#i had to frantically learn a healing spell and its like yeah this is absolutely just panic work and they think i know what im doing

[vigilskeep]

after 12 years indoors spending your first trip outside in the darkspawn infested korcari wilds like actually maybe towers are for the best

[cdroloisms]

do you have any,,,post prison mute dream stuff??? or like, severely quiet, silent and obedient dream shtuff?? and the consequences thereof??? bc im reading your drabbles and i am in literal awe

aww, thank you so much !! yeah selectively mute dream post prison is absolutely a hc i love and write smtimes - it’s already been suggested in canon, and it’s super fun to play w/ in post-canon works. here’s some fluffy syndicate!dream bc gosh knows we need it after the angst that we’ve been getting 

tw: implied torture, panic attacks, trauma - all v short mentions. this one’s definitely on the lighter side! :D

“I didn’t know you knew sign.”

Dream startles, arms flying to cover his face, and the crow he had been signing at squawks angrily when it turns towards Phil. He ignores its chatter, smoothing his own flinch behind a smile, lowering his wings, bringing his hands, palms up, in front of him at his waist - this song and dance has become all too familiar in the weeks that Dream’s resided with the Syndicate, and Phil is nothing if not patient.

Slowly, the boy uncurls from where he’d huddled into himself, arms clasped firmly around his ribs like someone will try and take them from him if he doesn’t hold on tight enough (and maybe, Phil thinks, imagining the messy lattice of scars underneath Dream’s loose-fitting hoodie that he has only seen a few times since they brought him over, someone has - but those are thoughts that are better left untouched for as long as he can manage it.) Dream’s eyes raise, flick over his face, his breathing quieting down from the discordant rattle it had been, and tentatively, ever slowly, he raises his good hand in a loose fist, letting it bob up and down. Yes.

Phil settles into the armchair across from him, raising his own hands. His fingers feel clumsy, but the memories come back with more ease than he would’ve expected - I know a little. Dream’s eyes don’t quite brighten, but his shoulders fall down from where they’d been hunched up to his ears, the hand he keeps tucked to his chest trembling slightly less, and it’s as much as a win as he’s ever going to get.

The silence stretches, familiar in its awkwardness, and Phil stifles a grimace as he forces long-forgotten memories to the surface. Dream’s hands, from what little he had seen from the doorway, had practically flown as he spoke to the crow still sitting by his right side - obviously practiced even with the still-healing injuries tracing over both arms. How did you learn?

We- He hesitates, left hand trembling violently, before pushing on, we all learned with- he signs a C, then lifts his hands to his head in a sign that Phil vaguely remembers as being the one for deer. Dream must see the questions written in his expression, because his cheeks flush as he backtracks. C-A-L-L-A-H-A-N, he finger spells, and Phil nods. That makes sense.

Some of the crows in the house must have noticed Phil’s arrival, because they storm into the room from the doorway, awkwardly hopping across the door with their wings waving by their sides as they eagerly voice their displeasure at the lack of attention. He’s not in the mood to pick out the words between their angry caws, so he simply watches as they scatter all over the room. Something almost like a smile tugs at Dream’s face as he watches them enter - the kid has grown inexplicably fond of both his flock and all of the assorted animals that Techno drags back into the house whenever he goes out, and Phil has long since resigned himself to being outnumbered one hundred to one by a literal army of mobs wherever he goes. Some of the crows had been pretty wary of Dream at the beginning, but after a few weeks more or less the entire flock has become viciously protective of the kid, sufficiently won over by gifts of head scratches and berries and various shiny things. Sure enough, the birds form a dark, squawking circle at Dream’s feet, a few flying up to tug impatiently at his clothes, and despite the (very obvious) favoritism, Phil smiles; the flock is good for Dream, as annoying as they can be.

DADZA, one calls, its lone cry soon echoed by the entire group of fluttering feathers gathered on the floor, DADZA AND DREAM DADZA DADZA. Phil laughs, a familiar warmth and exasperation filling his lungs, and he turns his attention back to Dream.

You up to some more? He tries; it’s a chance, for sure, and he brushes away the creeping anxiety crawling up his neck; he doesn’t want to make Dream panic, hopes that he’s doing the right thing. I could always use the practice.

Quiet, once again, only broken by the murmurs of his birds eagerly awaiting Dream’s answer as the boy rocks side to side in deliberation, and Phil is halfway through working out a frantic you don’t have to if you don’t want to when Dream raises his own hands.

Sure, he signs, a forced smile on his face but eyes still clear and bright, why not?

Somehow, they end up in a bastardized version of twenty questions, surrounded by birds that do not hesitate at any chance to voice their own opinions. They work through favorite colors (green), favorite flowers (roses for Dream, peonies for Phil), favorite mob (Phil answers this with a pointed definitely-not-crows, staring at the flock who have been shouting over themselves naming different colors for about five minutes, which immediately makes them devolve into screaming caws and divebombs at the edges of Phil’s cape that leave him thoroughly occupied for the next ten minutes), and at some point Phil falls further into the cushions of his chair and Dream’s legs lay against the sofa instead of being drawn up to his chest and it’s almost normal.

By the time Techno finds them, they’ve forgone structure all together, Dream watching intently as Phil signs out an embellished tale of one of the Antarctic Empire’s exploits with a crow held gently in his hands. Techno’s voice behind him startles him bad enough to send his wings snapping outwards, feathers standing on end, but Dream doesn’t react much beyond a twitch of his lips - he must’ve seen the piglin hybrid and tag-teamed to prank him, Phil realizes with a half-hearted grumble. Techno’s eyes sparkle mischievously, definitely planned, then.

“Hi Phil, Dream,” Techno shrugs off his cloak and drapes it over the back of Phil’s chair, “Looks like you’ve been busy. Can’t say I’m not feelin’ a bit left out, though; Phil, you never told me you knew sign language.”

“You never asked, mate,” he quips, even as Dream signs animatedly from the corner of his eye. T-E-C-H-N-O-L-O-S-T.

Techno narrows his eyes. “I get the feelin’ that you’re messin’ with me, nerd.” Dream blinks faux innocently, smiling wider, and Phil picks up on the bit. Oh, this is fun.

He can’t understand us, he assures Dream, feeling a wicked smirk of his own growing on his face. So what do you think for dinner?

“Phil- the betrayal!” Techno splutters, voice going high and pitchy, and that reaction alone would’ve made the prank more than worth it - but Dream’s shoulders shake, eyes glittering as his fingers fly almost too fast for Phil to catch, and oh, that’s laughter, tiny, breathless giggles falling from his lips, and Techno must catch it even as he begins to berate the voices in his head, “This is not a bruh moment, Chat, don’t you start-”

Stew? Dream signs, still snickering, and he looks happy, more than Phil has ever seen him, the sight of him smiling and bright-eyed with amusement almost enough to cover for the gaunt quality of his face, the pale scars left all over his skin.

Of course, mate, Phil signs back, throwing in a do you think T-E-C-H-N-O ended up lost in those same woods again for good measure, rewarded when it sends Dream into another round of giggles. Techno grumbles without any real heat behind it, plopping himself down in the remaining chair.

“Ok, nah, no more of this exclusive club; you guys are teachin’ me this tonight before Chat loses it - yes that was an insult, don’t you start it with the E’s,” and Phil laughs, hard, the flock cawing and beginning to spam E on their own, for some reason, and Dream signing through the alphabet with the biggest grin on his face, and-

“Oh, Prime, this is going to so scuffed,” Phil says, breathless, his warning unheeded as Techno finishes his rant at Chat to focus on Dream.

And it is scuffed - it is so fucking scuffed, between Phil’s lackluster memory and Techno’s frequent interrupting to quiet down an extremely rowdy Chat and the incessant calls of the flock further egging them on, but it’s warm and Dream doesn’t stop smiling and Techno looks more relaxed than he has in weeks and the helpless, singing urge of protect protect protect that has lived in Phil’s head ever since Techno had carried Dream, beaten and bloodied and broken, through their front door finally, finally, begins to quiet down.

He tunes back into the impromptu lesson - they’ve finished the alphabet, seemingly having moved onto common words and objects, and Dream- hesitates, raises his hand, all five fingers drawn together, to the corner of his mouth and then pulls it back. Home, he signs, moving to fingerspelling, H-O-M-E. Home.

For a moment, they’re all quiet, Dream’s hand still raised by his face, even the crows falling silent as they all stare at each other. Phil watches, breath caught in his throat, as the planes of Techno’s face soften, the teasing edge of his voice, for once, leaving. “Yeah, nerd. You’re home.”

Home, Dream signs again, then again, looking up, eyes bright, hopeful. Phil thinks, proudly, that it looks like a new beginning. I’m home.

[dropssofjupitter]

Of Pride and Promises - P. 2

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader 

Summary: It has been a mere three weeks since your breakup with Draco Malfoy. Though your feelings haven’t changed, circumstances have. 

Word Count: 2.1 k 

Warnings: Angst-ish(?), swearing, sectumsempra, fist-fights, blood (minor?), aftermath of a breakup 

Requested? - Yes

Masterlist          Part One

A/N: For the lovely nonnie that requested it! I hope you like it! (I’m not exactly happy with it but hey, something is something!) [This work has not been beta read. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone] 

Edit:  I would also like to announce that I am looking for one, possibly two, beta readers! If you are interested please let me know!

