wonderful for laying on, the v-line just below that makes you blush. then your eyes dance to his waist, where it comes in a curve, a small dip that drives you crazy. you glance away when you see him smirking and he shakes his head at your silence and rosy cheeks.

you look back at him a moment later after a loving little scoff leaves his lips and your eyes widen when you see him about to shake his hair out.

"wil! no! you're not a dog, babe!" you squeal out as he shakes his hair out, right in front of you as water droplets shake off everywhere. you're squealing and giggling until he stops and he laughs, lunging over you and attacking your face in sweet kisses, his damp curls tickling your face.

"how's that, hm? better now? you've forgiven me?" he smirks as he pulls back, finger running down your jaw and resting under your chin. he pulls you in for a quick kiss and you pout up at him.

"I've told you no dog shakes. it's mean."

he simply chuckles and shakes his head, letting the towel drop and quickly changing into his clothes. his hair dries quickly, so he doesn't bother with the hair drier. plus, he knows you hate the noise, and with how quiet you've been today, he doesn't want to agitate your nerves any further.

after he's dressed, he sits down in the chair at the vanity before patting his leg, "c'mere, baby," he smiles and you oblige quickly, easily slipping into his lap facing him.

you hold his face in your hands for a few moments before a kiss to his forehead, and then you twist back to grab the concealer you keep for him, he's much too pale for anyone else's.

this isn't your first time either.

you smile as you scoot forwards, his hands landing onto your hips, holding tightly and covering more space on you than you thought was possible. you dab a few dots of concealer in a few places where he gets more blemishes, and then a couple quick swipes under his eyes. you recap the concealer and put it back on the vanity, grabbing the sponge and dabbing it around. he shuts his eyes and sighs softly, fully content in the domesticity of the moment. you've both been awfully quiet today, he's been so pent up and stressed about the night's gig that he hasn't had much to say, and you on the other hand, aren't always the most talkative. at least on your bad or mediocre days. on good days you'd be smiling and talking wil's ear off, which he loved. it reminded him you trusted him, and felt safe to freely speak your mind.

today was a more anxious day for you, so silence was resorted to most often. nothing happened in particular, you just sort of woke up uneasy, sick to your stomach and messages you had gotten from some of wil's acquaintances didn't make you feel better. as always, he'd hum and kiss your nose, rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs and muttering 'youre worthy, you're smart, you're beautiful. no one else's words dictate your self worth, mkay?' it's sweet, how much he loves you. how desperately he loves you and how far he is willing to go for that to be known. you've never felt so loved and appreciated as you have when you're in his lap, or his arms or simply in the same room as him.

when wilbur is there you are safe, loved and appreciated and those are things you haven't always felt, and for that, you're thankful to him.

after the concealer is blended, you move onto the eyeshadow, tapping the brush out after you dipped it in one of the green tones. you apply it to his eyelids as he tries not to giggle at the way it tickles, his lip being between his teeth to help keep it contained. his fingers tighten on your hip bones for a few minutes as you finish up with the other eyelid. then you add a bit of shimmer shadow to it, for some sparkle. you're quick with the eyeliner, dragging the pencil gently on his waterline, knowing it's his least favorite part.

as you add the highlight to his inner corners, nose and various other spots on his face, you hum with a smile, "I have an idea, could I tell you about it?"

he hums as a yes, smiling as he looks down at you, just slightly.

"what if I put some red lipstick on me and then kissed all over your face and neck and a bit on this white tshirt here?" your words are spoken slower than most times, partly because of the exhaustion of being anxious for a whole day and partly because it insinuates a bit of mischief to your words.

"yes, please, my love," he smirks, loving the idea of going on stage with kiss marks all over his face and neck. what a way to show who's he is, hm?

"wonderful," you're quick with finishing up the base, before you apply the lipstick marks. his cheeks and jaw are heavier in the kisses, and then some more are placed on his neck. you have to reapply the lipstick a few times and after youre done you pull back to look at your work, smiling in satisfaction at your job. Wil looks in the mirror, smirking before kissing your chin.

"it looks beautiful, baby. you did such a good job," he coos softly, a kiss to your cheek as you step off his lap and he stands. you press your hand to his chest as you shake your head.

"almost forgot, lip balm."

he nods and quickly dabs some on his lips, shaking his head and chuckling at how thorough you are.

you help pack his bags and carry them down to the van, and after his guitars and other things are up, he steps aside with you, holding your face and leaning down to meet your eyes.

"promise me you'll be okay? you won't be bored at all?" his eyebrows are all knitted together and you giggle at how worried he seems. you'll be fine after all.

"I'm gonna be fine, I promise. you need to have fun at your show, wilb," your smile is sweet and genuine, and you giggle at every kiss his lips leave on your face. his thumbs rubbing at your cheeks when he pulls back makes you smile even wider.

you didn't want to go to the show, but you didn't tell him that. you simply said you were much too tired and thought staying back and resting was a better option. in reality, his fans scared you a bit. and sometimes you felt judged. it was best to stay at home with your current state of mind anyways.

a few goodbye kisses and a long hug where he picks you up and spins you and then he's off and you're going up the stairs back to your flat.

you're putting away the makeup from earlier, and then head out to the kitchen to put together some leftovers for yourself, bouncing and swaying on your feet, a stim you enjoy most when you're alone. or with wil, but sometimes being with him is like being alone, in an oddly cathartic way. he makes you feel safe, like you can truly be yourself, in the same way you can when there's not a single prying eye. because his brown ones never pry.

you spend your time busying yourself, crocheting different projects you've had going, playing stardew and putting some of wils vods on the TV to help with background noise, and your separation anxiety.

sometime between then and now, you fell asleep on the couch, curled up in pillows and blankets, all nestled in and comfy.

long hours are spent asleep, until the very late hours of night, 2 or 3am and the door is creaking open, shutting and locking. you smile to yourself in your half sleepy daze. you try to pretend to be asleep, knowing that wil would cuddle you if you were awake or asleep, but hoping he'd carry you to bed with him too, if it was the latter.

"love?" he calls softly, dropping his things by the door and shoving his shoes off before hurrying over to you, kneeling down by the side of the couch and pushing hair out of your face. you look up at him through your lashes and he smiles, you broke.

"hi, bee," you hum, reaching out to him and hugging him close, "how was the show?" you speak against his neck, breath fanning over the skin and lifting goosebumps across it.

"very good, the crowd was wonderful. really wish you were there, they would've loved you," he sighs, nestling his face into your neck as he slowly crawls onto the couch with you, laying half on you and half off.

"you have good fans, I don't doubt it," you avoid the other comments, and Wil notes this for later as he rubs your hair and hums to you. you lift your head to look at his face, noticing how his makeup is gone and you frown. he notices and speaks up;

"took it off at the venue, means I can cuddle you immediately," he smiles and you giggle, nodding happily as you stuff your face into his chest and let him embrace you, "ready for bed, bug?"

you nod and he holds you close, before sitting you up. he stands and picks you up by your waist, wrapping you around him and carrying you off to bed. he lays you down, tucking in beside you and kissing your temple.

"were you feeling okay while I was gone?" he asks with a quick chirp. he nibbles at your ear, before a kiss is placed under it.

"yeah, i just crafted and napped," you tuck your head under his chin, hands grasping at his shirt and his covering the top of yours, "you've got big hands," the words are blurted out immediately, without thought. it makes you reel into yourself, hiding your face as it burns red when you realize what you've spoken aloud.

"yeah? well, all the better to hold you with, mm?" he chuckles, shaking his head with a smile and looking out the window for a few seconds. he notices your stillness and reaches down to pull your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, "your comment didn't make me uncomfortable, I liked it. do you need to breathe with me?"

you shrug and he takes that as a yes.

he holds up his hand, outstretched, and takes a deep breath, putting a finger down for each second he breathes in. you follow his lead. he then does the same for holding, 4 in, 4 hold, 4 out. he does this with you a few more times before he notices your body more relaxed and less tense than before. he wraps his arms tighter around you, pulling you closer into his chest as he cradles the back of your head with his hand. his fingers scratch and massage at your scalp as you sigh in contentment.

"i didnt mean to say it," you shake your head, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"doesn't mean you didnt mean it,"

"i meant it," your response is quick and he smirks at how fast you respond, kissing the crown of your head before leaning back to look at your face.

he leans down, face in his hands as he kisses you ever so softly on the lips, love and care seeping into the touch and when you pull away, a slight tingle is left on the skin he touched. it's nice, like an echo of his love gets left behind with every graze of his fingers or lips or simply his touch. its addicting.

"sleep?" you whisper softly, a yawn seeping through your words.

he nods, and you curl up in his chest as you both shuffle and adjust in the bedsheets.

"goodnight, bunny," he smiles, eyes shut as he kisses your forehead.

"goodnight, bee," and with your words and his touch, slips away any worry that weighed on your chest, and now you feel light. maybe tomorrow you can fly, you hope its with him.

taglist; @ella-fella-bo-bella @lillylvjy @sleepyburs @lotusanonymouse @lcvejoy

as a gift, here are the photos<3

#bee<3 #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur #wilbur soot x gn!reader #wilbur x reader #cc!wilbur soot x male reader #cc!wilbur soot x gn!reader #cc!wilbur #cc!wilbur x reader #cc!wilbur soot #wilbur soot fluff #wil looks so good in makeup fuckin hell

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kzimss · 2 years

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NEWJEANS | CC

Woah, take it easy! So many questions about NEWJEANS! Here they are! Have a nice game!

