This is slowly going to become a critical role blog, the way they (all of them) have me in a chokehold. And now it's become all about Agatha. oh well, I do what I want. (35+, they/she)
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Something something this aged something something...
#pfff#👀#pitch perfect#anna camp#at this point im convinced they're all girl kissers#waiting for kendrick and snow
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A second sapphic has hit the pitch perfect cast yall
#what do you mean??!#lets fucking gooooo#not on my bingo card#anna camp#confirmed queer#im late to the bus on this one i know
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I really need motivation to finish this shit.
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— virginia woolf, from a letter to vita sackville-west ↳ ❅ for @cressidascowper
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I thought my heart was going to explode. I was on the floor screaming YES YES YES! I love these two 🌹
#how is this my first time seeing this??#i love them so much#missing them hours#brittany snow#anna kendrick#sendrick#bechloe#kill me
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Bechloe - Valentines
Beca didn’t normally love a mix that she’d made. And she certainly didn’t like any as quickly as she liked the mix she was making right now. It was only two hours since she’d sat down and already she was certain, she was going to love the final product. Which meant any prospective recording company looking for a ‘Junior Music Producer extraordinaire’ would love it too. And that was exactly what Beca was aiming for. Anything to finally quit BFD Records and move to a better company.
She let out a yawn, easing her head from left to right, enjoying the clicking her neck made that relieved the stress on her joints. She was starting to feel her age. How did she know that? Because it was only 9pm and she was already contemplating going to bed.
Gone were the days when she would stay up mixing until 1am, go to bed, then wake at noon. The good old days back in college when really, in the grand scheme of things, she had no responsibilities other than leading The Bellas and getting herself to as many of her classes as possible on time. The simple life.
Now, however, every weekday felt like walking through treacle. The record company she worked for sang her praises, but never gave her a pay rise or promotion to reflect the brilliant feedback. Which meant most of her money went on rent and bills. Not exactly the dream life Beca had expected to have by the time she was twenty seven, but who was she to argue?
Pulling her Beats from her ears to hang around her neck, then pushing her screen-glasses from the bridge of her nose up onto the top of her head, Beca let out another yawn and sat back in her chair. The creak it made was a sound she was more than familiar with, having lived in this studio apartment for more than three years now. It was sometimes a comforting creak - that of her favourite chair. But sometimes it was an irritating creak - a reminder that the chair, much like the rest of the furniture in this crap hole, were beyond their hypothetical use by date. And Beca would just get angry with it, then angry with the world, then angry with her job and the company she worked for. Anger that would turn into tears of despair, because life seemed so unfair.
Then moments after that despair she’d look to the inside of her wrist, at a fairly recent tattoo of a tiny raincloud, and her despair would subside. Because living here in these conditions would be unbearable if it wasn’t for the person she lived here with. The very person who had drawn that raincloud design for Beca to have tattooed. Chloe.
Beca found herself smoothing her thumb over the tattoo thoughtfully, staring over at the pull out bed they’d had to share since moving here all those years ago. Chloe was out this evening on a date. A third date no less. With a guy she’d managed to meet on a dating app a few weeks ago.
Chloe had gone on this date with one intention and one intention only - to get a kiss. The first kiss with this guy who, much to Chloe’s frustration, hadn’t picked up on any of her flirting cues during their previous dates apparently.
Slipping her Beats from around her neck, Beca decided now would be a good time to make a cup of hot cocoa before resigning herself to bed. It was no use waiting up for her best friend - Chloe was often out on a date until 10pm, sometimes even later than that, and Beca didn’t really want to have to sit around and hear how well this kiss had finally been and how it had been well worth the wait.
It wasn’t like she was jealous. She wasn’t. Totally wasn’t. Sure, she and Jesse had broken up a year ago. Sure, she hadn’t dated anyone since then. Sure, she’d started developing feelings for Chloe recently. But that didn’t mean she was jealous that someone out there might be kissing Chloe right this very sec—
—“What the hell is wrong with me?”
Beca almost fell out of her seat as the apartment door suddenly opened and Chloe burst into the room with a huff. A huff that Beca recognised. Clearly Chloe’s date hadn’t gone to plan.
“Um…” Beca began, knowing full well the question had been rhetorical. She watched as the redhead slammed the door closed behind her and proceeded to tug her hat, scarf and gloves off.
“I mean I couldn’t have given him any more opportunities.” Chloe grumbled, lobbing her winter accessories onto the chair by the door, before reaching her fingers for the buttons of her ‘winter date coat’.
