The whump potential in g/t is just so good whether it's intentional or not
Yes! Hide that injury from your friend out of insecurity and then let it get jostled when they pick you up, making both the initial injury and your chances at a swift recovery even worse! Hope they don't notice your wincing and shortness of breath because it would force you to have an emotionally honest conversation!! Don't reach out for help until the last minute because accepting it makes you feel even smaller than you are! Repress!!
Refuse to acknowledge when someone is being too rough when messing around and is actually hurting you! Hide those injuries later, too! Worry about what would happen if you did say something! Would they stop? Acting more gentle in a way you can't help but feel is condescending, pretending you're so fragile (are you?) Or what if they don't stop? You can't really make them anyway. What if they brushed it off, telling you to toughen up? Would that be worse? Would they even feel bad if they knew? Better to not deal with the possibilities at all and just stay quiet for now. That way, it won't get any worse (it will)
Make that character spiral!! Yes!! Reach a boiling point "out of nowhere" because you refused to show any vulnerability!
Borrowers who enter specialized fields within their small communities. Borrowers who live within hospitals and doctors’ offices picking up on trade practices and becoming a reliable source for others on things such as proper health and the correct doses of human medicines to take.
I say all this because I need an in-universe reason as to how someone who's four inches tall got top surgery
Zoologist who has been effectively shunned from their field for obsessively seeking out "hidden species". Now, they live alone, far from any neighbors or influences that could remind them of their past. Or they thought they did at least. Recently, they've found several signs of a presence in the house, and not that of an infestation or a rodent. No, the things they've found are too civilized. Small pieces of food taken off with a tool rather than teeth, scratches that appear to be made with the purpose of distinguishing certain areas of the house rather than out of instinct.
Borrower who has been living in the walls of a house rather peacefully until they notice certain developments. Their human has become more aware, excitable. Odd, considering their usual nature of despondence. It's not until they have the misfortune of seeing the human uncover one of their secret entrances that they realize what has caused this change in mood. They need to leave now, but the human is being more attentive than ever. So, they stay, ceasing their trips out, attempting to survive on what little they have left. They lose sleep, too afraid to close their eyes for a prolonged period of time. Eventually, hunger wins out, forcing them to make a quick supply run. Unfortunately, a lack of sleep and trying to be aware of your surroundings don't mix, leading them right into a trap.
The human finally catches them and... oh, they look awful. They can't possibly present them like this. Hair matted, dark circles under their eyes, skin in poor condition, malnourished. It would be a disgrace. They've waited so long for evidence, a way to finally prove that they were right, now it seems they'll have to wait a little longer. Everything should be perfect, just as they had imagined.
Reluctantly, impatiently, the human takes the time to nurse them back to relatively good health. They make sure the borrower is eating a balanced diet, drinking water, and getting enough sleep. They brush their hair and fix up their clothes, even when they squirm and struggle all the while. Slowly but surely, the borrower's health improves. The entire time, the borrower is scared, not just for themself, but their species as a whole. They know what their captor does did for a living, they know what could happen if things all go according to the human's plan. Fortunately, the borrower has learned a lot from living in this human's walls, about animal behavior and specifically about how certain animals imprint. Slowly, they tone down any escape attempts. They've already been a captive audience during the human's earlier rants, but now they listen, adding a sympathetic comment here and there. Eventually, when the human starts asking for input, they cock their head to the side before answering softly. Trying to play up the "cute and helpless" angle as much as they can.
After the borrower feels that they've built up a good enough rapport, they make contact. It's winter now, snow falling with force. They feign being cold enough to snuggle into the human's hand for warmth while they're writing up some report or another. The human pauses, freezing, before slowly reciprocating, curling their fingers around the borrower much more gently than they would have previously. Time passes and the human makes no mention of an exhibition, no word of revealing their discovery. They ask the borrower more questions, not about their species, but them specifically. What sorts of things they enjoy–food, clothes, colors, weather. They get a lot less vigilant as well. Placing the borrower down on surfaces that they could conceivably climb down, allowing them useful objects if they ask.
One day, the human leaves. Whether it's to get supplies or meet with a distant friend in town, the borrower doesn't care. They never leave the house. An opportunity like this isn't likely to come again soon. They quickly grab the bare minimum of supplies before leaving this wretched place, hopefully for good. It's still cold out, growing even colder as the sun hides under the treeline. Then, a new, more direct light replaces the warmth of the sun, this one providing no comfort. A flashlight. They failed, of course they did. Escaping into the forest in the middle of winter would have been a death wish even if they had made it far enough away without capture. But they hadn't been able to help themself. It had been so stifling living there, so suffocating. They look up into the blinding gleam, the knowledge of who was behind it making dread pool in their gut.
