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neonthewrite · 2 days

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Shackled Forest

The next GT July prompts were Jewelry and Cursed, and though I started with just the first one in mind, it fits the second pretty well too, so I'll count it for both. Got a new concept for me to play around with, some new characters ... we all know I love a forest character.

Introducing Morrel. He's doing his best, but it's difficult.

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The jewels hadn’t shown a sign of life in a long time.

Sometimes Morrel naively, stupidly, foolishly-optimistically thought that they’d finally fallen inert, all power sapped away into the atmosphere never to bother him again. But if that were the case, he’d be able to remove them. The thick wrist bangles, glittering with teal and blue gems, would unclasp and fall away while the choker with its enormous ruby at his throat would fly open and he’d be free of the weight at last.

But no. They stayed with him, more than a human’s weight in gold and a matching quantity of precious stones, heavy and lifeless, until that morning.

It began as a stirring dread in the back of his mind that he almost hadn’t recognized in the early hours. By sunrise, though, he couldn’t deny what it meant.

A human had found and donned the fourth and final piece of jewelry in the set. A ring, the band human-sized rather than giant, sporting a humble diamond little more than a fleck of glitter to his eyes. Despite its small, nondescript appearance, though, that ring meant only trouble for him.

He felt no compulsion, no drive towards the wearer of that ring, which meant that they didn’t know what they’d picked up. That was good. There was still time to figure something out. Time before they understood they had a giant bound to their whim, no matter what it may be. If they figured that out, Morrel would be stuck with them, and they with him, until they passed on or renounced the ring.

No wearer had cast off the ring before. He had no reason to believe this newcomer would either.

To that end, he rushed towards where he’d last seen that infernal ring. The height of a young tree himself, nearly thirty feet, he couldn’t do much sprinting on the forest floor without damaging everything in his path. Instead, Morrel skimmed over the canopy, his boots barely touching the crowns of the trees like a water skimmer barely touched the surface of a lake. To anyone on the ground below, he would be a passing wind and little more.

He tried not to think too hard about what he might need to do when he arrived. If he indeed found the ring near where he expected it: on the tiny, fragile hand of a human. He couldn’t touch the ring itself, thanks to his own accessories. He couldn’t harm someone who’d activated the power in the ring. For someone who didn’t know, though … Morrel had options. None of them were good.

The alternative couldn’t happen again. That ring had passed through generations of tiny human hands, leaving him at the command and mercy of tyrants and warmongers, pillars of greed and conquest alike. He’d never felt relief the likes of what he felt when the last king to wear that ring had fallen to a highwayman, his jewels and money taken away to be passed around among thieves. One of Morrel’s first actions taken with free will in centuries had been to terrorize a camp of bandits, to put his hands on a human before he could take up the ring.

A nondescript piece of jewelry was easily forgotten, tamped into the mud and ruin of that camp. No one remembered a ring over a gold-bedecked rampaging giant-of-the-woods, with skin like tree bark, long, bloody hands and sharp features, four narrow eyes glowing with the colors of sunset and a voice like a storm.

Morrel didn’t want to hurt anyone like he’d done then. He didn’t need to hurt anyone. He merely needed to separate them from the ring that would seal his fate.

Whatever human it was had some choice in the matter too.

At less than half a mile from where that camp had stood decades ago, Morrel slowed his dash, sinking into the woods with only a whisper of leaves against his skin and tattered clothes.

He couldn’t do much about the shining gold of his jewelry, but Morrel had at least switched out his old clothes, fine things in the colors of the kingdom he’d belonged to for so long. He wore rougher fabrics now, pieced together or bartered from the occasional passing hill-giant, in the greens and greys of the woods he called home. When he sank into the forest, it was like a new tree had sprouted there and began slinking between the trunks.

