Companion Chronicles [Jumpchain/Multicross SI] [Currently visiting: INTERMISSION]

[Tempestuous]

AN: As I mentioned, this was an incredibly difficult chapter to write—or perhaps I should say it was an incredibly difficult chapter to finish. If it was hard to 'write', would I have done so more than half a dozen times? There is no good answer to the question Cass faces.

I think the arguments presented mostly speaks for themselves, but there is one more consideration I have to deal with as the author: the fact that this is, ultimately, a 'text'. Forget the rights and/or wrongs of the situation: I never want to read another story in which a character's arc involves learning to accept their assigned gender because transitioning is wrong and bad, and I have less than zero desire to write something with even the slightest thematic parallels to such. This is awkward because it can put narrative/thematic decisions at odds with diegetic/in-character decisions: no matter how good the argument in favor of granting Cass's guest's stated wish, I will not write such a thing.

The last sentence is technically a spoiler, but if you thought I would actually go that route, you have a lower opinion of me than I'd hope.

 

[Blaflaix]

We're already a very different person than we were when we joined."

Click to shrink...

Changing is a natural result of new experiences.
It might be worth looking at jumps from the perspective of "how do I want to grow from this experience" rather than just powers or desired actions.

Imagine a distant future self, one who has gained the magic and psychic powers required to engineer any combination of gender identification and expression they choose.
"Today I'll be physically female and mentally male, just because."

"I probably don't have to tell you this, but don't ask the question unless you're prepared to accept their answer."

Click to shrink...

This happens so often in stories.
They'll ask some question, and as a reader I'm thinking "There's no good answer to that. Nothing useful. Nothing decisive. Nothing they want to hear or need to hear."

Even worse when it's a limited number of questions and they waste half of them on something useless.
"Why me?" is a common one. It might help them reconcile with their situation, but it usually doesn't help them solve it.

"Why was I the one summoned to defeat the demon king?"
"Because you have heart!"
"..."
"..."
"Well, great. I guess I'll just bludgeon him to death with my heart."
"Hey, you didn't ask how to win."

 

[LordCirce]

This whole conflict really seems to parallel the issue that Cass was grappling with earlier, especially during Star Trek: Are you still 'trans' if you have undergone a 'perfect' or magical transition?

Because mechanically, there isn't much difference, in the terms of 'society can act like trans people don't exist as a result of my transition' from having a magically perfect change in expression and having a perfect change in identity. At most, the Elwick's would have to still face the fact that their child is trans / has transitioned, but as was pointed out in the discussion, making the decision based on how other people will feel isn't healthy at all.

It's definitely a thorny issue, and it is very emotionally gripping to see it being wrestled with.

 

[C_L0cke]

I'm probably gonna get booed from the mountaintops for this one, but I've gotta say it: Presuming the decision is made with proper counselling and informed consent, I don't see a meaningful difference between changing the body to fit the mind, and changing the mind to fit the body. The key phrases in the previous statement, however are "Proper Counselling" and "Informed Consent". The recipient must know what they're doing, and have it sanity-checked by someone with experience and a neutral stance (or the closest available approximation). This might be my own lived experience shading my opinion... I've had a very 'mild' relationship with gender, I feel. I'm very much cis passing, but due to other circumstances, I have very little impetus to actually express gender specific behaviors (neurodivergent, aromantic and ace-spectrum... I've got near zero mating urge, which is, to my knowledge, one of the primary drivers of gender expression "I need to act X-ly so I can attract an X/Y").

 

[Echo]

It bothers me a little that Cass doesn't seem to make much distinction between self-directed voluntary mental alterations and coerced or external alterations. Like, as long as someone knows what they're getting into, your mind and body being your own to do with as you please seems pretty fundamental. In a world where you can effectively make precise surgical alterations to your mind, telling someone "no you can't make that change you want" is pretty iffy, all else equal. The problem here is that the matter concerns a teenager who is very clearly under too much external pressure to be making irrevocable decisions like that. Helping them feel safe and secure enough to make an informed, uncoerced choice should be the priority, I'd think.

That said, offering to do someone a particular favor doesn't automatically imply being willing to do other favors. Even independent of everything else, I really don't see how Cass should have any obligation to actively assist with a hypothetical self-identity alteration. It's perfectly fine to say "I'll respect your decision, but given my own background I'm not comfortable being part of implementing it" or such.

 

[TangledLion]

The last sentence is technically a spoiler, but if you thought I would actually go that route, you have a lower opinion of me than I'd hope.

Click to shrink...

Yeah I figured the chances of it actually happening were slim to none and this was just a chance to wax philosophically about it, something this story excells at. I also like that the situation is messy and uncomfortable because honestly it's a frightening and messy question, and as I said, I've only seen one other story that ever dealt with the idea of a gender identity shift and how frightening it can be.

 

[lostAncilla]

I'm a little concerned what little story there was is disappearing in fits of navel gazing. I suppose this is why jump chains usually have some kind of goal per arc.

Jump chains are usually about high stakes adventure and taking control of the narrative. I don't think we've seen that in a long time.

 

[GiantAnteater]

I'm a little concerned what little story there was is disappearing in fits of navel gazing. I suppose this is why jump chains usually have some kind of goal per arc.

Jump chains are usually about high stakes adventure and taking control of the narrative. I don't think we've seen that in a long time.

Click to shrink...

That was kind of the point, going on a ten year long vacation. But yeah, I miss the adventure too, really enjoyed the Worm part of it. Tempestous's writing is nice, but the story becomes captivating only when there's charged, emotional moments. Large swathes of Star Trek and Breath of Fire felt like filler, for example.

That said, the latest chapters are more engaging, contemplation is interesting to read too, if it has substance and is written well. Which it is.

 

[BagFullOfLizards]

This was a fascinating update, and I wanted to thank you for writing it. This is a difficult question to struggle with and I've appreciated seeing your take on it.

I'm also just impressed in general with your writing here. Writing character development is hard enough, I can't imagine having to write it for myself. That takes an extremely impressive amount of self-awareness and introspection, because the only way I can see to write it is to essentially undergo that development yourself.

Refuse frowned at finding herself back at square one. "I think, ultimately, it just edges too close to mind control," she said, "which is wrong as an axiomatic principle."

"No it's not," Accept countered. "I mean, it's not axiomatic. Mind control is wrong because of the harm it does."

"I meant—sorry, yes, I misspoke. Mind control is wrong under nearly all circumstances."

"Only nearly?"

"I'm sure we could construct some contrived hypothetical situation to justify it if we put our minds to it,"

Click to shrink...

I could see it having valuable therapeutic uses, if used ethically. Take someone with any condition that might give them crippling levels of intrusive thoughts and tell them to stop doing that, or at least stop paying attention to them and worrying about them. Tell someone with chronic anxiety to stop worrying about any irrational fears they may have. Help people break addictions to drugs or gambling or other unhealthy behaviors. Heck, it would probably be useful to implant light compulsions to do things like go to bed on time and eat regularly, essentially giving them healthy habits fully formed instead of having to struggle to build them from scratch.

The knee-jerk reaction against mind control is completely justified in my opinion, based on how it could be abused. And I'm not sure I could ever be convinced that real-life methods were regulated strongly enough to feel safe being subjected to them. But there are arguments to be made that it's not necessarily that different from drugs like antidepressants that could have just as much effect on someone's behavior.

 

[PrimalShadow]

Presuming the decision is made with proper counselling and informed consent, I don't see a meaningful difference between changing the body to fit the mind, and changing the mind to fit the body. The key phrases in the previous statement, however are "Proper Counselling" and "Informed Consent".

Click to shrink...

Like, as long as someone knows what they're getting into, your mind and body being your own to do with as you please seems pretty fundamental. In a world where you can effectively make precise surgical alterations to your mind, telling someone "no you can't make that change you want" is pretty iffy, all else equal.

Click to shrink...

My own thinking is along similar lines; I generally lean on the side of thinking that people should be allowed sovereignty over their selves. So in theory I am in favor of greater freedom, which includes the freedom to change your mind just as much as your body. In practice, however, there is a serious problem here. I'm fully in favor for allowing changes that people give complete and uncoerced consent to, but in the reality we live in neither of those two conditions are likely to be fully met, and that makes things much more dangerous.

By complete consent, I am referring to coherent extrapolated volition - in short, the choices we would make "if we knew more, thought faster, were more the people we wished we were, had grown up farther together". This sort of principle is why we claim that animals, young children, or someone under the influence is not capable of truly consenting - because what choices they make now are unlikely to be representative of the choices that idealized versions of themselves would make. That said, this also applies to everyday human adults; very few people would claim to be their ideal selves, after all. It is far to easy to find people making choices that a better versions of themselves would overrule. Speaking personally I experience this in my own life on a regular basis, anytime I procrastinate on an important task, or grab an extra snack that I don't really need, or get impatient with a loved one, or stay up too late, or... well, you get the idea. Fully complete consent is unrealistic. Still, for major life changes, we'd like to at least come close - and that is hard to do and harder still to verify from the outside looking in.

By uncoerced consent, I mean something that one desires based purely on their own intent, and not because of external pressure. If someone put a gun to my head and asked me to hand over my wallet, I would do so. An ideal version of myself would do the same (after all "ideal" here is in terms of decision-making ability, not bullet-resistance). But as a society, we don't want to honor such consent because doing that encourages coercion in the first place. Right now, if the mugger asked me to write them a check for my bank account balance, I would do it and then later call my bank and tell them, at which point they would void the check; thus, muggers don't demand that their victims write them checks in the first place. Thus, as a society we say that coerced consent is NOT true consent, exactly so that abusers can't use leverage over their victims to affect them further. The issue here is that our world is highly interconnected and it is entirely normal for people to have power over each other. We can and do ban the use of physical power for coercion, but what about financial power, or bureaucratic power, or emotional power? Now things are more complicated, and we can't void consent every time there is a power imbalance in play without making life unlivable. So what ends up happening is a balancing act. For example, an employee can agree to work for an employer, despite the fact that there is a financial imbalance in play - but they can't agree to waive their right to worker protections. If we required perfectly uncoerced consent, most people wouldn't be allowed to work for their employers - but if we didn't have any restrictions on what people can consent to, then we are back to seeing factories burning down with the workers locked inside.

