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irisintheafterglow · 4 months

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of daisies and collisions

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ now playing: thelonious monk - "green chimney's"

summary: nanami kento felt a little out of his element, with a small bundle of flowers sitting in his lap and brooding in the dark corner of the jazz bar. yet, you play that song he likes again, and nothing else matters. (nanami x you)

wc: 1.9k

cw/tags: strangers to lovers (??), first meeting, banter-driven fluff with a little bit of angst at the beginning, gojo cameo

note: FIRST TIME WRITING FOR NANAMI RAHHHHHH. thank you to @yutaleks for donating as a part of @ficsforgaza !!! also,,, threw in a little reference for @mididoodles my og nanami lover. i hope you like this :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

Nanami Kento considered himself a simple man.

A week ago, he would have clocked out of work and driven home alone, maybe throwing a baking show on the TV while he made pan-fried dinner in solitude. Nothing got past Nanami’s walls because he didn’t let them. Simple, easy, boring–that was his life since leaving Jujutsu society. Nothing exciting and nothing new, life passed him by and he allowed it to slip through his fingers like water, letting himself become pulled into the mundane pushing-and-pulling tide of everyday life. He wasn’t a sorcerer anymore; just a working man with too much time on his hands, seeing shadows no one else could. Yet, the thought lingered in his mind: who was benefiting from his efforts?

That was his existence, up until a week ago when a novice driver scraped the hood of his car in just the right way to make the engine go completely kaput.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, sir!”

“I am aware of your remorse. Kindly give me your information so we can handle this in a timely manner.”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir!” He exhaled through his nose. The boy couldn’t have been older than eighteen and any other decent adult would have sympathy for the kid. Nanami, however, couldn’t be bothered and took down the teenager’s license and registration with as minimal words as possible. Soon enough, his phone was pressed to his cheek as he called a cab, the nearest one being at least fifteen minutes away. Before he could slip his phone back into his pocket, he senses a body rushing toward his seconds until an inevitable impact. He tries to pivot so that the figure brushes past his arm instead of colliding, but it’s no use. Your shoulder rams into his and you stumble, briefly aware of his hand brushing your forearm to catch you.

“Sorry about that!” You’re giving him an apologetic smile, still continuing in your current direction. You’re clutching a small stack of papers and you grasp at them as they start to slip from your arms. He gapes unexpectedly, meeting your eyes from over your shoulder. His silence seems to concern you and you take a few steps back toward him with drawn eyebrows. “A-Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” he forces out after a moment, taking a disorienting amount of time to regain his bearings. Why was he so startled by you? “Are you–”

“Okay, great! I have to,” you stutter, gesturing the opposite way, “I have to go. I’m so sorry about running into you, again. Have a good one!” Nanami finds his hand acting on its own, stretching out to grab your attention before you’re gone. He’s a millisecond too late and realizes with a weight in his stomach why he couldn’t stop staring at you. There was something attached to you, something inhuman. It was nearly imperceptible because of your normalcy and any other sorcerer would have missed it, but he saw it, the grotesquely snake-like Curse winding its coils around your neck. The question comes into the forefront of his mind again: who was benefiting from his efforts?

Shit.

He trails after you without thinking, without any regard as to whether he would miss the cab or get home after the sun disappears. You’re texting someone frantically while still shuffling around your papers, checking street signs every so often before taking a sharp turn right into a brick building Nanami had never entered before. MIDI’S: JAZZ AND DRINKS, read the neon yellow sign, and he pushes through the door without another moment’s hesitation.

“How are we feeling tonight, ladies and gentlemen?” Cheering, a few hoots and hollers. It’s comfortingly warm in the dark space, dimly lit by a few dandelion lanterns and a tasteful amount of plain candles. There’s a bar tucked into the left wall with two bartenders chatting up distinguished-looking customers. Crowded tables and attendees lounging in creaky chairs litter the space, sipping from honey-colored bottles and crystal glasses. It’s homey, Nanami thinks. Not necessarily his usual crowd, but he could find solace in it. “We’ve got a lot more music up for you tonight, featuring our very own pride of Midi’s.” Nanami’s eyes are drawn to the circular stage at the center of the room, where the announcer gestures behind her to a person seated at the piano. He blinks once, then twice, before realizing that it’s you. You smile into the darkness, wincing a bit when the snake Curse around your shoulders squeezes tauntingly. You had no idea of the danger you were in, which Nanami figured was the reason he orders a glass of bourbon and finds a less-crowded corner of the club.

Your fingers dance on the keys of the piano, gliding and crossing over each other lighter than touching a paintbrush to a canvas. Your movements are smooth and unrestrained, flawless except for the momentary constriction of the Curse attached to you. The Curse’s eyes find Nanami’s and it seems to smile, constricting harder than it had previously while maintaining eye contact. You cough hard enough that your song is interrupted and the other musicians around you quickly cover for you as you struggle for a drink of water. The Curse was restricting your ability to play, and his body again reacted before his mind.

He focuses a significant amount of Cursed Energy into his balled fist–not enough to be noticeable to non-sorcerers, but enough to serve as a warning for the Curse blocking your airway. It recoils like a vampire caught in direct sunlight, slinking away into the darkness behind the piano. It was still attached to you, but he knew it wouldn’t pester you for the rest of your performance. Exorcizing the Curse himself was risky, since you’d recognize Nanami as soon as he was in close proximity. As the last step in his quiet plan to keep you safe, he opens his messages and scrolls through the endless amount of heart-emoji texts he left unanswered, sending his location to the one contact in his phone that isn't involved with being a salaryman.

> LOCATION SENT - NANAMI KENTO TO GOJO SATORU

—

“That’s them? That’s why you send me to a jazz bar at 7:00 P.M. on a Thursday?”

“Don’t call them ‘that,’ Gojo. It’s crass,” Nanami mutters, another sip of bourbon burning down his throat. The blindfolded sorcerer beside him shrugs indifferently, considering you again. You’re playing with more life than you were the week prior, when the Curse was snug around your neck like a deadly scarf. He might have imagined it, but Nanami could have sworn you caught his eye and winked at him. Gojo insists those winks were for him, though. “But, yes. They are the reason I sent you that message.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why’d you follow them and get involved, anyway? It’s not like you to get concerned with things that don’t benefit the collective. At least, not since you left,” Gojo replies. It’s harsh, a little blunter than Gojo’s usual lackadaisical comments, but he’s right. Nanami hadn’t been worried about a single person besides himself in a long while, however much he didn’t like to admit it. He was fine protecting his own simple, boring existence, until he realized just how much he wanted to protect your existence too. Nanami Kento was a selfish man, inside, and he considered his actions to keep you safe not altruism, but an extension of his selfishness. That’d be too hard to express to Gojo, though, so he settles for mirroring his former colleague’s indifferent shrug.

“Felt like the correct path to follow,” he answers. The small bundle of daisies sitting in Nanami’s lap weighs heavier than a dumbbell, and it occurs to him just how out of his element he was. He was used to things being clean-cut and easy, but his recent interest in getting to know you had thrown off his entire livelihood. “We are to keep people safe, are we not?”

“I’m supposed to keep those people safe. I don’t really know what you’re doing anymore,” Gojo drawls. “Though, I will say, they’re really pretty. You think I can pull them?”

“The only thing pulling you is my arm out of this establishment if you don’t be quiet,” Nanami deadpans. “Plus,” he looks down at the stray flower petals sprinkling his dress pants, “I have first dibs.”

You smile at him when he approaches you sidestage after your set, visibly more relaxed without the Curse on your back. Gojo was long gone doing who-knows-what, leaving Nanami to deal with the unwanted fluttering in his gut.

“You’re back again. Enjoy the show last week?”

“Yes,” he affirms, “You are incredibly talented.”

“Thank you.” Your eyes flick down to the flowers in his fist, comically small in comparison to his large hands. “Those for me?”

“Y-Yes, of course,” he sputters, handing you the bunch more stiff than he planned. A silent understanding hides behind your expression; you can see through him like glass. Somehow, he doesn’t mind. “Were you–”

“Are you–” You both speak at the same time and abruptly trail off, insisting that the other goes first. “Please,” you concede with a wave of your hand, “go ahead.”

“I was going to ask if you were playing here for the first time when we ran into each other, last week.”

“Was it that obvious?” You rub the back of your neck with your hand, your smile turning playfully embarrassed. “I had this weird cough that was messing with my health, so that’s why I was running late. It was also probably why I collided with you on the sidewalk,” you chuckle.

“I am unbothered,” he admits. His thoughts slip out from his mouth without thinking. “I wouldn’t mind if you collided with me again.” Your eyes widen and Nanami can feel his face begin to burn, Gojo’s devilish grin at the back of his mind accusing him of being terrible at relationships. “I-I’m not sure why I said that–”

“It’s Kento, right?” You’re peering at him curiously, as if you were trying to hold in a laugh. The sound of his name on your lips is more intoxicating than any amount of alcohol from the bar.

“Yes, how did you–”

“The blindfolded guy came up to me during my break and said he was with you,” you state, the corner of your mouth still quirking like you were hiding a secret. “You have weird friends.” You didn’t know half of it.

“Right,” he forces out. You didn’t seem to mind how goofy Nanami was acting; in fact, something in his head told him that you liked it. “Well, I-I apologize for such a bold–”

“You know,” you cut in as the back of your hand delicately brushes the tiny flowers in your hand. “My set tomorrow night ends early and there’s a really good sandwich shop just up the street. Maybe I could collide with you there?”

“That would–Yes, I would like that,” he barely replies. You tear a corner from your sheet music and scribble something onto it. You press it into his palm as you head backstage, your touch electrifying every single nerve you made contact with.

“See you tomorrow,” you wave with that same small smile he was losing himself to. For better or for worse, something about meeting you made Nanami unwilling to go back to that simple, easy way he was living before.

GREEN CHIMNEY’S (PG. 3)

(XXX) XXX-XXXX

here’s that song you like, it’s the one you smile at every time <3

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#fics for gaza #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #kento x you #kento x reader #kento x y/n

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wthtorke · 10 months

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(Re)Home

Yautja and Human Smol read with some witcher stuff cause I was into it back then lmao, no warnings!

The Earth had a capacity for life. Only so many people it could house and nurture safely.

Humanity hit that threshold long before you were born.

The peace treaty between species made it possible to live among the stars. Some races were willing to share their planets, while others offered space in their ships.

'It's almost like exchange students, but for life- you'd become one of them.'

You didn't feel at home on Earth. Ever since your first breath, you had no place on that planet.

