#if you have access to a university library especially!!!!!!!!!

[lesbianyosano]

re that post about watching bsd and suddenly wanting to read 20+ books, for the love of god try reading something thats not no longer human or crime and punishment. tanizaki, natsume and akutagawa are considered to be one of japan's most influential writers for a reason and they can be 10 times easier and more accesible than dazai or dostoevsky. higuchi's stories too. please please please reach further than your favourite anime twink pleasee

[billowypantss]

cant even be pro library anymore. because of woke

this library is so small and pathetic and hostile you literally by posted policy aren't allowed to use the toilet more than 10mins under penalty of specially stationed toilet cop busting in and they don't have a book return slot because idk making things too convenient might attract the poors. and the printing costs are egregious and for what. one working computer & no ink in the cartridge ever

[mv1simp]

Based on darling 🍑 🛒 anon’s request: max x inexperienced best friend!reader who hears him complaining about how hard it is to find a girl who’ll match his freak in bed 😼

Birthday Sex ♥️

Max Verstappen x Best Friend!Reader

don’t need candles or cake, just need your body to make (birthday sex, it’s the best day of the year, girl)

As Max’s best friend since childhood, you know him better than anyone. You’re determined to find the best birthday gift after he’s outdone you the past three years. Just when you’ve given up all hope of beating him you overhear him complaining that none of his recent girlfriends let him hit it just the way he likes. Bingo - you’ve just thought of the perfect gift!

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dom!max, inexperienced best friend!reader who gets railed lol, size kink, anal, creampie, sloppy drunk sex!!, WC 3.3k

You slump your head down on the table and groan, making your best friend Selena quirk as brow at you as she sips her strawberry iced matcha. Across the room, the elderly librarian scowls and points to the sign clearly labelled “University Library - Quiet Zone for Finals Study”. You roll your eyes and drag Selena away to some dusty bookshelf’s well away from the old crone. You still haven’t found a present for Max? Your friend muses as she noisily slurps her drink, eyeing the dubious titles on the ancient books. Shaking your head, you whine about how you’ve spent weeks thinking of what to gift the F1 driver. You and Max have been best friends since childhood, having grown up literally 2 doors down from one another. After getting over the initial boy/girl germs phase, you’d both connected over a like for video games which had turned into a loyal and supportive friendship into teens and adulthood. And of course, you both strongly believed in work hard, play hard, and frequently would be seen doing multiple shots together out in the Monaco clubs after a race weekend or post exam season.

Despite all the time you’d spend together, things had never crossed the line past friendship. It was always heavily speculated in the media, of course, as well as constant teasing from the other paddock members and your friends and family, but both you and Max dismissed it. He treated you like one of his guy friends, inviting you over to game or come onto his private jet with his other mates to fly out for a race weekend. And of course, being good friends with a millionaire driver meant being spoilt, especially on your birthday. Max always picked up on your hints and outdid himself every year. Last birthday you’d had not one but two custom made jewellery sets delivered from Cartier when you’d mentioned them in passing, and the year before that unlimited VIP box seats to your favourite soccer team and access to his private jet to get you there.

So that’s why you’re desperate to find Max the perfect present for his birthday this year. You want to spoil him just like he spoils you! But he’s been busy with his new girlfriend, a Spanish model he met in St Tropez, and you in the final semester of your English Lit degree and you haven’t had a chance to hear what’s he’s been interested in lately.

You’ve thought up countless ideas, but what do you get a man who literally can afford anything he wants? You’ve cycled through all of his likes, finding that he already owns everything you could possibly buy. Your friend Serena is useless as she watches you plead up at the ceiling (dramatic, sure, but desperate times call for desperate measures) asking for any Gods watching above to send you a sign of the right gift. You could always just get him a vibrator, she joked as she slurped her iced coffee. You know, like the one I got you? Have you been using it? Seriously, we need to end this dry spell and get you dicked down- At that point the old crone of a librarian had let out a scandalised gasp as she overheard and kicked the pair of you out.

You’ve almost given up completely and drop by his apartment a few days before his birthday, ready to just directly beg him to tell you what he wants and put you out of your misery. You let yourself in, already familiar with his spare key hiding location for years. And then you stumble across a conversation that’s not meant for your ears as Max’s deep voice carries around the corner. He’s on video chat with one of his mates playing an e-sim racing game, but they’re definitely not talking about racing strategy.

I don’t know mate, why is it so hard these days to find a chick who’ll let you hit it raw? one of his friends complain over the speakers. Your eyes widen, hand rushing up to stifle your gasp as you realise they’re talking about what they like in the bedroom. You and Max had never talked about something like this, and you’re about to turn and leave - when your best friend says something you’d never expected him to say. He snorts, murmuring that sure, getting to finish inside was good but the real challenge was convincing a girl to let you fuck her up the ass.

His friend laughs on the screen, wholeheartedly agreeing, saying Ah, I see even a F1 driver can’t find a girlfriend who’s into that freaky shit, huh? You miss Max’s reply because his cats, Sassy and Jimmy, have started to walk over to you curiously. You hightail it out of his apartment, desperate not to get caught eavesdropping with your blushing face and jumbled thoughts. You only let yourself calm down once you’re in the safety of your much smaller apartment, sinking into your sofa and recounting what you’d heard. You and Max had never ever talked about sex, even though he treated you like his guy friends, that was a line you’d just never crossed. You’d never have guessed he was into something so naughty like not using protection or…what had he said? Up the ass?

You’re not 100% sure on what he means, with your rather…limited sexual experiences. While Max regularly slept with multiple different flings and models, your hook ups could be counted on one hand. You’d lost your virginity, of course, to an awkward college boyfriend that Max had hated and eventually told you to break up with. But apart from a few sloppy handjobs or quick drunk blowjobs, you really hadn’t explored much else. You were jealous of how much more experienced Max was than you, having sometimes overheard him and his latest girlfriend celebrating a race win from a neighbouring hotel room. But it looked like despite all of the girls he’d been with, he wasn’t getting the satisfaction he wanted in bed. And apparently what satisfied the Dutch Lion was fucking girls who let him take the condom off or use their ass to his liking.

Determined to find out more about what exactly Max wanted, you open the private browser of your laptop and type in a porn site you’d looked at a couple times before. You navigate to the tags, scrolling until you see the category you wanted to research. As you wait for the top trending video in the #Anal section to load you bite your lip, suddenly nervous. Why did Max say he wanted that? It sounded dirty and painful and just wrong. Was there something you were missing?

Then the video started playing and within seconds you’d lost any inhibitions you had. Hypnotised, you watch the screen where a small, tan skinned girl is face down and ass up, with a much larger man running his tongue obscenely through her asscheeks. She’s moaning wantonly, clearly enjoying it, and then his sizeable dick is bouncing out against her bum, messily pounding her pussy first, and then - and then-

Your doe eyes widen, fixed on the laptop with a gasp as his tip slides past her pussy and into her other hole, the one you hadn’t even known could fit a guy’s dick inside it! You’re enraptured, not wanting to blink as you watch her asshole get completely ruined. Your lace thong is rapidly soaked by your wetness as you start panting, finding yourself turned on in a way you’d never ever been before. This is what your Maxie liked? It was so hot, you think sluttily, shamelessly slipping your tiny manicured fingers into your panties to finger yourself at the forbidden thought of you and Max acting out the activities in the video. You cum far too quickly, head tossed back in pleasure. Afterwards, you know you should feel embarrassed and guilty, but instead all you can think about is how badly you want to try having sex with your other tight hole.

And you know exactly what to gift your best friend. Max deserves to get exactly what he wants, after all.

Soon you’re watching dirty video after video every night, telling yourself you need to practise the positions and expressions yourself. But really you’re just addicted to the moaning of girls getting their asses abused by huge cocks, or having the coy smirks wiped off their faces and instead rolling their eyes back as their pussies are pumped full of cum. The bullet vibrator Serena had gifted you as a joke now finds itself making its way in between your dripping thighs, as you cum nightly to the fantasy of being able to provide Max with that pleasure. If his latest girlfriend of the month wasn’t willing to put out for him, you certainly had no problem helping your best friend out instead.

You make sure you’re ready by the time his birthday party rolls around, being celebrated in style aboard his yacht that’s docked in Ibiza tonight. You’ve chosen your outfit carefully, a tight red minidress that shows off your plump ass and tits, complete with strappy high heels. It highlights your ample curves, very different from his usual fling’s stick thin figures. And speaking off - you knew that he must have broken it off with his latest girlfriend judging by the fact that she wasn’t here tonight. Your suspicions are confirmed when a mutual friend tells you he dumped her just two days ago, citing a difference in personalities. More like a difference in kinky preferences, you thought deviously. You just needed to confirm that Max was willing to cross the line of no return in your friendship. Judging from the way his gaze had turned dark and hungry when he’d seen you step onto his boat, roaming over your figure, you were pretty confident that you’d be able to proceed in unveiling your gift.

As the party continues well into the night, you join everyone in dancing and drinking, using the tequila shots as an excuse to why you’re suddenly grinding your fat ass back into Max’s crotch amidst the crowded makeshift dancefloor. When you hear Max laugh in delight, strong hands possessively curling around your hips to keep you against him, you know he wanted you, too.

So when the last of the partygoers are heading off the yacht to join the others in the Ibiza clubs, you take Max’s hand in yours to tug him away, back onto the other side of the yacht where you’re well away from anyone’s eyes and facing the night ocean. He willingly goes, checking out your curvy ass from behind, his own face flushed from the drinks he’d had. You’re tipsily giggling that he had to open your present! as you gently push him onto the outdoor couch, plucking your cutely wrapped small gift box and offering it to him. As he opens it, you eagerly sit down by his side, pressing in close to his warm, toned chest with the excuse of its cold, Maxie.

You don’t miss how his gaze drops to your plush tits, which bounce with every movement and show off your hardened nipples as you’d chosen to only wear a skimpy lace bralette underneath. He easily plays along with your excuse, wrapping his thick arm around you to pull you onto his lap and settle against his broad figure. You giggle again when he finally opens the gift box, only to find it…empty? He looks up at you, laughing as he assumed you’d forgotten to pack your present in your drunk antics tonight.

But the plan in your mind is razor sharp as you breathily press kisses to his stubbled cheeks, making his lustful gaze flicker to your lips as the tension between you two grows. You whisper that you hadn’t forgotten, in fact, you’d gotten him the perfect gift, exactly what he’d been complaining to his gaming friends about not being able to find. The present was just inside you, was all!

Max is still adorably confused, not entirely sure what you were referring to as you slide off his lap after pressing a barely there kiss to his lips. He watches you curiously as you press your blushing cheeks into the sofa and stick your thick ass up in the air. Your already tiny minidress slides down your hips, exposing your soaked, lacey thong that barely covered the true surprise - a cute heart shaped butt plug. Max’s jaw drops and for a minute he thinks he must be dreaming, or had gotten super drunk, or this was some sick joke his friends had set him up for. Until you seductively jiggle your hips at him, fat ass bouncing, your sweet voice almost innocently asking if he likes his gift?

Oh, I fucking love it, sweetheart he assures you with a wicked grin, once he realises just what you were giving him. It’s so much better than anything I could have asked for. Your pleased giggle quickly turns into pleased moans as he plays with the toy, teasing you by slowly pulling it out a bit before sliding it back in. He pulls his raging erection out of his pants, telling you to come here and suck me off, getting his cock ready to fuck you. You obediently lick up and down his length, covering it with your messy drool and lip gloss, making sure it’s as wet as possible. His muscular neck is thrown back against the sofa as he moans above you, a strong hand tangled through your curls as he tries to control the pace but can't resist your talented mouth teasing his over sensitive tip. He almost cums from your enthusiasm, hips stuttering and he swears in dutch as he has to forcefully pull on your dark locks to move your plush lips off him. You cheekily grin up at him, winking, asking was that too much for him?

He tosses you around in half a second, making you giggle into the soft pillow as he raises your ass into the air, growling that he’d have done this a long time ago if he knew what a needy slut you secretly were. You shake your hips enticingly at him, ass bouncing, enjoying how his sexy voice got even deeper and accented when he was dirty talking. Swearing at your tempting display, he delivers a strong smack to your cheeks, and then a second one for good measure, before nudging his cockhead up against your dripping slit. He hushes your whines, telling you that he needed to get a taste of your pussy, the one he’d been dreaming about when you’d stay the night after a late movie and rub your ass into his erection in your sleep, edging him for hours. Did you even know how many times he had to go jerk off to the mental image of your ass in the shower?

You moan in pleasure as he fucks you sloppily, whispering about the time he hadn’t been able to resist and pulled your panties down in your sleep, wanting to jerk off to the real thing and leaving his cum all over your caramel skin. Th-that’s soo hot, Maxie you whine, already feeling fucked out of your mind. Go-go on, cum instead me, you say breathlessly. I started the pill just for your present tonight!

Groaning at your naughty confession, he pumps one last, deep thrust before he's tensing above you, a bruising grip on your hips as he holds you still to drain his load deep inside you. He's panting deeply as his head comes to rest on the back of your neck, the two of you enjoying your blissful comedown together for a few minutes. You can’t believe how heated things have gotten tonight after being friends for years. We could have been hooking up this whole time, it was so good Maxiee you whine against his lips as he presses his tongue into your pouting mouth.

Chuckling at your eagerness, he filthily whispers that you could start by giving him the next part of his birthday gift, hmm? You nod breathlessly, unable to say no to your precious Maxie. He palms your juicy asscheeks with his large palms, squeezing at your flesh greedily. Soon enough he’s fingering your tight, winking hole from above you, telling you to hold your asscheeks apart for him as he messily spits right over where he plans to fuck you. Just the tip, right, Maxie? You repeat again, feeling unsettled with not knowing what he was doing behind you, when he stopped to stare at your cute little hole for a few minutes. Your blushing face is still buried into the cushions as your nails dig into your bouncing ass and hold it apart for him. I've never had anything...inside there before, you say, cheeks warming. So you can't stretch it out, okay, I read that it-

Yeah, yeah baby Max says distractedly, hypnotised by your inviting tight hole that is filling him with a growing desire to ruin it every passing second. Whatever you say. Dousing himself in lube from the supply he keeps stashed in between the couch cushions, he approaches you from behind, his erect cock standing stiff as you jiggle your hips. His tip nudges against your back entrance, making you moan excitedly at foreign but tingly feeling. Then he’s thrusting his leaking cockhead in and out of your hole, and you’re babbling incoherently, your face turned to the side as you gasp mouthfuls of air. Oh, it feels sooo good, mmhhh, yes Maxie-

He growls approvingly at your desperate whining, smacking your red asscheeks again and again to make them bounce. Feels amazing, right baby? he hums into your ear, pressing his abs down against your back. The new position makes his cock accidentally slide in just a little more and you arch your back more when the tingly feeling gets stronger as he slips a large hand around to toy with your sensitive clit. You’ll let me put in just a little bit more, right baby? Max whispers huskily, his hungry eyes taking in your drooling, fucked out face. You were in so much bliss he doubts you’d be able to say no to anything he asked for. O-ok, a little bit more- Ohh! Oh fuck!

You cry out as he doesn’t hesitate to slip inside you even further. It’s a good thing you can’t see the filthy mess behind you because Max has bullied an easy third of his rigid, veiny shaft inside your gummy walls. He groans against the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as he praises how good you take his fat cock, better than any of his girlfriends. He knows just what to say to have you seeing stars as he continues to shove more and more of himself into your tight hole. Fuck schat, giving me the best birthday treat ever, I’m gonna be addicted.

You’re on Cloud 9-, pink tongue poking out of your mouth and drooling all over the cushion, pretty doe eyes rolled all the way back as Max pounds into your all too willing body. You can barely reply coherently when he croons that he’s just gonna slide a bit more in, that’s right, just like that, you can take it for him, right?

His whole cock is buried inside your ass now, beads of sweat running own his toned abs. And soon you’re screaming his name as he greedily fucks you, grunting with pleasure at each thrust. You can only cross your fingers and hope none of your friends come back from the club early.

—————————————————————————

A/N: back to my old FILTHY ways after writing a 9.5K mafia fic just to give u all whiplash will finally be posting part 2 of earned it v soon with dedicated hot husband max hehehe 😝

[qqueenofhades]

hi I hope you don't mind but I would love to hear your long tired historian rant you mentioned in your tags on that one post, if you feel in the mood to share? (no pressure!)

(also thank you for existing, you do wonderful work and the world is a better place for you being in it)

Aha. Well. For context, the mention of said rant was in relation to this post:

Basically, this post struck a nerve because of how it exactly encapsulates the anti-intellectual, anti-academia, anti-historical, anti-reality thinking that is absolutely rampant in social media spaces, even and especially spaces that identify as leftist, liberal, or otherwise "superior" to the right wing when it comes to identifying fake news or misinformation. (Example A: anything ever written by a self-proclaimed leftist on Twitter.) We all know that there are huge problems with the American public school system (and the people writing this are almost always American) and the American practice of education in general, and that yes, there are many things that happened in the past (or y'know, the present!) that are not taught very well, or at all. But because the American public school system is so decentralized and largely autonomous, incredibly dependent on the temperament of local superintendents and/or school boards, taxation and funding, availability of teachers, requirement of useless standardized tests, etc., it is very difficult (if not outright impossible) to claim that this is the result of a Unified Grand Conspiracy To Not Teach Real History To The Youth In Order To Make Them Mindlessly Support Capitalism. That is the exact sort of deranged conspiratorial thinking that the right wing does and fits everything into a sinister narrative about how "They" are planning to keep you ignorant and therefore nothing harmful that you ever think or do is really your fault. It's not good.

(Whoosh. That was very calm and reasonable of me. For the rest of this post, please just picture Captain Holt "apparently that's a trigger for me" dot gif.)

Also: even in public school, and despite the Republicans' best efforts, there are plenty of opportunities to study complex or "controversial" subjects. For example, I spend a week every June grading AP Euro History exams with a lot of other educators in a giant windowless steel box (woo-hoo, fun times!) Every year, there are questions on the exam about women's rights, imperialism and exploitation, slavery/race relations, the development of capitalism and the current economic model, religion and science, the history of labor, and other topics that would be considered "controversial" if you're an idiot. This is an exam taken by high school students in all grades from across the country, and there are also AP World History and APUSH (US history) exams every year which are doubtless making an effort to address similar themes. This is an advanced program, yes, but it's widely available to many schools and is not a result of a sinister plot to keep the youth from discovering the truth. Also: you live in an era of absolutely unprecedented access to information. Put down the ChatGPT bullshit generator and visit a goddamn public library. Or even open Wikipedia. The tools are there for you to start educating yourself and they are so easy to find!!!!!

The "Historians Are Hiding The Truth!!!" narrative becomes even more ridiculous in university-level or professional academic historical-study spaces, especially when historical educators and associations (such as the American Historical Association) have been at the forefront of pushing back against right-wing efforts to censor history, punish teachers, and remove culture-war subjects from classrooms. Also as someone who has advanced degrees in history, has taught/worked in several universities in different countries, writes and publishes historical research, and otherwise participates professionally in the field: trust me, we aren't "hiding" shit. There are vigorous debates and disagreements on various bogglingly obscure subjects and points of clarification and so forth, but that doesn't mean we're not talking about them (trust me, we're often talking about them too much). If you're issuing confident blanket statements about how "historians are conspiring to hide x," you're an idiot.

