Diary of a Teenaged Mimic

Dear Diary,

Makes me feel bad to say it, but even with Grandma Aetos' death, these past couple weeks have been some of the busiest since I wound up here and now, and of all the busy weeks, and without reservations the best busy weeks so far. Then again, so many of my busy weeks wind up being discovering something awful, trying to fix it, finding the person responsible for the awful thing, then delivering violence and terror unto them until they decide to stop doing that shit. With those kinds of weeks to compare my recent activities to, Grandma Aetos dying, even with her deciding that her chosen Afterlife was my Maw, seems like it's not all that bad.

I mean, honestly, in the scheme of things, the way she died really wasn't that bad. She went out when she was ready to, and from what I can tell death itself wasn't painful for her. Shit, she might have been in the same kind of constant, low level pain I'm in from my scars, only without all the Heroic and Deific bullshit I can pull to mitigate it. As far as I'm aware, she sure as shit wasn't receiving near daily dopamine delivery from anybody the way I am. Shit, I don't think I ever even brought her along to see Loki.

Of course you did. That first Yule, for example.

Yeah, kinda meant for one of our Soul Realignment sessions.

I'm not sure she would have benefited. Not that I wouldn't have tried anyway had you or she asked.

Yeah, I know, Dad. That's 'cause you're the best.

I know.

But the long and the short of it is that she died when she was ready to die. I think it even makes me feel a little bit good that she was ready to die not because she was in pain, or old, or hurting, because from what I can tell that's been true the entire time I've known her, but because she looked around and saw the Homestead, and the kids, and our wedding, and... And the life that we've built together around her granddaughter and her great-granddaughter and decided that Saffron and Isnomi didn't need her watching any more. Not just because Saffron was a grown woman, a Hero, an Archmage, the Imperator of the Alliance, or any of that. Not because Isnomi has survived the 'infant mortality' years. But because they had us there with them, watching out for them, taking care of them. Maybe even giving Saffron and even Isnomi someone to take care of in turn. Sure as shit Isnomi would kill for her sisters, as The Morrigan found out to her detriment.

Still chuckle a little when I think of her shitting in what was left of The Morrigan's face.

Nah, she was old enough and hurt enough that she was alive because her kin needed her, and when she saw us, she realized she could finally, after at least a decade, closing on two now, she could finally let go and move on. It feels a very special kind of good to know that someone that old and wise looked at the family we've built and said, 'this is good enough for my kin, I can rest now, because they're in safe, loving arms'.

Almost makes me feel like I might, maybe, some of the time, when I try my best, be good enough for them.

So, y'know, that's why Grandma passing on doesn't really dim the shine of coming out as Mimic, of being openly Worshipped for who and what I am by at least a whole Temple full of people. Or of getting married. Not like anything's gonna crimp the happy from that anytime soon. Honestly, the relief she seemed to feel with her passing felt almost like some kind of balance to the joy of making new life with Marie and Saffron and Siobhan.

Thinking about that makes me wonder if maybe next time, once this batch are maybe Isnomi sized, if the four of us are still interested in expanding the family, I'll remember to have Murder Mittens pin Saffron down for baby making instruction extraction so I can maybe deliver some baby requisitions to Ice Pop's womb. The really bad part of me wants to figure out a way to do it on the ceiling or something. I mean, yeah, she'd just make herself taller or something if she really felt some kinda way about it, but she landed a nose flick with a lasting sting there at the end. 'Too late'. I still snicker about it whenever I think about it, in the lewdest of ways.

Anywho my point, and I did have one, is that most of my busy weeks are all pain and agony and terror and violence, and this one was... well, joy and celebration and passion and ecstasy and maybe some sorrow, but sorrow tempered with joy, just like my Kitten tempered my joy with ongoing affectionate consternation. Yeah, I'm gonna be on about that until I taunt her back, or I forget about it. I'm still me, so probably the latter.

Got thinking about all that because this is shaping up to be one of the other weeks. Neither the busy weeks nor the recuperating weeks, but the 'normal' weeks, which since I got here have always been filled with a lot of hard work, but it's hard work that has a lot of sameness to it. Classes. Marching. More classes. Standing watch. Teaching. And even more classes. Funny, when I think about it I've put a fair amount of time in class. I read somewhere that college students are only in class like three to four hours a day, five days a week, and I spent like eight to ten a day, six days a week in class for quite a while. So, y'know, if college degrees are based on credit hours, I feel a lot less like I didn't earn the one I've apparently got.

Y'know, I'm not sure they do sheepskins or diplomas here, but the fact that I never got one from Eastside kinda makes me want one here. Wouldn't do me any good, what with not having to apply for jobs, or prove my credentials to people, but it might make me feel, I dunno. Something about closure with school, maybe. Although I might start going back if I decide this six times a month Revel at the Temple isn't for me, or I get to the point where its... not 'routine'. Or maybe I do mean routine, but not in a bad way. If I get to the point where without thinking about it I just get my ass over to the Temple, spend a night focusing on my faithful one Worshipper at a time, giving them whatever they need from me, and it's not something I'm feeling at all weirded out by. Y'know, where I could do stuff with Cadet Brat or, I dunno, Vickerson and just take it in stride.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

That's definitely a weird thing to say about those little very public moments I have with my Worshippers at the Revels. 'Take them in stride'. Because I'm just now realizing that what I'm doing is interacting with them on a very intimate level. For most people, especially most of my Worshippers, that means sex. But not everybody, and not even all of my Worshippers. Weirdest fuckin' thing, realizing that Cherry was, apparently, Ace as fuck. Not Aro at all, but looking inside his head for what kind of intimacy he wanted, what would lift him to the heights of Ecstasy and hold him there until it overwhelmed him, none of it had to do with putting Tab A in Slot C.