The dread in his core ebbed and flowed like a tide. Morrel couldn’t say whether his own anxiety or the actions of whoever had the ring did it. He could barely remember the first time that ring had fallen into human hands, how it had felt then. The freedom of before was a faraway dream, hazy and faded by centuries of subjugation. What he had now wasn’t even freedom, not with that threat constantly waiting.

The threat that, now, hung so close over him he practically felt its shadow.

Stalking through the trees, the dread became sharper, more focused. He had never kept track of where exactly the ring had fallen—he never needed to. This clarity always grew when he came too close to it. Only bad things came from that little band of gold and his whole body knew it; if running as fast as he could in the opposite direction would help, he’d have abandoned it long ago.

A small voice mumbled up ahead—no, two voices. Morrel’s eyes narrowed and he crept even slower towards the sound, blending into the trees despite his bulk. His recent years of avoiding humans hadn’t been enough to forget how to read tone in a small voice; they were arguing over something. One of them was old and gruff, the other young and fresh. It was more than the simple kind of arguing between a willful youth and their elder.

Creeping close enough to parse the words but not enough for them to spot him easily between the trees, Morrel’s core chilled like winter.

“I’ve got a feeling about this thing. Why would we just give this away for what’s probably not enough money to solve our problems? There’s something magic in it, we just need—”

“What we need is money, you little idiot. Not flights of fancy and pretending the dirty jewelry you found in the woods is magic. Give it here!”

Foliage and twigs shuffled as the pair apparently chased each other a few steps. Not far—the older voice grunted in discomfort and the younger voice huffed defiantly. “It is magic. It resized to fit me as soon as I put it on. And I’m going to find out what it does!”

It was as good a cue as any. Morrel couldn’t allow the owner of that young, hopeful voice find out what the accursed ring did. He abandoned stealth for speed and surged forward, slipping past tree trunks like they were reeds in a pond, scraping away bark and low branches.

And then he was upon them.

He was fast, faster than his bulk might suggest. One long hand dropped to the older human where he stood, knocking him from his feet and pinning him harshly to the ground. Weak struggles met Morrel’s unforgiving palm, though he didn’t lean enough weight onto the man to give him more than bruises.

The other hand snatched at the other human where she stood on a boulder jutting out of the ground, surely the spot she planned to flaunt her spryness over her companion while she talked wistfully of magic and boons and happy tales. Morrel’s hand found her all the same, long fingers like steel coiling around her middle before she could flinch away. His thumb lengthened and sharpened as he hauled her off the stone, the point resting just a breath away from her throat. She stared at him with wide eyes, all bravado forgotten, while her companion shouted unintelligible things from where he was stuck on the ground. She didn’t even struggle, just stared at him with wide, terrified eyes.

It wouldn’t be the first time. With and without the influence of the jewels, Morrel’s hands had been bloodied. He could do this again.

She was so young.

Had that mattered last time?

He couldn’t remember the faces or the voices of the last humans he’d accosted. They had been bandits, humans living rough much like these two seemed to be. They were so so different from the humans dressed in fine things and living in constant luxury that had hurt him. But they had the same opportunity to hurt him anyway.

He couldn’t hurt a fully aware master of that ring, but even though she wore the grubby thing on her grubby finger, she hadn’t realized its potential yet. She knew it held magic, and that provided the wary dread at the back of Morrel’s mind, the knowledge that he could be captured again. Now was the only time to save himself, and he hesitated.

It needed to be done. He’d be protecting himself. Just one little motion of his hand and it would be over. Her fate was regrettable, but his own had to matter more to him.

But she stared up at him, so young and afraid, with eyes that couldn’t have taken in two decades of life.

“Close your eyes, young thing,” he said. He didn’t have a mouth, but his voice rumbled out of him all the same, and he was grateful it didn’t betray his hesitation. “Close your eyes. Look away. Whatever is easiest.”

It wasn’t the young human but the older one that responded. “No ... no! Take me instead, if you must take someone! We meant no disrespect or trespass!”

Morrel didn’t look away from the human in his hand, but his gaze softened. His lower set of eyes closed entirely. “No. Close your eyes, little thing.”

