#but no period-typical homophobia or racism

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖The Captain and the Rake

Rated: Mature

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 7338

Tags: historical romance, regency time period, slavery, racism (not from Steve of Bucky tho), period-typical attitudes, prejudice, mermaids, curses, internalized homophobia, historical fantasy drama, prostitution, period typical race relations and terminology ("colored," "mixed," and "black" are used)

Summary: After receiving a large inheritance, Steve must travel to the West Indies to figure out the origins of a mysterious letter.

(Regency manips made by @amarriageoftrueminds)

A.N. This fic was originally for the Stucky historical fiction event in 2023. I never was able to finish due to injury, but thought I'd brush it off for Mermay this year. This fic contains subject matter to do with the trans-Atlantic slave trade, so please heed the tags as they are updated each chapter. Racial descriptors used in this fic include: colored, black, and a couple instances of negro. I did my best to balance historical realism without getting too offensive to the reader.\ The name "Alva" was chosen before I knew about Alba, I swear to God 😂

Chapter 1. A Great and Grievous Rumbling

Steve emerged from his stateroom when a knock came at the door and a gruff voice called out, “We’ll be makin’ port within the hour now, Capt’n!”

Thank goodness. 

He’d been queasy the entire trip, ever since they’d first sailed from Charleston and the rocking of the boat set into his bones. Storms had delayed their progress halfway through, and the closer they got to the equator, the more unbearable the underdecks of the ship had become. As a paying passenger, Steve was afforded small but tidy accommodations, and Captain Odinson had merrily invited him to explore the ship at his leisure, but Steve had been reticent to engage with the crew. They seemed … not distrustful of him, per se, but perhaps disdainful. In the way that men with hardened hands often disdained men with soft ones. One look at Steve, and they’d made up their minds about him being a spoilt “fancy man.”

Steve could concede that he was a comely fellow, with short, fair hair and uncommonly bright blue eyes. He sported a strong jaw and handsome nose, but his mouth had always struck him as a bit too feminine, and his eyelashes didn’t help the matter. He kept no beard, and was better groomed than the men on Odinson’s crew. Tack on the fact that he dressed in the fashion of his peers, and he supposed he might seem a bit foppish to a bunch of hard worn, seagoing men. But his body was tall and strong, towering over most other men back in New York by several inches at least. 

That didn’t seem to make a difference to the crew, who’d readily laughed at a man whose constitution was weakened by seasickness. Steve had kept to his cabin, reading what little he could in between bouts of nausea. To be called up to set his eyes on land was a mercy. He was relieved that the journey was almost over.

Steve emerged above deck and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light, the fresh air a tonic to his mood. It was late into the day now, the storms having swept away all traces of cloud cover. The tradewinds came in sharp and brisk, filling the ship’s sails and propelling them closer to the coast. Seeing the dark shapes of mountains swelling in the distance, Steve felt immense gratitude for land, and even greater excitement for the unknown. Nervousness, sure, it wasn’t all pleasant business that brought him halfway across the world. But he’d been going crazy back in New York. The pleasantries and mundanalities of society life having been twice as stifling after coming back from the war—and thrice as much since his inheritance. It’d been time for a change. 

“Got yer sea legs now, Capt’n Rosewater?” one of the younger cabin boys snickered as he passed by.

Steve waved him off with a gamely scowl and continued towards the port bow. He held firm to the banister and looked out at the churning waters below, then up to the land ahead. It was still too far away to make out all the details, but as the next few moments brought them closer, he could see more and more of the island: masses of trees and distant green hills, mountains beyond that, the white tops of breaking surf at the edges of the inlet, and then increasingly jewel blue tones of water that bled from pure azul, to aqua, to sparkling green in the shallows. It shocked Steve, how beautifully colorful it all was in comparison to the dull, muddy waters they’d left behind in Charleston. 

They sailed past a bar of land on the starboard. It jutted out far into the ocean, curling in like an arm, as if to cradle the ships come into harbor. Steve caught sight of stone ruins poking out of the water and strained to try and see more. Captain Odinson and his quartermaster—an imposing and impressive man named Heimdall—had spent their second evening at sea consoling Steve over his embarrassing queasiness, offering him drink and telling him fairy stories of the sunken pirate city of Port Royal. Standing in the just-setting sun, Steve had to squint to see. There appeared to be something left of the old town out on the sandbar, but not very much. Most of it must be underwater, Steve thought with disappointment. Earthquakes tended to do that. It sure didn’t live up to any of Odinson’s stories.

The sun was close to setting as they drew in, other ships in the harbor floating nearby with increasing frequency. There was one particularly massive frigate on the portside as they sailed, perhaps fifty yards away, and Steve noticed some of the crew shooting it dirty looks. He turned to watch as they passed. The other vessel was moored in place. It had thick, old rails with weathered paint up top and a pitch-blackened hull below, barnacles creeping far up the sides. No sails were rigged and no crew was visible, yet as he stood there, Steve began to hear something faint.

At first he thought he’d only imagined it, or that perhaps some of Odinson’s men were below deck, hauling heavy things about in their preparations for docking. But the sound came again, and Steve felt a chill on his skin as the sound grew unnaturally, filling his ears and consuming his senses to the exclusion of all else. Louder and louder it became, until he could feel it reverberating in his head, like the inside of a conch, like a pulse. Leaning harder against the rail, his fingers gripped the wood as he listened to the sound.

It was coming from the other ship, not theirs.

Steve glanced about, but none of the crew were paying attention. It was as though they couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t understand how that was possible, as the sound swelled to a grievous rumble that made his heart beat faster in fear. It sounded like a … like a machine, like some great and groaning monster was inside the belly of the other ship, producing a deep and steady pounding. Steve hadn’t a clue what on earth could make such a noise. They’d already passed the ship by, so the sound should be fading, not growing louder. It didn’t make any sense. Steve stood there, aghast and locked in place.

Until a hand clapped down on his shoulder from behind, and he all but jumped out of his skin. The roaring was sucked clean out of his ears, immediately replaced by the usual cadence of wind and boat deck chatter as Steve whipped around and blustered over the embarrassing yelp he’d given. “Oh! Quartermaster!” He straightened himself. “Um, forgive me. I didn’t hear you approach.”

The quartermaster’s eye twinkled as he stepped up to join him. His name was Heimdall. He’d seen where Steve was watching the other ship. Together they stood at the rail and observed the island that lay ahead of them. “That, back there,” he said, referencing the frigate.

“Yes,” Steve said, not quite wanting to look over his shoulder at it anymore. “What was that?” He meant the monstrous sound of it, but had an odd and chilling suspicion that he’d been the only one who’d heard the noise. “The ship,” he said. “Didn’t you … didn’t you hear it?”

“Hear what?” Heimdall peered at him strangely. “The Hannibal. A Guineaman, godforsaken craft.” When he could see that Steve didn’t understand the scorn in his voice, he told him, “That’d be one of the old slave ships, Captain.”

Steve felt his stomach drop out. “O-Oh?” Heimdall nodded. All of a sudden it seemed that he was doubly as black—and Steve doubly as aware of it. He bit the inside of his cheek as he wondered if Heimdall knew his business on the island. Steve had mentioned his inheritance to Captain Odinson, but no one else on the ship. He wasn’t exactly proud of it, and he hadn’t wanted word to get ‘round that he was a slaveholder. Assumptions might be made. No one here knew his character or his intentions, after all. Nobody knew about Sam, or Hamilton House back home in Brooklyn, or that Steve’s aunt in Utica often mailed him back issues from her subscription to the Emancipator. Steve frowned at the distant shoreline, resisting the urge to twist his fingers into his ears. They still held the echo of that phantom sound. “Ships like that still sail?” he asked. “How?”

“Sugar, molasses, rum.” Heimdall shrugged. “For less profit.”

Steve wasn’t an idiot. He knew how all three of those things were produced: sugarcane. He now owned a large plantation of the stuff. “I see,” he said stiffly. “Do you know what’s brought me out here, then?”

Heimdall looked over at him, and for a tense moment, Steve thought he’d say yes, but then the quartermaster’s mouth twitched up in a smirk of gentle disdain. “You’re from New York,” he drawled. “Only two things’ll bring a gentleman American out to this edge of the world: money, or a powerful need to run away from something.”

“Run away,” Steve murmured, thoughts instantly veering to the genteel form of Miss Alva Barclay. He fought not to wince. He wasn’t running, and certainly not from her. “Yes,” he said, wetting his lips as he realized that he could relax once again, because Heimdall had no ill opinion of him. The man obviously didn’t know. So, Steve joined him in staring ahead peaceably, watching as the edge of the world drew into clearer relief. 

“Jamaica at last!” Captain Odinson arrived happily at Steve’s side and threw his hand out at the town and the docks below. “Isn’t it beautiful? Just as I said!” 

No matter the topic, Odinson always seemed to say everything with a boom, his enthusiasm infectious. Steve nodded in agreement. “Indeed.” Even in the day’s waning light, everything seemed brighter here. Steve had never once seen an entire building painted egg yolk yellow. “I knew it would be warmer here, but not like this. I’m afraid my trunk won’t be suitable for such a climate.” When they’d departed Charleston, it had only just turned November. Now all he could see were palm trees and folks dressed in light cotton clothes or even with no shirts on at all. “Incredible.”

“Indeed. You may find your New York winters more difficult to bear, once you return.”

Steve grimaced, remembering the past two winters and how exceptionally harsh they had been. When he’d departed for Charleston, there’d already been snow on the ground in New York. One of the crew members called out to the Captain, and he excused himself from Steve’s company. Steve decided to remain where he was until the work of unloading the ship died down a bit, as he didn’t want to be in the way. He spent the time watching the docks below, fascinated by the scenery.

Despite the unsavory nature of his inheritance, Steve was still very excited to be in Jamaica. Already it seemed amazing, and he’d only stood there on the ship looking at the ruddy docks, not even yet ventured into the town! He took in all the action of the street: carts and chickens and sailors cursing at one another. There was so much green. The forest beyond seemed lush and dense, the wilderness of it curling in at the edges of the town and creeping to fill up empty spaces. And oh, with the sunset just beginning to cast its colors, Steve’s fingers itched to find a paintbrush. The people bustling about were of such variety and comport that he instantly knew a day in Kingston could never be dull. 

There were far more people of color than Steve had ever seen in one place. The ship captains and many of the crewmen were white, but not all, and out on the street there were many colored merchants and dockworkers. Groups of black and mixed-race children loitered about, looking hopeful for either mischief or play. Steve inhaled deeply, figuring that he’d continue to feel odd and out of place no matter what he did, but certain that he’d feel better once he’d visited his solicitor.

Mr. Coulson was due to arrive on the island within the week. Steve had corresponded with him before he’d departed from New York. Coulson had been to the West Indies many times, and had suggested they arrange for their travel schedules to align. He was the one who knew the most about Steve’s property in Jamaica, as he’d worked for and been closely acquainted with Steve’s late uncle, back in England. Steve hoped that Coulson would be there soon, as this was far from a leisure trip for him.

Coulson had warned Steve that there would be numerous steps to take, both legal and practical, before his end goal for the estate could be achieved. Nothing would be done in a day, little in a fortnight. It would take time, and both men had agreed to make themselves available on the island for not less than two months—and more, if need be. Steve himself had half a mind to winter over here and not return to New York until the spring. 

It took a while before the ship was fully unloaded. Steve disembarked and stood by his trunks as he waited for his ride. He was to be picked up by a man from the estate, so he kept an eye out for anyone who might be looking for him, and in the meantime bought a sweet bread from a street vendor and sat eating it next to his luggage. Wiping his hands clean, he reached into his breast pocket and retrieved the letter which he’d received in the post several months ago—the letter that had started this whole journey. He unfolded the paper and read the words that he all but knew by heart, at this point:

꘏ Mister Steven Rogers,  I hope this letter finds you well, and I send my condolences for the loss of your uncle. We are not acquainted, and indeed I’m sure you’ve never so much as heard my name spoken in conversation, as I have not spent time in New York in many years. I am writing in regards to what is going on at your property here. As I am sure you are aware, since the passing of your relation, Mr. Charles Cleland, the house of Shield Hall and all of its materials, peoples, and lands have come into your possession. As a fellow landowner on the island, I feel it is my duty to inform you that the operation which your uncle upkept in his lifetime has quickly deteriorated into a state of chaos and disrepair. The property is currently being mismanaged by several hired men, none of whom are keeping care of their charges, the land, or the profits that the land is meant to yield. Since this property is part of your estate, and your estate pays these very men’s wages, I felt I should write you.  There is a great manor house which sits functionally abandoned, with hardly a single man watching over it day and night. Vagrants have had to be chased away more than once. Your working men and women number close to two hundred, and they all have been treated harshly and unfairly by the overseers, often deprived of suitable conditions. The harvests of this past year were summarily affected by these happenings. Word of the disorganization and abuse has reached many in the community already, and rumors abound of the great discontent brewing amongst your slaves. I have received only general description of you from my aunt in New York, but am sure that you are a fine man and will agree with me that it is our Christian duty to treat all of God’s children with dignity and fairness, including the negro man in bondage. I urge you to come at once and see for yourself, for only then can things be put right. Your respectful neighbor,  J. Buchanan ꘏

Steve blinked down at the page, looking once more at that elegantly scrawled name: J. Buchanan. Only an educated and moneyed man would have such excellent penmanship, lending credence to the writer’s claims of who he was. But the letter was signed only with “J. Buchanan,” with no other identifying information given. It had arrived several months ago, posted from Kingston, Jamaica, but with no return address. Its author claimed to be a fellow landowner and wrote “neighbor” as his salutation, but when Steve had looked at records of land holdings on the island, he’d found no history of a Buchanan family.

Still, the stranger had thought the situation serious enough to contact Steve, and so whether the letter’s claims were true or not, Steve felt he should investigate. That was the only respectable thing to do, since it was his property now. The very land that made him rich.

That in itself was still novel. Steve had never owned much of anything, other than his house in Brooklyn which he’d inherited from his mother. He’d grown up privileged but not overly so, within the bounds of New York Society but never pursued the way that more moneyed gentlemen were. That had all changed once his uncle had passed and word got out that Steve now owned a large sugar plantation and all of the wealth that came with it. He’d spent the past twenty months fending off eager mothers and their daughters. Two seasons’ worth of balls, courtships, and fripperies had been useful in warding off the loneliness, but they were exhausting at the end of the day. 

And then there was Miss Barclay, who was one of the many ladies being continually foisted upon him. Though she was the most agreeable, Steve still felt that his lungs could take in twice the amount of oxygen now that he knew he was a thousand miles away from her—an ungenerous sentiment, perhaps, but nonetheless true.

Steve hadn’t yet spent much of his newfound fortune, the habits of a widowed spendthrift mother having been ingrained in him since boyhood; but the one thing he had indulged in, was the singular luxury of a private box at the opera house. A veritable bidding war had commenced when the next box over came up for sale not long after. That was how Steve had gotten to know Alva over the arias of Fidelio and Silvana, her mother always looming nearby like a hawk searching out prey.

Though Steve enjoyed Miss Barclay’s company as well as any other lady’s, it’d been months of these not so subtle overtures, and he feared he would soon wind up engaged if things continued on the way they were. Traveling to Jamaica now, he’d narrowly avoided the crux of this year’s winter season. It was his hope that this sojourn would send the message of his disinterest without him having to actually turn the poor girl down. Steve was only twenty-eight, after all. He wasn’t ready for all of that.

Both his solicitor in New York and Mr. Coulson in London had told him not to worry about the details of his inheritance and the running of the estate in Jamaica, insisting that others were handling it and his bank account would remain well-padded without any direct interference. “Nasty business, sugar,” Coulson advised, pointing out that Steve’s late uncle hadn’t visited the island himself in decades. It was a common arrangement that absentee landlords would hire competent men to manage the operations of their plantations. The hired men at Shield Hall would continue to do so, Coulson had assured, whilst Steve continued to reap the benefits. Steve had believed it for a time, and had been sufficiently distracted by the demands and complications of his sudden shift in New York Society. But as soon as the letter from J. Buchanan had arrived, everything had changed. 

Steve couldn’t ignore “the slave problem” anymore, and he had the exact excuse he needed to make a quick escape from the burgeoning weight of high society and all its expectations of him. He was grateful to J. Buchanan, whoever he was.

Carefully, he refolded the letter and tucked it back into his breast pocket. J claimed that conditions at Shield Hall were abusive. Steve couldn’t fathom a reason for a stranger to fabricate such a story. So here he was to see for himself. He was absolutely dreading it.

“There you are. Ha, I’d thought we’d lost you!” Steve looked up and saw Odinson approaching from across the cobblestone in long strides. “We’re nearly finished,” he said, eyeing up Steve’s luggage approvingly. “You pack light for a gentleman. You must have a sense of adventure!”

Steve gave a good-natured grimace. “I’d have said not, nineteen days ago, and yet here I stand.” He illustrated his meaning by looking about the wharf. Not even away from the docks yet, and already he’d seen a parrot with more colors in its feathers than any single living thing in Brooklyn. He scratched behind his ear. Life had been in color before, hadn’t it? Surely, New York wasn’t as dull and gray as his memory was now painting it. He said as much to Odinson, who agreed and noted the closest building’s bright coral stucco. That was when Steve caught sight of a crewmember lugging out his crate of painting supplies. “Oh! Over here! You can put that one just here. Thank you.” When Odinson raised an eyebrow, Steve explained, “Well, my easel and things. I paint. A bit.”

