#giant/tiny romance

[st4rsinthenight]

★So urh. A very specific yet, fluffy, G/t trope that I oddly adore is that erm.

Well. Giants wearing lipstick.

|☆| For some reason it makes me all flustered and stuff. No erm, I sometimes imagine a giant applying lipstick to their lips and then, well- just giving their beloved tiny, a kiss on their face or something. Maybe imprinting a faint lipstick mark on either their clothes or face, the tiny oblivious to the fact that their skin or outfit now is stained in their giants lipstick. Erm. Maybe the giant may find this a bit amusing, holding back a little laugh as to not alert their little partner of their now red stained- or whatever colour of the lipstick is, face and urm- |★| Or maybe the tiny could help the giant with their makeup? Maybe be the one applying lipstick to them, assisting them with getting ready for them to go out and stuff. And once they are done, prolly a bit tired from having to hold a makeup equipment that might just be larger than them- the giant decides to show their gratitude by erm, kissing them or something. Now in this scenario, the tiny could get frustrated because they just spend so much time on painting the giant's lips and stuff- but they also feel a bit flustered or- urhg.

..I have a problem I think.★

[kittythegengarmonarch]

Well, this is canon to my fanon in its right. lol Keyo is more of a troll than his original counterpart, but his soft side has never changed. (I totally didn't referrence Home Alone in it.) ^^ Still haven't though of a good name for genderbent Gargantua. lol But I did give her markings a nice bluer color. Me And The Bad Bitch I Pulled By Being X | Know Your Meme Do be aware that I am stressed about two of my friends' well beings, as well as MBFA's existance, so please be nice to me in the comments. (Let's also be aware that while working on my big things, I'll be doing side arts too.)

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[narrans]

A Tall and Small Collection | S2.32 | From Fun to Fright

Ashlynn woke the next morning to the sigh of Sorn, her four-and-a-half-inch tall boyfriend, sleeping soundly beside her. The indent he made on the pillow was nearly imperceptible, but the impact he made on her heart was larger than life itself.

The boys had a sleep over with Hero and were out in the living room. There was no sound, even as the clock flipped over to eleven o’clock, meaning the boys were probably still sleeping.

Mayzie, on the other hand, was staring up at the ceiling chewing on her fingers happily. The Borrower toddler had a sixth sense for when Ashlynn was awake and, naturally, she tended to the child.

She tidied her up quickly and pulled off a miniscule piece of a granola bar she had in her purse, though the toddler merely sucked on her small fragment.

It wasn’t until Soren stirred that Ashlynn dared approach and kiss him tenderly on his chest. The warmth of his smile as he opened his eyes spread through her whole body.

“Morning,” he muttered sleepily as he rubbed his eyes with his knuckles.

“Well, looks like you slept well,” Ashlynn teased, daring to tussle Soren’s bedhead. He rolled his eyes and took the taunt with a wink.

“If it looks half as good as yours, then I take it as a complement,” he said. Stretching, he stood and hopped down onto the squishy mattress below, catching himself with his cat like reflexes, and walked toward Mayzie. “Good morning sweetheart.” Mayzie cooed and uttered, “morn,” before continuing to suck on her breakfast.

He sat on the bedspread across from Mayzie and began combing through her wavy brown hair kissed with the slightest auburn with his fingers.

“Dirty dust bunny,” he muttered. “You need a bath today.”

“Why don’t we go ahead and do that before the boys get up?” suggested Ashlynn. Soren paused just for a moment and looked up at Ashlynn.

“Why?” inquired Soren. “We’re not doing anything else today, are we?”

“Actually,” said Ashlynn. She bit her lower lip and averted her eyes momentarily. She had an idea of something she wanted to do with Soren for a while now, but had only worked up the courage to bring it up after seeing the boys have such a good night yesterday. “I had something in mind.”

“Oh?” asked Soren as he subconsciously wrestled Mayzie into his lap so he could continue combing through Mayzie’s hair.

“Yeah, I… well… I was thinking that you and I could do something tonight,” said Ashlynn, laying on her side with her head resting on her propped up hand. Soren’s quirk of a smile broadened as he eyed Ashlynn.

“I think I like that idea. What did you have in mind? Rooftop?” asked Soren. Ashlynn shook her head.

“No, something a little more daring,” said Ashlynn, running her fingers through her hair. Eyes narrowing, Soren guessed again.

“A picnic in the park?”

Ashlynn shook her head again.

“Well, I’m out of ideas. Going out in public for a picnic is pretty bold,” stated Soren, reaching up and scratching his scalp.

“Well… it is out in public,” said Ashlynn. “I want to take you to the movies.” Soren’s eyes widened as he stopped mid-scratch to look her in her stormy blue-grey eyes.

“Really?” asked Soren. His heart had skipped a few beats and only when he saw that Ashlynn, unblinking, was serious did he swallow dryly in response. “Public? Ashlynn, that’s dangerous.”

“I know, but I’ve thought it through already. I’ll wear a hoodie, so you’ll be hidden. I’ll put up my hood by my neck so no one will see. Plus, it’ll be dark,” said Ashlynn.

The thought of leisurely watching a movie at home was a delightful one. The thought of being out in public and possibly being seen or glimpsed was quite the opposite. Would he even be able to relax? Enjoy the date with Ashlynn with his sixth sense which detected humans going off in the back of his head?

His thoughts swirled in his head, but a quick, blushing kiss to the top of his forehead snapped his mind back to the moment.

“Please?” said Ashlynn softly. “I promise we’ll be alright.”

The earnestness in her voice and twinkle in her eyes was what pushed him over the edge.

“Okay… We’ll need to prep the boys and Mayzie, but…” Soren was interrupted by another one of Ashlynn’s heart racing kisses to the top of his head.

“Thank you,” she breathed. Without another word, she whisked herself out of the bedroom to get the bath ready for Mayzie.

While Soren still had some minor reservations, it was a worthy risk to see her happy.

The rest of the day practically flew by with chores and conversation.

Mayzie’s bath was an eventful venture to say the least. She was initially stubborn because there were no bubbles, but then was uncertain of them when Ashlynn added just a little too much bubble bath solution to the sink. Then, she refused to get out without popping every bubble in the sink.

After, everyone congregated in the living room where the boys finally were stirred awake by the sound of Ashlynn and Soren making breakfast, which was French toast. They worked on some of Rey’s inventions and played a few more games before hinting that they needed to finish up some chores.

Hero went home shortly after lunch, talking non-stop about the movies and how amazing the night was, thanking Ashlynn, Soren, and Rey profusely as he left.

The moment Hero left, Soren and Ashlynn told the boys that they were going to be going out for the evening and that the boys would be on their own for the rest of the evening.

“What?! What do you mean?” asked Rey, folding his arms and staring at Soren. “Why can’t we come? What are you going to go do?”

“Rey, they’re going on a date,” muttered Dorian, giving him a playful punch on his shoulder.

“Well, we’ve gone on those before with you. The picnic, remember? We won’t be a bother. We’ll be quiet,” pointed out Rey.

“Sorry bobbins. Not this time,” grinned Soren as he playfully ruffled his brothers’ hair.

Despite Rey’s protests, the only thing that Soren and Ashlynn allowed was for the boys to know they were going to the movies.

“WHAT?! The movies?! Now we have to come!” argued Rey.

“We’re previewing the movie,” stated Ashlynn. “It’s a little mature for the both of you, and certainly for little Mayzie. We’ll talk about letting you watch the first one after seeing this one. It’s the fourth movie in a series about a guy who was a… kind of secret agent, but for bad people.”

With a pouting lip, Rey eventually relented with the promise that they would all get a chance to not only see the movie, but also make it to the movies one of these days.

The evening was finally free and, after dinner, Ashlynn came out of her room dressed in simple black pants, a crop top white shirt, and a snuggly looking black and white plaid print coat that looked like a kind of poncho with a hood.

Soren, speechless, looked at her in awe. Beautiful inside and out.

“Ready?” she asked, holding out her hand. He nodded and kissed the boys and his daughter on the head before stepping onto Ashlynn’s outstretched fingers.

“We’ll be back soon. You have the emergency number on the phone on the couch. Everything you need is there and, if you need us to come back early, give us a ring,” said Soren as Ashlynn pulled him away.

“Bye Soren! Have fun!” The boys shouted as Ashlynn slipped their brother into the front pocket of her jacket.

