@grimesucker: There's Not Much By Way Of A Celebration, But There IS A Package Of Base-white Outer-shell
@grimesucker: there's not much by way of a celebration, but there IS a package of base-white outer-shell pieces that can be attached to fifteen's prosthetic arm ; additionally, a note : 'nothing great, but me n the kids pitched in to get you a little more layers. happy birthday.'
given he’d practically forgotten about his OWN birthday to begin with, he expects no celebration. in fact, he always figures that dox won’t remember -- not because he doesn’t CARE, rather there’s so much else to worry about that birthdays just don’t matter as much as they did on med-lev. and yet, every year he’s been surprised to discover that NOT ONLY has dox remembered, but even went so far as to put together a gift for him.
approaching the box curiously, shiro picks up the note and reads over it, unable to contain the SMILE that grows with each word. not just dox, but THE KIDS, too. the various little slumbrats he’s taken to helping dox look after helped out with the gift. --granted, it may have been all of dox’s money rather than any of them pitching in, but honestly? it means more to him that they’d care enough to want to be included. it really solidifies that feeling he’s had, of being something like a BIG BROTHER for them. that alone is a great gift.
now grinning to himself, he slips the note into his pocket ( yes, he’s going to keep it! it officially has SENTIMENTAL VALUE ) and moves on to slowly opening the box. what’s revealed inside... it takes shiro a moment to put it together. at first, it just looks like maybe some assorted pieces of plastic, but the more he looks at them while keeping the note in mind, the more he realizes what ‘layers’ dox was talking about.
he’s never THOUGHT about making his arm look nicer. it functions, that’s the part that matters. not that he’s going to turn the opportunity DOWN ( maybe it’ll make the thing a little easier to look at and feel more like his arm than a simple prosthetic ).
slowly, carefully, shiro clips the plates into place one by one. he MIGHT need a bit of help later securing them fully, but he manages well enough on his own and, when it’s done, he has to admit: he’s impressed. it gives his prosthetic a completely different look. he... kinda LIKES it.
flexing the fingers, smile remaining securely in place, he wonders how he can thank everyone. maybe cake? he should have enough counts to pick a CHEAP ONE up... definitely can’t bake one himself, he’ll BURN THE HOUSE DOWN. the kids would like something sweet, he knows it, and why can’t he make them happy on his OWN BIRTHDAY? decision made, shiro hurries for the door, grabbing his jacket on the way, and he leaves the rundown home with excitement shining in his eyes.
More Posts from Kienokoru and Others
@starwritten / fantasy sc.
‘ weren’t you told to leave these woods? ’
during his regular herb-gathering for the month, wherein he goes around the forest and collects bunches of the herbs which dox uses on a regular basis, shiro had come across an UNFAMILIAR SCENT. one which, upon being followed, has unexpectedly led him to a faerie. he’s never seen her before, but it’s easy enough to assume that THIS is the fae dox was complaining about last week.
despite the nature of the question, there’s no harshness to his tone --- merely SUSPICION. a shuffle of paws, and the werewolf shifts his stance, jostling some of the herbs tucked away in what is, effectively, the saddlebag across his back. head tilts, and his eyes watch her CURIOUSLY; it’s not often that he meets a magical being who isn’t a witch or a shaman or any of the more commonly found types. most magical creatures, for lack of a better term, don’t like to cross the boundary into dox’s forest.
‘ showing up uninvited around here isn’t the best idea, you know. ’
Date a boy who curls up on your lap, even though he is 6’ 2" because he loves cuddles
I honestly love planet scanning in Andromeda.
“Can you remember who you were before the world told you who you should be?”
— Danielle LaPorte (via amortizing)
grimesucker.
it’s with a fluid, albeit LAZY action that the shaman sits up, his floating flora coming to circle around his head like an earthen halo. as the werewolf provides DENIAL, a slow smirk begins to overtake dox’s mouth. YEAH, he doesn’t believe shiro for a SECOND—
but he doesn’t FAULT the kid ; SHIT, part of the reason he’d sent SHIRO on the errand was so he COULD swing into the bakery - he’s earned some GOOD KARMA, & if his good karma is the baker’s son, than dox will cheer him on. —reaching to take the coltsfoot from where it’d been dropped to his lap in his rise, the shaman pushes further to his feet, free hand landing on the wolf’s head & giving a slight RUFFLE to the fur ;
“ thanks, romeo. ”
& across the space he moves, bare feet padding across hardwood flooring ; sunlight illuminates the inside of the cabin, motes dust caught in the rays of light that speckle the floor through dirtied glass windows—not in FRAMES, simply SET into the wood & clay walls.
above the clay & copper appliance that serves as KITCHEN SINK does he go to hang the herbs amid a collection of various others ; after letting it SETTLE for a few days in the glow of the sunlight, he’ll store half for medicinal purposes later on, & SMOKE the rest.
—after tying the bundle to the cord from which his other herbs hang, dox turns to shiro & drops to a squatting position in order to better meet the werewolf face-to-face, teetering mildly from side to side in INSPECTION ;
“ you made it in & out okay ?”
there’s been TROUBLE in the woods lately, & while dox never lets shiro leave without a DEFENSIVE ward strung around his neck, it could be said that he’s a little OVER-PROTECTIVE of the kid.
another huff, this one something more along the lines of EXASPERATED at the dumb nickname, shiro gestures with his head to insinuate a rolling of eyes. he doesn’t, however, shove dox’s hand away from the brief affectionate gesture. moving along behind the shaman, tail swaying behind him, he watches the herbs be set to hang, gaze following when dox drops to his eye level.
‘ yeah. i didn’t even SEE anyone or anything that far out in the forest. ’
this is where he pauses for a beat, brow furrowing some at the prompt about his trip bringing back some of the things about it which had... bothered him a bit. for a few moments, shiro doesn’t say anything more, even glances AWAY, trying to decide how to word his observations. another beat, and he shifts --- where previously an abnormally large white wolf stood now sits a semi-gangly seventeen-year-old with white hair.
“ but it’s QUIET out there, dox. weirdly quiet. ” grey eyes meet dox’s gaze once more, uncertainty clear across the boy’s face. “ it feels like something’s wrong, but i don’t know what. i couldn’t even smell anything out of the ordinary. ”
dawson “ DOX ” cox penned by ghost
&&
takashi “ FIFTEEN ” shirogane penned by grey
— x.
bigaoneun:
where else can you find me? i tend to be all over the place, spending time wherever i have the most muse on a given day. should you want to follow me elsewhere, here’s a list of all of my currently active blogs:
bigaoneun: kang si-u, an original character created for ghost’s undercity (he does have other verses though!). an anxious blind boy with a green thumb & a great deal of pent up rage.
yosulbujog: baek minjoon, an original character created for a modern setting. an apathetic witch who prefers gaming over witchcraft & makes a living as a streamer.
byanyan: byan, an original character created for ghost’s undercity (they will have other verses though!). a fiery teen whose hobbies include kicking your ass & stealing your things, all while wearing a hello kitty backpack.
kienokoru: takashi “shiro” shirogane of vld canon. multiverse-centric, but canon verses do exist now.
holowitted: elliot “mirage” witt of apex legends canon. multiverse loveable dumbass.
telumviventem: “indie,” a headcanon-based indoraptor from jurassic world canon. mostly multiverse with selective activity.
I tear amnesia apart, rise up as an armed and implacable reaper of what is happening to me, of what has happened to me.
Gently my emotions. Gently my distress over what is disappearing. Gently my wild urge to live.
— Abdellatif Laâbi, from “Chronicle of the Citadel of Exile,” In Praise of Defeat
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