Every so often, I like to go through my bookmarks, boosting random from the past. I did so today, also. And each time, it strikes me just how many there are, and how beautiful they are.
Brows through that hashtag sometime. All the way back, if you have the time. It's very worth it, trust me.

"Hey, um ... would you like to come to my place later?"
"What, are you asking me out?"...
"N ... ye ... uh, I mean, I found this cool book ..."
"I'm not really a fan of reading. Dyslexia and stuff, you know? Also, books are boring."
"What if I read it to you?"
"Hmm ... sure. But only if I can curl up against you on the couch, and use your shoulder as a pillow."
"Um, OK?"
This book wasn't boring.

She walked into the dining room, just barely having woken up and hoping for breakfast, and saw her brother sitting on a chair.
No, not just a chair. HER chair!
"Hey, that's my place! Move!"
"Move, or I will move you!"
"How about you just go sit somewhere else instead?"
And thus, the operation "Chair War" was on.

"How about we just cuddle and watch a movie?"
"With popcorn?"
"I think popcorn is overrated. Don't get me wrong, it's not bad, but how about breadsticks and dip?"
The lovers did go watch a movie. But they were so busy playfully arguing about which snacks are better -- and later about fruits, and cheese, and which microorganism is the coolest -- that neither could tell you what it was about. Still, they had fun.

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"So, how was that?"
They had just kissed; she could still taste him, feel the places his hands had touched.
"It was ... OK?"
"Uh, sorry, I mean ..."
"No, I get it. Not your thing. Not mine either, to be honest."
"Really? Cool!" She smiled. "But then, do we just ..."

Heavy raindrops kiss your skin. The gale plays with your hair. The storm's power flows through you.

Then you see her. Frolicking along, like it is a sunny spring day.

How dare she interrupt you! You call for lightning, and fling it at her.

She smiles.

And flicks it back.

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A weak mage's attempt at a river will always become a brook.

If a rock is too heavy, it won’t move.

Wind? Well ... it’s fickle. If it likes you, it might obey.

But fire will always come. Devour everything it can.

I dig a grave with burnt hands.

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Quick! Hide somewhere! You nervously look around.

The table! You dive underneath it, curling into a ball.

His footsteps are so loud ... Don’t move, be quiet.

He's getting closer!

He sprints into the room. You squeal in panic. No, you idiot!

“Found you! Your turn!” Quick! Don’t let him escape!

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