#the robots r so gender i love those two...... brothers :)

[thevalleyoftriumph]

THAT MOVIE WAS SO FUCKING GOOD AND I HAVE CRIED

#the robots r so gender i love those two...... brothers :) #kitkat chat

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Lucien’s R&S - Since that rainy night (Eng Translation)

🍒This R&S (之自雨夜来) was part of the Dream Heart Lake event which will unlikely come to EN🍒

More Lucien R&S from this event:

> regarding what books don’t say

> my love rival older brother

> the missing victim

> since that rainy night ♡

[ Chapter One ]

“Boss, why hasn't Professor Lucien been around lately?”

“It just means you haven’t been coming at the right time.”

For some reason, ever since Lucien appeared on “Miracle Finder”, the shop has become a place where his female enthusiasts check in.

The more introverted ones would order a glass of juice and wait in a corner, their eyes flitting between their phone screens and the entrance of the bar. The more straightforward ones would be like the one before me - the moment they arrive, they go straight to the question, asking about “Professor Lucien” this, and “Professor Lucien” that.

In consideration of the privacy of my customers, I wouldn’t give them a clear answer.

Moreover, even though we’ve known each other for close to two years, my understanding of him still remains at “young and promising neuroscientist”, “Guest Professor at Loveland University”, and other superficial levels.

His entire being is akin to a dense fog, drawing people near, yet never letting one see it clearly. The ladies who have developed an interest in him all say that he’s scholarly, refined, and gentle - a man who is family-oriented, considerate and protective. But to me, that may not be his genuine self. 

-

[ Chapter Two ]

The first time he visited was a rainy working day. At the dead of night, the shop only had a few customers who had been trapped in by the rain.

Everyone had long since lost the passion they had at midnight, laying on the tables listlessly and waiting for the rain to stop. I’d long since changed the background music to jazz, which was more appropriate for a rainy day. The melodious saxophone further elongated the dark night.

That was when Lucien came in, his entire body drenched. For a moment, I even thought the droplets pelting onto his white coloured lapel would dye his shirt the inky colour of night.

“‘A Foggy Day’ - what a suitable song for a rainy day.” I originally thought he was simply here to avoid the rain. But he appeared to be a music enthusiast who came here after being led by the music. “May I know if it’s still business hours?”

“We’re open for business till 5am in the morning.”

He lifted his hand and glanced at his watch. His eyes seemed to hold scattered moonlight. “Thank you. In that case, I still have 17 minutes to listen to his album.”

Not in the least reserved, he took off his jacket in front of me, removed his tie, his drenched shirt sticking to his young body. He looked sturdier than before, slightly different from the impression I got from people who wore white coats.

This contrast was basically my ideal type. Unfortunately, from a glance, it was clear that he wasn’t from around here. I could only settle my emotions, controlling my restless heart.

Because the bartender had already knocked off, I could only provide him with a glass of warm lemon water and a dry towel. “Give yourself a wipe first. You can stay here till the rain stops.”

“Thank you.” He looked so alert that he didn’t seem at all like an unlucky person who just got off work and was caught in the rain. He even chatted with me until the sky gradually turned bright. 

During the idle conversation we shared over these few hours, I talked about things related to myself from time to time, while he would take small sips from that glass of lemon water and listen quietly. Occasionally, he would give me a few replies which didn’t come off as merely being polite.

Without doubt, he was a very good listener. To me, the feeling of being listened to was a little novel.

Usually, people who visit the shop are those with worries weighing on their minds, and I would be their “tree hole”, responsible for absorbing all sorts of emotions from them. Very few people cared about my opinions and what sort of a person I was. And the mysterious man who arrived on this rainy day spent a large part of the night listening to me talking.

By the time the rain finally stopped, I was on the verge of dozing off. But he was still radiating with vigour, and so alert that it was as though he could continue with work right after getting a change of clothes.

“Thank you. This has been a wonderful rainy night.”

