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Sandwiched (Tiny PoV)

The power has gone out, and it’s freezing. The brothers help you keep warm.

Please yap about the recent Isabelle and the Lads chapter I can’t wait for her to realize how much her leaving them hurt the lads + maybe in the near future she hangs out with them again!

🤩🤩🤩

Yap session under the cut because I am LONG WINDED and I care about the quality of yalls dashboards <3

ghostwrittenmadness

pov: there’s a new video series going viral about the condensing and ur watching the first video

photoncovet

Give me a story about borrower children disobeying their parents and playing with the human’s miniatures. The human craftsman noticing and after investigating starting to build toys and playground sets.

They don’t try to meet or “catch” the children but every day they are excited to see whether their builds have been used or not and to add more details. When they’re asked about the sudden obsession with crafting playgrounds and toys they shrug and say “I just felt they were necessary to build”

lemonlovestowrite

—Alright, bet!

Lost and Found

⋆.𐙚 ̊

At exactly six o’clock that morning, the lights inside the shop flicked on.

Whilst tying the apron that acted as his self-appointed work uniform around himself, the craftsman walked through the curtained doorframe that separated the residential side of the building from the front. His heavy-soled shoes clacked across the hardwood floors as the burly man passed by shelves upon shelves of his beloved creations; ranging from entire houses to individually carved chairs and teacups.

And yet, out of every miniature the man had ever constructed, there was one shelf in that shop that he made sure to check on each and every morning. It was a favorite, per say, though it notably was not his, nor his customers.

Like clockwork, he approached the aforementioned shelf, eyeing the most recent pieces up and down in a mental game of spot the difference. The amount of squinting being done required him to readjust his glasses a few times as they attempted to escape down the bridge of his nose, but it had all been worth it. Because what he seemed to witness so often lately never failed to bring a warm feeling to his chest and bright smile to his face.

On the third shelf up from the bottom, the slide he’d placed down just last week had since been worn down the middle, where its blue color became noticeably lighter. There were also metal scratches around the knotches where the swing set’s chains had been attached, the kind you get from doing just that—swinging back and forth on it. Other pieces of equipment had been altered in much the same way; items not left in the same place he’d put them, springs worn and ropes run taut.

The leftmost swing set, most of all, appeared to have significantly more wear and tear on it than the others he had attempted to build. Notably, it was the only one suspended by braided twine ‘rope’ instead of the usual metal chains used for jewelry and the like.

Despite having been involved in this particular craft for over a decade, there were about as many new things to learn as there were objects in the world, thus there was always something the craftsman did not quite know how to make. Playgrounds and toys were undeniably on that list when this whole affair had started some weeks ago, and it had certainly been… something of a wake-up call, to put it mildly.

He made a mental note to himself to use more braided twine from now on. Perhaps he’d even try purchasing some colored variations. Kiddos enjoyed colorful things, didn’t they? He could only hope the same applied to presumably non-human children as well, as the man wrapped up his investigation with a quick dusting off of his hands still in the quiet hours of the morning, long before the shop had to open.

He already knew today was going to be a slow day. The shop area was small, located along a length of several others all packed together like sardines. Not to mention his craft was certainly not an ordinary one, and so the bulk of purchases he received were typically specialized orders rather than the typical walk-in customer.

Nevertheless, the craftsman had become newly aware that he was hardly ever alone in the shop. Just as well as he’d deduced that this was information which he should not have been privy to. If the way they ran and hid in his presence was any indication. Then again, the man could hardly bring himself to call them ‘subtle’ in their attempt to hide their presence from him. Ah, kids.

He was just about to rise to a stand from his admittedly awkward crouch, when all of a sudden, something unfamiliar caught the man’s attention. Obscured underneath one of the bench seats, which was such a tight spot that he genuinely had to go wander in the back for a moment to grab himself a spare pair of tweezers, was a pink ribbon. The sort of thing worn in somebody’s hair, and yet—“good lord,” he breathed—the thing was smaller than his thumbnail.

After a second or two, the initial wide-eyed realization had softened into a tender sense of recognition; any remaining tension leaving him through a small, humored sigh. Then, with the same amount of care taken to retrieve it, the craftsman wordlessly placed the lost item on top of the bench it had fallen under, with the hope that whoever it belonged to would have an easier time finding it that way.

It wasn’t as though he intended to catch them in the act, or meet these tiny, young, mysterious admirers of his creations. To be completely honest, their enjoyment of his work gave the man about as much joy as he reckoned it made them. What a gift it was to know that this silly hobby-turned-career of his was indeed making someone else happy, and how incredibly lucky he was to have such direct feedback on his work.

In some ways, he had begun feeling like a younger man himself, dreaming up colors and playing around with new ideas in his head. The latest on his mind was the idea of trying to recreate a functioning merry-go-round in miniature, which he’d been thinking about basing off one from his own childhood, like so many of the other playground pieces were. Thing was, the physics required to achieve that level of mobility was, as of yet, entirely out of his wheelhouse.

Fortunately, the craftsman knew just who to call in times like these.

Calloused fingers drummed mindlessly on the glass surface of the front counter, where the apron-adorned figure sat leaned back in a chair his own size with the shop phone hugged up against his ear. With each passing ring, more details stood out in his mind regarding things he might need to add to this current project or tweak in some the older ones according to the ‘feedback’ he’d received last night.

Finally, the line clicked, the voice of a very tired and surely yet-to-be-caffeinated woman chiming in. “Mornin’, Lenny,” she yawned. “This another question about your seesaws?”

The smell of fresh baked goods had been drifting in from the shop next door for several hours at this point, so he figured she must’ve gotten up even earlier than he had to prepare for morning rush.

He fumbled awkwardly with the phone a moment, the beginnings of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Ah— no, actually, those turned out fine. Thanks again for the assist, by the way.” It was the best he could admit to without openly confessing that his mysterious new customers hadn’t been interested in that particular build at all. He tried not to let the disheartened tone in his voice show through before continuing.

“I wanted to ask you about spinners. Have you got a minute?”

There was an audible sigh on the other end, sounding a bit more fond than exhausted. “Of course you do. And yah, I have got, just ask away. Wait, actually—“ she cut him off before he could speak, her voice lowering and growing hushed, acting as though she were about to breach a potentially sensitive subject.