She shook her head, though a shiver diminished some of the sense of brave defiance. Her gaze flickered over him quickly, taking in a few details of his appearance, but she didn’t waver. “Y-you don’t actually want to hurt me, do you?”

Morrel’s eyes shifted to a slightly stormier color, some grey mixing in with the sunset hues. “I want to do what is necessary. If you will not accept what mercy I can offer, that is not—”

“No, that’s not it,” the girl said, her confidence growing while his dimmed. “I can—” she broke off into a laugh and finally looked away from his face down to her pinned arm, where one hand sported the faintest glint of gold. “I can feel what you actually want.”

Morrel froze.

Somewhere within him, a lock clicked into place.

His dread peaked and then drained away to nothing.

The girl grinned wider. “I know what this ring does.”

#gtjuly #gtjuly2023 #mywriting #morrel #forest spirit #gt #g/t #giant tiny #handheld #g/t handheld

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mouzeinsoup · 10 months

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day 11: melancholy

sad boy hours 😔

hot chocolate helps though

#oh boy i sure do love drawing hands #mmMMM #g/t #gt fluff #gtjuly #gtjuly2023 #oc: collin #oc: charlie #my art #mouze art

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bonzybonztea · 10 months

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I did this quick cause I want to do this prompt list sooo bad and to try and keep up so

Day ONE: Enchanted

#sfw g/t #art #giant #sfw giant/tiny #tiny #g/t #my art #g/t ocs #oc: wren #oc: ennis #oc art #gtjuly #gtjuly2023 #sfw gt #giant tiny #gentle giant #bonzart

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misamy-art · 10 months

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Day 4 - Stargazing 🌠🌌

I thought a little more fluff this time, something relaxed and calm and adorable. I hope you like it ❤️✨

#macro #micro #tiny #g/t #giant/tiny #gtjuly #g/t related #gentle giant #giant #stargazing #gigantic #gigantes #tiny man #gtfluff #gt fluff

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gianttol · 1 year

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♡ GT July 2023 Prompt List ♡

Big thanks to @pocket-ozwynn for helping with the prompts!

#someone asked for the prompt list early so im postin them reeeeeal early! I will reblog and reblog again closer to the month #also thank you anon that sent some prompts! i did see it and I hope some of these line up with the ones you mentioned #^u^#gtjuly #gtjuly2023 #thoughts on the design this time?? i think it looks fresh :3 #g/t #giant/tiny #giant tiny #gt

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dolldays · 9 months

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G/T July - Day 20 [Intimidate] (...?)

#gtjuly2023 #gtjuly #I cannot be bothered to finish this and you are forbidden to judge me #we're pretending the horns don't glow for this >:)#gt #g/t

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whumpsday · 10 months

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Kane & Jim AU: Tiny Kane

Kane & Jim AUs Masterlist

g/t sideblog here! @smallsday

content: whump, g/t, tiny whump, fear, burns, torture, vampire whumpee, whumper turned whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker, rescue, caretaking, recovery, comfort, starvation, weight loss due to starvation

Whumpmas in July Day 6: Deprived GT July Day 6: AU Two Weeks of Whump Day 6: Cage

surprise extra cameo from TWOW as well, three events in one! i've been wanting to do a tiny Kane AU for a looong time. how did Kane become tiny, you ask? well, it's- (i describe a convenient plot device, but a loud truck blows past and you can't hear me). but yeah i'm just doing this for fun and not worrying about the context lol. you get no in-universe explanation, i just love tiny whump

Jim was pretty sure the only reason he wasn't completely freaking out right now was because he'd been warned in advance about the size, but he was still freaking out a little bit.

Kane sat huddled in the middle of a little silver cage, trying his best to balance himself so the only part of him that touched the floor was protected by the small bit of clothing he had. A pair of shorts that looked like they'd been haphazardly sewn together, the seams halfway to coming apart. He strained to raise his feet slightly so they wouldn't burn.

