#underswap bros

I got myself the 'To the bone' zine a while ago, which included some coloring pages, and I wanted to practice coloring, so perfect time to use them.

So here it is, the coloring page was made by @inkz123

I think it turned out pretty good,

there are still some mistakes here and there, but overall, i am very happy with how this one turned out.

Oh and for anyone who is interested in how this looks without shade and just the flats, I'll put that beneath a -read more line-

THANK YOU GRAY FIRST ASK FROM GRAY

SWAP SANS/BLUE - blue unintentionally (and sometimes intentionally) spends his free time working and being productive a lot- he can always find something to do.

cleaning up, making food, and also seemingly pointless things- havent organised the bookshelves in a while, better do that! oh i just made a drink but i could sure use another one for when that runs out, and how about another backup for that one? he's used to being busy, so a lot of the time he just does that automatically- he also genuinely enjoys both being productive and the satisfied feeling he gets after doing so

but when he's NOT he loves fnaf, especially security breach, he loves collecting all the little gifts- he also just enjoys video games in general, but ones with challenging things to do and to make, like minecraft and skyrim

he also enjoys hanging out with error, orange and any other friends who may want to, even if he's doing the above mentioned things at the same time with them or in their company

SWAP PAPS/ORANGE - orange generally likes to just lounge around or create little things to trick and mess with his bro.

he likes scrolling through videos on his phone, he gets addicted to stupid little apps like candy crush (though will he admit that? no. he has full control. obviously. shut up.)

and as for trolling blue he'll just stick a hundred pictures of rick astley around their house- in the fridge, in the cupboard, inside the tv????? somehow?????

i also think when he has energy and time he likes doing little tasks around the underground for people- reading stories to kids, helping muffet bake, all that stuff

i didn’t realize i hadn’t posted my gals!!

Stretch is still on his mission, but the weather's taken a turn for the worse. Uh, this isn't going to be anything like Undyne's fanfiction, will it? Cause that would be awkward.

Tags: Plot Forwarding, Slice of Life, Preparing for a Blizzard, We meet Alphys :D, Spicyhoney

ao3 link

my kofi if you wanna give me a pep up ^^ my patreon if you wanna support what I do <3

Mr. Blue was back. Again.

You glared at him from the safety of the top floor of the Yellow House, nose pressed against the windowsill, only your eyes and the top of your head visible. The skeleton was talking to Rivet, who was sitting at her desk trying to get through some paperwork. He was waving his arms around, cheeks flushed and eyes narrowed, but wasn’t yelling - you couldn’t hear what he was saying from here.

And here was where you would stay until he was gone. The skeleton had been coming in every afternoon for the past week, desperately trying to talk to you. Rivet and Sweets had distracted him, reminding him that the Pen was off-limits (last Saturday had been a one-time thing). His amazingly-tall brother had come in the first day as well, slouched in an orange hoodie and looking ready to take a nap standing up. Despite the heavy lids, his eyes had been sharp enough to pick out your nose pressed against the glass of the Yellow House window, and after registering your intense glare he’d had the good grace to look away in discomfort.

You’d found being angry was easier than being afraid. When you were afraid, your emotions were out of your control - worry and despair cutting off any chance of rational thought as adrenaline took over, demanding immediate flight from whatever the threat was. Anger let you be in control - if you were angry at the threat, then you didn’t have room to be afraid. So, from a distance, you drew up as much anger as your little body possessed, and aimed it squarely at Mr. Blue and his brother.

The brother - Sweets called him Stretch once, was that his name? It was as good as any other - didn’t come back again, and you congratulated yourself on having such a fearsome glare. Mr. Blue returned every afternoon, however, alone now and with an apologetic slump to his shoulders each time. Beneath the weak shoulders, however, was a burning determination to write his wrong. He was nearly desperate to apologize to you in person - if you hadn’t been petrified at the thought of being within five feet of him, you’d have admired his tenacity.

Today he had something clutched in his hand and was gesturing wildly with it as he spoke. Rivet and Sweets both looked interested, nodding along with what he was saying up until the thing slipped from his grip and smacked the deer in the face. Her nose wrinkled and her ears folded back against her head in displeasure, but she picked up the item and examined it, ignoring what looked like Mr. Blue’s babbled apologies. She interrupted him to ask something, and he immediately brightened up and leaned closer, talking faster and with more gesticulating than before. After a moment, Rivet nodded and gave the black square to Sweets, who gave a jaunty salute and began hauling it off the desk. The deer laughed and gave her a lift down, placing her on the floor and out of your line of sight.

You ducked away from the window as both Rivet and Mr. Blue looked over at the Pen, feeling too tired to bring up the energy to glare. Being angry took more energy than being scared - when you were scared, it happened naturally, a flood of adrenaline fueling your fight-or-flight response. But when you were angry, you had to choose to be angry, choose to expend your energy on being upset, choose to glare and huff and sneer and throw angry words around. It was exhausting.

Knowing that Sweets would be along soon with the mysterious black square, you sat on your edge of the doll bed and picked at the corner of the quilt that covered it. It was quiet and safe in your little room, and you took a few deep breaths to center yourself. Sweets had suggested using meditation when you were upset, but it didn’t do much good when you couldn’t ‘center’ yourself in the first place.

In no time Sweets was there, dragging the black thing behind her, face flushed and sweaty. “Delivery!” She called out in a cheerful voice, despite her rosy cheeks. “Straight from Mr. Blue to you!” With one last heft, she dragged it into the room and let it drop to the carpeted floor. You craned your neck and peered down at the thin, black rectangle of plastic and glass.

It was a phone - one of those smartphones that had a touch screen and no keyboard, with the power and volume buttons on the side. It was nearly as tall as Sweets, making it all the more impressive that she had managed to lug it all this way. When she dropped it the screen blinked to life, revealing a picture of a meadow with a tree, and a clock reading “6:50” over a line of text saying ‘Slide up to unlock.’

“A...phone?” You stood and bent over the device, noting that there was no battery or signal indicator. A monster phone, then - one that didn’t need to be charged and that ran on magic.