“We were even stood under mistletoe at one point!”
Beca scrunched her face up, “Mistletoe? But it’s February!”
“I know! Valentines Day to be exact!” Chloe lobbed her coat angrily in the direction of the chair, missing it completely, “Even fate was on our side, and he still didn’t kiss me!”
The redhead stormed over to the fridge, tugging it open to stare at its contents. Beca watched her cautiously. Interacting with Chloe when she was in this sort of mood was always risky. It was hard to know if it was better to remain quiet and let her say everything, to meet her in the middle and be equally angry for her, or to grab her by the shoulders and tell her to snap out of it. All three interactions Beca had tried in the past. She was yet to be successful.
“Why are you so desperate for him to kiss you?” Beca found herself asking and she took a sharp intake of breath through her teeth. That was a really risky question, and she awaited the inevitable snap-back. But it didn’t come.
Instead Chloe’s shoulders dropped while she turned from the fridge, a bottle of water in her hand, “Because I’ve not been kissed in so long and I love being kissed, you know?”
Beca didn’t know. She didn’t know that feeling. And she hadn’t ever connected Chloe with wanting that either. Which was why she now sat with her brow lightly furrowed.
“Just…” Chloe let out a sigh while she leant back against the kitchen counter, and as she spoke quickly she became more flustered, her hands moving somewhat erratically, “…your face being cradled, the warmth you feel rushing through your body, your lips pressed against someone else’s, your eyes closed while the rest of your senses play catchup, and the sense of feeling complete because someone cares enough about you that they just want to kiss—”
Beca had had enough, the tears that had sprung into Chloe’s eyes being all the required motivation for her to roll her own eyes. So she’d launched suddenly from her chair, had cupped Chloe’s face, and had placed a long firm kiss on her lips.
To Beca’s surprise she didn’t hate the feel of this kiss. She didn’t feel weirded out or anxious. In fact, Chloe was right when she’d said the part about feeling complete. And it was probably thanks to the way Chloe was kissing her back. Or the way Chloe’s arms had wrapped round her waist.
“What was that for?” Chloe managed to choke out as Beca took a whole step back to clear her throat once their kiss had ended. Beca shrugged.
“You said you love being kissed.”
A coy smile slowly crept onto Chloe’s face. A smile that was gradually mirrored by Beca.
“I do love being kissed.”
“Well there you go then.” Beca replied, followed by a purse-lipped smile. The two best friends fell silent, the kissed they’d just shared echoing on their lips. Beca slowly made her way back to the tiny kitchen table she’d been sat at, feeling a blush scale its way from her chest, up her neck, and up and over towards her cheeks.
That had been a bold move, especially for Beca, even though it hadn’t been ‘a move’ at all. Only when she’d started looking down at her laptop, her palms resting flat against the surface of the table while she stood, did she notice the water bottle Chloe had been holding now laying on the floor by her feet. It had clearly been dropped at some point during Beca’s sudden surging move. Dropped and rolled over to the table instead.
Beca reached down to collect it and, upon turning on the spot to hand it to her best friend, she noticed the redhead hadn’t moved at all. Instead Chloe remained in a similar position that she’d been in before, once Beca had broken the kiss.
“You ok there, Chlo?” Beca asked with a smirk. She’d never seen Chloe come down from a flappy-stressy moment this quickly before. It was at this moment, as she held the bottle out to the woman, that she noticed Chloe had been anxiously twirling the rings on fingers. Perhaps Chloe hadn’t settled as quickly as she’d first thought.
“I’d like another kiss.”
Forget the ‘bold move’ Beca had produced a short while ago, those four words had been bold too. Arguably bolder to some. And it had Beca chuckling slightly, that blush returning to her cheeks.
“From me? Or shall I stick my head out of the door and see if old batty Morag from two doors down is available?”
She was joking. Of course she was. Joking about their crazed neighbour who so often stalked the corridors of the apartment block in the middle of the night, a bowl of cat food in one hand and a little ‘tinkle bell’ in the other, claiming to have lost her cat. Fortunately Chloe had sensed the joke, and her shoulders noticeably relaxed as she let out a chuckle of her own.
“I’d really rather it was you.”
“Are you sure?” Beca teased, a broad smile on her face, “Because I bet the hairs on her chin are a delight.”
