#gt hurt comfort

[gtzel]

I really needed to draw some vent art, and I ended up making this

[kodared]

✰ Stanford & Borrower/Anomaly Reader ✰

fears not enough they have to tear him apart.

Chapter 1/?

Wordcount: 2,057

➤ 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! - ★

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58879087/chapters/150070549

The cottage you moved into was poorly constructed and had many openings to various rooms because of the peeling wallpaper. It was partially why you chose to reside there after many weeks of venturing the forest once your parents kicked you out. 

You lived with your parents in a tree until they decided it was time for you to make your way in this world. Oh, how you could imagine the looks on their faces if you told them the mess you got yourself into this time. 

Your family chose the safety of trees and burrows rather than living in the walls of creatures that could kill you without so much as a flick of a wrist. 

You wouldn't call yourself one for adventure, quite the opposite. Humans terrified you to your very core. You’ve been a first-hand witness to what they are capable of. When the cottage was in the process of being built you watched many trees torn and splintered by their impossibly large machines. 

You rather despised humans. What you didn't despise however was routine and having access to food much easier than foraging. 

Life in the cottage was relatively peaceful, it was about as peaceful as you could get for being only a few inches tall. You swore your species was doomed to fail if it wasnt for humans influence. 

The scientist who lived in the cottage was paranoid, that much was obvious. Even when you first moved in after being kicked out he stayed up much too late and consumed too much coffee to be considered sane. You brushed it off because, after a few days of scoping out the walls of the cottage, you realized he had a very precise schedule that made borrowing easy. 

He would wake up early, and go to bed late. Usually uttering to himself before going down into his basement to do who knew what. It gave you a lot of time to yourself, and a human with a predictable schedule was hard to come by. Most had kids or animals, both very dangerous to someone like yourself. Fortunately, this human only seemed to have one friend who came around periodically, but they stayed downstairs. 

You had noticed that night you were running low on thread and crackers, and the human was in his basement. Of course, night turned into day much quicker than you predicted. 

The shock and horror of hearing the vending machine door open while you were in the middle of climbing up into his shelf literally by a thread still shuddered through your body even now. 

…So what if you screamed and ran off despite him shouting for you? So what if you have to move homes? It didn't even matter much to you that when you let go of the thread you landed on your foot and wrist wrong. 

The faint memory of his hand reaching for you did rattle you to your core, despite how much you insisted you could escape him even if he did grab you. 

The way his eyes bared into your very soul, the way even his shadow in the early dawn lighting engulfed your entire body. Your shaking hands as you pried the loose wood plank off the wall just as you could feel his body heat emitting from his hand radiating on your back. 

… 

 …You push the memories away lest you give yourself another panic attack. You tried to not let it bother you much, though you would miss the plentiful amounts of jellybeans and other snacks he kept on the shelves. 

No. What bothered you the MOST was the fact every little detail, every little move you made before you ran off into the wall, was now being documented. 

You looked down from the crack in the wall with a grimace. There was a foul taste in your mouth as you saw the human below taking vivid and rigorous notes while sitting at the kitchen table. His pen scratched the page so hard you believed it would rip. 

The red journal he carried with him was the bane of your existence. If any information about you or your species was going to become mainstream, it would doom your life as you knew it. Not to mention shatter any dreams you had of a normal life. 

You weren't in any position to do anything about it yet. The effects of the adrenaline pumping through your veins were slowly ebbing away. Leaving a dull ache in your head and a nasty sprain on your wrist and ankle. 

With a sigh, you pushed off the wall and made the long trek back to your room. Deciding that before leaving, you had to get rid of the page in his journal. He had to leave it unguarded at some point. 

Your room in the walls wasnt much, but you spent a lot of time working on it. You hollowed out a space inbetween a few support beams and insulation and put a few pieces of cloth on the walls. 

The pin cushion you called a bed practically screamed your name as you pushed your makeshift cloth ‘door’ open. You broke off a piece of a cracker you swiped a few days prior and shoveled it into your mouth before collapsing on the bed. 

Getting that journal was your only hope. Ignoring the chalky residue left in your mouth by the dry cracker sleep soon found you. 

… 

That man did not leave his journal for one moment. 

It's been two days since your last encounter with the human. You tried so hard to stay patient in the walls and bide your time until you could get ahold of the cursed page, but your rations were running short. 

So you threw on your satchel and stabbed a needle in your pants just in case he was out. You used to not carry it, but you weren't taking any chances. 

Pressing your hands to your eyes you tried to gather courage as you walked in the dark pathways of the walls. You tried not to think about what would happen if you were caught by the scientist. 

You’ve seen him take creatures like yourself down in his basement, and they never come back up. 

Despite this, you still for whatever reason chose to stay. You wished you never stayed. More than anything you wished you had just found a nice, abandoned burrow like your cousin had, and stayed in the woods. 

In your frustration you kicked a piece of rock, it hit a nearby pipe with a satisfying twang. 

There were more predators in the woods but atleast they would just kill you. There was no telling what the human would do if he caught you. 

Taking a deep breath you consoled yourself, if you played your cards right and stayed out of sight this would turn out like it usually did. 

You would take a few crackers and leave, that's all you had to do. 

As you pressed your hands against the wall and shakily pushed, you felt the loose wood disconnect with a satisfying crack while you poked your head out.

You squinted as the bright light from the kitchen flooded into the wall and onto your face.  

Everything seemed completely normal, which should have relaxed you, but it merely put you more on edge. 

This human wasnt normal. There was no reason everything on the countertop was tidied away. He usually left dishes in the sink, and from where you stood you saw none. 

You where about to slink back into the wall and go out a different time before you heard his voice. 

“...It was bipedal!- have you ever-” 

You were quick to pull yourself back into the wall, your hand slipping on the wood and giving yourself a splinter. You sucked in a breath and held your yelp as you heard footsteps coming closer. 

“I know, you haven't stopped talking about it for three hours..” 

The other human's voice sounded southern, you recognized it as the main resident's friend, or ‘associate’ he sometimes said. 

You could hear them picking up various glasses and cups, if you had to guess the humans were probably making more coffee. Your hypothesis was only confirmed as you heard the cursed machine whirr to a start. 

You finally let out the breath you were holding as you felt the splinter that now lodged itself in your palm. Wincing as you continued to listen. 

“I know, I just wish I was able to capture it! I could put a more accurate sketch, what if its the only one of its kind?” 

Predictable as always. 

“Ford, I'm sure you already went scarin’ the thing half to death. I wouldn't be shocked if it left,” 

Ford. The scientist was named Ford. As you picked at the splinter you internally berated the name, yours wasnt much better but atleast your parents loved you enough to not name you Ford. 

…Maybe you where being a bit mean. 

“I doubt it, more than likely I can catch it again early morning. It seemed shocked I was there, it more than likely has a schedule it keeps to.” 

Or maybe you weren't mean enough. Seriously who did this guy think he was? You had half a mind to march out of the wall and stab his stupid hand.

You didn't bother listening to the rest of their conversation, too preoccupied with picking at the splinter. Trying to pull it out with little to no light proved itself to be difficult. 

