moss

prologue chapter one chapter two chapter three chapter four chapter five chapter six chapter seven chapter eight chapter nine chapter ten chapter eleven chapter twelve chapter thirteen

It’s been especially warm these past few weeks, and walking barefoot on the pavement outside got me thinking back to a very G/t-coded reel I saw once, where a man saves a frantic little caterpillar from roasting on a sidewalk.

It’s funny where the ideas for these stories come from, I’m telling ya.

I reused some of the same terms for the people in this story that I used in a previous one because they fit especially well here. It may or may not become a recurring thing, we'll see 😗

SYN: At Weston Prep, Cal has spent months proving he belongs among the elite. But when a chance encounter puts his future at risk, he must decide whether belonging is worth becoming someone he doesn’t recognize.

OC content | Premature themes (14+) | Fictional discrimination | Power dynamics | Dehumanizing rhetoric | ~2,900 words

High Society

Bellametre

It was so hot the asphalt smelled like burning rubber.

Cal wrinkled his nose as he watched spittle spray from Aurelian’s mouth onto the picnic table between them, speckling the half-finished essay about the history of Parvum integration into Magnum society. If Aurelian had been standing over by the road, every word would’ve sizzled when it hit the pavement.

Because the guy would not. Stop. Talking.

Hands are comfortable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look at you…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

Verso comes to the rescue and is in for far more than he expected.

I also love scenarios where a tiny is forced to trust a giant because there’s either a threat that’s far more dangerous than the giant, or the tiny is simply more afraid of something else than they are of the giant.

The giant, who’d been hard at work trying to coax the tiny into their hands, now feels a scrambling of limbs as the tiny immediately climbs into their hands without a second thought when that threat presents itself.

The giant, who might have originally celebrated such a moment, now finds themselves trying to comfort a still terrified tiny while protecting them from any threats, perceived or otherwise.

Don't show this to Will at the current point of the fic, he'll die of a heartattack (after killing Mike)

In which your giant roommate comes home to you feeling a desperate need to be closer to him.

This is something you’ve long since grown used to. He comes back home from his shift, he wanders through the house to find you, and his fingers gently wrap around you. You’re lifted into the air and brought to his chest as he greets you, cradling you to his chest as if you’re something so infinitely precious to him.

He then whisks you away from wherever you were. You’re not even a little annoyed by this. It’s easily become the highlight of your day, and you always find yourself looking forward to hearing his booming footsteps approaching you.

Feeling secure and comfortable in his gentle hold, you nestle yourself up against his chest and sigh deeply, snuggling into the plush fabric of his light pullover sweater. You hear a soft huff of amusement as he brushes over your side with his thumb.

“What, were you lonely without me here today?” He teases warmly.

You’re not going to pretend you weren’t, you’d been feeling off throughout the day and hoped that his presence back home would help. As he keeps you tucked close, he kicks his shoes off before bracing you to his chest as he lays down on the couch. He lets your tiny weight settle on his chest under his hand, and you know he’s as comforted by your presence as you are by his.

You snuggle up as he turns on the radio to your favorite station, a small smile on your face whenever he begins softly humming along with the music. The vibrations through chest are comforting, and he brushes his thumb down the side of your head and over your shoulder slowly. You take a deep breath and release it with a sigh, curling in tighter and burying your face into his chest.

“Aw, look at you… are you glad I’m home now?”

You nod your head, a soft grimace on your face. You grab hold of a nearby fold of his sweater and pull it closer, clinging tightly to the fabric so you have something to hold onto.

“Are you okay?”

You look up at him, still holding onto the fabric as close and tightly as you can in your arms. You see concern in his eyes as he watches you carefully. You nod your head for a moment, then slowly shake it before burying your face into the fabric.

“You’re awfully snuggly today,” he comments, giving you a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I just want to be closer,” you mumble, wriggling beneath his hand to feel his palm pressing over you, hugging the fold tightly in your tiny arms.

“Easy, darling, easy. Before you wear yourself out, is it okay if I try something?”

You shoot him a confused glance, but nonetheless nod your head.

“Okay, come here… I don’t think I can hold you much closer than this,” he suggests.

You let out a surprised cry as he wraps his fingers around you. You grab hold of one of his fingers to stabilize yourself, wondering what he’s doing before he lifts his sweater and t-shirt at the bottom with his other hand. He then brings you down and sneaks his hand beneath both, setting you down on his bare chest. His hand retreats, leaving you by yourself under the weight of his shirt and sweatshirt. Thankfully, it’s a comfortable weight.

You glance around in the darkness as you try to process what’s just happened, grateful that he can’t see how red your entire face is right now. There’s no cloth barrier, just you and a vast expanse of skin beneath you. You see a stream of light coming through as he lifts his collar up to peek in at you. You look back up at him, and you see him smile playfully as he chuckles.

“What a sweet little thing you are… You look so cute right now, I can see you blushing. Absolutely adorable,” he gently teases, and you hide your face in response, feeling incredibly shy right then as he does, in fact, notice how red you are.

“Is this okay?” He then asks in a softer tone.

You meekly nod your head, looking back up and watching his smile brighten as he chuckles again.

“Alright, just making sure. You make yourself nice and cozy in there, alright?”

You nod, and then you’re shrouded by darkness again, left to take in your surroundings. It’s significantly warmer under here, you’re completely enveloped in cloth as it rests on top of you, and you can smell the body wash he used this morning. As usual, you can hear and feel his breathing and heartbeat beneath you, but something about laying directly on his bare chest makes it feel different, more personal, closer.

As you move and adjust the first few times, moving the placement of your tiny hands on his skin, you feel his chest lurch under you, followed by the sound of quiet laughter. You smirk to yourself as you realize he’s ticklish, reaching a hand further up his chest and slowly dragging it down. You feel another lurch and more laughter before a gentle, but firm pressure lands atop you, knocking you flat and stopping your movements.

“Hey,” he warns, but you can hear an amused laugh in his voice as opposed to the reactionary giggles you heard moments ago.

You laugh in response before feeling his hand lift again, giving you back freedom of movement. As the humor slowly fades into something more serene, you begin to realize that you really like this. He’s right, it’s difficult to feel much closer to him than this, enveloped in his warmth and nestled on his bare chest.

You’re much closer to him than you had ever been before, he’s got you tucked in nice and snug on his chest, and you feel the return of the weight of his hand atop you to cuddle you closer. The darkness is soothing, and he still occasionally hums along to the music on the radio. He strokes you softly and slowly, giving you the comfort you’re seeking in a new, much cozier environment. You feel as though he’s completely enveloped you, surrounding you entirely by his presence as he makes sure you know he’s right there for you. Feeling that you can finally unwind now, having the security from him that you desperately needed, you curl yourself inward as you nestle in over his heart. You take in a deep breath and release it in a sigh, letting the sensations around you lull you into a state of deep calm.

“There you go, make yourself at home. I have you all tucked away now, you’re safe with me.”

You do as he says, releasing any last lingering tension as you allow yourself to fall limp. Here, you feel so protected, like nothing can touch you, you’re completely hidden from the world outside of his sweater. You feel so small as you rest cradled on his chest, knowing that you’re probably nothing more than a tiny, easily missable lump on his chest now. You let that feeling overwhelm you as you curl in tighter. You love feeling this insignificant, especially knowing that despite this, he still has his full attention on you anyway. You may feel tiny to him, but to him, you’re everything, and there’s something about being viewed as such while being so small that causes your heart to flutter.

You know that he’s content, that he likely has his eyes closed as he leans back against his pillow. You hear the sound of him yawning, giggling quietly to yourself as you know that he’s relaxed too.

“You comfy, darling?” he asks softly, you can tell he’s fighting off a nap as he keeps you.

“Mhm,” you mumble, hearing him yawn again before you also yawn, and you feel him chuckle beneath you.

“Seems like we’re both ready for a nap, hm?”

You don’t respond outside of a few more incoherent mumbles, yawning one last time before letting yourself succumb to your new comforts.

"When I was a child and she was a child..."

Gustave comes to seek the only one able to help him.

I don't own Gravity Falls nor its characters. That honor goes to Disney and Alex Hirsch. The only characters I own are my OCs.

