65. The Whole 'Us' Thing (Patreon)

A/N: Hi everyone! Author's note time! We have another content warning, stop reading now yadda yadda three two one go: it's more of last time. Things aren't anywhere near as explicit, but sex and sexual actions are discussed. There's your warning! Enjoy the chapter!

Ida takes a deep breath next to me, and the way it makes her exposed chest rise and fall—newly resculpted and freshly purple—almost gets me to jump on her again. But I don't, because I am finally well and truly exhausted. It's… a great feeling, honestly, to be sleepy and out of energy for good reasons instead of bad ones, basking in the experience of being entirely comfy and safe.

"...Wow," Ida sighs happily, arching her back and testing her wings with a soft hum. "That was… wow."

My instant, immediate instinct is to apologize. It bursts up inside me out of nowhere, insisting that I backpedal away from what I've done, demanding I remind her that I'm a horrible monster and it isn't okay to stab people or bite them or… or swallow their flesh. It's not okay. It's not. And when I do something wrong I need to apologize.

But for once, I hold back the urge. I let it drown in the afterglow, shriveling up in both the happiness that's inside me and the joy that's obvious from Ida herself. Ida damn well doesn't want an apology right now, so I'm not going to submit to selfishness and give her one.

"Yeah," I say instead. "I, uh… you really surprised me, there."

"Good surprise, though?" Ida chuckles, rotating onto her side to face me. Goddess, the way gravity makes her breasts rest on each other like that…

"Y-yeah," I stammer, a blush on my cheeks. "Definitely a good surprise."

"Awesome," she grins, vampire-like fangs glinting inside her mouth as her tail thrashes behind her. "Glad I could help. And fucking hell, look what I get out of it! You realize these are probably like, F-cups on a band size as tiny as mine, right?"

She grasps one boob in each hand and shakes them around a little to demonstrate. Exhaustion is, once again, the only thing stopping me from jumping on top of her and biting one of them off.

"...Sorry," I mutter, unable to hold it back a second time. "I hope bra shopping won't be too much of a hassle."

"What? Hannah, seriously, I'm like… nigh-arbitrarily rich. I'll order like a dozen new bras on Amazon overnight, keep the two best ones, and toss the rest. Also: I literally asked for this, and it's awesome. Fuck off with the apology shit."

"S—" Nope, bad Hannah. "Uh. Okay. Will do. You, um… you really like it?"

I glance at her tail and she follows my gaze, smirking and bringing it up between her legs to wiggle it at me.

"What, this thing?" she asks. "Hell yeah, it's cool as fuck. Though I do gotta say: succubus spade? Really? I mean, I like it, but it's kind of on the nose, isn't it?"

"...Well I was on your nose," I mumble, and Ida blinks with surprise for a second before letting out a howl of laughter.

"True!" she agrees. "So fucking true, bestie! Holy shit I did not expect that zinger from you, oh man. Haha. Goddess, this was great. Like damn, it was everything I hoped it would be. Am I gonna be able to fly with these things, by the way?"

"...Yeah," I confirm, embarrassment keeping my tone quiet. "Yeah, you can fly. It's technically your Order magic that will be letting you do it though, the wings just channel it."

"So I just have to believe I'm too cool for gravity?" she asks. "That sounds easy enough. Probably shouldn't try it indoors, though."

"Yeah," I agree, barely managing to peel my eyes away from her as I flop back to stare at the ceiling. A weird anxiety I'm not sure about is pushing its way through the good feelings already, but it's kind of a silly one so I may as well let it out. "Hey, Ida?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we girlfriends now?"

"Ha!" Ida barks out another laugh, though this one creates a heavy pit in my stomach rather than the fluttery, light feeling her laughs usually do. "Are you kidding? Of course we aren't dating, I actually like you."

Oh. Oh, no. Wait, but I mean… she said she likes me? But we're not… she doesn't want to… does she not…?

"...What?" I manage, only choking a little.

"Huh?" Ida blinks. "Oh! Oh shit, Hannah, I… fuck, okay, have we… not talked about how I'm aromantic?"

"Arom—Ida, I've seen you date like fifteen people!" I accuse, my breath catching a little. "No, I didn't know you were aromantic!"

"Oh!" she gapes. "Oh, oh no, oh fuck, okay… um. So. Gosh, alright. The way I date? It's fake. It's not how I… fuck, how do I… hngh."

She takes a deep breath.

