#gtauthors

[racheyace]

I know I'm spamming you guys this week I'm sorry!

I just wanted to share that I gave my mum my "Strawberries and Sprites" short story for her birthday. She always appreciates something personal and has supported me in my writing since I was a child. I have not told anyone in my family that I'm a G/t author and still haven't but sharing that story feels like a good first step to slowly introducing the idea.

Anyway! She called me tonight to let me know she'd read it and said she really enjoyed the story and felt like I'd grown alot as a writer. She gave me some great feedback, didn't mention anything about the size difference aspect of the story, but I feel like it was a win!

Just thought it was worth putting here for any others who are just as nervous about sharing their gt interests with their loved ones. I do believe it is possible, I am attempting to very slowly, but I also feel it's a huge part of who I am and I want those I love to know about it.

Ramble over! I'll talk to you all again tomorrow when I've posted the winning story in the polls!

Goodnight!

[racheyace]

The fluff! My heart didn't know it needed that right now! So cute and I'm so interested in reading more about these characters!

Little Pinebed: Trouble Sleeping

Sam quietly approached the closed door to Isaac's room. He sat down and crossed his legs. Leaning back against to door, he closed his eyes and focused. He imagined a hand larger than his body reaching down towards him. He imagined it scooping him up, fingers curling around him as he's gently held in a warm embrace.

      He knew he had successfully shrunk when he only felt his shoulders touching the door. He got on his belly and crawled through the gap under the door. A single light illuminated the room, which came from the laptop sitting on Isaac's desk, partially blocked by the looming silhouette of its owner. Looks like he's still studying. Sam concluded. Does he ever sleep?

     Sam began the trek towards his friend. He knew it would take a bit to reach Isaac at his ‘tiny height’ of eight centimeters tall, but it would allow him to reach his friend without being noticed and interrupting his class. As he got closer, he noticed how the light illuminated his face and made his dyed, red hair stand out like a glowing beacon in the darkness of the room.

      Halfway into the room Sam tripped, his body hitting the ground with a quiet thump. He quickly looked up, hoping the yelp that he made in surprise wasn't loud enough for his giant friend to notice. After a few, tense moments with no response, he stood up. Looking behind, he barely made out the vine that snaked down from a plant pot sitting against the wall. Isaac really needs to trim his plants.

     The rest of the trek went rather smoothly, and Sam was able to make it to Isaac's desk without being spotted. The L-shaped desk was positioned in the corner of the room. Sam followed the wall to the right until he reached the built-in ladder made out of half-punched staples between the wall and desk. The climb up was both shorter and easier than the walk there. Soon as he reached the top Sam ducked behind a stack of botany textbooks that usually sat on this side of the desk. Peeking out gave him a better view of the giant.

     Isaac leaned on his hand, hunched over his laptop. The light coming from the screen that illuminated his face was partially reflected in his glasses in a way that reminded Sam of a projector from his old school back when he was a kid. He could see the giant was looking at from this angle. A diagram of two plants Sam couldn't recognize. It pictured cutting off the tops of the plants and matching one plant's top with the other. The title read “Grafting and You: Getting the best of both plants.” Isaac scrolled down, showing a new picture of the plant fully grown, with what looked like a tomato plant above, with potatoes under the soil. Sam didn't know how much time had passed since he got to the top, but if he remembered the numbers right he must have been reading along for like… ten pages? It was enough for him to realize how cold he had gotten.

     At his small size, Sam got cold really easily. Even Will, who was naturally tiny, was surprised with how poorly Sam retained heat. I must have been cold for a while then… I hate how I can't notice I'm freezing to death half the time. He stood up, and waited for Isaac to turn to the left and reach for his drink. Sam knew he couldn't jump straight into the giant's hood, Isaac would feel him and they'd be caught, so they aimed for the back of his chair when they leaped, smacking into it with a quiet thump. Gripping the sides, Sam's body went rigid as he waited to see if Isaac had noticed. They made the mistake of looking down, remembering the fall they had when they first met Will, and the two swapped sizes. Sam had fallen off the kitchen counter then, leaving his whole back bruised for a few painful days. This was at least a foot higher than that drop.

     Hearing the music leaking through the giant's headphones, along with the distinct lack of a giant grabby hand, Sam crawled into their friend's hood. He was immediately met with  a pleasant warmth as he slid into the bottom of the pouch. He leaned into the source of the heat, the shape of the hood enabling him to curl up against the wall of fabric. This is Isaac's back… It was only a couple weeks since he first met Will, and discovered he could trade sizes with tiny people, and shrink himself to a specific size. He could still find wonder in how vast everyday objects could feel when he shifted. I mean, he fit in his friend's hoodie for crying out loud! It felt so strange, so magical, so right. He had never felt more himself than when he could fit in a person's hand. This feeling was only compounded with the fact that Will perfectly mirrored him in that way, being a tiny person who wanted to be ‘human-sized.’

     Sam gently swayed as the giant continued his study. Occasionally leaning into the chair, gently squishing Sam into his back. Tiny people were surprisingly durable in that way. It was difficult to hurt someone without actively trying, which made what Sam was doing only mildly risky. He could still get hurt if Isaac happened to move too quickly, or put too much weight on the little guy he didn't know was in his hood. Thinking on it, it was pretty risky. I'm too comfy now, though. Sam thought. What seemed like an hour passed until Sam felt a considerable amount of movement, and a booming voice sounded out.

     “Alright. I think that's enough for tonight.” Isaac declared before letting out a groan that sounded like a deep rumble to the tiny in his hood. Sam could make out giant's arms above him through the top of the hood as Isaac stretched, the simple action lifting him a few inches, along with the hood. They began to sway as Isaac made his way to his bed, almost collapsing onto it before Sam could react. They were thrown back before a heavy weight fell onto his chest and pinned him to the mattress. He gave out a loud yelp of pain in response.

    “Shit!” Isaac bolted upright, unknowingly tossing Sam around in his hood. Turning back, he didn't see anyone on the bed. “Sam? Will?” Sam could hear the urgency in his voice as Isaac quietly called out. “Where are you? Are you alright?”

“I'm in your hood.” Sam managed to call out. They felt the world shake again, along with the sound of a ziiip, as the giant slowly removed his hoodie and turned it around. Sam felt the hand before he saw it, as he's gently lifted out and brought to a billboard-sized face.

     “Are you alright?” Sam could feel the concern they saw on Isaac's face in that moment. They nodded, watching Isaac's face soften as he let out a large sigh of relief. “That's good, that's good." Isaac was still concerned. "I am so, so sorry I didn't notice you.”

Isaac dropped his hoodie off the side of his bed and laid down. He placed the tiny on his chest, and gently rested his hand on them. Sam immediately curled up, pressing his back against their friend's curled up fingers. It was silent for a few moments, and Sam was left listening to the ambient sound's that came from Isaac, that only the tiny friend on his chest could hear in the moment. He focused on the rhythmic beating of his heart, but also made out the gentle breathing that came from above him. The near-silence was eventually broken with a question.

