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#The Beginning of The End
witchmd13 · 6 months
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Arthur's hand on his sword when uther almost chokes morgana still kills me and the fact that he's standing behind morgana and she doesn't see it kills me even more
Also when she begs him to help mordred he literally tells her he won't betray uther even for a child and the moment she says do it for me he changes his mind like!!!! It wasn't even her who was accused of magic it was for a boy he didn't know!! Girl how did you later think he'll hand you over to uther over your magic!!! THE FIRST TIME ARTHUR GOES AGAINST HIS FATHER ON THE SUBJECT OF MAGIC WAS BECAUSE OF MORGANA
It wasn't gwen when she was almost excuted for magic or even merlin. It was morgana. I have no doubt in my mind that he would've stood up for her and even publically gone against uther for her
I'm just going to chew on the wall now i can't take the tragedy they become
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misspaddockverse · 4 months
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blink twice if you’re not dealing well with the last year of C2
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skoff-the-artist · 1 year
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Recruit
"It looks ridiculous. I'm sure I can talk Megatron into changing it to red..."
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amphibia-a-day · 1 month
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Day 1071 of Amphibia Screenshots
Episode: The Beginning of the End
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sad-scarred-sassy · 5 months
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I just think that Elain will be so surprised when she expects Lucien to coddle her or tell her what to do or that she can’t do what he has caught her planning to do for the first time and instead he just nods and says “That sounds dangerous… and fun”
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vertigoartgore · 2 months
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The Avengers n°291 house ad (1988) by John Buscema and Tom Palmer.
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dont-let-me-eat-pears · 2 months
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rewatching “the beginning of the end”—seeing morgana so kind and compassionate and selfless, knowing what she’ll become in series 3—is just painful. “what if magic isn’t something you choose? what if it chooses you?” merlin giving her this look and morgana asking why he’s looking at her like that. ugh, what could’ve been, how things might have been different, if he hadn’t listened to gaius or the dragon, if he'd confided in her about his magic and then helped her with her own. even if in the end it didn't keep her from turning to evil and on everyone, because the show needed her to be the villain and probably would have found some other way to accomplish that if not the (horribly written, nonsensical) way it did—they couldn't have given us this first? couldn't have given us merlin and morgana sneaking around using magic together, being each other's confidant and supporter? couldn’t have given merlin a friend who knew his secret and was around for more than a handful of episodes? couldn’t have given morgana a friend when she was feeling lonely and lost who understood what she was going through and would try to help her instead of using and corrupting her?
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pippin-katz · 2 years
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This is something I like to point out any opportunity. This is season 1 Arthur; he is pretty much a self centered prat whose only concern is appeasing his father.
Yet, when Uther puts his hand on Morgana, he immediately puts a hand on his sword.
This man is the king. He’s his father. He would do anything to make him proud, but here he is, preparing to draw his sword on him. To pull his sword on the king is not only treason, but a personal conflict between father and son. He tries to avoid conflict with his father as much as he can. We only ever see Arthur become physical with Uther when he finds out about his mother.
This, however, is not a disagreement. He’s not even the one fighting with Uther. Despite this, he is prepared to take physical action against him, because he’s laid a hand on Morgana. He hasn’t hurt her yet, but he has been rough enough that Arthur thinks he may need to intervene, which he would. He would be willing to physically engage his father, the king, for potentially hurting Morgana.
This tiny acting choice says so much about Arthur, yet it goes unnoticed unless you know where to look. This says Arthur cares for Morgana a lot. It implies early on that he’s very chivalrous, and against violence toward women, which we definitely see later in the series.
I think it’s so cool that even at his most annoying, arrogant state, he is a man of honor and compassion. Bradley likely chose to do that, given how small the movement is and how far in the background Arthur is.
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natduskfall · 5 months
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The Beginning of the End
Contains negative "critique", or more precisely, my thoughts and observations, of the newest story quest. Might be interesting, might not be.
