sersgtdump-blog

[sersgtdump-blog]

So I'm sick again, and it has resulted in me feeling that rarest form of g/t-related fluffy-ness...

I actually want to be a tiny and be snuggled.

99 times out of 100 I prefer to be big, but right now, what with me being nauseous and tired and generally quite sick, I just want to be snuggled up against the chest of someone I love and just take a nice, long nap. That would be freaking awesome right now.

[sersgtdump-blog]

100% all-time favorite g/t trope of all time:

Tol is dating smol: Tol is actually a giant/shifter/kaiju/monster but has a human/human-sized form and is trying to find a good time to tell smol about their true form/powers but ends up having to transform/grow to save smol from a sudden dangerous situation (maybe they got jumped by some thugs, maybe something heavy is about to fall on them, maybe they fell off of a cliff, etc.) and the  A N G S T    E N S U E S.

From here the story can go in tons of directions: is smol now afraid of Tol? Do they actively address it/work through it or bottle it up and make the situation even worse? Does smol recognize that their bae isn't a monster/dangerous, but Tol has always been told that they are/shouldn't use their powers/their true form at all? Does smol help Tol work through that? So many angst and fluff possibilities, man...

This scenario will never get old to me, like, ever.

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Drabble: Melt My Heart

[Content/Trigger Warnings: Implied Transphobia, Implied Parental Abuse, Hypothermia mention, Murder mention, minor scene involving Blood]

Have another drabble, one mostly inspired by the recent hot weather we've been having here.

Herein is the tale of Nicole (nickname Nicki) a trans woman who goes visit her bae: a giant, ageless, shapeshifting ice elemental, and they snuggle, talk about stuff, and support one another. Enjoy.

It was boiling hot, the A/C was broken, and Nicole, tired of the heat, knew exactly where to go.

"Hup!"

Parking behind a small outcropping of trees and pulling the cooler out of the back of the car, Nicole slowly made her way up to the end of the forest path.

She casually hopped the fence, ignoring all signage, stepping onto the nature reserve with less than a thought and certainly no hesitation. She knew none of the rangers were patrolling up this way at this time of day, and as for any wildlife that might cause her trouble, well...

Even they knew not to mess with the Cold One's chosen.

Trudging through the thick forest brush (and uphill, no less) with the sun bearing down hard above and the humidity so high that not even the shade of the trees was enough to ease the pervasive, invasive warmth of the air, the exhaustion that had been plaguing her, Nicole wiped sweat from her brow, cursing this turn in weather.

This heat wave was making things difficult for everyone, but, luckily for her...

She had an escape...even if it was a bit out of the way.

"Thereeee we go."

Placing the cooler down beside her, the woman turned to the rock outcropping before her: made of marbled black and white stone weathered by time, it stood out amongst the forest around it.

Trees grew out of every crack and crevice in the low dome of stone, staking their claim upon a tomb, a prison old as time, upon this place that was clearly older than the forest itself, and the being within...

Even older.

"Alright, let's get this over with."

Drawing a large hunting knife from her belt without a single hint of hesitation, Nicole quickly cut a shallow slice across her palm, wincing slightly at the pain as she kept her fingers shut tight, the woman murmuring something in a low, yet well-pronounced tone.

It was an incantation, a request for entry, a relaxing of a spell of protection, of sealing, of safety, a request to come before the Cold One, spoken in a tongue now long dead. The woman smeared her blood onto the two-tone stone before her, writing out her name in ancient, nearly-forgotten runes.

It was the most elaborate equivalent to a door knock she had ever encountered, but magic was fickle and particular: nothing would get her in other than blood, and with her name scrawled across the ancient stone...

She was granted entry.

With a cacophonous crack, the stone before her ruptured, a crevice appearing before her, then closing back up without a trace the moment she stepped through, walking  into the dark cavern beyond, enveloping her in shadow.

Her eyes took time to adjust to the sudden darkness, the sudden change in light sources and reflection, the world within the stone tomb slowly revealing itself as her vision caught up with her surroundings.

The realm around her was much larger inside of the stone structure than outside: miles of long tunnels made of marbled white and black stone sprawled out before her, dotted with pools, streams, and ponds of frigid, electric blue water, lit by glowing, towering crystals of many hues.

Blue, white, and grey spires, outcroppings of crystal dotted and emerged from the winding caves, each emitting a welcoming glimmer of light, fluorescent like little crystalline lanterns, guiding her way towards the center of this sealed, secret realm.

The air was cold and dry, like the first wind of autumn, come to shake the first tired leaves from the trees, like the beginning of the end for summer and the warmer months, like the arrival of Winter and her kin, Autumn.

It was otherworldly, a complete shift from the world outside, yet soothing, filling the woman's tired, hot, humidity-filled lungs with cool, crisp air, relaxing her even as she walked closer and closer to what many would consider danger, up ahead.

Entering the main chamber of the tomb and placing her cooler down, Nicole was met with a wide, incredibly high-ceilinged cavern, crystals far larger and brighter than any yet seen looming like skyscrapers overhead, many bright pools of water dancing with their reflected light, and, sitting amongst those towering crystals...

An even more towering creature.

"Ah," it cooed, approaching, Nicole not moving an inch as footfalls that made the room shake came closer, not flinching in the slightest as a massive, man-shaped shadow fell over her, and not budging as giant fingers clamped around her.

