📝 : A rule you think is important when it comes to role playing:
Common courtesy and common sense. At the end of the day, this is a hobby (unless you're getting paid to do this, in which case, when were you going to tell us all the secret to getting paid for putting up with this site's chaos?) Nobody is obligated to cater to anyone else, nobody is obligated to put anyone else above themselves, and I feel like people forget this ALL the time. Stop being pushy, stop hassling people for replies or attention, stop being rude, stop getting emotional over every little thing and taking everything personally, stop turning what should be an escape from reality into more bullshit and pettiness. There should not be drama. Let's just all vibe, enjoy a common hobby and common fandoms, and be chill.
💘 : Your policy on shipping with your muse(s):
Basically, just don't be pushy. We all have ships we prefer and ships we, honest to god, have no desire for. Just be respectful. If I, or someone else, says no to a ship, no matter what the reason may be, that's it. There shouldn't be any push back, don't take it personally and get all in your feelings, etc.
💞 : Your policy on pre-established relationships with your muse(s):
I very much prefer pre-established over the whole boring, repetitive drag of an introduction stage, but one of my biggest pet peeves is when I feel like I was just tossed into a ' group. ' By this, I mean my muse is lumped in with 4 others of the same muse, and nothing feels . . . personal or unique, ya know? I like to establish things that are special between us. Nicknames and AUs and songs just for them. Something only we can get excited about or vibe over. Folks can ship with as many of the same character as they desire, but I'm sure we can all agree when I say it's BETTER when you're made to feel like you're more than just that muse.
Another blog noticed that Megumis scars are on the same position as Heian!Sukuna. And it's true! By that logic he should have scars under his armpits and on his belly (second arms and second mouth). You drawing it would be interesting
shoutout 2 megumi for making up fr all of yuuji's scars i no longer get to draw
can i just say how much i adore how Nao-chan's gender is treated so casually in skip to loafer
like, as a white cis woman who is also quite tall and havent read the manga i didnt even realize she was trans until this scene in ep2:
and i didnt even have the time to get nervous how they would handle this as they already moved on, ignoring the comments (just like queer people learn to do so) except for Mitsumi's comforting touch (implying she also heard the comments):
and there were no sad words or anything about this either, it was just handled so.... normally. which should not be something worth highlighting, but, well, you know. also on that note, special shoutout to P.A. Works for casting a woman as her voice actor as well.
she's shown being the supportive and lively aunt and like seconds later in this scene she's back to being her usual self again:
oh, no, it's my fatal weakness! it's [checks notes] literally just the bare modicum of temptation! okay you got me.
SO. in order to tell what's wrong with game of thrones you kind of have to have read the books, because the books are the reason the show goes off the rails. i actually blame the showrunners relatively little in proportion to GRRM for how bad the show was (which I'm not gonna rehash here because if you're interested in GOT in any capacity you've already seen that horse flogged to death). people debate when GOT "got bad" in terms of writing, but regardless of when you think it dropped off, everyone agrees the quality declined sharply in season 8, and to a certain extent, season 7. these are the seasons that are more or less entirely spun from whole cloth, because season 7 marks the beginning of what will, if we ever see it, be the Winds of Winter storyline. it's the first part that isn't based on a book by George R.R. Martin. it's said that he gave the showrunners plot outlines, but we don't know how detailed they were, or how much the writers diverged from the blueprint — and honestly, considering the cumulative changes made to the story by that point, some stark divergence would have been required. (there's a reason for this. i'll get there in a sec.)
