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cuilective · 5 years

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RULES: REPOST, DON’T REBLOG. JUST PICK A MUSE OF YOURS AND FILL IT OUT.

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MUSE: Lester Merriton

BASICS

▸ IS YOUR MUSE TALL/SHORT/AVERAGE?

Tall, definitely. Used to be even an inch or so taller before the explosion.

▸ ARE THEY OKAY WITH THEIR HEIGHT?

For the most part. He can reach things others can’t, but he’s doomed to be the big spoon forever unless he finds someone who’ll settle for backpacking. Could be worse.

▸ WHAT’S THEIR HAIR LIKE?

When he’s staying on top of self care, I’d say it’s... pretty average? nothing super soft but at least it’s clean. probably smells like some generic Manly Scented Shampoo For Men like woodsmoke or gym shower jungle juice or whatever the heck it is guys have to wear instead of fruity floral goodness. or just the OG old spice, that seems pretty lester to me.

▸ DO THEY SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THEIR HAIR/WITH THEIR GROOMING?

The least amount of time possible while still getting everything done. He’d rather be doing just about anything else than like... brushing his hair. soaking in the tub. hell even a nap would be more entertaining.

▸ DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE?

He does, which is probably one of the only things to really motivate him to take care of himself.

▸ DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT WHAT OTHERS THINK ABOUT THEM?

More than he lets on, definitely more than he’ll ever admit. He bottles it up pretty well but if he feels like he made a bad impression on someone it might bother him for a while.

PREFERENCES

▸ INDOORS OR OUTDOORS?

Indoooors

▸ RAIN OR SUNSHINE?

Rain. Nothing better than working by a window listening to the rain pitter patter against the glass. It’s the best white noise to fill the silence so he can focus on something other than his grumpy brain noises.

▸ FOREST OR BEACH?

Neither, but if he had to choose it’d be forest. You know how hard it is to get sand out of all the nooks n crannies of prosthetics? Ain’t nobody got time for that.

▸ PRECIOUS METALS OR GEMS?

Metals for sure, precious or not. Way more practical uses and still looks good.

▸ FLOWERS OR PERFUMES?

Ehhhhh, maybe flowers? At least it’d be less overwhelming than straight up perfume.

▸ PERSONALITY OR APPEARANCE?

He’d say both, but honestly??? Appearance.

▸ BEING ALONE OR BEING IN A CROWD?

Alone, definitely. Or at least being alone with someone else or a very small group of friends, even if they’re just sitting around in the same room but not actually interacting.

▸ ORDER OR ANARCHY?

Ornarchy. Anorder. Uh. Uhhhhh. Order?

▸ PAINFUL TRUTHS OR WHITE LIES?

Well he dishes out both fairly often. It’s hard to tell when he’s being brutally honest because he genuinely cares or just feels like being a jerk.

▸ SCIENCE OR MAGIC?

Science all the way every day

▸ PEACE OR CONFLICT?

He’d say he prefers peace but ultimately conflict is what he’s most familiar with. It’s practically his comfort zone.

▸ NIGHT OR DAY?

Night, for sure.

▸ DUSK OR DAWN?

Dawn, sort of. Nothing like staying up so late you can watch the sunrise... and then go right to sleep.

▸ WARMTH OR COLD?

Warmth. Warm drinks, warm clothes, warm touches. Even just all the computers buzzing away in his lab working like little space heaters to toast up the whole room a few degrees.

▸ MANY ACQUAINTANCES OR A FEW CLOSE FRIENDS?

He’d sure like to have a few close friends but they keep like, exploding or falling into other dimensions and he just cant take that kind of abandonment anymore.

▸ READING OR PLAYING A GAME?

Playing a game. He reads enough for work, it’s nice to do something less mentally taxing. Fun colors and shapes, puzzles, whatever. Really likes word cross apps on his phone.

QUESTIONNAIRE

▸ WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR MUSE’S BAD HABITS?

Entirely too sarcastic at all times, even with people he doesn’t actively dislike. It’s a roast or be roasted world out there.

