#pocket option strategy

[sharpy-tech]

$10 TO $1137 | QUOTEX STRATEGY | MAKE MONEY ONLINE 2022

$10 TO $1137 | QUOTEX STRATEGY | MAKE MONEY ONLINE 2022

QUOTEX STRATEGY | MAKE MONEY ONLINE 2022 My main channel – https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCj9XGWJjDHbatWl2cpwU37Q Hi! I’m Dasha and today I’ll show you my binary options trading strategy on pocket option platform. More my binary options tutorials and binary options reviews you can see in playlists. Also you can find others binary options strategy, in particular pocket option strategy and learn…

[ultimatefxtools]

Pocket Option Mobile Strategy 2023 - 60 Seconds Swing Trading

[profiteadeveloper]

Supertrend Indicator _ Strong Reversal System For Scalping Trading _ Swi...

[karlachismylife]

Yeah, but what if you're a character in a game they like to play? A pre-existing townie in a life simulator that helps them reconnect with normal life outside deployment? The one they somehow always tend to romance in every savefile, courting you through the clumsy mechanics?

Soap would absolutely spam interactions, interrupting any of the tasks you are trying to do. What do you mean your relatonship progress starts going down after he chose "tell a flirty joke" twenty times in a row? Why are you falling out of the conversation and going to water your plants or play on the computer? Does he have to delete it out of the game for you to stop getting distracted? Hmph. If you were a real person, you would be already swooning at his jokes, that he knows for sure. C'mon, bonnie, don't leave the lot for work! If you accept his proposition to move in, you'll never need to work a day in your pixel life! He also has a fuckton of savefiles, because he wants to try every single thing the game has to offer, but turns out mastering all 158 skills and 73 careers isn't that easy in one go. He still goes after you in each and every savefile. What can he say? You're just the prettiest of them all.

Gaz has the strategy nailed down. He knows your pre-set preferences and makes sure his character caters to them (good thing you seem to be generally into him, all he needs to do is add your favourite colour to his outfit, and it suits hm too!), he can calculate the shortest route to have a romantic meter above your head in one conversation. Juggling the interactions with ease, never making the mistake to bore or upset you. He knows you'll have the best family tree in that game, and he'll make it happen. Also has quite a few savefiles, but only because he enjoys the storytelling aspect and always prepares some elaborate plot, filled with drama. Takes inspiration from the hundreds of episodes of different TV shows he manages to watch, also plays with mods to add as much flavour to the game as possible.

Price tries to court you like he would a real person. Inviting your character out, putting a lot of thought into which conversation theme choose out of what game offers, bringing you gifts. Unfortunately for him, the game isn't registering his actions as actually trying to woo you... so he just takes the gloves off and fucking cheats your relationship status. His in-game self needs a pretty partner to look after the pack of three dogs, named Ghost, Gaz and Soap respectively. He's not above cheating your babies (whether your character carries them or it's the science baby option) to be triplets. Only starts new savefiles when you both grow old and pass away in the previous one, maybe because he can't bring himself to live out your kids' lives (they should be their own little virtual people and decide for themselves), or maybe because he doesn't understand that he actually can keep playing even if his character's dead.

Ghost starts with adding himself to your family and setting your relationship status as spouses. Oh, you have some in-game pathetic weird looking prick as your pre-set partner/husband? Too bad, evicted, deleted from the game, forgotten. If he is in the mood, he won't straight up delete that poor bloke, but will set up a pool with no ladder and drown him in it or lock him in a separate room to starve. Nothing you should see, though, you'll be plenty busy drowning yourself, not in a pool, but in his affection. Doesn't spam interactions, but really enjoys just watching you go about your day and making it so that his character takes care of your needs - if you start to get hungry, he's already slamming the "call to meal" button on the giant ribs plate his in-game self just roasted. Probably has one savefile where he keeps cheating any death back.

Or are you a cute tamagochi pocket friend/pet they enjoy taking care of, because having a real pet is impossible with their lifestyle? An NPC with an everyday quest of collecting produce in a chill farm simulator? A weekly boss they lose fight to as much times as they can afford to, just to see your opening cutscene replay over and over? A companion whose personal quest they have memorized line by line, but never skip dialogue to hear your voice and look at every expression you make?

Whoever you are, what if one day something in your code changes and you suddenly start recognizing them?

[origami-trust]

CELIA: (to herself) Yes! Okay, phone in the pocket works.

Seems like Celia might be a perpetual sleepwalker (and/or, something is moving her while she sleeps)... I like her strategy that this has happened enough that she's starting to try and sleep with stuff in her pockets, so she's got options when she wakes up, like a phone. Time to get some tips from the king of Do Not Open Joshua: put ice around the doorknobs?

[sekritjay]

Bit of buzz from the Warhammer corner of the internet. I'm not a fan myself - in fact I find the whole fandom's lunatic brigade exceptionally repellent and their abject refusal to accept critique both internal and external makes even being on the periphery a chore

However everytime I hear the Warhammer fandom get excited about something I immediately think of that Raycevick video entitled "I'm Jealous of Warhammer", particularly the part in the beginning where he immediately admits that it's actually a Mass Effect video

Long story short he's envious of Warhammer's constant churning out of canon media, and the degree to which the Warhammer fandom has access to any and all manner of things they might come to enjoy in different genres and perspectives, from studios who benefit from generous licensing and a permissive IP owner

In the meantime, like the rest of the Mass Effect fandom, he's starved for any kind of content for a world he is enamoured with from a company whose sole strategy is an all-or-nothing, once in a generation, multimliion dollar crapshoot one bad day away from completely killing its creators and indeed almost did. And we're essentially dreading that the next will be that killing blow

Sure Warhammer has the advantage of being Warhammer with its four decade long business model making the IP a low risk option of video game developers but otherwise I agree that it pains me to be gasping for content. It's why I'm in the fandom in the first place, hell it's why I'm on tumblr. I wouldn't come on tumblr just for the asylum vibes* alone

I was nostalgia-tripping on one of my people's most famous gaming exports, the Wipeout series of anti-gravity racing. Yeah, I thought, that would be so cool to transplant a similar concept into the Mass Effect universe. It'd be easy to justify in lore - aristocratic scions, playboy dilletantes and nouveau-riche magnates compete in eezo-powered, gravity-defying, piloting on vertigo-inducing racetracks of staggering size and cost, with all the egotism and risk-taking that that implies. How cool would having a racing game set in the Mass Effect universe with that universe's world-building

Indeed we could even have one that would appeal to their investors. How about Mass Effect: Battlefield? Applying the lessons learnt from ME3MP and put them in a mainline Battlefield game with the scale and spectacle. Imagine this - the post-war galaxy gives rise to mercenaries and adventurers, tyrants and freedom fighters, battling to hoard power for themselves, or profit off the chaos to line their own pockets

And those are just high-level concepts. The Mass Effect series was deliberately designed to be a world, not just a video game, and it was always the intention to tell numerous stories within it. It's a testament to its worldbuilding that fanfiction writers of all shapes and sizes still continue to write in that universe despite how long it's been since our last outing there

Yet here we are. Still starved for more official media. Because the Powers That Be want a gigahit, when it was never intended to be all or nothing. Meanwhile the Inquisitor Cryptofash'es of the Warhammer fandom can freely gorge themselves on the thing they love. Makes my blood boil

*No, I STAY here for that

[tobiasdrake]

That's everyone. Time to check out the Favor Tree, then we're on to the Clocktower meetup.

So how's this work? Do I just tell the tree what I want? Do I yank off a leaf and then write my request on it?

I dunno. Given that the rules are lax enough that a Favor Tree is as simple as "the biggest tree nearby" I think there's probably some leeway here. There may not be any particular rules for how we're supposed to pray to it.

Then again, that is the kind of logic that leads to the Bystander Effect. If everybody thinks like that and then nobody wishes for Vaugarde's salvation, that's a whoopsy-doodle. So it's better to inconvenience myself, at the risk of redundancy, for the sake of locking in aid for people in crisis.

Of course, it's not impossible to have your cake and eat it when it comes to wish-granting. All of these potential wishes are things that my team wants to do once the King has been defeated. Granting a wish for these things necessarily requires that Vaugarde be saved.

Therefore, I can wish for something for myself that nonetheless adds the strength of my wish to whatever existing pool of wishes towards Vaugarde's salvation already exists! This is what we call "gaming the system".

And while I wish the best for everyone, there is one person whose desires matter more than anybody else's.

Odile, Maribelle, and Isabeau all have dreams and ambitions for the future. That's great. I'm happy for them. But Bonnie doesn't. Bonnie has trauma. If I'm going to spend a wish on anyone, it's going to be for Bonnie to be healed.

If only one of us can have what they want, it should be them. A lost child's wish to save their family is worth more than gold.

Okay PARTY TIME

Alright y'all, come clean. Who ripped the bread in half and just left it on the table like that?

Or. Wait. Is that the bread, of "breaking bread"? Did we literally break bread? And then not eat it?

