Dear Diary,

"If you find joy in someone, Tell them that to share your joy, But do not obligate them." - Tabitha Diaz, Doctrine of Tabitha, Book of Ecstasy

In this Verse of the Book of Ecstasy, Tabitha endeavors to explain ways in which even the greatest of joys, the joy we find in others, can be corrupted. She also offers us advice on how to avoid that corruption, to feel our joy without harming others or losing ourselves to it. First, should the mere existence of another person bring us joy, we ought tell them that. Share our joy in them with them, that they might know that they have given us the most precious gift one person can give another, the gift of joy. In doing so, we return that gift, the gift of validated worth. While seeking such validation is dangerous, receiving it unbidden can bring joy and lend strength to even the meekest of us. But when we do so, we must not do so with any sense of possession, or expectation of reciprocity. We are, in fact, reciprocating for the joy they bring us when we share that joy with them. They may in fact return that joy, and that can be the greatest Ecstasy of all, when two Souls find solace in one another in whatever fashion. But to expect such is to invite corruption of joy, to cheapen the joy we have felt. Instead, simply experience the joy to the fullest, share that joy with those who gifted it to you, and let fate take its course, knowing that you have received joy and done your part to spread it to the world. - Priestess Most High Above All Others, Archmage Imperator Saffron Aetos-Diaz, Commentary on the Doctrine of Tabitha

Huh. I think that's mostly what I meant when I wrote that verse, although I'm pretty sure we have entirely different contexts for it. I know I was thinking a lot about parasocial relationships and people talking about being 'friendzoned' and all kinds of other asymmetrical relationship dynamics. But I guess in some fashion that's just the latest wrinkle in the whole 'unrequited love' thing that's been going on since we chose to abandon the path of the bonobo.

Pretty much since we chose to be choosy about our intimacy, which by the way I'm not dissing anyone who is, there have been situations where one person likes another, and the feeling isn't mutual. Or feelings, I guess, since it's rarely just one thing. Yeah, I guess there are times when the person's face, or body, or hair, or some other feature more pertinent to getting it on lubes up the love tunnel, but the rest of the person is an absolute nothingburger with extra nothing, hold the burger, it might just be 'feeling'. Or maybe if somebody's as Ace as Conrad, and all they feel is some kind of aesthetic appreciation for the shape of a nose, the curve of an ass, or some other singular feature, that could just be 'feeling' as well.

But mostly there's a reason we call it 'catching feels' rather than 'catching feel'. When somebody really brings you joy, when them coming into the room puts butterflies in your stomach, a smile on your face, and a bit of lubrication in your nethers, that's way more than one feel. Even more, it's pretty common for two or more feels to intermingle and produce yet another second tier feel. Humans and Human Adjacent people generally live inside our heads, and we can build up whole tons of expectations around those feels, and that's where shit frequently goes sideways.

When the boy you like wants a skinny chick, or a blonde, or someone distinctly less potato of nose and body, but you would literally be frozen with indecision given a choice of a life of intimate connection with them or Keanu but not both, that's definitely asymmetric. Yeah, guys being guys and society being society, I'm sure I could get his wick dipped in my lady bits, but that's... That's really not the consummation of those feels in anything like a satisfactory manner. When one partner is planning out baby names and retirement homes while the other is texting their long term mid thrust, that is not healthy.

So I kind of get it when some dude fixates on a woman as the perfect partner, and she's just not into him, it hurts. But it only hurts worse if you've become emotionally attached to Carlos Jr., Amalie, and even little DeJuan, adorable accident that he was, before you even get up the nerve to say 'hello', let alone ask them out. So I guess I'm glad that Saffron explained all that about expectations and shit, because if you go in with zero expectations, zero sense of entitlement, and just tell somebody 'hey, I really like you, and you just being around makes me happy', the worst that's gonna happen is that you find out they're an absolute bitch and mock you for being open and honest. Which, let me be clear, is on them.

Of course, when I wrote that I was thinking about celebrities. About parasocial relationships, which take that whole 'finding joy in another person who may or may not do the same' and crank it up to eleven. 'I don't feel the same way' has nothing on 'I didn't even know you existed ten seconds ago'. 'I think she's pretty and treats people nicely' can get somebody all revved up, but 'I have detailed information on every facet of their life, up to and including past partners, preferred positions, and potential paternity chances' can wind up with somebody thinking they actually have a relationship with the celebrity. To be honest, some of the 'famous for being famous' celebrities back in the day even fostered that shit.

