<333 for Betsy

[whynot]

Ho shit, it's another birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, be_themoon! ILU MUCH.

Her birthday present is part of the fanfic writer AUverse in this post and its comments, in which Gwen and Morgana are university students who also write fic for a cracktastic, anachronistic, subtext-heavy show called Revolutions, which stars Colin Morgan as a young Karl Marx and Bradley James as a young Friedrich Engels. In other words, it is pretty much unadulterated crack.


OMGWTFOTP
Merlin/RPF. Ensemble. PG.
"So tell us, Bradley, what can we expect from the second series of Revolutions?"


Excerpt from a transcript of a cast interview

INTERVIEWER: So tell us, Bradley, what can we expect from the second series of Revolutions?

BRADLEY: Well, we try to keep what made the first season good, and push it. So, Karl and Friedrich are beginning to realize now just how big their journey is, how big it is the thing they’re trying to do. Their relationship will grow because of it. And Jenny, she’s beginning to come into her own, she’s realizing her strength-

ANGEL: It’s a quiet sort of strength.

KATIE: But it’s there!

BRADLEY: Yeah. Yeah, the second series will have Jenny, um-

INTERVIEWER: Taking charge?

BRADLEY: Taking charge? Well-

KATIE: Oh, she definitely takes charge.

ANGEL: In an iron hand wearing a velvet glove sort of way.

BRADLEY: Marie is just iron all over though.

KATIE: I’ll take that as a compliment.

INTERVIEWER: Colin? What are your thoughts on the upcoming season?

COLIN: You know, I wonder – I mean, with all the love triangles and family drama happening, when does Karl ever find the time to actually be a political theorist?

INTERVIEWER: [At the others.] Any thoughts? Friedrich, you’re his partner – what do you think?

BRADLEY: Bah, Karl just talks a lot of rubbish anyway.

+

The header of Morgana’s first Revolutions fic

Title: The Things We Lose
Author: Cassandra
Pairing: Karl/Friedrich
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: 1x04
Summary: After helping Karl home from the rally, Friedrich berates him for his stupidity, and passionate reprimands quickly turn into a passionate something else. Episode tag to ‘Chains’.
A/N: Kisses to my beloved beta, Lareine. Thank you, darling!

+

“I don’t know about that,” Gwen says dubiously. “It’s only about socialism the way reality TV is about reality. A show about socialism is not automatically preaching it.”

They are in Morgana’s room. Gwen sits on the bed scrolling idly through her friends page, and Morgana is apparently busy spinning around in her swivel chair.

“Maybe not on purpose,” Morgana counters, “but think of all the people who get hooked on the show for the crackfest that it is, and then they wonder, ‘Oh, I wonder what the real Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels were like, I’ll read up on it and this manifesto they keep going on about-”

“Morgana, the only reason you’re reading Marx’s biography is so you can bookmark all the Karl/Friedrich subtext for later reference.”

“Okay, look,” she sighs. “I know. I know it’s just a show about socialists developed by a private firm, in order to grow profit for a capitalist enterprise. Fine. But all I’m saying-”

“Yes?”

“Is that Colin Morgan can raise my class consciousness anytime he wants.”

Gwen rolls her eyes. “My friend, you are as bourgeois as they come.”

“At least I’m not lumpenproletariat.”

A ‘ping’ is heard from the kitchen.

“Ah, the popcorn!” Morgana exclaims, and wheels herself off in the direction of the kitchen.

“Perfect! The episode’s finished downloading.”

“Great!” comes Morgana’s voice from the corridor.

“You know, you can probably go faster walking than by chair.”

“I’ll chair if I want to!”

When Morgana returns with a bowl of popcorn, Gwen says, “Okay, phones on silent.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Morgana climbs on the bed. “Shove over.”

“Oh, breaking up with the chair already?” Gwen smiles.

“It was just a holiday romance, you know how it goes. Besides, now my true love is back with a whole new series.”

“Yeah, I love it when they do that,” says Gwen, and presses ‘play’.

+

Excerpt from Revolutions shooting script for episode 2.01, ‘Ultimatum’:

INT. DRAGON’S HEAD TAVERN – NIGHT

The tavern is empty. Marie polishes glasses behind the bar. There is a knock.

MARIE
We’re closed!

JENNY
It’s me!

MARIE
Jenny? [She rushes to the door and lets her in.] Jenny, are you all right? What’s wrong?

JENNY
I didn’t know where else to go. They came to my house. The police came to my house and started ransacking our library and asking me all sorts of questions—

MARIE
What? The police?

JENNY
They were asking me about Karl!

MARIE
Why doesn’t that surprise me.

JENNY
What’s going on? Has Karl told you anything? Or Friedrich?

MARIE
No, nothing. Sit down, I’ll get you a drink. You look like you could use one.

JENNY
There’s no time! Look, they tried to arrest me-

MARIE
Arrest you?

JENNY
We have to get out of here, Marie.

MARIE
‘We’? Why do I have to go?
There is loud banging on the tavern door.

POLICE
Open up in the name of the law!