MEMBERS CC:

DANIELLE:

HANNI:

MINJI:

HYEIN:

HAERIN:

GENETICS

SLIDERS (chest, chin, cheeks, nose, mouth, eyes): 1. ♥ | 2. ♥ | 3. ♥ | 4. ♥ | 5. ♥ | 6. ♥ | 7. ♥ | 8. ♥ | 9. ♥ | 10. ♥ | 11. ♥ | 12. ♥ | 13. ♥ | 14. ♥ | 15. ♥ | 16. ♥ | 17. ♥ | 18. ♥ | 19. ♥ | 20. ♥ | 21. ♥ | 22. ♥ | 23. ♥ | 24. ♥ | 25. ♥ |

PRESETS (all members):

Mouth: Base game + Hanni: ♥

Nose: Base game

Eyes: Base game

Ears: ♥

Nose shadow: ♥

Body: ♥ ♥

SKIN DETAILS FOR ALL MEMBERS: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Sim available in my Origin gallery

ID: SARKAZET

TRAY FILES: ♥

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sojutrait · 2 months

Note

Just out of curiousity: do all your heirs' kids come out perfect just naturally or do you tweak them in CAS once they age up? I feel like all my sims' kids are fugly as hell once they reach teenhood lol

for gameplay sims they usually come out good Enough (if u ignore all the randomized cc, ty growing together update) and ill just slap on skin details and fix weak chins and other presets that got wonky bc of genetics and presets not playing well together

butttt also, theres no rule that u cant completely overhaul them if they come out looking like a creature from the black lagoon, fuck it we ball do what u gotta do!

#asks #anon

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inkformyblood · 9 months

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i lose all (but not him) #1 CWW2023

Kamino, First Meetings, Slow Burn. Cody x Obi-Wan @codywanweek Day 1 prompt: Cody with a lightsaber. Ao3 link here.

It’s raining. Again.

CC-2224 jams his thumb into the door controls, forcing them open once more with a rush of frigid air that sends the hair on his arms prickling, the sensation crawling over his scalp in a bygone evolutionary tick that does nothing but irritate him. It had been several rotations since the pipes on the lower levels had broken and sent a tidal wave of coral and tiny lost insects into the corridors but the feeling of something crawling over his skin had yet to entirely fade from his immediate memory. It possibly never would. CC-2226 still woke screaming on occasions about the crash from sixteen rotations ago.

The treated canvas hood would do nothing against the rain but CC-2224 still pulls it over the thin fabric of his blacks, double knotting the trailing cords beneath his chin and tucking them away. His boots are soaked through already, but he still leans down and secures his laces. He can no more stop himself than he could pluck the moon from the sky and rearrange the constellations on a whim. He has been trained, sculpted, made for this.

Query: is it going to stop raining soon?

Answer: no.

The thought isn’t his and yet it is, wired into his thoughts like an additional comm line. CC-2224 nods regardless, swallowing against the copper tinge that spreads over his tongue, and presses the door control once more. Water flicks against his face and he blinks, pulling in a deep breath through gritted teeth, and steps outside.

He regrets it immediately. Well, not regret it. The word doesn’t quite fit and CC-2224 turns it over and over in his thoughts to try and smooth over the ragged edges, to make it flat and smooth and as routine as everything else. He’d seen a piece of equipment fall from one of the higher platforms and become wedged between a barrier and the window it was attached to, too unimportant to warrant the slight inconvenience of lowering a magnet to retrieve it and so it had been left. He’d stopped by the window during his patrols, not for long and not with enough regularity for it to be a pattern and noticed, but enough times to track the decay of plastoid components to expose the fragile wiring beneath. That had only lasted a cycle before it had been torn free and lost, the outer casing following soon after. CC-2224 doesn’t regret having to perform maintenance on the filtration unit. It is a necessary task to prevent costly breakdowns in the future. It is a necessary task to keep the nutrients in their ration blocks from becoming altered due to their negligence. It is a necessary task to keep CC-2226 from being decommissioned.

There is no room for deviations, no room for error, but CC-2224 will try for as long as he can.

He is made for this task, just as he had been made for every task before. His genetic sequence had been meticulously hand-crafted, every base chosen and lined up where it was needed. He isn’t as much of a person as he is a tool, a weapon, whatever is needed for the situation at hand. He had been made for the Jedi.

ERROR.

He had been made for one Jedi.

ERROR.

CC-2224 raises his hand to his face, smudges at the sudden spike of pain in his nose. He’s already dripping, every step squelching through the scattered puddles that are only disrupting the rain in that they’re stopping the rain from immediately drenching CC-2224 to his skin, but he can see the dark stain of blood by the distant gleam of the landing pad lights from the platform above him. There’s no sky visible amongst the heavy press of the stormclouds, and the air is heavy with salt amongst the copper gleam of blood with every breath.

He needs to move quickly. He has wasted enough time already and the unit needs to be fixed.

The panel is clearly marked, the edges outlined in a mixture of scavanged armour paint by a previous batch and CC-2224 crouches next to it. He shivers, steadying himself on the slick metal and bares his teeth at the unforgiving sky. It doesn’t stop raining, but it makes him feel a little better. Stringing together a collection of scavenged curses at the panel as it refuses to budge also helps. CC-2224 stands, tugging at the tied cords of his hood. The outside is drenched through and there isn’t enough fabric for him to use it as leverage while he is still wearing it. Rainwater cascades over him as he pulls it free, his jaw clenched tight to try and keep his teeth from chattering. He is shaking and he will never be warm or dry again. He will rust and decay and the tiny nonexistent things that are crawling over him will eat his bones.

The panel moves.

Somewhere, a door hisses open.

Query: where?

Answer: Landing bay 4

CC-2224 stares up at the distorted lights above him. He can’t keep his eyes open long enough to pick out details, rain impacting against his cheeks and necessary instincts force him to blink. That landing bay is off limits for a reason. Jango had laid it out in his contract amendments when it had been decided for him to stay on Kamino. CC-2224 had heard whispers about how that had been decided, rumours passed between batches like treated water, only gaining speed with every retelling. The version he had heard first was the least fanciful and so the most likely to be true. There had been another man at the meeting, someone tall and dressed in a dark cloak with white hair, his hand heavy on Prime’s shoulder like he was steering him.

ERROR. NO. REDIRECTING.

There are two, no, three people clustered on the landing bay. Their shadows bounce off of the walls, distorted as the rain floods over the bay lights, and CC-2224 frowns, cupping his hands over his brow as he tries to make out their size. He had done this training, passed it in record time, but the chill the rain brought with it is entirely new. He won’t mention that to the trainers, however, in case they decide to implement it to the extreme. Two are fully-grown trooper size, one standard and one possibly from an alpha batch, head and shoulders taller but not as broad as he would expect. Slight variations are expected so it must be factored in, but the final figure is cadet-sized, scurrying across the landing bay, and CC-2224 tracks his movement closely, mindful of the dual facts of a restricted area as well as the lack of barriers around the edge of the platform. Cadets think they know too much and could do everything, their confidence matched only by the shinies until they trip on their still-too-large boots.

They’re one plan, one blueprint. Deviations are not tolerated for long.

CC-2224 turns his head just enough to check the positions of the cameras, one above the door on his level and one above the door on the upper level. They wouldn’t be active, not at this hour, but he still swallows against the burn of acid in his mouth. It must be what one of the scuttling creatures that swarm over the lower levels feels like when a larger fish comes swimming past, infinitely too small with a blade hanging over his head, preparing to drop. The sounds of the ocean shift into something hungry, something focused on him with the salt tang of intention, and CC-2224 stands to the sound of a blaster.

Single shot. Deflected. (Deflected how? Something itches at the back of his mind, right next to wired-in thoughts.)

Second shot. Third.

What the fuck is going on?

CC-2224 steps forward, cupping his hands over his eyes as he stares up at the platform. All three of them will be decommissioned, possibly himself as well just for being nearby in case he is involved somehow. So, he’ll get himself involved.

The control panel for the camera is locked just inside the door controls, a neat little bypass loop to let CC-2224 take a peek and try and find spot any markings, maybe a batch symbol if he’s lucky.

(What’s that sound?)

He doesn’t manage to make it back to the door before the ground trembles beneath his feet. Not a quake nor a wave. Not a test either. It is rhythmic, building, the slow roar of a ship beginning to take off. There is only one ship on Kamino that sounds like that, loud and insistent and demanding to be noticed because fear and notoriety are half the job, as Jango said during a training session. He had left recently, circling back a few cycles ago and now he was leaving again? The cadet should be Boba if the standard trooper is Jango.

He hopes it’s Jango. If there is a trooper stealing his ship, they’ll all be culled, just to be safe.

(There it is again. What is it? It sounds so familiar, like something he heard once in a dream.)

