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afraidparade · 2 months ago

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"Violet Hyacinths"

(hi surprise bozo i decided to render this sketch and then also write an entire accompanying piece because. i love ghostswap and i love pathetic human pazu)

Characters: Theo & Pazu (Ghostswap AU) Word count: 5,233 Genre: G/t, Hurt/comfort, Angst Content warnings: Suicidal ideation, depicitions of CPTSD, abusive behavior

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Theo gazed in wonderment at the tremendous spread of flora covering the entirety of the table before him. Granted, at his size, everything seemed tremendous by comparison, but he assumed that the quantity and variety would surely be impressive to even a normal-sized human. Leisurely drifting between each specimen, he inspected them curiously. It was rare of him to be afforded alone time these days — Pazu usually demanded his accompaniment wherever he went, though dismissed him today, muttering something about “not wanting to be nagged when he was already in a bad mood” on his way to class — so the little specter drank in the tranquility while he could.

He briefly considered the irony of this moment he considered a respite, seeing as his existence up to this point had been so profoundly solitary, it had nearly driven him mad. Luck would have it that the only being – living or dead – on Earth that could actually understand him would take a discomforting amount of pleasure in seeing him suffer, but…beggars couldn’t be choosers, Theo supposed. And besides, it wasn’t all for nothing! Pazu had promised to exorcise him and finally set his weary soul free from this mortal plane. That willingness to help… eventually…meant that he had at least an ounce of goodness in the depths of his soul, right? So being the subject of a young man’s twisted whims in the meantime didn’t seem so bad compared to an eternity of loneliness. Sometimes. Usually.

A faint smile rose to Theo’s face as he hovered closer to a personal favorite of his. Several long stalks sat in a plain glass vase, each bursting at their peaks into concentrated puffs of small flowers with curved, pointed petals. To the best of his ability, he cupped one of the blossoms in his hands, though he only felt the faintest coolness of resistance as his palms phased through the corporeal object. At his diminutive size, just one of the small blossoms seemed about as big as he was. And though he lacked the lungs to inhale or the senses to smell, he mimicked the motion anyways. It was an act of hollow nostalgia for memories he didn’t possess, though it was nice to believe that he had done this in the life he must have once lived.

Recalling the names and attributes of all the floral species was difficult – especially when Pazu refused to share that information, as he seemed to interpret any pondering question from the ghost as some insurmountable burden not worthy of his precious time. But he recalled this one, as it was one that Pazu had finally relented to talking about after a long bout of nagging insistence: the hyacinth. Such a lovely name for such a lovely flower, he’d thought. And the dusty violet hue of this particular bloom was simply ethereal, though Theo sheepishly recognized that this could have been the effects of a personal bias, as he seemed to take on a spectrum of blues and purples within his own wispy form. He’d made his affections for the flower known at one point, to which he was met with a scoff and an, “I don’t see why. The scent gives me migraines, and the clusters are an eyesore.” Yet they remained a repeating staple in Pazu’s florism hobby, so perhaps he’d simply felt contrarian at the time.

As if on cue, Theo could hear the soft clunking of keys fidgeting with the main entrance, the swift opening swing of the dormitory door, and the even swifter slam that followed. The little wisp shot back from the object of his admiration rapidly, all too aware that Pazu would kill him (well, in a manner of speaking) if he was caught touching anything of value to the human. He’d expected to see the raven-haired man appear around the corner at any second, possibly with a narrowed, scrutinous gaze, already suspecting Theo of messing with his personal projects. Or perhaps with a mischievous smirk, all too eager to delve into yet another and all too hands-on “exorcism experiment.” Neither appeared. Nothing appeared. Come to think of it, had there even been any sounds at all since the calamitous abuse of the dormitory door? There certainly hadn’t been any footsteps, so perhaps Pazu had…opened the door, realized he’d forgotten something, and then left again?

Just as this reasoning began sounding like a solid theory in the ghost’s mind, a quiet noise from the small entryway caught his attention. From his current angle, it was beyond his line of sight, but it had sounded like…breathing? Or, maybe choking? Concern spiked within the little apparition’s spectral heart, prompting him to approach the wall corner that obstructed his view of the door.

“Er…Pazu? Is that you?” Theo called softly, words heavied by trepidation. In lieu of a verbal response, there were more of those muffled little noises, more noticeable now with the closer proximity, and increasing in sporadic frequency. This did little to assuage the specter’s worries, so he resolved to quicken his advance toward the entryway until he breached the border of his obstruction. He tried again, “Pazu?”

Well, it was certainly Pazu. Theo would be lying if he said he hadn’t, for a moment, thought that perhaps an intruder had broken in. But beyond recognizing the figure hunched against the back of the door, his understanding of the situation ended there. Opting for black clothes as he so often did, and with a fluffy tangle of short jet waves, Pazu’s crouched form resembled some sort of shambling shadow of a puddle, as he seemed to have taken up residence in a corner of the floor. Two bony hands clenched fiercely against his head — one grasping at the hair above his temple, the other clawing against the flesh of his face — and the only eye visible from within the dark mess of shadows and limbs and hair was blown wide, staring feverishly, unblinkingly, downwards into nothing.

Then Theo realized what the sounds he’d heard before were. ‘Breathing’ might not have been the proper term; they were more so airy spasms than they were proper breaths, wet and wheezing and incomplete. They wracked Pazu’s entire bundled frame, which, for the first time, appeared awfully small to the stunned ghost floating above.

For a long moment, Theo was stunned into silence. In the weeks (Months? His concept of time had eroded long ago) that he’d known Pazu, he’d known a collected, calculated, and confident force of better-than-you bitterness. And, sure, maybe he was prone to the occasional fits of awkwardness or a childish tantrum, but certainly not…this. It would have almost seemed dream-like in its absurdity, if only ghosts could dream. Thus, Theo forced himself to accept this disquieting sight as reality, pushed his apprehension as far down as it would go, and wafted cautiously into the entryway.

“Pazu! What- what happened to you?” Theo fretted, lowering himself to be within the trembling figure’s field of view. There was no reaction or intelligible response from the other, though it did seem for a moment as though Pazu had been attempting to quietly sound out words between fits of hyperventilation. His knees were tucked all the way up to his nose, subduing the already voiceless whimpers and blocking any attempt Theo could make at reading lips, but he swore he could make out a strained:

“Do… Doh… Don’t… Don’t…”

The worry on Theo’s features deepened as he began to wave an arm around, attempting again to catch the human’s attention. “Hey, come on! This isn’t like you, just…calm down and tell me what happened, okay?”

Still nothing. It had become a habit of Theo’s to hover just out of arm’s reach from Pazu, given the other’s tendency to pluck him out of the air and reduce his existence to a stress toy whenever he got bored. Now wasn’t the time to be wary of such impulses, though. The wisp inched closer, lacing his fingers together nervously as he approached the despondent giant.

“Did something happen?” he chanced the gentle query, only to be met with more formless whispers that remained void of any recognition.

Theo swallowed, then tried again.

“Did someone…hurt you?”

As if shocked back into reality, Pazu’s form went rigid and his visible eye shifted into alarmed focus, pinning itself on Theo in an instant. The ghost tensed reflexively, but no hand darted out to grab him this time. Instead, the noirette’s face scrunched into a vitriolic grimace at the sight of the other, before burying itself completely into a cradle of folded arms and tucked knees.

“Go away,” was all he muttered, but the bite of his words was choked away by a tightness in his throat, giving his voice an uneven half-spoken-half-whispered quality. Theo faltered, but didn’t comply with the command. Certainly, Pazu’s flaws were innumerable — and often intolerable — but goodness, Theo didn’t hate him. Leaving him in this state simply wasn’t an option, nor something he considered even briefly. Pazu’s hiccuping gasps still rattled the entirety of his thin frame, and despite him obscuring his face, his frantic partial sobs were still audible. Though this side of his personal tormentor was unfamiliar and confounding to him, Theo had already decided that this wasn’t something he could turn away from.

The little ghost steeled his resolve and pressed further. “I- I’m sorry. I know I’m probably not who you want to see right now. I mean, another human would probably be, ehm, better equipped to handle something like this, right? But I—“

“Go. Away,” Pazu repeated, louder, sharper, through gritted teeth. It appeared as though forcing out the warning took a great deal of strength from the hunched man, as his tremors intensified immediately after. Like a performer who’d been balancing on stilts for a terribly long time and, after straining to maintain a proper posture for so long, now teetered and trembled in a desperate attempt to keep from tumbling to the ground. “Just piss off. I don’t care where. Leave me alone and quit being a pest.”

Theo’s brows creased at the stinging words, but they did little to dissuade him. He reconsidered his approach for a moment. Right, less rambling this time. Straight to the point.

“I don’t want to leave you here,” his small voice affirmed decisively. The hiss of a sharp inhale came from the shambling mass of shadows, knuckles paling as he clawed harder at his scalp. Theo was close to him now, just inches from the twitching forearm that clamped his body tightly together. He reached a translucent hand outwards, unsure if the touch would soothe his living companion at all, but determined to try. Shifting to a gentler tone, Theo continued, “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, and maybe a dull little ghost like me won’t be able to understand it. But if you try opening up about it, well…maybe I could help in some way! If you just tell me what happened–”

And that’s when the clamp came undone, limbs unfurling explosively and swinging outward. Whether or not Pazu actually meant to strike Theo was debatable, but he had regardless, and with no small amount of force.

“Nothing happened!” he roared in a cracking retort, “Is that what you want to hear? Will that make you leave me the fuck alone?! Nothing! Literally, in every sense of the word, nothing happened!”

It took the dazed ghost several moments to reorient himself; he’d tumbled backwards through the air with a yelp once Pazu had swatted at him, colliding with the nearby wall at a momentum that was too great for him to pass through it. He hovered limply as he bade the world around him to stop spinning and shook his head in hopes of rattling his senses back into place. They did, eventually, and Theo was able to properly see the entirely foreign expression on the human’s face clearly now. His bloodshot eyes were wide and aimless, glistening with the remnants of tears that were now smudged in every direction across his cheeks. His jaw clenched into a trembling snarl, as if the words he’d spat were so unpalatable to him that they’d made his bile rise, and reddish streaks and indents burned angrily against the dark skin that he’d evidently been gripping rather fiercely.

“It was only a noise! Some vibrations in the air as someone dropped a— something, I don’t know! And that’s all it took for my stupid brain to produce some stupid chemical and activate some stupid instinct, and now I— I’m…!” His eyes welled up as the words died in his throat, and he gagged against them, before puling, “It’s all so stupid! It’s all nothing!”

“H-hey, woah! Whatever you’re feeling clearly isn’t ’nothing,’ Pazu!” Theo redoubled his efforts to reason with the student, already closing the distance that Pazu had created, “It’s okay to…to feel things, you know? I’m sure it doesn’t feel okay right this second, but if you’re sad, or angry, or scared, then—“

“Would you FUCK OFF already?!” Pazu shrieked the interruption as his hand scrabbled for whatever was closest to him — in this case, the phone that had tumbled out of his pocket — and in the same motion, hurled it with terrifying accuracy at the tiny specter. The projectile phased through his airy form (Thank the heavens, Theo prayed inwardly), but he flinched at the attack all the same, cringing doubly as he heard it smash against something delicate in its collision. He chanced a brief glance behind him to survey the damage, allowing a crestfallen breath to escape him at the sight of broken glass, a growing puddle, and a tangle of stems and damaged petals on the ground. For all the disdain Pazu seemed to harness regularly for just about anything and everything good in the world, his flowers maintained the privilege of being the only things he showed excessive care and tenderness for. Yet the calamitous shatter seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever. Perhaps he hadn’t even noticed it.

“Spouting all this asinine therapy-speak like you even care. Hah…ahah! I know you hate me!” Pazu’s voice had taken on a quavering mania as he chattered between rapid, uneven breaths, “And why wouldn’t you, right? Dug this grave my own damn self, right? Bet you enjoy seeing me writhe like some pathetic little insect, right?!”

“Pazu—!!”

“Everyone hates me, and everyone should. Hah, it’s— it’s so much better this way. The only reason anyone wants me around is to use me, but oh, oops! Turns out they can’t be bothered to put up with the ‘me’ they’re using. And you’re just like them, you know? U-using me just because I’m the only one you CAN use. Hah! It’s funny, isn’t it? A damn comedy! I genuinely can’t tell which of us got the worse deal out of all this, and you’re dead!”

His shoulders shuddered then, a sob at first. But when they persisted along with arhythmic puffs and wheezes, Theo realized that he had begun a strained, hybrid process of something between laughing and crying.

“And that’s the fucked up thing!” Pazu continued, voice fraught with a manic desperation, “I think about it sometimes. How much I envy you. How much simpler it would all be if I were dead. No need to try and play the same stupid, useless game as everyone else. None of those horrible, pesky memories to bog you down. Nothing to tie you to any responsibilities. Just…floating, free and alone.”

He sniffled then, an ugly sound. “World’d probably be better off if I were a ghost instead. Not like anyone actually wants me around.”

There was a heavy pause. Theo’s hands clenched unsurely, measuring his next words with considerable trepidation, and Pazu kept his gaze lowered and obscured.

“…Pazu—“

“Shut up. I’m not actually about to kill myself.”

“What? No, I wasn’t— I mean, that’s good, of course! But…” he dared to inch closer then, drifting forward while the other consciously averted his gaze. The spirit sighed, abandoning his jumbled words and starting again, “Look, I know you’re not particularly keen on taking my advice. And it’s not that I can blame you — I, ah, don’t exactly have lived experience to draw back on — but regardless. Please at least listen when I say this.”

“Once you’re dead, that’s all there is. You’ve no future, no potential for change. Being a ghost isn’t some sort of grand ‘round two’ where you get to try everything over again, Pazu. It’s…perpetuity. Stagnation. Regret you can never, ever act on. But– but being alive!” Theo’s face lit up in a weary smile, as if suddenly realizing his somber tone may be resulting in the opposite of his intended effect, “Being alive means always having the opportunity to strive for something better. To change, and to grow!”

“And look, I can’t possibly know what you’re going through right now, or understand what you…might have been through before…a-and it’s not my intention to pry. But as long as you’re alive, you’ll always have the promise of waking up to a brand new day. Ah…this all probably doesn’t mean much coming from a dead guy, huh?” he added with a sheepish chuckle, “I guess I just…I want you to know that I’m here. And I may not say the right things, but you can always talk to me if something is troubling you, okay?”

Pazu huffed, lifting his reddened gaze again with an almost insulted incredulity. “‘Always?’ Don’t patronize me. The only reason you’re still with me is to ultimately get away from me. I’m not an idiot. I don’t need your conditional altruism.”

Theo smiled sadly. That wasn’t something he could deny, and they both knew it. “That…is the arrangement, yes,” he spoke slowly, measuring his words with great care, “I’m not supposed to exist as I am now in the first place, and I get the feeling I shouldn’t stay. But today — right here, right now — I am here. And if you only focus on a future you’ve already decided is empty, you’ll never realize what’s here with you in your ‘now.’ You’re not alone, Pazu.”

He drifted closer, trying again to reach out a small, wispy hand. “You don’t have to be alone.”

“Touch me and I swear I’ll find a way to kill you a second time.”

The threat felt tired, and lacked any real bite.

“I think I’ll take my chances.”

Theo rested his palms softly against the other’s face. Despite his verbal reluctance, Pazu didn’t stop him. It was strange, the wisp thought; every other corporeal object felt like near nothing. Tangible static, at most. Maybe it was due to the mysterious paranormal abilities the human possessed, but Theo could actually feel him at the touch. He was warm — a rather foreign sensation to the lifeless wisp at this point— and though it seemed that he’d regained most of his senses, Theo could feel the aftershocks of a full-body tremble beneath his palms every so often.

Admittedly, the disparity in size and power between the two had made Pazu out to be some omnipotent giant in Theo’s mind. This entire time, he had merely been subjected to the whim of hands larger than the entirety of his spectral form, and any attempts at reasoning with him were either sneered at or flat-out ignored. In this moment of vulnerability, though, any trace of that looming threat seemed wholly nullified. For the first time in Theo’s existence, Pazu was just a normal human.

