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anna-the-undertaker · 1 year

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Rebirth

"Human DNA contains all the necessary genes to produce feathers - it's merely a matter of selective activation."

I may have gone a little overboard with this, but I saw this on a Twitter meme, and it got me thinking:

The human body readily responds to changing environmental stresses in a variety of biological and cultural ways. We can acclimatize to a wide range of temperature and humidity. When traveling to high altitudes, our bodies adjust so that our cells still receive sufficient oxygen. We also are constantly responding in physiological ways to internal and external stresses such as bacterial and viral infections, air and water pollution, dietary imbalance, and overcrowding. This ability to rapidly adapt to varying environmental conditions has made it possible for us to survive in most regions of the world. We live successfully in humid tropical forests, harsh deserts, arctic wastelands, and even densely populated cities with considerable amounts of pollution. Most other animal and plant species are restricted to one or relatively few environments by their more limited adaptability.

When an environmental stress is constant and lasts for many generations, successful adaptation may develop through biological evolution. Those individuals who inherit a trait that offers an advantage in responding to particular stresses are more likely to survive longer and pass on more of their genes to the next generation.

Genetic change in response to environmental stresses usually takes many generations to become widespread in a population. Fortunately, we also have other ways of responding more quickly as individuals during our own lifetime. The word adjustments is used here to refer to these shorter term physiological changes that are not inheritable. The word adaptations is reserved for inheritable genetic changes developed in a population over a long period of time.

One of the more powerful types of adjustments to environmental stresses is a change in growth patterns and development. This occurs in childhood and typically results in anatomical and/or physiological changes that are mostly irreversible in adulthood. Such permanent changes are referred to as developmental adjustment or developmental acclimatization.

This led me down a rabbit hole on how a human would be affected while in contact with the Devildom and its inhabitants and how MC differs from them. Excluding Solomon as his circumstances are much more complex.

For a normal human, the risks from exposure are mainly focused on their psyche, as the brothers' sins bleed from them almost uncontrollably, and its mostly the same for other demons in the Devildom and the Devildom itself. So, as long as the human stays vigilant, they would be able to scrape by with only minor affects from the exposure. Their bodies wouldn't change, and even if they did, it wouldn't be apparent in them, but in their offspring and further descendents.

MC, however, is not a normal human. For the most part, they are immune to the affects of the sins due to their angelic heritage. But I can imagine that there would still be some results from being near them long term.

Human beings are imitative generalists. We can immediately imitate a wide range of behaviors with great facility, whether they be vocal maneuvers, body postures, or actions on objects.

So it's likely that MC would eventually start imitating some of the brothers' habits after so long. And in so duing, succumbing, more often than not, to their sins, changing them even more than before.

Which brings me to this:

MC, after being in the Devildom for so long and in contact with all these supernatural beings, begins to adapt to the environment due to their angelic heritage, exposure to magic, and close proximity to the brothers, along with their pacts.

As time passes, they begin to feel a slight change in their back and skull. They can feel the skin begin to stretch, an itch they can't seem to be free of. An ache settles there as their bones begin to change, and large lumps form there, the skin turning a bright red due to irritation.

Their diet changes, too. Foods they weren't able to eat before because of nasty side affects from human consumption no longer ail them. They become much more tempting.

Strong magic no longer makes them feel sick. Before, long exposure made their pulse quicken, head throb, stomach churn, and now its barely even a tickle. A slight sensation, like a puff of breath against their skin.

Their physical strength becomes much stronger. They break things with much more ease now. Pencils, toothbrushes, cups. All things that are imprented into their muscle memory become much harder to use. Things that were supposed to be too heavy for humans feel much lighter.

The others don't seem to notice. Assuming MCs discomfort is due to them being a human in their habitat. Neither Solomon nor the angels notice either for the same reason. Diavolo and Barbatos are the same.

They continue to do as they have done from the start. Bringing MC small comforts to help them survive. Basic necessities that humans require. They make sure that the sun lamp in MC's room stays functioning. They have human foods in stock. Medication should MC need it. All of their needs and wants are met with utmost care from the beings that love them so deeply.

MC says nothing and hides it, becoming more distant. Confused and trying to convince themself that this is but a passing thing. Its not the first time something weird or painful has happened to them in all their years being in the devildom.

That is until a blood curdling scream rips through the HoL in the middle of the night, a painful sound akin to that of a banshee, snatching all the inhabitants away from what occupied their attention.

They know that voice and are all scrambling to get to them.

Mammon arrives first, already in his demon form, being the quickest of the brothers and bursts through MCs door with no regard to the fact that he turned it to splinters. He is snarling, ready to protect MC, but the scene before him makes him freeze.

MC is on the floor, on their hands and knees. Eyes screwed shut as their face twists with excruciating pain. More screams pushing past their lips, each one with more ferocity. Their covers had been pulled along with them as if they had fallen out of bed.

The smell of blood hits him like a punch to the gut. MC was covered in it. Their sleep shirt drenched in the red liquid. Its slides down their face with no intention slowing.

It brings back awful memories that he never wants to remember. Their body cradled in his arms as he pleaded for them to stay awake and stay with him after Belphie threw them over the railing.

The ringing of their screams in his ears shakes him out of his stuper, and he is at their side in seconds, his hands hovering over them, unsure whether or not he should touch them since they look to be in so much pain.

He has no idea what to do, and before he knows it, he's sobbing. Screaming for his older brother.

"Lucifer! Lucifer, help!"

The eldest was a blur of black as he rushed in. His wings and horns on full display. His red eyes practically bulging from their sockets at what he found. But he was quick to hide it.

"What happened?!" He snapped.

Mammons mouth worked to form words but could barely get them out between his sobbing breathes, "I-I don't... I found them like this and..."

There was no histation in Lucifers stride as he dropped down to one knee next to them. His hand came to softly rest on MCs shoulder to get them to look at him, but her scream of pain at the contact made him jerk it away. He gently cradled their face after that and noticed that their skin was hotter than humans should ever be. He knew enough to know that if they didn't act fast, MCs organs would begin shutting down. However, the eldest was not adept in the knowledge of human physiology and was internally berating himself for it.

"Satan!" He yelled.

The fourth born was already hot on their heels before his name could leave the mans mouth, with the rest of them not far behind.

Deja Vu for all of them. Reliving that fateful night from years long passed.

The blondes eyes scrunched together as he ran to them, leaving the others to stare in horror from the doorway.

"Their temperature is too high. We need to cool them off somehow." Lucifer said, his fist balled at his side, knuckles white from fighting off his pride and his worry.

"We need to get them into an ice bath," Satan said, the back of his hand gently lingering on MCs cheek, but when the others made no attempt to move, he snapped. "NOW!"

They scattered, but Lucifer and Mammon remained.

"We need to stop the bleeding too," he continued. "With their temperature so high, medication won't work. Their body will burn it off before it can help."

Satans voice softened, "MC, we need to see where the blood is coming from. Where does it hurt?"

MCs chest heaved, their breathes coming sharp and fast, "b-back.... he-head"

"I'm going to remove your shirt, okay?"

Satan nodded for Lucifer to begin examining their head while he began ripping away the shirt as gently as possible, paying little mind to MCs exposed form.

Satans breath stopped at what he saw, eyes wide. Six jagged tears lined their spine. Hollowed bones petruding through the exposed muscle. Strips of flesh hung over their sides, and each breath they took seemed to tear at it more.

Lucifers reaction was the same. The skin on MCs forehead had split, leaving bleached white mounds of bone in its wake. And when he looked up to see Satans face twisted with emotion, his eyes fell to the mangled flex.

Mammons sobbing intensified at the sight. What are they supposed to do? None of this was right. What is happening to MC? Why? Why, why, why, why, why, why?

MCs screams returned, and they fell to the floor in agony, reaching out to the men in front of them and latching on to them. The muscles in their back flexed, and the hollow bones pushed out further.

Asmo reapeared, "Its ready-" he gasped. His eyes fell to MCs crumbled form, and his hands covered his mouth just as Levi, Beel, and Belphie arrived.

Levi was already crying. Worrying over his best friend. But now it was so much worse. What was happening? How is he supposed to help? He wants to desperately, but has no idea what to do.

Beel was the same. He's hates seeing the people he loves more than anything in so much pain. His strength has no use in this situation, and it pains him. This is not a battle he can win.

Belphie is still as a statue. His mind racing, feet frozen in place, unable to look away. Was this what my brothers felt that time? This fear that seeps into his stomach is the same fear and agony that he felt when Lilith died. Not again, not again, not again.

"MC can you stand?" Lucifer asks.

"No," MC wailed. "Hurts too much.... can't move. Please make it stop! I can't-"

Their screams turned to agonizing sobs.

"Belphie, we need you to put them to sleep." Lucifer commanded.

Belphie did not move. He barely heard him speak.

"Belphie!" Mammon yelled.

He still did not move. Caught in the well of his own misery and regret.

MCs voice broke through, "Belphie, please!"

Belphie was shoved forward by Levi before his feet began to move on their own. Hesitant hands reached for MC, his thumbs brushing over their eyelids until they closed completely, and they fell limp into Lucifers arms.

Lucifer called Diavolo to let him know of the situation. They did their best to keep everything in order while waiting on MC to recover. Weeks passed, and the Prince and Barbatos began to visit the HoL daily to check on MCs progress.

They treated MCs wounds as best they could, even bringing Simeon and Solomon to try and help as well, with Luke sending baked treats he made for MC. The angels magic did little to help as the bones would tear the wound open anew as it continued to grow even larger with flesh new beginning to form around it.

None of them had ever seen this before. Even Solomon was at a loss. Angelic healing magic was the strongest in all three realms, and it wasn't working. Human medicine wasn't helping, and neither was demonic magic. So, the sorcerer turned to experiments and research. Pilfering through all his old tomes and notes. Taking viles of MCs blood for testing. Satan helped him with his search as well, staying awake for days on end.

Weeks turned to months, and Belphie took to staying in MCs room in order to keep them in a state of comatose to help them endure the pain, only allowing them to be awake to eat whatever food his twin brought for them. Beel had taken to being their bodyguard when the others weren't around.

Mammon came and went. Bringing with him items he believed might make MC feel better, but he wouldn't stay for long. It hurt him too much to see MC in this state. While he was away, he spent his time searching, bribing, and threatening others to find a solution. Witches or other demons, it made no difference to him. He would pay any price.

For a while, Levi stayed locked up in his room. Feeling as though he would just get in the way. But it wasn't long before he couldn't stand not having his best friend there with him. So he began visiting them, even when they weren't awake. Talking to their sleeping form about whatever game or anime he was currently fixated on until his rambling turned to pleading for them to get better.

Asmo had declared himself MC's nurse. Washing their hair and body, cleaning their wounds, and using special creams and oinments to help with swelling and scarring. He could often be found sitting by their bed holding their hand in his lap as he whispered compliments to them. His smile unaltering even if it never reached his eyes.

Lucifer came late in the night, letting Belphie and Beel leave to get true rest, and he would just sit in silence as he watched their breaths rise and fall. And when he knew he was completely alone, his back would bow with the weight of his pain, shoulders sagging under the pressure. His fist would fly to his hair, strands coming loose as he pulled. Tears would well up in his eyes. Was this Fathers doing? Was he punishing you as he had done to us? Was he truly so petty to put you through all this pain? His tears would stop as soon as the twins returned, and he would stand, his spine rigid and head held high before turning to leave himself.

This all became a routine until MC's wings and horns stopped growing.

Their wings were massive, comparable to Lucifers, and pitch black, the tips white on the underside like those of Black Vultures from the Human Realm.

Their horns were smooth like polished crystal as they curved up and around the crown of their head like a halo, the ends bent upward. Black at the base and fading to white as they went.

Finally, they found the answer thanks to Solomon.

The Sorcerer had come to the HoL, exhausted and worse for wear, but with a triumphant smile on his face. Satan, Diavolo, Barbatos, and Simeon followed close behind.

He gathered them all in MCs room, where they still slept.

"So what's wrong with em'?" Mammon squawked, impatient as ever.

"There is nothing wrong with them. Not truly. In simple terms, MC has evolved. They are no longer human." Solomon answered plainly.

"So they are a demon now?" Beel asked.

"That's the intriguing part, No. After running multiple tests, I could find no trace of the human genome or anything connected to demons or angels in their blood. From what I can gather, the genes from their angelic heritage were domant before being activated by their experiences here in the Devildom. Their body evolved to survive. Normally, these new genes would be passed on to their descendents much later, but due to their peculiar circumstances and the power they have aquired, the process was excelerated. MC is no longer human and neither demon nor angel. They have become something new."

"Would they be comparable to a Nephilim or Cambion?" Diavolo asked.

"I don't know. All we can do is wait and see. But I do not believe they will pose a danger. If anything, this cements them as a connection to all three realms. Having been born a human with angelic blood and their relationships with all of you and pacts with the brothers, they might well be your greatest asset to create the peace you have been working so diligently for."

They all turned to look at MCs sleeping form.

"Then what are we waiting for, huh? Let's wake em' up!" Mammon exclaimed.

Lucifer looked over to Diavolo and received a warm smile and a nod.

With them all gathered around Belphie lifted his magic and MC stirred.

Their eyes blinked open, and they were greeted with new life.

