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narrans · 2 months

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My Borrowed Son | 7 | Tempest and Taxonomy

Chapter Seven | Tempest and Taxonomy

Time had truly flown. It was hard to believe, but a month had gone by and Amanda could hardly fathom she had been taking care of the little boy for all of this time. While he still hadn’t uttered a word during the entire month, it was getting easier to decipher his requests through his body language and simple signs.

Hands up meant he wanted to be held.

Pinched fingers pressed to his mouth meant hungry.

Open hand to his mouth meant thirsty.

Rubbing eyes meant tired.

Wanting to play was spinning either clockwise or counterclockwise.

Bathroom was relatively obvious, but still something Amanda learned to read from the boy.

Every day, Amanda learned to read the boy a little more. The smallest facial expressions were signals he understood or was processing the world around him. Amanda could tell he understood quite a bit, especially when she brought him back to the park bench where she found him.

The little boy would fall very silent, and his shoulders would slouch. He would look around the base of the pole and, after a minute, would try and rejoin Amanda. When she stepped farther away, he would hunker down by the base and patiently wait for her to return.

That was something else Amanda had worked on with him – separation.

Amanda didn’t want the little boy to become completely dependent on seeing her every second to feel secure and would step away a little for longer periods of time before returning. The most she was gone was for two minutes, but it seemed to be conditioning the boy to expect her to come back. He was still clingy and would ask in his own way to be picked up and held for comfort, and each time Amanda would make sure he understood she would always come back for him.

After three consecutive weeks of her returning him to the park bench, Amanda solemnly concluded that the parents of the little boy were not coming back.

What else could she assume?

A month had passed with no signs that anything or anyone had been back to that place under the bench.

The timing worked out well too.

Amanda’s friend, Mel, had managed to secure the paperwork for the delayed birth certificate. One of Mel’s midwife friends who was sworn to absolute secrecy agreed to help her out for a fee. Times were hard and filing a little paperwork that had “slipped her mind” didn’t seem to weigh on her conscious. She managed to be convincing enough that she thought the paperwork had been filed by her trainee at the time and that she had forgotten to check up on them.

In all reality, Mel’s friend didn’t go into specifics of how she was able to get the proper documents to register the child’s birth, just as Mel’s friend didn’t know the specifics about the boy and his size. What all parties understood, however, was that discretion and secrecy were paramount. Everything was meant to be kept under wraps about the boy. Amanda managed to get the necessary paperwork in the end and, all of a sudden, she was a single mother of one with no declared father. Her ex-husband would never have to know since he wasn’t named on the certificate.

There was one last thing that needed to happen before everything was official, however, and that was the name of the child.

Despite every attempt Amanda made, she couldn’t get the boy’s name out of him. His unintentional vigil of silence was hindering the process, and it was getting close to when Mel’s friend needed to finalize the paperwork.

“Mandy, do you think he even has a name?” asked Mel as she carefully handed the child a piece of cracker which he took timidly. His brow furrowed as he looked at the cracker piece, which Amanda learned that the boy did when he was confused or concentrating on something he couldn’t remember.

“I… I think so. He has to have a name, but… maybe he just doesn’t remember? Maybe whatever happened affected his memory and he can’t recall it?” suggested Amanda. “It’s the only explanation I can think of.”

Amanda leaned against the edge of her kitchen countertop and gazed at the little boy, but he didn’t meet her gaze. He was still sitting there contemplatively. Mel sighed and glanced back at her friend, words escaping her.

“Well,” she said as she stood up and looked around the apartment. “The sooner you get his name, the better. My friend is starting to get antsy about the whole thing. Not a threat or to put pressure on you. Just a reminder. Anyway, I have to go. Your place looks nice by the way. Last of the boxes unpacked?”

Amanda glanced at her apartment and saw what Mel was talking about. It was hard to believe she had finally managed to unpack the last box. The furniture was finally out and arranged. The dishes were in the cabinets. The blankets were folded and put away.

The place finally felt like a home.

“Um… yeah,” said Amanda after a moment of being lost in her thoughts. “I kept a few of the boxes since he likes playing with them, but they’re all empty.”

Mel glanced over her shoulder and smiled at her friend. “That’s really cute,” she said. “And, on that note, we’ll have a proper house-warming party next time I come over. Just you and me and probably some Chinese takeout and a bottle of box wine. You know – the classy stuff.”

Amanda rolled her eyes and stepped up to her friend. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Are you sure you have to go so soon?”

Mel nodded and hugged her friend, muttering, “Yeah. There’s supposed to be some kind of big storm tonight and I’m not getting caught in it. Hunker down and enjoy your night. I’ll text you when I get home.”

The two of them exchanged their goodbyes and, with that, Mel set off into the night. The little boy waved a sweet little goodbye as Mel left before lifting his hands into the air, signaling Amanda to pick him up. This made Amanda chuckle.

“You little tyke. Always so affectionate when it’s just you and me,” Amanda teased as she laid her hand down on the counter and the little boy clambered onto her palm. “Mel is a friend,” sighed Amanda. “And she’s right. I need to figure out your name.”

The boy, neck craning upward to look at her, made the same confused face before averting his eyes. His little brow was furrowed again, pinched as he was obviously trying to remember.

Amanda sighed and walked over to the bathroom to begin their nightly routine.

“Do you remember your name, sweetheart? Something your momma or daddy would have called you?” asked Amanda. The boy drew his legs closer to his chest as he kept his eyes averted. “It’s okay if you don’t remember. I’m not mad or upset. I just want to know your name. My name is Amanda. Can you say Amanda?”

It was no use. He said nothing and merely drew further in on himself, confusion and confliction in his features. The question was something he understood, but something kept him silent. Amanda could only guess the trauma was what kept him quiet since he seemed comfortable enough around her.

So, deciding to not pressure the boy any further, she rubbed his back and began running a warm bath, humming thoughtfully some of the songs she knew from her favorite kids’ shows growing up.

