While it is obviously fun to imagine the most idealistic of scenarios, I would not mind a depiction of a G/T relationship like an actual relationship – with both the high notes and the low. The initial meeting and wonder that one finds in the other. The awkwardness as they adjust to simply being able to interact. The tension as they decide to take things further. The sadness that they can’t be like a ‘normal’ relationship and have to make compromises (mostly in how they physically show love to each other.) The difficulties of finding the right gifts or the right activities to do together. The joy of when they finally figure something out where they are both happy. The sadness and anger of the disapproving looks and the suggestions that they look for someone ‘less weird’. The fear in an argument when the tiny realizes just how powerless they are. The forgiveness when the giant reconciles for their attitude. The simple happiness of waking up together.
Just like how you need a frame of reference to show just how big or small something is, I appreciate stories that provide the grey moments so that the colorful moments stand out stronger.
Its always a struggle…. Like he can’t fit into anything so its always a hassle trying to buy clothes for him… I can’t take him to the movies unless he’s willing to sit in a crouch position for three hours… He can’t fit into most spaces because he has to slump his shoulders… Things like that.
My arm gets tired of being up because I have to reach to hold his Hand… His hair is so long it gets everywhere…. Boots and shoes are always made, never bought, if he falls I fall too with the aftershock, the list goes on.
now that i am home, allow me to reiterate what i mean by these: @minisculemiscreant
tripping. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Like serious, when
Zeph falls, the house goes KABOOM and then I have to catch falling lamps,
Ceiling below six feet tall are a big no no. Zeph has enough trouble slouching
in crowded spaces, let alone a ceiling that is chest height.
Sitting at a table/counter with him is torture because of the amount of space
he takes up.
Cars are a big hassle. He can never seem to fit comfortably inside of a car
without having to bend his head.
Or lack thereof. There are no doorways that have not been demolished, squished,
cracked or taken down. His body is just too squishy and big!
FOUR FEET LONG HAIR EVERYWHERE. And then down the drain it’s even worse. It’s
like pulling on rope.
Getting clothes or shopping itself is a hassle. Anything that’s an XXXL is good
enough, but anything below that and he doesn’t fit. Which is the norm.
Shoes. He designs and creates his own shoes
because they’re so darn expensive. They don’t make size 20
voice. His lungs are full of air and it sometimes hurts to hear him speak. He
has to whisper and be gentle.
tall. People think it’s okay to poke fun at his height. It’s not. He’s nine
feet two inches tall. Get over it. The weather’s the same up there as it is
down here. Asshats.
feelings. People get scared of him. Because he’s so tall he stands out in a
crowd, and often times people shy away from him because he’s so big.
Concerts. The last time we went to a concert
venue, we had to stand off to the side, the people behind him couldn’t see past
Couches and beds have no chance with his weight. He’s 1500 pounds of muscle and
meat and bone, and the only way he sleeps is on a mattress on the floor. Or blankets.
Blankets never cover his feet. Most blankets are large enough for his body, and
can be used as a towel. Most however… can’t be used as blankets.
One size fits all my ass.
I’m five feet two inches. I am short. His arms are long. My arm gets tired
holding his. So, so tired.
He never has an actual shower. His head reaches above the shower frame and the
water comes down from his chest. Baths are an easy compromise.
crafts. What even is beading? Melty beads? Absolutely not. Everything has
to be with big locks and chains, or he can’t grip it. It’s too small.
He eats. A lot. $200 worth of groceries and I’m still trying to find cheap
pasta and meat for his stomach. He eats enough to feed three men.
His steps are a bit faster than mine, so I have to half jog, half run to keep
up. It’s a pain.
new people. People aren’t used to seeing a nine foot giant walking about. Oh
and did I mention the occasional screaming?
cushion. I can sit on him and not feel bad.
off shelves. His arms reach everywhere.
amazing. The sex is absolutely amazing. He can reach places I didn’t think I had.
The hugs are like being wrapped in warm plushy blankets of pure strong and loving
His scent (which is earth rain) completely surrounds you whenever you’re near. He’s
big enough that it wafs everywhere and it’s amazing.
When he’s gentle, he’s soft and cuddly and calming.
He’s a literal wall for anyone who tries to bother me. If I have an irritating
person talking to me? He just stands behind me, and glares. They’re done.
Because he’s so big, he’s also really muscular. He can pick up anything from a
car to the edge of the house, and even uproot trees if he feels like it.
If I don’t do laundry and I need a shirt, I automatically get free long length
shirts. His are long enough to be made pajamas.
The kisses are amazing. Huge puffy lips puckered against your cheek, or even
against your own lips. Heaven.
