#Out of context fic bits

[bellamontwasright]

The passive aggressive bimbofication of a transgender woman via daedric magic as a punishment for continual insubordination

[sheerakk]

[vinelark]

happy friday! here is a little bbts chapter 5 proof of life

When Tim comes down again his mouth is full of blood—bitten cheek—and his whole head throbs, an almost fizzy numbness flooding through his jaw in the sudden absence of pain. He struggles through another wheezing breath, wincing at the familiar sensation of torn muscles around his rib cage. “Ah,” Checkered Shirt is saying. “There does seem to be a localized paralytic effect. That last placement may have been counterintuitive; my mistake. But as we discussed, that’s the beauty of mistakes in a setting like this. The opportunity to learn from them.” Tim tips his head. Clumsily spits a mouthful of blood on the metal floor—evidence, he thinks hazily, if he moves me—and finds his tongue. “Funny how you still haven’t gotten what you want,” he half-slurs, “considering how many opportunities you keep having.”

[the-witchhunter]

Question for the DPxDC crowd

what do you guys actually consider liminal? Like, I genuinely don't know anymore

because early on it was pretty much just Jazz having grown up with ectoplasm in the house for years and in her food, which makes sense, and it was an extremely rare thing

then it got expanded to Sam and Tucker

Then members of the Bat crew that got resurrected by a Lazarus pit(and Dick for some reason? He's never canonically died guys...)

Now it seems to be the entirety of Amity Parkers, All the Bat clan, half of Gotham, Half the Justice Leage, the entirety of the League of Assassins

is it just having come into contact with ectoplasm/Lazarus Pits? Prolonged exposure? Because it's starting to feel like everyone is liminal besides the guys in white for some reason

Like you guys have started using Liminal to basically replace the word "Ecto-contaminated" There is a canon word for the thing you guys have started using liminal to describe

[loppiopio]

just some 🥥 related sillies i've made for that fic we all know.

[shesmore-shoebill]

As promised: An Amangela fic inspired by the whole "Hey Siri, remind me I'm an asshole at 2:30 tomorrow" arm grabbing in the latest Sounds Fishy video.

Written sporadically over the course of today, edited on the go. Completely platonic although there ARE bits in here you can interpret otherwise if you'd like.

also yes when i posted about this earlier today i said it was 2.6k words. You might notice it is 4.2k words. Thats because I wrote everything leading up to the actual inspiring event. And then when I tried to wrap up the fic the actual event snuck in and doubled the size. Oops.

[phoenix-art-official]

dont ask me why i made this, its all my hand felt like producing

[frankiebirds]

underrated line. what a question.

(unclear from the screenshots so here's who says what: ELLE: Yesterday I found myself looking forward to watching a soap opera. REID: Which one?)

[youchangedmedestiel]

Ask Game!

25 & 29

25. Have you ever upset yourself with your own writing?

I don't remember feeling upset as I wrote something. At least not yet. My writing actually helps me process things and deal with feelings. I tend to write happy endings but if somehow I end up writing a fic that doesn't, then maybe I'll be upset. If I manage to write about widower arc Dean one day, I'll probably be upsed, maybe that's why I don't write about him (yet).

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

It's a fic that happens after 8x22, one chapter is actually a fic I read and inspired me to write more about it and then it turned into something with more than 40k words. It was one of the first fic I wrote. I was experimenting my writing actually and words just kept flowing at me. I was just trying, okay? I just finished the show I had to let this all out and I was exploring their relationship. Anyway, don't judge me please. The scene I'm sharing with you happens in Dean's room at the bunker, there you go:

“Cas, what are you doing here?” Dean asks frowning, clearly still mad at Castiel’s reaction toward the flirty waitress. Castiel stands up and presses play on the stereo to start the song “The Rain Song” from Led Zeppelin. Dean looks at the stereo with his eyebrows still frowning, not understanding what is happening, since Castiel doesn’t answer his question.

“I need to tell you something, Dean.” Castiel starts smiling, walking toward Dean, while Dean just stands there, where he is looking at him. “I know you like this band and this song. This is why I chose it. And I know you know the lyrics but please listen to them. You will understand what I want to tell you.” Dean tilts his head and parts his lips, surprised. Even though, he doesn’t remember all the lyrics, not remembering every exact word, he knows what it is about. Plus, with the worry face Castiel makes, Dean understands what is happening. This is scaring the hell out of him but it is happening and he can’t stop it, he doesn’t really want to anyway. So, he smiles at him.

“Cas” he starts, wanting to apologize for doubting him with the waitress, but Castiel stops him instantly.

“Listen, Dean.” During the first lyrics, Castiel comes closer to Dean and extend one hand toward him. “I would like to dance with you,” Castiel offers. Dean hesitates while staring at him and puts his hand in Castiel’s. Both smiles as they lean in at the same time. Dean removes his hand from Castiel’s and puts his hands on his lower back, while Castiel puts his arms around Dean’s neck. When the first lyrics are sang, he rests his chin on Dean’s shoulder, while they dance slowly together.

“Listen,” he tells Dean again, whispering in his ear.   

It is the springtime of my loving

The second season I am to know

You are the sunlight in my growing

So little warmth I've felt before

It isn't hard to feel me glowing

I watched the fire that grew so low, oooh, oh

“You helped me grow. You changed me, Dean.” Castiel starts when the first lyrics are over and only the melody stays, moving back his head to stare into Dean’s eyes while he cups his head with his hands. “You taught me so many things, you taught me how to feel. You taught me about free will. And I believed in it, I have faith in it, I have faith in you. I would do anything for you. I would die for you. I never used you, Dean. I never will.” Castiel says finally calling back to what happened in Dean’s first fantasy.

