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ravetillyoucry · 22 days ago

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PUPARIA

Chapter 26 - half return

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Hosah hadn't expected airports to be so tiring. Despite sleeping for a short while in Teddy's hand before they'd need to make their merry way, clearly the flight's take off in the early hours of the morning wasn't doing him any good.

It was best to stay small for as long as he possibly could before they'd go, otherwise he'd just suffer longer with a severe case of the itching. On the outside, being five foot seven inches tall was normal, it seemed like it would be Hosah's default height, but it wasn't, and he'd acknowledged that a while ago. When he wasn't tiny, he'd yearn to be. His muscles tickled uncomfortably under his skin, beckoning him to shift again, to ease the aching and the pulsating in some way. It hurt, chronically, but he could deal with that. It was the itching that drove him crazy.

"Our seats are separate from my family's, if you need to, you can just.." Teddy's voice trailed off as he spoke, tilting his head, as if the shifter knew what he was going to say.

He did, Hosah was just far too sleep deprived to cooperate.

"What? No, I'll be alright. I need to get used to staying like this for longer anyway, it's not sustainable, y'know, shrinking all the time." Hosah spoke far louder than his counterpart, enough so to prompt the frantic gripping of his shoulders with a hush from Teddy.

He looked around, specifically for someone, before turning back to Hosah, "Quiet, he's onto us."

"Who, Dean?" The shifter scoffed, pulling himself out of Teddy's now gentle grip, "I don't care if he finds out- hell, it's not a secret. He can ask me about Arthur Emily all he wants."

"I don't want him to ask you. It's.. It's wrong, these things are supposed to be confidential." The change in stance from Teddy was surprising to say the least.

Hosah tilted his head, his scoff turning more into an amused smile, a curious one at that, "Since when did you defend the rights of Arthur Emily? You hate that guy, right?"

"I find him grating in every way of the word, but... I'm put off by Dean in a different way." Teddy kept his hand rested on the shifter's shoulder as he looked out for his brother in law.

"Why, because of what he said? About shifters?" Hosah couldn't help but push, poking the bear until he'd get an answer that satisfied his curiosity.

"Maybe.." Teddy was far too distracted to give an in-depth explanation on why exactly he didn't like Dean.

Now that he thought about it, it was rare for Teddy to hold high opinions of anyone, really. He didn't like Arthur Emily for his abuse of power and cowardice when admitting to doing so, which was a fair point, he didn't like Scotty because he was a dick, which was also a rather fair point- he didn't like Jules, or Dean, and he'd only recently had a good word to say about Jeanne. It almost made Hosah feel flattered to be in his good books, but it also awoke a deep paranoia within him that he couldn't shake off.

The feeling of being observed at any given time had ruined his life completely, to the point where he even found himself second-guessing Teddy in his nature. A little voice in the back of his head, asking if his disdain for so many of their peers and associates was a tactic, to isolate Hosah, to plant the seeds of distancing himself into his head, to make it so it would only be himself and Teddy in their inner circle by the end of it. That wasn't the case, it couldn't be, there were plenty of things to prove the idea wrong, like all the people Teddy did in fact enjoy to be around that weren't the shifter, but he still sometimes found himself with no thoughts to distract from that little voice.

"That was really cool, by the way, what you said to him." Hosah smiled, this time out of genuine endearment, ".. D'you remember what you said forever ago, about how I should give inspirational speeches or something, cause I say cool shit on occasion. I think you were projecting, because that, that was cool-"

"You don't need me to speak for you." Teddy put it bluntly, his head still turned away, eyebrows furrowed in focus.

It was difficult to not be disheartened whenever Teddy spoke particularly bluntly. Nobody could be expected to keep up a kind and gentle demeanour 24/7, and it was hypocritical for Hosah to expect as much when he himself did a fair share of snapping at his partner, but it still hurt. The good thing was, he didn't need to vocalise it for Teddy to catch on.

He turned around, his expression softening a fair amount, "Sorry, my heads all over the place. But, really, that wasn't something I really came up with myself. You're my inspiration, I suppose. I was trying to embody you when I said it."

"Stupid.. Just take my compliment, don't spin it back on me." Hosah couldn't contain his happiness at the statement, giving Teddy a jab in the ribs to make sure his point got across.

"Hey, I'm serious. Really." It was nice to see him laugh for a change, "Speaking of inspiration.."

Teddy let go of the shifter, shuffling around in his backpack for what seemed like an eternity, before he found what he was looking for, it seemed.

"I brought my camera. I mean, you, the Italian countryside, that sounds picturesque, no?"

There was a plethora of things Teddy hoarded. Train tickets were a big one, and so were pieces of fine china, and old watches he promised he'd take to a watchmaker to resell for more, but always ended up saying he'd gotten too attached to do so. The most important thing Teddy seemed to hoard, however, were photos. Albums upon albums, with every picture he'd ever taken. He must've spent half his monthly wage getting them printed, on film and various other things to keep his half a dozen cameras in good shape.

The backstory for his love of photography was a silly one, if Hosah was recalling correctly. His mother made a great attempt at landing him a job in the modelling agency she was under, but he ended up working with the photographers upon arrival rather than her intention of utilising his face for what it was born to do, to be photographed.

"God, stop it, whenever I think you can't possibly get any cheesier." Hosah let out a deep breath of what he assumed to be exhaustion, but there was a good chance it could've also, just partially, been a relief at his partner's own relaxed nature.

It felt wrong to be so happy in the moment. To share laughs, to look forward to the trip in general. Hosah had long let go of any morsel that remained of his religious beliefs, but it had to be some kind of divine disrespect to think of a death as a good opportunity.

These sort of moments of relaxation, of stillness and serenity, always seemed to be cut short in one way or another. Whether it be Dean's invasive nature, or the fact they had a plane to board, something always got in between the two.

To say Hosah had never been outside of the country before, never mind on an airplane, he took it all surprisingly well. It wasn't like he wasn't used to such a change in altitude already, to be lifted up higher than he could perceive, to feel the weight from under him be lifted entirely. It was strangely comforting in a way, a sense of familiarity when he couldn't shrink to a comfortable size. What was most relieving was the fact they were away from Teddy's family for a period of time, even if it made him feel guilty for thinking it, the stress of being around such a cast of characters weighed heavily on Teddy in particular. That much was obvious.

Hosah had heard plenty stories of his partner's grandfather, but still, he soaked in his uncertainty, even in the car from the airport to Teddy's family's farm, the unease just wouldn't wash away. It was a different sort of discomfort, he wasn't afraid of being around insufferable people like before, he was afraid of not being liked by the man. That was strange, Hosah usually couldn't care less what others thought of him. Nonetheless, he'd push it down, catching up on some sleep in the rental vehicle.

He hadn't expected to dream when he rested his head against the car window. He rarely dreamt during naps, his dreams were prolonged and vivid, when he napped, he could never get deep enough into unconsciousness to conjure up anything. It seemed lately that anything and everything was capable of completely evading his expectations. Things had never been as unpredictable as the present.

It was the familiar breeze of the air conditioner that made Hosah jolt to attention. That was the thing with the facility, no matter the time of year, that stupid machine always whirred away, even when the tips of his fingers had turned white, going numb as they were rendered completely useless. The grey prison-esque uniforms everyone was forced to wear didn't help him much in the case of finding warmth, the fabric being heavy and scratchy against his skin as it hung off of his form like an old rag. The relevance of him being a teenager in the dream was lost on him, but then again, it had only just began.

In his dream states, Hosah was always far, far more sensitive and emotional. He couldn't recall a single dream as vivid as this where he wasn't crying out in some way. The total loss of control, despite how real it all seemed, was the thing that scared him the most. He had no composure in his subconscious.

Everything in his vision was as clear as day, although he knew it wasn't real. It couldn't be real, he had all of his memories up until the current day, and he knew he wasn't in the facility the last time he checked. Now would've been a great time to get up, to look through everything in the shoebox of a room as best as he could, despite being shrunken and stuck that way- even in the depths of his dreams, to relive the little parts of his adolescence. It was the same as how he'd remembered it, plain, mind-numbingly so, appearing to be more of a holding cell than any sort of bedroom- a place of comfort, of intimacy, of safety and normalcy. His dreams never allowed him much indulgence in the things he wished to do, especially not exploring and, God forbid, finding enjoyment.

"Hosah," The voice rang familiar, but it wasn't at all accurate to the time and place he was supposed to be in. It was Doctor Aronov. Huh.

One accurate part of the dream, however, was how the door creaked open. It was a horrible, grating sound that made Hosah recoil and curl into himself, covering his tiny, sensitive ears in hopes to protect them from the loud noise.

He could tell the sound had stopped now, but it didn't mean he wanted to lift his head just yet. In the safety of his own head, Hosah was still afraid to face Doctor Aronov.

"There you are." His smile could be heard, even in his quiet whisper, "It was foolish of you to think you could run and hide from me for so long. Going as far as to miss your check-ups, were you?"

The quiet tutting of disappointment that left his lips was enough to send Hosah into a spiral of distress. It was a teasing gesture, that much was clear, but even the slightest sign of a disapproval from the doctor broke the shifter's tiny heart into a million pieces.

Hosah shook his head, his foetal position with hands being held over his ears more so to block out the sound of a reply than the creaking of the door, "I'm sorry, I would've come back- I was going to- but.. things just keep happening, and I keep putting it off, and- it's just, now it's a big mess that I can't even begin to untangle—and the only way I know how to deal with it is to pretend it's not there at all."

He wished he could control what came out of his mouth. He'd rather had stayed silent, but that would just be reinforcing the explanation his subconscious had conjured up for him to give to his doctor. In his dream state, Hosah didn't just struggle to control his tongue, but his physical reactions and outbursts too, as he began to cry. This was usually the state he'd end up in whilst he slept. It was raw, uncontrollable, and terrifying. The fact it wasn't real was the reason he was ever able to sleep at night, but even then, his dreams had become so vivid, it was hard to discern them from reality nowadays.

Even when curled up, completely avoiding his surroundings both visually and audibly, the shift in weight underneath him as the giant sat beside him on his bed filled Hosah in on the details of his situation. God damn his size, and how very gradually he slipped down the pillow, involuntarily dragging him closer to the doctor. God damn physics especially.

"There, there." Even his comfort was cold and clinical, "I understand. I understand all too well. Whilst I agree it's not in the patients best interest to read up on them before they come to see you, I'm aware of the previous diagnosis you've been given. Usually, I'd wait for you to tell me yourself, but, given your situation, the fact that help isn't something you willingly went out of your way to receive, I felt it to be necessary."

Doctor Aronov waited. It seemed he wanted to pique Hosah's interest with how vaguely and strangely he worded his statement, but in his most raw and honest form, Hosah couldn't hide his lack of a care for learning just what the doctor knew about him. Ignorance is bliss, and he'd much rather be in the dark, as he remained still as ever, curled up in himself on the pillow.

The heavy sigh that followed his expectant silence instantly drove Hosah over the edge, his instinctive need to beg for forgiveness being quickly dismissed by the raise of the Doctor's voice again.

"It's typical for these things to go hand in hand. What you said, about things leading back to one key source, or, I suppose you said event- it's not so far off. It can all be related back to something in your core. You're an anxious person, Detective. What you eat, the events in your life, maybe.. How you're perceived."

Even in a state of pure honesty and vulnerability, Hosah still couldn't manage to not be stubborn. That was more or less his 'core'. "I don't care about what people think of me."

"No, I suppose not." The doctor hummed. Hosah began to wonder what exactly was the difference between psychiatrist and therapist. "It's more like.. You're anxious about their outwardly approval of you. What they really think isn't a problem, as long as you can't tell. I'm right, aren't I?"

The shifter could sort of understand the difference, but being difficult was another core aspect of himself, "Those sound like the same thing. Outward approval, and their true opinion."

"Exactly." The fact Doctor Aronov chuckled wasn't one that put Hosah at any ease, "You choose not to acknowledge the difference between the two. That's the point. Like how you have been choosing to ignore the appointments I so graciously reschedule and replan my life around for you."

"I'm really sorry." Even in his dreams, where he is devoid of any control over what comes out of his mouth, the lingering taste of shame is still ever present on Hosah's tongue nonetheless, "I wasn't thinking about anyone but myself when stopped showing up. I'm just scared, you said you understand, do you understand- that I'm really sorry, and it wasn't a conscious decision, it just sort of happened."

"You don't have to be so sorry." His answer was fast, too fast for comfort. "You can't go back, but you can make a start to make things right- or, to make things better. Why do you think you're here?"

