smallbigworld

[smallbigworld]

Scars

Part 50 of my story! Holy bingle! Read the index and content warnings here. ...pation. There's fighting and stuff in this.

Harry Avery was no stranger to the horrors of war, and the display in front of him was no less revolting. Never in his life had he seen two men fight as wildly and desperately as the men on the table in front of him were fighting: no decorum, no rules, no limits, one punch landed after another until each fighter's face was downright unrecognizable. The heads of drunken giant patrons bobbed in front of him all the while and cheered with delight at the carnage. The basement they were packed into reeked of cheap beer and their rancid breath. Then the excitement swelled when the tiny fighter to Harry’s right knocked the one to his left over and clambered on top of him, pummeling his opponent’s face repeatedly as Harry waited for a referee that would never come to call the match. There was no tap-out, of course, no ringing of a bell - the fight wasn’t declared a victory until the man on the ground had stopped moving and the victor had shakily risen to his feet, throwing his bare fists up in glory.

This was a tiny fight, a pre-show of sorts to a dog fight that would serve as the main event, Harry had learned.

“Those roaches aren’t gonna come back to that farmhouse.” Danny had said of the snatchers. “They’ll find some new place to infest. Where you WILL find them is at the fights... unless they got locked up or had a sudden change of career.”

In his four months of searching Harry had encountered neither Frankie nor Lessard. Fortunately, he hadn’t encountered Joe either, though he had heard the name Piccoli being bandied about various underground fighting venues with worrying frequency. This was what had kept him coming back to basement after basement and barnhouse after barnhouse, helplessly scanning the fighters in the ring in search of the one face that he would always recognize, no matter how battered or broken it may be. It sickened him to be part of this crowd, and he didn’t know how to feel about the way they had welcomed him in with open arms. His burn scars, his patched clothes, the dark circles around his eyes, all ensured he had an intimidating look about him that allowed him to fit right in.

The organizer plucked the unconscious man who was not Joe from the tabletop and the rest of the crowd grew electric with anticipation for the dogs to come out. This was Harry’s cue to leave.

These things weren’t supposed to happen in Canada, Harry maintained. This was not what he had fought for. As he returned home the pointlessness of the fight weighed heavy on him. He knew all too well how those fighters felt.

-

“Thank you for your concern, Mr. Avery. We’ll look into it. In the meantime, try calling the SPCA." Said the officer on the other end of the phone.

Harry, who had already called the SPCA and been told to call the police instead, hung up on the cop without a word and felt no shame in it. Reporting the fights to any halfway-relevant authority had become as much of a ritual as attending them, and every officer promised the same thing: we’ll look into it. Naturally they never did, and he felt as though he were going mad. Tiny fighting, he had learned, had been theoretically outlawed since the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Act of 1892. What was the point of laws, he wondered, if nobody enforced them?

He looked down at his knuckles. Remembering the blood, he felt hollow. He tried to turn his brain off as he ventured up the stairs to ready himself for bed, but the silence lent itself too well to thinking, and right now all Harry could think about was how much noise Joe used to make without Harry realizing it. There had once been the rustling of movement, the flipping of paper, the sound of tiny pencil scratches, subtle reminders that he was not alone. That there was still humanity left in the world.

Harry hardly felt human as he glanced at his reflection in the mirror. The crescent-shaped burn along his jawline had turned shiny then scarred over, leaving him looking not unlike those who had survived the gas attacks during the war. In hindsight he was thankful to Danny for stopping him in the woods and talking him into going home, for in the days after Danny had left his burnt earlobe had turned gangrenous to the point of needing surgical removal. It was a blessing of modern medicine that the infection had not spread, and while he couldn’t be certain, he could hazard a guess that wading through lake water, ripping across a cornfield, and slogging about in the woods had done his injuries no favours.

He wondered what day of the trial Danny was currently on as he brushed his teeth. Maybe he would see the fake Danny at tomorrow’s picture show, gleefully dancing for his masters while the real one was fighting them in court.

Better that than fighting a fellow miniature on a table for the giants' amusement, Harry figured, though only barely.

-

It wasn't the shells or the snipers or even Georgie that had been haunting Harry's nightmares lately. Ever since the fire, it was the threat of gas that plagued his animal mind every night. The smoke, the burning, the helplessness, all of it had been twisted into nightmares that were not about the fire itself, but about gas, to the point even the smell of his own morning cigarette left him queasy.

It was the gas that had been most insidious, after all, not through its presence but its absence. The threat of it had lurked in the back of every soldier's mind and driven even the bravest of them mad with anxiety, to the point that being gassed in itself had brought some odd relief when it finally happened. Every man knew what to do during a gas attack; you donned a mask if you had one, pissed on a rag and covered your face with it if you didn't. What truly eroded the spirit was the perpetual state of uncertainty they lived under in the interim while waiting for the gas to come, that maddening sense of never knowing what they would be dealing with.

How strange it was, Harry thought, that it was these things that weren't there that held the most sway over people.

He put his cigarette out on the porch railing and turned his attention to the paper. He took it inside and sat with it on the parlour couch, appreciating the dullness of the present moment.

Front page news of the latest bank robbery would soon be of great interest to Harry, but for now he flipped past the most recent article in favour of the classifieds section. Joe and Danny weren’t the only ones he was thinking about. Susie was another soul who had gradually disappeared as the months had rolled by, and although she had told him she might be hard to reach, it was still worrisome. He kept on searching for rooms to let all the same and occasionally sent her clippings in the mail to no response. It was possible she was busy, of course, or she didn’t like his offerings, or had made new friends and forgotten all about Toronto. He tried not to think too hard about it.

He turned the page and his chest tightened. Right in the middle of it were a bunch of naked figures falling like ashes from a burning building. This was an ad he ought to have been used to by now, for it was in the paper every day – it featured the image of a painting curated by an out-of-town art gallery, one of many works at a reception that was supposedly COMING SOON. Soon in this case seemed to mean in three months or longer for that was roughly how long the ad had been running, and the image of the painting had gone from sketch to flat colours to shaded in that timeframe.

It was an obvious marketing ploy, and a good one at that - whenever the painting was finished, the gallery would surely open. He could only roll his eyes at the pretentiousness of it all and refuse to pay it any more attention out of spite, yet something about that image haunted him. The scene was too disturbingly familiar for his liking. It felt a little too real.

The clock in the parlour ticked away as Harry’s part time job drew near. It would be work today, then the errands, then, perhaps, he would finally make good on his word to Danny and pay Billy a visit – only after he had drawn a cheque for his mortgage at the bank, of course. Ever since his licence had been suspended Billy had insisted upon helping Harry pay his everyday expenses, and Harry, in turn, had insisted upon politely refusing. Thus, if he was going to talk to Billy, he would have to ensure all his expenses were covered so the man would have no opportunity to pay him any kindness.

Unfortunately for him, his latest job was also the most emotionally harrowing one he had taken to date.  

-

The waffle iron slammed down. Danny bared his teeth in agony and clawed at his leg. The other two dancers rushed to his side, tried to pull him out once, twice, three times…

This was the part of the film where Harry inevitably missed a note, and today was no different. His piano playing was stellar otherwise, or so the manager at the picture show had told him. He had seen Taking the Cake so many times now that he could pinpoint the second Danny sustained his life-changing injury. It had reached a point where he could even tell the scenes shot before Danny’s injury apart from the ones shot after - in the later scenes where Danny was dancing injured, he kept wincing through the smile on his face.

Playing piano at the picture show was nothing like playing alone with Joe, that much Harry had anticipated – there was no pride in it, no freedom, no happiness, just duty. The only reason he had agreed to the job was because abject homelessness would be even more shameful in his mind. What he had failed to consider was how surreal it was to watch his fellow giants howl in delight at a friend's pain and suffering. Not only that, but to keep on performing in his own right, adding a jaunty soundtrack to it all the while. It was the same feeling of dread that filled his chest whenever he saw empty jars.

When the show was over, he collected his thirty cents for the day and headed for the bank, making a mental note to find a better gig. The only silver lining was the possibility he would be able to pay his mortgage this month. Maybe the electricity, too, he thought as he shuffled into line at the marble banking hall on Yonge. Coal was another matter – winter was coming, and if he wanted to stay warm he might have to-

“Excuse me, sir.”

Harry jumped as a wrinkled hand tapped his shoulder. He turned and looked behind him to an elderly gentleman in a green suit smiling back at him. The stranger's voice sounded like a warmer version of his father's.

“If it’s not too intrusive, I just wanted to thank you for your service.” The old man continued.

Harry suppressed his nervous laughter and tried his best to smile. Exchanges like these were a regular occurrence now that he had visible scars.

“Oh, there’s no need to thank me, sir, it was the right thing to do – the only thing to do.” Harry stammered.

What had Harry done, he wondered?

“You’re too humble. That mustard gas…” The old man wheezed and Harry, slave to human decency that he was, could only listen patiently as the line to the teller moved at a pace that would put molasses to shame. “…awful stuff that was. You, you’re a real soldier.” The man said, patting Harry on his shoulder for good measure.

“Thank you, sir.” Was all Harry could say to such a thing.

“Not like that lousy nephew of mine. They discharged him for gas anxiety.” The stranger chuckled, then mercifully turned away from Harry, leaving him sickly with guilt in his wake.

Though it had been going on for weeks, Harry still wasn’t used to being scrutinized like this. He had always drawn attention for being tall, but ever since the burn wounds had healed, it was as though people saw his face and then filled in the blanks of who he was on his behalf – and whether they imagined his character to be positive or negative was something out of his control. Where some saw a criminal others saw a soldier, and anything in between. Lately he moved through the world with a strange sense that he had to prove something to these strangers, but he couldn’t figure out what that thing was.

The customer in front of him reached the teller after no less than an eternity had passed, and Harry’s mind wandered back to finances. He likely wouldn’t be able to afford coal, and if he couldn’t, it would mean he would have to sell something. His radio, or perhaps the motorcycle…

Finally another customer left and he neared the teller’s counter with his thirty cents in hand, knowing that selling either item would be equally painful. It would depend on how low his bank balance was, and he approached the counter with trepidation.

He was just about to make his deposit, cut his cheque and leave when the doors flung wide open. Harry looked on in confusion as the dying afternoon light spilled over the marble columns and arched cubicles like something out of a movie scene.

When a bank robber strutted through the doorway with rifle in hand, it became clear to Harry that he was now a part of the cast.

“Everybody get on the ground! Put your hands on your head!” The robber shouted as he pointed the barrel at anything and everything that dared to move. “No sudden movements!”

There were none. The bank-goers sank to the floor as slowly as they had moved when in line and did just as they were told. Everyone except for Harry, who was staring at the robber in disbelief.

Seeing that Harry was the only one still standing, the robber homed in on him and then aimed for the ceiling. Although the robber pulled the trigger three times, only two shots fired, and that was the moment all fear left Harry Avery.

The robber, seemingly unaware of the grave he had just dug for himself, drew closer.

“Get on the ground, you tall bastard!” The robber barked upon his approach and aimed the rifle straight at Harry's chest. “I’m not messin’ around!”

He certainly could have had Harry fooled. With his misshapen hat, his dusty coat, and his sorry excuse for a mask – which Harry was certain the robber had made by dismembering some poor woman’s silk stockings and cutting eye holes into the remains - he looked like something out of a clown act. That wasn’t what Harry was truly interested in, of course. It was the rifle in the boy’s hands that told him everything he needed to know; he may not have been a real soldier according to the fellow in the green suit, but even he could call the robber's bluff based on his choice of weapon alone. He would recognize the thing anywhere.

Harry straightened himself up to his full height of six foot three, and when the boy’s blue eyes widened behind his makeshift mask, Harry knew exactly what he was dealing with. If the comically half-assed get-up hadn’t given the little buffoon away the shivering certainly had. Harry only had thirty cents in his pocket, but he may as well have just won the lottery.

Frankie Van Assen approached Harry with all the bravado he could muster nonetheless, and with his rifle at the ready he said,

“Get on the ground or I’ll blow you to pieces.”

A dreadful silence filled the banking hall, broken only by the sound of tellers and clients shifting nervously as they watched the scene play out with horror. Harry glanced to the side table beside him, which the old man in the green suit had crawled underneath. He was gazing at Harry as if in worship. Somewhere behind the teller’s counter he could hear the sound of a phone receiver lifting from the hook.

Harry crossed his arms, turned his attention back to Frankie, and in the hopes of drowning out the whispers of the terrified bank teller behind him he replied,

“You’re gonna blow yourself to pieces. Don't you know what kind of rifle that is?”

Frankie blinked. His eyes darted down to the rifle, then back to Harry with a scowl.

Harry prodded a finger at Franke's rinky-dink, limp-dicked, pathetic excuse for a weapon and continued.

“That’s an old Ross rifle. We used those in the war. If you’re lucky it’ll fire, if you’re unlucky it’ll jam, and if you’re really unlucky it’ll explode and take you along with it.”

Frankie’s scowl widened into a look of confusion. This clearly wasn't in the script – nobody was supposed to know that the rifle was a bluff, as everything else about the boy was.

“Yeah? Wanna bet?” Frankie stammered.

“I do.” Said Harry.

Frankie’s finger tightened around the trigger. From behind the mask he looked as if he were about to cry.

“I-I’ll show you, then.” He said, his voice wavering.

Harry stood unimpressed as the boy squeezed his eyes shut. Only then did he squeeze the trigger. When nothing happened his eyes snapped open, and he squeezed it again, and again, and again, and he would have squeezed it a fifth time if the sound of a siren in the distance hadn’t broken his concentration.

The bank hall soon echoed with the sound of footsteps as Frankie’s would-be hostages saw their opportunity to escape and took it.

Frankie tried to join them, which was as predictable as his jammed rifle, and Harry, unscathed, snatched him by the coat collar and dragged him back before he could sprint off. The rifle spun out of Frankie’s hands, and when it hit the ground the third shot finally fired, not into Harry’s chest but into the base of a column across the room.

“Where is Joe Piccoli?” Harry growled.

“What!?" Frankie wrestled and fought so intensely that Harry had to hoist him clean off the ground with both hands. "Who the hell is-”

“Joe Piccoli! That tiny you sold last summer. I know it’s you, Frank.” Harry said.

“I-I don’t know anything! I don’t know any Piccolis, I swear!” Frankie insisted.

“Then I’ll hand you over to the police and you can tell them where you took him.”

Frankie dangled in the air as the sirens grew louder and his terror grew along with them. Harry watched with satisfaction as the last of Frankie's defiance turned to resignation.

“Mr. Wilkins has him!” He blurted out.

“Which Mr. Wilkins?” Asked Harry.

Harry knew an entire family of Wilkinses. It didn’t exactly narrow things down.

“Some rich guy!” Frankie cried, which narrowed things down even less. “Listen, I might have his address in my pocket somewhere.” Frankie kept on struggling against Harry’s grip in vain. “Put me down and I’ll try and find it for ya'.”

Harry glowered at him – he couldn’t be certain that Frankie wouldn’t run off again. Scanning the room, he deposited Frankie in the nearest corner and took great care to tower over him in menacing fashion.

Frankie rifled through his pockets as promised, and Harry could only stare in wonder as he carelessly dumped a staggering amount of junk onto the floor: a pile of of old receipts, crumbled dog treats, assorted nuts and bolts, a handful of acorns, a slingshot, a very smooth rock, six different keys in six different sizes, two real nickels and one fake one on a string… everything except for the address of Mr. Wilkins. Harry drew closer and tapped his foot impatiently.

“Okay, maybe I don’t have it on me, but—look, he’s an art dealer or something.” Frankie spoke frantically, as if sensing Harry’s impatience.

This was oddly familiar to Harry – though none of the Wilkinses he had met were in the business of art.

"Why do you care so much, anyways?" Frankie carried on. "It's a tiny, you can just-"

A police whistle cut Frankie off before he could finish, and Harry could only envy how quick the policemen were to protect the now empty bank. The second his eyes were drawn to the officers in the doorway Frankie took off like lightning, and Harry lunged after him in one final, desperate attempt to seize him, snatching him by the shoulder of his oversized coat. Frankie shed it like the skin of a snake and raced deeper into the banking hall with the police in hot pursuit, leaving Harry in the dust with coat in hand.

Harry searched through the rest of the pockets only to find them empty. He tossed the coat aside and then froze at the sight of one of the officers, who was headed in his direction and twirling a baton. His hand crept towards his face before he decided it would be of more use covering up the patch on his jacket's left elbow. He didn’t like the way this grey-haired officer was sneering at him, as though he were some vagabond from the Ward, and he especially didn’t like the way the other two officers in the doorway were pointing at him and talking amongst themselves. Perhaps they saw Harry as a criminal. Maybe even an accomplice, considering he had just been holding Frankie's coat.

He shrank back as the officer marched up to him with all the pomp and import a badge could afford someone. That was when a familiar voice spoke up from beside him.

“See? You’re a real hero.”

It was the old man in the green suit from before, who had picked himself up from the floor and was now dusting himself off.

“Don’t you think, officer?” He continued as the officer stopped in front of them. “He was ready to take a bullet for us back there. Sent that little punk running for his mother!”

Harry couldn’t tell if he was shaking from nerves or sheer embarrassment – maybe it was a combination of both. Nevertheless, he watched the stone-faced officer soften in real time. His baton, once readied, now fell to his side.

"Yes, it was an interesting day, most certainly, officer." Harry said, then locked eyes with the man in the green suit as if in defiance and refused to break eye contact.

What Harry was about to say next filled him with dread, but he felt it must be said, not for his own sake but for the sake of the man's poor nephew.

"...almost as interesting as the day the army discharged me for gas anxiety." Harry added.

The old man's eyes widened in shock, and with that the officer politely took Harry aside to hear his statement.

-

The next morning, Harry was very interested in bank robberies.

FLYING DUTCHMAN FRISKS FINANCIERS: BANK ROBBER STILL AT LARGE, read the headline.

Harry didn’t bother to read any further. He could tell from the headline alone that Frankie was still on the loose, and so far as Harry was concerned, whatever the newspaper had to say about his involvement was cursed information he had no business knowing. Although the rest of the bank had lauded him as a hero he had declined every offer for an interview and made it home with as little fuss as he could get away with.

Now it was back to business as usual, and he turned to the classifieds to look for more rooms to let. To his delight he found one posted by Evelyn Tucker of all people:

Seeking a quiet and responsible tenant for a ground floor unit who would not mind assisting an old lady around the house. Must be fond of miniatures, it read.

Susie certainly fit the bill, and so he went about cutting it out of the paper. When he pulled the ad away a familiar face stared back at him, and his skin prickled at the sight.

He turned the page and once again he was greeted with that obnoxious advertisement for the art gallery, though now something was different. The image of the nude tinies had been replaced by a portrait of a man with dark hair, dark eyes, and a fox-like face. Harry knew that face, and try as he might he could not forget that face.

For the first time, Harry swallowed his pride and willfully acknowledged the advertisement. When he read the blurb above the painting, the whole room went cold.

GRAND OPENING TO-DAY: WILKINS GALLERY OF FINE ART, the caption read, and below that, FEATURING CURIOSITIES THE LIKES OF WHICH YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN BEFORE!

He thought back to what Frankie had told him yesterday. No wonder the description had been familiar! He did know an art dealer by the name of Wilkins, not personally but subliminally, lurking in the back of his morning newspaper. The page scrunched as his hands tightened into fists.

