Panel 1: [amino User Emi]: How Do You Deal With Caterpillars Flowey? [flowey, With A Caterpillar On Their

GROUPTALE CHP 2 PGS 65-66

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Feisty…Nine?

trick or treat! my prompt is post pacifist flowey and asgore spending quality time together. gardening, perhaps? (it's up to you whether or not asgore knows flowey's identity)

…so I may or may not have written a 2.5k word hurt/comfort fic for this… hopefully you still like it, though!

Living on his own had been a harder task than Flowey’d realized. Star’d thought he was really cool when he declines offers of housing from Frisk and Papyrus. Now look where he was. Lost, alone, generally in a predicament. Emphasis on the first one, he had no clue where star even was. A lot of monsters had settled in the same place, a suburban neighborhood, but he was in the outskirts and all the houses looked the same and star’d tried to find differentiating features but everything was blurring together and star had no idea where to even go.

The sky was starting to bleed with the edges of a sinking sun and Flowey really didn’t feel like being caught outside, surrounded by a bunch of humans, with nowhere to hide when it went down. Where to go, where to GO… There had to be somewhere, right? Someplace safe. Someplace he wasn’t so exposed.

Star gave the street another sweep. There, a garden! Flowey wouldn’t be indoors, but he could stay covered, assimilated into the patch of golden flowers beneath the window. He could hide there until the light faded and it was harder to see. And then star’d spend the night doing… something. He’d figure it out. For now, he needed to get hidden. Anything after that could wait. 

Flowey ducked underground. For a moment he contemplated remaining there, but he knew that wasn’t an option. There wasn’t any air under there. He didn’t need air, but the echoes of lungs still burned for want of it when star held his breath. And it was cramped. Flowey had spent stars life underground, like hell he was going back.

Star came up and inhaled. Star’d undershot the distance a bit, unaccustomed to the world up here the way star had been underground, distances and locations memorized to the nearest detail. It was fun until it wasn’t.

Flowey pushed through a couple more feet of of dirt and shook himself off. He always hated the way dirt clung to stars petals, like it was trying to push star back down. He shuddered despite himself. 

The flowers grew thick here. Golden flowers always grew thick. Flowey let out a breath. He’d be safe.

A door opened inside the house, and a light flickered on, shining through the window. Flowey pulled the breath back in. A shadow passed by, stopping the flow of light. Flowey closed his eyes tight. What if he was caught, what if he was caught?

The shadow moved on. Flowey exhaled without a noise. Dishes clattered in the room—it must have been a kitchen. Flowey craned his (metaphorical) ears, dreading the return of the figure. Just then, star heard whistling.

Darn it.

The garden should have tipped star off. Of all the houses to find himself…

The light flickered off. The whistling grew fainter and fainter. Flowey exhaled. Well, that was that was that. Star tried to made himself comfortable and wait out the already beginning sunset. Darkness was already crawling forward onto the sky. Flowey buried himself in the mass of golden blossoms and tried not to look up.

And then star heard a door open, and the whistling got louder. Flowey pressed closer to the ground. Maybe star would be passed by. What was the chance that—

Furry hands reached into the flower patch and plucked the flower in front of Flowey. Flowey made a not-very-dignified squeak.

“Hello? Is there someone there?” said a deep, kindly voice.

Flowey held his breath, not daring to make even a single noise.

“Oh dear, I hope rats have not found their way into the plants… I will have to find ways to dispel them. Maybe I should ‘look it up’, as the kids say. Ho ho ho!” the voice chuckled.

Flowey tried very hard not to be offended by this.

Hands parted the flowers again and—just stars luck—rested on Flowey, gently handling star and tugging him out of the ground. They dug him out with careful precision carrying him forward the way they would a young son drifting off to sleep.

Flowey quickly shook the strands of memory from his head and tried to wiggle out of the hands’ grip. They released star and drew back in alarm. 

Flowey put up a glare and looked up into the concerned eyes of the ex-king of monsterkind.

The boss monster profusely apologized. “I’m horribly sorry, if I’d known you were sentient…”

Flowey had to fight off the urge to tell him to can it. Now wasn’t the time for that.

The ex-king finally slowed down. “What… were you doing in my garden, however, if I may ask?”

“I was, uh…” Flowey didn’t have a response for this. Why didn’t star have a response for this. He contemplated resetting before realizing not for the first time that he still didn’t have that power. That was… not good. Flowey froze up. How could he respond, how could he possibly respond? There had to be something to say, some line of dialogue that would solve this whole thing right up and make no one mention it again and get him away from here, there had to be something, there was always something!

“It’s alright.” Asgore’s voice sent a ray of heat through the ice freezing Flowey up. Star shivered. “You do not need an answer. I understand. It is getting quite dark out, isn’t it?” Asgore held out his hand. “There are better places to stay than out in this flower patch.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Then again, being among your fellow flowers may bring you comfort. Would you like me to bring in a few with you?”