CC-2224 breaks into a run, heading for the railings between this platform and the next. The surface is old, pitted, with heavy data cords that run up the inside along with the structural supports. It’ll be difficult, but he should be able to climb up that way if he braces himself correctly so that he doesn’t immediately fall into the starving sea beneath him. It is a stupid plan. It is one of the worst plans that CC-2224 has ever come up with. It is the only plan that has a chance of working.

He hopes CT-7567 will be okay, whichever outcome befalls him.

(Catch it.)

CC-2224 obeys. He is a good soldier, afterall. He’s created to follow orders.

The weapon is still warm, holding onto the touch of an unknown person. CC-2224 looks up, one boot resting on the decaying railing, his hand still outstretched over the scant gap between the landing bays. There is someone looking down at him, backlit as the ship roars into the atmosphere.

“Hello there!” The stranger calls. Their accent is new, clipped at the vowels and made to carry. Even so, CC-2224 has to focus to hear them, blinking against the rain.A new trainer? Someone else?

He knows who they are. He knows the weapon he’s holding. (He knows how to kill with the weapon he’s holding, knows how to fight the wielder.) ERROR.

CC-2224 raises his hand in greeting, holding the tube between thumb and forefinger as he splays his fingers. He points towards the door, knowing that there is little use in calling back and forth and trying to make themselves heard over the storm.

The stranger mimics CC-2224’s wave, their skin paler in the brief pulses of light from the emergency lighting than CC-2224’s. They are already beginning to shiver, their hand wavering before they drop out of sight. Blankets are stashed in a reclaimed supply cupboard, two corridors over with a right and a short left and CC-2224 pins the location in his mind as he turns his attention back to the open panel. A quick patch would keep it functional until the next cycle, nowhere near the full repair he was hoping to perform but it’ll do.

The lower levels are quiet this time of night, but they aren’t deserted. CC-2224 slips into one of the supply room and knocks on the top of a crate. There is a moment before he hears the sleep-slow shift of fabric and a similar face appears in the slight gap between lid and side.

“We have a Jedi on Kamino. Have you still got your comm patch links to update everyone?”

CC-2224 barely waits to receive a nod and the fledging beginning of a question before he is moving away. There isn’t time for the endless supply of questions he would have to wade through once they start and there is already a headache pulsing on the left side of his head at the thought of all the curiosity to come. He taps the lightsaber — because what else could it be, documented in a thousand training sims and another thousand more forms and techniques they had learnt (but why, why did they need them ERROR) — against his thigh. The metal gleams beneath the pale internal lights of a sleep cycle, heavier than he would have expected for something so innocuous, and CC-2224 brushes his thumb over the switch just beneath the port. It is a slight stretch for him to reach, suggesting the Jedi is taller than himself or, at least, has a slightly wider grip.

He’ll need to be mindful of the extra reach this could mean.

The thought is forgotten as quickly as it arrives, tucked away amongst the nest of wired-in instincts that haven’t been taught or bound into him but were somehow there.

The blanket he collects from the supply closet in one amongst thousands of the same grey material, the same durable weave, and he slings it over one shoulder as he walks, barely breaking stride as he leaves a trail of damp and squelching footprints behind him. They all knew of the Jedi (they had been made for them) but soaked to the bone and shivering is not how he thought he would ever meet one. In his half-constructed dreams, the ones that were usually filled with a nebulous future of things he had never experienced but they could be out there, somewhere, maybe, CC-2224 doesn’t dream of battle. He thinks about a street, about a blue sky above his head and walls that are stone instead of metal. He thinks about a chance encounter, about hands fumbling on a stack of forms or an accidental encounter with a mug of caf. He thinks about his Jedi and what they will look like. He wonders who this Jedi is.

Rounding another corner, CC-2224 hears a matching set of wet footsteps, an unfamiliar voice grumbling in a cascade of syllables that seem to be bundled together in a roll for easy transport only to be unfurled at what sounds like the weather outside, the ocean below, the walls for looking too similar and somebody named Quigon for somehow being responsible, ultimately, for all of this.

“Sir?”

The Jedi begins to look over his shoulder before he catches himself and turns to face CC-2224. He is pretty in a soaked to the skin kind of way, the water shining beneath the flare of lights as they hum into life at CC-2224’s approach. His hair is dark, made darker by the storm, but it is the shade that captures CC-2224’s attention first, red like the distant glimpses of sunset he can make out from the higher levels of the facility whenever the speciality training overran.

“Hello again,” the Jedi says, his grin immediate and a little rueful. He bows, one shivering hand pressed into his chest. The leather bracelets around his wrist shift with the movement and CC-2224 flexes his free fingers with the urge to unfasten them. They could move and catch, irritating the skin beneath, and no other reason. None at all.

CC-2224 holds out the lightsaber, flipping it easily so the handle is extended towards the Jedi. He is aware of the potential blade within in the same way he would be aware of the possible humming energy field of a vibroblade, the prospect of danger and death. “I believe you dropped this, sir.”

“Yes. I did, didn’t I?” The Jedi steps forward, tapping his boot behind himself as he reclaims his lightsaber and snaps it back onto his belt. “Thank you for catching it for me.”

CC-2224 flexes his fingers, chasing after the scant memory of the handle still warm from another’s touch, and settles back into the correct stance before holding the blanket out. “For you as well, sir.”

“Thank you. And call me Obi-Wan, please. I don’t believe I’ve caught your name?”

CC-2224 twitches at the question, a momentary break in composure and his fingers bump against Obi-Wan’s. It is the barest instance of contact, gone in the same heartbeat, but he focuses on it regardless, something new to distract his racing thoughts with. He can’t answer. He has to answer. He—

“Jedi Master. I have been looking for you.”

Ice shears down CC-2224’s spine, stopping his heart and kickstarting it at the same time. His breath remains steady, his hands still as he drops into a waiting position at the Kaminoan’s approach. They didn’t venture down this far, preferring the drier floors high above, and she ducks her head beneath the sag of a broken strut before moving next to Obi-Wan. She doesn’t look at CC-2224.

“I see you have encountered one of our units.”

“I have.” Obi-Wan glances at CC-2224, his expression unreadable. All warmth that CC-2224 had been basking in has been carefully hidden, akin to shoving everything that could be considered contraband into an air duct and pulling the paneling back into place leaving it sheer and blank once more. “He showed great initiative, I’m very impressed.”

The target slowly lifts from between CC-2224’s shoulderblades, a box in a system he’ll never be allowed to access remaining unchecked. He doesn’t move, keeps his face blank. He hasn’t been dismissed yet; one of the little games the long-necks like to play and some of the trainers too, the wait-there-because-I’ve-told-you, the pick-this-up-put-it-down, the go-stop-go-stop.

He hopes the Jedi will be different.

He is prepared if they aren’t.

“Do you require him for anything further?”

“No.” Obi-Wan turns away from the scientist, his mouth still pressed into a thin line that speaks a rage brewing behind it, tightly leashed and called to heel, but his eyes soften as he looks at CC-2224. “You’re dismissed. I hope our paths cross again.”

“Sir.” CC-2224 salutes, regimentally perfect like he has been pre-programmed with the gesture, and turns on his heel. He’s been a drowning man often enough to recognise an escape when one is offered.

Query: Who is Jedi Master Obi-Wan?

Answer: He is a Jedi. He is a target. (He has been made for you just as you have been made for him.)

Too many thoughts.

ERROR.

Just one.

Their fingers brushed. CC-2224 would like it to happen again.

#codywan week 2023 #codywan #codywanweek 2023 #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x cody #fanfic #my writing

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gabysimgallery · 9 months

Photo

_+**++Miguel O'Hara++**+_ - xXDiamond_AraXx

*BREATHS IN AGGRESSIVELY* YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO after so much time without uploading a sim........I- I could not resist making my own version of Miguel.....U///u✌ enjoy 💅

The Sims 4 Gallery (game gallery) - contains CC

All cc and poses I’ve used below the read more💗💗💗💗💗 (a very long list o-0)

Poses

First pic poses by @kassimsdesign - MALE COLLAB POSES

Second pic by @j-e-n-n-e-h - Second Snap

--------------sliders------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

New sliders babyyy!!! I used different ones on him >wo!