The apartment filled with the sound of Chloe’s laughter, and Beca’s heart soared at the sound of it. So full and delightful. She hadn’t heard Chloe laugh this way in such a long time. And she could’ve put it down to her teasing sentence, but it may have had something to do with the kiss they’d shared a few moments ago.
Suddenly Chloe snorted, her laughter having become so full, and it had Beca bursting into laughter herself.
“Did you just snort?!??”
“Stoppppp!” Chloe replied, bringing a hand to her face as she tried to muffle her giggles, but Beca was enjoying this too much.
“Well there’s no way Morag will want to kiss you now.”
“Eww! Stop iiiiiit!” Chloe whined, grinning and reaching out to swipe at Beca’s arm with the back of her hand, causing a cackle to erupt from the back of Beca’s throat.
“Alright, alright.” Beca conceded, rocking on the heels of her feet playfully. This was fun. They never had fun like this anymore.
Life seemed so serious and hard work. The monotony of routine, and bills, and keeping themselves both mentally and physically healthy, while trying to keep in contact with their respective family and friends who wanted to know how they were doing. It was nice to have this moment to almost strip themselves back and revisit the core foundations of their friendship. The playful side of it.
“Good job I’m willing to kiss you again, huh?” Beca mused, their laughter having subsided, both now standing with soft smiles on their faces.
As far as Beca was aware, neither of them had ever really considered the other in a romantic capacity. For as long as she’d known Chloe, she’d been aware of a connection they shared. A connection she couldn’t even describe. Over the years, knowing Chloe and spending time with Chloe meant she felt naturally paired up with her. Like peanut butter and jelly. Like somehow being with Chloe made her feel complete. But that didn’t mean they needed to pursue a romantic relationship.
Unbeknownst to Beca, Chloe had absolutely considered a future whereby the two of them had entered a romantic relationship. Many different futures. And in each of them they’d been blissfully happy and in love. Because Chloe was also aware of the connection they had. Of how complete they made each other feel.
“So come on then.” Beca eventually said with an amused expression, her arms held aloft at hip height, awaiting Chloe’s body to inevitably come crashing against her.
“Wait, me??” Chloe looked both confused and amused.
“Well yeah, you’re the one wanting to kiss?” Beca tried not to roll her eyes.
“But you’re the one offering to kiss!” Chloe’s giggle bounced with each word she spoke, and it caused a chuckle to surge from Beca’s throat.
“Jeeze, let’s just agree to disagree and kiss, okay?”
“Fine.” Chloe replied, rolling her eyes with a grin, making her way towards Beca who appeared to be all too happy to receive her.
Hands and arms smoothing to rest comfortably around one another’s waists, the two best friends didn’t hesitate, allowing their lips to interlock once more. This time with a softer pressure, eyes closed with gentle smiles on their face’s.
They remained that way for several moments, with nothing more than the sounds of the clanging water pipes and the neighbours above, below and either side of their tiny apartment, along with the ever present hum from the traffic outside. Occasionally their kiss would break with a gentle click, only to allow themselves to change the angle of their faces, before their kiss resumed once more.
And it would’ve remained that way…if it hadn’t been for their other roommate.
“Thanks for keeping the door unlocked guys, I—”
Fat Amy’s sentence came to an abrupt stop. Beca and Chloe immediately ended their kiss with a sudden snap of their lips, and sharply brought their attention to their Australian roommate. All it took was the sight of Fat Amy’s beaming grin beyond her stunned expression to cause Beca to roll her eyes.
“Amyyyyy…” she warned as she peeled her arms from around Chloe’s waist. She didn’t compute the way Chloe cleared her throat, nor did she acknowledge the way the redhead had taken a step backwards to create some distance between them. If they knew their roommate well enough, then Fat Amy was going to blow all of this out of proportion.
“If you tell me that what I just saw wasn’t what I just saw, and that what I just saw - which apparently isn’t what I just saw - isn’t anything serious, then I honestly don’t know-”
Beca had already pinched the bridge of her nose, her eyelids squeezed tight as Amy rambled emphatically. She knew exactly where this was going to lead if she didn’t shut it down fast. Amy would assume that she and Chloe had been sneaking around behind her back, possibly for years, and would immediately notify The Bellas. Which would lead to more awkward conversations that Beca didn’t have the mental or physical capacity to address.
“-Amy it’s nothing!”
The last thing Beca expected was for Chloe to pipe-up. And she didn’t know why the denial made her feel a little sick. She didn’t know why it made her feel as though the rug beneath her feet had suddenly been whipped away.