Heart in his throat, Soren leaned against Ashlynn’s fingers and tried to breathe calmly as he felt the slight jostling of Ashlynn as she walked to the elevator. The doors clattered open and she stepped inside. In a low voice, she addressed Soren thoughtfully.

“They’ll be okay,” said Ashlynn. “They’ve been on their own before, and we won’t be gone for long.”

“I know,” said Soren after a moment. “It’s just… I haven’t done this in a while – leave them on their own since…”

“I know, and it’s… it’s going to be alright,” reassured Ashlynn. “We’re going to go have a good time, and it’s going to be fun. Okay? Remember that. We’re going out to have fun.”

Ashlynn curled her hand ever so slightly to cup Soren’s form. He reached his arm up and around her thumb, leaning against her appendage and squeezing hard to make sure she knew he was listening.

Ashlynn grew quiet as she walked out of the elevator to the parking garage where Soren was able to slip out and secure himself onto her right shoulder for the remainder of the ride. It was an enjoyable ride. Letting themselves relax, they sang along to the radio and laughed at some of the radio stories they heard, wondering how people could be so ridiculous.

They pulled into the parking lot of the movie theater where, for the first time since they got into the car, Soren fell silent. Before him was an endless sea of cars, each usually accommodating one to three humans. Seeing so many cars suddenly made Soren squirm.

It was nerve wracking to be out in the open with so many humans nearby. Any one of them could easily spot him and address it to Ashlynn. Or, worse, their phones could take pictures of him and Ashlynn together out in public.

His nerves felt tangible, his body shuddering involuntarily as he stared at the towering building in front of him.

Ashlynn reached up with her left hand, obviously sensing his tension, and touched his legs with her index finger.

“Ready?” she asked. Taking a moment, he breathed deeply and nodded.

“Yes,” he said definitely.

“Hey,” muttered Ashlynn, turning her head and bumping her shoulder, making Soren lose his spot. He slid off of her shoulder into her left hand where Ashlynn held him out so she could look him in the eyes. “I love you. I love your courageous heart and that you try so hard for me.” With that, she pulled Soren close and kissed his chest.

Soren sank into her hand, letting her soft lips press into his torso. Could she feel his racing heart? Could she sense how much she meant to him? Did she know how much it meant to him that she was trying so hard?

None of the words could form and, instead, Soren kissed her back, letting his hands rest on either side of her lips.

She pulled away and smiled at him. He thought about protesting, but instead nodded and managed a few simple words before Ashlynn slid him into her pocket.

“I love you too.”

Ashlynn was careful on her walk into the theater and made sure at every turn that no one could glimpse into her pocket. Soren, on the other hand, managed to see everything happening from his vantage point. He saw the oddly colored carpet and smelled the stale popcorn and candy.

Their seat was at the very back so no one could see Soren as Ashlynn fished him out of her pocket, pulled up her hood, and set him on her shoulder just inside the hood. Hiding just behind her ear, the two of them sank into comfort and watched the movie unfold.

Personally, there was a lot for Soren and he didn’t understand all of the references, but the man on the screen who was the, as Ashlynn said, “secret agent,” he was certainly flexible and moved with the agility of a Borrower, twisting and dodging even the most impossible task.

Ashlynn waited for everyone to leave before daring to snag Soren back from his perch and sliding him into her pocket once again.

The trip home was filled with discussion about the movie and whether or not Rey and Dorian would be ready to watch these kinds of movies. Ultimately, they decided they would censor some of the violent and naughty clips, but the overall concept was acceptable.

They were in the elevator and stepping out into the hallway just outside of apartment when Ashlynn’s phone began to ring. She glanced down at the number, which Soren managed to glimpse, and saw that it was Dorian calling.

“Dorian? What is he calling for?” asked Soren quietly. His heart began to pound. What was going on? Something was wrong… They wouldn’t have just called to check in on the two of them. “Ashlynn!”

“Got it.”

Ashlynn quickly fished out her keys and slid them into the lock. She hurriedly swung the door open, stepped inside, and closed it, both listening closely as they entered.

Both of their hearts sank as they heard a ferocious shout from the kitchen counter.

“Get off of me!”

It was Rey!

Ashlynn hurried forward into the kitchen, jostling Soren who she had taken into her hand, and rounded the corner.

As Ashlynn flicked on the light and, immediately, saw red.

Someone – a Borrower – had a hold on Rey’s leg and was dragging him across the counter. Blood was dripping from the guy’s nose and, the moment the light was on, both of them froze.

Soren recognized the Borrower immediately as one of his assailants.

Rey, taking advantage of the opportunity, kicked the Borrower hard in the knee and was free in an instant. Rey scurried away, tripping over himself as Ashlynn set Soren down on the counter.

Before he could say anything, Soren watched as Ashlynn’s hand descended around the stunned Borrower, snatching him off of the counter with incredible speed. In this moment, Soren once again remembered why humans were so dangerous as he watched the Borrower dangle from Ashlynn’s grasp high above his head.

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

Continue

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A Tall and Small Collection | Soren

ASK ME ANYTHING

[bonkalore]

This one's for the monster fuckers out there lol I figure this is the first time Lucy actually engaged with him when he was in his monster form after she realized she maaaay be kinda into it and wants to try. Jayce is not difficult to convince.

[tea-potato-gt]

You know how every couple of years, there is a sudden booms in specific romance genres?

There used to be a lot of Cowboys and mobs boss romances.

In the 2000s we had Monster romances with Vampires and werewolves.

Right now it’s Fantasticy Romace: Dragons and Fae (but not the small fairies 🙄 which is BS and they are cowards).

When is it time for the giants and fairy romance boom??

(“Shot in the dark” & “The Moth and the Bear”🙏pls convert more authors and readers to my cause🙏 I’m manifesting!)

If you have a G/t fantasy romance story, NOW is the time to publish while it’s popular! (That includes me too.)

[thevanillerose]

TITAN II | YANDERE!AIZEN x TINY!READER | BLEACH

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators. Content Warnings: Yandere / Kidnapping / Giant/Tiny / Violence A/N: Request [10/10] for my 100 Followers Celebration!

The final request, and it’s another sequel! I’m happy Part I was a hit, and that I have an excuse to write more Yandere!Aizen because that man…that man…

He gets a whole lot scarier in this part so you’ve been warned.

Your glass prison was maddening.

The cushions beneath you were soft enough, but you yearned for your real, actual bed. You were given food, water, all the sustenance required, but none of it you could enjoy. The box was minimalist, clinical, and yet it felt like a gilded cage. Always with the same view. 

His room. The room of the giant who had captured you. 

No amount of screaming or pounding against the walls had drawn anything more than an amused glance from Aizen, who had since settled into his chair with his ever-present calm composure, sipping tea as if your capture were no more significant than securing a rare artifact.

He didn’t care. He didn’t empathize or sympathize. 

He liked it. Seeing your hopelessness. 

You paced back and forth, your tiny fists clenched, your mind racing with possibilities. There had to be a way out—there had to. You couldn’t accept this as your fate. You wouldn’t. But every time you turned to assess the glass walls, the towering figure beyond loomed in your periphery. Aizen’s gaze never strayed far, his sharp hazel eyes tracking your every move.

Even when he wasn’t present (which was a rarity) you were scared to try your luck. Any time you had, it never ended well for you. The bruises and bite marks were indicative. While he may not have gone as far as trying to kill you, clearly preferring to keep you alive, he had still done enough to start whittling away at your will. 

“It’s futile, you know,” his voice cut through the silence, and your thoughts, like a blade, smooth and composed. He leaned back in his chair, setting down his tea with a soft clink. “You’re wasting energy flitting about like that. Save your strength.”

You froze mid-step, glaring up at him. A little anger flared, despite your nerves.

“You can’t keep me here forever. Someone will come for me. They’ll find you, and when they do—”

“They’ll what?” he interrupted, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Do you think anyone would dare challenge me here? You came because you believed yourself strong enough to defeat me. And yet…” He gestured lightly toward the glass box. “This is where that belief has brought you.”

His words stung more than you cared to admit. You wanted to believe you were tougher than this, but you had to be honest.

You’d never been more scared in your life. 

Still, you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you falter. If you just stayed determined enough, maybe you’d be able to find a way to get the hell out of here.