- Lip fullness slider by @vibrantpixels

- Mouth Scale Slider by @teanmoon

- More sliders for the face! by @obscurus-sims (width slider one)

- Better Male Bodies Sliders by @narci-cism (BetterMaleBodySliders one)

- Pouty Lip-Slider ( ˘ ³˘)♥ by @miikocc

- Eyebrow Slider by @miikocc

- Height Slider & Extras by @luumia (neck, hip and heigh sliders)

- Presets & Sliders by @luumia (hand and face asym ones)

- Shoulder Height Slider by Hellfrozeover

- Extra Neck Width Slider by Golyhawhaw

- Wrist Size Slider by Golyhawhaw

- Classic Physique Nipple + Bumpmap(beta) version by Golyhawhaw (the version backlower default one)

- 👽 DEFAULT NOSE SLIDER by MAGIC BOT

- 👽 DEFAULT MOUTH SLIDER by MAGIC BOT

- 👽 DEFAULT CHIN SLIDER by MAGIC BOT

- ❝Forehead Height Slider❞ by @bloodmooncc

- Eye size slider + head size slider by @marsosims

--------------Skin Details, Tattoos, Arm-Leg Hair and Feet-----

- Spotlight Tattoos by SimMandy

- Misc. face details by okruee

- Halloween Gift by @obscurus-sims (eyemask N8, red one)

- Vanilla Skin by @luumia (go into the sfs DL link, in the folder of sfs; go to the sub folder called skin details and choose: LUUMIA_skindetail_LipTints)

- ENRICHED SKIN OVERLAY by Golyhawhaw

- GOLD STANDARD BODY HAIR by Golyhawhaw (arm and leg)

- HD feet version 5. Update island living by @necrodogmtsands4s

--------------Hair, Eyebrows and Teeth-----------------------------------------------------------

- E-BOY XL Makeup Collection by Pralinesims (download the oudated version and get the Pralinesims_Eyebrows_N156_Lotto.package one)

- TS4 Male Hair G48 by Ginko Sims

- [Osoon] Teeth 01 by @5so0n

NOTE bc I dind’t knew how that devil website WoRkEd XDD so a lil advice: in the link above I provide, click on it and scroll down a bit and click on the ‘‘i agree inside the little yellow rectangle, it will take you to ‘’Linkvertise’’. From there scroll down a bit and you’ll see a ‘‘Direc Access with Premium or Free Access’‘ in orange and black, click the one that says ‘’Free Access’‘, it will open up a new window saying that u need to ‘’choose and complete’’ its a 3 step thingy, 1. choose whatever ‘’im interested’’ it doesn’t matter, 2. click in learn more (close the window that opens up xd and wait like 10 secs, in grey letters in the bottom it will appear a ‘‘ I already completed this step’‘ click on that xd, and there!, it will give u the link to SFS......eazy peasy XD.

- Semi-realistic Teeth by @kiellessa (set 1)

- in the zip file will be a extra 01Eyebrows - HQ.package, i dont know where it comes from but its needed lol, so i’ll leave it there in the zip file xD

--------------Eyes, Nose and Lashes-------------------------------------------------------------

- BEETLE EYES 2 by @squea (get all)

- No EA Eyelashes HOTFIX by @escapingpotplant

- another extra one, I tried to find where it comes from the [D1]obscurus_presets1.package thas in my mods folder, but with no luck, so i’ll leave it in the zip file included, its rlly needed 👍

--------------Clothes and Shoes-------------------------------------------------------------------

- Bespoke Suits V.1 by SimmieV

- REINA_TS4_F&M_TOWEL ACC by Reina Sims4 (male towel acc HQ)

- Floral Buttonup Shirt by McLayneSims

- [KK] Basic set 17 by KK's creation (pants)

- KK Basic set 08 by KK's creation (jeans)

- DSF PANT MARE by DanSimsFantasy

- Slim-Fit Trousers by Darte77

- CC Pack - Feb 2021 by Darte77 (AMtop299 HQ)

- CC Pack - December 2021 by Darte77 (Darte77_NikeAirMax270HQ, not cu or af)

- «miracle» cc pack by clumsyalien ([RAE SCARF V1 YM])

- KD joggers by akaysims

- Men's shoes collection Part 1 by Jius-sims (all of em uwu)

- Slim Fit Turtleneck by Gorilla Gorilla Gorilla

- Loose Shirts by Gorilla Gorilla Gorilla

- ᵉʳʳᵒʳ404ᵖʰⁱˡˡⁱᵖˢ ᶜˡᵒᵗʰᵉˢ by εяяσя404ρнιℓℓιρs (just the ‘’She Told Me To Relax Joggers’’ and Basketball Shorts-->at the very bottom)

--------------Extra mods I recommend👌 and some that are are needed👈-----------

- WickedWhims v176f (needed for the golyhawhaw torso body selector of course owo)

- MC Command Center 2023.4.1 👌

-Extreme Violence -MOD- V 2.4.1 👌(very eazy to use the design is very human xD)

- VAMPIRES - Reworked Vampires Mods by Zero's Sims 4 Mods (tweaks one needed for his vampiroc poWeRs, already included in the zip file)

- P*rnst*r C*ck V6 [WickedWhims] by .Noir. (for the pp, included in the zip file 🥵in ww body selector, in the pp part, select whatever u find best, I personally use the thick hard/soft big cut >:3)

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

_+**++Miguel O'Hara++**+_ - zip file containing all mods/sliders and tray files in my MediaFire xXDiamond_AraXx uwO ( 852.23MB )

#the sims 4 #the sims 4 cc #ts4 cc #ts4 marvel #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #spider-man #miguel o'hara #sims 4 cc #sims 4 miguel o'hara #ts4 miguel o'hara #marvel sims #gabysimgallery

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merymoonbeam · 2 months

Text

Ramiel stone - The meteor

this is my crackiest crack theory to date.

So in every cc book it is mentioned that Gwydion is made from a meteor that fallen to their world. And in hofas we learn that Truth-teller is also from that same meteor.

That sword was currently strapped across Ruhn’s back, its black hilt devouring the glaring firstlights. Isaiah had once heard someone say the sword was made from iridium mined from a meteorite, forged in another world—before the Fae had come through the Northern Rift. (Hoeab)

“The sword was part of a pair,” Ruhn said to him. “A long-bladed knife was forged from the iridium mined from the same meteorite, which fell on our old world.” The world the Fae had left to travel through the Northern Rift and into Midgard. “But we lost the knife eons ago. Even the Fae Archives have no record of how it might have been lost, but it seems to have been sometime during the First Wars.” (hoeab)

“It’s an ancient sword,” the Autumn King said at last, drawing Ruhn from his wandering thoughts, “from another world. Made from the metal of a fallen star—a meteorite. This sword exists beyond our planet’s laws. Perhaps the Reapers sensed that and shied away.” (hosab)

“This was unique. It felt like … like an answer. My sword blazed with light. That dagger shone with darkness. Both of them are crafted of the same black metal. Iridium, right?” She jerked her chin to Azriel, to the dagger at his side. “Ore from a fallen meteorite?” Azriel’s silence was confirmation enough. (Hofas)

we dont know any meteor in acotar. But azriel confirms it with his silence. That Truth-teller is indeed made from a fallen meteorite.

So what could it be? This is the crack part of the theory. What if it is the ramiel stone?

The blades are black. Ramiel stone is black.

These are the same examples of the Truth-Teller and Gwydion. I can't add every one of them.

Another shift of memory, and Fionn pulled a long blade from the Cauldron, dripping water. A black blade, whose dark metal absorbed any trace of light around it. Bryce’s knees weakened. (Hofas)

Bryce threw her power into the Starsword, light ripping through the black blade, willing it to tear this fucking monster apart—(hofas)

“Some major prophecy fulfillment,” Bryce said, hoping to Hel she was hiding the tremble in her arms from keeping the black blades steady, from ignoring that instinct murmuring to her to bring them together, not keep them apart. (Hofas)

And this is the ramiel stone.

But Cassian paused before a landscape painting of a towering, barren mountain, void of life yet somehow thrumming with presence. Snow and pines crusted the smaller peaks around it, but this strange, bald mountain … Only a black stone jutted from its top. A monolith, Nesta realized, stepping closer. (Acosf)

Far up, too far, lay its peak with the sacred black stone. Three stars glinted above the mountain: Arktos and Oristes to the left and right; Carynth crowning them. Their light flared and waned, as if in invitation and challenge. (Acosf)

Snow drifted across the image, and then Theia was standing atop a mountain, a black monolith rising behind her. (Hofas)

So what if ramiel stone is that meteor?

And in acofas Cassian says this

Who had put that stone atop the peak, he didn’t know, either. Legend said it had existed before the Night Court formed, before the Illyrians migrated from the Myrmidons, before humans had even walked the earth. Even with the fresh snow crusting Ramiel, none had touched the pillar of stone. (Acofas)

So maybe someone didn't put it but it fell to their world.

And fionn dipped the blades to cauldron on top of the cauldron too where the ramiel stone is so maybe they are more connected than we thought?

Again this is CRACK.

#ramiel stone #gwydion #truth-teller #idc about meteors forming a crater and ramiel is a mountain...we dont follow logic around here.#cc3 spoilers #hofas spoilers

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pyromaniac4198 · 1 month

Text

puppets

i had the idea for a single scene from a fic but couldn't think of what else would be in such a fic so i decided to put it to tumblr. if you want to write the fic just send me the link

TW: clone abuse, mind manipulation, Palpatine being a sleemo.

“CC-1010, execute orders 13 and 14,” the chancellor commanded, before pointing to a corner between two bronze statues. “And then kneel in that circle, drawn on the floor.” Palpatine smiled, reveling in the despair of the clone trooper as his body moved against his will to turn off his helmet cam and kneel in the rune circle.

“Supreme Chancellor, sir,” the intercom on Palpatine’s desk buzzed, “knight Skywalker is here to visit you.”

“Send him in.” Immediately after Palpatine spoke, the blond jedi strode through the door. When he saw Fox, kneeling in the corner, his eyes dimmed and glazed until he turned away.

“Chancellor! It’s so good to see you again, I’ve been on campaign for months. How have you been since I left?” At Palpatine’s gesture, Anakin sat down on the low, black bench across from the mahogany desk. “Has the senate been giving you trouble again?”

“They have,” Palpatine started, picking up a large square stamp out of a pad soaked in Fox’s blood and hiding it in his large sleeve. “But I’m feeling much better, now that I’ve seen you again.”