JENNY
Because you’re next.

+

Morgana’s reaction post to Revolutions 2.01

TOP 5 GREATEST THINGS ABOUT REVOLUTIONS 2.01

5. Ermen trying to talk Engels Sr. out of the deal. Oh Richard Wilson, never stop making the best faces EVER.

4. Drunk!Karl! Where is the fic that continues this scene with sexytimes in the bathroom?

3. Gratuitous shirtless Friedrich.

2. The promise that Karl makes to Friedrich fjslkfjdkl

1. JENNY AND MARIE, FUGITIVES OF AWESOME

I’m so glad Show is back. \o/

+

The header of Gwen’s first Revolutions fic

Title: Four Times Friedrich Was Wrong and One Time He Wasn’t
Author: Lareine
Pairing: Friedrich/Jenny, Friedrich/Marie, Friedrich/Karl
Rating: PG13
Summary: “Friedrich had been raised to be a certain sort of man, with certain sorts of preferences or at least a fair amount of discretion.”
A/N: Thanks to Cassandra for betareading! <3

+

A Revolutions video diary

[Camera shakily zooms in on Colin, who is stuffing a heaping spoonful of crepe into his mouth. They are sitting at an outside table of a restaurant.]

BRADLEY, off-screen: Morning, Revolutions fans. Here is everyone’s favorite revolutionary, Colin Morgan. Say hi, Colin.

COLIN: …Hi.

BRADLEY: Colin, it’s rude to talk with your mouth full. You’re very rude. [Turns the camera on himself and stage-whispers:] It’s because he’s a communist.

COLIN, off-screen: I’m a dirty communist.

BRADLEY: [Turns camera on Colin again.] Dirty and rude. He is almost a hippie. [Turns the camera on the wide cobbled square and its array of tourists photographing the architecture.] Voila Montpellier. You probably know it better as Paris, old stomping grounds of everyone’s favorite Marx brother. Right now, we are in la Place de la Comedie. The comedy place! Dunno why they named it that, doesn’t seem very funny to me. It’s very pretty, though. It’s one of the best things about filming here, getting to wake up and have breakfast in a place like this. Look, here is my breakfast. [Turns the camera on an empty plate.] Here it was, at any rate. It was too delicious to film. Colin? [Turns camera on Colin.]

COLIN: Yeah?

BRADLEY: What did you order for me? [Turns camera on himself.] Colin does all my French-speaking for me. [Turns camera on Colin.]

COLIN: ‘S like mine, but with a different cheese and no pine nuts.

BRADLEY: Pine nuts?

COLIN: Yeah. They’re good.

BRADLEY: What cheese did you get?

COLIN: The roquefort? It’s like a blue cheese.

BRADLEY: Eurgh.

COLIN: It’s pretty good, actually. They make them in these caves that are, um, the only place where this one type of bacteria is found, so the cheese is unique-

BRADLEY: The cheese is unique…

COLIN: Yeah, because the bacteria that helps ferments it - or something - is also unique, and-

BRADLEY: All right, I’ve heard enough.

COLIN: This is endemic cheese, right here. Endemic cheese in my crepe.

BRADLEY: How do you know so much about blue bacteria cheese?

COLIN: Remember during our day off I spent the day with Angel?

BRADLEY: Yeah.

COLIN: She wanted to visit the Roquefort caves where they made them.

BRADLEY: I am sorry for you.

COLIN: It was fun.

BRADLEY: Out of pity, I am inviting you to spend the next day off with me.

COLIN: I don’t know. Roquefort cheese is pretty tough to beat.

BRADLEY: Are you saying that when it comes to Bradley James versus a cheese, I’d lose?

COLIN: You might have a chance. You just have to use its own weapons against it. First, you have to start smelling really bad.

BRADLEY: I can do that.

COLIN: But you also have to taste really good.

BRADLEY: Done! This cheese won’t stand a chance!

[Colin’s mobile buzzes with a text message.]

BRADLEY: Who is it?

COLIN: [Checks phone, frowns.] It’s Katie.

BRADLEY: What does Katie want.

COLIN: She says… we’re late.

BRADLEY: What? [Camera jiggles as Bradley reaches in his pocket for his own phone, and there is a short glimpse of Bradley flipping it open at the side of the screen.] Oh sh-

[Camera is turned off.]

+

A post from Gwen’s LJ, and a comment thread

It has been a while since I’ve done a meme, so here is one that everyone’s been doing in the interest of following the crowd. Give me a fandom and I’ll tell you my ships in the following format:

+ OTP
+ Runner-up
+ Honorable mention(s)
+ Crack pairing(s)
+ Ship everyone else seems to like, but I don't

_cassandra_
Revolutions!

lareine
Why am I not surprised? ;)
+ OTP: Karl/Friedrich
+ Runner-up(s): Jenny/Marie
+ Honorable mention(s): Friedrich/Jenny, Karl/Jenny, Engels Sr./Marie
+ Crack Pairing(s): Engels Sr./textiles
+ Pairing everyone else seems to like but you don’t: There was a lot of Karl/Engels Sr. after 1x09. I’m not that interested, though.

