Dear Diary,

Weird thing: I'm definitely coming to understand what sane people mean by 'everything's connected', not the whole tinfoil hat everything is a big conspiracy, but everything that happens sends out ripples, heck, 'is' is a kind of 'happening', so everything that is kinda sends out ripples too, affecting the things around them, and those affects affect the things around them, and so on; I'm still not convinced you can extrapolate the universe from a piece of cake, but the whole 'chaos butterfly' does seem more and more possible the more I learn about shit.

Which is a really convoluted way to say that I'm learning shit in duBois' class, but I can't help it. The man engages my whole brain, not just the 'build a neat Lego machine' part, but the 'make a functional shit-wrecking Lego machine' part too. Yet somehow 'engaging Tabitha's brain' is natural and healthy, but I'm anathema and abomination. Man needs to make up his mind, or he's gonna wind up getting his gold watch shoved up his damn ass. Then again, maybe he's into that, fuck if I know.

So we all woke up slowly, quietly, and oddly in sync. Before I even opened my eyes I heard Saffron sniffing and Marie stretching. It took me like half a dozen seconds, until Saffron chose to taste test my tonsils before opening her eyes, for me to twig to the missing part of the picture.

Boss?

Yes, Tabitha?

Where's Isnomi?

Currently curled up upon my wife's bosom, sleeping, as is my wife herself. Peacefully, for the first time in recent memory. I hope us letting her stay the night wasn't too presumptuous?

Oh, no. She stayed overnight with Grampa and Grandma. The horror. Just try to give me a heads up next time?

By the time I realized Sigyn had fallen asleep, you had as well.

Eh. Fair point. Thanks Boss, you're the best.

I know.

Saffron relaxed, and seeing the two of us lose all of our tension, Marie nodded and snuggled in with us. At seven foot tall without really stretching anywhere near as much as she could, Marie's capable of impressive feats of snuggling. I'm pretty sure that 'nose shaped to poke breathing passages in tits while suckling' feature is the only reason Saffron didn't worry about suffocating.

No, I simply trust you both with my life and death, should it come to that.

"You know that's a little bit intimidating, right? Like you say shit like that and all my sphincters clench, because I know there are things you want to do that will piss off people who will not hesitate to kill you." Nuzzling the top of her head while I said that might have sent a mixed message, but, and listen carefully, because this part is important, fuck off, she smells nice.

I trust that if I die doing something worthwhile, you'll see it finished, and bring me home, whether that's here or the place you choose for my Soul's eternal rest. What with trusting you to correct any unfortunate canoodling fatalities, I really ought to trust you with more important things than that, right?

"Well, yeah, that would make sense if I were a mature, adult kind of deity, but what if I decide your eternal resting place will be face down in my lady bits or something equally stupid and on brand for me?"

When fear tries to sway me from my righteous course, I turn to the wise words of My Goddess, who said, 'don't threaten me with a good time, bitch'.

I laughed into her hair, and found myself running my free hand down Marie's spine, scratching gently. I nuzzled the top of Saffron's head a little when Marie did the same to mine, and said, "I'm not sure how I feel about you getting into calling me 'bitch' when you want me to take charge."

If my Goddess wishes me to stop, she has but to tell me so.

"If I meant I wanted you to stop, I'd say stop. I mean, you don't really think I'm a bitch, right?" I low key hated the way saying that made me whine, but somehow her answer was important to me.

Of course you are, but only when you're required to be. Or when your most faithful worshipper requests and requires, begs and berates you to be.

"Wait, what? The fuck?"

There are a million ways to describe a woman who dominates the space around her. That one is beloved of those who hate women who do so, and I defy them by wearing that label proudly should it be applied. And how else would you describe someone who is pleasantly fluffy, rams her nose in your crotch to say hello, and bites people who desperately deserve it?

I chuckled into her hair even as Marie started running her tongue across the top of my head. I'm pretty sure she wasn't trying to be a new flavor of kinky, because she's never been subtle about that, but I wasn't sure if I liked it. On second thought, I was sure I liked it, but wasn't sure what her doing it said about our relationship.

Mayhap that she likes the taste of you? Or that she liked your reaction to her doing so on other places you're notably hairy?