Like clockwork, the boy fell asleep as Amanda dried him off and slipped on his pajamas. She carried him to bed and settled in for the evening, mind still preoccupied with the thoughts of what the boy’s name could be.

~~~^*^*^~~~

It was hours later; that much she knew for certain. A deafening crack of thunder sounding like the end of a whip right in her ear had her sitting bolt upright in bed, eyes wide and heart racing. Amanda glanced around and saw her room was plunged into a pitch black abyss.

The power was out.

She knew it the moment she looked around.

The nightlight was off and the electric clock beside her bed had no numbers glowing in red indicating the time of night.

Amanda would have simply calmed herself and turned back over to go back to bed if not for the terrified cry she heard from the boy’s box. It was obvious he was terrified, but that’s not what caught Amanda’s attention.

It was what she heard.

She heard him. The little boy spoke for the first time.

It was undeniable, clear as a bell – and it was heart wrenching.

“Momma! Mommmmaaa!”

The sound alone brought tears to Amanda’s eyes. He was calling out for his mother – a mother who was probably no longer out there and who wouldn’t hear his cries for help. That maternal instinct kicked into high gear and, though unable to see, Amanda carefully leaned over toward the box and laid her hand inside of the box.

“Sweetie? Sweetheart, it’s okay. Amanda’s here. I’m here. Come to me, sweetie. I’ll protect you. It’s just a little rain,” coaxed Amanda. The wind whirled outside, making an odd haunting sound as it pelted the rain relentlessly against the windows. Amanda wondered if the boy might be dreaming and crying out in his sleep. Another streak of lightening illuminated the room just enough for Amanda to see the boy was huddled in the far corner of his box with his hands over his ears.

No. He was clearly awake.

She couldn’t see well, but she could have sworn his cheeks were glossy with tears, face twisted in terror.

Was his mother taken in a storm? There was a storm right as I moved in. Is that what has him frightened so much? Or is it just the storm in general?

Amanda inched her fingers closer to the boy as she called to him again. “Come on, sweetie. I’m here. It’s okay. It’s just the rain. We’ll be okay. I’ll protect you.” The last thing she wanted to do was grab him. Holding him was supposed to be a positive thing. She wanted it to be a source of comfort and let that be a bonding experience for herself and the boy. Grabbing him felt invasive and might shatter her limited trust with him.

Another flash of lightening followed by a crack of thunder revealed little boy once more, but this time he was looking up at Amanda, eyes wide with primal fear. The power flicked on and off, making the night light and the clock flash ominously in the dark room.

Then, as Amanda was about to call to him again, he held up his hands and made that familiar grabbing motion as he, for the first time, intentionally spoke to her.

“Momma!” he sobbed. Amanda was taken aback. She had been taking care of him, yes; but could she dare call herself that? “Mommmaa!” His tears and his cries compelled her to act without correcting him.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here. Come to me,” encouraged Amanda as she moved her hand closer to the boy. In a heartbeat, the boy stood and flung himself onto her fingers, once again covering his ears and cowering in her hand.

Amanda waisted no time in bringing the boy close and under the blankets with her, pressing her hand to her chest and slowly rocking back and forth. She couldn’t imagine what he was experiencing. His senses seemed heightened, at least more than a human’s senses. Did that mean the sound of the thunder was amplified? Could he hear her heartbeat over the overwhelming storm outside?

“Sshhh… it’s okay. I’ve got you,” soothed Amanda.

Again, she heard the boy’s cries. “Mommaa!” They were muffled because of her hand, but they were still clear. The boy had quite the clear voice for someone so small. It was gentle and sweet but overridden with distress. Thinking quickly, Amanda decided she had no choice. It felt disrespectful in one weird way or another to his real parents, but perhaps it would help calm him down.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Momma’s here. Mom’s got you. I won’t let anything hurt you,” soothed Amanda. “Please, sweetie. It’s okay. Just take a deep breath for me. The storm will be over soon.”

The sobs and sniffles eased ever so slightly but continued for nearly ten minutes as the storm continued to rage outside. It wasn’t until Amanda heard his cries soften while his body trembled against her that she dared to pull her hand away from her chest and look at him. To see better, she turned on her phone flashlight and pointed it at the ceiling to illuminate the space ever so slightly.

The boy’s eyes were red and puffy, but his soft brown gaze conveyed understanding as he looked up at Amanda. His face was dripping in snot and tears, which Amanda wiped away with a piece of pinched tissue.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? Wipe away those tears?” Amanda smiled. Perhaps it was simply the magic of the moment or maybe they were in the eye of the storm, but something about the way the child looked up at Amanda felt different. It was like the last barrier had broken down and a new relationship between them was born.

With some kind of newfound affection, Amanda asked, “Is that better?” To this, the boy nodded and smiled, leaning into Amanda’s touch.

She wasn’t sure how much time had truly passed. After switching off her phone light and laying there with the boy on her chest, the two of them stayed up and listened to the storm. Amanda continued to hum different tunes to help soothe the child when the storm began to kick up again, but alas he wouldn’t go back to sleep.

It was a pointless endeavor to go back to bed at this point, so Amanda sat up and, instead, began reading one of her eBooks from her phone; one of her personal favorites called “The Hobbit.” It felt fitting with how she was now on this unexpected journey with this child, and it was something she always wanted to share with her own children if and when she had them.

Now seemed as good of a time as any to begin reading.

Amanda started the first chapter and, before she knew it, was reading segments of the fourth chapter before she remembered to glance down at the boy to check and see if he was awake.

He was, with eyes wide open as he absorbed her words.

Now that she had heard him speak, it felt like now was as good of a time as any to talk to him and try and find out some answers. Keeping her phone light on and pointed at the ceiling so she could faintly see him, Amanda readjusted herself and him so she could rest her hand on the bed rather than hold it up.

The rain still pattered against the windows, but the intensity had subsided a little while ago. The little boy repositioned himself on her hand and laid down when Amanda began speaking to him.

“That storm was a little scary, huh?” she asked. The boy’s eyes glossed immediately as he nodded while he leaned into her hand, little arm draping over her thumb as he rested his chin on the knuckle of her thumb. “Is… do you remember another big storm? One when you were outside?”

Amanda didn’t need to look to know he was shivering. She took the answer for a yes.

“Is… that when you were left outside? Where I found you? Did something happen there?” asked Amanda. Again, the boy merely shivered. It was a heart wrenching feeling, and the questions weren’t making it any easier.

She decided to try and switch topics. Perhaps he felt more comfortable now or, in some weird way, perhaps the storm had helped trigger his memories.

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I won’t let the storms hurt you. You’re safe here,” Amanda encouraged. “Do… you remember anything else about that day? Do you remember your name?”

He shivered again and held Amanda’s thumb tighter.

Alas.

No luck.

Whatever he had gone through obviously was either keeping his memories locked up tight or he truly didn’t remember his name.

“Well, that’s okay, but I would like to call you something other than sweetie,” sighed Amanda. She glanced over and saw those thoughtful, soft-brown eyes of the little boy once again. He was looking at her earnestly, as if he wanted to help but couldn’t, and understanding.

Amanda then thought of something. She knew the paperwork was coming in soon and that she needed to come up with something to put on them.

Perhaps he would be willing to compromise? Be called something now and change it when he remembered?

It was worth a shot.

“Would… it be okay if I called you something other than sweetie? Just until you remember your name? Maybe you can help me pick it out?” Amanda asked. There was a look of mild comprehension on the boy’s face, but also reluctance. Maybe he didn’t want to be called something else. Amanda was about to give up on the idea when, to her surprise, the boy nodded.

He actually agreed? He was fine with it?

Maybe he didn’t like being called “sweetie” so many times.

She wasn’t about to question it now.

“Okay? Yes? You’ll help me pick out a name for now?” Amanda confirmed. The boy nodded. Every little boy name flooded her mind and yet vanished at the same time. She wanted something that would fit him, and she didn’t want something that would be too on the nose. Calling the boy Tom in honor of Tom Thumb felt belittling, no pun intended.

“Okay, okay. Um…. How about… Jon?” asked Amanda. The child wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Not Jon. Um… Gabriel? Levi? James? Gale? Adam? Peter?”

Each name Amanda thought of didn’t quite fit the boy and, more importantly, he shook his head in disagreement. The only one he seemed to perk up at was Peter, but even then he shook his head no. She made her way through a few dozen names, accidentally repeating a few of them, when one came to mind.

It was a name she had always liked, and, in all honesty, she wanted to name her own child this if she had a son. The name also felt a bit on the nose, seeing the place where she found him, but Amanda thought she’d suggest the name all the same.

“What about Parker?”

The child’s eyes narrowed for a moment and his brow furrowed contemplatively. For a long while, he was quiet and made no indication that he liked or disliked the name. As Amanda was about to move on, he nodded.

It was a complete shock to Amanda.

“Yes? You said yes to Parker? That’s what you want to be called?” asked Amanda. Again, the boy seemed to think long and hard before nodding.

That was it.

He had a name; at least, one she could call him by.

“Okay then, Parker. Why don’t we close our eyes and try to get some sleep? The storm is gone, and I’ll protect you if it comes back,” Amanda said, keeping her tone light and pleasant. He smiled and nodded, curling into her hand. Amanda fished out his blanket and laid it over him as he stayed curled in her palm.

Her own lids were growing heavy by the second, and Amanda felt herself drifting off to sleep.

“Goodnight, Parker,” she whispered. Sleep would have taken her if not for the thing she heard next.

“Night… momma.”

Three words. In one day, he had said three whole new words to her after a month of silence. She could only hope they would continue to make progress, but she would think about that later. Instead, Amanda thought about how good it sounded for Parker to call her mom. She felt a twinge of guilt and sadness, but it also meant he was trusting her more and more.

She drifted off to sleep, his nearly imperceptible weight in her hand, as the dream she thought would never be became her reality.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

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afraidparade · 1 year

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"A Kinder Reality"

Word count: 3,088 Genre: G/T, Hurt/comfort, Angst Content warnings: Detailed depictions of panic attacks/intrusive thoughts, mentions & allusions to gore, death, and suicide, fearplay, possessive behavior

(PLEASE read the CWs as this one is a bit darker than some of my other stuff! sorry if it gets a bit heavy lolol. i tried to base this off of my own personal experiences, as i often have memory problems as a result of vivid dreams and intrusive thoughts that give me a lot of anxiety. there's also not a ton of hurt/comfort where the giant is the one hurting so i hope this fills that emptiness 👍)

__________________________

Luka’s eyes snapped open, the sudden light he had yet to adjust to making it impossible to differentiate up from down. His fingertips clawed into the sheets around him, as if grasping desperately for purchase on an incomplete thought he held in his hands only a moment prior. What was this? Where had he been until now? It was difficult to recall the details, but the ache of breathlessness in his chest and the icy sweat that saturated his nightclothes was evidence that the experience had been far from pleasant.

He remembered feeling alone, yet surrounded. Helpless, but he wasn’t quite certain of what it was that threatened him. There was a room with chairs and people and…something else. Something that he was desperately terrified of. And it wasn’t that those faceless figures around him refused to respond to his cries and offer him aid, because he didn’t cry at all. He didn’t make a sound. It was a dreadful sensation, sitting in that room and feigning calm, surrounded by those human-shaped husks. There was an overbearing presence behind him: the terrifying thing. Some sort of shadowy monster that sulked in a corner of the ceiling yet simultaneously managed to breathe down his neck. Luka could just feel its predatory anticipation, waiting for him to turn around, or speak, or blink, or any action it deemed unacceptable. He was sure it was there, yet no one else paid it any mind. Could they see it? Could they feel it? Did they even care that it was there? Did they even care that he was there? If the thing lunged down and ripped him apart right in front of their hollow eyes, would anyone even flinch? Perhaps they would feel grateful to the monster for ridding them of such a burden. Perhaps they would all be happier if he weren’t—

Luka pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and swallowed. Dry. Water, he should drink water. Shapes began to form in the fuzzy white void of his vision, and the man soon recognized the wall of his bedroom. Which meant all those vague and terrible memories had just been made-up. A dream. A rasp of air blew through his chapped lips, as if he was attempting to laugh out of spite. What a cruel joke. He already got a pitiful amount of sleep as it was, and now he couldn’t even be afforded the luxury of feeling rested when he woke up? Well, such was life, he supposed. At least now he wasn’t alone.

At least now…he wasn’t…

Luka froze, and his head throbbed. The space on the mattress beside him was unoccupied. He managed to twist his neck to survey the other side of the room, enduring another sharp surge of pain in his skull. Empty. His lips parted, but he stayed silent.

Wasn’t there supposed to be someone else there?

A third, more definitive pulse in his head caused Luka’s eyes to wrench shut. His hands shot upwards to nurse the pain away, but when that didn’t work, his fingers became more frantic, each scratching at his hairline as if they had a mind of their own. There was some sort of vile growth blocking his airway. He didn’t know where it came from. It felt like the same sort of inky malevolence that the carnivorous presence from before was composed of.

Was this…real? Had he actually woken up?

He coughed, wheezing around the lump in his throat, panic setting in when he realized he couldn’t breathe. His diaphragm spasmed, and nausea followed soon after. His mouth was open, but if Luka was crying or screaming, he couldn’t tell. His sense of hearing had been reduced to a flat, monotone buzz.

How could he be certain that this wasn’t the dream? That every memory of having someone beside him, someone that actually cared about him, weren’t just artificial fragments of a bright, fuzzy dreamscape his brain made to protect itself? How was he supposed to know which memories to trust?

A dark ring began to close in around the corners of his vision, blotting out his surroundings like the final scene of an old film. Maybe it was from the lack of oxygen. Maybe it was just a trauma response. But Luka couldn’t bear this feeling, not being able to tell whether he was tumbling or stationary, awake or asleep, alive or dead. If he was alone again.

Again.

Again, again, again, it always happened, he always ended up like this. As if he was always destined to be an afterthought to everyone around him. As if it really wouldn’t matter if a monster swallowed him whole. And bitterly, with the last scrap of his consciousness that could form coherent thoughts, he wondered which reality was kinder: one where he’d tasted love and fulfillment only to discover it was never his to keep, or one where he’d never experienced such bitter joys, and never knew the severity of losing them.

Maybe he could wake up in the room with the people and the monster. Maybe then, even if it was for a second, someone would spare him a compassionate glance while that shadowy beast tore into his ribcage and—

“…ka?”

There was something warm on Luka’s cheek. Tears? No. Though it was only now that he noticed their presence, those felt chilly and wet. It was a small pressure, but it radiated familiarity. A shaky, sudden inhale — his consciousness felt so faint, he barely registered it as his own — and a question were the first sounds to break through the fuzzy, intangible blockade around his ears.

“What happened?”

It took several deep, uneven breaths and bewildered blinks before Luka could manage to see just past his nose. A humanoid shape finally came into focus, but unlike the figures in the other room, this one had a face. And, upon closer inspection, wasn’t human at all. Deep, glossy pools of black with white pinprick pupils stared wide at him with concern, and from behind a quivering frown, he could make out tiny, pointed teeth. Reddish horns, an absolute rat’s nest of black hair, and an ill-fitting shirt stitched together by his own clumsy hands, all wrapped up in a three-inch package. The details were too intimate to be mistaken for a dream.

