Nobody was doing Blondie dirty enough for Isca caricature resolution 2024 I simply had to step in

another long one, coming in at 9k words because i am goddamn trash

HEY GUYS SORRY ABOUT THAT UGH today just didn’t go the way i wanted it to. you ever feel like that?  well anyway here is the 11th chapter!!! fun fact: hurk and sharky show up! second fun fact: i am 90% sure that it is not moonshine they’re peddling.  3rd fun fact: i don’t know if they know what an apple looks like any more

i don’t have much to say about this chapter, although i will say it involves casual drinking if you’re not into that.  i think i’m gonna go have a newcastle myself once i’m done writing this up... which i guess means now!

as usual my dudes, i want to thank you all for being so tolerant of my bullshit and so open to my dumbassery! it’s so nice to feel MOTIVATED to post for once, which might not come through when i get delayed like i have the last 2 chapters, but it’s true! i have so much trouble working on things without feedback, so you guys really have been awesome.

if you wanna contact me, my askbox is always open! as always, i appreciate any and all comments, kudos, likes, reblogs, casual links, private discord messages, idk whatever i don’t even use discord

below the cut is the full chapter for those of you who don’t wanna go off-site! thank you again for reading guys, and i will talk incessantly about this fic soon!!!

The next three days are marked by a surprising peace. Nick had suspected that once the cat got out about John, they would be fielding a flurry of calls, or maybe even some in-person confrontations, but so far they've been left completely alone. Maybe telling people on their way out of the county has something to do with that. Maybe they'll need to wait for Hurk and Sharky to come back and spread the news if Jerome's decided not to do it himself. Nick's not sure if that's even what he wants , but it feels like the inevitable next step. Eventually, if the community is going to come together, the cat's gonna have to get out of the bag.

John is just as nervous than before, although it only shows whenever they hear distant engines or a far-off gunshot. The night after the caravan, he and Jerome spend a full thirty minutes on the radio, but it only makes him more pensive and reserved. Nick wouldn't mind so much if Carmina weren't also acting bummed out — sure, she's just upset that she lost a friend before she could make one, but it still sucks to see his daughter acting as morose as John.

At least Kim's optimism hasn't been phased. She's been determined to look at the situation from every positive angle available, and none of Nick's uncertainty has put a hamper on it. She rallies them all for a second day-trip down to the river, hell-bent on cheering each and every one of them. It's a day of sunlight and clear water, and the fish are jumping like mad. It must be spawning season, or something, because the suckers are easy pickings.

The nice weather and the easy fishing both do wonders for Carmina's mood, which is becoming more and more fickle every day. Nick dozes in and out with a rod in hand, and although John spends most of the time staring at the water, he touches base with reality once in a while. Mostly just when Kim includes him in conversation, but it's still enough.

It's... nice. Nick doesn't know the last time he felt so relaxed. He doesn't think that memory exists anymore, lost to time like so many other positive thoughts, but he's enjoying the reminder to relax his shoulders and turn off his anxious brain for a few minutes. With the sunshine just as warm as ever and the water a bright, nearly unnatural blue, Nick figures all they need is an umbrella and some beach towels to drive the point home. Hell, at this point, they might as well claim this as their private waterfront.

Grace shows up after breakfast the next day, ready to take Carmina for some target practice at her range. She isn't strictly speaking to Nick yet, but she keeps it cordial, even friendly with Kim. Maybe Jerome talked with her, or maybe she came to accept the situation on her own, who knows. Either way, Grace ignores the sight of John out on the back porch and treats Carmina to a genuine smile when she comes downstairs, rifle in hand. Finally, three-quarters of the year later, the situation with Grace has finally returned to normal, taking one more weight off of Nick's shoulders.

She promises to have Carmina back before sundown. She also promises to leave her radio on, just in case. Nick knows what she means by just in case , but he can't say no to the added security.

Nick retreats out back, letting Kim have some time with Grace without the awkward tension of his presence. John pointedly refuses to look at him, sorting through a box of components as though he hasn't already picked it apart.

It isn't until after Grace and Carmina leave that Nick remembers he has an out — well, now it's just a regular chore. He's got to deal with the so-called freezer in the hangar, which is full of fish and sucking up all the fuel for the generator. Either he has to make it viable to use long term, or they're going to be shit out of luck for food preservation beyond salting and pickling.

From the look on his face, John wishes Nick would ask for his help, but Kim has already called on him to help harvest the last of the spring planter, so he's shit out of luck there. Nick doesn't have any damn sympathy for John — gardening is boring, and Nick will do anything to avoid it, especially something as easy as throwing John under a bus.

So, the good news is that the freezer still turns on. Nick hadn't expected much after finding it under part of the collapsed roof, but it hasn't shorted out once since they hooked it up to the generator about a week ago.

The bad news is that it's not a good use of power at all. The rubber seal is nearly worn off, so it keeps losing coolness, and there's definitely a coil burnt out or something in there because it barely manages to keep its temperature lower than the air around it. Sure, maybe it'll come in handy around winter , but that's not going to help them with summer around the corner.

As it is, Nick's only sure that the fish from yesterday are still good. There's a covered pot of stew underneath that they put in after the caravan left, which is probably fine, too... but Nick wouldn't put money on the rabbit they put in at the start. After all, it hadn't been all that fresh to begin with, and it's been wrapped in cloth for a little too long.

Well, maybe once they get some chickens and find a post-apocalyptic appliance repair center, it'll be worth being the energy sink that it is. For now, Nick has to figure out what to do with these goddamn fish and the leftover stew from the other night. It's their own damn fault, thinking they'd still have company after revealing John, but that doesn't change the amount of food they have on hand.

At least when Grace comes back, they'll have something to repay her with, although Nick isn't sure she's willing to eat any of their food yet. She'd been okay about seeing John in the backyard, relatively speaking, but there's no way she actually believes any of the progress being made. And as much as Nick would like to tell her that her distrust is unwarranted, he can't exactly tell her how to feel. It's just gonna have to take time, and she's going to need a different kind of proof than Nick.

