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torrikor · 5 years

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You've mentioned being a little bit into SF Sans again lately and although I know you've already told us your headcanons for him and such, is there any little quirks in his style or personality or any really tiny trivia which may seem unimportant but which you have given him and feel strongly about but have never seen or almost never seen anyone else give or do for him before? (also sorry about your roommates :( I'm glad they're temporary)

being ‘a little bit into sf sans’ is an understatement honestly :’D

but!!! i actually do have a list of Random Hunter Facts that i’ve accumulated over time!!! they might not all necessarily be original or anything, but i can and will jump at any chance to blab about small details like these :D (hunter is my personal interpretation of sf sans, for those unaware)

he’s ridiculously talented at untangling headphone wires in record time

his favourite drink is hot chocolate

he has absolutely impenetrable tolerance for spicy foodswont even flinch at death or violence but hand him one of those particularly gooey & sticky slime toys and he’s Out

(the feeling is Bad and it somehow always gets stuck between his phalanges)

loves dinosaurs!!!

a very talented makeup artist & fight/dance sequence choreographer

trained himself in multiple dancestyles (including ballroom & ballet) & also an incredible ice skater

he has freckles & no i will not be taking any criticism on this

(they’re very light & not too visible on the regular but when he blushes his face looks like a galaxy with the feckles as stars)

a deceptively talented pickpocket, he’s very good at matters involving sleight of hand

he’d drop everything for his brother and that is a promise

HE’S SO FUCKIGN PETTY OH MY GODS

can and will poke fun at his brother & other such close friends

very adept at picking up languages! he speaks english, spanish, irish, as well as a monster-specific sign language for his brother. knows other snippets and phrases in many other languages (most of them are swears so he can cuss people out without them knowing bc as previously stated: he’s a petty bastard)

an Absolute Beast at dance dance revolution

cannot use chopsticks to save his life for some reason. he just. he just Can’t Do It.

the happiest, friendliest, physically affectionate, most emotional and competitive drunk you’ll ever meet

i know i’ve spoken about my voice headcanons before but i’ll say it again: he’s trained himself to speak in a very proper, typical (and somewhat stereotyped i suppose) british accent. when tired, alone with his brother, or just flat out drunk he will revert back to his natural accent which involves much use of slang. his & his brother’s natual accents are irish-sounding

i’m assuming most of y’all know about his leg by now too but hunter also has a prosthetic left leg

#torri talks #sf sans #swapfell #hunter #there is More but i’ll spare people’s dashes bc i can’t put stuff under a cut right now kdfbbdkd #here are some tidbits about the Best Bastard :D

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itsallinmeee-blog · 6 years

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The Perfect Family

A husband sits with his arm around his wife. He is handsome, works out, very daddy-ish. The wife has such a perfect waist and body and her face looks is so young and vibrant you didn’t assume the three kids running around were hers. The oldest is ten and the other two are spaced out evenly enough in age under him. And if the oldest is 10, that means the wife is 40 plus, because she waited until the perect age (after 30) to start having kids. Her skin is so vibrant, well moisturized and wrinkle free because that’s not some baby daddy with his arm around her, it’s her husband. The one father of every kid she ever conceived in her womb, and he doesn’t stress her out at all. He’s never going to ‘leave her with all those kids by herself’, so they don’t have anything at all to argue about. And he’s an ideal father figure and partner in every aspect. You know that because he knew to make her a wife and not just another baby’s mama. Duh. Her degree(s) are on the wall and she had her six figure income-making career before she sat down and had some damn children. A real Proverb’s 31 Woman.

I grew up something like that, actually. My mother had graduated college and married my father and even waited years before she had her first child. My father had also graduated college and found himself working a good ol’ government job so hard that my mother was afforded the opportunity to stay home and raise some babies, all with the same daddy. Some babies she had at 28 and 30 years old. Set up for perfection, right? Now we weren’t rich and this story ended up taking a million turns before I turned 18; jobs lost, new careers started, jobs lost, moves out of state, business started, businesses failed. Hell, LIFE happened to my parents as I watched closely.

I watched my mother as a stay-at-home mom at first, teaching me Spanish and how to count and spell. Really pouring all she could into me. When my paternal grandmother got sick, she took care of her as well. Me, my brother and my nana. And when my daddy lost his government job she got up and found two of her own, and kept every light on and faucet running by her damn self. You literally could not ask for or find a better woman. But we all know, that won’t stop a nigga from trying. I saw my mother go through things inside and greet the world with a smile, pleasant attitude and godly aura, regardless. I watched her forgive, forgive, forgive. Give, give, give. Love, love, love and when I turned 18, I watched her lose it all and start from ground 0.

She built herself up again, kept it together and moved on, as real women do. She didn’t clown him on Facebook or go slut it out to catch up on all she had missed out on, spending 23 years being faithful to some man. She found God, rebuilt her foundation, and moved on. Now maybe there’s some big fabulous and amazing blessing waiting for her on the other side. Maybe the blessing was not allowing herself to be held back and dragged down by that ‘some man’ any longer. Maybe the blessings are the two could-be-better kids that came out of the marriage… Or maybe the lesson was for me.

