But I Knew How To Dress It Up

but I knew how to dress it up

🌪️ tornado - what is the biggest change you've ever made to them? how have they changed from their original version? // for elesa or andy the apple ?? :0

Due to the fact I don't think I've strayed an egregious amount for Elesa & Andy's changes just being more interesting, I'll expand on him!

The most notable change is that Andy is separate from Thomas, his creator possessing him, or more accurately simply embodying him since Andy at his core is by technicality simply code with no true body to inhabit, as long as your looking at it by technicality, of course.

And the second most notable change is that Andy doesn't know Thomas, he inherits little to none of his knowledge of what's truly happening here. Andy only knows that he loves his friends, until they're not his friends, and he can't place when or why they aren't anymore. Andy only knows that he loves the farm, until he feels drawn to dig his hands in something living, rip open meat or dirt to peel back what's underneath but he can never dig deep enough to rip at what something is telling him to peel off the walls, how it's not right. Andy knows the barn until its dark and it's not a barn its a maze and there's a man he doesn't know and he doesn't understand why they've locked him in with a stranger who feels so familiar and so foreign at the same time, a stranger who he doesn't know, a stranger who part of him says he does, a stranger that, for once, he can agree with whatever else keeps telling him otherwise when it says that the stranger scares him.

Andy is unaware as much as he is. Andy doesn't understand. Andy doesn't know if he wants to. Andy doesn't know about ghosts yet, but he's starting to learn. Andy never knew what that inhuman, ghastly fear was like until it rips out his bones and replaces it with something squirming. Andy hears those horrors in the sluggish sloshing of the water in the bottom of the lake and the forests clanging dead branches and the cracking of half-burnt wood under his work-boots that aren't his. Andy's never killed anyone, but he can't stop washing his hands like there's something to get off.

Andy's scared. He can't help you. He's sorry. He's so, so sorry.

character development anon! what are anatoly's three favorite types of flowers?

Anatoly has never really been a flower guy, believe it or not!

Anatoly focuses himself on herbs & edible plants as a whole, which by all means encompasses flowers, but the focus is the food of it, not the flower itself. He sees the rose for the tea, not its petals, in a sense. Though, he’s not completely ignorant to the aesthetic beauty of flowers, he simply prefers other kinds, such as the golden fields of wheat, the bright red shine of lingonberries, or the sturdy cultivation of thick stems from sugar beets all lined in fields.

If he did have to pick, however, he’d probably pick the carpathian snowbell, erysimum hungaricum, and the bird's-eye primrose. He is very fond of buttercups, angel’s trumpets, dandelions and as well bluebells however.

[ umber ] For any deltarune or undertale muse. I can't read your roster on my phone for some reason

[ umber ] for a repressed memory.

Once, Frisk snapped. ━ they snapped like a bungee cord during storage, not during the fall ; less like someone slashed it like people slash tires and more like how a vase only realizes its broken once it hits the ground, and they were. 

It was Gyftmas Eve, and they were throwing a party at the capital. It was the 2nd year they were staying with Asgore after saying they wouldn’t be leaving, that the decision could be put off for a time. ( “ delay the execution, won’t you? for right this moment, it doesn’t have to happen. not here. not now. ” ) Asgore had relented to the groups begging to do so, after a while, and everything had been set up. streamers & lights hanging from the walls, gifts laid out on a table, even snow had been exported from Snowdin to make it feel more festive. 

They remember having fun, talking to people and friends as they helped hand out gifts, drinks & food on a platter. They don’t remember the conversation changing to Chara & Asriel. They don’t remember the way it twisted their guts like a punch in the stomach with a specific kind of upset bitter anger. They don’t remember it leading them to fumble on their own feet ( or were they tripped? ) hard enough that they dropped a platter of drinks, it crashing to the floor and them crashing with it shortly after. 

They don’t remember how a large piece of glass gouged their hand so badly they were half certain they couldn’t move their fingers. They don’t remember the upset whirlwind building, a spiral within a spiral turning a strong wind into a hurricane in 2 minutes flat. They don’t remember frantically excusing themselves with a wide-eyed buzzing flickery gaze that jumped from person to person, a crooked smile on their face, tears already beginning to rush to their eyes even if they didn’t notice it yet. They don’t remember the commotion, the clamor to help & find out what happened, or themselves rushing to the bathroom and locking themselves inside. 