She was lifted skywards in the creature's clutches, a massive, smiling maw closing in on her, the woman staring onward with calmness, bliss as those massive lips pulled in close, brushing against her skin...

And planting a cool, gentle kiss upon her head and neck, the being purring, lovingly:

"Greetings, Nicki."

"Hi sweetheart."

The woman tilted her head up, returning the towering giant's gentle kiss onto his upper lip, smiling as she felt his pulse quicken through his thin layer of ice-like skin, color visibly flushing across what she could see of his ice-white cheeks.

The Cold One may be a being that some would consider a god, a being of immense power and dangerous potential...but to her, he was just big ol' softie with built-in A/C.

"It is good to see you again, my chosen," the powerful elemental cooed, gently pulling the woman away from his face..and yes, he had definitely been blushing, the faintest tinges of light blue quickly fading from his cheeks as he smiled, simple joy visible across his (mostly) human face.

The Cold One was an elemental, from what Nicole understood: a being embodying an aspect of the natural world, an immortal entity of great power but amorphous form.

Elementals were creatures that, over time, developed their own appearance, their own personality based on their elemental makeup, their enviornment, and those they interacted with, shaped by them...

And, if his current form was anything to go by, the Cold One had been shaped strongly by his relationship with Nicole: his form was that of a human, but massive, easily over 100 feet tall, a sight that was not intimidating in the least...

Well, at least not to her.

Nicole smiled up at him, delighting as her smile was returned: it was so pleasant, seeing him smile.

She remembered the Cold One's form from the day when she had first stumbled across his realm: that once chaotic, spiky, bestial body had been a horror to behold, all sharp edges and frightening, shrill cries that made her skin crawl and her heart freeze.

But now his skin smooth, his flesh less like a frighteningly sharp explosion of spines made of ice and crystal, now soft to the touch, pliable and bouncy like actual human flesh, and his face...

Well, there was no doubt he was handsome, but, more importantly, she cared about the expression ON his face rather than just the visage itself.

He was always smiling in her presence, and his thunderous voice was always filled with kindness, always speaking gentle, quiet words.

Although capable of screams and cries that could roll through the sky for miles around like thunder, bringing raging blizzards and freezing sleet, the Cold One never raised his tone above a whisper for her, his glowing white eyes expressing so much care and protection despite their lack of pupils or iris, his fingers cool to the touch, made of living crystal and ice, yet never rough, never bitingly frigid, kept at a perfect temperature to keep her cool, comfortable...

But never cold.

Elementals were said to take on the form of whatever they felt closest to emotionally and spiritually at any given point in their eternal lifespan, and, looking up at her towering bae, seeing a gentle, near perfect human face staring back down at her...

Well, it was pretty clear who was responsible for his current form, and what the Cold One, Summoner of Ceaseless Snows, Lord of Winter, He Who Brings The Frost, held nearest and dearest above else.

"How are you doing, big guy?"

"I am well," cooed the elemental, reaching a few fingers up to gently pat and pet Nicole's head, the woman letting out a pleased sigh at the loving gesture.

"How are you, my chosen? Warm, I would assume," he chuckled, sitting back down, back pressed against a towering spire of luminescent crystal, gently resting his human bae on top of his knee, scooping the cooler up off of the cave floor and placing it beside her, continuing, "but how goes the rest of your life?"

"Things're fine," Nicole said with a shrug, popping open the cooler lid and withdrawing a bottle of pop that she quickly twisted open, taking a sip as the giant reached down as well, withdrawing a gallon of iced tea with the tip of his fingernail, carefully unscrewing and tipping the entire jug out onto his tongue as Nicole chuckled below, commenting:

"You enjoying that?"

The elemental nodded, immediately critiquing the beverage:

"Yes, I am, actually: this one is quite pleasant. Sweet but subtle and somewhat tangy. I enjoy it."

"I'll be sure to get more for next time, then."

Nicole took another sip of her drink, watching with no small amount of amusement as her bae, towering above her, a sheer force of nature, the embodiment the icy cold of the tundra, of blizzards and winter and sleet and frigid destruction attempted to get the last bit of iced tea out of a jug no bigger than his fingernail, tongue sticking out rather comedically as he focused on it, hoping for more.

"This isn't one of the expensive ones, was it?" he inquired, finally giving up as he placed the empty jug back into the cooler.

"No, it's pretty cheap."

A pleased smile crossed the giant's face, any guilt he was feeling about potentially draining his bae's resources dashed away, Nicole making a mental note: be sure to bring some more of that iced tea next time, he liked it.

It was difficult for Nicole to get gifts for her bae: what do you get for an immortal embodiment of nature itself? He had no use for jewelry, for food, for anything like that...but he did seem to enjoy sweet drinks, the woman often stopping by the grocery store to stock up on pop, iced tea, fruit punch, and whatever other sugary beverages she could find for him.

It always made him happy, and that's what mattered to her.

Again turning his attention to his lover, the Cold One inquired:

"Is your family treating you well?"

No response from the woman, only uncomfortable silence.

"Nicki, is your fam-"

"No."

"Mm...your coworkers?"

The woman sighed, looking up into those glowing white eyes with a look of reluctant resignation and knowing: there was no getting around him on this topic, was there?

"It's nothing to worry about, big guy."