Drawing reference to MCs new form. Science Overview

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me mc #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke

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boosoonhao · 3 months

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highways: in defiance

hoshi x reader 6.7k words dystopian au sexism and totalitarian regime warning

soonyoung figures out, quite early into your marriage, that you’re a pretty impressive actress. actress is not the world he should use, really; the female form of the masculine ‘actor’. one doesn’t use feminine forms of occupations anymore. but when he looks at you, at the massive shift in your attitude once the wedding is done and over with and you’re both situated in what used to be soonyoung’s home – it is still soonyoung’s, for all intents and purposes; you’re not allowed to own property, after all, but your presence is so huge, so imposing that it feels shared nonetheless – it’s the feminine form of the word ‘actor’ that comes to mind.

he’ll grant you that; that tiny, private nod of respect. illegal and dangerous as it might be, he can’t quite help it. in retrospect, that’s probably the first sign of what the high judges would call ‘suspicious influence’.

during the pre-marriage sessions; recorded meetings in dull, grey rooms at the center of the golden circle, you had seemed like the perfect picture of the kind of woman soonyoung’s supposed to be with. agreeable, pretty, good genes. demure, but not without personality; nothing of that dead, distasteful glare that seems a genetic trait of people from the middle districts.

where you’d been reserved but susceptible during the interviews, you are now cold; eyes shimmering with visible disdain as soonyoung comes in during the quiet, soft yellow hours of the morning. there’s a layer of sweat hidden beneath his trained exterior, a smell of gasoline sticking to his fingers. he glances at the clock right above the entrance to the living room. 5.15 in the morning. he hadn’t expected you awake already, had thought he’d be able to slip inside unnoticed and wash the evidence of his illicit nightly adventures off before falling under your scrutiny.

you’re observant, he’s noticed; quick to pick up on his habits and his preferences. you make him breakfast, cook him dinners; coffee ready on the table every morning, even though he can tell that you despise it. that your fingers twitch with the want to dunk the hot liquid that you’re not allowed to drink yourself right in his face.

he wonders if you think he’s cheating; that his nightly escapades are of the sexual nature. ‘men are creatures of the flesh’, soonyoung’s father used to say. ‘if denied their right in the home, who can blame them for seeking satisfaction somewhere else?’. soonyoung thinks this was meant as a jab towards his mother, who meant that women had one job, and one job only. in any case, the idea never sat right with him. not even now, not even when you sleep fully clothed at the very edge of your shared bed.

and if you do think that’s what he’s doing; do you care? does the slight downwards pull of your lips come from the idea of him entangled with someone else during secret meetings in the night, or does it come from the disdain of the walls that surround you on every side like a lavish, pretty jail cell?

soonyoung can’t tell which option he’d prefer.

(he can’t even tell if any of them are preferable at all.)

____________________

the scariest thing about you, soonyoung finds, is how outspoken you are. he’d heard about it, of course; about the silver tongued rebels of the middle districts. he’d always questioned it; like, would they not be easy to spot, easy to pluck from the normal people and place in their proper places of gallows and cells? evidently, such a line of thought was too simple, too idealistic; here you are, right in front of him, speaking in tones that could only be described as vulgar, illegal.

this thought, soonyoung admits with reluctance, is strangely exciting.

“you smell like whisky,” you murmur when soonyoung comes home from meeting his three closest friends. drinking alcohol is frowned upon, for sure, but not illegal. not for him. still, he feels a sort of guilt tug at his spine. a magical power of yours, that; making him squirm and question everything he’s been so sure of before. you divert your gaze, stare out the window. your voice is nothing but a murmur when you open your mouth again; “must be nice.”

bitterness does not make itself scarce in your expression, nor in your tone, and soonyoung’s jaw tightens. “do you want some?”

he surprises himself by being completely serious. you twist your head back to look at him, watches as he produces a half full bottle of burning, brown liquid from the bag slung over his shoulder. looking for the signs of a test, no doubt; for any traces of challenge. you blink, surprised to find none, soonyoung supposes. he steps quickly over to the cabinet, finds two glasses there and sits himself down on the chair left of yours. you do not take your eyes off of him, not as he shifts to make himself comfortable, not as he pours the liquid into the two glasses.

the only sound in the room is that of whisky being poured, the only smell the strong stench of liquor. he’ll break this one law, he thinks, without giving it too much of a thought. you’ve already presented your cards, already complained and opposed, already made yourself vulnerable. he hopes, with a thud of his heart, that you won’t make him regret this lapse of judgement.

you hum, reach for the glass, twirl the liquid around in the clear glass. “might as well,” you relent at last. “maybe alcohol is what it takes to make this district survivable.”

soonyoung chokes on whisky.

“you’re quite bold,” he murmurs, not without reluctant admiration in his voice. “what’s to stop me from reporting you to the enforcers?”

you tilt your head, watch him with dangerous eyes. “ah,” you breathe, lean your head against the knuckles of your hand. “to the rebellious future enforcer choi seungcheol?” you tap your fingers against your cheekbone, lip curling into something not quite – but close, very close – a smile. amber liquid swirls around the glass, splashes against the rims in something that soonyoung can’t describe as anything but a show of power. “or to boo seungkwan, future brainwasher in command?”

it could be a coincidence that those are the names you choose to mention, of course, but there’s cleverness visible in the arch of your brows, and when you sit back upright in the chair, it’s with the intimidating, powerful aura of any high judge soonyoung has ever met. people used to say – at least people say that people used to say – that men went for women who reminded them of their mothers. of course, people don’t say it anymore; men do not go for women at all, they let the soulmate system choose for them. but in that moment, soonyoung thinks he understands what people used to mean.

“leverage,” you tell him, chug down the last bit of whisky in your glass, looks very little like the image of a ‘proper lady’ that soonyoung has grown up with. you put the glass down on the flat surface of the table, bring your hands up in front of your face, curl your fingers into a fist and flick your wrists in a gesture that soonyoung recognizes only because he’s done it himself countless times. “vroom vroom,” you add, as if he needs the audio to understand what you’re implying. a shiver climb soonyoung’s spine, makes his head tingle. “that’s why you’re not going to report me to the enforcers.”

he stares, throat thick with something that feels a hell of a lot like fear. it’s not something soonyoung feels particularly often, not since he lived with his parents. not since they shut down his dance studio and interrogated him for suspicions of rebellion. he hadn’t been one, then. sometimes he wonders if that was what did it. maybe he’ll ask what you think; you seem to be an expert on the subject of resistance.

“don’t look so shocked,” you murmur, tone a hair’s breadth from mockery. “you always smell like gasoline.”

____________________

“my mother wants to have us over for dinner,” he tells you, watches as you try to keep your emotions under wraps. soonyoung might not have known you for very long, might not actually know you very well at all despite your name tattooed at the top of his wrist, but he recognizes your tells, by now. a twitch at the edge of your lips, a quick, tense rise of your shoulders. to your credit, you do not break eye contact.

things have been… different, since the evening he shared his whisky with you. for one, soonyoung can’t quite help looking over his back when he leaves to ride his bike, can’t help the feeling that you’re always watching. and second, you’ve been far less hostile, though still as loud and assertive in your trash talk. he wouldn’t call it friendly, would hesitate even over ‘amicable’. but he feels it is a win, nonetheless. third, it happens again. it becomes a pattern. for weeks, soonyoung shares his whisky with you, until the bottle is empty and the distance returns.

he knows this, though; there is no mistaking the wave of absolute disgust that paints your otherwise pretty face at the mention of his mother.

he imagines what she must represent to you; a woman born in freedom, who willingly, gladly traded her — and in some small part, every other woman in palatium’s — rights away for a place in the new elite. soonyoung’s father was a nobody before; barely even worthy of living in the high district. soonyoung’s mother, on the other hand, created the soulmate method of marriages. for that, she’s allowed some small, secret perks. books, food, alcohol. clearance to the golden circle. except, soonyoung suspects, it’s not as secret as the elite might think.

“why are you staring at me?” you question at last, defiance blatant and on display in both your tone and your expression. “surely i, the subservient wife, have no say in matters like these.”

“you’re anything but subservient,” soonyoung mutters, mostly to himself. the glare you shoot him is enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand. he clears his throat. “i can make up an excuse,” he tells you; the reason he brought it up in the first place. a choice. soonyoung is starting to realize that even in his perpetual state of nodding his head and playing along, he’s taken his freedom for granted. “if you don’t want to go.”

you inhale through your nose, stare at soonyoung from your position by the kitchen counter. in truth, soonyoung had considered not even bringing the invite up, had considered just politely declining the offer and continue putting the inevitable encounter off. but then he’d remembered the bitter commentary you’d made during one of your illicit evenings of soft buzzes and heated almost-arguments; the biting comments about your lack of choices.

he kinda wishes he could have presented you with a better one.

“no,” you tell him, quieter than he expects. he never seems to quite get used to the few and far between moments where you don’t seem to get sick at the mere sight of him. “no, it’s fine,” you sigh, drag a hand through your hair, can’t seem to settle on somewhere to look. “let’s just get it over with.”

____________________

he catches you eyeing the bookcase in the hallway of his mother’s home; something that looks like a cross between envy and resignation ghosting over your features. he wouldn’t even have noticed, had he not been looking for it.

he hopes no one else notices.

“soonyoung, darling,” soonyoung mother enthuses, brings her arms around his neck to envelop him in a bone crushing hug. to the uninitiated onlooker, it must seem like a heartwarming reunion; a mother and a son together again. soonyoung knows better, though, has been on the receiving end of his mother’s overbearing affection enough times to know the truth behind it. soonyoung’s mother might not have a whole lot of power, despite her innovative ideas and her rows and rows of books, but she sure knows how to assert it.

the word for it used to be ‘matriarch’, he knows. of course, that word has disappeared into the box of forgotten things, just like ‘actress’ and ‘queen’.

“it’s good to see you again, my boy,” she goes on, pats soonyoung’s shoulders with long fingers, their nails painted red. a bold move, that, considering nail polish is supposed to be outlawed. then again, rules never seemed to work the same way for the people residing in the golden circle. “and your wife is here as well,” she says at last, notes your presence as one would make note of a new haircut, a new pair of shoes. specifically, a less favorable haircut. soonyoung clears his throat uncomfortably. you refuse to respond.

(it’s the start of a very slow, very painful dinner.)

soonyoung’s mother, despite her active role in the marriage, seems adamant in her blatant ignoring of your presence.

“how’s everything going so far?” she asks, eyes trained right on her son. soonyoung feels the need to hide, to fill his mouth with potatoes and steak and hinder himself from being able to talk.

“it’s going fine, mother,” he replies vaguely, cowers from her inquisitive glare. he glances instead to his right, where you’re picking at your own food, eyes fixed on your maltreated potato. soonyoung’s mother hums, as if that answer has something secret hidden between the words that only she understands.

“it’s been three months,” she goes on, swirls a glass of something that looks like red wine between her fingers. “can i expect grandchildren soon?”

never one for small talk, that woman.

soonyoung hears, somehow, how you stiffen in your chair, the very mention of children a sore, taboo subject between the two of you. you’ll talk, at length, about the unfairness of society and your distaste for the inner circle, but you tastefully avoid subjects that pertain to your marriage, or the expectations that come with it. a part of your newfound almost-amicable relationship, soonyoung suspects.

“only time will tell,” he murmurs, feels two sets of intimidating female gazes heavy on him. he takes a large gulp of his whisky.

she hums again. “she’s not getting any younger, you know. the true purpose of the woman is to provide the man with a child.”

soonyoung doesn’t dare looking over at you. he’s sure the expression he’d find there would be enough to make him sweat. he’s always known that his mother was a bit of an extremist, even as far as the elite goes. he knows his mother is the very definition of a true believer. somehow, these things had been much easier to ignore before. he opens his mouth – to agree? to protest? he doesn’t know – but his mother chooses that moment to address you, finally, directly.

“isn’t that right, dear?” she asks sweetly. the following silence feels sort of like a death sentence. soonyoung wants to intervene. he doesn’t.

“of course,” you reply, voice flat and submissive in a whole nother way than how he’s used to. your subservience has been a mockery, before, a sort of inside joke on soonyoung’s expense, a proof of your opposition. there’s nothing of that present now, and when he finally manages to force his gaze over to your seat, your face is deathly pale. you still have not touched your food, but you still have the distinct expression of someone with a bad taste in their mouth.

you do not speak again the rest of the night.

____________________

after the dinner at soonyoung’s mother’s, there’s a tangible, heavy silence hanging over the kwon jr. household. you won’t speak to him, not when he buys a new bottle of whisky and tries to lure you into the sitting room to join him, not when he starts dropping small hints about his adventures during the night.

not even when he wakes up extra early to try – and horribly fail at – making you breakfast do you say a word to him, though you do push him aside to try and salvage the burnt eggs stuck to the dark pan on the stove. soonyoung feels helpless, in a completely unfamiliar, overwhelming sort of way. he’s always seen himself as a pretty empathetic person, even when being empathetic was not a good thing to be. he buried it when he had to, but it was always there, tucked inside his ribcage.

he’s not sure ‘empathy’ is enough to adequately describe how he feels as he watches you flitter around the house like a ghost.

it seems to boil over inside of you, five days after the dinner. he returns from watching mingyu fight in the underground, the smell of gasoline and of cigarettes sticking to his clothing and tugging at his skin. he loosens his tie and slinks up the stairs towards the bedroom. he doesn’t expect you to be awake.

you twist your head around when he enters, look at him with the same dead sort of gaze that has been haunting him for days and days now. the familiar feeling that’s not quite empathy, that tastes an awful lot like guilt, tugs on his chest. he used to think you were very loud. maybe that’s just another one of those things he took for granted.

you rise from your side of the bed, dressed only in your pale, white nightgown, and take a few determined steps towards him. you grasp at the front of his shirt, fingers doing quick work of his top buttons. soonyoung panics at your sudden aggression, takes a rushed, clumsy step back, but you only follow, wordlessly, keep working on the buttons of his clothes.

