Plush (day 3 Of Gt July)

Plush (day 3 of gt July)

Carter loved his teddy bear, just as any other eight year old would love the plush they cuddled to sleep at night. But, after he had brought it to school, a rip had formed at one of the seams.

"Oliver, Bartholomew has a rip!" He whined to his big brother the morning following the incident.

"I told you it was a bad idea for you to bring it to school." Oliver tutted, pouring milk into the younger boys cereal bowl. Carter harrumphed with exaggeration. Oliver set down his breakfast, then sat across from.his little brother. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"Can't you fix it?" Carter asked, fiddling with his spoon in his cereal. "You have all that thread and the pointy thingy." Oliver smiled warmly, trying not to laugh.

"Alright, I promise it'll be all fixed when you come back home." Oliver said, grabbing his little brother's backpack. "Do you want me to walk you to school, or do you want to go with Ray and her mom?" Carter pushed out from the table and scampered to get his backpack.

"I wanna walk with Ray!" He said, excited. "Please." He added, remembering the conversation they had about being polite. Oliver opened the door.

"Okay kid, you have a good day!" He called as Carter rushed to catch up with his friend.

"Bye!" Carter yelled back. "I love you!"

Once Oliver closed the door, he knocked on the wall.

"Miss Goosefoot? Would you mind helping me out?" That was the thing Carter didn't know about the needles and thread. They weren't exactly for human use. Oliver had no idea how to sew.

Soon enough, a small woman in a dark pink dress emerged from the walls, still putting her brown hair up in a bun. Her tail flicked and her long ears perked up as she approached, walking on the countertop of the kitchen.

"What would you like me to help with?" She asked nicely. Oliver offered her a hand to stand on.

"Carter's bear has a rip." He admitted. "I was hoping you had the time to fix it?" Miss Goosefoot nodded.

"I haven't got a groundling in the program at the moment, so you grab that radio and some thread and we'll make a day of it." She winked, stepping onto his hand and sitting down gracefully. Oliver smiled, carrying her to his bedroom and dropping her off next to his alarm clock, which doubled as a radio. Once Miss Goosefoot hit the button on the side, he went off to grab the bear and thread.

When he returned, he sat at his desk right in front of Miss Goosefoot. Once she was settled and found the right position to sew up the bear, which was about five times her height, he pulled out his laptop.

"You wouldn't happen to have any advice for a resume, would you?" He asked, glancing at her.

"Well, I can't exactly write your letter of recommendation, but I do know that you are most likely qualified for whatever you wish to do." She said, threading the needle with ease. "I'm just glad you finally quit that janitorial job. I did miss you, you know. Can't blame an old lady for not staying up until midnight." She joked.

"Yeah, at this point I just want a decent paying job without being on the nightshift. Carter didn't like that much either." He sighed, propping up his head on his hand. During that time, Oliver almost never saw his brother. It was breakfast, dinner, and then he had to leave. Carter hated it, especially because he couldn't fall asleep without someone else in the house.

"Ah, yes, I remember." Miss Goosefoot replied without looking up from her stitching job. She tied the last knot and finished it off cleanly. "I just about revealed myself when he woke up crying that one night." Oliver clicked something on his computer.

"I know, and again I'm sorry you felt like you had to-"

"Oliver. You know I'm perfectly fine with humans. You and Carter don't scare me." She looked at him.

"I-I know that." He paused, closing his computer with a sigh upon realizing he wasn't going to get much job hunting done. "I'm just worried about his reaction to meeting groundlings." He ruffled his hair. "He doesn't know how to be gentle yet, I can't let him hurt anybody and he certainly can't start seeking you out, what if you have a patient and they get spooked because he started calling out for you? I refuse to jeopardize your work." Miss Goosefoot was silent.

"I appreciate all that you do for me and my patients, but maybe it would be good for Carter to learn about all of this?" She asked, not saying exactly what she wanted to, which was: If not now, then when will you let him learn?

"Not today. Probably not tomorrow either. I promise I'll find a good time, and I'll teach him."

When Carter came home, Oliver was waiting for him with Bartholomew in his hands. Carter was happy the bear was fixed.

And Miss Goosefoot was happy that her humans were happy.

Very emotional sizeshifter who doesn’t have full control of their sizeshifting yet: Wow, you never grow or shrink out of control, you must have such good control of your sizeshifting and your emotions!

Non-sizeshifter friend lying about being a sizeshifter: Yep, I sure do! That’s the reason why you’ve never seen me grow or shrink ever!

