Diary of a Teenaged Mimic

Dear Diary,

Sometimes I really wonder if I’m the right person to be doing the ’judgement of everyone at the end of time’ thing. Seriously, when I really think about my own impulses regarding ’judgement’, I recognize the pattern of a domesitic abuser.

No, really, I’m not one, but as I’ve mentioned, pattern recognition machines, and there’s a pattern there to be recognitioned. If somebody does something wrong that pisses me off, especially if it’s somebody that has all the power and money and ability to survive consequences without existential elimination, I blow a gasket and do horrific atrocious things to them. I mean that literally, by the way, because some of the shit I’ve done is an absolute horror show, and also things like I did to Lyssa were atrocities.

Meanwhile, if I’m not hurt or pissed off or otherwise under the influence of a rush of cortisol and I discover that somebody’s done horrific shit themselves, my impulse is to be sweet and kind and understanding. Maternal, even. Even to folks like Artemis. Shit, Artemis is practically a case study in me being a serial abuser. I maimed her, tearing her nose off and turning her arms into useless lumps of flesh. Then I healed her. Then I tortured her to death. Then I Revived her.

So yeah, I’m not sure I’m the best person to do that end of Time judgement thing. At least not like I am now. But it’s not like I don’t have time to maybe grow and learn some between now and then.

Thing is, there’s also the side fact that here and now folks of the Divine persuasion don’t seem to learn very well. They’re like one of those dudes that runs into an obstacle and starts head butting it until it breaks. The obstacle or their head, only in this case most of those Deities were the ones doing the headbutting, and I was the obstacle, which meant mostly their heads break.

I mean, yeah, there seem to be a few who have altered their course once they saw how the wind was blowing. Artemis became Diana. The Weyland Smith became Conrad. Loki... By his own admission Loki now is almost nothing like the Loki he was before he got imprisoned.

That’s true, Daughter. We have, all of us who have come in contact with you and had the humility to do so... Changed.

Oh. Oh, shit. That’s all my fault?

Dad’s pure, kind chuckle echoed through my head. Oh, my beautiful Daughter, of all the Deities of this world, only you would find fault in yourself rather than taking credit for the vast improvements you’ve inspired.

Hearing him say that kinda floored me. The beautiful part as much as him telling me I’d been responsible for vast improvements in a group of Deities that included him. I... I dunno what to say.

Yes you do, Daughter.

I had to chuckle at that.

Yeah. Yeah, I do. You’re the best.

Only because you’ve made me so, Daughter.

Yeah. That kinda blew me away, too. I mean, yeah, all I had to do was Change. Change myself, become more, become better.

I tried really hard not to think of how ’pull yourself up by your bootstraps’ was originally an insane troll logic example of shit that wasn’t possible, or was downright fuckin’ stupid, like plugging a power strip into itself. Or about the story one of my science teachers told me about his uncle.

Dude’s uncle was a heart surgeon. Pretty successful, wound up with enough in the bank to build a whole fuckin’ new cardiac wing at the hospital he operated out of in Sioux City. Funded the whole thing as a purely humanitarian thing. Reporters came out to see the dumbass who’d dropped eight figures to name a new hospital after his dad, and one of them asked the question, ”if you needed open heart surgery, where would you go?”

Of course, dude was expecting them to say the new cardiac wing, but Unc proceeded to think, then talk about how they had a nice spot out in Grand Rapids. Of course the reporter had to ask, ”why not here at the new cardiac wing?”

Unc’s response was pure gold. Looked the reporter right in the eye and said, ”because I’m the only qualified heart surgeon at this hospital, and it’s a mite hard to perform on yourself.”

Yeah, so I don’t know if I can really make myself better. I think I’m gonna need help. I’m gonna need a lot of help.

Fortunately, for some inexplicable reason, I’ve got a crew who are interested in helping me.

So when I got home from teaching yesterday, I was kinda beat. I’d had to bow out of helping with dinner to deal with fuckin’ Aphrodite. We’d intended to make bear steaks and loaded baked potatoes, but after I left Marie, culinary Goddess that she is or at least ought to be, pivoted to deep fried, extra crispy bear tendies and steak fries served with a few big tubs of dipping sauces. Some garlic thyme sauce, some tomato vinegar stuff, and some of her sweet gravy.

After the first bite of bear tendie, crisp and crunchy on the outside, melt in my mouth tender and savory on the inside, I pulled Marie into my lap, leaned against her chest, and murmured, ”I don’t deserve you.”

She threaded a claw through my hair, pulled me away from her, and glared into my eyes, her smile predatory. ”Do Too.”

Then she fed me tendies until I forgot what I was talking about.

