Diary of a Teenaged Mimic

Dear Diary,

”It has been my experience that folks who have no vices have very few virtues.”

- Abraham Lincoln

Y’know, I read a quote like this one and I wish for just a few moments that I hadn’t paid attention when the teacher started talking about logical fallacies. Or that I’d been too mouth breather stupid to understand them. Or maybe that I’d gotten so fucking high that night that the memories washed away down the drain the following morning rather than burning themselves somewhere deep in my subconscious to pop out and remind me at times like this.

Like, yeah, that’s pretty much the whole fuckin’ problem with ’nice guys’ in my experience. If your biggest positive trait is your lack of negative traits, you’re just not gonna lube up the love tunnel, except maybe for ladies who are so traumatized that they think basic crumbs of human decency are a feast of care and attention. I mean, if you come at me with that lack of negative traits, you’re still probably getting laid, not only because I am a walking mass of trauma, but also because I am actively seeking admission into the Guinness Book of World Records as ’Sluttiest Slut to ever Slut’, and the odds that at any given moment I’m open to a pity fuck because it is, in fact, still a fuck approaches unity.

But I’m a bit of a freaky outlier, so if you’re looking to get a maybe exclusive partner of your very own, ’no negative traits’ is a great place to start, but you gotta bring something more to the table. Work out. Dress up. Learn cool trivia. Make art. Learn to cook. Tell jokes. Holy shit, if you’re looking for Super Secret Ultimate Panty Destroyer Combo move, that last pair is it. When she’s laughing so hard she’s having trouble finishing the perfect chicken parm you made her, the only reason she won’t be ’consenting enthusiastically’ is that she’s in too much of a food coma, and even then you might get the old, ’oh, no, my panties have disappeared and I have collapsed onto this bed, I do hope no one rails me until I lose consciousness from joy overload’. At that point it’s just a question of adjusting portion sizes until she’s got just enough room left for a full serving of eggs and sausage with homemade ranch.

Back to Honest Abe’s bit, though, even though I think he’s right, the fact that I have more vices than I can conveniently list does not, in fact, mean I have a single virtue. Denying the antecedent and shit. Oh, I don’t know how to do taxes, but I know not to deny the antecedent! Okay, that’s a lie, I totally know how to do taxes, because I have basic reading skills and I wasn’t polishing the pearl in math class until at least High School.

So yesterday was hella nice. Shortly after confirming that Saffron’s impressive sweater pillows do in fact function really well as actual pillows, Marie demonstrated why she’d flipped me face down by straddling me and, starting from the base of my skull, working her way down my back inch by fuckin’ inch, kneading me into a gooey relaxed mass with her claws. An interesting feature of Saffron’s pillows is that whole poultry timer effect every time my melty drooling face put her in need of being bonked with the horny bat. At which point she had Marie flip me over, put me in boy mode, and gave herself a thorough bonking from the inside before returning me to my regularly scheduled plumbing and herself to her pillow duties. I’m not certain, but I think at one point Marie paused for station identification. I could have looked in the mirror to check exactly what was going on, but that would have required moving my head from my pillows. No idea what’s with all the TV metaphors, but I think I’m putting a flat screen with all the channels in our little M-Space cottage by the sea.

At one point in there while Marie was working my calves into submission, Saffron tilted my face enough I could see her eyes and said, ”Goof? Are you awake?”

”Mmm... yeah. Think so. Good dream if I’m not.”

”Good. In the spirit of ’doing as we will’, I’m informing you in advance that the next time you start to spiral into one of your bleak moods?”

”Mmm?”

”I’m inundating your brain with every time Marie or I has ever indulged without your active participation.”

I think I drooled a little more. Not sure. World cold and hard. Tiddy soft and warm. ”Ooh.”

”Including today.”

”’M participle-ing.”

She smiled affectionately. ”Not actively, which before you argue any further is exactly what both of us want from you today. Now settle down before I need to interrupt Marie’s work again.”