▸ HAS YOUR MUSE LOST ANYONE CLOSE TO THEM? HOW HAS IT AFFECTED THEM?

Bit complicated. He wasn’t close to his parents. He became more distant from his younger brother for some time before the explosion that killed him. His relationship with Freddy was always rather complicated, but when he and his wife and daughter vanished it affected Lester more than he realized. He began to more actively isolate himself, more sarcastic, and in general puts no effort into friendships because he feels it’ll just be a wasted investment anyway. The hardest thing for him though was after he recovered from the explosion and could live on his own again and finding out Frederick Senior McJerklord essentially abandoned Lester’s nephew in the middle of who-knows-where with a grumpy giraffe because he didn’t want to raise a Merriton since they’re all competition anyway.

▸ WHAT ARE SOME FOND MEMORIES YOUR MUSE HAS?

He’s not much of a hugger himself but he can probably remember when and where he ever experienced each hug he’s ever had and treasures each one. Bruh just wants 2 be held, man.

▸ IS IT EASY FOR YOUR MUSE TO KILL?

Kill the mood? Sure. Kill a living being? It’d be pretty tough. There is one instance he might be able to kill and get through it without having a mental and moral breakdown, but he tries not to think about it too much or he might start making plans.

▸ WHAT’S IT LIKE WHEN YOUR MUSE BREAKS DOWN?

It’s eerily quiet. Like you know how snow absorbs all the sound in the universe??? It’s kind of like that except the silence isn’t peaceful at all it’s just like sheer unease. Like the silence of a morgue. He avoids eye contact bc honestly if people can see his eyes at times like that they’d start asking concerned questions that he just can’t answer without risking falling apart. he’s a silent, angry crier the rare occasions he does cry. could be quietly going about his business and keeps accidentally breaking things bc he is just full of smadness.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE CAPABLE OF TRUSTING SOMEONE WITH THEIR LIFE?

he can’t even trust himself with his life, let alone someone else.

▸ WHAT’S YOUR MUSE LIKE WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE?

Still sarcastic, but in a much sappier way. If anything the roasting will just get worse, but in return you get glimpses of those itty bitty smiles and airy chuckles. He gets marginally more touchy-feely; a hand on the shoulder, sitting a smidge closer than usual, just wanting to be closer in general. may or may not bluntly admit to wanting more spicy contact when least expected. like ur just tryna go grocery shopping and yall be lookin at the tomatoes n he just stares at a tomato in his hand w a straight face like ‘once we’re back home we should smash’ all nonchalantly except not in those words exactly because i dont want to get any more gross bots following me

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tagged by: @streetsteel

tagging: hmmmmmmm.... whoever wants to and hasnt yet?? idk man go bonkers

#Lester || HC #Dash Meme

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huphilpuffs · 5 years

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flares

chapter: 25/? summary: Dan’s body has been broken for as long as he can remember, and he’s long since learned to deal with it. Sort of. But when his symptoms force him to leave uni and move into a new flat with a stranger named Phil, he finds that ignoring the pain isn’t the way to make himself happy. word count: 3065 rating: mature warnings: chronic illness, chronic pain, medicine a/n: a huge thanks goes to @obsessivelymoody for beta reading this for me!

Ao3 link || read from beginning

Dan wakes up on Thursday to a heaviness in his chest.

He groans before he even opens his eyes. His face is squished against a pillow, his ribs pressed too harshly against the mattress. Stabs of pain burst between them, make his muscles spasm and send his breath escaping in a stutter. He has to count, one, two, three, four to keep it from happening a second time.

It eases some when he rolls onto his back.

And he tries to comfort himself further by counting out how long it’s been since he’s been able to sleep on his stomach. Too long, probably.

He’s been getting better, though. Even staring at the bedroom ceiling through his tears, Dan knows that. Knows the he’s helped Phil with dinner the last few nights, and managed to handle the curtains being open for a few hours yesterday.

