#office space cheshire

[jiminsafairy]

Darling, you are late - Seokjin (ft Namjoon)

Summary: Your husband is late to your baby making session, so you take the matter into your own hands.

Pairing: CEOhusband!seokjin x wife!reader (ft husband best friend!Namjoon)

wc:3k

Warnings: unprotected sex (they are trying to make a baby, duh), reader is a bit bratty, exhibitionism, he cums inside (duh), cockwarming, seokjin is a workaholic, pregnancy kink (lactation kink if you squint?), namjoon makes a cameo! reader gives him a bj while seokjin fucks her

"Sir, your wife is here" you hear his secretary say.

"Send her in", he answers, his voice distorted as it comes off the intercom.

"You can come in, Mrs. Kim" the old lady indicates.

You push open the double doors and stepped inside. The room was spacious and bright, with floor-to-ceiling windows that filled the space with natural light and offered a stunning view of the city.

To one side, a comfortable red velvet sofa provided a cozy spot to relax. The office was tastefully decorated with a few pieces of art on the walls giving the finishing touch.

In the center of the office stood a large wooden desk, neatly organized. Seated on the fancy chair was your husband. His eyes were fixed on the laptop screen, face scrunched in concentration, a frown creasing his forehead.

You couldn’t avoid the thought of how handsome he looked with his two-piece gray suit.

"Hello dear, give just one m- " your husband starts to say, but you cut him, angry.

"I thought you were coming home early!" you scold him, crossing your arms over your chest. After waiting for more than an hour you got tired of it and decided to take the matter into your own hands, driving across the city to his office.

"I’m sorry darling, had to attend a last-minute meeting and now I’m stuck with paperwork" Seokjin excuses himself, eyesight never leaving the screen.

"Don’t you know what day it is?!" you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I’m afraid you’ll have to refresh my memory, dear" he mumbles, not paying attention to you.

"It’s ovulation day! You said you were going home early!", you pout while walking up to his desk, the sound of your heels clicking on the floor.

"Gimme a ‘I’m sorry kiss’ at least" , you demand, and your husband finally takes his sight away from the computer. He looks at you with sorry eyes, and you lean in, allowing him to place a quick peck on your lips.”I love you” you say.

"Mmm, I love you too" he says against your lips, "Please wait for me just five more minutes and we’ll go home" he excuses himself, going back to his important CEO paperwork

"Darling but I’m bored! And horny!" ,you whine, getting behind him, placing your hand on his broad shoulders.

Placing your hands on his broad shoulders, you whisper in his ear, cheshire cat-smile on your face, "If you could do…" you place a soft peck against his neck," something…" peck, "to keep me entertained.." another peck, "while I wait…".

He lets out a sigh, knowing what your intentions were, but he caves in anyway, "baby, you can sit on my cock while I finish this paperwork, how does that sound?", he offers, leaning back on his chair. 

"Terrific" you say while unbuttoning your blouse, and sliding it over your arms. No bra in sight, your big breast in full display for him.

Seojin looks at you with hungry eyes, "god, you are so hot." He pulls you gently by your wrist, bringing you close to him. "Do you need me to prep you, love?" your husband taking one breast on his mouth, tongue flicking against your nipple. 

"No need Jinnie, I’m so wet already…" you say, unzipping your black midi skirt, the fabric pooling at your feet. You were not wearing any underwear. You grab his hand, inviting to feel for himself.

He inserts one finger inside your needy pussy making you moan, feeling your juices covering his digit. "You are such a dirty girl, going around my office with no underwear". Your pussy clenches around his finger. "Bet that’s why you are so wet" he coos, pumping his finger inside you a few times before taking it out, leaving your pussy clenching around nothing.

His hands go to his suit pants, pulling them down to his knees along with his black briefs, freeing his semi-hard cock. Just the thought of you walking around his building with no underwear makes his cock stiffen. You take his shaft in your hand and after a few pumps, it was hard and ready for you.

You sit on his lap, back against his, while he guides his cock inside your needy hole, rubbing the tip against your wet folds. "Oh god… so good", you moan at the feeling of his huge cock entering your pussy. "No matter how many times we fuck, I just love being stretched by your dick", you say, enjoying the feeling of being so full.

"My beautiful wife loves keeping my dick warm, huh? What a lucky man I am" he says, planting a kiss on your bare shoulder, "now be a good girl and lemme finish this, so we can go home and make some babies, yes?" he demands, giving your asscheek a quick squeeze, eyesight fixed on the boring spreadsheet again. His left hand goes to your nipple,and starts fiddling with it. 

"Mmm…keep doing that Jinnie, feels so good…" you moan, leaning back against his chest.

The feeling of having your husband playing with your sore breast it’s good, but not enough. Too horny to keep your thoughts straight, you begin to squeeze your inner walls, making excuses to wiggle around. 

"Stay still", your husband says, lowering his voice. He tugs at your nipple, making you moan. “I know what you're trying to do, you little devil” he warns, but you ignore him, clenching your walls again.

"But Jinnie I’m not doing anything!" you said mischievously, trying to hide a smile. But kept on clenching your walls.

"That’s it," Seokjin said as he lifted you from his lap, his cock leaving your aching pussy, "I’ve had enough, hands on the desk, ass up." You obey, placing your hands on the desk, leaning against it, lifting up your ass.

Being placed between his desk and the glass walls, anyone from the next building curious enough to look would be able to see the lewd scene the two of you were performing.

"You minx, you thought you were being slick, didn’t you?" he whispers and you feel his hot breath against your ear. "It’s time to show you who’s in charge.", he says, grabbing his cock by the base and giving it a few pumps.

He rubs the tip of his cock against your needy pussy. "Please love, just put it inside!" you plead.

"My wife wants to be bred, doesn’t she? Such a good girl” he coos. "I love you.” He declares as he buries himself inside your needy hole with one hard thrust, making you moan.

"Fuck! I love you!" you whimper,leaning on your elbows.

He starts pounding against your pussy, grabbing you by your hips.

"Fuck Jin, It feels so good! I feel you so deep inside me…please don’t stop!" you moan, closing your eyes in pleasure.

"Fuck, I feel your pussy clenching around my cock."

You two were so lost in the moment that neither of you noticed someone had entered Seokjin’s office and was standing next to you, observing the scene with curiosity.

"So, this is what the boss spends his time doing in his fancy office, huh?" the mysterious visitor said, looking at the situation unfolding before him.

"Shut up, Namjoon'' said Seokjin gasping for air, hips still bucking against your asscheeks, cock buried deep inside you, “we all know what you did at the Christmas party when you sneaked away to your office with that girl from accounting", your husband claps back, pushing his cock deeper into you. Even with an audience, you both were so caught up in the moment that the thought of stopping didn’t even cross your mind.

"Hi Nam" you chirp, looking at your husband’s best friend.

"Hey beautiful", your husband’s friend answers with a smile, flashing his dimples at you, "I just came to let you know that the Japanese investors have just posponed tomorrow's meeting...", said the man. The sentence was clearly directed at your husband, but his eyes were fixed on your tits, bouncing with each thrust.

"Message received. Now, if you'll excuse us, we're trying to do something important; this company needs an heir," your husband said, bending down to grab your tits with his big hands, pitching your nipples between his index and thumb. 

"Alright, I'll leave," says Namjoon, but his feet didn’t move.

Your eyes drift down to the tent that has been forming inside his trousers. A wild thought crossed your mind.

"Jinnie, can I..?" you say, motioning with your eyes towards Namjoon’s boner.

"Oh, hell no!" he yells, stopping his pounding, but not taking his cock out.

"He cannot leave like that!" you laughed, "poor guy is going to get arrested for public indecency!".

Namjoon just stood there, watching as the lover’s quarrel took place.

"Alright, but it's just this once," your husband says, starting again to pump into your pussy at a slow pace, "You know I cannot say ‘no’ to you", he says with a smile on his face.

"I love you" you said cheekily.

"Yeah, yeah."

You looked at Namjoon, "would you take out your cock for me, Joon?" you said, giving him the puppy eyes, "I’m quite busy here", you say.

"On it, gorgeous", he said diligently, sliding his black suit pants down to his knees, black briefs following them. Big cock springing free, you couldn’t keep your glistening eyes away from it, amazed by the size. It was different from Seokjin’s. Not longer, that was a given – your husband has the longest cock you ever had -, but it was on the thicker side.

Namjoon grabs his cock by the base and rubs the tip against your lips. You take your tongue out and start giving small licks around the head, going slowly down to the base. Your husband’s best friend lets out a pleasure moan.

You put the tip inside your lips, liking the tip with your tongue.

"Fuck, she’s so good, hyung" he states, grabbing handful of your long hair, "her mouth is amazing."

"Yeah" he says, looking down at you. "My pretty wife gives the sloppiest blowjobs, right?". You mumble in response, mouth too full of cock to be able to articulate any word.

Namjoon’s hips start to swiftly buck against your face. You notice how much he’s restringing himself. And so does your husband.

"Are you going to let Namjoon fuck that pretty mouth of yours?" he coos, slowing down his thrusts. “Show him how good you suck cock?"

Humming in response, you relax your jaw, taking the full length inside your mouth. Immediately Namjoon starts fucking your mouth, right hand still on your hair.

"Hyung, can I?" he asks.

"Mmm… I guess you can" your husband says. You don’t know what they are talking about until you feel his fingers leaving your tits, and another set of - never felt before -  fingers on you. "Her tits are the best, feel them for yourself."

"Fuck yes, I always though how good they’d feel" says as he feels the weight of your breasts with his hands. "So soft...so big they can barely fit in my hand" says, as he starts pitching your nipples between his fingers.

The feeling of having your husband plugging you with his cock behind you, and his best friend’s cock filling your mouth and abusing your sore nipples was too much to handle. The familiar pressure building in your abdomen, your aching pussy clenching around Seokjin’s shaft.

"She’s going to cum, she’s milking my cock so hard" Seokjin says, pumping hard, "keep doing it Joon'' he demands, as he leans on your back, his hand reaching for your needy clit. "You are doing so well, love, fucking me so good while sucking my best friend."

You moan, feeling so full on both ends. Pleasure becomes almost unbearable, you reach your orgasm between cries of pleasure.

"Fuck I’m close" whines Namjoon, hardening the grip on your breast. "Where do-?", he asks, as he starts to get his dick out of your mouth.

"Don’t move" orders seokjin. "You can cum in her mouth, she loves swallowing cum, don’t you, love?" he asks you, even though he already knows the answer. You do.

You hum in aproval, and keep liking Namjoon's tip with your tongue. Lifting one hand from the desk, you start fiddling with his balls.

"I’m cumming, f-fuck!" moans Namjoon, leaning back his head with pleasure. Hot spurts of cum filling your mouth.

"Swallow. Everything" Seokjin commands, and you are happy to obey, swallowing every bit of cum. "Good girl" he praises.

Namjoon flicks your nipple one last time, before taking his cock out of your mouth. “That was amazing, thank you beautiful”, says the man while pulling his pants and briefs up. You smile at him.

"Good luck with the heir thing!" was heard as Seokjin's partner closed the office doors.

"No more interruptions, my love. It's time for us to get serious," says Seokjin, slowing the pace of his thrusts and taking his cock out of your pussy.  

"W-what?", You whine at the feeling of being empty, turning back to him. "What are you doing?!"

He grabs you by the hand, leading you to the couch. “Dirty girls like you don’t get my cum just like that, they need to earn it” he says, plumping himself there.

"Now ride me like the good girl you are" he orders, palming his naked thighs. "Show me how bad you want to be stuffed with my cum", he demands with a cocky smile adorning his beautiful plump lips.

You straddle him, grabbing his cock by the base and guiding it inside your pussy again, rubbing the tip up and down your wet slit. “Mmm, you feel so good”, you moan, closing your eyes. "I love you so much" you declare.

You gasp, sinking down on his long shaft, the change of position allowing you to feel him even deeper. "I feel so full, so stuffed" you moan, starting to rock your hips.

"You enjoy being full of cock, don’t you?" he groans, hands grabbing the flesh of your hips.

"Yes, I love your cock it’s so big, filling me so good…" you whine, pleasure becoming almost unbearable.

"I wanna see those big tits bounce, ride me faster" he demands, urging you to speed up your movements. You lay your hands on his chest, using them as leverage.

"Fuck, your pussy fills so good", your husband moans, sitting up and taking one nipple in his mouth. "I can't wait until these pretty tits are big, filled with milk" he whispers, his hot breath against your needy flesh."You'd like that, yeah?"

"Seokjin, fuck, I’m close", you whimper. The feeling of his hipbone gracing your clit with every move taking you close to your release.

He releases your nipple, leaving your tit glistening with saliva.

"“Such a good girl, riding me like that. I love watching you ride me" ,he praises. "I’m close too." he says as his hips start bucking to meet yours.“ Fuck I’m gonna cum."

"Seokjin!" you whine, "Fuck!", your orgasms taking over you.

"I’m cumming, fuck I’m gonna fill you so good, I love you so much" he groans. "Don’t stop baby, I’m cumming" he announces as you keep bouncing on his cock.

You feel his warm sperm filling you, hot spurts coating your walls, and lean to kiss him.You stay in that position for a few moments, indulging in your kiss.Until you feel his cum starting to run down your inner thighs.

"Oh, shit" you say, stepping out of his lap and sitting next to him. He looks at you, and to your surprise, he collects all the cum that had spilled from your pussy, "we cannot let even one bit go to waste," says, plunging you with his fingers. "Mmm… yeah" you moan.

Once you have collected yourselves, your husband says "now, get dressed, we are going home for round 2".

[angelcent]

gojo who’s nosy and loves gossip. and he loves sharing it with you even more.

satoru always comes to you with the latest gossip amongst jujutsu sorcerers and the clans—bending his knees and leaning into your space as he whispers behind his large hand, telling you about what clan wife got caught cheating and with who. or when he doesn’t feel like working on his mission reports (which is almost always), he sits comfortably in his chair, leaning back on the rear legs, telling you how he heard that utahime’s been visiting tokyo often. shoko is conveniently always gone during this time. wonder what that’s about, huh? he says with a cheshire grin, and even with his blindfold on you can see the movement of his wiggling brows.

he often saunters into your office like he owns the place, silently setting down your favorite drink on your desk as he gulps on his melon soda—just to tell you about the crazy drama he overheard from some girls behind him in line at the convenience store. 

you have no idea why it’s always you who’s subjected to this, but the truth is, satoru just likes finding reasons to be around you. (also you’re just as nosy as he is and love his gossip. you just try to hide it. but he knows you!)

[credince--writes]

Scary Dog

You need a new printer. Sometimes you need to bring negotiation aids.

Useless, shitty little one-shot because I need something else to work on.

Konig x Medic!Reader

Scary dog privileges

Your pen tapped against the desk you sat at. The smell of sanitizer and printer ink was fresh on your nose.

And, well your skin too.

That goddamn printer, it was always breaking, half of the time you thought it would just catch fire.

It would be easier that way if it just did, then you'd be able to get a new one.

But, alas, you weren't the head bitch of the armed-with-alcohol-pads crew. That lovely position was reserved by Lud.

All the other doctors lovingly refer to him as Dud.

Because that is what he is.

A Dud.

A lazy, selfish, piece of-

You were getting sidetracked.

He would always deny your requests for a new printer, and at this point, it was a hindrance to your job.

The black ink splattered all over you, staining your shirt and skin was proof of that.

You prided yourself in your work,

your efficiency.

Your ability to get the things others couldn't get done, done.

Just so happened that because of this, you got the....

How could you phrase it?

Well,

you got the scary dogs.

They were big, and they looked mean as hell.

But all it took was a threatening glance and they were rolling over showing their soft puppy bellies to her.

Maybe it was the dum dums you brought back from America to give them as a treat for being a good patient.

"That's it!" You slapped your hands on your desk, throwing the muddled papers scatted across the floor as you swiped your arms across the desk.

All of the papers were useless, all thanks to that fucking printer.

Stomping out of your little office, you made your way through the hallway and into the main living space for the team.

"I need a dog!" You yell, catching everyone in the space's attention.

"What?" One of the men ask.

You promptly ignore him, scanning the room and walking- angrily - might you add to find the perfect scary dog.

"A big- scary fucking dog!" You flail your arms in the air.

And your eyes landed on him.

Oh.

He'd do.

He'd do just fine.

"König." You call out, sickly sweet.

He was already staring at you, giving you a cautious glance.

"Did you fight an octopus, doctor?" He asks.

His accent, it was thick.

Just like the rest of him, you suppose.

Music to your ears.

"Would you please accompany me to Doctor Dud?"

He stands, lifting his body to its natural heigh, towering above you.

Perfect.

"Is everything alright?"

"I just need you... to be my big scary dog." You smile.

That smile could make him do horrible things.

"Uh...?" He asks, confused.

"Be intimidating. Be my persuasion, can you do that for me? Please König?" You bat your eyelashes- not too much. A subtle blink or so.

His name falling off your lips.

He had to catch himself for falling forward as he zoned out, looking down at you as you so sweetly begged for his presence.

"Of course." He nodded.

"Great!" You grinned, that evil toothy Cheshire smile.

Pulling him along- not this his long stride took up two of yours- you stood outside of Dud's office. Knocking on the door twice, you pushed the door open and made eye contact with him.

He never really took the time to work with the special teams.

They were a little rowdy for him.

"What do I owe the pleasure....." His voice trailed off, looking up and meeting the narrow, deadly gaze of König.

"Oh, I think the printer is on the fritz again!" You laughed lightly, innocently.

Oh, how evil.

"... I can see that." He said.

"I think it would be best if I just got the new printer." You said, tilting your head to the side. "You see, König was in my office but he can't go about his day until his paperwork gets finished!" You laughed.

"Well... I don't think a new one is in the cards right now-"

"Oh no!" You fake pouted. "I'd hate to cause your mission to delay König." She glances up at him.

His eyes were fixed on Dud.

His presence loomed.

It was as if he sucked the heat from the room, leaving the air in a suffocating freeze.

"Oh- well-" Dud stammers.

"We wouldn't want to cause any inconveniences to König here, would we?" You ask innocently.

Dud swears that a red glint flashes in König's eyes.

"Of course not!" He all but heaves out, sweat collecting on his brow.

"So, new printer?" You ask happily.

"I'll have it brought down right away."

"Great!" You smile, turn, and quickly walk out of the door.

König doesn't move, opting to leave an impression by standing there in silence a few seconds longer, staring into his soul.

"König!" You call.

His head snaps back, releasing him from his trance. He spins on his heel and quickly exits the room, tailing you.