Fripp says that the spymaster’s squirrels have reported three Drakonium shipments being simultaneously abandoned. And that’s it? Couldn’t they also tell us who abandoned the shipments, and if any Dark Riders were spotted? And how did they not notice that the abandoned shipments were empty?They must know what a full shipment looks like, what types of containers Dark Core uses. They must have noticed the goons taking the shipments to unusual places, maybe they even spy on G.E.D.‘s mining operations, and see Dark Core loading the shipments. They must know the usual routes. They also could have checked to see if there actually was any Drakonium nearby.
It bewildered hen Alex yelled at everyone to stop. Like chill Alex, we’re just having a discussion, we’re not about to attack each other.
Linda’s comment about there being six of us confused me a lot initially, because there’s only 5 of us soul riders, eight of us if counting Fripp, Avalon, and Evergray.
Alex discourages Anne from creating portals, but is okay with her performing an allegedly hard and elusive spell nobody has mastered or performed in a very long time?
“I won’t bother you anymore with my jumbled thoughts.” …… brother in Aideen you just told me you had some thoughts to share with me. I really wish I could spend more time with Fripp, talk more with him. He might be such an amazing character if there was more to him.
“The future of Jorvik rests on your shoulders.” Gee, thanks.
The “Fripp teleporting away” cutscene was very weak.
I honestly was under the impression that the Drakonium shipment trap was set up to allow Dark Core access to the Library, so they could get to the Brambletween. I had not realised that there is now an army of druids there. So now I wonder why Fripp walked out on us when he didn’t need to go back to protecting the Library.
When the runestone appeared from the ground I thought it was the island itself trying to talk to me. I was a little disappointed to find out that it was a message from the druids.
Also, why did Alex and Anne waste time going to the Singing Yew to talk to me rather then just texting me and going straight to Valedale.
The Drakonium is already all unloaded from the trucks, even tho the Dark Riders want to take it further towards Valedale. And how are Lisa’s healing and Linda’s visions supposed to do anything to stop the Dark Riders?
How big is the Drakonium blast radius?
I’m so glad the writer had Alex ask such an interesting and valid question.
I honestly am conflicted about about the Oil Rig. Android or human, I still feel sorry for the goons. And what about other workers, like Lisa’s dad, or maintanance divers? But also, shouldn’t the Drakonium have been teleported to wherever G.E.D. mines it?
I think that Dark Core can already sue the pants off the druids for destroying and stealing their property.
I actually felt worried that Mr Sands might have died or been hurt. Then I thought that maybe he had been suffering for some years under Garnok’s influence, and this way he could be free, and Darko could take over. And then I was relieved that nothing happened to Mr Sands.
Mr Sands must have other oil rigs, he is an oil tycoon. I still wonder if he had the foresight to stop any drilling that might have been going on on the DC rig (If there was any), so that he wouldn’t lose the oil.
It was cool to see the hostility between the Dark Riders. I always had a feeling like they might actually hate working with each other, and that their working relationship might be strained.
Cool, so the Gate/portal is actually called the Hadal Gate. I wonder if Darko was working on it. It’s a shame it got destroyed.
I really thought the ending cutscene was happening in Wildwoods, but I suppose it’s not. The animation of Sabine swinging the hammer was kind of whack, but the animation Erissa had when she jumped out of the portal???? And her idle???? CHEF’S KISS. But the difference in quality of the cutscenes in one quest that takes a few minutes to finish is jarring.
Now I wonder where Erissa’s Dark Horse is, and what happened to the one Darko made.
I don't like how the writers introduce these new concepts, such as spells, rune warning messages. New rules. Things that are useful for only that one quest, and are never mentioned again. It's nice to have more material for fic writers, but it also would be nice if those spells and concepts would reappear. They either change their mind and abandon that concept or direction, or they forget, or it takes them so long that they're now going in a completely different direction and that thing they introduced is no longer needed or canon.
