@grimesucker​ Sent:  It's A MESS Of A Cake , Too Many Layers That Now Threaten To TOPPLE---it's PRETTY

Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides

kienokoru‌:

tfw ghost makes you think about the potential uc verse for a canon muse that you don’t even write, and you’re tempted to pick them up just for that

welp.

🌸🌺🌸

grimesucker‌.

MOST PEOPLE wouldn’t have such a TOUGH TIME picking a weapon - a lot of people came in already with an idea of their FAVORED TYPE - something SHARP ? something BLUNT ? something HEAVY ? —but dox supposes there’d never really been much fantasizing towards PERSONAL COMBAT MECHANICS during fifteen’s time up on MED-LEV. lot less CRIME, lot more KUMBAYA. 

…& in all honesty , he’s pretty surprised he got the kid to AGREE to come weapons shopping—DON’T GET IT WRONG, he’s GLAD that there wasn’t any HEEL-DIGGING, he’d just been prepared with a whole SPEECH that now he feels STUPID for rehearsing over & over in his head.

—though he doesn’t feel this way for LONG, self-criticism making way for something like PRIDE as fifteen’s attention seems caught by a KNIFE - dox’s own favorite type of weapon , & he wonders if fifteen’s into it for the TACTICAL benefits , or because he’s seen dox’s own proficiency & thought it NEAT .

        …most likely the former , but the grimesucker still awards himself a ‘ 6 ′ .

                                                            “ nice choice. ”

praise given sincerely , dox more than a little SMUG in the face of any option taken that involves BLADES— a nod towards cipher, who recites ‘450 counts,’ these of which dox passes off with a quick transaction between cipher’s collection device & his online drive ; during which they make remark, ‘ corrupting the kids again?’ to which dox responds with a shrug , ‘ i’m only equipping them to better handle it. ’

—with purchase made cipher passes over a nylon of which fifteen may attach to his person, the knife nestled neatly inside. as dox loops an arm around the kid’s shoulder & steers him away, cipher bids farewell with ring-adorned fingers waving goodbye in disconnected intervals. half-joking , dox grins in fifteen’s direction—

                                                      “ wanna get some PRACTICE in ?”

  with the knife, neatly sheathed, handed to him, shiro grips it in his hands and continues to eye it with some degree of WARINESS. this is his now. this is something he has to keep on his person at all times. while he may have been living in the undercity for a number of MONTHS now, it’s still difficult for him to grasp just how likely it is to wind up in a violent and dangerous situation at any time of any day. 

giving a slight start when dox’s arm wraps over his shoulders, the boy blinks and PULLS his attention away from the weapon. allowing himself to be steered away, eyebrows raise skeptically at dox’s prompt.

“ that seems UNSAFE, ”  he notes, frowning slightly. yeah, he’s going to have to learn how to fight with the knife SOMEHOW, but armed practice just seems like it’d be asking for unnecessary injury. ---dox’s healing abilities aside, shiro doesn’t want to harm him, and he’d really like to avoid a knife piercing his own skin. he’s still recovering mentally from the first time he experienced that.

     “ maybe some hand-to-hand instead? ”

wow hey guys, remember me?

📃!!

Send a ‘📃’ for a short drabble involving our muses (Closed) || @kienokoru​

Shiro adapts to alien-care

In the briefest of instances, Shiro became aware of the void of sleep. He wanted to succumb to unconsciousness again (A secondary part of him marvels at the fact that he’s waking up at his own leisure, as opposed to being shaken or jolted awake by orderlies or nightmares), but in his half-asleep state, Shiro felt like something was up. Not wrong, just off—like he forgot something or slept on his leg weird.

As he faded further from dreams, and drifted closer to consciousness, Shiro understood what was the off feeling was about—his arm was wet.

One groggy eye at a time, he peels them open to the dingy motel room turned home-base. His sensations realign themselves with reality, and Shiro realizes that his prosthetic arm is the drenched one. The reason why is simple: Vanx.

Even as Shiro returned to the land of the living, she continued to gnaw on his arm—smearing her slobber all over the place.