Man, maybe next you could get new linens!

[odo-apologist]

Every ENT character is the most character ever. Archer is a bitch he plays a fundamental role in the creation of the Federation he brings his dog on away missions which once causes a diplomatic incident he likes water polo he commits war crimes he saw a gazelle giving birth and implements it into his rousing speeches he had a wet dream about his first officer that included his dog's funeral he had to carry the soul of the creator of the main tenets of Vulcan philosophy in his head he gives a lecture on Tycho Brahe while getting his ass beaten during an interrogation scene. T'Pol is strict in her Vulcan beliefs she doesn't believe in time travel even as she's presented with irrefutable evidence and remains somewhat skeptical after experiencing it firsthand she is the funniest person on Enterprise she is more emotional than average Vulcans to the point that she had to have memories erased for causing her too much distress she could canonically pick up any of her crewmates and carry them bridal style she has Vulcan HIV she has it cured by the woman that later watches Spock and Kirk roll around in the sand in Amok Time she is technically canonically trans she is a recovering drug addict. Trip is a perfect gentleman he undergoes incredible emotional losses his favorite movies are Frankenstein Bride of Frankenstein and Son of Frankenstein he gets pregnant five episodes in he dies in the worst episode of the entire series (and the entire franchise) only to have that death retconned in the following tie-in novels he ran around the ship in his underwear he leaves the ship for a couple weeks only to come back after one person had been kidnapped another thrown in jail and the engines are on the verge of destruction and reacts like :/. Malcolm is gay he has 50 ex-girlfriends he has only had one friend in his life his own sister barely knows anything about him he dies alone he likes pineapple even though he's allergic to it he gets spacesick he worked as an agent for a top secret organization he's afraid of drowning he whined about getting a cold he had a spike driven through his leg and didn't complain at all he has a psychosexual obsession with a man he thinks is after his job and grows to respect once they had a homoerotic fight scene before witnessing him die. Hoshi is a linguistic prodigy she's the greatest contributor to the universal translator she has a panic attack on one of her first missions she ran a gambling ring she has a black belt in aikido and broke her superior's arm she has never been to the principal's office in her life she is afraid to use the transporter she became an empress in an alternate universe she is the only one who gets laid on Risa making her the first human to do so she reacted to the threat of getting worms injected into her brain to make her reveal secret information by spitting in her interrogator's face. Travis is the sweetest man ever he loves rock climbing he gets injured whenever he tries to use those skills he's a fan of ghost stories he grew up on a small freighter he gets neglected by the narrative his counterpart helps Hoshi become empress he works out when he's horny he dies in a alternate future where Earth is destroyed he's a movie buff who would probably love the Criterion Collection he likes to chill in a part of the ship with zero gravity which he calls "the sweet spot." Phlox grins like the Cheshire Cat he breaks doctor patient confidentiality to help figure out Malcolm's favorite food he goes crazy when the rest of the crew have to sleep through part of space because of how social his species is he has three wives who in turn have three husbands he responds to the news of one of his wives propositioning a crew member by being like "cool! have fun :]" he once nearly vivisects Travis because he's being affected by radiation and gets obsessed with knowing why the guy has a simple headache he has a menagerie in the middle of his sickbay. And they're all my best friends.

[the-kr8tor]

we need a Blob and Hobie alliance for like one thing they're tryna get from R, similar to Crowley and Hobie Of course this alliance is going to last from a few minutes to an hour or two depending on how stubborn R is, I feel like... After the tea has been spilled however they're going right back to bickering... "I made em spill, actually. you were just backup" (Angry bhbhbhhbhbhb noises) "shut up thats not true"

Yay Blob request! Thank you, angel ❤️

Paring: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Blob the symbiote cat AU, cat symbiote AU, CW description of illness. FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

“You're sick, love.” Hobie says whilst he leans on the doorway of your makeshift office, aka your dark room that has your ac blasting and your humidifier blowing right across your sweaty, puckered face. “Rest, you can finish that tomorrow.”

“‘m not sick.” You declare, clearly sick, nose congested, sneeze rising up to your throat. “I have to finish this today so I have a free day tomorrow—!” A loud sneeze interrupts your sentence. The noise finally awakens the beast on your lap. Your typing hand briefly brushes along Blob's slime-like body, black tendrils wrapping along your wrist as if he's trying to keep your hand in place. But alas, you have work to do. “Sorry, Blobie, pet later okay?”

The alien snaps his big milky eyes wide open, disgruntled is an understatement, he expects to be coddled the second he wakes up. He meows, agitated, a deep roar that doesn't even faze you.

“In a minute, Blob.” Blob, you haven't called him that since he tried to bite a chuck off of Hobie's guitar. Speaking of said man, he saunters inside, eyebrows furrowed. Blob would open his maw at the close proximity of Hobie, but the alien has been around you two long enough to notice what's happening. Blob's big eyes flick between your sickly form to Hobie's concerned ones.

“At least drink some meds.” The foil packaging crinkles as he places it next to your laptop. A second later a cup of water that has you looking up at him through the thick fog of fever. “Drink—”

“I'm not sick.” You stubbornly huff.

Hobie sighs, palm reaching down to your clammy forehead. Within a second, your fever seeps through his skin, searing heat making him flinch away and has him more worried. “Love, drink, please.”

Blob, ever the sweetheart (just for you) leaps up to your keyboard, blank eyes staring at you intensely. He opens his mouth, jagged rows of teeth showing, long snake-like tongue flicking from side to side.

“Are you threatening to eat me, Blob?” You sniff, glaring at the blobby alien in front of you. “I'm working right now, so can you two please give me some space?” Your tone isn't even angry nor convincing. Yet, the two rivals move away from your feverish form.

Blob shuts his large mouth, hopping away, looking back once before following Hobie outside. Hobie keeps a close eye on you through the open door while he grows wary of the alien that is conveniently near biting distance from his ankles.

Leaning on the back of the settee, arms folded over his chest, Hobie thinks of a way to get you to finally rest. Or at least take some medicine. To his surprise, Blob hops right next to him. He sits all prim and proper on the back of the couch, white eyes narrowed at your hunched form.

Hobie nods once at the so-called cat, “you got any ideas?”

Blob doesn't hiss, or even scowl at him. Instead, he meows lowly, still vastly different from a regular cat's tone but close to it.

“You've got an idea then?”

Blob's black gooey tendrils inch closer to Hobie, to which he flinches away. “No, never in a million fuckin' years. Get a better idea, you parasite.”

Blob chirps, a sound that Hobie has never heard the alien make. He thinks you've never heard of it too. He blinks, smirking. “Can you do that again?”

With a Cheshire cat smile, Blob looks at Hobie mischievously.

—

You have no idea how you got into bed with the covers properly tucked around you. A minute ago you were cooing at the chirping Blob, his eyes were so cute that you forgot that he can wrap you around his tendrils. With your vision filled with nothing but black gooey skin, you blink and suddenly you're in bed with a thermometer in your mouth.

Hobie checks your temperature whilst you wrap your mind around at what happened. Blob is on your chest, guarding over you as if you can move under the thick blankets.

“38.5.” Hobie winces. Eyes full of worry, Blob sports the same look, he lays down on top of you, blinking slowly, tails tucked under him.

You frown, feeling the heat under your eyes, “I'm sick.” Finally admitting your illness.

“I know you are, love.” Hobie brings his palm over your cheek, his cool skin grants you reprieve from the fever clawing at your body. You lean into his touch, nodding as he gives you your medicine. “Sleep, we'll be 'ere when you wake up.”

As you drift off to sleep, head laying on Hobie's thigh while he soothingly rubs your head, Blob purrs on top of you, tongue peeking between his sharp teeth. His eyes says it all, “no thank you?”

“You were a good distraction,” Hobie whispers.

Blob stands up, eyes narrowed into slits, huffing and puffing angrily.

“Fine, thank you.” Hobie scoffs the words out. Blob makes biscuits on top of the thick blanket, nails purposely digging into the cloth, stitches coming undone. “C’mon, that's my favourite, you fuckin' gremlin.”

[muzaktomyears]

The man who was there the day the Beatles broke up

Mal Evans was the Fab Four’s roadie, fixer and friend. Paul McCartney confided in him when the band split, while John Lennon relied on him to guard his life. A new book tells his story

The Beatles’ lingering tensions finally caught up to them during a meeting among John, Paul and George at 3 Savile Row on September 10 1969. As Mal and Neil [Aspinall, who ran the Beatles’ company Apple Corps] observed, John took particular issue with what he perceived as Paul’s megalomania, saying that, “If you look back on the Beatles albums, good or bad or whatever you think of ’em, you’ll find that most times if anybody has got extra time it’s you! For no other reason than you worked it like that.” For Mal, the conversation must have been pure agony. He idolised Paul, who bore the brunt of the meeting’s vitriol.

In his own defence, Paul protested that he had “tried to allow space on albums for John’s songs, only to find that John hadn’t written any”.

With the idea of recording a new album seemingly off the table, John suggested that they produce a Christmas single instead. After all, he reasoned, their annual holiday fan club record would be due before long. When this idea was met with silence and indifference, John soberly concluded, “I guess that’s the end of the Beatles.”

As horrible as the experience must have been for Mal, panic hadn’t set in just yet. During the past 15 months, Ringo and George had quit the band at various times, only to be coaxed back. But ten days later it all spilled out again at a meeting at Apple. Mal and Allen Klein (their manager after the death of Brian Epstein) were there, along with Yoko, Neil and the boys. For his part, George was on speakerphone from Cheshire, where he was visiting his ailing mother. The topic at hand was a new agreement with Capitol, which Klein was understandably eager to ink.

As Mal observed, Paul began to enumerate the group’s upcoming opportunities, including a series of intimate gigs and a possible television special. In each instance, John said, “No, no, no,” before telling Paul, “Well, I think you’re daft.” Eventually, he blurted out that he wanted a “divorce”. “What do you mean?” a stunned Paul asked. “The group’s over,” John replied. “I’m leaving.”

At this point, Paul recalled, “Everyone blanched except John, who coloured a little, and said, ‘It’s rather exciting. It’s like I remember telling Cynthia I wanted a divorce.’ ”

Afterwards, Mal and Paul returned to McCartney’s home, where they retreated to the garden, still trying to process what had transpired. Paul remained hopeful that John might change his mind, that the Beatles would continue unabated. But Mal knew better. As with George, Mal had reasoned that “all of them had left the group at one time or another, starting with Ringo’’. But when “John came into the office and said, ‘The marriage is over! I want a divorce,’ that was the final thing. That’s what really got to Paul, you know, because I took Paul home and I ended up in the garden crying my eyes out.”

That night with Lennon and Phil Spector in 1973, when happiness was not a warm gun

Mal took great pleasure in spending long hours in John’s company, enjoying the Beatle’s undivided attention, as opposed to sharing him with Paul, George and Ringo. “It was fascinating,” said Mal, who by this point was living in LA and writing his own songs, “because John was talking to me like I was a songwriter, and that was incredible. For the first time, John and I really communicated, whereas, when it was the four of them, John was always the hardest to talk to. I always thought that when John stopped insulting me, we had fallen out as friends.” But, he added, referring to John’s teasing, “The more he likes you, the more he takes the mickey out of you.”

Yet, as Mal soon discovered, working with John during this period would prove to be a chore — incomparable, in fact, to their touring years together, when the Beatles were often confined to the relative safety of a hotel suite. When he was in LA, John could often be found at the Sunset Strip’s Rainbow Bar and Grill, which had emerged as his de facto headquarters [during a period of heavy drinking which Lennon ironically referred to as the Lost Weekend but actually lasted 18 months.] With musicians like John, Harry (Nilsson), Ringo, Keith Moon, Alice Cooper and Micky Dolenz adopting the Rainbow as their regular watering hole, they had taken to calling themselves the Hollywood Vampires, a nickname that evoked the night hours they spent guzzling hooch in the bar’s loft space.

On one of his most harrowing evenings in Los Angeles, Mal had accompanied John and Phil Spector to the Rainbow. At one point, John walked Phil to his car, assuring Mal that he would return shortly. “About a half hour goes by, and I start worrying and go outside looking for John — no sign,” Mal later wrote. “I’d lost track of a Beatle for a day. What had happened, I found out the following evening, was that when he’d seen Phil off, a few hippie fans of his took him in tow, and John, who had just moved into a flat, couldn’t remember the address, nor his or my phone numbers. [John] eventually turn[ed] up, but not before I’d had a few irate words from Yoko, who phoned me from New York shouting, ‘I thought you were John’s bodyguard — why don’t you guard his body?’ ”

At a loss for words, Mal admitted that “I never really thought of myself as a bodyguard to anybody, but I suppose over the years that had been part of the gig. Anyway, they were all grown up, with very strong minds of their own as to what they wanted to do, and I certainly didn’t expect them to hold themselves accountable to me.”

That December, as work on Back to Mono proceeded, John and Phil shifted their project to the Record Plant West. The change of recording studios had everything to do with John’s and Phil’s antics having gotten them evicted from their previous studio, A&M. At one point, Nilsson and Moon, in a drunken stupor, had urinated onto the recording console, leaving the electronics in an ungodly mess.

Things began innocently enough after John and Phil completed their December 11 session at the Record Plant West, where they took a pass at Chuck Berry’s You Can’t Catch Me. As Mal looked on, the two men, drunk to the gills, were horsing around the Las Vegas Room. In a nod to the early days of Beatlemania when the Beatles would climb on Mal when they heard they were at the top of the charts, John decided to hop onto Mal’s back for a piggyback ride. Unfortunately, Phil opted to get in on the act, too. Mal’s physical dexterity in late 1973 was a far cry from that of the early 1960s, and he had difficulty sustaining the weight of two men atop his aching back. As always, Mal observed, “Phil goes a little too far,” and in the ensuing ruckus, “he karate-chopped me on the nose, my spectacles went flying, and I got tears in my eyes I can tell you. I turned around with a real temper and told Phil, ‘Don’t ever lay another finger on me, man.’ ”

And that’s when Phil, “maybe to re-establish himself in his own eyes”, Mal thought, pulled out a handgun. To the roadie’s surprise, the producer “fired it off under our noses, deafening us both, the bullet ricocheting around the room and landing between my feet”.

John was understandably incensed, exclaiming to Phil, “If you’re gonna kill me, kill me, but don’t take away my hearing — it’s me living!”

Until that moment, Mal and John had believed that Spector’s handgun was a toy. At one point earlier in the evening, Phil had cocked the trigger and aimed the weapon at John’s head. As a result of the incident in the Las Vegas Room, “John’s fear of guns generally was doubled.” For his part, Mal vowed to stay clear of Phil. He would attend the recording sessions in deference to John, but that was it.

In nearly the same instant that Mal decided to banish Phil from his world forever, he and John were hustled off to [co-founder of the Record Plant] Gary Kellgren’s house for a lavish going-away party in honour of Mal, who was preparing to make his return to Sunbury. For the occasion, Phil had arranged for Mal to receive “a beautiful large cake, which must have measured four feet by three feet, so nicely decorated with a large bottle of Napoleon brandy, [and] a lot of comic figures like Superman and Batman,” Mal wrote. The sumptuous dessert was inscribed, “To Mal, my pal, love, Philip.”

As it turned out, the madcap producer’s greatest gift to Mal that night came in the form of his absence. “Phil, to show the most understanding side of his nature, did not come to the party,” said Mal. “He knew if he had, he’d be outrageous and spoil it for me. But he set it up and didn’t come — a true mark of affection from a friend.”

The party came to a sudden close, though, when John, having grown blind drunk, planted a telephone into the sticky remains of the cake.

Meet the Beatles: four days in Mal’s life with the moptops

Paul (1962) In July 1962, Mal and his family attended the celebration of the “Wavertree Mystery”, an annual event held to commemorate the anonymous donation of a local playground back in 1895. Mal later recalled that, “Lil and I were proudly pushing Gary in his pram when she turned to me and said, ‘There’s a weird guy over there — keeps staring at us. Now he looks like a real Cavernite to me.’ On turning, I was to see Paul standing there, unshaven, with a denim jacket thrown over his shoulder and chewing on a toffee apple.” After engaging in the niceties of introducing his wife to the scruffy musician, Mal took Paul for a jaunt. “We spent the rest of the day together,” Mal wrote, “Paul and I daring each other to go on things like the parachute drop and other displays that took nerve, neither of us accepting the challenge.” At one point, they stopped in front of an automobile exhibition. Paul announced to Mal that “one of these days I’m going to own one of those cars’’, pointing to one very humble saloon-type car.

George (1962) After shows at the Cavern, Mal would introduce his wife Lily to the rest of the band. “On one occasion,” Mal recalled, “Lil and I bought the fish and chips for the group and ourselves, as they could only muster enough money between them to pay for the teas.” Although she had her misgivings about Mal’s involvement in their lives, she enjoyed getting to know the bandmates. “After gigs,” she later recalled, “George would come back to our house for bacon and eggs. He sometimes came back before Mal to keep me company. I’d be washing baby clothes and nappies or ironing. I liked him the best.” Lily fondly remembered the time she pushed the bangs from Harrison’s face, saying, “Let’s see what it looks like with your hair back. I like that better.” But George wasn’t having it. He combed his hair forward, telling her, “That’s the way I have to wear it; it’s the Beatle cut.”

Ringo (1965) Driving up the M1, Mal and Ringo stopped at a roadside café for lunch. “We were sitting at the counter,” Mal recalled, “and the chap next to me had obviously been trying to make up his mind whether it really was Ringo with me. Suddenly, he turned to me and said, ‘I don’t care if it is him or not.’ Ringo nearly choked with laughter as I teased the fellow, saying, ‘No, it’s not him. But it gets terribly embarrassing taking him anywhere because everybody mistakes him for Ringo!’”

John (1964) John held no illusions about the Beatles’ behaviour, later admitting that, “We were bastards. You can’t be anything else in such a pressurised situation, and we took it out on Neil and Mal. They took a lot of shit from us because we were in such a shitty position. It was hard work and somebody had to take it. Those things are left out, about what bastards we were. F***ing big bastards, that’s what the Beatles were. You have to be a bastard to make it, and that’s a fact. And the Beatles were the biggest bastards on earth. We were the Caesars. Who’s going to knock us when there’s a million pounds to be made, all the handouts, the bribery, the police, and the hype?”

