I love Funky Animals

I saw a lot of art for a Kris and Noelle weird route swap and i roughly thought up a background for it... though a lot of these are currently based on theories and my own assumptions of Deltarune story, which could age.

In this universe Noelle goes with Dess instead of Kris, haunted by whatever she saw, she becomes part of the plan instead (with carol and/or the roaring knight) and the prophecy here would still be the same, however Noelle out of concern for her friend, not wanting to well curse them with the soul, decides to take responsibility for it instead, becoming The Cage. Of course Carol isn't happy with this, i don't think she would want her daughter to be "cursed" like this, but somehow Noelle convinces her. Noelle becomes more withdrawn and less talkative like Kris in normal deltarune, which affects Kris and some other friends and people.

Kris while still affected by Dess' disappearance, isn't as deeply changed by it, perhaps they keep their silly prankster self. With Noelle distancing from them instead, they are now close friends with Berdly who probably has a different personality. I'm more, uncertain about this? but he may be more confident in his abilities, without having Noelle to "rely on" (as she's more withdrawn, they probably doesn't have study sessions together at all) Berdly may realize that he is smart even without her help and Kris may help him realize its fine to make mistakes and not always be "number 1".

They would become friends with Susie still, a duo of troublemakers. It starts off with Kris sort of fucking around with Susie, with them not really scared of her, surprisingly confident they won't get their face bit off, and then later on become friends who are stupid…together. With Berdly joining in too, i could see Susie and him being friends earlier here.

Ralsei would be confused at the cage being a deer instead of a human but would go on with it as usual, i could see his relationship with Noelle being similar to Kris in main Deltarune, with her warming up to him during an alternate chapter 3 which may be in the Holiday household instead of the Dreemurrs, its going be a big dark world.

Chapter 1 mostly goes the same with a few changes, Chapter 2 would have Berdly working with Queen probably just for Kris protection, maybe an alternate Ferris wheel scene with Kris and Berdly..?.

Chapter 3 would go completely differently, with an alternate more winter-y Dark World set in the holiday residence, though i think the ending would be mostly the same with the roaring knight making an appearance and kidnapping Undyne with Susie and Noelle making chase.

Chapter 4 will be interesting, the search for the bunker codes goes mostly the same here, though they just go back to the holiday residence (along with Kris and Berdly joining in, maybe for a study session). It will harder to hide the guitar.

Now the weird route changes, oh boy. Kris would have more fire focused spells like their mother and father, the iceshock and snowgrave equivalent may leave enemies trapped in ash, like how ash preserved the people of Pompeii. Its mostly an excuse to not have them, turn into dust, mostly cause Berdly would straight up die and that will change too much.

Rosamund hesitated. It was, she had to admit, the first time she had ever been given a wish, so she wasn't an expert with this sort of thing, but she felt that this was not part of the typical script. "Sorry," she said. "Is that not allowed?"

The fairy grimaced. When it spoke, its voice came out pained and stressed. "Y-y-y-e-e-e-no," it sighed at last, dragonfly wings sagging. "No, technically no, it's not not allowed, but-" It suddenly brightened. "How about gold? Can't go wrong with gold. Gold's a good wish."

Rosamund frowned. This was really not going the way she expected at all. "Excuse me-"

"Beauty, that's a good one too, beauty's always popular," it went on. "And if there's a ball nearby tonight I can probably-"

"Excuse me!"

The wand was twiddled in chitinous fingers. "Right," the fairy said, sounding scolded. "Sorry, it's just..." Its voice trailed off.

Her grandmother's clock chimed midnight from the mantelpiece.

Then - "I'm sorry," it said, not daring to look up, "I know it's not fair, but - you know what I am. You know what we do to wishes. If you wished for wealth I'd have to turn your hair into silver, so you’d have to tear every strand out of your head before you could spend it. We can't help it. It's what we do. The cost of a wish is that you get what you want, but you don't get it the easy way.

"So if you wish for a child, it'll be - strange. Twisted, somehow. Made of pine or marzipan or have the head of a hedgehog. That's the cost of a wish-child; you'll get the child you wished for, but it'll never be - right."

Rosamund waited to see if there was anything else. She felt a sting to her pride when she realized there wasn't. "Is that all?" she said. "I wouldn't care what I got-"

"You all say that," the fairy said. "You all say you wouldn't care what you got. You all say it, and you really believe it, until the neighbours sneer at you and your hedgehog child for too long, or your back aches because your thumb-high child can't help you in the fields, or your pine child kicks and bites and won't obey, and then you think, 'This isn't the way it was supposed to be,' and then..."

The fairy stopped and looked into Rosamund’s eyes. It was a beautiful thing, all glittering carapace and iridescent wings, but just for an instant it looked terribly, terribly old.

"So be it," the fairy replies. "You will keep your word."

