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[ravetillyoucry]

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!

[ravetillyoucry]

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 🤭

[ravetillyoucry]

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!

[ravetillyoucry]

Once Hosah moves in with Teddy would he ever wear one of Teddy’s clothes? Like in a moment of sentimentality and he misses Teddy?

Sharing clothes when Size Difference is hard but it will be done. Homosexuality prevails all!

[ravetillyoucry]

Goth gf moment

[ravetillyoucry]

i love these two I’m going to die sob sniff I’m addicted to fluff

[ravetillyoucry]

Tiny fairy being let out of the cup it’s been trapped under only to immediately try and escape through a window that is actually closed, smacking face first into it and splatting onto the headboard where the giant now has to scoop them up and nurse them back to health

the tiny fairy: my gods, how powerful is this human to have invisible forcefields in their home? I’m now trapped in this house of madness.

the human: awww what a clumsy lil guy. adorable. lets get you patched up buddy

[ravetillyoucry]

rewatching hannibal and pointing to all the puparia references like i didn’t just take direct inspiration from the show when i started the writing process

[ravetillyoucry]

PUPARIA

Chapter 25 - Knuckle Velvet [PART 1]

prev - chapter 1

It really was a good thing Hosah had only just checked that day how many vacation days he had left for the year.

The pair sat, quietly, in the near empty diner on a particularly cold late November evening. The shifter still wasn't quite sure what the phone call was about, but whatever it was, had troubled Teddy beyond comprehension. He just ate in silence, not even looking in Hosah's direction, where he sat on his knees with his hands rested atop of Teddy's fist.

Hosah could watch all he liked, but that same thousand yard stare Teddy gave to the wall in front of him still wouldn't answer his burning questions.

The giant blinked, clearing his throat as he finally glanced down, as brief as it was, "Oh. Sorry. I didn't.. How rude of me, you want some? Here."

Teddy tore a small piece of whatever it was he ordered off between his fingertips, and handed it to the shifter before he was able to really get a straight answer. It would've been 'I'm good, thanks', but, Hosah didn't really feel as though he was in the right place to be declining any offers.

"I guess we've both had a pretty bad day." Teddy sighed. The fist Hosah leant against opened up, his own hands sliding off the back of it, only for the palm to curl around his frame as gently as it could.

There was no protest when Teddy rested his head against the table, as badly as the shifter wanted to tell him how unsanitary it was, and there was even less of one when the hand behind him pushed Hosah closer, his knees practically under Teddy's nose by now.

In the moment, Hosah couldn't tear his eyes away from the giant's face, even as his hot breath tickled at his skin through the tiny gaps between the buttons of his shirt. His fingertips were about the size of the freckles painted across Teddy's face. If he weren't so close, and if he weren't so small, he probably would've never noticed them at all. In a comforting motion, Hosah brought his hand to the bridge of the nose, and traced along every single one of them.

"It'll be okay." The shifter whispered, "It has to be."

He didn't even know what exactly it was that was wrong in the first place, but, by god would he do everything in his power to fix it.

It seemed like today was one of those days. Teddy was weird, very weird. Sometimes, it felt like he was avoiding the shifter, unable to get far enough away, avoiding touching him, doing everything in his power to make it so Hosah could do things independently. It wasn't like it was an entirely bad thing, it was just.. Strange. Other times, however, he was the complete opposite. His hand would come out of nowhere, cradling around him in a similar fashion to how it was now, Teddy physically couldn't get any closer than he was already in those moments. It was so, so confusing. Hosah could never tell which it'd be.

"Once the money comes in, I'll have more than enough to fly us both out to Italy and back, then we won't miss it." Teddy muttered, most likely speaking to himself more than to the shifter.

Hosah didn't quite know what 'it' was, but he could make a few educated guesses with how the sentence was phrased, and how Teddy had reacted entirely.

It was weird to hear the giant laugh, especially given the weight of what he was implying, and the weight of his laugh itself as the sound vibrated through Hosah's entire, tiny body, shaking him to his core in a way that could only be described as perfectly overwhelming.

"I've wanted to take you since the day I met you," He sighed, the hot breath ruffling Hosah's coat, "To where I grew up. I don't know, it feels like.. That would be far easier than telling you anything. I'm not a very good story teller."

"You're a good story teller." Hosah kneaded at the bridge of the giants nose, a far gentler way to playfully jab at him, especially when in such a fragile state.

"If I'm good or if I'm terrible, this is still sort of a good thing. I feel like I should be sadder, but I'm not really upset, per se. It's given me the perfect excuse to drag you out of the country." Teddy had more to say, the shifter could tell with how he ended his sentence in a sigh, but he refrained from saying it for a good while.   ".. I don't have to be so afraid anymore too. To go back. It's- Now that my grandmother's, well.. Gone. I'm finally safe forever, it feels."

Huh. Hosah didn't think he could do much other than be there. So, be there he did. The shifter didn't stop stroking the bridge of Teddy's nose, even when leaning his body against it. This was the closest he could get to hugging him at this size, as frustrating as that was.

"And.." Teddy filled the silence, "It gives us a good excuse to cut work for the rest of the week."

That was true. Very, very true indeed. A funeral was a mighty good excuse for time off, that was for certain. It was only Wednesday, but something about the joint events of today really made Hosah not want to get up at stupid o'clock in the morning the following day.

As the shifter stroked up and down the perfectly straight slope that nuzzled into him, he couldn't help but wonder what exactly Teddy had meant. His grandmother was dead, seemingly, but the giant had never had a bad word to say about his upbringing, especially his grandparents. Maybe he was better at hiding things than Hosah had initially assumed. It wasn't his business to press, and by god would it be an awful time to do so, but that didn't stop him from wondering.

-~-

After a streak of bad luck, it seemed that things could only go up from there, and up they went.

Hosah managed to grow back to his usual height, all their trains arrived on time, and they arrived in New Jersey with a travel time of just under two hours.

The plan was to stay the night at Teddy's parent's place, and then they'd all collectively fly the following morning in order to make both funeral and care arrangements for his grandfather. Neither of them were sure why it was decidedly easier this way, but, Teddy was strangely adamant on the plan either way.

It had been a breeze, surprisingly, with their bags already packed the night before, and everything having fallen perfectly into place was certainly a refreshing sight. Maybe this was it. A sign. The total lack of the usual chaos doing its best to tell the pair that what they were doing was right. Now that Hosah was off the case, he could seriously start taking his plans into consideration. The cabin on the lake, that was the end goal, but, some compromises could be made. After all, the northern Italian countryside didn't sound so bad, not bad at all.

Things really seemed to be working in their favour, before Teddy made a point to stop right at the front door of his parents house, just to say-

"Before we go in, just know, I'm sorry in advance, and we're.. probably gonna have to be discreet about, well, what we are. I should've told you that earlier, but,"

"No," Hosah interrupted, "Its okay. Whatever they're like, I can handle, and I wasn't really interested in having your dead grandma be the catalyst to the whole 'meet my partner' deal, so.."

Teddy didn't look too convinced, but, all he could really do was sigh and nod as he knocked on the door, just twice, letting go of the shifter's hands in the process. He was starting to miss the touch already.

The house was stunning, Hosah could say that much. White panel, suburban neighbourhood, well-maintained front yard, all the works. Truly the american dream, he thought to himself.

