Best posts made by littlest-lily

@foreverlurk WOW what an incredibly motivating compliment! I thankfully have a very active imagination that is very dedicated to this stuff so I’m not stopping anytime soon

@foreverlurk Uh oh! Guess it’s time for me to go have an existential crisis lol

@Olo “You’ll understand one day, we’re meant to be!”

Chapter 50
Aiden

Fuck me. Can today get any worse?

I won’t lie, I’m really upset when I leave the apartment. Furious, even. I’m concerned about Evie, yes, of course I am, but good god am I frustrated with her too. How the hell are we going to make this work if she just refuses to communicate… at all? I hadn’t realized how bad it could get.

It doesn’t help that I’m also feeling frustrated with Diego right now. Okay, so the designated driver’s car broke down while they were out downtown. Yes, it’s annoying, but I still don’t understand why he can’t just call an Uber. He’d gone on about how there were several more bars he wanted to hit and he didn’t want to have to wait around for a ride every time, blablabla. But did he have to be so insistent after I told him “no” multiple times? Just because it’s his birthday doesn’t give him the right to be so selfish.

He heralds me like a hero, though, when I finally make it to whatever bar the group got stranded at. I could tell by his voice over the phone, but he’s already well on his way to getting trashed. The stifling bear hug he gives me is little comfort when I know I’ll be the one sober friend in the group for the next couple of hours, all while I’m very preoccupied with the situation waiting for me back at home.

As the night drags on, Diego’s in such a good mood and is being so affectionate with me and the other guys that I eventually feel guilty for acting sour. Yeah, I didn’t want to come here, but also the issues I’m having with Evie aren’t his fault. Ultimately I try to force a smile onto my face, as fake as it feels.

But this eventually wears on me. It’s been three hours and midnight has come and gone when I can’t take it anymore - I pretend to need to go to the bathroom to take a breather. I sit in the cramped but thankfully clean toilet stall and put my head in my hands. I try and fail to take deep breaths.

What do I do when I eventually get home? I’m assuming Evie is asleep by now. Not that it matters, I’ll probably wake her up when I get back whether I mean to or not. Do I try talking to her again? What do I even say? How do I get her to talk to me?

I stew in frustration for minutes on end. I’ve tried my utmost the entire time she’s lived with me to be so careful and considerate and patient. Haven’t I proven that I won’t judge her no matter what she has to say? Haven’t I shown that she can trust me?

Is… Was any of it even… real? Did she actually fall for me the way I fell for her? Or was that fake too, just another way of placating me and making sure she still has a roof over her head? No, I can’t… Surely it wasn’t all lies. That’s not fair to completely dismiss our connection like that, and it’s too heartbreaking to think about. But there’s clearly complicating factors. And I still have no idea why she wants to avoid getting outside help.

That last thought makes me pause. Come to think of it, I got confirmation today, didn’t I? She’s definitely scared of the police. I don’t know why, but… That sounds kinda major, doesn’t it? She’s afraid of the law. Perhaps that should be a red flag, but I can’t possibly imagine her being a dangerous criminal. Maybe she did something stupid when she was younger, or she was at the wrong place at the wrong time. But whatever happened that led to her feeling the way she does must have been a pretty big deal. Maybe even something really traumatic.

I drop my hands from my face, blinking as I stare down at my shoes. All night I’ve been resenting Evie for not opening up to me. When maybe what I should be focusing on right now is why she’s so tightly shut. I’ve been grappling with the fear that she sees me as nothing but a menace, but… it’s not like she opened up to Moira about this either. And it sounded like she wasn’t close with anyone else before us, even back before she lived in a world of giants. Maybe I’ve been taking things so personally when in reality, it’s got nothing to do with me. She might be dealing with some kind of trauma that’s bigger than any of us.

And I got angry at her for it.

“Shit,” I curse under my breath. I picture her, sitting there on the table, looking… terrified. Maybe not of me, deep down. But I probably wasn’t helping. By the end I was just demanding answers despite her clearly having some sort of breakdown. Fuck. Me.

I want to go home right this second, apologize, tell her she doesn’t owe me anything. I have to go back and try to fix this.