“hold– hold on,” he stutters, tries to grasp at your hands. you only press further, until he’s backed up against the door, eyes focused on the shirt and on the skin revealed by every button you undo. “what the hell are you doing?” your head snaps up at that, gaze hard and mouth set in a thin line. soonyoung feels exposed, vulnerable, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“my job,” you reply, with a voice that sounds both eerily like your own and someone else’s entirely. you grip at the fabric of his shirt, try to pull it off of his shoulders. soonyoung’s own fly up to wrap around your elbows to stop you. “a woman’s only purpose is to provide her husband with children, and all that.”

“i don’t–” soonyoung starts, doesn’t quite know how to continue the sentence. i don’t think that. i don’t want that. somehow he doesn’t think any of the options would be particularly soothing, despite his efforts. your fingernails dig into his clothes, make crescent moons along the skin of his chest. it looks like you can’t decide whether to cry or to scream.

“do you know what happens to women who refuses to sleep with their husbands?” you ask, a sort of pathetic, fragile stuntedness to your voice. your fingers are still tightly clutched at the front of his unbuttoned shirt. they shiver; in fear or anger, soonyoung doesn’t know. “they get sent to the lower districts, branded for being ‘barren’.” soonyoung circles his hands around your wrists, tries to pull your hands away. your grip at his clothes tighten, and you stare him right in the eyes. “of course, most of the time it won’t come to that, because men have the habit of taking what they want whether the woman want it or not.”

there’s no word for it anymore, but the old one, the one that starts with an r, still echoes in the back of soonyoung’s head. he feels sick, feels the impulse to push you away from him and run away. his throat feels thick, mouth full of ashes.

“that won’t happen to you here,” he says, voice kept stable only by the conviction with which he says it. he presses his thumbs into your skin. your head is bowed; in shame or in disbelief, soonyoung can’t know. “nothing you don’t want will happen as long as i’m here.” he lets go of your wrists and they fall limply to your side. he takes hold of your face, feels ridiculously bold for doing so, guides your face up so you can see how much he means what he’s saying. somehow, he feels more honest than he’s done ever before. “i swear i’ll do anything to make you happy.”

in the old time, the time when you married someone you loved rather than someone whose genes matched your own, they used to have these beautiful ceremonies. soonyoung remembers overhearing talks about them during meetings when he was a child. something he always was especially entranced by was the concept of ‘vows’, of promises to keep and to honor. they got scrapped for something far more technical, of course, but the idea was especially appealing to soonyoung. this one will have to do, he thinks. there’s not a lot more he can promise, considering the circumstances. your eyes are wet. he finds that he wants to press his lips to your forehead.

he doesn’t. instead, he says, “i’ll sleep on the couch tonight. please get some rest.” and he leaves the room. he hears a sob through the door, and he swears something inside him cracks painfully.

and that is why he ends up in front of his mother’s bookcase once again a mere week later.

____________________

“what’s this?” you ask when he puts the book down in front of you on the table. soonyoung feels strangely disconnected to his own body; almost as if he’s standing in the corner of the room, watching himself present you with the book. people have gone to jail for less than this; people have been hanged.

but then, he participates in illegal races at night, attends betting matches in the underground once a month. he tells himself that’s why despite the rush of fear coursing through his veins, soonyoung does not hesitate once to give you the worn paperback. “it’s a book,” he replies lamely; knows it’s a mistake as soon as the words fall out of his mouth.

“obviously,” you bite back, the exclamation almost more a hiss than a word. soonyoung knows better than to talk down to you, by now, but he finds that old habits are hard to break. and you’ve been tense ever since visiting his mother, too, much easier to anger. he wonders if you still hear her words in your head when you close your eyes. the thought makes him nauseous. “what am i supposed to do with it? fold paper cranes?”

soonyoung blinks, gaze falling down to where your fingers lie curled and interlaced with each other on the surface of the table. you have pretty hands, he notice; prettier than he would have expected from the middle district. “can you?” he looks back up at your face, finds you squinting in his direction as if you’re loathe to even look at him. “i mean–” he amends, clears his throat. sits down on the chair on your left, folds his hands. he can’t quite look you in the eyes. “you want to learn to read, don’t you?”

you blink; scrunch up your nose as if in disbelief and mouth pulled down in a very distinct frown. soonyoung thinks you might be trying to play down how true his assumption is, but the light dust of red that appears at your cheekbones give you away. soonyoung feels awkward, as if his mouth is full of syrup. “i’ll teach you,” he tries, desperately needs for you to react in any way at all. when you don’t, he swallows, breathes out heavily. “if you want?”

it seems as if you’re silent for an eternity; trust still non-existent and doubt still lingering in every corner of your shared home and in every line of your face. hesitant fingers reach out to touch the front of the book, almost as if you’re afraid of breaking it. there a small twitch at the edges of your lips that might be a smile.

“thank you,” you whisper, and something in soonyoung’s chest seems to bloom.

(it becomes a routine. soonyoung points out letters, pronunciations, coaches you through the longer words and sentences. sometimes you’ll make attempts at reading entire pages out loud, eager to learn and thirsty for knowledge. sometimes he’ll read to you in bed, almost too distracted by the new sort of closeness and the way your eyes flit over the pages to even know what he’s reading.

it’s just a simple novel; a story he’d been obligated to read multiple times in school, but you eat it up, entranced by every word. one night you fall asleep with your head against his shoulder. that night, he’s supposed to meet up with seungcheol, mingyu and seungkwan for a race.

he finds that he can’t quite get himself to move.)

____________________

you’re a quick learner. much quicker than soonyoung was, much more proficient than he could ever hope to be. he tries to tell himself that the sense of pride that comes with your impressive learning curve is an innocent thing. tries to tell himself that the way he leans back and focuses fully on your voice, on the way your fingers clutch at the coarseness of paper doesn’t have anything to do with the soft tingle in the pit of his stomach.

“they work so hard to maintain this intellectual high ground over the lower regions,” you rattle on, uncaring for the fact that soonyoung can’t keep up even if he tried. probably you could make anything and everything into an hour long rant, he thinks, but not without affection. “‘the poor can’t be smart, they lack the education’, ‘women can’t be equal, can’t have any substantial thoughts; they can’t even read!’” you run a finger along the spine of the book. when soonyoung follows your finger, he notices that it’s shaking. your words sounds an awful lot like what he used to learn to be treason when he was a child; but then soonyoung is starting to realize that you commit treason with every intake of breath, every twitch of your brow.

then maybe he’s a traitor, too, for being so engulfed, so committed; for the way he hangs on to your every word as if they were holy. he’s surprisingly okay with that thought.

“but the elite are the ones keeping education away from us,” your finger stops moving, and soonyoung forces his gaze up to your face, pauses at the pinkness of your cupid’s bow, at the arch of your nose. every day, he’s finding details in your face that he wants to jot down in his journal, commit eternally to memory.

“honestly,” he murmurs. “even without the education, you’re probably ten times smarter than me.” it’s easier now, to spill sacrilege from his lips, to disregard his teachings for these secret truths between a man and his wife. sometimes he has to look over his shoulder before saying them, too scared of a housekeeper peeping or an enforcer storming the doors. it’s more worth it each time he does it; genuine smiles painted on your features as a reward for his morsels of genuiness.

you hum quietly, something dangerous flickering in your eyes. “that’s actually a pretty popular theory.”

“that women are smarter than men?” soonyoung finds the claim far less outrageous now than he would have six months ago. it’s impossible to be as staunch and sure as men are supposed to be in their own superiority, when he is so overexposed to your brilliance.

“no,” you reply with a laugh. “that i’m smarter than you. specifically.”

a joke, soonyoung registers. like the ones his father used to tell at dinners and during house parties. though, kwon sr. used to prefer the jokes about sex traitors, about women in high positions. soonyoung’s mother’s lip used to be very tight during these loud retellings. soonyoung finds that he prefers your joke; one that’s private and that puts you on a pedestal rather than pushes you down, that makes you refer to him as a friend rather than someone you’re stuck with.

he also finds that he wants to kiss you. that feeling he buries.

____________________

“soonyoung,” you murmur one night, quietly and carefully from your side of the bed. the divide has gotten smaller, for sure, but there’s still something invisible and terrible that seems to keep you sleeping with your back against him, that keeps him from daring to reach out and touch your hair while you sleep. he opens one eye, peers at you while you twist around in the bed to face him. he can barely make out your silhouette in the darkness, but he still knows exactly what you must look like.

“what is it?” he prompts when you seem to be hesitating. you exhale, and he feels the air on his face, resists the urge to shiver.

“you said–” you pause, shift slightly on the bed. he thinks you’re embarrassed, somehow. “you said you’d do anything,” you don’t finish the sentence, don’t need to. maybe the word ‘happy’ is too foreign on your tongue. soonyoung’s skin tingles. “did you mean it?”

“yes,” he replies, doesn’t even stop for a second to reconsider. truths never used to fall out of him so easily before. nothing is quite like before, he feels, with a sort of terrifying warmth at the pit of his stomach. you must be gathering up the courage to ask for something, he realizes. “is there?” he asks. “something i can do?”

silence. for one, two, three– “take me out,” you whisper, almost reluctantly; as if you have to force the request out of your mouth. “on your bike.”

soonyoung sits up, and you follow; the bed jiggling under the sudden movements. his first thought is to refuse, to protest. too daring, too dangerous, too many risks. but as his eyes adjust to the darkness and he’s able to see your face more clearly he sees the uncertain, bare expression that lingers there, and he finds that refusal is an impossibility. so instead, he whispers back, “okay. now?” watches with delight as the tension leaves your body and is replaced by relief.

“please.”

(he holds your hand as he drags you after him to the garage where soonyoung and his friend keeps their bikes, can’t help looking back every so often to remind himself how your fingers intertwined looks. something scary, something amazing sizzles underneath his skin. he knows what it is, but somehow he can’t quite remember the name.)

he doesn’t take you to the underground where the nightly fights are held, nor does he show you the streets everyone use for races. somehow, he doesn’t think that’s what you’re really interested in, even with how much you’ve probed him about it. instead, he takes you to a secluded hill, his private, secret little spot. it’s not much; nothing really is anymore, but it’s more than the house, more than the dull, brown walls you’re used to staring at.

your neck cranes backwards as you take in the sight; bends so far back that soonyoung has to instinctively put a hand at your back to make sure you don’t fall over. the stars are bright, here; twinkling and clear and alive in a way that soonyoung haven’t been able to spot anywhere else. sometimes you’ll gasp, or inhale as if you haven’t been able to breathe for months, and when you turn to thank him, the shimmer of your eyes seem to outshine every star in the night sky.

(love, he realizes, as you’re holding onto him, arms wrapped securely around his torso as you head back to the garage. the feeling is called love.)

“soonyoung,” you call after him when you’re back in the house, stopping in the middle of the hallway. soonyoung swears he’ll never get used to how his name sounds in your voice. he turns around, takes note of the uncertain look in your eyes. “i’m–” you frown, take a step towards him. for a moment, you seem to weigh your options, to ponder how to go about whatever it is you’re trying to express. an inhale, an exhale. “ah, fuck it.” and then–

then your lips are on his, his face pulled forcefully to meet yours. your fingertips claw at his face, body pressing itself against him, and for a second soonyoung thinks his brain might have exploded. you tug at his face again, urge him to either respond or pull away.

soonyoung chooses the first option. he grabs your hips, digs his fingers into the fabric of your clothes and pull at your body as if he’d die without the contact. your mouth opens, tongue slipping out to lick at his mouth, and soonyoung groans, feels the vibrations of it through his whole body. he takes a few steps, presses you against the wall, and you bite down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. soonyoung can’t decide if the sensation is painful or pleasurable, he can’t remember his own last name. all he knows is that you rotate your hips, grinds against him in a way that makes him dizzy.

“upstairs,” you pant, and soonyoung takes the opportunity to explore your neck; bites and nibs at your skin and relishes in the reactions it gives him. your exhales are loud, shaky, and your fingers burrow into his shoulder in what seems more like a steadying action than anything else. “bed,” you add, as if you’ve forgotten how to construct proper sentences.

here, soonyoung falters. “you don’t have to–” he says, voice hoarse with something he can’t describe as anything but ‘lust’. another sin to add to the tally, he supposes. he pulls his head back, searching your face for anything to imply that you’re acting out of a sense of obligation. he finds your cheeks; reddened beyond anything he’s ever seen before. he finds your mouth; already swollen and hot pink against your skin. he finds your eyes; wild and alive and more than ever reminding him of the night full of stars.

he does not, however, see any doubt. still, he feels the need to reiterate; “i don’t expect anything.”

you laugh, at that, a breezy, easy thing that sounds almost like a symphony. you take his face between your hands, squish his cheeks and press a chaste, quick kiss to his lips.

“i know. i want to.”

and there’s something in the almost prideful way you say that, that you emphasize the word ‘want’, that makes soonyoung think he couldn’t ever deny you anything.