Ves leapt out of the way of the wild firemander’s elongated tongue. The sticky whip reeled back, preparing for a second attack. Ves grabbed her spear, painstakingly sharpened out of a stick she’d found, and danced on her feet as she waited for the perfect opportunity to strike. The firemander charged at her, and she flitted into the air. Unaware of how close she was to a nearby tree, her back rammed into the trunk. The wind was knocked out of her, and, before her wings could restart, she fell on top of the predator. Its orange scales glowed, and a scorching pain rippled through her. Even though her natural armor didn’t burn like the flesh-covered animals of her isle, she could still feel heat and be hurt by it.

Ves violently pushed herself off the beast, desperate for the agony to ease away. Before she even had a moment to catch her breath, though, the firemander’s head took up her view, an opened mouth threatening her with thousands of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. Her racing mind grasped for a way out of this and spotted the soft underbelly of the animal. Her hands instinctively prepared for a major blow when she realized how empty they were. Without a lot of options, she lifted her feet and kicked the bottom of the firemander’s head. She rolled out of harm’s way and scanned her surroundings, searching for her lost spear.

Unfortunately, there were so many tossed-away sticks in the forested area that her precisely crafted weapon blended perfectly into the crowd. A hiss from behind warned her to get going. As she zipped around, all she could find were dull ended twigs. Without much space to increase her speed, the pattering of footsteps raced closer. She felt a gooey material collide with her legs. She was dragged out of the air at the speed of lightning, but, this time, her wings were ready. Fluttering as fast as possible, they counteracted the monster’s tongue, lifting her back up ever so slightly. However, the firemander’s strength exceeded her own and began to slowly pull her back down.

As she tried to yank her legs free, a pointed end on the ground caught her attention. Ves steeled her nerves and pushed as hard as she could toward the spear. The farther she stretched, the more she strained to move. Once she was close enough, her fingers reached out and brushed against the bark. She clawed at the weapon, inching it closer. The second her hand grasped the spear, she clasped her wings shut. The speed of the firemander’s pull made her stomach drop. Ves hugged the weapon to her chest and, waiting for just the right moment, shoved it forward.

She dropped to the ground directly in front of the animal, its tongue falling limp and detaching from her feet. The brown fabric of her tunic creased as she clenched her heart. Gulping down breaths, Ves rose gradually, wiping the streaked dirt from her leggings. She tried to extract her crudely constructed weapon from the chest of the firemander, but it wouldn’t budge. Using her growing irritation as fuel, she wretched the spear, splinters of wood breaking off as she did. She fell onto her back, half the weapon in her hand and the other half still lodged in the animal. Growling, she threw aside the useless piece. To calm her nerves, she took a step back to admire her handiwork. Her first successful hunt. And for the first time in the past three days, she felt like she’d be able to make it on her own. No matter how much she didn’t want to.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Bits of firemander meat crackled on her stick as Ves held it over the small fire. Switching the roaster to one hand, she used the other one to open the flap of her satchel, which she had retrieved from its hiding place after her battle. Once she had spotted her future meal, she didn’t want anything to happen to the bag…or its cargo. She let out a relieved breath as she confirmed that the red journal was still inside. Her growling stomach told her that the cooking time was good enough. She closed the knapsack, reeled in the stick, and dug into her prize. She yelped back, fanning her tongue. Taking a minute to blow on it this time, she dared a few test nibbles, then soon began devouring again.

A strange rumbling sound was the only thing that could make her toss the rest of her meal aside. Quickly, she threw dirt over the fire and headed up into the tree branches. In her haste, though, leather bag slipped off her shoulder. The gaping hole that the strap made looped down her body and onto the grass. Ves hurriedly flew down toward it, but the growing stomps stopped her in her tracks. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself back up into the trees. She gripped the bark, eyes glued to the satchel, even as the thunderous noise ebbed ever closer. She was only able to tear her sight from it once a couple pairs of enormous boots stepped right in front of it, making such an important item seem like a speck of dust.

“Man, how much more we gonna’ need?” Stan grumbled, lugging an axe over his shoulder.

Ford knocked on several trees, placing his ear against each one as he did so. “As much as it takes to fix the boat.”

“Not really an answer, Poindexter.”

As they unknowingly circled around the knapsack, Ves silently begged the two to not step on it. They’d already gotten her kicked out of her colony. She didn’t need them messing with the last remnant of her brother she had left. As she felt the buried fire rise back up into her chest, she pushed it back as far down as she could.

It wasn’t their fault.

It wasn’t their fault.

It wasn’t—

Without warning, images of her cozy palace home flared in her mind, emphasizing the chilling wind blowing against her. She remembered the smiles of thankful townspeople as she would assist them with any little task they might need, much to the irritation of her fellow soldiers, who needed her to complete her daily duties. Memories of long talks with Rhyssa that she would never have again threatened to bring tears to her eyes.

Everything she ever knew was gone.

Because of them.

“What is this?”

The sound of Ford’s inquisitive voice forced Ves out of her self-pity. He had one knee on the ground, dangling something in his fingers that was too hard to see from her vantage point. Hiding behind her tree, she descended down to get a better look. As soon as she saw the familiar brown leather of her bag, the flicker inside her that she’d tried to keep contained burst into an inferno. She charged at Ford, not a plan in her head for the first time in her life. As soon as she was right in front of his face, a tight pressure suddenly clamped her wings shut. Her body thrust forward, pulling on her back’s appendages. Her trapped wings restricting her movements, she flung down, dangling in midair. As she hung suspended, her head thrashed in a failed effort to view what she was caught on.

“Ford, will ya put her down?”

Ves’s blood froze.

“She was the one about to attack me.” Ford whirled her around in front of his brother, the speed of his movements sending Ves’s stomach rolling.

“Not sure she can do much damage,” Stan snarked.

“Did you forget about her stingers?”

Oh, right. Duh! Ves reached up with her lower arms. She stretched as far as she could, desperate to make even the smallest pinprick into the flesh. The giant’s hand loomed just out of her radius. So, gathering all her strength, she began swinging her body back and forth. Using the momentum she’d gained, Ves flung her legs forward. She propelled up and, once she caught sight of skin, quickly slashed a tiny cut into it. Despite the size of the wound, Ford screamed in pain, instinctively releasing his hold on her. Ves attempted to flap her wings to slow her fall but quickly discovered that she’d lost all feeling in them from the tight grasp on them. She only had a couple seconds of panic to endure before a hard impact sent her into an inky abyss.

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“What did you do?!” Stan couldn’t take his eyes off the small form unconscious on the ground. Ford’s face blanched as he continually looked between the girl and his brother. “I—I—I didn’t mean to.” He looked like he was about to bend down, hand outstretched, but suddenly pulled back up. Fords fingers fiddled in front of him, as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He slowly backed away, the distance between the scientist and the tiny…thing he accidentally hurt growing more and more.

Sighing, Stan stomped over and took a knee. His joints screamed at him, punishing him for the simple action. Taking extra care, he gently scooped up the little creature, not wanting to hurt her any more than she already was. He still found it eerie how he could see the human-like features in this very non-human…what was the word she’d used. Nip? Net? Nymph, that was it! He may not have been as obsessed with the weird and unusual as his nerdy brother, but even he couldn’t help but marvel at how light the creature—no, person—was in his cupped hands.

“Careful, Stanely,” Ford urged.

“I know, I know,” Stan grumbled. He tried his best to control his lumbering footsteps as he brought her to his much more capable twin.

Ford adjusted his glasses, examining her. “Let’s see…Well, I don’t see any blood, so that’s good.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Oh really? Thanks for your professional opinion, Doc.”

“Look, Stanely, I’m trying here! I have no idea how her biology works. I don’t have any tools out here to analyze her with. She’s so small that I can’t even take her pulse, if she even has one normally!” Ford slumped on a nearby log, gripping the bridge of his nose from under his glasses.

Nice job, Knucklehead. You messed up again.

“Hey, hey take it easy, Sixer.” He rolled the small creature into one hand and placed the other one on his brother’s back as he sat next to him. “You got all that sciency-stuff on the boat, right? What if we took her back there?”

Ford rubbed his forehead. “That…” He took a deep breath. “…that could work.”

Stan grunted to his feet. “Better get movin’, then.”