Hosah surprised himself with the speed of his own answer, "Because my mind won't let me out of here."

"And have you not thought to question why that is?"

"Because I know I can't go back. And I don't know how to make things better. I don't want to go back, but if I could, maybe I'd know. I've tried fucking some sense into me, to relive it, but it just piles on the dirt. Every time I've tried, I've just found myself even more lost, more... stuck in here." Hosah no longer found himself laid to appear as small as he could possibly seem anymore, as he stared up at the familiar bright off-white overhead lights he'd seen in his memories almost every day, even over ten years later.

Hosah could tell the doctor was smiling at him, even though he wasn't even looking. There was a weird sense of all-knowing he had in his dreams, he knew what was going on, and that just made his lack of ability to face and or stop it even more painful.

"That's already a start- acknowledgment. You just need to say it. Properly, I mean. We can come back to this another time, hopefully in the near future. You'll just need to fill me in, of course."

Despite alluding to the one thing that caused all of his problems to unfold, Hosah never actually told the doctor what exactly it was that happened. It was for the same reason he couldn't admit it to Teddy- he was afraid. Of being called a liar, of having misremembered, of making it all real by acknowledging it ever happened at all outloud.

"Hosah." The voice wasn't the same as the one that greeted him earlier, no, not at all.

"Hosah, cmon, what's a matter..?" It was gentle, shaking the world he currently resided in, gripping his shoulder with a light, yet earth shattering force.

"Talk to me, wake up, hey.."

The shifter jolted awake, the seatbelt having left a dint in his hollow cheek. That wasn't the only thing imprinted on his face, however, as his tears also left a stain, a tracking trail of where they'd travelled before pooling in the space between his collarbones.

"Hey." Teddy's relieved face could be made out, even through hazy, tear filled vision, "Sorry I had to wake you. Didn't seem like too pleasant of a dream, huh?"

"I need to call Doctor Aronov. I need to talk to him."

It wasn't until Hosah had blinked the coming tears out of his eyes that he realised the impossibility of it all. They were in the middle of nowhere, only a few minutes away from Teddy's family farm- where phone service was nonexistent and the closest form of civilisation was a good few miles away.

The look of pity on Teddy's face was an unnecessary one as he squeezed the shifter's shoulder, "Aw,"- he hummed- "it'll have to wait.. I spoke to him not so long ago, remember? He's happy to have me there with you, as long as you actually turn up."

"No." Hosah cut in, gripping his seatbelt until his knuckles were white, "I mean.. There's something I need to say to him, privately."

"When the time comes to it, I can give you your space." Teddy gave a reassuring jostle of the shifter's hair, before starting the engine once more. "Cmon, we'd better clock in, have dinner, get some rest.. Funerals tomorrow, after all. Then we have a day to do whatever, then we'll be back. You can talk to him soon, just gotta get through the long weekend."

That was right. Just the long weekend, then they'd be home. That was what Hosah had to keep reminding himself, as the itching began, once and for all.

Like clockwork, the car started again. His nap didn't help Hosah feel any more well rested, but he didn't dare to risk trying to get some more shut eye for the rest of the journey, not whilst he wiped at his blocked nose with his sleeve, his eyes still red and sore from how tightly he'd squeezed them shut.

"So, you dreamt of Doctor Aronov, then?" Teddy asked, innocently, his eyes focused on the country dirt road.

They would've landed around about eleven or twelve, if they were still in the US, but given the change in time zone, they hadn't gotten out of the airport until six in the evening. It wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't November, as the sun had set early, leaving the pair to wade through the roads with only the headlights of the car to guide them.

Hosah shook his head, still snivelling to try clear his breathing, "Something like that."

Teddy repeated his words back to himself a couple times, quietly, all smiles as he stared at the road in front of him.

"You're in a good mood." Hosah commented, more focused on trying to find tissues as he shuffled around in his bag as it sat in the footwell.

"I'm excited." He clarified, "I haven't been home since I left. My Grandpa sends post cards and letters, and all, but that's not the same."

Hosah nodded, sagely. Whilst he didn't understand the feeling that came with no longer having his grandfather be in his physical presence, he understood that letters and cards weren't the same. His own grandfather would send cards every Hanukkah, one for each of his grandchildren, besides his younger brother Noah, whom he didn't know existed. He'd address Hosah's older brother by name in writing, but he never sent a card specifically labelled for a Hosah, just 'habibi'. That was the reason specifically, why his father and his father's father stopped speaking to each-other. Complicated feelings regarding the original Hosah, and how each of them chose to honour him.

"Yeah.." Hosah wasn't sure how else to respond, saying 'I get it' was a lie, and anything else just didn't feel right. ".. Are you okay? With the funeral and everything- if you're upset, I'm here for you, you don't have to act like you're not."

"I'm not upset." Teddy's smile faltered, just slightly, "I'm more upset that I'm not upset. I feel like I should be, that I shouldn't be this happy despite it.." His words trailed off, much like the paved road, that had turned to grass and dirt now. "We're here now. And, the day after the funeral, if the weather is still good, I'll take you somewhere."

"Getting all that it's worth out of renting a car?" Hosah joked as he prepared to undo his seatbelt.

"We'll bike it. If you can manage." His words rang half honest, although the other half was just a tease, in which Hosah rewarded it with a gentle push of his shoulder, careful of the fact he was still parking all the while.

It was hard to see in the dark, but the light through the windows of the farmhouse up on the hill was enough to convince them to walk up towards it. Seemed as though everyone else had beat them to arrival. Something in Hosah's stomach churned. He wasn't afraid of what people thought of him, but the incoming reaction of the pair walking in late weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Teddy had gotten out of the car all at the same time as the shifter, and even with both their bags slung on either of his shoulders, he still paused.

"Wait." He muttered, his eyes on the house rather than on Hosah himself. Still, he was beckoned towards him, so he obliged in the request.

Despite his arms being obviously too full to embrace him, Teddy still managed to pull the shifter in close. He was always touchy, but this was far more overly romantic than he was usually willing to go outside the confines of their home. Kisses were methodically planted across Hosah's face, on each cheek, his forehead, both the bridge and the tip of his nose, his chin, and especially, a gentle, closed mouth kiss on his lips. It was extra, that was for sure.

"Because I'm not really going to be able to whenever I want." Teddy clarified, deciding just one more would do, before Hosah could come up with an answer.

Hosah smiled, knowing he’d have to let go shortly, but taking Teddy’s hand in his own anyway, “Oh, God forbid.” - he shook his head, “Let me carry one of the bags, at least?”

-~-

It was when they entered the house itself that it seemed to hit Teddy. Like a ton of bricks, the sheer amount of mass burying him beneath them. Surprisingly, he didn’t panic under the pressure. A comforting weight, one that kept him grounded against the earth.

The evening was so pleasant, as long as he could ignore everyone but Hosah and his grandfather. It was perfect, like he’d never left at all, but bringing back everything that made his leave so great in the first place. The rooms were the same, the cats he’d raised from birth still wandered around the patio, purring and rubbing around his legs as a welcoming gesture, it felt more like a celebration of victory than a mourning of what once was. A looming threat had been disarmed. The wooden spoon he remembered so vividly being struck with was still hanging on its peg, except this time, it had no one to wield it.

By the time his internal clock had decided it was bed time, despite how everyone still sat in the living area, taking up every seat there was to offer, Teddy had excused himself to ‘the bathroom’, signalling for his partner to come out alongside him. The flashlight was still in the same place as it was when he was thirteen and pulled this trick.

“When you feed them at night, it makes it more likely for their calves to be born in the daytime. Less risky, that way.” Teddy explained through his steps, the shifter following along at his side.

“Besides,” He continued, “I needed a break, I think.”

Hosah wasn’t sure what he could add to the discussion, but he listened anyway, intently so. The day had been busy, that was for sure, between a long ceremony of what was described to him as ‘sin eating’, and generally being an accessory to a long overdue catch up between the family he wasn’t quite a part of, Hosah could definitely get behind a break from it all.

The pair got on with the task in a comfortable silence, taking a brief pause as Hosah discovered a new found fear of the large animals as they approached, much to Teddy’s delight. Any excuse to hold the shifter close was a good one; even if it were a ridiculous one. Taking a detour to wander around the farm he could navigate with his eyes closed seemed like a good way to pass the time, even if it were pitch black out by now.

Despite it not being visible to the eye, Teddy still knew where they were as they passed it. The slaughterhouse. He lifted the flashlight up to it, taking a moment to stare, to relive his childhood. It was clear what it was, even to the shifter, who was oblivious to such a lifestyle as Teddy’s own.

“Bad memories.” — Was all the taller of the two could mutter, “I don’t think I’ve been able to enjoy chicken since.”

That much was understandable. Hosah remembered the story, even if it was told to him a while ago by now.

“How long ago exactly was it- since you’ve been back?” A shift in topic was due, as they trailed back the way they came. They’d spent long enough wandering around in the dark.

“Twelve years, give or take.” Teddy took the lead, though not failing to thread his fingers between the shifter’s, just whilst he could.

Through the glimpses of the flashlight’s clarity, Hosah could still make out the general look of the farm house, even at such a distance away. It was scary how close it resembled the one he’d mustered up from his mind, for the painting he’d gifted to Teddy. That reminded him, actually, of the total lack of birthday wishes he’d received from his family that day. The realisation hurt his heart, enough for him to squeeze the larger hand that held his own.

Hosah’s eyes had grown used to the dark by now, the scrunching of Teddy’s face being apparent, even when it was partially turned away from his own. He didn’t want to let go, even as the patio’s light made their physical connection apparent. Neither of them did. So, they stayed that way, just until the door had opened wide enough for them to be visible by the entry way.

Everyone had seemed to go to bed, besides Yves- Teddy’s grandfather. He didn’t pay any mind to the pairs closeness, approaching them with a warmth that wasn’t found in any of Teddy’s other relatives. When Hosah pictures ‘grandfather’ in his mind, one like Yves wasn’t what it defaulted to. He wasn’t as fragile or decrepit as expected, in fact, he was the opposite, with the only true sign of his aging being the white colour of his hair, even his wrinkles being rather vague. He was younger than expected, that was for sure. Hosah knew how rude it was to guess peoples ages, but early seventies had to be the absolute oldest he’d pegged him for.

“Fed the cows?” He asked, still in an accented english, as Teddy’s father had insisted upon. Hosah considered that to be quite a rude gesture, also. He’d rather have his age guessed.

Teddy responded back, not in english, but the shifter pretended he understood what was being said either way, trying not to let how lost he was become apparent in his demeanour.

“Nonsense, I never get to use what I’ve learnt, so now you’re all here, I will use it as much as I can.” Yves gave a look to both of them. He had similar freckles and moles scattered around, just as Teddy had. “Hosah, photo album?”

The shifter was surprised to be addressed directly. The majority of Teddy’s relatives had done their best to ignore his presence. He was surprised his name was even known.

Hosah looked to his sides to make sure there wasn’t a third person at the doorway with the same name as him, before responding:

“Sure.” He tried not to let both his confusion and his enthusiasm be too evident.

Despite the taller of the two giving a sigh that could only be described as one that would be let out when preparing for further, they both followed along to the living room. It looked different now that it was empty, although the fire still crackled as if it was full of people it had to warm.

Maybe Teddy’s hobby was more of a hereditary thing, rather than one that stemmed from avoidance of his mother’s wishes regarding his future career path.

#g/t #giant tiny #g/t ocs #gianttiny #giant/tiny #oc hosah #oc teddy #size difference #g/t author #g/t writing #Puparia_tag #gt #Teddy grandpa I love you #Also i didn’t forget about Hosah’s therapist I promise

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ravetillyoucry · 27 days ago

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G/T TOBER DAY 9: Exploration

#g/t #giant tiny #g/t art #gianttiny #sfw g/t #size difference #giant/tiny #gttober #gtober #gtober 2024 #gttober 2024 #gt #the borrowers

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ravetillyoucry · 29 days ago

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PUPARIA

Chapter 25.5 - Knuckle Velvet [PART 2]

prev - chapter 1

With the silence came a look of expectance across, what might as well have been, everyone's faces. A heavy air that needed to be filled with something, anything, but it just so happened to be far too thick to get a breath in, the shifter's lungs being far too deprived to push any kind of words out. Hosah choked, his eyes watering as he keeled over. The sudden sound seemed to light the room back up again, as his keeling over turned the crank handle on Tony's box, right up until he sprung out with an uncomfortably loud and long laugh.

"GOD." He roared, a hand quite harshly patting Hosah's back in an attempt to stop his spluttering, "It's a joke. For fuck sake, what are you all so miserable for, huh?"