____________________

soonyoung stares. he leans on his arm, fingers splayed against soft linens and body cushioned by thick duvets. on the other side of the bed, you’re sleeping.

before – that is to say, before you realized that soonyoung was not your enemy, that he could even be your ally – you used to sleep with a body language so tight and rigid that soonyoung sometimes wondered if you ever actually slept at all. fully clothed in your heavy dresses and knotted corsets, arms stiff and legs curled at the very edge of the bed. it almost felt like sharing sleeping quarters with a heavy, big stone.

the sight that now greets him every morning before he has to leave to perform the mundane tasks that are expected of him, is something almost bizarrely opposite; something that makes his head spin even when he’s seen it time after time after time. your arms are stretched across the bed, reaching for the warmth of the space that soonyoung occupied mere minutes ago. sunlight puts an impossible sort of glow over your exposed skin and makes the back of soonyoung’s neck tingle. he reaches out, curls a lock of your hair around his finger.

a calculated mistake, so to speak. your eyes open. a slow, lazy action; even waking up has become a completely new, changed thing, unrecognizable in contrast to the eyes-wide-open, fully alerted way soonyoung has become accustomed to.

for a moment you just watch him, impassively; eyes barely open and fingers clutching at the white linens right by soonyoung’s thigh. you do not lean after his touch, nor away from it. this new, tentative closeness between you feels fragile at all times, and soonyoung worries, not for the first time, if he’s crossed a line.

“are you staring at me?” you ask, sleepiness tugging at your vocal chords. the sound makes soonyoung’s chest tighten with something he doesn’t quite recognize. it’s a warm, fuzzy feeling. the tip of soonyoung’s tongue tastes of the same illegal, dangerous thing that seems to surround everything involving you. soonyoung feels a surge of courage sizzling through his veins, lets his hand disappear fully into the mess of your hair. your eyes flutter close, a low rumble of a hum slipping past your lips.

“yes,” he admits, his thumb flitting along your cheekbone. your eyes open again, observe him carefully. soonyoung has known, probably ever since he started teaching you how to read, ever since you started letting your guard down and your mouth speak freely, that he is in love with you. he’d told you as much; that he’d do anything to ensure your happiness. he feels it now, though, harder and clearer than ever before in the pale sunlight and the soft glow that surrounds you both. it almost feels like peace, like freedom. “i love you.”

you inhale, raise your hand to glide along his thigh and reach for his burgunder tie. the silence feels overwhelming. and then you tug, almost forcefully enough to make soonyoung fall over you. he has to catch himself with his arms, cages you in between them, and your fingers reach, clutch at his face. he feels your breath over his mouth, and the anticipation is almost as deliriously wonderful as when your lips finally connect with his own.

the first kiss you shared, technically, was at your wedding. it was a standard procedure sort of thing; a nod back to other times where marriages were a free, voluntary thing. just the barest touch of lips against lips. you’d grimaced afterwards, and soonyoung had pretended not to noticed.

the second time– soonyoung can’t quite stop thinking about the second time. he finds that he struggles to put a name to it, to the rush of emotion and stress and confusion and relief, to the mess of it all. it had been a beginning, he now knows, though at the time he’d felt so overwhelmed that he’d thought it was an ending.

this; this lazy, casual press of lips, makes every nerve underneath soonyoung’s skin do somersaults. your arms wind around his neck, he lets himself fall against your body and against the softness of the bed, noses squished together and fingertips itching to touch. your own fingers move to ruffle his hair, to undo every attempt he’d made at making himself look presentable before leaving the house. he finds that he struggles to care.

“soonyoung,” you murmur, just a hair’s breadth away from him. he feels the vibrations of your voice through his entire body, shivers with the way his name sounds coming from your mouth. “i’m not–” here, you falter, and soonyoung’s throat feels constricted. you watch him, for a moment, fingers gliding along the skin of his face as if you’re trying to commit every line to memory. “i’m not bringing a child into this world.”

soonyoung’s breath stutters. even with the vagueness of the statement, the meaning is clear. he might have been the one to teach you how to read, but you’ve taught him how to read between the lines. hesitation twinkles in your eyes when soonyoung fails to immediately respond. he leans back in, presses his lips against yours; quickly, with an intake of breath. “i guess,” he murmurs, peppers your face with kisses. his hand clutches at the fabric of your shirt, right above your stomach.

“we have to make some changes to it, then.”

#svt imagines #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 10 months

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book 7 part 4 thoughts!!

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7, PART 4 OF THE MAIN STORY!!***

Usually I would put this in bullet points, but I have so many thoughts that I have to format it as paragraphs. (If you’d like to watch a rough part-by-part summarized translation, please check out this archived stream!)

Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

LILIA'S SO DIFFERENT 🤡 His voice is deeper, and he speaks more gruffly. He definitely comes off as more combative and having disdain for humans. HE'S POPPING OFF ABOUT HOW BAD SILVER/SEBEK/GRIM ARE AT MAGIC??? Damn, what happened in the following years to make him change????

The contrast between current Lilia telling Silver "there's nothing left for me to teach you" and past Lilia being like, "there's nothing for me to teach you, are you trying to make fun of me?"

The human faction they're fighting at the moment are the Silver Owls!! There are also people who dress in iron (a metal which harms fae in irl mythology), I'm not sure if they are synonymous with the Silver Owls or not.

IHBFIOASBFIAADSI LORD, THE FAE SOLDIERS ARE ALL MIDDLE SCHOOL NEKO GIRLS HISSING AT US

AYO, SEBEK GRANDPA REVEAL????? ??? ? ? ????? BAL/BAAL/BAUL REAL, I CAN SEE WHERE SEBEK GETS HIS LOOKS AND HIS PERSONALITY FROM

Silver's asking to team up with Lilia and his group (Lilia was about to just leave them there because he's concerned with the Silver Owls setting up camp at the base of the mountain)? Bruh, book 1 we're calming down an angry classmate and book 7 is like, HEY KIDS LET'S TAKE A FIELD TRIP INTO AN ACTIVE WAR ZONE.

Silver's hoping to shock him awake via a fight, here comes a Sebek and Silver tag team battle!! RIP Lilia beats them up a little :v (Sebek. Don't fanboy over his strength, WE ARE FIGHTING FOR OUR LIVES HERE)

Oop, they disorient him with light and Lilia's mask off!! It's treated like a big reveal????? Sorry, but how does Yuu not notice this is Lilia automatically 😅

Lilia voice) you are not my son (and here you can hear Silver's heart breaking/j)

Oh boy, we get to be prisoners of war/j

NOT LILIA ASKING SILVER AND SEBEK HOW THEY KNOW HOW TO FIGHT SO WELL WHEN IT WAS LILIA WHO TRAINED THEM TO BEGIN WITH

"Fae don't go back on their word" AH SO THEY LIKE TO KEEP PROMISES EH

"May the night bless you" seems to be some kind of salute for nocturnal fae?

LOL Lilia's against being called a father OTL THE IRONY HERE IS SO STRONG

Not Sebek's grandpa telling them off for not showing Lilia respect and saying how great he is... Fanboy genes run in the family/j

DOES YUU STILL THINK THIS IS A PERIOD DRAMA OR SOMETHING

BAAL IS CALLING SEBEK A HUMAN KEK

BAL/BAAL/BAUL REAL DROPS THE CROC MASK???? ?? ?? ?? ? He's got SCALES instead of facial hair???? ???? ? ? Oh man, he reminds me so much of Seteth FE3H OTL The scales are a signature trait of the Zigvolt line! Sebek says his mom has the same scales.

NO NOT SEBEK HAVING TO CONFESS THAT HIS DAD BEING HUMAN, IS THIS THE START OF HIS CHARACTER ARC

LILIA TOLD BAAL TO BABYSIT US...

AW Sebek's so excited about seeing his grandpa in his prime... I'm happy seeing Sebek happy OTL

Lilia's dreaming about the past... I wonder if it's because he was thinking about his life and what he has achieved before leaving his loved ones with his legacy...

Lilia first got the invite to NRC 500 years ago??? So NRC has been around much longer than we expected.

Ahhhh, crap 🤡 The return of book 6 limited battles but now with a battle map. There is a new mechanic where HP carries over from each battle; if a card's HP gets knocked to 0, you cannot use them. (5 cards be restored at random if you get to a heart space on the battle map.)

SEBEK'S ACTING AS OUR OLD FAE SPEECH TRANSLATOR (He's throwing his own angry commentary in, which is hilarious)

The humans arrived on a boat ~100 years ago. Now they have a settlement in the east and are mining around Briar Valley + taking the fae's natural resources. (I think this is why Mystium, that shape-shifting magic green ore that Lilia's weapon is made of, is no longer as plentiful; it was likely mined into obscurity.)

Magical creatures are now coming down from the mountain and causing trouble in Briar villages; the fairies cannot handle all of this. Damn, this is just the plot to the first Shrek movie 😂 They're invading Shrek's swamp--

Oh, interesting! So there are different kinds of fae language (depending on the type of fae they are; think of the diurnal fae from Fairy Gala speaking in bell tinkles), but they infuse their voices with magic so they can understand one another. In modern Briar Valley, there is a common tongue. Omg, Sebek speaks it with his mom and grandma! BILINGUAL KING, HE'S SO PROUD OF HIMSELF... Silver tried to learn from Lilia, but he struggled with it; Sebek's dad had the same issue so the problem must be that human ears cannot pick up on the same range of sounds as fae ears can. This is true of real life as well; different creatures have different auditory thresholds and auditory detection ranges.

Bruh, not Lilia sending out literal children to fight for him on the battlefield...

Eh, new character named??? Some human soldiers are talking about Henrich?? Henrik??? Henric??? He's a commander of the Silver Owls who is conceited and dumps his work onto his subordinates. Errrr he apparently also has a little sister named Leia? Lea??? Leah???? Who is rumored to be in a relationship with someone called the Dawn Knight.

More interesting lore????? Kind of???? Some pixies (small fae) come and warn Lilia about something up ahead, then heal them too. This is notable since in Fairy Gala: What If, we learn that diurnal fae (which I believe pixies are) and nocturnal fae (which Lilia and Sebek appear to be) do not like each other. It seems they got along well enough in the past to confront a common enemy?

They reach a Silver Owl camp!! ... Aaand Lilia tells his soldiers to boot them out so they can take over the camp. I mean, it IS technically the fae's land to begin with, so. Uhhhh, yeah I think I'm with Lilia on this one 💦

I don't think iron affects fae negatively in Twisted Wonderland?? Lilia and co. are having no trouble fighting them even when the humans are clad in iron armor.

HMMMM they've named dropped a formidable person on the human side called the Dawn Knight (Lilia mentions them once, then the human soldiers do). The Dawn Knight is the captain of the Silver Owls and even Lilia considers them a strong opponent. Methinks they'll become a key player later...

OH NOOOO 😭 Sebek’s like, “let’s change this fate!!” but since it’s just a dream, reality won’t be altered at all… Then Sebek suggests just. Staying in the dream???? Which makes darkness spawn… The light from Silver’s ring thing (the trinket he got from Lilia as a sign that he is now a full fledged adult) protects them???

Silver fears the dream will tempt him to stay too 😭 He asks Yuu to snap him “awake” if it ever comes to that… Silver, sweet boy… OTL

NOT SILVER AND SEBEK JUMPING IN TO STOP LILIA FROM COOKING FOR THEM (Come to think of it, how have Lilia's soldiers survive this far with him cooking for them???? ?? ??? ?? ?? )

LILIA THINKING THEY'RE GOING TO POISON THEM, THAT'S SO JAMIL ENERGY

Omg... They're acknowledging their Master Chef training (this is the only time they've referenced events in the main story, if I recall correctly)... Silver even prepares a risotto for them all~ (His own favorite food is mushroom risotto, so I like to think of it as he's sharing a piece of himself with the fae.)

asldiuhaodasidba Lilia complaining about the tiny portions in fine dining...

SEBEK PREPARING A ROAST CHICKEN FOR THEM, they're going all out for this one meal??? ? ? ??? ? ?? Poor Sebek though 😭Baal refuses to eat anything Sebek made, he'd rather starve or eat rations than a human's cooking...

AW BAAL BOUGHT SEBEK BOOKS????? And encouraged his love for reading... 😭

Grim taking Baal's portion of food... (Of course... Did we really have any doubts about that?) Sebek really did get his attitude from Baal... Now Baal's going, "Gimme my food back!" after Grim started digging into it... And then Baal has three entire helpings of risotto... THEY HAVE THE SAME INTIMIDATING-YET-ALSO-PATHETIC VIBES

AYO SILHOUETTE FOR MALLEUS'S MOM????? Her name is (Princess) Mallenoa, the only daughter of Maleficia (Malleus's grandma). She lives at a separate palace and commands the military. Lilia also describes her as being extremely powerful, fickle, stubborn, selfish, and easy to anger. He's just tossing out allllllll the adjectives ahdbayodqdq

Ah, so it sounds like humans greatly outnumber the fae??? So they're at a disadvantage. Normally a royal would handle diplomatic stuff like this but for some reason Lilia is being sent? They're traveling on foot to deliver a message to the human encampment to the east; the last messenger (that travelled there via magic?) did not return. Ominous...

Fae nobility are repulsed by the smell of iron? I'm confused, are fae in TWST impacted by iron or not????

