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#yes im still doing this
wannaeatramyeon · 8 months
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Ryuhei Kuroda x Reader: Japanese 101
G/N. Ryuhei teaches you some japanese.
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You cup your mouth with both hands, take a deep breath and shout, "Kutabare!" (Fuck you!)
A few coworkers turn to you in shock, including the one whose attention you were aiming for.
Ryuhei spins around, eyes lighting up and copies your motion. "Shinee!" (Die!)
Internally flipping through your tiny repertoire of Japanese, it takes you a moment before understanding dawns and you cackle.
It leaves you both with a smile for the rest of the day.
.
.
You repeat the word after him, testing it out for the first time, "Chinchin." (Dick) and then put your own spin on it:
"I hate Eugene, he's a chinchin."
It doesn't really work but it makes Ryuhei laugh anyway.
.
.
Pointing to a stray cat, you exclaim, "Kawaii!" (Cute!)
Ryuhei huffs at your childishness. You're pretty cute too.
.
.
"Hey," you whisper to the blonde seated next to you, "teach me something new."
Face hidden behind his mask, he tilts his head at you as if to say not now.
"Please, before my brain falls asleep."
Ryuhei turns back to Eugene droning on. Something about quarterly growth and being on target, then leans close and mutters, "Kuso kurae."
You jot it down phonetically at the top of your notepad, "Meaning?"
"Eat shit."
You muffle your giggles just in time.
.
.
"Kuso kurae!" you repeat at Ryuhei the next day.
Grinning hard, he gives you a nod and fist pump, "Ganbatte!" (Do your best!)
.
.
In the huskiest, most sensual voice you can muster up, you breathe into his ear, "Iku~" (I'm coming~)
Shit.
Ryuhei's head swims.
Maybe he shouldn't have taught you that one.
.
.
Smiling wide, and holding up the phone to his face, "Baka!" (Idiot!)
Steadying your hand with his, Ryuhei takes a small step back to focus on what you're showing him. Ah, it's a candid photo of him taken this morning, right after you called his name and thrusted the lens in his face.
He looks very handsome, even if he says so himself.
The expression that you captured though, he's not sure what to make of it. Is that what his face is like when he looks at you? He looks vulnerable, exposed. More than he has been in a long time.
"Baka!" you repeat again, like a kid learning a new word - and he supposes, that it is new and novel for you.
"Baka," he agrees, because he does feel like one where you're concerned.
.
.
"Daisuki da." Ryuhei whispers into your ear. Quiet, but not quiet enough as Kenta, sitting on his other side, startles at his words.
You scribble the sounds on your notepad, along with another message 'What does that mean?' then give him a gentle prod with your pen.
Ryuhei's eyes flicker to the paper but he doesn't respond.
"What does it mean?" You say aloud this time, risking drawing the ire of Eugene. Ryuhei gives you a shrug and you click your tongue.
"Fine, I'll just look it up later myself," you hiss, petulant and pouting. "Bakayaro," (Bastard) you add for good measure.
He doesn't react, on the surface. Instead, below the boardroom table, he aims his hand towards you then it springs forward, quick as a dart, peevish fingers pinching at your waist and you squeal.
The entire room turns towards you.
"Sorry," you mutter, face burning red.
.
.
You look it up later that night and feel a different warmth on your face. Growing to the tips of your ears, all the way down to your toes.
Daisuki da.
(I really like you.)
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edwinas · 2 years
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Words Bubble Up Like Soda Pop (2021) Dir. Kyohei Ishiguro | insp
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bubblelesscoke · 2 years
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  Omen likes art.
  More specifically, Omen likes to be the one making the art.
   That's no news for anyone. He likes drawing, he likes writing stories, he likes creating... He is constantly coming up with new ideas and concepts. His mind is basically a dream machine and his hands are his tools to bring those dreams to life.
  He also likes Never. He actually loves Never. Sure, they've had their rough patches here and there, and sometimes Never can be a bit too much, but Omen loves them regardless.