     “Trouble sleeping?” Sam looked up towards Isaac's face, and nodded. “You could've asked me,” Isaac responded, “I would have let you sleep here.” His tone wasn't accusatory, but Sam looked away shyly and muttered, “Didn't want to bother you…” they braced for it, knowing how Isaac would respond.

“Sam,” They still winced. “You could never bother me.” Isaac's tone was a little more direct, but his gaze quickly softened as he continued, “You're family to me. You know that, right? I care about you, Sam.”  Sam nodded, and couldn't help but smile as well. “We're both tired, so we can talk about this more tomorrow if you'd like.” Sam nodded. “Goodnight, Sam.”

     The next morning, Sam found himself in a tangle of limbs. He opened his eyes to a familiar black hoodie, and glanced up at Will's sleeping face. They must have had trouble sleeping as well. Their arms were wrapped around Sam's chest, while both of their legs were tangled together. I don't know how I forget how clingy they are… Sam looked towards Isaac's face, and saw he was looking to the side, angling his phone away from the two tiny folk laying on his chest. Isaac glanced in his direction, and said a quiet “Good morning!” he smiled, causing Sam to do the same. “You two are really tangled,” He laughed under his breath. “Want me to wake them up for you?” Sam shook his head “No, thanks.”

     “Is that a no because you're good, or because you don't want to bother them?” …Sam looked away. Isaac seemed to think for a moment. “Alright. I gotta get up in an hour for work anyway, so you don't have to decide if you don't want to.” That was one of the things Sam liked that about Isaac. He doesn't force Sam to speak, or make a decision if they were having trouble, and was endlessly patient with them. Sam reached out to hug Will, who seemed to squeeze Sam a little tighter than before. Sam winced at the sudden pressure on his aching ribs, but the pain subsided as he pressed his head into their chest.

“Isaac…” Sam muttered, “I can't get back to sleep. Could you-” He already felt Isaac's thumb as it begin to gently rub his back. Sam was asleep the moment he closed his eyes, a smile on his face.

[belethlegwen]

A giant who smokes a wooden pipe. The pipe is made from an old sailing ship, and the bowl is adorned with/made out of the ship's old figurehead/masthead.

[witcherfan]

A gt book called 

[racheyace]

I literally screamed when I got home from work today to find this treasure waiting for me! I was so honoured to be an ARC reader for this book! I've been following these two amazing authors for probably 10 years and I'm just so proud of them! Everything they've written is incredible!

Also just beaming that I was able to get a signed copy! The only book on my shelf that is signed by an author! I feel very privileged and just my heart won't stop!

Thank you @marydublinauthor and @bittykimmy13! I'm running myself a bath as we speak preparing to read through this again! I certainly am in my stabby fairy era!

[witcherfan]

Yahoo !! I love your idea for a cover !! I am glad it is finally happening !!

“You deserve to be happy wherever you chose to be…. I just thought that would be with me”

&

“You can have me too. I’ll be yours”

I cannot wait to read this part in the published version of Valour, or whatever revised scene this ends up being. It completely sends my heart

CRYYY thank you so much lovely!! That means so much 🥺🫶🏻

We are really hoping to publish later this year or next! For marketing purposes I’ll be using a different pen name from Mary Dublin but it’s HAPPENING.

Was brainstorming cover ideas just this morning 💘👀📖 @smol-smoggie

[belethlegwen]

The Rescue - Chp 58 - The Shifting Dynamic || The Stranding - Chp 76 - Just Trying To Come Clean

Happy New Year everyone!!

Got a lovely double feature to rock out the year with, I hope you enjoy!

See you all in 2025!

[racheyace]

The Best Medicine - Part One

This two part story is based off of an ask, the ask part of the story however comes in part two haha

This story is set directly after the events of 'What's Wrong With you?'

“So where are we going?” Luke asked for the tenth time that day.

It had been a week since Luke and Jason had broken up. It had been a long and rough week with more than one mental health day off work and Matt simply couldn’t stand the moping anymore. Deciding that his best mate needed some fresh air and sunshine and more importantly to get his ass off the couch. Matt had organised a weekend camping trip for the two of them.

“Will you quit asking me, what are you Five? I told you it was a surprise, didn’t I?” Matt rolled his eyes and pressed his foot down on the accelerator in impatience.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go anywhere overly public in my current mental state.” Luke mumbled fidgeting with the cords of his navy hoodie.

In the last week it had been difficult to control his emotions, generally shrinking without warning and finding it difficult to shift back for long periods, hence the time off work.

“We are going somewhere secluded and people free I promise, now quit bitching and navigate to the nearest gas station, I forgot to fill up before we left.” He knew where the gas station was but honestly just wanted to give Luke something to do.

They pulled up a short ten minutes later and Matt got out to start filling the car up.

“Do you wanna go in and pay and maybe find us some snacks, we’re still about an hour away.” Matt asked offhandedly.

Luke rolled his eyes. “You gonna give me your card to pay or am I expected to fund this long road trip that I didn’t ask for?”

Matt just smirked already knowing that Luke would cave.

“Fine!” Luke grumbled and pushed the car door open to stomp toward the service station.

Luke was such a pushover and Matt knew it.

The automatic doors opened, and Luke headed for the snack aisle, he gave the cashier a small nod as he passed by. He browsed the small selection of choices, but something popped out at him that made him freeze and he felt his heart being squeezed.

On a display stand to the side was a collection of Reese’s peanut butter cups, a bright sign telling the consumer that this product was to die for and on sale, the best deal, two for one!

Luke was frozen, watching the scenes flash through his minds eye of all the times he’d surprised Jason by gifting him this particular treat. Peanut butter cups were his favourite and often on sale like this. Luke would get two and they would sit up late watching movies, eating their favourite snacks.

Luke closed his eyes and took a deep breath, nothing worked, his eyes stung and his heart hurt.

Luke had known all of Jay’s quirks, his likes and dislikes to the point where he had at one time kept a stash of peanut butter cups in the apartment for the off chance that Jason would come over.

And now he was gone.

Luke wiped at the tears forming on his cheeks aggressively and opened his eyes.

“No no no.” Where he had once been looking over the tops of the shelves he was now looking at the bottom shelf and still shrinking.

“Stupid fucking emotions!” He glared up at the Reeses peanut butter cup stand before his attention snapped to the sliding door opening.

It was possible that it was Matt coming in to see what was taking him so long but it was also possible that it was someone else entering the store, without a second to lose Luke dived under the shelf that now towered over his head.

His breath came in sharp pants as he eyed the gigantic set of heavy leather boots thundering into the store, they weren’t Matt’s and his brain began to go into full panic mode as they angled toward him. He watched with wide blue eyes as the boot only a few inches now in front of him tapped idly on the tiled floor, sending tremors through his body.

It wasn’t the first time Luke had shrunk in an unsafe place but it had certainly been a while, these days he would usually have a family member or Matt with him and even when he didn’t he had his phone.

His phone!

Luke searched his pockets finding only his wallet, he’d left the damned device in the car. His heart hammered against his chest, he was stranded in an unknown place surrounded by giants who had no idea he was there. There wasn’t much more that could possibly go wrong.