"Hannah," she continues, looking me in the eyes as I try not to cry. "I love you. Okay? I love you and I care about you and you are my best friend and it is because of those things that I am absolutely not ever going to date you. And I know that's… well, I realize now that isn't what you expected, but—"

"It's okay!" I interrupt her quickly, turning away and wiping at my face. "It's fine, it's fine, I just… I d-didn't expect that really. B-but th-that's my fault for n-not asking or not knowing that about you, I just… I sh-should have…"

No, no no no, I should not be crying right now, this is so dumb. This was awesome and wonderful and just because I expected my first time to be with someone I could call my girlfriend that doesn't mean I should be expecting Ida to fit into my boxes and it certainly doesn't mean I should be making her feel bad for—

"Okay, woah there Hannah, you're, uh, spiraling a bit I think," Ida says, scooting over to rest a hand on my shoulder. I tense up, and she removes it. "Look, let me just… let's talk about this. Mature, honest discussion, like we probably should have had before fucking each other but I was too afraid of ruining the mood with. Okay?"

"...Okay," I sniff, forcibly trying to calm myself down. It's okay. It's okay. The normative view of romance is bullshit anyway, right? You're a very good and based queer who knows all about this stuff, right Hannah? Hahahaha oh fucking hell I was not ready for this.

"Right, okay," Ida says, sitting up and hugging her knees. Her tail curls around her ankles and it's so adorable and she's so incredible and I can't believe she actually wanted it and she likes it and she's like me but I guess even after all that we're not dating! "I know it's hard to believe but I am… not actually perfect, and I have some… baggage. About certain things. We've talked about some of it before, but in terms of like, relationships specifically? I, um. I don't do those. Or… I mean, I do do those, but it's always for like. A purpose. A goal. A manipulation. A prank. It's not real. I don't have real romances with people."

"...But you said you loved me," I sniff.

"Yes," Ida nods. "And I'm pretty sure that's true! But love and romance are not the same thing, yeah? Romance is like… the rituals surrounding love. The obligations of a relationship, the dates and the gifts and the unspoken social balance of money, status, expectation, debt… y'know, the entire artificial social construct of what it means to be in a relationship. And I am really fucking good at using that, Hannah. To the point that… I'm pretty sure I've completely divorced it from how I actually care about people."

"Oh," I say quietly, because what else can I say?

"Yep," she shrugs helplessly. "Like, aromanticism means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. A lot of folks just… are aromantic, y'know? Just fzzt, nope, romantic relationships just aren't interesting, that's that. I use the same label, but to me, romance is… I do like it. But it's a game. It's something to win. And, well… among lots of other unhealthy things, that would mean I'd be using my magic to optimize it. That's not… it isn't how I want to love a person."

"I see," I say, doing my best to calm down a little. "That… makes sense. Fits with… you. I probably could have figured it out if I just thought about it enough."

"That, uh, doesn't make it not my responsibility to tell you this kind of thing," Ida sighs. "Sorry."

"No, that's not… you never stated or implied you wanted to date me, Ida," I protest. "Your position was clear and I just assumed. I just… I'll get over it."

"So… still friends?" Ida asks.

"What? Oh yeah, absolutely!" I assure her. "One hundred percent, yeah."

"Still friends… with benefits?" she presses, wiggling her eyebrows and puffing up her tits with her biceps a little. Which… yeah, earns a chuckle out of me.

"Maybe. It was… it was really good," I admit. "But we'll see. I want to, um… ask more about how you feel about love and relationships and stuff first. Now that we're… y'know, dealing with the emotions."

"I guess that's probably healthy," Ida chuckles nervously. "But, uh, I am… pretty sticky. You wanna shower first, or—"

I cast Refresh and silently fling everything I haven't already cleaned into her trash can.

"Oh," she says. "Right. Shit, that usually works."

"You're trying to get out of talking about this," I realize.

Her lips twitch into a smile, though it quickly vanishes.

"I'd praise you for catching me if I didn't feed it to you," she chuckles. "You realize I do that, right? Purposefully 'slip up' to try and get you to call me on something I know I need to be called on but don't have the balls to own up to directly?"

"I guess so?" I agree, tilting my head. "Though I guess if you want me to pay attention that hard I'll also call you out on changing the subject again to explain that."

"Yes. Exactly. Okay, see? You get it. Please pay attention that hard."