Maybe Joe had been right there the entire time, speaking to him without speaking the way the author of On the Life and Death of the Miniature had done. Maybe the reason the painting of the burning building felt too real was because it was real. Who else could paint something so viscerally sincere besides Joe Piccoli? He thought back to the circus, the interview, the jars. Deep in his bones he knew that Joe could very well be one of the curiosities mentioned in the advertisement. That was how the sickening world Harry lived in worked, after all.

He grabbed his jacket and raced to the motorcycle.

Not once did he think to call the police.

Next part coming !

[smallbigworld]

Cursed Cravings: A retold, g/t story of Beauty and the Beast, with a sinister twist.

When he declines to help a beggar woman, wealthy aristocrat Christopher Penn was cursed to adopt a giant form with a terrible, monstrous burden, and the conditions to break the curse seem all but impossible. When a peasant girl, Danny, agrees to take her friend's place as Christopher's captive, he realizes that she may be the last hope of regaining his humanity and breaking the spell for good.

But who could ever care for a monster like him?

This will be an AU of ITWOM involving some familiar characters like Christopher, Danny, Sam, and Nathan - but you don't have to have read the main story to read this one. Lots of things will be changed around, so for all intents and purposes, these aren't the characters you know.

This story will contain g/t, angst, and soft/safe vore later down the road. It's still going to be a lighter read than ITWOM, but be warned nonetheless! This isn't the Beauty and the Beast story you know from Disney.

Read Chapter 1 below:

Chapter 1: Dark Night of the Soul

Contains: ~2k words | Chapter Index | Read this story on A03!

It was a night like many others, the night that Christopher Penn's life was changed forever.

A deluge had begun that evening, torrential rain bearing down upon the land with fierce strikes of lightning and thunder rattling the large windows of the mansion—but all this meant for Christopher and his guests was that they wouldn't be able to enjoy the garden out back, and their merriment was restricted to the large indoor space. The music still swelled and filled the air pleasantly, rising above the sounds of the storm outside and making it easy for the partygoers to forget how unpleasant it was outside the walls of Christopher's house.

The host in question flitted from person to person throughout the evening, engaging in the usual small talk and jokes, an easy and charming smile lighting up his face and those of the people he met with. He was a gracious and charismatic host, always making sure that his parties were the grandest, with his guests never wanting for anything. The people in attendance would speak highly of his events, of the balls and the dinner parties, that he was so keen to host. 

On the surface, Christopher seemed rather at ease, full of a charm and grace that would be befitting of someone from a wealthy family. But his actions were all surface level—each word and step he took was carefully choreographed and planned in advance. He was terrified, truly—each person he brought into his home was a potential ally, a potential for advancing his status, but they were also a potential seed to his own destruction.

Christopher had spent every day since his parents had passed rebuilding his family's reputation among the nobility. He could see past their charm—they despised his parents, and in turn, they despised him. His own reputation—the very thing that allowed him to live in such comforts still, to have any amount of power and social standing at all—was fragile and tenuous, and every interaction he had, no matter how seemingly insignificant it was, was an attempt to maintain its strength.

And so, while he seemed completely comfortable in this element, there was a latent anxiety in Christopher, hidden well beneath the surface. 

He almost didn’t hear the knock at the door at first, wrapped up as he was in conversation. But his manservant rushed to his side, rather insistently dragging him away.

“I’m sorry, Chris, she just won’t leave without speaking to you.” Sam’s stride was brisk, and they gave Christopher no choice but to follow. He offered a quick and profuse apology to the noblewoman he’d been entertaining before he caught up to Sam.

“You’re not able to send her away?” Christopher hissed, somewhat tersely. “I can’t be interrupted by every stranger that shows up here. I have guests to attend to.” 

“Hey, I tried!” Sam insisted. “I’m just one guy, and I also have guests of yours to attend to. She keeps coming back. All she wants is a quick word with you. Just humor her, and she’ll be out of your hair.” Sam ran their fingers somewhat anxiously through their own well-groomed locks. “We can just deal with it quietly, before she causes a scene. Some of the guests near the front door are getting a little antsy about it.” 

Christopher sighed wearily as he followed Sam to the main entrance. Perhaps if he had more staff, this wouldn’t be a problem. Most of the house’s staff had left in the fallout of his parents’ demise, with the sole exception being Sam—his personal servant who’d remained as doggedly loyal to him as they had the first day they’d been assigned to care for him. He’d never let on to his guests, but Christopher worked with Sam every day to keep the house in order, even helping cook the meals and clean. He had to keep up appearances as best he could. 

Sam pulled the grand front door open to reveal a woman on the other side—a pauper in beggar’s clothes, tattered and rain-soaked, hunched on his front stoop as she gazed up at Christopher. 

Christopher stood up straight and directed a cold, stern look towards the woman. He could feel several sets of eyes on him, and knew that there was a group of aristocrats watching the scene intently. He adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves idly as he spoke, as if he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the woman at all.

“I’m afraid you will have to leave. I have no room for beggars here.” 

The woman shivered slightly, tilting her head up further to meet Christopher’s face. Her eyes were wide and glassy, her face lined with creases from age and stress. “P-please, kind sir, I only need to come in from the storm for a short while. I won’t be any trouble. I…I haven’t eaten in days-”

The people nearby began to whisper, a touch of disgust coloring their tone. 

“This is an exclusive event,” Christopher interjected firmly. “There is a certain decorum that must be maintained. Please leave, or I will contact the authorities to escort you away.” 

If he had been at home alone that evening, he might have afforded some manner of small comfort towards the woman. But he couldn’t be seen sullying his hands with the poor here. 

A pleading, desperate look came to the woman’s face, her features falling into despair. “Sir, I will not survive the night!” Her voice was hoarse and rough, as if sandpaper scraped against the inside of her throat. “You would turn me away, to the mercy of the storm?”

Her cries had gotten louder—more of his guests had turned to look and whisper among themselves, casting uncertain and hesitant glances Christopher’s way. He didn’t need to hear them to know what they were all saying. 

What kind of place is this, where the host entertains beggars?

He is no better than his parents, mingling with such filth.

He doesn’t belong here.

He is not one of us.

He set his jaw and made his stance firm, his dark eyes fixed sharply down at the beggar. He couldn’t let this go on further. “Leave. Your welfare is not my concern.”

The woman’s face became suddenly sharper, each crease and wrinkle fading to a more youthful visage, and her muddy, round eyes transformed to piercing, golden ones. She no longer hunched, but stood straight up, rising to a height that forced even Christopher to look up in awestruck terror. 

“THEN YOU WILL HAVE BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS, CHRISTOPHER PENN.” 

Her tattered clothes transformed to flowing white robes upon her dark skin, her hair now falling in neat and lovely braids down her back, adorned with gold. 

She cast a scornful, acidic gaze towards Christopher as she looked down on him, each fiber of her being radiating with malice. 

His heart stopped beating—the entire world seemed to have gone silent, save for the strikes of thunder that almost seemed to accentuate every word this woman spoke. Her voice boomed with an unnatural volume throughout the entire hall. He didn’t need to turn around to know that every single person in attendance had heard.

He did his best to hide the quaking in his limbs. He couldn’t lose his composure, even now. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice escaping as nothing but a whisper.

The woman scowled at him, her expression one of pure poison. He could feel himself withering beneath it, despite all his efforts to keep calm. 

“You would not remember me, for the faces you entertain here are simply passing flights of fancy to you. I was your guest, Penn. And I saw past your charm. You use people for your own gain, grasping onto what little power you have like a pathetic child, desperate to rise above your place in the world.” 

She pointed an accusing finger towards him. “You have a vile, black heart, so cruel that you would send a woman away to her death when she asks for but a little kindness.”

“Hey!” Sam spoke up, a little timidly beside Christopher. “You can’t talk about him like-”

“SILENCE.” A loud strike of thunder shook the entire house, rattling the foundation and carrying the woman’s voice to the ears of every patron once again. A blistering wind tore through the open door, making the curtains tremble in its wake. 

Christopher thought that something seemed familiar about the woman—he felt as though he could recall a conversation with her, and she surely must have been at one of his parties. He searched for a name desperately, frantically wracking his brain for this woman’s identity.

“...Sybil?” he croaked, every ounce of confidence having long since left his body. His knees began to tremble, and he worried that they would soon give out completely. “Y-you may come in, I am so very sorry to have offended-”

“You have already failed, Penn. Now you repent, for you see my true form, and the power I wield.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Your fate has already been sealed.”

The world was swallowed in darkness within only the span of a moment, and the screams of Christopher’s guests and Sam became drowned out by an all-encompassing blackness that surrounded him, choking the air from his lungs, squeezing his ribcage until he thought he would burst from the pressure. He could not speak, he could not move, he could not see. If not for the excruciating pain shooting through every fiber of his being, he would have thought he was dead.

“You will no longer hide behind your tawdry facade. A monster within, so a monster you shall become.” 

Sybil’s voice came from all around him, like a harsh winter wind that froze the blood in his veins as it passed over him. Her words had weight to them, laden with something powerful, and far beyond this world’s understanding. 

His body was changing, but in what manner, he had no way to tell. All he could feel was pain—pain and a clawing hunger, like an animal inside of his stomach ripping and tearing at the flesh within, desperate to break out. His head throbbed as sounds swirled in his mind, indistinguishable from each other as they rose into a crescendo of noise, and the silence turned to a deafening cacophony. Voices, screams, shouting, but no words he could make out. He thought that he could hear Sam, amidst all the chaos, but he couldn’t be sure.

And then, before the darkness of his vision cleared to reveal the full extent of the horror that awaited him, he was assaulted by the wave of a strong smell he couldn’t place, a scent that filled his lungs and made the desperate animal within his gut writhe and twist in agony. It was like the scent of the finest wine, the most tantalizing food in existence, in such a great amount that it was overwhelming—even though, in those few moments of blissful ignorance, he had no idea what it was that delighted his senses so, that made the pain almost forgotten, that made every bone of his ache with an almost feral hunger.

His eyes opened with frantic urgency, and the scene before him unfolded slowly into a horrifyingly clear depiction of the gruesome fate that had been thrust upon him. He could barely see the faces of the ones he’d invited here, but their frightened screams spoke loudly enough. No words came to his own mouth—he was frozen in horror, like an insect trapped in amber as the weight of what happened sunk in, pressing down upon him like a suffocating, terrible gravity.

Despite his transformation, Sybil’s words rang as clear in his head as they had before. 

“Ten years, Penn. Ten years to prove yourself, or this form will be your prison.”

* * * * * * * * * * 

Next Chapter ->

Thanks for reading! I hope to update this story semi-consistently, because boy do I have some things planned down the road. So stay tuned!

[smallbigworld]

Another short story for y’all, enjoy!

No one intended for this to happen.  Some people warned others of the dangers, some people even refused to support the cause.  Whatever the case may be, no one was prepared for another world.  The government had this whole fancy plan to save our dying civilization from itself.  We'd used up all the natural resources our planet had to offer, and nearly killed it in doing so.  For centuries people searched for a suitable planet elsewhere in the vastness of space, but most planets just aren't livable.  The few planets that are are too far away to escape to.  Humanity was trapped in a cage they'd been slowly building for generations.  However, this all changed with the discovery of a new technology: Inter-reality Travel.  Apparently the government had found the perfect new world not out in space, but rather in another parallel place.  An Earth exactly like our own, only bigger.  More land to provide for our bloated population, more resources to grow a new empire.  According to scientists and theorists, it was the perfect escape.

There's only one problem with our new world – the cause of all the heated debates over the government's actions.  There were already people living there.  According to documentaries and news articles, scientists had found human life when they'd scanned for the habitability of the new Earth.  The more military-minded and desperate thought to wipe them out completely, to conquer the land and build new nations like in the old days.  Pacifists and the elite thought it was best to sign some sort of treaty with the parallel humans, or appeal to them as refugees of a dying planet.  We tried the passive way first.  Multiple teams of explorers set out to form relations with the other Earth, but none of them ever came back.  No one knows why; all communications go dead when you cross over, so there's really no way to know what happened, or what's out there.  Time was wearing thin and people started to grow impatient.  Humankind had to abandon their dying planet before they perished along with it.

In the end, the idea of a peaceful solution was chalked up to wishful thinking.  Humanity waged war on a population of people we knew next to nothing about.  It was extremely stupid, but we didn't have much of a choice.  We either die fighting to get to a new world, die in our real one, or, hopefully, live in a parallel Earth taken from the other humans.  Nothing could really prepare us for what we found beyond the strange rift opening, though.  Giants.  Humans that stood at an average of 60 feet tall.  In hindsight, this shouldn't have been too much of a shock.  The parallel Earth had been massive, it only made sense that its flora and fauna were massive too.  The fight didn't last nearly as long as we'd hoped.  The giants had terrifying weapons – explosives large enough to permanently dissolve our atmosphere, bullets the size of your head in guns that were twice as long as you were tall.  

It all came down to the simple fact that the giants were willing to drag our entire world into ruin.  They didn't care what happened to us; we attacked them with plans for their mass extinction, after all.  Humanity, on the other hand, didn't have the same advantage.  We couldn't fight an all-out war.  We needed to keep the giant's world intact if we wanted to live in it, but the giants were happy to obliterate ours.  Once spies from the parallel world informed us that the giants would be throwing our world into nuclear extinction, people fled by the thousands.  Lucky portal spawns, those in places the giants hadn't settled, became camps, set up for those of us who managed to escape our dying Earth.  Over time these places became full fledged towns, though there were few of these, they were safehavens.  Others had hunkered down in small parks or undeveloped land, hoping that they wouldn't be stumbled upon by a stray giant.  However, many of us – most of us, were lost to the nuclear fallout brought by the giants.

Humankind had been a dying species for centuries, but we were used to being at the top of the food chain.  Here, we were nearly extinct.  Our numbers still declined rapidly as more and more camps were found and destroyed.  Thus is the world I live in.  A bleak existence to say the least.  My name's Hannah Davis.  Before the neuclear holocaust that we call 'The Escape', I was a soldier in our fight-or-die army.  I didn't want to be a soldier.  In fact, I wanted nothing to do with the parallel world, but the Draft said otherwise.  My squadron was in the middle of a battle when we got the news that our world was gone.  The sudden and severe loss of morale almost cost everyone's lives.  I barely escaped along with a few others I hardly knew.  We'd hid in the woods nearby for months, but winter was coming fast, and we were rapidly running out of supplies.  Slowly but surely, people began freezing and starving to death.  

I knew we weren't going to make it if we stayed there.  Some of us had heard talk of an actual town somewhere to the west over a half-dead radio, but no one had the courage or the strength to go there.  Me?  I have the courage, just not the strength.  Lack of food and extreme cold can kill a person quicker than you'd think.  Just because someone's alive doesn't mean they're actually living.  I tried to convince the others to lend me enough provisions to trek over to the town, as I was the youngest and most likely to make the trip.  However, they stubbornly refused to give up the little food they had.  I don't blame them, but I was still angry with them.  So angry, and so desperate, that I tried to make the journey anyway.  What I didn't realize was that there was a giant subdivision between our camp and the town.  After a day of traveling, and a terrifying run across a major roadway, I made camp at its edge.  Unfortunately, luck was not on my side.  I'd sprained my ankle tripping on the edge of the roadway as I ran across, and right before the sun set, it started to snow.  With worst coming to worst, I lay down and hoped that I might be peacefully put out of my misery in sleep.

~ POV Swap ~

The invasion caught everyone off guard.  It was like something out of a bad science fiction novel.  All over the world, crackling portals split the open air, linking our world to a strange new one.  Humanity held its breath in fear of what would come out of these horrifying tears in the world.  As it turns out, we had nothing and everything to fear.  Another race of people, apparently from a world similar to ours, came barreling through the openings, immediately declaring war on all of humanity.  The funny thing was, they were all incredibly small.  The average person stood at about a foot tall.  Apparently, their sudden attack had been a last ditch attempt to take our Earth for themselves.  Some people even speculate that they might not have even known how out-numbered and out-gunned they were until they'd crossed through.  Whatever the reason, they were fighting a losing battle.  With one swift atom bomb we'd effectively wiped their planet from existence.

I didn't think that was very fair, but they had been trying to take over our world.  After that calamity, Earth was never the same.  Governments the world over began making defenses from potential threats coming from other worlds.  From time to time, someone would claim they saw a wild parallel human, which most people dubbed 'the small survivors', or just 'survivors'.  I'd only ever seen dead ones before.  There was carnage all around after the brief and bloody war.  Just last week I'd seen one dead on the side of the road, presumably hit by a car.  It was strange to say the least.  They had another language entirely, which made it a bit easier to consider them animals like the government told us they were.  My name's Grady Solman.  For the most part, I don't really care what happens to the new breed of tiny humans. That was until I met a live one.

Winter was here, and it had just started to snow.  Dad asked me to take the dog out before the snow got too deep and she refused to go outside.  I remember it so clearly.  I'd been standing near the back door, waiting for Frizzie to do her thing.  The crisp air stung my skin with the bitter wind that swept through, blowing snowflakes every which way.  I kept my head down most of the time to keep from getting blasted in the face with below-freezing wind.  Looking up from my downcast gaze, I noticed Frizzie was digging at the edge of our yard.  "Hey!" I called out, rushing over to her, "Frizzie, don't dig in the yard!  You know Mom doesn't like that."  She dashed away, knowing she'd been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to, while I stopped dead in my tracks.

Frizzie had been digging at some weird thing that I'd definitely never seen in our yard before.  It almost looked like a small tent, but you couldn't even fit a little kid in there.  However, it would fit someone about a foot tall.  Sure enough, when I lifted the flap of the tent, a little survivor was lying curled up in a tight ball on the floor.  I sucked in a shocked breath of air.  Pulling my phone from my pocket, I turned on the flashlight with numb hands.  The survivor's skin was pale, and its body looked awfully thin.  I was so sure it was dead that I almost left it out there.  Thankfully, when I moved my phone over to turn off the flashlight, it glared into the survivor's eyes, causing it to groan in pain.  It's still alive!  Quickly, I tore off the top of the tent so I could see it.  The survivor looked wearily up at me and tried to run away, but it barely got up before it collapsed again.  

This time, it went limp as it hit the ground.  Pity swept through me as I watched the little creature; it looked so human-like it was almost eerie.  Carefully, I swept the survivor into my hands, and carried it back inside, calling Frizzie in as well.  Once I was in the warmth of my own home, I raced up to my room with the little creature.  I immediately reached for a blanket before remembering that you were only supposed to warm up someone who'd frozen bit by bit, letting their skin thaw as naturally as possible.  As I stared down at the little survivor that I'd placed on my desk, I noticed a few things.  Firstly, it wasn't an it, but rather a she.  Her raven black hair was cut at the shoulders, and she wore military-style clothing.  She looked a bit young to be in the army, or whatever the survivors had.  Had she fought against us in the war, or did she steal these clothes off someone else?  She was also extremely thin.  I'd lifted the bottom of her shirt just slightly to see if she was injured, and noticed her ribcage practically sticking through her skin.  I also noticed that she was a bit warmer, so I gently wrapped her in a blanket which I held between my hands to try and warm her up.  

Finally warm enough to function, it wasn't long before the survivor came back to life.  Her tiny limbs twitched as though she were dreaming, then she tiredly opened her eyes.  She slowly sat up, taking in her surroundings, but the moment her gaze settled on me, she shot into motion.  Scrambling backwards out of the blankets I’d placed her in, the survivor raced to the far end of my desk in a panic, eyes wide in fear.  "Hey, it's ok," I said gently, trying to calm her down, "You don't have to be scared."  "T'nod hcuot em!"  It was the first time I'd heard their language before.  I was momentarily shocked.  She looked so human that I half expected her to speak perfect english.  "Tahw od uoy tnaw htiw em?" she cried, pressing herself to the wall behind my desk.  Her voice ended in an uptone that usually indicated a question.  My guess was that she wanted to know what happened.  "I found your tent at the edge of my yard," I explained, "You were freezing to death out there, so I brought you in here."