so far, i'm not saying anything all that original. a lot of people recognized how bad the show got as soon as they ran out of Book to adapt. (I think it's kind of weird that they agreed to make a show about an unfinished series in the first place — did GRRM figure that this was his one shot at a really good HBO adaptation, and forego misgivings about his ability to write two full books in however many years it took to adapt? did he think they would wait for him? did he not care that the series would eventually spoil his magnum opus, which he's spent the last three decades of his life writing? perplexing.) but the more interesting question is why the show got bad once it ran out of Book, because in my mind, that's not a given. a lot of great shows depart from the books they were based on. fanfiction does exactly that, all the time! if you have good writers who understand the characters they're working with, departure means a different story, not a worse one. now, the natural reply would be to say that the writers of GOT just aren't good, or at least aren't good at the things that make for great television, and that's why they needed the books as a structure, but I don't think that's true or fair, either. books and television are very different things. the pacing of a book is totally different from the pacing of a television show, and even an episodic book like ASOIAF is going to need a lot of work before it's remotely watchable as a series. bad writers cannot make great series of television, regardless of how good their source material is. sure, they didn't invent the characters of tyrion lannister and daenerys targaryen, but they sure as hell understood story structure well enough to write a damn compelling season of TV about them!
so but then: what gives? i actually do think it's a problem with the books! the show starts out as very faithful to the early books (namely, A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings) to the point that most plotlines are copied beat-for-beat. the story is constructed a little differently, and it's definitely condensed, but the meat is still there. and not surprisingly, the early books in ASOIAF are very tightly written. for how long they are, you wouldn't expect it, but on every page of those books, the plot is racing. you can practically watch george trying to beat the fucking clock. and he does! useful context here is that he originally thought GOT was going to be a trilogy, and so the scope of most threads in the first book or two would have been much smaller. it also helps that the first three books are in some respects self-contained stories. the first book is a mystery, the second and third are espionage and war dramas — and they're kept tight in order to serve those respective plots.
the trouble begins with A Feast for Crows, and arguably A Storm of Swords, because GRRM starts multiplying plotlines and treating the series as a story, rather than each individual book. he also massively underestimated the number of pages it would take him to get through certain plot beats — an assumption whose foundation is unclear, because from a reader's standpoint, there is a fucke tonne of shit in Feast and Dance that's spurious. I'm not talking about Brienne's Riverlands storyline (which I adore thematically but speaking honestly should have been its own novella, not a part of Feast proper). I'm talking about whole chapters where Tyrion is sitting on his ass in the river, just talking to people. (will I eat crow about this if these pay off in hugely satisfying ways in Winds or Dream? oh, totally. my brothers, i will gorge myself on sweet sweet corvid. i will wear a dunce cap in the square, and gleefully, if these turn out to not have been wastes of time. the fact that i am writing this means i am willing to stake a non-negligible amount of pride on the prediction that that will not happen). I'm talking about scenes where the characters stare at each other and talk idly about things that have already happened while the author describes things we already have seen in excruciating detail. i'm talking about threads that, while forgivable in a different novel, are unforgivable in this one, because you are neglecting your main characters and their story. and don't tell me you think that a day-by-day account tyrion's river cruise is necessary to telling his story, because in the count of monte cristo, the main guy disappears for nine years and comes hurtling back into the story as a vengeful aristocrat! and while time jumps like that don't work for everything, they certainly do work if what you're talking about isn't a major story thread!
now put aside whether or not all these meandering, unconcluded threads are enjoyable to read (as, in fairness, they often are!). think about them as if you're a tv showrunner. these bad boys are your worst nightmare. because while you know the author put them in for a reason, you haven't read the conclusion to the arc, so you don't know what that reason is. and even if the author tells you in broad strokes how things are going to end for any particular character (and this is a big "if," because GRRM's whole style is that he lets plots "develop as he goes," so I'm not actually convinced that he does have endings written out for most major characters), that still doesn't help you get them from point A (meandering storyline) to point B (actual conclusion). oh, and by the way, you have under a year to write this full season of television, while GRRM has been thinking about how to end the books for at least 10. all of this means you have to basically call an audible on whether or not certain arcs are going to pay off, and, if they are, whether they make for good television, and hence are worth writing. and you have to do that for every. single. unfinished. story. in the books.
