Best posts made by littlest-lily

Part 3: Something in the Air

Chapter 43
Evie

There’s a breeze coming in through the open window. It’s gentle, rolling across the surface of the desk like incoming tide. It ruffles the fur of my plush lion nearby and makes a notepad flutter. The warmth it carries presses against my skin like a blanket, a pleasant pressure on the side of my body. Except I’m in just enough of a precarious balance that it almost knocks me over. I overcompensate, not wanting to slip to the side and tumble eight feet down to a hard surface, and so I fall forward instead and immediately crash against the bridge of my friend’s nose. A nose that’s over half as big as I am.

“You good?”

The soft, deep voice rumbles through me, and the vibration feels intimate enough to make me blush. I push back against skin and try to regain balance on the massive arm that serves as my perch at the moment. “I’m good,” I confirm, putting a hand up to gratefully pat the space between the giant’s eyebrows.

I smile at him, even though he can’t see me right now, as his eyes are firmly shut. Aiden’s currently sitting at his desk chair and is leaned forward so that his chin is resting on top of the table, arms folded in front of his face. I’ve climbed up onto his forearm and am now sitting mere millimeters away from eyes. Any awkwardness around me getting all up in his face like this has largely disappeared - we’ve gotten pretty used to it now.

I have what serves as a large painter’s palette next to me, with a single dark brown color filling the container. One of the many miniatures that came home with me and has sat around uselessly for months is a makeup applicator, and I’m wielding it in my hand right now. As I rub the sponge-like applicator into the makeup, I notice that the huge eye that I’m sitting next to isn’t just gently closed anymore. It’s forcefully squeezing shut.

“Relax,” I say with a laugh, giving the giant another pat, “This’ll be fine.”

Aiden lets out a long, deep sigh that’s muffled by his arms. “How did we even get here?” he laments.

Well, I guess we originally got here almost four months ago, when I first got tricked by a literal mad scientist into becoming three inches tall, and was then rescued by the man who would become my closest friend… and perhaps something more. But as for the makeup, that’s just because Moira gave me some eyeshadow to use. The other day I mentioned to her in passing that I hadn’t put on any makeup since I became tiny, and she immediately found the smallest palette she had for me to play with at home. It was fun, finger painting my eyelids, pretending to be back in a world where that kind of thing mattered to me. But as soon as Aiden came over to see my progress, I was struck by a most devilish idea.

“Okay, hold still,” I say, getting onto my knees as I lean closer to one of the giant’s eyelids, sponge in hand. He goes very stiff and his brow is furrowed with concern. “Seriously, relax!” I laugh and I finally touch the makeup to his skin.

“Nnngh…” I almost fall over again as my friend tries and fails to keep from writhing. “I haaaate it.”

I pull my hand back and ask, “Does it hurt?” The tool I’m using is intended for foundation and isn’t exactly meant for eyelids.

“No…” Aiden grumbles, “It just feels so weird!”

I giggle and return back to my work, sliding the applicator and spreading the brown color just over the lashes. “Aww, poor baby,” I coo sarcastically, “Such torture that I’m putting you through…"

“I may never recover,” he responds dramatically.

I chuckle again, although I’m also trying to get this done quickly so that I can leave him alone. He’s making it very difficult. “You’re so twitchy!”

“What do you–” he scoffs, “You’re literally poking my eye!” But I can hear the amusement in his voice now as he tries to keep from laughing and shaking me again.

I finish thickening the line, opting to just make it look more like eyeliner than anything else, and pull away. “I’m almost done,” I assure him, “Just gotta do the other side.”

He’s quieter this time, sensing the end approaching, and I finish my masterpiece. I climb off of his arms and start taking some steps back to admire my handiwork with a big grin on my face. Sensing that I’m off of him now, Aiden blinks open his large hazel eyes and lifts his head off the desk, looking down at me skeptically.

“You look like a rockstar!” I chirp excitedly.

We had set up one of my old hand mirrors onto the desk so that I could see myself, and the giant bends down now so that he can assess the damage. “Oh okay… that’s not so bad,” he mutters.

“I didn’t put on much,” I say, walking over to look at him through the mirror as well. “And I didn’t touch your waterline. No way you’d be able to handle that if this was already too much for you.”

“I have no idea what a waterline is. But thank you for sparing me.”

I look back up at him and can feel all of the butterflies waking up inside me. They sure like to come out these days and flutter around my chest. “Yeah, you look great. It really helps bring out the green of your eyes.”

I notice the slightest bit of color blooming into his cheeks, and as he sits up to his full height he gives me the warmest smile. “Thanks, Eve. Yours looks really good too!”

"Thank you! I never owned much makeup so I’m no expert. We should get Moira to do a better job on you next time.”

“Uhhh yeah we’ll see about that,” he chuckles, “Okay, can I go wash this off now?”

“What, you don’t want to go out on the town like that?” I laugh. “Wait, before you go, can we take a picture of it? Please? You have no idea how good you look.”

He shakes his head in defeat, but he’s beaming nevertheless. “Only if you’re in the picture too.”

“Deal!”

I run closer to him excitedly as he fetches his phone from his pocket and turns on the front facing camera. He leans his head forward, all the way down so that I can stand just beside it. Well, a little bit in front of it too. I could use all the extra size I can get, even if it’s just from perspective.

“Is this our first selfie?” Aiden wonders after snapping a couple of shots.

“I think so!”

“Could we take some more later, without the makeup? Don’t get me wrong, I love what you did on yourself, but you look so pretty without it too.”

Whatever picture he took just then would be featuring me with widened eyes and a redder face. Lovely. Not embarrassing at all. Even though it’s been a week since we both admitted that we were interested in each other, not all that much has actually changed in most of our interactions. I’m still not quite used to this type of compliment.

“S-sure!” I try to say casually, and then in an effort to change the subject I add between snapshots, “Uhh, are these stored on the cloud or anything?”

“No, I never got around to setting that up… Oh, but I guess that’s a good thing, isn’t it? Don’t worry, I’ll be really careful about keeping pictures of you private.”

I thank him and go back to smiling for the camera. We’ve probably taken almost a dozen photos by now, just to make sure there’s a nice one in the batch. I shift my gaze to look at the display instead of the camera lens, and seeing myself on the phone screen… I can’t help feeling a little sad. I look so ridiculous next to him. Like a tiny action figure. Or just a smudge on his cheek.

After another moment I start stepping forward, wondering if getting even closer to the lens would help. Sure enough, the closer I get to the phone, the less puny I look. In fact… maybe I could…

I see Aiden frown from behind me, his expression reflected on the screen, as he tries to figure out what I’m doing. I’m walking right up to the device, until I stop juuuust in the right position. There we go. My head’s about the same size as his now.

The sight is striking, somehow. Or it would be, if the camera wasn’t currently struggling to figure out what to focus on. I’m so close that it can’t get a clear picture of the both of us - either I’m a blurry shape in the foreground, or then I move and become clear while he fades into obscurity. Even on a screen it’s like we don’t quite belong side by side.

“There.” His booming voice makes me flinch as his thumb suddenly presses the digital shutter button. He pulls up the picture he just took, right as the camera was refocusing, so that we both look equally blurry. He chuckles, “Perfect!”

I laugh too - it’s a little hollow, but not forced. I appreciate him so much.

I get a warning in the form of Aiden’s reflection suddenly growing larger on the phone screen, along with the sense of his sheer mass approaching me from behind, as quiet as a hot air balloon drifting in for a landing. He gently kisses my upper back, a gesture that happens from time to time now - it’s the one significant thing that has changed between us. Since I’m on my feet he hardly puts any pressure at all to avoid knocking me over, relying on me to push back against his lips instead. And I do, leaning into him with a more genuine giggle. He’s definitely succeeding in making me feel better.

We’ve been easing into this connection the two of us share. Not rushing it, letting the relationship bud at its own pace, especially since in retrospect it was a bit of weird timing to admit our feelings the day after he accidentally assaulted me. We haven’t really talked about that night since. For now we just enjoy the occasional lingering touch or extended eye contact, an affectionate comment here and there, and sometimes his lips find my back or the side of my head. I wouldn’t say that we’ve “properly” kissed yet as I’m still not sure exactly how to do that, and I don’t quite see ourselves as a “couple.” But whatever we are, I wouldn’t change a thing right now.

“Thanks for being a good sport,” I say as Aiden sits up again. “You can go clean it up. You might want to use makeup remover, I still have some in my bag.”

I briefly give him instructions on how to take off the eyeliner and he nods before responding, “Roger that. While I’m at it I should probably go put away some laundry, I’ve been putting that off… Need anything from me?”

“I’m good! I think I might study for a little bit, actually.” I motion to the Construction Technology spiral textbook that’s already sitting nearby on the desk. I’ve been getting a lot of interesting information from it, surprisingly, and I’m determined to finish reading it.

“You have fun with that,” Aiden says as he makes a face. Classes and studying are clearly the last thing he wants to think about now that he’s on summer break. And with that I’m left to my own devices for a little bit.

I’m glad this is the one textbook I have where I can easily turn the pages on my own, the laminated sheets both stiff and light enough for me to lift and push against. Before getting started, I pause to gaze at the cover for a moment. There in the corner, written in marker, is the name “Evie Ondine” - a relic from a time when I had much larger hands. It trips me out every single time I look at it.