This also has dangerous repercussions in the field of, say, politics and civics, where a lot of absolutely braindead Online Leftists have spent the last four years posting deranged nonsense on social media and then, whenever they're called out on it for that not actually being how anything works at all, whining that "I was never taught this!!!" (And yet, it somehow never actually changes their perspective or their theories....) They whine about how "they didn't know this" and it was someone else's fault, they make up total fantasy about what the Biden administration did or should have done and now are still happy about Trump coming back because "It will teach the Democrats a lesson!!!" and otherwise accelerating us oh-so-quickly down that slippery slippery fascism slope. Their weaponized ignorance and their magical fantasies about what "should" have happened often come back to this same learned helplessness, where it's everyone else's fault (especially Capitalism's) that they're total wankers. Look: I'm not a goddamn fan of capitalism either. But we all grew up in this same system, and some of us aren't raving idiots, so at some point, you have to take the tiniest modicum of personal responsibility for the information you seek out, the content you consume, the opinions you propagate, and the people you surround yourself with. Shocking.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, Online Leftists are actively and unrepentantly enabling American fascism and should be treated in the same way as we treat MAGA when it comes to deciding what is good or worthwhile information. This is because their entire political philosophy (insofar as their beliefs can be dignified with the term) is based on the "make shit up and remove it from any basic empirical references, grounding in reality, or 'should I run the most basic Google search and see if I'm completely talking out of my ass in a distorted social media echo chamber? Nah I'm good' " technique. This is, as the original tweet above references, trying to retcon sheer malicious laziness and stupidity into grand ideological theories about how it's actually "better" that they don't know a damn thing and won't shut up. It's your evil history teacher's fault, or "academics are all rich and elitist" (ask any academic-precariat person like me and we will laugh hollowly and then throw monkey poop at you), or "They" wouldn't let you learn this, or on and on. Even in our terrible, awful, no-good very-bad timeline, there are still ample tools to educate yourself, to learn how to filter out bad information and junk news, and otherwise gird yourself even a little for the even-more-massive assault on empirical reality that we are about to experience in the next four years (ugh). I suggest you take advantage of them.

[scarfacemarston]

RDR LGBT History Reading List

I meant to post this earlier, but life happened, but at least it's before the end of pride month! Notes: Why are there so few books? Well, that's almost everything I could find. I researched two university libraries, my public library, and Amazon. People began writing about this subject in the 1990s. A lot of people are NOT receiving funding to write about these topics, so that's another reason. I'm sorry there aren't more accessible books, but this is likely all you'll find. These books are almost all MLM because historians believe that they are more prevalent in the archives and society. Notice how there is only one book about lesbians and it only has about 30 pages that pertain to RDR. That's it. The "Re-dressing" book contains some lesbian scholarship, but it's next to none. It's very disappointing. There are literally people who have written about how difficult it is to write about lesbians, but the fact that there is basically NOTHING really bothers me. I think some of it is sexism and some of it is laziness.

Love Stories: Sex between Men before Homosexuality by Jonathan Ned Katz

Amazon: Here Archive: Here

I actually own this book so that’s a good sign right there. Unfortunately, I can’t find the book so I had to rely on the previews. It starts off with pretty early history with Abraham Lincoln and his alleged lover. I really like this author’s writing style. It’s professionally written, but doesn’t talk above the reader. I would say he’s very approachable. I love how many quotes and other primary sources he included like the plethora of pictures, portraits and related media. I found the book to be a quick read and I think it’s a good start for beginning history readers.Yes, the book does cover the West and the different love stories that pertain to that era, so yes, it will fit Vandermatthews and later Charthur or similar ships.

2. Loving: A Photographic History of Men in Love 1850s-1950s by Hugh Nini and Neal Treadwell

Amazon: Here. Archive: Sorry, not uploaded here yet. Might have to sail the seven seas for this.

This is a newer book and newer books aren’t usually uploaded to archive.org yet. This is definitely a book I would get at the library, unless you like “coffee table books” and conversation pieces. The book itself is lovely from what I can tell and it’s obvious how passionate the authors are and the diligent work they did to produce the book. As a historian, I’ve only had a taste of how terribly difficult archival work. I’ve worked with archives for six years. It’s HARD work, especially having to find hidden histories like this. It’s a lot of luck. So the book itself is amazing in what it contains, but  you wouldn’t know that by the preface. Skip it. It’s the most pretentious thing I’ve ever read. Of course, this will scratch the Vandermatthews itch and it does contain later history that would relate to John, Arthur, etc. But overall, definitely a book worth checking out at the library/or other archives. 3. Queer Cowboys: And Other Erotic Male Friendships in Nineteenth-Century American Literature by C. Packard.

Amazon: Here. Archive: Here.

This book is difficult to review because the previews are so short. Just about 7 pages for one link and 12 for the other. I wasn’t able to check out the book either so my review is kind of worthless here. From what I can tell, this is a good book and that many people seem to enjoy it.From what I can tell, it covers a wide berth of history and the “West”. It seems to be one of the “Must reads” in the history field, but to be fair, we also don’t have many LGBT+ “Old West” books in the field. From what I read of the previews, they write in an easy fashion and I liked the pictures that were included in the GoogleBooks preview. The author also stresses the importance of including Native American, African American and Mexican voices. This is the first book that has been so blunt about inclusivity, so I consider that a big win. I’d say the book is worth checking out.

4. Re-Dressing America's Frontier Past by Peter G. Boag

Amazon: Here. Archive: Here. Sadly, it needs a university/college/high school library connection.

This is a really good book. I included it because of Sadie Adler, but some could use it for Charles Chaterney. This is very inclusive for transgender people and nonbinary, but it also covers Cis women who feel that it is most convenient or enjoy dressing up as men. However, there is the element of the stereotypical “Who plays the man in the relationship” dynamic instead of talking about how these relationships can be a step towards equality. However, at the same time, the male identity was important to some people so it makes sense in a way in order to “legitimize” the identity for the person who is cross dressing or trans. It’s entirely possible that my idea of equality is just too new of a concept, though. (At least, in terms of white society.) The book is extremely easy to follow and has so many primary sources. I loved reading so many of the quotes from the individuals themselves instead of just from those around them. There are also tons of pictures, ads, newspapers, and other ephemera. Highly recommend this book. 

5. Frontier Comrades: From the Fur Trade to the Ford Car by Jim Wilke.

Amazon. Here. No archive. This book hasn’t been released yet, but I have high hopes for it, especially given the diversity of the case studies. This is one of the few books that seems to feature lesbians of different background, but I’m also intrigued by the differences in case studies featuring men.

6. Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers: A History of Lesbian Life in Twentieth-Century America by Lilian Faderman

Amazon: Here. Archive: Here.

I used this book for my LGBT history for Marvel list. I own this book. Lillian Fadermen is literally the premiere historian of lesbian history. Like, there may be only ONE other historian that rivals her. If you want lesbian history, especially inclusive to transgender women, this is where you go. Don’t let the age of the book fool you. This book is actually on two of my LGBT lists because of the span it covers. This book covers everything, I swear. With all that said, her writing can be a bit dry. Some parts of the book were a bit of a slog, but she does use a lot of primary resources and that livens it up a bit. Her book’s later chapters definitely has diversity in it, especially covering Harlem.However, for Sadie and Abigail (and co) I would recommend chapter 1 for Boston Marriages, even though they focus more on Upper class women, and chapter 2 gives more of a view of “Everyday women” in this time period. Interestingly, they included sex workers.

[specialagentartemis]

If people are in the mood for some good, solid documentaries about history:

Time Team and Time Team America are good depictions of archaeology in Britain and the U.S., respectively; they can be a bit gimmicky sometimes, sometimes a little dramatized, but are overall very solid in their history and depiction of What Archaeologists Do! There are 20 seasons of the British show and 2 seasons of the American one, covering a broad range of historical and archaeological sites. They're fun without getting too reality-TV-ish. Many episodes can be watched for free on Youtube - some on the official Time Team channel, some thanks to one very dedicated uploader.

If you are in the U.S. or Canada, you can watch a lot of PBS specials on PBS.org. They have a really impressive range! Some, like Ken Burns's collection, you need a donation/membership to view; others are free for anyone in the US and Canada. "Ice Age Footprints" is a Nova special about the 22,000 year old White Sands site in New Mexico and is one of my favorites on their site.

And I will keep plugging Kanopy. It's a free streaming service that you can access with a library card or university affiliation! See if your public library, or your university, has access. Their focus is indie film, international film, classic cinema, and documentaries. They have LOTS of documentaries! They have Ken Burns's whole collection (I really like "The American Buffalo"), they have a lot of PBS and BBC specials (I'm a big fan of "Easter Island Origins"; it's VERY cool), and they have a brilliant and sad and infuriating and really, really well-done three-part series called "Race: The Power of an Illusion" about the history and construction of race and racism, especially in America, which I highly recommend! But there are SO many documentaries on Kanopy to browse.

The three-part series “Murder in Boston: Roots, Rampage & Reckoning” is incredible and infuriating (intentionally). It’s a history of the murder of Carol Stewart in 1989, and the subsequent racial tensions, racist policing, community fracturing, and uncomfortable truths that came out. A white man called the police saying a Black man had jumped out of the shadows, stolen his car, and murdered his wife. The police accepted this story uncritically. This documentary series does a really good job of following the manhunt, the fallout, the police brutality, and the way the truth came out over the next several months.

The series “OJ: Made In America” is a similar spirit, riveting and brilliant and tragic, about O.J. Simpson, his life and career, his position of celebrity at the time of increased racial tensions between the police and the Black population of Los Angeles—and while the murder is shocking and horrible, the series makes the public response to it feels inevitable.

These are just a couple sources to check out and some documentaries I thought did a good job. If you can’t find one of these streaming, you can also try to see if your local library has DVDs of ones you’re interested in.

(And as always, think critically about documentaries too! Ask yourself “Who made this? What are their credentials? Their biases? Their sources? Their evidence?” There are some """documentaries""" out there that are like. Graham Hancock ancient Atlantis nonsense. Unfortunately.)

[sapphicandgraphic]

The Mary Celeste—Chapter 1

Synopsis: You’re a grad student who starts digging into a decades-old unsolved mystery for your thesis. When you uncover a dark conspiracy, you’re forced to enlist the help of your reluctant professor, Agatha Harkness. 

Chapter: 1/10 (The Fellowship)

Series Warnings: Academic suspense, historical intrigue, enemies to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, fem reader, age difference, WLW

Chapter Warnings: Super hot Prof!Agatha 🥵, mentions of parental death

——————

You stared at the journal in your hands, fingers tracing the familiar frayed edges of your father’s handwriting. The ink was starting to fade, and the paper had yellowed with age, but the words still cut through you like knife. The last entry, dated a few days before the accident, had been scribbled hastily: “Find the manifest.”

You closed the journal with a decisive snap and tossed it onto your cluttered desk. You had been up all night, reading and re-reading your acceptance letter into the Archival Society, still not quite believing it. You had spent weeks agonizing over your fellowship application and waiting to hear back. Now it was finally secured.

Professor Franklin, the university’s most distinguished and legendary history teacher, selected a single grad student each semester to mentor. Being the archival fellow was an enormous honor that came with special privileges. You’d benefit from his personal knowledge and guidance. You’d also have access to several private libraries and collections within the department. You allowed yourself a brief, triumphant smile. Now, nothing could stop you from continuing your father’s work.

Standing up, you caught your reflection in the mirror across the room and stilled, struck by the familiar face peering back at you. You had inherited more than just your father’s insatiable curiosity. You favored him—gray eyes, blonde hair, mischevious smile—especially as you got older. You suddenly wished you could talk to him, tell him about the plan you had set in motion. The desire was so intense and visceral that you actually felt a physical ache in your chest. 

The sound of your phone buzzing interrupted your thoughts, and you glanced at the time. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized you were late for class—and not just any class. The American Folklore seminar was taught by none other than Professor Franklin. Grabbing your bag and throwing it over your shoulder, you shot out the door, hoping you wouldn’t be too late to sneak into the back of the lecture hall unnoticed. 

Your sneakers slapped against the pavement as you rushed across campus, the early fall morning sun casting long shadows. You had been at the university for a few weeks now, but it still felt like a maze—an endless labyrinth of stone buildings and echoing hallways. 

Outside the lecture hall, you paused to gather yourself, running a hand through your long wavy hair and straightening your Oxford button-down shirt. Then you opened the door and slipped inside. 

It was dark in the hall. When your eyes had adjusted, you spotted an empty seat a few rows down and began creeping toward it. You had almost reached your destination when your bag caught on someone’s books and they fell to the floor with a loud bang. 

You winced as several heads turned, and the professor’s voice paused. Glancing up at the lectern, you frowned in surprise. Instead of Professor Franklin, you saw a woman. She had long brown hair and dark blue eyes which were currently fixed on you.

“Sorry,” you said, voice cracking.

“By all means, make yourself comfortable,” she drawled, sounding bored. “We’ll wait.”

She pulled on a pair of reading glasses and glanced at a piece of paper on her dais, as if cross-referencing something. Then she called your first and last name, and you froze again like a deer in headlights. 

“This isn’t a trick question, pet,” she purred, and a few other students sniggered. “I have to ask for attendance.” 

“Present,” you said, cheeks flushing bright red. 

“Hmm.” She tapped the paper with one long finger and arched an eyebrow at you. “See me after class.” 

“Yes, Professor,” you said. 

Finally, after a few more agonizing seconds of silence in which you shuffled to the nearest available desk, she resumed her lecture. You pulled out a notebook and pen, slouching low in your seat.

“As I was saying,” she said, a tight, deadly smile lighting up her angular features. “Professor Franklin has taken a medical leave of absence.“

Your head snapped up, your mouth parting slightly in surprise. Was it your imagination, or did this woman’s dark gaze linger on you, as if gauging your reaction?

“My name is Dr. Agatha Harkness,” she continued. “Professor of Medieval Folklore, and I’ll be filling in for the rest of the semester.”   

Most of what came next—an overview of modifications to the syllabus, a walkthrough of expectations for research papers, office hours—you missed, unable to concentrate as you processed the bitterly disappointing news about Professor Franklin. 

He had been your golden ticket, a guaranteed ally in the critical research you had planned over the coming months. Without him, everything hung in the balance. You needed to regroup, strategize, figure out your next move.

Before you knew it,  Dr. Harkness was dismissing the class. You stayed seated as the lights came on and everyone collected their belongings, exiting the hall en masse. Finally, it was just the two of you. 

“So,” she called softly, voice echoing in the empty room. “You’re the Archival Fellow.” 

You nodded, uncertain what to say. 

She removed the wire-framed reading glasses which were still perched on the end of her long nose.

“Come down here, pet,” she said finally. “Let me get a look at you.” 

You stood and descended the few steps until you were standing directly across the lectern from her. She leaned forward, mouth pursed in a thoughtful half-smile. You met her gaze evenly, trying not to feel intimidated. Agatha Harkness was strikingly beautiful. Her hawkish eyes were bright, predatory. When she licked her lips, you had the mad urge to kiss them…or to run for your life. 

“What happened to Professor Franklin?” You asked, hoping your voice didn’t sound as breathy as it felt. 

“That silly old fool.” She rolled her eyes, but her tone was surprisingly gentle when she spoke. “Overworked himself, no doubt. Something to do with his heart.” 

“Oh,” you said, a fresh wave of disappointment washing over you. It was difficult to determine the most diplomatic way to ask your next question. Luckily, Professor Harkness took pity on you. 

“Not to worry,” she said shrewdly, seeing straight through your thinly veiled concern. “I’ll be making myself available throughout the duration of your fellowship. I understand your thesis is focused on an early 20th century shipwreck?” 

“Not exactly,” you hedged. “It’s a ghost ship. The Mary Celeste.” 

Dr. Harkness’s hand stilled. For a brief moment, you could have sworn there was a flicker of genuine surprise, maybe even fear in her eyes. But just as quickly, it was gone.

“I see,” she snorted. “How mysterious.” 

You felt a ripple of irritation, but tamped it down. Clearly you had gotten off on the wrong foot with this woman. Taking a steadying breath, you decided to try a different approach. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m looking forward to working with you, Dr. Harkness,” you said, schooling your expression into something warm and animated. “Your expertise in folklore will provide such a valuable lens to my research.” 

“Oh, flattery,” Professor Harkness laughed, gathering up her papers. “Now I see why Franklin chose you, pretty thing with a pretty mouth.”

The smile slipped off your face, replaced by a deep flush of uncharacteristic shyness that you tried to pass off as outrage. 

“Nothing personal, pet,” she assured you, seemingly unfazed by your reaction. “But I operate a little differently than Franklin. You may have charmed the old man, but I’m not so easy to impress.” 

Her heels clicked sharply on the floor as she walked away from you. She had almost made it out the door by the time you found your voice. 

“I earned my right to be here,” you said, shaking with fury. “And I didn’t come this far just to be insulted by some professor whose name I’ve never even heard.” 

She stilled on the threshold and you held your breath, preparing for the backlash. But instead, Agatha hummed in approval.

“So,” she purred. “The fawn has fangs.”

Then, with a dark chuckle, she was gone. 

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[hisfavegirl]

Between Two Hearts

Pairing : Modern!Aegon Targaryen x Female!Tutor x Modern!Aemond Targaryen.

Chapter Summary : You are the best student in your class, your life is going smoothly until finally your teacher asks you to tutor two siblings who seem to need your help. And after that your world turns 180 degrees.

You were the brightest student in your class, the one everyone knew by name. Professors admired your dedication, and your classmates either envied or respected you. Life at university felt predictable, smooth, and devoid of complications. You thrived in your academic bubble, surrounded by books and an unshakable routine.

That morning started like any other. You were in the library, poring over a thick volume on advanced mathematics, when the campus intercom crackled to life. You've been called to the dean's office.

Heads turned in your direction, and a hush fell over the room. You felt a mix of confusion and anxiety. Being summoned to the dean’s office was never casual, especially not over the loudspeaker.

Clutching your bag, you made your way through the sprawling campus, your mind racing with possibilities. Had you done something wrong? Was it about a scholarship? Or worse, a mistake in your records?

The secretary outside the dean’s office greeted you with a polite smile. “Go right in. The dean is waiting for you.”

You pushed open the heavy oak door, stepping into the spacious office. Otto sat behind his desk, a man of imposing stature with an air of authority. He looked up as you entered, his sharp eyes glinting in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

“Ah, Please, take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

You sat down cautiously, folding your hands in your lap. “Dean Otto, is something the matter?”

He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not at all. In fact, this is about an opportunity—one I believe you are uniquely suited for.”

You tilted your head, intrigued but wary. “An opportunity?”

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “My grandsons, Aegon and Aemond, have recently transferred to this city and will be attending the preparatory academy nearby. However, their transition has been…challenging. They require a tutor, someone exceptional, to help them catch up and excel in their studies.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “You’re asking me to tutor them?”

“Precisely,” he said with a nod. “Your academic record speaks for itself, and your professors have spoken highly of your discipline and intelligence. I believe you are the perfect candidate for this role.”

You hesitated. It was an unexpected request, and you weren’t sure how to respond. “Dean, I’m honored, but I already have a full schedule. Between my coursework, research, and other commitments, I’m not sure I have the time to—”

“I understand your reservations,” he interrupted smoothly, “but I assure you, this arrangement would come with substantial benefits. A generous stipend, full access to the resources at our institution, and, of course, my personal recommendation for any future endeavors.”

The offer was tempting, almost too good to be true. But something about the situation felt…complicated. “May I ask why you’re looking for a tutor outside the academy itself? Surely they have resources available?”

Otto’s expression darkened slightly. “My grandsons are…unique. Aegon is bright but unfocused, prone to distraction. Aemond, on the other hand, is exceptionally driven but struggles with interpersonal relationships. They require someone patient, adaptable, and skilled enough to challenge them intellectually.”

