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Jenny von Westphalen/quick-witted barmaid OTP!
What is this, senioritis? Spring semester blues? I'm well on my way to being overeducated and dehumanized and it makes me feel spiritually bloated, but also empty. But then I'm like, if these are my problems, then I'm doing pretty good. Don't cry, emo Lass! :(
Writing what I know: I haven't been doing it. Which makes me think hey, what about a fanfic writer AU? Y'know, the one where Morgana is a university student, and she and Gwen have debates over lunch about the finer points of LJ comm posting etiquette ("Post it to a few, sure, but I don't need the damn thing popping up on my flist eight times!"), but they also worry about summer internships and absent-minded thesis advisers who never return your emails on time.
But what show would they fic?! What epic bromantic story can serve as an adequate parallel to 'Merlin', that most unparalleled wonder of ahistorical crack? I toyed with 'Harry Potter' because it's such a mainstay, and Achilles and Patroclus (in which they are not cousins), and Plato and Socrates (in which they are the same age). And then, LIGHTBULB: the show is about Karl Marx (played by Colin Morgan, heretofore known for his stagework) and Friedrich Engels (played by Bradley James, heretofore known for his abs), in the springtime days of youth. Before they were revolutionaries, before the Manifesto and Capital and those horrific beards, they were just Karl and Friedrich, engaging in bar brawls with Prussian loyalists and other such rakish things. They are also trying to win the heart of Jenny von Westphalen (played by Angel Coulby), a young woman of bourgeois lineage whose beauty and kindness ignites both their passions. So, Karl and Friedrich have jealous spats disguised as accusations of hypocrisy! Anthony Head stars as Friedrich's father, the textile tycoon who disapproves of all things non-capitalist and from whom Friedrich steals money to support his BFF Karl. Katie Morgan plays the quick-witted barmaid with a thirst for revolution, and Joe Dempsie plays one of Karl's many former BFFs whom he eventually dumped for being ideologically unsound. It is a show about LOVE and FRIENDSHIP and FOLLOWING YOUR DREAMS.
Okay, so that's the show. In the throes of fannish glee, Morgana tells her stepbrother Arthur about it, which doesn't end well because he is an economics student (to please his father) and he just scoffs all over her face. "There are so many things wrong with this, I don't even know where to begin," he says, but Morgana retorts, "You're missing the point!"
"Which is...?"
"Friedrich/Karl, the OTP that ate fandom!" she crows. "Gwen already had to reformat her laptop because she got adware going on sketchy websites trying to find the newest episode. Thank god she backed up her Friedrich/Karl porn fic. We spent ages hashing out the characterization for that one."
"Oh Christ." Arthur holds up a finger. "First of all, I never want to know. Second of all," he holds up a second finger, "why would you worry about characterization in porn?"
"Because--"
"Third of all: see 'first of all'. If you put half as much effort into your studies as you do into historical porn--"
"Stop it, you sound like Uther."
Another time, over drinks, Gwen says to Morgana, "If we were a TV show, who would people ship?" Her favorite game. "I think quite a lot would ship you/me."
Morgana shrugs. "Probably." And tries not to smile like an idiot when, later, on their way back to their apartment, Gwen slips her arm around Morgana's waist to steady herself, giggly and warm and affectionate.
"I can capslock about you until the comments collapse," Gwen declares, and Morgana kisses her cheek, replies likewise.
And I don't even know what these next set of drabbles are. They've been sitting on my hard-drive for an age. Again, I was feeling like I never write what I know, but that I can't write original characters anymore, so I guess these are sort of a stepping stone. I can perhaps call them the 'directionless 20-something living in New England' AU. Perhaps there will be more in this 'verse, who knows.
Weymouth and Tilton are on the same commuter line to Boston, so Merlin and Will made all the usual promises to stay in touch. They call each other, saying things like, "We should chill soon," and "Yeah, man, definitely": sincere but quickly forgotten. Will says he'll get a quarter next time Merlin comes down to Tilton for the weekend, and Merlin says if Will comes up to Weymouth, they can take the T into Boston and hit up the bars on Lansdowne Street. Sounds good, they agree. Then they don't do anything. They call each other less and less, and the last time Merlin had any contact with him was to comment on his Facebook wall telling him he looks like a douchebag in his profile photo.