“Yep!” Sweets put her hands on her hips and blew some sweaty hair out of her face. “Blue got it for you.”

“...Why?” You tried to wrap your head around the idea. Having regained her breath, Sweets shifted the phone, carefully propping it up on the wall next to the window. She unlocked it with a sweep of her hand, revealing the home screen. There were a few small squares with different names - ‘Contacts,’ ‘Undernet,’ ‘Camera,’ ‘Face-Snap,’ and two folders. One was labeled ‘Pictures’ and the other ‘Games.’

“He said,” Sweets huffed, adjusting the screen so it was only slightly tilted, “it was to better apologize to you.” The camera, which was in the middle of the top of the phone, lit up when she pressed the little blue button with a white camera outline on it. The screen went black, but a quick press of a button that had the same camera picture with a turning arrow under it revealed the inside of the room, creating a perfect mirror of the bed, Sweets, and you. Grinning, Sweets pressed the screen again, and with a flash the picture was burned into the phones memory.

“I don’t want him to apologize,” you huffed, wrinkling your face at the bright light, “I want him to go away.”

“He’s not going to go away until he apologizes. He’s very determined.” There was weight behind that word, the way she said it, though neither of you knew why. “Just let him say sorry over the phone.” She peeked out the window and flashed someone a thumbs up. A moment later the phone let out a loud jingle, and the mirror image of the room was replaced with the symbol for the Face-Snap app (half camera-motif, half smiley-face). INCOMING FACE-SNAP FROM BLUE SERIF, the screen announced, and without waiting Sweets smashed her hand against the green ‘accept’ icon.

The screen went blue for a moment, before it was adjust to reveal Mr. Blue’s smiling visage as the phone was drawn back to a proper distance. Behind him was the inside of the shop part of the shelter - he was sitting on one of the couches by the Reader changing rooms. The shelter was a non-profit (as Rivet’s terrible ramen habit would attest), but there were several monsters in the community who made clothing and furniture that was Reader-sized and sold it through the shelter. There were shelves of clothing, tools, furniture, vitamins, and toiletries, all fit for their tiny bodies. After some Monsters complained about having to stand while their picky Readers took hours picking what they wanted, the deer had invested in a pair of comfy couches for Monsters to use. Mr. Blue was sitting cross-legged on one of these, and as you watched he turned so he was sitting sideways on the couch and perched the phone on the top of the nearest shelf, bringing him to ‘eye-level’ with you and Sweets.

“Hello!” He greeted cheerily, sitting back and dropping his hands into his lap. You hadn’t noticed it before, but his blue irises were shaped like soft, rounded stars.

“Hi Mr. Blue!” Sweets waved cheerily, dropping to sit beside you on the bed. “The phone works perfectly!”

“That’s good!” Mr. Blue bounced a bit where he sat, the stars growing even brighter. “I was worried the touch screen wouldn’t react to your fingers!”

“Well, I had to use my whole hand, but it works. That’s what’s important!” The two shared large grins, before Mr. Blue’s attention shifted to you. His expression softened to one that could only be explained as ‘hangdog.’

“Hello,” he greeted again, his voice much softer, and you realized something that nearly took your breath away. You were facing - interacting! - with a monster, a giant being of magic and unfathomable strength, and you weren’t afraid. You were nervous, sure, but you were always nervous when meeting new people. Even other Readers made you nervous when they wanted to engage in small talk! Nervous - not terrified, not panicked, not crying and blacking out and suffocating on your own innumerous fears. Butterflies in the stomach. Worry over saying something embarrassing. Normal nerves.

Without thinking you leaned to the side, trying to peek out the window and see if you could spot the monster on the couch, but Sweets wrapped an arm around your shoulder and tugged you back, forcing you to focus on the screen. Mr. Blue sat patiently, still smiling at you both, stars dancing in his eyes. Swallowing your absolutely-normal social nerves, you nodded to him and let out a quiet “Hi.”

His visage immediately brightened, skull lighting up in delight. “Hello!” He said again, with more enthusiasm, smile stretching even further across his face. “I’m Sans Serif, but everybody calls me Blue because there’s a lot of Sans up here and it would be confusing if we all went by Sans and since Sans got up here first - Alpha Sans I mean - he gets to keep his name while the rest of us have nicknames but that’s okay because I like the name Blue. Blue is one of my favorite colors, after all! But my brother likes orange. His name is Papyrus by the way, but everybody calls him Stretch because-”

Sweets cleared her throat, trying to get the rambling skeleton back on track, and had to do it a few times to get him to calm down. He trailed off, and a brilliant blue blush covered his cheeks.

“Oops, I guess I got a little carried away, huh?”

Sweets gave him a patient smile and squeezed your shoulder, her arm still around you. “Wasn’t there something you wanted to say?” She coaxed.

“Oh, right!” Mr. Blue went from beaming to ashamed in barely a second. “Um, oh shoot, I don’t know you name…”

“I don’t have one,” you answered, used to the question from other Readers. Names were given by owners, and you didn’t have an owner. Rivet sometimes named the Readers that stuck around for a long time, but you hadn’t been given one, despite living in the shelter for three months.

Mr. Blue gave you an odd look, but steamrolled ahead. “Oh-kay, well, little green Reader, I wanted to apologize.” He moved so he was sitting on his knees, looking solemnly at the camera. “I’m very, very sorry for scaring you last week! I should have known better to approach you, and I definitely should have read the sweater pamphlet more thoroughly instead of charging in like a - like a bonehead.” He grimaced at the pun and Sweets smirked (you had no doubt she had helped him script part of this apology, and had thrown that phrase in as punishment). “I’m sorry I made you feel unsafe, and I promise to never come near you if you don’t want me to again.”

Sincerity shone in every line of his face, and after a moment’s thought you found yourself nodding, accepting his soul-felt words. “Okay,” you muttered, voice quiet.

