scale plastic model


It’s been a minute since I posted, new job is keeping me busy and tired. Decided to use my day off wisely and finally got a headstart on that comission for my hyper patient friend. I am already loving the base, now I gotta make everything match it.


Finished this Ma.K Oskar, a kit that has been in my stash since 2014 when I first started out! 

There is a night and day difference between the newly tooled Wave parts for the hull and weapons compared to the old Nitto Neuspotter parts. Painted with a Mr. Color Aircraft Interiors Color set and weathered with oils and dry pigments.

Thanks for looking and please look forward to some new types of posts in the future (including detailed step by step build processes and possibly even some videos). 


Real space/scale model

European Automated Transfer Vehicle “Jules Verne”, 1:125 scale plastic model, part of Heller 52909 Mission Jules Verne kit

Small progress but, progress nonetheless. Finally got the hands sorted out, started shading the drake skull and experimenting a bit with mixing the highlight color, which if you can believe it, will be the first green paint applied to this guy. I am really loving working on this ugly bastard, ‘es quite the fun guy.



Ma.K SAFS type Snowman- One of the more whimsical models in my stash. Only resculpted the arm joints on this guy because a nice friend hooked me up with the Pink Tank leg joints set. Painted with Gaianotes lacquers and weathered with oil paints. Base is acrylic mediums with crushed glass snow, and a dog figure from some 1/24 figure set. Please enjoy!

Helpful Reader & Alpha Sans

               This Papyrus character seemed very sweet, but you weren’t sure if he was completely sane. He’d been talking to Miss Hart for the past half-hour, flailing his arms about as his voice boomed about the shelter. It was a large building, but not big enough to soften his words. The deer monster hushed him several times, but his volume would eventually climb back up. The quiet and shy readers had hidden themselves away in one of the doll houses in the far corner of the playpen, while the energetic and curious ones watched the skeleton excitedly. The rest of you were playing, enjoying your time before dinner and bed.

               “ARE YOU SURE?” The skeleton boomed as he was led over to the pen, looking a bit nervous. Miss Hart rolled her eyes behind his back and pushed him forward.

               “Just talk to them,” she insisted, “get to know some of them. I’m certain you can find the perfect Reader for your brother. I’ll go fill out the paperwork.”

               The tall skeleton tapped his gloved hands together and, still looking nervous, knelt beside the two-foot-high wall that separated the playpen from the rest of the store. He looked really, really uncomfortable at being so close to you all. He wasn’t the first nervous monster you all had seen, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last. All the Readers that hadn’t been chased off by his boisterous attitude immediately gravitated towards him, like pins pulled by a magnet.

               “Uh, hello there, little ones!” He greeted upon realizing he had an audience. He was hilariously tall, and even kneeling down he towered over the wall. Several of them called out ‘hello’ or ‘hi’, while the rest simply waved. “I, the GREAT PAPYRUS,” his bellowing nearly blew several of the smaller Readers off their feet, “am looking for a companion for my brother!” He twitched his fingers a bit, and had he lips you were certain he would be chewing on them. When nothing more was said, a few of you shared amused expressions. Nervous, anxious monsters were always so cute when trying to speak with Readers the first time.

               “What’s your brother like?” A curious Reader piped up, urging him on with a soft smile.

               Papyrus immediately brightened up. “Oh! My brother is the best!” Literal stars appeared in his eye sockets and he hunched over to get closer to you all, arms draping over the wall so they nearly touched the floor. “His name is Sans. He’s older than me by a few years, but I’m taller,” he bragged with little-brother-pride. “He works with the Royal Scientist, Dr. W. D. Gaster, who’s also our dad.”

               The curious and intellectual Readers ‘ooh-ed’ and moved forward, eager to hear more. A few of the active ones wandered off, not interested in being with a cerebral monster over an energetic one. You stayed towards the back, listening as Papyrus went on and on about the experiments his father and brother had told him about.

               “So is science stuff all your brother does?” One of the creative readers asked.

               “Oh, no!” Papyrus laughed. “He’s a lazybones – dad says he barely does his job at work. He likes to nap a lot, or just lay around and read.” The rest of the adventurous and active types of Readers left the group, going back to scaling the plastic model of Mt. Ebott (complete with a cave system with hideaways and a fake little waterfall-esque twisty slide down one side). Papyrus didn’t seem surprised when they left – Miss Hart must have warned him about the whole ‘thinning the herd’ effect his description would have.

               “He does like jokes, though! All day long he makes puns.” The ridges above the skeletons nose cavity wrinkled. “It drives me nuts, but it makes him happy.” His voice dropped a bit at the end, and you caught a glimpse of something sad deep in his sockets.