“An artist! Good for you.”

Steve blushed, but he could tell that Odinson meant no harm. Other men in Steve’s life had contrived plenty more obvious ways of telling him that it seemed foppish and silly for a man of his status to spend so much time on such a frivolous hobby. “Yes,” he agreed. “Subjects will be in no short supply, in this place.”

Captain Odinson bid him farewell once Steve’s helper arrived and made himself known. A large and competent man named M'baku had come from the estate with a carriage. Steve shook his hand and M'baku looked at him sternly and then announced that he would be Steve’s man whilst in town. (Steve feared that he might also be his property, but hadn’t yet gotten up the courage to ask.) “Erm … shall we be off?” he asked.

M'baku took the lead and indicated the carriage. He gruffly refused Steve’s help with the luggage, and sat up front on the bench while Steve rode as lone passenger. Since Shield Hall was located a ways outside of the city, and evening was nearly upon them, they sought out local accommodations. M'baku asked Steve what sort of place he wanted to go to. “Do you want a big room? Company?” he asked, a distinctive island accent clinging to his vowels. “There are a couple of places to choose from. Different.”

“Eh, anywhere will do,” Steve hemmed, adding offhandedly that he wouldn’t mind the company of others.

So M'baku drove them to the Royal Naval Hotel. It seemed a handsome establishment, lively even, with quite a few people loitering about the downstairs. Steve checked himself in and had his luggage sent up, then he walked to the lounge with M’baku by his side. There were many fine couches and tables for the hotel’s patrons to use. Steve and M'baku spoke together for a moment, discussing their plans for the next day, when they would meet again and depart for Shield Hall.

With that settled, M'baku seemed eager to leave, and Steve could see a fancily dressed woman standing in the doorway leading into the next parlor, hiding behind a partially tied back velvet drape. She was peeking out at M'baku and Steve with narrowed eyes, looking none too pleased. 

Steve turned back to M'baku and thanked him again for his help, eager to not have the prim hotel ladies complaining to management about him so soon. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he said in parting, and M'baku left as sternly as he’d arrived. Steve chanced a glance towards the draped doorway again, but the lady had turned away to converse with a gentleman. The backside of her gown faced Steve; a fine India silk and muslin, as was the fashion, but it was the amount of skin permitted to show which stood out. She wore no gloves, and Steve couldn’t keep his eyes from honing in at the low dip of the neckline which was nearly below the lady’s shoulder blades in the back. 

That tantalizing stretch of skin continued up her back and slim neck, to the mass of dark curls piled atop her head. Steve hadn’t realized it when she was peering out from the shadows before, but she wasn’t white. His own gaze narrowed at her in distaste, finding it odd that she of all people would take issue with a colored manservant being briefly inside the room.

Not that it was any different in New York. Indeed, Steve had tried—and failed—on an occasion or two to get Sam in with him to a certain place or another. Sometimes, if enough money was being spent and the proprietors were the right sort and employed discretion, there wouldn’t be much of a fuss made over who Steve wanted to have with him. But in many places, other patrons would eventually complain. However it was normally white people doing the complaining and looking down their noses.

The lady in the fine gown reacted to something her companion said, drawing Steve’s attention to the sound of her laughter that was like a little, tinkling bell. His eyes flicked up, and over her shoulder he caught the gaze of the gentleman with whom she was speaking. The man was easing off from the grin of a joke he’d told, and his still-laughing eyes locked intently on Steve. For a split second, it was electric, something in the man’s glittering eyes stealing the breath from Steve’s lungs.

Steve hurriedly looked away, feeling caught out. He thought he’d seen the man’s mouth twitch up there at the end, but he hadn’t the courage to turn back and check. The man was very good looking, in a rakish sort of way, with an unshaven jaw and murky blue eyes set in a handsome face. He kept his hair longer than was the fashion, but pulled back in a way that suited his features. He looked older than Steve’s own twenty-eight years, perhaps a man of twenty and fifteen or more, and he moved with the loose sort of confidence that a man did when he knew himself to be attractive. He was the exact type of fellow whom Steve avoided looking at or being around any more than was strictly necessary, lest he look or linger too long.

He turned away and ambled over into the next parlor, where he leant against the bar top and found his reprieve. He told the barkeep he’d have some good sort of rum, and took his drink off to another of the downstairs parlors, planting himself on a velvet settee where he could be out of the way and still observe the room at large. The place grew more crowded as evening drew in, and Steve saw enough to become convinced that the Royal Naval Hotel was not just a hotel: It was a bawdyhouse.

In the span of an hour, he witnessed no less than five different girls, interacting indecently amorous with seven different men, before taking said men’s hands and leading the grinning dopes away. Steve couldn’t see where they went once out of the room, but he could make an educated guess. None of these ladies wore gloves, either.

Incredible, he thought, as he watched one of them returning to approach her second gentleman within the span of forty minutes. The game began all over again, and Steve felt shocked and yet fascinated by her practiced movements and speech. It was like watching a ballet: scandalous and still elegant, the girl comporting herself with grace and impropriety all at once. Steve felt his cheeks heat as she left the room with her newest suiter, and he went back to the bar to get himself another pour.

A piano took up in one of the rooms, heard throughout the place, and more men came in. The number of women multiplied as well, but at a ratio which substantially favored the men. There were a number of British naval officers present, and Steve felt even more uncomfortable about that than he had been being led around by M'baku. He’d never hurt a negro man before, after all. He had killed English soldiers, and quite recently at that. 

The last time Steve had fought had been in Canada, less than two full years ago. Niagara, dead Indians just as plentiful as all the uniformed red-and-whites, bodies bleeding into the snow. Steve suddenly remembered that he’d resolved to not make his nationality overly apparent whilst visiting Jamaica—a very British colony. And he certainly wasn’t planning on letting anyone know about his recent military service. He hadn’t a clue what the English soldiers’ attitudes towards Americans were, but back in New York, no known Brit was yet tolerated in polite company, even these twenty long months after the war had ended. Steve was certain that he’d be treated poorly at best, pickpocketed or accosted in the street at worst. 

Unsurprisingly, about half of the men who filled The Royal Naval Hotel’s downstairs parlors wore the royal naval uniform. Some of them sat in groups and drank together and laughed, others played cards, their behavior for the most part unremarkable. But the ones who were there for other services made their interest plainly known as the evening wore on, and the ladies of the room would respond and float over like swans bobbing to breadcrumbs on a pond. It was not possible to miss that all of the crumbs were white, and all of the swans were black. 

They were black, and less black, light skinned, and very dark indeed; as exotic and varied as any man could want. Much like the very first lady whom Steve had observed, they all wore luxurious clothes in the current fashions, with their hair piled high and woven through with decoration, sweet silk shawls draped about their arms, necks left bare of any jewelry, bosoms powdered and presented. It really was a bit like watching the ballet, and as the evening wore on and Steve sat there drinking a second and then a third round of what the barkeep called “grog,” he found he couldn’t tear his eyes away from their dance.

They spoke and whispered into the men’s ears with cultured English and sometimes French, and they moved and walked like true ladies of society (at least when they weren’t sneakily sliding their hands into places they oughtn't be). Many of the men seemed respectful at best and besotted at worst, but Steve did catch a few dark glances that they would share amongst themselves when they thought the women weren’t looking. The way they looked made Steve uncomfortable—less so for the impropriety of it all, and more so for how it made him recognize his own lack of such interest.

For a moment, he thought again of Alva, back in New York. She was a pretty and tolerable girl, well-mannered and quick-witted even, with an interest in the theater and the arts that, while not matching Steve’s own, was robust enough to hold a conversation. He had no real objections to her other than that he didn’t love her, which in itself wasn’t uncommon between couples courting engagements. The thing was though: Steve had never loved any girl at all. He’d never felt the real and pressing temptation that other men seemed to harbor deep within themselves. He lacked that natural inclination which made men’s eyes linger and their gazes go dark behind ladies’ backs. 

Steve squirmed in his seat, agitated when he tried and failed to view the various prostitutes as the other men saw them: alluring, desirable, lustful. He thought they were very pretty and graceful, of course, but in the way that birds were pretty and that cats were graceful. He felt nothing more towards them. Certainly not the things that the British naval officers clearly felt. … Certainly not the things which Steve had been known to feel about certain men.

He felt his cheeks go hot as his mind strayed to the unbidden memory of a crowded house: Bleecker street, dark rooms filled with smoke and drink and chatter, people in less and less clothing the further in one went. A broad back, two men pulling off shirts, their squared jaws kissing against a couch. Steve had nearly dropped his brandy glass when he’d walked in on it. He’d always fraternized with the bohemian types through his interests in the arts, and parties in the Village were undoubtedly of a different ilk, but he���d never imagined that any man could just … would just … 

And right there in the middle of an unlocked room, no less! With others not even ten paces away who might look, might see—who had seen, and had simply looked the other way. 

The drapes in that Molly house had all been heavy and drawn.

Steve squinched his eyes shut to try and knock the memory from his mind. Perhaps he should choose a woman, he thought. Try and pretend for a night, maybe even awaken the desire inside himself that he was supposed to have. Steve had never been with a woman, so perhaps his perversion was only due to inexperience. Perhaps he could change, if only he put in some effort and sought out a beautiful, soft body.

He drank the last of his rum and kept hold of the glass, keen on going to the bar for another pour. Three miserable weeks at sea and not a drop had passed his lips. He was overdue to indulge in one way or another. And since he wasn’t likely to work up the nerve to actually pay a woman for her company, he thought he might as well drink. The rum was sweet, after all. 

Just as he was about to stand, a dress’ hem appeared in his field of vision, the tiny white points of a lady’s satin slippers peeking out from the bottom. Slowly, Steve let his eyes trail up. Oh. It was the same girl as before, the one who’d observed Steve and M'baku with meanly narrowed eyes. She didn’t look quite so peevish now. Her dark hair was curled and styled to frame her face, her cream-in-coffee skin on prominent display in the shelf of her bosom against the dress. Her features were graceful and classically feminine, but she had a prominent forehead and a dimple in her chin that elevated her from simply pretty, to handsomely striking. Really, she seemed a girl of hardly twenty, but her perceptive eyes hinted that she might be older.

“Hello,” she said, stepping even closer, until Steve could smell her perfume. “I saw you alone over here and thought I’d come to say hello. Maybe even cheer you up.”

“Cheer me up?” Steve breathed, then sat there like a dummy, speechless for long seconds. He hadn’t entertained the possibility that any of the working women would focus their attentions on him. Not when there were so many other eager breadcrumbs fellows in the middle of the room. “Well, I’m uh, I don’t need … cheer,” is what he eventually said, the words coming out weaker than intended. He watched as the girl’s features pinched in a polite sort of titter at his expense. Steve could hardly blame her. He sounded like a regular moron.

She perched herself daintily on the cushion beside him. “Don’t be silly. Everyone needs company.” Her voice, Steve noted, was fluid and viscous, like warmed honey. She lacked the island twang and in its place there was a hint of French. “I’m Rebecca,” she introduced, holding out her hand.

Steve took it, grazing lips to the backs of her scandalously bare fingers. He let it go, and she placed it on his shoulder rather than back in her own lap. Steve gulped. Now he felt less like a breadcrumb and more like a worm on a hook. “I … I’m only just arrived,” he rasped, feeling the need to excuse his antisocial behavior. “Not staying long. I was about to go to my, um, room—to sleep, that is! Go to my room to sleep.” He coughed. “I, erm, have some business in the morning.” 

Rebecca tilted her head, eyes glittering. “Don’t we all. But you must tell me your name, Sir. I’d remember if I’d seen someone who looks like you at the Royal Naval before.” She touched her finger to her chin, as if putting great effort into guessing. “Mm. You’re American?”

Steve hemmed, overly conscious of where she was still touching his shoulder. Never in his life had he experienced such forward attentions from a woman, not even from Miss Barclay and her mother. “Um, yes,” he bumbled. “American. I’m … am.” She giggled at him and Steve shook his head. “I’m not planning on making any public announcements about that, you know. I don’t want trouble. I'm only here because I’ve inherited land.” An American veteran in British territory, not even two full years since the war? Yes, discretion would be prudent. “I’m Steven Rogers,” he hastily added, realizing that he hadn’t returned the introduction. “Of New York.”

“Steven,” she cooed. “Oh, how lovely. Steven from New York. May I call you Steve?”

“Um,”

Her lashes lowered demurely. “I’m Rebecca. Rebecca Beauchêne Proctor-Polgreen.” 

“That's a mouthful.”

She laughed and winked. “Oh, I don’t mind a mouthful.”

Steve felt his cheeks flame at the double entendre. He cleared his throat and looked down at his lap. Her hand was still on his shoulder, and he hadn’t a clue as to how he should politely inform her that he had no intention of paying for her services. Suddenly, he thought of how M'baku had phrased his question earlier: if Steve would like to stay in a place where he could find “company.”

Oh. Steve realized that he was an utter dolt. “Um, well. I appreciate your welcome, Miss, um …” 

“Just Rebecca,” she teased.

“Right. Miss Rebecca. You’ve been most kind, but my travels have left me tired and I wasn’t particularly seeking the … the company of a lady this evening.” He waited, and sure enough, her hand was soon removed from his shoulder. He nearly sagged in relief.

“Oh,” Rebecca said. “Oh yes, well you wouldn’t know, being new to town and all. I ought to have said. I serve in a managerial capacity here, Steve.” She grinned. “I take care of the girls, you understand? I’m afraid it is the rare gentleman whom I invite up to my private quarters, these days.” As Steve’s face continued to reach new levels of heat, she stood again and went to take his empty glass from the table. “A welcome is all I had on offer for you, handsome as you are. That, and any of my flock whom you might fancy.” Her eyes skimmed brazenly up and down Steve’s form. “I daresay they’ll fight each other for a chance at you.”

“Pardon,” Steve spluttered. “I shouldn’t have assumed.” He could see it now: how much more expensive her dress was than the other girls’, how fine the combs in her hair, the gold dangling from her ears. “Madam,” he said, “You have my apologies, please.” She waved him off, obviously unoffended and perhaps even amused. Steve realized that he was wasting his good manners, blundering and blushing the way he was.

Rebecca gestured at him with his empty cup in hand. “Don’t stress, Steve from New York. You’re on Caribbean time now. ‘Eaze and breeze’.” Her voice picked up the lilt of the island accent there at the end, and she sauntered back across the parlor to hand Steve’s glass over to the barkeep to be refilled. 

Steve felt glued in place until she returned with yet another helping of rum, which he was sure he didn’t need. “Thank you,” he managed, sipping it only to be polite. Between his previous three rounds and the thinly-veiled obscenity of the atmosphere, he felt drunk already. Luckily, Miss Rebecca seemed to understand his discomfort and soon left him alone, though not without giving him one last wink and a pointed nod in the direction of her company of girls. 

Steve wilted, watching as she went about that parlor and the next, stopping to chat with different groups of gentlemen—some with girls in their laps, and some without—never staying in one place for long. Steve felt foolish for not having realized her as the madame that she clearly was. It was so obvious now, as he watched her in the dance of the room and its ladies. She was the prima ballerina in a sea of coryphées.

After some time had passed, Steve felt himself quite literally falling asleep in his chair. Dear lord, he needed to go to bed. He abandoned his cup and stood, heading back out towards the main lobby. Tomorrow would be a productive day, he resolved as he went up to his room. He could start on what he’d come out here to do in the first place, not sit around bawdyhouse parlors making a fool of himself. 

He’d just turned at the top of the stair when he caught sight of Rebecca again. It was dark and she didn’t see him, facing the other way. But the gentleman with her did. It was that same man with whom she’d been speaking before, downstairs when Steve first arrived with M'baku. 

Steve gulped and stood very still, not wanting to be noticed and drawn into conversation. The man seemed to know this, as he smirked secretively in Steve’s direction but continued on in his murmured conversation with Rebecca. The two of them stood just outside one of the doors of the long upstairs hallway, and Steve pressed himself back against the wall in an attempt to be unobtrusive.

If the fellow was going to pay to spend the night with her, why didn’t he just get on with it already? They remained there speaking for long enough that Steve had ample time to appreciate the man’s features all over again. He was as tall as Steve, which was in itself uncommon, with a straight nose and shapely lips, not to mention a strong, unshaven jaw that all but had Steve’s mouth watering in a way that he was loath to admit. He held his breath as he was shot another leer from over Rebecca’s shoulder. If Steve didn’t know any better, he’dve said the man seemed almost amused at him.

The man bent to kiss Rebecca on her cheek. He took her hand and opened the door to the room, leading her through before himself. And when he turned to close it from the other side, he paused and stared long enough to make Steve’s blood stir, before shutting himself away behind the wood. 

Steve was left feeling unsettled, and not sure that he’d entirely imagined the heated look in the other man’s eye. This fellow, he surmised, must be one of the ‘rare gentlemen’ who merited invitation into Miss Rebecca’s private quarters.

Steve put himself to bed hastily that night, aroused and frustrated as to the cause of it. And despite his long-held resolve to never touch himself to the thought of another man, he was soon reminded that even he couldn’t control what things crept into his dreams.