It was Faust. His wonderful, impossible, real Faust.

Luka couldn’t muster the coherence to form words. Aside from the fogginess he felt after finally, truly waking up, he was still parched, and his throat felt bruised from his battle for breath. A hand retracted from his face, the palm damp from the tears it had inadvertently smeared around, and slowly reached towards the confused demon. Faust reached out for it without a moment’s hesitation, causing Luka’s fingers to twitch in surprise. He was real. It was miraculous. He was real.

But that looming dread from before still gripped at his chest unyieldingly. What if one day Luka woke up and he really was gone? How would he be able to bear being thrown from one cruel reality to the next without the reprieve of someone else to comfort him? No, not just anyone else, but Faust. There was no one else. It had to be Faust.

What would he do if he lost Faust?

Luka didn’t know what he was doing. His body moved almost robotically, stuttering every now and then as his brain tried to process how to proceed, all while his unblinking gaze lost focus and bore forward into the same nothingness. His fingers curled around Faust’s body rigidly, and while the demon didn’t protest, he began to shift uncomfortably. The human’s hand pulled back towards his body, his grip unconsciously tightening as it moved, only stopping when his companion was held flush against his chest and there was no space left for his hand to retreat to.

“Luka, this is— it’s kind of hard to breathe.”

Luka could hear him, so why couldn’t he stop? He didn’t want to hurt Faust. He would never do something like that. But he was so small. Even if daily life with a tiny imp had become routine, it didn’t change the fact that he was so very vulnerable. Ultimately powerless in the grand scheme of things. Beautifully unique, terrifyingly unique. There was no one else in the entire world like Faust. The big, dangerous, lonely world. Yes, it was so easy to keep him in place. It hardly took any effort at all. This was simply a reassurance that he had the means to keep Faust safe. To keep him close. To make him stay.

“Y-your heartbeat is crazy fast right now. Seriously, are you okay? I need you to respond to me, Luka!”

Luka’s chin lowered to brush against the hand trapping Faust in place, and without realizing it, his entire body had begun to curl around that point as well. It felt as though Faust was the very core of his entire person. This was beyond normal love, wasn’t it? This was obsession. Sick dependency. It disgusted him so, and yet his body refused to do anything but curl tighter. Like a boa constrictor wrapping around its next meal. Would he end up squeezing Faust until he stopped moving, too? It would be easy, Luka thought. Not that he wanted to. But it chilled him to know that he could.

“Don’t make me do this, Luka. I really don’t want to do this.”

Ah, this was what it felt like when they first met. The knowledge that he held this impossibly small being’s life in the literal palm of his hand, the understanding that he could take advantage of that, and the searing hatred Luka felt for himself when he did. It was horrible, but it was intoxicating, and he didn’t want it back, but a wretched part of him missed it. When exactly did he manage to overcome this feeling, Luka pondered? Somewhere along the way of falling for Faust? Realizing he’d need to change if he ever wanted Faust to reciprocate? Well, what did it truly matter if Faust reciprocated? Faust didn’t have to love him. He just needed to be here. He just needed to stay. Luka needed him to stay.

“…So be it, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

God, he was rotten. And delusional, too, to think he had actually changed. People don’t change. At least not people like Luka. Destined to be alone, again and again and again and again. He hated being alone. He hated himself. He hated this feeling. He hated that goddamn room from that goddamn dream. What was even the point? Why did he bother trying to fix something shattered beyond repair? What was stopping him from—

“Ca-li-for-nia girls, we’re unforgettable! Daisy dukes, bikinis on top!”

…

What?

“Sun-kissed skin so hot, we’ll melt your popsicle — wa-oohhh-ah-oohhh-oh, wa-oohhh-ah-oohhh-oh…”

Faust’s muffled voice faded after the last vocalization, possibly waiting to see if there was a response. Or possibly due to being out of breath. After that, total stillness descended on the scene. Almost as if someone had merely pushed the power button on a remote and turned off all the static in Luka’s brain. It took a moment for him to process what in the hell had just happened, but after rewiring itself, his brain recalled a certain fact he knew he could always rely on:

Faust was a terrible singer.

Once his lungs finally remembered how to inhale, his body relaxed from its tensed and coiled state, releasing the small demon from his desperate grasp. As his vision slowly came into focus again, Luka inspected Faust’s state worriedly, suddenly horrified that he may have actually inflicted harm on his roommate. He was flushed red from a combination of the larger man’s overwhelming body heat and the intense pressure that likely inhibited his breathing, but other than a few gasps and coughs, he seemed surprisingly unbothered. Which was relieving first and foremost, but upsetting in its own right. He deserved to be upset. He deserved to resent Luka. The man swallowed as he attempted to regain his voice.

“...I hate that song,” he rasped plainly. He didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah. I know,” Faust replied, still panting as he glanced upward, “I was sorta hoping that the hate and the shock would overpower…whatever it was you were feeling.”

Luka’s mouth hung agape. Had Faust really hinged both the wellbeing of himself and Luka on…an annoying pop song? And that actually worked? He couldn’t tell if the demon was an idiot or a genius. It was so ridiculous on so many layers that he simply couldn’t think about anything else. Those overbearing thoughts from mere moments prior vanished in a puff of smoke, just like that. Eventually he closed his mouth and allowed a small, warm grin to replace the anguish from before. He never smiled like this before meeting Faust. Funny, Luka thought, how very different his inner demons looked from the miniscule demon that stood before him.

“It did. Thank you.”

“God, you sound like shit,” the imp grumbled. Luka took the not-so-subtle hint and slowly sat himself upright, fumbling for the bottle of water that he kept on his bedside table. “What even happened? I had only just left to find myself something to snack on, but I turned back when I heard you making weird noises. Next thing I know, you’re suffocating me.”

Luka hesitated as he brought the bottle to his lips. An intense feeling of shame weighed down on his body as he recalled his actions, as well as the thoughts that accompanied them. It was probably better that Faust didn’t know every last detail of what brought his panic attack on…specifically, the thoughts concerning him. Sure, they had roots in the anxieties that Luka harbored in the back of his mind, but in that feverish state they had been amplified a hundred fold. They weren’t his true feelings. Or so he hoped, anyways

“I just…had a nightmare,” he answered simply, taking a swig from the container. Faust’s eyes narrowed, clearly unconvinced that there was no other trigger for such an extreme episode, but he held his tongue. After all, he was in no place to doubt the impact of nightmares. Luka, not wanting to dwell in the uncomfortable silence any longer, continued, “I’m so sorry for putting you through that. It must’ve been scary. Are you hurt?”

The smaller shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s fine. I’ve been through a lot worse.”

Luka wiped at a trail of water that trickled out of the corner of his mouth before capping the bottle. That was right — they had both trudged through hell just to make it to that very morning together, hadn’t they? Faust’s trophy was a back full of scars. Luka’s was a drawer full of pill bottles. It was difficult to liken his own traumatic experiences to Faust’s – especially when the other’s past was still largely a mystery to him – but there was comfort in knowing they could relate to each other on a basic level. That they…weren’t alone. Maybe all the trouble up until then was worth it just to share each other’s company. Of course, it was possible Faust didn’t feel the same way. But he didn’t need to feel the same way. It was enough that he was there.

Luka sighed and turned to Faust again. Given his state from a few minutes ago, it was remarkable how calm he felt now. Maybe that, too, was thanks to his companion’s presence.

“Did you ever get your snack?” he asked softly.

“No,” Faust huffed with a sharp thrash of his tail. After a pause, the small imp folded his arms and turned his pouting face away, adding with a grumble, “I can’t exactly get to the kitchen in just a few steps like you can.”

Cute, Luka cooed inwardly. It was a thought that he would verbalize on any other day just to watch the resulting adorable tantrum, but for now he figured he’d put Faust through enough.

“Well then, would you allow me to make a nice breakfast as an apology for earlier? I think there’s enough pancake mix left for one more serving.”

The other’s scowl dissipated instantly, clearly more interested in food than maintaining appearances. “Hell yes! Apology accepted! Put some whipped cream on top and it’s apology double accepted!”

Luka laughed warmly and, after brushing away the last of the moisture that clung to his cheeks, gently extended a hand for Faust to climb onto willingly. Despite him being the one to prompt the action, though, he faltered when his smaller counterpart did just that. Even though he’d been forgiven, this simple act of trust didn’t feel earned. It was only a moment ago that he’d hurt Faust, after all. What right did he have to hold him now?

Seemingly picking up on Luka’s uncertainty (or just becoming impatient after being promised pancakes), Faust craned his neck to shoot an inquisitive glare upwards. “What?” he demanded.

“Aren’t you… I don’t know, a bit too trusting of me right now?” the brunette asked, unable to meet the other’s eyes. “Are you not even the least bit afraid that it might happen again?”

Faust scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. Of course it’ll happen again, idiot.”

Well, Luka hadn’t been sure as to what sort of answer he expected, but it certainly was not that.

“It might not be today or tomorrow, but sure, yeah, it’ll come back. Stuff like that doesn’t disappear overnight. But what kind of demon would I be if I was afraid of one measly human?” he pointed out, flashing a toothy smirk. “I trust you, Luka. And besides, I’ll always be around to knock some sense into you.”

Had Luka not spent all his tears earlier, he was certain there would be some welling in his eyes right then. He gave an earnest smile, a quiet chuckle, and asked, “So singing cringey pop music is your definition of knocking sense into someone?”

“It’s not cringey. You’re just a hardass.”

How fortunate Luka felt now to have woken up. Because truly, how could there be any reality kinder than this one he shared with Faust?

As they walked, Luka hummed a few notes between the pauses of their aimless chattering, before eventually groaning and cursing under his breath.

“Fuck,” he muttered, “You got that stupid song stuck in my head.”

“Heh heh! You’re welcome.”

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sweetestpieces · 1 year

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Pairing: Giantess!Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader

Tags/Warnings: Giantess, Size Difference, brewing romance, fluff(?), idk, first time writing fic

Length: 1.3k

Summary: King Viserys wants a suitor for his daughter Rhaenyra soon. The princess is not so keen on the idea and would rather spend time alone with you. (Part 1? of ???)

Storm’s End was about what you’d imagined it would be. A huge bleak castle that eternally resists the rage of the waters beneath it. You knew King Viserys was adamant about finding his daughter Rhaenyra a suitor soon. But for the life of you, you could not understand why he would look here. The men all looked the same, tall and dark-haired and well-built. They spoke with flowery language as if each of them were singers as well as soldiers. All of them except for two. The Dondarrion lord was the oldest of the group, a man well past his prime with his greying beard and balding head. The other was a young man from the Riverlands, a Blackwood, short and looking like he could barely hold the sword he wore on his hip.

You couldn’t stand the thought of any of them being with the princess. The very thought made you strangely angry. Your rampant imagination was quickly put to rest each time a new man stepped forward. The princess casually glanced in your direction with a sly smile that only you knew. Her eyes would just as quickly return to the next man in line and hear their story, their pitch for marriage.

The princess in her flowing red dress made the Baratheon dais look comically small. The stone chair was clearly not made for someone of her stature. Even sitting she towered over Ser Criston who stood tall beside the dais. The sight of her squeezed into that chair recalled your first memory of meeting the princess.

Just shy of two years ago you were brought in along with a handful of other young women as potential handmaids to the royal house. The princess sat at a table breaking her fast with her father the first time you saw her. You’d heard rumors of the princess’s stature before, tales and stories. But none of them did the reality any semblance of justice. It’s been said that Targaryens are closer to gods than men. You never really understood what that meant until you met the princess. She stood from her seat as you entered, her long flowing silken white gown spreading out on the floor. Two of the girls gasped, another began mumbling a prayer to the Mother, and all you could do was stare. The Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen stood nine feet tall, towering over everything and everyone in the room.

“Ladies, a pleasure for you to join us this morning,” King Viserys stepped forward, opening his arms in a welcome gesture. “This is my daughter Rhaenyra, heir to the Iron Throne. We are eager to meet you this morning. The Red Keep, our home, is so large and busy that it takes nothing short of an army to staff it. I am told that each of you brings some valuable skills to that might assist us in more efficiently running our home. More specifically, you would be in the service of my daughter here.”

The Lord Protector of the Realm, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, first of his name, son of House Targaryen that survived the doom and rode dragons of legend stood right in front of all of you. And yet, no one looked at him. All eyes were on the princess behind him, towering over all with a beauty so radiant no song would ever do her justice.

She looked down at you and smirked. Or at least, you thought she did because in an instant it was gone and her face turned neutral, uninterested, once again.

Your trials as a potential handmaid were rather rough. You were no stranger to mishaps and mistakes, often forgetting tasks or mishandling running baths for the princess. You thought certainly you would not earn the position and have to return to your meager farmhouse in the Riverlands where your father worked you to exhaustion tending to the animals.

You were met with immense surprise upon hearing that you’d been asked for specifically by the princess. You met her in her bedchambers after your selection. She was standing by the open window overlooking the Blackwater when you arrived. She somehow seemed even larger than before, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited for her acknowledgment. “I’m so pleased you accepted the offer.” She finally turned to face you, and began walking toward you. “Would you mind fetching me some fruit from the kitchen?”

You’d almost forgotten yourself. “As it pleases you, my lady.”

Over weeks you began with simple tasks of running bath water, helping clothe the princess, fetching food, and tending to visitors. The princess offered you little in terms of conversation as you found her to be rather quiet, not shy by any means, but definitely a woman of very few words. She often spoke with her eyes, giving the most subtle signs of approval and disapproval that you began to pick up on.

Even after months in her service, you never became accustomed to her stature. Each time you saw her was like seeing her for the first time again. When she walked with the tallest and most gallant knights, she made them look the size of children. Some seats in the keep were specifically designed to accommodate her size, though very few of the doorways were high enough for her to pass through without ducking.

You being barely waist high to her frequently required a stepstool to fix her hair or properly fit her dresses. It was during these times that she spoke to you the most. As you stood behind her fitting a jeweled tiara onto her head she asked your opinion on her father, her uncle Daemon, political matters, and what lord you thought might make a good husband.

Even to you, the bond you were forming during these times was not obvious, but it did help alleviate some of the tension whenever you were in a room with her.

Your thoughts of past times with the princess are shattered as the sound of a sword being drawn echoes throughout the Round Hall. The Blackwood boy had drawn his sword and was facing the Bracken lord. The princess stood soon after and strided around the crowd followed closely by Ser Criston. “Come, Y/N,” she said as she walked past you.

There was the sound of swords clashing and then a pained cry. Rhaenyra did not pause to see the result of the fight.

You overheard the princess arguing with her father some days later after your return to King’s Landing. You did your best to not intentionally listen, but their voices carried down the corridor just outside the princess’s bedchambers. “Marriage is necessary, Rhaenyra. The future of our house rests on you and you alone.”