His hand smoothes across his sternum, and he pokes at the painful spots in his sides until the sharpness dulls.

It’s enough to let Dan sit up, then stand on shaky knees. He tosses Phil’s pillow back to where it belongs and tucks the duvet into place to prove the voice in his head, wondering why he’s suddenly worse again, that he’s fine.

And to ignore the second voice, telling him it’s anxiety that causes your pain, over and over again.

His appointment is in a day.

Dan’s hardly slept for three.

He tries to swallow back a sigh. Whatever rush of adrenaline had dragged him out of bed has faded, left fatigue settling heavy in his bones again. He could drag himself to the lounge, curl up in his blankets and continue his new daily routine of watching people on YouTube for hours.

But his body aches and his eyes burn, and he crawls back into bed instead.

The voice in his head grows louder.

Dan grabs Phil’s pillow, clutches it ot his chest and presses his face against the fabric, breathing deeply.

It smells like Phil.

He holds it until he falls back asleep.

---

The afternoon drags.

It’s past two when Dan wakes up again. The flat is still empty, the bed unmade again. He crawls out without bothering to fix it, makes himself a sandwich, and settles back on the sofa, where he can rest his head against the cushions and ignore the tightness around his heart.

Every time he turns on his phone, it’s too a notification reminding him he has an appointment tomorrow that has his muscles seizing, making it ache to breathe.

And to a reminder he half regrets setting, since he’s ignored it for days.

Call mum.

There’s only a few hours to follow through with it now.

He glances back at the clock that tells him it’s just ticking past three. Twenty-five hours left, says the voice in his head. It sounds like the last GP he saw, who looked him in the eyes and told him to try acting like he had more energy, who told him it would help.

You should try it, his mum had said afterwards. You never know unless you do.

Dan’s thumb swipes across the screen. He finds her contact, sucks in a breath, and hits the call button.

He doesn’t breathe again until she picks up on the third ring.

“Hi, Dan,” she says.

He hasn’t heard her voice since he decided to stay here. It feels like a lifetime ago, suddenly.

“Hi, mum.”

There’s silence for a long moment. He can hear her breathing over the line, low and steady, and wonders if she can hear the shakiness in his.

“How are you?” she asks

“I’m okay,” he says. “I, uh, have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

“Oh?”

He swallows, nodding even though she can’t see him. “Just with my new GP, but I’m hoping he might be able to help me,” he says. “With, well, you know.”

“I hope he can.”

She sounds sad. It’s been a long time since Dan’s heard that.

“Me too,” he says. And then, because he can’t handle the silence: “But, uh, I was hoping you could maybe help me figure out my medical history, to prepare? I don’t remember all of it from when I first got sick.”

Back when she was responsible for it, he doesn’t say. Back when anyone could keep track of all of it.

“I’ll text it to you, okay?” she says. “I know your memory isn’t always the best, and your wrists tend to ache from writing.”

“Really?” He slams his mouth shut, the click of his teeth probably audible over the phone. “I mean, thanks.”

She chuckles, quiet, distant, like he can hear the miles between them. “I’m not always heartless, you know,” she says.

Dan’s breath comes out in a rush. Guilt bursts in its place, painful, bringing tears to his eyes. And he wants to tell her he never thought she was, but he can’t. She knows he can’t. He doesn’t even know what he thinks about her now, crying, hands shaking as he clutches his phone too tightly.

“Can I ask you something?” she says. “Without you getting mad?”

“Yeah.”

“How are you doing?” she says. “I know you don’t think your problems are with your mental health, and I’m not implying they are–” the not this time goes unspoken “–but I know you’ve had bad experiences with doctors and you’re my son.”

His breath catches. A tear rolls down his cheek, and he wipes it away with his hand.

This is his first appointment without her, he realizes. The first one in six years that she’s not driving him to, waiting outside or sitting next to him for the length of it. The first time she won’t smooth his hand over his knee in the waiting room, telling him it’ll be okay, that doctors can be trusted, even though they’d been proving otherwise for so long.