They aren't expecting any visitors, so the sound of engines on approach shakes Nick out of his thoughts and puts him on immediate high alert. He can't make out the number of vehicles, but it sounds like a goddamn posse, which can't be good. When he goes out into the yard to check on Kim, he finds her missing; John is the only one standing there, waiting nervously by the planters and looking for any sign to bolt.

"Stay here," Nick tells him as he approaches, heading straight for the front.

"Yes, I know ," John snaps, but Nick isn't going to stop to argue with him. He slows his anxious jog as he comes around the side of the house, catching sight of Hurk's motorcycle through the trees coming down the drive. Kim is standing in the front yard, arms loosely folded over her chest; she looks cautiously excited for the company, although neither of them are sure if this is strictly a social call. Nick sure hopes it is — he's not sure they could hold their own against a group with an RPG and a whole lot of crazy.

Hurk kills his engine once he sees they've got an audience, leaving his bike with the others in the drive. The big, blissed-out guy and the smaller, wild-card one stay on their bikes, while Sharky talks to somebody sitting on his ATV briefly before following his cousin's tracks.

Kim greets them with a warm smile as they come up. "Hey, you guys. We weren't expecting you to stop by again."

"We radioed ahead," Sharky grouses. "But nobody answered."

"Sorry, I wasn't near the receiver. We've been out back all day."

Hurk pulls off his sunglasses with a dramatic flair. "Yeah, I figured it was something like that," he says, with a tone that implies Sharky had a different theory, one Nick imagines involves John staging some sort of coup. "Well, whatever, we're here now!" Looking around coolly for a second, Hurk realizes he still needs to explain himself and bashfully elaborates, " Somebody oughtta know we got back alright, so we can get hired out again and whatnot..."

"Everything cool?" Sharky asks. He makes no effort to hide how he's looking for a fire that he can blame on John. Well, at least he's trying to find a good reason to beat John up this time.

"I should be asking you that," Kim counters, wearing a smile that's enough to disarm Sharky's gruff posturing. "How far did you get?"

"We hit Great Falls before we figured any further was a one-way trip. They're probably past Missoula if they kept up the clip."

"And how'd everything look?" Nick asks. "I mean, relatively speaking."

Sharky shrugs. "A whole lot of the same," he replies. Hurk rolls his eyes in his cousin's direction, fixing him with an annoyed stare that eventually wears Sharky out. Shoulders slumping in defeat, he opens up semi-reluctantly. "It wasn't the, uh... wild wasteland I was expecting. Lots of empty land and road stops. Some friendly, some... uh, not so much. But that group can handle it."

Nick is happy to agree, and not just to placate Sharky. "Yeah," he says. "Hope County breeds tough people."

"Did you guys pick up somebody along the way?" Kim asks, having just done a headcount of the remaining posse. Nick remembers the two on their bikes; the new guy, he remembers from the third car, quiet and quick to leave but otherwise unmemorable.

"Oh, that's Mud," Sharky says, pointing at the three who probably can't hear much over the rumbling engines. "He was with the caravan, but he changed his mind." Sharky's chest puffs up as he confidently tells them, "He's ridin' with us now."

"That's great!" Kim exclaims. She's genuinely excited by the news and the chance to socialize, and the effect of her positivity is hard to fight. Sharky can't help but smile back, even if he's trying to act tough, rubbing his hands together as he casts another approving glance back at his gang.

"Are you going to do anything to celebrate?" she asks.

"Not much to celebrate, he's kind of a nerd."

"Come on," Kim laughs. "You left home and came back with more people than you started with. I think most people these days would count that as a win." She rubs her hands together, looking briefly at Nick and suggesting, "We could have a fish fry?"

"Hey, that's an idea," Nick replies. "We caught some bass yesterday and they're just gonna get composted if we don't do something with them."

"I dunno about that," Sharky says, cutting off Hurk just before he can excitedly agree.

Kim presses her hands together. "Come on, stay," she pleads with a smile. "At least let us feed you. When's the last time you had something more than jerky and booze?"

"Well..." Sharky trails off uncertainly.

"Kim's right," Nick cajoles. "We got plenty to spare."

"Grace is going to be back with Carmina in a few hours," Kim adds. "I'm sure she'd be glad to see you guys."

Sharky rubs his beard, looking back at their waiting posse. "Grace, huh?" he repeats. He trades a few unsubtle glances with Hurk before finally turning back to Kim and Nick. "Yeah, that should be okay. Except — ah, shit. We promised Wallace and Tiny we'd start doing things democratically now that we won't keep tying over everything. Hold on, gotta go confer with the boys."

They only spend a minute talking it over before the two motorcycles kill their engines, which is all the confirmation Nick needs to know they're hosting company. "I'll go tell John," he tells Kim under his breath. "Somebody should give him a heads up before Sharky punches him again."

Kim sends him off with a pat on his shoulder as he heads for the backyard. John is still waiting by the planters, although he's staring longingly for the safety of the hangar. Nick can't blame him — he's still sporting a dark and noticeable bruise from the last time Sharky socked him. Hopefully, seeing his lingering handiwork will satisfy Sharky, otherwise, John might wind up with a matching set.

"Sharky and Hurk are back," Nick says. John doesn't exactly relax, but knowing he doesn't have to prepare for another ugly reintroduction keeps him from bolting. "They're, uh, gonna stick around until Grace gets back."

"Then I probably shouldn't be around," John replies.

"What, you wanna go hide all night?" Nick rolls his eyes. "No, don't be a baby. Worst that'll happen is you'll get knocked down again." John doesn't look convinced, so Nick tries another route. "Come on, we went through all that just so you wouldn't have to hide out every time we have company. And people are gonna have to get used to you eventually — at least Sharky and Hurk already know you're alive." Finally, when none of that seems to work, he sighs and promises, "I'll make sure nobody decks you for no good reason, c'mon."

John finally relents, sighing and gesturing vaguely. "Fine," he says, "Whatever you say."

And, even though Kim isn't around to force him to it, John sits back down at the planter and resumes pulling carrots. It's probably entirely out of spite, but at least it keeps him busy while the posse of would-be raiders filters into the backyard. Nick stands awkwardly at first as Wallace and Tiny stare aggressively at John's back, but when Kim rounds out the group and nobody takes a shot at either of them, he forces himself to ease up on the suspicion. From here on out, Nick is going to try his damnedest to act like everything is absolutely normal. Well, as normal as it can be.