There was some loud crinkling from high above and Luke held his breath as a small canister of pringles hit the floor with a deafening crash and then ominously began to roll toward him. Putting his arms out he stopped the canister from rolling any further, luckily pringles were light or he might have been flattened if it had been something like a bottle of milk.

Anyone else might have just rolled their eyes at their own clumsiness and picked up a different canister of pringles, but for whatever reason Luke’s luck just continued to dwindle. There was a rush of movement and the sound of immense amounts of clothing shifting as the unknown giant crouched down and then a large hand was hurtling at him.

With all the effort in the world Luke held his breath to stop himself from crying out in alarm, and instead ducked behind the pringles and hoped the fingers wouldn’t pry any further once they’d found what they were looking for. Luke’s eyes widened as the large digits spread over the top of the canister and very nearly brushed his head before they gripped the pringles tighter and pulled them back out into the light.

Luke fell to his knees and watched with relief as the giant stood back up and moved away from his hiding spot. Now to somehow get Matt’s attention, he’d have to come into the store at some point, it would only be a matter of time and then he’d be found and he’d be safe again.

Matt meanwhile had decided to have a smoke while he waited for his friend to come back with snacks. Luke didn’t like it when he smoked in the car so instead he saved his nicotine hits for pit stops like this one.

Matt had found a park bench off to the side of the station, a playground was also there but he’d hardly consider it a playground when it consisted of only a small slide and one swing. Regardless it was the perfect place to wait for Luke to finish up in the gas station, with only one other customer having stopped for gas, Luke wouldn’t be too long.

Matt’s eyes drifted to his phone as he took his last drag and crushed the butt on the ground, Luke had been in there for ten minutes, the other customer had come and gone what seemed like ages ago. He’d received no calls or messages from Luke though but that didn’t chase away the unease that was settling into his stomach.

Unable to wait any longer Matt marched toward the sliding doors and stepped inside the store, his worry only increased when his tall friend was nowhere to be seen.

“Did my friend come in here?” Matt called over to the cashier.

“I dunno, I saw him and then figured he’d gone to the bathroom or left.” The older man shrugged and focused back on his computer once more, thoroughly unbothered by his friend’s disappearance.

“Come on Luke, where are you?” Matt murmured to himself, he turned toward the bathroom, it was possible he was simply overreacting and Luke had just gone to the toilet, he could hope.

He took a step toward the bathroom and then froze when a positively miniscule cry of alarm could be heard from his feet, every inch of Matt’s skin tightened, and a sick feeling washed over him as he dared to look down, hi sneaker still hovering mid-air.

Luke was also frozen, he’d been so relieved when Matt finally stepped into the store that he’d run out hoping to call up to his friend or tug at his pant leg to get his attention. He’d completely forgotten how dangerous an unaware giant could be, even a friendly one, Matt’s booming voice had rattled through him causing him to pause and then everything happened way too fast.

Matt’s sneakers turned in his direction and then rose above him, unable to hold back a scream of fear as it glided over his head and then froze mid step directly above his head. Luke wasn’t sure his little heart could take much more as his heart rate escalated once again.

What should have been a quick in and out trip at the gas station had turned into a literal nightmare for the broken-hearted size shifter.

Matt shifted his foot to the side and carefully placed it back down on the floor once his eyes landed on the small, huddled form of his friend as Luke cradled his hands over his head in a desperate attempt to save himself from being trodden on. Without wanting to raise suspicion from the cashier, Matt carefully scooped him up before pushing his way through the bathroom doors and locking it behind him.

“Luke what the actual fuck? Are you okay?” Matt was caught between frustration and concern but focused more on worry upon seeing his small friend flinch from his loud words.

“Sorry dude.” Matt lowered his voice and raised Luke up to his eyes, scanning over him to make sure he was truly unharmed.

Luke curled inward hugging his knee’s to his chest, the whole experience had been too much, from being dragged back to his heartbreak, to nearly being found by an unknown giant to nearly being stepped on by his best friend. Luke began to shake as tears and shame and guilt overwhelmed him.

“I guess I don’t need to tell you how stupid that was, do you wanna tell me what happened?” Matt asked as gently as he could manage.

“Not here.” Luke’s whispered words only just reached Matt’s ears and he nodded before closing his fingers gently around Luke and pushing him into his hoodie pocket.

His fingers stayed curled around his friend as he made his way back to the cashier to pay for the fuel.

“Find your friend?” The man asked gruffly.

“Ah yeah, all good.” Matt said vaguely, tapped his card and then turned and headed back toward the car.

Once seated back in the drivers seat, Matt pulled Luke out and placed him in the centre console cup holder, he was still shaking and clearly upset but Matt suspected there was more to it then a near run in with his shoe.

“Did someone kick a puppy? Seriously, what the hell happened?” Matt asked as he turned the car on and pulled back out onto the road, the sooner they got to their destination the better.

“I-it was the Reese’s.” Luke felt stupid, it all seemed so silly now and yet here he was six inches tall and that overwhelming feeling of loss and sadness had taken him over because of a peanut butter cup.

“What?” Matt asked leaning over a little as he drove to hear his shrunken friend.

“Reese’s were on sale…they were… they were Jay’s favourite.” Luke said pathetically and couldn’t make himself look upward to see Matt’s reaction.

“Oh Luke.” Matt sighed putting the pieces together rather easily now.

“I’m sorry.” Luke choked on the sobs welling inside his chest once more.

“You know that you don’t actually have anything to be sorry about right?” Matt asked, keeping his eyes on the road as he spoke.

“What happened between you and Jay was not your fault, and what happened at the gas station was also not your fault.” As much as he tried to drill the point through to Luke, he knew that his friend wouldn’t hear him at least not right now.

“I should have been in more control.”

“Luke I’m gonna be honest with you.” Matt said quite seriously. “I don’t actually know of any other person who is in more control of their emotions than you are. You can’t be perfect one hundred percent of the time, especially after a break up, give yourself a break.”

Luke said nothing and the car was silent for a while as they drove, Matt hated the current sadness and tension that lingered about the car. There would be no convincing Luke so he tried a different tactic, changing the subject with humour, it always seemed to work for him anyways.

“So my Aunt’s daughter is looking for actors to play parts in her Peter Pan musical next month, I hope you don’t mind, I put your name down for Tinkerbell.” Matt said as casually as he dared.

“You did not.” Luke scoffed utterly unbelieving until Matt choked on a laugh he’d been trying to hold in.

“You didn’t! Matt tell me you didn’t!”

“I mean it’s doubtful you’ll get the part anyway, you don’t really have the sassiness that comes along with Tinkerbell.” He explained. “The auditions on Thursday.”

Matt felt a small object hit the side of his face and he turned to see Luke standing in the cup holder with admittedly a very pissed off Tinkerbell expression on his face and missing one shoe.

“Did you just throw a shoe at me?” Matt smirked.

“You deserved it you gigantic ass.” Luke glared upward.

“Good luck finding that ever again.” Matt laughed.

“Ah shit.”

