11:34 PM 

“>>10499290 (OP)

Not only are they less intelligent, they’re just totally ignorant of the world around them. Every single one I’ve ever met has had a glaze in their eyes like they can’t even fucking muster a single coherent sentence. And just because they’re big they situate themselves on top of the socioeconomic pyramid? Biggos are dumb fucks that only get anywhere because of their size. There, I said it.” 

Dante takes his blanket off and gently creaks his door open as to not awaken his family. He gently steps through the hall and into the kitchen, giving himself a moment to breathe, away from the desktop. Resentment can be so tiring. 

He grabs a can of kombucha from the fridge. Mom is on a health kick. He doesn’t mind. 

Dante notices his hand shaking a bit when he reaches, not realizing how wound up he really was. It’s always been this way. So much energy comes out when he feels miserable, but when time comes to direct it towards something productive, it vanishes. The small energy he can muster is often used to insult strangers online. It bothered him. He didn’t like this version of himself, but everyone else did it, so whatever. 

He turns the kitchen light off before silently trekking down the hallway, waiting to open the can until he is in the quite confines of his bedroom. His body shivers before closing the door, sitting down at his chair and wrapping up in his plush blanket before instinctively hitting F5. 

Several new replies, one directed towards his last message.

“>>10499301

bug cope lol. get over yourself. just because ONE person was rude to you doesnt mean all giants are bad. youre just a typical tiny with a victim mindset who thinks hes special.” 

Dante’s heart raced before leaving the can at his desk and pressing reply. His fingers autonomously fly across the keyboard, fueled by angst. 

“>>10499305

See? Exactly what I’m talking about. You claim not all giants are rude, yet refer to me as bug. You’re a hypocrite with absolutely no self awareness. And victim mindset? Seriously? Look up giant on tiny crime statistics, then get back to me. Giants, or BIGGOS as I like to call them, are in for a rude awakening once the invasions start.” 

A hypothetical judgment day for giants (often believed in by conspiratorial tinies) is a day in which tiny militias sneak into the houses of sleeping giants and poison them with fentanyl. It’s widely discredited as a baseless, racist fantasy. 

He opens another tab. Several, in fact. Angst is a funny thing. No matter how much attention he tried to allocate towards reading another post or Discord message, his mind was on the argument. His heart was restless and his breathing was erratic. He’d go back and refresh. Nothing. Then again, until finally, a reply. 

“>>10499308

hahahaha any tiny that believes in that shit or talks the way you do has a secret giantess fetish, i fucking know it. also i called you a bug because you said biggos first. but please, keep replying. tiny cope is the most entertaining thing ever.” 

Not many are aware of why people say awful things. No one can really imagine themselves stooping low enough to conjure up such imaginative, personal insults. The secret is being at a low point, like Dante, with nothing to lose, being fueled by a jaded, cynical hatred of the world and nothing more. His stomach turns before vigorously hitting reply and slamming on his keys. 

“>>10499410

Know what? I bet you’d never talk like that to my face. Giants are so overwrought with giant guilt that they basically start groveling at the knees when faced with a tiny. Your kind are so fucking pathetic. Just another privileged low IQ giant that wouldn’t even last a minute as a tiny in the Ridgeline sanctuary. 

Giants are a net negative. They take up more space, fuck up the environment, and are a detriment to the economy. Kill yourself, biggo scum.” 

Dante submitted in a fit of heavy breathing before standing up. He ran to his bed and covered himself with the blanket. He wasn’t tired enough to sleep, but lying in a fetal position under blankets tended to calm him down. 

He breathed deeply, trying to feel the texture of his pillows and blankets, grounding himself into a state of bliss. His heartbeat slowed and his anxiety reduced before he thought for a second… did he just type out his location? 

Every town had a sanctuary, which always shared the same name of the town, except it was meant for tinies only. So Chicago has a Chicago sanctuary, and so on. 

In a state of sheer panic, he jumped up out of bed, tripped over his laundry basket of clean clothes he had yet to put away, and raced to the thread to delete his post. He spammed the button before refreshing the page. There was already a reply to his now deleted message. 

“>>10499415

i was going to spare you the embarrassment but im fairly certain you’re the anon that was spreading your bullshit in the ridgeline meetup thread (in which you posted your email). long story short, is there anything you’d like to say before i come over? I live in ridgeline, too :)” 

Dante’s eyes pulsated behind his skull as his hands shivered above the keyboard, unsure of a response. 