So up you went. 'Above and beyond,' or whatever they told you. Usually, humans who wanted to leave had forms filled out and uploaded to the exchange system.

If you had to call it anything, you'd describe it as 'adoption'. You, specifically, were adopted by yautjas. The deadliest species in the treaty.

You packed your bags, taking your 'goodbye pack' the government provided you with. Laptop, tablet, and other human things 'so the adaptation wouldn't be so harsh'. That's what the flyer said.

"We wish you luck and success in your new life among the stars. It's an honor to have an earthling as brave as you out there."

That's what the video said.

You sling your bag over your shoulder and pick up the government packs off the floor, walking toward the hangar in your papers. You and some others behind you get in line for admission.

Seeing yautjas wasn't new. There were videos and pictures of them plastered everywhere, just like the other species of the treaty. But still, your eyes widened from their bored expression when you saw your admits standing in front of the ship, datapads in hand.

You're first in line, walking up to them and presenting your registration. They repeat your name and information, and you confirm everything, waiting patiently.

"Welcome to the clan." One of them says, nodding at you. You nod back and make your way inside. The ship is a transport shuttle, spacious and high-tech. This was happening. It takes you a second to choose a seat and strap yourself.

The information speech you're given during the trip feels warmer and more welcoming than anything you've heard on Earth.

'Maybe this was a good decision.' You think.

"From today on, you'll be part of our society, which means no special treatment. No special conditions. No buts and ifs." He keeps talking. "Just life as a yautja in a mothership. That's all."

You appreciated the clarity and honesty they had. You expected it to be hard but weren't afraid of working for it. Whatever challenge presented itself for you, you'd beat it. You had survived this far. This wouldn't be different.

Your group gets taken to the housing levels, where each human gets assigned a room. Your eyebrows rise up when you see two grown yautjas in yours.

"Get up, Fang. Our partner is here."

Fang and Claw. Two youngsters from the clan you got accepted into. Written in bold letters at the end of your papers. "Hey," you say as they approach you at the door. "Good trip?" The other one, Fang, asks.

"Yeah, good trip," you answer. You had no idea they'd be so big. "Are you guys really my age?"

"Are you 124?"

"Oh man."

Despite their scary looks, Fang and Claw are what they are. Young. And a little stupid. You somehow felt at home with them. It was nice to be treated like a person and not a number for once.

You get installed in your bunk bed, pull out your laptop, and test the 'fastest internet connection in the galaxy' they had on the ship. A direct link to Earth, in case you want to talk to anyone.

You just wanted access to the shows.

"What's that necklace?" Claw asks. "What's in it?" You look up from your screen, then down to your chest. "It's a wolf necklace."

"Your previous clan?"

"They don't have clans, just families," Fang replies. Claw frowns in confusion, "So your previous family?"

"No, not my family-"

"That's a wolf- so Wolf clan,"

"Claw-"

"I like it," he continues. You smile at the sheer absurdity of it, "Cool to wear your symbol like that."

You laugh softly, "It's not my symbol- it's from a show, a story- the Witcher. In the story, the Witcher comes from a school whose banner is the wolf. Their symbol is the wolf," You play with the pendant between your fingers, "I don't really have a family."

They both stop to listen to you explain. Claw shakes his head, "But you wear it, so it's your symbol. Wolf human from the Witcher school. A Witcher," the word sounds weird when translated from them, clearly adapted.

"Wolf human," Fang repeats, "Nice title, sounds strong. You should keep it," he says. You huff in amusement. "Sure, I'll keep it,"

They barely return to their own unpacking before you look up again. "We should watch it," they look back at you, "- the Witcher-, we should watch it-, sometime." You clear your throat awkwardly.

"It's a filmed story? Like the ones in the human culture lessons?"

"It's called a 'movie'. Idiot."

"Shut up."

You put your hands up before any growling appears, "It's a series- actually. Short episodes that make up for one long thing. Good to watch in between, ah-, training? Missions? Whatever you guys do?"

Claw nods, "Wolf-human story with the wolf-human, I'm in." You smile and look at Fang. "Is there blood?"

"Lots of it."

"I'm in."

You watch the first season during your first night at the ship, only pausing to retrieve your food and for general discussion between the yautjas about how accurate (or stupid) the fighting scenes in the show were.

You have to plug your laptop into the adapted port on the wall so you can keep binging with your roommates, smiling ear to ear whenever they'd say something positive about it. When you finally close your laptop down, you look at them again. "So, thoughts?"

"Don't fuck with magic," Fang says. Claw nods. "Never fuck with magic."

You laugh as they each settle down in their bunks. Fang shuts the lights off as you lay in the dark for a bit more.

"Sleep well, wolf-human." Claw says. Fang mumbles something in return. You smile again, bidding them goodnight before closing your eyes to sleep.

Home, sweet home. Finally.

---------

Thanks for reading <3 muah muah

more work like this here

#yautja #predator #alien #the predator #yautja/human #human/yautja #headcanon #alien relationship #predators #yautja boyfriend #alien romance #alien x human #alien boyfriend #alien vs predator #predador #aliens vs predator #yautja x human #reader #gender neutral reader too

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adrl-pt · 28 days

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Saving Activist Andrey Gnyot. VPN Protest. Charity Lecture by a Political Philosopher.

You are watching the news from the weekly rally at the Russian Embassy in Lisbon. Today is August 24, 2:30 PM.

Since the end of last week, Belarusian and Russian activists have been holding a protest demanding that Belarusian activist Andrey Gnyot not be extradited to dictator Lukashenko. On August 21, Andrey and his lawyers shared the details of his case on the European Radio channel. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-upcgkIwWSA

On August 25 at 2 PM, we will gather in front of the Serbian Embassy in Lisbon at Rua de Alcolena 11. https://www.facebook.com/events/1043644033328903/

If you cannot come, please take photos with posters and send them to us at [email protected].

Sign and share the petition that could help Andrey in the Serbian court. https://www.peticije.online/slobodazaandreja

Also, support the fundraising for his legal defense. https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-andrey-gnyot-save-his-life

We believe it is important to support Andrey because we understand the problems that dictator Lukashenko creates for Belarusians. Recently, with great difficulty, the rock band Bi-2 was saved from deportation to Russia. https://www.change.org/p/thailand-free-bi-2-rock-band

Currently, Russian citizen Vladislav Arinichev is under threat of deportation from Croatia. The reason is that Putin labeled him a "terrorist" and "extremist" for his anti-war statements. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RU2JQ9NArqo

In April, Novaya Gazeta Evropa reported that Rosfinmonitoring is adding both people suspected of terrorist activities and, for example, employees of an Orenburg gay bar in a case about the alleged "extremist LGBT movement" to this list. This list already contains more than 14,000 people, including well-known journalists, politicians, and theater figures. https://novayagazeta.eu/articles/2024/04/02/s-nachala-2024-goda-spisok-terroristov-i-ekstremistov-rosfinmonitoringa-popolnilsia-na-rekordnye-669-chelovek-17-iz-nikh-nesovershennoletnie-news

Back in 2018, Novaya Gazeta reported how law enforcement agencies find "extremism" in social media posts. https://novayagazeta.ru/articles/2018/08/21/77560-etot-spisok-grazhdanskaya-smert

In the Freedom House Internet Freedom Rating, Russia ranks fifth from the bottom, while Belarus is seventh. https://freedomhouse.org/countries/freedom-net/scores?sort=asc&order=Total%20Score%20and%20Status

On August 23, the director of the "Internet Protection Society" Mikhail Klimarev reported disruptions in the work of Telegram, WhatsApp, and Viber. https://t.me/zatelecom/28739

On July 26, he shared two working methods for bypassing the blocks and slowdowns of YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jbTGhCYFIsY

These are the Ceno Browser and VPN generator. https://censorship.no/ru/download.html https://t.me/vpngeneratorbot/?start=BrSh2607

The Telegram channel "Tech Talk" published a link on how to purchase Amnezia VPN while bypassing the blocking of their main site. https://t.me/ru_tech_talk/543

They also provided instructions on how to connect MTProxy, which helped with Telegram blocking in 2018. https://t.me/ru_tech_talk/544

While Russians are protesting by installing VPNs, Ukrainian journalist Yuriy Butusov burned the files of Russian draft dodgers at the Sudzha military registration and enlistment office, calling them "smart people." One of the comments under this video reads: "One Ukrainian soldier helped these people more than their native Russia." https://www.youtube.com/shorts/qaeEidnquCE

On August 27 at 7 PM, we will hold a charity lecture on what a revolutionary situation is. The lecture will be given by political philosopher Ilya Budraitskis. We recommend registering using the phone number listed on the poster so that we can better understand how many viewers will attend. https://www.facebook.com/events/1021147643042506/

We are holding this event as part of our regular support for the Netherlands Orphans Feeding Foundation, which works to return stolen Ukrainian children. If you can't come, please make a donation from home. https://www.every.org/orphans-feeding-foundation/f/help-us-return-the-deported

Proofs and links are in the description. Subscribe and help!

#freeandreygnyot #belarus #philosophy #vpn

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wanderingcas · 1 year

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since ao3 is down and we're all suffering here's chapter 1 of my destiel lighthouse keepers fic (not the prologue. that's a secret)

title: where there is darkness pairing: dean/cas summary, written badly, because i did this in 2 minutes: Cas is trying to escape his past by taking a job as a lighthouse keeper. Little does he know the love of his life is waiting for him there. Historical au. Gay sex later. Just read it.

Chapter 1

1949. Autumn.

The bus drops Castiel off on the outskirts of Kittery, just over the bridge connecting Maine and New Hampshire’s borders over the water. He watches the bus as it hisses, lifting its aching joints and meandering down the windy highway 101.

Castiel decides to stand for a long moment, staring out into the empty field.

Behind him is Kittery Foreside, the center of town: beyond it, the harbor, with the lighthouse just a speck in the distance. It’s a clear afternoon, not quite twilight, so he was able to track the dot through the window as they crossed the bridge.

But now, he’d rather stare at the field and the deep blue of the sky as the sun sets.

In his left hand is the official letter detailing his new job. In his right, a leather suitcase containing everything he now owns (three outfits, one wool sweater, a toothbrush—and a stack of letters, stained in the left corners where he dropped them accidentally into a puddle).

He watches a seagull’s trajectory as it lands on the fence post, scratching at a wing with its beak.

A lighthouse keeper—arguably an insane job to take, considering he has no experience. But the sailing portion on his resume (from a handful of times he sailed at his family’s lake house as a boy) seemed to set him apart from the rest of the applicants. And the job was going to put him exactly where he wanted to be: away from society. Away from people.