Ford sighed as he followed his brother back to the boat. “She’s not going to be happy about this, is she?”

Stan couldn’t resist a smirk. “Not even a little.”

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The first thing Ves saw was a bright light. A huge, luminous bulb floated above her. Groggily blinking against the searing rays, she reached up with her right hand to block them. As processing power slowly returned to her brain, she realized that, even though she was in full control of her right one, she was unable to move her left arm. Large, pink spider legs pinched her appendage. She strained to peer beyond the glowing orb to the gigantic glass circle above her arm, a giant eye filling the interior.

Ves had never released such a high-pitched scream in her life.

Her arm was released, and the glass suddenly dropped, shattering everywhere. Her newly freed limb instinctively flung up to shield her body. Any bits of glass that hit her, though, barely dented her tough exoskeleton. She brushed herself off and, as soon as she stood up, the room began to tilt, sending her stumbling across the smooth, wooden ground. A soft material prevented her from falling on her face. When her eyes adjusted, all she could see was pink. Her head lifted, and she saw the titan’s face looming straight above her.

Ves’s years of training triggered, and her body doubled over into a backflip, landing (almost) perfectly on her feet. Her hands clenched into fists, and her stingers flared out. Her head spun around to get her bearings, and she finally noticed that she was on some kind of cliff made of wood. Everything around her was dark, so she couldn’t see much into the distance. The only light she had was the one that was previously shining in her face. Along the path was a variety of objects, most of them taller than Ves. While many of the items were foreign to her, her eyes did land on some she recognized: bits of paper, pencils, propped-up portraits, reminders stuck to long, wooden pole…

Wait…is this a desk?

Now that her eyes were adjusting to the darkness, she could make out a titan-sized chair directly behind the scientist.

Ford recoiled his hand and gripped it with his other one, particularly hiding his fingers as odd as that was. “I…I’m sorry. I…I suppose that was a bit…jarring to wake up to.”

“You think?!” her mouth spat out before her brain could catch up.

The leviathan grimaced at Ves’s outburst. Whether it was from her volume or from her words, she wasn’t sure.

“I—” Ford’s eyes widened for a split second, darting all around. “I mean, you hit your head and were knocked out. If I hadn’t brought you back here for a medical exam…”

Ves finally took a good look around her, various large, unfamiliar tools strewn around her. From her position, they seemed terrifying, especially with how many sharp edges they contained. However, if she squinted, she could almost see how they might be considered examination equipment. The idea of someone, especially a giant, studying her sent a chill down her spine. Then again, was it any different from going to see a healer back home? Plus, she really didn’t want to take any chances of upsetting her host. He happened to be a little more intimidating when he wasn’t paralyzed.

“I…I guess that’s okay, then.” She rubbed her arm, gluing her eyes downward. “Sorry, for stinging you.”

He quirked a brow. “Pardon me?”

Ves ran her hands along her waxy ponytail. “Like, before? In the woods?”

“Oh, that! Not to worry. It’s already started to heal.” He held up the hand where she had stuck him, the blister already barely visible. 

“Oh…okay…good.” As her digits lowered and brushed against her side, she suddenly realized something was supposed to be there. “Wait—wait—wait! Where’s my bag?!”

He raised his hands up and down in a placating manner. “Now, now, hold on.” He reached for something underneath the desk.

When Ves crept to the edge, she saw him rummaging through a drawer.

He unveiled her satchel, clutching the strap between his thumb and index finger. “Here.”

She forced her legs closer to the offering, a tiny voice warning her that it was a trap. She wrapped fingers around the knapsack and was relieved as Ford’s grip on it loosened. She held it tight to her heart. “Thank you.”

“Oh—uh—it was no trouble. I merely found it, is all.”

“No, I mean—” Ves studied his face, the scientist seeming to truly have no idea that just because he found it, didn’t mean he had to give it back. “Nevermind.”

“If I might ask, what makes it so important?”

She squeezed the bag tighter. “It’s mine. That’s why it’s important.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Of—of course. My apologies. I didn’t mean to pry.”

Ves sighed, guilt clawing at her throat. “Did you…not look inside it?”

Ford averted his gaze. “I…admittedly wanted to. Simply out of curiosity. However, I felt…wrong to rummage through it without your permission.” He crossed his arms, a scowl scarring his face as his gaze drifted to the side. “Stanely, on the other hand—Well, I had to hide your bag to keep him from scavenging for ‘anything valuable’ in there.”

She let his words sink in, dumbfounded that he’d respected her privacy like that. Her fingers drummed against the bag before she finally relented and slipped the journal out, letting the leather carrier fall onto the workstation.

As her arms held the book out to him, Ford leaned in, adjusting his glasses. The blacks of his eyes expanded ever so slightly. As soon as his twitching fingers began reaching out for the journal, Ves yanked it back to her side.

She hugged it to her chest. “Sorry. It’s just old…and…fragile.” She ripped off that last word as fast as she could.

Ford looked down at his hands, as if he could sense the true meaning of her words. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I…I understand.”

Ves’s heart clenched at the gi—human’s guilty expression. She didn’t want the book damaged, but…he had to have been gentle enough to not harm her while carrying her here. Her feet guided her closer to the edge, Ford’s brows drawing together with each step. She sat cross legged and placed the journal in front of her, opening it to a large map spanning both pages. She turned it around to face the researcher.

Ford continuously glanced between the notebook and the nymph. Once Ves gave a confirming nod, he began to hold out his fingers toward the journal when he abruptly stopped. Before Ves could ask about it, he started rummaging through one of the desk’s drawers again. He pulled out another of those large, glass circles and held it by a long, black handle above the book.

“What…is that?” she ventured.

“Huh?” As Ves pointed to the glass, he exclaimed, “Ah! It’s called a magnifying glass. It makes objects appear larger than they actually are.” Ford’s focus zoomed in on the pages under his glass. “Fascinating! What exactly is this a map of?”

“It’s the antipelago.” At Ford’s confused blink, Ves explained, “See, each of these islands is home to a different nymph colony. Let’s see…” She dragged her finger along the pages, directing his attention to each inky blot. “This the Ironclad colony, the Dragon Hunters colony…oh, and this one is the coolest one: The Warrrior’s Hand colony.” She sassily flipped her ponytail.

Ford playfully rolled his eyes. “Hmmm, it’s such an enigma which one that is.”

Ves chuckled. “What can I say? Gotta have pride in your home.” Home. She pulled her knees up to chin, resting her head on them with a defeated sigh.

Ford rubbed his arm, and his eyes roamed around the room. When he looked back at her, he cleared his throat. “With…uh…with how much you’ve talked about your people distrusting others of your species, I’m…surprised that you would have this with you,” he gestured to the notebook.

“It’s actually my brother’s,” Ves muttered.

He lowered onto his knees, his face still not quite level with the nymph. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear that.”

She groaned and dragged a hand down her face. She squeezed her arms around her hunched legs. “I said ‘It’s my brother’s’.”

Ford’s eyes widened. “I…I didn’t…um…” His gaze drifted to the side, refusing to look at her.

Feeling merciful, Ves relieved him of any obligation to find something to say. “He loved researching the cultures of the other colonies.”

That definitely peeked the scientist’s interest.

She couldn’t help but smile just a little bit at the curiosity plastered on his face. "I mean, he really liked learning new things in general. But this…” She picked the book back up, closing it and cradling it in her hands. “…this was his passion project. He always believed that if we could understand each other, we wouldn’t need to be so ‘paranoid’ about outsiders.”

“He went through every book in our town’s library, scraping for any piece of info he could find. Though, he always made sure I knew that those resources were completely untrustworthy. Said they were full of stereotypes of superstitions.”

Ford stroked his chin. “I suppose that makes sense. If your colony is kept isolated from the others.”

As she nodded, a knock banged on the door, making Ves’s heart leap into her throat.

“Dinner’s up!” Stan’s loud, yet muffled voice broke through.

Ford put pressure on his foot, beginning to stand, when he paused. “Would you care to join us?”

Ves had no idea how to react to that, being thrown completely off guard by the offer. “What?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I just thought perhaps you were hungry.”

Her pride urged her to protest. However, her stomach betrayed her, letting out loud growl. “Ugg, fine.”

