#g/t fanfiction

[andtheyreonfire]

take me home (what a wonderful way to go)

ao3

WC: 3,288

AN: something of a sequel to all to make you mine. For G/t July 2024, Day 9: Warmth.

~

Ren is cold.

It’s a familiar feeling, as it would be for a borrower. He’s four inches tall. His body doesn’t particularly like keeping heat. Most of the time he deals with layers and layers of scrap fabric, insulating every corner he might walk in, or, when none of that works, grappling into a heating vent so his face doesn’t turn blue and ugly.

He’s a step ahead of other borrowers, too, in that he was very purposefully and by no means accidentally discovered by a few humans. By—ten-ish humans. Whom, whoever, are rightfully enamored with him and give him everything a four inch tall person could ever desire, like warm food and their credit card numbers.

He is currently away from nine of his humans. He would currently kill for a bowl of Sojiro’s curry. He would even beg for a single noodle of Yusuke’s, before he traps him for stealing and forces him to model for several hours as—not even an act retribution, just forgetfulness.

His teeth are chattering. He cannot stop shivering. He feels—lightheaded? His brain’s all fuzzy around the corners. His legs are starting to feel numb. This is fine. Everything’s fine!

Because he’s near his tenth human. Tenth, for a variety of reasons. Like his probable homicide record and his utter disregard for borrower safety and the butterflies Ren feels whenever he so much as looks at him—

The tenth probably isn’t even home. Even disregarding his schedule, he’s always flighty. Never likes to stick in one place. Ren understands entirely, but his tenth isn’t four inches tall and at risk of freezing. He’s just paranoid.

“It’s not paranoia if there are genuinely people out to get me,” Goro's voice echoes through his mind. This was said, as most things are between them, conversationally, while Goro was stalking him throughout his apartment. How was Ren supposed to know what a “bus pass” was, and that it was unusable after he cut and used it as a coffee table?

Whatever. His tenth human, Goro Akechi, was his last shot. Before he’s forced to make the 5-story trek to Ann's apartment. Which is doable. Totally, doable, even more so that he pisses Goro off just enough that he feels his body heat, rather than Goro killing Ren himself—

Ren stumbles, nearly eating shit on the cold, metal vent he’s traversing. He took the fastest route, expecting warm air to envelop him the second he entered. But apparently, Goro's ideal temperature is only a little colder than his heart, and there is nothing blowing through his vents on a snowy, winter night.

His vision’s starting to fuzz—that’s normal, right? God, he can’t remember the last time he ate. He’ll take Goro's patronizing bread crumbs, even. It’s winter. He’s been busy. Maybe he’s a little unprepared, running on an empty stomach and with hardly enough layers to trek through this vent. Every step seems to drain Ren’s heat even further, every breath sends icy air spreading throughout his body.

Everything’s fine, because look, Ren’s here. He shoots his grappling hook at the lip of the vent—and it only bangs into the flat metal wall. He retracts it, hits the old bundle of gears and twine for good measure, and refires. Within seconds, he’s dragging himself out of Goro's vent.

God—was his floor always this cold? It’s exponentially worse out here, the chill of the open air going straight to Ren’s heart. His legs feel stiff. The expanse of Goro's kitchen is so, so massive.

He blinks once, twice. Hey, it’s okay, he’s almost there. He can hear Goro's fake, cheery voice echoing from across the room, a high-pitched hum as he says, “Yes, of course, Saito-san. I already have a portable heater set up. I'm sure you’ll get the heating system up in just a few minutes, you always work magic, haha.”

Ren trudges forward. He can only crane his neck up for a few seconds, before the glare of Goro's lights forces his head down. He’d be surprised if he noticed him. He’s wearing his sneaky thieving clothes, a thin, pitch-black coat that clashes perfectly against the cream white of Goro's tiles. Total stealth.

Goro offers a few more pleasantries and a goodbye, before his footsteps shake the earth. Distantly, Ren can hear him preparing hot water. Distantly, Ren wonders if he should dunk himself into it. It sounds nice, cozy. He continues forward. He probably remembers how to scale Goro's counter, right? He wonders if he can get a ride, or if Goro would just kick him aside like a football.

There’s really nothing stopping him from climbing right up. The counter’s right here, Goro just a few feet away. So what, if he’s so cold that he’s stopped shivering? He shouldn’t be fumbling with his grappling hook, forgetting how to brace himself before he starts soaring. He’s so close.

His grappling hook catches the very edge of the counter.

He’s got this. In three, two, one—

Ren compresses the trigger.

The ground falls beneath him, winking out into a distant view. Normally he’d chose a stronger anchor, but—He’s fine. He nearly hits his head on the underside of Goro’s counter, but he’s fine.

He blinks, hanging off the edge of his hook with one arm. How does he normally get up, again? Why is his head so fuzzy? Why is his grip swaying more than usual?

His legs dangle. He needs to do something. Why is he just—

The grappling hook lurches, slips, almost falls completely off the counter. Ren lurches with it, legs kicking and arms flailing as he tries to find any purchase, any at all—

His hand meets the hard surface of the counter. Muscle memory kicks in, and he swings his legs up, using the last of his strength to climb up. He even manages to throw his grappling hook up instead of letting it shatter to a billion pieces on the floor. Nice.

