#likas

[vampirescloset]

[markodragic]

im so fucking glad the devs said they'll never stop making yakuza games about old men because i swear nothing brings sincere joy to my life like peepaw kiryu

[insufferablemod]

inspired by @limplegsakimbo

[sucredemar]

Go onyon, I need to collect the hexthec

[replikafan]

[neonakto]

about a month ago my friends made me rewatch hxh, so can you guess when my mind fucking exploded

[lullabyes22-blog]

Flatly, Silco said, "Stick around too long, they start playing games. I always warn you." "So you do." "I also warned you to pay the Protection Racket." An Undercity saying. It meant: Use a sheath.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

a.k.a. "Do you like Messy Polycules?"

[featherika]

and they switch it up every couple episodes. riveting stuff

[grrrechka]

They having a meeting

[wieqo]

𑐞𝆬ꮼ🫧 ׅ ํ ႋ DOLLHOUSE🪻⁺ ͙۪ ᡣ𐭩

[nellasbookplanet]

I don’t have very many specific predictions for Downfall (Brennan, if you give me a young Inevitable End I will die of joy on the spot) but something I do suspect is that there will be a vibe similar to the death of Bor'dor.

Here’s what I mean with this: Bor'dor's death was a tragedy. He was a sad, traumatized man who’d had his pain manipulated against him by a cult. In a perfect world he would've gotten help, been deradicalized, not killed in a horrifying manner. There very well may have been better ways of handling the situation that wouldn’t have led to his end; by killing him, Laudna went off the deep end and has since only kept going downward. But here's the thing: no matter how tragic, Bor'dor was the agressor, not the victim. He was a member of a cult that has killed countless innocents. He has himself killed for the sake of this cult. He lied to the bells hells with the full intention of attacking and killing them if given the chance. They weren’t at fault for harshly defending themselves against not only an agressor, but an agressor part of an organisation seeking what may be a second calamity.

I joke about Aeor being an evil, weapons-of-mass-destruction creating hellhole, but its fall was a tragedy. The death of a civilisation is always going to be a tragedy. Even the most evil city in the world is going to have innocents, civilians, children. Striking the entire city down is a horrific act that shouldn’t have happened, but Aeor were the ones seeking to develop a weapon to kill not only the Betrayers but also the Primes, who were allies of mortals, trying to save Exandria. The gods struck out harshly and should perhaps have sought another solution, but they were ultimately acting defensively. Aeor were the ones seeking a weapon to kill their own allies in the war against the Destroyers. Their fall was tragic and avoidable, but that doesn't mean they weren’t in the wrong and ultimately the architects of their own end.

[likae]

Slipping Through My Fingers (A.H. & L.C.)

starring : agatha harkness x fem reader x lilia calderu

sypnosis : someone you love, someone you hate, and someone you remember walks through closed doors. old emotions arise, clinging to the last thread of restraint.

content : angst, repressed anger, and unsaid feelings. there is no happy ending. tread carefully.

word count : 1.4k+

author’s words : this is my first ever published fanfic, yippeeeeeee! i’m squealing in excitement. i genuinely hope u guys luv it. reqs are open! also, please feel free to yap: theories, giggles, memes, etc. i luv reading them! i look forward to whatever is in store, please do enjoy :3!

Clink, clink, clink—a sound that signified someone had entered your store. Having just finished reshelving the stock behind the counter, you turned around to greet the customer with a big smile on your face, “Welcome in to The Old Ages!”

What you hadn’t expected, however, was to be met with the very face you vowed to never see again. The face that filled you with great rage and immense regret. Yet, it was that same face that made you feel a deeper emotion—the kind that was tangible that it extended to a bright glow on your face. The kind that was hard to ignore. This was etched deeper in history, though—just as it was etched in your very heart.

Whatever emotion flickered on your face at that very moment, she had noticed. Yet, you gave it no time to sink in. You looked away, sorting through your thoughts, unsure what to make of the situation. She took small, tentative steps forward—almost as if to let you decide. Decide if you were okay with her being in your space or decide that she had no right to be there. You hadn’t been the best in deciding.

Before you knew it, she stood in front of you. The only thing separating the two of you was the counter. As you hesitatingly scanned her features, a part of you felt taken back to good times; she hadn’t changed. Not a sign of time leaving marks on her supple skin—‘cept for a few wrinkles, maybe. But you had thought it to be a sign of her smiling too much—an optimism you reached for, hoping her life was filled with happy days. You knew it to be unlikely, but you had clung to the dream that she was doing well.

