#kind of break his tunnel vision and get his mind to reset | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blooming-violets · 1 year

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@liz-allyn

I don’t want to reblog that post and make it any longer than it needs to be. Instead I’m making you you’re own post because I’ve been thinking about this a lot the past few days and letting it rumble around in my brain and I need you to know about it.

The very first thing that comes to mind when I think of anything you wrote, like if someone screamed your name at me, this would be the first thing that showed up without hesitation: The tunnel collapse scene in Heat of the Moment. I’ve never read such pure action, horror, gore, and desperation done so beautifully before. My favorite part of reading a really good book is when the rest of my environment starts to fade away and I’m no longer in my room but in the scene with the characters. That’s what happened when I read that part of HOTM. I tunnel visioned (pun intended) into that moment with them. I swear I could almost hear, smell, and see everything they were. It was so visceral. So real. So terrifying. So gruesome. So fucking beautiful. Holy shit. Not be weird but I think that’s how you died in a previous life. There’s no other possible explanation on how you captured the horrors of that without having literally lived died through it. Okay, maybe you’re just a brilliant writer or whatever but still. I WAS THERE WITH THEM, LIZ. I was smelling the burned hair and car fumes, listening to the screams, and feeling the icy water rising. I don’t think I’ve ever even read an actual novel where I felt more anxious than I did reading this Spider-Man fanfiction. I think you’re a god. The fact that Peter dies this time instead of only her. That fact that she now gets to feel the pain that he’s been feeling this whole time before things get reset. The simplicity and horror of this line alone “You realize you can’t hear the baby anymore.” was enough to break me. I went back to reread that scene for this post and even just skimming through it was enough to make my stomach ache with anxiety.

The second: Peter desperately swinging through the city to save his girlfriend in 1 Missed Call. When all his senses start to heighten to a ridiculously high level in his panic, when he can’t think of anything but getting to her as fast as he can, and then when he finally finds her kasdjf;aklsdjf. This whole section “They looked pathetic, younger now as they shrank in terror. They were sniveling boys spat out of some college fraternity. They trembled before him, horrified that they were about to meet a different Spider-Man, one they’d heard rumors about.” Gives me fucking chills. “A different Spider-Man, one they’d heard rumors about” makes me want to howl at the moon, rip off my clothes, and run around screaming.

Third: These Violet Delights when Peter’s Spidey flexes stop Kilgrave. That’s hot. That whole fic was right up my alley and true perfection and I’m sad you didn’t think it got the response you were hoping for. For the peeps who love darkness, this was everything I could have ever asked for. I know the response to this fic lead you to write Sugar and Vice which is nice because that story is wonderful...but Violet Delights is my kind of mob love story. And this part, “With a tear-soaked growl that turned into an agonized scream, Peter gripped Kilgrave’s jaw with enough pressure to crack the bone. The ridges of his fingertips buried themselves into his flesh. With a final howl, Peter snatched his hand back. And with it, he ripped the jawbone from Kilgrave’s skull.” was the sexiest thing Peter Parker has ever done and what I hope John in S&V has a similar end.

#fic recs

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mashiraostail · 4 years

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Hi can I please get Aizawa, Hizashi, Gang Orca and Vlad King when their poor civilian s/o gets injured in a villain attack? Like not super serious but definitely to the point they're in a lot of pain

yeesss! under the cut enjoy ! >:3 i just picked random jobs to give the reader where it fit btw

Shouta Aizawa: “I swear to god you just attract trouble.” Aizawa drops you unceremoniously onto the couch, “don’t you?” “Clearly, I found you didn't I?” You look up at him and he huffs. “You need ice.” He stuffs a few pillows under your incredibly swollen and bruised ankle, “what the hell were you doing around here anyway, I thought you were supposed to be at work?” “I got off early, I was gonna break into your place and surprise you.” “You can’t break in someplace you have a key for.” He crosses his arms, “well, either way, you’re lucky I was around. If you’d hung out there too much longer who knows what else would have fallen on you, or worse. You need to be more careful.” “You need to be more careful.” You mimic him in a childish tone and he scoffs. “I may have saved your life and this is how you repay me? What would you have done if I didn’t show up? Make a home in that subway station with your leg stuck under a pile of rocks and a trashed phone? If that villain didn’t get to you the boredom would have.” “I had it handled, thank you.” You gasp, offended. “What were you gonna do, finance the villain’s car?” He starts to laugh. “I would have figured it out!” You insist. “You’re an accountant.” He snorts and you frown. “I’m-” You snap your mouth shut and scowl at him, he laughs some more. “Is that you trying to look angry with me? Gee, I’m petrified.” He wraps up a bag of ice cubes with a thin cloth and rests in on your ankle. You reach forward to hit him and he jumps back, “Woah, woah, hey, hey no.” He catches your hand, “you know you’re lucky you have me-okay hey-” Your leering forward with your other hand but he catches that too, “you’re just going to hurt yourself, not me so no hitting- hey! I said no hitting. I’ll stop, alright?” He kisses your knuckles and then sets your hands in your lap, “but you need to rest, it’s only a few bumps and bruises plus a bum ankle but I’m sure you’re exhausted and in pain.” You sink into the cushions of his couch, “stop being mean to me, this is kind of your fault you know?” “Being mean to you? I saved you!” He sighs, “Look. I’m sorry I laughed at you. You’re a very good accountant, I love you and I love that you’re an accountant. I’m sure you would have found your way back here somehow. I shouldn’t underestimate you.” He kisses between your furrowed brows, “so stop looking at me like that and tell me what hurts so I can help.” “Just my legs.” You promise, “I hit my head but it wasn’t so bad, I don’t think it’s serious.” You reach out for his hands and he lets you take them. “You’re all scraped up.” He sighs, “do you have any idea how worried I was when I saw you stuck in there? It’s like I got tunnel vision.” “I’m sorry.” You murmur playing with his fingers, running the pad of your thumb over his calloused palm, “if it’s any consolation that’s how I feel about you all the time..” He snaps his mouth shut. Well, he’d never considered it like that. “I know..” He sighs and closes his eyes, “and I love you..so...don’t be sorry, just...try not to let it happen again? For my sake and yours. It’s my job to get into trouble so just leave it to the professionals?” You nod at that and drop your head forward onto his shoulder. “Okay good. Now let’s get you cleaned up. Come on, you can barely keep your eyes open, go to sleep if you can, I’ll stay here with you while you do.”