It was a strange thing, trying to cradle the face of someone a hundred times larger than oneself. The best Theo could manage was resting his hands against either side of the bridge of Pazu’s nose, tracing calm circles occasionally, and even daring to touch his own forehead to the other’s. He could feel a piercing glare affixed to him — bloodshot, glistening, and swirling with emotions Theo couldn’t understand — but he elected to ignore this, closing his own eyes instead and focusing on his efforts to subdue his volatile counterpart.

“I’ll leave when the time is right, Pazu. But for now, I’m here with you. And regardless of what you believe my motives are or how you think I regard you, I don’t want to see you hurting. You don’t deserve this,” he soothed. Pazu clenched his jaw, but didn’t respond. “You’ll get through this. I know you can. Just take some deep breaths and try to relax yourself, okay?”

There was a prolonged pause — perhaps an inward battle as Pazu debated how petulant he was willing to be in that exact moment — before he eventually relented and reluctantly followed the specter’s instructions. He breathed against his palm, still clasping at his face, and continued until ragged gasps eased into slow, tired puffs. His shoulders dropped slowly as Theo continued to calm him, and a sobered exhaustion eventually replaced the manic vitriol in his features.

It was quiet. It was over. And neither seemed to know what happened next.

It was after several moments of this peaceful uncertainty that Theo could hear the rustling of movement, and could subsequently feel a warmth against his back, delicate at first. A glance over his shoulder revealed that Pazu had raised a hand to pinch Theo’s frame between his forefinger and thumb, and at first, the ghost was foolish enough to believe it might have been the larger’s approximation of a hug. But then the grip tightened and applied forward pressure, eliciting an undignified squeak from the ghost as he’d suddenly been reduced to little more than a spectral rag. Pazu dragged him along as one would a tissue, swiping away the moisture from his face with little care for the other’s panicked wriggling, before eventually dismissing him with a flick of his wrist and a disinterested, “Get off of me.”

It took Theo a great deal of weightless tumbling and wobbling to find his footing (so to speak) after being tossed aside, the unexpected ordeal disorienting him thoroughly. Pazu began rising to his feet as the ghost was left shaking the wet residue from his limbs, frowning at its unwillingness to piece apart from his body.

“Ugh— Pazu, really! You couldn’t have used your sleeve, or – I don’t know – anything that wasn’t me?! Do you realize how hard it is to clean yourself off when water phases right through your—“

“God, shut up already. My head is killing me,” Pazu grumbled, sounding much more like his usual self already, albeit somewhat exhausted. He had strode to the scene of broken glass and scattered flowers, narrowing his eyes and huffing a sigh as he collected his impromptu projectile. He turned the phone over in his hands a few times, seemingly checking for notable damage. Based on his lack of reaction to the object, Theo assumed that it had, at least, come out of the tantrum relatively unscathed.

“Somehow, you’re so annoying that it’s legitimately sobering. I’m almost impressed.”

“Oh? Oh!” Theo’s face lit up as he considered the remark, his previous gripe dissipating as even the bluish glow of his form seemed to intensify with his delight, “Thank you!”

“That—“ Pazu spun around with an expression of blank bewilderment. “That wasn’t a compliment, you freak.”

——————

The dormitory door clattered open noisily as its resident shouldered past it, staggering slightly as he hauled a hefty-looking plastic bucket into the living space and snickering to himself all the while. The glowing speck trailing him — perceptible to his eyes only — appeared much less amused, striking a deep frown and fretting his hands in jittery, nervous motions.

“Pazu!” the ghost chastised in a quavering tone, “You mustn’t speak to others that way — especially when they’re your peers, and doubly so when they manage your living situation! You should go back and apologize to that young man right away!”

Pazu snorted, kicking the door behind him closed with a haphazard, unbalanced motion. “Oh, please. The RA can’t actually do anything to me. He just likes going on power trips and yelling at anything that moves.”

“But you didn’t have to bring his mother into it!”

He shrugged, flashing a toothy, self-congratulatory grin. “Well, he’s the one who overreacted over a tiny bit of spilt water in the hallway. I don’t escalate, Teddy; I just give what I get.”

Theo groaned, throwing a worried glance to the door again, as if the dormitory RA would come bursting through with an eviction notice at any moment. It wasn’t as though he personally needed a roof over his head, but Pazu losing his home would surely cause even further delays to his research in exorcism, a process that already seemed to be taking quite some time. And for goodness sake, Theo did care about the boy. Not that Pazu ever made it easy to do so.

A ruckus from within the dormitory drew the wisp’s attention back to his living counterpart. The bucket — apparently a special order Pazu had placed with the wholesaler that he normally sourced his flowers from — had sloshed more puddles onto the floor as a struggle to lift it onto the table ensued. Thank goodness the delicate blossoms had been covered by a thin, opaque tarp cinched gently around the stems, Theo marveled, as he was certain that half of their petals would have been knocked clean off by now. The obscured flowers did leave him to wonder what plans Pazu had that required buying a single variant in such bulk, as he tended to source from a variety of species with a preference for more petite arrangements. It was nice to see him like this again, though; since the other day’s bizarre outburst, Pazu had seemed quieter than usual, and at times it even felt as if he was outright avoiding Theo. Though the recent vulgarity and mischief wasn’t exactly soothing, the familiarity of his old personality was comforting, and witnessing the resurfacing of the passion he held for his flowers eased Theo’s anxieties in some small way.

In the time it took for the tiny specter to drift across the room to the table, Pazu had finally managed to settle his haul on its surface, his lanky frame deflating slightly from the effort.

“So…what did you end up getting this time?” Theo queried, assuming his typical position of hovering just above the noirette’s shoulder. He’d been staring down at the covered bundle of flora, but after a gap of silence with no response, he turned to glance at the face beside him, only to realize he was being stared at. Pazu’s visible eye was widened, yet blank, and just as Theo had begun to wonder if he’d somehow said something to upset him, he cleared his throat.

“It’s…not really any of your business. I don’t even particularly like this one, so I don’t even know why I’m bothering with it— I mean, maybe you’ll like it, since you have terrible taste and all. Not that I got them for you, obviously,” Pazu stammered in a way that was very unlike him. He picked at the twist tie securing the protective tarp slowly, his thin fingers rigid and clumsy as if stricken with sudden stage fright, then clicked his tongue and muttered, “Ugh, why’d you have to draw attention to it? This would’ve been easier if you weren’t so nosy—“

Both the living and dead occupants of the dorm flinched in shock at a sudden banging at the door. The muffled voice of the RA carried through the barrier, prattling on sternly about needing to speak to Pazu immediately and how “this was the last time” and other such heated threats. The subject of the summons gave a mildly frustrated huff, whereas Theo launched himself into a full-blown panic.

“See?! I told you to apologize! Now you’ve gone and gotten yourself evicted!” the spirit caterwauled, eliciting an exasperated roll of the eyes from the giant beside him.

“Cool it, Tedster. He said it was the last time last time, and I had him crying three minutes into our little chat,” Pazu muttered. A wicked smirk snaked its way across his face as he added in a hushed, sing-song snicker, “Bet’cha I can get it down to two.”

He yanked the plastic sheet away from the bucket as he walked towards the entrance, crumpling it into a messy bundle and tossing it haphazardly into a corner, presumably to be dealt with later. Theo began to drift after him, already dreading the idea that he’d likely end up as Pazu’s makeshift fidget toy again (he tended to meet this fate any time Pazu needed to deal with what he deemed to be an aggravating situation, which was…admittedly, quite often), but he was halted by the dismissive wave of a hand.

“Stay here. I can only handle a single goody-two-shoes talking my ear off about ‘responsibility’ and ‘morality’ at a time.” There was a high-pitched lilt to the words he emphasized, and Theo was certain that it was an attempt at mocking his own lectures. He would have been keen to point out that he, in fact, sounded nothing like that, but kept his mouth shut. As Pazu neared the door, he made a low noise as if he’d just recalled something, then turned and pointed an accusatory finger at his undead captive. “And don’t touch my flowers. I swear to God, if I come back and see you getting your gross dead-ness on them again, I’ll—“

“You’ll find a way to kill me a second time. Yes, I recall,” Theo finished the threat, almost dutifully. He hadn’t meant it as a means of back talk, but upon realizing it may have come across as such to Pazu (and reminding himself for the umpteenth time to think before he speaks, damn it!), he stiffened, bracing for an icy glare that promised later punishment. But the student’s expression was surprisingly blank, lacking even the faintest trace of hostility. He blinked, glancing at the bundle on the table, then back to Theo.

“Um…right,” he replied, then simply, “Thanks.”

And this was what utterly confounded Theo beyond anything else he’d seen as of late. It seemed an odd response to their banter, and completely out of character for the normally cold-hearted recluse. Come to think of it, had Pazu ever thanked him for…well, anything? Why now?

The door gap in the doorway narrowed in Pazu’s absence, and the beginnings of a royal chewing out could be heard (Theo could just barely make out a “You know I can hear you talking to yourself, right?”). Though as it finally clicked shut and the spirit was left in silence, it dawned on him that he’d never gotten a good look at the flowers beneath the now discarded tarp. Madly curious as to what could have possibly sparked such odd behaviors in his living counterpart, Theo turned his attention back to the table. And then he understood. A beaming smile rose to his face, and the spectral aura around his form glowed a bit brighter.

The container before him was practically overflowing with petals now freed from their restrictive covering, each hyacinth a bursting with a dazzling violet hue. He would never know — he would never be bold enough to ask, really — but Theo felt certain now that he knew what the earlier thanks had been for.

#idk how i feel about either of these pieces. but HEY i finished something #grah writing my number one enemy #ghostswap au #oc: theo #oc: pazu #g/t #g/t ocs #giant/tiny #g/t writing #size difference #writingtag #hurt/comfort #gt community

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thelilfae · 6 months ago

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long ass continuation from last post!!

I wrote the rest of the scenario after this but ill draw those later!! da midnight motivation is real. also slight warning for depictions of bruises/bruising! enjoy !

poor babey! (she'll be ok dw) also heres Eugene and Ambrose in my previous artworks aswell if you want to see more of them~!

part 1 • current • part 3 • part 4 (tbd)

#g/t #g/t community #gt #giant tiny #giant/tiny #gianttiny #g/t art #g/t ocs #g/t scenario #g/t sfw #sfw gt #sfw g/t #gt art #giant/tiny art #gentle giant #g/t drawing #hurt/comfort #fairies #fairy

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kodared · 8 months ago

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✰ Stanford & Borrower/Anomaly Reader ✰

fears not enough they have to tear him apart.

Chapter 3/?

Wordcount: 2,557 / 7,296

➤ Summary Based on the borrowers of many universes! I hope you enjoy it, and if you don't know about borrowers, let me be your guide into a world I've loved since I was young. ✰Written because I saw the severe lack of borrower content in Gravity Falls fanfic, i hope you enjoy <3 ✰ - ★Updates irregularly! I write when I want ★ ★ - Also on AO3! - ★

!!! CONTENT WARNING FOR VIVID DESCRIPTION OF PANIC ATTACKS. !!!

...

More than anything you wanted to get away from this human. Your hands finally weaseled their way out of his vice grip as you pushed at his fingers that held down your body. His thumb still pressed across your shoulders painfully as you tried to pry him off.

“Let GO!-“

Ignoring his question you let out a strangled cry, if you weren’t so frantic and lightheaded you might have believed the expression on his face to be pure shock and awe.

“I'm afraid I can't do that, you'll just take off running and I would like to ask you a few questions,”

That was the point of being put down you quipped back in your head. Your voice lost among your emotions as you screamed internally, not wanting to give this scientist the satisfaction of a response. Your hands still pushing at his digits that curled uncomfortably around you. It was pathetic really. Being able to be pinned by the simple act of being held. His grip wasnt even all that tight anymore, adding insult to injury.

The sheer power the human held over you just by existing made you dizzy and nauseous.

He seemed to be lost in thought as he watched you push and practically claw at his pointer finger. He made no move to pin your hands down again so you assumed you weren't doing much damage to your dismay.

That damned jar once again was lifted and set on the desk, before you could stop it you felt his hand tilting so your legs faced the opening.

You tried to stop it by pushing a foot on the rim, but it was no use. All it took was Ford letting go and gravity pulled you down into the glass with a small thud.

Your injured ankle took the brunt of the force, making you stifle a scream as you landed painfully into the glass. All the while the human just pulled his journal closer and wrote.

Stumbling on your feet you leaned against the front of the glass, your hands balling into fists as you hit the thick and cold glass.

“There, now that I'm not holding you does that help?”

It almost made it worse. Atleast he wasnt picking up the jar and taking you down into his lab.

He wasnt speaking, keeping his eyes trained on you and your heaving form. You could feel the beads of sweat practically rolling down your face.

You were stressed. You could feel the buzz of a panic attack under your skin, your fists no longer hitting the glass as you tried to calm your frantic breathing.

Standing was too much to ask of your body too it seemed as your knees buckled and you fell into the cold floor again.

You only realized Ford was still speaking to you when you finally looked back up and saw almost a panicked expression on his face. Your ears rang painfully loud as you tried so hard to focus on what he was saying.

Ultimately it didn't matter because right as you started looking up at him he seemed to panic more. Helpless to stop him you watched as he stood from his desk and you physically recoiled. Half expecting him to pick up the glass and take you down to his lab the moment you stopped being useful.

He didn't do that though to your surprise. He just left the room. You thought that would calm you down but it didn't, the panic in your chest still raged on.

The once uncomfortable buzz under your skin had now circled its way to your lungs. Your breathing was labored and frantic, the only comfort coming from the freezing glass walls of your prison as you pressed against it.

Small droplets of tears glided down your face, leaving an uncomfortable dryness in their wake. You curled up as small as possible, your knees pressing to your chest.

You had been caught.

Your fate was sealed.

He would drop you off at some lab for more testing if he didn't do it himself. He was probably calling someone to get you now.

Unbeknownst to you at the moment he was making a call, but not a call to any scientist. He was making a call to the most brilliant mechanic he knew for help.

…

It felt like it took forever for the human to come back. You didn't exactly trust your time perception at this moment though, he could've only been gone for a few minutes for all you knew.

You stayed curled in your tight ball as you heard him sit back down at his desk. Your body is tense and awaiting him to do something. He was most definitely looking at you, no doubt writing whatever he could into his journal.

You didn't look at him. Straining your still ringing ears to try to pick up anything that could clue you into what he was doing.

You could most definitely hear his pen scratching away at a page in his journal. He wasnt speaking to you directly which wasnt as big of a relief as you thought it would be.

Why did he leave the room? That was your biggest question in all honesty.

A few more moments of silence passed between the two of you. The only sound was your strained breathing that you doubted the human could hear anyway.

Your shoulders tensed as his voice was once again reverberating around you. Still in a whisper despite how loud it was regardless.

“...It didn't seem to have any claws, how would It have survived in the wilderness.. Does it have some sort of venom? No, if it did-”

…Ah. Muttering to himself. Honestly, the mark of someone who was completely sane was when they mumbled to themselves.

You screwed your eyes shut as you blocked out what he was saying. Especially when he insisted on referring to you as an ‘it’.

You were about to yell at him, to tell him to shut up when your ears heard a loud knocking coming from the front door.

So he had called more scientists after all.

The creaky wooden chair he sat on squealed against the hardwood floor as he stood. Your hands clamping over your sensitive ears before the panic that had just begun to dissipate picked back up tenfold.

His hand reached for the jar.

Denial.

There was no way he was just going to turn you into the others so quickly. He had only just discovered you. Surely he hadn't taken enough notes yet to be satisfied.

You reeled backward, your ankle screaming its protests as well as your lungs. The oxygen your brain craves so much is being exhaled much too quickly to be fully processed.

His hand closed around the Jar. Making your body sway unsteadily as you saw the desk below you rising. The glass flooring heavily disorients you.

Anger.

What reasoning did he have to uproot you from your life? You weren't harming anyone. You were being turned into some scientist to experiment on you just for being born. You hadn't asked for this.

You had just as much control over being born a borrower as he had being born a man. You didn't choose this life.