My words were met with a confused stare.  Just as I didn't understand her language, she didn't understand mine.  The survivor shuddered and rubbed her hands over her arms, trying to warm up after abandoning the blanket.  I tried to offer it to her, but the moment I moved closer she yelped like I'd hurt her and cowered behind her arms.  "Alright, it's ok.  I'll back off if you want."  Keeping my voice as calm as I could, and my movements as slow as possible, I stepped away from my desk and sat on my bedside a bit further away.  Before I backed off, I nudged the blanket closer to her so she'd know I wanted her to take it.  Cautiously, the survivor stepped forward and pointed at the blanket.  "Era uoy.. gnivig siht ot em?"  I had no clue what she said, other than the fact that it was another question.  However, I had a guess that she was asking if she could have the blanket I'd left for her.  I nodded and watched as her eyes went wide.  "Uoy deddon.." she responded hesitantly, pointing to the blanket, then to herself, then nodding.

"Yes," I told her, "The blanket's yours."  It was only after she picked it up and dragged it back to her spot by the wall that I noticed her limp.  I gasped, "You're hurt!"  Immediately, she yelped and dropped the blanket, backing away from it.  She'd taken my exclamation as a cry of anger.  I could only guess that she assumed she'd misunderstood what I'd said.  "No, no.  I.. you can have that.  I was just upset about your leg," I explained, pointing at her swollen ankle.  The survivor looked down at her injury, then back at me.  Slowly, she reached for her blanket, and I made no move to stop her.  With a huff, she sat down on it and pulled another part of it over herself, all without taking her eyes off me.  We stared at each other for a while, both of us hesitantly curious of the other.  Eventually, I remembered the more urgent things I needed to take care of.  The survivor's ankle needed ice to keep the swelling down, and she also desperately needed food by the looks of her.

I stood carefully, holding up my hands to show her I meant no harm.  Hopefully her kind even understands that gesture.  She seemed to, though.  She'd sat straight up, but hadn't raced away in fear or cowered behind anything.  "I'm just going to get some things for you.  I'll be right back."  I knew she couldn't understand, but I felt the need to explain myself regardless.  Inching out the door, I let it fall closed behind me and dashed off to the kitchen.  Gathering up a few items like bread, water, and some ice cubes should've been an easy task, but Mom was in the kitchen, and I couldn't get bread, or especially a random ice cube, without her asking me why I needed it.  I could always lie, but I waited for her to leave instead.  A few minutes later, she walked off and I grabbed what I needed.  Back in my room, I made sure to lock the door before anything else.  Either of my parents would make me throw the little survivor back outside if they saw her.

When I turned to my desk, I was greeted by an empty blanket.  "What the..?  Little survivor?  Where'd you go?"  Of course she ran away, I realized after searching the desktop.  She was terrified of me.  Once I left, she had the perfect opportunity to make a run for it.  However, she couldn't have gotten very far.  The door to my room was closed the whole time, and at her height, there was no way for her to open it.  I rummaged through everything I thought she could get into.  My bookshelf, my drawers, my old toy bin.  Finally, I began frantically pulling things out of my awfully messy closet.  I'd just yanked out an old pair of jeans that had fallen to the bottom when I found the survivor.  After grabbing another pair of shorts to cast them aside, I felt something writhe beneath them and let go with a gasp.  She had been cowering in a tight ball underneath them, but now scrambled out and away, slipping through the opening between myself and the closet door.  I watched with slight remorse as she looked wildly around my room for another place to hide before dashing underneath my bed.

Sighing in relief, I brought over the plate of tiny pieces of food and poured out some water into a small shot glass I'd taken for her to drink out of.  "Little survivor?" I called, peering beneath my bed.  She was shaking all over, this time from fear rather than the cold, and her eyes glistened with tears.  I really wish I hadn't frightened her.  I'd just begun trying to get her to trust me with the whole blanket thing.  Now we were back to square one, or maybe even further.  "Poor little thing," I whispered, scooting backwards to give her some space.  "I didn't mean to grab you, I promise."  Again I held my hands up in a harmless gesture.  Her tears slowly dried as she peered out at me from underneath my bed.  "I brought you some things you might want," I offered, gesturing to the plate, "There's also a little bag of crushed ice here for your leg."  She remained fully beneath her hiding spot, but inched closer as though she wanted to take it.  "I tnaw siht," she said shakily, "Uoy wonk I tnaw siht, dna I wonk er'uoy gnivig ti ot em.  Si siht a part?"  

A few sentences followed by yet another question.  The best I could do was try and guess what she'd said and asked.  "If you're wondering whether these are for you, they are.  Look, I'll even put them under here so you can get to them without coming out."  As slowly as I could, I slid the paper plate I'd put everything on underneath the bed beside the survivor.  At first she'd backed away, but as I left the plate sitting there, she edged closer.  I couldn't help but smile as she hesitantly reached out and took a piece of bread off the plate.  She scarfed it down and immediately went back for another helping.  For a brief moment she seemed to forget that I was here entirely, and feverishly ate and drank until she was full.  Once she finished, she peered over at me again.  "S'tahw siht eci rof?  Ho, tiaw.  S'ti rof ym gel, t'nsi ti?  S'taht.. ecin fo uoy I sseug."  A guy could only dream of understanding that.  "Yllautca," she continued, "lla fo siht sah neeb ecin.  I naem, uoy did barg em, tub I kniht taht saw na tnedicca.  Osla, m'I ylriaf erus uoy devas ym efil thginot, yb gnitteg em tuo fo taht mrotswons.  A wef erom setunim dna ti ev'thgim neeb oot etal rof enoyna ot evas em, hcum ssel a tnaig ekil uoy."

Content to listen to her unintelligible ramblings, I sat back and waited for her to continue.  I had to admit, for a being whose kind had waged war on mine, she was awfully cute.  If I could understand her, I imagine she was going on about her life and how she got to be in the deadly predicament I'd found her in.  "Uoy ees, ereht erew sromur fo stnaig gnitaert su ylecin.  D'i demussa, ekil tsom elpoep did, taht yeht erew llat sliat ro spart tes yb ruoy dnik.  Won m'I ton os erus…  Ebyam yeht erew eurt.  Ro ebyam siht si a part.  I t'nod kniht ti si, hguoht."  To my suprise, the survivor cautiously stepped out from beneath my bed.  There was a quiet moment where we looked each other over, similar to the one we shared while she sat on my desk.  

Everything about her was unreal.  Even standing at her full height, she barely came up to my chest, and I was kneeling down.  "Tnaig, nac I tsurt uoy?"  A question, obviously aimed at me.  It sounded important, but she could've said anything from 'can I have more bread' to 'why did you, my people's sworn enemy, save my life'.  She recognized the confused look I gave her and backed down a ways, likely realizing I hadn't understood a word of what she just told me.  "Thgir, uoy t'nac dnatsrednu em," the survivor muttered, "Woh tuoba ew trats htiw gnihtemos reisae, neht?"  Looking up at me, she pointed a finger at herself.  "Ym s'eman Hannah Sivad.  Hannah.  S'taht em.  Dnatsrednu?"  Was that her name?  Hannah?  "You're name's.. Hannah?" I asked questioningly, pointing my own finger at her, though not too close.  She perked up and nodded fervently, which was slightly shocking.  Nodding is the universal sign for yes; I just didn't think that would cross over to other parallel universes too.  Then again, she also understood the gesture that ment I wouldn't hurt her.

"So, you're Hannah?"  She nodded again then pointed at me.  "Sey, ym s'eman Hannah.  Dna uoy era..?"  For once I could easily tell what her question was.  "I'm Grady," I answered, pleased that I could somewhat communicate with her.  "Grady?"  My heart did a leap of excitement when I heard her say my name.  "Yeah, that's it!" I nodded my head happily.  This little understanding is nice, but how can I get her to understand the rest of what I say?  I thought through some ideas as I looked around my room for anything useful, while Hannah sat down to ice her swollen ankle.  Glancing at my desk, I suddenly had an idea.  "Wait right here," I said, gesturing for Hannah to stay put.  She tensed as I stood up, but stayed where she was.  I dug through some papers until I found a blank one, grabbing a mechanical pencil and a clipboard from my desk as well.  Soon, I'd returned to my seat on the floor and fastened the paper in place on the clipboard.  "Even if we write down our languages, they'll probably be too different to understand, but we can draw things to help each other understand what we mean," I explained.

Hannah looked at me curiously and inched a bit closer to see the paper.  "Here, I'll show you."  What did I even want to tell her?  Firstly, I should probably make it clear I'm not going to hurt her, I thought, remembering when she'd hidden from me.  After thinking for a moment, I drew a little stick figure with a broken arm, and looked over at Hannah to make sure she'd seen it.  Once I knew she had, I drew a big X over it and pointed to myself as I shook my head.  "I am not going to do this to you," I said, gesturing to myself and the drawing again.  She glanced confusedly between me and the drawing for a moment, before her eyes slowly widened in understanding.  "Uoy.. Er'uoy ton gniog ot truh em?" she guessed, making all the same gestures I had.  I couldn't tell if her guess was right, but I hoped it was.  "I'm not going to hurt you, alright?" I said again, a bit softer.  "I know I scare you, but I won't hurt you."  Hannah nodded, seemingly understanding what I was saying.  The drawings worked after all.

The next big question I had for her was how she ended up in a tent in my yard.  I'd never seen any signs of survivors out there before.  Were there more of them hiding somewhere, freezing and starving to death like she was?  "Here, let me ask you something."  I began with a crude sketch of Hannah's tent outside, and added little snowflakes around it to try and make the triangle shape I drew look a bit more like the tent.  Then, I drew a little question mark beside it and pointed first up at her, then down at the tent.  Finally, I added an arrow coming from some sketchy trees behind the tent with another question mark beside them.  "Do you understand?" I asked her, "How did you get here?  Where did you come from?"  Hannah stared at my drawings for a long time, then stood up decisively, shaking her head.  "Grady, nac I tsurt uoy ro ton?  Yhw era uoy gniksa erehw I emac morf?  Era uoy gnikcirt em otni gnillet uoy erehw ym pmac si os uoy nac erutpac erom fo su?"  I was stunned by the sudden tone of hostility in her voice.  

"Why are you yelling at me?" I asked confusedly, "I just want to help."  Hannah pointed to the pencil in my hand, then at herself.  She wanted to take a turn drawing so I could understand her.  I put the pencil down and she snatched it right back up, gripping it between both hands.  Holding it up diagonally, Hannah managed to put the pencil tip down to the paper, but she couldn't keep it steady enough to draw anything recognizable.  It was just too big for her to use.  "Wait, let me see it," I said, holding out my hand for the pencil.  Shocked at my hand being so close, Hannah backed away looking almost frightened before she realized what I wanted.  She slowly stepped up to me and placed the pencil in my outstretched hand.  Taking out a piece of lead, I snapped a bit off the top and handed it back to her.  "There, now you can write with something your own size."  Hannah cautiously took the lead from me and started drawing.  

And I thought my drawings were bad.  I honestly had no clue what she'd drawn for me.  When I gave her a confused look instead of an understanding one, she grumbled frustratedly and tried again.  Still, I couldn't make out what she drew.  In frustration, Hannah drew an arrow pointing to some lines and added the caption 'egac' to it.  This was pointless considering I couldn't understand her language.  She seemed to realize this immediately afterwards and started to scratch it out when something clicked in my mind.  "Wait!" I called, reaching out to stop her.  Hannah drew back with a yelp, and I quickly apologized.  It wasn't the drawing that clicked, but rather the word and drawing combined.  The lines she drew over her picture were supposed to be a cage.  She'd labeled it 'egac', but from my upside-down view, it looked like the English word 'cage'.  I sat shocked for so long that Hannah had to snap me out of it.  "Did uoy erugif ti tuo?"  I blinked.  "Write something else," I told her.  She didn't understand, so I drew more arrows to other parts of her drawing and made blanks above them.  "Fill in the rest.  I- I think I might've just cracked your parallel universe language."  

Hannah still seemed confused, but she filled in the blanks and everything clicked.  Backwards words like 'tnet' and 'egarots' appeared on the paper.  "That's it!" I cried, "Your language is backwards!"  Yet, 'Hannah' was still normal.. Are their names not reversed?  I quickly wrote it down and realized why.  Hannah spelled backwards is still Hannah.  Now she was thoroughly perplexed.  "Tahw era uoy gniod?" she asked me, pointing to the paper.  Instead of answering, I wrote a message and quickly reversed the letters.  'your language backwards is my language' became ''ruoy egaugnal sdrawkcab si ym egaugnal'.  Hannah gasped when she saw my translation.  "Uoy.. Siht t'nsi elbissop.." she whispered, looking it over.  "Os tahw fi I.."  Writing her own message in her language, she reversed the letters and waited for my reaction.  The gibberish of 'nac uoy daer siht' became 'can you read this' before my eyes.  "I can!" I exclaimed, nodding happily.  "I can read it!  I can understand you!"

We each celebrated our victory.  Hannah started bouncing on her toes in excitement before painfully remembering her swollen ankle.  She sank back to the floor and threw some ice over it.  'Are you alright?' I asked over the paper.  Hannah nodded, and reached out to respond before realizing she sat a bit too far away to reach.  I scooted both myself and the paper closer.  She gave me a wary look, but didn't back off.  'You did say you wouldn't hurt me, right?' she asked.  Her handwriting was a bit wobbly; she was shaking as she wrote.  I nodded, 'I promise I won't hurt you.'  Letting out a large sigh of relief, Hannah lay down on the floor, exhausted.  A moment later, she shot back up and started urgently writing something down.  'What I was trying to tell you,' she explained, 'is that I wasn't sure if I could trust you.  You wanted to know where my camp was; I thought you were tricking me into telling you by befriending me.  Then you would go out and capture the rest of us.'  Thankfully I'd figured this writing thing out.  I never would've guessed that otherwise.  

'I wasn't asking that because I wanted to capture your people,' I wrote earnestly, 'I wanted to know if there were more of you out there starving and freezing to death.  I thought I could send you back with a bunch of supplies to keep everyone alive.'  Hannah looked up at me in shock.  'You're going to let me go?' she wrote.  'Of course I am,' I replied immediately, 'I'm not holding you captive here.  I only brought you in to keep you from freezing to death.  Besides,' I added, 'there must be people there who are missing you.  I wouldn't tear you away from your own kind like that.'  Hannah sat staring at the paper for a while, eyes starting to water.  'Don't worry,' she wrote in a shaky scrawl, 'there's no one left who will miss me.'

This was one of my favorite shorts I did for writing prompts last year.  I had to code a whole translator to make Hannah’s text easier to type out, but I was very happy with how it looked in the end.

[smallbigworld]

New family 1/?

Next part:

! Warning !

swearing, angst, fear, step-family, g/t family, abuse, mention of abusive giants, gigantophobia, mention of the character being religious, sickness

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I was fucked.

I'm sorry for using that kinda language but I really was. You see, my whole life has been destroyed by thoese damn giants.

Sorry, I don't think I introduced myself yet, I'm Zack.

Me and my mom were always a team. After my dad has passed away when i was 6 she was the only person important to me. It was basically us two against the whole world.

Something that might also be important for you to understand my story is the fact that we live in a world full of humans (like my and my mom) and giants. Giants are.. humanoid 60-ish feet tall creatures. Easily to say - their dangerous. The government rightfully understood the danger and the fear of us humans and created 'human-only' zones, cities, countries even. There were also a few 'giant-only' zones, but I'm not really sure why. It's not like the giants would fear us. Most of the places thoese enourmous beasts live are simply 'mixed-zones', places where both humans and giants can live. Thank God that me and my mom always lived in a 'human-only' zone. I was always skeptical and yeah, terrified of giants.

My mom was different though. Maybe she was just dumb (sorry for saying that mama) but she just couldn't sense danger. She worked in a company that required her to sometimes travel to 'mixed-zones' or 'mixed-cities'. I was always opposed to that but she.. enjoyed it. She even said that she made some giant "friends". I never believed in their honesty though.

But what changed my life once and for all, had happened when I was just 16. Well, going on 17 already, but yeah, still 16.

I never ever once questioned my mom's romantic life after my dad has passed away. She just.. never acted like she wanted to start a new relationship. And I was very okay with that.

But one unfortunate day, just after she came home from one of her business trips she told me that she has got a boyfriend.

That was weried to know, I mean c'mon, picturing your mom having a crush, dating, falling in love etc. is just.. weried and kinda disgusting if you ask me.

Of course, I questioned her and soon I reaveled her secret.

"Zack, I have been dating him for a little over a year. I was just scared of how you might react. But now, I must tell you since.. he proposed."

That felt like I was stabbed straight into the heart. How could she have kept having a boyfriend a secret from me for so long? Why would she? Being lied to by her felt horrible. I thought we were a team - we always told echother everything. But I guess I was wrong.

Really soon I found out that my mom's boyfriends (and now fiances) name is Andrew, that he was just slightly older than her and had two sons about my age, he was also a widower, and according to my mom, we had much in common.

I really couldn't understand why my mom would keep her boyfriend a secret. Untill she revealed she wanted for us to move in with him and his sons. I mean, she had a lot of planing to do, as she was soon to get married again, so that was kinda understandable. I wasn't opposed to moving into a new home, but changed my mind really quickly when my mom reaveled that our new home would be in a mixed-city. I mean, I was never even in that kind of a city, never even seen a giant in real life and was hella terrified of them! She should've understood me. Before she 'fell in love' she always has.

I asked her a milion times if Andrew and his sons can't just move in with us but she always found some excuse. Once, our house was too small, then his older son didn't want to switch universities, another time Andrew was scared of loosing the job. It was always a stupid excuse. Untill she finally reaveled the truth.

You see, Andrew, my mom's husband-to-be was a giant. And so were his sons.

To say that I was mad and scared was an understatement. I felt lied to. I felt like I was being dragged into something I didn't want to be a part of. I, understandably, questioned the honesty of my moms relationship, which angered her the most. I was angry with my mom for over two weeks after finding out about the size of my soon to be step-family and barely spoke with her. I couldn't be away from her for long though and forgave her, but in my heart I still had plenty of doubts.

My friends didn't help ease my fear. I told my best buddies at school and the stories they have told me only made me more afraid and suspicious of the said Andrew and all giants at that point.

"Don't y'all remember Joseph from middle school? He moved to a mixed-city with his parents. He was stepped on by a giant and died!"

"That's nothing compered to what happened to Amy. A quick death is better than being tortured. She is my cousin. She moved to a mixed-zone because she wanted to go to a better collage. One of her giant male classmates kidnaped her and done horrifying things to her. Once she was found she had missing limbs, many scars.. She was mentally, physically and sexually abused by him for months, untill they found the giant. And he barely got any jail time for that! She's still in mental health hospital!"

"My dads best friend Thomas was freaking eaten alive!"

Yeah, I think 3 stories is enough to give you the idea of how freaking terrified I was of the said 'step-family'. Some might say I am a specist (a person that discriminates based on the species (giant and human)) but I wouldn't agree. I don't really think that a human can be a specist becouse we are in the more vaunurable position. Also, I don't hate giants becouse of their size. I hate and fear them because of how brutal and cruel they are towards humans. Maybe a giantophobe would be a more appropriate term for me.

That day was the worst day in my entire life. And it's really hard to beat the day my dad had passed away.