“Cas –“ Dean starts, swallowing his tears. “I know that now. I should have never doubted you, I’m sorry.” Dean says lowering his gaze, but Castiel lifts his head up a little bit, already missing looking into his eyes. Dean’s eyes are back staring at Castiel’s blue.

“And I’m sorry I gave you some reasons to believe I would do this to you.” Castiel’s eyes starts to be fill with tears too.

“You didn’t Cas, it’s not you. It’s me. I always think people will leave me.”

“I never will, Dean. I couldn’t. You hear me? I always come back to you at some point. When you told me that we were family, that you needed me in that crypt. You broke the hold Naomi had on me, Dean. Don’t you understand? I can’t stay away from you for too long. If I do it’s because I have no other choice and it’s to keep you safe.” Castiel’s heart is racing, carried away by the emotions invading him.

“You had a choice in Purgatory, and you chose to stay. You chose to let me leave without you.” Dean throws, remembering how hurt he felt at the time, when Castiel showed him what really happened at the gate, he even altered his own memories to avoid knowing Castiel’s left him on purpose.

“It was different I was feeling so much guilt about the Leviathans, about what I did to people, to angels and to you. I didn’t deserve to go out with you. I didn’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you.”

“You do, Cas. I’m the one that doesn’t deserve you. I always get angry and end up hurting people I care about. Hurting you.” 

“It’s not true. You are not like that. Not at all. You see yourself how our enemies sees you but they are all wrong, you too. And you do, Dean. Deserve me.” Castiel says resting his head again on Dean’s shoulder, with his face buried in his neck this time. “Now, let’s dance slowly again. I like doing that with you. And listen to the song.” Castiel smiles against Dean’s neck.

It is the summer of my smiles

Flee from me, keepers of the gloom

Speak to me only with your eyes

It is to you I give this tune

Ain't so hard to recognize, oh

These things are clear to all from time to time, ooh

Oh, oh

“You are not like you said you are, Dean. When I look into your eyes, and after all these years, all I see is the most caring human in the whole world looking back at me. You care about people, ready to risk your own life to save them. You saved the world so many times. You saved ME too.” Castiel says moving his head back again to stare into Dean’s eyes, showing how much he deeply thinks what he is telling him.

Ah, talk, talk, talk, talk

Hey!

I've felt the coldness of my winter

I never thought it would ever go

I cursed the gloom that set upon us, upon us, upon us

But I know that I love you so, ohhhh, oh

But I know that I love you so

These are the seasons of emotion

And like the wind, they rise and fall

This is the wonder of devotion

I see the torch we all must hold

This is the mystery of the quotient, quotient

Ah, upon us all, upon us all a little rain must fall

Just a little rain, oh yeah

Uhh, ooooh, yeah yeah yeah

Castiel pulls back for the third time to look at Dean again. Dean is used to it now and he knows it means Castiel still has something to tell him. “We have been through so much together, you and me. Despite or thanks to all that, today I am able to say that –“ Castiel stops taking a deep breath to put all he feels in three little words as much as possible. “I love you”. He finally confesses, letting a tear run down his cheek. Dean swallows hard and wipes it with his thumb. He guessed what Castiel wanting to tell him, knowing the song, but he needed to be sure, he needed to hear what he had to say and he needed to hear that he loves him.

“I love you too, Cas.” Dean grabs Castiel’s neck with one hand and pulls him closer. He brushes their lips together, a desperate and passionate kiss, saying ‘I love you’ in another way again. Dean is overwhelmed by Castiel’s love and kiss, not controlling what is getting out of his mouth, his emotions, his feelings for him are getting the upper hand. “My mom used to tell me that angels were watching over me. I couldn’t believe her anymore when she died. But then, I met you Cas. And you gave me faith again. You always took care of me. You always watch over me, even when I sleep.” Dean chuckles and continues his speech, more seriously, putting his heart out. “Then, I fell in love with you as I never did before. I didn’t believe I could love someone like I love you. Cas, you are the light in my life, never think otherwise. You are my angel, you always have been.” Castiel smiles fondly at Dean’s confession, feeling his heart exploding in his chest, wanting to go out of it.

“I’m all yours and you are all mine.” Castiel declares with some lust replacing the happy tears in his eyes. “The song is already finished.” Castiel observes, looking at the stereo disappointed, while the music has ended a few minutes ago, but they were too focus on each other to notice.

“The song last more than 7 minutes, Cas.” Dean reminds him, chuckling, despite he didn’t notice when it ended either.

“I know, but it’s not enough. I like dancing with you, holding you in my arms.”

“I agree, I like it too.” Dean declares smiling fondly, stroking Castiel’s jaw with one hand.

“We should do that again some time.”

[h-didanart]

KC Ex Machina

[moregraceful]

god bless al gore's tumblr there really is a place for everyone on here.

[quiethauntings]

out of context snippet

thank you @sweetstarryskies for the tag <33

He may have spent the journey considering what to say, but when faced with James—glasses askew and sporting an achingly familiar grin—the first thing that comes out of Remus’s mouth is, “You’ve painted the door yellow.” 

no pressure tags: @poetskings @magicbeings

[pa-pa-plasma]

writing fics is so funny because you'll go into something like "should be easy & quick" & then a month later you're in the middle of a deep dive into mustelids & learning that wolverines are criminally understudied

[quaranmine]

random firewatch au detail that has basically no impact on the story unless you want to psychoanalyze fw!grian even further than i did as the author, but it's very intentional that i always refer to both of mumbo's parents but only grian's mom. did i give him daddy issues? i guess so, but not in a way where i really deeply examined the implications as meaningful to the story. it was just a detail i stuck with from the beginning as a way to keep fleshing out the story's background subtly. the idea behind grian's dual citizenship was always that he was born in america to an american dad and british mom, and that his mom moved back to the UK when he was very young since she wanted to be closer to her family. perhaps his dad didn't go with them? or perhaps his dad did, and then later they split and he went back to america? whatever the cause, grian never even mentions his dad in the story, and it wasn't because i intended him to be dead (because that would have come up in a story about grief) if you get me

[froizetta]

WIP Wednesday: a slightly shamefaced return

It's been approximately 7000 years since I last actually did a WIP Wednesday post, but here's to hoping I can (somewhat) get back in the habit! This is an excerpt from chapter 7 of (Love) Triangles - which will be posted soon btw.