Your hands hit against the glass as more tears began to go down your face. Hitting the floor of the jar with a faint clink.

The human seemed none the wiser to your protests. His other hand going to cover the top of the jar as he swiftly left his room.

Bargaining.

Your whole body was shaking. The desperation finally made you find your voice as it cracked.

“Let me out!- I'll talk!- I can-... I can tell you more! Don't you want answers? I can give answers!-”

You rambled to yourself through choked sobs. The reality of your situation hits you like a ton of bricks.

The human didn't stop walking to the main room. You both were now at the stairs when he finally acknowledged you.

“We can all talk in a moment,”

His voice was smooth as if he was zoned in on one task and one task alone.

Depression.

The realization that you couldn't stop him put a new weight on your chest as you fell into the glass wall. Not from your shaky legs surprisingly. The human just wasnt holding the jar with the most care it seemed.

You tried to put on a brave face as he set your glass prison on the kitchen table. You were back where it all started.

You should've been more careful that night. He should have never seen you. You should have never moved into this cottage. More than anything you regretted not being able to see your family again.

You could hear the front door open as a second pair of footsteps joined Ford in the kitchen.

You prepared yourself for the worst. So when you looked up and met the eyes of his colleague you stilled.

“...You put them in a JAR?-”

You hadn't expected that.

Ford seemed shocked at his assistants' outburst. Floundering for an excuse.

“It was the best option! It didn't want to be held and if I put it down it wouldve-”

You could only imagine how rough you looked based on how the other human's expression softened when you flinched at the humans raising their voices.

The other scientist Ford invited over had a very thick Southern accent. You never really heard an accent like his unless you counted the shows Ford occasionally played much too loud.

Thinking back on it this human might have made him watch said shows.

He took his thin-framed glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. Agitated with his companion.

“You called sayin’ they looked ill, it's not hard to see exactly why.”

It clicked in your head now. Ford must've seen your panic as some sort of illness rather than the emotional trauma he was inflincting.

“I wasnt causing it any harm! It even understands English, do you know how big of a find this is!”

Ford was trying his hardest to explain his reasoning to Fiddleford. He only wanted answers from the smaller being. Fiddleford put his glasses back on and directly addressed the creature in the jar.

You watched as he crouched down by the table, causing you to push yourself backward. Pressing against the glass as hard as you possibly could to put distance between the two of you.

“M’terribly sorry for all this. Do you have a name? Mines Fiddleford. Fiddleford Mcgucket,”

He didn't reach for the jar, he didn't even get closer to examine you. He just sat still, patiently waiting for you to respond.

Ford interjected.

“I already tried talking to it directly, but it gave me no response apart from when we were on the stairs and it was just babbling-”

“y/n.”

Both the humans in the room froze at your weak voice. Of course, it was rough and scratchy from your prior sobbing, but they heard it regardless.

“Thats.. That's my name.”

You could see the way Fiddlefords mouth pinched into a small smile. Almost one of pride at being able to get a response from you.

Ford didn't look upset, but he most definitely wasnt pleased at the thought of the creature preferring Fiddleford over him. After all, he had been the one to discover it, it should want to talk to him.

“Pleased to meet ya, I would offer you a handshake but… Well, I doubt you'd be able to shake more than my pinky”

His chuckle soothed you slightly. Your chest still felt tight, reminding you of just how terrible you looked probably as you wiped your tears away finally.

You even caught yourself trying to smile out of politeness before resting your shaking hands in your lap.

You could see the way Fiddlefords eyebrows pinched together in concern.

“Do ya need any water? How long have you been in there?”

“I uh-”

Neither of the humans heard you as Ford stepped forward again and let out a sigh.

“I’ve only had it in there for an hour or so, if we let it out it could run.”

It most definitely felt longer than an hour. Time must’ve been moving faster since you were in such a panic.

Your body instinctually tensed up as Ford stepped closer. Making Fiddleford finally snap as he stood from his crouch.

“I need a word with you alone,”

He didn't even wait for Ford to respond before yanking him by the sleeve out of the room. Leaving you alone once more as you heard the front door slam.

…

“Ford. Ya can't just trap someone in a jar and expect them to be okay. Mentally and physically speakin’.”

Ford was being actively chewed out and by his assistant no less.

He crossed his arms across his chest defensively. His hands tightened on his forearms.

“I never hurt it! I only asked it a few questions, even the Gnome was calmer than it!”

“The Gnome was an entirely different situation! You asked him if he wanted to come with you! You just found this… What did you call them?”

“Parva persona.”

Fiddleford ran a hand through his hair before reaching into his jacket and pulling out his tobacco. Ignoring the way Ford groaned to himself as the mechanic put a bit in his lip.

“Whatever. Not their name anyway. And while yer’ at it quit callin’ them an it. It's dehumanizing.”

Ford unfolded his hands and threw them in the air before gripping the railing of his porch.

“Exactly my point Fiddleford! They’re not human! It's abnormal! By all rules of science, it shouldn't even be possible for something as small as it to exist!”

Fiddleford spit a bit of his chewing tobacco off the porch before slowly getting more agitated with his partner. He could be so smart but so dumb most of the time.

“What makes something deserving of basic decency Ford? Because ill tell ya’, its normally when they look human but smaller and can speak English. I think you even treated the Gnome with more dignity! You didn't trap him in a jar!”

Ford didn't quip back saying he did put the gnome in a cage after questioning it for a few days to research it. He just sighed and looked off into the woods.

“...I just don't want my discovery to run off if we let it out. If it runs I don't think ill get another opportunity for answers.”

“Why not just talk to them? M’sure you could get them to hang around, you’d just have to accept getting answers slowly. An while yer at it stop puttin’ em in jars.”

…That might work. If Ford could make some sort of connection with it he could get more answers than just interrogating it in the jar. Ford could see the look in his eyes and before he could stop it the other man was already going back into the cottage.

With a heavy groan, Fiddleford spat out the last of his tobacco off the porch into the grass before following him.

He had a feeling this would be a long night with no sleep. For both him and the creature in the jar.

. . .

TAGLIST: @i-am-tiredd

Thank you so much for reading!! More updates soon :)

#gravity falls #stanford x anomaly reader #stanford pines x reader #fiddleford mcgucket #fiddleford mcgucket x reader #g/t #borrower reader #size difference #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #giant/tiny #stanford pines x anomaly reader #young stanford pines #chapter 3 #fears not enough they have to tear them apart

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astroaro8889 · 6 months ago

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Tinies in the cold

It’s very cold today, we got the first big snow of the holiday season and that made me want to write a g/t winter related story:

One of my favorite tropes is when a giant finds a tiny, stuck out in the cold. It creates a perfect situation where the tiny is vulnerable and helpless, not because they are weak or incapable, but because they have been trapped out in a world that is huge, hostile, and cruel.

Thanks to square cube law, their small bodies actively struggle to maintain heat, and their body sinks into snowdrift too high for them to climb.

They live in a world so big that they are slowly being drained away by it, as their body heat is taken by the endless expanse of a world too large and uncaring to accommodate them, a world that wants only to dim whatever light and beauty they brought into the world.

Imagine someone in this situation, at the most vulnerable they’ve ever been, as suddenly, a huge shadow passes overhead.

Here is something so much bigger, a terrifying being that seems to belong to the cruel world around it. And as the being picks them up, they know that this is their end, caught between the slow, ebbing death of the snow below, and the threat of an enclosing fist larger than themselves.

But, instead of being crushed instantly, as they thought they would, they find themselves dangling and weightless before being placed in the front of the giants coat, close against their chest.

Now, they are caught between a hand larger than themselves, and a heart that sounds as large as they are thumping against them, each beat breathing both warmth and life back to their body.

The giants pulsing heartbeat is a response to their vulnerability. They saw the tiny helpless, and was filled with an ache in their chest, and an intense desire to shield them from the unfeeling cold of the universe, to take them away from a world that cared not for the precious soul within.

Square cube law is their friend. Their own immense warmth sinks into the tiny, returning strength to their limbs, reviving them back from the brink. By using their strength to shield the tiny, they have helped return to the tiny the strength they possessed before.

The tiny is still somewhat vulnerable, held gently within their fist, but now, via their compassion, they’ve retuned to them the strength they’ve always possessed within them, the strength that allowed them to stand on their own two feet and the strength they’ve honed from surviving in a world made for beings far larger and terrible than they. They took the tinies helplessness and melted it away with the force of their own heart. To the tiny, it appears as if this giant being, against all reason, cared enough to save something as small and inconsequential as them from the unflinching apathy of their own vast world.

But all the giant sees is the return of the light to their eyes, and the returning embers of a soul that, despite the tiny body it inhabits, if loved correctly, has the power to grow into a flame that casts its own light into the universe around it.

This holiday season has the potential to be hard for many people. The world we live in treats people differently, especially when times get hard. In the coming dark times, please be kind and use your light to help others who may be struggling. If we help light enough of each others candles, the entire world will be a bit brighter.

#g/t #giant/tiny #g/t fluff #gentle giantess #G/t hurt/comfort #g/t writing #g/t scenario #Happy holidays everyone!#It’s okay to not be at your best around the holiday season #But know that you deserve just as much love and care as those with warmth and holiday spirit to spare

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stanlees-stuff · 2 years ago

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"Cc we're sorry, just .... please don't be scared, I promise we won't hurt you..."

based on @kix-mm's story here

DAMM, I never knew I needed gt throuples in my life till now!! decided to draw one of the scenes in the story. AAAH THE STORY WAS SO GOOD!! The amount of love they have for each other is just so fricking sweet!! and how much you can tell A and B cherish C and want them in their lives

anyways kix is a really good writer, bye >:]

#g/t #giant/tiny #gt community #gt #gentle giant #g/t drawing #g/t fluff #giant tiny #g/t community #gt fearplay #fearplay #hurt/comfort #g/t comic #g/t angst #gt angst #polyamory #honestly reading it made me feel all giddy inside

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original-person · 11 months ago

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First post on here let's go!!

SFW the only warning I can think of is argument?

I had a thought that made me want to try and write something with scaramouche

is probably gonna feel ooc? I don't think I know his character that well so most of this is based on what I deduced from YouTube videos and such.

BEWARE I HAVE NEVER WRITTEN ANYTHING OTHER THAT WHAT SCHOOL FORCED ME TO. ESPECIALLY SOMETHING WITH G/T IN IT. (I've used chat gpt to check gramatic mistakes so if anything blame the damn ai)

If you don't know what g/t is just search up giant/tiny

Note:I think this idea fits sagau soooo-

Angst and hurt/a little bit of comfort

Summary: you invite scara to your realm of solace (your room) to rest. Maybe you should have mentioned that you have another form besides your mortal looking one.

Scaramouche was sitting in his chair next to his desk, working on documents. His hand moved with the pen, the scribbling lightly echoing in the almost empty office. It would have been empty if not for you, looking out the window, staring at what used to be the sunset, now a starry sky.

You moved from the window towards the desk and behind the chair. You hugged Scara loosely around the neck and slowly rested your chin against his shoulder. He stopped his movements to not mess up the writing, put the pen down, and slightly turned his head to you.

"Is there any particular reason you're bothering me?" he asked, his tone irritated. Ignoring his tone, you knew he didn't mean it anyway, and you let out a tired sigh. "Didn't you do enough work already? You should rest." He scoffed, turning his attention back to the documents. "I don't require rest as humans do, and you know that. Besides, I'm not done yet."

Looking at the pile of papers, it seemed like it was going to take ages. "Well, I would have less if you knew how to do your own paperwork." Ah, you said that out loud. "But still, can't it wait? I want to be with you." Burying your head deeper into his shoulder and wrapping your arms tighter around him, Scara let out a sigh and put his hand on his forehead. "Great, Archon forbid you aren't with me for some time."

You stood up and sulked next to him. Scara furrowed his eyebrows and let out a big, annoyed sigh on purpose as he leaned back into his chair before getting up and stretching. Cracking his hand, he did feel sore, but he wouldn't tell you that. Jokes on him, you noticed anyway, and you lit up instantly with an idea popping up in your head.

The god glanced at their partner with a gentle, adoring smile. “Scara,” they said softly, reaching out their hand. “I’d like to show you something special.” Scara turned to them, crossing his arms. "What is it?" "That's a secret," you put your finger on his lips, "but it is going to help you rest."

Curiosity piqued, Scaramouche closed the distance between you, grasping your hand gently. "I somehow doubt that." You raised your other hand, and with a simple gesture, the air shimmered, and the room began to change. The familiar surroundings melted away, replaced by a realm—your realm. The realm unfolded like a dreamscape, an infinite expanse of tranquility that seemed to stretch on and on. Soft, ambient light bathed the surroundings in hues, creating an otherworldly pleasant glow.

Scaramouche almost forgot you were a god. Nowadays, it feels okay again, but it reminds him of when he first found out. Oh, how he felt betrayed. He felt worthless, only a mere plaything for you. But you assured him that you didn't see him that way. That you didn't come to Teyvat, to him, just to play god. No, you just wanted to experience it from their view.

“Welcome to the realm of solace,” you said, as he snapped back to reality from his thoughts, your voice resonating with warmth. The ground wasn't surprisingly smooth; rather, it felt like he was standing on a pile of pillows that seemed to shift subtly with each step. “This is a place where reality bends to offer peace and comfort. It’s where I retreat to find solace sometimes from the world.”

Scaramouche’s eyes widened in awe as he took in the sight. The atmosphere itself seemed to slowly wrap around him like a warm blanket. “Not like anything you’ve seen,” you continued with a hearty chuckle. “I also go here to sleep every night, so I guess that makes it my bedroom."

Scaramouche, still absorbing the strange beauty of the realm, nodded slowly. “It’s... incredible,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Guess I don't need to doubt you anymore.”

As you settled onto the bed? Ground? Its softness enveloped you, your presence reassuring. “I hope you find it as comforting as I do,” you said, scooting a little closer to him. Scaramouche took a deep breath and let his body relax, trusting in the promise of solace, staring at the seemingly endless, changing ceiling that looked really far away. The gentle hum of the realm lulled you slowly into a deep sleep. For Scaramouche, the comfort was otherworldly, a stark contrast to when he sometimes tried to rest before, as he was quite sensitive to any sounds. But as he began listening to your light breaths, he found himself falling more into a deeper sleep.

As the night wore on, you, feeling an unprecedented sense of comfort and trust with Scara next to you, unconsciously began changing to your godly form, as you always did when you slept here. The change was seamless and silent, but it had an immediate impact on the bed's dimensions. Scaramouche stirred half-asleep, his eyes fluttered open, pushing down on the ground to sit up. His eyes widened in confusion as he glanced around. The realm's soft glow seemed to dim slightly, reality seeping back in as he noticed the absence of your familiar form beside him. Was he really sleeping so deeply? How? Looking to where you were supposed to be, what he saw made him spring up in caution. Your comforting presence beside him had been replaced with a colossal figure, one that he did not recognize. Panic surged through him, and he bolted upright, his instincts screaming at him to run.

"Who—where?" His voice was a frantic whisper, his body trembling as he quickly turned his head in every direction for you. You were here with him, right? Where are you? Where did you go? Those thoughts were repeating in his mind that he didn't notice the slight stir the figure made.

You were drowsy, but sensing discomfort from Scara, as this realm allowed you to, you tiredly opened your eyes and saw him turning around, looking everywhere, before he felt eyes on him and locked eyes with you.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Scaramouche couldn't see you anywhere, and to make this considerably worse, the giant figure woke up, looking straight at him, looking almost at his very being. He felt his blood freeze in his body; he didn't think that was possible. Not wasting another second, he turned and sprinted. Can he even outrun it? Where is he running? Where are you? His breath is labored; it's hard to run on this plushy surface, almost falling at every step.

Your senses were flooded with Scaramouche's fear, and you reached out instinctively. He shouldn't be scared. Your hand, as gentle as it was large, moved towards Scaramouche to soothe him, to bring him back closer to you. But to Scaramouche, it was overwhelming.

