Dear Diary,

Some days I wonder if maybe I was better off before I tried to start trying to fix myself. Okay, 'fix myself' is probably not a healthy way to say it. Before I started working on being a better person? No, that's not quite right either. Before I tried to... Heal.

Shit, I think it might speak to both my trauma and who I am as a person how hard that is to say. I can joke about my trauma all day long. It hurts to do, but I can even crack jokes about how much dumb shit I do because of that trauma. Fuck, man, I can talk shit about myself all fuckin' day long. Some days it seems like that's all I do.

But I've come to realize that's not healthy. I want to be healthy. I want to be healthy for my wives, my kids, my ladies, my kits, my Kitten. For my family. Maybe, just maybe, just the tiniest little bit, for me.

I feel guilty about that last bit, and I think that might be just another fuckin' layer of my traumatized onion self. That's kinda one of the reasons I feel so guilty about working on myself, I think. I mean, the easy bit to self-diagnose is that I've internalized all the fuckin' hatred and neglect that got heaped onto me over my first two decades. Hatred for being brown, for being woman, for being neurodivergent, although that last one was probably papered over by masking and self-hatred and depression. Neglect by the system, neglect by my sister, neglect by my mom. So I don't feel like I deserve to be healthy. Which is, of course, itself unhealthy.

But there's another, deeper thing. I know I'm one of the only things keeping all this shit from falling apart. Saffron is working with our new generation of Heroes, of Clergy, to create not just a military capable of defending all of us from foreign aggression, but also a stable, prosperous infrastructure that will make our whole nation more robust and able to deal with normal hardships, and positive diplomatic relations with our neighbors, which means our only real threats are from overseas. Fuck, the Tentacles are oceangoing vessels, and as much cargo ships as they are warships. That means once we get our shit back together, we'll be able to trade with Europans, maybe show them that we're open to peaceful coexistence.

But we keep getting hit with shit so far beyond our current military, that would wind up doing apocalyptic damage to our Cities, to our countryside, and most importantly to our people, that only I can deal with. Okay, maybe my budding little Pantheon might be able to deal with some of it. Maybe. I guess if Vyenemoinen really did mean that he's declared me his Matriarch, my Pantheon might have a little more oomph to it. But nobody in Boltophsberg other than Loviatar really seemed like they could have stopped that feral Jotnar Titan, not before it hit shore. Not without casualties.

Jack might be able to. I dunno. He's got some serious shit going on, but from what I can tell he's sorta confined to Jackville. I'm not sure if that would cover the Alliance if Jackville became part of the Alliance or not. Even if it did, I'm not sure he'd have been able to stop it without losing the Plundering Tentacle.

So it's down to me. No pressure. Shit, honestly I'm not feeling a lot of pressure in the 'can I stop them' sense. 'Can I catch them before they hurt somebody', yeah. 'Can I stop more than one at a time' is gnawing at me. I guess there's a bit of 'can I help the Alliance Pantheon and Military ramp up fast enough to deal with the shit coming at us in time for it to matter'. But mostly, my big worry is a little subtler. It's 'can I do what I need to do, with the precision and power I need to do it, not to mention the brutality to make people think twice about doing it again, if I pull so many wounded layers off of myself that there's nothing left'.

I worry about whether I can afford to heal, if my trauma is what makes me capable of being the terror that keeps my people safe. I also maybe worry if my trauma is what keeps my Mimic impulses at bay, or if healing has helped with that, or, fuck, maybe if I heal too much I won't be able to connect to that part of myself the way I do now.

So I guess I'll do what I do whenever I can't figure out what to do. I listen to my wife and do what she says. Wife say 'go heal', so I go try to heal.

Of course, the first thing that happened when I tried to start doing that yesterday was the newest adult addition to our not so little family told me she wanted a fuckin' collar. So she could officially be my Concubine. Our Concubine. Fuck, I didn't even know which she wanted. All of that was entirely beside the facts that I'd just managed to convert Concubine number one into Wife number two in the Spring, and my surreptitious plans for Wifing Concubine number two got put on pause by morning sickness, of all the fuckin' things, and now I'm gonna wind up with two of them again.

