Feb 16, 2018
Very good.
seen from South Korea
seen from Kenya
seen from Tunisia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from China
seen from China
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from Ukraine
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Spain
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seen from United States
seen from Maldives
Very good.
Hello Darling! How would Gaster react to walking on in an artistic s/o deep into their work? When he finally gets their attention, he sees they have the paint/charcoal/art medium all over their face? Thank you~
Undertale
-You were probably sitting in either the art room he created for you out of a spare office or on the dining room table, your charcoal sprawled out in all directions on the surface of your canvas AND on your surrounding perimeter, but you paid that no mind as you continued to sketch with a slowly disintegrating pencil, humming as your mind was swathed with blurry dreams and a concentrated spark. Once in awhile you rubbed the underside of your jaw or flicked a knuckle across your nose as you fled deep into your mind, attempting to create a masterpiece as realistic as you feasibly were able.
-Gaster had just gotten home from the lab that afternoon with a tired sigh, shrugging off his coat languidly and placing his briefcase neatly against the wall, still wary of the times both he and you had tripped over it. He wasn’t in the best condition that day; his head was pounding, his hands were twitching, and his heartbeat was anxiously thrumming as he breathed deeply, praying that he wouldn’t look as ravaged as he did at the laboratory when you welcomed him home from work. He straightened and softly called out your name, his hands being haphazardly clasped across his chest.
-……
-When you didn’t respond, he tried again with a shaky, raised tone.
-……
-Once again, when the silence draped over his ears, he willed himself not to panic. He told himself over and over again to calm himself, you were just somewhere in the house, you were a grown adult, think rationally. It didn’t stop him from anxiously shuffling through the house, slightly dejected about the lack of your presence, before realizing where you could be.
-He rushed over to your choice of art space, only to see you hunched over your work.
-Gaster let out a breath of relief, muttering a term of endearment as he shook his head, chuckling at your mannerisms and silently deciding that you were possibly the cutest person he’d ever met.
-He walked over to you and wrapped his arms around your stomach, placing his chin on your head so that he could see what you were drawing. It was a charcoal sketch of the pale-coloured rose-crown he had made for you, but he wasn’t able to see much as you jerked in surprise.
-He let go of you, spooked by your sudden jump.
-You turned, about to curse, but you stopped cold when you saw Gaster staring at you incredulously.
-He blinked a few times, still staring at your face.
-Finally, you ask him what he’s looking at.
-And he begins to giggle like a schoolgirl.
-That giggle turned into a high-pitched snigger that had you raise your eyebrows and gaze, understandably confused and overloaded with sensory, when he brought out his phone to take a picture of your expression.
-You lunge for the phone, hotly demanding knowledge on what was so hilarious.
-He promptly shows you the photo of your perplexed face, covered in smears of black and silver.
-And then you indignantly rub your hand on his shirt.
Underfell
-You were sitting in your separate office, lazily stroking your paintbrush over the canvas and listening to the crashes, screeches, and explosions that littered the air and rumbled the ground, willing the cause of the caterwaul to shut its grizzly mouth. You gently pet the thick paper with dabs of reds, waves of blue, and lines of white, paying careful attention to the model before you, which jumped in place every moment or so from the force of the tremors below. You had a hulking block of patience that usually took nuclear weapons and hurricanes before it wore to a slim sheet, but, today, as your medium trembled in your fists and on your artist desk, you had enough of the earthquakes that were Gaster’s lab experiments.
-You yelled out to him, vehemently asking him to, you guessed it, knock it off.
-The natural disaster that was happening beneath you hadn’t ceased at your call.
-So you tried again.
-This time, however, the rumbling of the earth calmed to a dull vibration, and you hummed with a satisfied appreciation, musing that maybe Gaster did care about you to some degree.
-You turned back to your painting and tuned out the rest of the world for the next few hours, time whizzing by like an irritating mosquito until it was around seven in the dusk, when you had completely forgotten what you had promised.
-But Gaster didn’t.
-You had told him that you would join him for one of his favourite activities (which was drinking red wine and talking shit) and it seemed, to him, as if you had bailed.
-Cue anxiety anger.
-He furiously growled your name, knowing from experience that it was usually enough to snatch your attention.
-…..
-……..
-This bitch.
-He gets up, plants a scowl on his face, and snarls as he storms from the living room and into the hallway, his light but sharp steps alerting you of his oncoming flare-up, but what you hadn’t anticipated was his magic flinging open your door with a violent, crimson flick of power.