Sparkles of magic appeared around Mr. Blue’s face, and the stars in his eyes grew bigger than before. “Really?” You nodded, and he began swaying in his seat, looking like he wanted to jump up and down. “Oh wowie, I’m so glad, I was worried you would hate me forever! I’m so happy!”

You gave Sweets a questioning look, but she just shrugged and looked equally pleased. “I told you, Blue, they’re too nice to hate anybody!” She tugged on your sleeve. “After all, the root of green is kindness!”

“Mweh-heh-heh! You’re right! And now we can talk every day!”

You stiffened, and having her arm around you, Sweets notice. “Maybe not every day, Blue. But what if you called a few times a week? I’m sure they’d love to chat with you every once in a while.” The pink Reader ignored your questioning look. “After all, you must have plenty of amazing stories, being the vice captain of the Swap Royal Guard!”

“That I do! Plenty of amazing, daring, heroic stories of heroism and strength!” Blue stood on the couch, putting one fist to his chest, the other on his hip, and loudly laughed - you could hear it not just from the phone, but through the walls of the doll house. The phone’s camera was wide enough that it caught Rivet appearing behind the bouncy skeleton, grimacing at the sight of dirty boots on her upholstery and the disruptive noise he was making. Sweets made a quiet, delighted little ‘oh no!’ sound beside you - she was always one for drama.

“Mr. Blue,” Rivet crossed her arms and glared at the skeleton, “While I am very pleased you have made friends with one of my Readers, I am going to ask you to remove your boots from my couch.”

The skeleton blushed once more, in embarrassment this time, and quickly dropped to sit on the couch, boots dangling over the edge. “Sorry, Miss Rivet,” he shot a rueful look to the phone, the pliable bone above his nose-hole wrinkling when he saw Sweets giggling at him. “I just got excited.”

“Well, you need to get excited elsewhere for now. It’s six, and I need to close up and get everybody their dinner. It’s pizza night - you don’t want to see what will happen when fifty-six Reader’s are delayed getting their pizza.” The deer’s expression softened and she winked at the skeleton.

“I would not want to stand in the way of pizza, even if tacos are the superior food!” Blue beamed at her, then turned back to the phone. “I will talk to you both soon!”

“How about Thursday?” Sweets suggested, while beside her you mouthed ‘again?’ to yourself.

“Thursday it is!” Blue beamed. “I will see you both then!” He waved, and Sweets gave a little wave back. You copied her, though still confused. The skeleton reached up for his phone, filling the screen with blue once again, and cut the call. Sweets kept her arm around you until the bell above the door jingled, followed by the sound of the lock turning.

“Well, that went better than expected!” The compassionate Reader finally released you and flopped back on the bed with a huff.

“Doesn’t he need his phone back?” You asked, standing and poking at the now-black screen. The date and time popped up, ‘6:01’ beaming back at you, and a feeling of amazement took the place of confusion. You’d had a ten-minute conversation! With a monster!

“Nah, it’s one of his old phones, he said.” Sweets had sat back up and was watching you, beaming. “He brought it for you.”

“...me?”

“You!” She giggled and threw her arms around you. “I’m so proud of you for talking to him!”

Blushing, you reached up and hugged one of her arms to yourself. “I only said, like, two words.”

“Which is two more than you’ve said before!” She squeezed, then released you and jumped to her feet. “Blue is going to call every other day now, and you can talk to him as much or as little as you want. It’s called exposure therapy.”

“...he’s going to be naked?”

Sweets let out a delighted laugh, and you realized it was the first time you’d made a joke around her.

“No!” She pulled you up, off the bed, and led you from your room. “Unless you’re into that…” You blushed, going as pink as her sweater, and she laughed again and led you down the stairs. “Honey, I think we just figured out how to help you get over your fears! Now c’mon, it’s pizza night!”

She led you from the Yellow House, towards the Readers gathered and waiting for their favorite dinner of the week, and for once didn’t mind becoming part of the group. You were too busy thinking of starry eyes and patient smiles to worry.

Blue called again on Thursday, at seven o’clock exactly. You were laying on your bed, reading a book from the little library. The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin. It was a weird murder-mystery, and you couldn’t figure out if the character Turtle was a human with the nickname Turtle, or an actual turtle-type monster. She could be a Woshua, but you’d never met one with a single pigtail before…

The phone chimed, the Face-Snap app appearing on the formerly black screen, with the line ‘INCOMING FACE-SNAP FROM BLUE SERIF’ flashing beneath it. You jumped, losing your place in the book, and frantically looked around for Sweets. The pink Reader was nowhere to be seen, however - she was likely helping some other Readers with their evening chores, or reading with the book club that met every Tuesday and Thursday evening. This left you alone, with a monster calling on the phone. It was up to you to answer it.

Or I could just let it ring…

You thought of the first time he’d called, how you hadn’t been relaxed but hadn’t been terrified. You’d had social-butterflies in your stomach, but had overall enjoyed the conversation (even if it was mostly him apologizing, despite you not needing one). You thought of how novel it was, to face a monster and hold a conversation, not run away screaming or shut down completely. All you had to do was hit the ‘accept’ button, and that feeling would come back. You probably wouldn’t have to talk much - Blue could converse enough for five monsters…

With decisive movements that made you appear more confident than you felt, you folded down the corner of the page you were on and put your book aside, then stood and approached the phone. Biting down on your fear (on your timidity), you pressed the green button.

Mr. Blue’s face filled the screen, and he beamed, looking beyond pleased that you had answered. “Hello again, green-Reader!” He greeted, leaning back from the screen slightly. You didn’t know where he was, but there was a black flag with a skull-and-crossbones motif on the wall behind him. Home, maybe? Or a skeleton bar? Was that a thing?

You raised your hand and twiddled your fingers in response, the word ‘hello’ getting stuck in your throat. This was a bit more nerve-racking than you thought it would be, without Sweets there to ground you.

