silly yarn

In the Wake of Scandal

(manga spoilers)

At 3:05 am, Izuku did something he hadn’t done in the last four years.

He logged out of his HeroForum account.

It was a forum he’d stumbled upon back in middle school, on the recommendation of a friend-of-a-friend, and he’d lost four straight nights of sleep that first week digging in deeper and farther to what it offered. He dug until he was commenting on All Might Quirk Theory threads that were three-years-dead, until he made a name for himself almost overnight as an overwhelming bastion of hero trivia.

The forum had only grown in the meantime. It blew up at every skirmish. It tracked hero movements moment by moment, pinning locations and encouraging other members in the area to flock if they could. One time, it was shut down for an entire week when a thirteen year old boy stumbled into villain cross-fire while trying to follow the forum’s pin on the hero Momentum.

The HeroForum was Izuku’s everything for keeping tabs on the world he loved. Even after meeting All Might, even after his acceptance to UA, “MightyBoy64”s presence didn’t falter. In fact, Izuku fantasized about the day that he, as a pro hero, revealed himself to be in charge of the MightBoy64 alias. He fantasized about how loyal fans and avid readers would burst to learn one of the forum’s biggest names had gone pro through UA.

Izuku now tucked those fantasies away in the back of his mind. Embarrassed, or ashamed, or maybe just disgusted.

At 3:05 am, MightyBoy64 logged out. And he would not come back.

Instead Izuku put his phone in his pocket. And he rose from the couch in the Class 1-A dorm living room. He navigated to Shouto Todoroki’s room, and he knocked.  At 3:07 am, Shouto answered.

“Can I come in?” Izuku asked. All the room’s lights were on, a soft glow against the tatami mat flooring.

“Yeah,” Shouto answered. He didn’t ask why.

Izuku walked in, aimless at first, before choosing the wall across from Shouto’s desk and sitting cross-legged on the floor, back leaning against it for support. His phone burned in his pocket.

“I was studying for the English test Monday, but I can’t practice dialogue out loud on my own,” Izuku said. He uncrossed his legs and recrossed them more comfortably. “Are you busy? Want to practice with me?”

Shouto sat down again at his desk. He considered it. “Okay.”

Izuku’s fingers twitched, itched, possessed with the subconscious desire to take his phone back out and consume the HeroForum posts like a starved dog digging into fresh meat. He couldn’t help it. It was in his nature.

Especially as the hero scandal of the decade was unfolding.

Whole forums had crashed under the weight of debate. And HeroForum had swelled to near bursting in the last 12 hours as more and more fans flocked to gossip and argue and pry and wring forth every last drop of information they could about the chaos unfolding in the hero world.

Affairs struck the hero world on occasion. Fights between heroes and reporters, displays of public drunkenness, petit theft, public indecency. Silly yarns of gossip that got hero fans through the day were the norm.

This was the first time a hero had been arrested under the accusation of rampant, violent child-abuse.

This was the first time a scandal had struck a hero whose name was known to every breathing person in Japan.

And this was the second time a #1 ranked hero had fallen. All Might only months prior in a battle that obliterated the last of his power.

And Endeavor now, shackled and jailed under allegations of child abuse, felled by an accusation which had been filed by his own up-and-coming hero son, who stated in his only public address that he just hadn’t ever felt heroic enough before to do what needed to be done.

And the name Shouto Todoroki exploded across every forum site imaginable. Izuku had seen it all. Izuku felt sick to his stomach.

Clips of the televised UA Sports Festival were passed around with fervor, every frame inspected for the sake of passing judgement on Endeavor’s son. Every quirk of Shouto’s eyebrow, every shift of his eyes, every tilt of the head—was it the body language of an abused child? Of a liar? Of an attention-seeker?  Of someone looking to destroy his father and take his place in the public eye?

Fiery callous rants tore away at the character of Shouto Todoroki; others dissected Enji Todoroki, and explained how from the very start the man should have been pegged a monster. Threads hit their post limit. Servers crashed. Fan sites of Endeavor came under storm.

