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a-chaotically-small-lunta · 9 months ago

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Okay hear me out. Imagine a story where a scientist is leading a tour of kids through his lab, showing off all the inventions that will hopefully one day help humanity! In this tour is his son, who is very excited to be with his dad at his job, while also technically going to school? Win Win!! His dad has been a bit overprotective of him, but he sort of enjoys the attention. Although he isn’t too keen on his classmates who bully (perhaps one of the bullies is his brother or something) him for it, still poking and teasing him during the tour.

After awhile the dad shows off a portal machine which can open a portal to a whole new world, or at least that’s what they think it leads to anyway. The lab hasn’t fully tested it and is making a robot to send in first. The kids all ask if they can see it and the science team agrees as long as no one goes over the rails towards the portal, cause it seems to have a suction. (You can see where this is going I bet) The science team flips on the machine and the portal lights up, and while everyone is distracted the bully decides to have some fun, whispering into the Scientist kid’s ear something like “Maybe you’ll see your mom over there” or “Perhaps I should just take out trash like you. You’re just wasting dad’s time anyway” before the kid can really process what happens he is pushed over the rail into the portal, disappearing. The machine shuts off with a clunk and the dad is pissed. He is shouting at the bully about how stupid that was and how they have no idea if it’s even life sustainable on the other side! A guard nearby says that the kid is in real serious trouble for so many reasons, only for the dad to chime in that the bully better hope his kid is alive cause if he isn’t, he’ll get a murder charge. The bully explains he didn’t mean to only for most of the class saying that the bully always does this and one student even repeats what he said before he pushed the kid in. They decide to end the tour early and send everyone home, while the bully is escorted out by the guards and won’t be going home soon.

The science team asks what they’re gonna do and the dad says they’re gonna make something. Perhaps a suit or vehicle so that he can go into the portal and find his son. The team nods and quickly gets to work, they know it’ll take more than a few weeks, but maybe if they are lucky the kid will be okay, and maybe they can get it done faster.

Meanwhile, the kid flies through the portal and lands on a soft ground. Panicking he sits up and looks around, only to notice he’s on a huge bed. The portal sent him to a world that was way bigger than his own. Fear strikes him as he realizes where there is a big bed, there’s a big person. He’s right when he looks over across the room and sees a huge person sitting at a desk mumbling to themself. He’s frozen in fear and can’t move, even when the person swings around from their chair and walks over to their bed only to pause and stare at him.

The giant just stared at him, confused as to why there is a tiny child in their bed. They swear they didn’t put them there and are about to say something when the kid just burst out crying and the giant panicked. They quickly kneel by their bed and try to hush the child and tell them that it’s okay. The child keeps sobbing and soft hiccups can be heard, but eventually the kid quiets down a bit. The giant carefully asks how the kid got there, and the boy answers between sobs. The giant listens and the boy eventually bursts into tears again, crying out that they want their dad. The giant gently scoops them up, and holds them close saying “hey, hey, it’s going to be alright. You said your dad was a scientist…sooo he must have seen you get pushed in. I bet he’s trying to get back to you, he just has to figure out how to.” The kid sniffles and asks if the giant really believes that and they nod. They then reassure the kid that they won’t hurt them and that they’ll watch and care for them, until their dad comes to save them. The boy nods and the giant pauses and asks if he likes movies. The boy says yes and that he likes action like movies. The giant then decides that maybe they could watch a movie, to help the boy calm down, they’ll even let the kid choose the movie. He gets a little excited over this and the two of them go and do exactly that. Through this we learn that the worlds are almost identical, but some things are changed like Superman is Aceman, and Ice Cream is Frost Gel. All still the same thing, just named differently, which both the giant and boy find amusing.

The boy stays with the giant for little over a week, getting used to the large surroundings and the movements of the giant. The giant provides a small house to the boy, made of a box and Legos, which the boy had fun playing with and designing that part of the little home. In the other world the dad and his team finally finished the suit. It was built to survive space, acid, lava, and other possibilities. It had a backpack built into the back that held food rations, weapons, tools, and other things for survival. There was also the case, which contained all the parts for a small return portal back home. Which had been tested multiple times….just not cross dimensionally. The suit also had a built in camera that would send live video feed back to the team while the dad, who wanted to be the one who went through, was over there looking for his son. He’d also do some science stuff, like take samples and explore a bit.

The day finally arrives and the dad walks through the portal. He finds himself behind a large plush wall, and he starts to walk around it when he hears booming voices. Meanwhile the giant is laying in bed scrolling through their phone. The kid is sleeping in their little house for a quick nap. Then out of the corner of their eye they see something move out from behind their pillow. The dad looks up and catches the giant’s eye glancing at him. He freezes, and then grabs a weapon from the bag. This causes the giant to freak out and quickly flop out of their bed and onto the floor. The dad runs over and, using the mic in his suit, shouts “WHERE IS HE?!?!?” The giant, confused as hell, asks that the “crazy living action figure dude” please put down the weapon, while also asking what he means. The dad just shouts “IF YOU DID ANYTHING TO HIM I SWEAR I’LL..” the threat falls from his lips as the giant rises above him and cautiously walks over to the little house. They open the top and reach in, carefully waking the boy up and whispering that they have a surprise. The dad, still in a fighting stance, watches as the giant approaches with something in their hands. He’s about to fight, when the giant opens their hands and reveals his son, causing him to freeze. The boy pauses, not recognizing him cause of the suit, but once the dad rips the helmet off, the kid jumps off the giants hand and rushes to embrace his dad.