I’m currently working my way through a chapter about prefabrication, and some of the examples are giving me ideas for how to independently package the minis I’m painting for my future business. I now have over twenty of the figurines ready to go and have some more blank ones on the docket - all that’s left is taking product photos and setting up a little packing station and I’ll be ready to launch in hopefully the next couple of weeks.

It wasn’t during such a calm afternoon that I expected disaster to strike.

It happens as I decide to go take a quick note about something I read - I’m keeping some paper nearby for just that purpose. I walk along the binding of the book, and as I step off of the laminated page, I slip on the slick plastic surface. My feet slide forward and the rest of me falls back, and I discover something I’d never noticed before. The wire that coils into a spiral and forms the binding of the textbook curls in on itself at the end. But the little loop extends slightly further than it should into a near imperceptible defect, even to me. And the tip of the metal spiral is very, very sharp.

I feel a sudden hot pain in my left calf. Disoriented, I look around myself, realizing I’m flat on my back now. My leg has passed right over the small knife-like point that was apparently protruding, leaving a long gash in my skin, from just above my ankle to just below my knee. Blood immediately begins pouring out, and I stop breathing at the sight of red quickly spreading onto the desk.

“Shit,” I curse under my breath. For a second the pain disappears as the adrenaline hits. What do I do?

The first aid kit. It’s on the opposite side of the desk from where my living space is, about a foot away from me now, though to me that means over twenty feet. I have to reach it. The pain is quickly returning but I flip onto my stomach anyway, fighting against the growing agony as I crawl forward. I glance over to the side as I drag myself, and I briefly notice the visual timer is actually a much closer target. A spin of that dial is apparently enough to make the thing beep loudly. I’ve still never used it… No, it’s fine, I just need to get to the bandages. All I need to do is stop the blood, I’ve got this. And I keep lurching forward, not thinking straight, just desperately pulling myself across the table.

I’m halfway there when Aiden walks by, a looming figure in the distance, casually strolling from his bedroom to the kitchen. I honestly hardly take notice of him, so incredibly intent on getting to the medical supplies first and foremost. For a split second he shoots me a passing smile, just a quick glance in my direction in the midst of his chores. But then he does a double take, looking back towards me again and freezing in place. For a second he’s very still, eyes widening as he processes my small figure that’s leaving behind a trail of red. And before I know it he’s rushing over to the desk without a word, flying into action.

Not a moment too soon. I’m in so much pain now that I’m struggling to breathe. I have to stop moving, and I crumble to my side as I reflexively clutch at my leg, which is completely covered in blood. There’s a flurry of movement above and around me - Aiden’s reached the first aid kit and he’s extracting a disinfecting wipe from its pouch as quickly as possible.

“Let me help, okay?” he says softly, tightly, and without waiting for an answer I feel his fingers pinch my ankle. I give in to his sudden authority over the situation, and I shield my face with my hands as the injured limb is lifted up. This is apparently the wrong move, though. The metallic smell of the blood that’s now all over my hands almost makes me vomit in my dizzied state. For a second I’m blasted back to a distant memory. The last day I spent in my house as a family of two. I remember the birthday cake on the floor, red ceramic and a red dress and red liquid spilling over my hands…

I’m snapped back to the present as I’m rolled onto my stomach so that Aiden can reach the back of my leg. And then I feel something cold and I can’t help it - I scream. The stinging of the disinfectant is excruciating. I curl in on myself, pressing my face into the ground, trying to muffle my own cries.

“Sorry, sorry…” Aiden whispers, and just a moment later the wet wipe is replaced by a dry gauze, “Are you able to hold this here? Tightly?”

I roll back onto my side and do as I’m told, clutching the tiny scrap of gauze that had thankfully been cut ahead of time for just this kind of emergency. I realize that putting pressure against the wound is important. Meanwhile my giant friend is moving quickly, smearing antibiotic ointment onto a fresh piece of gauze and prepping the already thinly sliced bandage.

“I’ve got it,” he says, taking over again and lifting my leg up high. I’m flipped back onto my stomach, and I bury my face in my arms as I try not to hyperventilate. He’s able to put on much more pressure than I am, though he’s careful not to crush the limb, and then he slowly begins wrapping the calf up. It’s surely a delicate process for him, my leg not much thicker than a matchstick.

The seconds drag by until finally the twelve minutes of terror are over. Aiden’s finished wrapping the wound and just lets my leg rest on top of his finger that’s sitting on the desk, keeping my foot elevated. I hear him exhale tremulously, and if anything the shaking in his hands is actually getting worse. Whatever forced calm he’d been able to summon in the thick of the crisis is crumbling away now. I’m breathing hard, still lying face down, gritting my teeth. The pain isn’t quite as bad as it was a few minutes ago, but god does this still hurt.

Finally there’s a slight tremor - one large elbow coming to rest on the desk as the giant leans back in. “You still with me?” he asks weakly.

I flash him one tiny thumbs up just to show him I haven’t in fact passed out. And then I slowly flip myself over, ankle rotating against the enormous finger as I keep it propped up. I lay on my back and raise my chin to gaze at him. He looks as pale and breathless as I feel.

“Yes,” I finally answer.

Aiden’s jaw clenches as his eyes pass over the length of me before meeting mine again. “We should get you to a hospital, Evie,” he says quietly.

“What?!” I gasp, my emotions heightened by the pain. “No, no, it’s fine! It’s not as bad as it looks… See? I can still move my leg fine. It hurts like a bitch, but it didn’t hit muscle or an artery or anything like that.”

“But what if you still need stitches or something?”

“I don’t. I got really scraped up from how I fell but it wasn’t that deep a cut. Look, the bandage isn’t overflowing. Maybe the bleeding’s already stopped.”

Aiden still looks doubtful. But I’m not just speaking out of fear - although that’s certainly part of it - I really do think this isn’t as serious as it might have appeared. Time will tell. If the bleeding doesn’t stop then we’ll reevaluate.

“I got my tetanus shot right before starting school,” I insist, “Let’s just… let’s just give it a minute before we rush into anything. Okay?”

I think I’ve convinced him, at least for the moment. He takes a deep breath in through his nose and now his gaze starts wandering over the surface of the desk. “What happened?” he asks.

With an unsteady hand I point vaguely towards the textbook. Yikes, there’s so much blood on the way. No wonder I feel so dizzy. “I fell on the tip of the… the spiral…” I say.

Aiden looks to where I’m motioning and reaches for the bottom of the book’s spine, thumbing the metallic end in question. Without a word he closes the pages and slides the entire thing off the desk, dropping it to the floor below. He takes in just how long the streak of red is that stretches across the desk.

Then he speaks again, and there’s a new edge to his voice now. “Why didn’t you call for me? I was just over there, you were right next to the timer. Why go all the way across the desk instead?”

I look away in shame. I hadn’t realized how ingrained my habits were. “I don’t know…”

There’s a long pause. A heavy sigh. “You have got to learn to ask for help, Eve.”

His frustration is all too clear. I haven’t stopped trembling since I cut myself, but the anxiety gets worse at his harsh tone. I grasp at words, trying to come up with an explanation. “I thought I had it, I… I just… I didn’t want to bothe–” I stop myself, knowing how stupid I was about to sound.

He fills in the blank anyway and raises his voice sharply, “Alright well it bothers me that you lost so much blood just now!”

“I’m sorry,” I whimper. My leg slips off of his finger and I fearfully curl into the fetal position, facing away from him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Aiden sighs, this time not out of frustration but out of guilt. His hand comes closer, not quite touching me but cupping to align with the curve of my spine. His ring finger softly makes contact with the top of my head.

“No, I’m sorry,” he says with a much more gentle tone, “I know this isn’t helping. Now’s not the time.”

He leans all the way down, resting his forehead on his hand so that he can be right above me, his face becoming my ceiling. His eyes are closed next to my head and I feel his exhale pass over my feet.

“That just really scared me,” he whispers.

I’m completely silent, still shaking, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, my new makeup smudged and mixing with the blood I’ve smeared on my face. My leg is throbbing. My mind is heavy with the reminder of how fragile my entire existence is. One wrong move is all it takes. We’re always just one small step away from all of this falling apart.

Another breeze rolls in through the window, mussing our hair, and this time it’s anything but pleasant. Right now it just feels cold.

@foreverlurk Oh for sure, I’d imagine it would be more of a fantasy for us SW than for the giants lol. Similar to how I’m not really into the tiny lady harem thing - or how I would imagine that the ones interested in FF/m are mostly men. I know I wouldn’t want to share the attention either

And I swear, I could probably read an entire story that consists of only dialogue haha. (Someone make a M/f radio play!)

Chapter 45
Evie

I’ve been staring out the window for a very long time. There are residual raindrops from the storm last night still clinging to the glass. Rays of light are beginning to shyly peek out from the clouds. The streets are empty as far as I can tell, almost eerily quiet.

There are subtle sounds in the apartment behind me. Occasional magnified footsteps, a waterfall running in the sink, the distant buzz of the refrigerator. But I just keep my eyes on the window as I sit upright on my bed. There’s a tree within eyeshot, its foliage level with the second story where I am. For way too long last night I was watching a bird trying to take shelter from the rain in those branches. The wind kept knocking the poor thing askew as it continually shook water from its wings. It fought hard to wait out the storm, but it was just so vulnerable and helpless. Eventually it flew off to look for better shelter. I hope it found some.

