Diary of a Teenaged Mimic

Dear Diary,

That man is seriously risking his Gold Retirement Watch.

Okay, so lately duBois has had us doing the whole stretching, holding, buddy lifting exercise thing, right? I've been grooving on it, getting some subtle Saffron-in-unlikely-position watching moments in, enjoying pushing myself in new and interesting ways, trying to think how I could put the positions together into dodge, recover, counter sequences. Surprisingly cerebral stuff for gym class, y'know? But he still worked us so we saw progress. I mean, holding a fingertip handstand for twenty seconds didn't sound like much until I realized I could only hold it for ten seconds the week before, and a month before I'd have smacked the shit out of some non duBois person for suggesting I even try it without some of those big gymnastics pads spread over the floor.

Now? Twenty five seconds minimum, and when I can't hold it if I can't manage a controlled dismount to my feet I can just roll out of it, barely noticing the impact of my shoulder on the pavers.

Okay, my right shoulder. My left shoulder still gives me shit when I try it. But it's coming along.

So after some positively inspired canoodling on Saffron's part last night I slept pretty well. Only one bad nightmare, and I got back to sleep without ever really waking her. Okay, if she remembered me asking, "can I get a strap on and ride your ass like I stole it?" she didn't mention it in the morning, and the only response I got as I drifted off to sleep was a murmured, "Wll see, k sweetie?" followed by some snoring. Woke up at the end of the Bored in a Box dream, really fucks with my sense of 'is' and 'isn't', if you see what I mean.

We got to breakfast, where for some reason the only protein at our table was spicy eggs. I mean, I'm not complaining exactly, but there's usually some sausage, some bacon, sometimes lately we'd gotten nuts and black beans; those are both good for protein too, I think. At least when I used to use them back in Camden in place of meat, I didn't wind up with the hungry-an-hour-laters very often. But today? Nothing but eggs. Spicy eggs still, which as noted are my favorite, but I had to share more than normal with the rest of the table.

I mean, I didn't have to. Nobody's made a rule out of it or anything, and I know I could just eat all of it before they got any kind of reasonable amount but... around about the second tray I felt bad. I slowed down and started playing with toast, because while we had nothing but eggs, we got some butter along with the cream cheese, and even a couple ramekins of some kind of fruit paste. Jelly, Jam, 'Preserves', I can't tell the fucking difference, but it's all pretty good on top of toast and butter.

'Wait', I hear you saying, 'the Human Maw slowed down her eating?' Look, asshole, just because I want to Nom All The Food doesn't mean I'm going to let my peeps starve, y'know? And now I've just realized that I reacted to my diary like it responded to me like I would respond to me if I saw me do what me do. Does. Look, I'm all introspective and stuff!

Wait, what was I talking about again? Oh, yeah, weirdly underfooded breakfast followed by Physical Training.

In the morning, duBois had us start with some basic Endurance training, although for my part he insisted I maintain the fastest pace of anyone on the field, and he made me run on the outer track while the rest of the class ran on the inner track. Of course the Barbie Brigade took that as an excuse to do wind sprints to push me. Fuck me, but they've been getting better, too. Faster. More Endurance. Worst of all from the perspective of everyone with a brain and me, they've been learning. They took turns doing wind sprints, so every damn lap a different one broke into a sprint as I passed. By the end of the first hour of morning PT, I was fuckin' soaked. Stoked, too, because despite teaming up on me three on one, I'd managed to outrun all three of the Barbie Brigade Bitches. Team Indestructible for the win!

Next he moved onto more posing and stretching, which got Saffron all pissy with me. Okay, not, like, really mad at me, but just sort of done-with-this-shit testy. When I asked her why, she just made a face at me and told me to ask her at dinner. I dunno, maybe I got some sweat in her eyes or some shit when she was holding me above her head in a handstand. I mean, after all that sprinting? She got an absolute Pumpkin Spice Shower.

Shit, if I wind up spawning, are my tits gonna wind up spouting Pumpkin Spice Lattes? Yet another reason for me to join Team No Centipedes In MY Vagina.

Anyhow, around the end of hour two, duBois surprised me again by doing an hour long lesson on the one thing I'd never expected here at the Academy.

Dancing.

I mean, not like, real dancing, the kind of thing you do when the music shakes your bones and makes you need to move, but surprisingly none of that enormously white Square Dance bullshit either. He spent an hour teaching all of us classic Ballroom shit, starting (and, okay, ending) with the Waltz.

"The reason I'm teaching your classmates the Waltz, Lancaster," because who the fuck else would bitch about duBois teaching everyone else Ballroom Dancing, "is because not only are Heroes expected to be nominally proficient at social skills in case they're called on to be diplomats, but also dancing can be excellent endurance training, and finally because Ballroom Dancing is an excellent way to practice coordinated movement with a partner. Now, Rider, step on up here and we'll demonstrate the steps for everyone."

Oh no. Someone else got to be duBois' dance partner slash example slash teacher's pet. I am die forever of shame.