Story Masterlist

Masterlist

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This has been a fill for @steverogersbingo, card SB3088 "stark contrast," square A1: pre war era

[legends-of-time]

Strength of a High and Noble Hill (Outlander Story) - Masterlist

Timelines:

19th and 20th Centuries

17th and 18th Centuries

Fraser Descendants (family tree)

Warnings:

Major Character Death, Minor Character Death, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Sexism, Period-Typical Racism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, unhealthy relationships

Summary:

May 1744

He wriggles his toes, feeling his environment. He quickly realises how much his surroundings are constricted, his legs are tightly bound and he is being cradled in someone’s arms. He opens his eyes and sees a woman leaning over him and realises she must be the one holding them. She’s humming softly with a warm and happy smile. He can see that her skin is clammy and there are bruises under her eyes, the eyes that are amber, golden-brown as well as smoky topaz, but that doesn’t dim her smile as she gazes upon the person in her arms. She’s white and her brown hair surrounds her face in messy curls.

——

What if Claire and Jamie’s first baby survived and what if it had been a boy. How will the story change?

Chapters:

Chapter 1: Birth

Chapter 2: First Months

Chapter 3: Peaceful Family Life Disrupted

Chapter 4: Goodbyes

Chapter 5: New Beginnings

Chapter 6: A Fish Out of Water

Chapter 7: Conflict

Chapter 8: Sister

Chapter 9: Returning

Chapter 10: The Truth

Chapter 11: The Loss of Hope

Chapter 12: Coping with Change

Chapter 13: Finding Him

Chapter 14: Moving to the Past

Chapter 15: Loss

Chapter 16: Lost Family

Chapter 17: A New but Old World

Chapter 18: Reunited at Last

Chapter 19: Big Brother

Chapter 20: Coming Together

Chapter 21: Fathers

Chapter 22: Dreams

Chapter 23: Fathers and Their Archaic Ways

Chapter 24: River Run

Chapter 25: A New but Old Face

Chapter 26: Caught in the Act

Chapter 27: Family Time

Chapter 28: New Beginnings

Chapter 29: Waiting

Chapter 30: Old Dreams

Chapter 31: Inferiority Complex

Chapter 32: Community Swelling

Chapter 33: Purpose

Chapter 34: First Sight

Chapter 35: Is it Happily Ever After?

Chapter 36: Gifts and Awkward Conversations

Chapter 37: Unravels

Chapter 38: Lay Up Trouble For Yourself

Chapter 39: War Wins Land, Peace Wins People

Chapter 40: Life Goes On But The Threat Looms

Chapter 41: Building Arsenal

Chapter 42: Romeo and Juliet

Chapter 43: Baggage Weighs You Down

Chapter 44: Misunderstandings

Chapter 45: Should auld acquaintance be forgot?

Chapter 46: Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ

Chapter 47: Best Not To Tell

Chapter 48: Putting a Reluctant Ring on it 

Chapter 49: Unrequited

Chapter 50: Death and Rebirth

Chapter 51: Caught With Your Pants Down

Chapter 52: A Confession, a Warning and a Truce

Chapter 53: Snuffing Out the Messenger Bird

Wattpad access

fanfiction.net access

Ao3 access

[canonskyrissian]

starting to figure out the skyrissian regency au like

[goldenavenger02]

what if the way you hold me, is actually what's holy?

But he bit his tongue; he knew better, although he and Sokka had been together for five years, it was still too dangerous for both of them to be themselves in the Fire Nation until he was able to get the law overturned.

Part 1: why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?

"We have a new plan, but it will need a big distraction. Be in the courtyard in one hour."

"Wait, UGH, Sokka," Zuko spoke in between whispers, dropping the pillow to grab onto the metal armor covering his wrist "Be careful."

Sokka paused for a minute, blinking in silence, but before either of them could say anything, before Zuko could confess about what had been building up inside of him since they arrived at The Boiling Rock, the door clicked and he found himself bound tightly in a headlock.

As he was ushered away by the guards, dreading just what the Warden had planned for him, the mild strain on his neck where Sokka had grabbed him was mild compared to the lovesick pangs in his chest.

…

Zuko found himself huddled on the metal floor of the airship, his knees pulled to his chest, despite the ache in his chest from the pressure, as he processed their escape.

They had made it out because of Mai. He had left Mai in one of the worst ways possible and she still saved their lives. She had chosen him over Azula, and yet, he knew that he could never choose her over his newfound friends.

"You okay?"

He looked up to see Sokka's blue eyes full of concern, helmet discarded but still in the Boiling Rock uniform with a blanket draped over his wrist.

Zuko looked down at his crossed arms and shrugged, "Just thinking."

Sokka paused for a minute, and if he hadn't been able to see his boots, Zuko would have thought he had left the room to let him sit in silence before he let out an awkward cough.

"Anyway, I brought you a blanket, figured you're still cold from the freezer and all."

Zuko looked back up at him; in the chaos of the fight, wrapped tightly in the feeling of Sokka's warm arm clasped tightly around his and pulling him into the trolly, he had forgotten about the hours he had spent in the freezer even though it was the explanation behind the chill that had found itself deep inside of his bones.

"Thanks."

He reached for it, only to raise an eyebrow when Sokka took a step backward to evade his fingertips grasping onto it.

"I told Suki about what you said the Warden said about being his "special prisoner", and she told me that if I didn't make sure you weren't injured, she'd kick my ass."

"I'm not-"

"Zuko, please."

The concern in his ocean-blue eyes was enough for him to relent and pull his knees away from his chest before slowly taking off the paper-thin uniform shirt; it was just bruised ribs, but the gasp that Sokka let out sounded as if it was a fatal stab wound.

Every breath he took in between the gasp and the words made him feel sick to his stomach with guilt; he had been able to fight against countless enemies just a year ago and now he was unable to retaliate even though it felt as though the only person it was hurting was Sokka.

"You were telling me to be careful?" He finally spoke around what sounded like tears as he crouched down beside him, the blanket forgotten as his hand extended toward his chest.

Zuko squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, waiting for the pain to hit him as he clenched his hand in a fist against the metal floor, but instead, he heard a shift that had him turning back to Sokka's face of concern.

"Are you okay with me checking?"

"What?"

"I…I think they're just bruised, but I'm not as good at this stuff as…well, as anyone on this airship, so I need to touch your chest, to make sure they aren't broken," Sokka explained as his hand nervously went to the back of his neck, "but if you want someone else to-"

"No," Zuko cut him off, wincing when his voice sounded strangled, "you need to do it."

"Are you sure? I can get Suki or-"

"Sokka. I trust you."

He was met with the same blank stare that he had received in his cell, the same look that made him want to curl onto himself and wonder why he had spoken, unable to admit to what had been building up inside of him.

But Sokka shook it off once again and extended his hand again, gently resting his fingertips on Zuko's chest; but the sting he had been expecting never came.

The only thing he could feel was the heat in his cheeks starting to thaw the deep-seated cold in his bones.

…

Zuko was silent as he packed his things.

He and Katara had to get moving if they had a chance to stop Azula but for a brief moment, he regretted not asking Sokka.

But he knew that between how flustered he had gotten after walking into his tent the month before, how it made it impossible for him to hold extended eye contact even now without thinking about how good he looked with his hair down.

Not to mention that strong bending, the bending he had seen Katara display, was needed for him to stand a chance.

And then there was Suki; she had saved his life even though he burned down her village and the way he was repaying her was tripping over his own two feet every time Sokka got too close.

Plus the whole Fire Lord thing; even if he was successful, there was a long road awaiting him when he took his place on the throne, a hundred years of war that he had to untangle his nation out of.

The war would be ending for the other nations, but it felt like it was only beginning for the Fire Nation.

"Hey, Zuko?"

Zuko turned to see Sokka standing behind him, just inside the tent flap; he still couldn't look him in the eyes, only able to think of shame and loose hair and jealousy of his girlfriend and a defined collarbone that wasn't meant for him to see.

"Katara and I need to get to the Fire Nation."

"I know, but I need to tell you something impor-"

"I'll keep Katara safe, I promise," he insisted as he wrapped the handle of his satchel over his shoulder and started to walk out, only to feel Sokka grab his wrist to stop him, "what?"

"Just…" Zuko so desperately wanted him to say "Suki and I broke up", he longed for him to reciprocate the feelings he had been feeling for months, but Sokka's hesitation only ended with, "Be careful."

"I will be," he lied, knowing he was going to be as reckless as needed to stop his sister, but still added a "same to you" that he knew Sokka would treat like a promise he swore to keep.

Zuko waited for Sokka's fingers to release his wrist and after climbing aboard Appa and saying goodbye to his uncle, he waited for Sokka to leave first, unable to bring himself to flick the reins without having some idea of what way he, along with Suki and Toph, were going.

…

Knowing that he had won, that Katara was safe thanks to the hit he had taken, didn't do much of anything to quell the agonizing pain radiating from the center of his body.

Despite the burning that made his stomach feel sick, he managed to open his eyes only to be greeted with the harsh onslaught of sunlight.

"Zuko?"

He so desperately wanted to fall back into unconsciousness where there was nothing except peace, but the voice wasn't Katara trying to wake him up to try and soothe the pain again.

Despite the relation, he knew that the ocean blue eyes that looked down at him were not those that belonged to Katara, but her older brother who gently grasped his wrist with what sounded like tears interspersed with his relieved laugh.

"I told you to be careful."

Zuko was filled with questions coming to him despite how foggy he felt, things like "Did we win?" and "Is everyone okay?" but he looked at just how Sokka was hovering over him and managed to speak despite his voice coming out strained.

"Are you in my bed?"

He got an actual laugh that time, the kind that had Sokka rubbing a hand over his face before an explanation finally left his soft lips.

"Katara went to get some rest, she asked me to watch over you," Zuko caught the wince that briefly covered Sokka's face as he adjusted on the mattress and found himself moving to sit up, only for a spike to turn his vision white while hands gently pushed him back down, "easy, I'm fine."

"Liar." Zuko managed to spit out despite fighting his hardest not to fall unconscious again.

"It's a broken leg, I just need to be more careful when I move, unlike someone who might as well still be sparking."

Zuko focused on pulling in deep breaths to let the pain eb away as Sokka laced his fingers around his and continued to speak.

"Toph, Suki, and I took down the entire air fleet and picked up Aang on the way back, but you were in really bad shape when we got here."

"I was gonna ask you," Zuko swallowed, trying to use his salvia to soothe his throat to no avail, "to help me stop Azula."

"You were?"

"At first, but I…" Zuko pulled his eyes away, he couldn't do this to Suki, he didn't want to hurt anyone else even if it cost his own happiness, "I made the right call, I think."

"Yeah, despite my combat skills being on point," Sokka joked as he flexed for a brief minute, "when it comes to keeping people alive, Katara's the best bet. That, and helping build the airships meant I knew how to dismantle them too."

"So, what's your plan?" Zuko asked, finally pulling himself together enough to look back into Sokka's eyes only to get a raised eyebrow of confusion in return, "are you gonna go back home?"

"For a little while, yes, but I don't think I'm gonna stay there, at least for now. I have…other priorities."

"Other priorities?"

"Making sure you don't climb walls again before Katara clears you."

"Do you two think I'm that irresponsible?"

"No, but there's this fancy pants rich guy who wants to bring in an "era of peace" with the Avatar and you being alive really helps the cause."

Zuko couldn't help but laugh despite the renewed sting in his chest, but it died on his lips when he had to remind himself that Sokka wasn't his.

All that did was bring back the lovesick pangs that he had started feeling back on the Boiling Rock.

"Is Suki okay with this?" He found himself asking before he could stop himself, wishing he could have taken it back and not be met with that Agni-damned stare that always made Sokka look even cuter than he already was-

"Suki and I aren't dating anymore."

Oh.

OH.

At that moment, Zuko concluded that he was an idiot.

"She and I had different priorities. She has to rebuild her village and run things while the other warriors recover from prison, meanwhile I," Sokka paused and brushed some of Zuko's loose hair from his forehead, "have to talk to fancy pants rich guy and ask him a very, VERY important question."

Zuko was an idiot, but he wasn't that much of an idiot; he knew that he was the so-called "fancy pants rich guy" and turned his head to look Sokka in the eyes, trying not to choke out his raspy response that came in the form of, "I'm listening."

"Can I kiss you?"

Zuko concluded that he was the biggest idiot in all of the Fire Nation.

His heart pounded in his chest while he managed to nod; in response, two soft, gentle fingers found their way under his jaw and tipped his lips against the ones that tasted like sea salt.

…

Zuko felt as though his head was going to explode.

He knew that was dramatic, that even if he had been faking the migraine three weeks ago that had gotten him out of talking to the Fire Sages, this one was very real and probably a punishment from some spirit that was angry at him for dismissing the sages.

In the first few years of being Fire Lord, he had Sokka, Suki, and Mai on his side, pushing back against this conversation until he turned twenty-one; but his twenty-first birthday had come and gone, Suki no longer was constantly needed in the Fire Nation to keep his security in check now that Tao had been promoted to the head guard and Mai…

Well, he hadn't seen his ex-girlfriend in years, but he assumed that she was either still with Kei Lo in the Fire Nation or had finally been able to confess her feelings to Ty Lee in the solace of Kyoshi Island.

As for Sokka, he had left once the two of them had been cleared for normal activity, only to come back six months later with the title of "head of trade operations" and no sign of leaving the Fire Nation.

At this moment, while he was being forced to endure the conversation that he always knew was coming to impose on his and Sokka's relationship, he assumed that his boyfriend was in one of three places; a meeting of his own, the kitchen, or in his study.

"Fire Lord, you understand the importance of securing an heir and yet, there is no sign of a Fire Lady."

'If you just let me repeal the law on homosexual relationships, then you'd understand the lack of a Fire Lady.' He thought to himself between the throbs in his head.

But he bit his tongue; he knew better, although he and Sokka had been together for five years, it was still too dangerous for both of them to be themselves in the Fire Nation until he was able to get the law overturned.

At this moment, he'd rather be in the South Pole, where they preferred to keep this stuff to themselves but he wouldn't be risking Sokka's life by holding his hand.

Instead, he had to straighten up and explain himself with a lie, "I refuse to have an arranged marriage, and until I find a partner that I am compatible with, I will continue to be unable to secure an heir."

"What about Mai?"

"Mai and I no longer have feelings for each other."

Zuko didn't have to lie about that.

Though their brief reunion after the war had been only platonic, she had agreed to pretend to be his girlfriend and even have his heir if necessary until he could get the law repealed, resulting in the two of them indulging the other one's fantasies about public lives with Sokka and Ty Lee into the late hours of the night.

And then he had fucked it up; he had slipped with Yu Dao, he had gotten so desperate that he had gone to Ozai for advice, and as a result, he had lost one of his best friends and nearly started another war.

Sokka had forgiven him over and over again, and so had the rest of the group that had taken him in when he had given them no reason to do so, but he knew that there was a very real chance that despite coming back to help him save her brother and his sister, he would never see Mai again.

"Would you like us to make you a list of potential options, Fire Lord?"

'So Sokka and I can look through every single one and laugh at how stupid it is that you still won't let me, the ruler of the Fire Nation, decriminalize our relationship?'

"It will not be an arranged relationship," Zuko insisted, knowing that this was the matter that he would dig his heels in and fight on so he could put off marriage until it was with his boyfriend, "if I deem your options acceptable, then I will personally meet with the women and see if there is any sort of connection."

"Very well."

"You are dismissed." Zuko insisted, waiting until the group of sages had made their way out of the throne room before allowing himself to slouch with the bridge of his nose pinched in between his fingers to try and force the headache away.

Until he heard a voice comment, "I'd thought they'd never quit," that had Zuko sitting straight up, only letting his spine relax when he saw Tao's signature light-hearted smile that reminded him all too much of Lu Ten, "do you have any more meetings that cannot be delayed?"

But Zuko already knew what his head guard was asking and what he was risking every time he offered to help him out, to which he would always be grateful; with arguably the least graceful push onto his feet, he found himself eye to eye with the man as he commanded, "take me to my boyfriend, Tao."

He was met with a familiar grin followed by, "As you wish, Fire Lord", which had become the words that allowed Zuko to follow behind him as they traversed the confines of the palace all while he was seeking out his boyfriend like a lovesick deer dog.

Sure enough, Tao stopped just outside of the kitchen to keep watch, but Zuko's stride never broke as he opened the door to see Sokka with an elbow propped on the counter and his other hand as a vessel to hold onto the apple he was taking large bites out of.

They had been dating for five years, but as Sokka wiped a couple of drops of apple juice away from his mouth with his wrist, oblivious to his presence, Zuko found himself falling back in love all over again.

He didn't stop himself from walking over and wrapping his arms around his chest and pressing his face against his neck, taking in the comforting scent of the ocean that had never fully faded and allowing it to slowly work wonders on the pulsating migraine.

"Meetings with the Fire Sages are the worst," he finally muttered when he felt Sokka's fingertips reach over and start gently massaging his throbbing scalp, "they're worried about a Fire Lady."

"Well, I don't mean to brag, but I can rock that Kyoshi Warrior skirt; want me to try on some regalia, see if I can pull it off?"

"They're worried about the lack of an heir."