He knew Teddy's parents had money, but, this was just absurd. It was nothing close to the likes of Arthur Emily and his... 'humble' abode, but it was definitely nice. It was the kind of neighbourhood he and his mother would drive down back home, making up stories about who they thought lived in each extortionately expensive house, what they'd do with the yard or the interior. The memory only added to Hosah's nerves, being so used to just windows shopping out of the car from a distance, he felt almost unworthy of stepping inside, but it was far too late to turn back now.

It really didn't take too long at all before the door cracked open, a woman at the other side of it. She and Teddy whispered to eachother in a language the shifter couldn't understand before the door opened entirely. Just by looking at her, anyone could tell it was Teddy's mother. Their faces were near identical, and if it weren't for the fact she was clearly older, along with her warmer complexion and darker features, they could've been mistaken for twins. Another thing they had in common was being tall, as when Hosah stood up to shake her hand, he realised she definitely had a good couple of inches on him.

Hosah smiled as warmly as he could, "Oh wow, Mrs-"

"It's Miss Altieri now. Thank you. You are the roommate I hear so much about." Miss Altieri smiled back, although her perfectly straight posture and firm, unbroken handshake only served to make Hosah cower back slightly as he nodded.

".. Ah, right, apologies. You have a beautiful home."

She shook her head, her hand still holding onto the shifter's, practically pulling him inside whilst Teddy followed, "No need. All is well. Edward, what happened to Penny? You bring your girlfriend to these sorts of things, not your roommate." She still had a smile on her face, not quite matching her overly serious tone of voice, "... No offence."

Teddy nearly choked on his breath as he shut the door behind him, "Oh, wow, that's a.. name I haven't heard in a while. I haven't seen her since highschool. Long.. long over now."

As badly as the shifter wanted to tease him, he understood the feeling all too well. His dad still asked about Jules and whether he'd thought about proposing any time soon, no matter how many times he clarified that they were never together in the first place. Instead, he gave Teddy a smile that said 'I'll be bringing this up later'.

"Penny was such a nice girl. I still speak to her father, she's in medical school you know. Uh.. you, you talk some sense into him, okay?" Teddy's mother slipped up slightly when she went to address Hosah, clearly not having been told as much about him as she initially claimed.

She turned to her son, whispering something that the shifter still couldn't understand.

"Hosah." was all Teddy said in response, although it clearly wasn't supposed to be addressed to the man himself who the name belonged to. Yeah, he could probably guess what exactly she'd asked.

The most the shifter could do in this scenario was stand there, awkwardly, lingering around like a bad smell.

"Yes, right." Miss Altieri placed her hands at either side of his shoulders, "Hosah, you tell him. I need.. I need to make a call. I'll be back."

And in quite the rush, she walked off down the hall, until completely out of sight. Sure, things were awkward, but.. Hosah could handle it. Easily. Surely.

Teddy sighed, rather loudly, his hands cradling his head, "I'm really sorry. This was a bad idea. This was a really bad idea."

".. So who's Penny?" The shifter decided he wouldn't be waiting all too long to get at Teddy for the girl his mother seemed to be stuck on.

He sighed even louder, "The girl I went to prom with. Her name was Penny Lane, like that The Beatles song."

"The one that got away." Hosah smiled, desperately running out of ways to distract both himself and Teddy from just how terrible the situation was.

Hosah couldn't imagine not being close with his parents, and Teddy seemed to be anything but. There was clearly some kind of tension or incident that occurred between him and his family that he hadn't told the shifter about, but he wouldn't push to find those out. It was kind of obvious with the way he acted, now that he thought about it.

"Sure. Fine, let's call her that." Teddy shook his head, his smile, although gentle, still forming at its own pace. A good sign, surely. "What about you, who did you go to prom with?"

Hosah blinked for a moment as he snapped out of this thoughts, "Didn't go." he shrugged.

Teddy's jaw practically dropped to the floor, "How come? You know, you never talk about high school. I don't think I could recall a single thing you've ever told me about the best time of your life."

His voice was sarcastic in the last part, but it was still a phrase that brought a grimace to Hosah's face.

Teddy wasn't so sure why he was so stuck on the topic. The shifter's nonchalance, his vague depictions, were intriguing, sure, but.. That wasn't quite it. Maybe it was the fact his family's home reminded him so deeply of his school days. How he felt as if the whole world were staring down at him, waiting to do something, anything, that would draw attention. Waiting for whatever it was that festered inside of him that made him so distinctly subhuman to crawl out, so they could crush and destroy it as soon as possible. Who 'they' were, Teddy wasn't sure of. His family, his classmates, maybe Hosah.

No. Probably not Hosah. Definitely not.

"We didn't really.. do prom. I don't talk about it because only losers talk about highschool ten years later." It was an unnecessarily cold way to put it, but it was a topic Hosah avoided at all costs, even if it meant snapping at someone whilst they were freshly in the first stage of grief.

Teddy hummed a quiet noise before promptly moving on to the next topic of conversation. One thing Hosah particularly enjoyed about the man was his ability to take a hint, even if his primal urge to do the exact opposite was obvious given the look on his face.

"Did you pack all of your.. er- Medications?" The shifter had no idea why Teddy danced around the word, hell, even the topic as a whole, but now probably wasn't a great time to question it.

Hosah sighed and nodded, "Yep, all of it."

It would be a nightmare if he were to shrink and get stuck whilst they were away. There'd be so many complications. How would they approach Teddy's family about it, how would they get through the airport? It was a situation that kept the shifter up the night before, drenched in a cold sweat, all the different terrible scenarios playing out in his head, each with a worse ending than the last. When lying awake at night, the only voice he could hear rattling around in his brain was his father's. How he should've just come home, never having left in the first place. It was frightening, but he had to be brave, for Teddy's sake.

"All right. Good, cause my mum had a sort of 'post-divorce crisis', and now there's a bunch of cats in the house, so.." Teddy paced circles around the shifter, a smile on his face despite his behaviour clearly showing just how stressed he also was.

No matter how hard Teddy would try to hide how he felt, there was always something glaringly obvious that gave him away. A look in his eye, a nervous twitch, a small curl of his lips into that god forsaken smile. He was an open book, really, you just needed to pay extra attention.

Hosah kept his voice to a whisper, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just getting antsy waiting for my sister to get here. I've told you before, she's basically my twin, you'd like her. You will like her." Teddy shook his head, his eyes darting everywhere, landing on everything but the shifter in front of him. At least his readability gave Hosah the reassurance that he'd never be able to lie or keep anything from him.

Aurelia was the only person Teddy had fond memories of before the age of about fifteen or so, although he'd always hold a grudge regarding the fact she got such a beautiful name, whilst he was left thoughtlessly with someone else's. She was successful in all the ways he wasn't. A useful degree, a stable job and a family, a husband she could introduce to their parents without shame or the threat of disownment. Teddy wasn't angry, he just seethed with sadness. Especially when he looked at Hosah and thought of all the things he desperately needed to do with him, that he'd only be able to do in secret.

Hosah nodded, adopting that same look of subtle disbelief, but dropping the topic either way, their conversation jumping from one thing to another by now as each road they went down ultimately stopped at the dead end of discomfort. Maybe Teddy didn't have the kind of success that would make his parents happy, but he definitely had the kind that made himself happy. He didn't reach out and wrap his arms around Hosah, even though he wanted to, desperately.

"Okay.." The echoing sound of high-heeled shoes against tiled floors filled the room, "Your father is arriving with Aurelia, they're both in her car."