Everybody's well aware of my position on sex work and sex workers, but to reiterate, so long as everybody is a consenting adult and there's no fraud going on, work is work. Just because it's service sector work sexually satisfying otherwise single persons doesn't make it not work. I'm also aware of the girlfriend experience, where for a little extra pay and prep time, said sex worker will put on a whole show, make it feel like a real relationship for the contracted length of time. At the end of the day, as long as everybody involved knows it's a production, an act, it's no different than hiring the skinny hipped, flat chested twenty something to pretend it's her very first time, and that her employer of the night has ruined her for all other men ever, because said employer is just so virile and skilled at lady pleasing.

So yeah, I'm not against the idea of, I dunno what to call it, parasexual relationships, where the celebrity talks all sexy to their chat, knowing that some proportion of them will think, for some amount of time, that it's real. What I am against is either side expecting something inappropriate from the other. The fan needs to keep in mind that it's definitely not a monogamous relationship, and that it's also not a two way personal one, and the sex worker... I guess they do too? Like, asking for payment is part of the job, but asking the client not to hire anybody else is just, I think, a step too far.

Shit. Fuck. Damn. Did I just explain why I'm okay with my Worshippers throwing Worship at other Deities? I think I might have. Also, I think that whole parasocial relationship describes the Worshipper to Deity relationship here and now. Like, if I somehow could talk to all of my Worshippers at once, they might not get the reference, but I could totally call them 'chat', and not feel weird about it. Okay, other than me actually being popular. That shit just does not compute in any way.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, intellectually I get it, but... The heart does not always obey the mind. Ooh, listen to me, I sound like a fortune cookie and shit. I keep this up and people will think I'm... fuck. Yeah, like I said, intellect is one thing, emotion and habit are another.

So yesterday I might have been a little more touchy feely than normal with my long tall lady as she held court in the Overlord's Keep. So weird how much I enjoyed simple things like actual massage back in the day, how much I've enjoyed them when I can get them here and now, but I totally underestimate the impact on my ladies when I apply that same tactile sensation to their extremities. I spent a lot of yesterday doing just that for Tallulah, for Saffron, for Siobhan. Would have done it for Marie, but she kept thwapping me with her tail whenever I tried, and handing me one or more kittens to feed. Preference noted and indulged.

At the end of the day, after dismissing her court, Tallulah put one index finger atop my head, then put the other under Marie's chin and lifted until Marie's face hovered less than an inch from hers. I caught the edges of imagery from the previous night before Tallulah murmured, "lovely Maenad indeed." Then, after brushing her lips across Marie's, she, I dunno, collapsed that Marie back into the rest of the Marie Collective with a brush of her fingers.

Then she moved her finger off my head and said, "you wanted to talk?"

The sounds of her court still filtering out of her audience room reached me, and I hesitated. "Can we maybe talk somewhere more private?"

A moment later she sat on the end of the Bed, with me splayed on the floor in pretty much the same pose I'd been in. "Here, perhaps?"

Those two words were loaded with, I dunno, intent to dispense with clothing. Which, to be clear, I kinda wanted right then, what with me having a thing for women who straight up took charge, told me what they wanted, and let me get on with the heavy lifting. But as always lately, I'm tryna do better. Be better. Be the woman I'd want to see my ladies with. "Uh... I don't think I've ever seen your room?"

She tilted her head. "I..." Emotions flashed across her face. Hurt. Shame. Pride. Confusion.

Before it could melt into 'WTF Diaz', I whispered, "show me? Please? Where you slept before?"

A moment later, without leaving those same positions, I knelt on a cold marble floor. Polished, hard, utterly unworn. Tallulah sat on... a bunk. The indestructible beds at the Phileo Academy had more personality. By the way the thin mattress conformed to her ass, it might have been marginally softer than the Academy mattresses, but not very much so. I glanced around to see a nearly empty room. A mannequin, one of those simple 'body and head' ones that tailors used. The hint of a door at one end of the wall opposite the bed. Hard, cold white walls of the same marble as the floor.

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I looked back up at her, where she'd... frozen. Only the warmth kept pouring out of her. Not warming the room, but leaking out to leave her cold. Hard. "Is this... do you want this?"

Her voice as hard as her eyes, she asked, "does it matter?"

"Yes!" It took me a second after she flinched. "Yes, Tallulah. It matters. That's... Shit, that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

She frowned, but even that was less hard than her previous icy glare. "About... What I want?"

I bobblehead nodded. "Yes! Yes, that's exactly it. I... I don't think I ever really talked to you about it. Asked you about it. I made a bunch of fuckin' assumptions, and we kinda talked about how at some point in the future, you want my kid growing in here," I laid my fingertips on her belly, and she... she didn't flinch, but she did shudder.