We sold the house. We were at the airport. All ready to go to a mixed-city, over the wall that the government made.

Mom was all smiley and happy, her nose never leaving her phone.

"Andrew texted me that he and his boys are at their side of the barrier already, waiting for us. They can't wait to meet you!"

Right, didn't I mention that they all knew echother, but me?

"I just can't wait to show you the city and our new home!"

I was standing there quiet. No matter how many times I told my mom that i don't agree with her choice of dating a giant or for the fact that I didn't want to move away into a mixed-city she would always say that I will change my mind once I overcome my fear. Hell, I would.

I held my bag closely, trying to hold onto whatever I have not to lose my composure. I was terrified and angry, sure, but showing thoese giants from the start that they have some power over me, even though it was obvious, wasn't something I would do. At last, if I could hide my emotions.

Just a few minutes before our flight, a flight in the opposite direction landed. I saw all those humans, coming back from the mixed-city, most of them seem okay. That made me confused and curious. Would it really be all that bad?

Untill I saw a girl, probably my age, on a wheelchair. I mean, there is nothing wrong with disabled people, don't get me wrong, but she was crying so she easily got everyone's attention. A woman run up to her.

"Mom!" The girl sobbed, opening her arms to hug her mother. The woman tried calming the girl down but she just kept crying and screaming "It was just supposed to be a student exchange program!! This scary giant crushed my legs!"

The girls voice echoed in my head. It was different to hear stories of distant people, but to see someone hurt by thoese monsters in front of my own eyes was completely different.

Even my mom lowered her phone and looked at the girl with pity in her eyes. I prayed to the Lord to open her eyes and return home safely with me.

"Poor girl" she signed "That must have been a.. horrible accident".

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Accident?" I looked at my mom angrily, finally letting my emotions out "A giant crushed her legs".

"Honey, I'm sure they didn't mean to.." she looked at me, somewhat shocked at my defensiveness. I shouldn't have expected her to understand. She just simply couldn't sense danger. And that could get both of us killed.

"Her legs were crushed by a giant, mom!" I raised my voice, even so slightly as I couldn't believe how blinded she was by her feelings.

"Zack, calm yourself down" she looked at me more strictly now, as I was getting other peoples attention. I couldn't bare the thought of how stupid this all was. I just wanted to be home. Or anywhere at that point. Anywhere but in a spece where giants were allowed.

"You-" I began to speak.

"The flight 16-399Bhc** is preparing to take off. We ask all the passengers to board the plane within 5 minutes. Thank you and have a good flight" said a voice from the speaker.

"That's our flight!" My mom cheered up and grabbed my arm, pulling me as she ran to the plane.

She was so excited it made me feel like I was gonna puke.

Don't get me wrong, I always loved planes but this time I felt uneasy. My whole body was shaking ever so slightly, I felt like I was about to puke, I swear I heard my heart pumping blood, my head was spinning..

That can easily be called my worst ever flight.

After we landed I needed a good 15 minutes in the bathroom to regain my composure.

"Honey, are you alright?" I heard my mom knocking "Are you sick?"

"I'm fine mama, I'll be okay" I mumbled, though I didn't feel like I was going to be okay for at last next few hours. I was also convinced my life was about to end so why bother worrying my mom. But before I cross the barrier of the airport, I didn't have to see or interact with any giants. Maybe me feeling sick was actually a gift from God to give me more time to get ready for what was about to come? As I was almost ready to go I hear my mom speaking:

"Honey, are you sure? I texted Andrew and he and Ethan are worried sick. They can drive us to a hospital"

And then I got sick again at the mention of the giants.

Oh, you might not know who is who. Andrew is my moms 45 year old husband-to-be, but I'm sure I have spoke about him already. Ethan is his older son, he was 21 back then. His younger son - Ryan - was 17.

After, what appeared to me as a minute and to my mom as an hour I finally could exit the bathroom.

My mom rushed me, saying that the boys have been waiting for us long enough. I was feeling less and less okay. I couldn't keep my emotionless demeanor. My eyes felt heavy, my heartbeat fasten as well as my breathing, my legs were shaky and I was not able to say even one word.

As I saw the enourmous glass wall behind which were a ton of giants, I felt like I was going to faint.

Or simply turn around and run.

My mom stopped in her trucks and looked at her phone. After maybe three seconds of reading what I supposed was a message form Andrew she looked into the direction of 3 giant men waiting and her eyes started to freaking sparkle and her smile grew.

She then looked at me and pointed in the direction of thoese giants, who weren't looking at us, thank God.

"That's Andrew! And Ethan and Ryan!" She said with an excited expression.

Andrew was surprisingly the shortest of the group. He had brown hair that were turning grey, a short beard, thick glasses, a blue sweater and more elegant pants. He was overall a handsome middle-aged dude, if it wasn't for the fact he was freaking enormous.

Ethan was talking with him. He had fluffy brown hair and was slightly taller than his dad. He had a few freckles and dimples on his cheeks, his smile was truthfully welcoming. His white hoodie also looked very comfy.

The tallest one was the youngest - Ryan. He had black, short hair, a pierced ear and stylist clothes. If he would have been a human, he looked like one of the popular kids that you always look up to. I really liked the belt he had, same with the rings on his fingers.

All three giants had the same eye color - hazel.

My mom grabbed me again and pulled me into the direction of the glass wall that was the last thing keeping me outside of the reach of giants. She looked so happy to see them that it was hard to recognize her. She only ever smiled at me like that before.

Soon enough, we were close to the exit of my comfort zone. My fear only grew as we were closer to the giants. It was still probably about 20 feet between us and the door when Andrews eyes rested on us. I felt the enourmous gaze and felt like I was stung. Soon both his sons eyes locked on me and my mom. She realized quickly and slowed down with the running. She then waved at them. Andrew and Ethan waved back. Ryan stood there, looking maybe a little conflicted but surely also kinda annoyed.

At that point I could feel the blood boiling in my veins. My heart ached. As well did my head. My legs were shaky. I felt like I couldn't catch my breath correctly.

If you think you're not socially awkward, three giants looking down at you with their enourmous eyes, almost scanning you as if you were an insect would change your mind right away. And if you are socially awkward like me? Well, you would feel as if you were just about to die.

My mom rushed me again, ready to exit the safe space, that only allowed humans. I walked behind her, but I wasn't as excited or as fast. Partly, becouse I wanted to be out of the giants reach for as long as I could and partly becouse I was feeling worse and worse.

To be honest, I don't know what was making me feel bad. Maybe it was all the emotion, fear, anger and all, maybe it was my mental health killing me and shouting at me that danger was close, maybe it was the horrible flight, maybe it was my body being sick. I don't know.

What I do know is, each step I took, the more powerless I felt. My legs felt to weak to hold my bodyweight.

My mom was already by the exit door when she turned around to rush me again. I was maybe 7 feet behind her, still surrounded by the enourmous gazes of those three giants, two of which were smiling. Their smiles made me sick in my stomache, but Ryan who was the only one not smiling made me feel ever worse somehow.

I totally expected my mom to yell at me to hurry up, based on how excited she seem but she just stared at me for a secound with wide worried eyes and then returned to me.

"Are you okay honey? You don't seem too good"

I wanted to answer her but it came out as a soft yelp. I thought I was going to puke again.

Faces of the giants became more serious and worried. I didn't like that expression either, to be honest.

I looked back at mom as she reached out to me and raised her hand to my shoulder for comfort probably.

"Are you scared Zack? Is that it? Because if it is, I assure you, they won't hurt us. Ever." She spoke in a soft, quiet voice. Her expression didn't show anger but she looked more understanding than any other moment of the past few weeks. She spoke with such confidence I could have believed her.

Well, I maybe even would have if I didn't faint.

Because just a moment after she spoke my vision went black and my body felt weak. The last think I remember before fainting were thoese scary gazes and my mom yelling:

"Zack!"

------------------------------

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed the 1st part!

[smallbigworld]

G/t Literature Megathread!

Hi! I've been a lurker in the G/t community here on Tumblr since around 2011-ish? I'm addicted to G/t literature, and I hoard it like crazy. I wanted to share this for anyone looking for something to read, or if they're new to the community. Feel free to reblog with any recommendations, or even to just promote your own stuff, because I'd love to read more!

Unstuck Together (@sizebrained)

A cute romance story between two pairs of human/borrower siblings! Lots of great fluff in this. I made sure to put it at the top because it doesn't get nearly as much attention as it should.

A Fraction of Justice (@ratcatcher0325)

Smal wannabe lawyer is (understandably) very angry at the world that treats him like an animal. Lots of amazing hurt/comfort in this, and the relationship between Alexander and Natalie is really sweet! Probably one of my favorite G/t stories out there!

The Walls Won't be There Forever / Cold Weather (@clumsiestgiantess)

I just linked to clumsiest's writing masterpost here, since I love most of their work! "The Walls Won't be There Forever" and "Cold Weather" are definitely some of my favs tho, since I probably have a preference for G/t angst lol.

Online Dating Can Be Hard (@duckit7)

I love Cam and Kate! There's roughly equal amounts of fluff and angst in this story, and I eat it up. Really like the worldbuilding too; it's a modern setting where smallfolk (Parvuses) are supposed to be treated equally to humans, but has a lot of the roadblocks you would expect. I feel like not enough stories use this kind of setting, which is a shame because it's prime for angst! As a heads up, this story is split up across Duckit's Tumblr and AO3; both of which are included in the link above!

One Shot (@narrans)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39455319

An amazing collection of G/t stories by Narrans! A lot of these stories contain some good angst, and Narrans is a great writer! I'd also recommend checking out their other series as well, such as A Tall and Small Collection. They also provide audiobook style readings of their works on their youtube channel (linked above), which has been very helpful for me when I'm at work or on walks!

[smallbigworld]

Isabell and the Lads (8)

Word count: ~1.6k

Masterpost

First Part | Last Part | Next Part

---

“Quick tour on the way!” Marcus says to her. He holds her in one hand, tucked close to his chest. Unlike Zeke, he doesn’t curl his second hand around her. He instead uses it to gesture as he talks. She sits in the center of his palm, her hands bracing her on either side as he bounds excitedly across the apartment. Isabell’s heart is still pounding from him suddenly reaching out and grabbing her. After realizing that he’s not doing anything else with her, aside from holding her, she takes a moment to remind herself to breathe.

She’s already semi-familiar with the apartment, as she’s borrowed from it before, but she doesn’t tell him that. She isn’t convinced that he would even listen if she tried. He points out the rooms as they pass by them. The kitchen is obviously connected to the living room. Down the hall there’s Marcus’s room, it’s cluttered and unorganized, she had attempted to use as a hiding spot moments ago. Across the hall there’s the office. Half of the room is occupied by a desk. It's less of a desk and more of an explosion of papers, notebooks, and writing utensils. A laptop crowns the pile, sitting crookedly amidst the papers. Occupying the other half of the office, there is another desk with a sewing machine sitting on it. Shelves line the wall on this side of the room with neatly organized fabrics. There are bins and other organizers, it appears as though nothing is out of place. Moving on with the tour, there’s a small bathroom, and finally Zeke’s bedroom. The door is closed, Marcus points it out, but leaves it be.

He walks her back to his room, ignoring the clutter on the floor and heading straight for the bed. He shifts some pillows around, clearing a spot for her before setting her down. Unlike Zeke, Marcus doesn’t wait for her to leave his hand herself, instead he just deposits her on the plush mattress. She topples over awkwardly on the soft surface, before righting herself and quickly looking up at him towering over her. He's typing into his phone, paying her no mind at all. He hasn’t even attempted to explain whatever plan he might have, but he’s grinning from ear to ear, so he’s obviously excited about it.

“Just wait, this is going to be awesome," Marcus grins, setting the device down before her, propping it up somehow. The screen reads 'connecting', then it goes dark. In a flash, Zeke appears on the screen. Marcus adjusts the phone until Isabell is in frame on the video in the corner of the screen. Once he’s satisfied. he dashes out of the room. Marcus appears on the phone, next to Zeke. “Ta-da!” He says, spreading his arms out wide, causing Zeke to lean away from him. “We’re small, right?” Marcus laughs. Zeke eyes his roommate, pushing Marcus’s arms out of his space before giving a small wave to the camera.

Isabell just looks at them for a moment, before nodding. From this perspective, they might as well be her size. Or she could be theirs. She can’t stop a smile from spreading across her face. She leans forward, covering her mouth with her hands. No human has ever done something quite like this before. In the small handful of times she’s been unfortunate enough to interact with humans, none of them have ever even attempted to make her feel… equal. They’ve all been a little too interested in the power dynamic with having someone literally held in the palm of their hand. But Marcus has just given her the most wonderful gift. For the first time, she can imagine that there is no size difference here at all! She internally forgives Marcus for the chaos leading up to this moment.

“Thank you.” She breathes, finding that it’s much easier to speak without having the presence of not one, but two humans looming over her.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, um, how… What are you?” Marcus asks, starting the conversation strong. Zeke turns to him quickly, his gaze so intense it’s like he could bore holes through Marcus.

“You can’t just ask someone what they are,” he says evenly. Marcus starts to apologize, but Isabell speaks up first.

“It's okay. I mean… It’s a fair question.” She says taking to fidget with her sleeves. “My parents called us Borrowers,” she shrugs, not knowing how else to elaborate.

“You have, like, a family?” Marcus says, obviously curious, Zeke presses his mouth into a flat line. He's obviously disapproving of Marcus's blunt questions. But he doesn't scold him again, instead he leans back into the couch, crossing his arms over his chest comfortably. Zeke might even be curious about her answers too. She had told him she had family waiting for her, but it didn't seem like he believed her when she said it.

“Um. I used to,” Isabell says shifting awkwardly. “It’s… It’s just me nowadays though.”

“Oh. I’m… I’m sorry,” Marcus says, his tone shifting from excited curiosity to something softer.

“It’s … It is what it is,” she shrugs, “I don’t really want to get into all that right now.”

“No, no, yeah, uh… yeah. That’s cool. I totally get it. Uhm,” silence hangs in the air for an uncomfortably long moment, “Sorry to keep asking questions, but uh, Where did you come from?” Marcus asks, breaking them from their lull in conversation and changing the subject away from her family.

“The walls,” Isabell replies simply.

“You… you live in the walls?” Marcus asks, glancing around the apartment as if he's trying to study it, trying to imagine how she could possibly make a home inside the wall. Perhaps he's looking for some kind of tell, some kind of external indicator that the space in there is not what it seemed to be.

“I didn’t always live here. I mean, I grew up in the walls of a house.... Um I couldn’t tell you where it is, it’s been a long time. And my family moved a lot when I was growing up. Then eventually, I was on my own, and I made my way here. I’ve been here for uh, two years?” She squints, trying to remember. “ That's the short version," she punctuates the thought with a shrug. "I had to cross a street to get here,” Isabell lifts her chin, trying to convey to the humans that yes, that is a big deal and she is proud of her achievement.

“Oh my gosh,” Marcus mumbles, astonished. Zeke tilts his head slightly, but doesn't seem particularly amazed.

“Yeah. It was scary,” she says.

“Why risk it? Why move at all? Wouldn’t it be a lot safer to just stay in the same house?”

“Not necessarily. The rule was always: If you’re ever seen by a human, or you think they might be noticing you, you have to move. No exceptions.”

“Wha- Why?” Marcus leans forward obviously invested.

“Because," she pauses, trying to decide if this is too much information to be revealing. She decides to say if, if for no other reason than to watch their reaction, "If a human sees you, then they’ll try to catch you,” she explains, looking down and fidgeting with the bandage on her leg. “And if they catch you, they’ll keep you as a pet. Or they'll do something worse.” When she looks up at the screen again Marcus has a horrified expression on his face. Even Zeke blinks his eyes wider, both stunned by this information.

“You- Isabell, you know that’s not what’s happening here, right?” Marcus asks after a long moment of tense silence. When she doesn’t respond right away he says, “Oh my gosh. I swear, Isabell. That’s not what’s happening,” he looks at her, his eyes begging her to say something.

“Okay,” she says noncommittally, eliciting a short whine from Marcus.

“Does this mean you have to move again?” Zeke speaks up, as Marcus is just staring worriedly at the screen. Isabell wants to say, ‘yes. no exceptions.’ But she pauses.

“This building has a lot of little houses. And people move in and out of them regularly. I’ll be fine,” she says carefully.

“But you won’t come back to this apartment again?” Zeke asks.

“Would you want me to?” She fires back, but she already knows the answer. Of course they want her to come back. Their very own little borrower, visiting them until they decide they would rather keep her. But this was the safest response. If they know she doesn’t plan on coming back, they’ll never let her leave.

“You’d be welcome any time,” Zeke counters, not exactly answering her question. She supposes she didn’t exactly answer his question either. Talking with Zeke feels less like a conversation, and more like a game of chess.

“Yeah,” Marcus chimes in, “If you needed a break from everything, or if you wanted to talk to someone, you'll always have a place to go. Isabell I… I really hope that we could become friends over the time it takes for your leg to get better. I… I don’t want you to be afraid of us, okay?” he flashes a small, comforting smile.

“Yeah. I’ll think about it,” she says quietly after a moment.

When it becomes apparent that that’s the best they’re going to get out of her, Marcus takes the reins of the conversation. If he has more questions for her, he's saving them for later. Instead, he runs through a list of supplies they’re planning on getting together for her, then after that he has no shortage of chatter to fill the space between them. Judging by how little Zeke has said this whole time, she figures that Marcus is no stranger to talking to people of few words.

She’s spent just enough time with these humans to form an initial opinion of them. Where Zeke is cold and calculating, Marcus is a warm bundle of chaotic energy. He is a big smile to Zeke’s furrowed brow. Both of them make her nervous for different reasons. Zeke, because she can’t tell what he’s thinking and when he looks at her, the eye contact is sharp and absolute. Marcus, because he’s loud and unpredictable, and seems to be a very hands-on kind of individual. They are far from being the worst humans that she’s met, that’s for sure. She’s confident she’ll be able to make it through however long she needs to until they deem her healed enough to let her go. Or, that she’ll be able to make it through however long she needs to until she can find an opportunity to escape.

She thinks about what Marcus said for a moment. He doesn’t want her to be afraid. A part of her feels like she’ll always be afraid. She can’t imagine completely trusting these humans. Sure, they helped her patch up her leg, they've been nice so far, and they even removed the pressure of the size difference between them for this conversation, but they’re still massive. They’re still human.

[smallbigworld]

Underrated G/t Content

I just want to call attention to one of the most beautiful comics I’ve ever seen, that is purely G/t in every sense, but it’s so so painfully underrated.

Violet Goes to the Beach by WEBTOON is absolutely g o r g e o u s! The characters are so lovable, the story is mysterious and magnificent. There’s so much depth, and I never see anybody talking about it.

Let’s all lift up some G/t content today. Reblog, comment below, or making a post of your own about an underrated piece of content made by the G/t community. Let’s support our own ❤️

[smallbigworld]

Dauntless

Word count: 6437

Trigger warning: Contains both Fearplay and tooth rotting fluff, read at your own risk.

Okay soooo, this was based on a dream that I had and actually remembered for once. I decided to write this self-indulgent self-insert fic between creator and creation. Enjoy <3

And this is my longest story by far…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are at my feet

We’re by the fire

You’re a gentle, purring beast

And I’m alive

Hunter - Paris Paloma

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My phone’s alarm blared, groaning as I reached over to silence it. I checked the time, tossing the device back onto the shitty bed. A loud “Fuck!’ flew past my lips as my joints snapped and cracked. Having back problems sucked enough, and this damn cot was not helping anything.