Perhaps there was a reason for the gloom in the room. A glaringly obvious one, nonetheless. Teddy sighed a pained 'Oh'. He was probably the most relieved out of the pair, to not be found out just yet... He'd tell eventually, of course.

Forcing out a smile and a laugh was a difficult task to endure, but one Hosah would just have to take on despite it. Looking around the room, even with blurred vision through glossy eyes, nobody looked the slightest bit pleased. Tensions were high, and thick enough to slice right through.

Before Tony could quite get another word out, Teddy was quick to interject, "You haven't had a tour of the house yet! Oh my god, I feel so rude now, apologies. Come on, I'll- we'll show you,"

His eyes flickered between the shifter as he took his arm, and Aurelia, who he silently beckoned to come along with them. It seemed immature, they weren't the few older kids at a family dinner party going out on a blunt walk, his sister had a baby for gods sake, but along the three went anyway. It was probably for the better, not that Hosah didn't feel an immense amount of guilt for leaving behind the unassuming man that was Aurelia's husband. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't said a word since walking through the door. Weird.

The three silently walked in a single file line, taking a bee-line from the foyer straight to the front door. Hosah would have to see the rest of the house later.

If it weren't for Aurelia, they probably would've ended up lost in the suburban labyrinth of identical houses. The air wasn't particularly cold just yet, but they each grabbed their coats either way.

"It was only a matter of time before they started fighting." Teddy sighed, his breath present in the air like a puff of smoke. Shit. Maybe today hadn't been so perfectly planned, Hosah had forgotten his cigarettes.

Aurelia took the lead, walking a few steps ahead of them, whilst turning back to add, "The baby is a good distraction, though."

".. Right. I feel bad for leaving Dean there now." Teddy made sure they'd walked a good enough distance from the house to reach for the shifter's hand.

"Don't." She put it bluntly, "He'll be fine."

Hosah wasn't sure it was his place to speak up. To say anything. Maybe this was as bad of an idea as Teddy made it out to be. Like a freshwater fish out in the salt of the sea. It wasn't right, he didn't fit, but neither did Teddy really.

Teddy hummed, his thumb kneading the shifter's knuckles, "How are you both anyway? Did you end up picking a name for your baby?"

"Of course we named the baby. I'm just not sure if I love it." Aurelia's pace picked up, as she practically yelled to be heard now.

"The name?" Teddy already knew his answer, clarification or not.

".. Yeah. Not sure on the name. Or anything, really." She sighed, stopping in her tracks to allow the pair behind her to catch up.

That wasn't right. Teddy's expression dropped, his brow furrowing as he thought over his sisters words. That wasn't right at all. She wasn't the type to be unsure, she had everything figured out, her life was perfect, she had the respect of their parents. What she didn't have was uncertainty, surely not.

"Anyway," Aurelia shrugged, her face brightening in a mere split second. So, the state of being on a constant emotional rollercoaster seemed to be hereditary. "What's going on in the life of Edward?... And Hosah."

The nod she gave the shifter was supposed to be reassuring, but it only tightened the knot in his stomach. Hosah wasn't supposed to be here.

"I mean," Teddy sighed, heavily, like an old dog, "Objectively, it should be terrible, but, I think I'm the happiest I've ever been. And, I'm in the longest period of time in which I've been consistently happy throughout. So. Something like that."

"Just 'good' would've done it." Aurelia kept her head lowered through her laugh. "I mulled Edward over in my mind for a while. The name, I mean, but we ended up with Yves."

"After Grandpa?" Teddy wasn't sure why he questioned the obvious. A force of habit, probably. One he'd like to snap out of in the near future.

"Sorry. I know you liked the idea of naming your own kid after him. Early bird catches the worm."

All Hosah had ever truly wanted to be his entire life was a father in some capacity. As the years went by, and the less likely falling in love or even getting any kind of control over his 'power' became, the less he let himself become attached to the idea. He scrubbed the thought of 'I'd like to do this with my child' from his line of thinking, accepting himself as unstable, unfit, and incapable of achieving his one goal at life. Things changed, situations would shift, adaptations would need to be made. It was a bump in the road, something Hosah could soon get over. The conversation ripped into him like pulling the stitches out of an old wound. Hosah almost felt himself physically take a hit of damage as his breath hitched, his heart in his throat for a brief moment. Along with the sting, however, came a sense of hope.

"That's okay. There's a world full of names out there." Teddy squeezed the shifter's hand just ever so slightly tighter.

The silence that followed wasn't so heavy after all, in fact, it was quite light, soft, like the cakes from Teddy's favourite bakery. It almost brought a spring into Hosah's step as they circled the maze-like nightmare of a suburb.

They'd been walking around for a good five or ten minutes now, Hosah had no idea how nobody had noticed their absence. Of course, Teddy's family home was about twice, possibly three times the size of his own, without even accounting for the fact that his parents were seemingly far less obsessively overprotective as his own, but, come on. They weren't discreet with how they ran off. And almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, one of their phones began to buzz, demanding attention with violent vibration.

It couldn't have been either Hosah's or Teddy's given how they'd agreed to not answer a single call from now until they'd be back in the US on Monday, given how there wasn't going to be any service out at his grandparents- or, just his grandfather's now- farm. With both of their mobiles being securely packed away in either one of their backpacks, (they hadn't really cared to take account of which one it was exactly) the general consensus of the situation was to look to Aurelia.

"We've been caught." She muttered with an awkward smile and squat in a the bobbing motion, as people often did when something was sort of comedic in a smile and nod sense.

Hosah had a feeling there'd be lots of smiling and nodding to be done once they'd get back. He was never really that great with people his parent's age.

-~-

The rest of the evening was a blur. Hosah had spent most of it holding dearly to the baby that had been left on his lap as if he were the family nanny as everyone but himself and Teddy indulged themselves in celebratory drinks. It was the strangest pre-funeral gathering he'd ever been to, not that the shifter had ever experienced any sort of monumental death within his family, not whilst he was alive, at least.

Hosah was acutely aware of the impact that came with death, he'd watched his father continuously unravel beyond help from the day he was born, he'd seen families be torn apart right in front of his eyes, with all his means to help lying within an ability to pull information out of them through an internal understanding they'd share. A shifter solidarity. One that knew just how fleeting life was, how fast it can be washed away by the crashing waves that were other people, just people with the power to stay the same size rather than a constant loop of change. When it came to his role as a mediator of sorts, all his 'unknown ability' came down to was the same sort of exhaustion those he found himself faced with shared. Being tired of living in a constant state of 'waiting for it', tired of how their muscles exhausted with every stretch and compression of shrinking down to a hundredth and less of their original size. Sometimes an eternal sleeping state didn't sound to bad, until he saw the aftermath of falling into the forever.

Teddy hadn't shed a tear. That wasn't strange, per se, given he wasn't the utmost emotional in regards to physical outbursts, as long as you didn't count a change in his face, that is. Teddy was the type to play his cards close to his chest, although a trained eye could see how his glinted upon being dealt a good hand. Hosah thought back to the day before. He felt relief, that's what Teddy had said. The end of a looming threat, closing the door behind an everlasting fear, an untangling of the knot that sat ever present in his stomach. He wondered what it meant, what had happened to make Teddy of all people so afraid. If Teddy was scared, the world was backwards. Teddy didn't fear much. He feared the vast city, but that was a given with his incapability to see the world from a shrunken perspective, he was used to being big, and the fact he was actually inconsequentially small, and therefore just as vulnerable as Hosah was when he lounged in his palm without a care in the world, was alarming. Of course it was. Hosah struggled to picture the face behind the title 'grandma' to be anything but a fragile, sweet old lady, albeit he didn't have any figure of his own to use as reference.

Teddy leant back in his seat, an arm resting, waiting for Hosah to fall back upon, over the backboard of the sofa. He spoke, leaning forward until his breath tickled the shifter's ear;

"You don't want anything to drink? There are plenty of beers-"

"We're flying tomorrow. In a few hours, I mean. If I have anything- anything at all, it'll come up. I already threw up all that water I drank on our way here." Hosah shook his head, his voice equally as quiet as Teddy's, but still loud enough to be made out amongst the small party before them.

The shifter had excused himself from dinner earlier to dispose of the contents of his stomach. Mainly so he wouldn't have to add to the pile that sat heavily inside of him, but also because he feared the liquid bile would come up and stain their nice white tablecloth if he didn't hurry. It had become a terrible habit of his to get sick. Not necessarily in the snivelling, sweating sort of way, but in a way that rendered his abilities to hold his food down useless. Discussing it with his doctors would lead to one answer only, that being Hosah's obvious disorder, but he wouldn't believe that to be the case even if it were on a paper signed by everyone in the world that had even considered studying medicine before. It was nice to have someone to sit by the toilet bowl with as they brushed back the hair from his eyes and wiped the thick slobber and spit from his chin. Teddy was glad to do that.

"You should still have some water, you know. It won't kill you, it's just the stress. Plus, all that vomit had to make you dehydrated in some capacity." Teddy leant forwards with his elbows on his knees, mirroring the shifter beside him as his hand crept up Hosah's back.

The lightbulb that formed above Hosah's head could be seen if you looked hard enough, his expression lighting up as he spoke;

"You're right. I need water and to rest. We should go.. Up to bed now."

He'd handed the baby back to its rightful owner a bit ago by now, and Teddy's family surely seemed pleased enough to not notice the two of them slipping up to the guest room in which they'd be staying in. The fact Teddy didn't have his own personal space in his parent's house was appalling, but Hosah had no room to comment on strange home lives.

Without another word needing to be exchanged, the pair excused themselves from the gathering, slipping up the various flights of stairs and down the lengths of hallways before finally locating where they'd be bunking for the night. A single guest room about as cold and minimalist as the rest of the house. It wasn't even necessarily classy, appearing more unfinished than anything. Maybe Hosah was just far too used to his boyfriend's starkly contrasting maximalist decor style, but the room was just sad. If they had this kind of space, they'd also have no money, as it'd give Teddy an excuse to buy all the things he stops to look at when dragging Hosah through just about every vintage store in the city. The thought made him smile.

And with the closing of the door came a newfound confidence over Teddy, whose arms didn't wait to wrap around the shifter's shoulders, holding him there for a long awaited moment.

"I think you've hit a new record of 'longest you can go without touching me'." Hosah smiled, even before their relationship tangled up and became far less straightforward that what needed to be, Teddy had always been the type to never keep his hands to himself, in some way shape or form.

Teddy pushed his face in deeper between Hosah's neck and shoulder, "I don't know how much longer I can keep this up."

"You're so dramatic." The shifter slithered his way out of the grip, "Besides, it's way more exciting going around secretively. I mean, even in the office, people sort of understand."

From here, the nightly routine would begin. Hosah had already began to strip to his bare bones, despite how still and quiet Teddy stood before him. It wasn't like he could just stand there all night, and it wouldn't take him long to decide crawling into bed beside the shifter wasn't a bad idea in the slightest.

"So, you're not..." Teddy stood at the end of the bed, coat still on, looking everywhere but at Hosah.

"Not what?"

"You're not, like, upset?" With his head lowered, Teddy finally glanced up.

Hosah scoffed, sitting up from his position on the bed, "Why would I be upset?? You're so weird. Come here, stop standing around over there."

"I don't know, I figured.. It's just- I don't want you to feel like I'm keeping you a secret, you know? I'm not ashamed of you, or embarrassed, it's just not so easy, and-"

"Teddy." Hosah interjected, "I get it. Seriously. Don't worry so much about it."

Finally, he did as the shifter had previously asked, and collapsed onto the left side of the bed, as he did every night. Despite his unfamiliarity with the house itself, the room felt like home as long as Hosah was in it with him. It wasn't unlikely that Teddy would find his head in the shifter's lap, and it was even more likely that Hosah's hands would find their way in his hair, mindlessly coiling the messy attempts at curls that sprung out of his short cut hair, being the result of an overgrown buzz-cut that Teddy didn't wish to refresh any time soon.

After a moment of consideration, Teddy raised his head, shifting his position in an attempt to make his voice slightly less muffled by the fabric of Hosah's pants.

"Was it hard?" He muttered.

"Was what hard?" Hosah had a feeling he knew what exactly Teddy was speaking about already.

"You know..." Teddy shifted once more, staring up from the lap his head rested on, "Telling your parents- your family."

His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. It was totally taboo for him, and they'd never actually properly spoken about it, now that Hosah looked back.

