hoooooooyaaaaaaaay

[whynot]

MORE FLAILING ABOUT MERLIN. Who incidentally has huge ears.

So, I watched the first four episodes online, can't yet find a working version of the fifth episode and MAN. I WANT THE LANCELOT PRETTY, NOW. Apparently he was Isaac from Heroes?? I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE, EPISODE FIVE. I will find you and your little dog too.

I wasn't part of the Xena and Hercules generation, but I kind of feel Merlin is this generation's answer to that. To anachronistic adventure fantasy starring a duo drowning in their own hoyay, that is. EVERYONE, COME JOIN THE MERLIN FLAILPARTY.

BED, this shit is kind of up your alley. I hope you watch it.


Hey, cape aside, that's like Pete and Ed's armor Arthur's wearing?

"Is it my imagination or are you beginning to enjoy yourself?"
"It's not totally horrible all the time." ESPECIALLY WHEN WE DO IT, all night long.

"I wouldn't lie to you." ...already? That was fast, guys.

This is episode two and already we have a "Merlin and Arthur against the world!"

The background music of Merlin and Arthur's breakup scene is hilariously histrionic, wtf.

"The heart cannot truly hate THAT WHICH MAKES IT WHOLE"? Are you kidding me. WOW.

Arthur is SO PRETTY. So pretty. UNGH I WANT.

Arthur/Morgana! I want to like it. But something about it is annoying. Though I am a big fan of how she can make him do anything she wants. ARTHUR. Twisted around so many people's little fingers. Like MERLIN'S. And even his father, in the 'I just want him to be proud of me' sort of way.


I am, like, in love with Arthur's panicked facial expressions whenever Merlin does something stupid and noble. WHICH HAPPENS ALL THE TIME. Arthur has to step in and verbally abuse Merlin while saving his ass, barely concealing his panic and fear and anger and LOVE. AT THE BANQUET, after Merlin makes his wild accusations, Arthur's all like let me handle this 'cos I already know how he ticks apparently. WELL THEN. And Arthur's THE FIRST AT HIS SIDE WHEN MERLIN FALLS TO THE FLOOR.

Only four episodes in and Arthur's already like, "I will go to the ends of the earth for you, Merlin! I will risk life and limb. FOR YOU."

CALLING ARTHUR'S NAME IN DELIRIOUS FEVER? WHAT SWEET NECTAR IS THIS?

WTF DINOSAURS?? Well, I guess not, but it sure as hell looked like a spinosaurus.

OH MY GOD, Merlin sending Arthur that glowing ball of light thing. Lost in delirious fevered sleep and MOANING and his first instinct is to SAVE HIS ARTHUR-KING. SAVE YOURSELF ARTHUR-KING, don't mind my dying self, and Arthur's like OH I MIND IT VERY MUCH for who will I make out with then, WHO WILL unDRESS ME.

OMG I JUST DIED. "FASTER FASTER ARTHUR" INDEED. That was PROBABLY A FLASHBACK TO A FEW DAYS AGO.

Harharhar, his father being all like, "Why do you care so much?" YEAH ARTHUR, WHY DO YOU CARE SO MUCH.

"Yeah, it was nothing," INDEED. You're not fooling anyone, Arthur-king. YOU TWO ARE TOTALLY LOVERRRRRS.

Comments

This is ALL YOUR FAULT

[tricksterquinn.livejournal.com]

The first time Susan met him was at the funeral. She doesn't think she'd've remembered him at all - so much of that time was lost in a blur of shock and grief - except for his unusual behavior. She had been standing to one side, receiving what seemed like an endless stream of mourners she knew only vaguely or not at all, come to convey their condolences. Everyone sounded exactly the same, pale, drawn faces swimming above dark mourning attire, and soon they faded into a blur of earnest faces murmuring identical concerned platitudes, sympathy turned meaningless by dint of sheer repetition. At first, he seemed just like the rest, another pale, serious face swimming above a dark uniform.

