Dear Diary,

"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own... Jealousy is a disease, love is a healthy condition. The immature mind often mistakes one for the other, or assumes that the greater the love, the greater the jealousy."

- Robert A. Heinlein

Huh. Just had a thought after reading this. If passion can become jealousy, but love isn't jealous, would dispassionate love be incapable of jealousy? I really hope that passionate love is capable of loving without jealousy, because I sure as shit can't imagine myself ever loving dispassionately. Hell, it's hard for me to do anything dispassionately. Then again, that might just be one of the many side affects of depression. Or PTSD. Or ADHD. Shit, when I list out all of the things that keep me from doing shit unless there's some kind of bug up my ass about it, it's kind of incredible that I ever get shit done at all.

Wait, I can distinguish between love and jealousy, does that mean I'm not immature? Maybe it means I'm partially mature. That some small part of me, somehow, has gotten at least a little bit mature. I mean, other than in the 'this show is for mature audiences' sense. Heh, I need a tee shirt that says something like 'you must be this tall to ride on this ride', with the line just the tiniest bit higher than Saffron in stocking feet. Would that be too subtle a hint for her to keep the boots on? Because holy shit, those boots.

Y'know, saying 'the greater the jealousy' is kinda weird, now that I think about it. No, not 'weird', exactly, just something I'd never really thought of, that jealousy is like, a spectrum and shit. Like you can be varying degrees of jealous. That really just makes sense, if you think about it though. Like, one end of the spectrum would be 'oh, you're not allowed to interact in any way with anyone but me, you live in a box and I've got the only key' and holy shit I just described pre-Bonnie Lancasters. Yeah, more evidence, jealousy bad. But maybe the other end is just, 'hey, don't shrink anybody else down until they can nom your taco while both of us are standing up', which is a really specific example now that I think about it, and probably doesn't apply to anybody else. Okay, maybe Loki. Possibly other trickster gods. I guess maybe anybody Saffron Booned with shapeshifting? Okay, Marie definitely, what with her being able to Boon herself with that shit, although itty bitty kitty Marie would be fuckin' adorable. Oh, she's definitely Booned with shapeshifting as of right now, exclusively for that use. Okay, not exclusively, but I don't give a shit what else she uses it for, as long as I can have her curl up in my lap. Which she could have done already if I got really big, I know, but then we wouldn't fit in the Love shack.

Maybe 'don't Worship other Gods' might be an acceptable line, but then I think about Saffron Worshipping Marie, and now I actually wanna see that too.

I've got a Plan, and it's coming together agonizingly slow, because I don't want dipshit McGee to figure it out until it's too late, and that's got my brain all over the place, I think.

So yesterday at sunset the Trolls reported Enemy Contact, which immediately pissed me off just a little bit, because Marie had just said some adorable shit that made me wanna shrink her down to lap cat size and skritch all her good spots until she passed out from purr overload. Then I realized that the past couple Undead had both done the 'engage at sunset' thing, which made me realize that shit just made sense, what with them and daylight not really being sympatico.

I stepped across to the spot where Furtim waved a flag atop the tallest building around. I pulled them into a side hug, then said, "Well done. What have we got?"

They waved toward a large open space, a hill not unlike the one I'd seen in the middle of the previous district. Atop it stood a massive figure in armor, with four smaller figures in robes around him. A thin ring of Fell Snipers stood around them, and the rest of the open space was a carpet of Undead, most of them in light armor with weapons. "Can the Legion take the basic Undead if we take out their leadership?" They waggled one hand, clearly unsure. "Okay then. Open a clear passage to the north, and be ready to move on my signal." They saluted and dropped down the side of the building, doing some impressive parkour shit, catching themselves on each ledge and windowsill before hitting the ground and scampering off.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Atop the mast of the Black Dragon, I whispered in Marie's ear, and she nodded. Couldn't talk too loud, what with the Master Baiter probably listening in.

Then I got a rush of not-stupid to the head. North side, bring them all in, the Legion will make a hole for you.

She smiled at me, kissed me, and stepped away. I know, Vlickies, she laughed into my head.

