She is Poetry & Prozac... (freneticfloetry) wrote,
She is Poetry & Prozac...

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Come on rise up...

First, I need to preface this post by apologizing to each and every person who tried to boost me onto the True Blood bandwagon last season (and there were a lot of you). While I remain immensely relieved that I never took my mother up on her offer to hold an induction marathon - because really, I may be a grown-ass woman, but watching vampire orgies with your mother isn't cool at any age - I'm also immensely thankful to Stacie for dragging me kicking and screaming into the fray.

I have lots and lots of thinky, thinky thoughts on the season thus far (that I hope to return with later), but it is three in the morning, I have work tomorrow, and my mind is still blown. The reason?

Eric Motherfucking Northman. (It must be noted that our Viking Sheriff has inherited the mantle of that title from its only previous owner, Saul Motherfucking Tigh.)

Inserting disclaimer here: I was not an obsessive Eric fangirl.

Now, most of you know that I have a huge weak spot for the cavalier yet terminally-misunderstood bad boy. And while I don't think Eric precisely fits that mold, he was close enough to be interesting. His swagger was admittedly intriguing, he grew exponentially hotter once the hair of doom was gone, and he's a damn sight better than Bill, but he hadn't cracked my True Blood upper echelon (which primarily consisted of the holy trinity of Tara, Lafayette and Sam, and expanded to include Jessica). But the second season hit its stride, and Eric started ticking off all my boxes one by one, moving from delightfully-cocky SOB to full-on Glorious Bastard. And it all built up to the frenzy of the last two absolutely brilliant episodes.

One incredible scene in particular.

He had me at the unhinged shouting, but once they switched to Swedish, I was gone. Gone, I tell you. If I'm on the fence, near the fence, anywhere in the fence's general vicinity, the one card to play that will always get me over is the big man breaking. It is my kryptonite. I'm just not physically capable of withstanding it.

More than that, I love how organic it was. How unforced. And the visual! Eric, usually towering, on his knees in supplication, and Godric, so tiny, but such a huge force. Beautiful and devastating to watch all at once. I'm sorry to see him go, but I wouldn't keep him. Not if it meant giving back this scene.

And now I kind of need Eric origin fic, from Godric to Pam and all the years between. Somebody write it for me, before I'm forced to write it myself.

Moral of the story: consider me officially on the Eric train. Full steam ahead and all that. Choo-fucking-choo.

Now I just hope they don't ruin him via Sookie. I really can't stand that chick.
Tags: tv: true blood
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