#shortwaves

[cheatdeathsarchive]

@shortwaves​          /          sc.

Usually Courier Six preferred the sound of Mr. New Vegas’ voice when she listened to the radio, but there were times when curiosity got the better of her, and tonight was one of those times. A general sense of listlessness had taken over her; the night was usually hard, and when a distraction so plainly laid itself out for her, she was hard pressed not to take it.

She and ED-E had followed the frequency with the rising Sun as company. The music was... haunting just as much as it was strange, and when it was only static, it made the courier wonder if it was perhaps an old world station that hadn’t been very lucky to withstand the test of time. The Mojave desert was warming up, and though Six still felt a chill as she happened upon the radio tower and the silhouette nearby it.

“Howdy -- we heard your radio station. Reckon I might be able to fix it a bit. T’was playin’ an awful lot of static. Would you want I should check it out?”

[dyedmaxiian]

@shortwaves​ said:

“Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars.”

“Call me A CYNIC but I sincerely doubt that’s about the ACTUAL moon & stars.”

He figures it’s stating the obvious given the fact that the parallels between loss & poetic metaphors was one that couldn’t possibly broken no matter how time one spent trying. Unfortunately it was usually coupled the the heartache that came with it. There were no true poets without loss, so he figures she’s got SOMETHING to pine for in the way of missing loved ones. He’s not going to pry, SO he remains silent for a moment, leaning back in his chair, the cigarette between his fingers leaving a trail of smoke rising from it before dissipating once it got higher. 

He doesn’t talk much on the subject of loss. It’s far too much to add to the already dreary nature of living in the Commonwealth. The reality of living in a wasteland was depressing enough. Be he remains silent after he initial sentiment, expecting something of a biting remark. people often seemed to take that tone with him. He had just learned to accept it considering the fact that if he got upset it would just cause him more distress than he realistically needed.

“Just because a star can’t be seen past the Moon, doesn’t mean it isn’t still there...for what it’s worth.”

Speaking in metaphors was oddly simple. At least compared to being direct on the subject of what he assumes she’s alluding to. He’s never been the best at reading people on a personable level. He’s good at pre-war politics, but that wasn’t the same as reading a person at a genuine level.

[chaoticourier]

     ↳   @shortwaves​  sent:   i was only gone for twenty minutes.

█     𝐓𝐎  𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄  𝐖𝐇𝐎  𝐇𝐀𝐒  𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐍  𝐎𝐑  𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋  𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖  𝐒𝐈𝐗,      for long enough,   it’ll inevitably become obvious that he’s no good at soothing himself.   coping was not his strong suit.  surviving,  yes.  suffering,  yes.   caring for himself?  no.   six doesn’t remember this,  exactly,  but nobody ever taught or showed him how to —  not efficiently,  anyway.

          the overwhelming thought would come up more,  if he let himself get close enough to anyone.  he’s angry,  but it’s mostly because of knowing the thought is beyond illogical;  beyond anything he’s used to bearing the weight of.  an entirely different kind of suffering.  six only liked mind games when he was playing them on others,  not on himself.

          the illogical,  emotion-driven thought:   she’s not coming back.   the reality:  she came back.  she’s standing right there.  six is angry with himself only,  six feels like his brain is even more broken than it already was.  six is terrified.

          a brief,  biting laugh.  “   uh-huh.  twenty-minutes too goddamn long.   ”   he snarls,  teeth  &  all.  previously staring like he was looking at a ghost,  it seems he can’t even look in her general direction, now.  he doesn’t want to say anything else about it,  so he doesn’t.  swallows whatever he wants to say,  swallows the pain,  because if he'd been able,  he wouldn’t have acknowledged it in the first place.

[burntdevotion-a]

@shortwaves​ liked for a starter

It’s easy to hole the radio in one of his hands, the same elbow propped on the table to hold his weight as the other still scrawls. Notes, things they already knew but needed to be gathered up once again for his own sanity. Easy work in comparison to his other things. 

“ You’ve been busy; a distraction to the flock. What did you think would happen? “ 

His voice is even, low, like it wasn’t a bother because it really wasn’t. Meant to incite fear and submission, to cease the small rebellion over the airwaves. Worth a shot before they narrowed down the location and he sent men her way. 