“Hey, pipe down… some of us are trying to sleep!” someone snapped to my left.

“Sorry, sorry,” I whispered, grabbing my phone, alongside a handful of other items.

I quickly tossed everything into my backpack, trying to leave as quietly as possible. Once the door closed, I stretched before heading down to the woman’s showers. I pulled out my phone, sighing loudly, as there was still no service here. “The only thing this damn thing is good for any more is a glorified alarm clock. At least I still have access to my music,” I grumbled.

Once I reached the showers, I took out what I needed and placed the rest back. I got undressed and put on my shower shoes. Reaching in, I turned the water on, wanting to let it warm up for a bit before getting in. I shuddered, realizing I was the only one in here.

It was quiet… too quiet.

I fucking hate the quiet.

I grabbed my phone, tapping on a random song. The unease melted away once the music hit my ears. Sighing gratefully, I stepped into the shower.

I raised my head to let the warm water run down my face. My eyes cracked open some, homesickness hitting me hard. I left everyone I loved behind for a shot in the dark. While the pay was decent for what it was, it just wasn’t worth being so damn lonely. I slumped against the shower wall, letting out a choked sob. Crying was something I very rarely did, but when enough emotions built up inside… the dam would burst. I broke down in silence, not wanting to be heard. I missed my parents, family, and my partner. Fuck, I even missed my cat.

“I could really go for a stiff drink right now,” I mumbled, wiping my eyes.

Standing back up, I finished quickly and turned the water off. I dried myself the best I could. Damn… I could also go for a good soak in a tub. Reaching into my backpack, I grabbed the day’s clothes and got dressed, making sure to put my headphones on.

Great way of tuning out the world around me for a while.

Once my boots were laced up tight, I went down to the mess hall. It was fairly busy with how early it was in the morning. Through tired eyes, I watched people grab food, eat, chat, and whatnot. I got in line, my face brightening up at what was being served.

Finally, something I’ll actually enjoy eating!

The good ol’ standard American breakfast was being served today. My mouth watered heavily as I got my plate, struggling not to bounce as I inched closer.

Most of the time, I’d only find one or two things that I could eat. Some days, I just wouldn’t eat at all. It wasn’t so much the taste as it was the texture. Sensory issues really did suck with a fixed menu.

I must've looked really stupid getting my food as the biggest, cheesiest grin was plastered on my damn face. My bouncing started to speed up when a few sausage links were given to me. Still grinning like a dumbass, I gave a happy “Thank you,” racing off to eat.

I didn’t waste any time, scarfing down every last bite. You’d think the apocalypse was coming, with how fast I stuffed everything into my face. It was a good thing I had a knack for finding the most secluded places to sit, as I would’ve likely licked the plate clean if I could.

Once I was done eating, I grabbed my phone to check the time. It seems I had about an hour before my shift started, and what better way to kill time than by reading? Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a red book with silver foil accents. The title, “Wonderland,” could be seen as clear as day. Kicking my feet back and forth, I skimmed the pages, music loudly playing in my ears.

“Oooh, a dungeon inside of a giant worm? That would be so cool to try and run,” I hummed, eyes lighting up.

I continued to read, occasionally singing softly. I was so engrossed in what I was doing that it hadn't occurred to me to keep track of the time. Once I actually remembered to check my phone, I went pale. “Shit, shit, shit,” I hissed, packing up in a hurry. I raced down the hall as fast as my body would let me. Darting into the janitorial office, I huffed and puffed as I pulled my headphones onto my neck, and then clocked in.

“Cutting it awfully close there, Lex,” came a voice from behind.

“S-Sorry sir... lost track of time,” I murmured sheepishly.

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed nonchalantly. “Well… either way, it’s your turn to clean the high wing this month.”

“The high wing? That’s where all the rich people work, right?”

“Yep…”

“Could I take my bag with me? I’ll leave it in the cart while I work…”

“Alright, just don’t let it be a distraction.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say, giving a small smile.

With no hesitation, I grabbed the biggest cart I could find, stuffing my backpack on the bottom. “Alright, I’m off,” I say with a big smile. “I’ll do my best.” Wasting no time, I took off out of the office, pausing briefly as I thought I heard the man say something.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours had passed by now, leaving me to my duties. I had music blasting in my ears as usual, happily humming along. Occasionally, the urge to be goofy would come along and I’d dance or just spin in place. That damn giddy grin never left my face as I worked.

I felt good, better than good… strangely amazing.

Giving in to the temptation, I let myself dance around the room, singing loudly. No one was here besides me… who’d care if I had a bit of fun? Yes, I still cleaned as I bounced around the room. The craziness did die down some as I returned to work. I was so caught up in wiping down the big meeting table that I failed to notice the presence behind me. A loud yelp rushed out as a heavy hand touched my shoulder. Spinning around, I saw two well dressed men staring down at me. I quickly pulled my headphones down, pausing my music so I could hear.

“S-Sorry, thought this room wasn’t in use. I’ll leave,” I spluttered.

I took a few steps back, looking a bit sheepish. God, did I hate people being incredibly close to me. As I was about to leave with the cart, one of the men spoke.

“Actually, Ms. W… We’re looking for you.”

“Is something wrong? Did I do something?” I reflexively asked.

“No, nothing’s wrong; we have a job that we need you to do. It won’t take too long.”

I gave a meek nod, heading to grab the cart. “You won’t be needing that, Ms. W. Someone will be here shortly to finish what you started.”

“Can I at least get my bag from it?” I asked meekly.

The shorter of the two gave a grunt and a nod. “Hurry up, we don’t have all day,” he barked.

Something about this just felt off to me. I don’t know why, it just did. I turned off my headphones, stuffing them in my bag as I walked over to them. They motioned for me to follow behind. I swallowed hard, holding my bag close to my chest for some sense of comfort.

I was led around the high wing for a bit, soon coming to an elevator. After entering, I slinked to the back as much as the space allowed me to. A soft, meek whine came out, cradling my bag close to my chest.

Would someone say something, please? The silence is killing me…

The urge to say something was getting to the point I was just about to blurt anything. Until the taller man turned to face me, opening his mouth to speak. “Ms. W. I must ask. Are you aware of what we do here?” He asked inquisitively.

“Not particularly, no… I was offered the job by someone and went for it. Didn’t exactly go over the details.”

“Typical of the youth that gets offered anything these days,” the short man muttered.

“Masterson… please,” the other murmured. “Anyway, it may shock you to learn this is a… zoo of sorts.”

“A zoo! On this scale!” I blurt out. “This is cruise ship levels of staff, how is it possible for a place like this to even function?”

The same man chuckled at my outburst. “Well, you see,” he began. “We have quite a few wealthy benefactors that graciously donate considerably to maintain this fine establishment.”

“That’s so cool,” I breathed, eyes lightening up.

The man smiled, turning back to his partner. I started to fiddle with my bag a bit, pausing as I heard “Masterson” speak up. “Really, Smith? You do this fucking song and dance every time we put on the show,” he hissed so softly I almost missed it.

Out of the corner of my eye, Smith’s lips formed into a cruel smile. “Lighten up some; not like she’s going to remember this conversation once everything’s done…”

The elevator once again fell into silence, the two men facing away from me.

That gnawing feeling in my stomach started to grow worse by the second. What did they mean, I’m not going to remember anything? I cowered in the corner of the small space, holding my bag tightly to my chest. Another soft whimper escaped from me, the dread of what was to come eating me alive on the inside.

The soft ding of the elevator was enough to make me jump, considering how frazzled my nerves were.

“Calm down, Ms. W.” Masterson barked, his irritation clear as day. “It’s just the damn elevator…”

“S-Sorry,” I murmured, sinking back.

“We’re here, Ms. W. Please follow us,” Smith responded, back to his chipper tone from before.

The words “I don’t wanna do this,” were right on my tongue, screaming for me to shout it out. My body was begging for me to scream out, cry, anything at all, but I couldn’t. It was like I was under a trance, legs moving under someone else’s will and not my own. My eyes filled with terror as these men led me to my unknown fate.

We walked along bare, lifeless hallways for some time, soon stopping in front of a steel door. Masterson pulled a key card from his suit pocket, swiping it. Another buzzer went off, a green light flickering on above the door. I heard a soft click, Smith reached over and opening it.

“Through this door,” he smiled, the look in his eyes sending shivers down my spine. There was a strange, malicious hunger to them, like he was shoving me into the lion's den just to watch them feast. “This way please, Ms. W.” He repeated.

“W-What is it you're having me do?” I asked, desperately trying to buy some time.

“You’ll be briefed once you pass the door,” Smith replied, the smile never leaving his lips.

“I-I don’t know if I want to go through with this,” I said meekly, taking a step back.

“As if you have a choice,” Masterson’s venom coated hiss echoed behind me.

A sudden sharp pain burst from the middle of my back as I was forced past the steel frame. I landed on my side with a loud thud, a dull throb in my upper shoulder. Pushing aside the pain, I quickly scrambled to my feet, desperately trying to reach the door.

“Word of advice… lighten your fucking load,” the stout man sneered, slamming the door behind him.

I returned to the entrance, banging on the metal as loud as I could… it was utterly useless.

I was trapped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Broken sobs escaped me as I fell to my knees. I curled into a tight ball, giving in to my despair and anguish. Time moved at a crawl as my cries echoed in the chamber around me. I slowly collected myself, groaning as I got to my feet.

“Now is not the time to sit and feel fucking sorry for yourself,” I hissed quietly.

Slowly, my legs moved along to the ground in an effort to feel around, nearly tripping over my bag. A shaky sigh blew out as I bent down to pick it up. It might have been a wise idea to leave it behind, but I’m stubborn like that. My bag and I were seeing this through… whatever this may be. I held the damn thing close, treating it as if it were my child, forcing myself to walk forward. Moving a hand, I placed it along the smooth, cool walls in hopes of letting it guide me.

One step onward.

Two steps.

Three.

My breathing grew heavy as I sped up, just wanting to see anything at this point. Faster, ever so faster until I was at a full sprint. I tightly squeezed my eyes closed as I ran forward, lungs full on burning now.

I needed to breathe… just for a second.

I leaned against the wall, desperately slowing my intake of air to a normal pace. Keeping this up, I lifted my head, eyes opening slightly. Both flew open as relief started to bud inside my chest.

Light… it was faint, but it was there.

A few loose tears fell from my cheeks as I forced my sore legs to move again. “Come on, nearly fucking there,” I wheezed. I didn’t care at all at this point… I ran like my life depended on it.

The lights burned my eyes once I reached what I thought was my freedom, shielding my face. Squinting, I tried to see where I was exactly. It looked like a barren meadow, large trees planted sparsely and uprooted. Big boulders in much of the same way. The once pristine ground held deep gashes easily over ten feet deep or so.

Once my eyes adjusted to how freaking bright it was, what I saw made my blood run cold. Those same steel panels lined the whole area. I couldn’t tell how big it was here… just that I knew I couldn’t run the entirety in a day alone. Letting my eyes lead, I had to strain my neck just to see the next bit. It wasn’t noticeable at first, but if you stand just right and you could see glass lining the very top. Hell, I swore I saw figures moving around up there.

Outright dread started to boil in my gut when I perceived exactly where I was…

I wasn’t outside… It was a large underground stadium.

“Well… seems the little mouse finally decided to come out to play with me,” A smooth voice rumbled, the ground vibrating with each word.

I whirled around, but no one greeted my eyes.

“Look above you… little mouse.”

I jerked my head up, the sight before me sent me reeling back. A massive figure loomed over me, ravenous crimson eyes staring directly at me. My eyes darted around as I was coming to terms with what was before me. By the voice alone, I could tell this thing was definitely female…

She spoke again, voice dripping with hunger. “Ooo, a little mouse with some meat on her bones… I’m going to savor every part of you.”

That set things into motion.

Scrambling to my feet, I bolted. My already sore body ached as I ran, a shrill scream exiting me as a massive clawed hand trying to catch its prize. I jumped, missing those gigantic fingers by a few inches. “Come on, little mouse,” she purred. “Make this fun for me. Make it last… I don’t get one as plump as you very often.”

That rumble of hers was deafening, so fucking deafening. I clamped my hands over my ears as I ran. Everything was throwing my senses into overload… At this point I may as well experience a meltdown and get it over with. However, sheer adrenaline was the only thing keeping me going.

The thing slammed a hand beside me, fingers digging deep in the dirt. The sudden action sent me tumbling onto my side. My terrified eyes once again looked up at her massive face. From where I stood, she looked pretty human to me… despite the massive size, cat-like eyes, and double canines leering at me.

”Aww, it seems the little mouse needs a bit of a breather,” She hissed, so close I could see the saliva dripping from her fangs. “Such a shame… I was hoping to play with you for just a bit longer.”

I whimpered, trying to slide back, but was stopped by her hand blocking the way. “Who said you could leave,” she sneered. “We’re just getting started here.” Like lightning itself, she lunged forward, snapping in my direction only missing by mere feet.

I didn’t hesitate again… I ran.

“That’s it, little mouse. Run!” She thundered. “Makes it all the more appetizing when I finally do catch you!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hide… I need to hide. Catch my breath. Something, anything to throw this… this thing off of my tail.

The words were better left unspoken at this point, as I once again stopped to catch my breath. Someone in better shape would be able to keep this up for a while.

Me? Fuck no… I’m barely holding it together.

At this point, I’m just a sitting duck waiting for the predator to pounce.

“Little mouse,” her damned words rumbled everywhere. “You’re making this way too easy. Are you willingly offering yourself to me?”

Her remarks were starting to get to me…

I couldn’t take much more of this…

Shut up, Shut up…

“JUST SHUT UP!” I screamed raspily.

The giantess paused, surprise slowly melting into amusement. “Seems we don’t have a little mouse here, but we have a little stoat instead,” she purred, leisurely circling around me. We locked eyes, her predatory grin growing wider. “How about we make a deal?” She hummed, eyes narrowing.

“W-What kind of deal?” I wheezed.

“Simple really. Avoid me for as long as you can and you’ll be free to go.” She got close once again, a predacious edge to her voice as she whispered. “I’ll even give you a head start…”

”H-How…”

“Mmm?” She rumbled, still locked on me.

“H-How long do I get?”

“Ten minutes, an extra five for you to run ahead. Now, if I were you… I’d get going, little stoat.”

“I… at least need a quick breather!” I protested.

“Use your five minutes however you want, but once they’re up…” she didn’t need to finish that sentence, the licking of her lips loud and clear.

I couldn’t exactly run, having used most of my energy earlier. So I settled on short bursts every few seconds. Periodically, I’d glance back at her, that smug grin never leaving her face. Turning back to the task at hand, I had to try to find something to help this end in my favor.

Those five minutes were the longest in my life as I tried to scout out a place to hunker down. “Time’s up,” the creature sneered. “Now… time for the chase.” The ground shook with each step she took, throwing me off balance. “Come on little stoat, make this a challenge for me.”

I don’t know if it was bravery or just sheer stupidity, but I flipped her off as I ran. She must have gotten a kick out of that, her laughter thundering around me as a result. No matter… I needed to avoid this monster for as long as possible.

I ran and ran, gaining momentum. I’m not sure how long I had been running, but my time had to be almost over. An exhausted smile pulled at my lips. Free… I would make it, beat the bitch at her own game.

I spoke too fucking soon…

A rock.

A simple rock caused me to lose my footing and fall face first into the dirt.

That smug voice rang above me, inching ever so closer. “Mmm, guess you're still a little mouse after all,” she purred. “And darn… you were so close to actually winning this.” I tried to get to my feet, screaming as I was hoisted into the air. Fear's grip returned as she dangled me by my legs.

My breathing quickened as panic began to rise.

Being this high up, upside down of all things, was absolutely terrifying.

My vision grew dizzy as I thrashed around, screaming, pleading, for her to put me down.

“Put you down? I know the perfect place for you,” she hummed.

My screams grew louder as she lifted me overhead, letting go of my legs.

The fall was excruciating, everything slowing still and speeding up all at once. My cries and pleas were sniffed out by the snapping of her teeth.

You think landing in a giant mouth would be better than free falling?

Let me enlighten you… it was not. It’s fucking terrifying.

Every noise I made inside, intensified tenfold. Something as simple as moving my wrist against the tongue's surface was enough to send my senses to their limit.. Hell, even my own screams made my eardrums hurt.

I was going to have one hell of a migraine when this was over…

Everything started to move all at once, earning a cry of alarm. I shrieked, roughly pinned to the roof of her mouth being savored like some favored sweet. I hated the feeling of her tongue on my bare skin. Too many textures to try and comprehend all at once. Rough, soft, wet… cold?

How is it so cold inside of her mouth?

I didn’t have any time to ponder the thought, everything abruptly shifting backwards. Scrambling as I tried in vain to delay what was about to happen. I screamed as her throat opened up, eagerly claiming its prize. I was pulled down quickly, squeezed on all sides, slowly being pushed towards my tomb.

It was becoming too much for me, the noise, lack of light, and being squeezed everywhere. I kicked and thrashed trying to get the esophageal walls to just stop, fucking, touching me!

I gasped, the pressure on my body increasing gradually then dropping off completely. Shaking violently, I curled into a fetal position. The slow steady thump of her heart was making my head ring even more. I sobbed, begging for it to be all over.

“Too… too much.” I whimpered, covering my ears.

“I’m sorry… sit tight okay?”

I heard those words as clear as day, but nothing reverberated within the fleshy chamber that held me captive. My thoughts didn't last long, I cried out as everything shifted around me vigorously.

It… it was just becoming too much to bear, vision blurring — what little there was to begin with.

My breathing was short and shallow, adding to the already growing headache.

Don’t know how it happened, but I lost consciousness…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dusk sighed, biting her lip when she felt the movements in her middle stop. It was hard to fight the urge to place a comforting hand over her stomach, desperately wanting to let the girl know she was safe.

“God… she put up a decent struggle going down. Hope the kid’s alright,” she thought silently.

The giantess's pointed ear twitched as she glanced up, picking up on the faint cheers and whoops from the denizens' concealed outpost. She snarled, fingers digging into the ground. Every fucking month they sent some poor soul into her cage just to be chased around and eaten for show.

Dusk desperately wanted to show these fucks what true fear felt like.

Grabbing a good sized rock, she chucked it as hard as she could. A smirk formed on her lips as shouts of alarm and surprise came once it made contact with the glass near the top. A faint beeping near her neck made her roll her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. You freaky assholes had your fun… now piss off and leave me alone.”

She grumbled a few choice words under her breath, carefully getting to her feet. Dusk was about to head back to her sleeping quarters, when something caught her eye. Near the entrance where the human came from was a black speck, somewhat strange as everything was shades of green and brown. Getting closer to it, the giantess could easily tell it was a backpack with her sharp sight.

“The kid must have brought it in with her,” she chuckled. “Odd, but I’d imagine she’ll want it back.”

The massive woman delicately picked it up with her claws, taking great care not to rip it. Dusk was left surprised by the weight of the tiny item, curious as to what was inside. Well, that would have to wait, as it would be hell to even try to open the tiny thing.

Dusk placed the bag in her palm, heading over to her “private” area, closing the massive door with a loud slam.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My body felt sore all over; it hurt to even move. A shaky sigh rushed through me, the weight of my body sinking into softness around me.

Soft?

Where was I even at?

My eyes fluttered open, greeted by the soft crimson glow of the interior. My blood ran cold when the events from before came flooding back to me. A shrill shriek escaped from my lungs, my sore body flailing about madly. Everything tightened around me, my arms pinned to my sides. I let out a meek whimper, tears falling from my eyes.