“What?” Amy sounded wounded, which was what brought Beca to open her eyes again. Sure enough, Amy’s expression matched her tone, “But…”
“It’s Valentine’s Day, Amy.” Beca explained, motioning almost casually in Chloe’s direction, “Chloe wanted to be kissed on Valentines Day, so-”
“-Oh!” Amy’s eyes widened, as though suddenly every answer to every question she’d ever had been revealed. “Right!”
Beca watched in horror as her blonde roommate strode over to Chloe, quickly cupped her cheeks, and kissed her firmly on the lips. Chloe looked equally stunned, the woman’s eyes wide in shock, her arms outstretched by her sides.
There was a weird knot in Beca’s stomach that suddenly tightened at the sight of Chloe being kissed by Amy. A knot she couldn’t quite explain. Was she…jealous? After all, she had no reason to be. Chloe wasn’t her girlfriend. Chloe wasn’t hers romantically. And Fat Amy was just doing exactly what Chloe had asked of Beca only a few moments ago.
But Beca found herself glaring a little at Amy as the kiss came to an abrupt end, the Australian patting Chloe on the head like a dog before muttering proudly “You’re welcome!” then heading over to her side of the studio apartment. Chloe, meanwhile, had cheeks flushed completely red as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve.
“Well that was unexpected.” Beca heard Chloe mumble, the woman beginning to remove the lid of the water bottle as she cleared her throat. Beca was rooted to the spot, watching Chloe closely while her best friend took a long swig of water. And that knot of jealousy remained, bubbling beneath Beca’s conscious mind. Why hadn’t Chloe sounded more grossed-out??
“You ok there, Shortstack?”
Beca snapped her attention over to the other bed to find Fat Amy grinning at her.
“Not feeling jealous are we?” Amy teased, and Beca found her fists balling by her sides, her jaw locking while she found a reasonable set of words to respond with.
“Chloe wanted to be kissed, and she’s been kissed twice so…” Beca managed to muster. She shrugged, attempting to feign nonchalance, while her brain was screaming at how unfair this situation now felt.
So wrapped up was Beca in Amy’s current attempt to tease her, she failed to notice the way Chloe looked over at her longingly. Because, if given the chance, Chloe would make out with Beca again in a heartbeat…
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no ordinary things with you (1/1) (bechloe)
I did this challenge by @ekingston. what a fun idea! And super thanks to @velvetinkkwrites for encouragement and being a co-conspirator.
My "prompt" was: fluff / locked in an escape room / unresolved sexual tension / a hangnail and amazingly, the Bechloe just flowed. I love these dummies.
Summary: Beca and Chloe are stuck in an escape room. Good thing Beca is an extremely calm person.
Word count: 1,000
Read on AO3 or below.
****
It’s Amy’s idea.
It’s always Amy’s idea.
And yet–
“I knew this room wasn’t meant to be completed with just two people.”
Somehow, Amy is not here.
Chloe sighs in response to Beca’s short tone. “Bec, it’s fine. We can just wait it out.”
A familiar flare of a decade-old competitive streak flares up in Beca at the mere thought—something she had thought long dissipated once they left university. Yet being trapped in a small enclosed space with Chloe Beale has once again made Beca’s fight-or-flight instincts rise to the surface.
“Why would they even allow us to do this room knowing that we’re two people and not three? They saw us walk in. They heard us say that Amy would be late.” She glares at the puzzle before them that clearly requires at least three pairs of hands and not just the two they have presently available. “Now we’re trapped,” Beca enunciates in an extremely chill, not dramatic way.
Chloe’s voice. “Come on, Bec. We can at least try.”
Chloe’s soothing encouragement and endless positivity combine to make Beca feel like somehow, they’re back in college and maybe back in the stifling heat of Aubrey’s corporate torture retreat.
Shockingly, not Amy’s idea.
Chloe’s idea, actually.
God, that had been a time.
Beca glances at Chloe who is running her hands over the surface of the platform in front of them, clear ridges and grooves meant to be manipulated by multiple sets of hands. It’s a spy-themed room, meant to be dark and mysterious. The dim lights aren’t particularly calming to Beca right this second, especially because the lack of light somehow serves to make Chloe prettier, which is, like, extremely unfair to Beca.
It’s kind of the whole reason why Beca’s kind of being short with Chloe, when it’s really the last thing she wants to do, but distance has always served her well. The issue is that distance in a shoebox studio apartment in Brooklyn is kind of hard to achieve especially if she is sharing an uncomfortable pull-out bed with the person she kind of wants some distance from.
