"What's your favourite colour then doll?"

"Pink". And it was somedays. Other days it was black or red or purple but when sexist assholes ever asked me- it was always pink.

How's the Weather?

People usually dismiss the weather as a topic of conversation but I could never say in enough words how much I adore it.

My mother loves the rain. t waters her plants, fills her tank and looks pretty when dripping down the windows.

My nephew likes the fog. Likes to run in it and disappear and giggle yelling to me to try and find him. I follow with a laugh of my own taking a while longer than needed.

My father likes the sun. Likes the flame of his grill and the sweat beading his hairline as he passes the ball with friends he's known longer than me.

I love all of it. Taking a photo of the windows for my mother. Chasing and laughing with my nephew and sitting an watching my father.

So Yes. I quite like talking about the weather.

"You know sometimes I'd hope- that you and him would work". I turn to him, his face slightly illuminated by the flames but his expression still unreadable as always.

"Yeah?" I say because I don't know what else I could say to that but he nods sagely, believing his words with full confidence like always.

"Yeah. You made him better... in a way. And I think in another way he made you happy".

My throat began to close up on me and I had to look away as my eyes began to sting because he was right. Of course he was right. I had been happy. So happy.

"Writers are dreamers, they'd rather be walking on clouds than down here with us lot. So if you find one who'll stay down here- in this disappointing world. Hold onto them. Maybe one day they'll take you to their paradise and you'll get to walk with angels"

The wise old bookshop owner to the boy who stops at the corner store everyday for the girl who writes in the window

Take My Hand

I don't know why I did it. All I knew was that she was there, standing in the rain, left alone by a man- no a boy who wasn't worth a second look from her. She was still, muted like I'd never seen before. The girl so always filled with fire and fury and attitude had receded into her own head and looked as if she had left to her own plane of existence, leaving all of us behind. Leaving me behind. Maybe that's why I did it.

Extended my arm like a lifeline, black umbrella clutched tightly to cover her from the torrent seemingly drowning her. Both in her head and out. She looked at me with no expression, none of the hatred that I was familiar, none of the disgust or arrogance. It was wrong. It was unnatural.

And yet I couldn't help but think about how devastatingly beautiful she was, how she always was- even now. Her car pulled up and she walked away without a word.

I wonder if I should have said something that day. If it would have saved me a lot of pain- but well there's no point on if's now. Not anymore.

Not a Fairytale

Story ideas based on transmigration manhwas part 1/?

Presenting Merlin Bontiana...

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I escaped four times in the first month. The first time was on the night I arrived, confused and aching in pain. I only made it a few inches past the main gate before I was dragged back by my collar. The second time was only a week later, I’d known only a little more than I did the last time. They called me the wrong name, that I was there to learn to fight in the ‘glorious’ battle against the Kuguris and they told me my ‘parents’ whose names they didn’t even know had signed off on my enlistment. When they left a door open I didn’t hesitate to run again but this time I wasn’t just locked in a room. Apparently the archaic looking military camp had decided to stick with the theme when it came to punishment. I was struck twenty five times, spat on and starved for two days. I heard the guards joking about how it would temper me, the marshall saying how I should learn my lesson. 

I got up and ran again. I’d only been there a week but I knew when the guards passed the main gate, I waited this time, more patiently, listening a bit more than last time. I slipped past in the night only to find miles of nothing, only a vague outline in the distance which could have been anything by how obscure it looked. My legs failed me not even halfway there and I was rounded up before the sun rose. I suffered the same punishment but it passed in a blur to me, exhaustion and hunger numbing me. When I was released I met the other ‘recruits’ who’d been enlisted. Half hated me, said security had tightened because of my escapades. Half admired me, wondered why I tried so hard or suffered so long. I couldn’t begin to explain that I’d woken up here, not knowing these people, this place or even my own name. So I just said,

“I needed to breathe”. 

This is when I met Jonah. A timid boy who floated around the outskirts of the group that flocked to me. In training he was the slowest, the weakest and susceptible to letting people walk over him- stealing his food or taking his clean socks. I wasn’t a martyr but it was like seeing a puppy get kicked, you had to say something eventually.

“You should say something- or you’re not going to make it out of this place”. I thought he’d stutter out some excuse but he looked up at me with gold eyes, brown hair stuck with sweat on his forehead.

“Like you did”. It made me laugh in that way you did when a chihuahua nipped at you in petty anger. I was a head taller and apparently two years older than him and that say I decided he was a kid I’d make sure made it through.

So the last time I escaped, it was two. A back door escape this time. His small hand clutched in mine as I dragged him through the underbrush that marks the forest behind the facility but Jonah couldn’t last as long as I could. He slowed us down to the point we were caught even sooner than my last attempt. I told him I forgot to close the door behind us, which alerted them trying to save him from guilt at getting caught but he’d always been smarter than I gave him credit for.

The marshall wanted to kill me. Waved his sword above my head threateningly and I thought I’d die that day, until Jonah threw himself forward claiming it was his idea, that he should be punished. No one believed him but the marshall seemed happy to punish us both. We sat in a dingy cell for three days, Jonah talked about his family. A mother and father too poor and too kind to save their son from the enlistment. The officers had said my parents had a title but a debt that outweighed it. I didn’t know that story so I didn’t bother to share it.

I was just a kid who woke up in a world of fairytales. But I hadn’t been born the hero or the princess. I was just some military grunt, a ‘deserter’, a ‘coward’. They could call me whatever the hell they wanted but I’d be damned if I sat here and let them dictate my life.

So if you were expecting a happily ever after with princes and princesses- well you’ll only be half disappointed. I don’t how I got here but if this was the start of my life as Merlin Bontiana then I’d make sure it ends the way I want.

If you had the power to control anyone. What would you do?

Would you make some rich asshole pay you a few million?

Would you take over the world?

I couldn't begin to tell you what's possible. But I can tell you what I did.

Todoroki: *crying

Bakugou: *Awkward and doesn't know what to do

Bakugou: Should I make you a tea?

Todoroki: *cries harder