oh the final season of bbc merlin. lol. lmao even.
so like. here’s the thing about merlin and specifically about season 5 of merlin.
i think the writers were writing the best season they could write given they accidentally wrote themselves into a hole they could never feasibly get out of by allowing the conceit of their show to go on too long even when there were good places to pivot.
but the problem is that they wrote themselves into the hole. and the hole was bad.
they built up this entire promise of a golden age of camelot, with arthur as king and merlin beside him bringing magic back into the land. the kind of reign that would inspire people to talk about arthur for centuries to come, and the kind that would make his death a tragedy to all of his people.
instead they never took any of the chances to let arthur see merlin as he was, to give him a real chance of bringing magic back and ushering in the age. we see merlin turn more bitter, more angry—which colin morgan did beautifully—and in the end we see him sabotaging his own chance at that beautiful future bc it’s what he’s done for so long that he doesn’t know how to do anything else. it’s no longer about the future with arthur. it’s just about how to keep arthur safe even if he and everyone else is abjectly fucking miserable.
and then we end on merlin 1500 years later, alone and miserable and waiting on a promise not ever kept and unlikely to ever be kept, given camelot is gone forever even if arthur does return. how can there be a golden age of camelot when camelot has been paved over and magic is all but gone? even if the golden age was meant to be later, it was never gonna be what we were promised. and we would never see it.
instead we get all of that leading up to a death we all knew would come eventually, but one that is all the more tragic and frustrating and generally unacceptable bc it wasn’t earned. arthur didn’t die a legendary king (even if i do believe he was a very good one, magic prejudices aside). merlin never got his laurels; he was just bitter and less and less moral by the day until it bit him and everyone he loved in the ass. everyone suffered and for no reason. the legendary death of king arthur wasn’t a tragedy bc the world had lost one of the best men it had ever known. it was a tragedy bc he never got to be that man. and the writers gave us no good reason for it other than they found themselves in a hole and then they kept fucking digging.
HOWEVER, props to colin morgan and especially to bradley james, as they both acted their asses off in that season. merlin is genuinely chilling in much of season 5, and bradley james is heartwrenchingly sad and burdened like all of the time. his delivery of “why did you never tell me?” keeps me up at night. they both did everything they absolutely could do with what they were given, but the promise of what they could have been given hurts all the more knowing what they could’ve done with it given the talent they possessed.
anyways. i demand restitution from the bbc from all the christmas eves ruined forever.
send me a ☕️ and a topic and i’ll tell you my opinion on it!
13 (Drunken/drugged/sleepy confessions) for Matt/Foggy
(from this list of prompts)
Matt wakes up with a violent start, feeling hazy and slow and just wrong somehow. He knows instantly that he’s not in his apartment, because the bed feels different—it smells different, clean in a dull, itchy, cloying way that he doesn’t associate with his usual detergent—and there’s a bunch of sounds that he can’t identify, but they’re not the city sounds he’s accustomed to or the shuffling, mundane sounds of his neighbors going about their lives. There’s people about, certainly, but a lot of them, he thinks, and they sound urgent, even though when they speak, it’s at a whisper and when they move, it’s never at a run. But if he tries to sense much more than that, he just…can’t. It’s like there’s a wall inside his brain and it’s made out of cotton balls. It’s almost nice.
“Did you just say ‘balls…nice…’ to yourself?” Foggy asks, groggily, from his left. Matt realizes belatedly that the heartbeat he’d heard up close was Foggy’s and he’s just so used to it that his mind unconsciously filtered it out as background noise. God help him if Foggy ever goes rogue and tries to smother him (or just comes to his senses and tries it finally), he’ll have an exceptionally easy time getting past Matt’s defenses.
“Cotton balls,” Matt replies, even though that doesn’t really explain anything. Trying to string words together is exceptionally hard at the moment; it’s like the right ones are floating above his head but reaching for them only knocks them further out of his grasp.