Overal, I think it was a somewhat okay quest. I think the writing was meh. So were the cutscenes. But I'm just glad that things are slowly moving somewhere. I'm elated that we finally have the fourth Dark Rider, and that they finally showed us some behind the scenes stuff going on with Dark Core. I'm glad they let Dark Core get the upper hand, or also progress with the story.
I wonder if SSE has their game documented. I don't know much about gamedev, but apparently developers use their own wikis to teep track of factions, items, characters, places, narratives... everything in the game. And It seems like SSE either doesn't have one that is up to date, or they just don't have one at all from the previous years, and are now working on a new one?
The name of the quest has me wondering if SSE is perhaps itching to wrap the main story up fast, so they can focus on the horses, outfits, and tack. That is a scary thought.
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Sam: hey Teal'c let's talk. How are the most important people in your life? Rya'c, Ishta and Bra'tac.
Teal'c: they are fine.
Teal'c: how's Pete shanahan?
Sam: 👀 *dies inside*
😆 I love Sam for wanting to talk personal with Teal'c but then clams up about her own life.
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witchmd13 · 5 months
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the way uther tells arthur to attack that druids camp after morgana runs away and actually tells him not to take any prisoners gives me chills. he wanted him to kill everyone in that camp. we even see the people there didn't have any proper weapons on them. they had children like mordred there. they were families. it was literally a slaughter. how did it get brushed over so quickly uther was not only a tyrant but a monster.
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melodylyricx · 1 month
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TOMORROW TOMORROW TOMORROW TOMORROW TOMOR-
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antiquesintheattic · 4 months
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uh oh i’m about to start calculating what would happen to my final grade if i skipped this discussion post…
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midnights-dragon · 6 months
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Nightingale's Lament (Azricrow s3 speculation ficlet, 1.8k)
Crowley has to drive Aziraphale somewhere in the Bentley. They aren't talking. The Bentley is not going to stand for that.
I love the forced proximity trope, and by Neil’s ‘they aren’t talking’, it seems that that may be where we’re headed. And so I raise to you, a thought I had while driving and pulled over to write out. Obviously I've just gone completely insane over that one (1) thing Neil Gaimen said, as well as the s3 confirmation, so enjoy this brain-child one-shot that I had WHILE DRIVING and PULLED OVER MY FUCKING CAR to write it on my phone. Comments very appreciaciated for my own sanity as I am sacrificing the studying I should be doing for my final exams tomorrow in order to obsess over these tragic little gay men (gn). [Ao3 link if you'd prefer]
Crowley, as unfortunate as he may find it, had been tasked with driving himself as well as Aziraphale to someplace in Scotland. It's where the Second Coming is meant to happen, eventually, and so they're meant to be scouring out the lay of the land.
He also suspects that it's a ploy from Nina and Maggie, as well as Muriel, to force him and Aziraphale to work together with just the two of them. And to that he says, the three of them underestimate how stubborn he and Aziraphale can be.
Crowley storms from the bookshop (where most of their planning has been taking place, especially since it's conveniently close to the elevator to Heaven, where Aziraphale has to return, sometimes; he hates it, Crowley can tell, not that he would ever care, right?) and, with a sneer that he slips on as a mask to cover the real emotion stretched across his face, he yanks open the door to the backseat.
He tells the angel to sit there, more or less. Not with his words, but rather, with glares out of the corner of his eye beneath his sunglasses that he never takes off; with a flourish of his hand and a wave of dark-painted fingernails in Aziraphale's reddened face; with the way he blocks the passenger's side door with his lean frame, and clearly jabs his thumb towards the back.
You've lost your place at my side, he seems to say, even if he is not talking aloud, even if he does not look at Aziraphale as the angel obeys the silent command and slips into the backseat of the Bentley. He doesn't mean it, not really. What he means to say is, I want you to sit beside me, but I don't know what I would do if you did. What he means to say is, I can't control myself, being so close to you, being alone. What he means to say is, I need to keep up with this not talking, because if I don't, if we don't, then I don't know how I could bear it.