Ves returned the notebook to its carrier. She looked around her, trying to find a place for it.

Ford observed her for a minute before it clicked. “Uh, you can just leave it on my desk if you’d like.”

She held the bag tighter, hesitant to leave it behind even for a little while.

Ford bent down again to make eye contact with her. “It will be safe. I promise.”

She relented, nodding and setting it back down on the wooden platform. She flew up to head towards the door when the world began to spin again. She dropped back down onto the workstation and clasped her head.

“Careful!” Ford exclaimed. “You hit your head rather hard, and you might feel some dizziness. If you try to fly right now, you could injure yourself.

Ves hated how much sense he was making. She crossed her arms. “Then what would you suggest?”

“Here, I’ll just—” His hand suddenly loomed over her, sending her stumbling backwards.

“Woah, woah!” She flicked out her stingers, warning him to back off.

He quickly drew his hand back. His eyes scrutinized her, as if trying to figure out why she was acting like that. The human’s gaze lowered to his withdrawn appendage and slowly flipped it so the palm was up. He gently set it on the tabletop. “Is this better?”

Ves’s antennae twitched, waiting for any sudden movement. She had to force her feet to move forward as her nerves flared up. As she stared at the fleshy platform, she gripped her ponytail, wringing it in her hands. She took a deep breath and eased herself onto the waiting hand. She fell onto her knees as Ford abruptly stood at breakneck speed. As he headed for the door, Ves desperately kept her eyes off the ground. It was one thing when she was flying and in control. Riding on a giant who could drop her at any moment was another. As she kept her focus on Ford’s hand, she noticed something odd. There was something off about his fingers, but she couldn’t tell what exactly.

Let’s see, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…6?

Was that a human thing?

The two of them left the room and turned down a short hall. The corridor opened up into an open space that was split into a lounging area, with a couple chairs and couches, and kitchen area, with a table and cabinets. In that same portion of the room, there was a large machine with spiraling circles on top and a door on the side that seemed to open downward. Stan stood in front of it, jiggling a pan over the circles. “Fryin’ up fish. Doodly Doo. Obvious food for a boat. Doodly Doo.”

Ford set the nymph onto a circular table in the corner. Two human-sized chairs sat on both sides of her perch, the backs towering over her.

“Hey, Firecracker’s up,” Stan greeted the two of them.

Ves gave a weak wave, feeling like she was on display.

“How you feelin’?” He turned back to his pan as he asked.

She shrugged. “A little dizzy, but other than that, fine.”

“Good!” Stan spoke over his shoulder. “Then, Poindexter can stop worrying.”

“Well, pardon me for being concerned, but she suffered a significant fall,” Ford argued with his twin.

Ves’s blood boiled from being talked about like she wasn’t even in the room. “Hate to break it to you both, but I’m tougher than I look,” she tapped on her exoskeleton to accentuate her point.”

Stan fiddled with something on the tall, metal box he was in front of, and grabbed a couple of platters from the cabinets. “Hey, you don’t gotta’ tell me. I’ve seen ya when you’re mad. I know you can take care of yourself.” He joined them over at the table, dishes and pan in hand.

“Oh, umm…thanks?”

“Yup” Stan divided the contents of the pan between the saucers. “Welp, here’s some sea meat.” The two huge plates clattered onto the table. The two humans took a seat, Ford behind her and Stan in front of her. As Stan used a knife to cut his meal, Ves took the opportunity to catch a glimpse of Stan’s fingers.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5.

Okay, so not a human thing.

A third clink reached her ears. She looked in front of her and saw another of their plates. A piece of fish bigger than her head sat on the humungous dinnerware. When she peered over at Stan’s plate, a small hole in his food. His eyes downcast, he continued cutting up his fish.

Ves walked across the dish to retrieve the chunk. Sitting down on the smooth, white circle, she ripped an even smaller piece off with her bare hands. She tried to ignore the muffled gag she heard from behind. When he no longer had utensils his size, then he could complain.

“Surprised you’re still here,” Stan’s raspy voice spoke up. “You were ready to kill Ford just few hours ago.”

Ves finished chewing her bite and began picking at her armored plating. “Yeah, well…don’t feel good enough to fly, so…”

Ford tapped his fork against his plate. “After we eat, I could take you any place you wish.”

Stan quirked a brow. “Ooooor, she could just stay here,” he suggested.

“I’m not certain she’s comfortable with that,” Ford said through his teeth.

Stan gave him a deadpan look. “Then why don’t ya ask her?”

Ves lazily flopped her head over her shoulder to face the scientist, irritated with the fact that he was talking like she wasn’t even there. “He’s got a point. I am right here.”

Ford sighed, rubbing his forehead. He lifted his hand just enough to see her. “Well?”

The nymph took a minute to think. She knew that they weren’t going to hurt her. They had more than enough opportunities to do so: when she set them free, when she was unconscious, even that very moment. And the only thing more vulnerable than a lone nymph was a flightless nymph. “Alright, but just for the night.” As she glanced up at the towering figures, one staring at her with creepily curious eyes and the other flipping his knife as if it was a toy, she hoped she didn't regret her decision.

Previous

I’m back with more stranger things g/t !!

Btw thanks anon for the inspo 🫶🫶

Tales of two borrower sisters dropped into the show Boy Meets World!

The Amy Problem

wordcount: 6181

In all of Eric’s life, he’d never met a girl more difficult to read than Lucy.

Usually, most people were relatively easy to understand, and Eric never had trouble figuring out what someone wanted, whether they were nervous, angry, happy, flirty, or bored. Even if their face didn’t say it, usually their body language did.

But Lucy…

She was different.

Obviously, she wasn’t human. She was a Borrower. She most likely didn’t grow up learning the same social customs Eric did, like how you’re supposed to smile when you greet people, or that it’s rude to stare, and it made sense that she wouldn’t know that.

She probably didn’t go to school or interact with many people her own age or anyone at all. She carried herself like there was danger everywhere, always alert, always ready to fight or run for the walls. And maybe there was danger everywhere, especially at her size, but the burden of that paranoia clung to her always.

And then there were her eyes.

Deep brown, same as the coffee beans his dad ground up every morning but nowhere near as comforting. It wasn’t often that Lucy made eye contact with Eric on purpose, if anything, she avoided his eyes most of the time, like looking at him would somehow expose herself. But there were some moments, rare ones, where he’d make eye contact and she wouldn’t look away. Eric didn’t know if she realized it or not. At times it felt deliberate, the slightest furrow of her brows like she was examining him, measuring his trustworthiness he supposed. And then, other times, it felt different – less guarded, more observational with the same intensity of an FBI agent interrogating a criminal.

Every time it made him feel so aware of himself, of his hands, his body, his demeanor. Like something was wrong but he had no idea what, or like she was waiting for something to be wrong, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Whatever she saw in him, it didn’t keep her away.

Lucy had appeared at least three times since him and Cory had given her the felt. Each time looking healthier than the last, so it was safe to assume their home wasn’t a freezer anymore.

She came with the same guarded and flighty attitude, with eyes that shifted constantly, deep and unreadable.

The things she asked for at first seemed practical, double A batteries, one or two strings of yarn, but then they got a little less practical sounding. Buttons, pink ones, exactly three of them.

“Why three though?” Eric asked as Cory left the room to retrieve the buttons, “why so specific?”

One of Lucy’s eyebrows twitched at the question.

She turned her head to look at him properly, eyes searing into his. Her arms were crossed, foot tapping impatiently like she’d rather be anywhere else than in his presence. Maybe Eric should value his life more, but for some reason, he kept pushing.

“Are you making something with them?” He pried, head tilting curiously at her.

Lucy jerked her head away suddenly, like his gaze had burned her.

“Why all the questions?” she said stiffly.

Eric shrugged, “I just want to know. Am I not allowed to know anything about you?”

“If it were up to me, you wouldn’t.”

She still refused to look at him.

Eric’s eyes softened, she was so on edge, so guarded at all times, he wished he could somehow make her relax. But he had no idea how to convince her that he wasn’t out to hurt her. How could he convince her to trust him when he’s the very thing she was raised to fear?

“Hey,” Eric said, softer this time, “listen, I’m not trying to be weird. I’m just curious.”