He’s on solid ground, so why are his limbs still shaking? They’re stiff, sure, but weak. He can’t be weak. He has a strong, mighty bloodline. Impeccable survival instincts. Charm and grace and unmatched humility. But—just sitting here feels like a good idea. Something in him is slipping. Really, he doesn’t even know why he came all the way up here—

A massive shadow falls over him, enveloping him like a wave swallows a seashell. He can’t help a shiver, both from the dip in temperature, and for the familiar, hair-raising electricity that shoots down his spine.

In his peripheral, a hand larger than his bed clutches the counter. Before him, a titanic torso stretches like the sunrise. He cranes his neck up, up, up, ignoring the jabbing pain behind his eyes, to stare into the looming face of Goro Akechi.

Goro doesn’t smile, but something of his expression still reminds Ren of a shark, a snake, the cat who got the cream. His voice booms, “Is there a specific reason you’re tracking footprints on my counter? Or do you just favor trouncing into places a bug like you shouldn’t be in?”

Well, at least Goro's actually at his apartment, instead of working the graveyard shift at his mysterious second job he answers no questions about. He probably just works at Big Bang Burger and is embarrassed. Anyways, Ren stands up, almost loses his balance, and pointedly crosses his arms instead of expending the energy to flail them. At least he’s not shivering. “I came here for ba—a v—very specific reason.”

“Oh?” Goro leans closer, his hands coming up to block Ren’s escape point. His breath washes over Ren, and its warmth only makes the cold air even more jarring. He can almost feel Goro’s body heat, if slightly blocked by a sweater and those dorky gloves he always wears. He just needs him a little closer. “And what is that?”

Ren’s body feels so, so light—his vision isn’t supposed to be this fuzzy, right? His tongue can hardly move. He either needs to piss Goro off until his warm hand pins down Ren’s body, or he decides to drop him in his toasty pocket to contain him. Either sounds heavenly. Ren says, confident as stone, “The reason is—“

Ren passes out.

***

He awakes to perfect, blissful warmth.

Hot air envelops him, filling his lungs and curling his toes. A warm, solid weight rests across his entire body. Not as warm as the blissful heat buffeting him, but enough to keep it trapped, the weird, leathery fabric of his blanket be damned.

And, oh, this is what it’s all about. This is the heaven mice go to after they perish in a glue trap, the afterlife hamsters enter after being eaten by a human child. The Valhalla borrowers ascend to after dying by honorable means, like dropping dead on his favorite human’s counter. He should’ve frozen to death ages ago. Ren snuggles back into this new, weighted blanket, letting this heat seep into his still-cold bones. Absolutely perfect—

A thundering bang echoes somewhere behind him, followed by a familiar, murderous growl, “Dropping dead on my fucking counter, who does he think he is—“

Ren’s eyes snap open.

He lies on a massive, plush surface. Before him, looming too high for Ren to take in all of it, is what Ren assumes is a human heater. It’s directed at his tiny form, Ren resting on a couch cushion like a pearl in an oyster.

Ren’s not dead.

He knows this when a pair of dark pants fill half of vision, and Ren can’t resist craning his head up, up, up, to see Goro Akechi looming over him like God’s shittiest angel.

He’s carrying something. A small something. A small something that he sets down next to Ren, slower than he thought humans were capable of. It’s a tall bottle cap. A warm, savory-smelling liquid sloshing as Goro sets it down, fingernails glinting in the light—

”You leave traces of yourself, everywhere.” Goro'd said to Ren, once the borrower was in his clutches, dangled over Goro's head by a single leg. “Someone will always find you, whether or not you think they’re searching. Whether or not you think they’re capable of exploiting what they uncover.”

Goro's not wearing gloves.

Surely Ren’s seeing things. He always wears gloves. Whether he’s dangerously engrossed in his detective hero fantasy, is genuinely that paranoid, or a secret third thing, Ren doesn’t know. What he does know is that Goro's left hand is bared. And that the missing glove is—

Ren shifts, pushes his hands against the heavy fabric blanketing him. He sits up the best he can, seeing enough to know his legs disappear into a familiar, wide shape. To know that Goro's missing glove is wrapped around Ren like a giant quilt.

It kind of smells like him, faint, cheap coffee and the hand lotion Ren’s smelled on his arms. It’s nice. It’s warm. It’s safe—

Goro's hand is retreating, him too engrossed in his task to even notice Ren sitting up. So, Ren does what he does best: channel Morgana’s instincts long enough to lunge over, and knock the cap of soup right onto Goro's couch.

Goro's hand freezes. Ren can see it shake. He can’t stop his heart from pounding as he watches tendons wider than his fingers flex, the curl of knuckles larger than his knees. It’s boring, under his glove: well-trimmed, zero dirt, paler than most of his body. Ren wonders if it’s just as warm. He’ll probably find out; it looks five seconds away from wrapping around his body and squeezing.

