KILL OR BE KILLED

          “ never seen a monster like you around here before. ”

You know when there’s that character in the RP whose bio says that he’s supposed to be ‘manipulative’ and ‘sly’ and really good at reading people and clever and stuff?

       “ That is alright. ”

He said, making very rigid okay signs with both of his hands. Each segment of his phalanges cracked with the most minute movement, but no pain was felt. Every creak, often earning a tired, wistful sigh from the ( ex) royal scientist during his time of employment, now fed his confidence. Simply by the presence of that sound. Simply because he was ‘solid‘ enough to create it.

      “ My old home— Haha, I hardly considered it very— homely.         It was very— uncomfortable. I thought— that it was about         time for a change in scenery. I have lived in— many other         places. The capital, Hotland, Snowdin… Changing things         up a little, every once in a while— Is good, don’t you think?

“Yeah, I LOVE traveling!” Flowey laughed, making no move to relax. While he put up a good show of friendliness, he was ready to FIGHT at any moment. He hadn’t learned Gaster’s patterns yet, after all. Around new characters one should always tread lightly. 

“I’m from, uh, the Ruins! There’s plenty of talking flowers there!” And Gaster would never be able to meet them if he couldn’t dig under the door. A perfect lie.

“THE MORE I SEE, THE MORE I KNOW. 

   THE MORE I KNOW, THE GREATER MY POWER. 

   THE GREATER MY POWER, THE MORE ENEMIES OF                YOURS I CAN CRUSH. 

* i mean, sure, go for it.

* what, you don’t lilac them?

* not even a lily bit?

      ❝you gotta learn when to leaf people alone.❞

               Sans isn’t about to take the sunflower up on it’s offer; quite to the contrary,                to be perfectly honest. He could tolerate a lot of things, but someone  –  or                something – trying to corrupt his younger brother  wasn’t  one  of  them.

The flower’s petals wilt to match an expression of faux sadness. Once upon a time Flowey was interested in helping Sans. In learning about whatever lay in that mysterious backstory of his. In finishing his story, one way or another. Flowey doesn’t care anymore-- thousands of deaths at the skeletons hands would do that. All he wishes for the skeleton now is the truest of agonies.

Flowey feels the tension crackle in the crisp Snowdin air. Sans had broken the charade of civility that the two shared, and now anything could happen. Most likely something violent. A small smile takes root. “Maybe you should try taking your own advice--” It blossoms into a cracked, grinning maw.

* hey there, bud-dy.

*(…. You hate me now, don’t you?)

No, what’s truly unforgivable is what Chara’s doing now. He had hoped that without a soul of their own, they would be empty. Cruel. Just like him. They should be helping him tear down this wretched world, not saving it!

        Though honestly, he wasn’t ALWAYS so hard to put up with. Sometimes he was EASY-GOING, but most of the time he’d be hollering about PACTS and plans for GLORY and all kinds of crap. When he wasn’t doing that, or INTENTIONALLY making Maggie’s life hard, he was all right. But times like those BARELY ever happened.

        At least the greedy little WEED was only in her dreams now though, instead of just following her AROUND as a creepy smiling ghost or whatever he was. Now, he wasn’t AS pushy considering he could only talk to her when she was ASLEEP; and tragically, she happened to be right now.

The Echo Flowers, bioluminescent and electric blue from stem to head, were plants with the gift of speech. And oh, did they speak. Advice, reminders, snatches of previous conversations, encouragement... and all of it in Flowey’s favor.

The door between had been discovered. This hub- this safe place where he could securely gather his thoughts and sleep knowing that he’d wake in the same place no matter what had been infiltrated by a  N O X I O U S  W E E D.   A hand was raised holding the formation of a peace sign as he his mind ticked and cogs turned in thought. There was zero doubt in his mind that this was the perfect opportunity to do what he intended to do from the first moment he saw visions of this flower. Yet, as he focused his energy into something that was sure to hurt, something else inside him refused. After all, there was something much greater to be gained by playing the innocent flower for a little while.

* It’s your turn, Aster.

     “ Ah— H-… Hello there. Sprouting so suddenly like that—         You gave me quite the s h o c k !  You don’t look like an         echo flower to me, so naturally… you must be a monster.“

Having briefly fallen silent and ceasing his accompanying hand signs, a gentle expression lit up the man’s face. He ‘knelt’ to meet his visitor’s level.

      ” How wonderful that I could be graced with a guest so soon!         The front door can be very easy to miss. In fact, so far, no one         has noticed that I’ve moved in. It is nice to meet you, Flowey.         Anyone that knows me, calls me ‘Gaster’. But as I am—         somewhat new to Waterfall, I suppose you’ll be the first one to         actually do that. “ 

Flowey’s grin widened, a pale, insincere crescent. Interesting. Once again, something new. He had never once heard of Gaster. Who was this monster? And why was he here, after so many resets of seeming non-existence? This filled Flowey with-- well, not happiness. Positive emotions were akin to the stars of Waterfall; distant, glimmering gems that lay tantalizingly out of reach, never to be held. No, this filled Flowey with DETERMINATION. With all those mysteries, all those secrets, Gaster must have been hiding something-- and Flowey wouldn’t rest until he found out what. (Finally, a challenge. Something he hadn’t experienced for countless years.)

         A normal person would consider flowers something nice – and, in          a way, they weren’t entirely wrong. Most of them were just that: a          nice smell, a pretty blossom, a gift to a loved one. But  there’s  one          that fits none of these criterias, hidden from view to most, its mere          existence a whisper that twists the minds  of  the  unsuspecting:          like his brother. The moment he’d found out that Papyrus had been          speaking to a golden flower was the exact same  one  that  had          prompted him to raise red flags. Making his way towards the core          of the lone woods surrounding Snowdin, he’d  have none of  this.

It’s not that Flowey’s in actual danger; his is the power to RESET. Even death is merely an inconvenience to the former prince. And now that his plot regarding The Great (to manipulate) Papyrus is officially ruined, he might as well get this over with-- and who knows? Maybe he’ll finally kill Sans, this time. It makes him smile, just thinking about it.