-You also didn’t expect him to open his maw to give you a piece of his mind and immediately blanch, gaping at your crimson-splattered image before him, no words escaping from between his fangs in his frozen shock.
-He stared, and you gazed just as intently back.
-……
-Until both you and he realized.
-Gaster let out a gurgling sigh as he bared his canines in blistering exasperation, his claws moving up to the bridge of his not-nose to pinch at the slight incline that adorned his face and his red pupils rolling far back into his skull as you sheepishly wiped your colourful hands against your already devastated jeans.
-You timidly reveal your painting, which is of a crystalline vase of perky echo flowers and yawning opium poppies, receiving a mutter in return for your peace offering.
-“Just get that idiotic medium off of you and follow out on your promise before you lose the chance.”
-You salute him, rushing off to the bathroom to change, giving him a cheeky poke in the side as you passed, relishing in his snake-like hiss as he demanded that you hurried.
-You revisit your art studio later that night as you prepare to retire to your bed, only to find the work in progress painting gone, with little evidence of where it went or how it dissolved into thin air. You, half anticipating that Gaster had already gotten rid of it, give a solemn shrug and mope into your shared bedroom.
-You must never know that he snagged the painting only to put it in a place of honour, right above his office desk in the basement.
-You’ll end up finding out about it anyway. He notices that you’ve become a bit distant and bleary, so he decides that since he doesn’t like when you’re being all mopey and depressed, that he should inform you of where he’s put it just to see you smile again (because he was beginning to feel guilty for making you think he had discarded it).
-He gets really pissy when you become all happy and sunshine after that little conversation, though.
Underswap
-It was a beautiful day outside, you had commented as you and your cloaked sweetheart sat on his riverboat, which sluggishly swept itself down the valley’s streams and through the mountain ranges, which you admired wholeheartedly as the minutes gently ticked by. Gaster had a gorgeous piece of scenery he was revering as well, he just wasn’t going to admit it was your own profile as you stared wistfully upon the copious fields of flowers that were padding by, waving you two on as a breeze caught both them and your hair as you decided to take out your sketchbook and pastels. You had seen something interesting within the fray of wildflowers and weeds alike that caught your attention like a vice. Gaster stalled the gondola on your unspoken request.
-He adored your concentrated expression, the way it contracted as you meticulously crafted detail after detail upon the blank white sheet, softening as you were prideful of the outcome and puffing out like a chipmunk’s cheeks when you were beyond dissatisfied at a blunder. He resolved not to interrupt your stupor, no matter how deeply he wished to fluster you with a few well-spoken phrases of love. You were too cute to disturb now.
-About twenty minutes had passed.
-Now, Gaster wasn’t one to rush you when you were in ‘art mode’. On the contrary; he would allow you peace and quiet for hours un-end if you so desired it. Today, though, he felt a spark of subtle impatience course through him as you flipped the pages of your pocket-notebook, scrawling little bursts of swirls and waving lines upon the sheets of once-barren alabaster material.
-He had a surprise for you at the end of the riverride.
-A romantic surprise that he couldn’t wait to bestow upon you, but your ass was more interested in the layers of petals that encrusted the meadows before you in fragrant, pearly colours.
-You rubbed your chin and placed your knuckles against your cheek and gazed for a few heartbeats at the landscape every tenth stroke or so, before returning to the drawings upon drawings that had, over the few weeks you’ve owned said sketchbook, piled up like end-of-the-month taxes; bountiful and profuse.
-Another ten minutes flew by, and you were still inside of your own mind.
-The boat began its languid descent down the river once again as Gaster allowed the beck to flow again, lazy as sun-melted caramel.
-You didn’t glance up immediately, but, once you did, you jerked your head in the boatman’s direction as the field of flowers disappeared over the sloping region surrounding you.
-You let out an exclamation of protest, but the riverman was less than interested as he chuckled at your complexion, which was smeared with pale smudges of ash and smoke pastel. He decided not to comment on it as he sent you a half-wry grin, his eyes shimmering with infatuation as you brought up the page you had been working on, allowing him to see the masterfully crafted pictures of baby’s breath that you had blissfully bestowed upon the face of the earth with your talent. You remarked sarcastically that it would have been better if the gondola had stayed in place.
-“You truly are an artist, my dear, with the boat standing still or not,” he said quietly, his blue stare connecting softly with yours, “Though you are the masterpiece here, I distinctly enjoy how much… expression goes into your work. You are an artisan, my love; never forget.”