               You stepped past the handful of Readers left and frowned up at him. “Are you okay, Mr. Papyrus?” You asked, reaching up and patting one of the boney hands hanging over the edge of the wall.

               “I am alright,” he rushed to assure you and the others, who had followed your lead and gathered closer, all having to crane your heads back to look up at him. Jeeze, he really was ridiculously tall. His smile looked a bit more strained than before. “It is simply that lately Sans has not been as happy as before.” He hung his head a bit. “I have not been able to cheer him up, and my father doesn’t have any ideas on what could be wrong. I think that he may be lonely…”

               “Awwww,” you patted his fingers again, getting his attention, “Don’t skull-k, Mr. Papyrus. You’re obviously doing a skele-TON to help your brother. I’m sure one of us can help him feel less bonely!

               Several of your fellow Readers groaned at the puns, and you shot them a guilty grin. A few of them, seeing what being around a punny skeleton all day might be like, wandered back to play with the toys. You didn’t really notice them, though – your focus was on Papyrus.

               The skeleton was staring at you with even bigger stars in his eyes than before. His jaw had dropped, and before you realized what was happening you’d been scooped up in a pair of boney hands covered in thick, red gloves. He lifted you to his beaming face.

               “You’re PERFECT! You tell the same stup – uh, the same jokes as Sans!” He gushed excitedly as he stood. You had to grab onto one of his thumbs to keep from falling on your face. He spun around and rushed to the far side of the room, where Miss Hart was sitting at her big desk, filling out paperwork. She glanced up at he came to a halt in front of her, an amused smile on her lips.

               “Did you meet someone you think your brother will like?”

               “YES!” Papyrus boomed, holding you out in front of him. The deer monster blinked, then huffed in laughter.

               “You told him jokes, didn’t you?” She accused, poking you in the stomach with the end of her pen. You couldn’t help but giggle and wrap your arms around yourself, trusting the skeleton wouldn’t let you fall from his fingers.

               “Have a hart, ma’am! Don’t tickle me!” You squealed when the pen gentle jabbed your side again.

               The deer rolled her eyes but was smiling widely. She pulled out a page from the stack she had been filling out. It was an adoption form – gilded edges and everything, very official looking with curly writing and her signature in the bottom corner. “I just need you to sign this here,” she pointed to a blank space beside her own, “and a few other things.”

               Papyrus carefully set you down on the desk and accepted the ballpoint pen she handed him. The skeleton signed his name in a flourish on the adoption certificate, and you noted that his handwriting looked oddly like a font you’d seen in a book about a desert place called Egypt. Weird. He quickly read through the accompanying paperwork – all outlining the laws involving owning a Reader, care instructions, proper feeding instructions (READER, YOU CAN EAT PASTA! I CANNOT WAIT TO MAKE YOU MY SPECIAL FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI!), using magic around Readers, and such. Miss Hart, meanwhile, pulled a small white bag from the bottom drawer of her desk and set it beside you with a bright smile.  

               “What’s that?” Papyrus asked curiously as he handed her pen back, along with the papers.

               “It’s just a little care package for new owners,” Rivet held the plastic bag open for him to peek in. There was a pamphlet about Reader health, along with some Reader-sized toiletries, a few simple changes of clothes, some snacks, and a few books and toys.

               Papyrus beamed and accepted it from her. “Thank you so much, ma’am!” He tugged out his phone and the bag disappeared in his storage space. “I’ll make sure Sans reads every word of the paper, I promise!”

               “I know you will, sweetie.” Rivet stood and shook his hand across the desk, before poking you in the side again. “You’ve found a good little friend, sir. I’ve never had such a funny little Companion Reader before.”

               Papyrus paused half-way in picking you up. “Companion Reader?” You leaned against his fingers, which prompted him to lift you to chest-height.

               “Yes,” Rivet pointed at a poster on the wall. One of the pictures was of a reader in a soft gray sweater, the same color as your own, beneath the words ‘COMPANION READER.’ “Companion Readers are wonderful, caring friends to any monster they meet. A lot of therapists and doctors in the area have Companion Readers – they’re very good at calming children and comforting monsters. As long as your brother can handle this ones terrible jokes, he’ll never feel lonely again.”

               “They’re not terrible!” You crossed your arms and pouted. “I think I’m very humerus.”

               Both monsters groaned loudly. “They will get along fine,” Papyrus assured her as he carefully lifted you to sit on his shoulder, where his pauldrons met his scarf. You had to grab onto his scarf to keep from sliding off, but his height meant you could see everything. It was incredible. “Now little Reader, let us be off!” With a dramatic twirl, Papyrus scampered out of the shelter, and you were barely able to toss a wave to Rivet on the way out.