“I understand that, father. Don’t you want me to find a man that is not only suitable but one that I take a liking to? Those storm lords are little more than well-dressed soldiers. Not lovers, not husbands, not fathers. All they know is how to fight and die.”

Their argument carried on for another hour as they fought back and forth over the topic, the king constantly bringing up other highborn men as possibilities. Rhaenyra eventually had heard enough and stormed out of his solar and into her chambers. She shut the door behind her and slid to the floor in tears. This was the first time you’d seen her cry in earnest. You approached her cautiously. “My lady, are you alright?”

“Fine, Y/N. I’m fine.” She wiped the tears away. It was strange seeing something so large appear so vulnerable. You placed a hand on her shoulder and she looked at you. Her lilac eyes piercing you. She leaned her head against your shoulder and began crying even harder. Her larger hands found your lower back and pulled you in closer as she wept.

#rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra x y/n #giantess #size #size fic #giantess fic #g/t #fanfic #romance #fluff #hotd fic #g/t fiction #g/t fluff

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itsgothgirlthyme · 7 months

Text

chapter 1: the plummet of doom

next chapter

stranger things g/t

hi! i had multiple asks for this so i finally wrote something for it!! i hope i can deliver, based on what i made last year. i wanna continue this story :) ugHh! summary is, dustin finds you, and its misery. until TADA steve harrington swoops in to save you. also the borrower is a fellow girly.

borrower!reader x steve harrington

pov: you're a borrower who got herself stuck in a trash can

Stuck between plastic you tried to pry yourself out of the darkness. The stench of rotten foods you’d wished you’d gotten your hands on before made you gag. Sure, you could take the smell of a dead mouse stuck inside a trap but still cry at its death. Yet this food, it smelled foul and your hand sunk into it. It collapsed under your fingers as you gingerly pulled your hand back. You grabbed onto a piece of black plastic and pulled yourself up.

I’m such an idiot.

You continued to climb up the mountains of garbage bags while trying not to fall. It was slick or sticky depending where you touched it. You recalled yourself earlier in the day when no one was home, other than for that stupid cat. You’d climbed onto the tabletop and were getting quite a few crumbs of bread. A victory you awaited to celebrate in the coziness of your walls. Yet when that thing meowed at you, it scared the shit out of you. Foolishly you misstepped and fallen into the depths of rotten peels and papers. Your hook had gotten stuck on thick brown paper and wouldn’t let go, and then the worst of it happened. That damn door to the entrance boomed making you freeze up. Your grip grew tighter as footsteps boomed in your direction. A familiar high-pitched voice of the house was talking to the devil cat.

Then she muttered something about the trash being taken out. That's when you hid under the flesh of fruit and held your breath. Then find yourself trying to untangle yourself from this mess. It had taken far too long to break the garbage bag, but journeying to the top of the tin became hard labor. You were dirty, sweating, and really wanted a breath of fresh air. Things you were used to feeling, but this time you weren’t sure if you’d make it. These humans, you weren’t sure where they threw out so much food waste in the first place. Your hands trembled. Would you suffocate in this pile of trash, or worse?

You climbed up the last black bag closest to the lid. Yet you were so far away, and when you jumped your flicker of hope vanished.

“Shit,” you squeaked as your foot went over something slick.

You fell on top of another bag in the darkness and looked up at the ceiling. The longer you looked at the dark metal caved lid your eyes welled up. This couldn’t be it, to die due to your own foolishness. You’d expected to die due to a fight with the whiskered beast, or crushed by the hand of a human. Not being dumped into the trash due to your own skittishness (or stupidity).

“No,” you said to yourself. You got up and slid down the trash to hit the metal can. You started to bang it in frustration, like it would open. You shouted till your throat got sore, not remembering when you’d even shouted last. Hot tears slipped down your face, at least you wouldn’t go down quietly. Yet no one would know, the mad little borrower, screaming till they could no longer breathe.

Your knuckles stung and your tears had stopped. Then a loud creaking noise followed by being shed in golden light made you gasp. Tearful again you turned to look up and your eyes went wide. The house you borrowed from, the boy that lived there, stared down at you in awe.

“Holy shit,” he said.

You purse your lips together and lean into the wall.

I think I’ll die actually.

Your thoughts were not answered as a large hand loomed over you. You ran and tried to dig your way into the garbage. When you tried to dive in further into the trash he’d gotten your leg. Pulling you out painfully slowly and you sighed. This was worse than trash death, this was so much worse. You were held upside down and you were met with his dark brown eyes. His fingers pinched your ankle and you were terrified it would break.

“What are you?” he asked.

A warm cloud of air hit your face causing you to swing. You stayed silent, not daring to give this kid more reason to keep you around. You hoped. Again, your hopes were crushed as he dropped you into darkness. The small space had even you feeling cramped in as you kicked the doors of it. He shushed you but that only made you kick harder. The doors wouldn’t budge but when you heard two voices you stopped.

Then it went quiet. Then it went still. Then something zipped and you hit the ground.

“Ow,” you muttered.

The ground under you was colored red and felt like dust. You became distracted for a moment as you put it between your fingers. Tiny rocks slipped past your fingers, and your lips parted. You realized it was quite warm as well, and when you looked up you hissed. It was a bright light that packed a lot of heat it seemed. You’d never seen it before, or maybe you had. You looked away and blinked. Seeing the outline of the light in dark colors everywhere you looked. Then you saw the kid again, staring at you.

You stood up and already scurried off under a piece of wood. Yet he knew you were there but you couldn’t help yourself. You’d rather die trying to survive than playing his game.

“Aw, hey buddy. I’m not going to hurt you,” his voice was now above you.

“Buddy,” you scoffed with a brow raised.

This kid was trying to act like a nice guy?

“Look, uh. I don’t know if you know English actually,” he said. You looked to the other exit of the wood tunnel and started to crawl through it. “But I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” he said. When you crawled out you saw him, staring right at you. He frowned but then his face lit up.

“Maybe you’re hungry,” he seemed determined as he scurried out of the room. You looked back at the red dust to see it stopped at… glass. Your heart dropped and you got out of the wooden tunnel. You looked around to see your worst nightmare. You were trapped in a glass box, and the only way out was up. Your heart started to pound against your chest and your hand touched it. You wanted to cry again, and you weren’t sure if it was possible to.

Then something fell right beside you, and you looked back up. The kids' fingers pulled away and you looked back down. There was a pile of food beside you and you licked your lips. The kid told you to go ahead and eat from the same source. He called it, KitCat? Whatever it was, it took you a moment but you dug right in. It tasted like heaven to you, it melted in your mouth and was sweet. A different kind of sweet from that one time you had the peel of an apple or any other food.

You’d sat down beside it and ate away till you were full. When you were done, you could feel his eyes burning the back of your head. You sighed, now full, at least feeling a little better, but what now?

“My name is Dustin,” he introduced himself.

Your brows shot up and you looked up at him.

“Dustin,” he pointed at himself.

The giant child was trying to have a conversation with you. You sighed, defeated, and took in a deep breath. You stood up and told him your name. This sent him into being a crazed maniac. He was giggling, gasping, and practically shouting at you. You just stared back up at him in shock at how overjoyed he was to hear you say a couple of words. You decided to stay quiet afterward, already regretting those words. You’d hidden under the wooden log and curled yourself up into a ball. You didn’t even have your damn hook anymore, you felt naked, useless. Eventually, the kid gave up, told you goodnight, and turned the lights off. Except yours. Thankfully it was a quiet night as you tried to fight off heavy eyelids. Eventually darkness, once again, got the best of you.

You felt weightless and then your face crashed into something. You blinked your eyes open and realized you were trapped in darkness. You rubbed your eyes and your body flung toward another wall in the darkness. You hissed in response and backed up to the other wall. You steadied yourself and then your heart sank.

Last night flashed before your eyes and now you were here. Stuck inside the trap he’d put you in last night. Going who knows where, and you couldn't fight it. You couldn’t do anything so you kicked the opening again. Nothing happened, but you did it again. You kicked again and again until you got tired.

Being thrown into a bag and tossed around was not ideal. All the while this kid, Dustin, said nothing to you. You sat, defeated in his trap, as loud muffled noises met your ears. It scared the hell out of you, to be in this position. Would he tell other humans about you? What was he going to do with you? It made your head hurt.

Time passed, and finally, the bag opened. You were lying down and were immediately met with new faces. They all looked wide-eyed, mouths dropped and they were all children.

“Oh what the…” you stood up while trying to sink back into the bag.

“What is that?” the boy with thick black hair said.

You raised a brow at that, that. They are referring to you as it?

Dustin told them your name and you rubbed your temple. Your neck strained looking up at a total of five new faces. Oh, you hated this, this is bad.

“What? Did you name it?” the boy with a bandana tied around his head asked.

“It’s my own name,” you spoke up.

All eyes snapped to you and you stayed seated. You looked over your shoulder and your eyes went wide. All you could see were patches of long thick green grass.

“This is insane,” the redhead girl said.

“Isn’t it so cool?” Dustin said giddily.

You followed the conversation, kinda, but eventually, you lost track of the topics. Something about a creature named Dart, and how Dustin found you. You hopped over the ledge and your feet were met with a soft ground. The blades of grass met your height and the edge of your lips tugged upward. You reached a hand out to touch it but then you got scooped up into a warm hand.

Damnit.

You struggled against their grip but their fingers just tightened around you. The world spun until you were met by the kids' faces again. They started to blur in front of you and your breath started to get shallow. Once again you’d faded into darkness.

—

It had been a couple of days of being handled and biting your tongue. You’d still been staying in Dustin’s glass box, which was called an “aqua-something” you couldn’t remember. You’d occasionally see his pet “turtle” slowly walking around on the floor. You sat on the log with your head in your hands. Trying to think of a way out of the cage, since Dustin put down the mesh top on it. You were close to escape two nights ago but had managed to mess up your leg. It wasn’t till you were awkwardly walking around in the morning he’d made the connection.

You perked up when you heard the door and slid under the log. You watched Dustin walk in on his lonesome. That was odd, usually the other kids joined him to just watch you (creepy). He flopped onto the bed and huffed. You rested your hands on the log and watched him look sad. It actually made your heart crack at the sight. Dustin hadn’t treated you horribly, but not amazingly either. Yet, you knew human children were complicated. You’d heard his mom complain about his teenage years when you were still in the walls.

Your brows furrowed and you huffed. Yep, now you remembered why you hated him. He took you away from your quiet, peaceful life which would have ended in a trashy death. When you zoned back into reality Dustin was no longer in bed. The hairs on your neck rose as a shadow loomed over you. Exhausted, you just let him pick you up into his warm palms. He held you in a loose fist and you stared up at him.

“You’re still mad at me?” he asked.

You didn’t say anything and he sighed. Clearly, you were still upset over him holding you so tightly you’d passed out. The first time he showed you to his friends, he’d left bruises for days all over your ribs. They were sore alongside your pride, now with the addition of a possibly broken leg.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated for the millionth time. You looked away with little to no interest in his words. If you had any power over him, it was this. You didn’t give him what he wanted, and he’d leave you alone. Most of the time. This time he’d placed you in his backpack which had duck tape all over one side. You were surrounded by duck tape on the inside as well and pressed yourself up against it. He’d travel in silence the entire time and that freaked you out. The kid was always talking your ear off, even when you were pretending to not listen. Honestly, the things he said confused you but again, interested you.

In the darkness, you finally heard Dustin whispering. Another voice whispered back and soon enough you were jostled in the bag. You landed on your bad leg and bit down a yelp. The sound of the zipper was followed by light. You dragged yourself to the corner of the pocket and were still shed by a shadow.

“Dude, what are you talking about? There's nothing here,” a guy said.

“She’s probably hiding, hold on,” Dustin said.

Damn right, I am.

You pressed your back against the wall and hugged your knee to your chest. You blinked in surprise as the surface below you tipped. You started to slide and you had nothing to grab onto. Your good leg met with a hard surface and the bag disappeared. Your eyes darted around you and you found out you were on an open table. Escape was possible.

“What the–” you heard as Dustin cut off the voice.

“Right?” Dustin introduced you to the voice.

You slowly turned around to be met with someone older for once. You take a step back and cringe at the pain shooting up your leg. The guy looked at you with wide brown eyes but they softened. His tense shoulders relaxed and his brows furrowed. He put his hands on the table and he looked at Dustin.

“She’s scared, and looks like hell,” he said. Soon enough loud voices filled your ears as you started to step away to the edge of the table. You looked down at the drop which would surely end you. A shiver ran up your spine and you looked over your shoulder.

…

Steve watched you and his chest cracked at the sight. You were pale and were shaking like a leaf. Not to mention the limp in your walk. You’d been handled by Dustin and his knucklehead friends. He ran a hand through his hair and put a hand on his hip. He’d dealt with weird shit before but you were something entirely new. He didn’t want to freak you out, considering Dustin had helped in that department already.

“Okay okay,” Steve tapped the table, “Dustin, I’m taking her.”

“What?” Dustin asked and your head snapped to Steve.

Steve’s eyes went wide and he shook his head. “I mean, they’ll just stay with me. Dustin, clearly you’ve done enough.”

Dustin tried to fight his idea, claiming you’d been “found” by him. If anything you helped him, you vividly remember going insane in a trash can. That led him to opening it, so you really saved yourself, kinda.

“Dustin, just look at her,” Steve pointed at you.

Dustin’s anger washed away but no words followed.

“Steve!” Robin shouted from the other side of the doors.

“Yeah, I heard you!” Steve shouted back.

You jumped and he apologized immediately. Your tiny face finally looked up at him but he couldn’t detect your emotions. Once Dustin recapped Steve on what had happened up to this point, Robin burst in.

“Jesus,” Steve jumped and turned around to face her. He moved himself to cover you from her vision as Robin started to complain to him.

“C’mon doofus, it's my break time,” Robin exclaimed and continued to complain.

Your heart raced as you let Steve’s silhouette cover you from her eyes. Dustin kept looking at you but you could never meet his eyes. You sidestepped closer to Steve and the edge of the table. Your head was spinning, and you were losing sight of your escape plan “the plummet of doom” you’d called it 5 minutes ago.

“Oh my god, what is that?” you heard and you looked upward.

Robin, Steve, and Dustin loomed over you. Your heart plummeted to your stomach and you slid off the table. You hugged a leg of the table and made your way down. Shouts followed and then your fingers gave out. Hair whipped your face as you shut your eyes tight. Instead of being met with a hard floor you were met with something soft. You opened your eyes to see Steve staring down at you, inches away. Your face flushed at the closeness while he looked startled. His fingers cave in around you to hold you still and you don’t move.

“Jesus, who jumps off a ledge like that?” was the first thing he blurted.

#g/t #stranger things g/t #g/t stranger things #g/t writing #g/t thoughts #giant/tiny #borrower!reader #borrower!reader x steve harrington #g/t community #g/t fic #g/t fiction #giant tiny #I WILL WRITE PART 2 SOON #this was rough to start #but bare with me #it'll be good #gotta just do some build up first #thank you for reading :)

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kendsleyauthor · 10 months

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New G/t Novel Available!

THE RESTORATION PROGRAM is available NOW in paperback and e-book! 🎉🎉🎉

