So I Did Something 🤨

so obsessed with player 380 (semi) atm like i’m actually buzzing from how bad i need her (this is saebyeok all over again) so uh… lowkey wanna write for her idk

Rock paper emp and scissor

Aib as cat owners part 1: the garden cats

Mira Kano was the kind of woman who wore secrets like perfume. Calm, composed, with a permanent knowing smile curling at the edge of her lips, she carried herself like someone who had already unraveled the mysteries of the universe—but found them vaguely amusing.

Dressed in her usual black—silky dress brushing her ankles, gloves snug on her hands—she stood at the window of their apartment, watching the clouds drift like idle thoughts. Her long black hair fell down her back like a shadow that had grown attached. She turned with sudden purpose, her smile deepening.

“I’ve decided,” she announced.

Kuzuryu Keiichi, sitting at their dining table, didn't look up from the legal document in front of him. His neatly pressed suit clung to his straight-backed posture, glasses reflecting the afternoon light. His brown hair was immaculately combed, of course. Mira often teased him that even in sleep, he looked ready to scold a witness.

“We’re getting a cat,” she said, and then, after a pause, with that theatrical spark in her eyes, “or two.”

He blinked slowly, still focused on the paper.

“No.”

Mira walked over, leaned in close, her voice soft and lilting. “But imagine… tiny paws pattering across the floors. Eyes like moons. Creatures who see into your soul.”

Keiichi glanced at her. “That sounds terrifying.”

She pouted, which for Mira meant slightly widening her smile and letting her eyes glisten dramatically.

He sighed.

“Mira…”

“Please?”

“…Fine. But just to be clear—I won’t scoop anything. At all.”

Victory shining in her eyes, she clapped her gloved hands. “Deal.”

They had no plan. No breed preference, no carrier, not even snacks. They simply wandered into a garden Mira “felt drawn to.” It was overgrown, a secret tucked behind crumbling stone walls and flowering vines. The air smelled of mint and old stories.

And there, sunning themselves on a patch of warm stone, were two cats.

The first, a sleek black female, was elegance incarnate. Her coat shimmered like polished obsidian. Her yellow eyes met Mira’s, and something ancient passed between them.

Mira knelt, breath held. “She’s perfect.”

The second cat was scruffier—a brown male with tufts of fur sticking out at odd angles. He looked like he'd been in a few alley fights and probably won most of them. When he moved closer to the black cat, his demeanor softened. He licked her ear once, then curled beside her like he’d always belonged there.

Keiichi, inexplicably moved, muttered, “…They’re in love.”

“They’re strays,” Mira whispered, her voice fierce with gentle fire. “They need us.”

“No,” he said. “No, no, no—”

She was already scooping the black cat into her arms, pressing her cheek to its head. The cat purred instantly.

Keiichi sighed.

The brown cat nudged his shoe and meowed once. Judging him.

“Fine,” he said again. “But we are not naming them something ridiculous.”

By the end of the week, the two cats—Midnight and Mochi—had made themselves at home. Midnight slept on Mira’s lap during long reading nights, while Mochi often occupied Keiichi’s side of the bed, despite the judge’s grumbling.

And sometimes, when Mira looked at them cuddled together on the windowsill, she smiled in that unreadable way of hers—like she'd solved another riddle in the human heart. Like everything had gone according to plan.

Because, of course, it had.

I hope no one did this yet…. Thangyu brainrot

Chotatta make a robot

A/N: Another crackfic. Felt lazy so I posted a draft.

In the cramped living room of their tiny Shibuya apartment, wires were strewn across the floor like spaghetti, tools cluttered the table, and a half-assembled robot sat slumped on the couch like it had just given up on life.

“Okay,” Chota said, hands on his hips, sweat beading on his forehead, “I told you giving it laser eyes was a bad idea.”

Tatta, grinning like a kid on a sugar high, adjusted his baseball cap and waved a soldering iron like a wand. “They weren’t real lasers, babe. They were just LEDs. Probably. Maybe.”

Chota, in his blue polo and khaki pants that screamed I work in IT and never signed up for this, glared at him. “It set the curtain on fire, Tatta.”

Tatta winced, glancing at the singed window drapes. “Okay, yeah, that was unfortunate. But! We’re learning!”

Chota pinched the bridge of his nose. “Learning how to destroy our deposit.”

Their grand plan had seemed romantic at first—Tatta came home one evening, sun-kissed and smudged with grease, and announced:” “Let’s build a robot together.” He said it with that bright, passionate energy that made Chota’s heart skip every time, and before he knew it, they were knee-deep in YouTube tutorials, wiring kits, and arguments over whose fault it was the thing kept flailing its arms like it was dancing.

“Well,” Tatta said, nudging the robot gently, “at least it can wave.”

The robot, as if on cue, sparked and made a whrrr noise before tipping forward and face-planting into the floor.

“Great,” Chota muttered. “It’s got the same balance as you after two beers.”

Tatta laughed and wrapped an arm around Chota’s waist, tugging him close. “Admit it. You had fun.”

Chota looked at the wires. The smoke-stained curtain. The robot’s blinking red “error” light.

He sighed. “…Yeah, okay. It was kinda fun.”

Tatta grinned, kissed the side of his face. “Next time: rocket legs.”

Chota pulled away just enough to look him in the eye. “I’m not going back to the ER with you again.”

“No promises.”

They both laughed, surrounded by sparks, chaos, and the slow-burning scent of melted plastic—but somehow, it still felt like a win.

Nam-gyu is the type of mf that calls the police on parties he wasn’t invited to.