So that is the problem. If we say "sure, you can make whatever changes you want to your person", then suddenly a lot of people will make decisions that they would have regretted later, and a lot vulnerable people get exploited into making major changes they don't want in the first place. The potential for harm is enormous. Yes, if you do things carefully and well you might be able to minimize said harms - but caution is strongly called for.

 

[VaporWare]

"I… I want…"

They paused, took a couple ragged breaths, and whispered:

"I want to go home."

Click to shrink...

The thing that concerns me most here is the impression I get from this moment. This? In the context of what we know about their parents, feels like internalized abuse rearing up from a knot of difficult emotions. A cognitive will-o-wisp, offering a falsly clear light in the fog to guide them back into the mire.

As a species humans are very good at getting very comfortable in destructive circumstances. Changing them mentally (or even physically) to be cis might help alleviate the pain they're feeling about being trans, but remaining with their natal family leaves them in the care and company of people who don't appear to think about them at all beyond what they represent as a prized child to be cultivated according to a particular image.

That is, irrespective of the issue of their child being trans, the parents in this situation are far more concerned with defining their child's identity for them than discovering their child's identity with them. Teaching them what to think and be, rather than how to think and be. And that's not something fixing one problem, no matter how big an elephant in the room that problem might be, is going to change. Especially now that it's already a long ingrained habit on the part of the parents.

I am compelled to note that this is a phenomenon that is not unique to the experience of being trans, for all that being trans may throw it into sharper clarity than being cis might. There's a cultural archetype, currently pejoratively referred to by the name 'Karen', which has historically encompassed some of this. Parents concerned with raising their children to be perfect little careers so that they can vicariously succeed at some personal dream they abandoned in the course of becoming parents. Daddy's little football star, Mommy's ballerina, pushed to strive for prizes and recognition their parents couldn't earn to pay the debt of raising them.

The Kid's parents have a desire to have a perfect daughter according to a particular set of ideas about what a daughter should look like, and that's not going to go away whether the Kid is more comfortable being a daughter or a son. Staying with the parents means accepting their implicit demand that their child sacrifice their self-determination for their parents, as a projection of the parents sacrifice of self-determination for the child.

Setting aside the ethical questions of tinkering with someone's identity as a means to alleviate suffering, I think there's something to be said for not letting someone actively trying to quit an abusive relationship backslide in a moment of pain because setting a break hurts more in the moment than the chronic ache of the wound.

I think an overlooked universality of the trans experience, and something the people who fear it most are often most in need of understanding, is that we are all ultimately transitional within our lives. From moment to moment, becoming someone else, something else. Every day we are a little more who we are becoming. There's a pathological tendency in human culture generally towards seeking An Answer. The perfect way to be. The simple, clear solution. It guides us to the comfort of old, bad habits, and in that comfort blinds us to our own pain. The anesthetic quality of the good old days, before we knew what hurting could be. Before we noticed the ache or understood that we were bleeding. It's always easier to define ourselves as our best selves, to have been right all along, than to acknowledge what is wrong and strive to become better.

Irrespective of what other determinations the Kid must ultimately make about themselves, their identity and how they express that identity, I hope they find a way forward to who they will become without getting dragged back into their parent's crab bucket. For that matter, I hope something in all of this wakes the parents up and helps them move forward more constructively in their lives and the lives of those they ostensibly care about. It's not the most realistic outcome, but I hope all the same.

But I digress and belabor the point. I hope Cass can help them, and herself, find their ways forward in life.

Thank you for the story and the thoughts it both contains and provokes.

 

[Goatpile]

I am by no means a psychologist, and my sources on this are from the youtube videos from TheraminTrees , especially on double-binds. so take this as personal amateur opinion.

To me the kids ability to even give consent in a meaningful way as C_L0cke defined is frankly undermined by the ongoing and continuous damage caused by abuse. VaporWare put it fantastically. The decision to mentally change WHO you are instead of WHAT speaks to me of internalized self-loathing and the reflexive denial of their own will, desires, and interests in favour of their parents, the abusers.

Its common to see abuse victims, especially to narcissists, to be highly in tune and aware of the desires and moods of their abuser, and act to preemptively satisfy them as a way to delay (always only delay) further hurt. their own interests are undermined as "selfishness" or "nonsense" and twisted to service the abuser as responsibility for the abuse is laid to the victim. ("you made me do this." "you should have known." "why can't you just be a girl?")

this mindset becomes integrated as constant self-depreciation and lack of initiative and self-worth. They think they as a person are wrong, worth less than others and need to be changed. even when removed from the harmful relationship the habits are so ingrained that abuse victims often continue to orient themselves on those around them. They often are lost and don't even know what they want because it never mattered before. Formulating and expressing their own desires is difficult because it was always punished or led to conflict.

I see the kid being lost, with Cass well meaning reassurances to just do "what they want" to leave them lost in freedom they have no experience navigating. pointing out some Paths, giving some options or (oh no) specific questions on preferences could have given some framework for them. left adrift, they want to return to a predictable, understandable pain in a moment of weakness.

I do not think someone in that situation is in the right mind to make permanent life altering decisions. Thats why I thought that Cass rushed the reveal of magic and the offer to transition WAY TOO fast. Its an understandable mistake given Cass background and focus on Trans matters, as this is the problem she feels more qualified for. but MC making mistakes makes this story so interesting.

 

[dhasenan]

Taking another look at Cass's mistakes:

• Not forcing the kid into therapy. This is the one error that I think was potentially unrealistic due to her experience with the Wards. That was a rather different type of relationship, though; she's not going to use professional detachment with Nameless Kiddo.
• Offering the kid a permanent transition so early. Nameless Kiddo isn't really ready for that. A temporary "try it out" version would have been no commitment, so it would have had a lot less stress associated. Or starting HRT to see the mental effects. Or making an illusion or illustration of what he could look like in masculine form. In-character; she got a permanent version immediately and loved it, so it makes sense that she'd jump to that option. She'd already worked through her traumas by then, though, and had committed to transitioning, and she neglected the importance of that. She has the "like it was yesterday" memory perk that isn't retroactive, though, so she's got potentially several years of uncertainty whose importance she can't entirely appreciate.
• Assuming the kid was already mature and knowledgeable enough to come to reasonable decisions about very important things. This is extremely in-character; Cass has traumas related to her own lack of autonomy and disrespecting other people's autonomy.
• Ignoring the effects of long-term abuse. Her Wards experience should have helped here, but when she joined, the Wards were doing less, and they didn't have to make big decisions.
• Not reaching out for help with parenting and such. She's been a bit distant, so there's an emotional hurdle to get over for asking most of them, but Jenn is an example of someone with a traumatic childhood who could offer an inside perspective. Deeana could also help out between her training and experience as a counselor and her psychic / empathic powers, even if she's not directly treating Nameless Kiddo. But I think Cass doesn't fully trust her. There should be a few people on the crew with parenting experience, though, so she could have asked them for advice. Or heck, she could have gotten a therapist native to the jump for parenting advice. Still, this is a very common type of failure.

I'm really appreciating how character-appropriate most of the mistakes are.

 

[Tempestuous]

AN: Beta-read by Carbohydratos, Did I?, Gaia, Linedoffice, Zephyrosis, and Mizu, plus special guest consultants Lyrisey and HorizonTheTransient!

Chapter 116: Acceptance​

---

Monday came, and my charge woke up, went to school, and returned home to their room in the same sulk they'd been in all weekend. Clearly, it fell to me to break the silence.

My opening gambit was to cook their favorite meal. It was a transparent bribe, but if nothing else, I'd've done something to make them happy.

"Dinner's ready!" I called.

No response.

"I made curry!"

No verbal response, but the apartment walls were on the thin side, so I could tell they were moving around.

After what was probably less than a minute (but felt much longer), my housemate finally emerged. They hovered at the border between kitchen tiles and hallway carpet; I hovered between the counter and the table.

Of course they knew we would be having a Talk; how could we not?

"Hi," I said.

"Hey."

Silence disturbed, we sat down to eat. I portioned out rice and curry—a mild korma with chicken and vegetables—onto three plates and passed the largest portion across the table.

It was some time before I finally bit the bullet and prepared to start the conversation, only for them to preempt me the moment I opened my mouth.

"I'm sorry," they bit out, their voice somewhere between 'huff' and 'whine'. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm not your perfect little trans kid, so can you just… skip the lecture?"

I closed my mouth. Swallowed. Started over.

"This isn't a lecture," I said. "Look, um"—I stumbled over where I would have called them by name if they were using one—"listen, I want to hear what you have to say, too. I want this to be a conversation, not a lecture or a talk or… whatever."

"What about her?" they asked, jerking their head towards Homura. If I were sitting at the 12 o'clock position around our kitchen table, they'd taken the 6 o'clock seat, while Homura was at 9—and also the only one who looked at all enthused with the food.

"I don't have any insight to offer," she said.

They accepted her 'input' with a roll of their eyes and turned their attention back to me.

"I do want to hear what you have to say," I emphasized. "I don't—I mean, I have a lot to say, but it's not… how do I put it? I want you to understand where I'm coming from, but I'm not here to tell you what to think. That's why this is a 'conversation'—I want to listen to you, too."

"So you can pick apart my reasoning?"

"No, I…" I stopped and took a deep breath. "I haven't done the best job as a stand-in parent, have I?"

"Not my mom," they muttered around a mouthful of rice.

"Okay, yes, I'm not your mom, but that's the role I took on when you moved in." My reply drew a grunt, but they didn't argue further, so I continued, "I've been trying to treat you as an adult, but I've ended up acting more like a friend than a parent, even when I should be more… you know. Parental."