“What’s with the sudden obsession with playground equipment?” She caved. “I mean, I’ve known ya to go through a phase or two, but this is serious if you’re willin’ to listen to me yap about pivots and motion for the better half of an hour.”

“Now hold on,” he chuckled to himself, “I asked for a minute, not an hour. But yes, I suppose I…” the craftsman found himself trailing off, his thoughts drifting to the lost ribbon he had held so briefly in his hand. “I just felt they were necessary to build,” he answered after a pause, shrugging his shoulders casually before realizing the other person couldn’t see him.

This, apparently, was not as satisfying a response as the baker was hoping for. He could practically hear her pinching her forehead together through the speaker. “Whatever you say, Len,” she then leisurely agreed, clearly unconvinced but willing to let her curiosity go for now.

“Thanks, Cheri,” he hummed sweetly back at her. “Now, spinners: how do they make ‘em?”

The phone call had been immeasurably helpful, and the craftsman had taken to work as soon as it was over. Meanwhile, the miniatures shop had opened and closed with about the anticipated amount of customers, though an order or two had been placed later in the evening that he would have to get an early start on that night to be ready in time for tomorrow’s pickup.

Undeterred by any of such paying customers, the man was far too excited to ‘test out’ his new creation, and thus opted to take his work upstairs for the night, flicking the lights off as usual as he finished locking the place up. Wishful thinking told him that this one would turn out a lot better than the seesaw had.

With one last peek at the shelf, assuring that everything there had been neatly arranged, the craftsman hung up his apron and disappeared behind the curtained door from which he came in, his shoes clacking up the stairs noisily until the kids were certain he was gone.

That’s when they went in.

“Shh!” One kid, no more than eight or nine years old, urged to her friend with a finger shoved harshly to her lips. “You don’t want our parents catching us, do you, Simon?!”

The small light attached to her hip bounced and spun with the girl’s energetic movements as the group made their way through the pitch dark corridor of the walls. It wouldn’t be much longer until this lesser-traveled path led them toward a slight crack in the walls, just the right height and width for a person no greater than four or so inches to pass through.

“Nuh-uh!” Simon muttered back, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff. Then remarking under his breath, “…I’m not the one who left something behind, anyway…”

The girl gasped in shock, a hand placed dramatically against her chest as if to illustrate the figurative stab to her heart. “Oh my god I am so going to murder you!” She faux-whispered through a set of gritted teeth. “For real!”

“Both of you are going to wind up killed by that human if you don’t stay quiet,” another girl, the oldest of the group at a proud twelve years of age, silenced the two bickering kids. “And aren’t you supposed to be leading the way, Vi? Do you want me to take the—“

Instinctively, Violet whipped the light out of the older girl’s reach, turning to walk backwards just to cast her a pouting glare. “No way! You said I could take it this time, so I’m taking it. Back off,” she finished with a second flourished spin, facing the front again before running up ahead of the group.

With a half tired, half annoyed sigh, she felt a light tug at the hem of her shirt. Beside her stood her younger brother, practically adjoined to her hip, who their parents were actively convinced she was simply ‘watching’ at home while they were off on a borrowing trip elsewhere in the adjoining bakery.

“Emmie?” He whispered timidly up at her. “Is there really a human out there?”

The six year old’s round brown eyes were wide with worry, being at an age where the most he’d heard of humans were the stories and cautionary tales their parents had told him. Without missing a beat, his sister promptly ruffled his hair in her palm, causing his hand to retract and the front to fall messily into his eyes; blowing it away from his face as he continued to peer up at her.

“Obviously not,” she declared, a bit too confidently for her own liking. Not that she would let that part show. “Why else do you think we go this late? It’s so we don’t run into any nasty, evil humans.”

Her brother shrugged once, followed by an incoherent noise of “I’unno” while his gaze shifted back down to the floor. The kid began fidgeting nervously with his hands. “Isn’t it weird that there’s a whole playground for borrowers lying around, then?”

Emmie blinked in surprise, her pace slowing just enough that someone further up ahead turned to glance at her, ushering her forward again. “Uhh, well… yeah,” she admitted, both to herself and to him. “It is weird. Guess it’s lucky we discovered it then, right?”

With that, Violet’s light vanished ahead of them into the crack in the wall, signaling to the rest of the group that they’d arrived at last.

The very first thing that caught pretty much everyone’s attention upon exiting the walls was the strange, brand new structure sitting idly just a few feet away. Immediately, three or more kids ran off to go try it, already arguing on the way about how the thing might work.

Violet, on the other hand, wore a stunned expression on her face for an entirely different reason.

“My ribbon!” She exclaimed, an air of confusion evident even in her overwhelming relief. Dropping the light on the ground with a distant “hey!” from Emmie, the younger girl jogged straight up to the bench she’d been sitting on last night.

All at once she recounted the chill that had gone down her spine once Simon pointed out to her that her favorite hair ribbon was missing. The scolding from Emmie, the crying to her parents, the lying about where she might’ve dropped it and the dread that she had probably doomed their secret nighty recesses forever.

Yet tonight, there it was, as perfectly unharmed as they all were. She wanted to squeal with happiness and tear up all over again.

Quicker than anything, Violet tied the pink hairpiece back into her long, auburn colored hair, feeling the familiar weight of it with a smile that could outmatch the sun.

“See?” Some older kid called to her from close by, though she was far too busy smiling to herself to care who it was. “Told you it wasn’t gone forever.” Their voice grew farther away as they added, “why don’t you come try out the new spinny thing with us?!”

Instead, Violet plopped herself down onto the bench seat, swinging her legs out in front of her to emphasize her unwillingness to move. “No thank you, I’m good,” she replied, still grinning brightly as the kid left with a soft grunt of acceptance and hurried off to the slide.

Tonight, she was feeling far too relieved to have to lie to her parents again. Maybe she’d tell them simply that she found it exactly where she lost it. They’d probably roll their eyes and chide her about not being careful, or tell another tragic tale about the dangerous humans that stalked outside the walls.

But Violet knew better, she figured. Because late last night the girl had bolted upright in her bed, remembering exactly where she’d left the thing and feeling incredibly guilty over having possibly condemned her and everyone else’s families to a death so alike those tragic tales she’d heard.

