#but they were a little... embarrassed

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 10: Lessons in Larceny Only a mischievous kitsune could turn a lockpicking lesson into an innuendo fest.

Mitsuhide x OC; Hideyoshi x MC (Mai)

All Chapters Archived on Ao3 

Logline - With Mai, Hideyoshi, and Aki missing, Mitsuhide and Katsuko reluctantly team up. Disguised as a merchant and his concubine, can they outsmart the man known as the God of Deceit?

“What do you think of my gift?” Mitsuhide gestured to his former personal quarters, which now sported a few feminine touches – a low table filled with cosmetics, a rack displaying the recently purchased peach kimono, and a delicate tapestry.

What it did not contain - a window.

With Sho next to me, oohing and aahing over the surprise gift, I could not tell him exactly what I thought about his room switching gambit. “I am overwhelmed, Master Kyubei.”

“After all, with your new wardrobe arriving soon, I believe you should have more space.” He paused and then his Kyubei disguise was marred by a smile that was pure Mitsuhide tease. “Perhaps some might say I’m spoiling you, but this is what you deserve.”

More space… ha!

The new room did not appear any larger than the previous one. In fact, it seemed smaller, with the smell of sandalwood and cinnamon pervading every corner. It would be like sharing a room with his ghost – or astral projection (not that I believed something like that was possible, although if it had been possible, I completely believe Mitsuhide could and would practice it). Crowded in, with no means of escape. Now that Mitsuhide slept directly under my old window, in the room closest to the stairway, I would not be able to sneak out in the night without waking him up.

The curtailed freedom on my end resulted in curtailed conversation for him, as I gave him the silent treatment for a few days, and our meals devolved into me glaring at him while he devoured a series of increasingly disgusting smelling meals.

(It’s possible that he didn’t consider eating in uncomfortable silence a loss).

Whatever he did while the sun was up, I had no idea. While I suffered days of beauty regimens (apparently my skin needed ‘help’ and my hands were ‘hopeless’) under the guidance of sweet but uninteresting Sho, he would, in that long dark wig, disappear in the morning and not reappear until it was time for Sho to return to the house she shared with her mother and siblings. I couldn’t leave the house with her, in case she was a spy for Shojumaru, nor could I leave her alone for the same reason.

Needless to say, the whole beauty routine was mind-numbingly dull. I had never enjoyed the twenty-first century version, and the Sengoku stuff was even worse. Thankfully, the merchant class that I would be moving about in didn’t conform to the aristocratic customs of shaving off their eyebrows and blackening their teeth.

So when after five days of repetitive afternoons and silent evenings, the first of my outfits was delivered, I was nearly tempted to kiss it in relief, even though it was pale pink. At least it meant that Mitsuhide would take me out.

Somewhere.

Anywhere…

“…the meeting of the Kaigoshu?” I was impressed in spite of myself. “How did you manage to get an invitation to that?” Even Francisco, who had been based in Sakai for several years, hadn’t managed to break through that barrier (or maybe he had, but didn’t realize what it was).

“Another spice merchant owes me a lot of money.” That was all he had to say about the matter. Gambling was illegal, so I was left to wonder what the spice merchant had done to get in Mitsuhide’s debt. Potentially that fell into the ‘you don’t want to know’ category.

“And you’re permitted to bring me?” Sounded fishy. I doubted that anyone else would bring a courtesan to what amounted to a city council meeting.

“I am certain you’re aware of the concept ‘it is better to ask for forgiveness than it is to ask for permission.’” It was the night prior to the meeting, and rather than go back to my room to sulk, I had allowed my curiosity to get the better of me and had followed Mitsuhide into his office. “In my observations, it appears to be your primary mode of operation.”

“I’m familiar.” I could not deny that I’d found myself asking for forgiveness a lot.

From the look he gave me, Mitsuhide had expected that answer. “Not that it would make any difference in this particular situation, for Kyubei is not the type to ask for either permission or forgiveness.”

Yeah. I’d figured. “Do you have a particular plan? Or is this simply for reconnaissance?” Maybe he already had a theory to test out. Who knows? I wasn’t in the loop.

“Oh my, I see you’re talking to me again. Did we get bored with the silent treatment?” He didn’t look at me when he asked, preferring instead to unroll a scroll of paper, and read (or pretend to read) it.

