#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

[anmylica]

Chapter 6: Labyrinthine Lies

“The Fields of Asphodel”

Catch Up Here: 01 02 03 04 05

Read on AO3

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Tagging: @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @sotangledupinit @tiganasummertree @zaharadessert

Killian Jones was not a man who accepted defeat easily. He always managed to wriggle his way out of dire circumstances, whether it was escaping the bonds of slavery and servitude, escaping the Dark One’s clutches with only a lost hand to show for it, or managing to get his heart back from said Dark One after nearly having it crushed in a clock tower (not the mention the hundreds of other scrapes he had gotten into and out of over the years). No, Killian Jones managed to get out of trouble, period.

So when he awoke in a cell with no bars, he had to blink to make sure he was seeing correctly and think twice about what this meant.

This seemed way too convenient.

Taking a moment to ponder the decided lack of a door, he mentally cataloged his injuries. His wounds were somewhat scabbed over, though some of them were still bleeding lightly. One of his eyes was swollen shut due to the blow Hades had given him across it, and his ribs hurt with an ache he hadn’t felt since he had had them broken by the car Greg Mendel used to drive into Storybrooke (and, subsequently, him). As he took stock of his injuries, he managed to get into a sitting position, which allowed him to stare at the decided (no, he wasn’t imagining it) lack of bars around what he supposed was his cage?

He pushed himself gingerly to a standing position, trying not to jostle his wounds more than he needed to. He hobbled over to the entry way and stuck his hook through the space, checking to see if there was some sort of an invisible barrier. There was none.

He glanced around in wonderment. Nothing was keeping him here? Hades was just going to let him escape? It seemed too good to be true, but everything suggested that this was real. He was actually going to be able to get out of here.

He put one foot outside his cell, testing to see if he would get away with leaving.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice called out, causing Killian to startle.

“Who’s there?” Killian called out, his voice a little raspy from both the lack of use and the screams of pain he had released during his torture sessions with Hades.

“It’s me,” the voice called timidly back. Killian squinted his eyes, trying to make out who the voice belonged to, but it was hard to see her in the shadows. Finally, he saw a brown haired girl dressed in rags huddled in one corner of an adjacent cell.

“Who are you?” Killian called out.

“My name is Megara, but my friends call me Meg. At least, they would,” she continued, smiling sadly, “if I had any friends. Who are you?”

“Captain Killian Jones, but most people know me better as Captain Hook,” replied Killian.

“A pleasure,” Meg called back.

“Likewise. Now what was that you said just now?” Killian tilted his head as he considered her response., trying not to moan at the effort it was requiring of him to remain standing.

“You can’t leave this place; there’s no use trying.”

Killian looked around confusedly. “But the cells are open?” he asked hesitatingly, failing to see the problem.

Meg nodded. “It’s a trick. He won’t let you leave.”

Killian leaned heavily against the doorway of his cell. “Why are you in here?” he asked, disregarding her certainty that he wouldn’t be able to make his escape for the moment.

Meg shook her hair out of her dirty face. “He’s punishing me for betraying him. I tried to help Hercules stop him from destroying Mount Olympus.”

“Hercules?” Killian echoed.

Meg nodded sadly. “My love. He locked me away here and sent Hercules somewhere else and won’t allow us to reunite. I haven’t seen my love for eons.”

“Eons?” Killian echoed. “How long have you been dead?”

Meg shook her head. “I’ve lost count of the years. Honestly, I’ve lost hope of ever reuniting with him. Hades will never forgive us, so we’ll never have the chance to move on.”

“Why did Hades want to destroy Mount Olympus?” Killian asked. If it had something to do with that woman Hades was so prickly about, then maybe that could be the key to Killian’s escaping this prison.

Meg shrugged. “I don’t know. He never told me in all the years I was in his service.”

Killian nodded once in acknowledgement as he pondered over this. Whatever it was that Hades was seeking revenge over, it must have happened long ago. He wondered if the woman had been a former love of the god, and if something had happened to her much like what had happened to Milah. He shook himself mentally after a moment, determined that whatever it was that motivated Hades, it wasn’t going to stop Killian in his pursuit of escape.

Killian huffed a sigh, and then said to Meg, “Which way is the best way to go? I know,” he added when he saw Meg begin to protest that it wasn’t possible to escape again, “you think it’s not possible. Humor me. What ways have you tried?”