Are... are you supposed to eat it? Is it rude to break the bread and then not eat it? Or is it sacrilegious to eat broken bread? I feel like the bread's just going to waste if you don't eat it. But maybe it's a holy gesture? Maybe the act of letting the bread go stale... symbolizes its Change from a state of freshness to a state of badness.

Or maybe one of us here is just a dipshit who doesn't understand the phrase. Looking at you, Isa. On the "Risk of Dipshit" Scale, you're Suspect #2.

Suspect #1 is me but I'm, like, 65% sure I didn't do it.

You made the entire feast all by yourself? I am simultaneously very impressed with you and also tremendously disappointed in the rest of us. Four grown-ass adults and not one of us pitched in to assist the child in the kitchen. I am ashamed of every single one of us.

SPEECH SPEECH SPEECH SPEECH

Uh. No. Appreciate the sentiment but you're wrong. I don't know if you have Pocket Notes on the stakes of this thing but "Everyone dies tomorrow" isn't something people get to opt out of.

I know you don't want to think of membership in this crew as compulsory but... it kind of is. Our options are "Roll the dice tomorrow" or "Find a nice place to die". The latter of which is something most of the town is actively preparing for.

People are capable of tremendous acts of selfless courage when they have no hope of survival. With that in mind, I intend to be very brave tomorrow. There's only one place to do that.

You know, I'm used to rousing campfire speeches having a lot more swearing, raging narcissism, and thematically inappropriate criminality. But this is nice too. All-a y'all are swell. I'm happy to be a part of this.

My dude, I was wide awake. I slept all day today. I was just trying to be politely still so everyone else can sleep, while quietly going over Rock Paper Scissors strategies in my head.

The trick is to not throw the wrong symbol. But to make them think you're going to throw the wrong symbol, so they play into your hands when you throw the right symbol. *sage wisdom*

I love you too, man. Still making sense of things too much to decide if that's romantic or platonic but one way or another we're tight.

Mm. Pillow beats Rock. Good to know. See, that is why I've been silently reviewing Rock Paper Scissors strategies.

Good night, Isa. We'll continue this talk on the day after tomorrow, so long as it comes to pass.

[truths33k3r4]

CHAPTER 18 - The Fight He Can’t Win

‘ I’m home. ‘

‘ I’m safe.’

‘ I’m ok. ‘

Raph tried with all his might to get the shaking to stop. He buried his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and pressed them hard onto his plastron.

‘ What is WRONG WITH ME. ‘

He paced back and forth, squeezing his hands tighter and tighter. He couldn’t make the memories stop.

He couldn’t make the nightmares into some fantasy he might wake up from.

Images flashed through his mind forcing him to face what happened for the past week. He shook his head and tried to distract himself with something. ANYTHING.

But the nightmare pushed through every barricade he threw at it. Metaphorically..

.. and literally.

Raph knew he couldn’t physically beat down his thoughts into submission. He knew nothing would happen after he threw one of his sais deep into the wall, adding to the growing collection of dents and holes displayed in his nook.

‘ GET OUT OF MY HEAD. ‘

Despite trying every option in the book of “ Calm the Heck Down “, nothing worked.

‘ Fight didn’t work.

Flight didn’t work.

Heck, even FREEZE isn’t working. ’

Raph sat down on the edge of his bed, making the worn and tired springs groan from his weight. He closed his eyes.

‘ Focus. ‘

He focused as intensely as he could to breathe. He tried to drown out the annoying sound of his thumping heart with the sound of Don’s newest alarm clock positioned on the side table next to Leo’s bed.

Tic.. Tic…Tic…

He counted how long each beat was before the next tic would sound.

Tic.

‘ One…Two…Thre- ‘

Tic.

‘ One.. Two… ‘

Tic.

‘ Oneeee. Twoooo. ‘

Tic.

This time, he took a long deep breath as he counted.

‘ One…Two….’

Tic.

Gradually, the repetitiveness of his technique dulled his adrenaline down. His hands were no longer trembling, which was good. He pulled them out of his hoodie.

That was a big mistake.

Raph’s pupils constricted and his breathing began to quicken again as he caught sight of the faded scars spider-webbed over his right arm.

No breathing exercise could save him from the return of his nightmare this time.

The same images appeared before him again.

In a blur of vibrant green he could hear Don’s cries. His twin’s voice shattered into a million pieces with his final words.

‘ “ RAPH!!! NO! P- please!! PLEASE STOP!! “ ‘

A horrible sting crawled its way through Raph’s arm as the memory refused to relent.

He could still feel the cold press of metal on his wrists,ankles, and..

..his neck.

Tears that had NO business being there decided to flow from his eyes as he shut them tight.

There goes his breathing again.

That was enough. This was a battle he couldn’t fight on his own. Raph knew when he was beat.

So he went to his final strategy. His final attempt to end the nightmare.

Fight.

Flight.

Freeze.

Focus.

FAITH.

He fell to the ground on his knees.

‘ God.. God, please help me.. I CAN’T..

I CAN’T DO THIS. I thought I could…

I can’t.

They won’t stop.. I can’t sleep.

NOTHING IS WORKING. ‘

Raph’s tears began to burn with his temper.

‘ WHERE WERE YOU?

WHERE WERE YOU WHEN ME AND DON WERE TAKEN??

WHAT KIND OF GOD LEAVES THEIR KID TO FIGHT A BATTLE THAT THEY CAN’T EVEN WIN?????

WHY WOULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN TO US?? ‘

Raph rubbed his arm as his face plummeted deep into his blanket. He screamed with all his might into the soft fibers.

Somehow his anger was replaced by something else.

Raph’s other worst weakness :

Regret.

‘… Is.. is it something I did?… Is that what this was? A punishment?? All the times I was harsh with my brothers?? Is that it??? ‘

His eyes wandered to the wall at the foot of his bed, lined from top to bottom with tally marks.

( If one didn’t know better, it looked as though they were made by a prisoner counting down the days until their sentence would end. They weren’t drawn by chalk, but rather carved into the wall by something very sharp. )

He plunged his face deeper.

‘ All the times I hurt my brothers.. My temper….I thought I was getting better.. I thought…gGGRRRRRRR- ‘

Raph’s fist swung out, slamming the wall next to him. His knuckle began to bruise, as well as a small cut had sliced into his skin thanks to the brick’s edges.

He squeezed his fingers into his palm like he was grasping onto a rope over a 80 foot drop.

Then his hand shifted, loosening and falling limp to the ground at his side. At the slight impact of hitting the floor, his hand opened revealing his palm.

‘ .. I’m sorry. ‘

This time he let the tears fall.

‘ .. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry… ‘

From the corner of his ear he flinched at the sudden sound of someone running through the hall past his room. They were giggling.

‘ My brothers.. ‘

Raph remained kneeling on the floor, as a soldier to his King.

‘ My brothers… are home. ‘

Raph lifted up his head from the blanket.

‘ I’M home. ‘

His hands rested onto his thighs as he bowed his head.

‘ … And that’s thanks to You.

Thank You, Lord.. For keepin’ us together. Thank You, Lord, for pullin’ us through. ‘

Raph wiped away his tears. They no longer burned, but instead brought a sense of healing to the scratch on his hand.

That's it for this chapter!!!! I do believe I have found a new favorite perspective to write for. :) Compared to Mikey's energy and squirreliness, Leo's slow, mature, deeper thoughts, and Don's excessive amount of detail and robotic thinking, I'd say writing for the angry blunt characters is what I'm best at. :) Raph and Lotus are also the characters I most express myself with as well, so that probably helps a bit.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed!

To God be the glory!

Masterpost <- PRIOR CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ->

[archduke-enver-gortash]

more gortash thoughts. today i bring you the (physical) fight edition!

so, first and foremost, 90% of fights with gortash are already lost before they even start. this man rarely ever is in a situation where a trap or another mechanism of his wouldn’t immediately blow your brains out as soon as he sees you even think about laying a hand on him. the image of him sitting high and mighty on his throne while everyone daring to go against him falls to their knees without him needing to move a single muscle.

of course, sometimes there are fights that he instigates/prepares to have (arms dealer days especially early on must’ve been dangerous, crown of karsus heist, etc) even if i don’t think it’s his preferred method of solving things. but classic gortash “willing to make the hard choices” shebang you get the idea. he’ll do it without hesitation if he knows it’s the best option for the plan. anyways. mentioned this before, but prepares is the right word here because this man prepares like crazy for any fight (or really anything) if he gets the chance. learning about his enemies, the terrain, etc. 5 backup and/or contingency plans at the very least. building a gazillion little gadgets fitting for the situation. will show up in half a mech suit and whatever leather armor there is left is covered with pockets for his shit.

now, some thoughts on how he actually fights. we all know he should’ve had a gun, but. anyways. ranged fighter whose aim with the crossbow is scarily accurate—i believe his strategy in any fight is going for the weak points/vitals immediately, which makes this an absolutely awful combination to go against. uses his inventions to keep his opponents at a distance if he’s alone. if he’s not, which is most times, he’s directing the whole group anyway. treating most of them as disposable meat shields probably. should one get too close and/or against his expectations be completely immune to any of his bullshit, despite his age or the fact that he prefers range and schemes, he’s still no opponent to take lightly in hand to hand combat. it somewhat depends on the point in the timeline (i imagine in the days in which he mainly acted as an arms dealer he’d be a lot more muscular compared to now; more of a pudgy old man build) but he is still an inventor, a mechanic and a fucking blacksmith. his arms and especially hands are stupidly strong. he hammers and shapes steel. again, not his favored modus operandi, but will and can absolutely break your jaw in one clean and precise hit if he feels like he has to.