“I’m talking to a co-conspirator about a mission. As soon as we get those details figured out, then you will become invisible to me once again.” Well, he probably hadn’t been invisible since birth, but I would give it my best shot. “So? Plan? Generalized snooping?”

He put down the scroll and sighed – theatrically, so I am sure he didn’t mean it. “If you can wander amongst the Portuguese merchants and listen to their conversations, that will allow me to concentrate on the Japanese ones.” He didn’t mention Shojumaru specifically, but I figured the man had to be at the top of our suspect list.

Ok. Cool. Was that so difficult to tell me? “And if it looks like you’ve gotten into trouble, I should create a diversion so we don’t have to fight our way out? Not that I couldn’t fight if you need me to.”

“Dear me, are you questioning my competence? I will not get into trouble.” He picked up the scroll again and I am certain he was just using it to shield himself from me.

I took no offense. I was just happy that I was finally going to be permitted to do something. Well. Tomorrow I would be doing something. Tonight… I couldn’t face another night staring at the windowless walls of my new room.

It wasn’t until my third circuit of the office that I realized I was pacing.

Mitsuhide glanced up and distracted me from my walkabout. “Is there a reason for your prowling? One would have thought that you went through here thoroughly the other night.”

“The other night I was looking for something in particular.” I paused in front of a neat display of musical instruments – a flute, a koto, and a biwa – arranged neatly among some Noh masks – had these, like the furniture and décor, belonged to the previous tenant? They looked too exquisite to belong to whomever had painted the walls red and black, and owned that gruesome screen in my former bedroom. Something told me that these were Mitsuhide’s, although I couldn’t back that up with any evidence. Just… a feeling. “Now, I’m just looking.”

He finally put the scroll down. “Any competent spy ought to be able to perform both at the same time.” He motioned me over to his desk, opened the drawer for like… three seconds… and then slammed it shut again. “What is in the drawer, brat?”

Oh.

A game.

A puzzle game.

I love this stuff. “A pot of ink, a spare brush, three locks – probably Chinese in origin, a roll of paper, and not my letter, which you really should return to me.”

He raised one eyebrow. Ok now you’re just rubbing it in that you can do that and I can’t. Then he opened the drawer again and peered inside. “You missed four items.” He pulled them out of the drawer as he named them. “A small clump of dust… a crumb of… mm… is that dried rice?” He popped it in his mouth and bit down on it (and… ew). “Still unknown. And a set of lock picks.” He held up a few metal rods of varying lengths and thickness.

Oooh. Lock picks. That was interesting. I wondered if he could show me how to…

He derailed my thought by asking, “what does this combination of items tell you?”

“That the desk is commonly used by a thief who writes a lot of letters and rarely dusts? Particularly a correspondence thief who also has a cast iron stomach.” I sent him a look of contrived innocence along with the snark.

“Consider the order of the items in the drawer. The placement shows that the locks were used more recently than the paper.” He laid them next to each other on the desk. They were all rectangular shaped padlocks, one with kanji characters written across it, although I suspected it was Chinese, not Japanese, simply because most locks in this era were made in China. “You do appear to be interested in these – considering brushing up on your burglary skills?”

Hey, a girl’s gotta have a parachute.

“Aki says no knowledge is ever wasted.” Show me. Show me. Show me.

The eyebrow went up again. It was getting a workout tonight. “Yes… you are indeed uncharacteristically fixated on these. Dare I suggest a lesson in larceny?”

I mimicked his bored tone. “Why yes, I believe I would find that a pleasant interlude.”

Aaaand of course he took my wording and ran with it. “Oh my. If it’s a pleasant interlude you want…”

Walked right into that one.

He smirked and patted the cushion next to him. “Sit down. Observe. It’s simply a matter of sliding a shaft,” he held up one of the metal rods, “into a tight chamber, and finessing it until you gain entry.”

That totally deserved an eyeroll, so I provided it, but I did want to acquire this skill, so I sat where indicated and waited for him to begin.

“A very eager pupil indeed.” He set the three locks in front of me. The one with the kanji opened by combination, and would be impossible to pick, but the other two were keyed locks, with the keys already resting inside the locks.

“The bolt is spring-held in place by its shape, wider at one end than the other. The key is generally used to push the spring open.” He pulled one of the keys out, fastened the lock, then slid the key back in. “Listen to the sound it makes when it hits the spring.”

Click.

“However, the process is easier to feel than it is to explain.” He locked the lock and handed me the key and the pick. “First unlock it with the key but slowly. Get used to how the motion feels when the key presses on the interior sides to free the bolt.”