"I-" Their teeth clatter together in response to the extreme cold, "I missed you."
The lie won't work, they knew it wouldn't. The human picks them up without formality, slowly wading through the snow, back toward the house. They set them down roughly on a high shelf. They look mad, but also... genuinely hurt? The human paces back and forth while the borrower watches, for once, unsure of what to say. They don't know what could calm them down and what might set them off.
From the human's viewpoint, this makes no sense. The two of them were getting along. They had dropped the plan to reveal them, they were being nice, being gentle. Sure, there were times where they noticed an odd flinch or fearful look or the borrower tensing when the human initiated contact, but that was all to be expected for such a timid thing. The poor creature must have just been confused, yes, that's the best explanation. They had left the moment they were out of the human's sight, so clearly they need more attention, a bit more structure perhaps.
After that day, the human doesn't yell or berate them, concerned that it may only stress their companion further. They are much more clingy, rarely putting the borrower down when not strictly necessary. Once enough time has passed and their behavior has remained consistently vigilant, the borrower works themself up to directly request more freedoms–that they be set down, wanting a bit of alone time. The human smiles sadly, reminding them, "You know why we can't do that". They are still kind to the borrower, as much as you can be kind to someone you've been holding against their will. There's something unspoken underlying their confinement now. They stare at the bedroom ceiling at night, still unable to stop themself from tensing at the echo of deep breaths next to them. It's then that the borrower starts to think that maybe trying to imprint with something so starved of touch and attention was not the best idea.
I like a character needing to bluff their way through a situation. Having absolutely no means of protection or retaliation, so they rely on(possibly very unconvincing) words.
Human works at a lab where a giant is being kept. The human has been the giant's main “handler” through the process and, though the relationship between the two is nowhere near positive, the human has gotten a lot more comfortable around the experiment, given the safeguards in place. This human is the only one to ever really enter the enclosure unguarded, being viewed as more disposable than the higher up scientists on board. One day, unexpectedly, the power goes out, back-up generators be damned, while the human is alone in the experiment's enclosure. They aren't close enough to the door to just slip out, they'll have to go past the giant to reach it. Now that the shock collar isn't working and their restraints are looser, going into this enclosure seems like a lot less of a good idea in hindsight. But the giant doesn't know that yet, or that's what they'll have to hope at least.
Despite their best efforts to remain calm, the human slips up somehow, whether the giant can hear their quickened heartbeat or feel the nervousness radiating off of them as they make for the door. Before they can reach the other end of the room, a hand has been draped in front of their only exit.
“What do you think you're doing?” They try to keep their voice firm, authoritative.
The giant doesn't move, eyes staring lazily back at their handler.
“Do you enjoy being sedated? Is that why you're pulling this little stunt? Because, I can assure you, the consequences for this outburst won't be pretty.”
The threats gave them away more than anything, the aggression only revealing weakness. Without the comfort of an armory as back-up, the giant can finally see them as so small, so fragile. The human panics as a hand reaches to not-so-gently pluck them off of the ground and it's… funny. The most entertaining thing the giant's seen in years now. The fact that they were ever intimidated by someone so trivial seems almost laughable. The human has the benefit of being the only person the giant has interacted with for who knows how long and, despite their better judgement, they've grown a bit attached. They won't kill the human, not right away at least. Though, they certainly won't be letting them go either. Why should they after everything?
With the central power down and their restraints easily snapped when not coursing with electricity, they will be leaving tonight. And they'll be taking their least favorite human with them.
Transmasc fairy passing out and their friend panicking. They're hurt and the garment constricting their torso isn't helping them take deep breaths. The friend doesn't want to just leave the binder on, the design doesn't just constrict their chest, but the base of their wings a bit as well. The friend knows from past experience that the fairy has likely already had it on for too long and leaving it could not only cause trouble breathing and rib damage, but really bad wing spasms as well. But they can't take it off even if they wanted to, it's too tight and their fingers just can't catch onto it. It's the first time they've felt so helpless in the relationship, they can't do anything to help without potentially hurting the fairy worse. So they desperately rattle their little friend, hoping that they wake up sooner rather than later.
Jekyll and Hyde type of experiment except the personality harboring all the repressed emotions/urges is tiny. They can still try to do thievery and murder and all that, but it is significantly less threatening.
The entire thing is a win for the "Jekyll" personality because they get to harmlessly release all those buried passions at night while playing the part of a perfectly normal and respectable person by day. That is until the point in the story where they start unpredictably switching back and forth without the use of a potion