Teddy's mother looked frazzled. More so than before, which seemed impossible until it was in fact proven to be quite the opposite. Even Teddy himself wasn't too sure on what or why exactly they were so tense with each other, and he didn't really care to find out either.

There wasn't much to say. Nobody dared to speak, letting the air conditioner- which most definitely didn't need to be on during the winter months, whir and fill the heavy silence of the room.

"Well." She sighed, "How do you feel about cats? Edward, go find the cats, they love to meet new people."

"He's allergic." Teddy interjected, already feeling his energy being drained with every passing second of being 'home'.

The truth was, Teddy had only been to this particular house a few times since moving out. His parents bought it shortly after both of their children had left the nest, annoyingly. It was beautiful, but, it wasn't home.

"It's okay, I've taken my allergy medication." Hosah was a dog person. "I love cats. Great, great creatures."

-~-

The pair had been sitting, awkwardly listening to Teddy's mother's stories of what she'd been up to and all the gossip she'd heard, for upwards of three quarters of an hour, until the rattling of the front door handle could be heard, along with a good two or three voices and sets of footsteps that followed shortly after.

Hosah usually wasn't so bad with people. He wasn't a particularly shy individual, despite the odds that stacked against him. That being said, he had no clue why his palms were so sweaty, why his stomach twisted into knots as he stood, and why he so desperately wished to stay sat with the ball of transferable white fur Teddy's mother called a cat.

There was probably a reason to why the shifter felt so awkward and uncomfortable when in the presence of a cat, at least in comparison to that of another person or a dog. They seemed to be far more intelligent than Hosah could ever dream of being. Silently judging, in a way that he'd never be able to understand, even if they could verbalise their thoughts about him. Just now was the first time he'd ever had the species willingly approach and sit on him, although he had no idea how to approach it, or, her, himself.

The fact Teddy's family seemed to be made up entirely of cat people didn't put his mind at ease in the slightest, especially not when he'd have to be confronted with just how damp his hands really were in the common courtesy of a handshake.

Aurelia wasn't much like anything the shifter had previously pictured her as in his head whenever she came up in an anecdote or conversation. He'd always pictured her as Teddy, but, a girl, in a way. They looked the exact same in his head, but his brain just knew the difference between them, man and woman, brother and sister. She was not in fact a carbon copy of her brother, and their appearance most definitely differed, quite dramatically. Aurelia was far warmer. Where Teddy's cheeks and nose would be nipped pink with cold, hers remained untouched, her entire face and what Hosah could see of her body being perfectly bronzed, a similar shade to himself, give or take a good few tones lighter, of course. The warmth didn't just stop at her natural colour palette, but extended in the way she dressed. Earthly, bright, and pretty shades of yellow and beige, in the form of a thick cardigan-coat combination type piece, with a long plaid skirt in a darker brownish colour that went past her knees but not quite to her ankles. If it were on anyone else, Hosah would've thought it to look rather frumpy, like something you'd picture in your head if someone were to say 'librarian', but Aurelia much more closely resembled that of a young, motherly elementary school teacher.

He found himself staring quite a bit at her face before really making a point to speak up, given how visible it was. He'd usually have to crane his neck up to get a good look at Teddy's. Now that he stared, intently, he could see the similarities between herself and her brother. She had a soft, pretty, princess look to her, if that made any sense. Like Natalie Portman, if he squinted his eyes just the right amount. Hosah found himself so immersed in her face, that he didn't even notice her husband, or the baby on his hip, as they entered alongside.

Teddy was right, they'd probably like each other.

"You." Aurelia turned straight towards the shifter, having given her greetings to everyone else, just about, "I've heard so much about you."

Hosah was quite used to the touchy type, being raised in a family where saying 'no' to a hug simply wasn't a thing that could ever even be considered, but the way Aurelia pulled him in and held him closely wasn't anything like that. It was as if they'd known each other before, a reuniting hug, sort of. He supposed that made sense, given how he practically already knew her given how much it seemed Teddy spoke about the both of them to each other. They'd met before, through word of mouth.

It wasn't until Aurelia had let him go that Hosah was able to speak, "I've heard a lot about you too. It's about time we met." He turned to Teddy, tilting his head with a smile.

"What an occasion to bring us together." Teddy sighed with a shake of his head, his hands uncharacteristically planted in either one of his pant pockets. Huh.

Hosah would've said something had he been given the chance. The air of silence to prompt any kind of response from him was taken right before his eyes, however, in the form of an accent that grated at his brain as if it were a block of fancy cheese.

"Edward!" Unlike his son's voice, which had marinated in American over time, becoming an indistinguishable blend of his native European tongue and that of any other born and raised New Yorker, Teddy's father was distinctly different. British. "How are ya?"

The 'ah' sound in every word he spoke came out unnecessarily long, although it wasn't quite the posh voice he'd envisioned in his head given how he already knew the fact Teddy's dad was from England originally.

Teddy didn't respond, he didn't need to, because his father's mouth operated in a similar fashion to that of a motorboat, as it just never stopped, seemingly.

"You look good, you know. That's what they say though. Grief suits some people, you should've seen me when your other grandma died, whewwwww. Probably the only reason I was able to get that spot past ten on The Travel Channel."

That's right. Hosah knew he recognised him from somewhere, although there weren't many people on TV over here with such a distinguishable sound and look to them. Tony's Tables, that's what it was. The poor man's Gordon Ramsey. God, how ecstatic his own father would be to know he's in Tony Randolph's family home.

"This is Hosah. My roommate." Teddy sounded to be nothing but defeated, as if just the mere presence of his father had knocked him down several pegs of volume entirely, his voice being nothing but a mumble.

Hosah was promptly pushed, albeit gently, forward and toward the overly loud and talkative man that was Teddy's dad. Teddy and Tony was quite the duo name, now that he thought about it.

"Right." Tony didn't sound all too enthusiastic about the introduction. "What, are you lovers too? 'Ts not really a 'bring a mate' sort of deal, is it?"

The room fell quiet at the implication. Maybe things weren't going as well as Hosah had originally thought they were.

[ravetillyoucry]

Starlight over Sunnyside

Part 35 of my story! Read the index and content warnings here.

There were times in Joe's life when he desperately wished that he still had parents. A father who was present physically and emotionally. A mother who didn't stare at her knees and obsess about snatcher conspiracies. Perhaps if that were the case, he would be able to go to those parents, air out all his grievances, and receive advice that was equal parts practical and compassionate. The night of July 17th was one of those times. That night, Joe found himself adrift on a lonely sea, a slave to the tides and turns of the personal failings of himself and others. Instead of his family he clung to Danny's hand as though it were a buoy and strolled with him down the busy streets of the Ward, trying to make do with what little human connection he had.

"...so I spend all week trying to explain how and why he upset me, and when I do what does he say to it? I was just trying to help. Like he doesn't even care or understand or want to understand!"

Danny was nodding along sagely, the tip of the hairpin clicking against the cracked sidewalk over the sound of Joe's troubles. Joe doubted that Danny would be able to say all that much to help him, but stranger things had happened. With his tan brown hat and coat, he reminded Joe of the men on giant book covers, the ones who held revolvers and cigarettes and red-headed women. The giant detectives, who were nothing like Joe’s idea of a detective, who was older and fatter than any giant would expect.

He could only hope that Danny was half as smart as either of them.

"I thought we were pals. I really did." Joe continued. "I'm tired of it, y'know? I'm tired of - of building myself up, only to be let down by people."

