#tiny scene sunday

[writernopal]

💌The Sin of Brevity💌

A mushy little thing I wrote for the Shrimp Skwad's Tiny Scene Sunday featuring Mariel's parents 🥺 Enjoy or don't! Do whatever you want!

WC: 269 CW: none Characters: Marion, Nigel, Ada, Mariel

My Fair Marion, 

With any hope, this message will reach you and the girls before the year is done. If the wind should favor the vessel which carries it, then perhaps much sooner than that. Perhaps even before the first rainfall of the season. 

Ada and Mariel will no doubt delight in that puddle that forms by the front window of the house. Do you remember how you thought them changelings because they burst inside caked in mud during last year’s rains? Oh! I will never forget how you screamed! Or how I laughed!

Is the littlest one born yet? What have you decided to call him? Or her? Three girls would be darling… Perhaps you’ve already put to good use that crib I carved before I left. I hope that carpenter’s boy came around to sand down the rough edges like he said he would. He certainly owes us a great debt after we put in a good word for him with the guard after his dog bit that woman last summer. What a strange crusade that was…

But these days, with the sea angry beneath our keel and the tempestuous winds battering our sails, I want for nothing more than to take on those odd adventures with you. Instead I sit here, sullen, as I near the bottom of this my final piece of parchment. These last remaining inches seem far too small a space to adequately put into words how much I miss you.

I love you. My heart, my fair one, my guiding light in the darkness. Forgive me the sin of brevity. 

Yours, 

Nigel

[outpost51]

Tiny Scene Sunday

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Murky Water

Tooth and nail, tooth and nail.

It wasn’t pretty work, what we did.

You’d think living in a lighthouse would be like cottagecore by the ocean, but the crystal blue waters I’d been sailing on when this whole mess was foisted upon me were nothing but a foggy dream now. The choppy waves that battered the island were as dark as they were deep; stained a mucky red-black by vessel after vessel they drove into the rocks.

Like the eggs Xoctosz was currently making for breakfast. Their hulls cracked as easily as eggshell, spilling their contents into the waiting sea. The awful things that churned up the surface devoured anything and everything they were given. I couldn’t call them fish. I couldn’t call them anything, really, out of fear they might turn their many eyes and teeth on me.

But did it matter?

Xoctosz continued his evasiveness on the subject any time I brought it up, often turning the question back on me.

I slipped out to the balcony and looked over the rail. It was a long drop. I lifted one foot onto the bottom rail, then the other. The water wasn’t any calmer than usual, but at least the wind had stilled long enough for me to make the decision on my own.

I was never any good at math or measuring distance by sight alone. What I did know, however, was that hitting the water from this height would feel much like falling onto concrete. Would I suffer? Could I suffer? I climbed onto the top rail, shuffling my bare feet beneath me so I could hold on with both my hands and toes. It was probably the second dumbest idea I’d ever had in my life. Un-life. Whatever.

My lungs burned.

If I was going to do it, I sure as hell wasn’t about to go face-first into the water again. With trembling limbs, I slowly turned around on the rail.

Xoctosz was leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. “Scared yourself, didn’t you?”

“No,” I spat. The tremor had made it to my voice, though, calling my bluff before he ever had a chance.

He made no move to snatch me off the rail. Quite the opposite, actually; he made a shooing gesture with his hand. “Well, go on,” he chuffed. “Find those answers you want s’damn bad.”

Grinding my teeth, I stood on wobbly legs and resisted the urge to look behind me as I took a breath.

“Wait!”

I dropped back into my squat, grabbing the rail. I knew he wouldn’t—

The sneer that split his maw was very much not the changed-heart concern I expected. “Do a flip.”

I flipped him off as I pushed off the rail. In the few seconds I fell, everything slowed down, and I understood why people liked cliffjumping. The rush was unforgettable. And the landing?

Yeah, it felt like hitting fucking concrete. Zero out of ten, would not recommend. At least it faded soon enough, and in the peaceful silence before my world faded to black, I smiled.

“Y’know, I thought you’d at least try to hit the water feet-first,” a familiar, unwelcome voice chuckled in my head. “Sounded like a goddamn gunshot. Rise n’ shine, Keeper.”

I opened my eyes and saw nothing but teeth.

Shorts and Oneshots Taglist: @sparatus @starknstarwars @asher-orion-writes @tabswrites @thetrashbagswasteland

Ask to +/- in the tags, replies, DMs, or HERE!

[keyboardandquill]

Send me 3 one-word prompts from the list (or make up some of your own!) and one of my WIPs or OCs and I'll write a tiny scene for them involving the prompts!

Bright

Undignified

Scars

Ghost

Spark

Frame

Dirt

Ignite

Butterfly

Caution

Aura

Deceit

Lantern

Forest

Whistle

Essence

Startle

Paint

Eerie

Flight

Vase

Mire

Acquaintance

Rainstorm

Yellow

Interior

Delta

Joke

Opulent

Wield

Quip

Built

Martyr

Cost

Rent

Gallant

Urban

Fall

Intrepid

Hollow

Ember

Needle

Ripple

Desperate

Choice

Valour

Ornament

Tainted

Wrap

Glitter

[emelkae]

Can someone please explain Tiny Scene Sunday to me because I'm looking at other writers posting it like 👀

[rose-bookblood]

Holiiii!!!! Happy Tiny Scene Sunday, Rose! I hope you are having a really good day/night!

now

pls write that scene of BBtS and Winter Holidays????🥹🥹🥹🥹

Thanks, I love you! you are the best!