Broken

The first time Dalton shrinks in front of Bennett. The experience leaves him injured and mistrusting of Bennett, who doesn't quite understand what he's done wrong.

tw: anxiety, uncomfortable touching

character context: Dalton is a size-shifter whose height is affected by his emotions. Bennett frequently gets stuck in time loops and the only way to get the loop to end is for him to survive the day.

word count: 2.1k

-> In Which Everything Goes Wonderfully Wrong masterpost link: Here

-> character introductions and moodboards: Here

Dalton felt an itch begin to spread across his skin. It started on his chest and it felt like his heart was being squeezed. He took in a sharp breath, gaining the attention of Bennett. His eyes snapped over to him.

“You okay?”

The itch was spreading, moving down his arms and his legs. Not now, not now, Dalton thought, his heartbeat spiking. He felt like he couldn’t catch his breath.

Bennett was staring at him with concern, briefly glancing around the library to see if anyone else had noticed his panic. Dalton’s hands were on both sides of his head and he was bent over the table. 

He had to focus. Swallow down the itch. This could not happen right now, not in a crowded place like this. Not in front of Bennett. 

Bennett reached a hand out to him. “Dude, what’s going on? Are you alright?”

The unexpected touch on Dalton’s arm pulled him out of his concentration, and he felt himself drop down a couple of inches. Once it started, there was no containing the shift in size. Without a word, Dalton stood from the table and rushed to the nearest aisle of bookshelves. 

It was just his luck, Dalton thought. The university library was a horrible place for him shrink down. What was worse, was that it was happening in front of Bennett. He had only just met the guy a couple days ago, and he was one of the only two people that knew about his abilities. Rory had left them alone for just a measly few minutes to go and find a book she needed, and now she wouldn’t be around while Dalton was small and unprotected.

He reached an isolated corner in the back of the library—just in time, too—and Dalton felt the world shift before his eyes as his stomach dropped. He fell to his knees in an attempt to lessen the temporary vertigo. With labored breaths, Dalton looked up, seeing the shelves tower high above his head. He was about half the height of a regular-sized novel right now, and he was out in the open for anyone to see. Anxiety gripped at his throat. 

Thundering footsteps caught his attention, and without a moment’s hesitation, he sprinted to the nearest bookshelf in an effort to conceal himself. 

Bennett slowly came down the aisle. “Dalton?” he called, “Where’d you go?”

Dalton shouldn’t say anything. He shouldn’t reveal his hiding space. He’d never been around Bennett small. He would be completely at his mercy. He had no idea how Bennett would react. 

Then again, Dalton was in the middle of a public library at his university. Anybody could find him, and when he was this vulnerable there would be nothing he could do if they decided to do anything to him.

His safest option would be with Bennett, no matter how unfamiliar that territory is.

Dalton peeked his head out from his hiding place. “I—I’m here,” he called. He hated how his voice trembled.

Bennett’s eyes shot down to the ground, and Dalton watched in anxiety-riddled silence as he waited for Bennett to spot him. 

He hated the fascination that took over Bennett’s features when their eyes locked. Dalton couldn’t help but to take a couple of steps back as Bennett lowered himself to the floor. 

“Holy shit!” A smile crept onto Bennett’s face. “You’re so little.”

Dalton flinched at the volume of his voice, stumbling back a couple more steps. He was nearly totally concealed by the shadows of the bookshelf, and frankly, he felt much safer in there. Even if Bennett hadn’t done anything, he couldn’t help that his flight instinct was screaming at him to run. 

“Keep your voice down,” Dalton told him, his own voice hushed. 

“What was that?” Bennett asked, leaning forwards. “I can hardly hear you.”

He was close. He was too close. “Step back,” Dalton said, voice brittle. He held out a hand as if that would do anything. 

Dalton couldn’t pinpoint the expression that painted Bennett’s face at his words, but he didn’t like the way his eyes softened. “Hey, man,” Bennett said, “it’s just me.”

Yeah, no shit. Dalton did not know Bennett. They had only just met. He had no idea how Bennett would act around him at this size. “I need you to go get Rory,” Dalton told him.

“Why? What’s she going to do that I can’t?”

She would know how Dalton was feeling. Her abilities made sure of that. And even though he would never wish this kind of anxiety on his worst enemy, having someone know exactly what was going through his mind would be better at handling him small compared to someone that Dalton only knew as… sporadic.

“No—nothing,” Dalton responded, too stressed to argue. “Just, we need to get out of here. Like, right now.”

“Okay,” Bennett nodded. “I can handle that.”

He reached out a hand and scooped Dalton into a fist. 

The claustrophobia was immediate. Dalton felt like he was being squeezed—no, he was being squeezed—and the air was quickly stolen from his lungs. His ribs felt like they were going to shatter. He was going to tell Bennett that he was holding him too tight, but his world was lurched forwards as they took a giant step forward. 

Dalton wanted to yell, wanted to demand that Bennett put him back down because he regretted his request to leave immediately, but the fear of being heard (or worse, seen) by others made him keep his mouth shut. 