Amazon |||| Goodreads

The first book of the PRINT / TRINKET UNIVERSE is finally here! It's time to meet Nicole and Ryan!

Content warning: This book contains mature themes, depictions of emotional abuse, and sexual assault. Intended for appropriate readers ages 18+.

Synopsis:

Nicole’s tragic death was only the beginning. Against all odds, Nicole Zhou wakes up from a fatal car accident to find that she is a beneficiary of a cutting-edge procedure: the Restoration Program. By transferring her consciousness into a new body, her life has been saved. The only problem? Her new body is merely ten inches tall. As she tries to continue building a life with her boyfriend, Ryan Northe, she struggles to grapple with the strange world developing around her. With each passing day, she questions whether the procedure really saved her life or plunged her into a fate worse than death. Regardless of her fears, both the Restoration Program and Ryan agree: what was lost has been restored. The first in a thrilling New Adult trilogy filled with suspense, romance, and the dawning of a new, strange world, The Restoration Program is perfect for fans of Black Mirror, Westworld, and romance books with an existential twist. It appeals widely to fans who enjoy a love story turned darkly on its head.

If you've enjoyed the stories @marydublinauthor and I have posted about the print / trinket universe, this one is definitely for you! Come and read about the origin of Prints in this universe 👀🧬

If you give our book a read, make sure to leave a review on Amazon/Goodreads!! Reviews are the best way to support indie authors, as it leads to more readers discovering our work!

Thank you so much for all the support over the years! It's time to get this trilogy going! 😍✨

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welcometomylittlelife · 4 days

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Quick Question

Hey there friends!

Sorry for the late night post. Just curious if anyone knows anything about carpentry or electrical outlets. I was messing around with the electrical cover that goes into the wall since my electricity was acting weird and found this weird symbol.

Anyone know what this means? Thanks in advanced!

So long! Parker

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odybee · 3 months

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G/t Secret Santa Gift

@sugarthegecko hello! I'm your Secret Santa. I'm sorry it took me this long to get this gift to you, things have been a bit hectic where I am.

I wanted to try something new and wrote a one shot! It also comes with a few colored sketches I made along the way of the two antagonists. I will put the drawings at the end of the story. Hope you enjoy!

---===+===------===+===------===+===------===+===---

Hadotrauma

Word count- 3854

Contains: Intentional fearplay, implied vore (let me know if you think I should add more here, this is my first time posting something like this)

---===+===---

It was a beautiful day to be beneath the waves. The normally dull weather that hangs over the Bermuda Triangle was set to clear for the entire week, leaving uncharacteristically safe conditions for a reconnaissance mission that Jack had been losing his little mind over for months.

A small vessel carrying a family heirloom, a gold-crested lock box dating back a few hundred years, had gotten hit by a stray wave, forcing the captain onto a lifeboat as his ship capsized and quickly sank. The good news is that the captain survived, which is how Jack got enough information to take the job at all. His recounting of where the boat was when it went under was spot on too, which is especially nice because finding out where the wreck is was only half the battle for this particular job. See, in escaping the ship with his life, the captain wasn’t able to get the lockbox, meaning it went down with his ship. The family it belonged to was less than thrilled, to say the very least.

And that’s when Jack heard about it. The family was willing to pay a fortune to whoever stepped up and got the box back; not that Jack was diving for an extra paycheck. Even before he had decided he wanted to be a marine archaeologist, he'd been enamored with stories of the mythical Bermuda Triangle. Tales of monsters appearing from its shadowy depths, however unrealistic, were something he liked to think about to keep his job interesting when things got slow. He could just see a megalodon’s lifeless eye peering up at him from the inky water, just waiting for him to get close enough to-

“Helloo, Jack? You there?” A voice sounded from the receiver in Jack’s mask, making him jump a little in surprise.

“M-Huh? Sorry Lori, yea, I’m here.”

“Good. Please try to focus? There could be sharks or marlins.”

“Of course, my bad.”

Lori is Jack’s assistant. A bit of a hardass, but he’s been getting through to her lately. Once the nerves of jumping into the water and sinking into the dark wear off and it’s just the two of them, she can be really fun to talk to. For however long the communications decide to keep working in their masks, that is. Water pressure doesn’t play nice with lightweight electronics.

As the silent descent continued and Jack made a mental note to complain to his manager, a boxy silhouette began taking form in the sea of shadows beneath him. A thin line of bubbles excitedly glimmering in the glow of Jack’s headlight made its way up from the shape, meaning they were right on target.

“Bingo! You got an eye on it, Lori?”

“Sure do. Here’s hoping my camera’s still works, I just got a new lens for it.”

“Camera? Ooo, we actually gonna try to get a picture of a sea monster?”

“As much as I’d love to, no. Our clients just said they wanted to see where the box ended up. Plus, it’s great publicity. Tourist subs don’t get this far down. I’ll send you a postcard from the kraken’s stomach if we end up finding one though.” Lori fidgeted with the bulky tool as she descended a little ways above Jack, ensuring that nothing was gunking up the lens.

“What? You can’t get eaten! I’d be all alone down here..”

“A great white shark once said, ‘fish are friends, not food’. You can be friends with the kraken, or you can join me in its belly.”

“Yea yea, I bet the fish would be fresh in there anyways.” Jack made first contact with the wreckage now just beneath his feet as Lori playfully responded in disgust. The white plating of the boat’s hull barely had time to erode, much less allow algae growth, so it almost looked like it could float again. And it probably could have, were it not for the captain’s incompetence. Jack had thought it sounded strange for just one stray wave to send a boat under so quickly, so it was likely that the poor guy just didn’t do proper maintenance on the vessel’s coolant pipes and didn’t want to admit it. Nothing short of a missile could send a boat down that easily otherwise.

Feeling satisfied with his inspection of the boat’s port side, Jack made his way up to the open door of what appeared to be the helm. Peering in, there looked to be a small ladder leading down from right behind the captain’s controls.

“Okay, I’m gonna start looking for the box. You coming?”

“Yea, just getting some pictures of the outside first. Let me know when you find it so we can swap out. The two of us might clog up the cabin if we both go.”

“Aah, good thinking. Alright, I’ll let you know.” And into the wreckage he went.

---===+===---

“What the hell is that? Some kind of malformed angler fish?”

“I’m trying to tell you dude, it’s a human! I saw another one swim into that wreck, too!”

Nac layed low to the seabed, shyly pointing a claw at a tiny figure as it waved a cone of light around in the water. Every now and then it would suddenly flash an even brighter light from a box in its hands, then swim off to flash it at something else. Nac had to suppress a startled flinch in his tail at the brightness.

Nac’s more squid-shaped friend Rel rested in the seabed alongside him, squinting in confusion at the little human as it floundered about, flashing its light seemingly at random. “I didn’t know humans had lures, nor that they came down this deep. Are you absolutely positive that it isn’t just a big angler? I’m hungry.”

“Yes! Positive! I’m pretty sure that one’s ‘lure’ is just another human gadget, which I’ll bet is how they got all the way down here too. Cool, right?”

“Yea, I guess,” Rel sighed. “Oh well, they’re small but they’ll have to do. Dibs on this one,” he finished as he tried to take off from the sand. But before he could get anywhere, Nac latched onto one of his tentacles and held fast.

“Ugh, what is it Nac?”

“Jeez, chill out for a second, dude! We never get to see humans down here. Could we at least..” Nac’s tail twitched a bit as his eyes lit up. “Could we at least mess with them a little first? You’re hungry, I’m bored, it’s a win-win!”

Rel pulled back and put two fingers up to his chin, mulling over Nac’s proposal. “Mmm fine. But I’m taking both of them.”

“What? Hey! I’ve never tried human either, dude! Share!” Nac pouted, his claws subconsciously digging into Rel’s flesh.

“Ow! Okay, fine! I’ll take the one closest, you take the one in the wreck. Now would you please let go?”

“Sounds good, buddy! Have fun and don’t get hooked!” Nac exclaimed as he bolted off into the dark.

“Right.” Rel moped, staring at his prey. The passengers on this boat were supposed to have been his anyway! How was he supposed to know that it was only empty because the one thing he sank it for had gotten away?

Whatever. Perhaps this really would be more fun.

---===+===---

“What was that?”

Lori’s voice came on suddenly after silence had taken hold of the comms for a good ten minutes, making Jack bump his head against the ship’s hull. Ow!

“If you mean the sounds coming from the boat, that would be my head slamming against the hull.”

“No no, it wasn’t a sound, just..” Lori went quiet for a moment. “Nevermind. I’m seeing things.”

“We can call the expedition early if you want,” Jack checked his oxygen gauge. “I could do with a fresh tank anyway. We’re gonna have to make stops on the way up.”

“It’s fine, just keep looking for the box. I’m done out here.” Lori swiveled her head around as she made her way up to the door that Jack’d swam in through, but she couldn’t see anything. It was all black past the cone of her headlight, which was beginning to feel uncomfortably small. “Could you hurry up please? The water isn’t getting any warmer.”

“Sheesh, alright, hold on. I just need to- Ah! There it is! Lori, I found the-”

…

“Hello? Jack, you there?”

But the comms were nothing but static. It wasn’t exactly a surprise; these microphones were in desperate need of an upgrade. But something didn’t feel right this time. Something felt terribly, terribly wrong. There was a shadow, some inky blot that kept just to the corners of her eyes. It could be a shoal of fish, but then, why would it move like that? It’s almost as if.. As if..

Lori jumped violently as a few rhythmic knocks sounded from the boat’s main body, a signal that she and Jack had come up with the first time their microphones cut out to make sure they could still keep track of each other in the wreckage. She swam close to the hull to return the knocks, and as she did so, something brushed past her foot.

Immediately, Lori flipped around and prepared to bop a shark in the nose, but nothing was there. It was still just water, sand, and the void beyond her light, unknown and unyielding. She could feel her heartbeat start to pick up, the claustrophobic confines of her suit seeming to constrict her body in nervous warmth.

Just then, through the static of Lori’s mask, Jack’s voice started coming back through. “Hellooo? Loriii? Lori Dory Oreo, you there?”

Lori steadied herself, the relief of hearing Jack’s voice overshadowed by the intense need to stay completely on alert as she took a moment to respond. “Jack, I think something is here.”

“Uuh yea? There is a boat, maybe some fish, and this totally awesome box that I’m coming out to let you take a picture of.”

“No, Jack, I mean something is in the water. I think it’s watching us.”

Jack laughed in cruel dismission. “Oh haha Lori. Good try, but I’m not that easy to scare. Good on you for taking the opportunity while we’re here, though!”

“Jack, seriously. We have to go right now. Screw the bends, we just need to-”

“Need to what?”

…

“Lori? Did this stupid thing cut out again?”

“It sees me.”

“What? What sees you? Lori, are you okay?”

…

“Lori, come on, this isn’t funny anymore. I’ll be out in a sec, just hang ti-”

…

The feed cut to static once more, leaving Lori completely alone, staring at two huge, luminous yellow eyes like a guppy in floodlights. She wanted to move, wanted to swim up and out of the water with all her might, but she simply couldn’t. The thing’s gaze froze her muscles into place, as if the water itself had turned to ice.

Without warning, a ginormous clawed hand shot out from the black shroud, enveloping Lori’s entire body before she could even scream.

Lori wasted no time in thrashing against the creature’s flesh with everything she had. The utility knife that’d been clipped to her belt was instantly freed, wildly slashing an escape into the walls of her pale prison. The creature loosened its grip in response, but only just enough to let Lori’s head pop out while it squeezed the life out of her. Even as dark spots began taking up her vision, she dared to look up at its face.

Dark, navy blue skin beautifully complimented the yellow eyes of a face that looked insultingly human, apart from two long, pointy ears. Long, white hair unfurled from the top of its head; each lock a set of tangling waves to further drown Lori’s hopes in. But she was too exhausted to fight now; any oxygen she had was forced from her lungs. Unwilling to gaze into the creature’s maw, she let the last of her waking moments be spent looking into its eyes.

She wondered why it looked so disappointed.

And all went dark.

---===+===---

“Lori? Lori?! Goddamnit, this stupid microphone! One second Lori, I’ll be right out!” Jack called into the dark cabins of the boat, his fists banging against the walls as he made his way out. In all his panic, Jack hadn’t realized that he made a wrong turn somewhere along the way, placing him on the starboard side of the hull’s interior.

Right where he could see a huge, perfectly circular gash that’d been punched into the ship’s metal plating.

“What the hell?! But he said-” but he had no time to waste. He had to get out of the ship right now, and he figured the breach should be just large enough to let him through, even with all his gear on.

Without a second thought, Jack grabbed the edges of the hole and prepared to hoist himself out into the open water. He only needed one mighty kick, and then he’d be able to find Lori and get the hell out of he-

“Hello~”

..!

Jack snapped his head up at the sudden noise, only to be met face-to-face with some massive thing with a human face. It had a long, toothy grin on its pale, scarred countenance, and every one of its teeth looked sharp enough to cut diamond.

…

Jack retreated back into the boat.

He clawed onto any surface he could in an attempt to force himself deeper into the ship’s body, desperate to get away from the thing just outside the paper thin walls. Jack could hear it chuckle as he clamored away, but just as he had clung onto a door, the thing started sucking water out through the breach. The force of the current was so strong that Jack’s hands were ripped away from the doorframe, sending him careening into the beast’s terrible jaws.

Rather than being instantly ripped apart, Jack growled into his mask as his stomach was met with several rows of teeth and his tank clinked against the thing’s lower set. The sharp points were catching on the fabric of his suit, just barely avoiding cutting into his skin. In an attempt to regain his bearings, he curled up and placed his hands against the monster’s lips, desperately trying to ignore the fact that he was about to be bitten in half.

“Nac, would you quit toying with it? I’m still hungry and the sun will be down soon.” another voice suddenly chided from somewhere behind Jack’s head.

“One shecond,” the sharkish creature responded, its voice rattling through Jack’s skull like a bell. “Itsh really hutting uh a hight!”

The other voice gained an edge in its tone. “Don’t speak with your mouth full.”

Jack’s fruitless struggle against the shark’s jaws suddenly came to a halt as it plucked him out of its lips like a cherry stem, thankfully with all of his lower body intact, except the utility knife that was supposed to be clipped to his hip was gone. Fingers were wrapped around him just as he tried to kick away, and there he continued to squirm.

“I said it’s really putting up a fight! See? Look at this one go! Even now it’s still wiggling around.”

“Yea, they tend to do that when they’re about to die. Speaking of, you should really be getting on with it.”

“Whatever dude, I was getting to that!”

The hand holding Jack’s entire body in place loosened up, allowing his blood to run cold and fast at the sight of an approaching maw. His headlight served to reveal every gruesome detail he hadn’t been privy to from the beast’s lips, including bits of viscera stuck between its three rows of teeth.

What if thats-

“OH MY GOD, WAIT, WAIT! PLEASE!” Jack pleaded through his mask after suppressing a gag. But his cries didn’t even reach the shark, not even a flinch came of its ears.

Flippers met the surface of the monster's tongue. It was too soft to push off of, not that anything he did would allow him to escape. The shark’s gills were probably quivering in anticipation, waiting to bring him down, down, down. What more could he do but jam his eyes shut and.. and..!

“STOP!!”

…

A pause. It seemed to last an eternity. Jack’s mouth had opened, but he didn’t know why. Let alone that it had released a sound loud enough to rival the thing he was about to be silenced by.

…

“Nac, please. This is getting old. And why do you look like that? It doesn’t taste that bad.”

The monster, henceforth known as Nac, once again plucked Jack out of his jaws, then brought Jack to the front of his face. The two stared at each other, both some strange mix of horrified and confused.

“Did.. did you hear that?” Nac spoke, almost in a coo. “I think it just talked to me.”

