For Lynx: Flowey Has Fallen // Plant of the Year

"--divide the two and then..."

Frisk bit down at the end of the pencil, scratching their head. This math problem quickly spun from 'passable' to 'highly annoying', by virtue of the two sides just not matching up, no matter how they tried. They groaned and tried a different approaching, faceplanting into the book for better concentration. It was unlikely to work, but it was the thought that counted.

That is, until they heard the front door opening and slamming shut.

The human raised a brow, climbing off the chair to investigate. Toriel and Sans were supposed to be out and they weren't really expecting any visitors. This didn't leave a whole lot of possible suspects. Frisk briefly considered slotting the nearby Broom as a weapon, but decided against it. As the past months have proven to just about everyone, trying to cause even the most minor harm to the well-known Monster Ambassador was a road that led to nowhere, but bad times and oblivion.

"Friiiiiisk!"

The cry made them hurry up just a little, as they could easily recognize the voice. By the time they got to the living room, their suspicions were confirmed, as Flowey frantically clawed his way forward, using conjured vines and leaves to hook and pull himself further. The sight was somewhat alarming, but also highly amusing.

"Good afternoon, Mr. President." Frisk giggled, casually strolling over to the anxious plant.

"This isn't the time, smart-alec." Flowey snapped, only for his annoyed expression to quickly melt into an apologetic smile, ruined by the large beads of sweat. "I mean, Frisk! So nice to see you home!"

Frisk knew this face quite well. He messed up something. He messed up, and now it would be his turn to fix it.

"What did you do this time?" they asked, picking up the pot and monster. It was definitely strange to see him without any guards, presidential adornments or even just a fancier flowerpot. Something must have gone pretty badly.

"It's not my fault!" he grumbled. "They were total bores and rude, too! I just put them in their place!"

"Flowey, this is the third time already." Frisk sighed, palm finding its way to their face. "You can't expect me to keep fixing your mistakes. Even your campaign slogan was 'be responsible for the seeds you sow'."

"It really was better than 'Praise the Plant', don't you think?" Flowey mused, producing a sheepish smile that did nothing to make Frisk look less annoyed. "I know, I know, I messed up, but this is bad, I really need your help this time!"

"LOCATE HIM IMMEDIATELY!"

The loudspeaker and equally loud rumbling from outside made Flowey yelp and retreat almost into the depth of the pot's soil. Frisk carefully inched over to the nearest window and peeked out, only to see tanks and soldiers running about. The strange thing about them wasn't just that they weren't local, but the fact that they seemed to have been assembled from just about every possible nation, spanning across all known continents.

"Okay, I might have said a thing or two that were a bit mean, but it was for the greater good, I swear!" Flowey whimpered, shuddering with a goofy stare under Frisk's terrible gaze.

"Who exactly did you insult again?" Frisk mused, counting all the different uniforms and flags. They managed up to thirty-four, before losing track.

"Just one! I only went off on one of them, really." he claimed, only to start biting on his plant-lips. "Maybe someone else took offense, or something..."

The brightness of the spotlight aimed at them easily overpowered the afternoon sunlight. Frisk reeled back, shielding their eyes, but still making sure to glare at their 'best friend'. "How many?"

"All of them?" the flower sunk lower once again, flashing bright red.

He cried out loudly when the sound of boots reached the door. The enchantments Toriel placed on the entrance to protect Frisk whenever she wasn't home kept the invaders out, but as they brought in the heavy ram, it was only a matter of time before they'd falter.

The child walked back into the middle of the room and sat down, still not saying a single word. They sighed deeply, concentrating for just a brief moment, before the familiar yellow and slightly transparent magical lines appeared before them, forming the words Flowey had been abusing fairly often since he embarked upon his grand master plan.

*LOAD?

"When?" Frisk asked, glancing down at the very frightened, very embarrassed and still very much smiling flower. Smiling was the only thing they could still do, under the accusatory gaze of the human.

"Just one..."

"Week?"

"Month? Or even better, do you have one from last semester?" he asked, voice quickly pitching up to soprano.

Frisk just started at them. If looks could kill, Flowey certainly wouldn't have been dead (since they abhorred murder), but they would have experienced several series of painful, disciplinary petal-flicking. They raised a hand, the LOAD button flashing from activation just as the enchantment finally broke on the doorway.

*Maybe, they could still SAVE something.

*The thought of running a counter-campaign against the up-and-coming President Flowey filled them with DETERMINATION.