Kim has Sharky talking from the outset, which makes it easy for him to avoid acknowledging John at all. It helps that she's genuinely interested in what he's been up to since they last saw each other — other than open-channel conversations on the radio, the Ryes haven't seen them since the world ended. With only one car and not a lot of fuel, they haven't had a chance to go exploring the east side of the county since climbing topside.

As it turns out, Sharky and Hurk have shacked right back up at the old trailer park. They'd met up with Wallace and Tiny sometime after coming topside, and right now the four of them are in the middle of making the park more hospitable. Sharky keeps mentioning a reception area, and Hurk says something about expanding the lot, so Nick suspects they're looking to cash in on the heretofore abandoned hospitality industry.

For now, though, it's just home to four wildcards and one multi-use distillery made from old airplane parts. "It's pretty much fucked," Sharky says, although truthfully, Nick thinks it sounds kind of badass. "But with enough elbow grease, we'll probably be able to make it livable." He looks around, craning his neck to eyeball the mostly-intact hangar and their secure house, and offers a genuine compliment. "You guys got lucky. No hate, just glad you had somewhere to hole up in. It would suck to really have to rough it with a kid around."

"Tell me about it," Kim agrees emphatically. "Although, it took a lot of work to make it this nice, and there's still a lot more to do."

Sharky and Hurk settling in around the fire-pit is all the invitation their crew needs to make themselves more at home. It's no surprise that they pretend like John isn't there — nor is it a surprise that John returns the favor. It's a little tense and a lot awkward for Nick, but for now it's at least a peaceful holding pattern.

"It sorta sucked, seeing everything as trashed as it is here," Tiny says somewhat morosely. "I mean, at least we ain't alone, but..."

"Hope Valley got the best of it in general," Wallace says. "Right in the sweet-spot. Ideal Collapse."

"He means most everything else got blasted," Tiny clarifies, a sort of post-Bliss interpreter. "You can tell when you leave the county. Eases up after a couple of miles, but there's, like, a big old ring around us."

"No doubt, no doubt," Wallace agrees. "Protecting the good stuff."

"It's pretty fuckin' weird," Hurk says. "But I don't know nothin' about nu-clear thermodynamics and whatnot. Could be normal as the albino deer and shit."

"Uh, you think that the caravan's gonna be okay out there, if everything's just as wrecked?" Nick asks.

"Oh, sure," Hurk drawls. "There were all sortsa people makin' due out there, one way or another. They'll be fine ."

Sharky sighs, opens his mouth, then thinks better of whatever he was going to say and changes course. "They made it pretty clear they would be happier without help," he says. "Hope that works out for them. Me? I'm ride-or-die Hope County. At least 'til Hurk here goes international again. Then, uh, I guess I'm gonna be ride-or-die Miami."

"Hell yeah!" Hurk shouts. "Gonna get the business back in business, y'know what I mean? First stop: check in on mama and Xander. Second stop: top of the world, baby!"

The posse rallies around Hurk's promise with excited whoops. Nick doesn't know what Hurk's job was before the apocalypse, but considering the contraband he used to get his hands on, it's probably something that will only flourish here in the apocalypse.

"'Course, she's probably dead," Hurk adds somewhat morosely at the end, sort of ruining the whole vibe.

Sharky slaps his shoulder a few times out of sympathy. "Don't know 'til we go lookin'," he says, which manages to prop Hurk's mood back up for the time-being. "Anyway, we got a whole slew of islands and mountains and shit to explore once we get established. Spending the rest of my life riding around Montana sounds like a waste of a good apocalypse, if you ask me."

The new guy, Mud, looks more confused than Nick about these future plans. "So, what'd they offer you for joining up?" Nick asks him. "Ten-percent of Boshaw-Drubman LLC?"

Startled, Mud shakes his head frantically. "No way. Uh-uh." Bashfully, he says, "I just, uh... got cold feet. But I don't got much out here, not since the, uh..." He glances past Nick, definitely eyeballing John, then swallows and edges around the truth. "Well, um, Sharky let me ride back, on account of the — well, uh, I didn't wanna get left behind either direction. And since I don't got anything, I offered to join up." He frowns, "Except I don't have a bike, or gas for a bike, or a gun, or bullets for a gun..."

"I told you," Sharky scolds like a mother hen, "We'll figure that shit out later."

"It's smart to stay together," Kim says when Mud fails to pick back up again. "It's what we should all be doing. Does that mean you're staying with them at the trailer park?"

Mud nods, while Tiny goodnaturedly jokes, "Not that there's much left to stay at..."

Sharky is quick to defend their home, even if he doesn't sound super convinced by his own argument. "Hey, we just haven't had time to, y'know, clean and all! We've been busy, man, you know that! Gathering ammo, building the still, brewing ..."

"Would be nice to have a roof over our heads, that's all," Tiny laughs.

"Where do you want me to go, the roof store ?"

The argument is mostly playful, but Nick knows it's only a matter of time before that playful resentment becomes real. Hurk already looks bored by the ribbing, which tells Nick a lot about how long this joke has been running. Even John is paying attention, although Nick only catches an uncomfortable backward glance.

It's a contentious problem for the gang, for sure. But Nick doesn't have to reach far to come up with an easy solution, one that he figures will benefit everybody involved. After all, even considering their own needs, they've got more than enough spare scrap to spare, and Hurk and Sharky's goodwill comes with guns and alcohol, so...

"You know," he says, "John and I found a lot of scrap cleaning this place up. Maybe you can use what we can't."

Sharky opens his mouth to say something, probably pretty rude, but he catches himself before he gets that far. "Wouldn't want to put you out like that," he mutters.

"Hey, we're all in it together, right?" Gesturing towards John, who looks like he'd rather fade back into the dirt around him, Nick offers a sort-of compromise. "We've been trying to figure out what to do with the surplus. This seems like a better use than anything we came up with."

"Well, I guess it couldn't hurt," Sharky admits reluctantly.