"I didn't tell them, per se, but they.. I guess they assumed. I don't think they want it to be true, they talk about Jules like we're meant for each other, but, they're sort of aware." Hosah rambled, it was hard to not address the elephant in the room when discussing these kinds of things. "It was kind of.. Inevitable, or, that's what they think it is. It's hard to know for sure, if I've always been this way, or if it was- I, you know, a consequence. I don't really like to dwell on it."

"What-" Teddy laughed, mostly out of sheer confusion, "What would it be a consequence of?"

Now would be the natural time to tell him. Teddy was owed it, to know Hosah's history, he knew Teddy's, and it was wrong to keep secrets. They'd had this discussion, to be honest with each other, to be open, to understand better. It was either now, or Jules would tell him, just as she threatened to.

It was hard to recollect it in his mind, what was real, what came after as his minds amalgamation of trauma and fear, what he dreamt, what had actually happened, the warning signs that lead up to it. The only thing cemented in Hosah's mind was the cold tile of the bathroom floor against his legs, and the sudden warmth that took over. From there on out, he was on the lakes.

Even if he wanted to speak, he couldn't. He was too scared, scared of being called a liar, of false memories, of never being believed again, of losing all respect he'd gained for himself. Hosah's grip on the hair in his lap loosened, his hands no longer circling the scalp, his fingers resting in the soft red.

"Hosah." The voice paused his fast beating heart, momentarily, "You know... It's- it's okay."

The hand that rested in Teddy's hair was grabbed, slowly and gently, and held in a sandwich between two much warmer, larger hands.

"Of course it's okay." Hosah blurted, finding himself breathless once brought back to the reality he was in.

Teddy's eyebrows furrowed. He wasn't mad, Hosah could tell that much, but he definitely knew there was more to it than the shifter was letting on. Swiftly and suddenly, he sat up from his position, hands still encompassing Hosah's own all the while.

"Whatever it was that you think made you how you are, I'm grateful for it."

Oh. Ohh... Oh, dear god. It was like watching a car wreck. Hosah knew his words were dear and well-intended, of course they were, but, if he understood the actual event... There was a great chance he wouldn't be wording it that way. As horrible as he felt for doing so, Hosah had to laugh at him. Oh, sweet summer child. What he didn't know couldn't hurt him, he supposed.

"Sure. Yeah- okay. You could say that." Teddy's stupidity did make for a great change in atmosphere, he'd give him that.

"What-? What about that is funny?"

Teddy definitely had a bad habit of getting as close as he physically could to people in conversation. When walking side by side on the street, he'd collide into Hosah more times than he could count, even after constant reminders to put some space between them. It was like a magnetising pull that kept bringing him back, nearly knocking the shifter down onto his knees with every bump and brush into his side. As badly as it annoyed him, admittedly, he could see its endearing nature too. Now was no different, as they were about one centimetre away from brushing noses with how Teddy leant down towards him.

"No, it's not funny, I'm not laughing at you," Hosah lied, "It's sweet."

The hands unravelled from around the shifter's own, instead finding their way elsewhere around him, resting at his hips, with the other crawling up the back of his shirt. He knew what he was doing, and it was sick.

"Teddy-" There weren't many things that Hosah could pin-point his shifting down to, but lately, his 'triggers' had gotten far more embarrassing and glaringly obvious.

A sneeze, a ticklish brush past him, being startled- it wasn't like that before, but nowadays, they were the key to getting him shot down in size.

"I'm not doing anything, I'm just being affectionate." Teddy parroted back the familiar wording the shifter had just used. Maybe he was right from the start, and Teddy really was this great malicious evil.

With a slight brush of his finger's, Hosah was immobilised. Tiny, on the bed, with the two hands now at either side of his new form. He wanted to panic and yell, he really did, before emotions subsided upon the realisation that he was not in fact stuck like this. It was a feeling in his muscles and bones, that allowed him to tell whether he could or couldn't grow back, and luckily, they weren't as stiff as he was used to them being at this size.

"You're so lucky I'm not stuck like this. Do you know how frustrating that would've been- I mean, we're going to the airport tomorrow, in a few hours, how would that even work?-"

The smile on Teddy's face was enough of a distraction from the shifter's train of thought. He was so used to being the one messing with the giant, that having it go the other way around was downright jarring. It wasn't supposed to be this way, he didn't think Teddy even had it in him to be this purposefully aggravating.

"No, keep going, I'm listening." Teddy manoeuvred himself, leaning his chin on a hand with his other arm now folded. That didn't help the looming position he had on the shifter, but it was a welcomed changed. A view like this of his forearms were always welcomed.

This sort of view in general was one Hosah enjoyed. Even as the shadow overcast his shrunken body, and the pain that came with craning his neck up to see Teddy's face properly, it was certainly a sight to behold. He was already gorgeous at a normal height, but, admittedly, being a giant was a great look on him. He must've noticed how Hosah had been staring by now.

Teddy never just looked at anyone, that much was clear, and it was apparent in his eyes that he wasn't just looking down at the man he'd indirectly shrunk, he was studying him. Inspecting, if you will. Hosah sometimes found himself afraid the giant could see right through him and into his head. That's what frightened him at first, at least. How he stared, he watched, he seemingly knew exactly what to say, what to do. It was spooky, for lack of a better word. At least, that's what it used to be.

"... What, nothing more to say?" Teddy smiled.

There was nothing more for Hosah to say after all. As terribly as he'd been annoyed by the act, he supposed he could enjoy what he could of it. It made him sick just how sweet his thoughts became when they focused in on Teddy. Things he'd never verbalise with the fear of throwing up after hearing them being spoken orally.

Hosah's own expression contorted, his furrowed eyebrows softening, his jaw relaxing into a soft smile of amusement, one jarringly similar to Teddy's.

"You have no idea how lucky you are. Seriously, I could kill you." The shifter sat up, not bothering to return to his usual size just yet. He'd been itching to shrink all day anyway, it was good to get it out of his system, before they went away.

The staring had been unmoving, the giant's gaze fixated on Hosah without a moment of faltering. It was almost as if the entire world had focused in on them, the house being dead silent despite celebrations echoing throughout just moments before. It seemed distasteful to spend a pre-funeral gathering in such a way, but Hosah felt he had no place to judge their grieving. He never even knew the woman, after all, and by how Teddy had behaved, it seemed she didn't deserve a tasteful goodbye.

"If looks could kill, maybe." Teddy always had something gross and cheesy to say. "Come here, I miss you."

And with that, the hands that previously rested at either side of the shifter's form wrapped around him. Teddy was tall, extremely tall, meaning he was just going to be even more of a giant when Hosah was in such a state. Usually, he could say with confidence he was 'slightly taller than a thumb' at three inches tall, but when next to Teddy's, they rounded out at about the same height. That didn't stop the same thumb from grazing across his cheeks, over the top of his head, around every nook and cranny of his body, however.

"Please, it's been a few minutes at most, you can't seriously—"

The quiet was suspicious, now that he really thought about it. Hosah wasn't given a moment's thought before he was taken behind the giant's back, cramped in between two cupped hands that held him firmly in place. He'd been victim to his parents throwing enough house parties to know what this meant. It got to a certain hour, when people's drunkenness stopped making them fun, but made them emotional and invasive instead. What he didn't expect, however, was Dean to be the type to strike up a meaningful conversation under the guise of alcohol.

What Dean definitely was happened to be plain and unremarkable. Hosah didn't care to know him besides a firm handshake upon his entrance, and it seemed both Teddy and Aurelia, marital status or not, were under the same impression. All Teddy had to say about him on the briefing that was their journey there was, 'he's a ghost writer, and he'll tell you himself it because he's not creative enough to think up a story to write, so he writes other people's', which Hosah assumed was the harsh, overprotective brother side of him speaking, but it turned out that he really would tell the shifter that himself.

"Edward," He started, hand lingering on the door handle, despite being a good few steps into the room, "Are you talking to yourself?"

If Hosah weren't so worried about blowing his cover, not that he really cared if Dean knew he was a shifter or not, he would've definitely made a point to poke fun at Teddy for such an accusation.

"... Hosah is in the bathroom, we were-" Teddy removed one hand, slowly and hesitantly, waving it in the direction that the en suite was in, "- we were talking through the wall."

"Oh. Ah, yeah, that makes sense. I had a question, anyway."

Eugh. A question. Although Teddy's grip on the shifter's frame tightened, he still wriggled around in the loose fist, being his only way of showing a reaction to the words being spoken at him.

"It's about Arthur Emily. I'm helping with his memoir, he mentioned a shifter detective duo coming by, but he refuses to tell me why. He's.. He's not a very remarkable guy, not much to write about, or, that's what he's letting on." Dean rambled, sitting beside (what he was unaware to be) the pair, "And I know you work in a shifters specialist unit, don't you? Well, he's New York based, you're New York based, and... I don't know any other sort of facilities like that in the general area."

Oh, boy. If he didn't fear coming off as rude, Teddy would've groaned out loud. When would he ever escape such a man.

"Oh. Him." He sighed, "Yeah, me and Hosah went up there a little bit ago.”

“Really? He mentioned one of them being a shifter, y’know, a little guy. That wasn’t you, was it?” The smile on Dean’s face was enough to gross anyone out. His tone of voice certainly grossed Hosah out, with the giant that held him having to withstand having his grip wriggled out of. The shifter’s newfound freedom couldn’t be any good.

“No, Dean, wasn’t me. You think I’d tell you, that sort of stuff is hereditary, imagine your surprise if Yves shrunk down one day..”

A hand grabbed at the collar of Teddy’s shirt, pulling him forward with such a force, that his hand behind his back opened anyway.

“Don’t joke about that.” He spat, the smell of beer lingering in the air as his face drew uncomfortably close to Teddy’s own.

“It’s not such a terrible thing.” Teddy rebutted.

The only actual shifter in the room didn’t bother to move from his place behind Teddy’s back, his head peeking out. He’d intended to originally, but, with the clear fit of annoyance displayed, it seemed best for him to hang back.

“Not such a terrible thing? It’s a curse. It’s horrible, you should know, you see just how many of those poor fuckers die, you wouldn’t wish that on your worst enemy, would you? Don’t talk it into fruition with my child.”

Teddy held the ‘it doesn’t work like that’ on his tongue, waiting for the grip on his shirt to loosen before speaking up again, his own hand blindly searching the general area around his back for Hosah, as if he were some human stress ball he needed to hold to gather his thoughts.

Finally, he found the correct words to say, after what’s realistically was a short period- but felt like an eternity- of silence.

“It’s only so terrible because of how we treat it. The world wouldn’t be so cruel to them if we approached them how we approach each other. It’s not so taboo, or unnatural, or.. Anything. It’s a part of life, after all. Some people just happen to be that way.”

At this point, Teddy wasn’t sure if he was talking about shifters, or himself in some capacity.

Dean had let go entirely, nodding sagely. He was so remarkably plain that he didn’t even hold many of his stronger opinions to heart after having them deconstructed in front of him. Maybe that was a good thing, though.

“Mm..” He hummed, “I suppose so. You know, That flight to.. Uh.. Europe, it’s awfully long. You can debrief your experience with Emily then, when I’m, y’know, sober.”

At least that was that. Teddy agreed, his hand gently squeezing the shifter that now sat quietly in it, just to reassure him he was still aware of his presence there.

“I think that’s for the best.”

He really hoped Dean would drop it, as spending up to nine hours trapped speaking to him sounded like a specifically fucked sort of hell reserved for only the cruellest of individuals.

#g/t #giant tiny #g/t ocs #gianttiny #giant/tiny #oc hosah #oc teddy #g/t writing #g/t author #gt #Puparia_tag #Sorry this took so long #I told you this part would be Uber long #But I had a lot I wanted to do #and I even still think there’s more I could’ve done with this part but again. I didn’t want to drag it out for so long #We found out about G-ma forever ago cmon just get to Italy already #Anywho

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ravetillyoucry · 1 month ago

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g/t-tober prompt day 1 - mist!

#g/t #giant tiny #g/t art #gianttiny #sfw g/t #size difference #giant/tiny #gtober #gtober 2024 #yay #Quixk drawing …

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ravetillyoucry · 1 month ago

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One of my favorite parts of the manga Godaigo Daigo:

Read Chapter 1 here / Chapter 39 here / Table of contents here

THIS is the parental G/t I have been CRAVING for a long time.

A protective giant father not approving of any of his daughter’s fiancé’s.

He was turned into a giant after his daughter was born, and was separated from her for many years. This is their family reunion:

This family is EVERYTHING to me!

He is reluctant to let her get married because he didn’t see her grow up and wants to make up for lost time.