Taking a sharp breath, he turns on his heel, and follows the road to the town center, street lights illuminating the pavement in the twilight.

There’s only one hotel that took his reservation at such short notice; as he fills out the registration form, the bellhop eyes his lack of luggage suspiciously.

Swallowing a nervous lump in his throat, Castiel takes the key from the woman at the front desk. “Do you have any recommendations for somewhere to eat this time of night?”

“Only thing open on a Wednesday night is the Roadhouse, sir,” the woman says as she files his paperwork behind the desk. She shoots him a smile. “It’s good food, though. Place is almost as old as the town itself. I recommend the lobster rolls, personally.”

“Thank you, uh…”

“Bela,” she replies.

“Bela,” Castiel repeats. “Can you tell me which direction to go?”

Pulling out a map, Bela splays it on the counter, uncapping a pen.

The Roadhouse is clear on the other side of town, across yet another bridge. The amount of islands that the area is divided into baffles Castiel. It’s well past dark when he arrives, pushing the door into the warm embrace of the diner.

A rush of nostalgia hits him as he realizes it’s similar to the one in Boston that he frequented, just a couple of blocks from the parish—their similarities extend even to the paraphernalia on the wall. Whoever owns this diner seems to have an obsession with John Wayne, just like the ones in Boston.

“Be one sec!” a waitress calls as she flies past him, a tray of drinks balanced on her shoulder. “Just pick an empty one!”

Dutifully, Castiel slides into a chair by the window, setting his cold hands on the table. He glances around at the buzzing diner; there are more people than he expected, considering that the town seemed to already close its eyelids as the sun went down. A family with two whining toddlers are crammed into a booth in the corner, another taking up multiple tables shoved together, kids running around and chasing each other as their parents snap at them to sit down and eat. Other tables are filled with men in fishermen’s overalls and boots, a group of women poking at their plates of food, babies in their arms.

One baby, held by a woman in a plaid dress, coos and holds out his hands towards the plate. The woman smiles down at the baby, kissing the top of his blonde head.

Castiel’s heart constricts and he looks away before the familiar tears can prick at his eyes.

“Whaddaya havin’?”

Castiel whips up his head at the same waitress from before, blinking. “Oh. I don’t have—”

“Ah, damn it, I didn’t give you a menu did I?” she says with a roll of her eyes, pulling out a plastic one from underneath her arm and setting it on the table. “Sorry, the dinner rush is crazy on Wednesdays. You wouldn’t think it, my brother had the big idea to make Wednesday the day we offer crab at market price, so everyone’s goin’ nuts.”

Castiel stares down at the menu, feeling a little shell-shocked, and realizing he hasn’t had a proper conversation with someone for weeks—especially not someone so energetic. “Should I not order the crab, then?” he asks, solemnly.

“Not order the—?” She lets out something closer to a snort than a laugh, smacking his arm. “Oh, you’re yanking my chain, huh? No, order the crab if you want, damage is already done. I’ll just give you a minute, okay? Oh, and name’s Jo, if you need to yell at me across the room.”

Before Castiel can reply, she’s already walking away at a quick pace, ponytail swinging.

He orders the lobster roll when she finally comes back around to his table twenty minutes later; when he explains it was on Bela’s recommendation, Jo scoffs, “And you trust her?” She waves a hand at his raised eyebrows. “Whatever, she’s right, actually. Lobster was fresh caught this morning, too. Any fries with that roll to keep it company?”

Castiel nods, handing the menu back to her. “And an iced tea.”

She takes the menu, narrowing her eyes. “Say… if Bela gave you the recommendation, does that mean you’re staying at the inn?”

Castiel sucks in a breath. The lines he rehearsed are already slamming into his head like a film playing too quickly. “Yes. I just got into town.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, welcome! What brings you to Kittery?”

“A job.”

When Castiel doesn’t elaborate, Jo leans in, smile conspiratorial. “And what job would that be?”

Castiel considers lying. But he already has enough lies to keep track of. “Second assistant keeper at Whaleback Lighthouse.”

Jo’s eyebrows shoot up her brow, and she says, emphatically, “Oh. The stag light, out on the harbor? Really?”

“I don’t seem the type?” Castiel jokes weakly.

Jo doesn’t even try to hide the way her eyes scrape up and down his suit and trench coat, more tax accountant than sailor. “No, actually. Not at all.”

“I’m trying a career change.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I have sailing experience.”

Jo purses her lips. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.”

It was beginning to feel like he was interviewing for the job all over again. Castiel crosses his arms on the table and stares her down as intimidatingly as he can: the same stare he gave the children when they forgot lines of their catechisms. “Is that all?”

“Hey,” Jo says, hands raised, “just making conversation. I’ll go put in your order.”

Castiel watches as she makes her way to the kitchen, glancing over her shoulder at him as she goes. There’s a small window where the orders are passed between the kitchen and whoever is at the counter: Castiel can see Jo talking to another man through it as they glance intermittently at Castiel.

He scrubs a hand over his face and curses under his breath. Lying would have been the better option.

The news spreads like wildfire: from Jo to the cook to other patrons in the diner to an older woman at the till. They all stare at him with curious glances, sizing him up. When Jo delivers his lobster roll, Castiel can barely eat it, his stomach is so twisted up in knots.

Someone is going to ask questions; investigate. Or, worse, someone is going to recognize him from the papers. His suitcase is still at the hotel; he could run back to his room, grab it, get out of town. He could just ditch the suitcase altogether if it weren’t for the damn letters. He curses himself again for not putting them in his pocket. He begins to fish out his wallet, fingers shaking as he pulls out a few bills because he can’t just add dine and dash to his list of offenses, but the walls are also closing in and everyone’s looking at him and—

A man appears beside the table. Castiel stares up at him, eyes wide, hands hidden under the table.

He’s wearing waterproof overalls and gumboots, like the rest of the fishermen types at the adjacent table. He scratches his beard and narrows his eyes as he sizes up Castiel.

Castiel wonders if he could take him in a fight. Based on Castiel’s lack of fitness and the size of this man’s arm, his guess is a resounding no.

“You the new keeper at Whaleback, huh?” he asks.

Castiel wills his voice not to shake. “Yes.”

The man stares at him for another long moment, frowning, scratching at the dark beard peppering his jawline. Finally, he sits down at the chair across from Castiel, leaning toward him. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Castiel asks, frowning.

The man shakes his head. “Just… watch yourself out there. Okay? Place isn’t exactly… normal.”

Something akin to cold water rushes down Castiel’s spine, extinguishing the fire of anxiety freezing his limbs—people aren’t wary of him. They’re wary of his new place of occupation. He almost laughs with relief.

“I can manage,” he says, placing the bills back into his wallet. “Thank you.”

“No, see, there’s—” The man blows out a gust of air. “The Principal Keeper, you see. He ain’t right in the head.”

“I’m sorry, who even are you?” Castiel snaps.

“Cole!”

Both Castiel and the man turn their heads in time to see the older woman from the register approach and cuff Cole over the back of the head. “Spreading rumors again, huh? Got nothin’ better to do?”

Cole crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in the chair with a scowl. “Not rumors if they’re true, Ellen,” he mumbles.

“Then the next thing you can gab about is how I kicked your ass across this diner and out onto the street,” Ellen snaps, smacking at his shoulder. “Go on, get up and join your buddies, you good-for-nothin’.”

With a roll of his eyes, Cole rises, then points his finger at Castiel. “I mean it, okay, guy? Just watch yourself around that psycho.”

“That’s enough out of you,” Ellen growls, shoving his back as he goes. She hooks a thumb over to the table of fishermen. “Ignore those superstitious idiots. They latch onto a Jonah in town and don’t stop talking about it.”

“A Jonah?” Castiel asks.

“That’s what they call anyone who’s bad luck enough to stop them from getting a catch.” Ellen shrugs a shoulder. “But they’ve had the best fishing around here in decades since Dean Winchester rolled back into town from the war, so it’s just prejudice.” She nods down at Castiel’s plate. “Lobster roll no good?”

Castiel blinks down at it; he’d forgotten the food in front of him. “Just haven’t had the chance to try it yet.”

Smile sympathetic, Ellen nods over to the counter. “If you want, we can move you over there. Then the eyes of the town will be on your back. Easier to ignore.”

Despite himself, Castiel’s lips quirk up into a grin. “I like that idea.”

With a wink, Ellen scoops up his plate for him, holding it aloft as she weaves through the tables. “Sorry about them,” she says over her shoulder to Castiel as he follows. “You’re not exactly the first keeper this year to come into town for the job, so they’re just a little excitable.”

Castiel slides onto the stool at the counter, frowning. “I thought the job just opened up last month?”

“Oh, it did.” Ellen rounds the corner to the other side of the counter, depositing Castiel’s plate. She quirks her lips, thinking for a moment. “You’re the fourth, I think.”

Castiel gapes. “Fourth?”

“This year, at least.”

“I…” Castiel works his jaw to find the words. “Did they—are they…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, too absorbed in the image of his body splayed out onto the rocks as an ending to this story.

“Oh—no,” Ellen scoffs, waving a hand. “They didn’t die. It’s a dangerous job, but people don’t die… often. No, these men quit after a few months. One didn’t even last a week.”

Because she keeps glancing at his plate, Castiel picks up the lobster roll and takes a bite. Perfectly salted lobster and toasted bun explodes flavor in his mouth. He makes a mental note to thank Bela profusely for the recommendation.

He realizes, two bites into his food, that he forgot to pray.

He frowns, wiping his face with a napkin, inwardly chastising himself. That kind of thing doesn’t matter anymore.

Jo skips up to stand beside Ellen, placing her empty tray down on the counter. “What are we talking about?”

“Don’t listen to her about it, either,” Ellen tells Castiel firmly, taking the tray. “Jo’s got fanciful notions about the sea.”

“Oh, we talking about Whaleback?” Jo’s eyes glint mischievously as she leans forward to say to Castiel in a lowered voice, “It’s haunted, you know. That’s why all those keepers quit. Only the Winchesters stay there ‘cause they got used to the ghosts by now.”

“I see,” Castiel says slowly.

“But, hey, kudos to you for trying it out,” another voice says, patting him on the shoulder. Castiel balks at the man who’s suddenly appeared next to him, a hand offered in greeting. “I’m Ash, Jo’s brother, Ellen’s reluctant son. Nice to meet ya.”

Castiel rubs his temples and sighs. “This is beginning to feel like a circus.”

