Diary of a Teenaged Mimic

Dear Diary,

”When I come home, my daughter will run to the door and give me a big hug, and everything that’s happened that day just melts away.”

- Hugh Jackman

Holy shit, I’ve got something in common with Wolverine! I mean, other than anger issues and surviving shit that ought to turn me into human pâté. I guess it’s pretty obvious, what with me being the nominal leader and actual shit wrecker of last resort for an entire military campaign and just not talking about it that much. Unless something particularly brutal happens, that’s just, like, my day job. My nine to five. I’m really more impacted by my libido’s increasing need for full fillment than I am in Smiting rando undead, and neither of those holds a candle to the warm, safe feeling I get when I’m surrounded by kids just being kids.

I kinda want to hang around all day at Lancaster House and play with them, but I’m pretty sure it’s better for her social development to be hanging out with kids her own mental age instead of having mama there hovering over her all the time. Let’s face it, I’d probably want to wind up playing whatever rugrat game they’re playing more than providing general Mom services, but that doesn’t change how the kids would see me. Also, I’m kinda on the big side compared to even Liam and Maze, and I think they’re the biggest two in the posse and the horde hoard. Not exactly fair playing tag when your legs are longer than your competitors’ whole bodies, and not as fun when you can’t just run around screaming like a maniac.

Wait. Shit. My brain just put together ’her own mental age’ and ’I want to go play with them’. I guess my inner child really is not so inner sometimes.

So yesterday morning we all got up and did the morning kid thing. While we did, I spent my short breaks between toweling tots to stare at my Kitten’s bodacious tatas. She noticed me staring and smiled at me, maybe kinda sorta shifting just slightly to give me a better view. Nothing, like, graphic or anything, just maybe a five degree shift in the angle she was facing. Amazing how that tiny change can alter visibility. Also amazing how she can manage ’cute’, ’hot’, and ’boss’ all at the same time.

Maze walked between Marie and I, swinging and skipping, letting Saffron bring up the rear rather than attempting the double swing thing. When we got to the table, I asked my daily, ”so, Maze, may I marry your mama Marie?”

She, of course, shook her head. ”Not yet.”

I would be patient. I would wait as long as it took. I would not rush anything or push harder than gentle nudges, unless somebody asked me to. Marie was definitely worth it.

Spent yesterday split between overwatch from the Black Dragon’s mast, which was boring, reading the ’dad’ sections of the self help books in my little library, which was a little frustrating, but maybe informative, and cajoling Saffron into endless laps, which was sweaty. As the sun touched the horizon, with no shenanigans on my part, mind you, I smiled at the drippy footprints she’d left behind her and said, ”too bad Marie needs us for tot duty tonight.”

She just snorted, Grinned up at me, and replied, ”Marie tells me dinner is roast chicken. Which, while it will obviously be excellent, with Marie working with the Lancaster House cooking staff, will not require nearly as much attention as the chili did last night.”

Because I am apparently an idiot I scrunched up my nose and said, ”that’s cool and all, but why is it important?”

She just laughed, leapt up to squish her sodden slacks against the belly of my jacket, locking her ankles behind me and kissing me before pulling away no further than nose to nose and saying, ”so we’ve got an hour until Marie needs us when you don’t really need to be paying attention to what’s on the table?”

”Hey! I like paying attention to what I’m eating! Stuff tastes good!”

The Grin eclipsed my world and took over my brain as she said, ”I am well aware of that fact, and definitely expect you to do so. Waxing poetic about it tasting good afterward is entirely optional.”

Gotta say, the Lancaster House roast chicken wasn’t half bad. I kinda wanted fried chicken and waffles though. Also, the cheesecake was excellent.

Y’know, I think there’s definitely something to that, a kind of extra bonus parenting boost you get when your brain has been force fed endorphins and shit. Kitten smiled more than normal while scrubbing down slightly greasy post roast chicken tots, and I sure as hell got playful rambunctious while cycling them through the pot. Peek a boo with the small ones, picking some of the bigger ones up and swooping them over to clean up in the tub, spinning some of the others around while they giggled. I think I even got a smile out of Daya, although it’s kinda hard to be sure. Maybe just a little twitch of her lips before she turned to go have Saffron dress her. It might have been for Saffron, really, but I couldn’t even feel some kinda way about that, because I was having too good of a time sharing that happy shiny smiley feeling with the kids.

Looking back on my own childhood, I wondered how many of the times some couple with their kid was really goofy happy about dumb little kid shit like pushing their rug rat on a swing and how much was having had some alone time prior, or looking forward to it later. Like, I get warm fuzzies from everything we do with the kids. I’d deny it to the grave, probably somebody else’s grave, but I even enjoyed the re-diapering thing and the putting them on the pot thing a little bit. But it’s a deep, warm kind of feeling that makes me smile, not a head spinning high that makes me giggly and playful. Not better, not worse, just different. Also, very peanut butter and chocolate, even if it requires Divine Boons or really good timing to manage.

We all snuggled in, with Isnomi and Maze spooning together facing Saffron in the middle of us. If Menace felt some kinda way about being Maze’s new favorite sleepy time plushie, she didn’t show it. She did, however, start purring the moment she fell asleep. Don’t know how universal the whole Bag purring thing is, because Maze didn’t. Then again, while she might be feeling a lot less consumed by frustrated rage at the world now, I could totally see if she wasn’t nearly as comfortable with us as Isnomi was. Then again, maybe Isnomi would help her adjust more than we could. That whole peer thing, after all. Which I am not, despite really wanting to get in on the games of tag and hide and seek and shit like that.