Mr. Blue didn’t seem bothered by your silence. He just beamed and twiddled his fingers back. “I’m so glad you picked up, I was worried I’d called at a bad time. I just got home from the Palace! Well, it’s not really a palace, but that’s what we all call it, because that’s where the Kings and Queens and Princes and Princesses all live. It’s funny, all the Asriel’s are boys, but all the Chara’s and Frisk’s are boys or girls or agender, depending on what they want to be. And all the Flowey’s want to be called boys, but technically flowers don’t have genders. I guess what they want is more important though, right?” When you nodded in agreement (you weren’t a boy or a girl, either - you were just you, a timid Reader who was maybe beginning to feel okay with being you), he beamed and kept going.

He told you all about his job as Vice Captain of the Swap Clan Royal Guard, which mostly involved patrolling the Palace and looking cool for photo ops with visitors. He also helped run an Obstacle-Course Club with two friends named Papyrus and Edge. They had commandeered a large part of a local park for their work, and had built various obstacle courses with moving parts, so they could be rearranged to give a new, different challenge each week. They even had a few mini-courses for the local children to play on. Even their lazier brothers (Sans, Stretch, and Red) had chipped in, helping with the construction some and falling asleep in various impossible ways on the multitude of ladders, ropes, ramps, tunnels, rock walls, stone walls, spinning tubes, et. all.

This turned into him telling you all about his brother Stretch. Stretch was long, lanky, and lazy to boot. He was a part-time scientist at the Royal Labs, and when he wasn’t working or goofing off with his friends (the aforementioned Sans and Red) he was at Muffets, drinking honey and flirting with anything that moved. Mr. Blue spoke of him with fondness, laced with exasperation. He moved on to talking about his father, Gaster, who was the Riverperson underground, but now ran a successful cab company with all the other riverpeople from the various Undergrounds. They all lived together in a nice cabin-like house on the edge of town, right next to the woods and near a few of their alternates.

Mr. Blue chatted for nearly an hour about his life, asking you questions and accepting all your nods and non-verbal answers as they came. He never once asked you to talk, or asked why you weren’t talking when he knew you could. He just...rolled with it, carried the entire conversation himself, and was happy to do it.

Around eight o’clock he slowed down, and you heard someone knocking on a door on his side of the phone. “Pappy, I’m talking to my new friend!” He called, turning away from the phone, and you went bright-pink. Friend? He thought of you as a friend? The only friend you had was Sweets, and sometimes you felt more like a patient than a friend with her. A deep, warm feeling grew around your SOUL, leaving you feeling pleased. Blue turned back to the screen, looking disappointed, and you realized you hadn’t heard anything he or his brother had said to each other.

“I’ve got to go, green Reader! We have company over for a movie night, and I must prepare my famous nachos.” He looked disappointed at having to say goodbye, and you mirrored his sad smile. It had been fun, listening to him enthuse over his job and family. “May I call you again, sometime? Maybe - not tomorrow, I have night patrol...Saturday? Can I call you on Saturday so we can talk more?”

You didn’t even have to think before nodding - you wanted this. Wanted to talk to him more, wanted to hear him be so completely over-the-top with his ideas and passions, wanted to learn more about this monster who didn’t make you feel scared when you talked to him over the phone. Talking to him made you feel normal. Less frightened, less wary, more like you had a place in this world. Even if you weren’t talking back yet, just watching and listening to him proved one thing: you could stop being timid. You could change your fate, even if it was only with this one monster.

“Great! I’ll call you on Saturday then!” Blue beamed, stars in his eyes once again. “Goodnight, green Reader!”

“Goodnight, Mr. Blue.”

The stars grew, and a blush colored the bone beneath his eye sockets. With a soft ‘Mweh-heh-heh!’ Mr. Blue closed the connection, leaving you alone in your room once again. You laid back on your bed and thought about everything he had told you - all about his life and family. You didn’t have anything as interesting to talk to him about. He knew all about the shelter - his brother was friends with Miss Rivet, and the deer was warming up to Mr. Blue, too. Your life before the shelter was only a few hours long, and they were not a few hours you wanted to relive. Frowning, you flipped onto your front and picked your book back up.

Maybe he wouldn’t mind that you didn’t have much of a past - after all, you were three months old. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if you talked about your books and drawings and people-watching habits. Maybe, being the Magnificent Blue, he would be magnificently patient with you as you taught yourself to talk to him. Maybe, just maybe, his patience was what you needed to emerge from your timid shell.

Speaking of shells, back to the mystery of Turtle. Human or turtle-monster? It was hard to tell...

Mr. Blue called like clockwork, every other day. On weekdays he called at seven, right after you both finished supper. On weekends it varied - sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon, most often times in the evenings. You kept an ear out for the tinny ring of the phone, rushing to your room whenever you heard it. Sweets had joined in once or twice, but after seeing you lunge to answer the call after the first ring, she left you to it.

A month into your bi-daily phone calls, he asked if you wanted to have lunch together. “We could have a picnic in the backyard of the shelter,” he’d explained when you gave him a confused look. “Or even inside the shelter, if you want! It’s my Clans turn to do the city sweeps - we change it up every month, that way there’s always guards on the streets, but also in the Palace, just in case, and this way it feels fair, y’know? And I asked for the route that goes by the shelter, so we can try having lunch together!” He blushed a bit, though he looked pleased. “I thought - you’ve been doing so good talking to me over the phone, maybe it won’t be so scary? Now that we’re friends?”

You’d hesitantly accepted, and now here you were, standing on a large red and white checkered picnic blanket in the backyard of the shelter, trying to tamp down your nerves to an acceptable level. Rivet and Sweets had both agreed to the idea wholeheartedly, and the deer had even set up a nice little area for the two of you to meet, away from the large playground and the miniature Reader-sized pool. The scent of blooming spring flowers from the garden beds along the fence was almost overwhelming, but you were thankful for it. The heady sensation kept your mind off your growing not-just-social nerves.

“Hello, green Reader!”

Blue was here, standing by the back door to the shelter, on the other side of the lawn. He had a wicker basket thrown over one arm and was nervously shifting his weight, despite the million-watt smile on his face. You couldn’t help but swallow, hard - he was much, much bigger in person than on the phone. He didn’t make a move to approach, though, staying where he was, swinging the basket a bit.