But when her new fiancée shows true guts and love for his daughter, he can’t help but approve.

But more importantly, he wants to make his baby girl happy 😭😌

This is a continuation of this post from @coffehbeans

Now I am BEGGING the universe for either an anime or a printed manga! (Preferably BOTH!)

I NEED people to read this manga RIGHT NOW

#‘i’m so gay’ in the tags #We know lil bro 😭🙏#Sorry Luka #Hashtag NeedThat

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ravetillyoucry · 1 month ago

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All of Puparia can be found on my blog under #Puparia_tag :3

hey! I was wondering:

where can I find good g/t fics? I check on ao3 and love those fics! But they are always short and sweet. Do you have any suggestions for fics? Tbh i haven’t seen any good fearplay fics in a good bit.

i’m not gonna lie, i’m suuuuper super behind on my g/t reading. my usual go to’s are ao3, furaffinity (if you’re cool with furries), and giantessworld (MAJOR nsfw warning like 99% of this site is smut). i cannot think of specific recs off the top of my head bc it’s been a minute since i read g/t stuff tbh.

HOWEVER, if you (the person reading this) write and post g/t stories, feel free to reblog or reply to this with a link! hype yourself and your work up! that way me and anon and others can go through the notes and find some good stories :3

#Puparia_tag #I am still working on chapter 25.5 i’m just also in college full time now so that’s hashtag hard

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ravetillyoucry · 1 month ago

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A Happy Place to Be

Part 38 of my story! Read the index and content warnings here. In which Billy does what y'all have been wanting to do for a while now. CW for a child death mention.

Everyone in life had certain lines that could not be crossed. Herman Avery no longer had a mother, but he did have a ring, and so for Herman that line was drawn firmly at its defacement. He had forgotten all about apologizing to Joe as he strode across the threshold of the bedroom doorway, and only when he shut the door behind him did the weight of his actions really sink in. As a heavy fist pounded on the front door downstairs, he was torn between going down to answer it and going back into the bedroom to find some way to undo what he had just impulsively done.

Guilt crept up through the anger. He was supposed to have been better than this. He was supposed to have apologized. His temples throbbed to the beat of the knocking downstairs.

One way or another, if he wanted to stay remotely sane he would have to go down and put a stop to the noise.

When he ventured downstairs and flung the front door open, he was greeted with Marty Hammerson. The man looked him up and down, saw that he was still in his nightclothes and said,

“...sorry to bother you at this hour, doctor.”

Hoping the sight of Marty was a good omen for his case, Herman waved a hand dismissively.

“Not a problem, Mr. Hammerson.” He said. “Any news from the CPSO?”

The grey-haired man shook his head.

“None, I’m afraid.” Was the lawyer’s disappointing answer. “I’m looking for Danny Smalls. He was supposed to be back at the office by ten. It’s past midnight now.”

The guilt rose further, and Herman’s heart sank into it.

“I... I haven’t seen him.” Said Herman, nervously rubbing his neck.

“Have you seen Joe?” Was Marty’s follow-up question.

“Yes, he’s... upstairs.” He said.

“Did he say where Danny went?”

At the sight of the concern in Marty’s face Herman was sickened with regret. He cleared his throat.

“He... ah...” Nervous laughter escaped Herman as he spoke. “He mentioned some nonsense about a bunch of angry tinies from Tiny Town wanting to burn Danny at the stake or something.”

Marty’s eyes grew so wide they nearly fell out of his head.

“No. Not again. Not again! SHIT!” Marty rapped a fist against the doorframe and stomped back and forth irritably before composing himself. “...this isn’t the first time this has happened. I knew someday that little son-of-a-bitch was going to get himself killed!”

Herman had no idea what to say, let alone do. He thought back to what Joe had said and to what he had seen himself on the boardwalk. Only in retrospect did Herman appreciate how shaken Danny had appeared. It had all seemed so trivial before, but now, with his own lawyer losing his composure in front of him, Herman began to shake himself.

“So it’s true, then? It wasn’t just some... tall tale?” He asked.

“Of course it’s true! Haven’t you heard of what those townies have been getting up to? Danny’s a marked man. They’ll put his head on a pike.” Said Marty.

Herman gulped at the thought. He was hardly fond of Danny, but he had never wished harm on the man. As he thought back to the radio broadcast about the stabbing and the marking Joe had witnessed it dawned on him just how direly wrong his earlier assessment of the situation had been.

Quickly he replied,

“I’ll go get Joe. Maybe he can help.”

Herman clenched his teeth as he disappeared into the front hallway. When he was out of Marty’s view he stood for a moment and tried to calm himself down. What on Earth was he going to say to Joe? How would the two ever trust each other after this?

He thought back on his night with Susie. He would have to be honest, he knew. He would have to do everything in his power to correct the situation and set things right!

He climbed up the stairs to the master bedroom, opened the door, and began his apology without hesitation.

“Joe, I just made an awful mis-”

He was three steps in when he realized he was speaking to an empty room. There on the floor, several feet away from the shelf, lay the shards of the glass jar that had once contained Joe. Stepping closer to it and crouching down he spied the tiniest speck of blood, which hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Joe...?”

Herman ran his fingers over the remains of the jar, then crawled about on the floor in search of his missing friend.

“Joe, I know you’re mad at me, but I need you to come out. Please come out! You were right, Danny is in trouble! Joe...?”

He got up and searched the desk. There on the center of it was the open ring box. The diamond in his mother’s ring was nowhere to be found.

Herman no longer had the heart to be angry at Joe. Now he just felt foolish. All this time, all these months he had spent learning to listen to Joe, and he had failed him at the most critical moment just as he had failed his mother before him.

Maybe he deserved neither a mother nor a ring, he reasoned, as he put his shirt and trousers back on.

Fully dressed, he raced downstairs to Marty.

“Joe’s gone.” He said.

“Of course he would be. It’d be too easy if he wasn’t.” Marty rubbed his eyes.

For all the tension in their relationship, Herman still knew Joe, and he already knew the real answer to his next question.

“Do you think he’s gone to find Danny?”

Marty Hammerson pulled out a cigarette.

“I think I’m going to professor Hill’s, that’s what I think.” Marty said as he lit it. “If I’m lucky they’ll both be at Marigold Acres, and if I’m not lucky, the Hills might have some clue as to how to bust them out of the garrison.”

“Bust them out...?” The longer Herman listened, the more apocalyptic the situation became. “I’ll come with you. I-I owe it to Joe to sort this out.” He said.

He dipped in and grabbed a light coat that had a heavy pocket. Inside of that pocket he found his copy of On the Life and Death of the Miniature. He slid it back inside in the hope it might somehow be useful.

What Herman wasn’t expecting was for this simple decision to change his entire perspective on the world.

“No, Danny isn’t with us. I haven’t seen Joe either.” Billy said.

The sitting room fire at Castle Hill crackled in the background as the three of them sat around it. He turned to Herman.

“Did Joe say anything else when he left?”

The concern in Billy’s eyes all but broke him.

“Well... no... you see, we had a bit of a fight.” Herman explained.

“Go on.” Said Billy.

“I... caught him destroying my mother’s ring.” Herman said. “He told me it was payment to get into Tiny Town. That’s all I know.”

“Nothing else after that?”

Billy’s eyes were all but drilling into him now. Herman felt so, incredibly dirty and ashamed as he sat in front of him. He couldn't lie to this man. He had to confess what happened next.

“He didn’t tell me anything else. He didn’t have the chance, really. I... got upset at him and put him in a jar.”

Billy’s eyes scrunched into a bitter smile.

“A jar? You put your friend Joe in a jar?”

“Yes, sir.”

Billy let out a cold, distant, deranged chuckle. Then he lunged forward, grabbed Herman by the collar in his right hand, and clocked him in the jaw with his left. Marty Hammerson sprung up from where he sat, pulling Billy off of his prey.

"Easy now, easy!" Marty exclaimed.

Herman rubbed the bloodied right side of his face and looked at the enraged professor in disbelief as Marty kept hold of him. As Herman wiped the blood from his mouth he was reminded of Joe’s blood on the floor, and with that he could hardly hold it against his attacker.

The excitement quelled when a husky voice shouted at them from the walls.

“WHOA whoa whoa, time out! What the hell is this!?”

Lorraine stood on one of the many platforms that lined the Hill house dressed in a nightgown. She held a minuscule candlestick in one hand and rubbed her sleepy eyes with another.

“Billy go cool down would ya’?” She said. “Whatever this is, it’s probably a Lorraine problem.”

Like a guard dog that had been called off by its master, Billy Hill relaxed enough for Marty to confidently let him go. He stormed out of the room and down the hall, far from the reach of the firelight. Lorraine drew closer and casually leaned against the railing. Herman and Marty stood up and gave her their full attention.

“Okay. Sorry about him, Billy gets a little heated sometimes... What the hell happened? What’s he punching you for?”

Herman gripped his left hand with his right, hoping to still his fidgeting fingers. It was hard to look her in the eye.

“I put Joe in a jar.” Herman admitted once again.

Lorraine’s eyebrows rose.

“You put Joe in a jar!?” She squawked. “That’s stupid! What the hell’d you do that for!?”

“Joe was trying to tell me that Danny was in trouble in Tiny Town, and I didn’t believe him, so I put him in a jar. He broke out, and I think he’s gone off to rescue him.” Said Herman.

Lorraine covered her mouth in disbelief, then tossed her messy hair from her face, still swearing under her breath.

“Holy shit. Okay, that’s a lot.” She said.

“We, ah, believe they’re going to burn Danny at the stake by dawn.” Marty pitched in.

“Yeah. Of course they are.” Said Lorraine. “Marty, can I borrow you for a second? There’s some legal stuff we’ll have to tell the security company to get ‘em to let us go anywhere near Tiny Town without blowing us to smithereens. And there’s some lawyers we’ll have to write to if we wanna cover our asses. Harry, could you go get the contact book on the hallway end table please?”

Herman straightened up and did exactly as he was told. He left the comfort of the fire and ventured out into the long hallway, running a hand along the wall in search of a light switch. He found none, and instead he was forced to navigate in the darkness using the low light of an open door some ten feet away from him.

When Herman reached that door, his curiosity got the better of him and he peered inside. What he saw was utterly enchanting.

It was a cathedral of glass, octagonal in shape, about forty feet across. Surrounding the perimeter were flowers of all types: tulips, violets, marigolds, all gently perfuming the area. Moths fluttered around them, and batted at the tiny lights that dotted the circular platform in the center of the room for good measure. On that platform stood a miniature city surrounded by a moat of clear water, roughly the size of Tiny Town only much more well-maintained. It was made of stone, not wood, with stunning European architecture, complete with cobblestone roads and street lamps. The odd light or two shone from a window, but save for one tiny lamplighter, who patrolled this great city on a hill and snuffed out the lights, the streets were mostly empty.

The sign above it, arched and gilded, read, MARIGOLD ACRES. The sign below that said, A HAPPY PLACE TO BE.

In front of it all, at a safe distance from the miniatures, Billy sat on a series of steps that spiraled around the platform. He didn’t seem aware of Herman’s presence as he puffed away on a cigarette.

Herman looked to his side and noted the sign on the door:

AVIARY

He remembered this place from before. This was the room where Joe had heard the other miniatures. Now Joe’s excitement which had once seemed so childish made perfect sense.

He was about to turn away when Billy spoke to him.

“Do you know why I built this place, Harry?” Asked Billy.

Herman cautiously stepped inside, and Billy didn’t wait for him to answer.

“When I was a little boy, my father only allowed me to have friends he personally approved of. Suffice to say, I didn’t have any friends, until one day...”

Billy flicked his cigarette and kept talking as Herman drew closer.

“This little boy about my age who lived in my walls came up to me and said, bonjour. And I said bonjour back to him. We didn’t speak the same language, but we still understood each other. For three years he was my best friend in the whole world. I gave him food. He brought me trinkets.”

He jabbed his cigarette in the air as if to emphasize this point.

“My father found out about it eventually, of course.” Billy continued. “He said, why isn’t that lovely? Here, why don’t you go give him some chocolate? My father handed some to me, and I thought nothing of it.”

When Herman sat down beside Billy he could see the man’s eyes were now brimming with tears.

“When I woke up the next day, I found him lying there, and... I didn’t have any friends any more after that.”

Tears were coming to Herman’s eyes too now.

“There are certain lines we simply cannot cross.” Billy said. “Certain things we can never come back from. That was something I could never come back from. This...”

Billy gestured to Marigold Acres.

