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imvenusasaboy · 1 day

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PUPARIA

Chapter 7 - Oblivion

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It was at times like these when Hosah felt grateful for the New York Subway system, as even at four in the morning, him and his partner were able to commute all the way back to the office with ease.

Nobody had touched the package, it was a miracle somebody was even brave enough to pick it up and bring it into the security room. In all honesty, the shifter wasn't sure why the police weren't the first people Scotty, the guy Jules had hired to sit and watch their camera footage all night, had called.

He did have an idea as to why, though. He and Scotty had pretty much hated eachother since day one. The man had no positives to him. He's rude, he's cynical, he says the most offensive things, he's nihilistic and generally leaves a bad taste in everyone's mouth. Sure, all of those character flaws probably applied to Hosah himself, but his own hypocrisy was something the shifter preferred to not dwell on. The security guy wasn’t relevant enough to Hosah’s life to get worked up on anyway.

The rag-tag team all stood in near silence, as if they were waiting for the package itself to speak. Wrapped in a stereotypical brown paper bag, the little twine bow and all, the parcel was flat and wide, a four by four square with maybe and inch and a half of elevation to it. Just by looking at it, Hosah could tell it was a canvas of sorts. He'd been painting consistently for over a decade, so he thought himself to have pretty worthy basis to make such a theory.

Without thinking too much of it, the shifter spoke, leaning over closer to inspect the item infront of him, "Looks like it's a painting, or something."

Scotty was the first to dismiss his idea, "Why the hell would anyone mail you a painting to your workplace?"

"Why would anyone kill fifteen people?" The shifter's eyes stayed focused on what was beneath him, knowing that, if he were to look up at the crowd of much larger beings, he'd probably pussy out of indulging in any kind of argumentative urges that came over him when speaking to the insufferable man.

Jeanne spoke up, stood in the corner of the tiny office, leant against the wall away from the topic of conversation, "Let's just open it and see. Can't be anything worse than what we've already seen."

"Yeah, Hosah, you open it. That way if it's a bomb and you're blown to pieces, it won't be so hard to clean."

God, if only his prayers were answered. Suddenly, Hosah felt bad for admitting his uncertainty surrounding religion. The smell of burning flesh wouldn't be so bad if he knew it was Scotty's body that had spontaneously combusted.

The shrunken figures eyebrows furrowed, although his gaze was still unmoving. He wondered if Teddy shared the same annoyed expression as his own.

"Shouldn't we wait until we can get it tested for any , I don't know, DNA remnants? Assuming it's the same guy that fled the scene the other day that left the package." The shrunken figure questioned, leaning over to inspect every aspect of the seemingly normal parcel in close detail.

Unfortunately, Hosah seemed to have fallen perfectly into Scotty's hands with his reply. "Hah, so, you're a fucken' pussy, that's it, right?" How anybody could be so cartoonishly insufferable, the shifter did not know.

"Shut up, Scotty. God. I'll open it." Teddy's sudden bite back alongside the quick grab of the delivery caused the figure stood beside it to jump back slightly, he'd not seen such a side to his assistant before, and in all honesty, it flattered him.

Scotty wheeled his chair back out of the way into Jeanne's direction as the brown paper packaging was carefully torn apart. He was right. It was a painting after all, with a folded paper note on the hollow side of the canvas.

Upon turning it over, painted side up, delicately placed down on the table beside him, Hosah's face turned an unusual shade of white. This wasn't an original piece from the killer at all, it was his own work, even with his name written in small white text in the bottom right corner.

In any other situation, the fact almost everybody in the room gathered around, towering above him, would've put Hosah at indescribable unease, but he was far too distracted by what sat in-front of him to even notice.

"Looks like one of yours." He was glad to hear Teddy's voice again, all he really wanted to do was crawl back into the warm palm once more, and forget he'd ever seen anything to begin with.

A grating scoff could be heard from the distance away where the night shift security guard sat, although nobody paid any attention to him by this point.

Hosah looked up to the giant looming above him, whose eyes were fixated on the painting and not the shifter himself, "It is one of mine. See. Signed it and everything."

The look Scotty had on his face was disturbing if anything, a sort of sadistic smile to himself that worried Hosah. He wondered who's side he was really on, his team's, or the killer's. A hole grew in his stomach when he thought about the contents of the note, probably some edgy manifesto of all the killer's prejudices toward the most vulnerable of society, their sick reasonings for indulging in such cruelty. Nothing he hadn't seen before; but that didn't make it all any less unsettling.

"Huh. So it is." Teddy leant, his mouth slightly agape as he puzzled over what lay out in front of him. "Have you ever sold any of your art or something?"

The trouble brewing in the shifter's stomach rose as he blurted out, "No, that's the thing, I don't even.. They must've gotten it straight from my apartment." It could've been anyone. It could've even been Teddy, given his peaked interest in his work, and the fact he had a key to the apartment in the first place.

It wasn't a piece he'd done recently, it was one he'd remembered storing away in the closet under all of his old, dirty tarps. A shitty take at a man he'd pass almost every day about two years ago, always at the pick up bay by the station, always in the same coat smoking the same brand of cigarettes, Hosah had thought up a whole backstory for him. Divorced, retired, and on his way to the bar to sleuth out information on the man his wife had left him for. The type of guy Hosah imagined himself growing to be when he was around fifty, deeply troubled and fuelled by vengeance from the, in the grand scheme of things, meaningless.

"What about the note, what does that say?" Hosah's attention shifted as he heard the paper fumble in his assistant's hands in response, anxiously awaiting for what was on the other side of the folded sheet.

"Hmm," Teddy's eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed, "It's long. And fucking.. Hard to read. Rushed cursive. Could scan it into one of the computers, get someone over to decipher it."

The shrunken man shrugged, annoyed his curiosity couldn't be fed into, but understanding of the situation.

"Sure. Sounds good." He said, standing to his underwhelming full height of three inches. Hosah wondered what was taking his body so long to adjust for another switch back, when he remembered he hadn't actually taken his size control medication since.. Maybe a week ago?

It was safe to say just about everyone wanted to get the fuck out of Scotty's office after the interaction. He wondered why Jules would hire such a dickhead, before realising she'd also hired himself too, and that was just as bad.

Even hours later, stood on his assistant's desk once more, Hosah couldn't help out pace back and forth, contemplating all that had occurred so far in the case. It wasn't a lot, but what he'd been left with felt like a thousand threads all tangled in one big, untie-able knot. The holes in the hands, the bodies lined up in order of stages of decomposition, his painting, the unreadable note, what did it all mean?

It was horrible to admit, but Hosah often found himself empathising with the criminals he sought after. Of course he knew they were society's most disgusting and depraved individuals, but that sort of behaviour doesn't just prop up out of nowhere. He'd be a hypocrite if he didn't give these freaks the benefit of the doubt, as some would go as far as to say Hosah had gotten himself into a fair amount of totally fucked scenarios that would group him with these kinds of people.

Nobody did these kinds of acts for no reason. He had his own reasons for getting into his own shit, so what gives him the right to pretend that they don't? After all, reasons are not excuses. But that was the thing, Hosah's curiosity was his biggest flaw. His utter inability to stay in his own lane, to keep his nose out of other people's business, it's what got him into the most trouble. Curiosity killed the cat or something.

Jeanne's words replayed in his head over and over, in all honesty, he never really considered himself a highly empathetic person beforehand, but everyone seemed to think otherwise. That was probably what got him into all the trouble he found himself in as a young man. At the age of twenty seven, he'd experienced a life time of shit. All because he didn't know when to stop surrounding himself with people who so obviously had ill intentions.

Hosah was an attention seeker, at the core of it, somebody paying attention to him, even if it's to hurt him, was what fed his ego. It gave him some sort of worth, this random serial killer was interested in him, it doesn't matter in what way, he had someone that saw him. What in particular they saw in him, he had no idea, and the itching to know just what made him of all the shifters out there so special was what drove him crazy. Why him? Why that painting? Why those fifteen people before him? All he wanted was answers, he didn't even really care if getting them was what killed him.

"Hosah, I think you should start living at my apartment." The statement caught him completely off guard, freezing mid step and turning to look at the giant that sat before him.

"We can go and get all your stuff you need today. I just.. It doesn't feel right. The painting, it was taken straight from your house. I don't want to leave you there, they know that's where you live," Teddy truly looked troubled as he went on, "I don't think I'd be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you."

The tiny man nodded in agreement, "Yeah, yeah you're right. I didn't even think about that, to be honest. Thanks. I appreciate it."

One week into their knowledge of each others existence, and the two had already made plans to move in together. Hosah wasn't even surprised, moving fast was his default. He had thoughts of marriage about everyone he's ever slept with, and that list was far too long to count on his hands alone. Teddy had that kind of look about him that made the shifter realise the two's lives were to be intertwined for as long as they'd live, he was just unsure of in what way that'd be.

"I know it's kind of sudden and we don't know eachother all that well, but, I mean, please don't feel pressured to say yes or anything." Teddy rambled on, the fact the giant seemed to care so much was very flattering.

Hosah could only smile, inching closer to the resting fist on the table he stood on, "I already said yes, Teddy. I'm not really one to get all shy in dangerous situations like these." That was a lie, and it sort of pained him to say it out loud with just how blatant the fact of the matter was.

-~-

"Your place is.. nice."

Hosah took a good look around from his shoulder view. Seemed his assistant had a few unpleasant traits after all. The apartment was packed with shit. Trinkets and vintage decorations, CDs and records, random pieces of junk he'd probably found out in the wild, his apartment was sort of like a hoarders home, or maybe a crow's nest.

Teddy couldn't sense the uneasiness in the shifters voice, "Thank you, thank you. I uh, I need to do a good deep clean sometime soon though. Got a lot of stuff but I can never find it in me to part with any of it. Just scared I'll need it one day, or I'll forget whatever memory I have associated with it, you know?"

"You don't say.." Really, the man stood, one foot on the shirt collar, one foot on the jacket shoulder, was in no place to judge at all. He had his absurd collection of art works, and Teddy had his absurd collections of everything else there was to own in the world.

The tiny eyes adverted to the three decorative plates mounted on the wall outside of his kitchen, a very pretty collection, with the centre piece capturing what looked like to be a rural house in a field of flowers, the rest being of various farm animals. Despite looking pretty old, the paint was just as bright as the day it was done. Bright pastels that popped out against be ceramic white, with a fine gold border around the curved edges.