You could head back to your room, but the string lights in there had limited battery, and you tried to save it for only special occasions. 

To your relief, the pair left a few minutes later. Only when you heard the vending machine door clunk shut did you press against the wood plank. 

Using the small sliver of light provided you pulled the splinter out with your nails, flicking it away before turning and looking at the counter. 

…He left a dish. 

A dish in front of where he last saw you. A dish full of various snacks, ranging from two jellybeans to crackers and cheese. 

You weren't some domesticated house pet. You scowled at the dish as if it had personally scalded you before walking past it. 

You walked quietly despite there being no reason to. Wishing you had your fish hook and thread to get up on the higher shelf. 

You could manage without it though. You only made it a few months prior so you were skilled enough to find some scraps on the counter usually. 

To your dismay, though he seemed to have done a thorough cleaning, and without your hook you had no way to reach the shelves above to gather your food. 

You pressed on and walked over to the sink, careful to balance on the edge. You looked at the faucet and walked over to the handle. Gently and carefully push it just a smidge before taking out a small thimble you used for water. 

After drinking your fill and putting the thimble away, you turned the water off. 

…Not fully though, he could deal with a leaky faucet for a few hours. 

You where going to go back empty-handed until your stomach growled looking at the crackers he left out. 

Surely taking one wouldn't hurt, if you left a message. 

You picked up one and stuffed it into your bag, contemplating taking a jellybean but deciding against it. Right before you went into the wall you kicked the dish off of the counter. Shattering on the floor with a satisfying clatter. 

Snickering to yourself you slinked off into the walls. You’d check back on the human that night to see if he left his journal on his desk this time. 

… 

A few hours later Ford had finally gotten to a stopping point with his research. Thoughts of the little creature in his walls beckoned at his mind as he rode the elevator up. 

He sent Fiddleford home with a goodnight before practically sprinting into the kitchen, seeing the mess left by the mischievous thing. 

One thing on the counter caught his eye in particular. 

As he picked it up he examined it thoroughly. 

A small splinter of wood, ever so slightly tinged at the edge with red. 

“...Fascinating..” 

---

Thank you for reading!! Ill more than likely be updating this when i can, but be assured Chapter 2 is already being written with plans for three others!

Hope you Enjoyed!! My Askbox is always open if you want to hear me ramble more about borrowers! V●ᴥ●V

[stanlees-stuff]

"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 >:]

[afraidparade]

comfort

[original-person]

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

[belethlegwen]

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.

[narrans]

Stellar Allies | Part Two

GT July | Stellar Allies | Part Two

Words: Grit, Warmth, Foggy, Experiment, Honey, Lost, Doubt

It was mind boggling. Was this actually happening? There was something that looked like a weird spaceship in the form of a cylindrical tube the color of liquid mercury with a tiny figure inside – an alien.

Jax and Cliff both simultaneously reached up and pinched their forearms, mirroring the motion as if it were planned.

Swallowing the nerves that was making him tremble, Jax carefully secured the tongs onto the edge of the silver cylinder and began pulling it away from its original crash site. Cliff said nothing and instinctually maneuvered out of the way so that Jax could pull the ship in between the two of them safely away from the flames.

The looked down, gawking at what was inside. There, inside of the silver cylinder, was a six inch tall figure. Their limbs were limp, and they were wearing what looked like some kind of black mesh and leather flight suit. Cliff counted two arms, two legs, one head, and most interestingly another limb that made him think it might be some kind of tail. There was a dark helmet secured to their head, but it was obvious there was a crack along the surface.

Is that what was causing some of the hissing sound? Or was it just the ship? Cliff wondered as he crouched a little lower to examine the ship.

Tiny lights flashed and blinked all around the padded interior. Symbols on a screen flashed intermittently, but neither boy had any indication of what that could mean.

“Is it… dead?” asked Jax as he began reaching the tongs forward. Cliff was about to scold him for using the tongs on the figure, but was relieved when his friend merely grabbed the edge of the cylinder and gave it a little shake.

Both boys nearly leapt out of their skin when they saw the most minute movement from the figure’s chest and the head twitch subtly. They knew it wasn’t because of the movement of the cylinder that caused the movement, meaning this alien was alive. Cliff’s fascination was making him tingly all over, and the shaking in his friend’s shoulders told him Jax was feeling the same way.

“Dude!” hissed Jax. “There’s an alien. A freakin’ alien! Do you know how dope this is!? We might be the first to make contact with an alien species.”

“Allegedly,” grinned Cliff. Both boys exchanged an amused look, having read up on dozens of conspiracies and “abduction accounts” during their research, before turning their attention back to the figure.

“Do you think it’s hurt? Can it even breathe oxygen? All of these things are leaking and stuff, and we do not have the equipment to make an environmental chamber suited for it if it doesn’t breathe oxygen at our atmospheric levels,” fretted Cliff. Jax noticed the crack in the alien’s helmet and his brow furrowed. He was obviously trying to think of a good solution, as was Cliff.

“Okay, let’s assume for a second that it can breathe oxygen. I’m basing this off of the fact that it took us thirty minutes or so to get here and this ship-pod thing has probably been open this whole time. Unless this thing doesn’t abide by the rule of threes, it can probably breathe in our atmosphere,” stated Jax.

His friend was right. Cliff remembered the rule of threes being three weeks without food, three days without water or sleep, three hours in a harsh environment, and, the most important for this argument, three minutes unconscious without breathable air while unconscious.

“Okay, assuming these things are true,” added Cliff. “Then we can assume that this ship-pod thing wouldn’t open if the environment wasn’t ideal. I’m basing this off the fact that a species capable of interstellar travel would have the tech and wherewithal to make sure a survival pod wouldn’t open in harmful conditions.”

“So, at the moment, we’re assuming the alien is stable,” concluded Jax. Cliff nodded affirmatively. “Okay, then the next big question is what do we do next? Assuming the online conspiracy theories are right and everything, the government might want to experiment on the little guy. On the other hand, this might be part of a scouting mission or invasion force. This is just starting to get complicated, and I don’t want this thing face hugging me in the middle of the night and implanting little chest bursting aliens in my throat.”

This was ultimately the biggest question they had to contend with. Was there a “right” choice? They were far out of their depth when it came to preparedness and knowledge. It was a judgment call which had countless unforeseen repercussions.

What was the right thing to do?

Cliff chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought, a nervous habit that often left him tasting iron by the time he came up with a solution. Both points Jax made were valid, but it was clear to him which one felt like the right thing to do; and he had the argument to back it up.

“I think… we take our chances and bring him with us back home.” Jax’s eyes widened as he listened to his friend’s words. It was obvious, even beneath the mask, that he was about to interject, so Cliff continued. “Hear me out. Just look at this tube for a second. Do you see any weapons? Do you see anything on here that might indicate anything other than life support? And what about our little alien companion? Any weapons? Side arms?

“I think this whole thing is supposed to be an escape pod and that our little alien was either in danger from his crew mates and had to evacuate using this escape pod or something happened to the original ship, which is probably the bigger chunk of burning mass that was falling from the sky that we thought was a meteor, like a technical malfunction. Either way, I think at least this little guy here is safe. This is just a theory though. I could be horribly wrong, but that’s what my gut is telling me.”

