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[entomolog-t]

Finding Strength- Chapter 2

Nearly A WHOLE YEAR after the first chapter WE ARE BACK !!

Meet Rose, a varsity athlete who should needs to pay more attention to the concussion safety protocols. Also Grayson (you'll see a lot more of him eventually)

- - - -

Next Chapter: Chapter 3

Word count: 2160

CW: Adult language

Rose smiles. She smiles as the sweat beads that slick her brow drip into her eyes. She smiles as her limbs grow heavy, arms burning and near useless. She even, to the displeasure of her teammate, smiles as she drills. Her grin an ever present, and rather unnerving, fixture on her face as the duo works their way through their umpteenth repetition of speed drills. 

Through gritted teeth Grayson Wilder manages to hiss out a quick knock-it-off before being met her forehead ramming square into his gut as she shoots yet another blast double. As her she makes contact, Grayson is swiftly reminded why pre practice Mcdonalds was a terrible idea. 

Who even drills blast doubles during speed drills anyways? 

As Rose plows through the take down, Grayson uses the brunt of his mental fortitude to curse their coach for having dared to suggest that doing some extra drilling with Rose would be light go’s for him- that, and to keep his meal firmly where it belonged. 

Grayson lands with a grunt, and Rose takes the time to give him a sympathetic look before the two hustle back to standing, only to repeat the whole process again.

And again.

And again.

And- 

The sound of the score clock's buzzer could have been a choir of angels to either athlete at this point. Sweaty, drained and sore, Rose sighs- not from fatigue, but instead satisfaction. There was a buzzing in her arms, shaky and electric with that telltale combination of adrenaline and exertion. Speed drills objectively sucked. Getting stuck with one of the 90 kilo men for a partner sucked even more. But losing her shot to go to Nationals last season has sucked the most. This season would be great- even if that meant she would have to favor the monotony of drilling rather than the excitement of scrimmage.

Think big. Rose grins, testing the sound of her new little mantra in her head. First early birds, then provincials then-

“Rose!”

Her thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a shout from her coach. Hank Miller beckons her over, a cheeky smile on his face as she jogs towards him.

“Another double and Grayson looked about ready to turn Green… son.”

Rose wishes she has the self control to groan, but instead, she laughs. 

“Think he’s McLovin it?”

“He’ll be McLoving his sauna suit, that's for sure.” Hank shakes his head. With sigh he hands her a packet. Though as Rose grabs it, Hank doesn't let go. Eyebrows raised expectantly, his smile is replaced by a more stern expression. 

“Filled out by Monday, got it?” 

Rose rolls her eyes, but Hank’s grip remains firm.

“Don't lose it.” 

In a feat of self control that could rival that of monks, Rose resists the urge to inform Hank that it's not impossible to print another copy. Though in fairness, with his downright cretaceous tech literacy, there were good odds that for him, it may in fact be impossible.

“Yes, Mom.”  Finally, he relinquishes the thick stack of redundancy forms. With the packet in tow, Rose makes a B-line for her water bottle. Quick drink, stretches… maybe some footspeed drills? The thought of managing to get her legs to move with the growing weight of fatigue and lactic acid setting in was far from appealing, and there was also the weight of impending assignment deadlines to consider…

It should be a felony to have assignments due the first week of the school year...

With a groan, Rose downs her water as she meanders back on the mat to start her stretches, the cool water an oasis in the mugginess of the wrestling room. Though, the coolness of the water does nothing to hide the red hot glare she can feel burning a hole into the back of her head. A quick glance behind her reveals Hank, with a frustratingly smug pair of raised eyebrows as he casts a nod toward her packet; left abandoned on the sidelines.

With all the subtlety of an air horn at a funeral, Rose makes a show of bringing the oh-so-precious forms to her bag, grin smeared across her face as she plays up her exasperation. She can hear Hank laughing behind her, along with another “Monday” for good measure. 

Looking over her shoulder Rose makes sure to shoot him a glare of her own as she shoves the papers into the front pocket of her-

A scream.

Head on a swivel, Rose's eyes immediately lock onto the source-  a strained yelp escaping her as the sight sends her sprawling back. Her mind races, fumbling as it strains to make sense of what she was almost certain could not have been in her bag. 

“...You good?” Hank’s voice feels like a lifeline back to reality, reeling Rose in from her shock. 

“Uhh y-yeah, no. I'm good.” She lies,  “Just, uh, papercut.”

Rose didn’t move. Hell, she wasn’t even sure if she had been breathing. She was frozen- feeling as if even a blink would dispel the almost certainly not real reality that stared back at her.

