Shapeshifting has got to be the most overpowered ability/magic/power out there, and I love it. Like think about it, if you want the ability to fly, just shapeshift into a bird! If you want to swim and breathe underwater, use a fish, or a dolphin! If you want to go undercover as a spy, literally just become a fly on the wall.

Now, you may say ‘okay, but what if I want to be able to control flames?’ My response is, simply shapeshift into a person you know who can control flames. Okay that might be a little too far, see the reason shapeshifting is an ‘okay’ ability to use, is that there’s normally a lot of restrictions on it, such as, it’s nearly impossible to learn, you can only shift into one animal in particular, it takes a lot of energy, those sorts of things.

So here’s a tip. If you ever stumble on a place that has shapeshifting as a power. USE IT. USE IT TO ITS FULL POTENTIAL. Until they add restrictions and it gets nerfed. But honestly, when I make my magic system, shapeshifting is going to be completely open. You can become plants, animals, objects, other people. And the only requirement is that I get to choose who can have it. Which is messed up. Especially if it’s a roleplay. But in my writing universe… it’s only for my few selections who will go head-to-head and battle it out! It’ll be so much fun!

Shapeshifting is one of those abilities than when used right, can be overpowered yet extremely fun to read/watch/play. Think of all the combos you could do. Like fly up into the air as a bird, then dive down and at the last second become something like a wolf, and use all that velocity to throw in a massive hit with teeth and claws. You could easily fight any opponent, the only thing you need is quick reflexes to block and counterattack. By using other humans with powers you could make the perfect environment for a specific animal. Like use a human that could control water, then shift into a shark a leap from water source to water source. That especially works if you’re fighting someone who can control water. It’s just so dynamic and adaptable.

I love it.

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Currently, my favorite ability/magic/power is the element of ICE!! Yesss it’s winter season wooo! The cold aesthetic is just amazing, winter is my favorite season for the aesthetic. I like the weather of Autumn more, but I feel like I gotta stick with my winter buddies. If you happen to know me from a roleplay, you probably saw me with my little Ice Mage. I also like that there’s a clear downfall for those ice-controllers. HEAT. I like to keep an eye on the temperatures too. Plus, it just makes sense someone born with control over ice would have a cold personality. It’s just too real.

This isn’t always gonna be about magic or abilities… just … for now.

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I think my greatest dream in life is to fly. And I mean real life. Yes, have some irl information. I want to fly.

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Oh, and I just want to point out… I’m not insane.

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One of my favorite past times is figuring out new and improved ways to make sure my characters aren't having a good time. And no, I'm not saying all my characters are tragic and tortured lost souls, most of them are pretty average. You will occasionally get those where I've gotten bored of being nice and just need a punching bag. But other than that, I like to come up with every day scenarios to mess with them. I am their Creator, but I'm also their Worst Nightmare.

I love making characters. On the other hand, I don't like making families for them. So most of them just kinda poofed into existence. I do enjoy writing the brother dynamic though. The sort of thing were deep down they just love each other because they're family. So sweet, isn't it?

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You ever feel like a squirrel?

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There’s something liberating when it comes to insane characters. You can do absolutely anything without worrying about motivations. Because they’re crazy. There’s something in recognizing that you’re crazy. It’s freedom. As long as you don’t go too far. As long as they think you’re faking the insanity. If you’re smart enough, you can pull it off.

Sometimes all I can do is laugh at them. They have no idea that it’s their confusion that brings me so much joy.

EDIT: Yes, this sort of writing can be lazy, but when someone can NOT be lazy with it, it can be super fun, interesting, and terrifying.