For a moment, she didn’t move.

But slowly, her head turned back, eyes searing into his soul, measuring – they always were.

Then the bedroom door opened again. Cory had returned, holding up the prize. Three small pink buttons.

He closed the door quietly behind him with a triumphant, almost giddy smile. Eric had to bite back a laugh. Cory looked as if he’d pulled off the heist of the century.

“I got them,” he said gleefully.

Eric watched him strut forwards and set the buttons down on the desk in front of Lucy. She didn’t move for a minute, her eyes flickering between them with hesitation.

They won’t explode, Eric wanted to say, but he kept his thoughts to himself this time.

Lucy reached out, her miniscule hands snatching up the buttons and tucking them underneath her arms. She turned around, about to just leave without a word like she always tried to do.

“Not even a thank you?” Eric asked, a hint of a smile on his face.

Lucy froze, glaring at him out of the corner of her eye. For a second, Eric thought she might ignore him, but then he heard it.

“Thank you.”

Barely more than a mutter out of her mouth, but his ears caught just enough for his face to break into a full smile.

Lucy, seeming to think she’d said something forbidden, raced back into the small opening in the walls without saying anything more.

Eric glanced at Cory, triumph flooding through his veins. His little brother seemed deeply impressed.

“Wow, that’s an improvement,” he said, nodding his head slowly.

Eric laid back slightly, his arms behind his head.

“I know,” he replied in an admittedly arrogant tone, “she’s definitely warming up.”

Cory shrugged skeptically in response, but Eric didn’t think he was shooting too far at all.

Progress was progress, no matter how little.

“One step at a time, Cor,” Eric advised. He should totally teach a class on this topic. How to get a Borrower to trust you 101. Taught by Mr. Eric Matthews – an expert on human/Borrower relations…

Eric’s eyes remained on the spot Lucy had disappeared from, not on purpose, just drifting. But his attention snagged on the cup of pens and pencils on Cory’s desk. He could’ve sworn he saw movement.

A smirk tugged at Eric’s lips, of course she’d be hiding still. He leaned to the side to get a better look – then froze.

Because blinking back at him were a pair of curious brown eyes, wide and almost doe-like, peeking around the rim of the cup at him.

It wasn’t Lucy.

That he knew immediately.

They stared at each other for barely a second. Then a tiny gasp, those eyes widening in shock, blonde hair whipping out of sight before he heard the tiniest pitter patter of footsteps, and then finally, silence.

Eric didn’t move, his head filled with questions, trying to process what he’d just seen.

His head turned slowly to look at Cory.

“Dude… you saw that, right?” he muttered.

Cory looked frozen too, staring at the same spot and nodding slowly.

“So, either Lucy dyed her hair blonde in the span of two minutes, or…”

“There’s another one,” Cory finished.

They both sat in silence, still staring at the cup like it might bring them answers.

“What have we gotten ourselves into?” Eric asked.

“Who knows…” Cory answered.

-

Amy’s heart beat frantically in her chest. Her back was firmly pressed against the wall, as though she could stick to it permanently if she tried hard enough, her breathing showing no sign of calming down.

Now she’d done it.

Now she’d really done it.

A peek.

That’s all Amy had wanted.

A peek at the Matthews boys to satisfy her curiosity, and that would be the end of it.

But Amy never received proper Borrower training, she wasn’t very good at stealth, or at climbing, or running, or any sort of activity that being a proper Borrower required. Her body just couldn’t keep up with most of it.

And now she was paying for her defects in full.

She cursed her curiosity to the moon and back.

She just wanted to know what they looked like. Did they seem kind? Were their voices gentle? Were they sincere?

The Matthews boys had been such enigmatic figures to her, the only things she knew about them were what Lucy chose to tell her. And even based on Lucy’s very negative perceptions and descriptions, the Matthews boys seemed lovely.

Not like the huge, towering humans Lucy and Amy were told horrible stories of, not the nameless figures they borrowed from and feared. They sounded like beings capable of real kindness, ones that wanted to help them, even if they didn’t know Amy existed.

They sure knew about Amy now.

How on earth was she going to tell Lucy?

The image entered her thoughts before she could stop it. Lucy standing before her, an expression of shock and anger on her face, disappointment shining through underneath it all. The cherry on top to weigh down the entire cake.

Because she knew it was true. Amy couldn’t feel more like a disappointment. All she had to do was sit her butt down and stay home.

But that was all she ever did.

She tried her best to help out in any way she could. She made blankets, she darned clothes, she cleaned, but it never felt like enough. She could never do what Lucy did. She couldn’t go out and borrow food and supplies, her body wouldn’t even let her run more than five minutes without feeling faint, and that left Amy as one thing.

A burden.

Lucy never said it, but Amy knew it. She saw the weight of responsibility that lived on Lucy’s shoulders, and most of it was because of her. Amy saw it every single time she fell ill, every time she couldn’t finish a task because her head hurt, every time she got dizzy spells, every time her skin flared red for the millionth time.

Amy saw it, guilt burning in her gut each time.

Lucy refused to hear a single apology, refused to blame Amy for anything. But that didn’t make it go away.

The guilt stayed put.

When Amy arrived back home, Lucy was already there, her eyes zeroing in on her as soon as she entered the room.

The felt they’d installed as insulation worked very well ever since their time of crisis. So now their home was a reasonable temperature compared to the outside.

And it was all thanks to the Matthews boys.

The moment one of them saw her suddenly replayed in Amy’s mind. He was blonde, older than the other. It must’ve been Eric Matthews, the one Lucy so vehemently disliked.

“Amy?” Lucy said. She walked briskly over, concern bleeding into her features, “Where’ve you been?”

Amy opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“Your skin is all red,” Lucy observed, laying her hand against Amy’s forehead, “did you go outside again?”

Amy, not knowing what to say or how to explain what had just happened, nodded.

Lucy sighed in exasperation.

“Amy, you know that’s dangerous. It’s freezing outside, why would you want to be frolicking around out there?”

Amy’s head drooped. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for her to go outside sometimes, just to feel the air, the sun on her skin, even if it ended up itchy and inflamed again.

“It’s not that cold,” Amy muttered, “the weatherman said it was 50 degrees today.”

“It’s cold enough. I don’t care what the weatherman said, I don’t want you going outside unless it’s at least 65, ok?” Lucy lectured.

 Amy blinked for a moment. Here was her chance to say it, to explain that she hadn’t gone outside at all, that she’d done something far worse.

Lucy looked at her expectantly, and Amy couldn’t do it.

“Sorry for worrying you…” She said finally.

Lucy sighed again, her mouth turned up, a hint of a smile.

“It’s ok,” she said, her tone more affectionate than worried, “now go get some rest.”

Amy smiled weakly back, it was all she could muster. The burning pit of shame in her stomach grew stronger and stronger as she walked past her sister towards their bedroom.

She just couldn’t bear it.

The disappointment in Lucy’s expression would be sharp enough to stab her through.

She just wasn’t ready.

And who knows if she ever could be.

But she had to tell Lucy somehow.

What kind of mess had she gotten herself into?

-

One minute, Cory was peacefully doing his homework. Not sleeping. Then the next, Lucy was there.

“Lucy?” Cory said, blinking sleepily at her, “what are you doing here?”

“I’m not here to talk,” Lucy said shortly, stepping over various objects on Cory’s desk, her eyes already searching, “I’m just here for a paperclip.”

Cory watched her for a moment, barely computing her words.

“Do you…need me to get one for you?” he asked slowly.

Lucy didn’t look at him.

“No, I can find it myself.”

Cory blinked. Her nose wrinkled a little bit as she surveyed his desk.

“What?” Cory questioned. His face warming at the mess.

“It’s good that you don’t clean much,” Lucy answered, “but it wouldn’t kill you to.”

Dissing him yet again. It was beginning to become common with her.

“First of all, rude,” Cory said, “Second, why is that good?”

Lucy slowly turned her head to look up at him.

“More to pick through…” she answered as though he’d asked the world’s dumbest question.

“Oh.”

Lucy sighed, bending over and grabbing a stray paperclip Cory had no clue was there in the first place. He couldn’t help but wonder if he should bring it up at all. What if she got angry and defensive and never showed herself again? But at the same time, Cory’s curiosity was insatiable. He wanted to know who the other Borrower was, the one him and Eric caught peeking at them, not like they were monsters, but like they were fascinating.