Foggy yawns. “Oh, sure,” he says. “You’re in the hospital, by the way. And on massive amounts of painkillers, in case that wasn’t immediately obvious already.”
That explained a lot, including why the world felt so small to him suddenly. Any medication stronger than aspirin dulled the edges of the world for him significantly. His senses just didn’t reach as far and his reflexes were much slower. This is why he avoided painkillers normally. He didn’t enjoy this feeling.
“What happened?” he asked, trying to sit up. His body doesn’t feel terribly sore—thanks to the medication, probably—but it does feel stiff and misused. He’s got a bandage on his forehead and a few on his torso that he can feel and when he shifts—yep, that pulling sensation is stitches. Great.
“I don’t know,” Foggy answers, sharply. “I was really hoping you might be able to shed some light on the matter for me, considering you were there.”
“There was a…trade being made. Down at the docks, a warehouse by the river,” Matt explains, even as the details seem hesitant to rise to the surface. “It was that weapons dealer I’ve been following. Maya tipped me off—Oh, God! Maya!”
“Maya’s fine,” Foggy interrupts. “She’s the one who brought you to me.”
“What? Did she say—?”
“My ASL is trash, Matthew, I don’t know! She texted me from your phone, I came and got you, she disappeared into the night. And looked much cooler doing it than you ever did, can I just say?”
“Is this your way of telling me to get a motorcycle?” Matt quips, holding his ribs.
“God, just what I need!” Foggy grumbles. Even with his dulled senses, Matt can hear the crunch of the bones in Foggy’s neck when he attempts to stretch and wonders how long Foggy’s been sitting there waiting for him to wake up. He feels suddenly very sorry, on top of everything else he’s currently feeling.
“What time is it?” Matt asks, sheepishly.
“Just past four. In the morning, that is.”
It’s not as bad as Matt was expecting, but it’s still not great. “You should go home, Foggy.”
Foggy snorts sarcastically. “Yeah, sure, that’s what I’ll do, buddy. You read my mind.”
“Well, what exactly is the point of you sitting here and watching me sleep? You’ve got—We’ve got clients coming in to—today and you haven’t slept at all, I imagine, and—”
“Karen will handle things at the office,” Foggy cuts in, “and the point of watching you sleep is watching you sleep.”
“That doesn’t…make any sense.”
Foggy doesn’t immediately try to explain himself. Instead, he sits in silence for a long moment, before he laughs. “Do you know, if I had to pick a superpower—any superpower in the world—I’d want to be able to put people to sleep. Instantly.”
“That’s pretty specific,” Matt says, carefully. “And a little silly.”
“Not really,” Foggy says. “I’d knock you out cold every single night. Hell, I’d put you down for afternoon naps here and there too, just to make up for the years you’ve neglected your sleep cycle. And then you wouldn’t be able to go out fighting bad guys every night and cracking your ribs and bruising that pretty face of yours. And I wouldn’t have to worry anymore.”
“But I wouldn’t help anyone anymore, either.”
“Is that how you see it?” Foggy asks, pained. “Is what you do all day with me and Karen that meaningless to you? You think we don’t help anybody?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I think I’d do the world twice as much good knocking you out every night as you’ve ever done as Daredevil,” Foggy spits, as his heart hammers away in his chest.
Matt winces, feeling his shoulders tighten and his blood rush in his ears. It doesn’t matter. He wouldn’t hurt Foggy, not for the world. Not physically that is. And he’s not exactly in the right shape to even try it right now, anyway. Still, he doesn’t like that anyone in the world has the cheat codes to make him this angry this quickly. It’s too dangerous.
“Foggy,” he says, breathing through his nose to calm himself down, “I’m the one on drugs right now. I’m the one who’s supposed to be saying shit I can’t take back. Not you.”
“Sorry, Matt, but you wouldn’t even be here, getting proper medical attention, if you had it your way. If you hadn’t been fucking unconscious, you’d have dragged yourself home and treated your fractured ribs and busted skull with baby aspirin! So don’t talk to me about—!”