"Oh," Sokka went silent for one, two and then let out a sigh all while his fingers stayed gently tangled in his black hair, "My ability to do that is, well, non-existent. Sorry, babe."

"It's okay."

Sokka stayed silent for a few beats even though the two of them were painfully aware that it was all but okay.

"Do you want to go to our room? Let off some steam?"

"Yes," Zuko nodded against his shoulder before finally lifting his head, "please."

Sokka spun in response, grabbing his hand as the two of them made their way to the room with Tao following in a strong stride behind them, but that didn't matter to Zuko.

All that mattered to him was his boyfriend's warm hands on his hips as they held each other in their arms while his golden eyes gazed into the ocean-blue ones that belonged to the love of his life.

Part 2: throwing my life to the wolves

"So, what are we gonna do?"

Zuko was dreading the gentle but concerned look he had been expecting ever since he rested his forehead on Sokka's shoulder in the kitchen, but as he lay in his bed and the adrenaline had left him with the last of the stress-caused migraine, it was all he could see.

"I don't know," he admitted as he sat up and used his hand to brush away the strands that were sticky with sweat from his forehead, "the sages have been very clear about me getting married before getting that law repelled since it's "not urgent at this time" and I know, I know that I should be focused on Cranefish Town, and continuing to pull our economy out of our military, but…"

Zuko swallowed the sob that he hadn't realized had been building up inside his chest, but before he could raise his wrist to wipe his face, he felt Sokka's gentle, calloused hands reach up and brush away the tears with his thumb.

"I'm sor-"

"Please don't apologize for wanting something good for yourself, Zuko," Sokka cut him off with a soft plea, "you've done so much for the Fire Nation, you can be selfish this one time."

"I want all of my people to be able to marry who they want," he said after pulling in a shaking breath to slow the few tears that seemed determined to leak from his eyes, stopping his words to gently pull Sokka's right hand from his scarred cheek in order to intertwine their fingers together, "but, I would be lying if I said that it wasn't also for us."

Sokka nodded, keeping his fingers interlaced together for a few minutes before he stiffened, a tell-tale sign that the gears in his mind were working on some genius but also flutter-batshit crazy idea.

"What?"

"What about Mai?"

Zuko couldn't stop himself from letting out a scoff of disbelief, "Good luck finding her and if you do find her, well, I hope your knife-dodging skills have gotten a lot better."

"Ouch."

"Need I remind you how much she hates my guts, and rightfully so?"

"Just for a little while, until they let you overturn the law," Sokka explained himself, his insistent hand movements clearly trying to quell any anger that might bubble over, "but you two had that promise to each other, to use the other one to save face. If this works and it gets the law repelled, then it works out for us and her and Ty Lee."

Even though his words confirmed that his boyfriend was still in some consistent contact with Suki about the happenings on Kyoshi Island, Zuko couldn't help but find himself starting to agree with the idea already in his mind.

'It would get the sages off of my back about the heir thing long enough to finally send that law into the ground where it deserves to be.'

"And you're okay with this? Mai and I pretending to be together?"

"Only if you're okay with it," Sokka insisted, pressing his lips against the side of Zuko's head, "unless you know of someone else who we could convince to do it and who the Fire Nation would approve of since you know, the good press will really help your case."

For a split second, Zuko was reminded of a customer in Ba Sing Se with kind eyes who was still a regular at his uncle's tea shop, if his letters were anything to go by, but he couldn't break her heart again.

"Alright, we'll go after Mai," he finally agreed out loud which earned another very tight hug that left him with his face pressed against Sokka's bare collarbone, "but you should probably send Hawky ahead of us so Suki doesn't beat us up on arrival."

…

Getting the approval to leave the Fire Nation with just Sokka hadn't been that hard to get past his advisors; Zuko would be lying if he said he hadn't used the words "potential match" to do so, but it had worked how he had needed it to.

But as he packed his things, he should have guessed that the knock on his door wasn't coming from Sokka making his way in for the night when he said, "You may enter."

Tao didn't even bow before he shut the door and demanded, "With all due respect, Zuko, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"That is no way to speak to your Fire Lord."

"Cut the shit, you know how dangerous it is for you to leave the Fire Nation with no guards."

"Sokka and I are perfectly capable-"

"That is not what I am saying and you know that. I am fully aware that two of the people who helped end the hundred-year war are capable of taking a quick trip to Kyoshi Island," Tao cut him off, effectively getting him to stop folding his clothes, "what I am worried about is an ambush."

"Is there reason to believe that there will be an ambush that you failed to inform me of previously?"

"No, but I know you," Tao rubbed a hand over his face, "I know for a damn fact that if a weapon is pointed at anyone, especially Sokka, the person in the most danger is the Fire Lord with self-sacrificial tendencies."

Zuko didn't have a response to that, and maybe it was because he knew that Tao was right; the thought of Sokka, an expert sword fighter in his own right, being on the business end of an enemy weapon, was enough to make him feel sick to his stomach. It wasn't irrational for Tao to think that he would make an impulsive decision and put himself in front of said weapon.

"What point are you trying to make?" Zuko asked after a couple of silent breaths passed between the two of them.

"Take me with you, as an extra layer of protection."

"You're alright with Sokka and I doing what we please?"

"Like I haven't been helping you do that for the last five years, Fire Lord," Tao responded with his signature smirk that brought some levity to the air after their intense back and forth and allowed Zuko to take a breath before Tao left to stand guard outside of the bedroom door.

His packing efforts slowed as the realization hit him that Tao tagging along would take away from the plans that he had made with Sokka in the night with breathless hopes between kisses.

They hadn't been together the last time they had been to Kyoshi Island, they hadn't even been friends, and even though the two of them had made their separate visits in the years since, they still hadn't gotten to experience the journey as a couple.

Although the head of his royal guard had helped them be together without the entirety of his council knowing for five years, that didn't mean that he wanted a third wheel as they traveled.

And when Sokka made it into bed long after Zuko had snuffed out the candles, with his arms wrapped gently around his waist and his nose nestled gently against the left side of his neck, he knew that he was being read like an open book when Sokka asked, "you okay?"

"Tao's coming with us tomorrow," Zuko said, expecting the same disappointment he was currently feeling, "he's worried about an ambush."

"Makes sense. Are you okay with that?"

"I'm trying to be," Zuko sighed, waiting for him to lift his face from his neck before turning to look into his blue eyes, "just wanted it to be me and you."

"So did I," he paused to intertwine their fingers together, "but I also want you to be safe and if taking Tao is the way to do it, I'm on board."

Zuko couldn't help but smile as he reached his free hand up and rested it just under Sokka's ear, his loose hair getting caught around his thumb for a brief moment, "have I mentioned how much I love you?"

"You could always bring it up again, you know. I don't mean to brag, but I have been told many times that I'm a catc-"

He cut his boyfriend's rambles off by pulling him in by the shirt and pressing his lips against his with a fervency that he hadn't been able to feel through the looming stress of the last few days.

Part 3: am i mad, or bad, or wise?

All Zuko wanted was a glass of water.

He awoke, tangled in sheets and Sokka's arms, with a dry throat and sleep in his eyes that wanted to pull him back into the quiet peace he wasn't accustomed to.

But his thirst demanded to be quenched, forcing him to maneuver around his snoring boyfriend's arms and out of the sheets, only stopping to pull his robe around his waist before exiting toward the kitchen.

The persistent exhaustion he had been feeling for days was the blame for being pulled into the hallway with one hand grabbing his arms tightly and the other one putting a blade to his throat before he even had the chance to make a noise.

"I knew knocking out the guards was the right move," the figure chuckled, pressing harder and harder against the base of his throat, "any last words, ashmaker?"

Zuko swallowed hard against the knife, squeezed his eyes shut, and let his palms burst into flames, using the scream of pain to slip out of the perpetrator's hold.

"You'll pay for that, you bastard!"

The knife shone in the moonlight, jabbing towards him with a wild swing toward his gut that he managed to dodge despite the speed at which it moved.

He shot another flame-filled blast, but the hooded figure was just as fast as he was and dodged it with ease despite the burns on their erratic hands.

Zuko dodged another swing, this one towards the base of the throat, unable to stop himself from thinking 'Where is Tao when you need him?' even though he was painfully aware that the answer was unconscious.

The boomerang made contact with the assailant's head one second after the blade ripped through the expensive fabric and into the skin of his left shoulder, forcing Zuko to his knees with the ferocity of the swing.

"Zuko, did- shit, that's a lot of-!"

His hand instinctively went up, only to pull it back with a wince as the red on his fingers made Sokka's face blur above him with hands gripping tightly onto him and a mouth moving but no words could be heard over the ringing that filled his ears.

Sokka was there; despite the black dots building in his vision, Sokka was there. Zuko couldn't help thinking 'thank Agni' before succumbing to the darkness.

…

"I meant you no disrespect. I am your loyal son."

"Rise and fight, Prince Zuko."

"I won't fight you."

"You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher."

Zuko's breath felt a million miles away as he lifted his hand to his face, expecting to only feel fire and be met with the sickening smell of burnt flesh; he ignored the faraway call of his name, his fingers desperately pressing against the scar.

The scar; the rough, reddish patch of skin that was a permanent part of him, but simultaneously assured him that he was no longer burning.

"Zuko, it's okay," a hand on his wrist, gently pulling his left hand away from his face, the movement sending a sharp pain from his shoulder that had him biting the inside of his cheek for a brief moment until it passed, "it's over."

It wasn't until he carefully turned his head and looked into the shiny, concerned eyes that belonged to Sokka, who was now holding his left hand with both of his, that he was reminded of the events that had led him to lying in the infirmary.

"I knew knocking out your guards was the right move."

"S-Sokka, the guards," he managed to choke out, trying to push himself to sit up to no avail with how tightly his hand was being held, "are they-?"

"You got the worst of it," Sokka cut him off, resting his head against Zuko's hand with a long, shaking breath before looking back up with fresh tears starting to pool in his eyes, "if I hadn't grabbed my boomerang when I got up to check on you-"

"I never thought I'd be so thankful for the boomerang that has nearly knocked my teeth out multiple times."

His attempt at a joke stunned Sokka into a confused silence for a few seconds before he pressed his forehead against Zuko's hand again, this time while pulling in a sniffle that sounded like an attempt to stop crying.

"You scared the shit out of me, you know that?"

"I had a guess."

Sokka pressed a kiss to Zuko's hand before letting it rest on the mattress and wiping his face on his arm, "I'll be back in a bit, okay?"

"Where are you going?"

"The guy under Tao, I think his name is Kaito, he wasn't on duty last night so he's taking over till Tao's back to work," Sokka explained, and Zuko could feel his stomach drop at the mention of the injuries attained by the one guard who had the balls to make sure that Zuko was safe even if it meant going against Zuko's own judgment, "he's interrogating the person who did this and asked for my help."

"Are you gonna beat him up for me?" Zuko couldn't help but joke, desperately trying to break through the thick air of tension in the room with a laugh from his boyfriend.

Sokka responded with an eye roll followed by a quick kiss on the lips that tasted too much like tears for Zuko to melt into it, "get some rest, babe."

Zuko struggled to fall asleep with the guilt for making Sokka cry starting to build in his stomach as he lay alone in the quiet infirmary, unable to keep the thought of 'maybe it's better this way' from clawing into his mind.

…

"-and that's when Kaito realized that he was pissed about the colonies and was mad that King Kuei didn't go through with kicking out everyone of Fire Nation descent."

"The assassin was an Earth bender?" Zuko raised an eyebrow of confusion, knowing that a bender trying to assassinate him was more than likely going to use that skill to their advantage, but relaxed when Sokka shook his head.

"Nope. Earth Kingdom descent, but a non-bender," Sokka clarified before slurping up his noodles, "anyway, Kaito thinks that the injuries and the fact he admitted to it means that he isn't getting out of prison."

"It's just one more failed assassin," he couldn't stop himself from voicing his thoughts, watching as Sokka's smile slowly faded with every word, "there's always more, you know. Someone who's mad at me, or mad at my father, or mad at me for not being like my father-"

"Hey," he was cut off by Sokka setting down the nearly empty bowl by his feet and reaching over to gently grasp his right hand, "I, for one, am so, so glad you did not end up like that flaming piece of ostrich-horse shit."

"You were also glad when I cut my hair even though it meant that I was a fugitive of the Fire Nation."

"And I was right about that, you look so much better now," Zuko couldn't help but look down at his hands and the fading marks that almost every young firebender got when they first wielded their flames while Sokka continued to speak, "but my point is that you are doing the right thing and even though it sucks right now, everything is going to be a lot better for everyone because of what you are doing."

"But what about you?" Sokka stilled against Zuko's hand, forcing him to meet bright blue eyes as he elaborated, "Sokka, my presence is putting you in danger; our relationship aside, your association with me could have gotten you killed-"

"The only reason you aren't dead is because I was here," Sokka cut him off with a snappiness in his tone that stunned him into silence, "if I hadn't gotten up when I did, you would be dead and…" a shudder filled his tone, "Zuko, I cannot lose you too. Okay? If you don't love me anymore, that's different, but I cannot lose you. I cannot lose you like I lost Yue."

"Shit," Zuko swallowed, wiping his own tears on his hand before reaching for Sokka's angry, sorrow-filled tears to brush them from his cheeks, "That's not what I meant. Sokka, I love you so much to the point where I was willing to pretend to date my ex so we could get married one day, and considering Mai is more likely to threaten to slit my throat the next time she sees me, that's saying something."

"Too soon." Sokka shuddered, bringing his attention to the sting against the base of his neck for a brief moment.

"I just don't want you to get hurt because of me."

"I know, and I love that you care so much," Sokka sniffled back the last of his tears as he interlocked their fingers, "but with all due respect, fancy-pants rich guy, unless you have an actual reason to break up with me instead of just trying to push me away because you're scared of other people, you are stuck with me."

"I know."

"No, I'm serious. Boyfriend or not, I'm still your head of trade operations."

Zuko couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief that his effort to push Sokka away had failed before quickly scanning the room for people who would give away his secrets at the first sign of trouble; and when the only witness was the royal healer who had previously told Zuko that her one concern was that he didn't rip any stitches and prolong his recovery, he didn't hesitate to lean forward and press his lips to Sokka's.

And when Sokka gently pressed on the back of his head to bring him closer, he had no choice but to surrender to his will.

Part 4: this cage was once just fine

"Zuko?"

Zuko turned his head to look at Sokka, not wanting to turn onto his still sore shoulder; it had been a few days since he first woke up in the infirmary but despite the around the clock doses of pain relief and now being in his own room again, the stitches in his shoulder and his neck were still sore and wouldn't be coming out for another week.

"Yes?"

"As much as I have enjoyed blowing off my own job to be with you…" he trailed off, gently wrapping an arm around him and letting his hand rest just below the star-shaped scar that was embedded in his chest, "I really do need to get some work done today."

"Last I heard, the Fire Lord isn't up for firing his head of trade operations."

"Yeah, but I need to see if Hawky brought a response from Kyoshi Island about our rescheduling, and I need to get back to my dad about a fur trading thing. It should only be a couple of hours but-"

"Go do your job, Sokka," Zuko cut off his rambling with a quick kiss that made him wince from the angle of his neck, "almost all of the royal guards are patrolling the hall, I'm staying right here."

"Okay," Sokka agreed and rolled out of bed to put on his shirt, "good thing you put me in charge of overseeing emergency meetings, right?"

Zuko swallowed the sudden guilt of the lie he had Kaito tell the guards of why Sokka needed to be in his room emerging; even if it was for his and Sokka's safety, it still made his stomach twist with shame.

"I'll see you in a couple of hours, babe," Sokka insisted, leaning over to press a long kiss to the side of his head before tugging on his shoes and striding out of the room.

Regardless of the circumstances, Zuko couldn't help but smile at the confidence Sokka wielded in his newfound, temporary power; even if he was a little worried about an odd law he may propose, however, he knew deep down that if there was one person he trusted to run the Fire Nation how it deserved to be ran, it was Sokka.

With that in mind, Zuko chose not to focus too hard on it and utilize the rare time where he had zero expectations upon him to slowly pull himself to his feet, pull his robe around himself and carefully bring himself over to the bookcase filled with the scrolls and books that had belonged to his mother in order to pass the time till Sokka returned.

The hours he spent immersed in the fictional world passed quickly, but despite his enjoyment, he was instantly snapped out of it by the sound of the door opening without a knock.

Zuko immediately dropped the book and reached back, grabbing for swords that weren't there and only pulling roughly at the stitches but he kept his eyes open as the intruder strode in; the intruder wasn't an intruder at all, it was Sokka who rushed forward at the sound of pain escaping his lips with a hiss between his teeth.

"You okay?" He asked, guiding his arm to lead him to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he waved him away as he tried to blink the few tears away from his vision, "you didn't knock."

"Yeah, that's on me," Sokka apologized, a look of guilt quickly passing through his ocean-blue eyes before he cleared his throat, "are you up for a visitor?"

"I thought you were handling all of my emergencies."

"I am, but she was very insistent on having a private conversation with the Fire Lord only."

"I'm not sure private is a good idea," Zuko protested with a gesture to the bandage covering the neat row of stitches against his shoulder and near his neck, "or did you forget what happened the last time I was alone?"

"I know, but I trust her," Sokka insisted before turning toward the door, "you can come in."