Kim recognizes the need for some decisive action, and so she claps her hands together and takes the reins from her grateful husband. "Nick, you and John should take Hurk to look at what we've got. Then, all three of you can bring some wood back so we can get the fire started."

Sharky opens his mouth to object, but Hurk speaks up before he can. "Sounds good!" he exclaims, throwing himself to his feet with ease. Nick can't help but envy him — the guy's got twenty years on him, but Nick doesn't hear his knees popping randomly when he stands up.

"Y'all don't go startin' trouble," he warns his gang, waving Nick on. "Let's do it!"

John turns and heads immediately for the hangar door, disappearing inside without a backwards glance. Hurk lingers once they reach the door, casting a wide look around the empty wash of dirt leading out to the old landing strip before following John inside. He doesn't seem concerned in the slightest that John might be waiting to ambush him.

"Sorry about Sharky, by the way," Hurk says once the three of them are standing in the shade of the tarp overhead. "He's been real stressed is all, tryin' to act all fuckin' responsible and shit. John here making it after the deputy beefed it just hit hard, I guess."

Well, if that's the way Hurk's been referring to it, then no wonder Sharky's sensitive about it. "It's, uh. It's fine. We figured there'd be some... y'know. Reasonable resentment."

John does that thing where he pretends he can't hear he's being talked about, going straight to the log pile stacked against the back wall. Hurk doesn't seem to notice the silent treatment, turning to the organized junk spread out over the cracked concrete. From broken two-by-fours, bent fence-poles, chainlink scraps, and stacks of not-quite-moldy plywood, there's gotta be something here that can help fix up the trailer park. Nick makes sure to highlight the best scrap for Hurk's consideration, although he avoids mentioning their surplus of nails and stripped screws for now. No use showing his whole hand, right?

"Damn," Hurk says at last, looking around in mild astonishment. "Can we hire y'all to do this to our scrap?"

Nick laughs. "Yeah, like I wanna do all this again ."

"What about you?" Hurk asks John's back, ignoring the way he tenses at being directly addressed. "How do we rent you out?"

"You don't," John says, his tone briefly icing over as he turns, regarding them coolly over his armful of logs. He's more petulant than angry when he explains, "I don't owe you my life, so I don't owe you my labor."

"Fine, I'll just save you from a burning building or some shit," Hurk replies, as if he couldn't care less that it's John Seed he's bantering with. "I guess we gotta talk trading, now," he sighs reluctantly. "Man, I fuckin' hate this barter-system bullshit. You know, actually, I got a box full of bottle caps if you wanna..."

Nick waves away the extremely bad offer to invest in an unbacked currency. "Hey, don't worry about it," he says. Hurk frowns heavily at that, so Nick suggests a compromise. "Look, if you and Sharky wind up with your own microbrew, you owe me a case — and yes, I will take payment in installments. That sound fair?"

"If ?" Hurk replies. He lets out a big laugh. "Buddy, I got news for you."

Hurk, John and Nick each take an armful of wood back to the fire pit, where Kim seems to have everything under control. Sharky is less openly hostile when John reappears, anyway, which is a good sign. Mud and Tiny have apparently been given fire-starting duty, jumping to the task as soon as they drop off the wood. Sharky, a true pyromaniac, manages them from his seat by shouting directions at them as they stack the wood in the pit.

Before they can sit back down, Kim turns Nick and John back around for the fish. It's a one-person job, but John doesn't complain about being sent away.

"You okay?" Nick asks John when they reach the freezer.

"Yes," John replies automatically. Nick stares at him for a solid five seconds before he cracks with a frustrated sigh. "I'm just a little overwhelmed. That's reasonable, isn't it?"

"Sure," Nick agrees. He picks up the old bin they've been using to cart fish back from the river. "You can stick around here for a bit if you want. Take a breather."

John scoffs at the idea of taking a break, as per usual. "I thought the point was not to hide," he replies tersely. He reaches out to yank the cracked plastic container from Nick, a frustrated and instinctive reaction that he curbs at the last moment, fingers curling briefly into a fist as he forces himself not to just take things from Nick.

Taking pity on the dumb bastard, Nick pushes the bin into John's arms, flipping open the freezer door and staring down at the slimy, not-yet-smelly fish. "Well, if you need a break, just say you're gonna get more firewood." Nick shrugs. "Someone's gotta check on you eventually, but Kim knows the drill."

John doesn't respond as Nick loads up the bin, but Nick hopes he takes the out to heart. There's not a social obligation out there that Nick hasn't gotten out of by dedicating himself to some dumbass chore nobody else wants to do.

They return to find a roaring fire that is... hopefully under control. The mismatched seating has been pulled back to accommodate the fire's larger-than-average size, accompanied by a couple of chairs from inside to make up the difference. Sharky and Mud have disappeared, although they return just after Nick, each carrying a variety of bottles and jars of different sizes.

"Shit, I didn't think you brought the entire brewery with you!" Nick exclaims, not in the least bit upset by the development.

"Not until you clean all those up," Kim says before Nick can get ahead of himself. "You don't want to be handling a knife right after a shot of... whatever that is."

Nick groans, but she's right. As much as Nick would like to get drunk off his ass on torpedo juice, he has to get his priorities straight. Still — there's a lot more fish than Nick's willing to handle by himself, so he enlists a willing Wallace and Tiny to help out. He picks them mostly because they're openly carrying hunting knives, and because John is just plain bad at deboning fish. John stares at him resentfully, but since he hates handling food as much as he hates gardening, Nick's sure he'll get over it before dinner.

Nick doesn't have much control over the food once it's been cleaned, as Sharky and Hurk have some kind of bet going about who's the better cook and they don't need anybody else throwing their hat in. As far as Nick's concerned, their cooking tastes delicious but indistinguishable. Of course, Nick's waiting for his own dinner, so other than a few bites to try and judge the difference, he doesn't get to eat much of it.

Tiny and Wallace split and down an entire mason jar of mysterious dark liquor while they wait to eat. Nick wants to join them, but Kim's waiting until Carmina is home to start drinking and really, Nick should be doing the same. From the way John's watching distrustfully from the side, he's not likely to get into any moonshine himself.