Never really understood the whole 'put Tab A in Slot B' thing, because if you've ever worked with something like that, Tab A goes in Slot A.

Huh, don't think I've ever tried being the Tab and the Slot in that equation. Something to think about at some point when Marie is back on her feet and I'm not being run ragged every day.

So yesterday I wound up burning soup. Okay, stew, not soup, but it was still embarrassing. Worse, where if I were cooking for me or even just a batch of adults, I could just scrape the less burned portions of the stew off the sides of the pot, mix it with the stuff in the middle, and pour it into a different pot to finish it off. Yeah, maybe a little bitter with the burned stuff mixed back in, but adults, especially adults who've eaten struggle meals for a while, can ignore a little bitterness to get their fuel for the day. But I'm feeding at least seven kids, not to mention any visiting Homestead kids and one sweet toothed Imperator. So I had to be real careful about what I recovered, and it wound up being a little bit less stew than I thought I'd need.

So when I gave Mrs. Driver a lift home, I stuck around for a moment. When she realized I hadn't just dropped her off the way I had the past couple days, which was normally Marie's job, but I'm doing all of Marie's jobs now, she looked over at me and asked, "was there something you needed, Tabitha?'

I smiled at her, "other than for at least one person to call me Tabitha instead of 'Commander' or 'Champion' or 'Goddess'?"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" She lifted one hand to her mouth, embarrassed.

I stepped to her and hugged her, and because she is definitely a hugger, she hugged me back. "Mrs. Driver, you're one of my oldest friends here and now. You fed me more times than I can count. I am thrilled that you still call me 'Tabitha' or 'Dear', or any of those other things you call people who eat here."

"Watch out, you give me too many liberties you know what I'm going to do with you..." as I got a horrified image in my head of Things Not Fitting, she smiled and said, "I'll drag you along shopping and dress you up just like a doll!"

"Oh no! Not that!"

We both chuckled, then she said, "did you need something?"

"I think I kinda burned half of dinner, and I wondered if maybe you had any leftovers I could take home? Doesn't have to be anything special, just something not-burned to shovel into my kids."

She just nodded. "Of course we can help you out, dear!" Within about a minute I had a stack of... stuff. A couple gyros, half a chicken, half a pot of mashed pumpkin, some pasta sauce and some rolls that had clearly been baked this morning. Before I could thank her, she said, "Wait, one more thing!" and dropped an entire chocolate cake atop the pile in my arms.

Her eyes got a little wide when, due to my lack of arms to do it with, I pulled her in with tentacles and hugged her. Okay, after a couple moments I realized, shuffled the food over into another few tentacles, and wrapped my arms around her waist. "Thanks, Mrs. Driver." She ruffled my hair after hugging me back. Then something popped into my brain, and I couldn't help but ask. "Where do you get the chocolate?"

She froze, then chuckled. "Saffron hasn't told you?"

"Told me what?"

She laughed and shrugged. "The Imperator knows, so it's not anything The Alliance is worried about, and my William knows, so it's not likely to be an issue with Camden Yards, but I've kept things under cover for so long when the powers that be in Phileo might not have been thrilled to find out, it's just habit."

If she was right about Bill and Saffron knowing, it wasn't anything awful. At least I hoped not. "What's habit?"

She giggled. "Not talking about the, ah, variety of items we, and I mean Drivers' and our customers, have access to that aren't officially imported into Phileo City, at least not in the quantities we import them."

I blinked, took a moment parsing that, then blinked again and looked up at her. "Are you telling me you're operating some kind of black market for smugglers docking at Camden Yards?"

"Of course not, dear!" Then she spoilt her innocent look by smirking. "It's perfectly legal now, since the Imperator and Mayor both know about it and haven't said anything, and it was perfectly legal before, because the Mayor and the Council of Phileo City didn't know about it, so they never made any laws about it whatsoever."

I just stood there staring for a little bit until my brain spat out what seemed like the most innocuous question. "Are you where Marie gets her spices and stuff?"

She shook her head, then said, "only the imported ones. She buys her local spices at the market, or even has one of her sisters buy them over in Phileo."

I thought about that for a second, then shrugged. I hadn't discovered some massive secret. Or, really, this was more one of those secrets that everybody in town knew about, but didn't give a shit about, because it was only secret from people who would try to make money people couldn't afford to pay off of it.

So I just gave her another hug, shrugged, and said, "Thanks, Mrs. Driver."

"Any time, dear."

Weird thing, eating a bite of that cake before feeding the rest of my share to Saffron. Eating cake with Secret Imported Ingredients that... I guess Marie knew about them, but I'd be willing to bet that Headmaster Miles didn't. Or if he did, he still officially didn't.

So the kids ate the stew, and if they weren't very into it, Siobhan and Marie both liked it, as did Devorah, who'd come over to visit and try to surreptitiously return the toy I'd let her borrow. I let her know she could keep it as long as she needed it. Kinda fun looking at her and whispering, "why don't you bring it back... After." I swear her eyes took ten seconds to un-cross.

Fell asleep in the Bath, and slept well. Dreamt of Karen flicking cinnamon red hots into my Maw from way, way downtown. Dunno if they count as three point shots when she was aiming at something larger than most stadium parking lots, let alone basketball courts.

I think I'm getting the hang of Marie's daily chores. Cadet Laundry. Cooking both at the Academy and the Homestead. Watching over Saffron and Siobhan. Playing with the kids. Pampering the Marie. Okay, I added that one, but I'm not gonna drop it off the list now, am I?

Of course today mid afternoon she reminded me of something I hadn't done. Nothing terrible, really. Or it wouldn't have been if I hadn't let it go a week.

Our kids make a heck of a lot of laundry, and if it's not as sweaty as Cadet Laundry, Cadets are usually better about not getting food on themselves by accident.