-You blushed and flicked your eyes to the water beneath, sniggering as you attempted to hide your sudden bout of embarrassment.
-You didn’t realize what he said was a pun until you observed your pastel-besmirched face within the brook that trickled delightfully and merrily beneath you. Needless to say, you didn’t give him the enjoyment of outwardly enjoying his surprise, blaming your apathy on his antics when he queried as to why you seemed so sour.
Outertale
-It was a social gathering that you were 100% not keen on attending, yet Gaster had convinced you to get dolled up and arrive at the affair anyways, a scowl still slandering your expression as you strode into the doors, your arm linked to his. He glanced at you apologetically before the gates of the property opened, but he plastered a beaming grin on his face and enthusiastically shook the hand of the butler who had acknowledged who he and you were, granting you access to the innards of the large, white house. You managed to crook the tips of your lips into a tiny smile at the surprised face of the servant, amused by his confused laugh as your boyfriend cheerfully greeted him, but you weren’t able to get very far in that endeavor as the furious feeling returned to your chest tenfold as you spotted the congregations of beautiful, pretentious people.
-You were greeted by the supercilious, patronizing owner of the manor, who you were pretty sure was a misogynist as you saw him bark at his wife for leaving the bedroom and lash out at a poor, plump maid, who looked rightfully terrified as her master roared. He didn’t touch upon the fact that his son was smoking a blunt on the balcony, as you had saw and told the monster close beside you when you both were walking up the driveway to the gates, but that was a detail overlooked as he brought his attention back to you.
-He seemed to warm up to you and Gaster just fine, and beckoned you towards the refreshments table so that you could eat your fill of minuscule, vegan sandwiches and gluten-free, milk-free, fun-free sweets.
-He followed you to the large buffet of shrunken food and began having small-talk with ostensibly the only monster in the entire residence that night, asking about the recent speech the 5’ 3” monster had put on about the political relations between space-dweller and man.
-You, rightfully disinterested, swiftly kissed where your boyfriend’s ear would be and headed off, ignoring his startled call as you weaved through the crowd of gowned women and tuxedo-clad men, arriving to the large, moonlit balcony that overlooked the extensive gardens of the mansion in a quick, angered blur of activity and noise.
-Besides the two young women who were steadily making out on a marble bench, it was silent and you were alone. The girls glanced up, humiliated and aghast, but you quietly reassured them that they could remain and continue if they pleased, you didn’t mind. They glanced to one another, stunned, before giggling and assuring you that they would leave you in peace, as you looked solemn.
-You thanked them and complimented their relationship, to which they both snickered and nodded, heading back into the glittering fray of the gathering behind you.
-You, very much so indifferent to the occurrence that had just unfolded upon the seat, sat upon the very marmoreal settee-like slate that the ladies had been softcore loving each other on, and brought out your sketchbook and a muted, graphite pencil, which was your version of a comfort object.
-You began to draw and blend with the pencil (which you did with your fingers, coating them in silver), gradually relaxing as the night lingered on. Nobody disturbed you, which you were grateful for, since you saw couple after couple coming out to the veranda to kiss and confess their feelings. One even got engaged. You managed to shake yourself out of your art-trance to clap and whistle as the still-standing man squealed with delight, kissing his new fiance with overzealous vigor. They stuck their tongues out at you, tearfully laughing as you gave them an eager thumbs-up, saluting their upcoming nuptials.
-You returned to your sketching after that, and nothing else had disrupted you since.
-You didn’t noticed that, around the strike of midnight, Gaster had emerged from within the estate and stood beside you, glancing at your temple every now and then, his gaze enraptured by both the glow of the moon and the gleam in your eyes. He leaned against the railing of the balcony and murmured your name.
-…..
-And murmured it again.
-This time, you looked up from your sketch and locked your wearied stare with his, gasping slightly as he leaned down to kiss you.
-He pulled away, complaining that he had missed you the entire night. He peered at your drawing and smiled freely, saying that if you were going to draw more masterful orchids such as the one you did that night, that he’d have to steal your sketchbook. You, rightfully exasperated, groaned in displeasure and covered your face with your hands, running your fingers down your features, glaring as Gaster began to snicker.
-You asked him what he was laughing at. You really shouldn’t have, for he laughed a great deal, but tonight you were too tired to think straight.