“Thank you, sir,” Anakin started to grin, “but really h-“ as the jedi’s smile pressed his eyes shut, Palpatine struck, pressing the stamp to Anakin’s forehead where it imprinted bloody runes. Immediately, the boy’s face slackened, his eyes opening back up but appearing more purple than blue and entirely vacant. Palpatine gestured as if pulling something, and an image like a 3-dimensional map appeared, except in white and red instead of blue.

“Do you see this, clone?” he said, pointing to the lowest level of the structure, which was a pyramid of increasingly small pavilions held up by Nubian-style columns. “Do you see how this lower level has columns that have been Darkened?” He pulled his hand through the projection, and a red thread followed his fingers.

“These are the pillars of his sanity. Beautiful, aren’t they?” He tied the string around one of the white columns. “It is such a shame that I have to Darken them one at a time, or his mind will automatically purge the Dark, but it does give me more options.”

He laughed.

“Soon enough, there will be enough Darkened pillars that his sanity will crumble, and he’ll have just as much control over himself as you do, when your control chip is activated. This slow movement gives me time to decide whether I want him to be too delirious to disobey, or for him to truly believe that everything I say must be perfectly true. Either way, within the year he will be obeying so well that I can order him to kill all the younglings in the jedi temple and he won’t even consider not doing so. Wont it be glorious?” He turned back to fox, grabbing his chin and wrenching his head up painfully. “Tell me it will be glorious, commander.”

“It will be glorious, your Excellency.” Fox felt like pukeing, as his body spoke the words without his consent. the Sith smiled and turned back around.

“My masterpiece is almost complete.” He banished the image, putting his grandfatherly façade back on. “In just over a year, now, this republic will become my Empire.” He used the Force to clean off the general’s forehead.

“-ow’ve you been?” Anakin continued on with his sentence, not noticing that anything happened. Palpatine smiled and gave a grandfatherly laugh, offering to order food for them both.

An hour later, the food eaten and the young knight sent away, the chancellor turned to fox one last time.

“Perhaps I will pay a visit to Senator Amidala today, and use the Force to make her more … fertile … than she naturally would be. After all, my soon-to-be apprentice is so family oriented, his wife entering a delicate state may speed his Fall. My empire may come in as little as 8 months, instead of 14.” the Nubian man sat at his desk. “What do you think, clone?”

“Whatever your excellency decides is best, your excellence.”

“Good. Stand, CC-1010. Wash that circle off of my floor.”

As Fox’s body moved, he ruminated. This wasn’t the first time he had seen his excellency do force osik, of course, as Darth Sidious loved to gloat, but this was a low that Fox hadn’t yet seen. The future the chancellor spoke of was horrific, and fox wished it were possible to kill him to avert it. At least fox would have control over his own thoughts, even if not his body. It was a cold comfort, but it seemed General Skywalker wouldn’t even have that.

Fox strode out of the chancellor’s office wishing that sometime soon the chancellor would forget to call order 14 so he could talk about what happened when the chancellor required his presence.

#star wars #stars wars #the clone wars #anakin skywalker #clone troopers #coruscant #coruscant guard #commander fox #darth sidious #the coruscant guard #the coruscant guard deserves better

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strangelypenned · 10 months

Text

Hello All! I figured since ao3 is down I’d post the first chapter of my fic Heavy Metal Healing here for those looking for something to read! I hope this helps you get by in the drought. If you enjoy this check me out on ao3 under the same username. The next three chapters are up there whenever the site comes back online. Enjoy! 💜

Summary:

When rockstar Eddie Munson and the battle-scarred Steve Harrington collide their journey begins with pain, but quickly turns into something extraordinary. As Eddie embraces his dominant side and Steve explores submission, their connection becomes a steamy oasis of healing and love. Amid pleasure and pain, they rewrite their stories in a harmonious and unconventional embrace. And let's not forget the party and Robin, who never miss a chance to tease them along the way! It's a provocative tale where hurt transforms into hope, and two hearts find solace in the most unexpected places. Get ready to feel the heat!

Chapter 1:

There were a thousand other ways Steve could be spending his Friday night. He had two papers due within the next week, a birthday party to plan, and a doctor’s appointment he was dreading. Yet here he was, allowing Robin to repeatedly stab him in the eye with an eyeliner pencil. Eyeliner he really didn’t even want to be wearing. Going to a show he was about 75% sure he wasn’t going to enjoy.

“Quit blinking Dingus. Unless you want to lose an eye." Robin barked as she jabbed the flat end of the pencil into his ribs.

"I'm only blinking 'cause you're stabbing me in the eye with a sharp object. Also, how much longer is this going to take? If we want to get to Indi on time we need to leave in like 15 minutes." He glanced at the clock over her shoulder. They had been playing dress-up for over an hour and a half now, and the venue was roughly that far away. If they didn't leave soon they'd likely miss the show altogether.

"Fine. Fuck, we'll just call this good then. I got what I wanted mostly done anyways. " She was franticly throwing stuff in her small makeup bag, finally releasing the iron grip she had on his chin. Standing on sleep numb legs Steve took a look at himself in the mirror.

He almost didn't recognize the person looking back at him, Robin had outdone herself. He was wearing her clothes for the most part. A pair of black jeans that fit a little too tight. He remembers watching her cut the holes into them a few weeks ago in a bored crafting fit. A faded black t-shirt that fit a little bit snugly around the biceps. A large golden sun painted across his chest. It matched the yellow polish on his nails, painted by a smiling Jane earlier that week.

What stood out the most though were his eyes. The dark liner drawing attention to the warm hazel. She had even done his hair, It floated around his head softly, looking fluffier than normal. Yes, Robin had certainly outdone herself.

"How do you feel? I didn't overdo it did I? I know it's different than what you usually wear, but you went on that tangent the other day about wanting to change your look. And I know you don't want to touch your move-out savings to do so so I thou-" He caught her eye in the mirror.

Turning he placed his hands on her shoulders, her outfit was a reflection of his. The differences were the denim vest she had covered in pins and patches, and her shirt being actual merchandise for the bad they were seeing. A large 'CC' was pained across her chest above a flaming coffin.

"Robs I love it. You did a great job. It's definitely different, but I wanted that. Now can we please get out f here before we miss the show?" She nodded her head enthusiastically as he tied his favorite yellow sweater around his waist.

"Normally I would harass you about bringing the comfort sweater, but It kind of works. That, and I know I'm pushing you pretty hard already taking you to a metal show and all." She threw the words over her shoulder as they trudged down the stars. Making sure to stand closer to his good ear.

" Well, you've been talking about this group nonstop for like three months now. So I might as well give them a chance. Plus the volume may ring through my thick skull a bit better." His doctor had mentioned something about music with heavier tones being easier to enjoy. Something to do with the base and the vibrations. It was one of the few reasons, other than making Robin smile, he agreed to go. Smiles didn't come as easily after their final round with the upside down.

"I really think you'll enjoy yourself if you give it a chance Steve. She gave him a knowing look as she buckled herself in. Probably picking up on his thoughts with that freaky telephony thing they seemed to have ever since the Russians.

"I promise I'll give it a chance Robbs. God knows I could use some fun," he mumbled the last part as he backed out of the driveway. She laughed at his words as they coasted up the street, hopefully heading for a much-needed night of fun.

🎸

According to Robin's hour-and-a-half-long lecture about the band, they were extremely lucky to be seeing them at this venue. Normally they played for significantly larger crowds, but this is where they had done one of their first shows. They tended to perform here whenever they were in town for nostalgia's sake. It being such a small place meant tickets were normally gone in a flash. Robin, the lucky bird, had won some radio contest. So not only did they get to go to a sold-out show, they got to go to a sound check and a meet and greet post-show. Truly the pinnacle of luck.

He was glad they would be arriving early. This would allow him the chance to survey his surroundings before the crowd set in. His nerves being shot ever since the final battle, as the kids had started calling it. Either way, being able to spot all of the exits before the show started and the people packed in helped. He felt some of the ever-present tension in his body abate at the thought.

He allowed himself to be tugged along by Robin who was all but skipping in excitement. It was nice to see her so amped up. Her excitement tugged at the corners of his lips, and he caught himself chuckling as they grew closer to the venue. The place was a converted bowling alley that still had a few lanes for guests to use before and after shows.

"Did I tell you we even get two free drinks? The royal treatment I tell ya. Must remind you of the good ole days." alluding to the high school nickname he grew to detest with time. She knew better than to actually call him it though. Something about it rattled his heart in the most unpleasant of ways.

"You didn't mention the drinks bird brain. Here I thought I'd be shelling out for overpriced beers. " She gave him a dead look over her shoulder. Both of them knew that he hated the taste of beer and mostly drank it for appearances in school.

They stood in line behind a handful of people, a select few also had early entry tickets. They were snapping bright red bracelets on the wrists of those with VIP entry.

In what felt like the blink of an eye, they were standing in front of a long bar. Robin was shoving a brightly colored cocktail into his hands. He had checked out again. A gift left behind from his fourth concussion. He looked at Robin with a questioning frown.