"Pretty right?" His assistant noticed Hosah's fixated stare on the display, "They were a gift from my grandpa, for graduating university. His grandma gifted them to him too, when he bought his first house."

"Been in the family for a while then.." The tiny man leant closer to her a better look at the paint job.

"Yeah, yeah definitely. I'm gonna give them to my kids too. And hopefully it'll be carried on for the rest of forever." With his hands at his hips, Teddy sighed a hopeful sigh. "Why about you? Any special family heirlooms going around?"

Oh, god, he had to wrack his brain around for a moment to even think of anything, "My mom always said she wished she had a daughter, you know, to pass her wedding dress down to. Well, it's not- I don't know, are hanbok's considered dresses? I think so,"

"Ohh," Teddy's interest seemed to be peaked as he made his way to sit on the couch, on whatever space there was free at least, as it was covered almost entirely with decorative pillows and blankets, "So, you're Korean, right? Fully, or?"

"Pshh, do I look full? No, my dad's Arab- Mizrahi, so I guess, Iraqi maybe? I don't really know, he's never specified. Always just says Jewish or American." Hosah had long climbed down from the shoulder, finding himself resting in the cupped hands of his assistant as he rambled.

"Hmm, yeah I thought so. It's hard to tell, really, never heard of that mix before." the giant's voice quietened a little, as if he were worried he could come off as offensive or something, "I was wondering where the name Hosah came from, too, is it Korean? Hebrew?"

"It's- It's a funny story, actually," Whenever Hosah started a conversation like this, the other person could expect probably the least funny story imaginable, "I'm named after my uncle, my dads twin brother, he was a shifter too. Died three days before my parents found out I was on the way. Anyway. The name Hosah in itself is Hebrew, but there is a really similar Korean name, just spelt '-suh' not '-sah'. And a different meaning, and stuff."

The giant nodded his head and gave an 'Ohhh' of understanding, "That's really interesting, actually."

"I've always been kind of worried about being named after someone who had a shifting related death. Like it's just sealed the deal for me to be.. cursed or something. It's stupid but it's always in the back of my mind whenever I do something stupid." The tiny man brushed his hands through his hair, avoiding eye contact, "I guess thats bound to happen though, seeing your own name on a coffin."

“Like an Ouroboros, the eternal cycle, history repeating itself,” Teddy soon realised that the man in his hands had no idea what he was talking about, “The snake eating itself, something like that,” still, Hosah was clueless.

“..So that Scotty guy huh!” The giant awkwardly laughed, desperate to keep the shifter talking for a reason that was unknown to him. “What a dick. So stupid too. Picking up that parcel and bringing it into his office, not even calling the police?? Total moron.” Teddy progressively seemed to get more worked up, his palms getting clammier and clammier by the second.

“I mean,” his face shifted, now looking more worried if anything, “He was just so.. rude to you. Completely unprovoked!”

Hosah’s eyes lingered down onto his shoes, now sitting cross legged in the palm, “Some people are just like that.” He sighed, “See someone weaker than them, and just getting the urge to..” the words trailed off into silence, although Teddy could probably piece together what came next.

“Well, he’s stupid. You’re great. I couldn’t imagine even considering speaking to you like that.”

“That’s cause you know I’d beat your ass, when I’d get back to normal size, anyway.” The shifter stood to his full height, not even the size of Teddy’s hand, “I need you to help me with something.”

Without a second thought, his assistant followed his every word. Hosah hadn’t taken his medication in days, he knew if he didn’t start, his doctor wouldn’t let him hear the end of it.

Teddy’s bathroom was just as cluttered as the rest of his apartment, with a cute little My Neighbor Totoro toothbrush holder and all. The tiny man hadn’t seen that movie since he was barely able to retain memories, just the sight of that grey beast sent him back in time.

“So you need to do this every day?” The giant spoke as he filled the human sized needle with whatever concoction of drugs his doctor prescribes him to take daily. Something he always forgot how to pronounce, somatotrophixine? Along the lines of that, at least.

Hosah just nodded, “Yeah. I’ve been forgetting lately.”

Pinching what little fat he had left on his thigh with one hand, and biting the arm connected to his other, the shifter was ready to take the dosage.

“Do you not get scared? This needles bigger than your whole body.”

Hosah really wished he’d stop being asked so many questions as he winced at the sudden contact, causing his assistant to give a quiet little ‘Sorry’ under his breath.

He waited until the needle had been removed to release his teeth from his arm, “Nah, been doing it since I was like.. I don’t know, twelve?” Hosah groaned a little as he let go of the skin, “Still hurts, though. Do you have any bandages?”

Very carefully, as if he was scared he’d break Hosah with the light touch from his fingers, the giant gave the bleeding wound a wipe, wrapping it with a cut up piece of gauze afterward.

“I don’t know how you cope. I think I’d be way too freaked out to even remember to breathe, aha,”

“You get used to it. I used to be terrified all the time. Constant state of fear, it was hell. Then I got medicated for anxiety and shit, all better now. You could put me in a case filled with.. I don’t know, rats and scorpions, wouldn’t break a sweat.” The shifter bragged, stretching the truth about a mile further than reality. Really, he still got scared, he was always still scared, he just knew how to mask it better.

“Well then,” his assistant leant back forward, having cleared away the surface from what mess the pair had just made, “I want what you’re on.”

This phrase had never failed to make Hosah laugh. “Let’s switch places first, then we’ll see.”

Maybe moving in together wasn’t the greatest idea. The rest of the day, and even into the night, Teddy asked questions relentlessly. On one hand, it made the shifter quite happy, nobody had ever been so curious about him, it made him feel pretty special for once. Then again, on the other hand, he quite missed his alone time with just him and his thoughts.

The giant’s chatter eventually became white noise to him, finally falling sleep as the sun had long gone down, the stars being brighter than ever. Or maybe they were just streetlights, it was hard to tell.

Hosah had managed to drift off on the pillow besides his assistant’s head, but when he awoke the next day, Teddy was nowhere to be seen. Not wanting to jump down from such a height, despite knowing that he’d probably just bounce along the floor due to his height and weight, the shifter waited patiently for his knight in shining armour to rescue him from the impossibly high castle.

Unfortunately, none of that was accurate to reality, as the shitty ikea bed was far from any fairy tale tower, and Teddy, in his boxer shorts and generic band t shirt- which the design on had long faded in the washing machine, was far from any kind of prince charming. That part was debatable, actually.

The shifter had no idea what had come over him lately, maybe it was some kind of sickness bug going around or an infection in his brain, but as every day went by that he and Teddy spent constantly in each others company, the more Hosah grew to love him. Not romantically, of course. He wasn’t even expecting to like him, never mind want to be as close as friends with him as they were becoming. Although.. he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he found the giant at least somewhat attractive. On a completely aesthetic level.

Teddy peeked through the slightly ajar door with a little knock, as if this wasn’t his own bedroom. Upon noticing his new roommate was awake, he entered shyly, still in his night clothes, uttering a quiet ‘Good morning’ in a sing-song voice. Hosah didn’t respond, he needed at least twenty minutes to properly adjust to his consciousness in the morning.

Instead, the miniature man sat on the pillow, watching Teddy carefully as he rifled through his wardrobe. From here, Hosah had pretty much the perfect view of the man. He had nice legs, thick calves, and his freckles extended past his face to the entirety of his body. One thing the shifter had always wished he had when he was younger was more moles. He had one pretty big one on the right of his belly button, and one under his left ear, but that was it. It was one of his mother’s traits that he envied, she had beauty marks pretty much in every place you’d expect them to be.

It was in moments like these which Hosah wished his eyes were cameras, so he could take a photo of the moment and store it in his brain forever. Having a photographic memory must be nice. The lighting was perfect as the sun shined through the thin fabric of Teddy’s curtains, with the dark red paint across the walls helping the man in catching the singular audience member’s eye.

The observer quickly turned his face away as his subject caught on to his peeping, “What are you looking at?” Teddy said in a laugh, his smile showing his endearingly crooked teeth.

“You, I guess.” His face flushed a colour similar to that on the walls, “I like your teeth.”

Yeesh. Hosah knew it sounded weird as soon as he said it, but it was too late now.

“Aha, thank you, my parents wanted me to get braces or retainers or something, but I always liked them too.” Luckily for the still shrunken man, Teddy seemed to take the compliment how it was intended to be interpreted.

Despite the fact it exhausted him the previous day, Hosah wanted to continue to talk with his assistant for hours. Maybe they were just rubbing off on one another, but he really wanted to know every little detail about Teddy’s entire life.

With the starting day’s rays hitting his so perfectly, the giant’s green eyes really shone, looking much paler in the direct sunlight compared to the usual darker shade they appeared to be. Hosah wondered if he had one Irish parent with how he looked, he wouldn’t have gotten Italian just by looking at him, unless told so first.

“You know,” Teddy started, buttoning up his dress shirt in the meantime, “Im so curious what that note said. The one in the package, I mean.”

Right. The detective had nearly forgotten all about the previous day, too focused on fantasising about some dream-like life he could have with Teddy. He really needed to get his head down, out of the clouds, and back into the game. He needed to talk to Jeanne, Jeanne always knew what to say, and what to do in times like these.

“Hmm, I’ll give it a look over. Might find it easier, able to see all the fine details and such..” Hosah rubbed the sleep from his eyes and combed his curly bed head with his fingers, “Probably just a load of manic shit. Dark web manifesto type thing.”

“This is all so scary. I mean, they went to your house, and mailed your own painting back to you, does that not scare you?”

“I told you, I’m not scared of anything.”

Teddy looked up from his undone tie, “I’m being serious, Hosah.” , his face really reflected just how serious he seriously was. “It’s okay you know, fuck, I’m scared of this guy.”

Eugh, that phrase the shifter hated so much, ‘it’s okay’ or anything of the sort. Being comforted verbally just caused his entire body to quiver and cringe, which was very likely evident in the disgusted face he didn’t realise he was making, as Teddy tilted his head to the side, his eyebrows angled down as if to say ‘Cmon,’

“Yeah. But I’m used to all of this, even outside of my job, I’ve had to deal with weirdos-“

His assistant rudely interjected with a counter argument, “That’s exactly what scares me. You shouldn’t just.. be used to this kind of shit. It’s messed up, even more so that you’ve had to experience it all your life.”