I mean, yeah, obviously getting to stand there watching was better than having to stumble around backwards while everybody stared at me, but I swear my brain is still twisting up a bit about how I actually cared about being the first one duBois picked for stuff. I think I must have got hit with some dain bramage at some point. Anyway, he gave Rider some good pointers about how to properly let someone else lead, then pulled Rosen to the floor and gave us a lesson how to lead a partner effectively. By letting Rosen lead. I just stared, openmouthed, as duBois slipped effortlessly into what I subconsciously thought of as 'the Bitch role'. Still got some of my brain caught up in processing that, as well.

So after he spent an hour cycling us all through both leading and following him, we all partnered back up and danced around the courtyard for an hour. Beautiful Saffron inverted our arm positions when she tucked my left hand under her coat, sliding it just a tiny bit into the waist of her pants as it collapsed on itself and crumpled. When I tried to slip it further down to get a nice firm grip on her ass, just to lead her through the Waltz better, I promise, she grabbed it again, breaking every bone in it before sliding it a little further around her and saying, "Rest your arm's weight on it, Goof. You can play with my ass later if you dance well enough."

Decided right at that moment that obviously learning the Waltz was key to my future success in too many ways to ignore.

The weirdest fuckin' thing about the whole lesson, though? No music. Zero. At one point about ten minutes in it freaked me out enough I raised a hand until I got duBois' undivided attention.

"If you gotta take a leak, hold it until Lunch. If you're feeling carnal urges for your partner, I don't want to hear about it," he paused half a beat before continuing, "hold that until Lunch too."

I shook my head, barely holding in my laughter as I replied, "Nah, not that. I mean, yeah on the urges, obviously," Saffron politely yet firmly stepped on my foot, "but why don't we have any music playing?"

He snorted explosively, I think hiding some creative profanity, "I swear to the gods you can be denser than any mortal has right to be, Diaz. I just told you I didn't want to hear about it. As for the music, it's a crutch. I mean, once you learn to dance properly without it you could consider it an effective force multiplier, but if you learn with it you'll forever need it."

"I mean, you sure about that, Sir?" I leered at him, and for a few steps led Saffron with her standing on tiptoe on my toes.

Morson cut into the conversation with a rumble of, "I could stand to hear more," but I ignored him, because I'm all mature and shit. Also, I had a follow on question.

"Can music be a force multiplier for coordinated movements in combat, Sir?"

"It absolutely fucking can, Diaz. After troop movement calls, and even integrated into some of those, it's the most prevalent use of music on a battlefield."

Saffron decided I'd redeemed myself and returned to her own feet before calling out, "Marshall duBois, I've read that music is used primarily to affect friendly morale on the battlefield?"

He barked out a laugh. "You'd think so, and yeah, there are some Cities that do that, but frankly? They're all substandard, militarily. Music used to communicate is a bigger force multiplier, and coordinated movement itself affects the ratio of morale more than just some friendly horns tooting."

"How so, Sir? Ratio?" Saffron wasn't half bad, but we both knew she'd stumbled half a dozen times already while asking her questions. Mostly due to all of my awesome girlfriend's incredible brain's tendency to laser like focus, leaving little to no brain power to work her feet, but also because she really wanted to lead. If she'd been leading, though, I couldn't have straight up carried her through those bits where her feet stopped feeting. My left arm more or less burned itself from inside out with acidic lightning every time I had to, but these are the sacrifices we make for those with superior canoodling skills.

"You know what a ratio is, Aetos. Coordinated movements are a microcosm of units acting as units. Not only that, but on a battlefield music is used to direct units as well. So when you combine the effectiveness of group commands communicated through music, the boost to coordination that makes units work together better, the morale boost that comes from being one part of a larger killing machine, and the effect on enemy morale when they see one big mincing machine bearing down on them instead of half a dozen troopers? Yeah, way more effective than 'toot toot, magic flute'."

"Thank you for the explanation, Sir!"

We danced away the rest of the morning. We took turns leading, although I had a big sad when Saffron put her arm in the proper leading position. Like that I got to lay my arm on hers, and despite the constant disintegrating burn at the point of contact, it really did take a lot of the weight off it.

Then Lunch. Sad got bigger when Saffron nixed my idea of spending some or all of our break eating something other than food, but she insisted I needed, 'calories, and protein, and nutrition', or I wouldn't be able to 'do that freaky healing thing you're doing' as well. Worse, lunch was an apparently endless supply of Shoe Leather Beef.

Then, after lunch, Marshall duBois threw the gold watch he didn't realize he might have had right in the damn toilet. "Okay, Cadets, this afternoon we'll be doing the reverse of what we did this morning. Dance for two hours, then Isometrics for one, then running for the last hour." That got a bit of a cheer from those of us who'd liked getting to be a little more partnery with our partners. Okay, mostly from me, but Saffron smiled and clapped a little, and of all people Rider and Rosen actually cheered a little. Who knew? Anyhow, then he had to go and spoil the whole fucking thing. "For this afternoon's Dance and Isometrics, however, I'll be pairing you off differently. Diaz, front and center!"

