#Universe Building Tutorial

[kyeterna]

Villains

Text version:

[fairsweetlonging]

svsss horror game au where shen yuan is first in line to buy the pidw-inspired rpg where you play as a wandering cultivator with amnesia, and are taken in by the cang qiong sect during the head disciple days of the last peak lord generation.

because pidw knows its audience, a large part of the marketing was focused on the romance and action aspect of the game, with additional lore from deleted novel scenes—how could shen yuan not buy this game? maybe the peak lords will finally be more than props in the background! the romance aspect seems to be at least somewhat tastefully done, if he can trust the leaks, with more emotional depth than fetish fulfillment (shen yuan swears that if there is even one unskippable cutscene of some peak lord's feet he's going to chuck his computer out the window).

shen yuan customizes his character, going all out on the clichés because why not, giving him white hair and peerless beauty and all the characteristics of an A+ wife (beauty is power in pidw), actually excited to play the game. the first part is standard, you wake up in a barn with amnesia, only a sword and some items to your name, and have to do some tutorial quests to get used to the game mechanics. it's simple enough. eventually, you end up in a village that shen yuan is certain is possessed, because all the NPC's act very unnatural and strange, and it's pretty unsettling. here, the player is supposed to meet the cang qiong head disciples on their own quest, who naturally think the player is the most interesting person they've ever seen, a super special cultivator, and will take him in because the player is the most coveted character in the universe (apart from luo binghe, that is).

of course, before shen yuan can get very far, he ends up being transmigrated into the game as his own character. it could be way worse: he's a cultivator, peerlessly beautiful, destined to be picked up by the most prestigious sect, and has his own protagonist halo of sorts. he's honestly pretty excited about this

until he finds out that the marketing heavily downplayed the horror elements of the game.

shen yuan is calmly eating a meal in an inn of the village, waiting for the next quest point to start, when suddenly,

[ system notification ]

"you are being observed"

observation level: ???

entity classification: unknown

engagement protocol: do not acknowledge

right after, the windows go dark, not closed or shuttered, dark, as if something large has just leaned against the side of the building. no one else acknowledges this.

shen yuan shakes it off. it's just a game, it's... ambiance, that's all. build up.

he walks through the streets of the town, using his low-level talismans to try and find traces of the entity he's supposed to defeat or uncover to complete the quest. he pauses beside a broken cart, one of its wheels is half-sunk in the mud. the system pings again.

[ system notification ]

"it's behind you."

note: do not turn around.

(option to suppress message: [ ] not recommended)

the street is utterly silent. a prickle begins at the base of his skull. something is there. some deep animalistic part of him is already screaming not to look.

it disappears. he earns 5 survival points. he hopes he won't have to earn any more.

later that night, shen yuan looks for shelter, finding an old shrine visible from the road, just at the side of town. he steps inside and sees old incense sticks, some forgotten offerings. it's simple, but dry. it will do.

he crosses the threshold—

[ mission triggered ]

mission objective: hide

time limit: unknown

condition to complete: remain unnoticed

footsteps crunch in the leaves outside. every nerve in him goes rigid—not human.

too heavy. uneven. it's coming.

shen yuan ducks behind the offering table, body pressed flat against the ground. he slows his breathing, barely daring to blink. a screen in his peripheral vision blinks to life.

[ environmental mechanic activated ]

microphone mode: ON

sound detection level: HIGH

a semi-transparent sound meter appears. with every shaky breath, the bar pulses red. shen yuan clamps his hands over his mouth.

something passes, just beyond the shrine's opening. large. the system does not count down. there is no timer. the floor boards moan faintly beneath a ponderous weight, something drags across the ground.

shen yuan forces his body still, trembling so hard it hurts his teeth.

it leaves. the system congratulates him for surviving. it doesn't tell him what he just survived.

it's a relief when the head disciples of cang qiong show up, and the story delves into romantic cliches and relationship prompts. he gets to see liu qingge shirtless. shen qingqiu is typical tsundere. yue qingyuan is the soft gentle type. shang qinghua acts... off. he isn't what shen yuan thought he would be, less cunningly charming, more, well. nervous. of all the head disciples, he's the only one who actually seems like he doesn't want shen yuan to be here, always looking around.

like he knows shen yuan didn't come alone.

more instances like this occur. one moment, he's farming reputation points and relationship points with the other characters, doing quests and gathering memory fragments that will help unlock the player's backstory, the next, the system seems determined to make the game hell.

it always comes out of nowhere

[ system update ]

"warning: your heartbeat has been logged by another entity."

would you like to mute heartbeat tracking?

[ ] yes

[ ] no

[ ] it's too late.

he can never figure out what's following him, what that creature from the village is, but it's always there. no one else seems to notice, not a single talisman or ward can stop or detect it.

it comes even when he's in bed, still faintly blushing from a wife-plot equivalent where he fell from a ladder and was caught in wei qingwei's arms. he got to pet the pangolins too!

he's just about to fall asleep when the system pings:

[ mission objective: survive until dawn ]

hint: do not scream

somewhere beneath the floorboards under his bed, something begins scraping. like claws trying to memorize the layout of the house from below. shen yuan doesn't dare move. sleep never comes that night.

*

he can farm intelligence points by attending classes, and being the monster and plant nerd he is, qian cao peak is his first choice (it's either that, being beat up by bai zhan disciples that aren't even liu qingge, or running into shen qingqiu).

in the middle of a lesson on demonic poisons, the system pings quietly

[ system message ]

"one of the bodies in the infirmary is not a body"

objective: don't lose sight of it

shen yuan turns his head, slowly, to the curtained recovery beds along the wall. the curtain on the last one is slightly open.

it wasn't before.

mu qingfang continues speaking. shen yuan doesn't dare to look away.

*

one day, the thing starts to catch up

[ mission failure ]

"the sound you made has been registered"

estimated proximity: 00:00:17

do you want to run?

[ ] yes (not recommended)

[ ] no (not recommended)

*

[ emergency notice ]

"you were seen"

objective: hide

time limit: expired

success rate: 2%.

do you want to proceed?

[ ] yes

[ ] yes

*

[ achievement unlocked: it found you anyway ]

*

anyway, can you tell i had fun with the horror prompts? ^_^

i just have sooooo many ideas for the player's backstory, where it seems the character is just a blank slate for the player to project themselves onto, but there is so much more to them than you think. im also having loads of fun with the creature that follows the player around, i love making it as disturbing as possible.

mild spoiler: the creature is real and connected to the player. other characters can't detect or interact with it, but it's slowly growing stronger. shang qinghua is, of course, airplane, and as he was directly involved with the production of this game, he knew that as soon as an OC showed up, that thing wouldn't be far behind.

also, i love the idea of shang qinghua being stuck in a dating simulator as one of the options to romance. now shang qinghua has to play along with his own cringy cliche meetcutes, like showing the player around, flirting with the player, and generally playing the role of suave administrator with a dark secret (he's terrible at it). he had to do the "there's an eyelash on your cheek allow me" move on the player (shen yuan), and almost cringed out of his own skin. though, shang qinghua is the only one who can properly emphasize with the player, because he actually knows what horrid creature is stuck to him and what kind of horror scenarios the player has to go through (accidental cumplane? it's more likely than you think).

it's a bit of a mindfuck too, because shang qinghua can't tell whether the player is also a transmigrator, a puppet controlled by someone from another dimension, or a fleshed out OC of the system. he's also not allowed to ask, so it remains ambiguous. until, of course, they find out they're transmigrators and shen yuan has to deal with the fact he almost romanced airplane.

shen yuan makes a joke about defeating the creature with the power of love. shang qinghua says he wished it was that easy.

[heartsburst]

i hate having to choose between values and community

[theneighborhoodsave]

V1: Willow Creek + Magnolia Promenade 🏠

The Neighborhood is a CC-free save file that explores the concept of home. V1 celebrates the vibrant communities of the U.S. Gulf Coast. ❤️

This is what comes in V1:

13 community lots

22 total residences (includes 3 multi-family rental lots, 9 single family homes)

New High School & Auditorium in Copperdale (+8 school staff townies)

Secret lot (Sylvan Glade) reimagined

17 unique households with skills, jobs, relationships, and stories that tie into the town

New clubs and holidays

Download, screenshots & more info below ↪

The wonderful Ly family in Willow Creek was lovingly created for the save by @cowplant-snacks. All other neighbors were made by me, you can meet all of them here! Pets are from Pugowned, misc. townies from @cowplant-snacks and @simsontherope on the gallery.

There's lots of little details and things to explore, both around the world and relationship wise, so I'm excited to see what y'all uncover. Please feel free to @theneighborhoodsave in your posts or tag #theneighborhoodsave. I'd love to see what your sims are up to!

I also want to say thank you to anyone who's appreciated this creative journey with me. This save feels like home to me and y'all have supported me every step of the way!

Download the The Neighborhood save on SFS

Alt: Google Drive

The save is 100% CC free! Please note that I do have all expansions, packs, and kits (except for Castle Estate, Goth Galore + Crystal Creations.) For any items you don't own the game will try to auto find replacements for those items. The file is mostly blank this time around but does include the original EA builds in university and vacation type worlds (sans Granite Falls.)

Included is a folder of completely optional skin details/eyelashes for the neighbor sims. Thank you to @faaeish, @pyxiidis, @tamo-sim, and @landgraabbed! There are 4 pieces of CC I cannot include in the folder due to creator TOU. Please check the included "Read Me" file for more information.

All builds and families are up on the gallery (@sweetbeagaming) + tray files have been shared here.

If you've never used a save file and need help installing it, I highly recommend this tutorial by @leeleebsimming.

⚠️ A couple of disclaimers here due to some existing EA bugs. EDIT 4/25: Included in that link are directions on how to avoid TOOL'd items from disappearing. If you want to keep powerlines and such please check this out! ⚠️

Everything was tested to work around these, but I wanted to put them out there as an FYI.

TOU: Please don't reupload my save/builds/sims, claim as your own, and absolutely do not paywall them. Other than that feel free to build your own Neighborhood stories however you'd like!

[making-you-in-spore]

pinned post/FAQ

TRANS RIGHTS!! TERFS GET THE FUCK OFF MY BLOG!!!!!!!

we have a source of income again, but if you like my work, donations are always appreciated!

who are you?

i'm just a guy who likes spore [2008]

why do this?

i just really like spore and making creatures in spore. it helps me practice my creature creation abilities.

can you make my oc in spore?

as of right now i do not take requests. i generally find characters and creatures i want to make by them appearing on my dashboard. refer to the Request Beast.

what is in your icon?

captain thunderhide, my main spore space stage captain.

what is peeling?

peeling is when i remove all detail parts from a creature and show the bare sculpt underneath - anything that is not eyes, mouth, hands, feet, or limbs will be removed. it is a tradition around these parts

what are "original spores"?

original spores are spore creations that aren't based on existing media - ocs, copyrighted characters, or otherwise. usually, they're just making things to make them in spore, or are based on simple prompts such as "a plate of spaghetti" or "a penis".

do you use mods?

i exclusively play this game with mods.

can i download the creatures you make?

only if the original creator of the design is okay with it and requests a png. please note that in order to successfully download the creatures, you will need to download every mod used to create them.

i will not always be able to say what mods i use to make something, so it's a gamble if you don't have all of the ones i use.

how do i mod spore/do advanced creature creation like you?

darkedgetv's FAQ is a very good resource to begin. i started there, and it's where i recommend you to start if you're interested in spore modding. it also contains many other mods i have not listed under the cut.

as much as i disagree with the process of using a discord server to contain vital information and resources, the davoonline spore modding community discord is also a good source of resources and mods that even i do not use.

have you heard of [in-development indie sporelike]?

yes. i have heard of all of them.

i hold no interest in any of the currently in development indie "sporelikes". i believe they are trying to reinvent the wheel and overall they do not interest me.

are there any other blogs like yours?

there's a few and ever growing! i refer to this as the ecosystem or the making-you ecosystem.

i have a masterpost of all known individuals in this ecosystem here.

what editor mods do you use?

a lot, so they'll be under the cut.

not mods, but highly recommended for enhanced playing experience

4GB patch - Tutorial - patches spore [and other 32bit programs] to be able to use 4gb of RAM. recommended if playing a highly modded copy, and makes the game more stable.

Reshade & ReSpore - post-processing injector & shader that alters the appearance of spore, giving it more detailed shading and vibrant colors. i use this for gameplay and screenshots. runs on GPU power, so excellent if you have a strong graphics card

HD graphics fix - this doesn't actually seem to work for my copy, but it alters the textures of base spore to be more high-quality.

mods that are absolute must-haves

these mods are ones that i use in almost every creation, and add a lot of QoL to the editors. if i forget a mod in a creature png i post, it will be one of these.

Dark injection - THE spore mod. it's likely a lot of other mods you'll download will mesh well with dark injection. you can turn off whatever you don't want to use through the installer.

Universal Property Enhancer - a library mod that many other mods require

The Smoother - a useful tool for building muscles and smoothing out your creatures' bodies

Enhanced Color Picker - a requirement for super detailed creations, enables hexcode color picking and color wheel selection beyond normal limits of spore

[UPE] Infinite Part Scaling - allows scaling of parts near-infinitely, beyond the limits of the original game

Project Skyncraft - adds new creature skinpaints

Unshackled - adds nodes and limbs for creating custom wings, heads, hands, etc. a little bit unstable, i mostly use this for wings.

Spore Stacker - allows stacking of any part

Subtle Rotations - reduces part rotation snapping

Advanced CE - adds building editor manipulators to the creature editor

Every Part Costs Nothing - self explanatory

Rotate Anything - lets you rotate anything, including feet and hands

Advanced Creature Paint - allows for individual coloring of parts on a creature, like in the building and vehicle editors

Ambient Occlusion Disabler - removes baked-on shadows for creatures

Delta Paints - adds new skinpaints

Valla's Skinpaint Switcheroo - adds duplicates of all vanilla, C&C, and GA creature coat and detail skinpaints into their opposite category

Valla's Vanilla Style Parts - adds several parts which mimic the vanilla style

Delimbiter - increases the amount you can scale limb parts, and allows for more crazy movements of certain limb parts

test drive related mods

these mods are not required to download the creatures i post, but are recommended for the test drive.

No More Creature Editor Animations - turns off the animations that play when you add eyes, mouth, feet/hands, etc

Sevan's TF2 editor animations - adds multiple animations from tf2 into the creature test drive.

Mx3's Dance Animations - adds a multitude of dance animations into the creature test drive.

Tenebris's Creature Test Drive Animations - adds many animations from within the game to the creature test drive.

EditorBG - adds extra editor backgrounds

Ramone Kemono's MMD Drag Ball - high-effort dance mod complete with special effects and a reverse engineered camera system

part mods

these mods add parts to the editors.

DroneParts 2017 - adds many mechanical and polygonal parts useful for machine creatures, i like to use it for building clothes and markings.

New Drone Parts - a sequel to droneparts 2017, compatible with the old version. install both at the same time if you want to be able to use creatures from the old droneparts mod.

Himeric Engine - adds horror-themed parts to the creature editor.

Spore Resurrection Next Steps - adds a few parts to the creature editor and several new textures to the building and vehicle editors.

Dinosaur Parts - adds parts based on dinosaurs and other animals. mostly heads.

Strange And Beautiful - a now-discontinued, reuploaded mod that adds unusual and unique parts to the creature editor

Bionicle parts - adds a few bionicle pieces to the creature editor

Little Box Of Horrors - adds many parts with an overall horror theme. some are animated.

Pandora's Toolbox [1.0] - adds a multitude of basic shapes and polygons to build with

Replicant - adds non-textured animating parts and non-animating parts in a separate tab. good for if you want to use hands, limbs, etc without them animating or adding stats

Armoured And Dangerous - adds a few high detail mechanical looking parts.

Wordsmith 2.1 - adds letters to the creature, building, and vehicle editors

Kaiju parts - adds several parts based on popular kaiju

Organic Help - adds many membrane pieces to the creature editor, for creating wing webbing among other things

Project: Mad Mannequins - adds many human body based parts. and a horse for some reason

A Mouth For All Seasons - adds alternate versions of all vanilla mouths [and all unused cell mouths] with alternate diets

Valla's Captain Badges - adds all space badge models into the captain outfitter and creature editor

Rock On! - adds rock props from spore into the building and creature editors

Anime Parts - adds a couple anime human heads and anime hairs

[goingmoa]

chronically offline

pairing: physics nerd!jake x fem!reader

summary: jake is strong in physics, but struggles when it comes to keeping up with internet culture. lucky for him, you can teach him a thing or two about it.

genre: fluff, two smart idiots in love

warnings: reader gets hit on by a guy who doesn't get the hint that she's uninterested, but jake swoops in just in time

word count: ~3.4k

author's note: my first fic!! i wanted to treat my jake biased bestie with a fluffy read, and i hope this delivered! i had a lot of fun writing this LOL ~~ please feel free to let me know what you think!

The physics department is musty in that specific, clinical way only old university buildings know how to be – too drafty, too bright, and somehow suffocating and drab all at the same time. You step in wearily, pulling the cuffs of your hoodie sleeves over your hands to rub the sleep out of your eyes. It was eight in the morning, so you were expecting the place to be empty. Almost no one comes to these optional tutorials.

Except, apparently, for him.

Jake, one of your classmates, is already there, one leg bouncing lightly under the desk, chin resting on his hand as he squints at the problem set like it personally insulted him. His laptop is open, his screen displaying neatly organized notes with colour-coded bookmarks. You spot a sticky note stuck to the edge of his screen.

Remember: you're NOT dumb!! Just confused (temporarily). A wonkily drawn smiley face grins beside it.

You stifle a laugh. Cute.

"Is this seat taken?" you ask, gesturing to the chair across from him.

He glances up, blinking once as if it takes him a second to recalibrate to human interaction. Then he smiles, slow and lopsided, shaking his head. "Nope. You're good."

You plop yourself into the chair and start unpacking your stuff. Jake goes back to his worksheet.

For about three minutes, the only sound is the scratching of pens on paper and the occasional sigh of defeat, mostly from Jake's direction.

"If this vector projection were a person, I'd square up with it in a parking lot." he mutters, mostly to himself.

You snort. "At this rate, I fear it may have the upper hand."

He lifts his head, surprised but amused to hear your little quip. "Oh ye of little faith."

"You know," you say, tapping your pencil thoughtfully against your cheek. "If you really want to cause some damage, you should hit it with a force equal and opposite to its own."

Jake blinks.

Then he laughs, and it's bright, warm, and a little surprised, like the sound suddenly snuck up on him. He leans back in his chair, shaking his head.

"Wow. Did you just weaponize Newton's Third Law?"

"Maybe. Keeps the course interesting, don't you think?" you shrug, grinning.

He looks at you for a moment, still smiling, something unreadable flickering across his face.

"Honestly? I haven't enjoyed physics this much all semester." he admits.

You raise an eyebrow. "What, because it finally came with bad jokes?"

“Nah,” he murmurs, twirling his pen between his fingers with lazy precision. “Because apparently, it comes with you.”

