#no 14

[whumpookies]

Day 14 Title: Feed me poison till I drown

Prompt: flare (flare of pain)

[nearlydark]

I have moved 13 times in my life. It’s too much

[uniasus]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 14

Going back to my roots with this one - have some poetic Merlin angst.

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Merlin knows Camelot isn't the place for him after his first month, when the newness disappears and he settles into a pattern of helping Gaius and serving Arthur.

The stone of the castle makes his body heavy, and he wakes every day remembering the one time he fell asleep in the neighbor's barn and three sheep slept on him. He'd been warm, but the weight had made it hard to breathe, hard to move, and he'd felt trapped half the night.

Every night in Camelot fells the same.

He also finds himself oddly drawn to flowers and plants. Gaius would catch him absently fingering herbs still drying, Gwen shyly sneaks him a flower from Morgana's room on occasion. He craves the greenery in a way he doesn't understand, smelling flowers and sticking his head out of windows to catch the sight of trees. He loves heading to the pitch to watch the knights train because it means he can subtly touch grass and bask in the sun, his magic slowly spreading until it snaps back at Arthur's bark of his name. Merlin always feels bereft then, as if someone had slammed a door into his face.

Because that's exactly what had happened. He'd suddenly cut himself off from the natural environment he grown up in, cooped up and cramped and craving craving craving.

Craving the space to stretch. Free time and free will. Safe spaces.

There's none in Camelot, not even Gaius's chambers. His uncle's paranoia is infectious, Uther's propaganda oppressive. Soon, it's not just Merlin's magic that feels cramped and itchy and wrong. It's Merlin too. He wants out out out.

But at the center of that is a kernel of hope. Kilgarrah's words. They sounded like candy - sweet hope and a solid purpose – and were so easy to swallow. But it wasn’t dissolvable sugar. Those words sit in his stomach and they make him do things – he lies and hides and hurts. Those festering emotions sit in his stomach, and Kilgarrah’s words turn into a hard candy shell around them.

He can swallow the harshness because it’s surrounded by sweet words. He can hurt people, kill people, because it’s necessary for a better, honeyed world. But with each deed he does, each terrible thing that the candy shell expands to cover, to excuse, the pain in his gut grows and grows until it becomes a pearl of poison.

It’s not just Camelot that has Merlin trapped, it’s Merlin himself. Magic restrained. Morals turning brittle and bitter. Even as he saves Arthur week and week, he feels his blood getting more and more toxic. The boy he was is gone, drowned by blood and twisted by hope and crushed by stone-cold reality.

His mother gives him pained smiles. Gaius just calls him ‘my boy’ and offers hugs and advice Merlin takes even as he wishes it is different.

Merlin is drowning in a drought – no free magic, no happy days, no sign of Albion – waves of despair cresting higher and higher over his head while the dragon’s poison both feeds him and makes it hard to stand.

Maybe, maybe, Arthur will notice and swing open the floodgates of equality.

Until then, Merlin swallows his poisonous hope, his dream he’s done such dreadful things for, and wonders what will finally end things – Arthur’s sword or Merlin’s inability to recognize the boy he used to be.

[aziraphalesbookkeeper]

Of course, in the miles and miles of mountains, trees, and bushes, Ellie would find a way to step on a bear trap. Of fucking course.

Whumptober Day 11: Animal Trap AILESS Whumptober Day 14: Bleeding through the bandage

[liquidstar]

i always think abt my cousin in greece who's like obsessed with american culture, bc ill say that im going to a barbecue and she'll be like "wow.... a real life american barbecue... will there be red cups?" you bet your ass there'll be red cups. take my hand. have a hot dog. all your dreams can come true here at the real life american barbecue

[wackom]

Just checking!

[s-aint-elmo]

pass it on!

(ID in alt text)

[nondelphic]

"just write the story you want to read!" they said. well, guess what, now i have 14 unfinished drafts because apparently, i want to read 14 different stories at once.

[heyybeach]

Growing up is actually just enjoying the exact same things you enjoyed at 14 years old, but in a more gay way

[humming-fly]

I love how Gerald was trying to keep Shadow from spoiling anything about the future meanwhile literally everything Shadow says and does around Maria is the biggest death flag ever

[machineryangel]

grabbing every 13 yo girl by the arms and yelling "YOU LOOK FINE !!!!!!! DON'T SPEND UR ALLOWANCE ON CONCEALERS GO SEE A BAD MOVIE INSTEAD !!!!!!!!!!! BEAUTY IS POETRY AND SONGS AND LAUGHTER W FRIENDS AND COLORFUL LEAVES !!!!!!!!!! GO READ A MARY OLIVER POEM AND YOU'LL BE OK!!!!!!!!!"

[wrishwrosh]

one neat bonus of being a picky eater as a child is that adult life is filled with so many beautiful discoveries. have you guys heard about caesar salad? im turning 26 this week

[kiisaes]

teenage rite of passage: bad haircut

[myloveonherknees]

@/hisethelcain. “i'd save you but the world's bent” twitter, 14 nov 2020.