Nick manages to hold out until after he's finished eating, but then Hurk offers him some moonshine directly and he can't say no. It would be in bad taste, right?

Oof. Turns out the moonshine is in bad taste, but that's what he should expect from something that's easily 120 proof. Nick takes one swig and immediately regrets it as it turns his chapped lips to fire and carries the heat all the way down the back of his throat. There's no taste or anything, just an intense, full-mouth burn and this lizard-brain instinct that everything is going to go horribly wrong if he drinks more of whatever that is.

"Jesus Christ !" he gasps. It's only Hurk's quick reflexes that keep the jar from crashing to the dirt, but Nick doubles down before Hurk can pry it out of his hands. Even as he struggles to form a sentence more complex than, " Poison ," he's got to go back for a second sip. As if somehow a second one would make things better — but of course it doesn't. At least, not to begin with; first, it's gotta turn his shredded lips inside out and throw his tear-ducts into overdrive better than an overripe onion.

"Well don't drink more of it," Kim huffs, way too late.

"Now be honest," Hurk asks, "Can you taste any apple?"

Nick pushes the jar back into Hurk's attentive hands, choking disbelievingly on the word, "Apple ," although now that he thinks about it... No, nope, no after-taste whatsoever. It does , however, warm him from the inside out, leaving him feeling a decent buzz for two conservative swigs.

"Whatever it is," Nick sighs at last, after a big swig of water, "It's great."

"You know," Kim says, "The sooner we put the stew on the fire, the sooner you can eat. Maybe then you could handle more than a couple of baby sips."

Nick clicks his tongue, taking some childish offense at his wife teasing him about his tolerance. At the same time, she's right — and Nick is getting hungry. There's still enough uncooked fish left for when Grace and Carmina get home, but if he wants them to have as much as everyone else, he'll have to settle for the three-day-old stew. At least Kim and John are stuck in the same boat as him.

Before he can get started on that, though, Grace surprises him by returning early with Carmina. Admittedly, it's still pretty late in the afternoon, but he hadn't expected her back so soon. She isn't surprised to find company, which is also a surprise, although she eyes the whole group somewhat distrustfully as she and Carmina round the side of the house. When she sees Hurk and Sharky drinking from their unsanitized brewing bottles, she finally relaxes, letting go of Carmina's shoulder so that she can join the not-necessarily child-safe group.

"Grace!" Sharky exclaims, leaping from his seat and almost grabbing her for a hug before remembering personal boundaries are a thing. "Holy shit, the world literally ended last I saw you!"

Grace returns Sharky's enthusiasm with her more subdued version of it, smiling fondly and following through the rest of the hug for him, the same way she'd grabbed onto Nick and Kim when they'd first come back topside. "Sharky, it's good to see you," she says, her voice deep with emotion.

"I radioed her while you were getting firewood," Kim mentions to Nick as Hurk takes his chance to get a hug from the usually reclusive sniper. "I thought she would appreciate a head's up. And, you know, it cheered Sharky up."

"Hey, good thinking."

Carmina approaches gleefully, carrying the rifle over her shoulder triumphantly. For a nine-year-old, she's pretty natural with the thing, which is a mixed blessing as far as Nick's concerned.

"Aunt Grace made moving targets!" she exclaims, excitement overriding her confusion momentarily until she looks at the group. "I didn't know we were having people over today..."

"It was a happy surprise," Kim tells her. "These are the guys who were helping that caravan heading west, remember?"

"Yeah," Carmina says. She looks immediately to John, who is way too busy staring tensely at Grace and Sharky's reunion to notice her.

"Don't worry," Nick says. "Everything's fine."

"Uh-huh," Carmina says, unconvinced. Thankfully, she doesn't seem too worried about another fight breaking out. That probably has something to do with her attention being focused in an entirely different direction. "Do we have pulleys? I wanna make a shooting range here! It's really easy!"

Nick's gut reaction is to say no, but Kim interrupts him. "Maybe while your dad is getting the stew, he can check," she offers, looking from Carmina to Nick significantly. "Then we can have some dinner and talk about it."

Although it looked like John hadn't been paying any attention before, he stands as soon as Kim mentions going to the hangar. "I remember seeing one," he says.

"You can help me look, then," Nick offers. "Maybe get some more firewood?"

"Yeah," John says absently. Nick barely steps into his line of sight, but that's all he needs, turning and making his way to the hanger down the same invisible path he was glued to before. Nick sighs, rolls his eyes at Kim entirely for show, and follows. Maybe once they get some food in him, John will stop being such a cagey bastard about the whole thing, and they'll be able to actually put things to rest with Grace and Sharky at last.

When the world ended, Nick had figured that meant the end of life as he knew it. In some ways, he'd been right — things will never be as easy, as safe, as peaceful as they used to be — but when his expectations had been wrong, they'd been completely off-base. He'd expected a nuclear wasteland, only to find a lush and thriving field. He'd expected roving gangs of murderers, and instead, he's only encountered desperate, decent people who would rather not waste the bullets. Hell, he'd expected to spend every day struggling to survive, and here he is, sitting in the backyard with a full belly and a shot of liquor to wind down. Sure, the gathering is a primitive knock-off of a barbeque, but Nick knows now that all they need is time and practice. Maybe someday, they'll even have a grill — burgers, corn on the cob, the whole works.

But hey. That's for the future, and right now, Nick isn't going to complain about some bad liquor, mediocre food and Hurk's stripped-down Slayer's cassette blaring from his beat-up stereo.

Carmina finally gets a chance to show off her skills to people other than her family, and so Hurk's boys take turns calling out targets for her to cap in an attempt to take her down a peg. Nick isn't sober enough to trust his daughter with a gun, but Kim hasn't gone back for another taste of "apple" moonshine yet, and Grace is sober as a rock, so they're more than capable of handling things. Mostly, they nix any particularly dangerous targets, keeping Carmina's shots focused out in the yard. Well, for the most part — neither of them can resist watching Carmina shoot the wind-vane still clinging to the roof, even if it means going right over everyone's heads.