"Oh, but that's what people do best!" Danny interjected. "Big people, small people, that's the tragedy of our species. We all crave understanding but we don't know how to give it to each other. I've given up on expecting it from people, and it's done me a world of good."

Joe furrowed his brow at him.

"You have?"

"What else is there left to do in life?" Danny said through a grin.

The warmth in Danny's voice contrasted with the nihilism of what he was saying in a deeply unpleasant way. Joe had thought the movie star happy and well-socialized. Maybe he was playing hard to get, Joe reasoned.

Danny stopped under an old gas lamp that flickered far above them. It was mounted above the left corner of a simple, hand-painted sign that read Giovanni’s.

"You gotta learn to live for more than other people." Danny added. "And have some fun while you do it. This place..." Danny gestured up to the sign with his hair pin. "I think you'll like this place. The chef here's real nice. He can make anything."

Joe pulled back and released Danny's hand.

"You want me to waltz into a giant restaurant? After what that board of doctors wanted to do to me!?"

Danny merely smiled and nodded, and looked as though he were about to laugh at him for good measure. Health hazard that Joe was, he could hardly see this night out ending well.

"Being a pet comes with hidden perks, y'know! I know these people. They'll love you, I promise." Danny assured him.

As Danny extended a hand towards him and beckoned him forward, Joe desperately wished it could be true. Soon he was being led through a pipe that ran from the outside of the doorway straight inside. When he emerged on the other end, he was greeted with the sight of chair legs and the ends of white table cloths. He watched as his chaperone pulled a string that hung next to the doorway, ringing a tiny bell far up above.

A pair of well-seasoned shoes shuffled up to them from behind a faraway counter.

“Who is this coming in so late? Ah, Danny Smalls! Welcome, welcome!” Said the voice of a man with an accent that reminded Joe of his mother.

“Always a pleasure, Giovanni. I brought a very special guest I wanted you to meet.” Said Danny. “This is Joe Piccoli.”

Years ago, before his mother had abandoned him, Joe had seen a self-portrait of his father once. His mother had kept the fragile canvas rolled up and hidden away, and only unfurled it on rare occasions. Viscerally lifelike, it had depicted a slightly distorted reflection in water, of a man with twinkling dark eyes, a thick moustache and an impish smile cheekily touching a paintbrush to the ripples that he himself had hyperrealistically painted, as if to silently boast of his own talent.

Those same twinkling dark eyes smiled down at him now, mirrored in a strange giant that Joe had never met before.

“Joe Piccolli?” The man who Joe could only assume was Giovanni echoed in delight.

“Here to taste the finest Italian cuisine Toronto has to offer. Better than Angelo’s.” Said Danny.

“Much better than Angelo’s.” The giant agreed. “Right this way.”

Joe followed the tremor of the giant’s footsteps as he and Danny were led over to an anchovy tin turned on its side. The interior had been delicately fashioned into a miniature restaurant booth out of what Joe assumed was painted over cardboard. The inside of the can that formed the booth’s singular back wall was adventurously painted with colourful triangles that appeared downright out of place for the establishment.

“I had this booth specialty made. Only the best for Mr. Smalls.” Giovanni said.

“You flatter me, Mr. Cucciara.” Danny replied as he slid into the far seat. “We’ll have your finest ah, grape juice.” He added.

All Joe could say was,

“Am I really allowed in here?”

“If you are a friend of Mr. Smalls? Absolutely.” Giovanni answered, and meandered far across the floorboards to the distant kitchen. “He’s a big star, you know!”

Joe sat down across from Danny in the tin can, bewildered.

“You’d be amazed at what some giants are willing to do for you when you’re the guy from the movies.” Danny said. “They don’t like every tiny, but if they find you respectable they can really surprise you.”

Respectability. That esoteric quality Harry had been trying to squeeze out of Joe like blood from a stone. Joe couldn’t help but feel more than a little resentful of how Danny was being treated as the dancer sat there in his booth like the king of the world. He sighed and tried to distract himself from the unfairness of it all, and as he did so he found himself tracing the triangles along the side of the booth with his finger.

“You like the walls?”

Joe was startled out of his skin as Giovanni spoke again from far above him.

“My daughter painted it. Usually she waits the tables but she’s out tonight.” Giovanni said. “Her friend made the booth for us. You should meet them sometime.”

With gentle precision the giant set a pair of wine glasses down on the table that were so expertly made and so perfectly scaled they only could have been crafted by fellow miniatures. Joe wondered where he got them from, but found himself too nervous to ask.

“What will it be, gentlemen?” The giant asked.

Danny sat back and gestured to Joe.

“You first. Anything you wanna try?”

“I—isn’t there supposed to be a menu or something?” Joe protested.

He had gleaned that much about restaurants from the giants’ newspapers.

“Not when I’m the only tiny customer.” Danny laughed. “I’ve tried everything. Giovanni knows my usual. Ravioli, spaghetti and meatballs, spumoni… that’s the stuff the folks off the street get, but he can do way more than that.”

“You’re overselling me, Mr. Smalls.” Said Giovanni.

“Oh, am I?”

Joe was inclined to agree with Giovanni. There were certain foods unique to tinies after all, and he had his doubts that Giovanni even knew what they were.

“Here’s one you’ve probably never heard of.” Joe declared with his nose in the air. “Polenta. Every borrower my ma’ knew down at The Times ate that stuff. I bet that’s something you giants don’t have.”

Joe realized his mistake when Giovanni laughed so hard the booth shook.

“Of course giants have polenta!” Giovanni cried. “You will not find it here, though. I’m from the south.”

“Where’s the south?” Joe asked reflexively, thinking it some nearby giant colony, before once again adding, “is it in Italy?”

Joe was expecting to be wrong. What he was not expecting was for Giovanni to laugh even harder and declare, “yes! South is in Italy!”

Though he gained nothing but knowledge, Joe felt as though he had won the lottery all the same.

“You are from the north, aren’t you, Mr. Piccoli?” Asked Giovanni.

“I dunno. My ma’s Casa, that’s all I know. Wherever it was, she had to get on a boat to leave it.”

Joe watched as Giovanni nodded with a look of great affection.

“That must have been very hard for your family.”

Giovanni’s words stabbed Joe squarely in the heart. He couldn’t bear to tell this friendly stranger that it had been difficult enough to tear his entire family apart. As if sensing Joe’s pain, Danny looked from Joe to Giovanni and said,

“Say, why don’t you try and whip up some polenta for Joe here? I know it’s not your usual thing, but—why not give it a shot for our special guest? Just once!”

“Well… for you, Mr. Smalls, I will do my best, but you’re paying extra when the settlement money comes in.” Said the chef, disappearing once again into the quiet restaurant.

“Yeah, yeah…” Danny groaned, then leaned in towards Joe over the table. “The Times, huh? As in the New York Times? I lived there a while when I was on Broadway.”

“It was a long time ago. I don’t remember.” Said Joe.

“It’s a beautiful city. Lots of character. I could take you there when this court thing is done and jog your memory.”

“Is it far away?” Joe asked.

“About as far away as you must have traveled to get from there to here.”

Joe’s eyes widened at the thought. No wonder Danny was so untethered in life – he had no reason to be anything but. Then again, the things that kept Joe himself grounded were rapidly fleeing from him. Maybe a trip to this New York Times place would be nice, he thought.

Danny was looking at him expectantly, but before Joe could accept or reject the offer Giovanni emerged from the kitchen again with something pinched between his thumb and forefinger. He handed it down to Danny before disappearing once more, who gingerly poured wine from it – first Joe’s glass, then his own.