Zuko wasn't sure who he was expecting to see emerge from the shadows of the hallway, but he knew that he hadn't been expecting the last person who he expected to set foot in the Fire Nation again to approach him with her signature neutral expression settled in her face.

"Hello, Fire Lord."

"Mai." His mouth was dry in an instant as he couldn't stop but wonder how he hadn't seen her in four years and how different the two of them had become but she still looked nearly the same as when she walked out of his life for the last time.

"I'll leave you two to talk." Sokka broke through the tense silence, only stopping to press a quick kiss to the side of Zuko's hair before striding out of the room with that same air of confidence he had been carrying for the last couple of days.

It was only when Sokka shut the door behind him that Mai said the four words that Zuko had been expecting since his boyfriend had mentioned the idea of going to Kyoshi Island.

"What the fuck, Zuko?"

"Mai, I can explain-"

"I am forever indebted to you for helping save Tom-Tom, but with all due respect, the last week has been incredibly odd," she stopped to run a hand over her face, "I walked out of the Fire Nation four years ago. I really didn't want to see you or Kei Lo ever again after everything that happened with Yu Dao and with Azula."

Zuko couldn't even blame her for her grudge, not when he had done the one thing she asked him not to do and shut her out; it didn't matter how much time had passed and how much they had grown, he had betrayed her trust.

"So I followed Ty Lee to Kyoshi Island. I figured that I could at least give the warriors some pointers on how to hide and use more weapons, but it was so freeing to be in a place where it was okay to say that I liked girls and when I finally gathered the courage to tell Ty Lee…"

The flush covering her pale cheeks confirmed it for Zuko, he had seen the same pale flush when they were fifteen and sixteen during his brief return to the Fire Nation and he knew fully well that it meant that Mai had feelings that she was unable to hide no matter how hard she tried.

"And then Suki got a letter announcing that you and Sokka would be arriving to Kyoshi Island for "business matters"," her air quotes made him cringe, her tone instantly replaced the light flush that faded just as quickly as it came on, "my father was a politician, Zuko. I know that "business matters" means that you can't talk about it on paper and with you and Sokka coming together, I highly doubt that the "business matters" had to do with money laundering."

"Mai-" he tried again, hoping that he could get her to listen, but when she cut him off again, her voice was thick with poorly concealed sobs, the same ones he had heard from Sokka just a couple of days before when Zuko awoke in the infirmary.

"And then we got a second letter that said "due to unforeseen circumstances, the Fire Lord will be rescheduling his visit". I also know that "unforeseen circumstances" means that something really bad has happened, so I came here to talk to Sokka," she stopped, letting out a long shudder, "it doesn't matter how mad I am at you, I do not want you dead."

Zuko kept his lips shut as she approached and sat down on the end of his bed, letting her rest her face in her hands for as long as she needed and letting the endless guilt claw in his stomach.

He hadn't seen Mai cry in years, not since she had snuck into the infirmary after his Agni Kai; even though his brief glimpses afterwards were shadowed by pain and fever, he would never be able to forget the look on her face as she tightly grasped his limp hand.

When she finally lifted her head and stood up, her tears had dried but her eyes stayed rimmed with red.

"I know why you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend and I admire the lengths that you are willing to go to for your people to have the freedom that I have on Kyoshi Island, but I can't do that to Ty Lee."

"I understand," Zuko nodded, knowing that this was an outcome he had been expecting ever since Sokka had suggested it, "but thank you, for taking the time to tell me in person."

"Thank you for understanding," Mai nodded as she took a few steps toward the door, only stopping when she wrapped her palm around the handle, "Zuko? The next time you meet with the Fire Sages, exercise a little bit of that power that you have been given. After all, the latest survey on homosexual relationships showed that sixty five percent of Fire Nation citizens were for its legalization."

And just as quickly as Mai had reentered his life, she was gone again.

But unlike the last time, he was not woven tightly in the harsh braid of despair; for the first time in a long time, he was already coming up with a plan that was nearly impossible not to execute perfectly.

Part 5: what if i roll the stone away? they're gonna crucify me anyway

Despite how confident he was in his plan as he sat at the head of the meeting room, Zuko still found his gut twisting with worry when met with the prospect of actually speaking the words he had been rehearsing in his head for weeks as he recovered.

But now that he was once again able to act as Fire Lord and the rest of the guards had recovered from the attempt on his life, he decided to take the advice Mai had given him and exercise his power as ruler of the Fire Nation.

It helped that Sokka was there; while it wasn't at his right hand side which was reserved for the spouse of the Fire Lord, he was still present; Zuko cleared his throat to gain the attention of the various nobles and Fire Sages that sat in the meeting room.

"Thank you, everyone, for attending this very important law making session. I, for one, am pleased to see that all of you could make it."

Various greetings and words of adoration became background noise as it hit his ears, all of his attention being pulled towards Sokka as he sat with a small smile that wouldn't be noticed by anyone except for him.

"This has to go well tomorrow." Zuko sighed as he rested his tense forehead against his palms while finally bringing him to sit at the foot of the bed next to Sokka, who instantly wrapped his arm around his ridgid shoulders.

"It will."

"And what if it doesn't?"

"Then we make a new plan and do it that way. Even if this doesn't work, we always figure it out."

"How are you so confident in this plan?" Zuko finally found himself looking up to gaze into the bright blue eyes he had grown accustomed to seeing full of worry now shining with assurance.

"Because I have confidence in you. After all, not every ruler can help end a hundred year war."

"A lot of them didn't want to end the war, they were profiting off of-"

"Last time I checked, I'm not dating any of those losers." Sokka cut him off with a massive grin, resulting in Zuko finally letting some of the tension ebb away as he turned in order to pull Sokka in and revel in the familiar taste of his lips.

"Our first order of business is a new amendment to our national law that I will allow to be put up to a vote," Zuko found his voice despite the anxiety that coated his mouth in a thick layer of dryness, "as the Fire Lord, I hereby decree that the Fire Nation will no longer criminalize homosexual relationships and in fact, we will legalize marriage between same-sex couples. No longer will someone have to live in fear of life in prison or even execution simply because they love someone of the same sex within the Fire Nation. I vowed that with my reign as Fire Lord, I would usher in an era of change, of peace, of kindness and most importantly in today's session, of love."

He knew that the varying levels of outrage from various nobles and Fire Sages were to be expected, but the pure anger and volatile nature of their shouting still forced him to swallow down the mild disappointment before he held up his hand to signal for silence that he did not receive.

"We are taught from a young age that Agni shines down and blesses all kinds of love; that same sentiment is echoed in our marriage ceremonies, so who are we to deny people of that?"

"All kinds of PURE love, young noble. We have also been taught from a young age that homosexuality is a mockery of what the original Fire Sages held sacred!"

"The Fire Sages under Sozin's rule, when he put these laws in place a hundred years ago!"

"I for one, would like to speak to the person who indoctrinated our Fire Lord to suggest this order in the first place-"

"ENOUGH!" Sokka's shout nearly shook the entire room, but it did more than Zuko's silent hand raise could and for a brief moment, he simply relished in the reprieve.

"You should know better than to shout like that in a Fire Nation law making session, peasant, especially as the Fire Lord's guest."

"First of all, I am the son of the head chieftain of the Southern Water tribe as well as the head of the Fire Nation's trade operations," Sokka's tone managed to stay somewhat light despite the bite in his words to a point where Zuko not only impressive, but incredibly attractive, "and secondly, I know that a lot of you in this room view me as lower than you to the level in which you would consider me one of your servants, that I am simply here as a guest of the Fire Lord, but that is where you are wrong."

"Well then, enlighten us on exactly why you believe you have any power in the nation that is your polar opposite."

"Before I was your head of trade operations, I was the ambassador to the Southern Water tribe. No matter how close I am to the Fire Nation or the Fire Lord himself, my loyalties will always lie with them if I am forced to choose which is a fact that the Fire Lord is aware of and yet, when he was almost assassinated, he chose me to stand in for him, a role typically reserved for relatives or the highest of noblemen. The reasoning as to why was plain and simple for him."

Sokka stopped and made direct contact into Zuko's golden eyes as he continued to speak, ignoring the shouts or anger directed at him from the various seats in the room, every word forcing Zuko to keep the flush from running right to his cheeks.

"Because at the end of the day, he and I see eye to eye on policy. He knew that while he was bedridden and the eventual panic of yet another assassination attempt rippled through the Fire Nation, that I would be the best one to keep a level head and keep the most important decrees going through and the most emergent issues would be handled immediately instead of going to the back burner. At the end of the day, no matter your personal opinions on the subject, keeping people from each other just because they are both male or both female is wrong. I am not asking you to change your own personal beliefs because I know that I cannot force change. But before you cast your vote today, I would like to personally ask all of you one simple question."

Sokka stopped and leaned closer to the edge of his seat, tearing away his eye contact from Zuko and locking eyes with the other voting members in the room before licking his lips and addressing every single one of them.

"How does the addition of this law harm you as an individual?"

The room fell into quiet whispers after that, but when the time finally passed and Zuko asked who was all in favor with his hand raised, he watched as Sokka's hand flew into the air with the same amount of urgency as his own.

And when the hands were counted, announcing the majority had agreed with him, he desperately wanted to run to Sokka; to wrap his arms around him and press his lips to his and celebrate that they had done it, they had indeed won yet another long, exhausting battle.

Instead, Zuko just signed off on the law with the smile that adorned his face like the crown in his top knot never faltering; he knew that he would have to announce his relationship soon, in order for the two of them to truly be free.

But for now, he wanted their relationship to belong to the two of them only for a little bit longer.

If you read this entire fic, then that means you are down here! It means that you read this and thought "yeah, gay rights!" but as we speak, rights for the LGBTQ+ community as well as for anyone who is not a white, straight man in the U.S are in danger due to the 2024 U.S election. If you are 18+, a U.S citizen and registered to vote, I am urging you vote any time between now and November 5th, 2024 at 6 p.m when the polls will close. That being said, bring food and water as it is illegal in some states to give or receive food and water in line. STAY IN LINE. If you are still in line before 6 p.m on November 5th, the poll workers have to let you vote. Don't wear anything that could be taken as political, even if it's your Captain America T-Shirt. And voter intimidation/interference is illegal. If there is someone standing near, around or at your polling place and is harassing you or others to try and keep you from voting, let a poll worker know and if you hear someone discussing plans to do something like light a ballot box on fire, call your non-emergency police line. If it's nothing, you won't be in trouble and if it is something, YOU HELPED PROTECT DEMOCRACY.

When we go to the polls, we are fighting for our rights and when we fight, we win.

[lizbetlovesbyler]

still thinking about this

tw ; talks about gun violence, racism and homophobia

I love everything our community has done and all the work that has gone into analysis, but you dont need a 300-something slide goodledoc to prove there's something going on here.

They talk about wills sexuality in the first episode, going so far as to use what is now a slur to describe him.

"oh but, lizbet, it was the 80s, it wasn't a slur then" I'm aware, but every film/show/book/play that is written in a different time period than the one it is set still has to be relevant to the audience it was made for. A lot of people think stranger things is set in the 80s to call back to classic thrillers like IT and ET, which it is...at its very basic, fundamental sketches. If that was all it is, the GA and younger watchers especially would not care for it as much as they do.

Anyone who ever read 'An Inspector Calls' in school should know what I mean. In 'An Inspector Calls', he author writes about the ignorance of an upper class 1912 family living in capitalist England through the context available to a 1947 audience. The audience knows the family faces two upcoming world wars, the titanic sinking and the great depression, this knowledge is used to highlight the ignorance of the family by believing England, and they too, are free from mistake or flaw. This dramatic irony screams out at you as you are watching/reading it. the typical audience doesn't scrutinise every detail, despite if those details are intentional.

"what makes stranger things relevant?" I hear you ask. "what context do we have that enhances the storytelling?"

Rising Russian-American tensions - Russians weren't actually shown as a threat in the show until season 3. Before then, it was pure paranoia from the US government in the show that fuelled their research and experiments, as the show is set during the cold war, it is relevant for the time period. The show reflects real life tensions as they've spiralled out of control due to the Russo-Ukrainian war through the actual introduction of Russian villains. (I think its common knowledge that the USSR were not actually opening interdimensional portals underneath 80s malls.)

The opening scene of season 4 showing the massacre of the lab children, children we'd seen innocently playing in the rainbow room. 010 we see taking a 'lesson' with Dr Brenner, the interaction is calm and the two joke. Moments later, every single one of those children is murdered. we hear sirens, screaming, and gunshots. The US in 2022 saw 51 school shootings. Gun laws in the US are a topic that a lot of people still do not want to address, but through stranger things, the writers force forward the reality of modern America in a way impossible to ignore. The reality that the leading cause of death in American children and teens is gun violence. The reality that an estimated 4.6 million american children live in a home where a gun is kept loaded and unlocked. The reality that, on average, 23 children are shot in the United States every single day. It's also the idea that it was the forced conformity of Henry Creel that pushed him towards this warped perception of humanity, allowing him to justify his actions. Reflecting the cases in which the shooter was a bullied student. Forced conformity being a core theme of the show, because it is relevant.

Constant reminders of a racial divide and aggression towards black characters, a theme that has persisted throughout the seasons much like it has persisted in real life.

Growing LGBT acceptance

That's all I can come up with at the moment, I'm really eager to hear other peoples ideas on this, but moving on.

Each of these themes can be traced back to the very first episode.

and then we have

If you think this is far fetched, consider how you'd write the first episode of a multi-seasonal period piece to introduce ideas and themes relevant to your audiences.

Consider how the recent legalisation of same-sex marriage in the US would impact your choices.

For the purpose of portraying Will as a reserved kid for which it is unusual for him to not have come home, it would have had the same effect for Joyce to stop at the fact he is made fun of at school for his clothes and such.

this line adds a layer to her concern, that Will was targeted and hate-crimed, she is trying to get the police involved. What does Jim do?

He expresses judgement.

There is no reason to include this other than to lay the groundwork for a theme that will come back later in the show.

A theme that did come back and slapped us all in the face.

A theme that didn't go away like a lot of people wanted it to/assumed it would.

Assumed it would go away because so many shows nowadays drop a label or a flag pin on a character and leave it at that. It's frankly humiliating how people stoop so low to kiss the feet of writers who reduce them down to a few stripes. (most prominent example to me is Sasha Waybright's pitiful bi sticker in the last 3 minutes of the final episode that got people screaming in excitement.)

If this were the Russian-American tensions theme, it would be unusual to drop it before the shows concluding season, its core to Elevens storyline and the interactions of the main cast with ignorant government officials.

People have grown accustomed to the representation of queer characters with labels, that representation is the co-existance of hetero and homo characters without ever needing to address the differences. But we are different, its the beauty of being different that is ignored. I feel quite a lot of representation nowadays fails to reflect the core of LGBT experiences - love.

It is the love that makes us who we are, not the labels.

This is what makes Stranger things worthy of recognition, the queer characters are introduced through their love for others, not a single label is needed, they actually make a point of not labelling a single sexuality, which a lot of people mistook for them "dancing around the topic".

You think, for even a moment - with a style of queer storytelling such as that, that Wills love is going to be used to fuel the heteronormative relationship?

Stranger things - the show about being different, about love conquering hate - wouldn't go so far as to let Mike return that love?

yeah, right.

(i would like to add that these themes are serious issues i'm grateful the writers address. this post isn't meant to prove byler endgame, but the impact a requited love between them would bring to audiences and why that is important, much like the other themes.

the only way to have the full impact is for this theme to persist another season and play a crucial role to the shows conclusion, hence why Mike and Will are likely centre stage, even if they dont "get together", their bond is crucial to the plot, whatever happens with them and rovickie will be unforgettable.)

[metalbvcky]

Stucky Reclist | Summer Reading Bingo

This summer I made it a goal of mine to read several fics, like library reading challenges as a kid, and four months later I made a blackout! I’ve compiled all the works together with links, ratings, tags, and word counts. Each fic contains different genres/tropes/AUs and authors with various abilities of weaving their words.

Thanks to @ficreadingchallenge for hosting this event!