               “I don’t know the best way to do this.” Papyrus had given you a whirl-wind tour of the house, which was a nice two-story cabin, before depositing you on the kitchen counter as he began to cobble together a spaghetti dinner for his brother and father.

               “Well, what does your brother like? Besides jokes?” You prodded, watching as he began beating tomatoes into submission. It was an interesting technique. You’d never really seen cooking before, but you were fairly sure Papyrus was doing it in a very unique way.

               “Ketchup. Japes. Jokes. Pranks. My spaghetti. He doesn’t like sweets much but he’ll eat them when they’re in reach…” The tall skeleton gasped and stopped mid-punch. “That’s it! I’ll bake a cake, and you can pop out of it and surprise him!”

               You grinned, then glanced at the clock on the oven. It read 4:45. “Um, didn’t you say they’d be home around five?” You pointed at it, and his face fell.

               “Oh, right, there’s no time to bake a cake.” He pouted a bit as he scraped the tomato remnants into a pan along with several spices and a few other vegetables he’d already beaten to death. The noodles went in the pot, the pan when on the back burner, and dinner would be ready in fifteen minutes, he told you.

               “What else can we do?” You asked. He leaned against the counter, arms folded over his anime-themed t-shirt (he’d changed before cooking, not wanting to get his Battle Body dirty). You mimicked him, leaning back against a jar of olives he’d left out and crossing your arms.

               The skeleton sighed and tried to think about what else he could use to surprise his brother. You mimicked his pout and posture, drawing a smirk from him when he caught what you were doing. You smirked back.

               Not even a moment later he slammed his fist into the counter a few inches away, making you jump. “I’ve got it!” He had started to vibrate in excitement. “You can jump outta the spaghetti!

               “Uh…” You blinked uncertainly. “Wouldn’t that, uh, be hot? And, like, get me and the food dirty?”

               “Not if I use my magic!” Papyrus was rocking from side to side now, one hand on his chin as he planned it out. “It would only be for a minute – they always come straight to the table when they get home!” His face was a bit flushed now, cheekbones orange in excitement.

               The clock over the oven beeped and Papyrus became a whirlwind of activity, draining the pasta, stirring the sauce, and dishing it all up into serving bowls. Then, he quickly set the table – three spots, three plates, two glasses of water and one bottle of ketchup, forks, napkins, everything needed for a nice spaghetti dinner. Just as he set down the last fork, the front door unlocked and swung open.

               “Oh!” Papyrus grabbed you off the counter and swept you over to the table. An orange glow surrounded you – it tickled a bit, and you squirmed against his palm. “Don’t worry, my magic will protect you! As soon as he starts to serve, I’ll help you pop up and we can both yell surprise!” He was trying to whisper, his voice softer than normal but still a bit loud. He pushed around the spaghetti, and you were glad he had put the sauce in a different bowl, or this would be a very messy prank.

               He tucked you among the noodles, and you did your best to ignore how much it felt like worms. A moment later he covered you, and everything was shaded in an odd yellowish light.

               “Hey Paps! It smells good, did you make your special Friday-night spaghetti?” A tired, cheerful voice asked.

               “Hello, brother! Hello, father! No, I made my special friendship spaghetti!”

               “Ah, friendship spaghetti? But son, I thought we were already friends?” A second voice asked, humor underlying fake hurt.

               There was a slight stutter before Papyrus managed to answer. “Ah-ah-a well, yes, of course we are friends! But it is always good to reaffirm it! With spaghetti!”

               The two new voices laughed, and you heard the chairs around the table scrape as they were pulled back. There was some creaking and groaning as the chairs were occupied, followed by the fluffing of napkins.

               “You look hungry, Sans. Why don’t you get yours first?” Papyrus urged, and you did your best not to wiggle a bit in anticipation. Dancing spaghetti would ruin the prank.

               “Uh, thanks Paps.” Sans answered. The magic around you tensed slightly as one of the chairs scraped against the floor. You drew your knees against your chest and took a deep breath. Your stomach lurched as the magic made you pop out of the spaghetti like a cork, suspending you a foot above it and only a few inches from the face of a startled skeleton.

               “SURPRISE!” You and Papyrus yelled at the same time, his voice easily drowning out your own. The shorter, rounder skeleton jerked back with a cry of surprise. The chair legs caught his own, and with a yelp he crashed to the ground.

               “Sans!” Papyrus’ magic disappeared as he rushed around the table to check on his brother. You dropped back towards the spaghetti and were only saved from a painful noodle-y bath by an odd-feeling hand catching you.