When he left through the door that day, I never thought that this man, akin to a hallucination, would ever visit again.

-

[ Chapter Three ]

He didn’t come at regular intervals.

Sometimes, he’d visit consecutively over two or three nights. Sometimes, he’d appear once after a week or half a month.

But no matter when he visited, he’d always sit at the most inconspicuous corner of the bar, order a non-alcoholic cup of mojito and sit quietly.

He was gentle to everyone, and could maintain a somewhat nonchalant distance with anyone. But this didn’t mean that he wouldn’t take the initiative. In contrast, he often left his “designated seat”, and with some unknown conditions, selected and walked towards a “lucky individual”.

They could be lawyers experiencing disappointment at work, or they could be small celebrities who thought highly of themselves. They could be cross-dressing hobbyists whose genders were difficult to distinguish, or they could be a normal youth who was perplexed about the future...

The troubles these people held in their hearts and only dared to meld into music and glasses of beer were completely revealed to Lucien.

Countless times, I’d seen him learning a person’s entire story in the span of a glass of beer. As for things pertaining to himself, he had never revealed much.

The more mysterious this person was, the more it hooked certain people’s desire to conquer. There were always a few ill-intentioned customers who would try using alcohol to numb his consciousness, or attempt to remove that unassailable outer shell of his. But each time, they would stop.

He was naturally not self-indulgent. Even if it was with someone he’d accompanied for two drinks, he wouldn’t overdo it. The moment he entered a slightly drunken state, he would use all sorts of ingenious ways to extricate himself. With a drink in hand, he would calmly return to his seat.

During these moments, his tender features would seem to be covered with a thin layer of ice, revealing a hint of coldness.

Those eyes, which held boundless constellations, would also dim. In them, there would be unreadable emotions. It gave off the sense of a well-made robot suddenly having its electricity cut off, stopping it from interacting with the outside world entirely.

I’d tried making conversation with him during such moments, but he seemed to be even quieter when drunk. As such, he didn’t respond much.

-

[ Chapter Four ]

Watching him get along well with everyone, I teased him. “Professor Lucien, could there be a scientific method to making friends? Why does it seem as though you can integrate yourself with anyone?” 

“As long as you have a mentality of ‘making friends’, you can easily integrate with everyone.” He maintained a gentle smile, saying somewhat cruel words.

Probably because the confusion was too obvious on my face, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “From your expression, I’m afraid you might have misunderstood what I meant.” Even before I could express my doubts, he had already guessed it.

He’s always been this way, easily understanding the inner hearts of others. 

“Everyone is too used to ‘friendship’. But actually, no matter what relationships are shared between people, they’re formed with fetters. As such, if I were to use a ‘passer-by’ method of idle talk, the other party wouldn’t feel an overly heavy responsibility from me. This would create a more unrestrained atmosphere where he can open his heart freely.”

This left me speechless for a while, but I didn’t dare to agree blindly. The only thing I could say was that his way of thinking was indeed different from normal people. As such, one couldn’t use use a normal standard to gauge whether he was right or wrong.

“In that case, have you never considered being friends with anyone?”

“It depends on what the other person thinks.” He met my eyes for several seconds, with a gaze which left one unable to turn him down, once again ambiguously evading the core of the question.

Past experiences have sounded an alarm bell for me:

The more watertight a person seems, the more undisclosed secrets he has.

If they say that a woman’s heart is elusive, then that man’s heart was likely a balloon.

Expanding at will, and contracting at will.

Ever since the ladies in the bar kept talking about “Professor Lucien” this and “Professor Lucien” that, the male customers who came here to flirt with girls were enraged beyond compare. They started playing student-like tricks on Lucien.

I had always closed an eye to such small-scale antics which didn’t affect the business. One, I could treat it as a tiny interlude to hype up the place. Two, I trusted that in the end, Lucien would skilfully and easily resolve such clumsy and cheap tricks.