Jax listened patiently to his friend’s logic and, after a few minutes, nodded.

“Your argument is sound enough, but on the off chance this guy has acid blood or some kind of weapon, is there something we can… I don’t know… put him in for the time being?” asked Jax. Then, his eyes brightened. “Wait, our experiments from last year. We’ve got those plastic containers.”

“My thoughts exactly,” concurred Cliff. “We’ve got those ULINE poly tubs and, worst case scenario, mom has some catering equipment in the shed that is probably acid resistant. Until then, we’ll just have to take our chances.”

Their nerves set back in as they suddenly realized what it was they needed to do next – transport the alien. Both of them with their backpacks were prepared to move rocks, not miniscule alien beings. Still, they had few options available at the moment.

“Okay,” said Jax finally. “I’ll do the transportation and we’ll keep him at your place. Mom is inspecting my room tomorrow to see if I’ve cleaned so now is a bad time for me. If something bad happens, we tell parents and everyone who’ll listen. Yeah?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” breathed Cliff. Jax, obviously shaking, removed his backpack and shifted some of his things to Cliff’s bag to give the most space possible for the space pod. The boys worked together to tape part of the pod open so it wouldn’t close on the figure or accidentally seal shut during transportation.

They also tried to secure the figure by gently laying some of their emergency duct tape along the opening across the figure’s legs and chest and securing it to either side of the opened pod. The moment of truth came and Jax’s brave face was threatening to crack. It was Cliff’s reassuring bump on his shoulder that really pushed Jax over the edge and away from his uncertainty.

Using his heat resistant gloves, Jax lifted the pod off of the ground and slid it into his backpack, using what little padding he had as well as his jacket to make sure the pod didn’t jostle around too much.

The entire time, the figure only stirred twice, but made no additional movements even as Jax zippered his pack shut. Before leaving, Cliff made sure to tamp out all of the smoldering brush to prevent potential environmental hazards.

And with that, they were off. Neither of them knew what was going to happen or how they were going to navigate the countless decisions before them. One thing they did know was that this decision felt right, and they had their logic to back it up.

They could only hope they were right.

~~~^*^*^~~~

Warmth.

Foggy.

Groggy.

Pain.

Cold.

Confusion.

Ol’oih wasn’t sure which thing he felt more. The confusion of everything leading up to him blacking out felt like a bad dream, and the pain in his body made the experience real. It was a souvenir of recent events, and it wasn’t a pleasant one.

He could’ve sworn he heard voices at some point, but he couldn’t be sure. They were loud and booming, but also muffled. Was that because his hearing was damaged? Was it his life support helmet? Or was this actually how the voices were supposed to sound?

There was a fair amount of jostling all around him and, at some point, he was once again stationary. Every element of training told him he needed to be awake and aware, but his body was absolutely no help in this endeavor. He just needed to rest to heal and, ultimately, that was the logical choice too.

Ol’oih knew that he would be no use to himself or any one of his crew mates if he was incapacitated and hurting. So, he relented and let himself sleep.

When he returned to consciousness, however, he wasn’t sure if he had made the correct decision to rest. For a moment, he thought he was still beneath the night sky until he realized that the “stars” above him weren’t stars but merely beams of light. He was surrounded by darkness all around except for the little dots of light above him.

Another thing he noticed was that his helmet had a massive crack along the screen, breaking the airtight seal and exposing him to the atmosphere. He thanked Ove silently that this atmosphere was a friendly one and not something that was toxic. He’d be out of luck if that were the case. The rest of his limbs felt intact, albeit stiff, and he was laying on something that was soft that wasn’t the safety of his escape pod.

A thousand questions came to mind.

What happened when he blacked out? Where was his crew? Were they alright? Were they the ones who found him? Or did something – someone – else find him and bring him here? Had he been captured? Was he now someone’s experiment? Or had he been rescued from the crash? Where even was he? Had they even managed to crash near the rendezvous point?

His body thrummed nervously as he allowed his feelings of doubt to overwhelm him before taking two deep breaths, as he had learned in his training, before collecting his thoughts and worrying about one problem at a time. It was all he could do. Getting through this was going to take grit and determination, and laying there being afraid was not a luxury he could afford at the moment.

First problem was his ability to see. His vision was still a bit foggy, but that probably had something to do with his helmet and the lack of light around him. He had something for that, but he’d need to remove part of his suit. It was a risk he needed to take.

Ol’oih extended his arm forward, feeling it twinge slightly, to make sure he wasn’t going to sit up into a wall or ceiling. Confirming his surroundings, Ol’oih cautiously sat up and detached the clasps keeping his helmet affixed to his suit and pulled his helmet off of his head.

Now free, he realized he was feeing a bit woozy. He hadn’t had anything to eat in who knew how long and would need to consume something soon if he was going to survive. Everything cost precious energy, even what he was about to do to see his surroundings, and he needed to ration correctly if he was going to get out of this ordeal alive.

His body thrummed again, but he shut down his feelings of nervousness as he focused on the task at hand. Ol’oih reached up and removed one of his protective gloves and concentrated on the ciferi in his hand. Like he’d done so many times in his youth, the ridges leading from his core to the tips of his four fingers began to glow a soft green, illuminating the space around him.

What he saw made a pit form in his core.

All around him were portless, doorless walls with odd ridges along the top which undoubtedly latched the roof to the rest of the structure. Nothing else was in the containment unit other than what Ol’oih was sitting on, which resembled a type of white growth similar to this planet’s moss. The item didn’t seem alike like the white growths from his home, so he elected to stay sitting.

Being close enough to touch the walls, Ol’oih hesitantly gave the wall a push. Though it didn’t give easily, there was an element to it that was extremely synthetic as well as flexible. With the right nudge, Ol’oih thought he might be able to use it to his advantage.

I need to measure the space and estimate how tall this thing is. If whatever put me in here is hostile, I need to be able to jump out if I can. It’ll take energy, so I need to use my opportunities wisely.

So, with that in mind, Ol’oih stood and walked to the far wall. He pressed his back against it before walking at a steady pace from one side to the next, using his gate as a measurement. He repeated this for the width and then reached as high as he could to guestimate the height of the container he was in.

Okay, twelve ambas wide, thirty-seven long, and probably twenty or so wide? 8880 sambas. Great. I won’t run out of air, plus the holes in the top should allow air inside. No suffocation. My standing jump is twelve. Running might be fifteen? Using my addon, I could probably hook it along the top and swing to get out if I really needed to.

Last resort though. Lots of energy to do something like that. Plus, that’s if I need to escape. If I can, I will communicate my intentions. About time I’m able to practice my practical language skills. Years of study and simulations finally paying off.

Looks like being a communication ensign actually is coming in handy.

This thought made Ol’oih tremor nervously. Though everyone had basic language in the program, he was the only one of their crew who was fluent. If the others were in trouble, they’d have no true way to communicate.

In the middle of his swirling thoughts and feelings of being completely and utterly lost, Ol’oih was suddenly interrupted as the entire container around him shifted. The sudden jostle threw him to the side and then to all fours as there was a cacophonous cracking sound.

Juthez! Out of time to make a plan. Can’t pretend to go back to sleep. No sense in that. I need answers and assistance. Looks like communication is my only option. Juthez! Please be friendly.

The thrumming wracking Ol’oih’s body was making him feel completely sick and cold, but he knew this was necessary. The doubt in his mind would have to be pushed to the side for the time being. Skill alone was what he had to rely on, and he could only hope it would be enough.