               A third skeleton – tall, thin, wearing a nice turtleneck – had saved you from the Italian meal. His face was smooth and white like his sons, but there was a crack moving upwards from his right eye and trailing down from his left eye to the corner of his mouth. You glanced down at his hand and realized why it felt odd – there was a hole right in the middle of it!

               “Apologies,” the skeleton said, his deep voice rolling over you like a cloud. “My sons can overreact when startled.” He set you on the table beside his plate, making sure you were steady before placing both hands beneath his chin and his elbows on the table, leaning forward slightly so he could see you better.

               “It’s alright, sir.” You reassured him, glancing at the other side of the table. Papyrus was bent over his brother, babbling worriedly at a million miles an hour.

               “So, would I be correct in assuming that Papyrus has brought you home to be a pet for Sans?” He asked, eyes flickering between his sons and you.

               You nodded, not a fan of the term ‘pet’ but lots of monsters used it without meaning anything by it. “Yeah, he mentioned his brother has been sad lately.” There was a thunk as said brother smacked his head against the edge of the table as he tried to get up. Papyrus whined in surprise and knelt back down to assist his brother.

               “Indeed,” Gaster’s eyes crinkled at the edge (somehow – bone wasn’t supposed to move that way, was it?) as he watched his sons interact. “Sans suffers from depression,” he confided in you, “and often has negative mood swings.” He was very clinical in the way he spoke, though there was a warmth in his voice that showed the affection he had for his sons. “Papyrus spoke of finding a way to cheer him up, but I did not expect him to bring a Reader home.”

               You frowned suddenly, struck with a rather daunting thought. “Um, that’s okay, right?” Biting your bottom lip, you glanced up at him nervously. He was their father, right? Sans and Papyrus seemed to be adults, but this was probably their dads house. That meant he had final say on if you stayed, right?

               “Yes, child, that is perfectly fine,” he was quick to reassure you, noting your nervous expression. “There is always room in this house for one more.” He cast you a quick wink, then glanced over as his sons finally managed to find their feet. You shot him a quick smile then ran across the table, dodging past the serving bowls and cups, to stand beside Sans plate.

               The skeleton was shorter than Papyrus by a good bit, and had a wide, squat face with large eyes and a bright smile that, at the moment, looked a bit dazed. His eyes met yours and he simply stared for a moment, giving you an unsure smile. “Uh, hi.”

               “Hello!” You chirped, waving happily and flashing him your biggest grin.

               “Hi.” He repeated, before turning to glance up at his brother. “You…?”

               “I got them for you!” Papyrus was bouncing in place, looking delighted with himself before sobering.

               “Right. Can I talk to you for a sec?” He grabbed his brothers arm and, with surprising strength for his height, dragged him out of the kitchen.

               Behind them, your heart sunk into your stomach, and you sat down hard on the side of his plate. This was not a…complication you had thought of. Being bought as a gift was risky, but none of the Readers you’d known that had been gifted had ever been returned. Rivet would never allow them to be adopted in the first place if that was a risk.

               Muffled voices (a truly shocking feat, from what you had seen from Papyrus so far) hissed from the far side of the living room, too soft for you to make out any words. Oh god, what if Sans didn’t want you? He didn’t seem happy about this at all – what if he took you back? Had you done something wrong? Was popping out of the spaghetti too mean? Had you offended him some way?

               By the time the two brothers returned, both were much calmer than before. Papyrus seemed a bit chastised, but gave you a bright smile before taking his seat and serving himself some spaghetti. Sans righted his chair and plopped down in it, then slumped down, resting his chin on his arms so he was at eye-level with you.

               “Sorry, kiddo,” he gave you a large grin, “You gave me a bit of a fright – really rattled my bones.”

               “I’m sorry,” relief swept through you, making you feel a bit giddy, and you returned his smile. “Papyrus just wanted to get you a little gift, to help you feel less bonely.”

               He snorted, the air ruffling your clothing and hair. His breath smelled like ketchup and French fries. Behind you, Papyrus groaned (muffled by his mouthful of spaghetti) but Gaster let out a soft laugh.

               “Good one, kiddo,” he laughed, the bones in his jaw and around his eyes relaxing. “I’m Sans. Sans the skeleton. But I think you already knew that.” He held his hand out, offering a finger for you to shake. You accepted it, shaking it firmly as best you could.

               “I’m pleased to meet you, Sans.” You peeped happily.

               “Likewise.” He sat up straighter and dished himself some spaghetti, noting that the other two had already started eating. You sat at the edge of his plate as he smothered it in tomato sauce, watching him. “So, I’ve never really, uh, met a Reader before. Do you like pasta?”