Maybe.

…

Later…

Aizen spent much of his time in this clinical looking excuse for a bedroom, seeming to have put most of his sinister plans on hold, or in the hands of other enemies, so he could dedicate his time to you.

It was a kind of torture. At your new size, it was all too easy for him to pick you up, push you around, squeeze you in his fist just to hear you squeak. You began to realize he had a twisted sort of love for you which had only become prevalent now. His fingertips would linger and caress on your skin in such tender patterns sometimes. He’d get this strange, blurry look in his eyes…

He wanted you. In ways you never would have expected. 

And how long he had, you didn’t know. 

Things could only get worse from here, that was something you were certain of. If this kept up, you were literally going to break. Somehow, in some way, you needed to find a way out of here.

Your opportunity came after Aizen had fed you at the usual time. At exactly midnight, much as he did at midday, he opened the box and lowered a meager portion of food inside, diced to a size you could kind of swallow. Of course, you didn’t make the mistake of trying to climb his hand to get out. Your abdomen still ached from the time you’d tried before, and he’d flicked you like a bug.

Such a simple, easy motion for him. An absolute gut punch for you. Literally.

So, no funny games. But…he had been a little neglectful this time around. You noticed the faintest gap between the glass lid and its frame after he set it back in place, and walked out of the room. 

Your heart leapt. It wasn’t much, but it was something. 

As it was midnight now, the gigantic menace had to rest. Surprisingly human, for such a monster, to lay down and rest his head against the pillow below him with such a peaceful expression. 

Now’s the best chance I’ll get.

Quietly, you made your way over to the cushion corner closest to the gap. Taking a deep breath, you crouched down low, built momentum, and jumped up with all the strength you could muster. It took a few tries, a lot of effort, but you managed to reach and hook your fingers around the hard edge of the box. 

Grunting, the soles of your bare feet slipping and sliding as they tried to find grip against the glass, you managed to haul yourself up and squeezed your body through the gap under the lid.

Finally, you slipped through. Jumping down, you landed on the desk with a delicate thud.

Freedom.

Now, you just had to get the hell out of dodge before he found you.

If he did…

If he did…

A horrible chill struck through your petite little body, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, shuddering with fearful thoughts. You didn’t want to think about it. 

The vast desk stretched out like a white wasteland, but you were focused on the edge, on freedom, on escape. Running over, you sought some way down that wouldn’t leave you dead on the floor as a crumpled mess, but his room was minimalist enough there was nothing stray you could cling or jump onto.

And, it was too late anyway. 

You could feel his presence before you heard him—like a storm cloud gathering behind you. You didn’t even have to look.

“Going somewhere?”

His voice, smooth and low, cut through the stillness like a blade. You froze in an instant, every hair on your body standing on end. Slowly, with a dread that made your stomach churn, you turned to see him.

Aizen was awake, standing right over you, his figure dipped in shadow. His hazel eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, boring into you with a mix of amusement and something darker. The dark cast chiseled shadows on his bare, muscled chest.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” he asked, his smile stretching into something sharp, something cruel. His tone was cruel yet calm, almost bored, and you trembled. You stumbled back instinctively, panic clawing at your chest. 

Think of an excuse! Think of an excuse!

“I-I wasn’t—”

“You weren’t what?” he interrupted, his voice dropping an octave. “Weren’t trying to run? Weren’t defying me? Lying doesn’t suit you, little one.”

Just run!

You bolted abruptly, running for the edge, desperate for something, anything, even willing to take a leap of total faith if that was what it took—but you’d barely made it two steps before his hand descended. 

His fingers curled around you, the force of his grip knocking the air from your lungs and throwing you backwards. You thrashed and kicked, your tiny fists pounding against his skin, but it was like hitting solid stone.

“Pathetic,” he murmured, lifting you to his face. His smile had vanished, replaced by an expression of cold fury. Any amusement was gone. He was plainly pissed.

“Do you know how insulting this is? I could have killed you long ago. A horrible death. Yet I spared you. And this is how you repay me?”

His grip tightened, the pressure making your ribs creak. You gasped, struggling for breath, your vision blurring as panic set in. “P-please,” you choked out, your voice barely a whisper. “I-I’m sorry—”

“Sorry?” His laugh was sharp, bitter, like the crack of a whip. His thumb jammed up sharply against your gullet, choking you, forcing your head back like he might snap it off entirely.

“No, you’re not sorry. Not yet.”

Without warning, he slammed you down onto the desk, the impact sending pain shooting through your body. You screamed, but there was no time to recover. His hand pinned you in place, his fingers pressing down just enough to make you wheeze. 

“You need to understand something,” he said, his voice calm and deliberate, but his eyes burning. “You belong to me. You are mine. And I do not tolerate disobedience.”

He lifted you again, your body hanging limp and aching, holding you by the waist, his grip tighter this time, his thumb pressing against your chest now, invasively, in a way that made it even harder to breathe. 

“And yet you insist on it,” he said softly, his tone almost mocking. “Disobeying me. Trying to leave me. Do you want me to punish you?”

He tightened his grip again, the pressure making your vision go white. You clawed at his fingers, your body writhing in desperation, but he didn’t let up this time. Tears streamed down your face as you gasped for air, the world tilting dangerously around you.

He’s going to crush me! He’s going to…kill me!

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice soft but cold. “To see how far I’ll go? To test the limits of my patience?”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t beg. Your body struggled feebly, your breaths shallow and ragged. He watched you intently, his expression unreadable, before his grip loosened just enough for you to suck in a desperate gulp of air.

“You’re lucky,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “I could end this right now. One squeeze, and it would all be over. But that would be too easy…wouldn’t it…”

His dangerous gaze flickered aside suddenly, to the edge of the desk. It was easy for you to see then, the cogs in his mind turning maliciously, and dread took hold.

“Aizen–”

Swiftly, he swung you over the drop, dangling you in the open air, only his pinching thumb and forefinger keeping you from a deadly plummet. Your heart stopped, your body going rigid as you stared down at the distant ground. 

“A fall from here would kill you,” he said, his tone almost conversational. “Shall we see how far you can fly?”

“NO!” you screamed, your voice raw with terror. “P-please, don’t—!”

His smile returned, sharp and wicked. “Then remember this feeling,” he said softly, pulling you back to safety. “Remember what it means to defy me.”

Lifting you before his handsome, huge face, you saw his lips curl into a relaxed, smug smile again, his gaze hooded and raking slowly over your little form, his breath heated when he spoke.

“It would be a shame, if I lost my precious little pet so soon.”

You swallowed thickly, flushing, looking away. The tip of his finger guided your head back to look at him again.

“I still have so many things I want to do to you…”

‘Do to you’.

Not with you. To you.

You felt sick. You didn’t even want to imagine it. 

“You’ll never try that again,” he said, his voice soft but malice-filled. “Because next time, I won’t be so merciful.”

His fingertip moved from your jaw to your heated cheek, gently dabbing away the tears that now wouldn’t stop falling. You sniffed and sobbed, giving up. 

Aizen, content with that, returned you to your prison, making sure the top was secured this time by placing a heavy book atop it. As he turned away to return to bed, you collapsed onto the cushions as well, your body trembling uncontrollably. Your chest heaved with ragged wails, which you tried to muffle behind your quivering hands so he wouldn’t be angered again. Your mind raced with fear and despair. 

He had been right about one thing. You’d remember this. You’d remember it every time you thought about running, every time you dreamed of freedom.

Because now you knew: he wouldn’t just stop you. He would break you.

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS! DECEMBER SALE: 25% OFF!

[ipilokko]

REPOSTING THIS BECAUSE I LOVE THIS PANEL

RRRATATATATATATATATATATATAAT 🥰🫁😭

GIVE

I WANT TO BE HELD

(Sorry for the anatomically awkward leg lmaoooo)

the panel is from here 🤭

[raidensmouth]

dinner night c:

[lnbeep-art]

"A favor for a favor."

It is the Year of the Snake, which means Cam gets some love and attention before the month of MerMay for once... In this house we love an enemies to lovers dynamic, even if only Ari sees him as an enemy. Cam's just the trickster who likes the attention, negative or positive. Doesn't matter when he thinks he's in control of a situation.

Bonus little short story in the "Read More" below! Lots of lore building for the world, size stuff in the halfway mark. Consider it a companion piece to this.