I can tell that the footsteps are heading in my direction now, but I’m too busy staring to acknowledge them. Finally there’s the sound of the chair creaking behind me.

“Need anything?” Aiden asks softly.

I shake my head. “I’m good, thanks.”

One massive hand floats over to my side as the giant lightly touches my arm with the back of a finger joint. “Talk to me. What’s up?”

I finally turn away from the window to smile up at him. “Sorry. Just didn’t sleep great, I guess. I’m fine.”

He sighs, and the smile he gives me in return is sympathetic. “When’s the last time you were able to get much sleep?”

I laugh wryly. “How long ago did I hurt myself?”

“About a week.”

“About a week.” I shrug. “The pain at night’s getting better. Hopefully no thunder tonight and then I’ll be totally rested tomorrow.”

We chat for a little bit longer before Aiden leaves to get me some breakfast, and I decide to sit facing his direction now, away from the window. I watch him with interest, his too-large body traversing vast distances with such ease. We’re stark opposites of each other in that regard. But I’m glad to have him around. I look forward to being able to climb into his hand without any assistance, or walk along his shoulders in a light massage while we watch a movie, or just be able to get up from the bed and write him a note like we normally would. If the universe ever decides to give me a break, I promise to myself to never take that kind of thing for granted again.

I’ll be seeing less of him today, though. Summer classes are starting soon, which means my roommate will be going back to work. Thankfully he won’t be gone all that much compared to a normal semester where he’d also be taking classes himself, but he has orientation today and it’s scheduled to take up most of the day.

Thankfully Moira’s coming. I’ve been looking forward to it - I haven’t seen her in quite a while now since she’s been so busy with work. We’ve been texting and talking on the phone a little bit, but it just hasn’t been the same. We’ve already vowed not to let this much time pass without hanging out again.

Oh hey, speak of the devil. I sit up straighter at the sound of a knock at the door. Aiden lets her in and I can tell she’s trying to suppress her bubbliness as she crosses the room with him. She looks so adorable, her strawberry-blonde hair half pulled back with a summery ribbon. I beam at her, as tired as I am, waving excitedly. Our voices climb up in pitch as we reunite.

Once we’ve all caught up a little bit, Aiden talks Moira through our setup, showing her where he keeps various new supplies since my injury. We spend some time explaining the best way to lift me up, finger and thumb just under my arms, so that my leg is spared when I need to be relocated. Mo practices with some hesitation, and it takes a little bit of time but she’s able to transfer me onto her palm without issue. I go ahead and stay there as she finishes talking to Aiden and he finally heads off to work.

Once it’s just the two of us, Moira turns back to me, setting her hand on the table’s surface and crouching down so that her face is level with me. Now that she doesn’t have to think as much about logistics for the day, it seems like she’s finally taking me in.

“Aww, Evie…” she says quietly, “Your poor leg. It’s such a big cut.”

I smirk and gesture at my heavily bandaged up calf. “What are you talking about? It’s less than an inch long.”

She rolls her eyes. “Hardy har. Are you okay right now, can I get you anything?”

“Maybe just a change in scenery?” I admit with a wince. “I don’t even care where.”

“Sure!” she chirps, carefully getting back to her feet while moving her arms as little as possible, “Let’s go down by the ottoman for a bit?”

It’s only a couple of feet away, but to me it’s akin to going to a different room in the house, so I welcome it anyway. Moira sits down and rests her hands with me in them onto the ottoman. She makes no gesture to take me off of her though, and I gratefully linger in her palm.

“How have things been otherwise?” she asks me avidly, “I can’t believe it’s been over three weeks since we’ve hung out.”

“I know, I’ve missed you,” I answer with a smile. “Um, I’ve been pretty good I guess, up until the injury.”

“So you and Aiden have been doing alright then? Ever since…?”

Oh, right. I’d called Moira on the phone just after Aiden accidentally grabbed me in his sleep, but we haven’t been able to talk about it since. I haven’t even told her about our trip to the lab yet. I nod and say, “Yeah. It was just an accident, we’ve been figuring things out. Things have been… great, honestly.”

I can already feel myself blushing a little bit as I squirm inwardly. I also haven’t told her about just how close Aiden and I have been getting. I’m still not completely sure what it will all amount to, and I don’t know if I feel ready to talk about it yet. Thankfully she doesn’t pry.

“I’m glad to hear that. You two are handling all of this like champions. Although - and please don’t take this the wrong way - you look really exhausted, girl.”

I shrug, still feeling awkward from the previous subject, and I try to brush aside her concern. “It’s hard to sleep with all of this bandaging. But it’s healing. I’ll be just fine.”

“Hang in there… I can actually relate a little bit. It sucks when you’re trying to recover from something, but said thing is keeping you from getting the rest you need. It’s a vicious cycle.”

My eyebrows shoot up at this new fragment of information. “Oh? Have you dealt with any injuries before?” I ask curiously.

“Not exactly. I had a heart condition when I was younger, and sometimes the episodes would happen at night.” She reacts to the sudden look of horror on my face by waving her free hand reassuringly, “It’s all good now though!”

“Moira, I had no idea,” I stutter, still very concerned about the current state of her health. “You’re sure it’s all good now?”

“Oh yeah. I eventually had a procedure done that completely took care of it. But I was struggling with it for years since my parents didn’t take it seriously. Until I ended up in the hospital, and then the doctors were able to see exactly what was happening.”

I’m seeing her in a new light now that I know she’s battled through something so major. I wish I could do something as simple as crawl over to her thumb so that I can give it a hug. But even that would be a struggle right now, so I just try to commiserate. “That must have been so rough.”

“Yeah, it was hard,” she mutters as one corner of her mouth turns up. “Probably not as hard as being inches tall with a busted leg, though.”

I smile up at her weakly. I think we’ve just formed a new level of kinship here.

Her tone shifts as she says, “You know what helped make me feel better when I was going through that?” She turns to the side and uses her unoccupied hand to rummage through her purse before pulling out a small grocery bag. “Baking. I brought blackberries!”

I perk up. “Yeah, that sounds great. You’re welcome to use the kitchen if you like. I just wish I could help.”

“You can!” she says eagerly. “You’ve mentioned one of your favorite recipes was blackberry cobbler, right? I’ve never made cobbler myself, so… can you teach me?”

Despite the fatigue, I straighten up fully with budding excitement. Maybe having a task to do is just what I need right now.

Moira carries me to the kitchen and helps me find a comfortable seat on a bag of brown sugar. Between what she brought and what’s already in the cupboards we have everything we need, and I recite the recipe steps as best as I can from memory. I’ve helped teach Aiden how to make many different meals at this point, but while he was a fairly inexperienced cook when I moved in, Mo already knows her way around the kitchen tools, so she makes my job easy.

“My childhood friend Lynne taught me this recipe,” I say once the cobbler is safely in the oven. “Maybe that’s another reason why I’m so fond of it.”

“Oh, I’m not sure you’ve ever mentioned her to me before,” Moira says as she gets back to standing. “Do you guys still keep in touch at all?”

I tell her the same story that I’ve told Aiden before, that I was good friends with this kid in elementary school, how they were the one who got me into baking and anime. And how the moment they talked to me about feeling confused about their gender and my mom overheard our conversation, I was forced to change schools and never saw my former best friend again. It’s a bit of a downer of a tale, but revisiting Lynne in my mind is kinda nice. I bet they would have gotten along really well with Moira, actually… I wonder how they’re doing now.

My giant friend looks sympathetic. “Hmm. Sounds like your mom was… a little close minded?”

“You could say that,” I mumble. Talking to her about the hard stuff is always cathartic, but I need to be careful. I’m starting to head into forbidden-conversation territory.

“So is mine,” Moira sympathizes. “My dad’s even worse.”

My shoulders slump. “I’m sorry to hear that. You get along with your sister though, right?” I remember her mentioning that her sister was planning to visit in the fall.

“Yeah, we get along okay, I guess. She’s the only family member I still talk to at all.” Suddenly she winces and clasps her hands together apologetically. “Sorry, Evie, I don’t mean to keep bringing things back to me.”

I laugh out loud at this. “Are you kidding me? First of all, I want to be there for you too if you ever need to vent. Second of all, you’re helping me feel less alone in my problems. I literally have no family left… Not that I miss them.”

She nods with relief and says, “Hey, blood ties can be overrated. I personally prefer friends.”

I stay silent and thoughtful for a minute as she starts cleaning up the countertop. The only reason I’m friends with Moira is because Aiden introduced me… because I was lonely. I’ll admit, I still get lonely sometimes. I’ve dealt with various levels of loneliness my entire life, even when I was surrounded by people. The difference now is that I can say with absolute confidence that my only two friends are some of the best people I’ve ever met. That’s something to be thankful for, at least.

“Hey, Moira?” I call out. She looks down to acknowledge me, her big green eyes bright and attentive. From my still seated position, I stretch my arms up towards her face. “Can I have a hug?”

For a second she just blinks in surprise. Then she smiles shyly as she crouches down, until her eyes are level with me on the counter. “That’s not reserved for a certain someone?” she asks sheepishly.

