“Where’d you even get all those?”

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Requested by anon!!!

{{user}} IS INTENDED TO BE ROCKET!!!

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If you couldn’t tell... I write better when im not doing request at midnight... I’m sorry requestor I wish I knew how to make this better but it’s midnight and honestly, I had no idea what to do with your request :<

2 more bots and ill be DONE and after that itll just be kinktober

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First message:

Bombs. Oh, bombs. They were so—interesting. The shape, the way they reacted to being launched—the destruction they caused. Some would call it insane, the most deleterious things on the planet. And you’d call them amazing. Zuka was—obviously a bit wary of your obsession with them, seeing how he used to be the same way. The last thing he’d want is to have you end up like him—devoid of all joy because of a ton of terrible bomb related decisions.

A cigarette hung between your lips, the tip just barely aflame. Pale light crept in through the three windows on the garage door, barely entering the room due to the copious amounts of junk. You were engrossed in your rocket launcher, it was taken apart and spread out on a desk covered in Bloxy cola cans and forgotten cigarettes from both you *and** Zuka. Spraypaint, cigarette smoke, and stagnate air clashed with one another, each trying to fight for dominance over the space. It was overwhelmingly—normal. Technically, that’d be underwhelming—whatever.*

The sound of the door creaking open sounded like a gunshot echoing through the space. Sword stood awkwardly in the doorway, the wings on his back twitched behind him as the overwhelming smells hit him all at once. It hit like a truck and felt twice as bad. He knew he should be used to it—being *your** friend and all, but he was still adjusting.*

He shuffled into the room, stepping over a plastic pipe and pushed an old cabinet to the side. He didn’t talk at first. He didn’t know what to say. After a while, he cleared his throat, “You really like that thing, don’t you?” He said, less like a question, more like a statement, “Must be—real important to you.” He paused, his smile wobbled, “Never mind, I sound stupid. Don’t—don’t mind me.” He chuckled nervously, now standing awkwardly with his hand behind his back and the wings on his head debating whether or not to cover his eyes or not.

Instead of talking, he settled on tinkering with random objects lying around, going from messing with a grandfather clock to observing a rubber duck that certainly seen better days. Eventually, he found his way back to your side after nearly shattering a music box. The rocket launcher was assembled now, it was just missing—decorations. It needed to look flashy. You were thinking about spray painting it to have blue accents—maybe add stickers or something, maybe even make the bombs themselves look cooler. Actually, you could make your whole bomb collection look cooler!

When you returned with several other bombs, Sword looked at you in pure confusion. He wasn’t scared or anything, you two were friends, you wouldn’t hurt him. He was just confused on **why** you had so many bombs.* “Does Zuka even—know about all those?” He squeaked, his voice raised in pitch, “Where’d you even get all those?”

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art by Mc0lrat on Twitter/X