“Midnight’s-Man-X” called it petty for Shouto to accuse the father that he no longer lived with. “AllSuperFan100” lauded it as brave. “HeroMight12” wrote a rant, 13,500 words in length, about how the state of the world could not afford to lose another #1 hero so quickly, given how unstable the environment had only just become, how many more lives may be at risk now, and that it was ultimately selfish for Shouto to rob Japan of its #1 hero so soon after All Might’s fall.

MightyBoy64 tried once, just once, to explain why Shouto had done the right thing. Why letting his father cement his role as the #1 hero would be wrong. Why Enji Todoroki deserved to face justice for what he did, in the face of the overwhelming of evidence against him in the form of Enji’s own meticulously-documented “training plan” which he had put Shouto through.

And Izuku had been too horrified by the replies to try to argue any further. Because all of them, whether agreeing or not, did something vicious to Shouto Todoroki. They reduced him to a character, a prop, a toy to be tossed about and chewed over and twisted in favor their own political view. Shouto Todoroki wasn’t real to these people.

And maybe, if Izuku had never come to UA, Shouto Todoroki wouldn’t have been real to him either.

So he’d logged out, and forced the forums from his mind, and sat now on the smooth ridged tatami matting, his fingers trailing along its bumps. Izuku watched Shouto’s face, his scar thin and stretched at the edges, his cheeks round and soft under the lamplight. His bangs were loose and messy, as though Shouto had been running his fingers through his hair too often lately, and his eyes were lined in a bruising purple, as though he were a real person wrung through the stress of being reduced to a prop at the hands of millions of people.

“…Present Mic said we just need to hold a conversation with him using 20 vocab words from this unit. I’ll start,” Izuku said. He pushed himself higher against the wall, and he breathed in deep, thinking about the English sounds he struggled most to pronounce. “Are you alright, Todoroki-kun?”

Shouto looked at him, silent a moment. Then answered in Japanese, “Isn’t this unit on vacation activities?”

“I’m getting there.” Izuku leaned forward, more heart in his words. “How are you feeling, Todoroki-kun? Aren’t you tired?”

Shouto still hesitated, though not as long this time.

“No. I’m not tired. Are you?”

“No, I’m not. I will stay here with you, and practice English, so we will do well on the test. What is your favorite ice cream flavor?”

Shouto looked down at his desk briefly. Izuku caught a glimpse of papers that looked far too official for UA class notes. His eyes flickered to the laptop open next to them, displaying a blank new tab, though the row of tabs along the top suggested an endless cascade of news articles open on Shouto’s laptop.

Shouto eased the laptop shut, pushed his chair away from his desk, and he stood. He moved to Izuku and lowered himself to the floor, leaning against the wall, until the pent up tension in his shoulders eased, and the back of his head touched the wall, and he breathed deep. His whole body became something smaller, and more child-like, and more relaxed. The exhaustion in his eyes became something just a bit less tense.

“I like chocolate ice cream best, Midoriya-kun. How about you?”


First Time at the Beach, Part 3
(Parts 12, and 4)

I have only ever seen the ocean from inside a boat before.  So my first time at the beach, I kept trying to run into the great big ocean to see what it was like!  Mom kept saying this was a bad idea and turning me around.  Even without digging, I discovered so many treasures on the beach:  A delicious crab claw, brightly colored flip flops, and a fence I couldn’t fit through no matter how hard I tried.


September update.

Current length: (roughly) 213′ 4″ or 65 meters

Thank you very much for checking out or following my blog. I hope to have another update coming this time next month. 

As an apology for taking so long to get a new mesurement I have included a picture of my cat. He likes to watch me work on the scarf sometimes.

Keeping being super awesome!

scrollingdown  asked:

Core, Danny : 3

Based on a headcanon/plotbunny that went around a while back.

He was at the mall (for hiding-from-parents-and-also-Dash reasons) so he figured he might as well window-shop for a while. It was nice to have some time to himself, to relax a little and just be one more normal face in the crowd.

And now everyone in the mall was screaming and running or shivering under a table because, what? Because some joker had the bright idea to go up to random passers-by and flash his heart at them? As in, he was literally pulling an ectoplasmic mock-up of a still-beating heart out of his chest and shoving it in people’s faces, terrifying the late-afternoon crowd into a panicking mob.

