Ahhhhh - Tumblr Posts

1 year ago

someone with my dead-name just liked my post and I don't know how to feel because I don't have a common dead-name


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2 months ago

I don't think the scene with tiny!Arthur in Intermezzo is talked about enough.

John seeing little baby Arthur in a world where he grows up with loving parents, a good childhood, before all the trauma. Before John.


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2 months ago

Who’s the fire lit for?

In Part 45 we are introduced to Malam, a mysterious character who seems to enact justice for children who die unjustly.

Whos The Fire Lit For?
Whos The Fire Lit For?

He approaches Arthur, and seems surprised when he discovers that he is the one who lit the fire, as he expected a child to have done so.

I don’t think Malam’s expectations are completely unfounded, as it is not really present Arthur who lit the fire... but the child that went to the Boys' Brigade who did:

Whos The Fire Lit For?

I think that Arthur unknowingly lit the fire both for Faroe and himself (or more correctly, his past child self). Malam was not called in by the fire to bring justice to just Faroe, but also to Arthur.

Whos The Fire Lit For?

Arthur had been forced to metaphorically kill his child-self and his innocence and forced to grow up too quickly for his own good. His childhood had been cut short so suddenly and brutally by his parent’s death, a grief too big and complicated for a young child to understand and work through.

Even now, on the inside, Arthur is still that wounded and timid child. He is still carrying that pain with him. However, the hostility he had to live throughout his life only granted him more wounds and bruises. The soft, childlike and gentle parts of himself were hardened under layers and layers of scar tissue. Arthur had to learn pretty quickly that it was never safe enough for him to be kind and patient with himself. He was never given the time to process his traumas. No one taught him or showed him the love and care he so desperately needed and cried for so long for.

The hurt was drowned by more hurt and it was never tended to, never really cared for. But it never really disappeared or healed. It always stayed deep within him.

But now (finally), for the first time, Arthur’s most devastating traumas (the loss of his daughter, and the loss of his own innocence) have been recognised.

His childhood cry has been finally answered.

The kid Arthur was can finally rest now that Malam stopped by his fire.


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1 month ago

MAG 200 SPOILERS

Thinking about how Martin was afraid of fire and burning yet he died holding Jon in the Panopticon fire


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3 years ago
--

-𝕤𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕤-


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1 month ago

liking girls as a girl in a conservative area is torture


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5 months ago
Reflection

reflection


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1 year ago

NAH😭😭😭😭

so I was at my local bookstore and they had these signs that were like “he’s a 10 but….” to advertise romance books it was all cute and wholesome until I saw the one for shadow hunters it said “he’s a ten but he might be your brother”

kill me now please💀


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5 years ago

Hi, school start Friday

So since I’m from Canada school starts Friday and that means having my first human interaction since the last day of robotics.

Hi, School Start Friday

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4 years ago
You Look Like Inko, But My Boy, You Have Your Fathers Eyes.

you look like inko, but my boy, you have your father’s eyes.


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7 months ago

For You

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bleed me dry

If your petals have wilted

Tear the skin from my bones

If your scars could be mended

I am yours

To devour

To abuse

I bestow myself to you

You’ll refuse

In such perfect, but predicted nature

But I’ll insist

If one so divine as the angels above,

A deity told only in legacy

Must stand before me,

Cherish me,

Love me

Then I shall lay down my life

I shall sacrifice my soul

I give you everything

You’ve blessed me with entrance past the palisade

A trusting vulnerability, I see the misery and burdens beneath

For all of you

The least I can do

Is become your healing


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2 months ago

Magic Man

Summary: Who was once a failing magician, ended up finding the spark he needed in the worst way.

How Atsuhiro Sako became the villain called Mr. Compress.

A/N: Major character death, abuse of authority, origin story, unemployment, murder, violence.

If you are sensitive to these things, please avoid!

Once again, Atsuhiro walks off the stage in shame. This is the second time he was booed. A showman with tricks is always welcomed. At least it was until lately. He cannot figure out what went wrong! Is it the obviousness of his quirk? Making things magically appear can be tricky to figure out. Then again, in today's world, anything can be explained.     

No one believes in magic anymore. Especially with quirks running around. Sighing, he goes home and silently hopes he doesn’t see the lovely you, his dearest friend. He opens the door to his apartment and smells pancakes. That can only mean two things: you broke in and he is out of ingredients for everything else.     

Atsuhiro comes from behind you and wraps his arms around your middle. Humming in acknowledgement, you rub the top of his head. After asking how he is, your affectionate friend cannot say. It doesn’t take the smartest person to figure out what happened.     

“Don’t worry, magic man," A nickname you gave him years ago that stuck ever since. It fit him greatly since he became a magician and didn't just use it for a hobby. "Everything will be okay!” Your voice is reassuring as hell. It always is. Sometimes he wishes you were honest about your feelings about him.  

How long has he carried a torch for you? Do you feel the same? He is quite the loser, so no way could you be experiencing the butterflies that soar within him when he knows you’re there. He doesn't even need to see you for him to feel this way. Luckily, his ways of being affectionate towards you is welcomed. An excuse to hold you without it being too forward.   