Back at Lancaster House Maze sent Marie for her book of the day, then settled in to read the beginning of Wee Free Men to a rapt audience. I knew she’d gotten them good when my next scheduled sausage did not arrive, and I looked down to see Isnomi, rapt eyes focused on Maze, absentmindedly chewing on it. I proceeded to get my own food after that, although my tray depopulated pretty quick as not only Isnomi, but Daya and David both got into the surreptitious subconscious sausage stealing act.

I noticed when my two lovely wives collapsed back to the pair of themselves in the Shack when they both arched their backs in long, crackling stretches. This was, as you might imagine, impossible to ignore, what with Marie in the mirror kneeling on the bed and bending over backward far enough to put her palms on the floor, and my princess pillow lifting every part of me Marie wasn’t pinning to the bed like halfway up to the ceiling. Then she flopped back down and said, ”I don’t know how you do it, perching up there in the crow’s nest all day long.”

”Weren’t you the one who suggested doing it on the mast all day long?”

She plonked my face down in my pillows. ”Oh, hush you. We would be moving if we did that. And we can’t do that and keep watch.”

”Maybe you can’t. You set up the conference?”

She nodded. ”Tomorrow first thing in the morning.”

”Cool, cool. I think I’m better in the mornings.”

Marie straightened and said, ”Yes.”

I sighed, then said, ”no Worship tonight, please.”

That got a reaction. Marie flipped me front side up and both of them stared down into my eyes. ”As Worship helps you heal, we as your High Priestesses would like an explanation, please.”

I nodded. ”Yeah. Last night... I think the dream had something to do with Worship. So, y’know, please? Just for one night? Just to see? Maybe? Please?”

As I devolved into begging, Saffron put her arms around me, while Marie cupped my face and kissed my forehead. ”For one night, love. If your suspicions hold true, we’ll determine what to do from there.”

I felt both of them step away from the three of us, then we collapsed down to the trio of us in the bedroom, listening to Maze finish up a chapter. Tonight’s dinner wound up being chicken and waffles, but without Marie’s gravy of awesomeness. I didn’t pout, because I totally understood that we didn’t want our bed coated in syrup and butter, and I am a mature adult that doesn’t pout about things like that. Me mentally insisting that Marie and I do something gravy related with Saffron’s pillows had nothing to do with it, nor did the giggling agreement I got from both of them.

We settled into the tub with Saffron curled up on my chest and Menace and Marie’s horde hoard tucked in around us.

Mimic dreamt of sitting there all forlorn, even her dancing Kraken unable to console her. She tried to suck her recalcitrant tentacle like the world’s biggest thumb, but it remained stubbornly unsucked.

Woke in the morning as Marie lifted me out of the tub, with everyone else already lining up to use the toilet. ”Our new place is gonna have indoor plumbing, right? Hot and cold running water?”

”Abso... wait, hot running water?”

That initiated a discussion of everything I knew about literal plumbing, which wound up being precious little. Really I couldn’t get worked up about that, though, what with Saffron now knowing about the existence of on demand hot water. I did mention the whole ’in line water heating’ thing, which she liked. No idea how she’ll wind up doing it, but I have every confidence that our Big Fuckin’ Bathtub in our new house will have hot running water.

We made it to breakfast, and I felt good enough to move vaguely normally, if sorta slow. Spicy eggs and waffles for the win. I stole Saffron’s eggs and fed her my waffles. Which, now that I think about it, sounds way dirtier than I intended. Wow. Maybe I’ve secretly gotten the ’innuendo’ Skill. Don’t look at me like that. My horny on main comments are absolutely open and intentional most of the time. Doing subtle ones without intending to has got to be a Skill.

Fuck, I’m still kinda salty about not being able to get them.

So as soon as breakfast was done, I split one of me off to read with Maze, then the three of us stepped to Swanson’s office. The man was absent, but the door stood open and I could see a really, really big one of those old timey war tables set up in the room outside. You know, the kind with a map on it, and little figurines representing troops, and long scoopy pushy poles to move stuff around. The Norfolk guys stared at it like it was some kind of holographic AI real time satellite feed or some shit. Meanwhile General Hargreaves listened with wide eyes as Leonard Lancaster, of all people, lectured them on how to use it. Like, ’how to use a map table’. Wild, sometimes, the shit that counts as ’high tech’ here and now. Magic healing? Apparently spendy, but totally normal. High quality maps? Sorcery!

