Dear Diary,

I'm getting a little worried about exactly how much I'm enjoying my solution to the Norfolk problem.

Don't get me wrong, I got here honestly and with the best of intentions. The people of Calverton deserve to recover whatever they can of their City. That means we need to clear the Undead out. Since I'm really more of a weapon of ass destruction than a proper infantry unit, that means we need troops there. The troops there need food; if we send that food overland most of it will wind up rotting, which seems like a bad fuckin' plan when we're edging a Famine right now anyhow.

Which makes me think I need to talk with Dommy Mommy and have a chat with Sengann's brother. Which reminds me, I don't think Sengann was her kid, I think he was her grandkid, which might explain some of the really over the top anger. But that makes me really uncopacetic with how she calmed down when I introduced her to Isnomi, because it means she looks on grandkids as fungible assets. Which makes me real glad I've left the Emergency Coring Tentacles up her ass, even if that leaves me unpleasantly aware of other goings on in the same location.

Shit. My mental dominoes kinda went off track there. Oops.

Where was I? Right. Transporting food so it doesn't rot, because Famine. That means coming in by the naval route, which Norfolk decided to be a dick about. From what I've learned here, it wasn't some big ambiguous faceless 'Norfolk Government' or Council or some shit who decided to work on their Shitdickery Skill, it was King Gregor. Who I'm beginning to actually worry about fighting, because if he became King as this much of an asshole with as few brains as I've seen him use, he must be fuckin' hell on wheels on the battlefield. Or maybe daddy bought it all for him? No, there's some kind of 'you must be this big of a bastard to ride this ride' in Norfolk, I just can't remember what it is at the moment. Speaking of 'you must be this big to ride this ride', that's yet another tidbit of unwanted knowledge I'm enduring so our adorable scamp gets another Grandmother instead of a sock puppet. Not upset, just reminding myself, because I suspect that if I were indeed sock puppeting her, I'd get some of those good good brain chemicals rather than just an ookey sense of 'this is not the porn I wanted to fap to'.

Right. Going back to where I'd intended to go... wait, is this how adults do? Like actually go back to a line of thought rather than abandoning it like yet another unfinished project in yet another in a long line of discarded hobbies? Gotta be more to it than that. How do neurotypical people do this shit?

Anyway, King Shitdick decided to sic his Jarls on us, and threatened to declare war on us if one of our ships hurt a Norfolk ship. That meant we needed to steal Norfolk ships without making them not-Norfolk ships. When I volunteered to be voluntold by my adorable Imperator to steal those ships legally, I realized that straight up Stealing Norfolk Legally was on the table. Or, y'know, that I could put it on the table, so I did. King Shitdick, first of his name, after being told I chose this method to reduce casualties on both sides, decided to flip the script and declare war on me, personally. I think. He might be just attacking me first or some shit. At any rate, I've been publicly executing him as punishment every time he does that, then Reviving him, because Loki told me that if I just, y'know, kill the fuck out of everything the locals won't buy into it the way they seem to have when I kick the living shit out of their Champions and Jarls. Or kill the living shit out of them. Either of those seems to work.

So here we are at the end of the domino chain that starts with 'trying to get Calverton's people the shit that Apollo wrecked because his sister got pissy and killed my godchild and reaped the whirlwind back' and ends with 'serially torturing one dumb bastard to death in increasingly public venues'. I could almost, and I'm being serious here, at least I think I am, almost get behind the whole 'this is the best possible solution in a fucked up world' when I remind myself how I got here. Almost.

Seriously, I'm torturing him to death as a consequence for breaking our deal, like I spelled out as part of said deal. I'm not really trying to convince him to do or be better; I don't even know if torture will do that, but even if it wouldn't, you'd think anyone with a functioning ability to detect cause and effect would catch on and stop. I'm definitely not doing something so mouth breather stupid as torturing him for information. Finally, despite all evidence to the contrary, I'm not torturing him to death because it gets me all hot and bothered and I'm hoping if I can do it just right I'll have to give Saffron the live feed for an entirely new kind of Just Happening.