Before Goro can actually kill him, Ren says, “Now, this is a sight I wouldn’t mind waking up to every m—“ He clears his throat. Tries again, “Hey, uh. What happened?”

Goro's eyebrow twitches. Calmly, carefully, he rights the fallen cap, collecting the broth with his fingers and shaking it off somewhere behind his legs. Calmly, carefully, he lowers himself to a kneel, bracketing his arms around Ren. His heart pounds. “You tell me—or are you doing to kneel over again before you can finish the sentence?”

Ren snorts. He moves to speak, but Goro beats him to it, glaring at the stain Ren left on his couch. “I got that for you, you know. Fluids and preserving body heat are important when dealing with hypothermia. I expected you’d be stupid enough to put yourself into that state, but I didn’t expect you’d be so stupid as to fight me on recovery, especially considering how severe your case is—“

The hair on the back of Ren’s neck prickles. “I'm fine, not severe at all. I just needed a quick nap—“

“Oh, really?” Goro shifts back, slamming his bare hand right next to Ren. He can’t quite suppress a flinch. “Your body weight is unusually low, which is impressive, considering you already weigh less than a fucking leaf. Your eyes are sunken in. I can feel your ribcage—and you’re freezing to the touch.” Ren flinches, again, and tries to speak, as if Goro's current volume isn’t hurting his ears. “When was the last time you ate? Drank? Slept? I haven’t been able to check if you have frostbite or a genuine cold—“

Ren’s instincts flare. He scrambles for a defense. He’s too small, too exposed, too warm. He manages, voice high and sharp, “And you give a shit?”

Surprisingly, it works. Goro backs off, bare hand still lingering near Ren’s form. He seems to reassess itself, before his expression closes off into something utterly blank. “I wasn’t aware you were capable of fending for yourself.”

And, see, the thing is, Ren’s perfectly capable of doing so. Ren cannot, right now, considering his head is pounding and his legs are cramping and his hook’s on Goro's counter. He hates this. He hates this. He hates this feeling of helplessness, of having to rely on another person to maintain his wellbeing. He hates being vulnerable.

But more importantly, he hates this distance with Goro. This touch-and-go game, how he thought he was handing Goro a blatant victory with this but instead he’s—What? Making soup for him and giving him blankets?

And he hates the slight hurt in Goro's eyes, a sight clear as day from Ren’s tiny angle. He hates how he can’t have Goro concretely, and he hates how Goro is leaning, moving, inching away—

“Wait!” Ren blurts. Without thinking, he latches onto Goro's thumb, digging his nails into his skin before he can slip away.

It works.

Goro's here, his warm, warm breath puffing down onto Ren. He’s watching him like a hawk, face carefully neutral.

“I'm—“ Ren licks his lips. “I'm sorry,” he says, because he should. Because he means it. Because it’s easier to say over I love you.

Goro won’t accept that. It’s still Ren’s turn. A few moments ago, he could’ve backtracked, laughed it off. Of course all he needed was a nap and a snack. Always a generous host, Akechi-san, if you don’t mind him, he’ll be leaving—

But it’s too late for that. Goro's watching his next move, and he doesn’t know what else to say. Does Goro genuinely care? Will he kill him if he answers wrong? This is so difficult, fuck. This is why the only emotion Ren prefers to feel around Goro is fear. He needs to say something.

He’s never had to do this before, and he’s going to lose a lot more than his life if he doesn’t. He wouldn’t care if it was just his own survival, but—Goro's different.

Ren makes a decision.

“I need your help,” Ren says, voice barely audible within the expanse of Goro's room. He continues, even smaller, “Don’t leave me?”

And that, final nail softens Goro's expression into something Ren would almost call warm.

“God, you’re an idiot,” Goro says, his usual snark returning to his voice. “If you’re so desperate, you can stay with me for the night. You don’t take up that much room, I suppose.”

Ren melts in relief. Before he can ask if this means a truce, Goro starts, “I do really...”

Ren blinks. Goro doesn’t finish. Like the fool he is, Ren asks, “Really what?”

Goro's mask slides back on. To Ren, it’s just a narrow of the eyes in thought. “I do wonder when the heat will come back on. At least you’re not freezing anymore. What’re your symptoms?”

And just like that, the night passes in a blur. To Goro's credit, he is far less overbearing than Ren feared. He notes his symptoms (just a headache, it really was mild) with a hum. Fills the silence with talk of work and gossip while Ren takes his water and soup. It’s a nice alternative to accepting that he’s here, sitting on a human’s coffee table, too weak to escape—all the while accepting freebies like they’re nothing.

At least Goro's here, radiating heat, snatching Ren up without a second thought. His stupid attractive face constantly filling Ren’s vision.

At least he hasn’t pushed away someone he can’t bear to lose.

Some time later, Ren’s settled on Goro's bedside table, glove a leathery sleeping bag. Goro's voice hums in the background, droning on about some co-worker and their petty drama, or whatever. Ren can’t stop listening to him. He also needs him to shut up. “Hey, detective.”