Matt turned his head again to see Luke’s body expanding slowly inch by inch, he pulled over to help his friend out of the now squishy cup holder and onto the passenger seat. They both held hope that Luke was simply growing to his human height, however there was always the possibility that he could go the other extreme and that meant he’d need a quick escape out of the car.

His growing stopped when his head almost brushed the roof of the car as usual and Matt smiled at him.

“Welcome back.” He said.

“Yeah well now I’ve got one normal shoe and one tiny shoe somewhere in here.” Luke groaned, it seemed his ‘gift’ would never ever gave him a break.

Luke muttered a thanks regardless of his annoyance, he knew full well what his friend had been trying to do and it had worked, and for that he was grateful.

With his mood improved they continued their journey, Matt soon turned down a gravel road that grew rougher and bumpier the further in they travelled.  When their car simply couldn’t go any further Matt stopped and turned off the car.

“We’re here!”

Taglist:

@da3dm

@smolcomfycat

@satethesatelite

@coffehbeans

@soakedmilkgt

@only-surviving-drfan

[belethlegwen]

CLICK HERE FOR YOUR PRIZE

[racheyace]

So good! I'm also shocked there isn't more Rumble fanfics and art around! That movie is just bursting with G/t and so wholesome!

Also amazing writing!

Dancing with a Kaiju - Rumble 2021 fic

After watching Rumble 2021, I was somewhat disappointed with the lack of fic on here from the g/t community, considering the film in itself is just pure g/t. So, I decided to indulge myself and write a short fic about Winnie and Steve (purely PLATONIC, not romantic in any way, Winnie is a minor) with a good amount of g/t thrown in. This was just meant to be something short and fun, as while I loved the film, I would’ve loved even more goofy moments between these two as their dynamic is entertaining.  Synopsis: Set in between the events of the film, Winnie decides it’s time for Steve to take the reins and be her dance coach for a day. Antics and banter ensue (as well as g/t goodness!). 

Keep reading

[belethlegwen]

Hey girl heeey, it's me again! I'm still raving over the tiny/shrunk Melanie in Vogunti! Do you, mayhaps, have a scenario or a little snippet of tiny and/or shrunk Melanie with Henry? A little crumb, perhaps?

I love this ask!

I loved this ask so much that I was like "aw hell yeah, I can make a googadok and scribble out some ideas/maybe a quick little scene".

......

Anyway here's 15 pages of what would've been the start of The Stranding But Shit Happened And They Swapped, please enjoy <3

Also posting it here below the cut for the Tumblr folk who don't wanna head to AO3:

“Just hang on.”

Henry wasn’t sure who he was saying it to anymore.

His voice was hoarse and he hacked loudly into the rainy salt-spray that came up over the bow, his boots gripping the textured floor beneath him as he gripped tightly to the wheel.

“Just hang on.”

When his empty hand slipped on it, he could feel how cold the steel was wherever he hadn’t been holding. The other hand released from the wheel, hauling hard on the rope that was wrapped tightly around his palm and wrist as another gust came to try and take them off track once more.

They were nearly there.

They had cleared the black stones.

They had made it past the point.

They were nearly there.

He could see the trees on the hills, bowing and bending with the gusts of wind that would’ve likely torn any other sloop’s sails from the mast and rigging. If he could keep them from catching one more bad gust-- if he could ride this next wave with the tide--

“Hang on!”

He turned the ship at the last, pointing her straight in toward the shore that the waves were throwing him at as he hauled on the sail rope for that one, final, desperate moment.

She practically flew, weightlessness nearly overcoming him as they left the crest and hopped toward the next wave, her keel clearing the hump of any dropoff there if he was lucky. 

Another gust rushed at them sideways, this one threatening to undo all of his hard work.

He let the rope fly free, the wind whipping it with such a noise as he had never heard before, and he felt blood rush back through his palm to his cold, numb fingers.

 That hand fell over his chest, while the other gripped the wheel to help him brace for the impact as the Swift Landslide’s belly landed on the sand and beach rocks, sliding and scraping with the surf up the beach.

His knees had hit the deck, one leg splayed toward the port side to brace against what little this vessel’s helm offered as a foothold, merely a strange recess that had so very recently seemed so very, very different. In the profane, vulgar stillness the vessel had come to in defiance of the gusting, churning winds, the pounding sheets of rain, and the rolling of the sea, Henry tried to slow his ragged, hacking breathing while it drowned out nearly every other sound even as the water lapped loudly against the propped and tilted bottom of the boat.

“...Keel’s gone,” he called through panting gasps, loudly enough to carry through the storm to--

“Fuck,” he swore much more quietly, his hand lifting away from the breast of his coat as he scrambled to his feet, splashing in the water that had collected on deck. He fought his way inside. The strangely-folding hinged door to the now cramped, almost suffocating cabin was barely still attached.

“Fuck, please--” he breathed in panic, struggling to close the door behind him in effort to shut out the storm, standing at an angle on the stepped ladder between the bench and the tiny galley. “Please, are-- are you alright? Please, can you-- can you say something? Anything?”

He pulled the coat gently open as he finally got himself onto the floor proper, staring down at the top of the inner pocket, his mind already firing through a thousand or more worst-case-scenarios. He couldn’t tell if he was still shaking too much, or if his eyes could truly make out anything in the dark.

A breath rushed out of him deeper than the one he was sure he had taken as muffled noises managed to reach his ears, followed by what was clearly coughing. The fabric moved, though it seemed so wrong in its way.

She was alive. That alone put so many of his barely-formed fears to rest.

…She was alive. That alone ignited so many new fears and confusions.

“I-- I need to get you out of there,” he muttered, his tongue and lips seeming to move of their own accord and stutter his words like he meant to say so, so much more. Water dripped from his brow, splashing into a growing puddle collecting on the floor as rain and more of the sea trickled in under the door and over the steps behind him. “I-- there’s wat-- it doesn’t matter,” he mumbled to himself, his heart pounding as he struggled to figure out the next step, her sounds still incomprehensible.

The boat rocked under him as a particularly large wave crashed around and under it; not enough to dislodge, but enough to have him bump his head on one of the overhead devices that had seemed miles away the last he had bothered to take any stock of them. Mindlessly his hand kept coming to press against the outside of his coat, knowing without truly acknowledging that there was panicked movement inside it. If he would stop to think about it, Henry would either tell himself he was trying to offer comfort and reassurance, or he would realise that it clearly had the opposite effect and would stop. As it stood now, however, he could not stop to think about it, so he moved himself to sit on the lowest-tilted bench, positioning himself next to the ridiculously small counter.

He couldn’t get lost in the thoughts of the size of things right now; at least things outside of her.

Another noise he couldn’t make out was followed by obvious coughs as he opened his coat once again, the man muttering apologies and directions-- mostly to himself-- as fingers reached to the pocket’s top seam and opened it.

“Wait!”

It was a shrill scream, and the first understandable word she had used since this nightmare began, but as quickly as the man stopped at the sound of it, her next explosive wave of coughs spurred him into thoughtless action again, and those fingers-- still with the cold of the storm clinging throughout them-- fumbled her screaming, flailing form out of the damp fabric.