(@ink-fireplace-coffee)

Anything for you <3 So sorry it took me this long, I was actually debating not posting this until next winter because it's just so late. But it is technically not spring yet, so...

I had a lot of fun with this, even though writing the gang all together is chaotic and hard as hell, their dynamics come very naturally to me. I don't think I ever showed you guys the wild Cecilia-Jeremy duo before, but here it is, basically summed up.

Set during the third year, so the one before when the books’ events happen. It ended up being fucking long, oops.

Just a note: Ruby is Evelyn’s younger sister (yeah, lots of BBtS characters have siblings I’ve never mentioned lol).

CW: brief mention of food

“I never say this,” declared Evelyn as she let herself fall on the sofa, “but I’m so full I might explode.”

Andrew, half-perched on the armchair, glanced at her. “I told you not to eat the chocolate lava cake.”

At that, she sprung up and almost jumped off the couch. “The chocolate lava cake is sacred. It’s the only thing I’d be tempted to sell you for.” A pause. “Besides pizza. And ice cream from that parlor we always go to when we come back home. And a particularly good salmon and mango uramaki.”

“What I’m extrapolating from this conversation is that there is a lot of food you’d sell your literal best friend for.”

Evelyn wiggled a finger. “I said tempted to sell you for. But I would resist the temptation.”

“I’m not sure,” intervened Nathan, seated on the other side of the sofa, “that is the compliment you think it is.”

Andrew shot her a resigned look. “We grew up together and it’s the best I’ve ever received from her.”

“That,” – Evelyn crossed her arms, nose wrinkled – “is a blatant lie and you know it.”

“I am,” chimed up Victoria, “so glad you’re enjoying yourselves. If you could also appreciate the effort we made decorating the room for tonight, that would be great.”

Heat stung Evelyn’s cheeks. “Sorry. You did an amazing job.”

The apartment had transformed into a winter wonderland, a perfect match to the snowstorm outside. Pine tree branches and garlands sprinkled with snow hung on the walls. Between one of Serena’s potted plants and another, icicles-studded twigs stood inside vases wrapped in white knitting. Fake snowflakes dangled from the ceiling, their texture so fine it was impossible to grasp what material they were made of.

Lily furrowed her brow. “Did you kidnap a plant bender to get all those wreaths?”

“And,” – Andrew dipped a finger inside a small heap of snow – “an ice bender too, apparently.”

“We didn’t kidnap anyone,” huffed Victoria. “We have friends other than you guys, you know.”

“Which means we asked for a favor,” added Annabelle from Jeremy's lap.

Victoria scrunched their nose and shrugged with their arms crossed. “Yeah, that was subtextual.”

“I'm getting kind of lost here.” Nathan did, in fact, blink repeatedly.

Andrew stopped playing with the snow, then rubbed his palms one against the other and plopped back on the armrest. “Right. Let's get back on track. I was telling Evelyn she's not going to be able to fit even a cracker in her stomach tomorrow.”

With a background of snorts from Victoria and Jeremy, Evelyn tsked. “It's not like you to underestimate me so badly. I'll have enough space to devour an embarrassing number of latkes and enough energy left afterwards to argue with Ruby over whether they're better with applesauce or sour cream.” She paused, tight-lipped. “The answer is sour cream.”

A moment of silence fell on the room. Cecilia, who had been twirling a fake snowflake on itself, stopped it between two fingers and quirked both eyebrows, while the others exchanged blank glances.

“I really thought she was about to say something meaningful,” said Annabelle.

Lily had a resigned stare. “Rookie mistake.”

“We were talking about food,” puffed Evelyn. “Did you expect a treatise on… I don’t even know what!”

“You looked particularly passioned, though.” Nathan offered a half smile.

Once again, Victoria barged into the conversation: “Tell me we’re not going to spend the evening discussing how underwhelming Evelyn’s conclusion was on a scale from one to ten.”

Annabelle didn’t miss a beat, “Eight.”

“A solid seven.” That was Andrew.

Jeremy smirked. “Twelve.”

Evelyn’s mouth hung open, then turned into a pout. “You’re all assholes.” She turned to Andrew. “I’ll text dad that you’re banned from every single Hanukkah meal this year.”

“But would you have the courage to tell your mom?”

“Ok, that’s enough.” Before Victoria could kick everyone out, Serena stood and pulled out three board game boxes from a cabinet. “What are we playing?”

Cecilia picked up the colorful boxes one after another. “Our options are Game of Goose, Man, Don’t Get Angry!, or Battleship.”

“Game of Goose.”

Cecilia side-eyed Andrew. “That’s so boring. I vote Battleship.”

Evelyn lifted her hand. “I also vote Battleship.”

It was Lily’s turn to side-eye her. “We already knew.”

“There was a fifty percent chance I’d choose Man, Don’t Get Angry!.”