“I’ve tried them all. I’ve tried them until trying seemed pointless.”

Killian clenched his jaw and looked up and down the corridors. “Well, perhaps I’ll have better luck.”

Mega let out a hollow chuckle. “You won’t.”

“We’ll see. I’m quite the survivor.” With that, Killian shoved off the archway and turned to his right, leaving the girl behind. He hobbled as fast as he could, and he found that his body ached a little less now that he was moving. He took note of the flagstone under his feet and the stone walls that rose up to a stone ceiling some ten feet above him. Every few yards torches burned, lighting the path. He felt he vaguely recalled this long corridor from the trips he took to the throne room where Hades liked to torture his unwilling guests.

After several minutes of walking down a straight corridor with no rooms attached, the hall turned to the right. Killian stopped and skulked about, peering around the corner to make sure nothing was there to impede him. Seeing nothing, he turned the corner sharply and stopped.

A Y in the hallway was before him that led to two shut doors. He could have sworn that it wasn’t there just a second ago when he peered around the corner. Nonplussed at how he had missed this vital piece of information from one second to the next, he chose to go through the left door.

He shoved the door open, for it was a little creaky and very much stuck in its tracks, and walked through. He stopped short, amazed at the sight before him. Trying to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, he looked back behind him. The corridor had changed to solid steel floors, steel walls, and a steel ceiling. Industrial lights hung from the ceiling every ten feet, casting illumination only on the spots directly below the bulbs. Killian blinked several times, and he turned to look behind him to make sure that he really wasn’t imagining things, but the corridor behind him had changed as well. Behind him lay what looked like an elementary school building’s hallway.

There was no bloody way that corridor changed like that. He had just come down it! Killian was very confused. He was struck by a second’s worth of indecision before proceeding onward in the direction he had started to go. Surely the hallway changing was just a kind of hallucination, a product of his exposure to the torture Hades had put him through. Shrugging his shoulders, he pushed onward, picking up his pace.

He came to a flight of stairs and bolted down them. When he reached the bottom he stopped dead in his tracks. The corridor in front of him looked like the one on his ship that led from his cabin to the crew quarters. But this is impossible. He’s in the Underworld, not on his ship, so how is he going through one of her hallways? He walked forward slowly, wondering if he should expect someone to burst through one of the doors, but when he got to the end of the corridor, no one had disturbed him.

He gingerly opened the door that, on his ship, had led into the galley, and found himself in Regina’s sitting room in the Evil Queen’s castle. Killian frowned. What was going on? He slowly moved forward, holding his hooked arm aloft in case he encountered anyone from whom he needed to defend himself, but no one showed themselves. He got to the end of the room and found himself in a movie theater, the screen blank as if the movie had just finished. He scanned the area and saw that at the very far end, a green EXIT sign was lit up and flashing, as if to say “This is the way out!” Killian scowled and made his way toward the sign. The aisle seemed to grow longer and longer as he walked, until he finally reached the door. He leaned his right shoulder against it and threw it open bodily.

He was in a mine shaft from Storybrooke. He could see the veins of fairy dust diamonds just waiting to be mined. There was very little light, but thankfully the diamonds reflected it back so he could see in front of him. He walked some ways, before he briefly entered Skull Rock. He growled in annoyance and walked out of the exit, stopping abruptly when he found himself in the center of Echo Cave where Pan had once imprisoned Neal. The land bridge was gone.

Killian let out a frustrated yell. This was the most aggravating escape in which he had ever engaged! He racked his brain for what his darkest secret was, and settled for one that he hated to admit.

“I hope that Emma Swan never moves on, and that when she arrives here, she says that she missed me desperately, that I was the only one for her.” Killian waited with bated breath for the bridge to form.

Nothing happened.

Killian rolled his eyes. Maybe it didn’t count because he had already confronted it in his cell? Thinking hard about what secret he could give next, all he could think of was that this test was stupid.

Killian sighed. “If I could still get my revenge on the Crocodile for putting us all in this situation, and be successful in the endeavor and not have to be the Dark One again, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

Once again, nothing happened.

“Oh, come on!” Killian yelled out of frustration. “How much darker can I get?!”

The silence grew heavier, as if it was saying, Really? That’s the best you’ve got?