TLDR: Ari finds a way to wound primordials and gods, but at the cost of it cursing him. Cameron offers to help alleviate it at no expense, just because he likes him.

Ari’s arm had morphed into a black and stinging limb, spreading farther and farther toward his chest. How much longer before the curse would claim his heart? 

Time and time again he’d tried to rid the curse, but not even his half-divine blood empowered his magic enough to extract it. He considered himself a relatively competent healer, and he had lifted quite a number of curses from others before during his wandering through the mortal realm. Was this curse simply out of his depth? A wall he’d slammed into in his current ability level?

Ari clicked his tongue, dropped his unmarred hand, and let the pink magic in his palm fade. 

No, he thought and grimaced. The curse just didn’t want to leave. Just like that other presence that haunted the recesses of his mind, waiting to make due on the mark bitten in his skin. 

Pulling his sleeve down, Ari sighed, then mussed up his bangs in frustration. When he glimpsed his reflection in the mirror, he saw it again; the golden twin snake tattoo on his shoulder. Surprisingly, it was not the same shoulder which bore his curse, although he would have been remiss to ignore he had two arms where marks miraculously tainted them. When he’d first received the snake tattoo, his skin had been raised and irritated. Now, it blended in like any of the other golden decals he’d paint on his body. At times, however, the mark would glitter as if brimming with the sun god’s light itself. 

A few robes and overcoats were all Ari required to hide the blight. The challenge came instead when he’d returned to the Summer Court. Like bloodhounds, the High Order of Summer Elves’  long-lived lives could detect primordial stench on him. “It was just a product of seeing the Luck Devourer face to face,” Ari had reassured them at the time. He was a being born from the gods themselves, the first of their kind. Of course his comparative power and essence would linger on Ari, especially when he’d had his claws on him. A split moment was all it took. 

That explanation allayed their suspicions, and he’d had no further questions since. This time? They might unearth the secret faster unless he vanquished Cameron himself. Until then, Ari would not allow the order to relieve him of this duty.

“You’re welcome to try smiting me as many times as you like,” Cameron’s words echoed. “I’m sure you’re itching to cover up this blunder of yours, aren’t you? Same time next week then?”

Ari growled under his breath and clenched his good hand. Arrogant bastard. Why couldn’t he have just stayed smote? 

Several sunrises had passed since Ari’s visit to Zahn and the Solona Ocean depths, pushing ahead on the rumors of Cameron’s whereabouts. The primordial had spoken as if he knew Ari’s return was immediate, but Ari refused the serpent that satisfaction. Why? Let him stew. Exchanging words was no greeting Ari wanted to partake in, but his twin sabers would be the best “hello” he could give. One for the primordial’s tongue, the other to carve off his shoulder’s mark with his own blade. 

It had likely vexed Cameron—the fact of how long Ari had waited to cross his shores again—and the thought delighted him at least a bit. However, that was not his sole motive; some of the mortal realm’s regions had the best libraries known across the realms, holding ancient wisdom from the war. Accounts of those who had managed to slay lesser monsters, and stories of champions who had felled ones even greater than Cameron. Knowledge like that was often difficult to come by, if only not to disrupt the current balance of their post-war world.   

Yet if he read between the lines long enough, a method would reveal itself to him. He had to find it. How many centuries had elapsed of Cameron spiriting away interesting finds, transforming them into nymphs to belong to his underwater dominion? The Order of Elves had failed to wrangle him in, and they were eager to repay the torment he’d enacted over time. It had been the gods’ mistake to leave Cameron surfing through mortal waters, unbidden and uninhibited. More would see injury in the reign of his whims.

Their greatest question had always been Cameron’s aim. In their lengthy diatribes, the oldest elves on the order stated primordial beings’ actions were devoid of reason; they took because they wanted, and they intended to keep whatever they possessed. Cameron’s kinship to dragons meant, of all the discorded primordial beings left to walk among the realms, coveting and hoarding burned stronger within him. Maybe he felt he deserved what he took because the pantheon had given his kind the shorter stick. It was why the Order found his greed insatiable. 

Eldritch horrors, primordial beings—they went beyond mortal reason. Cameron’s true form should have been incomprehensible, yet the Luck Devourer’s features were instead easy on the eyes. “Beautiful,” as many stories depicted him. And it was that beauty that Cameron lured in to surround himself with. He had created sirens from his desires to roam the seas. That was one interest most recorded of Cameron; what other reasons he had to act with the freedom he pleased was lost on Ari. Truly as mysterious and deep as the Solona Ocean itself.

When he’d laid on the shore of Zahn’s capital, Rimerock—spit out by Cameron’s promise and left to catch his breath—he’d been struck with the wonder: what side did he fall on? Was he of interest to Cameron because he was beautiful, or because he amused him? The curiosity had vanished just as quickly. After all, it wouldn’t change the mark Cameron etched on him. And with how vibrant the color was against his skin, pulsing intermittently, he certainly hadn’t forgotten Ari either. Unfortunately. 

He had no intention of becoming another item on the Luck Devourer’s lengthy menu, and he would not allow a mark he could not remove, nor a curse that refused to lift, to best him. There must have been a detail they’d yet learned, Ari told himself. A clue from the unturned stones. 

That was when he’d found it. A spell which enhanced the sword, cutting not bone and marrow, but what mattered to any divine being. Their essence. To kill a god, you killed not the god itself but the many threads of belief tethering them to the realms. And since Cameron thought himself one, the same method would work just as well.

What felt like molten fire surged through his arm and Ari winced, clutching it. Was this his punishment because he’d ignored Cameron’s call? Times like these, Ari almost wished he had not vowed to be his own battery. Mother Nature’s blood was his own, which allowed Ari to use his own power to supplicate his cleric needs. A half breed, Cameron had called him. 

I’ll show you ‘half breed,’ you snake. 

The ratta-tatt of knuckles wrapping against his personal chamber’s door distracted him. Ari’s long ears twitched, and after adjusting the billowing sleeves a second time, he answered, “Come in.” 

The sound of nails clicked against the tile floor, and Ari caught a flash of pink and white wings in the mirror. Varys? he thought. What was the messenger of love visiting him for? It wasn’t that the two were unfriendly—hard to dislike Varys when he was his sister’s confidant. But love did not stop, so Ari and Varys rarely spent leisure time together. 

“I thought you might still be here,” Varys said, and as he spoke, his gaze snagged on Ari’s arm. Instinctively, Ari tensed, which only made Varys sigh. “I wasn’t going to say anything since your business isn’t my business, but I can smell the stench of that as far as the palace gates. It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

“How long have you known?”

A tired expression darkened Varys’ features. He snorted. “I know that it’s newer than the other trinket you have on you.” Varys tapped his own shoulder, the one that mirrored Ari’s primordial eyesore. “But you probably didn’t think I knew about that either.”

The archangel rank Varys held slipped Ari’s mind at times. The man often took the form of a werefox human instead of that of an angel, wielding digitigrade paws; furred, clawed hands; pink paw pads the color of blush; and the ears and tail of a fox, always alert. With the many tales mortals spread about Ivory and her herald of love, Varys had always said he’d play into the role of vixen. It seemed he quietly enjoyed it too. Ari thought it suited him. 

However, Varys was less keen to display his angelic lineage. Sometimes he brandished his wings in full view, and other times he hid them. Yet whether they were visible to the eye or not did not erase the angel in him. If anyone could sense evil on another, it would have been a holier being like Varys. And it had been Ari’s mistake in thinking he would stay completely under the radar. Had Ivory not noticed either? Unless she’d specifically asked Varys to pay Ari a visit, as was always the case for his equally busy sister. 

Ah, Ari thought. Varys’ visit made sense now. 

Ari turned to his work desk, clearing off the notebooks with their half-turned pages. He’d already demolished four of them in the past week, all filled with scrawls and his condensed versions of raving madmen, who believed they held the key to erasing divine creatures’ existence entirely. He scowled down at the notebook—how the light red cover became more stark under his pitch black hand. “I’m handling it,” he said. 

Varys crossed his arms. “Are you?”

“I will be. It’s his work, isn’t it?” As Ari spun to look at Varys, he paused at the way Varys’ brows furrowed. “...can you not tell?” 