You nodded slowly, considering his words. “What subjects would I be tutoring them in?”

“Primarily history, literature, and mathematics,” he replied. “But there may be moments when they need guidance beyond academics. I trust that you’ll be able to handle that.”

You hesitated again, weighing your options. It was a significant responsibility, but it also sounded like a challenge worthy of your skills. “I’d like to meet them first, if that’s possible.”

Otto’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Of course. They’re waiting outside.”

He pressed a button on his desk, and the door opened moments later. Two young men walked in, their presence commanding the room immediately.

The first, Aegon, had a disheveled charm about him. His silver-blonde hair was slightly messy, and his easy smile hinted at a playful, carefree attitude. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his bright eyes scanning you with curiosity.

The second, Aemond, was the exact opposite. His posture was rigid, his expression serious, and his sharp gaze locked onto you with an intensity that made you straighten in your chair.

“So, you’re the genius they’ve been talking about,” Aegon said, his tone teasing. “You don’t look so scary.”

You raised an eyebrow, meeting his smirk with a calm expression. “And you don’t look like you need a tutor. But appearances can be deceiving.”

Aegon chuckled, clearly amused, while Aemond’s lips twitched in what might have been approval.

Otto cleared his throat. “Miss, these are my grandsons. Boys, this is the young lady who may be taking on the monumental task of educating you.”

“It’s not monumental if she knows what she’s doing,” Aemond said curtly, his voice cool and precise.

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the room felt charged. “I assure you, I do.”

Otto clapped his hands together, breaking the tension. “Excellent. I’ll leave the three of you to get acquainted. Let me know your decision by tomorrow, Miss”

As the dean left the room, you turned to face Aegon and Aemond fully. This wasn’t going to be easy, but something about the challenge intrigued you.

“Alright,” you said, your voice firm. “If I take this on, we’re going to set some ground rules. First, I’m here to help you succeed, not to babysit. Agreed?”

Aegon grinned, clearly entertained. “Agreed.”

Aemond gave a small nod, his gaze unwavering. “Agreed.”

You took a deep breath. This was the beginning of something entirely new—something that might change your life in ways you couldn’t yet imagine.

You looked at the two men standing before you, ensuring your tone was calm yet authoritative as you began to lay down the rules.

“Alright,” you said firmly. “If I take this position, I will tutor you every day starting tomorrow from six in the evening until nine at night. That means you must be prepared and on time—no excuses for being late.”

Aegon, who had been leaning casually against the wall, raised an eyebrow. “Three hours every day? Are you trying to torture us or something?”

You met his comment with a blank stare, letting the silence speak for itself. He chuckled under his breath and folded his arms, clearly amused.

Aemond, on the other hand, gave a small nod, his sharp gaze steady. “That sounds reasonable. What about the weekends?”

“On weekends,” you continued, “I will conduct tests to evaluate your progress. These won’t just be written exams; they’ll include presentations, discussions, or any form of assessment relevant to what we’ve covered during the week. So, I expect both of you to come prepared.”

Aegon frowned. “Tests? Every weekend? What is this, a military academy?”

You turned your sharp gaze to him, your tone unwavering. “My goal is to help you master the material as thoroughly as possible. If you want to succeed, you’ll need discipline and effort. If that’s too much for you, let me know now, and I’ll gladly walk away.”

Aegon’s playful smirk faltered slightly, and he muttered under his breath, “Fine, fine. I get it.”

Aemond, meanwhile, looked at you with something that almost resembled respect. “Understood. We’ll be ready.”

You gave them both a curt nod. “Good. Then I’ll see you both tomorrow at six sharp. Don’t waste my time, and I won’t waste yours.”

With that, you gathered your things and left the room, your confidence unwavering. As you walked away, you couldn’t help but wonder what challenges the two brothers would bring—and how you would overcome them.

Before you could step out of the room, Aegon’s voice stopped you.

“Wait,” he called out, his tone unusually serious. You turned around, raising an eyebrow as he continued. “If you’re going to teach us, it might be better if you do it at our house. Less noise, fewer distractions.”

You hesitated, considering his suggestion. Teaching them in their home might indeed provide a more focused environment, but it also meant stepping into unfamiliar territory. Before you could respond, Aemond chimed in, his voice steady and composed.

“It’s practical,” he said, stepping closer. “You won’t have to worry about transportation. Our driver will pick you up and take you home every day, as long as you agree.”

You studied Aemond’s expression. His tone wasn’t demanding, but there was an air of expectation in his words. Aegon, standing behind him, smirked as if he already assumed you’d say yes.

“It’s… an interesting idea,” you admitted, crossing your arms. “But teaching at your home would mean I’d need a proper setup. A quiet space, the right materials, and absolutely no interruptions.”

“Done,” Aegon said with a wave of his hand. “You’ll have everything you need. We’ll make sure of it.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, still uncertain. “And I’ll need your full cooperation. That means no skipping sessions, no distractions, and no excuses.”

Aemond nodded firmly. “You’ll have it.”

After a moment’s thought, you sighed. “Alright. If this arrangement helps you focus better, I’ll do it. But the moment it becomes a problem, we’re switching back to campus sessions.”

“Fair enough,” Aegon said with a grin. “See you tomorrow, then.”

You nodded and turned to leave, this time without interruption. As you walked down the hall, you couldn’t help but feel that this decision would change the dynamic between you and the two brothers in ways you hadn’t yet anticipated.

The next day, after finishing your last class, you packed your things and headed toward the front of the campus. The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink, and the cool evening air felt refreshing. As you walked, a sudden thought hit you, and you lightly smacked your forehead.

How could you have forgotten to ask for Aegon or Aemond’s number? You had no idea how they planned to coordinate your ride, and now you were left wondering if the arrangement was even real.

Just as you were debating whether to go back to your dorm or wait a little longer, a sleek black car pulled up in front of you. The windows were tinted, but as the passenger-side window rolled down, you were greeted by Aegon’s familiar smirk.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” he said, leaning slightly out of the window. “Get in.”

You hesitated for a split second, scanning the car. Aemond was seated on the other side of the back seat, his usual composed expression fixed firmly on you. He gave you a slight nod, his sharp features illuminated by the glow of the streetlights.

Realizing this was the ride they’d promised, you exhaled and stepped forward, opening the car door. Sliding into the seat next to Aemond, you carefully adjusted your bag on your lap and glanced between the two brothers.

“Didn’t think to text me or call,” you said, a hint of teasing in your voice as you looked at Aegon.

“You didn’t ask for our numbers,” Aegon replied smoothly, grinning. “Figured I’d save you the trouble and just show up.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Well, thanks for not leaving me stranded.”

Aemond, sitting silently beside you, finally spoke. “We’re punctual. You’ll find that we’re serious about this arrangement.”

His tone was measured, but you couldn’t help but sense an undertone of challenge. You nodded, meeting his gaze. “Good. I’d hate to waste my time if you weren’t.”

The car fell into a comfortable silence as it pulled away from the campus, the hum of the engine filling the space. Aegon leaned back in his seat, casually scrolling through his phone, while Aemond sat upright, his attention shifting occasionally toward the passing scenery.

It wasn’t long before the car turned onto a wide, gated driveway, leading to an imposing mansion that seemed to blend old-world charm with modern luxury. You swallowed hard, realizing that this tutoring arrangement might be more than you’d anticipated—not just academically but socially as well.

As the car came to a stop, Aegon turned to you with his signature grin. “Welcome to our humble home, professor. Let’s see if you’re ready for the challenge.”

You smirked back, unbuckling your seatbelt. “The real question is, are you?”

Aemond opened the door and stepped out first, gesturing for you to follow. “Let’s get started,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

This was going to be an interesting evening, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

As you began your first lesson on history, you could already feel the difference in how Aegon and Aemond were approaching the material. Aemond, with his sharp focus and intensity, absorbed the information quickly, nodding in understanding as you explained key historical events. He made occasional notes, and you could see his mind working as he processed each fact.

Aegon, however, was a different story. He lounged lazily in his chair, barely looking at the textbook in front of him. Instead, he seemed to be more interested in tapping his pen against the desk, glancing out the window, and occasionally smirking at Aemond’s serious demeanor.

You tried to remain calm, but as the minutes passed and Aegon’s lack of attention became more apparent, your patience began to wear thin. You paused mid-sentence, turning to face him directly.

“Aegon,” you said, your voice firm, “can you please focus? This isn’t a joke. We’re here to learn, not play around.”

Aegon finally looked at you, a playful grin still tugging at his lips. “Oh, come on. History’s boring. It’s just a bunch of dates and old battles. Not my thing.”

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. “Well, whether you like it or not, this is part of your education. I won’t tolerate distractions. If you can’t focus, you might as well leave now.”

His grin faded slightly, and Aegon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Alright, alright. I’ll focus.” He picked up his pen, though his lack of enthusiasm was evident.

Aemond, who had been silently observing, spoke up in his usual calm tone. “You should listen to her. If you want to pass, you’ll need to take this seriously.”

You nodded in agreement, turning back to Aegon. “I don’t expect you to be thrilled about history, but I do expect you to give it your full attention. We’re only going to move forward if both of you are engaged in the lesson. Got it?”

Aegon sighed dramatically but finally nodded. “Fine. I’m in. History it is.”

With that, you resumed the lesson, feeling a little more confident that Aegon had finally committed to paying attention. However, you knew this was only the beginning, and you were determined to make sure both of them took this tutoring seriously.

You glanced at your watch, noticing the time. “Alright,” you said, letting out a small sigh. “We’ll take a short break. Let’s reconvene in ten minutes.”

Aegon stretched in his chair, clearly relieved to have a moment to relax. He leaned back, casually crossing his arms behind his head, and turned to Aemond. Without missing a beat, Aegon began speaking in Valyrian, his voice low and almost teasing. You had learned Valyrian during your studies, and although you weren’t fluent, you could understand enough to catch their conversation.

“Do you think she’ll actually be able to keep us in line?” Aegon asked, his voice dripping with amusement. “She seems so… serious. A little too serious for my liking.”

Aemond’s response was calm and deliberate, his tone far more measured than Aegon’s. “She has to be serious. This is no game, Aegon. If she wants to teach us, she’ll make us work for it. We might as well take it seriously if we want to get anything out of this.”

Aegon chuckled, clearly unconcerned. “Work? Maybe. But I don’t think she’ll last long. I mean, she’s already a bit… intense. I can see her breaking eventually.”

Aemond didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the pages of the history book in front of him. “I wouldn’t be so quick to judge. She’s sharp. She knows what she’s doing. Besides, if she leaves, we’ll just have to find someone else to replace her.”

Aegon made a playful noise, but you could sense his doubt in his voice. “Well, I guess we’ll see. But I still don’t think she’s the right fit for this.”

You couldn’t help but feel a small knot of irritation form in your stomach as you overheard their conversation. Aegon’s dismissive attitude and Aemond’s cool detachment only fueled the fire in you to prove them wrong. They might think you were just another tutor who’d give up, but you weren’t about to let them get away with underestimating you.

You took a deep breath, preparing to stand up from your seat. You’d show them that you were serious about this, no matter how much they doubted you. The break was almost over, and you weren’t going to let their dismissive words affect you.

“You know,” you said, cutting through their conversation in Valyrian, “If you’re done making assumptions, we can continue with the lesson. I’d rather not waste time.”

Both brothers turned to you, their expressions momentarily frozen. Aegon blinked, surprised that you understood, while Aemond looked at you with an unreadable expression.

“You understood all of that?” Aegon asked, a bit taken aback.

You gave them a small, confident smile. “I understand enough.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow, though he didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply nodded and returned to the task at hand.

“You’re right,” he said quietly. “Let’s get back to it.”

Aegon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, no longer daring to speak so casually. “Yeah, sure. No more distractions.”

You stood up, gathering the materials and setting the tone for the rest of the session. It was clear to you now that the challenge ahead wasn’t just about their education—it was about earning their respect, something you were more than willing to fight for.

The next lesson you introduced was literature, and this time, the atmosphere in the room felt noticeably different. Aegon and Aemond both seemed more focused, their earlier antics set aside. You began by discussing a classic text, carefully breaking down its themes, symbolism, and historical context.

To your surprise, they paid attention, their expressions indicating genuine interest. Occasionally, Aegon leaned forward, scribbling notes in the margins of his notebook, while Aemond’s sharp eyes stayed fixed on you, as if he were analyzing not just the lesson but the way you presented it.

“You mentioned that the protagonist’s internal struggle mirrors the political turmoil of their time,” Aemond said, breaking the silence. “But wouldn’t you say that their personal flaws play a greater role in their downfall?”

You paused, slightly impressed by the depth of his observation. “That’s an excellent point, Aemond,” you said with a small smile. “The protagonist’s flaws do contribute significantly to their downfall. However, the external pressures of their environment can’t be ignored. It’s the interplay between their personal weaknesses and external forces that makes their story so compelling.”

Aegon, who had been silent for a while, suddenly chimed in. “But doesn’t that make the story predictable? I mean, if we know they’re doomed from the start, why bother?”

You turned to him, appreciating the question. “It’s not about the ending, Aegon. It’s about the journey. Even if we know the character is doomed, we learn something from the choices they make along the way. That’s what great literature does—it holds a mirror to our own lives and forces us to reflect on our decisions.”

Aegon leaned back in his chair, nodding slowly. “I guess that makes sense. So, it’s not just about what happens to them, but why it happens.”

“Exactly,” you said, glad to see him engaged.

The session continued with both brothers actively participating. Aegon asked questions that often veered into broader, more philosophical territory, while Aemond’s inquiries were precise and rooted in the text. Their dynamic created a lively discussion that kept the lesson flowing smoothly.

By the time you wrapped up, you felt a sense of accomplishment. They had not only paid attention but had also engaged with the material on a deeper level.

“Well,” Aegon said, closing his notebook with a satisfied sigh. “I never thought literature could be… interesting. You might actually be good at this, professor.”

Aemond gave a small nod of agreement, though his expression remained neutral. “You explain things well. I can see why our grandfather recommended you.”

“Thank you,” you said, genuinely pleased. “I’m glad to see you both getting into it. Let’s keep this momentum going for the next session.”

As they walked you out of the study, Aegon turned to you with a smirk. “So, what’s next on the syllabus? Something as exciting as this?”

You chuckled. “We’ll see. But I’m warning you now—if I catch you slacking again, you’re getting extra assignments.”

Aegon groaned dramatically, while Aemond allowed himself the faintest of smirks. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you headed back home, feeling more confident that this arrangement might just work out after all.

As the sleek black car came to a stop in front of your home, you gathered your belongings and prepared to step out. The evening had gone better than you expected, and you felt a sense of accomplishment from the progress you’d made with Aegon and Aemond.

Just as you reached for the door handle, Aegon leaned forward from his seat, his smirk as ever present. “Hey, before you go, we’re going to need your number.”

You turned to look at him, slightly surprised. “My number?”

Aemond, sitting beside him with his usual calm demeanor, nodded. “It’s practical. In case there are any changes to the schedule or we need clarification on something before a session.”

Aegon grinned. “Or, you know, if I need to ask for help on some extra assignments you might be planning to throw at me.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Alright, fair enough.” You quickly recited your number, and both of them entered it into their phones.

“Great,” Aegon said, holding up his phone triumphantly. “Now you can’t ignore us if we need you.”

“I could,” you teased, stepping out of the car. “But I won’t. Just don’t abuse it, alright?”

Aegon gave you a mock salute. “No promises.”

Aemond, on the other hand, simply nodded. “We’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

You raised an eyebrow at his tone. “I could say the same to you two.”

As the car pulled away, you stood there for a moment, watching it disappear down the street. With a small smile, you turned and headed inside your home, ready to prepare for the next day’s challenges.

The next morning, you let out a low growl of frustration as you rummaged around your bedside table. You could have sworn you’d left your glasses there the previous night, but now they were nowhere to be found. You checked under the bed, on your desk, and even the floor, but they had seemingly vanished.

“Where could they possibly be?” you muttered to yourself, glancing at the clock. Panic crept in as you realized you were already running late for your first class

With no time to keep searching, you grabbed your contact lenses instead. You rarely wore them—they were always a hassle—but today, they would have to do. After a few frustrating minutes of struggling to get them in, you finally managed and hurriedly grabbed your bag.

Rushing out the door, you mentally kicked yourself for not being more organized. By the time you reached campus, your class had already started. You slipped into the lecture hall as quietly as possible, praying no one noticed your tardiness.

The day moved along in a blur as you tried to shake off the rocky start. By the time the afternoon rolled around, you were finally starting to feel like yourself again. Then your phone buzzed.

Aegon: “Are you always this disorganized, professor? Forgot your glasses?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. How did he know? You quickly typed back a reply.

You: “How do you even know about that?”

A few moments later, another text came in.

Aegon: “Lucky guess. Or maybe someone told me. 😉 See you at 6.”

Shaking your head, you couldn’t decide if you were more annoyed or amused. Typical Aegon. At least tonight’s lesson would give you a chance to focus on something other than your hectic morning.

You stood by the campus gate, checking your phone for the time. You had already messaged Aegon and Aemond, letting them know you were waiting. The plan was simple: they’d pick you up in their usual sleek car. But as you glanced up, the distant roar of a motorcycle engine caught your attention.

The black motorcycle came to a smooth stop right in front of you. You froze, confused, until the rider took off their helmet.

“Aegon?” you asked, stunned. His silver-blond hair was slightly messy from the helmet, and he wore a smug grin.

“Surprise,” he said, casually hanging the helmet on the handlebars. “The driver took the day off, so I decided to pick you up myself. Cool, right?”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “This wasn’t exactly the plan. Where’s Aemond?”

Aegon shrugged, completely unbothered. “He’s at home, probably buried in a book or something. He didn’t feel like coming along, so you’re stuck with me today.”

You glanced at the motorcycle and then back at him. “I don’t know, Aegon. This feels… unsafe.”

He rolled his eyes and gestured to the spare helmet strapped to the back of the bike. “Relax, professor. I’m a great rider. Plus, I brought a helmet for you. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

You hesitated, looking at your phone as if it would magically offer a better option. But you were running out of time, and standing there debating wouldn’t help. Finally, you sighed and grabbed the spare helmet.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But if anything happens, it’s on you.”

Aegon smirked as you climbed onto the bike behind him. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you there in one piece. Just hold on tight.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist reluctantly, trying not to think about how awkward this felt. As the engine roared to life, Aegon turned his head slightly.

“Ready?” he called over the noise.

“Not really,” you replied, but he took off before you could say anything else.

The wind whipped past your face as Aegon expertly navigated through the streets. Despite your initial reluctance, you couldn’t deny that the ride was exhilarating. For a moment, you even forgot about your hectic morning.

When you finally arrived at their house, Aegon stopped the bike and turned to you with a grin. “See? Told you it’d be fine.”

You pulled off the helmet, trying to smooth your hair back into place. “Next time, let me know in advance,” you said, your tone half-serious, half-teasing.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he replied, winking before leading you toward the house.

Aemond was waiting at the door when you entered, raising an eyebrow at the sight of you holding a motorcycle helmet. “I assume Aegon picked you up,” he said dryly.

“You assume correctly,” you replied, handing the helmet back to Aegon.

“Well,” Aegon said with a laugh, “now we’re all here. Let’s get started, professor.”

As you walked toward the study room, you couldn’t help but think that this tutoring job was turning out to be far more unpredictable than you had anticipated.

You walked ahead of Aegon and Aemond, stepping into the study room with your lesson plan in hand. But as you entered, you froze. Sitting elegantly on the sofa at the far end of the room was a woman, her posture straight and her demeanor commanding. Her midnight-brown hair and striking features immediately gave her away.