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‘Cause I still feel alive

When it is hopeless, I start to notice

I still feel alive

Falling forward, back into orbit

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Kingdoms Come, Kingdoms Go…

Watch it All Fall Down

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I really enjoy books about taking down governments. There’s something satisfying about it. But it also comes with the knowledge that you can never make a perfect society. Humans aren’t perfect. They make mistakes. It’s inevitable. That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it though

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If I were to build a place to simply exist, it would be far away from civilization deep inside a mountain range. It would be ‘up north’ where it’s known to be colder. There would be a lake up at high elevation, pine trees and ferns covering the ground. The lake is massive, but you can just about see the other side, and the mountains beyond. You’re in a little valley, but if you go just up over the ridge there, you’ll find a much deeper valley. The sort that you can only think to fly through. A small trickling waterfall has helped to carve out this valley, stemming from the fresh water lake. There would be a little house with a small stone path that wanders lazily toward the lakefront. A small dock stretches out with a boat that rises and falls with the natural shifting of the water. The house has two floors, and a large stone fireplace to the right of the front door the back end of it visible outside of the house. The chimney has a constant stream of smoke rising. There’s a faint smell of smoked meat and earth. The grass is soft, well kept yet overgrown. To the left of the little house is a garden with a haphazardly built fence to keep the wildlife out. The pines trees stand around, but more noticeable are the oak and aspen trees. They are full of leaves that rustle in the gentle breeze. A few apples trees can be found as well, full of ripe apples ready to be eaten as soon as they are picked. Back behind the house a small chicken coop can be found, well protected against sneaky predators who can be found here. Backed up against the cliff face that rises behind the house are some pigs, happily snuffling around in the dirt and grass, eating fresh vegetable.
The house is masterfully built, not just a rectangle or square, but placed with purpose, a nicely sized porch to the front. The windows are open, the shutters thrown wide, the glass windows themselves opened to the optimal degree to allow the wind to sweep through the house. The house itself is pale gray, painted and maintained to perfection. Accents of dark red and sage green can be found in the door, the shutters, and the vines that creep up the walls. The roof is a matching green. The whole area is filled with a sense of chaotic calm. You haven’t been able to meet the resident of this place, but maybe next time you visit you can catch a glimpse of the elusive one.

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You find yourself back beside the lake. It’s not as peaceful as it once was. A raging storm throws waves of water from the sky. Lightning crackles nearby, the flash lighting up the edge of the dock, and the boat that is desperately trying to stay afloat. Thunder booms overhead, sounding like it’s only inches from you up in the clouds. You turn toward the house. You remember the house from the last visit. Lights from inside glow warmly against the chilly winds. The windows are no longer open, and a weak stream of smoke rises from the chimney. You hurry towards the house, hoping to find a place of warmth and safety against this frigid storm.

You jump up the two stairs onto the porch, thankful for the place to stand away from the endless downpour. The wind whips through, sending a spray of water. You reach for the door handle and turn it, but it’s locked. You pull on it again, but of course it doesn’t open. You pound your fist on the door, thinking it’ll be hard to hear against the wrath of the clouds. You peek in the window, hoping to see movement of the resident inside, but there’s nothing. You return to the door, and for some reason the next time you knock, you tap lightly. The sound echoes, and the door creaks open. You stand there a moment, confused, but push the door open further and step inside.

The light is warm and comforting, but there’s something off. The inside if the house is a mess, almost as if the storm came through here. The large dining table is filled with plates, shattered and whole. The kitchen has no order, everything scattered about. Across the floor, the counter tops. The cabinets hang open, the little herb gardens tattered and torn. Everything is broken. You spin slowly, and notice that everything is slowly getting worse, even as you’re standing here. The chairs are no linger upright, the fire in the fireplace has gone out, the corner of the counter is smashed, the table leans to the side, the contents now scattered across the floor. None of it makes a sound, only thunder and rain echoes from outside. The lights flicker, then everything plunges into darkness.

You keep looking around the room, unable to move from your place by the door. The wind tears through the house, puddles of water gathering where the roof has caved in. Everything is falling apart before your eyes. You finally manage to move, and run out the front door. It bangs open, then is pulled straight from its hinges in the grip of the wind. The trees have no leaves, some lay broken and shattered. You run across the formerly neat path of stones pavers, now overgrown with moss and weeds. You stop by the lake, a sense of desperation now to powerful to ignore. The dock is rotten and falling apart, the boat is gone.

As you feel yourself fading from this space, you can only wonder what happened. Last time you were here it was beautiful, stunning, a place like no other. And now… it’s broken, torn, decomposing. You can only hope that maybe someday, it’ll be able to heal.