Loving Draco Malfoy was like wading through quicksand. The more you resisted, the stronger the pull. Until eventually, you were pulled under. 

That’s what it had been like for you. That’s what it had felt like. You were suffocated and sedated until you couldn’t think straight, until you couldn’t see straight. Your hands were no longer your own, your magic was merely an extension of his. Everything that you owned, was his to use. 

Until you broke free. And then suddenly you could breathe. You felt lighter, you felt happier. You felt like you were more. But every time you saw him in the halls, every time you passed him in the Great hall, every time you so much as glanced in his direction, an intense wave of hurt and pain swept through you. 

And Draco only seemed to be getting worse. Dark circles clung to his eyes like forgotten friends, his cheeks had sunken in, and his skin was a brand new shade of waxy white. He looked sickly, often reminding you of the Victorian children that haunted the paintings in the Slytherin common room. You were no fool. You knew that although the breakup may have been hard on him, it was nowhere near the severity of whatever threatened him now. 

“Merlin, is that Katie Bell?” Pansy whispered to you, her chin propped up on her hands as she shamelessly stared at the girl who had just entered the Great Hall. “She looks like shite,” she said with a laugh, dragging her gaze back towards you. 

“Yeah Pans,” you replied, stabbing your fork into one of the many potatoes that lay on your plate. “Being cursed will do that to you.” 

The girl groaned, paying no mind to your snarky comment as she sat back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest. “And there goes Saint Potter, probably trying to be first in line to the pity parade and get all the sympathy points.” 

You sighed and rolled your eyes, chancing a look over your shoulder at the scene unraveling in the middle of the Hall. You had to hand it to Pansy, she had nailed Katie’s description perfectly. The girl looked almost as haggard as Draco did. 

You watched uninterested as Harry no doubt grilled the poor girl about the happenings of her curse, your hand perched under your chin. You were about to turn back to your food and to Pansy, who had not stopped talking to you apparently, when your eyes caught on Draco’s form. 

He seemed frozen in place at the entrance to the Hall, unmoving as he looked at Harry and Katie in what appeared to be mute horror. He locked eyes with Potter and turned around, quickly making his way out of the Hall and down an unknown corridor. Harry soon followed him, and it was pure instinct that drove you to stand up from the table and follow after the two boys, much to Pansy’s dismay. Something else was happening here, and whether it had to do with Draco’s distance before your break up or not, you were going to find out just what the hell it was. 

Chasing after Harry, you frantically tried to match his pace, running into students and Professors alike as you turned corners and skidded down hallways. It was a miracle that you hadn’t run into a wall yet, truly. You watched as he disappeared from view, ducking into the usually haunted girls bathroom. With a frown etched into your face and nary a thought to the consequences, you followed him. 

Curses being flung across the bathroom at lightning speed met you on the other side of the door, and you had to duck almost immediately to avoid being hit. You lay flat on the ground, mumbling things like “What the bloody hell could have set them off in three minutes?!” as you fumbled for your wand with one hand and protected your head from shattered stalls with the other. 

You crawled forward as soon as your wand was in your grasp, dragging yourself through the wrecked toilet stalls and avoiding most of the spells being hurled across the room as you prepared yourself to intervene. You moved into a crouch, murmuring a quick shielding charm before walking through the door half torn off its hinges and into the middle of their duel. 

“Wands down -” You were barely able to get a sentence out before you had to dodge a curse sent by Potter himself, drawing your arms into your body as you heard him yell “Sectumsempra!”

Draco was flung across the room, his body hitting the floor with a dull thud. Both you and Harry looked over at him, pausing your actions as you realized that he wasn’t moving. “Draco?” you called out anxiously, taking a step closer to him. That was when you saw the blood blooming on his shirt and bleeding into the water. “Merlin,” you muttered to yourself, wasting no time in rushing over to his body, hands shaking as you tried to remember the proper healing spells. 

“What the hell did you do to him, Potter?!” you yelled, looking over at Harry quickly before looking back at Draco. Dozens of cuts had opened up on his body, continuously bleeding and showing absolutely no signs of stopping. “Shit shit shit shit.” You hated to admit it but you still loved him. You still loved how it had been when you were with him. And you were so, so scared that you would lose him like this. So suddenly. 

As if he could hear your thoughts, Professor Snape appeared out of nowhere, quickly rushing to Draco’s side and sending a long, slow look at Harry. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you said, rushed as you stared down at Draco. “They won’t stop bleeding. He won’t wake up.” The professor placed a seemingly comforting hand on your shoulder before wordlessly beginning to move his wand over Draco’s body, murmuring a spell underneath his breath so quietly that you couldn’t catch what he was saying. You didn’t care. The blood that had previously been pouring out of Draco’s body was returning to it, and the wounds were sealing. 

Footsteps sounded behind you, and you realized that Harry was running away. You shouldn’t chase after him. Not when you were no longer with Draco. And certainly not with a Professor standing right next to you. But all rational thought had left your mind, and all you could think about was making Harry pay. So you stood, and you ran. 

If you thought that Harry was fast before, he was even quicker now, running as if he knew he was being pursued. And maybe he did. But that just made it more satisfying for you as you ran him down, slowly but surely beginning to catch up with him until you hit him with a stunning hex and sent him careening to the ground. 

“What the fuck was that Potter! What, do you preach the absence of curses until it’s convenient for you like a fucking hypocrite?”

Students and staff alike were turning to watch the exchange, gathering nearer as they sensed a fight. It was likely that you didn’t have much time before you were stopped so you decided to make it count. The stinging hex was wearing off by now, you knew it would be. So you kicked his wand away before pocketing yours. If they wanted a fight they would get one. 

Harry turned to look at you, quickly standing up and getting to his feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The way he turned up his nose and squared his shoulders told you that he was trying to appear confident. The sweat on his brow and the shiftiness of his eyes also told you that he was epically failing. 

��Is that really how you want to play this Potter?” you asked, danger creeping into your voice as you squared off with the boy wonder. 

“Well it’s how your boyfriend wanted to play when he threw a hex at me,” he retorted, taking a step closer to you in a challenge. 

You barely had time to think before you were punching the Chosen One. Punching him poorly, might you add. You were pretty sure that you heard a faint crack from your thumb. But the blood that had begun to spurt from his nose made your minor injury all worth it. 

Harry cried out, falling back and to the floor as he immediately held one hand up to his nose. He looked at you in surprise, and it only took a few short seconds before a teacher was calling out your name and dragging you up towards Dumbledore’s office. 