[felcn]

@shortwaves​ said: [ fix ]

[ fix ] for your muse to treat mine’s injury

nonverbal memes.     /     accepting

     “ It ain’t as bad as it looks. “ Leo assured, holding a filthy rag against his bruised eye. Moving the fabric aside, you could see the rather nasty (& bloody) mark from the bar fight earlier. His nose was also damaged from it but thankfully, he had managed to already stop the bleeding from his nostrils. 

     There were also some injuries all over his body, mostly bruises & small wounds but nothing that would concern him that much. He’s been through worse, for sure. Despite him feeling ‘alright’ after all of it, he still looked like he’s been run over by a bloody truck. Perhaps that was the reason the other was so willing to offer him pain medicine & patch him up. He didn’t understand why, considering they were barely an acquaintances. 

     Leo looked down at his shirt, noticing small patches of blood on it - he was not sure if it was his or the other man’s. Nevertheless, it was gonna be a pain in the ass trying to scrub that off. “ Well, that’s a good shirt ruined. Y’know how difficult it is to clean that shit off. Fuckin’ pointless if y’ask me. “ his tone was relaxed, as if he was trying to lighten up the mood slightly. Fuck, wasn’t this awkward as hell. 

[mojavedevil]

@shortwaves​ “ i’m surprised we didn’t die trying to get this 

   He leaned back in victory. The coveted amount of caps they cheated their way into earning at the Gomorrah. Roadkill wasn’t worried about the consequences, he was in too deep with the Omertas for them to take action. He was a trusted ally. both of them working for Caesar. 

                       “ I wouldn’t worry ‘bout it. I got connections with the Omertas. ”    He spoke confidently, taking a new bound with every word. He raised his shot glass in agreement, bottoming down the tequila without hesitation. The burn of alcohol might have reminded him of his own mortality yet it was welcomed. Alcohol had alwasy come as a relief to the man, it’s burning edge taking away from his thoughts. It was inevitable that he would turn sour depending on his intoxication but for now he enjoyed the moment.

                                                     “ I’m buyin’, I got the caps ”

[mojavedevil]

@shortwaves​ “ the risk i took was calculated. but clearly i am bad at maths. ””

                                                                “ I ain’t no better. ”    He chuckled. NEver even learning how to read he knew less of mathematics. Schooling was never fit for such a rebellious kid, he would rather find himself preoccupied by shooting his first rifle than learning. Roadkill sighed, a loss at battle was devastating though for once he could excuse it. The company of of Nines made his loss more tolerable if yet still uncomfortable. A lost client was on thing at least, disappointing Caesar was a whole other story.

   He sat back in his chair, sipping at his tequila. The drink relaxed him for now, it was only inevitable that he’d grow irate in intoxication. But for now he was content, at peace with his loss. “Heres some drinks on me. To the house.” He declared, clinking his glass with Nines’. He was more than happy to pay if it meant getting a female companion intoxicated.  

[serenitysought]

                                  @shortwaves​​ said :  “ this scar..what happened? ”

                                                     misc feels starters

one arm bears the marking of the logo . it reminds him of what he’s here for . the other arm bears markings that come from a broken childhood . it could have been so easy to have john or anyone cover them up , but he chose to leave them . lashings of a demented man that called himself a man of GOD . though , now that paul is older he knows that isn’t true . he lets his fingers run over the lines made with a wooden switch , inhaling sharply as he does so as if they still hurt after all these years . 

                         ❝  ramblings of a madman . . .  ❞

 its all he says at first as blue eyes stare down at his arm . hiding it does him no good and if asked he will tell the truth . the people in his region relate to him because he doesn’t act holier than they and he makes it known that he has struggled just as they have . paul has dealt with abuse , addiction , and homelessness , depression and many more things and keeping that from his flock would do none of them any good. 

the apostle is an open book in hopes that he can help guide and help others make the decisions that he never could .  ❝  our father was not a kind man and to say that he was god fearing is an understatement . he was an extremist that thought he was doing god’s bidding , i suppose . ❞ in a way it sounds familiar and no doubt she will most likely mention that , but to him its still different in the way that at least his brothers actually do love him .