  He loves Never so much he's almost always thinking about them. During art history class, he doodles their face in his notebook while taking notes. When he's away from Never, he can't stop thinking about them, their laugh, their face... When he's sad or tired or overwhelmed, he knows Never will help him through and be there for him, in their own way.
  The point is, Never is an amazing partner and Omen wants to show his appreciation for them. Like, really show it. Not just the little compliments he whispers to them during long nights, nor the little kisses he places along their neck early in the sleepy morning.
  (Never always calls him a sap and insists that he does more than enough for them. Omen just ignores them and keeps showing his love in his small, sweet ways.)
  And then an assignment for one of his art college classes comes in, and he's figured it out.
  The assignment is nothing too special. Make a portrait of someone, anyone.
  Of course, there's more to it, the assignment has requirements. The size of the portrait, the method, the materials used, but none of that matters to Omen, because this is another chance to show Never how much he loves them.
  And so, it begins.
  Of course, Omen is not just going to ask Never to pose for him for the portrait. They definitely would if he asked them to, but this was a surprise, so that option was off the table. Omen would have to do with the next best thing, which were pictures.
  And Omen happens to have a lot of pictures of Never.
  Like, a lot.
  He can't help it, they're just so pretty.
  Back to the point, Omen is scrolling through his gallery, looking at all of their pictures, and thinking. He doesn't want to recreate a picture that already exists. He wants to make something up, to imagine something beautiful all on his own.
  Then, after some days of deep thinking and different sketches, he gets the perfect idea.
  He works on it day and night, in their office, and whenever Never asks him what he's doing, he refuses to show them, saying that it isn't finished or that he's shy about it.
  ( "C'mon, I bet it looks awesome!"     "No it doesn't! Just, stop prying!")
  He hands it in when it's time, and a few days later the teacher gives the paintings back to everyone.
  (Omen had not only gotten an A+, but he also got a little post-it note attached saying 'Good job! This painting is gorgeous!!' and a little smiley face.)
  And so, it was time for the surprise.
  Omen gets home and makes sure Never isn't around, then quickly gets to work. He prepared the pizza dough while the oven was preheating, then added everything else. Knowing all the toppings Never likes by heart, he adds them to one of the pizzas, while he puts the stuff he likes to the other. He stuffs them in the oven and sets the table. He cleans their living room and he makes sure everything looks OK.
  When Never gets home, tired and hungry, the smell of pizza almost makes them want to cry. They quickly take off their shoes and go drop their messenger bag inside their office, taking off their coat on the way to their bedroom where they see Omen sitting on the bed, reading some advanced sigils book, glasses on. He quickly looks up at them as sets the book down.
  "Hey, how was your day?" He asks in a soft, warm voice, and dear God Never couldn't be more in love with this man.
  "It was fine, tiring. Did you get the pizza for tonight already?" They say, hanging the coat behind their bedroom door.
  "Actually, I'm making it from scratch. Kinda wanted to treat you and I know you like how I do it, so I thought 'Why not?'. Anyway, it's still going to take a while until I have to take it out of the oven, so you can just shower and put on something more comfortable."
  With the way Never was looking at him, one would think that Omen had just gifted them the universe. They look so so tired, yet so so grateful.
  "Oh, uhm... OK, thanks. Are you sure you don't need any help?"
  "Hundred percent. Go shower and relax, and then later we can talk about our days."
  Never nods slowly, grabbing one of Omen's old T-shirts and some sweatpants, along with some underwear, and walking to the bathroom.
  Never gets out of the shower and instead of going to their bedroom, they go to the kitchen, just in time to see Omen pulling the pizzas out of the oven. They wait until he sets the food down to wrap their arms around his waist and nuzzle the back of his neck, feeling all fuzzy inside.
  "That smells really good." They mumble against his neck, wanting attention. Omen turns around and wraps his own arms around them, their head now against his chest.