~~~^*^*^~~~

Both boys had managed to make it to Cliff’s home without disturbing his parents. Jax was the one brave enough to lift the six inch tall figure of the alien out of the pod and into the plastic storage container while Cliff arranged a towel for a bed, arguing that it would be cruel for the alien to just be on the hard ground when he could be injured.

Jax went home and immediately cleaned his room while Cliff kept the storage container under his desk with the lid fastened securely. He tried going back to sleep, but knowing there was an alien mere feet from his bed was enough to keep the teen away from sleep for the next week.

It would be hours before Jax reached out saying his room had passed inspection and another twenty minutes before Cliff’s parents were awake and preparing to go to work. He’d asked if it was okay if Jax came over, to which his parents agreed as long as they didn’t perform any science experiments.

Cliff felt like he was lying by omission by saying he and Jax wouldn’t be doing any science experiments since they would be investigating the alien, but he deemed that as a scientific investigation and not an experiment and agreed. With his assurance, his parents left for work and Jax was over within minutes.

He had barely crossed the threshold before the questions started coming out.

“Has the alien woken up? Have you checked on him? Do we know if it’s a him? What if he doesn’t wake up? Are you as stoked as I am because I’m literally vibrating all over!” Jax’s inability to contain his excitement was hilarious and he quickly pulled his friend inside his house.

“Dude, just take a breath. Yeah, I’m stoked too, but we need to chill. If the alien reads emotions and stuff like that, he might get spooked. This is a friendly check-up and possible exchange of information, possibly with the first alien in history. Oh, who am I kidding, I’m shaking all over. I couldn’t even go back to sleep,” grinned Cliff.

“Me too!” Jax’s grin was stretching from ear to ear. Cliff knew his expression had to be the same to the point his cheeks were starting to hurt. “So, do we check on him now? Or what?”

“Only logical,” agreed Cliff. “If he’s still passed out, then we can investigate the ship, which is still safely under the bed. If he’s awake, we can commence Operation: First Contact.”

“Nerd,” teased Jax, getting the reference immediately, as both teens made their way to Cliff’s room. What started as a confident stride immediately shifted to cautiously optimistic steps as they shuffled into Cliff’s room and crouched by the hard plastic crate. As carefully as they could, they pulled the crate out from under the desk.

As they did, both boys felt the crate jostle subtly, as if something fell over, and let their excitement override caution as they cracked open the top of the crate. Light flooded into the crate, and, for the first time, they saw someone looking back at them.

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

Continue

Previous

Beginning

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

@gianttol #gtjuly #gtjuly2024

[munchkin1156]

Listen. Listen. LISTEN.

Zombie apocalypse with G/T Headcannons!

(Let me have my fun guys, come on-)

. . .

-Borrowers are already incredibly agile and smart, needing to avoid humans daily, but with zombies it's much easier, since they are slower, and less smart than humans! And they probably wouldn't even notice borrowers, they're only after human brains

-Lots of abandoned food and scraps for taking, plus no need to worry about beans! Mostly

-Get caught by a human? Easy! Just pretend to be a zombie! A foolproof plan that definitely won't make you get thrown across the room like a tennis ball!

-Borrower who already lives with humans teaching them how to scavenge and save food

-Group of borrowers fighting off zombies who enter their territory

-Borrowers who leave traps for humans and zombies to get caught in

-Borrower who borrows from a secret underground resistance against the zombies and gets caught trying to trick zombies to come into the humans base so that they can have all the supplies for themselves

-Borrower who gets caught by a human who was pretending to be a zombie to prank their friends the borrower thought it wouldn't care about them since it's a zombie

-Avian borrower who taunts the zombies so that they don't chase the humans and then they get caught because they got hurt and now the humans are freaking out oh no

-Borrower who thought they got caught by a human and is now best friends with a zombie

-giant zombies that are sixty feet high but ignore humans because their brains are too small

-tiny zombies that sneak into your house and bite you while you sleep like mosquitoes

. . .

Aaannddd that's all I have for now!

If anyone takes inspo from this, please tag me, I'd love to see what you guys made!

Speaking of tagging...

@i-am-beckyu for tagging! Idk if anyone else wants to be tagged, tell me if you do, and I'll gladly add you!

[corysmiles]

would you ever consider writing bg3 g/t fearplay from the tiny’s perspective? maybe gale or wyll? im a sucker for characters that aren’t intimidating or scary being seen as terrifying from the tiny’s perspective.

YES ABSOLUTELY!!

Here is Gale fear play as a treat, Wyll will come soon >:)

——————————————————

Tav was used to being around the wizard.

It was only about a week into the whole tadpole predicament when Tav was noticed by the much larger people at the camp, and Gale had been one of the first in support of keeping the tiny with them. They’d been terrified of the group at the time, but the tadpole in their brain still called to the gigantic figures. And as scary as some of the giants were, they were all relatively careful and kind…aside from the vampire of course. Although even his teasing got better eventually.

Gale, however, was easily one of the least intimidating giants Tav had ever met.

The man never held them without permission and almost all conversations with him led to some discussion of magic or what it was like to be so small. He was curious to his core, and while he was fascinated by Tav’s stature, he was never disrespectful.

All in all, being scared of Gale, the most gentle giant they’d ever met, seemed like a ridiculous if not impossible notion.

That was, until they remembered how strong he truly was compared to them.

It was late at night when goblins snuck into their camp. Astarion noticed first, jumping up from his trance to alert the others. Tav barely had time to wipe the sleep from their eyes before they were harshly grabbed, warm skin squeezing tightly around them.

“Hey wait,” Tav yelled as they tried to push their way free, but the hand just grabbed tighter, making it hard to breath and causing theirs limbs to ache.

They tried to get their bearings, taking a gasping breath as they managed to push their head free, “Fucking hells, let me go!”

But the hand only wrapped around them tighter, squeezing their chest painfully causing a sharp pain in their lungs. They fought as hard as they could but it was no use, and after a few seconds of being crushed they were haphazardly thrown into something dark. A pocket…

All around them they heard yells and movement as the fabric twisted around them uncomfortably, but no matter how much they yelled they didn’t get a response. They twisted to try to orient themselves but every time they managed to sit up they were knocked back down again.

It felt like hours before it finally stopped, and Tav was shaking head to toe. The sounds around them died down as the person keeping them captive stopped moving so frantically. It was over.

“Hells…” a familiar loud voice exhaled from above them as a hand reached down to them…the same hand that not too long before had squeezed them so tight they feared they’d pop.

Instinctively they winced and flinched away, trying to avoid the grasping fingers. However, there wasn’t much they could do against someone so much larger than themselves. They kicked and scratched as the tight grip wrapped around them, gentler this time.