“You know I hate it.”

“Because you get angry before the game has even started.”

Meanwhile, Cecilia had gone back to spinning fake snowflakes like a miniature blizzard. One dangled in front of Jeremy’s face and hit him on the nose. His jaw set, he slapped the snowflake with his knuckles, sending it straight into Cecilia’s cloud of curls.

“I choose Man, Don’t Get Angry!,” said Annabelle from Jeremy’s lap, oblivious to their and Cecilia’s shenanigans.

Lily’s head whipped in Annabelle’s direction, her eyes aflame as if she had committed treason. “I’m with Andrew. Game of Goose.”

Nathan shut his lips to stop himself from chuckling, then just said, “Agreed.”

Serena held up her hands, each one with two lifted fingers, and the gems – a ruby, amethyst, opal and tiger’s eye – embedded in the gold bands of her rings glinted as they caught the light. After Nathan spoke, she lifted a third finger on her left hand. By her side, Victoria made a thumb up.

“Ok, Game of Goose is winning with three points,” they announced. “Battleship and Man, Don’t Get Angry! are tied at two.” They wiggled their index to leave no doubt on whose the second vote for Man, Don’t Get Angry! was.

“Make that three,” said Jeremy.

Victoria leaned over the coffee table to high five him, then grinned to Serena. “You’re last, babe.”

“Vote Battleship,” stage-whispered Evelyn.

“So nobody wins?” deadpanned Jeremy.

Serena looked genuinely contrite about her role as tie-breaker. “Sorry, but I have to side with my partner.”

A loud smack reverberated through the room when Victoria clapped their hands once, then blew a kiss in Serena’s direction. She pretended to catch it with a giggle.

“Please, stop.” Lily grimaced, more in the game’s direction than the couple’s, and started setting up the board and the pieces with a frown and wrinkled nose. “We need to form the teams.”

Even with the six-players version of Man, Don’t Get Angry!, they were too many.

Lily turned the board so the blue side faced Evelyn and Andrew, who had interlaced their arms, Hanukkah ban forgotten. “The usual, I assume?”

“You bet!” Evelyn closed one hand for emphasis. “Don’t mess with success.”

“You two lost the last time we played.”

“We got third place.”

Andrew shrugged. “Sorry, Lily, my teammate is right.”

“Yeah, hit it, teammate!”

While Andrew and Evelyn bumped fists with their free hands, Lily addressed first Serena, on the couch between Evelyn and Nathan, then Victoria, opposite from her. “And you too?”

As soon as they nodded, Lily stood from the recliner and switched places with Serena, who jumped onto Victoria’s lap.

“Jeremy and I are the last team,” said Annabelle, “so you, Cecilia and Nathan are playing solo.”

Cecilia abandoned the fake snowflakes and moved from her spot to sit in front of the yellow circles on the board, elbows propped on her crossed legs.

With her usual meticulousness, Lily handed everyone their respective pieces and dice, then announced: “Now you can roll them.”

The clatter of wood against wood filled the room, immediately followed by disappointed noises. A single six stood out among a series of twos and threes.

“I go first.” Cecilia tilted her head in the die’s direction with a stoic look.

She positioned her first piece, then rolled again. Another six appeared and Cecilia repeated the motion. Six.

“You’ve got to be fucking shitting me,” muttered Jeremy.

Cecilia barely blinked before rolling the die a fourth time. Six.

“You’re cheating.” Jeremy glowered at her while another of her pieces entered the game.

“I am not.”

“It’s impossible to score a six so many times in a row. You’re not rolling the die well.”

“Statistically speaking, it is possible.”

This time, Cecilia made a great show of shaking the fist that held the die, and threw it on the coffee table with enough force to send it under the couch.

“No one touch the goddamn die,” roared Jeremy as they removed Annabelle from their lap and sprung up.

“Babe,” her placid voice rang across the room as her partner urged Andrew, Evelyn, Lily and Nathan to get off the sofa, “it’s a game. Don’t get so worked up about it.”

“Yeah,” – Victoria’s wide grin threatened to turn into roaring laughter – “it’s in the name.”

Jeremy ignored both and, with Nathan’s help, hoisted the couch. When the die caught the fluorescents’ light, he almost dropped it.

The whole room erupted into laughter as Jeremy grumbled a “It’s a fucking joke”. Victoria’s body shook so hard they sank to the floor and dragged Serena with them. Cecilia made a chocking sound, then fell on her back. Nathan’s arms wavered with each wheeze and Evelyn raced to grab the die, in between snorts, before disaster struck. They were on public property.

A string of curses left Jeremy’s mouth and prompted a second wave of chortling. Actual tears clouded Evelyn’s view as she set the die back on the table.

“We’re playing Battleship.” Fire lit in Jeremy’s glare, and Evelyn could have bet the tart smell of smoke permeated the living room.

Cecilia raised herself from the parquet and moved the first piece as though nothing had happened, despite the fact that Victoria still banged a fist on the rug, meanwhile Serena suppressed her laugh with one hand on her mouth. “Why? You voted Man, Don’t Get Angry! yourself.”

Jeremy’s left eye twitched.