“Is it alright if I approach?” He asked after a moment, watching you carefully, though for what you didn’t know. Panic attack? Fainting? Booking it out the nearest crack in the wall? You entertained all the options for a moment before forcing yourself to be rational. You had been talking to Blue for a month now, and the two of you were friends. He’d told you all about his family, and his friends, and had even cried with you for a few minutes when he’d stepped on a butterfly and killed it while going for a jog. He was a good monster, and would never, ever hurt you.

Plopping back down on the blanket (not even realizing you’d stood), you nodded. Used to your silence, he beamed and plodded over, carefully setting the basket down before sitting on the other side of the blanket. He was too far away to touch you without having to stretch all the way out, and you smiled at him to show you appreciated the space he was giving you.

“For lunch today I have made the most fabulous, the most wonderful, the most magnificent, meal of all time!” He threw open the top of the basket with a bit more zeal than required, and you knew what was coming next.

“Tacos?”

“Correct, tiny green Reader! Tacos!” With flourish befitting a magician he pulled out a tupperware container stuffed to the brim with both soft and hard-shell tacos, each carefully filled and sprinkled with MTT-Brand edible glitter in a rainbow of colors. You resigned yourself to nibbling off one of his monster-sized tacos for lunch. You didn’t mind much, really - sometimes, when Rivet was sick or something happened that called her away from the shelter, you and the other Readers ate monster-sized food. Shrinking spells were tricky and took a certain flick of the wrist to be successful. There were stories of an elephant-sized teddy bear that some of the older Reader’s whispered about, but Rivet denied.

Blue didn’t pop open the box of tacos, however - instead, he reached back into the basket and pulled out a smaller tupperware, filled with at least three dozen soft-shell tacos, each with a different color of glitter decorating it. “Here you are, tiny green Reader!” He announced, popping off the lid, which he set in front of you. Bright blue magic picked up a few of the tacos and set them on the lid, turning it into a plate. “I could not find a way to make tiny hardshell tacos, so I hope you do not mind soft shell!”

You didn’t really know the difference - most of meals at the shelter consisted of casseroles, pastas, and pizzas. Simple things that could be made in large quantities to feed all the hungry mouths. You’d never eaten tacos before (though you’d had taco casserole, and nachos). Shrugging, you gave a small ‘thank you’ and lifted up one of the yellow-sparkled tacos. On the phone you’d begun talking to him a little bit, but seeing him now, in all his 5’6 glory, made you nervous to speak once again.

It didn’t last. Flavor exploded on your tongue, spiced meat mixing with cool cheese and the sliver of lettuce and tomato that had been slid in, all wrapped within the delicious, flaky tortilla. The MTT-glitter added just the slightest hint of sweet to the otherwise spicy meal, contrasting in a surprisingly palatful way.

“Oh my stars,” you took a second bite, then a third, woofing down the first miniature taco in a minute flat. “This is amazing!” You praised Mr. Blue, who had begun on his own taco. Stars exploded on his eyes and his cheeks lit up as he chewed (did he open his mouth? How did he eat?), looking beyond pleased with your praise. You picked up a second taco (pink sparkles this time) but took your time with this one, savoring the meat and cheese. Without realizing it you began making pleased little hums and purrs as you ate.

Mr. Blue’s grin grew even wider at the happy noises, and he scooted just a bit closer to you, happily munching on his own food. He didn’t talk, just enjoyed the calm silence. Rivet had convinced the other Readers to stay inside on this lovely spring day by offering a special popcorn lunch with a movie, meaning they didn’t have to worry about anybody but themselves. So you both ate the tacos and enjoyed the sun.

By the end of your third taco you were beginning to feel full, but you didn’t want the rest to go to waste. Mr. Blue chuckled, having already polished off his fourth taco, and leaned towards you a bit. “You have something on your-” His hand reached for you, and you jerked back, dropping the last of your taco and flinching from his touch.

“Oh - oh stars, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” Mr. Blue withdrew his hand and sat back, giving you plenty of room and looking as guilty as sin. “Oh jeez, I’ve just ruined the day,” he muttered to himself, voice dropping to near silence. Even without hearing him, you could see the emotions flicking across his face. You weren’t called a Reader for nothing, after all. Guilt was there, but so was anger - anger at himself, at his actions, anger at not thinking, anger at himself for scaring you.

You paused - you weren’t scared. You’d been startled, sure, but...but you weren’t scared. Not of him. As Mr. Blue muttered something that sounded like ‘stupid’ to himself a few times, you brushed off the rest of the taco (which had fallen on your lap and stained your jeans) and stood. The monster noticed and went still, ready and waiting for you to bolt back to the shelter, away from his stupid hands and his stupid impetuousness.

Instead you approached him, carefully, slowly, across the checkered blanket. He had dropped his hands in his lap, and you wobbled across the uneven cloth to pat his knee instead. Being even closer to Mr. Blue reminded you just how tiny you were, but it didn’t bother you. Not with him.

“I’m not scared of you,” you patted his knee again. “You just startled me.”

He stared down at you with tiny, quivering pinpricks of light, stunned, and at a loss you gave his knee a third ‘pat-pat.’ The lights exploded into stars, and his magic sparked around his face, creating sparkles that wouldn’t be out of place in one of the manga’s from the library (all donated by the plethora of Alphys’ & Undyne’s on the mountain).

“Really?” He asked, breathless. “You’re not scared of me?” His hands twitched, and you moved back a bit to avoid getting taken out by any over-enthusiastic gesticulating.

“Well, I - I don’t want to be picked up, o-or anything like that,” you looked away, feeling your own face heat up, “But I’m not scared you’re gonna hurt me anymore.”

Mr. Blue let out a little high-pitched ‘squeeeeeeeee!’ noise, bringing his hands to his chest as he bounced in place. “Oh, little green Reader, I’m so happy you trust me!”