“I’m okay,” he says. “Phil’s coming with me.”

“That’s good,” she says, like she means it. “I am glad you have him, you know.”

He almost reminds her what she thought of him living with Phil last time they spoke, but his heart aches and his eyes are stinging and he doesn’t want to fight, not this time.

“Me too,” he says. “He’s the best, mum.”

She sounds like she’s smiling when she says: “I’d love to meet him, one day.”

Dan swallows. He can hardly picture it, bringing Phil back to a house filled with terrible memories and people he still doesn’t trust entirely. And yet there’s a tug in his chest, a bittersweet image forming in the back of his mind.

He doesn’t say anything.

Neither does she, for a while.

“I should get going,” is what she ends up saying. “As long as you’re okay? I’ll text you your medical information in a little bit.”

“Okay,” he says. “I’m okay. Thank you.”

She hums. “And Dan?”

“Yeah?”

“You should call your grandma. She misses her sofa buddy.”

He chuckles. It aches. Suddenly, he’s exhausted again. “Okay. I will,” he promises. “And mum?”

“Yeah?”

“No news is good news, okay? If I don’t call you after the appointment, I mean.”

“Okay,” she says. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

The line goes dead.

His head falls back against the cushion and his phone drops onto the sofa. Tears are rolling down his cheeks, and he’s not entirely sure he knows why.

Or maybe he just can’t untangle all the many, many reasons.

---

Phil’s quiet when he gets home.

He takes the smoothie Dan didn’t touch and sets it on the coffee table before dropping onto the empty cushion. His arm is draped across the back of the cushion, his hip just inches from Dan’s, as he turns his gaze to the open laptop, lit up with another Smosh video.

Dan’s been watching them mindlessly since his tears dried on his cheeks.

“This is a good one,” says Phil.

It’s an older one, the production value a little cheaper and humour a tad outdated. Probably more similar to what Phil had watched back at uni, Dan thinks. He tries to imagine it, a younger version of Phil, one with longer hair and a slightly narrower frame, sitting in a uni room like the one Dan moved out of before coming here.

He hardly can. Maybe because his mind is still muddled, hanging onto words he said during the phone call, onto all the things he should have said but didn’t.

“It is,” he says, just as the video ends.

He doesn’t start a new one.

Phil’s fingers sweep across his shoulder. In Dan’s peripheral, he can see Phil turn to look at him, but he doesn’t look back.

“Are you okay?” asks Phil.

Dan swallows. There’s a lump in his throat, a pressure behind his eyes so harsh it aches.

“Didn’t sleep very well,” he says.

Phil squeezes his shoulder. “I know.”

That makes the corner of his mouth quirk up. Of course Phil knows. He was there, arms wrapped around Dan as he fidgeted, tossed, and turned. His hands had combed through Dan’s hair, and his quiet questions about if Dan was okay were mumbled against his shoulder, his reassurance felt in his touch.

Phil usually falls asleep pretty quickly, Dan’s learned. Last night, he didn’t.

The hand at his shoulder tightens. Dan finally turns to face Phil.

“Is that all that’s bothering you?”

His eyes are soft, almost sad, as his hand rubs gentle circles against Dan’s skin. He knows. He must know something’s up. Dan has to remind himself that Phil’s seen him after countless sleepless nights, curled up in soft blankets on the sofa and dozing when his mind gets too tired to keep racing.

Today isn’t like that.

Dan reaches out to rest a hand on Phil’s knee, needing to feel grounded, as the first tear rolls down his cheek. Phil draws him closer, so Dan’s head is by his shoulder, his tears dripping down onto the fabric of Phil’s shirt.

There’s no pressure, none but the weight of Phil’s hand on his shoulder, when Dan says:

“I called my mum.”

Phil goes tense. “Oh,” he say. “How did that go?”

Dan swallows. “I don’t know.”

He really doesn’t. His chest feels too full with contradictions, the weight of past accusations crashing up against her understanding tone and he doesn’t know what to think anymore. He’s never been sure how to exist around her, not since pain first settled in his bones and she told him it was growing pains, it would pass, it would get better.