In the Bath, Saffron slipped in behind me, letting me rest the back of my head against her breasts. I’m not sure how to explain it to anybody who’s not a girl kisser, but something about the consistency of mammaries makes them just absolutely perfect pillows. I’m not even talking about sex here, just soft, comforting warmth. Then again, who it is an who they are to me might matter as well. Probably does. Still gonna say that anyone who gets the opportunity to use Saffron’s sweater puppies as a pillow and turns it down is just plain stupid.

”Love?”

”Yeah, Kitten?”

”I had a thought about your session today.”

I groaned. ”Ah, shit. That’s today.”

”It is. I think we both know you need it, as well.”

She wasn’t wrong, but she normally wasn’t quite so insistent. ”Why do you say that?”

”You seem to be particularly down on yourself lately. Or perhaps I’m just now noticing. I’ve been an incredibly poor wife in some ways.”

I sighed. ”Nah. I mean, you haven’t been here to hold my hand every second, but you’ve had important shit to do. You’re doing serious work.”

She chuckled. ”And you’re not?”

I snorted. ”I’m a Math and PT teacher. tell me you couldn’t find someone else to do both.”

She shook her head. ”You might be surprised about that first one, since Doctor Roberts was unable to find your mysterious Mister Houck.” Probably because he was looking in the wrong universe.

”Eh. Still, I’m just teaching kids.”

She sighed. ”Which has the potential for far greater impact on the future than any wrangling of entitled fools I might do.” Before I could say anything, she shook her head and said, ”both are important, certainly, but I’ve not been able to support you like I should have because of it. Also, while your contributions to the Alliance during your recuperation may not be as immediately obvious as mine, your greater contributions have been things no one else could do. Your valleys may be lower than my peaks, but your peaks are...” She chuckled. ”I was thinking of Jackville, and your peaks are higher than even most Gods would consider achievable.”

”I prefer your peaks.” I rolled over, and she giggled at me. World cold and hard. Tiddy soft and warm.

”I was thinking we could take the children for a sleep over at your parents, then have Tallulah, Sigyn, and Marie bring them back for a day outside.”

I stiffened. You sure?

”The perimeter is guarded. The Wards have been reinforced. The Homestead is secure.”

I forced myself to relax. If you’re sure.

I am. She raised her voice. ”Children, as soon as we’re done in the Bath we’ll be going to your Grandparents’ for a sleepover.”

Funny, the kids had been doing some kind of singalong game, but when Saffron made her announcement, the typical ringleaders got everything shut down and everyone out of the Bath and dry in record time.

Once everybody had a pillow, nightgown, stuffed animal, or whatever they needed to sleep, I picked everybody up and stepped us to Mom and Dad’s place. Dad sat there with a kind of bathrobe thing on, and Sigyn had a nightshirt.

When I raised an eyebrow, he said, ”evenings have been cold as of late.”

”Aren’t you immune to cold?”

He chuckled. ”My wife complains should I be too chilly.”

Sigyn laughed. ”If he wears naught to bed, and we have no blankets, he sucks the warmth right out of me. Not a way to Win.”

Minutes later we had a couple big piles of kids; some on the big bed with Grandpa Loki, some actually atop him cuddled in around Sigyn, and then the rest of us next to the bed where the Mom Collective and a few of the less rambunctious kids had snuggled in.

In the morning, after a breakfast of fish, bread, and some kind of greens, Sigyn, Marie, and Tallulah took all the kids home, leaving me with Loki, Saffron, and Siobhan.

”So. Um... What...”

As we all settled in around his table, Siobhan said, ”over the past few weeks you’ve said things to each of us that indicated somehow you feel like you’re undeserving. Like you’re a failure.”

I opened my mouth to reply. I tried. Eventually, the only thing I could force out was, ”I am.”

Siobhan shook her head. ”No, Tabitha. No, you are not. You may, on rare occasions, fail to live up to your own standards. But you do not give up. You get back up and try again. And thus, while you may sometimes fail, it is not your defining characteristic. You are not a failure.”

I whispered, ”kinda did. After Yule.”

”Did what?”

”Kinda gave up.”

She shook her head. ”And yet you are here now. You fell. You fell harder and further than most of us are capable of, but again I say, here you are.”

I slumped. ”What do you want me to say?”

Saffron took my hand. ”Whatever you need to say. We three are here not to judge you, but we also will not allow you to deceive yourself. Especially when it comes to your views about yourself.”

It took me a bit. I spoke in fits and starts, but I talked about being the leftover kid. The one nobody wanted. The one who ruined my sister’s life. The one who only got into the Academy because somebody filled out the paperwork wrong.

Each and every time, they gently pointed out where I’d been... Not lying to myself. Not really. But definitely looking at myself in the absolutely harshest light possible for no good goddamned reason.

Dunno why, but by the end of the day, my face was sticky with dried tears, and I felt almost like they’d spent the day bullying me. Only not, y’know, by saying mean or hurtful things. But by refusing to let me say mean and hurtful things about myself.

Ain’t that the fuckin’ weirdest kinda thing?