Aww, Silver... He's asking his dad to come to school not to learn, but to make special memories there 🥺 Back to "our Night Raven College"...

NOOO NOW THEY'RE FLASHING THROUGH ALL THE DORMS... while Silver and Sebek monologue about how everyone at NRC is very different, but despite how weird they all are, there is a lot that can be learned from their differences. Silver's spreading what he learned from his dad... and the fact that even Sebek pitched in... 😭

Lilia voice) let's make these high school students our pack mules and unpaid chefs and if they fuck up we leave them for dead in these woods where there are monsters lurking about

Man, he's so ruthless????? Lilia will use anyone he can to succeed in his mission... But then the next second he lays into his princess with a smile www

Lilia knew the princess since they were kids ~300 years ago, which puts the current conflict at ~400 years ago from modern day (since present Lilia is ~700 years old).

asdjbasbldbasdi Gotta love the lowkey jabs at classic fairy tales... Lilia says that human princesses may need protecting but not theirs???? (Yet Mallenoa still stays in her castle all day like she's waiting for a prince.)

THE PRINCESS HAS AN EGG... MALLEUS????? IS THAT YOU???? ???? ????? ? ?? ? ? (LOL at Sebek calling it Tamago-sama asghdyqovywqdwp9qbpacpasb) JAHAJAAH BAAL SUS OF THEM BEING INTERESTED IN THE EGG????

Oooh, so dragon eggs only hatch after receiving enough love and magic from the parents??? (Otherwise the egg will not mature and hatch.) The "power of love" is real, you guys 🥺

ANOTHER new character name drop?????? Levan/Revan??? It's a fae that went missing (probably the messenger from earlier??) I-Is that. Is that Malleus's dad???????? (Lilia says that both the princess and Levan/Revan have been pushing their tasks onto him; he has known them both for a long ass time.)

Baal voice) I still don't trust you

Fandom, back at Baal: Sorry (grand)daddy. Sorry. (Grand)daddy? Sorry. (Grand)daddy? Sorry.

Malleus is 178 years old in current day even though his egg existed 400 years ago, so it seems there was a few hundred years of delay before he actually hatched (normally the egg would hatch in 2-3 years). That means Lilia was ~522 when Malleus hatched and ~683 when he found Silver as a newborn (Malleus was ~161). Silver and Sebek think it’s weird that the timeline does not add up; it means Malleus was dormant for quite a while?? Or is the dream world wonky to accommodate for a “happy ending”? Or maybe the history they know is not correct (since earlier in book 7 Lilia mentions how true history can be distorted over time.)

Very sus, apparently there is not a lot known about Briar Valley's history??? Lilia never talked about the past around Silver, and Baal did the same with Sebek. None of the books Sebek read really goes into that history either. In current day, the palace where Malleus's mom resided isn't even there anymore, it's just land. It suddenly became a mystery...

MAN, I've been wondering this whole time why Lilia's happy ending is wartime but maybe. This is the period where Malleus's parents both died???? Maybe his happy ending is saving them??? Instead of them dying and him having to live with the guilt of not being there to protect his friends and his future prince's parents???? (I previously thought it was during war that Malleus hatched and/or Lilia found Silver, but I guess the timeline doesn't make sense there.)

According to Silver, they cannot stray too far from dreamers or else the darkness will return and try to drag them into a deeper sleep.

asdhbasdobasdbas Sebek is SUPER hype to see baby Tamago-sama Malleus...

Sebek points out that Silver is not nodding off (good catch, I actually did not notice this because I was too busy screaming about the lore); sooo when Silver is dream walking, he's consistently alert. It looks like Silver's narcolepsy is an important detail??? (Lilia took him to lots of doctors that didn't know how to help him, Silver does whatever he can to sleep well and to have a sleep schedule.)

OH MY GOD, I DIDN'T REALIZE THAT YUU AND GRIM STILL DIDN'T KNOW LILIA IS SILVER'S DAD. They thought it was a friendly nickname this entire time??? Kind of late to get to that, but alright 😅 We have acquired the Forbidden Knowledge... (SEBEK'S MOM IS WAY OLDER THAN HIS DAD BUT LOOKS WAY YOUNGER?? I mean, I kind of expected that but to have it confirmed just hits different.)

One of the soldiers tells the kids to stfu so they can sleep and so Sebek yells at everyone to stop disturbing them (you know, in his LOUD AS HECK voice).

Water in the Briar Country is cold because it is located up north (it snows a lot!). The lake water usually comes from melted snow. Checks out, I guess?

They're packing up to leave the camp... Reminds me of Mulan!

[Insert boring trek to the Silver Owls' base. Interesting tidbit: some soldiers we run into comment that Silver resembles the Dawn Knight/they didn't know the Dawn Knight had a lover?????? So... that's obviously gotta be an ancestor of Silver's, right??? Also??? The Dawn Knight apparently never removes their helmet, even around subordinates... VERY SUS, SIR

NAYUUURx NOT SeBEK CAViNG TO THE DATKNESS 😭 I feel like??? This is a really big character development moment for him?? He’s always been pretty blindly loyal to Malleus and hateful of humans, but this marks the first time he willingly does something against Malleus’s will and he calls Yuu and Grim by name… Sebek, sweetie… 😭 (Side note: Silver’s been so strong-willed through all of this, but I’m glad that TWST showed he isn’t perfect and infallible; he, too, was tempted to stay in the dream when Sebek started to consider it too.)

bchsheoxndle Something else I enjoy is Baul being so… tsun?? He complains about the kids but keeps an eye out for them anyway (and Sebek in particular)… The paternal vibes are too immaculate to completely squash 😎]

They made it!! Finally!!

UHHHHH THEY'RE FIGHTING A BIG MACHINE AND. LILIA INSTINCTIVELY BLOCKS SILVER?? (He’ll be fine, he’s in his prime 😌)

Oop, Heinrich and the Dawn Knight were supposed to be in the eastern base but they aren't??? Oh no, it looks like. It was a diversion?????? While Lilia and co. are busy at the base, Heinrich launched an attack on the palace where Malleus's mom is???????

AND OF CORUSE THAT'S WHERE WE CUT OFF?????????? BRUH.

OKAY, so this entire update was focused just on Lilia's dream. We have no clue what's happening in Idia's dream or the real world with Ortho??? Which I'm totally fine with; I feel like we learned SO much about Briar Valley's history and important figures in it. That's a very fair trade-off. I loved getting to learn about the conflict between humans and fae, fae culture, and about how Briar Valley (or Country) works. I'm surprised that the characters themselves know so little about the history, but that just makes me worried that that's because it's a dark part of history that was purposefully censored from the textbooks...

There were a lot of new characters introduced in this part, most of them just mentioned by name or silhouette. It really feels like we walked right into the most dire part of a history textbook... So much tragedy has been set up, so many key players put into place... But being that this is Lilia's promised happy ending, surely he must reverse fate and save the day in the end????? Right? Right??? ?????? ?? ??? ? ? ? ? ? ?????? I have my eyes glued to the Draconia family lore and history, I'm READY to absorb it!

Something else I found really fascinating was learning more about Sebek this update! He still has a very arrogant attitude about him (that much hasn't changed), but I loved seeing how he acts different around his grandfather and how excited he gets over little things like seeing Malleus's egg. I think this part also marks the start to his character arc; he is constantly put down time and time again by his grandpa, someone whom he really loves. Sebek is used to his grandpa accepting him for who he is, but now his grandpa is shouting hateful rhetoric and discriminating against him for being half human. It's the same ugly behavior that Sebek slings to other people, but now the shoe's on the other foot and HE'S the victim in these situations. It must no doubt be extremely uncomfortable for Sebek, but it's also forcing him into a situation where he has to look at his own bigotry head-on, and it gives him a chance to reevaluate himself. It's similar to how Vil had to challenge Epel's outdated gender views even when Epel kicked up a fuss every time Vil did. asdhbsaisdbabdil I'm just really invested in Sebek's character arc!!

I think there's a high probability we'll see all of the silhouetted figures in full in a future update, it's clear that we'll eventually be rushing back to check on Malleus's mom at some point. I'm super interested in seeing how Malleus's parents, the Dawn Knight, Lilia, Baal, and Henrik tie together. (And, of course, we NEED to check in with the Shrouds as well.)

I have heard people say that Henrik may be a reference to King Henry from the live action Maleficent? Then that means that the Dawn Knight may be TWST's equivalent to Stefan/Stephan (Aurora's dad) and Henrik/Henric's little sister is Leah/Leia (Aurora's mom)??? Then I've heard other theories that since Malleus's dad vanished, we have no corpse to confirm he is for real dead and maybe he's actually Crowley who went off to buy some milk and never came back???? (Because “Levan” sounds like “raven” and you know who else is a black bird? CROWLEY. Is he. Is he really going to be the Ultimate Absentee Dad by pulling off his mask in front of Malleus and go, “Luke, I am your father” at him????) And then there's those of us who are drooling over new character designs and screaming about how hot Sebek's grandpappy is. Point is, there are so many wild parallels, theories, ideas, and thirst posts flying around right now. I love how this wild update reinvigorated the whole fandom into a new period of theory crafting and other creative works. asdhabsdasdbasdi Every new book 7 update gets more and more hype... I just hope we get part 5 in July!!! Super intrigued by the history of the Briar Valley~

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kerubimcrepin · 2 months

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Live-read: "Julith et Jahash" - Part 1

In the past, I said that I would wait for a translation that is currently in the making in the russian fandom. However, because I am weak, and want to keep this blog going asap, I lied. (This liveblog will be very slow due to this, so be warned.)

This comic will let us understand Joris better... while literally all of his personality, morals, body language, and tastes, are a product of Kerubim, — this might shed light on A. family history, that might dictate his physiology (what if Julith randomly says she has an allergy? This isn't real, but it would be big for Joris lore), and the things he went through after the movie: what experience he would have with the huppermage culture, which he was cut off from for his entire life thus far.

Question: is there a single member of this family who DOESN'T fish??

Kramdam is a part of Rok Island, the name of which will be familiar to you if you're A. a player of the MMOs, B. batshit insane about Joris lore.

It might be silly, for me to point this out, but listen: the movie, the series, they all happen hundreds of years before the Dofus MMO, — so to have confirmation that Rok Island is that old, is very interesting.

I had previously said that huppermages aren't very fond of cultures outside their own, and I want to elaborate, so that my words aren't misconstrued: Huppermages culture is, in a lot of ways, a mixture of different classes, — because a lot of huppermages aren't born huppermages, but instead, people who convert to this class, and a lot of their spells are inspired or taken from other classes. However, not assimilating fully is... very unwelcome.

Having a history of oppression and at least one genocide in the years after the movie, made huppermages very understandably conservative and closed-off. But this culture, as we'll see from this comic, had some pretty toxic traits even before those scars.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT. Like I already knew about this, but I want you to understand: the stupid fucking log thing is a family trait.

Do you think Joris told Bakara "I hate magic, I hate magic, I hate magic. I HATE WANDS. I HATE STAFFS. I KEEP BREAKING THEM. LET ME OUT. LET ME OUT OF THE ACADEMY. STOP HAVING ME BE ENROLLED!!!!" and the next day she brought him a fucking log. Do you think this is what happened.

So small, and already sure that she'll never be as good as her brother... man.

Also... Bakara and Joris looked very similar as kids. At least that's my opinion.

I didn't think this comic would make me emotional, but the Jurgen family having a thing for logs is making me violently ill.

It probably was Bakara who gave him that bright idea. And Kerubim was probably like "ok son, I am someone who also uses blunt weapons, I can teach you how to do this."

There isn't some "i like to use logs" gene, it was all just Joris preferring to use melee, Bakara's memories of Jahash's melee skills, and Kerubim's skill in melee fighting.

It is just... insane to me, how Joris ends up doing this one thing that his biological father liked to do, despite how different they are as people. Despite Joris likely feeling absolutely nothing towards the man.

Well, that, or he fucking hates Jahash, though probably not as much as Julith.

Think about it this way, — Jahash and Julith ruined his childhood by their reappearance. They ruined his life for the next few decades too, probably. And after? They would always be a shadow over his life, for as long as they are remembered. It's always either "you're evil and we don't trust you because you're Julith's son" (even though he knows that Julith was framed,) or "you're not good enough, even though you're Jahash's son. How come?" (even though he knows from Bakara that... Jahash was just a man. Even if it is hard for him to put together the almost-holy image of his father as seen on the stained-glass in a temple, and the image of him that Bakara talks about, — a human person, who had fears and dreams.)

The only way for Joris to live his own life, without any judgement or comparison, without being reminded of how shit his childhood was, is to wait for the World of Twelve to forget who the fuck a Julith and Jahash even are. It's logical for him to have some irrational resentment.

And yet he brings a log to a nuke fight in season 4. Jahash would never do this, because he got good at magic, but he WOULD approve.

His parents would have loved him a lot, if they had the chance.

List of things that Joris and Bakara share:

Neurotic perfectionist who struggles with self-hatred about their skills and their body.

Cute ass behaviours and expressions as children.

Alcoholism (this is my fanon for Joris. It came to me in a vision. He's just like Kerubim and Bakara, — needs to get shitfaced to cope.)

Haunted by Jahash's success in life, even though Jahash would NEVER have wanted either of them to be haunted.

Thin grabbable waist and twinkish/waifish looks as adults. (Joris is already a twink, despite his 3ft stature, but NEVER forget the official concept art of how Joris would look if he wasn't possessed by a dragon as an infant. He would be a tall, blonde, anime twink instead.)