"Miss Pevensie, Rhys Emerson. I was a friend of your brother - of Peter." That follows, she thought vaguely. He looked roughly Peter's age, her own age. "I am so sorry for your loss. Your brother-" She might've imagined the hitch in his voice, a tiny pause easily ignored, "-well. He was a king among men." His lips quirked slightly, as if at a private joke.

Susan's eyes snapped to his, gaze suddenly sharpening at this deviation from the standard script. His eyes were a startling blue. "Yes, he truly was." Her lips felt frozen in a polite shape, something approximating the intersection of politeness and grave stoicism, and her voice sounded far away to her own ears. "Tell me, have you known Peter long?" There was something, she could not quite place...

"Oh, yes." The man nodded. "We served together, in the War."

"Ah," She nodded too, as if it meant anything at all. That explained the uniform. "Of course."

He nodded again. She wondered if anyone has ever been nodded to so often as at a funeral. "Miss Pevensie." He extended a hand to her.

"Mister Emerson." She took it, expecting to shake. Instead, he lifted it and bent his head, grazing his lips over her knuckles. His breath was warm through her gloves.

"Milady." He caught her eye and let go, head remaining bent in acknowledgement for half a beat before he straightened to walk towards the door. Susan gazed after him a moment before shaking her head and turning back to greet the next person, retreating back behind her veil and murmuring the appropriate polite and demure responses.

Re: This is ALL YOUR FAULT

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

hfksdhfks AWESOME. milaaaaady oh oh oh <3333. will you be writing more?!
i am glad to be an enabling hand in any and all merlin/narnia crossovers.

I thought that would be it, but apparently I was wrong. *SHAKES FIST*

[tricksterquinn.livejournal.com]

Later, when she stood in Molly's guest room in her worn-out housecoat, carefully hanging up the black dress (cursed thing, she thought viciously, I ought to burn you, but even that surge of hate felt vague and patchwork and far away), Molly had come to lean in the doorway behind her. Susan didn't look, but she could hear her fidgiting nervously. After a pause, in which Susan studied the dress's cuff in more detail than strictly necessary (was it somehow scuffed and frayed already? Hardly, and again her sardonic humor felt distant, but maybe if she stared at it hard enough the threads would begin to snap and unravel of their own accord), she let it drop and sighed.

"Out with it, Margaret, whatever you've come to say." She didn't turn, just stared at jet beading and waited.

Molly sighed. "It's- Nothing, Sue, nothing. I just wanted to see... how you were holding up. To check on you."

Susan's shoulders slumped. Molly meant well, she knew, and it wasn't helping anything to treat her poorly. She turned and crossed the room, guilt clear on her face.

"I'm sorry, Molly. I didn't mean to snap. It's just- it's hard. It's been a long day." Molly nodded understandingly, concern melting into sympathy. Susan thought she might break if one more person were sympathetic to her today, break apart or throw something or scream.

Molly reached for her hand, patting it awkwardly. "I know, Sue. And of course I'm here for you, whatever you need."

Susan pasted a smile onto her face and hoped it looked right. She couldn't be sure, grief and hours of remaining polite in the face of an overwhelming urge to scream or to sob or to somehow lash out had left her muscles aching and not a little numb, and now she didn't trust them to respond properly.

"Thank you, Molly. You're a good friend, and probably better than I deserve right now." Molly made as though to interrupt, and Susan held up a hand to forestall her. "No, really, I've been - I'm being - wretched, absolutely wretched, and after you've opened your home to me."

"Well, I couldn't let you stay in that--" Molly interrupted indignantly.

Susan smiled again, more genuinely this time. "I know. But I do appreciate it, and I want to make sure you know that. I just..." She shook her head vaguely. "I think if one more person offers me their condolences tonight I might just scream."