This scene follows straight on from chapter 6, when Superman does an oopsie and collapses from kryptonite exposure. If anyone's been on tenterhooks for the past wondering what happens to him after that, then here's your answer! Spoiler: he's mostly fine.

When Clark drifted groggily and resentfully to consciousness, the first thing he saw was the impenetrable, gunmetal gray of sheet metal.

He felt his face twitch painfully in something that wanted to be a frown. His bedroom ceiling wasn’t covered in sheet metal, last he checked. Neither was his room back in Smallville, or the old break room at the Planet with the good couch.

Where was he?

He tried to sit up, but his limbs were heavy and clumsy. The sudden pain the movement sparked in his head made him collapse back down onto the…bed? That definitely wasn’t his bed either, the mattress was too hard and the pillow too soft and un-lumpy.

“Ohmygod. You’re awake?”

Clark blinked once, twice, then mustered the energy to creak out a, “Yeah, I’m awake. Where am I?” Only he ran out of energy midway through, and his throat was dry enough that his voice was rebelling against him, so it came out as a hoarse, “Yeah m’wake. Wuh?”

Thankfully, the owner of the voice didn’t seem to mind. “You’re awake!” Whoever it was, they sounded excited. Clark heard rapid footsteps, then the too-loud sound of a door slamming open. He winced. “B, get over here, he’s awake!”

The door closed by itself with a click, and he was alone again. God, his head was pounding. He always forgot how much headaches sucked until they happened. He didn’t get them very often, what with the invulnerability and everything. In fact, he only ever got them after he’d—

Oh. That was it. Kryptonite.

The memories were still hazy, but they were coming back to him now. Luthor’s underground lab. The argument, the gunshot, Robin screaming from inside, the soft crinkle of concrete beneath his fingertips. Batman on the floor, Robin mid-dive, the guard with his gun raised, the squeeze of the trigger. He could feel his strength draining even as he moved at super speed, pushed, pushed, pushed, crumpled the gun in his fist, flew Batman and Robin out of there, carefully knocked out the two guards and then a third so she couldn’t raise the alarm. Fast, faster, before he ran out of strength. He’d made it outside to find Batman hugging his protégé tight to his chest, both of them alive and well. Whatever tension had carried him through all that snapped, seeing that. His promise was fulfilled. They were safe.

He remembered watching them for a time, remembered feeling that warm ache he most associated with friends’ weddings and feel-good movies. Remembered the pain and nausea only getting worse with time instead of better, Batman staring at him with blank bewilderment, and then…nothing. Waking up here.

But if that voice he’d heard belonged to who he thought it did, that meant…

“You’re awake.”

Clark ignored the ache in his limbs and head and pushed himself to a sitting position. “Batman! You brought me here?”

Batman handed him a glass of water, which Clark accepted gratefully. “I did. How are you feeling?”

Clark grimaced. He felt weak, he hurt everywhere, and his senses were practically human level. The world felt disconcertingly quiet.

Coming off kryptonite was never fun.

“Not great,” he said. “But getting there, I think.” His eyes dipped to Batman’s chest, where he knew the bullet had hit him earlier: the two cracked ribs near his right elbow, the nasty bruise that had undoubtedly formed over it while he’d been unconscious. “How’s your injury?”

“Seen to. Worry about yourself, you’re the one on the gurney,” Batman said coolly, which Clark thought was kind of missing the point. All Clark needed was some sun and he’d be right as rain. He wasn’t in any real danger, not anymore; Batman’s cracked ribs would take weeks to heal.

He glanced around. The room he was in looked like some kind of medical suite, sterile and silver-white with tiled flooring and a row of neat cupboards on the far wall. Assorted medical equipment was scattered around the room, as well as a small fleet of lamps, all switched on and aimed at him. UV lights?

“Were those your idea?” he asked. When Batman didn’t respond, he clarified, “The lamps. You were trying to give me solar energy? To help me heal?”

There was a brief pause then a nod. “Yes. I thought it would help.”

“Well, you were right,” Clark said. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you know that much about Kryptonians.” Not that Clark had ever made a point of mentioning his reliance on solar radiation, but he hadn’t really been trying to hide it either. Batman had probably pieced it together from interviews or something.

He looked over at Batman. He was still hovering by the doorway, as if unsure whether to come in, though his face and body language were as unreadable as ever.

“Thank you,” Clark said with a smile – or an attempt at one, at least. The result felt a little more strained than he’d hoped. “For taking me to safety and for doing your best to help me heal. I appreciate it.”

“You helped me. I’m just returning the favor,” Batman replied equitably and gestured to the lamps. “But this setup is just my best guess at what would help you. Is there anything else you need?”

“Light in the lower end and mid-range of the visible spectrum is also helpful,” Clark said. “But honestly, this is enough.”

Batman nodded. “Noted.”

“Oh, and it works better if I’m naked.”

There was a pause. Batman’s fingers twitched.

“Naked,” he repeated.