They don’t remember spiraling inside that bathroom. They don’t remember Asgore, or Sans, or Papyrus, or Alphys, or Undyne, or anyone calling out to them, frantic and worried. They don’t remember the way they screamed, overwhelmed, to stop. They don’t remember they rambled about things they shouldn’t know, that they couldn’t tell them, drowning in a pin-trigger of a season’s death they were never a part of but always compared to. They don’t remember dissolving into sobs, refusing to unlock the door, their friends desperation rising. 

They don’t remember Asgore breaking down the door. cracking it as wood splintered, terrified in that one, split moment, and how they suddenly couldn’t tell his kindness from his violence, and how they became the terrified stray dog more than they were the kindly human, too much teeth in a mouth too small and eyes too wide to see anything but their own death. They don’t remember how-

...They only remember waking up again, in that golden flower patch, with a migraine, and those 2 years gone in one night. They don’t remember resetting, or the means they went to achieve it, but they remember waking up alone, --- with nothing but dread in the pit of their stomach, and a cold, cold feeling. You called, but no one came.

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄    (a  series  of  nonverbal  prompts .    ‘ my ’ muse  belongs  to  the  one who  posted  the  meme  -  send   “ + REVERSE ”   to  reverse  the  prompts .)

→     𝐈 .    GENERAL

❛   hush .   raise  a  finger  in  a  gesture  to  silence  my  muse . ❛   sit .  gesture  for  my  muse  to  sit  down . ❛   door .   hold  a  door  open  for  my  muse . ❛   tap .   tap  my  muse  on  the  shoulder  to  garner  their  attention . ❛   hunger .   give  my  muse  something  to  eat  /  drink . ❛   cook .   present  my  muse  with  home - cooked  food . ❛   brush .   work  a  brush  /  comb  through  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   read .   silently  read  a  book  alongside  my  muse . ❛   hand .   hold  out  a  hand  for  my  muse  to  take . ❛   dressed .   help  my  muse  put  on  an  article  of  clothing . ❛   note .   give  my  muse  a  note  saying :   [ content ] . ❛   amplify .   turn  up  the  music  in  the  car .

→     𝐈𝐈 .    ANGST

❛   patch .   help  my  muse  patch  up  a  wound . ❛   night terrors .   hold  my  muse  after  they  wake  up  from  a  nightmare . ❛   company .   silently  sit  with  my  muse  to  comfort  them. ❛   hospital .   my  muse  is  told  that  yours  is  in  the  hospital . ❛   revelation .   show  my  muse  evidence  of  a  lie  they  told . ❛   indulge .   find  my  muse  drinking  to  cope . ❛   downfall .   find  my  muse  collapsed  on  the  ground . ❛   console .   comfort  my  muse  as  they  cry . ❛   nurse .   give  my  muse  company  in  the  hospital .

→     𝐈𝐈𝐈 .    AFFECTIONATE

❛   wink .   wink  at  my  muse . ❛   wrap .   wrap  an  arm  around  my  muse’s  [ shoulders  /  waist ] . ❛   caress .   gently  caress  my  muse’s  face . ❛   tousle .   mess  playfully  with  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   chest .   place  your  head  on  my  muse’s  chest .   ❛   comb .   comb  fingers  through  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   grasp .   run  to  my  muse  &  jump  into  their  arms . ❛   lean .   lean  on  my  muse’s  shoulder . ❛   tender .   kiss  my  muse  on  the  [ forehead  /  cheek  /  nose ] . ❛   abrupt .   kiss  my  muse  out  of  the  blue . ❛   chaste .   chastely  kiss  my  muse . ❛   good morning .   kiss  my  muse  the  morning  after . ❛   volumes .   gaze  at  my  muse  in  a  way  that  silently  says  ‘i love you’ .

→    𝐈𝐕 .    VIOLENT

❛   strike .   [ slap / punch ]  my muse in the face . ❛   gun .   wield  a  gun  at  my  muse . ❛   twist .   twist  my  muse’s  arm  behind  their  back . ❛   throttle .   aggressively  wrap  your  hands  around  my  muse’s  throat . ❛   parch .   burn  my  muse  with  a  hot  object . ❛   take down .   forcefully  bring  my  muse  to  the  ground . ❛   gouge .   wield  a  sharp  object  at  my  muse . ❛  shunt .   shove  my  muse  backwards . ❛  stickup .   yell  at  my  muse  to  put  their  hands  in  the  air. ❛  shoot .   [ fatally  /  non-fatally ]   shoot  my  muse . ❛  stab .   stab  my  muse with a  [ knife / other object ].