I have in fact unlocked locks with keys before, even these antique (though not at the moment antique) rectangular ones. Unlike modern padlocks, which rely on rotation, the locks used in this time require a bit of force to open, especially if the pin sticks – which it did in this case. In the end, I had to jam my palm against it to exert enough pressure on the key.

“Some things do require a bit of sensitivity.” He locked the lock and returned it to me. “Try with one slow, smooth stroke. Caress the inside of the lock.”

Seriously?

I side-eyed that one, and received from him a look of such theatrical innocence that I’m surprised the Gods didn’t smite him for it. Great. And I’m sure that if I called out his wording, I would be the one accused of having a dirty mind. Fine. I returned my attention to the lock and put the square key back inside, trying to pay attention to the moment the key depressed the spring enough for the lock to disengage.

Click.

“Now the keys to these locks vary somewhat in shape.” He held up the key I had just used which was basically a square tube. Then he showed me the other key, which was two horizontal double bend curves, running parallel with about a quarter of a centimeter between them. “They operate in the same fashion – to compact the spring on the other end.” He returned the curved key to the other lock and the bolt disengaged. “As you have no doubt already surmised, if you want to go about opening locks, it’s impossible to carry with you the number of appropriately shaped keys in which to do so. Hence, these.” He lifted up two of the two metal rods.

Returning to the original lock, he inserted one of the picks on the left side of the square keyhole and pushed it all the way through. Then the other pick on the right. With a minimal amount of wiggling, the bolt slid out.

Hm, that seemed almost too easy. I repeated his actions on the lock…

Click.

… it was literally that easy. “I don’t understand. What’s the point?”

“There’s a reason why most people carry their most important valuables on their person, or hire armed guards.” Mitsuhide handed me the other keyed lock, the one with the curved hole. “Although this one should take slightly more effort.”

In seconds I had the other lock open.

“Of course, it’s also true that most people – most honest people - don’t expect to encounter a lock, or they find themselves unexpectedly in chains. So, one must improvise.” He pulled two of the sticks from my hair. Of course, my hair immediately jenga’d into total entropy. He relocked the locks and gave me back the hairsticks. “Try it with these.”

I blew my hair out of my eyes and got to work. With the wooden hairsticks, it was a bit more difficult – I was afraid to put too much pressure on them because –

Snap!

“Damn.”

“Such language.” The tone was teasing, but I got the sense he really did not appreciate me swearing.

With half of my hair stick now wedged in the lock there wasn’t much else I could do. Reluctantly, I turned the lock back over to Mitsuhide who shook it until the reminder of the stick fell out. He silently handed it back over to me. I suppose he didn’t want a souvenir of #lockpickfail.

“Now this one.” He held up the combination lock. It had five rotating barrels, each with four kanji characters on them. “There is no key, it will open when you arrange the letters in the correct order.”

Yes. I had gathered that part of it. “So it’s a matter of trial and error until I hit the correct combination?” Math has never been my strength. I knew there was a formula for figuring out how many possible combinations there would be, but I didn’t know what that formula was, and to be honest, I wouldn’t be able to do that sort of calculation in my head anyway. I had a feeling the answer would be in the realm of ‘reallybigion.’

“Hm. You could try that.” Mitsuhide waved to a cushion on the other side of the room. “Over there.”

Yeah, I don’t want to sit next to you all night either.

I took the lock to the indicated spot and proceeded to try and solve the combination.

About twenty minutes later (just a guess, no clocks in the Sengoku), when I realized that the job was made more difficult because the barrels were slippery, Mitsuhide’s voice interrupted my concentration. “Did I fail to mention that you likely will not have enough time to go through all the potential combinations before you are interrupted, or your prison cell floods, or you are executed at dawn?”

“Why yes, I believe you did fail to mention that.” Dammit, I had lost my place.

“Or even,” Mitsuhide oozed over to my side, “in addition to being chained to a wall, it’s completely dark in the cell… or you’re wearing a blindfold.”

That was all the warning I got before the world turned pink. Figures he’d put a pink blindfold on me. “Hey! Ask permission before you do something like that.”

I reached up to remove the blindfold but was immediately distracted by Mitushide, who seated himself directly behind me. He reached around my waist and put his hands on top of mine. His breath tickled my neck, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat pounded against my back. It was like being enveloped in the essence of him, surrounded by cinnamon and sandalwood, and Mitsuhide.