"I am not worried about it," the Cold One huffed, a cold burst of air flowing out of his nostrils, chilling the air substantially for a few seconds, continuing: "I am, as always, prepared to defend your honor, my chosen. And, more importantly..."

He leaned down, gently planting a kiss on top of her head, lowering his voice to just the right volume that, even with his massive maw just overhead, his powerful voice did not rise above a loving, concerned whisper to her ear:  

"...to comfort my beloved. Come, Nicki, tell me what has ailed you in the interim since our last rendezvous."

The was a moment of silence, Nicole wordlessly screwing the cap back onto her pop, placing it back down into the cooler and lying back on the Cold One's knee, closing her eyes...

It took a moment for her to speak again, but when she did it was as if flood gates had been opened, her words flowing freely despite the pain they carried with them:

"Dad threatened the neighbors again."

"Still about the son?"

"Yes."

"Did he speak to you about it?"

"Of course he did, said the same crap as usual, too. Just with more swearing this time, somehow."

"...I see."

"Insisted on me going to church with him again, too."

The creature sighed, scowling, long, sharp teeth of light blue crystal showing from behind his lips, a burst of icy air flowing forth from his mouth as he growled:

"He would do well if that boy slapped some sense into him: I hardly imagine your loathsome progenitor would deign to call a man by the terms of the opposite gender should he feel his Wrath."

Nicki shook her head, trying to hold back tears:

"Honestly, I think violence would just justify him, at least in his head."

"I personally doubt it: your father is a coward. Cowards always back away from even the smallest show of force-"

"Yea, a coward with a shotgun in the basement, an alcohol problem, and a history of violence. I don't want Terrance to be in danger..."

Or herself, for that matter.

The Cold One sighed, gently reaching a finger down, frowning, a pained expression on his face as Nicki reached out, clinging to it, the elemental feeling hot tears dripping from her reddened eyes down onto his flesh as she sat there, in turmoil and in fear, suffering.

Her situation enraged him to no end: what kind of being saw another of their kind suffering, cursed to live in a body contrary to who they were, and proceeded to threaten and harm them even further, regard them as less than human?

A monster, he was sure, and one he would have no qualms about cursing in return.

"Were it not for the magic that keeps me tied to this forest, my chosen, I should like to see your father frozen in place, never to threaten a single soul ever again."

This got Nicole to whip her head up, staring at her partner with a somewhat panicked look:

"You'd kill him?!"

The Cold One huffed again, filled with righteous rage, elaborating:

"Perhaps not kill...merely curse and encase in eternal ice, leaving him alive to watch you and the world move on, grow and change, leaving his cruelty and violence to languish within a tomb akin to my own. I should like for him to observe as history proves him wrong and those he once spewed bile at become happier and more joyous than he could ever hope to be" the elemental growled, smiling triumphantly, concluding, "I think that would be fitting."

Nicki shook her head, struggling to convey her emotions to the towering being above: as much as she feared and hated her father...

She didn't wish violence on him.

She didn't wish violence on ANYONE.

She was so tired of violence, tired of hatred and fear and her own body.

She just wanted to be herself, be understood as the woman she was, and not have to hear such awfulness, feel such resistance and cruelty and struggle...

"I don't think I want to see anyone hurt, hon," Nicole sighed, exasperated, burying her tear-streaked face against the Cold One's fingerprint, feeling the cool, smooth touch of his skin against her's.

There were few places in the world that she'd rather be than here, gently cradled in the hand of the being she loved, even if the both of them were trapped: she in her body, and him in this forest, in this rocky tomb.

Foul as the situation for both of them was, however, she smiled as massive lips came down, kissing her atop her head, the giant whispering:

"I know you don't, my chosen, and that notion is one of the many reasons I love you so: that you look even at your worst enemy and cannot bear to wish ill upon them. That kind of mercy, that kind of kindness...it is rare indeed."

He kissed her again, gently lifting her head  up, brushing away her tears with a touch that most would assume he was incapable of, given his size and nature.

He used to be a creature of bitter, endless coldness and harsh, unforgiving blight, after all.

He had once roamed the earth, stalking whatever prey he may, viewing humans with indifference...and, after he was sealed here, with utmost RAGE.

His form had been monstrous then: sharp, made of jagged tufts of piercing points of crystal and long, thick icicles of ice, and when the first human he had seen in centuries had entered his domain, hand bloodied, a ragged old book held in her hands, a look of fear and awe on her face as she encountered the being her ancestors had sealed, trapped here long ago...

He had considered killing her.

Thankfully, either loneliness or mercy flickered through his mind in that moment, and like plains thawed by spring, like soil made moist and fertile by dripping icicles and slushy snow piles in springtime heat...

His heart had melted, and hadn't frozen back up yet.

Snapping out of his memories, the elemental turned his attention to the woman, lying splayed out on his knee.

"Nicki, my love," he cooed, "may I see your hand?"

The woman held out the hand she had cut for the ritual of entry, the Cold One gently clamping it between his thumb and index finger, focusing his mind on the clotted blood, the sheered flesh and the pain therein...

And like freshly-melted snow swallowed up, absorbed by newly-thawed soil, the pain and injury seeped out of Nicole, and into her titanic lover.

"There," the Cold One stated, quite pleased with his work as Nicole pulled her hand away, cut gone and completely healed (if a little cold).