[ultimatefxtools]

Pocket Option Strategy - Perfect Trend Setup | Best Binary Options Method

[bitchesgetriches]

The Truth About Unions: What Has Organized Labor Done for You?

When a powerful industry with deep pockets wants to play the long game, they have a chilling array of options. One of the most historically successful strategies is to knock the weapon they most fear (public opinion) out of the hands of the person they most fear holding it (the public). The right gambit will convince an entire generation to act against their own interests.

Which brings me squarely back to our original question. You’re not sure what the deal is with unions, because you’ve heard a lot of contradicting things, right? 

I’m sure you’re not alone. And your confusion, my friends, is purposeful, intentional, and incredibly dangerous.

Keep reading.

If you found this helpful, consider joining our Patreon.

[hildegardladyofbones]

okay final thoughts on disco elysium (post-first playthrough). major fucking spoilers ahead.

This run took me 38 hours and I did it in 6 days (both irl and in game). Today was the day where I played the least, only 5 or so hours

My main strategy for picking options was: 1. what would *I* do? this lead to most of the boring and centrist answers because I don't want to take a stand on politics of a world I don't know shit about. Will definitely make other choices in the future now that I've gotten a grasp. 2. What would Kim approve of? disappointing Kim makes me physically sick. 3. Which of the options has the name Kim in it? I just wanted to say his name as much as possible.

In the future I will definitely be picking the silliest options. I also plan on picking the thinker archetype (i picked the sensitive one because i liked the addition that he might begin to lose his mind.) and that one says that he's very bad with people, which logically would lead to out of pocket things.

Most importantly: I didn't do shit in this game. I didn't even disco. I thought I had an other opportunity to finish that quest, because I could have never thought that the killer would be on the island. There's also the deal with Cuno. Idfk what it is. Will get to that next time. And what was it that Joyce had to say? And how would've the tribunal gone had I not failed all but two red-checks?

Other shit i want to rant about. Kim. Oh my fucking god, Kim. Hands down the best character in any video game I've ever played. (Oh yeah that reminds me- I'm certain I didn't find out all there is to him). I've talked about it before (Wayyy too much) how he was so kind and patient and down-to-earth when he didn't have to be. How he doesn't fuck around. Usually. One of my favourite traits of his is that he is so willing to do random shit for the fun of it. He also doesn't take anyone's shit, like, he has effectively shut people's mouths up. His voice was also way too soothing and enjoyable to listen to for absolutely no apparent reason. I cheered and clapped when he spoke. I am a total kim-freak and I am Definitely kimfected. I can go on. about the fact that he smokes? absolutely obsessed with that fact for no apparent reason. And he's gay! I never would've thought they'd go there. I will be needing an orange bomber jacket and round sunglasses moving forward, thankyouverymuch

I should also talk about Harry. The reason why I didn't fuck with him *as much* is because to me, his characterization was very inconsistent. I'm sure I'll grow to like him even more when I actually know what I'm doing. I absolutely appreciate the constant angst he was in tho, especially after the tribunal, but *that* deserves it's own post. He is one of the more believably fucked-up detectives in fiction and definitely one of the most well-written. What absolutely seals the deal for me is the addition of his skills (?)(idk what to call them). Not only was it a wonderful game mechanic, it also made the game so much more interesting. And the fact that it's canon, there *are* voices in his head also adds to it. The narration was also on point, they picked the right actor for it. Speaking of game mechanics, the dice roll was also a needed addition. That's what made the game hard. Too bad it took me so long to figure out the logic behind it. I think I did that at like the second to last dice roll in the game. It's also, obviously, a nod to ttrpgs' that were an inspiration for this game. That also appears in the gameplay itself. Most of the time the characters are standing still while the narration tells us what's happening. That's neat as well, idk, i've never played an ttrpg

And then there's the ending. I will skip the middle parts, mostly, because they're just great and I love the story and that's pretty much all i have to say about it. The ending fucntioned as a review of how/what we did this run. Kim pretty much laid out exactly what kind of cop we were, what we believed in, how well we did the investigation, etc. and for that fact alone I don't know if I could ever stomach doing a playthrough where I don't solve the crime to near-perfection. I cannot stomach letting that man down. I will most likely be missing out on a considerable chunk of the game that way, but as about everything besides DE lately, idgaf. Kim is the blorbo of all time. Anyway it kind of pains me that the ending came so suddenly, mostly for the afore-mentioned reasons. It also kind of hurt me mentally because of how we're forced to confront how much of a shitshow Harry is. And the fact that it's so heavily hinting at a sequel that never came. The world is against me specifically for not giving this game a sequel. For not letting me see more of Kim. That's right, I will never shut up about him. I am superbly annoying about that guy it's unbearable even to me. FUCK i digress, the main reason why the ending left me with the heavy feeling is the feeling of loose ends. (I didn't fucking disco, remember?)

HOLY SHIT I HAVEN'T EVEN TALKED ABOUT THE WORLD !! I was *absolutely* *positively* astonished the more I learned about the world. I love history as much as the next history freak, but what I love more is *intentionally* mixing up the decades. The cars looked a century old, they had computers, they had ttrpgs', the year was '51 and they had disco, obviously. I live for that shit. There's also the thing that I do with my own fictional world and that is mixing made up shit with our world shit. I am beyond elated when I figured out that's what they were doing because i've never seen anything else do that. Their world mostly looks like and acts like our world, except the cultures, geography and history are all original. it's what I did because I didn't want to learn about the london tube system. And of course there are some super-natural elements (what the fuck is the pale? who is the paleworker? huh???) as well. The similarities between their and my world go on, but I digress. The worldbuilding done here was superb and so fucking impressive. Honestly stuff like "oh why would they call *their* months march, april, etc when the guys that named the months didn't exist in their world" and "oh why do they have communism if that was invented by Karl Marx" doesn't bother me at all. That is the shit i live for. It pains me that there most likely won't be a sequel, but luckily I am estonian so I can read the novel. The game being so heavily estonian-made was another reason why I bought it. (the others being: it was 4 eur and it said the artstyle was inspired by oil paintings)(had i known how life-changing this game would be for me, i would've gladly paid the 40 eur)

There's still more i could talk about, actually. This game also did some pretty insane things to me as a person, but I won't divulge the details here (also my mother thinks i should go to sleep? fuck her, i am staying up until 4am. again). For the time being it altered how I interact with the world, possibly permanently, but it's too early to tell. I am still knee-deep in the brainrot. If you really want, I could elaborate if asked, I don't care that much about privacy.

Anyway thank you for reading this rant? idk why you'd do that, i literally didn't proofread anything i wrote here. Most of it is about Kim anyway. I still have no idea what drugs they put in that character. Literally addicted to him. I think he's not just the 57th's best (or 41st's i guess) but he's just the best. in general. in every category. never figured out what the deal with the gloves was tho.

[millenniumdueled]

When the Other Yugi arrives at the Paradias headquarters, it's alone. In his exasperation and grief, he had gone and done exactly what he'd just chastised Kaiba for: running ahead.

The Other Yugi frowns as he steps inside the empty corporate high rise. Speaking of Kaiba, shouldn't he be here by now too? There's no sign of the man. Had he gotten so far ahead? Was he facing Dartz now, alone?

He glances at the deck inside his DuelDisk and shakes his head. If Kaiba were dueling, surely he would play Crittias. As if he did, wouldn't Timaeus react?

Steeling himself, the Other Yugi takes a deep breath and walks across the lobby to the bank of elevators at the back. As he does, the lights above one indicate a car decending from the upper floors, and the Pharaoh braces himself.

But when the doors slide open, he finds neither a monster nor an enemy. Instead, the soulless body of Mai tumbles forward, and Other Yugi's stomach drops as she does.

No. No. Not again.

He lunges forward to try and catch the woman, managing to ease her down to sit against the wall.

How many friends is he going to lose?

"I'm sorry, Mai," mumbles the Other Yugi as he stands and faces the elevator. Empty, save for one fluffy, white feather. Not from a harpy, but from something more angelic.

He squares his shoulders and steps inside. As he faces the panel of buttons, the doors close, and the elevator begins to rise on its own.