Until a human, of all things, had given it back to her; put it right in her line of sight where they knew she would spot it. Something that made her curiosities absolutely soar.

With the whole world on her mind, Violet watched the show. A kid even younger than Emmie’s little brother had been placed in the center of the newest structure, while three of the older kids spun them around, chanting their name through bursts of playfully mischievous laughter. “I-an, I-an, I-an,” until the kid grew dizzy and had to get off.

“My turn!”

“How fast do you think this’ll go?”

“Hey, give that back, it was mine first—“

“—race you there!”

Young, squeaky voices layered over one another, giggling and squealing with their very best ‘quiet voices’ on, all the while the craftsman upstairs was busy pretending not to notice the commotion in the slightest.

neapolitanicecreamsandwich

(this mini comic is split into multiple parts because of the Tumblr image limit 💔💔 sorry for spamming the tags gang)

Pt. 1

ghostwrittenmadness

do you guys ever think about the fact that in another universe they’re just some college kids :(

sleepergent

CEASE this bullying, here's a sneak peek....

mr sleepergent trying and failing to render, lets all point and laugh

omyrahwrites

Devon's Secret (Tiny PoV)

(A/N: This is an introduction to my OC, Devon, who I've had since the early 2010's, the age when the G/t community was primarily on DeviantArt. The scenario here is one I've wanted to write about for a while. What happens when you, a G/t enjoyer, discover that your crush has the ability to sizeshift, and they find out that you like it? It's a best-case-scenario for a G/t fan to reveal such a vulnerable part of themselves. Also, this one is long at 5,644 words! Art at the end is by therealhearts and I have been given permission to repost it here. This is ridiculously self-indulgent, but I hope you all enjoy anyway!)

omyrahwrites

Handheld (Giant PoV)

Your hand is comfortable.

You know the struggles this tiny being before you has faced. Everything is dangerous to them, but most dangerous are people when they don't know what their intentions are. If they trusted the wrong person, you shudder to think of how easily they could hurt them in so many ways. This is why it astonishes you that they’ve chosen you as the one they trust the most.

Not that you’d hurt them, of course. That you might accidentally do something like that has given you nightmares, but they don’t seem to think that would ever be the case. As you sit and watch them, you stretch out your arm toward them and offer them your hand, an invitation to them. You keep it still as they approach, your heart fluttering as they immediately climb on, like it wasn’t even a decision they had to make to do so.

You feel their cold little hands making contact with yours, your fingers twitching as they do. It’s a reaction you tried to fight back once, worried that they would think you were about to grab them before they told you that it didn’t bother them. They said it was nice to see a reaction like that, to know that they affected you in the various ways that they did. So, you let your hand react as you feel their weight crawl towards and settle in your palm.

You know at this point you would be safe to pick them up, but you don’t. Instead, you simply hold them as they are, a grin on your face as you watch them so fondly. This minuscule being puts their life into your hands, quite literally, on a regular basis, but you still sometimes have to stop yourself from going through the motions. You need to make sure you take none of this for granted, that you recognize how important it is that they trust you so much.

You also don’t want to just skip over small moments like this, giving yourself the opportunity to just enjoy how they feel sitting in your hand. You love that they enjoy this as much as you do, it makes it easier to feel less guilty when you want attention from them. You don’t even need to pick them up to just hold them like this, they’re already being held, and you see them begin to take advantage of the fact that you haven’t lifted them just yet.

You feel warmth in your chest as they begin to lay down, watching them curl themselves up right in the middle of your hand. Their head rests just below your fingers, taking advantage of that soft, plush section of your hand to cushion it. They relax completely, and you know the warmth you offer them is something they cherish, and that they can be warmed in such a special way in the first place.

You know how much vulnerability this kind of situation puts them in, even more so in this particular position, and you marvel at the amount of trust and confidence they have in you to keep them safe. They cozy themselves right up against you, and you know your world is all the richer for having them in your life. Despite how small they are, they matter so much to you, and it’s so important to you that they can seek comfort and safety from you like this.

You curl your fingers inward in a bid to make them feel less exposed, to protect them from every threat possible, even though you know none exist at this very moment. You have such an ample opportunity to hold them, and you’re going to enjoy every moment of it. They smile as they nuzzle their face against the soft surface they’re snuggled on, and you watch them close their eyes. There’s no greater trust that they can place in you than that, making themselves entirely dependent on you for safety, knowing without a doubt that you won’t do anything to betray that trust.

They look so happy, so content and relaxed, and you can’t help but want to interact with them a little. Sure, you have them laying in the palm of your hand, but you know they’ll appreciate this gesture. You bring your other hand over, curling your index finger inward and gently brush it across the side of their body. You feel their sharp inhale as you make contact, waiting for the release of that breath that you know is coming. And there it is, a slow exhale as they simultaneously melt under your touch.

Your heart warms as they make themselves so comfortable in your hand. They’re very clearly enjoying this, and you are too. You chuckle quietly, hoping not to disturb them too much as you speak softly to them.

“Look at you…”

As warm and happy as your tone is, you’re unable to hide a hint of bewilderment in your voice, still quite frankly, astonished that you two have made it this far from where you started. If you told yourself the first day you two met that you would end up like this, past-you would have laughed in your face. Nonetheless, here you are, and you’re not complaining at all.

As happy as you are to hold them like this, however, you feel the strain in your arm from holding it in the same position for so long. You pull your other hand away, wincing as you watch them deflate just slightly in disappointment, but you know you’ll be back at it before long.

For a moment longer, you think of the best place to sit to keep holding them like this for as long as they want you to. You then slowly lift your hand, smiling as you see that they don’t move at all, there’s no reaction to being picked up. They’re already cozy, and you know that they trust that you won’t drop them.

You make your way towards a lounge chair, making sure you keep your hand as still as possible to keep your tiny friend feeling safe to stay as they are. Approaching the chair, you slowly lower yourself down into it, bringing your hand close to you to watch them. They haven’t moved at all, and now you can ensure your arm is in as comfortable of a position as it can be for the duration of their stay in your hand, however long that may be.

Knowing now that not only are you holding them, but you now have them closer to you, relaxes you immensely. You don’t have to worry about anything as long as you’ve got them, you just need to make sure they’re comfortable and happy. Your breathing is even as you settle in, and you reach your other hand back over toward them to continue stroking them as you had been before.