Goro hums. “What? Is the arrangement not to your liking?”

No. He loves being level with Goro's face. His hair frames his head like a halo. His big, stupid eyelashes flutter with every sleepy blink. He’s never been this close when his life wasn’t in mortal danger. His heart is pounding like he is.

The faint adrenaline gives Ren the courage to say, “I needed this—I needed you.” Ren smiles. “Thank you, Goro.”

And something beautiful happens.

From the tips of his ears to the corners of his jawline, Goro turns red. His mouth parts, ever-so-slightly. And his eyes...

He expects Goro to snap, to glare at him and hiss something like I told you not to call me that. He expects him to kill him on the spot. Ren understands this part of Goro: the mortifying ordeal of being named.

Instead, Goro reaches over, bare hand filling Ren’s vision. Massive fingers scoop up Goro’s glove and its passenger, lifting them up effortlessly. Ren can’t see anything aside from dark leather, can’t feel anything except the warmth of Goro’s hand. For a second, he doesn’t even care how vulnerable he is. He could stay like this, weightless in Goro’s gravity, until the end of time.

Eventually, Goro sets him down. Ren knows where he is even before he hears the steady beating of Goro’s heart. He unfurls, finding himself tucked into Goro’s chest pocket. His chest rises and falls, carrying him with it, burying him into warmth, fabric and utter bliss.

Goro mutters, voice reverberating through Ren’s core, “It’s easier to keep an eye on you, like this.” When Ren can’t help but smile up at him, Goro snorts. “Good night, Joker.”

And with that, Goro's bedroom plunges into darkness. Ren huddles into Goro's glove, hands reaching out to clutch the fabric of his pocket. He can’t help but smile brighter when he feels Goro’s hand curl around him, not overbearing, but close enough to feel his vulnerable skin.

“Call me Amamiya, at least,” He whispers into the night air. Even if the heat came on right now, Ren wouldn’t feel it, not for the warmth thrumming through his veins. “Or take me on a date first, Goro.”

He’ll tell Goro everything, soon, Ren decides, and drifts off to sleep.

[lulubelle0318]

I have motivation to work on The Borrower of the Keep. I wrote two chapters in three days, LET'S HECKIN GO!

@theloveforart @scrunckled-idiot

[sizediscount]

hello!

i made a (safe for work) 18+ genshin impact g/t server! just wanted a space to discuss aus as well as sharw my art and writing. if you’d like to join, the link is here (^∇^)

[kittydoremi]

Commissioned art of my Sonic and The Cursed Bracelet fanfic/au from the talented @smallpwbbles

I love how the art turned out so much!

I can't help it, I love Sonic giant/tiny fluff and angst, and sonadow makes it even better

Night Giant Sonic 🦔💜🌙

read the fic here

[scrunckled-idiot]

*SLAMMING FISTS ON TABLE*

EHEHEHEEHEEHH

YAYYAHAHGHEWGFGYEFEHGFGRYT

LOOK AT WHAT @canisxx DID FOR MEEEEEEEEEEEE

THEY DREW MY GOOBERS FROM MY GOOBER FANFIC

TEE HEE HEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

ITS SO FUCKING GORGEOUS AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

*GOING FUCKING MENTAL*

BETTER THAN I EVER COULD AHAHAHAHAH

FOLLOW CANISXX PLEASE BECAAUSE HE'S MY BESTIE UHRHFGYRBFYRGHBTVRYJEGH

it is, in her words, *ahem*

"the yapper and the listener"

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 38

Jaskier has kept a secret for years. The ring with dandelions carved into it that he wears every second of every day is the only thing keeping him from turning into ash. He sleeps with a lovely woman one night, desperately trying to move on from Geralt (it doesn't work, he is still very much in love with his best friend) only to awake in the morning and find- FUCK She stole his ring! That conniving little-! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What does he do!? He races to the mirror and it confirms his worst fear. The glamour the ring gives him is gone. He can't see his reflection. He reaches a hand up to his mouth and feels his fangs. No- Nonono! Then his worst fucking nightmare ON TOP of his worst nightmare happens. He hears the stomping footsteps of a witcher approaching their room. Godsdamn it all. He hears the doorknob jiggle and.. Alright, he'll be the first to admit it, he panics. "DON'T COME IN, GERALT" The doorknob jiggling pauses. "Jaskier? Are you alright?" "Y- YES! Perfectly peachy! Don't come in!" Jaskier rushes around the room, pacing in panicked circles like a caged beast. He was a caged beast. He reaches to close the curtains of the only window in the room and like an idiot, he fumbles in place and ends up with his hand in the direct sunlight. He shrieks in pain and holds his hand to his chest. Geralt, scenting agony and hearing Jaskier yell, barges in without another moment of thought. Only to see Jaskier scrambling away from him in fear. In all his years of knowing Jaskier, he has NEVER been afraid of him. It physically pains Geralt to see it now. He doesn't understand why he wasn't allowed in. There's no lover of Jaskier's hiding in a corner embarrassed at being caught, Jaskier isn't indecent or anything, so why-? Then he looks at Jaskier, truly looks at him, and sees his blue eyes are glowing, and his mouth - Parted open as he pants - reveals fangs. Geralt's eyes dart to Jaskier's neck and it's confirmed. The worst part of it all, is the way Jaskier's eyes keep glancing between the door out of the room, and Geralt's silver sword. Geralt is infuriated. Not only did the woman Jaskier take to bed last night turn Jaskier into a vampire, but she also made Jaskier fear Geralt because of it. When Geralt says he isn't going to harm (let alone KILL like Jaskier had feared) Jaskier for the twentieth time, Jaskier finally believes him, and begs him to help him track the woman down. Geralt is intent on killing the vampire that ruined poor young human Jaskier's life. Jaskier is intent on getting his human-glamour, sunlight-immunity-enchantment ring back from this human he slept with, so he can go back to pretending he's human, like he has been doing for the past hundred or so years.