Before I could even try to figure out what kind of a shudder it was, she whispered, "why would you banish me here?"

"The fuck?" She blinked at something in my voice. "Banish? Seriously, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"My room. You called this my room."

"Yeah... And?"

"My place, where you have decided I belong."

The clue landed square in my brain. I took a deep breath and blew it out, taking both of her hands in mine, scooching over until I knelt in front of her, looking up into those pearlescent eyes. Opening myself to that secret space inside her, then grabbing something inside her and forcing that secret space to stop disappearing. Stop negating itself. "Tallulah?"

"Yes, Goddess?"

"I meant 'your room' as in the room that is yours, that I enter only by your invitation. Not some kind of place I think you belong."

She froze, no longer struggling against me. "So where do I belong?"

I smiled up at her. "Wherever you want to be. If I and my ladies are very lucky? With us. In our room. As in the room that you, me, and all of them share with each other and all of our kids."

Something in her cracked. "You... You scared me. Hurt me."

"I'm sorry. It wasn't intentional. I'll try very hard not to do so in the future."

She sighed. "But you will."

I kinda drooped. "Yeah. Yeah, I kinda suck that way." Before she could say anything else, I shook my head and stood up. "No, you deserve better than that. I'm sorry. Both for any hurt I've caused you, and any hurt I inadvertently cause you in the future." I reached one hand out to her.

She took it, standing smoothly, which put her in touching distance of me, looking down into my eyes as I looked up at her. "What if I do not know what I want?"

"Then we'll figure that out together. And we'll all do our best to see that when you figure it out, you get whatever it is you want. Whatever you need."

One strawberry blonde eyebrow rose. "Which, then? What I want, or what I need?"

"Both."

The ghost of a smile curved her lips. "So sure. So swift. So certain."

I nodded. "Yeah. I fuck up all the time, which isn't an excuse or a pout or some other bullshit, just an observation of fact. But I know what I'm trying for. What my goal is. And that goal is for every one of my loved ones to have whatever they want and need."

The smile froze. "But what of me?"

I cocked my head, looking up at her, wondering if she was serious. After a moment of silence from both of us, I realized that she was, but would never admit it. I had trauma. Plenty of it, both from back in the day and from an eternity alone in a box. But the woman in front of me had millennia of hypervigilance, most of it directed at the woman who founded her line, the woman who should have been mentor and protector.

One tentacle slipped up between us, gently touching the tip of her nose. "Do. Not. Move."

I Co-Located to the only tentacle that wore bling. Grabbed The Morrigan by her legs and yanked downward, pulling and stretching until a wheezing scream leaked out of her. Then I moved around so she could see me and punched her right in her broad, distorted nose. Hard. It crunched and leaked red. "That's for being the worst grandmother ever. Bitch."

I collapsed back to myself. "Sorry. Needed to get that out of my system."

"What?" I showed her. She frowned, but nodded. "You still wax wroth with her over what she did to my... Our... Daughter."

I huffed out a breath, realizing right then that I wasn't the only one with trauma that left me with self image issues. I cupped those razor cheeks in my palms, drew her down until I felt her cool breath on my lips. "That was for you, beloved idiot."

So many emotions rushed across her face. Surprise expanded into shock. Offense ignited into indignation. Relief melted into release. "Idiot?"

"I think I finally get why Saffron first called me Goof." Sudden guilt nipped at me, and I sent a wordless mélange of emotions to my Kitten.

Who replied with a simple, amused, so my Goof. Along with all the hungry anticipation in the world.

Heat made my own voice fuzzy in my ears as I forced myself to ask the questions I'd intended. "Yeah, uh, meant to ask if you wanted, uh..." That space in her head wasn't empty any longer. Half formed desires, pent up and frozen for fucking millennia tripped over each other as they rushed in to fill a space never intended to hold that much. "Concubine? Maybe Wife eventually? Ring? Collar? Uh, something else?"

"You... you offer me formalities?"

I managed to force out, "thought you'd want them. Need them. Something like that."

"So thoughtful."

I gulped. Held myself absolutely still as I realized she was doing nothing of the sort. She fuckin' vibrated with... something. "Yeah. That's me. Just thinkin' all the time. Don't ask about what. Unless you really want to know."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Smooth. Slick."

She smiled down at me, an open mouthed thing that looked very out of place on her. "Very, at the moment."

"So. Uh. You wanna... I mean what do you want?"

She shook her head. "No, you meant 'do I want to', by implication asking if I wanted to have sex with you."

I snorted out a laugh. "Yeah. Kinda did. But still wanna know about that whole Titles and Gifts thing."

"I have no need of such. I have stood on my own for centuries, and need not the protection of Titles from association with another."