Everything about this felt so wrong to him. A desire to clutch and hold to stop her frightened attempt to escape him was nearly overbearing all of his better senses, simply due to the adrenaline-filled instincts that coursed through him with the thundering of his heart still.

All the while as he tried to wrap both hands around her, his stomach lurched and mind stabbed at him with the memories of his own terrors; of his own hatred for what he was doing to her. These were fresh wounds of fear, even, that he now was inflicting on her with no excuse other than that itself: Fear. 

He was frightened.

Though as he released her onto the slanted counter, hands staying to try and create a wall so she wouldn’t throw herself over an edge in her panic, he realised he was not nearly as frightened as her.

Melanie’s throat was raw and still she screamed. It was a compulsion, it was instinct. Involuntary, along with the scrambling and flailing. She hadn’t gotten her bearings since she could remember the wave knocking her onto the cushioned bench while she had attempted to reach for Henry. That was when everything turned into… this.

Gravity wheeled and sent her head spinning again as she struggled uselessly against what she refused to admit were fingers; what she refused to let herself believe was the oppressive strength of her being pulled and pushed into a palm, her legs and feet dangling and kicking until they too were wrapped and squeezed and restrained in that bizarre, pulsating way she had been struggling to process the entire time she was in that damp, tight dark.

She had thought for a brief time in that terrifying lightless sack that being able to breathe fresh air again might save her from feeling so sick and disoriented as the world around her had moved and spun and jumped and lurched and swung and compressed and…

Being out in the open air of-- she couldn’t bring herself to even try to grasp it-- proved that thought so very wrong. All it managed to give her was more air to scream with as she felt herself swinging through the air once more.

Everything was so loud.

Her feet collided with a hard, solid surface finally and all at once the constriction around her body released, leaving her free to do what she wanted. Which was, apparently, to scramble away from the moving shadows that were all around her while a cacophony of horrible noise was momentarily drowned out by an excessively loud, deeper sound.

“Melanie.”

Her hands leapt to slap against her ears and she slipped on whatever surface she had been placed on. “Wait, wait--” the voice continued, resonating through her chest even while it seemed to get quieter and quieter as she tried to gasp for air.

It was no use. Her screaming ceased, only because she couldn’t fight her lurching stomach any longer.

“Breathe, please… just breathe,” his voice came again, so strange and so different it would have been completely unfamiliar were it not for the tone; the rhythm. “I’ll speak quieter, you speak louder, and we’ll get through this.”

Despite her shaking she attempted to move herself into sitting up, or at least kneeling, a hand reaching for anything to brace herself with but staggering back into just holding herself off of the ground on all fours, shuffling herself further away from her own sick as she spluttered out coughs.

The owner of that rumbling voice went back to what must count as mumbling, even at that volume, muttering out worries and pleas and everything else before his voice raised with revelation.

“Ah, here--”

The shadows that had been moving all around and above her throughout this nightmare so far were suddenly no longer shadows, a loud clunking noise announcing the arrival of light just a couple of brief seconds before it flickered into the gargantuan space all around her.

Melanie finally looked up.

And up.

And up.

Then back down, her body curling in tightly against itself as if that would protect her somehow from this reality. This dream. This insanity.

“It’s me, it’s me!”

It may have been an attempt at reassurance, but it just made her cover her ears again. It was what happened next that finally offered her something of substance; something that could help her finally catch her breath.

As she cowered on what she could less and less deny was the counter of the galley, the presence of his hand had barely enough time to make her shiver before it was pressed fully against her back, his fingers curled and creating a canopy over her head that dimmed the light. Instantly, it felt so much better; instantly she was in a smaller space that wasn’t restrictive or terrifying. Instantly she was feeling honest, genuine comfort.

“There, there,” he tried to whisper, his voice like gusts of wind pushing against a sheltering wall in a storm, the comparison so easy to make as the ship rocked again with a wave and another, actual howl of wind. “It’s… you’re fine, breathe.”

Breathing was a struggle, but no longer impossible even as she quivered. There was no way for her to know how long it took her to stop shaking, only that by the time she had realised she had, Henry still clearly had not. With a deep, nearly gasping breath, she reached a hand above her head to rest on one of the fingers that was creating her shelter as the lights beyond it flickered again with the pounding sound of rain against the ship.

Melanie’s mind was ablaze with everything the sensation of his finger meant in this moment. Everything about it; the texture, the faint warmth still growing through the chill that lingered, the feeling of the muscles beneath shifting as it twitched and reacted to her own touch. His thumb dropped, sagging almost as it rested across her arm and her side, and she moved to touch the back of it instead, her hand shakily rubbing back and forth in some attempt to ground herself more.

“What happened?” She croaked out, eyes closed and flinching against the sounds of the nightmarish hurricane outside.

The sounds that obviously made it so he couldn’t hear her.

She cleared her throat with a few short coughs before trying again, shouting as loud as she was able to convince herself to, against every instinct she had trained over the last two years. “What happened?”

He let out a noise of surprise, stammering in a percussive way; a way that made her ribcage feel like it was resonating along with his words and utterings. “I… I don’t know, I can’t-- it just happened.”

His whispering was like the wind, but so much less threatening, so much less terrifying.

When she opened her eyes to finally look beyond what little safety she had, it took a moment to recognize exactly what she was seeing. His glistening-wet coat and wrinkled damp shirt shifted with his gigantic breaths, dark tendrils of dripping hair messily splattered or dangling across the fronts of both.

“...I was worried you’d say that,” she gathered the energy to shout to him, trying to make sense of just this little window of the massive new world around her. A world that was so familiar, not that long ago. A world that was supposed to be like home.

Her hand splayed and tensed against the back of his massive thumb as if to hold him down, her precious man-made lean-to tipping back as the view from her haven shifted dramatically before her. The startling blue-green shine of his eye absorbed all of her focus as she jumped back in her lying position, his hand tipping back down over her in response. “Sorry,” he muttered, raising his head back up so she could only see his chin and the coarse hairs that framed his mouth. “Am I really that frightening?”

“Yes!”

He sputtered out a surprised laugh that caused her to wince again, and he hushed himself as best as he was able. “I-- I was just trying to be funny,” he explained. “I’m also trying to see if you’re alright.”

“I’m not alright,” she said, loudly but less than shouting as she tried to hold back more coughs. “I-- this is--”

The words stopped. She couldn’t force out any that would make sense of any of this, so whatever had made it out simply hung there until the man around and in front and over her all at once heaved a sigh. “You still didn’t have to be so blunt,” he said under his breath after a moment, and the shock of that being his response in the face of everything else caught her with such force that she laughed as well.

“It’s true,” she called. “Why would you ask if you--”

“I don’t recall being that horrified by seeing you the first time like… this.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t! I--”

“No!” she shouted in this bizarre, distracting argument, trying to make sure she was loud enough for him to hear over his own oppressively loud voice. “You were panicked! You ran and hid behind a-- a towel, for God’s sake, you--”

“That was because I was naked,” he stated, his face shifting again in her little window to try and see her again. “Which, I’ll point out, you’re lucky enough not to be, so. I think I deserve a bit more credit.”