Whisperers have, historically, been used as servants by Bontarians and Huppermages.

Though by Waven times, they are enemies of the state (at least dissenting ones), and Joris wants you to beat the shit out of them, for the sake of his beautiful nation. (because they're dissenting)

Jahash and Bakara grew up with their dad, Juvence Jurgen.

By huppermage standards, they lived in very unusual conditions.

"All huppermage towers are super-protected, we WILL die if we don't take precautions, so I will go ahead, and deliver the message myself."

Yeah, no, they're not typical huppermages. I guess Joris has a lot in common with Bakara and Jahash. (I keep making myself sad, thinking about this.)

He thinks that Jahash and Bakara are some local hicks/rednecks that the huppermage has been experimenting on, which raises many red flags. Like the fact that apparently, human experimentation is a thing that some huppermages do. Then he thinks that the huppermage is experimenting on his own kids.

The headcanon that Jahash might have had some learning disabilities that he gave to Joris as one last "sayonara you weaboo shit" genetical move, and that it was REALLY hard for him to learn magic and impossible for Joris, stays winning.

By the way, I guess this is a good time to give you the next, very funny piece of trivia:

Joris's name literally means "George George the Farmer Farmer".

I think it's likely that, historically, before Jahash's success in life, their family were just some random poverty-stricken farmers, who happened to be huppermages.

I'M SO FUCKING SAD ABOUT THEM.

Grandpa Jurgen is literally so fucking real.

THE HEADCANON THAT JAHASH MIGHT HAD LEARNING DISABILITIES THAT HE GAVE TO JORIS AS ONE LAST "SAYONARA YOU WEABOO SHIT" GENETICAL MOVE, AND THAT IT WAS REALLY HARD FOR HIM TO LEARN MAGIC AND IMPOSSIBLE FOR JORIS, STAYS WINNING.

Juvence really cares about his kids.

"If you don't do as master says, he will kill you and all your loved ones."

Guys I'm starting to think, that between this, the political intrigues, the bullying, the "using Bakara for PR while she becomes a teenage alcoholic and not giving a shit about her" thing, — that the huppermage academy and temple, are um.... not actually Good, as an institution.

To most this is "an honour," and yet, this random selection process chose a teenage huppermage who, by all accounts, can't do magic and doesn't know a single spell.

I'm so fucking sad.

You know what else these two quotes can apply to? Haha. well. I ask you to imagine Jahash's funeral, and—— [i collapse on the floor weeping]

"He was always more like a father to her, than an older brother."

I am going to crash my car into the sea. And I don't even have a car.

#ro liveblogs dofus #dofus #wakfu #krosmoz #joris jurgen #julith-et-jahash #bakara jurgen

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hollowed-theory-hall · 18 days

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Magic and Genetics

So, this is not like 100% finished and will be more musings than a full theory. The main reason is that we, as humanity, just don't really know that much about genetics. Like, we get the gist of it, but we can mostly only say: "it's complicated" about it.

Which is true. Like, the idea of dominant and recessive traits the way most people are familiar with (like the eye color chart for blue eyes and brown eyes) is super oversimplified and inaccurate. Like, there are 2 major genes that affect eye color and then there are 8 more genes that affect eye color, hair color, and skin color, but we aren't really sure in what way. We just think they do from observation. Usually, genes behave in a way that is in line with the dominant and recessive traits charts, but there are exceptions to it. Again, we just don't know much about this field.

Because of this, I can't really come to conclusive conclusions regarding exactly how many and which genes affect a person's magic in the world of Harry Potter. What I can do is use the book evidence to try and create a pattern of how magic behaves genetically.

Disclaimer: I'm not a doctor, nor did I study genetics in any professional capacity, this is from online reading and self-study. And most importantly for fun 😊

Why do I think magic is influenced by multiple genes?

So, JKR stated in an interview she thinks of magic as a single dominant gene. This is impossible, since if that were true squibs and muggleborns wouldn't exist and the chart for the likelihood of a child being born with magic would look like this:

And that's just not what we see in the books...

This is all without mentioning how squibs like Arabella Figg can see dementors while muggles can't:

“A Squib, eh?” said Fudge, eyeing her suspiciously. “We’ll be checking that. You’ll leave details of your parentage with my assistant, Weasley. Incidentally, can Squibs see dementors?” he added, looking left and right along the bench where he sat. “Yes, we can!” said Mrs. Figg indignantly.

(OotP, page 143)

This means that squids do have some magical genes that muggles don't.

Additionally, from what we know about wizards as a species they have other differences from muggles that would effect their genetics in less obvious ways, for example:

Wizards heal faster, so cell regeneration is different than muggles.

Wizards have a completely different set of illnesses than muggles, so their white blood cells are also different.

Their brain cells likely live longer since they have an overall longer life expectancy.

Since they can see magic, like dementors and the Leakey Cauldron, we know the sight receptors are different.

Their nerves likely also function differently since they can sense magic in a way muggles can't.

To name a few.

And this is all without going into the fact wizards can reproduce with other species (goblins, veela, and giants to name a few) which actually implies a common ancestor to all of these races, but I'm not going into that can of worms.

What I am going into is how magic works genetically and how predictable it is. As in, if I know the magical status (pure-blood wizard, half-blood wizard, muggleborn wizard, squib, or muggle) of two human parents, can I tell how likely their child is to be a wizard, a squib, or a muggle?

What are squibs?

We don't know of many squibs in the books, these are the list of the known squibs:

Argus Filch

Arabella Figg

Marius Black

Dolores Umbridge's brother

Molly Weasley's second cousin

Squibs aren't a subject wizards like talking about, even not wizards who don't mind muggles like the Weasleys:

"Er — yes, I think so. I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

(PS, page 73)

The definition of a squib is a child without magic born of a magical parent. If we look at the list of squibs above, all of them except Umbridge's brother are pure-bloods. This is kind of important because of the limited genetic pool of pure-bloods.

I tried calculating the inbreeding coefficient (basically how likely it is that a specific genetic trait is identical in both parents. The number ranges between 0 and 1) of the pure-bloods in the Wizarding World. We don't have much information on most families, but even looking at the Black family tree, they aren't really inbred (except the Gaunts). The closest relation there is the marriage between second cousins Walburga and Orion. So the inbreeding coefficient of pure-bloods would be above zero, but not high enough to cause serious health detriments for the most part. But, this doesn't mean wizards don't have a problem with a limited genetic pool even without close inbreeding.

Looking at that same Black family tree, we see a lot of familiar names: Flint, Crabbe, Burke, Potter, Crouch, Longbottom, Weasley, Prewett, Malfoy, McMillian... Basically, all pure-blood wizards are related. Some more closely than others, but they are all related. It means that among pure-bloods there is less genetic diversity which tends to cause illnesses and weakness in children over the course of multiple generations.

Such illness can, for example, come in the form of a squib. If the child just isn't capable of having full access to magic, due to their limited genetic pool, they will be born a squib.

But what about Umbridge's brother?

Well, here's the interesting thing. When looking at accounts of children of a pure-blood and a muggleborn, they are all always magical (and usually quite powerful, but more on that later). Umbridge's mother though is muggle. I believe a muggle parent would also have a higher chance of a squib offspring since they don't have magic. Essentially, Umbride's brother received some of the magical genes from their father, and some muggle genes from their mother, leaving him somewhat capable of interacting with magic, but not casting it — a squib.

Essentially squibs have a higher chance to be born from two pure-bloods (due to lack of genetic diversity) or from a wizard and a muggle. If we look at the books, we actually never see a squib being born from a pair of two wizards where one of the parents is half-blood or muggleborn (since they bring new genetic diversity and make the offsprings much likelier to be magical).

What are muggleborns?

So, we covered that squibs are rare and are caused by the lack of genetic diversity in the pure-blood families or by receiving non-magical genes from a muggle parent. But what about muggleborns? How could they genetically exist?

Well, I discussed here the actual percentages of different blood statuses across the Wizarding World. And the percentages looked like this:

57.5% Pure-Blood and Most Likely Pure Blood

22.5% Half-Blood

15% At Least One Magical Parent

5% Muggleborn

And as I covered here and here, I believe magical Britain is approximately 0.01% of the muggle population. This means that muggleborns are incredibly rare in the muggle population and have an overall very low chance of being born. But under what circumstances would muggleborns be more likely?

We know, for example, that the brothers Colin and Dennis Creevey were both born magical. It means, that their parents had genes that make them more likely to have magical children. This means Petunia had a higher chance of being born magical than, say, Vernon, it was still a low chance, but it was more likely.

Now, I'm not the first to raise this theory, but I believe these muggles that have a slightly higher chance for magical children like Mr. and Mrs. Creevey are descendants of squibs. We know that:

"Squibs were usually shipped off to Muggle schools and encouraged to integrate into the Muggle community. . . much kinder than trying to find them a place in the Wizarding world, where they must always be second class..."

(DH, page 136)

So, squibs have been sent for generations to live among muggles. It means that there are multiple "muggles" running around that are actually squibs. They might be able to see dementors or notice something odd around the Leakey Cauldron, but not enough to produce magic. But they still have magic in their genes. And when they have kids, sometimes, through a fluke of luck and genetics a muggleborn can be born.

This means all muggleborns are distantly related to wizards in some way, but still the muggle blood adds some much-needed genetic diversity that makes them less likely to have squib children.

What would magical genes look like?

So, we talked so far about how to predict the likelihood of a child having magic or not. But we also know not all wizards and witches are magically equal. You have crazy powerful individuals like Voldemort, Harry, and Dumbledore. Hermione is an incredibly skilled and talented witch, often the first in class to get spells right. And then you have wizards like Crabbe, Goyle, or Merope who are barely more magical than squibs. Then you have unique magical gifts like being a parselmouth, metamorphmagus, or seer are all inherited, and therefore genetic.

So, let's start with the power/talent difference between wizards that we see. I think this, like squibs, is correlating to the lack of genetic diversity. Sure, you have pure-bloods that are magically powerful or average, but if we look at the most magically powerful wizards in the books — Harry, Voldemort, and Dumbledore — they are all half-bloods. They all have a higher genetic diversity.

Hermione and Lily, are also examples of this added genetic diversity raising the likelihood of magical talent. Both muggleborns, both referenced as talented and bright multiple times. Snape, another half-blood is also referenced often as an incredibly talented wizard.

Actually, Nymphadora Tonks is one of the best pieces of evidence for magic weakening over pure-blood generations and becoming stronger with the new blood from muggles or muggleborns.

The Black family had the hereditary magical gift of being metamorphmagi. This gift has been lost for multiple generations, the first Black to be born with this gift in recent history is Tonks. And it makes perfect sense, Andromeda, a pure-blood with the genes for being a metamorphmagus, marries a muggleborn, Ted, who has the much-needed genetic diversity, so their daughter is finally durable enough for the metamorphmagi magic to kick in.

The Gaunts are another example of just how much the lack of genetic diversity affects a wizard's magic. All three, but especially Mereope, are portrayed as barely skilled with magic, almost squibs. But then we have Tom Marvolo Riddle, magically gifted so much beyond most wizards because he had the added genetic diversity from his muggle father.

Parseltongue seems to be a more dominant trait than the metamorphmagus ability. As even an almost squib in the Gaunt family can speak it. That being said, the Gaunts are implied to be incredibly incestuous, so perhaps it's just a matter of both parents speaking Parseltongue that causes this gene's apparent dominance.

We also know these genetic traits are only passed to wizards. So a squib from the Gaunt family, would not be able to speak Parseltongue. So, while it is a separate gene, it is connected to the other genes that affect magic. That's why a muggleborn born from a Gaunt family squib line, could potentially be a Parselmouth. They won't necessarily be a Parselmouth, but they have a chance to get the gene.

Conclusions

So, let's put all of it together into a series of rules* to how magic seems to work genetically.

*Rules is not exactly the correct word. It's more like, how it would usually behave, but there are flukes to genetics and everything is possible.

Two magical parents would almost always have a magical child. Pure-bloods are more likely to have squib children than half-bloods or muggleborns due to lack of genetic diversity.

A child of a muggle and a wizard has a higher chance of being born a squib than two magical parents. (The chance is still pretty low though and the child is more likely to be magical)

Muggleborns are the result of at least one parent who is a muggle that descended from squibs and has magical genes.

If both parents are squib-descendant muggles, all their kids might even end up magical. (Like the Creevey brothers)

Being a parselmouth, metamorphmagus, or seer are all unique genetic traits that are passed in a separate gene but dependent on other magical genes. Each one of them behaves differently as a gene.