It’s pretty gross. In a cute kind of way? No, no—Shiro prefers his limbs not-slobbered-on, even if his prosthetic arm could be power-washed. He half-mumbles in a groggy voice, “Come on, Vanx,” and jiggles his arm to a great clinking of teeth.

Vanx looks up—with her jaws still clamped down on his arm—and stares with big guilty eyes that scream, “I didn’t think you’d catch me red-handed.“

Vanx finally drops his arm and scooches some away. Grunting, Shiro stretches out his back. As sketchy as the mattress looks (and smells), it would’ve been better for him than leaning on headboard. Then again, a little soreness was the least of his worries.

Having popped as many cricks down his spine as he could, Shiro takes stock of his prosthetic arm; at least, he does after smearing it across the sheets, just to get the first layer of slobber off it. As he assesses for damage, Vanx pipes up with a more nervous-sounding yelp, “I swear I did not break any parts!”

Shiro realizes he’s been wearing a more so disgusted look. He is pretty grossed out, but he doesn’t want Vanx to think she’s in trouble. He’s not angry, or even really frustrated, so much as he’s just struggling. He’s never handled kids that teethed, much less kids that teethed like Vanx.

He’s seen her try to eat through walls.

Putting on a warm smile, his voice turns gentle as he tries to reassure Vanx. “I’m sure you didn’t, but we still need to be careful. I need this to get around and fight, too.” He’s been flexing his fingers and everything seems to be in order—no damage, and from the look of things, very few scuff marks. “You don’t want to leave me without an arm, right?”

“Oh.” Vanx blinks and her voice drops to low tone, something that suggests she better understands the gravity of the issue. “I am sorry.”

Shiro let out a small sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Yes, I am sure you would be very sad if you could not do any more arm wrestling.”

Shiro blinks at that, feeling a twinge of offense spring up in his gut. “That’s not– I don’t–” He sputters for a moment as he collects his thoughts. “I was arm wrestling long before I got this arm, ”

Vanx makes a face of scrutiny as she looks between either of Shiro’s arms. “But.. your flesh arm is so weak and edible.”

“Well, yes, but arm wrestling isn’t just about strength, you also have to have the proper technique, and–” Shiro stops himself before he goes too deep into that rabbit hole. He ignores the more disturbing half of Vanx’s comment, and tries to not to regret showing her how to arm wrestle.

It helped past the time, and it was fun game they enjoyed.

“Look, it’s not just about me being able to arm wrestle or not. This arm is.. apart of me.” He said the last part hesitantly, like he didn’t really want to admit it. For a moment, his eyebrows furrow together, but his expression evens-out again. “If you need to gnaw on something, then we can get you something like, uh.. chew toy?”

He cringed inwardly at that word choice. It felt a little dehumanizing, offering a little kid dog toys. Vanx, on the other hand, perked up at that. She sounded excited as can be as she practically squealed, “Really?”

Shiro reminds himself, once again, that alien kids usually like alien toys, and those aren’t always like human toys.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll get you the next one we come across.” Shiro laughed at the way Vanx fist-pumped to herself.  He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and as he stood up, he rolls both his shoulder to even more cricks and pops. “But, how about we have another rematch before we start off the day?”

Vanx beamed at the idea and scurried off the bed herself. With just a grunt, she   was already hefting the nightstand from the other side of the bed to the middle of the room (While she lacked any kind of technique, the kid had more than enough brute strength). She always thought she’d beat Shiro at arm wrestling, and Shiro would be lying if he said a small part of himself wouldn’t feel vindicated by beating her yet again.

But it’d all be in the name of fun and games, and it’d make for a good distraction from the grimy city outside.

me: *points to space* !!!!!!

friend: ????

me: *points to space more violently* !!!!!!!!!

ever want to just slash at your arm or some part of yourself bc killing yourself isn’t an option but you fucking need to do something?

my arms already have reasonably fresh scars from the last month or two and i just!!!! idk!!!! i can’t sleep today away too, so!!!!