Meow | Teen+ | 4,372 (1/1) | leveragehunters

Square #1: pets Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Magical Realism, Cats, Ghosts, Happy Ending

23 Reasons I Want to Marry Steve Rogers | Gen | 764 (1/1) | FanFicAddict7

Square #2: remix fic pair Tags: No Plot/Plotless, Remix, Marriage Proposal, buzzfeed article, Journalist Bucky, Fluff

in the morning i'll be sober and you'll still be mine | Teen+ | 2,240 (1/1) | mcwho

Square #3: author's oldest fic Tags: Drunken Confessions, Kissing, Shameless Steve Rogers, Light Angst

What We Overheard | Mature | 2,015 (1/1) | Defiler_Wyrm

Square #4: secret relationship Tags: World War II, Period-Typical Homophobia, Secret Relationship, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, Mentions of Historical Racism

Who we are | Explicit | 6,186 (4/4) | Late_to_party_81

Square #5: multichapter fic Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Beefy Bucky Barnes, Daddy Kink, Daddy Dom Steve Rogers, Sub Bucky Barnes

Painterly | Explicit | 8,463 (1/1) | avintagekiss24

Square #6: high school/college AU Tags: Gratuitous Smut, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, Artist Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - College/University, Jock Bucky Barnes, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates

finding our way back | Mature | 40k+ (series of oneshots) | brambleberet

Square #7: part of a challenge or event Tags: Domestic Discipline, Spanking, Dom Steve, Sub Bucky

when and where our eyes meet | Explicit | 2,518 (1/1) | luninosity

Square #8: happy ending Tags: Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Contact

now we’re cookin’ with gas | Explicit | 7,103 (1/1) | angeleyeavenue

Square #9: slow burn Tags: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Chef Bucky Barnes, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers

Dream Daddy | Explicit | 108,071 (29/29) | JBankai89

Square #10: longfic (>25000 words) Tags: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy Steve, Sugar Baby Bucky, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Age Difference, Fluff and Smut, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining

A Boatload of Problems | Not Rated | 3,358 (1/1) | CherriOnTop

Square #11: BIPOC main character Tags: Veteran Steve, Veteran Bucky, Not Canon Compliant, Survivors Guilt, First Meeting, Sam POV, the wilson boat

Frost Caught Fire On Our Lips | Explicit | 7,393 (1/1) | the1918, kocuria-arts (kocuria)

Square #12: fanart Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Small Towns, One Night Stands, Age Difference, Top Steve, Bottom Bucky

Incredible! 100 Year Old Man Finds Love | Teen+ | 2,457 (1/1) | bangyababy

Square: free space Tags: Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes (Shrunkyclunks), Buzzfeed, Memes, Trolling, Getting Together, Marriage Proposal, Humor

so easy to love you | Gen | 2,351 (1/1) | lavenderbucky

Square #13: take your fandom to work AU Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Steve Rogers Cooks, Cooking, Baking, Bucky Goes Back to College

the bleeding heart show | Explicit | 7,756 (1/1) | Tenillypo

Square #14: canon compliant Tags: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Missing Scene, Escape from Siberia, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Laying Low in Wakanda, Unresolved Emotional Tension

last train home | Gen/Teen+ | 42,070 (series of oneshots) | sparkagrace

Square #15: fic written by someone who follows you Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Slice of Life

Quarantine 101 with Dr. Rogers (and the Husband) | Teen+ | 5,575 (1/1) | lordeofstucky

Square #16: superpowers/no powers AU Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Quarantine, Online Classes, Bucky the Husband, Steve the Professor

Haunted | Mature | 1,826 (1/1) | ThePirateStorm

Square #17: unhappy/bittersweet ending Tags: Unrequited Love, Angst, Not A Fix-It, Canon Compliant, Hallucinations

Three Men in a VW | Teen+ | 3,563 (1/1) | Brokenpitchpipe

Square #18: fix-it fic Tags: Captain America: Civil War, Missing Scenes, Road Trip from Hell, Banter, Pining

My Peach and Your Plums | Teen+ | 1,005 (1/1) | buckybarnesdeservestobehappy

Square #19: short fic (<1000 words) Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Steve Rogers Cooks, Food as a Metaphor for Love

My Heart Skips A Beat When I’m With You | Explicit | 5,460 (1/1) | innerslumber

Square #20: Holiday Fic Tags: Valentine's Day, Topping from the Bottom, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes

Ancient Dreams, Modern Land | Gen | 13,796 (1/1) | Greyspaces13

Square #21: angst Tags: Cabin Fic, Isolation, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, The Retreat Safe House (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Evil Alexander Pierce, Angst with a Happy Ending, Protective Bucky Barnes, Canon-Typical Violence

As Sharp as Satin | Explicit | 130k+ (WIP) | blackthorn_possum

Square #22: whump Tags: Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Platonic BDSM, Handler!Steve, Dom Steve Rogers/Sub Bucky Barnes

Stucky Bingo March 2023 Round Robin | Teen+ | 2,049 (1/1) | Dogsled, Girl_Back_There, Politzania, ralsbecket, Sivan325, TrinityDay

Square #23: multiple authors Tags: World War II, Captain America: The First Avenger, Steve Rogers Feels, Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Bad Flirting

Medically Necessitated | Explicit | 91,416 (WIP) | sarahyellow

Square #24: unfinished/work in progress Tags: Omegaverse, Doctor/Patient, Hurt/Comfort, Age Difference, Medical Kink

--

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

~*~

1. ITMF a fic where the Lans or the neis or the cultivation world in general find out about the abuse wwx takes at jiang sect and the other sects trying to help him @zerokogane

~*~

2. Have you all seen maze runner? Yeah. I want a wangxian maze runner version/fusion/setting/same plot or something!!

~*~

3. A) ITMF fics where, in a wedding Wei Ying catches the flowers/bouquet brides throw?

Itmf fics where B) wwx is like a mystery unsolved to anyone and everyone

C) wwx is a magician. Like those cool tricky people uk. Could be real / fake magic. @constellationdks

3B)

Old Foreshadows by protos_metazu_ison (M, 15k, WangXian, YLLZ WWX, BAMF WWX, War, Universe Alteration, Sunshot Campaign) not sure i'm understanding the request, but maybe one of these?

🔒 never been away so long by sundiscus (G, <1k, wangxian, Modern, Pre-Relationship, First Meetings, Ambiguous/Open Ending, (but a happy ending in the endnotes!), Ghosts)

~*~

4. Hello, thank you, my favorite fic comes from your recs. Any fic recs for lan xichen x jiang yanli. No modern era please @dramaqueenrolf

~*~

5. hii, for the next imtf can I ask for a fic where lwj and wwx break up and r mopey about it? a modern au maybe, like there's no promised goodbye here

thank you!! @mercurygirlwt28

~*~

6. Hello! I have a read fics where the characters cultivate to immortality and the story picks up with their lives in modern era. I like the combo of traditional clothes, cultures, and canon personalities in the modern setting. Are there more fics like this? (I cannot remember the names of the two I have read in the past. In one I think WWX loses his memory and regains it upon backpacking to modern Cloud Recesses? In the other WWX time travels to modern and meets LWJ who has lived all those years.)

ridiculous future bullshit by sami (M, 61k, wangxian, WQ/JC/LXC, LSZ & WWX, LSZ/Other(s), LSZ & his family, JYL/OMC, Future Fic, movies, the rewriting of history if the past was different the future is different, But still ridiculous, Humor, the evolution of fashion, immortals through history, LWJ visits other cultures and judges them, Modern, best boy LSZ, Pride Parades, Cats, the legend of WQ, Academia, Border Crossings, biosecurity, oz quarantine is SERIOUS BUSINESS, Kinda cultivated to immortality, Paperwork, Family, Parents and Children, Uncles and nephews, the mortifying ordeal of your family seeing how you really live, Social Media, Chaos Gremlin WWX, Slight Hostage Situations, University, outsider pov, WWX vs Local Culture, actions have consequences, Pets, Movie Stars, Fluff) though it’s a sequel to And Time Is But A Paper Moon so some people are immortal in RFB who died in canon.

Thanks for giving me an excuse to dig up one of my favorite tropes from my bookmarks!! The Future is Ours to Keep series by makebelieveanything & nerdzeword (T, 25k, wangxian, JC & WWX, JC & YZY, JYL/LQY/WQ, post-canon, modern, immortality, reincarnation, healthy family relationships, epistolary, groupchats, fluff) Some beloved cast is immortal in modern times, some reincarnated

Ever Thine, Ever Mine, Ever Ours. by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 3k, WangXian, Immortal LWJ and WWX, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Well it could be a Bittersweet Ending, Love Confessions) Wangxian are immortal, but have pined for a thousand years, and (spoiler!!!) they do get together but mind the bittersweet ending!!!!!!

dark and glimmering by Sanguis (T, 5k, wangxian, post-canon, modern, technology malfunction, established relationship, married couple, immortality) Beautiful and wangxian-centric, not so much about the modern world. But the world is around

Wandering Souls, Wild Ghosts by belleweather (E, 49k, wangxian, post-canon, victorian au, case fic, rentboys, smut, married wangxian, immortality, canon-typical violence, period-typical sexism & racism & homophobia, voyeurism, families of choice) Victorian England with immortal!wangxian’s adventures!

Traditions Series by Witch_Nova221 (G, 7k, WangXian, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Christmas Presents, Modern with Magic, modern day cultivators, Cloud Recesses, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, family traditions, wangxian family feels, Romance, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, immortal cultivators)

A Tale of Two Immortals by esk95 (M, 31k, WIP, WangXian, XiCheng, XuanLi, Post-Canon, Like waaaaay Post-Canon Modern AU, but cultivation still exists, Immortality, Reincarnation, Pretty much everyone is a reincarnation except Wangxian, Secret Identities, Modern with Magic, Immortal!Wangxian) A beloved wip: Immortal wangxian try to solve a mystery, poor Sizhui just wants to be a cultivator and have support of his parents who don’t know anything about cultivation (lol), a lot of reincarnated folk around

MDZS: The Golden Engine by iffervescent (E, 82k, WangXian, XiCheng, Explicit Sexual Content, Immortals) The summary says it all: “In the modern era, immortals Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian return to Gusu. New evil and old friends + new friends and old evils.”

All Old Things are New Again Series by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (M, 59k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, ChengQing, Reincarnation, Modern AU, canon still happened, extreme post canon, Sugar Daddy, Kink Negotiation, gentle dom!LWJ, canonical levels of consent play, Modern Cultivators, Epilogues, yunmeng bros reconciliation, rabbit acquisition) has some immortal lwj and lxc with reincarnation wwx,and it's amazing.

~*~

7. ITMF fics which have wwx's ghosts. Remember ghost brides? And that ghoul child? They don't have to have a major part or something, just the fuc having wwx talking and being friends with ghosts.

It can also have the ghosts taking care of wwx. Loving him and all uk

when the sun goes out by travelingneuritis (E, 176k, WangXian, Modern Cultivation, tech cultivation, Necromancy, Angst with a Happy Ending, insecurity around adoption, Dad!WWX, dad!lwj, Grief/Mourning, Mistaken Identity, Mood Whiplash, Body Swap, sex tears!, Falling In Love, Consensual Somnophilia, apocalypse (localized), Smut, unrealistic sexual stamina, Flashbacks, Time Skips, Illustrations) if you're okay with OC ghosts I highly recommend When the Sun Goes Out by travelingneuritis, it's one of my favorite fics and wwx's relationship with his ghost army (Kaichuang in particular) is one of the reasons why

Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending) WWX has a ghost companion who helps him & acts as a mother figure towards him

let the sun go down on your anger; let it burn you to sleep by enbysaurus_rex (Not rated, 86k, wangxian, WQ & WWX, graphic depictions of violence, chronic illness, narcolepsy, chronic pain, YLLZ WWX, oblivious WWX, sleeping beauty elements, body horror, WIP) has pretty much every one of Wei Wuxian's ghosts playing a part and teaming up with his family to help take care of him in their own way

~*~

8. hii, for the itmf

are there any fics w the trope "someone who believes they're hard to love and someone who loves then like it's breathing?

I hope ure having a nice day!!

~*~

9. Any fics where yu ziyuan treats wwx like a son or nephew??

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 139k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together)

Sail Away Sweet Sister by sami (M, 73k, WangXian, YZY/CSSR/MDM Lan, MingLi, Time Travel, EXTREME Canon Divergence, Wide Focus Narrative, Some People Live/Not Everyone Dies, Most Named/Canon Characters Live, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Families of Choice, Parenthood, this work contains a major tonal shift, Fluff, Angst, Underage Sex, not particularly explicit, but not at all ambiguous, PTSD, Only a tiny bit, Unforeseeable consequences, The butterfly effect, Slightly Dark JYL, Asexual Characters, but that’s not really the focus, Canon-Typical Violence) Also most of sami's time travel fics. this one for sure, probably a few others in the Same Moon series

Across the street to another life by danegen (M, 99k, WangXian, Modern AU, unleashed au, Family Fluff, Set in America, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Addiction, Crime, Amnesia, Ableist Language, another fridged mother, POV Alternating, past wwx/ofc, past wwx/omc, Medium parent YZY, A-Yuan is wwx’s biological son, Musicians, Happy Ending) it's mostly late in the fic but "across the street to another life" REALLY earns that "medium parent yu ziyuan" tag. Far from perfect but really steps up when it matters.

Hope series by RoseThorne (T, 57k, wangxian, WWX & YZY, WWX & JFM, WWX & JYL, YZY/JFM, JC & WWX, LQR & WWX, LXC & JYL, Madam Jin & YZY, LQR & JFM, LXC & LWJ, Transmigration, Time Travel Fix-It, Illnesses, Family, Scars, Memory Loss, Angst, Crying, Music, Nosebleed, Fear, Recovery, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Flirting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent YZY, Referenced Sexual Slavery, Blood and Gore, Monsters, Sexual Tension, betrothal, Arranged Marriage, Grief, Adoption, POV Third Person, POV Alternating, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Good Parent LQR, Clairvoyance, Butterfly Effect, Kid Fic, Epistolary, Food, Secrets, Resentful Energy, Cultivation Sect Politics, Character Death)

The Best Gift by Lan_Wangjoe (E, 45k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mistaken Identity, Miscommunication Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Family Fluff, Family Dynamics, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Dorks in Love, Nice LQR, Meet the Family, Nerdiness, Science Boyfriends, Science Experiments, Fake Science, Science Husbands, Geeks, Work Contains Fan(s) or Fandom(s), Fandom Allusions & Cliches & References, Fans & Fandom AU, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adopted Children, Marriage of Convenience, Secret Marriage, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Stupidity, Himbo LXC, Lan Himbos, Lán Family Feels, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone Thinks They're Together, Good Parents JFM and YZY, Genius WWX, Geniuses)

~*~

10. Does anybody have anything where it’s just Immortal(one of them could be reincarnated and recultivated immortality) Wangxian being happy through the ages or in modern society? (Preferably modern Cultivation society) @omgnectarina

The Future is Ours to Keep series by makebelieveanything & nerdzeword (T, 25k, wangxian, JC & WWX, JC & YZY, JYL/LQY/WQ, post-canon, modern, immortality, reincarnation, healthy family relationships, epistolary, groupchats, fluff) (link in #6) Some beloved cast is immortal in modern times, some reincarnated

Ever Thine, Ever Mine, Ever Ours. by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 3k, WangXian, Immortal LWJ and WWX, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Well it could be a Bittersweet Ending, Love Confessions) (link in #6) Wangxian are immortal, but have pined for a thousand years, and (spoiler!!!) they do get together but mind the bittersweet ending!!!!!!

dark and glimmering by Sanguis (T, 5k, wangxian, post-canon, modern, technology malfunction, established relationship, married couple, immortality) (link in #6) Beautiful and wangxian-centric, not so much about the modern world. But the world is around

Wandering Souls, Wild Ghosts by belleweather (E, 49k, wangxian, post-canon, victorian au, case fic, rentboys, smut, married wangxian, immortality, canon-typical violence, period-typical sexism & racism & homophobia, voyeurism, families of choice) (link in #6) Victorian England with immortal!wangxian’s adventures!

Traditions Series by Witch_Nova221 (G, 7k, WangXian, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Christmas Presents, Modern with Magic, modern day cultivators, Cloud Recesses, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, family traditions, wangxian family feels, Romance, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, immortal cultivators) (link in #6)

A Tale of Two Immortals by esk95 (M, 31k, WIP, WangXian, XiCheng, XuanLi, Post-Canon, Like waaaaay Post-Canon Modern AU, but cultivation still exists, Immortality, Reincarnation, Pretty much everyone is a reincarnation except Wangxian, Secret Identities, Modern with Magic, Immortal!Wangxian) (link in #6) A beloved wip: Immortal wangxian try to solve a mystery, poor Sizhui just wants to be a cultivator and have support of his parents who don’t know anything about cultivation (lol), a lot of reincarnated folk around

MDZS: The Golden Engine by iffervescent (E, 82k, WangXian, XiCheng, Explicit Sexual Content, Immortals) (link in #6) The summary says it all: “In the modern era, immortals Lan Zhan and Wei Wuxian return to Gusu. New evil and old friends + new friends and old evils.”

~*~

11. Itmf pregnant wwx doesn’t realize he is pregnant at first. Broody, hormonal, instinctive, etc., can be foxxian but doesn’t have to be. Bonus points if LWJ has it figured out. Any era is fine.

I didn't know I was pregnant! by Haunted_Cheese (G, 1k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Modern AU, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, Childbirth, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Pregnant WWX)

🔒Little fall of rain by luckymoonly (M, 10k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, WWX didn't know he was pregnant, Mpreg, Mention of Birth, Family Feels, Nielan himbo rights, soft LQR, Misunderstandings, jealous lwj, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Smut, Breastfeeding, Thirsty Granny Wen, JGS being his usual self)

🔒Surprise Baby! by trulywicked (M, 10k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivation, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Didn't know he was pregnant, birthing scene, Little bit of blood, A/B/O Dynamics, Inspired by Twitter, Established Relationship, Fluff)

Blood, Google, and Love by Prairie_Grass (E, 4k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, they were roommates, A/B/O Dynamics, Getting Together, Mpreg, semi graphic giving birth, Alpha LWJ, Omega wwx, Intersex Omegas, (or you could head-canon WWX as trans if you wanted), Fluff and Angst, the run-on sentences are on-purpose because WWX and LWJ are both:, neurodiverse characters, slightly traumatic birth)

Impermanence, Transience, Permanence by Best Bepsy (BepsyGray) (E, 39k, wangxian, canon divergence, unplanned pregnancy, mpreg, gore, sunshot campaign, assumed miscarriage, medical procedures, childbirth, golden core reveal) And the case of 'didn't know I was STILL pregnant'

Does Wei Ying have Covid? by Webawee (G, 2k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Mpreg, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Established Relationship, Pregnancy, Morning Sickness) there's a hillarious fic called does wei ying have covid? its exactly as it sounds our oblivious baby wwx thinks he has covid when lwj thinks wwx is scared to be pregnant/ anxious and wq is wq its great

~*~

12. (Previous part added to FF)

if you could also recommend fics where lwj rejects wwx at first then feels so guilty about it after seeing/hearing about wwx suffering due to his rejection (just any au with this trope)?? i am a sucker for angst with a happy ending.

we are blessed in this community for all the work that you do, thank you so much! 🙇🏻‍♀️ @emkaii

When the Words Stop Coming by mrcformoso (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canonical Character Death, Love Confessions, Rejection, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trauma, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending) Basically where WWX confesses, lwj keeps rejecting him, and canon still happens.