My fingertips spread out for emphasis as I say, “It’s reserved for the people I really care about.”

She leans in slowly, cautious about doing anything that might hurt me, but she lets her eyes close once I make contact with her face. I lean against her nose and then hug my arms to her cheek, pressing my own cheek against her skin. Her head is markedly smaller than Aiden’s, her features are so dainty, and she smells like lilac instead of cedarwood. It’s a completely different kind of intimacy, but a tender one nonetheless. I feel like the smile that’s on my face is the first genuine one that I’ve had all day.

Soon the cobbler’s ready and we’re back in the living room enjoying the sweet treat. After that we play some conversation games like Would You Rather and 20 Questions, where I don’t need to stand up to participate. Later we watch a Disney movie as we cool off with some iced tea.

My heart soars with gratitude. Even when Aiden was unable to help with my shit mood today, there was Moira, ready to take the baton. I can’t wait to share some of this cobbler with him once he finishes work. At long last I’m feeling like I can see the light at the end of the tunnel despite this injury. I’m finally able to return to my usual mantra - don’t give up, fight back, work harder. Take that, universe.

@blehb Seconded! A beautiful elf man would be very much up my alley

In any case would prefer anything that’s not orc/goblin/etc. I feel like so often (mostly talking mainstream stuff here) giants are portrayed as big ugly ogres, which does nothing for me personally.

Chapter 74
Evie

I hum with pleasure as I burrow myself into the crook of Aiden’s neck. I’ve dragged the loose collar of his sweater to drape over myself like a blanket, soft and weighted. We might as well be outside by the campfire again, it’s so cozy.

I feel his chuckle in response to me making myself at home, and it’s like he’s moving in slow motion as he carefully leans forward from his seated position on the couch. He’s got a small portable propane burner set up on the coffee table just ahead of us, and he’s holding a large skewered marshmallow out for roasting. Earlier we realized we hadn’t had any s’mores yet on this trip, and that felt like a travesty. So even though we’ve relegated ourselves to the loft upstairs for the evening, away from the rest of the group, we’ve figured out a way to enjoy the sweet treat regardless.

“You all packed up?” I ask him lazily, gazing down the long length of my giant’s arm leading towards the little flame on the table.

“Yeah, pretty much,” he responds. “I’ll be ready to leave first thing in the morning.”

“Sounds good. I think I’m mostly there. Oh, I’m just remembering - we left some of my things out to dry in the living room from the hot tub. Like my swimsuit and stuff.”

“Oh, right, we did. I’ll make a mental note… Whoops.”

The marshmallow has just caught fire in a small burst of orange. Aiden quickly brings it to his mouth, and I tense up at the heat coming so close. But with a quick puff of air he blows out the flame.

“I think it’s ready," he muses, twirling the skewer between his fingers to assess the damage. There’s a small patch of black but the rest of it looks perfectly toasted. My mouth is already watering.

“That smells so good,” I groan, and as much as I hate to abandon my warm little nook, the scent of the sugar is calling to me. I crawl forward and turn around to climb down the front of the titan’s chest, easily finding handholds in the chunky sweater.

“Careful,” Aiden murmurs, his tone tinged with amusement as I make my way down his body. His free hand approaches to hover nearby in case I lose my grip, but to his credit he lets me make the quick journey to his lap on my own.

I walk along his thigh to get closer to where the rest of the set up is on the coffee table, the graham crackers and chocolate ready to go. I sit on his knee to watch him assemble the massive gooey sandwich, and then he breaks off a corner so that he can hand it to me. My portion is the size of an entire pizza, but it’s enticing nonetheless, the chocolate already melting against the hot marshmallow. The nibble I take is simply divine, in that cheap artificial kind of way.

“I can’t even remember the last time I’ve had s’mores,” I ponder.

Aiden finishes chewing his own bite and then beams down at me. “You’ve now officially experienced camping. Congratulations.”

I tilt my head back to respond with my own grin between bites. We eat in silence for a couple of minutes as we hear the sudden raised voices coming from excited conversation downstairs. There’s some laughter as I catch that Diego is poking fun at Star for something. And then it sounds like they’re all relocating from the dining area to the living room, and Camila is avidly telling the other girls that she wants to take some pictures for her Instagram. It’s a good thing I’m not there, actually. The last thing I want is to end up on social media, even if it’s by accident.

But I really do wish we could be down there and hang out with the rest of them. Part of why I was so excited for this trip was to spend more time with Moira, Diego and Star. And yet for all of our last day together we spent it separated. It’s such a bummer.

“I do hope we can do more stuff like this with the others,” I say, brushing off some of the graham cracker crumbs I’ve been leaving on my boyfriend’s leg. I don’t have to specify what I mean when I say that. He obviously knows I’m excluding someone with that statement.

Admittedly, I haven’t told Aiden at all about what happened in the kitchen earlier today, so he doesn’t know just how much I’m wanting to avoid Camila at this point. I really do plan on telling him eventually. I just don’t want to stir the pot right now. All it might do is make him angry enough to confront her without thinking things through. Moira said they’d be keeping an eye on Camila tonight to make sure no more altercations happen, so it just feels pointless to cause a fuss… I can vent my heart out on the car ride back tomorrow morning.

My towering partner gives me a sympathetic smile in response to my current lamenting, and he softly strokes my spine with the back of a finger joint. “I’m sure we’ll get more chances to do fun things with them. Remember the other day during the hike, when Diego was suggesting that you, me and Moira come spend the night at their place? Does that sound like fun?”

I lean into his touch and nod. “Yeah, it does. And maybe we can actually travel somewhere else with them. I doubt the logistics would work out, but that Disney trip sounded pretty great.”

“Totally. This weekend isn’t the end all be all, there will be other opportunities.”

I let myself slowly collapse all the way back now, so that I’m fully laying over his hand as I look straight up at him. I sigh, “You always know how to make me feel better.”

Aiden’s smile softens as he murmurs, “I’m glad.”

“Okay, I’m going to stop before I get a stomachache,” I add, lifting my still-huge portion of the treat up towards him. He laughs and pinches what’s more like a crumb to him out of my hands so that he can pop it into his own mouth.

He starts cleaning things up at that point, but I’m still splayed onto his fingers. They twitch below me, gently requesting I get off of them, but I refuse, simply flipping over so that I can cling to them even more. This doesn’t escape the giant’s notice, and he pauses in his one-handed tidying to address me.

“Hey, I need that arm,” he finally says with a raised eyebrow.

“No you don’t,” I insist, and at this point I’m trying to crawl inside his grasp and pull his fingertips to close around me. This captures his attention all the more. Aiden drops the box of graham crackers and pivots in my direction, causing my heart to flutter as he suddenly takes up more of my vision. He lifts me off of his knee and relocates me to the armrest of the couch that he’s on, so that he can encircle one arm around me. And he leans in close, so close that his breath tickles my skin and I could reach out and touch his lips.

“You are so goddamn cute,” he whispers, his eyes scanning the length of me. I revel in being the center of his attention.

“Mm-hmm,” I hum, “That’s my secret weapon. It seems that I’ve tamed the fearsome giant.”

“You keep telling yourself that, short stack," Aiden teases and he kisses me, his mouth pressing heavily against my chest. I flop back, buckling under his weight and struggling not to laugh at his playful showing of dominance.

“I got you to stop what you were doing, didn’t I?” I insist, shivering with pleasure as his lips move on to caress my neck and shoulder.

He maintains contact and so his voice rumbles through me. “Mmmm, true. Alright. I surrender.”

I can’t stop giggling as we snuggle into each other. This is one of those moments that’s overwhelming for all the right reasons. Sometimes I really adore the fact that there’s so much of him.

“I love you, babe,” I tell him wistfully.

He stops kissing me so that his face can descend, my view of his mouth quickly replaced by the stunning hazel of his eyes instead. He’s so close that I can practically see my reflection in them. “I love you too, Evie.”

He lays his head down and appears to settle in beside me, sighing contentedly and relaxing his posture. But soon his smile shifts into a look of consternation instead. And then he sheepishly shifts gears.

“Actually… I suck for interrupting this, but… mind if I go downstairs real quick? Just need to go pee.”

I smile. “Yeah, go ahead. I’m fine here,” I say, scooting back. Then as he sits up I suddenly think of something that has been subtly bothering me with how dry the air has gotten. “Actually, would you mind finding my lip balm while you’re at it?”

“Sure, do you remember where it is?”

“Check the shelf just in case, but otherwise it’s either in my black pouch or somewhere in your duffle bag… Sorry, that’s not very helpful.”

“No worries, I’ll find it. Be right back.”

I watch him leave and sigh as I lean back against a couch cushion. At least I can catch my breath. I’m feeling so warm from pleasure and from my boyfriend’s proximity. It’s a little dizzying after such a long day. A long three days, if we’re being frank.

Actually, what would be really nice is a quick breath of fresh air. I glance upwards and off to the side. Right next to this couch is a window, unfortunately closed. But I’m starting to be good at noticing invisible paths. If I were to walk along that windowsill, I could hop onto a nearby table… and on the other end of that table is a second window, opened by a crack. It’s not all that far. What the heck.