Both the kid and the dad just tightly hold onto each other as the giant just smiles softly, watching them. They then comment how much of a strong and loving dad the kid has and how the dad has such a brave and smart son. They both look up at the giant, who gives them a sweet smile. The dad explains they can go back home and the son is excited to tell his dad everything he learned about the place. The giant asks if there is anything they can do to help, which the dad asks if there is a safe place to setup a portal device somewhere that isn’t, well, a bed. The giant nods, and offers their hand to the pair. The son quickly hops on and the dad, carefully steps on after a bit of encouragement from his son. The giant takes them to their desk and says they can set it up in the free space near the wall.

After some time the portal is up and running and the dad has some samples, including a hair from the giant, and the small pair is ready to go home. The giant remarks that they’ll probably be seeing more of the tiny people, but says that they are welcome to visit. The boy hugs the giants hand and thanks them for taking care of them. The dad also thanks them for watching over his son, and says that he’s glad that the giant was the one to find his son. They take their leave and the story comes out in their world about what happens. The bully is still charged for some things, mostly messing with official government science stuff, but everything seems fine in the end. Plus the boy made an amazing friend, and the dad found someone he can trust to watch his son.

Anyway, basically what if a portal led to a giant world similar to our own, but it was discovered because some kids decided to mess with a kid. Resulting in the kid getting lost in that world, having to wait to be found or find a way back themself?

#g/t #gt #gianttiny #giant/tiny #giant tiny #g/t idea #g/t ideas #g/t thoughts #g/t thought #g/t story idea #I think it would be interesting to find a whole new world filled with giants #although if I found a tiny crying child in my bed I’d probably freak out #I’d have to calm them down and try and figure out how they got here and whether or not they were always tiny #it would be 100% worse if they happened to be from the same universe and the portal just shrunk them and sent them somewhere random #especially if you see the missing posters and think ‘wait I have them…how am I gonna explain their size?!?!?’#but if they’re from another world it’s more ‘oh okay. just smaller universe..okay okay…let’s figure out dimension travel then…I guess!!!’#either way I’d comfort them and definitely help or try and help them get back home #I’d just make sure that they were okay and watch over them…go all mama bear mode I guess haha #also sorry this got long and is basically a short story written shorter…a shrunken story hehehe

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opelman · 3 months ago

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Porsche 991 Cup 4,0 by Laurent Quérité Via Flickr: Roscar 360 Endurance Roscar GT Challenge Team 2B Automobiles Circuit Paul Ricard Le Castellet Var France IMG_7461

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omies-odd-writing-spot · 5 months ago

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Warmth: gift 2

<_< >_>

@gullivertravelstowonderland Have a thing, I love your MoD story and just.... GET LOVED ON! Also have a young Vito before the bad happened.

Also a part of the GT july, warmth prompt, just...out of order.

Warmth: Flynn and Vito

It was one of those strange, and rare moments of knowing he was dreaming of a memory. Not too early of one that it was hazy, maybe some odd years old, but he was also realizing it was not fully a ‘bad’ memory. Looking around, Flynn could recognize that he was in one of the better healing chambers of the arena. Not so deep in the pits, he was sitting in a chair with the back removed. It had been to let his back be treated better, and this had been the first day someone used a healer’s wraith gift on him while Flynn was awake.

He wanted that healer to come back, the cool, almost numbing energy felt nice on his exposed back. More so after the time he had spent in hell.

Not the arena, now that he was awake and aware, the fighting arena was almost fun. The fighting part, not so much the treatment up until this point. He shifted in the dream, looking around from where he had been put in the corner. With two half walls it gave the impression of Flynn having his own space to himself for once.

Even if it was an illusion, and a healer could walk over to check on him at anytime, or offer another cup of water. It was nice to have some semblance of space and not have another prisoner pressed up against him. The healers seemed confused at him though, but not in a hostile. Though not weak as he saw a woman about his height bodily lift and drop a fighter in armor onto a bed and strap him down.

Strong woman!

Flynn was actually smart enough to just… sit. And watch. He could stand and stretch now and then, but the chains on his legs kept him in a set area. The one time he did go to a half wall was to get attention and get some water by offering the empty cup and slowly saying the native word for water he had learned.

After that he found if he sat quiet during that day, the healers would bring him water, then some of their tea. Then… food.

Snacks?

It was a roll of soft bread, what seemed like a cross of a cookie and cornbread. Then a fruit. He let them fuss with his back, and got a honey flavored brownie. Let the two younger healers, a girl and boy that could not be even as tall as him, that noticed and watch the accelerated healing… he was allowed to walk unchained to the local equivalent of a bathroom. Even with an armored guard escorting, the silver colored guard was different then some of the others. Oddly quiet and just calmly standing guard for the healers more than seemingly to guard him.

That had been much better then what was in his prison cell before!

At least the corner was dimmer so Flynn could dose when it got boring. He was picking up some of the native words of this world, but not so much to fully understand why he was here (there?) and not being pushed to fight.

Then, an almost impossible thing happened around midday. More strangers had come to talk to the healers in the bigger part of the room but a sound had Flynn looking up to see a small frame peering around the half wall at him. Wide black-gray eyes looking up at him from a child’s face.