here's an example: in the books, Quentin Martell goes on a quest to marry Daenerys and gain a dragon. many chapters are spent detailing this quest. spoiler alert: he fails, and he gets charbroiled by dragons. GRRM includes this plot to set up the actions of House Martell in Winds, but the problem is that we don't know what House Martell does in Winds, because (see above) the book DNE. So, although we can reliably bet that the showrunners understand (1) Daenerys is coming to Westeros with her 3 fantasy nukes, and (2) at some point they're gonna have to deal with the invasion of frozombies from Canada, that DOESN'T mean they necessarily know exactly what's going to happen to Dorne, or House Martell. i mean, fuck! we don't even know if Martin knows what's going to happen to Dorne or House Martell, because he's said he's the kind of writer who doesn't set shit out beforehand! so for every "Cersei defaults on millions of dragons in loans from the notorious Bank of Nobody Fucks With Us, assumes this will have no repercussions for her reign or Westerosi politics in general" plotline — which might as well have a big glaring THIS WILL BE IMPORTANT stamp on top of the chapter heading — you have Arianne Martell trying to do a coup/parent trap switcheroo with Myrcella, or Euron the Goffick Antichrist, or Faegon Targaryen and JonCon preparing a Blackfyre restoration, or anything else that might pan out — but might not! And while that uncertainty about what's important to the "overall story" might be a realistic way of depicting human beings in a world ruled by chance and not Destiny, it makes for much better reading than viewing, because Game of Thrones as a fantasy television series was based on the first three books, which are much more traditional "there is a plot and main characters and you can generally tell who they are" kind of book. I see Feast and Dance as a kind of soft reboot for the series in this respect, because they recenter the story around a much larger cast and cast a much broader net in terms of which characters "deserve" narrative attention.
but if you're making a season of television, you can't do that, because you've already set up the basic premise and pacing of your story, and you can't suddenly pivot into a long-form tone poem about the horrors of war. so you have to cut something. but what are you gonna cut? bear in mind that you can't just Forget About Dorne, or the Iron Islands, or the Vale, or the North, or pretty much any region of the story, because it's all interconnected, but to fit in everything from the books would require pacing of the sort that no reasonable audience would ever tolerate. and bear in mind that the later books sprout a lot more of these baby-plots that could go somewhere, but also might end up being secondary or tertiary to the "main story," which, at the end of the day, is about dragons and ice zombies and the rot at the heart of the feudal power system glorified in classical fantasy. that's the story that you as the showrunner absolutely must give them an end to, and that's the story that should be your priority 1.
so you do a hack and slash job, and you mortar over whatever you cut out with storylines that you cook up yourself, but you can't go too far afield, because you still need all the characters more or less in place for the final showdown. so you pinch here and push credulity there, and you do your best to put the characters in more or less the same place they would have been if you kept the original, but on a shorter timeframe. and is it as good as the first seasons? of course not! because the material that you have is not suited to TV like the first seasons are. and not only that, but you are now working with source material that is actively fighting your attempt to constrain a linear and well-paced narrative on it. the text that you're working with changed structure when you weren't looking, and now you have to find some way to shanghai this new sprawling behemoth of a Thing into a television show. oh, and by the way, don't think that the (living) author of the source material will be any help with this, because even though he's got years of experience working in television writing, he doesn't actually know how all of these threads will tie together, which is possibly the reason that the next book has taken over 8 years (now 13 and counting) to write. oh and also, your showrunners are sick of this (in fairness, very difficult) job and they want to go write for star wars instead, so they've refused the extra time the studio offered them for pre-production and pushed through a bunch of first-draft scripts, creating a crunch culture of the type that spawns entirely avoidable mistakes, like, say, some poor set designer leaving a starbucks cup in frame.
anyway, that's what I think went wrong with game of thrones.