He adjusted my grip on the lock. “Can you feel the tension on the bolt?”

I could, in fact, feel tension everywhere.

His heartrate had picked up slightly.

Or maybe that was mine. We were so close together it was impossible to tell any longer.

Resolutely I ignored that (pretty sure he was trying to distract me on purpose) and concentrated on the barrels of the lock.

“Keep the pressure on the bolt.” He placed my index finger on the underside of the bolt. “Now, can you feel as I turn the barrel the moment when it becomes slightly looser?”

I held my breath – why, I don’t know, it wasn’t necessary – ignored the pounding in my ears, and concentrated on the barrel he was turning. He was right – there was a moment when the were less pressure on the bolt.  “There!”

“Very good. Now, the next one. Keep the tension level even but slide your finger to the next barrel. Feel the pressure while I slowly twist it.” His voice rasped in my ear. Had he lowered his tone to a sensual purr just to further distract me?

Well, it won’t work, sir. I concentrated on the tension in the lock and not the curious breathlessness that was building inside me. Not on that buzzing that was traveling along every nerve ending. Not on the way certain muscles had tightened. “There!”

“Good. You might have a talent for more than chaos.” He moved on to the third one, and again, I identified the spot relatively easily. “For this one, you rotate the barrel. Slow, even speed.”

Those cool calloused fingers guided mine across the rough bronze surface of the lock, placing my thumb and pointer finger on the fourth barrel. “Don’t forget to keep pressure on the bolt. You don’t want to undo all the work by releasing prematurely.”

Carefully, I twisted the barrel, trying by feel to reach the place that would loosen the bolt another degree. In one sense it was not unlike when Aki had taught me how to listen to the wind when I was practicing archery. And yet in another, it was unlike anything I had ever experienced. All my focus was inward, as only the tiniest shift would alert—

There! Without checking with Mitsuhide, I moved on to the final barrel. He made a faint hum of approval, so I knew I had been correct.

That approving hm reverberated through me, fizzing, celebratory.

But not yet. I had one more piece to decode.

My hands almost were too small for the lock, because in order to establish the final placement of the last barrel, I had to keep the pressure on the bolt and make sure none of the previous tumblers slipped out of place. I wanted to speed through, to hurry, but that would be the worst possible strategy. I bit the inside of my cheek for control, did my best to keep from trembling.  If I messed it up now and had to start over, I would scream in frustration.

“Slowly, stay steady. You’re almost there.” Maybe it was my imagination, but it seemed Mitsuhide was nearly as breathless as I was.

As soon as the final barrel was in the correct position, the bolt disengaged with a –

Snap

It shot out of the lock…

… and it clattered to the floor.

Finally, I let go of all the air that had damned up in my lungs.

Mitsuhide backed away from me in that instant. By the time I had ripped the blindfold off, he’d beamed himself back to his desk, put the lock back together and rescrambled the barrels. “Practice. With your eyes closed, because I don’t have another lock.” He handed me the lock.

I jumped to my feet. “Um, yeah. Great idea. I think I’ll go do that in my room.”

“Mm, yes, the quiet of your room would be advisable.” The smile he gave me had dialed the wicked up to eleven. “You do appear to be rather overstimulated.”

I didn’t exactly run out of there. But it felt like I did, especially as I thought I heard Mitsuhide’s laughter follow me out the door.

@bestbryn

@selenacosmic

@mllorei

@tele86

@lyds323

@akitsuneswife

[specialgradefckr]

Cutest Girl Alive~

tw: explicit content. brat!reader, gojo is not a brat tamer he is a brat enjoyer, hate sex vibes, very very tsundere!reader, gojo is hilariously oblivious about how annoying he is, reader is kinda mean (not without reason...)

satoru gojo who just doesn't know what your problem is.

he really doesn't! suguru doesn't believe him, of course, but it's true - he didn't do anything. at least not anything that would warrant you asking if his "inbred, illiterate ass is too important to file a report".

ichiji said it was just because his paper backlog made things difficult for everybody. but the inbreeding comment was uncalled for!

his mom is super hot, though. he told you as much, and offered to set up a date, just in case you swung the other way.

unfortunately, the only thing that swung was your hand against his face, which didn't make contact, but it still hurt his feelings!

(you'd looked him dead in the eye. "good." walked away.)

and that wasn't just an isolated incident!

he'd caught you at the vending machine, bent over. satoru had politely refrained from slapping your ass and loudly announced how hot it was.

perfect gentleman!

whereupon you had turned around, smiling tightly, and offered him the soda.