You passed Snape on the way up, making eye contact as you noted the unconscious Draco in his arms. You nodded once, more towards yourself than towards him, before turning your gaze back to the professor currently lecturing you on the do’s and don'ts of fights at school. You tuned them out and every interaction after. 

~~~~~~~

You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity that the tables had been turned on you. Yet again. Instead of you waiting in the dark to confront Draco, he had waited for you. You had known he was there as soon as you had closed the portrait, your eyes catching on his barely illuminated form as he sat in front of the fireplace. 

“I suppose I should ask you why you aren’t asleep yet.” You threw his words back in his face as you walked over to the couches, deciding to not even try and avoid him. Your arms were crossed protectively in front of your chest, a poor attempt to try and prevent what was probably about to come. 

Draco raised his hands under his chin, propping it up in a habit that he had learned from you long ago. “Why were you there,” he asked slowly, still not turning his head to look at you. It annoyed you, but you would let him have this for now. 

“I was tired of being lied to.” It was the truth, and that was more than he deserved. 

He clenched his jaw and turned to face you, his eyes narrowed. “You could have died. Didn’t you stop to think about that at all?” 

You sat down in the arm chair to his left, arms and now legs crossed in defiance. “I didn’t think that I would be barging in on a duel. It’s not my fault that you and Potter couldn’t keep it in your pants.” 

“This isn’t a joke!” His voice echoed across the common room and you froze. His gaze was level with yours, eyes glaring at you and hands clenched into fists. “You could have died!” 

“You could have too!” 

“That’s different!” 

“How? How is it different Draco.” At some point you had stood up again, a finger pointed in his face in your anger. The sheer familiarity of the situation was hitting. The two of you had been in these kinds of arguments many times before. “See this self-sacrificing bullshit is why we broke up. Because you couldn’t realize that your life was worth just as much as mine!” 

“No, we broke up because you got scared,” he retorted, standing up and matching your stance. “You got scared that I was actually being self-sufficient for once and you couldn’t handle not being in control!” 

You knew he was deflecting. You knew that the two of you were both lashing out, emotions high from the day that you had, but still you recoiled slightly. “Is that really what you think?” 

He just stared at you, stubborn ignorance formed in every fraction of his being. 

You swallowed thickly, straightening your clothes and taking a step back from him. “Alright then. Gad we cleared that up.” You turned around and took but two steps before you moved to face him again. “And for the record? I was scared. But I was scared that you were recklessly risking your own life because you couldn’t handle even the slightest threat to mine. Not because I wasn’t in control.” You paused, clenching your jaw as you searched his face for any type of reaction. There was none. “I guess today just proved that breaking up had been the right thing to do. Goodnight Malfoy.” 

You didn’t stop walking until you made it to your room with the door closed securely behind you. Letting out a breath, you allowed your body to sag against the door. You weren’t even sure if you could call that conversation closure. It felt more like another couples spat if you were honest, but you had meant your words. 

From now on, you didn’t care what Draco did. You didn’t care if he was sneaking around at odd hours of the night, or looking positively zombie-like. He wasn’t your problem anymore, so you were going to stop making him one. You were done with him. For good. 

.

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[asterekmess]

honestly, my fury at the lack of werewolf culture/history/worldbuilding is worthy of its own post. Let me know if by some ungodly chance, you actually wanna hear my thoughts on it // Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

ohmygod yes, pls, enable me.

SO.

I think I mentioned b4 that Teen Wolf hates werewolves.

This is a show about werewolves like, yeah, sure, they do other plots and stuff. But the main character is a werewolf. The vast majority of the cast are werewolves (at least in the first half of the show). But think about it. What do we actually know about werewolves? They uhh, they shift on the full moon. But like, what about the full moon? Cus’ Scott gets handcuffed to a radiator and he doesn’t shift and break out until the moon comes out from behind the clouds and he screams like it’s excruciatingly painful for him. But then Derek and his Betas are underground during their full moon, and they shift like it’s all fine and dandy (they’re furious, but there’s no pain) and it doesn’t matter whether they can see the moon or not. They, uhh, they’re allergic to wolfsbane/it’s poisonous to them (btw it’s poisonous to literally everyone, just the scent of it is enough to cause seizures and hallucinations in humans. It’s a whole other frustration that they won’t make up their fucking minds abt it. It’s one thing to say that this is some parallel universe where wolfsbane doesn’t poison humans (bc lydia makes them hallucinate with the punch but injesting that much wolfsbane should kill you, and Stiles straight pulls a plant out of the ground; should’ve caused itching, burning, a cough, nausea, fever, headache and More hallucinations) and yet Jackson has to see a doctor and gets told he’s got Aconite Poisoning. So WHAT IS THE TRUTH?) but apparently not enough for Derek not to be able to plant a wolfsbane plant and massive cord of roots (which he would’ve had to tie together himself) in a revenge spiral around Laura’s body. But just being around it causes wolves to lose control. But also there’s supposed to be different strains that do different things? And also sometimes you burn the wolfsbane and it becomes the cure, or you have to burn it out of them or you just cut it out of them? Make UP Your MIND or at least ACKNOWLEDGE that different strains do different things. They get stronger on a full moon. But does that mean they get infinitely stronger with every full moon they experience? Does that mean they get weaker during new moons? They’re stronger in packs. Okay, but they never establish what the fuck a pack is. Is it an agreement? Is it a magical bond? Scott just sort of says people are in his pack. Does that mean they are? Do the humans he knows make him stronger? Just how strong is this bond? Derek makes a claim that “You have your own pack now” so is that a joke, was he mocking scott? Or is he saying that there’s no need for an Alpha and just being a beta with some friends counts as a pack? Apparently they have some kind of...animal magnetism or mind control? Derek uses a funny voice and a guy wakes up from a near coma to look at him with seemingly no control. Peter can force Scott to shift up. Derek forces Isaac to shift down. Derek has an insane amount of control over dogs and makes one lose its fucking mind from like a hundred feet away? Scott makes one calm down, but derek sends attack dogs running with their tails between their legs. Is it actual control or is it just a persuasion? Is it just intimidation? I haven’t even gotten to culture. You’re telling me that we get an entire episode of Allison discovering the entire story behind the Argent clan’s origins as werewolf hunters, why they started, how her name means Silver and apparently that’s where the entire myth of silver hurting werewolves comes from, but we don’t get to know anything about the first werewolves? Where they come from? If they’re a form of evolution or just straight magic or if it’s a curse or a gift from the gods? There’s an entire hidden werewolf population with packs all over the world, but somehow there’s literally no wolf culture? No moon worship? No specific terminology (Alpha, Beta, and Omega are terms used by a really fucking stupid biologist who studied frantic wolves in captivity and cast aspersions on the entire species. He’s been disproven a Thousand Times. NONE of that Alpha, Beta, Omega shit is right. Packs aren’t Hierarchies of Dominance. They’re families. They’re led by two wolves, yes, an “alpha pair” that’s literally JUST THE PARENTS. THE ‘BETAS’ ARE THEIR KIDS. This terminology makes sense if used by HUNTERS who consider werewolves to be mindless dumb animals. WHY THE FUCK would werewolves use it to DESCRIBE THEMSELVES?) besides the absolute minimum of ‘I caught a scent?’ Are you serious? Then there’s werewolf ages. Oh my god that was so fucking lazy. Saying that werewolves don’t age like humans, but that Cora is seventeen “by human standards” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? I’ve seen theories that go so many different ways. The idea that Werewolves live really long lives because of the superhealing. The idea that they live really short lives because their healing just burns through their body really quickly. The idea that their lifespan is directly correlated to the amount of damage they take because they can only heal so much, so wolves who get hurt a lot age faster than wolves who don’t. There’s NO explanation! You’d think it might be an interesting point for Scott to find out that he’s gonna live to fucking 200 years old. (How old is Satomi again?) That sounds like something a Teenager would be daunted by. We see them make fun of Stiles a few times because he believes werewolf myths about silver, and then because he believes Peter when Peter tells him he lives in a series of underground caves. But like...why not? THESE ARE WEREWOLVES why did you just make them humans with extra facial hair? Where are the traditional mating rituals (or even the concept of a mate/life partner, can you imagine how interesting that would’ve been? If Scott found out Allison was his mate? Or if he suddenly had all these weird urges around her, like rubbing their foreheads together or cuddling her way too much or wanting to bring her food? That would’ve been fascinating and hilarious as subplots for their romance!) where are the full moon runs or pack get-togethers? Where are the aversions to perfumes or cologne? Where are literally any animal behaviors besides AGGRESSION? Where is the den-making? Can werewolves eat fast food or does the grease bug them? Talia was a famous Alpha bc she could full shift. Does anyone know why she could do that? “Evolution” is a bullshit answer, let’s be real. It’s shitty writing and it put Derek through so much more than he deserved. THEY ACCIDENTALLY ESTABLISHED that ALL HALES can full-shift! IT’s NOT EVOLUTION. It’s BIRTHRIGHT. Talia fullshifted. Peter full-shifted (though his was distorted into the monster thingy. That wasn’t anything like Deucalion’s shift. It was a FULL SHIFT) Laura could full shift bc she did it after she died. No other werewolves on the show turned into full wolves after death, even if they died with wolfsbane in their system? MALIA could full-shift into a coyote. LITERALLY EVERY HALE except Cora and that’s bc she got booted back to South America COuld FULL SHIFT (and it never happened after