sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ɴᴇᴡ

In the spring we made a boat Out of feathers, out of bones. We set fire to our homes, Walking barefoot in the snow. Distant rhythm of the drum As we drifted towards the storm. Baby lion lost his teeth, Now they're swimming in the sea. Troubled spirits on my chest Where they laid to rest. The birds all left, my tall friend, As your body hit the sand. Million stars up in the sky Formed a tiger's eye That looked down on my face, Out of time and out of place. So hold on. Hold on to what we are. Hold on to your heart.

[kobybraune-blog]

💌 — ᴏᴘᴇɴ

KB: hi. i had to call in sick today. i think i might have eaten some spoiled food :(

KB: one day i'll learn how to cook

KB: i'm not sure what to do with myself right now though. what do people do when they aren't at work?

[kobybraune-blog]

just your daily shout into the void that i’d love some more plots pls :’) or threads in general? in fact hmu if you want a closed starter and i’ll type one up tomorrow (it’s almost 5am right now). pls. 

[kobybraune-blog]

wrcnn:

Of course. Of course they have to play into some cliché, like something right out of a cheesy romance film that Wren would generally have no interest in. None of them are realistic, see. None of them are what happens in real life. Wren knows it for a fact, right? Wren knows that things like this don’t just happen, that sims don’t just stumble into their life and make them like them and make them want to kiss them and make them feel things they normally don’t. And they certainly don’t pull embarrassing lines while looking at Wren like they comprise the entirety of the world, wrapping them up in every bit of their attention, so thick and so soft that they feel completely and totally warm. No less nervous, though. Adrenaline spikes in them as Koby comes closer, as their hand lifts to cup Wren’s cheek, and as they turn their face into it a bit like they’re begging for touch. For their touch specifically. Maybe they are. They are. A soft breath leaves from between their lips, and hazel eyes are wide open, their pulse stuttering and hammering so loud they almost don’t hear the question past the brush of their noses. Oh, gods. They have no idea what they’re doing, standing here like this, trying to picture the one moment in all of those horrid films when everything came together. Is this Wren’s moment? Is this Koby’s? Maybe it’s one of many for them. Maybe that should make it better. But it’s not for Wren. It’s the only one.

“This isn’t The Notebook or something.” They breathe, and they’re tilting their head, rising up to the balls of their feet and placing their hands on either of Koby’s shoulders. Touching is something they’re melting into a little quicker than the actual concept of kissing, and they’re so anxious they’re shaking, fingertips trembling slightly when they slide their palm up over their neck, to their jaw. They touch there, gentle, tentative, but they don’t pull away. They only press themself closer, until their clothes are brushing, and they’re sure the jumper is riding up the small of their back again. That’s fine. They’re stretching for this, the height difference somewhat obnoxious, and when they exhale again, it’s right against Koby’s cheek. Another nose bump, and maybe a small nuzzle. “Yeah, I mean – yes. Uh. I’ve never kissed anyone before? Ever. I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t – I’m not like, going to be able to just… do it well…” They trail off, eyelashes fluttering, and they don’t know what they’re saying anymore, but they can’t seem to stop the words from coming, whispered now, quiet and delicate despite their rambling, annoying nature, “so I wouldn’t have high expectations if I were you? I mean, like I said, this isn’t some kind of movie, I’m not, uh, leading role material. So. Yeah, it’s yours, but if it’s not – if it’s not any good, that’s… That’s your problem.”

“The Notebook?” a quirk of a quizzical brow follows, though their faces are so close together that perhaps it’ll go entirely unnoticed by the younger Sim. They’ve never really been one for watching TV or movies in general, and those sorts of books aren’t the type they usually lean toward. They think that it was perhaps supposed to be an insult (playful in nature), though they’re sadly lacking the knowledge needed to understand the reference and are instead left perplexed. Amused, but perplexed. Whatever it is, it doesn’t appear to have put Wren off any, given their body language is practically begging. It’s a rush -- one unlike any they’ve really experienced before. They’ve shared first kisses, all of which were special in and of their own right, but this... this is different. This is Wren’s first kiss, and clearly that means something to the older Sim. But really, who are they kidding? Wren’s second, third, fourth and fiftieth kisses would all mean as much if any of them were gifted to them in this way. 