Bigger than a human child likely of the same age, the boy looked like he would be around ten, but was just taller like the locals all seemed to be. The boy was in one of those awkward stages of growth, starting to lose the baby fat but the boy's face was round and soft still. Flynn felt something in his chest soften, no matter the annoyances and insults from some of these strange people, kids were just… kids. This little black haired boy looked as confused as he was excited by the wall.

The man gave a soft chuff like sound, something he had heard done lowly to the big wolves.

“Hi?” The boy offered the simple greeting, watching Flynn back in that intense way of kids trying to sort something out in their heads.

Flynn hesitated a moment, before daring to speak in a low voice. Not wanting to draw attention, but also the return greeting was likely still very accented, “Hi.”

“I saw you fight with father! From above, he only spars and trains with the Sentinels now.” The boy chirped, hesitated as if not sure what to do but then in that senseless, fearless way of the young came closer. Dressed in a simple style of clothes, but it seemed pretty good quality to hold up against the chaos kids could get into. Not ‘fancy’ but durable, and had pockets to hold all the boy's random things. “Father liked you, he said you fight with… heart? Not mean though.”

What an odd compliment.

“...thank?” Flynn hesitated, not sure what the rest of the phrase was here. Or what a good chunk of that ramble was, yet grasp just enough to understand the boy saw Flynn's last fight…. The day before?

The boy was clutching a few idems as he looked up at the still taller outlander. The expression of innocence wonder, not judgemental greed or calculation of what to throw him into a fight with next. It had the man relaxing a bit, taking in a partly eaten yellow-green fruit and a little book.

“What that?” Flynn asked slowly, trying to make sure he was speaking the new words right while he motioned to the book and saw the little boy brighten up. The man was surprised and pleased as the boy came over to show him.

Holding up the book to show it was a plain cover, small for Flynn's hands but he picked it up and opened it. Almost expecting to see a story book but instead…

Doodles.

A little sketch book for the boy with a type of pencil in the spine of the book. The book was not grabbed back, so Flynn skimmed the pages. Finding shaky lines of the young learning to draw more things. The boy was drawing what was around him, including plants, animals that Flynn was not sure were real or made up. Something that looked like a dragon with a person on the back with a fuzzy cap? Another page had an egg with purple and blue colors added. There were a few pages of someone far more experienced drawing in the book too. Landscapes, a waterfall, and another, detailed egg in a nest.

Then there were doodles of the child of some of the architecture around the arena building in the later pictures and… some of the fights? It was a rough picture of him, he recognized some parts of an opponent's armor.

“Like?” The boy asked, trying to repress a wiggle and failing at it.

“Nice,” the man smiled, finding the pencil again and pulling it out, pausing to see if it would upset the boy. The kiddo looked far too interested though and bounced in place to see what the strange outlander would draw.

“What is it?” The boy asked, watching as an animal he had never seen formed on the page.

“...rabbit.” Flynn said in English, smiling as the boy tried to copy what he said. It sounded so strange with the kiddo’s own accent. “Close.”

“What are… rab-bi-ets? Are they big like bears?” The boy asked, taking the book back once offered. The looked up at movement and gasped in delight at the small distance Flynn measured between his hands. “Small?”

“Small.” Flynn agreed, “Soft…nice.”

The boy looked back to the new drawing in his little book then froze as a low voice called from the other side of the big room.

“Vito.”

The boy, Vito, had much the same look as a human child. That internal debate if he could get away with not answering, then looked guilty at his own thoughts. It was kinda cute, if not funny to the outlander.

“Yes sir?” Vito turned to look back at a man not much taller then Flynn. Someone with short white hair, one eyes clouded and likely blind, the other almost the same black as Vito's own eyes. Planly dressed like some of the non active Sentinels, though being half blind the older man might be retired despite the fit build.

“Do not bother the fighter,” the father spoke clearly, “Let him heal in peace son.”

Vito turned back, looking worried as he peered up at Flynn… hesitated before he offered his fruit, there was just two small bites taken out from one side. “Sorry! I didn't know you were healing!”

“It… okay,” Flynn spoke slowly, carefully using the native words still. Then hummed in surprise at the odd fruit put in his hands, watching the boy run out of his area and back to the father.

Flynn took a careful bite, looking down surprised at the cool, if not mold flavor. Something…nice.

He remembered the taste of the odd fruit, it was one of the first real nice, natural flavors…

Something he wanted more of.

A clatter of sound jarred the altered man out of his sleep. The following sound of someone jumping up from their spot against his shoulder. Reflexes kicked in for Flynn those few seconds before his companion. Reaching up and wrapping his hand around the injured Sentinel in half armor. Fingers curled to hold the smaller man firmly, yet he managed not to press on the wounds.

Both froze into the stillness to match the winter storm outside. The giant scanned around, waiting to see where the demons were flooding from-

A single, hell mutated gargoyle was plastered against one of the few windows. It's tattered, twitching wings were freezing in position as the snow bank rose around the very… ice solid demon freezie. Arm half lifted to catch the smaller Sentinel.

Flynn snorted deeply, glancing to his side at the young Sentinel.

Dark, shiny black eyes stared back with an unimpressed expression that mirrored his far more scary mother. Mirrored, not an exact copy of the look, but enough that the giant grinned. “Can you let me go?”