Jonelias Week Day 1 (Which is definitely today I swear), for the prompt "No Powers AU"
This one... maybe got away from me. This is actually only the first half of what I've written so far, and probably the first third overall! I do plan to post this to Ao3 at some point (although I suspect I'll need to do a lengthy round of editing first lmao). It's some very self-indulgent nonsense, which is a lot of what I write, but now it's getting put in the main tags of a ship during said ship's event week. So. It may also be a little bit "aromantic dude tries to figure out what having a crush is supposed to be like." Also a lot of "dude who took Principals of Accounting once pretending it knows what office work is like." Anyway, quick warning before we begin, and the rest will be under the read-more:
Stalking (played for laughs) for most of the fic.
Just. A weird amount of obsession.
Ok that should be it I think. Fic under the cut.
Jon's new boss was, quite possibly, the most boring man in the world. He wore the same outfit every day (pale dress shirt with dark unpatterned tie and gray slacks and matching suit jacket). The only personal effect in his entire office was a potted plant on the windowsill (some sort of succulent, and definitely fake). He always arrived to work exactly half an hour early and left exactly half an hour late. The only hobby he appeared to show any interest in was scheduling, which he seemed to find both deeply engaging and remarkably irritating. In fact, he was apparently so opposed to the idea of mixing his work with his personal life that he might as well not have existed beyond the walls of their office. Jon had never been more fascinated by anyone else in his entire life.
It stared with the transfer to the accounting department. Elias had met with him personally to get him acclimated to his new role. He had been blandly polite, and blandly handsome, and Jon had stopped listening to him about five minutes into their conversation. It was probably bad form, really. The software Elias was droning on and on about sounded like it was about to become a central feature of his days. He really should've been paying attention to it. Instead, he pretended to make eye contact while zeroing in on the top of Bouchard's forehead (a very useful trick, really) and became inordinately focused on the small lock of hair that had fallen across it. It was terribly distracting, and Jon had wondered how he hadn't noticed it. And then he wondered how it had come to be there. And then he had built up an entire story involving a murder, an illicit affair with the assistant director of marketing, and the potted succulent. And then he had noticed Bouchard eying him with what could've been suspicion or amusement or irritation or nothing whatsoever, and had been forced to rapidly pretend to care about their company's bad debt expense policy.
Bouchard had indulged him, and had spoken with the calm authority of someone who knew what they were talking about, and had even managed to avoid being overtly condescending (a feat forever out of Jon's reach). At the end he had shaken Jon's hand (with a nice, firm grip), and had told him "I'm looking forward to working with you, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful member of our team."
Jon had left that meeting with a mind shrouded in a fog of boredom and a faint sensation of warmth which he decided was best attributed to curiosity and left otherwise unexamined.
Over the next few weeks, Jon had tried to subtly inquire into Bouchard's life. At the time, he had been naively under the impression that surely he must have let slip something about his life; some odd quirk or funny story or harmless bit of information which could justify Jon's blooming curiosity. Unfortunately;
"He lives in Chelsea, I'm pretty sure?" (Sasha)
"He's currently in a meeting. Honestly Jon, you'll be better off just sending an email. Now can I please get back to work?" (Rosie, probably lying about the meeting)
"He actually lives here in the office. Set up a cozy little home away from home in one of the storage closets and sneaks out at night to raid the canteen. And he's having an affair with the assistant director of marketing." (Tim, definitely lying (but maybe a mind reader? Also, full of brilliant ideas for places Jon could maybe set up a cot whenever he needs to stay overnight))
Clearly, Jon would have to take matters into his own hands if he wanted answers. That was fine. It could be his own private little research project.
Jon liked to think that the entire thing had actually been quite reasonable, and that he had acted within the bounds of their pre-established relationship as employee and supervisor. Surely any rational person had to realize that nobody could possibly be that uninteresting. Anyone would be curious as to what dark secrets Bouchard his behind his well-tailored suits and polite, professional demeanor.