I really didn't want to find out how hard that mattress was. I really wanted to find out how much padding she added. "Okay. Not need. More important thing, though."

"And what is that?"

I smirked at her, ran one tentacle and a hand down opposite sides of her, feather light, while holding her in place with others. "Like I just asked. What do you want... Idiot."

Oh holy shit did she flare up when I said that. Eyes literally flashing. "You will give me what I want."

"So long as it hurts no one, yes."

"If what I want will hurt someone?"

I pursed my lips. "We'll talk. But..." She slow blinked at me. "Morrigan's nose is still bleeding."

"Do you want me?"

"Yeah. Yeah, kinda. Yeah."

"Here?"

Somehow, some way, I knew the right answer. "Is that what you want?"

She shook her head, and we stood at the end of the Bed, my hand and tentacle the only things keeping her from toppling backward onto the bed. She blinked, and Holy Garb replaced her court outfit. First Glowing Midnight. Then the Shobitch Wedding Dress. Then the lingerie of first one, then the other. She watched my eyes, and finally settled on Glowing Midnight's underthings. "Why these?"

"Contrast. Why here?"

She smiled. "My children were all conceived in that place. So cold. So hard. So... calculated." She went silent, but I waited. "If Wife, then a ring. If Concubine, then a collar. Yes?"

"Uh..." I thought about Marie's neck, the collar of black fur circling it, so similar to the choker around Siobhan's. "The latter doesn't preclude the former."

She suddenly... shrank. Slumped. Not enough to fall. But enough. "I... lost many trying for Cailyn."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Fertility Blessings work well on me. I lay with the sires of my other three once each." I waited, wondering why she brought that up, until she said, "I needed no more than that from them. Just their seed, not their continued presence."

"What do you want from me?"

"I... Need... Your continued presence." She shook her head. "Not for safety. Not for strength."

I didn't need to ask, but she needed me to. "Do you need to say why?" She nodded. "Then tell me why."

"I need your warmth. Your... Love."

I felt my ladies echoing me as I said, "you have it." I gave her a moment as she started to melt. "Now. Tell me what you want."

Her lips melted into a gremlin Grin. "If I am pregnant from this night a month hence, a ring. If not, a collar."

I chuckled, shifting to boy mode. "Fuzzy?"

"Please."

I dropped my Blend. "With The Dress on or off?"

"So lewd."

I pulled her hands behind her back, gently lowered her onto the bed. "On it is, then."

Attack dog?

I stiffened up at the sudden imperious tone in my Kitten's mental voice. Yeah, Imperator Sexypaws?

Do not forget High Priestess Above All Others. Nor, most importantly in this case, Mrs. Aetos-Diaz.

I really did not want to think too closely about how the potential for forbidden fruit was putting all the lead in the pencil right now. Yeah?

Yes. I speak now as all three, on behalf of the conclave of your intimate companions. Obey me, Attack dog.

By the way she'd started surreptitiously squirming toward me, while trying to look as tense as I felt, Tallulah could hear every word. Woof.

Laughter, warm, gooey laughter from all my ladies filled my brain as Saffron, echoed by all the others, thought, you, Attack Dog of the Alliance, are to continue firing for effect until the target, and more importantly every doubt she has about your and our feelings for her, is thoroughly subdued.

Tallulah looked up at me, eyes flashing. "I will not submit easily."

"Oh. Good."

"Do your worst, scoundrel!"

"You asked for it, Idiot." Before she could reply, I slipped a tentacle into her mouth as I felt her around me, so smooth, so slick, like living marble. "Woof. Woof. Woof."

Time flowed oddly in the Bedroom. I'd swear we spent hours, maybe days, but when she finally passed out, utterly spent, drooling and satiated, and I snuggled up next to her to catch a nap before I had to get up for work, the ladies were all there in the Maw, circled around Tallulah like my Worshippers around the Altar, as a replay of our antics filled the big screen. Okay, nobody dunked me repeatedly when I was on the Altar, but every time Tallulah blushed or looked down or in any other way seemed about to deny what surrounded her from all sides, down she went.

Wasn't even me doing it. Well, not all by myself.

Only fly in the ointment was that voice, calling from the east. Somehow, despite Mimic brainlessness and everything, I Co-Located one of me to the top of the West Tower and called back. "I'm here! Who are you?"

Still don't know who it was. Simple fuckin' question. To which I received no reply except ongoing plaintive, then demanding, then annoyed repetitive calling of my name.

Fuck. Hadn't had this much problem communicating with someone since I tried to do so with the Hypermelanistic Orange Tabby of Unusual Size.

Maybe the universe made two of them.

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