“I’m gonna put you in my hoodie pocket,” Bennett said as they approached the table they had been working at. “So, I can grab our stuff.”

Without warning he was shoved into his front hoodie pocket. Dalton fought an unmanly yelp as he scrambled for purchase in the fabric.

It was hot, it was tight, it was moving, and there was nothing Dalton could do about it. Where was Bennett taking him? Was he going to tell Rory what was happening? Or would Dalton be stuck with Bennett alone until he was able to grow to his normal size?

The walk felt much too long, or much to short, Dalton couldn’t decide. Bennett’s calloused hands found their way around him again, and Dalton was forced back out into the open. His head spun as Bennett adjusted him right-side up, and Dalton was then—rather carelessly—dropped onto a hard surface. He hit hard, not prepared for the drop, and fell on his side, a hard ough! escaping his lips on impact. He propped himself up on one elbow as he took in his surroundings, afraid to find out where Bennett had taken him.

He was in a dorm room, and Dalton could only guess it was Bennett’s. It was messy—clothes scattered on the floor, loose papers sprawled across the surface of the desk—and as he looked around it seemed that Bennett caught on to what he was thinking.

“Uh, sorry about the mess.” He began to pick up his clothes and throw them into his wardrobe. “I wasn’t really expecting company.”

Dalton, finally free from his fabric prison, took this moment to catch his breath. Not being Bennett’s center of attention and being high off the floor was a lot better than what had happened to him so far.

He couldn’t bring himself to stand just yet. His stomach was still lurching from the jostling movements and his legs were weak with anxiety. Dalton watched Bennett shove his clothing into his wardrobe with enough force to snap Dalton in half at this size if Bennett felt like it. He needed to get up, needed to put himself somewhere he felt a little safer. 

Dalton sat up, the pain around his ribs almost immediate. They felt bruised—maybe worse—and Dalton knew instantly that coming here was a bad idea. He should have known that Bennett was just too curious about his abilities, and that nothing good could come from this little unwanted adventure. 

Bennett sat down at his desk, towering over Dalton’s pitiful form.

“So, now what?” Bennett asked, harshly propping his elbow up on the desk and cradling his chin in his hand. “How do we make you big again?”

Dalton swallowed thickly as he looked up at Bennett, unable to hold eye contact any longer before he forced his head to look back down. “Time,” he choked out. 

Bennett hummed, the fingers of his free hand appearing out of nowhere and grabbing hold of one of Dalton’s arms. His forearm was pinched between two fingers, squeezed just a little too tight. He was then forced to turn his arm over as Bennett examined his too-small limb. “What are you doing?” Dalton asked him, forcing his voice not to tremble.

“Just looking at you,” Bennett answered. “You’re just so small it’s actually insane.”

There was a lump in Dalton’s throat. “Please—please let go.”

“Relax, dude. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

It was too late for that, Dalton wanted to say. But he kept his mouth shut and let Bennett continue to gawk at him. He just prayed that he got bored soon. 

“Your hands are so tiny,” Bennett said. “They’re like the size of my fingertip.” 

His fingers moved down the length of Dalton’s arm, pinching his hand as he marveled at Dalton’s size. Bennett chuckled. “I can’t help but to laugh,” Bennett told him, “this is just so crazy.”

He then yanked on his arm and Dalton lurched forward. His ribs screamed with pain and without a hand to catch himself with, Dalton rolled sideways onto his shoulder. He hit the surface of the desk with an oof.

“Sorry, man.” Bennett was still chuckling, oblivious to Dalton’s discomfort. “I just…” His voice trailed off. “Wow.” 

With each prod and poke and unintentional careless action, Dalton felt more and more broken. Tears began to well in his eyes—tears that Bennett didn’t notice due to his curiosity that overpowered his sensitivity—and a sob caught in his throat. 

Dalton bit his lip, struggling with the internal conflict of wanting Bennett to understand and fearing his own vulnerability. Fear left him frozen where he fell, head and shoulder pressed against the hard surface of the desk. Bennett’s touch never relinquished.

As Bennett’s finger lingered on his side, Dalton’s breath hitched, the ache in his ribs intensifying. He wanted to speak up, to tell Bennett to be more careful, but fear held his tongue. 

A finger ran down the length of Dalton’s side with the intention to forcefully lift him from his spot on the desk. Finally, a single tear rolled down Dalton’s cheek. A choked sob escaped through his lips, and Bennett’s touch froze in its place. 

Dalton swallowed hard, his whole-body tensing as Bennett’s finger pressed against his bruised ribs again. “Bennett, please,” Dalton managed to choke out, his voice trembling.

Bennett paused, noticing the fear in Dalton’s eyes. “Oh,” he said quickly, withdrawing his hand. “Did I hurt you?”