               You smiled as he cut up a few pieces of noodle into small bites and pushed them towards you, so they rested within reach of you. “I like pasta,” you confirmed. “Especially special friendship spaghetti, cooked by the Great Papyrus!” You picked up one of the warm noodles and dipped it in a bit of sauce before munching on it.

               “Nyeh heh! I am glad you like it, Reader!” Papyrus had already cleaned his plate and was giving himself a half-serving for seconds.

               “It is very good, Papyrus.” Gaster complimented his son, also nearly finished. You watched curiously as they ate, noting that despite not having lips they were all able to slurp the noodles and flick sauce over their cheeks and nose.

               “Thank you, father!” Papyrus began on his second helping. “So what did you do in the lab today?”

               “Ah, we have found a fascinating connection between SOUL energy and plant growth…”

               You listened as Gaster and Sans described an experiment they had run that day, altering the DNA of an echo flower so it worked more like a recording machine, able to remember and echo many messages instead of just one. Most of it was completely lost on you, but as they spoke Sans brightened, lost in the technical mumbo-jumbo he and his father were spitting back and forth across the table. Papyrus looked just as confused but happy non-the-less as he had a third helping of pasta.

               After the four of you had eaten your fill, Gaster gathered up the dishes, insisting he would wash them since Papyrus cooked. The tall skeleton rushed off to the living room, yelling something about a Mettaton marathon. Sans dragged himself away from the table and glanced down at you.

               “Get enough to eat, pipsqueak?” He asked, voice light and teasing. You nodded and stood, brushing parmesan cheese off your lap. He stood in front of you, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie for a moment, looking unsure for a moment. When you realized why he seemed nervous, you raised your arms up towards him.

               “Uh, heh, I’m not really, uh – I don’t want to hurt you.” He rubbed the back of his head, and you grinned.

               “You won’t hurt me,” you insisted, smiling at his hesitance. “It’s okay, I promise. Us Readers are really durable!”

               He still twitched for a moment before biting the bullet and reaching out with both hands. One hand was set behind you, palm up, and you easily sat down, legs dangling over the edge of his boney pinky. Slowly – oh so slowly, ridiculously so, but you didn’t tell him that – he lifted you off the table, bringing you straight up against his chest to minimize the chances of you taking a dive.

               “What do you wanna do?” Sans asked, still standing awkwardly in the kitchen, as though afraid to move. You shrugged, leaning against his ribs, tugging at the squishy layer of his jacket curiously.

               “Whatever you want!” You kicked your legs a bit. Sans huffed a soft laugh.

               “Don’t suppose you’re ready for bed, huh?”

               “I could sleep,” you reassured him. “Getting adopted is really tiring.”

               He let out a bark of laugh and carefully left the kitchen, walking slowly. This babying was, at the same time, incredibly annoying and delightfully sweet. “I bet it is,” he shuffled across the living room, where Papyrus was sitting on the edge of the couch, watching the large TV with big, sparkling sockets.

               “SANS! READER!” He boomed, bouncing a bit in his seat, “Do you wish to join me?” He motioned to the TV.

               “Nah, bro. Me ‘n’ the pipsqueak are gonna go bond.” Sans winked at him before starting up the stairs.

               “Good!” Papyrus waved you both off with a thumbs up before going back to drooling over the robot.

               There were three bedrooms upstairs, and one small bathroom (no toilet, just a shower and sink). Sans went to the middle door along the hall and threw it open dramatically.

               “Welcome, pipsqueak, to scenic my room!”

               His room was – well, it was a bedroom, most likely. There were socks and trash spread across the floor, some of them twirling in a self-sustaining tornado. A lamp with a flashlight taped to the bulb was set on a dresser that had seen better days. Opposite the dresser was a mattress on the floor, no bedframe in sight.

               “Sorry about the mess,” Sans sounded a bit embarrassed as he kicked some trash into the tornado before shuffling over to the bed. With his free hand he spread some blue-tinted magic over the bed, smoothing out the sheets that had been balled up and messily tucking them into place. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

               You scratched at the back of your head and shot him a small grin. “Sorry,” you felt compelled to apologize. “I know you didn’t ask for a Reader, but Papyrus really did just want to help you.”

               “No need to say sorry, pipsqueak.” He sat on the bed carefully to keep you from bouncing, before laying back so his head plopped down on the pillow. You ended up laying on his sternum after a bit of maneuvering, stretching out on your stomach and resting your head on your arms so you could look up at him. He shifted the pillow a bit and put his hands behind his head so he was able to peer down at you. A lazy grin stretched across his teeth and you returned it. “Hey, I just realized, I didn’t ask your name.”

               That startled a laugh out of you. “I don’t have one. Most Readers don’t. Sometimes when Miss Hart gives one of us a nickname it sticks, but I never got one.”