they lost all of their wolf powers, that coud’ve been an interesting plot if they didn’t FUCK IT UP.) But still there’s no explanation, or even just acknowledgement? You don’t have to spell it out for us, but at least SAY “Hey, so the Hale family is really powerful and all of us can full-shift. Not sure why, but it’s neat.) I’m still stuck on rituals. Routines. Werewolf mores. Social cues. Are there certain smells they’re supposed to ignore? Is it polite to pretend you don’t hear someone coming up to your house until they knock? Do they have rules about waiting until the Alpha eats before they start eating (much like how lots of traditional households wait for the father to dig in, or whoever is head of household)? Is it tradition to homeschool werewolves for the first few years until they learn control? Are there seriously no rules about biting humans? You don’t have to talk to their parents or have a specific conversation with them? And if werewolves are so dominance/hierarchy based, then you’re telling me there’s no “second-in-command” or respectful greetings that are supposed to be used for an Alpha? There’s absolutely no form of werewolf government or ancient laws or anything except a big spiral that is universally recognized as a sign you’re gonna kill people? What was the wolfsbane around Laura’s body for? Why make the spiral out of that instead of just drawing in the dirt or something? We make a lot of jokes about Derek being bad with his words, but so is Peter and so is Cora. And they’re the only born wolves we interact with (except Satomi who ALSO isn’t a chatterbox) What if that’s not just because they’re all traumatized and cranky? What if they’re just speaking on a different level? Scents and body language are integral to wolf interaction. Like how we say that Peter has that conversation with Derek’s eyebrows? What if Derek’s so fucking pissed all the time because he hates talking to Scott because SCott ISN”T LISTENING to his body language and scent and chemosignals? He tells Scott to use all his senses, and Scott does it fucking once to say that Peter felt “Angry” and never again. What if Derek is Talking PLENTY (with his body and movements and reactions) but Scott just isn’t paying attention? Isaac seems to understand Derek just fine. Erica and Boyd never complain that Derek is lying to them or ‘keeping something’ from them? What if the reason Scott always thinks Derek’s hiding something is because he isn’t reading the rest of Derek’s conversation and he assumes that the empty feeling is Derek lying. Even STILES seems to understand Derek. He’s human, but he goes totally wolfy. He already uses body language a lot and while he gets mad at Derek he never has to ask what the fuck derek is saying or what he’s holding back. I digress. I wanna know why no other packs came to help Derek and Laura after their family died. I wanna know why Emissaries and Druids are so incredibly important to the supernatural/werewolf world but Derek barely knew they existed (Especially when it’s established that he know tons of lore about other species.) and even though every single pack should have an emissary, they never handle who is the emissary for Derek’s pack or for Scott’s pack (Once again, is an emissary bound to their pack somehow or is it just an agreement?). I wanna know why Derek knew Satomi and trusted her but for some reason never felt like he could ask her for help? Centuries of hiding and living amongst humans with almost no wolf behavior to their name, but none of these packs interact? There’s Druid Vets and Hunter cops and Emissary counselors. But no werewolf doctors? No werewolf teachers? Absolutely no werewolf society? If Derek was worried about Paige not accepting that he was a werewolf unless she became one, what does that say about his experience with humans? He says “there were people in my family that were perfectly ordinary in that house” who died in the fire. But wouldn’t he talk to a human pack member about his worries, if he had one? Or even a bitten pack member? He admits he doesn’t know how to train a Bitten wolf. He’s never been called out by a human pack member for using phrases like ‘caught a scent’ or for reacting to things he shouldn’t. Does this mean Derek’s family was entirely werewolves? No humans in the know? No bitten wolves? He has a huge thing about keeping the secret and never letting anyone in on it unless they get dragged into it. Did Derek’s pack have some kind of prejudice against humans? Was Derek raised to believe humans were weak or cowardly or something, that he thought this beautiful girl would automatically hate him and expose him if she were to discover the supernatural without being forced into silence by self-preservation.

Lots of times, it’s easy to forget in this fandom that so much is missing, because we’ve been filling in the gaps for so long that some stuff is practically canon. It’s generally assumed that the Hales were homeschooled before high school. It’s generally assumed that there’s some kind of bond that marks people as pack. We instinctively add in mentions of Scent and the use of the shift (growling, claws, a hint of fang, flashing eyes) as part of the casual communication between characters. We add in scent-marking and territory boundaries and specific roles in the pack. We do all of that and never think twice because it’s already in all the fic. But we did that. The show gave us nothing. It spent an entire season talking about the nogitsune and the oni and how they’re summoned and what kitsune fox tails are for, but we never got to find out why wolves can do the pain-drain (or even if it dissipates the pain or just transfers it to the wolf doing the draining) or if Derek Hale EVEN HAS A DAD.

[violet-knox]

Spectrumsempra

Year 5 - Chapter 22

Summary: On your way to the library to study with Severus, you run into some trouble with a few student’s who decide to have a bit of fun tormenting you. 

Word count: 2368

Warnings: Blood, near death experience

Previous Chapter - Chapter 1

~

Caroline had held you back after practice again, wanting to talk strategy with you as you had won your last game against Ravenclaw, but were still so behind. Hufflepuff had crushed Slytherin, leaving them well ahead in the race to the Quidditch cup and although you were glad that Caroline had such faith in you to ask for your advice, you couldn’t help but wish she would ease off a little. Quidditch was now taking up the majority of your time and Caroline’s obsession with making a comeback was getting out of hand. 

Your O.W.Ls were only a few months away now and you had fallen so far behind in your studies, you’d begun to feel immensely worried about how you can possibly get a high enough score in all your subjects to continue studying them next year.  

After leaving Caroline, you began to make your way to meet Severus at the library. Though you knew he’d been doing most of his studying during your Quidditch practices, you’d still begged him to help you catch up. His notes had always provided you with such pristine knowledge, they were more useful than any textbook in the library, so you figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask the master of insight to study with you. He, surprisingly, had accepted your request without resistance and told you to plan out a schedule to follow so you’d tackle a subject after practice each day.

Deciding to take a short cut, you snuck into a deserted hallway knowing that there was a door at the end that lead you near the entrance of the library. As you turned into the corridor, you heard a rough banging sound coming from the door to your left. At first you thought it was Peeves, which in that case, you’d have run down the corridor as the poltergeist had always opted to mess with any living creature over inanimate objects. But as you heard giggling muffled through the cracks of the thick wooden door, you paused, wondering if you should enter to see what was going on. 

You didn’t have to think very long as the door swung open and you suddenly found yourself surrounded by none other than Avery, Mulciber and Burlow. 

“Look. What we have. Here,” Avery pressed on every other word, boasting the menacing expression he wore as he walked around you.

You froze in place, heart pumping feverishly against your chest as you felt a rise of panic rumble through your body. Trying to keep an eye on all three Slytherin’s you frantically searched their faces, finding nothing but mischief and clear need to cause harm. You weren’t blind, nor were you ignorant. You knew what was on their mind and it only caused you to feel all the more threatened as you noticed your breaths becoming increasingly short and swift. Doing the first thing that came to mind, you pulled out your wand, intending to hex them and run as quickly as you could. 

“Expelliarmus!” shouted Burlow and your wand flew out of your hand and into hers. She smirked as she watched the startled look on your face turn to fear. 

“Isn’t this the chaser that humiliated you last year in the library, Liza” Mulciber spoke to Burlow as if he was talking about a mere pest on the ground. I have a name, you thought.  

“Yeah it is,” she looked at you with a twisted look in her eye. “What do you say about some pay back,” she pointed her wand to your throat as she stepped towards you. 

“Please,” you whispered before taking a step back, keeping your eyes on her wand. Last year, you’d had the upper hand. Last year, you were the one to sneak up on her, you had the control, you had your wand. This time was different. The roles were reversed, and you were the helpless one, wandless, at her mercy.  

“HA! Please,” Burlow mimicked your tone as she slowly made her way towards you, her smile stretching from one ear to the other. The fact that she seemed too pleased at this situation was all the more nerve racking. What did she have planned for you? What was on her mind? How were you to defend yourself?

“Hey, this is a great opportunity to try that spell Snape came up with,” Avery’s words had caused Burlow to stop in her tracks and you felt your heart skip a beat at the mention of Severus’ name. What spell? You watched the wheels in Burlow’s head spin, her smirk growing wider. Surely Severus would have shared any spell he’d created with you, but none of the ones he’d told you about popped out as threatening. Langlock perhaps? Or… Levicorpus?

“SPECTRUMSEMPRA!” shouted Burlow and the next thing you felt terrified you beyond belief as a deep gash appeared on your left arm. Clutching your wound, you fell to the floor in agony, moaning in pain. The three Slytherins began laughing and you couldn’t believe what had just happened. This wasn’t real. It can’t be.

“Let me try!” spoke Mulciber before he too took out his wand and cast the same spell, causing another deep cut to appear on your cheek. No, how could Severus invent such a spell. This wasn’t real! This can’t be happening!

“Aim for the limbs,” said Burlow, “That way, she won’t be able to play in next week’s game.”

“Brilliant,” said Avery before he pointed his wand at you. Tears were now streaming down your face and another cut dug deep into your right thigh.

“Please,” you begged, “Stop.” You gasped for air, trying to focus on light down the corridor, anything but the pain.