-“Well, baby…” he skimmed his yellow orbs sideways for a heartbeat before glancing back to you, sniggering harder, “Uh, you just rubbed your fingers, which are covered in lead, on your face.”
-You grumbled, griping that he had brought this upon you.
Mertale
-You almost never got any time to relax at the shores, since there was always one little aquatic, attention-whore of a puppy prying and whining for every ounce of your mental and physical being to be focused onto him. You knew he adored you, sure, and you cherished the ever-loving shit out of him, yes, but sometimes you just could not keep up in stride with your fish friend’s tail-strokes. As smart as the pain in your legs and shoulders would be every waking second of the day with the knowledge of both the previous and upcoming workout you have had and will receive, you still looked forward to it. Even if it was anything but peaceful at times.
-Today, though, was one of those blissful days when Gaster fell asleep on your lap, something akin to a purr rumbling in his chest as you stroked his briny, froth-laden head as he dozed. His face was handsome and almost… charming as he slept. His ragged features were diluted and his rows of teeth were hidden beneath a sweet smile. He looked less menacing, less predatory, more…
-Like the person you knew he was within.
-You still knew he could tear the guts out of a great white if he put his mind to it, but you decided to let that little detail slide as you brought out the small sketchbook you had brought to the coast and began to work with the scarce amounts of water colour that you managed to stuff into your little drawstring bag.
-An hour or so had passed, and Gaster was still in a serene state of slumber. Your picture, though, was turning out particularly awful as you, time and time again, hadn’t learned a thing about using salt water to moisten your paints. It wasn’t going to work like you wanted it to now, it wasn’t going to work how you wanted it to ever. Starry blotches of white sprinkled your canvas as the spice of the ocean dug into the complicated, tight-knit surface of the paper, drawing a hiss from you as the sea anemone you were attempting to create peppered itself with pallid, irritating space that you could never fill again.
-Suddenly, Gaster jolted awake, snarling with malicious fury.
-This action slammed your painting into your face, sprayed your watercolours all over the both of you, and petrified you to the point where your resting heart rate registered as a panic attack. His eyes flashed with an animalistic, savage gleam as he bared his fangs, his thundering gnashing rendering you to a shaken, shivering body in the sand as you watched him bat away your canvas and your mediums, cursing with a gurgling screech.
-Alarmed, you asked what was wrong as calmly as you could muster in your terror-stricken state.
-He turned to you and his gaze became tender, a sharp and strange contrast to the violent expression that was contorting his face with its ugly grasp. A touch of presence brushed against your mind, “You gave a sound of pain,” he stated simply, his eyes narrowing as he abruptly reached to the conclusion that, no, nothing was indeed wrong. He relaxed at that as you replied vehemently that you were just cursing your artistic abilities, to which he stared at you quizzically.
-You, still quite shOOk, asked him what he was looking at.
-“Well, Y/N…” he began, quirking his eyebrows and poking your cheek with a sharp claw, lightly stroking it down to your mouth, “I like what you did with your face, but I think I liked it better before.”
-He pulled his finger away to show you the array of pinks, purples, and greens that tarnished his pale flesh, which were the exact culprits that were, by process of elimination, discolouring your entire complexion.
-You hissed again.
~Mod Jellyfish~
The Undertale Crew ~ Kissing Headcannons
People like me are ruining the fandom. But...
Here y’all filthy sinners. Also, warning: if complete and utter fluff is not your thing, then I advise against reading this post. Also includes PDA and height headcannons because I have no impulse control.
~Sans~
-Soft and gentle. Almost like a face-nuzzle. With his teeth. Because... no lips... He’s actually kinda surprised that you don’t dislike the feeling of literal teeth against your skin, but he doesn’t really complain since, well, you like them.
-Too lazy to always go up on his toes to smooch your face or wait for an opportunity when you’re down to his level (his level is 5 foot. He smol), so you find that he has a fondness for your hand or, if you’re minuscule enough, your neck. Also, he never asks to kiss you. It’s spontaneous and kinda jarring because, y’all could be doing nothing when surprise motherf*cker you just smooched the skeleton.
-Caution: he might fall asleep half-kiss if you’re lazing around during it, and/or there is a 99.99% chance he’ll follow the display of affection with a display of puns on said affection. Bad puns. Stop him.
-Likes to receive kisses on the cheek. Not too much effort, but he knows you love him. Plus, you’re lips are soft, and he enjoys the feeling of them on his bones. They’re nice, but he doesn’t want to abuse his privilege, so he won’t demand much of you.