"see," he teased, cracking it open, "i knew you could be nice if-"

the soda sprayed all over his face. your smile looked a little looser, a little realer, and your laugh - while awful and wicked - had been terribly adorable.

when he started to laugh with you, though, you just glared. rolled your eyes, and walked off in the middle of the conversation.

and just. random moments! your face falls into an admittedly cute pout (suguru says it's a grimace) whenever he walks into the room.

"how's your day been?"

"good, until you got here."

like, he's not crazy here. you're just being mean.

honestly, it's kind of funny. or it would be funny, if it didn't kind of hurt a little.

suguru doesn't get the same kind of response. when he begs, pleads, and bribes suguru into asking you what you don't like about him -

"if i had to say... everything."

whereupon suguru had burst out laughing.

mean!

but that's the thing, though. you were nice to suguru, to everyone else.

you're not a bitch. you're a bitch to him.

he's special.

you don't treat anybody else like this.

why is that, satoru ponders. why do you especially dislike him?

suguru says it's his shitty personality. joke's on suguru because his best friend has been some guy with a shitty personality for about a decade now! loser.

anyways, he comes up with a plan. he texts you from another phone and number, something perfectly random and polite. a picture of a cat he found on the street.

(you love cats so you'll definitely respond. he knows because he's been popping in on you for several weeks now. it's not stalking because he doesn't follow you! and that was so rude of suguru to say!)

the conversation that follows is perfectly pleasant. sweet, even. he enjoys it, right up until -

mean girl <3: hey could you do me a huge favor actually? satoru gojo: anything 4 u kitten!! mean girl <3: kill yourself gojo

his number is blocked.

whoops. wow. do you have a built in satoru gojo detector or something? what is he missing? what gave him away???

suguru looks over the texts and just stares at him blankly at the question.

"well? what could have clued her in?"

"oh, god... satoru, if you can't tell, just forget about it. and stop trying to fool her."

he probably should. stop, that is.

he's not following you but he's definitely teleporting into places he knows you'll be. trying to run into you. constantly. daily. hourly, even.

he likes to stay updated on all your missions. your favorite restaurants. maybe he watches you a little.

there's just something that draws him in. your quick wits, your derision. the way you look at him with all that fire.

you want to laugh at him. he wants to laugh with you.

and yeah, he gets rock hard when you yell at him. he'd let you slap him but you don't bother trying anymore after hitting his infinity that one time. bummer.

it's a late summer evening - sun still up, orange on the horizon. he's stuck filling out reports, you're stuck grading papers.

in silence, as always. you'd never speak to him unless it was to insult him.

"hey," satoru says all the sudden, "you wanna fuck?"

the silence that fills the room is colder, harder -

"are you fucking serious?" insulted, outraged - that's about what he expected.

but... if he looks with the six eyes... if he glances at your sympathetic nervous system, if he squints really hard and swears three times over, maybe he can convince himself -

"you're not totally against the idea, are you?" he draws himself up from the table, smirking.

hooking a finger in his blindfold like he's trying to remind you just how long they are.

you stare at him.

"dead serious," he confirms, "right here right now. i can be fast."

"i don't doubt it." oooh, there's that bite again, "i doubt i'd enjoy it."

his smile bares teeth.

"wanna bet?"

and fuck, just look at you now. look at you!

with all six eyes he is. and satoru likes what he sees.

hunched over, teary eyed. face bright red. you used to scowl at him with that face, that pretty face, all hard lines and snarled lips -

and look at you now! so cute and precious and soft! so sweet he wants to take a bite out of you.

you even yelp, adorably, when he nips at the inside of your thigh. sensitive, twitchy.

he's dizzy with it. with the taste of you, of your cum. your high pitched little whimpers in his ears are still ringing in his ears, along with your mean retorts.

"where's your smart mouth now, baby?" he teases, lips glossy with your slick.

and god, it's even fucking hotter watching you try to glare while blushing and trembling and blinking away tears of overstimulation.

"sh-shut up and put your dick in me, gojo," you bite out, "if you even know how."

you jolt when he kisses your cunt, looking you in the eyes while he does it.

"awh, you poor thing," he cooes, crawling up your chest to go face-to-face, even as another hand goes to dig his cock out of his pants, "so impatient."

he can tell it riles you up. that you don't know what to do, trapped in his gaze.