There's…. There's a man- A very small man- in my bag.

Rose swallows nervously. Had she hit her head and not realized? Grayson had made her eat mat on at least one failed attempt at a leg shot… Could concussions cause hallucinations? 

There's a tiny man in my bag.

They definitely could, right? Rose couldn’t help but notice the irony that she couldn’t remember the stupid Safe Sport Concussion Awareness presentation. What was more concerning?  Hallucinations from a grade 2 concussion, or finding a tiny man in her bag?

Rose blinked.

There's still a tiny man in my bag.

In a far away reality, she hears the muffled voice of Hank asking if she's sure she's alright. 

Rose hurriedly gathers up her bag at his approach.

“I’m good. Totally good. I… I uh… gotta go.”

_   _   _

Those few stuttered words were all the warning Tamius had before he was flung backwards as the bag was torn from the ground. 

A plan- he needed a plan. Anything- 

Instead, Tamius was met by sheer chaos. His word topples over itself, rising and falling and sending him careening into the wall of fabric. A horrible realization dawns on him.

She’s running. 

Dread seemed to be the only thing anchoring him to reality as Tamius remained a victim to gravity’s indecisiveness. 

He’d been caught. 

That behemoth idiot had fucking caught him- Tamius grit his teeth.

No. Not yet. 

White knuckled, Tamuis clung to the fabric of the bag. His eyes desperately scanning in the low light for the hole he’d cut.  If he could make it back into the larger compartment he could buy himself some time taking cover in her clothes- there’d be an opportunity for escape. He was sure there would be. He’d make one.

In a mix of determination and desperation, Tamius fights against the rhythmic lurching, an awful feeling of vertigo boring down on him as his hands scramble for new grips, something- anything- to pull him closer to that fucking hole. 

A lock clicked. 

The sound slicing through him-  an executioner's bell condemning him to his fate.  

No, no, no- not yet! 

The stillness that followed was truly terrifying, a contagious beast freezing him, and time itself, in place. Reality itself seemed to hold a change, like the feeling before a storm- his muscles tense, and hair standing on its end, as if current was running through him. It was an electric sort of dread- a missed step, an object about to fall, the moment before impact- 

No.

The impact came in the form of five grotesquely large fingers diving into the pocket, looking far more like a Hellish mass of writhing limbs than the hands he was familiar with.

Every ounce of his being screamed- all thoughts coalescing to one;

Get to the rip.

In that moment, Tamius was not a man. He was not a being of higher intelligence. In that moment he felt no soul, no empathy, no love. He was a desperate animal scrambling towards a corner. There was no safety waiting for him just beyond the rip. All that waited behind the fabric were a few extra tortured seconds of delusion. A few painful moments where he could pretend he could reason his way out of this and avoid the reality barreling down on him in the form of five gruesome fingers. 

Though reality, it seemed, had other plans.

The fingers coiled around him, engulfing Tamius in their impossible mass. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, echoed by that of the flesh pulsing around him- the feeling so deeply sickening he could taste bile on his tongue. Tamuis’ stomach lurches as he’s dragged out, hands grasping pointlessly for anything as he's brought forth in front of a sickeningly familiar 

face.  

That gargantuan fucking idiot. 

He wanted to scream. He wanted to fight back. He wanted to kick, and bite and scratch until she had to let him go. He wanted so desperately to be the cause of even the smallest amount of pain. Anything to wipe that ridiculous awestruck stare off of her stupid face. Anything to pretend like there was something he could do to change the outcome.

But Tamius The Bestoyed,  was a man far too smart for his own good. Cursed with reason, he was granted no security in ignorance. Pride was reserved for those who could delude themselves into believing they were in control. Much to his horror, Tamius knew better. 

He’d been caught. 

Trapped in the fist of a colossus, Tamius swallowed his pride. Tamius was a man of intellect and reason. So he did what any man with intellect and reason would do. 

He begged. 

“Please.” His voice shook, thick with fear and desperation as garbled pleas spilled forth like a river in spring. The knowledge he so prided himself with failed him, his words a stunted mess of gasping pleases and begging to be let go. 

Her brow furrows. 

“Pl-please.” Despite himself, Tamius uselessly strained against her fingers, wracking his brain anything he could say. Her eyes, wide and gray, were locked onto him. 

Gray. 

Gray like foreboding skies. Gray like- 

She sucks in a breath, her eyes widening as some sort of thought passes through the near impenetrable density of her gargantuanly thick skull. For a moment, her mouth hangs agape- a look of confusion crossing her face as she takes her time forming a thought. 

“... Why are you crying?” 

Of all the things she could have said, Tamius had not been anticipating this.

What?

As if experiencing sympathy stupidity, his own mind goes blank, struggling to keep pace with her words. Was he? His face felt wet. 

Wait- what did she mean why? How stupid could she be- As if she wasn’t obviously the reason!  

Tamius wants to say something, but calling out her oblivious stupidity was out of the question. Before he’s able to gather his words, her hand opens up. No longer restrained in her grip, Tamius, completely and totally dumbstruck, finds himself sitting splayed out in her much too warm cupped hand. 

He’s hit with an onslaught of thoughts, as he rapidly begins reformulating any semblance of a plan.

Could he jump? Run? Where was he? Could he fit under the door? How would he get home-   

“Did I …” His thoughts are immediately silenced as she addresses him again, “... hurt you?” 

Her words catch him off guard, but not nearly as much as her expression. Concern. Embarrassment? She seemed horrified at the thought, her grey eyes scrutinizing him for any sign of injury in a way that bordered on violating. 

Too close- too much. 

Unable to find his voice, Tamius shakes his head, scrambling back as much as the limited surface of her hands would allow. The massive, and now that he had the chance to get a good look at her, very sweaty woman eyed him curiously. She thinks for a moment, brow furrowed as the act of thinking clearly was not something in which she was well practiced.

“How did you get so small?”

What? Get? 

His own expression mirrors hers, brow furrowing as realization dawns on him. 

This idiot Gargo thinks I’ve shrunk… 

If he wasn’t so terrified he would have scoffed. It would be his luck that he managed to have encountered the most gullible specimen of humanity imaginable. As if people just go around shrinking- wait. 

People.

She thinks I’m human.

His hands rush to his ears, relief washing over him as he feels his hair, mussed just enough from this whole ordeal to have covered their not quite human shape. This… this could work. Despite the way his hands shook, despite the way his heart pounded in his chest, despite the way this was far beyond the bounds of a worst case scenario, a wry smile tugged at the corners of his lips. 

What an idiot.

[entomolog-t]

What is a niche aspect of G/t that you dearly love that you don't get a chance to really talk about?

How it reflects on self-image.

I think that's the niche one that I don't talk about enough, though I bring it up a little bit in my works. The idea that, particularly in most media where you aren't used to being at the perspective you're suddenly in (you're small around people who are bigger, or big around people who are smaller, and it's something you've either never experienced before or haven't experienced much) how that will change how you see yourself.

Melanie in The Rescue for example has existing concerns about her appearance and how people see her to begin with, and that becomes wildly amplified when someone small is nearby. She covers her mouth while she's eating, she tries to keep her head and face pointed up and away when she's feeling extremely self-conscious.

If you hate the idea of constantly being noticed, judged, critiqued, scrutinized, etcetera, then suddenly being a Giant to someone else/other people has to be fucking hell. Any issues you have with your self-image normally aren't exactly put aside when your face is the size of a movie-screen and you know people's eyes don't usually come with those lovely hollywood-glam filters they put over actors in film.

As a Giant are you now more worried about being in the way? About being a problem for people? About causing damage or harm accidentally? Or are you being pressured to do more, be more simply because of how other people see you?

On the flip-side of that, if you're suddenly small, do you feel much more vulnerable? Do you feel like you're under significantly more threat? Have you lost a feeling of control that you desperately needed to keep a sensation of being safe?

Do you feel disposable? Do you feel useless? Are you more of a burden now than you were before, so reliant on others in a world that isn't built to help you? That might not feel like it's even interested in helping you?

Do you feel invisible? Easily forgotten? If you were used to being the center of attention before, does this absolutely shatter that or suddenly make that lifestyle feel like a waking nightmare? \

Do you feel like you're not enough?

If you were having those issues and feelings before, how are they amplified or changed now? How are they messed with, skewed, possibly erased in some cases?

I try to bring a good bit of these perspectives into my writing where I can, but it can be exhaustingly introspective and feel extremely heavy both to read and to write, but I can't say that I'm not fascinated by it.

Thank you so much for the ask, love! <3

[entomolog-t]

i am... not immune to orcawood

[entomolog-t]

misc abridged rp doodles for serotonin

[entomolog-t]

I think I've finally figured out some OC voice claims. Well- sorta.

I've narrowed down a bunch of my OCs to 1-3 ideas. I think it'll be fun to draw them saying some lines and feel out which ones suit them the best 👀

Very excited to post this - mainly cause some of them are a bit silly/unexpected.

[entomolog-t]

Listen if I could actually size shift in real life there would be so many things I’d be doing just cause I could.