Varys hesitated. “It’s old—I know that much. But it doesn’t exactly work like that, Ari. I’d have to know the caster well to know that it’s their magic.” He pointed a claw at Ari’s arm. “And both are relatively the same age, so the nature of your curse is foreign to me. …Have you thought of asking Cordelia about it?”

Ari’s mouth ticked downward. No matter if he was a son to Mother Nature or not, he would not burden the goddess with trivial problems he could solve on his own. It was the same reason he hadn’t sought out Ivory. “No need,” Ari said, his hand clasping the notebook and then the satchel hanging off the desk’s corner edge. He slung the strap across his shoulders and tucked the notebook inside. “I’ll be taking a short trip to Zahn. Ask the nymphs to prepare the Gate for me.”

Although Varys’ gaze needled his back, he didn’t bother blocking Ari’s exit at least. Slid away from it, in fact. “And what will you tell your court?”

Ari glared at the twin snakes on his left shoulder. “I have nothing to say to them until I’ve finished what I started.” Once he reached the Gate, he would ferry himself across the realms. If that monster wanted his visit, then he would have it. 

… 

… 

…

…

The midday sun captivated Zahn in its amber hue and sparkled like fairy lights across the horizon, the capital of Rimerock especially. Saltwater and ocean spray left a refreshing sea flavor in the air. As both a mineral city and vast trading port hub, Zahn’s nation thrived beside the great Solona Ocean. It was one of the most prosperous nations the mortal realm had to offer.

Yet neither trading ports nor the mountain peaks interested Ari. Instead, he stayed the course until he reached Zahn’s coastal edges, where the gap of water between Solona Ocean and the Blue Tides was tightest. Here, ships and creatures and scores of people had been aptly devoured, either to reappear in another region, or plane, entirely—or to never be heard from again. No mortal dared test the waters during a thunderstorm. 

Maybe this space of water had another name once. Now, it was known only as The Swallows.

Below the rocks, the rapids swirled and swirled to form a vicious, hungry whirlpool, one whose radius spanned as wide as a small village. The last time Ari visited, he’d been armed with a boat and first-timer’s bravado. He almost missed that naivety. Now he had a broken promise on one arm, and a time limit on the other. 

Light caught his periphery; the snake mark, brighter now as he stood at the water’s precipice, vibrated against Ari’s skin. When he retreated a few steps, the glow dimmed. Ari scowled at it before turning his gaze toward Rimerock again. Like newborn infants, the waves beside the docks cradled the boat’s tiny shapes. People were lucky to return intact at all, much less with their boat accompanying them. Surely no one could complain about a lost boat when they knew the risk they lived beside.

Ari took a single step toward the docks when a voice, coming distinctly from his left side, whispered at him. “Jump,” it said.

He froze. In spite of the region’s warm air, a chill accosted him from the top of his neck all the way down, tracing his spine. It was how he would have imagined Cameron’s claws raking his back if given the opportunity. 

More voices compounded upon the first, coupled with a mounting pressure in his cursed arm. Ari grit his teeth against the pain.

“Jump jump jump jump!” 

“Blessed child of the Fey.”

“Champion!” 

“Trust the process. Give yourself to the ocean, and it will guide you.” 

“Surrender!”

“Down down down!”

Hissing, Ari covered his ears. Had he finally lost it? The path he’d chosen specifically avoided any sirens’ games, but perhaps he had made a mistake. Sirens did not stray far from Cameron, because he loved them so, but not a single tail or melody carried over the waters. Now that the voices had quietened, only Ari in his silence remained, and the roaring whirlpool in front. That vortex could have easily wasted twenty ships alone. 

The water rolled closer, lapping the shoreline.

This was insane—he shouldn’t consider this. Not when it was undoubtedly another of Cameron’s tricks coaxing him to his demise. While the primordial released him initially, nowhere did that suggest he’d be as kind the next. So was this what Cameron wanted? For Ari to drown? Willingly? 

Ari squeezed his hands into fists, head inclined as he scorned The Swallows. His magic begged for release—spiked through him as a reminder not to forget what he possessed. Finally, Ari touched his throat and closed his eyes. 

Expand. 

His lungs ballooned with a thin layer of magical film, and three slices of the same pink glow cut across the sides of his neck. The first encounter with Cameron happened so hastily that Ari hadn’t enchanted an aquatic blessing unto himself before. Now, if circumstances necessitated he return home, the risk of drowning when he spoke was minimized. 

“Fine,” Ari said, the word a hiss between his teeth. “But I’ll make this your mistake.”

He plunged. 

When he resurfaced, arms akimbo and keeping him afloat, the current drew him toward the whirlpool. It was slow at first—taunting—until it yanked him. Ari’s heartbeat jumped like the waves. Why were the currents not taking him on a spin cycle? Rather, his body cut straight through, the single path available being the beeline toward The Swallows’ epicenter. And only a void greeted him at the end of that long, twisting cyclone. 

The voice returned in his right ear, deeper in its inflection this time—and steadier. Almost a tiger’s growl in his ear. “Closer.” 

It didn’t sound like how he remembered Cameron’s voice. What in the world was that? 

Once Ari reached the center, his body plummeted no differently than a ship torn apart by the waves. His yells became trapped in the bubbles flying from his mouth. The magical slits along his neck opened, extracting oxygen from the ocean and circulating it into his body. It was what allowed him to open his eyes sooner.  

Underwater, Mother Nature had dropped her bucket of paint to smear color that the surface’s sunlight could still capture. Except the color came not from an artisan’s tools, but scales. Fish—fish as far as the eye could see; eels, tuna, bass, mackerel, blue sharks. Yet none dared approach the cyclone containing him. He swore he saw a green light glint off of their scales too, but it could have been caused by his shoulder. The snake tattoo’s light had become so intense the farther he fell that it was the only light possible to see the fish. No natural sunlight could penetrate the depths of The Swallows. 

Had seconds passed? Minutes? Hours? His descent some several hundreds of feet below sea level pressed on, and eventually, the tendrils of light on Ari’s shoulder lost the fight against the ocean’s darkness. Even when he knew he’d thrust his hand outward, his fingers remained invisible to his eyes. It was only a matter of time before every bit of his senses faded.

However, Ari caught a sight in the distance: two green spots, electrified by the flecks of yellow in them. Split by those slit pupils. Watching, and waiting. Sharp white fangs hung underneath those eyes in a curved shape.

“Found you,” the familiar voice sang in his head just before his consciousness cut short. 

Ari had actually jumped. The audacious elven prince had actually done it. 

If a naga could be on the edge of their seat, Cameron had mastered the balancing act while his attentions were otherwise trained on Ari. He needed no mind-reading tricks to know Ari hated every bit of the decision—the prince’s frame had been riddled with tension and barely restrained frustration as he stood over Rimerock’s coast. In that state, he appeared so easy to ruffle—how could Cameron resist poking him? After all, what better game was there to play than the game of chicken? 

Yet life could still give Cameron surprises, apparently, as he’d watched the elven prince dive feet first into the waters. Cracking that stubborn self-respect Ari held impressed him enough to greet the elf personally. Not many held the honor. 

His uncoiled tail stretched on for miles as he moved through the scattered sands, making treasure ship bottles and coinstacks rattle. Trinkets he had collected over the centuries, dating every age of progress the cycles underwent. It was no palace like the pantheon, but it was his home—this little demiplane tucked in the corner of the mortal realm’s bounds. 

And now, as he bore down on Ari, the delight of finally putting eyes on him again simmered. Cameron tilted his head. “That’s a shame,” he murmured, eyeing Ari’s right arm. “Seems someone else got to you before I could, hmm?” 

Their time apart had created idle hands out of Ari, and during the absence, the elven prince had poked his nose where it did not belong. Old magic encased him, centralized in that blackened arm of his, and steadily tore through his essence. Cameron could taste it on the tip of his tongue—an acrid flavor, but all too familiar. Perhaps the prince assumed his half-divine blood would protect him, yet he failed to understand it only hastened the process.

Cameron had been so bored waiting for him, and when he finally returned, it was with a time limit on his life? Truly a travesty. At least the blessing he’d stamped onto Ari remained. He eyed it with a pleased hum.

