Gt-preys

my commission from living legend @itsdancingquen: the lovers catch each other's eye in the Beat

But when they do catch the tiny's gaze, it's just a wide, tearful stare. Their eyes focus on the giants hands to see if they'll hurt them. Looking at the giant's eyes to gauge their emotions, to see if there's any intent behind them.

The giant doesn't expect, nor want this reaction. whether this tiny is a stranger or a friend, the fact that they are viewed as an instrument of destruction rather than a real living thing pains them.

inspired by Fire (please don't) walk with me by @ihni

hes a plot point. an object used for max's development. but he could've been. but the duffer brothers were too lazy to actually put the effort in to redeem him properly. so they took the easy way out and hoped it'd work to kill him off in a hero's sacrifice. which feels hollow and unemotional as he was literally a puppet for 95% of the season.

but they dropped all these hints to deeper shit they could've used to make an actual character-an interesting one too. that they did absolutely nothing with and is never mentioned again.

billy being abandoned by his mother and left with his abusive dad who punishes him for his stepsister's perceived bad behavior. that same father ridiculing him over his perceived masculinity, and calling him slurs when he doesn't perform. a step mom who sees it but doesn't intervene. moved from his hometown against his will. hes alone in a town he hates. no friends, no freedom. he cant even surf any more.

the animosity betweeen billy and max being about the move to hawkins. something mentioned several times but never explained. they both blame each other for it. billys performative masculinity, yet his clear obsession with steve harrington. calling steve pretty boy, the one earring, the very specific slur his father uses against him.

ALL of that is just canon.

now, billy is an asshole straight up. he threatened to run over a bunch of kids for no reason and broke max's skateboard. like yeah. hes such an ass. but theres a lot of complex shit packed in there.

he was screaming for help when he gets possessed, watching himself kill people. he's literally screaming. and nobody gives a single fuck (except for max) and that makes sense for the characters as they've been treated pretty horribly by billy. but he was 17 years old. he never got a chance to change or to even realize he wanted to. thats fucking depressing. him being an abuse victim (and nowhere near a perfect one) means he never got to grow outside of the box hed been shoved in. he never got to be anything else.

"billy was a bad person"

Now I've been thinking, Billy has never been the big spoon, ever. Before Eddie Billy never did the staying and cuddling after sex thing. But before Billy could even think about getting up that first time, Eddie slung his arm over him. He still tried to leave, scooted closer to the edge of the bed, but Eddie made this angry grumbling noise and just held him tighter. And that was that, Billy was staying.

They keep fucking, Billy keeps staying the little spoon, and at some point there doesn't need to be any sex for them to cuddle. It just happens, maybe they're even dating, who knows, whatever, Billy doesn't want to answer that question.

Anyway, one night Billy can't sleep and comes over in the middle of the night. Eddie is fast asleep, lying on his side, facing the wall. Billy gets undressed and slides under the covers next to him, the movement wakes Eddie just enough to give a hum of acknowledgment. And so what if Billy expected him to roll over and sling his arm over his waist like usual? It's fine, he can sleep just fine on his back, or his front, or his side, or his other side... Or maybe not.

He looks over at Eddie, his figure a dark silhouette, his shoulder slightly rising and falling in time with his breathing.

Billy has never been big spoon before

It can't be that hard, it's cuddling, what's so hard about cuddling? He's just gotta slide his arm around Eddie's waist and his other arm goes...

"Eddie?"

"What?"

"...Where does my other arm go?"

"Wherever."

Oh wow, thanks, so helpful.

Billy thinks for a second before deciding to slide his arm under Eddie. Eddie does that sometimes, and it's comfortable enough for Billy now. Billy relaxes, ready to pass out.

However, minor complications, his hand it staring to tingle and he's got a face full of hair. Billy slides his arm free, flexes his hand, rubs his nose. He tries tries a differing position, and another, and- Eddie makes that angry grumbling noise again and sits upright.

It's too dark for Billy to see the expression on his face but he guesses it's somewhere between agitated and seething. "Turn around."

Eddie's tone of voice leaves no room for arguing, not that Billy wants to, he obliges. (Like the good boy he is.)

Eddie slots in behind him

"Whiney bitch." Eddie mumbles as he slots in behind him, one arm over his waist and the other wherever the fuck he puts it.

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

~

Imagine waking up one day and you notice that the bathroom mirror is....off. The toothbrush feels bulkier in your hand. The bowls you use for cereal are an inch further back. All little things that can be waved away on their own, but the more you notice the more you try to block it out. By night your clothes feel loose but somehow despite your anxiety you fall asleep.

In the morning you wake up and try not to scream.

Your clothes hang over your body like they're a size too big. Your hair brush is heavier. Your door frame is too high up. No, no, it's not possible. It's not. This is all just a very bad dream and you're going to wake up and be fine.

By dinner time you can barely reach the cereal bowls.