“No I don’t think so (Y/L/N),” said Burlow, “See, not only did you manage to steal the house cup from us last year, but you embarrassed me in front of my friends when I went to confront Snape in the library. Bit poetic don’t you think? Using his own spell against the girl who so desperately wanted to defend him.” The tone she used one the word ‘desperately’ alarmed you. Did she think you were some lost puppy seeking for Severus’ attention?

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, frantically trying to get away from your attackers. “Please.”

“Spectrumsempra!” yelled Burlow once more. 

“Expelliarmus!” you winced as a new cut appeared across your right arm, but even through the tears, you could see the blur you only assumed was Burlow’s wand, accompanied by your own, fly into your savior's hand. The figure stepped forward and all you could see were the cloaks of the person bellowing behind them as they rushed forward. Their face came into focus as you blinked, causing thick tears to stream down your face and you realized it was none other than Severus Snape himself who’d heard the commotion and ran to your rescue. 

“Snape!” shouted Avery.

“Leave!” he exclaimed, “Get out of here now!”

Burlow stepped forward with the intention of retrieving her wand, but Severus stopped her, telling her she’d get it back when he saw her in the common room later that night. 

You looked down and examined your fresh wound as they all hurried away, disappearing down the hidden hallway. 

“(Y/N), are you okay?” Severus had turned to you, kneeling beside you as he gazed at your injuries, unable to venture how his own spell had caused you this much harm. A pool of blood surrounded you almost entirely, and your wounds continued adding to the thick red liquid on the floor.

“No!” you shouted at him, waving his hand away from you as tears continued to fall down your face. You felt appealed, you couldn’t even stand the sight of him, not after what you’d just learned. “They said you came up with this spell Severus! Is that true?” your voice cracked between words as you sobbed, more so from the betrayal you felt than the physical pain. You thought you knew him, you thought you were close enough to know if he’d so something so reckless as to not only perform but to actually dabble so far into the Dark Arts that he’d come up with such a horrendous spell. Clearly, you were wrong.

“I-(Y/N), I never intended for it be used like this. On you,” he desperately tried to explain himself as he saw the hurt in your eyes. He couldn’t lose another friend like this. Not after drifting so far from Lily.

“This is Dark Magic Severus! How could you!”

Severus wasn’t sure any explanation would ease your mind right now. The amount of pain you must be in, he could only imagine what it felt like. And it was all due to a spell he’d created. A spell he’d dared to share with the people he thought were his friends. There was no denying it. This was his fault, and he knew that.

As you closed your eyes, you realized just how much blood you’d lost as you began to feel faint. “I-I think you need to take me to Madam Pomfrey,” you said quietly.

“I don’t know how much she will be able to help,” Severus pointed his wand and began chanting a charm you didn’t recognize. “Ah! I still haven’t perfected the counter charm yet,” he said in frustration. 

“Let me get this straight,” you said calmly as your head fell back against the wall in absolute defeat, “You went around, sharing a spell using Dark Magic, to harm people, that you created, and you haven’t finished its counter charm?”

“I’m close! I know I am,” you could hear the panic in his voice as he concentrated on your open wounds. “See, look!”

Peering down, you watched as the gash on your right arm decreasing in size, but not fully closing. Severus had managed to get the bleeding to stop, but it was clear that if these open wounds didn’t heal quickly, you would eventually bleed to death. 

“Okay,” you said shaking your head as you decided to put off this conversation for later. “How did you come up with the spell that did this?”

Severus went on to tell you his process and what he has tried to counter it. You began brainstorming with him, trying different approaches until eventually, your wounds began to heal completely. 

“Vulnera Sanentur,” mumbled Severus, over and over again as he waved his wand over you. Once you were completely healed, he helped you off your feet before you suddenly punched him in the arm. 

“DARK MAGIC SEVERUS?! REALLY?!” you shouted, as you shoved him backwards. Clearly the counter charm had worked well, your energy boosting through the roof. “I THOUGHT YOU WERE BETTER THAN THEM, I THOUGHT YOU WERE DIFFERENT!”

“I-I am, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said, lowering his gaze to the ground as he rubbed the spot you’d hit. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”

“And what did you mean to happen exactly? Why would you create a spell like this?”

“I just…” Severus looked away, he knew you wouldn’t approve, neither would Lily and he was afraid that if he told either of you his intentions behind this spell, you’d never want to speak to him again. But he knew he couldn’t hide it anymore. Least of all to you. He owed you an explanation after what you’d just endured. “I just thought I could use it against... certain people,” he pointed his wand to the pool of blood and performed the vanishing charm, using it as an excuse to keep from looking back into your eyes, knowing he’d find nothing but dread and disappointment.

“Who? Who has wronged you so much to earn themselves such a punishment?” you asked. But when he looked back into your eyes and began to shift uncomfortable, you understood immediately. “James,” you said as you nodded your head. 

“He deserves it! He-”

“No one deserves this!” you interrupted him as you felt your rage reach its limit. “Dark Magic is not the answer to his bullying Sev!” His eyes immediately shot to yours at the use of his nickname. “Dark Magic should never be the answer to anything! How could you do this!” tears had returned to your eyes as you began to take a step back. 

“No, (Y/N) please,” he said desperately, “Please don’t leave.”

“How do you expect me to continue being your friend if you’re going to be dabbling in the Dark Arts like this? Being interested in it is one thing, but actually using it?”

“I won’t,” he said quickly. ‘I’ll never use it again if that’s what you want.”

You paused, staring at him in awe. “If that’s what I want? Severus, you can’t be giving up Dark Magic for me, you have to do it of your own accord.”

“Please (Y/N), I-I don’t want to lose you,” you could see the hurt in his eyes as you took another step away from him. You both stared at each other for a while before he spoke again. “I’ll give up the Dark Arts. I won’t even study it,” he whispered.

You looked up at him, wondering if he was genuine about what he was saying or if he was only saying that because he was afraid of losing you as a friend. “Do you promise?”

You also didn’t want his interests to drive a wedge between you both as you understood that he had a good heart but was so easily influenced by the people he was surrounded by. You’d put up with his deep infatuation with the Dark Arts, and you’d always told yourself it was fine so long as he’d stayed in the theoretical section of the subject. But learning that he was willing to use it, against others nonetheless. It was definitely a hard pill to swallow.

“I promise, no more Dark Magic. I swear it.” he said as he handed you back your wand. Perhaps if you stayed friends, you could show him that Dark Magic wasn’t a clutch he needn’t lean on.

“Good,” you whispered as you took it, stuffing it back into your robes. Perhaps he’d learn to use love as a tool instead.

~

Next Chapter

~

@hoppingsnape @dusk-realm @a-slytherin-sin​ @trashandshook ​@gbatesx 

[c-foley]

Queer YA Urban Fantasy “Short Story” Two: The Well

Title: The Well (working title)

Genre: YA Urban Fantasy

Word Count: 6,368

Summary: There is a well of magic that exists within the Earth, but it is only accessible to those who are born with the genes that give them the ability. Maeryn, a non-magical human, is sick and tired of magical humans having all the adventages in life, and so with their friends Naoise, Quinn, Diarmuid, and Cliona, they have develped the technology that will grant them access to the Well. Now all they have to do is learn how to control it...

It was universally acknowledged that those born with the ability to access the magic of The Well had all the advantages in life.

At least that’s how it seemed to Maeryn as they watched yet another magical student receive an award for outstanding achievements in their subject, putting them one step closer to a scholarship for the university of their choice, and giving the magical students one more reason to look down at them. It made Maeryn’s blood boil whenever the magical students derided non-magical students for their lack of connection to The Well and they hated how smug and arrogant most magical people were, how they called themselves ‘evolved’ and ‘chosen’ like their ability was anything other than a random mutation that allowed them to access the Well of magic that resided within the Earth.

The assembly drew to a close and Maeryn high-tailed it out of the hall as fast as they could, skirting past throngs of students, gritting their teeth whenever they caught a flash of light or a loud whizzing or banging that signified someone showing off their magic-wielding abilities. Eventually they reached the science and technology block, their shoulders immediately relaxing and a small smile ghosting over their lips as they entered the technology and engineering lab.

“Hey,” they called out to Naoise and Quinn, who were huddled together, whispering in high-pitched frantic tones as they stared down at something on the workbench in front of them.

“They’re ready,” Naoise said breathlessly in lieu of a greeting. He looked up, a huge smile spreading across his face as he repeated in a wobbling voice, “They’re finally ready.”

Maeryn froze inside the doorway. The feeling of their jaw dropping, their eyes bulging and their heart beating rapidly was drowned out by silence as their brain went into sudden overdrive.

It lasted a beat before everything came rushing back and they spluttered, “It’s…wor- what? How is it working? I just gave you my part last week!”

“Naoise forced me into letting him help,” Quinn replied with a shrug. She took a sip of coffee from her travel mug and added, “Plus I barely sleep as it is, so I worked on them instead of my arm.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Maeryn said, frowning. “This is our group project, we agreed it shouldn’t take time away from our personal work.”

“The sooner we managed to access The Well, the sooner I can fuse my circuitry with magic and build an arm a million times better than the one I have now,” Quinn explained patiently, raising the mass of wires, gears and pieces of metal encased in plastic that made up her left arm and hand.

Maeryn’s eyes lingered on the five claw-like digits that acted as fingers as they said, “Far enough. Are you sure they’re ready?”

“Come and see for yourself,” Naoise grinned.