"Kitten!" I snorted into her hair, trying to figure out why I felt so scandalized. Probably how blatant she was being. Then again, if I can't talk even semi seriously about it when it's appropriate, I oughtn't be doing it, and we all know that shit's never going to happen, so time to put on my big girl panties.

Oh, no, breakfast isn't for at least another half hour, and in an emergency we can be dressed and down there in under ten seconds.

"Fair point, thanks for the time check. Her tongue wash can be just the tiniest bit excruciating when she gets going."

If I recall your exact words were, 'motherfucking cuntscraping fuckballs', followed by grabbing her by the ears and yanking when she paused to make sure you were okay, screaming, 'no fucklickstop, my fuckmurderbitchqueen'.

"I didn't say I wanted her to stop."

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

You didn't stop yanking her ears until she bit you.

"Look, I have very strong opinions about some intimate activities, and as noted watched way too much Sasha Gray at an impressionable age." I paused. taking a calming breath and putting my metaphoric Adult Panties on. "Do either of you think it's unhealthy? Or feel some kind of bad way about it? Or want me to stop?"

No, I do not believe it is, and if I wanted you to stop I would tell you so.

"You'll tell me if it hurts you. Even if you do enjoy it, because that's definitely something we'd need to talk through to make sure none of us are, y'know, using my patented 'Unhealthy Coping Mechanism Binge' technique. Understood?"

Marie stopped licking my hair just long enough to say, "Yes."

Meanwhile my Kitten thought, That's more than fair, but I recommend we do so on a Monday, in public, or using some venue likely to preclude hijinks.

"Why? Oh, and is there a reason your otherwise unoccupied mouth isn't speaking at the moment?"

Because our discussions of amorous activities have a tendency to become demonstrations. And while I could say I enjoy the intimacy of praying to my Goddess? I would probably be remiss not to note that it is in fact my 'pointy nose' 'poking a breathing channel' into your left tit allowing me to breathe at the moment.

That got me. I started laughing, not stopping until I wound up with a mouthful of Saffron's hair, at which point I started licking her hair as Marie did the same to me.

That's just weird.

Is that a complaint, Kitten?

No. Just an observation. Carry on as long as you feel the urge. I'm still deciding if I like it or not.

We might have wound up a little late to breakfast, which for Saffron and I just got expected yet surprisingly inaccurate commentary by the ROTC table about why we were late. It just turns out Saffron and I both find the whole 'somebody licking our hair clean-ish' really comforting while not feeling comforting. Or we wind up feeling comforted without there ever being any actual 'aw, that's totes adorbs' moments. Shit, maybe it's some kind of weird Bag Hair Shiatsu Massage or something. But we liked it. I actually liked doing it almost as much as having it done.

Right up until the hairballs. Still trying to figure out if those are a deal breaker or not. I mean, Saffron and I are, Marie was previously aware and fully on board despite them.

Marie being late for breakfast got a result that I'm not sure most of the Cadets noticed. The rest of the Maids all gave her looks that I wouldn't have noticed had I not spent the last six months learning the apparently common non-verbal language of Maenads. She replied with a look that translated itself to, "Say. My. Name.", followed, when they all acknowledged her as, y'know, Head Maid or whatever, with, "You're. Goddamned. Right."

I think the rest of the Cadets are either going to go out and learn to farm wheat or start demanding corn based eats, because while we all nommed corn bread soaked in butter and over easy egg yolks; they all had to suck up stupidly runny oatmeal. Like, for whatever reason they didn't even bother to add any of the preserves or honey, either. My guess is that they're all culinary morons, but you didn't hear that from me, because I'm trying to be way more polite about dumbasses doing dumbass shit that smacks them and only them directly in their delicate bits immediately.

When we got to Strategy and Logistics, Marshall duBois had called in not one but three 'assistant Professors' for the day. Specifically, Heroes Potami and Velazquez, along with Lord Leonard Lancaster himself. Over the course of the morning, we did a second review of 'recent military actions'. Wherein we each did a synopsis of the campaign we were involved with in our own words, after which Marshall duBois asked, "In your opinion, what was your biggest mistake of the campaign?"