You hadn’t expected an audience.

Before you could react, Aegon and Aemond entered behind you. The moment they saw her, they both stopped, their expressions shifting to confusion.

“Mother?” Aemond said, his tone a mixture of curiosity and mild irritation. “What are you doing here?”

Aegon, on the other hand, crossed his arms with a groan. “You never come to this side of the house. What’s the occasion?”

The woman—clearly their mother—didn’t seem fazed by their reactions. Instead, her piercing gaze shifted from her sons to you.

“I wanted to see for myself the person entrusted with educating my sons,” she said, her tone calm but undeniably sharp. “You’re young. Perhaps too young to be trusted with something so important.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to stay composed. You had faced scrutiny before, and this wouldn’t be the first time someone questioned your abilities based on your age.

“Mother,” Aemond interjected, stepping forward, his voice firmer now. “She’s doing her job well. You don’t need to question her.”

Alicent raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she looked back at you, her expression unreadable. “You may have impressed my father, but this is different. My sons require not just instruction but discipline, guidance, and maturity. Are you truly capable of that?”

You straightened your posture, meeting her gaze with quiet confidence. “I understand your concern, maam. I may be young, but I take my responsibilities seriously. My goal is to ensure your sons succeed, and I’m fully committed to that.”

Aegon chuckled softly from behind you. “She’s got guts, I’ll give her that,” he muttered.

Alicent’s eyes flicked to him, narrowing slightly. “And you would do well to respect her time and efforts. If she’s here to help you, don’t waste it.”

Aegon held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Message received.”

Turning her attention back to you, Alicent rose gracefully from the sofa. “Very well,” she said. “I will observe today’s session. Prove to me that you’re as capable as you claim to be.”

You hesitated briefly but then nodded. “Of course, maam. Please, feel free to stay.”

As you began the lesson, you were acutely aware of Alicent’s eyes on you. She sat silently, her presence adding a layer of tension to the room. Aemond followed along diligently, as he always did, while Aegon seemed to be on his best behavior for once—likely because of his mother’s watchful gaze.

You stayed composed, answering their questions with precision and adapting to their differing learning styles. As the session progressed, even Alicent seemed to soften slightly, her expression less critical and more thoughtful.

When you finally wrapped up, Alicent stood, smoothing her dress. “You did well,” she said, her tone still formal but less cutting. “I’ll allow this arrangement to continue—for now.”

Aegon let out a dramatic sigh of relief. “Thank the gods.”

Aemond shot him a warning look before turning to his mother. “Is that all, Mother? We’d like to continue without interruptions.”

Alicent gave him a sharp look but said nothing further. She turned to leave but paused at the doorway. “Don’t disappoint me,” she said to both her sons—and perhaps to you as well—before walking out.

Once she was gone, the tension in the room seemed to lift.

“Well, that was fun,” Aegon said, stretching lazily. “I think she likes you. Or at least, she doesn’t hate you.”

You exhaled deeply, finally allowing yourself to relax. “That’s… progress, I suppose.”

Aemond nodded approvingly. “You handled her well. Let’s get back to work.”

With the drama behind you, you dove back into the lesson, determined to keep proving yourself—not just to Alicent, but to everyone else who doubted you.

The lesson resumed, and this time, the focus shifted to mathematics. You were a little surprised to see Aegon perk up as soon as you began explaining the basics of today’s topic. He leaned forward in his chair, actually paying attention, which was a stark contrast to his usual distracted demeanor.

“This is way better than history or literature,” Aegon muttered, scribbling down notes as you worked through a few problems on the whiteboard. “At least numbers make sense.”

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you’d enjoy math this much. Usually, students find it… less appealing.”

Aegon shrugged, a small grin tugging at his lips. “It’s straightforward. You solve the problem, and you get an answer. No overthinking or guessing. Just logic.”

Aemond, who was already solving a more advanced equation in his notebook, glanced at his brother. “I never thought I’d see the day when you’d willingly engage with something academic.”

“Don’t ruin it, Aemond,” Aegon shot back, smirking. “Maybe I’m just smarter than you give me credit for.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Alright, let’s see how smart you are, Aegon. Try solving this one.” You quickly wrote a moderately challenging equation on the board and stepped aside.

Aegon squinted at it, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration as he worked through the problem. Aemond looked over his shoulder, clearly tempted to comment, but he held back.

“Done,” Aegon announced a few moments later, leaning back with a smug expression.

You walked over to check his work, nodding in approval. “That’s correct. Well done, Aegon.”

“See?” he said, throwing a glance at Aemond. “I’m a natural.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Aemond replied dryly.

You decided to press on, giving them both a set of practice problems. While Aemond breezed through his work with his usual efficiency, Aegon surprised you again by staying focused and asking thoughtful questions when he got stuck.

“You’re actually good at this,” you said to Aegon as he finished another problem.

He shrugged, a rare hint of modesty in his expression. “I guess I just needed the right teacher.”

The unexpected compliment caught you off guard, and you felt a slight warmth creep up your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you redirected the conversation. “Well, if you keep this up, math might just become your strongest subject.”

“Don’t jinx it,” he replied with a laugh.

By the end of the session, both brothers had made noticeable progress. Aemond, as always, maintained his quiet focus, while Aegon’s newfound enthusiasm for the subject added an unexpected energy to the room.

As you packed up your notes, Aegon leaned back in his chair with a grin. “Math isn’t so bad when you’re not teaching it like a boring old professor.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Aemond shook his head but said nothing, his lips twitching into a faint smile as he gathered his materials. Despite their differences, it was clear both brothers were growing more comfortable with you as their tutor—and you were determined to keep building on that progress.

As you made your way toward the door, ready to leave for the evening, Alicent’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Wait,” she called, her tone firm yet inviting. “Before you go, would you join us for dinner with us?”

You turned around, surprised by the sudden offer. The last thing you had expected was an invitation to dine with their family. You hesitated, unsure. “I appreciate the invitation, Maam, but I should really get going…”

Alicent, ever composed, gave a small wave of her hand. “Please, there’s no need to be so formal. Just call me Alicent. I would like for you to join us.”

Before you could respond, Aegon and Aemond, who had been standing nearby, exchanged a look before Aegon suddenly grabbed your arm, pulling you toward the dining area with a grin.

“Come on,” he said, his tone more playful than persuasive. “It’ll be fine. You’ve been working so hard with us. The least we can do is treat you to dinner.”

Aemond, though quieter than his brother, placed a hand on your other arm, gently guiding you forward. “Mother insists,” he said, his voice calm but steady. “It’s the least you could do.”

Caught between their insistence and Alicent’s soft smile, you found yourself being gently pulled along. Despite the surprise of the invitation, you agreed. “Alright, alright. I’ll stay for dinner.”

Aegon gave a satisfied nod, practically dragging you along. “Great! I promise it won’t be as boring as you think.”

You looked over your shoulder at Alicent, who watched you with a knowing look. “I’ll be sure to join you, Alicent. Thank you for the offer.”

She gave you a brief nod. “Good. Let’s have a pleasant meal.”

As you walked with Aegon and Aemond toward the dining room, you couldn’t help but wonder about the dynamics of this family. Would dinner be more relaxed, or was it another form of subtle observation?

When you entered the dining area, it was grand, yet the atmosphere wasn’t as stiff as you had anticipated. Aegon flopped down at one end of the long table, Aemond taking his usual seat, and you were invited to sit across from Alicent.

Throughout the meal, the conversation was surprisingly lighthearted. Aegon cracked jokes, Aemond contributed when necessary, and Alicent occasionally added her thoughts, though her gaze would flicker to you from time to time.

Despite the formality, there was a sense of ease you hadn’t expected, and you began to feel more at home than you anticipated. Perhaps this wasn’t as intimidating as you had once thought.

As dessert was served, Alicent turned to you with a smile, her demeanor less rigid than when you first met her. “I hope you’ve found this meal enjoyable. It’s rare that we get to spend time together like this without a lot of distractions.”

You smiled back, feeling the warmth of the invitation. “It’s been lovely. Thank you again for having me.”

Aegon grinned. “See? I told you dinner wouldn’t be so bad.”

You chuckled, glancing at Aemond, who gave you a small, approving nod. As the evening wound down, you couldn’t help but feel that this family—despite their quirks and complexities—was beginning to show you a side of themselves that wasn’t all about expectations and pressure.

As you stepped outside, the sound of heavy rain and thunder crashing echoed through the night. You frowned as you looked up at the dark sky, realizing that the storm was no ordinary shower—it was a full-blown storm, and it showed no sign of letting up anytime soon. You sighed softly, glancing at your watch, which read eleven o’clock at night.

It wasn’t safe to leave in such weather, and you had no intention of getting soaked and possibly caught in an accident. Just as you were about to turn back inside, a voice called out to you.

“Is something wrong?” Alicent’s voice rang through the air. She had followed you out to the foyer, and she noticed the conflicted look on your face.

You turned to her, slightly embarrassed. “It’s just… the storm. I didn’t expect it to get this bad. I’m not sure how I’ll make it home in this weather.”

Alicent gave you a measured look, then smiled warmly. “You don’t have to worry about that.” She walked toward you, her tone soft and commanding, as always. “It’s far too dangerous for you to be out there at this hour. Why don’t you stay here for the night? We can have a room prepared for you, and some clothes, too.”

You hesitated for a moment, the thought of staying still new and strange to you. “I don’t want to impose…”

Alicent waved away your concerns. “You won’t be. It’s no trouble at all. I insist. Let my staff prepare a room for you. You’re more than welcome to stay here. I wouldn’t want you out in that storm.”

You looked out the window, the rain slashing against the glass in a relentless wave. It seemed foolish to even consider leaving now.

“Well… if you insist,” you said, giving a small, hesitant smile.

Alicent nodded, satisfied with your response. “Good. I’ll make sure everything is arranged. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

She motioned for one of the servants to prepare a guest room for you. As they went off to carry out her request, she turned back to you. “It’s rare that we have guests stay overnight, but I’m glad it’s you. You’ve been an asset to Aegon and Aemond’s education, and I want to make sure you’re well taken care of.”

You were taken aback by her genuine kindness. “Thank you, Alicent. I didn’t expect… well, I didn’t expect this.”

Alicent smiled, her eyes softening for a moment. “It’s only right. You’ve been working hard with them, and we value that. I also believe a little rest and comfort is just what you need.”

As you followed her into the guest wing of the house, you felt a mixture of gratitude and curiosity. You had never expected your relationship with this family to evolve into something so unexpectedly warm.

The room was prepared quickly, and soon you were handed a set of clothes—comfortable, yet elegant enough for their home. Alicent made sure you had everything you needed, including a warm drink and a tray of snacks.

“Rest well,” she said with a smile, before giving you a polite nod. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

You settled into the room, taking a deep breath as you prepared for a quiet night, still processing the events of the evening. The storm raged outside, but inside, you felt an unexpected sense of peace. For the first time, you allowed yourself to relax, grateful for the hospitality and the chance to experience a different side of the family you’d been tutoring.

Tomorrow, there would be more lessons, but for tonight, you could enjoy the calm.

You woke up to the sound of heavy rain beating against the windows, the storm still raging outside. The room was quiet and warm, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to just enjoy the calm after last night’s chaos. As you stretched, you heard a soft knock on the door.

“Come in,” you called, your voice still tinged with sleep.

A servant entered, carrying a fresh set of clothes in their arms. “Good morning, Miss. Madam has requested you join her for breakfast downstairs whenever you are ready,” the servant informed you politely.

You smiled, nodding in acknowledgment. “Thank you.”

The servant placed the clothes on the chair beside the bed, then left you to change. After freshening up, you took a moment to look out the window again. The storm was as fierce as it had been the night before, with no signs of slowing down. It made you thankful that Alicent had insisted on you staying the night.

Once you were dressed, you made your way downstairs, finding the dining room bathed in soft, warm light. Alicent was already seated at the table, a delicate smile on her face as she looked up at you.

“Good morning,” she greeted, her tone calm and welcoming. “I hope you slept well.”

“I did, thank you,” you replied, offering a smile as you took a seat opposite her.

The breakfast spread before you was extravagant, with various dishes and pastries arranged neatly on the table. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and you couldn’t help but feel a little in awe of the luxury surrounding you.

“I trust the room was comfortable?” Alicent asked as she gestured for you to help yourself to the food.

“Yes, it was lovely. Thank you for your hospitality,” you said, picking up a plate and serving yourself some fruit and eggs.

Alicent nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “It’s the least I can do. You’ve been very dedicated to Aegon and Aemond’s studies, and I appreciate your efforts.”

You looked up at her, a bit surprised by the sincerity in her voice. “It’s been a pleasure. They both have potential, and I’m happy to help them.”

She smiled, clearly pleased by your response. “I’ve noticed. But I also know it’s not always easy with them. Aegon can be a handful, and Aemond… well, he’s not always the most forthcoming.”

You chuckled lightly, not wanting to give too much away. “They both have their strengths and weaknesses, but that’s what makes them interesting to teach.”

Alicent’s eyes softened as she watched you. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s important to me that they not only learn from books but also from life. That’s why I want you to be more than just a tutor to them.”

You blinked, taken aback by her words. “More than just a tutor?”

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I want you to be a mentor, a friend for them. Guide them, not just in academics, but in how they approach the world. Aegon… he needs someone to challenge him, and Aemond needs someone to help him open up.”

You felt a weight settle on your shoulders at her request. It wasn’t just about teaching anymore; it was about shaping their lives in a way that went beyond the classroom. You weren’t sure if you were ready for that, but you knew Alicent was sincere.

“I’ll do my best,” you said after a moment, your voice steady.

Alicent smiled, clearly pleased with your response. “I know you will. And for now, enjoy your breakfast. The storm is still strong, so you can stay here as long as needed. When it clears, we can discuss more about your role here.”

You nodded, taking a bite of your breakfast. As you ate, you couldn’t help but wonder what the future would hold for you, now that you had been pulled deeper into this family’s life. It was clear Alicent had a vision for you—one that went far beyond tutoring.

You heard the sound of footsteps descending the stairs, and moments later, Aegon appeared in the doorway, looking slightly disheveled, his hair messy as though he had just woken up. Behind him, Aemond stood with his usual composed demeanor, already dressed neatly, his expression neutral as he glanced in your direction.

Both of them stopped in their tracks when they saw you sitting at the table with Alicent. It was clear they hadn’t expected you to still be here. Aegon raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“You’re still here?” Aegon asked, his voice still heavy with sleep. His tone was casual, though there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

Aemond, ever more reserved, narrowed his gaze slightly, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t know you were staying the night.” His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, as though the unexpected sight of you here had caught him off guard.

You smiled politely, feeling a little awkward now that both of them were looking at you so intently. “Yes, the storm last night was so bad, Alicent offered for me to stay here. It seemed safer than trying to make my way home in that weather.”

Aegon nodded, though his lips curled into a slight, teasing grin. “So, you ended up stuck here with us then, huh?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, the tension easing a little. “I guess so. It wasn’t planned, but I’m glad I was able to stay safely.”

Alicent, noticing the exchange, chimed in before the moment could grow uncomfortable. “It’s no trouble at all. We were happy to have you stay, especially considering the weather. Aegon, Aemond, come sit down and join us for breakfast.”

Aegon shrugged, still half-smiling, and made his way to the table, taking a seat beside you. Aemond followed suit, though his movements were more deliberate, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he, too, sat down.

For a moment, the three of you fell into a comfortable silence as breakfast continued. Aegon, now fully awake, dug into his food with enthusiasm, while Aemond ate more slowly, his gaze occasionally flicking to you.

Aegon broke the silence first, his voice casual but laced with curiosity. “So, what’s the plan for today? I’m assuming we’re still doing our lessons, even with the storm?”

You glanced over at Alicent, who nodded in agreement. “Yes, the lessons will go on as planned. But perhaps we can take a break later, depending on how the weather is. We’ll adjust as needed.”

Aemond, not usually one to voice his thoughts so easily, glanced at you before speaking. “Are you… comfortable here? I didn’t expect you to have stayed overnight.”

You caught the subtle hint of concern in his voice, though his face remained calm. You smiled gently, wanting to put him at ease. “I’m fine, really. It’s been… a nice change of pace.”

Aegon gave you a sly look, clearly amused. “Well, I hope we’re not too much of a shock. It’s not every day we have a guest staying the night.”

You chuckled again, your nerves slowly easing. “It’s fine. You all have been very welcoming. I’m just grateful to be here.”

Aemond and Aegon exchanged a glance, the atmosphere lighter now. For a brief moment, you felt like you weren’t just a tutor in this house, but a part of something that had the potential to become more meaningful.

As breakfast continued, the storm outside began to subside, and with it, the uncertainty of the situation seemed to melt away.

You walked back to the guest room, your mind focused on the lessons you had planned for the day. The quiet of the house made it easier to think, but as you gathered your books and notes, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more happening around you. The storm had passed, leaving the house calm, almost too calm.

With your materials in hand, you made your way toward the study, the room where you normally taught Aegon and Aemond. As you stepped inside, you began to organize your notes, flipping through the pages of the history book and jotting down key points for the lesson. You were so absorbed in preparing that you didn’t immediately notice the sound of footsteps approaching.

When you heard a slight sound behind you, you turned to see Aemond standing in the doorway. His posture was straight, but there was something different in his expression today—his gaze was intense, deeper than usual. He was watching you with an unreadable look, his eyes studying you in a way that made you pause.

For a moment, the air between you felt charged, as though he had something to say but was deciding whether or not to speak.

“Aemond?” you asked softly, wondering if you had missed something or if he was simply waiting for you to acknowledge him.

He didn’t immediately respond, his eyes lingering on you for a few seconds longer before he stepped into the room, closing the door gently behind him.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said quietly, his voice low and deliberate.

You nodded, setting your notebook down on the desk and meeting his gaze. “Of course, what’s on your mind?”

Aemond hesitated for a moment, his usual calm demeanor flickering with a hint of uncertainty. “You’ve been teaching us for a while now… and I’ve noticed you’ve been spending a lot of time with us, outside of just the lessons.”

You raised an eyebrow slightly, curious where this conversation was heading. “I’m just doing my job. You both have potential, and I’m here to help you reach it.”

Aemond’s gaze softened for just a moment before his expression returned to its usual intensity. “That’s not what I meant.”

You waited for him to continue, feeling a little more nervous now.

“I… I’ve been thinking about how you’ve been with us, how you’ve been so patient, even when we don’t always make things easy,” Aemond said, his voice steady but carrying an unusual sincerity. “I appreciate it, more than you might realize.”

His words took you by surprise. You weren’t used to hearing this kind of openness from him, especially not in the middle of your lessons.

“Aemond…” you started, unsure of how to respond.

He held up a hand, stopping you before you could say more. “I just want you to know that I’m grateful. For your time, for your effort.”

You nodded, unsure of how to express the gratitude you felt for his honesty. “It’s nothing. You both are worth the effort.”

Aemond studied you for a moment longer, his eyes lingering in a way that made your heart race, and for the briefest of moments, you wondered if there was more he wanted to say, but he simply nodded and stepped back toward the door.

“I should let you get back to your work,” he said, though his tone was quieter than usual.

Before you could respond, he turned and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. His words lingered in your mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was behind that look in his eyes. Was he simply showing appreciation, or was there something more to it?

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you focused back on the lesson plans, though now your heart felt a little heavier. You had a feeling this wasn’t the last time Aemond would catch you off guard.

You tried to focus, continuing to write and prepare the lesson for the day. The sound of Aemond’s unexpected visit still lingered in your mind, but you pushed it aside, needing to concentrate on the task at hand. As you scribbled a few more notes, you suddenly heard footsteps approaching again, this time more relaxed and deliberate.