And it never did.

“I haven’t talked to her since I told her I was staying in Manchester,” he says, maybe as an afterthought, maybe because it’s felt heavy on his shoulders since he answered the phone.

“Was she nicer this time?”

He nods. Another tear falls. “She’s texting me my medical history,” says Dan. “She offered, because she– she knew I had trouble writing and remembering.”

Phil hums. His breath has gone even again. His mouth is close to the top of Dan’s head. He sounds hesitant when he speaks. “It sounds like she cares.”

Dan feels that, sharp and painful in his gut. Another tear rolls down his cheek, and his breath catches, and Phil holds him tighter like he’s scared Dan will fall apart.

Maybe he will.

It’s been so long,

He’s been so that sure she doesn’t actually care.

Now, he doesn’t know what to think.

---

His mum texts him.

Dan almost cries. His teeth dig into his lip and his ribs ache and he stares, wide-eyed, at the list of diagnoses and unexplained symptoms he’s had over the years. There’s the migraines they never treated at the beginning, the lightheadedness it took them four years to explain, the instructions to do more exercise that dot the whole six years that he’s been ill.

The first time he went to therapy, and the antidepressants they put him on, and the second time he went to therapy.

And every time he told his doctor he was still sick after that.

Phil’s hand lands on his wrist, gently pushing the phone from Dan’s line of sight. His voice is barely a whisper when he says: “Are you okay?”

Dan swallows. His throat aches.

Laid out like this, it doesn’t look that bad, a distant voice in his head that’s haunted him for too long tries to remind him that maybe he’s just making it all up. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. But Dan can remember the A&E doctor who turned him away because it was growing pains. Can remember the so many times his blood pressure was low before anyone bothered to point it out.

The time his doctor looked at him and said–

“Can we do something?” says Dan. “I want to– I need a distraction.”

Phil nods. In Dan’s peripheral, his phone screen goes black. The knot in his chest loosens, just a bit.

“Wanna play video games?” says Phil.

He shakes his head. “Wanna go out. It’s been too long.”

Phil’s brows furrow, like he’s about to point out that there’s a reason it’s been so long, about to warn Dan that he doesn’t want to make himself sick before such an important day.

Except part of Dan does. He’s done it before, forced himself to be in pain because maybe that way the doctors would actually see that he wasn’t lying. Not that it’s ever worked.

“Please?” he says.

Phil squeezes his wrist. “Okay.” His thumb drifts across Dan’s, careful and comforting. “Where do you want to go?”

---

Dan squeezes into his skinny jeans, even though the fabric burns his legs. He pulls a shirt over his head for what feels like the first time in forever. Though his knees are shaky, he bends down to tie his own laces, as Phil watches from where he’s leaning against the door.

“Are you sure about this?”

He reaches out, without a word, to help Dan stand again.

“I’m sure,” says Dan. “And don’t worry, you won’t need to take me to A&E this time.”

The corner of Phil’s mouth quirks up, and Dan knows he’s forcing it. He can feel his worry in the too-tight clench of Phil’s hand around his, the way his gaze trips over Dan legs when he wobbles as he stands.

He squeezes Phil’s fingers, forcing a smile of his own, as he opens the door.

It’s warm outside. The sky’s going purple as the sun sinks below the city. Dan realizes, staring up at it, that he hasn’t left the flat since he trip to A&E, hasn’t enjoyed being outside in far too long.

If his joints would let him, he’d suggest they walk around a bit. Instead, he stares up at the clouds and reminds himself to spend more evenings, when the sun won’t burn his eyes, on their little balcony, just to feel the wind against his cheeks again.

Phil tugs on his hand when the cab pulls up in front of them. They pile in, side by side in the back seat. Dan doesn’t put on his seatbelt. He can’t be bothered to deal with the harsh rub of fabric against his ribs.

