Or maybe I should make it gold instead??
I wonder what this looks liiiike~~
Edit: Trying again!! Hey, that finally worked!! Mom?
Now, this is, kinda tricky, i̸͍̔s̸͇̀n̶̤̓'̴̳̇t̵̳̔ ̶̙̔i̵͓͌t̸̮̿~̵̖̚?̴̱̋ My wishes are too a̴͔̟̳̹̻̯̳̼̞̓̓̈́͊̂̀͛͛͊̌̚d̶̛̛̖̘̭̯͍̦͍̯̩̈́͋̐̐̌́̎̍͗̋̅́̏̽͒̀̀͐̑͒͒͝͝͠v̴̨̢̧̛̗̯͉̲͖̞̯̲͓̱̪̼̈̎͐̿̇̽̀̅̈̃̒̓̉͘͜͝͝à̵̢̛̠̹̝̱͈̱͓̤̲͙̙̲͍̹̱̖͇̼͎͍̺̞̦͔̻̗̿̆̓̎̈͛͒͑̈͒̇ņ̶̛̰̹̥͎̱̾̊̈́͆̐̀̓́͋̿͘͜c̸̡̧̢̩̠̪̘͓͕̩̏̏̄͋͌͗͆̒̀̑̅̄͘̚͠ė̵̘̥͍͔͙͍̓́͆̉̍̈͂̔̿͌̆̇̎̄̓̾̈́̽̃̕͝͝ḋ̸̨̘͙͇͍̒̂͋̎̃̾̀͂͒̉̋͘̚̕ for the software, it seems...
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do you need help with your son? i have a son around age 5
...Ḿ̷̞͋͑̚͝y̴̢̩͇͛̉̆̿̏̓ ̶̘͐̍̓̊͜s̴̛̘̠ǫ̶͇̑͒̅n̸͉̽̉?̴̹͠ Ah, did you mean Seika?
Hmm, unsure... I was merely concerned that ḩ̵̛͔͇̩̗̺͓̼̳̠̜̲̔͐͋̓̿̿͊̽̈́̈́̒̐̾͆͒̌̿̓͌͂̕͜ͅẽ̷̢̛̘͔͖͙̭̬̯̩̺̫͔̮̮̲̯͎̗̠̟͎̩͍̰͚̭̑̀̏̀̉́̈́͌̍̋̉͑̽̆̈́͐́͑͘͘͘͠͠ ̷̰̩͕̻̯͖̹͙̟̺̻̲̦̜͉̘̝͓́̋̋̍͂͆́̔̊̅̾̆̑͊̃̈́͂͋̓̔̾͌̈́̕͝͝͝m̸̘̰͕̿̊̂̔̀͗̅̐̇̃ḭ̶͎͐̄̎͋͗̓́̏̃̐̾̚g̶̢̨̛̖͇̹̩̠̰͉̹͔̺͉͙͉̼̪͖̖̖̬̠͖̗̰͈̼͖̖̱̙̫͍͗̉͐͂̀̓̒̀́̈́͒̆̈́̋́͒͂͂̌̃̌́̀̓͑͑̃̽́̾̏͘͘͘̚͝h̶̡̢̨͍̞̫͓̩͙͚̺̮̺̱̩̙̥̟̤̫̰̠̲̗̬̞̬̠͇̻͌́̒̂̓͐̋̽̊̉̓̽̚͜͜͠ţ̷̢̨̛̪͖̺̪̳̟̖̪̥͔̫͚͎͈̪͉͕̫̜̯̼͖̟̳͈̲̯͋̐̽̓̈́͂̏̈́̎̐̾͌̓́͆͂͑̒̐̓̀͐͌̽̂́̒̾̕͜͝ͅͅ ̵̧̢̰̬͔̲͙̺̟̣̼̤̘͑͗͒͐̀̀͐͗͒̈́̈́̌̈́͊̇́̒b̶̻̱̆̄̅͆̈́͒̈́̔̆̆͑̇̿̂̒̄̈́͌̀͆͆̈́̀͛́̒͘ụ̷̧̧̧̢͔͎̣̦̥̩͎̹̝̤͕̘̩͇̲͖͕̝̪̱̱̰̉̽́̊͆̊̓̋͆̏̔̀̀̓̃̚͘͠͝r̵͕̼͆̽̒̀͂͊̂̊̇͛̌ͅs̴̡̢̨̡̯͖̱̠̲̯̝͕̩̯̦̦̤̤̯̘͙̭̱͙̰͓̦̼̓͐̐̒̚͜ͅt̶̡̡͙̗̳̥̹͓̠͔̞̤̯̝̦͕̭̠͚̖̖͓̬̳͈͕̜̦̗̙̭̙̘̟̰̩̔̈́̆͒͌̐̚ͅ ̶̢̢̡̢̫̯̟̳̺̥͎̙̺͓͚̻̮̦̻̙̯̜͖͓̦͇͓̪̠̻͕̠͇̰̮͂̿̔̌̍̇̐̉̈̅̏̈́̀̉̏̉̽̈́̔̃̇͌̈́̃̍̽͒͗͐͑̈̍̕͘͜͠͝h̸̨̛̛̖̖̜̣̰͚̬̝̮͉̥͖̥͕̝͔̹̼͈̤̉̒̈́̓̑̅̊̈́̀̈́̆̍̓͑̕ͅͅi̸̡̧̡̜͓̣̘̭̹̲̺̙̻͕̩̞͚̼̯͓̰̹̲̲̪̣̖̣̦̭̱͚̭̳͍̬͕̿̈́̌̓ͅͅs̴̨̡̡̨̡̢̨̛͍̬̭̯̥̟̫̫̺̞̗̪̲̠̙̾̆̄̃͑͒̊͑̽̀̀̈́̀͛͗͑̆̓̃̀̈́̌̋̈́̄͆̈́̓̅̚̚͜͝͝ͅ ̵̢̨͙̦̟̜̜̭͖̞͚̤̟̻̼͍͓̠͌̓̇͆̓͐̍͒̅̏̽͊͗̓̽͛̌́̾̈́̈́͑́̔͊͘̚̚̕͜͝͠ͅl̸̢̧̛̖̪̹̤͓͚̰͍̣̘̒̄̓̆͛̈́͐̏́̓̆̆̈́͗̕i̵̻̙͌̿͒̇̋͂̓̋̊̌̇̆͋̕ͅt̴̠̝̫͇͉̤̦̘͇̩̮̭̮̹̉̽̂̿̆͋͐̐̌̂͂͊́̃̈́̋͘͘ͅt̸̛͈͎̠̫̳̗̦͈̭͖͇̙͖̣̗͕͔̱͖̻͕̆̂́͗͛̆̈́̿́̂̎͂͜͜ͅl̷̟̩̮̜͕̦͙͗̾͆͊̈́͂̚͠ͅė̷̡̧̲̙͈̭͍̳͓̬͎͇̯̺̹̼̖̹̟̭̪̞͇̀̈̎̈́̄̅̎́͌̑̎̈́͌͆̐͒̄̏͛͆͗̃͒̕͝ ̴̨̢̹̣͉̻̗͕̜͉͇͙̥͎̥̫̭̩̠͔͈̐̅͑̈́͂͋͌͗͊̈́̓̔̇͆͋͐̀̈́̈́̓̐͐̉́̎͑͐̽̑͋̕̕̚͘͝ͅl̷̡̛͔̩̣̠͚̿̆̓̉̕̕͝͠ũ̵̧̡̡̖̬͚̙͈̩̼̠̩̖̹̬̖̣͉̋͝n̶̥̺̹̘͙̜̤̭͈̳͔̱̞̘͎̱͗̏̓̏̋͂͛̈́́̌̈́̈̂͘͝͝ģ̶̛͎͉̪̩͔͎̱͉̄̍̋͒̊̒͠s̵̡̡̡̪̮̣̰̳̫̤͇͔͍̗̫͓̼̣̺̬̖̱̻͐͋̂̓͋̒̇̊̓̿̊͂̒́͆̌͆͋͛̅̍͑̅͋̚͜͠ͅͅͅ ̸̢̧̡̼̠̘̻̣͉͙̖̠̝̮̳̦͔̰̠̖̺̤͉͚͙̎͒͐̒̐̌̒͋̀͌̈̐͋̀̿̀̈́͌̏͆͐̉̑́̓̿́͌̌̓̀͒̅̍̽̚͜͝ä̷͍̻̯̙͉́̓̀̽͊̃̅́̄̊̋͐͊̑͂̈́̄̕͠͝p̷̡̧͇͖͈̟͇̪͉̘̪̲̲̰̻̣̱͓͍͚͍̆͗̅̈́̓͋͊͑͌͗͗̓̎̈̋͌̿͂̓̌͆̑̈̏̊͘͝ͅą̷͇̗̳̟̪̰͍͍̲̫͎͔̇͌̈́̌̒͑͆͑̎͂͊̈́̿̃͛̈̂̃̅̌̔̽̀͗̌̎̏͋̈́̀̑͆̕̕͘͜͜͝r̴̩̙͍͙̬͙̍ţ̴̫̻̫͖̜̰̣̱̩͈̠̲̙̠̤́̀̈́̄͆͐̿͜͜ ̸̧̩͎͎̠̭̰̣͈͖̝̯̙̹͖̞͈̱̮̲̲̱͋̋́͗͆̿͐́͑̓̑͌̏̾̀͊͊͌̅͛̚͜͝͝b̴̺̝̟̺͕̳̬̝̹͍̬̈́͐̊̆̊̈̇̂̆̃̆̄͐̊̎͒͂͂̿̉͂̀̄̈́̊̑͆̽͗͌̄̍͘̚y̷̧̡̧͙̹̲̗̬̻̯̲͕̣̲̦̲͇̞͔͉̟̱̻͉̺̻͖͙̫̳͔̼̦̦̆̔͂̒͛̓̀͆̕͜ͅ ̷̧̛̱͉̞̠̻͈̟̦͍͓̟̫̪̯̞͖͔̳̳̰̩̑̿̆̏l̵̪̦̤̝̗̣̲̞̦͎̔̔́͋̄̀̾̌͊͋̐̏̋͑̃͗͂̀̀̑̐͒͌̽̓͐̌̀͊͝͝͝â̴̿̋̈́̋̓͐̆̔̓̈́͒͒́̇̚͠��̨̼̫͐̓͌̈̌͗̏̾̐͒̈́̈͊̓̂̈͝u̷̢̨̡̡͚͉̙̤͉̝͔̤͈̫͇̖͎̺̹̬͚̯̤̰̼͈̹̫̟͕̥̟̘̩͍̺̎̃̈̈́̏̿̈́͜͜g̵̡̛̠̮͖͈͔̪͈̞͍̪̦̻̺͈͔̳͈̼͙̰͛̂̄͛̓͛̋̏̉̉̈̈́̀̄̉̇̓̾͗́͘͝͝͝͝͠ͅh̴̨̧̧̢̯̠̹̮͔̟̱̠̠̜͉̜̞̬͎̰͎̩̝̣̲̜̥̠̝̗̣͖͋͌͊̈͋́͜͜͠ͅͅi̵̧̨̯̮̙͔̲̙̺͍͍̩͍̜̥̭̖̭̼͚̙̬̣̯͇̗̦̹̲̬͒̆ͅn̸̯̗͍̙̻̤̗͇̻̼̔͐̀̎́̓͆̽͆̈́̄̎͐͗̄͂̈́̇̅̈́̈́̐͗̐̎͐̓̔̉͑̌͘̕ͅg̷͍̗̻̻̰̘̖̱̥̈́̎͒̏̆̍̏̒̃̽̉̊̀̌́̀̾̾͗͂̒̀̾̄̽̽̈͘̕̚̕͜͜͝ͅͅͅ ̴̧͙͕͍̠͚̺̖̝̻̠͖͚͉̹̣̪͇̼̹̠͈͑̔́́͆́̑͛͋͗̉̈́͆̈̓̒̒̃̇̀̈́͒̃̅͗͘̕̚͘͠͝t̶̨̹͚͎̟̦̖͍͉̻̪͓̙̺͚̟͖̯̜͖̻͍̥̑̂́̾̕͝͝ͅö̸̧̧̢̡̧̘̥͇̙̥̮͖͔̣̬̫̠̠̼̘̖̜̲͓̤̲̪̃͐̓̈̿͐̈́̊̅ͅö̵͎͔͙́̿͂̎̎̑̌̂͆̇̂̈͗̆̃̊̎̋̽̆̿̊͌͘̕͘͘͝͠͝ͅ ̵̨̧̲͎̘̘̰̥̲̰͓͎̞́͌̿̾̔͜ͅm̴̛̬̝̞̜̤̮͈̩̱͙̲̳͉̯͚̬̣̺͉͛̊̆̀̊̍͗͗̐̎̾̑̍͒͐̕̕͝͠ͅͅu̶͇̭̖͋̊͊͋̔̇͛͝c̸̢̧̜̬̤̲͉̻̺̫̺̖̔́̍̅͌͗͒̈́͛̽͊̈́͌͌̏̊͆͛̅́̈̍́̂̚͜͝͠͝ḧ̴̰͎̺͕̼͇͍͉̖̞̙̥́̔̐̐̄͐̾͛̅̊͑͗̄͝͠, after