Blessing of the trickster; that was what mortals called his snake tattoo when bound to him temporarily. The mark itself was fairly harmless, a way of saying Cameron had his eye on someone he liked well enough and had piqued his curiosity. It wouldn’t pain the wearer, and once Cameron stayed a permanent thought on their mind, he removed the mark and let nature take its course. If he wanted to become a god as well, belief in what he could give and accomplish was tantamount to his influence. He didn’t want to remain confined to Zahn alone. He wanted to travel the lands like the old days.

However, his blessing did come with a caveat. It was how Ari had found this new magic, but also where he had picked up his curse.

As his fingers encroached on the small figure, Ari immediately sprung to his feet like a jack-in-the-box. A bladed sickle appeared in the fey’s grasp and lanced forward. Cameron tutted, withdrawing and staring at fresh laceration where Ari had struck his fingers. 

“Straight to business as always, I see,” Cameron said. He pouted. “Really—after all this time, and not even a hello?” 

“What do you mean ‘someone else’ found me?” Ari demanded, keeping the blade level with Cameron. He backpedaled a few paces, glanced at the serpentine tail surrounding him, then slanted Cameron with an unamused glare. It must have been Ari’s default expression. “You won’t keep me here like the rest of your nymphs, Luck Devourer.” 

Cameron sighed and shook his head. The first words to come out of Ari’s mouth, and they were so vitriolic. Regardless, a smile curled on the corners of his lips. Ari had been silent as stone the first time they’d met, aside from when he’d cast his spell. He would take goading him to speak as an achievement. “You’ll come around.” 

Ari scoffed and jutted the scepter forward. “Talk. Or the next won’t let you staunch the bleeding.” 

Yes, Cameron thought; thanks to the time Ari had kept busy, he’d discovered some nasty tricks. Bleeding from a cut a mortal had inflicted had always been part of Cameron’s theatrics. It wouldn’t take long for him to wave his hand and dispel the wound with no blemish to find on his skin. That was the consequence of primordials, the gods had said—they made their first creations a little too powerful. 

Honestly? Cameron didn’t see the problem with it. What was the harm in having regenerative capabilities? They were a piece of the gods and titans that helped create them. Of course they should be entitled to that influence. And mortal beings only sought to attain the same power. Ironic, wasn’t it? If nothing else connected primordials and mortals, the color of their blood did—dark, red and vivid. 

This magic wasn’t nearly as humorous as Ari smiting him, but no matter. 

He turned his hand and fingers over, letting the trickle caress his arm too. Once enough time had passed, Cameron reversed the blood, sucking it back into the wound and closing the cut on his finger. When he turned back to Ari, his pupils thinned. Sweat had accumulated on Ari’s face, and though he tried to conceal it, his shoulders bobbed. He was panting. 

Cameron dropped his elbows on either side of the man and balanced his chin on his interlaced fingertips. “I can ease the burden you bear, you know. All you have to do is ask.”

“You mean the burden you put on me?” Ari rolled his shoulder, the one containing Cameron’s snakes, to better face him. “Don’t bother. I’ll do that myself when I cut out your lying tongue.” 

Cameron laughed. “I thought you were supposed to be the expert, love? All that research and you don’t know the difference between my mark and another’s?”

“Please. Spare me your lies, Luck Devourer. You leave this on my arm—” Ari tossed his hand toward his left shoulder “—and suddenly I’m magically cursed three and a half weeks later. I’m just supposed to believe that’s all a coincidence?” 

The elven man had wit, he would concede that. Most wouldn’t have drawn that conclusion. But he wasn’t wrong so much as he wasn’t right either. 

Cameron’s lips curled. Dropping one of his hands from his chin, he crept his fingers toward Ari. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed, however, as Ari sidestepped his hand, blade trained and poised to inflict another bite. 

“Do you think finding that research was coincidence too?” Cameron asked. “Equivalent exchange, my friend. Fate needs balance at some point, because the worst life can change for the better, while the opposite is true. The same applies for luck. Eventually you’ll run out of good luck, and all that’s left is the worst of it. Do you know that that is?” His voice fell to a whisper. “Karma.” 

Ari’s eyes widened and Cameron regarded him impassively. Karma was under Cameron’s eldest brother’s control, and no one wanted to gain Rayne’s ire—not even Cameron himself. A bitter reminder of how many leagues apart they were now that Rayne had ascended to control the storms and left behind his own kin, changing from primordial to the god of retribution. Cameron hated him for the loneliness it had brought. 

But perhaps the one memento Rayne had left had been the magical stopgap, preventing any divine beings from destroying primordials. Few gods wanted to reignite the Divisionary War—none such who hadn’t already been exiled, stripped of power, or banished to the outer realms.

Cameron had never been much invested in the war, finding it more fun to collect warriors, clerics, and warlocks who wished for something, or someone, to grant them powers. To take matters into their own hands and change. Was it really his fault if change meant both good and bad deeds? 

So, all of the gods had banded together to create a failsafe, one that would come at a cost. That was the exchange to end the war, and what led to Rayne’s ascension to begin with. The knowledge to kill a god’s essence was out there, but it was a race to the goalpost to reach it in time. 

And now Ari was cursed by that knowledge. All this because he couldn’t bother to visit sooner. If he’d stuck to simply smiting him, his good luck wouldn’t have soured nearly as quickly. 

Again, Cameron’s hand neared Ari, undeterred by the elf’s retreating footsteps. It wasn’t like he had very far to move—not with Cameron’s tail looped around the space. “It’s not my magic that’s eating away at you, little wanderer. As long as you carry that curse, you can’t even begin to make good on your promise,” Cameron said and smiled. “Unless you’ve given up trying to keep me out of the mortal planes? I surely hope not. You were just getting somewhere!” 

Ari clutched his head. “Stop talking.” 

Yet Cameron saw the thoughts churning behind Ari’s eyes in the way he stared at the ground. Risk. Each mortal, and demimortal, Cameron had crossed underwent the same weighing process. Were all of his words a lie? Or was there truth in them? Underestimating either side by even a hair could dramatically tip the scale. It made the tip of Cameron’s tail wiggle.

“My offer still stands,” Cameron added patiently. “Do so, and the curse won’t trouble you any longer.”

“And make it that much easier for you to put another one of your things on me like the last time?” Ari spat. “I’m not your fool to toy with, Cameron, and I’m not giving you another opportunity.” His hand glowed pink. “I’ll—”

All at once, Ari’s body seized up. The man dropped onto his knees, but despite his collapse, his black fist remained clutched on the handle of his scepter. Humming, Cameron leaned forward, close enough where his breath could tease strands of Ari’s brown hair. The sleeve covered a significant portion of Ari’s arm, but he noticed the nerves beneath the silk convulsed. It gave off the smell of soot and tar, markedly divine and twisted. 

For good measure, Ari took a swipe at Cameron, yet the blade did not connect. The one thing Cameron would not allow him to touch was his face. 

“You may have found the secret to wound me, but you’ll cut your own life short before you cut me,” Cameron said. “Why do you think you’ve been cursed? You could kill me, but you’re discovering it’s not so easy, aren’t you?”

“I’d rather die than accept your so-called ‘help.’”

“And yet you came to me, willingly, and chose this path for yourself! Make no mistake—I’m flattered, truly. But you didn’t have better things to do than put me on trial? That really hurts my feelings, you know. I’ve been minding my business.”

Ari growled quietly, and the sound of it made Cameron chuckle. The longer this went on, the greater his intrigue. Some of Ari’s peers were equally mouthy, but they’d crumbled faster under his ministrations. Ari, however, was stubborn. He might actually have let himself perish instead if it meant taking Cameron down with him.

Placing a claw-tipped finger against Ari’s blade, Cameron restricted him from lifting it a third time. He felt the blade twitch and wiggle under his nail from Ari’s effort to free it, then heard the slow-building sizzle the longer his nail touched. 

“Is your pride worth more than your life, Fey champion?” he asked softly, enough so that it made Ari’s ears twitch. He upturned his other hand’s palm to Ari and leaned over him. “Do you want it to end here and now when you’ve been the closest one of your circle?” Ari stared at him, and although he glared, shock belied those fiery pink eyes of his. Cameron tilted his head. “Did you think I didn’t know who you were, prince? I study all of my guests. The interesting ones anyway,” he added.

“Your tricks—”

“I speak only the truth this time.” The space around them shrunk bit by bit as Cameron added more coils to wrap around them. The shhff of sand carried across his entrance room. “I know my brother’s magic, well enough to know how to undo it too. Do you really wish to die with failure in your heart? That doesn’t seem befitting of the summer elves’ prince, wouldn’t you say?”