Scaramouche’s mind raced as he stumbled, desperately trying to escape from the towering figure that had replaced the comforting presence he once knew. His heart pounded, not just from fear, but from a deep-seated sense of helplessness that he had tried so hard to bury. He hated feeling like a mere doll, a puppet whose strings could be pulled with little regard for his autonomy. The sensation of being so utterly powerless, so at the mercy of someone else, triggered memories—memories that he wishes he could forget. Memories of his early days, when he was first created and learned of his true nature. Back then, every interaction had seemed to confirm his worst fears: that he was nothing more than a plaything for a god's amusement.

The plush surface beneath him, which had seemed so inviting before, now felt like a trap, each step a reminder of his vulnerability. As he tripped, he cursed under his breath, the bitterness of past betrayals mixing with his current dread. “No, no, not again...” he muttered, struggling to get back on his feet.

You, now fully awake and aware of the distress you had caused, stopped in your tracks. Your hand hovered as you weren't sure what to do now, though intended to comfort, the hand seemed to loom over him like an ominous shadow. “Please, don't run,” your voice echoed softly, trying to cut through his panic.

But for Scaramouche, the giant form was a stark and terrifying contrast to the familiar person he had come to trust. The overwhelming size of the hand, the massive gesture, only reinforced his feeling of being a puppet caught in a storm of uncontrollable forces. He had always loathed the feeling of helplessness, of being manipulated—that's why he became a Harbinger, after all—but this situation exacerbated those fears.

"Scaramouche," the figure called, their voice resonant and soothing, but it only heightened Scaramouche's panic. Scara's eyes widened in terror as the god’s enormous hand reached towards him. Instinctively, he struggled, wriggling against the closing fingers that covered him. The sensation was overwhelming; the figure’s hand, though surprisingly gentle, felt like an inescapable force.

Your head hurt. Your senses were overwhelmed with fear, the opposite of what Scara should have been feeling. "Scaramouche," your voice was firmer now, hoping to break through his panic.

“Let me go!” Scaramouche shouted, his voice strained as he tried to free himself. His breaths came in short, panicked gasps. His mind raced with so many thoughts, memories, and fears.

Knowing you should listen, to give him at least a little bit of sense of control, you brought your other hand to the one holding him and slowly opened it, fearing he might try and jump off. Scaramouche felt his stomach flip as he was turned around in the hand. As the hand opened, Scaramouche, now on his knees, looked up, feeling forced to. He once again locked eyes with you. His violet eyes, usually sharp and filled with defiance, were now wide and vulnerable. They blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of tears that threatened to spill. Each flutter of his eyelids was a silent struggle to hold onto reality and calm his racing thoughts. The blinking slowed, but his gaze remained intense, flickering with a mix of lingering fear and desperate hope.

You slowly lifted your hands, your eyes softening with guilt almost to the point of tears. "I'm so sorry, Scara." Recognition dawned in Scaramouche's eyes. He froze, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You—what...?" Confusion consumed him.

The confusion quickly morphed into anger. Scaramouche’s eyes narrowed, and he clenched his trembling fists. "Let me down," he snapped, his voice rising. "Now."

You flinched at the sharpness of his tone, setting him down. He took a few cautious steps back, guilt weighing heavily on you. "I didn't mean to scare you," you said softly. "I thought it wouldn't matter—"

"Wouldn't matter?" Scaramouche cut you off. "How could something like this not matter?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the tranquility of the realm. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? That I wouldn't care? You... you lied to me!"

"I didn't lie," you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill. "I just... I didn't know how to tell you."

"That's a lie by omission," he spat, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Scara, please," you reached out a hand, but he flinched away, anger flashing in his eyes.

"Don't touch me!" he snapped, taking another step back. "How can I trust you now? What else have you been hiding?"

The guilt weighed heavily on you, the pain of his mistrust cutting deeper than any blade. "I never meant to hurt you. I only want to protect you."

"Protect me? From what?" His voice was a mixture of anger and hurt, a rare vulnerability showing through his usual bravado. "I don't need to be protected!"

"I know you don't," you said softly, "I'm sorry. I should have told you." You took a deep breath to calm your growing headache and began focusing to slowly form back into your smaller self.

Scaramouche watched as you shifted back, the process like one big fluid motion. His anger was still simmering but mingling with hurt. "You should have," he said as you took slow steps towards him, giving him some space. His voice was quieter but no less intense.

"Let's go back, Scara," you said as you looked at the ground in shame. Scaramouche looked at you, his expression hard but conflicted. "Fine," he muttered, not meeting your eyes. "Take me back."

You nodded, lifting your hand as the realm dissolved and his office materialized around you, the air thick with tension in the small space. Scaramouche immediately walked over to his desk, his movements tense and agitated.

You stood by the door, watching him with a heavy heart. "I'm going to get some fresh air. I'm truly sorry for all of this." He didn’t respond immediately, his back turned to you as he gripped the edge of his desk, his knuckles white. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low and strained. "Just... leave me alone for now."

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it. "Alright..." With that, you turned and quietly left the room, closing the door softly behind you. Outside, you leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. The pain of his mistrust still weighed heavily on you, but you hoped that, given time, he might find it in his heart to forgive you. You pushed back against the wall as you paced back and forth, your mind equally chaotic. You couldn't help but replay the events over and over, wondering how you could have handled things differently. The weight of your guilt was overwhelming, but you were determined to make things right, no matter how long it took. You started walking towards the exit, ignoring everything around you as you walked.

Inside the office, as the minutes ticked by, the silence was deafening. Scaramouche's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He hated feeling this vulnerable, this betrayed.

Scaramouche sat down heavily in his chair, his mind racing. He was furious, hurt, and confused all at once. The revelation of your true form had shattered the trust he had painstakingly rebuilt with you. He didn't know how to feel, but he knew he needed time to process everything.

BONUS

As you walked down the hall, your mind still reeling from the confrontation with Scaramouche, you barely noticed Tartaglia approaching from the opposite direction. Usually, you would exchange a few words, but today you couldn’t muster the energy.

He lifted an arm in greeting. "Hey, comrade, are you—" You didn’t even glance his way, storming past him without a word. Ajax furrowed his brows in concern. He stood there, watching your retreating figure. Something was definitely off. He had never seen you this upset before. You were one of the few who seemed cheerful every day.

Curiosity and concern gnawed at him, so he decided to head towards Scaramouche’s office. As he approached, he could hear the furious scratching of a pen on paper, punctuated by occasional grunts of frustration. Ajax frowned, pressing his ear to the door, trying to make out more.

Inside, Scaramouche’s anger was palpable. His pen moved with a fury that seemed to match the tempest in his mind. Ajax pieced together the situation, concluding that you and Scaramouche must have had a serious argument.

With a sigh, Ajax stepped back from the door. He knew better than to intrude on Scaramouche when he was in such a mood. As he walked away from the office, he instead decided to find you and see if there was anything he could do.

I Honestly hope this is okay I've been writting since midnight to 5am

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tinycol-a · 7 months ago

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Don’t forget to take your medicine lol

#g/t community #giant tiny #fear and hunger #male prey #whump community #whump scenario #artwork #tiny #whumpee #hurt/comfort #healthy snack #tiefling #unwilling prey

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enemieswbenefits · 8 months ago

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Find yourself a fairy and throw it to a cat~

#whump art #whump #fairy whump #fae whump #h/c #hurt/comfort #g/t #Giant/tiny #whumptober #my art #g/t whump #whumptober art

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thelilfae · 4 months ago

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its part 3 time!!! part 1 • part 2 • current • part 4 (tbd) this one is... really long as well.... forgive me.... but i cant help itttt my lil blorbos i just love themmmmm, anyway daisy wakes up and Ambrose & Eugene arrive back at camp after their mission :3c

again slight tw for bruises / injury!

ohhhh the brothers r fightingggg (jk lol just jealous!) again i have the rest of the sketches drawn out just not finished 😔 life has been hectic so no promises theyll be done soon but ill try!

part 1 • part 2 • current • part 4 (tbd)

#g/t #giant/tiny #giant tiny #g/t art #gt art #sfw gt #sfw g/t #giant/tiny art #gianttiny #g/t drawing #g/t ocs #g/t scenario #fairy #hurt/comfort

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kodared · 9 months ago

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✰ Stanford & Borrower/Anomaly Reader ✰

fears not enough they have to tear him apart.

Chapter 2/?

Wordcount: 2,684 / 4,741

You had spent the better half of that night scheming of ways actually to put your plan into motion. Sure the basic idea sounded easy enough, but you were only about 6 inches tall. His journal might even be taller than you. You tried not to let that thought bother you.

You had even turned the string lights in your makeshift home on. If you were to think of ways to get the page you needed a comfortable space. You never liked sitting in the dark.

The only sound in your room was your feet hitting the wooden plank you used as a floor while you paced in a circle. It had to be late at this point, and you could check and see if Ford was still awake, but you knew he’d still be up.

Once he was enamored by something he stayed up studying, it felt weird for you to be that something, but here you were.

If you were to take the page out of his journal, you needed something sharp to rip it out. Your needle wouldn’t work, it would take too long to rip the paper. You weren’t too keen on the idea of being caught by the scientist.

You needed something more similar to a knife a human would use. You knew better than to think of making your own. You weren’t much of a blacksmith or crafter, you tinkered with a lot of things sure, but nothing extravagant.

Finally getting bored of the scenery of your room, you decided that if you were going to brainstorm anything it would help to look around first.

You clicked your string lights off and set off into the walls. Your hand fidgets with the needle on your hip anxiously.

You always had a problem with twiddling with things. Your mother even had to put poison ivy on your nails once so you’d stop picking them and the skin around them. …You still had small scars but you tried not to pick them as bad.

Absentmindedly walking the dark corridors of the inner walls wasn’t bad now and again. The cottage didn't have any mice, so you didn't have to worry about predators or bugs for that matter.

You wouldn’t have minded befriending a pill bug though, those little critters were always friendly as long as you had a treat for them.

Your dreams of settling down with a bug friend though would have to wait. Reminding yourself why you came here, you finally felt along the wall for anything that could help.

You were on the first floor. Meaning you were on the right track to the perfect spot to go looking for scraps the human wouldn’t miss.

Not that it mattered if he noticed items going missing anymore, he already knew you were here. It was always best to avoid confrontation though.

Gently tapping on the wall as you went, you felt your body stiffening and halting right as you passed the humans room.

If that was the noise you thought you heard, maybe the plan would be put in action sooner than expected.

Halting in your tapping you gently pressed your body against the wall, hearing the faint whispers of a snore from beyond the wood.

Deciding to bite the bullet you pressed harder, feeling the thin wood bend so you could peek.

True to what you heard, you could see the human, Ford. Passed out at his desk, and even better, the Journal.

Unguarded and open on his desk next to his hand. He must have been taking notes and fallen asleep.

If there was any time to waste you weren’t going to be the one to waste it. Quickly pushing off the wall you took off towards the storage room he kept full of random items.

Usually just rubbish of whatever he was working on at the time, sometimes wires, and more than often boxes full of who knows what. But that didn't matter, because you knew what you were after.

Cramming yourself against the wall once more you operated quickly. Squeezing through the small crack made by pushing you landed on a box. Quickly you brought your sleeved arm up to stifle your coughing from the sheer amount of dust.

Would it kill him to dust now and again or was he only interested in studying???

Pushing past your internal cussing you scanned the floor for what you came for to begin with. A small black screw lay on the floor exactly where you recognized it being. Still sharp at the end from disuse, overlooked on the floor for weeks.

Bingo.

You jumped off of the box, ignoring the protests from your still sprained ankle as you speed walked over to the screw.

Picking it up it felt cool in your hands. A comforting feeling in the stuffy and still dark room. The only light was from the moonlight that drifted from the window up high.

Sometimes you wondered if your family was still okay in the woods. If sometimes when you looked at the moon, they where looking at it too.

You began the long trek back to the humans room, debating whether or not it would be worth it to go back through the walls or just walk on foot.

Eventually, you decided to just go back through the vent. Climbing back up the box and weaseling your way into the wall would be too much work. Plus the vents usually were easy enough to navigate.

You used the screw to pry the grate up ever so slightly before using your hands to pull it up the rest of the way. Your wrist also protesting from where you fell on it. You seriously needed to take better care of yourself once this was all over.

Dropping down into the vents you made sure to pull the grate shut behind you before crawling through the cramped space. Even for you, it was a bit uncomfortable but the cold on your stomach was oddly comforting.

You oddly preferred a cold room over a warm one, even better if you had a warm piece of cloth. Even as a kid you much liked it better in the early months of fall than in the middle of summer.

Finally, you could hear the humans' faint snoring from above you, confirming the vents were a pretty straightforward path to his room.

Taking a deep breath you pushed the grate up. Timing it with his deep snores to make sure he stayed fast asleep.

Clambering up into the open space you could see Ford sleeping at his desk still. His body was uncomfortably curled around and resting on his desk.

You were no fool. You made sure to plan an escape route just in case he did wake up, quickly scanning the room you could see a small hole in the floorboard. Probably made by the natural cut of the wood, but perfect for you to drop into at a moment's notice.

You then looked at his desk. Trying to figure out a safe way to travel up it without your fishhook and thread. When something caught your eye.

The bastard had kept your fishhook. There it lay on his workspace, just barely discernable from your angle on the floor as it glinted in the moonlight. Almost as if it was taunting you.

Suddenly all the nerves you had were ebbing away into frustration. Who gave him the right to keep your things. You worked hard on getting the proper supplies, and he never noticed. So what gave him the right to pocket it like he made it?

You made quick work of walking across the floor and getting your footing on the desk leg. The unpolished wood was rough enough to support your hands and feet as you climbed.

If you could get your fishhook back on top of taking the page you would be ecstatic. Then you could move without worry and find a new place to move into. This would all be behind you and you could talk about it like it was all some bad dream.

Now was a time for the present though as you neared the top of his desk. You had almost forgotten the human was resting just beside you, frightening yourself as you pulled yourself onto the desk and saw his arm right next to you.

…You almost forgot how large this guy was.

He was tall by human standards, you saw him standing next to his assistant before.

Pushing down your curiosity you peeled your eyes away from the human.

Quickly scooping up the fishhook and thread that was so rightfully yours. You took one more glance at him to make sure he was asleep.

By human standards he was attractive. Hell, even by borrower standards he was mildly satisfying. You weren't one of those borrowers who actively sought out humans, but you could admit when someone was pleasing to the eyes.

He had short brown hair that slightly curled at the ends. His glasses were now crooked with how he pressed his face on top of his arm as a makeshift pillow. You allowed your eyes to scan over him a bit longer.

Taking in his outfit as well, a simple brown sweater with a collared shirt poking from above it. His usual trenchcoat was hung on the chair he sat on.

His hands rested on top of his forearms, which-

… Don't humans usually only have five fingers?

You could've sworn they had only five. Raising your own you looked back and forth at it.

You remembered your mother mentioning humans were genetically very similar to borrowers. The only difference is the height, which should mean he would have only five fingers. Not the six he seemed to have on both hands.

You were getting sidetracked. Soon you wouldn't even be living with this weird scientist, so why did it matter if he had an extra finger?

Finally focusing on what you came for, you turned your attention to the journal. That cursed, stupid, red journal. The cause of all your anxiety for the past few days.

He's lucky you're not just burning the entire thing. You weren't above arson, but you didn't want to kill him if the fire got too big. Despite how much you loathed humans.

You walked over to the journal and skimmed over the page it was open to. To no one's shock, it was open on the page you despised the most.

Over the top of the pristine white paper was the name he had given you and your species.

‘Parva persona’. Whatever that meant you didn't care.

Below it was a crude sketch of what you could only assume was your shadowy figure slinking off into the wall. You thought you dressed better than that in all honesty. He could have atleast drawn you in detail.

Whatever. Didnt matter as long as the page was gone. He could always rewrite it but you doubt he would remember everything.

And the more that was lost to time the better in your opinion.

You placed your foot on the page to hold it down as you positioned the screw at the top of the page. Pressing your whole body weight on it as you dragged it down, it worked beautifully. Leaving a messy tear in its wake.

You almost forgot about the snoring behind you.

Until it stopped.

About halfway through slicing into the cursed paper you heard it. The slight intake of breath. The stutter was all you needed to whip around just in time to catch the human sitting up slightly.