During a flight to Massachusetts for the September 12 show at the Boston Garden, Mal’s long-standing feelings of intimidation around John came to a head. Sitting at the rear of the plane, he broke down in tears, telling a reporter that “John got kind of cross with me — just said I should go f*** off. No reason, ya know. But I love the man. John is a powerful force. Sometimes he’s rough, if you know what I mean, man. But there’s no greater person that I know.” In many ways, it was as if Mal’s lack of self-confidence, a key aspect of his persona for the balance of his life, had returned with a vengeance. Later John approached Mal and embraced him.

Extracted from Living the Beatles Legend by Kenneth Womack (Mudlark £25), published on November 14.

(source)

[reyl0ct]

Possible DBD fanfic?

The Dead Boy Detectives now have a boss lady to answer to, The Night Nurse, and she is very strict about no magical beings inside her work place. Something about 'proper paperwork' And the boys are trying to respect her request, really they are, but they can't account for The Cat King who has no idea about the boy's new work situation.

It's a normal night, as the 3 return back to the office. Another case successfully closed as they shut the door and before they can even congratulate each on a job well done a familiar voice filters through.

"Thank Gods you're back I was so bored! You really should invest in some more interesting reading material, maybe some of those romance novels~"

All 3 of them snap their head in the direction of Edwin's chair, where an all too pleased Cat King sits with his feet propped on Edwin's desk.

Edwin is the first to speak "What are you doing here?" He can feel the panic already swirling. The Cat King merely grins his signature grin as he stands, graceful and effortlessly. The office is small, so it doesn't take much for the Cat king to make his way into Edwin's personal space as he always does. "Oh you know, I was in the neighborhood. Thought I'd come see how my favorite Ghosts were doing~"

"No, You really can't be here, you have to leave-"

Crystal and Charles here a noise come from outside the door and their eyes widened in panic.

"There's no time! The night nurse is here already!" Charles nearly squeaks. Crystal glances around and with quick thinking points to the closet. "Quick! Hide him!" Crystal and Charles are now holding the door to the outside in an attempt to give Edwin some time.

The Cat King seems puzzled, but before he can even ask who or what is a 'Night Nurse' Edwin has grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the closet with him. The night nurse is immediately forgotten in the Cat King's mind as his eyes glow in the dim light of the closet and a near feral Cheshire like grin spreads across his face.

"Oh Edwin~ have you finally decided to take me up on the offer of having some fun? Are we going to play 7 minutes in heaven?" he nearly purrs, once again invading Edwin's personal space. Edwin lightly slaps his wandering paws away and gives him a stern glare.

"No! and keep your voice down or you're going to get me in trouble with my superior!" Edwin whisper yells. Before the Cat King can add in any of his usual lewd commentary Edwin holds up a hand to silence him.

"We've made a deal with the Lost & Found department. The Dead Boy Detective agency is free to continue our work in solving cases and avoiding the afterlife as long as we are under proper management. The Night Nurse is our new Boss and she is very strict about her rules, especially 'No magical beings in the office'!"

Edwin turns his attention away from the Cat King, promptly ignoring how close they are in proximity in favor of trying to peak through the cracks and listen in on the conversation between his coworkers and superior. The Cat King only seems to be moving closer and Edwin is desperate to put some space between them.

"I can't know for certain what She would do to us or to you for that matter if you're caught here." why did he feel the need to include the cat king in that? Since when did Edwin start to care about his safety.

"Oh Edwin, I didn't know you cared so much~" The cat king purrs. Edwin doesn't have a chance to bite back a reply because suddenly the closet door handle is being turned....

To be continued????

[violetsaffron5]

NSFW Gojo Week (4)

Ao3 • Discord 18+ • Social Media • Series Masterlists

Pairing: Gojo x f!Reader

As the executive assistant, it's your job to make sure the company anniversary event goes on without a hitch. Your boss, however, has another idea for your talents.

cw: possessive gojo, power dynamic, boss x employee/ceo x assistant, edging, degradation, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, hate sex (kinda)

words: 2.2k

Masterlist • Day 3 • Day 5

Sometimes you hate your boss. You really, really do.

He loves to hear the sound of his own voice, loves to tease and poke fun at you any chance he gets. He’s also impatient, rash, has no regard for others and the authority they hold.

And sometimes he’s just plain mean.

But god, if he isn’t fucking sexy.

White hair tousled just right, crystalline eyes that shine bright with frosted lashes. When he smiles, his eyes crinkle slightly in the corner adding to his perfection. An absolute Adonis if you’ve ever seen one.

Sometimes you forget how much you hate him. Especially when he hands you his black credit card telling you to find the perfect dress for your company's upcoming fiftieth-anniversary event.

Everyone in the company attends these events and as the CEO’s personal assistant, your attendance is required. You need to radiate elegance, beauty, and grace to fit in with the elite echelon that will also be present.

It’s important that those with status and power within the company look their best. The men will be in hand-crafted, tailored suits, and the woman in luxury designer gowns.

You know when Gojo tells you to pick something out for the event that he expects you to choose something classy, yet sexy. It’ll show skin, but not too much.

He says it’s because he doesn’t appreciate the way other men leer at you. Part of you has always wondered if it’s something else.

When it comes to Satoru Gojo, there are two things you’re sure of:

First, he doesn’t have a partner. Being one of Tokyo's most eligible bachelors, a playboy like him doesn’t seem to be interested in settling down.

Second, you don’t miss the looks he gives you every day in the office.

You notice the way he watches you at your desk, just outside his office, from time to time, chewing on your pen as you listen intently to whoever is on the other line trying to schedule a meeting with him. You’ve also noticed the way he focuses on your lips as you talk, sitting across his desk squeezing your thighs together, squirming under his intense gaze. And you can feel the hole he’s burning into your ass when you walk away, hips swaying back to your own space.

On the night of the anniversary event you wear a black, floor-length dress with two slits up to your thighs, pinches at your waist perfectly, and shows off your bust. You haven’t seen Gojo yet, but you’re sure he’ll appear at any moment.

All of the board members, higher-ups, and competitors are here tonight to celebrate the company's accomplishments throughout the years. In the little circle you stand in talking with several of them, you recognize one in particular who has come to see Gojo several times over the years.

Naoya Zenin, with his bleach-blonde hair and designer tux, hands you a drink with a Cheshire grin while looking you up and down, “You know, you look great for your age. You should wear things that accentuate your womanly features more often.”

You tilt your head to the side and blink several times at his backhanded compliment before gaining your composure and accepting his drink. You would love nothing more than to give him a taste of his own medicine right now, but anything you say or do would reflect poorly on the business, and now isn’t the time for that.

Before Naoya has a chance to insult you again, a large hand snakes around your waist, pulling you into him.

“What’s going on here?” Gojo’s tone is icy, accusatory, but for what, you’re not sure.

“Oh nothing much,” Naoya says eyes flickering between the two of you, “Just chatting with your personal assistant.”

You glare at him while Gojo grabs the drink Naoya gave you from your hand, sniffing it quickly before handing it back to his competitor.

“Those of us presenting awards tonight aren’t allowed to drink until after the ceremony. There’s still plenty of work that needs to be done before we can relax.”

Gojo swiftly presses the drink back into Naoya’s hand causing it to spill all over his suit, causing the man to roll his eyes and grumble before walking away.

Turning to Gojo, you smile meekly while adjusting his tie. As expected, he looks better than ever in his fitted black suit, “Thanks for getting me out of that situation. That guy’s an asshole.”

He’s watching you with an expression you can’t read, but he does nod slowly in acknowledgment, “I need your help getting some last-minute changes organized before the announcements and awards are presented.”

Things like this aren’t uncommon, having to change the presentation or make other small things so everything runs smoothly at these events, so you studiously walk with Gojo to the elevator, making your way to his office on the top floor.

He keeps his arm locked around your waist in the elevator, and all it takes is one look. One simple look of you looking up to meet his azure gaze, eyes staring at your lips before closing the gap and pressing his lips to yours.

It doesn’t take long until you’re laying on your boss's desk, legs spread wide, cunt on full display as curls two fingers, hitting your sweet spot.

“G-Gojo, please,” You’re begging for the release he’s denied you of several times already, before feeling a hard smack to your ass, causing you to yelp and arch your back from the sting.

“I’ve already told you. When we fuck, call me Satoru.”

Tears are forming in the corner of your eyes, hips thrusting up to meet his hand, searching for anything to press against your aching clit as you whine, “Sa-Satoru, please, please!”

The top of your dress has been pulled down, breasts exposed, and bouncing with every thrust. The hem has been lifted over your hips, bunched up at your waist. But aside from his tie having been loosened and a few of the top buttons undone, he’s still totally clothed.

“Please what, baby?” He cocks his head to the side, a saccharine grin plastered on his face.

Your brain is mush at this point, but you don’t care. Rutting your hips up, he chuckles, letting his thumb slowly graze over your clit, just long enough to tease before moving it away.

“I need - fuck - I need to cum, please.”

He quirks an eyebrow before cooing, “You need to cum?”

A soft whine leaves your lips as you shake your head yes.

Satoru snickers rubbing his thumb over your neglected clit in small tight circles, “See, I don’t really think you do. You need water for hydration, air to breathe. But you don’t need to cum.”

Your legs tremble and twitch, the thread that’s formed in your belly threatening to snap at any moment. And he knows, which is why he removes his thumb from your clit at the last possible second.

Tears well in the corner of your eye as you gasp out several obscenities at the loss of stimulation, unsure of what you even said when your back arches off the desk.

“It would have been better to say you deserve to cum. But even then, that begs the question.”

You look at him with furrowed brows and decide you really do fucking hate him. You knew you did, but you’re always blinded when he’s nice and generous to you.

Even though he had the face of an angel, he’s actually the devil and you should have known as soon as he kissed you, this is how your time together was going to go.

“Do you deserve to cum?” He asks seriously, pumping his fingers in and out of your core.

“Y-yes.”

His eyes widen as he laughs - laughs - at your answer.

“Really? Do you really think so? With the way you smile at Nanami and Suguru, and laugh at their jokes in the break room? That I wouldn’t see you were giving that pathetic, fucking Zenin bastard ‘fuck me’ eyes when he handed you that cocktail?”

You huff at his words, sucking in a sharp breath between your teeth, “Is your ego really so fragile you think I’d flirt with any of them over you?”

He increases his pace at your remark, rubbing his long fingers along the spot on the inside that has you seeing stars, legs trembling once again from having been denied your release only seconds or minutes prior, you’re not sure.

“Ask nicely.”

“What?”

He glares at you, “Ask nicely and I’ll think about letting you cum.”

“Please, please, please, I’ll do anything!” You whine, so pathetic, so pretty with the thought of your release being within reach, “Please fuck me, please let me cum.”

“Fine. You’re so fuckin’ needy.” He breathes, withdrawing his hand from your core, you whimper at the loss of being filled as he works to undo his belt, the prongs clinking against the buckle as his slacks fall to the floor.

You sit up on your elbows, watching his cock spring free as soon as he releases it from the confine of his briefs. You snake your lip between your teeth at the sight, looking up to meet his cocky grin as he pumps himself a few times.

Of course, he has a dick just as pretty as his face, huge, and the tip perfectly pink.

Satoru hovers over you, the blunt tip of his cock slipping past your entrance as you inhale sharply from being stretched. He goes slower than you expect, savoring every moment of entering you for the first time. His large hands grip your waist so tight there’s sure to be bruises later, in an effort to stop himself from bottoming out immediately.

“Baby, you’re so wet,” He mutters, slowly moving his hips, letting you adjust to the feeling of being filled by him. So different from his attitude just moments before when he was hellbent on edging you within an inch of your life.

He rocks his hips, gently, shallowly a few times before sliding all the way out and slamming back in; moaning, throwing his head back as lewd squelching echoes in the room.

“Look at you,” Satoru coos, “Such a cockslut. Letting her boss fuck her brains out.” You clench around him automatically at his words, and he hisses, leaning over you. “Ha - you like that?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You moan out as he increases his pace, watching as your tits bounce in time with his thrusts.

Grabbing your legs, he throws them over his shoulder, leaning down and crashing his lips with yours, literally folding you in half. You cry out in pleasure at just how deep he’s able to go, allowing him to slip his tongue past your lips.

Just like you’ve always imagined, his lips are soft and full against yours; his kisses are needy and hurried, like if he doesn’t do this now, he may never get the chance again.

“Don’t cum.” He demands as you clench around him, heat in your core building and building once again.

Your eyes widen at his request, nails digging into the nape of his neck and tugging his hair, “What? Why?”

His long arms reach across the desk, hands gripping the mahogany so hard on the other side his knuckles are white, snapping his hips into yours as he fucks you faster, harder, and your eyes are rolling to the back of your head as you whine and moan against him trying your hardest to hold back your impending orgasm.

Removing your legs from his shoulders, he easily lifts you from the desk, kissing feverishly as he walks you over to the full-length windows in his office.

You gasp, as your back hits the cool window, your back and ass on full display for all of Tokyo - of course, they won't be able to actually see it, considering you’re on the top floor of one of the tallest buildings in the city.

“You’re coming with me on all my business trips from now on,” He sighs as you kiss along his neck jaw, nipping at his earlobe while he pistons his hips into yours, “Been wanting to do this for so long.”

He’s fucking you within an inch of your life, and unable to hold back any further, shattering around him as your mouth falls slack, vision going white from the intensity.

“Shhh, baby,” He coos, “We gotta get back s-soon.”

His hips falter and stutter against yours, feeling just how hard you’re gripping around him, sloppily kissing into you as he lets out a low groan, finding his own release not long after you.

You’re still against the window, panting as he continues fucking you through his release, coming down from your high. Both of your fluids dripping obscenely onto the floor below.

As you work on catching your breath, Satoru helps you stand on shaky legs, lazily kissing your lips as you hold onto his arms and shoulder for support. Leaning against the window, you wipe his sweat-covered bangs off his forehead before removing the lipstick stains littering his jaw and neck with your thumb.

Just as the two of you finish adjusting your clothes, someone rasps on his office before opening it.

Satoru is quick to cage you in against the window, hiding your face from whoever just entered.

Nanami, judging by the sound of his voice, “Gojo. The awards are about to start.” “Uh, yeah. We’ll - I’ll be down in a minute.”

[tinytinyblogs]

Feeling a spark? Me too.

The feelings were mutual! They found out you like them too.

(Ot8 reaction, non-idol)

Hyung line, Maknae line

Stray kids masterlist here

Han

Your laptop screen glowed against the darkening office backdrop, beckoning you with the siren song of unfinished work. But the gentle strum of Han's voice kept pulling your attention away, its melodic cadence a stark contrast to the urgent tapping of your fingers on the keyboard. "So, homebody or social butterfly?" he prodded, his smile twinkling beneath the office lights. You glanced up, catching his hopeful gaze for a fleeting moment before returning to the blinking cursor on your screen. "Both," you mumbled, hoping a curt answer would send him back to his own tasks. Han hummed, seemingly unfazed by your one-word response. "Ah, a versatile one, I see." His voice was a feather tickling your focus, making it impossible to concentrate on the tangled web of spreadsheets before you. Frustration tinged your fingertips as you pressed them harder against the keyboard, the clattering an attempt to drown out his persistent questions. "Fancy restaurant or cozy cafe?" he chimed in, completely undeterred. This time, you paused, unable to ignore him entirely. A sigh escaped your lips as you met his eyes, a playful challenge dancing within them. "Can you be more specific? What's this all about?" He chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Just answer the question, sunshine. No further details required." You rolled your eyes, a playful smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "Fine. Cozy cafe, then. But seriously, Han, what are you up to?"

He leaned closer, pushing the laptop screen down slightly until you could only see his face filling the space before you. His grin spread into a full-blown Cheshire cat smile. "Very romantic or laugh-until-your-sides-hurt kind of date?" he whispered, his finger playfully shushing you. His question hung in the air, punctuated by the silent thud of your heart against your ribs. A date? Han, the office prankster, the source of endless puns and witty quips, was asking you on a date? You stared at him, a million thoughts swirling in your head. Both? you wanted to answer, a mirroring of his earlier response. Both romantic and hilarious, because that's what Han was: a bundle of contradictions, a walking enigma you couldn't seem to keep your eyes off. But instead, you simply replied, your voice barely a whisper, "Both." A warm hum rose from Han's throat, a counterpoint to the rhythmic tap of your fingers on the keyboard. He nodded, a thoughtful crease marring his forehead for a moment before dissolving into a satisfied smile. "Right, I could actually manage both," he muttered, almost to himself, yet loud enough for you to catch. Han looked up, his gaze bouncing between you and the glow of your laptop screen. "So, when are you done? When will you be ready?" You blinked, glancing back and forth, your mind scrambling to catch up. "Ready for what?" He chuckled, a soft rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

"For our date, of course! I’m finished with your personal preference survey. Turns out, your friend didn't know much about you or what you really liked, seeing as you haven't been on a date before. Well, neither have I, honestly. So, I figured I'd ask, make sure we get it right." His smile deepened, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "And hey, guess what? Your friend spilled the beans. She said you like me. Mutual feelings, right? So let's do this," he declared, his voice filled with an infectious enthusiasm. "Let's become the best couple this world has ever seen!" He puffed out his chest playfully, his words hanging in the air like a challenge. You stared at him, incredulous. Your friend, the blabbermouth, had actually blurted out your secret crush? And here was Han, proposing a date as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Han shifted in his chair, the creak echoing the nervous drumbeat in his chest. He sat up straight, a slight tremor in his hands as he leaned closer. Looking straight into your eyes, he saw galaxies reflected back, swirling with a mix of surprise and something he dared to hope was interest. "But um," he began, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. He cleared his throat, the sound rasping against the charged silence. "If it's okay, if I could... maybe hold your hand?" His breath hitched, caught in the web of nerves. "Or give you a hug? You know," he fumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, a blush creeping up his cheeks, "a kiss maybe?"

Felix

The notification flashed on your phone, a simple question that sent your heart into a tap-dancing frenzy. 'Can I come to your place?' it read, from Felix, your sunshine-haired friend with a secret that mirrored your own. Now, here he was, standing awkwardly in your doorway, clutching a plate piled high with your absolute favorite cookies - his own handiwork, the aroma a sugary confession swirling in the air. The apartment had suddenly shrunk, the silence pressing in like a thick fog. You offered a mumbled thanks, accepting the cookies with shaking hands. You settled on the couch, the TV droning on like an unwanted guest. Your eyes wandered to the screen, but your mind was in a galaxy far, far away, populated only by butterflies and Felix's nervous smile. He, too, seemed adrift in a sea of unspoken words. He fidgeted, cleared his throat, finally breaking the silence with a hesitant, "Hey." His eyes flickered to the TV, then back to you, sparkling like stars under the city lights. "I heard something today," he mumbled, the sentence heavy with unsaid emotion. "And it made me so happy." He paused, the silence stretching like taffy between you. "What is it?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the artificial laughter on the screen. He chewed on his lip, a battle raging behind his sunshine eyes. "Actually," he started, then stopped, restarting with a sigh, "I've been wrestling with myself, trying to figure out what to do. This feels so awkward, but…" He turned slowly, his gaze locking onto yours. "Is it true, what they say? Do you… like me?"