”Champion.” The moment he saw me come into the room, Lenny cut off the lecture, turned to me, and nodded in what could definitely be a gesture of deference. Normally I’m not the sort to notice subtle shit between other people, but I caught Weyson, the only other guy in the room wearing Clergy robes, giving Lenny a ’WTF, Lancaster?’ look. Lenny straight up ignored Weyson. I’m guessing there’s some one eyed monster measuring shit going on there, but Lenny hasn’t pulled any bullshit in recent memory and he seemed confident his testicles alone outweighed Weyson’s junk, so I ignored it and nodded to Lenny.

”Grand Councilman. You brought the map table?”

He nodded. ”My lord Odin graciously provided the vision of Calverton from above, and Cadet Aetos rendered that image with startling fidelity.”

”Cool. Are the numbers on there right?” I nodded to the little figures.

”Ours are correct in number, but the placement was my best estimate. There is one figure for each combatant of Heroic stature, then one for each typical combat unit of non-Heroic stature.” At that point he paused and nodded toward a second story window in the upper half of the room, where Olga peered in, then nodded toward Swanson. ”As Thralls haven’t generally had a standardized unit size, we took the liberty of assuming they’d be grouped as Prima Contubernium, with twenty Thralls per unit.” With that he reached into a long box labelled ’Navy’ that ran along the Bay side of the table and pulled out a single little carved board game piece that reminded me of one of those medieval pole arm formations.

Swanson took the piece and frowned a little. ”We’ve generally been letting them form their own groups, and just pulling them as needed.”

”Ah. Well. You know your men, Seneschal.” Weird, I’d never heard someone say, ’holy shit you dumbass how are you still alive’ so clearly before. Swanson leaned over to an aide and murmured something while Lenny pulled a few more pieces out of the bin. I kinda liked how the Phileo and Camden Volunteer units had a little gap in the middle that our Hero pieces slotted right into. As he sorted through and set pieces on the board, he nodded to me. ”Champion, I believe you called this meeting?”

I took a deep breath. Even if I showed my whole ass, what the fuck were they gonna do, un-Champion me or shit? Fuck, if they tried I was pretty sure Saffron would un-Alive them. ”Okay, Couple things. First, a question, just to confirm, how are we doing with our kill counts?”

Hargreaves opened his mouth like he wanted to dispute something, but shook his head and replied, ”they’ve been very low since your birthday Revelry. We’ve noted some groupings of Undead in the distance, but once again they seem to have dispersed close to the regions of the City we’ve secured.”

I nodded. ”Okay, what were the numbers looking like before that?” He stood there, mouth open, like he had no idea how to answer the question. I very carefully did not facepalm, because he was Calverton’s high commander and shit, and I didn’t need his morale going to crap. ”Tell me you’ve been keeping records?” Okay, face, hands, voice, I can control two out of three at any given time.

A titanium soprano cut through the sudden silence. ”We have.” Potami tilted her head in thought for a moment. ”We have put down a decreasing number of Undead each day since we secured the Docks, with the exceptions of the times after we have claimed areas abandoned by the Undead; immediately after those quiet zones the numbers rise to higher than prior to the quiet times. Is that the information you needed?”

I nodded. ”Higher than our initial numbers after we took the Docks?” She jerked her head back and forth once. ”Well. Fuck. Okay, how many of you know details on what happened with Marie and I last week?”

Potami raised her hand. Nobody else did. I nodded to her, and her voice clipped through the room again. ”According to Sergeant First Class Vickerson’s report, she called for support, Maenad Marie arrived and engaged a large force of Undead. One of Maenad Marie’s Co-Located duplicates fell, then you arrived amid the enemy and engaged them. Vickerson’s report confirmed observation of one Death Knight, as well as strong evidence of at least one Fell Sniper and one Lich.”