You know that you’re a comforting presence for them as well, and that holding them like this gives them a feeling of security, of safety and reassurance. You will always be here if they need you for anything. Whether it’s to seek you out after a nightmare, or to simply be held and stroked exactly like this, you have no problem being that source of comfort for them.

You lean back and close your eyes, focusing on their minuscule weight in your palm, and their soft breaths on your skin indicating that they’ve dozed off. Every now and then they shift, and you feel like you can see their smile growing wider as they do.

They’re so small, but that doesn’t matter. They mean so much to you, and right now, as they doze and occasionally shift ever so slightly, you feel like you have your entire world in your hands, and you couldn’t be happier.

----

Tiny PoV

omyrahwrites

Handheld (Tiny PoV)

Hands are comfortable.

As someone no taller than 3.5 inches, hands are dangerous. Hands can grab, squeeze, crush, pull, or otherwise injure you so effortlessly. It’s been hard figuring out who’s hands you can trust, and who’s to stay very far away from. They’re also terrifying even without being in them. They’re imposing, threatening, chasing, all encompassing, and can be a petrifying sight when they’re headed right for you.

This hand, though, the one extended toward you, palm facing upward like a platform, is none of those things. It’s opened in an invitation, motionless and still as it rests in front of you, waiting. You trust the giant this hand belongs to with your life, showing no hesitation as you slowly climb up onto it.

Their skin is warm beneath you, a relief as it begins to seep into you the moment you make contact. Their fingers twitch ever so slightly as they feel your tiny hands on the surface of their hand, an acknowledgment of your presence, and nothing more. You make your way into the center of their palm, their hand being the only thing supporting you now.

They don’t lift you right away, however. Instead, their hand sits there and holds you as you are. You cast a curious glance upward, seeing them watch you with an enamored smile. You smile back, knowing what they’re thinking about without having to say anything. You’re so incredibly tiny in their hand, so light, so delicate and fragile, and they’re adoring seeing you just sitting there, relaxed and casual about all of this.

Given that they’re not moving, you decide to make yourself at home. Being cradled to their chest is wonderful, but sometimes just enjoying how it feels to be held like this is comforting as well. You lay yourself down, curling up in the dip of their palm and resting your head comfortably on the soft, padded section of their hand just below their fingers. You feel the expanse of warmth beneath you, snuggling in as you sigh deeply and eagerly embrace that warmth.

There’s something so special about how deeply you trust the giant watching over you, how easy of a decision it is to make yourself completely prone in their hand. If something were to happen, you’d have less reaction time to escape, but you know that would never happen. You are completely safe here.

You look up as their fingers curl in protectively, as though shielding you from all that could cause you harm. You smile and nuzzle against the soft surface you rest your head on, closing your eyes in the greatest display of trust in the giant that holds you. You feel a shift in movement, but not in the hand beneath you, and you sense a shadow approaching, yet you keep your eyes closed, knowing that they won’t hurt you.

Even still, you sharply inhale when you feel the back of a finger on their other hand brush slowly and softly over your side. You exhale slowly, letting yourself melt in their hand as they encourage you to relax further. You hear a quiet chuckle from them.

“Look at you…”

Their voice bears warmth, happiness, and a hint of bewilderment, as though they still can’t believe you trust them this much. They continue to stroke you for a moment more before pulling away. You immediately miss their touch, but it’s not long before something else happens.

You feel the motion of them finally lifting you up, and you don’t move at all. There’s no urge to hold onto them, no wariness as to where they might be moving you, no fear that they’ll drop you, and no concern about what they’ll do to you. You simply lie still as you are, letting them bring you wherever they want.

They then stand to their feet, and the motion of them walking soothes you further. It’s not long before you feel a dropping sensation as they sit down. You don’t know where they are, and you don’t really care. You’re happy here, they don’t seem interested in putting you down, and that’s all that matters.

You do, however, know that you’re closer to them, now. You can feel their presence towering over you. You know just how massive they are without opening your eyes, and it comforts you further. You hear them breathing, slow, smooth, content. If they’re stressed, you can hear it, but right now they’re just as calm and soothed as you are.

It heartens you to know that despite how small you are, how perfectly you fit in their hand, you still bring them plenty of comfort. You know that being able to keep you close like this brings them a sense of security, they know that as long as they have you, nothing will happen to you.

Once again, you feel their other hand approach, and their finger brushes against you. This time, however, their hand lingers close, and you know they’re in a position where they can keep both hands comfortable while holding you for however long you need or want.

You fall into a deep state of relaxation as time goes by, their attention never leaving you as they stroke your side much more slowly now. You don’t completely pass out, but every now and then you fall into a light doze… only to wake up a few minutes later, remember where you are, and smile as waves of warmth and comfort wash over you again.

miniscule-meow

Isabell and the Lads (19)

Word Count: 1.3k Master Post First Part | Last Part | Next Part

Isabell tries to focus on the movie, she really does. It’s just that the couch they had made for her is on the coffee table, completely out in the open, and directly in front of the humans. So, when the movie starts it feels like the humans are just watching her. She has this jittery urge to check over her shoulder every few minutes.

She knows she can trust them, they’ve more than proven that, but turning your back on a human like this is something that you simply don’t do. That’s something that’s been deeply engrained in her; it’s not something that just goes away. Even still, she does her very best to just ignore it.

luna-azzurra

Hurt / Comfort Prompts!!!

⋆˚✿˖° "You don't have to be okay right now. You don't have to be anything right now."

⋆˚✿˖° "When did you last eat. And water doesn't count and neither does coffee."

⋆˚✿˖° "I've got you. You're safe. I've got you."

⋆˚✿˖° "Stop apologizing for needing things. Stop it right now."

⋆˚✿˖° "You called me at 2am and I came. That's not something I did out of obligation. I want you to understand that."

⋆˚✿˖° "Lay down. I'm not asking."

⋆˚✿˖° "You've been holding this alone for how long. How long have you been holding this alone."

⋆˚✿˖° "I'm going to sit right here. You don't have to talk. I'm just going to be here."

⋆˚✿˖° "When did taking care of yourself become something you had to earn."