The height difference isn’t something that ever goes unnoticed, but it is drawn into startlingly clear focus when the younger is having to stand on tip toe and stretch their beautiful body up just to nuzzle at their cheek. It’s endearing beyond belief, as is the rambling that soon follows. They should have expected it, shouldn’t they? Though it seems as though everything with Wren is always fresh and new. They keep Koby on their toes despite all of the domestic routines they share together. This small Sim is a well of information and knowledge, with a dazzling character as awe inspiring as what they have to impart. They listen to the rambling (for the most part), and the pad of their thumb drags across Wren’s lip, waiting for them to finish so that said lips will stay in place for long enough. Maybe they’ll even manage to catch their breath in that time, but that’s a stretch.  

“I can think of far worse problems,” they hum, teasing and reassuring all at once, and before Wren has a chance to doubt themself and their ability any further, Koby is doing something they’ve been dreaming of doing for months. When their lips meet, every cliché line that could be found in the pages of The Notebook or walk straight off the set of the newest Twilight knock-off come to mind, and none of them are enough to describe the sensation. 

[kobybraune-blog]

josephinexeaston:

“I got behind on all my work since i’d been sick. I just couldn’t let it pile up any longer.” She smiled bringing the drink to her lip. 

“Oh-- I’m sorry to hear that you’ve been sick. You’re feeling better now, I hope?” they give her a gentle smile, watching her take another drink of something they don’t recognise. They certainly don’t have any Mixology potential.

[baerruecodiego]

[kobybraune-blog]

josephinexeaston:

“Sorting through a weeks worth of work in six hours, I say I earned one of these.”

“So much work all at once? Was there a reason you had to do it all in the space of six hours? And I suppose if a drink is how you wish to reward yourself then yes, you must’ve earned it.”

[kobybraune-blog]

hey if anyone would like to write or plot or anything then pls let me know. koby and i are in desperate need of things to do!!

[kobybraune-blog]

wrcnn:

Wren always feels like they’re waiting for something. Their heart is in their throat as they go through the simple act of lighting their candles, body still stretching as they move to another shelf, and they can feel their eyes on them like they could feel a physical caress. Their sweater is riding up the small of their back, and he cool air is on their exposed sliver of skin, the sensation contrasting heavily with the heat in their cheeks. It’s not like impending doom, but more like acute anticipation, and it’s funny, because partly they have no idea what it is they’re waiting on. No idea what to do with it, though they fantasise about it enough to make just the thought send a thrill through their chest. It would be… Well, it would be ridiculous of them to not notice the way Koby is with them. To not notice how they treat them, touch them, spend as much of their time with them as possible. They normally try not to read too much into things, at least when it comes to matters of intimacy with other Sims, but this – this they can’t seem to stop thinking about. 

Once the last candle is lit, they’re letting out a sigh, coming down flat on their feet and reaching to pull their sweater into place. When they turn around, they don’t immediately look at Koby, instead casting their eyes down to allow their lashes to fan out over their cheeks. They place to lighter down in a little hand-blown glass bowl that seems to be the place they put everything from their keys to concealer to a little eye-shadow palette. It isn’t often they use it, but they still trail their fingertips over it before straightening back up. “Right. Well.” They begin, a little stunted, and then they take a deep breath, visibly relaxing their shoulders in a bid to make themself appear less skittish. In order to be settled. “You can have anything you want?” They don’t know why, but it comes out as a question, and they lift their gaze to their face, all flickering candlelight over the slope of their cheekbones, their mouth. it’s a lot. Everything feels like a lot. “Um.” They need to shut up. Right now. 

Koby believes in energies. They believe in something, though they’ve never quite landed on what, and right now they truly believe they can feel the air filling between them. Something. Something more. It’s hard to put a name to, since it isn’t truly palpable. It’s a sensation, not entirely born of an emotion, but certainly not all physical -- and it makes them feel as though they’re being drawn into some sort of gravitational pull. Or perhaps the world’s axis has changed, and now they’re the very centre of it all. It all sounds a bit dramatic, a bit cliché, and yet right now it’s the one thing that feels entirely real to the older Sim. With Wren’s lashes fanning across flushed cheeks and fingers delicately grazing over objects in the most absent of ways (and yet calculated, looking for a distraction from their bashful nature, no doubt), Koby is utterly captivated. They can barely breathe the air, dense as it is, by the time Wren looks up at them, and they no longer know what expression their own features are sculpting.