Despite his efforts, the hunter thrust the cage toward Jim carelessly, causing Kane to lose his balance and burn his feet. He shrieked, righting himself as quickly as possible. The entirety of his five-inch body was dotted with similar burns.

The hunter tossed a key, which Jim scrambled to catch. "Don't worry, it's harmless now."

Jim carefully took the cage, being sure to move steadily enough that Kane wouldn't fall over again. On a closer look, a large, circular burn on Kane's back looked suspiciously like the end of a cigarette. "Oh."

He barely paid attention as the hunter said goodbye. All he could focus on was Kane. The situation was too bizarre.

"It's been a while," he said as soon as the hunter left.

Kane burst into tears instantly. "I'm sorry!" he cried. "P-please, Jim, sir, I'm so sorry! Mercy, please have mercy, I can't take-" He was crying so hard that he struggled to pull enough air into his little lungs, gasping for breath around tears. "I'm s-so sorry, I'm so sorry, please-"

"Hey, hey," Jim interrupted him, sick to his stomach. He'd fantasized for years about wringing an apology from his tormenter, but not like this. It was abundantly clear Kane expected Jim to hurt him.

As much as he hated Kane, as much as he'd wished him dead for years, he didn't think he could ever hurt someone as defenseless as Kane was now. Like the hunter said, he was harmless. The vampire may have haunted his nightmares and waking paranoia alike for the past decade, but Jim couldn't even bring himself to be afraid of him now.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he continued. "How about we get you out of there? That looks... painful."

Kane nodded profusely, tears streaming down his face. "Please," he begged.

Jim placed the cage on the hood of his car, trying his best not to jostle it. Kane whimpered at the movement, every muscle tensed as he tried to balance himself.

The key was small and silver. To him it was a harmless trinket, but it was half as tall as Kane and would burn him on touch. When he'd heard about Kane's size now, Jim had only thought of what it meant in terms of the harm Kane could cause. Like this, Kane couldn't hurt him, kidnap him, force him into submission. He'd never thought about what the hunters might do to a vampire this vulnerable.

He unlocked the cage, reaching in since Kane wouldn't be able to climb out on his own without getting burned. Kane looked at his approaching hand with utter terror, but made no move away from it, allowing Jim to scoop him into his palm and out of the cruel cage.

Kane stared up at him, eyes wide with fear as his chest rose and fell rapidly, backed up against his fingers so Jim could feel him trembling. His heart raced, fluttering with fear.

"It's okay," Jim soothed the tiny, shaking vampire in his palm. He hated Kane, he really did. Nothing could ever erase the things Kane did to him, the years Kane stole from him. But he knew what it was like to be hurt and scared, and he wouldn't wish it on anyone. Even Kane. "Just try and relax."

Kane gave a stiff nod, but did not relax. "Yes, sir," he said anyway, timid and afraid.

It felt so wrong, and brought up some of the worst memories Jim had. Memories of being that vulnerable person, unable to stand even the slightest chance of protecting himself against someone so strong, calling Kane sir just like he wanted in a desperate attempt to placate him before he-

"Jim," he corrected, unnerved. "You know my name."

"Y-yes, Jim!" Kane squeaked, only looking more terrified, like calling him sir had been worthy of execution. "I'm sorry!"

"Don't worry about it." Jim threw the silver shit on the floor of the backseat before getting in the car, briefly scanning for a decent place to put Kane. "I'm gonna put you in the cupholder."

"Thank you," Kane breathed. He sounded so relieved to just be out of that cage. Jim couldn't imagine what a car ride in that thing would be like.

He went to put Kane in the cupholder, but hesitated.

Kane weighed almost nothing, even less than he should at this size. Given his lack of a shirt, Jim could easily see his ribs poking against the skin of his chest, the way his stomach dipped in, concave like his cheeks.

He was starving. He was starving so badly that if he weren't a vampire, he would surely be dead.