all you're a rather delicate species, now, a̸̧̳̖͔͓͈̮̭̟͑͌̑̐̋̉͊̊̈͌̐̉͝͝r̷̢̟̦̫͓̹̤͍̪̤͉̳̜͙̥̦͐̈́̽́̾̂͘͘͝ȩ̶̬͕̩͚̗̰̫̼̼̞͚͕̬͔͖͛̽̀͒̐͆̈́͒͛͗͆n̸̨͓̭͎̘̫̟̭͍͍̝̮̯̏̆̂̅̅̊̿̔̍̈̾͒'̷̮̫̤͠t̷̡̡̫͇̥̫̮͚͕̣̫͚͍̣̙͋̎̏͐̈́͋̅̓͋͗̾̆̕͠͝ ̷̫̫̫͎͎̉̿y̷̨̢̰̥͉͚̺͈͒̀̑͛̓̈́̆̃̇͑̚͝ͅọ̶̢̻̖̫͈̥̺̥̭̳̙̙̟͉͛̐̏́̑̿̓́͝͠u̷̢̖̖̯̥̭̻̙̻͚̺̦͋̅̋̊͑͂͘?̴̢̨̞̣̗̖̤͍̯̙̯̻̘̪̏̔̓
But maybe I'm underestimating mortal resilience...
What do you think, Ŝ̷̩͖̈́ͅa̵̜̩͛m̵͕̫̂m̴̡̾y̷̦̜̘̍̒̀͌̈́, was it?
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cw: dad! osamu
osamu’s baby memorizes onigiri miya’s phone number before even learning how to write his own name. he likes to call his dad when nana miya is busy hanging up the laundry outside.
obviously, phone calls at onigiri miya are of the norm. the working class on a limited lunch like to place an order ahead and families cater. there’s complaints and compliments but when the little boss calls, the atmosphere changes.
the phone is exchanged between hands, everyone screaming a hey, little boss into the speaker, smiles on their faces from the babe’s infectious giggles. osamu has to fight through the crowd, yell at everyone to get back to work so he can have a chance to speak to his son.
they all relent, knowing all too well with the excited grin on osamu’s face that there’s no bite in his tone. he’s just a father who loves his son and is so clearly loved back.
“here ya go, big boss,” someone says while handing him the phone. the nickname is accepted graciously. he wouldn’t be big boss without a little one.