“Yes. Or at least less clothed. It’s easier for my skin to absorb the light directly,” he explained. “So if there’s a next time – which hopefully there won't be – taking my suit off would be more efficient.”

Another pause. Then Batman cleared his throat. “I’ll…keep that in mind,” he said in that low rumble of his. “You don’t need anything else?”

“No, not really, I think I—”

And of course, Clark’s stomach chose that moment to make a low growl. They both looked down at it, and then back up. Batman’s look was particularly pointed.

“Well,” said Clark, slightly sheepish, “now you mention it, I guess I could do with some—”

“Food.”

“If it’s not too much trouble.”

Batman nodded briskly. He was already gone before Clark could even so much as offer a polite thank you.

[dandelion-wings]

Things I should have done today: chores. Things I could have done today: worked on any of my actual WIPs. Things I did do today: write 5k of loosely-connected and wildly wandering snippets of the AU where Fredrica raises Kaeya to marry Jean, omegaverse version, because my 2024 mood is that I can do whatever I want, forever, and today I wanted to do this. I tried to pack in everything @theabysscomeshome and I have kicked around for their teenage years, and almost (if not quite) managed it!

---

Today is a rare occasion: Mother is letting Jean go out shopping with Diluc, *alone*. It's the first time she's been allowed to spend time with him without Mother's supervision since Mother and Father divorced.

Okay, 'alone' isn't quite true. Mother insisted that she take Kaeya along. But she'd given Jean the purse, and told her she was responsible, and Kaeya is so quietly obedient that she can almost forget that he's there. And that the instructions Mother has given her about looking after him are identical to the instructions she used to give regarding Barbara.

Jean won't let him replace Barbara. It would be weird if he did, wouldn't it? He's going to be her mate someday, after all, and her husband, and so he can't also be her little brother--he's just someone under Mother's care, and anyone her Mother is responsible for, Jean is responsible for as well. Even if he's the alpha and she's the omega, Jean is a *Gunnhildr*, and he isn't yet. Won't ever be one the same way that Barbara is.

The same way that Barbara *was*.

Eager for a distraction from that thought, Jean slows in front of the bookstore, pausing to survey the display in the front window. The bright cover of a romance novel catches her eye: there's no question that the woman on the cover is supposed to be Vennessa, even though she's holding a style of sword that wasn't developed for another three hundred years and everyone knows that Vennessa preferred a claymore. She's holding that sword to the throat of a muscular, short-haired woman whose Lawrence insignia is half cut away, and while the pose is aggressive, the painter has put a look in both their eyes that makes it very clear who this romance is between.

"Are you going to buy that one?" Diluc asks beside her, startling Jean from her reverie.

"Of course not." Face hot, Jean tears her gaze away. Her mother would disapprove of her using the money she'd been given for any frivolous romance, but *especially* this one. No matter how compelling Jean finds it. The cover is so well-painted, that's all, Jean tells herself--it doesn't mean she would truly enjoy the subject material, not when a Lawrence is involved.

"There's a new book from Liyue about economics," she says, scanning the other titles on display. "That sounds educational. Mother would approve if we bought it."

She marches inside to do exactly that. Before she can get to the counter, she sees Barbara, browsing hymnals in the company of a nun.

"Big sister!"

Barbara flings herself into Jean's arms, and Jean instinctively hugs her close before remembering they may have an audience. Diluc won't tell, and the nun is smiling, but she still makes herself pull away. If Kaeya sees and tells Mother....

She can't make herself pull away immediately, though. "How are you? Are you making friends at the Church?"

"I am! I'm spending time with the orphans. None of them are as much fun to spend time with as you, though. I miss you a lot."

Jean feels a pang at Barbara's innocent words. Swallowing hard, she reminds herself that she should be mature about this. She can't encourage Barbara to continue to pine for her when they're always going to live apart. "I'm sure they could be, if you give them time to get used to you. If they're orphans, they're probably shy."

"But they're not *you*," Barbara says, tears welling in her eyes. "I really wish you were there. I don't know why you had to go away. And now you have a new brother-"

"He's not my brother," Jean says, fiercer than she'd meant, and hears a sharp little inhale behind her.

She looks over her shoulder to see Kaeya, whose expression flattens as soon as she looks, and Diluc, who goes wide-eyed and grabs Kaeya's hand to pull him away. Heat tingles in her cheeks. He's *not* her brother, though, she reminds herself again, defiantly, he's her betrothed, and that's a different thing. She didn't say anything wrong, or a lie.

"Oops," Barbara whispers, staring worriedly after them. "Is- is Mother going to be mad?"

"No," Jean says, though she knows all her perfectly correct arguments won't matter in the face of being told that Jean was talking to Barbara in the first place. Her stomach sinks at the realization that Kaeya has every reason to tell. Mother will approve of him if he tells, and disapprove of Jean, and if she hurt his feelings, even though that really shouldn't have....

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." Jean reaches out and squeezes Barbara's hand, doing her best to give her a reassuring smile.

"Barbara, dear, I think I've picked out a hymnal," the nun says. "Why don't we leave Miss Jean to her own shopping and check out?"

"Okay," Barbara says, reluctantly.

Jean lets go of her hand just as reluctantly, with one last squeeze, and makes sure to nod politely at the nun. "Don't let me keep you."

The nun takes Barbara's hand and hurries away to the counter, while Jean goes and searches the stacks for the economics text she'd seen in the window. She finds a few simple books for Kaeya, too, ones meant for children, which means he can probably read them. Maybe Mother will be less mad if she can prove that she was looking out for him like she was told.