"You mean you should have been making more decisions for me."

"No," I stressed. "That might be what your parents did, but that's not what I'm talking about. I meant that I should be a bigger part of your life than I have been. I've been trying to give you space, but I think this whole… thing could have been avoided if we'd connected better."

That finally got more than a syllable out of them. "How? How would being 'there for me'"—the quotes were strenuously audible—"fix the fact that you're just as stubborn as my parents about who I should be?"

"Because I'm not," I said. "At least, I'm trying not to be. This has been hitting a lot of buttons for me, you know? It's a sore subject in a lot of ways."

"Really?" they asked, the word draped in doubt, then shoved a forkful of food into their mouth as though daring me to ask them to speak further.

I ate a forkful of curry and rice as well, then began the half-formed spiel I'd been running through my head all day.

"On Saturday, you asked if magic meant I wasn't trans," I said. "I asked myself the same question when I got my magical transition. If I was perfectly 'physiologically' female, was I still trans in any way that mattered? And the thing is, that question… is stupid. 'Being trans' isn't about our bodies, it's about our experience of deciding our presented gender is wrong. Now, I know that's not how people talk about it. It's… have you heard the term 'cisnormativity'?"

They shook their head.

"It's the idea that our culture considers being cis to be 'normal', and if that's the case, then being trans is abnormal, and that label leads to all sorts of implicit transphobia. There's a lot of explicit bigotry, sure—western culture holds up nearly every aspect of gender nonconformity as 'Not Okay' because, again, 'abnormal'—but there's also all these subtle ways we're told to think about ourselves. Even the people who try to support us tend to look at us with pity—heck, even the discourse within trans communities tends to reinforce the notion that we are pitiable, like being trans is a personal tragedy, like cancer or something. It's this pervasive idea that trans people are only ever going to get 'close' to our identified gender, and we'll always be stuck with the 'scars' of trans-ness, the parts of our body that medical transition doesn't change—"

"But that's true," they interrupted. "I'd never get my body 'right' without magic bullshhh-crap! They can make something that looks right, but I'll never have a real… you know."

That was… fair. Maybe I hadn't given the differences between transitioning one way or the other enough thought. There was a case to be made that not having a functioning penis wasn't an issue unique to trans men any more than not being able to bear children was unique to trans women, but that argument wouldn't win me any credit here.

"With modern medicine, there are differences between cis men and trans men, and cis women and trans women," I admitted, "and some of them are going to be… less than ideal. But the majority of them shouldn't matter as much as they do. It's our transphobic society that tries to relegate us to second-class examples of our gender by defining us by our bodies. Because every little difference is another way we fail to be 'normal'."

"Well then maybe you should fix society with magic!"

"I wish it were that easy."

I paused to take a drink and eat some of my rapidly cooling dinner.

"So," I continued, "the point I'm trying to reach is that one of the reasons I was so against the idea of changing your gender identity is that it feels like accepting the assumption that being trans is somehow worse than being cis—that in an ideal world no one would be trans. And that idea is just so… so viscerally repugnant to me that I balked. It brings to mind 'conversation therapy' and all those other wackjob 'treatments' that are mostly an excuse to torture queer people for the sake of torture, so… yeah. I balked."

They stopped eating, such as it was, and scowled down at their plate. "So you won't do it."

"I don't like it," I said. "But I'm trying to keep an open mind. I'm willing to be convinced, if that makes sense?"

I didn't get a response, so I took a moment to actually eat some of the curry I'd been mostly ignoring. I had nearly a minute to not enjoy my food before they spoke again.

"You really never thought, 'Boy, this would be so much easier if I was cis?'" they asked.

"I did," I admitted. "Back when I first realized I was trans, I had the same thought—that it would be a lot easier if I could just be happy as a guy than go through the whole process of transition."

"Not much of a process when you've got magic."

"I didn't have magic at that point, remember?"

A grunt.

"By the time I did, though," I continued, "I'd decided I liked being a girl. I relate to girls more than guys, and even when I was totally convinced I was a cis man, my likes and interests tended to be more 'girly' than 'manly'. I mean, it's not like I'm one hundred percent gender conforming—I'm probably not even fifty percent—but as a person, I express myself best as a girl—"

"I swear to god, if you tell me I need to try being a guy for a year—"

"No, no!" I waved my hands around to arrest that train of thought, accidentally flinging a few grains of rice from my fork on to Homura's blouse in the process. "I'm not going to put arbitrary goalposts in your way. Though… I have to ask. You said you'd been looking forward to transitioning for a while, right?"

A grudging nod, as though I'd forced a confession out of them.

"Then I am a little curious why you wouldn't even try it. The minimum duration only lasts an hour, and you could use the Button to go back earlier if you didn't like it, so… why not try?"

The question hit a nerve; they stopped eating entirely, shrinking in on themselves in a doomed effort to disappear before my eyes. For a long moment, the only motion in the room was Homura continuing to act as though this were a normal family dinner.

"I don't want to like it," they muttered. "I don't want to be trans. I… I know it's transphobia or whatever, but I don't want to find out I like being a boy. It's like you said, right? It's not normal."

Internalized transphobia was a bitch.

"Is that why you want to 'be cis'? To be 'normal'?"

I'd been asking merely for confirmation, but the question put the fight back in them. "Of course it is!" they snapped. "I don't want to have to deal with other people's bullcrap! Sure, you can magic me into the right body, but unless you're gonna make everyone forget who I used to be, everyone's gonna remember I'm supposed to be a girl!"

External transphobia was also a bitch—and yet I couldn't escape the feeling that the real problem was that they would remember.

"There are ways to deal with that," I said. "We could enroll you in a different school—"

"I don't want to change schools again."

"It'd be a bit of an antic, but we could try enrolling you under a different identity in the same school…"

"Or you could let me be a girl, like I asked. Are you actually going to change your mind, or are you just trying to make me stop ignoring you?"

"I don't know if I'll change my mind," I answered. "I'm trying to stay open to the possibility."

They huffed, considering the answer as good as a 'no'.

"I did some research, actually," I continued. "About what it would be like if you did change your gender identity. I wanted to be able to tell you what it would look like if we went through with it."

"Really?"

I chose to interpret that as an invitation to continue rather than doubt over my sincerity.

"There is a spell for it," I said. "It's uncomfortably close to mind control, which is another reason I'm not thrilled by the whole thing, but it exists. But you have to understand that gender identity isn't just about what body you're comfortable in. It's a whole interconnected 'thing'."

"You mean like how hormones make you feel different?"

"That's part of it. You'd experience emotions differently—and I don't just mean compared to you as a trans boy with more testosterone, I mean you'd probably experience emotions differently than you do now because your brain would expect the hormones your body produces naturally rather than being wired for a different combination."

"Is that real?" they interrupted. "I always thought that was, like, hyperbole."

"It's not true for everyone, but it happens," I said. "That's true for most of these things, though. It's all 'probably's and 'many people's, you know?"

Another shrug, just to show they were listening.

"Personally," I continued, "I'm more concerned about the social differences."

"Like what?"

"When you see people separate into a group of boys and a group of girls, which group do you think you'd feel more comfortable joining?"

They continued poking at their food for a few seconds, brows furrowed.

"The boys, I guess," they admitted.

I nodded, having expected that answer. "That would probably change. It could even affect your hobbies because you'd want to spend time with a different set of people. I know you said you don't have many friends at school—"

"Any," they interjected. "I said 'any' friends."

"—but it's quite possible you wouldn't want to be friends with the people you were friends with before."

"But it's not like I'm going to be a different person, right?"

"I think you would be," I said. "That's what you've asked me to do: to make you into a different person who's happy with being a girl. That doesn't mean you won't be 'you': people are always changing. The real question is 'how?' and 'how much?', and the answer is that personality traits don't happen in a vacuum, so making you happy with being a girl would cause changes to other traits, some large and some small. Those sorts of ripples and splash damage are what I wanted to warn you about."

"And if I accept that, would you let me actually do it?"

"If it were really your choice, I'd accept it."

They glared at me, having seen the 'but' coming a mile away.

"But it's not your choice, is it?" I asked. "It's what other people want you to do."

"It's definitely not my choice if you don't give me one!" they snapped. "Ah, I knew this was a waste of time. You're not going to listen."

"I am listening, but what I'm hearing is that this isn't about what you want at all."

They threw their fork down onto their plate with a snarl. "So that's it? I answered wrong, so you close the gates?"

"Part of being a parent—or guardian," I added when they opened their mouth to un-mom me again, "is stepping in when someone is going to make a bad choice—"

"It's my choice!"

"Is it, or is it your parents' choice?"

Whatever rejoinder they had died in their throat; after a few seconds of silence, they grudgingly picked their fork out of their curry and cleaned the sauce off the handle before pecking at their food once more. I gave them a moment to find their voice, if they wanted to say anything more, before returning to what I was saying.

"As your guardian, it's my responsibility to stop you from making decisions that would hurt you, now or in the future," I said. "I'm trying to stop you from making a mistake—and I really believe it would be a mistake. If I didn't really believe that years from now, you'd look back on this and think, 'I'm glad she put her foot down,' I'd be approaching this completely differently."

"Dad thought I was making a mistake, too," they said.

"His starting assumptions sucked, though."

They snorted. "Yeah."

I risked a smile, for all that they still wouldn't look me in the eye; ragging on their parents had rekindled a speck of good humor in them. Unfortunate that I'd dash it almost immediately.

"Speaking of your parents," I said, "I don't know them very well, so I don't know how they'd react to your… change of heart, if you did go that route. Were they making you act extra girly just because you'd expressed a preference for being male? Would they be happy enough that you're staying a girl that they'd let you be a tomboy?"

Their reaction was telling: they drooped in their chair, 'agitating' their curry rather than even nibbling on it as they had been before.