Hosah sat, silent- a little stunned, even, frozen for a moment. He was right, and the shifter knew it, he’d known it the whole time. It wasn’t normal for him to just be used to all the kinds of sickening, cruel and downright sadistic shit that was probably all wrapped up in a nice little bow on that note. Despite already being at his minimum height, the shifter shrunk back into himself, deciding not to say anything else at all, admitting defeat in the whole bicker.

For the whole period of quiet, Teddy never looked away from the man that sat on his pillow. He didn’t want to come off as controlling or infantilising, but it was so hard not to worry about the tiny detective. He’d been dealt a shit hand in life, all the odds stacked against him in this world, and if he was the one looking out for all of the city’s shifters, who was looking out for him?

#g/t #giant tiny #g/t ocs #gianttiny #sfw g/t #giant/tiny #oc hosah #oc teddy #Puparia_tag #Ohh it’s kicking off 😲#Teehee

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imvenusasaboy · 3 days

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PUPARIA

Chapter 6 - two reverse

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"You sure this is the movie you want to see?" Teddy anxiously fidgeted with the scarf Hosah was hiding in so they could avoid being charged for two tickets.

"Why not? I mean, 't just came out, everyone seems excited for it," The tiny man beneath the fabric was right, the queue they were standing in had gotten exponentially longer since they'd joined, and it wasn't like they were anywhere near the front either. "It's too late to turn back now, Teddy, you've reached... Your final destination." Although Hosah's corny pun was funny, in an ironic way of course, his assistant was not laughing.

"It's- it's not that I have an issue with it, I just don't wanna waste my money on a bad movie, you know?" Maybe it was just the fact that is was too hot to be wearing so many layers that made Teddy sweat. There was no way a man, who's dealt with death head on, would be so scared of some movie.

Hosah didn't have to say anything in response, his snickering was enough.

The line moved fast, and before they knew it, the two detectives were in their singular seat, having paid for a singular ticket. To say it was nine o' clock on a Tuesday, the theatre was packed. Hosah had never been particularly interested in the horror genre, but The Final Destination was the only recent release that would be playing shortly after they'd both arrived, aside from reruns of The Notebook, which he'd already seen more times than his parents in the last five years.

Once the lights had dimmed and everyone seemed to be seated, the shrunken man wriggled out from under the layers of fabric until he had a good view of the screen. Teddy's height was a real plus, as even from his shoulder, no heads were obstructing the view of the screen.

With the amount of medication he was on, Hosah found it hard to keep his eyes open, being wrapped up so cozily in Teddy's scarf by the crook of his neck. Any sort of warmth and that was it, the shifter was out like a light. Although he was definitely more of a dog person, Hosah could understand the common comparison between him and a cat, as he found himself getting drowsy in even the most chaotic of situations, much like this one. Despite the ear-splitting loudness of the surrounding speakers, and Teddy's constant flinches at the movie jumpscares, Hosah had to fight his body's urge to drift off into a deep slumber.

The screams from the surrounding movie goers regularly jolted the tiny man back to reality, but even then, he struggled to stay fully aware of his surroundings for more than five minutes or so. Realising he wasn't particularly built for this sort of thing, Hosah wondered why he didn't just invite his assistant to watch movies in the comfort of his apartment instead. Oh well, this was probably fun for Teddy, at least.

In a room so filled with people, there was no way Hosah was going to be able to keep his attention on the movie. The best part of the theatre was watching the people around you react anyway, at least in his opinion. The shifter had never really though twice about any movie he'd ever seen, even in the moments, the awareness of the fact everything was a work of fiction was enough to take Hosah completely out of the horror enjoyment experience, so seeing other people getting scared was his main source of enjoyment from the media.

Fortunately for him, Teddy was most definitely getting scared. The concept itself wasn't even remotely disturbing, some curse or whatever, avoiding death once means it'll come back to get you, a situation Hosah couldn't picture himself being in, but it seemed terrifying enough to the people around him. Maybe he was just too critical, or maybe he just had bad taste.

As Hosah felt the giant's shoulders tense up beneath him once more, his eyes began to droop against his will, falling into his own subconscious. Lately, he'd been having weirder and weirder dreams. Sure, the reoccurring nightmare of his own metamorphosis was weird, but these were all next level. Hosah didn't think his brain had the ability to create such scenarios, but every night he would live through them, and awake with the vivid memory of them all. Recently, they'd mostly been about Teddy. He couldn't really make sense of them, with no rhyme or reason behind any of the events, not that Hosah would know how to describe or even comprehend them, and no consistency amongst them all, besides the fact they were all about his assistant, of course.

It was weird, Hosah didn't usually dream of people he knew, especially so soon after meeting them. Maybe he really would have to get into spirituality some time soon, as the spirits lurking around in his mind were clearly trying to send some kind of message, the thing was, the shifter just couldn't understand what it all meant. Hosah didn't remember the event's specifically, just the feelings he experienced. Over the past few days, he'd woken up with his heart beating out of his chest, face flushed and body shivering. At first, he considered the possibility just being sick, but that didn't explain why the feeling went away once he'd gained full consciousness and awareness of his surroundings.

-~-

"You fell asleep? How? I could barely hear myself think," Teddy laughed in astonishment, at this point he shouldn't have been surprised by this fact at all.

Despite knowing the giant couldn't see him from his own shoulder, Hosah shrugged, "That just happens when it's dark and I'm all warm and cozy."

It was true, even now, with Teddy squatted down on the side of the busy street waiting for their cab, the tiny man was painfully aware of his heavy eyelids and weakened muscles.

His assistant didn't respond, only chuckling to himself, probably thinking of something Hosah definitely didn't want to know about for his own dignity.

"So, was it bad?" The shifter pulled himself up from under the layers, now stood on the collar of his assistant's dress shirt, fighting the urge to grab hold of his auburn hair for balance.

"I mean," Teddy turned his face in the opposite direction, pretending to look out for the taxi, "It wasn't good,".

As the giant shifted his view as far away from the detective as possible, Hosah craned his neck to get a better view of his assistant's, very red, face. "Aww, glad I slept through it then. I'm not really a huge horror fan anyway. Never really got to me."

Despite not being able to properly see pocket-sized man, Teddy turned his face back the way it came from. Although he really wanted to say 'Why'd you make me sit through that then?' , instead he asked, "What movies do you like, then?"

Teddy already knew the answer to his question, as he'd nosied around the shifter's TV stand whilst he was busy doing whatever it was he did instead of just asking for help. He didn't have many DVDs in his collection, but the ones he did have seemed mismatched at best, ones he'd never thought he'd see all together in one place. Out of the five all together, Twilight seemed to be the one Hosah watched the most, as it sat by the TV, case opened, and with its disc nowhere to be seen.

Hosah took a second to think before giving an answer, "Oh, you know, the classics. Pulp Fiction, The Godfather." Teddy felt the tiny man brush back and forth past his neck. That was one thing he'd noticed Hosah did a lot, he swayed back and forth whenever he told stupid lies.

"Really?" Despite wanting to call him out on the falsehoods, the assistant played along, seeing how far he could push before Hosah broke and admitted the truth.

He scoffed, although it was obvious he was more nervous than smug, "Of course. I mean, who doesn't love, I don't fuckin' know, Taxi Driver."

"What's that about? Never heard of it."

".. A taxi driver??" Hosah stumbled on his words a little, if the giant could see him as he stood perched on his shoulder, his face would probably be as equally red as his own was earlier.

On the topic of taxi drivers, a familiar face could be seen in the window of the bright yellow car pulling up by the side of the pavement where the two detectives off duty were waiting. Despite having a weird at best first meeting, Teddy called the number on the business card he'd been given two days prior and asked for Felix. There was something about the familiar European accent and his uncomfortable nicknames that were so endearing to him, there was no way he couldn't form a relationship with the guy.

Felix waved the two, who were already approaching, over with large gestures out the window, calling out a few words neither of the detectives could really hear or understand.

As Teddy climbed into the backseat, hand holding his scarf, which the tiny man had found himself wrapped up in once again, the driver gave a comment which could actually be heard this time, "Just you today? Where's Pupa?"

Hosah shuffled his top half out from under the polyester in response, face still flushed, partially from the sudden movements in which he was pushed and pulled every which way by the debilitating force of gravity, and partially because he had no idea of the meaning what he'd just been referred to as had.

He only became more confused as his assistant seemed to find the term to be extremely humorous. Hosah wanted to ask what it meant, but there was an invisible force that took away his ability to speak whenever he was tiny in front of multiple people all at once, especially when that included strangers. The taxi driver turned around, leaning as far as he could into the back seat whilst still sitting down,

"Where to?" if he were anyone else, this would've been a perfectly normal and socially acceptable question for him to ask, but the fact Felix sat staring directly at the shifter instead of Teddy deeply unsettled the tiny figure. He'd actually never felt so, perceived in his life.

Such a simple question, so simple that Hosah zoned out when his assistant gave the response and Felix had long since turned around and started driving, but he couldn't stop replaying the look in his head, a thousand times over. It wasn't like being stared at when he was tiny was out of the ordinary, in fact, he'd grown accustomed to being a spectacle, but that's what made the interaction so unsettling, the fact Felix didn't look at him as if he were a strange trinket or some kind of car crash that, despite knowing they shouldn't, people can't seem to take their eyes away from.

It was the first time someone had looked at Hosah, when he was such a way, as an equal human being. The same way Felix looked at Teddy in the same sentence. For once, he felt as though he was on equal grounds to just about anyone in the city, which was probably what scared him so much, as he realised it wasn't just the taxi driver that gave him such a kind of look.

Things like this always meant the most to him. Maybe it was just because he was so small, he could see the details so much clearer, that even a shift in the glint of someone's eyes meant a lot. Or he just had a bad habit of overthinking all the minute things in his life. Probably the latter, but Hosah preferred the first standpoint. Being three inches tall sucked most of the time, but being able to enjoy the smallest parts of life was pretty cool. Pillows being huge, empty plains of fluffy bliss, food always being in abundance, being able to count the freckles on a certain someone's cheeks, all the things he wouldn't be able to appreciate if not fulfilling his hereditary curse that was being a shifter.

Right now especially, Hosah could appreciate how warm and soft the flesh of his assistant's neck was, blended with the polyester of his scarf. If he couldn't keep his eyes open an hour and a half ago, he definitely couldn't right now. The giant voices mindlessly chatting were loud, but his lack of sleep over the past couple of days was louder.

