I offer fic-archive for those who may be interested. Ratings are approximations as I fail at US lingo.
( Click )
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur. Obvs.
Rating: PG13, mainly for language. Alas no porn.
Word Count: ~5,600
Summary: I blame this on
( one of these days he’s probably going to start hooting, or worse, believing that he can fly )
- Music:Moody Blues - Nights In White Satin
Doctor Who: I’m sat in front of my laptop, with a huge mound of Coco Pops and a cup of coffee, and iPlayer is playing up, and part of me just…doesn’t care. I’m just…I can’t say I’ve moved on to bigger and better things, because seriously, Merlin, and more to the point, Trinity which was literally the worst thing I have EVER SEEN. So it’s not like I’ve become more discerning, it’s just…I think I’ve seen a bit more what the fandom’s like, and realised I could never be that involved, nor would I want to be, and that really, despite my love for DT, it’s all getting a bit tired, and I actually preferred Christopher Eccleston. BUT this is before watching the latest episode. What I mean is, if iPlayer continues to be a bitch, it won’t be the end of the world.
Especially because it fulfilled its duty admirably today and delivered Merlin safely to my bosom: HOWEVER, I have to say this was possibly my least favourite episode so far. It just feels like the show’s going round in circles a bit…like there’ll be some development where Uther shows his human side, or Arthur’ll drop the arrogance and just be a decent bloke, and then by the end of the episode normal service is resumed. And I just thought Colin Morgan was a bit off-colour in this one, actually. I guess we haven’t really seen huge emotional scenes before, it’s always been quite understated, and it just didn’t work for me. But then, I had just disembarked from a hungover, 3 hour train ride squashed next to a woman who insisted on spreading her News of the World all over me. Jedward? I could not give a flying fuck. Anyway. So I was not best disposed for 45 minutes of admittedly very good looking angst (and Emilia Fox, yay! Come the fuck on, Silent Witness!). But who am I kidding? I doubt anybody watches it for the plot or the deep insights into the human psyche, least of all myself.
Housewarming in London yesterday, which proved several things: a) I hope I never, ever have to live in that city. It frightens me no end. b) I was right to get out of Cambridge. Everyone’s so miserable about it…at least when I’m miserable, it’s about something I had no illusions of. That makes neither syntactic nor ontological sense, alas. But yes. c) I would much rather be talking about exactly how hard I’d tap Malcolm Tucker of The Thick of It fame, than debating whether Moby Dick is about the search for liberal democracy, or whether it’s just, essentially, about whaling. STILL with Moby Dick. These guys like their debates, it must be said.
Okay, I’m done. I leave you with a poem, because I have been infected with pretentiousness, evidently. And it’s really nice.
Having a Coke with You
BY FRANK O'HARA
is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irún, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne
or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona
partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian
partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt
partly because of the fluorescent orange tulips around the birches
partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary
it is hard to believe when I’m with you that there can be anything as still
as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it
in the warm New York 4 o’clock light we are drifting back and forth
between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles
and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint
you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them
I look
at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world
except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it’s in the Frick
which thank heavens you haven’t gone to yet so we can go together the first time
and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care of Futurism
just as at home I never think of the Nude Descending a Staircase or
at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that used to wow me
and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them
when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun sank
or for that matter Marino Marini when he didn’t pick the rider as carefully
as the horse
it seems they were all cheated of some marvellous experience
which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I’m telling you about it
- Music:Trashcan Sinatras - Usually
And while I remember: IRON MAN. What a film.
- Music:Hlo
I thought I enjoyed my own company, but I guess I'm pretty miserable at the moment. On the plus side, I listened to Christmas music for the first time this year today and it made me smile. Also, Merlin on Saturday (so the fact that my life revolves around TV? That should tell you something). And I now know how to make a mean sausage casserole. Cheer up, self. And stop feeling inferior.
- Music:Meiko - Boys With Girlfriends
Rating: NC-17, but that's probably being ridiculously optimistic.
Pairing/Characters: Wedge/Iella, Mala
Words: ~2900
AN: This is quite possibly (and most unintentionally) hilarious. But there is the usual angst and guilt and minimal dialogue as ever. S'all good.
( it was the pieces in between that made him fall in love, and dread it )
- Music:Ludovico Einaudi - Divenire
MERLIN sweet baby Jesus.
( Spoilers )
To conclude: hell yes. This is even more exciting than watching Phil Tufnell camp it up in pink satin. As ever I am fully in Ian’s corner, this year with Jade Johnson, but am also very much looking forward to seeing Craig Kelly do his bit. I can just imagine Stuart watching Vince strut his stuff and shaking his head ruefully. I really did love Queer as Folk.
