this is a blog dedicated to short fiction and fanworks focusing on femslash in BBC Merlin, and a sister project to @merthurmicrofic ♡
—✦ 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒅
new prompts will be published at the beginning of each month
there will be three different prompts to choose from
despite the name, all femslash pairings are welcome
please keep in mind that this is an 18+ space
—✦ 𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒔
every fill must be inspired by the prompt(s) (you can incorporate the word in your work, use it as a title, use it for inspiration, etc.)
you can choose one prompt, create one or more fills for each prompt, or try combining all prompts into one fic -- whatever works for you!
the guideline for fics is 50 words -- this is by no means a limit, only an indication. feel free to write more (or less!) if you want
every type of fanwork is encouraged: microfic, art, gifsets, fic recs, video edits, web weaves, moodboards, playlists... go wild!
remember to tag @morgwenmicrofic when posting your work, so we can see it and share it <3
—✦ 𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔
no AI. all submissions must be human-made
works must be centered around Morgana/Gwen or other femslash pairings. poly ships are welcome as well
all ratings are accepted (remember to include all appropriate warnings)
relationships are not required to be strictly romantic or sexual. platonic or gen fics are encouraged, as long as they keep the focus on the female characters. this is a space created to celebrate women in the show, so we ask you to keep this in mind when creating your work
—✦ 𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒐:
you can crosspost with other events
ask box is open for questions and/or prompt submissions
there is no deadline for submitting your work!
PROMPTS ✿ MASTERLISTS ✿ TAGS
this blog is moderated by @limbel, @frogmerthur, @peachesandcringe ⚔️
@morgwenmicrofic fill: Mythology! + @merlinbingo fill: Next Door Neighbours
Message for my dear beloved friend Twigs ~ @desertbuddie
I promised myself I wouldn't cry while writing this, lol which did not happen I did cry, because this story is special because it is for my wonderful, kind, amazing friend Twigs. I'm forever greatful that you were in my life. I love you so very much, and hope this story conveys even a little bit of that love I have for you! <3 Penblwydd Hapus fy ffrind.
Morgana couldn't believe they were finally here. After years of planning and working, and saving, they had finally moved out and away from their terrible house.
Finally gotten away from the fear and hatred that was there father, to a magical sanctuary.
She still couldn't fully believe that her brother had given up everything to get her out, to get them both out.
Morgana was born with magic, in a world that still didn't understand it. For many centuries it was but folklore, and myths. Whispers and tall tales about fairies, and witches, dragons, and sorcery.
But just that myths, and legend. Yet at the turn of the millennial magic jumped out of the storybooks and revealed itself as true.
Now all around the world there were small sanctuaries, little communities where those who practice magic, or had the gift could go to be surrounded by those like them in safety.
Getting there though was hard, and often expensive, although there were charities that helped abused and endangered magic folk to get to one of these villages, that had not been an option to Morgana and Arthur.
They knew their father would find out, so they had needed a proper plan, because once they pulled the shoot that was it, they would be gone.
Yet here they stood now, unloading their boxes into their new flat in the downtown of the magical village of Ealdor, on the west coast of Cymru.
Far away from their old home in London safe, together, and happy.
"Hey Gana, I'm going to head out to pick up the takeaway, you'll be alright here for a bit right?" asked her younger brother Arthur.
"Yes, yes now go get the food, I'm starving after all that unloading," she ordered jokingly.
"If only you were a kitchen/hearth witch, then you could just conjure up some food for us," teased Arthur, as he stepped out the front door.
Morgana rolled her eyes, it was surprising how much Arthur had throw himself into learning about magic archetypes, history, and mythology since they started planning their move here.
He really had supported her through it all. She didn't know where she'd be without him, but she was grateful she didn't have to imagine that life.
She continued opening up a few more boxes, getting out the few bits of kitchenware, and cutlery that they would need to for eating their supper, when she heard a knock at the front door.
"Back, already," Morgana laughed, as she opened the door, and a beautiful young woman stood in front of her doorstep.
She wore, a long flowing skirt with colourful embroidery, and a soft purple blouse with a light cream shawl around her shoulders and in her hands was two large cookie tins.