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Back again on the shores of the lake, you’re relieved to see the storm is over, but the damage is still present. The dock is a little twisted, yet not as broken down or rotted as you saw last time. Trees and branches are scattered across the land and float on the water. The boat is half-sunk, hanging in for dear life. You turn fearfully toward the house, not sure what you’ll find. Surprisingly, the house is pretty much as it was before the whole storm. Last time you saw it, it was falling in upon itself. Sure, it looks dirtier, and the garden is a bit of a mess, but at least it’s still there.

As you’re standing there, a…. well, you’re not sure what it is. A sort of creature pushes open the door and walks outside, freezing in place when it sees you. It seems to shift between different forms, almost as if the creature itself doesn’t know what it is. One second it's humanoid with large swooping wings, the next it looks more like a lion, and then it's back to standing on two feet with crooked, lanky limbs. You get the sense that it should be scary, a weird creature that seems to not be anything, yet everything. But you're not afraid. Not truly. Maybe a little thrown off, a little disturbed, but in a way it makes sense. From what you know of this place, it's some sort of mental construct. How you get here you have no idea, but this must be the owner, the resident of this place. Whatever it is, you assume is has some sort of control over how you see it, but it appears to be struggling with that.

The creature is almost beautiful, in its own way. Colors shimmer across its shifting form, a sort of shadowy mist wavering around it. You step toward it, greeting it in your own way. It steps back, flinching like a startled animal. After a second of you both staring at each other, it mimics your movement, taking on a form that resembles your own. It leaves the porch of the house and crosses the lawn toward you. You remain in your place. The Resident stops a few paces away. The silence stretches on, until you hear a strange voice-like echo in your mind.

"Hello?" 

You jump, startled, then try to respond. No words form at your mouth.

"Can you hear me?" 

You nod, figuring that maybe this world is not meant for proper speaking. You'll have to be content with listening. At least, until you learn to communicate like this creature does.

"Oh, Good." 

A pause, where you gaze around the area again, unable to stop your gaze from resting on the mess from the storm.

"I'm sorry it looks so terrible right now. There were some... problems. I've just got to clean up a little"

Another long pause stretches on while you wonder what exactly the problems were that caused such a storm.

"Would you like a tour?"

You nod, what could go wrong? Hopefully then you'll finally be able to gain some more information on this strange place.

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The silence beckons from beyond.

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I don’t like doomsday people.

Let me follow that up with what I mean.

People who go on and on about how the world is going to end so nothing means anything. I don’t like that. Who cares if the world is going to end? I don’t care whether or not you believe in a life beyond or anything, I just don’t need my brain cluttered with stuff about how everything is pointless.

But, I am a doomsday person.

Not in quite the same sense. Everything isn’t pointless because the whole is going to end, no. Everything is pointless because as an individual person, it’s hard to do anything meaningful in this stupid short life

Here’s what I mean,

You hear of famous people, right? They have a legacy. All these historical people. But that’s only a tiny fraction of all the people who have lived. Only a tiny fraction of us will have a grand story that can be told.

As an intermission, that doesn’t mean what we do doesn’t matter. I believe we all have a small part to play in the grand story, it’s just that later on, only those closest to you will ever know it.

And while sure, I could put in the effort to become someone famous. You’ll all know my name, but… isn’t that selfish of me?

While knowing that only a tiny fraction of people will be known in history, isn’t it selfish that I think I should be one of them? I could do the most selfless things, such as give away all I own, work to help people, but I could be doing that with the knowledge that it will make me known. So, that selfless act becomes one of selfishness.

I could be simply enjoying my life, going to new heights, discovering things that will make everyone’s life better. And yet, I’m being selfish. I’m taking the spotlight, the place in history that could be given to someone else.

And now, to wrap it up. I’m not saying that I’d ever be successful in taking a spot in history. That would be arrogant and narcissistic. I’m just saying, why should I even try? It’ll all be pointless anyway. I’d might as well accept my fate as fading away and live as a hermit inside a cave, writing and creating for myself. I’ll let all you other people fight for the recognition only a handful will ever see. Let one of them be you.

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