#he cant wear shorts. i know hes wearing jeans even if its hot. the texture.

[trainerethan]

Thinking red would naturally run hot and that + video game logic helped keep him from freezing when he lived on mt silver but now that he is in a regular temperature environment he hates hot days and summer in general. He was fighting for his life in alola. But during winter he's that random guy you see who's wearing a t shirt with no jacket in the middle of December in -45°C. Which green finds hilarious but also was extremely concerned the first few times he saw red rawdogging the freezing cold weather especially when he saw him on mt. silver like that. He makes red properly dress for winter if it's really cold but let's red do whatever he wants in summer.

[gorbo-longstocking]

Could we ask for your headcanon appearance of each monster? How tall are they? Anything specific out of the typical appearance made by the fandom?

OOOO i have no idea tbh uh. hm.

gonna put this under cut because you said monster not skeleton….. whole rq list is getting da treatment >:3 fair warning i have no been super into the aus for very long so idk what constitutes as fandom wide appearance and what doesnt

sans: i dont think i have any hot takes on what he looks like? hes just regular old sans blue hoodie and basket ball shorts. i do think he smells vaguely of cheese whizz though.

papyrus: i cant stop envisioning him in sweaters and i dont know why. like the really dorky ones. the kind of guy to wear ugly christmas sweaters for months. my hot take is he tends to wear the same couple of outfits semi-frequently for months at a time as a comfort thing. his gloves and scarf are ALWAYS apart of the ensemble. the gloves r also for sensory reasons

red: i am OBSESSED with turtleneck wearing red its changed my life. i think about ur near constantly. he doesnt wear his jacket as much as sans maybe? i can also see him wearing jewelry some. if he had ears hed have one pierced. its generally rings and necklaces though. he and esge have shark teeth too like those kinds of sharp teeth but i know thats generally normal. big boneed and has a belly. bc he deserves one

edge: LEATHER ENTHUSIAST. he wears leather pants i think. he also has a purse to carry doomfanger around in (she is wearing a harness) he wears heeled boots which add to his impressive height (6’5) uhh. smells like spices. vaguely of cinnamon. gloves are less for sensory reasons, more he isnt fond of dirt.

blue: wears a bunch of goofy graphic t’s and also his scarf. has a tooth gap and freckles but thats a pretty common interpretation. he wears sneakers and has various silly ones like light ups and heelies. just for a laugh. my hot take is every sans had a tooth gap growing up and only blue didnt get it fixed. he thinks he looks better with it.

stretch: CARGO SHORTS. the many pockets for the many things he finds and picks up. theyre seemingly never endless. hes lanky looking, always slouching and leaning to one side hes never known good posture in his life. talks with his hands.

lord: wears shoes that give him a height boost. also unironically wears designer shit. his gloves are also for sensory reasons like papyrus. instead of shark like teeth he just has very sharp canines. he smells like coffee underneath and OVERWHELMING amount of cologne.

mutt: ALWAYS wearing his jacket youd be hardpressed to get it off of him (only lord can do it wnd even then its still a chore) his boots are furlined and everything he wears is the same texture. he defaults to sweat pants bc jeans r scratchy but he can manage it ok. hes got claws he tries to keep clipped down bc they scratched his phone screen. has a tendency to glare.

g: turtleneck under leather jacket wearer. he smirks more than he smiles. the tallest sans. he and ace take on a thicker set of bones to match gaster. wears docs probably.

ace: argyle enthusiast. very very tall, kind of gangly with glasses and a very sweet smile. his eyes are VERY kind you know the ones where someone smiles and their eyes crinkle up and youre like my god they r the sweetest.

height wise from tallest to shortest: ace (7'2), g (6'7) edge (6'5), papyrus (6'3), mutt (6'1), stretch (6'0), red (5'5), sans (5'3), lord (5'1), blue (5'0)