“Let me give you the skinny,” Ash says, pushing back his hair that’s somehow short in the front and long in the back—something Castiel can barely get his mind around. “Lighthouse used to be totally normal, right? Besides the normal rumors that lighthouses just always have. Daddy John Winchester and little brother Sam Winchester looked after it while older brother Dean Winchester was off fighting the Nazis—he came back and that’s when things started getting weird.”

Weary from traveling and the overall conversation, Castiel decides to tuck into his lobster roll, hoping that if he doesn’t reply, they’ll all go away.

“Tell him what happened with his uh, uh—what do you call it?” Jo asks, snapping her fingers.

“Oh, yeah! Dean’s agoraphobia,” Ash says. “Shifts at the lighthouse are usually 25 days on, 4 days off, right? Well, Dean stopped going to shore more and more, until he just stopped leaving the lighthouse altogether. Don’t think that kid’s been out since—what? ’47?”

“Of course he has,” Jo says with a roll of her eyes. “He stopped coming to the mainland when his dad died last year, remember?”

Castiel lifts his head at that one. “He died?”

“Yeah,” Ash says, shaking his head. “John Winchester—he was the Principal Keeper for, what, twenty years at least. Fell over the railing on a clear day. Since then, people keep sayin’ they see weird things—like a woman in a white dress walking up and down the landing, lights flickering on and off during a power outage… Weird things like that. But people are jumpy after the war, they need something to talk about. Get their minds distracted.”

Castiel sipped at his water, mulling over the information. “Who was on shift with Mr. Winchester when he fell?”

Jo grimaces, exchanging a look with Ash. “Dean was in the kitchen when it happened. Saw his dad falling past the window.”

“He’s Principal Keeper now,” Ash adds. “So you’ll be serving under him. Sam Winchester is the first assistant. And Adam, their half brother, still in high school—he helps out from time to time, picks up shifts if Sam needs it. But now, with you here…” Ash lets out a chuckle. “Well, as long as you last, anyway.”

Castiel takes another long gulp of water, wishing it was beer so he could calm his jangling nerves. “The Coast Guard didn’t tell me I was walking into a situation.”

Ellen, who stayed on the sideline of their conversation, comes back to lean against the counter. “Officially? You’re not.” She points her finger at Castiel. “Loyalty runs deep in this town. No matter how weird Dean gets, he still fought for this country and he’s done a lot of good for the town since. So any sideways look or word against him, and people will sooner run you out of here than take your side. Got it?”

Castiel sets down his iced tea. He nods. “I got it.”

“Good.” Ellen leans back, arms crossed. “That all being said—if you last after a shift, be sure to visit here while you’re on shore, okay?”

“Yeah,” Ash chimes in, “we’re placing bets. So last at least two shifts so I can stay low, okay?”

“Or at least three,” Jo adds. She nudges his elbow on the counter with her own. “Don’t worry, champ, I got faith in ya.”

Incredulous, Castiel scoffs into his water. “Yeah. Right.”

The bell to the diner door rings, heralding a group of sweaty children in baseball uniforms and their parents. The sudden flood of people distracts Ash and Jo long enough for Castiel to finish his lobster roll in peace. When he’s done, he places a ten dollar bill, enough to cover the meal and then some, beside his plate as he shrugs on his coat, winding around the crowd clamoring for a seat to sit.

He hunches his shoulders against the damp shock of cold, blowing warm air into his hands. Living in Boston was cold, but not like this: here, the very air feels hostile, stealing your breath to toss into the harbor’s winds. Castiel paces down the main street, past the dark windows of a flower shop, antique store, and a movie palace. At the end of the road, nudged up a slight hill, is a drug store—and a payphone tucked in beside it.

It’s a bad idea. He knows it’s a bad idea. But then he thinks of the letters in his suitcase, and the answer is made for him.

Picking the phone off its cradle, he dials for the operator and asks to make a collect call to Boston, fighting the tremor in his voice.

The line trills once. Twice. Castiel’s palms spring sweat despite the cold. On the fourth ring, the receiver is picked up.

“Hello?”

Hearing his sister’s voice releases the vise that’s constricting his chest. “Anna,” he chokes out.

There’s a long silence on the other end. Then: “You have to be kidding me.”

“I know I shouldn’t be calling—”

“I told you not to. I’m hanging up.”

“Just—” Castiel clutches the phone tight to his ear, his body a taut string. He can hear forks clinking in the background on Anna’s end. They’re probably having dinner. “How is she?” he asks, unable to hold the words back. “Her and—”

“They’re fine,” Anna says with a sharp sigh. “Listen, someone could be listening in. It was stupid to call. Don’t do it again.” She pauses. “You get in okay?”

“Yes.” Castiel closes his eyes against the sudden tears that spring into his eyes. “I start the job tomorrow.”

“Good.” Anna’s voice is gentler as she adds, “They’re fine, little brother. Just—don’t call again. Okay?”

“Okay.” Castiel can hear a familiar laugh over the line. He quickly slams the phone back into the cradle; an instinctual reaction.

Panic, fear, sorrow—it all mounts in his chest as he stumbles away from the payphone, blindly down the road. His feet find their path away from the downtown, toward a cluster of trees and green overlooking the harbor.

The lighthouse is on now, its lens bright and twirling across the water like a ballerina suspended on a string. Castiel follows the movement as he breathes unsteadily, desperate to catch his racing heart.

Eventually, as it always does, his pulse slows. The fear, the panic—it all leaves his body like water trickling off a ledge. Regret and shame remains, pooling sourly in his gut.

The water below is dark, murky. It would be so easy to get lost in, with one step in the wrong direction.

He stares at the lighthouse for a moment longer. Then, with a straight back, he turns away and walks back toward the town.

****

As with most things in his life, Dean has a love-hate (but mostly hate) relationship with this lighthouse.

It’s easy to take care of on sunny days and clear nights, but it’s grueling during a storm or fog. Sun shines through the window in the midday, providing warmth, but it’s ever-loving cold the rest of the time.

It provides him with shelter from the outside world.

But it traps him in, like a caged animal.

Love, hate—day in and day out. And right now, standing against the railing of the balcony with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips and the wind whipping at his back, it’s hate.

The light’s ready for the dusk that’s beginning to settle on the harbor. Dean’s cleaned the lens and brewed the meths. He turned on the tap, set a match to the mantle. The routine is so familiar, he could do it in his sleep. The light rotates behind him, illuminating his back briefly before turning its watchful eye to the rest of the harbor.

Bright, dark. Bright, dark. Around and around like a carousel.

Him and this lighthouse go way back, like a bad relationship that he can’t quit. When John moved him and Sam to Kittery and started work on this light, Bobby would bring Sam and Dean to visit during the fortnightly supply runs. Every visit was like a further punch to the gut to remind him of what he’d lost. It wasn’t like the light they’d all lived at when Dean’s mom was alive, with a cozy house that always smelled like freshly baked bread. This was a cold, sterile environment that smelled like three guys living in close quarters. And John—

He could barely look Dean and Sam in the eye when they visited.

After a few months at Whaleback, John seemed to relax into the work and his smile came more easily, but Dean would smell the whiskey on his breath.

After a while, Bobby stopped taking Sam and Dean at all.

The lighthouse took John and swallowed him whole. During his brief few days of shore leave, he’d just sit with a bottle at the table. Dean came to dread it, since it meant that the money he’d squirreled away in the coffee can on top of the cupboard would inevitably be pilfered for booze money.

Dean doesn’t know why he’s thinking about all of this, or about John. Maybe it’s because of where he’s currently standing.

Muttering a curse, Dean pulls the zippo out of his pocket and lights the cigarette.

“Got you.”

Dean turns as his brother comes onto the walkway, collar popped and hands deep into his coat pockets. His cheeks are already pinched red from the cold.

Dean adopts an easy posture, arms settling on the railing as he leans back with a grin. It hides the bitter taste of nostalgia still on his tongue. “I said I wanted to quit, not that I was going to quit.”

Sam rolls his eyes, then joins Dean at the railing. “Light all set?”

“Yup. Everything’s good. Go get some shut-eye.”

“I thought it was my shift tonight.”

Dean shrugs a shoulder. “Not tired. I can take the whole night.”

“You took the whole shift last night, too,” Sam says with a frown. “What about that chamomile tea Bobby brought last week? Did you try that?”

“Not drinkin’ a flower. I’ll sleep the old-fashioned way.”

“Clearly that’s not working.”

“I’ll take the shift tonight.” Dean levels his brother with a stare. “Okay?”

Lips twisted into a frown, wind sweeping at his hair, Sam suddenly looks like a younger snot-nosed version that had that same miserable look when Dean tried to tell him that Dad volunteered himself for a double shift that month. Before the Coast Guard took over during the war, things were more relaxed—less regulated. John was able to take all the double, triple shifts as he pleased, drinking himself stupid with all the bootlegged liquor in the cellar.

It always upset Sam, when their dad didn’t come home. He was a sensitive kid.

Just like all those years ago, Dean’s heart is punched out with a desire to make that frown leave Sam’s face.

“You wanna sneak back with Bobby tomorrow when he comes for the supply run? Go see Eileen? I can cover things here.”

Sam rolls his eyes with a scoffed laugh. “That’s a pretty terrible first impression to make on the new keeper Bobby’s bringing in.”

Fuck. Dean had forgotten about that. “That’s tomorrow?” he asks with a wince.

“Yes, and we need him to last more than a week, unlike the last guy. Otherwise the Coast Guard is not going to let us have a say in who comes or stays anymore.”

“Last guy was a pansy,” Dean grumbles around his cigarette.

“You punched him in the face, Dean.”

Dean glares out at the thin line of the distant shore and doesn’t reply.

“Since you’re a vet, they’re taking it easy on us,” Sam continues, “but Bobby was talking to someone up in a higher rank the other day and—I think this is our last chance.” He clears his throat. “Your last chance.”

“The hell you mean?” Dean asks, drawing up to a straight back. “They’re gonna sack me?”

“Move you, I think. To a solo light on the shore.”

Dean throws up a hand. “Well, fine. Let them. What’s the problem?”

There’s that miserable look again. Sam won’t raise his head as the unspoken words hang between them. Dean stays silent, challenging Sam to say it.

“You know what the problem is, Dean,” Sam quietly says.

Yeah. Dean knows. He knows that without Sam, Dean at a solo light would probably end with him hanging from the rafters.

Blowing out a drag of smoke into the wind, Dean hunches back over the railing. “I’ll try,” he concedes. “But if he’s a dumbass—”

“Then I’ll train him,” Sam interjects. “You don’t even have to be in the same room as him. We’ll put him on the early morning shifts, make him sleep in the afternoons.”

