Diary of a Teenaged Mimic

Dear Diary,

Y’know, sometimes I forget exactly how good a teacher duBois can be; I might get pissy and consider cancelling plan ’duBois Retirement Sexcapade’ now and then, but on the whole, the man has earned his Gold Retirement Watch many times over.

For those of you wondering if I ever actually think about anything but sex, the answer is ’I multitask, but if you reviewed the full task list there’s probably at least one sex-related item on there at all times’. It’s a zero calorie, zero cost hobby, and there are no free online video games here.

So yesterday in Advanced Mana Shaping Cadet Smith came back and monopolized both Saffron and I. Okay, that’s not exactly fair. More Cadets than just Smith were trying to work up a Mana Blade that used Mortal levels of Mana to get its Blade on. Thing is, where I’d heard Saffron cut somebody off in Advanced Healing during the Smite discussions, she hadn’t done that to Karen. My poor Goof brain figured out some time halfway through the afternoon session that the only reason she would let Smith keep asking the same question, or asking for me to extrude and retract identical Mana Blades over and over and over was because she wasn’t.

Just because I couldn’t really grok the difference in her questions or requests, and even Doc Roberts was giving Karen the stink eye, didn’t mean my Kitten didn’t see a difference.

As I extruded my gajillionth Mana Blade of the day, this one from my ring finger on my right hand, I asked, ”Hey Kitten?”

”Yes, Tabitha?” She sounded a little distracted, and I couldn’t for the life of me tell if her clock cycles were going to careful examination of my Blade, watching Karen like a hawk as she examined my ring finger Blade, or something else, like reinventing Global Inspect from absolute scratch, or rebuilding the entire infrastructure and society of the tri-state area and beyond.

”Cadet Smith hasn’t been asking the same question over and over again, has she?”

I had no idea precisely what I’d done, but I counted it as an absolute win when suddenly not-distracted Kitten smiled up at me, giving me little tingles and a wash of Happy Brain Chemicals at the same time Smith glowered at me, looking like she half wanted to test her latest Mana Blade attempt on me. ”Of course I haven’t been! Whether I like either of you or not, I recognize your time is a valuable resource, and won’t waste it.”

Saffron tilted her head away from me, turning to Cadet Smith like she was about to light into her, but instead her smile went from admiration to serene calm. ”I understand your iterative approach is, in fact, valid, if indicative of a lack of inspiration or mathematical ability, so I’ve not cut you off as I had the folks going in circles on the Smite project. However, Tabitha has been patiently humoring your requests without that understanding, but simply due to her generous nature. In my considered opinion, the least you can do is maintain a friendly professional demeanor.”

”Why should I play silly political games with the two of you? I’m trying to advance Phileo’s interests by turning the most potent offensive spell ever seen into something usable by more than a short handful of people.” After a short pause she continued, ”and make meaningful improvements to it while I’m doing so.”

I think Saffron’s been hanging with Sister Siobhan, because she totally managed that beneficent smile Siobhan does so well. ”First, the Alliance’s interests are Phileo’s interests now. Oh, I know there will always be petty differences between merchants, social circles, and the mean concerns of lesser Deities, but you are developing a weapon. Weapons are used by Heroes and the military, both of whom fall under my jurisdiction. The military in its entirety, the Heroes whenever leaving their local City. But any weapon you develop? Will ultimately benefit the entire Alliance.”

”Second? Those ’silly political games’ you so despise? I’m currently playing one which, should I win? Will end with every child born in the Alliance living to see adulthood. If weapons and military power are all you can see? Think on how many Volunteers will be ready to march when the population of Phileo outpaces that of New Amsterdam. I know complex math hurts your head, but even you can see that if only one in a thousand has the talent and drive to become a Hero, then multiplying the population by ten means ten times as many Heroes.”

Karen cut in with a grumpy, ”we’ll still be limited by charter to five hundred.”