The next morning you're tying your clothes with rubber bands when your phone goes off. You know who it is even before you pick up. It's your best friend. You two were close. Thick as thieves. And now you've blown off your friend twice already, and you can't even use work as an excuse because they were usually your ride.

You can't convince them to stay away. They insist on coming over, cuts through your weak protests, and hangs up before you can truly object.

You lock the door, even though they have a spare key. You could get in your car and drive off, but do you really wanna be behind the wheel right now? You haven't even gone outside since this started. Anxiously, you reach for the bowls, heart shaking when your fingers barely even reach the shelf. It's slow, and not too debilitating right now, but.....you're shrinking.

Footsteps sound up the stairs outside of your apartment, and without thinking you rush to your room, tripping over your too long pants, closing the door right as your friend walks in and calls out your name.

You hear them pad over, feel them knock through your hand on the door. 

"You okay?"

"I'm fine!"

"Yeah? Cuz three days of not showing up at work obviously means you're okay."

Silence, as you scramble to think of a good excuse. One that won't have them checking on you.

"(Y/N)?"

The door handle twists and the wood pushes in. You slam your weight against it and plead with them not to come in, and thankfully they stop, the door cracked open three inches.

"(Y/N)..." their voice is softer now. "Are you okay? Really? Do you....need help?"

You hang your head, staring at the lock on the door. You've never used it, it slipped your mind in all honesty. Probably would've been a big help. But it's useless now. "I.... I don't know....."

"Okay..... how about I come in and we can figure it out?"

You don't answer, but they feel your weight fade from the door and take that as their cue to gently come in.

They starts when they see you. Eyebrows furrow in concern, some hint of recognition being pushed aside to make way for confusion and befuddlement. You quiver, frozen in place. You've only lost a foot of height but it's enough that you have to look up at them. The silence stretches on far too long, and when they break it you wince. "Oh."

From there it's a blur. You stay with them, refuse to get checked out, don't want to be poked and prodded at, and they help you pack a bag. It's only when they press a hand to your back and pull you into a hug that you feel like everything is going to be okay.

They let you pick out a room while they make lunch, even find a step stool for you. You talk more, resulting in more unanswered questions. No one in your family has ever gone through something like this, and you're not about to ask now. That night you go to your room only to toss and turn all night.

~

You slowly dwindle in size. Each day they measure you against the wall and mark it. It's steady, even if it doesn't feel like it. You've taken to sleeping in their room, feeling anxiety when you're apart for too long. They feel it, too. You see it in the relief in their eyes, feel it in how quick they are to bundle you against them.

One morning you wake up to find the collar of your new shirt already too big and exposing your shoulder. Something wet is running against it, warm and soft lips pressing in before teeth do and instead of jerking away you sigh happily and bare your neck to give them easier access. Hard teeth bite down slow and gentle, coaxing a shiver out of you, and that's when they snap out of it and pull away to apologize.

~

Half height, now. You've become obsessed with their stomach. Staring at it, laying against it, pressing your ear against them to hear the soft gurgles and groans that seem to call out to you.

Something is happening to them, too. More and more often you wake up to their teeth in you, or to their lips sucking on whatever they can fit around, or to their tongue dragging up your cheek. They stare at you like you're a piece of meat, and in the same gaze tell you that you're the only thing on their mind. Neither of you say it out loud, not yet, but you know what's going to happen when you stop shrinking.

~

Smaller now. They don't even cook you full portions anymore, feeding you off of their plate. They help you bathe, are careful in the motions, treating you so tenderly it threatens to make you cry. They've taken to falling asleep with you on their chest and you've taken to pushing your hand into their mouth just to see them melt and gnaw on you like you're something to be revered.

They carry you everywhere now. They have to. You're too small to keep up and you both become terrified if you're not in eye sight of each other. 18 inches, 12 inches, 8, 6, until you breathlessly say that you think it's stopping. And now they loom over you, observing you in all your 4 inch glory, a feral look of wonder and hunger in their gaze. Two giant fingers lift you under your arms and dangle you over a maw that can't wait to have you in it.

They lower you in, let you slide down their tongue until you're fully inside, laps and sucks and inhales sharply because finally everything feels right. Everything is right. The scary part is over, and now they can do what they know they was meant to do ever since you looked at them with scared eyes that day. They're meant to protect you, keep you safe during this new stage in life. You feel so wonderful in their mouth, so precious, so perfect. They were made to swallow and you were made to be swallowed.

And they do. They tilt their head back and gulps nice and deep, sending you down their throat where they know a brand new organ is waiting to catch you. It grew for you, just like you shrunk for them. Made to keep you safe and warm, deep inside where they can protect you. You both knew it all along, both accepted it immediately. And next time they'll get to play, next time they'll tease and taunt and suckle and savor until you're a panting mess. But right now they have to protect, and that's what they'll do.