The silence sat heavy between you, a thick fog obscuring the usual ease of your friendship. The words you couldn't speak, the feelings you kept under lock and key, threatened to shatter the perfect picture you'd painted of this relationship. You saw the flicker of doubt in Felix's eyes, the echo of your own fear reflected in his gaze. Then, like a whisper carried on the wind, his voice broke through the stillness. "I feel the same," he admitted, his voice rough with unspoken emotions. "I just... I didn't know how to tell you." The confession hung in the air, a tangible force that sent your heart into a desperate tap dance against your ribs. The forgotten TV, its flickering images mere background noise, became irrelevant. All that mattered was the pounding rhythm of your shared anticipation, the echo of a wish whispered into the universe. "I almost thought it was just a joke," he continued, a shy smile blooming on his lips, "a wishful dream that couldn't possibly be real." He reached for the TV remote, the click silencing the distracting chatter. No more hiding behind the screen, no more excuses to avoid the truth that shimmered between you. His eyes, pools of nervous hope, held your gaze captive. "Is it alright," he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, "if I take you on a date? A real one, where we can actually talk, where this isn't just a stolen moment between friends?"

He turned on his axis, facing you fully, a hesitant smile dancing on his lips. His eyes scanned your face, searching for a trace of doubt, a flicker of fear. Then, ever so gently, he reached out, his hand finding yours like a missing puzzle piece. As his fingers intertwined with yours, a warmth, both physical and emotional, surged through you. The burden of unspoken feelings, the weight of a secret kept hidden in the shadows, lifted with a sigh. In its place, a delicate flower bloomed within you, its petals unfolding with trepidation and joy. "It's okay, right?" he murmured, his voice soft as a melody. "If we… if we took this to another level, if we let this spark, this undeniable chemistry, ignite into something more?" His words sent shivers down your spine, and a whisper, as fragile as a butterfly's wing, escaped your lips, "It would be nice." The sentence trailed off, almost lost in the air, as if your voice wasn't yet daring to believe the truth it echoed. But you repeated it, a little firmer this time, your eyes locked on his, "It would be… nice to be more than just friends." The words, simple yet laden with unspoken promises, painted a smile across his face. It bloomed like a sunrise, chasing away the last vestiges of doubt and filling the room with the warm glow of possibilities. "Then you are mine now," he whispered, his thumb brushing a gentle caress against your skin. The possessiveness in his voice wasn't demanding, but rather a tender declaration, a promise to cherish this blossoming relationship.

Seungmin

The moment your eyes caught Seungmin across the room, your feet seemed to pirouette before your conscious mind could catch up. You whipped around, faster than a startled rabbit, unsure why you suddenly craved distance from your longtime crush. The untold feelings, simmering like a secret potion within you, rebelled against this abrupt retreat. "Avoiding me, I see," a familiar voice startled you from your musings. Seungmin, in a t-shirt clinging to his form like a second skin, stood behind you, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. "I'm not!" you sputtered, turning back, desperate to mask your flustered heart with nonchalance. "Then why the Olympic-worthy pirouette every time our eyes meet, even when you're mid-conversation?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You practically warp speed away, leaving a trail of confused dust bunnies in your wake." A blush threatened to engulf your face as you stammered, "I'm not avoiding you, Seungmin." He only hummed in response, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Avoiding a crush, perhaps?" The smirk reached his eyes now, crinkling the corners with genuine good humor. Your jaw dropped, eyes wide like saucers. "What are you talking about?" you parried, hoping your feigned confusion would hold some water. Seungmin chuckled, a warm, melodious sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about," he said, leaning closer.

"Someone with a loose tongue spilled your little secret, the one you were so sure was under lock and key." The silence after Seungmin's revelation stretched until it threatened to snap, heavy with a thousand unspoken truths. He let his hand rest casually in his pocket, watching the way his words had sent your mind pirouetting like a ballerina on caffeine. You felt adrift, unmoored from the familiar shores of denial. "Then what do you want now?" your voice caught on a tremor, the question tumbling out more as a defense than a genuine inquiry. Was this some cruel joke, a play on your long-held affection? "Make fun of me?" The thought ignited a flicker of anger, a desperate attempt to regain control. Your head spun like a kaleidoscope, thoughts colliding in a dizzying chaos. You were a deer caught in the headlights of his unexpected confession, paralyzed by the sheer audacity of it all. "Not so sure, maybe take you on a date," he said, his voice a gentle counterpoint to the storm brewing within you. Your mouth gaped in disbelief. Did you mishear? Had the universe suddenly flipped upside down? "Right, you… what? You what?" Your voice, usually so measured, jumped an octave higher, betraying your shock. He met your stunned gaze with a serene smile, repeating the words you barely registered the first time around. "A date." The simplicity of the phrase held the weight of an avalanche, threatening to bury the meticulously constructed walls you'd built around your heart.

"Don't do that just because you pity me, Seungmin," you snapped, the hurt stinging in your throat. The thought of his affection being fueled by mere sympathy was unbearable. The vulnerability you'd so fiercely protected felt exposed, raw and aching. The air crackled with his soft rebuttal, "Pity?" Seungmin's voice dipped lower, like a caress against the turmoil raging within you. "Is it just me who's so unreadable, or have you become blind to the feelings swirling around you?" His eyes searched yours, a kaleidoscope of sincerity and a hint of playful challenge. With a slow, deliberate movement, he took a step closer, closer still. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, see the details of his face etched with an earnestness that sent your heart into overdrive. His angelic features, normally a source of amusement, now held a potent mix of cuteness and raw heat that left you breathless. The words spilled from his lips, each one a brushstroke painting a vibrant picture of his hidden affections. "I wouldn't be doing any of this," he confessed, his voice a low rumble resonating in your chest, "if I didn't have a monumental crush on you. My constant orbit around you, the unsolicited help, the sweetness reserved only for your ears - that's not who I am with anyone else, not by a long shot."

Jeongin

The insistent rhythm of knocking shattered the stillness of your 3 am slumber. Groaning, you stumbled towards the door, your vision blurry with sleep. There, bathed in the pale moonlight filtering through the peephole, stood Jeongin. "Jeongin? What are you doing here at..." you squinted at your phone, "3 am?" He offered no immediate answer, his silence a heavy weight in the hallway. Then, in a swift move, he stepped past you, pushing the door closed and dragging you with him into the living room. The air crackled with a raw, uncharacteristic intensity. He flopped onto the sofa, his jacket landing in a crumpled heap beside him. You followed suit, still blinking sleep from your eyes and trying to decipher the storm brewing on his face. "I feel so disappointed," he finally uttered, the words sharp and heavy in the quiet room. His gaze, usually alight with playful mischief, was now clouded with a mix of hurt and frustration. "About what?" you asked, your voice still thick with sleep and confusion. "About you," he spat, each word punctuated by a sigh. "About me. About us." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of exasperation. "Why did I have to hear it from someone else? That stupid gossip train, spreading rumors like wildfire..." He paused, his jaw clenched tightly. "To hear that we actually… love each other." His voice softened, laced with a vulnerability you’d rarely witnessed. "I always thought we had no secrets. We shared everything, right? So why this? Why did you keep this hidden, Y/N? What the hell are we doing?" The secret, once a delicate bud kept close to your heart, had finally bloomed into the open.

While you knew its petals would unfold eventually, you hadn't expected them to burst forth at 3 am, with Jeongin standing on your doorstep, his eyes a whirlwind of emotions. He stood before you, the moonlight tracing his silhouette against the doorway. "I like you, okay?" he blurted, his voice raw with a vulnerability you'd rarely seen. "So much more than you might even know." His confession, unexpected yet familiar, echoed back to you through the hushed hallway. You weren't surprised by the sentiment itself, but the sheer force of his delivery, the late-night timing, it all painted a picture of a storm brewing under his usual playful exterior. He continued, his voice taking on a self-deprecating tone, "I just wanted to have fun at the party, you know? But then your friend mentioned this crush you had, and wouldn't you know it, the 'lucky guy' turned out to be me. Can you believe it?" A wry smile flitted across your lips, the absurdity of the situation momentarily dispelling the tension. The clock on the wall ticked incessantly, each tick a tiny hammer tapping against the silence that hung heavy between you. "I really want to be your boyfriend," he pressed on, his voice dropping an octave. "Not just stuck in this 'best friend' zone anymore." He met your gaze, his eyes searching for some sign of reciprocation, some hidden echo of his own feelings. You remained silent, your heart an orchestra of indecision. The weight of his unspoken question, the years of shared laughter and secrets, it all settled on your shoulders like a tangible cloak. "But I didn't know," he admitted, a tremor in his voice.

"Didn't know if you could ever feel the same about a clutz like me. So I kept quiet, never dared to say it. Made you wait, maybe, for too long? Am I a jerk for that?" His question, laced with self-doubt and a hint of desperation, ripped through the veil of your silence. You weren't angry, not at him. This late-night confession, born from a mix of courage and uncertainty, deserved more than silence. It deserved honesty, a bridge built from whispered truths and shared vulnerabilities. His invitation hung in the air, a playful challenge disguised as a simple question. "Let's go on a date," he said, his voice laced with a teasing lilt. You hummed, your reply more of a gentle brushstroke against the canvas of the moment than a definitive answer. Glancing at the clock ticking away on the wall, you couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. "Right," you agreed, tracing the numbers with your finger, "a date sounds lovely. But maybe," you added, your voice dipping lower, "not at this ungodly hour." He closed the space between you, his warmth enveloping you like a familiar embrace. You inhaled the comforting scent of his cologne, a scent that now spoke of shared laughter and lingering kisses. "True," he conceded, burying his face in your hair. "Rest does sound tempting. But," his voice dipped to a conspiratorial whisper, "how about a rain check for tomorrow? A real date, with sunlight and stolen glances across a café table?" He tightened his hug, the gesture an unspoken plea and a promise all at once. "And," he added, his breath tickling your ear, "I'm far too lazy to crawl home tonight. This couch, with you nestled beside me, is far too perfect to abandon."

©Tinytinyblogs

[bracketsoffear]

Spiral Leitner Reading List

The full list of submissions for the Spiral Leitner bracket. Bold titles are ones which were accepted to appear in the bracket. Synopses and propaganda can be found below the cut. Be warned, however, that these may contain spoilers!

Abbott, Edwin Abbott: Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions Amato, Mary: The Word Eater

Barker, Clive: Abarat Basye, Dale E.: Fibble Borges, Jorge Luis: Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius

Calvino, Italo: If on a winter’s night a traveler Carroll, Emily: A Guest in the House Carroll, Lewis: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland/ Through the Looking Glass and what Alice found there Chambers, Robert W.: The King in Yellow Coltrane, John: Giant Steps Cortázar, Julio: Rayuela (Hopscotch) Cutter, Nick: The Deep

Dahl, Roald: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Danielewski, Mark Z.: House of Leaves de Cervantes, Miguel: Don Quixote DeLaney, Samuel R.: Babel-17

Eliot, T.S.: The Waste Land Ewing, Frederick R.: I, Libertine

Gaiman, Neil: Neverwhere Gilman, Charlotte Perkins: The Yellow Wallpaper

Hall, Steven: The Raw Shark Texts Hamilton, Patrick: Angel Street/Gas Light Hawke, Marcus: Grey Noise Hodgson, William Hope: The House on the Borderlands Hunter, Erin: Warriors

Ito, Junji: Uzumaki

Joyce, James: Finnegans Wake Juster, Norton: The Phantom Tollbooth

Kte'pi, Bill: The Cheshire

Lovecraft, H.P.: The Color Out of Space Lyons, Steve: The Stealers of Dreams

Mathers, Edward Powys: Cain’s Jawbone Mearns, William Hughes: Antigonish Miles, Lawrence et. al.: The Book of the War Morrison, Grant: Doom Patrol Moore, Christopher: Sacré Bleu: A Comedy d’Art Muir, Tamsyn: Harrow the Ninth

National Governors Association and Council of Chief State School Officers: Common Core Math Textbook Nikolson, Adam: Life between the tides

O’Brien, Flann: The Third Policeman Ogawa, Yoko: The Memory Police Orwell, George: Nineteen Eighty-Four

Pelevin, Victor: The Helmet of Horror Pratchett, Terry: Moving Pictures Pynchon, Thomas: The Crying of Lot 49

Ryukishi07: higurashi no naku koro ni (When The Evening Cicadas Cry)

Sachar, Louis: Wayside School Is Falling Down Schwartz, Alvin: "Maybe You Will Remember" (short story from Scary Stories 3: More Tales To Chill Your Bones) Serafini, Luigi: Codex Seraphinianus Shakespeare, William: A Midsummer Night's Dream Shakespeare, William: King Lear Shakespeare, William: The Winter's Tale Silberescher: SCP-1425: Star Signals Stine, R.L.: Don't Go to Sleep!

Unknown, Voynich Manuscript

Wells, H.G.: The Door in the Wall West, A.J.: The Spirit Engineer Whorf, Benjamin Lee: Relation of Habitual Thought and Behavior to Language Wyspiański, Stanisław: The Wedding

Abbott, Edwin Abbott: Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions

Both a satire on Victorian hierarchies and a mathematical examination of lower and higher dimensions, Flatland's narrator has strange dreams of a one-dimensional Lineland where he can only be seen as a series of points on a line. Following this, he meets A. Sphere, whom he in turn can only see as a circle, and is exposed to the three-dimensional space of Spaceland. When he returns home to try and explain what he has seen, he is thrown into an insane asylum.

Amato, Mary: The Word Eater

The titular Word Eater is a worm born with eyes and the magical ability to eat words instead of dirt, named Fip. Whenever Fip eats a word, the object or subject that word was referring to vanishes, at one point accidentally erasing a recently discovered star. When used on a subject, erasure removes any ontological effects, as when used on a torturous dog training method the dogs it was used on all suddenly become docile instead of vicious. The conflict of the story comes in the fact that words are the only thing Fip can eat, so keeping anything else from being erased becomes a matter of starving him. There's also some disgruntled students who almost use him to erase their school, with the protagonist worrying that the effect could abstractly extend to the staff and students, necessitating their thwarting.

Barker, Clive: Abarat

Candy lives in Chickentown USA: the most boring place in the world, her heart bursting for some clue as to what her future may hold. She is soon to find out: swept out of our world by a giant wave, she finds herself in another place entirely...

The Abarat: a vast archipelago where every island is a different hour of the day, from the sunlit wonders of Three in the Afternoon, where dragons roam, to the dark terrors of the island of Midnight, ruled by Christopher Carrion. (...)

Abarat is an extremely Spiral coded place working so differently from the real world and being extremely nonsensical that I think this book deserves to be the Spiral Leitner.

Basye, Dale E.: Fibble

"When Marlo Fauster claims she has switched souls with her brother, she gets sent straight to Fibble, the circle of Heck reserved for liars. But it’s true—Milton and Marlo have switched places, and Marlo finds herself trapped in Milton’s gross, gangly body. She also finds herself trapped in Fibble, a three-ring media circus run by none other than P. T. Barnum, an insane ringmaster with grandiose plans and giant, flaming pants. Meanwhile Milton, as Marlo, is working at the devil’s new television network, T.H.E.E.N.D. But there’s something strange about these new shows. Why do they all air at the same time? And are they really broadcasting to the Surface? Soon Milton and Marlo realize that they need each other to sort through the lies and possibly prevent the end of the world—if Bea “Elsa” Bubb doesn’t catch them first."

The Fauster twins are caught up in yet another apocalyptic scheme as hellish figures plot to stoke a ratings war into a holy war, using elaborate lies and propaganda to provoke the end of humanity itself.

Borges, Jorge Luis: Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius

A short story concerning the author and his friend stumbling upon a mention of the Uqbar region in an encyclopedia, a place which is found in no other literature. One of the myths of Uqbar concerns Tlön, a fantastical place where people do not believe in the reality of the material world, and only the most outre scholars would dare suggest that objects have permanence. Objects there "grow vague or sketchy and lose detail" when they begin to be forgotten, culminating in their disappearance when they are completely forgotten. One year later, Tlönian objects begin to appear in the real world. Then a complete encyclopedia of the world turns up, transforming the human understanding of science and philosophy. As the author writes his postscript, the world is transforming entirely into Tlön.

Calvino, Italo: If on a winter’s night a traveler

The postmodernist narrative, in the form of a frame story, is about the reader trying to read a book called If on a winter's night a traveler. Each chapter is divided into two sections. The first section of each chapter is in second person, and describes the process the reader goes through to attempt to read the next chapter of the book they are reading. The second half is the first part of a new book that the reader ("you") finds. The second half is always about something different from the previous ones.

Carroll, Emily: A Guest in the House

"After many lonely years, Abby’s just gotten married. She met her new husband—a recently widowed dentist—when he arrived in town with his young daughter, seeking a new start. Although it’s strange living in the shadow of her predecessor, Abby does her best to be a good wife and mother. But the more she learns about her new husband’s first wife, the more things don’t add up. And Abby starts to wonder . . . was Sheila’s death really by natural causes? As Abby sinks deeper into confusion, Sheila’s memory seems to become a force all its own, ensnaring Abby in a mystery that leaves her obsessed, fascinated, and desperately in love for the first time in her life"

While most riffs on the Bluebeard story are probably slaughter, buried, or eye aligned, much of the horror in this story is the uncertainty and loss of a clear sense of reality. Also the art of Sheila feels very spiral.

Carroll, Lewis: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland/ Through the Looking Glass and what Alice found there

Both books have a similar structure and are spiral for the same reasons: little Victorian child Alice founds herself in a strange world with rules vastly different from hers (for example, there’s no real geography and the scenery changes suddenly from one place to another very much like in a dream). The characters she crosses constantly defy her understanding of the world and applies logics she struggles to understand. Even though she ends up going with the flow most of the time she never ceases to question whether she’s experiencing real life or a dream; sanity is brought up a few times, and there’s also the popular quote "We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad", delivered by the grinning cat that appears and disappears like a slippery distortion. Lastly I may add that the TMA episode whose title references the book (Mag 177, Wonderland) is a spiral episode.