"Y'know," the elemental continued, gently petting the woman on top of her head, smiling down at her as he admitted, "I was never capable of healing anyone until I met you, Nicki."

"Really?"

"Mhmmm!"

The titan adjusted his position, scooping his partner up into his hand and bringing her gently to his chest, the woman nestling against his cold skin and, as the frosty being sighed, she heard it...

His heart.

It didn't beat like a human heart, instead sounding like a hollow container of glass, clinking like the sound of ice cubes in a cup.

It was a pleasant familiar noise to her, soothing...and she knew it beated only for her.

"You bring such good, such kindness into the world, my chosen," the giant continued, feeling his icy heart pound in his stony chest, "you taught a being as old and bitter as I how to heal, how to end suffering and pain instead of perpetuating it..."

He gently ran his fingers over her back,  holding close a small, fragile creature that, had you told him all those many long years ago he would one day spare, one day fall for, he'd have frozen you to the spot for insulting him so.

How times change.

How people change.

How HE had changed.

Changed in her image, taught that of all traits that humans had, of all the things he had believed they were, that there was something more, something there deep beneath, something that she had then given to him, a gift beyond compare...

Compassion, kindness, and love.

"You are more powerful than you will ever know, my chosen, and, one day, all your foes will know that strength. You will be stronger than all of them, and they will see the strength you have had all along..."

The Cold One sighed, a deep sense of pride and affection swelling inside of him as he held his beloved. Yes, there truly was no being more noble, no being more strong and beautiful and inspiring than her, his chosen.

She deserved so much more, and, someday, perhaps...

"...and I hope that, when that day comes, I shall be there to see it in full."

Nicole didn't respond verbally, only gently pressing against the Cold One's chest, taking his eloquent, hopeful words to heart: it was nice, having someone believe in her, be here for her.

He was so kind, so loving, and although he had much to learn, was driven by his emotions, still somewhat wild like the frigid blizzards and frozen tundra he embodied...

She hoped one day he would be free: he deserved the world, too.

"Thanks, big guy," she cooed, soaking up the comfortable chill rising off of his skin, enjoying the coldness after so many days of unbearable heat.

"...I might sleep for a bit, if that's okay with you."

"Certainly," the Cold One replied, laying himself down onto the cavern floor, carefully placing the cooler aside and making sure he wasn't making Nicki uncomfortable, the woman already letting her eyes slide shut, letting out a long, tired sigh.

"Thanks," she yawned, feeling her towering beloved hum contentedly, happy to be holding her close, that she was happy, comfortable, and would finally be getting some well-deserved rest.

"Sleep well, my chosen," the Cold One purred, gently running his fingers along her back, letting his own eyes slowly slide shut as well, just as at peace, as calm and comfortable as she, wanting to be nowhere else in the world than by her side.

"Rest thee well."

[sersgtdump-blog]

Tinies who rest on Giants noses and admire their big beautiful eyes.

[sersgtdump-blog]

All Sizes

Bruce and Hulk meet Borrower! (Y/N)

______________________________________________

Bruce lundged, and caught you in his hand before you fell off the slippery table, and hit the ground.

He could feel you quivering in his hand, slowly he brought them up to check on them.

“Are, are you ok?” He whispered, holding you in his open hand.

You shook, and raised your head to meet his eyes. “I… I’m fine.” You breathed out. Bruce pushed his glasses up his nose, and bit his lip.

“Ok… I’m going to put you down now.” You take a small breath in, you could still run away. But instead of lowering you to the floor he stands, to take a few steps away from the table. Instead of the floor he puts you on the counter. You gulp, and back up when you’re placed on the surface.

“My names Bruce, what’s yours?”

You eye his hands nervously. “…(Y-y/N).”

“Oh….That’s an interesting name…” He shifted in his seat.

You frown slightly, it wasn’t that different. What was he talking about? “Umm…”

“Oh, er— hey,” Bruce drums the counter with his hands. “You want these right” he steps away for a second, and grabs your tool bag off the table you fell off. “Here you go..”

You take the bag gratefully, and relax a little. “Thank you.”

“Your welcome.” Bruce scratches his head awkwardly. “Um, well…. I’ll leave you be then—”

“Wait!” You cry. After some digging around in your bag, you pull up your broken hook. “I’m… I’m stuck.”

Bruce tilts his head. “Huh?”

“I .. I can’t get down..” you explain.

“Oh.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks as bruce offers his hand to you to step on. You do so quickly, and he lowers you to the ground.

“Ok… I’ll see you erm, around?” Bruce asks hesitantly.

You look at him. He kneels before you and seems almost, if not more, nervous than you! You nod. “Yeah, I’ll see you..”

He gave you a small smile. “Ok.”

You smiled back, and turned to walk away, unafraid.

***

That was some time ago, you looked back on your first encounters with Bruce with some embarrassment.

“Can you please pass me chip (Y/N)?”

You hurried across the surface of the tabke and grabbed a flat green piece of technology. “This thing?” You asked holding it up.

“Yeah, thanks.” You passed ot over to him,and he inserted it into the machine. “There we go, now we juts—” suddenly from the devise a great bolt of electricity shot out. You can litteraly see the path of the electricity as it courses through his body. He collasped silently on the floor, his body, steaming.