His chest is still tight, the quiet buzz of anxiety at the back of his mind growing louder. He can still feel his phone, heavy in his pocket, can still imagine the text he hasn’t yet responded to. He can remember their last movie night, laughing and gasping and falling asleep with Phil’s hands trying to massage the pain away.

They hadn’t even gone out last time.

Dan stares out the window and hopes he can keep his promise that it’ll be okay this time.

They slip out of the car at the cinema. Phil pays the driver. Dan leans against the wall as he waits, wondering if the lines inside are long. It’s been so long since he’s been to the cinema, he can hardly imagine it anymore. The screens usually hurt his eyes and the audio gives him a headache and he doesn’t care today.

“You okay?”

Phil’s smiling at him, standing by the door. He holds it open for Dan, and buys their tickets for a random comedy neither of them particularly wanted to see. He lets Dan go find a seat as he buys them popcorn, soda, and a chocolate bar to share. He hands it over, in the darkness of the theatre, with a smile.

Between them, their knees bump together as the film starts.

---

They’re holding hands when it ends.

Dan’s eyes are starting to burn and his chest aches from laughing, but the voices in his head have dulled just enough that he can breathe a little easier. He doesn’t think about the appointment he needs to show up to tomorrow, or the doctor he hasn’t met yet who might dash his hopes all over again.

He stares at their joined hands as the cinema empties, smiling.

“You ready to go home?” says Phil.

Dan shrugs. He probably should give his spine a break by sinking into the sofa again, close his eyes against the bright lights of the city before a headache wells in his temples. But he doesn’t want to sit in the dark and wait until tomorrow, letting his fears return.

“Can we get pizza?”

“You up to walk?”

He nods. Phil helps him to his feet and leads him out of the cinema. He knows Manchester better than Dan does, and tells a story about coming to watch movies with Ian when he was younger as they find the nearest pizza place. Dan listens, maybe more attentively than he needs to, to keep his mind from going hazy as the city moves around him.

There’s still a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Dan wonders if him of a few years ago would have believed that he’d end up here.

The restaurant they end up in is small and quiet, and they slide into a booth in the corner of the room. Dan sinks back against the cushion, realizing that Phil’s smiling, too.

His chest feels warm. His fingers twist in the tablecloth, because part of him misses holding Phil’s hand.

“Thanks for tonight,” says Dan. “I had fun.”

Under the table, Phil knocks their feet together.

“I did too,” he says.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #flares #callie writes words #sorry I haven't been online much #turns out when irl is going either better or worse than just fine i don't find much tumblr time

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drundertalescum · 6 years

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What's your hc age for the undertale characters?

Good question!

I like to think monster ages range differently than human age ranges, so technically certain types of monsters might have different rates, but for the most part those don’t effect my main cast headcanons.

Frisk

8-12 range. I don’t know a ton about child development milestones or whatever (and those aren’t always reliable), but I feel like Frisk’s age needs to be one where they’ll be more easily held accountable for their actions and choices. Judging from my cousins and my memories of that age, I think 8 is roughly where you start to understand your choices and the effects they can have on the world around you outside of an immediate effect, and it’s important to me that Frisk has that ability. No cinnamon rolls who didn’t know what they were doing aboard my headcanon.

I like 10 for them.

Toriel and Asgore

Old. Real old. I always imagined Toriel being slightly older than Asgore, but I don’t really have a reason for it, and I don’t really think that means much when it comes to adult boss monsters. I have a lot of vague headcanons for them, but basically I see them as their equivalent of young adults during the war, and then quite a while passed before they made the decision to have a child.

I imagine they’re in their equivalents of their late 30s since Asriel’s death stopped the clock for both of them. They probably feel their actual age most days, though.

Sans

Old enough to have reasonably had a career that required the amount of schooling required for him to receive a masters degree (heh heh comic sans ms heh heh heh), though I personally headcanon that the Underground isn’t really the best at enforcing standards on education and science, especially after Toriel fled, so maybe that doesn’t mean much.