—-

gaster: tall, very tall. not really made of bone, it feels kind of boney but its more porcelain like?? holes in his hands and cracks on his face duh. kind of pudgy. like i know hes boney but hes got a dad bod tbh. his smiles kind of on the awkward side even when hes being genuine. he also tends to wear long sleeves.

mercury: eccentric sweater vest kind of guy. wears cordoroy pants and is a few inches shorter than gaster but not much. his missing a tooth in the front of his mouth (he tripped) but it only adds to his character.

epsilon: wears reds and blacks, with deep scars running along his face and also his body. his chest has a nasty one along with a few along his arm and on his back. shoes are snazzy, you can hear them click on the floor and he does it on purpose. intimidating.

height wise from tallest to shortest: epsilon (7'11), gaster (7'6), mercury (7'4)

—-

toriel: not sure what to say here except toriel in my head is soft shapes. not super curvy just kind of round. mrs clause shaped.

asgore: took the tits in the divorce

rose: a little curvier than toriel. she has the appearance of someone who used to be kind of buff but over time lost that. sharper teeth, thoigh theyre somewhat small and unnoticeable unless shes threatening you. she also has claws.

oleander: HUGE AND BUFF. where rose’s fangs are small his are not and got are they obvious. has black hair as compared to swap and uts blond. huge arms. tends to wear tight fitting plain black shirts. always sneering.

clover: also buff, gotta be buff to hold that trident. she wears flannels and jeans more often than not. shes a bit serious, leaning more towards the tired side. has eye bags that she tries to make less noticable. her horns are bit bigger than uf and ut toriel.

basil: wears glasses like ut toriel, his muscle has turned to fat so he is very soft. has a warm face, welcoming and inviting. hes the smallest of the asgore but hes still pretty damn big.

dahlia: her fangs are not as big as oleanders but much bigger than roses. seems lost in thought and when shes not shes cold and prying. doesnt sneer, she smiles, though its almost too wide and somewhat unsettling. on the off chance her face softens, she looks younger and sweeter. her real laugh sounds kind of like a bell.

hemlock: black hair like oleander although its kind of greasy. he wears cardigans, always mentioning being cold. hes got fangs as well and his eyes are somewhat down turned kind of making him look perpetually miserable. hes the thinnest of all the goats, looking borderline unhealthy.

height wise from tallest to shortest: oleander (8'4), hemlock (8'0), asgore (7'7), dahlia (7'6), clover (7'5), basil (7'4), rose (7'2), toriel (7'2)

[viralhottopics]

Not so haute: six writers on their biggest fashion mistakes

From tights on the beach to head-to-toe taffeta, writers reveal the outfits they regret

Kenya Hunt My version of day-to-night dressing was a night-time look worn all day

Despite working at a fashion magazine, Ive made a few sartorial mistakes. I comfort myself with the sentiment of an Instagram edict I saw: If youve never looked a little dumb, youre not having fun.

Id count the moment I met my husband as an off day, so it pains me no end that the clothes I wore have become a part of our marital lore. In his mind, the outfit is key to a story that must be retold, again and again: She wore a shiny shirt, tight jeans, big, gold hoop earrings, tall boots and a giant white furry jacket. And I said, I need to know this woman.

This visual loudness the metallics, the big proportions, the shaggy texture was my everyday look back in my late 20s, when I was living and working in New York. I dressed this way to please no one other than myself. I relished being able finally to buy and wear the labels I read about in magazines, but could never find in my suburban childhood home in Virginia.

My version of day-to-night dressing was basically a night-time look worn all day ready for whatever fun might happen later. Id think nothing of a morning commute in glittery Miu Miu heels or a gold Chlo sequin skirt. (To be fair, it was the era of high heels, flashy coats and skirts that were either very big and long, or very short.) No matter what the prevailing trend, Ive always had a soft spot for the razzle. For further proof, see this old image of me in Milan, in bright colour and print, layered on top of more colour and print.

Now, my wardrobe stands on a foundation of grey, navy and black, mostly because it suits my lifestyle and the London weather. I limit the flamboyance to my accessories (a bright shoe, big earring, bold handbag) or show it through shape, such as an enormous puffer jacket. Its just that now I choose pragmatic black rather than hot pink.

