Dear Diary,

"If you trust in yourself... and believe in your dreams... and follow your star... you'll still get beaten by people who spent their time working hard and learning things and weren't so lazy."

- Terry Pratchett

It's weird how the folks who make shit better are typically the ones who do boring, reliable, everyday shit, but the ones we praise and heap rewards on are the ones who do crazy high risk shit. I mean, I get it, one bear will wreck an entire village unless somebody goes out and bears the burden of burdening the bear, so we gotta give somebody props when they step up. But even there, if instead of relying on the rage of adrenaline junkies, we build a really good fence, keep all the smelly garbage contained, and leave the bear unmolested while it's doing its salmonquest shit, the bear suddenly has no reason to be up in our grill trying to steal shit off our grill.

Heh. I remember this old track that got popular as backing audio for stupid internet videos for a while, one line went 'when at last, I'm with you, our embrace, will shake the room'. Suffice to say that the Love Shack did in fact shake last night. No idea whatsoever why Saffron wants to see me in a bikini, but holy fuckballs does she have the curves to pull that shit off. Or, y'know, to inspire others to pull it off.

Fell asleep down there, woke up in bed. Mimic dreams were mostly back to normal, chibi Chef Marie has the sous chefs back under control, and the psychotropic psychedelic tadpoles have most of the Chesapeake lit up now. Shit's like dancing hamster elder meme meets that Travolta movie from before the dawn of time. No idea why Mimic or I would get disco imagery in our heads. I'd say disco inferno, but, y'know, water tends not to burn.

Weird fuckin' dream. Gotta wonder if that Rich Man's Port fae garden in M-Space is fucking with Mimic's head or something.

Woke up with Saffron and I each half buried under a purring Marie. I looked up at our vigilant guardian Marie from the safety of her lap, smiled, and said, "if I didn't know any better, I'd think you enjoyed last night more than either of us."

She nodded and confirmed my thought when she said, "Yes."

"You know we love you, right?"

Her lips curved in a confused, wondering, but happy smile. "yes?"

"Well. We do. And while it is totally not just about sex, you don't have to hold yourself out just for our sakes." When she frowned thoughtfully, I realized I might not have understood her when she grinned down at me.

"Not."

I wrapped my arms around her waist and snuggled in to wait for the rest of the family to wake up. "Okay."

When Saffron and Menace finally woke up, we all helped one another get dressed for the day. Maybe not as hot as yesterday, but definitely more fun. Okay, some fun hot overlap when it came to getting to tighten up Marie's corsetry. Did not realize she could make those squeaky noises. Then again, I'm not sure she knew she could make those squeaky noises. Of course, I learned some nice things too, stuff I hadn't really realized from taking Glowing Midnight off of Saffron, because I'd always been too focused on the contents to pay attention to the packaging. The boning in the corsetry was neither thin nor narrow. I also suspect it wasn't made of something as relatively flimsy as steel. Even if the 'armor' Conrad added for dress up on Gladiator Day didn't protect my Kitten from the front and rear, her corsetry would make it a lot harder for anybody to damage her precious torso meats.

I don't think Murder Mittens would ever let someone stab her, but I felt better knowing she'd have that kind of protection too. Which brought something to mind. "Hey, Marie?"

She smiled down at me as I carefully tugged her boots up. "Vlickies?"

"If I asked you to, could you wear Glowing Midnight's corsetry under your Maid uniform?"

She rolled her eyes a bit, then tilted her head to think about it for a moment before replying, "Yes."

I let out a surprisingly fervent sigh of relief. "Oh, good. I don't like the thought of you getting stabbed in the unprotected gut by some asshole Undead down in Calverton."

Every Marie in the room froze, then turned to watch as the one I was dressing turned, lifted me by the armpits, and kissed me until my head spun. Then she put me back down, blushing, and I finished getting her into her Holy Garb. "Oh."

Saffron chuckled, but her smile showed something sad behind it. "Not even D?"

Marie just shook her head.