Diluc and Kaeya are over in the fiction section, heads bent together, whispering furiously. Jean doesn't know what they're talking about, or which book Diluc takes to the counter, cover tucked to his chest like he's hiding it, when she's done with her purchases. He has it wrapped in brown paper before he hands it to Kaeya, who squirrels it away in his jacket with a nervous look at her.

Jean pretends not to see, and doesn't tell Mother, either, when they get home. Either that makes him decide to hold his own tongue, or Diluc bought it as a bribe in the first place, because he doesn't say anything to her about Jean's encounter with Barbara in the shop. Jean is relieved and grateful enough for his silence not to ignore him when he tugs on her arm in the hall on the way to their rooms after dinner and evening drills.

"I'm not trying to be your brother," he says softly, looking down at the floor. "I promise. I know what I'm here for, and that is isn't that. And I know that family is important, even if you can't be with them anymore. I won't... if you want to see her, I can help."

Which is a ridiculous offer. His training schedule is even stricter than Jean's, and even if he had as much free time, he doesn't know anything about Mondstadt. But some of the resentment Jean has felt all day subsides at his words. She nods, and smiles at him, and Kaeya slowly, shyly, gives her a relieved smile back.

***

Once Jean is an apprentice knight, she has more money and significantly more freedom. Spending an afternoon out with Diluc isn't as much an occasion; the apprentice knights are encouraged to spend social time together, it's why they're given twice-weekly free afternoons, so Mother can't do more than make oblique comments about who she spends them with. And having Kaeya along hasn't been an annoyance for some time now.

It's sometimes a convenience, even, when Barbara also happens to be out and about. He's better than anyone at contriving the sort of brief meetings that even Mother couldn't object to, and better yet at finding places for them to talk without prying eyes and discreet methods to get them both there. Which even Barbara, by now, agrees is far better than his strategy of his first year in the Gunnhildr household, when he kept contriving to be injured just badly enough for Jean to have to take him to the Cathedral, but not badly enough for Mother to come along.

If he and Diluc tend to duck off on their own now and then on these trips, too, Jean doesn't have room to complain. It could be a good thing. Mother might not let Kaeya get away with possessive behavior, but all the romance novels she sneaks from the Ordo library make a point of just how strong alpha instinct becomes when other alphas get too close to their mate. If they're friends before Jean and Kaeya ever marry, then Kaeya won't have to wrestle with that instinct in the first place.

She hopes, anyway. She knows better than anyone else just how much Kaeya does wrestle with the instincts that puberty is stirring in him, and that Mother's strict standards aren't the only reason they make him upset. Not to mention just *how* much he enjoys spending time with Diluc on their outings, and why.

*'If you're something other than an alpha, the Church has ways to fix it,'* she'd whispered to him, the night she'd found him crying in the bath. *'Mother isn't so cruel she wouldn't let you, if you tell her what you really are.'*

*'First I'd have to know what I am,'* Kaeya had answered, his expression twisted up in ways she didn't understand. *'All I know is what I'm not, and they can't fix *that*. Besides, I don't plan to leave you in the lurch.'*

He'd looked desperate when he said that, despite his attempt at a smile. Jean could understand. Mother wouldn't stop him from seeking the Church's services, no, but if Kaeya wasn't what she wanted him to be anymore, the well-behaved alpha mate who wouldn't try to dominate the first Gunnhildr omega in uncounted generations.... He's not a Gunnhildr yet. She'd end her guardianship of him and send him to the Church to take a place amid their orphans, or if he was lucky, to live in the Ordo dorms as a rare fostered apprentice. He wouldn't be part of Jean's family anymore.

Jean is selfish enough not to argue with his determination. She doesn't want to lose him any more than he wants to leave. That means that if whatever he *is* under all the uncertainty is someone who can look at an alpha the way he sometimes, when he thinks neither of them are looking, looks at Diluc....

They aren't married yet. He isn't her mate yet. Jean doesn't mind looking the other way and pretending she doesn't see. She just wishes for his sake that Diluc was only pretending that he hasn't noticed.

Out of the corner of her eye she can see Kaeya giving Diluc just that look right now, while Diluc picks through the tailor's display of new Inazuman silks in innocent ignorance. Jean turns back to her own contemplations. There's a beautiful robe here, pale green patterned with purple cranes picked out in charming detail, that she can't resist reaching out to touch. The fabric is smooth under her fingers. She traces the line of a crane's neck, turns over the price tag, then sighs and pulls her hand away.

When she looks back again, Diluc and Kaeya are both watching her. She smiles at them, embarrassed, and puts her hands behind her back.

"Mother would disapprove, wouldn't she?"

"If she doesn't pay for it, she can't stop you," Kaeya points out. "Let her frown at you all she wants."

"It's out of my price range, anyway. I'm going to look at their hair ribbons. I could use a few new ones."

Diluc frowns, but Kaeya shrugs, turning back to the silks and commenting on one Diluc seems to have liked. Their voices fade behind as she moves across the store to the hair ribbons, and she doesn't see them again until she comes to the counter with her selections. They're just ahead of her, Diluc counting out mora as the clerk ties string around two tissue-wrapped bundles. Diluc hands the smaller one to Kaeya before smiling at her and stepping out of her way.

It's far from the first time Diluc has given Kaeya such gifts on these shopping trips. It's a generous gesture, but it's also an *alpha* gesture, a courtship gesture, the kind of kindness that has a weight from alpha to omega or alpha to beta that Diluc probably doesn't even imagine it has here. That it wouldn't, alpha to alpha, if Kaeya was the alpha that everyone thinks.

As soon as her ribbons are paid for, Jean follows them out of the shop, clears her throat, and asks, "Kaeya, can you go ahead to Good Hunter and put in our order? I'm getting hungry, but Diluc and I should stop at the cobblers and see how the new boots for the apprentices are coming along. The Grand Master will expect a report."