-When you lounge around with him, there is a high percentile chance he’ll nudge your temple once or twice. It’s lethargic and faint, but you know it’s there. He just wants to make sure you still tolerate his presence, no biggie.
-Overall there isn’t a lot of kissing initiated by him, but he’s contented with you just being there, and he makes sure his lethargic opposition to PDA and/or excessive apathy doesn’t get in the way of you fully understanding that.
~Papyrus~
-Boisterous, and usually painful because his overzealous nature can get in the way of the common sense that his teeth hurt like balls clunking against your comparatively squishier lips that exuberantly.
-But sweet and genuine kisses nonetheless, swollen bruises aside.
-Picks you up in a swinging hug almost every time without fail. Will make you feel fairly dizzy by the end of it, and not just because of the affection. Will also trigger fear of heights if you have it, probably. Because, I don’t know, a 7 foot something monster is picking you a few feet off the ground? He might accidentally throw you once in a while. Whoops, nope, he didn’t mean to do that. Forgive him.
-Likes to proclaim his uttermost feelings to you in-between smooches. Even in public. PDA to him has no bounds. If you’re uncomfortable with that amount of... zest being shown to others outside of your home, he will pitifully attempt to restrain himself until you get back to the house.
-He just loves you too much, dammit.
-He likes any and all kinds of kisses, but has a squeamish dislike for French-kissing. It isn’t because of you, or anything, of course. He just feels as if it’s too... scandalous to be doing on a normal, everyday basis. Also, the tongues. Why. It just doesn’t look like a good time to him, and he’ll be hesitant on trying it.
General UT!Grillby Headcannons
-Has an older brother and a niece.
-Comes from a loooooong line of Grillbys. His bar is a family-owned business that was first started on the surface by his great-great grandfather. He’s Grillby the V, for God’s sake.
-Fire elementals also have decent lifespans that go from centuries to almost a thousand years. Grillby is relatively young and has yet to reach the halfway point of his first 100 years. Mid-twenties to early thirties, I like to assume.
-His father had recently passed the bar down to him and he had been working by himself for six years before Frisk fell Underground.
-When he’s flustered, the middle of his face begins to glow blue. The more embarrassed he is, the darker blue his face becomes.
-Selectively mute. Barely speaks to anyone he doesn’t know personally, but his facial expressions convey most of what he’s trying to say.
-Eyebrows speak more than he does, to be utterly honest.
-His french fries would 100% be voted best french fries on the Surface, no doubt.
-Makes drinks ‘specially for his friends and names it after them. There’s a Bloody Mary on his menu (which is literally just bourbon-spiked ketchup) and called it ‘BourBANE Of My Existence’.
-(He’s also a HUGE jokester around his friends, but he would never even attempt anything on patrons he doesn’t know enough about. People don’t believe Sans nor Fuku when they try and tell them that Grillby knows how to playfully joke around. The quiet bartender from Snowdin who doesn’t speak or even notice the existence of monsters in his bar because he’s a shy bean? Can’t be).
-Constantly ribs Sans about his tab, but never expects anything out of it. He’s learned that the smol skeleton is a Grade-A freeloader.
-Has also known the skeleton mentioned above for most of his teenage and adult life.
-Likes burning vanilla or cinnamon.
-The type who goes to hold the door open for his date and ends up holding the door for the next eight patrons.
-If not in a suit n’ tie, he sports cardigans and khakis.
-The shyest hopeless romantic you will ever meet in your life.
-Loves his friends so much. Like, so. Much. It’s a bit overbearing in the cutest, mother-hen way.
-He’s the type of person who texts you in the middle of work just to say he appreciates you (platonic OR romantic).
-Will give you free drinks or french fries if you’re his friend.
-He will learn your favourite meals and cook them for you, even if they aren’t on the menu (he will also come to your house to deliver said food if you do not stop by the pub that day).
-He’s the friend that would come over to your house at 3 am because you said you feel like shit and you need a shoulder to cry on.
-Or keep the bar open at ungodly hours just because you walked in a minute before closing and began to sob on the counter and he needs to comfort you as soon as possible or else he’s gonna start crying, too.
-Sweetest sweetheart to ever sweetheart. Pure cinnamon roll, must be protected, too good for this world.
-He can hear everything. Seriously. You could be whispering something in the back of his pub, him in the kitchen and he would s t i l l know what’s up.