"It was about ten minutes this time." She rattled off looking at the watch she had taken to wearing when the checkouts had started. That was shorter than the last one so at least there was that. He had grounding tips for when he was at home or driving, but they tended not to work when out and about.

He nodded sluggishly and began to look at his surroundings. Ten or so people were floating around the space while a few people tinkered with equipment on stage. There were doors that led to what appeared to be a balcony, probably a smokers section. The bowling lanes glowed in various neon shades of pink, blue, and purple. They weren't in use but still shined brightly to the left of the stage. And there was the exit, perfect. He felt the slight tremble in his hands ease up when he located the doors.

"Hey Robs I'm gonna go take a quick smoke break and I'll be right back okay?" She looked at him with a question in her eyes, 'Do you need me to come?" He shook his head softly and gave a tired smile before heading for the balcony. He had quit smoking for a while at one point. But after the final showdown, late at night when the sounds of the upside down were loudest in his mind's eye, he found relief in the smoke.

As he stepped outside he noticed the air had picked up a slight chill. He set his drink down and quickly tugged his yellow sweater overhead. The worn fabric brought a level of comfort he rarely found in his closet these days.

Tugging his cigarettes out of his pocket and placing one between his lips, he came to the abrupt realization he had left his lighter in the car. He let out a quiet 'fuck'.

"You need a light?" A melodic voice asked from off to the side of him. He felt himself flinch, he hadn't noticed anyone else outside.

The link since ao3 is now back online:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48088879

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #fanfiction #fanfic #rockstar eddie munson #steve x eddie #soft steve harrington #eddie stranger things #read on ao3 #not beta read

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moontiko · 9 months

Text

⌞WARNING! This girl WILL make your heart race! ⌝

Is she pulling a prank on you? Is she trying to fight you? Or is she just that hot?

Sim for @luciidsimmer 's Star Sign CAS challenge (although a bit late, sorry 😬)!

CC and answers under the cut! ↴

☀️aspiration: ♊ friend of the world 🌛eye colour: ♏ black ⬆️ colour palette: ♌ metallics (for some reason I kept thinking the mater ☿️ skin details: ♊ birthmarks ♀️ hair colour: ♋ white ♂ hair length: ♍ medium ♃ trait 1: ♒ goofball ♄ trait 2: ♈ hot headed ♅ skin undertone: ♒ neutral ♆ teeth: ♑ straight ♇ tattoos and/or piercings: ♐ tattoos

CC ↴ 🧍🏻: body preset n3, skintone, skin overlay, eyebrows v2, eyebrows overlay, eye preset 🫐, eyes, eyebags, eyelashes, nose preset n5, nose shine, cheeks, lips preset n10, philtrum, teeth, chin, clavicle, cleavage, belly, spotlight, birthmarks, tattoos x x, hair, hair strands.

👚+ 👜: sunglasses, choker, top, gloves, rings, nails, pants, heels.

💄: eyeshadow, eyeliner, blush, highlighter, lipstick.

huuuge thank you to all the artists that have made the cc I've used! ((honestly couldn't even try to want to make a sim without them!))

@obscurus-sims @lamatisse @emmibouquet @twisted-cat @thepeachyfaerie @stretchskeleton @cloudcat @okruee @mmsims @elainasewell @pyxiidis @sammi-xox @lightdeficient @nesurii @northernsiberiawinds @simandy @simulationcowboy @kiwitrait-sims @solacedo @liliili-sims4 @simbience @serenity-cc @cloudcat @alaina-lina-cc @sentate @arethabee @joliebean @regina-raven @cosimetic @ratboysims @kumikya

#the only thing I messed up is the colour palette 😖#i'm so sorry!!#for some reason I kept thinking about the texture and not the colour #I even checked a few times and went 'yes I understood this right'#NO I DIDN'T #the only reason I gave her this top is because there's a metal chain and I was going crazy trying to find a literal metal top #should have put her in knight armor and called it a day but I didn't wanto :((#cas challenge #star sign cas challenge #also #please don't judge my birthchart I didn't choose it #my sims

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blackfern · 4 months

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heyy could u make me a black sim, female with a masculine, more punk\emo style? i love ur sim style so much id love to see what u do!

vernette brathwaite for @locustsend

HELLO HI!! as i was making this sim i realised a lot of her features reminded me of my grandma so i made her bajan as a nod to her :) absolutely nothing else about her is reminiscent of my grandma though. godbless.

tray files (sfs) | cc NOT included, click read more for links

OTHER custom trait

NOTE: it's saying i used an obscurus cheek preset that i don't remember using, i didn't include it here because i don't think i actually used it LMFAO but if she doesn't look right in your game then lmk and i'll include it in the post

#ts4 #sim request #ask #locustsend

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bonefall · 1 year

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can you tell us more about mintflower?

Mintfur RC has been renamed to Mintflower because of conflict with Mintfur SkC, and has had 30 cc of gender injected into his veins

[ID: RiverClan's Mintfur, renamed to Mintflower. He is a large, fluffy gray tabby with silver legs, ear, and chin, with a black chest, arms, and mutton chops. His eyes are orange.]

He was a Tribe cat! He was apprentice-aged when the Clans came through during the Great Journey.

He comes from a line of sheep hunters, one of the most respected abilities of Tribe cats. His old name was Asleep Sheep-by-Shade.

That said, hunting wasn't his calling, especially not big coordinated hunts like what's needed to kill sheep and eagles. He really liked healing and omen-reading, which is how he picked up Old Tribemew.

Even as a kitten, he was known for being laidback and enjoying "lazing" about, hence the name.

Asleep was really big and whispy-furred for a mountain cat, which tend to be "compact" with muscled legs and thick coats.

There was a tragedy when he was young where one parent died during a sheep hunt, and then he lost the other in Sharptooth's attack.

He got really close with Icepaw, and ended up following her to the new territory offering to help RiverClan settle into their new territory.

Asleep got chased out of RiverClan along with Stormfur and Brook Where-it-Swirls during the xenophobic surge and the false sign, but re-joined as soon as Mistystar gave him the opportunity once Leopardstar was dead.

After he had taken his name and become safely settled within Clan society, Icewing found herself considering the events of TNP. She was grateful to have her mate back, but... she had a deep suspicion that Mistystar had done something to Leopardstar. How was that okay? She didn't miss Leopardstar, and she loved Mintflower and the kittens they were expecting, but...

How could murder be okay? Even if it benefited her? Was there even a murder? Icewing needed to get to the bottom of this, and it lead her into the Dark Forest.

Misc things...

He is loosely based off a shetland sheep; I plan to model his kids off herdwicks because those are the iconic sheep breed of the Lake District, UK

Mintflower was the primary parent of the kittens.

A very, "You think he's not watching the kids because he has his eyes closed, but springs into action like a tiger when they try to put something poisonous into their mouth" kind of dad

"petal, i wasn't sleeping, i was resting. also i know youre sneaking up behind me, beetle."

Dad energy

Breezeheart, Nightsky, and Grasspelt are all being cut. His two adult children were Beetlewhisker and Petalfur, and Pricklekit, Breezekit, and Nightkit died young. Icewing didn't take it well.

Took to fishing like a PRO. He's very patient and likes to relax by the riverside.

Never minds having to take minnow-drying duty.

A below-average fighter, he doesn't have it in him to be mean. It stems from Tribe culture seeing fighting as a huge taboo, only done when you're prepared to kill or cause serious damage. It's called "making prey" of someone.

A brilliant hunter when push comes to shove, though.

He was killed by The Kin.

#Better Bones AU #Mintflower #Mintfur RC #BB!Mintflower #BB!Mintfur #Bonefall Po3 #Bonefall TNP #I wake up in the morning like ''i am going to redux a background character So Thoroughly...''

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mysticalsoot · 1 year

Text

too, more, and most

A/N: this was originally supposed to be a lil valentine's blurb but then it took a very dark turn so it won't be that unless you want it to be, and in that case then sure, this very dark fic can be a valentine's gift to you all (all 70 of you??? what the fuck??) anywho ty all for the love on my writing, can't begin to express how fucking cool that is and how thankful I am!!!

TW// very dark, death is alluded to until straight out said, sorta MCD but redeemed, lots of swearing, derealization, hallucinations, death ish. that's it I think?

Summary: Wilbur is a broken man with attachment issues, his problems only worsen after reader breaks up with him. he finds out his love isn't here anymore but finds himself discovering what true reality is his.

Pairings: cc!wilbur x reader

Pronouns: they/them and use of y/n and l/n

Words: 3,378 (forgot to add at first, sry)

masterlist

@lvrboysoot love u, elliot. sorry for the pain I'm gonna inflict upon you with this</3

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

Wilbur was picky with who he said I love you to. His family was one thing, parents, brothers—those were easy. When it came to others, friends, romantic partners—those were more difficult, more calculated when he eventually admitted it.

But once he did, he never stopped saying it. And he was stubborn, fully set that he loved you more than anything than anyone ever loved anyone else.

He would say it at least once an hour, and if he was away he'd text the words to you, followed by some stupid mushy gif. He'd write love letters readmitting his feelings for you, attaching a little wild flower he found somewhere in the garden. He'd leave it on your side of the bed and sneak away back into his office. He sat in his desk chair and pretend to work as he listened for you to open the front door. He'd wait there, patiently dilly-dallying whilst he waited for your arms to wrap around him and kiss the top of his head.