But of course, things aren’t quite so simple. I’m here now. At least the night seems to be winding down, and thankfully everyone else is finally alright with using rideshares to get back home. At this point Diego’s completely wasted though, and I want to make sure he gets home okay. So I drive him to his house and help support him as we walk up to the door. I watch him fumble for the keys in his pocket.

“Uh oh,” he says after checking the same pockets for the fourth time. “Fuuuuck… My keys’re gone. Must’ve dropped 'em…”

“Wonderful,” I groan, “Isn’t Star home? I know it’s late, but can we give her a call to let us in?”

“Nah man… This was s’posed to be a night with the guuyyys. She’s out 'f town, at her parennts…”

I check his pockets myself before finally admitting defeat. With a heavy sigh I think through my options. The timing is awful, but in the end my exhausted mind can’t think of any other solution but to offer to let him stay at my place.

As we drive back to the apartment and it nears two in the morning, I’m deep in thought while Diego nods off in the passenger’s seat. He’s clearly forgetting why he’s not in his own house now and giggling like an idiot about the “amazing” night he’s had. Okay. Plan is that I get him inside, to my room. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight, make sure to stay at Evie’s side and keep her hidden. I’ll need to talk to her… But first I need to get my larger friend settled in and out of the way.

Thirty seconds. I had left him alone in the living room for less than thirty damn seconds. I’d hurriedly gotten my own bed ready for him and grabbed a blanket and pillow for myself. He seemed so out of it that I figured he wouldn’t budge - I was expecting to find him passed out on the floor. But just as I turn to head out of my room, I know immediately something’s wrong. Diego’s not where I left him. And then I hear a very faint but unmistakable scream.

I’m rushing now, hurrying into the living room, just in time to see my drunken friend slumped over the desk and picking something up off of it. Heart in my throat, I almost panic and start yelling at him. But that might create a worse problem, so silently I toss down the blanket and pillow onto the couch as I run over to Diego, and I grab his arm. I hover an open hand just under his fist and squeeze his wrist, hard.

“Let go,” I command firmly.

“Dude, wh-”

“Now.”

With one last jab of my thumb into his arm he loosens his grasp, and I can feel the warm little weight of Evie’s body tumbling into my palm. My heart leaps and I close my fingers around her. She grips me back harder than she ever has.

I glare at Diego as I take a couple of steps back. “Change of plans. You sleep out here. Since apparently you can move around just fine. And stop messing with my stuff.”

He’s looking at me dumbfounded, but I just turn and march back into my bedroom. I shut the door and lock it behind me.

“Evie, I’m so sorry,” I whisper urgently, taking the couple of quick steps to my bed and kneeling beside it on the carpet.

I settle my hand onto the mattress and let her slide onto the bed sheets. There’s more light here than there was in the living room since I’d left my table lamp on, so I can see how pale and shaky she is. She looks completely disheveled and is gasping for air, shuffling backwards on the bed and looking around frantically. Right, I don’t ever bring her in here, of course she’s disoriented.

“You’re safe, the door’s locked,” I soothe before asking intently, “Are you okay? How’s your leg, did he hurt you?”

Her breath is still coming in fast and shallow and she’s keeping a fearful eye on her surroundings, but she manages a small nod. “N-no, I’m okay, he didn’t really t-touch it. It’s fine. I’m f-fine… I…”

No more words come out. But not because she’s steadying herself. In fact her gasping is getting worse. Her body’s shaking, her panic boiling over. She is anything but fine.

Evie starts hyperventilating, curling in on herself as she hugs her arms, and then she drops her head down to the mattress. She goes from panting to sobbing to screaming and back again. She’s writhing, rocking back and forth, hitting her head against the thankfully soft ground. I’ve never seen her come completely undone like this. I watch in wide-eyed fear for a few moments, too stunned to move. It’s been too much for her today, and the frightening encounter she just had was enough to push her over the edge. Whatever has built up inside of her is finally all coming out at once, explosively, and she’s getting caught in the blast.

I reach my hand back up, cup it around her, gently touch her shoulder with a finger. She flinches a little but otherwise doesn’t react, just continues to whimper and cry and dry heave as she curls in on herself.

“Deep breaths, sweet girl,” I whisper, leaning down to kiss her upper back. I hope I’m not making things worse, but it’s almost like she can’t tell I’m there.