His eyes were wide as he looked down at you, the holds of sleep still gripping him tightly as he moved sluggishly.

Screw the page. You dropped the screw and took off to the side of the desk. Already planning on using the hook to drop off the desk and disappear back into the walls before promptly packing your bags and going back to your parents.

As you were about to drop your hook and use it to swing off the desk, you felt the warmth of his hand on your back once more before those damned fingers curled around your entire being.

The human wasnt speaking yet but you didn't want to wait to hear him. Thrashing as hard as you could you tried desperately to grab your needle on your hip, but his hand was quick to squish your arms to your sides.

The dizzying feeling of being lifted off the desk was the next thing you felt. You felt nauseous at the mental image of being manhandled.

The human was stunned into silence as you screwed your eyes shut, still desperately kicking at his pinkie that held your thighs down. His thumb pressed against your neck and shoulders, almost as if he was examining you.

Finally, you opened your eyes, and you wished you hadnt. His other hand held his glasses up, pressing them firmly against the bridge of his nose, as if he was afraid he wasnt seeing right.

His hair messily framed his face as his mouth hung open just a bit. Clearly in awe at what he was seeing. Your heart hammered quickly against your chest as you feared you might die from shock and horror.

You were stuck. Trapped by a scientist. The most dangerous human to exist to your kind.

His grip tightened ever so slightly as he tilted you to the left, looking at the items you had on your hip as he lifted his middle finger. Your thighs and shoulder are still pinned to his palm.

His palm was uncomfortably warm against your back. You hated the feeling of his skin against your clothes. Absentmindedly he used his other hand to poke at the needle on your hip. You contemplated trying to bite him.

Your blood was rushing past your ears as the effects of vertigo hit your body in full swing once more as he moved. His head tilted to look somewhere beside the desk before you heard him rummaging.

It was a wonder you weren't passed out at this point as his hand swayed. The motion was natural to him, but entirely foreign to the small sentient being he held in the palm of his hand.

His eyes focused back on your form as you felt him press something against your side, it was cold and plastic.

Craning your neck you could see him pressing what appeared to be a ruler to your side. His thumb pressed against your shoulder moving to press against your neck as he held you straight.

“...6 and a half inches.. That should be impossible..”

His voice boomed in your ears as you felt the beginnings of a headache nagging at the back of your eyes. In all reality, he was probably whispering. It didn't matter though combined with the closeness he held you at.

His thumb was beginning to press a bit too hard into your neck and you saw spots forming in your vision. Your body kicked up in squirms as you desperately tried to squeeze in another full breath of air.

He was quick to notice as he moved his thumb back to your shoulder.

“Sorry!- I didn't realize, maybe I could..”

He sat down the ruler before taking a few quick notes. Your vision cleared as you sucked in precious oxygen again.

Your vision was just starting to clear fully as your brain caught up with his rummaging. He was once again rifling beside his desk. When you saw him pull a jar up into your vision you felt your blood run cold.

You did not want to be put in a jar. Going into a jar meant transporting you. Which meant you where going down into that lab.

“Stop!-”

The frantic words left your mouth before you could stop them, and you felt the human practically completely freeze. His calculating eyes pierced into your very soul as you felt him grip you ever so slightly tighter. “You can talk!”

-- --- - - - --

Hope you enjoyed!! Will ford be nicer next chapter? Who knows!! I sure dont!!! ✰ Let me know if you enjoyed in the comments!!! I love reading them :)!!! Feel free to send me any asks in my askbox if you want as well! ✰

╱|、♡ (` - 7 |、⁻〵じしˍ,)ノ

#stanford x anomaly reader #stanford pines x reader #stanford gravity falls #stanford pines #gravity falls #ford pines #gravity falls fanfiction #g/t #giant/tiny #borrower reader #borrowers #gt writing #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #multiple chapters #fears not enough they have to tear them apart

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tinyundercover · 11 months ago

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the half-pint

Nyx and Perrin are thieves in a fantasy universe. After a mishap, Nyx suffers the consequences of her actions. word count: 2.5k @gtgotcha4gaza prompt for @sizediscount !! the donation period is still open if anyone wants to contribute and receive g/t art or writing <3

Nyx’s jobs were always simple— get in, steal the thing, then get out.

She had been accepting these jobs for years, and by now she considered herself to be one of the best thieves in the area. Along with her partner, Perrin, there wasn’t a single enchanted object, gold coin, or rare pet that the two of them couldn’t steal with ease.

However, as she and Perrin peered into the camp of fairies, she immensely regretted accepting this job.

“How are we supposed to get to the flower without being seen?” Nyx muttered, dark eyes narrowed.

The two of them were hidden behind a bush, crouched on the dead leaves of the forest floor. Beside her, Perrin sent her an amused glance. Brown curly hair rested atop his head, slightly darker than his warm, tan skin. “Who cares if some fairies see us? What are they gonna do, bite our ankles?”

Nyx frowned, gaze focused ahead. Her black hair was pulled back into dozens of dark braids, snaking down her back. “Fairies can cast spells, genius.”

Perrin’s lips twitched into a smile at her stoic response, glancing back towards the camp. “I know, I’m just joking.”

Earlier in the day, a client had reached out to the Nyx and Perrin, requesting their skills. Their task was to retrieve an incredibly rare flower from the center of the fairies’ camp, buried deep in the woods.

Nyx prided herself on being stealthy, nothing more than a shadow— yet as she examined the rows of miniature houses ahead, she wondered how she could possibly sneak through this tiny town without her footsteps shaking the buildings.

She felt like a big, awkward giant. Even crouched on the forest floor, hidden behind the bush, she was bigger than any of the little buildings. She could maybe squeeze her hand through a doorway if she tried. The houses were scattered over the ground, assembled from twigs and leaves. Tiny lamplights, glowing with green fairy magic, illuminated the area.

Even though it was well into the night, Nyx could still see the glimmering, colorful wings of the fairies still awake, drifting between the shops and houses, floating mere inches above the ground. Each fairy appeared to be the size of her pinky.

Further into the center of the little camp, about twenty feet away from Nyx and Perrin, a thin plant reached towards the night sky. Several blue flowers sprouted off of it, glowing faintly. All they needed was one of those flowers, and their mission would be complete.

“This sucks,” Nyx grumbled, sitting back. “We’re too big. They’re gonna see us no matter what we do.”

“We’ll just have to be fast, then,” Perrin mused, fingers drumming over the thick material of his pant leg. They both wore dark, earthy colors to blend into the forest around them. “I could run in there and grab a flower in ten seconds.”

“Ten seconds is more than enough time to get cursed by a bunch of fairies, Perrin,” Nyx scolded. He shrugged his large shoulders.

“It was just an idea. What do you suggest?”

Nyx focused on the blue flowers ahead, eyes narrowing. “I have a plan.”

Minutes later, Perrin had disappeared into the tangles of the forest, leaving Nyx alone behind the bush. She waited patiently, barely blinking, the silence of the forest unbearable.

Eventually, she heard a crash from deep in the forest, as well as Perrin’s footsteps dramatically stomping away. To Nyx, it wasn’t incredibly loud, but the tiny fairies mingling around the camp reacted as if they had experienced an earthquake.

Immediately, voices rose up from the winged people, bright and angry. Perrin continued to make quite a ruckus somewhere in the forest, serving as a distraction, and Nyx leaned forward, focused.

The fairies began to swoop towards the noise, away from Nyx. Careful not to rustle the leaves around her, Nyx pulled herself to her feet, her lean body posed to move quickly.

The fairies seemed even smaller once she stood to her full height. She watched silently, hidden in the shadows of the trees, until the swarm of glowing wings faded into the distance. Once she was certain that the camp was empty, she darted forward into the tiny village.

The houses barely reached her knees. Nyx kept her gaze low as she weaved through the buildings, cautious of where she placed her feet. She didn’t want to knock anything over— her job was to steal a flower, not to leave destruction.

Her heart raced with exhilaration when she finally reached the plant. It twisted towards the sky, swaying slightly, and without any hesitation she whipped her knife out of her sleeve and sliced a flower off at the stem.

The glow of the flower flickered briefly. Dropping it into a small jar she had retrieved from her tunic, she spun on her heels, swiftly moving away.

The hum of fairy wings grew in her ear, and she cursed under her breath. Just as she reached the edge of the camp, a blur of green wings blocked her vision.

Nyx stumbled, pressing all of her weight into the balls of her feet so as to not tumble over and break any of the delicate buildings. She jerked back, focusing on the fairy hovering directly in front of her face, his little arms crossed over his chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He barked, his small voice alight with fury.

This fairy must have stayed behind in the camp. For a moment, Nyx was terrified— until she processed just how small this man was. It was very difficult to feel intimidated by someone the size of his finger.

She scowled, darting around him. “Get out of my way, half-pint.” His wings hummed angrily.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem keen to chase after her. He only called out to her, voice dwindling with the distance Nyx rapidly put between them. “How confident,” he remarked. “You’ll regret this.”

When Nyx glanced over his shoulder, he was still hovering at the edge of the camp, the glow of his wings illuminating the trees in a faint green light. She said nothing, lips thinning.

His words rocked around her mind until she met up with Perrin, half a mile from the camp. He clapped her on the shoulder, grinning as she presented the jar— but despite their victory, her stomach still tingled with unease.

—

After the worst sleep of her life, Nyx jolted awake.

Darkness surrounded her, suffocating. She blinked rapidly, reaching around for the edge of her blanket, but she couldn’t figure out where she was.

Last night, after their successful mission, Nyx and Perrin had retreated to the closest inn and passed out on cheap beds. Nyx had been prepared for a restless night on the lumpy bed and stringy blanket, but she hadn’t expected to feel this dizzy upon waking up.

“What the hell…” Nyx muttered, finally finding the edge of the blanket and yanking it down to her chest. The fabric was much thicker than she remembered. She hadn’t realized that the blanket was large enough to cover her entire body… strange.

Her confusion grew as soon as her vision cleared.

The ceiling, dark and wooden, stretched high above her. She blinked several times, brow furrowing. The room hadn’t seemed this big when she had gone to sleep last night.

Something was inexplicably wrong.

Anxiety wormed its way into her chest, she sat up, wrapping her arms around herself. Icy fear struck her like lightning when she registered what she was seeing.

The bed stretched around her, an impossibly huge expanse of beige cloth comparable to a wheat field. The edge of the mattress dropped away to a wide, empty space, a drop that would surely kill Nyx if she were to tumble off. Beside her, her pillow was a mountain.

“What…” Nyx swallowed, the color draining from her face.

If she didn’t know any better, she would think she was the size of a fairy.

Her stomach twisted into knots, fearful, confused, shocked. Fighting the dizziness clouding her mind, she shoved herself to her feet— and immediately her arms shot out to keep her balance. She let out a panicked shout, heart pounding. The plush mattress was much harder to stand on than she had been expecting.

Something creaked in response to her yell. Nyx snapped her head up to the other bed.

Her heart jumped into her throat. The sun was barely rising in the window, pale light streaming in to illuminate the hill of Perrin’s shoulder. His chest moved with steady breaths, curls buried into a pillow.

“Oh gods,” Nyx mumbled, stomach dropping.

Perrin was already a big guy, shoulders broad and thick— but this was incomprehensible. Even from across the room, his size absolutely overwhelmed her. Usually they were close to the same height, but Nyx was small enough now that he could easily scoop her up in one hand, and the thought made her nauseas. Nyx’s breath hitched in her throat, unable to pull her gaze away from his enormous, sleeping form.

“Oh gods,” Nyx repeated, panic rising.

Her heart jumped as Perrin shifted again, a large hand tightening on his pillow. When his eyes fluttered open, she fought the urge to turn and run.

It’s just Perrin.

You’ve worked with him for a year.

It’s Perrin. It’s fine.

Nyx swallowed thickly, stepping back, heart thudding nervously. Perrin didn’t notice her. He sat up and stretched, yawning into his hand.

His movement brought a small gasp from Nyx’s lips. She hadn’t expected him to sit up, especially not so quickly, revealing that he was much bigger than she could have imagined.

Gods. I’m small.

Her chest tightened when his gaze swooped towards her, drawn to her gasp. Panic settled into her stomach as soon as his eyes fixed on her small form, squinting, then widening.

The world seemed to freeze for a moment, as he took in the sight of her tiny, trembling form.

“…Nyx?” His voice broke, shocked.

Adrenaline gripped her by the wrists. All reasoning left her mind, leaving her only with primal terror— and with no explanation why, she spun around and bolted.

“Wha— Nyx!”

The startled shout only encouraged her to sprint faster, stumbling over the thick blanket. Panic raced in her chest, shrieking in her ears to run.

Perrin’s footsteps behind her were large and fast, shaking the bed below her. She let out a shriek of surprise when two enormous hands slammed onto the bed in front of her, and before she could halt her sprint she collided right into his palms.

“Nyx, Nyx, woah— it’s okay!”

Cold terror shook Nyx to her core. She staggered away from the enormous hands in front of her, each finger large enough to overpower her with ease— a terrifying, sickening thought. She whirled around, wobbling on the plush surface.

Perrin was kneeling on the floor, broad chest pressed into the side of the bed. His arms stretched forward, hands clasped firmly behind Nyx’s tiny form, trapping her. He was absolutely massive.

No. I’m tiny.

His eyebrows tugged together, a plethora of uneasy emotions crossing his face. Under his enormous, overwhelming gaze, Nyx felt like a mouse. She wanted to sob.

“It’s okay, it’s okay— I promise.” Perrin’s intense gaze focused on her, glancing over her trembling form. “It’s just me, Nyx, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

His comforting words tugged at her heart, and she took several deep breaths, hugging herself. Perrin’s presence surrounded her, enormous and overbearing, and she choked on her breath. “What’s— what’s happening—?”

“Breathe,” Perrin ordered gently, gaze softening. Something enormous and warm pressed into Nyx’s back, and after a nervous flinch she registered that it was his finger. “It’s okay.”

Nyx’s breath shuddered, and she brought her hand to her dark cheek, shakily scraping away the tear that had fallen.

Once Perrin seemed confident that Nyx had relaxed, he carefully unclasped his fingers and pulled his hands towards himself. Nyx let out a shaky breath, stomach twisting.

“Are you okay?” Perrin finally asked, brow knit together in concern.

Nyx swallowed, struggling to meet his enormous gaze. Her voice felt small and weak when she spoke, an uncomfortable feeling. “I… I think so.”

Perrin observed her glancing anxiously around the expansive room, taking in her wobbly, tearful, tiny form. “What happened?”

She blinked in confusion. Reaching back into her memory, she focused on the events of last night. Green wings floated around her mind.

Gods!

“I think… I think a fairy cursed me,” she murmured, heart sinking.

Fairy magic was incredibly difficult to fight. If Nyx wanted to break the curse and grow herself back to her usual height, it would take unfathomable amounts of research and work. The thought that she might be trapped this size for an indefinite amount of time made her feel ill.

“Oh.” Perrin blinked in surprise. “Huh. I guess you were right about how dangerous fairies are.”

“You think?” Nyx muttered, face hot.

Perrin glanced over her, and Nyx wondered if he was aware of how intimidating he appeared, just by existing. He chewed his lip, lost in thought. “It’s alright,” he finally said. “There’s a library downstairs. I’m sure they have hundreds of books on fairy magic.”

“Right.” Nyx nodded unhappily, her stomach jumping every time Perrin shifted, as if he might snatch her up without warning. “Right, we should… go do some research.”

He nodded. His shoulders straightened up, shooting icy surprise into Nyx’s ribs, but he didn’t seem to notice her startled flinch. With a focused expression, he reached towards her.

Nyx inwardly cursed, jerking back from the massive, approaching fingers. However, instead of trapping her in an overwhelming fist like she had expecting, Perrin only lowered his hand to the bed, palm facing up. His gaze softened.

“Let’s go,” he offered. “I can’t imagine you want to stay that size any longer than you have to.”

She blinked up at him, tense. Her mind raced.

“Yeah,” she slowly agreed, peering down at his palm. “Right.”

His hand was enormous. Thick scars and calluses awaited her, his skin worn and damaged with overuse. She froze, stomach cold.