It's all in good fun, of course. And, to their credit, not one of the guys even jokingly suggests taking aim at John as he sits apart from the group. It's a good thing, too — John looks uncomfortable at how good a shot Carmina is. Maybe Nick would be uncomfortable with it too, if he hadn't drunk a bottle-neck's worth of moonshine beforehand.

Nick doesn't have to drink a lot to feel downright tipsy, which is great. Back in the day, he used to like getting buzzed every so often, but he'd given up ever feeling safe enough to get inebriated as another lost memory from yesteryear. This... this is nice. And once the guns get put away, it'll be even nicer.

"I think you might be a better shot than Tipsy over here," Wallace tells Carmina, gesturing towards Tiny, who is indeed too tipsy to be a decent shot at all.

"Only one way to find out!" Tiny shouts, failing to move after his declaration.

"Maybe another time," Kim replies uncertainly. "When alcohol isn't involved?"

"Hey, Carmina," Hurk coos, pulling his battered gun into his lap, "This is a Kalashnikov, you ever shoot off one of these?"

"Ooh, no!"

Grace is much less diplomatic than Kim, cutting him off before he can feed Carmina's excitement any more. "Hurk!"

"What? Oh, uh... she's probably too young for an automatic, huh? What is she, nine? I got a Magnum in my saddlebag..."

It's not long after that they run out of targets, forcing an end to Carmina's demonstration of skill. Kim thankfully takes the gun so that nobody gets hurt, and Carmina spends the next twenty minutes peppering the crew with questions about their guns, their tattoos, their trip out with the caravan, and whether or not they have a moving target range like Grace does. Nick relaxes when he realizes that none of the guys are keen on giving a little girl another weapon, more interested in spinning drunken tall-tales that, truthfully, might be a little too PG for Carmina. At least Grace is listening in to fact-check any of their more problematic bullshit.

John isn't any less tense now that Carmina is disarmed, but Nick's not surprised. Sitting on the opposite side of the fire from everybody else, he might as well be hiding in plain sight. That goes against the entire point, but it's also his modus operandi these days. Normally, Nick would just ignore it, maybe even avoid John on purpose to show him how bad it feels, but tonight calls for a more direct approach.

"Need to get some firewood?" Nick asks him, coming to stand in his line of sight.

John squints up at him around the firelight. "No," he mutters, lying through his teeth before changing the subject. "Carmina has good aim."

"That's all Kim's genes. I'm more of a spray-and-pray kinda guy."

John doesn't quite hide his sarcasm, replying, "You don't say."

Nobody's offered John any liquor yet, he's pretty sure, so Nick holds the bottle out in an easily declined gesture. "Wanna try?" he asks, just in case he's being more subtle than he thinks. "Supposed to take like apples."

John gives the bottle an unimpressed once-over. "I don't think so," he decides, not sounding entirely sure about it. He adds defensively, "My tolerance is shot."

"If you say so," Nick replies, pulling the bottle back. "It's not like I'm gonna peer pressure you. This isn't high school. But, uh, try to relax. If anyone was gonna take a shot at you, they would've done it by now."

"Easy for you to say," John sighs.

It is easy for Nick to say, but he hopes John actually listens to him for once. He's not expecting miracles or anything, but if John's going to stick around, he's going to have to learn how to relax. Well — at least that's one learning curve that everybody is struggling with. Baby steps, right?

Nick leaves John alone for now; maybe he'll warm up into the idea of mending some metaphorical fences before everyone leaves, which would be ideal. For now, Nick goes back to the rest of the group, taking a few more sips as he listens to Carmina start to spin her own tall tales. Now that she's recognized the pattern in all of the stories the adults have been telling — larger-than-life enemies, intimidating names, lots of Foley work — she's attempting to match their vivid stories with a highly interpretive retelling about the turkey she saved her mom from a few months ago. The way she tells it, Nick would've expected the turkey she'd brought back to be at least the size of a car, but if Kim is playing into her part as a damsel in distress, Nick isn't going to ruin things by being the cynic realist.

They trade a few more stories. As they do, Kim takes a few extremely sour drinks of whatever the dark stuff is. She's been on hosting duty all day already, and Nick hasn't done much to help, getting tipsy right away with the rest of the guys like he had. But, with things starting to get late for a family of three, Nick decides it's his time to step up to the task of parenting.

Carmina hasn't had enough life experience to have many stories to share with the encouraging group of drunken manchildren, so once the attention turns to Tiny's story of his first swim after the world ended, Nick uses the out as a chance to usher her away.

"I think we oughta get you ready for bed," he tells Carmina, who boos under her breath but doesn't put up a fight, mostly because the story involves lots of nudity that she isn't at all interested in hearing about. Nick can't blame her — he doesn't wanna hear about Tiny almost getting his nuts bit off by a demon fish, either.

"Okay, but I want a good bed-time story," she demands, reasonably enough. Nick doesn't have anything as funny as Hurk's story, or anything as action-packed as Sharky's retelling of the first roadblock they encountered out on the road, but he has to at least try.

The good thing about Carmina not knowing anything about life before is that Nick can stretch some truths without repercussion. So when he tucks Carmina in, he decides to tell her the story of when she was born — this time, though, he doesn't leave out the roadblocks, or the deputy's shitty driving, or the narrowly-missed explosions. Couched in a long line of tall tales and exaggerated stories, Carmina doesn't believe most of the true stuff and only playfully believes in the bullshit.

Between Nick's bedtime-story voice and him gently stroking her hair, it's a wonder Carmina stays awake for as long as she does. Eventually, though, well before he finishes the story, she closes her eyes and finally stops resisting the chance for a good night's sleep. Nick stays put, lying next to her for a few minutes as he listens to the faint sound of conversation outside. He tries to make out the voices, to decipher who might be talking to who, but he only hears a dull hum.

He'll get up in a few minutes, go down and have a real drink with his wife for the first time in nine years, but the alcohol he's already had entices him to lie still just a little longer.

He doesn't know how long he dozes for, but when Nick is next aware of his surroundings, the light has changed in the room from the rising moon and the conversation outside has shifted in tone and pitch, the way any party might as it enters the late-night phase. Sitting up, Nick immediately knows he needs two things — more water, and one or two more swigs of that awful moonshine, just to keep the hangover from starting before he actually goes to bed.