The panic attack lasts almost thirty minutes, enough time for me to seriously worry. But whether it’s due to exhaustion or getting it out of her system, her cries start faltering. She begins to respond to my attempts to help calm her down. Finally, even though she’s still curled in on herself, I see her reach one tiny hand out, tentatively searching the air. Immediately I offer her my pinkie and she grabs it, pulls it in, hugs it against her.

With my other hand I carefully stroke her back, softly remind her that she’s safe, just as I’ve done again and again for the last half hour. And this time she finally lifts her head. She’s a mess and she looks absolutely exhausted. But she’s also looking lucid again.

"I-I have to talk to you,” she stutters with a hoarse voice.

“Whatever you need,” I say, and I bring up a tissue that I’d found in the midst of the meltdown, tenderly dabbing it against her cheek before offering it to her. “Just don’t worry about me right now, okay?”

Evie takes the paper with the saddest, weakest look of gratitude I’ve ever seen. She wipes her face off, blows her nose, takes a deep breath. “No, this is just as much for myself. I should’ve told you a long time ago… Bear with me, let me figure out where to start.”

Since it looks like she’s more stable, I decide it might be best to give her some room. I hesitantly pull my hands away, she doesn’t protest, and I settle into a cross-legged seat in front of the bed. The tiny woman stares at the bedsheets for a few seconds, her breathing still shaky, but she’s looking more and more determined as she gathers her resolve. One more deep, tremulous breath. And then an equally tremulous sentence.

“Growing up… my name was Evelyn Frost.”

Uhh. Definitely didn’t realize that she was about to share a different… name. In the couple of seconds of silence that follows, I steel myself for the telling tale she’s about to share.

“Frost was my mom’s maiden name. After my dad passed away when I was four, she took it up again and used it for me too, even though it didn’t match what was on my birth certificate… Anyway, that’s not important. My mom was not a good person. Even before she was a single mom I don’t think she wanted to be a mother at all. And then after my dad died she started doing hard drugs, which… didn’t help.

"Most of the time she acted like I wasn’t there. Any time she did say something to me, it was usually because she was angry about something. She didn’t like me making friends with hardly anyone. She hit me, a lot. Sometimes she’d lock me in the basement for days if she was sick of seeing me.”

I listen quietly. In the back of my mind, I hear Evie’s voice echo, “I hate being underground.” I had no idea the inciting reason for that was straight up child abuse.

“The older I got the more… useful I became to her, I guess. She had me work to help pay rent, do chores, that kind of thing. For the most part I was still terrified of her, but I started standing up for myself too, just a little bit. Not enough to make that much of a difference, and sometimes she doubled down on the punishments. But we were at least able to speak to each other more and more without it devolving into constant one-way fights.”

She glances up at me, a little apprehensive, as if wondering how I’m taking all of this information. I just give her a little nod to let her know I’m listening intently. Then she swallows and clutches her bit of tissue paper tightly as she switches gears.

“I was sixteen when I met Brock. I was waitressing at this old diner at the time, and I was used to guys being sleazy sometimes, but this one was different. He was so kind. So attentive to me. We ended up talking that whole evening as he kept ordering drinks and hardly touching them. By the end of the night I was completely smitten. By the end of the week we were a couple.

“He made me really happy. He would drive me places, he showered me with compliments and gifts, and he was always there for me when things got hard at home. He was eight years older than me so I saw him as so smart and wise… and he was a stand-up citizen so my mom actually approved of him, finally, for once. We’d only been dating for three months when the two of us had already decided I’d move in with him once I turned eighteen. For the next year and a half, I was over the moon.

“On my eighteenth birthday my mom died. She actually got me a cake that year, which was unlike her… I still remember the fancy red cake stand she put it on… Her decision to celebrate didn’t stop her from taking a couple of hits that morning though. It was just me and her when I tried to bring up the subject of me moving out, and it didn’t go well. It turned into a horrible fight, she was screaming at me, she was so furious that I would abandon her like that. I can still picture the cake on the floor… I was kneeling next to it, I picked up the half-broken cake stand… Next thing I knew she was on top of me, and she tripped or something, she fell on me and my head was knocked back against the counter and I blacked out…”

Like a flash in my mind, I suddenly think of what Evie had said, that night we played Clue and I accidentally hit her in the head. I was worried I’d given her a concussion and her response was “I’ve had way worse before.” I never even questioned that.