+
Arthur, like many young men of his sort, feigns fastidiousness but is actually the laziest bastard Merlin has ever met. He grew up accustomed to tidy rooms and spotless surfaces, but never quite acclimated himself to a life without servants. His narration of their squalor have an air of orders to them -- "Those pots and dishes have been sitting there for a week" and "The living room floor is getting really sticky" -- like he expects Merlin to do something about it. Fuck him, Arthur's the one who buys the booze and invites all the people over to drink it (and spill it). Okay, so Merlin ends up drinking lots of the booze too, but it would do Arthur good to do some manual labor anyway.
+
Merlin stumbles off the train in a haze of smoke. Not literally, but that's what it feels like, in his head. His whole body is saying, "Hey, remember college?" and it makes him feel old. When you're a kid, you think high-schoolers can do anything, and when you're in high school, you think early 20s is already adult. Well, Merlin doesn't feel like an adult. He just feels like a high school freshman who happens to pay his own bills and do his own taxes.
Adults are just faking it. They don't know any better, they just have to pretend like they do. Arthur once compared it to learning to drive in Karachi: you may not know what you're doing on the road, but then you realize no one else does either, and it's liberating -- you can do whatever the hell you want. Well, maybe Arthur feels liberated, but mostly Merlin feels tired. He has outgrown his affections, and he's just waiting for something else to replace it.
Arthur meets him in the commuter parking lot. "How was Tilton?" he asks.
"Same old," Merlin replies, throwing his duffel in the backseat.
"And Will?"
Merlin shrugs. "He's doing okay."
"Did you get the quarter?" Arthur asks, checking the mirror before he backs out.
"Fucking christ, yes, I also got all the texts you sent me about it."
"Perfect."
They squabble over which radio station to listen to, even though it's only a fifteen minute drive back to their apartment.
+
"Naw, dudes, for real," Will says. "It was like we were a sandwich, and I was the bread, and she was the ham, and he was like the other bread."
"Did you use condiments?" Arthur says.
"Lots of mayonnaise?" Merlin says.
"You guys are lame," Will replies, as Merlin and Arthur high-five each other.
What has two thumbs and is off to the dining hall. That's right!
Writing what I know: I haven't been doing it. Which makes me think hey, what about a fanfic writer AU? Y'know, the one where Morgana is a university student, and she and Gwen have debates over lunch about the finer points of LJ comm posting etiquette ("Post it to a few, sure, but I don't need the damn thing popping up on my flist eight times!"), but they also worry about summer internships and absent-minded thesis advisers who never return your emails on time.
But what show would they fic?! What epic bromantic story can serve as an adequate parallel to 'Merlin', that most unparalleled wonder of ahistorical crack? I toyed with 'Harry Potter' because it's such a mainstay, and Achilles and Patroclus (in which they are not cousins), and Plato and Socrates (in which they are the same age). And then, LIGHTBULB: the show is about Karl Marx (played by Colin Morgan, heretofore known for his stagework) and Friedrich Engels (played by Bradley James, heretofore known for his abs), in the springtime days of youth. Before they were revolutionaries, before the Manifesto and Capital and those horrific beards, they were just Karl and Friedrich, engaging in bar brawls with Prussian loyalists and other such rakish things. They are also trying to win the heart of Jenny von Westphalen (played by Angel Coulby), a young woman of bourgeois lineage whose beauty and kindness ignites both their passions. So, Karl and Friedrich have jealous spats disguised as accusations of hypocrisy! Anthony Head stars as Friedrich's father, the textile tycoon who disapproves of all things non-capitalist and from whom Friedrich steals money to support his BFF Karl. Katie Morgan plays the quick-witted barmaid with a thirst for revolution, and Joe Dempsie plays one of Karl's many former BFFs whom he eventually dumped for being ideologically unsound. It is a show about LOVE and FRIENDSHIP and FOLLOWING YOUR DREAMS.