Chambers, Robert W.: The King in Yellow

A collection of short stories, most of which revolve around a fictional two-act play of the same title: The King in Yellow. Although the play is never described in any great detail, anyone who reads it is driven to madness.

Coltrane, John: Giant Steps

At first a reader simply sees the rapid changes, seemingly random and discordant. Further investigation will begin to reveal patterns, the chords begin to outline other chords, that in turn outline further chords, only to loop back to the beginning. A master or his craft, the creator can seemingly effortlessly navigate this fractal of potential sound. You, can only hope to keep up as the endless, rapidly twisting patterns give you no time to comprehend the page in front of you.

This is specifically against tournament rules, but I still wanted to at least give it a submission.

Cortázar, Julio: Rayuela (Hopscotch)

The story of two young writers whose lives are playing themselves out in Buenos Aires and Paris to the sounds of jazz and brilliant talk, Hopscotch, written in 1963, was the first hypertext novel. Anticipating the age of the web with a non-structure that allows readers to take the chapters in any order they wish, Hopscotch invites them to be the architects of the novel themselves.

Cutter, Nick: The Deep

A strange plague called the ‘Gets is decimating humanity on a global scale. It causes people to forget— Small things at first and eventually their bodies forget how to function involuntarily. There is no cure.

But far below the surface of the Pacific Ocean, a universal healer hailed as “ambrosia” has been discovered. In order to study this phenomenon, a special research lab has been built eight miles under the sea’s surface. But when the station goes incommunicado, a brave few descend through the lightless fathoms in hopes of unraveling the mysteries lurking at those crushing depths."

At first glance you might think this book is much more aligned to The Buried than The Spiral and while it does have a lot of claustrophobic elements, the true horror the protagonist (Luke) faces, comes from slowly losing your perception of reality. The relatively small laboratory soon becomes a labyrinth, as he moves from room to room he also moves through memories that become more and more vivid as time goes by. He has hallucinations, falls asleep and dreams of being awake while sleepwalks, he is chased by monsters that are very real and some that are just his own demons.

(spoilers) At the end we find out he and all the other people in the laboratory were lured by two ancient creatures trapped both at the bottom of the sea and another dimension and needed Luke's body to be free. The Figmen are tricksters, they enjoy doing "experiments" seeing how much a body can twist and what it takes to break a mind. The people inside the laboratory were little more that mice they wanted to see run around for their amusement before being freed

Dahl, Roald: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

I want off Mr. Wonka's wild ride. Why the fuck is this man dragging children through his acid trip pun-tastical Saw movie. OSHA get his ass

Danielewski, Mark Z.: House of Leaves

The novel is written as a work of epistolary fiction and metafiction focusing on a fictional documentary film titled the Navidson Record, presented as a story within a story discussed in a handwritten monograph recovered by the primary narrator, Johnny Truant. The narrative makes heavy use of multiperspectivity as Truant's footnotes chronicle his efforts to transcribe the manuscript, which itself reveals the Navidson Record's supposed narrative through transcriptions and analysis depicting a story of a family who discovers a larger-on-the-inside labyrinth in their house.

***

Come on, its the book that gaslights you. Some pages are literally typed in spirals. Its about a beautiful new house that breaks the laws of physics and also eats some people- Helen Richardson would be PROUD. Its a story in a story IN A STORY. The introduction of the book is about how the man annotating the manuscript of the documentary and his friend used to pick up girls by telling fantastical and false stories about their lives. Everyone in the books universe thinks the documentary was faked. What can i say that hasn't been said before? The “M” in Mark Z. Danielowki stands for “Mr. Michael Distortion”

***

I mean, look at the book. Look at it. I feel like I'm going mad every time I see its pages.

de Cervantes, Miguel: Don Quixote

After reading too many courtly romances, Quixote's perception of reality is warped, and he seeks to become a knight and restore the courtly chivalric graces. Also he thinks windmills are evil giants.

DeLaney, Samuel R.: Babel-17

Rydra Wong is a top linguist, acclaimed poet, and former military cryptologist. When the Alliance military come across a new code used by the enemy, which is beyond their ability to crack, they come to her for help. She informs them that it is not a mere code, but an actual language, and agrees to accept the challenge.

Quickly assembling a crew, Wong heads to the Alliance War Yards to study the raw data on this new language, which the military calls Babel-17. However, shortly after she arrives, an enemy attack forces her to flee in disarray, and she falls in with a privateer, who is, fortunately, on the Alliance side.

Or mostly so. On board the privateer's ship, she begins to learn more about Babel-17, and the surprising benefits and dangers it offers to someone who learns to speak it. The language literally twists the thought pattern of its speakers, making it easier to conceptualize certain ideas, but more difficult to translate your thoughts into anything others can understand.

Eliot, T.S.: The Waste Land

Here's a link to the text if anyone is curious

The Waste Land is a poem that describes a...place? state of mind? an arc of history?...in a series of fragments. It weaves together fractured dialogue, mythology, language, and popular culture of its day into a bizarre but beautiful landscape that defies easy explanation.

Ewing, Frederick R.: I, Libertine

New York Times Best Selling novel by acclaimed author, Frederick R. Ewing, “I, Libertine” tells the story of a social climber who styles himself as Lance Courtney.

I highly recommend those voting seek out the book to read for themselves, as it is truly one of the great works of modern American literature.

Gaiman, Neil: Neverwhere

"Under the streets of London there's a world most people could never even dream of. A city of monsters and saints, murderers and angels, knights in armour and pale girls in black velvet. "Neverwhere" is the London of the people who have fallen between the cracks. Strange destinies lie in wait in London below - a world that seems eerily familiar. But a world that is utterly bizarre, peopled by unearthly characters such as the Angel called Islington, the girl named Door, and the Earl who holds Court on a tube train. (...)"

Extremely weird world that unsuspecting civilian can be stuck in, and there is a door motive. This is a Spiral Leitner if I ever saw one.

Gilman, Charlotte Perkins: The Yellow Wallpaper

Link

From Wikipedia: "The story is written as a collection of journal entries narrated in the first person. The journal was written by a woman whose physician husband has rented an old mansion for the summer. Forgoing other rooms in the house, the couple moves into the upstairs nursery. As a form of treatment, the husband forbids the journal writer from working or writing, and encourages her to eat well and get plenty of air so that she can recuperate from what he calls a "temporary nervous depression – a slight hysterical tendency", a common diagnosis in women at the time. As the reader continues through the journal entries, they experience the writer's gradual descent into madness with nothing better to do than observe the peeling yellow wallpaper in her room.”

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Epistolary novel about a woman who's being made to live in a single room to treat her post-partum depression. Over the course of the story, she becomes increasingly obsessed with the patterns of the room's wallpaper, spending hours gazing at it and trying to make sense of it. By the end of the story, she believes that there's a woman trapped in the wallpaper, or perhaps that she is the women trapped in the wallpaper. Throughout the story, she's also gaslit by her husband.

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It's a short story and I highly recommend that you read it. Spoilers (of course) are ahead, so if you want an unspoiled experience, skip past.

This story follows the narrator, as she is locked up by her husband who cares for her and ultimately makes all decisions for her. He makes her doubt her state of mind as she suffers from a nervious disorder. As she stays in the ex-nursery attic, she writes of the horrendous yellow wallpaper. She becomes obsessive of it, watching it night and day amd watching as the colours change with the lighting of the room. She begins seeing a woman locked behind the twisting patterns, and in the end she becomes it - or it becomes her, and she has a hysteric breakdown.

Hall, Steven: The Raw Shark Texts

Eric Sanderson wakes up with no memory of who he is or any past experiences. He is told by a psychologist that he has a dissociative condition known as fugue but a trail of written clues purporting to be from his pre-amnesiac self describe a more fantastic and sinister explanation for his lack of memories. According to these, he has activated a conceptual shark called a Ludovician which "feeds on human memories and the intrinsic sense of self" and is relentlessly pursuing him and will eventually erase his personality completely.

Also at one point there's about 30 pages of an ASCII shark moving towards the reader. Could easily be interpreted as the Ludovician actually approaching the reader in a Leitner-ized version.

[SPOILERS] When the Ludovician attacks Eric, he decides to go in search of a doctor named Trey Fidorous, identified by the letters from his previous self, in the hope he may be able to help to explain what happened to him and how to defeat the shark. Eric travels through Britain in search of clues and is contacted by a mysterious figure called Mr. Nobody, who is part of a megalomaniac network intelligence called Mycroft Ward. Mr. Nobody attempts to subdue and control Eric but Eric manages to escape with the help of an associate of Fidorous named Scout. Scout takes Eric to meet Fidorous, travelling through un-space (an underground network of empty warehouses and unused cellars). They begin a romantic relationship during the journey but Eric feels betrayed when he discovers that Scout has brought him to Fidorous to use him as bait for the shark in the hope of destroying Ward.

With their help Fidorous builds a conceptual shark-hunting boat and they sail out on a conceptual ocean. After a battle with the shark they throw a laptop hooked up to the Mycroft Ward database into its mouth, destroying both Ward and the shark. Eric and Scout remain in the conceptual universe while Eric's dead body is discovered back in the real world.

Hamilton, Patrick: Angel Street/Gas Light

Under the guise of kindness, Jack Manningham is slowly torturing his fragile wife Bella into insanity in his efforts to cover his search for treasure from his diabolical past. He makes her think she is forgetting things and rattles her nerves with the flickering gaslight, which he controls from another room. One day, when Jack is out, Bella has an unexpected caller: kindly Inspector Rough from Scotland Yard. Rough is convinced that Jack is a homicidal maniac wanted for a murder committed fifteen years earlier in this very house. Gradually the Inspector restores Bella's confidence in herself and as the evidence against Jack unfolds.

The play that inspired the movie 1994 "Gaslight" which brought the term "gaslighting" into the public eye.

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The literal origins of the term "gaslighting," the play follows the recently-married protagonist as her husband tries to convince her that she's going mad.

Hawke, Marcus: Grey Noise

Evan is just trying to get his store, REWIND VIDEO, up and running. Fate, unfortunately, often has other plans. Then he finds something that would be the perfect touch, an old vacuum tube TV. One that keeps turning to static. And it too has other plans. It follows you. Drives you. It’s already inside you. Lose yourself in...GREY NOISE.

Hodgson, William Hope: The House on the Borderlands

Fishing buddies Tonnison and Berreggnog didn't bargain for what they found while on holiday near the remote Irish village of Kraighten. While walking along the riverbank, they're astonished to see that the river abruptly ends. It reappears as a surge from a chasm some 100 feet below the edge of an abyss, where also stand the remains of an oddly shaped house, half-swallowed by the pit.

Exploring the ruins, the friends discover the moldering journal of an unidentified man--the Recluse--who had lived in the house with his sister and faithful dog years ago. Its pages reveal the man's apparent descent into madness--how else to account for his chronicles of otherworldly visions, trips to other dimensions, and attacks by swine-like humanoid creatures that seem to have followed him home? After one particular vision in which he witnesses the end of the earth and time itself, the Recluse awakens in his study to find nothing has changed--except that his dog Pepper is dead, dissolved into a pile of dust. And then the "swine things" return...

Hunter, Erin: Warriors

Can you keep track of who the fuck is related to who and who died when and what these cats look like and what they're named? No you fucking can't, there's four writers all sharing a pen name and metric shit ton of books in the main series alone, let alone the spinoffs. Continuity is dead and these cats murdered it.

Ito, Junji: Uzumaki

Uzumaki follows a high-school teenager, Kirie Goshima (五島桐絵); her boyfriend, Shuichi Saito (斎藤秀一); and the citizens of the small, quiet Japanese town of Kurouzu-cho (黒渦町, Black Vortex Town), which is enveloped by supernatural events involving spirals.

As the story progresses, Kirie and Shuichi witness how the spiral curse affects the people around them, causing the citizens to become either obsessed or paranoid about spirals. Shuichi becomes reclusive after both of his parents die from the horrific psychological and physical powers of the spirals, but also gains the ability to detect when the spiral curse is taking place, although he is often dismissed until the next paranormal effects of the curse become obvious. Eventually, Kirie is affected by the curse as well, when her hair begins to curl into an unnatural spiral pattern, drains her life energy to hypnotize the citizens, and chokes her whenever she attempts to cut it off. Shuichi is able to cut her hair and save her. The curse continues to plague the town until a series of typhoons conjured by the curse destroys most of its structures. The only remaining buildings are ancient abandoned terraced houses, which the citizens are forced first to move into, and then begin expanding as they grow more and more crowded.

As a series of increasingly powerful earthquakes and additional destruction from delinquents able to utilize strong winds strike the town, Kirie and Shuichi devise a plan to escape Kurouzu-cho, but when they attempt to escape, their efforts are unsuccessful. After returning to the town, they discover that several years have passed since they left, as time speeds up away from the spiral. The other citizens have expanded the terraced houses until they connected into a single structure forming a labyrinthine spiral pattern, but have become mutated as a consequence of overcrowding, their limbs twisting and warping into spirals. Kirie and Shuichi decide to search for Kirie's parents, which brings them to the center after many days of walking through the labyrinth.

At the center, Shuichi is hurled down a pit leading deep beneath the earth by a mutated citizen, with Kirie herself descending via a colossal spiral staircase to find him. She falls but is saved by countless bodies making up the ground of a vast, ancient city consisting entirely of spiral patterns in various arrangements. As Kirie looks for Shuichi, she finds her parents twisted and petrified, resembling stone statues, along with many other citizens of Kurouzu-cho who have met the same fate. Then, she hears Shuichi call for her and goes to him. Both are overwhelmed by the ancient spirals surrounding them and Shuichi points out how it seems as though the spiral ruins have a will of their own. Noticing that the petrified citizens of Kurouzu-cho are all facing the spiral city, Shuichi theorizes that this is the source of the curse; the city expands on its own periodically and has cursed the land above out of jealousy from having no one to view it.

Shuichi urges Kirie to leave without him as he can no longer walk, and that the curse should be over soon, but she replies that she does not have the strength and wishes to stay with him. The two embrace with their bodies twisting and intertwining together, signifying their acceptance into the never-ending curse. At the same time, a stone tower in the shape of a drill bit rises out of the city, and breaches the surface, forming the centerpiece of the abandoned town. As Shuichi and Kirie lie together, Kirie notes that the curse ended at the same time it began, for just as time speeds up away from the center, it freezes at the center. The spiral's curse is eternal, and all the events will repeat when a new Kurouzu-cho is built where the previous one lay.

***

I was debating if I should just do the first volume but three in one horrors sounded great to me. So Uzumaki is largely about spirals, to put the most obvious reasoning first. That's that Uzumaki translates to, after all. Spirals begin enveloping this small town, causing supernatural events. But the madness side of things comes as quickly as the spirals are there. You see it first in completely opposite ways with Shuichi's father and mother, with one becoming obsessed with spirals to the point of madness and eventually becoming one himself and the other being so terrified of spirals that it turns into its own psychological torment as she tries to remove spirals from her life and eventually realizes that those spirals are part of her naturally, causing her to try to take apart those aspects of her as well. Over chapters, characters become warped and characters succumb to the madness of spirals. Some fear the spirals, while others embrace them. Escaping the spirals is proven futile, and through that, it is also proven how out of sync the town is from reality as a whole, with time being sped up. Also, it has a labyrinth at this point, built by those suffering from the curse, so I think the Spiral would love that. In the end, the spirals are proven inescapable, and the two main characters warp together into a spiral of their own. The curse seems to end here, but really, it's a never ending cycle, and a curse which will never go away. The curse and the madness it brings won't fade.

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Kurouzu-cho, a small fogbound town on the coast of Japan, is cursed. According to Shuichi Saito, the withdrawn boyfriend of teenager Kirie Goshima, their town is haunted not by a person or being but a pattern: UZUMAKI, the spiral—the hypnotic secret shape of the world.

***

Plot is about a town cursed by spirals which make you go insane

Joyce, James: Finnegans Wake

Considered to be one of the great literary mindscrews. The plot is covered in about a tenth of the chapters in the book. The rest tell a series of unconnected vignettes, describe minor characters in excessive detail, give allegories for the main plot, and teach you geometry. One chapter was described by Joyce as "A chattering dialogue across a river by two washerwomen who, as night falls, become a tree and stone." Some chapters feature random doodles in the margins. The first sentence is the ending part of the last sentence, making the book circular. Finally, it's written in a combination of five dozen or so different languages, random puns that you need a doctorate in ancient mythology and the aforementioned languages to understand, and general stream of consciousness. In short, it makes no sense. Which is awesome. Joyce stated that it was supposed to be a dream-like "night book" in comparison to his "day-book", Ulysses, which described a day in the life of some ordinary Dubliners but whose style and construction was almost as weird.

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Finnegan's Wake is one of the most experimental novels of the twentieth century. Rather than write using conventions of novels--or of the English language--Joyce structured his book on language itself. The result is surreal, dense, and famously difficult. To get a sense of just how strange and dreamlike the whole thing is, even its Wikipedia page compares it to Lewis Carroll's "Jabberwocky" before pointing out the the book begins with the second half of a sentence, which it gives the first half of at its end. Tl;dr Finnegan's Wake is so unsettlingly experimental that Joyce had to break the English language down to its components to get his vision down on the page.

Juster, Norton: The Phantom Tollbooth

Milo receives a package one day, from an unknown source. The package takes him on a journey where he meets the judge jury and executioner, the princesses rhyme and reason, and more

Kte'pi, Bill: The Cheshire

If you don't want to read this whole summary, here's a song based on the story

Alice Little came out of a showing of Disney's Alice in Wonderland sixteen years ago with nothing but a blue gingham dress, a faded daguerrotype of cats, and jumbled memories of being Alice Liddell. Specifically the fictional character: "she'd never thought of herself as the 'real' Alice, the one Charles Dodgson wrote Alice's Adventures in Wonderland for - she had no memories of that Alice's life, only of the life chronicled by Lewis Carroll - madness and tea parties and talking animals. Worse, her memories conflicted, as she remembered Alice's Adventures Underground, Wonderland's first draft, as vividly as she did the two published novels." After years of attempting to return to Wonderland failed--she'd "tried every drug she could, hallucinogenic and otherwise [...] meditation, trances, pain rituals, sweat lodges, prayers and madness and hypnosis and psychotherapy"--Alice tells herself that her memories are merely symptomatic of a dissociative disorder and tries to go clean. But she puts an ad in the paper asking "Why is a raven like a writing desk?" (which includes a coded message saying "SAVE ME"), searching for answers despite herself, and eventually gets an answer. She meets a grinning man "in a purple-striped turtleneck, with odd-shaped nails and a tattoo of a mushroom on one of his knuckles" at a bar and they talk about her struggles, with him eventually getting her to ask what she really wants to know--if he can take her back. The man replies, "'There's no back to take you. You never left [...] Maybe we recognise each other because you're Alice and I'm the Cheshire Cat. Maybe we're descendents of the originals. Maybe we're brother and sister, separated after our parents' deaths and so traumatised we sought refuge in the books Father read to us as children. Maybe we're simply mad.'" After giving her LSD, the man tells her that a raven isn't like a writing desk at all, "And he faded away, leaving nothing but a grinnnnnnnnnn."