It’s just that…the whole being friends with her ex thing is not working out. Jesse is clearly still bitter and Beca is exasperated, which has never been a good combination. It’s even clearer that they don’t work as a couple now than ever before, now that Jesse isn’t attempting to be remotely chivalrous or protective of Beca’s feelings.
Or his own insecurities, evidently.
It’s kind of the whole reason that Beca is doing her best to not stare right at Chloe’s lips. Because of Jesse’s bright idea that Beca had long-harbored feelings for Chloe and that was why their relationship didn’t work out.
She has tried to convince herself that it’s just Jesse’s latest wayward accusation in a string of accusations and his dickish behavior isn’t one that she needs to pay close attention to, but this one sticks.
It lingers and gnaws at Beca uncomfortably.
So much so that she has been dreaming of Chloe and her smile and her stupidly blue eyes.
The worst part is, she doesn’t hate it.
So, suffice it to say, Beca’s running on nerves and anxiety and of course, Amy’s bright ideas aren’t particularly thrilling to her right now. She’s stuck alone in a locked room with Chloe Beale, who looks unfairly gorgeous with her lower lip between her teeth as she puzzles out the clues around the room. And she keeps touching Beca too, with her pretty hands and smiling at her with her perfect teeth.
“...Bec?”
Beca blinks.
“Sorry, what?”
“You were frowning.” Chloe’s tone is concerned, but she nudges a foot forward playfully. “Not new, of course. Just frowning harder than usual. Is everything okay? Did you figure something out?”
That I want you.
“No,” Beca answers, groaning internally when Chloe’s face falls at her short tone. “No, sorry—hey. I just…it was a long week at work and-and–” she falters, trying to find any excuse because now Chloe is all perked up and gazing at Beca with such sad, concerned puppy-dog-eyes that she has to say something. Anything, really. “--this stupid hangnail made it really hard to mix because it—”
Chloe gasps, grabbing at Beca’s hand, suddenly. “I told you to moisturize,” she chides.
“Chlo–” Beca tries to take her hand back, but Chloe holds fast, fingers delicately running all over Beca’s hands like she’s solving a puzzle. Beca had not thought this through.
She hadn’t considered the possibility that Chloe’s hands, which were doing sinful things to her in her dream just the night prior, would actually touch her like this.
It’s not even an intimate touch, not really. But Chloe has a way of making everything she does feel like she’s doing it as her last act on Earth. So now, with Beca’s hands in her own, she is being exceptionally gentle and thorough as she tries to find the wayward hangnail that had apparently bothered Beca so much that she was acting out in a random escape room in a random building in the middle of Manhattan.
Because Chloe Beale is the only person to fix all of Beca’s problems.
(The entire issue is that…well, that’s probably true. Beca doesn’t want to deal with that right this second. She doesn’t want to deal with the knowledge that everything she wants is right in front of her.)
Chloe lifts her gaze, eyes alight with something that Beca can’t quite place.
(And this part—the part that tells her in a small, defiant voice, that maybe what she wants…wants her back.)
Fuck it.
A distant buzzer-like alarm crashes through the room, jolting them apart. Beca thinks that if she really is asleep now, this is maybe just all one horrible nightmare because surely—surely—if this were a dream she’d be able to kiss Chloe.
If this were a dream, she’d grab Chloe’s head and kiss her.
And based on the look in Chloe’s eyes, she’d kiss her right back.
fin
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I loved this show so much haha
Prints!
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Other things that make me insane about Agatha/Rio:
the fact that Rio has spent the last three centuries watching Agatha age and change from a teenager to a fully middle-aged woman
the fact that they've spent so much of Agatha's limited lifespan being angry at each other
Rio being so in love with Agatha - perhaps more in love with her the more Agatha tries to run away from her and all she encapsulates (mortality, aging, and death) - that she refuses to let go despite the inevitable end that, as the natural order of all things, she's known is coming from day one
the general metaphor they are about not only self-destructiveness (Agatha being in love with Death), but also fear of aging and death (Death being in love with Agatha and impossible to escape)
the incredible humanity of both of them in such different ways, and what it means for Death in particular to present as a woman, practice as a witch, and be susceptible to something as human as love
Are we still insane about them, y'all? I'm still feeling insane. Just wanting to do a vibe check.
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imogen temult x the last of us (commission for @fearnesbells)
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Agatha kissed Rio because she wanted her to be the last thing felt. The last thing she tasted. The last thing she smelled. The last thing she saw. She wanted Rio’s love to be the last thing she experienced before she died.