Trust him? Yes. You did trust him. Nobody who cried over stepping on a bug could be a bad guy, you had decided. And him not being a bad guy meant you could...possibly...trust him. Not to pick you up or handle you, but to be near you? Yes. You trusted him.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed at the realization that you trusted a monster, you trudged back to your tacos and sat back down, suddenly feeling hungry once more. You nibbled on your fourth, decorated with pale-green glitter, just like your sweater, and watched Mr. Blue come slowly off his ‘friendship high’ to resume eating his own lunch. By the time his watch beeped, signaling the end of his lunch break, you had both eaten far too many tacos and were basking in the sunshine and the silent glow of your newfound ‘trust-ship.’

“I must be off, little green Reader!” He announced, shutting both his and your tupperware containers. “I will give this to Miss Rivet, so that you may have tacos whenever you wish!” He shook the box a bit. “It is all monster food, so they shall never go bad!” He placed it on the blanket, then pulled out an even larger tupperware full to bursting with even more tiny tacos. “And I brought these so your Reader friends will not be jealous! They shall also have some of the Magnificent Blues Terrific Tacos!” You noticed that these tacos didn’t have any glitter on them, and felt a little ping of warmth in your SOUL. Your tacos were special, different from the rest, because Mr. Blue had made them for you, and you alone. He packed up his own lunch but, before standing, he gave you a long, hesitant look. “Reader, may I - may I give you a pat before I go?” He asked.

A pat? Had he meant a pet? You thought of Doggo, who had a seeing-eye Reader who visited the shelter every few weeks to do some chores for Miss Rivet, like patching the roof or helping build on to the crazy backyard playground. He was always going on about being pet, and in turn petting his little Reader. The pets always looked...kind of nice. Soft. Slowly, you nodded.

With a frankly ridiculous and slow movement, Blue reached out with his hand flattened, and gave you a gentle ‘pat, pat’ on the head, just like you’d done with his knee. He drew his hand back and, looking like a kid in a candy store, said ‘Goodbye!’ before getting to his feet and fleeing into the shelter, nearly vibrating with excitement. You heard him whoop loudly a few minutes later, after you assumed he’d escaped the shelter and resumed his route. Grinning like an idiot,  you reached up and ran a hand over your head, where he’d pet you.

Pat, pat.

You liked pats.

Phone calls nearly every day now, and lunch twice a week (every Tuesday and Thursday). You began talking back on the phone, telling Blue (he’s insisted you drop the ‘Mr.’ to his name, since you were friends) all about life at the Shelter, about the kitchen and the mountain and the other Readers and the library. You told him all about the books you read, and he’d even gotten a copy of The Westing Game and was reading it with you, both of you promising not to read ahead, and together you were working out who the murderer was. Blue had even looked it up and confirmed that Turtle was, in fact, a human with a weird nickname, not a turtle-monster named by Asgore.

Sweets was over the moon. As you opened up more to Blue, you began leaving your room more often, and even spent time at the art corner or at the communal library pillow, not talking much but still being there, with others, instead of closing yourself off. You no longer ran for cover the second an unfamiliar monster visited the shelter - you kept your distance, but you didn’t hide, didn’t panic. On the few occasions it rained on a Tuesday or Thursday and you had to eat your picnic lunch inside, Blue made enough for all the other Readers and Rivet and everybody ate lunch together.

But you were the only one he pet.

It had moved on from pats. Your second lunch, you moved to sit beside him, and he gave you a pat at the end of the meal. The third time you had spoken for a few minutes about a book you found that you liked, and he’d patted your head and encouraged you to tell him more. By the sixth time, if he didn’t have something in his hands, he was patting and petting you, or just resting a hand on your back, as much as you’d let him. You found it soothing and comforting, and no longer had any fear that he would hurt you on purpose. (You were a bit of a realist, and accidents did happen, all the time).

You let him pick you up, once. You’d been showing him how part of the crazy jungle gym worked (swinging from an ascending set of monkey bars to a tube that led to a twisty slide) and had fallen and hurt your ankle. He’d spent three minutes dithering before asking, point-blank, if he could pick you up to take you inside, and after an equal time of dithering on the answer, you’d said yes. He’d moved with that exaggerated slowness again, making sure you could see and knew what he was going to do. He’d scooped you up and held you close to his chest, close enough you could hear his SOUL pulsing, and taken you inside. Rivet had wrapped your ankle and warned you to be more careful, though there was no heat in the warning and she looked beyond pleased that Blue was holding you. The skeleton had kept you in his hand for the rest of lunch, and you couldn’t find any reason to object.

That hadn’t been repeated - he was respecting your boundaries as much as possible, and the second you showed discomfort he backed off and made sure to understand what he had done wrong. He understood when you had a bad day because of a nightmare and kept his hands to himself. He understood when you were in a cuddly mood and wanted to hug his hand. He understood, and you honestly couldn’t ask for anything better.

You trusted him, and you trusted he would always do what was best for you. In return, you would do your best for him.

Two months later, Blue was back on city patrol. You liked seeing him in his uniform - he looked like a police officer, but instead of a badge, he had the sigil of the Swap Clan embroidered over his chest pocket. He also had a peaked cap that made his head look rounder than before. He kept stopping by for lunch, always cheery and saying hello to all the Readers he knew, but reserving most of his attention for you.

Today he didn’t bring in his basket, or his smile. Today his arrival was preceded by a screech of metal as outside the shelter, on the slick rainy street, one car turned too fast and slid, straight into another that was waiting to turn. In the crash and the chaos the skidding jeep bounced off the waiting one and flipped, first onto its side, then its roof, trapping its passengers. The other car, a more sturdily built SUV, rocked on its heels and had a large dent but was fine. The bunny family inside - a mother and her four kits, grocery shopping for the week - got out to assess the damage, and the mother called the guard.

Blue had almost been to the shelter door when he saw the crash. Without missing a beat he threw open the door and yelled for Rivet, who was already halfway across the room with her first aid kit to see if she could help.