Hizashi Yamada: “I told you Zash, it’s really all right.” You let him open the door for you anyway, “the doctors just wanted to be sure I didn’t have any broken bones or anything like that.” “I should have at least been able to come to get you at the hospital!” He warbles and you smile a little at him. “You were just doing your job. I understand. Like I said before it wasn’t serious at all, I just dislocated my shoulder, and I’ve got a minor concussion.” You press your fingers to his lips, “so let’s keep it down okay?” He nods at you, looking just a little awestruck. you smile at him a little wider and take his face in your hand, “you’re sweet, Zashi, thank you for being worried about me.” “Of course I’m worried.” He shakes his head, “I’m sorry you got hurt in the first place...I can get you some ice for your shoulder and some pain meds, you should try to rest as much as you can.” He holds your waist, “want me to carry you?” You snort out a laugh at that, “no I think I can manage it babe.” “Maybe I should come to help you change shirts, they may have reset your shoulder at the hospital but you should still be careful.” You’re going to say no, that you can handle that too, but he just looks so worried. “Yeah..I’d really appreciate that Zash. Do you mind?” He’s about to yell, you can see it in his face, the way he opens his mouth, but it locks shut and he starts shaking his head vigorously instead. “Let me get an icepack and some painkillers and I’ll meet you in there?” You’re pretty proud of his self-restraint. He follows close behind you into your bedroom and starts helping you change into a big, old tee shirt of his, per your request. “You know..” He starts after pulling the tee-shirt over your head, “what were you doing all the way over here anyway, isn’t your office 3 stops away from here?” “Hm?” You look up at him and ponder for a moment before remembering, “oh, I was going to meet an old coworker from my last gig for lunch, looks like we both got a little wrapped up.” You laugh a little, “he should be alright too. He called me while I was at the hospital, looks like he made it out with just a few scrapes.” “Wish you were that lucky..” He murmurs smoothing his palm over your head. “Honestly I needed an excuse to ask for a few days off anyhow.” You sit on the edge of your bed and he hums as you continue, “but now that I think about it maybe this is a sign I should just hang out where I am a little longer.” You wave with a laugh. “Were you meeting about a new job?” He perks up at the new bit of information and you shrug. “They have an opening, a charge nurse. He was gonna show me around the floor today after lunch.” You murmur noncomittally, “though now it seems a bit cursed doesn’t it?” You watch him unmake your bed, fluffing up various pillows and pulling the sheets back. “No way babe, you deserve a better job if you want one. I always say how I think you should be in charge anyhow.” He pats the open space and you laugh but shuffle over to him. “Yeah..and plus I’d be closer to you.” You look up at him for a reaction as he starts to wrap up the icepack in a cloth. He sputters. “Well..that’d be nice.” “Though if you ever get bored of being a hero, you’ve got the makings of a pretty good nurse, then we’d be plenty close, wouldn’t we?”

Gang Orca/Kugo Sakamata: “Are you mad at me?” You ask, partially slung over the taller man’s shoulder. “I am not mad at you.” He responds flatly. “You sound a little mad at me.” You murmur, drumming your fingers on the back of his neck, “Come on Kugo, don’t be mad at me.” “I said I’m not.” He reaches into his pocket for his keys. “Then stop acting mad at me.” You retort as he unlocks his front door. “I’m sorry.” Is all he offers to that. You can’t help but grin a little. “My ribs hurt-” You whine and he sighs. “Yes, well mine would hurt too, if some hopped up villain body-slammed me into a bus. Maybe you should have considered that before jumping in front of a dog-” “Well, what was I meant to do?!” You warble, knocking your fists off his back, “don’t be such a brute Kugo.” “I’m not being a brute.” He sits you down on his sort of comically large couch, “I just wish you would have a little more self-preservation.” He kneels in front of you, “is that unfair of me?” “...no..” You shake your head compliantly. “Well then there.” He places his hands high up on your thighs, “I can’t help being worried about you when you get hurt, you’re not meant to. I know you like to think you aren’t, but you are just a civilian. And yes, maybe you’re my civilian, but you’re still a civilian. It’s my job to protect you.” He sighs as you take his hands, he continues, “I was cold, I’m sorry.” He apologizes, “you’re right. I shouldn’t have acted upset with you. I was just so worried about you. Do you have any idea how much worse that could have gone? What would have happened if I, or at the very least someone else, wasn’t there to help you?” “Well I..” You don’t know exactly what to say, “I just..moved without thinking. I don’t know..” “You need to think. For my sake at least.” He takes your face in his hands, “it makes me happy that you wanted to do the right thing, I just wish you’d be less self-destructive when you did it.” He stands up, “let me get you some medicine, you’re probably in a lot of pain. Maybe a warm bath would help the tenderness.” He keeps your face in his hands, pulling you up a bit by your jaw, “does that sound alright my love?” That makes your stomach flutter, a pleasant bubbling floats up into your albeit bruised ribcage as you nod dumbly at your boyfriend. “I thought it would.” He huffs out a quiet laugh, “how badly does it hurt? You’re lucky you didn’t break anything. If that villain had been any larger I’m sure she would have crushed you.” You hold onto his forearms, “I’m a pretty lucky person..” He hums affectionately. “Yeah it, sure looks like you are. I’ll start a bath for you okay? Wait here, try to get comfortable.” You have mixed results, but he’s back soon enough, helping you up. Once you make it to his bathroom he’s helping you out of your clothes, careful not to let you move or contort too much. “Kugo?” You ask quietly as you sink down in the bathwater. “Mhm?” He’s already wetting your hair with the warm water, slicking it back with large, soft palms. “You don’t think I’m weak, do you? Wouldn’t you rather date a hero or something? Someone who can hold their own? That you don’t have to worry about so much?” His hand pulls away a bit, he seems surprised. “Of course I don’t. Being a hero is my job, I don’t think lowly of people who need my help because I’ll need their help one day too. Do you have a poor opinion of everyone who comes to you and needs help fixing the awful haircut they gave themself?” He drags a soapy hand over your shoulder and you shake your head at that, “no, I guess I never saw it that way..” “I worry about you because I love you, not because I think you’re weak. I’d worry about you if you were the no. 1 hero just as much as I worry now. Don’t put thoughts like that in your head they’re not worth the space they take up. Let’s get you cleaned up and a little more comfortable, okay?”