“You’re leaving?” Cory asked as Lucy headed back across his desk towards the opening in the wall.

She stopped in her tracks, her hand clenching around the paperclip. Her head turned again, eyes burrowing into his.

“Is there a problem?” she asked.

Despite the underlying fear of being eviscerated, Cory asked anyway.

“Why don’t you stay for a while? Just – hang out?”

If she stayed, maybe he might be able to ask about the other Borrower, to bring up the incident subtly in a way that wouldn’t overwhelm her immediately. Cory could guess she didn’t know what had happened. If she did, he likely wouldn’t be seeing her at all.

Lucy’s brows furrowed.

“What does that mean?”

Now Cory was confused.

“What does what mean?”

“Hang out. What is that?”

Cory searched her expression, but it was a futile task. Lucy could certainly be sarcastic, but Cory had never heard her tell a single joke in the time he knew her.

“Y-you’re serious?” Cory stammered.

He saw the subtle flush on Lucy’s face, her eyes flashing dangerously at him.

“Yes, I’m serious,” she snapped.

Before Cory could make sure he heard her right, the bedroom door opened, and Eric waltzed in.

“Hey, Cor,” He greeted. His eyes landed on Lucy right away and he stalled briefly, like the sight of her had slowed his brain down, “and – heyy Lucy. Nice to see you today…”

Cory turned his head.

“Eric, Lucy doesn’t know what a hang-out is,” he blurted.

Eric paused halfway into the room, glancing between the two of them.

“What?”

“Help me.”

 “Uhh…well,” Eric began, eyebrows raised, eyes now resting on Lucy, “you really don’t know?”

Lucy scoffed, her arms crossing indignantly.

“Why is this a big deal? What does it mean?”

The flush in her cheeks was still there, and Cory could tell she was embarrassed from the way she fiddled with her own fingers, understandably so. But Eric didn’t look shocked, he didn’t rub it in either.

“A hang-out is when you spend time with other people, basically,” he explained, putting his backpack down and sitting on his own bed.

Lucy still looked confused.

“Doing what?” she asked.

“Anything,” Eric answered, shrugging his shoulders.

“Anything?”

“Yes. Anything.”

Lucy looked away from him briefly, like she was processing this information still. Cory was still processing too. Something ached in his chest at the genuine confusion on her face, like she was exposed to a brand new culture for the first time. What had her life been like so far that made this concept so mind-blowing to her?

“You can invite as many people as you want too,” Eric continued, “I don’t know how many friends you’ve got around here…”

Cory saw it. Lucy’s body locked up like he’d said something poisonous before she quickly collected herself.

He’d hit a nerve.

Eric must’ve seen it too. He leaned in slightly, his head tilting, a more careful edge in his demeanor.

“Or not,” he said, tone softening, “you don’t have to invite anyone if you don’t want to.”

Lucy didn’t say anything, but Cory caught the way she held still, the way her grip tightened on the paperclip she held.

Eric’s eyes sharpened just a hint, intrigued now.

“But if you had someone, a friend, or family that you’d want to invite, you could,” Eric went on a little more casually, testing the waters some more.

Lucy didn’t move.

Cory didn’t even think she was breathing.

She seemed caught in place by something invisible, like a glue trap.

Her dark eyes were wider now.

A pause.

Eric hesitated for barely a second, like he knew he might be stepping on a sensitive spot.

But he did so anyway.

“Lucy,” he said gently, “you don’t live by yourself, do you?”

Lucy said nothing. Her mouth opened and closed again like she short-circuited in real time.

But then she spoke again.

“I do,” she said, her voice carrying half its normal firmness.

“Lucy,” Cory said gently, her head snapped towards him, “we saw someone else.”

Her eyes widened again.

“I-It was me,” she countered quickly, “I doubled back to grab something and – “

“She was blonde,” Eric interrupted, his tone certain.

Lucy went silent at this.

She didn’t seem to have any rebuttal or explanation.

It reminded Cory of a deer in headlights. Not exactly afraid, but completely out of options, no moves left to make.

Eric took the liberty to explain.

“Look,” he said, “It was after you had asked for those three buttons. The pink ones, remember?”

Lucy nodded, her expression hollow.

“Well, soon after you left, we saw someone peeking at us from behind that cup,” Eric continued, pointing at the cup of pencils on Cory’s desk.

Lucy followed his gaze, a gleam of recognition and resignation behind her eyes as Eric spoke.

“I’m pretty sure it was a girl. Blonde hair, brown eyes, she ran when we saw her.”

Cory nodded along with the story, watching Lucy very closely.

She still wasn’t saying anything.

A long pause stretched between them all when Eric finished.

Cory wondered if she would ever speak again.

Eric was watching her too, with a surprising amount of attentiveness Cory didn’t expect.

“It was Amy…” Lucy murmured, so quietly, Cory had to lean in closer to hear her at all.

“Who?” Eric asked softly.

“Amy. My younger sister.”

Eric nodded slowly.

“Oohh,” he uttered, in the softest tone, Cory had ever heard from his brother.

Lucy glanced between them briefly, assessing their reactions.

“Your sister?” Cory repeated.

Lucy nodded.

“Amy’s not like me…” she began carefully, “she’s more curious, more trusting... I was stupid not to expect this from her.”

“Expect what?” Eric asked.

Lucy glanced at him again before answering.

“For her to be curious about you guys…to want to meet you…”

“Well, can we meet her?” Cory asked tentatively, “I mean, she’s curious about us – we’re curious about her.”

There was a long stretch of silence.

Lucy seemed deep inside her head, her expression unreadable.

Cory exchanged an uncertain glance with Eric, hoping he hadn’t gone a step too far in asking. But he couldn’t help it, he wanted to meet Lucy’s sister. His head was already racing with speculations, someone curious and trusting. That didn’t sound like Lucy at all. He was intrigued.

“You obviously don’t have to if you or Amy don’t want to,” Eric added gently.

Lucy shook her head.

“No, I know she wants to. She has for a while now,” she said, lowering her voice to a mutter, “and that’s the problem…”

She looked away distantly.

“So, what does that mean?” Cory pressed uncertainly.

Lucy inhaled sharply as though she wanted to snap at him, but her mouth remained closed.

Eric shot him a pointed look.

“It’s not a no,” Lucy answered, crossing her arms.

“It’s a yes then?” Cory asked, a tiny smile forming on his face.

Lucy shot him a glare, her eyes sharper than razorblades.

“Again, with the questions?” she shot back.

Cory raised his hands in surrender.

Lucy sighed in resignation.

“Both of you listen to me,” she ordered, glancing between them menacingly, “there is nothing I wouldn’t do for my little sister, ok?”

Cory and Eric nodded obediently.

“If either of you do anything to make her uncomfortable, if either of you put a finger out of line, I won’t hesitate. I mean it.”

“Understood,” Eric said.

“Got it,” Cory said.

Lucy watched them like a hawk, looking for any signs of faltering. Then, she backed up towards the walls.

“I’ll be back. Don’t move,” she instructed.

She turned around, hurrying into the walls and leaving Cory and Eric with a strange sense of anticipation buzzing in the air.

-

When Lucy arrived home, she was surprised to see Amy already in the main room.

She was sitting on one of their thimble stools, her hands clasped together in her lap like she was nervous for one reason or another.

“Amy?” Lucy said, watching as her sister’s head snapped up.

“I have something to tell you,” Amy said quickly, standing to her feet.

It was quite obvious to Lucy what she wanted to say.

“I have something to tell you too.”

Amy took in a deep breath, seemingly gathering her courage before she spoke again.

“I was seen the other day.”

Lucy nodded once, unsurprised.

“I know.”

Amy’s eyes bugged out of her head, just staring for a second.

“You know?” she asked.

“They told me,” Lucy explained.

Realization shone in her expression, and Amy hung her head in shame.

“I’m so sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean for anything to happen. I just – I wanted to put their names to their faces for once…”

Lucy stepped closer, hands resting on Amy’s shoulders and rubbing supportive circles.