"fuck off, gojo."

"i'll fuck you," he says with a snicker, kissing your throat. like he knows you won't let him kiss your lovely little pouty face.

how could he not have seen it before?

(well, he had his blindfold on for one. but the principle of you being unsettled by your attraction towards him still stands!)

he lines himself up, nice and easy. feels your unsteady hands reach, cling to his shoulders, and that's almost as hot.

you look down to avoid his gaze, but then your eyes widen at the sight of his cock. huge and pink and throbbing.

"yummy, right?" he croons, "you can have a taste after if you want. you're so sweet, you deserve a lick or two."

you make this sharp gasp, the most adorable, helpless noise, your whole body jerking as he plunges into you, and satoru nearly cums just from that.

cute. cute cute cute cute so fucking cute he's gonna go crazy.

he bites at the place your shoulder meets your neck just to sate himself. soft skin, tender flesh. salty and slick from sweat.

you melt in his mouth. around his dick. whimpering and sniffling and mewling little demands.

"get on with it, gojo, fuck, is this your first time - "

"first time fucking a cunt this wet?" he purrs between sucking marks on your neck, "yeah, baby. it's crazy, how much you want me."

"you went down on me for like," another high-pitched squeak as he nips your ear, "t-ten minutes, dumbass. of course i'm wet!"

your hands claw at him, trembling just like your voice.

he shoves himself in, all the way to the hilt, disintegrating any coherence you had left. all you can do is cry out, wailing when his long fingers brush over your poor, swollen, tender clit.

"awh, baby, you can take it," he croons. his heart does a little delighted flutter when he sees your (utterly kissable) lips purse in annoyance, only to fall apart again when he pumps back into you.

"run out of nasty things to say, huh, baby?" satoru swears he can feel your pretty little clit twitching and pulsing at his touch, just like his cock throbs inside you.

his eyes glitter as he thrusts in and out. god, your hot fucking body tensing and shuddering against him, the exhaustion warring with pleasure and aggravation on your face.

there's not a single part of you that isn't utterly fixated on him. in this moment he's the most important thing in your world.

and it's glorious. your cunt is clenching him like a vice, unraveling him almost as far as he's already unwound you. little moans spill from your mouth, music to his ears.

that face, god, that fucking gorgeous face that's always frowning at him. so pretty now.

"look at you," he pants, close so close, "god, you're - such a bitch all the time - you just needed a good fucking, huh?"

satoru snatches your face by the jaw, looking you straight in the eyes.

they're all wet and messy and a little bit red. he's so close he has to press hard, fast circles into your clit to get you closer, closer -

"f-fuck," you sob, "fuck, hngh, you-"

he licks your tears off your cheeks, "just needed some good cock, huh? that's all it takes to shut your mean little mouth?"

clawing at his back. he feels you squeezing him for all he's worth, milking him -

"fuck, i'm cumming," he groans, bursting hot and liquid in your tight cunt.

you gulp down heavy, airy breaths. delicate noises as you tremble in his arms.

fuck, you're so gorgeous. satoru lays you back, your lashes fluttering, face flushed, spread out on the desk all limp and exhausted.

his ravished beauty. his little spitfire.

"see," he cooes, cupping your cheek, "all sweet for me now that you're filled with my cum. see how nice it feels when you're good for me?"

your hands shoot up, slapping his hand away, covering your face.

"your mouth is literally only good for eating pussy."

he laughs, leaning in to hold you against him. "and yours is only good for talking shit."

"maybe if you weren't such an asshole you'd know better." you snap, pulling back, sliding him out of you with a little gasp that gets his cock twitching again.

he whines at the loss of you, "awh, come on, don't be like that."

you roll your eyes. it's pretty incredible how well you're composing yourself, fixing your clothes and hair. taking a deep breath as you pointedly ignore his pestering and prepare to leave.

his bitchy, pretty baby. so much less intimidating when he's seen you moaning and cumming in his mouth - but he thinks you're even more adorable now.

"i gave you more than your fair share of orgasms, didn't i? show me what else it's good for~" he sings, staring at you the whole time.

you ignore him until you're dressed again. glancing at him from the corner of your eye. turning away.

"...next week after class." you say, stopping just before you leave, "i don't like owing people."