If I hadn't been working on myself, trying to be better, I might even be able to convince myself how deeply in denial I might be over that last bit.

So right as the sun set, some dude with unpleasantly high stealth skills snuck onto our floating stage, sliding a long knife out of his belt as he crept towards us. I felt kinda bad about the fact that despite how he moved so slowly and carefully, choosing his approach to be downwind of us to avoid Marie smelling him, wore some oddly cut clothing that probably broke up his outline, including dangling bits of cloth that reminded me of a ghillie suit, and had prepped enough to be able to focus on us here in a dome of complete blackness, he stood out in my wireframe vision like a hemorrhoid enhanced diarrhea splat on a pristine white kitchen tile floor.

Maybe that's what prompted me to call out, with auditory enhancement to reach the workers on the Green bleachers who'd mostly finished packing their tools in preparation for heading home, "Okay, you made it here before sunset, so we're gonna call this your Sunday attempt. But just to make it official," I reached down into the part of me that had been entirely unsurprised when the sun juked like an NFL Wide Receiver to catch the Dragon I'd yeeted to it and pulled. That shit hurt something fierce, but a second later the sun kinda hovered just over the horizon. "It's still Sunday now."

Creepy McCreeper kept moving toward me, apparently thinking I'd decided to bluff for no good goddamned reason? Maybe he thought I was talking about someone else? I pushed myself to my feet, turned my back on him, and said, "I feel kinda bad for you, so I'll even let you take the first swing, since you put so much effort into it. Just be sure not to trip over my wife or my concubine, because they're still all 'eepy and I like them that way."

I think I might have absorbed some of King Shitdick the First's arrogance when I killed him or some shit, but fuck it. 'Oh, noes, I might do something dumb!' Seriously, have you met me? Just another excuse layered on top of trauma and neurodivergence, really. But as I've said before, I'm a woman of my word. As I heard him rushing up behind me, because I am dumb of ass, but not mouth breather stupid, I Co-Located myself to hang off the edge of the stage, sculling my legs in the water as I watched the fight.

Just as I did that he dropped to one knee next to Marie, plunging his long knife into her gut over and over again. "Submit to the King, or your wife is next!" If I weren't, y'know, incandescent with white hot rage, I might have felt extra bad. This dude had even found a way to ruin his voice just to get that perfect raspy assassin voice.

However, as noted, white hot incandescent rage. The me standing in front of him didn't move, because water sports me Translocated behind him and grabbed his wrist. "That is not how Murder Mittens likes her guts rearranged, Shit Stain McSneakydick." I squeezed his wrist as hard as I could, hoping to maybe do some really painful damage to the little bones there. I'd forgotten how many Jarl's I'd Mimicked Attributes from. I met more resistance than an equivalent shape formed out of cotton candy, but less than play dough. He screamed as Marie rolled over to look up at him, growling. "You need me to fix that, sweetie?"

"Later." She reached up, flowing to her feet, and once she had a hand around Shit Stain's neck I let go and Co-Located to Gregor as I collapsed back into myself. I'm still trying really hard to convince myself that 'killing someone by torture' was something I'd suspected put someone on the list of 'people I could Translocate to', but mostly at that moment I was definitely too pissed to care.

He lifted his nose into optimal sneering position and said, "so, have you come..."

That's about when I shoved my hand into his throat and lifted him by it. He had some nice neck muscles, and I forced myself to just lift him and squeeze his trachea enough to shut him the fuck up, not actually rip it out. I Translocated us to the sky above the stage, popping up a five pack of Air Shields in Isnomi's little bouncy box configuration, although I kept the sides hip height so I could still reach King Shitdick the Last. My footing secured, I waited until I'd bounced to the notional 'front' of the box, holding him as far out as I could, trying to ignore how his carotids and trachea pulsed against my hand until I put up one last horizontal Air Shield right through his fuckin' neck. By that point two crowds had gathered, one the workers from the Green, the other the folks from the Village who'd come out to see what the fuck was up with the sun coming back up.