Some bookywooks I did read on the canal barge:
More Discworld than strictly necessary. I think Vimes is probably my ideal man. And I will always love Terry Pratchett for the line ‘more highly bred than a hilltop bakery’…
White Teeth by Zadie Smith. She depresses me more than words; she was 25 when this was published. It reminded me of John Irving with these interwoven Dickensian characters, events foreshadowing and impacting upon each other, but it was more clunkily and self-consciously done (although that’s my only gripe with Irving, that he’s sometimes a bit too smug about how well and subtly everything ties together), and I didn’t think much of the denouement. I guess it’s actually a bit dated, a novel about multiculturalism and Islamic fundamentalism published before 9/11. Her dialogue is a thing of wonder though.
The Prisoner of Zenda by Anthony Hope. Anyone read The Tin Princess by Philip Pullman? This reminds me so much of that, but with more 19th century flourishes and added swashbuckling. It’s what one might call a ripping yarn, not particularly complicated or emotionally draining, but certainly exciting and with a touching love story too. Just my cup of tea, en fait.
Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell. It really might have helped if I hadn’t started this in Scotland two months ago and left it festering halfway through (a very bad habit of mine). As it was, I’d sort of lost the impetus a little, which I think destroyed the momentum of each interlinking story. My main problem with this was that of the six lives he winds together, there were several I just did not care about. In fact, I’d have much rather just have read an entire novel on the dystopian cloning future section titled An Orison of Sonmi.
So I am off tomorrow with one of the twins in tow to set up shop a little to the northeast, living in what must, for want of a better word, be called a room (maybe ‘crevice’ would suffice), with only my laptop and my trusty copy of Battle Cry of Freedom for company. And I bet it’ll take me a few days to work out the internet connection, so expect conspicuous silence from this neck of the woods. How I’m going to watch Strictly Come Dancing: It Takes Two, is anyone’s guess.
And also a meme, stolen from
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skew_whiff, for your enjoyment. I have lovingly crafted lists for Band of Brothers, Star Wars and Harry Potter, so ask away! I'm gonna make a list of 10 characters, it is a secret list. If you want, comment to this post with a question like, "2 and 8 have a dance off, who wins?" and then I answer them in a separate post and it is the most fun meme ever. And you can ask as many questions as you like.
- Music:Cutting Crew - I Just Died In Your Arms
Title: Triptych: Duty (4/5)
Rating: PG
Pairing/Characters: Wedge/Iella, Leia, Tycho, Winter
Words: ~3800
AN: In which Wedge fails at writing letters of condolence, Winter despairs of men, and Tycho and Wedge find themselves on opposite sides. Yay angst!
( they were the same; helpless spectators to the destruction of worlds )
- Music:Trashcan Sinatras - I Hung My Harp
Title: Triptych: Friends (3/5)
Rating: PG13, for a bit of language, and really rather awful attempts at humour.
Pairing/Characters: Wedge/Iella, Biggs, assorted Rogues
Words: ~2300
AN: In which embarrassing stories about Wedge's youth emerge, our hero survives the Battle of Yavin, and the Fab Four attempt to battle the mother of all hangovers.
( it was a busy day, the day everything changed )
- Music:Take That - The Circus (lol)
Title: Triptych: Home (2/5)
Rating: PG13. Ish.
Pairing/Characters: Wedge/Iella, Luke, Syal (Wynssa)
Words: ~3500 this part
AN: In which Wedge goes to the movies, passes out on Endor, and is a generally insensitive male. And Luke is probably a little OOC in this, alas. Considering I have very little love for him, he seems to appear in this rather a lot. Hmph.
( it was haphazard, chaotic, a little like their love )
- Music:Emmy The Great - Two Steps Forward
Title: Triptych: Fear (1/5)
Rating: PG this part
Pairing/Characters: Wedge/Iella, Luke, Terriks etc etc
Words: ~3000 this part
AN: So, more Wedge angst, seeing as he's eaten my brain, damn him. Vague ruminations on various themes in his life...these three scenes are all rather depressing, but there are happy/funny ones in the pipeline. Enjoy!
( the stretch of the stars and the faint glow of other, beckoning worlds )
- Music:Great Lake Swimmers - Your Rocky Spine
The people across the road are having their drive resurfaced, so their son and daughter are parking their cars on our drive instead. I used to be such good friends with the daughter; we shared a desk at orchestra, shared a room on tour, and (when we were much younger) cycled up and down the road making up songs about Voldemort. I guess she was almost a fandom friend irl. But we drifted apart, as you do. I just saw the son, who’s my age, arrive and get out of his car, and even though we went to the same uni, I’d sort of forgotten how cool he is. Just…such a nice guy, pretty fit, really friendly, and off to start some management consultancy job in London in a month. I dunno…it just really made me want a brother.