“Hey, how are we doing in here?” a soothing voice cuts in. A nurse, Matt imagines, based on the unfazed energy and the sound her shoes make on the ground as she crosses to his bed. Foggy’s voice must have started to carry. “Good to see you awake, Mr. Murdock.”
“Thank you,” he replies, mostly to cover Foggy’s scoff.
The nurse proceeds to ask him a bunch of questions about his pain level (which he lies about as naturally as breathing), his symptoms (looking for a concussion that Matt can tell from experience he doesn’t have), and whether there’s anything he needs (to leave right now, but he knows he hasn’t engendered enough goodwill to broach that topic yet). She then looks at his chart and fiddles with his I.V. before urging him to sleep again if he can, which Matt suspects won’t be up to him at all if she, as he imagines, increased his drip.
“Can I speak to you in the hallway for a moment?” she asks, sweetly but with a hidden edge. Matt’s baffled by this for a second before he realizes she’s speaking to Foggy and not him.
Foggy clearly hesitates over whether to indulge her, given what he knows of Matt’s hearing, but clears his throat and eventually responds, “Of course.”
The hallways offers them no privacy from Matt, but it clearly affords the nurse some confidence, because she says, the moment they step out, in an urgent tone: “You know, I should kick you out of here for all that!”
Foggy sighs. “I’m sorry. I know. You made an exception…”
“And I’m regretting it now,” the nurse mutters. “That’s how you talk to your partner after he’s been mugged?!”
“He—this happens a lot more than you’d think…”
“I don’t care if it happens every night! He could have died!”
“I know,” Foggy replies, solemnly, and his tone clearly catches the nurse as unaware as it catches Matt.
“Is there something going on?” she asks, sincerely concerned now. “Are you…hurting him somehow? Do you need help for…something? Anything?”
“No. Nothing like that, I promise. But thank you.”
“Is he hurting himself?” the nurse asks, after a long pause. “Because we can find help for that too.”
“Not…exactly,” Foggy says, and Matt can hear him shifting uncomfortably, crossing his arms. “He’s just not as careful as he should be. I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you more and put your mind at ease, really, but I can’t.”
The nurse pauses, clearly making sure the coast is clear, because her voice is lower and more conspiratorial when she speaks again. It’s also shaking, for that matter. “Are you in danger?”
Foggy laughs, and then evidently regrets it. “Maybe, but I’ve got…a guardian angel of sorts.”
“Is that supposed to mean something?”
“Not to you, no,” Foggy says, and Matt feels himself flush. “I appreciate the concern, but if you make Matt rest for a few more hours and resist his charms when he asks to be allowed to leave, you’ll be helping me more than you can ever imagine.”
“Okay, then. We can make a deal there,” she replies. “You know, I usually have a good sense when it comes to people and I was going to be really mad if I misread you when you came in.”
“How did you read me?”
“Really good boyfriend,” she says, and Matt doesn’t detect the slightest hint of flirtation in her voice, which…doesn’t make any sense, given her words.
“Thank you,” Foggy replies, sincerely. “I’ll keep it down, I promise. I’m sorry for the outburst.”
“You’re worried. It happens.”
“Thanks.”
They part ways, then, with the nurse going off down the hallway and Foggy turning back to linger in the doorway. Matt flops his head back onto the pillows and waits. Foggy comes back in after a moment’s hesitation.
“What was that about?”
“Your dumb ass got me in trouble with the teacher.”
“Typical me,” Matt says, with a weak smile. “Always leading you away from the bright future you deserve.”
Foggy comes to stand by the bed, his fingers tracing anxiously over the starchy hospital sheets. “Matt…”
“You were such a nice boy before I came along.”
“I’m still a nice boy,” Foggy says, sadly.
Matt takes his hand because it’s slid close enough to capture and he can blame the drugs for it later if he needs to. Foggy squeezes his hand in reassurance before Matt can think twice about it. “I’m sorry.”