You blink, caught off guard, your gaze trailing from the spinning pen to his eyes, which were entirely too focused on you.

He clears his throat, eyes widening a bit in alarm.

“Sorry, that sounded smoother in my head. I’m Jake, by the way. I don’t think we’ve officially met.”

You glance up at him, mind still reeling. You’re not sure if you’re more confused or flustered – honestly, probably both – but the flicker of something warm and fluttery in your chest is quick, insistent. You ignore it. Now isn’t the time to go unpacking whatever that is.

Jake’s pen spins a little faster now, the movement noticeably less casual, and he’s chewing the inside of his cheek like he’s already regretting every word that just left his mouth.

He looks so embarrassed that you decide to spare him the added awkwardness, pretending not to notice and offering him an easy out.

“I know,” you say, your voice thankfully sounding steadier than you feel. “You’re always here early. Kind of hard to miss.”

And it's true, you had noticed him before. More than once.

He was always there when you walked in, tucked into the same spot, neat notes, brows furrowed in deep concentration. Quiet, but focused. Kind of effortless in that way some people are without realizing it. And yeah, you always thought he was attractive.

There were a few times you considered pretending not to know how to solve a problem just to have an excuse to ask him for help… but you would always snap yourself out of it before you did something you might regret. You were not about to play dumb just to get a guy's attention – even one with annoyingly good hair and a face so distractingly beautiful that it could ruin anyone's GPA.

Besides, you could handle physics just fine – more than fine, honestly. You had a knack for it, a natural instinct for numbers and patterns and solving for things people didn't always see. But you kept your head down and stayed out of the spotlight. You were more comfortable being the person people underestimated, letting your exam score speak for themselves.

So yeah, you had noticed Jake. And sure, maybe you had imagined talking to him once or twice.

But you kept your curiosity to yourself. Until now.

"I guess I like the quiet." he states sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

You respond by introducing yourself, and he says your name like it's something new and delicate. Like it's something worth remembering. You try not to overthink how much you like hearing it roll off his tongue.

“So,” you say, taking a sip from your drink and squinting at him playfully over the rim of your tumbler. “You must have a thing for fluorescent lighting.”

Jake shrugs, the motion a little shy, like he’s used to defending habits he can’t quite explain. “I just like having time to set up.”

“Interesting. Most people I know would rather rot in bed doom-scrolling than show up early to a physics tutorial.” You tilt your head, pretending to analyze him.

He blinks once, confused. “Doom... scroll?”

You pause, lowering your cup. “Wait. Don’t tell me. You don’t have TikTok, do you?”

“Should I?” he asks, looking genuinely uncertain.

You stare at him for a beat, then dramatically slap a hand over your mouth.

“Chronically early and chronically offline?” you gasp. "We've got a rare case here."

Jake laughs, and the motion sends a few loose strands of hair falling across his forehead. Your fingers twitch, resisting the ridiculous urge to brush them back in place.

“You make it sound like a condition.” he chuckles.

You raise your eyebrows, mock-serious. “It is a condition. I’m pretty sure you qualify for observation.”

"Chronically offline?" Jake repeats, furrowing his own brows.

"Oh no." you say, mock-horrified. "It's worse than I thought."

He laughs again, and oh. That’s when it really hits you, just how down bad you were. Because apparently, all it takes is one laugh to completely short-circuit your brain. “You’re making it sound like an actual medical condition.”

“It is,” you say solemnly. “I diagnosed you just now. You’ve got stage four meme deficiency.”

Jake grins and leans forward, elbows resting casually on the table, closing the distance just enough to make your pulse stutter.

“Is there a cure?” he inquires, playing along.

“Lucky for you, I’m the internet incarnate. Stick with me and we’ll fix you up in no time.” ypu smirk, lips quriking up at the corners.

“Good,” he says, and his eyes catch yours, lingering a second too long, like he’s testing the waters.

“I think I’m ready for treatment.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

The weeks pass by like pages in a physics notebook – messy, a little chaotic, and filled with things only the two of you would understand.

You start calling it Meme Therapy. Jake calls it “physically and emotionally enlightening.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

WEEK ONE

Jake is sitting in his usual spot with two coffees. He sips on one of them, extending the other shyly towards you as you approach the table. “I figured this might be part of my treatment plan.”

You thank him before accepting it.

“Caffeine and mild chaos?”

“Exactly.” he confirms, his eyes twinkling.

You sit in front of him again, scrolling through your shared Google Doc titled Chronically Offline: Jake’s Guide to Surviving the Internet.

There’s a new section waiting for you: Eras, Vibes and Cores Explained (A Visual Guide) – complete with wildly inaccurate frogcore diagrams and a chaotic collage of TikToks Jake clearly does not understand.

You turn your laptop screen towards him, pointing to something on the display.

He tilts his head, brow furrowed as he stares at a frog in a pink bonnet sipping a cup of tea on a brightly coloured mushroom.

“So… it’s giving frog?” he attempts, sounding defeated already.

You nearly choke on your coffee, laughing. “It’s giving amphibious excellence.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

WEEK TWO

The physics tutorial ends early, so you stay behind to show him a video called Italian Brainrot: A Cultural Awakening.

He watches in complete silence, eyes narrowed in focus like he’s analyzing experimental data, as ballerina cappunicca echoes dramatically over an AI-generated video of teacups in ballet slippers pirouetting across a spotlighted stage. Then comes the tung tung tung sahur family, seated in the velvet theater seats, watching the performance unfold. Finally, the crescendo: bombardino crocodilo. The crocodile-plane hybrid swoops in, spinning mid-air before crash-landing onto the stage in a pixelated explosion.

To be honest, even you have no idea what’s going on anymore.

You brace yourself for Jake’s reaction. Any second now, he’s going to laugh or look at you like you’ve lost your mind.

Jake turns to you, eyes wide and sparkling. “That’s… kind of brilliant. Like, chaotic resonance.”

You blink. “What?”

He gestures at the screen, still a little stunned.

“It shouldn’t work, but it does. It’s like constructive interference. Two completely unhinged things overlapping at just the right frequency to amplify each other.”

“You’re telling me bombardino crocodilo is like… a wave function?” you deadpan, still trying to wrap your head around the nonsense he just spewed.

He nods, totally serious. “Yeah. A beautiful one.”

You blink again. This man is not real.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

WEEK THREE

You’re late today. When you walk in, Jake’s already claimed his usual seat, along with the one next to it. A sticky note sits on the desk in his slightly messy handwriting, Reserved for: Meme Consultant. Perks include coffee, memes, and my undivided attention.

“Careful. This is dangerously close to adorable.” you say with a smile while sliding easily into the chair.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks, nudging your leg with his.

“Depends,” you respond, teasing. “What exactly are you trying to get out of this arrangement?”

He pauses, then smiles, eyes warm. “I think I’m developing an addiction.”

“To memes?”

He hesitates, just for a second, then smiles, his eyes softening. “To you.”

Your breath catches. You pretend to be very invested in opening your notebook, but your bright red cheeks are already giving you away.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

WEEK FOUR

You’re working through a tricky problem together, seated side by side now instead of across from each other. His handwriting is a disaster, but his voice is steady as he explains something about vector fields.

You reach for the calculator just as he does. Your fingers brush, and you freeze, the sudden touch sending a rush through, gentle and thrilling all at once. The contact lingers longer than it should. The world seems to pause. His skin is warm against yours. It feels... right.

Neither of you pulls away.

Your heart stutters. His voice does too.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to yours. “Guess you’re in my field.”

You arch a brow. “Magnetic, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, you really are.” he whispers, letting out a soft, breathless laugh.

It’s so quiet, you almost wonder if you imagined it.

Eventually, the bell rings. Neither of you move.

Something between you is shifting, and it is impossible to ignore.

But neither of you speaks it into existence, sitting in comfortable silencs, as if naming it might scare it off. It was still too new, too fragile to touch just yet.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

The party is louder than you'd like and packed with people who major in shots, not physics.

You stay close to the kitchen island, sipping fruit punch from a red Solo cup and scanning the room for anyone familiar. Jake said he might come — heavy emphasis on might — because he's still “not sure how parties work,” to which you told him was “a pretty hot take from someone who was chronically offline.”

You’re about to check your phone when you feel a familiar presence at your side.

“I still don’t really peg you as a party person,” Jake says, suddenly there like a small miracle, all easy smiles and confidence. He’s ditched his usual flannel-centric fits (which you’ve secretly grown to love) for a dark, fitted button-down, left open just enough to reveal a glimpse of collarbone.

You blink. Not what you expected. But definitely not bad at all. He’s always looked good, but… damn.

You arch a brow, smirking. “Didn’t take you for someone who owned anything other than flannels.”

“Didn’t take you for someone who’s been thinking about what’s in my closet.” he fires back with a shit-eating grin.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. You’re caught off guard, and he knows it. You can tell by the way his smile lingers, looking proud of himself for short-circuiting your brain.

He takes the moment to allow his gaze to flick briefly over your outfit. Nothing scandalous, but a step outside your usual lecture-core comfort zone. You actually put thought into it. Even hoped it might get noticed. It was looking like it did.

“You look really good, by the way,” he says, a little softer now.

You blink, caught off guard again by his directness, and feel heat rise in your cheeks. You lift your cup like a shield, trying to play it cool. “Not bad for someone who only learned what 'rizz' meant last week.”

He chuckles, nudging you lightly with his shoulder. “Just trying to keep up.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

You and Jaka end up tucked into a quieter corner of the living room, talking about everything and nothing. Jake is leaning in closer than usual, his knee brushing yours, his eyes soft in a way that makes your pulse flutter. But you convince yourself that it must be because of the music, which was too loud to talk over without closing the distance between you.

Still, you can’t help your delusions from wandering, wondering if something might happen tonight.

Someone suddenly calls his name from across the room, snapping you out of your reverie. The classmate calls him again, already half-drunk and waving him over.

Jake glances at you, like he’s not quite ready to move.

“I’ll be quick,” he says, flashing an apologetic smile. “Promise I’ll be right back.”

You nod, trying not to let your disappointment show as he stands and disappears into the crowd.

You're left alone.

And it only takes a few minutes.

Someone else slips into Jake’s empty seat. It’s a guy you don’t recognize, all swagger and slurred confidence. He’s too close before you even realize what’s happening, leaning in with the heavy sway of someone who’s had a little too much to drink.

He’s not aggressive exactly, but there’s something about him that tightens your chest uncomfortably.

“You here alone?” he asks, smirking like you’ve already said yes.

Before you can respond, he leans in further and adds, “Wanna get out of here?”

His breath smells like beer and bad decisions. Your skin crawls.

“I’m good, thanks.” you laugh as politely as possible, standing up quickly to put space between you.

But he follows, pushing up from the couch with too much momentum. “Aw, come on, doll. Just a little fun. Don’t make me beg.”

You freeze, your smile slipping and heart racing warningly.

Then suddenly, a hand slides around your lower back, not quite touching, but providing comfort nonetheless. With it comes a familiar presence and an overwhelming relief of safety.

“There you are,” Jake says, materializing at your side like he’d been summoned. His tone is light, almost casual, but his eyes are steel. “Babe, we’ve gotta go. The livestream’s starting.”

Your heart pounds — from the pet name or the adrenaline, you’re not sure — but you nod, slipping into the role without hesitation.

“Livestream?” the guy blinks, thrown off.

Jake doesn’t miss a beat. His arm stays around you. You lean into his touch.

“Yeah." he says almost dreamily. "The Italian brainrot pasta review? The one where they slap spaghetti against drywall while the Tralalero Tralala remix plays?”

You cough into your drink to hide your laugh. Jake shoots a quick glance your way, a silent 'go with it.'

You nod seriously, slipping into the act with ease. “He’s right. If we miss it again, I’ll spiral and lose my shit. Last time, I cried. Full breakdown.”

“It was giving tragic.” Jake gasps dramatically, shaking his head with fervor.

The guy takes a step back, visibly confused. “Are you guys… okay?”

“We’re frogcore. It’s terminal.” Jake deadpans.

You both stare at the guy, eyes unblinking, doing your best impression of chaotic meme cultists.

The guy mutters something unintelligible under his breath and walks away.

The second he’s out of earshot, you both burst into laughter. Your shoulders are shaking, the tension snapping like a canned soda popping open. You lean into Jake further without thinking, and he doesn’t move away — just stays there, solid, safe, and warm beside you.

Relief floods your chest. You hadn't realized how tightly you’d been wound until now.

“Thank you,” you say, the weight of it folded between the words.

He looks at you, soft and serious beneath the grin.

“Anytime.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

You find yourselves on the front steps a few minutes later, away from the music and the buzz of the party. You were both ready to call it a night after that. Jake sits next to you, arms resting on his knees, smiling softly.

“That was the most cursed performance I’ve ever seen.” you chuckle, bumping your shoulder into his.

“I’m just relievee it worked so well.” Jake smiles, returning the action of endearment gently.

“I’m still speechless. I think you might’ve scared him into deleting his Instagram.”

“Nice,” he exhales slowly, but there’s something lingering behind the smile, a tension that hasn’t quite left him. “I just… I didn’t like how he was talking to you.”

You glance at him, and for a moment, he doesn’t meet your eyes.

“I know I’m not… great at this stuff,” he says, voice lower now. “But when I saw him – saw you and the way you were cornered, I couldn’t think straight. I was scared.”

He finally looks up at you, jaw tight with the memory. “Not that he’d hurt me. That he’d do something you couldn’t laugh off. That I’d be too late to stop it.”

There’s a pause, the air between you charged.

“But I knew I had to do something. Because I like you. And I couldn’t stand the thought of you not being safe.”

Your heart flutters at the honesty in his voice, rough with emotion and sincerity.

“I like you too, Jake.” you smile, soft and sure. “Even if your use of internet slang is objectively awful.”

He smiles, the kind that lights up his entire face, and pretends to be offended. “Hey, I’m improving.”

“Yeah, I can tell. You’ve gone from absolute zero to mildly impressive. That’s, like, a major thermodynamic shift.”

And before either of you can overthink it, you lean in to kiss him. It’s a little shy, but it’s real. He kisses you back, and you can feel his lips curving upwards against yours.

He blinks when you pull back, momentarily stunned, then breaks into that smile you’ve come to crave.

“So,” he says, sounding a little breathless. “Does this mean I’m officially online?”

“Welcome to the internet, Jake.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

The physics room looks the same as always: buzzing fluorescent lights, too much dust, and that faint smell of old carpet and blackboard chalk.

But it feels different now.

Jake’s already there, of course. He’s got a coffee waiting at your usual seat. There’s a new sticky note on your side of the desk, Reserved for: Meme Consultant + Girlfriend (hopefully).

“You’re really committing to the title, huh?” you say, plopping yourself down next to him.

Jake looks up from his notes, his face lighfing up at the sight of you. “I’ve decided to embrace my new era.”

“Which era is that?” you raise an inquisitve eyebrow, unable to suppress your own smile.

Jake pretends to think.

“Boyfriend-slays-with-vectors-core?” he offers.

You laugh, then steal one of his pens.

As you open your notebook, you find something tucked between the pages: a small printed meme. A pixelated frog in a physics lab coat, next to text that reads: My love for you defies Newtonian mechanics. It’s accelerating.

Your mouth hangs open in awe.

“I made it myself,” he says proudly. “Be honest. Is it giving?”

“You’re such a nerd.” you laugh, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“So you’re saying I’ve progressed to stage five?”

“Stage five of what?”

He taps the sticky note beside your coffee. “Terminally online. Emotionally attached.”

You smile, cheeks warming. “You’re hopeless.”

Jake shrugs, his grin widening. “Worth it.”

[whatlurksbean]

Hello! I’ve been reading WLB from some time now, and I am still absolutely loving this comic every time.(on my 4th reread lol) WLB has inspired me greatly along with WC content and (also great!)creations by other creators to the point that I am almost about to script my own comic, with a few scenes that WLB had a huge influence on. Though, I can’t help but be a little overwhelmed when I actually think of creating one, mostly because of the fact I lack the skills to draw comics. Believe me, I am shit at panelling lol. But also l‘m a bit scared because even if I actually end up making my own series it absolutely could end up flopping and that would probably make me lose enthusiasm. I don’t necessarily want to make money out of my comics but rather show others my stories and characters that I love, but I have a history of making and posting oc art just for nobody to watch and kinda giving up.(even though I’m aware of the fact that this happens to practically everyone all the time, it still hurts) The (real)question is if there is some advice you can give to beginner/wanna-be comic artists, and how did you feel when you first posted The Recruit if that’s your first comic. I’m sorry if this sounds like a vent, and feel free to pass this if you want-just know you’re a great inspiration for many people. Stay safe, remember that YOUR well being is number one, and Love from Korea♥♥

Hello! I'm very glad you've enjoyed WLB!

A webcomic can for sure be a daunting and overwhelming thing. Most artists are a one man show, and knowing how to do Every Aspect Perfectly is an impossible task. I think it's important to remember everyone starts somewhere, and it is hard to get better unless you Start.

I mean, the first comic pages I drew digitally looked like this.

The comic lasted 6 pages before I got tired of it, and then I started The Recruit.

(which was over 430 pages long and started and had quite a style/writing change throughout the 7 years I worked on it)

You learn so much by just doing. There are a lot of helpful free resources online now a days to make the learning faster! There are tutorials on how to panel! And I think just reading comics in general is a great source of learning. Pay attention to the things you like (paneling, simplification process, color palettes ) and implement them in your work!

I think it's really important to figure out the level of detail you want the comic to be. I don't think it's wise or sustainable to put 100% effort into every aspect of it. It will burn you out. It's good to consider what level of shading (if any) you'll be willing to do for hundreds of panels, what level of background detail, how many colors the characters should have, and figure out what your focus is.

I've met a lot of comic artists over the years, EVERYONE has a different method or different focus. Creating is not a universal experience!

As for having your work be seen, it is honestly a lot of luck. Back in the day for TR I would just submit to all of the deviantart warrior cat groups and people would find it that way. deviantart groups are pretty dead now so I am unsure if that is any good now.

I personally really think ComicFury is a wonderful place for new artists. It's default page always shows the latest comic, so everyone always has an equal chance to be seen. You can be on the front page every 12 hours (i think, it might be 24..) and with a striking icon and consistent posting, you WILL find people.

It's not the largest site, but it is my favorite for comics.

I do not like the mindset of a comic "flopping." I think it takes time to build an audience. It is very unlikely for people to find your comic overnight, it will very likely take at least a few months of consistent posting to find a few engaged readers. I know it sucks to feel like no one is seeing your work, but it's just something that takes time.

Cat comics do tend to find readers faster though, so if that is your goal, I do hope you find success!

You could also post your updates in comic/art related places, like discords or post panels on bluesky or instagram. really any site or app that posts an image.