"I don't know," they admitted. "It's not like they ever listened to me before."

That was more or less what I was afraid of.

"I was just…" They trailed off, then shook their head. "This sucks. Sure, maybe I can stay a girl and go home, but at best things will go back to how it was before I outed myself, and it's not like they were great parents then, either. Bleh. I don't want to have to transition. I don't want to deal with transphobic bullsh--crap, or well-meaning overly supportive bullcrap, or any of that crap. It's stupid. But…"

'But' indeed.

We spent the better part of a minute poking at our food, neither finding much enjoyment in the activity.

"Can I ask you a stupid question?" they asked after a chunk of meat finished its third circuit of their plate.

"Sure."

"Would you rather change my mind so I was happy at home, or change my dad's mind so he let me be me? You have to choose one or the other, that's the question."

My first instinct was to reject the premise, but I spotted a loophole. "If I could convince your dad to respect your choices, I'd do that, obviously."

"That's not what I meant!"

"Well, I reject the idea that mind control is ever the correct response to a situation."

They pouted and crossed their arms. "Fine. Say, what if I gave my dad the same challenge?"

"What challenge?"

"The one he gave me. You know, turn him into a girl and make him 'deal with it' for a year the way I had to."

That was an easy 'no'. "Non-consensual body alterations are also never an acceptable response."

"It'd teach him a lesson, though, wouldn't it?"

"It's wrong regardless," I said.

"It was wrong of him to make me do it, too!"

"That is absolutely true, but I will not encourage eye-for-an-eye gender horror."

"Gender horror?"

"You know, like body horror, but for gender instead of turning into a bug in your sleep."

Their eyes widened. "Ah, shi--i--ip. Does that happen?"

"No, it's—nevermind. I guess you didn't study that in literature class."

"Kafka's Metamorphosis?"

I frowned across the table. "You were just messing with me."

"No, you had me wondering if it was based on some real, hushed-up magical incident."

"As far as I know, it was not."

"Good." They took a perfunctory bite of their curry and added, "I'm sorry."

As far as I was aware, they hadn't done anything worthy of an apology. "What are you sorry about?"

"You know," they mumbled. "About saying I wanted to go home."

"You don't need to say sorry for that!"

"But, like…" They left their fork on their plate and waved their hand about aimlessly. "You've worked so hard to make me feel at home, and I just—I spit all over that."

"No, that's not—listen." I held up a hand for attention. "Yes, I've tried to make you feel at home, but I'm not out to replace your family. I can't, and it would be an insult to you to try. So you never, ever have to apologize for missing them—or anything else you might not have here, okay?"

"But—!" They cut themself off with a huff. "It's stupid. Nevermind."

I mulled over my response carefully before saying, "It's fine if you don't want to bring whatever it is up, but if it's something you really need to talk about, it's not stupid."

"It is stupid," they insisted. "I was upset because I miss my parents, okay? Even though they were really crummy parents, vacations were when Mom and Dad would actually go through the motions of parenting—especially Christmas vacation, 'cause Christmas time was Family Time, whatever that meant. And it's stupid because you do that every day—you cook and help me with my homework and take me out shopping and watch TV with me and… that's all stuff Mom and Dad barely bothered with, and they were horrible to me anyway!"

They dabbed at the moisture in their eyes with their sleeve before yelling, "So why do I miss them so freaking much?"

If I didn't know how much they valued their personal space, I'd have gone over and wrapped them up in a hug, protests be damned.

"Because they're family," I replied. "Families are supposed to support each other. Of course you'd want them to be there for you."

"But they never are!"

"But you want them to be, don't you?"

They didn't reply.

"At the end of the day, it's the people closest to you who you look to for help," I said. "It doesn't have to be your birth parents, or even a caregiver, necessarily, but there's always going to be someone you want to tell you, 'Good job', or 'I love you', or even just 'Good morning'. Those are the people we call family… and that's why no one can hurt us as easily or as deeply as family can. They can hurt us by doing nothing because we rely on them to do something, and walling them out doesn't fix the problem because the problem was an absence in the first place."

The wet sniff from across the table indicated I may have gone a little too deep into the philosophy of family trauma. I remained silent as they wiped at their face with their napkin, letting them continue when they were ready.

"Well, I still need to say sorry because…" They paused and squirmed in their seat. "I said I liked you less because you told me you were trans."

I took a deep breath and released as much tension as I could from my hands and shoulders because this was a rough topic at the best of times.

"That's not actually what you said," I reminded them. "You said, 'I hate that I'm less comfortable with you', and that's a sentiment I can get behind. Internalized transphobia is every bit as awful as the most vitriolic bigot—maybe worse, because it's something you carry with you everywhere. The thing is, you can't start dealing with it until you acknowledge it. I'm not upset that you brought it up; I'm proud of you for recognizing it was a problem."

"That's laying it on a little thick."

"Fine. I'm gratified that you're aware of it."

They hung their head and muttered, "I didn't have to say it, though."

"Well, maybe, but in this case I'm glad it's out in the open for us to discuss. If you want to discuss it, that is."

"Not much to discuss."

I shrugged. "Maybe so."

They frowned at their curry for a moment before noting, "You keep saying 'us' when you talk about trans people, you know."

"Sorry. Would you prefer I not include you?"

"I don't know. I don't want to be trans."

I nodded. "Who would, in this society?"

"Well, you're making me be, so…"

"I would say that I am refusing to let society stop you from being trans."

"What's the difference?"

"If I thought you really wanted to be a girl for its own sake rather than letting other people tell you what to be, we'd be having a very different conversation."

"Maybe I do."

"Do you?"

I was encouraged when they took the time to consider the question.

"If I tried being a guy for like, an hour or whatever, would that help convince you I wasn't only doing this for other people?"

"It would make your position a lot stronger."

They let out a long, frustrated sigh.

"Maybe you have a point," they said. "I feel like I fit in with guys better. Not just hobbies and stuff, but I'd rather spend time with guys, like you said. And like, I could do it as a girl—I've done it, like, with D&D and stuff—but I wouldn't mind getting to join a D&D game without being 'the girl at the table', you know?"

"I think I understand," I said. "All other things aside, you wouldn't mind blending in better?"

"Something like that. Trading misogyny for transphobia… actually, would I even have to put up with transphobia if no one knows I'm trans?"

"It wouldn't be directed at you, but that doesn't mean it won't hurt when you come across it."

"Hmm." They frowned at their meal, lost in thought. "On the other hand, it's not like I only like 'manly' hobbies, and having a guy do girly things is even more 'noticeable' than a girl doing manly things."

"It's your decision."

"You say, after making me doubt everything about it."

"Sorry."

"No you're not. You didn't want me to do it in the first place."

They were right: I wasn't sorry I might've changed their mind. Maybe I should have been.

"But maybe you were right, so…" They shrugged. "I don't know. It's all so fridged up."

"It really is," I agreed. "And I probably should have mentioned this sooner, but I have no reservations whatsoever about finding magical solutions for your dysphoria as a separate issue from your identity."

"Why didn't you lead with that?" they demanded. "Yes, absolutely do that!"

"It's not the same thing as making you happy with being a girl. There's—"

"It'll still be better," they interrupted. "Will you do that, then?"

"If you want me to? Absolutely."

"Yes, please."

"Consider it done."

We returned to our meals for a few seconds; once it was clear they didn't have anything else to add, I asked, "Can I ask what led to the question about changing minds earlier?"

"You reminded me how much my parents suck."

"Oh."

"Makes you look great by comparison, though."

I frowned. "You know that implies that I'm only great 'by comparison', right?"

"Yeah? That's the joke."

"Funny."

"I try."

They went back to their meal with something approaching their usual enthusiasm, and it wasn't long before they'd cleaned the plate.

"More curry?" I offered.

"Yes, please." They passed me their plate, and I scooped more rice and curry onto it and pushed it back to them. We moved to lighter topics and didn't return to 'gender-related' things until they'd polished off the last of their second helping and pushed the plate away with a contented sigh.

"That was great."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it…" Again, I stumbled at the point I'd address them by name. "Uh, I'm not saying this conversation is 'over and done with', but is there something I can call you? Even if it's just until we settle things?"

"If you let me stay a girl, you could just use my real name."

"Do you really still want to become a girl?" I asked. "Because I think it would be 'becoming', not 'staying'."

"I don't know," they whined. "I just… you're right, I only asked because I want to be 'normal' instead of 'weird', and I know that's not a good reason, but… it would be so much easier! But I also didn't spend years surviving my parents just to give in and let them tell me who to be, either! And the whole 'become a different person' thing isn't exactly comforting."

Their rant ran out of steam, leaving melancholy in its place. "I don't want to obey people who hate me for who I am," they muttered, "but I don't want them to hate me, either."

"The latter is their problem," I said. "And I think you'll be surprised how many people aren't in that category. It surprised me when I came out."

They hmm'd an acknowledgment that very carefully avoided any trace of agreement or disagreement.

"So…" I stretched the word into a question. "What should I call you? It doesn't have to be your final answer, but surely anything would be better than 'hey, you', right?"

They (he?) stared through the table for a few seconds, fingernails tapping out a steady rhythm, before letting out an impressive sigh. "I've had a name in mind for a while—like, a male name—but I kept trying to find another one because I don't want people to think I just, like, named myself after a 'cool' character."

I didn't stop the small huff of laughter at his self-consciousness. "So what? That's what I did."

"You named yourself after a character?"

"Yup." I shot him a cocky grin. "Who's gonna tell me I can't?"

"Rolins?" he guessed. "Is it 'cause you kinda look like her, or was it the 'Rolins is a transgirl' memes?"

I swear I could hear the old Windows error sound echo through my brain as my confidence encountered a critical failure, and all I could think was

Oh, no.

"That… wasn't who I was thinking of," I said slowly, keeping a straight face mostly by virtue of supernatural politeness.

"You've seen the show, though, yeah?" he insisted.

"No."