Dean huffs out a laugh. “Make him stay in the service room listening to the radio.”

A grin forming on Sam’s face, he adds, “Tell him that shore leave is ten days instead of four so he stays off the lighthouse for longer.”

“Yeah, the Coast Guard won’t notice that.”

“Whatever it takes for you to cohabitate with this guy, I say we do it,” Sam says with a shrug. “Get creative.”

Dean makes a move to flick the stub of his cigarette away; Sam grabs his arm to stop him. “I just cleaned the gallery, Dean.” With a scowl, Dean tosses it into the ocean instead.

Sam runs a hand through his messy hair and sighs, the disapproval evident in his frown. “Need anything before I go down to the bunks?”

“Nah. Get some sleep, Sammy.” Dean gives his brother a smack on the chest in dismissal. “I’ll wake you for the morning shift.”

“Okay, but actually wake me this time. Don’t let me sleep in until nine.”

Dean taps out another cigarette from the carton he fishes out of his pocket. “No promises.”

“And let me actually make breakfast tomorrow, too!” Sam calls before he disappears through the door.

“I would if your eggs weren’t shit!” Dean barks back. His words are snatched up by the wind. He turns back toward the ocean, clicking the lighter as he holds it up to the cigarette butt. “Seriously, who raised you?”

Blowing out another puff of smoke, the cigarette still caught between his teeth, Dean eyes the shoreline. Their new keeper is probably staying at Bela’s place, if it’s still even running. The inn nearly went under last year after her parents declared bankruptcy. He ran with her a few times in high school before he cut town—she was sharp around the edges. Misunderstood. Just like him.

He remembers the new guy’s resume. It had stood out to him among the rest, mainly because he seemed the least qualified. Didn’t make sense at all why the Coast Guard chose him as the new rookie, when five men before him—way more experienced, to boot—didn’t last.

No family, no money. Maybe that’s why they took him. That’s better, for these stag lights—bunch of single men with no families means there’s a better chance of them staying. It’s why the Coast Guard is itching to get a new keeper for the light, what with them eyeing recently married Sam, and Eileen, who’s in the family way.

It would make more sense for Sam to leave, get a position at a light with a house. Where he could see his family every night.

What Sam and Dean used to have, before Mary died.

Dean runs a hand down his face, letting out a curse. Whatever the word is for wishing for a time that he can’t get back to, ever—that’s what tonight is. Memories he didn’t ask for turning around and around in his head like a wheel. That’s what the sea does when you look out into it: shimmers back at you, showing you what you want to see. And sometimes what you don’t.

The door behind him creaks open again. With a grumble, Dean lets out a breath of smoke, a reprimand on his tongue for Sam to get the hell to bed.

A bang echoes through the air.

Dean drops his cigarette in surprise, whipping around to face the door. It yawns open, mercilessly blowing in the wind, banging against the side. Dean strides over to it and pulls it firmly closed before it breaks one of the windows.

The lens, green and opaque, flashes across his eyes; he squints as the light rotates away. Turning back to the railing, spots dotting his vision, he sees a shadow.

One taller than him, broader; stumbling toward the railing with a groan.

Dean closes his eyes, briefly; chest constricting. A trick of the light. It happens.

“It’s haunted!” one of the failed keepers had shouted as he stuffed his clothes into a carpetbag, stumbling down the stairs. “This place is fucking haunted!”

But that keeper had got it wrong—it wasn’t the lighthouse doing the haunting.

It was the person inside of it.

#where there is darkness #destiel lighthouse keepers au #destiel #THE HACKERS WILL NOT WIN #HERE'S SOME GAY STUFF

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saintmaudes · 9 months

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The most sophisticated statement on monuments—though initially not the most influential—came from Europe’s leading multicultural empire. The Austrian state appointed Alois Riegl, a lawyer-philosopher-curator in Vienna, to draft legislation on historic preservation. In his theoretical preface from 1903, “The Modern Cult of Monuments,” Riegl suggested that the state, through monument care, could inspire the kind of social cohesion formerly supplied by the Church. The “religion” of monuments (Denkmalkult) went beyond Heimat, beyond ethnonationalism, to someplace transcendent.

Riegl assigned pluralistic meanings to monuments: the intentional “commemorative value” from the past, a subjective “historical value” legible to the educated, and an “age value” accessible to all. Of these, Riegl considered age value the most modern, visual, direct, and emotional. Because anything could get old, any landscape feature—including the vernacular, the unintentional, the organic—could become an index of time, thus gaining memorial value.

In modernity, a condition of newness, the worth of age was the aura of becoming and passing. From the contemplation of temporariness came wisdom and reverence—an ethical education. Riegl wrote in near-religious terms about the redeeming power of decay. The temporal was the spiritual. He looked forward to a future age of altruism when societies protected all timeful things, not just the rarest and oldest. He thought the age threshold for legal registration should be sixty years rather than a century or a millennium. Caring for a building corresponded to respecting a tree: letting it age slowly through noninterference. Riegl imagined a secular sacred landscape permanently graced by long-term cycles of impermanence

—Jared Farmer, Elderflora: A Modern History of Ancient Trees

#jared farmer #Elderflora #Elderflora: A Modern History of Ancient Trees #alois riegl #history #ecology #w #2023 reads #upl #much 2 think abt ..

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ovidiana · 11 months

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Dear readers, I have exciting news to share! I will be interviewed about The Dead Romans Society at AIMS (Antiquity in Media Studies) Conference 2023. Register now. Do it.

SAVE THE DATE: 16 November 12:00pm EST / 6:00pm CET

Program (day 6): https://antiquityinmediastudies.wordpress.com/aims-conference-2023/#11-16

#dead romans society #tagamemnon #ft previews and a Q&A!

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darkmaga-retard · 2 days

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Next week, a gaggle of globalists will descend on the UN to rubber stamp the Pact for the Future, a new document from the kleptocrats laying out their goals for global government and universal neofeudal enslavement. What, you didn’t think the UN was an innocent organization devoted to world peace, did you? Well, you certainly won’t after this week’s edition of The Corbett Report podcast. United Nations delenda est.

Video player not working? Use these links to watch it somewhere else!

WATCH ON: / / / / / or DOWNLOAD THE MP4

SHOW NOTES:

Here’s What’s Next on the Globalist Calendar

Interview 1814 – The UN’s Apex Body with Jacob Nordangård

Our Summit For Our Future – #SolutionsWatch

What is the Summit of the Future?

Latest Pact for the Future revision

Episode 087 – The UN Doesn’t Love You,

UN Peacekeepers raping children in Haiti and Liberia

UN Peacekeepers raping children in Ivory Coast and southern Sudan

UN peackeepers involved in gun running and gold smuggling in the Congo

A UNICEF program discourages breastfeeding in Botswana. Infant deaths ensue.

UN complicity in forced sterilizations of rural poor women in Peru

Polio vaccines delivered as part of a UNICEF program in Nigeria were found to be contaminated with sterilizing agents

Wilsonian “New World Order”

The WWI Conspiracy

Cordell Hull, in his 1939 Advisory Committee on Problems of Foreign Relations, drafted a plan for a global government with an “Executive Council” and a “General Assembly”

Hull created a Division of Special Reserach in 1941 to pursue a “future world order” involving a “world assembly”

Just weeks after Pearl Harbor, Hull set up an Advisory Committee on Postwar Foreign Policy—including not just government officials but the president of the Council on Foreign Relations and the editor of the CFR’s Foreign Affairs magazine—to work on the formation of a world governmental organization to birth the New Post-WWII World Order

SDG Goal 16: “Promote peaceful and inclusive societies for sustainable development, provide access to justice for all and build effective, accountable and inclusive institutions at all levels”

Target 16.9: By 2030, provide legal identity for all, including birth registration

UNESCO: Its Purpose and Its Philosophy – Julian Huxley wants UNESCO to make eugenics “thinkable” again

Universal Declaration of Human Rights

Three New Pacts to Be Approved at the UN Summit

The Foreboding UN Convention on Cybercrime

Canadian pandemic bill would regulate meat production, develop contract tracing

Japan Prepares Eighth Round of Vaccinations with Self-amplifying mRNA

Replicon: Big Pharma Preps the Next Bioweapon

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yarrayora · 6 months

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i was hesitant to start reading ooku because. you know. it's a gender apocalypse story. people tend to get weird with gender apocalypse story. they either make women oppress men but the narrative insists that it's not the same, that it's better even. or it's some lonely guy's power fantasy about being the only option these women have. but not ooku. ooku is so good, it's the best harem palace intrigue i've ever read and i haven't even finished volume one yet but i have to make this post because of this woman

an epidemic killed most of japan's male population, which the locals attributed as a god's wrath

japan's society changes without holding men in contempt for being "weak" or "evil" like most gender apocalypse storyline does. but they end up treated like a precious commodity which dehumanizes them in a different way.

another great thing about this is the fact that it only happened in japan while other countries are still a patriarchal society so people made great effort to hide the fact that their leader is a woman as to not be looked down upon (ex. the shogunate only accepts "manly names" in their registration, the female shogun must wear male ceremonial outfits when facing foreigners who have no clue about the epidemic and the new gender role swap, etc)

and of course that means men who manage to survive the epidemic and still remember The Old Ways still held patriarchal views on how the world should works and how he should be treated

such scene is shown as early as chapter 4, where the senior chamberlain cussed out the woman featured in the screenshot above. hes angry at her for helping the shogun dismiss 50 harem members to cut the expenses of the palace because he feels like his authority is being challenged.

at first, O-Mitsu seems to be an easy going, mild mannered woman, perhaps even a bit airheaded, because she presents herself as a smiling fool. but the moment the senior chamberlain complains that the shogun has trampled on tradition and thus made an enemy out of the inner court, she calmly points out that the tradition that he loves so much involves replacing every courtiers and servants from the previous shogunate when a new one rose to power

it's so fucking good

#ooku: the inner chambers #kano hisamichi #hisamichi kano #shout out to the official english release for localizing it using old timey vocabulary #shes so hot. i want her carnally.

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laxmiree · 3 months

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[CN] MLQC Season 2 Chapter 59 Translation [Lucien’s Route (1/3)]

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT ⚠️

This post contains a VERY HEAVY SPOILER for the chapter that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

I turn around and see Lucien standing behind me, the fine mist enveloping his expression in a haze.

"Would my little lady lie to me?"