“This was my attempt to come back from that. To build something better. But I made a crucial mistake when I built the first version. I didn’t take Lorraine’s word into account. I watched as the version we built in the park turned into something twisted and ugly, as if my father’s ghost had come back to haunt me. ...so I tried again. I listened to Lorraine. I built the Marigold Acres I should have made years ago right in here, where nobody could hurt it."

Herman could no longer resist the urge to speak up.

“That wasn’t your fault. The chocolate, Tiny Town, none of it was anything you had control over.”

“No.” Billy said. “And that’s the saddest thing about it. This world will grab you by the scruff of the neck and force you to kill whether you want to or not.”

Herman looked down at his own hands that had been forced to kill time and time again, and as he did so he could only hope that one of the lives they took would not be Joe’s. His mind couldn’t let go of the sight of the blood on that bedroom floor.

Herman reached into his pocket and pulled out the book. He flipped though it for lack of anything else to distract himself with.

“You won’t find it in there.” Billy said.

Herman landed on the page he had been reading the night before.

“Find what?”

“Whatever answer it is you’re looking for that will solve everything.”

Herman ran his fingers over the page as Billy elaborated.

“You know, when I gave you that book, I thought you already knew how to read it. I could tell by the way you were talking about him you were truly concerned for Joe. You really valued him.” Billy said.

Herman nodded along to Billy’s words.

“To hear that you put him in a jar...” Billy shook his head. “I thought you were better than that.”

Yes, Herman had been reading through the book. He was an academic, of course. What more was there for him to do? He asked as much.

“What were you hoping I would do instead?”

Billy snuffed out his cigarette.

“I thought it might serve as a springboard to get you talking to each other, learning about one another. To me it looks like you’re taking the word of this researcher as gospel, and you can’t do that, Harry. Not with something as delicate as personhood.” Billy said.

Herman nodded some more. He had never suspected that the information he was absorbing would have such an effect on him. He had always sworn to himself that he would see Joe as a person no matter what, and yet...

“The lesser species is not a true person and should not be treated as such.” The text before him read. It had been struck through in red pen by Billy no doubt, and Herman had initially thought he had disregarded it on reading. Perhaps the author’s attitude was informing his view of Joe more than he cared to admit.

“...take the homosexual, for example.” Billy continued.

Billy’s words may as well have been a gunshot to Herman’s back.

“We see all of these cases of sad, sexually disturbed individuals begging to be cured. Miserable with themselves and their condition. However, a good many miniatures are homosexuals and feel no such way. As I studied them, I found there was this unseen social element to it... they’re more than crazed, self-deluded perverts. They have fulfilling, deep, mutually beneficial relationships. Love. Marriages. There’s more to it than defect or perversion. What the medical journals are reporting now is not painting a full picture of the depth and breadth of their experiences.”

Herman’s fear drove him halfway in and halfway out of his body. The moment didn’t feel real. What he was hearing from Billy sounded like an impossibility. Never before had he heard anyone in a position of power speak well of someone like himself.

The only other person who had done so had been Joe.

He was crying, still. Shaking. He felt simultaneously guilty and absolved. Maybe he could have had a beautiful relationship before his own ignorance had driven him away from it.

“The world is bigger than anyone can possibly comprehend – even us giants.” Billy continued, and pointed to the book in Herman’s hands. “The writings of those experts can help us understand it a little, but they will never give us the full picture. The only way we can truly know the world is to courageously... perhaps outrageously experience it for ourselves.”

Courage. That was the missing ingredient. Before Herman could be honest, before he could be strong, before he could fight, he needed to have the courage to do so. The very courage that Joe had been trying to teach him.

Herman closed the book and examined its cover.

He had to find that courage for himself now, he decided, not only for his own sake, but for Joe’s as well. He had failed to stand up for Joe at the interview because he had been afraid of worsening its outcome. He had failed to save Danny because he had been afraid the man would spirit Joe away from him. He had failed to listen to Joe because he had been afraid to lose the last piece of his mother.

Herman Avery was tired of being afraid. Now he was desperate to start living.

“Do you think I could do that?” He asked as he handed the long overdue library book back to Billy.

“Of course you can do it.” Said Billy. “If I can figure it out, so can you.”

“Then how do I start?”

A knock on the Aviary door answered his question.

“You guys are having a moment, I see.” Lorraine chirped.

Her eyes glinted from where she was perched on Marty’s shoulder.

“Wanna commit a felony?”

Next part coming soon!

#OUUUUUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #my heart #billy doing what we all wanted to do

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ravetillyoucry · 1 month ago

Text

Hairpin Turn

Part 37 of my story! Read the index and content warnings here. I'll kick the shit out of Harry next chapter, don't worry. <3 And the chapter after that! And the chapter after that and the chapter after that and the chapter after tha

While Harry was resting his legs with Susie, Joe was having a much more eventful night. He had no chance to react as the table erupted into pure pandemonium at the sight of Danny. The series of events became hard for Joe to follow after that.

First Danny's silver hairpin shot out and landed with a crack upon Dawson's temples, then Dawson crumpled over the table in a daze. Joe was still deciding whether to stand up with the rest of the townies or to stay seated when he caught sight of Danny's hand reaching into Dawson's pocket and pulling something out of it. Then the man to Joe's right, the one who had thrown the boot, launched himself over the table and tackled Danny, sending the hairpin flying.

It spun towards Joe and he caught it while it was in mid air.

"Nice catch!" Said Tim, who was now also halfway over the table in pursuit of Danny.

Just as Danny managed to wrestle the Italian ward boss off of him, the Irish one joined in. Joe looked from the hairpin to the fray and almost raised it in Danny's defence before he remembered he was supposed to be a Tiny Town Tiny.

More and more townies joined the brawl, the German, the Dutchman, the Frenchman, throwing punches and kicks left and right, fighting each other for Danny as much as they were fighting Danny himself. The crowd only grew more aggressive when Dawson, now recovered, straightened his crooked glasses and bellowed,

"A BOUNTY AND FIRST TORCH TO THE WARD WHO CATCHES HIM ALIVE!"

Danny, meanwhile, through some esoteric act of stage magic, had crawled out from beneath the writhing pile of sparring miniatures more or less unscathed.

He and Joe almost would have escaped, were it not for the combined weight of each and every ward boss on one side of the plate tipping the chandelier sideways and causing it to sway.

Joe fell over and crawled as the once horizontal table turned vertical. He clawed at thin air as the floor fell from underneath him and he plummeted along with the rest of the Tiny Town AGM to the death pit of dancing giants below.

His size saved him, as did the fact that the music of the live band suddenly stopped at the interruption. He looked around for Danny, for Harry, for a girl in a green dress, but all he saw were the shoes of stunned onlookers.

That was when the women began screaming.

Joe, terrified, followed the nearest tiny body he could spot as the group of miniatures raced for dear life to find the nearest exit through a wall of moving feet. He had made it to the edge of the dance hall, dodging high heels and half-brogues all the way, when he saw to his dismay he was following Tim O'Grady.

"C'mon lad!" O'Grady huffed and puffed. "We can catch up! Gotta beat those... bastard Italians!"

The bastard Italian by O'Grady's side held onto the hairpin for dear life and frantically searched for where its owner had run off to.

Then he spotted it, by the doorway: Danny, hopping on one leg, still fistfighting the Italian ward boss who relentlessly pursued him. Danny knocked the man back with a mean right hook and crawled like an animal out of it, into the dark of the rain.

Joe didn't think. He just sprinted, fueled entirely by adrenaline. If he could get to Danny in time then maybe, just maybe, they could make it out alive.

Tim had the exact same idea, and soon Joe was racing against him to get to Danny first. The man Danny had knocked down swiftly recovered as well, and the trio scrambled out at a perfectly matched pace onto the shadowy boardwalk.

That was where, in a kinder universe, they would have lost him. Instead, Joe heard a voice rising above the falling raindrops.

“Hey doc! Doc!” Danny Smalls shouted against the rain.

Hesitantly Joe stepped forward, squinting into the darkness. A flash of dry lightning backlit the looming frame of Harry Avery, who was looking down on Danny from a small distance away.

Relief and suspicion filled Joe in equal measure. This was it. This was Harry's chance to redeem himself. To be the romantic hero Joe so needed him to be.

“Doctor Avery, listen!" Danny cried, and Joe's heart split in two as the giant started to turn away.

“Is there something there, Herm?” Asked the dance hall girl, who was still clinging to Harry like a bad stench.

“Just a rat or something.” Harry said, and the two continued on their way.

Joe stood there in total disbelief as his knees shook underneath him to the point of giving out.

"No. Wait!" Joe shouted. "WAIT!"

Harry didn't wait, and neither did the ward bosses. The Italian pounced on Danny and the Irishman did too. They both held him down like a wild beast and Tim let out a dreadful cackle that shook Joe's very core.

It didn't sound like the kind of noise a real person could make.

"Oi, Piero, How about we - split the bounty between wards?" Tim said as Danny thrashed and struggled. "That or Joe here can split yer head open!"

"What are you talking about? He is from my ward!" Piero, the Italian ward boss, protested.

Danny thrashed again, fighting with all his upper body strength to get free. Joe ran his thumb over the silver hairpin. His hands quivered.

"Liar! He listens to me!” Said Tim. “Don't just stand there, Joe! Put that thing to good use! Teach this rotten little insect a lesson!"

Joe's eyes met Danny's. Directing him like always, Danny winked and nodded. Joe looked down at the head of the hairpin. It was oval-shaped with flared art-nouveau embellishments on the edge.

"He's a freak! A degenerate! Delusional! Attention-whoring on silver screens! Teaching the children it's okay to associate with giants of all people! All tinies like that do is hurt people, Joe. They're dangerous. The world is dangerous! Why not hurt him back for once?" Tim ranted as Danny lurched against his grip for the millionth time.

Oh how it enraged Joe that Tim was able to make the most heinous insinuations about people he knew absolutely nothing about.

Joe squared his jaw and tightened his fingers around the hairpin that had no doubt once belonged to Jane. On the center of the hairpin's head, in letters as small as Joe's fingers, was an engraving that seemed to speak for Danny when Danny himself could not.

Just like we rehearsed, it read.

The bodies of between ten and twenty other townies emerged from the darkness behind him. The rest of the AGM had caught up with them, and their eyes were now eagerly locked on Joe.

He looked up at Danny and nodded back. He stepped forward, raised the pin, and prepared to give the audience a show-stopping performance.

The beating he had given Danny had been fake. Danny’s reactions had been timed and Joe’s hits had been carefully calculated. That didn’t stop Joe from feeling disgusted with himself afterwards. When all was said and done, Joe had no choice but to watch as the Tiny Town thugs hog-tied Danny with twine.

"Well done, Piero." Dawson said. "And that’s your assistant, correct?” He gestured to Joe. “Two Italians to one Irishman. Looks like the Italian ward gets to throw the first torch."

"What!? No! Joe’s part of my ward! We’re the ones who caught him!" Tim squealed.

Dawson simply rolled his eyes and strutted off as Tim chased after him and begged him to reconsider.

Joe, meanwhile, sidled in as close as he could to Danny while the militia kept close watch over them both.

"Pssst!" Danny breathed. "Joe. Listen to me. Don't do anything stupid."

"I think it's a bit too late for that." Joe whispered.

He straightened up and tried to act natural as the stern eyes of a townie moved in his direction, then wandered away again.

"Look. If we wanna get out of this, we're gonna have to work smart. They're probably gonna burn me at dawn. I'll need to get out of there by then. My tunnels are blocked off and the guards are on high alert. You got ID?"

Joe shook his head.

"You got scraps?"

"No." Joe whispered, then his mind turned back to what Tim had said earlier. "But I know how to get some."

"Then get some." Danny hissed. "You can pay your way in if you're lucky. Tell them you lost your ID or something. I'll be at the garrison building."

"Why did you even go through all this trouble? What'd you grab from Dawson?" Joe asked.

Information. Here, grab my collar -"

Before Joe could uncover the method to his madness, a large boot stomped down onto the side of Danny’s head so hard the impact drew blood. Two heavy hands then gripped Danny's shoulders and hoisted him up from the ground. The detective gave Joe a look that said, good luck and Joe's blood froze as he watched the Tiny Town militia drag him away.

A different hand clapped Joe's shoulder.

"Damn eye-talians get to throw the first torch. Absolute rubbish! There must’ve been a mistake at the registry. No way you’re one of those eye-talians! I'll throw my second torch in Piero's ugly snout, I will!" Tim groused.

