Today is the day of the gorgeousest, most talented and loveliest alby_mangroves birth.
This was a great year in many ways: I had the opportunity to meet Bradley and the knights (and lost my mind over Bradley more than ever), I saw the most luminescent Colin Morgan on stage in London and met some really wonderful fangirls. As a result of going to Supanova, I had the pleasure of welcoming Alby into my home, squeeing with her over Merlin fanvids and episodes and clutching at her when the most splendiferous sight walked past us whilst waiting in the photos queue.
I count myself lucky to have gotten to know Alby so well this year. I can't imagine fandom without her: her talent is astounding and I'm so looking forward to working with her on our special sekrit project (eeeeeeeeeeeeeee.)
Mroe than that, though, I am proud and grateful that Alby is my friend. She is kind and loving and hilarious and such an amazing, positive force in my life.
And I will stop going on, because I know she'll be yelling STAHPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP at her computer screen.
I was hoping to get the fic I have been working on for you done, Alby, but as you know the old muse is not behaving this week, so instead I'm posting three drabbles based on the prompts you gave me.
Bradley/Colin: spicy food, beanie, (the colour) orange
Colin takes him to this trendy Indian restaurant in Camden the day he gets back: it’s all vegan, sustainable, macrobiotic crap which Bradley hates. It doesn’t taste like food at all. But he doesn’t complain even though all he wants is a juicy steak, a fried egg and some of those thick, greasy chips to drag through the yellow-orangey yolk.
Instead, he sits there, eating mung bean korma or whatever and staring at Colin, his eyes bright and smiling, beanie pulled down over his ears.
He catches Bradley staring and nudges him, trainer sneaking under the leg of his jeans.
Bradley/Colin: email, cold, loneliness
The heating goes down one Saturday in November. Colin takes to wearing an extra pullover to compensate for the biting chill, so unforgiving that his bones ache with it. He can almost hear that familiar voice, telling him it’d be much more pleasant if he wasn’t such a malnourished waif.
He sits in front of his laptop and opens the most recent email, entitled ten facts about the Irish you never wanted to know but I’ll tell you anyway.
Colin hits reply, drinks his peppermint tea and stares at the blank email for hours before he types: I miss you.
Bradley/Colin: dawn, music, remembering
They stay up talking all night, that last night in Wales. It’s weird, surreal and Bradley can’t believe that on Monday he’ll wake up and he won’t be Arthur anymore. Won’t be going to work and throwing on heavy chainmail and waving a sword around possibly ever again.
The bottle of tequila’s almost empty when Joy Division’s Love Will Tear Us Apart comes up on Bradley’s iTunes.
“Do you remember—?” Colin asks.
Bradley doesn’t answer. He just nods and closes his eyes, surrenders himself to the memory of Colin’s hands on his skin and his voice curling around his ears.
Also, Alby, bc I looooove you. Have some of my favourite Bradley/Arthur pics :DDDD
This picspam is NOT DIAL-UP FRIENDLY (Remember that? LOL)