N is for No.
“No” is what a man might say to a giantess when she makes her way into a city without a care for the streets her giant steps crack, the cars she crushes underneath her heedless soles, the people she terrifies. When her purpose is destructive, he intercedes for those that are weak, and meets her path. He waves his arms to try to gain her attention, and says, “No! Stop! Get off the streets, move along, beat it!” It’s a tall order.
“No” is what he says when he’s decided to do what’s right. He’s no simpering weakling that mops the ground she walks on with thoughtless adoration. His knees might feel weak by the way the earth shakes, but his respect is earned by her good will, and a lack thereof only means he’ll puff up his little chest, gather his determination and courage, and march out to do what he must to make her see that her actions have consequences.
Well, they should have consequences anyway.
A sensible giantess, as used as she is of thinking little of everything and everyone around her, will bend low and strain to listen to his little squeaks, and know that such a man measures up… to her ankle, but to the heavens as well, in valor and awareness of responsibility.
“No!” is also what a little shrunken man might say on days like these, when reattaching buttons to delicate blouses with a needle as big as a lance, polishing shoes as large as monuments, wiping the smudges off prongs and precious stones and jewelry, become soft, curved, gentle, womanly tasks; shrinking chores; miniaturizing duties that speak of his infinitesimal size.
“No!“ he says.
“No?” she asks.
“You heard me. No.”
“As you wish.”
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*When I saved the image above by SpawnGTS, I neglected to save the title, as it is my habit. If anyone knows it, please let me know what it is, so I may update the image caption. Thank you!