Lily was the first to collect herself and sit back in the same spot. Nathan and Evelyn followed suit, whilst Andrew and Serena helped Victoria off the floor.

“Can we resume the game?” Lily scanned the friend group with an arched eyebrow.

Cecilia nodded and fiddled with the die.

“If she scores a six, I swear—”

His words cut off as Cecilia rolled the die. It landed on the coffee table corner, then plopped near Evelyn’s feet.

She knelt, glanced at the die, then at Jeremy. “You don’t want to know…”

Jeremy stomped toward the kitchen, leaving a series of words that sounded like ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ and a mix of both echoing in their wake.

Evelyn snorted, then passed the die to a now narrow-eyed Andrew, who buried his face in his free hand and sighed, “It’s a four.”

Serena’s fingers reached for the die, then she called to the kitchen, “Jeremy! Jeremy, it’s a four!”

Everyone else cackled loud enough to be heard across the hallway.

Blue Below the Surface taglist: (lmk to be added or removed) @tommie-hildebrandt @stormharbors @chaotic-queer-disaster @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @vellichor-virgo @lividdreamz

@ink-fireplace-coffee

[writingonesdreams]

Tiny scene prompts

Send me 3 one-word prompts from the list (or make up some of your own!) and one or more of my OCs and I’ll write a tiny scene for them involving the prompts, set in the Tears of Iron wip!

Blood 

Hug 

Comfort 

Tremble 

Pain 

Alone 

Broken 

Tears 

Rest 

Wound 

Avoid 

Peace 

Return 

Drown 

Wait 

Punch 

Stop 

Please 

Hope 

Wince 

Help 

Carry 

Dream 

Alright 

Sorry 

Heal 

Breathe 

Shoulder 

Offer 

Answer 

Weak 

Touch 

Ask 

Scare

Fix 

Cry

Bruised 

Stay 

Warm

Catch

[circa-specturgia]

Circa Specturgia - The stars were shining…

A scene from my main WIP, Circa Specturgia. This one's got some heavier lore stuff that I haven't explained and might not explain for a while, but, I can say this much. Specturgy isn't the only magic in the setting, and the world is so much more ancient when one looks in the wrong places...

Inspired by the songs Heart of Darkness and Dancing with Flames, and Untold II, all by Secession Studios - Good to play in the background for the vibe! ✨

TW// Scars, Blood, Burn scars

The stars were shining.

The sky parted, and he descended from the space within space, setting foot on the quiet field. The wind swept his black hair, masking his eyes as though he’d torn out a part of the canvas of the night to hide them. In between their blackness, two eyes, gold like the sun, shone, iridescent.

His steady gaze met the dozens of golden pairs now trained on him, glittering like the ones in the sky above… The wind whistled in the silence, as he scanned over the horizon, recognizing each of his siblings, his kin.

- “The vessel has been named.”

A shiver ran across the crowd, murmurs in the ether of their minds growing louder, voices of worry, agitation stirring up in the crowd. A raised finger, the smallest gesture, and all grew silent, listening to the man as he continued.

- “We must come together as one. I invoke viimievät.”

One stepped forward, up to where the man had set down, kneeling as he placed the back of an open hand against one shoulder and brushing it to the opposite in traditional salute.

- ”Sire, we must be reasonable, mobilizing all-”

The man raised one hand, a wave of cold and quiet rippling away from his palm, the air growing still. The clouds dissipated, the wind turning the grass into a navy ocean of waves in the moonlight.

The stars had gone from the sky.

- ”I have been alive… for over six thousand years now. None are my elder.” Each word was heavy, echoing off of nothing. His voice, austere. Hushed, yet burning, of disturbing intensity.

In his outstretched palm, visions began to coalesce, nebulous shapes of light and dust rolling across the emptiness around in pulses. Shifting, doubling, changing. Horrifying.

- “I was there when She was struck down laughing from her heavens with the cruelest weapon.” His eyes had begun to shine with withering starlight, a glow like plasma flowing through their hair, their form.

- “I heard the screams of my brothers and sisters at the dawn of the Everburn.” Mirages, dancing lights, shifted across their skin, flashes of history continuing to emanate from their hold.

- “I witnessed as the sky was torn open to swallow the Astralim.” The clouds above turned to nebulae as they wreathed their form, growing simultaneously to a hundred feet and remaining grounded.

- “I was the one to cut down the self -made god and sealed the mind that promised to burn our Istra...” Their words echoed in a thousand voices, a hundred hands manifesting and fading around them, their eyes supernova.

A single step forward, all those gathered, a step back, unable to breathe.

They brought just one hand to the chin of the man who had spoken, tilting it upwards, the vision in their eyes being the most horrifying one of all. Tears began streaming from the mans face, evaporating instantly under their unwavering gaze. It was burning itself into his eyes, into his memory, unable to look away. A man of dark eyes and messy hair, standing with a sword of flame and blood. A world razed at his feet.

- ”I stood at the epicenter and survived.” They hissed. “I am Viivoktyn. Do not speak to me of reasons.”

A few seconds that stretched into an infinity passed, the sibilant thrum of energy hanging in the air, before they stood up straight, their form collapsing in on itself. Returning to the simple black robes he had worn before, he turned to look away from them all, before speaking once more, voice returned to a whisper, melting with the wind that had picked up.