Her trepidation did not go unnoticed. Perrin leaned closer, eyes gentle. “Do you want to stay here?”

His words suddenly felt insulting. Did she really appear so weak and vulnerable that a simple trip to the library downstairs was too much for her? Her terror slowly melded into embarrassment. She and Perrin had gotten into countless dangerous situations together, all of which she had remained calm and cool and rational. This shouldn’t be any different.

Fueled by spite, she surged forward, stepping firmly onto his hand.

She wobbled, not expecting the skin of his palm to sink slightly beneath her feet. Fighting the anxiety flickering in her chest, she sat down, settling into the center of his massive palm. Her arms crossed.

“Alright,” she huffed, furious at the situation. Perrin’s lips twitched in amusement. “Let’s go.”

If she was lucky, they’d be able to find a counterspell in the library, and she’d be back to normal in a few hours.

Everything would be fine.

I had a great time writing this!! be sure to check out the other writing/art contributions from other volunteers as well!! <3

#g/t #g/t writing #giant/tiny #gtgotcha4gaza #shrinking #g/t fearplay #g/t hurt/comfort #original characters

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belethlegwen · 1 year ago

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The Scars We Leave Behind

Written by: @adjacentperception and @belethlegwen

What's left of a hero when everything is taken from him? What's left of a villain with no identity?

What's left of a man who has no choice but to save the symbol of a system he's fighting against?

Within a city constantly besieged by a super-power fueled war between Good vs Evil, a hero is captured by powerful villain and their secret organization and forced to play part in a twisting and enigmatic plan; to tear down the systems in place that keep the League of Heroes in an ultimate seat of power to rival the government itself. But… is the system as good as it projects itself to be? Are the villains and their henchmen really as evil as the media says? Is it truly as simple as tearing it down, or does that simply open up space for a new, worse system to enter?

Is the harm we do when we believe we're helping mitigated merely by our wishes to be better? To create something more? To fix what we believe is broken?

Do we hold blame for creating the evil we think we're fighting against, regardless of our intentions?

This work features descriptions of violence, abuse, neglect, and uses adult language, as well as mentions of nudity and sexual topics.

#g/t #Superhero G/t #Superhero vs Supervillain #hero vs villain #giant/tiny #giant tiny #g/t writing #g/t author #gtauthor #gt #AO3 #Original Work #original story #oc writing #oc story #original fiction #original characters #hurt/comfort

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damnaation · 5 months ago

Text

Ambrosia

There are things older than even the gods, and sometimes those things take issue with the treatment of mortals.

This is the non-vore version of this story. I'm still working on the vore version, but I wanted to get at least this out before the end of the year :)

Part two here!

WARNING: There is a scenario very reminiscent of domestic abuse present in this story, though it is not intentional on the parts of any principal character in the situation. Still, it may be distressing for some readers, so take care. Includes a few brief instances of strangulation and choking.

Ao3 link

Gods often did not make sense to mortals. She knew this—a constant, a fact she'd known as long as her short memory lasted. They did not make sense to mortals.

And they did not love mortals. Feel affection, perhaps, think them cute like a charming pet, but loving would require them to see mortals as an equal. And everyone knows they were not.

The godly realm itself was confusing—could be dangerous for an unaccompanied mortal. Things followed dream logic here, changing and shifting to match its inhabitants’ needs. Her own room—with a bed alone bigger than the room she'd lived in before, the chamber itself easily the size of an inn’s common room, a closet full of more clothes than she could have ever imagined, and a washroom fit for a palace—stayed the same at least, and she could always find her way back to it when she wanted. Helpful when some days the door opened to a parlor, some days a grand hall, some days a courtyard, and on increasingly common occasions her Lord’s own chambers.

…They still weren't certain how to refer to him. He wasn't a god they had followed, his domain the one of performance and lies, and they had always tried to be honest. But they were his—a gift, an offering, traded to obtain his favor. Not that their life was all too pleasant beforehand—a permanent outsider with no family or memories, stuck doing whatever small tasks they could around the inn they had ended up in to pay room and board. At least he didn't require anything of them but their presence.

Today upon leaving her chambers she found herself standing on a table and near the size of a child's doll compared to her surroundings. The change in perspective made her dizzy for a moment, wobbling in place before she managed to get her balance.

… His chambers again. The bed looked like a massive sprawling landscape of dunes, big enough to lose themself in, and the floor was so far below as to be unreachable. But luckily they weren't stranded for long, as they could hear footsteps approaching before the door opened to reveal Lord Juniper. His gaze scanned the room, locking onto her with a slight smile as he approached.

“Good morning, my little flower.” He purred, brushing their cheek with the back of a curled finger before carefully scooping them up in his arms. They were only about as tall as his forearm was long—not the largest he'd been in comparison to them, but still more than capable of being easily lifted and carried around.

She relaxed and let him take her wherever he was planning—he'd never hurt her, and usually respected if she asked to be put down to walk on her own. Even if she felt a bit like a fancy dog when he carried her around.

“Are you hungry, my dear?”

Always with the nicknames, though they supposed it was only fair—using their name would imply they were equals on some level. And at least they were nicer than some of the names they'd been called before, clearly terms of endearment in some form or another.

“Yes.” He would know if she lied, and she was actually hungry. With a little hum he brushed hair away from her face, turning to leave his chambers with her tucked securely in his elbow.

This time he stepped directly into the main hall, a large table running down the center with a single place set—a simple bowl and plate that seemed out of place compared to its grandiose surroundings. A soft white bread roll sat on the plate, and the bowl was full of porridge with raisins. Familiar enough, but still far nicer than what she had been used to before.

They still weren't quite sure where the food came from—they'd never seen Juniper eat, and had yet to find anything resembling a kitchen anywhere. Though they supposed gods wouldn't have to eat.

Her brain went a bit fuzzy when he sat her down—the chair was the right size, as well as the table and dishes, but he hadn't changed anything as far as she could tell. Now, though, he appeared to be at the same scale, or similar enough.

“Go ahead and eat, darling. I have a few brief things to attend to that would likely bore you to tears.” A hand rested on their shoulder and squeezed gently, and then he was gone. They tried not to be upset—it probably would have been boring, and certainly gone over their head, but…

She'd been here for what felt like ages with hardly anything to do but lie around in indolence. She was bored, with little way of resolving it other than trying to explore the palatial estate, but nothing stayed where it was.

For now, at least, she had breakfast to eat. And maybe when she was done she would see about finding her way to the courtyard.

~~~

Outdoors wasn't much different. No wind, no rain, just a perfectly pleasant warm sunny day. Always the same, with artificial regularity. But there were a few trees and a pond in the courtyard, with a pale stone path to wander and a few benches to sit on. Marginally better than lying around inside waiting for him to return—but only barely.

They wanted to stand outside in a thunderstorm again, feel the wind and the rain lashing their skin, the deep rumbles of thunder resonating in their chest like a drum. Even the bitter bite of winter frost, as dangerous and unpleasant as it was, would be something different.

The leaves rustled in a mint-scented breeze, startling her out of her thoughts—the first bit of wind she'd felt all day. Sitting up where she'd been lying on one of the benches—trying to decide whether the sky visible in the gaps between the leaves was real or just another, much higher ceiling—, she watched as Juniper coalesced out of nothing, one moment an empty space and the next inhabited by his familiar figure.

… He almost seemed to stumble for a moment, and didn't quite look the same as he did normally. Dark feathers sprouted from his shoulders, glistening in the light with an odd green shimmer, and his hands had become more like scaled talons ending in sharp-looking claws.

A shiver ran down their spine. They couldn't explain it, but they suddenly felt like they were stuck in a room with a wild animal—a feeling they had never had around him, even when they had been left bound and gagged in his shrine. Something was wrong.

But before she could even try to slip away, his gaze settled on her, a deep pit of dread opening in her stomach. His eyes were slitted like a snake’s, and the grin that spread across his face had none of the warmth in it that she was used to.

“There you are, pet.” He leered, a forked tongue briefly flicking the air as he prowled towards her with a serpentine grace.

“Wh- what? What are you-” Their words were abruptly cut off by a hand grabbing their throat, tight enough to cut off any air despite their desperate, instinctive clawing at the scaled talon.

“I don't believe I gave you permission to speak, mortal.” The words came out in a low, furious hiss, the hand around their neck growing larger until his fingers could wrap entirely around it with ease. Their bare feet kicked helplessly as they were lifted off the ground with no more effort than picking up a discarded toy, his cold slit-pupiled gaze flicking from their face to their hands weakly grabbing at his wrist with a sneer of disgust.

Just as everything started to go black the suffocating grip around her throat vanished with a sickening moment of weightlessness before she fell, hitting the ground with a muffled yelp as pain burst through her leg. A desperate gasp for air led into a coughing fit, curling in on herself in fear as she tried to relieve the burning in her lungs-

“I trust you will remember your place in the future.” They were pinned on their back with a massive hand, putting enough pressure on their battered frame to make them bite back a cry of pain as a sharp claw pressed against their cheek. “Else I may have to cut out your tongue.”

I'm sorry- whatever I did to upset you, I didn't mean it.

She wanted to crawl into her room and hide—better yet, go back to her tiny room at the inn, but there was no way to get back on her own. Not to mention trying to flee might make him even more angry. But she needed to get away-

The ground gave out beneath her, and she was falling once again, though this time she had a much softer landing—staring up at the ceiling of her chamber, watching a single large black feather drift down alongside her. No sign of how she had gotten there, but the developing aches and a burning line of pain on her cheek were enough to know it hadn't been a nightmare.

They needed to hide. Whatever had pulled them out of his reach had given them time, but if they thought he was angry before this would no doubt leave him furious at their escape.

He could kill them for it, if not worse. It was never wise to anger a god, even unintentionally.

With a choked off sob, she began to move, hardly thinking about what she was doing as she pulled the covers from her bed and crawled beneath it, wrapping herself in blankets and curling up in the dark. Everything ached, though her leg and neck bore the worst of it. Squeezing her tear-filled eyes shut with a sniffle, she grimaced at a sudden burning sensation in her cheek, and slowly raised a hand to touch it.

Their face was wet, and in the dim light that reached into their hiding place they could see red on their fingertips as they pulled them away. He'd scratched them, deep enough to bleed. Now that they were aware of it they could feel a stinging line of pain, but they didn't have any way to properly treat it.

… The skirt of her nightdress had a few rips in it now, and it was simple enough to tear a strip from the bottom hem to wad up and press against the cut, keeping pressure on it in hopes it was minor enough to heal on its own.

Curled up in the dark, battered and bruised but most of all terrified, she finally let herself cry. He had been kind to her until now, so careful to not harm her even at his largest size. She wasn't even sure what she'd done wrong, it had been a normal day up until he left, but he was clearly furious at her.

I don't believe I gave you permission to speak.

I trust you will remember your place in the future.

With a pathetic, raspy whine—their throat burned, and it didn't take much to imagine a bruise in the shape of his hand wrapped around it—they pulled their blankets close, trying to make themself as comfortable as possible even as their ankle throbbed with any movement. If they stayed quiet and obedient, he wouldn't hurt them again, right? That was their only option. He would find them eventually, the building itself responded to his wishes. But they only hoped for a little longer before that point, enough time to compose themself—if speaking out of turn got them this amount of punishment, crying would certainly be worse.

She wasn't sure how long she lay there, but eventually the tears dried up, leaving an empty hollow feeling interrupted only by the pain of her injuries and a heavy exhaustion. He hadn't come for her, and she couldn't hear anything beyond her chambers. Shuffling to peek out from under the bed, she let out a soft gasp at what she saw—the door to the rest of the palace was gone. The one that always opened to her washroom was still in place, but it was the only interruption in the smooth stone walls.

They'd been locked in their room like a dog in a cage. For some reason that was the final straw, and with a sniffle they pulled a blanket over their head and allowed themself to drift into unconsciousness. If they were asleep at least they wouldn't hurt, and it was unlikely he would drag them out of their hiding spot if he'd really locked them in their room.

When she awoke it was with a pounding in her temples and a horrible thirst. For a moment she was confused as to why she was lying on the floor, but the jolt of pain that ran through her when she moved quickly reminded her what had happened. Dragging herself out from under her bed, she had to lean against the wall to get to the washroom door, as her ankle hurt whenever she put weight on it—hopefully it wasn't broken, but it was certainly swollen and warm to the touch.

There was still a pitcher of clean water in their washroom—a habit they kept, even with the magical wash basin and bath that filled from strange keg-taps in the wall. Their reflection hardly looked recognizable—puffy, red-rimmed eyes from crying, the dark purple of bruising around their neck, patchy bits of red like an uneven sunburn on their face and chest, and the cut on their cheek that had started to scab over while they slept. Their hair fell messily around their face, and their gaze seemed sunken and hollow.

Dropping her head and turning away from the polished mirror, she carefully poured some water from the pitcher into her cupped palm, barely managing to swallow more than a sip without pain. But she was unbearably thirsty, and forced herself to push through the stinging ache until she had her fill.

… A warm bath sounded nice, and would likely ease some of their aches, but the thought of being caught even more helpless than they already were sent a chill down their spine. No, even if he was leaving them to their own devices for now they weren't going to risk it.

Shuffling back to their bed, they froze at the sight of the black feather still lying on top of it.

She'd never seen him like that, feathered and scaled with sharp talons. He wasn't human, of course, but he'd always appeared as such, aside from the changes in size. It was just another reminder of how unfathomable he truly was, and how powerless she was against him.

Another rolling wave of exhaustion overcame them, and once more they shuffled underneath their bed—the longer it went, the more likely he would come looking, and not being immediately visible would give them a bit of warning, at least.

Of course, who's to say he didn't forget about me? Or that he didn't lock me in here on purpose as punishment—I'll need to eat eventually, and I can't get out if there's no door.

Those thoughts weren't very reassuring, but there wasn't much they could do to change the situation. At least they had water. They could figure out food if it came to that.

With a heavy, wet sigh she pulled her covers around herself once again and let exhaustion take her. Sleeping on the floor had made her stiff, but it was a small price to pay for some meager amount of safety.

The next time she awoke was to a growling stomach. This time, at least, she remembered where she was and why—though whether that was a good thing or not was debatable. Her ankle felt stiff, even more so than the rest of her, and her throat still ached. She should probably get up, start trying to figure out how to get food, but couldn't muster up the energy to move.

Why now? Why wait so long to punish me for overstepping? Why not make it clear from the beginning?

The thoughts wouldn't leave them alone, whirling in their head like a maelstrom to the point they almost missed the sound of a door opening.

“Little one?”

She froze, a hand clamping over her mouth and hardly daring to breathe lest he hear it, terrified tears starting to well in her eyes. He'd already come looking for her, and while he didn't sound mad she couldn't trust that—the god of lies and performance was no doubt a skilled actor.

“Are you still sleeping? It's quite late-” His words cut off suddenly, and they could both hear and see him step into their room, walking towards their bed.

The feather.

“Where did you come from?” He murmured softly, the slightest brush of skin against fabric hinting that he'd picked the feather off their bed. They could see him standing on the other side, only from mid-calf down, but clearly present nonetheless.

Please just go. Whatever game you're playing, I don't want to be part of it anymore. I want to go home.

Silent tears filled her eyes as she lay there trembling, but he didn't leave.

“Are you hiding? I only wanted to check on you, I've been worried.”

That didn't make any sense. He'd half strangled them, locked them in their room, and now he was worried about them? Why couldn't he just leave them alone?

All of a sudden their traitorous stomach growled plaintively. All it cared about was that she hadn't eaten since before everything had happened, however long ago that had been. Their eyes widened in terror, and for a brief moment they hoped he hadn't heard, but their hopes were dashed as they saw him pause, stepping back from the bed slightly before shifting as if to kneel down and look.

“Little flower? What are you-”

With a frightened, raspy whine she shoved herself back and away, backing up blindly until she hit the wall and pulling her blankets tighter around herself as if they could shield her from the wrath of a god. She could hear what sounded like a catch in his breath, but surely it was just her own frantic, terrified breathing echoing in her ears.

Why is he doing this? What's the point of toying with me like this?

They could hear his footsteps rounding the bed and recoiled, curling in on themself as much as they could with their bruises and stiff muscles.

“Darling, what's-”

A sudden, crushing silence fell. They could feel his gaze on them, even as they kept their eyes fixed on the floor, head bowed—as close to prostrating themself before him as they could manage at the moment, all but frozen in their fear.

“What happened to you?” His voice was quiet and tense with barely-restrained fury, and she dared not speak for fear of being punished again.

If she even could, as bruised as her throat was. It wouldn't be surprising if she'd lost her voice from the damage, and she had little desire to try.

A quiet sniffle escaped them as they tried to keep the tears in their eyes from falling, but the sound of him stepping towards them jolted them out of their paralysis. They jerked their head up—it hurt, but being caught unaware was worse—, wide, terrified eyes focusing on his outstretched hand as they pressed themself as far back against the wall as was possible. He gasped, pulling their attention to his face for a brief moment—his gaze moving from their face to their neck, eyes widening slightly—before they remembered what he'd said and dropped their head.

He'd had feathers again. Just like before.

“I'm sorry- please don't-” She barely managed a hoarse, cracked whisper of a plea before her voice broke, leaving her coughing and whimpering from pain.

A breeze ruffled her hair, and when she hesitantly lifted her gaze from the floor again he was gone, a black feather drifting to the floor again where he once stood.

Seeing it again was the final crack in their composure. With a pathetic sniffle they started to sob, face in their hands as tears streamed down their cheeks. He hadn't hurt them again, at least, but they didn't understand why he was acting like he didn't know what had happened. It was burned into their brain—the terrifying, crushing strength of his hand around their throat, the sickening feeling of weightlessness as they fell, the sharp jolt of impact through their ankle, the pressure pinning them to the ground as he threatened to cut out their tongue the next time they spoke out of turn-

Wrapping her arms around herself, she slumped into a pathetic, sniveling wreck, desperate, heaving breaths wracking her shoulders and making her throat burn as she gasped for air through her tears.

I want to go home.

By the time they'd cried out all the water they'd managed to drink earlier they felt as if someone had taken a ladle and scooped everything from inside them in the same way one would scrape out a pot. Still the same shape, but completely empty inside aside from a bone-deep exhaustion—and of course the ever present ache of their injuries. They'd managed to crack the scab on their cheek from their sobbing, a small amount of blood beading on their skin that they wiped away with their tears.

… She should get something to drink, but the thought of shuffling to her washroom and back on her ankle—by this point she was fairly certain it was sprained, if not broken—seemed an insurmountable obstacle. Even trying to crawl back into her hiding place under her bed felt like a heavy task, and it wasn't like it would be any more comfortable, so she simply pulled her blankets around her and lay down where she sat, back pressed against the wall with the now returned door in view.