You turned your head to find Aegon standing in the doorway, looking much more put together than before. His hair was neatly styled, and his clothes were far more polished than the previous day. He leaned casually against the chalkboard, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he studied you.

“Still working hard, huh?” Aegon said, his voice playful, almost teasing. He pushed himself off the board, walking toward you with a confident stride. “I thought maybe you’d need a break from all that studying. You know, a bit of company might help.”

His words carried a hint of flirtation, a soft edge to them that made you pause for a moment. You tried to keep your focus, glancing up at him briefly before returning your attention to the notes on the desk. “I’m fine, Aegon. I have a lot to prepare for today.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying the fact that you were trying to keep things professional. He moved closer, now standing beside you, his presence almost overwhelming. “Come on, a little break won’t hurt. You’ve been at this for hours. You deserve some fun too, don’t you think?”

You felt a flush of warmth on your cheeks at his proximity, trying your best to maintain your composure. “I’m here to teach you two, not to have fun,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

Aegon raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with that response. “Teaching is fun, right? I mean, we’re not exactly the most difficult students, are we?” His tone was light, almost playful, but there was a glint of something more in his eyes.

You sighed, trying to ignore the way his words seemed to make the room feel smaller, more intimate. “I’m just doing my job,” you said, your voice steady even though your heart was beginning to race a little.

He didn’t seem to take that as an answer, though. “Maybe,” he mused, leaning down so his face was closer to yours, his presence more intense. “But I think you deserve more than just work. And I think you’ve earned a little break… with me.”

The way Aegon said it, with that mischievous grin on his face, made it clear that he wasn’t simply referring to a break from your work. For a moment, the tension in the air was thick, and you weren’t sure if he was teasing, flirting, or being serious. His eyes met yours, waiting for a response.

You swallowed, trying to maintain your professional composure despite the situation. “Aegon, you should focus on your studies,” you said, attempting to shift the conversation back to the lesson.

Aegon chuckled, clearly enjoying the playful back-and-forth. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave you to your work. But just know, I’m always around if you need a break.” He straightened up and gave you a wink before stepping back toward the door.

As he left, the room seemed to return to normal, but your heart was still racing. His words and the way he had looked at you left you uncertain about what his intentions were. Was he just playing around, or was there something more to his behavior? You shook your head, trying to focus back on your lesson plans, but Aegon’s presence lingered in the back of your mind.

You glanced at your watch, noticing that it was already 4 PM. Realizing that you had a bit of extra time, you decided to start the lesson a bit earlier than usual. With a quick breath, you grabbed your phone and sent a message to Aegon and Aemond, informing them that you were ready to begin the lesson.

“I’m starting the lesson early today. You can come whenever you’re ready.”

After sending the message, you placed your phone down and began organizing your materials, setting up the room for the session. As you waited, your thoughts wandered briefly to the conversation with Aegon earlier. You pushed it aside, reminding yourself that you had a job to do.

You were halfway through setting up the desk when you heard footsteps approaching the door. You straightened up, feeling a bit of anticipation as the door swung open to reveal Aegon and Aemond walking in. Both looked ready for the lesson, and they gave you a brief nod as they entered.

Aegon flashed a mischievous grin. “You decided to start early today, huh? You must be really eager to teach us,” he said, his tone light and playful.

Aemond, however, didn’t say much. He simply walked past his brother and took his usual seat, his eyes scanning the room as he prepared for the lesson.

“Alright, let’s get started,” you said, giving them both a firm nod. “Today’s lesson will be on the rise and fall of the Valyrian Freehold. I want you both to pay close attention to the details, as this is key to understanding the history of the Targaryens and how we arrived at where we are now.”

Aegon, always the more carefree of the two, leaned back in his chair, clearly ready to listen but also not completely focused. Aemond, on the other hand, was already giving you his full attention, his eyes fixed on your every word.

As you began the lesson, you could tell that Aegon was a bit distracted, his gaze occasionally drifting toward the window. You paused for a moment, glancing at him. “Aegon, focus,” you said with a slight smile. “This is important. History shapes the future.”

He grinned lazily but straightened up. “I’m listening,” he said, though his attention was clearly divided.

You continued, speaking more passionately about the history of the Valyrian Freehold, the dragons, and the catastrophic event that led to the Doom. Aemond’s eyes remained sharp, absorbing the information, while Aegon was slowly getting more engaged, asking the occasional question.

As the lesson progressed, you felt a sense of accomplishment. Despite Aegon’s initial distractions, you could see that both of them were slowly beginning to take the material seriously. Aemond, with his usual intensity, was already diving deep into the complexities of the history, while Aegon was starting to ask more thoughtful questions.

By the time you finished the lesson, you could feel the weight of the day behind you, but a sense of satisfaction lingered as you looked at the two of them. You were making progress, even if the road ahead was filled with distractions and moments of tension.

“Good work today,” you said, closing your notebook. “Let’s review this more in the next session. Aemond, you seemed to grasp it well. Aegon, you made some good points toward the end.”

Aegon smirked, sitting back in his chair. “Well, I try,” he said. “But I think I deserve a little reward for my efforts.”

You raised an eyebrow, unable to hide a small smile. “Let’s see how well you do on the next test first, Aegon.”

Aemond gave you a small nod of approval, looking like he had already moved on to thinking about the next lesson. “Thanks for the lesson,” he said, standing up. “We’ll be ready for the next one.”

With that, the session ended, and as they left the room, you couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of accomplishment.

You carefully packed up your books and notes, making sure everything was in order before heading to the guest room. The day had been long, and you could feel the weight of exhaustion settling in, but there was a small sense of satisfaction knowing you had managed to teach well despite the distractions.

As you walked toward the guest room, you couldn’t help but think about the lessons from today—especially Aegon’s playful nature and Aemond’s focused demeanor. It was clear they were both bright, but each had his own way of approaching things. Still, you had done your job, and that was all that mattered for now.

When you entered the guest room, you quickly gathered your things, tossing your bag over your shoulder. You paused for a moment to glance around the room, feeling a little strange about leaving this grand house. It had been a strange experience, but also one that gave you a glimpse into a different world.

As you turned to leave, you heard footsteps from the hallway. It was Aegon, walking toward you with a casual, easy smile on his face. “Leaving already?” he asked, his tone light. “We could have a little chat before you go. I mean, you’re always so serious about your lessons. Can’t we have a moment to relax?”

You smiled politely but shook your head. “I really need to get going, Aegon. My mother is probably waiting for me.”

Aegon chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re always in a rush, huh?” He gave a playful shrug. “Alright, if you have to go, I guess I won’t keep you. But remember, we’re always around if you want to talk or take a break from all that studying.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “Thanks, Aegon. Maybe another time.”

With that, you finally made your way out of the room and toward the front door, your bag slung over your shoulder. As you stepped outside, the cool air hit your face, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the day begin to lift.

You made your way to the front gate, where you were once again greeted by the sound of a car pulling up. The driver who had been sent for you before was there again, and you got in, nodding a quick thanks as he started the engine.

The ride home was quiet, and as you neared your house, you found yourself looking forward to a peaceful evening with your mother. It had been a long day, and you knew she’d be happy to see you home.

When you arrived, your mother was waiting for you, as you had expected. She smiled warmly as you entered, and you couldn’t help but feel a wave of comfort wash over you. You had missed her, and now that you were back, the stress of the day seemed to melt away.

“How was your day, darling?” she asked, her voice soft and caring as she placed a hand on your shoulder.

You smiled back at her, feeling the weight of the day finally ease. “It was good, Mother. A bit tiring, but good.”

And for the rest of the evening, you allowed yourself to relax, knowing that you’d face another day with Aegon and Aemond tomorrow. But for now, you were happy to be home.

Tag list : @danytar @zaldritzosrose @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @giirlinblack

[mehilaiselokuva]

Finnish university unspoken social rules (+ handy rules for exchange here)

Because someone gave me this idea in my first unspoken rules post! Same disclaimers as before: these might vary or not be true at all. Just what I and others have observed! Some of these might also be pretty universal so take what you need!

If you get a pair of student overalls, you might need to know the "unspoken written rules", a.k.a. these rules that apply to overall wearing. You might not be told what these rules are or that they even exist but you Must Not break them. Read up!

The faculty are your equals. You can drop Mr. Mrs. and Professor when speaking about them (unless you are in an especially formal situation). It varies from person to person what the students call them so listen in on the Finnish students; they usually copy what they hear the most. Some of my professors are called by their first name and some by their last name.

More on above: you are expected to email your teachers/professors as soon as you have a question. Email etiquette is usually very relaxed. Teachers will generally not care if you send a "Hi (last name). How do I open this file. Thanks" type message.

You might think of the finns as very shy people, but university might be one of the big expectations. Usually, during orientation week, everyone is looking for friends. Do not be shy to interrupt anyone and ask for directions! We have been there once too!

Studying at the campuses and libraries is common, but remember to check if your university labels study spots by type. Our university has different types depending on how loud you can be and if you can eat snacks there or not. It's a big no-no to bring your friends to chat at the no-food-no-eating-no-keyboard-noise spot!

You might come from a country where university is still done on paper, but here everything is digital. You usually need some kind of digital device to access files and stuff. I myself write my notes on paper but have my phone with me and access anything through that. (You might come across mysterious and cool if you handwrite your notes as digitally typing your notes is more common!)

Most exams are digital, so if you have an exam coming, check what kind it is (paper or computer) and bring what applies. Not bringing in the correct medium might automatically fail your course if your teacher is strict!

Depending on what kind of course you are taking, review the conventions for citing things & essay forming. I have found that the Finnish standard is different to some other western conventions I have come across. Ask your instructors right away if you have questions. Some instructors want you to use different citing styles or require certain font sizes!

Faculty generally do not care if you can't make that 10am lecture on monday. They are tired too. They had a few sunday afternoon drinks just like you did. Take notes on the first day of the course on this! You do not need to email or contact your teacher for being late or not showing up. (varies greatly by teacher and course so remember to check what each instructor wants)

Student organizations hold many types of events, many of which include drinking. Inquire from your organization if they offer alcohol-free drinks at a function if you need to. Often, some alcoholic beverage might be included for free in the ticket cost you pay. Be ready to be around drunk people if you decide to enter such event.

I could go on and on honestly! I wish I was informed about some of these rules when I first entered the university world...

[yeoldenews]

Hi! Where do you find all your news clippings, especially the Victorian ones? Currently I’ve been devouring every book I can get my hands on about Victorian era anything. But really I want to get a sense of the people, and I’d love to just browse through Victorian era letters/newspapers.

Thanks for any help or ideas!

While many historical newspapers are behind a paywall, there are still tons available for free online. Unfortunately they are scattered on lots of different sites so you sometimes have to dig a bit.

The largest single free online newspaper collection is Chronicling America, which is jointly run by National Endowment for the Humanities and the Library of Congress - however it only has American newspapers.

The National Library of Australia has a similar large online collection called Trove, and The National Library of New Zealand has Papers Past.

Most large universities or state historical societies have some sort of online newspaper collection, usually limited to their particular geographic area.

When I start a project focusing on a certain area my first google search is usually '[location] newspaper archives', just to see what pops up.

If you can't find what you're looking for on a free archive, try contacting your local public or university library! Many libraries have subscriptions to paid archival sites, some of which you can even access at home if you have a library card.

[foone]

The worst part of working at the Dimensional Nexus is that we don't get the regular internet there so you can't just watch your shows on Netflix or whatever. We gotta stick to analog media, since the digital stuff doesn't deal well with the temporal flux (the analog stuff doesn't either, but it's usually just a fuzzy image for a second, while your computer just crashes).

Everyone brings in their favorite media from home on old analog tapes (or laserdiscs. They're analog too! And we've got a couple hardened players on the lounge, so we can watch them).

Anyway while you're on-base (which could be for months or years), all your (video) media consumption ends up being on CRTs and piles of tapes you brought or traded with coworkers. Most people bring in a second suitcase of tapes so they'll have something to watch.

I brought in some letsplayers I stuck on a few VHS tapes (yt2vhs is a great program), and box sets of Star Trek: TNG and DS9.

About a month in, the trades really open up, as everyone has watched their own tapes and wants more. I got a good deal on a laserdisc of the Soviet version of... Well, nevermind. But let me just say, in my defense, the author of the books never went off the deep in in that universe, and the Soviet version wasn't made with her cooperation, anyway. I know that's sometimes a little difficult for people from the 91-verse to believe, but that's not the author's reputation in the rest of the Nexus.

Anyway I traded my TNG episodes for VOY. I've seen TNG a dozen times, so I figured it was time to go back over VOY.

It seemed to be pretty similar to what I remembered (other than them killing off Seska of all people at the beginning of S3? Who kills off your series's main villain?!) but at the end of S3 I hit the big divergence between our universes:

Seven. They introduced him early on in Scorpion, part 1, earlier than I remember.

The storyline goes mostly the same, with just a little less 7/Janeway romantic tension (do they even get together in this version? I'm gonna have to wait until season 5 to find out!)

Harry Kim lives in this version of Scorpion, too. I'm not sure why that is, they were clearly setting him up to die? Probably some executive meddling or something. I don't have access to Trekpedia (especially in that universe!) to check.

But yeah. This is one of the universes that got the twinky Seven instead of the catsuit-girl version (Not that this version wears any fewer catsuits). They got 9 seasons instead of the usual 5, so I'm excited to see if those extra ones are any good. When I was picking up the tapes I was surprised how many there were, and Josh told me in his universe they get home in season 6 and the remaining 3 seasons are a sort of spin-off/reboot done when Orbita took over from UPN.

Can't wait to see how that goes. More Star Treks need a post-script season (or three) made in the USSR!

Anyway I'm already looking forward to finishing this because I've already gotten a lead on a copy of TNG where Yaphet Kotto said Yes to the Picard role (sadly that version doesn't have the quintessential Jeffrey Combs as Riker, but I hear some people swear by the Gregg Marx Riker).

Still looking for any copies of the Kim Miyori-as-Data version of TNG. That one wasn't as popular (not it's vault! They had the US Doctor Who and both the Star Wars shows to go up against) so it's less likely to be brought in, but I'm always checking video libraries whenever I'm in that universe. Someday I'll find it. I found that fucking CED of the Walken A New Hope, I'll get the girl!Data TNG one of these days!

[pedrito-friskito]

disobedient - miguel o’hara x fem!reader (spidersona)

do you get off on disobeying me?

a/n: I regret fuck all folks. part 1 of 2 (no clue when part 2 will happen but it will). special shouts to @psychedelic-ink, @inklore, and @splendiferous-bitch for feeding my miguel obsession and being the best ❤️‍🔥

word count: 6.5k

warnings: oh mama. sex pollen, unprotected p-in-v, rough sex, desperate miguel, multiple orgasms, in a shocking twist a whole lotta exposition cuz I gotta make the fucking make sense, y’know?

✨@friskito-library for new works✨

You’re not supposed to do this.

You’re not supposed to be here, period, but the notion hasn’t stopped you thus far. It’s just gonna make him more pissed off than he normally is, but pissing Miguel O’Hara off has quickly climbed to the top of your list of talents, and you’re content to continue doing as you please.

Especially if it means he’ll keep glowering at you with those eyes of his.

+

It threw you off initially — him, in general. Unfairly large, all rippling muscle and too-tiny waist, the hip-to-shoulder ratio of a Dorito chip and retractable claws you’ve seen more than once now. Not to mention an ass that looks like it was sculpted by a god. But it was the eyes that caught your attention, when you caught him glowering at you from a shadowy corner, like a predator hunting its prey.

“You gonna keep gawking,” you’d asked, “or come say hello like a normal person?”

Neither of you fit that category — normal people, boring — and he’d ignored your quip, actually growling at you as he stalked out of the shadows and brushed past you, bumping your shoulder in the process, and your brow had lifted at the way his suit seemed to ripple with the impact, forming and reforming against his skin. You saw it all, thanks to your spider-tacular vision, and your next thought after I want to sink my teeth into that ass, was I need to get my hands on that fabric.

Six months later, and no dice. You’ve been bouncing between Earth 928 and whatever dimension suits your fancy since Miguel first brought you here. How you convinced him to hand over one of his fancy bracelets, you’ll never truly know, but you have a distinct feeling the nature of your first meeting was what prompted him to give you access to the multi-verse — along with a slew of rules you more often than not turned your nose up at.

It also probably has something to do with the fact that you didn’t leave Nueva York for the first month. You holed up in the room he provided, ate the food he left by the door, and slept your days away, ignoring the too-bright world outside the windows, content to waste away to nothing. You couldn’t go home, what did it matter anyway?

Enter Miguel O’Hara and his incredibly bite-able ass.

When he first found you on the rooftop, cornered you near the fire escape, you’d gone snarky, despite the rumble in your bones, the betrayal that had cut you to the core, the looming fact that shit had just hit the fan and nothing was ever going to be the same again. 

And then Mister Grumpy steps through a fucking portal and tells you he can save you. He can’t fix what happened, but he can take you somewhere they won’t find you again, a haven of sorts. For a moment, you reeled — how could you know for sure that you could trust him? You almost asked him as much, but then the blanket of realization swept over you: there was nothing left for you on Earth 374. The spider on his chest was clue enough that you were on the right track. Sure, his was bright red on dark blue, whereas your own was navy against slate grey, but the similarities were close enough, namely the giant fucking spider.

The door to the rooftop had jiggled and Miguel swept a hand out, shooting webbing at the handle, keeping it shut. “Clock’s ticking, princesa,” he told you, the nickname said almost tauntingly. “Offer’s about to expire.”

You knew there had to be other spider-people out there in the universe, you just hadn’t imagined them to be so…large.

Or demanding, you’d learn later. Or asshole-ish. Sigh.

“Get me the fuck outta here,” you answered, and that was that. You were standing in his lab in Nueva York a moment later, and the jolt of multi-dimensional travel had you puking your guts all over the glossy floor. Faintly, you’d heard Miguel’s grunt of disdain.

“Lyla, get someone to clean this up,” he said, and his hand curled around your arm a moment later, hauling you to your feet like a rag doll. “You’ll get used to it,” he told you. “The jumping. I did the same thing after my first time.”

You were too out of it to know if he was actually being nice, or if the subtle lift to the corner of his mouth was just amusement at your expense.

“Yeah, well, warn a girl next time, would you?”

But you did get used to it. Once you managed to get your ass out of bed and back into your suit, you were soon away from the Spider Society more than you were there. For the first couple weeks, Miguel hadn’t said a word, apparently content to let you go where you pleased, barely questioning you when you deigned to return. Then, it was like a switch was flipped, and he was up your ass — and not in a fun, sexy way. He wanted reports on each of your jumps, timelines and activity breakdowns. He wanted lists of targets, reasons behind them, background checks. All things you knew he could easily get himself, but you also didn’t have the guts to tell him that since he’d saved you from Earth 374, you hadn’t actually…helped…anyone.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. Your first solo jump you’d managed to find a few bank robberies and a mugging happening within a few blocks of each other. Clearly, you’d picked a gem of a universe, and while you’d managed to web up the bandits in the vault, something in you had frozen when you tried to track down the mugger. The scene unfolded on the street below and you just…shut down.

The rest of your trips were spent just exploring. You swung your way through cities, camped out on rooftops, just watching the normal people go about their lives down below. You noted the differences between that universe and your own, tried to remember where all the puzzle pieces fit, even though you were looking at a different picture.