25-35, maybe older. Old enough to be tired, worn, burnt out, and find himself at the edge of the other side of it, contemplating contentment, but not quite reaching it yet. I have trouble seeing him as any younger than that. Sans seems like someone who’s had a lot of lived adult experience, but I also think he’s sharp enough that he could be ahead of the curve, which is why I don’t see him as too much older, no matter how much he reminds me of my 60 year old uncle.

Papyrus

Everything about Papyrus screams early 20s to me. 19-25.

Papyrus strikes me as someone who’s possibly brilliant and definitely ambitious, but hasn’t had a lot going in his life so far for him to really be proud of. He’s still looking for his niche in the world. That doesn’t necessarily mean he has NO adult life experience, but I don’t think he’s ever had the sort of happiness it’s implied Sans had and lost. I think if he had a career before Snowdin, it was ultimately not as fulfilling for him. (my silly Illiterate Papyrus AU is a semi-serious/semi-crackfic take on Papyrus having an unfulfilling career before Snowdin) Either way, I think Papyrus is probably more ambitious and also more directionless than Sans ever was.

I also don’t think he’s a teenager. If he was, I think he would have at least tried to hang out with the teenagers in the woods, and he definitely couldn’t have been less popular than Jerry if he did. I love him as this awkward lonely boy but theres limits to how much angst one skeleton can have lobbed at him and that limit is having less friends than Jerry.

I like the idea of him being 20, with UT taking place in 2115 (100 year after the game’s release and 100 years after the first human falls), and CoolSkeleton95 being a hint to his birth year. That’s not definitive at all. I just like it.

(Also, there’s just enough of an overlap on the age ranges of Sans and Papyrus to let me have my twins headcanon.)

Undyne

Mid 20s. Going along with the username thing, I like StongFish91 here as 24.

I think Undyne’s got a lot of optimism and determination and spark that make the most sense to me as a young commander who has been training most of her life for this, but is still fairly inexperienced. Her impatience is a big part of it. She’s READY for a war, and she hasn’t been waiting for one. She hero worships veterans nstead of seeing herself somewhat on her level, and a lot of her references are to childhood instead of earlier adulthood, which feels a lot like someone who’s just taken the reigns and is freaking HYPED about it, but it hasn’t fully sunken in. I can also imagine that the decision to not let Papyrus in the guard is the first real decision she’s had to make in her career as a leader, and she doesn’t know how to handle that without lying and putting it off. It also fits with her pride at the torch being passed to her as a trainer and a teacher from Asgore.

So I think she’s young and inexperienced, which isn’t to say she’s a bad fit for the job. I don’t think anyone wants everyone to see the sun more than Undyne, and it also makes a lot of sense to me that Asgore would meet and train Undyne after he’d already killed the other humans (which informs his attachment to her, as a child who managed to beat him up as well as Undyne not really thinking about the weight killing the humans must be on Asgore).

I also think that Asgore would choose a younger, hopeful, idealistic person to a position of power over an older, more experienced monster. He cares more about instilling hope than anything else, and Undyne's got that in spades. A young leader to revitalize their hope is very Asgore’s MO.

Alphys

I have no idea, honestly.

18-40, OR potentially the one monster that doesn’t age at the same rate as the other non-oss-monsters in the main cast.

A lot of Alphys’s personality feels like someone who’s a little older than the others. I can see her as an anxious woman in her early 30s or late 20s who hasnt had much going on and is kind of floundering under the weight of responsibilities she wasn’t used to before that she thought she would be ready for.

There’s hints she could be younger but I guess I read her as someone who’s struggled off and on with untreated anxiety and depression, who started to find herself again, and got saddled with the weight of a job and a mistake she didn’t have the support or coping mechanisms to deal with.

I dunno, I’m the least sure about this one, so I kinda like giving her the non-standard aging if i’m going to give it to anyone.

And that’s about it. I don’t have anything solid for anyone else.