I’m having real problems relating to my sisters at the moment – it's always been a bit weird seeing as they're twins, and I'm the loner in the corner, but they’ve become different people over the past year; they go out all the time and spend all their time buying and trying on clothes. They get angry with me if I point out spelling mistakes they make and refuse to let me help them with their work. I know it’s really selfish, missing the days when they used to look up to me and idolise me instead of thinking I’m a friendless loser geek, like they do now, but they’ve been my best friends for so long, and I’m scared to lose them. To be honest, it’s partly jealousy. Yes, they have better relationships with their friends than I do, they’re thinner, prettier and more hard-working than me. What do I have? Better grades. Big woop.
Worse, they’re going to university in a month, and they’ve never spent a night apart in their lives, and it’s just…not going to be pretty. One is far more domineering and bossy than the other, and I just can’t imagine the meeker one functioning by herself. So it’s all a combination of worry, jealousy, anger, alienation and general stress, and it’s a lovely sunny day and I would LOVE a brother to kick a ball around with or play on the Wii. At least he wouldn’t ask me to use my non-existent sewing skills to transform a size 16 skirt into a size 6 dress. Size 6. Bloody hell, as if I needed more proof that there is no justice in this world. Dear sisters, I loathe you. And I’m going to miss you like I’ve never missed anyone before come September. Good luck for your results tomorrow. Love you.
- Music:Nightwish - End of All Hope
I don't half watch some shit sometimes.
Come back, Merlin, all is forgiven.
- Music:Emily Haines - Doctor Blind
I’ve been bursting into random tears quite a bit lately. I think it must be having too much time on my hands. I found myself having a good cry at Ewan McGregor’s rendition of ‘Come What May’ earlier today, though I still maintain not crying at Moulin Rouge is a sign that you are, in fact, a robot.
And as for ‘Sensitive Skin’ – I swear, it was even worse than the first time I read HP7. I would highly recommend it, it’s a (very) dark and melancholy comedy that was on BBC2 years ago, with Joanna Lumley and Denis Lawson (ok, ok, so he was the reason I was glued to YouTube for all 6 episodes). I won’t spoil the ending, but I was BAWLING. Hiccupping. Gasping for air so desperately that my mum came in to ask me what was so funny. I was on the train to Nottingham a few days later and an old woman came to sit opposite me, and her husband was outside just waving and waving until the train pulled away, and I nearly started off again.
And THEN we had to clean my gran’s house before selling it – she’s not dead or anything, just moved into a nursing home, but clearing away all of the detritus of 90 years and just…throwing it all out, really, upset me quite a bit. Mortality sucks, yo.
And now I’ve got a horrible suspicion my current Neil Diamond appreciation is not entirely ironic. Had a good sob to ‘The Story of My Life’ today. I think my mum’s right, I DO need more fresh air. A daily constitutional, maybe. If I’m so depressed, I should at least have a fitting song stuck in my head, right? But NO. The theme from Pokemon. *shakes head ruefully*
At least I’ve now got my future sorted – I’m doing a masters in Nottingham next year, probably converting to a PhD the following year. Yay academia!
profcricket, you are my inspiration <3AND at least I found this, which made me go: a) ‘woop Rogue Squadron!!’ and b) ‘WOOP CHRISTMAS HELLS YEAH!!’
Urgh. My twin sisters (who finally have separate facebook accounts, if not separate rooms or personalities) are out on the town, grooving to La Roux while their crumbling relic sister is left alone with Mock the Week and an entirely overambitious Wedge fic to write. MOPE.
- Music:Jenny Owen Youngs - Here Is A Heart
I bring Wedge!fic, because I am lame and went on a three day Star Wars bender, with only a brief pause to go watch Harry Potter (WOOP). Also, I haven't written anything in, like, forever, and I need the practice. And suggestions on where to crosspost?
Title: A Rainbow Shell
Pairings: Wedge/Iella, Wedge/Wes
Words: ~1800
Rating: PG
Summary: three times Wedge Antilles said 'I love you', and many times he didn't.
Warnings: Guilt! Homoeroticism! Crap dogfighting scenes! Angst! Sap! Technical bluffery!
( blast marks from years back, popped rivets and faded paint )
- Music:Eleni Mandell - Let's Drive Away
Shizzle I’ve been up to in the past few weeks:
Going to Scotland, mooching around Edinburgh Woollen Mills and shops selling tartan, comedy tamoshanters, Bonnie Prince Charlie merchandise, and claymores. Traipsing through Glencoe. Visiting the viaduct of Harry Potter fame, and standing around like a lemon while my dad waited for the blessed steam engine to go past. Sailing to Skye. Eating a lot of seafood. It was perfect. It was beautiful.