There was a notable pause as Flynn slowly smiled wide enough to flash teeth.

“What are doing!? Ack!” Vito started to ask and then let a started yelp

The much larger demigod lifted his left arm that was holding his only companion at the moment. Stomach flexing as he sat up, eyed the still frozen demon. Making sure there was no glow of energy in it. Looking back down, Flynn grinned one more at the now upsidedown Vito. Shifting into a better position he lifted his other hand to help support the now limp young man. Vito letting the giant turn him carefully to squint at his left side where his broken under suit was mostly on but had a good section cut off for the wound to be treated earlier.

“Must you?” Vito demanded, tolerating being moved and inspect only because of the trust he had.

“Mmhm..” Flynn hummed, then carefully helped Vito right side up, watching as the young Sentinel still leaned back on his right hand for support. The jolt of adrenaline must have drained out, Vito’s carefully selected position to get the best heat was now gone. His smaller form was remembering that there was a winter storm still and started to twitch as he fought the shivers.

Flynn gave a low rumbling sound of worry.

“I'm…. I'm fine.” Vito shivered a bit more. “Gods I was kinda warm th…there.”

He felt the giant shift, not resisting being lifted up into the right hand. Watching as Flynn shifted to reach behind to grab and pull the bear-like pelt. Having been laying on it, it was also a mix of bed and warmth, like Flynn’s shoulder had been. Vito could only watch in curiosity as he was moved as the giant sat up. The young man basically tucked under the heavy fur and used the massive left arm to wedge against the living warmth. Vito made a relieved sound as the body heat and insulating fur was thawing him out. Not resisting his giant commander as Flynn inspected the building they were stuck in. Then found a slightly better spot to sit and learn back into a reclining seat.

The giantanic man peered down, checking on Vito and smiled a bit at finding him dozing off again. He tucked the fur cloak around his smaller friend.

Flynn blinked, pulled the rest of the cloak around and checked the inside. For the first time realizing he did not see more than one seam in the middle. What… what animal was big enough to make this? He puzzled over that while settling down and held one of the few completely unafraid persons of his altered self. A low rumble excepted the massive chest, Vito leaning against Flynn like he would settle in a wintherin nest.

They still had at least the rest of the night to doze off while the storm raged before there was anyone able to look for them. Sentinels or Hell’s beasts. Or one angry wintherin rider commander, Vito's mother. She still scared him more than Valen.

Flynn grunted as he realized he had a sudden craving for the odd yellow-green fruit like in the dream-memory.

Well, that was not fair.

#omie's writing #doomguy #doom fanfiction #gt #doom gt #Monster of Divinity story #gift story thing #I really want to write more about Vito now #just....him climbing on the slayer with no fear #that's his big friend #vito would 100% ride on Flynn's back like on a wintherin

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brick-a-doodle-do · 1 year ago

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i know myself so well DVFEWJRS

HERE IT IS!! LAST CHAPTER IN MAIN SERIES! i started this doc on halloween and finished it around fourth of july! good god!

also i forgot to add bht thank you to xyz for help with this chapter !! part of the last scene was completely their idea :D

the egg scene will forever haunt me. i was stuck on that for at least three months.

not quite ready (iii; final)

(i, ii)

words: 4515 (😱😱😱)

cw: vore mention, dehumanization, mentions of depression, descriptions of questioning reality ? idk the word for that :I

—–—

The following morning, Wilbur sits with himself in silence. The apartment was quiet, broken only by the quiet whooshes of cars rushing in the busy streets down below and the occasional hum from the air conditioner.

By the time the bedroom door that had sat undisturbed for hours creaked open with practiced silence, he didn't know how much time had passed.

That feeling was familiar.

He hates to circle back to the very thing he’s so luckily escaped from, but every little thing he did would remind him of it. Wilbur doesn’t know Tommy very well yet, and he can’t say he’s drawn to doing so, but it’s nice to be able to gaze at the chocolate bag without looking at the walls he only saw as one great big endless void.

He can hear Tommy’s weight shift onto the floorboards softly as he makes his way through the apartment. Wilbur tossed to his side, eyes staring at the cloth of the couch. Familiarity washes over him and drowns him. He had spent too long staring at a dark, blank slate. Why does his freedom entail the very same thing?

Wilbur frowns, shifting back up to the ceiling, where Tommy just barely looms over the edge of the couch. A shiver runs through his body at the startle, but ultimately it’s nice to see him, because it was grounding to see another living and breathing something.

“Oh, fuck, sorry—” Tommy murmurs, his hands resting on the back of the couch and pushing the cushion down just slightly to see the tiny better. Wilbur shrugs, looking deeply into the eyes that blink without a rhythm. Tommy is alive.

Wilbur is too.

Tommy’s chest rises and falls and his hair shifts as his head moves just barely so their eye-contact could disperse. Wilbur’s chest rises and falls too, and he can hear his heartbeat that thumps softly against his ears as they sit in utter silence.

“Well, um, I’m gonna go, yeah? You alright here?”

He considered it, and he should’ve said he was. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he’d apparently lost control of his response and blurted out an extremely abrupt: “No, please stay with me. I–I can’t sleep and I really can’t have it be quiet any longer.”

“Oh,” Tommy murmurs, “okay. Yeah, I can do that for sure. Do you want me to sit down?” he asks, already making his way over to the tiny.