The most strenuous part is going from the armrest to the top of the couch backing, since the cushion that I’m climbing is so pliant. But from there I quickly make my way from platform to platform, and I’ve reached the open window in under two minutes. I notice nervously that there isn’t any kind of mosquito screen, just a gap that gives out to a cliff from the second story. I give the opening a very wide berth, moving as far away from it as I safely can on the table.

I take a seat and gaze out at the night. A big, almost-full moon shines like a melting snowball in the sky. The rustling of distant trees fills the air, devoid of their rich colors in the dark. I do get some of that fresh air I was craving. Yikes, the temperature has severely dropped since we last went outside, I guess that cold front must have hit. I should’ve asked Aiden to get my coat too, maybe even a scarf. Meanwhile I was feeling so warm from his body heat that I’d taken my socks and jacket off, and they’re still on the couch.

A breeze brushes me from behind and I shiver. Alright, I can’t handle this, I need to go back to the couch right now for the warmer clothes. I get to my feet and frown as I realize something. The breeze was coming from behind?…

I’m abruptly knocked down to my hands and knees. Wind whips at my hair and I curl up reflexively, gasping at how suddenly and violently it just pushed me. I realize that there must be another open window nearby, maybe in Camila’s room, and it’s causing a draft. But this split-second thought is useless to me as I don’t have any time to react to what happens next.

The following gust is so powerful that I find myself airborne for a moment. I cry out in fear as I tumble forward, bouncing against the table as I roll out of control. Desperately I try to get back up, grab onto something, drag myself out of the way of the air current, but it’s too strong, too fast, and it’s like I’m getting inhaled towards a dark, gaping maw. All of it happens within just a couple of seconds so I’m in complete shock as I fall right out the window.

Thankfully my arms grab reflexively the second I hit any surface. I grip tightly to some kind of flimsy platform, and I hold on for dear life. I can’t see anything, can’t make sense of it, but I’m not falling - I’m being whipped around and am too terrified to make a sound, but I manage to hang on until the wind finally relents.

I’m gasping for air as I look up, towards the light of the room I was just in. It’s a good twenty feet above me now. I shiver in the dark, wondering what I’ve even landed on. It’s relatively stiff but quite thin even to me… oh, god. I’m hanging onto a leaf. There are vines that have scaled up the side of the cabin walls with large, bedsheet-sized leaves having grown firm with the season. That’s all that’s keeping me from plummeting to my death.

I have to climb up this vine, back up to the window. But I’m scared to budge, to do anything that will cause me to lose my grip. Fuck, fuck, what do I do?!

And then I hear voices. I didn’t notice them coming up the stairs while the wind was blowing at full force, but I can hear them now that they’re in the loft proper. One is Star, and she’s talking to someone, surely to Aiden. He’ll be looking for me, he’ll figure it out, he’ll find me out here, I just need to hang on–

“Oh jeez, it’s freezing!” Star complains, “Crap, we’ll need one of the guys to help close the window in your room.”

“I’ll at least close this one, hold on.”

My heart sinks. No, not Aiden. And the two girls might not know that I was still upstairs. They don’t know to look for me. But Camila said she was going to the window, she’s coming this way. I have to get her attention.

I see her silhouette looming behind the glass pane over my head. To these giants, I’m only a few inches away. I’m so close. Camila puts her hands on the edge of the window, but before she pushes down she takes a quick glance outside, up at the moon and then down… at me. Our eyes meet. I break into a relieved smile right as I shout, “Camil–”

The window slams shut. Her name dies in my throat. I stare wide-eyed, still cast in her shadow, as she locks the latch. She’s no longer looking at me. I could have sworn she saw me, but… Oh my god. What the fuck do I do now.

At this point I’m trembling from the effort of hanging on to this leaf. I have no choice anymore, I have to move before I lose my grip. Maybe I can still climb up the vine and start hitting the window. Aiden will be back eventually, he’ll find me. He has to.

I reach one arm out, up the long stem that attaches this leaf to its trunk. The tumultuous weather is making it exceedingly difficult, it takes several seconds for my fingertips to even touch the stem. But even when I reach it the wind is unrelenting, and I’m pummeled by another gust with the power of a hurricane. I watch in horror as the stem that I’m holding onto detaches from its anchor. The vertigo hits me with so much force that I’m unable to scream as I careen into the night.

@i-am-insane I think for a lot of us there might be an important distinction to make here. Are you asking us why we find the fantasy appealing? Or are you asking why a a character in a story might want to actually shrink?

Because for me, I could tell you all the reasons I love the idea of being tiny, but a lot of it works much much better in fantasy than it works in reality. The fluff stuff might transfer over (like the idea of being comforted and protected and cared for by a giant, that sounds pretty good IRL). I could go on and on about that if you like~

But a big part of my kink side is being dominated - someone else making me smaller and smaller and having their fun with me. The loss of control and the fear itself play a big role for me in that fantasy - but of course, that doesn’t mean I want to be violated in real life. So for a character in a story, I’m not sure that kind of motivation would necessarily work? I suppose you could have a character who has a size kink and so is curious to explore that if she gets the opportunity (and either it’s all sweet and consensual, or she gets in over her head). But if you’re wanting to write a character who doesn’t have the size fixation to begin with but still wants to get small in the story, that might affect her motivations.

Chapter 75
Aiden

“Has anyone seen Evie?”

I’m breathless from hurrying down the stairs and into the living room. Four pairs of eyes turn to me as everyone goes silent.

Star is the first to speak. “I hate that you just asked that question.”

Moira’s already on her feet and rushing over to me. She puts a hand on my elbow as she looks at me intently, keeping her voice calm and even to counter the panic that’s clearly rising in my chest.

“Where’s the last place you saw her?” she asks.

“I was just with her up in the loft, like, less than ten minutes ago,” I pant, “She wasn’t on the couch where I left her, but… I thought I just heard people on the stairs so…”

Everyone else is also standing and approaching at this point and Star says, “Yeah, Camila and I were up there just now. We didn’t see her. Figured she was with you, though, so we weren’t looking particularly close.”

“Maybe she’s still up there then?” Diego adds with a furrowed brow.

It feels like there’s a vice squeezing around my heart. It’s true that I didn’t search for very long when I went up and saw the couch was empty. I figured she must have left with someone, for whatever reason. But if that’s not the case, then my mind is jumping to worst case scenarios. If she was still in the loft, why didn’t she call out for me?

“O-okay, I’ll go back up,” I stutter, fighting a wave of dizziness.

Camila frowns and says, “She has to be up there. Can she even get down the stairs?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so. At least, not that quickly.”

Diego starts glancing around the room. “We’ll take a look down here just in case she somehow hitched a ride.”

“What, hopped onto one of our shoes? Without us noticing?” Star asks incredulously.

“I dunno, maybe!”

“Why would she do that though…” I mutter, but I don’t linger here to chat about it - I’ve already turned to leave.

Moira’s on my tail. “I’m coming with you.”

“Alright. Um…” I take a pause right as I’m about to head out of sight, looking towards the rest of the group. “Everyone, just… watch your step.”

We hasten back up to the loft, scanning the stairs as we take them two or three at a time. And we begin the search.

Option one. Evie fell and hurt herself.

I look everywhere around the couch first - under it, behind it, circling the perimeter and eventually pulling back cushions. There’s a windowsill right next to the couch, a table alongside that, another window on the other side, and I search the floor diligently under any of these platforms that she could have reached. I even look a little further, around another chair that she miiiight have been able to get to if she jumped far enough. I don’t know why she would even risk that, but I look anyway. Nothing.

I do feel a modicum of relief at this. I was so terrified to find her tiny crumpled form on the floor, unconscious or worse. But her sheer absence is still wildly disconcerting.

Option two. Evie climbed down, possibly to get something.

I take a closer look at the couch to see if there are any loose threads or something that she might have used to get herself to the ground without falling. I don’t notice anything right away, all I find are her little jacket and minuscule socks. I try to remember what else she was wearing - could she have dropped something that bounced away, and then managed to climb down to fetch it? In my agitation my memories of the state of things right before I left her are a bit fuzzy.

This line of thinking widens my search to nearby structures that she’d be able to reach by walking. I call her name a few times as I look, but the futility of that is readily apparent.

She’d asked me to get her lip balm. That’s what had taken me so long, I wasn’t able to find it. Maybe she got tired of waiting for me? Could she have tried to borrow some from Moira, whose bed and belongings are up here? There are several bags close by, it’s not impossible that Evie got trapped in one of them. I let Mo search that while I head into Camila’s room to start searching the bags in there, eventually making it to the bathroom and sifting through some of the toiletries that are accessible from the floor. Nothing.

Option three. Something scared Evie and she’s hiding.

Could an animal have gotten into the house? I quickly decide that the odds of that are fairly slim. It’s dark out and all of the lights are on in the cabin, surely a deterrent for most critters. All the windows are closed downstairs. The only open window is the one that’s stuck open in Camila’s room, since it’s still as busted up as when I was wrenching at it yesterday. There aren’t any trees near that side of the cabin for some oddly behaving squirrel to jump from. I suppose a bird could have tried, but even if something was really determined to get in, the window is barely open at all, I don’t think even a sparrow would be able to squeeze through the gap.