⋆˚✿˖° ⟢ "You're shaking." - "I'm fine." - "You're shaking and you've been crying and you're not fine and that's okay."

⋆˚✿˖° "I'm not leaving. You can ask me to leave and I still won't. You're stuck with me tonight."

⋆˚✿˖° "Has anyone ever just — taken care of you. Without needing something back." - "..." - "That's what I thought. Come here."

⋆˚✿˖° "You scared me. I need you to know you scared me and I need you to never do that again."

⋆˚✿˖° "I heated up the leftovers. You're going to eat them. We can fight about everything else tomorrow."

⋆˚✿˖° "Stop being brave for one second. Just one second. It's just me."

⋆˚✿˖° "I noticed you weren't okay three weeks ago. I've been trying to figure out how to say something."

⋆˚✿˖° "You don't have to explain it. You don't owe me an explanation. Just tell me what you need."

⋆˚✿˖° "Nobody should have to go through that. I know you did. I'm so sorry you did."

⋆˚✿˖° "Close your eyes. I'll stay until you fall asleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

⋆˚✿˖° "You keep saying you're fine and your hands keep shaking and I need you to pick one."

⋆˚✿˖° "I made your tea the way you like it." - "You remembered." - "I remember everything about you."

⋆˚✿˖° "You were there for me when I had nothing. Did you really think I wasn't going to show up for you."

⋆˚✿˖° "Rest. The world can wait. It's waited before. Rest."

miniscule-meow

Charlie & Felix: Completely Mundane

Word Count: 1.5k

Master Post

First Part | Last Part | Next Part

“Felix?” Her voice calls out into the clearing as she steps through the trees. She finds him sitting on a rock, elbows against his knees, head down. He doesn't look up when she approaches.

“Hey, you good?” She sets her bag down by a tree and sits next to him on the rock. “I'm sorry I guess I sort of caused a-”

“I'm not in the fucking mood right now, Beauregard.” He snaps at her saying her name like it’s an insult.

Oh.

Right. He went to Rosehill, so he knows her brothers. Apparently, he’s not a fan.

Suddenly, she isn't 'Charlie' anymore. She's a Beauregaurd. She thought that things could work out differently this time. If she could just get to know someone first, she could be more than her name.

Obviously, she was wrong.

evieismol

Big Bend - Chapter 15: Movies: The Sequel

cw: some angst, mention of male models exploding (theyre watching zoolander), giant worried about hurting tinies (doesn't happen), cursing

word count: 1776

previous chapter

Easton's POV

I was only half paying attention to the movie. Maybe a bit less than half, actually - my mind kept floating back down to the small forms sitting on my desk. The small people sitting on my desk. I wasn't sure if I'd ever fully get used to how small humans were. The fact that all three of them could have sat on my laptop's keyboard and still had room to spare exemplified their tiny size.

cappycappy2by4

half a comic thing i was scribbling last ngiht

cappycappy2by4

the perfectionist in me hates this style but the part of me that wants to get better at art says js post it so whatevaa

tea-potato-gt

A Borrower at the End of the World part 30: Cat got your Tongue?

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Word count: 3200ish

Warning: talk of previous body mutilation, swearing, abuse, dehumanization, and psychosis. (AN: Oof)

***

Now…

Dark. Cramped. Cold.

The walls Briar traversed day in and day out felt suffocating to a man who had spent his last couple of decades roaming the outside world freely. He felt stifled, forced to stay in a place that constantly set him on edge. It was a nightmare house crawling with beans. Soldiers. Maids. Townspeople. Who knew how many were here at any given moment. For what purpose or for how long?

It wasn’t safe to travel on the floors. Walking on mantel tops and climbing tables in the light of day wasn’t an option either. The borrower was forced to navigate the dark, complex maze withing the walls of the mansion.

If it was just himself that he worried for, he would have left as soon as he arrived. Go from house to house until he either found someplace safe to hide or a tiny crack in the exterior wall and made a break for it.

Unfortunately, with Jace and Layla, he didn’t have that option.

Living with two humans who were constantly aware of his presence had made Briar soft. He had to relearn a lot of his bean detecting instincts that were still waking up from hibernation. He had almost been caught a few times in the past few weeks by soldiers and those maids running rampant through out the mansion.

Yes, weeks.

Briar and the kids had been living under this oppressive roof for too long. Even when they were traveling, Briar didn’t like to stay in one place for this long. Layla was still being forced to go to school, coming home crying every other day. That was bad enough, but something was wrong with her. More than her usual crying or being upset. It had been a while since Briar had heard more than a sob from her throat, and he was becoming increasingly concerned as the weeks went by.

Jace would come back from boot camp looking utterly exhausted, but he said the days were getting easier as he grew more used to the training. He even managed to make a couple of friends. Than bean-girl Hannah didn't seem so bad. Once or twice a week he was assigned to guard duty of the main gate, with a supervising officer, and they even let him help patrol the outer perimeter too. Briar intended to leave with him the next time Jace would be sent out on patrol, get a better idea of the mess they had gotten into. Though, Jace didn’t know that yet and hadn’t agreed to it. Briar figured it be better to tell him once they are outside.

The little man did his best to visit the kids when he could, but now that he had made it to the first floor, it was even more difficult and exhausting to find a way back upstairs to their bedroom. At this point, Briar hadn’t seen them in about five days, as he searched the various rooms for any signs of other borrowers.

Two days ago, he did see screws lined up along an outer wall like a ladder. Perfect for a borrower to climb leading to the top of a book shelf. Though it was old and breaking, that was good enough for Briar to keep looking on this side of the house, though it was the side soldiers and the General more than often occupied. Leading to too many close encounters with soldiers stomping about with their heavy boots.

All the chaos and stress and need for escape only made him all the more desperate to find any wall symbols or other borrowers that might help him get answers about this place and possible ways out.

Today, Briar entered a vast room through a rat hole at floor level beside a tall book shelf. The room had several red velvet chairs surrounding a grand mahogany wooden desk. The chair beside the desk looked like a king’s throne. The shelf beside him was stacked with books and a large mirror on the opposite wall.

Despite his better judgment, Briar left the safety of the walls to explore this new space. Based on the description Jace had given him, this was part of the forbidden wing of the mansion. The General’s office.