As he rested his eyes, Hosah couldn't help but think back to the current case. If a random taxi driver he'd met once before could see him as an equal human being, why couldn't this sick monster see the fifteen people he'd taken the lives of as sentient beings at the very least? Even at his most lethargic of states, the detective's job kept him awake. If he'd had gotten there sooner, maybe they'd have had a better shot at saving the final body, or even identifying the man that had run away from the scene of the crime.

Hosah knew far too well not to get his head stuck on this topic, as he'd been repeatedly told by the two people currently closest to him, but it was something he couldn't help. Getting into a state of debilitating self hatred was his default, the one constant he could rely on for any sense of comfort when he had no control over anything going on in his life.

He wondered why Jules would ever seek him of all people to join the team five years ago. She knew him better than anyone, she knew the kinds of things he'd do to cope, it was a known fact to everyone in his life, that being a detective would be no good for Hosah, but being a stupid twenty one year old with no other prospects in life, Jules also knew he was a people pleaser, one that would do anything she requested of him.

Which is why, later in the evening, long since he and Teddy had ordered and eaten their takeout, both falling asleep together with the TV still playing, Hosah rushed to answer her call.

The ringing of the phone jolted the shifter awake so suddenly. He couldn't really think about the position he found himself in, still by the crook of his assistants neck, somebody was calling, and he needed to answer.

Carefully, in an attempt not to wake Teddy, he climbed down the creases in the unbuttoned dress shirt, using the wrinkles of the cotton as supports for under his feet. Hosah rushed over to the buzzing mobile on the coffee table, taking a risky leap from couch to the surface despite being unable to see where one things started and the other ended in the depths of the night's darkness.

He half expected it to be his dad calling drunk, or maybe Jeanne with more depressing news, but Hosah definitely didn't expect the name on the small screen to be Jules'. He hopped onto the other side of the phone, pressing whatever buttons he could under his heel until it picked up the call.

At first, he could only hear static and wind, but after a second or so, a familiar voice could be deciphered from the background noise, "Thank god you're up, aha. Sorry to disturb you in your down time, but, you know that guy I hired on the night shifts to watch all those cameras we got installed like, last year?" Surely when she called out of the blue at two in the morning, context was important. "Well, turns out he caught someone hand delivering a package, around twenty minutes ago."

Hosah couldn't quite understand what he was hearing for a second, due to both the fact he'd just woken up and also the absurdity of the scenario, "A.. A package? What, is it a pipe bomb or something? Call the police, not me, Juliette."

"That's the thing, it's addressed to you." She laughed down the phone, even though the situation was not funny at all.

As he stumbled on all the questions flowing from his head and out of his mouth, the shuffling from beside him took Hosah completely out of any coherent trains of thoughts he could form.

Usually by now, Jules would've hung up, but despite the terrible quality of the device, she could probably hear the fact Hosah wasn't alone through the speaker.

"Hosah?" Teddy sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, "Who are you talking to?"

Before he was able to explain himself, their boss chimed in, "What are you doing with Edward at two in the morning?"

"Ah, what are you doing calling me at two in the morning? Just get the police over tomorrow and have them take the package to forensics or something. I don't care if it's for me, I don't online shop." If he were more conscious, he'd probably be a lot more disturbed.

In fact, Hosah was annoyed if anything, all he really wanted was to curl back up in the space between Teddy’s shoulder and neck, but he gathered that probably wasn’t an option anymore.

The static picked back up again as Jules spoke up once more with a sigh, “Well, if you want to come take a look, a couple of us are already here. You don’t even have to bother calling Edward, ‘t seems.”

The tiny man frantically shuffled across the keys of the phone, hanging up as quickly as he could to avoid any sort of further teasing he knew his boss loved to indulge in, especially regarding Hosah and any relationship he forms with the men around him. She knew too much, and he didn’t trust her not to share what he wished he’d just kept to himself all those years ago.

The shifter gathered his breath in one exasperated sigh, turning his attention back to Teddy, who’s structure was complimented by the glow of the single table-side lamp the pair had forgotten to turn off before falling asleep. The yellow bulb’s luminosity clung to the giant’s face, wrapping perfectly around his prominent square jaw and high cheekbones. If he didn’t already know better, Hosah would’ve just assumed he was some kind of model.

“So..” Teddy fidgeted, his eyes shifting over to the humming TV infront of him, “What was that about?”

Hosah shrugged as he often did when he knew all too well what the answers to the giant’s questions were, “Someone’s hand delivered a package to the office. Got my name on it. Probably a threat, these fucking..” the tiny man waved his hands around in a similar fashion to how Teddy would, “Anti-shifter lunatics. Hah, it’s not the first time they’ve put some kind of bounty over my head. They don’t think we’re deserving of any sort of place in society. Never mind in the criminal justice system.”

His assistant hummed in melancholic agreement, “If they knew you, they’d understand. What you said earlier, it was powerful, you know you should go do speeches or something, got a way with words.”

“I don’t remember what I said,” The shrunken man could only laugh at the thought of himself up on a podium, “I say a lot of things, you throw a hundred things at a wall, at least one of thems gonna stick,”

“It was about you all being one. All shifters, I mean, that you need to look out for each other.” Teddy was looking right at him now; the same way he would look at any other person of his same size, except this time with a remarkably warm smile, “I think you say a lot of, fucking.. cool stuff. I don’t know. I’m sorry.” The giant wiped the sleep from his eyes once more as an excuse to cover his flustered face.

“.. Yeah, I guess that was cool of me.” The shifter was well and truly flattered, wanting to cover his own blushing face too.

“Well, anyway, we’re up now, how about breakfast?”

Food did sound good, Hosah had intentionally spoken more than he’d eaten earlier, meaning he’d gone almost the whole previous day without any sort of substance. When in front of others, he’d always resorted to shifting things around his plate so it looks like he’d had more than the reality of the situation, he didn’t know why, it’s not like he was embarrassed, it had just become a bad habit.

The giant stood to his full height, with the coffee table Hosah lounging on barely being at knee height. Teddy paused for a moment, realising he’d almost forgotten something.

“You coming?” He knelt down, hand open on the edge of the table. The man, just the right size to fit in the palm being offered to him, froze. He weighed up his options, he could experience the touch of which he hadn’t felt in years since moving to the city, or he could do his usual climbing act back onto Teddy’s shoulder.

Ah, whatever, it’s not that big of a deal. Hosah cautiously made his way over to the hand which waited patiently for him, suddenly hit with a wave of shyness that couldn’t be shaken. Despite having done this a hundred times before, he found himself nervously planning out his footing as he observed the palm in-front of him.

Honestly, he half expected Teddy to take the piss and poke a little fun at him, but he didn’t. The giant waited without a word. No kinds of encouragement or teasing, no talking down to him, just silent patience. Hosah liked that about him, he knew his place even when he clearly had the upper hand in these situations.

Just as he was about to take the first step, something came to Hosah’s memory, “Teddy, what does Pupa mean?”

“Oh, um,” his assistant laughed to himself with surprise at the sudden question, “In Latin, it means doll.”

“Eugh, god. How come you get the cool name like Sancho?” Hosah thought himself to be very smart as he used to conversation to distract himself from all of his nerves surrounding the hand in front of him, crawling into the palm with the grace of a fish out of water.

Without thinking too much about it, Teddy stood to his full height now that the shrunken figure sat comfortably, “No, no, Sancho is so much worse. That’s like, the male equivalent to English’s ‘mistress’.”

This fact made Hosah feel quite a lot better about his own nickname.

Almost as soon as he’d stepped onto the palm, it was time to be lowered back down onto his familiar kitchen counters. Curse Teddy his stupidly long legs, the shifter was just starting to enjoy the warmth radiating from underneath him.

The view from the counter was quite nice, though, he could always appreciate a good forearm. Hosah watched with a little shame brewing in his stomach as his assistant checked through his cupboards, revealing nothing but half a loaf of bread, an unopened can of chopped tomatoes, and a small glass bottle of vanilla extract.

The fridge was equally barren, only barely having the ingredients Teddy needed to prepare whatever he was thinking about.

“You know how you said you always carry ground cinnamon with you?” He asked, leaning forward against the countertop, his shadow cast over Hosah’s tiny form.

Embarrassed by both the position he’d found himself in and the fact Teddy had remembered the fact, Hosah hummed as if to say ‘go on,’.

“Where do you keep that?” The giant elaborated,

If he wasn’t shy before, Hosah was most definitely shy now, “In my- coat pocket. On the inside. It’s .. hung up by the door,” Despite being small enough, the shifter shrunk back into himself, pointing out back into the living room.

As if he didn’t do anything at all, Teddy casually went over and collected what little he had left in the spice shaker. Returning with all of the ingredients laid out in front of him, he explained himself,

“I’m making French Toast.” Teddy said, going through the under-the-counter cupboards to retrieve both a small skillet and a shallow bowl that Hosah didn’t recall ever owning. “Out of everything you had, it’s lucky you seemed to stock all the ingredients. Do you make it yourself often?”

In all honesty, Hosah didn’t even know how one made french toast. “Nah. I don’t really

cook all that much. Unless you count adding hot water to noodle cups.”

“I see,” Teddy laughed, “My dad’s a chef so, I always spent a lot of time with him learning recipes and such. Plus my grandparents were sort of incapable by the time I got old enough to use the kitchen, so I ended up helping them out a lot in that way.”

The shifter looked up curiously with those familiar big brown eyes, Teddy’s voice was very sweet, honey to the ears as his slight accent slipped into some of the words he said. Hosah wondered if he’d mind being asked to read him bedtime stories any time soon.

“Anyway, do your parents do anything cool?” Hosah taken out of the moment as the conversation was shifted onto himself,

“Ah, not really. You ever heard of Etsy? Kind of new, my dad’s a warrior on there. Always doing some kind of order. He’s a woodworking teacher at my hometown’s highschool, but lately he’s been focusing on his own online shop. It’s cool. He can make just about anything.” Hosah could go on for days in praise of his dad.

As he whisked the mixture of egg, cinnamon, and vanilla extract, the giant replied, “What do you mean not really? That is cool.”

The shifter looked down to his feet with a flustered smile, “Yeah, it is, I guess.”

“What about your mom?”