Okay, so that's the show. In the throes of fannish glee, Morgana tells her stepbrother Arthur about it, which doesn't end well because he is an economics student (to please his father) and he just scoffs all over her face. "There are so many things wrong with this, I don't even know where to begin," he says, but Morgana retorts, "You're missing the point!"
"Which is...?"
"Friedrich/Karl, the OTP that ate fandom!" she crows. "Gwen already had to reformat her laptop because she got adware going on sketchy websites trying to find the newest episode. Thank god she backed up her Friedrich/Karl porn fic. We spent ages hashing out the characterization for that one."
"Oh Christ." Arthur holds up a finger. "First of all, I never want to know. Second of all," he holds up a second finger, "why would you worry about characterization in porn?"
"Because--"
"Third of all: see 'first of all'. If you put half as much effort into your studies as you do into historical porn--"
"Stop it, you sound like Uther."
Another time, over drinks, Gwen says to Morgana, "If we were a TV show, who would people ship?" Her favorite game. "I think quite a lot would ship you/me."
Morgana shrugs. "Probably." And tries not to smile like an idiot when, later, on their way back to their apartment, Gwen slips her arm around Morgana's waist to steady herself, giggly and warm and affectionate.
"I can capslock about you until the comments collapse," Gwen declares, and Morgana kisses her cheek, replies likewise.
And I don't even know what these next set of drabbles are. They've been sitting on my hard-drive for an age. Again, I was feeling like I never write what I know, but that I can't write original characters anymore, so I guess these are sort of a stepping stone. I can perhaps call them the 'directionless 20-something living in New England' AU. Perhaps there will be more in this 'verse, who knows.
Weymouth and Tilton are on the same commuter line to Boston, so Merlin and Will made all the usual promises to stay in touch. They call each other, saying things like, "We should chill soon," and "Yeah, man, definitely": sincere but quickly forgotten. Will says he'll get a quarter next time Merlin comes down to Tilton for the weekend, and Merlin says if Will comes up to Weymouth, they can take the T into Boston and hit up the bars on Lansdowne Street. Sounds good, they agree. Then they don't do anything. They call each other less and less, and the last time Merlin had any contact with him was to comment on his Facebook wall telling him he looks like a douchebag in his profile photo.
+
Arthur, like many young men of his sort, feigns fastidiousness but is actually the laziest bastard Merlin has ever met. He grew up accustomed to tidy rooms and spotless surfaces, but never quite acclimated himself to a life without servants. His narration of their squalor have an air of orders to them -- "Those pots and dishes have been sitting there for a week" and "The living room floor is getting really sticky" -- like he expects Merlin to do something about it. Fuck him, Arthur's the one who buys the booze and invites all the people over to drink it (and spill it). Okay, so Merlin ends up drinking lots of the booze too, but it would do Arthur good to do some manual labor anyway.
+
Merlin stumbles off the train in a haze of smoke. Not literally, but that's what it feels like, in his head. His whole body is saying, "Hey, remember college?" and it makes him feel old. When you're a kid, you think high-schoolers can do anything, and when you're in high school, you think early 20s is already adult. Well, Merlin doesn't feel like an adult. He just feels like a high school freshman who happens to pay his own bills and do his own taxes.
Adults are just faking it. They don't know any better, they just have to pretend like they do. Arthur once compared it to learning to drive in Karachi: you may not know what you're doing on the road, but then you realize no one else does either, and it's liberating -- you can do whatever the hell you want. Well, maybe Arthur feels liberated, but mostly Merlin feels tired. He has outgrown his affections, and he's just waiting for something else to replace it.
Arthur meets him in the commuter parking lot. "How was Tilton?" he asks.
"Same old," Merlin replies, throwing his duffel in the backseat.
"And Will?"
Merlin shrugs. "He's doing okay."
"Did you get the quarter?" Arthur asks, checking the mirror before he backs out.