Fuck it. On the one hand, words mean things and I don't like the meaning of that word, but on the other hand I care less about official Titles and more about meaning, and with Sister Siobhan Darling the meaning is that I love her as my partner and so do Marie and Saffron, and with Tallulah she's my Co-Parent and has decided I'm gonna sire her next kid and holy shit how and when exactly did I agree to stud services.

Saffron?

Yes, love?

When did I agree to this?

That got me the sultry chuckle it deserved, followed by, just think of it as the price you must pay for the parental reinforcements we so direly need, what with your profligate parenting of lovely Marie's kittens.

Wait, are you blaming this all on me now?

Oh, no, love. Crediting you. I'm certain she'll assist us in properly rewarding you as well.

With that I grabbed Tallulah's hand and stepped us to Conrad's workshop. "Son?"

He popped down, somehow getting in front of me from above without falling. As my brain just kinda rolled with that, he said, "yes, Mother?"

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

I pulled Tallulah forward. "Tallulah Crow. Needs a collar."

He looked at her, and she made a kind of curtsey, bow combination thing. "Smith. Forgive my intrusion into your workshop."

He smiled and shook his head. "Oh, no forgiveness is needed. Mother brought you. Unless you've done something to warrant my ire?" He turned back to me. "Is that why she needs a collar?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, son. Like Siobhan's."

I have no idea how I knew he faked his sudden understanding. "Ah. Well, I suppose that means she's family then?"

I took a deep breath and plunged forward. "Yes. She's to be my Concubine. Wait," I turned to Tallulah. "Mine or ours?" At her questioning look, I said, "My Concubine, or mine, Saffron's, and Marie's?"

She frowned, not upset, but pondering. Eventually she asked, "not Siobhan's?"

That stopped me, open mouthed, for a second. "Uh. Can a Concubine even have a Concubine?"

She shrugged, as did Conrad. After a few moments of me standing there like an idiot, Tallulah said, "traditions vary. Such things are normally the bailiwick of religion or government. You are the Patron Goddess of the Alliance and your wife is Imperator." When I kept staring, she rolled her eyes and shook her head, then explained. "She can if you say she can."

"Do you... wait, no. I'm not getting into some weird multi-tiered Concubine matrix thing. Not even gonna think about it. Mine or ours?"

"Which would you prefer?"

I took a deep breath. "Don't you have an opinion one way or the other?" She shrugged. Shook her head. "Fine. Ours." I turned to Conrad. "Could you please?"

He looked at her, lifting one hand to stroke his chin as he did. "Need it match Siobhan and Marie's?"

"I, uh, wait, Marie doesn't have a collar."

He just chuckled as he turned, waving for Tallulah to follow him. "Of course she does."

I just shook my head, utterly confused, but not wanting to bicker with him when he was clearly willing to do what I needed him to for Tallulah. "Okay, um, I trust your taste. More than my own, really. I make the thing it's gonna be all tacky and shit."

As he pulled her in front of that fuckin' machine of his, he turned to me, incipient hurt coloring his expression. "Did you find the Holy Garb tacky?"

"Of course not. But I didn't have anything to do with it." He just smiled as he helped Tallulah onto the bench and strapped her down. "You're not going to hurt her, are you?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps a little. Must I not?"

"I'd kinda rather you didn't."

He turned to Tallulah. "And you, my Mother's Concubine? Would you suffer some transient pain to have the finest collar I of which I can conceive?"

"Of course."

I sat there, mouth open, as he turned to me and said, "so, Mother. Would you deny her that choice?"

I rolled my eyes. "Fuck. Just... Minimize it, if you can?"

He pressed one spread hand against his chest. "Mother dearest, I have never done less for one who has come to me for aid without offending me." He turned to Tallulah. "Hold as still as you can."