“Bruce!” You shouted and ran over to the edge. “Bruce are you ok?”

He squirms, clenching his fist, and baring his teeth, on the floor. A low groan crawls out. Before your eyes, you watch the meek scientist turn green—

And grow!

Gasping, you staggered back to the wall, as his lumbering form stands. His head swivels around, he shuffles atound irritably like a provoked animal looking for something to fight. Its not long before he turns his body in your direction and sees you. His eyes seem

His head jerks around and his eyes stare you down. For a few moments, neither of you move.

His hand twitches forward and you let out a piercing scream. It was the wrong move to make, he in turn let’s out a roar. Sinking to your knees, you curl in defensively a few terrified tears spilling out.

You were going to die!

With your head pressed against your knees, you didn’t see the look of guilt that crossed over his face. He shuffled forward towards the counter, and lowered a giant finger towards you.

You jerk at the touch, but don’t even bother looking as an enormous hand circles around you, lifting you up.

“Hey,” a rumbly voice grunts. You can hear Bruce in the voice, even though it sounds nearly nothing like him.

Gradually, your lift your head. He looks down at you a bit curiously, and shifts his hand slightly to look at you.

“..{Y/N}…?” He asks. You barely nod. He gaffaws, his face breaking into a wide playfull grin. “Tiny!”

You wiped your tears away, and sniff. “Yeah…”

He snorted and set his hand on the table. Well not on it, but hovering closely over it. You climb out and step back to look at him. “..Bruce?”

“Hulk.” He states.

You blink. “Where’s… Where’s Bruce?”

He looked slightly annoyed. “He gone, hulk here— meet {Y/N}!”

“Oh.” Was all you could say, you pursed your lips, not sure of what to do.

“Puny man come back later.” Hulk nodded.

You sigh. “Alright, thank you,…..Hulk.”

He grins again, though this time it’s gentler. “Hulk hold tiny?” He pulled his hamd towards you. You flinched, but when the hand didn’t jab, or touch you you relaxed….slightly.

“O-k, be careful.”

Hulk nodded eagerly, and stood as still as stone as you got on, holding onto his thumb for balance. The vein pulsed like a heart.

Hulk raised you up. “{Y/N}… Like hulk?”

You smike weakly. This was a lot to take in, but you nodded. “Y-yeah, I like you buddy.”

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Heyo! Hope you liked it!

@sammigruber @sammie-skele-turtle @gatlily @tiefling-trickery @nightmarejasmine @misfitsgalaxygt @obwjam @bee-wrecker @nerdqueenkat @tinyliltina @queenofconspiracies @dc41016

[sersgtdump-blog]

Currently sitting in my basement with two fans on me, running a fever, and trying to stay out of the heat.

Lemme tell ya: being sick + it being way too hot outside is not a good combination...

That being said, me being out of it usually results in fluffy G/t thoughts in my brain, so it's not all bad.

*flings arms wide open as they sit, flopped out on the basement floor* yes, brain, bring me all the fluffy G/t thoughts you can muster. I need them.

[sersgtdump-blog]

Tbh one of my favorite G/t scenarios will always be when a smol is in danger/being held captive by a cruel, malicious giant only to escape, potentially getting injured/incapacitated somehow, and then being found by an even bigger, scarier giant who turns out to be a huge cinnamon roll that just wants to help/protect the tiny and get them back to health.

Idk man, my brain just takes the ol' "there's always a bigger giant" trope and adds this thing where the bigger/the more monstrous a giant is in my writing, the more of sweetheart they are (whether they outwardly show it or not). 

Idk, just something I've noticed in my writing.

[sersgtdump-blog]

Drabble: Duties Unfulfilled

[Content/Trigger Warnings: Suicidal Ideation, Death mention, Gore mention, Blood mention]

Behold: my first post on this new blog! Huzzah! 

Regardless, here's a drabble based off a post I saw in the G/t tag months ago...and now can't find for the life of me.

It was a concept post from someone talking about a scenario where a giant king/queen would carry around their subjects and their servants would stitch up their clothes, polish their crown, etc.

I can't find the post scrolling back in the tag and it would appear that I didn't like it on my main blog when I saw it, so it eludes me: if anyone  knows the post I'm talking about, please submit the link/direct me to it and I'll add it here!!!

Regardless, here's a drabble inspired by that post: listen, readers, to the tale of Adalia, one of the many servants of the mighty Friern, towering ruler of the kingdom of Rothime, as she encounters and faces her greatest fear of all...

The very royal she is bound by duty and honor to serve.

Stepping into the throne room, she tried to hide her fear.

All the other servants were used to this, so completely at ease with the situation, at ease with the work that needed to be done, work they, just like herself, had been taught and trained to do from a very young age...

But the fear had never left Adalia.

Ever.

She kept her eyes focused downwards, clutching her basket full of cleaning supplies, towels, brushes, needles and thread, fine scented oils and other such accoutrements in her white-knuckled hands...

Please, let this be over quick.

One of the other servants turned to her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder: nearly everyone in the group knew she was still a little skiddish about this, and they weren't afraid to support her, strange though her behavior was to them.

"Th-Thanks," she muttered, though her comrade barely had hardly any time to properly reply as a familiar, thundering voice filled the hall.

Everyone in attendance, from the servants, to the guards, to Adalia herself knelt, the woman trembling as her ruler spoke...