Genetic diversity promises a higher chance of naturally magically gifted children. (It doesn't promise they will be more gifted, just makes their chances better)

Blood purity and a limited genetic pool cause magical children born to these lines to be overall weaker. (Again, there are exceptions, this is just about chances)

#harry potter #harry potter thoughts #harry potter theory #hp theory #hp #wizarding world #hp thoughts #hollowedtheory #wizarding world of harry potter #wizarding population #wizarding society

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sanyu-thewitch05 · 8 months

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I’ve been always been obsessed with myths, legends, and fairytales. And one thing that always stood out to me was that how various cultures all seem to have tales about magical women bathing, a man spotting a particular one with interest, and then either marrying her, or dying/having some cursed downfall eventually. So…can I request a story like that…but with a twist of course. Male Yandere X Female Nymph Reader

So broad premise…Darling is a nymph (or some general magical maiden) bathing in a body of water, combing her otherworldly super long hair, and just living her best life. Yandere stumbles across her and starts to stalk her over the course of some time, falls in love with her, etc. But Darling has played this game many times before and thinks this is dumb schmuck nth, and continues her innocent/ignorant/helpless act, thinking that she’ll be able to lure this man to kill him in a few days (for food, riches, or something, idk). What she doesn’t know is that Yandere is a lot more smarter and is also putting on his own act in front of her. Cause the twist is that Yandere is partial/descendent magical creature of some sort, and thus Darling’s magic doesn’t work on him. (He’s also had training resistance against magics of sorts or something). Anyway…confrontation happens, Darling thinks she’s gonna successfully drown him, but Yandere reveals his true colors and does some ritual that binds the two of them together for eternity (like some f-ed up magical matrimony), and of course takes her away to some magical residence? (I don’t know what this man does for a living, nor what his home would be like since I want to leave up what partial/descendant magical creature he is to you) where he proceeds to consummate their eternal marriage. Cause in his head, a magical eternal chain isn’t enough…no this man needs to see lots of babies. The literal “fruits of his love.” (Forgive me…I like babies/pregnancy/breeding/baby trapping in Yanderes. That stuff makes me go feral). Can’t wait to see what magical children are produced from this union. LOL.

This idea just seemed fun to write about…two manipulative main characters, each thinking they have the upper hand. Sorry for the long post. Hope you can have fun with the story! <3

TW: Dubcon, Impregnation kink, drugging, forced marriage, blood,

Monday

Being a water nymph of mixed ancestry is one of your favorite things about yourself. Everyone expects you to be the helpful water nymph to help sailors from sirens. Little did they know that your dad was half-siren. Of course, he didn't show any traits because the gene that makes sirens sirens is on the second X chromosome. So when your half-mermaid-half-nymph mom had you and your five other sisters, every single one turned out to be sirens with the tail of a mermaid and the trustworthy face of a nymph.

The best part is that your innocent face helped you lure sailors. Everyone is warned to be suspicious of the woman with a beautiful face and an alluring voice. Nobody expects their angel of death to be a maiden who looks like they're supposed to help you. This earned you many new bones for decorations and combs. Along with many treasures to keep. Plus, the sea creatures let you live in an otherworldly part of the beach hidden away from humans in return for killing a few fishermen. It is truly the dream of a maiden of the sea.

"La, la, la!" You joke around, playfully singing to a romp of otters.

Your long, pastel, aquamarine, wavy hair blends in with the water. The seashells decorating your hair make it look like your personal halo. Your striking blue eyes look like they could pierce through anyone. Your long dusty lilac, coral, and beige tail swishes in the water.

"So, what should I do next?" You ask the otters, going deeper into the water.

The otters swim up to you, then stop. They all stare at something behind you. You turn around and see nothing. You can't help but roll your eyes. Every so often, some human man will come along and watch you. Then, he'll confess his love to you, hoping you'll be his mythical legend wife. You accept, bring him in for a kiss, then bite him on the jugular or drown him.

"Don't worry, I'll have him gone before the weekend," You whisper to your otters.

You go underwater and swim to your grotto for rest. Planning to kill men takes a lot of work.

Tuesday

You sleep until the morning sun shines through the water. You swim to your spot and do your daily routine.

"Let me the morning sun. So much stuff has to be done," You sing, moving your long hair out of the way to expose your bare breasts.

The old topless mermaid trick. The oldest one in the book and usually worked in luring men to their deaths. You pull yourself out of the water and transform into your human form. Your hair covers your naked backside, and you venture into the woods. You hear a branch move nearby and enact your plan.

"What pretty berries," You say, bending down to show your entire bottom and pussy.

More branches move, and you smirk to yourself. You pop a berry into your mouth, and suddenly, your memory goes blank. When you wake up, your body feels so tired you decide to return to your grotto for the day. When you reached the bed, your demeanor had changed from tired to horny. You couldn't help but pleasure yourself. Every nerve on your pussy felt alive when you stroked and fingered yourself. You were seeing stars and the Milky Way when you came. You fall asleep and transform into your mermaid form.

Wednesday

When you wake up, you swim to your spot again and brush your hair. You don't even notice you're not wearing a top. A flower blooms next to you with a golden comb with a letter.

To the sweetest maiden in the sea,

My love, I've been watching you for a long time. I love the way your being becomes one with nature. Though, you should be careful about what berries you eat. Eat too many random ones, and you might not come back.

Your admirer, L.

You laugh. The love letter is cute. So is the comb. But the flower trick really impressed you. You might get a mage's loot this time instead of some fishermen's or hunters. You brush your hair with the comb, and it shows its magical properties. The comb instantly made your wet hair wavy. Usually, it would take a couple of hours for your hair to get wavy after being in the water. You hum a song while combing your hair and sink into the water while relaxing. The branches rustle and twist into a tall, pale figure looking at you from the brush. You can't see its face. But you can tell it's a man. You wink, and you sink deeper into the water. Flowers bloom a path to the water's edge.

Thursday

You sing a siren's song to lure your suitor to his death faster. Nothing happens except the trees twisting, turning, and breaking. Some even bloomed flowers. When you open your eyes to see the chaos you've done, a hand that's disappearing is reaching out to you. You try to touch it, but it vanishes like it is magic. You groan in disappointment and swim out to sea hoping for something to entertain you.

Friday

Your admirer finally showed himself. He was waiting for you at your spot. His silver hair reached his back, and his skin was so pale it shimmered. His blue-green eyes were mesmerizing.

"Hello, my sweet," The man says, pulling you out of the water. "My name's Lochlan and you're going to be my wife."

"Of course," You lie, sweetly going into his arms.

He carries your merbody in his arms, and you bite him in the jugular. Blood splatters all over the grass. His body tumbles into the water, and you hold his head underwater. Lochlan's body finally stops moving, and you let him sink into the water. You dive in, preparing to rip him apart. You can't see his body. It's gone. A hand shoves some sort of berry paste down your throat, and you gag. He slips a silver ring with a blue gem on your finger.

"Did you seriously think I would die from that? I'm half-fae. I don't die easily," Lochlan says, dragging your merbody to the shore's edge.

Your body feels hot, and you want nothing more than to return to your grotto.

"Feel familiar? You ate the key ingredient in our aphrodisiacs," Lochlan states, holding your body as it transforms into its human form. "Don't worry, you'll feel better later."

His hand keeps a steady hand at teasing your pussy. Your watery home slowly disappearing. You can't take it anymore and cry until you pass out.

Saturday

"Ahh~" You moan, climaxing again from Lochlan's fingers.

"That's it, cum again," Lochlan coos, slowing down his pace as you cum.

Ever since Lochlan took you from your beach, he's been pleasuring you. Turns out that the ring he slipped onto your finger bound you to him as his wife forever. Or at least until he wishes to divorce. But that's not going to happen.

"Are you enjoying our honeymoon, my sweet? How does it feel to be Mrs. Caspian? The next queen of the sea fae," Lochlan asks, taking his fingers out of you and sticking his cock inside you. "I waited for you for so long. You even made a cute show of singing your song just for me. I admit it got to me, but I managed to teleport myself away before it was too late."

"Nessie!" You scream, taking his cock for the 5th time today.

"Keep calling me pet names based on the Lochness monster, and I'll breed you till your stomach bulges," Lochlan growls, thrusting faster and cumming into your pussy again. "I can't wait for you to have our babies. They'll be so powerful they could rule every portion of water on Earth."

Before your wedding ceremony, you were locked inside a room the size of a small closet with Lochland. In his culture, a bride and groom must whisper their secrets to each other, then into a conch shell. Then, the conch shell is sent to sea to start the marriage with no secrets. Though you didn't need to whisper your secrets into a conch shell. Your tears meeting a body of water would automatically send your pain through it.

"Just try it, my pretty pearl. A couple of whispers can't hurt. Besides, I want to start this marriage on the right track," Lochlan pleads, clasping your hands.

You relent and bring the shell to your lips.

"I wish I could be with my sisters and family. I wish I could see my precious otters again. I wish I never met him. I wish I never had to marry him!" You whisper, eventually turning into a yell.

Your yell vibrates through the shell, almost cracking it. Lochlan snatches the conch shell from you as you cry. He looks at you with pity and lets you weep on his chest. He brings the conch shell to his lips and whispers his secret.

"I want to be the best husband for my wife. Even if she hates me for eternity. I want to return to the sea to visit my mermaid mom and her family," Lochlan whispers, noticing you looking at him.

"If I marry you, will you return me to the sea with my family?" You ask, looking into his eyes.

"Of course. Anything for you."

And that's how you got to the present. You and Lochlan fucking in his private underwater palace near both of your families. It was a nice compromise and made you feel more at ease.

"I'm about to cum, Lochy!" You moan, feeling your legs about to give out.

"Me too, my pearl!" Lochlan screams, holding onto your hips tight.

You feel him cum in you one last time and fall to the bed. Lochlan falls on top of you and snuggles with you.

"I love you, my pearl," Lochlan pants, kissing your neck.

Sunday

Lochlan is sitting with you in bed and combing your hair.

"This comb really works wonders on your hair, my pearl," Lochlan compliments, enjoying the golden comb turning your hair into beautiful waves. "Are you doing ok? I know being pregnant in your mermaid form isn't easy."

"I'm fine, Loch. I'm really tired, though," You answer, rubbing your slightly big stomach.

It's been three months since you married Lochlan. Since your honeymoon, you've been pregnant with his kids. Admittedly, he's been a great husband and is making sure your pregnancy is going well. Not only that, but you've been able to see your family.

"Lochlan, can you get me some grouper? Maybe some lobster too? I'm having bad cravings."

"Of course, my sweet."

Lochlan leaves your bed and comes back with a plate of fish and lobster.

"I brought some extra lobster for you. Eat up. You and the babies need nutrients."

"You really care for them, don't you?"

"Of course, I do. A proper king should care for his queen and future heirs. Now, eat. You need to rest during this pregnancy."

Lochlan kisses your head and feeds you.

Headcanon post

#yandere fae #yandere male #yandere boy #yandere smut #yandere dubcon #asks #yandere king

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mochinomnoms · 4 months

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Something I've been wondering is if Yuu has a baby with one of the mer boys, will the kid also need a potion to change from fishy to leg haver, or will them having a human parent means they would be able to do so without it. I've also been wondering if a human has a kid with one of the beast boys, will the kid have a tail and ears no matter what? I feel like in general their genetics are probably stronger than humans.

I think it would depend on several factors, and considering I barely pass bio my sophomore year in uni, I'm gonna combine a bit of Google and pulling shit out of thin air for some reasoning.

It would seem that most of the creatures in Twisted Wonderland take on a mostly human appearance in some form or fashion, with merfolk having the most extreme difference. I would argue that non-human features, such as bright hair and eye colors, teeth type/shape, ears type/shape, and extra body limbs such as horns, tails, as well as physical evidence of curses/blessings.

For merfolk though, having such vastly different features, it would depend on a few other factors as well:

I imagine that whether they're in human or merform would be a large factor in what genes get passed down. Looking at Ariel and Melody in the second movie, Melody was only passed down human traits. She also didn't turn into a mermaid until she had magical assistance. So most likely, if Azul or the twins decided to have children in their human forms, their children would turn out completely human with a higher change of inheriting their hair color, teeth, and other mer traits.

However, if they were to have the kid while in their merform, I'm inclined to believe that they would take after them and their merforms. I like to think that in this case, their children would be able to transform into their mer and human forms at will without a potion, unlike full-merfolk. Transfiguration spells and potions are highly restricted according to some lines from Azul and Jack in their vignettes, so it would be most beneficial for a family blended between the land and sea.

Alternatively, if they were approved to get a transfiguration spell or potion for Yuu to permanently turn into a mer, then the child would be full mer. In that case, there's another discussion to be hand about which mer-traits are dominant/recessive.

For the beastmen, it's significantly less complicated:

Beastmen traits are going to be dominant, so any of the Savanaclaw boys will find that their children will take after them. It's not only the ears, canine, and tail that remain, but the vibrant eye and hair colors as well! Why do you think so many of the humans in Twisted Wonderland still find themselves with brilliant, unnatural-natural hair and eye colors? Beastmen-human families are incredibly common and have been throughout history. Even when those descendants have their own children and the more obvious ears and tails are lost, you have to wonder a little where those sharper teeth and nails come from. Where does the pretty green, perfect for blending into forest foliage, or white, clean and pretty like the snow, come from in their family line?

It's gotta be from somewhere, generations ago, right? And that's not even touching on fae traits…

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #worldbuilding #maybe?

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copperpipes · 6 months

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Okay so with the biblically accurate turtles, would them having more turtle DNA make them more dangerous? As in, more unstable? That reptillian brain just kicks in sometimes and raph will open his mouth and wiggle his tongue at random times to try and "lure" prey in, or donnie hisses and snaps and his brothers if they annoy him too much, and especially things like mating season for turtles some get especially aggressive and territorial (poor splinter prolly has so many scars from when they were babies)

Buckle up, this is gonna be long.

Let's start off with the fact I'm not changing anything, so I won't call this an au (that's just how i like to draw the turtles) i'm merely deepening the existing lore and making sense of it, at least for myself.