Those rose quartz eyes of Ari’s stayed locked on Cameron’s hand, distrustful and scathing. The only sound permeating the room then became that of sliding glass. Cameron’s zoetrope had shifted to display yet another realm of the fey. That didn’t matter now—he had the fey he’d been watching here with him now. No need to see Ari through a glass any longer. 

The tip of Cameron’s tail wiggled again when Ari reached his hand out, hesitated, then connected with one of the large fingers before him. His expression spoke nothing short of frustrated. Giving no room for second thoughts, Cameron slid his fingers underneath Ari’s body and into his palm, where he held him to his eyes. 

“A wise choice, love. Now let’s get this curse off, shall we? You’ll be untouched…mostly.”

“Don’t call me that,” Ari snapped. His gaze was transfixed by the dark wisps rising from out of his sleeve and into the air, coated in a green layer of mist that matched Cameron’s eyes. His heavy breaths slowed. “What do you mean ‘mostly’?”

“There’s more than just Rayne’s magic in this, I’m afraid! Such a thing happens when the whole of the pantheon wants to show off their skills.” Cameron hummed. “You’ll have to figure out the rest on your own. But at least you won’t die, so what’s there to sulk about?” He gingerly traced his nail against Ari’s head, stopping at his chin and tilting it to meet his gaze. “And I get to see more of this pretty face.” 

Although Ari shoved his finger away, the faintest hint of red stained his cheeks. “This doesn’t change anything else—know that.” 

Maybe not now, Cameron thought. But luck and fortune's favor were his specialties. 

[entomolog-t]

Stupid lowscale gt brainrot but like--

You know the "stranded on a planet with sexy 8ft-10ft tall alien men" monster "romance" trope???

Give me a story just like this but like humans are smaller because of higher gravity. Its nothing so severe that anything super off is noticeable at first. Similar body types, perhaps even the alien species is much more physically intimidating looking (especially if we're going to the ye old hunter gatherer/barbarian trope), maybe they notice that they feel really good on this planet, perhaps even they make the connection that they can jump a fair amount higher. To them its nothing crazy. Going from a 2ft vertical to a 4-5ft vertical is cool, but its nothing like the videos of walking on the moon.

The aliens however, notice something is off fairly quickly. With a language barrier there might be the need to physically pull someone out of harms way, try to direct them one way or the other etc... and humans?? Despite their size, they're *heavy.* Not as heavy as the aliens, but far too close for someone half their size. Watching the humans aid them in tasks is surprising, and they're quite impressively able to carry a fair amount.

Perhaps it takes a while for the humans to notice, and it comes as a shock. Be it something perhaps cute like playfighting, or something more severe like an actual physical altercation, it becomes apparent that the humans are leagues stronger than the aliens.

Some Local coffeshop employee Becky Smith of middle of nowhere USA is suddenly able to lift the equivalent of 800lbs and is now seen as some warrior class being and is just trying to live out her monster romance fantasy. Girly was looking for a fearsome warrior and somehow became it instead.

This is so silly and stupid but I love it and would PAY to read it.

[that-one-anime-writer]

What’s so special about G/T Romantic Interactions?

Well-

Imagine a hug. Being hugged by the person you love the most. You’d die for this person- you’d protect them no matter what. And they’d protect you. Point is- they love you and you love them.

Take that feeling you get when you hug them. That warm feeling like no one could ever ruin the moment. Like you’re floating- and nothing could ever bring you down. Like your surrounded by a forcefield that nothing can break through. Take that feeling- and enlarge it.

Multiply it by 1000000.

That’s what the idea of being kissed, hugged, held, protected, by someone 10x bigger than you feels like to me. When I dream of being in a giants pocket- surrounded by them- I feel I’m surrounded by love. Like diving into a pool that consists of only warmth and sensual feelings.

I know some may feel different- but that’s my general perspective. I always am the tiny when I find ppl that I like because I want to be “surrounded” by them- their warmth, their love, their voice. Everything. I want my world to be- them. That’s all.

Man- giants rock.

[cathartes-aura-shitposting]

do you guys think giant or tinies would make "peace cries" to let others know they're there like the woman in Flatland do?

i thought this as a sort of joke but actually thought about it.

basic tldr: Flatland is a novella about life in a 2d space where a square one day encounters a sphere from spaceland (3rd dimension). if you want to know more, there's a video that does a great deep dive into it.

anwyas, in Flatland, the women are "lines" (technically really, really thin rectangles) so thin they're both near-invisible and can actually slice someone in half. so, by law, they're required to make a "peace cry" (literally just shrieking really loudly, but could by any loud shouting/screaming) to make others aware of their presence.

anyways, it got me thinking; in a world were beings of greatly varying sizes coexist, would such "peace cries" exist?

with the tinies i totally see it; sure it's opposite to the women in flatland, but it make the giants aware of their presence and thus can save the tinies' life.

but for a giant...i could see it too in specific circumstances; especially in cases where the actual noises of them moving about is hard to hear, or indistinguishable from other surrounding sounds.

idk, i just imagine a tiny like a borrower or fairy just running around screaming; not because they're scared or anything, but because they want you to know they're there.

[yearningaces]

I just wanna be held by a giant. Big, burly, rough and tumble giant that would hold me over their heart like one would hold a cat. Just me looking up at them and them looking down at me with that uneven perfect smile.

Is it too much to ask?!

This was the ask that had me losing my mind enough that I actually wrote a story for the first time in a while

And then they added this to my inbox:

"Imagine feeling and hearing the reverberations of the giant's pleased growl as you smother them in soft kisses and place one over their heart. How they would melt into your tiny hands, while their own enormous, seemingly invincible palms hold you so safe. How soundly you'd be lulled into sleep by raise and fall of their chest as lay on them."

So of course I had to give it my best and let the wholesome giant consume my thoughts

~

'It's dark, and it's thundering.' Your first thoughts upon waking in the middle of the night, having slept so deeply that you seemingly forgot your placement in this world.

Only after you tried wiggling around did you realize that your sleeping spot isn't warm because of you, it's warming you. And it's not so dark, you're simply covered under a gentle and relaxed hand. It's not storming outside, the thunderous drum underneath where you lay is where the noise is coming from. A massive heartbeat, one beating faster now as if its charge had just woken.

You take a moment to rub the sleep from your eyes, letting out a noise when the giants fingers gently curl under your laying form, raising you up just high enough he can look up at you easily from his spot in the massive bed.

Ofius is the picture of enamored. The scruffy giant gazing up so smitten with your tiny self. "Y'r awake?" His voice is as soft as the low and baritone rumble can be this late into the night, sounding pleased at the chance of late night closeness. He does sound half asleep and without any filter; meaning he can simply hold you and look at you. Appreciating the sight of you so sleepy this late into the night, a sight that only he is allowed. "Why awake, bad dream? I gotta break someone in half?" His low voice turns into a slight growl at the idea of something upsetting you. "... 'll do it. Stomp on anyone stupid enough to-"

"Ofius, honey, I'm alright." Your voice soothed the giants sudden protectiveness, easing his concern into a soft care once more as he watches you with a sleepy, crooked smile.

"I don't know why I'm up though," You call out to him, relaxed in his grip, held directly over his charmed gaze, having learned over the years that Ofius would never let you fall. "-Just woke up I suppose."

The giant shifts slightly, leaning more upright against the headboard he'd carved out by hand. After situating himself, he lowers you closer, pressing you to the soft, warm skin of his cheek with an affectionate rumble. Ofius' eyes fall closed as he so carefully holds you close, cautious and affectionate in his nuzzling against you. "Good. Then you spend time with me before sleep returns." Ofius' voice is a heavy rumbled accent you can never place- often pared with the language only the giants speak. "Want to enjoy you."

You can feel his crooked nose bump against your side lightly as his affectionate sounds and actions continue. And what can you do other than lean into the affection, the indention where the side of his nose ends and his cheek begins has always been a perfect spot to lay against. And it provides you the perfect opportunity to press many little kisses against his face, much to the giants delight.

"Little love is wanting affection?" His tone could almost be called a soft coo if Ofius wasn't so burly and bearish in nature and tone. His dark hair almost always wild, his darker eyes capable of containing such malevolence, yet only ever looking to you with nothing short of reverence. The sturdy giant would have been quite a powerhouse to be wary of even if he was your size.