“Anything?” it’s taken a moment for them to find their voice and settle on a response, eyes blazing anew as they make their way further into the room and toward the other Sim. There’s only one thing Koby wants right now, and they need to be sure. They need to be positive that it’s their’s to have, and not something they’ll be stealing away from their counterpart. In case their intent wasn’t clear enough already, they’re raising their hand in an all-too-familiar fashion, bringing a large palm up to engulf a rose tinted cheek, cradling Wren’s sweet face in their hand as the pad of their thumb brushes against the younger’s lower lip. They’ve seen their gaze dragging toward their lips, and now it’s Koby’s turn to repay the favour in kind, dark hues fixated as the soft flesh moves beneath their caress. A small bump of their noses together is all that follows; it isn’t much, but it’s new territory. It’s leading. “Can I have this?”

[baerruecodiego]

[kobybraune-blog]

wrcnn:

Wren tries to ward off the sudden rush of heat to their cheeks, hiding the curve to their lips behind the rim of the mug. They look up at Koby from that position, taking another sip of the tea with slow intent, and then lowering it down in their hands. After that their chin lifts, and they flit their gaze away with some effort, towards the stairs. “Thank you.” They say that first and foremost, unable to carry on without being at least somewhat polite, and then they let out a small sigh as they stand and stretch out their spine. It’s satisfying – they’d been sat there far too long. Wren can feel Koby’s gaze on them like a physical caress, and they ignore the goosebumps on their skin, the urge they have to shiver. They’ve never actually felt like this around another sim before, and every reaction they have is foreign to them, intoxicating in a way. It takes a lot for them to warm up to somebody – it takes even more for them to warm up enough to consistently harbour the urge to curl up in their lap, small and protected. They brush off the thought with a physical shudder, trying not to sink too far into it, and then they nod in the direction they plan to walk. “Wanna go upstairs.” They’ll have to if they’re gonna eat anything. The kitchenette down here doesn’t have what they need to actually prepare food.

“I’ve got, uh, some things you can eat. We can both eat, really. No soy.” They smile a little ruefully at them as they begin to walk, casting a glance over their shoulder that looks as soft as they feel right now. They turn back as they begin to walk up the stairs, one at a time, though they’ve tried in the past to be one of those people who take two. It doesn’t work very well. Right now, they’re just focused on keeping their breathing even – gravity isn’t really their friend, and they’d rather not be panting like an overheated dog when they reach the top. Luckily, it’s not very far, and they seem to be as paced and even as ever once they’re there. The stairwell leads directly into their lounge, modestly decorated and done predominantly in easy-on-the-eyes neutral shades. There are splashed of red here and there, a load of candles, and Wren immediately walks over to one of the various floating shelves on their wall to light a few with a lighter they retrieve from their pocket (they like to keep incense going downstairs at all times, so they tend to always have one on then). Their mum made them, and they smell of balsam and cedar. It’s lovely. Wren ignores how they have to stretch up onto their tip toes to actually reach.

The simple lift of Wren’s chin has warm tingles spreading throughout Koby’s being, images flitting behind their eyelids with each flutter. They consider reaching forward, cupping the other Sim’s soft skin in their hand and pressing a kiss to their lips. They don’t go through with it -- not yet. They’ve waited so long now and they’re willing to wait a little longer until they’re experiencing one of those moments again; the world consisting of only the two of them and their shared need to connect on some level that cannot be explained with words, only actions. They’re sure a moment like that is around the corner, particularly with how strongly they’re already feeling the urge. It’s enough to bring a smile to their features, dark hues burning a little brighter in anticipation. Wren’s shudder doesn’t slip through the cracks. Koby drinks it in with a rumble in their chest, pleased in the knowledge that the next will come with Wren in their arms -- preferably with their lips meeting. 

“Lead the way,” they murmur, fondness leaking into their tone despite the simplicity of what’s taking place. Or perhaps because of it, so domestic is the desire to go upstairs with this Sim and cook together, eat together, share in each other’s company. The soft glance they receive is enough in and of itself to have long legs striding to catch up, caught in the other’s magnetic pull (one Koby isn’t sure Wren’s even aware they have). They reach the top of the stairs almost in sync with the smaller Sim, eyes drinking in the familiar room and scents that only intensify as Wren begins lighting candles. It’s with the hungry gaze of a starving man that they watch them on their tip toes, body stretching out with such beautiful curves and soft edges catching Koby’s attention. They want to explore every inch, map it out beneath gentle caresses and delicate fingertips dancing along such perfect slopes; exploring and discovering treasures with each step of the journey. They’re finding it exceedingly hard to keep their mind away from such thoughts tonight, usually able to keep themself as unaffected as possible. Right now, they’re under Wren’s spell, and it’s exciting. Refreshing. Electric. They don’t speak another word into the silence, letting the charged air do it for them as they wait for Wren to turn and see the way they’re being watched. Koby wants the younger to read on their face just how beautiful they are. How admired they are by the elder. If seeing is truly believing, then Koby wants to leave no doubts in Wren’s mind. 