Vald King/ Sekijiro Kan: “Oh? Hey! Look who’s awake.” Sekijiro is sitting beside your bed when you open your eyes. Well you think it’s your bed. “Where....am I?” You turn to look at him and he sits up a little, “you’re at my place.” So his bed. Same difference. “What..what happened?” You rub your head, or you try to but picking your arm up makes you hiss. “You don’t remember?” He leans toward you, worry etched into his face, “then maybe I should take you back to the hospital-” It started to come back to you at that, You were on a bus, some sort of villain attacked, there was a pretty big car accident from what you remembered he was trying to drive the bus off a bridge into a free way below, you’d tried negotiating with the guy but he just gave you an uppercut. Though in the time you wasted pestering him he’d lost his window of opportunity, instead he just crashed into a wall. You must have gotten to a hospital somehow...But how’d you get back here? “Oh..the attack..” You wrestle yourself up and he flails up to stop you, “hey maybe not right this second! The doctors say you hit your head pretty hard, and you broke your collarbone.” He presses you back down into bed, “plus a whole bunch of other bumps and bruises. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re cursed or something. But when you woke up in the hospital they said I could bring you back here as long as I kept an eye on you.” He pats your thigh under the blanket. “my head hurts..” You groan and he hums sympathetically, “yeah I figured you’d say that. Here.” He holds up a bottle of pain meds, “you want 2 or 3?” “5.” “I’m not a doctor but I think that’s too many.” He hands you three and a glass of water, “need help?” You shake your head and he nods, sitting back in his chair. “You could have sat in here with me.” You say after downing the pills. “I didn’t wanna spook you when you woke up.” He shrugs, “let me get you some ice. It’ll help with the swelling, I’ll be right back.” True to his word he only takes a few minutes before he’s back at your side, “you want me to get in bed with you?” He laughs at the way you’d pulled the duvet back, clearly making a spot for him. “I guess I owe you that much.” He climbs into bed with you and holds the icepack to your shoulder. “We talked with some of the witnesses from the bus jacking, the ones who made it out with just a few scrapes...we owe you big time.” His other hand rubs your thigh, “if you hadn’t started talking to that guy he would have driven that bus clean into the freeway, you saved a lot of people by being your usual thoughtless self.” “Well he did punch me in the face.” You murmur, free hand rubbing your jaw and the bruise that blossomed under your palm, “I think you’re rubbing off on me Seki..” He laughs a little and wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side, “I don’t know how happy I am about that yet. But I owe you a huge thanks at the very least. You did a really impressive thing today, even if it got you hurt.” “I’m just a secretary.” You wave, “being talkative is my job.” He grins at that, “well I guess you’re right about that..” He presses a long kiss to your temple. “I was really worried you know..when I figured out what bus that was, that you were on it..when I was talking to the witnesses it barely took me 2 conversations to figure out you were the idiot who tried talking a villain down.” He sighs, “I guess I can’t be too mad at you though..” “No you can’t.” You preen and he huffs, “you’re grounded though.” “Grounded!?” You gasp, “Sekijiro you can’t do that we’re both adults!” “Don’t wanna hear it. You’ve got my number, call me when crazy stuff like that happens. I’ll be there. I’d rather it be me who gets punched in the face. ‘S sorta my job. So you’re grounded. Like it or not I’m not letting you out of my sight. You aren’t allowed to lift a finger until you’re all healed up, maybe even after that I haven’t decided. Anyways, I already called your boss. So don’t bother trying to go to work tomorrow she’ll just send you home.” “Sekijirio!” You gasp and he catches your hand before you can shove his chest. “And you’re gonna like it. Come on, come here.” He accepts you into his chest, wrapping both arms around you, “lucky you the break isn’t so bad, you’ll just be in a sling for a bit...” He lets out a long sigh as you slump into his chest, “I was so worried.” “I’m sorry..” You turn into him and he leans into your hair, “you did the right thing. I love you and I’m proud of you...You made the hero play. So..don’t be sorry just...be more careful from now on, okay?” “...Yessir...” You wrap your free arm around him. “Thank you.” “I was thinking of leaving my office if I don’t get a promotion soon..and after my run in with that villain today I think I’ve got the makings of a pretty good sidekick huh?” You tease and Sekijiro shudders. “Please I don’t know what I’d do if I was this worried about you all the time. I’m really happy being in love with a secretary I think we should keep doing that.”

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #hizashi yamada x reader #gang orca x reader #vlad king x reader #present mic x reader #kugo sakamata x reader #kan sekijiro x reader #vlad king #bnah requests #bnha x reader

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greenhanded-redthumbed · 4 years

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Mr Appleigus

The men of the Appleigus family had a strict motto. Mr Appleigus the senior, deceased at age seventy-eight and not to be confused with his son, the current Mr Appleigus, had made a point to pass on this saying when his junior was about nine years of age and sobbing over a scraped knee, albeit a rather bad one.

The boy had fallen from the branches of the Jacaranda tree in their front yard - not hard enough to break anything - but with enough speed and awkwardness that one of his old, gnarled ladder rungs had dug its bark deep into his skin. Perhaps it wasn’t fond of being stepped on.

Mr Appleigus, having carried his son inside, applied rubbing alcohol and a particularly large band-aid created with the intention to either be used on a child or comically plastered on an adult en route to a hospital.

“It’ll be alright,” the senior Appleigus had assured as he smoothed down the band-aid, “It might have cut deep, but it’ll heal. You gotta be strong, deal with a little pain & you’ll be as good as new. A little patience and a few bandaids and you’ll be able to get up from anything that doesn’t kill you.”

Mr Appleigus, the junior, had remembered and applied this advice throughout his life, from the time he turned twenty right up until his current age of fifty-nine (when he was a teenager, he could see no use for such a blindly optimistic and simple metaphor so he’d chosen to ignore it until he once again saw the pertinence of simple, blind optimism shortly following the conclusion of his school years).

He was, fifty years later, now facing a different kind of band aid.

“There’s been a significant break to the hip on the right hand side,” the doctor said to him. He’d seen her puzzling over the clipboard that held his x-ray results as she hovered just outside the door to his room. So the scans would be pretty fresh in her mind. He still found it slightly disconcerting that she felt no need to glance down at the papers.

After a brief pause, presumably to let the news sink in, she continued on, “It will require surgery. For people your age, we usually recommend a replacement. Especially with your history of problems.”

Mr Appleigus nodded. It seemed fair enough - he didn’t consider himself old, as neither he nor his brother had any sons, and only his niece was continuing the Appleigus name, he still considered himself the junior Appleigus - but a hip that didn’t ache when he walked up the stairs to his apartment would be nice.

He signed the surgical forms - if he died the doctor wasn’t responsible, he’d pay the money, in case of complication contact the other Mr Appleigus as next of kin - the usual. They kept him in the hospital for a week for the operation. The other Appleigi (a lasting family in-joke only the teller seemed to find funny) came to visit, his niece Sophie even brought him flowers. They were pretty blue ones - in a little pot so they could keep growing rather than withering in a vase.

“You can take it with you,” Sophie said practically (but not optimistically of course, she was a sweet, darling niece, but still a teenager), “When you go home.”