-Also knows all the gossip. Owning a bar means that he hears anything and everything going on in the local area almost as soon as it arises. He would never dream of revealing anyone’s secrets, though.
-Can discern emotions. Any slight change in someone’s face or every glitter in someone’s eye can and will be noticed by him. You can’t hide feelings from him at all.
-Cuddle fiend. The person who’s too timid to ask for hugs but gives the best ones.
-A bit of a pushover. Will do anything to please.
-Not being liked by someone makes him very Sad and then he tries everything under the sun to make them change their mind.
-(Is lowkey distressed that Papyrus dislikes his restaurant)
-Really book-smart and could finish a crossword in under an hour and/or pass an SAT.
-Isn’t a dog nor a cat person. He’s a bird person.
-Gets really self-conscious about how loud his flames are crackling.
-Gets hotter in temperature when embarrassed.
-Flames dim when in a low mood.
-Water to his flames is like acid to human skin.
-Zero pain tolerance. Like, none. Pinch him lightly and he’s sobbing for his mother.
-Also has zero tolerance for teasing. It’s so easy to fluster him, it’s almost pathetic.
-The only time you will hear him curse is when he gets a sharp pain or a variant of such. It’s more of a cry of anguish, but you can still hear the cuss through the tears.
-If it is raining outside, he will hermit inside of his bar until it stops. He is not going outside, nope nope nope nope.
-That being said, he has a phobia of both Waterfall and thunderstorms. Anything having to do with water makes him squeamish and he would rather not even serve water in his restaurant.
-Gets this really goofy grin around people he loves.
-Adjusts his glasses when anxious, and takes them off to clean them in awkward situations.
-A mix between the dad friend, the mom friend, and the naive friend that needs constant validation that they’re a good friend.
-Will make cookies and give them to his friends as gifts as they go to leave the bar on occasion. If you’re really special, you get personalized cookies and a hug.
-Who am I kidding, if you’re special to him, you get a hug every time.
~That’s all for now~
-Mod Jellyfish
General W.D. Gaster Headcannons
- “I like worrying… it keeps me calm.” ~ Diane Keaton, 5 Flights Up - Imagine the most British, intellectual goon that tries to use big words to sound smart. Now multiply that by a thousand, a badly imitated accent, and the almost constant use of giant words that you didn’t even know existed. This man is a walking Oxford dictionary. A wannabe British Oxford dictionary. - He’s memorized the entire periodic table, down to the precise decimal masses of the elements. Might not seem like that much of an achievement, but when he starts both being a meme and flirting with said elements, then you’ve got an…. obviously dorky scientist. -His SOUL color is purple. -His ‘Gaster Blasters’ were named by Sans when he was an assistant to Dr. Gaster. The skulls were artificially created by Gaster’s DNA, Void essence, and some of Sans’ magic. They are beings that live within the Void of the CORE and are summoned by teleportation. They feed off of strong emotions, which is the reason why they decide to aid their summoners in the midst of battle. -S O M A N Y T U R T L E N E C K S. Like, he has every color of sweater you could possibly imagine. You didn’t even know that color existed until you saw him in that turtleneck. But other than that, his fashion sense is very simple and refined. A sweater, khakis or corduroys, and a ‘casual’ black trench-coat. -His facial scars from the Void are actually engraved into SOUL from when he fell into the CORE. -His birthday is June sixth. -Tol boy. Over 8 feet tol, in fact. He hits his head on many door frames and car roofs, and he’s constantly complaining/suffering from a headache because of it. -He is such a cornball. Mistletoe, picnic dates, stargazing, all of it makes him swoon. He’s a hopeless romantic, but his anxious demeanor stops him from really pursuing anything intimate like that. Plus, his work takes him away from his personal life often, so socialization isn’t really the first thing on his to-do list. -He needs constant validation and love. Basically a giant puppy.
-Drinks hot sauce like Sans drinks ketchup. Some of the other Royal Scientists back in the day dared him to take a shot of sriracha and he ended up getting addicted liking it.
-Such a nerd. Goes of on science-y tangents because it makes him happy. Listen to him ramble and it will make him even happier.
-Grade-A chemist and physicist, but knows close to nothing about biology and needs a calculator for ‘2+2′. Not saying he’s dumb in the mathematical regard, but he doesn’t trust himself to provide the right answer with his brain. He also didn’t know what the hell a period was until he got a female human as a friend, and knows zip about human reproduction. Monsters reproduce with their SOULs, and most don’t even have reproductive organs, so he most likely doesn’t even know what a vagina is. Wait... humans put what where?!