[kodared]

✰ Stanford & Borrower/Anomaly Reader ✰

fears not enough they have to tear him apart.

Chapter 1/?

Wordcount: 2,057

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

★ - Also on AO3! - ★

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… 

That man did not leave his journal for one moment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...It was bipedal!- have you ever-” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Predictable as always. 

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

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

…Maybe you where being a bit mean. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

…He left a dish. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

… 

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

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

One thing on the counter caught his eye in particular. 

As he picked it up he examined it thoroughly. 

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

“...Fascinating..” 

---

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

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

[lightnis-moonlight]

I got a funny idea after watching the staff members laying on Vashs new mattress. Vash comes in to try it out he doesn't realise reader was there (she fell asleep waiting for him and he was sleepy) and unknowingly lays on top of her! She's fine though the mattress is very soft and spongey so she doesn't get squished but she wakes up a bit surprised as to why everything is dark only to realise she is beneath Vashs underbelly! She tries to wiggle out but she is stuck so she tries tickling his belly! This would be good as a comic strip!

He'd usually be more careful to not accidentally lay on or squish anyone. But this time was an exception. He just wanted to try the mattress and didn't notice. I wonder when he'll wake up...? At least he is warm... You might want to take another nap. Because you'll be stuck for a while. xd

Thank you for your ask! ^^ This was indeed quite fun! :3 I wish you all a wonderful day! <3 C ya! >v<

[andtheyreonfire]

at the end of every tether

Ao3

WC: 3070

AN: hbd @sizediscount !!!! i got you a serial killer <3 for G/t July, Day 19: Out of reach.

~

Ren’s never actually seen what cognitive rulers do when he’s not fighting them.

He’d assume they’d despawn, like a boss they haven’t hit the cutscene trigger for yet. But Futaba points out their constant presence during every infiltration. They seem more like puppets, than anything. A mouthpiece regurgitating their owner’s fucked-up ideals. A chipped piece of grey matter that wandered around, aimlessly, until it decided to kick the Thieves’ ass.

It was a consideration, that they would just sit on their fancy little throne like the ruler they were, seemingly alone in their corrupted little corner of heart. Ren didn’t think he’d be right.

Ren also didn’t think he’d confirm this by being locked in a massive, golden birdcage, eye-level with the absolutely oversized ruler of Akechi Goro’s palace.

Akechi’s palace seemed a maze of sharp corners and dead ends. Ren’s third eye was only good for uncovering the non-lethal, annoying traps, and Futaba’s Persona was only good for leading them around in a circle. It was a long, tense few hours until they found their way into something that seemed like a next room—

Before it was revealed that their hours of struggle took place in a literal rat maze, located near in the middle of an absolutely titanic castle. And, while the majority of Shadows were normal-sized and scurrying around like rats, there was one, massive problem they could hear stomping in the background.

Ren didn’t realize Akechi’s cognition was stalking them until it was too late. Until his current party was downed, him included. Until genuine fear was singing through his veins, watching the cognition shrug off his remaining teammates like mosquitoes. Until his mouth was already forming the words, wait, please, don’t hurt them, take me instead—

“I’m not one for consolation prizes,” Akechi’s cognition had boomed, Ren craning his neck up, up, up, just to see past his crouched knees. Before he could even flinch, a massive, gloved hand filled his vision, Akechi’s warped face regarding him with a possession he’s never seen on him in his life. “Though, who am I to deny ownership of a new toy?”

Really, Ren should’ve known something was up the second they confirmed Akechi’s third keyword as beanstalk.

And now, Ren sits, cross-legged and cross-armed in a birdcage larger than his room. He is, by all accounts, the human thief from Jack’s fairy tale, and Akechi’s brain is going to grind his bones to make his bread. Perfect. Just perfect.

At least his teammates are safe, with plans and plans to rescue Ren and reunite. And, considering the way Ren screamed after the cognition had tossed him up into the air like a pebble, probably planning a cognitive shutdown upon their return.