"Sorry, um I thought you were my brother, he went to go pick up our dinner, we just moved in here and haven't fully unpacked," she rambled her mind taken hold of by the stunning woman standing in front of her.
"Oh, no worries, I'm sure you weren't expecting any company, since you've only just moved here, but I wanted to introduced myself. My name is Guinevere, but everyone calls me Gwen, I'm one of your upper flat neighbours, and the person who shares the back garden with you," said Gwen warmly, placing the tins underneath her right arm and holding out her hand brightly.
"Oh, well, lovely to meet you Miss Gwen," she said shaking her soft hand gently.
"It's nice to meet you, my roommate, my brother as you heard he's just out at the moment, is there anything I can do for you?" she asked.
"Oh no, it's what I wanted to do for you two, I brought you welcome cookies, nothing like a nice home baked treat to bring in some warmth and prosperity to your new home! Baked em myself, me and my roommate, well he's not just my roommate he's my best friend, he's lovely, he's just watching our current foster dragon, yeah, she's feeling a little poorly right now, otherwise he would've come too, and now I realize I'm just rambling on," Gwen chuckled and stopped.
"May I ask, you're um, you're a witch right?" Morgana stuttered out, "Sorry, I really don't know what I'm doing, is that rude? I really didn't mean it to be rude, I'm just so new to the magical community at all never mind moving here here-"
"Hey, it's okay, you're fine, just breath" said Gwen kindly, "I'm a witch, I predominately practice kitchen/hearth witchcraft. I've had the gift since birth, but you should meet Merlin, my roommate/best friend, he is one of the most powerful sorcerer's I've ever met. So you're new to magic?"
"Oh, yes well my father he… um well he isn't' a fan per say, so my brother and I saved up to move here, so I could find people like me and understand my own magic," she explained nervously.
"Say no more, there's lots of lovely people here who came from similar backgrounds to you. You and your brother will be very welcome here, in fact I should give you my house phone, since most folks don't have iphones here, but we have a landline that you can call, although you're always welcome to just pop on in, you or your brother," said Gwen, as a little piece of card popped out from her skirt pocket landing on top of the tray with a number, and information on it.
Morgana looked down reading the card, it said, Coedwig & Cartref ~ Hud Nwyddau, and had three numbers on it.
"What does that mean? I'm not very familiar with Cymraeg yet, though I have been trying my best to learn it," said Morgana eagerly.
"Oh, yes of course, it means 'Forest and Home ~ Magic Goods' it's my friend and I's store, we sell a whole plethora of things there, but our home phone number is also on there, I just magicked it into my pocket. Anyways, I'm not sure, how much you'll be in our shared garden, but I am there constantly, I grow a lot of different plants for a variety of reasons, so you'll probably see me out there often, through the kitchen window. But Merlin and I'd be happy to have the company or if you need someone to show you guys around the village, Merlin has lived here his whole life," Gwen said cheerfully.
"His whole life? Wait Merlin, as in Merlin Emrys? As in the son of Balinor and Hunith Emrys the creators of this sanctuary?" Morgana asked her eyes widening.
"Oh yes, yes that would be him, but really he's just Merlin, he's incredibly powerful yes, but also incredibly kind, he's my dearest friend, and a genuinely really great person," explained Gwen.
Morgana smiled, she felt more comfortable knowing that this Merlin's praises were being sung by the lovely Guinevere. Though she had a feeling Gwen had nice things to say about anyone, she was sure that she wouldn't room with an arse.
"Anyways, I suppose, I should leave you be with these baked goods! I hope that you'll enjoy them, and hopefully we'll see you soon?" Gwen asked warmly with a bright smile.
"Yes, yes that would be lovely," Morgana stammered in return, carefully taking the two tins of baked goods.
"Lovely, well have a nice night Morgana, and please feel free to come by anytime, or ring if you need a guide around the village! Nos Da Morgana!" said Gwen as she swept back up the stairs waving cutely.
Morgana closed the door over, placing the cookie tins down on the kitchen counter.
She sighed, what a lovely and beautiful neighbour, seems like she really lucked out in the neighbour department. Though she wondered how Merlin, the son of the creators of the village ended up rooming with her, she bet there was an interesting story there.