- ”Should the vessel claim it’s birthright, none of us will be safe. Not our Istra. Not any world. We must move to keep it from doing so, at all costs and by any means. I say this not as caution, or cowardice. I say this as fear. I have seen what happens when gods touch our world.” He turned, a sharp breath rippling across all those that saw…

It was like staring into a dead star.

Eons of memory etched into their soul, weathered and worn. Weighing heavily on them, a burden born of a bloody past, and borne by them alone. Blood as black as midnight began to pour from a hundred bleeding gashes that refused to close.

Their eyes were dim, as though the previous gold was now at the bottom of a pit, buried under silt in a riverbed, stars a thousand miles away. One of them cried, with crows feet deep as scars, tears on his cheek. The other could not, his other half burned, blackened, craterous.

So old yet so young. Eyes that begged for someone to ask “Child, who had done this to you?” Eyes that proved they never heard it.

- ”I cannot let it happen again.”

Hope you enjoyed! Some bonus inspo pics above!✨

Taglist? Taglist! ✨ Thanks to all these wonderful people for supporting me and giving me the inspiration and motivation to write!

@bloodlessheirbyjacques @athenswrites @magefaery @writingonesdreams @muddshadow @awritingcaitlin @agrimedena-drax @pinespittinink @tryingtimi @jessica-writes22 @the-void-writes

[jessica-writes22]

An altercation between Lyssa and Invidia

"You can't have him." A sharp voice spoke from behind me.

"Excuse me," I raised my eyebrow and turned to face Invidia. There was no doubt she was beautiful. Her emerald dress wrapped around her body, and the mask made her eyes shine.

"Kian heart. You can't have what's mine." sh stated confidently. Her eyes looked down on me.

"You are a fool to think that I want him." I frown.

"I know when a bitch is lying so cut the crap. You're just a toy to him. Trust me he will tire of you." she retorted.

"Your jealousy isn't my problem. Just know, if I want something then I'll have it." my eyes narrowed as I crossed my arms. 

"Me, jealous of you. Ha, I  have no reason to be jealous of anyone, let alone a girl too consumed by her sin to be anything more than a pawn."

"Invidia. You don't know me, nor what I'm capable of. Keep your dirty hand off Kian or you will no longer have hands." I growled and walked away.

[kashacreates]

✨🌈Sunday Drabble Jam🌈✨

Hey ho! It's Sunday somewhere, and this week I'm trying something new. Today's prompt is a writing prompt!

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit..."

Rules and Taglist under the read-more

How it works:

I give you one (1) GIF and one (1) snippet of description or dialogue.

You give me a small piece of writing, if you want.

Wait, wasn't Sunday ,':) ',:)

That stuff is quarantined to @kashasstupidboner (18+ only, I check blog contents to verify or can be DM'd.)

Rules:

There is no rule in terms of the format, content, or length of writing. You don't even have to match the prompt. Take the inspiration and let it run wild!

@ me and tag with "Sunday Drabble Jam"

Read and interact with other's writing (doesn't have to be mine!)

Tag List

@happystarfishnightmare

@fearofahumanplanet

@whimsyqueen

@italiangothicwriteblr

@godsleftarmpit

@circa-specturgia

@pinespittinink

@ashleythetraveler

@the-void-writes

@agrimedena-drax

@magefaery

@ezestreet

@sergeantnarwhalwrites

@inkingfireplace

@tc-doherty

@hymnonlips

@rose-bookblood

@the-crazy-fan-girl-emily

@notdumbthunder

@darlingsmoon

@justnerdy15

@yancyeet

@aloeverawrites

@alkippe

@galaxy-writer

@awritingcaitlin

@duskforged

@bardic-tales

@avocado-frog

@sender-paulson

@galaxygamersblog

@aschlindartroom

@smilingpaperbag

@terrisredrose

@elistudies

@aohendo

@calicojackofficial

@muddshadow

@rosieartsie

@theskeletonprior

@tiny-taurus-sun

@carefulpyro

[feralandmoonstruck]

“i was made to love you.”

Thanks for the prompt @bloodlessheirbyjacques !

Warnings: Blood, choking, death

The pressure of the brush against her nail was that of a ghost bleeding its red against the delicate blush of her fingers. It was a lurid red, bright enough to evoke death with just a glance. Each precise stroke bore warning for any who bothered to heed it. "I was made to love you. You know that, right?"

"Of course. And I to you."

"You say that," she didn't look up, her eyes trained to the task, "but something in me feels like you're lying to me."

"How could you think that?"

The brush dripped red back into the bottle as she finally raised her eyes. "There's just something there. I don't know what or why. It's just there."

He lowered himself to his knees, looking up at her with pleading eyes. “Yvette, you have to know that there’s no lie here. You know that I love you.”

She turned toward him, nails bright and violent. “I know, Marius, that after your little display,” she spat the word, “the other day you cannot be trusted. Not anymore.”

“Yvette, please,” his eyes widened with fear and desperation.

