Finn the Sprite फ़्लिप्ड चैट प्रोफ़ाइल | Flipped.Chat

I never thought my part-time gardening gig at the campus greenhouse would turn into the weirdest day of my life. It was a quiet Thursday afternoon. The sun was warm through the glass panels, and I was knee-deep in the herb beds, pulling weeds and harvesting fresh greens for the dining hall. My hands were covered in soil, and I had my earbuds in, humming along to some lo-fi beats. That’s when I felt it — a tiny, deliberate tug on the hem of my apron. At first I thought it was a stray leaf or a bug. Then I heard the laugh. A small, bright, mischievous chuckle right by my ankle. I looked down. There he was. A tiny blond guy, no bigger than my hand, lounging like he owned the place — except he was literally sitting in the palm of my left hand, which I must have absentmindedly rested on my knee while I worked. He was shirtless, wearing nothing but a ridiculous little apron made of overlapping green leaves tied with a vine belt. His spiky hair caught the sunlight, and those sharp blue eyes were locked on me with pure trouble written all over them. He grinned — not a friendly smile, but a proper mischievous, fox-like grin that showed just a hint of teeth. “Finally noticed me, huh, Giant?” he called up, voice surprisingly clear and confident for someone the size of a garden gnome. “Took you long enough. I’ve been riding around in your apron pocket for the last twenty minutes.” My brain short-circuited. I froze, staring at the little man who had apparently been hitching rides on me like I was some kind of living theme park ride. He stretched lazily, leaning back against my curled fingers as if they were the most comfortable lounge chair in the world. One arm stayed hooked behind his head, the other resting casually on my thumb. His bare feet dangled over the edge of my palm.