               “Huh,” Sans raised one boney brow. “Well, what do you want to be called?”

               You shrugged, having never really thought of naming yourself before. “I dunno. You can call me whatever you want.”

               Sans’ eyes drooped a bit, looking heavy and tired as he thought. “Hmm. I may need a few days to think of a good name for you.” He winked.

               “A few days? You’re a real lazybones aren’t you?” You teased gently, remembering what Papyrus had said about his big brother’s awful sense of humor.

               A surprised laugh boomed through his chest, shaking his sternum and, by extension, you. You fisted your hands in his sweatshirt to keep from rolling off his chest.

               “I do like to laze around. In fact, sleep comes so naturally to me, I could do it with my eyes closed.” He shut his eyes as he said it, his smile stretching as you giggled.

               “Heh, don’t you ever get tired of sleeping?” You prodded.

               “Nah, sleeping all day is my dream job.”

               “Hey, what do you call a parent who sings their kids to sleep?”


               “A kid napper!”

               “Hah! What do you call a cat sleeping in a sunbeam?”


               “A light sleeper!”

               You could almost hear Papyrus groaning as you and Sans exchanged jokes. Despite him seeming hesitant to keep you as a companion earlier, you and him managed to keep the line of jokes going for nearly half-an-hour before he began to snore, hands falling to his sides. He didn’t roll over at least, and soon after his breathing slowed to gentle rolls of his sternum and ribs. The odd rocking sensation was relaxing, and it didn’t take very long for you to join him in dreamland.


               Sans woke to an odd little weight on his chest that wasn’t supposed to be there. His jaw cracked as he yawned and blinked the sleep from his sockets. Just before he sat up to stretch, the weight on his chest moved. He froze and glanced down, eyes widening slightly as he remembered the previous night.

               The reader on his chest, clad in a too-big silver sweater and jeans, was curled into a cute little ball, fast asleep, one hand fisted in his jacket, the other tucked under their head. They were breathing in time with him, inhaling whenever his ribs raised, and exhaling whenever they dipped. It was a very odd, yet comforting feeling.

               He still couldn’t believe Papyrus had gone out and gotten him a Reader. Hadn’t he ever heard that giving pets as gifts was one of the worst ideas ever? There were entire articles on it! True, those mostly revolved around puppies at Christmas and bunnies at Easter, but aside from sentience Readers were the same thing!

               Then again, that sentience was what made them such wonderful pets and companions. They weren’t simple animals with a need for food, shelter, affection – they were complex beings with advanced thought patterns and an understanding of metacognition and a strong sense of self. He’d met a few around the lab when they accompanied their monsters for the day (they would never test on a Reader – Alpha Asgore would have all their heads on a silver platter if anybody even thought of that, if Alpha Toriel didn’t dust them all first), but he’d never had a true one-on-one conversation or held one himself before. He was too lazy to do that.

               So he’d been understandably (though perhaps a bit excessively) annoyed when Papyrus had sprung the little thing on him. Honestly, popping out of spaghetti – the jape just screamed Papyrus. While having their whispered tête-à-tête in the living room, he’d demanded to know just what his little brother had been thinking.

               “You’re getting sad again, Sans,” Papyrus had whispered, torn between guilt and annoyance. “I can see it – your smile has gone all fake again, like when we were Underground! Nothing father or I have tried has helped cheer you up. We love you, Sans.” He’d rested his big, gloved hands on the smaller skeletons shoulders, “We want you to be happy. I truly think having a Reader will help.”

               When Sans still didn’t look convinced, Papyrus whipped out his smartphone. “Wait, look here. I did research, see!” He showed Sans the screen; it was loaded to a mental health website, specifically on an article connecting higher levels of serotonin to owning pets. “And the Reader I found for you, they’re what’s called a Companion type!” He flipped to another tab, showing a gray sweater with a list of traits beside it.

               “Please, Sans,” Papyrus pocketed his phone again, “I have a good feeling in my SOUL. It’s been there ever since I had this idea. I really think this will work.”

               Sans had sighed beneath the weight of his brother’s words and agreed to get to know the Reader. Obviously his brother had good taste – they’d kept up with him joke-for-joke, pun-for-pun, before he’d fallen asleep in the middle of a punchline. Apparently they were also just as much of a lazy-bones as he was – a glance at the clock on his dressed showed it was nearly noon. They’d slept for almost eighteen hours. Thank god it was Saturday, and he didn’t have to go into work.

               Sans laid his head back and began running a finger over the Readers head, not wanting to wake them, but at the same time needing a good dose of ketchup to get his day started.