"I'll try, but the last time we had a real talk you said I was your best friend largely due to my capacity to ignore people and not judge you," I smirk, poking her with a claw. "Come on Ida, just say it. Or do we have to get into a 'spilling insecurities' competition?"

"Heh. That might do it, actually," she chuckles. "But nah, I don't need that kind of crutch. Okay, so, uh… I often think and act in ways that I feel are narcissistic tendencies."

"Yep," I agree.

"Hey, don't just agree, that's… actually, no. Thank you for agreeing. Um. So the nasty thing about knowing you have that kind of problem is that it does not actually cure you of the problem, right? I can be intellectually aware that I judge myself to be superior to others, but how am I supposed to stop doing that when I always outperform everyone I meet? I can be consciously able to remind myself that I'm prone to belittling others, but why should I stop when I know exactly when and where to do that in order to get results? And so on and so forth. I believe my own hype, and that… is very scary sometimes."

"Right, I'm with you so far," I nod. "What's the difference between being an arrogant asshole and just being genuinely skilled?"

"Yeah," Ida sighs. "But like, it goes a little further than that for me. You also know I like to… play with people. Take over their lives for a while and try to 'help them,' though it's really just a way for me to be in control. So I identify as aromantic because I recognize that most of my… interpersonal urges are destructive to others. It's not actually love. Love is… or, uh, at least I think it's the thing where I'm actually somehow compelled to pull my head out of my ass and care about you as a person instead of a victory, but like… shit, Hannah, I'm always one step away from that, you know? So when it comes to dating you, well… I only know one way to do that, and you would fucking love it, and it wouldn't be good for either of us."

Oh. Hmm. I think I get it.

"How often, exactly, are you putting up a front, Ida?" I ask.

"Um… yes?" she grimaces.

"So you're constantly, all the time, calculating out how best to present yourself and manipulate people instead of just acting naturally?"

"No, it's more that constantly calculating how best to present myself is what's natural to me," she sighs. "If you take that away, there isn't anybody underneath. …Well, other than a super skilled super smart hottie with an even more rockin' bod then she had a few hours ago. But that's like, not a personality, you know?"

"Okay," I nod. "The thing is though, I've never gotten the impression that you don't have a specific personality. Because, well… why wouldn't the natural way you present yourself count as a personality?"

"I don't know. Because that would be terrifying?" Ida says. "Ugh, look, let's not extend the conversation that far. What matters is how you feel about the whole… us. Thing."

I frown. No, I was definitely much happier talking about Ida's feelings. But… fair enough.

"It hurts," I admit. "This… none of this is what I had in mind. But I guess that includes the, uh, biting and the stabbing and the permanent transformation, and I, um. Like. Those. Even though I definitely probably shouldn't."

"I guess in the same way that you could have figured out I didn't want a normal dating relationship, I could have figured out that you did want that," Ida sighs. "If I'm being real, I probably did know, and just… figured if I did things my way well enough, any inconvenient differences in preference you had would end up getting washed away in the tide. That's how I normally do things, after all."

"Yeah," I agree. "I guess so. Like I know you do that to people, I've seen it. It's just hard to think of you as a bad person when you're constantly going out of your way to be so kind to me. I'll happily afford you a mistake or two. Like, okay, the not-a-relationship thing was an unpleasant shock, but the rest? You, uh, definitely had my enthusiastic consent for today."

"Oh, sweet," Ida sighs. "Well if there's one goal I'm really glad I hit today, it's continuing to not be a rapist. Seriously though, I'm glad you had fun. I definitely had fun. Like damn, I didn't even expect to be that into getting various body parts torn off but holy shit that was like, the hottest fucking thing I've ever done."

"The phrase is 'safe, sane, consensual,' right? One out of three ain't bad," I joke.

"Well to be fair, we have very different standards for 'safe' than the average person," Ida says, hopping off the bed and stretching and aaaah. "We're immune to disease, capable of regrowing limbs, and functionally impossible to kill outside of damage to the brain. You kept things away from my skull so that pretty much counts as safe."

"Was it sane, though?" I press.

"...Two out of three ain't bad," Ida smirks. "Now if you'll excuse me, I really need to go pee."

Hmm. Y'know, I could probably stab her in the bladder and use Refresh to—okay, woah, that's enough horny brain, I'm making horny brain illegal now. What the fuck, me? I take a deep breath and try to calm myself as Ida collects her discarded clothes and heads to the bathroom. I should probably also get clothes on. That… will help, I think.

