Diary of a Teenaged Mimic

Dear Diary,

”Passion is your inner fire,

That will warm your life and love,

Let your freak flag fly proudly!”

- Tabitha Diaz, Doctrine of Tabitha, Book of Passion

In this, the final Verse of the Book of Passion, Tabitha reminds us of what Passion is, or should be. It is that which drives us in life, that which can warm the cold of existence for even the most forsaken of us. It is the fire that ignites within us when we look on our Passion, when we indulge in it, when we surround ourselves and suffuse our Soul with it.

When we find our Passion and make it the centerpiece of our lives, it not only warms our lives, it can warm those around us, most especially when that Passion is for friends, for family, for partners platonic, romantic, and sexual. But even when our Passion is for our profession, our vocation, or our avocation, when it lights a fire in us that burns so brightly any looking upon us can see it, that light can guide others to their own Passion, to the place or person or thing that will warm and drive them.

So we must seek out Passion, and when we find it, drink it to the dregs. Not with shame, or hesitation, or some misguided belief that the joy it brings us is wrong, but with pride, not only that we’ve found our Passion, but that in doing so, we’ve made the world a more joyful place. For that is what our Goddess desires for us, for all of us, to live lives full of as much joy as possible.

- Priestess Most High Above All Others, Archmage Imperator Saffron Aetos-Diaz, Commentary on the Doctrine of Tabitha

That’s... Y’know, I know I say this a lot, but I think it way more often than I admit. I’m not qualified to be a Goddess. I’m snarky, petty, depressed, forgetful, and even at my best I’m a walking mass of trauma. Nobody with that much wrong with them ought to have the kind of power I have. Shit, I’m not sure if any single person ought to have that kind of power, even if I’m increasingly suspicious that someone has to. Like, that the here and now universe needs someone with that kind of power extant in order to function. But if somebody has to, it ought to be a legitimate living saint of some kind. Somebody with self-awareness, self-control, self-respect. Maybe even a little bit of self-love. A Buddha, a Christ, a... shit, even Siobhan would be a better choice for this shit than me.

But I’m what here and now has. And when I hear Saffron describe me that way, when the woman who has seen all my fucking mistakes, all my greed and pettiness and shittiness on display can see that what I really want is that, I think maybe, just maybe, I can be enough.

I’m not sure, mind you. Okay, I’m about as far from sure as I can be. But she hit the nail on the fucking head with what I want. If I knew how, if I could flip a switch and make everything right for everyone forever, I would flip that fuckin’ switch so hard. Even if it made everything right for assholes like Zeus and Odin. Because at the end of the day I think that’s why I’m so iffy about Justified Homicide and Vengeance; if I were given a choice between a blissful world for everyone or a world where everyone got their just desserts, I would choose bliss.

That’s a problem. I know it is. Pure sugar isn’t as sweet as caramel. Steak doesn’t have the same savor without some sour or spice to kick it up. It’s part of the fuckin’ Human or Human Adjacent condition, I think, that we’re not cut out to really enjoy purity, even something as simple and wholesome as pure bliss. I dunno, maybe there are people who can. I sure as shit don’t know any of them, though. So maybe some struggles, some challenges, some imperfections are a necessary part of a fulfilling life.

Seriously, if I were to go to my ladies and say ’set up a rota, I do not want to leave a pre-, post-, or mid-orgasmic state for the rest of eternity’, I’m pretty fuckin sure they’d be fighting over choice slots. Position, body, whatever, my point is that I would not be unfulfilled for the next forever. Pure, literally orgasmic bliss, and having that option available, I choose not to take it.

Don’t get me wrong, when we get Boltophsberg sorted and Siobhan decanted and recovered, I’m seriously considering doing that for like, a week or so. Or at least another long, long session of concentrated bliss. But I think part of what makes it so awesome is the contrast. Hell, wouldn’t that be a thing, if the reason I enjoy my sex life so much more here and now is the chronic pain. That’s a thing that should not be, but then my chronic pain stems from old injuries, not some kind of debilitating condition.

I ought to make a note of that, when Saffron and Siobhan are both more or less available, to have them look into chronic conditions and how to fix them. Because while there are some folks who will say ’no, this condition is part of me and defines me’, there are others who would absolutely push that ’pain go away now please’ button as hard as it took to make it happen.

So when Ivan finally faceplanted on the table, I looked around and saw the kid, whose name I still didn’t know. I waved him over, and when he got within easy conversational distance, asked, ”what’s your name, kid?”

He looked a little weirded out that I’d asked, but his hands flashed, Ilya.

”Okay, Ilya. D’you know where he,” I nodded to Ivan. ”Sleeps normally?” He looked a little weirded out, but nodded. I slipped my arms and a few surreptitious tentacles around Ivan and lifted him gently into a princess carry. He murmured and grumped a little, but kept snoring. ”Okay, let’s get him to someplace comfy to sleep, shall we?”

Turns out the tavern had rooms, and either Ivan had one or he and the kid had enough sway with the owner of the place to use one. Either way, I loosened his clothes up a little so he didn’t choke himself or some shit, turned the covers down, laid him on the sheet, and tucked him in. ”Sleep well, Ivan Ivanov. Dream of happier times with those you’ve since lost.”