“I know you are.”
“But…?”
“What does being sorry mean if nothing ever changes?”
“The law was never going to touch the guys I went after tonight, Foggy. You know that as well as I do.”
Foggy sighs. “Yeah, I know.”
“There’s got to be some recourse for where the law leaves off, I’m just—”
“How are you having this argument with me when you’re on a truckload of painkillers? I saw the nurse give you more…”
“Years of practice,” Matt says, even though it is getting difficult to keep his eyes open. “You and that nurse are in cahoots against me.”
“I need all the help I can get,” Foggy replies, and Matt feels the mattress dip beneath him as Foggy sits down on the edge of it. “She wasn’t supposed to let me stay. No overnight visitation, normally.”
“But she let you anyway, because she thinks you’re cute…”
“What? No, I don’t think—”
“She called you a good boyfriend just now.”
Foggy laughs so hard and so suddenly that it makes him cough. “She meant I’m a good boyfriend to you, Matt,” he says, when he’s caught his breath. “You fucking moron.”
“Why would she think you’re my boyfriend?”
“Emergency contact. Different connotations of the word ‘partner,’ which I have shamelessly exploited before and I have no doubt I will again. The look of blatant horror on my face when I brought you in. Take your pick.”
“Huh.”
“If that bothers you,” Foggy begins hesitantly, like he’s about to apologize, “too fucking bad.”
Matt smiles, but doesn’t open his eyes. “Don’t make me laugh. I did something to my ribs, I think.”
“You think?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re lucky you’re pretty, Murdock.”
“Yeah, I assume that’s the only reason you’ve stuck around this long.”
Matt doesn’t hear what Foggy says to that, but whatever it is, he drifts off to sleep to the sound of his familiar voice, still holding onto his familiar hand.
This game looks so fun!!! I would like to send you two emojis if I'm allowed. (If not just pick the one you want to share more.)
🏡🌌
Thank you!! And yes, you are allowed! I decided to answer both. 😊
🏡 miscommunication roommates era fic
It’s not like he can ask Buck to disappear from the house for the evening while his parents are here.
Well, he could; Buck has offered.
But Eddie doesn’t want Buck to disappear for the evening. For one, Buck has been living here for months now, so it’s just as much his house as Eddie’s, as far as the Diaz boys are concerned.
And for two, well.
It’s a little selfish of him, Eddie thinks, but knowing Buck’ll be there, in the kitchen, at the table, on the couch, always only a few steps away? It makes the anxious ball rolling around in his stomach shrink just a bit. Because even if things start to get too awkward, too tense, too much, it’s okay. Because Buck will be right there, having his back. Like always.
🌌 post jedi survivor fic
Merrin takes Cal’s hand and lays it gently over her abdomen. He inhales sharply.
“Can you sense them?” She asks, voice soft. She brushes her thumb over his knuckles, her palm warm on the back of his hand. Cal swallows down the sudden rush of emotion climbing his throat and closes his eyes, focusing on the tiny flutter of life growing in Merrin’s body. It reminds him of sitting by the fire, the warm green glow from her magic. He manages a choked, “Yeah. Yeah, I can sense them.”
He opens his eyes, looks up at Merrin to find she’s already looking back. There’s a vulnerability in her look, one he doesn’t see often but knows she shows to him more than anyone else. Her eyes tell him a thousand things. She’s afraid. Afraid to bring a child into this galaxy, afraid of the dangers their small family has faced already and will inevitably face in the future. But he can see her joy, too. And her love, for the tiny little spark of life they’re holding in the palms of their hands, and for him, too.
zainab i need you to know you asked me the exact same questions last year LMAO.
10. What work was the quickest to write?
probably one of the whumptober prompt fills. one of the Merlin ones for sure. (this was also my answer last year, hilariously enough. still making my way through the 2022 prompts!)
20. Which work of yours have you reread the most?
this year actually, one of my original ones. The Ferryman's Wife & The Black Fox.