It is embarrassing to hope that you’d give him the time of day.   

  “Out of stuff?” He asks without removing himself from your body. “Yes. But don’t worry,” There you go again. “I made pancakes! And there is honey, just how you like them.” Handing him a plate with a smile, you go back to flipping more for yourself.     

  Another thing about you: you serve him food first whenever you see him. Not just with food either. It's with everything. To him, it shows how much you are covering yourself. Your lack of honesty can be suffocating at times.  Be selfish, be honest! It's okay to complain to me.  

He sits down and doesn’t touch a thing. Atsuhiro waits for you as always. A few seconds later, you sit in front of him and cover your pancakes with the sweet gold. It was something you picked up from him over the years.     

  The two of you eat in silence for what feels like forever. There is something in the air, something unsaid that he is a little leery against. “Buddy, what do you think of me helping you out?”    

There it is.     

“I am getting a promotion and I want to help you.” He wants you to be honest, to be free from those chains of yours because you spare him. But why does this sting? Is it the embarrassment?

“No.”   

“Don’t be prideful. There isn’t anything wrong with a woman working.” There truly isn’t. This is not about that though. This is about his own pride and failure. You working extra to support him is leaving a bitterness in his chest. “I know there isn’t. It’s not about that.”    

“Then what?” You put your last bite in your mouth. Your eyes trail to the last pancake. Quickly you look away and try to start the conversation again. Of course, you save the last for him. Yes, you have your own place and food. However, you sitting here in front of him hungry creates a frustration like no other. Not at you, but the situation. It feels like salt rubbing into the wound. He knows you mean well. You always do.  

He feels like screaming. He takes the pancake and places it on your plate. “Eat.”    

“You’re still hungry-”    

“Eat it. I’m not hungry.”    

“It’ll be fine.” You grab his hand and squeeze it. "Besides, I don't even live here. You don't need to feed me." Looking up at him with such wonder reminds him of how you met. In his younger years he was performing tricks on the street. There were a few people in his audience but none of them held such a look. Complete awe of him, not towards his great-great grandfather. No, just him.   You clapped and cheered him on. Doing that was amazingly flattering.   

   He gets up from the table and puts the last bit of honey on your fluffy pancake. Atsuhiro cuts it up and puts a piece in your mouth. Then he says, “If you want to, then fine.”    

As much as it bothers him because of it feeling like a testament of his failure, he won’t let you go through this. If you are willing to work harder for his sake, then why should he make it harder for you by not helping? Soon, he will look for a proper job. When he does, you won't have to worry about him anymore.   

At night, when it is time for bed and for the moon to shine, you wrap your arms around him and lay your head on his back. His heart flutters in his chest. “I don’t regret you, never forget that.”    

He removes himself for a moment and gets on his knees so he can bury his face in your middle. “You’re my goddess. Forgive me for it all.” He hears a slight gasp. He has always been affectionate, so you have gotten quite used to it. Though the declaration is on another level of sweetness. Being viewed as a deity to a dear friend is a lot to think about.    

“Always.”    

He applies for job after job. No one is biting.     

Every time he is rejected, he remembers his grandfather telling him about his grandfather. How the great villain was capable of doing wonderous things, like Robin Hood. How the man was liberated and yet kind; loved and respected but fearsome.      

  He always looked up to his great-great grandfather. Their quirks are so similar too. What he didn’t like was how people thought of him. Since he is a little older, he lets their opinions go; whether good or bad.

One more time, he thinks. If one more job denies him, he has no reservations then. You'll understand. He won’t kill anyone, hopefully. Atsuhiro can’t imagine the face you would make if you discovered blood on his character. The knowledge of him murdering someone would devastate you. Crimes like murder could ruin the relationship.   

“Perhaps you shouldn’t know then...” He mutters.  

Thinking about his plan b has him remembering when he told you of his heritage. Only that he came from a villain and a family that supported the man’s rampage. You said you held nothing against him. In fact, what you had responded with is: 'How can you blame the child for the sins of his father?'  

Atsuhiro admired you for that. It made him feel good that you didn’t judge or compare him. How many times did people realize who he was related to and cursed him? It was always hero fans, too. Always, it is the hero society that scorns who they consider the lesser beings. Although he has never committed an illegal act, he has had a horrible experience with heroes.  

    Atsuhiro takes a deep breath. That ill feeling still lingers about that. It has been-what?- twenty years or so? 

Cracking his neck, he goes home after another turn down. Sucking his teeth, Atsuhiro is done.    

You don’t come over. Hunched over his table, he fixes a mask out of the material he had from a spare costume then paints it white with a basic design in black. Shoving his feet into his boots, he takes one last look in the mirror. It is his stage costume he always wears for shows.  An orangish button up with a vest, and a hat to top it off. Something fun that grabs the attention of the audience.  

Might as well wear it now. Leaving his house, he turns off the lights.     

His plan is simple. Just rob a couple of people! Nothing extreme or totally dangerous. Before he can walk up to an unsuspecting man, he sees where the mister’s line of sight was. A crime scene that was littered with heroes and officers. Not too long after does he recognize the place.     