But he doesn't say any of those things, and Aziraphale does not hear them. They aren't talking. Sometimes they'll speak (usually in gestures, rather than words), but even when they do, they aren't looking at each other. They aren't talking.
Crowley gets into the driver's seat and is silent. He says nothing. He throws the car into drive more aggressively than necessary, and almost feels bad about it, but doesn't, when he catches the flash of white that is Aziraphale adjusting himself for Crowley 'going too fast for him' in the rear-view mirror. The demon growls a little, grinding his back teeth together, and then speeds down the streets of Soho until he makes it to a winding back road that will take them to their destination.
They aren't talking. The car is silent.
As it happens, the car does not appreciate that.
As Crowley turns down the road at a speed that is very illegal, the Bentley jolts, and the demon suddenly finds himself unable to pass forty on the speedometer. He blinks, slow and confused, and his eyes are smoldering behind his sunglasses.
"The fuck?" He growls, low and rumbling, and he smacks at the dashboard repeatedly, pressing his foot down all the way as he bares his teeth and hisses at his car. In the backseat, Aziraphale flinches at the sound of the demon's voice — it is raspy and gravelly, almost smoky with how unused it has become, how deadened.
The Bentley hums (cars couldn't sound smug, logically, but it was a very near thing), seemingly unconcerned with Crowley's frustration that is rapidly accelerating into rage, and then begins to softly croon a gentle ballad of a song from the stereo, the peaceful sound of it filling the silence of the car with a song that both Crowley and Aziraphale recognize all too well from countless nights out at the Ritz together.
There was magic abroad in the air There were angels dining at the Ritz And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square . . .
In the rear-view mirror, behind his sunglasses, Crowley's gaze flits to Aziraphale despite himself — only for a moment, but a moment that says enough. Aziraphale is frozen, and his own eyes are shining brightly with things left unsaid. His eyes — his eyes — his eyes that are violet. 
His violet eyes, which yanks Crowley out of whatever stupor he was in. His violet eyes, because he had made his choice, and it wasn't Crowley. His violet eyes, because he was sitting in the backseat for a reason, and they weren't talking, and Aziraphale never even looked at him anymore, which was a relief, honestly, because Crowley didn't know if he could take looking into those goddamn fucking violet eyes for a moment longer.
Crowley slams down hard on the brakes and rips the keys from the ignition, his chest heaving, his hands shaking. A car behind him blares its horn and swerves around him (thanks to a well-placed miracle from Aziraphale, not that Crowley would ever admit it). Crowley flips them the bird, uncaring and angry, and grieving and hurt and not wanting to listen to the goddamn fucking song for a moment longer, not wanting to see Aziraphale's goddamn fucking violet eyes in his fucking rear-view mirror for any second more. He slams his hand down on the dashboard, again and again and again, over and over, his claws digging into the leather, his eyes squeezing shut and a pained, strangled noise clawing its way up his throat as he slams his palm down, again and again and again.
He is grieving, and he is hurting, and he is angry.
Behind him, Aziraphale is looking away, his goddamn fucking violet eyes welled up with tears not unsimilar to the ones in Crowley's serpentine gaze, white sclera swallowed up by yellow. Aziraphale is looking away, and he is not talking, because he never looks at Crowley anymore, never talks to Crowley anymore, and Crowley both is grateful to him for it and hates him for it, because he wouldn't be able to bear it, but god, he wants to.
Crowley grieves, and hurts, and rages, and Aziraphale cries silently, and does not speak, does not look — and still, their song continues to play defiantly on.
The streets of town were paved with stars It was such a romantic affair And when you turned and smiled at me A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square . . .