The borrower nods, trying not to listen to the voice in his head. Tommy obliges and walks around the edge of the couch, a certain slowness to his movements, and sits down just inches away from the pillow he was on.

Wilbur sits up, sinking slightly in the middle of the feathers, but his next-to-nothing weight, for the most part, keeps him still. Tommy keeps his hands in his lap, nails picking softly at his skin. It’s quiet for a moment, but Tommy speaks up with the inevitable question, “Did you sleep last night?”

Wilbur shakes his head, “No, I couldn’t. Did you?”

“A little bit,” Tommy replies, and Wilbur notices how the hem of the human’s shirt has been caught between his fingers. “Hey, um, Wilbur?” Tommy asks. Wilbur looks up. “Are you feeling alright after that whole, uh…thing?”

Wilbur shrugs, the phantom feeling of being in the bag already fading from his memory, but in the same way never uprooting. He swallows. “I can't say I feel the best, but I'm getting better. Thank you for what you've done, I don't know where I'd be right now.”

“Oh, nah man, you didn't deserve to be there in the first place! Just helpin’ a guy out, y’know?” Tommy flashes him a fond smile, and the human’s humor wafts into his face, the sweet scent of underlying pity burning his throat. He laughs dryly, unsure of where to lead the conversation so that the suffering sound of nothing can’t bother him any longer, because so many of his days had been spent with little but the occasional muffled chime from the store’s door or the hushed chatter from city-goers as they pass in and out.

Tommy looks like he wants to say something, his lips parting with every passing second Wilbur sits with the reminisce of the past. He considers pointing the fact out, but instead he lets them sit in the shared silence before the teenager’s inevitable saving grace would show.

Half a minute has passed and they haven't broken eye-contact.

The gesture might’ve scared past-Wilbur, though post-incident-Wilbur has never felt more thrilled at the contact of another being. And when his eyes drift down to the fingers that still fidget with the cloth anxiously, he can't help but imagine how grounding it would feel for fingers to close over him.

He shudders at the thought, however, because it’s an entirely other scenario to be trapped by a human. It’s a conflicting battle that leaves him absentmindedly shifting closer.

Tommy is quiet.

Wilbur is quiet.

A car honks down on the streets below, startling Wilbur.

Tommy, awkwardly, clears his throat. “I’m going back to London in a few weeks, can’t be long now, uhm, do you want to come with me? I don’t want to force you, but you don’t seem like the typa’ fella to just pick life back up, respectfully ‘n all.” Wilbur considers it, and the silence draws taut.

“That’s a bit last-minute, don’t you agree?” he asks.

“Right, like I said you’re not, like, fuckin’ obligated to or whatever. Just thought it might be nice, givin’ you a heads up ‘n all,” Tommy reassures him. It’s not exactly convincing; Wilbur finds himself wondering how much of Tommy is really okay with him staying here.

Wilbur swallows, running his fingers through the flap of his hair. “I don’t know, and don’t expect an answer. Not anytime soon.”

“Right, yeah, don’t decide right now,” Tommy chirps, leaning against the couch and sighing. “Are you hungry? I could fuckin’ eat right now,” he adds.

Wilbur stares right at him.

Tommy sits, oblivious with his leg bouncing as he awaits Wilbur’s response. Eventually, his eyes shifted in realization when the silence had drawn on too long. “Oh, oh fuck—I didn’t mean it like that, I don’t want anything like that—” Tommy rushes, the words coming out a warp. Wilbur shakes his head, the beginning of laughter escaping him, though drying up at the edge of his throat.

“You’re fine, king, you’re all good. Just a bit jumpy after everything, you get it,” he replies simply.

“I actually don’t really get it,” Tommy argues. There’s another beat of silence, Wilbur staring at Tommy’s hands. “Well, uh, seriously then, do you want food?”

Wilbur nods eagerly.

Food, real food sounded extravagant; his teeth had rotten away over all the times he’d filled up on chocolate.

The taste of something savory over the weeks had often been his imagination while he bit into the bud of candy, pretending easily that it was something different, like, a rather pleasant portion of fruit he’d scored while a human was away or something he managed to buy in his short time of freedom.

Tommy nods, shuffling up off of the couch and leaving him in the lonely living room again, back to sitting with his own thoughts, only this time with a newfound light after the human had flicked it on.

Suddenly, Tommy comes back into view as he gently leans over the back of the couch. So close. Like how he had been when he’d peered into the candy bag—

“Wilbur,” Tommy urges. When Wilbur seems to have blinked out of his memory, the human continues. “What do you want? You allergic to anything?”

He blinks. Alurgic?

“Uh….I don’t think I know what that means,” Wilbur admits.

“Oh, uh, I’ll take that as a no. I don’t have it in me to explain,” Tommy says, smiling at him like Wilbur is supposed to know what that means.

When Tommy takes his expression that grows even more confused by the following silence as a response, he tries to shake it off with a swift: “Can I take you over to the kitchen, then? Or do you think you still could fall asleep?”

“I can’t fall asleep,” Wilbur responds quickly.

Tommy nods. “I’m gonna put my hand down on the pillow,” the human announces. He does—though irritatingly slow. He was unsure about humans, and it seemed both of them recognized that, but Wilbur wasn’t glass.