Listening to the Noisettes on pretty much constant repeat.
Watching all 8 hours of the BBC’s Bleak House in one day (felt slightly jet lagged afterwards). I loved it a lot, despite the crazy camerawork, Gillian Anderson was wonderful, and Anna Maxwell Martin is just so sweet in everything she does. But MOST OF ALL, I was looking at Mr Jarndyce, and thinking ‘I know this man’ and then it struck me…he’s WEDGE in Star Wars!!! Which is pretty much the most exciting thing ever, Wedge being easily the best character after Han Solo.
Which led to an epic 6-part Star Wars marathon, my character guides and technical guides all over my floor, my paltry collection of novels stacked by my bed, the soundtrack on Spotify, and my making little origami X Wing fighters. Seriously, Star Wars was probably my first real obsession (I don’t think the Animals of Farthing Wood counts, really)…I had Star Wars posters everywhere, loads of books, and I remember very clearly my dad catching me reading Han/Leia smut on The Pit when I was about 13, on the family desktop. Remember when they had the old ratings system, and you had to click on a disclaimer to read NC-17 stuff? I was convinced the internet would somehow know I was underage, and notify my dad, so I didn’t dare read any. Those were the days.
Anyway, so I’m whiling away the next 24 hours in a happy blur of Wedge-related activities, resigned to the fact that as of tomorrow and a certain trip to Cineworld, I’ll be firmly back in the Harry Potter fold. I am a fickle, fickle woman.
Yub yub, Commander, etc etc etc.- Music:The Noisettes - 24 Hours
Wow, it feels like quite a while...
I graduated. I somehow managed to scrape a first, which made me happier than I can say. Here are Bernard and I, historians at large, courtesy of my father, who has more skill at using a camera (i.e. can take a cap off a lens, which is more than I can usually manage). I squinted a lot all day, and was basically melting in my hood and grad garb, and then it pissed it down as we were processing through the city. Very odd day. 
I went to a load of May Balls too, rendering myself well and truly poor in the process, but having a great time at various silent discos and hog roasts. The Inbetweeners were at Emma May Ball, and were rather amusing in the process. I have a lot of love for foul-mouthed, grossout Channel 4 teen comedy, I confess.
Now I'm off to Scotland for a fortnight, sacrificing myself to the relentless stormclouds of midgies and the probable rain. Also the swine flu. I will be massively unimpressed if I die of H1N1. I have things to do. Books to read. Brideshead Revisited to watch.
Bloody hell, that programme is good, and so faithful to the book! I liked the film quite a lot, mainly due to Matthew Goode's rather sexy Britishness, but Anthony Andrews and Jeremy Irons are in a league of their own. It's got me thinking quite a lot about friendship too, and ranking/analysing fictional friendships in my head. My big three favourite are Charles and Sebastian in Brideshead, Nick and Gatsby in The Great Gatsby, and Johnny and Owen in A Prayer for Owen Meany. But enough geeky chat from me.
Some final thoughts:
OH MY SWEET LORD ONLY FIFTEEN DAYS UNTIL H
What is the general opinion on Bryan Ferry? Passe? Fit? Dodgy moustache in the Let's Stick Together era? Racist? Whatever, I am going through an undeniable and unabashed Roxy Music phase.
Telstar: JA BITTE. I am all in favour of JJ Feild with peroxide hair, indeed I am.
- Music:State Radio - Keep Sake
- Music:Arcade Fire - Intervention
I have half a bottle of Cava inside me at three in the afternoon and am facing the reality that I HAVE NO CLEAN UNDERWEAR, so any further celebration or conjecture about the end of an era and how much/little I've learned about myself and about mankind will, sadly, have to wait. The second seasons of Rome and Pushing Daisies (I challenge you to find a more extreme juxtaposition) await, as does, regrettably, the future. Woe.
Why, oh WHY did I not go to university where a) the final grade is cumulative and spread over three years and b) people don't take SLEEPING BAGS and TOOTHBRUSHES to the library. Fuck my life, seriously.
American parties since 1790: I FUCKING HATE YOU. Why can't you just be called one thing all the way through? Seriously, Jefferson, screw you. And don't even get me started on Henry Adams. I am on the verge of throwing something, so I'm going to listen to Barry Manilow and drink herbal tea and think about Harry Potter.
Oh, and men suck. In case that's news to anyone.
- Music:Art Garfunkel - I Shall Sing
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