"heh." satoru watches you dart out the door, shutting it briskly behind you, smiling to himself.

maybe you thought he couldn't see it - as if he isn't always watching your face - but just before you left, he could tell.

the faintest dusting of pink on your cheeks...

you really are the cutest girl alive, huh?

(megumi tells him to stop whistling that day - he doesn't stop for an entire week.)

[pirateprincessjess]

I had a coworker a few years ago that thought “transgender” was an offensive term.

One day he heard someone refer to me as trans and he said “woah! Trans is a slur! When you’re at work you need to use a more respectful term, like sissy, or I will report you to HR”

I appreciate so much that he was willing to come to my defense, but lol he had that backwards.

He had heard that the T-slur was offensive and just assumed that “Trans” and “Transgender” were different forms of the T-Slur.

[royalarchivist]

Jaiden: How did you guys even find out that, um... Chayanne's admin plays Cucurucho? [Reading chat] Ohhh, accidentally played the soundboard as Chayanne? That's hilarious actually. I wanna see the clip of Phil reacting to that.

Jaiden: I love– I love the way that Phil laughs, it's just such a hearty, genuine laugh. The few times that I've made him laugh, I've felt really good about myself! [Embarrassed laugh] Because he makes me feel much funnier than I am, you know?

Jaiden talks about silly QSMP moments and laughter. 💜

[ Full Subtitle Transcript ↓ ]

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TRANSCRIPT

Jaiden: How did you guys even find out that, um... Chayanne's admin plays Cucurucho? Did they just tell- tell Phil? Did- were they just hangin' out? [Reading chat] "The same username"? Ohhh. [Reading chat] "It was a mistake"? ...Wait, what was the mistake? What do you mean "it was an accident"?

Jaiden: Ohhh, accidentally played the soundboard [Laughs] as Chayanne? That's hilarious actually. [Laughs] What di- what did he say, was he just like, "Ha ha ha"? [Laughs]

[Old clip of Bad, Fit, and the Eggs] Bad: –have one of the things I'm looking for. Chayanne: [Cucurucho voice] HA HA HA Bad: What was that? Fit: You heard that too, right? Chayanne: [Cucurucho voice] NO Bad: ...What the fudge was that. Fit: Wait–

Jaiden: [Reading chat] "He said 'no'" [Laughs] That's so funny. [Laughs] I wanna see the clip of Phil reacting to that. I love– I love the way that Phil laughs, it's just such a hearty, genuine laugh.

[Clip of Phil laughing]

Jaiden: The few times that I've made him laugh, I've felt really good about myself! [Embarrassed laugh] Because he makes me feel much funnier than I am, you know?

[Old clip of Phil and Jaiden] Jaiden: Oh, that's awesome! And then it– [She gets snagged by the machine] Jaiden: Oh– Ahh! Phil: Be careful! Jaiden: AAAAAᵃᵃᵃᵃᵃᵃ — [Her screams fade as she's dragged away] Phil: [Laughs] There she goes! [Hits his desk and laughs]

[Another old clip plays] Jaiden: [Singing along to "It's Been So Long" from FNAF] It's been so long, since I've last seen my– Phil: What is happening? [Laughs, then laughs more seeing Jaiden's mask] PFTTT– [Laughs] Jaiden: [Laughing] Phil: Jesus Christ–

Jaiden: It's just like, such a good laugh! I wish I had a– a like, more-hearty laugh. You know? You know what I'm talking about? My laugh is kinda like... Uh, you know how you guys compare Foolish's laugh to like, the... window cleaner? Like a– [Squeaky window-cleaning sound]

[Short clip of Foolish covering his face with one hand and making the squeaky laugh he's known for, slapping the arm of his chair as he keeps laughing]

Jaiden: I can't do it– [Laughs] It doesn't sound like that. I think mine is like... Because like, I do like, "Hee hee hee!" and I also like, breathe in, like– [Squeaky sound] You know? So I think– My laugh kinda just sounds like... Like, after you spray the window, and you're like, cleaning it. Like, wiping it down with a cloth. You know? That's what my laugh sounds like. I wish it was more of like a, "Ha ha ha."