I also think consistent uploading is a strong key to building an audience. And to do this, it really helps to have a backlog. Meaning you draw like the first 10-20 pages of you comic (or however many) and upload one or two pages a week. The more your comic is seen popping up on their feed, the more likely people will be to finally click it. I usually do not click on comics I see once or twice, it usually takes a few weeks of me seeing it pop up before i decide to check it out. (talking about on Comicfury to be clear)

Once you've established you are dedicated to your comic, people do not mind if you take breaks. (and if they do, fuck em)

Also, having a community of friends or creators is a huge motivator. Show your work to friends! Share in a community of comic creators! Some things my friends have said to me about my comics has lifted my creative spirit more than anything.

This is turning into some 3am ramblings but to summarize my points:

•Find a style that will work for you to sustain a comic. (do not make 100% effort art pieces)

•Upload on comicfury (great comic site, equal opportunity for new comics) (I would also cross post to other platforms and link back to CF as a primary comic site)

•Work on some pages in private, so you can upload consistently once you begin your comic! (I would update daily for maybe a week and then switch to weekly pages, just to get the best chance of being seen + consistent posting. so that would be good to have at least 10 pages of backlogs. 7 for the first week, plus 3 weeks of backlog at that rate)

and the point most dear to my heart;

•Don't be scared of change.

I know a lot of folk wait and wait to make their comic until they are perfect artists or writers, but like, you'll never make anything if you wait for that. Change is so natural and normal in webcomics, in all art really. I think if you shade for 10 pages and decide you hate it, it's okay to change how you shade or drop it entirely. Change your art style. Change how you panel pages. Change how you do backgrounds. Change anything and everything you want. Enjoy the process and tell the story you want to tell.

Best of luck on your comicing journey, I hope you really enjoy it.

[eliza-forget]

Do you have any advice or tips with drawing? Any will help me I hope you have a good day

I think it would help to analyze references in the beginning, to build up a visual library

I was taught at university to first see the general masses, the silhouette. This method is called “general to particular”. And due to this stage, it is much easier for you to perceive the image, the composition as a whole, rather than running straight away to draw eyes, hands or other details

Starting with a silhouette also helps to create character designs in the future ✍️

Then you can already outline the construction, the middle forms. Again without small details, but you can leave a hint of them with the help of auxiliary lines.

I don't really work with tone so much at this stage, I just showed you how you can even use it to outline light shading (also common masses)

It also helps to do chopped, rough construction with a couple lines. I would generally advise practicing confidence in hand movements and understanding of general shapes. How clean your sketches are will help you navigate more easily in the future. And general shapes affect mostly how you can stylize body parts, how you understand their construction based on simple geometric shapes. It's a mistake to think that working with a reference is a one-to-one repetition of the original image. Artists use some kind of distortion of proportions, changing details or a little pose based on experience to make a character or work more dynamic

And then you can go into detail 💅

--------

I mean, already as in my experience I say that repeating or re-learning the base, which is lines, shapes, improves your drawing skill.

Because the faster you get through sketches, the faster you can move on to other stages of drawing, and still make fewer fundamental mistakes

And if you want to study anatomy, plastic anatomy would be the way to go for artists. I worked up my anatomy by looking at books and tutorials from the authors belowotome ↓

The authors of this book post tutorials using 3D models on Pinterest and ArtStation

I realized for myself that I am not a classical artist, that learning from the works and books of old academic masters is boring and not interesting to me. My approach is to analyze not only nature, but also 3d models. Analysis of 3d models helps with understanding of shapes in space, light shading and “what are occlusions” for game rendering ↓

Like this :D. But this is already relatively my old work and now I can do better, but I'm lazy

I hope my tips were helpful 🗣️

[esamastation]

Here's another original LITRPG thing I wrote a while back, which I just realised I never posted anywhere.

In which a guy named John has just died and is about to be Isekaied into a new world.

-

Upon his death, John remembers everything - and promptly fist pumps the universe. "Oh, hell yeah!"

Before him floats the Tutorial. "Welcome back, Ser Afathion - or do you prefer Mr. John Castle?"

"Just call me John, please," John says, grinning from ear to ear. "Man, that was a good life! How did I do, how are my points? Bet I got a whole bunch from that war! And the relationships - that love triangle must've netted me a fortune!"

"You did very well indeed, John," the Tutorial says and produces a logbook - a glowing rectangle of text that hangs in the air between them. "Your life as John Castle was evaluated at 4.7 million System Credits. Congratulations."

"Awww yes!" John pumps his fist again. "Damn, but Earth is good for points!"

"Indeed. Would you like to take a look at your balance sheet?"

"Yes please!"

Another glowing window of text appears, detailing the arcs of John Castle's life and their worth. By themselves the events of his life weren't worth much, but the various roles he'd played stacked up to a decent enough point total. He'd played minor roles in three big war narratives that had had a decent following, and though he wasn't the main character in the love triangle, his ex ended up as a popular drama lead with a big following. And apparently he'd played the part of an enemy for three different people!

Though it's a bit disappointing that his life hadn't gotten him the Protagonist title, John's fine having played the side and background characters in the lives of more interesting people. His life was nice, if a bit short, and he could've done much worse than 4.7 million credits.

The Tutorial shoots a party popper over him, and John beams happily. "Did I get any sponsors?"

"No, but you received these offers," the Tutorial says, and a number of logos appear in the air, arrayed in a grid. Some of them offer discounts, others promise unique opportunities and a couple proclaim to be spiritually the healthy option.

John dismisses those ones off hand and points at the one that caught his eye first. "The Adventure Guild? Aren't they fully booked for, like, centuries?"

"There was a war on the server," the Tutorial explains. "Over a million characters died, and they're looking to repopulate."

"Huh. And their character packages?"

The Tutorial shows him the standard packages for the Adventure Guild's server. They start from low level mob and peasant packages that cost a few hundred thousand - and have the expected lifespan of a couple decades at most - to a high elf noble package that costs billions of credits and might last for a couple of millennia. The best John could afford in the Adventure Guild's Server is a merchant family with 10 extra stats points to start with - stat points?

"Stat points?" John asks.

"The Adventure Guild server is System Enabled," the Tutorial explains. "These are all transmigration packages."

"Get outta here! Transmigration package, me? In an Adventure Guild server?" John sputters, and then narrows his eyes. "Those things cost a fortune! What's the catch?"

"It's part of a new World Narrative the Adventure Guild is starting," the Tutorial explains. "They're looking specifically for players that have just come from Earth - your last life will be the one you'll be transmigrating from."

"Wow," John murmurs, wondering what kind of story the Adventure Guild might be building up. They're pretty known for their big narratives, and they're super popular as galactic entertainment goes - there's a reason why even cheap roles in their server are always fully booked. Even playing the part of collateral damage in a random bar fight on Adventure Guild server could net you pretty decent royalties. Never mind being hella fun.

If they've opened the server to someone like him, that means the place probably has a lot of new players. And that usually means there's a big thing coming, a war or apocalypse or something, and they needed a lot of fresh cannon fodder. And a bunch of Earth transmigrations in a post war Adventure Guild server?

"I am so in," John breathes excitedly. "What kind of customisation options do I have?"

"These are the species available," the Tutorial says and pops open a whole array of character customisation windows. "From the most affordable to the less so."

"And stat points?"

"Each race starts with a set amount specific for the race. Extra points cost a hundred thousand System credits per point."

So, basically, John could be a goblin with a lifespan of twenty years and start with 44 extra points to allocate as he chose, or he could become a dwarf orphan with an estimated lifespan of three hundred years, but he'd be starting without any extra stat points. The human merchant family with extra 10 points is pretty good value for his money, honestly, seeing as humans already start with 10, but… it sounded pretty boring.

Running a hand over his chin John tried to think of how to make most of this opportunity. "What's the cost of ambitions in the server? How about natural talents?"

A lot, it turns out. Good ambitions cost millions, as did talents. Dang, but Adventure Guild is expensive.

"You start with all of John Castle's knowledge," the Tutorial reminds him. "And his ambitions."

Sure, but John Castle's biggest ambition in the end was owning a nice car and not dying of cancer - and he'd failed in both, pretty much. He can't even remember if he had any life goals when he'd been a young man. Probably not, seeing as he hadn't really amounted to much. It's why he hadn't gained more points during his life - he'd gone into that life without any interesting traits, and it showed. He'd lived and died pretty quietly.

It would be nice to live a little more interesting life this time.

"Let's try random generation," John says. "Maybe I'll get some ideas."

Obligingly the Tutorial opens an empty character creation screen, and John inserts the number of credits he wants to use, 3 million. That way he'd have 1.7 million to spend on stat points and other things.

The first he gets is an awakened dog with high stamina and potential as a special mount. The second is an orc from an exiled clan - classic minor enemy encounter fodder. The third is a bird familiar with fire abilities - which is honestly a little tempting, though he wouldn't be able to speak, except to his master.

"Rule out non-humanoid creatures," John decides and folds his arms. "I want to be able to speak and, you know, have hands."

"Limiting selection to creatures when hands and the ability to speak "

The selection is limited indeed. Peasant human born to farmers, ghoul foot soldier, peasant human born to a tavern wench, skeleton serving a necromancer, orphan peasant human, sickly elf with a lifespan of five years, peasant human born to a smith…

"Perhaps we could narrow the search criteria," the Tutorial suggests. "What kind of life are you interested in living?"

"Something loud and bombastic," John says and thinks about it. "Since it's basically a fantasy world, I want to fight a bunch. Like, properly fight, not just be caught in the crossfire as a poor hapless victim - I wanna be the person running headlong into trouble because it's fun, you know? Like, you know, a good old style fantasy adventure protagonist."

The Tutorial considers it for a moment and then says.  "You do not have enough credits for the protagonist tag. However I have sent a query to the Adventure Guild, and they have a suggestion. Would you like to take on a curse?"

John perks up interestedly. "What kind of curse? Would it cost me points, or would it award me points?"

In answer the Tutorial opens up a status window - with a whole dropdown menu of available options. And it turns out that while most curses had a cost, there were some curses that would give John extra System credits to use. Sadly he could only choose one, but even so…

The curse that would give him the most was called the Puppet Curse, which would give a viewer - or a Server Admin - the ability to puppeteer him for a while if they paid him for it. It was worth a million just by itself - with the potential of being paid more as the curse was being used.

"Dayyym," John murmurs. "That's interesting."

It kinda seems like a quick way to get himself killed, though - he can just imagine some bored rich viewer using him to instigate a war just for fun, and then he'd be hanging by the neck in the nearest tree. No thank you!

The next most profitable curse was the Mouthpiece which was kind of the same as Puppet Curse, but it basically would make him say things the viewers - or admin - wanted him to say. Very useful for instigating drama! Also a good way to get himself killed.

The curses that cost him rather than awarding him points are a bit better. Designed to make things more interesting, they range from the Werewolf Curse - 1.5 million - to Curse of Sleepwalking - 400 thousand. There's a whole lot of different ones, some more interesting than others, and the one that catches his eye is the Bad Luck Curse. At 750 thousand credits it's not cheap but it looks like it would definitely make things interesting for him.

… or get him killed.

Ugh. It's this kind of hemming and hawing that made his previous life kinda boring!

"You know what, to hell with it," John says, turning to the Tutorial. "Can I send a question to the Server Admins? I want to know if there's a way to limit the Puppet Curse to Admin use only - it seems like the most interesting one, but I don't like the idea of a random viewer using it and getting me killed for kicks."

"I will send the query," the Tutorial says. There's a moment of silence, during which John idly hits the randomiser on the character customisation screen, trying to settle on a character. Human, human, orc, human, goblin, human, human, human, skeleton, human, human, human… Well, as a human he could start with as many as 27 stat points, assuming he spent 1.7 million on extra points, which definitely isn't bad, but… it's so boring.

Why does everything more interesting have to be so expensive?

Then the Tutorial opens a contract screen.

[Puppet's Very Specific Curse] [Contract]

[The undersigned hereby accepts the Puppet's Very Specific Curse for their character for the duration of their stay in the Adventure Guild's server. The victim of this curse can be at any moment subjected to System control, and can be piloted by any employee of the Adventure Guild, to do with as they wish. The undersigned hereby acknowledges that Adventure Guild is in no way responsible for any spiritual, emotional or mental damages caused by this curse.]

[Time limit: ?] [Mana cost: ?] [Cure: ?] [Reward: 1 000 000 store credits now and 1 stat points per activation]

John reads through the screen once, twice, three times, and then looks at the Tutorial. "Store credits only - and no credits per activation?"

"Without viewer participation, the Guild isn't expecting any returns, so, no," the Tutorial agreed. "And you must remember, the Server Admins already have their own characters and do not need an agent on the server. You might come in handy, but you're not necessary."

"Fair enough," John muses, shrugs his shoulders and then accepts the contract. One stat point per activation is way too good to pass by, even if it's not as good as a flat fee of System credits would've been. "Alright, 5.7 million credits to use! Ka-ching! Here's hoping I won't regret this."

"You won't - you will have no knowledge of it," the Tutorial says ominously. "You won't remember any of this, only your life as John Castle."

"Sounds like I'm in for some interesting times, then," John says, grinning. It's about time, too. "Now, any chance of talking down the price on the Bad Luck Curse? No? Alright, let's try the randomiser again, shall we?"

-

If you guys remember that series poll I did a while back, making a generic fantasy character who then turned into a fox beast person Bard, lol. I wrote 6 chapters of this, and then it sort of petered off - but I still like it.

... I didn't even give the poor story a name, it's just called "LITRPG" in my files, haha

[kyeterna]

OC-tober day 15 prompt: meme

Featuring K.A., Kali, Adam, Kaylyn and Eri from Universe Building Tutorial (first just one of those draw your ocs prompts and then just normal meme edits)

Sixteen teenagers are tasked with the creation of a universe, problem is three of them are control freaks and half of the others don't get along well. Plus there is no tutorial out there for how to achieve such a thing. Who let a bunch of teens handle such an important task-

For this prompt I only chose five of the characters. The afformentioned control freaks are K.A. and Kali (Denis is not present here), while the other 3 are chosen because: Adam is K.A.'s unfortunate guyfailure punching bag, Kaylyn (gay intent), and I really really love Eri's design (plus despite her overall foul behaviour she s one of the few people that can get along with K.A. so i thought it would make sense for her to be here)

I could go on for days for the complicated dynamics between all sixteen members of the cast but this is not the relationship prompt entry.

From bweirdart's OC-tober prompt:

While I am doing this challenge mostly to keep an archive of my characters on tumblr (and to incentivise myself to draw them), if you, person stumbling upon this post, are curious and wanna learn more, my askbox is open >:3c

[withlovenavi]

chapter 3: the photo

pro!ushijima, who is the most offline man possible as a professional athlete, is focused reading the terms and conditions of instagram. he’s in his grey couch, after an intense workout, wet hair, thin metal glasses barely in his nose, grey sweatpants and an old tshirt from genji university.

during your morning call, you rambled about something about instagram stories and how a friend reacted. or something like that. ushijima didn’t really understood the problem but you seemed to pick up that he wasn’t following.

“just tell me your instagram and you’ll see everything.”

“i don’t have instagram.”

you went silent. ushijima wondered if he said something to upset you like that friend.

something happened on the train and you started telling him about him, happily chatting until you came to your office.

after two hours of reading all terms and conditions, a tutorial, a various attempts of setting an username, ushijma was officially on instagram.

his first follower is you.

you are quite giggly when he told you. immediately, you help him to get more things done (a profile photo, a biography, how to follow others, some instagram etiquette…). something he find incredible grateful it’s that you don’t seem weirded out whenever he asked if he didn’t understand. you even try to explain the logic behind them. you, in some ways, reminds him of satori and both of you are in his top favorite people.

the news of ushijima wakatoshi having an instagram account spread wilde. in less than 24 hours, he became one of the most followed volleyball players.

from his manager, he received praise and encouragement to be more active on social media. his current teammates greed him with his new username (ushijima is 75% sure they’re teasing him), his former teammates demand a follow back.

at some point, between oikawa endless tips, satori insistence and his agent talk about the importance of being present on social media, ushijima takes a photo at the big mirror of the lobby of his building after his 5am run and, without any second thoughts.

ushijima wakatoshi has never had his phone blow up by so many notifications.

masterlist

chapter 4: the pet name

🌸 @ultracheesesideboob 🌸

[marticoresims]

My Rotational Gameplay System

Hi! There's a video on my channel about how I play rotationally, but some info there is outdated. I figured a post can always be edited, so it's a better way to share how I play The Sims 2.

What is rotational gameplay?

Playing rotationally means that you play multiple households for the same number of days, jumping from one to the other in rounds. This way, you keep the households even, have story progression in all of them, and then you can make them interact, intertwine and merge into new families, not leaving any playable Sim behind.

If you play two-three households and leave the rest unplayed, that's also rotational gameplay. There's no right or wrong way to play The Sims 2!

Setting up the neighborhood

First of all, stealth hoods. I don't want all the same Sims appearing in my family bin over and over, so I made the stealth hoods empty. This tutorial shows how to do it, but it's actually more simple than that – just go into those folders and delete all files in 'Characters'. DO NOT do it in the Documents directory!

Second, I think of which subhoods make sense for this neighborhood. I hardly ever add Downtown. Vacation destinations depend on what I need, I usually add one during gameplay if I'm planning a vacation (which is rare). I like to have one, max two university hoods, especially if they include pre-made Sims. And Bluewater Village is completely redundant, but I sometimes make my own shopping district as an extra area. For example, in my Pleasantview 2.0 I made "Goth Square" that is kind of like a downtown district with apartment buildings, restaurants, clubs etc.

Sometimes I'll tinker with seasons, e.g. Strangetown seems like warm climate, so I might turn off winter in it. Riverblossom Hills must stay default, though.

Basics and keeping track

One round is 4 days for most of my neighborhoods. Some people do it by days of the week or seasons in-game, but I can't be bothered synchronizing my neighborhood after someone moves out and it's again a summer Monday for them. If it's Thursday in the middle of winter in another household at the same time, I really don't mind.

I'm an old school gal when it comes to taking notes to keep track of played days. I have a paper notebook with the grid pattern and mark rounds as squares – each line is one day. I have a whole list of families named by last names mostly, but if a last name repeats (which is often), I either sign them with one of the Sims' first name or their last name + initials. For example, in Riverblossom Hills I have families named Roth (for the "main" Roth family still living in the original house) and Roth LF (Roth – Larch & Fiona).

These days, I use erasable pens in my notes, so no crossing out if a family merges with another or changes its name. For marking days, I still like to use a simple pencil. For side notes (such as planning someone's career or matchmaking) I either use sticky notes or draw a special square and use the erasable pens again to take easily erasable notes. If there's no space on the page anymore, I move onto another. I always keep the old pages, though! I have them pinned in the back of the notebook. Also, I only use notebooks that have tabs of different colors and each neighborhood has its color. Blue for Pleasantview, green for Strangetown, purple for Veronaville, orange for Riverblossom Hills etc. I like to match pen colors to it as well. Yes, I do have ideasthaesia.