~*~

13. Itmf NMJ is everyone’s big brother (also the best brother nmj).

~*~

14. Hey, hope you're well. ITMF Wèi WuXian appreciation fics. (ex- stunted, starving, juvenility, hua xianle) @tinyfoxpeach

~*~

15. Hello! I wonder if there are works, where Wei Ying died from strangulation in the field by the hands of Jiang Cheng? Thank you!

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, canon divergence, time travel, rogue cultivator WWX, no golden core transfer, not cultivation world friendly, not JC friendly, OCs) Might not be what the requester wants? WWX dies in the siege of the Burial Mounds & part of his spirit gets flung through time & latches onto the moment where he is strangled & his heart stopped & goes 'it's free real estate', resulting in a time travel AU where WWX choses to nope the fuck out of the cultivation world. He does die in that moment, but if the requester wants an angsty MCD fic, this ain't it / has Wei Ying die of strangulation but a fragment of his soul returns to that moment and he lives again.

False Catharsis by mondengel (Not Rated, 792, Horror, Angst) WWX dies. It's only 700 words but it hits hard.

~*~

16. Hello~! ITMF hanahaki disease fics, preferably canon setting? In hanahaki trope someone who has unrequited love will grow flowers in their chest until the roots and branches kill them. Basically a curse to wither away in sadness and die unless your love is requited.

Regret Blossoms by piecrust (G, 7k, wangxian, Hanahaki Disease)

This Lantern Shines For You by apollonie (M, 10k, wangxian, Hanahaki Disease, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Pining WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, LWJ is a Disaster Gay)

~*~

17. Idk if you'll answer this but do u know any fics where lwj travels back in time to his younger selfs body and gets to change how he was like with wwx? (Bonus points if it was just a dream) thanks!!! 💗

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Getting Together, First Time, Pining while fucking, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Angst with a Happy Ending, CQL Verse, almost everybody lives/almost nobody dies, epistolary-ish, canon-ish side pairings, radishes) LWJ goes back & changes his decision at Qiongqi Path

🔒 The Second Hand Unwinds by trulywicked (E, 25k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, Time Travel Fix-It, not JC friendly, not Yúnmèng Jiāng Sect friendly, not Jiāng Family friendly, not YZY friendly, Time Travelling LWJ, Protective LWJ, Fluff, Minor Angst, Minor Character Death, JGS is his own warning, Wooing, LWJ is romantic af, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Gūsū Lán Sect, Supportive LXC, Good Uncle LQR, WIP) LWJ goes back to CRSA

A Matter of Time series by mrcformoso (E, 70 k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, POV LWJ, POV JC, Dark LWJ, Manipulation, Grooming, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Consensual Underage Sex, Except problematic please read warning in first chapter, Blood and Violence, Insane LWJ, Manic LWJ, Conditioning, WWX is a Lán, Minor Character Death, Confused JC, Golden Core Reveal, Good Friend NHS, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiāngs, Abusive Jiāng Family, Jiāng Family Bashing, Jiāng Family Critical, POV NHS, Dark NHS, Anal Sex, Marathon Sex, Dual Cultivation, Qīnghéng-jūn Lives, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Self-Lubricates, Plot Twists, Porn With Plot, Scheming NHS, Manipulative NHS, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WWX) Features dark!LWJ. Mind the tags

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[ashs-cardboard-box]

In sync

~ Trans masc!Arthur Morgan/Trans masc!Reader

~ Romantic

~ 1k words

CW; periods, dysphoria, time appropriate trans/homophobia/racism/misogyny, mention of lynching

Oddly really fluffy (I have cavities from just writing it)

....................................................................................................

....................................................................................................

Being both transgender and homosexual men was as good enough a reason as any for lynching. You and Arthur were no different. As secretive as you tried to be, somehow, someway, it always managed to get out around whatever town you found yourself in. It didn’t help that the pair of you were always surrounded by other minorities like Charles, Lenny, Tilly, Abigail, Sadie, Susan or otherwise.

Ever since you had joined the gang all those years ago, surprisingly, most of them have been supportive of you. Albeit, not without questions, of course. Micah, however, was always an exception to this. He was a sour man and refused to accept anyone that wasn’t himself nor Dutch.

Despite this, you and Arthur had been largely accepted throughout the gang. Seen as nothing less than another brother in the family. Your bodies were different than a typical males, yet that didn’t stop either of you from properly completing your tasks on time.

That is, until, the dreadful month always rears its ugly head again. You had a particular disdain for those damn sanitary belts. They chafed like no other and were all in all uncomfortable. Arthur, however, powered through the discomfort. You almost envied him at times.

The two of you lie on your cot together in your tent, just in your union suits. Your chests bound with that familiar, overly tight fabric that seemed to crush the organs underneath. Not a word his shared for quite a long time. Only the occasional whimper or groan as another wave of cramps hit either of you.

Arthur’s head rests comfortably on your chest, his hand resting just above where your uterus would be. Stroking the wool of your union suit in an attempt to relieve your discomfort, despite feeling his own. Your hand combs through his hair and down the back of his skull repetitively until your hand goes numb.

“This sucks..” you grumble, complaining about it just like you do every month. Arthur chuckles in agreement, rumbling low in his chest. “Wish I were a man, y’know?” you continue with a short sigh. Your muscles tensing as a cramp constricts your inside. You’d rather get stabbed than deal with this.

“Hey.” Arthur chides, looking up towards you with his brows furrowed, causing his forehead to wrinkle. “I don’t wanna hear you talk like that.” “It’s the truth..” you try to protest, but Arthur isn’t having any of it. He lifts his head from your chest and props himself up on his elbow to look down towards you on your back.

“What? You sayin’ you actually like it?” you tease, a grin splitting across your face as he rolls his eyes. Before you can even register what he’s doing, Arthur is straddling your thighs and peering down at you, raising an eyebrow sternly. Leaning down, he begins to place several kisses across your face without a word of explanation.

“Arthur-” you start, only to get cut off by a gruff “admit it.” You were confused and starting to feel flustered. Your cheeks flushing a light tinge of pink. Your hands moving down to Arthur’s hips, your thumbs caressing over his union suit, feeling the sanitary belt underneath. Annoyingly, your cycles had synced with almost every womans’ in camp.

“Admit what?” you retort with a giggle as he continues to kiss your face. Your forehead, cheeks, bridge, nose, lips, chin..not an inch of skin is missed. Your hands move up to Arthur’s chest, placing your hands on his breasts and gently pushing on them to try and get him to quit. Knowing he’s as sensitive as you are, you don’t push hard. Trying to avoid unfastening his chest wrap.

“Admit you are one. You’re my handsome man. Most handsome man I ever met.” He murmurs against your skin, only stopping to look into your eyes. His elbows digging into the cot just above your shoulders. Both of you can feel the other’s breath hitting your faces– breathing slightly heavier due to your hearts racing.

“Sure as hell don’t feel like it..” you mumble, to which Arthur sighs in mock exasperation. Diving back down and trailing kisses across your cheeks and jawline, slowly making his way down your neck. His body tensing atop yours with a small grunt of pain as a particularly painful cramp twists in his gut. You remove one of your hands from his chest and place it on his abdomen in between your bodies, rubbing small circles like he had done for you.

As Arthur gets to a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, you squirm as a ticklish feeling overtakes you. Raising your shoulder and tilting your head to try and squeeze Arthur out of such an area. Laughing and struggling underneath him at his relentless attack.

“O-Okay! Okay! I give! I’m a man; your handsome man-” you cave in between breaths. Arthur sits back up with a satisfied smirk. Even if he hadn’t managed to rid your dysphoria completely, he sure as hell made you distracted enough to feel a bit better. “You’re a prick.” you chuckle with a shake of your head, trailing your hands down his body appreciatively and resting on his thighs.

“You know you love me.” Arthur retorts teasingly, leaning down to place one last kiss onto your forehead before he slides off of you, going back to laying next to you. He lazily lays one of his arms over your midsection, encouraging you closer.

“Unfortunately..” you groan in faux irritation, complying with his request and shifting closer to him. Laying your head on his bound chest as he wraps his arm around your back, rubbing it up and down soothingly. Your own hand returns to rub his sore abdomen, feeling the waistband of the sanitary belt underneath his red union suit. “If I’m your handsome man, then you’re mine.”

Arthur chuckles quietly and buries his nose into your hair, followed by a deep sigh. “‘M happy with that..” he mumbles. Even if it wasn’t an easy time for either of you, having each other’s support and love always made it easier to handle.

....................................................................................................

some t4t cause I can !!! >:3

[valtsv]

Why don't you like The Terror novel? I haven't read it myself so I don't have an opinion, I'm just curious.

apart from the rampant racism, misogyny and homophobia, which feels gratuitous even by the standards of the setting - like i was fully expecting period-typical bigotry, in fact i would have been just as bothered if i didn't encounter any because that would be historical revisionism which doesn't help anyone, but it comes across as very juvenile and excited to have an excuse to use slurs in a way that thoroughly puts me off while reading - it's just. not that well written? credit where it's due, it does successfully capture the misery and fear and pain of dying slowly in the arctic and manages to be very evocative in its descriptions, but the plot is rather thin beneath that and the majority of the characters are uncompelling. i don't care about them being "likable" or "relatable", in fact i love a good book that makes me want to follow the characters' arcs to their very end even if i don't personally like them or see myself in them in any way, but most of them just. don't have much substance to them, which makes it difficult to give a shit about any of their experiences. not all of them, but enough to make it an effort to keep reading. can't say it's a book i'd recommend unless you really want to thoroughly study all accounts of the franklin expedition/arctic exploration.

[shephardofthedamned]

The X Reader Fics Where You're Not A Chick

    Hello, gents & theys! Are you a self shipper? Are you tired of every single self shipping blog immediately assuming you're a woman, unless you specify otherwise?

   Well, fear no more, as I, your local transgay writer, am here to provide! You want angst? You'll get angst. You want fluff? Right this way! You want smut? Well, I'm not one to say no! Whatever it is you want, with whatever merc you want, you will recieve, so long as you're not a binary woman. I don't care what your identity is, I won't assume, but this is for all the fellas tired of being assumed to be straight chicks, just cause you self-ship with another fella!

  Request, comment, or just lurk & enjoy, I don't care! But just know that I see you, I feel you, & I'm also tired of being assumed to be a chick.

    (Also, there will not be ANY 'period-typical' homophobia unless one of you requests an angst fic with that premise. This is meant to be escapism, & if Demo self-shippers don't gotta worry about period-typical racism, us queer guys shouldn't have to worry about the homophobia either. You & your FO will experience the full range of fluff & sweetness you could ever want or need, cause you deserve it!)

Also, for the sake of consistency, Rookie is gonna be the stand-in name for the reader in the fics.

First one coming up is a Demo x Reader fic requested by a friend of mine.

[indelicateink]

fellow friends deviants and aficionados, there is an Interview with the Vampire kink meme!

one million million thank yous to @vampire-dove for hosting this anon kink meme for us.

i'm going to share some of the prompts going on over there. please go add more. please fill prompts. please go destroy those gentlemen's cervixes. (cervices? google says it's cervices. and that they're going untended.)

Prompts [2/?]:

--

Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac

"In 1910s New Orleans, newly arrived impoverished immigrant Lestat supplements his acting career with sex work but has some bad experiences.

"He propositions Louis de Pointe du Lac to take him on as a sex worker and expand Louis’s queer clientele. Louis samples the goods."

--

Armand/Daniel Molloy, Armand/Lestat de Lioncourt Armand/Lestat de Lioncourt/Daniel Molloy, Lestat de Lioncourt/Daniel Molloy Dom/sub Possessive Behavior

"Lestat’s relationship to Armand is, in a word, odd. Lestat is possessive over his lovers, even if technically he and Armand never were. This was fine when Armand and Louis were together because they were both, ultimately, his.

"Daniel Molloy is not.

"Really just Daniel and Lestat learning to tolerate/get along with each through domming Armand together."

--

Damek/Armand, Louis de Pointe du Lac damek auditions for The Farm after arriving in Dubai.

"louis directs from the cuck chair as damek services armand on their bed and armand samples damek’s blood for consideration."

--

Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac Mental Breakdown, Supernatural Illnesses, Masturbation, Grief/Mourning, Agoraphobia, Hallucinations, Forced Orgasm, Bargaining, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings

"Snapshots of depression-era Lestat in New Orleans and his Dreamlouis. 1955, 1967, 1974, 1985, 2008. Lestat never forgets their anniversary. You would think a fantasy would tell you what you want to hear, but Dreamlouis is a challenge every sunset and does not suffer fools, and Lestat wouldn’t have it any other way."

--

Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac Armand/Daniel Molloy Recreational Drug Use, Drugged Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sugar Daddy, Clubbing

"1980s or 1990s wealthy closeted wall street finance bros and FWB Lestat and Daniel spend their nights after their high-pressure jobs coked up and cruising for guys.

"Lestat becomes obsessed with the hot melancholy businessman and fellow closet-case Louis de Pointe du Lac, who he gets off with in the back of a club one early morning. Daniel yearns for Armand, the hot guy he sees around on the circuit on the arm of a new older man every night."

--

Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac Secret Relationship, Shame, Closeted Character, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Internalized Homophobia, Exposure, Outing, Fear of Discovery

"AU where Louis doesn’t freak out after their one night stand, Paul doesn’t die, this courtship is taking way longer than Lestat wants. Lestat becomes a regular at the du Lac family dinners. Louis’s queerness continues to be an open secret and forbidden topic in his family.

"Louis’s competitors (Tom, Alderman Fenwick, etc) sabotage him by exposing his queerness in a major way (maybe they get him and Lestat arrested in the act [but ofc lestat’s money avoids them jail time]?). Louis is shunned by his family and Storyville and his business is in crisis. But he perseveres."

[lunarthecorvus]

Inej Ghafa parent's fanfiction recommendations part of Lunar's soc fanficiton rec series

-------------------------------✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧----------------------------------

what a mother was by @cameliawrites

Wordcount: 62k Chapters: 8/8

Characters: Inej Ghafa's Mother, Inej Ghafa's Grandparents, Inej Ghafa's Aunt, Inej Ghafa's Father, Inej Ghafa, Kaz Brekker

Tags: Mother-Daughter Relationship, Motherhood, Family, Romance, Coming of Age, Prequel, Time Skips, Suli Culture & Religion, Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Canon-Typical violence, Period Typical Racism, Sick Character, Grief/ Mourning, Attempted Sexual Assault, First Love, Implied/ Referenced Homophobia, Eating Disorders, Bittersweet, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending

Author's summary/notes: "She could recount every detail of the day she married Kolhat: the geraniums her sister had embroidered along the sleeves and hem of her dress, one of her father’s old handkerchiefs tucked into her pocket, her mother’s silk veil draped over her hair. She could recall the day she met him, when she was all of twenty years old. Inej was not yet twenty. Shanta still felt as young as all that, and she felt far older." . . . Before she was Inej’s mother, Shanta Ghafa had a mother too. or: ten years and six suitors in the life of Mama Ghafa. My summary/notes: A beautiful retrospective of Mama Ghafa's past, the life she has lived, and all she has loved and lost. Camelia is just an amazing writer and every part of this fic was beautfully written. You can feel the grief and joy of Shanta's life and it added levels and depth to her character that I never would've expected. While reading this I couldn't believe that this wasn't canon and its own book. I would kill to read this for the first time again.