Killian clenched his teeth in casternation, but said nothing else, too annoyed to do anything else. As he fell to silence, Panic appeared on a ledge far above him, eager to see what secret the captain would admit to here in this cave. He carried a medium sized crystal jar and wore an evil anticipatory grin on his face. Surely the pirate would lose hope right here in one of the very places he had felt most hopeless in his life?

Killian sighed as he finally came to the secret he knew he would have to utter in order to cross. He glanced upwards, gathering his fortitude, and began.

“A part of me wonders if this is even worth it. If perhaps I shouldn’t do just what Hades wants me to do, and give in to him. Let my love for Emma Swan go. Let my hope and desire to see her again fade away. But I can’t do that. She was the light of my life from the very first moment I laid eyes on her, though I didn’t want to admit it. She was the light that led me home. She is my home. I never loved Milah in this way. If Milah were standing side by side with Emma, I wouldn’t even glance in her direction. She was my first love, but Emma is the love of my life. I could no more give her up than I could give up the love I had for my brother, or my belief that a man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets. So I’m going to continue fighting. And if she’s here in the Underworld now, or whenever she finally does arrive, I know, well I hope,” he amended, carrying on, his voice gaining strength from the conviction he felt as he confessed his innermost thoughts, thoughts he had never voiced to anyone else. “I hope that she’s fighting just as hard for me, wherever she is. So I won’t let go. I won’t do what Hades wants me to do. I won’t give him the satisfaction of breaking me.”

There it was! Panic finally did it! So what if the pirate’s words didn’t sound quite like the confession he was hoping to hear? It was still an admission of hopelessness, and Panic had successfully gathered Hook’s lost hope throughout the captain’s time in this maze. His jar wasn’t as full as he’d hoped, but the essence of hope was steadily rising in the jar. Panic was about to win!

But as he listened to Hook’s confession, his gleeful grin dropped into a look of horror. The jar had ceased to fill at all. Anxious for what this meant, the little imp realized he was going to have to turn up the turmoil to drive Hook to lose even more hope. Hook wasn’t quite as hopeless as Panic had once thought he was.

Killian stared hard at the space in front of him, daring it to deem this secret unworthy. After a moment, the bridge sprung out of the platform he was on. He waited a moment and then sprinted across it, finding new strength to keep moving, keep fighting, no matter how badly his injuries hurt. Once he got to the other side, he found himself in a dark tunnel. He moved forward, determined to get out of this maze. He lost track of time with how long he walked in darkness.

Finally, Killian saw a light at the end of this ridiculous, bloody, damned tunnel. How far had he even traveled through this ridiculous villain’s lair that Hades called home? He could have sworn that the Underworld wasn’t even this big. Frustrated and frazzled beyond reason, he sprinted towards the light, re-opening his various wounds (some of which he had torn back open before this and were still bleeding lightly) and jostled his ribs. Killian idly reflected that he was very tired of rib injuries.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he crossed the last remaining steps quickly. He reached the light and stopped again. He was at a cliff. And the only way down was a spiral staircase made of steel that was welded and bolted to the cliff face. Killian scowled at his misfortune. Cursing everything he could think of under his breath, he began a slow descent, not registering the impish figure that had perched itself on a rock and was watching him with a snicker. About halfway through, he heard Emma’s voice scream his name, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Killian! Killian! Help me please!”

Wait. Emma was here? Emma was actually here? What the devil was she doing here? How did she get to the Underworld? Had something happened to her that resulted in her death? His heart hammered in his chest (which was a strange feeling given that he was dead). He had felt the golden flash of light, had seen it, that golden light so reminiscent of a curse breaking and home and warmth and Emma, but he had believed it was just a hallucination, a figment of his imagination. Could he have been wrong?

“Killian! Please help me!” He heard the call again. He held his breath and waited to see from what direction her cries were coming.

“Killian! I need you!”

Killian forgot about stealth and not giving his position away in his panic and haste at getting to her as quickly as possible. He screamed in return, “Hold on! I’m coming Emma!” He began sprinting down the steps as fast as his injuries would let him. Ignoring the burning in his side, he practically threw himself down the last two flights, panic filling his entire being at the thought of Hades laying a hand on his Swan.

He rushed over a ravine and dived into a Gothic style door, “Where are you?” he cried as loudly as he could.