“Credit for what?” she shouted again, the absurdity of the conversation helping her let go of the terror of the situtation.

“For being kind, for one thing,” he replied, that giant mouth flashing into his cocky, lop-sided grin of a smirk before sliding out of her view and those eyes coming back into it. “And incredibly brave for another.”

“You drew a sword on me,” she said, her voice much more sheepish in that massive, unavoidable gaze, his gargantuan face turning to point an ear more toward her.

“You certainly just seemed like you’d have done the same,” he teased again. “You’re just lacking the opportunity.”

“I still have my dagger,” she called after checking her belt for it. There was an awkward pause, quieting them both amongst the calamity of the storm still pounding on the ship all around them. “I suppose I won’t be needing that anymore.”

“Keep it,” he said, those eyes lifting out of her view again as a non-smirking mouth reappeared. “But… yes, I imagine we won’t need the performance any longer. At least not from you.”

“...Oh god,” she breathed, another couple of coughs leaving her. Finally, she felt brave enough to try and sit up, her hands moving to try and guide his massive one away from her. Her eyes lingered on the texture of his fingers, the wrinkles and scars on his hands she had never seen before. Even as she blinked away the light as his hand moved away from her, she couldn’t bring herself to look at him in full. Not yet. “Do you-- are you the right…? For here, I mean, are we-- did we make it?”

His hand left the counter and she was alone there, trying not to look at him as his gigantic movements near her caused her to shiver from the size of them alone. “We’re somewhere I know, I’m sure,” he said in a mix of whistling, wind-like whispers and deep resonating words, creating such a strange emphasis while he spoke. “We passed barrier stones, so we must be on the shore of Vogunti, or perhaps if we’re too far south, Hostenia, but… I won’t know for sure if it’s anything I recognize until daybreak, at the least.”

Melanie took a peek only enough to see that Henry was fixing his wet hair, and distracted herself by trying to do something with her own just using her fingers. For the amount she had been in the wind and rain before all of this happened, on top of whatever happened when she had been confined to the dark and damp of his coat, it was useless and frankly painful to try and tame it right now.

“...I don’t know if I’m right or not,” he added with an exhausted-sounding laugh that made her flinch much less this time. “That will… that will also have to wait until daybreak.”

“How long will that be?” She asked, though his soft ‘hm?’ and the oppressively massive gesture of him leaning just slightly closer to listen better caused her to repeat it louder.

“I’ve not the faintest idea. At least five hours, I’d imagine? It was near nine when we hit the storm, if I remember correctly.”

His hands finished their work with his incredibly long hair, but instead of returning to her they dropped to his lap, somewhere beyond the little wall the counter had at the back by the bench seating. He was turned to face the other side of the boat now, the rise and fall of his chest more prominent as her eyes became braver and braver, taking in the massive sight of him piecemeal. 

“Keel’s gone,” he said after a moment in the quiet.

“I heard earlier,” she said, gathering herself to stand, trying to watch her footing as the wind sent what felt like small quakes through the whole boat.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out in shame, rubbing at his face and causing her to stagger back with the movement of even his most distant arm. “I-- am I quiet enough? Are you hurt? Did I-- when I grabbed you, was it--”

“Henry,” she said, staring at his familiar and strangely unfamiliar face, trying to make sense of the angle and the size and the detail versus the image she had had of him before. “It’s fine, I-- I’m not hurt, I don’t think, I--”

“You don’t think?” he asked, and his head turned to stare at her, both of them this time balking as their gazes met. “Melanie, if I hurt you--”

“You didn’t, I’m sure you didn’t,” she stammered out loudly, fighting the tightness in her chest that threatened to choke her words out. “I just-- it was a lot. It’s a lot. I’m still… this is still new.”

The mountain of a man continued to look at her, and she realised his pupils were moving, jittery and quick. He was looking at all of her, so quickly; so easily. Her arms wrapped around herself and she fidgeted, eyes dropping to his clothes again.

“I shouldn’t have,” he uttered again on an exhale that seemed like it could fill the whole room. “I shouldn’t have done that to you. The grabbing, the pocket, I-- but I didn’t have any other choice, I just--”

“It’s ok!” she called, stepping back and forth as she shook her head. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you’d left me in here, I don’t-- I don’t wanna think about it.”

Her eyes moved back up and up again to his face, meeting his startlingly giant gaze once more. “The pocket probably wasn’t so bad,” the insignificant woman on the counter admitted with an uncomfortable shrug. “It was just… fast, and dark. And wet-- it was… it was wet. That didn’t help.”

“Oh shit,” he swore, turning his attention down to the coat. “I-- did it soak through? I thought if you were inside it wouldn’t.”

“No, I don’t think any came from outside. I think it was just already damp from… everything else.”

“Well, the weath--”

Another crashing wave bumped the bottom of the vessel again, and the counter was nearly a springboard to her as it rocked aggressively upwards at a slant. Her arms had barely spread out to help her balance when a wall of a hand came sweeping toward her, a startled noise catching itself in her throat.

“Sorry, sorry!” he was babbling in his full voice again, the panic strong and clear. The ship finished landing back on its beached angle as the water outside receded, and she took deep breaths to slow her heart as she leaned against his fingers with her arms splayed over the tops of holding them close to her, relieved that he hadn’t closed them this time.

“Thanks,” she said, getting her balance and footing firmly again but finding herself reluctant to let his hand go.

He was just as reluctant to move it away.

“...As I was saying,” he continued with a chuckle that seemed to echo through his throat with a gritty texture to its sound, “the weather is shit.”

Melanie laughed, and whether he could hear it over the sound of another pounding of wind and rain above their heads, they both found themselves relaxing. A quiet, far more comfortable than the last, stretched between them and she found herself captivated by all of the details that were invisible to her for the last two years, now completely shocking to her in their size and texture both.

Meanwhile, Henry felt like the churning waves outside.

“...I don’t know what to do,” the man attached to the hand she was touching in long, slow sweeps of her fingers and palm said.

“Did you lose the sail?” the woman he watched move in such small and delicate ways asked, while he tried to imagine himself in her hands now.

His finger curled hesitantly inward to meet her touch. “I meant with you.”

Tiny hands grabbed his finger and rubbed the pad and the nail at the same time, exploring the textures of both. She didn’t reply. She didn’t even look at him. He spoke again.

“We should try to sleep.”

Her shoulders may have raised at that, and it upset him thoroughly that he couldn’t tell. His head tipped and turned, trying to find some kind of angle where he could see her expression without it being so obvious that he was staring.

“...Is the boat going to be safe?” 

“Would you like me to go drop anchor?” He asked, unable to help himself. The sour look she shot at his cocky grin was luckily an expression that didn’t often contain much subtlety. She turned her attention back to examining his hand, and he turned his attention back to watching her as he gave the question more serious thought. “The surge seems to be receding. The waves aren’t reaching as far, and not nearly as often as they were; we may still get a few rockings like this, but it won’t be enough to dislodge us.”

He looked to the floor and the water around his toes. “...If the rain keeps pushing in through that door, we may have something to contend with in the morning. I highly doubt it will get to the point of overtaking the cushions, but…”

“Where am I going to sleep?”