As junior commander present, I got to go first. Joy. When he got to asking about my big screw up, I said, "not asking General Lancaster about the weird 'map' on the floor at my first opportunity, of which there were many. A major strategic asset went unused for most of the campaign."

None of the other commanders present seemed set to disagree, and damn sure none of the Cadets did, so the Marshall asked, "and what would be the take away you'd share with the rest of the class regarding that?"

In a bizarre off brand moment I blame totally on yesterday's family therapy sesh, I thought about how to express my thoughts seriously, rather than as some kind of sophomoric joke. "If you see something weird that obviously took resources to put in place, ask someone in a position to know about it rather than just assuming it's just an oddity without a purpose."

General Lancaster actually nodded and slow clapped at that, but not in a really dismissive way. "Hear hear. Commander Diaz is absolutely correct on both counts in my professional opinion." Then he ruined it by snorting and saying, "to think you thought that was actually a map."

A sudden moment of enlightenment made my metaphoric cock hard enough I couldn't resist slapping him upside the face with it. "Actually, General Lancaster, I think it's a tremendously useful map, entirely aside from its secondary utility as a Scrying tool. Only those who can Scry can use it as a Scrying tool, after all, but anyone with any Strategic training can use it as a near perfect Logistical Map."

He managed to go from splutter to outraged, "are you mad, Commander? The scale of everything on it is completely mangled. The farmsteads and villages themselves are larger than the rest of the territory combined, and every road is the same length, despite no two of them being more than vaguely similar in that regard."

I swear I heard a kind of 'need new panties STAT' noise from my Kitten's direction as I turned to face him, sliding slightly sideways so the whole class could see his face. "You're missing the point entirely, General. In that terrain, distance is near meaningless. One gap will be twenty miles of flat, easy terrain, another one mile as the crow flies, but nearly six if you measure all the elevation changes along the way, and closer to eighteen if you follow the actual roads. In addition, no two population centers are anywhere near the same size. A few near the edges are three single story buildings, whereas Lancaster House itself is almost an underground City."

As his one eyebrow drew up in a 'your point?' look, I continued. "As we've studied Logistics, I've realized that exactly where a population center is doesn't matter, it's how long it takes to get there, and if you look at the scale of the roads in 'travel time' rather than 'map distance', which is pretty fuckin' irrelevant even if all you're planning is a family outing, the scale of the map is damn near perfect since those 'same length' roads all take roughly a day's travel no matter the physical distance. Meanwhile, the visuals of the population centers are enough to give a rough idea of the maximum and even possibly likely typical human population of each farmstead, village, and even Lancaster House itself. While Lancaster House is probably the least accurate in that regard, since it delves so deep into the hill? It's also the least relevant to the map, since the map itself is centrally located in Lancaster House itself, which means if you really need to know how many people are there, you can just, y'know, shout really fuckin' loud and do a head count or something."

Somewhere around 'scaling by travel time' Lenny had gotten that 'train of thought derailed, sliding sideways' look that I remember from right before his son's wedding, and I gleefully reveled in how my newfound adulting prowess let me keep piling on the metaphoric beating instead of fist pumping. By the time I finished, all he could do was blink a bit and almost plaintively say, "Please, Cadet Aetos, tell me you had some hand in that?"

My Kitten smiled a smile that I'm sure everyone else took as serene, but it was absolutely a duck in a pond. Serenity where you can see, but absolute chaos going on just out of sight. "I'm sorry, General. That was all Tabitha. Commander Diaz, that is."

That's when the Marshall changed my mind yet again about his Gold Watch, this time convincing me he'd get that fuckin' thing however he wanted to when he looked at Lancaster and said, "So, since your recent actions were obviously the largest in recent memory, please give us your summation, General Lancaster?"

I swear I had time to plan out an entire twenty four hour Gold Watch campaign of successively more intense debauchery cooperatively with Saffron before Lenny finally got his brain back in gear to start speaking.

I think I'm proudest of how I managed to delay gratification, like an adult do, when Saffron suggested we Co-Locate and find someone vaguely Marshall shaped to perform 'trial runs' on.

My Inner Delinquent is still kicking me about that, by the way.