~~~

The chain around their throat was heavy as they knelt on the cold stone floor, trying not to shiver in their thin shift. Their legs were going numb, but they dared not move without permission—they were on a short enough lead already, a fact that distressed them as Juniper reached down to hook a finger around the chain and tug slightly. The loop around their neck tightened, pulling them off balance and causing them to pitch forwards, arms outstretched to keep themself from face planting.

“I don't believe I told you to move, pet.” His voice was falsely light-hearted, not even trying to hide the vitriol beneath as he twisted the chain around his hand before lifting her off the ground by it. She struggled, hands trying to slip between the links and her skin to get enough room to breathe, but every second that passed left her feeling weaker. Her vision went dark around the edges, lungs burning but unable to relieve it as her desperate writhing slowly died out from lack of air.

Jolting upright, they sucked in a greedy gasp, hands flying to their neck—no chain, but it still hurt, a dull ache as their breathing slowly started to return to normal. Allowing one hand to drop from their neck, they balled their fist in the sheets beneath them-

Wait.

She hadn't fallen asleep in her bed.

“I'm sorry.”

The unexpected voice made her flinch, attention snapping towards the source only for her to freeze in place like a mouse hoping the cat doesn't see it.

Juniper sat against the wall, as if he'd been keeping watch over her while she'd slept. There was a strange tension in his frame, looking as if he wanted to approach but was restraining himself. Why, she didn't know, but at least this time he appeared entirely human, no feathers or scales and on the same level as her.

“What?” They whispered, voice still raspy but less painful than trying to speak aloud.

“I promised to look after you and care for you, and you were grievously harmed. In my domain, no less.” As if it should be obvious. As if he wasn't the one who'd done it.

Directing their stare at the bedcovers, they balled their fists in the blankets. It was unwise to show anger towards him, he could decide to finish what he'd started at the drop of a pin.

“What happened, little one?”

Her shoulders trembled, but she remained silent, wrapping her arms around herself and keeping her gaze fixed on her blankets. Whatever he was trying to goad her into, she wasn't going to fall for it.

A light touch brushed their hand and they flinched, pulling away on instinct with a frightened gasp. He'd moved without them noticing, now kneeling alongside their bed with a hand hovering in midair for a moment before dropping to his lap.

“Please, Red.” Her name—one of them, at least—being spoken in that soft, pleading tone made her sniffle, even though she had cried all of the tears she had to spare.

“Don't know.” She whispered, shifting uncomfortably. Her voice was still rough, and it hurt to speak, but…

He used to make them feel safe. Had promised they were his, that he would care for them. They just wanted to feel safe around him again. They didn't know why he was doing this, but they were loathe to disobey him now.

“Just do your best.”

Worrying her blanket between her hands, she bit her lip for a moment as she tried to put her thoughts in order.

“Yesterday-” was it yesterday? “-went to do something. Came back mad.

“... said- shouldn't speak without permission.” Her voice broke, and she lifted a hand to touch her aching throat.

Why did he want her to tell him what had happened? Didn't he remember almost killing her?

Without turning their head they flicked their gaze towards him—he was looking at his own hand, a quiet horror in his voice. “I did this?”

That made them freeze—was that a trick question? They had been the one to disobey, to overstep, if they blamed him for their shortcomings he would be furious.

“My fault-” They blurted in a panic before breaking into a horrible coughing fit. It felt like their throat was full of nettles, scraping the delicate flesh raw every time they breathed, let alone spoke, and the coughing just made it worse.

“No.” He sounded angry even at the thought, putting a hand on her knee—she stiffened, but didn't pull away as he continued. “Nothing you could do would make you deserve this. I don't… I don't remember anything from yesterday, but it's clear enough I failed in my duty to keep you safe. And for that I am sorry.”

What?

“God of lies.” She whispered without thinking—but he looked more distressed than angry.

“Not to you. Never to you.” Heaving a sigh, he pulled his hand back—leaving her almost missing the small point of contact, a bit of stability in her confusion. “I wouldn't expect you to forgive me for this- wouldn't want you to. But I will do everything in my power to ensure it doesn't happen again.”

… It would be frightening, they realized, to find out that not only had you lost an entire day, you'd harmed your pet in the course of it. Or however he thought of them.

“I will go see if any of the others might know what could have caused this. You should eat, little one.” A bowl was gently pressed into their hands, full of warm broth, though they hadn't seen it before now. Regardless, their stomach growled at the sight of it—they were starving.

“I'll let you rest now, but if you need anything all you have to do is ask.” There was a sad look on his face as he stood, a hand briefly twitching at his side as if he wanted to touch her, but his gaze drifted to the bruise circling her neck again before he disappeared in a cool breeze.

The door was still there—if they wanted to they could leave, but crawling through the ever-changing rooms beyond with an ankle that wouldn't bear their weight sounded nightmarish. So with a little sigh they started to eat, careful and slow at first before hunger overtook them.

The broth was warm and seemed to soothe the ache in her throat some, making it a bit easier to swallow. Perhaps it was hunger from going more than a day without eating, but it might have been the best thing she'd ever tasted, and by the time she finished she was pleasantly full and once again fighting exhaustion. Setting the bowl on the floor next to her bed, she pulled the blankets up and laid down again to rest.

He hadn't wanted to hurt them. They were still afraid, of course—whatever had made him do so could happen again, and there was still nothing they could do about it, but at least they had some small amount of relief. Letting out a yawn, they closed their eyes, hoping this time they would be able to sleep without interruption.

No dreams disturbed her slumber, just the deep, dark tunnel of exhausted sleep.

Awareness came slowly, by degrees. She was warm and comfortable, enough she could have easily slipped back into unconsciousness had the waking world not continued to tug at her. A hand gently running through her hair was the next thing she registered, light enough it hadn't woken her but noticeable now as she started to stir.

Blearily cracking an eye open, their gaze slowly focused on Juniper sitting in a chair next to their bed reading a book while brushing his other hand through their hair. Glancing towards them, he paused when he saw they were awake before pulling his hand back.

“Good morning, darling. How are you feeling?” He murmured, book vanishing as he closed it with a soft clap.

That was a good question. She wasn't as stiff as she'd been before she'd gone to sleep, and her injuries weren't bothering her as much, but she could still feel them.

Poking her hand out from under the covers, she wiggled it in a so-so fashion.

“Do you need anything, or would you rather I leave you alone?” Well, if he was asking…

Trying—and failing—to suppress a yawn, they sat up and pointed at the door to the washroom, rubbing at their eyes with their other hand. Even though their throat was feeling a bit better, they didn't want to try speaking if they didn't have to.

He chuckled softly as he stood—the chair he'd been using disappearing as he did so. “As you wish.”

She let out a soft, startled noise as he picked her up bridal style—pausing at the sound, but she wasn't scared, or at least not overly scared. Just nervous. After a moment without any protest he started to walk, carrying her into the washroom before setting her down where she could lean on the counter for support.

“I'll be right outside if you need anything, little flower.” And with that he pulled the door closed, leaving them alone in the room.

They shuffled their way through their morning ablutions, before pausing to look at the bath. A warm soak would be nice, but would require them to ask for clean clothes—not to mention getting in the tub might be difficult with their ankle. And it would mean leaving Juniper to wait outside until they were done.

… Maybe just a quick bath. Between all the crying and sleeping on the floor she felt a bit gross, and would rather put as much of it behind her as she could. And this nightdress would probably have to be disposed of, ripped up and dirty as it was. She didn't have the supplies to fix it, and didn't much want to, either.

Looking at themself in the mirror after they disrobed was… uncomfortable. The bruising around their neck was an ugly dark purple, and there were several more bruises scattered across their body that had been hidden from view. A particularly nasty one on their side caught their eye, as they could see the hard line of where one of the stones in the courtyard had pressed into them.

Blinking away sudden tears, she hopped over to the tub, sitting on the edge and opening the magic tap to allow it to fill with water. A handful of pleasant-smelling herbs and flowers dropped into the water provided a distraction, and once the tub was full enough she closed the tap and slipped into the warm water, sinking down in the oversized tub until the water was halfway up her neck.

Letting out a pleased little sigh, they tipped their head back and closed their eyes. The warmth soothed the lingering stiffness as well as some of the aches from their bruises, and the nice smell helped them relax as they soaked.

It was a struggle not to doze off, but as the water started to cool she roused herself and sat up again. Pulling the stopper started the tub draining, and with a tight grip on the side she carefully stood, sat on the rim of the tub to shift her legs out, and shuffled until she could reach the cabinet with towels in it. Wrapping one of them around herself, she leaned on the wall until she got to the door again.

Clutching their towel to be sure it stayed in place, they opened the door just enough to poke their head out.

“Need clothes.” It didn't hurt as much, but still left their throat feeling a bit rough and raw. Juniper looked up at them, gaze fixing on a newly visible bruise on their arm for a brief moment.

“Of course, my dear.” His voice was soft and gentle, giving her a brief nod as he stood and headed to the closet. He was being very accommodating—not that he hadn't before, but it was still strange to her to have a god waiting on her hand and foot. Though she supposed it made sense, if he felt guilty for hurting her. Even if it hadn't been intentional… he still hadn't said if he'd learned anything from speaking with the others.

Distracted by their thoughts, they were startled when he held a bundle of cloth out to them. They hadn't realized he was back, and taking it required a bit of fiddling—leaning their shoulder against the wall to keep their balance while they held their towel up with one hand and took the clothes with the other. “Thank you.”

“You don't need to speak if it hurts.” Juniper murmured, pausing with his hand still in the air for a moment before dropping it and sitting back down in a chair that appeared out of nowhere. “But go ahead and get dressed.”

It was only polite to say thank you, she thought, closing the door and sitting down to hopefully make it easier. He'd grabbed another nightdress, the fabric soft and comfortable in her hands as she set it down to put on her underthings—and tried not to think too much about that. Once she was dressed she shuffled to get her good leg under her and stood, opening the door once again—he was already standing on the other side offering her an arm for balance, which she gladly accepted.

“Feeling better?” They nodded, most of their attention focused on the awkward hops that would be needed to get back to their bed—until they felt his arm move and they were suddenly swept off their feet, grabbing at him and letting out a startled yelp that came out as more of a broken squeak.

He froze at the sound, giving her a look that she would almost describe as panicked if she didn't know better. “Did I hurt you?”

She could practically hear the unspoken addition floating in the air as she shook her head. “Startled.”

Their heart was still racing as they tried to force away the jolt of fear that had spiked through their veins—they weren't hurt, he was just picking them up. So they didn't have to worry about their ankle.

“Alright.” With a final, searching look, he carried her back to her bed, setting her down as delicately as if she was made of glass before kneeling down alongside the bed. “Are you hungry?”

After a moment of thought she nodded—yes, but she also wanted to talk, and maybe get answers as to what had happened.

Once again, he produced a bowl of food from nowhere—this time some kind of oatmeal. It smelled good, and was still warm as he set it in their lap.

“What happened?” They whispered, tilting their head as they took a bite. He sighed, almost seeming to deflate as he looked away from them for a moment.

“... There are things much older than the gods, little one. And sometimes, they can… worm their way through the cracks. Most of us are able to shake off their influence without much trouble, but…”

Falling silent for a moment, his gaze once again drifted to her, and he reached out for a moment before dropping his hand again and leaning back on his heels.

“I was mortal once, did you know that? It would have been several centuries ago—an actor who caught the attention of a god.” That made her pause, spoon in her mouth as she gave him a baffled look. Humans could become gods?

Her expression made him chuckle, a brief smile crossing his face before he continued, voice growing somber as he went. “A few centuries is nothing—I'm quite young compared to most of the others. And… I was vulnerable. The old things, the ones that hide in the dark—they are older than you could imagine, and they feel the only place for humans is subservience. I suppose they thought I had been too permissive with you, and chose to make a point. And for that, I will never be able to forgive myself. I failed in my duty to keep you safe.”

… She wasn't very hungry anymore. Setting her spoon down, she wrapped her arms around herself in an anxious embrace—it could happen again. Whatever old thing had a grudge against her might decide to hurt her again, and there was little she could do about it.

“Would you want me to return you to your place in the mortal world?”

Their head snapped towards him in shock, words spilling from them without even thinking. “No! There's nothi-”

Breaking off into a pained coughing fit, they wheezed for breath as they hunched over, a hand clutching at their burning throat. The mattress dipped beside them, and after a moment hands gently settled on their back and shoulder.

And then, with a warm sensation the pain faded. Not gone, not entirely, but manageable—rounded over rather than sharp, jagged edges. Enough she could catch her breath again, blinking tears out of her eyes as she tried to settle her breathing.

“I'm not much of a healer, I'm afraid. It's not my particular sphere of influence.” Juniper murmured—he was tense where he sat next to her, as if he expected her to pull away from him at any moment. But whatever he was doing made her injuries feel better, so with a soft sigh she leaned against him and let her eyes close—and after a few seconds he put his arm around her shoulder to hold her close.

A comfortable silence fell for a few moments before he spoke again.

“I won't force you to leave if you wish to stay.” That sent a wave of relief rushing through them—they had little to go back to. Surely their place at the inn had been filled ages ago, and they didn't know if they would be able to find somewhere else to stay. “I simply wanted to give you the choice, if you… if you no longer felt safe with me.”

Their heart squeezed in their chest at his words, faltering and unsure, as if he expected to be rejected at any moment—as if he wasn't a god, with powers beyond their wildest imagination. They shook their head, curling against his side with a quiet whisper.

“I want to stay.”