I pointed down to the stage, amplified my voice, and said, "you dumb motherfucker. You piss poor excuse for a shit stain. You ignorant asshole of epic proportions. How fucking dumb are you?"

I might not have needed to amplify shit with how pissed off I was and how loud I was screaming. He flailed, whether trying to free his neck or hit me didn't matter, because his foot went through the Air Shield between us and wound up catapulted into my crotch. "MOTHERFUCKER!" Shitdick definitely had some Strength; I wound up bouncing up and out of my box, having to Translocate back in when I missed the landing.

As I'd tumbled, I'd seen Marie in the process of deconstructing the assassin. "Y'know? I was gonna get creative, but I'mma dedicate this one to all the hardworking maids out there, especially my favorite, Murder Mittens Maenad Marie. Now, I'm sure I explained the rules before, but lemme go over that shit again. You get a limited number of chances to send Champions to kill me. Given how my cooch aches right now, you might even have some that can beat me by, like, punting me out of the ring or some shit. If you'd get your fuckin' head out of your ass and stop doing this kind of dumb shit. Hell, you had an assassin! A damn good one! Super sneaky, stayed on target, even delivered your dumb shit threat. Totally would have called that a legit attempt, but no, instead of having him try to sneak up and shiv me in my sleep? You fuckin' had him go after my maid. My concubine. My beloved lover who I love loving, like you thought somehow I wasn't in any way emotionally bonded to the fucking woman I love fucking so much, You FUCKING..."

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

At that point he kicked his other leg at me, so I reached down, got a good grip, and ripped his goddamned foot off. Took a bit of work, and I definitely cheated by turning my fingernails into super stubby Mana Blades. Then, as I used longer ones to punch holes in his pelvis and shoulders to stop him flailing around, I said, "I'll bet you think I'm gonna suffocate you, with that Air Shield pulling all the air out of your lungs. That probably hurts like a bitch, don't it? GOOD!"

I lost track of how long I spent, joint by joint, ripping his shit off and tossing it to the ground. I kept having to Stabilize him to keep him conscious, but this bitch wasn't dying until I was satisfied. Eventually I stood, face flushed, panting just a little, as his head slid down the Air Shield toward me, eyes rolling in their sockets, something like wheezing screams coming out of his mouth as the Air Shield blew air up his windpipe. I grabbed him by the hair, held his head out to drip onto the Air Shields beneath me, splattering bits of whatever dripped out all over me like sauce on the plates at one of those super fancy restaurants, and said, "you have six attempts left, Shitdick." I turned to the sun and said, "you can go now."

It dove behind the horizon like an osprey that had just seen a particularly tasty fish, and bobbed up over the eastern horizon a moment later.

I stepped us both to M-Space, spun him around to face away from me, dropped my Blend, which just so happened to leave his oxygen starving brain right smack dab in the middle of my connection to Mimic proper, then pulled Mana from her. I'm not sure if it hurt or not, but his Soul screamed like it did, which made me happy in special big girl ways. Then I Revived him, pushed my Blend back up, and stepped us back to his throne room, where I rammed his naked ass onto one of the pointy bits at the top of his throne.

Then I stepped back to the cool darkness of the stage and collapsed, shuddering. Saffron scooched over and pulled my head into her lap. "There, there, sweet Goof. Marie is fine. Once she finished with Gregor's assassin, I Healed her." She paused, a single snorted chuckle interrupting her. "Despite her insistence that she'd be fine with just a little Sparagmos."

I looked around. I wasn't crying about Marie, not really, but I kinda wanted her to help Saffron smother me. "Where'd she go?"