Joe was captivated by the mere sight of it. His mother had described wine as sacred once. It was how Joe had learned the meaning of the word. A rare and precious treat for a borrower.

“This is how the garden tinies serve their wine over in Italy.” Danny said. “But if the policeman asks, it’s just fruit juice.”

“Yeah – I know how they serve the wine. My father was Giardino!” Joe exclaimed.

“Well isn’t that something?” Said Danny. “I hear those guys have the best food.”

“The Casa tinies would disagree with you on that.” Joe quipped.

“I’m sure they would.” Danny chuckled as he set the empty shell to the side. “They’re two very different kinds of tinies, after all, but difference is what makes life interesting.”

“Or gets people killed…” Joe mused as he stared into his wine with gloom.

“Still shaken after that interview?” Danny guessed, though Joe shook his head no. The dancer folded his arms over the table and looked over his shoulder for Giovanni before adding, “…that Harry guy’s still got you down, huh?”

When Joe’s gaze met Danny’s, it brought all the sadness inside him into plain view.

“I just don’t know what to do about it…” He trailed off.

Danny gave a smug hmm as though he already had it all figured out. He reached forwards and clasped Joe’s hands in his.

“Listen. This isn’t something you have any control over. Sometimes all you can do is try your best to sort things out with someone in good faith, and if that doesn't work, it’s out of your hands." He said.

Joe let Danny’s hands slip from his as the words stung him like pinpricks. He wanted more than that. An easy, practical solution that would bring his friend back. It felt like the end of the world, as though that little box in Joe's heart, once filled with kindness and praise, had been ransacked and torn out of him.

"Don't you find that depressing?" He said, more to his hands than to Danny.

"No." Danny said. "I have other things in life besides people. Stuff to do. Causes I care about."

"Like what?"

Joe glanced up at Danny, and a look of embarrassment flashed across the former dancer's face.

"Well, when I'm not wasting away in court, I spend my time hunting snatchers." Danny answered.

"You hunt snatchers?" Joe repeated, wearing all his skepticism on his face as he did so.

"Yep. Turns out when you're the guy from the movies, more giants are willing to take you seriously. It's still hard as hell to get the police to actually do anything about it, mind you, but it's not impossible. It's rewarding, too. Sometimes I even bring families back together."

Joe wasn't sure if he believed him. It sounded like the sort of tall tale someone would make up just to make themselves sound impressive on a date, but Joe couldn't help but wish it were true in spite of that.

"Well, keep an eye out for any other Piccoli on your travels, would ya'?" He said.

"Of course." Danny replied.

Out of the kitchen came Giovanni, this time with miniature dishes and cutlery. When the chef set the dishes down in front of them Joe was astounded at how much care he had put into each of them. The polenta looked convincingly borrower-made. Danny, meanwhile, had ordered what appeared to be a single, hair-thin spaghetti noodle piled onto a plate, topped with ingredients that were nothing like what Joe’s mama used to make.

“Giovanni can’t break this thing up for some reason.” Danny said of the obscenely long noodle. “I’m not allowed to either. He’ll squash me if I even think about it.”

“I would too.” Joe said.

Joe took a bite of the giant-made borrower-food that he found surprisingly passable and silently reflected on what a strange world he lived in. Some things truly transcended size.

-

Joe braced himself for the storm of feet as the streetcar headed to Sunnyside rolled in. As its glaring lights grew bigger and bigger and burned their way into his retinas he instinctively lowered his center of gravity and prepared himself to run. The shoes started moving as soon as the car stopped in front of them and Joe was just about to dash on board when Danny caught him by the arm.

"Hey, none of that. We're riding first class tonight." Said Danny.

Joe wanted to pull away as the group of passengers piled in. The doors he knew would close any moment; to wait around seemed absolutely bonkers to him, yet Danny simply held his grip firm and waited until the last pair of shoes disappeared up the steps. Then, he let out a piercing whistle.

The doors, instead of closing, stayed open for a second. Joe could hear the sound of shuffling inside as a gruff voice called out,

"Is that you, Smalls?"

"Yup, it's me." Said Danny to the streetcar giant. "Brought a friend along with me, too."

"Okay, just gimme a sec." The giant at the front grumbled.

Danny's hand crept up to Joe's shoulder, and Joe couldn't help but lean into him as the strange giant's colossal figure filled the doorway above them like a monstrous shadow. The fear Joe felt at the sight was force of habit, and old habits died hard.

"How's the wife doing? Ya' find that hat she was looking for?" Danny said. He let go of Joe and strolled into the crouching giant's palms as though it were nothing.

"Something like that." The giant grunted.

Danny pulled Joe up into the giant's hand, and Joe sat there rigidly. How strange it was that the streetcar giant, whom he had spent years living in fear of, was suddenly helping him!

For Danny it was just business as usual.

“Greg, this is Joe. You see him around, give him a hand, would ya’?”

“Oh boy, here we go. This gonna become a regular thing? Bum free rides for all your friends?” Said Greg the streetcar giant.

“Something like that.” Danny parroted.

Gently the driver set them down on the panel to his left beside a hand crank that did God knows what. Every single one of the esoteric controls was a mystery to Joe, and as the giant turned the crank and made the car lurch forward through some form of unseen telepathy or another, he was mesmerized by the view he had of all the dials and buttons. He kept scanning the control box in fascination as Danny sat down and rubbed his sore leg as though it were just another Saturday.

"You get around like this all the time!?" Shouted Joe over the ringing of the bell.

"Why wouldn't I?" Danny shouted back. "You can too if you got the right driver. Just gotta ask nicely!"

Ask nicely? Ask nicely!? Joe could have been traveling in style this whole time, and all he had to do was ask nicely!?

"What happens if I get the wrong driver?" Joe responded.

"He'll scowl at you and drive off, that’s all! Or throw something at you, worst case scenario. They got better things to do than to come out and stomp you to death."

The sun may as well have crashed into the Earth. Birds may as well have dropped dead from the heavens. Of course there were good giants in the world, that much Joe knew, but the idea that asking a strange giant for something could lead to anything other than certain death blew his mind. Then again, Joe had met plenty of kind giants, hadn't he? He had met Susie Wilkins and Mrs. Tucker and Billy Hill and, of course, Harry Avery. That was the problem, Joe began to reason. It wasn't the Davidsons or the Aunt Emilies or the Richard Averies of the world that stood to hurt him the most in life, it was the people dearest and closest to him.

He wondered where that left him and Harry.

-

“Somewhere around this area…” Danny gestured with his cane around the Lake Ontario beach. “…a sell-out is very likely in operation.”

“What’s a sell-out?” Asked Joe.

“A business owner in cahoots with snatchers. The sell-out turns a blind eye to anyone who gets snatched up. Usually it’s a real popular venue, like a bar or a marketplace. The kind of place where losing one or two patrons a month doesn’t cut into the bottom line.” Danny explained. “In exchange, sweet reward is theirs for the taking. Food, trinkets, alcohol, you name it, all in huge qualities.”

“Are they… y’know…” Joe stopped and gestured to his ear, much to Danny’s obvious disappointment.

“No marked man is able to run a business, Joe. Come on. Use your head!”

“…right. I’m sorry.”

Joe trotted forth and then matched Danny’s easy pace.

“It’s just… besides Lorraine, I’ve only ever seen guys like you working with the snatchers.” He explained.