”Yes, Phileo will. If I am successful, Camden Yards will be similarly limited, as will Newark, and with those three Cities all applying pressure to the ’political games’, New Amsterdam and Calverton will limit themselves likewise. But since you seem to be limiting your horizons to Phileo, which of course it is your right to do? Ten times as many qualified Candidates means that the Academy, instead of taking in every Candidate willing to step forward? Will be able to limit their selection to the best one out of every ten, instead of the best of every two the Phileo City Heroic Academy currently accepts. Even you, with your limited mathematical talent, can understand how that will affect the power of our individual Heroes of that generation, not to mention the ones after, where even more Candidates will apply?”

”My arithmetic is without flaw, Aetos,” Cadet Smith hissed. Somehow despite her totally disrespecting my Kitten, I couldn’t get worked up about it. Probably something to do with Saffron sitting there, utterly unperturbed, like a garden variety toddler was threatening to punch her in the shin.

She smiled and let out a small, benevolent sigh. ”Archmage Aetos-Diaz, if you insist on referring to me that way. I’d almost considered suggesting you just call me ’Saffron’, since I can respect your dedication to your work and cause. But I’m afraid as Imperator I’m obligated to play ’political games’ enough that I can’t just ignore it when your disrespect becomes too blatant. All that aside, I’ve been trying to think of a way to tell you this discreetly, but your arithmetic is not the problem, it’s the fact that you think arithmetic is in any way going to be sufficient to calculate the proper Shape for the Mana Ward you intend to add to your Mana Blade. Which is a brilliant idea, by the way, but in order to stand the slightest chance of developing a reliable shape, you’ll need to learn Geometry, Trigonometry, Variable Equations, and Mor-Mimic Calculations.”

At any other time I might have been crowing and laughing at how Cadet Smith’s face just kinda went from arrogant bitch to vaguely worried socially awkward nerd to woman utterly lost at sea, but just then I couldn’t be arsed. After spending the morning in a purring pile of peace, I just let her whole schtick wash over, through, and past me without it affecting me in the slightest.

”That... You...” I saw the moment she realized that to the best of Smith’s own understanding, my Kitten was right. I mean, of course she was, because ’Saffron equals correct’ is Just Science. But then she had to fuck it up again by barking out, ”those last two aren’t even proper Maths. You’re just making them up.”

Saffron just leaned further into her whole ’enlightened guru speaking to a talented yet ignorant young student’ role. ”Study of Variable Equations is required for any Archmagi who wish to calculate their own Shapes rather than praying to some Deity or another for the tricky bits. I doubt many who are not Archmagi know it. Frankly, I’d posit that any Mana Shaping Researcher who understands Variable Equations is only a Patron with Mana away from joining the ranks of the Archmagi.” At that point her serene visage froze into a hard mask for an eyeblink, leaving me thinking I’d imagined that shit. ”As for Mor-Mimic Calculations, I learned that branch of Mathematics from the Weyland Smith, who agreed that naming it after my Patron and her Pantheon was, indeed, the most appropriate choice.”

Everybody in the class just kinda stared at my Kitten with expressions between amusement at how thoroughly she’d shut Cadet Karen fucking Smith down to growing horror at how she’d just dropped not one but two ’nobody says that name’ Names into casual conversation.

Gotta hand it to Smith. She rallied and said, ”so, are you telling me you’ll no longer assist me with my Project?”

Kitten cocked her head and replied, ”no longer assist you? Why would I do that? I’ve simply spent the morning calculating roughly how long your iterative approach will take before you are likely to see results, and offered you a faster path to success. But I do admire your determination.” She took hold of my arm and snuggled herself into me. Kitten boobs soft and warm, Tabitha likey. ”I’m fond of such, even. So do go on. With your generous donation to my wife’s academic success? Neither of us has anything better to do than help the rest of you, and I really do think your project is the most ambitious and well thought out of any of the Mana Blade Projects in our class.” She turned to me. ”Unless you’ve grown too bored, please do continue to assist her, love?”

Holy shit, Kitten. I’d slow clap, but I think they’d take it the wrong way. You must really feel some kinda way about Cadet Smith here.

She just smiled serenely up at me. Why do you say that?

You took a break from your personal research back in class just to school her here.

