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Deep Thought

Imagine having active camouflage like a chameleon, but having the same dangers that come along with it. Like when I go to the supermarket, I can blend in so that person I don’t like can’t see me. But there’s a chance they spot me while I’m grabbing eggs, I’ll end up in their fridge. Yeah never mind… Not worth it.

Mini Rant

Unpaired socks. Just… Okay… Hang on, I need to settle down a little. I mean, this is just the worst. My socks are all the same. Literally. I buy three packs of the same exact sock and wear the whole lot of them until they start getting holes as a group. I don’t have to sort. I don’t have to worry about one ending up in a different laundry basket. I don’t have to pair them. I make a single stack of socks, and when I need them, I grab two. One gets holes, I throw it away by itself and haven’t lost use of the remainder. What’s the point? The point is that I have designed my entire wardrobe around avoiding this problem. That’s how bad it is.

Question your Reality

You learn that the next thing you do in life will succeed. As in, “failure” is quite literally impossible. What would you do?

Semblance of a Story

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Semblance of a Story

Hyanon froze as soon as he heard the growl. His hand tingled, his fingers cupping the delicate ice-bloom that glowed with inner blue fire. The druids of the deep should have all been asleep. This was the designated time for hibernation. He peered around in the darkness, lit only by clumps of ice-blooms.

A shadow moved near him, a great head lifting from the sheet of ice that made up the floor of the cave. Faint light traced intricate symbols in the druid's thick fur as its eyes opened. Hyanon dropped the ice-bloom, the delicate petals shattering on contact with the ice below. He threw his hands up in a warding gesture, but the druid's spell slid past his defense like ice gliding through water. The ice at his feet enveloped his legs and Hyanon sank into the clutches of ice.

A rough voice grated his ears as a numbing chill climbed his body. ``Did you know that our ice-blossoms grow upon the tombs of fallen poachers? Soon you shall bloom.``

What If?

What if pain could be transferred? Like I could feel what you were feeling to get an actual legitimate sense. But not only that, it would be fully transferred. I think it would become a profession. People would take on the pain of others for the pay.

Dog Bear Says

Dog Bear says, “On the beach, sand gets into all sorts of awful places. Like your wallet. If you can’t find any real ones, that is probably the best way to collect sand dollars.”
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