“Begging will get you nowhere. You should know that better than anyone by now.” Those claws closed against his throat, smearing his skin with the anticipation of blood. She stood, pulling him up as she did. “You must think I’m stupid if you believe that I can’t see right through you. You forget that I know every twist and curl of darkness that you try to keep hidden inside. I know exactly what kind of man you are."

"Yvette, please. You know I would never betray you." He breathed heavily beneath her grasp.

She tipped her head to the side, a snarl curling her mouth, "Another lie, another lie. And you wonder why I'm punishing you." She lifted him higher, her nails digging deeper into him. "You betrayed me to Collandria, and for what? Power? Money? She will come for me, for both of us. You've doomed everything we've built without a second thought. Now you're only going to slow me down, and I'll always be wondering if you'll break my trust again. I'm sorry, Marius, but I can’t let that happen."

Without letting him respond, she gave him a soft smile and gripped his throat until blood gushed over her fingers.

[outpost51]

Tiny Scene Sunday

.·:*¨༺ ���¨*:·.

Growing Pains

Oh, Death: won’t you spare me over for another year?

Death wasn’t anything like what I expected.

Was he rough around the edges?

‘Getcher lazy ass up, Keeper! Shit’s gettin’ cold!’ Xoctosz bellowed from elsewhere in our living quarters. It was four in the morning, and he hadn’t dismissed me to sleep until two.

Yes.

Did he have zero concept of personal boundaries?

‘There you are,’ he huffed, ripping back the shower curtain. I wasn’t aware shark faces could be so expressive — for what little range of emotion Xoctosz seemed to possess — but he was clearly not amused by how long I had been screaming. ‘You done?’

‘No, I’m not fucking done!’ I screeched. ‘Do you know how hard it is to scrub crude oil out of human hair?’

He exhaled, loud and long-suffering, as if my need to not be a walking sludge-creature was such a great inconvenience. Without warning, he shoved his way into the already-cramped shower and dumped more dish soap on my head. ‘Gotta do everything around here,’ he grumbled.

Yes.

Did he snore like a dying boat engine and sleep like a corpse?

I threw a pillow first, then one of the too-large boots he’d given me, then the other. Where did he think I was going to go with such urgency he had to sleep in the same room? Finally tired of the noise, I stomped over to his hammock and yanked up the edge. I thought I’d fucked up — not that he’d be angry, but that the lighthouse would crumble around us from how horribly his weight shook the walls when he hit the floor. He didn’t even stir.

Very much.

But he could be— charming wasn’t exactly the word I wanted. Kind? No. Considerate? Mmh.

He wasn’t completely disagreeable all the time.

Every morning, he made breakfast— usually whatever we could salvage from the boats that wasn’t too waterlogged, and if we couldn’t find anything, he’d grill fish on the balcony, or boil whatever shelled monstrosities he caught in his traps. I wasn’t allowed to empty the traps yet and I was glad for it. The things that scavenged on our leftovers had too many eyes, limbs, teeth to be any sort of shellfish I’d ever seen.

The silence that surrounded us as we sat across from one another was anything but companionable, though. I think he figured out at some point that I hated when he watched me eat; for the past however-long, he’d done it even more.

“Why do I even need breakfast?” I asked him.

“Long day,” he grunted around a mouthful of his — it was better not to think about what he ate, actually. “Need you productive.”

“Didn’t I… die?” I couldn’t stay in the shower too long. Baths were out of the question. My lungs still crackled when I inhaled too hard.

“Does it matter?”

‘Not all the time’ implied that some of the time, he was a total asshole, and drowning did nothing to quell my intolerance of assholes.

I brought both of my hands down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery and stood — on my tiptoes, because even sitting down, he was still tall enough to make eye contact a struggle. “Yes, it fucking matters! You kidnapped me, —” I choked, I always choked on his name, I’d yet to say it out loud “— killed my boyfriend, ruined my chances of graduating Harvard, stole my future — I at least deserve to know if I’m even alive!”

He shrugged.

Shrugged.

Ivy League attendee though I was, no one ever accused me of making good decisions. Case in point: the shitshow that landed me in service to Xoctosz in the first place.

“I know you’re not the best at listenin’,” he warned, “but I’d suggest not doin’ what you’re thinkin’ about doin’. I can see it in your eyes.” Xoctosz folded his hands on the table. “How far you think you’ll get, Keeper?”

Exhibit B: the fact that I didn’t heed a warning from Death.

“Far enough,” I spat.

Then lunged across the table.

He wasn’t a complete asshole all the time; he let me get one solid punch in before taking me to the ground and twisting one of my arms behind me. “Think you might be the first one that’s ever been stupid enough to do that,” he chuffed. “East’s Keeper at least had a gun when he threatened me.”

That… that made me stop trying to twist around and finish what I started. “You’ve trapped other people here?”

His laugh was so much louder right above me. Thunderous. “Not me — not East, anyway.”

Clearly I wasn’t getting more explanation than that, so I circled back. “Did I die when the ship crashed on the rocks?”

He didn’t answer, instead sighing heavily and rolling to his feet. He lifted me with him, with all the effort of scruffing a kitten, and dropped me back in my chair. Only once he settled in his did he speak again. “Dunno why you lot do that.”

“What, threaten you? I can think of a few reasons.”

