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Diary of a Teenaged Mimic
Day Five Hundred And Seventeen

Day Five Hundred And Seventeen

Dear Diary,

"If someone finds joy in you,

Take that as a compliment,

But you do not owe them yours."

Doctrine of Tabitha, Book of Ecstasy

Yeah, this is kind of the flip side of yesterday. If you're in that position of celebrity, you gotta accept that you're gonna be some people's whole reason for being. Which, if you never intended to be a celebrity, but sorta wound up one, that really sucks, but just like if you never intended to give birth to a neruospicy hellspawn, but one popped out your hoo hah, now you gotta step up and be the best parent you can. Like, if you involuntarily wound up the focus of a cult or some shit, and that is not your thing, you don't have to encourage them or show up at their cult meetings or whatever, but if all they're doing is sending you fan mail, putting up a sign out front of your house that says 'thanks for all the fan mail, can't reply to all of it, gotta pay rent' isn't too big an ask, I don't think. Or, y'know, putting that up as the header on your Facebook page or whatever,

I mean, if you then start getting letters full of cash, enough to actually pay all your bills, it might just be worthwhile to become a full time writer of thank you notes. Or at least take some PTO and write those notes, because that's just polite. If you set out to become some kind of celebrity, like a streamer, musician or, I dunno, actor or something, and you go viral and people are paying you for used underwear and bath water, be minimally polite. Doing otherwise is just stupid. Unless your whole thing is being the bitchy mean kind of Domme or something? I guess some people like that kind of thing. Doesn't seem healthy to me, but I am not exactly an exemplar of mental health. Literally a Goddess of Bloodlust who pals around with the God of Divine Madness. I get that I'm a Moral Compass because, y'know, Deity, but Moral Compass and Mentally Healthy are not the same thing, no matter how much I wish they were.

Of course, just because the right thing to do when someone says, 'you bring joy to my life' is, at a minimum, even if you don't like them that way, say, 'thank you, I didn't do it for that reason, but I'm glad somebody's getting some happiness here' or some shit like that, that does not mean you gotta rewrite your whole persona just to fit that person's idea of you. Fuck, you ain't gotta change jack shit even if an entire fuckin' religion says you're their messiah and they're all gonna off themselves if you don't. Like, fuck, that would be so fucked up. I can also see certain types of assholes engineering shit like that. So, yeah, polite acknowledgement, but nothing more than that, at least not according to me, and I'm the Deity writing the book.

So yeah, yesterday Saffron and I explored the southern part of the Chesapeake Bay. Not to mention what Kraken sex is like. I dunno if she's studied Kraken, or a lot of it was instinctual, Kraken are just naturally nasty like that, or we totally fucked everything up in ways that would have healthy normal Kraken hiding their eyes and screaming 'you crazy motherfuckers that doesn't go there!', but holy shit that was some freaky tentacled wackiness. Sixteen arms each, lots of openings, some of which might not have been there when we started, or maybe we just got way rougher than we should have. I know at one point it felt like she was tickling my brain, and I'm pretty sure she found the pleasure centers thereof and dropped a Stabilize on me at one point. There might have been some mutual extremity consumption. I'm honestly, seriously, really not sure, because after one particularly intense exchange of intense mutually mind blowing mantle penetration, we both kinda came to laying on the Bed.

Weirdest part for me was that even after going at it with a literally inhuman number of limbs and orifices for the better part of the day, our first reaction was some really intense tonsil hockey, followed by Saffron taking charge and recreating our first encounter for my benefit. Like, clumsy passionate intense awesomeness. I'm not gonna say 'when we finished', because I kept asking for and she kept providing encores, but eventually she laughed and said, "we need to get back for bath time".

"Aw, c'mon, do we really need a..." At that point I actually kinda inhaled through my nose, and realized that we did, in fact, smell like we'd rolled in the silt at the bottom of the Bay for hours on end, literally grinding it into every opening on our bodies. That thought and smell was almost enough to harsh my happy, but.... almost. Nothing could really break that level of happiness.

Of course, when we arrived at the bath room everybody, kids included, took a long step back. "Why don't you two go first?" asked Siobhan.

"Yes." announced Marie, who then stepped away, stepped back with some gray powder and long handled brushes, and proceeded to scrub us clean, douse us, empty the tub and scrub it clean while we dried off, then burn the brushes.

As I took my time making sure her magnificent mammaries were, in fact, as dry as it was possible to get them with a towel, Saffron looked at Marie and said, "oh, please. It's not like we were coated in Hole Spawn offal."

"Bay?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"Precautionary."

And that was that. We'd been away a bit, especially me, so the rest of the women took a little time reassuring themselves we'd come back intact and everything. With my new understanding of my whole 'celebrity they'd based their world and future plans on' status, I couldn't bring myself to begrudge them each their time. Y'know, it kinda went past that. I wasn't just tolerating it. I leaned into it. Not in a bad way. Not, like, forcing them into anything. But greeting each of them by name, poking Saffron for them when I didn't remember. Talking about what they'd done over the past couple, but not in a 'checking up' kind of way. More just letting them know that I cared about them, personally. Because I did.

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Yeah, the whole 'don't remember all their names' thing sounds weird next to that, but I didn't know them all by name. I knew the blacksmith, the three Actual Lumberjacks, which included the muscly one, the strongwoman one, and the skinny angry one. I knew the Woodworkers who'd gone logging with them, the big furniture maker, the little furniture maker, the paneling maker, and the one who did little decorative shit. After a month or more of working with them, beside them, near them, I knew them. I just... didn't know their names.