Her smile got wider, with maybe the tiniest measure of sauciness added to it. Oh, hardly. I’ve simply had to deal with Ophelia Orange in a similar manner so often that, much to my chagrin? I’ve now developed ’Verbal Beatdown’ as a Skill. Similarly, if with far less embarrassment, I’ve also earned ’Lecture’.

I couldn’t help it, I just smiled at her, affection sloshing through me like some kind of sweet alcohol. High Priestess?

Yes, My Goddess?

I am prouder of you than I know how to say. You get a Boon.

My Kitten was so cute when she blushed. What Boon, My Goddess?

Haven’t decided yet. Probably a good idea for you to think of something before I get bored, though, or you’re liable to wind up with something stupid like ’Spontaneous Hourly Overwhelming Orgasms’, ’Random Radius Clothing Reduction’, or maybe ’Guaranteed Goofy Giggle Fits’.

She got the cutest little pout on her face. How long do I have to think of something?

I shrugged. Dunno. Till I get bored. The next moment a pair of us sat on the edge of our bed, and she whipped a leg over to straddle my lap, her lips seeking mine like a missile in heat. Is this distractionary Canoodling?

I felt her lips curve against mine. Absolutely.

I smiled back into her mouth, realizing that both of us had the same silly smiles on our faces in class as Karen stuttered out her next Mana Blade request. Oh Priestess Blessed above all others, your Goddess heartily approves.

You’re just looking for an excuse to drop another Boon of questionable utility or sanity upon me.

Guilty as charged. Good thing I’m so easy to distract, huh?

I spent the rest of the day seeing how often I could get Saffron to break into giggles hard enough to interrupt her Canoodling. Either the one on the bed with me, the one on the roof with me, or the one hiding in the Library with me. Seriously, my wife is best wife, and absolutely knows how to utterly captivate my terminally ADHD ass.

After two solid hours of triple canoodling? I felt so utterly at peace with the world I was willing to bet I could calm the tits off an enraged Canada Goose two falls out of three.

Mimic’s triple cycle of stargazing, not seeing Dommy Mommy, realizing you saw Dommy Mommy by not seeing Dommy Mommy, hiding under herself, forgetting why she was hiding, and flopping around to stargaze? Utterly incapable of harshing my calm.

The following day I still felt absolutely loose when we hit Combat Training. Walked out to where duBois waited for me in the middle of the Yard, draped around Saffron like a big old Goofy shawl, nibbling at her ear while she tried to explain whatever the fuck ’Mor-Mimic Calculations’ were. ”You know something, Kitten?” I asked the fourth time I managed to get her to trail off mid-sentence.

”What’s that?” she purred.

”I think Bonnie’s got the right idea. I’m just gonna pretend to be a perpetually horny article of your clothing from now on.”

I might have said that a little louder than I’d intended. Like, y’know, ’out loud’ in the first place. Marshal duBois snorted, then burst out in a brief bout of laughter. ”Is that why his letters back here lately have gotten a little disjointed?”

I snorted. ”Letters? Shit, he probably writes those in private. Which means she doesn’t have to give even the token fuck about propriety she does in public. If she’s not straight up crawling under his desk, I’m thinking he’s dictating them to her while she sits on his lap.” The loosey-goosey no thought that had collapsed into stream of consciousness bullshit then blurted out, ”heh. Dick-tate,” then started snickering.

Fortunately, all else aside, my inner twelve year old and duBois’ shared the same sophomoric sense of humor. ”That’d explain the hearts dotting his ’I’s, at least.” After the two of us got our mutual snicker on, with Saffron adjusting where my hands draped over her so she could nuzzle the side of my face, he sighed and said, ”in all seriousness, though, we’ll probably hear back about which ship you’re going to duel for within a week or two at most, so I’m gonna try and get you as ready as I can to fuck those big bastards up.”

Without really thinking about it, I Co-Located to drape myself over him as well. ”Okie dokie! Ready to get my shit wrecking learn on, Marshall.” I wanted to shout that, but the best I could do was a kind of self-satisfied smirk in auditory form.

What followed was a morning of him demonstrating various submission holds on me. Or trying to. Some time like an hour before lunch he growled out, ”dammit, Diaz! You can’t just noodle your way out of every submission hold I show you!”