“I’m over here!” Emma cried and let out a bloodcurdling scream.

“EMMA!” Killian shouted at the top of his voice. “HADES, IF YOU HARM EVEN A HAIR ON HER HEAD, I SWEAR IT WILL BE THE LAST THING YOU EVER DO!”

There was no answer to Killian’s threats, just Emma’s continued screams. Frantic to the point of a desperation he had never before felt, he pushed himself down the Rococo style corridor, not blinking an eye when it changed to a hospital hallway and then to an outdoor portico covered in roses and then back to a school’s hallway. He just followed the sounds of Emma’s screams.

Finally, he reached a space in which three doors were located. Panting heavily, he cried out hoarsely, “Emma!” He waited what felt like ages before he heard a response.

“Killian, quick! This way!”

“Don’t worry! I’ll find you, Emma!” Killian called back.

Making up his mind, he chose the middle door and pushed it open. The corridor looked similar to the one he had traveled down when he left behind Meg and his cell. Satisfied that he wasn’t going the wrong way, he tried to quell his panic. If he was about to reach Hades’ throne room, he didn’t want to give away his position though every instinct he possessed told him to charge in at full throttle.

“Killian, please save me!”

It took a moment before the words penetrated through his panic, but when they did, he hesitated. What had Emma’s words been to him during their misadventure in the past? “No one saves me but me,” she had breathed out as she stared at him in disbelief; she hadn’t believed that he would try to rescue her, that he wouldn't leave her behind. One of the things he could punch Neal in the face for was Neal’s selfish act in leaving her to preserve his own skin, which had destroyed her confidence in her value to others, that she was worth saving, worth never abandoning.

Emma needed to be the saver, not the saved. She would go to extraordinary lengths to avoid needing to be saved, to having to rely on someone else to be there for her; she had turned him into a Dark One solely to buy herself more time to save him. She never cared one bit for what happened to her in the end; she was willing to end her own life to make sure he didn’t lose his. In spite of how crazy it drove him, it was one of the things he loved about her. But there was no chance in Hell that she would beg him to save her. No, she would save herself, whatever the cost, to try and avoid needing others out of a lifelong ingrained habit that the world had taught her she needed. Though he had climbed every last one of Emma Swan’s walls, he knew that there were some habits that would never fully disappear.

Killian’s belief in Emma’s presence (and subsequent danger) in the Underworld shattered upon that realization.

Panic had been fluttering about, watching Killian’s hysteria with gleeful eyes once he caught up to the captain. He had created the illusion in an attempt at breaking Captain Killian Jones’ faith in Emma Swan, at ridding the man of his hope for a reunification with his love. He had snickered as the crystal jar he held in his hands continued to fill with Killian’s lost hope. It wasn’t filling as quickly as Panic would have hoped, but it had started as a slow trickle and was steadily growing; it grew until almost a fourth of the jar was full. Panic watched as Killian called frantically for Emma Swan, running crazily throughout the labyrinthine maze. He was slinking along some distance away when Killian visibly stopped. A confused look crossed Panic’s face. What was the pirate captain doing?

Killian stopped dead in his tracks as he realized he was being tricked. He looked ahead of him at the ending of the corridor. It led to an intersecting hallway that he could see some thirty feet in front of him, and Killian knew that the cries he heard came from that area. He knew he was about to see if he was right.

Killian crept along, listening for any sounds of commotion ahead. He heard whimpers, but he frowned and hardened his heart against the sound. He knew with ever growing certainty that they were not coming from Emma. He reached the end of this hallway and stopped, listening intently to the room beyond. All was silent.

Panic stopped too and watched in horror as the hope began to slowly leech out of the jar, vanishing into the air as seamlessly as water vapor from a kettle. Oh, Hades was not going to be happy about this…

Killian walked cautiously into the next room and stared. He was back in his cell. But that was impossible! He had gone all that way, had crossed so many different hallways and rooms! He couldn’t have traversed all that distance just to end up back in his cell.

“What in the bloody hell is going on here,” Killian breathed out to himself, not believing his eyes. How had he ended up back in his cell? Killian looked around at the six foot by six foot room, trying to puzzle out if this was a trick.

“Ah! He’s finally made it back!” Hades exclaimed joyfully. Killian turned sharply and sneered when he saw the god leaning against the cell’s doorway.