“Oh sure, Nac, because that makes complete sense. Listen, if you don’t want to eat it that badly, just give it to me. No need to make up such utter nonsense.”

“No, really!” Nac’s voice shot up again. Jack felt like he was going to implode. “I think it made a word! Like, a word word! Listen, I bet it can do it again, see?”

Jack was abruptly turned around and presented to a second enormous creature with a human face, this one having a tentacled lower half and extremely long hair. If the lack of care Nac had in handling Jack’s body didn’t kill him first, then surely his heart would pound hard enough to escape from his chest.

The other creature raised an eyebrow at Jack, then sighed and leaned in so he was close to its ear. He supposed that meant he was supposed to speak, but the words weren’t coming out. The lump in his throat just wouldn’t al-

“Ow! QUIT IT!” Jack yelled, feeling three rough taps against the top of his helmet. The navy blue creature in front of him jumped slightly. Jack froze in place.

“See! I told you!” Nac barked as his friend pulled away.

“B-but, how is that even-” it paused. “I’ll be.. Right back.”

The other monster’s tentacles disappeared into the abyss, leaving Jack and Nac alone together. For a moment, they just stared at each other in silence, but Nac was quick to fill it with a torrent of questions and niceties.

“This is so gnarly, dude! Oh my god, hiii! I can actually say that now and it isn’t weird! Do you think it’s weird to talk to fish? Rel says it's stupid because they can’t understand what you’re saying, so it’s even more weird that you of all things would be able to talk back! Do you have a name? Do humans even have names? Do you guys know any other fish like us? Go on, talk!”

Nac’s smile returned to his face, somehow even larger than it’d been when Jack was trapped halfway inside of it. This couldn’t possibly be happening. It had to be some sort of decompression-induced fever dream. In just a moment, Jack would wake up to Lori squawking at him to get back on the boat.

Wait..

“LORI!” Nac’s ears twitched as Jack piped up again. “Where is Lori?!”

Nac’s slit eyes seemed to stare straight through Jack at the question.

“Aheheh, erm, uh, well, about that. The other human, they’re..” Nac looked around as though trying to catch her swimming away. “Theeeyyy’rrreee- oh! They’re right there! See? Rel has them!”

Nac turned Jack and pointed into the dark, where two yellow spots preceded the return of the second giant creature, Rel. In its hand was the comparatively small, black-and-silver form of Lori, lying completely still.

“O-oh my god. Oh my GOD! LORI! LORI!” Jack began squirming again, wanting nothing more than to make sure his friend was okay. But the shark held firm.

“Calm down, this human is fine.. Somehow. I felt its heart beating through this extra layer of skin you wear. Is it how you two managed to get down here?” Rel quizzed Jack, who had ceased struggling to lock eyes with the thing holding his friend.

“I-I, just..” Jack checked his oxygen gauge. Less out of necessity, and more out of habit for the sheer fact that not a bone in his body wanted him looking these monsters in the eyes. Forty-five minutes remaining, miraculously. He steeled himself, “Could you please, please bring us back up? I need to know if she’s okay.”

“Eh? Why would we need to go up?” Nac swam to Rel’s side, turning Jack along the way so that both monsters were in his view. “Are you trying to leave?”

“No! No, we just.. Our tanks only have enough time left for a few stops, and I don’t want Lori to get the bends. It might kill her if we don’t take our time.” As much as he wanted to get out of the water, Jack knew that it would only make matters worse if he wasn’t careful. Though he couldn’t see Lori’s actual condition, he chanced a guess that it wasn’t great if she’d passed out. Even if the monsters were just toying with him again, asking for their help was a risk he had to take. It didn’t seem like either of them wanted him gone anyway.

“Right.” Rel said promptly, though he looked at Jack like he’d just grown an extra head. “And, what exactly does that mean? Can’t you breathe here?” “..What?” Jack felt like he’d been slapped in the face. What kind of a question.. “N- Okay, you know what, wait. How about this. I’ll explain everything on the way up, and if you really want to, we can chat on the boat. I’ll also let you know when to stop and go, that way we can avoid barotrauma. Does that sound okay?”

…

“Yea, sure dude! Sounds good!” Nac, surprise surprise, put on a big stupid grin once again.

“I.. Suppose so. Just, don’t try to leave. Okay?” Though it seemed like Rel had composed himself, his eye twitched a smidge as he looked at Jack again.

Jack shrank back a little. “No problem!”

Jack wasn’t sure how long either of their composures would last in the long, cold journey back up to the surface, but he had to hope that it would be enough time for him to at least see Lori awake again. He himself had questions for the two sentient fish men he was somehow communicating with, and he had to admit that it was a bit exciting. Never once did he think that the stories he’d been told as a child were anywhere close to reality, and yet here he was, wrapped in the claws of a megalodon and conversing with a kraken, all while being in one piece. Of all the things to come of this trip beneath the waves, only one was certain.

It was going to be a long way up.

---===+===------===+===------===+===------===+===---

(This last drawing is a reference to a Spongebob scene. Just seemed in-character for a guy like Nac)

#g/t #g/t community #size difference #giant #tiny #giant tiny #g/t art #g/t fiction #g/t fearplay #sfw g/t #implied vore #soft vore #g/t secret santa #mermen

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beuhakkaka · 2 years

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I'm late but heres my mermay art-!! Yes I will be drawing more g/t mermay stuff! This is just the beginning huhuhhuuuu

Dang small feesh

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hellodolleyes · 1 year

Text

Hmm..

Introverted human with anxiety issues plus introverted tiny with mega anxiety issues. Sounds like a fun pair.

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narrans · 14 days

Text

My Borrowed Son | 14 | Parker's Place

Chapter Fourteen | Parker’s Place

For the past three years, Parker had been a completely virtual student on a medical conditional pass signed off on by his pediatrician and his mom.

His first day of school was a terrifying one. Parker’s mom had set up a special classroom area with a camera for him to be seen as well as a computer for him to watch the lectures on. Perhaps it was because it was a private school versus a public school, but Parker felt like he was just like any other student.

Mr. William Tamplin was a great teacher and he always made sure everyone was seen and heard if they had questions. He was a curious man with black rimmed glasses that reminded Parker of the ones Clark Kent would wear. He had sandy blond-brown hair, like Parker, but he had pale blue eyes like glacier ice. He was a young teacher, but he knew the answer to everything, even though he usually taught English.

Parker’s other teachers were nice, but they weren’t the same as Mr. Tamplin.

On that first day, Mr. Tamplin had Parker introduce himself and talk a little about what he liked and what he wanted to learn. All of the other teachers had Parker do the same thing as the camera and screen that represented him was shown to the class.

Parker had never seen so many children his age before, and he was both excited and terrified. When he was in Mr. Tamplin’s class, however, he felt safe, especially when it came to questions about why Parker couldn’t come to class. That was another thing Parker liked about Mr. Tamplin. He, unlike the other teachers, didn’t request that Parker explain anything about his condition.

Parker and his mom went over the details in depth every day to make sure Parker didn’t say too much. For whatever reason, Parker’s mom seemed uneasy about Parker sharing the name of his condition and details about it. It was weird, but the small child figured that it was such a rare condition that not much was known about it and that he wouldn’t be able to answer the questions he would receive.

“So, Parker, if anyone asks…”

“I know, mom. I just say that I have a special medical condition that is still being explored. It’s not contagious, but it just makes me a little fragile, so I have to stay put at home until we find a better solution,” recited Parker.

It was the same thing he told everyone in his classes and to his teachers.

There were a few who asked further questions when he was in private group study sessions or if they had free chat time and one of the kids came up and decided to talk to Parker, but Parker’s responses were always the same, and so the topics were changed.

Through his fall and spring of his first year, Parker made several friends. There was Bailey, a black haired girl who loved to draw, and Billie, a kid who couldn’t hold still to save his life. The three of them were fast friends because of their love of the same cartoons and, with Amanda’s permission, the three of them had phone calls and video chats outside of school hours.

Neither of them seemed interested in Parker’s condition and, for them, it was cool having a virtual friend. Sometimes, they even called Parker “the spaceman,” pretending he was in some kind of protected facility that was doing research on Mars or whatever.

In the end, it didn’t matter. They had continued to be friends all through his classes, even as he excelled in nearly all of his subjects and jumped grades. Parker was good at making friends and learned quickly how to socialize without bringing up his special circumstances and condition.

Now, for the first time, he was getting an actual birthday party.

True, it was still virtual for all of his friends to log in, but it was going to be the greatest thing ever!

“Hey, mom? I know it’s a little early, but could I go ahead and log into Discord?” asked Parker as he tapped on the mouse. He was so close, tantalizingly so, to spending a great afternoon with his friends. The mouse danced across the screen over the camera image, highlighting it every time it traced over the icon.

Amanda approached and looked at the camera and its placement in Parker’s room. It looked like everything was set up to avoid showing too much about him and his room. The thought of someone seeing Parker for the size he was felt close – too close, but she wanted to give Parker this birthday.

He was thirteen after all.

She thought of the gifts she had prepared for him and hoped she was doing the right thing with it.

Years passed and now he was officially a teenager.

The time really had gone by so fast.

“Sure,” she replied after a moment. “I don’t see why not. If you have any problems with the program or camera, just let me know. And remember…”

“About my condition and what we talked about. I remember mom. Thanks!” Parker clicked on the camera icon so fast that it made Amanda’s head spin. She carefully tiptoed away and listened as Parker began calling out to his friends.

The moment his mom gave the go-ahead, Parker saw that Billie and Bailey were already online and ready for him. He eagerly entered the “Parker’s Party” channel he created and watched as his friends’ faces flickered onto the screen.

“Hey spaceman!” greeted Billie. He leaned forward so his nose was blown out of proportion. The grin he had on his face was absolutely priceless.

“Sup man! How’ve you been?” asked Parker as he leaned back in his chair and stared at the camera at his friends.

“Hey! What about me?” asked Bailey. She was dressed in a pretty pink dress and folded her arms in a full body pout.

“Hey there to you too Bailey,” Parker said with a wave. “You guys are the first online. Any word from Spencer or Selina?”

“No, not yet.” Billie’s connection garbled his response but cleared up shortly after. “But you know them. Twins dude. They’ll be online together or never.”

“I hear ya on that,” Parker replied. Just then, Spencer and Selina’s icons popped into the chat followed shortly by ten other friends Parker invited.

The chat and the cameras were filled with cheering and kids talking over one another, creating jumbled connections and amusing breaks in conversation. Games began of Among Us, Speed Racer, and a few other odd ones that Parker was able to access on his device.

After games and other discussions of the fun, nerdy things they were watching or reading, they took a break to sing happy birthday and open the cards they all made for Parker. Because of his condition, Parker requested that his friends make cards for him that they could send to him later.

They were all hilarious.

Parker was rolling on the ground laughing, as was everyone else, and they decided to have an impromptu competition for whose card was the best.

Selina won, naturally. Her sketching abilities were unparalleled, and her use of humor was worthy of the Sunday funnies. The image was Parker in a spacesuit hovering over planets with Mars in the background. It looked like he was outside of some big space station and the caption read, “Comet me, bro!” and underneath read, “I wanted to have a space-themed birthday party, but there was no one to planet. Happy Birthday Parker!” What really caught Parker’s eye was the little heart next to Selina’s name.

“Wow, Selina. That one is fantastic,” Parker complemented.

“Awww! Thanks Parker! Thanks guys!” said Selina with a wink. For whatever reason, Parker felt his heart flutter and his insides flip when he was Selina staring directly into the camera right at him. It was like she was right there looking into his eyes. “Only the best for my bestie.”

“What!” Billie roared. “He’s my bestie!”

“Uh, I talked to him first, so he’s my bestie,” retorted Bailey.

“Can’t you all be my besties?” asked Parker, recovering

Hours passed and, eventually, everyone was called away for dinner or some other activity. Parker waved his hand and wished his friends a great day, and all wished him a happy birthday.

Finally, it was just Bailey and Selina left.

“Well, Parker, I hope you had a great birthday,” said Bailey. “And don’t worry! I’ll be sending you my card A.S.A.P!”

“Yeah, same here,” chimed in Selina. The look the two of them gave one another made Parker’s hair stand on end. It was like there was some unspoken rivalry between the two of them that, for one reason or another, involved him. Parker wasn’t sure really what was going on, but he didn’t want to get in the middle of it.

There was that instinct in him to back away slowly and hide under something big and tall, but Parker held his ground and swallowed his apprehension, addressing his friends

“Well, I can’t wait to get them,” said Parker. He stared into the faces of his friends for a little while longer before Bailey’s mom could be heard in the background calling for her. She huffed dramatically and leaned forward.

“You’ll be getting mine first, so message me as soon as you get it, okay? Talk to you soon Parker! Bye!” said Bailey as she disconnected. Parker looked back at Selina, now realizing she was staring right at him. Her cheeks were a little rosy and the light hit her eyes in a way that made Parker’s insides flip.

He swallowed dryly, but Selina spoke first.

“I’ll be sending mine first, but I wanted to ask if it’s okay if I post it on my Tumblr account before I do. I wanted it to just be for you, but it would be good for my portfolio. I’m applying to the Visual Arts program and want to get some traction,” Selina requested. Parker nodded, but a curiosity tugged at his mind.

“Sure, I don’t have a problem with that, but what’s Tumblr?” asked Parker.

“What? I’m surprised you don’t have one for your writing and everything,” Selina replied. “It’s just a place online for you to submit your stories, poetry, art, and all of that stuff. You should totally make one! I’ll be your first follower!”

Parker hadn’t really thought about publishing his scribblings. Mr. Tamplin was always complementary of his work, encouraging him to do more, and his other writing teachers and tutors said he had a gift for the written word.

Maybe it was worth a shot.

At the very least, it would give him a chance to make more friends.

“Sure. I mean, I have to double check with my mom and everything, but I’ll send you the link if I get one. Sound good?”

“Great! Well, I’ll talk to you soon! Bye Parker!”

The connection was cut and, once again, Parker was left alone in his room, his camera being the only one facing him. He stared at the lens and at his own reflection in the shaped glass. He wasn’t sure why, but it made him feel the slightest bit lonely.

Despite having friends and being online with them for hours, it didn’t change the fact that he was still completely and utterly alone.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you.”

Parker turned around to see his mom approaching with a cake with two tiny candles labeled “1” and “3” on top. It was his favorite, a strawberry cake, and he stepped out of his room to the bedside table to greet her.

“Thanks, mom,” smiled Parker as he gazed up at her. She balanced his cake, which was about as big as his torso, on the tips of her fingers as she smiled at him.

“You’re so welcome,” she said, her adoration clearly audible. “Now, you know the rule. Take a big breath and make a wish.”

She held up her phone camera and hit record. Parker took a few deep breaths, unsure of what to wish for, and stared at the melting wax as it dripped down the edge of the candle.

What did he want?

What was his desire?

He had friends and time at school. He had technology and knick knacks as well as all of the books he could possibly want.

The only thing he would really want was to actually go outside and play with his friends, but that wasn’t possible. It was too dangerous for him, as his mother explained on numerous occasions.

Parker knew the wax wasn’t dripping any slower so, without a wish ready and writing himself a rain check, he blew out the candles.

“Yay! Happy birthday, sweetie,” Amanda said as she set Parker’s cake over onto the small table she brought with her. “Now, do you want cake or presents first?” Parker knew the answer already and, leaving his momentary sadness behind, he decided to enjoy the day rather than be brought down.

“Presents please,” he said as he stepped onto his mom’s awaiting hand. His mom’s smile broadened.