”Lich?”

”An Undead Mage.”

I nodded. ”Yeah. Definitely one of those. Death Knights are the armored fuckers?” At her nod and wry grin, I said, ”yeah, four of those.” I watched as Lancaster fished through the pile of Undead markers and dropped four armored ones into a box marked, ’confirmed destroyed’ at the far end of the table from the Bay. ”Wait, we know how many of each kind of Undead there are in town?”

He shrugged. ”We of course have the Mayor’s best estimate of Plague casualties, and we’ve included markers assuming all of those have risen. General Hargreaves also supplied us with estimates on fallen Warriors, Archers, and Heroic apprentices of all types. Did you destroy the Lich?”

I growled out, ”a little too much.” At his questioning look, I said, ”he pissed me off, then dusted before I could express exactly how much.”

He nodded. ”Did he have any identifying features?”

”He didn’t exactly leave ID behind, and he didn’t mention a name or anything.”

Lenny chuckled, then plucked a single ’robed spellcaster’ looking figure from a small grouping of them, setting it in the ’confirmed destroyed’ box. ”I imagine not. Undead aren’t known for their conversational skills.”

”Yeah. Dude was kind of an asshole. But that’s kinda what I wanted to talk about. From what I saw, he had some kind of direct connection to all of the Death Knights and... what did you call them? Fell Archers? In that swarm. Some of the basic bitches on the ground, too, and every one of those fuckers could tell where I was.”

General Hargreaves laughed. ”Well, you do stand out a...” He choked on his own spit as I pushed up my Blend and faded from his perception. Then coughed a bunch when I slid back into sight. ”Yeah. Knowing where I am when I don’t want that is Not Typical Behavior.”

”Perhaps he was more powerful than you?” Credit where it’s due, Lenny didn’t sneer.

Still pissed me off. ”Ask One-Eye about numeric values of fuckin’ Valkyrie some time.”

”Ah. No. Point taken. Had he been that powerful, I doubt we would be standing here today. Apologies, do go on.”

”Yeah, anyway, the couple Mage types I’ve taken down seem to be able to do that, to spot me anywhere within their Miasma. Pretty sure they can do that with anybody in range, too, since that fucker launched Miasma Lightning at Vickerson’s whole unit.”

Hargreaves let out something between a bark and a sigh. ”Thank the Gods for their Cold Iron.”

I facepalmed at that. ”Shit. I knew I forgot something. Still kinda glad I did, not sure if it would have held up to the wattage he was putting out. Juggled it back to his Death Knights, it popped their Cold Iron, at which point I Smited them in the balls. You should have seen that shit. Hilarious. They were all...” I started imitating a dude getting whacked in the balls, then realized the command staff were less than amused, even if they were hiding it because, y’know, Me Am Boss Lady, and my own Boss was standing beside me listening attentively. ”Anyway, right about then he got all chatty and calling me a whore, but right before he ashed he told me about some dude he called the ’Master’ and why are you all looking at me like that?”

Lenny looked at me while the rest gabbled more or less incoherently. ”It spoke? You’re certain?”

”I mean, he was an asshole, and my end of the conversation was hampered by a metric fuckton of Death Knight standing on my chest at the time, but yeah, he threw up a Mana Ward made out of Miasma, threw some Miasma Lightning around, and lemme tell you that shit stings, then when he had me pinned down by Darth McFuckface he called me a whore and started bragging about his Big Miasma Dick was gonna cornhole me raw or some shit. Then I hit him with the biggest Smite in the history of Smite, which didn’t quite break his Miasma Ward, then when he started bragging about the size of his Miasma Balls, Mimic decided to show me up and hit him with a Smite direct from M-Space. Before his fuckin head ashed, he spouted that shit about how his Master’s Miasma Cock was even bigger and more potent than his.” I shrugged. ”Then Marie turned Darth McFuckface into chunky confetti. But yeah, he spoke. And I think you’re missing the important thing here.”