"Aw, really?"

"Yeah…?"

He took my assent as invitation to explain, "There's a popular theory that this one character is a trans woman—well, it started as a fan theory based on what was probably a continuity error, but last season—"

"I know the story," I interrupted, perhaps a little more forcefully than was natural. "What name were you thinking of?"

"What? Oh, right. Uh…" He fidgeted for a second before finally saying, "Luke."

"That's a good one. Want to try it?"

"Yeah. Err, yes, please."

"Sure thing, Luke."

Luke waited for me to continue, then added, "Thanks for not making any jokes."

"It didn't seem like the time."

"Yeah."

"That said, if it ever is the time for gratuitous Star Wars references, all you have to do is ask."

"I won't."

"We'll see, Luke."

He harrumphed.

I stood up and began stacking the plates. "Finish your homework yet, Luke?"

"Almost done. I'll finish after this."

"Sooner is always better," I said, "but I was thinking… do you want to try the magic wand first?"

"The one that turns me into a boy?"

"Yeah. You could finish your homework like that if you want."

Luke rubbed his chin for a moment.

"On the one hand, it's going to really suck having to go back to normal for school tomorrow. On the other, yes please turn me into a boy right now."

"Sure. One moment." I accio'd the Button back from its place in the hall closet, which had Luke's eyes go as wide as they had the first time. "Here you are, Luke."

"Thanks. Wow, that really does feel right. Ugh."

"What?"

"You might be able to resist Star Wars jokes," he said as he fiddled with the knobs, "but I'm afraid a lot of people won't. Like, 'specially with my relationship with my dad and all."

"Afraid?" I repeated. "Fear leads to anger…"

"Noooo! You said you weren't gonna do that!"

———X==X==X———​

"How do you feel?"

Luke stopped poking at his chest for a moment to consider the question.

"Weird," he said. Then, "Woah. Oh, wow, my voice sounds weird."

"Good weird?"

"Sure, I guess?" He was already distracted with the hand-mirror, so that was the only answer I was going to get at the moment.

After all traces of dinner had been tidied up, Luke had changed out of his school clothes into something that wouldn't be uncomfortable before or after messing with the Button: a loose t-shirt, boxers, and sweat-pants, all of which Homura had produced from nowhere when he'd raised the question.

"I…" Luke began. "I don't know how I feel about this."

I stepped up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I think I know how you feel," I said. "Even after I got my 'magic transition', there were moments where I'd think, 'this is wrong', or 'I shouldn't be doing this', or 'I shouldn't like this'. All the learned transphobia flaring up and insisting that I shouldn't be happy as a girl."

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Yeah. It's… it's what I want, but it's not what I should want—err, it's not what I'm supposed to want? It's not what people want me to want?"

I nodded. "People have spent your whole life pounding the lesson that you're a girl into your head, and that anything else is wrong and you shouldn't do it. It's going to take time for that to fade, but it does fade."

A glance at the mirror he was holding let me see his frown. "Another reason transition sucks."

"Yeah. Internalized transphobia sucks. But you shouldn't let it control you any more than you let other people's external transphobia control you."

"Easy for you to say," Luke grumbled.

"I know it is. Life is always hardest in the moment. But you will get through it."

"Yeah…" He didn't, or couldn't, feign confidence. "It's just hard, you know? And I know the easy way is giving up. It's just… I keep thinking about what could have been, if only I hadn't been trans. It doesn't even matter which way it would have gone as long as I hadn't… like, it might not be a 'personal tragedy' or whatever you called it, but it's still made my life worse. A lot worse. And I know you're probably thinking, 'it's not being trans that did that, it's other people', and you're probably right, but it's still crap."

"I know."

"But I guess living with my parents would've been crap anyway, so maybe that's just life being unfair."

I nodded. "At least things are getting better, right?"

"Maybe. I still have to go to school tomorrow."

I frowned to myself as I thought.

"How do you want to handle that?" I asked. "Are you going to keep going to school as a girl?"

"I'm definitely not coming out!" Luke stressed. "I guess… if my dysphoria's dealt with, and I can be 'like this' at home, I can probably tough it out 'til college?"

"If you're sure."

He scoffed and shook his head. "I'm not sure about anything. But I can change my mind later; I can't take back coming out."

"If there's anything I can do…"

"Yeah, I'll tell you, I get it." He turned his head to side-eye me. "I… thank you. For… you know." A hand pointed at his chest. "This."

I smiled.

"You're welcome."

———X==X==X———​

 

[Tempestuous]

AN: A little bit 'late'—though still well within the range of posting times—because I had to stop and write this AN at the last minute. Generally, I'll jot down a thought or two while writing the chapter, then turn it into an AN near posting time, which usually isn't too much of a challenge.

Usually.

At any rate, here you have it: the "resolution" of this particular plotline. In a way, this was 'inevitable'—as I said in a previous AN, I would never write a story where changing a queer person into someone 'socially acceptable' was the correct answer. Some people might argue that a foregone conclusion cheapens the story, or makes it pointless, but if it made you stop and think about the question, even for a second, then I would argue that that is the point.

I accidentally spoiled Luke's final name choice in a previous AN; the hazards of writing these after the fact, I guess.

Having Cass go out and ask the Jumpchain 'What's the difference between being a man and a woman?' put me in the uncomfortable position of having to answer that question, but it's an obvious enough step that I couldn't think of any reason for her not to take it, so answer it I did. Hopefully it's neutral enough and hedged behind enough 'results may vary' disclaimers to avoid offending.

 

[Blaflaix]

"Speaking of your parents," I said, "I don't know them very well, so I don't know how they'd react to your… change of heart,

Click to shrink...

"I can't let you change your mind."

"Why not?"

"Because then your parents would be vindicated. It's bad for parents to get everything they want. It make them spoiled and they won't grow up to be responsible adults."

"..."

 

[Echo]

"Rolins?" he guessed. "Is it 'cause you kinda look like her, or was it the 'Rolins is a transgirl' memes?"

I swear I could hear the old Windows error sound echo through my brain as my confidence encountered a critical failure, and all I could think was

Oh, no.

Click to shrink...

That ridiculous show being brought up will never not be the best thing.

I've seen the "author SI in a multicross turns out to also be fictional elsewhere" gimmick done before and I have to say that this is absolutely, by far, unquestionably the best implementation of it I've found.

In a way, this was 'inevitable'—as I said in a previous AN, I would never write a story where changing a queer person into someone 'socially acceptable' was the correct answer. Some people might argue that a foregone conclusion cheapens the story, or makes it pointless,

Click to shrink...

Realistically, a lot of the art of engaging storytelling is making obvious foregone conclusions seem exciting and unexpected despite that. There's a reason why subtle foreshadowing is considered good writing while sudden genre shifts or jarring plot twists generally aren't.

 

[TangledLion]

"Rolins?" he guessed. "Is it 'cause you kinda look like her, or was it the 'Rolins is a transgirl' memes?"

Click to shrink...

Gawd... I still can't get over the fridge horror of the idea that Cass's transness is left out of the show ant the truth only peaks through in other realities as a "Continuity error"... Just, fuck that must still be hard for her...

 

[adaira]

Yeah.. that's it for me. That was way too uncomfortable to read. I just can't agree with Cass at all here. She's no different from the dad.

 

[veteranMortal]

Gawd... I still can't get over the fridge horror of the idea that Cass's transness is left out of the show ant the truth only peaks through in other realities as a "Continuity error"... Just, fuck that must still be hard for her...

Click to shrink...

or the other, more horrific option - she is only trans because of a continuity error.

i. being fictional would fuck me up i think.

 

[dhasenan]

Yeah.. that's it for me. That was way too uncomfortable to read. I just can't agree with Cass at all here. She's no different from the dad.

Click to shrink...

She would have accepted Luke saying he wanted to be a girl after all, but only if the reasoning were that he would be more comfortable in that role assuming he didn't have to deal with bigotry. Also she's not abusive. That's two ways in which she is far better than Luke's father.

I vehemently agree with requiring him to have motives rooted in reality. Turning him into a cis girl in the hopes that his family of origin would suddenly be nice would have been a severe disservice to him. I think it would have been tragic if he'd chosen to be a cis girl to avoid bigotry and social troubles. But he wasn't leading with that argument. It wasn't his main problem. And while he is moved by that cost, he still wants to be a guy enough in the end to resolve to summon the courage.

 

[Goatpile]

Even if the conclusion was foregone, the story and journey how we get there is what keeps me engaged. its what makes it a story, and not a report.
In "john dies at the end" by David Wong, John, you guessed it, does die in the end. whats interesting is how we get to that point.

I found the image of Homura calmly leaning back and eating her curry from the sidelines during the entire conversation a hilarious image. and of course, Mecha Engineer Rolins Strikes again!
I liked these little nuggets of humor, and I'm glad you managed to tie this plotthread up. The story has been reflecting and navelgazing for the last few chapters. so a return to a little more action and doing things would be welcome.

 

[Tempestuous]

AN: Beta-read by Carbohydratos, Did I?, Gaia, Linedoffice, Zephyrosis, and Mizu.

Chapter 117: Social Calls​

---

Moperville University had its Spring Break a week before Strawfield High, which I learned because of who showed up in the shop that week: none other than Grace and Tedd, two of the earliest members of the comic's cast and the longest-lasting canon couple. Tedd, I'd met around five years earlier, though 'met' was about where that interaction had ended. He'd changed quite a bit in that time, and could change a lot more at a moment's notice given his access to shape-shifting magic items. He looked 'normal' today—for lack of a better word—which meant he was a lanky, androgynous young man with short-cropped purple hair.

I'd never met Grace—she'd appeared in Moperville two or three years ago, if I remembered correctly—but appearance and context let me recognize her. She was also in her 'normal' form—that of a dark-skinned girl with long brown hair—but as the cast seyunolu, the character illustrating the Greater Chimera traits I'd taken myself, she had more shape-shifting options than even Tedd did. And if the decidedly odd look she gave me when they reached the counter was any indication, she could tell something was weird about me, too, though I wasn't sure how.