As I went absolutely limp, probably limper than really humanly possible, and blorped down onto the pavers, I said, ”not with that attitude.” Then I Mana Bladed his left pinky toe off for like the two dozenth time today.

”FUCK! Why my pinkie toe?”

’Cause I’m gonna bang you on every piece of furniture in your room?

Tabitha!

Okay, Kitten. You’re right. ’Cause WE’RE gonna bang you on every piece of furniture in your room.

She snorted as she once again blasted his toe back into place without moving from her tailor seat twenty feet away. She did it one handed, too, her other hand stroking her Tabitha-shawl. My wife best wife, eternal Zen headpats achieved.

Right around lunch, when he was about to give up on teaching me to wrestle when I’d somehow achieved a state of fuck-vacuum enlightenment, I had a thought. ”Hey Marshall? The biggest Jotnar down there are like a hundred and twenty feet tall, right?”

”Thereabouts, yeah.”

”And the really dangerous Duelists are the Jotnar, right?”

He shrugged. ”There are a couple exceptions, but if you can beat all the Jotnar you’ll be left with like one or two non-Jotnar duelists in that tier. Also, the really big Jotnar aren’t the best duelists. Tallest you’re likely to face in a Duel is sixty feet. The hundred twenty feet guys aren’t Duelists, you’ll fuck them over, harder and faster than anybody in Norfolk will believe.

”Okay, that’s even better. Loki Powers Activate!” Then I Mimicked the size of my own left boot recursively until I stood about six inches tall. Looking up at him from below, I piped out, ”oh, yeah, it’s all coming together. This is gonna be some good fucking training!”

We spent the rest of the day sparring like that; up to a dozen pint sized mes doing my best to get him to give, while he stomped, backhanded, and otherwise Attack-on-Titaned me to death in dozens of splattery ways. Hurt like a bitch, but somehow I managed to retain my calm throughout. Okay, no real trick to that; a pair of Saffron and I had infiltrated each of the Equipment sheds and the basement storage rooms, and between those six pairs and the three pairs in yesterday’s hidey holes, even being stomped into paste couldn’t piss me off. I mean, hurt like a bitch? Oh, hell to the yes. Did I respond by jabbing him in each ass cheek with inch long Mana Blades, not to mention yet again lopping off his left pinkie toe? I mean, we were full contact sparring, right?

Right about when the sun dipped below the wall around the Yard, he stepped back, waved me off, then stretched himself backward until his elbows hit the pavers, crackling like rice crispies as he did so, then straightening with a huge sigh of relief. ”Weird, but I think this is probably better training than the grappling I’d been doing with you. Not like they’re gonna try to do anything fancier than just picking you up and squashing you anyhow.”

I collapsed all the various Co-Located mes and Saffrons into the pair lounging beside where the Marshall and I had sparred, the pair in our otherwise empty bedroom, who I silently declared our dedicated Antics-having pair for the evening, the now normal sized one of me holding out a hand to him, and one final pint sized me on my own shoulder. ”Yeah. Good spar, Sir. Thanks!”

He took my hand, pulled me into a quick back-slapping embrace, then stepped back. ”Glad to help you out, Diaz.” Then he sighed, looking just the slightest bit melancholy. ”I kinda know how Leonard feels, you know.”

”How so, sir?”

”I still have tricks that you don’t, and stuff to teach you. And I will. But...” he trailed off and heaved another sigh. ”Hell of a thing to find a protégé after at least a decade of looking, only to have her outgrow me in less than a year.”

”D’aww. Sir. That’s so sweet.” I stepped up and pulled him into a hug. A chaste one, even. One that people who didn’t know my wife’s burgeoning obsession with getting me to livestream Happenings into her brain would even consider chaste. Then I stepped back, tapped my forehead in the World’s Sloppiest Salute, then finally, as I collapsed almost all of us back to the pair exploring how kinky chaste activities could get in the bedroom, called out, ”oh, yeah, just so I don’t forget...”

I swear I heard it even through our room’s soundproofing. ”WHY MY FUCKING PINKIE TOE!?!”