“Oh, she’s a nurse. Always pretty busy when we were kids. My parents had kind of an unconventional relationship, stay-at-home dad with my mom bringing home the bacon. Or, bread, we can’t eat bacon. I don’t know.”

“Hmm, you don’t like pork?” The clicking of the gas being lit on the stove sort of muffled what Teddy had asked, placing the soaked bread slices onto the lightly greased skillet.

“ Nah, ‘ts not kosher. I don’t even know, I don’t even really believe in religion all that strongly, but I’ve been doing it my whole life so, what’s the point in stopping now?” Hosah rambled on, unsure if what he was saying could be heard by whatever higher being he’d dedicated his life to pleasing, and if it’d come up in purification.

“Oh god I get that. I still find myself thinking back to some of the shit I learnt in school, ‘You shall not lie with a male as one lies with a woman’ , man tell that to all of your priests then, you know?” The shifter was kind of taken aback with how much passion Teddy seemed to have on the topic, and also with what he may or may not have just told him. His heart beat out of his chest, realising he might actually have a shot at what he’d been trying to scrub from his mind whenever he looked at the giant.

“Y-yeah, totally. It’s still nice though, I guess. Hope of something after life, reaping your rewards, finding out you were right the whole time and every one else was getting it all wrong.” Hosah turned, hiding his red face despite the fact his assistant was far too distracted with the task in front of him to notice.

Teddy exhaled a contemptuous ‘Pshh’ , “That’s the thing though, what if everyone else was right? I don’t even really believe in an afterlife, to be honest. I always just thought you were put back on earth at square one, with past lives and all that.” he shrugged, “I don’t know, I’m a Libra, I’m indecisive. I might tell you the opposite tomorrow.”

“I don’t even know what my zodiac sign is, not the most spiritual guy out there.”

“Well,” Teddy turned his head away from the sizzling pan and down onto the shrunken figure, “When’s your birthday?”

“June first.”

The giant squinted with a familiar coy smile that meant he was definitely up to no good,

“Gemini. Yeah. That makes so much sense.”

“Why, what does that mean, how does that make sense?” Hosah needed an explanation to why the giant seemed to be so understanding of the answer.

Teddy’s eyes adverted back in that annoying nonchalant way, “Well, they say you guys are clever, impulsive, communicative, and you contradict yourselves a lot.” That same smile curled up onto his face as he remembered one more thing, “And you’re bad at sex. But then again, these are just loose traits, they can apply to just about anyone. It’s fun to think about though.”

The statement completely flustered Hosah into a stunned silence, with no idea what to say or how to respond, so instead, Teddy added more to his side of the conversation,

“They do say that Libras and Geminis are really strong matches though, so we have that going for us. I’d like to think there’s some truth in it all. It’s just interesting, I like it.”

Hosah coughed out his words in embarrassment, “When’s your birthday, then?”

“October nineteenth. My sister’s birthday is only two days before mine.”

“Eugh, I’d hate that. Are you the youngest or the oldest?” Hosah acted as if he knew all too well about the middle child syndrome of being forgotten, despite being fully aware of his dad’s blatant favouritism in his favour.

Teddy reached over to the dried dish pile by the sink, the smell of the cooked toast wafting throughout the whole apartment, “Youngest. There’s only eighteen months between me and my sister though, so we’ve always been more like twins if anything.” Turning the heat off of the stove, he continued, “What about you? You have siblings also, right?”

“Mm, two brothers. One older, one younger. It was always kind of awkward, because me and my older brother are so close in age, but then my little brother and I have a ten year age gap. Felt like he missed out on a lot of older brother growing up experiences, made me feel bad and stuff.”

Teddy gave a sympathetic ‘Mmm’ in response, too distracted dishing out breakfast to really think of any sort of heartfelt reply.

“Aaand breakfast is served,” The giant turned his body to face the tiny figure to his left, although he had a sort of disappointed pout on his face. “Wish we had some syrup or something. Ah, oh well, maybe next time?”

The way his face shifted so quickly and with such ease was fascinating to Hosah, Teddy could go from upset to overjoyed in about half a second, or so, that’s how it looked on the outside.

He offered the palm once more after washing them thoroughly, and this time, Hosah had no trouble diving straight onto it, quickly becoming accustomed to the familiar feeling he thought he’d long forgotten.

In these mundane moments of making breakfast together, it was almost like Hosah could forget there was someone going around killing off shifters like flies being trapped in a cobweb. As if there wasn’t something waiting for him back at the office, hand delivered with his name inked on the front. What it was, he had no idea, and he was enjoying his blissful ignorance too much to dwell. After all, his brain didn’t really work normally at such early hours in the morning, and he was in no rush to reach full conscious stability.

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imvenusasaboy · 3 days

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y’know what they say, go big or go home. Can’t we all just go big *and* go home?

#ZEROARTZEROARTZEROART #YYYYAYAYYAYAAYAY

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imvenusasaboy · 3 days

Text

Scared

Part 25 of my story! Read the index and content warnings here. This chapter gets so gay. Warning to readers: a tiny gets injured in this.

“…and now whenever I go in one door, he goes out the other. It’s almost as if he’s avoiding me on purpose! I don’t understand you men, Mr. Piccoli. You have no idea what behaviour like that does to a girl!” Said Miss Wilkins through the phone.

Joe had no idea what behaviour like that did to a girl, but he certainly knew what it did to a boy. Joe eyed the man who was avoiding him from where he sat down the hallway. It was as if his newfound physical proximity to Harry had driven the two of them apart in every other way. Meanwhile, Harry grabbed his medical bag and prepared to head out.

“Yeah… I hear ya’. I don’t understand it myself.” Joe said. “Tell your father the doctor’s on his way. He won’t be long.”

Bidding Miss Wilkins farewell, he hung up the phone and whistled for Harry. The doctor’s back was turned to Joe, who watched as his shoulders rose with what seemed to be unease. Joe tapped his foot against the table impatiently as Harry took his sweet time turning around to face him. When he eventually did, the giant seemed to be downright nervous, which made Joe nervous by extension.

“Do you want down from the table?” Asked the giant who was obviously stalling.

“Well I sure as hell don’t wanna be put on the roof.” Joe quipped.

Joe watched Harry internally panic for a moment until he finally worked up the nerve to reach out his hand. When Joe stepped into it as he had a hundred times before, there was one major difference: now whenever Joe climbed into Harry’s hand, Harry was as fearful as a young child handling a live animal for the first time. Their interactions had been like this for the last three days, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why.

“…right. Well… if this is a simple chest cold, I’ll be back in a couple hours. If it isn’t, I won’t be back until later tonight." The second he set Joe onto the floor he started backing away. "I uh—I have to hurry, actually. Take care!” Harry said.

"Harry, wait-"

The floorboards shook as the doctor bolted from the scene like a startled deer, throwing Joe off balance. All the little man could do was cross his arms and look on in disapproval. How rude of Harry to leave so suddenly! Joe didn’t even have a chance to tell Harry where he would be going that day, something that could cost him his life if his last trip to Calloway’s was anything to go by!

The last thing Joe wanted to do was return there, but a deal was a deal and fine clothes were fine clothes. Gone were the days of wearing ten year old rags, he had decided. If he had to be a borrower of any sort, he would be an enviable one, a respectable one, winning the approval of tinies and giants alike, and maybe even Harry too.

With any luck, it might even be enough to get Harry to stop running from him.

The month of May was much too fleeting for Joe’s liking, and as dusk fell over the docks he wished there was a way to beg it to stay. Although Joe could hardly enjoy the weather out in the open at his scale, there was something about late spring’s ephemeral nature that gripped him tightly and refused to let go. The last few rays of the sun coloured the lake a beautiful blue, and waters that had once held a monstrosity mere days ago now sat placid and calm, sloshing lazily against the gravel. The scent of fresh grass and spring flowers perfumed the night air as it grew cool and crisp. This giant’s sunset was a borrower’s sunrise, and what a spectacular sunrise it was!

As Joe sat in the dinginess of Calloway’s and waited for the tailor to deliver on his promise, he wished he were watching it instead. The booths were closer to gull’s nests than they were proper tables and chairs, and the twigs always prodded him in the worst possible places. The unpleasantness of it all doubled when a plate of rancid offerings was slid under his nose.

“Say, Cast-iron Joe! You wouldn’t mind taking this off my hands for me, would you?”

It was the voice of Gutters, of course. Joe stared into the plate the way a traumatized war veteran would stare off onto the distance. On it there was a soggy trimming of spinach, an even soggier crumb of bread, and – crown jewel of the dish – egg whites. Two slices of them, each ice cold and utterly joyless.

Joe had no choice but to accept the offering. Anything less would be tantamount to admitting that he was a pet.

“Thanks, Gutters. You’re a real pal.” He said.

The lanky man smirked at him as he slid into the seat across from him, head bobbing with suppressed laughter.

"Saw your owner looking for ya' a few nights ago." Said Gutters.

It took everything in Joe's power to suppress the primordial terror that came over him. He kept his eyes locked onto the sad eggs and prayed that Gutters wouldn't smell his fear as adrenaline surged through him.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about." Joe lied as his heart thumped in his chest.

"Really? You don't know? Rumour has it there was a big guy on the beach calling your name." He said.

Joe shot Gutters a look of pure, concentrated rage. He stabbed his fork into the eggs and twisted it.

"Must've been looking for his dog or something. The hell is it with you, Gutters? You and your pet tiny conspiracy. Can’t you find something better to do?" Said Joe.

"Hey, easy! I'm just looking out for ya', Joe. I know you won't believe me, but I used to be you." Gutters said.

Something about the way Gutters spoke to Joe reminded him of the circus manager: it was a voice rife with insincerity, one clearly in search of a desired reaction. He knew exactly what Gutters was doing. Gutters was testing him, and Joe wasn't having it. As his fear gave way to calculated determination, he found he wasn't scared of losing his ear anymore. He feared losing his agency, an agency he constantly had to fight for, against regular giants, against Harry, and now against his fellow tiny.

"I don't remember asking for the help." Joe stated.

With those words, Joe locked eyes with the man across from him and saw that they were full of contempt. Gutters simply sighed in response the way a parent would sigh over a misbehaving child. Then a strange sadness seemed to possess him, one Joe had never seen before, and for one ghost of a second all the insincerity left his voice to the point Joe was thrown by what he said next.