"Greetings, friends," cooed the creature before them, their form reclined back against the solid black stone of their towering throne, the bright gold of their crown and jewelry glinting in the morning sun, which filtered in through the vast stained glass windows of the hall, filling the high-ceilinged throneroom with a rainbow of refracted color...

Not that that did anything to hide nor lessen the monstrosity of the king, who shifted in their seat resting one sharply-clawed hand under their chin as they smiled, revealing massive, curved fangs.

Their crimson, slit-pupiled eyes glared down at their gathered servants, their taloned feet tapping on the stone floor as they spoke, casually:

"It is good to see you all again. I look forward to your work, as always...come, serve your king."

With the order to begin finally given, the servants rose, approaching the giant monarch from various angles as they got to work.

Some clambered up ladders, carved meticulously into the sides of the stone throne, others making their way up the beast's own legs, meticulous hands searching for chips in the royal's scattered black scales, for cuts and bruises in the pale, human-like skin between outcroppings of scales, each servant tending to each wound with loving, tender care.

One servant sat in each of the king's hands, carefully examining each fingerprint, each claw for injury or imperfection, scrubbing and smoothing and polishing away, two more servants lifted all the way up to the ruler's ornate golden crown, polishing the many gems studded across it, singing a chipper tune as the titan sat, calmly enjoying the attention.

It had been well over a millennium now since the kingdom of Rothime had created the bloodline of kings.

Back then, forces of darkness had been primed to overtake everything, emerging from the badlands just outside of the small nation's border, and so man had merged with beast, to save both in kind.

The most noble of warriors in the land were merged with the last of the dragons through powerful magic, resulting in towering, half-human, half-monster giants, loomig above even the largest of foes, capable of fighting back any for that dared to attack the kingdom and put the good citizens of Rothime in danger, using both their massive size and strength and the powerful magicks innate to their draconian blood.

Over many long centuries, many types of the rulers had come and gone: ranging from those as short as 20 feet to those as massive as 100 feet in height, with scales and skin of vastly different colors and shine, and diverse magicks to go with them...

The line of Rothime's giant rulers was as long as it was varied, battle-hardened, and, above all else, kind.

Nary had a citizen been put in harm's way since the first king, golden-scaled and filled with the powrtful magicks of Light had driven back the forces of evil with righteous might...

And so the people had sworn, of their own volition, that when not fighting the many dangers that came from beyond the border for them, they would wait upon their king or queen, would ensure that the monarch's every need was met, their every wish granted, their every blemish and wound tended to...

It was the least they could do.

The royalty's Servants came from long, noble lineages themselves, a child chosen from each family each generation to be the luckiest one, dedicated to serving their ruler personally their entire life, and Adalia had been-

"You there."

"E-Eh?!"

The woman jumped, looking up, feeling the king's crimson gaze piercing into her as she looked up from her basket, still standing in her position on the floor as her fellow servants worked away above.

"Have you no task today?"

It took the woman a moment to respond, gulping down the shriek rising in her throat as she stood there, clamping her basket like it was a lifeline, her knuckles white, shaking from the exertion.

Though many had come before them, this king was different: where before even the largest ruler of Rothime had loomed at a mere 100 feet tall, this one far exceeded that, easily upwards of 150 feet tall.

Their black scales added another layer of subtle horror, as well: although many a monarch had come and gone that harbored Darkness magic within them, none before the mighty Freirn had wielded it with such deadly precision and destructive potential.

Darkness had been used to defend Rothime many a time before, it was true, but superstition about that most mysterious of elements still held, and added a layer of intimidation to Friern's appearance that even the most steadfast of servants occasionally commented on...

That, and one more thing usually made the rounds in gossip and hushed tones: it was rare that a ruler of Rothime strayed far from the titles of king or queen...but never before had there been one that had claimed BOTH.

Friern, the first royal highness to be both king and queen, man and woman, protector and guard to all peoples of Rothime...

And most powerful ruler of all.

"N-No, your h-h-highness, I am wi-without a task today."

Adalia had hoped that this would allow her to leave her post, but she knew that was not how it worked: if a servant was given no task by the king's advisors in the morning, it usually meant that it was now up to the ruler to decide what they would like done for them.

"...hmm. Alight to my side: search my cape for tears."

"Y-yes, my liege."

The woman made her way for the ladder carved into the creature's throne, making her way up slowly and carefully, basket carried up with her, hung over her arm as she ascended.

Clothing repair was always seen as a somewhat boring, menial task: so much more coveted were the jobs like crown polishing, claw maintenance, and skin mending...but, for Adalia, there was a slight comfort in knowing Friern's attention would be elsewhere.

Settling down on top of the king's thigh, she got to work, placing her basket down and gently pulling the heavy, lush velvet of their cape across her own lap to begin searching it for cuts, holes, any loose threads, the woman trying not to sweat, not to falter underneath their heavy, powerful gaze.

Adalia knew that Friern were going easy on her: of all the tasks given to servants such as herself, repairs on a largely decorative piece of clothing were at the lowest point of the hierarchy of the monarch's needs, and that, essentially, this was a job for someone with nowhere else to go, no better job to be given...

That, or no greater job that the king saw fit to give.