“I hoped you would say that. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to start with the biggest one first. Otherwise, the others aren’t going to make sense,” said Amanda. She carefully stood and walked out of the bedroom and toward her office.

Parker leaned forward to look down over the edge of his mom’s hand at the vast distance below him. Something about the height was enticing and thrilling to him. It made his mom anxious anytime he was near the edge, but something inside him said that he could fall and be fine.

“Okay, I really hope you like it, but do not feel pressured into liking it,” said his mom. Parker felt confused as he looked away from the ground and toward the table by the side of the room. Immediately, his mind went blank as he looked at the thing on the table.

It was a miniature house.

It was made of pale blue panels and even had light brown shingles and white trim on the windows and doors. From what Parker could tell, there was nothing on the inside except for a few wrapped presents. It was three stories tall and had a little porch area with a gazebo.

He honestly wasn’t sure what to make of it until his mom asked, “Do… you like it?”

Parker, still unsure, gestured to the front door and his mom carefully set him down. The miniscule boy stepped up onto the porch, noticing how the steps were perfectly set for him. There was a wooden sign on the door that caught his attention immediately, adding to his swirling emotions.

“Parker’s Place”

He reached out and pushed the door open, noting the hinges were just like the ones on the big doors, just smaller.

When he entered the main area, he spotted a set of stairs on the left hand side as well as two entryways leading to two rooms. The rooms themselves were massive, to the point where Parker could run from one side to the other, spin around, and stretch without fear of hitting anything around him.

The outside world shifted as the house spun effortlessly around and the far wall opened up into two separate panels. His mom knelt down and watched him intently as he walked over to the right and into the kitchen. There was a box which had a bit of a hum to it and, when Parker opened it, the air was cold.

Parker, fascinated, turned on his heel and ran into the next room, seeing some old looking wallpaper and several large windows that led to the gazebo.

He needed to see more.

Adrenaline and curiosity fueled him as he sprinted up the stairs, each fitting him perfectly, as he found three new rooms with large windows all around. Still, there was another set of stairs. Parker glanced into the other rooms and found what looked like a miniature bathroom and what could be a bedroom before running upstairs to the top floors. Parker didn’t even mind that he ran past a stack of presents to continue his exploring.

There were two smaller rooms with a narrow entryway to get in, but it was still a massive space.

Now practically at eye-level with his mom, he turned around and looked into her eyes, his words finally manifesting.

“What… is this?”

“It’s a little house made for you,” she replied. Parker spun around in the space, mind still wrapping around the concept.

“For… people like me? But… how? Why?” Something felt odd about this place; like some kind of trap. Parker couldn’t explain the feeling, but something about this place didn’t quite feel right – like he didn’t quite belong there.

“Yes, something along those lines. Do you remember our conversation the other day about how you’re getting older and… things are going to be changing a bit?” asked his mom. Parker nodded vaguely while his mind processed how perfectly everything about this house fit him and why it didn’t feel right.

“Yes, I remember.”

“Well, you’re getting older now and I think it’s time that you had a larger space to call your own,” said Amanda. “It’ll let you gain a little independence and give you a little more freedom and privacy. You can decorate everything how you’d like, and we can set up the hot and cold water and lights together if you want.”

Parker stared around at the vast space.

Except for his room, he had always been surrounded by things that were immense compared to him. His tablet. The books his mom borrowed from the library. The camera he used for class.

Everything was big…

And now it wasn’t.

Parker finally pinpointed the feeling swirling inside him that overrode the sensation of this place feeling like a weird trap.

Normal.

He had always felt normal, but now the world around him felt like it fit him.

“Parker?” His mom’s voice pulled him back to the moment. “Do… you like it? Remember, you can say no. I just tho-”

“I love it.”

Amanda couldn’t be more relieved. She had been holding her breath the entire time Parker explored the dollhouse she purchased online for him. It was a miracle he didn’t find it sooner, but thankfully she had only had it for a few days. Dragging the package through to her office while Parker was in class was her saving grace.

Now, seeing the smile spreading across his face, it made it all worth it.

Yes, she felt an immense guilt for buying a dollhouse when Parker obviously was a person but keeping him in a shoebox on her bedside table felt wrong now that he was officially a teenager.

“You really like it?” asked Amanda, her voice choking up as she looked into those thoughtful brown orbs belonging to her son.

“Yeah, this place is sweet! I mean, it kinda has a weird smell and will need some stuff, but I’ve got so many cool places to go now! I can have a library and book area over on the gazebo in that side room. Bedroom is above that. Upstairs here is the recording, writing, reading area. I get a kitchen and my own bathroom too?” Parker felt himself geeking out.

“Well, I’m thrilled you like it,” said his mom, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm. “Anyway, your other presents are related to this place, so I hope you like them.”

Parker could barely contain himself.

He sprinted down the stairs, reveling in how they were perfectly sized just for him, and tore open the presents. Some of them were games he had wanted to buy and the others were gift cards. One gift card was from a place called “Tay Models” that really intrigued him.

“It’s an independent company that makes furniture and accessories for people like you,” replied Amanda. A pang of guilt hit her, but she disguised it behind a smile. Tay Models came up during a search for dollhouse accessories and furniture, but nothing on the website indicated that it was meant for toys and dolls that were Parker’s size.

It was the best solution she could come up with without telling Parker more about the condition she had fabricated to keep him – both of them – safe.

“No way!” Parker was overjoyed and eagerly leapt down out of the house and onto the table to hug his mom’s fingers. “Thanks mom! When can we start working on the water and motors and lights?”

Amanda swallowed hard and nodded. “Today, if you want.”

Parker beamed at her and nodded.

“Yes, please. And… momma… could I sleep in here tonight? Move some of my things in here?” asked Parker. The question made a lump form in Amanda’s throat. This would be the first time Parker would be sleeping in another place instead of right beside her.

It made Amanda feel hollow but also reassured at the same time. She knew it was probably unhealthy to have her son sleeping in the same room within arm’s length of her for the majority of his life, but only now did she feel like she could leave him to his own devices.

Parker was a trustworthy boy, and now he was going to be able to practice his independence at a safe distance.

“Of course, sweetie,” she replied as she turned her hand and Parker leapt on, ready for the next phase of his life.

The rest of the evening was eventful to say the least. Both Amanda and Parker had accidentally soaked themselves while getting the water running in both the kitchen and the bathroom, which was the essential if Parker was going to stay in Parker’s Place.

The two of them had dinner and cake while reading the manual on how to set up the electricity of the house but elected by unanimous vote to work on it tomorrow in favor of watching a double feature before bed.

Parker drifted off to sleep at one point through the movie, leaving his mom to carry him to bed, but woke just long enough to give his mom a kiss goodnight and tuck himself in under his blankets. He stared at the ceiling that, for once, didn’t tower above him.

Things were different, both weird and good, and Parker was excited for the things he was going to get to do with his place.

He drifted into a dream filled sleep of far off adventures and worlds beyond comprehension. When he woke, he hurriedly scribbled down his thoughts and what he remembered about the dream, realizing that it would be an amazing plot for a story.

He suddenly felt like it was a shame to keep all of his ideas to himself. He stared at the countless notebooks that were scattered on the ground and, suddenly, it hit him.

Parker knew what he wanted for his birthday – to be able to publish his ideas.

So, as he stood and stretched, one of his objectives of the day became crystal clear.

He was going to start publishing, just like Selina said, and it was going to start today.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Beginning

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protector-of-tinies · 1 year

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ROOMMATE WANTED, PART 2

Part 1

The next day found Joe at work, hanging his head and hunched over in front of his computer screen. No closer to finding a solution for his pest problem at home. The period before he had left for work in the morning had been surprisingly quiet and uneventful (even fairies needed their sleep after an all-night party), although the apartment had looked like a disaster area. It was amazing how a group of women that tiny could create so much clutter and mayhem. Half of Joe's consciousness was grateful to be going to work, looking forward to the respite provided by good old-fashioned mind-numbing labor and glad to be leaving before the little trolls woke up. The other half was what kept him from being able to concentrate on the job. He was just waiting for the phone on his desk to ring with an angry landlord giving news of some disaster at home.

Lunch break couldn't come soon enough. When it mercifully arrived, he walked next door to the restaurant that he frequented at this time of day. A couple of his coworkers were already there and they gave him a cheerful wave before returning to their meal together and politely ignoring him.

Joe ordered the usual and sat down at a nearby table—alone, as always. He brooded and picked at his food for awhile, almost failing to notice another of his coworkers sitting across the room.

Her name was Rachel. She was the only woman—or person, for that matter—who ever seemed to notice him in the workplace. Certainly the only person to really give him the time of day and to engage in any unnecessary conversation with him. He didn't even know her well at all, and the two had talked only rarely and briefly, but she seemed friendly and open.

Surprised, he noted that she was looking at him…or maybe at someone sitting near him? She smiled and waved in his direction, though her expression looked a bit concerned. Mustering a weak twitch of the lips, he waved back awkwardly with the look on his face probably approaching a grimace. Was she just being polite, he had wondered before, or was she actually interested in getting to know him at all?

Staring at his food instead of at her relieved a bit of the tension, so he quickly became a wholehearted follower of this new doctrine and peered at his plate as if contemplating the mysteries of the universe.

"Excuse me? Hi."

The voice sent a jolt through his system and his head jerked up to see Rachel standing beside his table, her long black hair lustrous under the cheap lighting.

"Mind if I sit with you for a moment?" she went on, before his brain had even caught up to her first statement. This latest turn of events was too much for him to process.

Not wanting to discourage her, he made an affirmative noise that came out somewhere between a squeak and a gurgle.

She sat down across from him and he was struck by how graceful she looked in performing such a simple, mundane act. Her eyes were big, her cheeks rosy, and she wore her hair tied back in a ponytail…professional, but not too stiff. She was nice-looking, but not a knockout by most people's standards. Her natural warmth made her much more attractive than she seemed on first glance, though.

"I hope I'm not intruding," she went on, "but you just seem really upset about something today. I thought you might need some company."

He gaped at her as if stricken, his facial muscles temporarily forgetting how to form a verbal response.

She didn't seem to notice. "Is it anything you want to talk about? Maybe it's none of my business--"

"Okay!" Joe croaked-a bit louder than necessary-as the dam broke free and the words finally began to pour out. He was horrified as he was unable to stop himself from babbling for the next ten minutes about his...uh, old rowdy college roommate named Keel--no, Kevin--who had come to visit and now wouldn't leave. She listened sympathetically as he went on about his place being trashed, his landlord possibly throwing him out if things got much worse, and his fear that the fire department might eventually have to be called in to rescue a smoldering building.

"That's awful!" she breathed when he was finally done. "Can't you just call the cops and get him out?"

"No! Uh...that is, he's a cop himself. Who are they going to believe, me or him?"

Rachel's eyes were positively brimming with empathy. He could have kissed her for it. "That's just unfair!" she said. "There's got to be something you can do!"

"Meh," was all Joe could manage. His previous outpouring of speech had used up most of his supply of words for the week.

They were both silent for a moment, until Rachel's face took on a determined look. "Why don't I come home with you after work and have a talk with him? I'll go in and make him see how selfish he's acting!" She suddenly looked a bit embarrassed and shyly added, "If that's all right with you."

"Eep!" Joe's soaring eloquence saved him once again.

***

The apartment door creaked open ominously. Joe sighed. His own apartment had never seemed ominous before, but knowing what tiny terrors awaited him inside made his heartbeat quicken. He took his key out of the lock and hesitated before stepping inside.

"Is something wrong?" Rachel asked, standing next to him. She caught herself. "Well, you already told me what's wrong, but you look terrified!"

You have no idea, Joe thought as he wondered again how he had let himself be talked into this. He knew the answer: because he was desperate and Rachel was a woman. Women always seemed to have some weird telepathic understanding of each other...didn't they? If anyone could make Keela listen to reason, it was probably Rachel.

What was Rachel doing here anyway? Why should she care enough to help him with this?

He finally got up his nerve and stepped inside the apartment. "Keela, I'm home! And I brought someone over!"

Rachel looked confused. "I thought you said his name was Kevin."

"Oh, you'll see in a minute," he assured her. "Keela! Someone wants to talk to you."

As he expected, there was no answer. The fairies seemed to pretty much ignore him most of the time, so this was no surprise. He made his way to the kitchen as Rachel gasped at the apartment's condition. There was a two-foot-wide burn mark on the carpet, the ceiling fan was partially unattached and hanging precariously, the place looked even more cluttered than before, and Chuck would have been glaring at him if plants could master such a feat.

"Just stay here in the living room for a second," Joe cautioned Rachel. "I'll go find him...her...IT!...and prepare him for our little talk."

A quick venture into the kitchen revealed that the little women were taking a break from their raucous troublemaking and had turned the kitchen counter into a mini day spa-complete with real mud masks. Joe suspected the mud had come from Chuck's flowerpot.

"Excuse me...ladies? If it's not too rude of me to break up this little retreat..." Joe was getting a bit feisty. He had a woman on his side now! He was unstoppable.

"I've got someone I'd like you to meet," he continued, smugly.

"Is it another one of the giant folk?" Keela piped up as she cheerfully adjusted her towel-well, actually it was a piece of a paper towel. "I say fine, as long as 'tis a waiter or a masseuse!"

"Even better!" Joe suppressed a surge of wicked glee as he pictured a human-sized masseuse prodding a fairy on the back. Splat! Hehehehehe.

"Well, be on with it and show the hulking brute in, then!"

Joe found Rachel in the living room waiting on the couch--part of which was soaked in something that smelled like gasoline--and led her to the kitchen.

"Brace yourself," he whispered to her, as they entered the room.

She gave him an odd look, but the look became much odder when she caught a glimpse of the kitchen counter. It resembled nothing so much as the look on an eight-year-old's face right before going down the big drop on his first roller coaster ever.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!" she screamed, instinctively grabbing on to Joe for protection with the force of an industrial clamp. Embarrassed, she let go and backed away; then she closed her eyes, gave a second look at the counter, and resumed screaming.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!"

Keela looked dubious. "I see. Well, I suppose she will do. Myself, I would have gone for a more maidenly 'Eeeeeeeek!' rather than an 'Aaaah,' but whatever tickles your liking."

Rachel was hyperventilating. "Joe...you have...tiny...people...in your kitchen?"

"So, you brought this somewhat-less-large one for entertainment, now, did you?" Keela's skeptical look intensified. Her lip screwed up into an expression that would have been cute on someone who looked less like the Antichrist.

Rachel looked at Joe intensely, her eyes pleading for proof of her sanity.

"Rachel..." he began weakly, "This is Kevin...Keela. She's the one I was telling you about. And she brought friends."

She stared at him.