"Fucking christ, yes, I also got all the texts you sent me about it."
"Perfect."
They squabble over which radio station to listen to, even though it's only a fifteen minute drive back to their apartment.
+
"Naw, dudes, for real," Will says. "It was like we were a sandwich, and I was the bread, and she was the ham, and he was like the other bread."
"Did you use condiments?" Arthur says.
"Lots of mayonnaise?" Merlin says.
"You guys are lame," Will replies, as Merlin and Arthur high-five each other.
What has two thumbs and is off to the dining hall. That's right!
no subject
Also:
Angel: [Off-camera.] What about the middle class?
Bradley: Fuck 'em, bunch of wankers.
Colin: Join us! We've got a manifesto!
MORE OF THIS PLS. OH MY GOD.
no subject
Colin is skeptical, Katie absolutely delighted, and Angel and Bradley amused and sort of befuddled, but willing to play along.
"It's the new thing," Katie says later over drinks. "Have you seen Pineapple Express? Superbad? Male affection is the new black."
"Superbaaaad," Bradley says, holding out his fist for fist-bumps. Katie obliges. "Fucking good film."
"What was the old black?" Colin asks.
"Dunno," Katie shrugs. "I think Harry Potter."
Colin says, "But it's not just us. It's not just me and Bradley. They want you two to cozy up too. They want all of us to cozy up."
"But it's different with girls, isn't it?" Angel says, slipping her arm around Katie's waist and drawing her closer. "We're usually quite cozy. Aren't we, darling?"
"Mmmm, like blankets," Katie smiles, and kisses Angel's cheek. "Men, however-"
"And British men, besides," Angel adds.
"That's a challenge, isn't it?" Bradley cuts in and, just as expected, Colin squirms beside him.
"Yes!" Angel cries out, as Katie laughs and claps her hands in glee. "Yes, it absolutely is!"
"Colin, it's up to us," Bradley declares, turning to face Colin all serious-like. "It's up to us to break the mold of repressed British men."
Colin blushes. "Er, 's all right. I was raised repressed, I can handle it."
"You can't be that repressed," Katie says. "You're an actor."
"Are you saying you don't want to cozy up to me?" Bradley asks.
"Think of it as rehearsing," Angel says. "Getting into character."
"I'm fairly certain Marx and Engels never made out," Colin says weakly.
"How do you know?" she retorts. "You weren't there. Who knows how many stolen kisses and illicit gropings went unnoticed in the backrooms of communist headquarters?"
"Don't hurt Bradley's feelings now," Katie giggles. "Go on, give him a kiss."
"Give us a kiss," Bradley agrees, and closes his eyes and puckers his lips.
"I wish we had the cameras," Angel says wistfully.
"I'm waiting, Karl," Bradley says, words mushed through puckered lips, eyes still closed. "Your Friedrich needs you."
"You people are insatiable!" Colin exclaims.
And because Bradley still has his eyes closed, Colin's kiss took him by surprise. He didn't really expect Colin to step up, and in fact Bradley had concocted a contingency plan in which he turns the tables on the situation and manipulates Katie and Angel into making out, but apparently the world works in mysterious ways. Bradley parts his lips and Colin responds in kind, and he tastes the beer on Colin's tongue. The girls emit various sounds along the lines of HOORAY, so Bradley plays it up a little.
"Oh my gosh they're still going!" Angel squeaks.
He puts his hand on the back of Colin's neck and pulls him closer, which makes Colin do a sort of breathy gasping noise into Bradley's mouth, which makes Bradley's stomach feel a bit funny, and not from too much beer.
"All right," Colin says against Bradley's lips, then pulls away. His cheeks are pinkish, and Bradley wonders if his are too. "All right, you got your show."
"A+," Bradley says, doing a thumbs-up and trying not to seem too... affected. "Ladies, I highly recommend it."
"Nothing so beautiful as communists in love," Angel sighs.
Colin takes another swig of his beer then slams it down on the table, grinning at Katie and Angel in a vaguely lecherous manner. "Fair's fair, girls," he says. "Your turn."