"I'm back 'Gana, and I bring sustenance!" bellowed her brother as he opened the door and brought in their supper.
"Where'd these come from?" Arthur asked as he placed the take out bag on the wood counter.
"Oh, the upstairs neighbour came by, she wanted to welcome us into the village," Morgana said her face blushing lightly.
"First day here and you're already making friends see I told you that moving here was the right thing!" Arthur said with a smile.
"Yes, yes you were right as you always are," she snarked at her little brother, but honestly she couldn't be happier about the future that they held in their wonderful new home.
Happy pride! As Reinaeiry says in her pinned comment on this gorgeous song, "sapphics doomed by the narrative you have all of my love, and also all of my tears."
@morgwenmicrofic prompt: mythology
─januaryhoney, Medea // Nikita Gill, Hera // Jennifer Saint, Ariadne // Trista Mateer, Aphrodite Made Me Do It // Salma Deera, Medea's Reasons // Nikita Gill, Great Goddesses: Life Lessons from Myths and Monsters
| prompt: "is this true?" (hope slight rephrasing is okay?) | words: 281 |
| other tags: alternate universe: modern setting, one night stands, implied sexual content, rumours |
~
The party hall is a crowded space, lights shimmering and glittering in a way that distorts silhouettes and makes everything just a bit more anonymous, such that in the following morning's hangover memories of faces may blur together until none are distinct, and any fleeting connection can be plausibly denied.
By now, Gwen is already pleasantly drunk, and probably much more uninhibited than she's allowed herself to be in months. Her friends nudge her towards the dance floor, and she stumbles gracelessly a little, but follows happily with the crowd, swaying vaguely to the rhythm.
Somebody laughs beautifully behind her, and without thought, Gwen whips her head around, seeking the sound. There, head thrown back, bright-red lips curled in a sarcastic smile, hair cascading in gleaming dark waves down her back. Their eyes lock, for a single, electric moment and Gwen feels a sudden heat all over her body.
She's ready for it to pass in a moment, but instead it turns into a tunnel-vision focus, as the woman turns towards her and approaches, with a slow sway in her hips, never breaking eye contact.
She remembers very little after that, and simultaneously, every moment of it is etched crystal clear into her mind. Smooth, cool hand holding her chin, a teasing cherry-red smile. That same cherry-red smeared on her neck. Hands, skin. Stumbling through the crowd, towards the door, into the dimly lit hallway. Panting breaths, back pressed against the wall. Cold night air hitting heated skin.
Getting home late into the night, falling asleep without even changing. Being asked the next morning:
𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬:
CAGE // "IS THIS TRUE?" // MYTHOLOGY
write a microfic or create fanwork inspired by one of the prompts (or combine them for an extra challenge) and tag @morgwenmicrofic ♡
RULES | PAST PROMPTS
𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬:
CAGE // "IS THIS TRUE?" // MYTHOLOGY
write a microfic or create fanwork inspired by one of the prompts (or combine them for an extra challenge) and tag @morgwenmicrofic ♡
RULES | PAST PROMPTS
The motion is almost a curtsy. Gwen’s dress skims the earth as she dips low to pluck a flower. She will place it in a vase beside the window, lit by a shaft of stray light— tend to it with cool clear water. Her fingertips will brush its petals, breeze-soft.
Soon it will wither and fade. Soon, she must cast it away. It is too late already: the rot has set in, and rot brings ruin, and pain, and sorrow, and death.
For now, it is bright and beautiful. Gwen rises and remembers Morgana as she carries the flower home.
hey there! I'm so sorry to be annoying and be all "look at meeeeee" haha but I wrote a microfic for the flowers prompt and it seems like the tag didn't work or something and it fell through the cracks? anyway I love your project and want to present my own humble offering so here it is: https://www.tumblr.com/theleftoveryou/817198459639808000/things-i-have-loved-im-allowed-to-keep-the?source=share
hello! not annoying at all — in fact, thanks for letting us know! we’ll reblog it and add it to our masterlist asap <3
if this ever happens again, or if you notice we haven’t reblogged you fill after a week, chances are the tag didn’t work. in that case, don’t hesitate to send us an ask or tag us again in the comments :)
thank you so much for participating, we’re so happy you’re enjoying what we’re doing <3 truly looking forward to see even more from you!