Sex is pretty cool, though.

I get dressed and fail to spend the entire time thinking about anything other than what Ida and I just did together, though I do manage to return my head from the clouds when she returns. Though I'll certainly miss the sight of her naked, she's still stunning wearing her old outfit, her shirt undersized, her chest braless, and shorts hanging low to let her tail out. Her wings are folded down against her back, though, and I definitely want to cut some holes in her shirt for her. First, though…

"Are you interested in heading to Manumit, by the way?" I ask her. "That birthday present is also still on the table."

"Oh shit, right!" Ida brightens up, her tail flicking with excitement. How is she already so natural with it? "Extradimensional spa day, you said? Sure, I'm down. Think the robots could make me a comfy bra?"

"Um… actually, they definitely could," I realize. "Yeah, that could be a quick and easy way to update your wardrobe for your new, uh… everything."

I gesture vaguely at her with a blade, and she preens.

"Sounds awesome. I'll totally take some techno space fabric for the girls. When do we leave?"

"Uh, pretty much whenever you want, I guess," I admit. "Though we definitely need to talk about Crafted-interaction ground rules…"

I give Ida a quick summary of dos and don'ts of the Crafted, leaving out a lot of the why because I don't want to depress her and potentially cause negative feedback with her interactions. I mostly just tell her that the Crafted want to make her happy and encourage her to ask for whatever she wants, whenever she wants, and be openly complimentary whenever she's pleased. Ida excitedly assures me that she can handle that, and I awkwardly cuddle into her bed again so I have somewhere to sleep while I pull her into another universe.

She lies down next to me, close enough that I can feel her breath again. But of course, I'm always aware of every little detail. I can see her heart beat, watch her blood pumping through her body. I can watch the muscles of her tail twitch, slowly shifting between cycles of quick, instinctive movement and slow, purposeful sweeps as Ida consciously tries to get a better handle on it. Her wings are the same, occasionally buzzing with a hyper-rapid slapping sound, constrained against her body by her shirt. And as we get comfortable together, she nuzzles me with that incredible crown of six glorious horns, which we had enjoyed discovering were very sensitive, and very good handholds.

I definitely would not be able to sleep like this if my spell didn't literally knock me unconscious when I cast it, but thankfully (or perhaps thanklessly) it does.

I wake up to Kagiso squawking in surprise and Helen jumping into a combat stance as Ida presumably appears out of nowhere. I don't actually know what it looks like when she appears, since I'm always asleep until after the things I transfer finish their journey, but I guess it's pretty abrupt.

"Who the fuck are you!?" Helen demands, Chaos magic crackling in her palms.

"Woah, woah, this is Ida!" I yelp, jumping to my feet. "Remember? I know she looks a little different now, but…"

"Fucking hell… a little different?" Helen breathes. "You could have warned us!"

"No, I couldn't have," I sulk. "This is brand new. Unplanned. Sorry."

"Oh," Helen says, worry and contrition blanketing her face for a moment. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry. Did something happen on Earth?"

I'm confused for a moment, until I realize what caused Helen to have a sudden, unplanned monster transformation and the near-tragedy she's probably assuming happened.

"N-nothing that bad!" I reassure her, glad my current body can't blush. "Things are okay, promise."

"What's up, fuckers!" Ida grins, spreading her arms. "I have no idea what any of you are saying!"

"O-oh, uh, Helen is worried that you got transformed under similarly traumatic circumstances, is all," I translate for her.

"Ha! Tell her we had sex, Hannah."

"No!"

"I do hope it was enjoyable," Elpida says in English, stepping into the room with a wry smile. I flail all of my limbs, sputtering incoherently. I… I knew she'd be here, she said they'd be monitoring the room for when Ida shows up, but still…!

"It was awesome," Ida confirms, hands on her hips. "Are you Elpida?"

"I am," the Crafted nods. "Am I correct to assume you are Ida?"

"You are!" Ida agrees happily, holding out her hand to shake. "Great to meet ya!"

Elpida's ever-present smile softens a little, and she accepts the handshake. Come to think of it, I'm not sure I've ever actually seen people do a handshake treeside, so I'm not sure all the cultural implications are carrying over, but Ida's absolutely being purposeful with using a respectful way to introduce herself to an equal. I was never really that worried Ida would hurt the Crafted, but I'm glad to be immediately vindicated about it.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance as well," Elpida nods. "It is my understanding that the culture you and Hannah hail from has an abnormally high technological and scientific advancement level, including knowledge of bacteria. Is this still a standard greeting for your people?"