Lovecraft, H.P.: The Color Out of Space

An indescribable color leaches the life out of a patch of farmland and everyone on it.

Lyons, Steve: The Stealers of Dreams

Synopsis: "In the far future, the Doctor, Rose and Captain Jack find a world on which fiction has been outlawed. A world where it's a crime to tell stories, a crime to lie, a crime to hope, and a crime to dream.

But now somebody is challenging the status quo. A pirate TV station urges people to fight back. And the Doctor wants to help -- until he sees how easily dreams can turn into nightmares.

With one of his companions stalked by shadows and the other committed to an asylum, the Doctor is forced to admit that fiction can be dangerous after all. Though perhaps it is not as deadly as the truth... "

Why it's Spiral: A society where lies and fictions are forbidden is, evidently, a society that will fall for anything. The repression of any untruth -- by threat of violence and by invasive brain surgery to paralyze the region that dreams -- means that people are more desperate than ever to believe in anything. Fiction has consequences on this planet. And what could be a more obvious lie than the time-traveling man in his blue box...?

Mathers, Edward Powys: Cain’s Jawbone

I'm just going to quote an article from The Independent: "Cain’s Jawbone, originally published in 1934, is a murder mystery puzzle composed of 100 pages – all assembled in the wrong order. The only way to solve all six murders in the prose narrative is to reorder the pages and correctly identify the crimes, their victims, and who perpetrated them."

Here's the link to the article

Mearns, William Hughes: Antigonish

It's all pretty much all in the TMA episode (Upon the stairs). The little man who "wasn't there" in the stairs.

Miles, Lawrence et. al.: The Book of the War

Synopsis: "The Great Houses: Immovable. Implacable. Unchanging. Old enough to pass themselves off as immortal, arrogant enough to claim ultimate authority over the Spiral Politic.

The Enemy: Not so much an army as a hostile new kind of history. So ambitious it can re-write worlds, so complex that even calling it by its name seems to underestimate it.

Faction Paradox: Renegades, ritualists, saboteurs and subterfugers, the criminal-cult to end all criminal-cults, happy to be caught in the crossfire and ready to take whatever's needed from the wreckage… assuming the other powers leave behind a universe that's habitable.

The War: A fifty-year-old dispute over the two most valuable territories in existence: "cause" and "effect."

Marking the first five decades of the conflict, THE BOOK OF THE WAR is an A to Z of a self-contained continuum and a complete guide to the Spiral Politic, from the beginning of recordable time to the fall of humanity. Part story, part history and part puzzle-box, this is a chronicle of protocol and paranoia in a War where the historians win as many battles as the soldiers and the greatest victory of all is to hold on to your own past."

Propaganda: A text which purports to be a constantly shifting and updating guide to The War, a conflict so overarching and complete that every other conflict is but a pale shadow thereof; the Time War. Of course, since it would shift retroactively with the changing timelines, there is no way to prove or disprove this claim. Notable entries include cities built from days stolen from shifting calendars, the secrets of removing yourself from history while still leaving yourself free to interfere, Grandfather Paradox, the location of the exact centre of history, how to weaponize banality, and Parablox.

Oh, and there's something else in there. Something that seems to be talking to you...

Morrison, Grant: Doom Patrol

The series in general could easily fit in the Spiral, but I'll focus on a certain arc. A great new evil emerges! The Brotherhood of Dada! Its members: a woman that has super strength when she's asleep, a man that is made of fog and swallows his victims(and then has to put up with their voices inside his brain forever), a woman that has every super power you haven't thought of and is deathly afraid of dirt and an illiterate man that can turn into a hurricane. And their intrepid leader! Mr Nobody! He used to be a boring, average man. With the help of a very criminal doctor he tried to turn into a new man...but he went so insane he's always slightly left of reality and 2D. He doesn't mind though, he rather enjoys the meaninglessness of it all, which is a bit Vast of him. He also calls cops fascists.

The bad guys steal a painting that swallows everything and anything and they put Paris inside it. One of the funniest panels ever is various super heroes sitting around a painting wandering what they're supposed to do. Thankfully, Doom Patrol knows how to deal with the weird stuff. They go into the painting, get separated in different artstyles and beaten up.

But the Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse is coming, so they cooperate and put him in the dadaist section, making him lose all meaning and turning into a wooden horse.

A big part of the arc is also narrated by the illiterate hurricane guy, which makes it harder to understand since he writes phonetically.

The whole thing is absurdity, the first bad guys are absurd and the second bad guy gets beaten by the absurd. After a few more arcs Mr Nobody runs for president(with some members of the Doom Patrol endorsing him) and gets killed by the CIA in a similar manner to Jesus. For his campaign he drove a bus that made everyone behind it feel like they've taken lsd.

Moore, Christopher: Sacré Bleu: A Comedy d’Art

The story surrounds the mysterious suicide of Vincent van Gogh, who famously shot himself in a French wheat field only to walk a mile to a doctor’s house. The mystery, which is slowly but cleverly revealed through the course of the book, is blue: specifically the exclusive ultramarine pigment that accents pictures created by the likes of Michelangelo and van Gogh. To find the origin of the hue, Moore brings on Lucien Lessard, a baker, aspiring artist and lover of Juliette, the brunette beauty who breaks his heart. After van Gogh’s death, Lucien joins up with the diminutive force of nature Henri Toulouse-Lautrec to track down the inspiration behind the Sacré Bleu. In the shadows, lurking for centuries, is a perverse paint dealer dubbed The Colorman, who tempts the world’s great artists with his unique hues and a mysterious female companion who brings revelation—and often syphilis (it is Moore, after all). Into the palette, Moore throws a dizzying array of characters, all expertly portrayed, from the oft-drunk “little gentleman” to a host of artists including Édouard Manet, Paul Gauguin, Georges Seurat, Claude Monet, Camille Pissarro and Pierre-Auguste Renoir.

Muir, Tamsyn: Harrow the Ninth

Harrow the Ninth is, above all, really fucking confusing. Roughly every third chapter is actively gaslighting the reader about what happened in the last book. The main character is fucking struggling to maintain any sort of grip on reality all throughout the story, and more often than not, she fails miserably. This is due to several factors, including, but not limited to - sleep deprivation, latent schizophrenia, ruthless emotional manipulation from everyone around her, being full of a frankly alarming number of ghosts from several entirely unrelated sources, childhood parental and religious trauma, and a self-inflicted amateur lobotomy.

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Takes place post(sometimes pre) DIY lobotomy; leaving our protag, who already struggles identifying between reality and hallucination, a paranoid, constantly questioning wreck. It's written in second person and does not follow events chronologically, leaving the reader questioning everything almost as much as the protag.

National Governors Association and Council of Chief State School Officers: Common Core Math Textbook

Drives me up the damn wall insane. This is mostly a joke suggestion but also I think there’s something to be said about fractals’ place in mathematics, and the widespread range of common core math’s influence. To be honest, submitting this is a gut feeling of dread to me.

Nikolson, Adam: Life between the tides

Look this probably shouldn’t even make it into the bracket and this is mostly a very dull book about shoreline ecosystems but there’s this one chapter where the dude gets positively poetic about I think?? winkles?? (a kind of snail) and it absolutely reads like a statement like we are talking fractal winkles-all-the-way-down insanity. I need to tell someone about it bc it was like suddenly reading another book. A better and also worse book. I’m pretty sure he quoted philosophers in it. I wish I had taken notes. He would get along with Ivo Lensik’s dad.

O’Brien, Flann: The Third Policeman

Synopsis from Goodreads: "The Third Policeman is Flann O'Brien's brilliantly dark comic novel about the nature of time, death, and existence. Told by a narrator who has committed a botched robbery and brutal murder, the novel follows him and his adventures in a two-dimensional police station where, through the theories of the scientist/philosopher de Selby, he is introduced to "Atomic Theory" and its relation to bicycles, the existence of eternity (which turns out to be just down the road), and de Selby's view that the earth is not round but "sausage-shaped." With the help of his newly found soul named "Joe," he grapples with the riddles and contradictions that three eccentric policeman present to him."

Ogawa, Yoko: The Memory Police

The story is set in an alternate Japan where people's memories of certain things and concepts (e.g. birds, hats, winter, books, seasons, even their sense of self) are slowly taken away from their collective minds for 'their safety' by the titular Memory Police, a government force of sorts. This forced forgetting goes to the point where they can't physically perceive that concept; birds are weird creatures because no one remembers what a bird is like, and it's always winter because no one remembers what spring is. The story even ends with the unnamed protagonist (along with several others) eventually fading away from existence (read: forgetting) as memories of certain body parts and finally the concept of the human body is taken away by the Memory Police. It's like if the vase from MAG 38 formed and entire task force to do its job.

This one has narrative potential too; imagine a statement where someone slowly lose memories of certain things after reading this Leitner, gradually becoming an unreliable narrator as reality slips away from their conscious.

Orwell, George: Nineteen Eighty-Four

Pelevin, Victor: The Helmet of Horror

Eight people find themselves in eight different rooms with a labyrinth behind them and a computer in front of them. They try to communicate via the computer that allows them to chat with one another, but has nicknames set for them(IsoldA, UGLI 666, Ariane...) and blocks their personal information. They(and us) can't know if they are lying. When two of them try to see each other by visiting a spot in the labyrinths that should be the same they each then recount a completely different experience and accuse each other of lying. Another character claims they all must be figments of his imagination, he must be very drunk. And they're all afraid of the minotaur. It is a book where no one, even the reader knows what's real, everyone is afraid of what might appear if they turn a corner and no one knows what's going on.

Pratchett, Terry: Moving Pictures

"‘HOLY WOOD IS A DIFFERENT SORT OF PLACE . . . HERE, THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IS TO BE IMPORTANT.’

A new phenomenon is taking over the Discworld: moving pictures. Created by the alchemists of Ankh-Morpork, the growing ‘clicks’ industry moves to the sandy land of Holy Wood, attracted by the light of the sun and some strange calling no one can quite put their finger on…

Also drawn to Holy Wood are aspiring young stars Victor Tugelbend, a wizarding student dropout, and Theda ‘Ginger’ Withel, a small-town girl with big dreams. But behind the glitz and glamour of the clicks, a sinister presence lurks. Because belief is powerful in the Discworld, and sometimes downright dangerous…

The magic of movies might just unravel reality itself."

Pynchon, Thomas: The Crying of Lot 49

Oedipa Maas spends the whole book trying to figure out if the conspiracy she’s trying to unravel about the US postal service and a conter-postal service via plays, signs/images, and history is real or if she’s being gaslit by her ex, who just died and made her executor of his will.

Ryukishi07: higurashi no naku koro ni (When The Evening Cicadas Cry)

The series explores paranoia and deceit among friends. It uses its POVs incredibly well, limiting your view of the situation so much that it is genuinely incredibly hard to figure out what happened or why (until you read the answer arcs ofc). Several key plot points involve characters getting so consumed by their own madness that they cannot see reality for what it is and wildly assume false things. This madness repeats and repeats and repeats, consuming the friends group over and over and over, leading them to do horrific things to each other. Many a character become so consumed by suspicion and fear that the world distorts and details change in their mind to match what they think is happening. I am desperately trying to describe the series without spoilers rn

Sachar, Louis: Wayside School Is Falling Down

Obviously all of Wayside School is a little Spirally -- the weird architecture, the cow invasions, occasional hypnosis, and more -- but this one tells a story of the nineteenth floor. Wayside School has no nineteenth floor. There is one teacher on the nineteenth floor, and only one class, who learn about how to alphabetize every number. Sometimes, new students arrive...

Schwartz, Alvin: "Maybe You Will Remember" (short story from Scary Stories 3: More Tales To Chill Your Bones)

A girl, Rosemary, and her mother are on vacation in Paris. Rosemary's mother is ill, so Rosemary is sent to get medicine, but ultimately has her time wasted by the driver on the way back, and when she returns to the hotel, nobody recognizes her, telling her she has the wrong place. Her mother is gone, too, and when Rosemary asks to see the room they stayed in as proof they were there, the clerk shows her a completely unfamiliar setup, making Rosemary wonder what happened to her.

In the appendix of the book, the scenario is explained. Rosemary's mother was sick with the plague, and the doctor, recognizing it, knew she would be dead very quickly. Rosemary was put on a wild goose chase for the medicine and given a driver who would delay her, with the doctor and hotel staff working to dispose of her mother's body and re-decorate the hotel room while Rosemary was away. With Rosemary unable to verify that she was in the hotel, and unknowing that her mother died of plague, the hotel avoided any negative publicity that would have occurred if anyone were to find out a guest had the plague. The hotel's PR was saved, but Rosemary was left doubting her sanity.

Serafini, Luigi: Codex Seraphinianus

The Codex is an encyclopedia in manuscript with copious hand-drawn, colored-pencil illustrations of bizarre and fantastical flora, fauna, anatomies, fashions, and foods. The illustrations are often surreal parodies of things in the real world, such as a bleeding fruit, a plant that grows into roughly the shape of a chair and is subsequently made into one, and a copulating couple who metamorphose into an alligator. Others depict odd, apparently senseless machines, often with delicate appearances and bound by tiny filaments. Some illustrations are recognizable as maps or human faces, while others (especially in the "physics" chapter) are mostly or totally abstract. Nearly all of the illustrations are brightly coloured and highly detailed

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It's an encyclopedia for a universe that doesn't exist, treated as if it does exist in another universe while being written in a nonsense, impossible to understand language. The things it depict doesn't make sense either, ranging from swimming trees and eye-shaped fishes to absolutely bizarre creatures and technology, like a rainbow-making cloud shaped like Da Vinci's aerial screw. The entire thing comes off as surreal nonsense because it's meant to symbolise the feeling of trying to understand something that you can't understand, but finds cool because of the visuals. It's a book that you aren't meant to read understand, but simply look at, because trying to understand it just... doesn't work.

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The Codex is an encyclopedia in manuscript with copious hand-drawn, colored-pencil illustrations of bizarre and fantastical flora, fauna, anatomies, fashions, and foods. It has been compared to the still undeciphered Voynich manuscript, the story "Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius" by Jorge Luis Borges, and the artwork of M. C. Escher and Hieronymus Bosch. The illustrations are often surreal parodies of things in the real world, such as a bleeding fruit, a plant that grows into roughly the shape of a chair and is subsequently made into one, and a copulating couple who metamorphose into an alligator. Others depict odd, apparently senseless machines, often with delicate appearances and bound by tiny filaments. Some illustrations are recognizable as maps or human faces, while others (especially in the "physics" chapter) are mostly or totally abstract. Nearly all of the illustrations are brightly coloured and highly detailed.

The false writing system appears modeled on Western writing systems, with left-to-right writing in rows and an alphabet with uppercase and lowercase letters, some of which double as numerals. Some letters appear only at the beginning or end of words, similar to Semitic writing systems. The curvilinear letters are rope- or thread-like, with loops and even knots, and are somewhat reminiscent of Sinhala script. In a talk at the Oxford University Society of Bibliophiles [...] Serafini stated that there is no meaning behind the Codex's script, which is asemic; that his experience in writing it was similar to automatic writing; and that what he wanted his alphabet to convey was the sensation children feel with books they cannot yet understand, although they see that the writing makes sense for adults. Take a look for yourself:

Shakespeare, William: A Midsummer Night's Dream

The way the fey play with the perceptions and emotions of the wandering youths in the woods is peak Spiral, as their loves and disdains change with the machinations of Oberon and Puck.

Shakespeare, William: King Lear

The play has everything: real descents into madness, fake descents into madness, betrayal by trusted loved ones, loyalty from betrayed loved ones, and would-be wise men who turn out to be fools.

Shakespeare, William: The Winter's Tale

Imagine that you are absolutely, completely, 100 percent certain that your wife is cheating on you with your best friend. Now imagine you're the king, and your best friend is the king of a far-off kingdom. Now imagine that the consequences of your actions spiral outward: your wife and son die, one of your trusted advisors has disappeared with daughter on your orders to kill her.

This first half of this deeply underappreciated play explores the consequences of one man's fear of betrayal. Coincidentally, it is one Shakespeare's more surreal works. It's the origin of the infamous "Exit pursued by a bear," a stage direction that concludes a scene set on the coast of a kingdom that in real life was landlocked. And--spoiler alert--the play concludes with a statute coming back to life.

Anyway, it's a surprisingly Spiral-like play with a dream-like atmosphere, fairy-tale logic, and a Distortion-esque look at the fear of betrayal.

Silberescher: SCP-1425: Star Signals

Stine, R.L.: Don't Go to Sleep!

"Matt hates his tiny bedroom. It's so small it's practically a closet! Still, Matt's mom refuses to let him sleep in the guest room. After all, they might have guests. Some day. Or year. Then Matt does it. Late one night. When everyone's in bed. He sneaks into the guest room and falls asleep. Poor Matt. He should have listened to his mom. Because when Matt wakes up, his whole life has changed. For the worse. And every time he falls asleep, he wakes up in a new nightmare... "

Inception, for kids! Whenever Matt falls asleep, he changes reality -- and a group of special agents want to stop him by putting him to sleep, permanently.

Unknown, Voynich Manuscript

Many call the fifteenth-century codex, commonly known as the “Voynich Manuscript,” the world’s most mysterious book. Written in an unknown script by an unknown author, the manuscript has no clearer purpose now than when it was rediscovered in 1912 by rare books dealer Wilfrid Voynich. It's a strange code describing alchemical formulae and unknown life forms, and no one understands it. It's a mystery waiting for you to lose yourself in its pages.

Wells, H.G.: The Door in the Wall

This short story is about Lionel Wallace, who at the age of 5 encountered and entered a weird door. Behind it he found a beautiful and peaceful garden and felt such happiness and bliss, that when he was transported back on the street and escorted back to his home, he was very upset. He would see the door again many times later in life, but every time he will refuse to enter it due to his responsibilities (for example, to not be late to class, to catch a train, to be on time for an appointment). He grew up and became a successful politician, but the perfect world behind the door haunted him, and his success felt dull and boring. The book ends with people finding his lifeless body at the bottom of a pit, and that he had in poor light walked through a small doorway that led onto it. The narrator then speculates that maybe Lionel saw the perfect garden behind the doorway and was finally able to find happiness.