Clearly, she didn’t much care about the water.

Henry finally took a moment to really absorb his surroundings, fighting the strange overbearing sensation of claustrophobia as he continuously clocked where the ceiling was. He had never felt so cramped aboard the Massingill, or any of his other vessels, had he?

Everything was so… small now. Everything was like a toy to him, and his head ached as he looked at once familiar things and tried to grasp now that he could actually grasp them in a single hand if he wanted to. The sink faucet. The dislodged GPS. The cans of food and bottles of spices tipped sideways on their railed shelves.

The stairs and walkways they had built for him.

Before he could no longer fight the urge to bury his face in his hands and trying to hold his skull together around all of this insanity, his eyes fell on another item that otherwise would’ve sent him spiraling.

“The hammock?” he suggested weakly, and she turned to try and locate it near the forepoint behind him, past the sliding doors that had slipped ajar in their wrecking. Her mouth moved, that much he could see, but whatever swear it had been was too quiet for him to hear. “No?”

“I can’t,” she called louder, her voice so vastly different to the one he knew the best. “Not tonight-- not with the boat like this.” He had heard her almost like this, previously, when he had snuck away with her without her knowing; when she had no idea he was nearby, and didn’t feel the need to accommodate him like she would every time they spoke together.

He nodded, glancing around again for some kind of solution. “I suppose you’ll still want the bed, then,” he said lightly, that smirk tugging up one side of his lips.

“It’s my bed,” she called back, coughing a bit from the strain.

“You don’t need all of it,” he teased, lifting an eyebrow and cocking his head toward the higher end of the cabin. “Why not a quarter berth? You can have the whole thing-- the one without the extra lifejackets on it, even!”

“No!” she shouted, though he could hear her laughing in spite of herself. “I still want the forepoint, I just don’t want the hammock.”

“Fine,” he said, tossing his hands up like this was any other joking argument they were having in her kitchen while she cooked, or while they spent time sprawled beneath a tree in the backyard of her home. She staggered back from the motion, his eyes being drawn back to her doll-sized form again and he lowered them carefully with a wash of shame. It wasn’t enough to completely destroy what levity they had managed to find, however, as he added: “Will it be big enough for you?”

Melanie attempted to run her fingers through her hair again and he closed his eyes against the wave of memory of how her hair used to feel to his hands, thick silken threads sliding between his fingers. Now he could probably pinch the whole of her hair between two fingers. “...There’s room for one more,” she called to him, pulling him back to this wild dream.

“It’s not a hammock,” she added, arms hugging around themselves again as she started to take small steps on the counter.

“I know,” he said, sighing. He was finding it harder and harder to look away from her. “Are you-- would it be alright?”

“Of course it’s alright,” she sighed right back, shrugging. “It was never a problem, we just--”

“I don’t want to hurt you, like this.”

Henry had cut off her answer because it wasn’t what he had meant to ask her. He knew. He knew he had always been welcome. He knew that wasn’t the reason it had stopped. That wasn’t what he was asking about now.

She had tensed more into herself, somehow shrinking further. How had she ever dealt with this? How had she made it seem so natural and easy? All he wanted to do was comfort her, but he couldn’t simply wrap his arms around her fingers like he used to.

“You won’t,” she said in a voice he barely caught, repeating it louder and with a false confidence he could notice. “...Do you want the left side or the right side?”

“I’ll take your side so you can be close to the hammock, for when you come to your senses.” 

The giant man smiled at her, and the small woman smiled back, a strange pain just barely hidden behind both. The moment lingered, passing on to the point of having to take the next step. He waited for her to say it; it was the last thing he wanted to suggest.

“It doesn’t sound like it’s getting any nicer out there,” she said, looking up at the ceiling to listen to the next wave of pounding rain against it. He watched her knees seem to buckle as she did, her gaze promptly dropping back down, the woman steadying herself on the counter. “...Think you can get us to the bed?”

“What do you mean by that?” Henry’s brow furrowed over a skeptical, smirking expression. “I got us here, didn’t I?”

“Without a keel,” she stressed, smirking back, though even at their distance-- at her size-- he could see the exhaustion on her features now.

Henry lifted his hands up, bringing them slowly to the edge of the counter just past the little wall at the back of it, nearest him, one flat and the other tilted. Whatever bravado she had attempted to have for the joke evaporated instantly like a drop of water on a hot iron. He would wait; he didn’t want to grab her again.

“I-- Henry I don’t… I don’t think…”

“It’ll be fine, you can sit if you--”

It was, in truth, a much smaller knock of a wave than the boat had suffered previously since he had landed her on the beach, but it was still enough to have her stumble and yelp. His hand had moved instinctively, nearly knocking into her as she seemed to roll against it and throw her arms over the top.

“Please,” she begged after the vessel had settled on its rocky bed again. “Can you… like you did for the pocket. Just… just take it slow.”

“But--”

“Please, Henry,” she said louder, not able to look up at him, and clutching his hand even tighter to her body.

It felt wrong. It felt so wrong to do it. It had been something he would have hated had she done it to him, and instead she was asking for it again.

His fingers closed around her, thumb and forefinger under her arms as she finally relented her grasp on him, as small as it was. His mouth opened to stammer out excuses, more argument-- perhaps she was just lacking confidence. Perhaps he could make her feel better, feel safer. Perhaps he could make her do this any other way.

She was so delicate. So fragile.

How had she done this? Any of this?

How had he, when he was in her position?

It had been so natural when they had done it even just hours ago. It had been natural for nearly years. Now they were negotiating back and forth with words and movements like one wrong move could set off a keg of powder. He twisted his hand, she shifted to correct him. “Am I squeezing too much?” “No.” “Now?” “No. Keep your fingers where I put them.”

Finally they were both as happy as they would be with how he was holding her, and he wondered if his heart being in his throat had any effect on the pulse that was thundering back against her ribcage. He hadn’t thought of this-- any of this-- the first time. He had simply grabbed her small, squirming body, an mere fistful of a person, and dropped her into his pocket while his mind had directed him to seventy other, ‘more important’ things.

He didn’t notice until he started to lift her that her eyes were closed, and closed tight. Had they been closed this whole time?

Melanie’s chest stretched and pressed against the flesh of his hand in rapid rhythm, her arms and hands gripping desperately over the back of his thumb and clinging to a fingernail. He heard her make a sound-- some kind of yelp of whimper and stopped his movement as her legs dangled and tensed and fidgeted out past his smallest finger, the whole of her waist and hips and the tops of her thighs in his horrendously diffident grip.

“Don’t stop!”

Henry blinked at the sound of her near bark of a command, her terror literally sensational to him in every aspect. He swept her further up, another less loud and less sudden shout of “not so fast!” giving him the kind of helpful direction he needed. Then… he was holding her.

Her entire self was in his hand. Tense, but not panicking or flailing as she had before, and tipped just slightly back into his palm with her eyes closed tightly; every muscle taught as they could be around him.

Of all the times he had humoured the thoughts of swapping positions with her, not once had he imagined this. Not once had he even wondered what this could be like or feel like from this perspective. For all the faults he was quick to pinpoint and address and correct as he was able, never was there a thought of being in these shoes.