He hopped off his stool and straightened his puffed-out skirt as he stepped aside to let Maeryn stand at the table. Maeryn felt a sense of awe wash over them as they stared down at the three devices laid out on the workbench, each one lit up and connected to a magnumeter. They leaned down, and sure enough, all three magnumeters were displaying a reading of 200 kilomags. Maeryn examined the devices, their hands running over the head bands, wristbands and backpacks as they admired how sleek they looked. They watched the display on a magnumeter as they turned the device connected to it off and then back on again, humming in approval as the display dropped to zero and then jumped back up to its previous reading.

They stared at the devices again, not quite believing that they were finally complete, that all their hard work had paid off, and finally they all could achieve everything biological magical people could and more.

They looked up at their two friends and croaked out, “Oh my God…OH MY GOD!”

They laughed and suddenly they were wrapped up in a hug with both Quinn and Naoise, the three teenagers laughing and jumping in celebration.

“Let’s try it out,” they jabbered. “I need to know what it feels like, I want to get started on our training right now.”

“Absolutely not,” Quinn replied firmly, pulling away from the hug. “First of all, we’re in school – it’s risky enough having the devices in here. Second of all, we promised Diarmuid we wouldn’t use them unless he’s with us.”

“But he’s still recovering from his top surgery and his grandma won’t let him out until she does like ten million healing spells on him!” Maeryn exclaimed. “I can’t wait that long!”

“Well tough because you’re going to have to,” Quinn replied calmly, while Naoise sent them an apologetic smile and turned back to the workbench to turn the devices off and pack them away.

Maeryn pinched the bridge of their nose and closed their eyes as they groaned deeply.

“Uuunnnngggg-wait wait wait, wait just a second,” they gasped as they fumbled to get their phone out of their pocket. They pulled up their contacts, selected a name and hit ‘call’. Upon Cliona’s, “Hey  what’s up?” they blurted out, “They’re ready, they’re actually honest-to-God ready so please tell your boyfriend to get his ass back into school or I will use mine unsupervised.”

There was a pause, followed by Cliona’s perplexed voice saying, “Wh- but school’s – wait, what? What are you talking about, what’s ready?”

“The. Devices. Are. Ready,” Maeryn stressed. “They’re ready and I want to start using them now but Quinn won’t let me without Diarmuid.”

“Oh my God they’re working?” Cliona gasped. “Diarmuid! The devices are working!”

“What, really?” Maeryn heard Diarmuid’s voice say.

“Yeah and Maeryn’s itching to get started,” Cliona replied in an amused tone. “They said they’ll get started without you if you don’t get down to the school.”

“Maeryn knows I can’t leave. Plus Quinn won’t let them,” Diarmuid replied cheerfully.

“Quinn won’t be able to stop me if I grab a device and run,” Maeryn snarled.

Their scowl deepened upon hearing twin sets of laughter coming through the phone’s speaker, and they yelled several inventive swears down the phone while they paced up and down the room eyeing Naoise who was clutching the box he’d put the devices in, warily eyeing them back.

“Okay okay,” Diarmuid said entreatingly. “I can’t leave here for another two weeks but you can come over.”

“Seriously?” Maeryn asked in surprise. “Your grandma would be okay with that? I don’t want to bother her…”

“It’s fine by me,” a third voice said, and Maeryn felt the blood drain from their face as they realised that Diarmuid’s grandma had probably heard everything. “I’m rather interested to see these devices that I keep hearing about.”

“Uuhh, s-sure,” Maeryn stammered. “We’ll be over in like, twenty minutes.”

“See you then,” Cliona replied, far too amused for Maeryn’s liking, and then hung up.

Maeryn locked their phone and put it back in their pocket before they clutched their hair and hysterically whispered, “Oh my God Diarmuid’s grandma heard me curse! And now I have to go over there and look her in the eye!”

“You have to what?” Naoise asked, still holding the box of devices close to his chest.

“Diarmuid said we could go over to his, and his grandma wants to have a look at the devices,” Maeryn told him and Quinn.

“Congratulations,” Quinn said flatly as she gathered her things into her bag. “Looks like you’re going to get to use magic today after all.”

*

“Hey guys,” Diarmuid greeted them as he opened his front door. “Come on in; let’s get a look at these devices, I can’t believe they’re actually ready.”

Maeryn, Naoise, and Quinn followed him in to the sitting room where he flopped onto the couch and they took their seats around him.

“Hey,” Cliona greeted as she walked into the room holding a tray full of cups and plate of biscuits.

She handed out the cups, and took a seat beside Diarmuid.

“So, who wants to do magic, slash watch us do magic?” Naoise asked far louder than was necessary.

Maeryn sent him a grin and made a grabby motion at him. Naoise winked at them as he handed them one of the devices, and Maeryn focused everything they had in that moment into ignoring how hot their face suddenly felt and praying to God that the blush that was no doubt spreading across their cheeks would be light enough to be hidden by the multitude of freckles scattered across their olive skin.

Naoise handed a second device to Quinn who immediately started putting it on, starting with the headband, and handed the third one to Diarmuid who put his cup down so he could examine it thoroughly, eyes and hands tracing the circuitry, bringing it close to his face so he could see every little detail.

“You did a fantastic job Quinn,” he said, passing the device to Cliona who scrutinised it even closer.

“Thanks…Naoise helped me,” Quinn admitted as she secured the bands around her right wrist and left bicep.

“Really?” Diarmuid grinned as he turned to Naoise and asked, “How did you manage that?”

“I asked very nicely,” Naoise replied sweetly.

“You threatened to steal my notes if I didn’t tell you when I needed help,” Quinn growled.

“Yes exactly – when you needed help,” Naoise stressed.

Quinn rolled her eyes and snapped, “Put the device on Naoise.” She continued to speak, ignoring Naoise’s smirk as he took the device off Cliona and quickly slipped it on. “If these work like they did during testing you should be able to feel The Well as soon as you turn yours on. Diarmuid, where’s the best place to set up the video camera?”

“Here give it to me,,” Diarmuid said.

Quinn handed him the camera and turned to Naoise and Maeryn. “You two ready?”

Maeryn nodded, their legs jiggling as their hands ran over the head and arm bands, repeatedly checked that their device was securely fastened. They could feel a mixture of nervousness and excitement churning in their gut and stood up to try and shake it off.

“Actually, you’re going to want to sit down,” Diarmuid said, his face unusually serious.

Maeryn slowly sank back down on the chair and made do with allowing their leg to jiggle rapidly up and down while their hand clenched and unclenched around each other.

“When you connect with The Well it’s going to feel…odd,” Diarmuid told them. “Everyone reacts differently to the connection until they train and learn to control it – some people feel dizzy, others nauseous, and others are in pain.”

“How did you feel?” Maeryn asked curiously.

“When I was younger I never felt much – my connection to The Well was quite weak. It wasn’t until I started taking testosterone that my connection grew stronger; until my hormone levels balanced out I experienced cramps and dizzy spells mostly. Now I’m fine. When you turn your device on take as long as you need to get used to how it feels before you try accessing the magic and pulling it to you.” He turned the camera on, pressed record and said, “Magical channelling device, initial test,” before making a ‘whenever you’re ready,’ gesture at them.

Without a moment’s hesitation Maeryn turned their device on. Instantly their entire body was thrumming, feeling as though it was being pulled in every direction as it filled with pure euphoria and an energy they had never felt before. Their skin felt like it was seconds away from flying off their body, while their head was swimming, overwhelmed by dizziness. It was delicious and tangible and the best feeling in the world.

And then they felt the tug.

It came from deep within their core, pulled at their every nerve and fibre, and they raised their hands as they pulled in response. It came rushing towards them, feeling to them as though it were full of light and heat. At first there was only the feeling, and then a glow appeared under Maeryn’s skin, running down their forearms and into their hands. Fire burst from the palm of their hands, and after their initial gasp of shock, they stared in fascination as their skin of their palms charred and blackened painlessly.

“Why doesn’t it hurt?” they wondered aloud.

“Huh?” Diarmuid asked, turning from where he was helping a nauseous-looking Quinn out of her seat. His eyes widened slightly and he said, “Babe will you help Quinn to the bathroom please?”

Cliona was immediately at his side, taking Quinn’s hand in hers and wrapping her arm around her waist. As the two girls left the room Diarmuid knelt by Maeryn’s side.

“I told you not to try pulling at it,” he chided gently as he looked over their hands. “Should have known I couldn’t trust you.”

“I couldn’t help myself; it was calling to me,” Maeryn replied defensively. Diarmuid pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow at them, and they quickly bowed their head as they muttered, “I am also sorely lacking in self-control…”

“So it would seem. The reason it doesn’t hurt is because while you are channelling magic it works with you to make everything as easy as possible, including shielding you from whatever pain your body is experiencing. However,” he said, leaning in slightly, “it only lasts while you’re channelling the magic. The moment you let it go, the pain will hit you like a freight train, especially given how badly you’ve burned your hands,” he finished, nodding to the charred claws that were occupying the space where Maeryn’s hands had been.

The world slowed to a near-halt. Maeryn could feel their lashes brushing against their cheeks as they blinked, could hear the blood rushing in their ears, could feel the beat of their heart as it beat ferociously against their chest, trying to claw its way out. There was a low whining sound coming from all around them, sounding like an animal in severe distress, and it wasn’t until Diarmuid put his hand on their shoulder and snapped them out of their trance that they realised the sound was coming from them. Their heart galloped, sweat poured down their neck and chest and regardless of how much they tried to stifle it, they couldn’t stop whimpering.

“Hey hey, Maeryn it’s okay, we can fix this,” Diarmuid said soothingly, stroking their back. “I’m sorry I scared you so much; I was annoyed that you didn’t listen to me and acted like an asshole. Listen to me,” he said firmly, staring into their eyes. “We can fix this, just whatever you do, do not let go of the magic, okay?”