The elevator ascends calmly. When he's certain no monsters are going to attack, as they did at Kaiba Corp, the Other Yugi takes that moment to remove the deck from his DuelDisk. He fans out the cards in hand, brows knit tight as he looks them over. He carries other important cards in the box on his belt, and his enemy has seen most of what he's used so far. But as he weighs his options and strategies, his chest feels heavy.

He and his Partner had built this deck together.

They had stayed up late the night before flying to America, testing combo and strategies into the morning hours. They'd both put their Hearts into this deck. And now, it's all he has left of his better half.

He has no right to change it himself.

Ultimately, the Other Yugi returns the deck, unaltered, to its slot just as the elevator stops, and the doors slide open with a ping!

Just as he thought, it isn't the mysterious leader of Doma and Paradias waiting for him on the rooftop, but another, more familiar man.

"Raphael," hisses the Other Yugi.

"I've been waiting for you, Nameless Pharaoh." As he speaks, calmly, Raphael takes a card from his pocket. He tosses it skillfully across the space between them, to be expertly snatched by his opponent.

The Other Yugi's eyes go wide when he realizes what he holds.

"The Claw of Hermos.... You... Took Joey's soul too?!"

"No," Raphael corrects firmly. "He lost to Mai Kujaku."

"Then why did you take her soul too?!"

"She turned against our Master Dartz. Something about that boy gave her a change of heart. Her purpose was served, anyway. She wanted to give you that card, since it's useless to me, the least I can do is honor that wish."

The Claw of Hermos trembles in Other Yugi's hand. "Doesn't your heart hurt, Raphael?"

Raphael is silent.

"Joey, Mai, Rex, Weevil, my Partner..... Even your allies have lost their souls now!! You preached about the value of your monsters lives, you fought to keep them alive at all costs. But what about your friends?!"

"I told you before, Nameless Pharaoh. There is darkness in the hearts of humans, and a power greater than you can comprehend that wants to erase it. Their sacrifices will bring about a new world, a better world."

"You can change the world without destroying it. There's light in our hearts, too!"

"It's too late to stop it now." As he speaks, slow and solemn, Raphael turns his head upwards, towards the sky above, where something seems to move and writhe. A band of inky darkness, a ribbon of void-like shadow, blocks out the stars as it snakes across the night sky.

"What is that?" the Other Yugi gasps.

"The great beast that will bring about the birth of our new world. The god Leviathan that you have been destined to resurrect through your sacrifice, Nameless Pharaoh. You should feel honored, to know your soul will awaken such a powerful entity."

Other Yugi takes a step back, in awe of the shadow that circles overhead. The ribbon of shadow seems to stretch for miles, with no clear sign of a beginning or end, as it blots out the stars.

How can Raphael speak of darkness in the hearts of humans, when this great darkness hovers right over them?

Other Yugi returns his focus to his enemy as Raphael approaches him, removing the deck from his black DuelDisk as he does. The Pharaoh narrows his eyes as he does the same, cautiously though.

"You can try to give me that card again, but I won't use it."

"I know."

The Other Yugi watches him closely as they swap and shuffle each other's decks well. A clean, fair fight.

But as Raphael returns to his side of the roof, the Other Yugi has to try again.

"We don't have to do this, Raphael. You don't have to do this. It isn't too late to save everyone, we can face each other as true Duelists, not like this--"

Though Raphael's gaze is determined as he sets it on the smaller man, Other Yugi swears there's some kind of sorrow there.

"Duel, start."

[readingwiththereids]

yanda! speaks: hi angels! i just wanted to come on here and say thank you for the overwhelming support i’ve gotten from everyone following cam&carm’s story. you’ve all made writing and posting on here a lot more enjoyable and i really appreciate it. this is the longest chapter i have written so far so i hope that it’s not too much. about 7 chapters left before we move on to season 2! lots of love and light! 🤎

masterlist

night rain ; chapter 5

2022

The dreadful sound of Camila’s alarm sounded through her bedroom as the clock read 3:30. Pushing off of her mattress, she silenced it and slugged towards the bathroom. Today was the day of La Fame’s annual gala, where the food magazine company would invite all of their employees and their respective partners to dress up, drink and have a good time. Considering that Camila had never dated anyone since getting pregnant with Emelia, she always went to the event alone, rather deciding to spend her time catering at least one small dessert for it as it kept her busy but didn’t take too much of a toll on her. This year was no different as she was making about 500 tiny lemon cheesecakes that her coworkers had previously commended her for when she brought them to a strategy session once.

“Te quiero, mamá. And don’t forget to take Emmy to daycare before work, okay?” She whispered into her sleeping mother’s ear before kissing both her and Emilia goodbye.

The sky was still dark and the air was brisk as she walked the short commute to the bakery where she worked part-time, dragging along all of her ingredients in a large garden cart. She had asked the owner, Penelope if she could use the kitchen that day to prepare for the gala as they were always closed on Fridays. However, when Cam walked into the shop, she was shocked to see that the lights were on. 

Walking further into the room, she saw a plump, older woman with black hair tied back to reveal the permanent scowl on her face. Pamela.

Pam wasn’t necessarily a worker at the place but she was always hanging around as Penelope’s sister-in-law that only ever got in the way. She’d watch Camila over her shoulder and even attempt to change recipes despite being reprimanded for it by every employee there. She’d try make her own recipes and give them to customers which always just resulted in bad reviews and mandatory refunds, she had no idea what she was doing. And yet she was here. Aggressively whisking something in a bowl and pacing around the kitchen that was covered in dozens of different ingredients that definitely would not taste good together. The kitchen’s workbenches were blanketed by multiple cookbooks, utensils and empty boxes, with nowhere for Cam to put her things.

“Uh, hey Pam. What are you doing here?”

“Baking, what do you think?” she replied with a certain irritation in her voice that told Camila that her recipe was already not going her way.

“Right, of course. It’s just, I already asked Penelope about a week ago if I could use the kitchen today to make something for an event I’m going to.”

“And that’s my problem, how?”

Camila was growing irritated. “It’s your problem because I booked this space and you’re hogging it with whatever disgusting potion you’re trying to concoct.”

“Excuse you? My brother pays for this building, so I will do as I please. Now you can grab your things and get out of my kitchen, young lady.”

The younger girl stood in shock for a second before turning around and walking out the backdoor, whispering curses under her breath.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. You old piece of shit, fuck!” she huffed, kicking a dumpster in the alleyway which spread a sharp sting through her toe. “Ow, fuck!”

Camila didn’t know what to do. She had to make half a thousand stupid little cakes by six that evening and she had nowhere to do it. A thought crossed her mind and as much as she tried to push it away, it seemed like the best option and so she pulled out her phone from her back pocket. He probably didn’t even have the same number anymore and she doubted that he was awake but it didn’t hurt to try, right?

“Hello?”

Shockingly, she was greeted by an especially chipper and conscious voice.

“Hey! Carm, uh, I’m so sorry to call you so early.”

“It’s cool, are you…okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just, I know it’s short notice but is there any chance that I can use The Beef’s kitchen for a couple of hours today?”

“Yeah, actually, we’re not open today to cut down on labour hours, or at least I think that’s what Syd said. So, yeah you can come by. What do you need to do?”

“Make 500 mini cheesecakes by 6 PM.”

A beat.

“Do you need help?”

^^^^^^^^^

“So then she was like ‘My brother pays for this building, so I will do as I please.’ and actually kicked me out!”

“Are you kidding? Jesus, she sounds like a bitch.”

“She is, trust.” Camila laughed along with Carmy as they poured the cheesecake mixture into each of the tiny crusts. 

After their phone call, Carmen rushed to shower and meet Cam at the sandwich shop in thirty minutes. They had been baking together for hours, catching up and listening to each other’s playlists. Camila had felt a little weird though about not being able to tell him about the biggest aspect that had taken over her life since she last saw him in New York, motherhood. They had been cracking jokes and engaging in banter for the past couple of hours but the conversation always conveniently avoided the topic of why she left. Carmy knew that he should probably be madder at her, more hurt. After she left, he was broken for a long time and because of that, refused the possibility of ever being with someone again. But she was Camila, he knew she would have never done that without a good reason and that was enough for him.

A phone pinged from the counter.

“Sydney forgot her knives so she’s coming here to get them in a few, by the way.”

“Oh, great!” she smiled. “She seems like a nice girl, driven.”

“Yeah, she doesn’t exactly let up. Once she’s set her mind to something, it’s difficult to slow her down.”

“Yeah, she reminds me of you.” Cam chuckled, making eye contact with Carmy from across the workbench.

“Oh yeah?” he laughed.

“Yeah.” She finished her batch of cheesecakes and both of them moved to stack them in the oven before going back to clean up.

“Carmen?” Sydney’s voice travelled from the front of house to the kitchen. 

“Chef, come in. We’re in here.”

“We?” she questioned before seeing Camila grab a bunch of dirty bowls with the intent of going to wash them, but not before hugging the confused girl first.

“Hi, Syd. How have you been?”