His other hand had moved without thought to support her legs, his thumb almost mindlessly running over the tops of her thighs and knees in an attempt to get her to relax and unbend them. Her chest expanded with a gasp he didn’t hear at his touch, and she tensed even more at first before relenting.

Still, her eyes would not open.

He didn’t want them to. 

Not yet. Not while he was unable to stop staring at her in a way which he knew he had been subject to so many times over the last two years. Gawked at. Inspected. Henry had hated the feeling of it then, and likely still would now, regardless of how much he suddenly felt himself empathizing with them all.

“I’ll take it slow,” he whispered, his thumb caressing softly over her shins for lack of anything better to do while he still held her steady with his other hand.

Melanie nodded, her arms flexing so strongly against him for her size, in spite of all of the frailty she looked like she should possess.

His eyes hardly left her even as he made his way to their once massive berth, only relenting his delicate hold of her legs enough to maneuver the sliding door and close it behind them. Stooping lower over the mattress and its tangle of blankets and sheets, the pillows nowhere near where they typically were, he did his best to gently position her into sitting on the side that was nearest his ridiculous, shamefully small hammock where it swung with the latest tiny bump of a wave. Fingers opened and slid away, her hands trying to hold him until the last second when she seemed to settle herself properly on the cushiontop.

“Thank you.”

It was probably her second attempt at saying it, and still it had nearly not made it to him.

“Get yourself situated,” he said to her. The directions of a Captain. The soft voice of a friend. “I’ll make the last checks, hang my coat, and then I’ll be in.”

Those tiny dots he knew were supposed to be hazel opened and took their time to look up at him, bouncing across the features of his face and between his own two eyes. She nodded, her tiny hand clutching at the blanket beneath her like it was a life preserver.

Henry smiled, a finger tapping the mattress through the blankets in lieu of letting himself say anything further. Then, he took a deep breath, and stood himself back up.

…Promptly knocking his head into the ceiling.

At least she laughed at that.

[belethlegwen]

The Scars We Leave Behind

Written by: @adjacentperception and @belethlegwen

What's left of a hero when everything is taken from him? What's left of a villain with no identity?

What's left of a man who has no choice but to save the symbol of a system he's fighting against?

Within a city constantly besieged by a super-power fueled war between Good vs Evil, a hero is captured by powerful villain and their secret organization and forced to play part in a twisting and enigmatic plan; to tear down the systems in place that keep the League of Heroes in an ultimate seat of power to rival the government itself. But… is the system as good as it projects itself to be? Are the villains and their henchmen really as evil as the media says? Is it truly as simple as tearing it down, or does that simply open up space for a new, worse system to enter?

Is the harm we do when we believe we're helping mitigated merely by our wishes to be better? To create something more? To fix what we believe is broken?

Do we hold blame for creating the evil we think we're fighting against, regardless of our intentions?

This work features descriptions of violence, abuse, neglect, and uses adult language, as well as mentions of nudity and sexual topics.

[belethlegwen]

Hey since Henry spent a lot of time online, does he know what memes are? Would he think they're funny? Does he have a favorite meme?

These are the real, pressing questions that the public (me) wants to know.

He does not find most of them funny, only because they tend to be referential humour (and the man is about 300 years out of date to get most of them) or evolve to the point of being self-referential after a time, so again with the out-of-date thing coming into play.

THAT SAID

The man has been Rick Rolled and successfully managed one time and is deeply satisfied with that knowledge. He also genuinely enjoys the song.

There are a few phrases that Melanie uses that are from memes that he's picked up on and uses every now and again, without really understanding where it comes from or why it's said when it doesn't make sense (he'll sometimes respond to any minor inconvenience with 'I'm never going to financially recover from this' only because he's heard Melanie do it so, so often).

As a result of Melanie being the problem in the house, most meme-phrases the man knows are actually from The Simpsons. She tried to get him to watch it a few times and he was not a fan.

Thank you so so much for the ask! This is important journalism and I'm glad someone with such amazing integrity is out here asking the real questions <3 <3 <3

[belethlegwen]

The Rescue - Chp 55 - Tying Up The Lines

I didn't mean to break AO3, I swear to god. I just wanted to post two new chapters! That was all!

Again, it's been slow progress, but that's an improvement from no progress! With a new wrench in the bizarre situation Melanie and Henry have found themselves in (a wrench named Laura), there's a shift in the dynamic as they both have to come to terms with shit they had been ignoring and pushing aside in the hopes things would figure themselves out on their own.

I hope you all enjoy, when you can! Sorry again about destroying AO3 forever.

~ Belle

[belethlegwen]

What is a niche aspect of G/t that you dearly love that you don't get a chance to really talk about?

How it reflects on self-image.

I think that's the niche one that I don't talk about enough, though I bring it up a little bit in my works. The idea that, particularly in most media where you aren't used to being at the perspective you're suddenly in (you're small around people who are bigger, or big around people who are smaller, and it's something you've either never experienced before or haven't experienced much) how that will change how you see yourself.

Melanie in The Rescue for example has existing concerns about her appearance and how people see her to begin with, and that becomes wildly amplified when someone small is nearby. She covers her mouth while she's eating, she tries to keep her head and face pointed up and away when she's feeling extremely self-conscious.

If you hate the idea of constantly being noticed, judged, critiqued, scrutinized, etcetera, then suddenly being a Giant to someone else/other people has to be fucking hell. Any issues you have with your self-image normally aren't exactly put aside when your face is the size of a movie-screen and you know people's eyes don't usually come with those lovely hollywood-glam filters they put over actors in film.

As a Giant are you now more worried about being in the way? About being a problem for people? About causing damage or harm accidentally? Or are you being pressured to do more, be more simply because of how other people see you?

On the flip-side of that, if you're suddenly small, do you feel much more vulnerable? Do you feel like you're under significantly more threat? Have you lost a feeling of control that you desperately needed to keep a sensation of being safe?

Do you feel disposable? Do you feel useless? Are you more of a burden now than you were before, so reliant on others in a world that isn't built to help you? That might not feel like it's even interested in helping you?

Do you feel invisible? Easily forgotten? If you were used to being the center of attention before, does this absolutely shatter that or suddenly make that lifestyle feel like a waking nightmare? \

Do you feel like you're not enough?

If you were having those issues and feelings before, how are they amplified or changed now? How are they messed with, skewed, possibly erased in some cases?

I try to bring a good bit of these perspectives into my writing where I can, but it can be exhaustingly introspective and feel extremely heavy both to read and to write, but I can't say that I'm not fascinated by it.

Thank you so much for the ask, love! <3

[witcherfan]

Happy Birthday !!!

🌺 My Works Masterpost 🌺

Howdy! I write giant / tiny (GT) stories of various genres! A lot of my stories are SFW, though I like to delve into darker and risqué themes when the mood strikes– keep an eye out for warning tags before stories. 

Look under the cut to find the stories I have posted! If you enjoy my work, feel free to drop a comment and let me know what you’d like to see more of! Thank you for reading! 💖✨

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