“That… No!” Flowey shook off the residual icicles and tried to correct his outburst with as much politeness as he could muster. “I mean… that won’t be necessary. At all. I was just…” excuse excuse excuse “looking… around. And wanted to check out your flowers.” That was a horrible excuse. Who could even fall for that?

“I see.” Asgore could, apparently. “So you are not lacking a place to stay?”

“Well, uh…” Flowey cast a worried glance at the sky. He couldn’t hold back a flinch. Pink streaked the sky like blood on fur and he didn’t LIKE looking at it. He hated the way it forced old memories to bubble up to the surface and pop with decades of built-up force. He hated the way it looked, he hated the way it smelled, he hated the way it tasted of gunpower and hatred and kill them all, kill them all before we both die—

“Is everything alright?”

Flowey cussed internally and looked straight down. “On second thought, I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Star couldn’t look at that sky for a second longer. Star couldn’t. 

“Oh! Wonderful!” Asgore reached for the flower next to Flowey. 

Flowey stopped him. “That part really won’t be necessary.”

“Alrighty then!” Asgore moved his hand forward. Oh. He’d been holding it out this entire time.

Flowey reached out a root and tentatively clambered on. It was more than large enough to hold him. Flowey refused to acknowledge this, nor how comfortable it was. Star suppressed a yawn. Hopefully Asgore hadn’t noticed. Fortunately, it didn’t seem as if he had. 

Asgore led him inside the house. It was smaller than one’d expect of a past king, cozy starting to verge on crowded starting to verge on claustrophobia-inducing.

Flowey was placed on the kitchen counter. The kitchen was composed in a similar manner as the rest of the house, with the counter, table, and sink smushed together to the point where if the laws of physics did not forbid it they’d be occupying the same space. 

Calling the sink half-empty would be generous, it was more like a quarter that was empty as the rest was filled with dirty dishes—mostly teacups and plates. 

The old man had a whole corner of the counter dedicated to a shelf of teas—the golden flower section was empty, Flowey realized. That must’ve been why Asgore came out at all. Just Flowey’s luck.

Asgore placed the flower he’d picked on a drying rack on the ceiling. He had started humming again, that same dumb 8–or was it 7?—note melody Flowey knew all too well. 

Asgore turned to star. “Would you like some—” He took in Flowey’s appearance. “Ah. Perhaps not.”

Flowey could have tea! But he didn’t want any right now, so he said nothing.

“Would you like some food, then?”

Flowey hated monster culture just then. Was Asgore, a past KING, just going to invite a stranger into his home? Offer to feed them? Just like that? Why would he do that? Why would anyone? Why was everyone so darn NICE? Back underground, he’d thought the surface would break them. Break everyone. The way it’d broken him. But if Asgore was any indication, it hadn’t. So Flowey—Asriel must’ve just been… fragile. Breakable.

Flowey’s didn’t have an appetite. The echo that passed for his stomach churned. “I’m not hungry,” he barked out.

“Well. That is quite a shame, considering I have all these leftover pastries.”

Flowey looked up. Asgore’s eyes were twinkling. A plate was loaded with a cinnamon bunny and a fork and passed toward star. Like it was going to change anything. Sure, Flowey hadn’t… eaten in a while, and it did look pretty good, but…

Flowey caught a whiff of the sugary scent. Stars mouth watered. Maybe just a bite.

Decisively not looking at Asgore, Flowey used a vine and the fork to lift the pastry to his mouth.

He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the taste hit him. Despite knowing death like an old friend, he’d never been to any of those so-called “good” human afterlifes. But he was pretty sure this was it. This was the high of culinary achievement. 

He stopped when he saw that Asgore’s amused grin had faded into concern. “When was the last time you ate, if I may ask?”

Flowey didn’t know. Star couldn’t remember. Flowers didn’t need to do things like eat, or sleep. Had he ever? Not in this timeline, at least. 

That would explain it, star supposed. Just because star didn’t need it didn’t mean some part of him didn’t crave it, same as air.

It still sucked, though. And it was embarrassing. Flowey had turned into a glutton in front of stars—in front of the king. Ex-king.

Asgore just sighed and pulled out another plate, though. “Why don’t I whip us both up a proper meal before bed? No take-out.”

Without another word, he pulled out a pot of old soup from a small fridge and started to reheat it on the stove. Flowey watched in silence. 

“I made this a few days ago, but it should still taste good.”

Flowey doubted that, but his stomach was still rumbling. The sweet had opened him up, revealing just how hungry star was, and right now star’d eat anything that could fill him. 

The two waited in silence until the soup was heated. Asgore poured Flowey a bowl.