“Hey, Cam. Good, how are you?” Her eyes bounced between Camila’s retreating figure and Carmy’s slightly red face as Sydney’s knowing smirk made him feel like he was a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“On edge, constantly. But surviving nonetheless.” Cam laughed before settling into her station at the sink. 

“So, what are you two doing? Alone?” She laughed in a hushed tone as Carmy’s face grew more red.

“What are you-what do you mean? I’m just helping her bake for a gala she’s going to later.” 

“Right.”

“Aren’t you here to get your knives, Chef?”

“You’re no fun, Chef.” 

“What up, lizards?” Richie’s voice boomed as we waltzed in through the backdoor. “Yo, where is everyone?” 

“Cousin, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I’m here to work, cuz. What else?”

“Richie, we’re closed today,” Syd interjected.

“What?”

“It was in the email that I sent everyone.”

“I don’t check my email, Sydney. I’m not a fucking loser.”

“You sure?” Camila quipped, prompting Richie to turn around and finally notice her.

“Mini? What are you doing here?” he smiled while ruffling her curls, which made her turn to splash soapy water at him.

“Why do you call her ‘Mini’?” Sydney asked.

“‘Cause she’s like a carbon copy of Tina, but smaller. Mini Tina.” he shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world before turning to the girl in question. “But like actually, what’re you doin’ here?

“Carm was helping me make some cheesecakes for my work gala tonight.” she replied, turning back to the sink to get a particularly tough stain off of a spoon.

“Oh really?” Richie turned in the direction of Sydney and Carmen, mirroring the former’s smirk and wiggling his eyebrows.

“Alright, both of you, get the fuck out.” The latter finally spoke as he ushered the two out of the kitchen.

Carmy shoved the bag of knives from the counter into Sydney’s hands before shouting a bye and slamming the door in their faces and walking back into the kitchen, not before hearing a “They’re definitely gonna bone.” from behind it.

When he reentered, Camila had finished washing the dishes and moved to mopping the floors with a slight smirk on her face. Ignoring this, however, he cleared his throat and started to wipe down the counters. Just then, a song from Carmy’s playlist sounded from the speaker sitting on the shelf, ‘My Song’ by Labi Siffre.

Both of them froze up at this, pausing their actions immediately. At first glance, one could easily see the effect that this song had on them but what they wouldn’t know was the extent of how special to them it was. 

And I wonder

If you know what it means

To find your dreams come true

The melody had seen countless moments of Camila trying to teach Carmy to slow dance, half-naked in the living room.

And sometimes you don’t hear me

But you don’t have to be near me

To know that I’m singing

Trying each other’s new recipe ideas and laughing together when they failed.

This is my song

And nothing can make it die

And innocent showers filled with washing each other’s hair while mouthing the lyrics against one another’s lips.

That as long

As I live

I will sing my song for you

As the song ended, the two realised that their bodies had subconsciously forced them to face one another, and there they stood. Eyes locked from across the room and sad smiles pasted onto their faces. They stood there as such for a long time before finally being snapped out of it by the timer of the oven. As they both realised what just happened, they rushed to get the small desserts out of the oven without words before transferring each of them to cooling racks.

“So, uh,” Camila broke the silence first. “I was thinking. Since you were so helpful today, if you wanted to reap the benefits of that and maybe come with me to the gala? As my plus one.”

“I mean, I normally go to these things alone so I was just thinking I’d switch it up a bit.” she laughed nervously before looking up at Carmen, who had a completely dumbfounded look on his face but said nothing.

“God, never mind, I’m sorry. That was stupid-”

[Wait, Cam. No, that’s not what I-]

[-and weird, I’m sorry. Of course, you don’t want to, I-]

[-just didn’t want you to feel like you had to just because-]

[-don’t know what I was thinking. I just-]

“Camila!”

The curly-haired woman swiftly stopped rambling.

“I would love to go with you.”

“Really?” she asked as a smile spread across her face.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“Actually, it starts at seven but I have to be there a little earlier so I’ll pick you up at 6:15?”

“Yeah.” he smiled shyly.

“Cool.”

^^^^^^^^^

Camila smoothed out her dress as she stared at herself in the mirror. She donned a strapless, pastel green dress with floral embroidery that seeped from the top of the dress, topped with gold jewellery. Her hair was clipped up into an elegant bun on top of her head and a few curls were left out to frame her face. She felt beautiful, desirable even. There was nothing necessarily promiscuous about her appearance, other than the high slit of the skirt, but for the first time in a while, Camila actually felt attractive. After having Emilia, her body expectedly went through many changes and it took her a while to recover a healthy relationship with her figure and now here she was. Not just glancing at her form to avoid scrutinising it too much but actually looking at it. She felt proud.

Her phone pinged from her bed as she moved to read it.

[Camila]

Do you even have a suit, Berzatto?

Read

[Carmy]

I can’t believe you would even ask me that.

(I just borrowed one from Chi-Chi)

The brown-skinned girl laughed at this before hearing a small voice from below her.

“Wow! Mama, you look so pretty!” Emelia giggled as she looked up at her mother in awe. 

“Awh,” Camila fawned, picking the toddler up. “Thank you, princess. You’re so sweet.” 

“Oh, cariño. You look beautiful.” Tina said from the doorway. Quickly, the younger woman noticed the tears in her mother’s eyes. 

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Mija. It’s just that your father would be so proud of you. He was always dreaming big for your future, he would have loved to see you now. Practically running one of the biggest magazines in the world, still finding time to stay with your passions, and raising the most extraordinary, gentle child that I have ever met. This is what he wanted for you, Camila. All he wanted was for you to be happy like this.”

Malik Dominic Ivy was thirty-two when he died in a drunk driving accident. He died just a month before Camila was born which meant that she never got to meet her father. This fact also meant that Tina had to take on the responsibility of raising a newborn while simultaneously grieving the love of her life. Expectedly, this caused some strain between Cam and her mother during her childhood rooted in the latter’s trauma, before she finally grew to understand how difficult and painful it must have been for the older woman to have to take care of a baby that reminded her so deeply of the man she had recently lost.

Camila’s main knowledge of her father stemmed from the stories that her mother would tell her, of romantic dates, funny incidents and more. It was through them that she felt as if she understood her dad and how much she meant to him. Even before she had developed a heartbeat, she was all he thought about. What she would achieve, how she would grow, how she would love, he thought of it all. When Camila thought about her own daughter, her mind would often shift to Malik. She would frequently doubt the decisions she made regarding Emilia’s relationship with Carmen. Was it really fair for her to keep the child from him when she knew what it was like to be robbed of time with her own dad? The first time she had that thought, she concluded that it wasn’t and picked up the phone to search him up and call. However, when she saw that Carmy had recently received an award for his work, it stopped her in her tracks. She remembered why she couldn’t do that to him and put down the phone. Even so, the entire thought broke her heart.

Cam brought her free hand up to wipe the tears from her eyes as she cried softly in her mother’s arms. 

“I’m so sorry that you never got to meet him, mi corazón. Sé que no es justo, lo siento.” 

[I know that it isn’t fair, I’m sorry]

The young girl pulled back after collecting herself to see that the small child in her arms had also begun to tear up.

“Bear, what’s wrong?”

“You guys were crying and it made me sad.” Emmy said, beginning to cry more while attempting to dry her mother’s tears. 

“Aw, hun.” Camila mumbled into her hair after kissing it.

Tina took the toddler from Cam’s arms before speaking. “I’ll make sure that she’s okay. Finish getting ready and fix your makeup.”

“Have a great time, Camila,” she continued. “And tell Jeff to have you back by 11.” 

As the two walked out of Camila’s room, she heard Emmy’s voice ask her grandmother a question.

“Who’s Jeff?”

yanda! speaks (again): gang, now i know i said we'd be back to regular programming but i'll probably only be able to post 3 more chapters this week and then i'll be offline for a couple of days on a team building retreat. i'll try do a little double update for y'all when i'm back, though. i'll also be taking a small break before i start writing season two but i already have some pretty big ideas for that one so don't give up on me! alright, love you!

🏷️ list: @rexorangecouny @louderfortheback @janoskiansecondsofdirection @thatonedogwithablog @kravitzwhore @iiheartbowie @doodlebob-mp3

[animeniacss]

Seoksoo - (im)perfect Part 1 - Chapter 1

Synopsis: Lee Seokmin likes a lot of things: karaoke, stuffed animals, his friends, his family (when they're not at each other's throats), and when things go according to plan. It's perfect that way. That is...until Joshua Hong, the Education Department TA, stumbles into his view one day and suddenly Seokmin has to start facing the fact that maybe not everything in life will be perfect...but with Joshua, that might just be ok.