Theres a real joy that comes with loud dressing, because it requires a certain kind of go-to-hell spirit. Ive come to indulge this in a more restrained way, but I dont regret the mistakes. If I did, Id have divorced my husband a long time ago, for telling that story so very, very often.

Kenya Hunt is fashion features director of Elle.

Ruth Lewy: To think that this was my coolest look

Ruth Lewy, aged 20, with Dizzee Rascal.

It was May 2006 and I was coming to the end of my first year of university. I had just received my first proper student journalism commission: an interview with Dizzee Rascal. I borrowed a Dictaphone and hastily scrawled down three pages of uninventive questions (What is the best thing youve ever got for free?).

Now the important bit: my look. I loved Dizzee; I knew his two albums back to front and had mastered all the words to Fix Up, Look Sharp. What was I going to wear?

To think, looking back, that this was my very best outfit. My coolest look. Not one floral print top but two, a T-shirt layered over a shirt. Not one necklace, but two. (Made with beads collected while InterRailing around Europe. I know.) My curly hair was slicked back with Brylcreem. Off I went, looking like Laura Ashleys long-lost daughter.

He was courteous, holding eye contact and answering all my inane questions with grace. (The best thing he ever got for free? A lifetimes supply of trainers.) I stood up and shook his hand, and he invited me to his afterparty. The next student journalist sat down and went straight in with a question about homophobic lyrics and issues of representation in pop music, and I thought, Ohhhh, thats what journalism is.

The evening took a strange turn. My friends and I crowded into a bar on the high street, where Dizzee had a roped-off section at the back. It didnt take him long to zone in on my gorgeous friend L, persuading her to leave with him. We were agog.

Twenty minutes later, she was back, laughing her head off at the way he had clumsily propositioned her. She chose us over him.

What do I see when I look at this picture? I feel embarrassed at my choices. But Im also glad I spent my 20s dressing like a weirdo: it demonstrates a self-confidence that I dont think I appreciated at the time. These days, you could still file most of my clothes under eclectic, but Im much more careful, uninventive even. Now I tend to wear only one necklace at a time.

My interview never appeared in the end; the other journalist broke the embargo (she went on to write for the Daily Mail: go figure). I was left with only this blurry picture, a reminder of my youthful enthusiasm for floral prints, and an uncanny impression of Dizzee Rascals best chat-up line.

Ruth Lewy is assistant editor of Guardian Weekend.

Nosheen Iqbal: Everyone else on the beach was 89% naked

Nosheen Iqbal in Tuscany, aged 21.

I was a skittish 21-year-old in the mid noughties and I had, against my will, ended up on a Tuscan beach. It was the height of summer, but I was wearing thick black tights, thicker black skirt, black scarf and witchy pumps . Everyone else was dressed in 89% naked and the entire beach was rammed. Id been sent on a work trip with four other journalists who were, as far as I was concerned, super-old (fortysomething) and, I hoped, probably willing to buy my stubborn refusal to strip as some cool youth thing. (They didnt.) I made an attempt to style it out by looking casually moody, staring out to sea behind sunglasses, pretending not to notice my shoes sinking in the sand, legs looking like inky black stumps.

Why dont you take off your tights?

No.

What about if

No.

A couple of key things: the seaside was not on my itinerary and I hadnt packed for it. I didnt (and dont) own swimwear or a bikini, and I didnt (and dont) know how to swim.

Being Muslim is barely an excuse to look as daft as I did; there are chic ways to be modest by the sea childhood memories of Karachis Clifton beach were proof, where lawn cotton tunic and trousers were everyones friend. But being Muslim, plus an average level of body dysmorphia, was my bikini body ready get-out card. I knew there had to be more comfortable ways to be in public than permanently sucking my stomach in wearing what is, essentially, waterproof underwear. But 100-denier hosiery was definitely not the answer.