---------- ☾₊ ⊹

Sankta Margaretha and Other Tales of Sorrow by @oneofthewednesdays

Wordcount: 18k Chapters: 8/8

Characters: Inej Ghafa, Inej Ghafa's Mother, Inej Ghafa's Father, Kaz Brekker, Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck

Tags: Post-Book 2: Crooked Kingdom, Hurt/Comfort, Family, Angst, Implied/ Reference Rape/ Non-con, Canon Typical Violence, Graphic Description of Corpses

Author's summary/notes: When his daughter was stolen from beneath his nose on the outskirts of Os Kervo, Samir Ghafa lost his faith in the saints. After a letter arrives bearing the insignia of the Lantsov double-eagle, he finds his hope rekindled. But when he learns of the demon of Ketterdam, he begins to fear once more… My summary/ notes: I'm not sure how to write this without directly spoiling it.. but a certain opinion Inej's father has about someone is surprisingly uncommonly found in fics and its so interesting to read how the opinion is formed and how Samir acts because of it. Then consequently how the others act and feel because of Samir's actions. (I was laughing my ass off while writing this so vaguely)

---------- ☾₊ ⊹

Ten Minutes in the Life of a Pear by @oneofthewednesdays

Wordcount: 8.9k Chapters: 4/4

Characters: Inej Ghafa, Inej Ghafa's Mother, Inej Ghafa's Father, Kaz Brekker, Asha, Hanzi

Tags: Panic Attacks, Healing, Implied/ Reference Rape/Non-con, Canon backstory, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Post-Canon

Authors summary: Four glimpses into breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert with the Ghafa Family. My summary/ notes: A heartwarming fic reflecting on the pain and the way relationships both platonic and romantic can develop and grow throughout the different points in life.

---------- ☾₊ ⊹

Runs in the family by DopamineAddict

Wordcount: 99k Chapters: 16/18 (hasn't been updated since march)

Characters: Inej Ghafa, Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa's Mother, Inej Ghafa's father, Wylan Van Eck, Jesper Fahey. Tante Heleen, Specht, Roeder, Anika

Tags: Revenge, Family Reunions, Canon-Typical violence, Coming of Age, Inej Ghafa needs a hug, Past Rape/ non con, Post-Book 2: Crooked Kingdom, Kaz is scared of Inej's parents he knows hunger for revenge when he sees it, the Ghafa's might be a bit non canon but we only see them from Inej's pov in canon so..

Author's summary/notes: As the Ketterdam harbour grows closer, Priya and Devnand Ghafa steel themselves for the truth of whatever their daughter had been through over the past two years. And for what they might do about it. My summary/notes: Priya and Devnand meet their daughter again after years, they learn about her and what's she's been doing, but the other question that will be answered is what have they been up to since Inej has been taken. (This fic is just incredible, it changed how I saw her parents)

[yunamedkostobot]

Jacegan Week 2024: Day Six. Historical

1910-1920s silent cinema AU

 TW: period-typical racism and homophobia, “Birth of the nation’s” cinema success,  implied radium poisoning, mentioned Red Scare

In this au, Jace and his brothers(and a little sister Visenya) actually grew up in the whole-acting family. Their mother, whose family got poor after losing all of their money during the Long depression, started her vaudeville acting career and became the family's breadwinner from the tender age of eight and rose up to the second highest paying actress(after Lotta Crabtree). Their father is a famous musician coming from a wealthy family, their paternal grandmother is a former actress by herself and their aunt is the costume maker for the theaters. They are not really in touch with their maternal side of the family, since they did not approve of their mother's acting career.

Meanwhile, Cregan comes from the farmer’s family of Norwegian second-geheration immigrabts. His family went bankrupt in the panic of 1907, so he and his sister were left with almost no money. Cregan was forced to turn to seasonal worker, while Sara started to work at the clock fabric.

Cregan met Arra Norrey at the mill at Lawrence. They married and later had a baby Rickon together. However, since Arra was forced to work even when she was ill and pregnant, she died of influenza not so long after Rickon’s birth. It happened not so long before the Lawrence strike of 1912, where Cregan actually took a huge part: from helping to evacuate the kids to standing up against the strikebreakers.

Cregan and Arra actually loved to go to cinema to watch movies(and Arra especially loved Max Linder’s and Roscoe Arbuckle’s comedies), but after the strike is won, Cregan feels some type of rage against the cinema that it does not depict the life in its full nightmare and even the social films mostly concentrate on such things as imprisonment and abortion(he understands it’s significant though) and the films about the labor focus more on the redemptions of masters which is not the part of workers ordinary lives. He decides that no matter what, he will wear his IWW red card proudly.

He is lucky though and after the long season of season work he, with Sara’s help he gets a clerk job at one of the “ Radium Luminous Material Corporation” offices in New York. In his spare time, he writes scenarios for different studios and walks a lot with Rickon.

Meanwhile, Jacaerys is living his best life: he lives with his mother, father, four brothers, cousins and little sister, they all star in the feature films at their director-grandfather’s studio with his family, and now is set to marry his cousin Baela, who is an actress too(since it is a pre-Code times, she legally still can play any role). Her sister Rhaena, meanwhile, helps her mom as costumer.

Meanwhile, Corlys gets the news about his rivals in a Biograph(corporate spies, you know) that D.W.Griffith has left them, founded his own company and now is adapting “The Clansman” by Dixon. No need to say both he and Rhaenys are infuriated by it. They decide to start to make a counter-move and make another period drama movie to beat it(they’ll fall in beating in the box-office, but a good movie will be made).

Sadly, they did not find a good scenario for a long time. Come the winter of 1914, and only there they found the scenario written by Cregan: which tells the early life of Samuel Gridley Howe, the famous abolitionist, friend of John Brown and the founder of the Perkins’s Institute for the disabled. More precisely, it tells about his participation in the Greek Revolution and arrest in Poland.

They buy the scenario from Cregan, and Corlys, seeing that this young man has the potential of a good scenarist, gives him a two-year contract. Cregan agrees and starts to refine the scenario alongside Rhaenys. 

Both young men meet each other at the stairs, when Jace and Baela accidentally stumble on Cregan, who is going out of Rhaenys’s room with a lot of paper in his arms, cause Rhaenys has a tendency to write every scene in detail.

They cross their ways simultaneously. They see each other on the set, when Cregan sometimes approaches cameraman Elmo Tully while Jace and his screen partner are waiting for them — the partner is an actor who played young Greek Howe meets in his travels. Daemon, who is playing the older lead, does not even attempt to hide total disinterest.

They cross their path at the costume shop, when Jace sees his cousin Rhaena disciss costumes with Cregan, and his voice with norwegian accent strikes something in him does not understands.

They cross the way during the lunch break, when Jace with his stuntman and younger brother Luke are discussing something funny, and Cregan suddenly thinks how it may look like on the screen and attempts not to listen to them, but to read on their lips, but it fails miserably, since he stares on someone else’s faith without even noticing. 

Their first conversation happens when Cregan sees Jace dragging ten books about Howe Rhaenys asked about and another five illustrated books about clothes of this time for Rhaena. They talk a lot about their favorite books and Cregan mentioned he would love to read «Martin Iden» by Jack London, but he does not have a strength to go to the library after the whole work day and spending time with his son. Jace is surprised by learning that their new scenarist has the son and urges him to bring the boy to the work.

Next day Cregan finds the book he asked nearby the set.

Baby Rickon absolutely loves the studio, especially playing hide-and-seek with kid Aegon, Viserys and Visenya. Sometimes, Luke and Rhaena playfully join them. Even lesser times, Laena coo over new boy and secretly give them a lot of sweets to both Cregan and Rhaenyra’s chargrin.

During the filming and writing there are not so many incindents that may cause anybody harm. However, one day the decoration falls on the set, when Luke is making the stunts, and it takes both Jace's and Cregan's fast reactions to drag him from the dangerous zone. After this, they merely look at each other and start to laugh — to everybody's confusement.

At this moment, they are just happy men, and oh gods, they are sure that the film they are making will be great.

(It would not be great, but good nontheless. Like many films they will do after it, but this time will be remmebered as the happiest one).

(Neither Jace, nor Cregan doesn't know know, where we'll ther relationship go, and how many moments, both good and bad, they will share together. There would be a twelve movies(most of them a hystoricals, one based on personal tragedy and one of them a mix of socialist propaganda and action), temporarily break-up, not really happy marriages to women(similiar to their partners, but not actually them), arrests during the Red Scare, Luke's injury and his marriage to Rhaena, adaptation of «Martin Iden» they made together, Cregan's sister being Radium Girl, scandal based on rumours overblown by Hedda Hopper, serving as historical consultants, the world travel, La Olimpiada Popular and death — one at Madrid, and another at Jarama. So many things).

But now, at this moment, they are happy.

[steddieunderdogfics]

For Current WIPs: Steve and Eddie's Tryst Through Time by 419Jhat https://archiveofourown.org/works/51186757

When I say this fic lives in my brain 24/7, it's not an exaggeration!

Steve's and Eddie's Tryst Through Time by 419Jhat

@419jhat

Rating: Explicit

175,553 words, 19/? chapters

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Tags: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Time Travel, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Not From The Main Characters Tho, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Confident Bisexual Steve Harrington, Gay Eddie Munson, Gay Disaster Eddie Munson, Coming Out, being outed, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson Friendship, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Friendship, Scoops Ahoy (Stranger Things), Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington Needs Therapy, Two POVs, Slow Burn, Sharing a Bed, Sharing Clothes, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Oblivious Steve Harrington, He Picks Things Up Eventually, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll

Summary:

It’s 2023 in boring Hawkins, Indiana, and Steve Harrington doesn’t know what he’s doing with his life. Home from college with a barely passing GPA, recently dumped, and now drunkenly careening down a dark country road to the tune of his own misery, Steve realizes that he might be depressed. He wonders if he should see a therapist. It’s too bad this thought comes just before a glowing red hole cracks open in the road, and he’s sent careening through time and space. It’s 1985 in boring Hawkins, Indiana, and Eddie Munson has plans for his life. First, graduate high school. Next, provide a kickass D&D campaign for those nosey little freshman who joined Hellfire over summer. And finally, write more music and go on tour with his band, Corroded Coffin. It’s too bad it all goes out the window when he finds the hottest man he’s ever seen stranded on the side of the road next to a glowing red hole to hell and a car from the future.

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was Current WIPs.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

[the-modern-typewriter]

November 2023 Book Rec

Fraternity by Andy Mientus

Queer, Historical YA (USA, 90s,)

Dark Academia vibes

Demons

Multiple POVs

Found family

Note: period typical homophobia/racism, bullying, AIDs crisis

In the fall of 1991, Zooey Orson transfers to the Blackfriars School for Boys hoping for a fresh start following a scandal at his last school. However, he quickly learns that he isn’t the only student keeping a secret. Before he knows it, he’s fallen in with a group of boys who all share the same secret, one which they can only express openly within the safety of the clandestine gatherings of the Vicious Circle – the covert club for gay students going back decades. But when the boys unwittingly happen upon the headmaster’s copy of an arcane occult text, they unleash an eldritch secret so terrible, it threatens to consume them all. A queer paranormal story set during the still-raging AIDS crisis, Fraternity examines a time not so long ago when a secret brotherhood lurked in the shadows. What would Zooey and his friends do to protect their found family?

TMT notes: It wasn't what I expected when I picked it up, but I loved it! It's a dark, unique book, lightened by the genuine-feeling connections and love between the main cast of complex characters. Despite the paranormal elements, it felt very real to me. The narrative voice is distinctive and rich. I personally had an amazing time from start to end :)

(Previous monthly recs here)

[pegs-carter]

STEGGY WEEK 2024 @steggyfanevents

day six — WIPs and updates

sneak peek of the first chapter of my WIP, The Second Time Around.

tags Established Relationship, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Post-Avengers: Endgame, Alternate Timeline, Time Travel, Chief Peggy Carter, Howling Commandos, Emotional Hurt/Comfort,  POV Peggy Carter, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Period-Typical Racism, will add tags

Peggy wasn’t transferred to LA, in the end. She actually had started working as Chief of the DC office four months ago.

She took over from the previous one, Chief Kevin Kelly, after an early retirement due to a cardiac arrest he barely survived. Phillips pulled all the strings for that to happen, masking her name as M. Carter in all the paperwork to deceive the higher-ups.

It wasn’t a difficult task in the end as of all four US SSR offices, the national headquarters had the worst performance. Meanwhile, New York had the best, and to no wonder considering it had Peggy Carter among their men until recently. Emphasis on men, as Peggy was still the only female operative in the whole agency.

Despite her being great to the NY office, the NY office wasn’t great to Peggy in her final days there. Following Jack’s assassination attempt, Chief Flynn took over and it was like she got back to square one when it came to her job prospects.

Worse than square one, perhaps. Chief Dooley, for all his flaws, was somewhat protective of her. In a very condescending way, yes, mostly due to his respect for Captain Rogers, but protective regardless. Eventually, he started to respect Peggy because of her own merit. Then he died.

Jack Thompson, her second SSR boss, was… Jack Thompson. In all that name meant, whatever it meant. She wasn’t sure to this day, years after knowing the man. It never felt like he was her Chief, it felt more like Dooley took the day off and had Jack temporarily take his place like he used to when he was alive.

Thompson never treated her as a subordinate, either. It was more like a big brother who relished his momentary authority over his little sister as their parents were out of town, something she experienced for the first time in her life. Jack was no Michael, that was for sure.

She liked him better than Flynn, still. Her last boss simply thought she was stupid, which is something Dooley or Thompson never even considered. He made sure she was useless in the office, almost out of spite. Combining his treatment of her with her engagement with Daniel, Peggy couldn’t wait to be transferred to LA.

She had no idea she wouldn’t end up in New York or Los Angeles, but rather in Washington instead. As a Chief instead of an Agent, no less.

The transition wasn’t easy. The translation, neither. The D.C. men didn’t take well to having to respond to a female Chief and moving was always stressful. Nothing would beat the hassle of moving countries, but in the span of a year, Peggy lived in three different places in three different cities.

No matter how inconvenient it was to move once again, living alone in her own house made it worth it. No rules like in the Griffith and no need to depend on other people like when she lived in a Stark residence.

Technically, she still did in that last regard as the house was actually Howard’s. She was leasing it from him, but only technically, as Peggy made sure that her rent would amount to the price of the house after a period of time.

Howard was unhappy about this but yielded. Granted, she was quite certain that he lied about the cost; if depended on him, she wouldn’t pay a dime. Howard was like that when it came to gifts, he would buy you a house like it was nothing. And it was, for him. It really was.

Besides her modest house, he owned a mansion as he was living in DC as well. If you would ask him, he would say he was bored of NY and LA and wanted fresh new air. A lie.

The truth was, he was working with Peggy and Phillips to create the SSR’s successor. It was a complete secret and the rest of the staff was unaware their agency was in its last days.

It was time; the war was over. War was different, too. It wasn’t a fight between soldiers anymore, now it was between spies. With rumours that the Soviets were close to making their own Bomb, the necessity of a new agency suited for modern times was greater than ever.

However, while the government had no plans to continue the SSR, it didn’t have intentions of developing a replacement for it either. That was entirely Phillip’s idea and he recruited Howard and Peggy for it to come to fruition. He would take advantage of the SSR’s timely death and repurpose its corpse: adopt its orphaned agents, retake its abandoned structures, and continue its interrupted missions.

For that, Phillips would use his military connections and his new ranking of General. Peggy would take care of the spy-craft and Howard would be responsible for the technology and the financing. Mostly, though, Howard Stark and his Stark Industries were a leverage card in diplomatic relationships.

Leverage was needed because, unlike the SSR which was just a governmental collaboration between the USA and the UK, the new agency would be international and semi-private. Countries that joined in would have the incentive of access to cheaper and exclusive Stark technology, something irresistible in the ongoing Cold War.

There was a long way to go until that, granted. For now, Peggy would train to be one of the heads of a spy agency by being Chief of an SSR office. That was why Phillips was so determined to help Peggy with her promotion in the first place, having that position in her resume was a way of selling the idea of a female Director.

It was really a tough sell. Not because Peggy in particular wasn’t up to the task, but rather because men already have a hard time considering women their peers, let alone their superiors. The agents in her office would say so, plus a few jokes behind her back.

She had heard them all. Betty Carver. Serving under the Captain. Red, white, and blue love bruises. Raising his American Flag. The list went on.

At first, everybody hated her except Agent Kermit Kelly, Chief Kelly's younger son, and she suspected his obvious crush on her played a part in that. With time and her professionalism — not her personality —, the men started accepting her more and more. Far from enough, better than nothing.

Things got way better and somehow way worse when Dugan and Jones moved there. The Howling Commandos were disbanded and its five remaining members were relocated: Dugan to DC, Sawyer to Houston, Falsworth and Pinkerton to London. And Jones…

Gabe moved to DC, but not because of the SSR. He decided to join civilian life alongside Morita, another Washington resident, and start a doctorate at his Alma Mater Howard University right there in the city.

Things got better because, after a long time, she would be among friends that were fighters. As much as she loved Angie, the Jarvises, and Howard, there were some things in her life they couldn’t even grasp. She missed that type of connection, that understanding.

Things got worse because she had yet another man, Dugan, ‘under her sheets’. According to the bullpen, she had slept with Captain America — true, but it was none of their business —, Phillips — so she could get the job —, Howard — for money — and the Commandos.

All of them. During the war and after.

And Timothy… He didn’t help. He was all heart, all little restraint. Every comment about Peggy got under his skin, which didn’t help the affair allegations. He even punched the worst wanker in the office, Kelly’s other son, after he had enough of him, which was actually very little. Peggy had to punish Dugan because of that.

Nevertheless, she would be lying if she didn’t appreciate the gesture.

It’s not like she could punch Agent Kenneth Kelly herself being his superior, no matter how much she wanted to. One of the downsides of being Chief, bummer.

She liked where her life was at, at the end of the day, regardless of all those nuisances and obstacles. She had her own house, she was her own boss, and she was forging her own path, all by herself.

On her own.

Alone.