“Huh, you know Lorraine?” Danny lit up, not even bothering to dignify Joe’s previous remark with a response. “Billy too, I’m guessing?”

“Uh-huh. Wait, you know them too?”

“I can do you one better.” Danny said. “I used to work with Lorraine. We were in showbiz together.” He lit up a cigarette and spoke through it as Joe struggled to keep himself from laughing. It was hard to imagine someone as abrasive as Lorraine entertaining anyone.

“She was in showbiz?”

“Oh yeah. Girl had a golden voice and a god-awful manager.” Said Danny through a plume of cigarette smoke. “Want one?”

“I don’t smoke.” Joe said.

“Ah, right… You will someday if you're unlucky.” Danny muttered as he stopped just outside the unthinkably large building. “And when you do, ya’ won’t heed this advice: don’t.”

Joe wrinkled his nose, downright insulted by how presumptuous Danny was being. It was like Harry and his theories on the extinction of carriages. How could Danny predict the future?

Joe followed Danny down the boardwalk. It was that moment when the navy-grey clouds overhead broke, revealing the sliver of a moon in the starlight over Sunnyside. Below this night sky that threatened to swallow them whole loomed a fortress of light that stretched into the heavens above, as though it had fallen to Earth through those broken clouds from some other world. The sign on it read Palais Royale.

So this was Danny’s dance hall. Joe could only hope that they would receive the royal treatment once they got inside. He had the sudden urge to wish on one of the countless stars that shone above it, and to Joe a peaceful night of dancing was well worth wishing for.

“Now there’s two ways to get in here.” Said Danny. “There’s the easy way…” Danny began, pointing to the door, “…or there’s the hard way.” He finished, and gestured to a length of twine that went all the way up the side of the building. “Johnny’s working tonight, so you get one guess which one we’re taking.”

Joe’s spine tingled when Danny limped right over to the giant at the door and tugged his pantleg for good measure.

“s’cuse me! Hey Johnny! Can you get us into the rafters?” He asked the third strange giant in one night.

“The rafters?” Said the pair of glossy black shoes Danny was more-or-less talking to. “You want me to climb all the way up to the rafters?”

“Have I not suffered enough in life? C'mon, look at me! I'm like Tiny Tim! The tiniest Tim, if you will!” Danny said, making a show of hobbling about on his hairpin.

Joe was confused. He knew a tiny Tim who was arguably tinier than Danny was. The dancer kept up his routine all the same.

"God bless us every one!" Danny announced in his best falsetto, and that got a laugh out of Johnny.

"You're lucky you're a funny guy, Mr. Smalls." The giant said.

Ashes fell to the ground as Johnny snuffed out his cigarette. Two blocky hands then materialized before them, and Joe waited for the part where he climbed onto them and they set him down onto something. Instead, every muscle in Joe’s body tensed up when the doorman, whose face Joe couldn't even catch sight of, picked him up from the ground and held him in his thumb and forefinger. Resisting the urge to struggle and fight, Joe's eyes squeezed shut and he gritted his teeth as he was momentarily suspended in mid air, longing for the days of Harry and his may-I's.

Soon he was unceremoniously shoved into the stuffiness of the giant's front pocket along with Danny as the giant lumbered off to wherever the rafters were supposed to be. In a few minutes he was pinched again and they were inside the building. He could see that Johnny, whose face he could still barely make out in all the dizzying motion, had climbed a maintenance ladder up to the ceiling. The giant held him out over a beam that ran along it and he clambered onto it and clung to it for dear life as hundreds of gigantic dancers flapped and flailed around him on the dance floor below.

“You’d be amazed how many borrowers have killed themselves getting in here.” Danny shouted over the sound of the band.

Joe knew very little of the foreign gigantic practice known as jazz dancing, and what he presently saw of it looked utterly ridiculous.

“Thanks, Johnny!” Danny called down to the doorman as he joined Joe on the beam. “You ever want me to do more impressions for ya', let me know! You can book me for parties!”

Joe crawled along the beam, still shaken from Johnny's rough handling, and tried to count the immeasurable number of giants that were in the room with him as he waited for one-legged Danny to recover. It was more giants than in the streetcar, easily. About as much as the circus he could only surmise. Each one of them was spasming about in their own, unique way.

Joe simply had to ask,

“What are they doing?”

Danny looked from Joe to the dancers down below.

“That’s the Charleston.” Said Danny.

“I thought it was dancing.” Joe replied.

“It is! That’s the name of the dance.”

“The dances have names!?”

Joe crawled to his feet and followed Danny down the rafter.

“We just have to hop down onto this chandelier and we’ll be all set.” Danny said.

The chandelier that hung beneath them was comprised of one central disk, with six other plates on the circumference. Every other plate held a faux candle with an electric lightbulb sticking out of it where a flame would be. The rest of the plates were empty, Joe noted, and this was where groups of well-dressed miniatures held their own dance party up above. The jeweled chains that hung from the chandelier added an air of glitz to the whole affair.

“Easier said than done with my leg. And with uh…”

“With what?” Joe said.

He could see that Danny looked downright green.

“I know it sounds crazy, but don’t like being around a lot of people. Or heights. It’s why I chose the law office over Marigold Acres.”

“Marigold Acres? You mean Tiny Town?” Asked Joe.

For a split second Danny appeared as though he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

“...no, I don’t. I’m too busy purging that den of snakes from the inside out to live in it. Those poor lab tinies don’t know what’s coming to ‘em.”

Joe blinked.

“What is coming to 'em?” He asked.

“It’s a research experiment.” Danny stated as he sat down on the edge of the rafter and prepared to jump. “Waddaya think’s gonna happen to the residents when it’s served its purpose and run out of funding? You think the giants running it are gonna let ‘em go? No, Marigold Acres is nothing like Tiny Town, but that’s the most I can tell you about it.”

Before Joe could pry any further, Danny slid off of the rafter.

“DROPPING IN!” Danny announced, and hopped from the beam onto one of two empty plates, landing with a predictable ow. The chandelier shook when he landed, much to the irritation of the other dancers. Joe dropped shortly after him, and helped him back onto his feet. Back and forth the chandelier swayed, casting shadows across a section of the dance hall, and Joe quickly forgot what they had been talking about in all the excitement.

“Whew.” Danny breathed as he brushed his suit off, then brushed Joe’s for good measure.

Danny still looked a little clammy from all the people, but nonetheless he limped over to the edge of the plate to observe the sights below. He pointed into the crowd, and Joe followed his finger when he reached the edge of the plate.

“They’re doing the fox trot now. That one’s so easy you might as well be walking!” He said.

Joe watched as the giants twirled around the room in pairs. Something about the sight reminded him of butterflies in spring, and suddenly a nervousness overtook Joe.

“I could teach you if you want.” Danny offered. “Take a look at what they’re doing first – watch the steps. That couple over there aren't bad dancers. See the girl in the green dress?”

Joe saw the girl in the green dress all right, and as the couple turned in his direction, he saw who was dancing with her. It was a tall, farmerly man in a brown suit with eyes the colour of brandy.

No. Harry wouldn’t do that. He might tear up the floorboards, but he wouldn’t do that, would he?

Danny noticed it too. His voice faltered when he asked,

“Wait a minute… is that who I think it is?”

A smile spread across Joe’s face as he watched Harry dance along with a woman he had never seen before, but already decided he couldn’t stand. An angry, spiteful smile. He watched, sick with envy, at how fluidly they moved along the dance floor. How Joe wished he could dance! How he wished he had enough toes to dance with. If only he could move like that girl, elegant as the figure in a music box; maybe then Harry would care for him.

