this is just embarrassing

[voidster]

There’s a skeleton out in the gardens and he’s impossible to miss, kneeling there in the shredded remains of clothing.

He started the day as what people lovingly call goop. And then, while enjoying the sunshine... he was himself again for all of ten seconds before he started to grow.

And grow.

And keep on growing.

Now he’s a sight to behold, a bunch of bones the size of a house, with four eyesockets and six (five and a half, really) arms. Three ribcages. Only one pair of legs, hipbones, and a genuine tail for some reason. Not a very logical design. Who comes up with these things?

The gardens seem so very small now. He definitely won’t fit through any doors, not that the thought of crawling around on his hands and knees in there is very attractive. And he’s completely naked. At best he could use a regular sized shirt as a sock puppet, perhaps. Some monsters choose to go without clothing as it is, but... think of the children!

What’s a monster to do?

Comments

cw: vague description of disassociation

[voidster]

They are so small.

...Sans would be too, if or when he shows up. He probably will—anyone who looks out the windows facing this part of the gardens is going to get a shock.

All four of his eyelights are staring down at the tiny Frisk, as he kneels, leaning on his second set of elbows, tucking the third pair inside his middle ribcage and signing with the first pair of hands. It’s very surreal for him too, and he’s at least able to escape from it in a sense. Not the first time he’s felt detached from his body and it’s surroundings in since he found himself being ‘real’ again.

[This is odd.]

[dustless]

They watch the third pair first, a prickle of discomfort echoing in their own chest. They resist the urge to rub it, in case they do feel something breaking there just 'cause they're expecting something inside their head.

[Yes.]

Lots of eyes. Lots of everything. They hum to themselves.

[What are you?]

[voidster]

[I have no idea.]

Truth. The castle is being ridiculous, no skeleton monster has been this size as far as he knows.

[A giant, I suppose?]

[dustless]

[Too many arms. And eyes.]

As far as they know, everybody's changed into something that 'exists', either for real or in stories. And they might as well tell the truth, as quickly and neutrally as possible: [I'm a w-a-r-e-w-o-l-f.]

[voidster]

Maybe it’s an ancestor of his. Maybe there has been a monster of this size and shape, long long ago. Think outside the box, Frisk!

[I see. What does that mean? I saw a movie once about that, but you don’t look...]

Hairy. Wolfish. Hungry.

[dustless]

Woshua and Tsunderplane prove that monsters don't make sense in the first place.

[It's day now, not night. And everything is okay.] Their movements are concise, and controlled. 'Okay' has nothing to do with what they know they can get through, 'okay' is Frisk reinforcing that to themselves. Nothing's upset them, nothings upsetting them, Gaster seems okay besides looking weird so far, and they're doing their best to believe so to keep their body as it is. There aren't any situations where a transformation helps.

[voidster]

[It happens every night?]

Whatever ‘it’ is, but he can guess it’s something awful by their behavior. Something worse than changing shape? How irritating, that the castle can’t give them a break.

[dustless]

[Yes. The moon is big all the time. Or if I...] How do they sign this? Especially without having to risk messing themselves up? [Get too much feelings.]

[voidster]

Idly he wonders why they’re signing anyway. Lost their voice?

[Odd, that the castle is suddenly altering everyone at once... and now me.]

...Please don’t let it be permanent. What in the world will he do about food? Bless this distance he’s so good at keeping between himself and everything else.

(What will he do if he has to die again, as a giant?)

[dustless]

There's a falter in their movements.

Frisk's talked to him so much--been through so much with this Gaster, with Judgement's SOUL-stuff, it feels like he's been around forever.

But he hasn't. He's new. Ish.

[It happened last year. A month. I was a demon.]

[voidster]

Demon. Damn that very word and the trouble it caused so long ago. Nevermind that, why is this a yearly thing?

[This is... very odd. Has it happened to others?]

[dustless]

They nod. [Genie, skeleton, human, almost-human, ghost, snake. Deer monster thing. Deer monster skeleton thing now.]

Puppet, whispers the back of their mind, and something hot raises in their stomach.

No, no, no, don't think about that, not that, anything else, everything else--

They dart forward, shoving through trees and. They're going to get as close as they can, see how big he really is. Why not. Good distraction.

[voidster]

Big.

His hand alone is as longer than they (or Sans) are tall.

All these people transforming, just as they did last year. Just as they did shortly before he arrived... shortly after one with his name and face attacked people. Successfully.

Everyone swore it wasn’t him. One year on, he’s still not so sure. What happened once could happen again, and he’s currently the size of a house with... With a small child crawling underneath him.

It would be a terrible time to have some sort of violent episode. Fortunately he’s already lying down, because the fear that seeps into his bones is immediately exhausting. He sighs, somehow, and twists around to look at them. He’s as flexible as a snake, looks like.

"What are y-you doing down there?" he whispers, grinning despite everything.

[dustless]

That isn't fair. Halloween did the worst things, warping what people had so it felt normal but it wasn't--in a way, maybe Frisk should be the slightest bit grateful. At least they have some control during the daylight hours, as long as they're careful...

('Should be'. Not 'are'. They absolutely still hate the castle for all of this.)

"Getting a better look." They stop a few steps from his uppermost ribs, and they ignore the urge to try to slot themselves in between a set. That'd be weird.

[voidster]

Not that weird, really. He can't say he's really stuffed that many things into his ribcage, but he has filled his own skull up for a laugh once or twice. It's just empty space.

He can't quite twist around that far, and he's afraid to move much without being able to see them that well... best err on the side of careful and assume he's heavy and able to squish small children.

Also he's poking a finger into one of his eyesockets. Excellent, he has three new ones. They need a distraction, right?

"Oh, dear." Still whispering, rehearsing the words in his head before he pronounces them. It's all garble to him. "I'm eh--a four eyed f-freak." Still grinning, joking.