It took me until we were all finished dressing to get it. When I did I kept my mouth shut until we saw Menace off on her day of accompanying Marie doing Maid things. Then Saffron and I turned and, by unspoken accord, herded all the Maries in the room into a single little bunch before putting our arms around them and squeezing. "I guess everybody who knows you enough to know you're gonna be doing crazy dangerous shit thinks of you as the most dangerous thing they'll ever see."

She purred, but muttered, "Am."

Saffron snorted, "the Goof might rival you, beloved Maenad. She definitely understands the more important part, though." We'd all sort of collapsed into one of each of us, and Marie and I both looked down into Saffron's earnest eyes. "Everyone who knows anything about Maenads knows that no matter what happens to you, so long as Sparagmos occurs you'll return the next sunrise, stronger than ever. But... it still hurts, doesn't it?" Marie froze. "We all know how much you adore playing with pain, but it's not always like that, is it?" Marie just stood there, slumping into us. "Beloved Maenad, would that I could make a world where you would never feel unwanted pain again. Nor the pain of being unwanted. For who you are, not what you are."

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

We got a late start on the day. Maybe a bit of a damp one, too. Fuck it. Worth.

By midday I'd begun to have a suspicion about that one alley. Red flag popped up, and before we Co-Located over, I lay a hand on Marie's forearm and said, "follow." When I hopped to the docks, I hopped further away than I had the day before, then sprinted up and leapt to the top. The far end of the alley had a small unit of Undead Soldiers. I looked around at the new unit on this alley's defenses, realizing right then that these weren't the same guys. Last time it had mostly been Cold Iron clad Calverton Soldiers, this time I recognized a few faces from the Dragonslayers. There also had to be at least twice as many.

Of course, the Undead Soldiers weren't the real problem. That would be the big assed dude backing them up, the pair of archers behind him, and a little robed somebody mostly hidden behind the archers. I turned to the guy who'd thrown the flag. "Sergeant?"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"We're goin' in low. The moment you guys have an angle to shoot any of those fuckers in the back, you do so. Especially that one hiding all the way back there."

He nodded, but looked doubtful. "You sure, Ma'am? We don't want to hit you."

I smiled at him, then tapped him on the shoulder with a loosely balled fist. "I got you, Sergeant. You hit us, it's clearly the Mage's fault for making the bolts curve or some shit."

This time he looked way less doubtful. "Shoot at them there Heroes the moment we have a clear shot, focus fire on the Mage, don't worry about hitting you two. Got it."

A moment later the Undead Soldiers charged. Marie and I both dropped straight down to the base of what was now a two and a half story wall across the alley, then charged the enemy, weapons out, crouched low. I heard the first volley of bolts fly overhead, impacting on the big dude like steel rain. The Sergeant called out something like, "ranks rotate, volley fire from cover!"

Then we were into the enemy Soldiers, taking them apart joint by joint. Another volley flew overhead, striking sparks from the armored dude. He grunted as at least two holes through his shield leaked black ooze, and one of his eyes had a bolt sticking out of it now. Solid helmet, catching a crossbow bolt that way. Of course, it might have been one of those like Gregor's, because I couldn't see his other eye. Then again, maybe he just didn't need his eyes or brain any more.

I let Marie step forward and continue culling the Soldiers while I took half a step back and charged up a Smite while steel flew back and forth. Arrows shot overhead, and I heard some screams, but I took some comfort in the fact that dead guys didn't scream. The moment my Smite was ready, I darted through an opening Marie made and unleashed it right into the big fucker.

Who just stood there and took it as it bounced off his fuckin' armor. "I hate fuckin' Cold Iron!' I swore, then ducked under a slash from a big ugly sword he whipped around with one hand. I ended that particular bit of assholery by taking his arm off at the elbow, but that left me off balance. When he charged me with his shield, all I could do was get my arms up to block before he shoved me straight into the stone wall behind me. "Look, I'm all for being sandwiched, just ask my wife, but your B O is a deal breaker, dude."

He didn't get my humor. Instead of laughing he headbutted me. I did not like the ugly organic crack or the metallic twisting rending noise that came from that, but he staggered backward half a step, then rose into the air. For a moment I worried, until I realized he wasn't flying or some shit. Marie had him by the back of the neck, and was using him as an Undead human shield to block the Archers while she removed his limbs one joint at a time.