[kobybraune-blog]

wrcnn:

“Why? You got somewhere to be?” Wren’s voice is level, only vaguely teasing, and there’s a burst of a smile over their face that scrunches up their cheeks into their eyes. It fades quickly enough, only because they’re concentrating, and they securely tie the little pouch they’d been meticulously filling with some twine. It’s not exactly jewellery, no, but it is something else they sell in their shop that they definitely are more prone to hand-making than to getting from outside sources. It smells of lavender and of sage, and they bring up to their nose to take an experimental whiff. They seem satisfied with it, another slightly smaller smile curving up their lips now. When they hold it out to Koby, they raise their gaze to their face at the same time, a sense of accomplishment washing over them like it always does when they complete even a menial task. “It’s the perfect mix. It’ll ward off negative energy, smells, and spirits, if need be. As long as the space isn’t too haunted. Ghost Sims are so annoying sometimes. Is that for me?” They’ve caught sight of the mug beside them, not actually having noticed before, and they reach for it with their free hand, pulling it in close to their body with a satisfied hum.

Everything is bathed in a soft orange, and they blink as if realising for the first time that it’s actually gotten late. The sun does go down at night, they’re aware, but they’re still searching for the clock on the wall, registering the hour and then blinking at it like it’s betrayed them or something. They don’t remember so long having passed, but they figure Koby must be right in their assessment that Wren has been hyper-focused. It’s not totally out of the ordinary or anything, just – they usually savour the time they spend with the other Sim a lot more. Try to drag it out. Perhaps it’s time to start doing that now.

“Nope -- I’m exactly where I want to be,” well, that’s a white lie. Currently they’d like to be settled into Wren’s chair with the younger Sim seated upon their lap, folded into their embrace with their scent tantalising their nose. They feel no desire to divulge their omission currently, saving it for later perhaps; once Wren is finished with the project they’re clearly passionate about. Koby watches on with candid fascination as the small pouch is lifted for Wren to inhale, seeming to pass some sort of test unknown to them. They take the offering, mirroring the smaller’s actions from moments previous. Fragrance assaults their senses as the fabric brushes against their skin, lavender washing over them pleasantly and instantly soothing them. One of their very favourite scents, no doubt about it. It’s kept them company on many a night where sleep seemed elusive. They listen to Wren’s explanation, smiling as they drink in their every word. “I’m sure whoever purchases it will rest easy knowing they’re so well protected,” like a dream catcher for the supernatural, cleansing their surroundings. It sounds so refreshing that Koby contemplates buying it for themself and their private room. 

“Yes, for you,” they add, though evidently there’s no need, given that the other Sim has already lifted the offering and drawn it into their curvaceous body with a sense of welcoming. Jealousy is a very foreign emotion to Koby, though they find themself wishing to be that mug. There’s amusement quirking their lips as they take a sip, regarding the other over the brim as they scan the room as if in surprise. “Rather late, isn’t it? Are you hungry?” tea might be enough to soothe some of the emptiness in their stomachs, but it’s no lasting remedy. Maybe this time they’ll be able to successfully prepare a grilled (vegan) cheese for Wren without setting the kitchen on fire -- oh, one can hope.

[kobybraune-blog]

gavinjwolfe:

“Boo!” Gavin laughed as he jumped out of the box, looking around to see who had found him afterwards, “Thank god, I was beginning to think no one would ever find me, and then I would have sat in there forever for nothing. I probably would have ended up falling asleep or something.” 

Startled, a breath hitches in the tall Sim’s chest, their dark hues widening for a moment as the realisation of the other’s prank begins to sink in. They let out a chuckle once the initial shock has worn off, smiling down at the other. “Were you in there a long time? I hope my reaction was worth going without fulfilling your other needs,” their voice is melodic with good humour, eyes crinkled at the corners. 

[kobybraune-blog]

The sun has faded into the horizon, leaving dusk in it’s wake as Koby settles inside Wren’s shop. Their own closed an hour or so ago, though as the workaholic they happen to be, they’ve brought some ‘home’ with them into a place so comfortable it can be mistaken for such. It’s an all too regular routine, given the close proximity of their establishments, along with the close proximity of their relationship. They finished working on their latest sketch only ten minutes earlier, and have since been in the small kitchen area. In their grasp they hold two steaming mugs of herbal tea, chosen specifically to help them both relax after a long day. There’s a dash of something sweet inside, something they’re sure will bring a pleasant little curve to Wren’s lips. Some sort of warmth unfurls inside of their belly in anticipation of it as they carry the beverages over toward where the younger of the pair has been studiously working away. Jewellery, Koby would assume, though maybe they’ll be surprised tonight and be indulged in learning more about another of Wren’s skills. They enjoy nothing more than listening to them, the passion in their voice never going unnoticed  or lacking the appropriate admiration and reverence Koby believes it deserves. 