As the two giants fox trotted away below, Joe slouched over the curved rim of the plate and wondered what it was that was so deeply wrong with him. Why it was that he had gone twenty-five years of his life without a single true friend in the world. He had thought his family those friends before his family had abandoned him. He had thought O’Grady that friend, before O’Grady began to hate everything he was. He had thought Harry that friend, yet here the giant was, dancing away with some flapper girl without a care in the world for Joe’s feelings.

Perhaps, he reasoned, perhaps Danny could be that friend. He knew Danny only liked him for his face, but he needed something to cling to in this lonely world like a lifejacket in a stormy sea. He would sink otherwise, into a darkness that no one could retrieve him from. When the movie star’s square mitt fell on his shoulder he leaned into the touch, turned his head, smiled up at him – and did his best to ignore the deep existential ache in the background.

“You all right?” Danny asked him.

“I’ll manage. He’s just… doing what people do best, isn’t he?” Was Joe’s roundabout way of saying no.

Danny’s hand slid from Joe’s shoulder down to his waist and pulled him in. The dancer gave a disapproving sigh, and he looked at Joe with an all-too-familiar expression, one that fell between pity and concern. Joe barely realized it at first, but soon he was fox trotting along with Danny. It really was as easy as walking.

“Funny thing is, he was lookin’ real upset at me when I was chatting you up at the law office. Seemed like he was awfully fond of you. Guess it just goes to show...”

Joe’s cheeks burned. He struggled to take his eyes off of Harry’s brown suit and the interloper he was dancing with any time they faced the edge of the plate.

“To show what?” He said through the pain and locked his gaze onto Danny instead.

“That the giants don’t care about us the way we need to be cared about.” Danny explained. “They screw up. I mean – everybody does at some point. That’s what makes us human. But they always manage to do it in the worst possible way ‘cause they don’t understand how life is for us...”

As Danny trailed off, Joe saw that the dancer’s eyes were glistening in the light. He tilted his head and leaned in as Danny continued.

“Look, I don’t want you to think I’m some freak for saying this, but I kinda get what you’re going through.” He said, and grew stiff in Joe’s arms as he spoke.

Joe narrowed his eyes at him. The poor man was growing redder with embarrassment by the second- and there was that word again, the one Joe so entirely loathed.

“Waddaya think I’m going through?” Joe asked him.

Danny looked as though he had inhaled an entire pack of cigarettes all at once as he choked out the words that came next.

“I have a confession to make. I’ve never told anyone this before, but… I fell in love with a giant once.” He stammered.

The words hit like a punch Joe had been expecting. He knew Danny was like him, of course. He had sensed it in him from the moment they had met, though he didn’t know how. It only made sense that Danny Smalls had fallen in love with a giant; he was in a gilded cage for crying out loud! What other force in this world could be strong enough to put someone there?

“…how does that make you a freak?” Joe inquired, surprising himself with his own composure.

Danny, still red-faced and flighty, stiffened further at the question.

“Well, you know what they say, about guys like me. That we lack scruples. Chase down the giant women and look up their skirts and all that crap.” He said.

“What!?” Joe gasped. His knees nearly buckled under him in shock. Even throughout the worst of Tim’s rants, he had never heard something so ridiculous.

“It’s not important.” Danny insisted. “I’m not even saying that’s what you are, and I hope I didn’t offend. I-I just know what it’s like to lose a friend is all.”

“No, I… I understand, Mr. Smalls. I do.” Joe assured him. “It’s just that… having an attraction doesn’t make you a freak. It’s how you choose to treat people that matters.”

Though Joe was saying it to himself as much as he was saying it to Danny, a look of relief and wonder crept through the shame in Danny’s face, as though such a thought had never occurred to him before. Then his face fell again.

“Listen, I know I invited you out here to have a good time, and I was considering going through with it, but…”

Danny rubbed his neck and looked over in Harry’s direction.

“I have too much respect for you after hearing everything you’re going through to give you false expectations. If we get together, you won’t have all of me. That giant I fell for owns my heart and she’ll be spinning around in my head like a ballerina all the while we’re together.” The expression of disappointment on Joe’s face must have been apparent, because Danny quickly added, “It has nothing to do with you. I didn’t ask for it. It’s just something I gotta live with. Some guys got clothes as a reward for their dancing, or sleep, or shinies, but me… I got Jane.”

Joe wanted so badly to be angry at Danny for stringing him along and wasting his time, but he found that he couldn’t be. Whether Joe liked to admit it or not, he was in the same damn boat. Harry owned his heart the same way Jane owned Danny’s.  

If life worked the way any of his romance books did, Joe thought, this would be the critical moment. This would be the part where Harry clambered up to the rafters, apologized profusely for hurting him, professed his undying love, proposed to marry him… The longer he watched the shadows of the dancers pass over the ceiling, the clearer it became that life didn’t work like a romance novel. People failed each other, sometimes blatantly, sometimes unknowingly, and there was nothing any single person could do to change it. No amount of wishing or waiting or hoping would magically make Harry redeem himself, so why did Joe keep waiting?

What he could do was talk about it. He could talk about Harry the way he really wanted to talk about him. Tell Danny his darkest secret, explain to him that he was so sure he might be in love. With neither friends nor family left in the world, the pain he shared with Danny was the last thing Joe had to hold onto.

“Hey, for what it’s worth, I-” 

A chorus of laughter rang out from the far end of the chandelier and cut Joe off. The plate swayed under the weight of a gaggle of tinies who were dropping in from the rafter on the other side. Each of them looked a little frazzled, as if they had taken the hard way to get there, though they were still impeccably dressed for the occasion. These weren’t just any tinies, of course: with their felt hats and finely tailored clothes, Joe recognized them immediately, and Danny did too.

“Tiny Town tinies.” Danny growled.

Joe’s eyes crept from their distorted reflections in the frosted glass to Danny’s clipped left ear.

They both stopped dancing.

“We should get outta here.” Joe said, but Danny only tore away from him. “Danny? Danny!” 

It was too late. Danny was already creeping along the arm of the chandelier in their general direction, looking to eavesdrop no doubt. All Joe could think to do was to beat him there and hopefully provide the townies with a distraction from the marked man in their midst. He leapt from one plate to the next, then down a different arm to the center plate, easily outpacing Danny. He then crossed the center plate to the arm that held the one the townies were on.

To his immense disgust, when he got there he locked eyes with someone he had hoped he would never see again.

“Well well, you’re late for the AGM.” Said Mr. Dawson as he looked Joe up and down from his gilded spectacles.

“I am? Wait… what’s an AGM, exactly?”

Dawson slowly rolled his eyes. This interaction already didn’t bode well for Joe.

“The Annual General Meeting. You’re a ward boss, I presume, or assisting one?”

Joe’s eyes crept about the chandelier as he tried to think of what to say next.

“Well, I-I’m Joe Piccoli, sir. We met back at the office a few months ago, remember?”

Dawson rubbed his temples impatiently. Clearly he didn’t remember, and Joe couldn’t tell whether he should be insulted or relieved at such a fact. His eyes fell on Danny, who was crouched behind a socket that held one of the electric bulbs in the center of a neighbouring plate. Just as he had done back at the law office, Danny peered out and began to twirl his fingers and coach Joe along.

“I mean uh – I’m with the Italian ward, sir.” Said Joe, hoping it was the right thing to say.

