Day One Thousand One Hundred And Sixty-Four

Dear Diary,

Kinda funny the way things cycle.

Back when I first got here, I really knew next to nothing about fighting. I mean, I knew what every street kid knows, the shit about jumping in when your friend is fighting, hitting people when they're down being an asshole move, but also a great way to keep them from getting back up and knocking you down in turn, and if you can't win and you can't run, cover your head and curl around your guts, because your arms and legs aren't generally required for continued respiration.

Yeah, I stole those first few points of Close Quarters Combat from Marshall duBois, but even before that the shit he'd been showing me just, I dunno, felt right. Like putting on a tailored uniform, sliding into bespoke boots, or filling orifices a fanatic partner had Shapeshifted to fit in ways those prior two could never. Or vice versa, since my Kitten is usually the one doing shit like that. Shapeshifting during sex, that is. I mean, I do it, yeah, whenever it seems like it'll be fun for one or both of us, but mostly I'm...

Heh. Snickering and snorting too hard to think. I'm the tentacle monster. Given that odds are I'm also the one who's gonna wind up carrying the packages home if we go shopping, specifically because of infinite tentacleworks, I'm forcibly reminded of that old comic strip about the magical girl and the tentacle beast who winds up the overwhelmed boyfriend.

I mean, I'm obviously the overwhelmed girlfriend, because girl, but I guess I could hum that tune too if somebody like Lily desperately needed it.

Or maybe to put another batch of kittens in Murder Mittens.

Yeah, I remember how long it took me to set up that first time, and I'm not feeling the inexplicable yet undeniable urge to create rugrats that drove me on our wedding night. Not at the moment, anyhow. But I can definitely understand why some folks wound up with a gajillion kids. She wants to have more, and when I think about it I feel a deep and abiding desire to give her what she wants. Not a need yet, not for either of us, but... Someday.

I'm kinda torn about Siobhan. On the one hand, i absolutely do not want to put her through another year of agony. If I could somehow ensure that she'd have like, one day of morning sickness and pop the kid out after three months like Marie did, I'd be tempted to whine at her. But that's just it. Tempted, and only if I could guarantee that she wouldn't wind up in the same awful situation she suffered through before. Because sometimes I'm tempted to do things I know are wrong. I dunno if that makes me a bad person or not. But I know I feel better about myself because I absolutely will not ask, suggest, or otherwise influence her to acquiesce to accepting my offspring request in her baby bakery. Shit, if she comes to me and actively asks me to do that I'm gonna maybe be really hesitant.

Of course, it has not passed my notice that I do in fact have a baby bakery of my very own, and my Kitten has been researching how to put a bun in my Primordial oven. If that works, there is in fact another way that Darling and I could team up to produce a baby sister for Aoibh. And I am now holding myself very still because not only has Saffron claimed dibs on my muffin oven, I think Siobhan might take it the wrong way if she suddenly found herself naked in boy mode with me screaming 'fill me like a donut' and similarly wacky yet pointed shit.

Yeah, apparently the whole baby madness is made worse by the thought of mix and match into combinations we have not yet tried. Which is another reason I'm not riding boy mode Siobhan as we speak, because the thought of having Saffron's baby inside me is causing all orifices capable of self-lubrication to do so.

Is that what that was?

Kitten?

I was napping. Your Maw flooded.

Sorry.

I quote the wise words of my Goddess: 'it's okay to drool if you're hot enough'.

A moment later, as I giggled, she thought, come to bed, love.

I dreamt of my ladies cackling as they surfed in the endless waves of my flooding Maw and my tentacles had my way with them. Yeah, apparently I want to breed and be bred with every ounce of my being, including all the trillions of  trillions of ounces of tentacles out in M-Space. I am ninety nine percent sure Souls cannot get pregnant, and my tentacles aren't really 'boy mode' tentacles most of the time anyhow, but holy shit I tried.

Woke in the morning and headed out to my daily duties. Definitely in some kind of mood, wound up necking with Marie at Tallulah's feet and on top of Treachery Rock. A couple petitioners looked offended, but most just ignored our delinquent asses, and plenty looked amused. I think at least one might have left Court with a less beneficent verdict just to get more time staring at the two of us. Which, to be clear, is a perfectly acceptable price for PDA. You bring the heat to the public, you gotta accept that you're gonna lodge yourself in random spank banks. So long as they keep things subtle, polite, or at least friendly, I can't really see where anybody's having their Agency violated.

Swept Siobhan off to the Bedroom at lunch. Kinda amused that she grumped about missing food, so I risked getting the sheets dirty and brought her lunch, too. Weird that our date left her with a fear kink, but not a food kink. Not complaining, just pondering.

No news from the Captains Three, but Orla stopped by the Camden Yards Heroic Academy and let me know that the Sneaking had been as good as her name and snuck through the Channel to the North Sea, and Tallulah had managed to slip the Training and Conquering through portals to join her, which meant we now functionally had the Faerie Queen's Pirates penned in. I mean, unless they could sneak past us, which was theoretically possible.

At least nobody's got submarines.

But along with bodyguarding and romping and duo queueing dinner with Marie, I also wound up teaching close quarters combat to the Camden Yards kids. Not just the 'never fight fair' bits that they already knew like breathing, but the shit about how to go in when the odds were against you and still have a chance to come out of it with your most important bits attached and, more importantly, your opponent no longer retaining the capacity to hurt others.

So weird having to teach restraint. Because where the better Phileo rich kids understood the idea of not bringing your full strength to bear against somebody who at worst did something like overestimating their ability to remain sober, the Camden Yards kids.

But things come full circle, I guess. Even me calling a bunch of Cadets, some of whom are probably physically older than me, 'kids'.

Like I said, funny how things cycle.