… perhaps most rational persons would not meticulously record the movements, behavior, and daily appearance of their colleague in a discreet notebook (with annotations, color-coding, and graphs where appropriate), but Jon had always prided himself on his dedication to research and understanding.
So far Jon had collected frustratingly little data. If Bouchard was hiding anything, it wasn't apparent from his schedule (see pages 8-13, figure 2.b), his eating habits (see page 22), or his lone plant (see page five, figure 1.c). His breaks did seem specially timed to avoid other people (and he appeared not to engage in many social behaviors generally), but he never acted irritated or otherwise unhappy to encounter one of his subordinates, so Jon wasn't entirely sure if it was deliberate avoidance or simple coincidence. Really, the only truly odd thing about him was his inexplicable interest in Jon.
That very morning, for example, Bouchard had stopped by his cubicle for a fifteen minute discussion on the upcoming Annual Team Luncheon, an event Jon had never attended before (due to an annual migraine which coincidentally always happened to occur on the exact date of the luncheon), which Jon did not plan to attend, and which honestly sounded like some sort of violation of the Geneva Convention. The topic itself was not especially odd (small talk was an archaic tradition which had stubbornly clung on in every workplace Jon had ever set foot in), but Bouchard's low propensity for inter-office socialization combined with the fact that he had both chosen Jon specifically as his conversational partner was… highly suspicious. Most people who encountered Jon inevitably concluded that he was more effort than he was worth (an attitude Jon mostly appreciated).
And of course, there had also been their interaction two days ago, when Elias had paused briefly to inquire as to whether Jon would be staying late, and what he was working on, and if he might perhaps consider heading home soon because there was only so much overtime they could pay him. Or on Friday, when he had managed to hold two separate conversations with Jon where very little was said. Honestly, Jon somewhat suspected that Elias had spoken to him more in the past few weeks than he had spoken to any of their colleagues for the entire time Jon had been there to observe him.
Most of Jon's notes were now dedicated to their interactions. From his cot in the unused storage room (which was indeed a good place to stay overnight, thank you Tim), he could jot down everything he recalled about their interaction; it had begun at 8:32 and had concluded at 8:47; the weather was warm and slightly humid, although the office interior remained at a comfortable 21 °C. Bouchard's shirt had been a nice, cool gray, which complemented the silver of his eyes. Jon (who had been busy digging for his favorite pen (the ink was a lovely deep green color, and it was usually kept on the left side of the top desk drawer, and Jon had no idea where else it could have possibly gone)) had settled on "irritation" as his tone, which Bouchard either had not noticed or had not cared enough to acknowledge. He had easily dominated the conversation, and Jon could admit in the sanctity of his research journal that his voice had been soothing enough to cool away some of Jon's annoyance. He wrote his conclusion: Subject behaved near-identically in tone, posture, body language, and apparent mood as he has in all previous communications. Subject displayed no strong thoughts or opinions on subject of discussion nor conversational partner. Interaction was pleasant but slightly dull, no new information discovered.
It was almost exactly the same as every previous conclusion. Jon had to admit, so many months with so little progress was… discouraging.
He shifted on the narrow mattress and winced when his movements aggravated his backache (which was surely unrelated to his frequent occupancy of the cot). It was becoming more and more apparent that the only possible solution was to do some actual, direct investigation.
His first idea (break into Bouchard's office) seemed a tad far (also, he didn't know how to pick locks). His second idea (follow him home) seemed a stretch further than the previous one, and was perhaps best saved as a last resort. His third idea (something something computers? (perhaps "idea" was a bit generous)) would almost certainly require Sasha, who would have questions Jon couldn't answer. He flipped idly through his notes, half-skimming, half-thinking. It was only when his gaze landed on figure 2.b, Weekly Schedule of E. Bouchard, that he actually came up with something reasonable. Something actionable.
my dying pentablet is killing me, but I decided that this time I want to try and get myself a cool proper tablet to get better position for my wrist (sometimes in annoyingly aches >_>) and set up proper working space
so!