West, A.J.: The Spirit Engineer

Based on a real story about a guy who was convinced that one particular medium was the real deal. He completely upended his career for it, and wrote a paper on the science of the ghostly plane.

He did several shows, and got relatively famous. Eventually, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle [someone who wanted to believe] and Harry Houdini [An avid non-believer] invite him over to convince them that séances were real. In the process, Houdini completely disproves him, and outs the medium he thought was real as a fraud.

It turns out his wife and coworker had convinced the 'medium' and their family to run a prank on him. In his fury, he kills everyone involved, and then drinks Poison to try - one final time - to proove his theory.

Tldr: A real story who unknowingly changed his life and ruined his reputation because of the lies of the ones he trusted. When he realises, he looses his sanity and kills everyone around him, including himself.

 Whorf, Benjamin Lee: Relation of Habitual Thought and Behavior to Language

The famous text about language as a symbol that can never truly reflect reality can kinda fuck with your perceptions about how our language serves to construct our own realities. We're programmed to experience the world in different ways according to the way we interpret language.

Wyspiański, Stanisław: The Wedding

Relevant parts from Wikipedia

"The play's action takes place at the wedding of a member of the Kraków intelligentsia (the Bridegroom) and his peasant Bride. Their crossclass union follows a then fashionable trend of chłopomaństwo ("peasant-mania") among some Polish intelligentsia, who were often scions of the historic Polish szlachta (nobility). (...) Among the live guests are ghosts of personae from Polish history and culture, representing the guilty consciences of the living. The two groups engage in dialogues. The wedding guests are hypnotized by a rosebush straw-wrap (Chochoł) from the garden which comes to life and joins the party. (Offending a chochoł, according to folk beliefs, could provoke the thing to play tricks).The "Poet" is visited successively by the "Black Knight" (a symbol of the nation's past military glory); the "Journalist"; the court jester Stańczyk, a conservative political sage; and the "Ghost of Wernyhora" (a paradigm of leadership for Poland). (...)Thus the wedding guests, symbolizing the nation, waste their chance at national freedom. They keep on dancing a "chocholi taniec" (a "straw-wrap's dance") "the way it's played for them" (a Polish folk saying), failing in their mission." This play is as if patriotically motivated Spiral avatars crashed somebody's wedding, and I think it deserves consideration as Spiral Leitner.

[asukamood]

Rule Number 7: Never let Blue get the handcuffs (Christmas special)

***

Warnings: ahem

Synopsis: How in the world...

“Angeeeeel~” Blue’s singsong voice echoed through the hallway, coming closer as footsteps made their way toward Dream. Those sounds were followed closely by the rattling of a piece of metal.

The latter gulped, gripping the ends of the armchairs his wrist was handcuffed to. Soon, his boyfriend came to view with an eerie euphoric smile.

… did he get himself into this situation?!

***

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you guys have an amazing time this holiday and here you have my contribution to this quite marvelous holiday. Quite literally holy. BUT ANYWAY, NOT THE POINT.

This one-shot is based on a YouTube video from one of my favorite French youtubers, I didn’t really make up anything. I doubt any of you would be interested in seeing it but just in case, I will be leaving a link.

If one of your traditional Christmas dishes was dissed, I profusely apologize for it. All criticism here is used for comedic purposes, please don’t behead me.

***

How in the world...

“Angeeeeel~” Blue’s singsong voice echoed through the hallway, coming closer as footsteps made their way toward Dream. Those sounds were followed closely by the rattling of a piece of metal.

The latter gulped, gripping the ends of the armchairs his wrist was handcuffed to. Soon, his boyfriend came to view with an eerie euphoric smile, looking the other up and down with a strange glee.

“I hope you didn’t wait for me for too long!” He continued happily, reaching for Dream’s free hand. Once his fingertips brushed his skin, he grabbed his hand and tugged it toward him, approaching another pair of handcuffs to his wrist much to Dream’s dismay.

“It took me much longer to find this one, you should really tidy up your office, we have lost so much time already!” He lamented as the click of the handcuffs echoed in Dream’s head, like it was the beginning of his downfall. Which it might as well have been since he was not going to come out of this ‘session’ in one piece.

A beep indicated the anti-magic barrier had been activated on this pair as well.

Once he let his hand fall again, a wide grin stretched across Blue’s face as he leaned toward the other, tilting said one’s head so he would be looking into his blue eyes. “So, should we get started?”

… did he get himself into this situation?!

***

Half an hour earlier...

“I’m home!” Dream shouted as he opened the door, hanging his coat near the entrance. As he started to make his way toward the couch in the living room, a wild Blue with crossed arms and a pouting face appeared and blocked his way.

Dream sighed, patting his head. “I apologize, I was not expecting to have to intervene in another peace talk today.”

“You are going to have to make it up to me, you know?” Blue pouted again. “I am very upset by this unexpected betrayal.”

“Well, it is not like I did that on purpose. We can spend some time together later if you want, right now I just want to take a bath.” He slightly pushed Blue away, earning a noise of protest from said man. “By the way, I left your gifts back in that storage space in the backyard.”

“This time, you did not buy enough gifts that you had to mobilize multiple cars to deliver it here, did you?”

“...” Blue sighed, still looking displeased.

“Agh, whatever just go take a shower, I will make you something while waiting for you.” Dream opened his mouth to protest but was quickly shut down. Blue gave him an upset glare. “Angel, if you do not let me do this, I will go insane. You are not about to tell me you are going to go to sleep already, are you?”

Curse his sad puppy eyes!

Dream gave in, nodding. “Very well, I will be back soon.”

He turned around and once his back was facing him, Blue’s lips stretched in a huge Cheshire Cat grin.

Oh, this was going to be so good.

***

“You’re back!” Blue cheerfully welcomed him back, lacking the unhappiness from before. Dream sighed in relief at that before smiling back to him.

“I am,” he confirmed. “What are you making?” He questioned, Blue grabbing his hand and leading him to the table. He raised his eyebrows as he noticed that the chair he usually sat on had armrests now, though, he did not question it further.

“You will see!” Was it him or did his tone change just the slightest bit just now? “Take a seat for now, I will take it out soon!”

Dream nodded as he made his way toward one of the regular chairs...

… and immediately Blue’s expression dropped.

Noticing that, Dream heaved in another sigh as he put the chair back to place before plopping down on the unusual chair. Blue brightened up again.

He could not quite understand the reason behind that yet, but he supposed that a chair was a chair anyway, it was not changing anything major.

Blue disappeared into the kitchen again and Dream closed his eyes, allowing himself to doze off for a bit. While his guard was down, Blue went back into the room by the backdoor, a pair of handcuffs in hand.

Dream jumped up as he heard the click and beep of the handcuffs. “Wha-” he stared in shock at his restrained hand as Blue leaned in, next to his ear.

“That is for making me wait for so long, Dear.” He chuckled.

***

Dream gulped as Blue retracted his hand to his side, backing way into the shadows once again. When he came back, he was holding a tray in hand whose contents were hidden by a lid. The winged man stared at the object warily.

“What is inside?” he asked, earning an even wider grin.

“I am so glad you asked!” Blue lifted the lid, revealing an imposing piece of ham with slices of pineapple covering its top. Grapes were pinned to the slices of pineapple by plastic Christmas trees decorated with flashing LED lights.

“What...” Dream started in shock, stuttering. “What is this abomination?”

“It is called ‘Ham Pineapple’!” Blue chimed in, cutting a piece of said dish slowly as Dream watched in horror his every movement. “It is a Christmas specialty that comes from the United States, Hacker showed it to me a while ago and I thought I was finally going to make someone taste my own version of it. Really, thank you for agreeing to this!”

“I didn’t agree with anything, I am being held hosta--”

“Anyway!” Blue cut him off, raising the fork to Dream’s mouth level. “Say ‘ah’ “

The older one’s eyes were fixed on the piece Blue cut, his frightened state more than obvious with his facial expression. “Blue, listen. I profusely apologize for the wait, I really do. Please, do not do this.”

Though, the other remained deaf to his prayer, keeping on smiling. “Don’t forget to chew, I would hate for you to choke on this.”

Realizing there was no escape possible for him, Dream opened his mouth reluctantly, already imagining the Grim Reaper looking down on him in pity, raising its scythe early to shorten his suffering.

Blue pushed the meat and its cursed companions into Dream mouth. The latter’s teeth sank into the food and the juices of the pineapple, and the grapes started flooding his mouth, their flavor mixing along with the taste of the cold ham.

Dream wanted to throw up.

Blue chuckled at the sight of Dream’s pained expression, pushing the plate in a corner of the table. “I will get the next one!” He cheerfully announced as Dream’s face dropped off a few shades again.

THERE’S MORE???

***

“This one is a Christmas delicacy from Ethiopia!” He introduced, revealing a sort of pie on which pieces of meat and various local vegetables laid together happily. “I believe it is called Injera, it is pretty good if I do say so myself!”

Dream eyed the plate suspiciously, still not healed from the unpleasant and foreign taste on his tongue. “Do you really have to do this?”

His question was ignored as Blue scooped up a part of the pie before bringing it to Dream’s mouth again, smiling as he knew the other had no choice but to do as he asked if he wanted to escape.

Really, he only had himself to blame for having constructed such an intricate tool that could even nullify his own magic!

“Open wide!” Dream wanted to die.

He started chewing... only to have his eyes blown wide open as he started to move uncontrollably, the skin of his wrist turning red from being stopped by the cuffs for too long. He could feel tears threatening to fall as he felt his palate being teared off.

“Oh my!” Blue faked a shocked look as he brought his hand to his mouth. “My apologies, it looks like I forgot to warn you that some of those components are a bit spicy.”

A bit spicy? HIS THROAT WAS ON FIRE.

If Dream had any doubt of Blue trying to kill him, he had none now.

This was a murder attempt.

The worst part? It was working, Dream could literally feel his soul leaving his body.

He jolted as he felt his mouth being forced open as Blue shoved another spoonful of the dish inside.

Oh, that actually tasted good...

NEVERMIND IT WAS STILL AS SPICY--

Dream was going to die; he was sure of it.

“I hope you are still a bit hungry.” Blue smiled again, cupping his cheek lovingly. “I quite overestimated your appetite, but you will finish it all, will you not? I know you hate wasting food very much...”

YEAH WELL, HIS STOMACH COULD ONLY TAKE SO MUCH.

Was what Dream wanted to answer but he found himself unable to, the spice having stripped him of his ability to speak.

***

The next day...

“Boss is taking the day off?” Ink raised an eyebrow, perplexed.

Finch nodded. “He sent me a text this morning that claimed this at least, I wonder what happened.”

“Yeah, me too, Dream would rather kiss a bird than skip work.” Ink then proceeded to shrug. “Oh well, guess I actually have assistant work to do for once.”

***

Raise your hand if you thought they were going to bang

[dreamerrgirl]

Chenford ❤️ 5.13 fix it. Where everyone finds out?!

I've gotten a few requests to do this one! In my opinion, I think everyone, except maybe Nolan, already knows, or at least has their suspicions, and Tim switching jobs just confirms it for them. So here is my take on how that would go once everyone finds out about his new role!

"Why are you here?"

Angela's voice came from behind his right shoulder, where Tim could see her hovering over him in the reflection of his computer screen.

"This is my desk," he said plainly, spreading his hands over the space, as if it wasn't the most obvious answer in the world.

"Yes, I can see that, but what I want to know is why is this your desk?" Angela pressed, stepping forward to lean against it, Nyla moving in to perch herself on the left corner; the two women effectively boxing him in.

Leaning back in his chair, Tim sighed, his crossed arms mirroring Angela's. He knew this line of questioning would be coming sooner rather than later, but he and Lucy had agreed to keep their relationship under wraps for a little bit longer, so he was going to have to do some major deflecting to keep it that way.

"Tell me if I'm wrong, Nyla," Angela said, glancing over at her partner. "But this just isn't adding up. Tim Bradford, all the sudden taking a comfy desk job over patrol for no obvious reason?"

Nyla shook her head, her sharp gaze turning on Tim. "It's mighty suspicious if you ask me."

Looking between the two women, Tim shook his head, refusing to rise to their bait. "The pay is better," he finally said, shrugging.

"By maybe fifty dollars, annually," Nyla shot back doubtfully. "Nice try."

After a few more moments of silence, Angela shifted, leaning towards him as her hands came down to brace herself against the edge of his desk.

"Tell us, Timothy, this wouldn't have anything to do with a certain dark haired, recently single, female officer who you haven't been able to stop smiling at as of late, does it?"

Tim gave Angela his best T.O. no nonsense glare, noting the amusement dancing in her eyes as she conspiratorially leaned her head towards Nyla.

"Did you know they practiced kissing before they went undercover?" she asked, a shit eating grin on her face.

"No they did not," Nyla laughed.

"Angela!"

"What?" she asked innocently, batting her lashes at him.

"I told you that in confidence," Tim hissed, feeling like a cornered animal ready to be eaten. "I thought we were friends."

"Friends don't lie to friends, Tim."

Tim glared at her. "I haven't lied."

"No, but you haven't told me the truth, either." Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she winked at him. "Don't worry though, your bright red face is doing all the talking for you."

With one final laugh, Nyla left, leaving Tim to fume at Angela.

Tim watched as her grin slowly turned into a soft smile, her gaze losing some of its edge. "Jokes aside, I'm really happy for you; I haven't seen you this happy in well, ever," she said. Pushing off his desk, she stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I just hope taking this boring ass job isn't going to mess that up for you."

All Tim could do was shake his head in defeat. "They don't call us the dream team for nothing," Angela teased, patting his shoulder one more time before she walked off.

"No one calls you that," Tim grumbled under his breath.

As Angela's footsteps faded, he heard Aaron's sing-sing voice call from behind him, "I told you!"

Whipping around in his chair, he watched as Nyla and Angela both slapped a five dollar bill into the young officers hand, Aaron grinning like a Cheshire cat. He purposely looked anywhere but in Tim's direction, completely ignoring the senior officer glowering at him from the corner of the room.

"Told them what?" Nolan's voice rang out, he and Celina walking towards the group. Tim wondered briefly if he still had time to throw himself out a window- Lucy was going to kill him.

"That Sargent Sunshine over there and Lucy are dating," Aaron stated matter-of-factly, loud enough for the entire precinct to hear. Tim groaned, leaning both his elbows on the table as he buried his head in his hands, wishing he were anywhere else but here.

"What, really?" Nolan exclaimed.

"Oh definitely, their aura's have totally changed in the last few weeks, it's actually been really sweet to watch. They've been so in sync," Celina gushed. Tim was pretty sure he just threw up in his mouth.

"How's his aura looking now?" Nyla snickered.

"I hate you all!" Tim called, refusing to lift his head and turn around.

"Officer Nolan," Sargent Grey chided, his voice coming from the doorway of his office. "You seem surprised. Are you telling me you haven't noticed anything in the last month that made you wonder, even a little?"

"Well, I uh...no, Sir. Should I have?" Nolan asked, sounding very unsure.

"Yes," Celina, Aaron, Nyla, and Sargent Grey said, all at the same time.

"They've been incredibly obvious," Angela added.

"All right, all right, everyone back to work," Sargent Grey commanded, the humor still evident in his tone. "Let's give Sargent Bradford some room to breath, shall we?"

Thankfully, the gossip group finally disbanded, leaving Tim to wonder how Lucy was going to take the news that they apparently hadn't been as sneaky as they thought.

"Oh, and Officer Nolan," he heard Grey call, "I've got my eye on you. Don't give me a reason to make you my pet project again."

"Uh oh," Lucy's voice said from his left, Tim spinning around to find her standing there by his side, staring after Nolan. "That doesn’t sound good. What'd I miss?"

[xolliwritez]

Tripping Up || FMAB Tk Fic

A/N: exclusive thanks to @adrienisweird for the title <3, ilysm my dew drop it's insane qjxhehdh. Anyways, enjoy!! Do keep in mind I'm still rather new, so if I make them ooc, I apologise in advance.

Summary: Riza has had enough of Roy's behaviour, she takes it in her stride to fix it herself.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

"Gah.. seriously!?"

Riza heard Mustang groan in his office space behind closed doors, as she heard the ruffle of paper, as if he was scrunching it into a ball. She sighed and shook her head gently, a small smile tugging at her lips as she then knocked on the door.

"Not no- Riza?" Roy's frustrations subsided for now, as he looked at the blonde, she gazed down as she saw the torn paper, scraps in the bin.

"You throwing a hissy fit again?" She asked, amused as Roy rolled his eye's, pen back onto a new blank piece of paper, he held the pen there for a good minute before he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

"I'm not in a good mood, Riza. If you want to chat, we can later." Roy gruffed, she saw him a puppy going through a mood swing, as she shook her head gently.

"If it's frustrating you that much.." Riza walked towards Roy, as his gaze went slightly flushed, embarrassment hitting him. "Why don't you take a break?" She asked, standing infront of his desk, leaning against it slightly to emphasize.

Roy looked and groaned, he knew she wouldn't let him talk her out of it, so he got out his seat and placed the pen down, as he walked around his desk.

"Fine! Let us have a-woah!" He grunted as he hit the ground, he looked at her extended leg, seeing she purposely tripped him over, which only made his blood boil. "Riza-"

"Roy." She spoke back, rolling her shoulder's and cracking ger knuckles as she quickly straddled his waist, satisfied as he made a small 'oof' sound at the sudden weight ontop of him.

"Riza, what's the meaning of- Hngh-!?" His breath hitched, eye's darting down as Riza's gloved hand prodded against his lower stomach, a satisfied smile gleaming over her features as she kept it up. She seemed amused, watching him strain, attempting to keep his upset facade as she kept prodding against the same spot.

"Roy.." She leaned down to his ear, as he let out a loud gasp feeling her breath hit against the rim of his ear. "You know you can't hold back forever~" She purred, a cheshire grin spreading over her features.

Roy raised his hands as he extended them to grip around her wrists, he watched as his feeble attempts to limit her movements grew inefficient, as he let out a soft giggle, he free hand squeezing at his hip bone, making his body jolt and quiver under her touch. "Rihihiza! W-Watch it! Y-Yohou can't juhust- mhmhmhm!"