When they were pulled out into the light of the camp they were met with a familiar face- Gale, bloodied and breathing hard. And although the sight of him was usually a much wanted comfort, Tav’s lungs froze in their chest.

“My apologies for grabbing you earlier,” Gale started with an apologetic smile, “There was quite a bit of panic.”

Tav tried to process the man’s words, but their whole body was frozen. They felt like they were stuck in glue, and all they could move was their eyes.

“Are you alright?” Gale asked in concern, his brows furrowed together.

Tav wanted to respond, they really did, but it was like they had no control over their own body. Their mouth felt dry and their brain screamed at them to run.

Before they could even process it they had bolted upright and dashed to try to jump out of Gale’s hand. But the human was faster. Before Tav could get away the fingers closed over top of them. They yelped and covered their head with their arms, anticipating the moment he would crush them, but it never came.

“Woah there settle down,” Gale said in a hushed voice, “Are you alright? I apologize if I startled you earlier, but I didn’t want one of the goblins to find you first.”

Tav just shook in his closed fist, anxious to get away from the man. In the back of their head they knew Gale was safe, but at the moment, a much larger part of them felt like a cornered animal facing off against a wolf.

“I…” Gale paused, “I’m sorry, if I scared you. I promise it wasn’t my intention.”

As he said it he slowly opened his hand revealing to the shell-shocked tiny that they were now in the man’s tent. They were carefully placed down on one of the many pillows the wizard kept before the giant man backed away, hands up in reassurance.

“I won’t touch you again,” Gale frowned, “I promise. But I need you to breathe.”

Tav’s breaths still came in panicked gasps as they stared up at the giant man. They retreated back into the soft pillow as much as they could, and waited, eyes piercing into Gale’s own. The wizard seemed lost in thought for a moment as he studied the tiny’s reactions.

“Did I hurt you?” Gale asked after a moment, voice cautious and low.

It took a few seconds for Tav to build up the courage to respond, but when they did their voice was barely audible.

“It was…it was too tight.”

Immediately, Gale’s eyes widened in a flash of recognition. He took a step forward towards the tiny as if to comfort them, but paused when he saw their tiny form freeze.

“I…I’m quite sorry,” Gale mumbled, “I…fuck…I know what’s done is done, but I truly did not intend to bring you any harm…I admit I could have been more cautious but I suppose I wasn’t thinking.”

Tav watched as the man visibly shrunk in on himself; they could see the tightness in his stance like a band ready to snap.

“You can sleep somewhere else tonight,” Gale says again softly after a minute of silence, “You don’t have to stay in my tent, I’d understand.”

Tav took a deep breath as their eyes met the wizard’s. In the back of their mind they realized they had never seen him so upset before.

“No,” Tav responded, barely above a whisper, “It’s…it was an accident. I don’t know why I’m reacting like this I just…it hurt.”

Gale swallowed nervously, his throat bobbing, “And I could never apologize enough for that.”

Tav nodded in response, their movements stiff as their brain finally slowed its constant stream of run, run, run. As the panic wore off, Tav finally started to relax into the pillow under them. Gale really did look devastated.

“I just suppose I forgot,” Tav said slowly, “You all are much larger than me, but I’ve become so used to it I forgot anything could ever go wrong.”

Gale nodded in response with a sigh, “And I forgot you’re much more delicate than you seem.”

An uncomfortable quiet filled the tent as the two both searched for something to say. And although Tav felt much calmer than they had moments before, a deep part of them still feared their giant friend.

“It’s not your fault,” Tav finally managed to get out through dry lips, “You were just trying to help.”

Gale frowned at that as he finally took a step forward to sit down on the ground. Now closer to the tiny’s level, his eyes searched them like he was looking for something.

“But I still hurt you,” Gale said.

Tav grimaced at the man’s words and nodded, “It’s okay, I forgive you just…please be more careful next time.”

Finally a soft smile spread across the giant’s face as he exhaled a long sigh, “You know I was quite hoping there wouldn’t have to be a next time.”

For the first time that night Tav felt themselves relax, truly relax. As much as it had scared them they knew Gale meant what he said. The wizard was still kind, after all.

Tav nodded in response as a yawn escaped their lips, “Well, I’m beat after all that. And you look like shit, so I think it’s bed time.”

Gale laughed softly and shook his head, “Yes I do believe so.”

Carefully, he pulled himself into his sleeping bag, making sure not to jostle the pillow Tav was laying on. His movements were still stiff, like he was nervous the tiny would try to flee again if he moved too fast, but neither chose to say anything about it.

The proximity to the giant felt less comforting than it had in previous nights, but as Gale’s breaths evened out Tav let themselves relax. He wouldn’t hurt them, not on purpose.

And even if they still flinched whenever he shifted in his sleep, in their heart they knew that fact was true.

[kodared]

✰ Stanford & Borrower/Anomaly Reader ✰

fears not enough they have to tear him apart.

Chapter 2/?

Wordcount: 2,684 / 4,741

➤ 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! - ★

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

[goblinunderabridge]

I love size swaps 😥😥😥😥

[afraidparade]

"A Kinder Reality"

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

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

__________________________

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

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

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

At least now…he wasn’t…

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

Wasn’t there supposed to be someone else there?

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

Was this…real? Had he actually woken up? 

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

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

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

Again. 

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

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

“…ka?”

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

“What happened?”

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

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

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

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

What would he do if he lost Faust?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

What?

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

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

Faust was a terrible singer.

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

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

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

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

 “It did. Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Heh heh! You’re welcome.”

[pool-floatie]

Tall Tales Part 2.

OK! Back by not-so-popular demand and more just because it was finished and I wanted to, here is part 2! Dont expect this frequent of updates all the time, I literally just have the first 3 or so chapters written just waiting to be edited and I got my first comment! Which inspired me to want to post this (before I forget thank you @gt-daboss!!)

Sheltering the small human in one hand held against his chest, Jace continued toward his destination, his enormous strides cover the distance quite quickly, but the journey still took a while, the sun neared its horizon and Jace couldnt help but stare.

"Av, have you ever seen the sunset from this high up?"

Avril slowly lifts their head up, shaking it 'no'

" You have to, its breathtaking!"

The human sighs, curling up tighter into themself.

"aww come ooon"

Jace pokes them

"Avriiil, knock knock~"

He gently pokes their head, -they look so cute when they're angr-

Gaah!!-

"shit! Did you just b i t e me?!"

Jace yanks his captive up by their shirt, Avril shrieks, they scramble to grab their shirt for dear fucking life. Staring down at their death sentence.

Avril doesnt hear the behemoths scolding, their ears ringing and vision starting to go fuzzy.

They begin to hyperventillate as they dangle helplessly at they giants mercy.

Avril cries out " putmedown !" their words being shouted between breaths

Jace rolls his eyes and snickers, "What, not enjoying the view?"

The ground, 80 ft below, seems to rush toward them.

-Im gonna fucking die I am not ok shit shit shit- Av thinks as their gasping breaths become more audible. Tears slip from their eyes.

