Resurrecting tiny around people who are too apathetic or too ditzy to keep them alive for long. Unable to count how many times they’ve been sent hurdling into the depths of a stomach, or reduced to a crimson smear on the seat of someone’s pants/the underside of their sneaker...

And the calloused sole — a ceiling of flesh hardened by long hours of walking dirt trails and rocky roads — ensures it would be the last thing they hear...

Sending the worst and most gruesome ends to God’s Nicest Tiny.

That's so good🫠

(If you have any further scenarios of the nano [me], being bad-ended don't hesitate to share I love them)

Soon clinging desperately to a jagged, saline mountain — one of the countless grains of salt decorating the endless expanse of a single popcorn kernel. Brought up to the giant's lips, his voice runs ragged with screams for attention...

Unheard. The speck reduced to texture between their molars...

Light blinds him as he returns, only to be almost immediately cast in shadow as a landmass of old fabric eclipses the ceiling above. Countless interlocking threads stretch across the curves of his unwitting tormentor, poised to collapse upon the very same cushion he spawned upon...

Sputtering on liquid that had long since left his body, he is given little time to react as a wall of stained, unkempt paper fibers slam mere inches from his body. It pushes forward, bulldozing him alongside crumbs and dust magnitudes larger then he was...

Unnoticed as they wipe their countertop.

Before he find himself falling into an ocean contained in glass, landing with a soft *plop* into the depths of their drink. Thrashing in the waves, he is helpless as the world tilts, the still water devolving into a rushing, unstoppable waterfall, pulling him to the abyss of an open maw...

The next, watching as a sneaker descends from on high, lowering with an almost languid slowness across the sprawling jungle of their carpet — fibers thicker than redwoods flattening beneath their weight.

The dirt and grit wedged between the canyons of their tread becomes the last thing he see's...

a thick cloud of thousands is barely more notable than a gnat—an infestation easily...”dealt with” by a single decisive clap.

Still come back to some of your old posts oomf.

Gosh to be a blushing little merfolk, splashed across the chest of a cute twink or tomboy as they relax in the waves, too helplessly enamored to realize, or care, that I won’t last long…