And in one version of that world, she proves the fairy's fears wrong. She loves her hedgehog, thumb-high, surly pine child with all her heart. The child grows knowing it is wanted and loved. It grows knowing it always has a home, that it belongs.

In another version of that world, Rosamund fails. On the evening she gives up, the fairy finds her. "You promised," it says. In that world, the fairy takes her flesh and blood for the child, crafts it a body that will belong. And Rosamund becomes a soft pine doll, waiting to be loved, waiting to be real.

In this world, in either version, the child grows up happy and belonging.

In another world, the fairy's ancient grief stabs Rosamund deeper than her pride. "Where are these children?" she asks, horrified.

"Many are long-dead," the fairy replies.

"But not all. Take me to them."

"Is that your wish?" the fairy asks.

"If it must be."

In one version of this world, the fairy brings her to a household with a prickly, hedgehog daughter. The girl's mother cries, "How can I love her if I cannot hold her?"

"You were given a gift!" Rosamund roars in this world. "Give her to me if you are too cowardly to love her."

Rosamund takes the daughter and gently holds the girl's hands. "You deserve so much more than you've received."

"Are there more?" Rosamund asks the fairy once the girl has fallen asleep.

"Yes."

"Take me to them."

"You haven't even had this child for one night."

"How can I let those children wait? None of them deserve such pain."

In another version of this world, the fairy refuses. "You do not know what you ask."

"And you don't know what you've begun," Rosamund replies. She leads a crusade to find the fae children, to save them.

She lavishes the children with praise and love, but the story becomes twisted. Such brave children they are, daring to live despite such odd lives.

The thumb-high child will never find a spouse, and yet he remains so cheerful. What an inspiration he is.

In another world, Rosamund says, "Let me prove it to you."

"How?" the fairy challenges.

Rosamund does not hesitate. "Marry me. Let me prove I can love the strange and fae. Let me prove my love is stronger than daydreams and gossip. When you believe me, we will make a child together however you wish."

In one version of this world, the fae says, "No. Choose another wish."

"No," Rosamund replies. And the two remain locked in stalemate and the story never ends.

In another version of this world, the fae sighs. "Is that your wish?"

"No. My wish is unchanged, but I am willing to wait for your approval. I wait for bread to rise and rain to fall. Waiting on you for a child will be no hardship."

"And if I never approve?"

"You will."

And in this version, Rosamund and the fae are wed. Rosamund's friends and family harry her with concern. Her meager wealth dwindles as fewer are willing to buy the bread she bakes for fear of her spouse's enchantments.

"Do you regret this yet?" the fairy asks.

"When I was cold last week, you draped a cloak of cobwebs around my shoulders and I stopped shivering. How could I regret such kindness?"

After a long period without rain and the village drives them both out, the fairy asks again, "do you regret this yet?"

"When we had too little to drink, you collected the dew from every blade of grass around our home so we did not thirst. How could I regret such clever diligence?"

And when Rosamund falls deeply ill after too many nights sleeping exposed to every chilled breeze, the fairy presses its cool brow to her burning one and asks, "how do you not regret this yet?"

Rosamund weakly brushes her fingertips along the fairy's cheek. "You're crying for me. How can I possibly regret being loved by you? I told you my love is greater than hardship."

"This is not how these stories go," the fairy argues.

"I'm human," Rosamund says with a cough. "I twisted it."

In one version of this world where the fairy said "yes" to Rosamund's proposal, she dies, and the fairy collects another regret.

In another version, it carries Rosamund home beneath the hill and heals her. Then, together, they make and raise a child.

I'll slowly go through and dump my twitter drawings here!

A painter is not a bronze sculptor and a bronze sculptor is not a fashion designer and a fashion designer is not a graphic designer and a graphic designer likely doesn’t make stained glass windows and a window maker might not know how to use a drawing tablet.

Certainly some people might master all of these things but most will not. They have some principles in common but a calligrapher will not automatically be good at wax sculpture.

So in the same way a novelist is not necessarily a short story writer and a short story writer isn’t necessarily a poet and a poet isn’t necessarily a screenwriter and a screenwriter isn’t necessarily a songwriter and a songwriter isn’t necessarily good at copywriting and a copywriter isn’t necessarily a journalist and a journalist isn’t necessarily a creative non fiction essayist and a creative non fiction essayist isn’t necessarily a memoir writer and so on and so on.

A person may of course be all of these things at once but that sort of person is few and far between.

Personally I write short stories and poetry. Sometimes I write non fiction essays. I’m learning how to write novels. I used to do some playwriting. I don’t know anything about memoir, songwriting, journalism, commercial copy, smut, translation, etc. and who knows if I’ll ever have need to learn those skills. Hell, my playwriting skills are pretty rusty at this point because I haven’t done that in almost a decade.