After one or two occurrences, Lucien didn’t lose his fans. He even relied on these “simpletons” to serve as a foil, adding another wave of favourable opinions. Finally sensing the differences between them, those guys could only leave angrily while stomping their feet in the dark, and eventually stopped showing their faces in the shop.

With a dip in such entertainment, the shop returned to its original peace and tranquility.

“Sigh. It’s so boring since no one has dared to bully you recently.”

“If someone comes next time... I’ll try my best not to scare them away.”

The way he said this dead seriously amused me. Back then, I hadn’t realised that hiding beneath that peacefulness, darkness had already started stirring.

The person who had entered first that night returned alone to the bar. We were even secretly anticipating what kind of childish game he’d be bringing this time. Unexpectedly, he was calm. Even till late at night, he was alone, drinking beer at a corner by himself.

After the alcohol went to his head, that person stumbled over red-faced, muttering to himself, “Scoun... scoundrel Lucien... get rid of your condescending look. Today, I’m going to...!”

-

[ Chapter Five ]

He wore a long-sleeved shirt, completely inappropriate for the day’s weather. It was only when he lunged towards Lucien that I saw a silver light flashing from his sleeve.

“Lucien! He has a knife!”

In a moment, the crowd dispersed in alarm. Lucien, who originally had his back towards the man, turned around, a hand clutching his wrist, and another hand knocking the fruit knife out of his hand.

With an unusual air of calm, he bent down to pick up the knife, handing its handle to me. “I’ll have to trouble the boss to keep the knife properly.”

The person who had the knife taken from him looked at his empty hand in a daze. Customers who had returned to their senses burst into applause at Lucien’s ability to be adaptive in handling such a situation.

The person who attempted to stir trouble fled with his tail between his legs. He even tripped when leaving through the door.

“Looks like you’ve completely scared him away this time.”

It’s as though Lucien had just settled an issue no different from the small pranks from earlier. From start to end, his face didn’t reveal any surprise. 

Everyone seemed to accept that Professor Lucien was just well versed in both the pen and the sword. But I didn’t think a normal person should have such skills.

Being able to react with lightning speed in such a dim place made me deeply think that this enigmatic man had an additional colour that one couldn’t make out. 

To tell you the truth, the ladies who were chasing Lucien in the dark or outwardly had grown to such a large number that I could barely count them. But he hadn’t expressed anything about it clearly.

By the request from a customer, I was appointed to take an indirect approach in delving into his love life. Beating around the bush wasn’t my style, so all I could do was send a straight ball to him amidst the ladies present. “Professor Lucien, there are so many ladies who like you in the shop, but you aren’t going to consider them at all?”

The moment the question was asked, I felt the ladies straightening up their ears to listen, holding their breaths and waiting for his response. 

“I just want to ask, on behalf of the numerous ladies here, whether there’s a type you like?”

“This question has stumped me.” He pretended to look serious while considering this for a moment. In the end, he tossed out an answer which had little reference value. “’Like’ should be an emotion generated by a special individual, not characterised into a general type.”

We originally thought that was just a tactful way of saying he was devoting his entire life to science. But we didn’t expect the “special individual” to appear in just a few days.

A woman I had never seen before followed Lucien gingerly into the bar. At a glance, it was obvious that she wasn’t the type who’d usually appear in such places, so she stuck out exceptionally amongst the crowd.

I initially thought she was just another one of Lucien’s female enthusiasts, and announced his presence jokingly. He remained unmoved, continuing to chat with the person next to him who had struck a conversation with him. Yet, when the woman left the bar, he made an excuse to follow her out too.

That night, he didn’t return. Even the money for the drinks was transferred later via phone.

After that, the man named Lucien, along with that forthright lady, left from our view.