Molly's expression dissolved into understanding. "Of course, dear." She patted Susan's hand again, but this time it was less like she was treating Susan as if she were made of porcelein and more like normal, and her tone returned to its usual brisk efficiency. "Well, we can't have that. Why don't you come into the kitchen and I'll heat something up, and we can talk about Jimmy and Priscilla and Thomas's dog."

And this, Susan reflected as Molly puttered around her tiny kitchen, setting the kettle on and heating up the shepherd's pie a well-wisher had left earlier that day, was why it was good to have friends. Molly might sometimes be too catty, and Luce had always thought her rather frivolous (Susan's breath caught at the thought, shied away, but she forced herself to finish it anyway), but she could be counted on to be there when you needed her, with a smile and a non-nonsense approach and a ridiculous anecdote about the time Janet's aunt's parrot got loose and decided to nest in Angela's curls.

[tricksterquinn.livejournal.com]

After dinner, they were huddled companionably on Molly's worn sofa, sipping at hot toddies and watching the rain fall through the unevenly glazed window looking out over the street below. Susan had her stocking feet curled up under her and had absentmindedly braided her hair back, away from her face. She felt warm and finally, startlingly relaxed for the first time in days.

The silence had stretched comfortably as she watched the rain streak down the glass, the lights of the city wavering strangely, like viewing it underwater, or through a fishbowl. It reminded her of ghost stories when she was young, younger than Lucy when- She cut that thought off sharply, replaced it fixedly with the first thing she thought of: "The drops of rain make a hole in the stone, not by violence, but by oft falling".

Beside her, Molly shifted, stirring her from her reverie. "So, I meant to ask..."

"Yes?" Susan was glad enough of the interruption. Her own thoughts were minefields these days, treacherous and untrustworthy, liable to turn on her suddenly when she least expected it.

"That young man today, the one who kissed your hand?" Molly's tone held a wealth of questions.

"Oh, him." Susan was not. thinking. about. the funeral. Instead she thought about the quirk of his odd half-smile, the blue of his eyes, the way he'd described Peter as a king. "I d'know. Was a friend of Peter's, apparently. From the War."

"Ah." Molly stretched; Susan could hear her back pop. "Was a strange thing to do at a funeral, like. Do you think he was trying to pick you up?"

Susan shrugged, still thinking. A king among men, he'd said. "I shouldn't think so. Just a bit odd. You know Peter's friends." No, Molly didn't, and truthfully Susan didn't either; so much of his life had been inaccessible to her as they'd gotten older, school and the War and university all things they had not shared, full of experiences they could never have in common. Perhaps it was no wonder they had grown apart...

But Molly was nodding agreeably, as though of course they knew all about Peter and his cohorts, strange beasts whose actions couldn't be accounted for. Or maybe, Susan thought, perhaps her friend was simply being a good friend and going along with whatever Susan said. Perhaps she should think a bit less.

She put it from her mind, then, and resolved not to think any more about it for that night at least.

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

lol picking girls up at a wake. & peter's strange cohorts! <3
is susan going to recognize magic? is it going to be merlin/susan? are they going to commiserate about PROPHECIES and DOOMED GLORY?!

[tricksterquinn.livejournal.com]

Truth to tell, I think Emerson there is a stranger cohort than most.

I'd say Merlin was out to collect them all, but he totally failed at that if so. ;)

Oh man, I make no guarentees that there will be more of this. It's sort of. Yikes.

Also it means I'll be up to my eyebrows in research forevermore and needing Britpicking something AWFUL.

[tricksterquinn.livejournal.com]

Are you on IM? I've both AIM and gchat and am perfectly happy to shake my fist at you on there. ;)

[twoskeletons.livejournal.com]

i do have AIM (i'm 'bewarethefrisbee' -- uhh, i've had that account since i was 13, okay), but unfortunately i am just about to step out to see 'slumdog millionaire' with a friend of mine. i look forward to your shaking your fists at me soon!

[tricksterquinn.livejournal.com]

Ok, added! I'm tricksterquinn across the board - nice and easy to remember. Have fun, and feel free to poke at me whenever! :D