It seemed humans were far less cynical than hospital forms - the maths were in his favour at fifty-nine. The rising likelihood of death only kicked in during the final years of human frailty. And even then, people still expected to leave the hospital room alive.

He did manage to, of course. (It is always of course with adults in hospitals. They have too much optimism to face their own mortality. The doctors will fix it! They can fix anything!)

He had a brief recovery period and a new scar across his right side, but in return he could climb stairs without quietly nursing his ache. His perseverance could be shifted back to his work. Now he could spend perhaps a minute more shifting through financial reports than usual!

In truth, rather little changed. After a few days he stopped noticing the lack of ache. It was as if it had always been.

At the ripe old age of sixty three, Mr Appleigus decided to take up cycling again. The cause, however risky for his aging bones, was Sophie’s new habit. The darling girl had invited him to join her in cycling along the paths circling the nearby lagoons. (In truth, a series of attacks on young women had prompted her father to suggest she take a partner. He still felt honoured to be the first person she could think of willing to get up at six in the morning to cycle with a girl who kept at least one headphone in for the entire journey.)

It wasn’t the infamous attacker that caused the incident, but a rather innocent basketball.

As the two Appleigi (Sophie smiled wryly at his nickname of Cycling Appleigings, so it seemed the family sense of humour would outlive him), had lazily made their second lap, the lull between the opening determination and final rush to the finish taking full effect, the ball had rolled across the path in the same lazy manner. The calm of the morning echoed in its slow, wobbly rolls across the uneven ground. It was easy enough to pedal around, with Mr Appleigus moving to follow Sophie’s arc with smooth, easy strokes of the leg. The clumsy child chasing it was not so predictable. They bumbled, small and quick with tunnel vision focused only on the bright orange of his plaything. While not a parent himself, Mr Appleigus had in him the same instinct found in almost every human over the age of fifteen. He saw the small, reckless child and swerved.

The bike went sideways, wheels rising violently from the tar like a wave against the coastline as his body hit the root-ridden path. The whole colossal wreck of metal and limbs fell thankfully clear of the child. Dimly he heard shouting - the cries of parents chasing their child with the same tunnel vision he had chased his ball - but it was drowned out by the sharp pain in his arm. The physical sensation tore apart any coherent sense of sound or sight beyond bright flashes of both.

Mr Appleigus slowly regained his full ability to see and hear clearly on his route to the hospital. He found himself in a similar hospital bed to his previous visit. Though this time it was a different doctor.

“We’ve found a series of fractures up your left arm and to your shoulder,” the doctor said. This one checked the clipboard as he spoke. Perhaps he was new and nervous. Perhaps he was old to it and liked to get things right, “It needs to be reset in places. With multiple pins to keep it stable.”

Mr Appleigus nodded. He didn’t really understand anything beyond the fact that the doctor was promising him a working arm. He agreed and signed almost exact copies of the forms before. His brother and niece came to visit again - his brother apologetic that he could be injured on bike rides it was his idea he went on. (Sophie wasn’t apologetic. She would still be his favourite niece, he thought, even if he had more than one.)

While unapologetic, Sophie brought him another of the potted plants - another tiny geranium-esque flower, though this one had dark pink blooms instead of blue.

“You can start a collection,” she shrugged, “a window box. But inside the window.” Still a teenager then, with the blunt and seemingly meaningless humour he was yet to understand.

His arm took longer to recover from than his hip - maybe as this time it was multiple bones in multiple pieces. Still, he got back to normal eventually. And got back to his morning bike rides in no time.

When he was sixty-five and his hands started shaking, he wondered if something went wrong with his bones. Maybe band-aid hadn’t quite covered the wound. He was surprised to learn it was Parkinson’s disease - early on-set. It always seems good to be diagnosed early, but they can’t cure it. It’s not like cancer, they can’t rip it out. All they did was medicate.

As Mr Appleigus was coming to accept this, a doctor - this one not in a hospital room, but the office of his local practitioner - offered him a second option. A new trial surgery - one with even more forms to give the doctors deniability than usual - that will hollow out his arms, and fill them with prosthetic pieces. A few nerves replaced with tiny wires. His main joints replaced with carbon fiber copies. They said it would stop the shaking.

So he said yes.

(Sophie stopped by his apartment and brought his still-living flowers to his hospital room.) He stayed in hospital for a month, and his brother visited once a week and brought Sophie fortnightly. (She had her new university classes to juggle. Apparently first year engineering kept one very busy.)

This was the first surgery that felt different. He could not forget that his nerves were wires or joints prosthetic. He could feel them. Always. But they gave him a steady hand. He could keep working - he was reaching that ever-elusive retirement age, but he liked the money and the substance to his otherwise empty weeks. It was just a band aid that needed to stay on. But, then again, it wasn’t much different from the previous surgeries.

He had a few more surgeries as he aged - his heart was weak, so they’d printed new arteries and added clamps to keep it’s beating stable. His lungs grew weaker, so they patched them up like sails of flesh, with the wind controlled by a sharp electric shock if they got too slow.

The doctors and their never-failing optimism kept him together with their band-aids.

When he turned eighty-one, they told him he had Alzheimers. That he would start to forget. Not everything - and not immediately. Just that for a brief moment of time, his brother’s funeral would slip his mind. Or he might be convinced he’d eaten twice already, but actually have forgotten to all day. And of course, he’d have to stop working in the office. He didn’t really do anything there anymore apart from simple filing. But he really didn’t have much else to do.

When the doctor’s told him they could fix his brain - put his memories into a series of microchips of his most important memory and give him a RAM as stable as computers - Mr Appleigus said yes.

Despite being almost the same size as he was at fifty-nine, Mr Appleigus felt very small. Sophie still visited him when she had time - she had a job then, just like him. He learned to keep his sentences short - usually yes or no replies. She wasn’t as blunt with him as she used to be - while she pretended to understand him, he knew when she couldn’t. She might have asked him to repeat himself once or twice, but after that simply guesses.

Appleigi was too many syllables to pronounce, but after many tries Sophie smiled and he knew she understood.

“I’ll have to bring you more flowers,” she said, noting that the old plants had finally died. He noted a niceness to her voice that hadn’t been there when she was younger - she’d started to grow up. Maybe she was already grown. His eyes were heavy. Everything dimmed. The machine memories were brighter, but the sight and sound swam past him. As if he was lying on the bicycle path again, only instead of sharp pain he was faced with a vast numbness. A letting go.

Mr Appleigus stopped noticing how his body moved. He stopped feeling the stairs beneath his feet. He stopped comprehending the files the chips in his brain and carbon fiber finger joints typed out on their own.