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edmartinsta · 4 years

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Nice To Think I’m Still On Here

Woah has life changed since this. Tumblr is my first place I ever published anything and posted anything before Facebook and Twitter were even a thing for me. I cant tell you how excited I am to know that from here on out I can log in and continue something special to my heart. My posts are a little here and there so I hope I dont scare you away or weird you out or make it boring. From this moment I’ll try to continue my content through here where I know only one person will actually know to find me and no one else haha. To those that may not know me so well I used to be a music blog where I would talk about so much stuff until I realized I wanted to make a website. This was more of a private thing and actually more public than it is now with Tumblr’s popularity back in 2010ish when everyone I thought was cool owned a Tumblr. I guess I can’t blame them I left for a long time this and fell off hard even though I probably could have done something pretty cool with it by now or used it to help me on my other things.

Little update: I left high school in 2013 so not much after the music posts I remember stopping this and maybe continuing it here and there, After there I went to community college where I ended up making lost of memories which im sure I’ll have plenty of time reminiscing with you guys, I then moved to Chicago to follow my dreams as a designer and stayed out there for about four years. Was amazing and could have been better if I planned better and actually could get a job out there that was laidback as I was a pretty tardy asshole to my employers. I wasnt late by hours but I was late often and if that didnt get me fired I would simply quit and never show my face there again. It was a mess, I was a mess, everything was fucked up but everything was also new and fascinating. I dont regret any of it. Now its been years since college and sadly I never finished with a semester remaining. That was a terrible day for my mother I could see she wanted to yell and cry because I told her I got expelled basically from art school for flunking. Man that was a terrible situation I tried to tell people I really tried my best was just a reckless kid who could never get any sleep and was always thinking of what to do and not doing the stuff. Ugh I get upset just thinking about it. So much time wasted. But I suppose I at least realize it now....also that I still dont regret it, it shapes us these failures. im 25 now and soon to be 26 and honestly I’m scared shitless. I feel like i never saved anything, never built credit, havent gone on a date in years, havent gone to eat with friends more than five times in six years, have broken almost everything I own in some sort of way. i dont eat correctly all the time, i dont exercise to keep the figure i used to have less than two years ago. I started college senior year of high school and somehow still screwed up the process and fell behind over and over again and even got screwed by the education system and now have tons of debt which im barely getting out of because of my amazing mom who is also the most toxic person in my life. Man........i know I look bad i know i suck.....im not perfect in any way.....I lost my way..........I know my way back and what I gotta do but........that time ill never get back. Ive never had a stable job in my life for god sake. Ugh I hope I dont come off as a failure I feel it completely but I dont want to be one. I have done so much in my life and met amazing people that honestly makes it all worth something but damn my heart........I don’t want to blame anyone but myself. My parents werent the best educated and still scares me to think I was so alone when I was younger that even my parents only talked to me to put me down and still kinda do but now we can carry a conversation and bond a smidge...im 25......

This quickly turned into something more than just a update I got caught up. But I want to take this extra step in my life to document on here most of my thoughts and things as I used to back before high school culture was no more for me. To Christina.....if you read this at all...just know the only thing over the past couple years on my mind has been you if not my purpose in this life..my life....has been nothing short of terrible since we last talked and yeah I had a ton of good luck too and am blessed to say the least but the man I said I wanted to become just hasnt happened yet. I let myself go for a bit...but now I want to show the world and you...that the past couple years didnt just happen for nothing....there is so much, so fucking much I got planned and been planning for that I just hope you see why it took so long. My time will come..and maybe one day we can talk and laugh about all this because you were one of the most memorable people ever to cross paths with and even though we barely text each other anymore I hope one day we can be good friends again. Im sure we all been so busy surviving.

To those who got this far I really didnt expect anyone to finish this. It was a huge ramble. But I hope you can see I came a bit moody into the post but also with hope and excitement that Tumblr will be my home again for getting away from social media. Its been almost two years since I posted on Facebook and I dont use instagram as much anymore so ill be on here :D message me if anyone wants to be friends or anyone who may relate heck anyone who thinks they wanna be friends haha penpals that maybe have art side to them too??? hahah okay thats all bye everyone <3

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