“Be careful, now, it is still a bit—”

Flowey yelped.

“…hot.”

Flowey fixed him with a glare. He could’ve gotten a WARNING!

…Asgore had given star one. He just hadn’t listened. 

Darn it.

Flowey’s gaze softened, and he looked down.

“Oh dear…”

Asgore took a step to a drawer and pulled out a large jar of sugar. “I have been reading about these ‘life’s hacks’ on the ‘internet’ and I have heard that sugar can make burns hurt less. And the taste certainly does not hurt either.”

Asgore held out a spoon of the stuff. Flowey doubtfully took it.

It… didn’t hurt more.

“Now, isn’t that better?” Asgore winked. “Perhaps we should wait for the soup to cool down, first. Patience is a virtue, or so I have heard.”

Flowey blew on his soup without lifting his eyes.

The room returned to silence. Flowey didn’t feel like talking. What did Asgore even think of star? As far as he knew, a random flower had shown up in his garden and eaten his food. And he was still being so…

“Why are you doing this?”

“I am sorry, I do not think I understand the question—”

“Why are you being so nice to a STRANGER?” Flowey hissed.

“…why should I not? A king must always care for his people—”

“An ex-king. You’re not a king anymore. You have no ‘royal duty.’ You’re doing this as a stranger, TO a stranger!”

Asgore stood up and spoke regally. “Then, I will ask again. Why should I not? Why should I not show kindness to one who is in need? I may not have a perfect memory, or a knack for a name, but I can tell when someone needs help. And I will always help those in need. King or not.”

Flowey looked up with a glare. “You don’t know me! What—what if I was a killer? A serial murderer? Can you seriously say that you’d—”

“Yes.” Asgore stared down at him. For the first time since Flowey had seen him, he looked like a king. “If you were a killer, you would not be the only one in the room who has killed.” Asgore lowered himself from his royal position and bent down until his eyes were level with Flowey’s. “I have done many things in my life that I deeply regret. Even if the cruelest of killers approached my home, I would welcome them in with open arms and a cup of tea. Or perhaps soup, if tea was not to their taste.”

Flowey let out a chuckle at that, even though nothing was really funny. “Just like that. No questions asked.”

“They have gone through enough, have they not?”

“Huh.”

Something throbbed in the corner of Flowey’s eye. Star ignored it best he could.

“Ah! The soup must be cool, now.”

Flowey took a sip. It was still a bit hot, but he could handle it. It wasn’t horrible. A little light on the chicken and vegetables. But really warm.

“I hope I did not go too heavy on the salt.”

“No, it—” Flowey cleared stars throat. The soup must’ve made it stuffy. “It’s good. Fine. I like it.”

Star cast a glance up. Asgore was smiling proudly. “Why, thank you! I got the recipe from the internet! Now, I know we had something similar underground, but this human version is truly something special! So much information, at your fingertips, without needing even a book! Why, the other day…

Asgore continued to ramble. Flowey listened, half-amused. The surface really had changed things… back underground, Asgore had… had…

Flowey lost his train of thought. His eyelids were starting to grow heavy. Vaguely some part of him understood what this meant, but star didn’t feel like processing that right now. He was tired.

He stifled another yawn. Hopefully Asgore wouldn’t—what was he doing.

Asgore stood up and scooped Flowey up. “…nfortunatly… not much space… can make something… blankets…”

“Huh?” Flowey tried to say. It came out as more of a grunt.

He was placed in a large pile of blankets, star thought. He wasn’t sure. Foggy sleep clouded his brain. He tried to protest, but the blankets were so comfortable… and star really was tired. Maybe just a few minutes…

Asgore sat by his side and started to hum. Flowey slept until morning.

How upset do you think Toriel would be if she found Asriel, Kris, and Frisk all eating her pie together in the middle of the night when she explicitly told them not to do that?

Why am I picturing them on the floor, on all fours, gathered around the pie and eating it with their faces? (Yes, that includes Asriel)

Una disculpa por la calidad de imagen y el estilo de los paneles, son algo viejos y perdí el acceso los archivos originales, intenté marcarlos con números para que sea entendible, espero que disfruten.

I figured out what to do with Flowey, you guys.

It was only after finishing that I realized that it would be funny to see Kris in this role (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠)

happy bday you silly cat egg and a happy 13th anniversary to rtdl :>

hello you three! how's it going? are you on the surface? how's chara there? where do you all live? (don't ask why i need to know that one) also how can you hear me? hope you don't mind me asking a lot of questions

(enable sound for this to make sense lol)

Soo... I started this just after i watched uty for the first time, and finnished it now..

its SUPER sketchy but i probably wouldn't be able to complete it if i wanted to make it look cleaner, at least its a cute lil thing that someone might still enjoy~ and good practise

...Ok going back to my hidey hole