“Don’t worry about it, I knew it was probably going to happen sooner or later,” she said in a comforting tone, “besides, they want to do the same thing.”

Amy looked up, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“They want to meet you too.”

Amy froze under Lucy’s touch.

“T-They do?”

A hint of a smile spread on Lucy’s face.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure? I mean – you’re letting this happen and everything?” Amy stammered.

Lucy sighed. She shouldn’t be angry with Amy at all, she’s always been curious and sociable, that’s how it’s been their whole lives. Letting this happen avoided further danger, because what if Lucy didn’t agree before? What if she held firm in not letting Amy meet them? It would still happen whether Lucy wanted it to or not, letting it happen made things cleaner, less secrets, less mess.

“I kind of have to now,” Lucy said, jaw clenching before she straightened herself out, “the damage is already done. They know you exist, and unfortunately, they’re just as curious as you…”

That got Amy to lighten up a little bit. She smiled shyly.

“Ok. I’ll meet them.”

“We should go now,” Lucy said, “They’re waiting on us.”

She pulled Amy’s arm towards the door.

“Wait! Now? I’m not ready!” Amy protested.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll be right there with you the whole time,” Lucy responded, her hand still closed on Amy’s forearm.

Amy gave in and let Lucy guide her through the walls, back towards the Matthews’ boys. Throwing her thoughts away from everything that could go wrong, Lucy tried to think of good things, like Amy’s laughter, how much she would enjoy meeting new people, watching the smile form on her face.

But she was interrupted.

“So, is this you saying they’re safe now?” Amy asked curiously.

Lucy knew she was referring to the human boys waiting for them, and she didn’t quite know how to answer the question.

“They’re useful,” she answered, “meeting you will get them off my back for now…”

Amy giggled beside her.

“Whatever you say.”

-

Eric had no idea what to expect.

When he was first acquainted with the knowledge of Lucy – the unreadable, sharp-eyed, stand-offish miniature girl that she was – having a sister, his imagination ran in a million different directions. He knew she was blonde and had brown eyes, but that in no way told the full story of who she could be.

Maybe she was just like Lucy, all walls and no doors, or maybe she was different.

Actually, Eric already had that piece of the puzzle.

Lucy’s sister was different. He saw it in her eyes.

They weren’t like Lucy’s. They weren’t dark and vague, they were warm and curious. They’d widened into saucers when caught, and that was the last Eric was able to see before they were gone.

And judging by Lucy’s reaction to them even insinuating her sister existed, Eric could guess that they were close. Or at least, close enough for Lucy to act like a mother goose protecting her nest.

Eric had a piece of the puzzle, and maybe – just maybe, he’d complete more of the picture.

He sat completely still, staring at the spot Lucy had been minutes before.

Cory was just as frozen, eyes fixed on the same place.

And then, the wall opened up.

Lucy crawled out of the little hole in the wall, now familiar head of dark curls leading the way. She turned around as soon as she was on her feet, holding the hand of someone else.

Her sister.

Eric watched, holding his breath as Lucy’s sister glanced between them all, her cheeks flushed pink.

Her hair was longer than Eric had originally thought, blonde, wavy, like it wasn’t used to being pulled back at all. Her eyes were the same as he’d seen behind the cup, warm brown, curious, completely unguarded.

She looked up at him and Cory, smiling shyly, and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Lucy looked stiff – anxious, but controlled, like she desperately wanted to hover but forced her arms to her sides. Her eyes shot them both dark looks.

Don’t mess this up, they said, or else…

Before Eric could even get a word out, Amy spoke first.

“Hi,” She said, waving at them as though she was the new kid at school, introducing herself in front of a classroom, “I’m Amy.”

Eric glanced sideways at Cory, whose mouth was parted as though an angel was speaking to him.

“Hey, Amy. Um – I’m Eric and this is Cory,” Eric said, softening his tone.

He elbowed Cory in the side, jolting him into speaking again.

“I-I’m Cory,” he stammered.

Amy smiled fully this time, seemingly amused.

“I know,” She said, and Eric was struck by the softness of her voice, having gotten used to Lucy’s dry and sometimes sharp tone, “I’ve heard so much about you both.”

Cory smiled back endearingly, and Eric considered asking if he’d been hypnotized, but he figured he’d make fun of him later. There were more interesting things to observe at the moment.

 He noticed how Lucy remained barely a step behind her, just watching – assessing.

Amy suddenly sighed, her smile faltering, demeanor turning a little nervous.

“I’m sorry,” She said, stepping forward slightly, “for, um…before. I didn’t mean to spy.”

“It’s ok,” Eric responded automatically.

“Yeah,” Cory added.

Amy’s lips turned up a little, encouraged. She went on.

“It’s just that – well…you guys have been so kind to us, so helpful this past month, you have no idea. I just wanted to see who you were with my own eyes.”

Her voice was soft still, no hesitation, no skirting the edges of the truth, just complete sincerity.

Eric’s eyes couldn’t help but flick towards Lucy.

Her arms were crossed now, watching Amy carefully, like she was ready to spring into action the second something happened. That wasn’t just loyalty, that was something else – something fierce.

Eric wondered how much of Lucy’s actions were motivated by Amy. How much she hid from them, what she asked them for, everything she didn’t say. How much of it was all for Amy?

“Thank you both so much for everything,” Amy said, eyes shining with such gratefulness that it caught Eric off guard.

“I-It’s no problem,” Cory said, looking dumbfounded.

“Yeah, it was nothing,” Eric added, because it really wasn’t any trouble for them, getting Lucy the things she asked for. All he had to do was open a cabinet and take them, but he supposed it would be a lot more trouble for someone Borrower-sized. His and Cory’s contributions were more important than he originally thought.

“Alright,” Lucy said, pushing off the wall, “that’s enough.”

She reached out and grabbed Amy’s hand.

Amy didn’t protest, following Lucy as she was led back towards the wall.

“Bye!” Amy called over her shoulder, waving at them as though they were her new best friends.

“Come back and hang out any time,” Cory said, waving back with a big smile.

Amy’s eyebrows pinched together slightly.

“Hang out? What’s that?” she asked curiously.

“Don’t worry, Lucy can tell you,” Eric said, a cheeky smile on his face as he waved.

Lucy shot him a glare as the sisters climbed back into the walls, and Eric’s smile only grew.

As soon as they were gone, Cory turned to him.

“Do you think she actually will?” he asked eagerly, “come back to hang out?”

Eric clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Only if Lucy doesn’t lock her up first.”

Cory’s smile faltered.

“She wouldn’t do that…right?”

Eric was pretty sure she would.

“Look, she’d have to have a radical change of heart. I mean, did you see her face just now?”

Cory shook his head.

“She looked like she’d kill us if we moved an inch in any direction,” Eric continued.

“But she always looks like that,” Cory shrugged.

“Yeah, but even more this time. She doesn’t play around when it comes to Amy, I can tell.”

Cory deflated in disappointment.

“Well, what do we do?”

Eric thought for a moment.

“Hope? Pray?” he suggested.

Cory clapped his hands suddenly.

“I got it!” He exclaimed, “we could get those peanut butter sandwich cookies, rub two of ‘em together, lure them both out, and then…”

Eric leaned in.

“And then…what?”

“And then, we snatch up Amy so she has to hang-out with us!”

Eric stared for a good minute.

“You know, that’s crazy enough that it just might work,” he said.

“Really?”

“No.”

Cory deflated again.

Eric sighed.

“Look, Cor, I think we’re just gonna have to give it time…”

Cory shrugged.

“I guess…”

“Hey, I’m sure they’ll come around,” Eric said, his tone a little more encouraging, “there might be a day where Lucy doesn’t glare at us…in 40 years.”

-

Lucy was quiet the entire way home.

Her mind raced with what this meeting now meant for her and Amy.

Had she gotten the humans off her back or ensured they never left?

What did they expect now? Visitations?

Or that word they kept using, hang-out?

Being in the boys’ presence for no other reason but to be there.

The concept was simply bizarre.

But unfortunately, Amy seemed all for it, excited even – after Lucy had informed her of the meaning.

“Do you think I could go up again tomorrow?” Amy asked eagerly when they arrived home.

Lucy’s head whipped toward Amy as she put her tools down.

“What?”