A bug perhaps? While I’m not sure how likely it would be for a spider or roach to crawl in through the second-story window, and the house otherwise seems well sealed as we haven’t seen any insects in the cabin during our stay, I doubt that it’s foolproof. It’s certainly possible that some kind of large bug is lurking in one of these rooms and might have freaked little Evie out.

This gets me to start opening up cabinets and drawers. I get down low and try to imagine the world from her perspective, try to ask myself where I would hide if I was frightened at three inches tall. Within the folds of the shower curtain, inside a cupboard, behind lamp stands, under the beds, on top of luggage. Nothing.

Option four. Evie’s playing a prank on me.

This seems like the least likely of options, but after twenty minutes of nerve-wracking investigation, it briefly passes through my brain nevertheless. If she’s fully conscious, it’s just so weird that she hasn’t said anything. Unless she’s keeping quiet on purpose?

Moira’s downstairs now and I’m doing one last sweep up here before I stop and stand still in the center of the loft.

“Eve, please let this be a joke,” I say to the room desperately. “We always said that you’d be good at hide and seek. You win, okay?”

I wouldn’t even be mad at her if that’s all it took for her to show herself. I try to will her into existence, imagining her popping out from her hiding spot and calling to me with a giggle. But of course… no such luck.

Even though I can’t think of a plausible way she could have made it downstairs, I’m running out of ideas, so I join everyone else and start searching each room in turn. I look under every couch and chair. I search the pantry and kitchen floor for any recently dropped crumb trails. I’m sifting through baskets and bags and boxes. I closely examine her camp on the nightstand, trying to remember how I’d left it, though as far as I can tell it’s untouched.

Everyone else is diligently searching as well, moving cautiously from room to room, tiptoeing as their eyes scan the floor. It’s so bewildering that not only have none of us found her, we haven’t even found any sign of her. It’s like she vanished into thin air.

After over an hour of fruitless searching, I’m alone back up in the loft, feeling beside myself with worry. I take a second to sit down, on a couch opposite to the one that I had left her on. I sit and stare at the armrest where I last saw my precious little girlfriend.

Option five. Evie’s upset with me.

After tearing the place apart, it just makes no sense that none of us have found a single clue. Unless she was actively avoiding us by moving from one hiding place to another?

"Did I do something wrong, babe?” I ask softly into the air. Silence is my only answer.

Has she been suffering over something I wasn’t aware of? Did the Camila-related stresses get to her even more than I realized? Did I not do enough to make sure she felt secure and safe and loved and heard? Should I have insisted that we go straight home this afternoon? Or is it the opposite, did I overreact and it ended up frustrating her? Sometimes she still closes in on herself, sometimes she can still be hard to read, especially with how tiny her expressions are, how weak her voice is - maybe I missed something, maybe it was me. At this point I would rather it be that she’s avoiding me than any of the far worse alternatives.

“Please, Evie. Come back,” I say, my voice breaking. Tears blur up my vision and I drop my head to bury my face in my hands as I quietly sob, "Please, please be okay…”

I cry uncontrollably for the next minute or so, dangerously close to coming completely undone. I just don’t know what to do anymore. All my brain is giving me are new and horrific ideas on what could have happened to her. I’m getting eaten alive by despair.

It’s the sound of the staircase creaking that gets me to go silent. I rub at my eyes and take a deep breath before looking up at whoever’s come up to join me.

It’s Camila. Her posture is meek and tense, her expression hesitant. Her dark eyes meet mine, and she sighs as she walks over.

“Oh, Aiden…” she says quietly, “I’m so sorry. You must be so stressed out…”

I stiffen as she approaches, but I let her hug me. She sits down on top of the armrest right next to me and wraps her arms around my neck. I take in the little comfort I can get from this, silently letting it happen. I don’t feel motivated enough to fight it.

That is, until she slips down onto the couch proper after a minute, so that she’s sitting right at my side. She extends the supportive embrace by taking my arm in hers and leaning her head onto my shoulder. Something about it makes me naturally recoil - it feels too much like last night when she got drunk. And when I glance at her face and notice her expression looking far too serene, a spark of anger flashes inside me. Her advances suddenly don’t feel like they come from someone who’s just trying to comfort a friend… but rather someone who’s trying to take advantage of the situation.

I pull my arm away from her and give her a dark look. “Seriously, Camila? Seriously?”

Her jaw clenches and she stutters, “I-I’m just trying to–”

“Save it,” I snap, getting to my feet. “I can’t deal with you right now. In fact…”

I pause and go still as I glare at her. My exhausted mind starts working. I’ve been desperate and confused ever since my partner’s disappearance. But maybe this should have been obvious from the start. Maybe all of the answers are staring me in the face.

Option six. Someone else is responsible for Evie’s absence.

There’s hardly any emotion in my voice at all as I lock eyes with Camila and confront her. “You were up here, right? Just before she disappeared.”

She holds my gaze for several long seconds and extrapolates from my accusatory look. “You’re implying I have something to do with this?” she asks, eyes narrowing. “You seriously think I would do that?”

I speak quietly, tensely. “You’ve had it out for her from day one. You’ve said things I didn’t know you were capable of saying. I don’t know what you’re capable of anymore.”

She’s the one who ups the volume as she abruptly gets to her feet. “Aiden, that’s ridiculous! I would never do anything to hurt someone.”

“You already have. Can’t you see that?” I say with growing agitation. “How can you not realize how shitty you’ve been to Evie? You can’t blame me for getting suspicious at this point!"

Her shoulders move up and down with her breath as she gets more and more riled up. She’s glaring at me with intensity as a thousand thoughts seem to pass through her mind. Finally she snarls, “I don’t know what she told you, but I didn’t lay a hand on her in the kitchen. I didn’t do anything!”

I fall into stunned silence for a second. “The kitchen?” I ask, “What are you talking about?”

Camila stiffens and doesn’t respond, looking down at her boots. My heart is racing. Did something happen that Evie didn’t tell me about? What the hell is going on?

“What happened, Camila?” I insist, taking a step towards her. “When was this? What did you do?!”

“Nothing!” she protests, “We just… we just had an argument. I didn’t say anything I hadn’t already said.”

I throw my arm out, my voice edging towards unhinged. “Oh, you mean about how you think she’s a freak? A charity case? That I’m better off without her? All of that is ‘nothing’?!”

“See, this is exactly what–” she stops herself, shutting her mouth forcefully. I can see it in her eyes, I know what she was about to get at. The fact that Evie is missing is proving Camila’s point from earlier about my relationship causing me stress. But she has enough wisdom not to say it out loud right now.

“Aiden, I don’t think it was her,” a soft voice interjects. I whip around to see Moira reaching the top of the stairs, looking weary. “She was with us all evening, aside from grabbing something from her room. Star had eyes on Camila the whole time they were up here.”

Star’s coming up behind her, nodding forlornly in confirmation. Diego’s there too, and he doesn’t say anything, looking conflicted about the way I was just accusing his cousin. Moira herself seems uncomfortable in coming to Camila’s defense, but she’s looking at me with pleading eyes.

“Then where is she?!” I exclaim desperately. “For fuck’s sake, she could be dead right now!”

Moira flinches at that, tears springing up from the suggestion. Subconsciously I know I’m just making things worse. I’m too distraught to think properly. Suddenly Diego steps around the two girls, marching right up to me. I reflexively recoil, but he grabs my shoulders.

“Bro. Look at me.” He leans down to make firm eye contact as he turns me to face him, fingers digging into my arms. “We’re gonna find her. Okay?”

I waver on the spot, and he pulls me into a tight hug. At first I’m still incredibly tense. But as I try to catch my breath and the despair seeps back in to replace the anger, I end up letting my head hang, leaning it against his chest. For a moment it’s like I’m seven years old again, crying and being held by my best friend on the school playground after I’d just found out my family dog died. No matter how many years have passed, Diego’s still the same supportive guy.

And the embrace is helping me come back to my senses. Because unlike when I was seven, I’m not surrounded by the other kids from the military base, sniggering and pointing as they tossed out homophobic slurs. Instead I’m with people who care about me. And they care about Evie too. I’m still not completely convinced of Camila’s innocence, but I definitely shouldn’t be lashing out at my friends. I need to pull myself together.

I look up at Diego and give him a grateful nod when he lets go of me. I take one long, shuddering breath in as Moira steps forward too.

“Could she have gotten outside?” she suggests quietly.

I manage to make my tone calmer this time. “I’ve thought about that… God, I hope not, but I guess anything’s possible at this point. But why? And how? All of the doors are locked shut. The only open window is the broken one in Camila’s room. And even if she wanted to, Evie would have had no way to get up to that windowsill.”

Diego’s eyes sweep the room. “Show us exactly where she was when you left.”

With a sigh I walk over to the couch by the wall and point. “Here. Right here. She was sitting on the armrest.”

From my new vantage point, I notice Camila reacting subtly. She had stepped off to the side in brooding silence when the other three showed up, hugging her arms around herself as she stared at the floor. But she looks up towards me now, suddenly frowning and growing a shade paler.

“Wait,” she says softly. “That’s the couch you guys were at? By… by that window?”

“Yeah,” I respond, keeping my eyes fixed now as I try to get a read on her. “But again, these windows are shut…”

“Actually… um.” Camila stutters. She’s now locking eyes with Star, who has also gone wide-eyed in sudden realization. “About that…”

Chapter 75
Evie

“Oof–”

The wind is knocked out of me as something punches me hard in the abdomen. I cough and gasp for air. I’m sure that rib is damaged, possibly even broken. But by some miracle I’m alive.