The back porch is still wide open. The fire has died down, although it's still enough light to see by as Nick reappears. Kim sees him immediately, lifting a half-empty jar of dark liquid in his direction and waving him down with her free hand.

"This one is much better," she tells him as he approaches, holding out the jar. Well, Nick isn't about to reject his wife's kind offer, although he immediately regrets it when he takes a swig.

" Ugh ," he chokes around the harsh burn, feeling it drain all the way back into his throat. "That tastes like paint thinner!"

"Trade secret!" Hurk exclaims, adding immediately after, "Not that there's any paint or thinner in there, or anythin'. Nope. It's 100% organic malt liquor!"

Nick has no idea how Hurk would manage to find barley, but sure, he'll buy it. Another sip doesn't do any better, and to his surprise, he realizes that he actually prefers the moonshine.

As he hands the jar back, Nick does a quick head-count, coming up two short. "Uh, where's John?" he asks.

"Oh," Kim says. She points towards the hangar. "We needed firewood," she says. "Except, eventually, we really needed firewood. I sent Sharky to get some." It seems like only when she says it does she realize what a bad idea it is. "Well, we were in the middle of something, and I was distracted," she explains reluctantly.

"I wasn't," Grace utters next to her.

Kim rolls her eyes. "You should go check on them. I mean, it's fine. But maybe you should, anyway."

Nick looks over at the hangar. There aren't any lights to speak of out here, but Nick can see the glow of the lantern through the open doorway, shadows moving around behind the worn-out wall. "Yeah," he agrees, turning and heading across the wash. He only thinks of grabbing a drink for the journey after he starts walking, but he's already halfway there and he doesn't have time to turn around and come back.

Sharky appears in the doorway, forcing Nick to pull up short to avoid running into him. He looks — fine? There's too much beard and too little light to see his expression clearly, but Sharky doesn't seem phased in the least to find Nick in his way. He passes by Nick with a few logs under one arm, patting Nick heavily on his shoulder with his free hand.

"It's cool, bro," he says, "We're all good."

"Uh... okay," Nick replies, deeply unsure as Sharky casually heads back for the fire. Briefly worrying that he might find John knocked out on the ground, Nick tries not to stress out as he heads inside.

John is sitting on a discarded chopping block by the woodpile, the lantern settled by his feet. Nick doesn't see any blood or a new black eye; just John, rolling a nearly-empty glass bottle between his palms as he drifts in thought.

Nick almost feels bad interrupting, but John catches sight of him before he can retreat undetected. He looks surprised — genuinely, openly surprised to see Nick standing there, sincerely confused when he says, "I thought you went to bed."

"And miss out on all the action?" Nick chuckles. He gestures at the bottle. "So much for your tolerance being shot, huh?" he teases.

"Oh, hmm?" John looks down at the bottle like he'd forgotten about it. "Only enough to get them off my back." He sighs, following it up with a swig that he barely winces through. "After all, saying no ain't my thing ." Nick isn't sure if that drawl is for sarcastic quotation purposes, or if John's had enough moonshine to play at being white trash. "Then again, I only quit drinking because of Joseph. No point resisting now."

"I guess," Nick agrees reluctantly. "Is that, uh, what you and Sharky were talking about?"

John rolls his eyes. "No," he says. He holds out the bottle, waiting until Nick takes it to elaborate. "Kim suggested they sleep out here tonight. He was making sure there's room."

"Oh." Nick takes a drink; maybe it's just the malt liquor talking, but now Nick can sort of taste the apple around the burn. He takes one more swig, just to make sure, then hands the bottle back. "Well, as long as he wasn't hassling you."

"No more than I deserve," John says. Nick must make some kind of face, because he sighs and placating adds, "It's fine, Nick. I'm more than capable of handling a few sarcastic comments from some hillbilly outlaw." He looks down, tipping the bottle a bit to swirl the moonshine inside.

"He... means well," he says eventually. "Everyone means well."

"You don't have to sound so bummed out about it."

John chuckles. It's the first time Nick's heard his laugh and not mistaken it for a cough or wheeze. "I don't mean to be," he says. He takes a drink and looks up at Nick with a... weird look on his face. Open. Genuine? Nick's not sure. But despite the topic, John's expression radiates a deep, contemplative peace. "It's more generosity than I can bear from people I genuinely thought of as the enemy."

He is definitely drunk. "Oh, boy," Nick sighs, reaching out for the bottle before John drops it or finishes it off himself. "To be fair, uh, it's easier to be nice to you since we won, and all."

"Oh, I do not doubt it." John relinquishes the drink, seemingly aware enough to admit, "I've had more than enough."

"I think everybody's had enough," Nick says, proving his own point by immediately regretting his next swig. "God damn . Okay, well — we should probably get some wood. I gotta feeling those guys are gonna be up for a while, and we wanna keep them happy."

John nods, but he doesn't rise from his spot. "Wait," he says when Nick goes to pass him, so Nick obligingly stops, raising an eyebrow at John's half-lifted hand.

"You have to understand," he says. "I'm not — I don't know how I'm supposed to express my gratitude towards you. With Joseph, with — well, everyone , I've always known how to express my loyalty. I knew what they expected from me, what would make them happy, what... wouldn't. But with you, with Kim... I don't know anything. I feel like a child. I don't know how that makes me feel, other than like an idiot."

He heaves a frustrated, heavy sigh, ducking his head towards his nervously entwined hands. "Just — thank you," he finishes miserably.

"Wow," Nick utters in response. He doesn't know what else to say, really, except the obvious, but he genuinely means it when he replies, "Well, you're welcome. Man, and here I always figured you were playing me for a sap."

John laughs, shaking his head. "Manipulation has never been my strong suit," he admits. "I'm too heavy-handed for that crap. Intimidation and brute force, on the other hand..." He lets out a relieved sigh. "Thank God I was too sick to revel in my self-destruction."

"Yeah, I'm glad I didn't have to shoot you," Nick chuckles. "Sorta would've gone against everything I'm trying to build, you know?"