@frogmerthur — web weave, gwen/mithian · moodboard, gwen/mithian · web weave, gwen/morgana · web weave, freya/morgana · web weave, nimueh/ygraine · web weave, nimueh/ygraine
@girasoligialli — fic, gwen/morgana
@haloud — fic, freya/sophia
@happybunnykat — fic, gwen/morgana
@idkhowtomakethis — fic, gwen/morgana
@interrogatethecat — fic, hunith/ygraine
@keeperofdragons — fic, gwen/morgana
@limbel — art, mithian, kara, freya & sophia
@many-gay-magpies — fic, gwen/morgana
@peachesandcringe — video, gwen/morgana
@readingbythequire — web weave, gwen/morgana
@secondstar-acorn — video, gwen/morgana
@thebookluvrr1816 — gifset, gwen/morgana
@theleftoveryou — fic, gwen/morgana
—✦ prompt: 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐩
@hagstoned — fic, gwen/morgana
@limbel — art, gwen/morgana
—✦ prompt: "𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝"
@frogmerthur — web weave, kara
@mayonaisie — fic, gwen/morgana
@tiredandoptimistic — fic, gwen/morgana
That’s a wrap on another month, and what a month it was! Thank you to every single person who created, reblogged, commented and generally showed up for more femslash this month. We’ll see you again when the next prompts drop ♡
@morgwenmicrofic prompt "I'm not afraid" 265 words
For Morgana, Camelot had always been a place shrouded in fear. Fear of Uther's wrath, fear of her visions, fear of being discovered for what she was. For a time, it felt as though the only time she wasn't afraid was when she was with Gwen. Gwen, with her soft smiles and rough hands, who seemed to smooth away Morgana's nightmares with a brush of her skin. Of course, as soon as Morgana realized this, she also realized that she had something entirely new to be afraid of: Gwen being taken from her. Perhaps Gwen would be ripped away like when Morgana's parents were killed, or perhaps she would slip out of reach like when Arthur decided he'd rather be a Pendragon than a brother. Either way, Morgana knew that there would be nothing she could do to stop it. She was cursed with enough power to see her world coming to an end, but never enough to stop the carnage.
Perhaps this was why, when Morgause offered her a different path, Morgana didn't hesitate. As the stolen crown settled on her head, Morgana saw a set of warm brown eyes, and knew that she finally had the power to keep everything exactly as it should be. She imagined Uther as she had seen him last, chained in his own dungeon. I'm not afraid of you anymore, she thought gleefully. For the first time in her life, she gazed out at Camelot and saw a place where she and Gwen would never have to hide, and it was worth whatever she'd done to get there.
freya/sophia for @morgwenmicrofic prompt "flowers", 242 words
“All this time and you still won’t talk to me?”
The girl drapes herself over a broad, flat stone, her head pillowed on her folded arms. Below the water, Freya knows, her legs are kicking lazily swathed in gauzy golden silk. Her face, sweet with mischief, is tilted up to catch the sun on her pale cheek.
Freya pulls her knees tight to her chest, arms wrapped around her shins. The afternoon warmth ripples all across the lake’s unclouded surface and sloshes through Freya’s veins or what passes for them now. In some part of her the clinging ribbons of the girl’s skirt billow to and fro and Freya wants to snag them, pull them, tangle her up, just because she can.
The other Sidhe never talk to Freya. She is beneath their notice, outside their realm, neither flesh nor spirit: more like the sunlight than the water or the lilies or the mist. But Lady Sophia is an exception, nosy and pestering; and Freya, who never had much company in life and certainly never the company of fairy ladies, hasn’t mustered the courage to answer her endless questions.
“Well, you’re not very nice,” Freya reasons, and at the sound of her voice, Sophia perks up.
“It’s not very nice to ignore people, either,” Sophia teases. “So, what’s your name, rude girl?”
“...Freya.”
Eyes twinkling, Sophia holds out her hand, palm down, for a kiss.