"She stepped back to Phileo to have Conrad repair her outfit. I think she likes having something other than her uniform, even if she'd never admit it."

"When we get done all this fuckin' shit? We're goin' shopping and buying her an entire goddamned wardrobe of shit. Maybe even one or two things that aren't too slutty to wear outside the bedroom."

"Like you'd let that stop you."

"Well, no, but she's all elegant and shit, I can't see her flouncing around in three pieces of electrical tape and a smile." Right about then another sob shuddered its way out of me.

She stroked my hair and made quiet shushing comfort noises at me. "She'll be back soon, love. Don't fret."

I shook my head. It spoke to the depths of my despair that I barely noticed the squish of her thighs or her still damp denim. "Not that."

"Then what? He didn't touch me, and our little Menace remains in Phileo. Flying under Sigyn's supervision today, I think."

I opened my mouth, but couldn't force the words out. Almost sheepishly I let them trickle directly into Saffron's brain. I fucked up.

How, love?

I ran the full record of the last execution back to her. All sensation channels, even what passed for my thoughts, from beginning to ignominious end. I'm sorry.

Oh. She sat there stroking my hair for a bit. Well. Given your intentions and state of mind, we can clearly mark this as Just Happening. Given how broken up you seem to be about it, I'm of a mind to ignore any other consequences.

"No," I sobbed, my voice half incomprehensible from snot and hiccoughs. "That's not... I don't want... I can't... I didn't..." My incoherent sobbing mutters finally brushed away the bullshit covering the core of my shame and brand shiny new self-hate. "I didn't even fucking ask."

She blinked down at me, stunned into momentary silence. "You... That is your concern, of all things?" When I nodded, still crying, she said, "you were literally torturing him to death as slowly as you could possibly arrange it, and that is your concern?"

Barely trusting my voice, I sobbed out, "I... I... I... r..."

"Stop!" I froze, sobs still shuddering through me. "Tabitha Diaz, you will be silent while I pronounce your consequence for this. Do you understand?" I nodded. "Do you accept my authority to impose consequences upon you?" I nodded again. "Will you accept those consequences without question, without rancor, and without attempting to impose a single additional one of any kind?"

I sniffled out, "yes?"

"Excuse me?"

"Yes." I whispered.

"Well then. This is your consequence. You will not mention that again, save I mention it first. You will not indulge yourself in that manner again, save you ask for and receive permission first. Should you find yourself falling prey to such impulses again, you will stop, inform me immediately, and if whatever activity you are engaged in must be completed without delay, you will allow me to finish it, save I command you continue. Do you understand?"

Confusion and consternation warred with guilt and shame. I latched on the least confusing thing. "Permission? Who is going to give me permission?"

She shrugged. "Some people are stupid. Other people are Marie."

That's when I realized Murder Mittens had returned, because when I opened my mouth to argue, she said, "Yes."

"The fuck, Marie?"

"Sparagmos."

My jaw dropped open. "You like that?"

"Itch."

More than a bit of hysteria grabbed me as I said, "what kind of a freak am I that I'd get off on doing something like that to someone I love?"

"Mine."

Saffron flicked my nose. "As she says, exactly the kind of freak to cater to our Marie's decidedly exotic tastes. Now, you never answered. Do you understand?"

I thought about it, then blanched. I whispered, "are you gonna tell me to do that again?"

"Do you trust me?"

I buried my face in her lap. Yes.

"Even with that?"

I whimpered. Yes.

"Then trust me when I say; I cannot think of a time I would do so, but I can foresee those who would do harm to those we love, not to mention burn down the world we are trying to build? Somehow finding a way to abuse any limit we set ourselves to do so." Her voice went hard, cold, enough to make Domnu shiver. "I will not give them that opening, no matter how well intentioned doing so might be."

I sniffled. "Okay," I muttered into the denim of her jeans, now as sopping with tears and snot as it ever had been with rainwater.

"So, you agree to these consequences?"