A brief silence flows through the air as the pool continues to steam, making every breath sound incredibly distinct.

For a moment, I almost think that Lucien had already discovered my identity before the first night even began.

Translation under the cut!

[Previous Chapter-> Click Here]

—[Prologue]—

Before the summer heat sweeps across Loveland City, the Loveland City Digital Technology Summit, jointly organized by the City Hall and Infinite, officially opens.

This summit is the first online summit held in virtual reality in the history of Loveland City.

The stage is at the center, with audience seats arranged in a circular formation around it. Floating holographic screens are positioned between the stage and the audience.

I look around, and the thousand-seat venue is fully occupied. On the stage, Aether is speaking calmly about the prospects of digital technology and virtual reality applications.

[T/N: just to fill in y’all, Aether is representative of Infinite, the company that develops Odyssey]

Aether: Infinite's scientific and technological capabilities will lead society to new heights in medical care, education, culture, and other fields.

Aether: "Odyssey" is one of our greatest challenges in presenting virtual reality.

Aether: In the future, it might not be the pinnacle of the field, but it will undoubtedly be an important starting point. We are also challenging different technological updates…

As he speaks, some scenes and objects from the Odyssey occasionally appear in the audience.

The life-like presentation catches the eyes of many, and the low murmurs of other attending entrepreneurs can be heard.

??: Indeed, it's pretty impressive. No technology company currently on the market can match this level of technical capability and R&D.

??: It's just that we don't know the development costs…

Taking in these bits and pieces, I poke the chibi black swan "flying around" beside me.

The black swan spins around and pops out a line chart, showing the trend of Infinite's tech product coverage in Loveland City over recent years.

The black line representing Infinite shoots straight up into the sky, leaving a vast and unattainable gap between it and other technology companies.

Looking at such a straightforward image, my thoughts drift far away along with my memories…

From the launch of the Golden Apple 2 capsule pod to the official release of Odyssey, Infinite's technological development has left others far behind.

Even now, other companies are hiring "protection shields" in a desperate attempt to catch up.

I know their ambition has never been just a globally popular game but rather broader and more significant fields.

After the representatives from the relevant fields finish speaking, the host announces on the spot-

Long story short, an announcement is made of a beta test for the new "Carnival Night" gameplay of "Odyssey”, “Carnival Night” is based on the popular board game Werewolf (commonly known in the West as “Mafia”). Participants are transported to a virtual ballroom, and as MC navigates the crowd, she gets a message from Kiro, that has entered the game and encounters some familiar faces, like Gavin and Victor. Each male lead participates in the beta test and chooses a different scenario.

I put away this brochure and picked up several others, planning to study them all. The staff at the service desk smiles and hands me a form.

Staff: Hello, we are conducting an interest survey within the game. Could you please sign under the scenario you're interested in on the registration form?

MC: Sure.

I sign under several scenarios, and when I get to the last one, “Seaside Mansion", I see a familiar signature — Lucien.

He messaged me the day before yesterday, saying that Infinite sent beta test invitations to the top three players on the in-game achievement leaderboard.

[Yes, Lucien is one of the top players; the chapter before this reveals that due to his deteriorating condition, he spends more time in the Odyssey to free himself from the pain:". The R&S that accompany the chapter shows how he spends his time in the game besides experimenting, which is observing the game, and from this observation, he finds many hidden mechanisms and achieves many hidden achievements along the way. A game world is full of puzzles after all and he's the greatest puzzle solver~]

I look around the crowd but don't see him.

MC: Has he already entered the game?

Thinking this, I also plan to study the brochures I just picked up.

Which one should I look at?

-Choose “Seaside Mansion”

Surrounded by the blue ocean, a seaside mansion with a luxurious design rises from the island.

A group of people from around the world are invited by the mansion's owner to the island, unaware that danger is silently approaching in the shadows…

Players will take on the role of guests arriving at the "Seaside Mansion," tasked with finding the werewolves responsible for the killings on this secluded island.

This scenario is designed for 13 players, with the following roles: Hunter, Guardian, Seer, Gravekeeper, and Hidden Werewolf, each one player; two Outsiders; three Werewolves; and three Mansiongers.

After reading the scenario introduction, I turned to the standard game rules at the end of the brochure:

This time, eight game scenarios are available, and players can select the one they are interested in by clicking to enter.

In all scenarios, everyone must return to their rooms and close the doors by 23:30. The werewolves and unique roles must go out within the system-specified times.

The action times are as follows:

- 23:30-23:59 - Guardian

- 0:00-0:29 - Werewolves

- 0:30-0:59 - Seer

- 1:00-1:29 - Witch

- 1:30-1:59 - Hunter

The werewolves win if the number of good players (human and unique roles) reaches zero. In contrast, the human and unique roles win if the number of werewolves (including the hidden werewolf) reaches zero.

Additionally, each scenario will have designated areas equipped with live-streaming cameras. A prompt will appear on the user panel when entering a live-streaming area, so please be aware.

MC: The introduction is relatively straightforward...

Closing the brochure, I opened the selection interface. Looking at the various scenarios before me, I felt a bit overwhelmed…

[T/N: Before we jump to the next part, here is a quick explanation about the roles!

- Villagers: Their goal is to identify and eliminate the werewolf.

-Werewolves: Their goal is to deceive the villagers and eliminate them.

-Witch: Has two potions, one to save a player from being killed and one to kill another player.

-Hunter: Once they die, they can kill the one player by their choice (usually kills who they believe to be their killer).

-Gravekeeper: can check the roles of the player that has already been killed.

-Seer: each night, the Seer can choose one player to identify their role.

-Guardian: each night, the Guardian can choose one player to protect from being killed.

-Hidden Werewolf: Werewolf that appears as a normal villager when investigated by the Seer or other investigative roles]

✂———————–

—[Lucien's Route - 1: Raging Sea Storm]—

Without hesitation, I pressed the confirm button for "Seaside Mansion."

White light envelops my vision, and when I open my eyes again, the sunlight pierces through the thin mist, falling on the gray-black low cliff beneath my feet.

The deep blue sea water tirelessly crashes against the steep cliffs as if trying to engulf the entire island.

MC: So high…!

I shiver in fear at the cliff beneath my feet and take a few steps back. Turning around, a modern mansion fills my entire view.

The seaside mansion boasts a luxurious design, rising with opulent grandeur and resembling the safest fortress perched on the cliff.

I rush towards the door. As soon as I arrive, the door opens for me, and a butler dressed in a pitch-black suit steps out from behind the door to greet me.

Butler: Welcome home, madam*.

[T/N: fun fact: the Butler calls her with the same title (夫人, read: fu ren) as the one in Lucien's latest Halloween Date 🤧; this title used to refer to a married woman. Interesting that both this chapter and that date have similar kind of ending-]

MC: Ah…?

Although I know the "Carnival Night" mode assigns roles to players, I am still a bit confused when such an address suddenly comes up.

Butler: Madam, you are the owner of this mansion.

The butler hands me a letter as he speaks. I break the wax seal on the letter, and the crimson handwriting catches my eye — “Werewolf”.

MC: …!

Butler: Once all the guests have arrived, you need to conceal your identity as the host and choose one guest each night to be thrown into the pool—

Butler: End their life and offer it to the sea.

I didn't expect to be the werewolf... My initially steady heartbeat skips a beat, and I take two deep breaths to calm myself.

It seems that no other guests have arrived at the mansion yet. With such a "villainous" role, it's better not to be the "first to arrive" and draw attention…

So, I paused my step into the mansion, quickly ran back outside, and planned to hide behind the wall to observe secretly first.

I wait until most players have entered before I pretend to be entering the game myself, lifting my skirt as I step through the door.

Suddenly, my gaze meets a pair of familiar eyes.

Lucien walks through the crowd in white clothes. The sea breeze tousles the strands of hair on his forehead. His silent eyes spot me through the crowd and curve into a smile.

The raging sound of the waves in my ears seems to have instantly dissipated by that silence, and my rapid heartbeat from a few minutes ago gradually stabilizes.

I take a few quick steps to his side, and Lucien naturally takes my hand.

MC: Mr. X, are you good at playing this kind of game?

Lucien: [chuckle] I can only say I'm average; perhaps I might need your help, Miss MC.

If it really is "help," then that would be nice…

Perhaps it's the werewolf identity at work; the game hasn't officially started, but I've already begun scheming in my mind.

I wonder what Lucien's identity will be... Will he be a werewolf like me?

I absentmindedly ponder this while casually chatting with Lucien, and we enter the mansion together.

The butler leads us to the banquet hall, surrounded by a circle of exquisitely designed luxurious pools.

The clear pool water shows a faint aquamarine hue, reflecting off the gilded walls and casting a cold-colored light on us.

A long table divides the banquet hall in half, with a name tag displaying an ID in front of each seat.

Lucien and I sit down according to the name tags. I quietly count the name tags on the long table; there are thirteen in total.

Suddenly, three clear, rhythmic sounds emerge on the bustling long table, interrupting our cautious scrutiny of each other.

Lucien lowers his hand after lightly tapping the dinner bell and stands up from the long table. The light, fragmented into countless tiny ripples by the water's surface, penetrates his deep eyes.

Lucien: As a member of the human faction with a divine duty, I think it’s not too presumptuous for me to start the game abruptly. So…

Lucien's face unfolds into a calm, confident smile, and his unhurried voice clearly resonates throughout the banquet hall.

Lucien: I am the hunter in this game.

MC: ?!

The originally somewhat dull atmosphere in the banquet hall instantly simmers like boiling water.

Everyone seems somewhat surprised by Lucien's decision to reveal his identity at this moment, while I have no interest in participating in the discussion.

It's over. It seems I will have to spend the following nights alone and be forced to keep my distance from Lucien during the day so he doesn't see through my identity…

Although "engaging in a battle of wits and valor" with him is quite interesting, I still prefer being together with him.

I am immersed in my "thoughts" when someone nearby suddenly lets out a disdainful snort.

Player: Huh? Do you even know how to play?

I look up and see a young man with the name tag "Brother Genius" on the table, who is the first to speak against Lucien.

Brother Genius: Revealing your role on the first day? The werewolves will “kill” you tonight, and at most, you can only take one person down with your shot.

He tilts his chin up and shakes his head.

Brother Genius: The human faction is really out of luck, starting without a hunter. Learn from me; only someone with my role can reveal their identity openly.

He gestures with his chin towards the farthest corner.

Brother Genius: Look at us, the two outsiders.

Brother Genius: We arrived at this Mansion only after the werewolves appeared, so we can't be werewolves. We don't have any skills, but we are definitely good people. Do you understand?