The fact that the hunters had deprived Kane of food when it would take so little to keep him fed was horrifying. He was five inches tall, and yet they'd stripped him of everything from food to clothes to accommodations that wouldn't burn him. It was cruel. it was sadistic.

It would take so very little for Jim to rectify it.

He didn't want to do this. It was ridiculous, considering the circumstances, but he was scared to. The scars on his neck, hidden snug under the fabric of his turtleneck, seemed to ache the more he thought about it.

Jim set Kane down gently in the cupholder. He could psych himself up on the drive home. For good measure, he grabbed a couple stray napkins and put them in there with him. "Here, you can use these to make yourself a little more comfortable."

Kane wrapped them both around himself instantly, bundling himself up in the cheap paper like they were blankets. "Thank you," he said, choked up with genuine gratitude. "Thank you so much for letting me use them. I'll be good."

The display about broke Jim's heart. "No problem, man."

Kane sat dutifully in the cupholder the whole drive, beyond grateful that he didn't have to do it in the silver cage. The cage which laid ominously in the backseat, ready to be pulled out again whenever Jim decided he deserved it. And Kane knew he deserved it.

Jim could do anything he wanted to him, and he'd be powerless to resist. He'd probably be powerless to resist even at his old size, given how weak the starvation had made him, but especially now. Just like Jim had been when their situations were reversed. Jim could return every slap, every kick, every iron-clad grasp around his neck that Kane had dished out, and return it tenfold until he was nothing but red paste.

But he would heal. He always did, slowly but surely, and would continue to unless he was staked. Jim may have shown him mercy this time, but he couldn't expect that every time after what he'd done.

Jim parked the car when they got there, extending his hand toward the cupholder. "We're here," he announced.

Kane waited a moment to be grabbed, something he'd become very accustomed to after years of being handled like an unbreakable toy, before he realized Jim was waiting for him to climb on.

"Yes, s- Jim," he corrected himself just in time, hauling himself onto the human's warm hand. He brought the lovely napkins with him, hoping Jim would allow him to keep them.

The decadent smell of human blood enveloped Kane once again as Jim cupped his hand around him, his mouth watering at the scent. He would do anything for just a drop, but he knew better by now. Bad vampires got punished. He could be good, prove he was worthy of being allowed outside his horrible, burning cage. Even being used as an ashtray would be better.

Jim carried him inside. It was surreal: he hadn't been anywhere besides the hunters' compound and its backyard since shrinking. To be in a regular house, with everything massive and blown up around him, just emphasized how he could never go back to his old life. He would be at the mercy of others forever, no matter what.

"I don't have any clothes for you," Jim said apologetically. "I wasn't expecting you to... not have any. I'll look for something in town for you tomorrow. I'll get you some cloth you can use in the meantime."

That was even better than napkins! Jim was going to give him clothes! Clothes his size, that fit!

"Thank you so much!" he enthused, craning his neck to look up at his new keeper. "That would be amazing. You're- you're very generous." He knew he would have to earn this kindness, but he was too excited to care.

Jim shrugged, Kane's world tilting with the motion. "It's kind of just the bare minimum. It's not like you ever deprived me of clothes, right?"

"I would never," Kane assured him quickly.

It was hardly the only kindness Jim would gift him that night. Jim allowed him to bathe in the sink, and choose what room he would be kept in. He chose the basement, enticed by the lack of windows bearing the dangers of the sun. Jim set up a small cardboard box for him layered with blanketing. It was the softest thing he'd felt in years.

"There's one more thing." Jim seemed... upset about this one, which set Kane on edge.

He pulled the cloth he'd been given tighter around himself. Was Jim finally about to take his revenge? Kane could deal with that, as long as he got to sleep on something soft after. "Yes?"

Jim reached toward him. Despite his own train of thought, Kane couldn't help but flinch back. Waiting to be grabbed, squeezed, his limbs snapped, his skin burnt-

But Jim didn't touch him. His hand stopped in front of him, a giant thumb in front of his face. "You can feed."