Well, I'd cross that bridge when she brought it up. I was more curious about why they were here in the first place.

"Welcome to Home Sweet Home," I called as they approached the counter. "Nice to see you again, Tedd."

His polite smile gave way to a look of mild surprise when I addressed him by name. "We've met?"

"Years ago, at a 4th of July barbecue. I'm not surprised you don't remember." I grinned to show I wasn't bothered. "I am surprised you're here, though. What brings you to Strawfield?"

"Well, it's Spring Break, and you're not that far away, and…" Tedd took a deep breath to settle himself. "Cassandra, right? Can we talk?"

A quick look around showed the shop wasn't busy at the moment, so I could put up the 'Back in a Moment!' sign and invite them into the back if they wanted to talk magic.

"Sure," I said. "What about?"

"Zeke, your cousin."

"Ah." It was, indeed, about magic. "I'm afraid I can't help you."

I took a second to check if Grace was still giving me that odd look, but she'd been distracted; her nose was currently inches away from the display case. "It all looks sooo gooood," she whispered, breath misting on the glass.

"It is," I said. "Would you like something? You're family friends, so it's on the house."

Tedd started to decline, but Grace beat him to the punch by requesting half the display case. It took us a moment to narrow her selection down to a single item—a slice of apple tart—which I delivered with a flourish.

"So good," she mumbled around her first bite.

"I'll pass along your compliments." I turned back to Tedd. "Would you like something as well?"

"No thank you." He hesitated, then asked, "Do you know what your cousin actually does?"

"Yes, I do. That's why you wanted to speak privately, I assume?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, then. Let's talk in the back, shall we?"

Grace had already finished her tart—no small feat considering the portion-size-to-time ratio involved—so I took her plate back, put up the Be Right Back sign, and led them into the back hallway. The door from the customer side of the shop floor opened up into the hallway elbow bend, which was probably as good a place to stand around talking as any.

I wasted no time once we'd gotten as comfortable as one could when standing in a bare backroom corridor. "Right," I began. "To get this out of the way, yes, I know my cousin works for your dad at the Paranormal Division of the FBI, assuming no one has been promoted, demoted, and/or transferred in the last couple years. I also know that you're a seer and your girlfriend is a seyunolu, and I suspect she knows I am also a seyunolu. Are we good so far?"

"Uh." Tedd blinked at me. "You're a seyunolu?"

"Yes."

"And you could tell?" he asked Grace.

"Um… no?" she said. "Why did you think I could?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You gave me a really weird look when you came in."

"Oh. That." Grace dropped her eyes to the floor. "I was just thinking that you… um, nevermind."

As curious as I was, there was a good chance pressing her would only embarrass both of us, so I let it lie. "If you say so. Any other questions before we get to what brought you here?"

Tedd asked, "How did your parents get a Uryuom egg?"

"I have no idea." Ignorance was an awesome excuse.

"Roaisol or tulougol?" Grace asked.

"Tulougol." 'Tulougol seyunolu' literally translated as 'Greater Chimera' from Uryuomoco, hence the title of the perk I'd taken.

"That makes 'having an egg' make more sense," Tedd said. I supposed it did; the distinction between a 'Greater' and 'Lesser' Chimera was whether or not one (or more) of the parents was an Uryuom. "You had a human mother, I'm guessing?"

"I did." Multiple, though none in this 'verse.

"Do you know her?" Grace asked.

"This is getting a little personal. Can we move on?"

"Sorry. Uh…" She twiddled her fingers for a moment, then asked, "Can I see? You transform, I mean. I've never met a seyunolu who wasn't part of my family."

That was an invitation to show off as much as anything, so I said, "Sure," and shifted into the half-human-half-fox form I'd started the Jump with. "Human and fox, though you could probably have guessed."

I found myself surprisingly gratified by their (lack of) reaction. From Tedd's response, I might as well have taken off a jacket, while Grace said, "Cool," and changed into her own half-human, half-squirrel form before giving me a closer look.

"How come you aren't all fuzzy?" she asked after a moment's inspection.

"Because something out there has a sense of humor, I imagine." I flicked an ear in exasperation. "People keep calling me a kitsune."

"Well, you do look like—" Tedd cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"Don't worry, I don't mind. Nothing to be sensitive about when it's pretty much stating the obvious." I absentmindedly poked at the 'anime-esque' hair antennae now sticking out from my bangs. "Say, Grace, can I ask a question?"

"About being a seyunolu?" she guessed.

"Yeah."

"Sure!"

"Can you use your telekinesis without your hair antenna?" I poked my hair again.

Grace's eyes crossed slightly as she focused on her own antennae. "No. Why?"

"Because I can." The Jump document hadn't made any mention of the antennae on the Telekinesis perk, and it looked like Weird Jump Powers worked according to Rules As Written rather than Perfect Consistency With The Universe. Then again, Telekinesis hadn't been seyunolu-only, had it? Couldn't exactly require antennae when there was no guarantee someone would have them.

"Weird," Grace said. "Um, I think? Maybe I'm the weird one."

"No, I asked because I'm pretty sure I'm the weird one."

"Does that mean you can always feel everything around you even without the antennae?"

"Only if I'm actually telekinesis-ing something, and even then it's only a little. Nothing like when I have the antennae out." Thankfully; the full experience was a bit intense.

"Hmm."

Grace was now thoroughly distracted, so I turned back to Tedd and the reason he'd come. "So," I said. "Zeke."

He'd been content to fade into the background while Grace and I compared notes, but the name spurred him into motion. Tedd stood up straight and proud as he declared, "We're trying to find him! The PD said there's nothing there to find, but I'm not going to accept that! Zeke is out there somewhere, and we're going to keep looking until we get him back!"

It had the cadence of a rehearsed speech, which suggested he'd had practice yelling that at people.

"Didn't Mrs. Vahn talk to you about this?" I asked, holding back a sigh.

Tedd pouted. "She doesn't want me doing dangerous experiments—they weren't even that dangerous!—but I'm just looking for clues! No one from the PD interviewed you after he disappeared, did they?"

"No, they didn't, but I would've gone to them if I knew anything that would help."

"Well, maybe you don't know you know something!" he said. "Zeke's my friend! If he needs help, I'm not just going to sit around and do nothing while he's lost in another universe!"

I sighed. The sad thing was, Tedd was probably right; odds were good Zeke could really use some help right now.

"I'm sure he would appreciate that," I said, "but you can't do anything for him right now."

"You don't know that! Why is everyone so eager to give up?"

"It's not 'giving up'—"

"Yes it is!" he snapped. "No one's even trying! Why doesn't anyone care?"

I decided to make a mistake.

"Look," I said. "You didn't hear this from me, but the truth is, Zeke isn't exactly 'lost'. We know where he went; we just can't do anything about it."

Three different shades of confusion crossed Tedd's face before he asked, "What? That doesn't make any sense. Why would you keep that a secret?"

"Because it leads to a lot of other questions, like 'How do you know?' and 'Why can't you do anything about it?' and so on."

"So?"

"So it's better not to raise questions you can't answer."

"Aha!" Tedd exclaimed, one finger held skyward in triumphant objection. "If you don't know why you can't do anything about it, then how can you be sure you can't do anything about it?"

That wasn't what I meant by 'can't answer', but I wasn't about to correct him on the specifics.

"Because of how it happened," I said instead.

"That doesn't explain anything!"

"That was intentional."

He went back to glowering at me for a long moment.

"Does Mrs. Vahn know you know something?" Tedd asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know anything she doesn't."

"What does she know, then?"

"Nothing useful, just that magic can't help get Zeke back because it wasn't magic that made him disappear. That's why there was nothing for the PD to find when they investigated."

Tedd's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'it wasn't magic'?"

"Well, how would you describe magic?"

"Magic is a form of energy that allows for the violation of the accepted laws of science," he recited.

"Right. Well, this isn't magic because it's not energy, or a force, or anything like that. There's no 'action' or 'effect', just…" I snapped my fingers. "Change."

"What else would be? Reality warping?"

"For our purposes, yes."

"Like how Zeke got here in the first place?" Grace chimed in.

"…yes," I agreed, surprised by the question.

Tedd was equally surprised.. "What do you mean, how he got here?"

"He said he was from another world, remember?" She looked down and started finger-twiddling. "I asked him about it, and he mostly dodged the questions, but he did say that he'd been put here, and that it wasn't magic that did it."

"So, what are you saying?" he asked, rounding on me again. "Whatever brought him here decided it wanted him back, and we can't do anything about it?"

The accuracy of his sarcasm caught me off guard. "Well, yes, actually. That's more or less what happened."

"How do you know?"

"What else would it be?"

"Anything?" he suggested. "If 'not magic' is possible, there's no reason to believe it's unique."

"That's true…"

Tedd didn't let up. "But you said you were sure, so how do you know?"

"It didn't bother to hide its tracks."

"Then why didn't the PD find anything?"

"It's an outside context problem for them."

"But not for you?"

"We know enough to recognize it, but we can't do anything about it, or we'd have done that."

"How do you recognize it if no one else has ever seen it before?"

"Because…"

I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose with one hand. Fuck. Should've stuck with ignorance. What had I expected, that he'd go, 'Oh well, can't do anything. Guess we'll go home.'? This was Tedd; there was an exactly zero percent chance of that happening.

"Okay," I said. "You want the full story on Zeke?"

So I told him.

———X==X==X———​

"So let me get this straight," Tedd said after a long detail- and name-free explanation of The Story Thus Far. "The infinite multiverse theory means that for all fiction, there is a universe somewhere where those events happened. One day, some extraordinarily powerful interdimensional god-like being got bored and started shuffling some guy from universe to universe because they wanted life-action self-insert fiction, and that person took along other people he met along the way until a whole bunch of them showed up here, Zeke among them. And now whatever weird Q-stand-in is in charge moved Zeke and company somewhere else, and there's no way for us to get from our dimension to wherever he is using magic because magic is limited to only our subsection of the multiverse?"