Getting head rubs and pets from the person you love is amazing. Especially when
that person’s entire hand takes up your head.
at me. When Zeph lifts my eyes to look up at him, that’s when I really feel
how big he is and how protected I am.
He can carry me ANYWHERE AND IT’S FANTASTIC. I have cramps? No problem. Hitch a
ride on the Zeph train!
He can literally hold everything. His hands are large enough to hold many bags,
suitcases, and even books.
Warm soft belly to lay my head on, nice strong chest to place my head on, big shoulder
to cry on, yeah. It’s good.
Whenever I cry I just let him hold me and make me feel small and warm, his
shoulder is so big I can cry all over it and still only get a quarter of his
oh no tooting my own horn
“This isn’t a commercial plane,” he says, and she lets him bring her close as the hatch slowly lifts up with a mechanical whine and closes. “It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”
She looks around at the dimly lit hold. “Where the hell do I sit?”
“You can go up front if you want,” the mech offers, gesturing toward a door at the head of the space.
“And if I don’t want to?”
A smile spreads on his faceplates. “Then you’d better hunker down with me.” He pulls her down with him until she’s nestled between his legs. “Don’t want you to go flying during takeoff. That’d be bad.”
She cranes her neck to try and see the both of them at the same time, very suddenly aware of how big everyone’s legs and feet are around here, and not sure how to feel about it.
But the new mech leans down and reaches out with his hand, one bigger than Hound’s, which she takes in some semblance of a handshake. “Nice to meet you!” he says. “All you need to know about me is that I love a good drink, good company, and a good joke.”
“Soon-to-be government agent,” she says with a laugh.
He straightens up. “Why don’t you set her up on the bar here, Hound? Let’s have a conversation like normal folk.”
“You know, you can tell me anything,” he tries, plopping down on the berth and assisting her up. “That’s supposed to be one of the perks of being in a relationship, or so I hear.”
Unfortunately, the humor seems lost on her. “I feel stupid here,” she sighs.
That’s… pretty left field.
“Yeah, stupid. I feel ignorant and naïve… I’m still weirded out by you guys, even though I have no reason to be. I feel stupid walking around everyone’s feet like a dog, not being able to reach anything…” she takes a breath here, and Hound uses the opportunity to put his hand to her back. “I feel like I’m relying on you too much.”
There are butterflies in her belly and she gives a little yelp as he suddenly rises up onto his feet, jostling her around and forcing her to grab onto his head. The two laugh and he begins his stroll down the road.
She looks down, not ahead. Astrid watches with bottomless curiosity as his huge legs slowly swing forward below her, plant on the ground, and recede back underneath him with every one of his steps. There’s almost a sighing sound as his thighs come back into view, then a flat thud as his feet make contact with the dirt. His arms swing in time with his steps, just like humans’ do; back, forth, back forth…
Because up until this point, she’s told herself a story. A story about a girl meeting a boy, and the girl falling for the boy in spite of his appearance; they kiss, they touch, they hold hands; but it’s his mind she likes so much, the story goes. His compassion. His kindness. His goofy smile that’s two sizes too big.
And it’s still too soon right now, but it won’t be long before she seriously begins to wonder if maybe that story isn’t true.
It takes him a moment to respond, and when he does, he makes sure he’s looking away. “Yeah,” he murmurs, defeated. “Yeah I did. And that’s why I don’t think we should do that anymore.”
Astrid’s floored. “Seriously?”
“I lost control!” he snaps, still looking away. “If you were another ‘bot, or if I were human, it would be easier. But we’re not. We’re different. I’m big, you’re small. I’m heavy, you’re fragile. I’m metal, you’re tissue.” Hound pauses to gather himself. “There is nothing about my body that won’t kill you if I don’t pay attention to every little thing that I’m doing. All the time. If I trip on something? If I misjudge where I am? How I’m sitting or standing or moving? That’s it. That’s all it takes. I can’t… I won’t risk it.”
“Then why are we even together?” she says. That gets his attention, and she continues before he can respond. “Because it’s pretty obvious to me that if you feel that way, maybe we shouldn’t even be together at all. Maybe I should just quit my job with the Bureau and move back into a normal house, surround myself with normal company my own size. Because clearly you’re the only dangerous thing that ever happened to me, and wow life would just be so safe without you.”
“Look, in all seriousness… you think I hooked up with you because I wanted normalcy? Safety? You’re one big adventure and that’s exciting. You just gotta trust me when I say that I know what the risks are.”
“I’m like a game of Russian Roulette,” he mutters, still convinced that he needs to prove how awful he is.
“Fine, whatever. Click click, bang, bang.”