Suspicion tearing through me, I presented myself front and center.

"Lancaster, front and center!"

Despite a sudden urge to scream 'the fuck you say?' in his face, I kept my expression remarkably calm. Okay, duBois smiled a really evil amused grin at the look on my face, only losing it when Lancaster whined about not dancing with a Bag Bitch.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that, and pretend I don't know exactly how many of the men in your family are fine with dancing with young ladies of the Bag persuasion as long as it's in private, horizontal, and the lady doesn't mention it afterward."

Lancaster went puce, but before he said anything but a strangled, "Sir!" duBois continued.

"Lancaster, a good portion of the incoming class is Bag. Plenty of our nominally Human Cadets have some Bag ancestry; its rare for a pure Human to have enough affinity for Magic to do everything our Academy expects of Heroes. More to the point, and this goes for you, too, Diaz, so wipe that shit eating grin off your face, at some point in your Heroic career you'll likely find yourself in a position where the only thing standing between you and being shat out the wrong end of some monster to fertilize the soil is a Hero you would gladly cross the street to piss on even if they weren't on fire."

He glared at us long enough to make sure there wouldn't be another outburst before continuing, "at that point, you'll need to coordinate long enough to get your collective asses clear, or better yet kill whatever's threatening you, because if it can make a meal out of a Hero, it's going to be an absolute disaster if it gets to a farm, a village, or gods forbid the outskirts of Phileo City itself. Now, convince me you've got the point."

I turned to face duBois, snapping to full Attention and shooting him a salute before saying, "I will do my best to accomplish the mission, SIR!" before turning to Larry and reaching out toward him.

Of course we both reached out with our lefts, trying to put our rights on each other's left shoulders.

"I'm both a Lancaster and the man, Diaz. I lead."

I stopped, brought my hands down as I stepped back half a step, then glanced to duBois. "Sir, can you let us know when an hour has passed?" When he nodded, I turned to Larry and stepped forward, laying my left arm along his, reaching out with my right to clasp his left hand, looking him square in the eye as I ignored his hand sliding down to my mid back and saying, "You get to lead for the first hour, Cadet Lancaster. Then it's my turn."

See? I can be mature. Sometimes. When I vaguely suspect I'll be carnally rewarded by my petite genius.

I want to tell you all about how Lancaster can't dance for shit, but it's a bad idea to start lying to my diary. Arrogant? Yeah. Cowardly? Probably, although I'd gone to lengths to break him, so maybe he might be less cowardly with someone who hadn't made him lose bowel and bladder control simultaneously with a Stabilize. Just generally a massive dick, probably making up for having a micropenis? That's just facts. But other than the half-creep move of having his hand spread across my ribcage rather than on my shoulder blade, he lead passably well. Nowhere near as hot as Saffron pushing me around the Yard, but he didn't go full creep and grab my ass either. Saffron told me later on no uncertain terms that he'd earned points with her for resisting the allure of my, and I quote, 'extremely clutchable ass'.

Of course, ten minutes after we switched, he 'got a huge charley horse in his thigh' and I had to carry him down to the Infirmary. Dropped him onto a bed and walked out, didn't even check to see if DeLeon saw him or not. Got to Lead duBois for half an hour, which just felt weird, then do isometrics with him for an hour, which got exhausting. Working with Saffron we'd look out for one another, and take little 'stretching breaks'; more important than you might think. With him, not only did he push me the whole hour, I had to lift that dense bastard over my head, at least once with one hand.

Guess which one he picked? Fucker.

Dinner was some kind of desiccated salt pork, ostensibly rehydrated, but I think they did that with vinegar or brine or some shit, because blech. Lots of bread and spread, though, so that was nice.

After dinner had plenty of bed and spread, which was also nice. Apparently I'd earned a lot of Saffron points for being a Good Dancer, especially for being the bigger person and letting Lancaster lead. Even enough for her to remind me of the previous night's request while we played around. Turns out it's not either of our favorite thing. I mean, if it's the only thing she's offering I'm not going to be stupid enough to turn it down. I want my spicy eggs, but if bread's the only thing on the table, I'm getting me some bread. But it definitely rates fifth on the list of 'orifices I want Saffron penetrating'.

What? I told you, I've got sensitive ears, and when she's not using something moist, it's a straight up hot button.

Also, when you're a kid living alone you get some really bad gross habits, and when you get at least three 'sinuses completely blocked with dried up snot' colds per year while living alone, you get really good at scooping the whole damn thing out at once. It feels a little like a sneeze drawn out over several excruciating seconds, but without the whole breath explosion. Y'know, the fact that I mark 'drawn out excruciating' as a positive and have done since forever probably should have clued me in to certain tendencies. Why are you looking at me like that? It's not like I eat it.

Okay, not after the first time. Rules or not, never tried that a second time, let alone a third. Yech.