"What kind of flavor nice-cream can I get you folks today?"

Frisk glanced at the display. There were so many to choose from! Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, mint, snail… What to choose?

Finally, she committed to a flavor. "Can I have peanut butter nice-cream please?"

The nice-cream man smiled back at her. "Sure thing, kiddo! And how about for you two?" He turned to the other customers at the counter.

"I'll just have regular vanilla," Sans said. He always preferred plain vanilla over any of the other fancy flavors.

The nice-cream man glanced at the flowerpot in San's hands. "Is he going to want anything?"

Flowey grinned back and stared into the nice-cream man's eyes until he was visibly unsettled. "I'll take human-soul flavored nice-cream."

Sans glared at the flower. "Oho, buddy, you're really asking for a hard time, aren'tcha—"

"Well, we have nice-cream flavored with human soul substitute."

Sans gaped at the nice-cream man. Frisk paled, suddenly finding her peanut butter nice-cream not so appetizing.

The man shrugged. "What can I say? I have some customers with very interesting tastes."

Sans sighed. Frisk was visibly upset, and he doubted that staying to finish the nice-cream would help the situation. "I think we should head out. You ready to go, Frisk?"

Frisk nodded and grabbed the hand that wasn't holding Flowey's pot.

Flowey pouted. "Awww! I didn't even get my human-soul-flavored nice-cream! I thought you said this was supposed to be a fun bonding experience!"

"Well, you upset Frisk, so we're going to have to find another fun experience to bond over."


When they came home from visiting the nice-cream stand, Sans had whispered something to Frisk that made her light up. She'd run to her room to get something, and had returned half an hour later with a 'present' for Flowey. He'd hoped that it was something actually useful, like a knife he could stab with or the power of seven human souls so he could take over the world.

Instead, it had been a green and yellow hand-knit…something. He refused to call it a sweater, even though that's what Frisk insisted it was. It more resembled a sock with a hole at the top for his head to fit through, and it didn't even have openings in the sides for him to stick his leaves through. The girl must have been in cahoots with Toriel, creating something so itchy and vile-looking that would humiliate him and prevent him from moving on his own.

It was degrading.

At the moment, Frisk was sticking glittery stars on his pot. Sans was sitting on the couch, grinning as he watched Flowey wallow in misery.

That damned skeleton was sitting back and enjoying his misery.

Flowey wasn't angry at the skeleton for reveling in another's misery. He could understand just how much fun it was to revel in the agony of an enemy. No, he was angry because it was his agony that someone was taking delight in. He was nobody's plaything.

"You filthy hypocrite," Flowey hissed, "You think it's sick that I enjoy inflicting pain on others, but you're just sitting on your bony ass, reveling in my humiliation."

Sans flashed him a smile. "I just think you look cute with that sweater on. Frisk did a good job on it." Frisk glanced over at Sans and beamed.

Flowey's frown deepened. "Do you know what else would be cute? The pile of dust that you're gonna be if you keep smiling at me like that."

Frisk rolled her eyes and continued to decorate the pot.

Flowey smirked at her. "It would also be cute to gouge out your eyes, Frisk, and violently shove them up your—"

"—Okay, Frisk, maybe we can try playing a game with him now? You've done such a great job at giving him a makeover."

Frisk added the last few stickers and nodded.

"Great. You wanna let Papyrus know that Flowey wants to play a game with us?"

She bounded upstairs.

"The only game I want to play is 'break the skeleton'."

"Too bad. We're playing Monopoly."

Flowey didn't bother gracing Sans with a reply.

After a moment or two of silence, they heard someone thundering down the stairs.

"I HEARD WE HAVE A FRIEND-MERGENCY!" Papyrus shouted, holding up a box as if it were a trophy. Frisk followed close behind him. "As a professional friend, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, shall aid in befriending you!"

Flowey glared at the taller skeleton. "You weak-minded simpleton. You really think you can break me to the point where I'll show genuine kindness to you?"

Papyrus barely heard a word Flowey said. He was too busy setting up the game. "The flower seems to be making progress! After all, he is wearing special clothes in preparation for our hang-out! Now, shall we pick our tokens?"

Frisk nodded.

"Alright! I shall be the car! Just like the one I like to drive around in!"

Sans picked up his token of choice and placed the top hat on the starting space.. "Hats off to you, kid," he said, gently nudging Frisk and ignoring Papyrus's groan.

Frisk glanced over the rest of the pieces and picked up the little dog. Papyrus's eyes widened. "HUMAN?! Why do you want to be that HORRIBLE little canine?!"

Frisk's face started to break out into a grin. "It's so doggone adorable."

Sans broke out into laughter. Papyrus glared at him. "SANS! YOU'RE TAINTING THE POOR CHILD WITH YOUR LOVE OF BAD PUNS!"

Frisk looked over at Flowey. "What piece do you want?"

He stared at the remaining pieces. "The cannon. So I can shoot all of you in your stupid faces and—"

"—He can be the thimble," Sans interrupted.

Flowey's face contorted into one of pure rage. "A thimble? A THIMBLE?! WHAT KIND OF A STUPID #$^#$%—"

Sans tossed a nearby blanket on top of the flower, muffling the various obscenities that were coming from him. "Well, I don't know why that triggered such a violent reaction, but maybe Flowey needs to go to time-out for a while?"

Frisk nodded slowly. She'd heard Flowey swear several times in the past, especially during his tantrums. That didn't make it any less rattling when it happened.

Sans carried the flower, still covered with the blanket, back upstairs and into one of the bedrooms, leaving Frisk and Papyrus to process what had happened.

"Well," Papyrus said, after a few moments of listening to the thumping and yelling that was happening upstairs, "I suppose Flowey's situation really is a friend-mergency. What should the next plan of attack be?"

Frisk shrugged half-heartedly. "I don't know. I thought I was making good progress. He complained about the sweater, but he didn't try ripping it to pieces. I don't know why he snapped like that."

Papyrus enveloped the girl in a well-deserved hug. "It's entirely possible he's just sad about something. Sometimes if someone is really sad on the inside, it comes out as anger. That happens to Undyne and Sans sometimes."

Frisk sat there, deep in thought. If that was true, then why was Flowey so sad?

A/N: Hello! So, I decided to add another chapter to this before finals (wish me luck. I'll need it) and I really hope you enjoy it! Thanks for all of you who followed, favorited, and reviewed. I'm really happy that I've made something worth reading. Once again, feel free to leave a review whether you liked it or not, let me know what you liked or didn't like and please send me ideas for puns. I'm absolutely horrible at making them up myself, but I love them too much to not try.

I'm planning on adding another chapter either next weekend or the weekend after, hopefully sooner if I can. The next chapter is going to be a bit more somber than these other chapters, but I'm definitely going to work in a few lighter moments to balance it out.

Also, question of the day: would you try human-soul flavored nice-cream if you knew it was just human-soul substitute?