When Tommy had stopped moving and instead kept his eyes glued to the borrower, he moved with his shoulders slicked back to hide the anxiety of being watched so intensely.

Tommy’s skin was rough under his own as he got situated on his palm.

Memories of being held by other (more resentful) humans fought their way through his archives, but he felt oddly soothed for how loud his head was.

Almost immediately after he had settled in the center of Tommy’s hand, gravity shifted and he watched as the world grew further from him. He wasn’t startled (Prime knows he’s been through worse) as his world shifted with each of Tommy’s movements, in fact he was still as at ease as he could be.

The rest of the apartment wasn’t anything special.

Ahead of them was a kitchen, to the right was the front door, and to the left there were two other closed doors. He couldn’t take the house for anything personalized, so he probably hadn’t been here for longer than a few months. Still, it wasn’t the cleanest thing ever, but he couldn’t expect anything different from a kid Tommy’s age.

(He’s seen it first-hand from the walls)

(*)

Tommy’s muscle memory kept him from wandering into the kitchen counter as his eyes kept a strong stare onto Wilbur.

It wasn't anything particularly different than the other times he had talked or even seen a tiny, but even despite how little they've known each other it still felt more personal. Wilbur had been through a lot and Tommy was getting to help him.

And he’s already cracked the ice, he noted as Wilbur barely reacts when he gently tilts him off of his hand and onto the kitchen island.

He turns his back to him to search the fridge.

There was barely anything there, just a cool-lighted wasteland with a few leftovers that he can't remember packaging in the first place.

An egg carton was nestled between two takeout boxes (had he tried organizing?) and it caught his gaze the second look around the fridge.

“Uhh, we have eggs,” Tommy suggests.

There's silence for a moment, then, barely distinguished from behind him, “That sounds fine.”

Wilbur sounded distracted, if somehow that was possible.

“Great, because I don’t actually think I can make anything except that,” Tommy deadpans, chuckling to himself at his own joke. He watches Wilbur crack a smile and a quiet laugh on his way to the stove with the egg carton in hand.

He flicks on the dial against the back of the stove, turning it to a medium heat before opening a cabinet to pull out a bowl.

Tommy follows the routine of whisking the eggs then pouring them in and waiting. For a minute, Tommy’s attention lingers on what’s stood behind him, but he doesn’t voice his curiosity, nor his concern or sociable desires.

He just stands over the stove, watching the eggs, prodding at them with a spatula as they form into something edible. When they’re decidedly done, he sprinkles salt over them and calls it quits. He figures Wilbur won’t be particular about his culinary abilities when his past appetite consisted of chocolate.

The idea makes his head hurt, thinking about how someone so human, even despite their sharp, obvious difference, could be locked away like how Wilbur had been.

Tommy could only imagine how dark it could’ve been—completely isolated from any kind of outside contact and intended to be thrown away, eaten like a piece of candy.

Must have been difficult.

“Pardon?” a small voice from behind him asks, and Tommy tenses. Had he said that out loud?

Tommy blinks, and suddenly his hand is moving on its own and folding the eggs into themselves to finish the dish.

Prime, he was tired as shit.

He moves to turn the stove off and sets the pan aside on another burner, then opens a cabinet and pulls a plate off of the lower shelf, the ceramic noises like nails on a chalkboard to him. The plate clinks as it’s set down, then Tommy retrieves the pan of eggs and stares at them, long and hard. Not his best work.

Discouragement aside, he pulls a fork out of a drawer and spoons on the helping of eggs onto the plate. Good enough for government work, huh? Wilbur won’t care, anyway.

He takes a fork from a nearby drawer, then spins around, (blinking away the throb in his eyes when the lights hit his face), and sets the plate down on the kitchen island, just a few respectable inches from Wilbur, who stood with his hand on his arm, standing noticeably awkward.

(*)

Food. Actual, real food. Albeit made in no time at all and served by a teenager in a New York apartment, but still something that was an honest, feasible replacement from his past diet.

He stares at it. Tommy’s attention turns away from him, and he still stares at the plate of eggs.

As Tommy was still distracted pulling up a chair from the other side of the counter, Wilbur steps forward cautiously and crouches down, peeling a small portion off of the eggs and stuffing it in his mouth. He swears to Prime that if Tommy were not nearly staring directly at him, Wilbur very well might have considered melting.

The eggs were not seasoned and they were not slow-cooked, but they were heaven. Were he a functioning member of society, (And assuming he was still very much mentally troubled after certain events), and Tommy was his waiter, he would give it a five out of five.

Carefully, Wilbur takes another piece off of the egg and gnaws at it, savoring the unadorned flavor with every aspect of his senses. The feeling of rubber, (Almost), which clashes with his usual expectation of soft-then-syrupy, the bland flavor that was absolutely new to him, and the bright yellow color that contrasted with the black that he always just imagined as color. His void always had been a playground for imagination.

“Thank you,” Wilbur says through a mouthful, to which Tommy smiles weakly and sits down—after much delay, as if Tommy could’ve felt as awkward as Wilbur did right now.

Tommy grabs a fork and grabs a tentative bite, then through a mouthful, mumbles: “No problem, mate.” Through the corner of his eye, Wilbur watches Tommy and tries not to snicker at the forced face the blond makes to push through his disapproval of the meal.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, this shit takes like heaven,” he says, smally but still loud enough for Tommy to hear.