"I'm — I'm — I'm not fucking doing this right now," Crowley snarls at his car, hissing between his teeth, blinking hard and fast and willing the tears culminating and burning at his cheeks to just fucking leave him the fuck alone. The Bentley simply hums her engine (despite the keys being gripped in one of Crowley's hands, decidedly not in the ignition, why the fuck did he make her sentient, again?), and the music becomes impossibly louder, and Crowley thinks he could cry, but he cannot, he must not, because — because he couldn't do that now, he couldn't, couldn't bear it, couldn't take it —
I still remember when you smiled and said Was that a dream or was it true? —
And then, above it all, by some cocktail party effect bullshit, because the car was practically screaming with that fucking song —
"Crowley."
Aziraphale said his name. Aziraphale said his name, and Aziraphale is looking at him, and Aziraphale is talking to him, and Crowley had sworn he wouldn't look back, wouldn't talk back, couldn't and mustn't and every other thing in the goddamn world, but fuck, he couldn't take it.
Crowley's gaze flits back to the rear-view mirror, and he thinks that he might choke when he sees the raw grief in Aziraphale's eyes — his violet eyes, he reminds himself, his violet eyes, but — but he can't bring himself to even care, because it's Aziraphale, and he's looking at him, even though they're both grieving, and angry, and afraid.
"Don't — don't be too angry with her, my dear," Aziraphale whispers, and he's still looking at Crowley, still talking to him, and the words my dear seemed to reverberate around the sudden quietness of the car, because Crowley could hear nothing, see nothing, but Aziraphale, who was looking at him, and talking to him. "Or, erm, try not to, I suppose." Aziraphale was wringing his hands together, and his gaze had gone downcast, but he was still talking. "She's — well, she's only trying to help, after all. Only trying to — to make things good, yes?"
Crowley opens his mouth to speak, and chokes on his words. A horribly strangled noise rasps its way from his throat, and he does look away, then, forcing himself to because he can't bear it, and he rests his forehead against the wheel of his car. He's shaking.
He's so tired.
He's grieving, and he's angry, and he's afraid, and he's so goddamn tired.
"I know," Crowley whispers at last, his voice broken like gravel, shattered like glass. He doesn't bother fighting the small, strangled sound that comes out as a whimper and spills from his trembling lips. "I know."
He leans down, and twists the key back into the ignition.
The engine hums appreciatively, and the song continues to play, looping back from the beginning.
That certain night The night we met There was magic abroad in the air . . .
Crowley lifts his head, lifts his deadened, dull gaze, and allows himself one sinful glance back at Aziraphale. The angel isn't looking at him anymore; he's staring down at his hands, and his violet eyes have welled up with tears that cast a pale sheen and makes them look almost blue, and he looks so tired. He looks like he is, just as Crowley is, grieving, and angry, and hurting, and so, so goddamn tired, in every sense of the word.
Crowley sighs. It's an exhausted, broken sound, and it speaks more than he could say in a thousand words of finest poetry.
"I know," he repeats, and he isn't talking about his car.
And then he leans back, and gently presses down on the gas, and continues to drive with Aziraphale sitting in the backseat, their song playing softly over the stereo. They don't talk to each other, and they don't look at each other. But that one single moment with their song, the acknowledgement of a nightingale, of their nightingale, of what their nightingale represented, even with so few words, it — it meant something.
It meant that perhaps, one day, they would be able to rest. Together. Past their grief, and anger, and fear, and hurt, and exhaustion; finding peace, and home, and love, in each other's arms.
And perhaps, as they rested, a nightingale would sing faintly in the distance. They wouldn't hear it, and nobody would know. But it would be there, all the same.
But for now, they did not speak, and they did not acknowledge anything past the nightingale, and for now — until they could rest with peace, with each other, with their love — that would have to be enough.
I may be right, I may be wrong But I'm perfectly willing to swear That when you turned and smiled at me A nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.
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amphibia-a-day · 26 days
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Day 1088 of Amphibia Screenshots
Episode: The Beginning of the End
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phatcatphergus · 3 months
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They’re talking about the Halloween stream I feel ill
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