His eyebrow goes up, but all he says is, "Of course," before taking himself off.

"Since when is it our job to check on the boots?" Diluc asks her, baffled, though he's heading down the street towards the cobbler's even as he asks. "No one said anything to me."

"It isn't, but Mother will appreciate that we took the initiative. Besides," Jean adds, her voice dropping as they pass a fruit cart, "I wanted to talk to you alone. I think... maybe you shouldn't buy things for Kaeya anymore. I think it might be giving him ideas about- about what you want from him."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Jean doesn't want to confess Kaeya's crush for him, but she forges on with as good an excuse as she can muster. "Kaeya... doesn't like being in debt to people. And- and at your age- for alphas- some of the things people say to him about, um, about us, that he's mentioned or I've heard about- he might think he needs to pay you back a... certain way."

Diluc only looks more confused. "He doesn't have to pay me back at all. It's my allowance, and I like buying things for the two of you with it. He knows that. What way do you mean, anyway?"

"With- kissing, and things." Jean blushes furiously, as much at the mental image of the two of them kissing as at the other word she can't bring herself to say. "Like I said, I *know* people talk like that about... us, and his debt to the family, and he's said some things to me, so I just...."

"Oh. *Gross*. No. Why would I even want that? I'll tell him so," Diluc says firmly. "And if anyone's making him feel weird about it, I'll punch them. The same if anyone makes you feel weird about it, either."

Jean's stomach drops, but at the same time she feels a rush of relief. She doesn't want Diluc to hurt Kaeya, but it has to happen sooner or later, and better that it happen before Kaeya gets too many ideas. And this way, by blaming the gossip that she honestly has overheard, she doesn't have to give up any of his secrets to Diluc. She'll keep those safe, just like he does hers. She'll just keep this conversation secret too, while she's at it.

***

However he might feel, Kaeya is an expert at *pretending* to be an alpha. It actually helps, she thinks, that Mother has spent years drilling into him that he can't be overbearing with her. If he smiles and demurs instead of posturing, and slides his way sideways out of most attempted challenges, and doesn't say a word about anything Jean does when another omega might look to their alpha for approval, then people blame Mother and not Kaeya himself. Mother meets every criticism with a pointed reminder that all dynamics are meant to be equal in freedom-loving Mondstadt, and Kaeya meets any scorn with a smile and an exact echo of her words in a faintly sardonic tone.

In the meantime, Kaeya mimics everything that Mother wouldn't reasonably have stomped out of him with aplomb. Most of it, she can tell, Diluc has taught him. Jean doesn't know when he'd shared that particular secret, or if he even has--Diluc may simply think that he's counterbalancing Mother's repression--but he imitates Diluc's straight shoulders and fierce grin when he does have to accept a challenge, and Diluc's careful backstep to signal disinterest when he's introduced to a new omega, and Diluc's fashion of cupping his hands around her own when he gives her a gift.

Which he does now and then, now that they're dating. The dating itself is a gift, too, Jean is well aware. Kaeya's disinterest in omegas is just as real as Diluc's, and it encompasses her, isn't because of her, despite the public facade that's all that makes those other omegas believe it. But she hadn't been able to keep herself being wistful, this past Windblume, and it must have been so openly that he had caught it, because she'd found herself the recipient of a bundle of roses and the worst poem she's ever read, and he'd taken the calla lilies and heartfelt if clumsy lines of her response with a smile and a cheeky reminder that, as a captain, she could afford better than he could to pay for a dinner out.

It's the least Jean can do to thank him for bothering.

Now that they are dating, Jean tries hard not to look too closely at things she isn't going to buy these days unless she's very sure that he can't afford it any more than she can. This jewelry set, though.... It's ridiculous, heart-shaped earrings and a heart-shaped pendant, set with colored glass in exactly her favorite shade of blue. Mother would disapprove of how cheap it is even if the motif wasn't so childish. Jean couldn't possibly buy something so gauche. No matter that it's cute.

And Kaeya can't buy it for her either. Necklaces are symbolic in ways that Mother would *despise*, and this particular one, with the romantic motif, would be utterly inappropriate for an alpha to give any omega but their mate. Even one they're betrothed to.

"What are we looking at?" Kaeya pokes his head over her shoulder just as Jean had expected, leaning in close. Jean enjoys the press of his shoulder against hers, and the brush of his breath on her cheek; that he means nothing by it doesn't mean that she can't take pleasure in it, so long as she doesn't discomfit him by letting it show. "Oh, that's pretty."

"I can't imagine where I would wear it, though. Mother would have a fit, and it wouldn't be appropriate on missions. It wouldn't be worth the mora."

Kaeya sighs against her ear, and it takes all Jean has not to shiver. "You don't have to talk yourself out of anything you think you want too much, you know."

"I just don't want it that much, that's all. There's no need to blow things out of proportion. And don't buy me a necklace you can't give me," Jean adds in warning. "You know how Mother would react."

"Yes, I know." Kaeya chuckles and leans back again, and Jean fights down a pang at the loss of his weight against her shoulder. "Sister Barbara! fancy seeing you here. You wouldn't happen to know how Sir Taute is holding up, would you? Jean's been worried."

Which is, if not a lie, *mostly* an untruth--Jean knows Taute is fine--but she grasps eagerly for the excuse, turning to smile at Barbara. "Yes, I would like to know."

"Let's step aside, for her privacy," Barbara says, in a cue Kaeya has long since taught them both, and smiles back at Jean as she leads her aside for a private conversation.