“I think I’ll throw up if I have one more bite of this, It’s completely yours, then,” Tommy says, pushing the plate a little closer to Wilbur for emphasis. Wilbur shifts back on instinct, looking up anxiously at Tommy before calming down. Sorry,” Tommy adds quickly. Wilbur waves him off and takes a smaller piece of egg to chew on absentmindedly.

“The fucking chocolate has been making my teeth rot,” Wilbur says, huffing a bit like it’s a joke. Like one of those things to look back on and laugh at.

Tommy doesn’t seem amused, though. “That sounds awful, man,” he adds.

“It’s not anymore, ‘cause now someone’s gone and saved me,” Wilbur reassures, gesturing mildly to Tommy.

“You’re welcome!” Tommy says, smiling like a child who’s helped with a chore unprompted. His mood changes are unmatched, Wilbur notes duly.

After that, time passed slowly, and for once, there wasn’t dread that followed. Tommy had cleaned breakfast up, and Wilbur kept the silence away while talking about this and that, until Tommy announced he needed to get groceries for his last couple of weeks in New York. Tommy’s plan was to have Wilbur stay back, but he declined, and instead asked to tag along.

For that reason, he rested carefully on Tommy’s shoulder, back resting against Tommy’s neck, completely vulnerable.The thought of that concerned him; to think about how any one of these people could work for that god-awful facility he was sent to, or any one of them could be holding a borrower captive, or how any of these people could absolutely hate his kind, and here he was, out in the open for any of those people to see. It was worrisome, and that had him tightening the grip of the hem of his sweater.

Tommy was pleasingly quiet, though, and it was just the two of them listening to music. (Or as much music as he could hear from sitting under the human’s earbud.)

He would’ve thought it to be harder to stay on someone’s shoulder, but even from the start he was persistent on that spot, only because it would’ve been incredibly difficult for Tommy to reach him without Wilbur noticing first—although he had gotten a little bit on edge when Tommy reached up to fix his hair or adjust his earbud. Sure, the human made him food and had gotten him out of that wretched bag, and had seemed pretty genuine about not eating him, he still wasn’t ready to be hand-held or in his pocket where he couldn't see everything.

Also, it was warmer here. Tommy and his need to linger around chilled foods.

Wilbur looks around, through Tommy’s curls, staring at the variety of foods. They were too far for him to recognize, (Not that he would know any of them by heart, considering he grew up on things he could score on the counter), but it was still so refreshing to see something real.

Suddenly, as his eyes graze over something on a high shelf, someone walks past and locks eyes with him. Wilbur tenses. The lady tenses, stopping abruptly. Unfortunately for him, Tommy also stops to look at something.

The lady gives a curious, almost disgusted look, and Wilbur, not knowing what to do, proceeds to flip her off.

It was not until that motion Wilbur realized he was just caught doing something to absolutely draw attention to himself until he was much too late.

“You!” the lady says, rather loudly—definitely enough for Tommy to turn his attention to her. “Control that thing,” she finishes, a certain type of offensive dripping from her tongue that makes even Tommy tense. Wilbur flinches at her voice, somehow moving closer to Tommy despite being right up against his neck. He crosses his arms, some kind of half-frustrated-half-ready-to-cry feeling washing over him which leaves him stone-faced and unmoving.

Thing. A single word and suddenly he’s back at the factory, being manhandled and thrown into a container with other borrowers, some panicked, some angry, and some oddly accepting. Wilbur was angry, pissed. He had been granted freedom from being cooped up in the walls with nothing to do except get food whenever he ran out. And he finally got a chance to see the world, to walk on pavement made for people his size and be social. And he had, for a week, and then he had made a lucky call when trusting someone and gotten thrown into a bag not a day later, sealed in darkness.

When Tommy had found him, however-long later, he couldn’t say he saw someone with the intent to capture him again. He saw a savior, and maybe that’s why he was so relaxed. Reality felt there again. He felt like he existed, and he didn’t pinch himself every five minutes to check he was really there. His limbs weren’t numb, and he could hum to himself without it feeling like the only thing to do.

Back at the supermarket, blinking his way out of memories, he realizes Tommy hasn’t said anything back, he just scoffs and mutter’s a whispered ‘fucking bitch’, and walks off, right past the woman who murmurs something incoherent to Wilbur. (He still knows it was about him.)

At the very least, Wilbur has walked away from that situation now knowing words can’t hurt anymore in comparison to his situation just barely a few days ago.

“People are awful,” Tommy whispers under his breath.

Wilbur just pats Tommy’s shoulder.

“Aren’t you fucking revenge-seeking or some shit?”

“No. I’m not a child,” Wilbur explains, and Tommy hides his laughter at a low snicker.

“You’re a bitch,” Tommy whispers, turning away immediately at the look he got from a stranger in the aisle. Wilbur laughs whole-heartedly, the sound escaping despite how hard he tried not.

(*)

His head hurts, with thoughts going a mile a fucking minute. The scent of chocolate undoubtedly drifting from Wilbur on his shoulder was making a repetitive thought resurface no matter how much he wanted to shut it up.

Wilbur smelled appetizing. He knew he would taste even better.

But he knows he can’t act on his urges because even if swallowing a borrower was safe, he couldn’t. Not for Wilbur, because he just got off a near-death experience, and he can’t fuck up freedom even more for Wilbur by giving him essentially the exact same experience, no matter how reassuring he thought he could be.