And it’s that curiosity, that quiet desperation to know more, that has you padding out of your room in the Spider Society tower, overriding the elevator that’ll take you up to Miguel’s lab. His currently empty lab. The man himself has been away on a scouting mission for nearly forty-eight hours, and you’re not expecting him back for another twenty-four, which gives you more than enough time to satisfy that annoying voice in the back of your head that wants to know how they’re doing.

It’s late. The world outside the tower is dark, the sky an inky black, streaked with light shades, dotted with stars. You’d be a fool not to find Earth 928 and Nueva York beautiful in their own strange, overly modern ways, but even six months in, it’s hard to think of it as home.

But you know why. It’s because it’s not. 

You’d lasted a few days before you started glitching, and being cooped up in your room, you assumed you’d be able to hide it from Miguel. Part of you feared that if he knew something was wrong with you, he’d send you back to 374, and then what would happen to you?

You went to sleep worrying it over in your mind, and woke up to a complicated-looking watch sitting on the nightstand beside your bed. A hastily scrawled note stuck to it.

Put it on. It’ll help.

As soon as you did, the device beeped to life, a holographic screen jumping up, telling you the date and time and a myriad of other pieces of information. And then—

“Hiya, toots! I’m Lyla.”

You were confused as hell by the AI at first, but you quickly realized how useful she was, even more knowledgeable than Miguel, not that she’d ever admit it. And, in all honesty, you were a fan of the gab sessions. When Miguel wasn’t working her overtime, she’d beep her way through your watch for a good chat, perch herself on your pillow in the days you were still a shut-in, and when you started to make your way through the multi-verse, she was quick to point out the must-sees wherever you were.

She ran out quickly when she realized you were visiting the same place, just a different universe.

+

The doors to Miguel’s lab whoosh open at your approach, bare feet padding along the glass floor, and as you pause, getting yourself a cup of coffee from the forever-full carafe he keeps far away from the supercomputer, your watch pings to life, and the AI herself glitters into existence.

“What d’you think you’re doing?”

You ignore her at first, fixing your coffee the way you like it, flicking the stir stick into the trash before bringing the cup to your lips. It’s not until you start toward the computer and the large platform that houses it, that you answer her.

“Nothin’.”

She groans. “That’s a load of shit and we both know it.”

“He’s not here,” you say, shrugging a shoulder as you step onto the platform. The screens hum to life as you drag one hand across the infrared keyboard and when you glance over your shoulder, Lyla’s staring at you over the top of her heart-shaped glasses. “What he won’t know won’t hurt him.”

“And you really think doing exactly what he told you not to do is the best idea?”

You sigh, sipping your coffee as you sink into the chair, rolling yourself close to the computers. Miguel rarely uses the chair, apparently content to just stand and stare all broodingly at the screens. You only watched him — caught him — do this once, but when you caught on to what was happening, you filed the information away. He’d given you hell for snooping around, though you teased that he was just pissed you’d managed to sneak up on him, and according to Lyla, nobody does that.

Fingers hovering over the keyboard, you pause. He did tell you, rather specifically, not to do what you’re about to do. He didn’t tell you why, wouldn’t give an inch when you pressed him, but he was firm.

No good will come of it.

+

Earth 473. Not an identical twin to your home universe, but a very close sibling. The differences were so small, so scarce, that you truly thought you’d stumbled back to 374 accidentally, and you’d nearly jumped back to Nueva York, heart in your throat. But then something caught your eye, and you froze.

Across the way, teetering at the edge of the rooftop, was Spider-Man.

His suit was the opposite of yours, the spider grey and the suit navy. You could feel him staring right back at you, even at the distance, and as you stared back, he lifted his hand. For a moment you thought he might wave, your own fingers twitching to return the gesture, but then it continued up, gripping the back of his mask and yanking it from his bed.

You saw his mouth form the words, heard them like a whisper in the air.

“You’re alive.”

Your frozen heart dropped into your toes.

It was Peter. Your Peter, the one you’d left behind on Earth 374, your best friend, the one who…who…

You didn’t have it in you to finish the thought. It was all the evidence you needed to know that this universe was not yours. You were the only Spider-Person on 374, and your Peter wasn’t…he couldn’t…

You’d stumbled backward, blindly grabbing for your watch, suddenly desperate to be back in the SS tower. But then you paused, your fingers twitching on the dials and digits.

And you almost went exactly where you weren’t supposed to. Like a reflex. Shaking yourself, you punched in 928, everything in you twisting and turning as you stepped through the portal.

Miguel was waiting. He’d been watching you, paying close attention to that particular jump, and had used the link through your watch to see what you saw. The opposite-but-mirror image on the rooftop.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, his voice low, that deep timbre that still managed to catch you off guard. “The multi-verse doesn’t work that way.”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” you spat back, shrugging off his hand when he tried to grab your arm. “You have no idea what I’m feeling.”

His face had gone feral. Those carmine eyes flaring, staring down his nose at you while you just stared right back, defiant. You went to step past him, and he caught you again, this time his longer fingers wrapping around your forearm, the tell-tale prick of his talons biting through your suit.

“I know a fuck load more than you seem to think,” he snarled, dragging you close to he was in your face. “In case you forgot, I’ve been at this a hell of a lot longer than you have, and what you saw out there, what it means to you, I know exactly where your mind went. And I am telling you: the multi-verse does not work like that.”

“What am I thinking?” you spat back, ignoring the pinpricks of pain that shot through your arm as you got even closer, leaning up on your toes. “If you’re so fucking knowledgeable, tell me.”

He released you, then. The pain in your arm dissipated as quickly as it had come, and his eyes went…soft. Thoughtful.

Sympathetic.

“You’re thinking,” he started, inhaling deeply, rubbing two fingers between his brows as he spoke, “that you could go back there, to 473, and make a life for yourself. The same family, the same friends, the same life. They lost their version of you, so why not fill her shoes? Find some semi-logical explanation, hide your powers, live your life. Am I close?”

You almost stumbled backward, the truth of his words sending you reeling. You bumped into his desk instead, knocking a cup of coffee over, and neither of you said a word as the dark liquid spread across the desktop, dripping off the edge and onto the floor.

Miguel took a half-step toward you, then turned slightly, looking over the curve of his shoulder at you. Something in you longed to press your forehead against his frame, search for some kind of support, but you stayed stuck still.

“I know,” he continued, turning his head, staring straight ahead, “because I did exactly the same thing. And I lost everything.”

+

His words echo through your mind now, the deep tone you’ve gotten very familiar with, and you shake your head, clearing away the cobwebs he’s left in your head. “This is different,” you say aloud, partially to Lyla, partially to yourself. “I’m not going there, I’m just…checking in.”

The AI rolls her eyes at you and snaps her gum. “I said it once and I’ll say it again: load of shit.”

Your fingers fly over the keyboard, typing in the codes to find what you’re looking for. You haven’t been back to 473 since that jump; Miguel had forbade it after your spat, and even went so far as to block your watch from taking you there. You thought he was being unreasonable, and he reiterated that he was actually trying to keep you safe.

No good will come of it.

You hit the final key, and the images start to fade in. You can just barely make out the shape of her — of you — when the screens go black. Your breath catches in your throat as a large hand comes down on your shoulder, gripping tightly, though you don’t feel the pricks of his talons.

“Do you get off on disobeying me?”

The words are almost a purr, the opposite of the tone you’re expecting, and from the corner of your eye, you see Lyla blip from existence. It makes goosebumps rise on your skin, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end as he leans in, hot breath on your ear.

“If I make you cum, will that make you more obedient? Hm?”

“What the fu—” you start, trying to whirl around, but his grip on you is solid, warm palm following the curve of your shoulder until his fingers are wrapping themselves around your throat. It’s a welcome weight, sparks of electricity shooting down your limbs, your thighs rubbing together to relieve the instant pressure. “Mmm.”

His thumb presses down on your racing pulse, and you’re suddenly aware of how warm he is. He’s…too warm. But you have to admit, the way he’s holding you…it’s nice. Really nice.

“Miguel,” you start, trying to turn again, but he fits his face into the bare side of your neck, lips grazing the thin skin. “You’re not supposed to be back yet.”

“Mission went south,” he mumbles against you, his tongue darting past his lips and dragging along your skin. It makes your eyes roll back, but…

Where is this coming from?

He should be furious with you. He caught you red-handed, no questions about it. You weren’t expecting him to find you in the first place, but now that he has, you’re expecting a screaming match, toddler-level foot-stomping and possibly being thrown over his ridiculously large shoulder and being tossed into your room like a rag doll. Locked up like Rapunzel until you start listening to his brand of reasoning. You’re expecting a blowout.

You’re not expecting this.

He huffs in your ear as his lips graze the sensitive skin beneath it, his words spoken into the shell, tongue catching on your earring. “You smell delicious, cariño.”

The pet name makes you shiver. “Mig,” you say again, your hand covering his as his other arm wraps around your middle, pulling you back against his chest. “What are you doing?”

His heart is racing, so hard that you can feel the heavy thump of it against your spine. It’s too fast, even for him, you know that much. His fingers curl against your stomach, talons poking out and shredding your shirt to strips. You gasp as the fabric falls away.

“Miguel.” You make your voice as stern as possible. It’s not that you don’t want him to touch you like this, it just seems so sudden, so out of character, and you—

He wrenches himself away from you, the heady warmth of him suddenly gone, and you whirl, hand flying up to grip your neck as the sound of him crashing into the wall reaches your ears. His fingers are leaving indents in the metal, talons scratching deep, and you gulp as you realize you’re lucky he didn’t just accidentally slit your throat.

Whatever’s happening, he’s not himself.

“Mig,” you call, wiping your bloody hand on your sweats, crossing the distance he’s put between you. “Would you just talk t—”

“NO!” he roars, throwing a hand out in front of himself. You can see his large frame shake as he sinks down against the wall, long tears in the metal forming in his wake. “Keep your distance.”

Your brow lifts. “Says the man who was literally crawling up my ass three seconds ago.” You ignore him, taking another step, ignoring the way his words ring through your head. Do you get off on disobeying me?

Yeah…maybe you do. Just a little bit.

You crouch down low, getting on his level. “Mig, tell me what happened.”

“Don’t call me that,” he spits, staring you down for a moment before forcing his head to the side, an action that looks like it takes a lot of effort. “Just…go to your room, leave me be.”

“You telling me not to call you that just makes me wanna call you that more.” You shift onto your knees, inching a little closer. “I can’t leave you be, not when you just put a bunch of holes in the wall,” you lift your hand to your throat, where the scratches he left are already almost gone, “and almost in me. Tell me what happened.”

He tilts his head back against the wall, still turned away from you, one crimson eye looking your way. “Mierda, you’re stubborn.”

You roll your eyes. “Like you didn’t know that already. Talk.”

“Earth 1365-7,” he starts, eyes fluttering shut. His eyelashes are unfair, you think to yourself, the way they fan out across his even more unfair cheekbones. “I ended up in their version of OSCORP, some testing centre. Different serums and gases and…they were trying to weaponize a kind of paralytic that’s found in certain spider venom.”

His tongue pokes out after he says the word venom, tracing the tips of his fangs, and you swallow hard.

Bite me, bite me, bite me.

You shake your head, silencing the thought.

“And you stopped them?” you prompt, when he doesn’t go further, instead inhaling deeply and scrubbing a hand down his face.

“I did,” he tells you, but there’s no trace of triumph in his voice or on his face. “But I stumbled into one of the other labs, and as soon as I did…” He trails off, body shifting against the floor, and it’s impossible to miss the ripple in his skin-tight suit, the way he props one knee up, blocking your view of his crotch. “It was some sort of plant that they’d been researching. The pollen, it raises a person’s heart rate, skyrockets it, and muddles their senses. If left untreated, it can kill them.”

You stare at him hard. “What’s the treatment, Miguel?”

“The side effects,” he continues, ignoring your question. “Heightened blood pressure, extremely sensitive skin, lowered inhibitions, and…”

“Mig, would you just tell me?”

“Arousal,” he finishes, and you freeze. “Intense arousal. I didn’t mean to jump on you like that, I just…The only way to treat it is to…”

He doesn’t say it out loud, but the implication is clear, along with the intense reminder of how he was pressed against you.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, shrugging a shoulder, trying like hell to look non-committal, like your skin isn’t still tingling in all the places he touched you. “Lowered inhibitions, like you said.”

He doesn’t say anything so much as hum in response, his head lolling to the side again. His eyes are fire when they open again, landing on you and pinning you in place. It makes your breath hitch again, palms lowering to rest on your thighs.

“You need to get out of here, cariño,” he murmurs, his voice low, husky, fingers tapping against his bent knee. “I need to deal with this.”

You’ve inched a bit closer to him, you realize, your traitorous body giving you away.

“How are you gonna deal with it?” you ask, barely above a whisper. Every inch of you is tingling now, not just the places he touched, and the way he tilts his head back again and groans is not helping matters. “Maybe I should…help.”

His eyes flash to you, pools of red, pupils blown big as dinner plates. “You want to…help.”

“You said this could kill you,” you continue, leaning forward until your palms hit the floor. “Someone should…keep an eye on you, y’know. Make sure you…y’know, don’t.”

“How articulate of you.”

“Fuck off.”

He chuckles, the sound deep and rumbly, but you don’t miss the way his shoulders shake even after the laughter has stopped. His breathing is shaky too, you can hear it from where you’re crouched. Worry threads through the lust that’s seemingly replaced your blood, and you slide even closer to him, until there’s maybe two feet between you.

“I don’t want you to die.” The words hang heavy in the air and the truth of them twists your guts. Stubborn ass he may be, but he’s done nothing but protect you since he found you back on Earth 374. You…care. You care a lot.

“Lyla can keep an eye on me,” he spits, but you just get closer.

“So she can wipe her hard drive and clean her eyes with soap afterward?” you joke. “I can’t leave you like this, Mig. Can AIs even use soap?”

“Don’t call me that,” he says again.

“Let me help you,” you say, the words coming easier, firmer. “You know that I can.”

You close the distance completely, your knees bumping the side of his thigh and your hand covering his on the floor. The fabric of his suit recedes, revealing his hands, and your fingers brush over his knuckles. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” you tell him, leaning back on your heels, lifting your other hand to pull his bent knee straight. “You need help, and I’m offering it.”

He groans again.

“I’ve owed you, this whole time,” you continue, resting your hand on his shin as his leg rests on the floor. It takes everything in you not to let your eyes wander up to the space between his hips, but you manage. “You saved my life; let me save yours.”

The spider made you strong, made you fast, but Miguel…He’s so large, so imposing, and the moment his hands land on your body, you know he’s been holding back from you.

He maneuvers you into his lap, your knees resting against his hips. In an instant you can feel him, the hard prod of his cock against your cunt, separated only by the thin fabric of your pants and the rippling material of his suit. Miguel groans as he fits his face into your neck, talons pressing into your hips as the suit melts away, every inch of his golden skin suddenly on display. It’s overwhelming and your blood heats, unable to bite back the moan that slips free when he pulls your hips against his, the pressure between you exactly what you need it to be.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” he grits out, his hips lifting off the floor as he chases your body, as you chase each other. “This is just…”

“I’m helping,” you breathe out, your hands curling around his shoulders as you settle into his lap. Well, not so much as settle as twitch, the fabric of your shirt riding up as his hands move up your sides, curling around your ribs. “This is only about keeping you alive.”

“Alive,” he repeats, and you bite your lip, feeling his fingers curl into your shirt. “You have no fucking idea how…”

“God, shut up,” you groan, gripping his face in your hands, claiming his mouth for your own. The sound of tearing fabric reaches your ears as your lips meet his and he growls at you, shredding your shirt and tossing the fabric away, leaving you bare from the waist up. His hands drop to your ass then, tugging at your pants and you bite his bottom lip. “You could just ask nicely, you know.”

He just grunts in response, effectively splitting the elastic band and pulling the rest of your clothes away. You’re completely naked now, perched in his lap, and your skin heats in every spot you’re pressed to him. Which is basically everywhere. “I’ll get you new ones,” he grits, and you roll your eyes, biting at his lip again. 

There’s little ceremony to it. Miguel drags you along him a few times, the feel of him prodding between your legs lighting a fire in you. You can feel how big he is, but you busy yourself with his mouth, your knees pressing against his hips. One of his hands skims down your back, curving around your hip and sliding two fingers through your folds. It makes you keen, a moan ripping from your throat when he presses those fingers into you.

“Wet,” he grunts against your mouth, his breath stuttering as you clench around his digits. You rock your hips into his hand, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging until his head tips back.

“Take what you need,” you say, and for once, he listens to you.

The feeling of his fingers pulling out leaves you aching, but you’re not left waiting for long. He presses against the small of your back, tilting your hips, and then he’s inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. The sheer fullness that sweeps through you is almost too overwhelming, and your breath whooshes out of you as your chest slams into his. You can feel the way his heart is racing, the rapid thump beneath his sternum nearly vibrating against your own.

This doesn’t mean anything, you remind yourself, circling your hips as he plants his feet, bends his knees. He holds you up slightly, giving just enough space between you for him to thrust up into you, hitting a spot that makes you see stars. This is just…helping. I’m just being helpful.

You’re just…quickly reaching the most intense orgasm you’ve had in a hot second.

He keeps hammering into that same spot, the lab filling with the sound of his skin on yours, your panting breaths, and Miguel’s grunts. It’s fucking euphoric, your head falling back between your shoulders. “Mig, I—”

“Not yet,” he growls, and suddenly you’re being lifted, the heavy weight of him still pressed inside you. Your grip on each other is firm, and Miguel moves quickly, sweeping you out of the lab and through the door that leads to his room. You barely get a breath in before your back hits his mattress and he’s towering over you, his big hands curled around your thighs, kneeling so he can prop your ass up. The angle lets him drive deeper and you throw your arms over your head, curling your fingers in his bedsheets, trying to find some leverage.

One of his hands moves over you, palm grazing your stomach before moving down. He thumbs at your clit, dragging another moan out of you, his brow going hard. You have a better look at his face now, his expression pinched, eyes trained on where he’s pounding into you. His skin is damp with sweat, a sheen on his forehead, his mouth hanging open. You swear you can see his pulse jumping in his throat.

“Want you to cum, princesa,” he nearly begs, and the hitch in his voice makes goosebumps rise all over your body. “So. Fucking. Tight.” He punctuates each word with a deep thrust and everything in you goes impossibly tighter.

“This is about you,” you pant out, clawing at his sheets. “I don’t need—”

But you do. You really fucking do, but something about admitting that to him right here and now feels…wrong. It twists your gut in a not-so-fun way.

“I don’t care, I need you to cum,” he growls, releasing his grip on your thigh to grab at your chin, forcing your eyes on his. “Now.”

Suddenly, your body is not your own. It responds instantly to his command, a string threading your muscles drawing tight as a bow before snapping entirely. Your back arches against the mattress, so hard it just brings you closer to him and Miguel drops his head, dragging his nose up the middle of your chest. It courses through your entire body, your hips lifting entirely off the bed to chase him, to keep him buried within you.

He groans as you cum, the sound the only thing you’re aware of besides the pleasure setting your body on fire. There’s a ringing in your ears, your muscles going lax as you start to come down, but he doesn’t stop. One of your hands floats to his hair, tangling the sweat-damp strands around your knuckles and you can feel his growl shake your ribs.

“More,” he grits, raking his hands down your sides, gripping your hips again. You inhale sharply as his head turns, skirting across your chest to take your nipple between his lips. The pace is relentless, your body growing tight again with his movements. He’s playing you like a fucking fiddle, and you’re the first to admit you’re loving every second of it.

You manage to open your eyes, the pleasure receding just enough for you to regain some of your faculties.

He’s staring right back.