29. Favourite line/passage you wrote this year?
There are some bits in Kind Regards I'm very fond of, but I think I do particularly like how this bit of the P&P spitefic came out:
Mary thought that Lizzy believed she was doing it out of care for them – and perhaps there was an element of truth in that – but by and large Lizzy had her favourite sister and her fast friend and had no need for the younger three sisters except in how much she found them wanting. It was the fact that Mr Bennet had quite written off showing any real interest in his children once Mary was about a year old and it seemed there would be no son coming. Yet the lack of education they received was seen as a shortcoming on their parts instead of their father’s.
One would think Lizzy would be more discerning of that, but Mary was long disillusioned of her older sisters’ interest in the younger of them. Oh, the love was there – Mary had many memories of Jane and Lizzy telling her, and then Kitty and Lydia, such stories and tales, but the older they got, the more the distance grew.
i always try to make @firstelevens a little present in honor of our friendship anniversary, which was yesterday, so here's a few more book cover designs for her amazing sambucky fics that she's been so kind as to write for us all (and one that she co-wrote with me!) with a special appearance by @sambambucky with the pull quote of the century❣️
the bells stand still and hollow [22K words, 5/10 chapters, in progress] - Fantasy AU using the Dungeons & Dragons spells and classes as its guide to imagine Bucky suffering under a terrible curse and Steve, Natasha, and Sam (and animal familiar Redwing!) as the party of adventurers intent on helping him break it. ⚔️🐦🔥
summer came like cinnamon, so sweet [44K words, 5 chapters, complete, part 2 of a series] - part of the illustrious bakeoff AU, this is a prequel fic all about the romantic shenanigans that happened (or almost happened) over the course of Steve and Peggy's wedding weekend. told entirely in tweets, instagram captions, and text messages, of course! 💒💐
Given that you are theeeee premier AU consultant around these parts, I would like to request recs for AU fics that you’ve particularly enjoyed/found inventive or cool!
oooooh baby okay!!
-this good omens AU (that kind of turns into a good omens crossover) for daredevil written by @returnsandreturns is one of my favorite things in the whole world. It’s funny and romantic and sweet and historical and it provides me with lots of gender euphoria and regular euphoria when I first read it and every time I’ve re-read it since! Also, everything Chelsea’s ever written is perfect, she’s the ultimate mattfoggy writer in my opinion!
-I was originally not going to include Canon Divergence AUs on this list because that feels like a whole separate category (not exactly canon, not really an AU, but a secret third thing) but then I remembered this timeloop fic for the terror and I consider a timeloop enough of an AU to satisfy my own arbitrary definitions for this list. Everybody loves a timeloop we know, but this one is so well executed and thoughtful and heartbreaking and satisfying, everyone who wants to write a timeloop fic should take note.
-the terror fandom is quite frankly lousy with genius AUs (shocker) so two others worth mentioning are this series (you will always get me by taking a story set on a boat and putting it in space. Also I love stories about astronauts so this really has everything) and this fic (trading out Victorian naval expedition for an almost modern mountaineering setting works eerily well, and the details and characterizations are spot on along with great art!)
-I’ll read basically anything @ponyregrets decides to write at this point, but her pacific rim AU is what actually made me finally watch TOS, which feels like the best endorsement I can give any fic (and thank you to everyone for your patience as I’ve subsequently made Star Trek into a large part of my personality) I’ve now read this AU a dozen times and it truly hits every single time. It manages to perfectly integrate Pacific Rim canon into the Star Trek universe and it’s so sweet and compelling. Highly recommend!
okay I could go on forever like this because most of the fics I love are AUs in some shape or form tbh (@philtstone ’s camp counselors au for lotr and of course your own dungeons and dragons au and f1 au for the falcon and the winter soldier are also among my faves) but I’m losing steam and More Joy Day is drawing to a close, so I’ll leave it there. Happy reading! ♥️📖