He'd follow it by saying; "I love you, darling." His hands resting on your arms that snuck around his shoulders, your chin now on the top of his head.

"I love you too," Is what you would reply with, he'd chuckle and press a kiss to your arm.

"I love you more." Wilbur wasn't one to back down on this exchange, he was sure his love for you outweighed any amount of love for anyone or anything else.

Whoever ended the exchange would say I love you most.

It always mostly worked to end the exchange. Sometimes it just wasn't enough and strings of I love you's were exchanged. The word most wasn't the end all be all, unfortunately.

Or was that even...real?

—★—

The ceiling was far from interesting, but staring at it was better than falling asleep in Wilbur's mind. The other side of the bed was cold, and the lack of warmth and a person beside him, infected his bones with the same bone-chilling temperature the sheets beside him had.

He'd reach his hand over every once and a while, subconscious habits taking over his actions, the exhaustion blurring his mind's ability to keep control.

He forgot how he loathed being alone. And he regretted not saying those words sooner. You would still be here next to him, your hand on the back of his neck, your own head nuzzled into his chest and his arm holding you close to his body, the two of you now one.

Wilbur should have said I love you a long time ago. Sleeping wouldn't be a dreaded activity and maybe the bags under his eyes wouldn't be so dark they look like black eyes anymore. He'd have a reason to move forward.

His phone had been shut off by him for a few weeks, and the bills still went through but he needed to ignore all the pleas and notifications from friends and family.

No, James, Wilbur does not want to go out drinking and talk about it. He'd much rather have anything else.

And no, Tommy, Wilbur didn't want to join your next vlog at the beach. Do you want him to break down?

Jack asked to come over and play some Mario Kart with him to take his mind off things. They all had valid concerns and they were only doing their best but he didn't want to do anything.

Not when he could have prevented the situation he's in, he's in a void, and he has no purpose as far as he's concerned.

Ash was the most gentle of them all, he asked if Wilbur was okay a few times, always following it up with "you don't have to talk about it, just know that I'm here". He was kind, quiet, and gentle. Wilbur had genuinely contemplated answering his friend, spilling his guts on how it was his fault and that there wasn't anything he could do that would mend it, everything was gone and it was his fault. But he didn’t he kept his thoughts and feelings to himself.

He kept the too, more, and most to himself. He couldn’t tell you, so why tell anyone? It was best held close to his heart like an unforgiving secret, one that if spilled would put a ripple in space and time. So it was a secret forever held behind the bars of heartbreak.

He tried peeling himself out of bed, wiping his face of old dried tears--he couldn't cry anymore so the saltwater stains on his cheeks were days old, or maybe weeks, Wilbur couldn't tell. It took him a few minutes to coax his aching and tired body to sit up at the least--and even more time to convince himself to turn his phone back on. Maybe he would regret doing so, maybe he wouldn’t but the only way to know was to just..do it. So he did, the screen on his phone lit up, the classic white apple illuminating his face as he waited there, his eyes glued to the screen as it booted up. A few seconds and five password attempts later, his phone was unlocked and in the sms app.

He gravitated towards the last messages with you, it didn't take much convincing for him to open it and when he did, it felt like a train hit him. All of the emotions—the regret, the pain—came flooding back to him.

The last message he ever got from you was "I love you". He mentally kicked himself for never saying it and he threw his phone down on his bed, regret bubbling up his throat and he pulled on his hair. Dry, pained sobs escape his chest and he's shaking. This is so stupid. I'm so stupid. His thoughts ran wild, taunting him, stabbing him. Looking him in the face and telling him how this is all his fault. It's all his fault. It has to be all his fault.

He begins shaking, pulling his legs up to his chest, and wraps his arms around his knees, shoving his face between them. No tears fall, and the sobs lessen, although no less painful than before. He tries to take deep breaths, pushing the image of your last message to him that's burned into his vision, further and further from his consciousness. If his brain can push every other bad memory away, why won't it hide this one? God, he's so stupid—what person forces themselves to face the one thing that tore them apart? Wilbur would be it. He is the one to do that and he regrets it.

His breathing slows to a steady pace, and he drops his hands from his hair. He wants to curl up inside himself and just shrivel up until he's nothing but particles in the air. And he wants to, he really wants to. But he promised himself he would go out today and do something helpful for himself. Maybe some fresh air would help.

Or maybe it'll just remind him of you

Either way, he needed out. His bed was beginning to feel claustrophobic and the walls of his room felt like they were closing in on him. Not to mention he hasn't showered in at least a week, and the last time he did shower, James had forced him and stood outside the bathroom door the entire way because he knew Wilbur would try and trick him.

He lifted his blankets and tossed them to the side, throwing his legs over the side of his bed and pushing himself up to stand. His legs wobbled for a moment in a lack of use and then he mindlessly brought himself to his dresser, grabbing a sweater and some jeans, and whatever else he needed before his legs brought him to the bathroom and he turned on the shower.

The water burned his skin but was somehow comforting in the way he turned red as the water hit him. It burned, but it was nice. It was an unfortunate reminder he was alive, and this was real. But perhaps, a cold shower would be even worse, so the reminder of his reality through burning hot water droplets on his skin was a much better alternative than cold ice water douching him in the painful realization of never being able to get you back.

That was worse than anything. That you were forever to never be his again.

It wasn't much longer that he stood under the hot water, and then he soon stepped out, hurriedly wrapping himself in a towel to avoid the chilling cold you always feel after a boiling shower. He doesn't bother to change whilst in the bathroom, but instead snatches his clothes from the cluttered sink counter and pulls open the door, bringing himself back to the warmth of his room while he slips on his clothes, his sweater being last after a T-Shirt underneath.

He knew that if he made any more contemplation over whether he should go outside or not, he'd never make it past his bedroom door. So he was quick in grabbing his keys and wallet before slipping out of his bedroom door followed by his apartment door. He quickly locked the door until it clicked and hurried down the stairs. The faster he got downstairs, the less time he had to rethink his decisions.

He's quick to push open the clear entrance door to his apartment building, passing by some of his neighbors he's never met and then he's out of the stuffy building. He's hit with a wave of wind, hitting the tip of his nose, and the cool scent warming him in calm comfort. It's nice to feel comfort again, it's so, so nice.

He stands there for a moment, taking in the cool, fresh air. To passersby, he looks like an idiot who's most likely high—but in reality, he's a broken man who hasn't left his house in weeks and feels he no longer has a purpose. Neither version is a good one, but what he really is, is much better than the alternative.

He pauses for a moment, taking in what's around him. Wilbur didn't think about what he was going to do past walking outside, so now he's stuck. Maybe he could go right back inside or maybe he—

There's a shadow of a person on the beach, or maybe it just looks like a shadow—but something about it draws him to it. Where the shadow seems to pace on the beach—the person-shaped shadow—isn't far from where he stands in front of his apartment building. He's curious, and the curiosity gets to him and he's hurriedly walking over to the stairs that lead down to the beach. He doesn't waste any time finding that damned shadow, he doesn't even know why he wants to know what it is, so badly. But he does, he really does and his hurried walking turns to jogging until he's full-out sprinting on the pebble beach, the saltwater-twisted air hitting his nose sharply.

The shadow becomes more and more of a human shape the closer he gets to it. And then he's a foot away. And the shadow turns around to face him. And it isn't a shadow anymore. It's a person. It's a fucking person. But it isn't just any person, no, no—it's you.

It's you. It's you. It's you. Oh god, it's you.

But you don't look…alive. You look dead, gone. You're practically transparent and he wonders if this is what it was like for people to see Ghostbur if the DreamSMP was real. Dear god, you're dead. Or are you? Maybe he's just hallucinating, maybe he spent too long in his flat and now his mind doesn't know what reality is and so it's tricking itself into believing you're here. But as a shadow.

He wants to run so badly but something keeps him angered onto the pebble-covered beach. Why can’t he stop looking at you? And why in all things good can he not move?

“Y/N,” It’s the only thing he utters, and it's broken and quiet in the way he says it.

You simply stare at him, his expression cracking and shattering in the same way his heart does all over again, and then you’re gone again. You simply poof into thin air.

He takes hours before he can drag himself back to his flat, and he still hasn’t figured out if what he saw was real or not--but he’d rather not dwell on that for now. He just needs to get back home, he didn't even bring his phone with him, who knows how many people have tried contacting him whilst he was on his..walk. You could call it a walk, that’s for sure.

The door is opened haphazardly, and he nearly bangs his head against the side of it, not noticing his surroundings. He takes the stairs, his steps slow and by no means careful, and then hes on his floor, dragging himself to his flat. He unlocks the door until it clicks and then beelines for his room and snatches his phone off his bed.

He has a few dozen messages from friends, some from his parents and brothers--but he ignores them all and goes straight to safari;

Y/N L/N obituary

He presses the search button and turns his phone screen away from himself, face down in his lap. Wilbur has been offline for weeks--anything could’ve happened--and who would tell him anyways? Plus, who’s to say what felt like weeks to him, hasn't been months?

A few moments later and with some reassurance from himself, he turns the screen back to face him and his eyes glance to the first result.

Y/N dead at 26, drowned at brighton beach

It’s dated four months ago.