“Don’t waste your life and all your good years trying to be a good woman to some fucking man.”

Got it.

Many of my friends didn’t grow up with a two parent household. For instance, I was talking to my first cousin once we had grown up and become friends. She was an only child with the mom that wanted to dress alike all the time. Ummm, where do I sign up? Where she saw a father figure in the home and a friend to play with, I saw a live in year-round Scrooge and a personal boy face-ass nuisance after I specifically asked for a sister. The grass really always looks greener. My children-of-divorce friends always bragged about getting “two Christmases” etc. because they split holidays between their parents (omg, so cool). Having two rooms filled with toys. A ‘mama’s house’ and ‘daddy’s house’ and I’m just listening, picturing the two biggest toy filled rooms I could imagine. Best of all, for them, I know they probably didn’t see some of the things I saw a man do. Eventually I saw the difference between the kids that longed for two parent homes and (some of) those of us in them that knew better.

Around the age of 19 something happened to my ego. I went from longing for things I didn’t think I deserved to understanding that nothing and no one deserved me, the way my father or no man I had known deserved my beautiful, brilliant, talented, educated, dedicated, loyal, hard-working mother. I realized that I was the prize, the gift, the table and the house the table was in. I was IT and women probably never raised the type of men that deserved a goddess like me ever before. And if they did, they damn sure hadn’t in the last 20 or so years. So I wasn’t looking for a damn husband. A man was not about to feel like he owned me, ever. And damn sure not so he could throw me away when he was done... I was nobody’s property and I was going to do any and all of the leaving, when I saw fit. I lost my will to fight for love and I wasn’t on the search for a life partner and that was just it. I told myself that even if I got married, I would always be prepared to leave or be left at the drop of a dime. Because I went off to college one semester and came home to divorced parents. I went off the next semester and came home to my father telling me this was not my home anymore, while standing in front of some crow faced bitch. Okay? So the lesson there was things can change at the drops of dimes and you’ve got to be ready to change with them. I found my lane and this was it. They call us free spirits.

Hoes. Free spirit became synonymous with hoe and if your spirit is truly free that’s some laughable shit. Free spirit to me means, I wore mascara and bold eyeliner today with a sleek bun and business attire. Maybe I had a meeting, maybe I was just feeling like Joan Clayton from Girlfriends. Tomorrow I may feel like Solange or Kelis. This month I might feel like Solange and opt for a natual brow. And natural legs and armpits, too (I don’t know if she shaves or not). I might have my home girl sew some hair in and it might be fire red. I might cut all of it off and go blonde (just the ends, though). Really, whatever. I am a free. I invest in the people I spend time with. I am a listening ear, soundboard, friend, confidante, companion. Mother. My loyalty is to myself so it does not blind my decision making. Once you are causing me more harm than all this good I am giving to you, I will be gone like the wind. I live gone like the wind. Never really in one place in the first place. Always on the way somewhere else. I didn’t even put titles on our time here, so there were no questions to be asked or arguments to be had once I decide to go. I owed no one anything and wasn’t passing around my collection plate, either. I was FREE.

In a partner I wasn’t necessarily looking for anything, but I knew how it should feel. That’s how I got the most out of situations; allowing things to be what and who they are and growing into what or who it will be. I certainly wasn’t looking for a husband but I managed to have never dated, entertained or courted a man I did not know would be a great father. Compassion, empathy, dedication. Always the sons of divorced parents. I was blessed enough to connect more than once with someone that understood one of the most valuable and rewarding experiences in adulting was in being a good parent; responsible in my decision making, loving, caring, respectful of our child’s parent.

In a partner I wasn’t necessarily looking for anything, but I knew how it should feel. That’s how I got the most out of situations; allowing things to be what and who they are and growing into what or who it will be. I certainly wasn’t looking for a husband but I managed to have never dated, entertained or courted a man I did not know would be a great father. Compassion, empathy, dedication. All sons of divorced parents. I was blessed enough to connect more than once with someone that understood one of the most valuable and rewarding experiences in adulting was in being a good parent; responsible in my decision making, loving, caring, respectful of their child’s mothers. I could pick a good future father out better than Safaree can spot plastic surgery. Trust me, I knew.

But I noticed, even before I was a baby mother, that people get shamed out of wanting what they really want in a family. People shame pregnant women the whole nine months if they’re doing it alone, and shame their baby daddy’s with them if they’re not their husband. I can remember being in church at a service where a young woman was having her baby christened. The minister asked her to introduce everyone to the congregation. She got on the mic “my aunt, my mom... and her father” Safe. “Your what?” asked the minister. Hmmmmmm what you doin, lady? She said: HER. FATHER. “My daughter’s father?” She said “Your what?” again. “He’s not your husband, is he?” And I think it was in that moment that I decided I just did not want the marriage thing. A man unmarried was selfish and living, but the woman was unwanted and unclean. Unreal. My rebellion and the clouds of opinions I allowed to shape my own desires is the only reason I feel like I don’t have the perfect Proud Baby Mama story, but at the very least I have a daughter that gets all the love I wanted.

Mission accomplished.

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