“Almost done for the night?” they query, voice lilting and soft like the warm glow trailing in through the windows, basking them in their very own sunset. One cup is placed beside Wren, the other clutched firm in Koby’s left hand as they raise the right to rest long fingers gently upon the smaller’s shoulder, dipping down to press a kiss to their soft, fluffy locks. “What’re you working on? You seem especially focused this evening.” | @wrcnn

[kobybraune-blog]

izzycartcr:

“Ugh, what time is it?” The brunette sim asked as she got out of her bed. “Can I go back to sleep forever please? My bed is my friend, it keeps me safe from this cruel, cruel world.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” they have the decency to look sheepish upon realising their intrusion. “It’s past noon, I figured you’d be awake -- my mistake. I’ll leave you to your slumber.”

[kobybraune-blog]

josephinexeaston:

“Ugh yup that is flat.” Jo spoke mainly to herself as she still swallowing the content. She was still making as face as she smacked her lips and placed it down. “You take what you get right?” She chuckled turning to the person next to her.

Long fingers are wrapped around a cool glass, condensation making the pads of their fingers wrinkle and prune. Surveying the other, one shaped brow is raised in her direction. There’s a sympathetic smile gracing their lips as they speak. “Would you like me to fetch you another? You shouldn’t have to drink it if it’s so foul.” 

[buffmen]

[kobybraune-blog]

hello all, i’m jamie ( they/them ), and i’m here with a rather old and treasured baby of mine, koby. i’m going to write some quick phahahaha facts about them beneath the cut, but their full stats can be found here for anyone who’s interested! also i’m up for all the plots and connections i can get, so shoot me a message or give this a like and we can get this show on the road. 

jakob lukas braune, though 99% of the time they go by koby. they’re agender and very open about it, using only they/them pronouns as that’s what makes them the most comfortable. they’ll understand people slipping on first glance, but they won’t take too kindly to those who choose to be ignorant toward it. 

home life was pretty great for the first few years of koby’s life -- loving parents and a twin sibling that they adored. it wasn’t until they were a little older that shit hit the fan and news of their father’s affair came to light. 

their father was a very rich man, and in the divorce their mother got half of everything, which was enough to establish their new life away from him as he went about starting a new family. koby has not seen or spoken to him since, though they’re vaguely aware that they have half siblings. 

extremely close to their mother and sibling and have been all their life, although it became strained during their teen years.

struggling with the anger of what their father had done to their family, along with trying to settle into a new environment, rebuilding connections and trying to fit in amongst their peers, things in high school did not go well for koby. 

their gender and sexuality was usually a target for other students, and on top of that, they’d yet to come to terms with the idea themself. their mother was very understanding and kind, but she could only protect them in the safety of their four walls.

fights were a regular part of koby’s day to day life, a necessity, though it only made things worse. 

age 16, koby took up an apprenticeship at a local tattoo parlour. of course they were too young to do much of anything, so they made coffee, they cleaned up, and they got to know like minded people. they built a home away from home, a haven. 

by age 18 when koby could begin practising the art of tattooing, they’d begun to accept and embrace themself and a sense of calm and clarity came over them with it.

they knuckled down, worked hard, and now own their very own tattoo parlour 6 years later. 

they’re nothing like the angry, troubled child that life tried to chew up and spit out. they’ve learned how to channel their emotions in healthy ways, nose tucked into books with incense burning sweetly in the background, soft melodic music and of course a good cup of herbal tea. 

they have a great gentleness about them, a calm aura that surrounds them and embraces those around them.

they still get dysphoric from time to time, particularly when their body doesn’t fit into the sorts of clothes they’d like to wear because they’re shaped to fit that societies ideas of a cis-female body, but they have coping mechanisms and for the most part can see their body as nothing but a home to who they are on the inside and will decorate it very androgynous.

they’re very friendly, always honest, and would do just about anything for anyone to an extent. they do enjoy time alone and can be relatively private, though a good run or an afternoon spent walking and drinking in the outdoors can work wonders to bring a smile back to their face.