-Loves lollipops and will always have some sort of sucker in his mouth. Gives him something to distract himself with in the silence of the labs.
-Got teased for being a pretty boy because of it
-Gets really distressed when his friends are distressed. It’s a vicious cycle.
-Suffers from PTSD and anxiety. Help the poor boy.
-Hates the darkness and is utterly convinced that thunderstorms are the spawn of the devil himself, especially if they cut out the power.
-Unsurprisingly is the white dad friend.
-Loves his friends as if they were his children. Calls people ‘my child’ and ‘dear’. Toriel rubbed off on him.
-Likes to try and be smooth, but fails miserably and he ends up making the situation 10000000000000x more awkward.
-Most of these are just @gasterimagines version of Gaster. They dragged me into this hellpit, they’ll get their goshdarn credit for it.
~Mod Jellyfish~
Can i have a match-up please? I am a Leo and im 5 foot 1. My personality is: if i don't know you well, i probably wont talk to you until you say something. But i love making new friends and once you get to know me, im a little bit of a goof (I have actually said LOL out loud but that might be because i spend too much time on the internet) One of my favorite things to do is watch a show or movie together and make jokes about it or sit on the couch and read books. I like when someones near me.
You’re perfect Gaster is….
Undertale Gaster!
First things first, I must say, your signs (Leo and Pisces) indicate a perfect balance in your relationship! They may seem like polar opposites in retrospect, but it has been proven time and time again that the night and day do indeed attract! UT is a true oxymoron in the fact that he is utterly attracted by the idea of new friendships and companions, but he is dreadfully anxious about actually approaching someone and, I don’t know, simply engaging in conversation? It takes a few hurdles and a couple of seconds of quiet internal screaming for him to finally greet you for the first time. Both of you find yourselves newly comforted by the flustered, graceless auras that the two of you simultaneously emit (more so he than you, I’d believe; you seem like the type who sits in silence unless another speaks to you, which leaves less room for inelegant stumbles), and it brings you closer as partners because you both end up fluttering like half-dead birds whilst being introduced to each other’s friend groups. Literally. I think it’s safe to assume that UT would fumble or trip over his own legs in nervousness once or twice during those interactions. The further I get into your ask, the more I feel as if your characterization is nearly identical to UT’s. He’s a sweetheart who cracks dad jokes and tells hilarious stories just to see you smile, and is 100% appreciative of your goofy nature. Hell, I haven’t a doubt it my mind that he’s said ‘LOL’ out loud in a discussion as well. He’s down for any of your favourite activities wholeheartedly as long as you let him cuddle and hug you throughout the experience, which eventually leads to him becoming more of a distraction than anything. He likes when you lay on his chest so he can read the book you’re ravenously consuming over your shoulder, or when you nuzzle in under his arm whilst your watching a show or movie on the television. Your little quips during the programs amuse him to no end, and once in awhile you’ll find yourself snarking back and forth about a certain character or scene in the film for so long a time that you’ll eventually forget that you’re actually watching something and you need to p a y a t t e n t i o n. As for your liking of someone’s constant presence? This monster is so. Enamoured with you. That he will not let go of your arm. He’ll be there whether you want him to be or not, picking you up for impromptu huggles and continually, no matter what happens, warming the air beside you. He’s yours, and he wants you to know that. He loves every bit of you, from your small height, to your goofball personality, to your love of quiet, domestic activities.
Yeah, he’d fall like a brick in the ocean for you.
~Mod Jellyfish~
Ooh could I request UT!Asgore headcanons please? I love the big fluffball <3
Glad to oblige, doll~ I also didn’t know whether or not you meant General Headcanons or Romantic Headcanons, so you’re getting both. Enjoy~!
-When he arrives onto the Surface after the Barrier breaks, he finds a small cottage just outside of Ebbott City, right in a cove of tall aspens with a assortment of many ponds and creeks surrounding. It’s a gorgeous plot of land, which makes up for the tiny size of the home. Asgore wanted something more modest when he and his citizens moved into the world above, but, after a few months of being on the Surface and owning his chalet, his flower garden is anything but modest as it bursts and bleeds with vibrancy. He managed to make his little valley a painting of happiness and colour within the short period of time he was bestowed with. Buttercups are the centerpiece of the entire garden, but they’re bunched together with daisies, begonias, hydrangeas, daffodils, tulips, violets, and he even preens a prize-winning pink rose bush that takes its stand right under his kitchen window.