It makes you flinch, jolting in his grasp as his lips draw back, revealing one pointed fang. You shiver as he drags the tip of it around your nipple.

“Again.”

And again, your body obeys. This time it sneaks up on you more than barrels through you, making you throw your head back against the mattress. “Fuck, Miguel.” Your nails dig against his scalp, tugging at his hair, revelling in the noise it pulls out of him. You want to record it, put it on repeat, set it as your fucking ringtone. How the fuck is he doing this? This was supposed to be about him.

Not that you’re not enjoying yourself. Quite the opposite.

He’s still staring at you, peering up at you from where he’s bent against your chest. There’s something in those ridiculous eyes, something you have no name for, and you force your eyes away, moving them down his body, to where you can see him still driving into your cunt, the length of him slick with you. The sight alone makes you clench, and when you do, he curses under his breath.

“Where…?” he grits, the hoarseness in his voice drawing your eyes back up to his face.

He looks like he’s in pain. Your heart twists in your chest at the sight, reaching up to swipe your hand across his sweaty forehead. “Does it hurt?”

“I need…” He trails off, leaning into your touch, turning his head and nipping at your wrist, at your pulse. “Where can I…?”

“Wherever you want,” you pant, gasping as he drives as deep as inhumanly possible, moving you further up the bed. “Whatever you need to—”

You’re cut off by the roar that echoes through the room. He buries his face in your neck as it happens, most of his weight dropping onto you, hips pinning yours to the bed, chest pressed to yours. He pulls out at the last second, cock sliding through the hinge of your thigh, cum spurting hot against your stomach. He doesn’t seem to care about the mess he’s making of you both, his entire body covering yours as he shudders his way through it.

It feels like it lasts forever. His limbs go taut and then loose, his breath quickening and then slowing against the shell of your ear. You don’t know what else to do except hold him through it, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, one hand finding his hair once more. It’s like his release is chasing the pollen from his system, his superhuman body returning to his brand of normal. He babbles through some of it, grunts and moans and something that sounds almost like your name murmured in your ear.

You just hold him.

Eventually, he seems to come back to himself. You’re loathe to admit you’re revelling in the feel of him against you, the way his hands are tangled in your hair against his pillows. The weight of him is…it’s nice. It’s really fucking nice.

It’s too nice.

You wait a few minutes, wait for him to find his bearings, to peel himself away from you, but it never comes. He’s a solid weight on top of you, and while you’ve been listening to his erratic breathing, waiting for it to even out, you realize that it’s gone…slow. He’s asleep.

“Mig,” you murmur, barely above a whisper, tugging softly at his hair. Nothing. Not so much as a twitch. He’s dead to the world, his slow breaths turning to quiet snores in your ear. Carefully, inch by inch, you slide your way out from under him. You freeze when he rolls onto his side, his breath hitching for a moment, but it evens out again and you slip off the edge of his bed.

Your clothes are toast, the shreds of fabric scattered on the floor of the lab, so you slip into his closet, finding a t-shirt that’s way too big for you. You definitely don’t inhale the scent that clings to it as you slip it over your head.

Your steps are quiet as you pad back into his bedroom, leaned up on your toes as you peer at him. Still asleep, hasn’t so much as moved from the spot you left him. You draw closer, your fingers curled around the hem of his t-shirt.

He doesn’t move an inch as you reach for his wrist, easily slipping the watch off his wrist and replacing it with your own. The too-big band of his adjusts to your size as you close the latch around your wrist, turn on your heel, and scurry from the room, through the lab, shooting a web up at the ceiling and launching yourself up to the next floor, the level your room is on.

You don’t make a sound as you pack your bag, reluctantly shrugging out of Miguel’s t-shirt to put your suit on, stuffing it into your bag with handfuls of clothes, whatever random shit your muddled mind has decided you need to take with you.

It felt too nice.

You know what would happen, you’ve decided, if you stay. You’d drift off, there in his bed, enveloped by his broad frame, half-drunk off the scent of him. You’d get the best sleep of your life, and when you woke the next morning, he’d be there, staring down his nose at you, the desperate man that had pulled pleasure from your body like it was his damn day job replaced with the grumpy fuck that plucked your last nerve like a guitar string.

The problem was that you knew exactly what he’d say to you:

This doesn’t mean anything.

The problem is that you’ve grown to care too much for him, grumpy, desperate, and all things in between.

Lyla makes an appearance as you sling your bag over your shoulder, keying in the universe you want to jump to, Miguel’s watch not locked out the same way yours is. “You really think that’s a good idea?”

You lift a brow as she cocks her digital hip at you. “You want me to answer that? So you can tell me I’m full of shit?”

“Ideally, yes.”

“Can AIs make promises?”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Technically speaking.”

“Don’t tell him where I am,” you ask, pleading. “Please?”

“He’ll find out anyway,” she tells you, shaking her head, heart-shaped glasses slipping down her nose. Her eyes are big as she stares at you over the rims. “He’s smarter than you give him credit for. I know he’s a grumpy asshole ninety-nine percent of the time, but he—”

“Lyla, please.”

She sighs, sliding the glasses back up. “He won’t hear it from me.”

“Thank you.”

The portal crackles to life, that familiar tug in your stomach as you step toward it. Lyla fades from view as you take another step, and you ignore the echo of Miguel’s voice calling your name, and step through completely.

[redgoldsparks]

May Reading & Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut. Unfortunately, I must include the usual set of bad news for book lovers :(

Texas SB-13, a senate bill that, according to the Austin American-Statesman, “would require school districts to pull books with ‘indecent,’ ‘profane’ or ‘sexually explicit’ content and grant elected board members veto power over new purchases," passed in the Senate and is now headed to Governor Greg Abbott's desk where he will either approve or veto it. If you live in Texas, or know anyone who lives in Texas, please ask them to tell Greg Abbot they oppose this bill. In addition to the quote above, any new book that a school library wishes to acquire would be subject to a 30-day public review period, after which the school board would have another month to approve or reject the book. This would be such a nightmare headache.

Book banning is now becoming more common in Canada. Minister of Education and Childcare Demetrios Nicolaides from Alberta, Canada, announced a public feedback process around what he called “extremely graphic and age-inappropriate content” in K-12 school library books. The four books singled out by the government as containing examples of such content are Blankets by Craig Thompson, Flamer by Mike Curato, Fun Home by Alison Bechdel, and Gender Queer, all of which are comics, three of which are queer. Folks in Alberta, Canada can share their opinion on book banning in this (very biased) survey before June 6. Please share this with your Canadian friends! (source)

This isn't related to books, but please keep contacting your Representatives about the Republican Budget Reconciliation, HR 1. Every single thing I learn about it sounds like a new level of hell. In addition to blocking states from regulating AI for ten years, stripping Medicaid from approximately 21% of trans adults and cutting abortion and healthcare access from millions more people, I now hear there's a hidden provision seeking to limit the ability of courts—including the U.S. Supreme Court—from enforcing their orders. "No court of the United States may use appropriated funds to enforce a contempt citation for failure to comply with an injunction or temporary restraining order if no security was given when the injunction or order was issued," the provision in the bill, which is more than 1,000 pages long, says.

The provision "would make most existing injunctions—in antitrust cases, police reform cases, school desegregation cases, and others—unenforceable," Erwin Chemerinsky, the dean of the University of California Berkeley School of Law, told Newsweek. "It serves no purpose but to weaken the power of the federal courts." (source) This is all extremely terrible, obviously. Please call your Senators, especially if they are Republicans, to tell them you oppose this.

I also have some good news! Two of the worst anti-library bills in the nation died earlier this month when Alabama SB6 and HB4—nicknamed the “Jail the Librarians Act”—failed to make it out of committee before the legislative session ended. The victory was the result of months of work by Read Freely Alabama, and the thousands of Alabama residents who rallied to their cause. If you live in a state with active book ban legislative battles, please join a state Freedom to Read group!

Okay thank you for sticking with me, here are the book reviews:

The Prisoner of Limnos by Lois McMaster Bujold read by Grover Gardener

Bujold had so much fun putting Penric in drag and in prison in the previous books, so she decided to do it again! Another fun installment of this series, with some character development that I did not expect. 

Idlewild by James Frankie Thomas 

This book walloped me! Set in 2002, which technically makes it historical fiction, this book follows a pair of nerdy queer high schoolers who develop an intense co-dependent friendship which is then destroyed just shy of their graduation by a series of painful emotional mistakes and unprocessed traumas. Nell is the only out lesbian at the small Quaker school in New York City. Fay is a self-professed 'fag hag' (a term which body slammed me back to the early 00s) or someone obsessed with gay men and gay male culture. I immediately clocked and read Fay as a gay trans man who lacked the language to express or definite himself as such. The book supports this reading, but also keeps the majority of the plot in an 18 month stretch of time in which Fay and Nell waltz through school joined at the hip, heckling their teachers, ignoring much of their homework, acting in the school play and musical, writing fan fiction about their classmates, and DMing each other on AOL until 2 or 3am every morning but never talking about their deepest emotional wounds. There were so many feelings and moments from this book which felt deeply, or even uncomfortably, familiar from my own gender confused teen years. But also this is a novel deeply interested in the concept of narrative foils and baby does it deliver on the mirrors, the parallels, and the consequences of layering your own expectations over a real human person in your life. I have some quibbles with the epilogue of the book (part of me wants to cut that part off completely) but overall I had a great time reading this and if you were gender nonconforming and in high school between like 1998-2008 it will likely hit you very hard as well. 

The River Has Roots by Amal El-Mohtar read by Gem Carmella 

I listened to the audiobook and it is SO gorgeously well produced; full of singing and atmospheric background sounds of water, rain, and rustling willows. If you like audio and can handle soundscaping I highly recommend that as the way to experience this fairly short but lovely queer fairy tale. One thing to note is that the audiobook is 4 hours long; but that it's actually one 3 hour story called "The River Has Roots" and then a second 1 hour long story which is a teaser for El-Mohtar's forthcoming short story collection. I enjoyed both but the second one doesn't have the emotional impact (in part provided by the music and sounds) of the first. 

Trans History: From Ancient Times to the Present Day by Alex L Combs and Andrew Eakett

A well-researched, thoughtful, engaging look at trans and gender nonconforming people through history and from all around the world. This book is very welcoming to newcomers, but also full of little gems for those of us who have been reading trans histories for years. Combs and Eakett come from within the trans community, but they also pass the mic to many other trans folks of different ages, races, nationalities, and identities to share non-white and non-Western experiences. A beautiful and compassionate primer!

Side Quest: A Visual History of Roleplaying Games by Samuel Sattin and Steenz 

A brief but engaging history of role playing games, which dips into some of the most ancient forms of recorded human gaming and the diverse development of war games, courtroom games, and board games which directly proceeded the creation Dungeons and Dragons in 1974. I should have guessed that D&D wasn't the first game that Gary Gygax or Dave Arneson created, and that it borrowed many mechanics, rules, and aesthetics of previous games but remixed into a more potently successful package. The back matter includes a short playable adventure! 

Unbecoming by Seema Yasmin 

In an alternate near future so close to our own it hardly feels speculative, two Muslim teens work on a guide on how to access abortion in Texas now that it is completely illegal, with prison sentences for anyone who even aids abortion access. For Laylah this is need is not theoretical- she's over two months pregnant and desperate to end the pregnancy without anyone in her life finding out. This stubborn shameful secrecy is not based in any specific logic, as it was made clear that Laylah's mother, grandmother, and best friend would immediately all support her and offer help if she asked. Meanwhile, Laylah's bestie Noor, a student journalist, is chasing the rumor of stolen donations made to the local mosque and an Iman's wife who might have taken them for her own purposes. There was a lot I enjoyed in this book, from very fun mixed media formatting choices, to the strong female friendship, to seeing two characters different relationship to religion. As an adult reader I was at times somewhat frustrated by the teens making foolish, self-sabotaging choices (please just be honest with your very supportive family!) but as a teen I think this book would have knocked my socks off. 

The Killing Moon by NK Jemisin read by Sarah Zimmerman 

Another home run of a book from NK Jemisin. This one is set in an alternate version of ancient Egypt, a city-state called Gujaareh, in which dreams serve as a source of magic. Sharers take dream-tithes from the citizens which they use to heal wounds and mental illness. Gatherers take a person's dreamblood- their life force- to be used in the service of Hananja, the moon goddess, ruler of the realm of dreams and the afterlife. One of these Gatherers is Ehiru, whose faith in his work and his mission is absolute- until he botches a gathering, accidentally sending a man's soul into the nightmare realm instead of a peaceful eternity. The man's angry spirit warns Ehiru that he is being used for corrupt purposes before it is ripped apart. Meanwhile, a diplomat from a neighboring country investigates her predecessor's probable murder; an apprentice-Gatherer begins his final training, not hiding the feelings he harbors for his mentor; and the Prince of the city, who killed his father and all of his siblings except one to gain the thrown plots a course towards immortality and domination. This book was written before the Broken Earth trilogy, and it's a bit easier of a read, partly because it is shorter. If you want to get into Jemisin but have been a bit intimidated, this is great book to start with. If you've already read Broken Earth, pick up this one too! It's a delightful treat. Re-read (audiobook) in 2025 and enjoyed it very much again!

Firebird by Sunmi 

This is a quiet, gentle coming of age story about two Korean American teens both trying to balance responsibilities of family and school with a search for their own identities and priorities. Caroline is a sophomore whose days are shaped by zero periods, band practice, studying, and reading fantasy romance comics when people aren't paying attention. Kim is a senior failing Algebra 2, possibly because she is in constant motion: picking her younger siblings up from school, working at a mechanic shop, teaching guitar lessons, helping her mom, and showing up at every social occasion even at very last minute notice. Caroline is assigned as Kim's math tutor, and that connection blooms into a friendship which pulls Caroline out of their shell and slows Kim down a little bit. I loved the hand inked line art and the soft way the story unfolded; it felt like real life. 

Watson’s Sketchbook by Molly Knox Ostertag 

The best reading experience of this book would be as a companion piece to a re-read of the complete set of Sherlock Holmes stories by Arthur Conan Doyle, as these sketches and short comics weave in between the canon filling in a compelling love story that can be glimpsed between the lines. As a long time Sherlock Holmes AU enjoyer, I am very happy to add this version to my collection! These comics can also be read on tumblr.

Strange Bedfellows by Ariel Slamet Reis 

Beautiful, but at times baffling, this comic follows Oberon, a trans college dropout living in a terraformed space colony where many people have developed superpowers of some sort, called Ghosts. Oberon has been struggling with burnout and migraines which doctors can't cure or diagnose. He's also the only person in his family without a magic power, which he has a real chip on his shoulder about. But then he starts manifesting things from his dreams, and also manifesting a grown up version of his high school crush, Kon. Oberon knows that this version of Kon is just a manifestation of his own fantasy and thoughts, but he started working with Kon to try and explore and train his new powers. I LOVED the art in this and was wowed by many of the action sequences but will admit I was at times kind of lost as to what was happening. It's a trippy, dreamy book! Pick it up when you are in the mood for a dream logic ride, not when you are in the mood for hard sci-fi.  

The King’s Companion by Hannah Hallman 

A sexy, self-aware fantasy story of an immortal elf lord falling for a human king. This comic was clearly born out of a Legolas/Aragorn fanfiction, but then grew into its own tender meditation on unrequited love and mismatched lifespans in a world of magic, danger, and adventure. It's spicy, it's funny, it's beautifully drawn, what's not to love? 

The Shadowed Sun by NK Jemisin read by Sarah Zimmerman 

NK Jemisin is a master world builder, and there was a lot of sensual pleasure in simply returning to the world of Gujaareh, a city infused with dream magic, ten years after the end of the events of the previous book. This second volume picks up a very minor character from book one (Wanahomen, son of the previous Prince) as well as some completely new characters (including Hanani, the first woman ever to be trained as a healer by the Hetawa) as its leads. This unlikely pair must work together to free their city from the Kisuati occupation which resulted from the last war. While I enjoyed how this book explored some of the indigenous tribes who live in the desert between Gujaareh and Kisua, I have some fundamental questions about the ethics underlying the plot. Gujaareh's justice system includes religious mercy killings, performed by characters who are written as sympathetic heroes. There's also a pretty black and white system for determining whether someone is corrupt, and so merits a mercy killing, or not corrupt, and so is allowed to continue on with their life. Multiple characters express that "intentions matter more than actions", a belief that is directly opposite of what I believe in our real world. Because intentions justify actions, it is okay for Wanahomen to start a violent uprising because his ultimate goal is to rule Gujaareh peacefully. SPOILERS: It's also apparently okay for him to put Hanani in a position where she is probably going to be raped, in order to cement a political alliance and his war plans. Hanani learns that Wanahomen set her up for a sexual assault but forgives him and ultimately falls in love with him. In addition to this, the main "villain" of this story is a disabled child, who is accidentally killing innocent people with her powerful nightmares; nightmares fueled by the abuse she has received at the hands of her father, who is also her grandfather, because she is the produce of incest and rape. This story is set in a world where healers can use magic to cure 90% of all wounds and illnesses, as well as some types of mental health issues. Yet Hanani makes the call the disabled child is too damaged to be healed, and that the best option for her is a mercy killing, since as long as she lives she will continue to kill other people around her unintentionally. Why isn't the dream blood magic strong enough to heal the child? Why is it the right choice to kill the child, who is killing people but without intention, in a world where supposedly intentions are more important than actions? In some ways the ending of this book feels like an echo of Omelas, but instead of keeping the child alive and suffering in the hole, Hanani must peacefully kill the child in her sleep in order for the utopian city life to continue. I don't know man. I'm just really not sure about the values this book seems to be arguing for. 

[route22ny]

Parks, libraries, museums: here’s why Trump is attacking America’s best-loved institutions

by Margaret Sullivan, The Guardian

The president’s funding cuts and bullying are about dividing Americans and tightening his grip on power

Mon 2 Jun 2025 08.00 EDT

The author and environmentalist Wallace Stegner called our national parks “America’s best idea”.

Certainly, these jewels – 85m acres of parkland throughout all the 50 states – are beloved by the public. So are America’s public libraries, arts organizations and museums.

But that hasn’t stopped the Trump administration from threatening or harming them.

These institutions are under siege. They are hurt by deep funding cuts, the loss or bullying of public employees and, in some cases, by threats of extinction.

Why would any politician – especially one as hungry for adulation as Donald Trump – go after such cherished parts of America?

It seems counterintuitive, but this is all a part of a broad plan that the great 20th century political thinker Hannah Arendt would have understood all too well.

Take away natural beauty, free access to books and support for the arts, and you end up with a less enlightened, more ignorant and less engaged public. That’s a public much more easily manipulated.

“A people that can no longer believe in anything cannot make up its mind,” said Arendt, a student of authoritarianism, in 1973. Eventually, such a public “is deprived … of its ability to think and judge”, and with people like that, “you can then do what you please”.

That’s what Trump and company are counting on.

It’s also part of the effort to divide Americans into two tribes – the elites and the regular folks, the blue and the red, the drivers of dorky hybrid sedans and the drivers of oversized pick-up trucks.

The arts and nature, by contrast, serve to unite us. When you’re admiring a redwood or gazing at the Grand Canyon, you’re neither Republican nor Democrat. The same goes for listening to a beautiful piece of new music or choosing library books to read with your children.

But division and grievance serve Trump better. And so, we have the attacks on marginalized people, on university research, and the performing arts, often in the guise of eliminating waste or discriminatory hiring practices.

“The Trump administration has launched a comprehensive attack on knowledge itself, a war against culture, history and science,” Adam Serwer wrote in the Atlantic recently in a much-discussed piece describing “the attack on knowledge”, putting in broad context Trump’s defunding of universities and attempts to discourage international scholarship.