Little by little, Maeryn could feel their panic abate until they were able to breathe normally. They nodded, still not trusting themself to speak, and smiled when Diarmuid smiled brightly at them.

“Good. I’m gonna go get my grandma. Just focus on keeping the fire in your hands until we come back. Okay?”

Maeryn nodded again, and fixed their eyes on their hands as he stood and walked out of the room.

“How the hell did you do that?” Naoise demanded from where he was sprawled on the floor. “I mean, I feel like I’m tripping absolute balls and I can feel The Well but I can’t get a grip on a damn thing, it’s like trying to pick up water!”

Maeryn stared unblinkingly at their hands and quickly shrugged.

“I suppose I should be thankful that I’m not as bad as Quinn,” Naoise sighed. “I just…I kind of thought I’d be the first to channel the magic, you know, being the one with magical parents and all.”

Maeryn internally winced at the jealous and bitter tone of his voice and managed to grit out, “I’m sorry.”

“No don’t be, it’s not your fault,” Naoise replied nonchalantly. “I’m just jealous. Hey,” he added gently as Quinn entered the room, leaning heavily against Cliona’s side, “how are you feeling?”

“I threw up,” Quinn replied grouchily. She pressed herself against Cliona’s side and murmured, “Mmm, you’re so comfortable and squishy.  Diarmuid better appreciate your squishiness or I will have to have words with him you know.”

“I know,” Cliona replied with a soft chuckle as she helped Quinn sit down on the couch. She glanced at Naoise and said, “She’s a little out of it, it’s a totally normal response.”

“Was Diarmuid like this when he started taking T?”

Cliona grinned wickedly and replied, “He used to spend hours on my lap asking for cuddles and hair pets. It was wonderful.”

“Yes yes, like I said, the connection to The Well can make you a bit loopy,” Diarmuid said archly as he re-entered the room with his grandma Fatima. He walked straight over to Maeryn, who was still staring at their hands. “Grandma this is Maeryn. As you can see, they’ve gotten themself into a bit of trouble.”

“They?”

“Yeah, Maeryn’s agender, they use they/them pronouns.”

Fatima nodded, bent down, eyed Maeryn’s hands and sent them an eye-crinkling smile as she said, “Well now, aren’t you a natural?”

“I…I guess?” Maeryn replied, their eyebrows raising and coming together.

“Yes I would say so. Diarmuid, be a dear and fetch me a chair please, then go help your other friends. Cliona that anti-nausea remedy I brewed will be ready now, you should give a glass of it to your friend.”

Diarmuid and Cliona both left the room and returned shortly with a chair and a glass of orange liquid.

Once Fatima was seated, she raised her hands which burst into flames and gently took hold of Maeryn’s hands as she said, “Let’s get you healed. The first lesson of magic is that it is controlled by two things; your will and your imagination. Whatever you can imagine, as long as it doesn’t violate the laws of nature, your magic should be able to do it, provided your will is strong enough to make it. Given that you were able to produce fire through your skin on your first try, I’d say your will is plenty strong. Now, what you need to do in order to heal your hands is two things; first you need draw the heat out of your bones and tissues, letting the flames around them fade and cool. Second, you need to rebuild and replace all the damaged bones, tissues, nerves and skin. How’s your knowledge of the anatomical structure of the hand?”

“Uhh…”

“That’s what I thought,” Fatima sighed. “Cliona darling will you please get my anatomy book – not the textbook, my book.”

Cliona nodded and ran off, returning with a large book in her hands. Fatima took it with a quick “thanks,” and flicked through the pages until she found the section she wanted. She turned the book towards Maeryn and showed her several diagrams outlining each layer that formed the human hand, starting with the bones and working their way through muscles and nerves before finishing with the skin.

“We’re going to do this together,” Fatima told them gently. “I’ll tell you what to do, show you, and then you copy. It will hurt as you draw the magic from each part of your hand, but you must focus solely on healing yourself.”

Maeryn nodded and steeled themself as Fatima held up her flame-covered right hand and said, “Okay, let’s start with the bones.”

Two hours later Maeryn sighed in relief as the last of the flames left their hands and the magic they had channelled returned to The Well. They turned their hands over, examining both sides. It had been painful at times, excruciating even, but in the end they had managed to mostly heal their hands. The skin of their palms was still pink and slightly blistered, but the pain was minimal and everything felt like it was working properly. Fatima sandwiched their hands in her and closed her eyes as she muttered to herself. A feeling of coolness and instant relief washed over their hands, and Maeryn felt their breath catch in their throat as they felt the skin of their hands shift and stretch. Fatima pulled her hands away and Maeryn’s jaw dropped when they saw that while they still looked a little pink, the blistering was nearly gone and the skin mostly unblemished.  

They pulled their hands to their chest and clutched them together as they said, “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome dearie. It will take a few more healing spells to get them fully healed – come back tomorrow and I’ll teach you some. Also in future, make sure to imagine the magic as something gentle, like air, water, or pure light. No more fire until you’re better trained okay?”

Maeryn nodded eagerly and replied, “I promise.”

Fatima chuckled, patted their knee and turned to Diarmuid, saying, “How are your other friends doing?”

“Good; neither of them have been able to channel any magic, but they’ve both managed to adjust quite well to their connection.”

“Good. I’d say now is a good time to wrap this up?”

“I have a few tests I want to run on Maeryn, but Naoise and Quinn are good to stop,” Cliona said, gesturing at Maeryn to go over to her.

Maeryn took a seat by Cliona and paid careful attention to her instructions as she tested their memory, cognitive abilities, reflexes, took a sample of their blood, and examined their hands, all the while scribbling notes in her notebook. When she was done, she helped Maeryn turn off and remove the device, handing it to Diarmuid who put it away in its box.

“I assume I don’t have to tell you to keep this a secret until you all have full control over the connection,” Fatima said. “What I will tell you is that until you do, you should leave the devices with Diarmuid – just in case any of you get a little too eager to practice without his supervision,” she added, looking meaningfully at Maeryn.

Maeryn felt their cheeks grow hot and quickly nodded along with the rest.

Fatima smiled and said, “Look out for each other, listen to what Diarmuid tells you about handing the connection, and don’t be impatient with yourself about how fast you progress. This house is open to all of you for your practice sessions, and I look forward to hearing about all your progress.”

*

Maeryn carefully pulled magic to them from The Well, imagining it as a spinning ball of air suspended above their palm. It flickered into existence, wobbling slightly, and they drew in a breath, focusing everything they had on keeping it contained, and as small as possible. The sphere remained stable, but on their sigh of relief it shot sideways and collided with the garden wall. Maeryn winced as they looked at the large hole left from the impact, then shook their head and body, took a few deep breaths, and tried again.

On the other side of the garden Naoise and Quinn were meditating as they tried to pull the magic, any amount of magic, to themselves. There was a dim light emanating from Naoise’s hands, while Quinn’s skin looked damp, but despite their best efforts, neither of them could produce anything as tangible as Maeryn.

“I don’t understand,” Quinn finally exclaimed, when the fruit of her intense labour was a mere puddle of water in the palm of her hand. “Why is it that we’re struggling so much when Maeryn isn’t? If it was just me I’d say it was because of my arm, but it’s not me that’s the odd one out here.”

“The only significant difference I could find between the two of you and Maeryn is that Maeryn’s red blood cell count if significantly higher. I don’t quite understand how that links with the strength of their connection to The Well, but it’s the only factor I can point to at this moment.”

“Hmm…Maeryn do me a favour and turn your device off,” Diarmuid said.

Maeryn nodded and their second sphere of air exploded in their hand, slicing the skin open. They cursed, quickly healed their hand and turned their device off.

“Woah!” Naoise exclaimed as the light in the palm of his hand instantly brightened to the point where he had to shield his eyes until he managed to dim it to a more comfortable level.

He laughed and turned to Quinn, who’s hands were overflowing with water. She grinned and flicked water in his direction, causing him to splutter and flick his hands instinctively at her, a miniature rainbow forming where the light and water met.

“That’s what I thought,” Diarmuid said in an amused tone. “Maeryn’s hogging the magic.”

“What? How can they hog magic?” Naoise asked nonplussed.

“When you’re fully trained in how to handle your connection to the magic it’s easy to fight for your share of The Well, but when you start out, your connection can easily be overpowered by anyone with a stronger will. Which is what’s happening here. Basically whatever it is about Maeryn that’s different to you two means that they can easily highjack your connection to The Well and channel the magic that should go to you. This means two things: Naoise and Quinn, you need to work on strengthening your connection to The Well, and Maeryn, you need to learn to control your connection better .. Both of these are achievable through meditation and metal visual exercises while you’re wearing the device; the sharper and more stable your mind is, the better the connection.”

“Would it not make sense to wear the device all the time then, so we can get used to it as much as possible?” Maeryn asked.

“It probably would,” Diarmuid conceded, “but it’s not a good idea for any of you to be on your own with the device on; you don’t know what might happen.”

*

Maeryn hummed happily as they assembled the circuitry for their solar balloon prototype, their hands steady as they carefully soldered the components to the circuit board.

“How’s your project going?” Ms Hawthorne asked as she walked up to their workbench.

“Good, I’m just making the final touches to the transmitter circuit and then I’ll be assembling the prototype,” Maeryn replied, their eyes never straying from their task.

“Excellent, let me know when you’re ready to test it; I’m excited to see it in action.”

Maeryn pulled the solder and iron away from the component they’d just secured in place, looked up and grinned as they said, “Me too.”

Ms Hawthorne smiled in reply and walked to the bench across from Maeryn’s where Quinn was working on improving the mobility of their arm and Naoise was muttering and occasionally cursing under his breath as he typed code in furious chunks. Behind them Cliona and Diarmuid were working together on a design for a diagnosis machine that could act as a portable doctor of sorts, trying to make it usable for both magical and non-magical people.