She lets out a small smile—one that seemed to say, "I'm glad to see you've been well"—and that’s when you notice. The very same blue eyes that had the look of the lightest feather seemed to be replaced by something far more heavy and dreary. It shouldn't have surprised you, yet it did.

She scanned your face, as if she couldn't believe you were right in front of her. A tinge of regret, sorrow, and sadness washed over her face, hidden behind that faint smile of hers. Maybe she was reminiscing too, just like you. Her eyes formed a myriad of thoughts—the quiet in the room being an illusion. Though words had not yet been said, the weighing emptiness of sound had said more than enough.

She inhaled deeply, as if to signify she was going to say something. You had hoped it would be something short. Something that didn’t have to dig up older wounds. Something that you could lightheartedly joke about. Something that could keep the conversation excruciatingly short. Something. Anything.

Your name left her lips.

Then a pause. 

Her eyebrows wrinkled just a little. Subtle enough to have been missed if you weren't paying attention. Hesitance was clear as day. She reached for words. Yet, she couldn't say anything.

"How are you?"

A pang went through your chest.

How are you?

You let out an incredulous laugh. Unbelievable. All this time, and the first words she says are your name and a check-up greeting.

How are you? Funny. You wish you had an answer. You didn't know whether you were still in the process of healing or your heart had been carved out whole. You didn't know whether you felt everything or nothing. 

Or maybe, just maybe, you were afraid to face it.

To face the emotions you thought you had long forgotten.

To face her.

"How am I? How are you?" Your sharp tone cut through the air. It had taken her aback, her eyes widening just a little. Perhaps your voice was a lot louder than you had intended, but so much was bubbling deep within you. So, so, so, so much.

Carefully choosing her words, she broke eye contact, shifting her focus to the shelf behind you. The shelf you had just finished restocking was lined up with an array of vintage trinkets: jewelry, picture frames, music boxes, and... cameo brooches. As her eyes landed on them, she stroked the one hanging from her neck. The one she wore as a necklace. Your eyes shifted to it too. Memories hit you. You wish it hadn't.

Her eyes shifted back to you. She stopped touching her necklace, placing her hand on the edge of the counter. She inhaled deeply, her blue eyes piercing through your skin. As if she knows your running thoughts. As if she can hear them all and she's trying to find a breakthrough. That split moment felt longer than it should have.

"I'm sorry."

Your eyes widened, your breath shaking. Two words you would have never thought to hear from her. The two words you wish you had heard a long, long, long time ago. The two words you thought could've solved everything.

But could it?

Your heart raced. Your mind reeled. Two words—that was enough to send you spiraling. You thought it would solve everything. That you could smile and say you forgave her. That you could hug her and welcome her back in your life. Those two words you sought for all this time.

You staggered backwards, your eyes meeting hers once more. Her eyes are glossy. Her hand reached out instinctively to provide a sense of comfort but retracted knowing her position.

You had been shifting between ranges of emotions—ones that contradict and support one another. You had been confused about why now she had decided to show up until your eyes landed on her hand that was resting on the edge of the marble counter.

The black that tainted her fingers was gone. The epitome of evil had disappeared from off her hands. That damned book that had been the catalyst of everything awful. The final straw that drove you to walk away—to walk away from her. 

She must have noticed your hardened gaze. One directed at her fingertips. She took her hand off the counter. Her stature shrank just a little—feeling small. You let out a wry chuckle, and she flinched. The oh-so-collected-and-sure-of-herself witch flinched from your laugh alone.

"Oh, Agatha...," you scoffed, "did losing the Darkhold finally knock some sense into you?"

It was her turn to be taken aback. Hurt was evident in her eyes. Her face fell. Only you could possibly twist the deepest emotions in Agatha Harkness. And you reveled in it.

The pit of your stomach twisted, feeling guilty. Deep down you didn't want to hurt her, but you couldn't stop yourself from lashing out. Old emotions bubbled to the surface, showing the ugly you had hidden all this time. 

"Don't look at me like that. This much was to be expected, no?" Your voice quivered, unsure what to feel.

Agatha looked guilty—felt guilty. You bit your lower lip, feeling awful. In truth, you wanted to hug her, comfort her, love her. But this cannot be a repeat of the same story—one that took place centuries ago.

Both of you flinched when the wind chime let out a sound yet again. Both of you shifted your focus to the figure entering the store. Your tense muscles relaxed when you realized who it was—Lilia Calderu.

She was the older lady who occupied the store next door—sweet, kind, and loving. The exact opposite of what Agatha stood for. All the more, Lilia was a fellow witch.