What’s really going on is a longterm power grab.

In crippling learning, beauty and culture Trump and his helpers “seek to make the country more amenable to their political domination”.

When it comes to the parks, as the Guardian’s Annette McGivney reported recently, the harm is well under way.

Thousands of staffing cuts mean that many parks lack adequate supervision, that campgrounds are closed and that the care of precious natural resources is neglected.

Again, it’s by design, as the former national parks director Jonathan Jarvis told McGivney.

“There are ideologues who want to dismantle the federal government,” Jarvis said. “And the last thing they need is a highly popular federal agency that undermines their argument about how the government is dysfunctional.”

Mark Nebel, a longtime manager of a program at the Grand Canyon, and a true believer in the value of national parks, spoke about the personal toll.

“The Trump administration says this is all about efficiency, but it is nothing of the sort,” said Nebel, who became demoralized at the harm being done and abruptly resigned.

Reducing government waste may sound good but it looks more like willful destruction.

Among the many agencies that are under attack are the National Endowment for the Arts, the National Endowment for the Humanities, and the Institute of Museum and Library Services. These organizations provide crucial support for public libraries and museums, grants to artists and writers, and much more.

They make us better as a people. They uplift us. Like the parks, they can bring beauty into our lives. And as the poet John Keats wrote, beauty and truth are inseparable.

But truth is only trouble for the would-be autocrat.

And truth itself is under attack, as Trump – a prolific liar – tries to control the message to the public by controlling the reality-based press. That’s how successful propaganda works.

Toward that end, his administration is trying to defund public media, including NPR and PBS, and – partly through lawsuits against media organizations including CBS News and ABC News – to intimidate journalists and their corporate bosses.

A more ignorant, less enlightened, more divided electorate is far easier to manipulate. And the power grab, after all, is the larger aim.

Once that power is fully secured, there is no one left to challenge the endless grift and self-dealing that is a hallmark of this administration – the sale of meme coins, the pay-to-play pardons of criminals and the cultivation of rich guys and their fat wallets.

The diminishment of truth and beauty is part of a long game, but one that doesn’t have to prevail.

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2025/jun/02/national-parks-libraries-museums-trump

Margaret Sullivan is a Guardian US columnist writing on media, politics and culture

[anoant-haikyuu-dump]

Quick fic about Kenma and Fukunaga rooming together in college! 

Roughly 2300 words, Kenma POV, platonic, basically Fukunaga being odd and Kenma dealing with that. 

*Sidenote: i know roommate/dorm culture isn't the same in Japan as it is in the US but just suspend your disbelief lol

------

Kenma had no idea what to expect when he agreed to room with Fukunaga in their freshman year of university. Sure, the two had spent the better part of three years together— suffer through enough early-morning practices, grueling training camps, and endless bus rides with a guy and you come out the other side soul-bonded whether you like it or not. What truly solidified their bond was their third year. With Kuroo off to college and Hinata a whole prefecture away Kenma was practically forced to hang out with his fellow second-now-third years lest he fall back into the arms of his old hermit lifestyle, and as tempting as that was he promised Kuroo he’d leave the house more than once a month. Stupid childhood friends being concerned about your mental well-being. 

Although first-year Kenma would shudder at the thought of wasting all his free time on a weirdo like Fukunaga, much less Tora, it wasn’t nearly as miserable as he’d dreaded. The two were freaks— loud, obnoxious, guts-obsessed freaks in a certain ace’s case— but overtime he’d grown accustomed to their quirks. Those were his captains; they’d joined the club together, grown together, gone to nationals together. Laughed at Tora when he tangled himself in the net together (minus Tora, he was pissed). It’d be a lie to claim they didn't worm their way into his heart like the persistent little parasites they were. Those freaks were his friends, Kenma begrudgingly came to accept. Yes, even Tora. Besides, what other option did he have? Lev? He didn’t hate himself that much.

All that’s to say Kenma and Fukunaga were close. Tight, even. Enough for Fukunaga to know where the Kozume’s hid their spare key under a rock in the garden (though that was Kuroo’s fault for snitching). But three years of friendship and easy-access to one’s house doesn't instantly unlock all the mysteries of a person. Especially when that person is a complete and utter enigma like Shouhei Fukunga. 

This was proven not even a week into their first semester. Kenma had just finished a business class, which he’d spent pretending to take notes on his laptop while actually grinding away at some RPG from his steam library. He was expecting Fukunaga to be home since he didn't have class till the afternoon. 

He wasn’t expecting the unicycle. 

Where he got the thing was beyond Kenma, as was the way he effortlessly navigated their shoebox dorm without ramming into a single piece of furniture. It was honestly more impressive than surprising— Kenma wondered when he learned, how, why, before remembering who he was talking about. Fukunaga doing weird shit without explanation. Fork found in kitchen. Kenma had more important things to worry about, ignoring lectures on marketing management or whatever was a full-time job and he wanted to lie down. 

“I’m back.” He said with a yawn, kicking off his shoes as he shuffled over to his bed. 

“Hey.” Fukunaga replied. No acknowledgement of the situation, not that he expected any. 

Kenma got nice and cozy under the covers, then pulled out his computer to continue his game. He’d finished most of it while his professor was rambling on about how “this is going to be on the exam, blah blah blah” but he wanted to 100% it. Nothing better than an afternoon of achievement hunting. He spent a good 10 minutes combing through a dungeon in search of a secret boss, but for some reason he just couldn’t get into the zone. Probably had something to do with, oh you know, the whole-ass circus routine playing out not even five-feet away. He sighed and shut his laptop. Fine, he’ll bite. “What are you doing?” 

“Practicing.” A man of many words. 

He was tempted to ask “What for?” but knew that would only create more questions. Instead he called, “Know any tricks?” Without missing a beat Fukunaga reached into his hoodie pocket, whipped out three plastic balls, and started juggling. Figures.

Kenma sat there watching for god knows how long, long enough that Fukunaga had to hop down to get ready for class. He stuffed the unicycle under his bed, answering Kenma’s question of where he stored the thing, but creating the new question of what other garbage he had hidden down there. A secret for another day. With a classic “See ya later Alligator.” Fukunaga headed out, leaving Kenma alone with his thoughts. It was only then that it fully sunk-in— he’d just wasted the past few hours watching his roommate unicycle around their room like a clown-in-training and he didn’t even realize. Should he be pissed? Impressed that Fukunaga managed to hold his attention for so long? (some of those tricks were seriously complex). It wasn’t exactly the most productive use of an afternoon, but then again was he ever productive? Games, unicycling roommates, who’s to say what constitutes a good use of time? He figured a little change of pace wouldn’t kill him. 

---

The rest of the semester went on much like that, always something going on. One day Kenma came home to at least five kittens scampering around their dorm. All pets minus service animals were strictly off-limits so he wasn’t sure how Fuku,naga got them past security, nor how they vanished the next day without a trace. Another time he got super into chinese yoyo and nearly broke the overhead light with a misplaced throw. After that he got into regular yoyo and nearly broke a lamp.

A common Fukunaga-ism was for him to stop by random flea markets and buy whatever knick-knacks he could find. Because of that his side of the room was constantly cycling decor. Take, for instance, the inflatable tube man taped to the ceiling that always freaked Kenma out at night, or the kiddie pool in the corner full of ball pit balls from a kids’ center that’d shut down. Most of his purchases were bought purely based on their potential for puns, of which Fukunaga had plenty. Kenma always knew when he’d thought of a new one cause he’d silently giggle to himself in that way that makes him look like a chipmunk. Sometimes Kenma would ask to hear them, he’s always found Fukunaga funny. If he ever makes it as a big comedian Kenma’s taking credit for being the first person to tell him that. 

To put a long story short, rooming with Fukunaga was like living in a sitcom, except the writers ran out of normal scenarios six seasons ago and had resorted to throwing the most outlandish shit at the wall to see what stuck. The most surprising part?  Kenma didn’t even mind. It was a lot, yeah, but Fukunaga never dragged him into his shenanigans or invaded his space. Honestly the most annoying thing he did was invite Tora over, who was 10x more annoying than whatever new hobby Fukunaga had adopted for the week. Plus, it’s not like Kenma was the greatest roommate either. He was getting into streaming around this time so it wasn’t rare to find him shouting at his monitor past 4am or hogging 90% of the room’s outlets. Together they were the most dysfunctionally-functional duo in the building, and an infamous one at that.  

---

Kenma and Fukunaga were not popular among their floormates. They weren’t hated per say but if everyone else had to vote on a pair to banish from the building Kenma had a sneaking suspicion they’d be first in line. One reason for this was Kenma’s aforementioned streaming— Fukunaga didn’t mind the late-night noise but their neighbors weren’t too keen. The second reason was the unmistakeable stench that wafted from their room any time Fukunaga pulled out his little instant pot to make dinner. Kenma couldn't blame him, personally he’d rather knaw on uncooked blocks of ramen for every meal than step foot in their university’s dining hall. If it wasn’t for his streaming career taking off Kenma would be drowning in debt from all his food delivery fees. And to be fair the smell wasn’t always bad, Fukunaga was phenomenal at cooking after all. As a part-time chef he knew his stuff. The problem was his favorite foods. Octopus. Squid. Dousing everything in fish sauce. Their dorm might as well have been a seafood market. It didn’t help that Fukunaga always went way overboard— no hot pockets or box mac and cheese here, he had every prohibited appliance under the sun from a hot pot to a griddle to a waffle maker. Air fryer salmon doesn’t smell like roses. 

Kenma had never been the biggest eater. In highschool Kuroo always bothered him about that— skipping lunch isn’t healthy Kenma, you have to eat vegetables Kenma, three mints and a granola bar doesn’t count as dinner Kemna. It was annoying sometimes, especially at training camp when Bokuto got involved, but it was nice to know they cared. When Kuroo left for university the role of “Kenma’s feeder” was taken up by Tora (“OI KENMA, IF YOU DON’T EAT YOU’LL COLLAPSE ON COURT AND WE WON'T MAKE IT TO NATIONALS! THAT PLATE BETTER BE EMPTY WHEN I GET BACK”). Then graduation rolled around and for better or worse Kenma was free. He tried his best to eat decently as a promise to Kuroo but he often found himself forgetting to order food before restaurants closed. 

One night at some unholy hour Kenma was on his usual stream grind— he’d started in the afternoon and ended up getting so invested that he skipped class…and lunch…and dinner. It was a new game, ok? The cup noodles he planned on eating sat unopened at the edge of his desk. Noodles meant microwave, which meant getting up, which meant pausing his game, and that wasn’t an option at the moment. He was in for the long haul. Chat had been pestering him about eating for hours now but who cares about their opinion? They’d also been yapping about a ghost or some bullshit looming behind him all night so why should he trust them with anything? He didn’t even realize Fukunaga was still awake until he felt a light tap on his shoulder. With a yelp he spun around, spooked by the sudden touch. There he was holding out a bowl of curry, chat’s ghost. “Eat.” When Kenma didn’t take the bowl Fukunaga bopped him on the head with it. “Pretty sure starving on stream is against TOS.” Then he set the bowl down on his desk and disappeared. Every stream after that chat bothered Kenma about his “guardian angel” and asked for him to come say hi.

---

By their second year both Kenma and Fukunaga realized that university wasn’t for them. Kenma’s online career had skyrocketed and he was teaching himself more about business through the start of his own company than lectures and exams ever could. Fukunaga was gradually finding an audience at a nearby comedy club and had his own taste of internet fame when one of his sets got reposted online and went viral. It just wasn't worth staying enrolled for their future plans, thus the two were officially drop outs. With that said and done the time had come for them to part ways—there was no need to share an apartment, Kenma had enough cash to afford his own and Fukunaga made plans to move in with Tora. 

On the final day they stood outside next to the road, boxes stacked high as they waited for Kuroo and Tora to come pick them up. “Welp,” Fukunaga said, giving him a salute “It’s been an honor captain.”

“You were Nekoma's captain, not me.”

“First mate doesn’t have the same ring.” They laughed. Fukunaga went in for a hug, and for once Kenma let it happen. “Until we meet again boss.” 

Kenma snorted into his shoulder. “Please, our new places are only a few train stops away.” 

“How about until I ask Kuroo where your house key is hidden again.” 

“Don’t you dare.” 

In the passenger's seat of Kuroo’s sedan Kenma pressed against the window, watching as the world around him blurred into one big blob of city. Kuroo was saying something, idle chatter about classes or work or their friends, but Kenma was only half listening. On the one hand he was excited to have his own space for the first time in his life, the freedom to do anything he wanted any time he wanted without prying eyes. He could finally have a dedicated stream room, that was cool. On the other hand he had to admit, he was gonna miss the oddities that accompanied living with Fukunaga. The unpredictability, the jokes, the ever-changing decor, even the inflatable tube man hanging from the ceiling. And the home-cooked meals of course, going back to DoorDash was gonna be an adjustment. He figured if he missed his food that much he could drop by their apartment anytime. He’d have to deal with Tora now but maybe that wasn’t so bad. They were all adults now, more mature. Mellowed out (at least for Tora standards). He decided that he'd make a point to call his friends more often. 

“You ok?” a voice called, snapping Kenma out of his trance. Kuroo nudged his foot with his own. “You’ve been pretty quiet today, more than usual.” 

Kenma shot him a small smile. “Yeah, I'm good.” 

“Great, cause i'm gonna need you to listen to this next part-”  Years later when Fukunaga started appearing on tv interviews and variety shows Kenma was proud to say that they used to be roommates way back when, and that he was the first one to tell him his jokes were funny.

[witchofthesouls]

I would love to see you write some more culture differences between the bots and humans. If you wouldn’t mind :0 I wish we saw some in TFP

Same here. I love seeing world-building and deep lore, especially with other fantasy/sci-fi civilizations.

TFP gave us so much and so little at the same time. It's like going to a restaurant, you have a drink and great appetizers, so you're constantly waiting for the entrée that isn't coming!

TFP is also really fascinating when looking at it with the lens of the caste system and its deep roots within and among the 'bots, even their reduced circumstances. I get the feeling that Optimus is way more casual in way with his team than what the decorum would demand, even with his barriers.

The Autobots would find human cityscapes as quaint. Even the dense sprawls of megacities with towering high rises are paltry reminder of what they're used to.

Cybertron was a planet where its wilds had been tamed. Either reshaped or completely stripped. The Wastelands is/was an apt name for the baren landscapes outside the established city-states.

It wasn't just a large difference in public transport and zoning and sheer scale. It was also the functional design and architecture.

City-states mimicked the layouts of Titans' ground alt-modes. They didn't sprawl outward. Those had set perimeters based on Titans' outer defenses. Instead, the cities expanded up or down.

It wasn't limited to just a parking structure or secretive bases. Whole levels housed entire communities of what castes resided there: occupations, hospitals, sewage, refineries, restaurants, entertainment, and so much. Some mecha go without ever seeing the sunlight or feel real wind, especially those at the lowest of the system. The lowest castes are set all the way at the bottom, among ancient tech and dilapidated buildings. Sorting and recycling what could be kept and what must be sent back to the upper levels.

The concept of "open to the public" would confuse the Autobots. The Golden Age operated its society under the strict overview of a caste system, which expanded to "where" and "what" individuals of a caste could access.

Monster truck rallies fall under bloodsport to them. Bulkhead once scavenged money to watch and do small bets at high-stakes drift racing and lower-tier gladiator matches below the ground. Mecha still had to pay entrance fees to it.

Parks were under the Artisanal caste. Blending murals of legends, careful tending to fauna that are functionally extinct that was tailored to the agreed aesthetic, live music from specific pupils of masters, playing on instruments that merged with the gardens, so it was difficult to tell what was a tool and a plant or animal. And entry to any of it was only allowed for certain castes.

Universities were thriving, self-contained communities, and major points of power. No one off the list would be allowed into its grounds. All visitors and short-term guests were deeply screened and monitored. There is no such thing as "dropping by." Everything is meticulously planned and prepared. Unless a faculty member personally vouches for a guest, they must heed the numerous rules or a risk permanent banning.

Academia had long since been territorial over its talents and quality of its programs and people. They refuse to allow anyone outside its jurisdiction to bully one of its own. No matter the rank or caste, it will close its inescapable jaws around an outsider.

The fact that someone could go to a private university and simply jog upon its grounds is mind-boggling to the 'bots.

As well as libraries and their courses and workshops. So anyone can go? Anyone?! Everyone has access to the knowledge!? Can anyone simply go join a seminar on local gardening? Anyone can just go to a playground and start swinging or playing basketball or flying a kite or dancing to music? Anyone?

Bulkhead had a lot of questions for Jack and Raf since they're locals compared to Miko.

"So anyone can go?"

"Yeah. I used to spend my recess looking up bird anatomy and Ancient Greece and Egypt."

"You had a thing for ancient civilizations?" Raf asked.

"Doesn't everyone?" Jack shrugged. "Pharoahs and gladiators and old gods? We ate that up with mystery books or Goosebumps."

"I read Sherlock Holmes and the Chronicles of Narnia."

"Those are classics. Hey, did you get into The Lo-"

"Hold up," Bulkhead cut in, crouched down and leaning more forward, as if sharing a secret and quietly ask, "So anyone?"

"Yes. Anyone." Jack repeated, rapidly firing off each point with a finger. "Their family. Their friends. Their classmates. Their coworkers. Their pe-"

"Even, let's say, a construction worker. He could just go inside and pick up, I don't know, quantum physics? Anatomy of any frames? Gardening?"

"Sure." Raf squinted and moved to wipe off his glasses with his sleeves. "Clubs and people like to donate more to expand the base. Some of the college professors even leave early editions of their textbooks." Raf readjusted his glasses and beamed. "It's for easier access people and for an industrial copier."

"Oh..." There was a wealth of meaning in that small noise.

"You..." Jack struggled on the concept. Perhaps giant metal aliens didn't need books and could download information from their own internet. "You don't have libraries or schools?"

"No. We did." Bulkhead sighed. "I just wasn't allowed into them."

Out of all of them, Miko would be the to come the closest to understanding them in some ways. 出る杭は打たれる. The nail that sticks out gets hammered in.

As a transfer student from Japan, Miko does have instances of culture clashes with her American classmates and host family.

She's loud. She knows that. But Americans are a different breed with no restraint. In some ways, admirable. In others, incredibly frustrating.

Miko is used to a far heavier workload with long hours after-school and a busy city life. Jasper qualifies between a small and large town that she can't walk around easily on her own with the blazing heat and bitter cold nights and the lack of a car or a bike.

Detention in the US is a joke to her. Stay in school after it's over? She's used to doing that back at home with clubs and cleaning it. On a Saturday? Same thing. Some clubs back home ran long hours over the weekend. Do homework? She already finished it during lunch or between classes because she wants all the other time to herself and the 'bots.

Because Bulkhead gets a realization just how free the kids' social mobility is, he tries to get on Miko over her scrapping at school and her assignments, especially after Ratchet's high jacking their science projects resulted in failure. And that was another strange blow since Ratchet is a medic and a scientist. She's smart and quick and can be rough around the edges and so everywhere, and, to him, Miko deserves everything she could want in her short life. (And wasn't that also a terrifying concept to grasp? To just live and die under a single vorn?)

At first, Miko was getting annoyed because it's similar to the well-meaning nagging her host family does, but she reads the worry he has, and they have to really sit down and speak and soothe over his misunderstandings.

It comes as a huge surprise to her that Bulkhead can just download a language into him. Context and colloquialisms would be missing, and he needs work because he's a mix between extreme formality and, much to her delight, yakuza. And it's all because of her own frustration that English is her second language.