Zuxby (Writing Comms CLOSED 4/5)

@zuckabeezuxby.bsky.social

Aspiring writer and Size Shitpost Factory. Specializing in Unaware, but I can do other stuff! Adult writing content warning, no minors! *All characters are 18+ Patreon.com/ZuckabeeZuxby

Air-headed giant who, despite not actively going out of their way to squish micros, often fails to differentiate them from errant crumbs or mites, and doesn’t care nearly enough to inspect them further before wiping them away with their fingertip.

Giant who sees you rapidly dwindling atop their fingertip and decides to simply drop you atop whatever body part you had spent the bulk of the day “inadvertently” ogling. Tossed within the sea of undulating skin of their cleavage or dropped deep into the yawning darkness of their crack…

The life and death struggles taking place entirely within the confines of your ditzy friend's living room carpet. The mass death that occurs whenever their mile-spanning sneaker crashes down into the sprawling forest of fibers, screams silenced in the roaring impact…

Giants who are apathetic towards micros in the same way we are to gnats and mites. The idea they’d be squished *thoughtlessly*. A reflexive squish as they spot them scuttling across their table, or not even bothering to change stride as they notice one in the path of their shoe.

Multiple people trying to locate a tiny that had long since shrunken past their capacity to see—voices echoing on high as blurred titans rend the air with each frantic motion. They barely avoid being smeared beneath a falling palm, their screams unable to pierce the ambient din.

Air-headed ditz who cares *just* enough to attempt to be gentle with those “funny little specks” they occasionally find scuttling around their home, knowing they're at least sorta-sentient… But not nearly enough to sulk over the growing pattern of red dots on their clothing.

The adored trope of clumsy, well-meaning giants being a harbinger of death to the countless micros too insignificant to ever leave an interaction with them intact…

It’s crazy how many of my favorite aspects of extreme size are captured in this one totally non-fetish-focused Brawl Stars animation… The abrupt demise and sudden tonal shift… The almost darkly comedic swap to a mundane POV. The traumatized loved ones left in its wake…

Missing person cases coinciding with the sudden influx of strange bugs found scuttling around carpets and counters—squirming dots that crumble with the lightest bit of pressure, leaving small flecks of crimson. Some of them seem to almost…purposely scuttle towards you. Gross…

Isekaied into a size game but as nothing more than an unnoticed speck in the shrunken protagonist’s boots. Ground beneath his pale digits as he navigates the towering grasses, inundated in the scent of his exertion as he fights off insects and dodges footfalls…