I’m going to die, truly die inside of this fleshy tomb.

“Calm down… good grief, I don’t need you kicking up a storm in there,” her voice vibrated all around me.

“L-Loud,” I whined quietly.

“Huh? Speak up, I can barely hear you.”

“IT’S TOO FUCKING LOUD IN HERE!” I screamed. “My clothes are soaked, sticking to every part of my body! Even there! I’m being touched anywhere and everywhere! And it stinks! I hate it! I want out! I WANT OUT!”

“Oh… alright.” She spoke much softer now, barely a whisper. “Just give me a sec to get you out.”

Everything loosened up, my body sinking back into the folds of the stomach lining. How was I even still alive like this? I was pretty sure I passed out here earlier… didn’t I?

I cried out, squirming weakly as everything tightened once again. “Need… you to work… with me. Try to keep still, okay?” Everything briefly let up as she spoke, only to return with a vengeance. A timid whimper was all I could muster, trying to remain still for the giantess to do her thing.

I closed my eyes as tight as I could as I was pushed up her throat and into her cavernous maw. She pushed my small frame to the roof of her mouth, sucking on me for a while. I gave her palate a swift kick, reminding her to let me out.

A low chuckle came in response, light flowing in as her jaws parted. A shiver went down my spine seeing two of her fingers coming to grab me. “W-Wait,” I yelped, eyes wide. A sigh rushed out, followed by a low inquisitive rumble of my captor. “N-Not like how you picked me up before… please,” I whimpered.

“I’m… I’m terrified of heights.”

I felt everything shift forward, squeaking as the massive muscle under me shifted. More light illuminated my surroundings, causing me to cover my eyes from how bright it was. Another surprised cry escaped my lungs as I slid off her tongue and into an open palm. I scrambled to the middle as much as possible, not wanting to guess how high I was.

“I was hoping to try and get as much saliva off as I could… make the clean up a bit easier on you,” she chuckled quietly, wiping the side of her mouth.

I gave no reply, hugging my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth.

“Hey kid, you okay?” She tried to touch me with a finger, but I swatted it away.

“Don’t touch me!” I screamed, my emotions taking over.

I buried my head in my arms, sobbing like a two year old. Just take it away… take this hellish day away. Why isn’t it over yet? Will it ever be? I wish I never took this fucking job. I wish I was home with my family, friends, and my beloved kitty.

My sobs grew louder and louder in a cursed crescendo.

“Hey… I’m going to put you down, okay?”

I didn’t listen, too lost in my one-woman pity party to even notice her lowering me to the ground. She must have done this before, as I was on the ground when I looked up. Sniffling, I slid back some, wanting as much distance as possible. She got low, giving me that much needed space.

“Hey… I don’t know if this is going to help much, but I believe this is yours.”

With wide eyes, I watched as she placed something a few feet in front of me. It was my bag! Yeah, it may have been stupid to be so happy to see something as insignificant as a backpack, but I was weird like that. Scooting close enough, I reached out and snagged it, hugging it close to my chest.

“T-Thank you,” I murmured.

“You like that bag quite a lot, don’t you?” she chuckled, resting her chin on her hands.

My cheeks flushed from embarrassment. “It’s not the bag, but what’s inside of it…” I say meekly. “I find comfort in items that hold my current fixation. They remind me of home. Those I care about.”

“Ah, I see.” She moved, making me slide away, fear once again gripping me.

“Easy, easy… I’m just trying to get comfortable. This pen isn’t easy on the joints.”

Again I didn’t respond, eyes remaining locked on her. I watched as she twisted and stretched her massive body trying to get comfortable in the cramped space. My eyes did wonder somewhat, moving along her muscular arms, legs, and chest. Now that I could actually look at her without having to run for dear life… she was built pretty damn well.

“Like what you see?”

Her words snapped me from my stupor, cheeks now burning from her question. “S-Sorry… I didn’t mean to stare,” I whispered. She chuckled, twitching an elvish ear. “You’re fine. I don’t really mind, in fact…” The giantess got lower to the ground, a seductive smile forming. “I encourage it.”

My face grew hot despite everything that happened, a flustered peep escaping from my lips. I hid my face in my bag, wanting to scream into the void. The woman’s sudden laughter thundered around me. Screaming, I covered my ears again.

“Loud! Too loud!”

“Oh right… sorry, kid,” she murmured sheepishly. “I forget how powerful these lungs of mine can be.”

Cautiously, I pulled my hands away from my ears as I sat up, shuddering as deep maroon pools stared back at me. Wait… did her eyes change color? I could’ve sworn they were crimson before.

“Something on your mind?”

”Your eyes… they were previously red, right?”

“Yeah, they change based on either my mood or current hunger level. Also what’s your name? Don’t think you want me calling you mouse or kid while you’re stuck here…”

“Stuck? What do you mean by ‘stuck’ here?”

“Knew this was coming eventually,” she muttered, looking away briefly. “So… after the show, it’s not uncommon for the organizers to leave a human with me. Don’t exactly know why. My best guess is they let the hype die down before letting them go. ”

“H-How long am I going to be trapped in here?” I asked, voice shaking with every word.

“At best, three days at worst… little over a week.”

“No, no… nonononono.” Panic set in at her words, I started rocking repetitively.

It was getting hard to breathe, my chest starting to feel tight. I could feel my heart pounding rapidly, adding more to the pain.

“Hey it’s okay, calm down,” the giantess spoke softly, moving her hands closer.

My eyes darted from side to side as she got approached.

“Don’t touch me, don’t touch me, don’t touch me,” I sobbed repeatedly, fingers digging into my skull. Out of pure stress, I pulled at my hair with one hand and bit down on the other.

She was trying to tell me something, but it didn’t help, as it fell on deaf ears.

I bit down hard on my hand, the dull, metallic taste of blood hitting my tongue.

She spoke again. With some effort, I could make out her words: ”Look at me.” The woman’s voice was firm, yet gentle.

“Breathe…”

I tried, only short shaky breaths coming. Nothing was helping… I was going to be forgotten about.

“What helps you? What grounds your mind?”

“D-Darkness, b-but not pitch black,” I forced out, tears running down my cheeks.

“Okay… anything else?”

“M-Music… not t-too soft, n-not too loud.”

“Keep your eyes on me, okay?” She moved her hands slowly, cupping them over head but also giving me enough space. A low hum came from her, the perfect pitch for an aching head. My breathing began to slow to normal as the throbbing in my head and chest dissipated.

“There we go,” she smiles softly. “Better now?”

”A-A little,” I say timidly.

“A little is better than nothing…”

I glanced away, pushing up my glasses. A lot was on my mind right now, anxiety aside. But there was one thing I could get out of the way…

“Lex…”

“Hmm?” The giantess spoke, ears perking.

”You asked for my name right? It’s Alexis, but I prefer Lex.”

”Well Lex, it’s nice to meet you,” she purred. “I’m Dusk, the sexy giantess.”

I snorted at her retort, which soon turned into full-on laughter. Dusk’s eyes seemed to sparkle, her grin widened some. She readjusted, resting her cheek on her hand. “I gotta say, this is the fastest a human has ever calmed down around me. Most just end up huddled in a corner, begging to be let go or for me not to eat them again.”

“I guess that I surprise myself sometimes,” I laughed meekly. “I think somewhere deep down I can tell if someone is good or not. But then again, it doesn’t always follow through. I’ve been burned more than once before. I think my biggest flaw is that I’m too trusting, to a fault…”

”Trust is a two way street, easily earned but just as easily shattered,” Dusk responded.

“Yeah…” I murmured. “I do have a question I’d like to get off of my chest, if that's okay?”

”Sure, what is it?”

”This? This situation, what is it exactly, and does it happen often?”

Dusk sighed, running a hand through her short matted black hair. “Well… to put it bluntly, it’s a show of sorts. They toss low level employees into my pen, we have a game of cat and mouse, I eat them… rise and repeat.”

“God, that’s horrible! I would imagine this whole thing leaves them pretty shaken up after they're finally allowed to leave.”

“Uhhh, about that…” she began. “I usually wipe or alter their memories, trying to ease the burden a bit. I can do the same for you when the time comes, if you want?”

“If it involves you touching me… I’ll deal with the increase in therapy bills,” I huffed sarcastically.

Dusk snickered quietly at my retort. “Noted. I’ll keep the physical contact to a minimum.” She rolled onto her back, stretching out a fair bit. I couldn’t help but be in awe at what lay before me, still trying to grasp that it was even real.

“Hey, Lex?”

I snapped out of my haze to see her open palm placed before me. Confused, I looked up at her, tilting my head to the side. “Would you like to climb on? Don’t think sleeping where you’re at is going to be very comfortable…”

I gave Dusk an uneasy glance, holding my bag tight to my chest.

“Right… forgot, scared of heights,” she murmured.

Biting my lip, I shakily got to my feet. Readjusting my bag, I crawled onto her open hand. She met me this far, I might as well try and do the same… but that didn’t stop my body from shaking. The giantess’s face softened a bit at my actions, using both hands to cradle me. I closed my eyes tightly as she moved, a small whimper coming out.

“You okay there?” Dusk asked, concerned.

“Y-Yeah… still a lot to process in one setting.”

“Well, for what it’s worth… Thank you. It’s nice to have a real conversation for once. I can’t remember the last time I’ve talked with someone.”

I smiled, “Yeah… same here, even if it took a round trip through your gut to get to this point.”

Dusk smirked at that, leaning back in her makeshift bed. “Hey for what it was worth… you tasted pretty good.”

“Annnnd, I’m not going to continue this conversation. I’d rather not repeat that again. Too much for the senses all at once…”

“No promises… but I’ll keep the eating to the down low,” she chuckled, letting slide off of her hand.

Shifting a bit more, Dusk reached over to grab a sheet of cloth. She proceeded to rip a small section of it, handing it to me. “Sorry, this isn’t exactly a 5 star hotel,” she muttered. “But at least it will keep you warm.”

“Thanks,” I responded quietly, taking the makeshift blanket. Yawning, I propped up my backpack to use as a pillow. Grabbing the fabric, I pulled it over my body. It didn’t smell the greatest, but would keep me warm at least. I was close to passing out when Dusk broke the silence.

“Sleep tight,” she murmured.

“You too,” I said with a smile, soon succumbing to sleep’s embrace.

[smallbigworld]

G/t vore Writing Masterlist

A Game of Fear and Shrinking: rewritten 🤏

ao3 link (registered users only)

Original version (2017)

The Tenor 🎼

ao3 link (registered users only)

Mr. Biggs fanart by @44-mr-midnight-44

[smallbigworld]

Spelunking.

Super short (2.5K) self indulgent story of a borrower!you getting caught by Christopher and swallowed up <3 Maybe bring better equipment next time you try borrowing from a maneater...

G/t, ambiguous ending, rope play in the throat, and mentions of fatal <3 enjoy!

You can’t believe you got caught.

The man who lives in the apartment you’ve been borrowing from is home so rarely that you suppose you’ve gotten careless. After all, he’s never around to hear your heavy footsteps on the counters or the scrabbling of clumsy hands against drawers. His two cats are easy enough to maneuver around as well, seeing as one of them is trained well enough to not go on the counter, and to scream at the other one whenever it gets the bright idea of chasing you along the countertop. 

You’d been testing your new rope, tying it to all manner of things in the kitchen and letting yourself be slowly lowered off the edges of drawers, tables, counters… and hadn’t been bothering to keep your laughter at your successes quiet, nor the thuds of your tiny boots as you’d climbed up the edges of his walls and cabinets. 

Everything had been going so well that you’d somehow missed the sound of the bedroom door opening and the light in the hallway, and by the time you realized that something was amiss… was only due to clawed fingers wrapping around your waist and a soft coo of: “Oh, what do we have here?”

And now, here you are, dangling between his fingers from the rope you’d thought had been such a clever tool to get around the maze of his apartment. You can’t bring yourself to speak as you stare up at him meekly, the light reflecting off his glasses making his eyes seem cold and far away- near impossible to read. 

He hasn’t spoken since his initial greeting, if you can even call it that. All he’s done is stare at you with that coldness in his eyes, almost as if he’s calculating something- blinking every now and again, though it does nothing to set your mind at ease. If anything, it makes you feel worse, and when he opens his lips and finally speaks to you properly-

“Well. You should fit. This should be interesting.”

-it does nothing to calm your nerves. 

Before you can ask him what he means, the air is forced out of your lungs by him tugging on your little rope, effortlessly and haphazardly lifting you into the air above his face and leaving you to stare down at him in terrified disbelief. You’ve never met this human before, but from what you’ve gathered, there’s nothing too horrible about him. 

With your lower lip trembling, you look down into his deep brown eyes, searching for any trace of a joke or flickers of sympathy. 

What you receive in return is a toothy smirk. One that plays out almost in slow motion, leaving you helpless to watch as his lips curl away from his teeth, showing the gleaming, drool-slicked and sharp points lining his gums. Your heart starts racing at the sight of them, and again, you try to find your words- but you’re once again interrupted by something terrifying. 

Those teeth were bad enough on their own, but as you stare down at Christopher’s freckled face… they begin to part. 

A warm blast of air rises from the chasm opening beneath you and you find yourself unable to look away as the huge muscle of his tongue shifts- easily the size of a small mattress and just as cushioned- moving from one side of the pink and dripping cavern to the other. The surface of it flexes in waves, and you follow the muscle back toward the darkest pit in the back of his jaws- marked by a swinging uvula and a streamlined tunnel designed to cram anything it can fit inside down.

His throat flexes, and his whole mouth shifts at once- a mess of moving pieces and parts and flesh and teeth rearranging to allow him a soft swallow- and when it opens again, strings of drool connect the bottom of his jaws to the top like the bars of a prison cell. 

Unable to speak, your own mouth opens and closes as you watch his throat shift with his every breath, the idle motions of his tongue twitching and swaying as more and more saliva floods the cavern. 

You’re transfixed, though the spell breaks when his grip on your rope abruptly falters- sending you falling a few inches closer to the gaping maw with a scream. 

A laugh rolls over you in response, and you gasp, clutching the rope in your fingers despite the knot keeping you secure. You’re spinning now, watching the gullet beneath you pulse as you rotate, unable to keep yourself from noticing that it seems to be pulsing in anticipation, the tongue stretching out from between those lips as if to echo the sentiment. 

He’s going to eat you.

No. No, he won’t. 

Surely he won’t. 

Despite not being human, you think for a moment that you’ll be able to appeal to his sympathy, though when you manage to tear your gaze away from his maw to try looking into his eyes--

The rope slides easily through his fingers, and with a rush of air, you plummet- your scream being cut off and muffled by his tongue greeting you. It all but wraps around your sides, and you feel it constrict, pinning your arms to your torso as its owner tips his head back and allows you to fall backward into the cage of his mouth. 

You scream as the tongue folds over you greedily, drinking in your flavour and slathering you in thick saliva. The surface won’t stop moving beneath your hands- cushy and soft and speckled with taste buds that leave a faint bumpy texture pressing against your palms and fingers- though when he abruptly licks you again, you’re flipped onto your side, helpless to do anything but let his tongue squish tightly against your back. The muscle is hot and explorative, wasting no time in dragging its tip along your flailing limbs. 

Everything around you is hot and slick, but the more you fight against it, the more of his saliva seeps through your clothes, soaking your skin and causing you to slip around easily in the chasm of his mouth. A zigzag of light filtering between his teeth is the only way for you to see the warm pink of his tongue as it continues to effortlessly bat you and part of your flimsy rope around. 

It’s… so easy for him. 

So easy to treat you as nothing more than a sweet treat. You find yourself pushed against his fangs more than once, and each time, you suck in a sharp breath and wait for him to chew you to pieces- all the while trying to peer out past his lips for one more glance at the world you’re leaving behind.

You don’t get one. 

All your squirms earn you is more buffeting from the tongue, more hums of delight from the throat that you know is yawning wide behind you, but you don’t allow yourself to look at it, trying instead to drag yourself forward in the dripping mouth of the beast. You’re close. Your fingers reach the very edge of his gums and you strain to pull yourself up from his gullet even as you feel your legs brush the very edge of his throat.

A throat that twitches eagerly, the muscles there relaxing with a soft slrrrk of noise- and you yelp as you find yourself falling deeper into the squishy tube. 

“NO-”

The tongue that had been idly sloshing you around arches, filling his mouth and squeezing the air from your lungs in a strangled cry- though you don’t have time to be worried about that as you realize what the predator’s doing.

Swallowing. He’s swallowing. The gullet behind you lurches, a tiny hlrk and a bob of the muscles behind you causing you to throw your arms forward as gravity changes- but you’re too covered in saliva to get a grip on anything. Instead, you’re forced to feel his uvula drag across the back of your shoulders as he hums- the noise loud enough to make your chest feel like it’s buzzing. 

You’re squashed under his uvula entirely with another firm swallow, leaving you scrambling against the plush back of his tongue as you try to reach the swinging tab of flesh. Your fingers are tangled tightly in your rope, clutching it in utter desperation. It’s still holding fast. Still tied to something. 

You try to remember if you saw it caught between his molars or canines as you try to hoist yourself further up his gullet- barely able to even paw the backmost part of his tongue in your attempts to reach freedom. It’s still somewhat taut, taut enough that there’s hope…

…as light falls over you, you look up from the depths of his throat, for one fleeting moment allowing yourself to think that he’s about to cough you up. It must be a mistake. He seems like a kind enough man, and you shift your position slightly to see better, wiping a string of drool out of your face as a shadow falls over his jaws. 

His hand. 

And in his fingers…

No…

In his fingers, he’s lazily clutching the end of your rope. He holds it there with a soft chuckle, one that makes the throat around you ripple, before you watch his mouth start to relax as it closes for what you realize in terror is the final time.

“Wait- wait wait wait-!"

When he swallows, the walls of his throat clutch tight around you, rippling with a soft ulp that folds around you and tries to squeeze you down along with it. Your whole body jerks in place, being squashed tighter into the living tunnel before the rope pulls taut and forces you back up- which causes the muscles around you to quiver and the predator they belong to to hum. 

It’s absolutely deafening this close to his voicebox. 

You gasp as the slimy walls finally ease up, trembling at the sensation of something pressing at you from outside of your new prison. At first, you almost think you’re imagining it, but when the throat around you twitches in response to a firmer press, you realize those are fingers pressing against you from the outside. 

You can’t help but imagine yourself as a lump in Christopher’s throat. 

As you struggle harder, forcing your elbows out against the taunting squishes, in you mind’s eye, you see the small flutter of your movements settled just above his collarbone- the way you stretch the freckled skin and wriggle just beneath it- and as you tug on the rope in a desperate attempt to shimmy back up the way you came-

GLURK.

-the throat constricts tighter, and this time you can’t keep yourself from giving a yelp as you’re sucked further into Christopher’s esophagus- settled just beside his thudding heart. The walls of his gullet have grown tighter, as has the knot of the rope around your waist thanks to said walls hungrily rippling around you in an attempt to squeeze you deeper inside. Again, you struggle to haul yourself further up the rope that’s keeping you suspended in his chest. Your saliva slicked hands fumble to get a grip, and you curse yourself for not having tied too many knots in it before trying to use it out borrowing. In the pitch darkness of his throat, you can’t see much aside a very faint red- the light from outside only penetrating deep enough for you to see the faint outlines of the esophagus squeezing around you. 