Your apparent relaxedness caught the eye of Agatha, her eyebrows furrowing.

"Dear, it's lunch break. Have you-" Her eyes landed on the woman before you. "Are you still taking care of a customer?" Worry carried through her voice as she walked to your side, knowing you had a habit of overworking.

Your fingers found their way to the hem of your shirt, fidgeting. A telltale to both Agatha and Lilia alike that you were feeling anxious. That you wished to get away from a current situation. Their eyes flickered to your fingers. Then—to add even more tension—they both made eye contact. 

Lilia's arm snakes its way through your waist protectively. You instinctively melted in her touch. Agatha’s gaze hardened for better or for worse. Lilia’s eyes never left the other woman’s. Then—as if the tension hadn’t been there already—the air became heavier, pressing on your very existence. The burning presence of the woman you swore to never see again and the loving presence of the woman you swore to care deeply for clashed against one another. It was tangible.

“Dear, is she a welcome guest?” Lilia’s sharp tone cut through the air, her hand around your waist pulling you closer.

You hesitated, your fingers leaving your shirt. You paused to look at Agatha. Her eyes flickered to meet yours, her gaze softening when it did. Behind those deep-sea eyes, an apology was spoken yet again. Your heart tightened in your chest.

Lilia’s focus shifted to you. You looked at her, and you were met with a kind gaze. Your heart banged against the cage you kept it in. Your emotions came to a boiling point. Unsure whether to tear the cage down or to reinforce it. Let Agatha Harkness in yet again, or choose to shut that door closed. Forever. And, regrettably, you replayed the memories you lived through. All for Agatha Harkness.

Pain and anger rose.

Yet. Again.

Your face was noticeably shrouded with the deepest of anger and hurt. Beneath that, though, was nothing but pure love for Agatha Harkness. One that will be left bottled up for centuries to come. Love that had a place to go, but it was a place to be left abandoned. A place unreachable—not because you couldn’t go in, no, but because you caged yourself in. To some place safe. A place you fled to, blind.

Both Lilia and Agatha silently waited for your answer. 

A bitter taste seeped in through your tongue, unable to stop the words that followed. “She’s an unwelcome one.”

Agatha’s face fell. Lilia’s was more on the worried side. She spared a look at the other woman—a silent request of ‘go.’ Agatha opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself. 

Uncountable years left a space and gap between the two of you—bigger than the both of you could even care to admit. Time slipped. And exactly just like that, Agatha turned to leave. Slipping through the glass doors, leaving you alone for good.

You let go of the breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Your breathing labored, the air not being better at all even though the woman had left. You were unsure whether a burden was lifted or another one came in. 

Lilia stood by your side, quietly observing you. 

Silence.

“Dear?” She softly spoke.

“Hm?” You looked up at her, quietly wishing she wouldn’t say anything else.

“You okay?” Her hand moved up to your arm, providing a sense of comfort.

You smiled. A smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Are you okay?

You’re not quite sure.

One thing was sure, though: time wasn't and isn't your bestfriend.

Time never heals.

p.s. : boo! did u enjoy the angst? hehe. also, guys, time does heal. if it hasn’t, i’m sending you hugs. i hope u heal well, whatever it is you’re going through. take care!

[p-starz-xx-best-girlz]

[alien-til-i-stage]

While rewatching All-In and paying attention to the lyrics, these lines struck out to me.

“Who will remain standing at the end of it all?”

While this line could be Hyuna talking specifically about the aliens vs the rebellion, it’s particularly curious on why it says this while showing a picture of the three of them.

We see this continue on with these lines too. “Don’t you wanna know?” and while the line is said, it flashes to a close up of all three of their faces, one by one.

I believe this was on purpose, that it’s implying that out of the three of them, only one could be “left standing”.

We know that out of these three, Hyunwoo has already died. One of them is already down and now there is only Hyuna and Luka. The line above “Who will remain standing” implies that only one of those two are going to be left. This might ne foreshadowing a fight or battle between Luka and Hyuna, where one of them dies as a result.

Personally, my own theory is that it would be Luka who dies. We know about his heart condition, which already lowers his lifespan because of how fragile he is, and we see a common theme of characters being saved. We see them being saved by those who love them most, such as Sua dying for Mizi and Ivan for Till. If this theme for to continue, it would strongly suggest Hyuna’s survival, with her having an entire rebellion and friends who care for her, but Luka is alone, all he has is his love for Hyuna.

Anyways thanks for coming to my tedtalk

[replikafan]

[ayatxt]