[Short clip of Cucurucho saying "HA HA HA"]

Jaiden: But, I mean, I'm not complaining. I don't think– I don't think "laugh anxiety" is something that I wanna– is not a path I would really wanna go down. [Quiet laugh] It's like- sometimes, you just gotta pick your battles. [Laughs]

Jaiden: [Reading chat] "You have a good laugh" Thank you. [Quiet laugh]

[why-the-heck-not]

me, a responsible being, working on the coding project as I should vs. me, a dysfunctional shithead, getting distracted by reading about brains (once aGAIN damnit (it's my favorite "I need to study my field but bc I should do that it's an impossible unthinkable feat now, so I'm reading about something else to fool my brain I'm still being productive"-topic))

[killjoy-toast]

As the #1 one Mary Poppins truther, I legally had no other choice

[theokusgallery]

Why, hello there, Virgil. Long time no see!

[marielism]

daniil gives me insaaaane “has a little sister” vibes

[seafoamsol]

Hey, different post than usual, but this is just a PSA for people who may follow or have purchased anything from @/kagebros, or are looking to join any of the zines run by them @/allsparkzines. They have a history (and present) of tracing for profit.

I don’t think this one requires an overlay. It’s a trace of the yolopark bumblebee shockwave model kit promotional image, as a “sketch”.

Which they changed, once people noticed it! Changed most of it. They traced a different promotional image for the gun, which remained largely the same, even in the final piece (right).

Their matching Optimus Prime poster is a trace of the still from a [ Paramount promo video ], 36 seconds in.

There are several other examples that I can’t fit into this post without making it overly long, but if you have purchased or have been gifted anything from them, there is a chance it has been traced.

Regarding tracing as a tool:

Go hogwild! Trace all you want! Tracing is a very useful tool for learning shapes and forms, but like any other tool, it’s only useful if you use it correctly. The ultimate goal of tracing is to understand. It’s training wheels. Just don’t hide and lie about it, because as soon as you do, it becomes plagiarism.

Even within the finished versions of the Shockwave poster, it’s still clear where parts have been traced or copied without understanding. It’s a shame, because transformers as a franchise having so many toys makes it very easy to make references!

Here's an example of how I use them:

Luckily for me, the Cybertron toys and models are more or less exactly the same. I don't own the toys, so I have two images from a [ toy reviewer ] on top. Many angles to help me understand exactly what's happening. Granted, I could just ask my friend who does own the toy for him in the same pose, but tracing over that directly would make it too stiff and it wouldn't mesh with my style.

TL;DR: Kage traces, blindly and without disclosure, for profit.

[erinwantstowrite]

personally i think the trope of "said something i wasn't supposed to while high on pain meds at the hospital" only works if it's smth actually incomprehensible. down with this trope. that and the whole "speaking out loud but the narrator doesn't know they are" trope. you should legally have to tag that i think. i know this usually happens for characters that would never admit something otherwise but actually there are a billion reasons someone would admit something they wouldn't otherwise. for example: someone else has a bomb-

[fyllophobia]

think fast! surprise trust fall

[rox-of-iu]

(i made these back in Dec 2023 but forgot to post them. but i still like them so here they go)

anyway these are character sketches/concepts for a fic As the incense burns, which is basically Misadventures of PIDW late-game Mu Qingfang

((pardon the scrap paper, most of them were just side doodles from next to my notes lol))

some more scraps under cut ↓

these are silly goofy doodles which do not correlate with the overall vibe of the fic (with some exceptions) but i am not making fun of the fic dont worry the author gave me explicit permission to make these :) (lol)

[whenthelightisrunninglow]

spent the last couple nights watching the handplates (<- @zarla-s if you’ve never read it) comic dub with a friend of mine :-]

gaster ^

[bluegarners]

soccer mom bruce wayne except its batman driving like crazy all across gotham bc he and dick have plans to do patrol as soon as dick is out of school, but first he has to go talk to gordon about a tip gcpd got last night, and then he has to go check on a recorder he hid in an area known for black mask associates to linger, and then when he picks dick up, they have to go back to the manor bc bruce forgot to bring electrolytes and snacks with him, so alfred is running to the car to hand them off through the window and dick is still adjusting his mask, and that's when bruce realizes dick isn't wearing his knee pads even though he knows they're going to be jumping off a lot of rooftops tonight so they have to take another minute to find dick's knee pads while he chugs a gatorade, and then finally they peel out of the cave and do patrol and bruce sits very heavily on the edge of a building while he watches dick jeer at a couple crooks with his blue stained mouth

[almea]

"Did we miss anything?"

Bonus: When your gay pining was so obnoxious that even Juniper looks excited about you kissing

[piningpercussionist]

As densely packed as I could tolerate making it- Roxie doodles! (Vast majority of these are from several weeks ago I'm not gonna lie,,)