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc lucien #cncancelled #kiro's r&s will probably come after I'm done with the s2 avalanche :') #really want to clear the romantic carnival stuff first so the backlog wouldn't be insane

[mackenzieparker]

ok lets do this one more time, yeah? for real this time. this is it. my name is nika (she/hers, est). i like to write and hang out cool communities like this and for the last first time, i have brought a brand new muse to y’all. below you’ll find all the details on a ms. mackenzie “mack” rae parker, plucky country gal and badass babe. please love me and her and smash that like button or send me a dm (discord ichoosenikachu#4859 )  to plot.

( tw: drunk driver, death, sexism )

B A C K S T O R Y →

meet mackenzie rae parker, born august 17, 1989 in grove, oklahoma. mack (as she’s gone by since she was a kid and it won’t be changing anytime soon) was born to two loving parents Steven and Margaret Parker, the youngest daughter of three boys: morgan, matthew, and merritt. yes, her parents did have a thing for m names--and no, it didn’t help her momma remember her name any better, like they told their kids growing up. 

Maggie and Steve loved their daughter--their whole family, really--to bits and pieces. It had been Maggie’s dream to have a little girl when the couple first got together and when they had first received the ultrasound, well, they were overjoyed. When Mackenzie came into the world, there was cause for joyous celebration and laughter. Everyone was happy the Parker’s finally had a little pink bundle of joy. 

Little Mackenzie’s personality was--well, let’s just say she had never been one to shy away from an exciting situation. Her brothers’ had taught her early on that life wouldn’t always be easy so she had to be tough enough to take it head on. In fact, they made it a point to remind her whenever they had a chance. Buts she was also their little sister, and fiercely protective of her. And while it annoyed Mack to no end, she adored her brothers endlessly. 

Mack may not have been the strongest Parker in the household, but next to her Momma she was the wittiest. Her comebacks were always sharp and as she grew up, she honed her sarcastic, dry wit in addition to her own athletic talent.

Mack loved her Momma. In fact, if she had to pick favorites her Momma would have won every time. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her father. Her father was a good man--he was a local mechanic at Grove Automotive, always greeted everyone with a smile and cared deeply for his family. But Mack and him were never as close as she was with her momma. Maggie understood her daughter’s firey nature but compassionate heart and saw the way it warred within her--especially after she’d gotten into a fight with one of her brothers. 

( tw: drunk driving & death ) When Mack was twelve, though--tragedy struck. Maggie was on her back from work after parent teacher conferences; she was the local kindergarten teacher at Grove Elementary, when a drunk drive t-boned her car and Maggie was killed on impact. thankfully (if one can say that in this situation) no one else was in the car. but suddenly the Parker family had lost its matriarch and Mack, the one person who might have been able to understand her. 

She had always grown up as a tomboy--a fact that even her momma, a woman who had been raised in South Carolina to rather traditional parents couldn’t stamp out of her. But even so, after Maggie Parker passed on, Mack became even more of one, almost shunning all that was feminine away from her, as if any reminder of her mother would be the end of her as she knew it. And, for her, it might have been. It was no secret she had been the closest to Maggie--and her death hit her the hardest. Mack got rid of all her dresses, all her skirts, anything that reminded her of her mother--save for the small box of photos and momentos she kept heavily hidden under her bed. On her worst days, she’d pull the box out and talk to the photo of her Momma--it was the only time the blonde ever outwardly expressed emotions, specifically crying. 

To distract herself from the grief, Mack threw herself into everything she could in high school--archery, debate, robotics club, anything to keep her mind off of the encroaching cloud that now lived around her heart. It was in Robotics club, though, she learned she had a real knack for using her hands. She had learned early on about cars and the like--her father’s occupation and brothers’ fascination with the thing gave her unparalleled access to a number of cars being torn apart and rebuilt from the ground up. But Mack--Mack was always more excited about what flew above their heads than right next to them. A junior in high school, she had made the choice that she wanted to be an engineer--one who would eventually design an entire new fleet of Boeing Jets for commercial use. She had only ever flown on a jet once--to see her grandparents after her momma’s passing--but it had been the only thing to give her relief from her sadness that day. It’s where her love affair with aviation began. 

