I know I have never mentioned this show before now, and so this post might seem oddly out of place. However, I must vent.
British TV is not high on my list of fandom delights, but for the past month or so
dollsome's posts have been assuaging me with Robin Hood, and so now I'm all invested in this show I've never even seen. Lately there have been major freak-outs about a major character dying in tonight's season finale, and I was trying hard not to care, even though I apparently really did, because I've been hitting up the internet for spoilers all day. Although I don't know what time it officially airs, it's after 8 PM here so I thought there was a chance it might have done so. I wanted to know who died, even though I figured it would break my heart.
A few hits down the Google results page, I got my answer. It requires me to curse a little.
British TV is not high on my list of fandom delights, but for the past month or so
dollsome's posts have been assuaging me with Robin Hood, and so now I'm all invested in this show I've never even seen. Lately there have been major freak-outs about a major character dying in tonight's season finale, and I was trying hard not to care, even though I apparently really did, because I've been hitting up the internet for spoilers all day. Although I don't know what time it officially airs, it's after 8 PM here so I thought there was a chance it might have done so. I wanted to know who died, even though I figured it would break my heart. A few hits down the Google results page, I got my answer. It requires me to curse a little.
NOOOOO!
The fuck, show. MARIAN? How the hell do you kill Marian? Is your show or is your show not based on the famous Robin Hood legend, in which Maid/Lady Marian is sort of a, um, how you say, INTEGRAL CHARACTER?!
*howls and sobs* You suck! Marian was the greatest lure for me to possibly watch it someday! And knowing it ends like this - that's just too damn horrible to even comprehend. I hate this. I don't even watch this show, and it's managed to break my heart as effectively as CSI.
If you need me, I'll be in my weeping corner.
EDIT: About ten minutes later I uncurled from the fetal position long enough to find out how she died, and I think I may vomit. Really, show, Guy stabs her? In cold blood? Are you fucking trying to kill me?!
Edit the Second: About to explode with pent-up emotion, I wandered downstairs and informed my parents that I required entertainment. It was surprisingly easy to pry them away from their TV-watching/reading pursuits and convince them that they wanted to play Farkle. And so we played Farkle for a rousing two hours, during which Dad miserably lost three games in a row before quitting in disgust, and I maintained my .500 win average. We engaged in a merry crossfire of bragging, mockery, and exaggerated reactions that had me laughing so hard I could barely breathe, and all in all I have to say that it helped my mood immensely. I'm still quite devastated, of course, and I'm sure I could rev the outrage and indignation right back up, but at least it no longer physically feels like my heart's been ripped out through my chest. I might even be able to sleep tonight. This is good; hurray family!
The fuck, show. MARIAN? How the hell do you kill Marian? Is your show or is your show not based on the famous Robin Hood legend, in which Maid/Lady Marian is sort of a, um, how you say, INTEGRAL CHARACTER?!
*howls and sobs* You suck! Marian was the greatest lure for me to possibly watch it someday! And knowing it ends like this - that's just too damn horrible to even comprehend. I hate this. I don't even watch this show, and it's managed to break my heart as effectively as CSI.
If you need me, I'll be in my weeping corner.
EDIT: About ten minutes later I uncurled from the fetal position long enough to find out how she died, and I think I may vomit. Really, show, Guy stabs her? In cold blood? Are you fucking trying to kill me?!
Edit the Second: About to explode with pent-up emotion, I wandered downstairs and informed my parents that I required entertainment. It was surprisingly easy to pry them away from their TV-watching/reading pursuits and convince them that they wanted to play Farkle. And so we played Farkle for a rousing two hours, during which Dad miserably lost three games in a row before quitting in disgust, and I maintained my .500 win average. We engaged in a merry crossfire of bragging, mockery, and exaggerated reactions that had me laughing so hard I could barely breathe, and all in all I have to say that it helped my mood immensely. I'm still quite devastated, of course, and I'm sure I could rev the outrage and indignation right back up, but at least it no longer physically feels like my heart's been ripped out through my chest. I might even be able to sleep tonight. This is good; hurray family!
Comments