In the morning, as we cycled the kids through potty, bath, dry, and dress, I decided that secret Sapphic Saffron sweaterless sweater puppy seeing was my new favorite thing. Okay, it was only really ’secret’ from the kids, and they probably realized I was watching Saffron, but since I wasn’t doing anything but looking and smiling like an idiot, I think the worst I got were a few head shakes and pronouncements that I was, in fact, ’the silliest of mamas’. Which just made me smile harder, because I had a whole fuckin’ horde of kids calling me ’mama’. Not something I’d ever planned on or pursued, but here we are.

Right around when Maze brought up the tail end of the group, I said, ”doesn’t this interfere with you getting ready to, y’know, manage the Grand Council and shit?”

As she scrubbed Maze’s hair, she tilted her own head in thought. ”I suppose it might, just a little. They are somewhat more mature, less prone to running off and doing their own thing, and getting them on board for something all at the same time can be a chore, but I guess that’s why I enjoy our little ones. They’re so much less work than managing the council.”

I laughed and lifted a clean, dripping Maze from the tub, spun her around once, then set her on her feet and patted and squeezed her dry. Once we were all clean, dry, and dressed, which took a little more work than normal what with the sweat that dried on all of us. Oh, no, extra reason for Saffron and I to be all handsy and grabby with our hands coated in suds. Hell, we didn’t even get all smexytimes with it, just super over the top lovey dovey and flirtatious. Okay, yeah, there was tit grabbing going on, but boob sweat is no joke.

When we all got to the table, as I let go of her hand, I looked to Maze and asked, ”so, do I have your permission to marry your mama Marie?”

She looked up at me, smiling coyly, then after doing a classic pondering look for a few moments, she said, ”Maybe. Not yet.”

Today Saffron and I decided to spend the day dancing. We Waltzed, we Tangoed, We even did the Samba a bit. Not nearly as sweat drippy as running, nor did it pour quite as much raw magnetism into the air as lifting, but we got to move around, arm in arm, hand in hand, intimately aware of one another all day long.

On overwatch sus alley wound up throwing a third red flag. I slipped over to find the troops standing there looking over a simple wall, lined up in good order with Norfolk style halberds. Ex-Thralls then, although their leader wasn’t a Karl; she looked like another Thrall that had maybe found some nicer armor somewhere. ”Hey there. What’s going on?”

She nodded. ”Majesty. A horde of Undead awaits beyond the far end of the alley. Should they attack, we cannot hold.”

”Thanks. Hold here, I’ll be right back.”

With that I shoved my Blend up, dropped over the wall, and strode forward. As I did I split myself with each step. Two, four, eight, at sixteen the feedback got a little rough, so I dropped back to eight and shaped Smite while arrows flew over my head from the far side of the street. I ghosted through the horde of undead, Smiting one after another, ashing them all. Arrows kept falling out of the sky, not aimed at anything in particular, but just dropping down near recently Smited Undead. Mostly they just provided an ongoing clatter. A couple Undead got turned into pincushions. A lucky arrow took one of me right in the eye, cutting me down to seven. I screamed and kept Smiting. Ash rained down around me, the world narrowing to ash and arrows and screaming.

Then the Undead in the street were gone, but arrows kept raining down from the rooftops. I stepped to the rooftops, and more arrows flew. Another of me dropped, and then I went back to back with my selves in a tight circle, then shaped six massive Fire Bolts. Flames blasted out in every direction, and ash and molten metal slopped across the roof tiles. Which subsequently lit on fire.

Annoyed, I dropped six big Create Water on the rooftops, then collapsed back to one of me standing next to the Thrall commander. I dropped my Blend to normal, pulled her in and went to do that cheek kiss thing. Little bit surprised and a lot in sudden need of transmitting the fuck out of my current situation when she turned her head and kissed me back. Not what I’d been jonesing for, but fuck that woman had some tongue skills. When she pulled away, her hands slipping away from where they’d clung to my face. She smiled surprisingly shyly at me, and I coughed a little bit, then smiled and said, ”good girl,” while her unit cheered us. I collapsed back to Marie, my face a little heated. Marie smiled and took the opportunity to let me compare a talented ex-Thrall to a millennia old Maenad in terms of tongue skills.

Meanwhile, back at Lancaster House, I got a rush of brains to the head and snagged Maze, stepping us both back to the suite. ”Hey, Maze, you wanna go read for the day?” I could tell she wanted to say yes, but still hesitated. I grinned a conspiratorial grin, lay a hand on her shoulder, and Mimicked her. ”I can fill in for you here.”

She nodded, and I Co-Located myself to our Academy Suite, shifted back to myself, and settled us down on the bed, with Maze in my lap, for another session of Wee Free Men. Meanwhile, I pranced down from the suite as Maze and joined in on a day full of chasing, hiding, seeking, and general little kid mayhem.

As the day wound to a close, I smiled thinking about how every now and then, life smiled on me and I had a good day.

Then realized I’d just cataloged a day where I died twice as a ’good day’.

My life here and now is so fuckin’ weird.