Gotta hand it to Potami, she managed to avoid getting mired in the conversational tar pit I’d just sprayed all over everybody and hit the set by filling the room precisely with, ”which is?”

I spiked that fucker. ”The Undead are planning. They fucking... ambushed... Marie... They were ready for me to show up, too, and cut us off from reinforcements, even self-reinforcements. We’re hitting fewer of them each day, which since nobody’s mentioned a shelf life on these fuckers means they’re pulling back in a controlled fashion. They’re not trying to stop us, they’re trying to evaluate us. And once this ’Master’ guy has all the info he needs, he’s gonna start ambushing our Undead Killers the same way. Unless he gets ambitious and goes after our secure areas, or even tries to fuck with the Navy.”

”So what do we do?” whined Weyson.

I shot him a look, more annoyed by his whine than the question. I got a moment of feeling totally out of sorts when I realized Lenny was doing the same thing. ”How the fuck do I know? Yeah, I know, I’m in charge, but we all know I’m just the biggest fuckin’ hammer the Alliance has got, and this situation does not feel like a nail.” When people looked just a little too scared, I continued with, ”look, if shit goes so far south that we’re gonna, y’know, lose, I absolutely will do unto Calverton as a whole what I did to the Hole and treat it like the world’s biggest fuckin nail. But I think we’d really like to avoid that, since there are people who want to live here, and maybe even a few people who can be saved still. That’s why I brought all this information to you smart guys’ attention, so you could maybe come up with contingency plans and shit.”

”The Champion is correct.” Saffron’s voice rolled over them, drawing their attention to her. ”Gentlemen, Princess, our goals are still the same. Neutralize the Undead in Calverton, recover the City as intact as possible, and keep casualties as low as possible. Excellent work on that last, by the way. The last report continued to keep our combat fatality count to zero, and only one new non-combat fatality, which brings the total to two.”

Dafuq?

During your birthday Revel, a Thrall attempted to fornicate with a Jotnar and suffocated before he could be extricated from her. His fellows are still singing about it.

At that point my Kitten took over the meeting, getting the Command Staff thinking with their big heads, asking Lancaster for advice on organizational shit. Honestly, while the details are totally alien to the way I do things, if I abstract it enough I understand and totally agree with his overall doctrine. Don’t waste resources, gather everything into the biggest force you can, and then smash everything the enemy leaves available to smash.

Stood there for most of the morning, my muscles gradually knotting up. If I hadn’t been in so much pain, it would have been hilarious to watch the Command staff and their aides and shit getting more and more motivated to stop bullshitting and get shit done as my pain showed on my face. Something, something, something, Imperator’s Attack Dog Hungry, gonna eat the slowest or stupidest fucker in the room soon.

Fuck, Kitten, I wish to god I could get Loki to do his Soul Realignment thing today instead of tomorrow.

Before Saffron could reply, Loki’s voice slipped into my brain. Whoever said you couldn’t?

Gah... Fuck...What... Why haven’t you?

Why don’t you read the book to Maze? Why did you spend so much time telling her how to do for herself?

I closed my eyes, then the me in Lancaster House looked at the Saffron there. ”Kitten, could you take over for me? I need to go see Loki.”

”Of course, Goof.”

I collapsed into one of me standing there biting my lip as the Command Staff tried to back away without me noticing. Of course the Imperator’s evil grin had nothing to do with it, either. No way for them to know she was listening in on my conversation with Dad.

Boss? I’ll be there in a moment. Have the table ready. If you say one fuckin’ word, you are getting punched right in the fucking nuts. ”I’ll be leaving now, I need to talk with Loki about something in person. Marie is on overwatch, Imperator Sexypaws will make sure the plan you guys come up with doesn’t suffer from terminal cranial rectal inversion. Later.”

I stepped to Loki’s cave, banishing The Dress and her boots to my altar in our Academy Suite. I lay face down on the table and groaned as he brought his hands down on my poor abused body and Soul.

Thanks, Boss. You’re the best.

”I know.”

”Mom? When he’s done unfucking my shit, punch Dad in the nuts.”