“You know…to hang out with them?”

Lucy blinked.

“No.”

Amy’s smile faltered a little, but she pressed on.

“Why not? They want me to, I’m sure it would be ok if I – “

“No.”

Lucy’s voice was firmer. Her jaw ticked uncontrollably.

Amy was quiet for a moment.

“Are you…angry with me still?” She asked tentatively.

“I was never angry at you,” Lucy countered.

Amy didn’t look convinced. She stepped closer to Lucy.

“Lucy…” She said softly, “please be honest with me. Are you still angry?”

Lucy sighed heavily, hanging her head in defeat.

She shouldn’t be angry at Amy, ever. It was wrong. Amy didn’t mean any harm, never.

But the slight sting of betrayal hurt, nonetheless.

“Why did you go behind my back?” Lucy asked, her tone sounding much more vulnerable than before, “why did I have to find out you were seen from the humans?”

Amy’s eyes shone with tears now, and Lucy’s chest tightened so much she had trouble breathing correctly.

“I’m sorry,” Amy whispered, “I thought if I asked you, you would just say no.”

She was probably right.

But now they were in an even deeper hole. The humans clearly wanted to form some kind of friendship with them, an idea that spelled all kinds of danger according to Lucy’s instincts.

It was bad enough to be seen by them, even worse to be caught, and even worse to be accepting help from them, relying on them, befriending them. If their father was still around, or literally any other Borrower who didn’t blatantly disregard the code, they would be absolutely scandalized.

They’d crossed lines they were raised never to even look at.

Lucy and Amy would be marked as traitors forever.

They already were.

Amy grasped Lucy’s hands, her gaze turned pleading.

“I didn’t tell you at first because…well – because I thought you’d be disappointed in me.”

Lucy didn’t reply.

“I’m so so sorry, Lucy…” Amy said, tears dripping down her pink cheeks.

Lucy’s body reacted immediately, pulling Amy into a tight hug, rubbing up and down her back in a soothing motion, any residual anger she had evaporating in a second.

“You couldn’t disappoint me, even if you tried…” Lucy muttered.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, Lucy softly soothing her sister who, after a while, pulled away, wiping her tears.

“I love you,” Amy murmured.

“Love you too,” Lucy replied.

Amy smiled weakly, going and sitting down wearily on one of the stools.

Lucy sat down on another stool across from Amy.

“I’m just trying to keep you safe, Amy,” she said.

“I know,” Amy responded, sniffling, “trust me, I do.”

“Then you understand why befriending humans isn’t a great idea?”

Amy nodded.

“Yeah, for most cases. But don’t you see? Our case is different.”

Lucy’s brows furrowed, “what do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve both seen them, talked to them, and accepted help from them. Obviously, you don’t think they’re that dangerous anymore.”

Lucy opened her mouth, ready to disagree, but Amy kept going.

“I’m just saying…they seem like such nice boys, we’ve already gone off the deep end with Borrower Code, I don’t see the harm anymore.”

Lucy could see the harm crystal clear, but she didn’t say anything.

“And aside from all that,” Amy said, her tone softening to an almost melancholy degree, “it gets really lonely around here…”

Lucy’s mind went silent at that, her worst-case scenarios quieted, a painful sensation of familiarity settling in her chest.

Their lives really were lonely.

All they had was each other.

“Doesn’t it kill you too?” Amy whispered.

Lucy nodded silently, her fingernails digging into her palms.

It did kill her sometimes, the ache. Sometimes it was about their parents, missing them, missing their guidance. But sometimes, the ache told her other things. It longed for connection, more connection.

“So, why don’t we do something about it?” Amy finished.

Lucy remained silent for a minute, thinking, turning it over in her head.

She couldn’t lie, watching Amy light up while conversing with the Matthews boys was like a balm for her soul, even if she was worried about things going wrong the entire time.

Even though everything about this screamed danger, went against everything she was taught, and everything she believed, the idea wasn’t sounding so bad anymore.

“If we do this…” Lucy began slowly, “under no circumstances can you go up there without me.”

Amy nodded feverishly, her eyes widening in shock.

“You have to promise me you’ll be very careful,” Lucy continued, “Trust me, if anything goes wrong, we’ll be out of here and those boys will never see us again, ok?”

“Yes!” Amy exclaimed, “I promise!”

“Ok.”

Amy squealed, jumping off her stool to wrap Lucy in an enthusiastic hug.

Lucy hugged her back, hoping to everything above that she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life.

As promised: fairy wing spasm here we go. My poor baby, at least she's got a hottie who's desperate to take care of her!! I GENUINELY enjoyed writing this one so much, I just got to throw in all the delish tropes that I love.

WC: ~2600 Other stories from the Invisible Strings universe: Birthday Blues/Closed Off

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Mack jolted when he heard the thud on the floor across the room.

Blood curdling.

There was no other way to describe the cry that followed.

Mack’s fairy was the most reserved person he knew. He didn’t know her, really. After three weeks she still hadn’t revealed herself to him, after all.

His friends assured him that this was typical for some fairies, that she would come around. The only evidence of her presence was the accidental flutter of her wings against the back of his hand or neck. At least, he assumed it was accidental. She didn’t seem like the type to deliberately make contact with him.

It was unsettling, knowing that she actively avoided him. She’d slap at his fingers if he ever got too close. He swore she hissed at him once, but he wasn’t sure if he was just hearing things.

All the fairies he knew, like the ones bonded to his friends, were the brightest, most tender of souls. Her lack of desire to interact with him at all was jarring at first, and frankly, disheartening. Mack had always wished he’d be bonded when he came of age, and now that he was, he somehow felt lonelier than he ever did before.

“MACK!”

That call was somehow more chilling than her scream.

She rarely spoke to him. They’d exchanged a rough total of ten words or so up until now, with a minute-long conversation where they traded names with each other.

“Giselle?” He’s immediately on his feet, scrambling off the bed, his pen and notebook tossed off to the side.

Right there, on the ground in front of his bed, she was uncloaked.

It took him a second to find her, considering he didn’t know who to expect. The fairy was curled up in fetal position, shaking like a leaf.

Part of the Invisible Strings universe! Contains brief fearplay (fairy shut in a drawer!), but overall pretty soft.

Kieran and the fairy he’s been bound to for two years, Katalina, sort through some pent up feelings he’s been avoiding.

wc: ~2,800

(I had Beaches by beabadoobee on loop while writing this btw, to give you a taste of the headspace)

—————

Katalina was livid. Utterly, out-of-her-mind-with-rage levels of livid.

Sure, her earlier comment aimed at her human may have been a stupid thing to say. Maybe she should have been more considerate. But he’d been so off lately, so cold and distant. It didn’t matter that she spent almost every waking moment with him. Kieran had somehow managed to brush her off like she wasn’t bound to him since he turned nineteen.

To put her in a drawer was a move she never thought he’d take. The worst part was how unceremonious it was. How effortlessly he wrapped his fingers around her and dropped her inside. She had to give him credit, he had been gentle with it. But it didn’t change the fact that she was enclosed in darkness and had no means of tracking how much time had passed by.

When the last thing you see is a shadow engulfing you completely before fingers are clamped tight around you, quick and unyielding in the giant's pursuit, not even allowing you to catch your breath as you're being hoisted into the air

When their hand was inches away from snatching you up before they hesitate, unsure, confused, but decide to carry on with the original plan of securing you in their hold

When the capture isn't immediate, instead the giant tries to calm you first with gentle pets to your head and chest, rubbing away tears or grime off your face with their knuckle, moving slow and deliberate so that it's not a shock when their fingers curl under you to lift you up, even if you still struggle

When the giant knows the fight is over, so they take their time in exploring you, teasing you, pulling at your limbs and picking at your clothes in order to get a reaction, especially if it's to rile you up further or feel how your skin flushes under their fingers

When they need to make sure all of your fighting energy has been dispelled, so their hand slams down on top of you to keep you pinned, letting you writhe under their palm until eventually you can only lay limp, and then you can be scooped up

When you turn away and squeeze your eyes shut tight, waiting for a rough capture, but it never comes...nervously peeking to see that the hand has stilled in its decent and instead draws back, rotating at the wrist to be palm up in a soft beckon to come to them on your own accord