“I’m commandeering this space for any injured we need to get out of the rain before the ambulances arrive,” he explained, and the deer pinned her ears back in worry (and a bit of annoyance at being told her shelter was ‘commandeered,’ if she were being honest). “I need you to get all the Readers in the Pen, I don’t want any to be in the way or get hurt.” He glanced over at the Pen and gave the gathered Reader’s a forced smile. “Hear that, guys? I need you out of the way please.” White eyelights skimmed over them all, and came to rest on you.

You were sitting on the Pen wall, a new mystery book you both had been reading clutched in your hand, the list of clues and suspects escaping your mind as you met his gaze. He gave you an apologetic smile and motioned, with a jerk of his head, to get in the Pen where it was safe, before running back to the car accident outside. He spoke to the mother bunny, then went to the car and knelt beside it, talking to the monsters inside. There was no dust, so nobody was badly hurt or dead, but you could hear them screaming from all the way out here.

The mother led her bunnies into the shelter, and Rivet finished shooing all the Readers into the Pen and hurried to check them over. She gave each of the kits a lollipop and set them up on one of the couches, then began conversing quietly and urgently with the mother. Outside another guard member, this one a yellow lizard-monster, had arrived, and she and Blue were carefully cutting off the doors of the jeep, and if the shrieking coming from the driver's seat was any indication, the owner was not happy.

It wasn’t until after they’d pulled the last of the teenage monsters from the car that something akin to panic washed over Blue’s face. As the last teen was pulled free (an odd tentacle-like monster who was yelling about her skateboard breaking), one of the others began screaming about someone being missing. Blue hushed her and leaned close to the wreck, listening hard for something. Whatever it was had his skull growing pale, and he took off for the door at a sprint.

You jumped when it banged open, but before Rivet could chastise the skeleton, he’d zeroed in on you. You were still sitting on the wall, clutching the book and watching the scene outside with a growing sense of dread in the pit of your stomach. You’d always thought of Monsters as being perfect, powerful beings. Not god-like, but certainly not able to be hurt and rattled and scared like little Readers were. Now, there were frightened rabbit kits on the couch, a worried mother trying to sooth them, and four rattled teenagers freaking out over something, not to mention Blue looked like he was caught in a life or death situation. From what you’d just seen and heard, you were thinking that was the case.

Blue rushed to the wall and held out his hand in front of you, blue sweat beading along his pale skull. “I need your help,” he said, voice firm despite the anxiety on his face. “There’s a Reader trapped under the jeep, but I can’t move the jeep because I don’t know where they are. I need you to-”

You didn’t let him finish. You dropped the book and climbed onto his hand, the urgency in his voice spurring you to action. You’d spent the last three months learning to trust Blue, growing to be his friend, and when a friend was in need, you did what you could to help. Forget your sweater, and it’s stupid pale-green color. This piece of fabric didn’t define you! You weren’t timid, you were brave and strong and kind. You’d made friends with a monster, despite all your fears. You could do whatever Blue - whatever your friend - needed you to.

Said friend gave you a relieved look, pulling his hand up to his chest to hold you steady before turning and sprinting out of the shelter. The yellow lizard (you were fairly certain her name was Alphys, if she was the friend Blue often spoke of) was herding three of the teenagers into the shelter, where they would be dry and warm. The fourth teenager, a cow monster, was standing by the car, hysterically calling out a name over and over again. The jeep had been propped up with four glowing bones on each side, keeping it from rocking or sliding in the rain.

“Matty! Matty, please, say something! Maaaatttttyyyy!” She sobbed, kneeling by the back of the jeep.

“Ma’am,” Blue grabbed her shoulder with his free hand and gently pulled her back, “Ma’am, I need you to step back and be quiet for a moment. I have someone here who will help you find your Reader.” He gently shushed the monster, who wiped at her eyes and looked down at you.

“You can find Matty?” She asked, her voice drained and hoarse.

Your SOUL swelled at the tone, and you nodded. “Yes, I’ll find him,” you reassured her, reaching out and patted her hands (which she was wringing in front of her chest). You didn’t think that it was odd, to be talking to and touching a strange monster. You just thought of how upset she was, and how scared she was for her Reader, and how comforting her was the kind thing to do.

Stepping away from the teen, Blue knelt down beside the jeep and, after hesitating a moment, moved his hand through the space where the back door had once been. A bright-blue bone appeared, its magic lighting up the whole interior of the car, revealing ripped leather seats and a maelstrom of fast food wrappers mixed with broken glass. You carefully stepped off your boney magic carpet, grateful for the boots you’d taken to wearing so you could run around with the other Readers outside.

“He was riding with his owner in the backseat,” Blue explained, and the bone floated towards the back. The roof of the car had crumpled upwards, pressing against the back of the seats, leaving only small gaps where there used to be plenty of head space. “The back was full of boxes - the driver just moved to an apartment. I think he’s trapped back there.” He pointed a bit, and you followed his finger, seeing a maze of seat leather and cardboard illuminated by the bone. You hesitated to move towards it, wary of falling boxes, but Blue gave your head a little pat. “My magic is holding everything still,” he explained, “But if you don’t feel safe, that’s fine, we can figure out something else.”

You thought about your birth, about the insanity of the battlefield and the feeling of being alone, of being afraid, of being trapped behind that stupid potted plant and having no idea where you were and who to trust. You thought of being trapped in between boxes, thrown about as the car slid, having no idea where your Monster is or if anybody is going to save you in time. You thought of Matty being alone, trapped in the back seat, pinned between the roof of the jeep and a layer of cardboard boxes, not knowing whether help was coming or not.

“He needs help,” you said, moving towards the maze, “and I can help him.” Blue nodded, and the bone carefully followed you as you squeezed past the backseat and the side of the car and into the mess of the back. The blue light cast everything in an eerie, alien glow, but it gave you plenty of light to see by. There were cracks and spaces between the boxes, too big for a monsters hand to fit, but small enough for you to slip through. You moved slowly, tugging the bone after you, pressing against the boxes, all of which stayed perfectly in place, held tight by magic to prevent further injury.