The kid was leaning against the wall looking a little put out, so I pulled a couple coins out of my purse, pressed them into his hands, and said, ”get yourself some, uh, dinner. Lunch. Whatever. Get some food in you, you’re too skinny.”

Stepped back to the Homestead, cheeks burning, when he grinned saucily at me and signed, yes, Baba.

Don’t know why he called me that, or why I felt so embarrassed by it. Baba Yaga’s a badass, just like me. Only reason they’d give John Wick that nickname, right?

Co-Located myself to the spots I’d not gone to this morning, what with focusing on Ivan and diplomacy. When I lifted Saffron from her coding chair, slid under her, and slipped my arms around her waist, Saffron murmured, ”how did it go?”

”Lil bit drunk still. Ivan’s not a lightweight.”

Mild snark lacing her voice, but not hiding her smile, she asked, ”so, you know how much he weighs now?”

”Ayep.” At her faux-sharp side eye, I continued. ”Carried him off to his inn room. Took him to bed. Then tucked him in and left him to sleep it off.”

She smirked. ”So sad that you’ve not suborned him properly.”

I shook my head. ”Still a little weird that you think I ought to be doing that. Besides, wouldn’t work.”

She spun around and straddled my lap. ”Whyever not?”

”Don’t you have coding to do?”

She buried her face in my chest. ”Done.”

I nodded, then blinked. ”Wait, what?”

She pulled back, ”I almost wish that you were slightly more sober, so we could celebrate properly, but I’m done. All that remains is to push it live.”

”Why not now?”

She chuckled. ”Because you are nowhere near sober, and I’d like you to be a little more in control of yourself when we do. My self-control is good, but not good enough to control the Shaping of a Global Spell while you’re actively distracting me.”

”Aw, c’mon. What makes you think I’d do that?”

She leaned in and whispered in my ear, ”because if those were hands and not tentacles, you’d be wrist deep.”

I froze. ”Uh...”

”Oh, you stopped.”

”Sorry.”

She brushed her lips across mine. ”Don’t be. I’ve told you how much I enjoy it, not to mention given you blanket permission. I’m a grown woman, I know how to say ’stop’.”

I pouted a little, mad at myself. ”But I should be waiting until you say ’go’.”

She smiled and shrugged, utterly unconcerned. Then she looked around the Academy office before leaning in again. ”So... go.”

Might have been a little distracted as well as drunk while doing sous chef things for Marie. Went with large amounts of easy self-serve food. Fried rice. Salad. Soup. Bread. Thought about doing shaved ice, but couldn’t think how to get the ice. Funniest thing had to be when I nudged Marie for a kiss, and she humored me, she tasted wrong. Something missing, and I couldn’t tell what it was. Wasn’t until my confusion leaked through to my ladies that Saffron distractedly thought, you’re higher proof than she is at the moment.

Never realized that before. I mean, that Marie was literally intoxicating, sure, but didn’t realize it was just part of the whole Marie flavor.

Got home, ate dinner, Co-Located through the dining room to feed all of my ladies while they sat on my laps, bemused.

Stayed just a little Co-Located in the Bath, enough for one of me to play with D and the girls and the kits while another of me lay in the middle of my ladies, arms and tentacles wrapped around them, massaging gently. Siobhan eventually murmured, ”someone’s affectionate today.”

”Yeah. Read the Commentary on the last Verse of the Book of Passion. Decided to live up to that, at least when I can.” She got the cutest little pout on her face. ”What’s wrong?”

”Don’t have my Commentary yet.”

I frowned at Saffron. ”Why not?”

She slid over to Siobhan and slipped an arm around her. ”Because our Darling hasn’t finished her Trials. Discommended during pregnancy, not to mention a distracting pregnancy like hers.”

So I just nuzzled her and said, ”it’s okay, Darling. You’ll get there. I have faith in you.”

I have no idea why they all snickered at that. Like all four of them.

Dreamt of my ladies all reading passages from the Commentary to Siobhan while she tried to pretend they weren’t. Not super happy, but I think they were tryna help, and she just wasn’t in the mood to be helped.

Today was kind of a rest day for me. I went with Saffron and Tallulah to sit and watch them do politics. I played seat cushion for Saffron while she tinkered with the new Inspect setup. Apparently we didn’t do it today because I was ’still a little drunk’. Meh. We necked a lot. Did the same, a lot more gently, with lots of intermittent breaks, with Siobhan. Doubled down on my normal number of me doing the Maid thing, mostly ’cause I felt like I hadn’t been pulling my weight in the laundry. Which I did. Also did some cooking with Marie, mostly pastry and bread related things.

But mostly I played with the kids. Well, ’played’ in the case of Lindsey, who is taking her agricultural career with surprising seriousness. Alex helped her out. Maze and Ria joined Menace in working with the Nightmares; we had them all walking in circles on the Courtyard stone. After I realized that I did not hear ’clop clop clop’, but ’clickety, clickety, clickety’, I had the girls move to dirt and grass instead of rocks. Don’t know if that would be better for horses, but something about catlike paws on hot stone seemed like it wouldn’t be comfortable.

The... not most fun thing, but definitely the one that gave me the biggest warm fuzzies, was spending time, by special invitation, in first David, then Daya’s rooms. In both cases, having them give me a makeover. Okay, they didn’t call it that, but Daya did my nails after David did my hair. They both worked on the makeup. If I looked a little over the top by the end of the day, fuck it.

Worth.