My commissions, all the types, are open again! I'll be grateful for your support!
For my main types you can see the pinned post. (here) If you don't see something you want, we can figure it out!
I do sfw and nsfw stuff, mostly focused on world of darkness and BG3 now, but happy to draw anything~
mail- [email protected]
"Administratively, too, [...] queens were considered the legal lords of their landholdings. [...] Grants noted that the queen's officials had administrative autonomy without being subject to the king or anyone else, and evidence of the same assumption can be gleaned from court rolls that were recorded with headings indicating the lord of the manor whose court proceedings were being enrolled. As an example, some court rolls for the manor of Haveringatte-Bower specified that it was the court of [Margaret of Anjou] that was in session, while later rolls recorded Elizabeth Woodville as the lord of the manor court."
-Michele Seah, 'My Lady Queen, the Lord of the Manor': The Economic Roles of Late Medieval Queens", Parergon, Volume 37, Number 2, 2020.
i love how you write for gojo i would die for you...... with gojo though, how would you describe his personality/character??? vv curious about what you think <3
🥺🥺🥺 ANONNNN i would die for you too btw….. i’m so happy you like my gojo!!!!
hmmmmm it’s a hard question to answer since his character is so complex….. but my general take is that he has three layers to him!! :3 you’d think he’s just a silly guy at first glance, but when you peel back that layer you catch a glimpse of the sadness and isolation beneath. his inherent air of tragedy <33 i also like to include gojo’s darker side here — like, the ’cold logic’ he sometimes has, his more feral side, etc. basically, he’s not as lighthearted as he seems!! and i think understanding his particular isolation is really important to understanding him overall.
the third and final layer (and also the most important imo) is his kindness <33 this is the one i think the fandom might be most divided on? but also not really… gojo isn’t a saint by any means, but he’s an all around good guy. i don’t see him as being morally dark, and i also don’t see him being an asshole. or a cheater, or a player, or a yandere, etcetcetc — they’re all popular depictions of his character that i respect but just can’t get behind myself!! :> gojo is a nice guy at his core, and that’s definitely something i try to emphasise while writing him… he has an air of maturity to him that only slips out when it really counts, but it’s his most charming trait to me!!
About: The flashback ends- but what will you do next?
Part I II -> Next Part
"You're not getting married."
Osamu's sharp remark did not have the intended effect. Both of you were still clinging to each other, acting all lovey-dovey.
"Samuu, you don't understand. She's my soulmate. I love her." Osamu's eyes almost popped out of their sockets while he kept watching how you two clung to each other and smiled like idiots, your hand on his cheek after he had said these words.
"You don't even know her. And stop touching her like that in public."
Atsumu's hands started wandering on your back, his fingertips teasing the bare skin on your back much to your delight - but to Osamu's horror.
"I don't mind - but who are you?" You turned towards him, and he paused for a second. You were beautiful, that much was certain. Shiny eyes, glossy lips, and a dress that looked like it had been made for you - but he quickly discarded every thought about your looks when he knew that he needed to stop this nonsense.
"I'm Osamu Miya. His brother."
"Oh." Your eyes widened as you took in his appearance, probably only then realizing how similar he looked to the man whose lap you were currently sitting on.
"Samu, we gotta go. The barkeeper told us that there's a priest next to this club."
"You're not getting married."
No matter how many times he repeated the sentence, it seemed like Atsumu was unable to understand.
xxxxxx
"And then you convinced me to get your car to drive us home. Wouldn't stop bickerin' about how it's expensive and designer and about how it costs more than Onigiri Miya will ever make. I'll definitely kick your ass for that."
A muscle under Osamu's eye twitches when he mentions the comment, and you have to hold back a snort at this. He's kind of cute when he's angry.
"And then?"
"You were gone. Found ya at the church, but it was too late. You idiots already signed the contract."