"Just remember something for me, will ya'? If they say they love you, maybe it means they love you now, but that could change by tomorrow. They think we're stupid, Joe. They always will. They're evil." Gutters warned.

Joe tilted his head back and looked straight down his nose at Gutters. Oh, Joe knew damn well the giants were evil. He was well aware they thought tinies were stupid, too. What Gutters didn’t realize, as far as Joe was concerned, was that he was treating him no differently than any giant would.

"You obviously think I'm stupid too if you're gonna sit here and lecture me about how to live my life. What makes you any different?" Joe's voice was deadpan as he spoke. “You can sit here and act like you know what’s best for me all you want, pal, but my business is my business.”

Joe could tell by the look on Gutters' face that his opponent was stumped by this response. Victoriously, Joe took one, performative bite of his cold eggs and forced himself to swallow them down as Gutters' once rational demeanour twisted into something ugly and dark. His hand shot towards Joe faster than lightning, but Joe, who was done being talked down to by anyone, for any reason, didn’t break eye contact when it snatched his collar and pulled him in.

“Listen here, you cockroach! You might be able to lie to everyone else, but you’re not gonna lie to me! I saw what I saw.” Gutters growled.

Joe’s hands curled into fists. Joe was not a fighting man, but he was cornered and angry, which in turn made him capable of anything.

“You don’t scare me.” Joe hissed, not blinking once as he stared into Gutters’ icy eyes.

He was on the verge of throwing one of those fists when the tension was broken by a low laugh that drifted over from the bar counter.

"You can't see your own hand in front of your face, Gutters. Everyone knows that." Calloway said without even looking up from the glass he was polishing. "You're just jealous he's got himself a rich boyfriend."

"I saw what I saw." Gutters repeated.

“The hell you keeping tabs on Joe for anyways? You like him? Jealous or something? C’mon.” Said Calloway.

Joe, still halfway prepared to fling Gutters across the table, breathed a sigh of relief when his nemesis released him.

“…fine. Learn the hard way. Idiots like you are beyond helping.” Gutters said.

When Gutters released him unceremoniously and retreated to the other end of the bar, a lead weight may as well have been lifted from Joe's chest. The captain sidled up to Joe’s booth soon after, and his presence was as welcome as a breath of fresh spring air. He poured Joe a glass of spills, though after his experience the other day Joe wasn’t about to risk drinking it.

“Don’t let him get to ya’. He’s just taking his own baggage out on you, that’s all. How’s the sweetheart?” Asked Calloway.

“The uh… oh.” It took Joe a moment to remember the lie he had been telling. “Well, he'll let me sleep near him and everything, but now he won’t talk to me.” He explained.

Calloway cackled as he dusted off the twiggy booth.

“That right? Is this guy uh… unseasoned, by any chance?” Calloway's voice was low and conspiratorial, and a raised eyebrow arched over his eyepatch.

Joe nearly spat out his eggs at the question. It was something he had neither considered nor wanted to consider, but now that the subject had been brought up he knew it was going to live in his head rent free.

“I don’t know!” Joe stammered. “Haven’t asked him.”

Captain Calloway nodded.

“Well he’s acting pretty unexperienced if he can barely handle sleeping in the same room as you. See, that’s why the tailor needs to hurry up and get here. Get yourself into something nice, ease him into it, then he’ll be all over you!” The captain said.

Joe, meanwhile, was covering his face in sheer embarrassment and resisting the urge to rip his skin off completely and crawl out of it.

“I didn’t ask for your advice.” Joe groaned.

Captain Calloway gave a half-hearted shrug.

“That’ll still be 200 scraps regardless. I’ll give you the unsolicited advice discount.”

The tailor had arrived just in the nick of time, and Joe had escaped with an elegant fabric bag and whatever was left of his dignity. The lake and the bucket arm seemed to pity him today, for after that dreadful time at Calloway’s they didn’t even bother trying to take his life. Even the snatcher and the turtle were absent that night, and the streetcar was calm as could be.

Things were shaping up to be a little too easy, but Joe pushed that thought aside as he scampered from the trolley in a direction he thought led to home. Traveling as a miniature was an inexact art, especially where the streetcar was concerned. Sometimes Joe could head straight home without hassle; other times he would end up in the general vicinity of home and improvise. The latter was the situation he found himself in after getting off on Gerrard Street and wandering onto the edge of Riverdale Park. With the night growing older, he looked for a landmark as he always did. Tiny Town in all its electric glory would do just nicely considering it was very well lit at night.

Lit up with torches, Joe noted.

He squinted at the angry mob of miniatures that spilled out of the town's gates and watched as it descended upon a single fleeing individual. Though he immediately felt uneasy, his feet automatically carried him closer and closer to the spectacle. When he was near enough, he could see that a man was running at light speed across the field as the crowd pursued him. So hasty was the target of the crowd's ire that he didn't appear to notice a dip in the ground. It tripped the escapee and he landed violently, too shaken to get up. Joe's stomach twisted into knots as the leader of the gang loomed over the victim. He didn't tear his eyes away until the ringleader of the mob knelt on top of the target, pinched the man's ear, took his knife and-

-Joe could have sworn it was O'Grady wielding that knife.

That was enough for him. He turned around and sprinted as fast as the newly marked tiny had, taking care to watch his footing for fear he might be the next victim. Bolting into the darkness that swallowed him, he fought back tears as he wondered what evil force was possessing his fellow miniature.

When he stopped to catch his breath, a new idea came to him. Maybe tinies were just as evil as the giants were. The giants may have invented Tiny Town from what Joe could tell, but it was the tinies who invented marking. Oddly enough, Joe found himself equal parts disgusted and comforted by this thought. It meant he had nothing to lose by living as he did. It re-enforced what Joe had known to be true deep down all along: that he wasn't just a stupid borrower. He could understand the evils of war and suffering just like anyone else. He could look his own potential ruination in the face and decide it was a risk worth taking.

Faced with that grisly sight outside of Tiny Town, Joe had no choice but to make peace with his new understanding of evil.

The clothes were high self-esteem in fabric form. It was the latest in townie fashion: a light blue-grey suit not unlike the ones the giants wore, with a hat and shoes to go with it. Clean as a whistle and dressed to kill, the reflection that stared back at Joe from the blade of the abandoned butter knife may as well have been that of a completely different person. As he tilted his hat this way and that, trying to get it at a perfect angle that would complement his cheekbones, he wondered if Mr. Dawson would be impressed.

With that passing thought, all the horror of the night crept back over him like a cursed miasma. Although Joe had made it back home to the safety of the kitchen, he was still small and alone in a house endless and empty, and an eerie feeling came over him. He kept expecting something, or someone, to find him and attack him, to grab him by the neck or to cut off his ear - the specifics didn't matter. For years he had lived in the Stinson House without this vulnerable feeling coming over him. Then again, maybe it had always been there, and Joe had tuned it out in order to function. Now that he was sleeping in Harry’s room, he was beginning to understand what real safety felt like. It was another form of forbidden knowledge, he supposed, another thing he would miss so much in its absence that he could never bear to part with it in the first place.

The sound of Harry’s key in the front door exorcised the sense of trepidation immediately, though Joe still hid behind the cookie tin out of principle. Light after light went on in the hallway, then the parlour, and then finally the kitchen, until the darkness was purged completely and only the giant remained. Although some part of him debated remaining hidden and saving the surprise of his new clothes for later, another more tender part couldn’t resist being with Harry in that moment. For three days now Harry had been avoiding him, but Joe, especially now, couldn’t bear to avoid Harry.

So he stepped out from behind the tin and whistled as the contemplative giant leaned over the sink. As had been the case for the last three days, Harry’s eyes widened and that look of unease came over him. Now there was a new development: the giant’s face turned bright red at the sight of him.

Unseasoned. The word crept back into Joe’s mind. Calloway had a point, he realized; Harry wasn’t acting all that different from some of the lesser-experienced boys of Joe’s own size that he had toyed with. Surely, though, Harry didn’t find Joe attractive. That would be absurd!

When the giant said nothing at the sight of him, Joe took a few more cautious steps forward as the moment grew increasingly awkward. Heart-rate rising, he cleared his throat and said,

“Waddaya think?”

Harry kept on staring.

“Uhhhhhhhhh… I uh…” Sputtered the giant who was not at all thinking.

Harry rubbed his hand over his face and collected himself. Joe’s heart swelled with pride when he saw that a familiar look of wonder had returned to the doctor’s eyes. He felt oddly powerful in that moment, as he so often did at Calloway’s whenever he was drunk and flirtatious. Pretending he was there instead, he gave Harry his coyest smile and took his hat off to the giant.

“I took your advice and went clothes shopping. Thought you might wanna admire the stitching.” Joe said, thoroughly enjoying Harry’s reaction.

Absurd as it was, imagining Harry as just another flustered boy he was hitting on at a bar seemed to be helping. At the very least, the giant hadn’t turned tail and run yet. Joe kept drawing closer.

“You can have a look if you want.” He offered.

“I… okay.” Harry said, his voice wavering with surprise.

Still thoroughly malfunctioning, Harry extended his hand to Joe who noted that it was visibly shaking. Joe climbed in, careful of it at first. When he saw that Harry’s hand was clean, he didn’t stand in it, or sit in it for that matter, but lounged in it as though he owned it, then smiled up at the jittery giant who dutifully carried him upstairs.

“So how’d the visit go?” Asked Joe.

Harry shook his head gravely.

“It wasn’t a cold. Miss Wilkins’ father came down with tuberculosis. I spent the day arranging for him to be taken to the sanatorium and comforting the family.” Harry said.

Joe had no idea what to say to such a thing. In his ten years as a hermit, it was a rare occasion when he had to comfort anyone. He tried his best for Harry's sake.

“Are you all right after that?" He said.

“I'll live. It's part of the job." Harry assured him.

"Yeah, well, it's a shit job." Joe said. "You sure you'll be all right?"

"I'm sure. At least one of us had a good day by the looks of it.” Harry replied.

Joe suppressed his nervous laughter. Thought of the gruesome occurrence at Tiny Town had melted away when Harry showed up, but now it came back again in full force. He wanted to deny it away, to bury it, to pretend everything was all right. Instead, when he disembarked Harry’s hand, he stood before his new bed on the nightstand and debated with himself over whether or not to talk about it. Ultimately he decided that he wanted Harry to know. He wanted the giant to understand that tinies were also capable of evil. Maybe if he did, he would finally stop sheltering Joe.