               You woke to a finger running over your head, coaxing you from your rest. You lazily lifted your head and smiled up at the round-faced skeleton you’d fallen asleep on.

               “Mornin’, pipsqueak,” he greeted with a large smile on his face. You yawned and sat up, stretching your arms over your head.

               “Mornin’, bighead.” You returned, then realized what you’d said. “Er, I mean, uh-“

               The skeleton snorted in laughter, cutting off your apology. He cupped a hand around you as you sat up, allowing you to fall back slightly and sit comfortably in his palm as he got off his bed. “You’ve got me there, pipsqueak. C’mon, let’s grab some lunch”

               “What about breakfast?” You asked. He shifted so you were seated on his shoulder, comfortably relaxed where his clavicle dipped.

               “We slept through it.” He explained, leaving the messy room and making sure the door shut behind him. The other two doors were open – his father and brother were already up and about, apparently.

               You held onto his jacket as he meandered down the stairs and through the living room, heading for the kitchen. “So, what do you want to do today?” He asked.

               It seemed his lazy attitude was contagious – you just shrugged and leaned against his puffy hood, which was bunched up around his shoulders a bit, creating a perfect resting spot.

               “Heh,” Sans chuckled and went straight to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of ketchup, which he promptly uncapped and drank. You wrinkled up your nose and stuck your tongue out at the sight. “What, not a fan of the sauce?”

               “Nah,” you quipped, “I don’t have the stomach for it.” He chuckled, the vibes reverberating through his chest and shaking you a bit where you sat.

               “True, it is a unique taste.” A luminescent blue tongue licked over his teeth, catching the stray drops of ketchup on his bones. “Jokes aside, what do you want to eat?”

               You pointed to the white bag sitting on the counter, where Papyrus had placed it when you arrived last night. “There’s some snacks for me in there,” you explained.

               Sans took the bag over to the table and poured it out. The pamphlet on Proper Reader Care flopped out first, followed by all the treats the shelter owner had packed for you. The skeleton whistled and set you down on the table. “Heh, and here I was worried you’d only brought the clothes on your back.”

You dug through the stack of supplies, pulling out the few bags of treats the shelter owner had packed. There was a bag of Muffet’s cookies, a box of flavored chips from Grillby’s, and a variety of monster candy and snacks. You popped open the chips and munched on them as Sans continued sipping his ketchup.

“So what do you normally do on Saturday?” You asked around a bite of the BBQ flavored snack.

Sans shrugged. “Sleep,” he admitted, “or hang out with Paps or Alphys.” He had finished about half of the bottle now, and got up to put it back in the fridge.

“Exciting stuff,” you commented as he came back.

“Yep,” he agreed, retaking his seat and slumping back, hands on his stomach, as he looked at you with lidded eyes. “We appear to be two very exciting people.”

               “No bones about it.” You agreed, feeling a bit proud as he snorted with laughter.

               “Heh, good one pipsqueak. So, lazy day in?”

               You licked salt off your fingers as you agreed. “Lazy day in.”

               Several hours later Papyrus arrived home and lambasted you both for being lazy, as well as marathoning his TIVO’d episodes of the hilarious dating show ‘Would You Smooch A Ghost?’ without him. He was all bark and no bite, though, and by the end he simply sighed and stomped off to the kitchen to make lasagna.

               Sans seemed happy enough with the lambasting, and when he went into the kitchen to help Papyrus with something (leaving you on the couch cheering for the cute bunny and reptile couple in Royal Guard armor), you could hear him speaking softly and affectionately to his brother. Just as the applause for the kissing royal guard couple tapered off, you heard the older brother quietly thanking his brother for finding you.

               A proud smile crossed your lips, and you hummed happily as Sans returned and plopped you back on his stomach to watch the next episode.


               You and Sans bonded over bad puns and a shared love of hamburgers. He took you with him to work a few times, when he and Gaster weren’t dealing with chemicals or running experiments. You sat on his desk as he filled out paperwork, sometimes distracting him with spontaneous tic-tac-toe games, other times just reading some science books from his shelves. It was a bit daunting, having to stand on the pages to read, and flipping the pages was a bit of a hassle, but his astronomy and joke books kept you both entertained for hours on end.

               On days you couldn’t go to the Royal Labs you hung out with Papyrus, discussing Italian cuisine and watching Mettaton marathons. When Papyrus had work you enjoyed exploring the house, challenging yourself by climbing to the top of the couch or playing in the kitchen. At least until you accidently shut yourself in the fridge and Papyrus came home to a Reader-scicle. A quick warm bath and a lecture later, and you were banned from the kitchen when they weren’t home. Sans thought it was hilarious, of course – he made ice and snow puns for several days afterwards.