He walked away from the rat hole, giving him a clear view of the slightly ajar metal door leading to the hallway, with complicated locks, evidently there was information in here that General Monroe didn’t want anyone to find out. Perfect.

He knew he had ro be quick, a bean could come back at any moment.

He noticed a piece of paper laying on the elegant rug, apparently having fallen off the mahogany table at some point after a bean meeting. Briar couldn’t make heads or tales of the words, but he did recognize the images. A map, showing a birds eye view of the town. It would have more up to date information than any wall symbols, given it seemed the town surrounding the mansion was significantly new compared to the building at its heart. This paper was only a small portion of the map, showing a corner of the town. Briar looked up and spotted more sheets of paper on the desk above.

Taking out his hook, then swinging it into the air and catching on the side of the desk. He pulled to make sure it was steady before making his assent. Having recovered from his injuries by now made it much easier to travel and borrow in the mansion. Though he was getting on in age, leading to his bones creaking and aching at the most inconvenient times.

Making it to the top, he didn’t let himself rest before taking in the pieces of paper before him. The town expanded in all directions from the mansion at its heart, having been built around it. At the bottom, blue markings clearly defined the lake and a thick black block separated a stream from the large body of water. A dam. The human-beans built a dam, leading to the river becoming a lake. Both fortifying the south side and providing water to the entire town. Briar had to admit, he was impressed with the ingenuity.

The walls bordering the town ended abruptly beside the lake as if anticipating the water would be enough to deter anyone from escape or entrance.

Near the water, but still within the walls indicated food and crops, farm land. Few bean made buildings occupied this map. Worst comes to worst, the kids and I could hide somewhere here and swim for freedom, Briar thought.

A soft gasp and shattering porcelain broke the silence of the room.

Briar turned pale and locked eyes with a woman standing not five feet from the desk on which he stood. A human-bean. There was nowhere to hide, nothing but the maps on which he stood.

Neither moved, taking the other in.

The woman had dropped the tea set she had been carrying upon seeing the borrower. One of the cups had shattered and tea was quickly seeping into the intricate rug, staining it. But she never took her eyes off the borrower.

He recognized her as one of the maids who had been taking care of the children, but he knew that grace would not extend to someone like himself.

The woman was the first one to move, she pinched the skin on the back of her hand and closed her eyes. Blinking and squeezing her eye lids as if trying to wake herself from a dream. She did this several times, even holding her breath at one point.

She finally opened her eyes and focused on the borrower. A gasp escaped her slightly parted mouth as her bottom lip quivered. Her eyes began to water, she was almost to the point of tears.

Briar went from terrified to utterly confused. What did he do to possibly make her cry?

Before they could stare at each other any longer, heavy boots were heard marching down the hall. Jolting both the borrower and bean out of their stupor.

More human-beans.

In a flash, the maid reached down and grabbed the tea pot, still leaking liquid onto the rug, and ran towards the desk Briar stood upon. She was too fast.

She’s about to kill me. Mash my bones with ceramic porcelain. Or trap me. Deliver me to the other beans to be interrogated. I’m not sure which would be a worse fate.

The tea pot was coming down like a fist from the heavens. He closed his eyes, preparing for the worst, but instead of hitting Briar, she slammed the tea pot down in front of him.

He looked up at the bean in utter astonishment, but was met with the sight of her back. Not only was the tea pot there hiding him from sight, but she put herself between him and whoever was on the other side of the door.

“And that is why you have to be tougher on your recruits, Sergeant.”

A chill ran up Briar’s spine. He recognized that voice and venom filled his veins. He instinctively grasped the needle at his hip.

“I’d say I have to disagree with you, Colonel.” Another voice Briar recognized, Drill Sergeant Brown. Jace’s officer. “I find being strict is important, but showing compassion and respect for their abilities can be just as crucial.”

The third soldier, who Briar didn’t recognize, scoffed. “You’re definitely too soft, Brown.”

To Briar’s dismay, these three beans entered the room. Colonel Johansen, Drill Sergeant Brown, and the third man towered over the human-bean woman. The human shield before him was ridged, yet she didn’t move as the men came closer.

The other soldier raised an eyebrow and took in the state of the room and woman standing ridged in front of the desk, “what are you doing, girl? Get a move on, clean up this mess.”

The maid shook her head.

“Mel. That was a direct order. Move.” The Colonel said. The maid stared daggers at him. He gritted his teeth, irked at her defiance, but watched her for a moment. Then his demeanor changed, a ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, that made Briar shiver. “Don’t tell me you started hearing voices, seeing things again?”

Mel scowled indignantly.

“I understand the doctor recently cut back on your medication, but you couldn’t have relapsed that quickly.”

“She hears voices sir?” Sergeant Brown quirked an eyebrow. “Her?” He emphasized that word as if to say ‘are you kidding me?’

“Yes, voices. And she sees things that aren’t there.” The Colonel reveled in how uncomfortable the room got. “She may look all sweet and innocent, aren’t the most dangerous of them usually are? She’s the schizophrenic savage who gave me this.” He followed the path of the scar that went from his chin to his eye.

The other men balked. Looking from the short young woman to the terrifying officer. To think that she was the one to lay a hand on him was almost absurd.

Mel didn’t deny it. Her mouth stayed shut as she stared at the men before her. Briar noticed the white knuckled grip she had on the table.

“How?” The third soldier asked. “How did she…”

“Well, it was about three years ago,” Johansen tapped his chin. “This mansion was the home of the Perkins family. Very wealthy, old money and all that.” As the Colonel spoke, he made casual strides about the small room. Moving it like a vulture about to feast. Never taking his eyes off Mel. She didn’t break eye contact either. “Ernest and I had been chasing a pack of Razors for a few days, but unfortunately, they had broken into the Perkins mansion, killing almost everyone. Luckily for the one surviver, I was there to rescue her.”

Mel sneered at his words. A growl started in her throat, so quiet that only Briar could make it out.

“I found her in the kitchen, screaming about some… oh, what was it?” He snapped his fingers trying to jog the memory. “A hammer? Hazelnuts? Or was it Honey?”

Mel bristled at the sound of that last word on his lips.