Tags: College!AU, ActingMajor!Seokmin, Teacher!Joshua, Romance, Angst, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Side GyuCheol, Side JunHao, Side Verkwan, Other Idol appearances, Anxiety/Panic Attacks, Domestic Violence (not between the main couple), Joshua is a dork 90% of the time, (More Tags will be Added as needed)

Length: approx. 5k words

Chapter 1

Most people have a balance of things they like or don’t. Not Seokmin. Seokmin likes a lot of things. Seokmin likes going to karaoke after a long week of testing at school. Seokmin likes singing his lungs out to whatever power ballad he comes across within the confined and padded room, performing for the three or four friends he got to tag along with as if he were making his singing debut. Seokmin liked watching television, cartoons, and funny anime that made him laugh until his sides felt they would burst open. Seokmin likes seeing his friends laugh along with him even if the jokes aren’t that funny. Yes, Seokmin likes a lot of things.

         Seokmin likes the feeling of the cool breeze at the tail end of fall, hence why he found himself parked right on the first bench he saw as he strolled out of the last class of the day. With his backpack beside him, Seokmin leaned back and watched as the rest of the campus moved on around him. He liked people watching too; liked seeing people find comfort in the bubble of their friends or lovers, giggling as they strolled through the familiar paths of the university. He liked hearing the monotonous whoosh of the building doors opening and closing in a familiar routine. He liked it because it was familiar; he could plan for the familiar. 

         Seokmin leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he flipped his phone from his back pocket and into his hands. It was just barely 3:30, he had the entire afternoon and evening to himself. What should he do? There were many things he wanted to do. Unlocking his phone enabled him to see all of his apps, neatly placed in boxes depending on their use. ‘Entertainment’, ‘Social Media’, ‘School Work’, and ‘Finances’ all of it was organized. All of it was familiar, and that was what Seokmin liked. Lazy fingers scrolled through the options. His Twitter icon held onto a bright red bubble with ‘13’ inside, and Seokmin chuckled, clicking it open and skimming the frantic tweeting of his friends as they discussed back and forth about something he had no interest in. Leaving one like to show some support, he closed out the app and was finally rid of the pesky red bubble.

         “Spacing out again?” A gentle voice with a hint of playfulness alerted Seokmin to look up. He glanced over to see a head of brunette fluff plop beside him, two honey-bun cheeks grinning. Legs in denim jeans crossed at the ankles, and Seokmin only offered a half smile.

         “No, not this time.” He said. “Just finished class. You?”

         The brunette putting his head on Seokmin’s shoulder and letting out an exasperated sigh was enough to tell Seokmin of his feelings. “I have two-night classes on Thursdays.”

         “Ouch.”

         “Teaching is a bitch.” Seokmin snorted, his half-smile widening to one that took up his entire face. “I have a presentation on effective teaching strategies due tomorrow. I’ll be awake until my eyes bleed, Hyung.”

         “Awww, Kwannie. I’m sorry.” He patted his friend’s hair affectionately, hoping to relieve some of his tension. “It will all be worth it when you become the best teacher in the country. Teaching the generations of tomorrow!” Seungkwan laughed a bit. “I’ll have dinner ready when you get home, okay?”

         A warm hum in reply made Seokmin’s smile soften, but not leave his face. Knowing Seungkwan was satisfied made Seokmin feel the same. “Thanks, Hyung. You’re the best.”

Seokmin likes – no – Seokmin adores his roommate, Boo Seungkwan. The duo met when Seungkwan lugged his bags into his dorm last year with his mom and three chattering older sisters, a flustered freshman rooming with the one sophomore at the time who offered out of all of those who were asked. 

“I’m thinking of grilled pork and some sides,” Seokmin said, and Seungkwan was practically salivating. “Sound good?”

“Delicious.” Seungkwan smiled, sitting back up. Arms stretched over his head, another groan escaping his lips. Seokmin noticed this one sounded more optimistic than the last; another thing Seokmin found he liked about Seungkwan. “I’ll be home around 7, I guess. By the time class lets out and I catch the bus-.”

“I’ll be sure to have it ready by then.” Seokmin patted his friend on the shoulder. “You should get going before you’re late to class.”

“What are your plans for the afternoon?” Seokmin shrugged, finally rising from his seat and slinging his bag over his shoulder.  

“I’m thinking maybe I’ll study in the library for a little while before I head home.” Seungkwan nodded, eyes sparkling. “I want to try and get as much work as I can done this week so I can focus on my lines.” 

“That’s right. The play is coming up. When do auditions start?”

“Next week.” Seokmin pulled the rolled-up paper from the side of his bag, unraveling it to show a beautifully decorated flyer. The bright colors and symbols were meant to attract new eyes to the play. “I still have a few more lines to get.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Seungkwan assured. “You always nail your auditions!”

Seokmin’s beaming smile fell to a half-one again. His cheeks flushed a pretty pink at the compliment. “You think?” he asked.

“Of course! Must I remind you that I was the one who made a very detailed sign last year?” No, Seungkwan didn’t. Nobody would forget the gaudy thing, made with makeshift items one would find at the local craft store and glued onto a large piece of paper that Seungkwan waved from the back of the theatre like one of those leaf fans used to cool down an ancient emperor.

“I dunno. I’m kind of nervous this time.”

“Then go run lines to yourself like the loveable weirdo you are, and I’ll see you back at the house.”

“Oh, haha.” Seokmin frowned, though he couldn’t stay mad at Seungkwan’s playful smile. “Bye, Kwannie.” Seokmin waved his friend off down the path, the education building nestled nicely between the theater building Seokmin just left and the science building. Seokmin watched until Seungkwan turned up the steps, eyes seeming to beam as a few friends waved him over. Seokmin watched as they latched onto him, the group chatting as they disappeared behind a turned corner.

Seokmin liked that his friends had friends. When his friends had friends, it meant Seokmin was simply that: another friend. 

⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔(im)perfect🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌

         The library was usually bustling right after the last set of afternoon classes ended, and Seokmin made his way in, bag at his side and headphones pressed into his ears. He liked the smell of the library, always a sweet scent like vanilla or cinnamon that made one feel they were in a bakery, more than in a library full of old books. Seokmin didn’t mind though. Setting the bag down, he pulled out a laptop, turned it on, and watched the blue light assault his eyes so hard he had to squint for a second. Careful fingers glided along the mouse pad, opening up a half-completed essay on a modern play and how it compared to the original. Seokmin chose Mama Mia! because, of course, he did. He’d seen the American movie millions of times with his sister and mother, and the play in Gangnam just as many times. He could write this essay in his sleep….so why was it only halfway done? Seokmin took a few silent minutes to skim through what he had already written, comparisons of Sophie’s musical portrayal compared to that of American actress Amanda Seyfried being the bulk of the first page. Seokmin pursed his lips together, eyes scanning line by line until he reached the end of the essay. Two out of four pages were completed. And it was due by tomorrow.. Seokmin leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

         Seokmin liked studying the lines of plays more than he liked writing about plays, so when he ended up with the script in his hand for the upcoming school musical, XCalibur, a story of King Arthur, he wasn't surprised. Seokmin had read the story in school because what angsty teenager didn’t, and he loved the idea of challenging himself with the role of the lead. Flipping through the script, he scanned the blue-highlighted lines. Beside each chunk of Arthur’s lines, he scribbled a few notes and ideas for how he wanted to portray himself. Or, well, how the director would want him to be portrayed. His lips quietly mouthed the lines, nose scrunching when Arthur was disgusted and eyes widening when he was shocked. When someone at the next table coughed, Seokmin froze, his lips stopping mid-lip-synced sentence. His head turned towards the sound, locking eyes with a blonde girl whose hair was tugged into two tight braids. Her glasses that sat atop her nose were pushed up just slightly, allowing Seokmin to briefly catch her eyes, which studied him. He could feel his eyebrows raised as he sat frozen in a stunned expression, lips parted slightly. The sight of this girl glaring daggers into him for a mere second was enough to get him to turn back to the script, face completely resetting back to normal. Was she sick? Why was she in the library if she was sick, though? That’s not very sanitary…Seokmin felt panic bubble in his chest. Seokmin flipped his script closed and shoved it in his bag. 

He would save running lines for home, less coming across like one of those ‘weirdos’ Seungkwan mentioned.

        If he wasn’t going to write his essay…or study his lines…what else could one do in the library? Read, of course. Seokmin traveled up the steps to the second level, immediately catching sight of different people huddled around tables and on computers as they attempted to get their work done. A few were lounging on big, comfy chairs and simply reading. He looked around for a minute, scanning the different options. Seokmin liked to read about romance. Seokmin liked romance, period. There was something about seeing the progression of two people who were once strangers coming together and forming a new timeline, one that intertwined with each other in ways they may or may not have imagined. 

         Eyes darted from top shelf to bottom, at the spines of various books hoping to stand out among the sea of other romance novels. Seokmin didn’t care; he’d read them all. Reaching up, Seokmin took hold of one that caught his eye. A deep red cover with the outline of two rings sitting on top of one another, supporting one another in what looked like an empty void otherwise. The title ‘P for perfect’ was written in English and Korean, as well as the author. Seokmin flipped through the pages for a second, taking in the few words and short blurbs that he could as pages whirred by his eyes, before tucking it under his arm and leaving a book-shaped hole in the shelf where he pulled it. Seokmin pursed his lips, studying the hole for a second before sliding all of the books down just a tad and closing it up. “There.” He whispered. That hole would have eventually led to books falling over due to the mere weight the others. Seokmin liked knowing they were secure. 