She could feel tension drain from him after she spoke—it must get lonely without anyone around, and she doubted human offerings in his name were very common—, his free hand brushing a lock of hair back behind her ear and hovering for a moment over the healing cut on her cheek. “Of course, my dear. Whatever you ask.”

His hand was warm as he took theirs, brushing his thumb over the back of their palm in silence before speaking again.

“There are… options to heal your injuries. I could ask one of the others who oversees that domain, or I could simply continue to do what I can myself—you'll recover faster than normal, but I can't heal them immediately. Or…”

He paused, squeezing her hand slightly as he gave her a searching look before turning away, brows furrowed in thought.

“... I could give you ambrosia—food of the gods. It would heal you, but you would no longer be entirely mortal. And… that is not a choice I would ask you to make lightly.”

He was human once. Was it a choice he'd made himself, or one forced upon him? Did he miss it?

The thought of being around another god frightened them—he was permissive of their irreverent behavior, but they were well aware now that wasn't a sentiment universally shared. They didn't want to draw any more ire and risk a worse fate; bruises and scrapes would heal. And the thought of losing their humanity…

He was giving her a choice, at least. But the idea of it was beyond her imagination—would she be unaging, or simply immortal? What other effects might it have on her?

Would she forget what it was like to be human? That thought above all else terrified her—she had so few memories already, to lose what little she had might as well be the end of her.

Gaze settling on their intertwined hands in her lap, she squeezed his hand slightly before whispering, “Just you.”

He paused for a moment, but acquiesced with a soft sigh. “If that's what you wish.”

Of course, they knew he would have to leave them at some point to attend to… whatever duties gods had. But that had been when things had gone bad last time. He'd come back not himself.

“Something on your mind, little one?” He'd slowly been pulling them closer until they were practically sitting in his lap, his hand gently stroking their back—light enough not to bother any of their healing bruises, but still enough to feel. The question made them pause, trying to think of how to respond in as few words as possible.

“Been here- don't people need you?”

Pressing his face to the top of her head—a kiss? it felt like it, but surely not—, Juniper hummed softly before letting go of her hand to cup her cheek. “At the moment, there's a frustrated London playwright struggling with his next scene, but that's far less pressing than my acolyte being injured. He will find inspiration in time, and his works will be better for it. You, however, are in no state to be left alone.”

She opened her mouth to protest, though wasn't sure what she would say—he was right, she was injured and in a rough state—, but he pressed a finger to her lips before continuing—voice soft, with an edge of tension in it, almost like guilt.

“Darling, you can't walk. It’s my duty to care for you.” His touch was gentle as he stroked their cheek with his fingers, pausing for a moment at their jaw—no doubt looking at the bruise circling their throat like a collar.

The lightest brush against their neck made them jolt, recoiling and grabbing at their throat with a harsh wheeze—clawed fingers wrapped tight, cutting off their breath and lifting them from the ground as they struggled helplessly-

Gasping desperately for breath she curled into herself at the sudden flash of memory, but as the panic slowly faded and her breathing leveled out, her mind began to clear. Reality slowly slipped back in around the edges.

The faint smell of mint lingered around them, but they were no longer wrapped in a gentle embrace—raising their head, eyes wide, they expected to find he'd left them once again-

But her gaze quickly settled on his form sitting against the wall, eyes fixed on his hands—one curled into a loose fist and the other wrapped around his wrist. For a brief moment his fingers glimmered with a dark iridescence, but it was gone after a blink.

“I'm sorry.” His voice was quiet, soft with the kind of meticulous even tone that hinted to a great deal of emotion being forcibly restrained, dark gaze finally flicking up to look at them. “Are you alright?”

Well, they weren't hurt any worse than they had been. A little shaken by their episode, perhaps, but mostly alright. They nodded, a knot of guilt tightening in their chest—he had been trying to help, and they couldn't even manage to keep themself together. Surely he would get tired of it eventually, walking on eggshells to keep from frightening them. They were hardly of much use now, or even good company. And he had plenty of followers, even if few of them truly knew it. He had no real need to keep them around.

“M’sorry.” She rasped out, wrapping her arms around herself in a weak attempt at comfort.

“Oh, my dear. It's not your fault, I shouldn't have pushed so soon.” His reassurance didn't make her feel much better, not with the withdrawn expression on his face. She'd just messed up again.

Seems like the only thing they were capable of as of late.

Juniper stood, giving them a sad glance—these past few days were the most they'd been alone since coming here, and it seemed that they weren't the only one affected—before stepping towards the door.

“I should leave you to your meal.”

Right—the half eaten bowl of oatmeal was still in her lap, still lukewarm. She wasn't particularly hungry anymore, but she'd never been one to refuse food when it was offered.

But she didn't want to be alone, either. Being around him still left part of her nervous, flighty, expecting to be punished, but at least she would know if something happened again. Wouldn't be caught unaware.

“Please stay?”

He paused, hand on the door as he turned back to them with a searching look. Whatever he was looking for he seemed to find, since he dropped his hand and turned to face them.

“If that's what you want, little one.” They nodded, spoon in their mouth after another bite of their oatmeal. That put a soft smile on his face, making his way back to the side of the bed and kneeling down to gaze up at them before holding his hand out.

“Could I see your ankle?” He asked gently, head slightly tilted to the side in a way that reminded her of a curious dog. She hummed under her breath, carefully turning to the side so she could sit on the edge of the bed.

She hadn't actually looked at her ankle since she'd been injured. It was clearly swollen compared to her other one, stiff and painful if she jostled it too much, with an inflamed red discoloration. Juniper drew in a sharp breath at the sight, sitting idle for a moment before reaching out to wrap his hand around the joint.

“How did this happen?” They were pretty sure they knew what he was really asking.

“Fell.” It wasn't technically a lie—they did fall. After they were dropped, but that's still falling.

He sighed, bringing his other hand up to cup their ankle and resting his forehead on their knee. “I know that's not all of it. Omission is still a lie, little one.”

Setting her now-empty bowl to the side, she wrapped her arms around herself, worrying her lip between her teeth for a moment in thought. Her throat was starting to ache again, even with what he'd been able to do to help. Her ankle was feeling better now though, an odd tingling warmth suffusing it and loosening the tight pain knotted in the joint.

“...Dropped.”

He stilled, freezing so completely they couldn't even see him breathe—did he need to?—before looking up at them with a distressed look on his face.

“I'm sorry. None of this would have happened if I hadn't taken you from the mortal world.” That made them fall still, averting their gaze from his to the disheveled blankets at their side.

It wasn't like she'd had any other option. If he hadn't, the band of thieves who'd offered her to him may very well have just killed her instead. No witness left behind to identify them, and the blood spilt in his shrine would technically be a sacrifice.

“Would've died otherwise.” She mumbled, swallowing uncomfortably—the rasping feeling had returned, a dull ache in her throat that made it ever more apparent she'd pushed too hard.

His hands tightened around their leg, enough to send small prickles of pain through the already injured joint.

“I would never allow such a thing.” They flinched at the raised volume, curling into themself like a woodlouse but unable to pull free of the grip on their ankle. Dark feathers and sharp claws swirled at the edges of their vision, and they were so very small in the face of an angry god.

Thunder rumbled in the distance—the first change in the perfectly temperate weather since she'd been here—, but she was frozen in place, barely able to hear it over the echoing of her racing heart in her ears. Her chest ached, a suffocating tightness squeezing around her lungs as she trembled in place.

They were nothing but an insect in a maelstrom, an insignificantly tiny thing that could be batted away and crushed without even a thought. Hardly worth bothering with, let alone caring about.

Breathe.

She gasped, sucking in a lungful of air as the single word filled her mind and shoved everything to the wayside. The ache in her chest was steadily diminishing, and after a moment she realized there was a hand pressed flat to her breastbone.

“I'm sorry. You weren't breathing- I don't like doing that.” Juniper murmured, clear reticence in his voice. As their heart slowed to a more steady pace he pulled his hand away, redirecting his attention while they settled themself—another episode. Twice within an hour, now.

“What?” He'd done something to get them out of it, the command having overwhelmed the panic they'd been caught in. Was that something he was capable of? He'd never done it before.

“I can be… very persuasive if I choose to be. Especially to you.” He sighed, finally glancing up at her—still kneeling alongside her bed, as if she was the goddess and he a humble supplicant. “You were offered to me. Mine to do with as I wished. But I never wanted to force you into anything—whatever you did, I wanted it to be your choice.”

Chewing her lip, she mulled over what he'd said—and hadn't said. It was enough of an answer anyways, he didn't need to spell it out.

“Can make me not scared?”

That made him pause, brow furrowing in thought. “I'm… not sure. I wouldn't want to do anything I couldn't reverse. And if there was another incident…”

They didn't need him to elaborate. Some part of them knew he was being reasonable, but they were so tired of being scared—the creeping boredom from before was far more preferable than the constant fits and lingering dread in the back of their mind.

“Please.” Their voice cracked, and they knew they must've been a pathetic sight, battered and bruised with unwashed, unbrushed hair and tear stains on their face, throat aching from how much they'd spoken in the hoarse whisper they were restricted to.

And he rarely denied her anything she actually asked for.

“Oh, darling-” Juniper straightened up on his knees, reaching out with a moment of hesitation before gently cradling her face. “I'll do what I can, little one.”

Pulling her head down slightly, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before murmuring something against her skin. She couldn't hear what he'd said, but that didn't matter.

The effect was immediate, tension leaching from their body as they unconsciously leaned into his hands. Still awake and aware, but for the first time in days not carrying their fear and anxiety like a rock on their back.

“Better?”

Blinking her eyes open—she hadn't realized she'd closed them in the first place—she glanced towards Juniper before giving a small nod.

“Excellent.” Smiling gently at them, he brushed his thumbs over their cheeks before continuing. “If you're willing, I've also thought of something that could help your injuries as well.”

Tilting their head, they let out a soft, curious noise—easier than speaking, and it got the point across.

“Well- if you were small enough for me to hold, it would be simpler for me to help with everything at once.” He paused, gaze flicking to her neck again before glancing away as he dropped his hands to rest on her knee. “But… I can tell- those bruises aren't from hands your size.”

He was right, of course. She couldn't deny that. But what he was saying made sense—and the thought didn't scare her as much as she expected. A little apprehensive, yes, but the blind panic she'd experienced twice today was absent. Whatever he'd done to calm her was working.

And the promise of not hurting anymore was a tempting one. With a rough hum they put their hand over his, squeezing slightly to get his attention and giving him a small smile when he looked up at them.

“Alright, my dear. If you're certain.” He was quick to get to his feet, squeezing their hand in return before letting go to pick them up—though he paused before actually doing so. “It would be… easier in my chambers, is that alright?”

Another nod—only seeing her own room for the past several days had begun to grow tiring, even if it seemed like a sanctuary at the time. Or perhaps a prison—she still wasn't entirely sure why her door had vanished. If it had been the other, or something else.

“Door was gone.” She mumbled as he lifted her from her bed. “Thought- was bein’ punished.”

His hold tightened for the briefest of moments in response before he spoke. “The realm responds to the wishes of its inhabitants. I was unable to find an entrance until the first time I saw you, despite my attempts, and you are the only other one here.”

… Oh.

How long had they been able to affect things, they wondered. Was that how they'd gotten back to their room in the first place?

Juniper paused in front of her door, looking down at her with a steely expression. “I don't want to command you, but I need your word that you will tell me if you are uncomfortable or distressed. Understood?”

The firm tone in his voice was unusual, but they nodded, a shiver running down their back as they did so. He studied them for a few seconds longer before seeming satisfied, giving them a small nod in return as he opened the door.

A familiar wave of vertigo overcame her and she squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on breathing through the dizziness until it passed. It wasn't the worst she'd experienced, and faded fairly quickly as she shook her head slightly before blinking her eyes open.

Their breath hitched briefly, one hand clutching at their chest for a moment at catching a glimpse of the floor far below. If they fell-

With a quick, full-body shake she leaned back, closing her eyes again to try to calm herself. She hadn't even looked at him, just the height alone had been too much. But she wasn't insensate with fear, just a bit unnerved.

“Little flower?” There was a slight note of reproach in his tone—he'd told them to tell him if they were uncomfortable.

“M'okay. Just- high.” It wasn't a lie, they were more afraid of the drop than anything else. Keeping their eyes closed for the time being was probably a good idea.

“Alright.” Silence reigned for a moment, before his hands shifted around her. She bit back a startled noise, managing to quell her reaction to simply tensing as his hold changed to cradle her securely. Not crushing, but enough to keep her from feeling like she was going to fall, a solid surface at her back as he carefully stroked her shoulder with his thumb. “Better?”

They nodded, leaning into his touch with a quiet hum. Warm and—as long as they didn't see how far they were from the ground—comfortable, the now-recognizable soft tingling sensation of magic—?—soothing their aches.

The swaying rhythm of his steps made them perk up slightly, but he didn't go far before falling still once more.

“Hold on for a moment, little one.” His hold changed, pressing her gently against the solid surface at her back as gravity shifted until she was lying down rather than sitting. “You should be able to look again.”

Blinking her eyes open curiously, she peeked out past his hands—now cupped over her like a cave—to find Juniper laid on the bed in his chambers, with her placed squarely on his chest. The floor was now thoroughly obscured by the expanse of sheets, but the difference in elevation between them and where she was perched was small enough to not unnerve her.

“It was more comfortable than standing, and not as high for you.” They could feel his voice rumble through his chest as he spoke like a distant roll of thunder. With a little hum they sat down, leaning into his hand and peering up towards his face.

Still looked human, despite his size. The incident was the first time he hadn't, at least that she was aware of. She'd been blindfolded when she was offered to him, however long ago that had been.

“Had feathers. N’claws.” They murmured, gaze dropping to their hands as they wrung the hem of their nightdress. Their voice was still rough, but it didn't hurt as much to speak at least.

He was silent at first, a dark look briefly flashing across his face but his touch was gentle as he brushed his thumb over the healing cut on their cheek. “I can, if I so chose. Ravens and snakes are my sacred animals.”

That made sense, they supposed. As much sense as anything else here did—it wasn't as if he was human anymore, and ancient gods were sometimes shown with animal traits.

“... I do want to know what exactly happened.” She snapped her attention back towards him, a hand drifting to her throat subconsciously. Of course he did, he would want to prevent any further harm to his pet.

“Not immediately. It can wait until you've recovered.” He carefully pushed her arm down with a finger before cupping his hand around her back, stroking her shoulder lightly with his thumb. “Right now you need rest.”

With a quiet hum they lifted their hand to touch his thumb—he went still as they touched him, but didn't pull back. They didn't push him away, just wanted to ground themself a bit.

A yawn interrupted her thought process, and they felt him chuckle under his breath. The multiple nights of poor sleep seemed to be catching up with her, as a sudden weight seemed to settle across her entire body. She rubbed at her eye with the heel of her palm, pausing for a moment as he ruffled her hair with a finger.

“You look tired, little bird.” The hand draped around them felt heavier, encouraging them into lying down and curling up on his chest. Some still faintly nervous part of them wondered if he wasn't making them feel so tired, but even if he was they no doubt needed the sleep anyway.

She yawned, letting her eyes close and beginning to drift along with the up-and-down motion of his breathing and rhythmic sounds of his heartbeat as he stroked her back. It was nice to feel relaxed and comfortable again, not hiding away and terrified of making a misstep.

… He breathed?

Cracking an eye open, they shifted to look up at him, quirking their eyebrow and patting his chest in a silent question.

“Yes?” He looked confused for a moment, and they put their hand against their own chest and took an exaggerated breath. His face lit up in understanding, before looking almost embarrassed. “Ah- I thought something a bit more human might help you be more at ease. I can stop if you want.”

Oh. That was thoughtful.

Shaking her head with a little smile, she snuggled back down under his hand, letting out a content sigh and closing her eyes again. A nap sounded nice, especially now with the aches from her bruises and scrapes softened and distanced by his magic. And once she stopped holding on to consciousness, she was quick to slip under into a warm, comfortable, dreamless haze of sleep.

#i expect you to vore #ieytvore #not really but those are my tags so.#story #writing #gt writing #angst #hurt/comfort #giant/tiny

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