He couldn’t turn around to face Harry when he said what came next.

“Saw a guy get marked today outside of Tiny Town today.” Joe could feel the giant’s concerned eyes on his back. “A whole crowd chased him down. I don’t know what he did. I just ran. Maybe I should’ve done more to help. Tinies are just… we’re evil, Harry. We’re just as bad as you are sometimes.”

Joe was fighting back tears again as he turned to face Harry. The giant was sitting on the bed with his chin in his hand, looking deeply worried.

“I’m glad you came home in one piece.” Harry said.

“We gotta do something about that place, Harry! Find out what’s going on. The professor might know… I should call him.” Said Joe.

“Do it tomorrow when the poor man’s awake.” The giant advised him. Then his brow furrowed. “...why didn’t you tell me you were going there?”

“You left before I could! You ran off so fast today I didn’t even get a chance to bring it up!” Joe exclaimed.

Harry’s face fell.

“…I did, didn’t I? I’m sorry for running off on you like that.” He said.

Joe had said enough about Tiny Town, he decided - more than he could stand to say. He didn’t want to dwell on the horror any further, so he shoved it away and turned his ire against Harry instead.

“Yeah, well, you should be. What’s gotten into you lately, anyways? You don’t talk over breakfast, you won’t read with me, any other time you’re busy with your files, and when I try and say anything you run out the door!” Joe ranted at Harry, who had gotten up and started rifling through his dresser. “You’re gonna leave right now, aren’t you?”

Harry froze.

“I uh… I have to get changed.” Harry insisted.

Joe crossed his arms.

“Then do it when I’m done telling you off. This is important, Harry.” Joe said. “You still scared you’re brainwashing me or something?”

Harry shook his head no. As the giant clutched his pajamas and cast a defeated look off to the side, a strange feeling of satisfaction came over Joe. It was there on the nightstand, dressed in his finest, that Joe embraced his twisted nature. He wanted Harry, and by extension he wanted to know about Harry, to learn who the real Harry was. He couldn’t do that if the giant was constantly hiding from him.

“I’m just… not good at taking compliments, I guess.” Harry said.

Joe tilted his head at him in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“The other day, you were drunk at the time and you ah… said something very nice to me.” Harry explained.

Joe couldn’t help but laugh. The horror and anger fled from him again at the sheer ridiculousness of Harry’s statement.

“That’s what you’re wound up about? Really!?” Joe cried.

The embarrassed giant nodded at him and Joe, little devil that he was, immediately took aim at Harry’s weak spot and fired away.

“Well what did I say? Did I say you were smart or handsome or kind or something?”

Joe watched in delight as Harry grew so worked up his only usable hand started to fidget. The giant sank back down onto the bed and sat there as Joe smiled with cruel joy.

“…I’m not going to repeat it.” Harry said.

“Did I say you have a nice ass? ‘cause we can add that one to the pile.” Joe continued.

“What!?”

“I said what I said.”

Poor Harry looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. Joe, meanwhile, was laughing in sadistic glee as Harry looked at him helplessly.

“What are you so afraid of?” Joe threw the question at Harry in the same deadpan fashion he had done with Gutters earlier.

“You.” Harry admitted.

“Me? Little old me? Really, Harry?” Joe said.

Harry? Afraid of him? This knowledge turned the entire world on its head. All this time he hadn’t thought it possible for Harry to get flustered at him. He had imagined the doctor a cool seducer, even, hellbent on getting Joe riled up. Learning it was the exact opposite changed everything! So Harry wasn't a seductor. He was a precious, darling innocent ignorant to the wonderful world of boys. Was that really why Harry was blushing at him so intensely?

Joe had no better option than to test his theory. He shrugged off his suit jacket and hung it over the metal lighter on the nightstand, then took off his waistcoat and tie for good measure. What he was about to do was thoroughly unprecedented. His inner, sexually confused twelve-year-old was screaming at the mere thought of it. Still, it had to be done, for Harry’s sake and for Joe’s as well.

First he took a few steps back and judged the distance from the nightstand to Harry’s left knee, then he sprinted at full speed and launched himself toward it. Harry jumped and yelped when he landed – predictably – and Joe scrambled to stay balanced as the giant panicked. Within seconds Joe was swept into Harry’s hand, and as he lay there he gave the doctor the best puppydog eyes he could muster.

“Harry, there’s a lot of awful shit in this world you need to be afraid of, but I’m not one of ‘em. You know that.” Joe assured him. “Tuberculosis, Tiny Town, that’s shit worth being afraid of. Not me.”

“…right.” Harry said.

He couldn’t stop smiling up at Harry. The giant was innocent, painfully so if the dumbstruck look on his face was anything to go by. Joe wouldn’t dare corrupt that innocence, but he would use his newfound knowledge to bridge the growing gap between them. He sat up.

“But hey, here’s an idea: if you wanna be scared you can go ahead and be scared, but that’s no reason to avoid me. Wanting to run away is normal but we’ve been through too much shit for that. Just do it scared.” Joe said.

“I’ll try to do that.” Harry sighed.

With that, a timid smile came over Harry and his thumb started stroking Joe’s face the way it used to. Joe, triumphant, leaned in to Harry’s touch. He was proud of himself, for in an odd way Joe had caught the giant, had lured him in and cornered him. Harry had no excuse now. He would have to stop running and start enduring.

“By the way, there’s something I’ve been meaning to show you…” Joe said.

Next chapter coming soon!

#RAHHHHH #i’m going crazy!#UAAAGH #love! happiness!

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imvenusasaboy · 3 days

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I remembered I made this drawing a while ago (⁠◕⁠દ⁠◕⁠) They don't have an story, I'm not even making plans to give them one in the future, what do you think it would be???

I'll let you have this while I'm making new things.

Uuu, fun fact, I used myself as a reference for lighting because I couldn't get it right

#so pretty…#I am entranced..#beautiful!

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imvenusasaboy · 4 days

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Food of the Gods

I am NOT colouring this ever lmao

#RAH niceeee!#I like it!

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imvenusasaboy · 6 days

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°｡⋆𓋼𓍊☆𓍊𓋼⋆｡° butterfly gowon °｡⋆𓋼𓍊☆𓍊𓋼⋆｡°

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imvenusasaboy · 6 days

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Sorry for the delay with next chapter, I finally finished my art exam yesterday, so I’ll be starting writing today :)!!

#Hai #Haihai #Rah #I’m. will gonna am write #Tonight!

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imvenusasaboy · 7 days

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It’s shoulder ride autumn ❤️ I think… Idk LMK

#another one thank you

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imvenusasaboy · 7 days

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Just a little crush ❤️

Haha get it

😇

#another one thank you

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imvenusasaboy · 7 days

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lol get ruffled LOSER

#another one thank y #ou

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imvenusasaboy · 7 days

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LOVE WINS………

#rbing my things because I wantto

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imvenusasaboy · 9 days

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boyfriends core (take these ocs away from me)

#Hey Luka #This is me to you #And to your drawing #Thanks #I like this #I like it a lot #I like it too much actually.

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imvenusasaboy · 9 days

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A Small and Precious Thing

Part 24 of my story! See the index and content warnings here. In which Harry drools at Joe like a cartoon wolf while convincing himself he's not gay.

Harry Avery barely held himself together that day. He sat through appointment after appointment, assessed patient after patient, but each time part of him was somewhere else entirely, worrying about the tiny man who now lay passed out upstairs. Now that the day was done emotions boiled between his ears like the water in the pot in front of him. He couldn’t even tell what they were at this point. Anger? Outrage? Disappointment? Fear? What did Joe think he was doing ending up drunk in a lake like that?

He tossed a coin of ginger root into the pot as he dwelled on the events of the day, dissecting and quantifying and rationalizing. One question above all others still persisted in his mind: is this the right thing to do?

Harry still couldn’t answer. Joe was tough stuff; that much was apparent. The little man could hold his liquor down. Joe had been thoroughly green the entire journey home but hadn’t once thrown up, which was more than Harry could say for himself whenever he had been in Joe’s shoes. The so-called floating thing by the lake which Harry had gone in search of that morning had been considerably far away from the Stinson House, much further than expected. To think that Joe traveled all the way across the city with such regularity astounded Harry. Maybe Joe could make his own decisions, but would they be safe decisions? Could he really trust Joe’s judgment when he had found him at the mercy of a snapping turtle?

Then there was the fact that Joe had the audacity to horse around after nearly getting bitten in half. To look him in the eyes and call him a big, sexy giant on top of everything else. It was practically an insult. Surely Joe had been joking with those words, but joking in what way? How big was big he wondered? How sexy was sexy? How giant, exactly, was giant?

He could only hope that Joe had been joking. Anything else disturbed Harry far too much to think about. Whatever pathological attraction Joe had towards Harry was sure to get him killed, just as his own attraction to Georgie had gotten that boy killed. He knew what the medical journals had to say about homosexuals; hell, he had read them! He had to give himself some credit, however. The little bastard had been drunk as a skunk, lying helplessly in his hand, and the worst Harry had done was march him straight upstairs to tuck him into bed. Whatever pathology Harry himself had, it had not gotten the best of him yet.

Harry tried to put it all out of his mind as he eye-droppered the ginger tea into the misshapen glass he had plucked from the floorboards, then carried it upstairs to his live-in patient.

Sure enough, Joe was stirring as nighttime crept closer. As he approached the nightstand he could see that the poor man was thrashing in his sleep and rubbing his face. Joe had been fully clothed when Harry had tucked him in, but sometime during his nap he had shrugged his jacket off and tossed it aside. He watched as Joe jolted awake from whatever nightmare he was having and sat up in a slump.

“…shit.” Was his greeting to Harry.

Joe gave him a lazy wave for good measure, then when he’d gotten his bearings he started removing his shirt without a second thought. Disrobing without a care for Harry's presence was a strange tendency of Joe’s, and normally when he did it Harry fled the room accordingly. This proved to be a challenge now that he was holding a minuscule glass of boiling hot ginger in his only usable hand - one that he didn’t want to run all the way back downstairs to refill in the event it spilled.