For more "serious" neighborhoods I have an additional document on my PC in table form where I plan out the storytelling. I pretty much only have it for my Youtube let's play neighborhoods like Townieville. Fun fact: I have two separate notebooks for "work neighborhoods" and "private neighborhoods". The work one is in smaller format 😂

Here's a fragment of my Townieville notes (the Bendett-LeTourneau family takes too much space when spelled out lol):

As for aging, I made my own custom lifespan that mimics real life years (1 day = 1 year). However, I only age up Sims at "1 day away" (aka the orthodox way) when they're babies and teenagers. Babies because I want them to be 1 year old as toddlers (only Nopke somehow figured out a way to make the baby stage actually 1 day), and teenagers to give them time to attend college. In all the other stages, I wait until the last minute for them to age up on their own. I would never remember to age them up manually or throw parties, also the 1 extra day would make it difficult for me to count their age. That results in the elder stage starting at "57 days old", but I count it as 60 years old. I like to know how old my Sims are for context, that's all.

Population

My limit for one neighborhood is 16 families. If there's more, one round takes forever and I lose interest. In my old Pleasantview, I finally managed to lower the number of families from 24 to 18 and still going. It feels great! So, as you see, I can't do an uberhood/megahood.

To stop my neighborhood from expanding too much, I simply don't make too many kids. I have pretty strict rules that are based on aspirations: Family+Family is 3 kids, Family+Other is 2 kids, Other+Other is 1 kid. If both Sims have family as a secondary aspiration (and I remember that they do), I'll make them have two. It has been working pretty well, but I'm open to changes in the future. Sometimes I will even impregnate a Sim with InSimenator instead of naturally to make sure it's not twins.

I mark every birth on a certain day as a dot and letter (B/G – boy/girl) and plan newborns in advance to have babies be born at a similar time and with balanced genders, so I can match them later. Of course I do have same-sex couples and big-age-difference couples as well. It all comes out when the babies get older, but synchronizing births creates a solid basis. Usually there are no more than 4 kids born in one round.

I love townies, but I avoid bringing them into the neighborhood as much as I can (it expands the population). If two playables are not related and have the potential to be together, I'll tinker with their chemistry to make it happen. I have this mod to help me avoid marrying second-cousins, even if it's not really that big a deal in real life. I do follow chemistry very much in matchmaking though, so if there's any decision to be made between two Sims, I'll always go for the one with the higher chemistry (sort by chemistry and choose the one that appears first – even if the bolts are the same, they are sorted by points).

Wants & Fears

I like to say that I play half-wants-based. I especially like to use wants to avoid having only wealthy families. How? Only if they roll a want of getting a skill point, I'll prioritize career skill points and let them get promoted. Otherwise, they might stay at the same level for years and do other things instead such as hobbies. Even if their lifetime want is the top of a career – the Sims are responsible for progressing in their careers. I don't lock the skill wants either, only the promotion ones if a promotion is guaranteed. But keep in mind that I use mods for no friends needed for careers and less often promotions (I changed it to 85%). That way, some Sims struggle financially, some just have enough to pay the bills, some accumulate money very slowly, and some become rich fast. It's true that it's fortune Sims that usually reach the top of their careers, knowledge Sims are second place, but isn't that actually realistic? If a Sim's lifetime want is anything other than a career, I realize they won't get everyday wants regarding that LTW (unless it's a knowledge Sim with "Max out 7 skills"), so I will push them towards it, but still, not every Sim completes their lifetime want. Also, I use 50 New LTWs and Slower LTA Gain. Homework works a similar way. Since, without mods, your Sims are either failing or having an A+, I use the School Grade Mod for more grade variations, but also base doing homework on the child or teen's wants. If they have any wants about education (private school, college, fear to go to school because of bad grades), they do their homework that day. Also, on weekends I make them catch up on homework if they're not busy.

I do like to listen to what my Sims want to do, but if the want is ridiculous (like wanting to get married to 3 Sims at once for Romance Sims on dates), I'll ignore it. I only use wants or lack thereof for more variety and less decision-making. I use a lot of mods that change wants as well, such as Fewer Hobby Wants. What about pets? If more than half of the household has corresponding wants to get a pet, I'll get them one.

Decisions

Deciding makes me anxious. I want gameplay to be fun and the Sims to be their own people. That's why I have certain rules for choosing aspirations and careers. Here's my entire calculator that saves me in choosing careers. For aspirations, I only use the calculator sometimes if I'm not sure, but usually I look at the Sim's personality and can easily see their aspiration based on traits. Obviously I make exceptions to that rule, I WILL have a grouchy Family Sim from time to time. But I do that only if I feel a certain vibe, so no decision is needed either, I just know this Sim will be the exception. Sometimes, I make exceptions to also differentiate Sims from their parents, as personality is genetic for the most part, so it's likely for two Knowledge Sims to “produce” another Knowledge Sim and I'd like to avoid repetition. Especially with Family Sims, as with my population system it might lead to one family dominating the neighborhood. Family+Family having 3 kids and all of them with the Family aspiration? Not on my watch!

In families of more than one child, how do I decide who moves out and who stays home as an adult? If there are no other factors influencing it, the youngest child stays because the older ones moving out will create the space for the next generation. But it varies based on what housing situation the potential partner has. Oh, yeah, I don't play with elders only, that's boring.

How do I decide who changes their name at marriage? These days, I like to keep the OG last names, so if there's a townie marrying into a pre-made family, I'll keep the pre-made family's name. Gender doesn't matter. If it's two pre-mades getting married, I decide based on how many other Sims there are with that last name (do the Sims have siblings?). It's real tactical work sometimes. If I want to keep both, a hyphenated name is always an option too.

Random events

Not a lot of random events happen in my game. Mostly it's just Sims cheating. I have ACR's risky woohoo set to zero most of the time. I do have some mods that make Sims' lives more risky like more dangerous fires (this version is edited to work with the fire safety skill) or death by childbirth. But if someone dies untimely, they die. Especially if they've already had kids (which sounds cruel lol, but my gameplay is based on legacy and genetic continuity). I also ignore chance cards because they make my game too hectic, and my Sims don't get promoted too much, so I don't need the difficulty. I'll only click on them (randomly without reading) if a family is exceptionally boring.

University

One round is 4 days, that means 4 years, so I guess it would make sense to play the "empty nest" once the offspring is in college. But I don't do that. College is frozen time. In my game, the teenager stage is 9 days – from 13 to 22. It would be too short if I treated university as passing time, as 22 is when US college students graduate. So, I mark a dot with the letter C whenever someone is "1 day away" and ready for college. It's often for the future more than the past, as I like to send a few Sims at once (you know, the babies marked 22 days earlier), so I plan ahead and need to know how many days left. I also send them to college according to their age (even if I don't have to do that with frozen time, it's fun to do), so if there's 2 years difference between Sims, one of them will be a Freshman when the other one is already a Junior. Also, not everyone goes to college! It's wants-based, again. If the teen has the want to go to college the very last morning of their teen stage, they go immediately. And again, exceptions. Sometimes I'll lock in the college want because I just can't imagine that Sim not going to college. I have the No Memory Uneducated mod to stop Sims who didn't want to go to college from crying about it. My university gameplay is the most strictly wants-based, to avoid having all Sims graduate with honors. Don't have a want to gain skill points, but fear academic probation? We're doing bare minimum. That kinda thing. The only want I lock in is "Make Dean's List" because it's pretty rare, and without it I was ending up with 3.2 GPA for every single Sim. This want means we're doing everything to get the highest grade possible.

Supernatural Sims

I'm not a fan of supernatural in The Sims (unless it's Planet Alades). The only occult I absolutely LOVE is ALIEN. I will have aliens in nearly every neighborhood. No Multi PT mod needed. PlantSims are cool too, but only in neighborhoods where they appear from the start. Very rarely do I let my Sims become werewolves, or especially vampires and zombies. If a Sim doesn't age, I don't see a point in playing them. Best regards to all the 'aging off' Simmers out there 😆

That's all! Now I can stop rambling about it in my let's plays and just send you guys to this post if you have questions. Phew!

[estellan0vella]

My Very Own Speed Demon: K.S Kim Seungmin x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 15.5K

CW: Seungmin is bad at feelings, talks of a guy making reader uncomfortable with touching, Mechanic Student Seungmin, Hyunjin is a bit of an ass

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

The sun sinks lower, painting Miroh College in golden hues as shadows stretch lazily across the almost-empty parking lot outside the engineering building. The faint hum of machinery fades into the evening air as Seungmin steps out, rolling his shoulders with a slight groan. His black shirt hangs open, the silver chain on his chest catching the light with every movement. He wipes his slightly greasy hands on a rag stuffed into his back pocket, his boots scuffing against the pavement as he heads toward his car.

But something halts him. A few rows down, parked like a relic from a cooler era, is a 1977 Datsun 280Z. The hood’s popped open, and standing in front of it is you.

You’re bent slightly over the engine, your phone in one hand as the other gestures vaguely toward something under the hood. A quiet sigh escapes you as you tilt your head, clearly deep in a YouTube tutorial. The sunlight plays off the chain belt draped around your waist, your layered necklaces, and the flutter of your blue maxi skirt. A loose strand of hair brushes against your face as you mumble softly to yourself, brows furrowed in concentration.

Seungmin slows, lips twitching into a barely restrained smirk. “Fuck me,” he mutters under his breath. You’re cute. And absolutely lost. Before he realizes it, his curiosity gets the better of him, and he strides toward you.

When he’s close enough to see the way you’re squinting at your phone like it holds the secrets of the universe, he clears his throat. “You’re looking at the wrong engine model.”

You jolt like you’ve been shocked, nearly dropping your phone as you whirl around. Your wide eyes meet his, and your voice comes out breathy, startled. “Shit, you scared me!”

Seungmin raises his hands in mock surrender, the silver rings on his fingers glinting. His smirk deepens. “Sorry, sorry. I just couldn’t help noticing you looked like you were fucking struggling.”

Your cheeks flush, but you huff out a laugh despite yourself. “Yeah, well. I don’t know jack shit about cars, so I’m improvising.” You gesture toward the duct tape crisscrossing random parts of the engine. “This seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Seungmin leans closer, eyebrows raised as he inspects the tape job. “Jesus Christ. That’s a lot of duct tape.”

“Duct tape works,” you insist, crossing your arms in a half-defensive, half-sheepish posture.

He straightens up, deadpan. “How’s it working for you right now?”

Your lips twitch, trying not to laugh. “Okay, point taken.”

He snorts, rolling up his sleeves as he steps closer to the car. “Mind if I take a look? Because this thing isn’t running without some proper help. And no offence, but I don’t think YouTube’s got you covered.”

You hesitate for a moment, then sigh, stepping aside. “Go ahead. I’d appreciate it. Just, please don’t tell me it’s completely fucked.”

He leans over the engine, peering into the mess of parts. “Probably just your spark plug. Maybe the alternator if you’re really unlucky. But this? This is salvageable.”

You lean against the side of the car, watching him as he works. The way his fingers move over the parts, quick and sure, makes you feel a little less panicked. “The grease on your face tells me you’ve done this before, so I have faith in you"

Seungmin glances at you, smirking. “You should probably raise the bar for what counts as a ‘professional mechanic.’ But yeah, I’ve worked on cars since I was a kid and I'm a mechanics student. You’re in decent hands.”

“Well, considering I almost called Hyunjin to come save me, you’re already a fucking upgrade,” you admit with a small laugh.

He freezes for a split second, looking up at you. “You know Hyunjin?”

“Yeah,” you say, tucking your phone into your bag. “We’re supposed to be working on this art history project together. He’s going to fucking kill me for being late.”

That earns you a quiet laugh as Seungmin wipes his hands on his rag. “You’re meeting him at the Alpha Phi house?”

You blink at him in surprise. “Wait, you’re in Alpha Phi?”

He shrugs, leaning casually against the car. “Yeah. I'm Seungmin. I live there with him and the other idiots.”

A grin tugs at your lips. “I'm Y/N and Hyunjin's mentioned you. Mostly just complains about you being soulless.”

Seungmin snorts. “Sounds about right.” He glances back at the engine, then at you. “Hate to break it to you, but this car isn’t going anywhere until you replace the spark plug. You’re fucked for tonight.”

You groan, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Of course I am. That’s just perfect.”

“Hey,” he says, his tone softening slightly. “I’m heading home anyway. Why don’t you let me give you a ride? It’s either that or you haul your ass across campus alone.”

You hesitate, biting your lip as you weigh your options. “Are you sure? I don’t want to bother you or anything.”

Seungmin tilts his head, his voice calm but teasing. “What kind of dick would I be if I let a pretty girl with good taste in cars walk all the way to campus alone?”

“The same kind of dick as most of the guys on this campus?”

He bursts out laughing, shaking his head. “Well, they’re all assholes. I’m not.”

That gets a real laugh out of you, and you push off the car. “Alright, fine. Let me grab my bag.”

As you fall into step beside him, he shoves his hands into his pockets, glancing at you sideways. “So, art history, huh? What’s the project?”

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s on Tudor art. Specifically how Anne Boleyn’s image was erased after her execution. Hyunjin’s handling the movement and symbolism stuff.”

Seungmin groans, rolling his eyes. “That tracks. Hyunjin loves overanalyzing the fuck out of everything. Half the time, I think he’s just making shit up to sound smart.”

You laugh softly, your steps matching his as the two of you head into the twilight.

The drive to the Alpha Phi house is unexpectedly comfortable, considering you’re riding with a guy you’ve known for all of ten minutes. Seungmin’s Honda Civic smells faintly of coffee and motor oil, and the faint hum of the engine is almost soothing as it cuts through the winding streets of Miroh College. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, curious about this sharp-tongued yet oddly chivalrous stranger. He’s relaxed, one hand gripping the wheel while the other rests on the gear shift, the silver rings on his fingers glinting in the muted streetlights.

Seungmin breaks the silence first, his voice dry but not unkind. “So, why a 280Z?”

You blink, his question catching you off guard. “What do you mean?”

He flicks his gaze toward you briefly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth before his eyes return to the road. “It’s a cool car, sure. But let’s be honest—it’s a high-maintenance pain in the ass. And judging by your duct tape situation earlier, I wouldn’t peg you as the ‘engine whisperer’ type.”

You laugh softly, your fingers fiddling with the bracelets on your wrist. “Okay, fair enough. I’m not exactly a mechanic. But it was my dad’s car. He restored it when he was in college, and it’s been in the family ever since. It’s sentimental, you know?”

His smirk softens into something more genuine, and he nods. “Yeah. I get that.”

The car falls into a comfortable quiet again, broken only by the soft buzz of the engine and the occasional sound of tires crunching over the asphalt. The two of you fill the gaps in the silence with casual conversation. You complain about campus parking, and he counters with a running list of the best parking spots he’s commandeered over the years. 

He mentions a coffee shop near the library that’s cheap but “doesn’t taste like watered-down pretentious-cunt water,” and you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity. When you bring up how much you love late-night drives, his face lights up just slightly, and he shares how he used to drive aimlessly to clear his head when shit got overwhelming.

By the time he pulls up in front of the Alpha Phi house, its massive white columns glowing in the night like some over-the-top temple to chaos, you’re almost disappointed that the ride is over.

The house looms ahead, loud even from the outside. Someone’s yelling from the second-floor window, and you catch a glimpse of a guy leaning halfway out, waving his arms. “For fuck’s sake, Chan, shut up and come back in before you fall!” someone shouts from inside.

Seungmin just shakes his head, exhaling sharply as he pulls into the driveway and cuts the engine. “Every day, I wonder why the fuck I still live here,” he mutters under his breath, grabbing his keys.

You step out of the car and sling your bag over your shoulder, smoothing your skirt as he leads the way up the wide, creaky steps. The faint light from the porch lamp glints off the chain around his neck as he digs into his pocket for the keys.

“Hyunjin’s probably upstairs,” he says, unlocking the door with a practiced ease. “You’ll hear him before you see him.”

The door creaks open, and the chaos of the frat house spills out into the night. Inside, the space is somehow both clean and a complete disaster. The floors are clear of clutter, but the mismatched furniture in the living room is piled with discarded hoodies, random solo cups, and what looks suspiciously like a pair of boxers. A giant flat-screen TV blares some football highlight reel, and the faint smell of beer, sweat, and something burnt lingers in the air.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say quietly, taking a tentative step inside. The house feels like it’s pulsing with energy—voices shouting, footsteps pounding, someone laughing like a maniac in the kitchen.

Seungmin shrugs, brushing past you toward the noise. “No problem. Hyunjin’s room is upstairs, last door on the left. Just tell him I didn’t kill you or anything.”

You smile a little at that and nod, heading toward the stairs. The wooden steps creak under your Converse, and the sounds of the house get louder with each step. Behind one door, someone’s blasting music—something heavy and bass-driven. Behind another, you hear what sounds like a heated debate about the “existential meaning” of SpongeBob.

Finally, you reach the last door on the left. You knock softly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you wait.

“Come in!” Hyunjin’s voice booms out almost immediately, loud and theatrical as always.

You push the door open to find Hyunjin sprawled dramatically on his bed, his long limbs draped across the comforter like he’s auditioning for some avant-garde art piece. He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants that hang dangerously low on his hips, and his golden hair is messy in a way that looks too good to be accidental.

“Took you fucking long enough,” he says, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. “I was about to start working without you.” His eyes land on you, and then narrow slightly. “Wait—how the fuck did you even get here? Did you walk?”

“No,” you say, stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. “Your friend Seungmin gave me a ride. My car decided to fuck me over in the middle of the engineering lot.”

At the mention of Seungmin, Hyunjin groans, flopping back onto his bed like the mere thought of his frat brother is exhausting. “Of course he did. Bet he was an absolute cunt about it too, wasn’t he?”

You laugh softly, setting your bag down on the chair near his desk. “He was actually pretty nice. Surprisingly helpful, considering the duct tape situation.”

Hyunjin snorts, propping himself up on his elbows. “That asshole’s full of surprises. Don’t get used to it, though. He’s usually too busy being a sarcastic dick to help anyone.”

You smile faintly, settling into the chair and pulling out your notes. “He’s not that bad.”

“Trust me,” Hyunjin says, grabbing a notebook from the floor and flipping it open. “You haven’t known him long enough yet. Give it time.”

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, the chaos of the house fading into the background as you dive into your project.

Seungmin steps into the kitchen, popping the tab on a cold beer before leaning against the counter. The sound of the aluminium can hissing open is barely audible over the general buzz of conversation. He takes a long, quiet swig, hoping for just a moment of peace. But when he lowers the can, he immediately notices it. Six pairs of eyes fixed on him like vultures circling a fresh carcass.

Minho, Felix, Jeongin, Changbin, Jisung, and Chan sit scattered around the dining table, their expressions ranging from smirking amusement to outright glee.

“So,” Chan starts, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms like he’s conducting some kind of frat house tribunal. “She was cute.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, playing dumb. “Who?”

“You fucking heard me,” Chan replies, his smirk widening. “The girl. The one who came in your car.”

Minho snickers, lazily spinning a pen between his fingers. “Yeah, I saw her. Very your type. You into hippies now?”

Felix immediately elbows Minho in the ribs, his voice sharp with mock outrage. “Shut the fuck up, Minho. She wasn’t a hippie; she was hot.”

Seungmin groans, tipping his head back and muttering to the ceiling like it might spare him. “Here we fucking go.”