Mack graduated top of her class (nerd, her brothers would always joke) and soon found herself enrolled in the University of Oklahoma’s prized engineering program (boomer sooner!). Of course, she wanted to stay close to home--one, to keep the costs down but two, leaving her family felt wrong, even six years later. And for the most part, Mack loved it. She got involved in all sorts of things--engineering clubs, intramural sports, and even, yes, a sorority. It went against all the things she hated in relation to femininity, but her mother had spoken so highly of her experiences in the organization, and Mack felt a pull to join her. To her surprise, she didn’t hate it--and it was with those women she really started to learn about feminism. 

You see, when Mack would go home, all the women in town would ask her about if she was seeing a boy. Mack had never understood why it mattered so much if she had a boyfriend or not--she was getting her degree in mechanical engineering, wasn’t that a tad bit more impressive than whatever guy she might be seeing? But soon, it occurred to her that the women in town would never understand anything other than her finding her future husband at school. The fact shocked her, considering it had never occurred to her in the slightest that she’d ever go to school to get a husband in the first place. After the shock worn down, it enraged her and made her work harder. Because now, she was getting disparaging comments from the folks back home and the men in her internships and co-ops. Women can’t build things--they’ll break a nail. Why are you in pants? Your legs would look better in a skirt. Mack had never been one to bit her tongue, and on more than one occasion was able to test out what her brothers’ had taught her growing up. No one was going to tell Mack what she could or could not do. And certainly not because of her gender. 

Mack eventually graduated college--though deeply in debt thanks to all those added fees for science labs #thanksUofOklahoma--but realized that going back home would never be realistic for her. So, she packed up her truck, Betsy, and headed west. Originally, she had meant to go to Seattle or Portland--that’s where Boeing was, that’s where her dream landed. But something about Charming, CA caught her eye--and she found herself intrigued. Plus, it sure didn’t hurt that no one seemed to care when she applied to work as a mechanic in their autoshop. Now she’s been here about 8 years and she hasn’t grown sick of it yet. She still has dreams of working for Boeing, but as she grows more comfortable in Charming, they seem to be slipping to the wayside. 

Mack’s vibe is...well, she’s a loyal friend, a good listener and kind, though not sunshine and rainbows. Growing up without her mom really changed her--she still had a compassionate heart but it’s not as obvious as it once was. She’s still sassy, sarcastic and witty, but she is friendly as well. Smart too--and a bit of a nerd, loves herself some comics and documentaries. all around, she’s genuinely a good egg, just a little...rough around the edges at times. 

H E A D C A N O N S →

Mack never, ever goes by Mackenzie. In fact, you’ll never know its her full name unless she drops her ID. The only person you’ll ever hear call her that is her father--or brothers--when something is wrong. 

Her favorite food is chicken cordon bleu. She knows it sounds fancy but literally, her favorite is the one where you buy it frozen and pop it in the oven. She is a simple gal, truly. 

Her favorite shoes are her various pairs of converse, although for work she can be seen wearing docs so she doesn’t get oil all over her shoes. 

Betsy, her truck, is very special to her--she takes extra good care of it. She’s a 1967 Chevy C10 Pickup in a robin’s egg blue color--and her pride and joy.

Even though she loves her truck no matter what, the woman has worked on enough bikes for the various motorcycle clubs around town to know that if she had even gotten enough money--she’d get herself a nice bike. Flying down the road on open asphalt? Doesn’t get better than that. 

Mack loves classic rock. Like love loves it--but also the women of the 90′s like Alanis Morisette, Liz Phair, The Cranberries--she loves a good women rock group. 

P L O T S →

friends

exes

situationships/flirtationships

fwb

slowburn

coworkers

any connections to the motorcycle gang

literally i suck at listing plots out, just hit me up and i’ll be EXCITED TO PLOT!

#[[intro; mackenzie rae parker]] #please...love us? #shes a good sweet egg i promise #well sweet maybe not