"Succinct," I said.

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Uh… not really? It's pretty absurd."

"It's more than 'pretty' absurd!"

"It's the story I have?" I offered. "There's a reason I didn't lead with it."

"Is there any way for me to verify any of that?"

"Not that I know of."

"Great," Tedd grumbled. "Why bother telling me if I can't check your story?"

"Because you kept asking and wouldn't let me dodge the question."

He scowled. "That is a reasonable answer and I hate it."

"We should ask your dad about this," Grace suggested.

"Please don't," I cut in. "I shouldn't have said anything in the first place."

She gave me a reassuring smile. "We won't mention you—"

"Don't mention any of it," I begged. "Please. The number of people who could've told you is very short."

"You mean the 'list' of people is short," Tedd corrected me. "Or the number of people is 'low'—"

"You know what I mean!" I scowled and folded my arms. "I really should've feigned ignorance, so please don't make me regret trying to give you a better answer than 'I don't know'."

"Why does it matter?"

"Because telling your dad wouldn't do any good! Even if he believes you—or me, or Zeke, however you want to put it—the only thing that would accomplish is making a bunch of people very upset over something they can't change. Why do you think Max—that is, Mrs. Vahn kept silent in the first place?"

Tedd huffed and crossed his arms, refusing to meet my eyes.

"Will Zeke be okay?" Grace asked.

That, at least, I could answer. "Yes, he will. You can count on that much, at least."

"How do you know?" Tedd demanded.

"His 'benefactor'"—finger quotes—"is too fond of him to let him die."

The two young adults shared a bewildered glance.

"Well," Grace said, "that's, uh, good?"

"Assuming it's true," Tedd pointed out.

I shrugged helplessly. "It's all the reassurance I can give you. I'm sorry."

Tedd waited a few seconds longer—perhaps hoping I would reveal the whole thing to be a long, unfunny joke—then hung his head. "There's really nothing we can do, then."

"I'm afraid not."

"Will he ever come back?"

"It's… unlikely."

He turned away and rested his forehead against the wall; Grace put a hand on his shoulder, then pulled him into a hug. It should have occurred to me earlier that for all intents and purposes, I might as well have told them Zeke was dead—but hey, there's an afterlife, honest!

I wouldn't have been thrilled either.

———X==X==X———​

"Everything okay?" Luke asked that afternoon.

"Of course. Why do you ask?"

"You seem gloomy."

"Ah." I looked up from the manuscript I was reading. "I'm fine. Just had to deliver some bad news earlier, that's all."

"What about?"

"Family stuff."

"Oh." He went back to his homework without prying.

I turned a page. "Spring Break is coming up."

"Yeah."

"Any plans?"

"What would I be planning, exactly?" Luke asked. "I'd rather stay inside like this than go anywhere." Meaning 'male', which was how he spent all his time at home.

I lowered the manuscript so I could give him a look. "You can go outside like that, too."

"Yeah, but…" He blushed and hung his head. "What would people think?"

"Probably something like, 'Oh, look, a student on Spring Break.' You don't have to introduce yourself." Strawfield was a small-ish town, sure, but there was no way anyone knew every high-school kid, right?

Luke replied, "Mm," which was as good as a 'no' to my suggestion.

I went back to reading and occasionally making notes in the margins. Paul had dropped his new rough draft off a few days before, and I'd read through it for comprehension the same night; now, a few days later, I was doing the 'editing pass'.

"What're you working on?" Luke asked. "That part of the family stuff?"

"No, this is a draft a friend of mine is working on."

"A draft of what?"

"A novel."

"Oh. Cool." He paused to leaf through his textbook. "What kind?"

"Fantasy."

"Is it any good?"

I made another note. "I like it so far, but it needs some editing."

"And that's what you're doing?"

"Sort of? He's got real editors, now, but he likes to know what I think anyway."

"Ah."

I decided to move the conversation towards Luke and his hobbies. "Say, speaking of fantasy, how's your D&D game going?"

"Slowly. I think people are losing interest." Luke sighed. "Online roleplaying is kind of a drag, IMO."

I hid a grin behind the manuscript. "Did you just say 'IMO' out loud?"

"GDIAF."

My grin turned to a glare. "I know what that means," I scolded him.

"What?" Luke asked, feigning innocence for all he was worth. "It means, uh, 'Don't judge'… wait. Crap."

"Nice try." I let him sweat for a moment before switching to teasing. "Is your bluff skill that low, or was that just a natural one?"

"Very funny."

"Hey, I'm amused."

Back to the manuscript, where I underlined a joke I particularly liked and sketched a laughing face in the margin.

"What happened to the people you used to play with?" I asked. "In person, I mean?"

Luke shrugged helplessly. "They were my classmates. I changed schools in the middle of the year, remember? Well, not the middle, but you know how it goes. Didn't even get to say goodbye, really. Dad was breathing down my neck, so I couldn't say much more than 'sorry I had to change schools in a hurry, can't answer questions, bye'. Besides, it's not like I could visit without Mom and Dad's approval anyway."

"Oh," I murmured. "That sucks."

"No kidding."

I reached the end of the page and lowered the manuscript again. "If you want to reconnect with them, I'd be happy to drive you into Apoapolis."

Luke shot me a suspicious look. "In the van?"

"No, I wouldn't make you ride in the van."

He spun his pencil around to tap the eraser against the page he was working from, staring off into space for a few seconds before shrugging again. "Thanks, but… it's okay."

"I'm offering."

"Nah," Luke repeated, shaking his head. "It's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Like, I should probably say 'hi' online and stuff, but it'd be pretty weird to visit years after I vanished."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm not saying you should just 'show up'. I'm saying that if you want to reconnect, maybe meet up, I'm available."

"It's fine. This is better than roleplaying." He raised the pencil and tapped his chest.

"You can leave the house like that, you know. Heck, going to another city might be better than just going outside."

Luke dropped his pencil onto his book, followed shortly by his face.

"I can't," he groaned into the pages. "I don't act right. Even when I look like a guy, I still act like a girl."

"It just takes practice," I reassured him. "I can help, if you want?"

"No. Wait, actually…" Luke raised his head to give me an appraising look. "You grew up as a man, right? You think you could teach me?"

"I'd be happy to try, but it'll probably be less 'teaching' and more… 'advising'? I'd probably be more helpful with things like, you know, skills. You haven't stayed as a guy long enough to need to shave your face, have you?"

"I know how to shave," he said. "It can't be that different from shaving your legs."

"Well, if you need help, just ask."

"Sure, whatever." Luke picked up his pencil and went back to work.

I went through two more pages before I found myself breaking the silence again.

"Say, Luke," I began, "we kind of dropped it after that big… I'm gonna be diplomatic and call it a 'discussion' we had, but are you still thinking about wanting to live as a girl?"

He shook his head. "No, that'd be letting my parents win. Besides, being a guy is great."

"But you don't want to leave the house as one?"

"Let me live my life! Jeez."

"Okay, okay. Sorry."

Luke turned his attention once more to his books. I'd just begun to do the same when he spoke again.

"You ever play D&D?" he asked.

"I have."

"What editions?"

"Three-point-five, four, and five."

"Which did you like best?"

"None of the above?" I said. "There are a lot more systems than just D&D."

"What system did you like best, then?"

"Hmm." I'd played tabletop RPGs before joining the 'chain, but I'd never had as much fun as I'd had between Jumps. "I'd say my 'best' roleplaying experiences have been homebrew LARPs."

"You LARP?" Luke asked, clearly incredulous.

"Yeah. Don't judge me."

"I'm not judging, I'm just surprised."

This time, I did roll my eyes. "Did Megan not show you the pictures she took of me cosplaying? Me being a nerd shouldn't surprise you."

"Still! LARPing is… like…" He made a gesture that failed to convey much of anything.

"Niche?" I suggested.

"Super niche. Like, it's niche for roleplayers—that's like niche squared."

"Roleplaying isn't that niche anymore."

"It's still pretty niche."

It wasn't worth arguing the point. "Which version of D&D do you like best, then?"

Luke didn't need to think about the question at all. "I think three-point-five is the superior system, but all my best stories are from four."

"Like the magic knight inquisitor?"

"Yeah, like him. He was one of the figurines Akemi rescued, you know."

"I saw." He'd set them up on his dresser.

"Cool."

I made it through two more chapters of Paul's next novel—bringing me into the denouement—before Luke spoke again. "You ever try writing? Like, fiction?"

"Some. I was pretty prolific as a little kid—like, little—but I stopped when I got older."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know. Maybe my standards rose faster than my skill."

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"I mean the more I learned about writing, the more I realized how far away I was from professional authors, and childish enthusiasm could only take me so far."

"Yeah, but some professional authors are really bad at their jobs."

I chuckled. "I know, but no one wants to grow up to be a bad author, right?"

"I guess."

"Have you done much creative writing?" I asked.

"Only if DMing counts."

"I think it does. It's definitely creative."

"Not really 'literary', though, is it?" Luke asked, then moved on before I went and answered his rhetorical question. "What'd you write? Like, story-wise? When you used to?"

"I don't remember too well. I grew up on Redwall, so I sort've tried to imitate that, I guess?" I frowned at my vague, muddy elementary-school memories. Like I'd told Zeke, I'd more or less entirely clammed up around third grade, at least as far as the written word went, which meant no more writing for me, creative or otherwise.

But there was one exception, wasn't there?

"Now that I think about it," I said, "I think the longest thing I ever wrote was a backstory for a D&D character."

It shouldn't have surprised me that that sparked his interest. "Cool!" Luke said. "How long was it?"

"I don't know. Longer than it needed to be, for sure."

"Do you still have it?"

"I don't think so." Technically, I 'had' it on my computer in another universe, but I didn't have access to it.