"Ha!" Ida grins. "Yep, it sure is. But you know us humans, tradition often triumphs over sense. In my case, at least, I'm pretty sure my Order magic makes me a non-vector."

"Relieving to know!" Elpida smiles. "I hope you will not be offended if our own medical specialists double-check your microbiome to ensure there are no invasive pathogens regardless."

"Oh, not at all!" Ida nods. "In fact, if you guys wanna do anything a bit more detailed, I did just grow a bunch of completely new body parts and it would be a huge help to get some experts to assess any weird health needs, give advice, that kind of stuff."

Elpida's smile grows wider.

"We would be overjoyed to assist you," she bows lightly. "Follow me, please."

"Mind if I come with?" I ask.

"I sure don't!" Ida confirms. "Honestly, I'd love to hang out with everyone, especially if I could have some help like, actually talking with the others?"

"Of course! Allow me to introduce you to your designated translator, Keti."

We step out of the room at the literal moment Elpida's sentence ends, and another feminine Crafted is already waiting for us, petite in frame and nearly a full two inches under Ida's already short height. Her body is designed to be abnormally humanoid, even by Crafted standards, with much subtler joints and a beautifully sculpted frame, actual clothing on her body instead of the usual metallic faux-clothing built into their bodies that most Crafted have, if they even appear clothed at all. With my spatial sense, I've already seen her waiting outside the room when I woke up, alongside a selection of eleven other Crafted of various designs, genders, and styles. Seconds after Ida mentioned that she and I had sex, all of them left except Keti.

…I suppose that particular tidbit helped them make their decision on the optimal companion.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Mistress Ida," Keti says, doing something resembling a curtsy with her short skirt. Ida grins like she just won the lottery, but I cut her off mid-inhale before she can say anything.

"Please do not call her 'Mistress Ida,'" I insist. "It'll go right to her head."

"Aww, you're no fun," Ida pouts.

"We recently proved I am lots of fun," I counter. "Anyway Elpida, how come we're going to meet your pathogen people instead of the reverse? Shouldn't you do that kind of thing in the room?"

"We did," Elpida answers. "When I said I hoped you would not be offended, it was because we had already completed our scan. You and your friends are safe."

"Oh."

While we talk, Keti quietly repeats everything we say in Middlebranch for Helen and Kagiso, on barely a few seconds of delay. It's impressive, but I guess that's the Crafted for you.

"So, uh, does this translation thing go both ways?" Helen asks, and Keti simply answers her by translating that to English word-for-word, her eyes literally sparkling with mirth. "Okay, I guess that's a yes. Hey again, Ida. Thanks again for the help a week ago."

"Yes, hello!" Kagiso agrees. "You bring gun?"

Ida laughs.

"No problem, Helen. Thank you for keeping Hannah alive where I couldn't. And no, Kagiso, I did not bring a gun."

"But I want gun."

"So I've been told!"

"How's having a tail been treating you?" Helen asks. "I still can't get over how weird this all is."

"I dunno, I kinda like mine," Ida says. "It tells the world I'm a slut!"

Helen has a coughing fit and doesn't otherwise answer. I, again, remain privately thankful that I cannot blush. The Goddess magnanimously accepts my appreciation, but reminds me that the state of affairs is temporary. I still have a lot of growth to do in this world.

"Hannah has asked us to prepare a number of activities that she believed you would appreciate," Elpida comments as I shudder silently, "but, naturally, we'd like to ask you about your plans and desires for the day, Ida. We will have anything you want prepared for you."

"Sounds great!" Ida grins. "Let's start with that health checkup and go from there, if that's okay."

"Absolutely," Elpida nods, and we start yet another day of nonstop pampering.

Something about the days I spend getting happily indulged by Crafted makes them difficult to remember. Not in the sense that I think there's any actual memory problems going on; I can remember the things I've done, the fun I've had, and the relaxation I've finally been able to let myself have. But that's the thing: relaxation is fundamentally not an intensive activity, and my brain is so used to things constantly being intense I think it struggles to find any reason to put the calmness into my long-term memory.