Hades was clad in a black suit similar to the one he had worn when he had met Killian at Hell’s entryway and had a calm and amused look on his face. His hair wasn’t the flaming blue Killian had become accustomed to seeing, but it looked as if it were livened by blue streaks. Hades was angrier than he let on.

“Where am I?” Killian demanded.

Hades shrugged and smirked. “Where you started from. Where I put you to begin with. You just traversed the labyrinth. It works a little different down here; it keeps prisoners in when I don’t want them to escape.”

“Where’s Emma?” Killian demanded.

“Oh,” Hades shook his head slightly. “She’s not here. Mortals can’t cross into this realm. So if I were you, I’d stop hoping to be rescued and turn all of your hope over to me.”

Killian considered Hades’ carefully blank expression. He slowly smirked. “That’s not true, is it?” he asked. Mortals can cross into this realm. That’s what that golden light I saw was for, wasn’t it?” Killian continued, popping his tongue against his teeth to enunciate the ending of the last word.

Hades’ face took on a sinister expression. “Absolutely not.”

Killian chuckled a hard, harsh laugh. “Oh, it was,” he stated confidently. “Emma’s here, and you don’t want her to be.” Killian’s faith and hope returned completely. Hades’ eyes flickered to where Panic stayed sulking in the shadows. Panic’s face was horrified as he watched the remaining essence of hope evaporate, leaving not even a film on the inside of the crystal jar. Hades stared at his minion in disbelief, and Panic stared fearfully back. Panic quickly disappeared when he realized how angry his master was.

Hades’ blood boiled, and his hair erupted into blue flames at last. “Au contraire,” he hissed at Hook, “Emma Swan is the key to everything, and I’m glad she came down here! I’ll wring every last drop of hope from her and you and all your friends. I will get everything I’m owed!”

Killian laughed. “Well, that’s not true. You’re scared she’s going to interrupt your operation. You don’t want her here; you think she’s a liability that you want to break first.”

Hades growled. “I’ll break her after I break you!” Hades waved his hand, and Killian flew across the hallway into a column marking the doorway to Meg’s cell. Meg, who had been watching the exchange in fearful fascination, cringed away from Killian’s impact. Killian grunted as he hit the wall and again when he hit the floor. His ribs felt as if they had cracked in a couple more spots.

Hades grabbed Killian by his hair, causing Killian to cry out. He bent down and unlatched the hook from the brace mechanism holding it to the end of Killian’s arm. Hades brought the sharp tip up to Killian’s throat and slowly dragged it downward. Beads and droplets of blood welled up at the site. Meg lay curled up, cowering away from the scene but unable to look away.

“Find Emma Swan! Tell her Captain Killian Jones is in the dungeons of the Underworld! Tell her to find me! Find Captain Hook!” Killian yelled at Megara as he tried to weakly fight against Hades’ cruelty. “You can do this Megara!” Killian’s pleas for Meg to find the woman who could help them all cut off as Hades dug the hook in deeper.

Hades looked at Meg with a mad, threatening look in his eyes. Meg curled into herself, shrinking back from the rage she knew awaited her if she challenged him. Hades grinned.

“Meg can’t leave this place anymore than you can. The Labyrinth will keep her running in circles if she tries to escape, and of course, there’s what I’ll do to her afterwards. There is no escaping my dungeons.” Hades turned to Killian and drug the hook down his throat, causing the cut the well up with more blood. Killian attempted to get anyway again, but his previous injuries were alight in pain once more in protest at their rough treatment and they made it hard to move. Fresh Waves of pain blossomed from every part of Killian’s body at the rough mistreatment.

Hades smirked. “And there’s more where that came from.” He waved his hand and Killian disappeared, and Hades weighed the hook resting in the palm of his hand. “I think it’s time we sent our Savior a little welcoming present.”

Hades disappeared in the blink of an eye. Meg was left trembling, hyperventilating, and staring at the spot Hades had just vacated. As she calmed, she came to a realization. So Hades wanted them to lose hope? Meg took a deep breath and looked at the entrance to her cell with renewed eyes.

[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

[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.

[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!!!!!!!!!"

[wackom]

Just checking!

[heyybeach]

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

[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

[troyandabedsnewapartment]

(shaking my 14-year-old self) I was so mean to you but I love you, I love you, love you

[nando161mando]