Was it time to rake it in? Should he apologize? No, because there’s absolutely no way this person was telling the truth. But could he risk a giant showing up? He knew the risks. He had seen many rekt threads in which giants snuck in to sanctuaries and did unspeakable things. Maybe it wasn’t a giant. Maybe it was a tiny apologist who was just going to give him shit, maybe throw a rock at his house.

He sat staring at the pixels, burning their way into his retinas, rereading the message over and over. 

Fuck that. He wasn’t going to be threatened.

“>>10499420

I used Ridgeline as an example. You’d never find out where I actually am. 

Kill yourself. Giants and giant apologists can all go to Hell…” 

Dante typed more, including many regular human slurs that most of you are familiar with, yet I fear that if I shared what followed after this, this story may be flagged or removed. His fingers glided across the keys in a symphony of hate, he was a composer of the most vile speech that could possibly be uttered, even getting a bit creative with his descriptions of his adversary. He projected every ounce of worthlessness, dissected every possible weakness, critiqued, ridiculed, mocked, and disparaged this anonymous forum browser with such intense ferocity that his mind felt numb. He sat staring at his response, not even remembering pressing the submit button, skimming these terrible words with great distaste. 

He used to get picked first in kickball. He cried tears of joy when he got a game cube for Christmas. What happened to that sweet child? He thought, before getting up to take a piss, allowing his heart to rest. 

He pissed on the side of the toilet as to not make as much noise. He watched it dribble beneath the dim lit tungsten light against the porcelain. He noticed as the last drops dispersed, the toilet bowl water continued moving. He watched longer; the vibrations bumped through it one at a time, until finally he *felt* them. Distant yet certain thuds came closer and closer. His stomach dropped. This was the end. 

Without even flushing, he ran into his bedroom and hid in the closet. He knew it made no difference. It was just instinctual. 

Sitting in the closet gave him time to reflect. Anxiety thoughts poured from his subconscious like a firehose. “I just got myself killed. I just got my mom killed. I potentially got my entire neighborhood demolished, all because of my own insecurities.” The thunderous vibrations encroached slowly, closer and closer.

The thing was, even though it seemed counter-intuitive, most tinies didn’t fear destruction from giants. It was widely recognized as an uncommon yet disproportionately reported phenomenon. Tiny media loved vilifying the giants and vice versa. Many had become numb to the over sensationalization. And so, when the giant marched through the street, most of the town refrained from panicking, instead becoming mildly annoyed that a visitor was coming so late. Few lights turned on in nearby homes, but not many. 

But Dante lacked the common sense to question giant representation in media. He believed the wives tales and conspiracies, the giant on tiny crime statistics (that are overblown and discredited), the frame of view that these beings along with various other shadowy organizations were out to get him. The byproducts of an isolated existence of fear. 

The footsteps grew so close that he closed his eyes, waiting to be crushed any moment. Tears streamed down his face thinking of his poor mom that he just sentenced to death, the house she worked so hard to afford about to be obliterated by an angry internet stranger. 

Crunched in the back of his closet, eyes squeezed shut and shivering, the steps stopped. He peaked one eye open. False alarm? 

He got up, wiping the salty liquid off his nose and eyes, some getting into his mouth. A quick yank on the blinds revealed two massive feet on his front lawn. His stomach dropped again. Converse sneakers the size of city buses stood planted, as if awaiting a response. He could not see beyond the pale white legs and black socks connected to the sneakers. 

A bellowing voice above seemed to clear their throat. 

Suddenly, a blink of blinding light. Two, in fact. White blasts like a flashbang. Dante covered his face and brought his shivering body to his computer chair. 

“What the hell…” 

Unsure of what to do, he refreshed the thread a few times on his computer. Nothing until… oh… Oh no…

A photo taken from someone’s phone… the giant’s phone… a photo of his house from high above, with two legs planted in his yard. Attached, the following, harrowing sentence:

“come outside anon :)” 

He had no choice. He was grateful that this being had the decency to not resort to catastrophic measures because of their dispute. 

He opened his bedroom door, mind and heart speeding, eyes pulsating, his body quivering down the hall as he fights back tears. 

He holds the front door knob. It’s as if he’s staying inside the plane during a skydive. He knows he needs to jump, but the thought of it makes him want to throw up. He creaks the front door open. 

Peering through the crack reveals the full body of the stranger. He scans up the pale white legs to reveal ripped jean shorts, a chain wallet looped through the side with a black belt, tucked in black tee shirt with an anime girl on the front. The stranger had breasts… Dante was embarrassed even more, expecting a male giant as an adversary. 

Above her breasts was a cute face, short black hair to her shoulders with blonde highlights in the front. She looked like she often wore makeup, but wasn’t today. Her face was glowing from the light of her phone, a devilish smirk staring at the screen. As Dante stood there, her eyes met his. His cover was blown.