To explain how their brains came to be and answer the first part of your question I'll start at the beginning. I'll start with Draxum, what his goal was and how he planned to reach it, what he did, some canon related theories and from there and in the process I'll answer the rest of your first ask.

I don't have many headcanons actually, most of what i did was explaining things with my existing knowledge, this ties to my theories and my love of realistic sci-fi and worldbuilding.

Read this however you want, I'll call this an essay.

Draxum has been planning on the turtles long before he found Splinter. We know he schemed against humanity for years or possibly decades, maybe even a century (He is stated to be a couple hundred years old). With counting on the genocide of the human race he may have gone through countless drafts that for some reason didn't suit him (I could have suggested more efficient ways but then the turtles wont be born), In the end it led him to come up with the idea of warriors for mass destruction. Draxum could have created beast mutants, but I understand the ways in which intelligent fighters could be better, for example they could be taught magic when mindless animals couldn't.

We know that he has been looking for a powerful warrior to act as a surrogate DNA donor to perform the mutation, the moment he found one he would have done it, at least i believe these were his intentions, which must have meant the base subjects, or at least the plans for them, were already done.

(Mutation diagram)

[base subject/base/base entity/base creature]= the original specimen the mutation is performed on.

[surrogate DNA]= the additional genetic material which when infused into the mutagen can react with other DNA, the form doesn't matter, and replace up to 70% of the base’s dominant genes.

This may result in a cancerous outbreak and or death.

As in, he removed everything that he deemed unsuitable in his base subjects. He probably had years to do that, to nitpick gens, essentially directing and speeding up evolution, creating a special kind of turtle with both physical, hormonal, and behavioral traits he wanted even before he found a creature to mutate them with. Getting rid of some traits and strengthening/ adding others, heck, he may have even involved prehistoric gens that have gone recessive or added gens that were not in the base creatures at all.

I'll elaborate; part of the instincts were bread out due to being no longer necessary or a hassle in general. The brumation season was removed, but not the turtles ability to brumate, let me explain:

Yokai (I assume Draxus thought to find a yokai DNA donor) are homeothermal, meaning warm blooded. while turtles, our dear ol’ reptiles, are ectothermal, meaning cold blooded (I'll also assume you know what is the difference between them, if you don't, that's what Google is for). Draxum needed to combine these two, making a type of bi-blooded creatures that can slowly adjust to their environment’s temperature. But, if the difference between the internal and external temperatures is too big, they will brumate to minimize the strain on the body and adjust, obviously this takes longer.

About the breeding season you mentioned, the issue in it was it lasted just a month or so and made the subjects aggressive more towards each other (earlier in the research two died of injuries caused overnight) which he really didn't want, so he cut it out their yearly cycle.

he didn't know he would find his suitable warrior to be a human, but let's say he found splinter as soon as he was shown in the battle nexus (would make sense for him to check there regularly), he would have another 16 years to adjust his base subjects for binding with human DNA until he re-kidnapped Splinter. I also think there were things that were pre-set in the mutagen infusion (you can ask and remind me later, there is much there and here is already enough).

It took Draxum about 13 years to reach the correct formula of mutagen after his lab (and I'm assuming all his documented research) were destroyed by Splinter when he ran with the turtles. And I think the second version is much much different from the first, let's start with the obvious, the second mutagen is already infused with different kinds of surrogate DNA and is inserted by the oozasquitos directly into the bloodstream. It does not affect the general silhouette of the base subject and most importantly, it doesnt change the nervous system.

The first version doesn't just do that, it is its foremost purpose, it is meant to bind the human anatomy with the turtle base in a way that it would make a human shaped turtle, not a turtle shaped human. It essentially packs the human neuronal-cells to body mass ratio compressed into a reptile skull. Only, the reptile brain doesn't go anywhere, it just expands to the point it is capable of comprehending the universe. there are instincts left, they are just drowned out by everything else. there are instances where you are more likely to see them, like in moments of extreme emotional instants, overloads, shutdowns, meltdowns and the such, but also, in their fighting/ defense styles.

there was a major reason Draxum chose to mutate baby turtles, baby turtles he molded into something that can stand the mutation by selectively breeding them for it. baby turtle brains that would forget how painful the mutation was and would likely not suffer from PMSD (post-mutation-stress-disorder) and the likely following after that depression, and they won't need to walk and move all over again because they didn't know that yet.

there is seriously still so much i gotta tell, like, i cut out of this answer so much, about how the mutagen works, what else did draxum do to the turtles, and so so so so so much details i left out because this was getting long and i need sleep

to all the people who have sent asks, i didnt forget about you! i will get to everything, it just takes me time because i want to make an effort

thanks for the ask :D

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #baron draxum #rottmnt draxum #rise draxum #rottmnt speculations #guess my major: easy

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mc-lukanette · 6 months

Text

Marinette inspected her various flowers one more time. Even as a florist, she probably put too much focus on checking and rechecking her garden, but she adored the process or making things look beautiful. It wasn't dissimilar to her fashion hobby in how it took effort but paid off in the end as long as one knew what they were doing.

Satisfied with her work, she left the greenhouse area and went to the front of the store behind the counter. Placing her hands on the edge, she arched her back, taking a deep breath to inhale the pleasant scent of flowers permeating her whole shop. She was fairly certain the scent had even overpowered her perfume, making her wonder if it was worth using in the first place.

As she was steeping a cup of tea to prepare for another day of work, the bell at her door chimed to indicate that someone had come in. She looked up, wearing her usual smile specifically for customers, but it faltered when she took in the customer in question.

It was a young man, sporting black hair that turned blue at the tips. The hair alone wasn't strange - either people had it naturally or others dyed theirs to imitate it - but it was that he had flowers in it with no sign of what was attaching them.

Marinette knew her flowers as well as her fashion enough to tell that they were not only real flowers, but they didn't seem attached by any sort of hair clip. In fact, she'd never even heard of anyone using real flowers as a form of fashion statement unless it was extremely temporary, whereas the mystery man walked like he was used to it.

"Hi," he greeted casually, stepping up to the counter.

She snapped out of her stunned state, just enough to reply, "O-oh! Hello! How can I help you?" She pointed, giggling sheepishly and adding, "N-normally, I'd ask what kind of flowers you want, but I think you have enough!"

She'd said it to distract from her being distracted, but winced when she considered that it could come off as an insult. Luckily, the man took it in stride, even letting out a chuckle.

"I do, but I'm still here to talk about flowers." He put a hand on the counter and leaned against it, running his fingers through his hair with his other hand.

Marinette watched in silent awe at how his touch didn't disturb the flowers at all. She kept waiting for them to fall out, but they truly seemed stuck there. She could only nod, curious about what he was going to talk about.

"I'll get to the chorus right away," he began. "My family's descended from flower nymphs. The genes aren't that strong, so they might skip a few generations, but some of us wind up with..." He gestured to his hair for emphasis.

She'd heard of flower nymphs before, but never actually met one. Anyone outside the realm of "normal humans" tended to have their own places to go, simply because they preferred living in different areas or having different lives, but she supposed that anyone who only had a few traits passed down could live a "normal" life amongst other non-magical humans.

"S-so those are real?" she asked, then corrected since she'd already known that, "I mean, they're a part of you?"

"Yeah."

Unconsciously, Marinette reached up, almost needing to see for herself. Her fingers slipped into his hair and through the lavender flowers growing out of it. The feeling wasn't unlike normal hair, though somewhat damp as if it had almost finished drying from a shower. She suspected that the flowers still needed moisture in the way that they did from soil.

As she felt, she noted a sensation under her hand and froze. In real time, she saw a bud form between her middle and ring fingers, blooming into what she recognized as a violet. Her lips parted in amazement and she looked down at the man's face, wondering if he'd done it on purpose.

What she ended up seeing instead was a hint of a blush on his face, his gaze averted to the wall. Her eyes darted from the violet, to his face, and then back to the violet again, somewhere in her mind registering shyness.

She pulled her hand back, blushing deeper as what she'd done registered. The experience had reminded her that flower meanings didn't merely come from nowhere - they were often based on whatever flower nymphs were feeling in the moment of growing whichever flower - but she'd also just embarrassed herself and invaded his personal space, so it wasn't ideal.

"S-sorry." She looked away, rubbing the back of her neck. "I get kind of excited when it comes to this stuff."

"It's alright." He cleared his throat, the smile in his voice returning. "My sister already told me what you'd be like, and I don't mind."

"Your sister?" She peeked at him, mulling over who he could possibly be talking about.

He placed a hand to his chest, explaining, "I'm Luka. Luka Couffaine."

"Couf—ah!" Recognition hit immediately, Marinette smacking the counter with a hand. Pointing at him, she blurted out in surprise, "You're Juleka's older brother!"

He beamed, nodding to confirm. She'd heard about him quite a few times, but had never gotten the chance to properly meet him. Juleka herself had also conveniently left out the whole, "by the way, my brother grows flowers out of his hair," thing. The worst part was that she couldn't be sure if Juleka had left it out innocently, perhaps from having grown up with and thus no longer having thought anything about it, or if it was out of a mischievous sense of humor.

She could believe either, but perhaps it was her own fault. While Luka looked nothing like Juleka in terms of physical traits, they had similar ways of dressing. It was almost strange on him with the combination of torn clothing and jewelry, yet paired with a calm expression and a built-in flower crown, but she didn't dislike it.

Luka, apparently having already recovered from the event, tapped an idle melody on the counter and continued, "She told me you used to help her with her hair. I wanted to ask if you could help me too."

Marinette eyed his hair again, but focused on its length this time. It wasn't long by any means, unlike Juleka's.

"I know it's not much to work with," he clarified, "but people get uncomfortable around me when they see these grow." He tugged gently at the petals of the violet. "I can't cover them with a hat or I get uncomfortable, so I thought I could get an expert to take care of it."

She put her hands to her chest, horrified by the mere thought. "You want me to cut off your flowers? That's crazy! People are stupid for being uncomfortable over something like that!"

Even though she'd said it, she couldn't say she was surprised either. In all aspects, she was a "normal" human without an ounce of magic, yet people had looked at her funny ever since she was a kid.

"Thanks." Luka grinned at her, though added in a semi-teasing tone, "I could've guessed that you liked them, but it's still nice hearing you say it."

Marinette blushed, pouting at him, but it was hard to complain about him taking her touches in stride. Maybe he even approved somehow, and she hadn't just ruined the first impression she'd given to her friend's older brother.

He raised his hands up in a show of peace. "Sorry. I don't want to say anything to make you uneasy, or make you do anything you don't want to. Cutting my flowers can stop any more from growing for a while, but if you could figure out a way to hide them instead, that'd work too."

She pressed her lips together, considering the suggestion. Of course, she had so much more to ask him - "Could you get overwatered? Can you swim without worrying about that?" "Do you like to relax in the sun? Maybe you could tell me if my flowers like the greenhouse." "Has anyone ever tried to pick flowers off you before? Or have you ever picked petals off yourself to make decisions?" - but she knew she could ask those sorts of things if they ever got closer.

It only occurred to her then that she hadn't yet said anything about his request. Straightening up, she gave him a reassuring smile and replied, "I'd love to help you if I can. Maybe you can visit after closing time and we can talk a little more?"

"I'd love that." A hint of tension released from his shoulders as he exhaled. Reaching a hand out to shake on the agreement, he admitted, "Honestly, I'm happy. You're one of the only ones I've met who actually likes these."

"One of?" she echoed, not hesitating to accept the handshake.

"Bees."

"Oh." She wasn't sure whether to snort in amusement or be concerned, but he at least seemed casual about it. Would the honey taste like the actual flowers they come from, or would he have his own brand? What would Luka-brand honey even taste like?

"I really want to know what you're thinking about right now," Luka confessed, curious yet respectful, "but we can talk about it later if you want."

"Ah—okay!" Right, they were still mid-handshake and she'd just zoned out in the middle of it. No doubt he could tell that she was thinking about him.

She hurried to let go, certain that however long she'd been in her own head had been too long, but was met with resistance. She raised a brow at him, puzzled, and noticed his free hand going up to his hair. It was hard to see from the angle, but she noticed a white flower bloom, then detach from his hair. She'd presumed that he couldn't pluck the flowers himself or he wouldn't be here, yet there must've been some rule the flowers adhered to in order to come off painlessly.

Just another on the list of questions she wanted to ask him.

Luka smiled softly, breaking the handshake itself but still keeping hold of her hand. With his other hand, he settled the white flower inside and closed her fingers around it.

"It was nice meeting you, Marinette," he uttered, the warmth of his hands leaving her as he pulled back. With one last, fleeting look at her, he turned away and exited the building, his form disappearing as he headed down the sidewalk.

Marinette blinked, still standing stupidly in place. She'd could count on one hand how many flowers males and females alike had given her over her life, regardless of their meanings, but it was the first time someone had given her one they had literally grown themself.

Staring down at her hand, she uncurled her fingers to reveal the mystery flower: a daisy. New beginnings, her brain provided, though one sip of her tea later, she was already second-guessing herself. Or... was it love?

She blushed, unsure but not daring to dwell further on it at risk of zoning out for her entire workday. Regardless of its meaning, she was looking forward to getting to know him and that was that.

Ending her thoughts on it for the time being, she brought the daisy up to her lips and whispered against the petals, "...Nice meeting you too, Luka."

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette #((me with multiple demon!Luka stuff: ...))#((also me: okay but what about the flower boi Luka))

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