Joe was too tired to be scandalized by Tim's words. He had a job to do, and he had to get it done quickly, so he said,

"Take it easy, Tim. I got something that'll cheer you up! About that shiny you were looking for..."

Joe crept across Harry's nightstand in the dark of midnight and tried to get his bearings. It had been days since he had been in the upstairs room, and although not much had changed since he had left, the layout of any giant room always threatened to confuse and disorient him. He thought back to the borrowing skills his brother had taught him and tried his best to remember them: stay low, step lightly, always track the giant. How strange it was to move around Harry as though he were an enemy.

The giant himself was sleeping peacefully in the bed beside him, and as Joe looked over he was hit with a twinge of bitter nostalgia at the sight of Harry's neck. Intent as he was on saving Danny, he wanted more than anything for things to go back to how they had been before, back when they had gotten along, when times had been peaceful and Joe had been happy. So lost was he in thought that, when the new companion who occupied Harry's nightstand flapped its wings and beat against its enclosure, Joe flinched and stumbled over in shock.

Glowing in the moonlight was a glass jar that contained a little white butterfly, one that Harry had taken in as a caterpillar no doubt.

Joe looked at it sadly, admiring the many facets in its compound eyes, the little hairs on its antennas, the black spots on its rear wings. It too studied him from its prison for a moment, then went back to flapping about in search of freedom.

To most giants it was of little consequence. To Joe, it was just another thing in a cage.

Joe stepped back and hid behind the jar as Harry, snoring, rolled over to face him. When the giant was done moving, Joe peered out from his hiding place and set his sights on the desk across the room where the ring box lay in waiting. He traced his eyes from the box, to the chair in front of the desk, to a shirt on the back of that chair which Harry had carelessly thrown aside. A sleeve trailed down and touched the floor. That was Joe's entryway.

Stepping across the open book on the nightstand, Joe ignored Sun Tzu's warning:

If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat.

He hopped down and darted in the direction of the fallen sleeve with his eyes set on the prize. Soon he was atop the chair, and he ran across the back of it and leapt from the part nearest the desktop onto the surface below.

Harry grunted in his sleep at the sound of Joe's shoes hitting the table.

Grasping the end of the hairpin and pulling it from his belt, Joe approached the metal box and started heaving it open. Soon the heavy lid was lifted, and Joe wedged Danny's pin into the box to keep it open, compensating for the box's long-broken spring. In the low light of that summer night, the diamond in the ring glinted at him as if to greet him, and he gazed at it for a moment with a twisted feeling in his stomach.

He turned back and took a good look at Harry, who was still sleeping innocently behind him. Joe knew that what he was about to do would hurt Harry beyond measure.

Then Joe remembered how Harry had treated Danny earlier.

He drew his boot knife from the other side of his belt, reached for the nearest peg that held the jewel in, and began to get to work. Instantly he regretted his choice when he pried too hard and sent one of the pegs spinning out into oblivion.

Harry coughed in his sleep, sending a surge of adrenaline through him. Maybe he could stop, he considered, but the sight of Danny's hairpin and the beating of the butterfly’s wings in the jar and the haunting fear he carried in his heart all bid him to push forward.

Danny was trapped in a den of monsters, and Joe was the only one who could help him. There was no sending a giant to do a tiny's job, not when he considered all the ways Harry would inevitably fail him.

And so Joe pressed forward, jimmying the pin on the other side of the ring, then a third. The diamond they harboured from him began to wiggle and rock like a loose tooth, and Joe's watchmaking instincts kicked in. He pushed the diamond back and forth, back and forth, until it grew looser in his hands. Then, when the diamond was nearly out he began to pull, and this was Joe's near-fatal miscalculation. His fingers slipped from the faceted edge of the gem as he tugged at it, causing him to fall back. His elbow jutted out, making the hairpin turn with just enough force to send it flying out, and in its absence the box's lid fell with a loud snap.

Joe had escaped a beheading by the skin of his teeth. His relationship with Harry wouldn't be so lucky. The giant let out another series of loud, coughing snores, rose from the bed, and... sank down into it again.

Joe shook as he counted the seconds. Harry seemed still, or at the very least still enough, and the rock was almost out. Against his better judgment he let a minute pass before he picked the hairpin back up and attempted to get the box open again.

He had just set the hairpin back in its place when the bedroom light came on.

"What are you doing!?" Shouted the voice of a giant who at that moment was more animal than man.

Joe's heart barely had the time to fall to the pit of his stomach before Harry's hand swiped out towards him and overtook him with near lethal force. Joe closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as he was clutched slightly too tightly in Harry's shaking left hand. When he opened them, he saw that Harry held a now-empty jar in his right as the freed butterfly flapped up to the ceiling.

"Joe... what are you doing to my ring?" Harry asked again, his brown eyes brimming with barely contained anger. All Joe's strength left him and his long-gone stutter came back in full force.

"I c-c-an explain, Harry, r-r-really. Let me explain." Joe said.

"Oh, please do." Harry growled. "Get in here and tell me why you're taking the diamond out of my dead mother's ring."

Joe spun and tumbled as he was carelessly tossed into the jar. For a moment he scrambled, ran, tried to vault and escape, but Harry kept shaking the jar and throwing him off-balance again. When Joe finally gathered his words together, he didn't think twice about giving Harry the honest answer.

"It's D-D-D-Danny." Joe huffed. "Please, Harry, I g-g-gotta borrow this shiny for a bit! I g-g-gotta get into T-T-Tiny Town. Wh-why-why didn’t you-why didn’t-"

Joe stumbled back and sank against the side of the jar in defeat as Harry's angry face towered over him. He squeezed his eyes shut as he continued.

"Why didn’t you help him?” Joe finished.

“Help him?” Harry repeated, his voice laden with skepticism. “Help him with what? He looked fine to me.”

“He’s not fine, Harry! They're gonna kill him by dawn. They're gonna burn him at the stake. The Tiny Town tinies caught him and I need payment to get in and break him out. Didn’t you see them running after him?"

“I saw no such thing.” Harry replied.

“Yeah well maybe you would have if you CARED.” Joe erupted, opening his eyes. His chest heaved as his voice started to give way. "I-wh-what’s wrong with you? Am I the only tiny you even care about!? Please, Harry, please believe me."

The giant let out a sigh so great that it rustled through Joe's clothes and caused condensation to form inside the jar. With a tilted head he peered down at Joe as if evaluating him.

"You're destroying a priceless family heirloom because a pack of tiny thugs are trying to burn Mr. Smalls at the stake...?" Harry repeated.

"Yes." Joe said.

He stood up slowly, unsurely. He already knew from the tone of Harry's voice and the look in his eyes that Harry did not believe him, but he clutched desperately to the hope that he might still convince the giant anyways.

His heart broke as Harry's face fell into a look that Joe had seen all too often in the face of his own mother.

It was a look of disappointment.

"I don't really believe you..." Harry said as he looked from Joe to the ring. "I'm sorry. I think there’s a more likely explanation here."

Joe's eyes narrowed as he wondered if the really and the I'm sorry were supposed to soften the blow somehow. Danny could be slow roasting right now. He didn't have time for this!

"What do you think I'm doing? Wrecking your things for fun?" Joe retorted.

Harry fidgeted nervously and looked anywhere but Joe's eyes.

“...I think you saw me out dancing tonight and you got mad at me for it. That’s why you’re ruining my ring. Bet you’re trying to pay your way into Tiny Town and leave for good, aren’t you?”

"Oh come on, Harry!" Joe said. "You know me, don't you? Can't you just take me at my word here?"

"I..." Harry let out a sigh through his teeth and finally met Joe's gaze. "I don't think I can, Joe. I'm sorry."

"You don't trust me?" Joe shot back.

"I don't trust anyone!" Harry insisted. “People lie and steal. I'm sure you could, too. Isn’t that basically what borrowing is? Miniatures never give the things they take away back!"

For a moment Joe was utterly lost for words. It was the sort of ignorant thing he would expect to hear from Gutters, not Harry.

“No. Fuck you, Harry." Joe spat. "You think you know more about what I am than I do? You think whatever preconceived notions you have top my lived experiences? That I'm just some mischief-making sneak-thief out to take your jewels!? I thought better of you than that, Harry."

Harry jabbed a finger down at Joe's face.

"And I thought better of you than destroying my things!" Harry was on the verge of shouting too now, but Joe didn't divert his defiant gaze for a second.

Seeing this, the giant reached up towards a shelf and pulled down a piece of paper.

“See this? This is a title deed. It says this is my house.” Harry pressed the deed against the glass of the jar, then slammed it down onto the desk. “You have no right to behave this way in my house. I thought we had gotten over this.”

"Then help me, Harry!" Joe begged. "Help me save him! Get me a different shiny so I won't have to screw this ring up! Or find some other way to sneak me in!"

"In order to do that I'd have to trust you." Harry said as he screwed the jar shut. "But I don't, so you're going to stay in here for a while."

Joe did not kick or scream or jostle or fight. Instead, as Harry calmly set the jar on the shelf, he said,

"You're just like those other doctors. Making me prove shit to you. My honesty, my capabilities, my own fucking humanity, and no matter what I do it's never enough! You don't want it to be enough because your mind's already been made up! I know now that nothing I say or do is gonna change your mind and I'm tired of jumping through hoop after hoop after hoop just to get you to take me seriously."

Joe crossed his arms and slid down against the glass of the jar until he was sitting at the bottom. Deep inside his heart he wondered what it was and where it was Harry had picked these uncharitable ideas up from. This wasn’t the Harry he knew.

"So go ahead, put me in a jar if it makes you feel better.” Joe continued. “It won't change anything. I'm still gonna be me, and you're still gonna be you."

As he turned away, the giant side-eyed Joe through the glass. Harry didn't speak until his back was fully turned.

"You're right." He said. "It's just as you said. I'm the giant, and you're the tiny."

Joe tossed his head back and huffed in response.

"In that case, you can have your name back, Herman."

Harry had reached the doorway now, and Joe couldn't be fully certain if the giant would even hear what he said next. Some part of Joe hoped he never would hear it over the sound of the knocking on the door downstairs.

"...I gave you that name because I love you."

The back of the giant’s head lingered in the doorway.

"...go to hell." Said Herman.

With that, he left the room.

Joe rubbed his face and found to his surprise that he wasn't crying. He was burning with determination instead. The pain had turned into something beyond pain, something that Joe couldn’t even care enough to feel. Whatever this emotion was, Joe was used to it. He had felt it all throughout his life. For that reason alone, he felt oddly free as his finger traced the shape of a cross in the butterfly dust that lined the jar. He no longer had any reason to hope for anything better.

Yet even when he had nothing left in the world, Joe still had art, or perhaps art would always have him. So he placed all his concentration in drawing that little cross, and, partially through nostalgia and partially through force of habit, he found himself in prayer to none other than Saint Loretta. Not the elaborate prayer his mother had recited which he had since long forgotten, but a borrower’s rhyme he had learned from a nursery book as a boy:

Saint Loretta help me out,

There's a rotten giant about!

He rose, repeating it under his breath as he readied himself and flung his body against the side of the jar.

The glass barely budged.

Again he prayed, and again he slammed himself against the glass, looking for the perfect point that would send it rocking from side to side.

It was like the watchmaker's, he noted. He had to work up a rhythm.

His efforts fell in step with the words of the rhyme as he counted each prayer. By the twentieth attempt the jar wobbled. By the fortieth it fell on its side, but faced the wrong way to roll from the shelf. By attempt number sixty, which had Joe wheezing, he had spun it all the way around to the other wrong angle. Finally, by attempt number eighty-three, the jar was in perfect position to roll off and fall. All the while he remained ever vigilant for fear that the giant might come back up the stairs and undo all his efforts.

It was on his eighty-fourth prayer, one for each day and each night that Saint Loretta had been trapped in her own jar long ago, that Joe dashed towards the glass and crashed into it with all his might. His head spun as his prison fell onto the floorboards below and shattered into a mess of jagged shards, leaving him gazing up at the bedroom light in a daze.

Miraculously, he got up from the wreckage mostly unscathed save for a scraped knee. Even more miraculously, the sound of the shattering jar had not yet attracted the rotten giant’s attention.

Soaked in sweat and with his blood boiling, Joe climbed back up the shirt sleeve that the giant had been too stupid to move and soon found himself back on the chair again. He leapt over to the ring box and continued his work.

With a twist of his bootknife, Joe had his prize. Somberly he looked down at the glimmering facets of the diamond as voices rose and fell downstairs.

Joe knew how much pain he would cause by doing this. Oh, how much he knew.

Unfortunately for the both of them, all was fair in the art of love and war.