She crouched down, bringing her face close to the front door, whispering. 

“Come out, it’s okay.” 

Dante opened the door. He tried to appear not terrified. An attempt was made to casually close the door, but it didn’t click at first. He had to try again. It slid open again. He turned around and manually had to turn the knob and close the door, his hand shaking so bad that he wanted to cry again. He timidly turned back to her, and walked out, unable to stare her in the eyes, holding one limp arm as he stared at the floor. 

She laid her open palm on the front lawn, motioning towards the boy. He got the message and climbed in. 

Dante expected to be crushed, bullied, humiliated. As far as he was concerned, he deserved it and didn’t care. 

The girl lifted him up to her eyes. Dante hurried into the center of the palm, terrified of heights. This was a normal way for giants to speak to tinies. It was considered rude to bend down. 

Dante’s eyes were closed. He sat fetal in her palm until her quiet, warm voice washed over him.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to scare you.” 

She had planned on being more torturous, more cruel, lifting her foot above the tiny stranger and his house in a threatening manner, but the state of Dante was so pathetic that she refrained. He was already so clearly stricken with guilt and shame that it would only be mean to go further. 

Dante’s fear remained, but was diluted with embarrassment. He muttered uncontrollably.

“I’m I’m I’m really sorry I didn’t I really haven’t been feeling well I don’t know I have problems I’m really in a bad place right now-” His voice shook on the verge of breaking throughout the word vomit. 

“What? Did you just apologize?”

“Yeah I’m really sorry. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I’m really fucked up.”

He still stared downwards at her anime shirt. It was one of those trendy Neon Genesis ones. 

“I was expecting you to be an asshole. I was thinking about recording it for a cringe thread.” 

“I am an asshole.”

“No, you’re okay. Not as bad as other people on 4chan. You’re actually cuter than I expected.” 

 She said it so dryly and matter of fact that it didn’t even resonate as a compliment. 

Dante sat autistically twiddling his hands. 

“Thanks for not hurting me. I thought you were going to smash my house. My mom is inside sleeping.”

“I figured. I don’t kill tinies. That’s really fucked up.”

She kept a smile the whole time. 

“So… um… are we good…” Dante wasn’t sure what to say or do. 

“Well, not yet. I don’t think a sorry is enough.” 

“D-d-do you want me to pay you? I can venmo you-”

“No, nothing like that. Is your sleep schedule fucked up?” 

Considering it was already past midnight, it seemed obvious. 

“Yeah.”

“When do you usually go to sleep?”

“Um, like 4am…” 

“Want to come over for a bit? I’m bored and need more tiny friends.” 

It was sort of a social convention for a giant to have tiny friends. It made them feel as if their opinions about society and politics were more valid. 

“After everything I said? Why would you want to be friends?” 

“Part of me wants to change your mind. About giants, y’know. I think the world would be a better place if giants were more welcoming.” 

Dante’s fear resided enough to realize her breath had been blowing across his face throughout her whispers. The girl was stunningly cute. The way she looked down at him put him into a trance.

“Well… that would be nice…do you… actually watch Neon Genesis, or did you just like that shirt…” 

“I LOVE it, are you kidding? By the way, I’m Paige.” 

“Nice to meet you… I think… Sorry my name is Dante or you can call me Dan its really up to you I don’t really care.” He was trying to shake the awkwardness but it felt impossible.

The girl strode away. Dante looked back down at his house as they got further. He looked around the night sky. He had never been held by a giant, a privilege usually reserved for personal friends of giants. Paige went on about the show as he observed his surroundings. He’d never seen his neighborhood from this high. The stars  felt bigger and closer. The gentle summer night breeze felt amazing. He realized how much anguish he was putting himself through by chaining himself to the screen. Looking back at Paige’s torso revealed her breasts flick and bounce with each footstep. Dante looked away immediately, afraid she’d notice him staring. 

Despite the ideal manner in which these events transpired, the boy’s trust and hope had yet to be validated. He imagined a slow and painful death as Paige prodded him with needles once in the secure confines of her house. But this, again, was fear speaking. What would be in store for him would be a comfortable and pleasant change of pace from the neurotic psychosis. 

Unsure of what lies beyond, he sat curled in a ball, listening to Paige’s soothing analysis of the anime against the nostalgic gusts of air, the scent of which was fresh and outdoorsy combined with some of the Gain dryer sheets from Paige’s clothes, a vague hint of artificial vanilla perfume beyond that. The person he had spewed the most regrettable sentences in his life towards was now a source of comfort. 

He wished he could rest in her palm for hours.