The bench swung around and up, and the knives came out. Nowhere near what I'd seen before. I held Tallulah's hand as Conrad first swabbed down Tallulah's neck, then let the machine make a few precise slices with blades so thin and sharp I swore I could see through them. Tallulah didn't flinch, didn't move, didn't react at all until the knives slipped around and took in inch wide layer of skin off of her, freckles and all. She let out a single long hiss as he stepped up and took that strip from the machine, then turned to the two of us. "Please don't perform any Healing, Mother. I'll return as quickly as I can."

"I'm not going to let her bleed out."

He blinked. "Of course not. The wounds are purely superficial. Correct?"

Tallulah tensed, slightly, then said, "of course. I will be fine, Mistress."

"Tabitha. Please."

"I will be fine, Tabitha."

I squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. "I'm still staying here with you until he's done."

She didn't shrug, but her shoulders twitched. "I've spent time in his Workshop before." I must have looked confused, because she explained. "My white Holy Garb." She got a speculative look, then said, "would it likely offend you or Priestess Most High Above All Others Aetos-Diaz were I to have him custom craft my black Holy Garb?"

"Wouldn't upset me. Can't think why it might upset her. You could call her Saffron, y'know?"

"She is your Chosen Priestess."

"Yeah, well. You could have just said 'High Priestess Aetos-Diaz'."

Again she tensed, but didn't shake her head. "How would you differentiate between Saffron and Marie then?"

Yeah, I realized at that point that when it came to that precise perfectionism, Tallulah might have more in common with Conrad than I did. "Are you comfortable like that?"

"No."

I squeezed her hand, then wrapped tentacles around her, lifting and supporting her as best I could. "How about now?"

She smiled at me without turning her head. "Much better, thank you."

I couldn't really think of anything else to say, so I just stood there holding her hand. Pretty sure I had one of those little dissociative moments where I just wondered about everything and let my brain chase itself around in circles. I'm not sure if I daydreamed or actually looked in on my ladies where they did their daily stuff. Marie kept the girls in line and handled feeding them all. Siobhan helped with kid wrangling, mostly by providing a bit of authority and advice to Maze and Ria, who parlayed their sisterly influence over Menace to keep the rest mostly coordinated in keeping the kittens occupied.

I have no fuckin' clue what exactly Conrad did, but he took his fuckin' time about that. Okay, that's not entirely fair. I'd seen what it took to make kinda mid looking but durable leather armor. I wasn't sure what Tallulah would be getting, but it wouldn't be mid looking.

At dinner Saffron thought, is all well, love?

Yeah. Just getting Tallulah her collar.

Kitten's reply was the weirdest combination of faint disappointment and subdued anticipation. Oh? I can't wait to see it.

I'm gonna stay here with her until he's done, okay?

Of course, love. Enjoy your new toy.

Our! And she's a whole assed person, not a toy.

Saffron's chuckled rubbed velvet across my brain. Oh, those are the very best kinds of toys; people who willingly choose to be so. Haven't you enjoyed playing with us? She dropped an image of the night of her Penance and Darling's reward into my head.

I think it's like the whole 'servicing' thing. I'm compromising on Concubine. I don't think I can go so far as to call any of you toys.

She hummed into my head. But I'm sure I've called you my favorite toy before, and you liked it.

Totally different thing.

That got the sexy mocking laughter I'm pretty sure it deserved. Then I shut myself up, because Tallulah had chuckled the tiniest bit at that, and it made things start leaking again.

Like I said, Conrad took his time. I didn't hear much in the way of heavy machinery going, like I had when he made The Dress' boots, but there was some metal on metal noises from other parts of the workshop. Lots of gurgling chemical noises, and plenty of what I thought of as 'sewing noises'. Scissors cutting stuff, thread slipping through, against, and across against thick fabric.

The night went by. The sun rose. The day passed, and Tallulah just stood there. Hung there. I think at one point she closed her eyes for a while. I hadn't really fully recovered from my fight with the giant Jotnar Titan thing, but I wasn't doing anything really stressful. So I stood there watching over my newest partner until, right as the sun set, Conrad returned, collar in hand.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.