and the one on the phone loves it because he loves his dad so much. he has no clue what boss means, only knows that when someone says it, he’s picturing his father in an apron and black cap, and smells of green onions and sesame and rice, but that’s him. he’s exactly like dad, just littler.
“hey, little man,” osamu says as he steps back into the alleyway behind his restaurant. he wipes his brow, an exhale escaping him.
and his son laughs hysterically on the line. his employees always get him so riled up and the kid is saying hi repeatedly in multiple octaves, out of breath just like he. the cook can only imagine his kid running through the living room he and atsumu used to play in.
work is hard. it doesn’t get any easier but osamu doesn’t mind if the smallest breaks he can fit in sound like this.
“ya dancing over there?”
“no! i’m killing monsters!”
osamu can’t help but laugh at the gremlin noise, “wow, ya so brave. where’s granny? is she helping ya?”
“nana’s outside.”
of course osamu knew that. or else he wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.
“maybe ya should check on her. there might be monsters outside too.”
there’s a dramatic gasp on the line as if osamu’s said the most outstanding thing in the world. his son is too cute.
“okay!”
“alright. i’ll see ya soon, okay? make sure ya give the phone back to granny, alright?”
“okay!” he’s already running but before he hangs up, the kid makes sure to shout into the phone, “love you, big boss!”
osamu’s heart sings.
“love ya too, little boss.”
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