But they broke up with him three weeks ago? You were alive mere weeks ago! How did this--how did this happen?

It was your ghost he saw, that much he knows.

You died.

God…

You’re dead.

Wilbur finds tears sliding down his cheeks, droplets plopping onto his phone screen and he pulls the sleeve of his sweater over his hand to wipe away the salty liquid from his face and he sniffles.

How didn’t he know? Why didn’t anyone tell him?

He should go back to the beach.

The beach sounds great…maybe he’ll find you again, maybe he can ask questions and get answers for all of the wonders wandering his mind.

That’s what he should do.

And so he does, but this time he takes a blanket and his phone with him.

It’s the same path as before but now he knows where he’s going when he steps outside and its dark now. The biting cold wind of dusk hits his face in a harsh sharpness, but he moves on and continues walking, blanket rested over his arm and head held up as he looks around for you.

He spots you on an old pier and is quick to follow you, walking up the crickety stairs, being slow and careful with his steps, cautious to not spook the ghost of you again. He has questions that need answers, and scaring you away does him no good.

He keeps walking to the edge of the pier, there aren’t any railings, and its entirely open. He stops when hes one to two feet away from you and he drops the blanket on the planks of wood below. He looks up from the ground, eyes meeting your shadowy figure slowly revealing details about you, although still transparent, you aren’t just a shadowy figure.

“Hello, love,” Wilbur is sure to put on a soft smile when he speaks, and you shake your head at him, looking down.

You look up, head tilting and bottom lip poking out as a taunt, “I’m not your love,”

“I--I know you’re dead but--”

“No,” is all you say, and then you’re gone again.

Wilbur wants to break down again, decompose, and scream and sob and cry. But instead, he just stands there in cowardice. He doesn’t move, he simply stands in silence. He finds himself walking towards the edge of the pier and then he sits down, legs dangling over the water.

He wonders what would---

No, Wilbur, no.

He recoils. Pulls his legs up. Backs away from the edge. He feels someone push him. He pushes back and tries to find the source of said force--it’s just him up here. But he keeps pushing against the force trying to knock him off and he’s doing a great job of it--until he doesn’t and then he’s plummeting down and he twists in the air as he falls and something in his mind speaks.

“Your end is the same as your love’s”

And then it's all black.

The next thing he knows he’s choking up water or what feels like choking up water. But he doesn’t feel like he’s in water and-- But hes awake? Alive? It feels dry around him but he still can’t see.

He tries crying out, his eyes practically glued shut and he can’t force them open.

He jolts up and his eyes shoot open, his eyes frantically search the room, it's dark and he can barely see anything and then he sees an outline of a person; you. But you’re dead! And he’s dead!

Or is he, or are you? He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know anything anymore.

The shadow-like figure--you, kneel down in front of him, hands on his shoulders and your features come into view; eyebrows knitted in concern, eyes wide with fear, and mouth agape with worry.

“Love,” You inch closer to him and he backs away in fear, breathing rapid and labored, “Are you okay?” You pull your hands away in response to his skittishness.

He shakes his head, “You’re supposed to be dead,” His voice is quiet and it cracks when he speaks like he hasn’t spoken in months.

“What?”

He just shakes his head and pulls his legs up to his chest, hiding the lower half of his face between his knees, eyes the only thing in vision and his gaze is locked on you--completely unwavering.

“I’m not going to hurt you, my darling,” You put your hand out as an offering and he takes it into consideration, eyeing it like it has the chance to burn him.

“You won’t leave?” Wilbur’s eyes glance to yours for a moment before refocusing back onto your offered hand.

You shake your head, a soft smile donning your lips, “Never,”

He utters a small ‘ok’ and takes your hand and a few moments later he catapults himself into your arms. Heavy sobs ricocheted out of his chest. Your arms wrap tightly around him, and his own arms do the same for you. The two of you sit there in silence, the only noises are of the fan set up in your room or the sound of his cries as you hold him.

“I love you,” His voice is soft, small but he means it. He means it so much more than you could know.

“I love you too, bur,” You place a kiss on his temple, your hand reaching to tangle with his hair, “so, so much,”

He hums in response and another silence blankets the two of you in comfortable warmth, and then you’re the one to break it this time;

“What happened?”

He shrugs, “So much,”

You rest your chin atop his head, one hand playing with his hair and the other rubbing his back, “Wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head, “No,” He pauses, gears turning in his head as he mulls over what to say next, “I love you more, by the way,”

A small, joyous laugh escapes your throat, “And I love you most.”

The two of you spend the rest of the evening like that, in each other's arms, muttering reassurances of your love for the other--and eventually, he tells you of all he’s experienced. And you feel horrible, your heart aches for him but you’re happy he’s in your arms now.

And he smiles.

He knows you’re not going anywhere and he knows you love him too, more, and most.

#wilbur soot #cc!wilbur #cc!wilbur x reader #dsmp wilbur #wilbur #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x gn!reader #wilbur x you #wilbur is a sad lil wet cat #im so sorry for this #i am too broke to pay for anyones therapy after this sorry #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot angst #wilbur soot hurt/comfort #sorry man #implied sbi #sbi #sorta

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cozy-kitty-corner · 7 months

Text

SBI Whumptober Day 6 - coughing up blood and “just breathe.” In which Tubbo has Hanahaki disease, and Ranboo finds out. Based off of the characters, never the CCs!!

A loud knocking on the bathroom door startled Tubbo enough that he jerked towards it.

“Yes?” He croaked.

“Tubbo, are you okay? You’ve been in here for an hour and you didn’t answer my first five knocks.” That was… Ranboo. Yes. And- Tubbo had been in here for that long? It only felt like a few minutes.

He looked back at the toilet in front of him, studying the bloody petals filling the bowl.

There were three flower types now. Before there had only been two. He needed to look up the meaning once he got out.

Tubbo snapped towards the door as a *bang* rang out and the white painted wood slammed into the wall.

Ranboo stormed through, and visibly paled.

Tubbo couldn’t exactly blame him, with the way the shorter looked.

(Blood dribbling down his chin, half sightless eyes with eyebags on his eyebags. Flower petals and twigs strewn down his front.)

The masked man rushed forward, gently lifting Tubbo out of his awkward sprawl on the linoleum.

(Distantly, Tubbo realized that he had lost all feeling in his legs.)

That wasn’t anything to care about though, because Ranboo was holding him up. Ranboo’s hands were touching Tubbo’s back, Ranboo’s arms were tucked around Tubbo, Ranboo was *so close* to Tubbo.

His brain shorted out as Ranboo leant over the shorter’s shoulder, black and white hair tickling Tubbo’s forehead as Ranboo gasped and pushed just far enough away to see Tubbo’s face.

“Tubbo, why are there flowers in that toilet. Do you have *Hanahaki?*”

Tubbo froze for just a moment, before slumping and nodded defeatedly.

His heart broke as Ranboo pulled Tubbo back close to him again. “‘M s’ry.” He mumbled into Ranboo’s shoulder, ignoring the rapid fire pace of his heart.

“Tubbo, don’t apologize. Who is it? Cause we need to get you to tell them, or you’re going to *die.*”

(Would that be such a bad thing, at this point? He’d rather die than ruin what Ranboo and him had.)

“It’s.. someone.”

Ranboo sighed, then bent down and scooped Tubbo up, ignoring the other’s yelp.

(Oh my Prime oh my Prime oh my *Prime!* Ranboo was holding him so close, and burying his face into Tubbo’s curls, and Tubbo wasn’t breathing.)

As Ranboo lay Tubbo down onto the couch, the shorter took a gulp of air, immediately doubling over and hacking so hard he thought his organs were all going to fall out.

Ranboo was back at his side in an instant, one hand rubbing Tubbo’s back, and the other shifting him up to lean against the bicoloured boy.

“You’re okay, you’ve got this. Just breathe Tubbo, *don’t stop breathing.*”

Panic bled through his calm tone in thick blotches, and a stab of guilt shot through Tubbo.

After a few moments, he slumped back into Ranboo’s side, freeing himself of all weight.

(Except for the weight of his heart, of course.)

When Ranboo spoke again, his words were significantly more urgent.

“Okay, who is it Tubbo? I need you to tell them. I can’t lose you, okay? You’re my best friend.”

And, despite the exhaustion flowing thick and syrupy through Tubbo’s veins, that sparked anger.

“That’s why I can’t say anything!” He shoved away from Ranboo, barely even feeling guilty for the bewildered look on Ranboo’s face.

“W-what do you mean, Tubs?”

“I mean that I can’t confess because that could ruin everything I have! You’re all I have, Boo.”

Ranboo’s confusion just grew, and Tubbo sagged, the anger washing away just as quickly as the tsunami had filled his veins.

“I can’t confess, because we’re *friends.* And that’s all we are.”

He watched, ruined, as it slowly dawned on Ranboo. As his very *soul* slowly realized everything that he meant to Tubbo.

Then, he turned, and stumbled away as fast as he could.

He didn’t even stop when Ranboo reached out a hand to stop him, only wrenching his shoulder away with adrenaline fueled strength and closing the door to his room.

All five locks went on, and Tubbo collapsed onto the bed.

By the time that Ranboo managed to break in, his best friend’s eyes were already sightless.

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