         As he walked down the aisle just a bit more, reaching a wide lounging area, he caught more individuals buried in their books to study, a similar sight regardless of where in the library he looked. He caught sight of one person in particular sitting at a seat alone, not studying but instead sitting beside a large stack of papers. Seokmin couldn’t explain why he wanted to stare – maybe he was a weirdo, and that’s why the girl from downstairs was looking at him funny – but he stood behind one of the walls of books and watched the male press the tip of a red pen to his lips. His brows were furrowed, deep in thought at whatever he was reading. His hair was just barely hiding Seokmin from seeing his side profile, light brown hair hanging in front of his face until a hand came up and tucked the strands behind his ear. He….was fucking gorgeous! A nose that fell to a perfect point, and wide eyes that seemed focused on the task before him. Lips covering the tip of that red pen protruded slightly, looking as if he were almost chewing down on the writing utensil.

Seokmin liked a lot of things….and this guy’s side profile was now one of them.  

Pen pressed to paper finally, allowing the man’s lips to press together once again as he scribbled away. Seokmin finally retreated when the male looked up, light brown locks swaying a bit. Seokmin couldn’t see, but it seemed someone else was calling for him. Waving his head in acknowledgment, Seokmin watched Brown-Locks stand up and stuff his papers in his bag before heading towards the figure he knew was blocked by the bookshelf before him. When the man was out of his sight, Seokmin stepped into view, his book held tightly to his chest.

I wonder if he saw me at all. Seokmin thought to himself, though he was unsure if he’d like that or not.

⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔(im)perfect🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌

         Seokmin liked to cook, but he was neither good nor bad at it. He knew basic recipes his mother taught him when he was younger and learned some new ones off the internet. Seungkwan helped sometimes, but Seokmin liked the sight of his friend’s eyes sparkling when he took the first bite of his food.

         “It’s delicious, Hyung.” Seungkwan always beams; thus Seokmin always finds himself pressed against the kitchen counter making sure that the rice finishes cooking at the same time that the pork finishes grilling. He doesn’t mind, though. Seungkwan has always made sure he was a good roommate. He has from the time they were in the dorms until this year when they decided to get one of the apartments just off campus in hopes of a little more freedom. The rent being pretty cheap, even without the discount they gave to students attending school nearby, meant it wasn’t the most spacious, but it had what two college students in their twenties who yearned for a bit more freedom required. A kitchen, two bedrooms, and their own little laundry space tucked neatly into the corner. What they saved by cheapening out on the rent they used to keep their pantry filled with snacks and goodies, the perfect spot that the duo found themselves graviating towards for a snack during those late night study sessions. It was their own permanent sleep over and Seokmin liked that. It was exactly what he needed.

         The clock read 6:15 when Seokmin next looked at it, and he looked down at the spread he had been preparing since he arrived home. Once dinner was done, and Seungkwan offered to do the dishes, Seokmin could sit on the couch with a snack and-.

         Bzzzzt. Bzzt.

         Seokmin peeled his eyes from the clock just long enough to feel the vibration of his phone from his back pocket. With a quick cleaning of his rice-covered hands, he flipped open his phone. Kwannie followed by a string of orange emoji appeared on his phone. Without missing a beat, Seokmin opened the phone and pressed it to his ear. “Hey!” He beamed.

         “Ah, hey….” Immediately, Seokmin felt his smile falter and his other hand drop to his side. His stomach did a flip that made him want to hurl. “Seokmin-Hyung, listen. I don’t know if I’ll make it home for dinner after all.” 

         “O-oh.” Seokmin muttered.

         “I’m sorry. My friends invited me to the library to get the rest of this project done and I need all the help I can get. I think there are some books I need to get at the library, too.” Seungkwan sighed. “I’m so sorry.” Hearing Seungkwan’s amplified apology burned Seokmin’s ears, and he toyed with one of the loops in his jeans.

         “Sorry?” he asked. “Why are you sorry?” Seokmin looked down at the rice cooling down. “You need to finish your project, after all.”

         “Do you want to come back and join us for dinner? I’ll pay!”

         “No, no. Go have fun with your friends.” He assured. “I’ll save you some leftovers for tomorrow, that’s all.”

         “Are you sure?” his voice was soft, shaky, almost bordering embarrassed.

         “Sure,” Seokmin assured. “I can’t eat all of this by myself.” He giggled. “Go get your work done for your presentation. That’s…much more important.”

         Seungkwan must have caught Seokmin’s delay because he paused a second before replying. “Okay. Thank you, Hyung. I’m sorry it’s so last minute. I promise I’ll make it up to you!”

         “Make it up to me by getting an A, how about that.” Seokmin heard a breathy chuckle from his friend. “Just let me know when you’re headed home, yeah? And be safe.”

         “Right. I’ll see you later on tonight, then.” Seokmin hummed, quickly slapping his phone shut, and tossed it onto the couch behind him. He winced when he heard it bounce off the plush surface and onto the floor, the echo reverberating into the room.

“Shit….” He turned back to the meal before him, just barely done and ready to be served. Seokmin allowed the clinking of metal silverware and plates to fill the silence in the apartment as he fixed the settings on the table from two to one. Nestling into his seat, Seokmin looked down at the spread. “It’s for school…” He said to himself, picking up the bowl of rice. He reached his chopsticks forward for some grilled pork, mixing the two and sticking it into his mouth. He hoped if it was filled with food, it wouldn’t utter anything else. He had to finish his project. It’s understandable….

When Seokmin felt his eyes prick with tears, a sleeved arm came and caught them, pressing against his eyes so hard that for a second he saw stars. With a few deep breaths, he lowered his arm and stuck another bite of dinner in his mouth.

As he chewed, he knew the food was delicious. It was the same recipe he always used. However, the emptiness from across the little table in the kitchen made him question his cooking ability for a second.

Seokmin hated broken promises. But…maybe this wouldn’t have happened if the girl at the library didn’t think Seokmin looked like such a weirdo rehearsing lines. A domino effect it seems. 

⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔(im)perfect🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌

         Seokmin was sipping a glass of water, his new library book propped open as Seungkwan made his presence known. Seokmin turned his head as the brunette strolled in. Despite their red strain, most likely from hours of staring at a computer, Seungkwan’s eyes were beaming as he strolled in. It was as if he won the lottery. Seokmin checked the time: 11:00.

         “Hyung-.” Seungkwan beamed almost immediately when he saw Seokmin sitting there. “You’ll never guess what happened tonight.”

         Seeing Seungkwan’s excitement made Seokmin’s own smile form on his face, a chameleon blending in with his surroundings. He closed his book, making sure to mark the page for later. Seungkwan practically swan dove onto the couch, sitting with his legs crossed as he turned to his taller roommate. “What happened? Did you get your work done?”

         “Mhm.” Seungkwan seemed proud. “But that’s not all. Guess who ended up coming to the study group?” Seokmin cocked an eyebrow, silently prompting Seungkwan to share. “Chwe Hansol!”

         Immediately, Seokmin recalled the name. A boy in two of Seungkwan’s previous education classes. This one too, it seems. “Aaah.” A grin of intrigue broke on Seokmin’s face. “Really?”

         “Yeah. I didn’t think he was coming but apparently, he got invited last minute, too.” Seungkwan’s eyes sparkled, and Seokmin could have sworn he saw hearts forming in his friend’s pupils. “He was helping me with my translations for some of the articles. Did I tell you that he was born in New York?”

         “You did.” 

         “Yeah, so he speaks fluent English and has his Korean citizenship.” Seungkwan sighed, bliss filling his lungs and exhaling right into Seokmin’s face. “He’s just so cool.”

         “Oooo.” Seokmin smiled. “Is there perhaps a confession of love soon?”   

         “Whaaaaat? Hyung, no, no. I don’t know if he’s into that. He’s pretty to himself.” Seokmin smiled as his friend's cheeks grew redder and redder the more he talked. “I mean. I don’t know if he’s not not into guys like that. I didn’t ask.”

         “Well, there’s your problem.”

         “But I barely know him,” Seungkwan added. “I don't think that’s good first conversation talk. ‘Hey, you’re really cute. Are you gay?’” Seokmin nodded in acknowledgement. 

         “Fair point. No use running right out of the gate. But, now that you two have some kind of connection you should feel it out. Tonight is the first time you had an interaction with him outside of staring at him in class.” Seungkwan giggled shyly. “Just get to know him more and see if he’s something you want to spend time with, and not just…well, you know-.” Seokmin paused a second, lips tugged together as he figured out how to phrase the rest of his sentence.

         “…Fuck?” Seungkwan asked.