“You don’t just offer a girl a ride unless there’s something there,” Jeongin cuts in, his grin pure mischief as he leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head.

Seungmin shoots him a glare. “Her car was busted, and it was getting dark. What was I supposed to do, leave her there to get mugged or some shit?”

Jisung raises a hand like he’s in class, his grin borderline feral. “Counterpoint: You’re totally the guy who lets people fend for themselves because you’re too busy being a soulless bastard”

Changbin chuckles, lifting his can in a mock toast. “Be honest. You didn’t give her a ride because you’re a nice guy. You did it because she’s hot, right?”

Seungmin takes a slow, deliberate sip of his beer, his patience thinning with every word. When he sets it down, he exhales sharply. “From an objective standpoint, sure. She’s, objectively speaking, good-looking. I can admit that.”

“‘Objectively,’” Jisung parrots, squinting at him. “Why the fuck do you keep saying it like that?”

Jeongin smirks, leaning forward with his chin resting on his palm. “Because our boy here doesn’t know how to handle the fact that he just lived a fucking meet-cute.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes so hard he’s surprised they don’t pop out of his skull. “I don’t know her. I gave her a ride, that’s it. The end. Stop making this a fucking thing.”

“Yet,” Changbin drawls, grinning like he’s cracked the code. “You don’t know her yet. But you could.”

“This isn’t a fucking fanfiction,” Seungmin snaps, slamming his beer down on the counter hard enough to make the others laugh. “Alright? This is real life. She’s not some pixie dream girl who’s gonna change my fucking world or whatever.”

“Relax,” Jisung says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “We’re just saying it’s a possibility. You’ve got the whole oil-smeared, black-on-black, moody mechanic thing going for you. Girls eat that shit up.”

“Exactly,” Jeongin agrees, nodding sagely. “She’s probably already imagining you fixing her car shirtless in slow motion. Hell, I’m imagining it.”

“Fucking gross,” Seungmin deadpans, shaking his head as the table dissolves into laughter.

Chan raises an eyebrow, his voice mockingly serious. “You’re saying there’s no chance, none at all, that she might’ve been a little into you?”

Seungmin stares at him, his tone flat. “Zero. I’m the asshole who told her duct tape isn’t a real fix and then made her leave her car in the lot. Really romantic.”

“That’s your version,” Felix says with a grin. “Her version is probably all, ‘Oh my God, this sexy, grumpy mechanic saved me and then gave me a ride in his cool car.’”

“It’s a Honda Civic,” Seungmin mutters.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jisung replies. “You’re a walking Wattpad trope right now.”

Seungmin sighs heavily, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re all idiots. I helped her out because it was the right thing to do. That’s it.”

But as their teasing fades into background noise, Seungmin can’t help the way your face lingers in his mind. The way you’d smiled at him, soft and sweet, like you weren’t sure if you were supposed to but couldn’t help it anyway. The way you’d laughed when he’d called you out on your duct tape fix, not defensive, just genuine. And the way you’d looked so at ease in the passenger seat of his car, your hair catching the light from the streetlamps as you told him about your dad’s 280Z.

He shakes his head, pushing the thoughts aside. This is nothing. Just a pretty girl who needed a ride.

At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself as he finishes his beer and listens to his friends laugh.

The autumn sun bathes the campus in golden light, shadows stretching across the cobblestones as Seungmin strides toward the café. The crunch of fallen leaves under his boots echoes in the crisp air, his every step purposeful but unhurried. His black compression top clings to his frame, the fabric outlining his shoulders and arms. The silver chain against his chest catches the light as he shifts the strap of his bag, his fingers absently toying with the chunky rings that gleam on his hand.

He spots the café ahead, its tables littered with students hunched over laptops, sipping steaming cups of caffeine. His plan is simple. Grab coffee, kill some time, and enjoy the rare peace between classes. But as he rounds the corner, the sight of you freezes him mid-step.

You’re standing near the entrance, your sage green blouse slipping slightly off one shoulder, the delicate strap of your bra peeking out. Layers of necklaces glint against your skin, and your chain belt sways with every tiny shift of your weight. You’re smiling, polite but clearly uneasy, as a Sigma Chi douchebag looms too close. His navy sweatshirt emblazoned with the frat’s oversized logo makes Seungmin’s lip curl immediately.

“You’re such a fucking tease, you know that?” the guy sneers, his voice dripping with mockery.

Your polite smile falters, but you hold your ground, your tone gentle despite the venom aimed at you. “I’m sorry. I just don’t think—”

“Bullshit,” the guy cuts you off sharply, his voice rising. “You were sweet as fuck at the party, all flirty and cute. Now you’re ghosting me like I’m some fucking loser? What the fuck is that about?”

Seungmin’s jaw tightens. The guy’s posture, leaning in with fake bravado, makes his blood simmer. You’re too nice, too soft-spoken, trying to defuse the situation instead of telling this idiot to fuck all the way off. Not on Seungmin’s watch.

“Hey, Y/N!” Seungmin calls out as he strides toward you.

Your head snaps to him, relief flashing across your face. “Oh! Hi, Seungmin!” The brightness in your voice is unmistakable, and you take a step toward him, only for the Sigma Chi asshole to block your way.

The guy sneers, glancing between you and Seungmin. “Kim Seungmin? Really? You’re ditching me for this fucker?”

Seungmin’s boots crunch loudly against the gravel as he closes the distance. His sharp eyes narrow, and his voice drops, calm but laced with menace. “Got something you want to say, Sigma Chi?”

The guy stiffens but holds his ground, though the confidence in his sneer wavers. “Yeah. I’m saying she’s ditching a real man for some emo mechanic wannabe. That about cover it?”

Seungmin tilts his head slightly, his lips curving into the faintest smirk. “Funny. You sound like a lot of talk for someone who’s about five seconds away from having their teeth kicked in.”

The frat guy falters, glancing around to see if anyone is watching. Seungmin steps closer, his boots scraping loudly against the pavement, and lowers his voice. “Walk away, asshole. While you still have a choice.”

The guy scowls but backs off, muttering something about “fucking losers” under his breath as he storms off. Seungmin watches him go, the tension in his posture easing only once the guy is out of sight.

“Fucking dickhead,” he mutters before turning his attention back to you. “You alright?”

You nod, your fingers fidgeting with the bracelets on your wrist as you take a steadying breath. “Yeah. I didn’t know how to get him to leave without making it worse.”

“You don’t have to,” Seungmin says simply. “Guys like that don’t deserve your time. Next time, just tell him to fuck off.”

You laugh softly, though it’s tinged with a bit of nervousness. “Easier said than done.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he says, his voice lighter now, though the edge of protectiveness hasn’t left. He tilts his head toward the café door. “Come on. Let’s get coffee before some other Sigma Chi asshole shows up.”

You fall into step beside him, the warmth of the café greeting you as you step inside. The scent of fresh coffee and pastries wraps around you like a blanket, and the low hum of conversation fills the space.

“Grab a seat,” Seungmin says, gesturing toward the tables. “I’ll order.”

You choose a small table by the window, your nerves finally settling as you watch him at the counter. He exchanges a few quick words with the barista, his tone casual but confident, and a few minutes later, he’s making his way back to you with two drinks in hand.

He sets a cup in front of you before sliding into the seat across from you. “Chai latte,” he says. “Figured that’s more your speed than straight black coffee.”

You blink, pleasantly surprised. “How’d you know I like chai?”

He shrugs, smirking faintly as he takes a sip of his own drink. “Lucky guess. You just seem like the type.”

You chuckle, wrapping your hands around the warm cup. “Well, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Least I could do,” he says, leaning back in his chair, his silver rings tapping lightly against the ceramic mug. “That guy was a fucking disaster.”

You trace your finger around the rim of your cup, your voice soft. “He wasn’t always like that. We just didn’t click, and I thought he’d understand, but I guess not.”

Seungmin snorts, setting his drink down with a small thunk. “Yeah, because entitled shitheads like him don’t take rejection well. They think they’re God’s gift to the world and lose their shit the second someone disagrees.”

You smile faintly, though there’s a sadness in your eyes. “I just try to see the good in people. Maybe that’s stupid.”

He watches you for a moment, his eyes softening. “It’s not stupid. It’s just risky. Too many people out there are assholes, and being nice doesn’t mean they’ll stop being assholes.”

You nod, taking a sip of your latte and you glance up at him with a small smile. “Well, I’m lucky you were there.”

“Damn right, you were,” he says with a smirk. “Seriously, though. If some other dick tries that shit, call me. I’ll handle it.”

You raise an eyebrow, teasing. “What, glare them into submission?”

“Exactly,” he deadpans, taking another sip of his drink. “It’s a very refined technique.”

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, and the tension from earlier melts away completely. Seungmin surprises you with his dry humour and blunt honesty, and before you know it, the conversation flows easily, dipping into random topics and shared complaints about campus life.

When you finally leave the café, the sun has dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the quad. Seungmin walks beside you, his hands shoved into his pockets as the two of you approach the main campus intersection.

“You heading to class?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Art history in ten.”

He nods. “Workshop for me. Another day of fixing shit that some moron broke.”

You laugh softly. “Sounds riveting.”

“Oh, it’s a fucking thrill,” he replies with a faint grin.

At the intersection, you pause, turning to face him. “Thanks again, Seungmin. For everything.”

He nods, his expression softening. “Anytime. Just don’t let assholes like that ruin your day, alright?”

You smile warmly, your voice quiet but sincere. “I’ll try.”

With a small wave, you head off toward your class, and Seungmin watches you go, the sound of your footsteps fading into the autumn breeze.

He shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. You’re sweet, soft-spoken, and far too good for this world. And somehow, you’re starting to get under his skin.

The Alpha Phi house looms ahead as you walk up the driveway, your oversized portfolio folder tucked under one arm. The autumn breeze toys with the hem of your blue maxi dress, making it swirl around your ankles as you climb the steps to the front door. Stray strands of hair escape from the clip holding them back, brushing against your face as you adjust the strap of your bag and shift the weight of the folder. Your mind is focused on Tudor art, Anne Boleyn, and the mountain of work you need to finish before tomorrow—definitely not on how chaotic the frat house is probably about to be.

You knock lightly on the door and step back, waiting. The sound of heavy footsteps grows louder before the lock clicks, and the door swings open to reveal Seungmin, barefoot, in grey sweatpants slung low on his hips and a white t-shirt clinging to his damp frame. A towel hangs loosely around his neck, his dark hair tousled and still wet from a shower. The sight is so effortlessly casual yet striking that it catches you off guard, and for a second, you forget why you’re even here.

His sharp gaze flicks to the massive portfolio folder you’re holding. “Jesus Christ,” he deadpans, leaning against the doorframe. “That thing’s almost as big as you.”

You huff a soft laugh, shifting the folder to rest it against your hip. “Well, Tudor art’s got a lot of depth. It’s heavy, literally and metaphorically.”

Seungmin’s lips twitch into a faint smirk. “Right. Deep. Heavy. Bet it’s still more entertaining than the shit Hyunjin tries to call art.”

You grin, your voice light as you step past him into the house. “Oh, it’s profound. Intricate. Emotionally moving. You’d love it.”

The house, predictably, is chaotic but lively. There’s the faint sound of a video game coming from one of the rooms down the hall, the kitchen smells faintly of burned something, and a pair of sneakers is inexplicably hanging from the banister. You glance around, searching for any sign of Hyunjin.

Seungmin notices your scanning gaze and rubs the back of his neck. “About that,” he says, his voice edged with mild irritation. “Hyunjin left, like, twenty minutes ago. Went to meet up with that Marissa girl.”

Your shoulders slump slightly as you let out a quiet sigh. “Of course he did. Perfect timing as always.”

Seungmin shrugs, dropping the towel onto the back of the couch and crossing his arms. “If it helps, I can try to help you out. And by help, I mean I’ll sit here, look up shit on my laptop, and let you do all the actual work.”

Your grin softens into something more genuine. “That would actually be amazing. Thanks, Seungmin.”

He jerks his head toward the stairs. “Come on. It’s quieter in my room.”

You follow him up, navigating past a stray hockey stick and what looks like a torn-out couch cushion, until you reach his room. It’s surprisingly neat—especially for a frat house—with a neatly made bed in one corner, a desk covered in mechanical tools and textbooks, and walls lined with posters. Your gaze lands immediately on one—a half-naked woman straddling a motorcycle, her pouty lips and sultry gaze seeming comically out of place compared to the otherwise functional vibe of the room.

“Wow,” you say, unable to suppress a small laugh. “A half-naked girl on a motorcycle? Real classy.”

Seungmin glances at the poster, his smirk returning. “What can I say? It’s vintage. Been with me since I was thirteen. Practically a family heirloom at this point.”

You hum thoughtfully, setting your portfolio down on the bed. “I had Bruno Mars on my wall. Right next to Edward Cullen.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Bruno Mars and Edward Cullen? What a lineup.”

You shrug, your lips quirking. “I was multifaceted.”

“Clearly,” he says, smirking as he leans back on his hands. “But Edward Cullen, though?”

You nod, unzipping your portfolio. “Oh, obviously. A staple for any teenage girl. But for the record, I was team Alice.”

That makes him pause, his brow furrowing slightly. “Team Alice? Not team Jacob or Edward?”

“Too mainstream,” you say with a grin. “Alice deserved better. She’s underrated.”

Seungmin lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I can’t even argue with that.”

You settle cross-legged on the bed, flipping through the pages of your portfolio and spreading your sketches and notes across the comforter. Seungmin leans forward slightly, picking up one of your reference images.

“So,” he says, studying the sketch of a Tudor-era portrait. “What’s the big project?”

“It’s about how Anne Boleyn’s likeness was erased after her execution,” you explain, pointing to a specific note scribbled in the margin. “They painted over her portraits, rewrote history through art. It’s fucked up, but it’s also fascinating. Some of her portraits survived, though. It’s like this tiny act of defiance against a system that tried to erase her completely.”

Seungmin traces his thumb along the edge of the image, his dark eyes thoughtful. “That’s some heavy shit. People really went that far to bury her?”

“Yep,” you reply, smoothing out another page of notes. “Art’s more powerful than people realize. It can tell the truth—or rewrite it. That’s what makes this so interesting. It’s like solving a mystery but through brushstrokes and canvas.”

He watches you for a moment, his gaze steady and unreadable. The way your eyes light up, your voice gaining a quiet confidence as you explain something you’re clearly passionate about—it’s distracting in a way he didn’t expect. And maybe doesn’t entirely hate.

“Alright,” he says finally, snapping out of it. “Tudor art, huh? I think I’ve got some old books on restoration techniques that might help.”

You blink, surprised. “You do?”

He gets up, heading to his desk and rummaging through a small shelf. “Yeah. Took an elective on historical restoration last year. Figured I’d keep the books in case I needed them. Didn’t think they’d actually be useful, though.”

You watch as he pulls out a few worn textbooks, his movements efficient but with an almost surprising gentleness. He tosses them onto the bed beside you.

“Here,” he says. “See if there’s anything in there you can use.”

You pick up one of the books, flipping through the pages with growing excitement. “Seungmin, this is perfect. Thank you.”

He sits back down, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “No problem. Just don’t let Hyunjin take all the credit for this shit.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “He’s not that bad.”

Seungmin snorts, his smirk turning sharp. “Sure he’s not.”

Seungmin leans back against the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him, one foot tapping lazily against the edge of the bed. He watches you sketch in your portfolio, the soft scratch of your pencil filling the otherwise quiet room. The occasional rustle of paper or your quiet hum of concentration is the only sound beyond the faint chaos filtering in from the house downstairs. 

For a moment, he just observes. The way your brow furrows slightly as you work, how the delicate chain around your neck glints every time you shift positions.

Finally, he breaks the silence, his tone dry. “So, how many times has Hyunjin ditched you for shit like this?”

You pause mid-sketch, glancing up at him with a small shrug. “It’s not that bad,” you say. “He lets me use his printer when I need it. Mine broke a while ago, and I haven’t replaced it yet.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, his smirk sharp as a blade. “Do you own anything that actually works, or is your whole life just duct tape and crossed fingers?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “A few things work. My blender’s still going strong.”

“Great,” he deadpans, gesturing at the mess of notes and sketches spread across the bed. “And how much of this ‘collaborative’ project is actually Hyunjin’s work?”

You hesitate before flipping to a single page in your portfolio, its sparse, half-assed notes glaringly out of place among your meticulously detailed work. You push it toward him, your lips twitching in a sheepish smile.

Seungmin peers at it, his expression blank for a beat before he lets out a low whistle. “Holy shit,” he mutters, leaning back. “He’s really pulling his weight, huh?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “He’s busy, I guess.”

“Yeah, busy being a useless dick,” Seungmin says bluntly. “Honestly, you should erase his name from the project and turn it in as your own. Fuck him.”

Your eyes widen, and you immediately shake your head, scandalized. “I can’t do that! He could fail!”

“And?” Seungmin’s gaze sharpens, his voice edged with disbelief. “That’s his problem. You’re the one busting your ass here. What’s he even doing, fucking Marissa while you save his degree?”

You groan softly, dropping your pencil and fidgeting with the hem of your dress. “It’s not that simple. I don’t want to screw him over.”

Seungmin sighs, his tone exasperated but not unkind. “Then you need to tell him to step the fuck up. You’re not his babysitter.”

You grimace, avoiding his eyes as you pick at a loose thread on your skirt. “Confrontation makes me feel like I’m going to physically die.”

He snorts, his lips curving into a smirk as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yeah, you seem like the type who’d eat around a deathly allergen just to avoid ‘causing trouble.’”

Your silence is damning. You don’t even look up.

“Oh my fucking god,” Seungmin says, his voice laced with incredulity. “You’ve actually done that, haven’t you?”

You groan softly, covering your face with your hands. “I had my EpiPen! I was being polite!”

He stares at you for a long moment before letting out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “You risked death to be fucking polite? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Peeking at him through your fingers, your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “To be fair, the coconut added to the flavour. I wasn’t even mad when my throat started closing up.”

Seungmin’s jaw drops, and he shakes his head, looking genuinely appalled. “What the actual fuck? You’re insane. Like, genuinely fucking insane. Who the hell does that?”

You shrug, biting your lip to hide a laugh. “It was a really good dessert.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me.” When he looks back at you, there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes, though his voice is firm. “You’re unbelievable. Sweet, sure. But fucking unbelievable.”

“I just don’t like making people feel bad,” you say softly, fidgeting with your pencil again. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” he counters, his voice dropping into something almost serious. “You shouldn’t have to risk your life or your grade just to keep everyone else happy. That’s not how it works.”

You glance at him, surprised by the sudden edge in his tone. The usual sarcasm in his voice is gone, replaced by something quieter, heavier. It’s unexpected, but it doesn’t feel unwelcome.

“Maybe you’re right,” you murmur, your gaze flicking back to the portfolio spread across the bed. “But it’s hard. I don’t want to cause trouble.”