He didn’t notice his coworkers start to complain about a growing rancid smell. Or the putrid liquid seeping out from the gaps in his plastic skin. Or even the foul sloshing at each step. Not even the maggots wriggling between his copper nerves.

Mr Appleigus didn’t notice his niece set a pot of bright orange geraniums beside him in his favourite chair. He had no memory of turning to her, his mind sending a greeting that came out as an olid smacking of over-ripe lips.

By the time Sophie Appleigus, with a towel wrapped around her lower face and arms clad in dishwashing gloves up to her elbow, drove a screwdriver through his skull and dug through his rank, rotten brain for the chips put there when there was still something to bandage, Mr Appleigus was already long gone.

#original writing #Mr Appleigus #fiction #biomedical engineering

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no-i-didnt-notice-im-short · 6 years

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Galra Game Night

Part 1, Ao3

Part 2:

Lance looked at the dice which, upon further inspection, looked like a normal monopoly dice. All sides made sense and were the same size… so what was the catch?

He looked around the room at the Galra surrounding him. He was their entertainment. They couldn’t care less about whether he made it out of this game unscathed or even dead.

And then it all clicked. He was theirs to play with until he rolls higher. To do whatever the hell they wanted.

The gruesomely looking Galra in front of him smiled, something his face probably wasn’t designed to do in the first place, and rolled his dice. A 5 and a 6. Almost a perfect roll. It almost seemed fitting. He prayed to whoever was listening, though he knew it was kind of impossible, that he gets a 6 each. He closed his eyes and rolled.

Because he closed his eyes, he didn’t see neither the hit nor the results of his roll as the next thing he knew, he was thrown across the room into the arms of one of the soldiers around the ring.

“A 3 and a 4 are nothing against my 11, Blue Paladin.” Gruesome Face mocked. “Remember. Roll higher.”

He said it like Lance had a choice. This was a game of probability. A game of luck. Lance knew that if he didn’t roll higher, he will not live long enough to survive the game. And that was exactly what they wanted.

He stood up on shaky legs and slowly walked to the centre of the room and sat back down, crossing his legs and looking in front of him with his head held high. He was not going to let them get to him. The Galra sneered and rolled for his turn.

4 and 5.

Not that high. Maybe Lance actually could have a shot at this.

Just before he rolled, his head collided with someone’s foot and he saw stars. His whole brain throbbed as he was kicked to the side, blood pouring from the trauma gash on the left side of his face. His shaky hands, too weak to hold the dice, promptly dropped them to show 3 and 2.

Dios.

This was going to be so much harder than he thought, and it wasn’t even that bad yet. All he had was a head trauma and some bruised ribs. He knew that if it was pidge here, she would’ve suffered more as her body was relatively smaller. If it was Keith, they would have known he was half Galra. If it was Hunk, he would’ve been too nervous and that would have aggravated them to get more entertainment. If was Shiro, Dios, if it was Shiro he wouldn’t have survived. They would’ve been way, way more… angry, anything to break the witch’s champion.

So, he was glad it was him. He was a neutral captive. Not too important and much more expandable, easily replaced.

He barely waited a few seconds for the black spots to clear from his vision before a punch to the back threw him off his feet in front of him. His breath knocked out of him as the floor sped to catch his fall. They were taking turns with him; Each fulfilling their own vendetta against Voltron.

The Galra rolled a 4 and a 5 which Lance went up against with a 1 and a 6 and a few broken fingers. They were going for his hand mainly, urging him to drop the dice instead of actually putting effort into rolling it, like he could’ve actively chosen what he got.

His broken fingers shook, each movement aggravating whatever pain was inflicted on him to intensify by 10 fold making him see white for a few seconds. They went on for 2 more turns before Lance couldn’t do anything anymore and his vision went completely black finally indicating his limit.

“Take him back to the cell.” Gruesome Face ordered. “This is not fun without his reactions and screams. Bring him back after a few vargas.”

“Why not take one of the others?” A random Galra asked.

“Because this one is the heart of that team.” He smiled sadistically. “Break him and you break all of them”

------

Shiro’s mind was racing a hundred miles per hour. Lance has been gone for hours now and it was driving them all insane.

The soldiers came to tie them all to the wall but didn’t grace them with their presence after that. Keith fought them with all he had as they manhandled Hunk, who was still out of it, to tie him to the wall. They ended up getting a longer chain for Hunk not before decking Keith and tying him to the wall in silence. Shiro’s attention was tunnelled on Pidge, making sure she was okay and not treated too roughly. The cuff that was on his arm de-activated it, they came prepared for him.

But that was all they did. They didn’t come to interrogate them or torture them for ‘fun’. Were they that satisfied with what they were doing to Lance?

A few more minutes passed and the cell door opened. A Galra soldier walked in carrying a limb bloodied body that he recognized as Lance. His leg was twisted in an ungodly direction while his head bled down his face. He had his arms around his chest while breathing in shallow breaths; he must’ve broken some ribs. God, Why did this happen to Lance of all people?

Actually ending up with Lance was the best thing that could’ve ever happen to him in space. He confessed once that he wouldn’t have dated Lance back on earth, that they were too alike back then that they wouldn’t have worked out. But right now, he realized that he was what Shiro wanted, what he needed. Lance was made for him; with his stupid jokes and big compassionate heart and understanding personality. He was always animated, made sure the atmosphere was never too awkward or too dense; he never pushed Shiro to make an effort in a conversation when he couldn’t and he never hated him for it too.

So to see him this… lifeless broke Shiro heart into a million pieces. How could anyone ruin something that was so pure, so full of love and life and turn it to this. He tried so hard to shield the others with all his being to the devastations of war. To spare them the misery and pain, but he knew that had a limit. They were Paladins after all. But right now, he couldn’t help but hate himself for failing Lance.

“What did you do to him!” Pidge thrashed all but broke off the chains. The older paladin never saw her angry like this in all the time he knew her.

He felt frozen in his place. He couldn’t move a muscle. It’s like time stopped and all that was in the cell was just him and Lance.

The Galra walked in to the middle of the cell, away from the wall so their hands couldn’t reach him, and left him there and closed the cell behind them.

He looked far too young.

“Lance…” Shiro didn’t know why he whispered, all he knew was how utterly hopeless he felt at that moment. “Please, baby. Open your eyes.”

A few minutes passed without a single sound besides their too loud heartbeats and Lance’s shallow breaths. His eyes were zeroed on Lance’s chest to keep reminding himself that he is breathing and there could be a chance for Lance to survive this.

During the time they waited for Lance, Keith and Hunk woke up and as if on instinct they both sought out each other out to make sure of the other’s safety. He would’ve envied them if they were anyone but Keith and Hunk.