               Gaster stole you sometimes, whisking you away to his office on the first floor, just to chat while Sans napped. He tried to teach you to play chess – it was a bit difficult since the pieces were the same height as you, but once you got the hang of it, you…still couldn’t beat him.

               Most of the time, though, you were with Sans, riding on his shoulder or in his hood, sleeping on his chest, or exchanging puns and jokes (much to the annoyance of those around you). While he was often tired and did sleep a lot, you never noticed him being overtly sad or obviously upset.

               That’s why the nightmare was such a surprise. One moment you were asleep on his chest, dreaming about accompanying Papyrus to an Italy made entirely out of pasta and bread sticks, the next you were jarred awake by hitting the mattress. It had happened a few times – Sans slept like a brick, rarely moving, but you had rolled off his ribs a few times during the night. It wasn’t painful, just sudden. This, though – this felt more like you’d been pushed or thrown off his chest.

               The big-boned skeleton was thrashing in the sheets, his legs tangled, arms flailing, a blue glow curling up from his left eye. You scrambled away from the tossing and turning body, nearly losing your head when his elbow came too close. Luckily, you were able to reach the pillow with all limbs intact. Thanks to your time climbing around the couch and kitchen (when supervised), you easily scrambled up the cotton pillowcase and crawled across the plush surface to Sans head.

               You were on his left side, and the magic leeching through his socket sent an odd chill over your skin. For a moment you hesitated, not entirely sure what to do, but a pained whine from between the skeletons clenched teeth spurred you on. Inching forward, you moved to sit right beside his head and, with trembling fingers, began to gently stroke his cheek bone.

               Sans jolted at the sudden (if small) contact, but luckily he didn’t lash out. You continued to pet his cheek, running your hand in a line before switching to rubbing circles along the arch of the bone. Absently you began to hum, the same soft tune Papyrus sometimes did in the kitchen when he was cooking. You didn’t know what the song was, or even if you were loud enough for Sans to hear you, but miraculously the skeleton began to calm down.

               You kept petting and humming for what felt like hours, though surely was only twenty or thirty minutes. You had to switch arms halfway through, the muscles in the one having gone sore from the repetitive motion. Just as your other arm was about to give out, the flickering magic of Sans left eye (which had been dying down steadily for the past half-hour) went out, and he lazily opened his sockets to reveal his pupils. They shifted to you, and very slowly he turned his head so you were both eye-to-eye.

               “Pipsqueak?” He asked sleepily, reaching up to rub at his now magicless eye tiredly. “What’re you doing up here? Heh, get bonely down on my hoodie?”

               You ran your hand along the bone just above his nose cavity, as though petting a dog with a big muzzle. “You had a nightmare,” you explained.

               “Yeah, I uh, get those sometimes.” You swore you could see tears beading the bottom of his sockets, but he blinked them away before you could be sure. “I don’t normally wake up before they end, though…” His teeth lifted in a smile. “Guess I have you ‘n’ your pretty humming to thank for that.” His hand slid over to brush a finger over your bedhead. “Sorry for wakin’ ya up, kid.”

               “It’s okay, Sans.” You reassured him, standing to lean forward and press a kiss between his eyes. A blue blush crossed his cheeks as he carefully rolled over, so he was on his side, facing you.

               His eyes were still heavy with sleep. “Think you can sleep a few more hours?” He asked, even as the lids began to fall.

               “Yeah,” you flopped down onto the pillow beside his head, giving him the same half-lidded stare he was giving you. His hand came up to lay over you, warm bones better than any blanket.

               “Night, Pipsqueak.” Sans shut his eyes all the way and within moments, he was breathing deeply, fast asleep.

               “Night Sans,” you whispered back, grinning and hugging his pointer finger like a teddy bear, hoping the touch would keep any lingering nightmares away. It must have worked – the rest of the night passed peacefully.

Thanks for all the questions and ideas! I’m working on putting together a infograph about the Itty Bitty Reader AU, please let me know if you have any questions so I can try and answer them! I’d also love to hear any ideas - not a promise to write them, of course, but I enjoy inspiration!


Been inactive for a bit, that stupid job and schedule have not let me hobby in a while, let alone work on that Alarielle as much or as well as I wanted to; so I scrapped that idea and am not entering the mini competition this year. I have managed this week to squeeze in some hobby time and restarted the gorilla, this is the fastest I’ve ever done skin, and it looks way better with my new skin method.


1/150 都電社區夜景, 1/150 N scale: the night view of railway community

辛苦接燈, 焊線, 再把高中所學的基本電學複習一遍。



I try to review my study in high school to make these led lights.  When the lights turn on, the dioramas become more real and has its own life.

Happy modeling!