But as he stands, he's as tall as the trees, and being as he is- he has so much more love to give.

After a moment of pondering, you finally respond to his remark, "I always want your affection." You can only relax and grin, feeling his fingers tense and untense repeatedly, the clear sign he's wanting to squeeze you close and adore you, but doesn't risk harming you. Instead- one hand so carefully presses against your back, fingers gently stroking along your spine as the other hand clutches onto the pillow beside him, needing to squeeze something close. Ofius breath is just ragged enough for you to recognize him as spiralling into his adorations for you.

"My little love-" it takes no effort for him to easily pluck you into his palm and shift so he's laying on his stomach with you held in his hands, under his looming face. "-My little human. I hold you in my hands, yet I want you closer. I sew pockets over my heart on all of my shirts for you to rest safely, but it is not close enough." He leans down carefully, so very carefully, pressing a giant kiss to your entire toreso with a deep resounding rumble from his chest before pulling back just slightly. "I wonder, are you tiny enough to fit in my own heart? I would happily build a way to ensure your comfort."

Meanwhile you can only be seen as the cat who caught the canary because here this massive giant is, big, and burly, and powerful, and so adoring, he's practically obsessed. And there you lay in his hands, not even trying. "I don't know if you want me in your heart, Ofius. You wouldn't get any more kisses if I was there instead of right here.

Ofius for all of his prowess seems to hesitate as if such a fate is a horrible thought indeed. "... Then stay in my grasp and kiss me." His eyes are unwavering as he watches you before showing some hesitation and remembering his manners. "...Please?"

With a tilt of your head you consider your giant partner, turning slightly to press a kiss to his finger too that's supporting your shoulder.

You feel your giant tremble at the gesture, his face lowering to be closer to yours.

It's easy to lean up and press another kiss against his nose, his cheeks, under his eyes, against his forehead, against the corners of his mouth.

Ofius closes his eyes, leaning closer and closer to you, his hands tensing and untensing under you before he lifts you quickly once again, dropping onto his back in the soft bed and pressing you over his heart on his soft, warm chest. Back to where you first woke.

You can feel his heart hammering and out of an overwhelming affection, press a kiss to the skin just over the thunderous beating before curling up against that spot once more.

Ofius heart stutters in its beating before racing once more- something that has you smiling.

Eventually, the racing heart slows into a deep relaxed and content rhythm. Ofius is home in bed and safe to rest. His most beloved is within his grasp, protected and kept safe to rest as well. He could never ask for more than this moment right now. A giant finger gingerly stroking your back, looking down at you with such adoration, watching you rise and fall with his deep breaths from where you lay on his chest, knowing the action will lull you to sleep as it always does. "My little love. 'm glad you're happy here. 'm glad I was the one to find you that day. 'm glad you've not worried of your past home. You're gonna be safe here, always."

Ofius hand settles over you, keeping you warm amidst the frozen mountain sky just outside of the hand built cabin. Ofius will see to your comfort and happiness. He has since he first found you stranded in these lands. And he will continue to do so until his very heart gives out, maybe even longer.

He will.

[evieismol]

Chapter One: Earth

Easton's POV

Content warnings for this chapter: mentions of anxiety, mentions of hurting humans (doesn't happen)

So this was Earth. 

I had known things would be smaller on the distant blue and green planet, but as I stared down at the assortment of vehicles and people in front of me, it hit me that knowing and experiencing were two very different things. It wasn't like I hadn't seen humans - or human sized things before - but I'd always seen them on Aphiria. Where they were comparatively tiny to everything around them. As I took in the trees that didn't quite reach up to my ankles, it hit me that I was now the one that was mis-sized for my surroundings. My stomach turned at the realization of just how big I was compared to my surroundings.

The familiar, sharp edge of anxiety began to slice at my brain once more. It would be so easy to accidentally break something. Or hurt someone. 

Or worse. 

I'd thought I was used to those fears after spending a not insignificant time around humans on Aphiria. Now, though, they felt like they'd doubled. Or maybe tripled. 

“Mr. Parks! Welcome to Earth,” A soft voice from below pulled me from my rapidly spiralling thoughts. I focused on the source of the voice. A neatly groomed man, probably in his thirties, in an equally neatly pressed suit, stood on top of a tank below. I briefly wondered if I should read into the apparent militarization of the group in front of me, before deciding that was best left to consider at another time. 

“Uh, thank you. It's good to be here. And Easton's fine.” I said, making a conscious effort to speak softly. I hoped it was softly enough. The humans didn't flinch, so I took that as a good sign. 

“Easton, then. I'm John O'Riley, the IMA agent assigned to work with you. And likewise, John is fine.” John seemed fully comfortable and confident as he spoke, despite having to crane his neck up to look at me. I'd been told on Aphiria about the IMA - the Interdimensional Management Agency. They apparently oversaw and handled all matters relating to non human issues on Earth, not just interdimensional ones. It had been mentioned that I'd be working with an agent. Though “working with” was maybe the wrong term, since the impression I'd gotten was more that said agent would be supervising and managing me. 

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” I said politely. “And an honor to be here.” 

“Well, we're happy to have you.” John replied. Based on the nervous looks from the men surrounding him, I wasn't sure if that sentiment was shared. It was, for lack of a more elegant term, really weird to be the source of unease for what looked like a group of highly trained soldiers. Last name aside, I didn’t cut a particularly imposing figure back on Aphiria. I was a bit on the short side and far less outgoing than I would have liked, and combined, that meant that for the majority of my life, I had been the one being intimidated. Not being intimidating. I was anything but short compared to humans, of course, which I’d quickly learned upon first meeting the group of them I’d found stranded on Aphiria some time ago. Even still, being intimidating to a stranded group of then strangers and being intimidating to what looked like a very well prepared military were two different things. 

I wondered, not for the first time, if agreeing to work on Earth as part of a “diplomatic endeavor” was really a good idea. It was so much responsibility. Way more than even being a park ranger back home had been, which had already felt like a lot of responsibility. 

My sister really can talk anyone into anything, I thought. 

“So, I'm guessing you've noticed the entourage,” John said, gesturing to the men surrounding him. “It's just standard IMA policy to take precautions, not that we think there'll be any issues. I was told you were briefed on the ground rules put in place as part of this agreement?” 

He paused, waiting for my response. I nodded. “Yes, of course.” 

Said ground rules included things like absolutely no picking up humans, animals, or property without explicit permission. As well as some understandable but also anxiety inducing clauses like what would happen if I were to hurt any humans, accidental or otherwise. It would void the agreement, of course, which wasn't the anxiety inducing part. No, that was just the idea of accidentally hurting a human. An idea that felt way too possible looking down at the miniature army. 

I should have taken a second dose of anxiety medication, I thought, swallowing nervously. 

“Great! Great. So, there's a temporary IMA outpost nearby. We were thinking you could follow us there, and then we could go over more of what to expect for your job, including timeline, accomodations, and so on. For safety reasons, we'd prefer if you kept a decent distance behind our little group when walking. I'll let you know when to start following us, how does that sound?” 

I nodded quickly. “That sounds good to me.”  

John smiled again. He seemed entirely unphased by the fact that I was dozens of times his size, and I found it a little ironic that I seemed to be more anxious than him. Then again, he worked for The IMA, and from my understanding, their agency dealt with all manner of non human beings. So maybe he was just used to it. 

I, on the other hand, felt entirely out of my depth as I watched the group turn around and begin to move. 

“Alright, you can start following us! Just keep about this distance!” John called. 

Well, too late to change my mind now.

Next

[bonkalore]

A commission I technically got myself for my bday again by the magnificent crowzen!! (Here's the other awesome set they did for me before!) Definitely fit more into the cozy fall vibes tho so I didn't mind sharing a bit later.

Love this series of pics and they always do so well with them and are great to work with! <3 Super grateful for this cute spread!

I kind of just had it as a continuation off of another older comic I did where Lucy comes over and gives Jayce a shave and hangs out for the evening~

[st4rsinthenight]

★ insert a sigh here, all I want is to be scooped up in a giant's palm and be pressed against against their face. Oh to be gently nuzzled against their cheek as I sit in their hand. Is that too much to ask. Is that too much to —★