So weird. Also so weird that I didn't know if that was because of the Blessing or because I just never had a chance to learn their names before. Like, apparently I'm spending more nights away than I used to, but I'm actually doing less crazy dangerous shit, less shit that left me with zero energy for the kind of quiet socializing we did this evening.

Chicken tendies on waffles for dinner. Win!

Dreamt of the ladies dressing Dumpling Saffron up in a big fancy dress made of dumpling bits, then lowering her into the maw to Pomp and Circumstance. Shit. Now I'm wondering if they have that tune here, or it came from my own subconscious. Also, while I know that technically I'm an Academy graduate, or might as well be, I don't remember ever hearing Pomp and Circumstance like, at an actual formal occasion centered on me, or a group of people I'm a part of.

I wonder if she'd mind if we played that at our wedding. Like, okay, I get it, Bridal Chorus as she comes in, but maybe Pomp and Circumstance as we leave? Maybe? Please? Shit, I'm begging my own Diary when I need to be begging Saffron and Marie for this. Fuck, Marie, really. She's the one marrying into our existing marriage, so she's the bride, right? Wait, are we all brides? Do we all wear bridal dresses?

Saffron!

Woke to her stroking my hair before she ever really woke up. We did not, in fact, have any music at our wedding. It was very informal. But if you want music, my love? There will be music.

Yes.

"I love you two."

"What about me?" faux-complained Siobhan.

I felt Saffron grinning as she glomped herself around Siobhan, pushing Ice Pop's face down into my wife's incredible cleavage. "Oh, no! Our Concubine is feeling unloved! Aid me, Wife! Aid me, Fiancé!" So we wrapped ourselves around her and snuggled Siobhan until everybody else was up and ready to go.

Spent the day watching over the construction from atop the tower. Kinda weird, felt almost like I'd done something like this before. Also felt weird when Murder Mittens showed up mid morning and dropped off a pair of antique spotter's binocs. Made it so I could get at least something of a close look at everybody doing their thing, which meant I stopped getting all worked up whenever anybody stopped moving for more than a second. Don't get the wrong idea, I wasn't pissed, I was worried they'd gotten hurt or some shit. With the binoculars I got to glance down and see that yeah, they had all their limbs and their precious bodily fluids hadn't leaked out through superfluous holes. They were just taking a quick break, or a nap, or whatever.

Saffron stayed up there with me. Well, one of her, I think she had a Grand Council meeting to go to, and another of her working on how to un-Bless me. But around lunch we had a bit of a chat.

"So. What do we know about whatever's coming from across the Atlantic?"

Saffron sighed. "Precious few details, because your Kraken followers, in general, care little for those of us who live above the surface of the waves." She shook her head. "But we do know a few things. First, those are not English hulls, nor are they from any of the human nations of the Celtic Isles."

"How you figure?"

"Oh, I showed a sketch to Svart and a few of our other shipwrights. Then to a few others. Finally, to one of Tallulah's shipwrights."

"Oh, shit."

"Oh, shit, indeed. Those are Fae hulls. And that means Sidhe, or something related, aboard."

"Related?"

She shrugged. "The most likely thing, from my research, is a Bane-Sidhe. A type of Fae which bears a superficial resemblance to a Sidhe, but is not one. Not too many remain, as The Morrigan essentially gave them an ultimatum to join her or die, and then enforced that. Those who do, however, are old, cunning, and have the explicit support of The Morrigan." She paused. "But that is only one possibility. There are others. None worse than that, though."

I nodded, took a deep breath, and let it out. "So. Earplugs?"

"Or just kill any of them who take a deep breath. They're murderous, love. Because I know you prefer it, I am prepared to allow anyone to state their case, but should they draw a weapon? I am prepared to end them before they use it. And make no mistake, a Bane-Sidhe drawing breath is a Bane-Sidhe drawing a weapon."

"Good to know. I'll keep an eye on them, but if you see them do anything needing perforating, you tell me if you can't do it first." She nodded agreement. "Anything else?"

"I just wish I knew how fast the... Humboldt travel."

I shrugged. "Twenty-five miles an hour, give or take."

She just turned and looked up at me, a weird smile on her face. "Only you." After a minute of smiling at me, she said, "well. That means whoever they are, they'll arrive in no more than a week, no less than three days, depending on weather and their actual destination. Although..."

"Yeah?"

"I cannot think that they intend any destination other than Phileo or Rich Man's Port. I'll speak with Tallulah on the morrow to see if she knows who it might be, and to be sure she's not sent for aid from the Celtic Isles."

I frowned. "You think she'd try and fight us?"

Saffron shrugged. "I didn't get that impression, but perhaps she feels she needs power of her own in the face of the Alliance, just to deal from a position nearer parity? Or perhaps she sent for supplies of Fae grains, since her fields have yielded rather less than normal this year."

"Oh. Yeah. Fuck. Sorry about that."

Saffron just grinned up at me. "Oh, don't be sorry, love. If the worst you do this Season is set off a minor diplomatic incident while intoxicated, I'll call it a slow Season."

"Oh, that's go... HEY!"

Couldn't really complain all that much. No, really, she kept my mouth busy one way or another for the rest of the day.