"You wouldn't have believed me if I had told you the truth," he finished miserably.

"The truth?" Keela's eyes widened in mock horror. "You cannot mean..."

She looked around at the other pixies on the counter, then down at herself. "It is true! Fairies do exist!"

The rest of the fairies whooped and joined in celebrating Keela's epiphany.

Joe sorely wished he could push her into her own sar-chasm.

***

After Joe had taken Rachel into the living room, sat her down, made her a cup of coffee, and done his best to calm her, she finally started to come around.

Keela fluttered over and sweetly asked, "Is there any small thing I may get for you, love? Cream? Sugar? Some cyanide?"

Rachel stared at her wordlessly, eyes still wide. She looked over at Joe like a scared little girl seeking support from her daddy.

He cleared his throat hesitantly. Some of his earlier confidence had faded after seeing Rachel so shaken. "Actually, Keela, she...um, we...were hoping to talk with you about this whole living arrangement."

He cursed himself mentally. Don't seem so wishy-washy, like some sorry wimp asking for permission! Lay down the law! Let her know whose turf this is.

"Ah, yes!" Keela smiled. "The arrangements of living are most agreeable here, excellent host!" She said the "excellent host" part in the same tone she would have used to say, "Good dog!"

Joe steeled himself and set his jaw like Clint Eastwood in a Wild West standoff. "We're going to have a woman-to-woman discussion...or at least, that was the original plan...about you. In my apartment. Getting out. Now."

"Oh dear, this is muchly troubling!" She made a show of pondering it for a moment, then abruptly flew back to the kitchen.

Joe and Rachel sat in silence for a few seconds.

"I guess that means no," Joe sighed.

He heard whispering and giggling from the kitchen, soon followed by uproarious laughter. Evidently, the fairies were "considering" the proposition.

The laughter continued. Finally, Joe spoke up loudly and said, "All right, Rachel, I guess there's nothing we can do to save this building. We'll just have to leave and go buy some matches for the big fire later."

Rachel looked at him questioningly. He motioned for her to play along.

"Looks like we're going to torch the place!" he continued.

A dozen fairy heads peeked out at him from the kitchen.

Keela fluttered toward him. "What did the giant say, now?"

"Oh, I was just saying we have to burn the building down," he said matter-of-factly. "It's a human custom...you wouldn't understand."

"What, now?"

"Whenever a building becomes unsalvageable and needs to be torn down, we just burn it. It saves on the cost of a wrecking crew."

He acted dismissive, then gave Rachel a slight nudge and a pointed stare.

She was a bit startled. "Oh...yes! We have another human custom called 'insurance.' We burn the buildings down to collect money from them. Everyone does it...it's nothing personal, you understand."

Keela was biting her lip, speechless for what--Joe assumed--was probably the first time in her life.

"Come on, Rachel," he said, getting up from the couch. "Let's go to the store, like we were about to do."

Keela grumbled loudly. "Fine, then...if fairy gold 'tis not good enough for you..." The rest of her sentence was lost in a string of angry muttering. The words "bullying titan" might have surfaced a couple times. She went into a brief huddle with her comrades, then gave the two humans a hard look. "We will speak with the smaller giant in the food-habitat portion of the domicile."

"In the refrigerator?" Joe balked.

"In the kitchen, you great dunce! And no boy-giants allowed in the meeting! We have most important female-type matters to discuss."

"Fine." He shot Rachel a glance before leaving. She gave him a brave, forced smile as he went down the hall to his bedroom and shut the door gruffly.

While lying on his bed waiting for the all-clear, it was all he could do not to congratulate himself with gusto. He was very glad right now that he had gotten a woman to vouch for him. It didn't even matter that they had ejected him from the meeting...they could talk about hair and nails for all he cared! As long as this whole cohabitation business reached its inevitable end.

A scream and a scuffling sound from the kitchen made him shoot upright and dash out the door like a bolt from heaven. He reached the kitchen and looked around wildly. Rachel was nowhere to be found. Had something happened to her?

"Oh, boy-giant!" He heard Keela's voice from above.

His head snapped up to the overhead kitchen cabinet. At first, he only saw several fairies standing on the shelf. Then he gasped.

Keela and a few others were holding Rachel captive. A tiny, two-inch-tall version of Rachel.

This must be some kind of trick! Some illusion spell, maybe...

Keela smirked imperiously. "Methinks I have a few words for you, generous benefactor: Ha. Ha. Ha. We have taken your lady friend! Now, I think you will not want to burn this lovely place down, will you? Not with her in it, I expect."

Joe's throat tightened in dread. He lunged forward to grab Rachel out of the fairies' clutches. With a resounding boom, the cabinet doors slammed shut, almost trapping his fingers. He tugged on the handle with all the fervor of a pursued wildebeest, but it wouldn't budge. Almost like it was somehow locked from the inside! He couldn't even see how they had shut the enclosure so quickly. Telekinetic powers? It occurred to him that he had no idea what they were capable of. What else could they do besides flying and shrinking people?

He let out a good long scream, then put his head in his hands. Silence overtook the kitchen as he just stood there for a long time. After several minutes, the very, very faint sound of hushed voices from inside the cabinet made him carefully put his ear next to the sealed door.

"I tell you, Keela, you think 'twas a splendid idea getting the big bonecrusher angry at us? Very angry?"

"Myself, I care not a whit," came the smug reply. "He is a right clumsy oaf, anyway. We must defend what is ours, mustn't we?"

"You think Mother Nature will be upset with us for leaving the...the big green thing...how do the wingless behemoths refer to it?" said a timid voice.

"Park, recreation area, woodland?"

"The park, yes! Do you expect she will be?"

"She will be what?"

"Upset with us...for leaving?"

"Well," Keela replied absently. "We will not need to find out, will we? We have our cubical fortress made of tree, here."

Mother Nature? Joe's ears perked up. Were they fleeing from someone? They couldn't mean the actual Mother Nature, could they? Was she a living person? And they had mentioned coming from a park...he only knew of one nearby: a big one with plenty of trees and wooded areas. He would have to check it out. It was the only thing he could think to do at the moment.

"Say, our new captive is actually rather cute when she is not so towering!" a high-pitched voice was saying.

"Humpf." Keela's voice again. "She is not as pretty as us, but we will not be cruel to her, of course."

"Yes, let us have fun with her!"

Joe's pulse quickened. What did the word "fun" mean to them? What were they going to do to Rachel?

"Play dress-up with our new sister? Anyone?"

"Makeover! I have a kit here!"

"I have a darling little dress for her!"

Joe exhaled a profound sigh of relief. Then he rolled his eyes equally profoundly.

***

Twenty minutes later, he stood at the edge of the woods in the nearby park, just a few blocks away from his apartment. He looked around nervously, but was gratified to see that no one else was hanging around this area of the grounds. It was a relatively out-of-the-way corner.

Clearing his throat and feeling utterly moronic, he said, "I'm here to see Mother Nature. Can anyone tell me where to find her?"

There was only silence. Until the crickets started chirping...probably laughing at him with their fiendish little bug mandibles. What had he been expecting, anyway? Was one of the trees supposed to start talking to him? Maybe a cute little talking squirrel, bounding out of the forest with acorn in hand, was what he had wanted?

"Is anyone there? I don't mind talking to trees!" he tried desperately.

He let out his breath and gave it one last shot. "I'm here about the fairies that I think used to live here!"

There was a sound of someone coughing in startled surprise. He turned to look, and suddenly it was like someone had flipped a light switch on inside his head. Off to the side, he could now see what had been hiding in plain sight but had somehow escaped his notice. Probably because he wasn't meant to see it until now.

A three-foot-tall man with rough, brown skin and mossy, green hair approached him with an amusingly quizzical look. "The fairies, you said?"

"Ahhhh...uhhhhh..." Good gosh, Joe thought. This "meeting mythical creatures for the first time" business never gets any easier, does it? He wrestled with his mouth to make it work intelligibly after the jolt to his brain.

The brown man graciously saved him from talking. "What do you know about the fairies?"

"They're...uh, living in my apartment. And they won't leave. And they've got my, uh...my friend held captive. In the cabinet."

The small man's jewellike green eyes glittered with excitement. He turned around. "Tell the Mother we've found them! She'll definitely want to see this guy!" he yelled to the seven-foot-tall brown man standing further back-who had also been unnoticeable until just a few seconds ago, although he was hard to miss. He looked a lot like the smaller man, but much more muscular and somewhat less human. The bulky humanoid nodded his assent and disappeared into the trees.

"Come on!" the small, brown man called, grabbing Joe's hand and leading him forward with enthusiasm.

"What was he? That guy that just left?" Joe's daze hadn't worn off yet.

"Oh, him? He's a hobgoblin. One of the caretakers of the forest. We all are. The hobgoblins do most of the heavy lifting and that kind of thing."

"And...what are you?"

"I'm a smaller version of a hobgoblin, essentially. The others like me are known as hob-bits."

"So you're like the miniature cousins of the hobgoblins?"

"A bit."

"Wow," Joe said. "Hob-bits." He tried and failed to wrap his head around everything.

"I'm Bill, by the way. Bill Beau. I forgot to introduce myself earlier."

Joe groaned. Perfect, he thought. Just perfect! Out of the frying pan and into the Shire.

"This way!" Bill Beau yelled as he led Joe deeper into the leafy green madhouse that could only be likened to an environmentalist's acid trip.

#sfw g/t #giant/tiny #g/t #g/t writing #g/t fiction #fairies #shrunk #m/f #tiny female

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sweetestpieces · 1 month

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Jules interrogating you after you shrink.

#g/t #g/t fluff #g/t fiction #g/t writing #giantess #euphoria #hunter schafer #jules vaughn #shrink #tiny #giant tiny

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yeenybeanies · 11 months

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Chapter 7 of “Make It Better” [giant!ghost au] is up!

can’t repost it here for now bc i’ll be traveling for a few days, but you can read it on my ao3!

#call of duty #cod #g/t #g/t writing #g/t fiction #ghostsoap #soapghost #john mactavish #simon riley

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mayday396 · 1 year

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Prologue Chapter

In the Mountains of Svyatogor, Winter is a constant Weather, the People had the Sun for Light in the Day, it's only when the Winds howl and bring forth the Storm then Dusk comes.Deep in the Valleys of the Mountains is where a little town, or rather to the Natives of the Mountains, a food resource that could a bunch of Dangerous Pest if not taken care of.

So far the Natives, or called Giants by the 'Pests', have not found this settlement and only those who are Pests know of such a place, these Pests are called Humans and as long as they can remember, Wars and Conflicts were fought on both Sides since the Beginning of Time.The settlement was called 'Antiochus', a Fortification and Little Village of sorts to Train Humans to be Giant Hunters, to defend this Stronghold even to a bitter end.

Lanterns scattered across the Village made of Scrap Metal, that have been left behind after making Swords, Arrows and many other Weapons, and Oil, that had a Scent like Roses and Olives.In the Great House where the Chief lives, a Boy newly arrived from Gishban woke up, he was still shaking, quivering at both the bitter Coldness of the Weather and what he had witnessed before coming here, the boy was no less younger than 5 years old, he had already seen so much...pain.

As he struggled and shivered to stay warm in his Blanket while on the Cold Stone floor, it was so cold he could see his own Breath, a woman in her Wintery Nightgown came, holding a lantern around and saw him, "Boy! What are you doing out of Bed?"She asked him, the Woman had a stern tone but she was certainly shocked at the Boy trying to both sleep on the Cold floor and keep himself Warm, 'Where did the Chief even find this boy? From Gishban of all places?!' She thought to herself, as she heard the boy try to speak their Language, "L...Light?"

The boy pointed to the Fireplace, "Ohhh ah....I see"She roughly understood what the boy was trying to imply, and set down her Lantern near the Fireplace as she gestured to the boy to come and learn to light a Fire, "See? Just Rub your hands with this stick to this wood and then you see Smoke" The Boy nodded and soon after many tries got it right and was able to make the Fireplace light up, the boy giggled and smiled at the Fire he has created and the Woman sighed and told him, "Okay now go sleep alright?" As she was about to leave, the Boy tugged on the ends of her Nightgown, "Mm!"

She looked behind her and asked the Boy, "What is it?"The Boy simply pointed to his head and solemnly said, "Bad.... dream" The Woman knelt down and pet the head of the boy and asked him, "What was it about?" The Boy shivered at the very thought of it and said, "The....the Monsters....they...."She sighed, and gave the boy a hug, "We all have Nightmares too because of them, don't be too sad, you're not alone okay?"The Boy barely understood what he just heard but it did comfort him enough to fall asleep.

"Now you should go to sleep"The Woman placed him back to the Couch he was sleeping on for now, "Good Night, Young Master"She said to him and got her lantern and smiled at him sleeping peacefully once again, but once she was out of sight, the Boy mumbled in his sleep, his face frowned in fear and confusion, "Mama...Baba...wake up...."The Boy shivered as the muffled desperation of his voice only grew as his face went into the Pillow, gripped the Blanket and streams of Tears flow from his eyes.

'What kind of pain did this Boy witness?' The Woman who was watching all this time wondered before shaking her head and headed up the Staircase and into her Bed.

Somewhere in other areas of Svyatogor, out of the Towering Walls, out of its Gates, a Giant Knight of massive Height chased after another Giant far bigger than him and shouted, "Master! I beg of you please don't go!"The Knight Knelt, one leg off the ground and the other on it as his Greatsword plunged into the ground, as he looked up at his Old Master

The Old Master was hooded in an old worn out cloak, two massive Battle Axes crossed on his back, Armor made of Steel over his simple Dark Blue Linen Shirt, styled with Gold designs and reached to his knees while he wore Black Cotton Pants with chainmail and plated Armor cover vital parts of his body, he wore Gauntlets of Metal and it even covered his Legs and Various Vital points of his limbs.

The Old Man stood over Trees, his knees brushing against them, as the Giant Knight that greeted him was really only up to his knees too, the aura of superiority and Intimidation filled the Atmosphere as the Snowstorm around them rages on, the Knight couldn't exactly look up at him, to be honest he feels just as terrified as nature around him quiver at the sight of him, "Master...we've nearly won this fight! Why are you leaving now?"The Old Master simply sigh, you can hear his tiredness and the deepness of what he was saying despite not saying anything in the First place.

The Old man bent down, to look at his Disciple, and pointed to his heart and made a crossed out sign, the Knight frowned and ensheathed his Sword, "Master! It can't be....but you fight so well...your heart is in the right place! Please give us more time we will eradicate those Pests away from the Homelands, and can't you imagine the taste of each bite of their Flesh? They deserve this look what they did to you!"The Old Man sighed some more and told him in a form of Sign Language.

Pointing to his eyes then down to his throat and to his ears, before standing up and lightly knocking his forehead, "Ow! What was that for?!"The Old Master was about to leave and just before he started walking away, he pointed to his head and disappeared into the Blizzard and leaving the Knight bewildered.When he came to his senses and looked to hands, "What an I even supposed to think about?"He sighed and walked away, "I hope to meet you again Master, wherever you are"The Giant Knight got back on his Horse and rode back to the Walled city known as Belobog.On this very same Day, the fates of Two people, will change the very land and grounds they stand on.

This is a Tale of the Seasons, a tale of finding each other in the Darkest of worlds and a Tale of Renuion.

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The Prologue of the G/t Story has been released! Chapter 1 will probably come soon since I'm in a Writing mood! So enjoy this Story and give me your thoughts on this, how to improve, what you like about it, etc.

Genre is Low Fantasy with a little bit of Dark Fantasy mixed into it and inspired by Historical settings in different parts of the World.

So G/t and Original story readers, I hope you like this and I will see you in Chapter 1!

@greatgigintheskiess @starskichild

It's here my wittle babies

UPDATE:

Chapter 1 is out y'all may read it!

#g/t story #g/t original story #g/t related #g/t community #g/t #g/t fiction #low fantasy #dark fantasy #historical fantasy #in a writing mood #prologue #parental g/t #continuing story

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