It’s not like they hadn’t discussed it, between questions of why, why, why. Why here? Why now? Why Akechi? Why was Ren so quiet as they discussed the very valid option of letting his mind decay—

A massive, cold shadow blocks out the light. Without seeing its owner, Ren scrambles back, his spine hitting the gold bars of the cage. A part of him doesn’t want to look, doesn’t want to see the face of the boy he played billiards with looming above him like a skyscraper. So, Ren doesn’t. It’s a perfect, fool-proof strategy—

Up until the cognition’s voice crackles through the air like distant thunder, “Hm. Bored, now.”

Ren’s eyes snap up, just in time to see a massive, stupidly fast hand reach in the cage. Ren doesn’t even have time to get his feet under him before it wraps around his body, and yanks him out like a child’s doll.

Ren isn’t thinking about the fact that there’s nothing between him in the floor except the cognition’s hand, it squeezing his arms to his side and curling a pinkie under his legs. Ren isn’t thinking about his face looming above him, nor that the eyes locked onto his body are larger than his head. He certainly isn’t thinking about all the things the giant could do to him, nor the realization that, after everything, this might be the first time Ren would need a revival bead—

The cognition flops back against his throne, kicking his feet up against a building-sized ottoman. As if remembering the thief in his grip, he brings Ren to his face. Ren stalwartly refuses to look at him, squeezing his eyes shut, even as this Akechi chuckles and brushes a thumb against his head. There have been many palaces Ren disliked but this one he thinks he truly hates—

“I know I’m a lot to take in,” The cognition purrs—that’s not right, some part of Ren’s brain manages, only stopping himself from panicking by a thread. “But you don’t have to hide. It’s not like you haven’t seen more than my face.”

The soft pad of a glove prods against Ren’s face. He sputters, squirms, but eventually the cognition pins his head between his thumb and the side of his finger. Ren can only shudder as it pushes his mask right off his face.

Ren’s pulse spikes. He creaks his eyes open, only to squeeze them shut as the cognition’s finger fills his vision. It hovers too close for his eyes to focus, a padded glove brushing against his forehead and—brushing the hair out of his eyes?

Because he’s always been an idiot when it came to Akechi, Ren opens his eyes.

The cognition stares back. “There we are.” He smiles, and the stretch of his face is one too many things to focus on, because— “There’s that pretty face of yours.”

Ren’s cheeks burn, heart hammering in his chest. Instead of addressing anything, he takes in the—expanse of the cognition’s body. He appears to be nothing more than an oversized facsimile of Loki. He wears a striped, band-like jacket. The patterns fade and curve in a way Ren can’t follow, not against the length of his massive arm. Minus the searing bright gold of his eyes, the cognition looks human—aside, of course, from the red horns jutting from his forehead like streetlamps, his absurd height, and—are those fangs—?

Akechi’s cognition is grinning down at Ren with fangs longer than his hand. Ren is utterly trapped, probably barely bigger than the thumb of the giant holding him. Ren is trying not to process the last sentence the cognition breathed into this world. After everything, he barely catches his low murmur, “I thought you’d be more entertaining than the shadows scurrying around here. I wonder, would you scream as well as them?”

Every ounce of blood drains out of Ren’s body. The cognition’s eyes crinkle in delight. Latching onto the conversation topic—and knowing that he probably would, and every bit of Akechi’s psyche would love it—Ren says, “Do the shadows here not worship you?”

The cognition hums, the sound reverberating through Ren’s chest like a bass. “Oh, they should—but, no. I’m the only thing that deserves power, around here. They’re nothing more than distractions.”

Ren fights the urge to shudder, remembering peeking into a room with the cognition in it, watching him idly dispose of a group that would overwhelm the thieves with just a few, white-hot blasts of energy.

He’s distracted enough he almost doesn’t register the words vibrating through his core. “Goro-kun’s cognition only allows for one person in power, I’m afraid.”

Ren blinks. His mouth feels, suddenly, dry. He tries to read the cognition’s face, even just the few feet in front of him, but all he can read is the same, vague satisfaction. “You know?”

“Everything, yes,” The cognition says, and he says it so assuredly Ren feels the urge to believe him.

“That you’re not real?”

The cognition seems to start, at that. He pulls Ren closer, higher, holding him above his towering face. And, without even a twitch as warning, he lets go.

Ren falls, wind whipping through his coat and his hair and, suddenly, the surface of not-Akechi’s lap seems more like it’ll break his legs than anything. And, suddenly, Ren’s voice is escaping him in an involuntarily scream, Akechi’s body shooting past him and the ground rushing closer and—

Idly, lazily, the cognition’s other hand catches him. Ren lands with an oof in the massive palm, less than a couple meters away from a bone-breaking fall. Instinctively, to assess the threat before him, Ren looks up.

He has to crane his neck back to see the cognition’s face, the way his fangs gleam in the light of his throne room as he asks, “Does this seem fake to you?”

Ren can barely form words, more focused on taking shallow, even breaths. Thankfully, the cognition beats him to the chase. “Goro-kun’s known the rules of the Metaverse since he was fifteen. If he hadn’t already awakened, I’m what would be his Persona. Since he’s awakened several, was a Cognitive Pscience guinea pig, this that and the third, I’ve known I’m a cognition since the moment these palace walls formed.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Ren croaks.