"Aw."

I arched an eyebrow his way. "What's that for?"

"I wanted to read it," he said. "Do you have old backups of your stuff anywhere?"

Even if I had access to the document, I wasn't keen on letting anyone see it. "It's probably not very good. I wrote that a long time ago."

"How long ago?"

"Long ago."

"Ah." Luke cracked open another textbook. "Well, you should see if you still have it, even if you're not gonna share."

"So that you can nag me into showing you eventually?"

"So suspicious," he grumbled. "I get if you don't want to show me something you wrote as a kid. I just think it's a bummer to lose stuff you made, even if you're not proud of it or anything."

"Oh. Yeah." When he put it like that, I realized I would be rather upset to have 'lost' it, if only because it meant something to me at the time.

"Back to Spring Break, though—"

"I'm fine."

"There's nothing you want to do? Nowhere you want to go?"

"Honestly? No, not really. I'd rather stay inside where I don't have to worry about how I present."

I twisted around on the couch so I could beam directly at him. "Come on, Luke, think about it! This is your chance to go somewhere no one knows you and talk to people you'll never see again. We can go to Hawaii, or Europe, or… anywhere."

"What about the shop?"

"We're closed all next week."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

Luke scratched his head. "You don't have to close the whole shop to take time off, do you?"

"Akemi is coming, too."

"Oh." He waited a moment to see if he'd successfully distracted me, and after realizing he hadn't, continued, "What would we even do in Europe, anyway?"

"That'd be up to you. We could go sight-seeing or just relax, or a little of both. There are some great beaches in Italy—"

"You want me to go outside in a swimsuit?" Luke yelped. "No way. No, no, no, no, no."

"Suggest somewhere else, then."

"Mars."

"No."

———X==X==X———​

I was still clocking in hours every weekday at Home Sweet Home, manning the register while Lizzie cleared tables, cleaned spills, and—as of a couple weeks ago—flirted with Andrew, who stopped by to loiter during her shifts a couple days a week. I had to step in and remind her she was on the clock every so often, but she was generally a good employee and the entertainment I got from teasing her about their mutual interest outweighed the bother of having to play manager once in a while. So when Lizzie went and chased him out the door herself near the end of her shift one day, I had to ask.

"What happened?"

She let herself back behind the counter so we weren't gossiping across the store, only to fold her arms and grumble, "He asked me on a date," loud enough for the entire shop to hear.

"And you don't want to date him?" I asked, wondering if this counted as 'leading someone on'.

"Obviously I want to date him!" Her tone implied my guess had been ridiculous.

"Then why are you so unhappy?"

"Because he did it while I was at work!" Lizzie whined. "You never ask someone out while they're at work!"

I raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe not 'never'," she allowed, "but definitely not for service jobs! You don't come into a restaurant to get a date! Or a bakery, or coffee shop, or whatever—you don't do that!"

That was a good rule to live by, but I wasn't sure Andrew deserved all of the blame. "I'd say the same for flirting with the wait-staff," I observed, "but it looked to me like you were encouraging him."

"Because I wanted him to ask me out! But he shouldn't have done it here!"

"Where else do you see each other?"

"I have a phone?" Lizzie whined. "We have each others numbers from when we both worked at Ino's, and if we didn't, he could've at least waited until I clocked out. It's not like he has somewhere to be in the next ten minutes! It's just—argh! I completely disapprove of how he asked me out but I also want to go on the date!"

"Lizzie. Elisabeth. Breathe!" I reached out and put my hands on her shoulders, bending down just enough to put us at eye level. "I think you are, perhaps, acting just a tad irrational here."

"Of course I am!"

"Look—" Wait, did she just agree with me? "Huh?"

"Of course I'm acting irrational!" Lizzie yelled. "I finally got asked out on a date by a guy I like after, like, two years of completely striking out, but in the worst possible way! I'm having flashbacks to that time in middle school when Brett asked Danni to go to a dance by hitting her with a paper airplane in third period!"

I withheld comment on the anecdote. "Did you say yes or no?"

"I should've said no, but he's hot and I am weak."

I closed my eyes for a moment because I would have almost certainly rolled them otherwise. "Then how about this? Use the date as an opportunity to discuss your issue with his breach of etiquette and set expectations for the future."

Lizzie perked right up. "Yes! I'll do that. Thanks, Cass, you're awesome."

"Uh… right." I let go and backed up until we had a proper amount of personal space between us. "Your shift is over, so… see you tomorrow?"

"Same time!" She gave me two thumbs up, walking backward to maintain eye contact until she'd backed through the door and into the hallway beyond.

That probably wasn't your proudest moment, Liz, I thought as I turned back to the shop-full of customers pretending they hadn't heard her entire side of the conversation, but that's okay. We can be thirty-year-old teenagers together.

———X==X==X———​

Andrew came back for a second opinion about half an hour before I was due to clock out for the day.

"Hey, Cass," he said once he'd reached the counter. "Can I ask for a second opinion real quick? As a friend?"

"Sure," I replied, still focused on the fresh cookies I was putting on display. I was pretty sure I knew what this was about, but I still asked, "What's on your mind?"

"If a guy you'd date decides to ask you out, would you care if he did it while you were at work? Uh, to be clear, this is a hypothetical, I'm not asking you out."

"Good," I said, "because Lizzie had a point. This is not a good environment to ask someone for a date."

Andrew let out a theatrical sigh. "She already got to you, didn't she."

"She didn't 'get to me', I was there."

"Oh. Right."

What am I, furniture?

I finished messing around with the cookies and closed up the case. "For what it's worth, I did tell her she'd given you an invitation, but you still could've picked a better time and place."

"What's the problem?"

I set the empty tray aside—we had enough that a few could collect here and there—then leaned an elbow against the top of the display case and rested my head on my hand. "Look at it this way. If you're standing here on the clock, you're stuck here. You can't leave. Do you have any idea how awkward it is to have to have someone proposition you for a date while you have no way to remove yourself from the situation?"

"You can ask them to leave."

"Yeah, sure, that's the naive response. 'Just tell them to leave you alone.' And then maybe he calls you a bitch, learn to take a compliment, what's your problem, he's just being friendly, women are so rude. Maybe he gets in your face, starts yelling. Men can be scary."

"I'm not scary, though, right?" Andrew waved his hands up and down his chest to indicate his entire self.

I took a deep breath and resisted the urge to sigh; I did not want to have this conversation, but someone ought to explain it to him, and I was the one here.

"Look," I said. "Think about it from the woman's perspective. On average, we're weaker than men, and we know it. A lot of times, it feels like the best we can do is get the heck out of dodge, so a man asking something of us when we don't have a way to gracefully exit the situation is uncomfortable at best. You wouldn't ask a woman on a date while blocking her way to the door, right?"

"Of course not!"

"Well, when we're on the clock, our jobs do the blocking."

"Yeah, but--but--" He stuttered for a moment before settling on, "But she flirted back! She wasn't just being polite, or friendly, or… she was flirting back, right?"

"Yes, she was, and I can see why you'd think it'd be fine to go from that to asking her out. But she also associates people trying to romance her on the clock with pushy, demanding creeps, and going from playful flirting to actual date planning must've crossed a line."

"How was I supposed to know that was some sort of huge dating faux pas?"

I pulled myself up from my lounging and started rooting around in the display cases again as I thought.

"I'll admit the line isn't obvious," I said, "but it's definitely there. Flirting is 'participatory'; it's something you two were doing, but it's something either of you could have stopped doing and that would be that—though I should point out that that's only true because she knows you well enough to trust that you'd stop if she did, and flirting with wait-staff is still a 'huge faux pas' as a general rule. Asking her on a date is different because her response is going to set the tone for all your future interactions. Even if she's interested—and it's fairly clear she is—she hated that you asked her at a time where she wouldn't feel comfortable saying 'no' if she wasn't."

"Oh."

Andrew slouched and stuck his thumbs in his pockets. "So I should pro'ly apologize to Lizzie, then, huh?"

"Good idea. Have a cookie." Because that's what I'd been messing around in the display case for, of course.

"Uh… thanks? I think?" He accepted the cookie without hesitation, but then added, "Kinda feel like a dog getting a treat, here."

"I'm not trying to train you," I reassured him. "I'm reminding you that this is a bakery, not a couples counselor's office."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Andrew gave me a sheepish smile and beat his retreat, waving as he walked out the door.

I sighed as I looked out over the shop, already feeling bad about chasing Andrew out like that; it wasn't his fault the conversation had reminded me that I, in particular, had a lot of privilege when it came to personal security. Content that no one was going to need me in the next thirty seconds, I picked up the empty tray and headed back towards the kitchen, igniting and extinguishing a small fireball in my free hand beneath the counter where no one could see it—because contrary to what June had chosen to imply, I was absolutely the type of person to get 'Maximized Fireball' as a spell.

———X==X==X———​

 

[Tempestuous]

AN: With Luke's plot thread… not 'resolved', but at least 'stable' for the moment, we suddenly remember that we are in fact in El Goonish Shive. It's something of a relief to be working with non-OCs again, even if only for a single scene. I don't particularly like dealing with large numbers of OCs, which is one of the things drawing me to Fan Fiction in the first place—and a frustrating stumbling block if I ever want to create Original Fiction.

And speaking of the benefits of Fan Fiction: one of my favorite things about working with an established visual medium is that I can write "Three different shades of confusion crossed Tedd's face", and everyone familiar with the source material is now imagining three beat panels of Confused Tedd.

 

[LordCirce]

Heh, yeah, that was pretty much the only way that 'hinting at knowledge of Zeke's fate' could have gone. It would either be pulling off the bandage with a complete reveal, or several chapters of steadily escalating shenanigans as Tedd and Co. tried to figure out what was being hidden from them.

And I'm glad Lizzie is able to recognize that she is being irrational on this, as this is definitely a case where communication is needed to reconcile differing viewpoints.