I'm tempted, very tempted, to stay in Manumit forever. To just… let myself be happy. But it feels wrong. My body itches to leave. My anxiety demands that I not exploit these kind and damaged people. My sense of duty reminds me that the world is literally on fire, and if I don't figure out why I might end up causing something just like it. But for now, for at least a little bit? I need this. So I stay.

I wake up on Ida's bed the next day, Ida herself already unconscious beside me. From her perspective, she just stayed awake for close to twenty-four hours, so she ended up passing out back in Manumit before I brought her home. It's… weirdly surprising to me that she has this problem. I guess I've gotten so used to a constant stream of consciousness that I forgot that other people still need sleep even if you bring them to another universe.

It's not a big deal though, I guess. It's Sunday now, so it's not like Ida will have much she needs to do today. I carefully extract myself from her bed and tuck her in, checking the time. Hmm, six-thirty in the morning. I should make sure I'm home in time for church.

I send Ida a quick text about leaving because she seemed like she needed sleep and head downstairs. To my surprise and chagrin, I note that her father is in the kitchen sipping a cup of coffee, and I will not be able to make it to the front door of the house without passing him. Geez, I hope he wasn't home last night. Their house is legitimately so big that I might have missed him.

I'm tempted to just walk through the walls to get out of here, but that would leave me naked with all my clothes on the floor of his hallway so it's probably less embarrassing to just head out there and face the music. I walk into the kitchen, my feet clacking on the hardwood. Ida's dad looks up, and I give him an awkward wave.

"Uh, hey Mr. Kelly," I greet him.

Ida's father looks up from his coffee, blinking in surprise. He's a somewhat rotund man, almost dwarfish with his short stature and well-groomed beard. He's got that stocky build that looks chubby at first glance but in reality is a modest layer of fat over an impressive layer of muscle. He does… some important work or another for the local Republican party, and I'm pretty sure he's ran for senator or congressman or something like that. Maybe he was one? Did Ida live in DC before I met her? Bleh, never paying any attention to people really comes back to bite me sometimes.

"You're… Hannah, right?" Mr. Kelly asks. "Did Ida invite you over?"

"Yes sir," I nod. "She's asleep, but I need to go home to get ready for church."

He brightens up a bit when I mention church, as I sort of expected he would.

"Ah, okay! None of that 'sir' stuff, Mr. Kelly is fine," he says. "Goodness, I, ah… don't think I've seen you here since middle school. You certainly looked different then!"

"Uh… yeah, haha," I laugh awkwardly, scratching at the side of my face. "I've had an intense couple of months."

"I imagine," he says, taking a sip of coffee. "You're a bit of a hot-button issue at the office."

Hmm. I have to admit, he's a good actor. I suppose it makes sense that he has a lot of experience seeming calm and in control. But I can still see his heart rate spike every time his eyes flick to my blades. I can see his muscles tense, his posture instinctively shifting to anticipate the consequences of being this close to a predator. It makes me hungry.

"The world is changing," I say. "It's not fun being at the center of that. If there's anything I can do to help, Mr. Kelly, I'd be happy to ease some worries where I can."

"I appreciate that," he nods. "Unfortunately, the boys upstairs have been making it very clear that you're more of a… federal issue. Which I personally think is absurd, but they have a lot of weight to throw around when they want to, and… well, they're throwing it."

"That's good to know," I hum, enjoying his flinch as I rub my hip-limbs together a little. "I hope the government can put together good regulations and responses for magic, but I have to admit I'm kind of expecting them to struggle with it."

"Yes…" Mr. Kelly grimaces. "Though I can't exactly say so for the cameras, that is unfortunately the nature of governance. Because that is the nature of humanity, wouldn't you say? To struggle. To fail. To be imperfect. And so naturally we say we must pick ourselves up and try again, to always do better the next time, but as the government? Every last failure, no matter how small, has consequences for millions of people. We cannot afford failure, yet it happens regardless. The times ahead… will be rough, I think."

I can't help but be surprised by his forthrightness, but I give him a nod. I'm not really sure what else to do. He's right; it's going to be rough.

"Why did Ida invite you over, if I may ask?" Mr. Kelly inquires. "Her birthday party was two days ago, wasn't it?"

"She, uh, wanted to do something more private with me," I admit, scratching the back of my head. "Because we're, um, really good friends. And she's also a mage."

His eyes go wide. On one hand, I feel bad about telling him before Ida does. On the other hand, Ida is a purple demon fairy now so she's not exactly going to be hiding it. …That and I'd rather him assume that I'm here because Ida is a purple mage, not that Ida is a purple mage because I'm here. Though I guess that, technically, both are true.