Which was really ridiculous. It was just an organ – the memory of an organ, for crying out loud. Ghosts only needed an intact core to live-

Oh. Oh, this was a really epically terrible idea. (It was going to be so much fun.)

Danny ducked and squeezed and elbowed his way into a tiny gap between buildings. It was a dead end; it ended with a janitor’s closet and some kind of maintenance room. Danny turned his back to the janitor’s closet and phased a hand through to open it. He pushed the door open just enough that he could squeeze through in a hurry if he had to. With a plausible escape route set, he was ready to bait the trap.

Danny was used to pushing his ecto-energy back when he needed to pass for human. For this to work, he’d have to flood his system with more than enough to last him a while. He tugged at the indefinable cold that slept somewhere in (and nowhere near) his chest. Finally, when he felt full to bursting with power, strong enough to take on worlds and win, he cut the flow.

He took a deep breath and shouted at the interloper. “Hey, heart-guy!”

Oh, seriously? Well, he was trying to look like an easy target, but clearly he needed more organ-related insults. …that was not a sentence he had ever imagined himself thinking before.

The guy grinned and floated over. “Oh, you think you’re a tough guy, eh, boy?”

Danny bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t laugh and spoil it. “Heck yeah, I’m tough. Tougher than you. What, you think pulling your heart out is scary? It looks like green Silly Putty with yarn stuck to it.”

Definitely needed some better insults.

The ghost puffed out his chest. “What, you think you can do better than – this?

…yep, that sure did look like a slimy green heart. It was even anatomically correct, as far as he could tell. This guy must have a really good memory for physical details.

Danny shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Try me,” the ghost sneered.

“Okay.” He pulled his core out and held it to the light, a bubble of shining blue cradled in living green.

The ghost flipped out. Shrieking in incoherent fear, he let the memory-heart dissolve into inert ectoplasm (that was going to stain the floor, oh well, not his problem) and flew straight up and outta there.

Danny laughed a bit. The noise rang in his ears, the air clumping uncomfortably warm and damp into his lungs, and he set his core back where it belonged.

Swaying on his feet, Danny leaned back against the reassuringly solid door. Which he’d unlocked, so it gave way under his weight. He toppled over a cleaning cart and somehow managed to bang every joint on his body on something in the process.

He picked himself up, brushed himself off, and told himself: Worth it.


Adventures with gckaf!

Meeting two different Captain America’s at once was very exciting, especially when I got to try on a shield! But I couldn’t help being distracted by something under the couch. Maybe friend gckaf’s handmade life-size Cap shield will help me get under the couch!

One day, one rhyme- Day 313

My Aunt Nellie was a tad lazy,
She lived a mile away.
Her chores were always due tomorrow
And never due today.
She was not a woman to stand up
When she could be sitting,
And the only thing she ever did
Of use was her knitting.
She handmade all of my pullovers
(Fancy name for sweaters)
In awful scratchy yarn, complete with
Neon Irish setters…

Here is the place where I love you

Author: @xerxia31

Rating: T

(so I know it’s late, but this just wouldn’t leave my head and I figured what the heck, I’ll submit it anyway)

The cottage isn't anything like I was expecting, tucked into a copse of trees, the roof nearly obscured by moss. From the outside it’s little more than a scar on the pristine lakefront, a shack unworthy of note.

The inside, though, is all Effie; shelves of porcelain teacups and starched white doilies, shades of pink everywhere.  But it’s snug and bright and well appointed, with indoor plumbing and modern appliances.

I didn’t even know this place existed until a month ago, at the reading of the will. Eccentric aunt Effie had no children of her own, and while I wouldn’t have put it past her to leave her worldly possessions to Buttercup, her crotchety old cat, I wasn’t too surprised to get a call from the executor.

She left my sister, Prim, her New York apartment, packed with a lifetime’s worth of antique furniture and tchotchkes. To our cousin Johanna she bequeathed her Miami condo. But to me she left a derelict cabin, deep in the North Carolina woods.

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