The person in the corner, whose identity was suddenly exposed, stands up coldly and abruptly, causing the chair to slide backward with his movement.

The ear-piercing scraping sound makes everyone's scalp tingle, and almost everyone frowns in unison.

??: Idiot.

He had been sitting silently in the corner, and I hadn't noticed him before. Now that I look closer, I see his dark green hair and hollow dark gray eyes...

MC: ...Joker?!

✂———————–

[Some fun fact: Lucien's route is the only one where MC and the ML belong to opposite factions (they're truly Lovepro’s star-crossed lovers ahah🥹); other ML's (and MC) roles in their respective split routes are:

BQ/Gavin: Werewolf MC, "Hidden Werewolf" BQ

LZY/Victor: Guardian MC, "Witch" LZY

XM/Lucien: Werewolf MC, Hunter XM

ZQL/Kiro: Seer MC, Gravekeeper ZQL]

[Also, if it's not predictable already, Lucien already knows that MC is Werewolf; man can read her like an open book after all 😂 I think this is what leads to his decision to reveal his role as Hunter so early because doing so, he can gain others’ trust and have more ‘’control and power” for the sake of protecting her. There's also (spoiler) reason, but you all will know about it eventually~]

✂———————–

—[Lucien's Route - 2: Humid Airflow]—

Past experiences flood my mind, making my scalp tingle instinctively. How did this terribly nefarious person also end up in this game!

He hasn't appeared for so long, and his mind is always full of the lighthouse. How does he even have the time to "waste" here?

If I remember correctly, he's still wanted. How does he come out without changing his appearance?

As if in response to my question, the ID "Joker" above his head flickers glaringly a few times.

I instinctively glance at Lucien. He only casts a fleeting look in Joker's direction before shifting his gaze away.

Hearing what Joker said, Brother Genius seems a bit incredulous.

Brother Genius: ...What did you say?

Joker ignores him, shifts his gaze to Lucien, and speaks in a cold tone.

Joker: Fortunately, this game is at least worth participating in.

After saying that, he turns around and leaves the banquet hall without looking back despite everyone's gazes.

Lucien does not respond to his words at all, simply watching everything unfold calmly.

I quietly watch Joker's back, mentally drawing a big X over it.

Arrogant bastard, I will kill you tonight!

After the scene quiets down, Lucien speaks gently.

Lucien: Since three players have already revealed their identities, I suggest we start the election for the sheriff early.

Lucien: The sheriff has 1.5 votes, and they can also guide and organize thoughts…

At the long table, Lucien explains the necessity of the sheriff in a clear and understandable manner to those who are still confused.

And for those who raised objections to the sheriff system, he accommodates their opinions and adopts a compromise approach.

The more I listen, the more I feel that this Mr. Hunter beside me is like a "kind-hearted God” who calmly accepts and gently gives.

And the weaker players on the field seem to share my sentiment, their faces showing apparent trust.

Ultimately, Lucien is elected sheriff without any suspense due to his revealed hunter identity and charismatic personality. I can't help but sigh.

MC: It'll be difficult for the werewolves…

Lucien: What are you talking about?

I shudder all over, realizing that Lucien has finished the discussion and is now looking at me gently.

I give him a guilty smile, but a dangerous thought arises within me.

If Lucien is willing to "favor" me just a little... Maybe him being the sheriff could actually be a good thing?

With this in mind, I discreetly wink at Lucien.

MC: I was thinking, this mansion looks so big, I have a feeling I might get lost if I'm not careful.

MC: [smiles] Would the newly elected Sheriff X accompany me for a walk?

The clear water surface reflects a faint glow as if whispering unknown secrets.

I did not expect such pools to occupy this mansion's corridor and every room.

No matter where we go, the sound of flowing water never ceases.

The heavy and silent humid air wraps around us from head to toe, causing a wave of discomfort to surge within my heart.

MC: I thought a seaside mansion would be a beautiful, fresh-air vacation spot.

MC: Lucien, don't you feel like we've been swallowed by a giant monster, all sticky and slimy…?

Lucien is observing at the direction of the pool not far away. Hearing my words, an inscrutable smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

Lucien: Based on the current findings, it is likely that these pools are connected underground, forming some sort of waterway...

Lucien: If these waterways are like circulating blood vessels, then the pools are the organs that transport the blood. In that sense, we do seem to be inside some kind of giant monster...

The hairs on my body instantly stand on end, and I turn and throw myself into Lucien's arms. He catches me as if he had planned it, then gently pats my back.

MC: ...I was already scared enough, and now you're scaring me even more!

Lucien: [coaxing by whispering softly] I just wanted to agree with this imaginative girl's metaphor. Is that not allowed?

Seeing his cunning, squinting eyes, I can't help but let out a huffy little hum.

MC: Let's not talk about this anymore and change the subject!

MC: For example... weren't you worried about being targeted by the werewolves on the first day when you revealed your identity today?

I glance around and ask the premeditated question, only to see Lucien's eyelashes flutter slightly as he responds in an innocent tone.

Lucien: Huh... was I supposed to keep my identity hidden?

MC: Hmph, Professor Lucien, don't play innocent. I know you're a master at these kinds of games.

Lucien: I just don't want to lie in front of you.

He speaks frankly, with no intention of hiding anything. Being gazed at like this makes my heart skip a beat, and I almost want to confide my own secrets to him.

I quickly suppress the impulse, turn away to escape from his gentle allure, and hold his hand to lead him forward.

MC: Alright, alright, it seems you already have your own strategy. You're so intelligent. You definitely don't need a fool like me to worry needlessly.

I speak in a listless tone, with a little wistful expression, when I suddenly hear Lucien's voice.

Lucien: And what about you?

MC: What?

I turn around and see Lucien standing behind me, the fine mist enveloping his expression in a haze.

Lucien: [softly] Would my little lady lie to me?

A brief silence flows through the air as the pool continues to steam, making every breath sound incredibly distinct.

For a moment, I almost think that Lucien had already discovered my identity before the first night even began.

...No, I can't lose my composure first! I secretly pinch my palm, look straight into his eyes, and smile.

MC: Professor Lucien is so smart; how could my little tricks ever fool you?

MC: Why not take a guess?

After all, more than winning, I want to enjoy this game with you in a "special way".

✂———————–

[Dang, the way he said, “would my little lady lie to me?” 🤧🤧🤧, you can almost hear his insecurity and sense of feeling wronged(?). 😂 This is one of many instances in this chapter that show, under his calm and composed demeanor and how he acts as if everything is under control, he isn't as in ease as he appears to be🤧 there's still a possibility and choice that the MC might want to win and abandon him to achieve that, and her not answering his question definitely doesn't put his heart at ease. He will respect her choice, whatever it may be, yet selfishly, he wants her to choose to trust him and 'be with him' instead of winning]

✂———————–

—[Lucien's Route - 3: Sneaks through the night]—

As night falls, I quietly leave the door and see a bald man and a slim young man standing in the corridor from afar.

MC: You must be my teammates, the Ferocious and Superior Baldhead* and... Super Mousy*, right?

[T/N: not sure if it's deliberate, but the name… I'm going to scream lmao. The bald man's complete ID is 邪魅狂狷的光头. While "光头" (guang tao) literally means "bald head," it's also a term that lovepro players use to refer to the neighboring game 光与夜之恋 (guang yu ye zhi lian), also known as Light and Night. The slim man's ID is 超人鼠鼠; in Chinese slang, "鼠" (shǔ) is often used to describe someone timid, cowardly, or passive. It's like a person behaving like a mouse, often in the context of being overly cautious or submissive. Anyway, after this, I'll refer to the mouse guy as Mousy and the bald guy as Baldhead]

The bald guy responded with a grunt through his nose, and the slim guy timidly greeted me.

I remember these two; the bald guy is indeed "ferocious and acts superior" as his ID suggests, while the slim guy seems socially anxious and introverted, barely speaking during the day.

Baldhead: Stop wasting time discussing. Let's find someone who talks a lot and kill them first!

The bald guy speaks up domineeringly, leaving no room for doubt, while the young man timidly opens his lips but says nothing.

I can't help but sigh inwardly; how are we supposed to defeat Lucien and Joker with teammates like this….

However, they don't seem good at logical games, so maybe I can try to induce them.

Not giving them time to think and possibly connect the dots to Lucien, I quickly nod, showing a look of agreement.

MC: I agree. And I already have someone in mind.

Both of them look at me, and I try my best to put an air of authority.

MC: I suggest taking out Joker first. I've played other games with him before... and he's a very tricky player.

MC: You can also sense his attitude today, right? He's very dangerous. Eliminating the smart ones first will increase our chances of winning.

I deliberately mention Joker's attitude during the luncheon; sure enough, both the bald guy and the slim young man frown.

Baldhead: It'll be him then! D*mn it, daring to act arrogant in front of me, he won't live through the night!

I can't help but feel a secret delight inside. Joker, oh Joker, you never thought there would be a day when you'd be "at someone else's mercy," did you?

We hit it off and head towards Joker's bedroom together.

The lights in the mansion are dim at night, making the pool seem even more unfathomable. I nervously swallow hard.

At this moment, Baldhead, who was walking in front of me, suddenly stopped. Mousy and I almost bumped into him but managed to steady ourselves.

Before I can ask, I see from beside him that a bedroom door, which should have been tightly closed, is wide open about three meters away, with someone standing in the doorway.

At this time, only werewolves are supposed to be out and about. How can there be someone else outside?! My heart jumps to my throat as I hear that person speak.

Brother Genius: Oh, finally, you're here. I've been waiting for you wolves for quite a while.

...it's the Brother Genius who was mocked by Joker in the banquet hall earlier today.

Brother Genius: I have discovered the biggest loophole in this game. Now... just watch and see!

A brass candlestick is suddenly pulled out from behind him, and in the blink of an eye, it is plunged into his own body.

MC: ….?!

Everything happens so suddenly that we don't have time to react, and Brother Genius falls right in front of us.

Still in shock, we step forward to check, and he is indeed motionless.

Mousy: How... isn't it true that only the wolf can commit suicide in "Carnival Night"? How did he manage it? Did he find a bug in the game?

Like the blood, an uneasy atmosphere spreads from the still soft corpse before us. Just then, the three of us simultaneously receive a private message.

Butler: There are 10 minutes left until the werewolf activity time ends.

Mousy: What... What should we do... The system doesn't seem to show any issues. Should we still follow the plan to kill someone?

Baldhead grits his teeth, seemingly making up his mind.