  "Thanks, darling. Go sit down, I'll bring the pizzas over."
  They eat their dinner while talking, telling each other about their day. Turns out, the Sanctuary needed Never to take a bunch of stuff to a lot of different places, so they had to teleport a lot and ended up exhausted.
  They finish dinner, and before Never can get up, Omen speaks up.
  "By the way, I kind of have a surprise for you..."
  Never looks at him for a couple of seconds, then watches as he grabs something from behind his chair.
  (How the hell had they not noticed there was something back there?)
  Omen hands it over, and Never holds it carefully. It's a big, rectangular thing wrapped in wrapping paper. It's a bit light so Never starts to think what could it be.
  "Is this the thing you absolutely forbid me from seeing?"
  Omen smiles knowingly as he rests his head on top of his hands, "Maybe."
  Never looks at him for a second before they start tearing off the paper, careful not to break the thing inside. Once it is completely uncovered, Never stares at it, astonished.
  It is, indeed, a painting, as Never thought it was. But that isn't the surprise, no.
  The surprise is the fact that the person in the painting is none other than Never themself.
  A beautiful painting of Never, laying in bed, hair messy, a cocky smile on their face and hooded eyes, light blush covering their cheeks.
  Not only is the painting gorgeous, with the pallette being different hues of pinks and purples and greys, with some green and yellow here or there, and some brown for hair, but it is also extremely detailed. The light freckles they have on the bridge of their nose are there, and Never is sure Omen must have had to look at a bunch of pictures of them to make sure he got them all in the right place.
  For a few moments, Never doesn't speak. They're too busy staring at themself. Omen looks at them expectantly, waiting for a reaction.
  That reaction is Never jumping from their seat and hurrying to hug Omen tightly, eyes wet from emotion. Omen just hugs them back, chuckling lightly.
  "I'm guessing you liked it?" he asks teasingly. Never nods quickly against his shoulder and starts to press kisses there, mumbling 'IloveyouIloveyouIliveyou' under their breath.
  Then they look up and kiss Omen like he's going to die tomorrow, and Omen kisses back just as enthusiasticly. All the love and adoration they feel for each other is transmitted with a simple kiss.
  (The painting hangs in their living room, near the TV. It is beautiful and Never wants everyone who comes over to see it.
  Omen is just happy they liked it so much, and insists that Never doesn't need to do anything back, that they already do enough.
  Never promptly ignores that.)  
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inkskinned · 9 months
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because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.
you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.
you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.
don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.
if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.
you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:
how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!
aren't you happy yet?
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cozylittleartblog · 1 year
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not that we didn't already Know belos was full of shit, but it's even funnier knowing the titan was still alive the whole time and probably judging him
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stil-lindigo · 9 months
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scorched earth.
a comic about a princess who died in a fire.
(this is a sequel to bite of winter, a comic about Snow and what became of her after her death.)
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--
all my other comics
store
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ochibrochi · 2 months
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i'm surprised on how quickly i warmed up to damian's 2021 redesign, but i wish they kept his combat boots! i feel like they're just as iconic as his hood-cape when it comes to his signature look 💔
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machinerot · 3 months
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axoqiii · 1 month
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🍁 i bring to u life series nitw au and a gem doodle
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wasyago · 11 months
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the brainrot won
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beaulesbian · 6 months
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gotta love that the anime added some frames when the strawhats were escaping from the marines at the end of enies lobby, and very injured luffy still wanting to help and fight
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and they just use him to repel the incoming attack, same as in the manga asdksffd
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monster trio being idiots again (affectionate) ✌️
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inkskinned · 3 months
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crows use tools and like to slide down snowy hills. today we saw a goose with a hurt foot who was kept safe by his flock - before taking off, they waited for him to catch up. there are colors only butterflies see. reindeer are matriarchical. cows have best friends and 4 stomachs and like jazz music. i watched a video recently of an octopus making himself a door out of a coconut shell.