It doesn't occur to Jean how much of a distraction that was until hours later, when Kaeya stops her on the front porch to cup her hand and set a small box into it. Jean opens her mouth to scold him, then closes it again when she opens it. She had only told him not to buy her the necklace, after all.

"I still don't know where I'll wear them," she protests, resisting the urge to clutch the little box with its heart-shaped earrings to her chest.

"You can wear them on missions if you pass the Grand Master's uniform test. Which you should ask to take anyway. Half of your earrings dangle, and I know you wish you could wear those more often. You'll pass it with flying colors if you do."

Jean swallows down a sudden surge of emotion and puts the lid very carefully back on the box before smiling back up at Kaeya. "Maybe I will. Thank you, Kaeya."

"You're welcome."

He leans down and brushes his lips against hers in a familiarly chaste kiss, one that sends a thrill through her nonetheless. Jean takes a deep breath, taking in the rich spice-edged fruitiness of his scent, which seems to grow stronger every day. Then she pulls back before she can give into the urge to try and coax more out of him than he wants to give.

She doesn't comment on the second box she feels briefly through his jacket while they're pressed close. Kaeya may be an expert at pretending to be an alpha, eschewing jewelry for more prominent displays of ornate clothes and ornamented hair, but he ought to be allowed to experiment in private without Jean's prying. All her dreams of buying him whatever he *does* like most founder on the realities of their situation, so perhaps it's better if she doesn't know what he spends his mora on when she's not there.

Just as she shouldn't dream of a necklace to go with the earrings, and a claim he wouldn't want to make even if he dared.

***

Mindful as she is of Mother's disapproval, Jean does take advantage sometimes of having her own money to buy things that she knows Mother would never have let her spend her allowance on. The romance novels in particular. It's been years since she's had to skim them quickly in the shop or sneak them out of the Ordo library. Now she can buy them herself, at her discretion.

As long as she has good enough cause. Mother may not object aloud anymore, but Jean can still hear her voice in her head when she indulges too frivolously in some luxury she doesn't deserve.

This week, what she doesn't deserve is a beautiful first edition, with gilt edging on the pages and the author's signature on the frontispiece, of one of her favorite romance novels. She already owns a copy of the book, so it's an utterly self-indulgent purchase, but she'd thought she might have been able to earn it for herself anyway if only her company had come first in the survival games Grand Master Varka has decided the Ordo needs to run.

Unfortunately, Diluc, as always, outdoes her. Very slightly--a handful more points on foraging, which would have been balanced out by her company's better score in scouting if he hadn't made it back to base camp a mere hour before her--but it puts her company in second place, while his is first, and second place isn't good enough. She doesn't need Mother to tell her that.

Mother tells her anyway. "You *cannot* let an alpha outdo you," she says through gritted teeth, an old refrain, as she paces back and forth across their front room. "No Gunnhildr can let themselves be outdone by their peers, and that only goes double for you. Every alpha in the Ordo is primed to dismiss you, whatever excuses they may give for it. That means that you cannot give them *any* to seize upon. We have been over this."

"If it's anyone's mistake, it's mine," Kaeya says, even though he should know better than to interrupt Mother in the middle of a lecture. "I was the one who fumbled the net and lost us all those fish."

"And you cannot let him defend you!" Mother rounds on them both. "Never, *ever* let him defend you. The moment anyone perceives you as hiding behind an alpha, it will be him they look to in order to win your obedience."

"Mother," Jean begins, because ill-advised as Kaeya's words were, she owes him her defense in return.

She never gets further. Mother has significantly more to say, first to them together and then to Jean alone, and afterwards she sends Jean out with the instruction to send Kaeya in. Half of what she says to him is audible through the door.

Jean knows that all this anger is on her behalf, that it covers up the fear Mother has always felt that people will look at Jean as lesser, will disregard her accomplishments because of what she is and how she was born. That doesn't make it any less cutting. She's still raw and smarting by lunchtime the next day, though she makes sure not to let it show when she dismisses her company for their meal and heads herself to the Cathedral on the pretense of checking on two of her knights who had been particularly foolish in the games.

If that route takes her past the bookstore, well, she can look, can't she? Even if it's sand in the wound?

Maybe it should be a relief that the book is gone. The bottom drops out of Jean's stomach, though, and the rest of her day is dismal, only made more so by the discovery that Barbara is in choir practice when she arrives and won't be out before she has to go. She goes through the motions with as much efficiency as she can muster and is grateful for her bed.

She's more grateful still when Kaeya slips in through her window. Mother stopped checking on them after bedtime years ago; Jean still doesn't know if that's out of trust, or because she has some concept of what she might find teenagers up to on their own, not that Jean knows if Kaeya can stomach touching himself in the same way she couldn't resist doing in the rush of all the hormones at that age. If she still does so after he departs again from these nighttime visits, well, she's only overwhelming the room with her own scent to disguise his, or at least that's what she would try to claim if he knew.

"You know I wasn't defending you as your alpha," Kaeya says without preamble.

"I know."

Jean doesn't bother ask if Mother believed him. She doesn't know what Jean does, and Barbatos willing she never will. Not until he and Jean are married, anyway, and Kaeya is a Gunnhildr whether Mother wants him to be or no. Jean is determined to insist that he can present as whatever he is, then, or not present as whatever he isn't, and never mind the Gunnhildr reputation. It will be as welcome to her as it is to him when he stops playing the romantic alpha she wishes for in public.

Kaeya sighs in relief, as if he somehow thought she might not believe him, and sinks down onto her bed. Above the covers, while she's below, but Jean pushes the quilt down a little to bare her shoulder and he nuzzles into her neck as if he's seeking her scent. His own clouds around her. Jean breathes it in and feels herself relax.