The cognition shrugs, bringing Ren up a closer to the billboard of his face. “We have a compulsion to tell the truth. Besides, you’ve always been a great listener.” He smiles, a little less sharp. “I’m sure you have more questions. Ask away.”

Ren figures he doesn’t have much to lose, so he tries, “Can you let me go?”

The shadow laughs, a sharp, painful bark that leaves Ren clutching his ears. He says, in the same tone Akechi would use when Ren would risk everything to do a ridiculous trick shot, “Be serious. You’re trying to steal my heart, are you not?”

Wary of the shadow’s fingers hovering around him, Ren tries, “Does Akechi not want us to change his heart?”

“Every ruler wants someone to change their heart.” The cognition rests his head on his hand, eyes flicking up to the ceiling. “It’s why there’s always a route to the treasure—or a route to a bullet in their head. Subconsciously, humans will always desire help. Goro-kun will scream and cry and bite once you send him that calling card, but, in the end, he’ll be a changed man and everything will work out fine.”

He draws out the final syllable. His fingers twitch towards Ren, and Ren hasn’t missed a warning since Kamoshida’s castle. “Do you have anything more interesting to ask?”

Ren swallows. Well, he has time, and if the cognition’s being honest... “Are you going to hurt me?”

The cognition peers down at him, the glow of his eyes nearly blinding, “Hasn’t Goro-kun already done enough?”

Ren remembers February, December, November. Ren can also see what’s looming within arm’s reach, “Then why am I in the palm of your hand?”

“Why change the heart of every person you come across? Why surround yourself with friends willing to die for you? Why use my life as a bargaining chip during that February?” The cognition pokes him in the side. Ren flinches. “Do you know how easy it would be to take advantage of your size? Goro-kun’s never truly had power over you, but I do. And what can you do about it?”

“Stop you,” Ren breathes, like a mantra, “We’re going to fix this, we’re going to save you—“

“You’re so cute,” The cognition says, like he’s baby-talking a kitten. “I could hurt you, if I want to state the obvious. But, I think it’d only break Goro-kun’s distorted heart if I killed the boy he loves.”

The air in Ren’s lungs goes cold. A beat passes. Two. Eventually, he manages to stutter out, “I’m sorry?”

The cognition searches his face, eyes gleaming like a spotlight, before fanged lips curl into a smile. “Aw, you didn’t know? It really didn’t take a detective. You were his only companion, why wouldn’t he develop a puppy crush?” Ren can’t quite convince himself he’s lying, can’t quite pull air into his lungs before he rumbles, “You weren’t there for the dozens of unsent date invites, the Wikipedia pages he read just to impress you, and, oh, the way he threw up that curry you made for him when he killed you—“

“Stop it—“ Ren tries, tries, tries. “Let me go—“

“He needed you, and he couldn’t stand it.” The cognition lifted him up, running a finger down his side, his touch gentle. “He had to push you away, you see? Push himself into nothingness, find the magic beans that would help him repent, but also forget you.” Ren squirms, grunts, but massive fingers press against him back, hold him still as the cognition pets him. “He failed, if it wasn’t obvious. He thought of you every night, until his heart became corrupted, and his desires swelled his perception of himself into me. Don’t flatter yourself, truly, it wasn’t only because of you—with everything that’s happened to him, it’s a miracle it didn’t distort sooner.”

“You’re—“ Hurting him, except he wasn’t. The cognition was just petting him and talking to him and Ren wanted to crawl out of his skin. “Stop—“

“And now, I’m here.” Goro hums, finally flipping Ren onto his back, pinning him down with his index finger. Ren struggles against the weight, and only feels the cognition’s breath wash over him in a silent laugh. “I’m here to do what he was too helpless, to small to do. He never wanted to let you go? Then I won’t. He wanted to lock you in a cage, away from anyone else but him? Then I will. He wanted your entire world to narrow to his hands, to pull your life on a string guided by his fingers?” The cognition leans in. Smirks, wide. “Who am I to deny him the privilege?”

Here, an arm’s reach away from his massive face, Ren can tell the cognition is telling the truth. His organs feel too large for his body. He fights the urge to shield himself, to claw out his heart, to plead and beg and ask why didn’t he just tell me—?

It’s not like he wasn’t fond of Akechi, but even if he could make his lips form the word love, he’s sure neither of them would want their relationship to progress like this.

Though, what is this cognition, but twisted desires made real?

“Don’t worry about anything else, okay?” The cognition continues, after Ren’s almost caught his breath. “I’ll take care of everything. If your thieves are smart enough, they won’t come back to us. If not—what’s a few more pests to squash?”

The cognition peers down at him, lips turning up as Ren writhes under his finger. It’s impossibly heavy, crushing the air out of his lungs, the weight of the cognition's words flutter around Ren’s head. His blood-red gloves look so small against the cognition’s digit, and for all of Ren’s Metaverse strength, he doesn’t budge an inch. He probably won’t even be able to save his friends.