She shuddered as she worked, pleased as the king's attention quickly turned away from her, focusing instead on the others, allowing her to continue her work with a greater sense of calm.

Could it be that Friern thought of her as being useless, giving her a task as low as this?

She wasn't a bad servant, she knew she was capable of handling any and all of these tasks well...but it was her fear that always set her back, slowed her work, made her hands shake and her mind race when it should be focused.

She pulled another length of the king's heavy cape across her lap, sewing up a few more minor holes, eventually spotting a few of her fellow servants stepping away, moving back down the throne's sides as they completed their tasks, Adalia knowing better than to move from her position as they started to leave.

She had been trained from birth to tend to whoever sat upon the throne, and, yet, ever since the day she had met her monstrous monarch she had been unable to shake her fear of them.

When the others came to Friern's side, tending to claws with flecks of caked blood from lumbering, vicious beasts of evil, mended cuts and shattered scales, a few servants even stepping into their mouth on occasion, picking away at the cursed flesh of some invading monster still stuck to their fangs, Adalia's fellow servants were pleased, knowing that their king had protected them from powerful, dangerous forces, and that they had the honor of helping their king recover from such battles...

But all she saw were small, fragile creatures, mere inches away from being sliced open upon giant claws, crushed under careless talons, gobbled up between massive fangs, and other such horrors.

She knew Friern would never do such things, but the idea of this docile yet towering being suddenly deciding to indulge in such horrors, the servants helpless, unable to fight back, both physically and through their expected servitude and submission to their ruler's desires, well-

"That is all today, friends," came the thunderous voice of the monarch, Adalia's head whipping up and around to see her fellow servants all gathered before the king on the ground below, finished with their tasks.

Friern's claws happily tapped on the armrests of their throne as they continued, pleased:

"I shall see you all tomorrow: thank you for your stunning work, friends. As always."

With that, the other servants bowed and left, Adalia knowing better than to leave her station until the king ordered her to do so, and, as if to confirm this conviction,  Friern purred down to her:

"Stay right where you are. I have something to discuss with you."

Adalia tried to hide how pale her skin had turned, how completely drained of blood and courage her face was as she nodded, not daring to look up, only glancing upwards again when she heard the sound of metallic footfalls striding away...

The guards.

Friern had sent the guards away.

"There," cooed the draconic titan, a pleased, powerful tone in their voice that made Adalia's skin crawl as she realized she was now entirely alone with them.

"Now," Freirn mused, a long, black tongue emerging from their maw for a moment as they spoke, "Miss Adalia, was it?"

"Y-Yes, my liege?"

There was a moment of silence, Adalia attempting not to whimper as the king's shadow fell more heavily upon her, their voice much closer, much louder now as they leaned their head down over her, voice rumbling in her ears, even as they whispered:

"You have been having some trouble doing your work, yes?"

"Y-yes, my l-li-liege."

She was still, needle, thread, and spool gripped, white-knuckled, in her hands, the woman fighting the hot tears that were starting to form in her eyes as she felt the massive ruler's breath upon her skin, coming down from above as they spoke.

"I can smell your fear, servant," the royal said, flatly, "and I have smelt it for a good long time, now. I am no stranger the such scents, but it baffles me to sense it from one of your bloodline. I know your kin well: your parents both served my predecessor well, and I know you have both the capability and the drive to fulfil your duty with great ablomp. So, tell me, Miss Adalia..."

She froze, hearing their claws clicking on the black stone of their throne, high above her.

"...what is it that you're afraid of?"

The spool of thread in the woman's hand was shaken loose, dropping to the fabric below with a soft bounce, tears streaming down the woman's face, certain she was being set up for a fall, that she would go missing this very moment, that no servant who couldn't maintain their work for the one being they lived to serve would be permitted to continue on existing, wouldn't be punished by the very being she was meant to serve...

But she couldn't lie, not even with death itself awaiting her up on the vast, sharp, and meticulously-cleaned fangs of the monarch above, and taking a deep breath, she yelled out the truth, damning though it may be:

"...y-you, my liege!"

"...what?"

"I-I'm afraid of YOU!"

The woman braced herself against the floor of fabric beneath her, barely staying coherent as the rush of a released secret and the dread of an inevitable end rolled through her, Adalia trying to remain calm as the beast above surely aimed their jaws for a takedown...

But no such violent release came, no such gorey end, and, as Adalia watched, the shadow of the king's head over her receded, the woman making a cautious glance upward to see the looming figure sitting back up in their throne, one clawed hand over their mouth, looking away from her, out the window beyond.

"...afraid of me, you say?"

They inhaled deeply, then sighed, shallowly, then chuckled, hollowly.

"Hmmm, I suppose I underestimated you in a way, Miss Adalia."

The draconic titan shook their head, continuing:

"Here I was, convinced that your fear and shaky work was the result of some issue away from here: some problem at home, some medical issue perhaps, some need going unmet in your life, in your health, some bad association this place, this work brought to mind, perhaps...but instead, I've left you, day in, day out, working in close proximity with a being you fear so clearly, so deeply, myself too blinded by tradition, by expectation to see it..."

Adalia refused to look skyward, confused by the monarch's words, uncertain of the veracity of their statements, until-

"I've failed you, servant, and you have my utmost apology."

The woman finally lifted her head up, watching as the concerned, mortified face above her turned even more so, Friern's voice lowering into a quiet, sympathetic whisper:

"It's okay, there's no need to cry."