Of course, going hand to hand with Undead had the predictable result. I watched her wither in real time, and by the time she had his legs off, she went to one knee and crouched behind what remained of him, because I wasn't sure she could lift him. I slid in with my sword staves and took his shield arm off, then used them like tongs, shoving one into each armpit and throwing him overhand at that fuckin' Mage hiding behind the archers.

Right before the big fucker got there, the Mage did something and the big dude slammed down right on top of the archers with some really nasty splurch noises. My sense of triumph was short lived, because the next moment the fucker's Miasma rolled over Marie and I, driving me to my hands and knees and dropping her flat on her back. He tossed some kind of glowing green fire over my head, and an explosion rocked the top of the wall, but a moment later I heard a roaring battle cry followed by at least a dozen crossbows firing.

Whatever the Mage had done with the big dude, he did it again. A few bolts flew past me. More than that hit my back, my shoulders, my ass, my thighs. Those fuckin' stung, but not nearly as much as the one that, much like one had while I fought the Dragon, found the one big chink in my buns of steel.

"MOTHERFUCKER!" I screamed, then Shaped the world's biggest yet shittiest Smite. I didn't release it immediately. I'd love to explain some fancy tactical reason, but anything other than 'he pissed me off' would be a lie. I leapt forward and, hand blackening where I grabbed him by the collar of his robe, rammed the Smite directly down his fuckin' throat, pouring Mana into it the whole goddamned time.

He screamed, the sound an unholy mating of a human sized teakettle and a damned Soul. Every orifice on his body, tear ducts included, erupted in flames. Then the fucker exploded, which stung the fuck out of my hand, but mostly just threw Marie and I backward. She broke my fall, but did not sound like she liked it. "Murder Mittens? You okay?"

"No."

The awful Miasma I'd felt earlier was gone, so I said, "Head back, I'll be along presently." When she dissipated, I kipped up, then stepped up to the top of the wall. The Sergeant stood there, wide eyed. I must have looked a mess, and I know I was pretty fuckin' pissed, especially about the bolt lodged where the sun didn't shine. "Sergeant?"

"Yes, Ma'am?" When I paused, mostly to get my own fuckin' head straight, he stammered out, "I'm sor..."

I interrupted him by grabbing him by his hard leather plastron, shoving him against the wall, and taste testing his tonsils for a few seconds. When I pulled away, with the entire unit standing there shocked into silence, I winked at him and said, "that's for following my fuckin' orders to the fuckin' letter. Good job. That big fucker has a bunch of Cold Iron on him; recover it and anything else useful, but be careful of the Miasma." Then I pulled him in for a quick hug, whispering, "sorry if you're, y'know, not into chicks or whatever. But you did good."

I collapsed back into myself to the sound of cheering Dragonslayer Volunteers. "Mittens?"

"Yes?"

"Can you get the bolts out of me please?"

She took hold of my shoulder and gently turned me around, then said, "No."

"Why?" I whined.

She slid one long-fingered hand along my bare back, and I felt every inch it travelled. No bolts stuck in me whatsoever. No point sources of pain, no blood, nothing. "Dafuq?" I tensed up, and one source of pain made itself known. "There's one in my ass." Her hand cupped one cheek, then the other, and I added, "right down main street." She tried, she really did, but when the ghost of a snort blew warm breath over my back, I groaned out, "go ahead, let it out."

I love my Murder Mittens, I really, really do, but it took her like fifteen minutes before she even stopped laughing long enough to make a good faith effort at rectal bolt removal. After like another hour or so of me trying to keep an eye on the docks with our binocs and her trying to pry the fucker free, we realized two things. First, that my instinctive reaction to something attempting to go in through the out door was to clench. Second, that my glutes are now, in fact, stronger than Marie's fingers.

I did not wake up today with a need to learn that, after all my taunting Lancasters small and large about their ability to collapse matter and form diamonds, my ass is now, in point of fact, capable of extruding wire.

But here we are.