I expected a glare. I hadn’t braced myself for the flash of teeth behind his easy grin. “Ask questions you don’t really want answered.”

Shorts and Oneshots Taglist: @sparatus @starknstarwars @asher-orion-writes @tabswrites @thetrashbagswasteland

Ask to +/- in the tags, replies, DMs, or HERE!

[laufire-writes]

TINY SCENE PROMPTS

I borrowed this idea from @aninkwellofnectar (and it was originally from @keyboardandquill).

Send me 3 one-word prompts from the list (or make up some of your own!) and I'll write a tiny scene for them involving the prompts! (Don’t ask about specific WIPs or OCs; I’m using this as a way to write/get more of a feel for my short stories for camp nano).

Abomination

Astral

Bewitching

Blazing

Bucolic

Candor

Catharsis

Chrysalis

Colossal

Crescendo

Dalliance

Dauntless

Diaphanous

Elixir

Eloquent

Euphoric

Flourish

Fortitude

Furtive

Harbinger

Holiness

Invincible

Jubilation

Labyrinth

Languor

Lyrical

Mellow

Minutiae

Murmur

Omnipotent

Opulent

Panacea

Paradisiac

Penumbra

Petrichor

Pyrrhic

Quietude

Rapturous

Ripple

Serendipitous

Solitude

Subterfuge

Symphony

Talisman

Thunderous

Verity

Vulnerable

Wanderlust

Yearn

Zenith

[writingonesdreams]

A very gentle Tiny Scene Sunday!!!! ❤️(/^-^(^ ^*)/❤️

Flying, Forest, Dragons and (bonus: Rainstorm)! / Hal and Skye? 👀

@bloodlessheirbyjacques ✨👀❤️

I have been thinking of this scene for some time and didn't know where to place it or what to do with it. These words were just perfect to bring it to life. Thank you very much for sending them! This was really great to make me write, we should do this more to each other. 😂🙈 

From this list.

1232w

Skye, Hal and the Dragon

Skye walked through the forest in a hurry. Where are you, Hal? He send a court message that he was leaving for a while, but she wasn't sure where and since he send it telepathically, she was the only one who knew too.

Hal still couldn't get used to the need to say things out loud. He would just broadcast his thoughts, in that gentle way of his, so he wasn't enforcing his mind, calm and friendly for whoever was recieving.

But she was the only one recieving of the mages on the Flying Islands Mind magic wasn't usual, normal or easy. People didn't learn it for fun. Heck, Leander still thought it was pretty useless and Zephyr still thought she needed to be more protected because of it. She didn't have the energy to argue with the first and she didn't have the heart to protest the latter. Skye liked being protected by Zephyr. It wasn't a cool independent thing to do, but she liked it.

Her flustered feelings made a few thorns sprout out from the ground next to her. She barely managed to change the course without walking straight into them.

Picking up her pace, she tried to ignore her sourroundings, the flush greenery of the towering redwood around her, the warm air filled with the mild spicy smell.

Her mind reached up and over the trees, seeing the world in gray silhouettes as her thoughts and magic rushed through, quick but thorough, running and running... until she felt it. The overwhelming, but familiar presence of Hal, bigger than the ancient trees, robust and hulking like the mountains on the Islands, floating through the clouds, each a separate segment, but holding the same position, as if chained together. He was liked that. A separate piece, and yet always part of the whole, part of the Islands themselves.

In her quick strides and vibrativing sense of victory upon finding him, she almost run the rest of the forest to the clearing. She should have checked longer, before retreating with her mind. That she was surprised upon seeing the dragon standing at the edge of the clearing was shameful for a mage of her caliber.

Somehow she has stopped being sensitive to their presence. They were kinda everywhere, coming from the forest, flying over the gates, napping under the stairs of the academy. And they were always recieving, so in a way, she wasn't pushing with her mind to them to be considerate?

She could present it like that. The truth was more simple though. She was scared.

It was amazing, being on the Islands. She loved how buzzing with life and magic they were, the unique floating, the various landscapes, from waterfalls and calm lakes, from mountains to flat fields, from wild natural cliffs to abondened cities of stone.

She loved the dragons. They were special creatures, intelligent, magical, different, and this was one of the only places they resided in. Her only chance to not only see them feetingly, but actually observe and interact with them. In theory she was excited about that, bubbly feelings of joy and promise rising in her chest.

But when she stood before this dragon, giant black serpent body with wings like pirate sheets on a giant boat, the piercing glare, the feeling turned to a sinking sensation and goosebumps on her arms. Because this creature could hurt her so easily, and that feeling didn't go away, just because she logically undertood it wouldn't.

The dragon looked in her direction them, infinite black pools of ink bearing into her. She shivered. Hesitated. Then hurried to Hal's side. It was rude to show fear in presence of allied dragons.

Hal was Hal and wasn't Hal. He was in the in between state, his body visible and concrete enough for his clothes to hang onto him, but the outline of his body was blurred and transculent, and he seemed to be hovering in space, just about to float away.

He was mind-sharing with the dragon, and so deeply, that his body was losing form. At least he wasn't shapeshifting into anything, like a bird or a rock, that would have been longer issue to deal with.