“Yes, yes. Have a seat at the table why don’t you?” Dawson dryly replied.

Just like that, as if by magic, the man in the crisp, white suit pointed Joe towards a seat at a makeshift table among whom he could only guess were Tiny Town’s social elite. His fear of being found out bid him to sit down, utterly bewildered, only to remember when he looked down at the sleeves of his fine blue-grey suit that he was indistinguishable from a Tiny Town tiny himself. He scanned the faces around the table and recognized exactly two: sitting next to him on his left-hand side was the man who had thrown the boot at the Irish gangsters when Joe had broken into Tiny Town. Sitting next to him on his right-hand side was Tim O’Grady. Each man was glaring daggers into the other with such intensity that neither seemed to notice Joe was there - for now.

Joe cast his eyes down and tried to will himself invisible. O’Grady hadn’t noticed him yet, but he knew the second he did, he would have yet another problem on his hands. He was forced to glance upwards again when Dawson’s palms hit the far end of the table with a firm thunk. The lightbulb shining from the plate across from them cast sinister shadows across his face as he addressed the table.

“Gentlemen… I understand that we all have our differences, and we all have our place in the natural order of things; however, I must momentarily ask each of you to set your misgivings aside to address a more pressing issue in our community.” Dawson began.

Tim raised his hand.

“More pressing than who makes the most scraps?” He asked.

“Yes, Mr. O’Grady.” Dawson droned. “More pressing than who makes the most scraps.”

A flurry of whispers erupted from the ward bosses at the table. The shadows danced across Dawson’s face the way they would if they had been cast by a fire. To his horror, Joe realized it was Danny causing the shadows to warp as he crept in front of the lightbulb and ventured closer to Tiny Town’s plate. It was only a matter of time before some brute at the table took notice, and Joe was breaking into a cold sweat at the thought.

So Danny was one of those dime-store book cover detectives after all. That bastard! Joe gritted his teeth as he emotionally prepared himself for the moment where Danny got them both killed.

“We have reason to believe that a rogue pet tiny has been digging his way into our stronghold. Kidnapping our women and children in the night. Spreading… dangerous ideas.”

Joe was momentarily distracted by wondering how ideas could be dangerous when he heard a voice whispering in his ear.

“Psst! Joe! Hey, Joe! Congrats on getting in!”

It was only inevitable that O’Grady had clocked him. Now Joe really had to be on his best behaviour if he wanted to make it out alive and unmarked! Dawson shot Tim an icy glare as the Irishman bumped Joe’s shoulder, then cleared his throat, and continued with his speech.

“We have a name and a general description.” Said Dawson.

Joe’s stomach twisted into knots as Dawson leafed through a stack of papers and handed them out to the guests. When Joe received his copy, he saw that it was a wanted poster with a crude rendition of Danny on it.

The real Danny Smalls, meanwhile, stood up and crept along the bar that connected the central plate with Tiny Town’s, looking like a cat about to pounce.

“Say, while we’re here, did you get that shiny thing for Sophie? August is coming up fast.” O’Grady murmured.

“I did, actually.” The words slipped out of Joe’s mouth as they always did, but that barely mattered next to keeping Tim distracted.

He would find a shiny thing later.

“I want you to capture him and bring him to me alive.” Dawson announced. “He is to be burned at the stake. The last thing we need is some freak corrupting our good people so we ought to make an example of him.”

Joe’s hands shook and then dug into his knees as a tall, square figure rose up behind Dawson.

Tim raised his hand again.

“Aye, sir, that’s all well and good.” He said. “But what do we need these posters for? He’s right behind you.”

Next part coming soon!

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Clara and Svarog but make it the iron giant

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Then we have this gem, most of you have probably already stumbled upon this. But this scene is so G/T fic.

Movie: Borrowers (2011)

Where to watch: YouTube

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Sue me, here’s more of our favorite show 😋🫶

Show: Minami Kun no Koibito (my little lover)

Where to watch: YouTube

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Shot in the Dark Bonus Scene: tumblr exclusive - “First Kiss”

Spoilers for 2024 Shot in the Dark below

This takes places sometime shortly after the end of book 1. Sylvia’s POV. Very rough, but still fun and Anne and I think about this bonus scene all the time! Their first “REAL” kiss— we hope you enjoy!

TW: none, very fluffy!

@kendsleyauthor

••••

“You’re sure you’re okay?” I asked.

My heart was still racing from the spectral plane. We’d made it—it was safe and it was incredible. I still felt the ghost of Jon’s strong arms wrapped around me as I looked at him across the bed, wiping away the last of the blood trickling from his nose.

“Doesn’t even hurt,” he assured me, his tone even and pleasant—so I knew he was telling the truth. “I’ll bet it’s just a consequence of visiting as a human.”

He tossed the tissue aside and rolled to face me, his eyes bright in the lamplight. I chewed my lip—nerves and excitement and what the fuck am I doing with a hunter all clamoring inside me.

The straps of my bralette slipped down my shoulders as I sat up, legs folded on pillow. I moved closer to him, away from the spectral rune of dirt we’d formed on the bedding.

“I’ll admit, I’m getting so used to seeing you covered in blood, it might be strange to see you without it,” I said. I wrinkled my nose, smirking. “I’m worried I’m into that now. Would that be terrible?”

Jon snickered softly. “I’ve heard far worse.”

Stars, he was handsome. Something tender in his eyes shifted as he looked down at me, intensifying. My throat tightened as resolve took hold of his expression, and he reached for me. I wondered if Jon would ever know what it was like to have a hand the size of a wall racing toward you. Surely not. But he was more delicate day by day, and his touch was feather light as he cupped my side, brushing up my arm with him thumb. Catching my cheek, caressing the traitorous swirls on my face.

I had to look so fragile and pathetic to him here. It was hard not to glance back at the spectral rune—surely, he would want the same. He’d want to touch me properly. But his gaze, the growing tension in the air between us, made me bite my worries back.

What is he thinking?

Slowly, haltingly, Jon rolled toward me. He leaned down—my heart racing at the nearness because here, unlike the spectral plane, I could feel his heat and the smell of him and it drove me wild—close and closer until he was all I could see. My entire world.

I shut my eyes, gripping the side of his hand. Jon’s lips brushed against the side of my face, warm and featherlight pressure. He pulled away in my shocked silence to read my expression.

“Was that—“ he swallowed, frowning. “Too weird?”

I opened my mouth, but words failed me. All I could think was how small I had felt against him—and equally treasured. The taste of his skin was fresh on my tongue.

A sigh cut above—Jon dragged a hand over his face, color quickly flooding his sun-kissed skin. “Fuck. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

He trailed off, and I showed him mercy—smiling, lounging back with my head tipped back lazily. I gazed up at him like he was something to be devoured.

A heavy pause drew out between us as he watched me. Jon’s expression melted into surprise—recognizing the gesture for what it was: an open invitation. A curious, dark grin took hold. In the cracking silence of the motel room, with only our shared breathing breaking the emptiness, he leaned down with more certainty this time. He kissed my lips—or rather my face—so gently, I wanted to vanish into him.

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I’m finished :DDD

When giant accidentally shifts in their sleep an tiny gets scooped up :)

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More Danny brainrot I'm going insane Danny Smalls belongs to @fireflywritesgt, from their story "The Art of Love and War"

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Suzan Pitt working on the miniature theater set, with an audience of clay figures, from her animated film Asparagus, 1979