Kane couldn't believe what he was hearing. After years of complete deprivation, he would finally be allowed food?

He didn't ask Really?. He didn't ask if there were restrictions. He couldn't bear it. He was being given permission, and every instinct in his body screamed at him to feed before the precious blood was taken away forever again.

"Thank you!" Kane exclaimed. He took Jim's thumb in his hands, and with a final glance up at Jim, he bit.

The taste was like nothing he could have ever imagined, more phenomenal than any blood he'd tasted before in his life, despite how many times he'd tasted Jim's blood in particular. It flowed into his mouth with abundance, rich and savory. He couldn't possibly get enough, even when Jim's thumb trembled in his hold.

He drank and drank until he physically couldn't anymore. Jim didn't stop him. He just let him keep going, and as Kane came out of his bloodlust-induced frenzy and back to rational thought, he realized that maybe his new size had a good aspect to it after all.

Kane swiped his tongue over the two pinpricks his fangs had made, then released the thumb, scooting back into the cardboard. "Thank you so much. That's- that's the kindest thing anyone's ever done for me. I forgot what it was like to not be hungry." Tears dripped onto his chest, and he realized he must have started crying while he fed. "Thank you, thank you so much. Especially after I- thank you."

"I'm not gonna be cruel." Jim took his hand back, examining the wound. "I won't keep your basic needs away. I won't hurt you. I won't grab you without permission. I know what it's like to be powerless and vulnerable, okay? You know."

"I'm sorry." Kane had never meant it as much as he did right now. "I'm sorry for everything."

"Nothin' you can do about it now." Jim stepped away. "Get some rest. You need it."

Kane nestled into his blankets, full for the first time in years, warm in a way that didn't hurt.

Finally, finally safe.

tune in on sunday for a canon Kane & Jim chapter! taglist in reblog!

event: @whumpmasinjuly @gianttol @promptsforyourwhumpfic

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the-gt-fairy · 10 months

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Day 12: Video Games

Had an idea for a g/t puzzle/adventure game a while ago. The main mechanic would be able to shrink and grow to solve puzzles, get to new areas, and find secrets

Edit: I know what Minish Cap is I just didn't think it was that similar to my idea ajsfhdkj

#my art #sfw g/t #giant/tiny #g/t #gtjuly

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territorial-utopia · 10 months

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Dream

Dream on you funky moustache man, dream on Slow, lazy and sleepy mornings are the best...

#gtjuly #gtjuly2023 #gianttiny #sfwgt #gtfluff #giant/tiny #giant tiny #niart #dragon's lair #lovia #t

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reborrowing · 10 months

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GT July - Caught

sooo embarrassing to be a trained killer stopped by some random panicky teenager with a cup

#g/t #giant tiny #gt #gianttiny #gt art #gtjuly #gtjuly2023 #oc: ben #i think this is the first ive posted ben?#unwarranted tag #was torn between this and a fluffy flirty piece w coop and kayla for this prompt #under the counter