So, instead, he chose comedy over a very real and threatening problem.

(*)

“You reek of chocolate,” Tommy murmurs, opening the door to the apartment and letting it shut loudly behind him. Wilbur flinches, but calms down just as quickly.

“I don’t remember seeing a mini-flat in the, uh, bag,” Wilbur retaliates.

Tommy, playfully, scoffs. “Well, like I think I could fill up a sink or something and you could get the grime off of you,” the blond offers.

Wilbur pauses for a moment. “I guess ..?” he says, slow and uncertain.The idea was more than pleasing, but at the same time, it felt like an awful offer to take up. He would be vulnerable in water, arguably something that he rarely had experience with outside of an unfortunately occasional shower whenever he could score it.

At his approval, Tommy guided the two of them to a bathroom, and carefully drew his hand up to where Wilbur was, not grabbing at him, but letting Wilbur carefully pad is way off of Tommy’s shoulder and onto his laid-out hand, where Wilbur got himself comfortable—while at the same time leaving time to sprint off if he needed to—and waited for Tommy to set him down onto the bathroom counter.

Shifting over to be in front of the sink, Tommy then pushes something inside the sink down, then pulls both handles to the sink forward, and leaves the flowing water gushing for a few seconds before shutting it off and stepping aside.

“That water will either be fucking freezing or room-temperature but I can’t exactly change that, so, uhm, just sit through it, I guess,” Tommy says. Wilbur can’t exactly tell if he was apologizing or not, but he appreciated the warning.

“Don’t have much of a choice,” Wilbur shrugs.

“That’s the spirit!” Tommy laughs, then grabs something off of a shelf, folding it over the counter but letting a corner of it fall into the sink, which Wilbur considers relieving; the sink seemed too deep for his liking.

But, even with the advantage of the towel, he still wasn’t convinced this was something he was looking forward to. From afar, he can feel Tommy’s stare on him. He turns his head that way, and catches Tommy’s strong gaze. Snapping out of some kind of pseudo-trance, Tommy moves closer to him and sets something in the sink.

“I can’t really portion out soap yet, but here’s a spare bar I haven’t opened yet. Should help; you smell so sweet I swear to fuck if you don’t take a bath I’m going swallow you on accident,” Tommy says, yawning. He fucking yawns, meanwhile Wilbur’s whole world halts. He stares up at Tommy, who he had just an hour ago been raving about his trust with.

He had heard Tommy right, no doubt.

“What?” Wilbur asks through his shock.

Tommy wrinkles his brows, then unwrinkles them as they raise high and his face goes more shocked than Wilbur’s.

“Oh—nononononono, Wilbur, fuck. Wil, I’m so tired, I fucking—I didn’t mean to say that,” Tommy backtracks immediately. Wilbur can’t say he buys it. “I didn’t fucking— I wasn’t thinking, fuck, I swear to Prime I don’t want to do that, I’d never—” Tommy makes a choked noise and cuts himself off.

Wilbur swallows, unsure of how to respond. Clearly, he has some kind of high-ground here despite being…well, him.

“I–uh,” Wilbur’s voice runs almost dry. “There’s no reason to lie,” Wilbur says.

Tommy’s face falls. “I’m not lying, I—I didn’t think about what I was saying, I’m a fucking idiot, I am not a..a thinker or whatever the fuck it’s called,” Tommy tries. Still. Persistent motherfucker.

“You’re thinking about that,though, aren’t you?”

“Uhh….well,” Tommy pauses. “As a joke..obv—obviously, you actually think I’d…want to hurt you like that?”

“Swallowing me isn’t going to hurt me.”

Tommy seemed a little taken-aback by that. “Mentally. It will mentally.” Wilbur shrugs at that, staring into the pool of water that’s gotten a little foamy the longer the soap bar floats around in it. “I, uh, think I’ll go. Put away groceries and shit.”

Wilbur watches intently Tommy pick his pace up and walk past him, (Where Wilbur’s attention was nowhere but Tommy’s hands, which remained eerily still), then out of the bathroom with a solemn click of the door.

And now, Wilbur has been left alone, after a particularly jarring comment that leaves him wondering just how much longer Tommy will go playing the good guy. He did have to be thinking about swallowing him to have said it, accidentally or not. It was an intentional thought. He wasn’t that stupid.

Trying to drive his attention away from his inevitable fate, he turns his attention to the sink. The water’s temperature has probably dropped already, so with slight hesitation, he undresses and finds a way into the sink, (Which in the end was trying-to-inch-his-way-down-then-falling-in), then rests with the feeling of water against him. It was an alien feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. He waved his hand around the soapy water and heard it whoosh around him. That was real. The sink bowl that towered above him was real, and as he touched it, it felt cold and slippery against his touch.

Wilbur looks up, and the light fixture above him burns into his eyes. That was real.

He pinches himself. That was real, and he was still alive, through the world of darkness for only a lonely period of his life that’s over now.

—–—

#mw #brickfic #wilbur chocolate au #cw vore mention #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #dream smp g/t #dream smp gt #t!wilbur #tiny!wilbur #g!tommy #giant!tommy #WOOHOOoo!!!!! eight months later ^_^#thanks for breaking 100 notes on the other 2 chapters btw !! i am so hype about that :D

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