For @morgwenmicrofic | Prompt: Flower | Word Cound: 752
There was a narrow path behind the lower town, half-swallowed by wild grass and tangled brambles and the slow, patient insistence of nature reclaiming what people forgot, and it was there, on a bright spring morning washed clean by rain from the night before, that Morgana first found Gwen gathering flowers.
She had escaped the castle because the walls felt too close, because every corridor echoed with expectations she had never asked for, because every nobleman seemed to have an opinion on what she should become and every servant lowered their eyes when she passed, and because the sky beyond the battlements had looked impossibly blue and she had wanted to walk beneath it.
She almost missed Gwen entirely.
The blacksmith's daughter was kneeling in the grass several yards away, her skirts stained with dirt, her sleeves rolled carelessly to her elbows, completely absorbed in the task before her as though the fate of the kingdom depended upon it.
Gwen reached for a cluster of tiny white blossoms growing between stones, smiling faintly as she gathered them, and there was something so peaceful about the sight that Morgana found herself reluctant to move.
Most people behaved differently when she was near.
They straightened.
Stumbled over words.
Became painfully aware of her rank.
But Gwen, unaware she was being observed, seemed utterly herself.
And perhaps that was what kept Morgana standing there longer than she intended.
Eventually a twig snapped beneath her boot.
Gwen startled.
Her head jerked upward.
For a moment they simply stared at one another.
Then Gwen rose so quickly she nearly dropped half her flowers.
"My lady."
"What are you doing?"
Gwen glanced down at the flowers gathered in her arms.
"Collecting these."
"Obviously."
A laugh escaped Gwen.
Morgana felt absurdly pleased she had caused it.
"For my father," Gwen explained. "He likes having flowers in the house."
Morgana looked at the mismatched collection.
Tiny white blossoms.
Yellow buttercups.
Blue cornflowers.
"They're just weeds."
Gwen's expression softened.
"No."
The answer came so simply that Morgana looked back at her.
Gwen held up a flower.
A small thing.
Fragile.
Ordinary.
"They're flowers."
Something about the certainty in her voice made Morgana smile despite herself.
The morning stretched around them.
Birdsong drifted through the trees.
A breeze stirred loose strands of Gwen's dark hair.
And without entirely understanding why, Morgana remained.
She helped gather flowers.
Badly.
She crushed stems.
Picked the wrong plants.
Got caught in thorns twice.
Gwen laughed every time with genuine amusement that made Morgana want to hear the sound again.
And again.
And again.
By the time they finished, the basket was overflowing.
Gwen sat beneath a tree to arrange the flowers into something resembling a bouquet.
Morgana sat beside her.
Gwen worked carefully, weaving stems together with patient fingers.
Morgana watched.
Finally, Gwen selected a single flower from the bundle.
A pale blue cornflower.
She hesitated.
Then held it out.
"For you."
Morgana stared.
Nobody gave her gifts.
Not real gifts.
Jewels were obligations.
Silks were expectations.
Everything expensive came attached to something.
But this was just a flower.
Picked from a field.
Offered because Gwen wanted to offer it.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Morgana accepted it carefully.
As though it might break.
"Thank you."
Their eyes met.
For a moment neither looked away.
And something settled between them.
Not love.
Not yet.
Nothing so obvious.
Just the faintest beginning of something.
A thread.
A possibility.
A flower pushing through stone.
Small enough to miss.
Strong enough to survive.
Then voices drifted faintly from the direction of Camelot.
Reality returning.
The castle.
Responsibilities.
The distance that existed between a king's ward and a blacksmith's daughter.
Gwen stood first.
"We should go back."
"Probably."
Neither moved immediately.
Morgana turned the cornflower slowly between her fingers.
Blue petals catching sunlight.
Ridiculously ordinary.
Ridiculously precious.
When they finally began walking toward Camelot, the flower remained tucked safely behind Morgana's ear, and though she would later receive necklaces made of gold and gowns sewn with silver thread and gifts worth more than most people earned in a year, it was that small blue flower she remembered long afterward, because it had been given freely, beneath an open sky, by a girl who saw flowers where others saw weeds and who, without knowing it, had begun to make Morgana wonder whether the world contained more kindness than she had ever dared believe.
Beside her, Gwen carried the basket home.
And every so often, when she thought Morgana wasn't looking, she smiled.