"Oh but Roy, I have." She smiled, her lips close to his ear still, making his cheeks swell with each tingly sensation. She couldn't lie, his giggling was rather addicting to listening to, especially when it was done by her very own hands. "I'm starting to think you actually like this, Colonel." She mused, watching as his eye's widened.

"T-Thahat's not truhue!"

He lied, the both of them knew how much he enjoyed being tickled, it was a way to relieve, refresh, relax for him. Riza couldn't help but find it adorable, and despite never admitting to it, she adored every single millisecond she spent near him.

During her daze, she was pulled back to reality as Roy let out a shriek, she took a moment to clasp her heart from the adorable sound before looking down, noticing the hand prodding at his mower stomach now slithered it's eay towards his side.

"Oh? Perhaps we should finish with a big bang, right?" She asked, holding back a laugh as feeble hands clasped the collar of her uniform, she feigned offense and gathered his hands up, she adjusted herself as she now sat behind him, his hands uselessly grabbing for thin air, as both her hands were now free.

"R-Rihihihiza- AHAHACK!? Rihiza! Noho! D-Dohohon't!" He jolted, loud whines and giggles slipping between his lips, all over her hands hovering above his worst spot - his side's.

"Roy.." She started, as he used all the might he could to try and lay still. As he tried, she grinned, a hand landing down and patting the top of his stomach, making his breath hitch as she spoke in a playful manner. "Good boy, staying still just for me." She said, as she slowly traced down, single digits syncing as they looped circles over the side's of his stomach, making him let out merely stray giggles.

"Gahahah- mhmhmhm! W-Wahahahait! Rihihirihihi!"

"Mustang, you sound like a girl giggling like that."

"D-Dahahahahamn yohohou!" He said, before his eye's went wide, he watched as he hands stopped, before hovering above his side's once more.

"W-Wahahahait! I'm sohohorry!" He giggled out loud, as his torso quivered under her suspense, yet she didn't reply, as hysterical laughter howled in the room once she descended. She scribbled against the fabric of his uniform, which served little to no protection, as he cackled aloud.

"My oh my, quite the loud mouth, aren't we?" She teased, her right hand stopped scribbling and went to give his right side some stray pokes to keep him slightly on edge, as he naturally leaned into his left side, legs kicking like he was on the marathon.

"R-RIHIHIHIZA!! Ohohoh- ohohoh my- OHOH GOHOSH!" He arched his back off the ground a few time's, as his heels dug into the ground, hysterical laughter being heard throughout the building. His head threw back, smooth yet adorable cackles escaping his lungs.

"Aw, look at you go! Kicking your legs like a mindless hamster on their wheel!" She purred out. She stopped for a moment, watching as he heaved slightly, as tears if mirth slightly showed.

"Are you going to behave, Roy?" She asked, looking at him upside down, amusement playing on her lips like strings on a harp. He did his absolute best to give her a confident grin, (however it came out more so silly) watching as Riza awaited his response.

"No way." He said, sighing as he closed his eye's. He thought he won.

..Before he heard the sound of leather peels away, the leather from her gloves subsiding, as she placed her gloves aside, watching as her pale hands slipped under his uniform, as her cold hands gripped his side's firmly, making him hitch out loud.

"Suit yourself, Roy." She said, but before he could reply, laughter invaded him once more, as she scribbled her nails along his sides rather gently.

She looked at Roy's face, stifling the urge to aw aloud. His eye's squinted shut hard yet adorably, a wide, genuine smile playing his lips as he kicked and wiggled underneath her. "AHAHAHA RIHIZA!! Ohoh my goho-GAHAD- NOHO! RIHIHIZA!"

He cackled out sweetly, and the two were absolutely enjoying themselves. She felt under her palms and fingertips, as he yelped and cackled aloud.

All until the door burst open, if was Hughs.

"I heard scre- oh?" Hughs narrowed a brow, a large grin on his face. "So, you really did get a wife! I'm proud of you, Ro-"

"Hughs.." Riza said, watching as he shivered and closed the door, a distant 'sorry!' erupting in the distance. She shook her head and chuckled, pulling her hands out and putting her gloves on. She got up and was ready to leave, until she felt a hand on her leggings.

"Roy, what do yo-"

"C-Can I get.." He mumbled the rest, a small blush on his features. She narrowed a curious brow, as she kneeled down to him.

"I couldn't hear you, speak up."

Roy grumbled, his cheeks growing more red, "I said, can I get a cu-" He paused as Riza gave his lips a peck, his entire face turning red, as he clung onto her like a needy koala. She chuckled and rubbed his back, kissing his forehead, as he whined into her shoulder, making her smile.

"You're such a baby."

"I know."

[beardedmrbean]

"Thugs" who travelled to Southport to use the deaths of three children "for their own political purposes" were to blame for the violence that saw dozens of police officers injured, the town's MP has said.

Unrest broke out in the Merseyside town hours after a vigil to honour the victims of Monday's knife attack at a dance school in which three young girls were killed and eight other children injured.

Patrick Hurley said the disturbance close to a mosque, which saw officers pelted with bricks and a police van set on fire, had been "horrific".

Merseyside Police Federation's Chris McGlade said more than 50 police officers were hurt in a "sustained and vicious attack".

Merseyside Police said the violence was believed to have involved English Defence League supporters.

Mr Hurley told BBC Radio 4's Today programme the "riot" was "led by people from outside the town".

He said the "thugs who had got the train in" had used the "deaths of three little kiddies for their own political purposes".

Mr McGlade said his injured colleagues were the same "courageous officers" who were themselves trying to come to terms with the "unimaginable tragedy" of Monday's attack.

"I utterly condemn the actions of these mindless and violent thugs - and they will be brought to justice for their actions," he added.

ACC Goss said it was "sickening" that the disturbance happened within a "devastated" community.

He said the force had faced "serious violence" and was "so proud to have witnessed off-duty officers parade back on duty to support their colleagues who had displayed such courage whilst under constant and sustained attack".

He also thanked officers from forces in Greater Manchester, Cheshire, Lancashire and North Wales for providing mutual aid and support.

He added that the disorder involved many people "who do not live in the Merseyside area or care about the people of Merseyside".

"Sadly, offenders have destroyed garden walls so they could use the bricks to attack our officers and have set cars belonging to the public on fire, and damaged cars parked in the mosque car park," he said.

"This is no way to treat a community, least of all a community that is still reeling from the events of Monday."

On Tuesday, Merseyside Police named six-year-old Bebe King, seven-year-old Elsie Dot Stancombe and nine-year-old Alice Dasilva Aguiar as the three girls who were killed at a Taylor Swift-themed dance workshop at the Hart Space studio in Hart Street.

At about 18:00 BST, more than 1,000 people joined a peaceful vigil was held outside the Atkinson gallery on Lord Street.

However, following rumours throughout the day of a demonstration, a group began to gather near a mosque on St Luke's Road, two streets away from Hart Street, at about 19:45 and engaged in a stand-off with police officers.

As the disorder escalated, the group attacked the front of the mosque, throwing bricks, bottles, fireworks and rocks, and officers donned protective gear and used riot shields to defend themselves as wheelie bins and other objects were hurled towards them.

A police vehicle was also set on fire.

Southport Mosque chairman Ibrahim Hussein said he had gone with colleagues to secure the building and had to be taken to a place of safety by police.

He told BBC Radio Merseyside that the group had "started to burn the fences and throw things burning stuff at the windows".

"They smashed all the windows, they broke all the fences and obviously, the chanting and the screaming and the anger just was overwhelming for all of us."

North West Ambulance Service said 27 officers were taken to hospital and 12 were treated and discharged at the scene.

Merseyside Police said those behind the violence had been fired up by social media posts which incorrectly suggested an Islamist link to Monday’s stabbings.

Home Secretary Yvette Cooper had earlier warned about disinformation linked to the attack.

A 17-year-old boy, who was arrested on suspicion of murder and attempted murder after Monday's attack, has no known links to Islam.

Assistant Chief Constable Alex Goss said there had been "much speculation and hypothesis" around the teenager and "some individuals" were using it to "bring violence and disorder to our streets".

"We have already said that the person arrested was born in the UK, and speculation helps nobody at this time."

Mr Hurley said it was "reprehensible" that police officers who had been attending injured victims on Monday were finding themselves "being pelted with bricks by these thugs".

He said they had "hijacked the grief" of the town and families.

"These people are utterly disrespecting the families of the dead and injured and totally disrespecting the town," he said.

A 24-hour Section 60 Order has been put in place, giving police extra stop and search powers.

A Section 34 Order has also been introduced, allowing police to direct people who were engaging in antisocial behaviour or were "likely to become involved in such behaviour" away from the area.

Merseyside Police said extra officers would remain in the area "to provide a visible presence and reassure communities".

Prime Minster Sir Keir Starmer said on X that the people of Southport were "reeling" after the "horror inflicted on them yesterday".

He said those who had "hijacked the vigil for the victims with violence and thuggery" had insulted the community and would "feel the full force of the law".

Families living nearby told the BBC they feared for their safety as stones flew past and police officers rushed to put on riot gear and pick up shields.

"I can’t believe this is happening in Southport," one young woman shouted from the front of her car as she tried to drive her young daughter away.

The home secretary said it was "appalling" that police officers in Southport were facing attacks from "thugs on the streets who have no respect for a grieving community".

"I think everyone should be showing some respect for the community that is grieving and also for the police who are pursuing an urgent criminal investigation now, and who showed such heroism and bravery yesterday," she said.

Merseyside Police and Crime Commissioner Emily Spurrell also said she was "absolutely appalled by the disgraceful scenes of violence".

"This is a community which has faced unimaginable tragedy, and it is grieving," she said.

"Such behaviour is abhorrent and only causes further harm and suffering," she added.

[thesmallmeggles]

WIP Wednesday

I'm still working on the Macaron & Zanzo "Burnout" fic. ✍️ Though this time around, I wanted to share a different WIP: "Zanzo's Revenge" (Aka "what if Zanzo had more presence in the DLC?")

Contains Spoilers for Arcade Mode! Update!

👇Is under the read more👇

"Mister Chai!" an all too familiar voice crows from somewhere out of Chai's sight line. "Destiny aligns our paths once more." Zanzo emerges from behind a server tower with a Cheshire cat grin.

Chai cocks his head to the side. "Shouldn't you be in prison or something?"

"I'm under more of a probation right now. But on to business!" Zanzo points upward. "I've arranged a special challenge for you."

....

Chai brings out his trash grabber with a flick of his wrist. "I beat you once. I can do it again."

Zanzo clicks his tongue. "Let's even the playing field."

An electric bolt jolts Chai where he standa, not unlike what occurred in the testing chambers. He feels drained. "Ugh, what happened now?"

"You've been downgraded!" Zanzo says with a little too much enthusiasm. "If you want your abilities back, you have to earn them."

*****

Chai finds himself inside a messy computer desk filled room. (Stagnant air, deactivated PGR-0101 units slumped over at their desks. An odd drone punctuated by beeps from a mini blimp encircling the space. Reading notes, some of them funny. Chai shudders at the contained DM-ET1L. A bearded robot wearing thick framed glasses had been pierced with multiple arrows, including one in the knee joint.)

On top of a desk at the furthest wall lays the gift basket in its red, gold, and Zanzo merch filled glory. Chai taps on one of its sides with his knuckles, relieved it is solid. Given the basket's pristine state compared to everything else in the room, Chai figures it must have been moved here recently. But who-?

"I forgot how creepy this room is." Zanzo mills mere feet behind Chai, scrutinizing his surroundings with a curled lip.

"Let me guess, this studio was one of your 'pet projects'," Chai says.

"While Vandelay Gameworks existed within the Research & Development Department, I wasn't responsible for its daily operations. Shocking as that may sound." Zanzo strides up to Chai's right. "For your exemplary performance - a long overdue reward." He bows at the waist, gesturing to the basket.

"Oh, sweet," Chai says. "I'll make sure to put it somewhere special."

Peppermint speaks up through 808. "All the junk in there will be great as target practice."

A half hearted laugh escapes Zanzo, and he rubs the back of his neck. "As long as it's useful to you, that's all that matters." A pause. "Now that everything's settled, farewell. I need to catch up on some episodes." He salutes Chai before turning around and appearing to blink out of existence. Right, the temporal displacement thingy, Chai reminded himself.

808's lights shift from blue to yellow as CNMN takes control of her. "This may be my observation alone, but didn't Zanzo seem uncharacteristically low energy during this interaction?"

"Was he? I didn't notice." Chai attempts to lift the gift box. It's not heavy, but its size makes it awkward to handle. "Let's get this up to the hideout. I'm dying to know what other goodies are inside."

"Wait for me, Chai!" Macaron calls out. He appears at Chai's side, scooping up the box one handed with ease.

****

Zanzo unplugs from the ceiling mounted terminal with a sigh. Handing over the gift basket to Chai went about as well as he expected. It'll take some time to decipher this jumbled yarn of inner feelings, but for now he needs to fly. With haste, Zanzo clears out the program tabs and shuts down the computer, plunging the office in darkness. He zips toward the door, stumbling over some object and catching himself in the same moment. The hallway is empty when he peered out. Good.

Apart from a few close calls, no one halts Zanzo in his retreat from Research and Development. Back when he was department head, he could readily excuse his after hours presence. He's unsure what he could say now. Intense LED streetlight almost drives Zanzo back into the building. (Imagine that being bothersome after being surrounded by lava!) Thank goodness his apartment is within walking distance so he won't need to suffer long.

Airi should be in charge mode, which means Zanzo can continue his stealth streak. Once inside his bedroom, he can remove his prosthetic legs and maybe one arm unassisted, but he would need help for the remaining limb. Crap. Although! Zanzo could press the release button against a wall and shimmy out of that second arm prosthetic. If Airi happened to roll in to check on him, he could say he passed out with it attached. Wouldn't be the first time.

Zanzo leans too far into the window, tumbling to the floor with a resounding thud. He hisses as pain wracked his body. Hopefully he didn't break any bones. That would be an awkward conversation for the doctor. Yes, I busted my rib cage climbing through a window.

Airi rushes through the door. "Zanzo! What are you doing?"

"I rolled out of bed?" Zanzo offers with a faint smile. He sits up, stiff but thankfully with minimal pain.

"I would believe that if you were anywhere near your bed," Airi says with their arms crossed. "And if you were not wearing your neural wires."

The wires twitch as Zanzo's smile becomes a grimace. "I had business to address, alright? A loose end in need of tying."

"You went to the AI Labs." Airi slams their grippers to their head, as anxiety rises in their voice. "The one place you are not permitted to be."

"This is a one time violation. It won't happen again. I promise."

"How could I have overlooked such an egregious security gap? There are going to be repercussions for sure."

"Airi." Zanzo places a hand on one of Airi's arms. They cease their anguished pacing, blinking at Zanzo with their huge yellow tinted eyes. "Take it easy, alright? You're going to burn out your battery."

"Will you tell me what you were doing in the AI Labs while I get you ready for bed?" Airi asks. "Seeing as it is currently twenty nine minutes past eleven o'clock pm?"

Zanzo glances at an alarm clock on a shelf with furrowed brows. "Curfew only applies to travel."

"A regular sleep schedule is integral to continued good health." Airi pauses, then adds with extra emphasis: "Including those with day jobs."

[astriiformes]

for the bandcamp post you rbed earlier, what were the cool music recs that you were mentioning in the tags? 👀

Been meaning to get to this ask for a bit and since today (12/2/22) is Bandcamp Friday (meaning all proceeds from purchases go directly to the artists!) I figured it was a perfect time to share recs!

Cheshire Moon are a really lovely filk duo (wonderful humans on top of making wonderful music) with several albums out. Highly recommend their stuff to people who like folklore and mythology, and I am a big fan of the electric violin that features heavily in many of their songs. Some of my favorite tracks of theirs include Banshee, Build Your Wings, and The Witch in Your Story

Run Boy Run are a folk/acoustic/americana group with some really phenomenal fiddle featured alongside their vocals. Some tracks of theirs I really like are Hoot Owl, Under the Boughs, their take on Waterbound, & Who Should Follow Who?

Derina Harvey Band are a Canadian Celtic rock group whose electric strings I also adore, they do cover of a lot of classic sea songs and folk music and I especially like their versions of Caledonia, The Mary Ellen Carter, The Last Saskatchewan Pirate, and Drunken Sailor

Vixy & Tony are a filk group with a REALLY incredible strings section who do a nice mix of some of their own songs and covers of some other classics (their version of Dawson's Christian remains my favorite I've heard, the cello on it alone is just incredible -- also, Dawson's Christian is the best, it's a classic filk space "ghost ship" story), I also quite like We Are Who We Are

Grace Petrie is a queer folk/protest singer whose stuff I have fallen a little bit in love with this year. Her music is often extremely political in the best way but also very, very heartfelt and I think it's my goal in life to be able to write parts like her fiddle player, Ben Moss. My very favorite song of hers is The Losing Side, which I have emotionally belted along to..... a lot this year, but I also highly recommend Northbound, We've Got an Office in Hackney, Storm to Weather, her version of Tom Paine's Bones, Farewell to Welfare, and last but not least by any measure, Black Tie (which is an ode to butch/gnc identity that also got me to cry the first time I heard it over on the transmasc side of things)

The Faithful Sidekicks are a rock filk group that leans equally sincere and comedy (and also are really lovely humans, who I got to hang out with a bit at DragonCon this year!). I know they have a fun new parody album out I have not listened to yet, but some of my favorites of theirs are I Built a Time Machine, Fatty Bolger, Spoons, Meetings, and Sancho Panza.

Beth Kinderman & the Player Characters are some friends of mine who also make really excellent, largely acoustic filk. Someday they will hopefully release their newest album which has some songs I'm dying to be able to buy, but in the meantime I also really like Supernatural Aid, Refusal of the Return (both off a whole concept album that's a feminist deconstruction of the Hero's Journey), The Dread Gazebo, and Across the Water, which is technically about Game of Thrones but honestly, as a non-GoT fan, also just slaps

And for a rapid-fire round of a few more favorite songs: try Ship of Stone by Leslie Fish, Home to Me by Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, Oops We Split the Party by Clearly Guilty, Everybody Hates Elves by Kari Maaren, Neil Armstrong by Cat Faber, Row On by Ninebarrow, Somebody Will by Sassafrass, and Cheshire Kitten by S.J. Tucker

Also, if I can be shameless for a moment at the end here, my filk duo, Astrisoni, has an EP and a rough apartment-recorded single up on our page. We're hoping to maybe get some more songs up next year, but for now there's at least a couple of things!