Your rope is still being held snugly by the gullet’s walls, the red lifeline almost vanishing into the pulsing darkness, but you squint through the saliva running down your face just long enough to realize how far down you’ve been squeezed. Seeming miles of throat stretch above you, and a flicker of light from the top of the tunnel causes your heart to sink. On either side of you, you hear a rush of air filling your devourer’s lungs, and everything tightens as they fill with oxygen, preparing for another-

Gulp.

-for him, it must be nothing. Just soft and lazy bobs of his adam’s apple that allow your rope to fall deeper into the folds of his throat. You can almost imagine how faint the sound of him swallowing must be outside of the sweltering confines you’re in now- but you can’t quite cling to the illusion long enough to mute the disgusting squelch and ULLLLK that draw you deep enough to feel a distinct change in heat.

Heat from below you.

Heat coupled by the sound of an organic growl, and your heart grows cold despite the warmth of the predator surrounding you as you realize how close to the belly of the beast you’ve gotten.

You scramble against the soft walls, tugging on your slack rope more and more as the sound of gurgling grows louder beneath you. You can’t end up in his stomach. You won’t. You’re a borrower, you’re not-

Glmpk.

He swallows once more. 

Firmly. 

Firmly enough that you manage to look above you in terror, watching the tunnel of his throat constrict in a wave that rushes toward you in the dark, too fast for you to do anything but take a breath in before you’re squished firmly into the upper stomach sphincter. 

Then through it.

Your tiny form lands in his stomach with a wet plop.

The walls around you shudder with a gurgle of greeting, and above you, you hear a long and contented sigh breeze up from the throat you fought for your life not to get squeezed down- unable to keep yourself from envying the air for being able to get past his lips.

You’re not as lucky as the air. The stomach containing you groans in emphasis, the organ steadily starting to rock this way and that, the walls rippling inwards eagerly in what you realize are the beginnings of digestion. Your hands find the rope and you pull on it sharply, earning the sound of a muffled glp from above and the sensation of more and more of it pulling into his belly, coiling around you on the fleshy floor, gulp after gulp ushering it down, down…

The piece of yarn bobs momentarily at the back of Christopher’s throat, and it brushes the folds of flesh there as its pulled down his gullet. It isn’t fully soaked through with his saliva, not yet, and as he sits with his jaws open, he gulps, feeling it stick dryly in his throat- though he persists in his task anyway. 

With a few more short swallows, there’s no trace left of you at all. No rope dangles from between his lips. No shape wriggles in his throat, and as he trails a hand down to his comfortably full stomach… he grins at the realization that you fit so perfectly inside that you’ve completely vanished from the outside world. Not even a lump against his middle surfaces to show anyone where you’ve vanished to, and he purrs in delight, trailing his fingers over his middle and hiccuping suddenly when you squirm. 

“Oh, don’t worry.”

His voice rumbles around you, echoing over the sounds of digestion. One of the fleshy walls folds inward with a prod against you and you feel the tip of one of his claws massaging you into the lining. 

“I think I’m going to let my guts take their time with you… best get comfy in there.” 

[smallbigworld]

Caught 1/3

!Warning!

Fear, angst, pain, cursing, mention of drugs, g/t, graphic story of a crazy giant, mention of fatal vore, a mention of someone being suicidal, ¿gigantophobia?, trauma, bad response dough to fear

Next part:

------------------------

The world was not normal anymore. Everything started 15 years ago afer a yet another global pandemic. Some have passed away, some barely had any changes due to the illness but 1/14 of the population between 1 and 21 became really infected.

You see, it was not a typical disease. Sure, for some it was like a cold but those unfortunate young people who had the right genetic basis for the mutation of the disease were practically cursed. The mutation caused those sick people - depending on a person - either to shrink up to 3-4 inches or grow up to even 60 feet tall.

It took the doctors a few months to find medication to help control the sudden changes of size, but the illness was proven to be incurable. Medication could only help control the size changes slightly better but couldn't fully stop it.

Present time

In this crazy world there was only one thing that wasn't crazy.

"Hunter!" Nate yelled while chasing his best friend. The young boys were friends since they were 8 so now it was a decade of friendship. Their relationship was the only normal thing in the world: no lies, no envy just pure platonic love and..

"Give me back my phone, you psycho!"

Pranks.

"I'm gonna text her" Hunter laughed after unlocking his best friends phone "I'm finally gonna tell Evie that you have a crush on her!"

In a world full of the so called 'size shifters' (they could just call them weriedos in Nates opinion), so basically giants and tinies, having a friend like Hunter was a blessing. Well, at last Nate though that. Hunter didn't have too many friends becouse he wasn't very out going and could come off as cold sometimes but he was surely the sweetest, gentleman ever. Nate on the other hand was the most troublesome kid all middle and high school. He would always ruin something, say something rude to a teacher, skip classes, fail exams..

At last Hunter cared about him. And Nate cared about Hunter as well.

You could practically call them brothers at that point. 10 years of friendship? That sounds like 'forever' is ahead of them. Well.. it was.

This unfortunate day Nate has gotten a 'brilliant' idea: surprise (and scare) Hunter by coming out of his closet (no double meanings) as he returns home from soccer practice.

Everything was going well. Hunters mom bought the lie that Nate was supposed to wait for Hunter in his room and she left the house. Nate didn't have too much time before he heard Hunter opening the front door. He quickly jumped into the closet and closed the door, leaving just a tiny gap, so he could see what was happening on the outside.

The closet was dark, full of clothes and other stuff all around. Those things were nothing special: t-shirts, pants, caps, headphones, medication.. Wait, hold on.

Medication?

"Why does he have pills in there?" Nate though, grabbing the bottle. His mind raced with thoughts. It was too dark for him to figure out what kind of medicine was in the bottle. It was weried. Hunter wasn't sick. Well, at last Nate didn't know anything about that. He didn't have allergies, he didn't have asthma, never even needed pain killers...

"What if those are like drugs?" Nates heart skipped a beat. It would explain why Hunter wouldn't tell him. Maybe he was ashamed that he was an addict?

No, drugs didn't make any sense. Hunter wouldn't have done that. That's something pretty much impossible to happen.

"Maybe he is sick and doesn't wanna tell me because it's terminal"

Now Nate felt like he was going to puke. What if this was something serious? What if Hunter would-?

Just as he was about to create next 2000 scenarios, Hunter entered the room.

"Crap" Nate gasped "I forgot about the prank!"

He wasn't in the mood for pranks anymore. He was supposed to scare Hunter but..

As Hunter sat on his bed, he called Nate out.

"I can see you, dumbass, you know?"

Nate signed and then slowly opened the closets door and stepped out. His best friend didn't seem very surprised.

"You idio-" The boy began to speak, but stoped mid sentence as he saw what was in his friends hands. He got pale. He became completely paralyzed. He was..

Scared?

Nate didn't understand his expression. Surely, he couldn't have scared him. Hunter saw him. He wasn't as sly as normally. So why would he react this way?

He then looked carefully at his best friends expression. Hunters eyes flickered between Nates face and.. the bottle in his hand.

How could he have forgotten about that?

He looked down into his hand. Finally the light hit the white bottle with few simple blue words written on it.

Remedium Gigantismus.

"Heck of a weried name for a pill" Nate thought before he saw the smaller, English words.

A pill to help control morphing into a giant.

His eyes widden and he gasped.

Gigantismus. That means..

"A giant.." he mumbled under his breath. How was it possible he didn't realize earlier? He looked back at Hunter with wide, confused eyes.

Hunter stared at him looking almost terrified.

"Nate.." Hunters voice was a little shaky and he acted with a lot of caution "Let me-"

"Why the hell do you have those pills?" Nate spoke defensively. It felt surreal. Hunter never behaved like that. He never kept secrets. He most surely wouldn't be a fucking monster.

"Bro, I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner" the other boys brown eyes flickered with shame. He took a step into Nates direction but the shorter, blue-eyed one took a step back. Hunter was visibly shocked and hurt by that.

"What..? What the hell do you mean?" Nate still couldn't get that thought into his head. There had to be a different explanation. Hunter was not a freaking beast. He wasn't a man-eater. He wasn't one of those crazy giants that morph into their true size in the middle of a city to crush buildings, murder people and traumatize thoese who remain alive. Hunter wasn't like the one that did that to Nate.

"Nate, I really wanted to tell you. But after the accident in the gallery..." Right.

It all happened 4 years ago. Nate was in an art gallery with his so called girlfriend. She was his first crush. It was a great experience untill.. Unexpectedly one boy, barely older than them morphed into a giant. He crushed the building completely, walls fell down, floors broke into parts, the rooftop fell on top of many people, crushing them. The beast - the giant looked down at all those humans. He had an evil grin and the demonic stare that Nate still had nightmares of. The giant grabbed people like they were toys, bugs, pests even. He didn't hesitate to murder and eat all humans that he could reach. Hell, he even ate the girl that went out with Nate. Nate would forever remember those giant hands, the beasts stare, the blood flowing down his mouth and hands. Nate only survived because he was under a pile of fallen materials and wasn't visible to the monster. Even though he didn't die, he could still hear the delight in the beasts voice as he enjoyed the consumption of people, which made Nate feel dead inside. After the "accident", as everyone else refered to it, he became suicidal, had nightmares about giants almost every night but most importantly began to hate giants with all his heart. Hell, not only giants. All of those freaking weriedos that change their sizes. His therapist couldn't help him. Noone really could. The accident ruined him mentally and that could not be repaired. But Hunter was by his side after that terrifying, traumatizing experience. He was the only one who understood how much Nate hated thoese freaking monsterous giants and was the only one accepting the fact without telling him that "one situation doesn't define the whole species" or other shit people told him. They were murderers. Giants were murderers. Nothing more.

But now.. even Hunter wasn't on his side.

"Tell me it's not what I think it is" Nate almost begged at this point. He was so angry, so confused and so unbelievably terrified "Tell me you're not a monster!!"

Hunters eyes became glossy, his voice was shaky, he didn't want to lose his best friend "Nate, please.. I got infected 6 years ago. I didn't tell anyone but my parents and doctors. I wanted to.. I wanted to tell you but my parents told me it was a bad idea. And later the accident happened.. I didn't want you to hate me. I didn't want you to fear me" he tried to explain as he was slowly breaking down.

Nate felt his heart beat faster, his breath quickened, his hands trembled as he held the bottle firmly, his mind was filled with thoughts, he couldn't control the growing rage.

"Are you a fucking giant?!" Nate yelled at Hunter, visibly furious and panicked, somehow at the same time. He felt like he was going to puke. His head hurt. And his heart? It stung so freaking bad that he thought he was going to have a heart attack.

Hunter stood there, quiet for a secound before nodding. He looked ashamed. Hurt even. He knew he shouldn't have kept this a secret but let's be honest, if he told Nate would they continue being friends? Obviously no. Hunter just didn't want to lose him. He couldn't even bare the thought..

They both kept quiet for a few seconds, the first thing to break the silence was the sound of the bottle falling down onto the floor.

"How could you..?" The blue-eyed began to speak.

"Nate, please, it doesn't have to change anything-" Hunter spoke even though he didn't believe those words himself. His heart was pounding like crazy. He took two more steps into his best friends direction.

"Get away from me you monster!!" Nate snapped as he took a few steps back, visibly frighten by Hunter.

They have been friends for a freaking decade and now Nate was terrified of him.

Hunter broke down. Tears began to fall down his cheeks. He wasn't a monster.

"Please don't call me that" he whispered as he began to sob and cry louder. Just a secound later he ran off the room and out of the house leaving Nate all alone.

The boy collapsed onto the floor, sitting there stunned, shocked and scared. He couldn't understand the situation. It was unbelievable. How didn't he notice? Was Hunter faking their friendship? Would Hunter hurt him?

No, of course not. That was Hunter. His Hunter.

Nate stood back up and took a deep breath. He tried to regain his composure. His body was reacting before his mind was. He knew, deep down, that even if Hunter was a giant, he would never ever hurt him, but the trauma made him react on instinct, without thinking straight. As soon as Hunter was out of sight it was easy for Nate to feel calmer and regain his thoughts.

"How could I have been so cruel to call him a monster? I fucking made him cry" he thought as he stood up. When the fear began to fade away he realized what he had done. His behavior was unforgivable. Hunter was right about not telling him - Nate didn't take that information well. Hunter had every right to keep this to himself for the sake of their friendship.

"I have to fix this" Nate though as he realised he wouldn't loose his best friend like that. Not becouse he called him names. Not becouse of a sickness. Maybe the could find a way to make it work? He would sure as hell try, becouse Hunter was the most important person in his life.

Being truthful Nate doubted that they could still be best buddies. He wouldn't- couldn't be friends with a giant. But he also couldn't think about it now. It wasn't just a giant, it was Hunter. He needed to find him and apologize to him.

He ran after him, trying to find a direction he suspected the boy would choose. He knew his favorite forest spots and that's exactly where he went.

After almost 40 minutes of looking for Hunter, Nate has found him. He was sitting on a tree branch, sobbing. Nate approached him, fear growing back in his body as well as tention, but he wouldn't give up so easily.

"Hey man.." Nate began to speak. The sudden sound must have startled Hunter because he fell down as he turned around to see who was speaking.

Before he could say anything the earth began to shake and he began to grow.

Nate soon remember what he had learned in health class - strong feelings might cause a size-shifter to morph uncontrollably.

Nate looked up with wide eyes as his best friend was transformed into a 60ish foot tall giant beast.

"N-Nate..?" Hunter mumbled uncertainty as he realised he had grown, looking at his now tiny best friend.

Nope.

Nate turned around and began to run as fast as he could. He wouldn't be cought by a giant.

"Wait, Nate, please!!"

-----------------------

Thank you for reading, sorry it took me so long to update, hope you enjoy a new story! 💙💙

[smallbigworld]

Lightning Ridge - Part One

A young Shifter wanders into a town crawling with hunters, Hendrix plans on laying low but when he catches wind of one particular hunter who is after the same Shifter that he’s been tracking himself, his curiosity gets the better of him. Offering to join the man on his quest he can only hope he can track down the dangerous shifter, saving the lives of innocents all the while keeping his secret hidden.

TW: mentions of murder/eating people, giant spiders, some swearing, mentions of death, mentions of drug use

G/t Shifter story, the idea came from a prompt I read a while back by @maplesyrupandgt. I’ve just come back to writing after recovering from an injury to my writing hand of all things, but I’m back and posting short stories and prompts to get me back in the swing of things. This will be a Four Part Story so keep an eye out for more to come!

Approx 3.2k words

Part One - Here

Part Two

The rain beat down hard on my shoulders and I knew I’d have to stop for the night, my eyes had caught sight of distant light coming from this direction and I had hoped to stumble across a small village in search for cheap accommodation. What I didn’t expect to find however was currently staring at my face menacingly, urging me to turn around and go back the way I’d come.

A sign was posted a few yards from the small village, and it read:

‘GIANT’S BEWARE’

And Another:

‘GIANT SLAYERS WITHIN’

The signs were large enough that any shifter would be able to read it in their Giant forms, what was unnecessary was the graphic image of a shifter having its head cut off by a human that was scrawled under the blocky letters above it.

“Charming” I said to myself.

It was known among shifters that most humans didn’t know that ‘Giants’ as they called us, were not in fact Giant’s at all but a special kind of shape shifter that could grow into their large forms at will, or sometimes against their will. For that reason, I deemed it safe to enter, no one here would know what I was, I’d just have to keep a low profile as always.

My boots trudged heavily through the muddy streets until I found a tavern, the sign out the front told me that there was availability inside, perfect. I pushed open the double wooden doors and was greeted with a waft of warm thick air filled with music, laughter and the smell of smoke and whiskey.

I inhaled deeply, soaking in the pleasant sensations, I’d get a drink once I’d secured a room for the night. I found a coat hanger near the entryway and placed my wet jacket onto it along with my fedora, feeling somewhat warmer and dryer I headed straight for the bar with my best panty dropping grin.

“A straight whisky darlin if you don’t mind?” I asked the young barmaid from behind the counter, she gave me a playful wink while pouring a fresh glass without even looking at it. She slid it across the polished counter to me and leaned over.

“What’s a pretty face like you doing here?” she asked, flicking her long black hair over her shoulder.

“Just passing through” I said casually. “I was hoping I might find some accommodations hereabouts.”

“Well, you need look no further, we have a few spare rooms tonight, just a single?” She asked hopefully, she briefly glanced around to see if I had come in with anyone else.

“Yeah, just a single.”

She handed me a piece of parchment to sign, a guest log, I scribbled a fake name in as I usually did and handed it back to her along with a generous payment, she gave me a set of keys and then asked. “Where are you headed to?”

“Oh no where in particular, I enjoy exploring, I’m a bit of a nomad.” I shrugged, taking another heavy slog of my drink. “Might head toward Lightening Ridge tomorrow.” I said offhandedly.

The man beside me at the bar, scoffed, I hadn’t even noticed him sit down until now, the barmaid and I both looked at him curiously, waiting for an explanation.

“You haven’t heard the rumors?” He asked, looking at us incredulously, his dark hair and darker complexion gave off a mysterious air in the already dim lighting of the tavern, his shaggy hair keeping his face in the shadows expertly.

“That’s Giant territory up that way.” He explained, turning to address us properly.

“Is that so?” I asked, I hadn’t heard of any territory being claimed as ‘Giants Territory’ ever, most of the time shifters mainly lived amongst humans. Of course, there were the rare kind who took advantage of their sheer strength and sought to harm and press their power over others.

One shifter in particular I could think of, we’d crossed paths a few times, I had actually been tracking him for a long time after hearing the first reports of a Giant terrorizing villages. I’d found him about a year ago, warning him of others who were hunting him, I tried to get through to him with reason, but he wasn’t interested in hearing any of it, in fact he very nearly killed me.

I’d kept my distance then but continued to track him for a short while until I lost his trail. It had been months since I’d had any firm leads and I wondered if my instinct taking me this far East had finally paid off. Perhaps he had taken over Lightening Ridge claiming it to be his own.

“What makes you think it’s Giant Territory?” I pressed further.

The young man finished off his drink and indicated that he would like another.

“I’ve been assigned to hunt a Giant living in that area, he’s set up camp there for a while now, many have gone in, but none have ever returned.” he said forebodingly wiggling his fingers for emphasis.

I shivered but not because of the stupid theatrics the man was displaying, but because in all likelihood Blade was killing if not eating the men who had entered ‘His’ Territory and the thought turned my gut to ice.

“Perhaps I could assist you.” I said resolve set, I was sure this was the shifter I’d been after, and I wasn’t going to let him get away again, especially knowing he was now murdering civilians.

The young man laughed loudly but I kept my expression neutral, and his laughter died down to a look of pure disbelief.

“You’re not joking? Are you?” He asked and I shook my head, he gave a heavy sigh. “Look I appreciate the offer, but I generally work alone, besides I don’t wanna get distracted looking after you when I’m trying to slay the beast.” He explained, all good points.

“I’m a hunter as well.” I lied. “I actually know of the beast your after, been on his tail for months, I think I could prove useful.”

He gave me a skeptical look; I was sure he was going to turn me down again and then I’d move to plan B which would be tailing this man in order to find Blade, but he held out a hand instead.

“You don’t get in my way.” He said sternly. “When we find the beast, it’s every man for himself, I wont risk my neck to save your ass if you do something stupid, you hear?”

I couldn’t help the smile edging onto my face, and I grasped his hand.

“Deal.” I said, so much for keeping a low profile.

“The names Ryder, I’ll meet you down here an hour before sunrise.” He said stiffly before rising from his chair, intending to head in for the night.

“Hendrix.” I answered honestly. “I’ll be here.” He gave me a curt nod before heading up the stairs to the Tavern’s rooms.