Seungmin leans back against the headboard, watching you for a long moment. His expression softens just slightly. “Standing up for yourself isn’t causing trouble,” he says, his voice quieter now. “It’s just making sure people don’t walk all over you. And trust me, people will walk all over you if you let them.”

You nod slowly, taking in his words as you absently trace the edge of your sketchbook. For a moment, the room is quiet again, save for the faint noise of the frat house below.

Seungmin’s voice cuts through the silence, light and teasing once more. “So, about the coconut. Did someone finally figure out you were dying, or did you just sit there and wait for your ‘polite death’?”

You laugh softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “One of my friends noticed and freaked out. She basically tackled me and stabbed the EpiPen into my leg while I was trying to tell her it was fine.”

Seungmin lets out another laugh, running a hand through his damp hair. “Jesus fucking Christ. You’re lucky you’ve got people watching out for you, because clearly, you won’t do it yourself.”

You stick your tongue out at him, earning a sharp smirk in return. “Maybe I’ll start being more assertive. After this project is done.”

“Good,” he says, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms. “Because if you let Hyunjin keep pulling this shit, I’m gonna start calling you Saint Y/N. Patron fucking saint of doormats.”

You roll your eyes, laughing despite yourself. “Fine, fine. I’ll try to stand up for myself. No promises, though.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, his smirk laced with challenge. “I’ll believe it when I fucking see it.”

And though he’s teasing, there’s something in his voice that feels almost encouraging, like he might actually believe you can do it.

The house hums with faint background noise as Seungmin sits cross-legged on his bed, the fan lazily pushing air through the room. Your portfolio rests open in front of him, the pages fanned out carefully on the comforter. His sharp eyes flick over your sketches, pausing on the intricate lines and shading of Anne Boleyn’s face.

One piece in particular, a half-finished sketch of Anne wearing her iconic "B" necklace, makes him stop. Her expression is soft but haunted, the shadows under her eyes suggesting both weariness and resilience. It’s not just good; it’s fucking captivating.

“Damn,” he mutters under his breath, running a thumb along the edge of the page. “She's talented as fuck.”

He leans back, letting his head rest against the wall as his thoughts drift. He’s not sure what it is about you that keeps grabbing his attention. Maybe it’s the way your sweetness feels genuine, like it hasn’t been diluted by the world yet. Or maybe it’s the quiet determination you carry, even when people like Hyunjin leave you holding the bag.

The thought of Hyunjin makes his jaw tighten. That asshole.

By the time Hyunjin walks through the door later that night, the house is alive again. Bowls of Minho’s kimchi jjigae are being passed around the living room, the spicy, rich aroma filling the air. Seungmin sits on the floor, his back against the couch, spooning stew into his mouth like it’s his last meal.

The front door opens with a bang, and Hyunjin strides in, looking far too pleased with himself. His hair is slightly mussed, and he hums under his breath as he kicks off his sneakers. Before he can even greet anyone, a slipper flies through the air, smacking him square in the face.

“What the fuck?!” he yells, stumbling back and clutching his nose. His wide, offended eyes dart to Seungmin, who’s glaring at him.

“You,” Seungmin says, setting his bowl down on the coffee table with deliberate care, “are fucking lucky Y/N is too nice for her own damn good.”

The chatter in the room screeches to a halt. Chan, perched on an armchair, raises an eyebrow and gestures vaguely with his spoon. “Alright, what the hell is happening?”

Seungmin doesn’t even glance away from Hyunjin as he explains. “Our dear friend here has left Y/N to carry their entire art history project on her back. She’s done everything, while he’s done jack fucking shit.”

Minho, who’s leaning casually against the wall with a beer in hand, lets out a low whistle. “Classic Hyunjin move. Should’ve seen it coming.”

Hyunjin groans, rubbing the spot on his cheek where the slipper hit him. “She said she didn’t mind! I asked her if she needed help, and she told me it was fine!”

“Of course she did,” Seungmin snaps, his glare intensifying. “Because she doesn’t like confrontation, you absolute dickhead. And you fucking know that.”

“That’s rough, man,” Felix says from the couch, slurping his stew loudly. “Kinda makes you a cunt, doesn’t it?”

Hyunjin groans again, throwing his hands up. “Okay, okay, I get it. I fucked up. What do you want me to do?!”

Seungmin doesn’t even hesitate. “Pay for her car repairs.”

The room goes completely still. Then, one by one, everyone nods in agreement.

“Yeah,” Chan says, pointing his spoon at Hyunjin like a judge passing down a sentence. “That’s fair.”

“Her car’s a fucking 280Z,” Minho adds, taking a swig of his beer. “Repairs aren’t cheap. Pay up, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin looks around the room in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “You guys are ganging up on me! What the fuck!”

“No, what the fuck is you,” Seungmin snaps, crossing his arms over his chest. “You owe her. If it weren’t for her, you’d fail that class. Pay for the fucking car.”

Hyunjin sighs heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. “Fine. Fucking fine. I’ll pay for her car repairs. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Seungmin says flatly, picking up his bowl of stew again. “And if you flake on this, I’ll throw something heavier than a slipper next time.”

“Like what?” Hyunjin challenges weakly.

“Like the fucking coffee table,” Seungmin replies without missing a beat.

The room bursts into laughter, but Hyunjin mutters under his breath as he grabs a bowl of jjigae for himself. Changbin, seated on the floor with his legs stretched out, nudges Seungmin with his foot. “You really stepped up for her, huh? Study buddy and all.”

Hyunjin squints at Seungmin, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “Wait. You? Helping with art? What’s next, you learning to waterpaint?”

Seungmin glares at him, but the heat doesn’t quite reach his voice. “I know how to read, dumbass. It’s not that hard to help someone find sources.”

Jeongin smirks from his spot by the coffee table, resting his chin in his hand. “Nah, it’s not just that. Seungmin’s got a soft spot for her. We all see it.”

Felix leans forward, his grin mischievous. “Yeah, the mean mechanic act breaks real quick when she walks in with her flowy skirts and shy little smile. You’ve got a thing for her, don’t you?”

Seungmin flips him off with zero hesitation, his eyes narrowing. “Eat shit, Felix.”

“I’m just saying,” Felix continues, unbothered. “You’re kinda protective for someone who’s ‘just helping.’”

“I don’t have a fucking thing for anyone,” Seungmin retorts, shoving a spoonful of stew into his mouth. “She needed help, so I helped. End of fucking story.”

“Right,” Jisung says, drawing out the word with an obnoxiously knowing smirk. “Totally believable.”

Seungmin groans, standing up and grabbing his empty bowl. “You’re all fucking insufferable.”

As he stalks out of the room, the sound of their laughter echoes behind him. But as much as he tries to ignore their teasing, the image of you sketching quietly on his bed lingers in his mind.

Maybe they’re not entirely wrong. But he’s not about to admit that. Not yet.

The late afternoon sunlight slants through the wide windows of the Alpha Phi living room, turning the room golden and catching motes of dust as they swirl lazily in the air. The mismatched furniture gives the space a slightly chaotic charm. Minho is sprawled on the couch like a cat, his cherry-red hair catching the sunlight as he lazily flips through a magazine about exotic pets. A faint smirk plays on his lips, suggesting he’s less interested in the articles and more in the idea of tormenting his housemates with his next grand idea.

Chan is perched on the armrest of the couch, his easy grin in place as he scrolls on his phone. His head bobs faintly to the playlist humming from a speaker tucked in the corner.

The peace doesn’t last.

Seungmin walks in, his boots heavy against the floor, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his black cargos. His shoulders are tense, his jaw locked tight, and his sharp eyes dart around the room like he’s searching for something or someone to aim his frustration at.

Minho looks up first, instantly zeroing in on Seungmin’s sour expression. He doesn’t bother hiding his amusement. “Well, well, if it isn’t Mr. Sunshine himself,” he drawls, tossing the magazine onto the cluttered coffee table. “What’s got your panties in a twist today?”

“Fuck off,” Seungmin snaps, sinking into the armchair across from them with all the grace of a dropped anvil. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and drags a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath.

Chan raises an eyebrow, setting his phone aside. “Uh-oh. You look like you’ve been thinking too hard. What’s going on?”

Minho leans forward, his smirk sharpening like a predator scenting blood. “Yeah, Seungmin. Lay it on us. Who pissed you off now? Or is this your natural state?”

Seungmin glares, his gaze flicking between them like he’s debating whether or not to just leave. But the weight in his chest refuses to budge, and he knows he’s going to explode if he doesn’t say something.

Finally, he exhales sharply, his voice low and tight. “It’s about Y/N.”

Minho and Chan exchange a quick glance, eyebrows shooting up in unison. Minho’s grin stretches wider, and Chan’s expression softens with interest.

“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Minho says, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Go on, lover boy. We’re listening.”

Seungmin scowls, but the heat in his glare feels more defensive than angry. “I don’t know,” he mutters, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I’ve just been thinking about her. A lot. And it’s fucking annoying.”

“Thinking about her how?” Minho presses, his tone a mix of curiosity and outright glee.

“Fucking... I don’t know! Like that!” Seungmin snaps, gesturing vaguely with one hand. “That’s why I’m asking you two assholes. What the fuck is going on with me?”

Minho’s grin turns predatory. “Oh, you absolute dumbass. You like her.”

Seungmin freezes, his sharp gaze snapping to Minho. “Do I?”

“Yes,” Chan says immediately, clapping his hands together like he’s just cracked the case of the century. “It’s so fucking obvious. How do you not know this?”

Minho cackles, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand. “Are you emotionally stunted, or just slow on the uptake?”

“Probably both,” Seungmin mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “God, this is fucking stupid.”

Chan’s grin turns fond, his voice teasing but not unkind. “Oh, Seungminnie. You’re so cute when you’re like this.”

Seungmin flips him off without hesitation. “Don’t fucking start.”

Minho tilts his head, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You’re really out here having a whole-ass existential crisis because you caught feelings. It’s almost... endearing.”

“Fuck you, Minho,” Seungmin bites out, though his tone lacks any real venom. “I didn’t ask to be analyzed. I just want to know what the fuck I’m supposed to do about it.”

Minho sits up, rubbing his chin like he’s deep in thought. “Well, for starters, you could try not being such a cold, emotionally constipated robot. That might help.”

Seungmin glares, leaning back in the chair. “So helpful. Thanks.”

Chan chuckles, reaching over to pat Seungmin’s shoulder. “He’s right, though. If you like her, you’ve gotta stop acting like a brooding asshole and actually talk to her. You’re good with words when you want to be.”

“Yeah, but not like that,” Seungmin mutters, crossing his arms. “What the fuck do I even say? ‘Hey, I’ve been thinking about you a lot and it’s annoying as fuck, so maybe we should go out?’”

Minho bursts out laughing, nearly falling off the couch. “That’s... wow. No. Don’t say that.”

Chan shakes his head, biting back his own laughter. “Just be honest, man. You don’t have to make it weird. She’s the type who’d appreciate the truth.”

Seungmin sighs, tipping his head back against the chair. “What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I just fuck it all up?”

Minho snorts. “Then at least you’ll know instead of sitting here stewing like a fucking idiot. Either way, it’s a win for me. Free entertainment.”

“Go to hell, Minho,” Seungmin mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Chan chuckles, his voice softer now. “You’ll figure it out, Seungmin. Just don’t overthink it. You’re not as bad at this stuff as you think.”

Minho hops off the couch with a shit-eating grin. “And if you fuck it up? Well, we’ll all be here to laugh about it.”

Seungmin sighs heavily, standing and heading for the kitchen. “You’re all fucking insufferable.”

In the kitchen, he grabs a beer from the fridge and twists the cap off, taking a long swig before leaning against the counter. Minho and Chan follow him, their shit-eating grins still firmly in place.

“So,” Minho begins, hopping onto the counter and dangling his legs like a kid on a swing. “What’s the grand plan, Romeo?”

“There is no fucking plan,” Seungmin mutters. “I’ll keep helping her with her project and hope I don’t make things weird.”

Chan raises an eyebrow. “That’s not a plan. That’s avoidance.”

“Thanks for the analysis, Freud,” Seungmin deadpans, taking another swig of his beer.

Minho nudges him with his foot. “You like her. Just admit it to yourself and do something about it. Don’t be a coward.”

Seungmin sighs again, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I’m not a coward. I just don’t want to fuck up something good, alright?”

Chan claps him on the back. “Then don’t. Keep it simple. Honest. She’ll appreciate that more than anything.”

Minho grins smugly. “And if she doesn’t? Well, at least we’ll have fun watching you crash and burn.”

Seungmin glares at him, but the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth betrays him. “Go fuck yourself, Minho.”

Minho smirks. “Already planned for later.”

Seungmin groans, pushing off the counter and heading for the stairs. “You’re fucking unbearable.”

Minho’s laughter and Chan’s chuckling follow him as he heads back to his room, but even with their teasing, Seungmin feels a little lighter. Maybe, just maybe, he can figure this out.

The low whir of Seungmin’s fan hums through the room as you sit cross-legged on his bed, your laptop balanced precariously on your thighs. Stacks of old books are scattered around you, a testament to the marathon research session you’ve been enduring. The late afternoon sun filters through the blinds, casting soft golden streaks across the room. You’re wearing a light summer dress, its fabric brushing against your skin as you adjust your position, the hem barely brushing mid-thigh. Strands of your hair have slipped out of the clip holding it back, framing your face as you squint at your screen.

At his desk, Seungmin leans back in his chair, his black sweatpants and tight tank top clinging to his frame in the warm room. One hand flips through a heavy book on Tudor history, the other absently twirling a pen. His brow furrows in concentration, but every so often, his gaze flicks to you. Curious, amused, unreadable.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “So,” he starts, his voice slicing through the hum of the fan, “have you talked to Hyunjin yet?”

Your fingers pause mid-typing, and you glance up, blinking. “Uh, no. I don’t think I need to. It’s not really a big deal.”

Seungmin’s pen drops to the desk with a loud clink, and he swivels to face you, his expression flat but his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, sure. Not a big deal. He slacks off, you do all the work, and he gets to keep floating through life like a fucking golden retriever on vacation. Totally fine.”

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping despite yourself. “He didn’t mean to slack off. He’s just... busy.”

“With what? Pouting for his Instagram stories?” Seungmin leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. His sharp eyes glint with mockery. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t let him off the hook so easily. I could shave one of his eyebrows off.”

You laugh again, waving him off. “Seungmin, no. It’s fine, really. I’ll just finish the project, and we’ll move on.”

“Yeah, no.” He stands abruptly, his chair squeaking against the floor. “That’s not happening. Get up.”

You blink at him, confused. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to teach you the art of confrontation,” he says, walking over to you with an air of finality. He holds out a hand, clearly expecting you to take it. “And before you say anything, no, you don’t get a choice.”

You lean back, groaning. “Oh no. I’m bad at that. Absolutely not.”

“Exactly why we’re doing this.” He grabs your hand, his grip firm but not forceful, and pulls you to your feet. 

The movement sends your laptop sliding precariously to the side of the bed, and you hastily catch it before steadying yourself. Your dress brushes against his sweatpants, and for a moment, his hands linger on yours, warm and steady.

“I already hate this,” you mutter, pouting.

“That’s the spirit,” he quips, smirking. He takes a step back, crossing his arms as he looks you up and down. “Alright. Repeat after me. Hyunjin, you’re a selfish asshole, and your hair isn’t even that great.”

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head frantically. “I can’t say that! What if he hears me?”

“Good,” Seungmin says, his smirk widening. “Maybe he’ll learn something.”

You laugh nervously, covering your face with your hands. “This feels so wrong.”

Seungmin sighs dramatically, stepping closer and gently tugging your hands down. “I was prepared for this,” he says, his voice carrying a note of triumph. He walks to his closet, rummaging around until he pulls out a dartboard with a photo of Hyunjin’s grinning face pinned dead centre.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, your jaw dropping as you stare at it.

“It’s modular,” Seungmin says nonchalantly, holding it up. “I’ve got all the guys’ faces in here. They piss me off in cycles.”

“This is insane,” you say, barely stifling your laughter as he hangs the dartboard on his door.

“It’s cathartic,” he corrects, tossing a dart into your hand. “Go on. Aim for the pretty boy’s stupid smile.”

You hesitate, holding the dart awkwardly. “I’ve never thrown a dart in my life.”

“Not fucking rocket science,” he says, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “Just throw it. Let your rage guide you.”

Rolling your eyes but laughing, you square your shoulders and toss the dart. It bounces off the board and clatters to the floor with an anticlimactic thunk. Your cheeks heat up as you bury your face in your hands.

“Jesus Christ,” Seungmin mutters, pushing off the wall and walking over to you. “Alright, rookie. Relax. You’re trying too hard.”

He steps behind you, his hands gently resting on your arms and you feel your breath catch slightly as he leans in, his voice low and soft.

“Breathe,” he murmurs, his thumbs brushing your forearms lightly. “Loosen up. You’re not throwing a grenade.”

You nod, trying to ignore how close he is, or the way his cologne lingers, sharp and clean. “Okay. Relax. Got it.”

“Good,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Now, aim. And don’t overthink it this time. Just let it go.”

With his guidance, you throw the dart again. It sticks in the board, just outside Hyunjin’s cheek. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you turn to look at Seungmin with a triumphant grin.

“See?” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Not so bad.”

You laugh, the tension from earlier dissolving. “Okay, that was kind of fun.”

“Kind of?” He raises an eyebrow, feigning offence. “It’s the best fucking stress relief there is. Try again.”

Grinning, you grab another dart and throw it. It lands even closer to the centre, and you let out a delighted cheer.

“Nice,” Seungmin says, nodding approvingly. “You’re a natural. Hyunjin should be scared.”

As you line up another shot, Seungmin leans back against the wall, arms crossed. There’s a softness in his expression now, a flicker of something he doesn’t let show often. Watching you laugh and let loose feels oddly satisfying.

“Alright,” you say, aiming carefully. “What do I get if I hit his stupid grin?”

“A medal for bravery,” Seungmin deadpans, but his smirk betrays his amusement.

You throw the dart, and it lands just shy of the photo’s centre. Laughing, you turn to him with a mock pout. “I want a rematch.”

“You’re not ready for that kind of pressure,” he says, his tone teasing but warm.

And for the first time all day, the weight of your project and the tension with Hyunjin feel far away. In this room, with Seungmin, all that exists is the laughter, the easy banter, and the flicker of something unspoken in the air between you.

The sun dips low, casting a warm, golden hue over the Alpha Phi house as you neatly pack up your things in Seungmin’s room. The quiet scratch of your pen against paper, the occasional tap of your laptop’s keyboard, and the hum of his fan have created a soothing rhythm all afternoon. Now, as you finish jotting down the last of your citations, you stack your books and papers into an organized pile.

Seungmin leans back in his chair, his legs stretched out and his dark eyes lazily tracking your movements. A pen twirls effortlessly between his fingers, his expression calm but sharp—like he’s quietly taking in more than he lets on.

“Leaving already?” he asks, his tone casual but carrying a note of something you can’t quite place.

You glance up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, I’ve got to get ready. I have a date tonight.”

