Dear Diary,

Some days lately I think I'm losing my fuckin' mind. Up is down, left is right, I'm the trusted, responsible one and the fuckin' Lancasters are following my lead.

Insanity, I tell you. No goddamn sense at all the world is making.

My dreams seem saner than that shit, and they now star titillating tadpoles and chibi Saffron delivering treats on the daily. Obviously she's not there at night, because she's been pretty good about sleeping in our bed every night lately. Something about now being one of many High Clergypersons in the New Amsterdam and Newark area, rather than one of two, and the only one with unlimited Curing Mana incoming from her Goddess. Not gonna give Lancaster too much crap, because he's been doing most of the actual paperwork and administrative shit for the Army and Quarantine up there, and he has at least taken more than his share of Curing rotations, what with being a High Priest and shit.

At any rate, I woke up to Saffron spooned up in front of me, Isnomi spooned in front of her, and Marie spooned behind me, her tail wrapping over and around so the menace could cling to it along with Mister Kraken. For like a week she'd left him abandoned on her bed. Not, like, thrown away or anything, but not toted around to wherever she slept. Apparently she's now secure enough in her Big Girlhood to be seen snuggling her stuffed animal while she sleeps. Fuck it, I'm calling that my Momming Win for the week, because I sure as shit haven't had one prior to this that I can remember. Hell, Saffron's got her Momming me half the time, including any time Marie isn't available for it.

I lay there gently running my fingers through Saffron's hair, occasionally laying it across Isnomi. As far as I knew, she hadn't cut it since I'd met her, and it was getting kinda long. Not a complaint in any way, mind you. Saffron hair good, more Saffron hair better. Okay, except when I swallowed it, because while her hair is thick and curly and dark as every carnal sin I want to commit with her, it's also kinda coarse, and it's tough as hell. If I swallow a bit that's been shed it's like swallowing a heavy duty plastic spring or some shit. If it hasn't been shed? Same deal, except it doesn't break, so I'm stuck trying not to gag as I pull it out and hope she doesn't notice.

Wild thing? It's gotten pretty long now. Long enough the ends ought to be at least getting an introduction to the beginnings of my oubliette of a digestive tract, but there's never a whiff of any kind of digestion when they're pulled out. Not complaining, mind you, because that smell on top of gagging would be weird and unpleasant. Of course, the fact that it comes out smelling of ginger snaps makes no goddamned sense at all. None that I can see, though, and it's my damn stomach. I don't even like ginger snaps. It's like somebody was once told about cookies, and set out to make them, but had no idea other than a vague description about 'crunchy spice circles'. I want my spice circles greasy or fluffy, not crunchy.

Eventually she shifted just a little, ever so working her shoulders against me. "Hey, Kitten. Good morning."

"Good morning, love." She twisted her head around just enough for me to lean over and kiss her, slowly and gently. I'm forever boggled by how nice slow and gentle is. Back in Camden it was all, 'faster, faster, imitate a high powered vibrator, crank the Sybian up as high as it will go! Higher Deeper Faster Stronger!' I wasn't even gonna try and claim that Saffron and I don't get, uh, extremely enthusiastic on occasion. She loved the fact that I'm nigh indestructible, our lover is straight up queen of the Murder Death Kult, and the day I made Lancaster piss himself she straight up demanded I leave her in a 'post-Chris-Brown-Rihanna' state. When we went hard, we went psycho hard. But... and I still found myself shocked by this each time it happened, more often than not, especially since Yule, we'd gone softer, gentler, slower. Taking the time to really feel each feather light touch, each contact of skin on skin.

Stolen story; please report.

So we took our goddamned time with that kiss. By the time we'd finished, a wall of white fur stretched over me, and Marie took her own sweet damn time doing what I'd just done while I watched, fascinated. When they finally came up for air, I'm pretty sure Saffron must have had little swirly-spirals for pupils from lack of oxygen. I can't be certain, though, because the moment Marie pulled away I looked up at her and quietly breathed, "my turn?"

She grinned mischievously, then drawled her "Yes," out to three savored syllables before committing an excruciatingly slow, drawn out act of oral molestation on my poor lips and mouth. Like I said, I'm not sure about Saffron, but my vision sparkled by the time Marie finally pulled away fully. Laying back behind me, Marie lay an arm across both of us, her hand tenting over Isnomi in a sideways version of her five-point-menace-harness, then vibrated the whole bed with a purr I couldn't hear, but couldn't fail to feel.

Tabitha, dear?

Yes, Saffron darling?

Can you see to it that Isnomi has a sleepover with Grandma tonight?

We do still need to have our mutual wicked way with poor Marie, don't we?

"I do so love it when you know what I want without my having to specify. Even if it does imperil your reputation as the Goofiest of Goofs."

"Pfft. I've got untapped reservoirs of stupid to unleash on the world if that ever happens. Trust me. I've spent my whole life preparing for this. Reddit trained me well, and fourchan honed my idiocy into an unrivaled weapon of mass sanity destruction. Fear my leet trolling skillz."

A giggle escaped our little one before she squeaked out, "Momma silly."

Saffron tickled her just enough to get her to roll over and face us, then kissed her on the forehead. "Yes, she is, isn't she."

"Complaints?"

"Not a damn one."

"No."

"All silly." The menace shook her head sorrowfully at us, failing to realize the peril of her tactical situation. Three pairs of hands attacked in an unstoppable tide of tickles, and she giggled and squealed and squirmed. Not once did she say 'stop', though.

In fact, when I heard her hiccup I froze and asked, "Too much?" she shook her head back and forth as fast as she could, giggling all the harder when we went back to triple tickling. Eventually she stopped hiccupping and let out a massive belch and fart combo. All three of us froze, trying not to laugh so hard we pissed ourselves.

Okay, I was trying not to do that, and I figured the others were too when the little one curled up, looking fake-embarrassed, and squeaked out, "cuze me," because all three of us completely lost it at that point.

Y'know? If I told six-months-ago-me that I'd be lying here today, with Marie's claws convulsively snicker snacking as even she lost her shit laughing at our precocious tyke? I'd have told me I was full of shit, deranged, or both.

Weird how things change. Never how, when, why, or how fast you think they will. But I've hit the point where change? No longer terrifies me. Because sometimes? Things change for the better.