“Boy you do have a death wish.” The barmaid was shaking her head whilst cleaning a glass. I gave her a small shrug before heading up the stairs myself, and I wondered if the barmaid had noted that the name I put on the guest log, was not the name I’d given to Ryder. I supposed it didn’t matter, in all likely hood we’d leave before anyone else arose the next morning and I’d never see her again.

With that I hunkered down onto the small cot within my room and urged my racing thoughts to quieten, though regardless of my efforts my excitement at having finally got a lead was too much to give me a good night’s sleep and morning came all too quickly.

I rolled out of bed and stretched my aching limbs, sleeping on a different surface every night didn’t bode well for my back. I wandered to the bathroom and splashed some water on my face briefly glancing my disheveled appearance in the mirror. Ryder had been right to worry that I wouldn’t be useful in a fight, where he was toned, I was more malnourished with my poor muscles trying desperately to make themselves known.

My dark blue eyes popped against my freckle-stained face where my cheek and jaw bones jutted out. I wasn’t much of a fighter, more a survivalist, but I had been training since my last meeting with Blade and I was confident I’d be able to take him this time.

I brushed my fingers through my shoulder length sandy blonde hair and pushed away from the sink, I’d guessed it was about an hour before sunrise now and if I didn’t get a move on, Ryder would likely leave without me. I slung my satchel containing my meager belongings across my chest and headed down the stairs.

“Ah there he is, I was thinking you might have come to your senses overnight.” Ryder joked, putting on his own hat and jacket, ready to head out the door.

“Not a chance.” I smiled, and followed him outside, the air was fresh and held the sharp bite of winter closing in, I longed to be back inside the warm tavern, but I also wasn’t about to pass up this opportunity, especially if I could put an end to Blade’s rampage once and for all.

It was bad enough that he was putting the identity of our kind at risk but using his power to harm others was something I just couldn’t stand for.

I followed Ryder as we headed further east, following signs for Lightening Ridge, it was approximately 200kml away from SheerWood, the village we had just come from, and would be about a three or four day walk with minimal stops.

“So, tell me a bit about yourself Hendrix.” Ryder asked, the sun was beginning to rise, and we had walked in mostly comfortable silence until that point, I had gathered that he preferred not to grow attached to his travelling companion in case he died once we faced the shifter, his question caught me off guard.

“There’s not much to tell really.” I shrugged, preparing to spin off the usual story I give people. “I’m a nomad, I travel all over, got no family to hold me down so I’m just out exploring really.”

“Bullshit, you’ve been tailing a Giant for peats sake, there is more to you than just drifting with the wind.”

I bit my lip, I hadn’t really thought that one through, I’d forgotten that I’d told him I was a hunter back in the tavern.

“Well, you know I pick up a few hunting jobs here and there as a travel through, no big story, sorry to disappoint.” I covered quickly, it wasn’t an unheard-of story and totally credible if I do say so myself.

He didn’t seem convinced, but he also didn’t seem frustrated at all, like he understood that not everything was okay to be shared with a total stranger.

“Well, I suppose I’m much the same as you, grew up in a small town and as soon as I was able, I up and left, took up hunting jobs and make my living that way, I must say it’s not a bad way to see the country.” He glanced at the surrounding forest appreciatively.

“Do you have any family?” I asked trying to continue to keep the topic on him.

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen them in years, they live way out west in the desert, my mum, dad and sister, as far as I know Kailani is still there tending to the farm with them, farm life just wasn’t for me you know?”

I nodded, the lifestyle had never interested me either, come to think of it I wasn’t really sure what kind of lifestyle called to me. I supposed travelling and exploring the country was okay, but the thought of settling down somewhere was intriguing, even if it was an impossibility for me.

“What’s Kailani like?” I asked, my mind wandered to my own little sister, she’d been only five years old when I left home, when my abilities had made themselves known.

“She’s kind.” He said wistfully. “She was always very reserved, especially around our parents, she was never shy about giving me a hard time though.” He chuckled at a memory playing over in his mind. “Last I heard she was seeing a fella, she’d make a good wife, I just hope she’s happy.”

“I suppose that’s all any of us can ask for.” I said quietly, hoping the same was true about Ella.

A twig snapped to our left and we both paused, Ryder held up a scarred hand indicating for me to keep quiet. I scanned the area, but I couldn’t see much of anything off the trail, the forest on either side of us was dense with underbrush.

After a few moments I was going to tap Ryder on the shoulder and suggest we keep going, it was probably just an animal skirting too close to the trails, that’s when we heard a soft hiss disturb the silence around us. And that was all the warning we got before the large Arachnid made itself known, its many eyes flickering like embers in the dense forest and its large hairy legs moving faster than they should have been able to.

“Duck!” Ryder shouted, I was going to question why I would do such a thing, and to instead suggest we run but I crouched low to the ground anyway and narrowly missed a projectile of sticky silk that was shot toward us. Ryder had rolled out of the way and brandished his sword, crouching in a fighting stance and ready to leap at the thing.

I dug in my pockets for my dagger, and then realized it was woefully too small to fight a creature this large. Of course, normally when I encountered giant spiders in the forest, I was much bigger and would simply crush the creature with the heel of my boot, I’d never thought I needed a larger weapon when I was usually the largest creature around.

Of course I couldn’t grow right now, not with a hunter standing right there, I rolled as the creature made a move toward me and I narrowly avoided one of its sharp claw-like legs from spearing me through the middle. I watched as Ryder pounced on top of the thing, using his sword to strike at the Arachnids thick exoskeleton.

The spider seemed to pay him not mind, not finding his efforts of any concern at all and instead kept on moving toward me, the spider positioned itself over me and spat more sticky silk covering my left hand and pinning it to the ground. My breath hitched and I felt myself expand a few inches, breaking my hand free of the sticky substance.

I focused on stopping the growing energy within my body, reining it in for now. I wasn’t about to die at the mercy of an insect.

The spiders’ pincers sliced awfully close to my neck, and I jerked my body upwards pushing the heels of my boots into the spider’s face.

With only a second to make the most of my distraction I backpaddled on my hands and knees crawling under the spider and then out into the open. I dug in my bag frantically and pulled out what I hoped might do the trick, tearing off a part of my sleeve, I picked up a stick nearby and wrapped my shirt around it.

The spider had its eyes on me again and let out another hiss, I doused the cloth in whiskey and then struck a match, creating a large fire stick that I brandished at the spider. It threw its body backwards showing off its front legs in a display of aggression and in doing so threw Ryder from its back, he landed in a heap dropping his sword a short distance away from him.

With the flaming stick in one hand, I inched closer to Ryder’s sword, causing the spider to back up further.

“Ryder!” I shouted kicking the sword toward him, he got the hint grasped the sword and then stood directly underneath the beast. I backed up and as the spider came down Ryder expertly placed the sword between the spider’s thorax and abdomen and then it went limp, its body falling heavily on top of Ryder.

I concentrated and allowed myself to grow only a little, just enough so that I would be strong enough to push the beast off of Ryder, with a grunt of effort I rolled the spider off of him. Ryder lay there breathing heavily, his whole body covered in unidentifiable spider guck, I focused on my own breathing shrinking down to an acceptable height though my body protested.

“You look like hell.” I stated, holding out a hand for him. He grasped it with a slimy hand of his own and I cringed a little at the sickening feeling.

“I’d look a lot worse if it hadn’t of been for you.” He said completely awe struck, he walked over to reclaim his sword from the spider’s belly and then looked over at me, his hazel eyes flashing.

“That was some quick thinking back there.” He said, voice still laced with amazement. “I mean, after seeing you brandish a dagger of all things, I had my doubts, but… that was something else.”

I brushed it off, throwing the fire stick on the ground and stamping it out before putting my matches and flask back into my satchel.

“I work well under pressure.” I shrugged, and his eyebrows reached the sky.

“I’ll say.” He said clapping me on the back. “In any case, well done lad.”

I chuckled nervously and followed him as we continued down the trail. Thankful that I had made it out of my first encounter with an aggressive creature and lived to tell the tale, secret still intact.

“Ha, that’s funny…” He started, looking me up and down as I caught up walking briskly beside him.

“What’s funny? That I’ve only got a dagger to defend myself with? Yeah I know the truth is I lost-“

“No, not that.” He cut me off. “I just could have sworn I was taller than you.”

PART TWO

[smallbigworld]

Masterpost

Hi, my name is Kix, and this is my masterpost! You find more of me here on my LinkyTree! And commissions are OPEN

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[smallbigworld]

A once cruel god. G/t short story 1/??

Pt2

"Hey, where are you going? Don't leave! I was joking!" The god yelled as they watched the tiny human try to drag themselves in the opposite direction as fast as they could. Damn it, why did he have to do that?! Why did he have to ruin the moment?!

They quickly grabbed ahold of the human, trying to be ever so gentle and not harm them like they had done so carelessly before. They felt the human flinch and struggle, and their tears streamed down their cheeks endlessly while they repeat the same sentences over and over again.

"Please let me go, I've earned my freedom, I don't want to go back! Please, please, please!" They begged between sobs. It made the young God feel so uneasy now that he could understand the human language... this is what they had been saying all this time? He remembers laughing when hearing these silly little words, unaware of their meaning, and how cruel he used to play with the humans... this particular one somehow managed to survive. Despite the young gods' favoritism, he had made this little human life torture from a young age... the young God had fallen for this particular human, but it didn't mean that they had it any easier, they watched their own kind get crushed, tipped apart, eaten, and given false hope and promises... and on top of all that they had to pretend to be head over heals for the giant in order for their life to be safe, despite all the torture they endured...

The human was a frail figure, misting a lower arm and both their legs. These were the young gods' doings. There was no mistaking it...

"My flower..." the God spoke in a sad, soft voice, they watched the humans face drain of any color and their body begin so tremble uncontrollably, hearing that name again... that alone was enough to make the human have a panic attack. "No, no! No! Nonononono, you promised it was over! You promised I could go!" That was right. The young god didn't usually grace their "toys" with freedom when he got bored playing with them, but this human got a right to leave for exactly this reason... so that he could find them all these years later... and understand them... he had done so with several other humans, and all yielded the same results... horror, shock, begging, and even ending their own lives and those of their families in order to not have ANGYONE go through what they did...

"My flower.." he repeated again carefully. They wish they had bothered to learn the humans name before, and despite all that had happened he hated to admit how hid heart fluttered seeing this human again, even after all this torture, they were still so beautiful... the humans attempts to ruin their face had been for nothing, large gashes all over made them almost unrecognizable, yet they immediately began sobbing louder when they saw that distinctive pink hue on the gods cheeks. "I'm not your fucking flower!! I'm not! I'm not!!"

The harsh words made the God flinch. "Wait - wait, no- I, w-what do I call you? What is your name? I won't call you that ever again, please don't cry." they beg, that right, a God, begging a former human toy for something more comfortable to call them... that was almost impossible, only in a humans wildest dreams would they be treated like such...

The human went silent, expecting this to be some cruel trick for speaking so unfaithfully to an all mighty God... meanwhile, the young god sat in anticipation to hear anything that could resemble a name. Nothing, hours of silence went by without either saying anything at all, judt heavy breathing as a result of the humans panic attack.

The God eventually got tired of waiting and asked calmly again, "What is your name..?" To which the human flinched once more, was this a trick question? "F-flower, my lord..." they said with their head down. "No, I'm asking what your real name is, not the one I gave you..." the human kept their eyes glued to the palm of the gods hand. "I... I don't know my lord..." they lied, not wanting the God to tarnish their name by hearing them speak it. The young God frowned and tried to catch a glimpse of the humans eyes.

"You don't..? Do you even have a name?" The human never replied. "W-would you like a name?" He asks "I promise it'll be a nice one, then you won't be nameless anymore " they say with a hopeful smile.

The human feels sick to their stomach but nods slowly. "It would be an honor..." No, it wouldn't... it's a curse in disguise. If the human used the name the God gave him , then God would be able to locate him wherever he went... "What about Amber..? Do you like that name?". "It's a wonderful name, my lord..." they spoke while gritting their teeth. They once had a name before they were reduced to a mere spoiled brats favorite toy. Now it feels like it's happening all over again, but the god is pretending to have sympathy... but the human knew what kind of a monster this god could be...

"Do you still remember my name?" The god asks softly. How could the human forget? They literally carved their name into the humans' skin. "V-Vic-" they got sick before they could properly pronounce his name, a sure-fire way to get yourself into a heap of trouble, "Amber" stared at the sick on the gods hand and quickly attempted to clean it with what little clothing thry had on thier body "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I'm so ashamed, please forgive me-" they were cut off by them being carefully lifted into their other hand the god looked concerned, "Are you okay? Don't be scared, it's alright. " they spoke in the most sincere voice, which only worried the human more. What would they be punished with?? What was he going to do with them??

[smallbigworld]

The Rescue - Chp 58 - The Shifting Dynamic || The Stranding - Chp 76 - Just Trying To Come Clean

Happy New Year everyone!!

Got a lovely double feature to rock out the year with, I hope you enjoy!

See you all in 2025!

[smallbigworld]

Beanstalk Chapter One

I've never played Fable, but the trailer filled with great G/T vibes sparked my interest to write a story based on the characters, Dave the vegetable enthusiast, and the hero of the story (who I named Rory). I've always wanted to write a fairytale, jack and the beanstalk type story and this just clicked it all together!

It's now a completed story with ongoing shorts being written! I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed writing it!

Chapter 2 , Chapter 3

Chapter One

            The earth had shaken the entire village with its rumbling, they had told her, as she sat with a tankard of ale that night at the local (and only) bar and inn. Once they realized she was a Jack, the townsfolk fell over themselves to tell her the tale. A giant beanstalk-like plant had spontaneously sprouted out of the earth, miles away, through the other side of the forest – but it was so large that the earthquake that occurred at its growth still reached them in their homes. The cobblestone paths were left cracked and humped, and cottages sat askew. Though the earthquake had passed, they were still afraid of it. Not the plant itself – but of what could climb down.

            Now with the next day’s early morning sun rays gently lighting up the sky, Rory broke out of the forest and into a clearing, stopping short as her gaze immediately landed on the forementioned beanstalk. You couldn’t miss it.

Normally she had to be wary of embellishments in fireside tales, but there was no embellishment here. The giant beanstalk’s base was so wide that ten men could circle it but still not touch hands. The rest of its heavy, leaf-laden stalk circled up so impossibly high it disappeared above the lower cloud cover.

It looked like an impossibility in the middle of the meadow.

It looked exactly like the kind of thing she’d been searching for.

Rory adjusted the sword at her back, making sure the straps were tight. If it were to slip lose as she climbed, she’d have no way to fix it, and she didn’t want to imagine facing whatever was up there empty handed.

The closer she got to the stalk, the more impossibly large it became. She was glad she’d eaten a hearty meal before leaving the inn, she needed every bit of her strength for this.

With one last glance around at the peaceful meadow, Rory made her ascent.

Finally, with what felt like days but was most likely only hours, Rory threw herself off of the beanstalk in the sky and tumble onto… Earth?

She pushed herself up to her knees with wobbly arms, scraping her dark blonde hair off her sweaty forehead. Pieces of the ponytail had escaped despite how tight she had tied it back, and her entire body was now coated in sweat, especially down her back where her sword remained strapped. Despite wanting to address her aches and pains, Rory’s trained gaze took in the grassy meadow she’d fallen onto, the clouds above, a forest of strange trees on her left, and grass ahead that stood so tall it would tower above her head even when she stood.

Giant grass. She grimaced, trying not to picture what size other things on this land were if the grass itself freaked her out.

“I’m not freaked out,” she tried assuring herself. “I’m a fierce and noble hero. I’ve defeated horrifying beasts of legend, I’m not afraid of tall grass.” But the weight in the pit of her stomach grew heavier with dread.

She was a little afraid of the tall grass.

“Pull yourself together,” Rory muttered, rolling her eyes as she pressed off her knees to come to a shaky stand. “Find the source of the beanstalk. Find the girl. Get paid.” She brushed dirt off the knees of her trousers but paused, reconsidering. “I mean – be fulfilled from doing a good deed… But then still get paid.”

Plan in mind, Rory began the long trek through the forest of grass toward what she hoped was the right direction. The shapes on the left that she’d assumed were a normal crop of trees at first assessment actually appeared to be an impossibly ginormous vegetable garden. Pumpkins and cucumbers, beans and peppers – they all could flatten a house at their size.

Speaking of houses – Rory’s steps faltered as this one came into view. Or rather, it obscured her view. It was a cottage, which could’ve been described as quaint if it wasn’t so terrifying. She came to a stop at the front door, craning her head back to try to take in the entire scope of it, but gave up once a headache started to throb at her temples. It was wooden, with metal hinges and door handle that looked well-oiled and maintained. Opening it would be an impossibility.

Biting the inside of her lip, she scanned the bottom of the door, looking for a way in.

Her eyebrows rose as she spotted a splintered crack at the bottom, barely noticeable on the large frame but just the perfect size for her to squeeze through. Taking in a deep breath and releasing it, Rory lowered her head and crept through the crack.

The way the inside of the cottage opened up before her made her head spin instantly, and she leaned against the back of the door to get her bearings. The tall grass and insane garden had been one thing, but this – this cottage! Everything looked like what you’d expect in a cottage kitchen – pots and dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, a kettle off on the counter, a humble wooden table and chairs neatly pushed into place – but hundreds times the size. The ceiling of the thatched roof rose so far above her she almost couldn’t see it, and the rest of the room yawned before her, shocking her to her core.

Her hands fumbled to check the sword at her back one more time, trying to steady her nerves with its familiar shape. But it didn’t bring her comfort this time, not while she stood surrounded by things that towered over her like this, completely in a foreign land.

With a quick shake of her head, Rory tried to pull herself together again. She didn’t want to be around when the thing that lived here returned. One part of her was a little surprised that a Giant would have a home such as this. She’d expected a cold, damp cave in a mountainside, with bristling bones scattering across the stone floor, human and animal alike – not this quaint, somewhat cozy-looking home with the scent of – was that lavender she smelled? – yeah, she definitely hadn’t expected to be smelling lavender in a Giant monster’s hideout.

“The girl. Find the girl.” Her whisper fell dead in the still air, the expanse of the room swallowing up her small voice. Pushing her fear aside, she made her way to the counter to the right of the kitchen, keeping to the edge of the walls so she didn’t have to cross into the wide-open space of the cobble-stone floor.

‘If I were a giant beast, where would I put a little girl?’ she thought as stopped below the counters, peering up the way they stretched above. Maybe up there. But that required more climbing. Holding back a groan, she started up again.

When she finally reached the top of the counter, she paused to take in the rest of the room. Now that it wasn’t towering above her, things looked a little less scary. But still scary enough to keep her heart thudding heavily in her chest. Unless that was from all the climbing.

Probably both.

Glass jars of dried foods and herbs crowded the countertop in a sporadic but still organized manner. Rory wondered if the girl was being held captive in one of these jars and shuddered at that image. She had to find her, and quickly. It had already been four days since her parents had begged Rory to find her, and the creature had a head start. It took someone her size- a perfectly normal size mind you - a little bit longer to travel than a monster with giant feet.

Lost in thought, Rory almost didn’t feel the first light tremor. The second one shook the counter slightly and reverberated up her legs. She unsheathed her sword by the third, palm already slickening with sweat from fear, and rushed to hide behind one of the glass jars.

The Giant had arrived.

[smallbigworld]

me holding a gun to a mushroom: tell me the name of god you fungal piece of shit

mushroom: can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? the fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in a way that matters

me cocking the gun, tears streaming down my face: I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU