Polling the LM Hive Mind (part 2a)
Well, fiddlesticks. It's taking me longer than anticipated to compile the poll, mostly because today has been full of interruptions, but also because I tried to trim the favourite scenes and lines down to four choices or less, picking a scene and trying to come up with a phrase that will at least somehow represent that scene. I had to keep reminding myself that the phrase needed to fit on photo manipulated art that someone wants to do for LM, because I have a problem, okay? My so-called "phrases" keep wanting to become full-length paragraphs.
Anyhoo -- poll is behind the cut.
Thank you to everyone who commented before and gave their favourite scenes and lines! I'm only sorry that I trimmed them down to just three. If I didn't fail in my HTML (hey, I might program macros on a regular basis, but it takes me a few tries to get it right), I've also included the accompanying references with each phrase. If I did fail, I've added them beneath the poll.
Poll Memorable Scenes From LM
Ugh. Okay, my HTML failed, and I'm too tired to figure it out, so here we go with the scenes:
Part One: Radioman
Excalibur is your destiny.
Arthur held up the swath of red cloth. "You dropped this."
The sky at moonrise, the sky at sunrise.
It had absolutely nothing to do with bright, guileless eyes that were a startling jewel blue, like the sky at moonrise and the sky at sunrise had gotten together and made babies in that exact shade.
Comfort is in the heart.
"The map says there's a series of caves up ahead, but that's only if the map isn't wrong," Gwaine said. "Don't worry, Princess. I'll find something that suits your particularly extravagant tastes."
I've known from the start that you were mine.
"Now, now. There's plenty of me to go around," Merlin said, sounding so damned pleased about it that Arthur wanted to shake him a few times to tell him, that, no, no, under no circumstance was Merlin to even offer, because he was Arthur's and only Arthur's, and...
Part Two: War Games
Laid bare on an altar is a feast for a King.
Merlin was stretched out on the hood of a clean transport, laying back on the windshield. His long legs were crossed at the ankles, his trousers were low on his hips, and his chest was bare except for the gleam of metallic circular ID tags. His hands made a pillow behind his head, he wore a pair of silver reflective aviator glasses, chin tilted up at the sky while he soaked up the sun as if he were some sort of Celtic god.
Only one will ever wear Arthur's red.
"You're wearing Arthur's red, aren't you?" Arthur's red, and not Excalibur's red, Merlin noted after a surprised second. "You're one of us. You're family now. If you think we were merciless when we questioned you on your first day, wait till your month's grace of wearing the red for the first time is over. The bollocks I'm talking about is this James Bond double-oh all these bloody secrets that you're not telling us."
The young laugh when the old fall.
"Am gwymp hen y chwardd ieuanc." Merlin said, his voice quiet. Arthur turned to look at him, but everyone's eyes were on Merlin in the next instant, and he pressed his lips together, falling silent until Arthur raised a slight brow to tell him he might as well continue. Merlin sat up a little straighter. "It's Welsh. It means the young laugh when the old fall."
A silent rage is the deadliest.
Merlin didn't have any of the poker tells of a man trying to hide how much he was struggling to contain his fear...and Merlin wasn't acting like a man who was afraid or who thought he'd lost the last few marbles he had left. His hands were too steady, his voice too soft, his gaze too intense, his body in a bowstring-tautness that might release at any moment and be flung out far, far away. Where Arthur might never see him again.
Merlin was angry.
Part Three: R&R
Some things are worth the wait. He'd wait forever --
"Mara designed and did my tattoo. I thought, maybe, you'd like her to do yours," Arthur said quietly.
Merlin snapped out of whatever funk he was in, studying him with a frown, before looking up toward the shop.
When Merlin looked at Arthur again, it was with such a brilliant, brilliant smile, that Arthur knew he was a goner.
He'd wait forever for Merlin.
What's a more perfect sword than Excalibur?
Merlin touched the edges of the tattoo on his left ribcage tenderly. It was in the same spot as Arthur's, too. He hadn't done it on purpose, either. When Mara had asked him where he wanted it, Merlin had thought about it for a moment, closing his eyes to feel for the right spot, and his magic had guided his hand to point without even thinking about it.
He had her hide some symbols in the Celtic knots, too, darkening them out a little bolder than the rest. Now that it was healed, he could feel the magic pulse on each of those symbols, spells ready to be taken and thrown. They would come in useful, he knew, if they were ever going to go against Aredian and the Jester and Mordred again.
A tease; a secret sigh. Yearning and unfulfilled desire.
A long bare leg, moon-milky against the blue-grey comforter, stretched out and curled slightly. The fine black hairs on his calf and thigh only served to enhance the lines of muscles, lean and lined even at rest. Arthur's eyes traced the length of his leg, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of Merlin's boxers, the fabric pushed up all the way to the crook and curve of his arse.
.
Anyhoo -- poll is behind the cut.
Thank you to everyone who commented before and gave their favourite scenes and lines! I'm only sorry that I trimmed them down to just three. If I didn't fail in my HTML (hey, I might program macros on a regular basis, but it takes me a few tries to get it right), I've also included the accompanying references with each phrase. If I did fail, I've added them beneath the poll.
Poll Memorable Scenes From LM
Ugh. Okay, my HTML failed, and I'm too tired to figure it out, so here we go with the scenes:
Part One: Radioman
Excalibur is your destiny.
Arthur held up the swath of red cloth. "You dropped this."
The sky at moonrise, the sky at sunrise.
It had absolutely nothing to do with bright, guileless eyes that were a startling jewel blue, like the sky at moonrise and the sky at sunrise had gotten together and made babies in that exact shade.
Comfort is in the heart.
"The map says there's a series of caves up ahead, but that's only if the map isn't wrong," Gwaine said. "Don't worry, Princess. I'll find something that suits your particularly extravagant tastes."
I've known from the start that you were mine.
"Now, now. There's plenty of me to go around," Merlin said, sounding so damned pleased about it that Arthur wanted to shake him a few times to tell him, that, no, no, under no circumstance was Merlin to even offer, because he was Arthur's and only Arthur's, and...
Part Two: War Games
Laid bare on an altar is a feast for a King.
Merlin was stretched out on the hood of a clean transport, laying back on the windshield. His long legs were crossed at the ankles, his trousers were low on his hips, and his chest was bare except for the gleam of metallic circular ID tags. His hands made a pillow behind his head, he wore a pair of silver reflective aviator glasses, chin tilted up at the sky while he soaked up the sun as if he were some sort of Celtic god.
Only one will ever wear Arthur's red.
"You're wearing Arthur's red, aren't you?" Arthur's red, and not Excalibur's red, Merlin noted after a surprised second. "You're one of us. You're family now. If you think we were merciless when we questioned you on your first day, wait till your month's grace of wearing the red for the first time is over. The bollocks I'm talking about is this James Bond double-oh all these bloody secrets that you're not telling us."
The young laugh when the old fall.
"Am gwymp hen y chwardd ieuanc." Merlin said, his voice quiet. Arthur turned to look at him, but everyone's eyes were on Merlin in the next instant, and he pressed his lips together, falling silent until Arthur raised a slight brow to tell him he might as well continue. Merlin sat up a little straighter. "It's Welsh. It means the young laugh when the old fall."
A silent rage is the deadliest.
Merlin didn't have any of the poker tells of a man trying to hide how much he was struggling to contain his fear...and Merlin wasn't acting like a man who was afraid or who thought he'd lost the last few marbles he had left. His hands were too steady, his voice too soft, his gaze too intense, his body in a bowstring-tautness that might release at any moment and be flung out far, far away. Where Arthur might never see him again.
Merlin was angry.
Part Three: R&R
Some things are worth the wait. He'd wait forever --
"Mara designed and did my tattoo. I thought, maybe, you'd like her to do yours," Arthur said quietly.
Merlin snapped out of whatever funk he was in, studying him with a frown, before looking up toward the shop.
When Merlin looked at Arthur again, it was with such a brilliant, brilliant smile, that Arthur knew he was a goner.
He'd wait forever for Merlin.
What's a more perfect sword than Excalibur?
Merlin touched the edges of the tattoo on his left ribcage tenderly. It was in the same spot as Arthur's, too. He hadn't done it on purpose, either. When Mara had asked him where he wanted it, Merlin had thought about it for a moment, closing his eyes to feel for the right spot, and his magic had guided his hand to point without even thinking about it.
He had her hide some symbols in the Celtic knots, too, darkening them out a little bolder than the rest. Now that it was healed, he could feel the magic pulse on each of those symbols, spells ready to be taken and thrown. They would come in useful, he knew, if they were ever going to go against Aredian and the Jester and Mordred again.
A tease; a secret sigh. Yearning and unfulfilled desire.
A long bare leg, moon-milky against the blue-grey comforter, stretched out and curled slightly. The fine black hairs on his calf and thigh only served to enhance the lines of muscles, lean and lined even at rest. Arthur's eyes traced the length of his leg, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of Merlin's boxers, the fabric pushed up all the way to the crook and curve of his arse.
.