#its-me-frisk

[huds-hub]

Have my muse say-- 17, Flowey

(( ”Have Undyne say something angry to your muse” Starter ))

Undyne followed a stretch of plucked blue petals through Waterfall. Innocent stalks of uprooted echo flowers peppered the path. “Who did this...?! ...why??”

At the end of the trail was a certain yellow flower monster.

“Was it you?!?!”

[pollenprince]

Oh, therapy is a marvelous idea! Though, it is important to find a therapist you can trust... Perhaps you would be more open to the idea of self-help books, first? I use them, myself.

“I don’t even know what that means! What self-help books?! What’s going on?!”

[its-me-frisk]

[pollenprince]

Timeline 11

- the timeline in which something very little happened differently, but it changed a lot

It is dark and quiet, and the entire world is black as if night has settled all across the universe. Only the distant wind is howling over the lifeless depths.

Frisk stands over the abyss, hands wrapped around the small goat monster. He is sniffling into their shoulder, and their shirt is already wet. When they awkwardly pat him on the back, they can almost feel the enormous energy trapped within; it makes their palms tickle with static electricity.

“I don’t want to let go,” Asriel says, ever so softly, but he’s already loosening his grip, as if afraid that he won’t be able to unclasp his hands if he waits a second longer. The edges of his small figure are fuzzy, and it’s not just the fur. “Well... My time's running out. Goodbye. By the way... take care of Mom and Dad for me, okay?”

Frisk’s hands twitch.

In another world, in another story, they would sign. They would stop him from walking away. Offer a solution that is not the best, perhaps, but still solves his soullessness problem.

Here, after a moment’s hesitation, they still again, and they simply watch Asriel walk away with a nervous sniffle. 

As he goes farther and farther, his figure gets blurry, and then the light comes.

***

It is dark and quiet.

Flowey wraps one leaf around himself out of habit, seeking no warmth nor comfort. There is the usual hollowness inside him, a void that cannot be sated. But there’s a distant contentedness, as well.

He made up for his mistakes. He saved everyone.

There is very little left for him. He has nothing to hope for, nothing to move towards. He has no future and too much past. He does not want much. But at least, there is that small silver lining: this is the happiest ending possible, just not for him.

Alone, in the Ruins, guarding his sibling’s resting place, he sighs and starts singing a lullaby. It’s devoid of feeling, but it’s sweet nonetheless.

When it ends, he falls asleep too.

[its-me-frisk]

[pollenprince]

* (There is now an entire stack of paper in your inventory. Have at it!)

Daisy proceeds to methodically rip and crumple the paper, letting out his anger. When he gets to the end of the stack, the room looks like the battlefield of paper armies, and Daisy looks a little calmer.

He does not say thank you, but he grunts something unintelligible which can be interpreted as a sign of gratitude, so there.

[pollenprince]

Mm... Now seems like a good time to remind everyone that touching someone when they have asked you not to is rude at best, even if (you think) they are a family member.

“Thank you. And to everyone else: this is an example of a person who’s not in danger of getting bitten. Please watch and learn.”

[pollenprince]

Hmm... Well, butterscotch-cinnamon pie is always readily available here. But I can see what other ingredients we have if you would like something else!

“...Can I get vanilla? For a change. I love Butts Pie as much as any other kid, but my palette is kind of cloyed by now.”