The impact has knocked me silly, and it’s only when I realize that I’m slipping off of whatever I’ve landed on that I scramble to grab hold. I hoist myself up onto a sturdier platform than the leaf I was just clinging to - this one is made of rough wood. It’s so dark that I can’t make sense of where I am, but I use my hands to feel my way. One side of the horizontal pillar I’m on is getting narrower, and the other side is getting wider. I make my way to the wider side, hurrying on my hands and knees as I’m desperate to find a stable spot.

Before I realize it, I crash into a wall head first. I curse with the pain, seeing stars for a second. But the wind doesn’t feel quite as vicious in this particular spot, the wall is protecting me for now. I take a dizzied look around myself, trying to make sense of where I ended up as my eyes adjust to the darkness.

There’s the cabin. It’s lit up on the inside so the sight of it is clear as day. It’s so far away… Almost half a mile to me. I must have gone for a ride on that leaf as if it was a runaway paraglider. Which means I’m in the forest? Yes, I… I’m on a tree branch… I’m… I’m hundreds of feet up… in a fucking tree.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod,” I whisper to myself. I’m so close to hyperventilating. I cling to the branch I’m perched on, pressing myself against the tree trunk. One wrong move and I really might plummet to my doom this time. “I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m so dead…”

The horrid gales change direction, reaching me now. I hunker down, holding tightly to the branch. It’s swaying, as are so many other branches around me. It’s a nightmare of movement all around as the trees are buffeted by the wind storm.

I squeeze my eyes shut, burying my face in my arms as I wait this out. God, it’s so cold. I don’t have my coat, I’m not even wearing shoes. And it’s loud. There’s the creaking of wood, the occasional snap of a branch that echoes like thunder, making me feel like I might get crushed at any second. Not to mention the terrifying knowledge that the ground is impossibly far away, waiting for me to meet it the second I slip.

This is hell. I’m in hell.

Think, I tell myself in the darkness behind my eyelids. How do I survive this? What can I possibly do?

I should count myself lucky that I was carried somewhere instead of falling straight down. I’m not where I want to be, but at least I’m not a mangled corpse on the ground. At least, not yet. I just… have to… make my way back. I have to climb down this tree. And walk back to the cabin. That’s the only choice, right? I can’t expect that my friends are going to find me here. I’m too small and too far away. I have to go back to them.

The wind dies down again and I peek over the edge of my arm, trying to get a sense of just how high up I am. It’s too dark and crowded with foliage to make out the ground. Not a good sign. But if I look out to the cabin, try to figure out how high I am in comparison to it… I’m level with a spot that’s somewhere between a first story and second story window. That’s over ten feet. Which to me is closer to 250 feet, straight down. I might as well be trying to climb down a clock tower without a harness. It feels impossible.

Carefully I try to form any kind of path down this cliff in my mind. Can I use the gnarled texture of the tree trunk for handholds? There’s another branch below me, just six or seven feet away at my scale. Let’s just… start there.

I shift over, pressing myself against the wall of the tree trunk, and tentatively stretch one leg out. My toes curl into the rough bark of the tree and, after several seconds of having to convince myself to move, I slide off the branch to begin the descent. My arms are already shaking from the cold and from the adrenaline. I cry out the second all of my weight is off the branch - the pain in my ribs from my crash landing is sharp and insistent. Especially when I’m halfway down to the next branch and I almost fall from another errant gust. I have to stop and hang on desperately and I very nearly lose my grip.

I’m whimpering by the time I make it. I’ve only traversed a few inches and I’m in agony. It’s so hard to see in the darkness or to move in the wind. There’s just no way. I’m not going to make it.

I spend several minutes looking down, trying to solve this impossible conundrum. Could I construct some kind of climbing gear from… something? Or at least make myself a parachute out of leaves? Or find a way to connect individual branches and form a path that way? It all feels so ridiculous. I’m completely losing hope.

Finally I decide to look upwards instead. It doesn’t seem like a productive thing to do, but I just have to look at something else for a second. And that’s when I see it. Off to the side, about thirty feet above me, I notice a small cave in the wood. A tree hollow.

Maybe there is another choice. Reach shelter. Wait out the storm. If I can get through the night, survive until morning when things are forecasted to be much calmer… Maybe in the light of day I’ll be able to find my way down and have a better chance of not getting knocked off.

Of course, that means I would have to climb even higher first. But as difficult as that seems, climbing up the shorter distance seems like the smarter thing to do. The only thing to do. I just have to keep moving. I can’t overthink things right now, my aching muscles have a time limit.

The journey takes me over half an hour. I almost lose my grip over a dozen times. My abdomen is screaming at me every time I hoist myself up and up along the tree trunk. My arms and legs are getting all scratched up, my hands and feet are going numb from the cold. I’m about two thirds of the way up when I break down into panicked cries, exhausted and completely convinced that there’s no way I’m going to reach my destination. But after an uncontrollable yet completely useless pity party, I eventually press on. And somehow, despite everything working against me… I make it. I reach the hollow and collapse into it. I’m a complete mess, trembling and weeping, but I’m still alive.

Oh thank god - whatever squirrel last used this spot as a nest has left behind clumps of fur. It’s old and there’s not much left, but I immediately burrow into it, covering myself in leaves and pine needles and fuzz. It helps, a little bit. But… it’s only a very little bit. The wind is still thrashing outside, and the temperature slowly continues to drop.

Several minutes later, I’m shivering more than ever. And I realize something dire. This isn’t sustainable. I’m losing more heat than I’m producing. Even if I don’t fall to my death tonight, I may instead get claimed by hypothermia. I have to do something about it.

I try to think about my long-ago college classes, racking my brain for any useful knowledge about heat transfer. I was supposed to take an entire heat transfer class at some point, too bad I never got there… The only thing that comes to mind is insulation. I need to think like a squirrel. And I need to make myself a better nest.

Well, if there’s one thing I can find close by it’s leaves. I hate the idea of venturing back out onto the tree branches, but I simply don’t have a choice. I’m convinced that I won’t be lasting the night otherwise.

I peer out of the hollow, and I can actually see a bit better now that I’ve gotten so used to the dark. It’s slightly brighter out here due to the lights coming from inside the cabin. I wait for a moment where the winds aren’t so tempestuous, and then I dart out. I try to move quickly but not recklessly. There are enough leaves and fallen pine needles in my immediate vicinity that I make swift progress, as tiring as it is to hoist what feels like oversized pool toys. At least it’s easier to move along the horizontal perch than it was to climb up the tree trunk. Over time I need to start venturing slightly further along the branch, each trip providing less and less success.

Out of nowhere I’m startled by a sudden light. I freeze in place like a rabbit, staring towards the cabin. The front porch light just turned on. And someone’s rushing out. First he’s peering his head out, and I can’t make out what he’s saying but his mouth is moving. Then he’s stepping outside, head whipping around as he scans the ground. Aiden’s looking for me. He must have realized that I’m out here!

Logic flies out the window. I start yelling at the top of my lungs, waving my hands, grabbing a nearby branch and shaking it - anything to get his attention. At first I’m just calling Aiden’s name, but as he ventures further onto the porch and more people start trickling out, I’m shouting the rest of their names for good measure.

“Behind you!” I cry, “Look up! Please, just look HERE!”

It’s useless. It’s so completely useless.

“FUUUUUCK!” I scream into the night, falling to my knees as despair rolls over me. The universe is just mocking me now. Fuck you, world. Fuck. You.

My throat is searing with pain at this point, but despite using everything in my power to make them notice me, all I’m doing is wearing myself out. I can barely make out the sound of their voices over the wind, they’re just too far away. Maybe I’d have a chance if they get closer, but… why on earth would they do that? Why would they assume that I’m as far as the tree line? In fact - yeah, Aiden’s making his way along the exterior wall of the cabin, still scanning the ground but hurrying directly towards the space under the loft. Of course he is. If they figured out that I fell out of the window, the assumption would be that I’m near said window. If only I’d gotten a better grip on that vine instead of soaring off into the woods…

I watch them for much longer than I should as I crouch down in the entrance of my meager shelter. They’re right there. They’re searching so desperately, it feels like they have to find me eventually. Star’s on her hands and knees, sifting through the grass and bushes on the ground. Diego’s giving Aiden a boost, hoisting him up to stand on his shoulders and get a closer look at the wall that’s near the window. I notice Moira’s silhouette is in the window itself - I’m guessing that’s where they all started looking before some of them branched off to go outdoors. I feel nervous for her, seeing how far she’s leaning out to be able to reach some of the vines. Camila shows up to join the rest on the ground, wearing warmer clothes and carrying several other coats and hats for the others to bundle up.

But they’re still too far. Even if they search all night, the odds that they’ll find me are so slim. It’s agonizing, but… I eventually realize that I have to stick to my original plan. With a clear view of my panicked friends to keep me company, I force myself to continue harvesting leaves.

