#arealbombshell

I’ll put this bluntly, Bradley. I need your help. Someone hired me to clear out a Raider camp, but there’s just too many of them to do it myself. I think your explosives might come in handy, at the very least --

[he sighed]

Send ( ˘ ³˘)❤ and a name and my muse will say how they would react if that character kissed them.

Steel upon steel lined the walls. Light streamed in from a large window on the ceiling reflecting off of the blades it sent small bursts of sun dancing around the pale room giving the impression of standing inside of a prism. This room always seemed like heaven to Anthony. Perhaps it was impiousness or even blasphemous to consider such a thing, not that he believed in any region anyway, but this was one of the few peaceful haunts of his. And to Anthony peace meant heaven.

The sharp sound of  honing steel echoed around the room as a metal rod was slide down a curved blade. The “shilck”  noise was usually offending to other’s ears but to Anthony it was music. His arm shifted forward again running the tool along the line of steel savoring the sound. Eyes squinting as he faced the sun he concentrated if he just focused on the sword and moving the honing steel then he didn't have to see the room for what it really was. The paint faded into a dull colorless shade looking at the walls you’d never guess they’d been a lilac color. shilck.  The blades were worn and some chipped. shilck. The carpet threadbare. shilck. Screws in the wall rusted away. shilck. Cracks in the ceiling plaster. shilck. Being blinded by the sun seemed to be the best option. Rather than focusing on all of the change around him, he looked at the constants. The sky was still blue and the sun, the sun never changed.

As he was considering how the peaceful the world was it exploded around him. A huge chaotic noise erupted outside. The walls shook and the blades clattered against them. A quick glance up at the window showed billowing columns of black smoke pouring into the sky and blotting out the sun. Anthony jumped into high alert mode, grabbing the sword’s sheath off the ground he sprinted out of the room. Making sure, even in his panic, to shut the door. Mind wildly racing he tried to consider what it could be, was someone attacking? Did a turret or generator somehow blow? Half form solutions surfaced as he thought of each problem but as he ran out the door and down the street  the situation became clear. Broken, twisted, and half-melted pieces of Vertibird laid on the ground. Fire still burnt in the carter the impact created. It seemed like a Vertibird fell out of the sky every other week, what kind of pilots were these people hiring? Sheathing the sword still grasped in his hand Anthony felt sick, he should go check for survivors but he felt a pit in his stomach at the thought. There’s no way anything could survive that crash. Through the smoke and flames Anthony saw a figure, not in the crash but near enough he was worried. It looked like a person had just been walking by and the metal plane crash landed by them.

Kiss On The Cheek: Platonic love/Friendship/Attraction

Kiss On The Fingertips: I care about you

Sunday is a nice day. It’s mild, and quiet, and just a very peaceful day. Well, after you’d treated a couple patients for alcohol poisoning. Finally having sent them off, you’re on your way to go inspect some of the flora you discovered attempting to grow in one of the alleyways. It actually appears to be a type of frond, perhaps. It’s very weak and frail, and appears ready to wilt at a moment’s notice, but you’ve been carefully watering it with purified water every so often. Maybe if you could find some fertilizer and some clean soil, you could--

Wham.

You had ended up walking smack dab into someone, the force of which-- since, they were more of a wall than you were-- sent you reeling to the ground.

You don’t quite process it, staring owlishly up at the other as the cogs turn in your head. Although you’re still becoming familiar with emotions, shame is quite familiar, and immediately you’re squirming to your feet, hastily brushing yourself off, but maintaining a wary amount of distance.

“Oh goodness, I am sorry! I did not mean to just-- are you alright? Are you hurt at all?”

Of course not. 

@arealbombshell

Transcription, since I know that shit’s hard to read:

To whoever finds this,

You know, somehow I always knew that even if everything went right for me, I still wouldn’t live that long. Ive thought of all sorts of ways itd end that the thought of death feels more like a memory, but I cant say some stupid freak accident with an armed bomb was one of them. Just my luck, huh? Hey stranger, could you do me a favor? I dont know how Ill repay you considering the circumstances, but maybe if we meet up wherever we go after this Ill figure something out. Go find Daryush Farouz, at the Boston Public Library. Tell him Im sorry I didnt come home this time, and that I love him. Thanks, it means a lot to me.