"Yes." I pulled her closer. "Hold me?"

Both of them collapsed on me, surrounding me with warm, soft acceptance. "Of course, Goof."

I don't know if I can forgive myself.

You'd best try. You are, after all, a woman of your word.

Fuck.

Not now, love.

I rolled my eyes, but snuggled in and let myself drift off as the sun wandered overhead in wireframe. As it approached the Western horizon, a dozen Trolls crawled over the edges of the stage. My three Bois spun at the first sound, their halberds flashing out as they advanced.

"Wait." My Bois froze. "Can you breathe underwater?" They thumped their halberd butts against the stage floor once. "Okay then."

I stepped over to grab my swordstaves, Co-Located and used Mana Blades to remove the Trolls' feet and hands, then dropped the Mana Blades and just lopped the poor scaly bastards' limbs off and kicked them into the water. I stepped back to Saffron and sighed. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"You did give your word. So by your agreed upon consequence, it behooves you not to enjoy your next actions."

I heaved a sigh, dropped my weapons, and huffed out, "Okay."

I stepped to King Shitdick, grabbed him by the ear, stepped both of us back to the stage, leaving his clothes behind, then Mana Bladed his cock off. I shoved him face first into the water, Co-Located enough of me to neutralize the shit out of his elbows and knees, then pulled him back out when his flailing got a little weak. He gasped for air, and I rammed his cock home, Mineral Bonding the base to his lips, then squeezing his nostrils shut and Mineral Bonding them that way. I dropped him face first back in the water, grabbed him by the ankle, and stepped us both up into the spot I'd performed aerial Sparagmos the day before. Locking his feet in place with an Air Shield so he dangled upside down choking to death, I stepped up to balance atop the soles of his feet and I amplified my voice. "You dumb mother fucker. At what point are you going to realize that all you're doing sending more troops at me is proving exactly how fucking dumb you are? Okay, that's not true, you're also proving exactly how little you care about your people, since they're suffering right along with you." I stood there for a second, doing my best to remain utterly unmoved by Shitdick's suffering. "Okay, you're gonna hang there until I'm sure you're dead, but I can't be arsed to stay here watching your pitiful ass bleed in your own face. Five attempts left, Shitdick."

I stepped down to Saffron and Marie and buried myself in them again. "Oh, shit."

"What is it now, Goof?"

"How am I properly gonna kill the fuck out of any Champions or Jarls he sends?"

She gently stroked my hair while Marie chuckled and purred. "Is it really that hard?"

Hysteria teased the words, "that's what she said," out of my mouth before I shook my head and said, "yeah? Kinda? Sometimes?"

"So when you're asking them if they surrender, explicitly tell them."

I rooched around to look up at her where she smiled down at me. "Really. I'm just supposed to straight up say, 'if you don't surrender, I'm gonna literally get off on killing you a lot, so if you don't want to be a really abused sex toy, surrender?"

She just shrugged. "Stupid consent is still informed consent."

"What the fuck do I do if they surrender?" I wailed.

"What do you do when someone says stop when one or both of you are already knuckle, nay wrist deep in the other?" she snapped back.

"Stop. Duh." She just stared at me while Marie purred and snuggled into me. After a moment I deflated. "Shit. That was a dumb question, wasn't it?"

She smiled down and booped me on the nose like we hadn't just been talking about the absolute freakiest shit I'd ever heard of. "Just a Goof one, Goof. Now, you're finished for the day, so shall we settle in for the night?"

That sounded like a great idea to me. I think I really needed some brainless star staring, or weird pseudo vore shit with chibi Saffron which not only sounded way weirder when I thought about it awake, but somehow way less freaky than what we'd just been discussing.

When I had to get up and Revive Gregor a few minutes later it pissed me off so much that I left him atop the roof of his longhouse with the weathercock jammed up his ass.

Yeah, I think I need to get this shit done and get back to therapy, ASAP.