Jace is enjoying its panic, helping to relieve his anger, but oh boy, he wanted more...

"aww, ok if you insist~"

With a flick of his wrist the human is sent flying. Avril tumbles through the air, feeling the wind rush past them, they dont even notice the shriek that tears from their throat.

-oh, im going to die.-

tears fall from their closed eyes, and Avril slips into unconciousness

Jace playfully tosses the human up, it lands not so gracefully in his waiting palm.

" whoops ~" he teases

Jace looks down,

"heheheh, you good short stack?" the human doesn't move or make a sound.....

Oh.

Oh shit.

Jaces face quickly turns panicked as he realises his tiny captive might be fucking unalived

He lays its lithe form in his other hand, places a finger to its stomach, and, feeling small breaths rise and fall, He lets out the breath he didnt know he had been holding.

Jace felt its face, it was wet, he realised, from tears.

Shit shit shit.... Jace, you fucked up.

Jace takes a deep breath to calm himself. He lifts av's shirt to see if any injuries or blood loss could have caused unconciousness, , , or fatality , , ,

Staring down, he sees it's bruises.

It's arms, legs and midsection had bruised spots where jace had so carelessly slammed his hand down. And on it's middle where he had plucked it up holding it tight.

-Oh fuck, jace you scared the living shit out of it, and hurt it, and probably traumatised it, it wasnt trying to ignore you it was probably having a panic attack, you asshat !-

Jace ate at himself as he speed walked, trying not to jostle the human and aggrivate any injuries.

He just hoped it would be ok...

(Timeskip 20 minutes)

Back at jaces "home" (just a clearing in the woods with some fallen trees and boulders)

Avril was beginning to stir, Jace heard a groan of pain, and then a little cough from behind him and turns to see tired eyes, looking around, groggily wondering wtf was going on.

Avril has had a rough few hours.... They are glad to have had some rest, and do not entirely remember where they are... Or if those few hours were only a dream... Wait , , ,

Av tries to sit up, but finding that painful, they lay with their eyes open, looking around they realise that: A; they are in a quite large clearing in the woods, surrounded by a kinda scratchy cloth.

And B; those past few hours were, in fact, all to real.

Av turns their head to see the giant they had had the /pleasure/ to meet not too long ago.

Their eyes widen.

Ignoring the pain, Avril Jolts back, they sit up, knees to their chest and pull the cloth up to their eyes to hide themself.

The human was finally awake!

Jace approaches the rock it had been placed atop for safekeeping, crouching down, placing his elbows on either side of the rock, Jace smiles down at it.

-it looks sooo cute wrapped up in that jacket~!-

The human, especially fucking terrified, curls into itself as Jace speaks above them.

"Hi there, glad your awake again :)"

He trys to sound less threatening, however he is looming over them, and almost literally has their life in his hands, sooo....

"......"

the human shifted a bit but did not otherwise answer.

Frowning at its lack of response, jace tries again.

" how are you feeling? " he questioned.

Avril, now realising they needed to answer, checked up on themself, unfurling a bit to feel everything.

"... I- I'm, i'm, f- Fine .."

Ah, yes. I, too, would be fine after being kidnapped and manhandled.

"Hurts anywhere ?"

" uh- um.... " the werent sure how the titan would like them to answer...

Jace reached out a hand towards it ,wanting a better look.

The tiny jolted, startled.

"n-no- !" well, giving no answer was definitely wrong. Avril ducked under the cloth, their only security.

Jace sighed and peeled back the cloth of his jacket, revealing the shuddering thing, it squeaked, seeing him take away its "shield"

Jace looked down pityingly at it.

"Little one, lemme get a look at'chu'"

The human cowered, letting out little whimpers as jace reached for it. Jace was more gentle now, he placed one hand behind it and scooped it into his other palm, he could feel its shaking.... Gently , he stroked its head, it didnt do much to calm the human, only making it clench up more.

With a huff, jace stood, and began to push its shirt up its back, the human retaliated, it screamed "n-n-no,, please d- dont--!" and shoved their shirt back into place before resuming their egg position.

"-Im just gonna check on your bruises, calm down."

Jace pushed the shirt up again, now with minimal resistence from his tiny captive. Jace could now see the purpling bruises where he had grabbed it,,, his calm face faltered, again seeing the pain he had caused to such a little thing... Jace lightly ran a finger down the tinys' back, not sure who he was comforting with this action...

[gtbutterfly]

Quincy and the forest giant

(this was written before I came up with the title)

I'm gonna try coming up with a real name for this story later. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it, criticism is appreciated.

Here's the previous part,

CW: angst, threats, mild squeezing,

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

It was twenty or thirty minutes later. Ella moved me in front of the window to see the rain. It was pouring outside, the water turned the dirt to mud and left splashes in the lake. The wind howled through the branches and blew sticks and what was left of the leaves around with the water. Lightning would flash every so often with the roar of thunder, which didn’t seem too loud given the footsteps of the giant that had taken me. I turned towards her to ask something,

“I’m…really stuck here until tomorrow?”

“I’m not any more happy about it than you are, kid,” the giant said, leaning on the window still. “They can’t control the weather, so you’re just gonna have to wait it out.”

“Um…what will happen until then?” I asked,

“You just, stay here I guess,” Ella said, before sighing. It was awkward being alone with her. She clearly didn’t want anything to do with me, and I was too scared of her to try making conversation. So we just sat around in silence. I guess eventually she got fed up with it because at one point she tried talking to me.

“So…what were you doing when you saw me?” ‘Ella asked,

“Uh, why do you ask?” I said,

“Just wondering. Y’know, kids like you shouldn’t really be up that late,” Ella said,

“um…I was star gazing…I have trouble sleeping sometimes…” I said, looking down,

“Doesn’t your town have a curfew or something?” The giant asked,

“I was doing it from out a window…” I said, before realizing something, “How do you know about the town's curfew?” Ella was silent for a moment. She looked almost embarrassed at what she just said, how she revealed something she wasn’t supposed to. Then she sighed.

“You know what I said about asking those kinds of questions,” Ella said. There was a pit in my stomach as soon as she said that. I backed away from her, remembering the threat from earlier.

“I…I’m sorry, I didn’t….I don’t……please, I…”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, you not in trouble this time,” Ella said, “it's my fault for bringing that up in the first place.” she sighed again. “All I’ll let you know is that they give me news about what happens in that little town of yours. That's all I’m telling you about my job or why I’m here, nothing else. You already know too much, so don’t ask.”

“Um….so…..what can I ask about?” I asked,

“Anything that isn’t about what I am, or who I work for, or what I do, or why I’m here,” Ella said, “and nothing annoying,”

“Um…so….what do you…” I think about how to phrase this sentence for a moment, “what do you do apart from work? Like…to pass the time?”

“Books, radio, playing cards, going on walks…” the giant answered.

“Um….were you…on a walk last night?” I asked,

“No, I was….” Ella sighed, “that's not important,”

“Ok…” I nodded. Whatever she was doing last night must have had something to do with her job, which she doesn’t want me to know anything about. I decided to change the topic,

“So…I'm guessing you don’t have any…technology…here…”

“It would just break here, anyways,” Ella said,

“...break?” I asked. Ella was silent for a moment again. I heard her cursing to herself before looking back at me.