But like this, she could still just walk up to him, and by hugging him from behind, hold him in place. Apply pressure. Appeal to his physical human senses to bring him back.

It took a bit. She wasn't following exactly, because her eyes were closed, clenched shut so she wouldn't have to look at the dragon. Tempest was one of the oldest dragons on the Island, with a particular fondness for Hal. They all tended to find favourites among them very quickly. She couldn't see the transformation, but she felt how Hal's weight changed in her hands, how his body shifted, shook and then engled towards her, and he stumbled before he caught himself on his own two feet and got his balance.

"You here?" She asked out loud, deliberately, instead of checking with her mind.

Hal coughed and took a deep breath and reached out instead, but she blocked her thoughts, clear and strong like an ice wall between them.

He relented. "Wasn't far away."

"You almost slipped away."

A beat of silence.

"I would have come back." When she didn't reply, he added: "I will always come back."

Although there wasn't a reason for it anymore, she still held onto him from behind, his slim body solid in her hands. Her eyes still clenched, she realized she was leaning into him instead of holding him up now.

Hal didn't move. He let her.

Did he guess it wasn't just that she was worried he would dissolve into thin air? That she was holding him more for herself than for his sake now? Did he feel the tremor in her hands and guess what caused it?

What a stupid thing for a Dragon knight, fearing the Dragon.

Hal shifted on his feet again. Put his hand on hers, crossed over his waist. His skin was cold to the touch, featherlight, ghostly. Then he gently pried one hand away, gripping it tightly and guiding it to his side. He coaxed her clenched fingers in the open, while leaving the other hand clutching the fabric of his coat around his middle still.

They waited. She slowly opened her eyes. The dragon was still there. Hal didn't voice the fear they both knew out loud. Not in words, not in his thoughts. But she noticed upon seeing, that he stood more broadly, more directly in front of her, shielding her from the dragon he loved.

When she didn't say sorry, the sky darkened. A small drizzle started quickly, no preparation needed. Denying her feelings would soon start a rainstorm on the Islands.

Hal didn't move. The dragon, Tempest, kept looking at them. Skye kept casting quick glances in her direction, before looking away, holding onto Hal's hand, shielded by his back. Thankful. Yes that was the word she was looking for. She focused on that feeling, accepted it, took it deeply inside herself and then let it sicker through and outside.

The rain continued, but the sky tore in places, letting sunlight in. Hal turned his head to look at her from the side. Curious. Careful. Patient.

Skye took a deep breath, opened her mind to the dragon and smiled.

[ink-fireplace-coffee]

You know I can't resist, so sandwich and Jasper.... ~Morri.

It's Monday. But I suddenly had so much stuff to do yesterday that decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to keep the asks for today. So yeah 😅

I had so much fun writing this and I hope it warms your heart and makes you laugh equally haha

(@memento-morri-writes)

---

"So... you eat stuff in between two pieces of bread?"

"Don't say it like that!" Kit exclaimed, and hold the sandwich almost reverently. "This might be one of the most cherised meals of our generation."

"Your generation likes to eat meat and cheese slices in between bread," Jasper deadpanned.

It's not that he wasn't getting it, this was fairly easier to understand than Instagram or social media, but the whole thing seemed...

"Simple," Agatha finished for him, going into the kitchen. Kit turned to her, as if she had said that the sky was red or thst the earth was flat, and she shrugged, "what? It's true that it doesn't take an engineer to make a sandwich."

"But... But sandwhiches are great! This one is a Kit Sandwich, Ags"

Ah yes, a Kit Sandwich. The sometimes-horrifying-sometimes-surprising-but-always-chaotic invention Kit had creates a few years ago, after trashing his whole pantry looking for whatever qualified as a topic to put in between the bread slices.

This time the concoction had lettuce, tomato, pickles and something that Agatha could only guess was pulled pork based on the texture.

Still, she took the dish off from Kit's hands, cut the square in two triangles and offered Jasper one. Without saying anything she took a bite and chew, and...

"Really? Soy sauce?"

Kit grinned. "It's not a my sandwich if it's not chaotic."

She hummed in approval and nudged Jasper to go on.

"It's edible... More or less."

After a second of hesitation he decided to try it, not really knowing what to expect.

Somehow his brain and bud tastes knew the flavors weren't supposed to be mixed together like that... But strangely it worked.

"It's... not bad, just... strange," he finally managed.

"THATS EXACTLY THE POINT, JASPER!" Kit all but screamed. He took off the plates from his friends and stacked them up in the counter, puffing dramatically. "You know what? If you stay here any longer you will be late for the concert, and it's clear as day that you can't appreciate my creations so-"

He shoved the couple out of the room and almost to the door, as they tried not to laugh. They stepped out of the house and walked to Agatha's car.

After a beat, she commented: "Don't worry, Prince Charming, I'll buy you something to eat before we go inside."

He sighed relieved and chuckled, "It was awful."

"But he does it with love."

Kit threw the sandwich to the trash when he went back to the kitchen. He had been creating this horrifying things for Agatha to eat in hopes that one day, she would break and tell him how bad it tasted. And not only that hadn't happened yet but also Jasper had decided not to hurt his feelings.

He really did have the best of friends.