Next chapter coming soon!

#oh my goddd #oh mygod #RAAAAAAAASGHHHHHHHHHH #it hurts #ow #oweww

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ravetillyoucry · 1 month ago

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I am terribly sorry for not posting anything 😭

You see, the school has started and i can't find time to BREATHE

The school already consumes almost all my day and there is a lot of homeworks like the school isn't enough… So here you go here's some wips from previous pages! I'm actually surprised I've never shared these but hey now i have some stuff to fill the space!

Gonna save the others for later 🤭

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ravetillyoucry · 1 month ago

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Strength

Part 36 of my story! Read the index and content warnings here.

A character has a seizure in this.

“You still haven’t answered me.” Said Susie in the soldierly tone that so unnerved Harry.

She scanned his features from across the white-clothed table at the Sunnyside Pavilion where they had stopped to rest. Try as he might, Harry had not been able to get her to let the subject go.

“Answered what?” He replied, in yet another futile attempt at evasion.

She leaned in with her shoulders hunched like a cat about to pounce and for the umpteenth time she repeated,

“Why can’t you try being honest?”

Harry scratched at his neck and disappointment sank in when he felt the microscopic knots Joe had tied in his hair finally coming undone. Harry was coming undone along with them. His cheeks were burning and his eyes were, too. That placid lake of apathy he harbored inside of him was swelling up now to the point it rivaled the immensity of the sea, and in his mind he sat at the bottom of it, bearing its weight the way Atlas himself bore the world.

It threatened to crush him.

“I…” Was all he could squeeze out before his spirit buckled over under the immeasurable weight and he was forced to confess. “…I’m afraid.” The words felt as though they had been spoken not so much by him, but through him.

Susie’s eyebrows rose and she remained ever fixated on him.

“Of what?”

Harry lowered his shaking hand and folded it over the table along with the other. He kept his eyes fixed on both as though they were an antidote to his shame.

“Of you. Of myself. Of everyone. Of being hurt by people if they knew the truth.” He said.

“What is the truth?” Susie pressed.

As Harry examined his hands he kept wishing Joe would crawl out of them.

“That I’m different from other people.” He explained as his heart hammered away with electric force. “Different in a way they won’t like. Different in a way they wouldn’t understand or possibly even believe. When you’re different… that’s what people do. They hurt you.”

His eyes crept up to Susie’s again, and he watched her toss her bobbed hair in a way that Harry had gleaned from other men was supposed to be pretty.

“Maybe they will hurt you.” Susie’s answer surprised Harry. “That’s not something you have any control over. I mean-” Susie leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs in boyish fashion. “Do you know how many men have called me fat, stupid, and ugly because I refuse to marry them? Do you know how many more see my diagnosis, and see this big scary thing they gotta run from? I’ve heard everything, Herm. One boy told my mother I was demonically possessed and she nearly believed it! That’s the price you have to pay when you’re honest.”

The coldness of the mud below crept up to Harry’s ankles.

“What do you even get out of being honest?” That same coldness crept into his voice as he spoke.

“Freedom.” She said.

Harry couldn’t imagine a world where that were true. He could not imagine a world that loved him enough to make it true. Hiding was what he knew but he could not do that now, so his mind did the hiding for him. He looked down at his hands and looked up again at the British bloke who was now screaming before him. Beyond him an endless stretch of mud and bodies spilled out towards the enemy trench.

“COME ON, LAD! GET A MOVE ON!” The Tommy roared.

“Where’s Georgie?” Harry asked the man who was not there.

The soldier’s gloved hand clapped his shoulder and wrenched him forwards.

“NO TIME FOR THAT NOW. MOVE IT!” The bloke ordered.

“I want Georgie!” Harry cried, and repeated it over and over, “I want Georgie! I want Georgie! I want…

…Joe?”

A new set of slender hands gripped his tear-stained face and a pair of dark eyes that were not Joe’s, yet still just as kind, gazed into his.

“Hey. You’re bigger than this.” The woman who was not Joe assured him.

She ran a hand through Harry’s hair and gently released him into the smaller world outside of his body. His eyes darted about in shame until they landed back on his hands. They were pale as Georgie’s had been.

“I know it’s scary but you need freedom, Herm. You need to find the people who understand you. Who care for you. That’s what I do every time I come out here, I look for new people and see if they’re my people. Maybe they are, maybe they aren't. There's only one way to find out.”

Questions flooded from Harry along with the tears.

“What if there isn’t anybody? What if I try and it doesn’t work? What if they don’t listen or believe me or care about me? Susie, I… what if I go through all this trouble telling my father I don’t want to marry and he forces me to do it anyways?”

“Then you keep fighting.” Susie said. “It’s all you can do. That’s what strength is, real strength, not that poppycock they teach you in gym class. You know yourself and you know what’s true and what’s good for you, and you fight for it.”

Harry wrung his quivering hands. He didn’t feel like much of a fighter lately. He was too unhappy.

“Sometimes we’re honest and people hurt us. Sometimes being honest with the people we’re closest to is the scariest thing you can ever do because of that. Sometimes they already have these preconceived notions of who you are and what they think you should do and how you should be. You gotta fight it, though, Herm, because to do anything less than that is to die. And me, I’m sick of killing myself slowly. I’d rather be reviled for my honestly than a well-respected liar.”

She reached a hand out towards his.

“I don’t want to marry you, and you don’t want to marry me. Now mother just has to get with the program. Waddaya say?”

Harry clutched Susie’s hand as though it were his last source of strength left in the world. The two ambled down the boardwalk as the day’s worth of pent-up rain finally fell. All the while he turned Susie’s words over in his mind as the raindrops sputtered down, examining them as though they were the facets of a gem.

Freedom. Strength. Harry had not been free or strong, in hindsight, not really. Instead he had simply cowered and deferred and quietly hoped the problem would go away. He should have known that by doing so it would only grow and fester like a wound.

“You know, the funny thing is, when I go to Sunnyside more than once a week I do start to get auras.” Susie admitted. “I have to keep track of my visits, but mother doesn’t trust that I’m able to do that.”

Susie stopped and looked him in the eyes again. There was a hint of impishness in her face when she asked,

“Do you trust I can do it, doctor?”

Harry’s head quivered into a nod. He trusted her more than he did her mother, he realized. He had no choice but to do so when they were both facing down the same enemy.

The two had barely cleared the grounds of the Pavilion when a familiar voice cut through the night. It started small, buried beneath the sound of the rain, then grew louder and louder until Harry had no choice but to acknowledge it.

“Hey doc! Doc!”

Harry released Susie’s hand and turned around to see a small figure waving its arms over its head as the raindrops pelted it from above. Tiny footsteps grew louder and louder, unsynchronized, shuffling ones, as though the figure were limping.

It was none other than Danny Smalls, and the man looked utterly shaken.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. So Danny’s little date with Joe hadn’t panned out after all, he thought.

“Doctor Avery, listen – ” Danny began.

Harry Avery couldn’t listen. The jealousy that had so infected him bid him to turn away. It was Joe Harry cared about, not Danny, and he was not yet aware that this choice would soon be his undoing.

“Is there something there, Herm?” Asked Susie.

“Just a rat or something.” Harry said, and the two continued on their way.

Her date now over, Susie stopped outside of the doors of the rickety apartment building she now called home and rubbed her temples.

“You okay?” Asked Harry, though he could tell just by looking at her what the answer was.

“Just getting ready for it…” Susie murmured.

“For what?”

Susie said nothing. Instead she straightened her hat and squared her jaw and marched across the no man’s land of the building’s entryway.

Harry could already guess what was about to happen, but he was still caught by surprise when a voice erupted so loudly from the upstairs window that it caused the building itself to shake.

“SUUUUUUUUUSIIIIIIIE GERLADIIIIIINE WILKIIIIIINS! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!?” Thundered the vicious voice of Agatha Wilkins.

“Coming, mother!” Susie didn’t shout the words so much as croak them out.

With each click of Susie’s heels Harry saw the power draining out of her and his heart broke at the sight. Susie’s fingers ran over the sides of her head once more as she winced in pain.

Maybe, Harry thought, maybe people could cause seizures. Certainly a particularly stressful person would be no good for poor Susie. The motion of Susie’s hand wavered as she pulled out her key to open the lock. At the same time, heavy footsteps tramped down the upstairs hallway, and at the top towered Aggie Wilkins, who looked like she was about to breathe fire.

“Susie!” She barked at the weakening girl. “You get up here right this instant! How DARE you show our dear dinner guest such blatant, flagrant, SHAMELESS disrespect! A doctor, no less!”

“Yes mother.” Said Susie robotically as Mrs. Wilkins stormed all the way down the stairs and wrenched Susie’s arm, pulling her towards the top of them.

Harry wanted to intervene, but he didn’t know how. Standing still and staying silent was simply what you did when an older person was angry. His own father had taught him that.

“Get up here and get changed THIS INSTANT you rotten little tramp! You ought to be thankful if this good doctor will still see you after this little stunt!” Aggie kept ranting.

“Yes mother.” Susie repeated as her body began to twitch.

“If I had known I would have such a wretched, ungrateful girl as you I would have-”

Susie was halfway up the stairs with her mother when it happened. Her body seized up and began to spasm, causing her to slip like a discarded doll out of her mother’s grasp. She fell backwards, her head destined for the sharp edge of the concrete stair below.

Then the working arms of noble farmhand Harry Avery reached out to catch her as he played knight in shining armour with seamless grace. He set her down at the base of the stairs and lay her on her side.

The moment Susie was on the ground, Aggie became a completely different person. She scuttled back down the stairs and fanned her hands in hysteria.

“Ooooh, oh Susie!” She cried, now on the verge of tears. “Oh, my poor SUSIE! My poor, sweet dear! Please don’t do this!”

Aggie shuffled and stepped about as Harry crouched over the girl. Then she wailed the same words Harry himself had said mere hours earlier:

“I’m trying to help you!”

That was all Harry could take.

“You’re not helping her, Mrs. Wilkins!” Harry finally snapped. “Stand back, please! Stand back!”

The mother, now sheepish, followed the doctor's orders.

Harry sighed and rolled up his jacket, placing it under Susie’s head.

“She’ll come out of it in a moment.” He explained to Aggie.

“Will she?” Aggie’s tone sounded a little too intrigued by this prospect. Quickly she added, “…tell me, doctor Avery, are you married by any chance? I don’t see a ring…” Aggie wrung her hands sheepishly at him, not once letting him get a word in, “I merely mention because as you can see, this world is so dangerous for dear Susie here, and improper as it may be to suggest this, I think a doctor like yourself would make a fine husband for a girl like her, wouldn’t you agree?”

There it was. Agatha Wilkins’ master plan, set in motion. Susie had been right: Mrs. Wilkins was doing all she could to tug on Harry’s heartstrings in the hopes he would put a ring on her daughter.

Hot rage rose from within Harry like steam. It blazed behind his eyes as he shot Mrs. Wilkins a look that set her fluttering hands perfectly still.

“I think Susie can decide for herself what’s good for her.” He growled.

Aggie appeared utterly stunned, as though this were the first time in her life someone had ever said no to her, and now Harry understood what it truly meant to be strong. Harry held her gaze as the old woman’s face contorted into something witch-like and ugly. He steeled himself in preparation for the worst.

Before Aggie could protest, Susie groaned in confusion and began to awaken, and the old woman went back to playing the fawning mother.

“Susie, oh Susie, wake up my darling…” She cooed.

Harry, who had seen enough for the night, helped Susie to her feet when she was ready.

“I’m going to take you upstairs.” He whispered to the still-disoriented Susie.

“Hey, thanks.” Susie slurred, giggling. “You’re really strong.”

“So are you.” Said Harry.

Harry was not fond of the fact that he had seen himself in Aggie that night. He walked through the light rain as he set off for Danforth and thought about freedom, and strength, and Joe. He replayed every exchange between them through fresh eyes, what he could only hope were Joe’s eyes, and saw all the ways he had gone wrong, and all the things he didn’t say, and all the things he should have said, things he feared it was now too late to say.

He had to apologize, that much was clear. That was his plan: to go home, to get some sleep, and to apologize to Joe. He would say he was sorry, and he would say it honestly, along with something else he had been hiding from his dear companion for far too long.

What Harry did not anticipate was that Joe might have plans of his own.

To all the people in my life who taught me how to be strong. Next part coming soon!

#Oh.#OH……. OH………#💔💔💔#But also #❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️#AUGH #AUGHHHHHHH #MY HEART #MY MIND #MY BODY #MY SOUL #Has been crumpled up #Then straightened out

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