"Do you want-"

"*Please*," Jean says, her voice nearly cracking. "Otherwise I don't think I'll sleep at all."

He pulls his face from her neck and leans down to nip at her shoulder, well below the line of her uniform, where no one, even Mother, will notice a mark. Well away from her bonding glands, too, which Jean refuses to be disappointed by. She'll get what she wants once they're married, once, if probably never again, and until then this is kindness enough.

The pinprick of pain as his teeth sink in is soothed by the brush of his tongue. His venom sweeps through her, calming her almost immediately, relaxing her muscles until she's lying nearly limp on the bed. As soon as it eases her tension away, she can feel the exhaustion throbbing in her temples surge forth to start ushering her into sleep.

She's selfish, though. Kaeya is already giving her one comfort, and she still wants another, something pleasant to take into her dreams. They used to do this through letters, hidden beneath matresses and passed back and forth in secret during the day, writing answers before bedtime to titillate each other with their secret fantasies. But they're both braver now, if only with each other. All she has to do is ask.

"If you were a pirate-" Kaeya likes pirates, so much that she's fantasized sometimes about saving up to buy him a tame dusk bird, as if Mother would ever permit such a beast in her house "-and I was a stowaway you found in the hold, what would you do with me?"

"A stowaway, hmmm?"

"A beta stowaway," Jean adds impulsively. "Promised by my family to-" she yawns "-to a powerful mated couple in, hmm, Fontaine, whom I loathed enough to flee."

Kaeya props himself up on one elbow and cups her cheek, running his thumb gently down it. With his venom in her veins, Jean couldn't resist her shiver if she wanted to.

"Well, if *that* was the case, you'd be quite a prize, wouldn't you? You'd have to convince me that it was worth my while not to give you up for a reward...."

He starts to detail exactly how Jean might convince him in warm, suggestive tones. Jean lets his voice wash over her, and as she sinks into sleep, all her disappointment fades away. She doesn't need first place, or that book, or even Mother's approval. She already has everything she really needs.

***

Her future with Kaeya is so certain, so solid a factor in Jean's life that she doesn't realize how fragile it actually is until Mother, with one private meeting and the slash of a pen, throws it all away.

Jean is still reeling as she follows Mother home, her throat hoarse from shouting protests that went nowhere against the united wall of her and the Grand Master and the Seneschal, all furious in different and equally terrifying ways. Mother's fury is quiet, grim, and sharp, and leads her straight to Kaeya's room. She doesn't even seem to notice Jean right on her tail.

She tosses Kaeya's room with vicious efficiency, emptying drawers, flipping his mattress, digging into the back corners of his closet, and then circling back to pry at solid furniture and slit everything soft in search of hidden compartments and stashes. Which Kaeya *has*, as it turns out. Jean is only briefly shocked; she would have hidden some of this from Mother, too, if she'd had certain of his secrets, or even if she'd simply known how to conceal things as cleverly as he has.

None of it, though, is evidence. Mother's frustration mounts as she dumps out jewelry and hair ribbons, toys and harnesses that under any other circumstances would make Jean blush, and books with featureless red covers that even now do. She tosses a necklace atop the pile of earrings and bangles with a snort of disgust, not seeming to recognize the blue glass heart that makes Jean freeze in place, nor note that betraying reaction. While she turns back to the closet, Jean reaches out with shaking fingers and dares to snatch it up. Had Kaeya bought that for himself...?

The back of the closet is full of bedding that Jean knows no Gunnhildr has ever purchased. Most of it is the same shade of pale sky-blue as the necklace, just enough lighter than Mondstadt blue a proper Gunnhildr should prefer that the difference is obvious. None of it has the feather and bird motifs that Kaeya most likes, nor the diamonds that are his second-favorite; there's a duvet embroidered with fine white dandelion seeds blowing in an invisible wind, a scarf with orange tabbies, a pair of pillows with several increasingly pale shades to suggest clouds, a brown-and-green quilt whose interlocking blocks are, she realizes, in the shape of tortoises.... Mother tosses another piece upon the pile, a green silk robe decorated with purple cranes.

"This is nesting material," Jean says aloud, her voice scratchy in her throat.

"He had *ambitions*, didn't he." Mother's lip curls. "Let's both be grateful that his nerve failed before he got that far."

Jean swallows hard. Mother moves on to the closet's top shelf, where the red-bound erotica had been, and pulls out a few more books that she tosses out atop the pile with such carelessness that Jean nearly cries out in horror. All are romances, and every one is familiar, from the old and yellowing one where Vennessa holds a Lawrence at swordpoint on the cover to the fine leatherbound, gilt-edged first edition she hadn't won the right to buy last year.

Kaeya has never cared for romances. These are all to Jean's taste, ones that she had wanted and for some reason or another had never purchased. She doesn't remember the details, but she finds herself certain anyway that she'd either eyed them or mentioned them in Kaeya's presence.

A feeling is stirring inside her that isn't shock, or grief, or even horror. Jean realizes, staring at the hard lines of Mother's back as she jerks a hidden bag out from where it was tied beneath the wardrobe and pours out only mora, that it's defiance.

She takes a step back, then another, then turns and flees the room while Mother is still distracted. Nothing in there is going to be evidence. Not of Kaeya's supposed treachery, nor of the loyalty that Jean can't help but believe in. One way or another, she'll have to find her own.

Mother has discarded enough of Jean's family. She was a child when she lost Barbara, and powerless to act; now she's a woman grown, a knight and an officer, with a Vision at her waist and all the power of her recent promotion at her disposal. This time, Jean won't let Mother throw away someone she loves. She'll get Kaeya back.