_cassandra_
I’m surprised Engels Sr./Marie is not a runner-up!

lareine
Well they only met twice and all they did was glare and bitch at each other!

_cassandra_
If by ‘glare’ you mean ‘smoldering stare of passion’! If by ‘bitch’ you mean ‘flirt’. what happened to that Marie/Engels Sr. fic you said you were writing?

lareine
A 10 page paper happened. : (

_cassandra_
Booooooooooooo!

lareine
: ( : ( : (

+

Excerpt from the Marie/Engels Sr. fic that Gwen is writing:

The first time Marie Sonnenfeld set foot in the Engels household, she was too busy worrying about Karl’s safety to notice its grandeur. She absorbs it now: the chandelier, the thick carpeting, the embroidered curtains pulled shut, as if to prevent the inside looking out, the outside looking in. Everyone has their place in the world, the elder Engels had told her the last time they met. A house has an upstairs and a downstairs.

Engels Sr. sits at the head of a long table laden with food, and she sits at the other. Marie is unaccustomed to such luxury but it seems familiar, like she has seen through a glass darkly. It is the tangible form of the enemy. Karl may go on all night about the bourgeois industrialists, but this is what they eat. Here is where they sleep.

“You’ve barely touched your mutton, Ms. Sonnenfeld,” says Engels. “Is anything the matter?”

“Not at all,” she replies. “I’m not hungry.”

“Then more wine perhaps?”

Before Marie can say anything, Engels rises from his seat and approaches her, bottle in hand. He looks straight into her eyes, so she doesn’t dare look away. His expression is dangerously benign, and his gait confident.

Engels says, “Lift your glass, Ms. Sonnenfeld.”

She does. The wine glass is a delicate thing in her hand; she feels it might shatter if she holds it too tightly. “How kind of you to invite me into your home, Mr. Engels.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he says as he pours the wine. “I’m sure we have much to discuss over the course of the evening.”

“Indeed,” Marie agrees. She smiles a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, and then she drinks. “I look forward to it.”

+

And then Angel reaches over and puts her hand over the camera lens and says, “Put that thing away, McGrath.”

“But we’re at the beach,” Katie protests. “There’s-”

“That’s exactly why you should put it away.” She smiles. “Come on. Come into the water with me.”

“What about our things?”

“Bradley will watch over them.”

They both look over at Bradley, who is fast asleep lathered in lotion under his large umbrella.

Katie gives Angel a dubious look. “He looks indisposed.”

Angel rolls her eyes and takes Katie’s hand. “Come on, we won’t be a minute. A quick dip, then you can go back to narrating your innermost thoughts to your adoring public.”

And when it comes down to it, who can say no to the Mediterranean? Katie has to commend the location scouts – Montpellier makes a brilliant Paris, and the shores of the Mediterranean make a good place to hang out during days off. There are buses that take you to and from the sea; it’s so easy to give in. With barely any effort, you can smell the salt breeze in the air.

Katie and Angel begin to walk to the sea, and it’s a little awkward because they’re still holding hands, so Angel lets go and starts running ahead. She looks over her shoulder and yells, “I’ll race you to the water!”

“Hey!” And Katie runs. “Hey, that’s cheating!”

But Angel isn’t even listening now, just running and laughing and making her way through the obstacle course of sunbathers and families until her feet splash into an incoming wave. Angel spins around to face her, maybe to taunt Katie some more, but maybe she isn’t expecting how close Katie is already, so Angel turns right back around and continues running into the sea. When the water is up to her thighs, Katie pounces.

The sea is cool and exhilarating around her after the heat of the sun, and the salt stings her eyes. Angel wriggles in her grasp and Katie lets go, and as soon as she surfaces, Angel dunks her again. The fight is a joyful one, and it continues until Katie is choking on water she inhaled because she was laughing too hard.

“I think I won,” Angel grins.

“Since when have you been so competitive?” Katie sputters.

Instead of answering, Angel wades close to her with a guarded smile on her face, and leans in, looking over Katie’s shoulder. “Do you ever get the feeling you’re being watched?”

“What?”

Katie turns around, and right there on the beach, right where they left him, Bradley is filming them. Realizing he is caught, he removes the camera from his face and waves enthusiastically.

“Oh honestly,” Katie mutters, rolling her eyes.

“Do you think this one will get put up as an official video diary, then?”

“Dunno. We weren’t being particularly interesting, but at least it’s not like the unusable video diaries Julian keeps giving us shit for.”

“Imagine if those got out,” Angel muses. “The tabloids would have a party with it.”

“Especially the part where you drank four margaritas and-”

“I thought we agreed never to speak of that again. And besides, at least I still had my shirt on by the end of the night.”

“Yeah, but you were the cause of my undress, if you remember. Which I guess you don’t.”

“You can’t keep blaming me for your own appetites, Katie,” Angel grins.

“What?”

Angel flicks water at her, so Katie splashes her back. The second battle commences and, just as before, neither girl care what camera captures it.