Maeryn’s attention was diverted when the door to the technology room opened and they turned their head towards the door, a curious look on their face. It quickly morphed into a scowl when they saw Heather and Bridget, two of the most prolific magical students in the school, walk into the room. The two girls looked around, expressions of boredom and disdain on their faces, before they stepped into the room and closed the door behind them.

“Excuse me,” Maeryn said, turning around fully in their stool, not bothering to hide their scowl, “this is the STEM club. It’s for students gifted and talented in science and engineering.”

Bridget’s eyes widened as she pursed her lips and replied, “Uh, yeah we know.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Heather added, rolling her eyes.

“Why are you here?” Maeryn asked disdainfully, crossing their arms over their chest.

“Because,” Heather replied, drawing out the vowels, “We’re working on a communication and technology project and Ms Hawthorne said we could use this room.”

“You’re not gifted and talented,” Maeryn said stubbornly.

“Not in your pitiful non-magic science and technology we’re not, but we’re plenty gifted in magical science, which, as everyone knows, is where the real future lies,” Bridget replied with a large smirk.

She nudged Heather, raised a hand and called out in a bright tone, “Hi Ms Hawthorne, sorry we’re late!”

“Hi girls, glad you could make it,” Ms Hawthorne said, waving them over. “You can work on that bench at the back, and you can use whatever resources you want.”

“Thanks miss, we really appreciate your help,” Heather replied sweetly.

She and Bridget sent Maeryn a vicious glare, before Bridget glanced around and flicked her fingers in Maeryn’s direction. Maeryn ducked and glared at them as they laughed and sashayed over to their work bench. Maeryn huffed, whipped around and gaped when they saw that their balloon was soaring over their head, emitting loud belching noises. They clambered up onto the bench and reached up to grab it just as Ms Hawthorne turned around, a questioning look on her face.

“Everything okay Maeryn?”

The balloon immediately died and fell into their arms. They slowly climbed down from the bench,  keeping their expression as calm as possible despite how much their blood was boiling.

“Yes, just a test that got out of hand,” they replied.

Their teacher hummed and turned away. Maeryn immediately whipped back around, sent Bridget and Heather who were shaking with silent laughter a look of pure hatred, and went back to work on their project with a vicious intensity, imagining that every sizzle of the soldering iron was the sound of the two girls’ skin burning.

*

Maeryn, Quinn and Naoise all balanced two spheres of magic above the palms of their hands, one a sphere of air and the other a sphere of water, Maeryn’s slightly larger than the others’.

“Great job guys,” Diarmuid said proudly. “You’ve all got a fantastic handle on summoning your magic. Now let’s try some target practice,” he said with a grin as he took up a set of metal discs. “Get ready.”

The three separated, each focusing on the discs in Diarmuid’s hands. Without warning, he sent three flying into the air; Maeryn zeroed in on one and their will responded in kind, channelling the magic and striking the disc before Quinn and Naoise, leaving a hole dead centre from the force of their strike.

“Maeryn remember, the point of this exercise is precision, not strength. Strike the targets, but don’t damage them.”

Maeryn gave him a short nod and he went back to tossing discs in the air, using his magic to move them mid-air, forcing the three trainees to send their magic chasing after them, their spheres ducking and weaving around each other as they zoomed around the garden. By the end of the training session, Maeryn had destroyed ten out of the sixteen targets they’d struck, while Naoise had struck eight targets and Quinn eleven.

“That was great guys, although Maeryn, control your strength. Let’s do a quick mindfulness exercise and then we’ll finish for today,” Diarmuid told them as he sat cross-legged on the grass, the other three following suite.

“Don’t turn the devices off until after I do my tests,” Cliona called from where she was sitting on the porch, the video camera set up beside her and her notebook on her lap.

When the training and tests were done and the devices were packed away in their box which was stored safely in Diarmuid’s room Quinn pulled a poster out of her bag and showed the rest of them.

“Visions of Tomorrow?” Maeryn said, reading the title at the top of the page.

“It’s a science and technology fair that’s open to anyone who has a working prototype for an invention to improve future lives,” Quinn told them, her eyes burning with excitement and light brown cheeks flushed. “It’s in six months time. I think we should exhibit the devices there.”

“Really? Do you think we’ll have mastered the connection by then?” Naoise asked, directing his excited question at Diarmuid.

“Not completely, but definitely enough to show off what the device is capable of.”

“Oh my God amazing, let’s do it!” Naoise enthused. “You in Maeryn?”

“Definitely,” Maeryn replied, thinking about how it would wipe the smug looks off Bridget’s and Heather’s and every other stuck-up, arrogant magical person’s face.

“Yes!” Naoise cheered pulling them into a hug, which they returned just as enthusiastically.

“I’m glad we all agree,” Quinn said happily, putting the poster back in her bag. “Now we know what we’re aiming for, we should use our time training to put together a presentation.”

“I already have so many ideas in mind,” Naoise said eagerly.

“I look forward to hearing them. Tomorrow though, I need to get home.”

“Same,” Maeryn said, moving reluctantly from under Naoise’s arm.

“Do you want a lift home?” Naoise asked them.

“Yeah that’d be great thanks. Just uh…I just need to ask Quinn something really quick, be right back.”

Maery nipped out the door and caught up with Quinn just as she was turning on to the path.

“Hey, do you have the circuit diagrams for the devices?”

“Yes, why?” Quinn asked in slight surprise.

“I’ve got some ideas about how to put dampeners in my device to help me control my connection better, but I can’t hash them out properly without either the devices, which is obviously a no-go, or the circuit diagrams.”

They blinked and fought to keep their face as nonchalant and innocent as possible while Quinn thought over what they’d said.

Eventually Quinn replied, “That sounds like a good idea,” and it took everything in them not to sigh aloud in relief

Quinn dug around in her bag and pulled out a bundle of sheets on which was drawn a copy of the device’s circuit diagrams.

“When you’re done let me check over it and I’ll let you know whether or not it’s feasible.”

“Thanks,” Maeryn replied, clutching the paper close to their chest.

*

Maeryn leaned back in their chair with a groan of relief, cracked their neck and sighed, “Thank God.”

They looked down at their desk, grinned and picked up the device they had just finished. They ran their fingers over it, admiring its sleekness, so much better than the clunky shape of the device they had been training with. Fortunately it hadn’t taken much to modify the design so it was much more compact and less visible; flatten the spinal piece, turn the headband into two pieces that stuck behind the ear, and slim down the arm bands so they looked like regular bracelets. Best of all, it was easy to install wireless transmitters and receivers so the wires from the other devices were eliminated.

Now they could practice whenever they wanted. Now the real training began; being constantly connected to The Well.

“If this doesn’t help me get control of my connection then I don’t know what will,” they muttered before they put on the components of the device, turned it on, and went to bed.

*

“I don’t know why you bother with that silly solar balloon.” Heather sneered and leaned further across the bench into Maeryn’s space. “It’s not like it’s any more efficient than a solar panel.”

“The sun doesn’t always shine on solar panels genius; this will go above the clouds,” Maeryn replied through gritted teeth, staring down at the prototype they were assembling.

“You do realise that with magic we can make the sun shine whenever and wherever we want.”

“And you do realise that messing with the forces of nature, including weather, is illegal.”

“Whatever,” Bridget sighed.

She looked down at the circuitry and said, “I don’t even know why you bother with this; a magical engineer could get this thing working with half the components and much quicker too.”

“Yes, and then they would need someone to stand and constantly supply it with magic to keep it working. At least I’ve designed mine to sustain itself.”

“Haven’t you heard that we’re working on magical batteries? Soon non-magical grunts like you will be obsolete –”

“Shut up,” Maeryn said in a low tone, without looking up.

They could feel their body shaking, filling to the brim with anger, magic surging under their skin in response. They took a deep breath and focused on finishing their project, furiously tapping down on the magic that wanted to desperately to lash out.

“Oh no, did I hit a nerve?” Bridget said sweetly. She leaned in once again and her voice took on a nasty edge as she said, “You’re only mad because you know I’m right, you know that those of us that can harness magic are the future and that sooner or later, we are going to leave you pathetic –”

“Shut up.”

“– in the dust. Everything about you is already obsolete, so why don’t you all just give up – ”

“Shut up.”

“– and accept that you have no place of value in the world any more, that if you all died the world would just go on spinning and would probably be a better pl- ”

“SHUT UP!” Maeryn roared, throwing their hands up.

Fire erupted from their hands and slammed into the other teenager, enveloping her body as she fell back against the wall. Her shrieks and howls filled the room along with the stench of burning flesh even as she tried to smother the flames in water. Heather screamed and sprayed water over here, while Ms Hawthorne grabbed the fire extinguisher from the back of the room and ran over to spray her thoroughly. The flames and Bridget’s shrieks faded away, leaving a deafening silence behind.

Maeryn stared wide-eyed at the other students who were staring at them in shock and fear. Disbelief and shock coursed through them and their mind buzzed, unable to process what had just happened. Their gaze drifted downwards and they started at the sight of their hands trembling and blackened, flames still burning brightly around them.

Oh God.

What the hell had they done?

So a few weeks ago I posted my first attempt at a YA Urban Fantasy, a short story called The Machines. From the same prompt and grou of characters I also came up with this short story, entitles the well.

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this story! If you have please like and reblog, and if you have any thoughts I’d love to hear them!

Slán!

C.x