Much as he wanted to look away, he decided to assess Joe’s condition instead. That’s all he was doing, he told himself. That or he was brushing up on his anatomy, perhaps: deltoid, biceps brachii, brachioradialis, all of these muscles were ones he could plainly see on Joe’s arms now, where before the poor man had been skeleton thin. He was thrown for a moment upon realizing just how toned Joe was, though it made sense with the sheer amount of climbing the man did in a day. It was the body of a dancer or a figure skater – something graceful and beautiful that was built to move with ease.

“What?”

Joe’s sharp glare drew Harry’s attention to the fact that he was staring. Immediately he went rigid and tried to wipe the dumbstruck look off his face as the tiny glass quivered in his fingers. He reached out and handed it to Joe. Previously, all Harry had needed to do was look at Joe and the miniature would start blushing. Now the roles were reversed, and Harry could feel himself turning scarlet red with embarrassment.

“Brought something to help sober you up.” He said.

Joe took the glass and sniffed at it, rubbing at his head with one hand.

“What’s this? Ginger? You got any willow bark to go with that?” He asked.

“I don’t, I’m afraid.” Harry said.

“Nothing for a headache at all?”

Harry shook his head no. There wasn't anything Harry had on hand that wouldn’t run the risk of poisoning Joe if improperly dosed, and Harry wasn't competent enough in miniature medicine to try. Joe cursed under his breath in response and chugged the ginger tea. To Harry’s horror he realized he could not take his eyes off of Joe. It was getting awkward. He had to say something.

“Do you… usually do that?” Harry stammered.

“Do what?” The hung over miniature asked him.

“Go to the lake and drink.” He said.

Joe polished off the last of the ginger tea and lounged in his new bed.

“Sometimes. When I’m really pissed I do.” Said Joe.

Harry braced himself. He knew they had a score to settle.

“I’m tired of being the tiny, Harry. And you being the—y’know. I can make my own damn decisions.”

“Me being the what? The big, sexy giant?” Was what Harry wanted to say.

What he said instead was,

“Well, whatever decisions you made last night ended with you drunk in a tin can with a turtle after you.”

Joe squinted at him.

“What? That’s bullshit. You’re lying.” Joe said.

“Tell me something, Joe. What animal were you dreaming about just now?” Harry replied.

Joe's scowl only deepened.

“That’s not important!” He said.

So Joe didn’t remember the turtle. That must mean he didn’t remember what he had said after the turtle either, Harry realized. Some part of him wanted to bring it up but he had no idea how he would even broach such a conversation. For all he knew, Joe would be downright offended if he did. Right then and there Harry decided that he would put whatever drunk Joe had said out of mind and take it to the grave for good measure. Harry, though he hated to admit it, was afraid – not of Joe himself, but what Joe represented.

“I’m tired of being the tiny.” Joe reiterated.

Harry watched in bewilderment as Joe curled up into the crisp, white towel. He was still at a loss for words when Joe’s head perked up from below the blankets.

“Hey. Could you do me a favour? Could you bring me my clothes?” Joe asked.

“Which ones?”

“All of them.”

All of them? The ring box, in other words, Harry reasoned. Harry, who would do almost anything for Joe at that point, had no other option but to comply. He marched all the way back downstairs to the kitchen, grabbed the ring box, and marched all the way back upstairs with it again. He presented it to Joe as though he were the tiny man’s personal waitstaff, and Joe gave a catlike grin in satisfaction.

“Put that over there.” He gestured to his right. “Then get me my shelf.”

“Your shelf…?” Harry said as he set the ring box down and looked at Joe in confusion.

Joe simply nodded as he gazed up at Harry with an expression the giant couldn’t pin down. He was smiling in a very self-satisfied way, but there was something else to it. Mischief, perhaps.

“And my plates, too. Don’t break ‘em.” Joe ordered.

Harry, who by this point was sick and tired of arguing with Joe, nodded awkwardly and ventured downstairs once again, mentally replaying every event in his life that led up to the current moment. He knelt down and contemplated the logistics of single-handedly transporting the “shelf” – the cracked ring dish that held Joe’s heirloom plates. He settled for carefully setting the three plates down flat and stacking them on top of each other on the ring dish, then picking up the dish in its entirety with all the care of a waiter at a busy restaurant. Keeping one thumb on the stack of plates, he took a moment to mentally fortify himself for the anxiety-ridden journey ahead, then transported the precious cargo upstairs. He held his breath all the while and didn’t start breathing again until he reached the upstairs bedroom.

Joe was, fortunately, fully clothed in his pajamas when Harry returned to the nightstand. Harry set the ring dish down by the wardrobe unprompted.

“I’m not touching that again. You'll have to move it yourself.” He said.

Joe immediately went to inspect the plates. Right when Harry was about to sit down on the bed and give himself a break, he heard the last thing he wanted to hear.

“Aw, Harry, you broke one!” Joe cried.

“What!? Let me see!”

Harry jumped back up again, now on the verge of a stroke. It was bad enough that the two had been fighting; a broken plate was the last thing he needed.

Joe only laughed in response.

“Take it easy. I was just messing with ya’. God, the look on your face!" Joe said.

Harry gave Joe a dirty look as he prepared to sit back down, only for Joe to interrupt him again.

“…but while you’re up, there’s a couple more things I need you to grab for me.” He said. “The rest of my novels and a matchbook with some other stuff in it. Don’t open it! The rest can stay downstairs.” Joe halfheartedly waved a hand as he went about setting up his plates. “Then I’ll be all set.”

Now knee-deep in the sunk-cost fallacy, Harry obediently went back downstairs once again to fetch the stack of novels and the matchbook. He had grabbed everything else at this point, so why not these, he reasoned? He had seen the novels before, but the matchbook intrigued him. It was a small one he remembered receiving at a restaurant a while ago, about an inch and a half in size, and he could now see that it was filled with paper. He could only guess that this matchbook was where Joe was hiding his art.

True to Joe’s wishes he didn’t open it; he simply marched everything upstairs and placed it in front of Joe like a hunting dog retrieving game. He watched as Joe stacked the novels up beside the soap dish and then heaved the matchbook, which was quite large in comparison to his size, onto his new bed. Harry leaned over curiously when it appeared that he was about to open it, but Joe hesitated in the last second and eyed him with suspicion.

“I don’t think I'll show you this yet.” Joe said.

“Why not?” Asked Harry.

“’cause I’m still kinda mad at you.” Joe sneered.

“Haven’t I redeemed myself? I saved you from the turtle, didn’t I?” Harry’s tone grew more and more emphatic as Joe crossed his arms and turned up his nose. “And I just moved your entire house for you, too, after you invited yourself into my bedroom no less!”

Joe let out one single, smug laugh.

“So you admit it. I’m up here because I manipulated you, and not because you manipulated me.” Joe said.

It was only now that it struck Harry how seamlessly Joe had used him as a de-facto moving service. It was hard to stay upset at him for it as he watched this endearing little man shuffle through his endearing little things. It had been fascinating enough to see Joe’s living space from beneath the floorboards, but to see it right there on his nightstand was mind-boggling. He tried to find some way to argue Joe’s point but soon realized he couldn’t.

“Fine. You can stay here if you want. I’ll listen.” Harry promised him.

Joe’s nose was still in the air, but he was smiling now.

“I’m sure you will. You have to. If I’m gonna be the tiny, then it means you have to be the giant and do everything I say all the time.” He said.

When Harry finally sat down on the bed, he found himself smiling at Joe. Now he could fully appreciate what sway Joe had over him. It was that desire of Harry’s to help and to heal that Joe had played like a fiddle. It was what had allowed Joe to live rent-free in the Stinson House. What had drawn Harry to the docks in search of him during the wee hours of the morning. What had now allowed Joe to set up camp on his nightstand. Tiny or not, Harry couldn’t help but begrudgingly respect the fact that Joe held his own subtle power over Harry, a force silent and invisible but no less potent than the power Harry held over Joe.

“So what do I have to do to see your art?” Harry asked.

“You have to not make me mad at you.” Joe answered.

Joe tossed the matchbook aside, but one page in particular had other plans. It went flying out and landed on the hand towel, and Joe grabbed it and clutched it to his chest – but not before Harry caught a glimpse of it. They were more studies of hands, only these ones were accompanied by miniature figures, some being held, some perching upon them, some hugging the fingers as Joe had after their trip to the circus. Harry leaned in, fascinated by them. There was something so raw, so tender, so affectionate about the artwork that it couldn’t help but strike a very deep chord with him.

Joe, meanwhile, was mortified.

“…and don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong!” Joe snapped.

“All right! That’s your business.” Harry showed his palms. “…those are very good, by the way.”

Joe, for reasons Harry couldn’t discern, appeared even more stricken.

“Yeah, well… we’re not supposed to draw this kind of stuff, so pretend you didn’t see it.” Joe said.

Something about Joe’s reaction provoked an uneasy thought in Harry. What if Joe hadn’t been joking when he made that big, sexy giant remark? What if Joe on some level was just like he was, a deviant maligned by society. Wasn't that the case for most artists? What would Harry do then? Certainly, Harry cared for Joe, but the prospect of loving him now stretched out before him like an endless, terrifying sea.

“Whatever you say.” The giant said.

He lowered himself into the bed and watched as Joe, who was now wide awake, sorted through drawings and studies that Harry was no longer privy to. He contemplated what he was getting himself into as he did so. The only person who had held this much sway over Harry had been Georgie, and that friendship had ended as well as anyone would have expected: when Harry had confessed his love to Georgie on the eve of the day the two were both fated to die, Georgie’s response had been,

“Go to hell.”

Georgie had then stomped off, and shortly after Harry had been assigned stretcher duty. Maybe if Harry had never said such a thing, if he had never made Georgie walk off the way he did, Georgie would have carried stretchers along with him and lived instead of coming back on one in pieces.

Harry’s love was a dangerous thing, and Joe was a delicate being, a small and precious thing, intricate as the artwork he created. Yet whether Harry liked it or not, he had been tamed by Joe. He was as much Joe’s pet now as Joe was Harry’s pet. Maybe this wasn’t the right thing to do. Then again, maybe it was. Maybe there was no easy answer.

Maybe the both of them were thoroughly beyond helping, Harry feared.

As Harry drifted off to sleep to the sound of the scratching of Joe’s charcoal on paper, one thing was certain: Joe wasn’t just a tiny to Harry. He was so much more than that.

Next part coming soon!

#my live reaction #(positive)#RAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH #woke up in a cold sweat knowing subconsciously about this notification #I lub them

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