“She must have passed out too,” Evie continues, “But it’s only when I woke up later that I realized she had fallen on the broken ceramic I was holding and had… had bled out… But it wasn’t intentional! I swear to you, it wasn’t on purpose. Even… even if she deserved it. I didn’t kill her!”

“I believe you,” I assure her gently.

Her eyes meet mine and she nods gratefully. “But it looked bad. Really bad. I called Brock in a panic and he came over right away. He helped cover for me so that I didn’t really have to deal with the police, things were hard enough as is. I did move in with him. I was horrified by what had happened, but… I was also finally free to live my life the way I wanted. And I wanted to be with him more than anything else. I was completely devoted.”

Her tone drops as a shadow passes over her expression. "I didn’t see the signs then. I thought Brock just loved me so much. He didn’t want me to have to worry about working and insisted I should just quit my job, stay at home and relax for a while. Every couple of weeks he bought me a new outfit, even though I was never that much into fashion. The compliments he showered me with started becoming… a little much. And he wasn’t quite as supportive anymore when I was struggling - anytime I’d complain or get sad about something he just seemed so annoyed by it. He didn’t like it whenever I tried to make new friends, he thought I was spending too much time with other people. He started limiting how much food I could have. He had certain… expectations in bed. And over time he started getting upset with me over the smallest things…

"I was still pretty young and naive and I made a lot of excuses for him, but eventually even I could tell things were toxic. But anytime I tried to talk to him about it, it didn’t go well. It got physical sometimes. Every time he hit me he was so apologetic, he’d buy me another damn dress and tell me how much he loved me… but I was seeing through him at this point.

“After living together for over two years, I wanted out. He knew I wanted out. One day he took me out into the woods. He confronted me about how I felt, but when I admitted I wanted to break up he went ballistic. He had a gun, h-he threatened to kill himself. The way things had gotten, I honestly wouldn’t have put it past him to kill me first… I’d never been so scared in my life… The next day while he was at work, I snuck out. I ran away, just packed the few things I could carry and took the first bus out of town.”

Recounting this is clearly painful for her and she falls into silence for a moment, breathing hard. I stare at her for a few seconds, reeling from the intensity of it all.

“Holy shit, Evie,” I whisper.

She’s determined to keep going. "I was homeless for a little while. Very slowly I found jobs and started building myself back up… But Brock never stopped looking for me. Somehow he would always figure out where I went. One time he showed up where I worked, I just snuck out the back and skipped town again. Another time he’d figured out who one of my new friends was and began harassing her to find out where I was staying, so I left. One day I was leaving for work and recognized his car sitting in the parking lot. I immediately grabbed my stuff and ran away on the spot.

“It was a hard four years on my own. Eventually I decided it might be worth it to go back to school. If I could get a college degree, maybe I could get a better job, move farther away, find a place to live with better security. I applied for a million scholarships and managed to get enough that I thought I could pull it off. That’s when I changed my name. I used my dad’s last name of Ondine, which is what my legal name is anyway, and just wrote down one of my nicknames as if it was my official one. I hoped between that and the fact that I was moving several states over it might make it harder for Brock to track me down. And so far so good, he hasn’t found me. Although, there are probably a few extra reasons for that…”

She motions down at her small stature. It’s hard to believe that she’s been through enough hardship that it rivals the fact that she was shrunken into this state. I’d gotten the sense she had some darker parts of her life she didn’t want to share, things that might have explained the constant glossing over her own needs or why she hadn’t been able to maintain friendships, but I wasn’t expecting it to be this bad. And Evie’s not quite finished yet.

“I want to try and explain something…” she says, staring intently into my eyes. "A lot happened during my solo life. A year into it, after I’d stayed a couple of months in the same place… I met a guy. I was so scared of dating again, but he was such a good friend and I gave it a shot. It was great, he helped me realize what a real, loving relationship could actually be like. I owe him a lot. But after dating for a few months I finally told him about Brock. And it… it really freaked him out. H-he didn’t say it was the reason, but he broke up with me the next day. Not that it would have mattered because it wasn’t much longer before I, um… had to move again.