Like I watch a lot of YouTube, what better way to watch it then building a mini fort, placing my phone into the fort and shrinking down to watch it like I’m at a movie theater. Just instead of a movie it’s just one of the YouTubers I like to watch.

I would also purposely make a bubble bath in a normal bath tub, grab my giant rubber ducky, and just shrink down and have some fun. I’m riding the giant rubber duck and no one can stop me okay?

You know those giant squishmellows? The 20-ish inch ones? Yeah imma shrink down and just lay on it like a giant bean bag.

The fact is that there would be so many times someone would walk into my room just to see me doing something weird at a small size and then they’d probably just close the door awkwardly after making eye contact with me. So what if I was making a painting using my body as the brush for the paint while wearing a swimsuit and I was caught making snow angels out of paint? Who are they to judge me???

[entomolog-t]

Rendered pages originally drawn by the amazing @somerandomdudelmao !

Check out their work, they’re awesome :)

Origional comic can be found here !

Again, this comic does not belong to me. I simply colored and rendered pages made by the original creator @somerandomdudelmao

[entomolog-t]

can we see more of pazu being silly? (any au)

we're on a roll with ghostswap so here's more ghostswap pazu being sillay

i've come to the conclusion that he's a university student (since that's around the age he died anyhow) studying botany, but literally everyone hates him because he is a freak (theo is just optimistic and dumb)

[entomolog-t]

He always asks first, for he is a gentleman 

Chanti (fairy) and Paprika (Spider) belong to Aerim on discord ~

[entomolog-t]

Gawwww! They’re holding hands <333~

[entomolog-t]

I'm so glad you mentioned @belethlegwen cause I literally had her in mind writing this! The way she integrates sailing/boat terminology is perfect in my eyes.

(Also side eye for accurately getting called old lol👀)

Oh man! But your point about camping - YES.

Honestly very happy with this feedback!! I am SO excited for Fridays post!!

Writing Question

A few of my OCs participate in sports (and honestly this question works for odd hobbies too) and I was curious if anyone had any advice or thoughts on terminology.

I really dislike reading the equivalent of an infographic in fics, even if its a subject I'm not very familiar with, and especially in action sequences it really breaks the pace. I don't like the terminology being too clinical either. I'm sure we've all read something on a topic we're familiar with from an author who has clearly researched but never experienced the subject (no judgement ! I don't expect everyone to have experienced first hand everything they write about)

ANYWAYS - I personally like to use a couple context cues, descriptors and the sport specific words (which tends to include odd terms/slang ect..). Though I'm worried that in doing so it could be a bit difficult to follow for some.

For example:

Gen pop vocab : She tackled him

Niche sport vocab : She hit a blast double.

I would write something like: She closed the distance- head ploughing into his gut as she ran through him. God, he hated blast doubles.

^ Theres still some sport vocab, but I try to integrate it close to the descriptors.

[entomolog-t]

His friends dared him to do it.

Source

[entomolog-t]

Writing Question

A few of my OCs participate in sports (and honestly this question works for odd hobbies too) and I was curious if anyone had any advice or thoughts on terminology.

I really dislike reading the equivalent of an infographic in fics, even if its a subject I'm not very familiar with, and especially in action sequences it really breaks the pace. I don't like the terminology being too clinical either. I'm sure we've all read something on a topic we're familiar with from an author who has clearly researched but never experienced the subject (no judgement ! I don't expect everyone to have experienced first hand everything they write about)

ANYWAYS - I personally like to use a couple context cues, descriptors and the sport specific words (which tends to include odd terms/slang ect..). Though I'm worried that in doing so it could be a bit difficult to follow for some.

For example:

Gen pop vocab : She tackled him

Niche sport vocab : She hit a blast double.

I would write something like: She closed the distance- head ploughing into his gut as she ran through him. God, he hated blast doubles.

^ Theres still some sport vocab, but I try to integrate it close to the descriptors.

[entomolog-t]

Big thanks to @entomolog-t for this commission of Thistle and Moon from Watch Your Step!

The first image is how a human would see it. The second image is how it would look to a species that can see in UV wavelengths, and is how Thistle sees himself!

He buzzes his wings when he's happy :)

@static-stars

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[entomolog-t]

imagine a giant carefully unbuttoning their sleeves and rolling them up, exposing their forearms

[entomolog-t]

sometimes g/t headcanons are about gentleness, about humility, about the vulnerability it takes to place your entire life in someone else’s hands. and sometimes it’s about imagining how hard you could throw that fucker into the ocean if they were small

[entomolog-t]

imagine a giant carefully unbuttoning their sleeves and rolling them up, exposing their forearms