The words hit like a brick, and Seungmin freezes for half a second before resuming the pen twirl, though his fingers grip it a little too tightly. His face remains neutral, but his jaw ticks slightly.

“A date?” he says, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

You nod, slipping your laptop into your bag. “Yeah, Minho introduced me to a guy in his class. Animal behaviour or something? He seems nice.”

His forced smile cracks for a moment, but he patches it quickly. “Nice,” he echoes, leaning forward in his chair. “That’s… great.”

The silence lingers, awkward and heavy. You tilt your head at him, your soft gaze curious. “Are you okay?”

“Me? Fine,” he says quickly, too quickly, sitting up straighter. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You frown slightly, unconvinced, but you let it go, offering him a gentle smile. “Thanks for all your help today, Seungmin. I really appreciate it.”

He nods stiffly, watching you head for the door. His chest feels tight, like someone’s wrapped a steel band around it. When the door clicks shut behind you, he lets out a low, frustrated sigh and tosses the pen onto his desk.

A beat passes before he’s on his feet, striding purposefully down the hall toward Minho’s room.

Minho’s door is ajar, soft music filtering out as Seungmin pushes it open without knocking. Minho is sprawled on his bed, headphones around his neck, scrolling through his phone with his usual smug expression. Minho barely has time to look up before Seungmin grabs a pillow from the bed and swings it at him with alarming force.

“What the fuck?!” Minho yells, his phone flying from his hand as he scrambles to defend himself.

“You!” Seungmin growls, punctuating each word with a swing of the pillow. “Fucking introduced her. To. A. Guy?!”

Minho bursts into laughter, raising his arms to shield himself. “It’s incentive, Seungminnie!” he cackles, gasping between laughs. “You needed a push!”

“I don’t need a fucking push!” Seungmin snaps, hitting him even harder.

Minho tries to sit up, still laughing despite the onslaught. “You’re so fucking obvious- Ow! Stop, you lunatic!”

“Good!” Seungmin barks, his voice sharp as he lands another hit. “Maybe next time you’ll keep your matchmaking bullshit to yourself!”

The commotion attracts Chan, who appears in the doorway with his arms crossed and an amused look on his face. “What’s going on here?”

“I’m smothering Minho,” Seungmin says flatly, not even looking up as he presses the pillow down over Minho’s face.

Chan nods approvingly, stepping into the room. “Good. Carry on. You’re doing the lord’s work.”

Seungmin lets out a humourless laugh, pressing the pillow down harder as Minho’s muffled protests grow louder. “I know, right? Someone’s gotta do it.”

“While you’re at it,” Chan says casually, leaning against the doorframe, “make sure he can’t reproduce. The last thing we need is a mini Minho terrorizing the campus.”

Minho’s muffled yell rises to a panicked pitch as Seungmin shifts his weight, digging a knee into Minho’s crotch. The resulting strangled groan is enough to make Chan burst into laughter. “Jesus Christ, Seungmin,” Chan says, shaking his head. “You’re fucking ruthless.”

“Yeah, well,” Seungmin mutters, his tone clipped. “He fucking deserves it.”

Minho finally manages to yank the pillow away, his face red and his hair a mess as he glares up at Seungmin. “You’re a psycho!”

“And you’re a fucking meddler,” Seungmin snaps, tossing the pillow back onto the bed. “What the hell were you thinking, setting her up with some random guy?”

Minho sits up, rubbing his face. “I was helping! You’re clearly into her but too chickenshit to do anything about it!”

“I didn’t fucking ask for your help!” Seungmin snaps, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

Chan raises a hand, stepping between them with a smirk. “Alright, let’s all take a deep breath. Minho’s an idiot, but he’s not wrong. You’re jealous, Seungmin. Just admit it.”

Seungmin glares at him, his jaw clenching. “So what if I am? What am I supposed to do about it, huh? March up to her and say, ‘Hey, I think about you way too much, and it’s driving me fucking insane?’”

“Honestly? Yeah,” Chan says, shrugging. “She’s sweet. She won’t bite your head off.”

Minho smirks, leaning back against the headboard. “And if she says no, at least you’ll have closure. Better than sitting here brooding like some tragic fucking Byronic hero.”

“Fuck off,” Seungmin mutters, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

Chan claps him on the shoulder. “You’ve got this, man. Just be honest. It’s not as scary as you’re making it out to be.”

Seungmin huffs, glancing between them. He hates that they’re right. The thought of you with someone else already twists his stomach into knots, and the idea of doing nothing feels even worse.

Without another word, he storms out of the room, leaving Chan and Minho grinning behind him.

“Think he’ll do it?” Chan asks, leaning against the wall.

Minho snorts, rubbing his sore ribs. “Oh, he’ll do it. Or he’ll self-destruct. Either way, we win.”

Their laughter follows Seungmin down the hall, but for once, he doesn’t care. He’s got bigger things to worry about and her name is Y/N.

The Alpha Phi living room is a vortex of noise and chaos. The mismatched couches are packed with bodies. Jeongin and Felix are loudly arguing over the outcome of a video game, their hands flailing in exaggerated gestures, while Jisung lies sprawled on the floor, chip crumbs scattered around him like evidence of a crime. The massive TV blares the commentary of a football game, its volume competing with the general din. Minho is perched half-asleep on the armrest of the couch, his cherry-red hair a mess from running his fingers through it repeatedly, while Chan sits cross-legged on the floor, calmly trying to fix the connection on a janky Bluetooth speaker.

Seungmin reclines in the worn recliner, scrolling idly on his phone, tuning out the noise with practised ease. His legs are stretched out, and his dark eyes are fixed on the screen in front of him. It’s an average evening in the house, loud, chaotic, and comfortably predictable.

Until his phone rings.

The name flashing on the screen makes him sit up so abruptly that the chair creaks. He immediately presses the green button, his heart rate kicking up as he brings the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” His voice is calm, but there’s a sharp edge of alertness in it.

A soft sniffle echoes on the other end of the line, and every muscle in Seungmin’s body goes taut. “Seungmin,” your voice breaks, trembling and fragile, and it’s enough to make his blood run cold. “I—I didn’t know who else to call. He… he was awful. I just- I’m so sorry-”

“Hey,” Seungmin cuts in, his voice firm but gentle. “Stop apologizing. Just breathe, okay? Tell me where you are.”

Your breathing is shaky, but you manage to get the words out. “That sushi place near campus. I’m in the bathroom. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You did the right thing,” he says, already slipping his boots on with one hand and gesturing wildly at Minho with the other. “Stay there. Don’t leave the bathroom until Minho and I get there. We’re coming to get you.”

“Okay,” you whisper, barely audible, and the line goes quiet.

Seungmin stands, his movements quick and purposeful. “Minho. Shoes. Now. You’re driving.”

Minho’s lazy posture vanishes as he sits up, alert. “What? Why? What’s going on?”

“Y/N,” Seungmin says sharply, grabbing his jacket. “She’s in trouble.”

The room quiets instantly. Jeongin and Felix stop arguing mid-sentence, their heads snapping toward Seungmin. Jisung sits up from the floor, the chips forgotten. Even Chan abandons the Bluetooth speaker, standing with his arms crossed and his face serious.

“Fuck,” Minho mutters, pulling on his shoes. “What kind of trouble?”

“She’s at the sushi place,” Seungmin says, his tone tight. “And it’s because of the guy you introduced her to.”

Minho’s face falls, guilt flashing across his features. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit,” Seungmin snaps, already halfway to the door. “Now move.”

The drive to the restaurant is tense. Seungmin sits in the passenger seat, his foot tapping a relentless rhythm against the floor. He checks his phone every thirty seconds, the tight line of his jaw only softening when he glances at the screen and sees no new messages. Minho keeps his focus on the road, his hands gripping the wheel tighter than usual.

When they pull into the parking lot, Seungmin is out of the car before it even comes to a full stop. His sharp gaze sweeps across the glass front of the restaurant. Through the window, he spots the guy sitting at a table, casually scrolling through his phone as if nothing’s wrong. Seungmin’s blood boils.

Minho sees him too, muttering a low “Fuck” under his breath. “I’ll handle him,” he says, his voice hard. He pushes the car door open and strides toward the entrance, his usually laid-back demeanour replaced with something cold and dangerous.

Seungmin doesn’t wait to see what Minho does next. His focus is on you. He heads straight for the bathrooms at the back of the restaurant, his boots thudding heavily against the tile floor. Stopping just outside the door, he takes a deep breath before knocking softly.

“It’s me,” he says, his voice gentler now. “You can come out.”

There’s a long pause, followed by the faint sound of shuffling. The door creaks open slowly, and you step out. Your eyes are red and puffy, tear tracks glistening on your cheeks. Your arms are wrapped tightly around yourself, your whole frame trembling slightly.

The second you see him, something in you breaks. You step forward and bury your face in his chest, your hands clutching his jacket like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Seungmin freezes for a split second, his eyes wide with surprise. Then his arms wrap around you tightly, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other presses against your back, holding you close. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady. “You’re okay now. I’ve got you.”

You don’t say anything, but your fingers grip his jacket tighter, and your trembling becomes more pronounced. He holds you like that for what feels like forever, his heart pounding as he tries to stay calm for you.

When you finally pull back slightly, he keeps his hands on your shoulders, his dark eyes searching your face. “You’re safe,” he says, his voice firm but soft. “I promise. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Your lips tremble as you nod, but you still can’t bring yourself to speak. Seungmin brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch careful, grounding. “Do you want to tell me what happened? Or do you just want to leave?”

“Leave,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“Alright,” he says without hesitation. “Let’s go.”

He keeps a protective arm around you as he guides you out of the restaurant. As you pass through the dining area, his sharp gaze finds Minho, who is standing over the guy’s table, his expression icy and his arms crossed. The guy is slouched in his chair, looking decidedly less cocky than before, and Seungmin feels a flicker of satisfaction at the sight.

Outside, Minho’s car is waiting. Seungmin opens the back door for you, helping you in before sliding in beside you. Minho climbs into the driver’s seat a moment later, his face pale but his expression grim.

“Where to?” Minho asks, his voice quieter than usual.

“Back to the house,” Seungmin says firmly. “She’s staying with us tonight.”

Minho nods, starting the car without another word.

In the backseat, you lean against Seungmin’s shoulder, your body still trembling slightly. He doesn’t say anything, just rubs slow, soothing circles on your back with one hand, his touch steady and reassuring. The warmth of his presence and the quiet strength in his gestures begin to ease the tension in your chest, bit by bit.

The drive back to the Alpha Phi house is suffocatingly quiet. Minho’s hands grip the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white, his jaw clenched like he’s holding back a thousand words. In the backseat, Seungmin sits close beside you, one hand resting on your knee, steady and firm. It’s not invasive, not demanding. It’s just there, a silent promise of safety.

Your head leans against his shoulder, your breath shaky but starting to even out. He hasn’t said much since getting you out of the restaurant, but his presence is enough. When the car pulls into the driveway, the headlights casting long shadows against the house’s worn exterior, Seungmin nudges you gently.

“We’re here,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost soothing.

You sit up, your movements sluggish, and Seungmin is already out of the car, holding the door open for you. He offers you his hand, and you take it without hesitation, your fingers trembling slightly in his firm grasp.

Minho hesitates by the car, glancing between you and Seungmin with guilt written all over his face. “Do you need—”

“No,” Seungmin cuts him off sharply, his glare like a blade. “Just... go inside.”

Minho opens his mouth to argue but thinks better of it, nodding stiffly and heading up the steps without another word.

Seungmin keeps his arm around you as he guides you toward the house. The muffled sound of laughter and chatter spills out the windows, but the moment the two of you step through the front door, it dies like a switch has been flipped.

Jeongin, mid-laugh, stops abruptly, his expression shifting to confusion and concern. Felix, perched on the back of the couch, opens his mouth to say something, but Seungmin’s sharp glare silences him instantly.

“Not now,” Seungmin says, his tone flat but carrying an unmistakable edge of authority.

The room goes completely silent, everyone exchanging uneasy glances as Seungmin leads you upstairs. His grip on your shoulder remains steady, a grounding force as you ascend the creaky steps. You barely register the concerned murmurs behind you, too focused on the warmth of his touch and the growing knot in your chest.

When you reach his room, Seungmin pushes the door open and gently guides you inside. The familiar scent of his cologne wraps around you, grounding you further. He closes the door with a soft click, shutting out the world, and turns to face you.

You stand in the middle of the room, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. The dam you’ve been holding back all night finally breaks, and a small sob escapes before you can stop it.

“Hey,” Seungmin says softly, stepping closer. He sits on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside him. “Come here.”

You hesitate, fiddling with the hem of your dress. “I—”

“Y/N,” he interrupts, his tone gentle but firm. “Come here.”

You move slowly, sitting beside him. The second you’re close enough, he pulls you into his side, one arm draped securely around your shoulders. His warmth seeps into you, steadying your ragged breathing.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” he asks after a moment, his voice quieter now. “Or we can just sit here. Your call.”

You swallow hard, nodding slightly. “I- I tried to call the date off,” you start, your voice trembling. “I just- he wasn’t what I wanted. And when I told him that, he got-” Your breath hitches, and you shake your head, trying to steady yourself. “He started touching me. Grabbing me. I- I didn’t like it. I told him to stop, but he just laughed, and I panicked. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Seungmin’s entire body goes rigid beside you. His arm tightens protectively, and his jaw clenches so hard you can hear his teeth grind. “That piece of shit,” he mutters under his breath, his tone low and venomous.

You glance up at him, your eyes wide and glossy. “Maybe I overreacted,” you say quickly, your voice defensive as though you’re bracing for judgment. “Maybe I just-”

“No,” Seungmin cuts in, his voice sharp. He shifts to face you fully, his hands gripping your shoulders gently but firmly. “Don’t fucking do that, Y/N. Don’t blame yourself. If you were uncomfortable, then you were uncomfortable. That’s it. No one gets to fucking touch you without your consent.”

His words make your chest tighten, but in a different way. A warmth spreads through you, breaking through the lingering fear. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Seungmin’s gaze softens, his hands sliding down to your elbows. He exhales slowly like he’s forcing himself to calm down. “You deserve better than that,” he says quietly. “Better than some asshole who doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.”

“He wasn’t you, Seungmin,” you say before you can stop yourself.

The room goes still, the weight of your words hanging in the air between you. Seungmin’s eyes widen slightly, the sharpness in his expression giving way to something warmer, something softer.

“Good,” he says after a beat, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He pulls you into a tight hug, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head. “Because I’d never fucking treat you like that.”

You bury your face in his chest, letting his steady heartbeat and the warmth of his arms melt away the last traces of fear. For the first time all night, you feel like you can breathe again.

After a while, Seungmin pulls back slightly, one hand lingering on your shoulder. “You know,” he says, his tone lighter now, “Minho owes you a massive apology. I say we make him grovel.”

You let out a shaky laugh, wiping at your eyes. “It’s not his fault.”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow. “Sure, but letting him squirm a little wouldn’t hurt.”

You laugh again, stronger this time. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he says with a smirk. Then his expression softens, and he leans forward slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. “Hey. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“What?” you ask, tilting your head.

He hesitates for half a second, then his lips curl into a faint smile. “Go out with me. Let me take you on a real date.”

Your breath catches, your heart thudding in your chest. “You mean that?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice low but steady. “I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while. I just didn’t know how.”

A small smile spreads across your face. “I’d like that.”

Seungmin’s shoulders relax, the tension he’s been carrying all night finally easing. “Good,” he says, his smile widening. “Because I’ve been waiting for an excuse to make a move.”

You laugh softly, the sound bright and genuine. “You’re not very subtle, you know.”

He groans, rolling his eyes. “Don’t rub it in.”

“Cool and mysterious,” you tease, leaning a little closer. “Not exactly your vibe.”

Seungmin snorts, but the warmth in his gaze doesn’t waver. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Yeah,” you say, your smile softening. “I know.”

The quiet knock on the door is hesitant, a rare sound from someone like Minho. Before either of you can respond, it creaks open, revealing him standing there in sweats and a hoodie that’s slightly too big for him. His cherry-red hair is a mess, like he’s spent the last hour running his hands through it in frustration. His usual cocky smirk is absent, replaced by something far more uncertain—almost guilty.

Seungmin’s eyes narrow, though he doesn’t move from where he’s perched on the bed beside you, his arm loosely draped behind your back. “What do you want?” he asks, his tone clipped.

Minho hesitates in the doorway, his eyes flicking between you and Seungmin. His hands stay buried in his pockets, his shoulders slouched as if he’s bracing for impact. “I’m… fuck, I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t fucking know he was going to be like that. I just thought—shit, I thought I was helping.”

You exchange a quick glance with Seungmin, who huffs but doesn’t say anything. Slowly, you stand and cross the room toward Minho, ignoring the way his eyes widen slightly in surprise. Before he can protest or retreat, you wrap your arms around him and pull him into a hug.

Minho stiffens for a moment, caught off guard, but then he melts into the embrace with a sigh, resting his chin on your shoulder. His arms come up, circling your waist with a grip that’s firmer than you expect—like he’s the one who needs comforting.

“I know,” you say softly, your voice muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Minho lets out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Still. I feel like a fucking asshole.”

“You’re not,” you say firmly, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “I think you scared him off, anyway.”

Minho smirks faintly, though the guilt still lingers in his eyes. “Good,” he mutters. “But I’m gonna fight him. Just so you know. That prick doesn’t get to pull that shit and walk away.”

“Do what you need to,” you reply softly, resting a hand on his arm.

His smirk falters, and his grip tightens almost imperceptibly. “You’re too fucking nice,” he mutters, his voice low and rough. “You know that?”

“Minho,” you wheeze dramatically, giggling weakly as his hold becomes borderline crushing. “Can’t breathe.”

“Shut up,” Minho says, though his tone is lighter now. “I’m processing being wrong, and I’m not taking it well.”

Seungmin snorts loudly from the bed, crossing his arms as he leans back against the headboard. “Never thought I’d see the day,” he says dryly. “Minho, wrong about something? Someone call the press.”

You laugh again, a little stronger this time, and Minho scowls over your shoulder. “You’re fucking enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Seungmin replies without hesitation, his smirk sharp.

Minho pulls back from the hug, ruffling his already messy hair with a groan. “This is a disaster. I try to help, and it just blows up in my face. I should’ve known you were too much of a coward to ask her out on your own.”

“Here we fucking go,” Seungmin mutters, rolling his eyes.

Minho points an accusatory finger at him. “You. This is partly your fault. If you’d just grown a pair and asked her out, I wouldn’t have had to intervene!”

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “And your intervention led to exactly what? A shitshow?”

Minho throws up his hands. “I’ll admit it! I fucked up, alright? But don’t act like you didn’t need the nudge.”

Seungmin leans forward slightly, his voice razor-sharp. “Next time, keep your fucking nudges to yourself.”

“Boys,” you interject softly, your tone patient but firm. Both of them snap their attention back to you, and you give Minho a small, reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Really. No one’s perfect, Minho.”

Minho looks at you, his expression softening further. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Seriously, though. If you need anything—anything at all—you come to me. I don’t care what it is, okay?”