“Anyway, she was trying to claw her way into a tiny hole in the wall, probably hoping to crawl inside and hide like a rat. I grabbed her, trying to save her life, may I remind you, and she slashed my face with a fucking butcher knife.” The Colonel only paused his stride to take in his fellow soldiers' shocked faces. He turned his cold eyes to the woman, “what? Not going to defend yourself, Mel?” He smirked, “Cat got your tongue?”

Mel all but turned red with blind rage, she let out an audible, guttural growl from her throat. Making the Colonel smile wider. The other two men took a weary step back.

“That’s awful,” Sergeant Brown said.

“Oh, it wasn’t all bad.” Johansen had finally finished his vulture swoop around the room and was almost beside her. “Why don’t you step forward and show these fine men what I gave you in return?”

She stumbled back against the table, shaking it and tried to turn around, but it was too late. Briar backed up against the tea kettle, closing his eyes to wait out the shaking world around him. An oppressive shadow overtook the desk.

The Colonel grabbed her face, forcing her jaw open with his fingers. “Look,” Johansen said as he turned her open mouth to the other men.

A gasp escaped the third soldier, “… H-her tongue."

“You cut out her tongue?” Sergeant Brown’s eyes darkened as he watched Mel try to wrench herself out of the man’s oppressive grip. “You mutilated another human being?!”

“Oh please, she ‘mutilated’ me first! Plus, she is less than human. We are now looking at the shell of a woman, who could have inherited a dynasty of wealth driven to insanity when her family was killed. We even took her house and used it as our base. And yet after all that, she chose to stay. Why is that my dear?” He turned her to face him, squeezing her jaw harder

Mel began to cry out in pain. She was shaking, the humiliation was too much. She would have tried to cover her mouth, hide the gaping hole the muscle once occupied, but she refused to let go of the desk.

“Sir, you’re hurting her–” Sergeant Brown stepped forward.

“Stand down soldier.” Colonel Johansen said, “I’m just showing you how to properly teach a lesson–– Ow!”

Mel bit his hand while he was distracted, forcing the large man to let go of her face. He pushed her back against the desk, she let out a brief cry, but kept her grip on the desk.

“Why you insolent, little snake! Apparently I didn’t teach you well enough the first time—“ he raised his hand as if preparing to strike her across the cheek.

Briar almost cried out for the giant to—

“Stop!” Sergeant Brown attempted to grab his superior's arm, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Mel flinched, bracing herself against the desk.

“That’s enough Johansen.” A deep voice spoke, commanding attention. Everyone froze.

Colonel Johansen straightened up, saluting the General. The other two men followed suit.

“I would appreciate it if you do not harm my staff any more than you already have.” General Monroe strided into the room with the confidence of owning the place, which he did. “Are you alright, Mel?”

She quickly nodded, not looking up at him. Her arms and legs shook with adrenaline and anxiety.

“I think we should leave her here alone, sir,” Sergeant Brown suggested.

“Very well, shall I send for Annie to help you clean this mess?” The General turned back to Mel, who shook her head. General Monroe grunted before looking at his subordinates, “We’ll discuss your reassignment in the mirror room, Johansen.”

Mel and Briar perked up at the same time. Reassignment, what is that supposed to mean? Briar thought.

Three of the men left.

Sergeant Brown stayed behind, “Are you alright?” He offered Mel a hand. She ignored it, refusing to meet his gaze. “Right, dumb question.” He sighed. “I do apologize, Miss Perkins, he shouldn’t treat you that way.”

She lifted her head slightly at the name she had long since stopped using. Tears welling in her eyes.

Sergeant Brown reached down and began to pick up the broken pieces of ceramic and set them on the tea tray. “If I can offer any comfort, Miss Perkins, The colonel will be leaving in two days for another razor hunt down south.” He looked up at her and for the first time, her eyes met his. Almost hopeful. “He could be gone for a couple weeks or a few months. We aren’t sure, but at least you won’t have to be scared in your family home for the time being.” He held the trey out to her.

She hesitated before slowly prying her hands from the desk, still covered in sweat and shaking slightly. She took the trey, before setting it on the table slightly away from Briar.

Sergeant Brown tipped his hat to her in return and took his leave. Closing the door behind him.

Silence returned to the room, but fear permeated the space. Briar was alone with the bean who had just protected him, to her own detriment and pain. He was at a loss for words as he watched the titanic woman before him sink slowly to the floor as her legs finally gave in to their shaking, weakened state.

She seemed so strong a moment ago, a woman protecting him from three men bigger than even herself. Now, it felt as if Briar hit her hard enough, she might shatter.

“I…” Briar began but cut himself off when Mel flinched. She hesitantly turned, he was just above her head now as she crouched on the floor. Her eyes were wide as if not entirely believing he was there. Briar gulped, “Thank you.”

Tears began to well once again in her eyes, blurring her vision. She covered her mouth, stroking her lips in a calming gesture.

“I’m… sorry for causing you so much trouble.” Briar bowed in shame.

She shook her head before forcing a smile to her tear stained cheeks.

“Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

She paused. Pointing to the rat hole he had come from. (He was a little unsettled that she knew exactly where it was.) Before opening her mouth, “H-uuh-ey.” Her voice was weak and hoarse from unuse. “Ooo you o H-uuh-ey?”

Briar stared in confusion.

She let out a frustrated sigh, “H-uuh-ey?” She knew what she wanted to say, but her lack of tongue made it almost impossible. Being forced to approximate sounds to the best of her ability was still almost unintelligible. She shook her head, it wasn’t worth the hassle.

After a long pause, she whipped her tears and sat up, meeting Briar eye to eye. She pointed to the hole in the wall once again, gesturing with her head and eyes.

Briar squinted, “You– do you want me to leave?” Briar almost couldn’t believe it. When the kids found him, they never wanted him to go, now this bean was telling him to hit the road.

She nodded, ending with an affirmative grunt.

“I– okay.” he hesitated for a moment before taking out his hook and dropping the line to the floor below. He looked up at the bean and found her back was to him. She proceeded to clean the tea stains on the carpet, scrubbing with the cloth she kept in her apron. Leaving Briar to his own devices. As he scaled down the cliff, he noticed that he didn’t feel the familiar sensation of bean eyes staring at him. Layla loved to watch him climb even though he frequently asked her not to. He would sense her watching him. But now he felt nothing.