"The year after that, I met someone who I just saw as a casual friend, but he wanted more. He was so angry when I turned him down. Somehow he found out I had a stalker. He tried to blackmail me with it, he’d threaten me every time I saw him at work. I didn’t even wait until Brock showed up again. Within a few weeks I left.

“The year after that, I had my first official roommate since the breakup. It was hard to find hostels or single apartments in the area I was in, and I figured it was time I try living with someone again. She was nice, I guess. But again… I made a mistake and ended up telling her about my ex. She was scared that he might show up at our place and ended up kicking me out.”

I’m putting it all together, everything’s starting to make some sense. No wonder she was so hesitant to talk to me about this.

She looks too tired to cry but weak sobs are racking her body anyway. “I’m sorry, Aiden, y-you’ve never given me any reason t-to doubt you, but every time I opened up to someone about this shit it always blew up in my face. I d-didn’t want to lose you too. But… but I shouldn’t have just lumped y-you in with–”

“It’s okay,” I breathe, curling my hand behind her, “It’s alright, I get it now. Thank you so much for telling me. I’m sorry you’ve had such a weight on your shoulders all this time, without any support.”

Right then, out of nowhere, she smiles. Just a fleeting moment of pure relief and appreciation after a lifetime of struggling alone. It’s just for a second before it crumbles into exhaustion again. I half smile back and then lean in, I want to make sure she knows…

“I’m not going anywhere.” I say, kissing her forehead, and I hover there, staying close. “I’m still processing some of that, but… I don’t care what happened in the past. I want to embrace everything about you, just as you are. Okay?”

More weak sobs. “I should’ve known you would,” she whimpers. She rests her head against my chin, letting out whatever tears she has left. And then she’s kissing me, planting little pecks all along my skin, and it fills me with so much emotion that I almost start crying with her. We embrace for a long time, with her resting in the catharsis while I take the time to really absorb everything she just told me.

“I just have one question, if you don’t mind me asking,” I finally say, pulling my face away and sitting back on my heels. “I’m still not sure why you’re so against the police? I think the situation with your mom could be proven to be an accident, or at least self defense, assuming it ever came up again. And they might actually be able to help with a stalker. I’m sure that’s easier said than done, but…”

Evie slowly shakes her head, gaze trailing to the floor. “Maybe under normal circumstances I would have gotten the courage to go to the cops. But that’s just the problem…” She looks up at me with a defeated smile. “Brock is a cop.”

@Olo Oh, sorry to Evie, but Pepper’s totally got her beat on that front

My partner has definitely done the whole taking a picture of me from his much taller POV thing and it is very silly

I don’t know if this quite fits the prompt but I wanted to pass it along! https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8eBHpVQ/

@tiny-ivy Yeah I definitely interpreted this as more of a curse, I suppose created by some sort of chaotic god who is amused by the mental gymnastics people do to convince themselves they’re not queer. I have to say, I was initially nervous checking this out since I’m not into the violent stuff, but I found this super engaging, great job!

@protect-tinies @Olo You guys, your pun game is too strong, you gotta stop making my day like this

@Olo Fair enough. At least she still makes requests for a giant

This is super interesting to hear people’s thoughts about. I’ll be completely honest (and I’m not judging anyone who feels differently, these are just my personal preferences!), I’m reeeally not into the ugly giant thing. It’s actually something that has bothered me over the years, particularly in traditional media, is that I feel like male giants tend to be these ugly monsters, and yet giant women tend to be these beautiful goddesses. I just want my hot giant dude too!! lol

But again, zero judgement for those who like the idea of being dominated by a monster. I get the appeal of not having a choice in that matter. And I totally agree that it would be nice to have more stories where the giant can be both ugly and kind.

@Olo I couldn’t help myself, I have to make it just a little tragic sometimes

I love his unamused expression I would also be an annoyingly clingy tiny

@Olo That hasn’t been my experience, but then again… You all look tall from down here

@Olo I mean once you go down to a foot tall you’re going to be dependent on whoever’s taking care of you anyway, so… then you might as well keep going!