"...My daughter can cast spells?" Mr. Kelly asks, stunned.

"Oh, yeah," I nod. "She's, uh, got a knack for it, if I'm being honest. Nothing dangerous, thankfully. Her magic mostly focuses around protecting and improving herself. We're pretty sure she's immune to diseases now? Like just, all of them, from cold to cancer."

Mr. Kelly looks so flabbergasted that, were he not already sitting down, he would have definitely collapsed into the nearest chair.

"That's… good?" he hedges, breaking out with sweat.

"It is good!" I agree. "But, if you'll excuse me, I also need to go chat with a child delinquent that can set things on fire with his mind, and his mother who I frankly expect to be even more of a public nuisance. So. Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Kelly. Again, let me know if there's anything I can do to help you shape the magical policy we will be needing… very soon. Have a good day!"

I step past him and leave his house before he can respond, settling into a comfortable jog home. The rest of my family should be waking up right about now, but maybe if I'm lucky I can make it back before they notice I'm—oh nope my mom's in the dining room pacing around in an obvious panic. Very cool.

"Um, have you guys had breakfast yet?" I ask as I open the door.

"Hannah!" my mother demands, rushing to the front door as soon as I get inside. "Where have you been?"

"I was at Ida's house," I answer. "I told you that I was going there, right?"

"You didn't say you were going overnight!"

"...One thing led to another," I frown. "Sorry for worrying you. I'm going to go get changed."

"Changed?" she asks.

"...For church?"

My mother seems surprised.

"You're going?"

I blink. It honestly hadn't occurred to me that not going was an option. I certainly don't want to go, and I did storm out of there last week in a big fit of rage that will… probably not make returning super fun. But I need to talk to J-Mug and J-Mom, and I assume they'll be there considering our church is funding their mortgage payments.

"Yeah," I tell her. "Maybe not the whole time, but there's something I need to do."

"...Apologize, I hope?" she prompts.

I scowl. Same old mom.

"We'll see," I tell her, and head upstairs to put my church clothes on. …Minus the shoes and socks. Fuck those shoes. Honestly, it feels a bit strange wearing one of my long-skirt-and-blouse combos with all my limbs out and my claws uncovered, but… it's nice. I don't hate this outfit. The mix of modest and cute with dangerous and inhuman is kind of a vibe. And thankfully, my mom either doesn't notice or doesn't decide to comment on my barefootedness. My brother definitely looks a little concerned getting smooshed in so close to my extra limbs in the car, though.

Everybody stares at me when I enter the church because of course they do, but I ignore them and head towards the J-family, who thankfully are present. They both look surprised to see me and, to my pleasant surprise, somewhat embarrassed to see me as well. Dang, if J-Mom actually regrets her actions she might not cause an apocalypse after all!

"You two," I snap at them. "Come with me."

"Um, h-hey Hannah," J-Mug stammers, waving at me. I ignore him and just motion to follow, stomping off towards one of the side exits so I can talk to them in private. Hesitantly, they follow. Good.

"I… wanted to apologize, Hannah," J-Mom begins. "Last time we spoke I got caught up in the moment, and—"

"J-Mug, have either of you broken any of the rules I laid out for you?" I cut her off.

"Wh… you mean me?" he asks. "No, I-I don't think so."

"Okay, good. Things might be salvageable, then."

"Do you not know my name…?"

"Both of you, explain to me what your spells do and the types of things you've figured out about your magic," I demand, ignoring him.

"Um, well, I can make fire, but not a lot of it," J-Mug says, scratching the back of his head. "I can also… set an area to be a specific temperature of my choosing?"

"It really saves on the air conditioning bill!" J-mom says happily.

"Cool. Yes. I'm sure it does," I sigh. "And you?"

"I'm not really sure!" she admits. "I can feel something, though. I think… it gives me more energy?"

Yes, because that's clearly what this woman needed. Honestly, she still looks like she should still be in a hospital bed. She's worryingly thin.

"Could you go into more detail?" I ask.

"Well, you know, I… sometimes I still get tired, but when there's something I feel like I have to do, the exhaustion goes away and I can just kind of rip-roar at full speed again! I'm mostly just getting chores done around the house because Jared isn't letting me work yet—"

"Mom, the doctor said you can't work yet," J-Mug (Jared, I guess) insists. "You need to rest."