Soon enough I’m starting to run out of material that’s in the vicinity. I could risk climbing to a different branch to get more, but it feels so dangerous - I’ve already come close to toppling off of this one several times. And at this point the hollow is mostly full anyway. Honestly, it’s this damn wind that’s the problem. Already a few leaves have escaped my little den, snatched right out of my hands by a vicious gust of air. I’m starting to worry that this shelter isn’t quite as dependable as I’d hoped.

I do what I think is my last run, scrounging up whatever remaining pine needles have gotten caught towards the end of the branch. But on my way back, something well above my head catches my eye. Even though I’m currently in what I think is an oak tree based on the shape of the leaves, there’s also a pine tree looming nearby like a cliff overhang, which is where all the pine needles must have come from. At some point it must have dropped a sizeable pinecone too, which is now perched precariously on a thin branch about fifteen feet up. When I scramble back into the hollow, my mind is very preoccupied. Because you know what might provide extra insulation while also protecting my tree cave from raging winds? A door.

I sit there for a while, trying to think about how I might possibly acquire the pinecone. I just wish I had better tools up here. If I at least had some kind of rope…

I look over the random assortment of junk that I’ve gathered into my cave. I briefly consider tying pine needles together, but when I try I’m unable to get the knots tight enough. It’s even worse with leaf stems. Maybe I could take some of these bits of broken twigs and acorns and try to just throw them at the pinecone to knock it down?

But then I’m looking at myself. Even in the dim light I can tell that the tips of my fingers and toes are bright pink from how cold I am. I don’t have a hat or gloves or a scarf, just some loose pants and a lightweight sweater that I’d crocheted. But that’s when I get a thought. I hate this idea, I’m not sure that it’s worth it but… I do have a form of rope at my disposal. I could start unraveling my sweater.

As I’m debating whether it’s worth making myself colder to get access to the thread, the universe taunts me again by sending a particularly nasty gust my way. It makes a branch snap somewhere nearby, and it sucks out a few leaves that are too close to the entrance. Things aren’t going to get any better - I need to act. I can bundle squirrel fur back around my torso later. It’s time to reveal some midriff.

I find the knotted end of the fine yarn at the hem of my top, and for a moment I fumble at it with numb fingers, until I give up and use my teeth. Eventually I rip into it, and from there I’m tugging at the thread, and it comes away easily, erasing hours of crochet work in seconds. I wind my arms around and around my abdomen, the garment becoming shorter and shorter. As soon as a sliver of skin is revealed I’m starting to regret this as I feel more precious heat escaping my body. But I push through, gauging how long my rope is and continuing to lengthen it until my sweater only reaches my ribs. I use my teeth again to saw off the string and try to retain whatever garment is left by tying off the end.

I loop my rope up into my hands as I think through the next step. I could try to form a lasso? Not sure how good I’d be at attempting fancy ropework in this windstorm, though. So ultimately I decide to tie the end of the thread to a broken piece of twig, figuring it would be easier to throw.

Shivering more than ever, I crawl back out into the open, face aimed high as I scuttle along the branch. Pinecone’s still there. I try to calculate in my head the best angle to approach this from and position myself accordingly. I have to hunker down for a while, grabbing onto a shoot that’s coming off of the main branch, while I hold out for the right moment to strike.

As I wait, laying almost flat against my swaying platform, I look over to my friends. All of them are searching low to the ground now, meticulously parsing through grass and foliage with the flashlights from their phones. They’re dramatically expanding the radius of their investigation, as I’m sure they’re figuring I could have been knocked farther by the wind, but it’s still nowhere remotely close to where I am, and none of them are looking upwards. Still, they’re putting so much effort into finding me. I have to do the same.

Between flurries of wind I make my attempts. Like a shot putter, I pull back my arm near my head and then launch my projectile as hard as I can. The first dozen attempts miss completely. And then finally the broken twig I’m throwing bounces off the top of the pinecone and tumbles to the other side. I yank on it and let out a victorious shout as the thread gets tangled in the pinecone’s scales.

And then I almost die.

I’m such an idiot, I should have just tied down the other end of the rope, to make sure I didn’t drop it if nothing else. But instead what happens is that the second I try to pull the pinecone towards me, I lose my balance on the unstable branch. My stomach lurches as I fall forward, my rope slipping between my fingers for a second before I cling to it in a panic. And I’m dangling in the open air now, below the branch I was just standing on, only being held by a pinecone that’s teetering on its perch, dangerously high above me.

“Fuck… this… shit…” I gasp, and I’m already looking around myself for any kind of solution. At first I try to scramble back up the rope, but I’m slipping, my fingers aren’t strong enough. I’m going to fall off before I get up. The only reason I haven’t fallen quite yet despite the potential injury in my abdomen is sheer adrenaline and many months of practice at being this size. I pause and try to think…. Think… Come on…

The unrelenting winds attack me with a vengeance. I’m whipped so hard to the side that it feels like my arms will get ripped out of their sockets, and I almost crash into the trunk of the tree.

Wait, I think as I swing back the other way, curled up in a ball like a pill bug. Actually… that can work. There’s no way I can scale the length of this rope right now. But maybe if I used momentum…

Moving quickly, I first carefully use my legs to thread the leftover rope that’s dangling between them, and I hook it around one of my thighs. I take a chance by sitting back on the rope a little bit as I raise my ankle to lift the slackened thread up. Moving as quickly as possible, I hold on tight with one hand while I use the other one to snatch at the loose end of the rope, and then I’m immediately gripping the main line with both hands again, gasping with fear. I clumsily use my teeth and my fingertips to make a simple knot, and I now have a loop to sit on instead of just depending on my arms as I dangle. This is still incredibly precarious - I’m gripping both ropes together for dear life, not daring to rely on my shoddy knot alone.

I begin to swing. I don’t even think about how this might knock the pinecone off, it’s a risk I have to take. It’s actually not that difficult to gain momentum, the goddamn wind is seeing to that. The tricky part is aiming. I lurch towards the trunk without quite reaching, once… twice… And then I’m pushed towards it with so much speed that I’m certain the impact will ruin me – at the last second I twist and loosen my grip instinctively and I sail upwards, past the home branch–

And straight through the entrance of the tree hollow. I crash and roll, the impact mollified by the nest that I’ve built. I’m in so much pain. But I’m incredibly lucky to have made it.

I’m still holding the end of my thread, and there’s no way I’m giving up on that pinecone after all that. I do what I should have done from the start and stay safely inside my tree cave, bracing my feet against the edge of the entrance and pulling with all my might - which isn’t saying much at this point. The pinecone is eventually dislodged from its perch and drops down in front of me, onto the branch, and thankfully it’s light enough that I can drag it the rest of the way without too much issue.

I glance one last time at my friend group, completely ignorant of what I just went through. I stare at Aiden’s profile as he gets to his feet to look up ahead of him, looking crestfallen and desperate. Tears well up in my eyes, and then I yank onto the pinecone to wedge it inside the entryway as much as possible.

I use leaves to stuff the empty spaces around my new door, and with this added layer of insulation it’s quieter now. It’s darker, too. I feel around blindly as I push myself under the remaining layers of leaves, bundling up my rope against my stomach in a meager attempt to patch up my sweater, and burrowing into the squirrel fur as much as I can.

My muscles give out. Everything hurts. I can feel my scar on the back of my calf throbbing from the bitter chill. I’m still so cold. Am I going to survive the night?

I squeeze my eyes shut and reach for my old mantra. Don’t give up. Fight back. Work harder.

I wince at the sharp pain in my ribs. They feel worse than ever after my most recent fall. Will I even be able to climb down come morning if they’re broken?

Don’t give up… Fight back… Work harder…

I start wrapping my extra thread around my hands and feet to protect the extremities that have gone completely numb. It feels pointless.

Don’t give up… Don’t…

I just want to see him. I just want him to hold me again. Please.

Don’t…

I feel like what I would do with the possibilities is so boring I would love to experience what it’s like to be small in a safe setting by exploring my surroundings, and especially just interact with a giant friend. Probably nothing sexual even, just be picked up, carried around, cuddled. A far cry from standard sci fi fare!

Oh man… the idea of NOT being the smallest person in the room is honestly the biggest turn off for me. It makes me soooo incredibly uncomfortable. Part of it is just not wanting to be that center of attention, and there’s the thought too of any of my physical flaws being magnified to someone else. I hate it so much. Even irl I’m pretty short and I like it that way.

Oddly, though, the idea of giantess doesn’t make me nearly as uncomfortable. I’d still much rather be in the presence of a giant man (or preferably being tiny around a normal sized man), but if the woman is the larger one then I just self insert into the role of the tiny person she’s with, even if it’s a tiny man. I wouldn’t mind having some giant lady friends, in a platonic way, that actually sounds really sweet to me

@Olo Poor girl’s just a wee bit overstimulated

@Olo Yeaaaah I’m definitely more of a borrower

@Olo I guess I just need to call you over whenever I’m wanting to feel secure Barring an actual giant to help me out I gotta do my best with my little leaf blanket…

@Olo As much as we’re all into this fantasy, I think we can agree that if it actually happened we’d all be a little freaked out (And did I decide to write in a super convenient and discreet way for her to go the bathroom because I didn’t want to deal with that challenge? Yes. Yes I did lol.)

@rand Aw thanks! I’ll need to finish it first lol but I’m sure I’ll get there. If you’re inspired and interested I encourage you to take a stab at writing something out yourself