“Is he going to be alright?”

“He better be.” Keith said, defensively. “Hunk, can you reach him?”

Hunk crawled forward, wincing at every move as he must have bruises from the battle and from being manhandled by the guards. He barely reached Lance, only at the level of his arm.

“This is probably going to hurt, buddy, but you know I wouldn’t do it on purpose if I didn’t have to.” Hunk whispered, not like Lance could hear him anyways, he was still out cold.

He crawled forward, grabbed Lance’s less injured arm and pulled him unto his lap. Lance’s painful yet low pain-filled groan was the best thing Shiro heard, giving the circumstance, as it meant Lance still felt physically pain and wasn’t completely in a coma.

After some slightly thorough examination, Hunk confirmed the broken ribs and twisted ankle and added the broken wrist and fingers and dislocated shoulder. He also suspected a concussion based on his head trauma. Overall, he was not doing remotely well.

“When they come back, I am taking his place.” Shiro told the rest of the Paladins. There was finality in his voice that the others caught on and didn’t argue with. He stared at Lance, imaging the lively tanned boy he loved with all his being to keep that image of Lance in his mind. This… This wasn’t his Lance.

“You should re-set his shoulder before he wakes up.” Keith suggested. “And before you guys hate me for this, it will be less painful for him now unconscious than if he was conscious. Believe me.”

Hunk looked at Shiro as if asking permission. He hesitantly nodded and closed his eyes. He didn’t to see anything that could give Lance pain, even if it was for his sake. Shiro heard Hunk take a deep breath and a POP sound.

“God I am so sorry, Lance. I am sorry.” Shiro opened his eyes to see Hunk holding Lance tightly and slightly shaking with tears falling onto lance under him.

Another sharper groan came out of Lance as he slowly opened his pain filled eyes, which were in direct line of vision with Shiro’s.

At first no one spoke.

They couldn’t believe that Lance could wake up this early; they estimated he might take another few hours to regain the slightest sliver of consciousness due to his painful injuries, but then again, hunk did just reset his dislocated shouler. They were lucky this was Lance’s reaction instead of something more critical.

“Hey, buddy.” Hunk combed Lance’s hair away from his eyes to try and attempt to make the Cuban as comfortable as he possibly can in this disgusting tiny cell. He wiped away the fallen tears off of Lance’s face.

“H..Hey” Lance’s voice wouldn’t have been heard if they all hadn’t been holding their breath.

“Could you please stay awake for us?”

“Sure…”

Blue eyes met grey and Shiro wanted to nothing over than to kill every single Galra that hurt Lance on this ship.

“Hey baby…”

Lance attempted to smile. He must’ve seen the guilt in Shiro’s eyes. Even now, Lance wanted to make sure Shiro was okay.

“We are getting you out of here, okay? Just hang tight for me.”

He knew his promise was somewhat unbelievable but he needed to hold on to any possible hope that he could find within himself.

They kept the small talk going with Lance, whether it was Shiro or Hunk, while the other talked to Pidge thinking of a way to get out and get transmission to Allura or even to Lotor’s ship.

“You sure this could work?” Shiro asked for the what felt like the millionth time.

“Yes. Jesus Shiro, you need to have more faith in me.” Shiro looked at Lance who was talking softly to Hunk. They couldn’t afford mistakes. “I’ll explain the plan to you again to ease your mind, okay?”

Shiro nodded and looked at Pidge to give her his undivided attention.

“My watch will send a faint, short transmission to the Olkari, since they are the only planet bothered to memorize its coordinates, and Earth is out of the question, they will know it’s me as we have codenames, don’t ask, and they will contact the castle which will notify Allura.”

“Then send the transmission already.”

“You need to let me finish, Shirogane. The cell walls are blocking the signal. When they come again, we need to keep that door open for as long as possible, which will give me enough time to send the transmission. Capiche?”

“Shirogane?” He couldn’t hide the smile off his lips. Matt used to all him that whenever he was being extra annoying. He missed that too much sometimes.

“What?”

“Nothing. So we have to distract the guards?”

“Exactly.”

“I can do that.”

Everyone in the cell fell silence and stared at Lance. No one expected him to have been listening to Pidge in the first place.

“What?”

“I said I can do it. I am the only one untied and they will come for me anyways. All I have to do is just make it a bit more difficult for them to take me.”

Lance was regaining some of his strength as apparently demonstrated by his stronger-than-before voice and colour that was ever so slowly coming back to his previously tanned complexion.

“You are not going back out there, Lance.” Keith broke the silence. Shiro could see his knuckles white from being clenched so tightly from rage. “I am going.”

“Neither of you are going.” Shiro broke Lance off before he spoke. “I am the leader and Black Paladin. It is supposed to be me.”

“Bullshit.”

“Lance…”

“You heard me. That’s bullshit. They got used to me so I am going. Besides, like you said, you are the black paladin they are going to be much more brutal with you, hell even with Keith ever since the news about the Red Paladin being half Galra spread. I am going and that is final.”

Lance rarely spoke with such authority towards the team, always accepting his role as the buffer and the more sensible one between them, that when he actually does speak like this, it stumps all of them silent.

“You have thought about this before, haven’t you?”

“Yeah… Hunk is injured and Pidge is too valuable and young to volunteer. It’s going to be me. It can’t be anyone else.”

Shiro stared at Lance. He remembered the conversation Keith told him he and Lance had before. He thought he expendable, replaceable.

Which couldn’t be further from the truth.

Their comebacks to what Lance had just said was cut off as the door of the cell abruptly opened showing the same Galra general that came the first time Lance was taken.

“Well, Blue Paladin. We have clearly assumed the worst and gave you enough time to regain your strength back. Ready for round 2?”

“Round 2? You mean I didn’t win yet?” Lance looked at the Galra up and down and smirked. He was buying them time. “Bummer and I hear I was wondering you came to give me my reward for kicking Gruesome Face’s ass.”

“Keep mouthing off, Paladin, and you will have me to be afraid of too. The soldiers won’t be the only ones attacking you between your rolls.”

“A general? Targetting lil ‘ol me? I feel honoured.”

Shiro’s blood ran cold. All this conversation was doing is adding fuel to the flame and Lance was slowly signing off his death sentence. He looked at Pidge who was even paler than usual as she looked at the scene in front of her and then down subtly at her hidden watch.

“You should.” The general’s predatory look towards Lance left a bitter taste in Shiro’s mouth. “What the other did to you is nothing compared to what I am planning.”

He gestured towards the guard that stood next to the door to take Lance away. The minute he was close to Lance, everything happened so fast.