It was the only way Agatha could say she was sorry and ask for Rio’s forgiveness.
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‘And Death wept for Agatha Harkness,
Done done done done!!! Still not sure how i feel about this but given that i havent painted with acrylics in a while this was fun :3 thank you for the nice response on previous posts love u silly people on my phone



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I just realized something about Agatha All Along. Everyone who walked the Witches' Road got exactly what they wanted.

Jen went on the road to find her powers (both inner and outer), and that's exactly what she got. [She was really the only one who went specifically for power.]

Alice went on the road, not really for answers about her mother, but to end her curse. Her curse ended.

Sharon (Mrs. Hart) went on the road 'cause she wanted to go to a party. They went to a nice house, hung out, and drank wine.

Lilia went on the road, not to get her powers back, but so she could remember herself and realize her full potential as a witch (not relating to magical power, but to the power of identity).

Billy went on the road to find his brother. He found him and made it possible for his brother to come to the physical world.

Rio--yes, she technically walked the road--wanted Agatha's forgiveness. I believe that kiss was Agatha's way of saying she forgave her, even if she still couldn't face her (and Nicky) in death and became a ghost. Some might say she had to kiss her to syphon her power, but I think she could have done it another way. She chose the "kiss of Death" as her way to go. And there is the beautiful metaphor of Agatha "accepting" Death. She accepts that this is who Rio is and forgives her for having to hurt Agatha by doing her job.
Agatha, again while saying she wanted her powers back, actually wanted closure. Death would not stop pursuing her. Their history, and Billy's presence, meant that she was continually reminded of her grief over her son. In order to protect herself, emotionally, Agatha had put up walls and hid herself behind a thirst for power. It's why she says in the beginning, she's vulnerable "only physically". On the Road, Agatha became emotionally vulnerable to Billy, Rio, and even the others. And while the last trial was meant to be for the Green Witch, Agatha did it herself. Alone. She was forced to feel that sense of powerlessness once again. The Road taught her that her feelings of vulnerability, of powerlessness, what probably felt like the death of herself, would lead to new growth in the form of a connection with Billy, an understanding and forgiveness of Rio, a true connection to a coven (it was Agatha's encouragement that led most of them to discovering their own truths), and a true surrender to the powerlessness of an actual physical death. So, I guess you could say, she did gain power (the power of vulnerability). It just wasn't the kind she was expecting. But I choose to call it closure, because she "settled" a lot of what was causing her to seek magical power in the first place.
Everyone got what they wanted but maybe not in the way they were expecting.
#throwing my phone at the wall#throwing myself off a cliff#i cant move on#love this take#agatha all along#coven of chaos
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KATHRYN HAHN Afternoon Delight (2013)
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something i find very compelling about agatha is that for a self-protective character, she is surprisingly unconcerned with her own redemption. selfish villains usually try to make people see them as the hero, but after being persistently villainized and punished for things outside of her control (her mother trying to execute her, generally living through the witch trials, losing her lover and son bc of things tied their identities), agatha was essentially like — fine, you want a villain? i’ll give you a villain.
she knows that a large part of it is a performance and she lets people believe it because it’s the only thing that gives her control over bad things happening to her. salem seven wanna kill her? yeah, makes sense. every other witch hates her? yep, did that on purpose. nobody can hurt her more than she’s hurt herself.
and like, yeah, she’s still a villain and definitely having fun with it lol, but it really does seem to come from her realizing that nobody is ever gonna see her as anything else, anyway (except for rio, who she’s absolutely fucking terrified of, despite also being madly in love with her) (i would like them to get back together please and thank you)
and idk! there’s something really special to me about a queer person being like, actually, fuck you all, i’m going to be every bit of a menace you told me i was.
#love this take#we're for womans rights and wrongs#gaslight gatekeep girlboss#agatha harkness#she is babygirl#agatha all along
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‘Critical Role’ Cast Teases Its Future and a Potential ‘Passing of the Torch’ Photos by Heirlume Photography
#they all look so good#so so so hot#all of them#taliesen usually isnt my flavor but damn#the fit is fitting#critical role#laura bailey#travis willingham#liam o'brien#ashley johnson#sam riegel#matthew mercer#taliesin jaffe#marisha ray#im in love with them all
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i'm weak

the parasites... they're taking over...
i'm gonna start howling and whooping like a monkey
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