“You’re so cute when you squirm,” The cognition says, with a tone like dark chocolate. “Maybe I will keep you around. I have all the treasure I need, right here—“

“I’m sorry,” is the only thing Ren can think to say.

The cognition blinks at him, like a cat watching their prey. Ren licks his lips, wills himself to breathe under the weight of his finger. “I’m sorry we let it get this bad. I’m sorry I didn’t know you were alive until a week ago, that I didn’t do anything to help you. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you lo—your feelings until it was too late.”

The finger’s weight lessens, a little. Ren continues, peering up, trying to see if he can pierce through those golden eyes. “I’m going to fix this, Goro. We’re going to save you, I promise.”

The cognition stares at him. Ren recognizes the poker face as the one he’s leveraged to Goro countless times. Gradually, he lifts his finger off Ren’s chest. Ren doesn’t move, lying on his side, waiting for the cognition’s next play.

With the force of a runaway train, the cognition’s fingers snap to Ren’s collar. The surface of the massive palm vanishes. Ren’s legs flail, his hands trying, in vain, to stop his coat from choking him. The cognition pulls him up, until all he can see is his eyes, staring him down like speeding headlights.

“Don’t pretend like this isn’t a game to you and your group of Phantom Thieves, like I haven’t ruined every—“ The cognition cuts himself off, barks out a laugh. “You don’t care about him, you never did. That’s why I’m here, to give him what he’s too cowardly to take.”

“That’s why I’m, here, too,” Ren grunts. He debates kicking out, clipping the edge of the cognition’s nose with his boot, but considering how far off the ground he is—and how close he is to the cognition’s mouth—he thinks better of it. “You think I wouldn’t come all this way if I didn’t care—?”

The cognition stands up in one, fluid movement. Ren can’t help the scream he gives, nor the way his hands claw for purchase against massive fingers. Genuine sweat beads on his forehead. The ground’s so far away—

“I wonder, how your thieves would react to seeing you reduced to a stain?” The cognition stomps forward, fingers steel around Ren’s scruff, even as he kicks and sways. “You seem to forget your place, little thing—“

Static electricity sings through Ren’s veins, adrenaline keeping him struggling, even as the cognition dangles him over a skyscraper-sized drop. “Goro—“

The slam of the cognition opening the cage is the only thing Ren can register, before he sends him flying through the air. His side hits the gilded floor, sliding across it like an abandoned toy.

“Fe, fi, fo, fum. I smell the blood of a lying thief.” Ren cranes his neck up just in time to see the cognition slam the door closed. He glares down at him, his shadow blocking out the light, and Ren’s never quite felt so small. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

With that, the cognition stomps away. He settles down into that massive throne, ignoring Ren like he truly is just some pet in a cage. Ren’s hands swelter. This sucks. This sucks, and yet…

All he can do is sit back, wait for his thieves, and hope that, after they change Goro’s heart, making things right isn’t too out of reach..

[lulubelle0318]

Another WIP that I might never finish, but I want to write another beanstalk story, but with the TF2 mercenaries as giants. Debating who I want to have as Jack.

[sizediscount]

sizediscount’s g/t fic masterpost

dont really post much on here and im not too keen on cross posting to tumblr atm just because of the effort it takes, so heres a masterpost of all my genshin g/t fics :)

divine comfort

one shot, 759 words.

Raiden and Aether enjoy a comforting moment with eachother.

[AO3]

everything else disappears (when you come around)

one shot, 1.6k words

A Haikaveh Borrower Au

[AO3]

am i winning your heart?

one shot, 1.8k words

fairy!twins + big brother dainsleif share some pie with venti

[AO3]

never see the sun back home

multichaptered, 1.3k words

borrower!aether au centered around the anemo characters

ch 1. ||

[kittydoremi]

Commissioned some more art from the talented @smallpwbbles, this time from my Sonic and The Sol Flower fanfic/au! I love SonElise, and I wanted to make a fanfic with the giant/tiny trope with them ^^

(I need to update it, I haven't updated it in a while .-.)

I love how these sketches turned out so much! :D

[the-dragon-hearted]

MORE low-budget memes for the fanfiction

[scrunckled-idiot]

been messin' around with sfm to get some inspiration lately. so i made dells home :)

it was very fun to put together

[tomfrogisblue]

I just wanna thank cc!Cellbit for fulfilling my personal Wishlist of Fuckery while he was rampaging with Baghera today

Fucking with each member of Fuga Impossível individually ✅️

Searching out Pac specifically with The Voice ✅️

Messing with Ljoga and Malena ✅️

Threatening Natalan ✅️

Generally having fun torturing his friends and strangers alike ✅️

And finally, murdering anyone he wanted ✅️

[kodared]

✰ Stanford & Borrower/Anomaly Reader ✰

fears not enough they have to tear him apart.

Chapter 2/?

Wordcount: 2,684 / 4,741

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bingo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…You almost forgot how large this guy was. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

His hands rested on top of his forearms, which- 

… Don't humans usually only have five fingers? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You almost forgot about the snoring behind you. 

Until it stopped. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

   “Stop!-” 

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

-- --- - - - --

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

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