Lance rounded a punch aimed at the guard’s jaw, which met its intended target as it held the element of surprise to its advantage. But the guard quickly recovered and returned the favour by punching Lance in the face, resulting with a split lip that stained lance’s teeth red.

“The guards are instructed to hurt you everywhere but your last working hand.” The general sneered as Lance was hauled off his feet. “Call it generosity but the game wouldn’t be fun with you completely useless, now would it?”

Shiro fought against the restrains so much that his human wrist was bleeding. He caught Lance looking at Pidge with a questioning look that she returned with a nod.

The transmission was sent. Help was on its way.

But at what cost?

I took way too long to update this, i am so sorry.

Hope you guys like this one ❤

#galra game night #part 2 #langst #shangst #shance #heith #keith/hunk #lance mcclain #takashi shirogane #hunk garrett #pidge gunderson #keith kogane #voltron #vld

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agreementtale · 4 years

Text

Chapter 8: There are two rules in life:

Step one eat the whole pie

Step two take care of Mother (A laugh a day) In progress

-> Bath (Too yellow) Bleaching (Maybe?)

-> Sewing clothes (Can you even?)

-> Pie => Get cinnamon (Where?) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

-> Tidy the house (Doesn’t count)

-> Fix her relations with other monsters (especially Flowey)

Step two 3 gather materials => Boot, Toy, Ribbon(on inventory)

Step three 4 go to ‘icy place’

Step four 5 befriend the hell out of monsters

Step five 6 break the barrier

They eyed the list, unimpressed, ten days after they wrote it and the only thing they managed to do was eating pie… She was the one doing all chores, more interested in them learning school things than helping her around the house… it was frustrating, but they wouldn’t give up.

Seemed that the only incentive she needed to tidy the house was a guest, since they got there the house was spotless. They tried helping her on the kitchen without success, after their lucky strike the first day, she always beat them to washing the dishes… Always with a concerned expression, if they were present she would wear a uncertain smile, but they could see right through it.

She didn’t trust them.

They didn’t blame her.

“Is there something on your mind, innocent one?” She asked making a move to grab something.

They promptly handed her the dish towel “Just kid stuff” they watched her drying the dishes with the old towel, everything in Toriel’s house has either rather old, but incredibly well conserved furniture, books and utensils, or plain fresh, ingredients mostly.

“If you have a problem, you can always come to me, child” She said patting their head “I am your mother after all” They could barely suppress the pride on hearing that remark, but now wasn’t time for this, she wasn’t happy, they shouldn't feel proud yet, not when it was their responsibility change that in the first place.

“Can you teach me how to sew?” Clothes were on the old category, smelled like old, but wasn’t bad for the touch, neither caused them any skin reaction, they tested, and were fairly well conserved. But her clothes, on the other hand, were ripped around the edges and had a few holes on them.

“Of course” They actually had tried to fix them and surprise her, only to find out they definitely did not knew how to sew “I can insert this on our curriculum for this semester” They could feel warmth radiating from her voice just at the thought “On the condition you only use a needle in my presence” she added, half teasing.

“Ok” whatever they had done on the other resets, this run gained the cup of having their fingers stabbed by needles… those little pointy things were evil “Only with supervision” which was odd, sewing seemed like a useful capacity to have.

The thought of them ignoring a survival ability like this made them question their wisdom.

If it was survival, they had to learn it.

It’s not like they could rely on other people to do it for them all the time. Who on these days knew how to sew anyway?

“Then I’ll be delighted to teach you” That is outside of their wonderful mother, of course.

“By the way, yesterday I wanted to cut myself some pie, but I couldn’t find any knife” Not a single one since they appeared, they kept waiting to catch her using one, but she seemed not to like using the it, which strike them as odd.

“Well… you could have asked me child, I would give you a piece” If she was uneasy, she didn’t show, maybe they could be a little more clear without alarming her.

“And today there aren’t any knives on the sink either” She stopped putting the plates away.

“You… are a very observant child” Now she was unease, great…

“I am old enough to use a knife, you know” She didn’t answer “and I like pie!” she chuckled a little.

“I have no doubt about it” just a little, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes “but I still worry”

“I could have a dull knife if it makes you feel better” They would feel better with a sharpened one, but a dull knife was better than no knife.

“How about a pie knife?” uneasiness again creeping into her voice.

“Perfect!” Anything to not listen that borderline painful intonation.

She placed a kiss on their forehead, and moved back to the shelf, her hand way above her field of vision to grab something high, what must be at least 3 meters. She must have noticed their confusion.

“See, I was hoping to find children, even younger than yourself” she handed them a simple silver pie knife, it wouldn’t serve as a tool, but now they knew where she had the silverware hidden, carefully they put it with the other cutlery “I had to make sure the house was safe for the little ones” it wouldn’t needed to be this tall for children...

Maybe younger humans wouldn’t be her only concern.

Smart move.

“Are you playing with your brother today?”

“Yep” It had become a routine.

“Come back before dark this time” Every morning she would give them lessons, every afternoon they would explore the ruins with Flowey.

“Ok” They were sure that the ruins hadn’t any more equips, but random encounters with monsters and regular exercise had made them happy on the small place they called home.

“And I mean it this time” She followed them to the door “If you are late, you are getting no dinner, young one” it was an empty threat, she was always so relieved they came back she mysteriously forgot to keep her word... That is until the next day, when they got no dessert for making her worry, pity, they liked desert.

“Bye mom” They waved at her, asking themselves if she would follow today, Flowey had confirmed she had done it the first week they went out, at first he got jumpy with the idea, but then he got used to it.

Now it seemed she got used to the idea as well, since she hadn’t followed them for two days in a row.

“She’s not joining us this time?” As always, he waited for them on the distance, from a position she couldn’t see.

“Maybe” he looked a little grumpy, did he wanted her to follow them around? “How was your morning?”

“Awful, that Froggit keep following me, don’t matter how many tunnels I use, he always find me, every single day”

You mean that one?” They pointed to the innocent monster, listening to Flowey’s frustrated screech.

“Stop following me you idiot!” The Froggit just hopped closer looking them in the eyes.

“Hi” they waved.

“Don’t encourage him!” ignoring the Flower, the Froggit croaked back.

“Are you the guy from before? The one with a strong headbutt?” until today, that Froggit and the ghost were the only ones that got away before they could spare them.

Froggit croaked timidly, while Flowey grumbled.

“You want to show me the place around?” the frog croaked decisively, leading the way, they promptly followed.

“Are we really doing this today?” Despite his ‘tired of your bullshit’ air, he followed.

“Why? Have anything better to do?” since they fell he seemed to spend all of his time with them, except for when they were on the house, then he just waited outside, that had to change one of these days…

“Don’t let him outsmart you again” he warned morosely.

