Prompt from paletterider on Tumblr for a canyinn fic: 'Well, how about some strange giant people ritual for Finn to go through to court Canyon?' I wrote this on the spot!

Disclaimer: I don't own Adventure Time and make no profit from this work.


Finn whined, wiggling his way into the grass skirt and pushing the hat off him after spending a few minutes inside it. "I'm too small for most of this stuff."

"It's proper ritual and social function and the right way to do things," Canyon said, her face as stoic and calm as ever; if she was kidding or messing with him, it was totally unclear. "Seriously. It totally is."

Finn pouted. The edge of an enormous cloth cape, big enough on him to be a toga, started slipping off one round and pink shoulder. He hastily tugged it up as Canyon's impassive gaze became rather more… focused than normal, and he pouted harder because it made her smile.

Finn tried to remember if giants had rituals. His brow furrowed as he thought back to that one pink giant he ran across every so often (who was more of a bullying jerk than anything), Billy himself, and of course Canyon.

A random enemy, his hero that he knew little about the personal life of, and his new girlfriend. That wasn't much to go on about their culture, really.

"Are you sure I have to do this?" Finn said again, almost pleading. "I don't like this social rule stuff…!"

Canyon raised an eyebrow at that, thin and dark against her skin and her lips arching very slightly downward in the faintest of frowns. She leaned downwards, looming over Finn; he was abruptly very aware that he was barely half as tall as her leg, and a good deal skinnier. She was so big, and in the presence of women Finn's usual boundless bravado invariably deserted him; around a woman so large, it was even worse. He cowered, just a little, and her voice boomed quietly (somehow, he had no idea how Canyon could do that), "You serious or not about me?"

His voice was a whisper, a little faint cry. It was childish, weak, and he hated himself for it, but she somehow encouraged him just by looking. He said, weakly but with just a trace of frimness enough to surprise him at his own honestly, he said a tiny affirmative.

"Can't hear you too well…?"

A croak, small and quiet, boyish. A boy sound, yes.

"C'mon. Speak up."

"Y-yeah!"

And Canyon nodded; she was reserved, her emotions just as calm and slow as her expressions, and so the visible reactions meant the most, and her warm smile made him almost fall over with a violent blush.

And now Canyon was talking, patient and calm and her voice moving like a rainstorm. "My people, Billy's people, we're nomads. We don't have a kingdom, we don't have lands of our own. We're too big to really settle on a land and stay there without needing five times what small people need. We don't have a place to call home. We haven't had one since before we started keeping records so we'll always remember things. So we keep to what we do have, and what we have is the knowing of how to do things the right way. We have tradition, and the people who live with us keep to them. And that includes the outfit."

Finn pouted. "You sure?"

"Yep." She smiled again. "Sure." And suddenly she was standing up, and Finn rocked a bit from the brief vacuum of displaced air, and her blue hands were around him, and he was rising up in the air (a few stray ceremonial bits falling off him).

"And now," she said, calmer than ever. "You learn the dance."