Briar touched the ground safely and retried his hook from the cliff. He cautiously backed away from the giantess before him, not taking his eyes off her. She never turned around, he could hear the soft sounds of sniffles as she whipped her eyes again.

Briar made it back to the bookshelf where the rat hole lay. Against his better judgment he called out to her, “Thank you again, ma’am.”

Her soft gaze turned to him, instantly finding him on the far away floor. Her smile did not meet her eyes as she nodded and began to stand up. She took hold of the tea tray, picking up the tea kettle that had shielded Briar from view just minutes ago. Setting the dirty rag on the tray before turning towards the door.

As she walked away, her shirt swung in her stride, revealing a little more of her leg. Her white sock had also fallen lower than the other and Briar noticed something black on the outside of her right ankle. He might have brushed it off as a mole or a birthmark, but its distinct silhouette made him do a double take.

Wait was that–

He was about to call out to her, but she had already made it across the floor to the exit on the other side, shutting the metal door behind her.

He shook his head. The stress and lack of sleep must have finally gotten to him. If he didn’t know any better, ge would have said it looked like a symbol.

***

Mel lore drop! (My poor baby girl has been through so much! 😭) Once upon a time, she was a wealthy heiress who had everything. Now reduced to a maid in her own family home. Mute and heavily medicated. Is she truly as insane as the Colonel claims she is? Why does she choose to stay here? What is holding her back?

💬 2 🔁 0 ❤️ 21 · New character sheets unlocked! · For my story “A Borrower at the end of the world!” (They are all human characters.) Jace

***

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omyrahwrites

Cuddle bug (Tiny PoV)

In which you’re offered something you deeply yearn for.

“You keep staring at me.”

Those words shake you out of your daydream, one you’d be embarrassed to admit is happening more frequently.

“Are you still afraid of me?”

Not necessarily, you think. You’d been staring at his hands, thinking about what it might feel like to be held by them. Ever since he discovered you and saved your life, he’s been exceptionally patient regarding you not wanting to be handled at all if possible. If it’s not possible, he tries to make it as quick and easy to adjust to as he can.

Given how incredibly gentle he is, you’ve not been minding it quite so much lately. In fact, you’ve been wondering to yourself what it might feel like for him to just hold you close, to cuddle you against his chest and let you lean against him…

You shake your head when you realize you’re at it again, and you quickly look away to try and hide your red cheeks.

“If you’re not afraid, then why do you keep staring at my hands?”

You shake your head again, but he’s quick to catch on, annoyingly so. You see him smiling softly from the corner of your eye.

“If you want me to hold you, all you need to do is ask. You don’t have to be shy about it.”

He states it so easily, there’s no hesitation or judgment in his voice. All you need to do is ask…

You take a deep breath, trying to muster all of the courage you can in your tiny little body. You turn to look at him again, seeing him watching you with a patient smile.

“U-um, c… could you hold me…? Please?”

His face lights up as you do as he suggests, nodding his head as you take deep breaths to prepare yourself for what you’ve just asked for. He reaches over and, using both hands, gingerly scoops you up. You gasp as you’re suddenly in his hold, watching warily as he brings you closer to him. He looks down at you with a friendly gaze, as though waiting for you to respond to his actions. After you anxiously fidget for a moment, he softly speaks up again.

“Is there a particular way you’d like me to hold you? I have no problem with this, but if you want to get more cozy, we can do that too.”

You nod your head as he ends his sentence, speaking up even quieter this time.

“More cozy…?” you ask timidly.

He smiles, his hands bringing you to his chest and giving you exactly what you’ve been hoping and dreaming for. You’re tucked against him as he leans back, and you nestle in as his warmth invites you closer.

“There you go, that’s all you needed to do. You let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you, alright?”

You nod your head, your eyes closed as you soak in this moment. You feel his thumb move, startling briefly before relaxing under his soothing touch. He rubs his thumb softly over your side, and you begin to nestle in closer. You sigh deeply as you feel his massive fingers keeping you supported, making you feel secure and safe. His warmth seeps into your body with ease, and you nuzzle your face into his shirt, clinging to it with your tiny hands.

“Oh my, you’re quite the little cuddle bug, aren’t you?”

You nod your head softly once more, not caring quite so much about how shy or embarrassed you feel anymore. You’ve been needing this for a while, and being on your own hasn’t been conducive to receiving this kind of attention. While you didn’t expect to find comfort from a human, of all things, you still welcome the opportunity to indulge in something you’ve dearly missed, and he seems just as eager to provide it to you.

“You should have said something sooner, sweetheart…” he murmurs, his thumb brushing across the side of your face briefly before returning to your side.

You don’t respond this time, instead focusing entirely on the feeling of being held by such large, gentle hands, and being cradled to his chest as his heart beats soothingly inches away from you.

“Here, I’m going to lie down so you can lay on my chest. Hold on tightly.”

You do as he says, clinging to his shirt as he presses you up against his chest securely with one hand. His other grabs a couch pillow to lay against, and he turns to situate himself horizontally across the cushions. He’s now halfway propped up on the pillow, and your tiny weight settles comfortably onto his chest as it supports you from beneath. It’s still at a bit of an angle, so his hands continue to cradle you close to him to keep you feeling secure atop him.

“There we are, how’s this?”

You take a moment to process all of this. It’s one thing to be held close to his chest, it’s another thing entirely to be laying on top of his chest. It feels much closer, more intimate and personal, and you feel your face heating up as the weight of the situation hits you.

This human, who you strove so hard to avoid for so long, was now fully invested in making sure you feel safe and warm. He encouraged you to ask for comfort from him, and wasted no time in making sure he could provide it to you.

You offer him a small, shy smile in response to his question as you snuggle in, the weight of his hands over you soothing you. It feels like you’re constantly being hugged, and it’s something you’ve been yearning for ever since you ended up on your own. His thumb strokes over you again and again, a gentle touch that begins to lull you into a doze as you close your eyes.

“You can sleep if you want, you’re safe here.”

And despite this going against all rules in place to ensure your survival, you believe him. You feel like you can let your guard down, like you can let yourself be so incredibly vulnerable to him and that he wouldn’t take advantage of you. You feel safe with him, and you let yourself relinquish your control, passing out surrounded by his warmth and soothed by his affection.

You could get used to this.

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