“Why so serious?” they joked.

“Can’t believe that I would end up as a babysitter for two dummies” he murmured, the Froggit did not paid any attention to it, going ahead on strong jumps.

“It’s not that bad” They were heading to a part of the path containing the pitfall traps, the Froggit dodged them expertly, they let him lead the way, despite having it memorized by now.

“It is when a frog is the smart one” They only smiled and let him rant about their stupidity on not becoming stronger and stubbornness on not escaping her house while she slept.

This Froggit was a particularly smart one, he managed to avoid all the traps, follow Flowey until he tracked his way back to them. It almost took away the sting of dying… almost.

He led them to other monsters, apparently his own family, they spent a nice afternoon complimenting and playing catch. Flowey complained about a wasted afternoon, but after he found a playmate, they caught him smiling every once in a while, a little Froggit, small enough to fit on his leaves, jumped and dodged his vines, while he pretended to be a giant monster.

With the diming of lights they waved goodbye to their new friends and headed home, he followed without any complaints, it gave them an idea. They asked him to wait for them on the entrance of the spider baking sale, his good mood allowing the detour without too much of a fuss.

Getting there they quickly approached the biggest web, whispering to the spiders about the two items they needed, leaving a few coins on the web. Spiders were resourceful, they remembered that.

Going back to Flowey they made conversation for the rest of the way home. The reflecting stones on the ceiling of the cave were already dim for a while, it was night out there, they kinda missed seeing the moon and stars.

“You will miss dessert again” the flower said, bringing them back to reality.

“That’s fine” although they liked the homemade sweets, their mission was more important.

“I though you liked cookies”

“And caramels, and chocolate, and sweet sweet pie” their mother knew how to cook, the memory tantalizing, they could almost taste it, all they had to do was get home in time and they would have a delicious reward.

“You’re drooling” They clasped their mouth shut and tried to clean themselves, only to find out they were not drooling, what a liar! They shoot him an irritated look, he meet the stare with his ‘whatever’ face.

“Greetings children” They both looked at the old monster hidden behind the tree, they with mildly surprise, he with growing anxiety.

“Hi mom” they promptly gave her a hug, he mumbled something, but her fur made it inaudible.

“And you should be Flowey” he nodded, making an effort not to tremble on his roots “The little one told me all kinds of good things about the valiant brother that protected them all this time”

“…m… ot… …t” he didn’t met her eyes, all the time looking at the ground, his damaged petals seemed to wither under her gaze, they never saw him that emotive before, not when they called him brother, not even when they called her mother, maybe he was more scared than they realized.

“Pardon me?” If he was that terrified, maybe they should give him a way out? She was never going to hurt him, they’ve been putting in a good word for him every night, but he didn’t know that.

“I’m not valiant” He repeated still quietly, his stem trembled, he looked small. They let go of her arms, determined to save their brother, but quicker than they could react, she beat them to him.

“Of course you are” She said gently, kneeled before him, they did not know if he got even smaller, or if it was just the subconscious comparison to her massive size that made him appear like that “You are very brave and very kind, young one, I can see that” they stood at her side, maybe it would turn out ok, if they didn’t interfere “Why don’t you join us over dinner?”

Like a sudden wave of fireworks in an empty night.

His face lifted to meet hers, an expression of wonderment and uncertainty, his petals gained color, on his eyes the shine of a precious memory, his mouth opening slightly to give her a reply.

Then it was gone… like the dying lights on the dark sky.

“Thank you, but… I’ll… I’ll just…”

“Please, I insist” She remained calm and gentle.

Avoiding her gaze “I would just destroy your floor” he laughed humorlessly “and dirt your house” He looked defeated, that wouldn’t do. They knew this expression, they had worn it too, he had tried it more times than what he could afford to fail.

“It is not a problem, we can–/”

“I can’t be uprooted, my roots have to have something firm to cling on” he interrupted her. Well, he didn’t have to be uprooted, they could put him in a pot.

“Then–/”

“Pots won’t do either” Or not… thinking about it, it was a too obvious of an answer for him not to have already tried “It’s too compact, I can’t breathe, the roots get squeezed” It had to be a solution somewhere.

“We could–/”

“Eating outside it’s a bad idea” they just had to think outside the box “without fire it would be all too dark to see”

“I could easily–/”

“A fire would be a bad idea” She was getting more frustrated at each interrupted attempt, he had already gave up “the Whimsuns would be attracted by it and catch fire”.

“We could–/”

“Thr–/”

“A boot!” they interrupted his interruption, with a raised finger “We could use a boot!” wasting no time, they took the Old Boot and the Toy Knife out of their inventory.

“To what? Stomp the fire down?” They used the piece of plastic as a shovel, filling the boot with dirt.

“It’s big, so you have enough space” they struggled to pierce the ground, ruining the knife, but getting earth enough to fill the recipient “There you go!”

Flowey eyed them incredulously “That’s like a pot, but worse”

“Please child, at least try it” She encouraged him, opening space for them to approach.

“Humor me a little, please?” he still stared at them, without any expression “pleeeeease?”

Rolling his eyes he lifted is vines, entering the boot. It was a fun sight, he looked bigger, but so much thinner than they had imagined.

“So?” they asked expectantly.

“It’s like a pot” he paused, looking them in the eyes “But worse” they gave him a displeased face, he had to at least try! “It have no space, I’ll suffocate in here!”

“You can untie those strings for more space” they pointed to shoelaces “or even pass your roots through these holes” he looked at them and tried a few experimental wiggles, poking two of his main vines out of the boot.

“What about now?” she asked him, he looked uncertain again.

“Maybe?” a few more movements and him using his roots to put more earth on the makeshift pot morphed his expression to something lighter “I guess…”

“Wonderful!” she said haply.

“Finally! Now we can share a room again!” They caught the boot on their arms, like a precious treasure.

“I just agree to a dinner” he seemed to adjust to the new environment, holding on their arms with a vine for extra support.

“And a sleepover!” they added with little jumps of happiness.

“She didn’t invite me to stay the night, stupid!” he said between hisses as he struggled to maintain balance, they stopped jumping.

She coughed “Flowey, please refrain to name calling, this child found a solution for a puzzle both of us could not, they are anything but stupid” he gulped “Besides, they are right, you two can share the room as long as they wish for”

“And I’ll tell you right away, brother, if it depends on me we are sharing it until the end of times!” He scoffed at them, but they could see how his petals looked vivid, his posture upright, his stem and leaves doing little happy wiggles.

After all this time, a dinner in family was all they wished for.

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#AgreementTale #undertale #fanfiction #archieve of our own #long fic

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