         “Yeah, I guess.” The duo laughed. “Just see what kind of guy he is and see if that matches what you’re looking for. If you don’t do that, then you’ll end up either screwing up royally, or heartbroken, or both.”

         “But I get nervous when I talk to him,” Seungkwan said. “Like tonight, he reached out and pointed to an English sentence to translate to me. He was this close-.” Seungkwan squeezed his thumb and pointer finger together until there was barely a centimeter between them. “I felt like I wanted to curl up and die. I don’t even think I spoke like an actual human in that moment.” 

         “You’ll get more comfortable. If he’s as cool as you say he is, then you’ll find your groove to talk to him. If not-.” Seokmin shrugged. “There’s plenty of others out there. You’re definitely someone to be sought after, no question.”   

         “Aww, thanks, Hyung.” Seungkwan sounded hopeful and relieved, which caused those feelings to parallel in Seokmin. “You’re always so good to talk to.”  

         “I try,” Seokmin confessed. “But it’ll all work out, so don’t stress much anymore. You should go to sleep if you have to give that presentation tomorrow.”

         “Oh, you’re right! I’m so tired.” Seungkwan sighed. “I don’t think I’ve done that much reading and studying in a while.” 

         “I’m sure. Want tea or something before you turn in?”

         “Nah. I’m okay.” Seungkwan smiled, his face now catching up with the rest of him as he yawned. “I’ll make breakfast tomorrow, okay?” he hummed. Seokmin’s smile dropped a bit, but not enough to make someone notice. Seungkwan’s eyes were half closed already, so he might not have. “Goodnight, Hyung.” He waved before retreating into his room, closing the door behind him.

         Seokmin rested against the back of the couch once more, setting his library book on his lap. He looked down at it, thumbing the cover. When he touched the picture of the rings, he pressed his thumb against it, as if somehow the cool metal would rip through the cover and press into his hand. No luck, his thumb just turned a bit white and he lifted it back up, allowing the blood to flow back to the digit. It was past 11, most likely almost 12, and Seokmin knew he too had to head to bed. Rising from his spot, he set his book on the end table and headed into his own room.

         Seokmin’s Wicked poster loomed over his bed as if it were watching over his most prized possessions as they sat comfortably on his mattress. Plushies. Seokmin. Loved. Plushies. He closed the door behind him, and it felt as if his little squishy friends greeted him, all with warm smiles to see him return after a long day. None of them thought he was a weirdo, and if they did, they couldn’t talk so they could never say so.

         Seokmin crawled under the covers of his blanket, shuffling the few plush toys to either the headboard or the footrest, while others simply scattered around his bed. He hummed, nestling his head into his pillow and looking over at his newly acquired stuffed ravioli plush. Seungkwan and he found it during their most recent outing, and Seokmin almost flew out of his shoes when he saw the little guy staring at him from the window of a nearby shop. The smile on his face hurt long after he gave the confused and possibly concerned older woman his credit card and carried the ravioli plush out the door absolutely beaming the whole way to the car. 

         Seokmin knew tomorrow he had a lot of stuff to do, such as finish his essay on Mama Mia!, and get those last few chunks of blue highlighted lines memorized before his audition. He also knew that tomorrow’s breakfast would be taken care of, and waiting for him in the morning.

         Will it be?

         Seokmin closed his eyes, his hand secured around his little ravioli pal as he slowly began drifting off to sleep.

⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔(im)perfect🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌

         “You know, maybe if you weren’t such a crazy fucking bitch, we wouldn’t be here right now!”

         “Oh, fuck you! You always find some way to try and blame this on me. Do you fucking hear yourself right now?!

         “All I hear is you yapping away like you always do!”

         enough…

         “You literally don’t even care about me, or this family, or anyone! You only care about yourself and what’s at the end of a fucking bottle! Do we mean nothing to you?!”

         “Keep fucking running your mouth. Keep doing it, Lord knows you love to hear yourself talk!”

         stop…

         “Someone has to keep talking or else all you’ll hear in that little head of yours is your fucking mind!”

         please….

         The sound of a loud banging made Seokmin’s eyes fly open, and he immediately sat up in bed. The force of his movements sent all of his plush toys flying onto the floor, except for the ravioli plush that he kept in a fucking vice grip. It took a second for Seokmin’s eyes to register where he was, silhouettes of his dresser and his end table looking like boxy ghosts until his brain assured him it was just furniture. His heart was pounding in his chest, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get himself to stop feeling like he was drowning in the deepest part of the sea, with cinder blocks wrapped around his ankles.

         Finally, his ears picked up something muffled from the other end of a very thin wall.

         “Get the fuck out of my sight!”

         “I’m not going anywhere. If it wasn’t for my paycheck, you’d be living on the fucking street and you know it!”

         Oh…..this again.

         Seokmin looked up at the wall as if it would allow him to see through it. The neighbors were fighting yet again. It was muffled, but their anger was as evident as ever. Seokmin could hear it clear as day, and he considered that a curse.

         Seokmin hated unexpected loud noises. He hated the sound of screams, and guttural anger from one person to the next. He hated the sound of banging on walls, the slamming of doors, and the breaking of expensive glass.

         “I’ll fucking leave and you’ll never see me or the kids ever again!”

         “Go then! Leave!”

         He hated the sound of empty threats because eventually they would not be so empty.

         Seokmin turned towards his end table – not a boxy ghost – and reached forward, pulling open the drawer and pulling out a white pair of headphones. There was a significantly tight knot in the middle that he couldn’t undo no matter how many times his long fingers desperately fumbled with it. His hands were trembling, which meant no matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t get the headphone cord into the port on his phone. Each second that passed where this loudness entered his ears made his heart beat faster, and his adrenaline started pumping.

When he heard the sound of a muffled baby cry, Seokmin felt that familiar pricking sensation in the corner of his eyes. Finally, the adaptor connected with his phone, and he frantically pressed the white triangle that awaited him on his home screen. Within seconds, music flooded his ears and drowned out the fighting in the apartment over.

         Seokmin saw a light turn on in the living room, and a shadow travel past his door. Seungkwan was awake….he could handle it. He may be the younger of the two, but he always handled it.

         He was the one who could handle it.

         Seokmin fell back onto the bed, eyes glued to the ceiling. His hand patted at his side for his ravioli plush, and when he connected with it, he squeezed it to his chest. Exhaling, Seokmin squeezed his eyes closed. He needed to go back to sleep….he couldn’t remember what he was dreaming about, but he hoped that whatever it was, it was better than what was happening in real life. It was a 50/50 chance every time. A flip of a coin that had a smile on one side and a frown on the other.

         Seokmin knew the coin landed on the frowny face when behind his eyelids, a familiar girl with blonde braids shot daggers at him from her seat. Did she still think he was a weirdo? Did she think that in the first place?

         Go practice your lines in the library like the [redacted] weirdo you are.

         I probably did look like such a weirdo. He thought to himself, pressing his face into the back of his plush. He liked how soft it felt on his face, like a comforting one-sided hug.        

Seokmin liked a lot of things, but he hated so many more. 

Return to K-Pop Masterlist Previous / Next

[lafortis]

you are locked in a large room with pope francis. the room is empty except for a single pistol on a table in the middle of the room. you and francis are both about a one second running distance from the gun, but you are also both a one second running distance to a door behind you, which will lead you out of the room to safety. you have no way of knowing pope francis's intentions.

how do you proceed in this situation?

Well considering we're both equidistant from two points (well, assuming you've given us equal distance regardless of our respective speeds, which like, you do measure it in seconds not ft/meters but whatever), we should also likely be close enough for me to just put Pope Francis in a perfect rear naked choke, neutralizing all possible threats (but we don't have to be, I think our possible locations are a line straight out from the midpoint between the two objects)

But if CQC isn't an option, game theory states that I run for the gun, because if I have it then he can't, and then hey, free gun. You didn't specify what happens if we arrive at the same time so I'm gonna assume worst case scenario neither of us gets the gun and we both are kinda weirded out that the other one got the gun, making this a sort of prisoners dilemma, but I'm still gonna snitch because honestly I don't trust Jesuits. However you didn't say we had to commit to one, so if he does anything besides go for gun, I can just pocket the gun and also leave, free gun. And if we both go for it, I'll, idk, put him in a perfect rear naked choke again because he's like 95 and I doubt his old shitty Argentinian frame can really beat me in a Gun Wrestle

Another option if we're exactly beside eachother is put a foot out to trip him in the direction of the gun, a purely defensive strategy that weeds out oppositional aggression but doesn't necessarily raise their hostility if they also have peaceful intentions, but we don't technically have to be beside eachother

The best play of course, assuming fear of retribution by the law upon exiting the room, is to simply run, because there's no way his shitty old Jesuit hands can bring the gun to bear and aim it at you exactly concurrently with you exiting the room via the door, or indeed draw a bead on you thru the wall once you're out of LOS (assuming they're shitty american walls you could feasibly shoot thru) so I feel like I'm safe at that point (plus fatality from small arms fire is like 20% anyway)