“Do you know what an EMP is?” she asked,

“...no?” I said.

“Good.” Ella turned away from me with her arms crossed. I looked up at her. She looked stern and closed off. The room went back to silence, as more rain hit the windows and thunder roared outside. The lights would dim and brighten occasionally from the weather. I swallowed my spit and spoke again.

“Is this place…usually like this?” I asked,

“What are you talking about?” Ella said,

“...quiet……”

“Well, it would be, if you weren’t here,” the giant looked down at me.

“Don’t you ever get….bored? Um….lonley?” I asked,

“I’m fine alone,” Ella said. “And my job keeps me from being bored,”

“....um…” I paused for a moment, “...sorry, it’s kinda hard…not to ask about your job…”

“Well maybe just don’t ask about anything,” She said,

“....do you just….live here alone?” I asked,

“Alright, I’m sick of this,” Ella said, grabbing me off of the window sill. I nearly fell as she readjusted her grip around me. She carried me back to where the couch was, but kept me in her hands as she sternly stared down at me with her massive eyes.

“Now I’m going to ask you some questions, how does that sound?” She asked.

“I…uh,” I could hardly get my words out. Her thumb was wrapped around my arms, and her other hand had a tight grip on my legs, preventing me from kicking or squirming.

“So, you're an orphan, right? How’d your parents die?” She asked, clearly just trying to be insensitive towards me on purpose.

“Uh, they went missing in this forest…when I was a baby….” I said, not wanting her anymore angry at me anymore.

“Interesting, do you have a last name, Quincy?”

“Um, I think they said…it was Mora…” I said, “Q-Quincey Mora,”

“Any idea what happened to your parents when they went missing?”

“N-no…no one does…” I said,

“Really? No idea?” She said as if being rhetorical, “Do you think something like that could happen to you? Like, you could just go missing, and never be found, and no one would know what happened to you?

“Um…maybe?” I answered, my heart now racing. She squeezed her hand around me more,

“Would you want that to happen to you?” she asked, bringing me closer to her face,

“N-no ma’am,” I said, my head spiraling in fear. “Did….are you…what made those people go missing?” she squeezed me tighter for my question. I let out a small yelp of pain.

“Stop asking things, Quincy. You know I can make you regret it very easily,” Ella said, still stern, glaring down at me almost with disgust. “Don’t make things worse for yourself. Just stay quiet, and stop asking questions, kid. If you do, things will be worse for you. Much worse. Understand?”

She said that last part with such malice. The sound buzzed through my throat and my lungs as she spoke just feet away from me. I hesitated to speak.

“i…I…but…”

“Do you understand?” she repeated herself, even louder and more harshly than before. Her voice caused my heart to drop. She squeezed me harder, to the point where it actually started to hurt. My eyes widened in fear and pain.

“OK! OK, I’M SORRY! PLEASE LET GO OF ME, PLEASE!” I yelled.

“Alright then,” the giant said, dropping me out of her hands. I landed on my arm, the couch barely cushioning my fall. I immediately ran and hid behind a pillow on the side of the bench. I lost control of myself, I started crying and holding my body, shaking in fear of the giant looming over the large pillow I was hiding under.

“Geez, overreacting much?” Ella said before she heard me weeping. Wait, are you…crying?” She stood up from the couch and got on her knees, looking at me in between the pillow and the side of the couch it was leaning against. I backed away from her, still crying. She started to look guilty,

“Hey, I didn’t mean to make you that upset, I just..” Ella paused for a moment, while I kept crying, “I wasn’t acually going to hurt you or anything like that, I just..I was fibbing, I just didn’t want you to ask me those things. Just, come on out of there, ok?”

The giant reached towards me. I backed against the back of the couch and hugged my legs while covering my face with them. She looked even more sympathetic than before.

“Hey, I..I’m being honest, I don’t want to hurt you, really. You’re just…” she paused for a moment like she just realized something. “You're just a kid.”

I kept crying. She sighed and looked down, before getting up and walking away from the couch, leaving me to cry alone.

[racheyace]

Master Post

Here is the links to all of my G/t writings and dribbles. Thought I'd make it a little easier for everyone to have them all in one place, and I'll try to remember to continue to add any new ones!

Luke and Matt Stories:

Luke is an emotional size shifter and has been since he was about six years old, the only person he confides in his secret is his best friend Matt. Luke and Matt's stories are a compilation of short stories from heroic adventures to boyish shenanigans, lots of fluff and some angst.

Why Can't I Be Normal

Mr Luke Gulliver

What The Actual...

Just a Tiny Little Peek

Home

Matt's Nightmares

Another Nightmare

A Shifty Hero

Be The Hero

Running Into Fire

What's Wrong With You?

Superhero's Don't Get Sick

It's a Small World AU

Being Super isn't Everything

Luke vs The Boyfriend

Broken

Lightning Ridge

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

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

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Other shorts:

Meeting the Family

Moon and Emerich Stories:

Moon

There's Something You Don't See Everyday

Mixie Stories:

Rain and Grief

Overprotection

Autumn Breeze

Other G/t Stories:

What a Circus

Sick Day

Imagination

Storm

Enemy Territory

Strawberries and Sprites

Mayday

Not a Horse

[narrans]

My Borrowed Son | 38 | Epilogue

Chapter Thirty-Eight | Epilogue  

Time is one of those funny things in life. One second, you’re learning to walk as your consciousness comes online. You’re exploring the world around you and learning new things. Decisions come your way and, like the butterfly effect, branches into an entirely different life. In the very next moment, you’re sprinting toward your dreams and building a life for yourself full of adventure and excitement.

Both Amanda and Parker were right there in the middle of it all. Though both of them might have made different decisions in the moment, neither would change where they were now.

After meeting Rey and Hero and hearing about their story, Parker felt his optimism growing once more. The two Borrowers met his mom, Amanda, with enthusiasm and listened to the story of Amanda’s “borrowed” son, a title both of them thought was amusing. Rey and Hero also told Amanda about their sister-in-law, Ashlynn, and how their niece’s situation was very similar to that of Parker. The girl, Mayzie, was just about Parker’s age and had grown up as a child of both worlds and she couldn’t be happier, though navigating the world was sometimes confusing and challenging.

They talked about how, like Parker, Mayzie as well as Dorian and others in their Borrower community had online presences. They even showed Amanda and Parker Dorian’s music videos. At first glance and without knowing he was a Borrower, neither Amanda nor Parker would have known, which Rey explained was the point.

“The world isn’t ready for us to all be together and know about one another, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t have glimpses like these videos or our writings. Even some of our inventions from my business with my friend, Theo,” said Rey. “And I’m pretty sure we’re not the only ones. Take a look at Tay Models online and tell me it’s not a Borrower-human team. That and my business partner Theo are great examples of what we could do together if Borrowers and humans could live together in harmony.”

“Yeah, as much as I want us to all live together in peace and harmony knowing about one another, not everyone will treat us the same even though we are so similar,” Hero explained.