Meanwhile I stepped to the edge of the building, threw up a Filtration ward just a tiny bit bigger than I was, and projected my voice across the square. "Attention, Miasma victims! If you were raised against your will, or feel you've been lied to or controlled by the Liches in charge of the Undead horde, you may be entitled to compensation!"

Of course the big asshole atop the hill, who had to be at least as big as Johnson, but way more 'normal human' proportions, screamed something incomprehensible, waved a hand my way, and the Fell Snipers unloaded at me. Their arrows did about as much to my Ward as an equivalent weight of piss would damage the ocean, but the Miasma still ate away at it. I popped out an Air Shield Box above the concentration of assholes, weathered another volley of arrows, then stepped forward into my box, tossing another Filtration Ward around myself as I did.

"Seriously, guys, I get it. You're all pissed as fuck. But the dudes who infected Calverton are dead as fuck, and just about everybody who made it to the Lancaster Border is alive and well and sheltering in Lancaster until it's safe to live here again."

A sepulchral bass echoed up from beneath me. "The bitch lies!"

"Hey! Nice! For once one of you guys isn't mis-slurring me! I am in fact kind of a bitch! But I'm not lying. Seriously, Surrender before my Filtration Ward goes down and you'll be alive before sunset tomorrow! Or I'll personally deliver you to the afterlife of your choice if that's what you want!"

"Liar! The Gods will not have us!"

I growled, my voice amplified to ring through the entire battlefield. "There you go calling me things I'm not again. I got a family connection with Hel, and maybe some pull with Hades if he decides he wants a skylight. Anybody else who wants to keep you out just because the God formerly known as Apollo couldn't shoot for shit and blew his stanky load all over your City can suck my pumpkin spice ass, because I don't fuckin' hold with making people pay for shit they didn't sign up for if I can help it."

"You offer nothing but hubris and lies!"

I sighed, the sound amplified. "If you wanna be un-Undeaded by sunset tomorrow, lie flat on your face when the battle starts. Otherwise? You're all going down like Clanky McClankerson here." I started shaping the biggest flashiest fuckin' Smite I could.

"DESTROY HER!"

The robed figures around him, who'd already popped up little Miasma Wards the moment they saw my Smite forming, raised their hands in that Miasma Lightning position. The Fell Snipers all fired a volley straight up at me, apparently forgetting that despite everything, fuckin' gravity still worked.

Now.

Across the north side of the open area, in a bit of space opened when the Undead swarmed the hill to get closer to me, twenty Maries dropped twenty units of Dragonslayers, each led by a Phileo Hero. As Mana Wards sprang up around them, a titanium voice sliced through the battlefield, filling it precisely, with nary an echo. "Fire."

Hundreds of Zombies dropped a moment later as three hundred Crossbows sang in unison, each bolt blasting through two to three before finally stopping. A moment later twenty Phileo Heroes showed exactly why they trained with bows of all kinds, as five bolts punched through each of the Liches atop the hill. "Shields up. Counterbattery fire by ranks. Second rank... fire."

The Fell Snipers unleashed a volley at my Dragonslayers, but at the command of 'shields up', along with the front rank bringing their physical shields around and bracing against the incoming wave of Zombies, the Heroes had put up Filtration Wards inside their Mana wards, and arrows ricocheted or stopped cold as they hit them. When the second rank of Crossbows fired, half of the Fell Snipers dropped, re-dead right there. I think a lot of the bolts wound up digging into the hill behind them, but at least a few around the edges wound up taking out a few Zombies after punching holes in the archery enabled Undead.

The big guy snarled, roared, and took a step toward the Dragonslayers. I dropped down, hooking my legs around the giant Lich Knight's neck and looking him right in his glowing eyes as I said, "I warned you," and shoved that big assed Smite right through the open face of his helmet.

Of course, as I appeared, I heard "Second Rank, Fire!" precisely fill the battlefield.

As the big fucker stumbled backward, his head ashing, ninety five Crossbows thrummed. Pretty sure every one of the Heroes managed to tag him right in the chest. I'm gonna give you one guess where at least one of the other bolts wound up.

Fuck. You got this, Mittens?

Yes, Vlickies.

Good. I'mma meet you back in the Love Shack. Ow.

Y'know, I'd still have called it a completely successful plan if Saffron hadn't been snickering and whispering, "sixth" as she pulled that fuckin' bolt out.