The general advice to give a shy 21-year-old should always be, Its not as bad as you think, to allay their disproportionate embarrassment. Except, in this case, the cringe levels are fully warranted; I havent been to a hot, sunny beach since.

Nosheen Iqbal is a commissioning editor for G2.

Morwenna Ferrier: I cant remember why I decided to cut off my hair

Morwenna Ferrier in Aldeburgh in her early 20s.

Other outfits have been more challenging. The mother-of-pearl bustier I wore to my graduation, say. Or, recently, the T-shirt printed with Valerie Solanass Scum manifesto I wore to meet a friends baby. But the outfit I am wearing here, worn on a walk along Aldeburgh beach in Suffolk, is the one I most regret.

It started a few months earlier when, in my early 20s, I decided to cut off my hair. I cant remember why. I imagine I fancied a change and, in fairness, I liked it. But then, I looked like a boy in a dress. I reacted by phasing out dresses and instead wearing drainpipes, striped T-shirts and headscarves. None of this was good. In the photo, Im wearing tight cropped trousers under the dress.

I had spent my late teens in dresses, grungy or flowery, with self-cut hems. It was a more innocent time, when I didnt really care what I wore. But the haircut triggered an anxiety.

What is it I regret? Back then it was the haircut; now, its that I ever worried about looking like a boy. I clearly hadnt been paying attention in those Judith Butler seminars; maybe I was still too attached to the binary. As my hair grew out, I started to care for the first time about how I looked. At 24, late in life, I became self-conscious.

Morwenna Ferrier is the Guardians online fashion editor.

Pam Lucas: I looked like a turkey at Christmas

Pam Lucas at a family party, aged 39.

As a single parent in the 80s, I was dirt poor. I didnt have the opportunity to make fashion faux pas because I didnt have any money. We shopped in jumble sales, and we had fun.

My family was invited to a party to celebrate my aunt and uncles golden wedding anniversary. I didnt know them that well, but my mum wanted me to impress them by looking modern. In the 80s, that meant puffy sleeves and big shoulders. My mother came with me to buy the outfit from BHS , so I had to comply. I was 39 at the time.

It was a beautiful colour between purple and lilac but I didnt like the synthetic fabric. It was watermarked all over and had a flared, taffeta skirt and a little jacket with a peplum. I looked like a turkey at Christmas, but it was such a fab party, I soon forgot how uncomfortable I felt.

In a way the outfit is a testament to my relationship with my mother. I was a grownup, with a child of my own, but she was still trying to keep hold of the mum bit of herself.

Pam Lucas is a model and appears regularly in All Ages.

Tshepo Mokoena: I settled on a vague hippy child look

Tshepo Mokoena at 19.

It would be nice if we could start over. To spare me, and others my age, a fair bit of niggling shame, by wiping all early photos from our Facebook accounts. Anyone who set up a profile between 2004 and 2009 now lugs around the digital baggage of horrible pictures of misspent youth and terrible outfits.

Case in point: this delight of a photo. I was 19, killing time between the second and third years of uni in Brighton. In a few weeks, my housemate and I would set off on an impulsive charity volunteering trip to Kerala because and I still cringe wed watched Wes Andersons The Darjeeling Limited.

Until my early 20s, my aesthetic consisted of not knowing when to edit. At 18, I would layer at least three beaded necklaces, two chunky bracelets, about 17 bangles and seven rings, for no good reason.

I attended secondary school in Harare, Zimbabwe, largely insulated from fashion, more concerned with my whizzing hormones than the latest velour tracksuit. I settled on a vague hippy child look at 15 and filled my wardrobe with earthy prints, flared denim and jewellery picked up in local markets. By 19, I looked like a substitute art teacher.

If youre old enough to have only private, analogue photography from your youth, or young enough to have crafted a near-fictional version of yourself online, youre spared the permanent reminder of your mistakes: 1,287 grim images owned by Mark Zuckerberg. I implore other twentysomethings to join me in calling for a digital purge. Its time.

Tshepo Mokoena is the editor of Noisey.

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