They spent hours talking on the first day, and they continued for the next week while Rey and Hero rested before their next trek back into the wilderness. Before they left, the two Borrowers invited Amanda and Parker both to come and see the community they’d built, saying their doors would always be open if either of them ever wanted to come by. They needed time to return but left their contact information and said they’d be in touch next time they were in the neighborhood.

Sure enough, a month later Parker’s discord chat and social media pages were flooded with follows, likes, and comments from what Parker could only guess was the Borrower community Rey and Hero talked about. It was confirmed when Rey reached out directly just to say hi and that if Parker needed anything, this is where Parker could reach out.

During that month, Parker poured himself into his studies and his training. His physical skills were enhancing by the day just like his mind. With everything he learned, Parker tried to find a way to teach others and make life for Borrowers better. From engineering and medicine to the basics of math, English, and science, Parker began developing lessons and blueprints for others to understand.

His lessons began with the others in the house. It took time to convince everyone that what he had to offer was useful, but eventually most of them yielded. Parker’s reasoning was that he was learning from them, so it was only fair that they learn from him in return. Reading was the first thing Parker started teaching since that would be the most useful, and everything else fell into place from there.

Reed and Dove were the most receptive to Parker’s lessons and Mira tried to help and follow along while the others mostly humored the Borrower teen. It was progress though, so Parker took it. It would take months to really get the ball rolling, but everything Parker had learned was slowly being integrated into the others.

A real moment of pride came when Parker happened to come into the room to hear Dove actually trying to read to her older brother, Finnick, with one of the miniature books Parker had printed out and cobbled together.

Before he knew it, Parker was graduating alongside his girlfriend, Lyn, and making plans to attend a college. The scholarships he accepted gave him his pick of the litter, but Parker found a program that would give him the best of all the subjects he was interested in. Science. Technology. English. Art. What made it better was that it was all virtual. He could attend all of his classes and submit his assignments under complete anonymity.

The other Borrowers in the house were uneasy that Parker had decided to continue delving into his “human side” rather than fully committing to being a Borrower, but the only one who actively commented on it was Kit, who Parker found out from Finnick later that she was being so mean to him because she actually had a massive crush on him.

For a sixteen year old boy, it was a strange phenomenon for girls to be mean when they actually were interested in you, but Parker left it alone. He was happy with Lyn; at least, for a time.

College was a trying time for their relationship and, to Parker’s dismay, Lyn’s affections had ended up shifting. The distance between their two different colleges and the things she wanted had changed, leaving both of them heartbroken. Nothing was necessarily wrong, but it just wasn’t completely right.

It was heart crushing, and it did leave Parker adrift for a time, but never did he start letting his studies and interests suffer. During that time, Parker had just turned eighteen and, with some intense discussions with his mom, decided he wanted to take a kind of sabbatical and go with Rey and Hero to the community they talked about many times during their visits.

Amanda wasn’t certain about it and set some firm rules about contacting her as soon as they had arrived, to which he agreed. Their discussion lasted several weeks and, finally, Amanda consented. The journey was going to be a difficult one and the last thing Amanda wanted was to see her son hurt. He still had faint scars from his last encounter with the outside world.

But Hero and Rey assured her that they’d keep her son safe and that she was always welcome to drive over to Ashlynn and Soren’s place and wait for them and visit.

This did make Amanda happy, but it was still surreal.

This was her son. This was her pride and joy. Remembering the first time she’d seen him and now seeing him all grown up was an emotional rollercoaster. Tear stains dripped onto Parker’s pack as he turned and told his mom that he would see her again very soon.

Sure enough, it was true.

Amanda gave them a week before reaching out and contacting Ashlynn, who had already been told the entirety of her and Parker’s story. The two were fast friends, sharing many of the same concerns with their kids and how they were progressing through life, and soon Amanda and Ashlynn were having coffee together as they waited for their modern adventurers.

Parker, with the help of Rey and Hero, had an entirely different experience from the last time he was truly roughing it while camping. They showed him where he needed to be and what he needed to look for to keep himself and others safe. They taught him practical skills where Parker found ways to integrate what he’d learned from school to the wilds around him.

While the adventure was a needed one, Parker was grateful to see the yard that belonged to Ashlynn and to see his mom’s car in the driveway. One tearful reunion later and Parker was being shown the entire community that lived in the walls of the home. Parker witnessed their recording studios, manufacturing tables, and modern construction while also getting glimpses of the old ways and the “traditionalists.”  

He was seeing new faces and being introduced to so many new Borrowers all at once; and one of those faces made him blush and smile from ear to ear.

All the while, Parker was making mental notes on how he could make the world around him better, and he knew exactly what he could do to make it happen.

It was a rough decision, but Parker decided to go home but promised that he would return as frequently as possible. He had some applications to fill out.

Now that the need was obvious, Parker made his decision. While also writing and continuing making his lessons to teach other Borrowers and tutor humans with his online lessons, Parker decided that he needed to learn more about medicine. Too many Borrowers suffered from sickness and ailments that Parker believed could be fixed. Amputations were far too frequent on limbs that could easily be saved and infections from rusty pipes and other random odds and ends were a common occurrence.

Having someone who knew what they were doing when dishing out medication was an immediate need not only for the community Parker met, but other Borrowers who lived out in the wilds; and Parker intended to meet those needs while pursuing his passions.

It made Parker realize that he would be spending more time away from his mom, which made him feel sad. This was the one person he never wanted to leave or disappoint, and now he needed to do one of them to help make his dreams come true and make the world a bit better. He came to his mom with a heavy heart after his first semester in a virtual medical program he found and told her his plans.

He’d almost expected some pushback, but it was almost the opposite. Amanda couldn’t be more proud of her son for delving into his passions, regardless of what they were. She knew she’d never lose contact with him and reassured him that he was always welcome home. Amanda told him that it was part of being a parent to give your kids the skills to go out into the world and live the life they wanted. Of course, she always wanted him to be around and stay with her, but she didn’t raise him to be timid and to stay locked away forever.

Amanda assured him that she would be okay and both of them promised that they would have a weekly check-in when the time came to make sure that everything was alright. In the meantime, Amanda would take up more things to occupy her time. She’d even considered becoming a foster parent now that Parker was all grown up, which made both of them tear up.

True to her word, Amanda registered as a foster mom and welcomed kids in need into her home. She’d had a lot of practice helping Parker recuperate, so human kids almost felt easy. Amanda also took up a few hobbies including watercolor and writing since Parker was becoming more independent by the day. She even started illustrating her own children’s book series about a little lost boy who had found himself in a world of giants.

Parker also decided to write the story for himself, using the “correct terms” and making his book seem like a work of fiction inspired by writings from Mary Norton. It took a long time for Parker to compile everything together and summarize all of the events. After all, how do you boil down an entire lifetime of stories into a single set of pages? But he did, and the title that Rey and Hero had dubbed as Parker’s story was too good to pass up. With the help of his mom, their story was finally complete. Perhaps it would be seen as fiction. Perhaps others – humans and Borrowers alike – would see this story and believe.

And so this is it.

This is the story of “My Borrowed Son.”

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

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