-He gave up being King of the Monsters when Mt. Ebbott’s Barrier was destroyed. He believes that he doesn’t deserve the title anymore, consider all of the horrible things he’d done to Frisk and all of the poor children before them. Giving his people hope beneath his own prejudice… he doesn’t even believe that he is still meant to be blessed with a beating SOUL and a solid body anymore. Frisk convinced him to become their partner in crime when it came to being an ambassador, but that’s all he’s willing to do. All he wants is some quietness in his life so he may repent.
-No human child that fell before Frisk had been directly killed by Asgore. PATIENCE was killed in the Ruins by Vegetoids and the spiders. BRAVERY was captured by the Royal Guard in Snowdin and was slaughtered because they fought back too hard. INTEGRITY bumped into Undyne in Waterfall, but they managed to escape and hide in some grass. They perished because of their wounds after they dragged themselves behind a sheet of water (in the secret cavern) in attempt to hide from Undyne. PERSEVERANCE met their demise off of the bridge in Waterfall. They were knocked off by Undyne, and then the Head of the Guard then proceeded to gloat her victory to Gerson by bringing him their remains. KINDNESS bled internally from blunt-force trauma brought upon them by a Tsunderplane. JUSTICE made it to MTT Resort before being the co-star of Cooking with a Killer Robot. Bratty and Catty then took their items because the besties associated the gun and the hat with MTT’s killer performance. Asgore still blamed himself for every death. Every ounce of pain. Every drop of blood. He’ll never get over it.
-A flower crown was the first gift he ever gave you. It was weaved delicately with dandelions, daisies, carnations, buttercups, and every variant of your favourite flower he could manage to grow. It was beautiful and honestly a very genuine gift because of the meanings of the flowers. Dandelions mean persevering through life’s challenges, daisies mean loyal love, carnations have the meaning of pure love and the implication that the recipient is lovely, and buttercups have the tendency of saying ‘your charm dazzles me’. The connotation of your preferred bundle of petals is dependent on what that bundle of petals is, but nevertheless. He also tells you that each blossom has a meaning, and is very fluent in those meanings. He speaks through them when he can’t find the words to speak aloud.
-His favourite thing to do with you is to sit on a love-seat near his bay window, sipping at Golden Flower tea, with you leaned against him and the slight hum of classical music in the background. Many if not all of the dates he takes you on are quiet, such as afternoon trips to the local tea house or slow strolls through the woods that encircle Mt. Ebbott before dusk, just so that you can watch the sunset together. He prefers to stay out of the city as much as possible, and he just wants you to understand the reasons he loves his solitude. He’s still terrified of you finding out about his past and leaving him for his sins (and he doesn’t blame you; he’d leave him, too), but he’ll still try to make you as happy and comfortable as possible when you’re with him. Because, hey; you are the newest and only light in his life. He will cherish your warmth for as long as he’s allowed.
-He melts into any kind of affection after becoming sure of your presence. His hugs are the best for these reasons; he’s big, he’s strong, he’s gentle, he smells like flowers, and he’s s o f t. They don’t call him Fluffybuns for nothing. He just kind of envelops you in his arms and suddenly you’re in a safe cocoon of contentment and love, because this goober adores you. His kisses are also silky, but they do have the downside of tickling a bit when his nose twitches, which is an involuntary movement he’s gotten used to doing when something brushes against his nostrils. Whilst on the topic of schnozes, he also sneezes like a kitten. It’s adorable, send help.
-His nicknames for you are ‘dear’, ‘buttercup’, and ‘my flower’. He also has so much free time on his paws that he writes you little poems, stories, and paints you small pictures with all those hours he has to himself. He plants them in your coat pockets, into your lunch bag, and/or into your backpack for you to find throughout the day to read the sappy and affectionate words he spent hours writing, just so that they could be as poetic and as heartfelt as possible. He overthinks all of them, but I swear to god, if you don’t love every single one of those beautiful little notes then there’s something seriously wrong with you.
~Mod Jellyfish~
What’s Up, Wasabi
Hello everyone! I’m Mod Jellyfish, one of the new mods that were selected to co-run this blog. I am a pansexual and I got by she/her pronouns. I have an infinite love for the ocean (aspiring marine biologist) and I have a dream to publish my own novella series one day. I hope to make you all proud as a moderator for this wonderful blog!