You nod, your smile warm. “I will. Thanks, Minho.”

He leans down slightly, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. His voice drops to a low, serious tone. “I mean it, Y/N. I’ll fight anyone for you. Literally anyone.”

“I know,” you whisper, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his words. “But I think you’ve done enough for tonight.”

Minho straightens up with a sigh, ruffling your hair playfully. “Fine. But if that prick so much as breathes in your direction again, he’s dead.”

Seungmin chuckles from the bed, shaking his head. “You’ll have to get in line for that, Minho.”

Minho smirks, turning back to him. “Big talk from the guy who’s been dragging his feet all fucking semester. Don’t get all protective now—you’ve got a date to plan.”

Seungmin flips him off without missing a beat, and Minho’s grin widens. You can’t help but laugh, the tension in the room finally dissolving as they slip back into their usual banter.

For the first time all night, everything feels like it might actually be okay.

The hum of the city murmurs faintly in the background as you linger outside your apartment building, your phone clutched loosely in one hand. The early evening air is warm, carrying the faint tang of gasoline and asphalt. The golden glow of the setting sun drenches everything in soft, honeyed light. You catch your reflection in a nearby window and smooth down the strap of your yellow bustier crop top. The fabric hugs you snugly, the bright color contrasting against your black flared pants, which sway lightly in the warm breeze. Your black Converse scuff against the pavement as you shift your weight nervously.

The distant growl of an engine draws your attention, low and throaty, vibrating through the air. You glance up as a sleek black motorbike rounds the corner, Seungmin perched effortlessly on top like he was born there. The machine glints in the fading sunlight, polished but clearly well-loved, with just enough wear to make it look lived-in. Seungmin slows the bike as he approaches, and your breath catches at the sight of him.

He’s dressed head to toe in black, cargo trousers that hang low on his hips, a fitted black t-shirt that clings to his lean frame, a well-worn leather jacket zipped halfway, and scuffed boots that look like they’ve seen more road than carpet. His hair is slightly tousled from the wind, and there’s a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he kills the engine and kicks the stand down.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, stepping closer as the silence rushes in to fill the space the engine left behind. “You didn’t tell me you had a motorbike.”

Seungmin swings his leg off with ease, the motion fluid and confident. His boots hit the pavement with a satisfying thud as he straightens up, shrugging casually. “Not something I go around broadcasting,” he says, his tone dry but tinged with amusement. “But I figured it’d make a decent first date impression.”

“Decent?” you echo, your eyes wide and sparkling. “Seungmin, this is fucking unreal.”

His smirk deepens, and he reaches behind the seat, pulling out a smaller leather jacket. He holds it out to you, his fingers brushing yours briefly as you take it. “Jisung’s,” he explains. “Figured you’d need one. You’re about the same size, and he won’t notice it’s missing for at least a week.”

You shrug the jacket on, the leather slightly oversized but warm and reassuring. “It’s perfect,” you say, zipping it up. “Jisung has surprisingly good taste.”

Seungmin chuckles, then picks up the helmet hanging from the handlebars. He steps closer, his movements deliberate as he gently places it over your head. “Hold still,” he murmurs, his voice dropping a notch. His fingers brush against your jaw as he fastens the strap under your chin, his touch light but lingering. Once the helmet is secure, he pulls back, his dark eyes meeting yours through the visor. “Ready?”

You nod eagerly, your pulse quickening. “Hell yes.”

He grins, climbing back onto the bike and steadying it with ease. He gestures for you to climb on, his smirk playful. “Hop on, daredevil.”

You swing your leg over the seat carefully, your movements slightly hesitant as you settle in behind him. The leather of his jacket is cool against your palms as you wrap your arms around his waist. You feel the firm press of his body beneath your hands, steady and grounding.

“How fast do you want to go?” he asks, glancing back at you over his shoulder, his voice muffled but clear.

You lean closer, your voice daring and breathless. “Fast enough to feel like we’re fucking flying.”

His smirk turns almost wicked, and he nods. “Alright. Hold on tight.”

The bike roars to life beneath you, the deep rumble reverberating through your legs and chest. You tighten your grip on Seungmin’s waist as he pulls onto the street, the bike purring as it eases into motion. The city blurs past, a kaleidoscope of lights and colours, as Seungmin weaves through traffic with effortless precision. The wind rushes against you, tugging at the loose strands of your hair that escape from the helmet.

You laugh, the sound bubbling out of you like champagne, light and effervescent. “This is fucking insane!” you shout, your voice barely audible over the wind.

Seungmin glances at you in the rearview mirror, his grin sharp and full of exhilaration. “You good back there?” he calls.

“Never better!” you reply, tightening your hold on him as he picks up speed.

The city begins to thin, the towering buildings giving way to open stretches of road. The air cools as the sun dips lower, painting the sky in streaks of deep orange and fiery pink. Seungmin leans into the curves of the road, his movements fluid, the bike responding to him like an extension of his body. You cling to him, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Faster?” he calls over his shoulder, his voice teasing but tinged with excitement.

“Y!” you shout back, your voice full of laughter.

He obliges, twisting the throttle and sending the bike surging forward. The wind whips past you, the world blurring into streaks of colour and motion. For a moment, it feels like nothing else exists. Just the bike, the open road, and Seungmin’s steady presence.

Eventually, Seungmin slows the bike, pulling onto a quiet stretch of road lined with tall trees. He kills the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening after the rush of the ride. He flips up his visor, glancing back at you with a smirk.

“Still breathing?” he asks, his tone light and teasing.

You pull off the helmet, shaking out your hair as you catch your breath. “Barely. That was incredible.”

He chuckles, leaning back slightly as he watches you with a mixture of amusement and something softer. “Glad you liked it.”

“Liked it?” you repeat, your grin wide. “Seungmin, that is the best fucking date of my life.”

His smirk softens into a genuine smile, and he reaches out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Good,” he murmurs. “That was the goal.”

The sky above has deepened into twilight, the first stars beginning to dot the horizon. You tilt your head back, taking in the clear expanse, the cool night air brushing against your skin. Beside you, Seungmin shifts slightly, resting his elbows on the handlebars as he watches you.

“You’re something else,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a note of awe.

You glance at him, your cheeks warming at the sincerity in his gaze. “So are you, Seungmin.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, but I think you’ve got me beat.”

You laugh softly, leaning closer to him, the warmth of his presence chasing away the lingering coolness of the air. “Guess we’ll call it a tie.”

His grin returns, sharp and playful. “Deal. But only because it’s you.”

The air between you feels charged, the adrenaline from the ride mingling with something deeper, more electric. Seungmin's eyes meet yours, and without hesitation, his hands find your waist, his grip firm but grounding as he lifts you gently off the bike and sets you down. The world feels steady beneath your feet, but your heart is anything but.

“Come here,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, a sound that sends a shiver coursing through your spine.

Before you can respond, his hand slides to the small of your back, tugging you closer. His other hand tangles in your hair, tilting your face toward his. The heat of his body presses into you as he dips you slightly, his lips crashing into yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless. The kiss is searing, unrestrained. Like he’s been holding himself back for far too long and has finally decided to let go. His fingers tighten in your hair, and the hand on your back presses you flush against him, eliminating any space.

Your hands fly to his chest instinctively, gripping the fabric of his t-shirt as you melt into him. The faint scent of leather, wind, and his cologne surrounds you, intoxicating and grounding all at once. His lips are soft yet demanding, each movement carrying the weight of everything he hasn’t said out loud. The cool night air bites at your skin, but it’s drowned out by the fire between you.

When he finally pulls back, his lips linger close to yours, his breath warm against your skin. His thumb brushes against your waist absentmindedly, and his eyes, dark and intense, lock onto yours. A grin slowly spreads across his face, equal parts smug and genuinely amused. “You’re gonna have to hang on tighter than that for the ride back to the frat,” he teases, his voice roughened with desire.

You let out a soft laugh, still catching your breath as you clutch his jacket for balance. “I think I can manage,” you say, your voice softer than usual but no less sure. “I’ve got my very own speed demon. How could I say no?”

His grin widens, that slightly cocky, slightly boyish charm making your stomach flip. “Damn right you do,” he mutters, leaning in to steal another kiss, this one quick and playful but no less electrifying.

He steps back reluctantly, letting out a breath as if steadying himself, before turning to grab your helmet from the bike. “Helmet back on, daredevil,” he says, his voice light but still carrying that teasing edge.

You tilt your head as he steps closer, holding the helmet up for you. “Oh, you’re worried about safety?” you tease, but you stand still as he slides the helmet over your head with careful hands.

His fingers brush against your jaw as he adjusts the strap under your chin, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “Gotta keep you alive,” he says with a smirk. “Wouldn’t be much of a date if you died halfway through.”

You laugh, the sound muffled by the helmet but no less genuine. “Fair point.”

Once the helmet is secure, he tilts the visor down, his dark eyes crinkling slightly with amusement as he steps back. “More Tudor art when we get back?” he asks, his tone casual but his gaze still holding that spark of mischief.

You pretend to think, tapping your finger against the helmet. “Depends. Are you going to admit that Anne Boleyn was a badass?”

“For you?” he says, his smirk softening into something more sincere. “I’ll admit anything.”

Your laugh echoes in the cool night air as you climb back onto the bike, wrapping your arms around his waist again. This time, your grip is tighter, not just because of the ride but because you don’t want to let go.

Seungmin revs the engine, the deep, throaty growl vibrating through your chest. He glances over his shoulder, his voice carrying over the roar. “Ready?”

“Always,” you say, your voice steady despite the helmet.

He grins, twisting the throttle, and the bike surges forward, cutting through the night like a blade. The city lights blur around you as Seungmin navigates the streets with the same effortless confidence as before, but this time, the ride feels different. It’s not just adrenaline now—it’s something more grounded, more connected. Each twist and turn feels like a shared secret, the warmth of his body steadying you as the wind rushes past.

As the city falls behind you, replaced by quiet streets and patches of open road, the sky above deepens into twilight. The stars begin to peek through the inky blackness, their faint light mirrored in the shimmering horizon ahead. You press yourself closer to Seungmin, the steady rhythm of his breathing grounding you even as the bike picks up speed.

When the lights of the frat house finally come into view, you feel a pang of regret that the ride is almost over. The bike slows as Seungmin pulls smoothly into the driveway, the rumble of the engine fading as he cuts the power. He kicks down the stand and turns to you, his grin still firmly in place.

“Still breathing?” he asks, his voice teasing as he removes his helmet.

You pull off your helmet, your hair tumbling out in a mess of strands. “Barely,” you reply, laughing softly. “But that was fucking worth it.”

He chuckles, watching you with a mixture of amusement and something softer. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Takes one to know one,” you fire back, your smile widening.

Seungmin shakes his head, clearly trying not to laugh, and steps closer to help you off the bike. His hands find your waist again, steadying you as your feet hit the ground. This time, his touch lingers, his dark eyes scanning your face as if committing every detail to memory.

“Ready to dive back into Tudor art?” he asks, his tone teasing but affectionate.

You roll your eyes, a laugh bubbling out of you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“For you?” he says, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Always.”

You shake your head, biting back a grin, and follow him toward the house. The warm glow of the frat house lights spills out onto the driveway, and as you step inside, you feel the lingering coolness of the night disappear entirely. With Seungmin by your side, everything feels exactly as it should.

[the-odd-shu]

So, *grabs your hands* lets be delusional together for a moment. Where do you think Jayce and Viktor ended up after the rune teleported them?

(Does Viktor keep his Herald form? Is he as he is in his astral form? Does his body return to how it was before he absorbed the hexcore? Is he partially purple and full of metal? You decide.

It Jayce back in his normal body? Does he keep his astral form and the white hair look? Does Jayce keep the beard and the scars?)

Personally, I love the idea of thrusting them into video games after being teleported out of the Arcane Universe.

Maybe they load into Minecraft. Blary eyed and confused after being ripped atom from atom and feeling the other's hand slip from their grip. I would eat up them awkardly collecting resources, building themselves a cute little cottage together and figure out how to work redstone, all whilst talking out what happened in Season 2 and learning to forgive and move forward.

(For some reason they can hear the relaxing music in the background, and it definitely makes it hard for them to fight. I also like to think that the cave noises scare the shit out of both of them).

Maybe they wake up in the resurrection shrine of Breath of the Wild, shoulder to shoulder, as the water drains out of the bottom. And they end up having to go save some random woman trapped in a castle. (This of course could be an AU and you can replace the various BOTW characters with Zaunites and Piltovern citizens). They both have amnesia, but somehow know they want to stick together rather than split ways after the tutorial. And the memories they regain through the Sheikah slate remind them of Season 1 and 2.

Fuck it, put them in the Witcher: Wild Hunt. I want Witcher!Jayce and Witcher!Viktor travelling together. (Remember this isn't necessarily an AU where their personalities and/or morals match up with the character, this is a continuation straight from Season 2, so I love the idea of these two waking up, and having weird, uncanny, supernatural hunting instincts, and bright, cat-like eyes and having no idea why everyone in every town is being so mean). Astral, white-haired Viktor and Jayce for these witchers because HELL YEAH juicy angst. Which school would they be in? Maybe Jayce being a Wolf because he's a heavy hitter, and more grounded in his combat style, and thrives when in company (like a member of a wolf pack). Whereas I'd see Viktor as a Cat, with his poisons and sneaky/stealth fighting style. He's slight and on the smaller side, so a Cat Witcher's tactic would work better for him. On that note, what happens during winter? Is Jayce drawn to Kaer Morhen. Does Viktor have an instinct to seek out the carvan? Do they collectively fight the instincts and remain together, unwilling to separate after what happened last time they left one another?

[mossybee-exe]

Solaprunk Worldbuilding 1 - Eco-Cities

I've been working on worldbuilding a solarpunk setting for a slice of life story I'm writing and thought I'd share some of my ideas to maybe inspire other people!

In this world there is no government, no rules, no pressures or bad people. Just society working together after a global crash. A second chance to do things right this time.

(Mind the spelling mistakes)

Although far and few in between, big cities and towns still exist in this universe. However, they've all worked hard to keep it as eco-friendly as possible and still choose to live alongside and work with nature rather than fight it.

Trash and recyclingcans can now be found almost everywhere, giving no one an excuse to litter. Community composters are also a thing.

Skyscrapers, now skeletons of the old world, are draped in thick ivy vine walls, native flowering vines, moss panels, and vertical hydroponics that wrap around the metal and glass bones. These help regulate temperature, absorb CO2, and create habitats fors birds and insects.

Former office buildings and shopping centers like malls have been repurposed into shared living spaces, community markets, workshops, and event areas. Floors have open walls and breeze tunnels to reduce reliance on cooling systems. Those can be shut during colder months.

In taller districts, tree houses extend from reclaimed buildings, blending organically with planted rooftop forests. Rope bridges and wind-activated elevators made if recycled parts help people travel between vertical spaces.

Cities are completely walkable and don't require transportation. Streets are narrow and shaded with plant canopies. Most paved areas are soft permeable cobblestone or moss-tile paths that allow rain to soak through instead of pooling or flooding.

Painted murals double as maps - bold, hand-painted designs show landmarks, walking trails, tram routes, and local art projects. Updated regularly by volunteers.

Giant sculpted trees or mushrooms function ad rainwater collectors, solar lanterns, or even mist sprayers during hot days. Children often climb on them or gather nearby to play. They can also provide shade.

Metal "bike trees" hold dozens if free-to-use bikes, all maintained by volunteers. Bikes come in all colors and sizes, some decorated with flowers or art to reflect the community's personality.

Solar Trams glide quietly on narrow tracks. They're sleek but not flashy, designed with recycled metals and glass. Inside, seats are made from reclaimed wood, each with a small solar lamp or charging port. Solar Buses work in a similar fashion.

Public Plazas now have eco-escalators that are powered by pedaling like on a bike.

Interactive screens at intersections and stops show local events, weather and climate, community votes or messages, and tutorial videos on composting, repair, herbal medicine, or art-making. Digital marketing and advertisements are no more.

Most people carry small, solar-powered devices that have replaced phones called "Data Stones" - slate-like digital notebooks that sync to the city's mesh network. People use them for Journaling, mapping, music, or community messaging, but never for mindless scrolling. Digital use is intentional, not addictive.

The internet exists, but it's localized. Instead of one global net, each town or city has a mesh intranet. Communities upload and share stories, tech guides, magazines, songs, and documentaries- all accessible for free.

At every city node is a "Commons Booth"-a repurposed phone booth now used for small trades, gifts, or lost-and-found. You might find a hand-knit hat, seeds, poems in a bottle, hand-bound journals, or a small bag if dried herbs for tea.

Public parks host weekly workshops: mushroom log inoculation, fixing Guardianers, upcycling old tech, dyeing fabrics with natural materials, and crafting musical instruments from trash.

Fireflies are protected and welcomed into urban life with dedicated "nightlight gardens"- small glowing sanctuaries that bloom under moonlight (usually a mix of regular and bioluminescent plants). People sit quietly here, reading or singing. Festivals are celebrated not with fireworks, but light dances, candlelit parades, or bioluminescent art. It's also a romantic place for a date.

Children and adults alike use "Learning Loops"- open-air circles of benches and tree stumps near gardens and community spaces where mentors teach based on skills, not age. There's no formal school system. Learning is woven into life.

On a certain day each month, citizens volunteer to teach something for free-sailing knots, solar repair, compost chemistry, storytelling, mediation, bird language. The city slows down that day. It's treated like a holiday.

In addition to tire-posted Little Libraries (where people can take a book and leave one in it's place), entire alleys have been converted into "Book Gardens"- free libraries under pergolas or vines, surrounded by reading hammocks and native wildflowers.

Local businesses and shops are still a thing, but are not kept up by money. Money has no use in this world anymore. Businesses upkeep it themselves and will happily trade their wares for something in return. For example, a bakery can trade a cake for something in return like a jar of jam or something else. It's like that everywhere.

Citizens enjoy solar-charged cooking stoves, clean water from centralized purification systems, access to upcycled tech, 3D-printed tools, and digital artist hubs.

Markets overflow with herbs, handmade instruments, mushroom leathers, fermented goods, and hand-bound books from across the region. Some city dwellers specialize in creating high-tech eco-dafe goods to trade with the countryside.

Most people live in co-housing clusters or share entire floors of old skyscrapers converted into lush indoor gardens and social spaces. They might not know everyone, but each block has caretakers and community gatherings.

They're alive with creativity and innovation. Mural projects, street musicians using windows instruments powered by movement, and holographic poetry displays powered by pedals or solar generators.

With more people comes more variety in skills. It's common to find classes in herbalism, robotics, or solar carpentry happening daily in public courtyards.

The ideas are free to use for whatever you want or use for inspiration! All I ask is that you CREDIT ME! And feel free to send me an ask on more details to this lovely world :)

[defying-sims-4]

Fixed-Open Door Tutorial: Sims 4

Ever needed a door held open for a posed screenshot? Ever wanted a door in your build to stay perpetually open, only to be frustrated in this universe where everybody constantly slams shut their damn doors? Do I have the solution for you…