Dalton nodded silently, his chest tight with anxiety. 

“I—I’m sorry.” Bennett was cupping his hands together, holding them close to his chest. “I didn’t realize.”

Dalton didn’t move for a few long moments. He allowed himself to cry. To grieve for a loss of normalcy that he hadn’t realized he lost. He waited for the stinging sensation in his ribs to mellow out enough for him to sit up, to look at Bennett with red, tear-stained eyes and demand that he go and get Rory so this nightmare can come to an end. 

Bennett was already crying. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I wasn’t thinking and—”

“That’s the problem,” Dalton replied bitterly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t think.”

A silence settled between them, thick and heavy with unspoken words. 

“I’m so sorry, Dalton,” Bennett finally said softly, his voice tinged with regret. “I’ll try to do better. Next time—”

“There is no next time,” Dalton interrupted. “Please, just call Rory.”

Without a word, Bennett turned away from the desk. He dialed a number on his phone and put it to his ear. 

Another weirdly specific brainrot is plagging me-

Imagine finding some item at a pawnshap/garage sale/thift shop, Maybe the item is a little figuring, maybe it's a book- whatever it is, the item is fairly small. Upon bringing it home, you start feeling weird. Your head hurts. Thinking it's a migraine, you grab the item and go to head to bed, only-

It yelps.

In a panic you drop it.

It screams.

At first you're quite freaked out, but upon realizing that the item is far more freaked out, you start to calm down. They, whatever it is they are, have been bound to that item, fully aware and conscious- able to feel and perceive, yet completely helpless and unable to do anything. Just an inanimate object. You're the first person that's been able to hear them. They're desperate for your help, though you can tell they're still terrified of you. You're huge to them, and they are quite literally unable to do anything except beg you be gentle.

It's odd, comforting an item, especially one so very terrified of you, but you do your best.

After some time, through conscious actions or random happenstance, you're able to figure out how exactly they're bound to the item- a small binding insignia scrawled on the surface of the item. All you'd need to do is interrupt the lines of ink and they'd be freed, returned to whatever body they came from.

Maybe you've grown close, and the notion of them leaving is sad, maybe the item is absolutely annoying and you're so very excited to get them out of your hair- whatever the case, you do it.

Though things don't work as expected.

They don't return to their body... in that, the item doesn't just go silent as the bound soul zips off to reunite with its body. No- instead, the item glows, taking on a human shape. It grows, but to your horror- it doesn't stop at 6ft. Not 7 or 8.... the once-object-now-person keeps growing beyond the limits of what's humanly possible. Are they 12ft? 20?? 50?? Up to you- but they're clearly far too big to be human, and suddenly, that feeling of powerlessness they once felt is now very unpleasantly relatable.

Is it a magic mishap? Are they from another world? A different species? Perhaps they're dangerous, bound for a specific reason. Are they grateful? Annoyed? Angry???

Adhdjsfjdjd I just think there's so much odd potential from what is essentially a very odd size swap. Lots of potential for both angst and sillys and very unique fearplay, and that combo is my go to happy meal.

i havent seen many people talk about this, but i know it from experience so....

Misophonic Tinies !!! (misophonia is when somebody hears a trigger sound, like chewing, or seeing a trigger movement, like finger tapping/knee bouncing, and then experiencing things like extreme anger, panic/anxiety attacks, and the extreme urge to escape. i struggle with this myself and though id love to be around a giant i know this stuff would impact me badly)

explaining misophonia to a giant

never eating with the giant

HEADPHONES. SAVE ME.

flat out walking away bc you can hear the giant breathing

getting frustrated easily during conversation bc I caN HEAR YOU CHEWING THE INSIDE OF YOUR LIP QUIT IT

"you have a bird in your nose." (nose whistling iykyk)

can't lay on giant bc of normal bodily fluid noises

feeling bad bc you can't be around the giant for so long even though you care about them

never hanging out in a quiet space

the "sorry man, not tonight, I was around a dripping faucet all day" and staying on call instead

hands are good, hands don't have sounds AND I can hide in them from all the sounds

"oh my god WHY CAN I HEAR YOUR THROAT CLICKING WHY?????"

I can see. your finger. it's twitching. i can see it out of the corner of my eye please. please.

MASTERPOST

LOOOOOOOORE

LINEAR STUFF

Rehabilitation (ft Carter, Oliver, Goosefoot, and Thimbleweed)

Plush

Grit

Prologue (to the main story)

(COMING SOON) Read the Signs (ft Caleb, Snakeweed, and Pix)

ONE-SHOTS (may be subject to becoming two shots)

The Date (will they? won't they? I don't know, but one of 'em seems scared!)

Best Friends (reckless boy meets quiet girl. what happens when recklessness leads to trouble?)