i am a little soft, okay. but sometimes i can't talk either. the world is like fractal light to me, and passes through my skin in tendrils. i feel certain small things like a catapult; i skirt around the big things and somehow arrive in crisis without ever realizing i'm in pain.
in 5th grade we read The Curious Incident of the Dog In The Night-time, which is about a young autistic boy. it is how they introduced us to empathy about neurotypes, which was well-timed: around 10 years old was when i started having my life fully ruined by symptoms. people started noticing.
i wonder if birds can tell if another bird is odd. like the phrase odd duck. i have to believe that all odd ducks are still very much loved by the other normal ducks. i have to believe that, or i will cry.
i remember my 5th grade teacher holding the curious incident up, dazzled by the language written by someone who is neurotypical. my teacher said: "sometimes i want to cut open their mind to know exactly how autistics are thinking. it's just so different! they must see the world so strangely!" later, at 22, in my education classes, we were taught to say a person with autism or a person on the spectrum or neurodivergent. i actually personally kind of like person-first language - it implies the other person is trying to protect me from myself. i know they had to teach themselves that pattern of speech, is all, and it shows they're at least trying. and i was a person first, even if i wasn't good at it.
plants learn information. they must encode data somehow, but where would they store it? when you cut open a sapling, you cannot find the how they think - if they "think" at all. they learn, but do not think. i want to paint that process - i think it would be mostly purple and blue.
the book was not about me, it was about a young boy. his life was patterned into a different set of categories. he did not cry about the tag on his shirt. i remember reading it and saying to myself: i am wrong, and broken, but it isn't in this way. something else is wrong with me instead. later, in that same person-first education class, my teacher would bring up the curious incident and mention that it is now widely panned as being inaccurate and stereotypical. she frowned and said we might not know how a person with autism thinks, but it is unlikely to be expressed in that way. this book was written with the best intentions by a special-ed teacher, but there's some debate as to if somebody who was on the spectrum would be even able to write something like this.
we might not understand it, but crows and ravens have developed their own language. this is also true of whales, dolphins, and many other species. i do not know how a crow thinks, but we do know they can problem solve. (is "thinking" equal to "problem solving"? or is "thinking" data processing? data management?) i do not know how my dog thinks, either, but we "talk" all the same - i know what he is asking for, even if he only asks once.
i am not a dolphin or reindeer or a dog in the nighttime, but i am an odd duck. in the ugly duckling, she grows up and comes home and is beautiful and finds her soulmate. all that ugliness she experienced lives in downy feathers inside of her, staining everything a muted grey. she is beautiful eventually, though, so she is loved. they do not want to cut her open to see how she thinks.
a while ago i got into an argument with a classmate about that weird sia music video about autism. my classmate said she thought it was good to raise awareness. i told her they should have just hired someone else to do it. she said it's not fair to an autistic person to expect them to be able to handle that kind of a thing.
today i saw a goose, and he was limping. i want to be loved like a flock loves a wounded creature: the phrase taken under a wing. which is to say i have always known i am not normal. desperate, mewling - i want to be loved beyond words.
loved beyond thinking.
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psychopathic-moves · 1 year
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Going back & moving forward
(Prints)
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Ok we all went crazy about the 'do it again' but you know what? What if when Aziraphale finally confesses his feelings Crowley cant help but whisper
'Say it again'
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kogglyuffs · 3 months
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the ultimate cookie show
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nosfelixculpa · 4 months
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You think I follow you around because I like you? I'm not worried at all about you. What is there to worry about for you? I'm the one who should be worried. But do you know why I come to see you? Jungkook mumbled on about things which were all incomprehensible. It's because I like your music. When I listen to your music, I get all teared up. Me, I get all teary. I feel like dying about a dozen times a day. But when I listen to your music, I want to live. YOONGI 12 MAY YEAR 22 HYYH; THE NOTES
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