The woman flinched back as a massive hand reached towards her sobbing, shaking form, a long claw held out in her general direction, arcing closer until-

"Eep!"

It rested underneath her chin, quickly joined by the softest and gentler of pats on top of her head, giant fingertips so close to massive claws, yet not a single one came close to grazing any part of her body, the king's gentle touch and reassurances mirroring the ones she received daily from her fellow servants.

"I promise you, friend," Friern cooed, "you are as safe with me as any other citizen, as any other denizen of this mighty kingdom I have sworn to protect. I can assure you that, despite my appearance and inclination towards the shadows, I am no more a threat to you than a fly is to a dragon."

Adalia looked up, her gaze this time locking onto their eyes, seeing...

Kindness.

Kindness, understanding, and, most striking of all, regret.

Genuine, sorrowful regret: had they actually meant what they said, feeling as though they had failed her by not realizing her fear?

She looked away, leaning back against the fingers that were around her, feeling rather shaken, her body unsteady, ready to collapse from the emotional strain that had been building all these years, dashed away in a moment, not upon angry, fanged jaws, or violent, curved claws...

But upon kind words, and an even kinder touch.

"I will do what I can to make you more comfortable with your work, Miss Adalia: tell me, what task do prefer most while tending to me?"

"I...I-I'm not..."

There was a gentle chuckle, followed by another gentle pat on the head from the giant monarch.

"Hmmm, no need to rush, I suppose. Simply inform me when you decide, dear Adalia."

Friern took in a deep breath, a few wisps of shadowy, black flame flickering out from between their jaws as they continued, determined to make things right:

"Neither of us are in a position to escape nor neglect our roles, our duties...but the least I can do is make this more comfortable for you."

Again locking eyes with Friern, Adalia finally, shakily smiled up at her king, a sight they had not seen before, and which struck them like lightning out of the blue.

A new time had come, a metamorphosis of fear into the strength to grow, change, and, perhaps with time...

Even the chance for Adalia, fearful servant to the mighty Friern, to love her work again.

~~~

The other servants knew better than to comment on the situation: poor Adalia had it bad enough already.

They would come in every day, and like clockwork, she would be assigned to clothes-mending duty.

At times, many of them were optimistic: perhaps Adalia was particularly good at mending Friern's apparel, and that's why she was ordered to work on such things every day.

Maybe the king was taking pity on her, others speculated, although, if that were the case, the king was far kinder than any that had come before them, for every day Adalia would still be working after all the others were done, and Friern never seemed to be concerned about such a slow pace from such a well-bred servant...

Regardless of the rumors and gossip that flowed between them, the consensus was unanimous:

Poor Adalia: at least the king was kind to her.

Little did all those judging souls know, however, that Adalia and Friern were up to much more than what they appeared to be.

"Did you see Hira today?" inquired Friern, staring down at Adalia, sitting alone with them on their lap as she continued mending their cape, chatting with them one morning, long after the others had already finished their work and been sent away.

"I did: I cannot imagine how one could be so pleased, dancing around and practically frolicking like that whilst cleaning your teeth."

"She does have a certain fondness for such tasks, that is certain."

Both the monarch and the servant chuckled, enjoying the peace and calm that came from the two of them being able to be so informal with each other.

The throne room was empty of the servants, of the guards, no one else present as the two of them relaxed, Friern flexing their claws, noting the fine stitchwork and bandaging done on the many cuts they had attained in a recent skirmish with a hydra, Adalia carefully cleaning the remnants of the beast's venom out of the king's cape, patching up holes and tears as she went, commenting:

"I could never do that kind of work, you know."

"What, cleaning my teeth?"

"Yes, it's far too fr-frightening to me. No offense my liege, but I doubt I could ever be comfortable getting that close to so many large, sharp fangs."

"Hmmm, I see...a pity, that."

Adalia looked upwards, raising an eyebrow at her king as they looked through the window, thinking.

"What makes you say that, my liege?"

The monarch was quiet for a moment, then chuckled, explaining:

"Hmm, I would very much like to get you close to my mouth one of these days, but I suppose it's not meant to be."

That got Adalia to raise an eyebrow, asking:

"What purpose would getting me close to your mouth serve, my liege?"

The towering monarch shrugged, a soft smile on their face as their cheeks slightly flushed.

"Oh, no purpose at all, dear Adalia."

"...I see."

Returning to her work, Adalia leaned over their cape again, her hands moving deftly and carefully as she continued her work, neither flinching away nor particularly caring as the shadow of the king's head fell upon her, their breath felt across her skin as she worked, both sensations now common to her, comfortable and none the least bit stressful as she worked away, focused.

She knew that they occasionally liked to watch her work, finding her deft stitching and fine handiwork quite fascinating to watch-

"Mwah!"

"AHHH!"

Adalia shrieked, nearly flinging her spool and thread across the king's thigh as a pair of giant, gentle lips planted a sweet, short kiss atop her head, the monarch gently cooing, sweetly, kindly:

"There, that's I wanted you near my mouth for. Apologies if it was startling, dear Adalia."

Speechless, the woman attempted to return to her work, blushing beet red, stuttering and attempting to hide the smile across her face as she looked down at the cloth before her, replying:

"N-Not at all, my liege."