You slowly step back until your knees reach the bed, and you heavily sink down on it. It feels like he's telling you a story right out of a movie, not something that has happened just a few hours ago, the whole thing still too absurd and unreal.
"Can we redeem it?" You look at Osamu, like he's the only one that can save you now, and he somehow actually is. You still have hope that you can get out of this without negatively impacting the rest of your life.
"I've talked to our lawyer. It's a waterproof contract. Very surprising because the church was more than just a bit shady. You're both bound for a year until ya can file for divorce." His words feel like a death sentence, and you find yourself at a loss for words. You gulp at his words, blinking a few times to suppress your tears. You're an idiot—an idiot for getting in a situation like this.
It's silent.
You don't dare to look at either of them, your gaze only focused on the phone in your hands, and every passing second makes you feel even more uncomfortable, until you can't stand the silence anymore.
"I'll get going."
You stiffly get on your feet, your movements robotic and lifeless while you make an attempt to leave, but you're quick to get stopped by Atsumu before you can even make more than getting up. "Wait- I- I don't even have yer number!"
"Oh." You pause, standing there for a few moments while you watch Atsumu getting closer to you, until there is not much space left between the two of you when he stands right in front of you. "Hey- are you okay?" Concern laces his voice while he looks down at you, and you manage to nod with a forced smile. "Peachy."
Osamu snorts at your comment and shakes his head, a movement that you barely see in the corner of your eyes. He probably feels guilty for the whole situation too, the dark cicles under his eyes similar to Atsumu's, certainly because he tried to find a solution for this and did not sleep at all during the night. "People who say 'peachy' are anything but fine."
"Hey, look at me." Atsumu ignores his brother's comment and brings his hand to your cheek. You're startled but allow him to turn your face upwards until your eyes lock. "I'm not letting ya go when ya can't even walk properly. You'll eat something, then you'll take a nice hot shower and get in some clean clothes and then I'll bring ya home. That alright with you?" There is something about the way he softly states the words that sends a comforting wave of warmth through your body, and you find yourself nodding and trusting him.
"Hmm. Good girl. Now just eat the rest of the fries while Samu gets ya some clothes. Right, Samu?" Atsumu breaks the eye contact with you to look sharply at Osamu, who only sighs and nods. "I saw a souvenir shop at the lobby. Better than nothin'." You now look at Atsumu's side-profile, admiring his sharp jaw line, unable to do something else but wondering if there is even one bad angle on this perfect man, while Osamu leaves the room with another deep sigh.
"Shouldn't I have given him some money?" You take a deep breath and wipe your hands on your dress, noticing how clammy they got. Probably a side-effect of the nervousness.
Atsumu snorts and returns his gaze to you, an amused smile on his lips. "That serves him right. He always brags about how much he makes with his stupid restaurant." Atsumu looks so similar to Osamu when he rolls his eyes; it's almost comical. "Don't tell him I said that, but he really makes the best food ever. I'll take ya there and show you."
You hum approvingly, feeling somewhat a tingle run down your spine at the prospect of him taking you out for dinner but try to ignore it. "C'mon. Eat the rest of the fries. I saw how ya inhaled them. You can have mine too." He grins, something that makes him seem absolutely adorable, and you find yourself smiling back at him, a warm feeling running through your body.
"I'm not hungry anymore. I'll take a shower then?" You questioningly raise your brows, and he nods. "Yeah, of course. When Samu comes back, I'll put the clothes in front of the bathroom."
Thank you," you raise your hand as if to pat his shoulder, but you halt the movement just before reaching him. You shouldn't touch him. Technically, you don't even know him. His gaze flickers to your hand, and he appears to consider taking it. However, he quickly steps to the side, giving you some space to move to the bathroom.
Without looking back at him, you close the bathroom door, take a deep breath, and glance at the phone in your hand. You scroll until you find the picture of a bright-haired person—