At about the middle of the maze you heard it - a quiet rasping noise, the sound of labored breathing, the sound of someone holding back tears of fright. It was a sound you knew well. You froze, listening, and heard it again coming from your left. Grabbing onto the edge of the bone, you pulled it after you, into a crevasse made between a box of kitchen pans and a sleeping bag.

A male Reader in an fluffy jacket and jeans was lying on his back, his ankle twisted at an unnatural angle. He was huffing, tears staining his cheeks, and judging by the trail of blood behind him, he’d used up all his energy to reach this point. As the light filled the space, his head snapped up, hope lighting them. “Bessie?”

“No, sorry,” you whispered, tugging the bone closer so you could see him clearly. His ankle was definitely broken, and there was a cut on his arm that was sluggishly dripping blood. “I’m - well, I don’t have a name yet. Blue sent me to help. Bessie is really worried about you.” You knelt beside him and helped him struggle into a sitting position.

“Is Blue your monster?”

You opened your mouth to say no, then thought about it. He came to see you all the time, the two of you talked almost every day, you shared everything, you’d solved the murder of the Westing Game together…

“Yes. Blue is my monster.” You moved his arm so it was over your shoulder and hauled him to his feet. He grunted, and you grimaced as some blood was wiped on your sweater (your stupid, wrong, pale-green sweater). A couple swears slipped out beneath his breath, and you grinned at his frustration. He was a Brave or a Determined - no other Readers swore with that much creativity.

You shuffled back through the maze, making sure to look at the labels on the boxes to make sure you were going the right way. It was slow going, and several times Matty accidentally put weight on his bad foot and had to stop and swear again. Soon, the smell of wet asphalt and worried voices met your ears. The pair of you emerged through the small crack by the back seat, to be hit with blinding light as a flashlight swept past.

“Oh thank the stars!” Blue, without waiting or asking for permission, swept the both of you up in his hands and brought you to his chest. You took one look at his worried face, furrowed brow and all, and decided you’d let it slide this once. Matty wasn’t ruffled, simply looking happy at being off his bum ankle. “You’re both freezing - lets get you inside.” As he turned, you could see a police car and an ambulance pulling up.

“MATTY!” The second you were through the door the cow monster was there, looking frantic and making grabby hands at her Reader.

“Bessie!” Matty was no less relieved, and he reached out for his owner. She scooped him up and cradled him to her cheek, cooing at him and worrying over his ankle. Rivet (who had been yelling at the other three teens, who were draped in blankets and clutching hot cocoa) came over and offered to look at Matty’s leg and arm. Bessie followed her into the back room, crying and huffing out ‘ohmygoodness’-es all the while.

A new guardsman, this one a tall, sharp-looking skeleton monster with red eyes and three scars over one socket, strode into the shelter, looking less than pleased at the situation. “Report!” He snapped at Blue, who held you a bit closer to his chest and glared at him.

“There’s no need to be rude, Edge.” He huffed, before pointing across the room at the water-logged teens. “The driver of the jeep took a corner too fast, slid into Mrs. Manicarots car, and flipped. Alphys and I got everyone out safe, other than some bumps and bruises. There was an injured Bitty Reader, but Rivet is taking care of him now.”

Edge nodded, threw the long end of his scarf over his shoulder, and marched over to glower and yell at the reckless teens for driving dangerously. Blue let out a huff of relief and moved to sit by the Pen wall, leaning against it and setting you down on top of it.

Well, trying to set you down. You wrapped your fingers firmly around the front of his shirt and pressed your face against the clean cotton. He chuckled and leaned back, letting you settle against his chest and stroking your back with his thumb. “You’re soaking wet,” he muttered, though he made no move to move you. “You need to change clothes.”

“Already on it!”

Sweets, like a particularly annoying genie, had appeared with a soft white sweater and a clean pair of sweatpants in her arms. She was beaming at the two of you, looking like a proud mama bird who’d just shoved her baby out of the nest and watched it fly away. Despite your grumbling Blue pried you away from his shirt and set you on the wall, leaving you without a skeleton to hug. Pouting, you turned away from Blue (who glanced away, blushing) and quickly changed into the new pants. Sweets stood between the pair of you while you pulled off the blood-stained, stupid-pale-green sweater and replaced it with the soft white one.

Not white for long, you thought to yourself, soon it’ll be that stupid pale-green again. Ignoring the magic that changed the sweaters colors, you sidestepped Sweets and tugged on Blue’s sleeve. He glanced back down at you and, to your surprise, went rigid, jaw dropping and stars blooming in his eyes.

“What?” You asked, turning to glance at Sweets when he didn’t answer, only to find her in the same state of silent excitement. “What’s wrong with you two?”

“You’re sweater! Look!” Sweets grabbed your arm and forced it into your field of vision. The sleeve of your sweater was green (of course), but not the pale minty color you had grown used to. Instead it was a dark, emerald green, like moss or oak leaves or emeralds. It wasn’t the green of timidity, or of shyness, or of quiet. It was the green of kindness, the shade of selflessness.

“You’re a kind Reader!” Blue announced, reaching out to scoop you up. He paused, but when you nodded he caught you in his hands and brought you to his chest.

“No,” you muttered, snuggling back into his shirt (in a spot slightly to the left, where it was dry), “I’m your Reader.”

I have no idea what you guys will think of this chapter. I had a ton of fun writing it (spent today subbing for a librarian, basically spent six hours writing!) and I like the ideas I used, but as always I want to hear from you guys! What did you think?

The Westing Game is a real book, by Ellen Ramkin, and it is fantastic! The ending will blow your mind. BOOM!

Thanks to everybody who helped out, I was able to pay my rent on time! (Though I will be eating ramen for a while; it's a good thing I like it!)

Pg 5 Lol Paps is such a good bro even when he’s pissed 

sorry picture is bad quality i tried to fix it but yah just take this any way.

edit: Papyrus is skinny bc he’s a skeleton, sides i think blue would have rounder bones than his brother.

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