Baldhead: We're already here, let's go!

Even though I am still slightly confused, I follow them, stiffly walking towards Joker's room.

I input the werewolf's fingerprint and press down on the door handle, but the door remains firmly shut.

Seeing that I am not taking further action, Baldhead shoves me aside and forcefully presses the handle, but the door still won't open.

Could it be another bug, or...? I ponder momentarily, then suddenly think of a possibility, and my heart sinks instantly.

MC: ....Could it be that he is being guarded? Since the werewolf's fingerprint can unlock it, the Guardian might be able to add another lock...

Baldhead curses and, still unwilling to give up, tries other doors, but none of them open.

Eventually, the werewolf's activity time ends, and we can only return to our respective rooms in defeat.

I lie down on the bed with a headache. The werewolf's action failed, and Brother Genius inexplicably "committed suicide"......

Trouble keeps piling up, and I feel like my brain is about to burn out.

The pool inside the room reflects a cold, icy light. I toss and turn, not knowing when I finally manage to fall asleep.

When the rapid knocking sounds for the third time, I groggily wake up and open the door.

Lucien walks straight in, the worry in his expression not yet completely gone. He relaxes only after seeing me.

Lucien: Did you sleep uncomfortably?

I look at his slightly disheveled cuffs, clearly showing he hurriedly threw on his coat to rush over, and I can't help but open my arms to hug him.

MC: I was a bit nervous and didn't sleep well... but now that I see you, all those feelings have vanished.

Lucien wraps his arms around my waist, allowing me to hold him tighter.

His clean and pleasant scent wraps around my tense nerves, making me unable to resist nuzzling closer.

Although the tension wasn't due to fear of being killed, last night was really too frightening.

Just at that moment, a scream comes from the other end of the hallway.

??: Brother Genius is dead!

I shudder all over, pretending to have just relaxed only to be scared again, and bury my head in Lucien's shoulder.

Lucien's hand moves up to my chin, and he looks me in the eyes. I can clearly see my own unease reflected in his eyes.

Lucien: [in a gentle tone] Were you scared?

MC: Mm...

——Not because of them, but because I have to walk through a night without Lucien. I purse my lips and hold Lucien tighter, yet I seem to hear his barely audible chuckle.

When Lucien and I arrive at the banquet hall, I notice that everyone's faces look rather pale, and there is little discussion.

Although it is just a game, the solemn atmosphere brought by "death" grows even more chilling with the constant sound of running water.

I sit down with an uneasy expression, my heart filled with doubts.

Before coming to the banquet hall, Lucien and I went to see the crime scene.

To my shock, Brother Genius, who was dead by the door last night, is now found inside the room.

The butler claims that Brother Genius fell victim to a werewolf last night, but this is clearly not the truth.

...Could it be that he really exploited some loophole in the game, and the game's rules tacitly allowed his actions?

Just when I am puzzled and unable to figure it out, someone nearby breaks the silence.

Red Nose: It's almost time to vote. Why is no one talking? I'll go first.

A guy wearing a clown nose accessory anxiously taps the dinner plate with a spoon.

Red Nose: Could it be that the wolf targeted "Brother Genius" because he exposed his identity as an outsider…

The middle-aged man sitting at the head of the table hears this and slowly shakes his head.

Uncle: "A gentleman does not deceive in the dark." I suggest we all play openly; that would make the game much simpler…

[T/N: basically, the uncle would rather have everyone reveal the role, while the red-nosed guy is afraid that if anyone reveals their role, they will get targeted. Hmm, I wonder why-]

The two begin to discuss it heatedly, and soon, Red Nose's increasingly sharp voice turns it into a one-sided argument.

Watching the human faction fall into disarray, I wish they would argue even more fiercely. However, when I look up, I see Lucien's thoughtful expression.

Lucien: Based on your discussion, I believe that Brother Genius's death is not the worst situation.

Lucien: Please don't forget that his identity was that of an outsider, and the seer is still among us.

Red Nose: So what, are you suggesting that the seer should reveal themselves like you?

Red Nose: Seer, I don't know who you are, but if you didn't identify a werewolf last night, don't reveal your identity!

Facing Red Nose's targeting, Lucien merely shows a gentle smile.

Lucien: I can't control the seer's actions, but since we currently lack sufficient clues, I have a suggestion for everyone to consider.

Lucien: Tonight, I hope the seer can verify the identity of whoever is willing to prove themselves first.

✂———————–

—[Lucien's Route - 4: Banquet Social Season (Non-story/a.k.a Stage part)]—

Every banquet is an encounter.

✂———————–

—[Lucien's Route - 5: Misty Water Mirror]—

Whoever is willing to prove themselves first...?

What does that mean? I pause slightly and then hear the uncle burst into hearty laughter.

Uncle: Good! Great idea. With so many people present, the seer does indeed need some "hints!"

Lucien: So, who is willing to be verified by the seer tonight?

Lucien's lips curve into a relaxed smile as if he is merely making a casual suggestion.

However, alarm bells go off in my mind, and the fork in my hand unconsciously scrapes the plate twice.

Could he really just be signaling the seer hidden in the crowd to start working? No, based on what I know about Lucien, there's definitely more to it than that…

I instinctively want to stay silent; we still don't know who the seer is. What if I'm the only one who raises their hand, and the seer really investigates me? But…

My heart is beating faster and faster, and my mind is whirling.

Until an almost terrifying thought suddenly flashes through my mind, exploding within me.

——Could Lucien be setting up a trap? This trap targets not only the wolves but also the humans.

If I think outside the perspective of a wolf and view it from a human's standpoint, only the wolves wouldn't want to be verified by the seer...

With this thought, I impulsively raise my hand, cold sweat running down my back.

Whatever, I'll take the gamble!

MC: I am human. If the seer doesn't have a suitable candidate, they can verify me tonight.

It seems my action also encouraged others, and soon, more people raised their hands.

As the first to raise my hand, I openly look at their faces, only to notice that the uncle is also observing in secret.

He was so supportive of Lucien's suggestion, yet he didn't raise his hand... Doesn't he want to prove his identity first?

As I ponder this, Red Nose suddenly stands up from his seat and almost shouts from his throat.

Red Nose: Stop doing foolish things! How can you be manipulated by a few fancy words and consider exposing yourself?

Exposing...? In a flash, I suddenly realize Lucien's trap for the humans—the seer, who isn't good at scheming, risks being exposed because of this!

Unfortunately, such shallow and aggressive rhetoric would only enlighten someone with ulterior motives like me. Who else would want to listen?

Joker: Ridiculous.

Leaning against the wall, Joker speaks coldly, casting a glance at everyone present as if looking at a group of monkeys in a zoo.

Finally, his gaze falls on Red Nose.

Joker: Your stupidity makes you useless in information sharing, only capable of creating arguments and stirring emotions.

Joker: Even if you are not a wolf, your voice is redundant for the human faction.

After speaking, Joker ignores the discussions and Red Nose's curses that follow, crossing his arms and closing his eyes as if to sleep.

.......even though the situation is favorable to me, I still feel that he is more of a "shit-stirrer" than the werewolves.

The interruption leaves everyone a little unsure for a moment, and Lucien takes the opportunity to speak up.

Lucien: In deduction and confrontation games, good people always hope to prove their innocence regardless of skill level.

Lucien: Therefore, those who actively seek to have a voice are naturally more eager to prove their identity first, thus leading the direction of the voting.

The cold, shimmering light blurs his expression, drawing more attention to his firm words.

Lucien: Actively seizing the right to speak while not wanting to be checked... If there is still no reasonable explanation, then it's very likely a wolf trying to confuse the humans.

Immediately, everyone’s hands shot up in unison as if driven by a death warrant.

I watch as Lucien steers the situation, effortlessly controlling everyone's emotions, making me feel both proud and nervous.

Then, everyone's eyes converged on the one person who had yet to raise their hand.

Red Nose breathes heavily, his bloodshot eyes glaring fiercely at Lucien, his face full of unwilling rage.

Red Nose: If you're going to vote, then vote!

As expected, Red Nose is unanimously voted out. The attendants take him to the edge of the banquet hall's pool and push him in.

Like the empty stomach of a giant monster finally capturing its nutrients, the calm water surface surges and engulfs his body violently, a striking crimson color spreading across the water.

The pool becomes very bright instantly, but just as quickly, it calms down again. The vivid red water reverts to a pale aquamarine, just as it was before.

Obviously, such a display in the game doesn't relax anyone. People start to leave one after another, unwilling to stay any longer.

I walk to the edge of the long table and turn back to take another look at the uncle, who remains in place.

He sits at the table enjoying his dessert, his brow relaxed, and he seems much more at ease than before the luncheon.

I go over his behavior today in my mind, and an answer becomes apparent to me.

Lucien: [gently] Are you feeling better?

Lucien walks toward me, naturally taking my hand, and I instinctively avert my gaze from the uncle.

MC: Hmm, much better~ Maybe because I ate something, I feel more energized!

My palms are still sweaty from the luncheon, and although I let Lucien hold my fingertips, I never dared to fully open my hand and interlock fingers with him.

Lucien's long fingers gently squeeze my fingertips, seemingly unaware of my little thoughts.

It's just that the time he spends gazing at my face seems... a bit longer?

Lucien: But your complexion is still a bit pale. Have some more sugar.

Lucien picks up a glass of juice from the table and hands it to me. I happily take it and drink a sip, then immediately frown.

...Why does it taste so strange? It's not good at all.

Lucien: Don't like it?

MC: ...No, of course I like anything Professor Lucien gives me!

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel a bit regretful. There was no need to explain something so trivial; I'm being overly cautious…

Lucien just smiles slightly, his eyes as gentle and profound as always.

But perhaps due to the mindset of a werewolf, I have the feeling that he is subtly punishing me for lying.

...With him by my side, I have to be even more careful with every move I make.

[When she doesn't answer last night, he understands why. He understands her choice, hesitation, and pain. So, he still comforts her with so much care. However, he can't help but still feel a bit wronged that MC doesn't trust him enough to tell him the truth and chooses to endure everything alone, so that not-so-palatable drink was his small retaliation.... this fox can be a bit petty sometimes skskks]

[Next Part-> Click Here]

#ah OF COURSE they will be on opposite sides 🥹#star-crossed lovers just work so good with them though #poor MC just longing to be together with Lucien tho :“”“#mlqc lucien #mr love queen's choice #mlqc cn #mlqc spoiler #mlqc translation #mr. love queen's choice #mlqc #mr love lucien #mlqc xu mo #mlqc spoilers

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