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neonthewrite · 2 months

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The Office Fae

The next prompt was Tangled, and I ended up with a brand new character for this one. He's fun so far. I'm enjoying his very gremlin energy. I hope you all like him too!

~~~

Life in an office building generally worked well for Simon, despite technically being a house fae. The rules could be fuzzy on that front, with so many humans coming and going every day. Sure, there wasn’t a singular family loving the place and cherishing their lives there, but a lot of humans from many families liked the building and their jobs there well enough to make the energy inviting. Something about flexible hours, good wages, and a solid benefits package made for a harmonious office with plenty of memories–some friendly, some dramatic, even some spicy memories.

Plus there was a vending machine. Simon came for the vibes originally, but he absolutely stayed for the vending machine. At a modest five and three quarter inches tall, he had easy access to a good variety of things in portions that lasted him days.

Another house fae rule he bent–it wasn’t precisely a bowl of cream left out for him specifically, but nobody could expect that these days. Keeping the vending machine stocked was close enough, and if the light bulbs and printer cartridges in the building all lasted longer than they should, well, Simon earned his keep. He probably saved them hundreds on the annual operations budget.

Work always slowed down around the end of winter, aside from some buzzing over in the accounting office. All the holiday parties were done and the potluck food all taken home from the break room fridges. Simon planned for it and handled it well, though things could get cold with the shorter hours and heat on less to make up for the emptier office.

To that end, Simon wintered in the ceiling of the server room. The servers, bulkier and taller than a human, stood clustered in a side room and were never turned off. Blinking lights of green and red and blue twinkled on each machine, colors filtering into the ceiling along with the ample warmth those hulking obelisks gave off.

With so much downtime, he found himself perched near an opening in the ceiling, a spot where the tile had broken off long ago, and watched the server lights flicker on the tangled mess of multicolored cables that ran between them. It was a game of his to trace each cable from end to end with his eyes, idly kicking his bare, grey-skinned feet (his skin had shifted to a tasteful, cool grey a few years ago after an office refresh had updated all the paint). Long, slender fingers absently braided silky hair the color of faded ballpoint ink while he scanned the cables with eyes reminiscent of the shocking, dreaded blue of a computer on its way out.

Most house fae took on colors in equal parts camouflage and defense. Simon would be tough to spot if he happened to be out in the open near a human, but if someone did see him, humans never liked seeing that blue. So his eyes would probably protect him.

Not that he ever intended to test that. As much as he liked his many many humans and their water cooler chatter, Simon was realistic. They wouldn’t like him much even if he shared their scale. All his features were a bit elongated, just enough to seem strange and other. He only wore flowing pants made of scrap fabric and he ate bugs sometimes. Humans would call him scary or freaky or any number of words they had for things they didn’t like, and if his eyes couldn’t scare them off he’d be in danger of a rolled up magazine or a dusty phone book.

He’d stayed hidden for a long time, and he anticipated many games of look-at-cables in his future, all without humans being a bother.

Of course, until they were a slight bother anyway. Simon paused his movements and tensed when the door opened abruptly. Light flooded in and he lost track of the cable he was tracing when he looked over, grateful for his higher vantage point and the human tendency to ignore background details.

Two figures stood there, one familiar and one not. One was Tom, a human whose limbs gangled a bit but whose middle had padded out after so many years in a desk job. His bald spot glowed with light from the hallway, and his rumpled t-shirt sported a band name Simon thought he recognized. From what Simon knew, Tom was every bit an IT master and a vital cog in keeping the office running smoothly. He didn’t have to dress any higher than casual.

The other human was a new face. A woman, probably younger than Tom by a couple decades. Her dark skin contrasted with his pale complexion. Her hair, coily and thick, grew longer atop her head though it was tapered close at the sides. She wore a smart blouse and slacks, which Simon immediately recognized as the sort of thing one wore to a job interview, or one’s first day at work.

Tom waved a hand at the servers whirring away in the room. “Servers in here. Probably not gonna need to be in here a ton, but y’know. If something needs a reset…”

The woman nodded and smiled faintly as she scanned the room. “What are the chances I can fix up some of those cables?”

She said it as a joke. Simon didn’t find it funny at all. Tom did. He laughed. “Now that I get someone to pass tasks like that along to, I imagine I can convince the bossman to let me schedule a maintenance day. Now, let’s get you some of your equipment…”

The door closed and the humans walked away, and Simon cared not at all for their conversation or the rest of the onboarding for this new IT interloper. She wanted to organize the cables, which simply would not do. Simon stalked back to his makeshift camp to get his pack.

This new hire was simply not a good fit, and he’d do what he could to stop her horrible plan.

#gtjuly #gtjuly2023 #mywriting #simon the office fae #gt #g/t #giant tiny

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