Your job.     

Ripping off his mask, he runs to it. Atsuhiro grabs people to look at their face, hoping one is you. They complain about him as he quickly searches for you. The ambulance carries a couple of crying nobodies that tell of the horrific crime. A rogue hero lost his temper and crashed the place.     

Then, Atsuhiro sees you on the ground. Still behind the yellow tape, he pushes past people to get to you. No, no, it can't be you! Not now. Not here. Not like this. As soon as he touches the tape, a hero in blue grabs your shirt, easily lifting you off the ground. “Ain’t this a pretty pity?”   

Your neck cannot support your head. It dangles and your eyes meet his hazel ones. You don’t blink or move.   

“I love you.” Is what you mouth. Atsuhiro screams that you’re still alive. The hero carrying you so disrespectfully, whips around. Whether it was unintentional or not, that action caused you to hit your head on debris, letting out a sickening crunch.    

“Oh shit.”    

“It’s whatever. This cannot go out to the public anyway.” An official says next to him. The hero looks down with a sad face. The man in blue tights lifts you up higher and carries you bridal style. As if that is supposed to help anyone.   

That is how you were taken from him. By heroes that didn’t give a damn about anyone but themselves. But you, oh you...are something totally different. Patient, kind, the love of his life. His greatest friend. And he never got to tell you he loved you. That you were the reason for his every breath. He lived just for the sight of you. Messy or clean, clumsy or graceful, it never mattered. Dolled up or not, you were a goddess for mankind. It was an honor to have been so close to you.    

You're dead, aren't you?   

And you loved him too.   

Later, your family collected your remains. He attended the service and left without a word.    

Weeks, later did he find his laugh. Atsuhiro stood on several stages and performed without a boo from the crowd. This wasn't what he wanted. No, he wanted another form of audience. One that causes him to itch and claw his chest. A scream in his throat that he can't place.

Before he struggled with performing. Could your death have been the cause for this extra flair? The confidence and commanding presence of his is new. He was never shy but he wasn't bold.  

Now, his work has changed. And he hates it.  

On the news, your death was not covered. The incident went without acknowledgement. The temperamental hero was not dealt with publicly or at all. Your family never got closure for your death. No one has. However, Atsuhiro got information in immoral ways covered in blood. The hero that killed you shared an agency with the other. Apparently, both are on sabbatical. Fortunately, it was nothing for him to find both of them.    

Knot and Fury, are their names. Completely tacky. Fury stands by his name as he is easy to set off while Knot had a squeaky-clean record. Atsuhiro doesn’t believe that for a second. The way Knot handled you said it all.    

First, Atsuhiro wants to deal with them, then the agency. How irresponsible could they have been? Do heroes not check up on themselves? Letting bastards like them run the streets is insane.    

He stalks the one that was in blue, Knot. The one that killed you. Don’t misunderstand, it is possible that you were a dead person anyway; that isn’t the issue. The issue is that he did kill you. This so called hero grabbed you without a care, didn’t even attempt to save you, killed you, and of course, instead of helping you the gross bastard commented on your looks.    

Pretty pity. Knot had said that to you. Who does that?!   

Atsuhiro watches him enter Fury’s obnoxious looking house. So, Atsuhiro waits for them to have a sense of security. Why not? Surely that is how you felt when you saw them. Believed you were safe until terror struck.    

Finally, a few hours later, he enters the unlocked house to deal with them. Lounging around with beer, the two say nothing. Knot has his head down, almost like he is ashamed. But Atsuhiro does not believe him. Fury is frowning and tapping his finger on the couch.    

Fearlessly, Atsuhiro comes before them with his mask on.    

“We know why.” And he did it. Painfully, slowly, and happily.    

The same day, he had arrived at the agency with a lighter load on his shoulders and a pep in his step. Knowing that he done a public service is a nice feeling. Vengeance for your poor soul was almost complete.  

Should the agency suffer from their sins? Maybe not. Then again, they knew of the duo's crooked ways. They knew of your murder and yet they let them go. Where was your justice? Or everyone else's that were present at the time? Why is there so much corruption?  

With an exaggerated panache, he appears before the majority of the agency. Releasing marbles of various objects, people scream. He laughs and smiles at the chaos. This is a performance of a lifetime. One question pops up and only once: his name.     

“Dearie, I'm Mr. Compress.”   

It is a fitting name for a magic man like himself.


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1 year ago

I was browsing through Netflix when I saw a trailer for a kids show and omg I couldn’t stop laughing

Who does this look like to you

who does this look like

One of the villains of this show looks like five as a seven year old lmao


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1 year ago

"nothing matters so do what you love and be kind" is the single most viscerally impactful message i have ever gleaned from consuming media and i'm going to live every day with that kind of hopepunk nihilism for the rest of my life


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2 months ago
@puuuders @kabukiaku @ryuzatodraws-backup Can Someone PLEASEEEE MAKE COPIA AS THIS!! I BEG OF YOUUUU

@puuuders @kabukiaku @ryuzatodraws-backup can someone PLEASEEEE MAKE COPIA AS THIS!! I BEG OF YOUUUU


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