"No I don't!" J-Mom says happily. "Because I am blessed with magic! Besides, I'm still your mother. I have to be the one to take care of you, not the other way around."

I frown. Is her magic really that simple? More energy? I mean, this is the Goddess we're talking about. What sort of spells would She give this woman? J-mom is a single mother who nearly worked herself to death while sick to support her son. She's not a bad person, even if she might be a little dumb. If anything, she's self-sacrificing, which… oh. Dog biscuits.

"Your Motion magic does not give you more energy," I tell her, frowning. Somehow I just know this. It feels right. It's what She would have done. "It only allows you to keep working despite not having energy. Your magic is about moving past your own limits, but those limits don't actually change. If you keep using your magic as a crutch every time you're tired, you'll eventually kill yourself. You need to go home and rest."

I turn to J-Mug next.

"Your magic is about… care, I think. Protection. Keeping people warm and safe. Something along those lines. It might even have mild healing properties. Experiment with what you can do, but again, don't rely on it. Magic isn't just a gift. Like anything good, you can overuse it. And again, the rules?"

"Don't talk while casting, don't show anyone magic," J-mug says.

"Good," I say. "I mean, you can tell people you have magic now, if you want to. The cat's out of the bag. I recommend not doing so, however; the government has been harassing me about it. No speaking while casting is a huge rule, though. That's for the safety of you and everyone around you. Don't ever do it."

They nod, J-Mom actually looking genuinely contrite. Holy moly, they might actually be listening this time. They might not be causing the apocalypse! This is… a big relief. More time, more time. Just gotta keep buying more time.

I hear someone clear their throat behind me, and I turn to look at my pastor, who gives me a soft smile.

"Hello, Hannah," he greets me. "Apologies, I've been hoping to speak to you. I didn't mean to walk in on another conversation."

"...It's fine, I guess," I tell him. "We weren't really talking about anything secret. What did you want to talk about?"

He seems… strangely awkward, which I suppose makes sense. I did kind of cause a huge scene in his church last week, and I'd feel pretty awkward having to ask somebody about that and get the standard reassurances that they aren't going to flip off the handle again. That's never any fun for anybody, so I steel myself for the conversation.

"I've been doing a lot of meditating and studying of scripture," he tells me, "on the nature of witchcraft and demonic powers."

"I'm sure you have," I say flatly.

"The Bible speaks a lot of these things," he explains. "Though Satan only has access to the power God allows him, his power is considerable. Demonic power is used many times in the Bible to replicate the power of God."

"Yeah," I nod. "I've always hated that, you know? No matter how I slice it, I can't look at what God does in say, the book of Job, and see it as anything other than evil. Enabling an abuser is de facto abuse, right?"

"God's plans extend beyond what we can see," he says sadly, which has never and will never be a satisfying answer to me. "And He bans spellcasting. This is a very explicit command, repeated multiple times."

"Yeah," I sigh. "I know."

"And yet," my pastor continues, "the difference between demonic power and divine intervention is often difficult to spot. So tell me, Hannah. To what do you attribute the source of this power?"

I frown.

"It… well, it's divine," I admit. "But it isn't the god spoken of in the Bible. She's the Goddess, and… well, honestly, I don't even know why She has a gender, I'm too scared to ask, but She's not a man. She's not Jesus or Satan."

"If the Bible is to be believed, there is no such power bar Jesus and Satan."

'If the Bible is to be believed?' Somehow I expect you believe it, Mr. Professional Pastor?

"I don't know what to tell you, then," I shrug.

"My colleagues attempted to perform an exorcism on you," he continues. "They failed. I know many that have asked God for miracles to contest yours, and all of them have failed as well. It seems to me that if there is any power beyond this world, you are the one who controls it. Not us."

"Um," I hesitate, suddenly not understanding what's happening anymore. "What are you saying?"

"I want to speak with you about your Goddess, Hannah," he says. "And I think I may wish for you to give a sermon, if you're willing."

"What?"

"Mankind normally has nothing but the Bible and the Holy Spirit to guide us… but this changes when a prophet is born. I do not know if that is what you are, but I know I would be a fool to not consider the possibility. Would you speak with me, Hannah?"

Oh no. Why didn't I think of this? I'm going to have cults. But at the same time… can I afford to not teach people about the Goddess?

"I… okay," I nod. "Let's talk."

He smiles, and leads me to his office again. And we talk.