"I do now," John says. "I only wish I'd realized it before the end of the world."

"Hey, the world hasn't really ended," Nick points out. "There's still a whole left to do." He gestures towards the woodpile. "We can start by making sure Kim doesn't leave me for the raiders giving her free alcohol."

John stands, shaking his head as if he could clear the smile from his face. "I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, not until they figure out how to brew a decent beer. Kim was going without for the baby. She probably would've murdered me if it meant she could've had a case of Newcastle in the bunker for a few months there."

Then again, she had also been freaking out about the nuclear apocalypse occurring above-ground, so Nick really should cut her more slack.

"You definitely have nothing to worry about," John reiterates. "But fine. No more back-talk."

"Yeah, fat chance of that. C'mon, give me a hand."

Nick leaves the bottle on the chopping block and utilizes John's uncanny strength, loading him up with an armful of wood before taking a few logs for himself, to give the appearance of helping. John doesn't complain, which isn't unusual by itself, but tonight it feels like genuine complacency, not just something he's doing to survive. And when they return to the fire, dropping off the wood for Mud and Tiny to utilize, John doesn't retreat to the safety of the other side of the fire. He instead lingers by Nick, going so far as to play along whenever Kim asks him questions, just to make him feel included. He, unlike Nick, is smart enough to refuse any more of the malt liquor Kim's taken a liking to, but he holds the jar for show from time to time, just to keep Hurk happy. In a weird way, Nick feels like he can actually see John taking those wobbly steps Kim is always hoping to see, and even weirder than that, the anxiety that maybe he's making a mistake fails to manifest, leaving Nick with a warm, fuzzy feeling that could very well be pride.

Prognosis

Chapter 5: Blisters

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Law x Luffy

Characters: Roronoa Zoro, Nami, Monkey D. Luffy, Trafalgar D. Water Law, Usopp, Donquixote Doflamingo (mentioned), Donquixote Rocinante (mentioned, Dr. Kureha (mentioned), Sanji (mentioned)

Warnings: References to Depression, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Dependency

My part for the @lawlu-events BigBang 2018/19

The story got illustrated by the awesome artist @novicecomics

“Oi, Nami.” Luffy had noticed the way Nami’s posture and way of walking had changed a while ago. Why was she limping, did she hurt herself? He would have noticed her twisting her ankle or her tripping, it must be something different then.

He walked beside her, grinning as she looked at him in a questioning way. The way Luffy gazed at her and then at her heels. Something was up.

“Why did you buy these shoes if you cannot walk in them?” She was wearing light-brown sandals with high heels. It could not be comfortable walking in them. Luffy was confused why so many women (and some men) were wearing these kinds of shoes. They looked more like a device made to hurt someone and not like proper shoes!

“Luffy!” Nami did not appreciate the question, she looked angry at first and then huffed in annoyance. By now everyone in their friends-group was used to Luffy’s weird questions and tics. Often it seemed like he did not understand a lot of things, but Nami somehow felt, as if he most of the time knew more than it seemed.

“What? Did you just buy them, because you like the colour? Or do you think they’ll fit better after a while?” Not that Luffy knew much about shoes. He has had the same pair of sandals since a few years. He only buys new ones, when his old ones were too loose and broken beyond repair. Luffy never had cared much for clothes. Something looked cool, he bought it and wore it till he needed something new. The world was far too exciting to bother with something simple and unimportant like clothes!

“Yes, I like the colour. And hmpf” She would not explain to Luffy, that these shoes emphasized her female curves! Pushing her chest and lower back slightly forward. Making her bosom and behind seem bigger, more appealing.

“But I think I got a blister from them.” She sighed heavily. She did not want to stop wearing them, but then again, blisters would make walking more difficult. Walking had started to hurt a while ago and it would not get better...

“Mh, when we are back on the cruiser, we can go to the doctor there! Torao is really nice!” “Torao?” “Yeah, the doctor! The one I went to with Zorro and Usopp!” There was a big grin on his face. “Oh right, I remember.” Nami thought about it for a moment. The good-looking doctor in fine clothes, who would ensure that she could continue wearing her sandals?

“Yes, I will go there.” Even though it was weird, that Luffy was suggesting visiting a doctor for something simple like a blister. Seems like Luffy was really interested in that person. Luffy nodded. He was excited to meet Torao again. Maybe today the other one would join them for barbeque! It would surely help the doctor with the darkness occupying his mind!

  They had spent the rest of the noon going to different shops, interacting with the locals and relaxing a bit in one of the Cafes close to the shore.

When it was almost evening Nami sighed, feeling numbness instead of pain in her feet by now. “I think we should head back and I really need to give that Doctor a visit!” She said with a big grin. It was nice to see Luffy being so eager about something or someone. This time it was at least nothing dangerous!

It was almost as expected. Travel sick people and sunburned people had been a continuous occurrence on this ship. There were less people with blisters though. Apparently not everyone wanted to wander around a lot. No surprise considering the immense summer heat at the moment. Only one elder couple had visited him for some blistering plasters.

When he heard a rather familiar knock on his door he flinched. Not again. By now the dark-haired boy had visited him twice. One time with his weird long-nosed friend and a second time with some green-haired dude who had the worst sunburn Law ever had witnessed. Both times it had been rather chaotic.

The patients had not been a problem. The only problematic person so far had been Luffy. By now, he knew the name of the Strawhat. Quite a few people on the cruiser knew him after a few days.

Luffy was like a crazy whirlwind. In his office he had looked around, taken some of the medical stuff, questioning about the usage, questioning Law personal stuff. He should stay away. Safer. Isolation.

The first meeting with Luffy had been annoying, one of the most annoying patients/supports he had the pleasure of meeting in a while. Law had endured it, like he always did. His hope had been, that he would not have to see the other one again. He was wrong though.

On the second day Luffy’s questions had been even more personal. What was up with the boy. Did he not know about personal space? Apparently not. The worst part was... as dumb as Law first expected the boy to be, his empathy and emotional intelligence was incredibly high. The questions had been on point, making Law uncomfortable and uneasy. The threatening undertone was missing though. Tongue keen as a razor. Eyes hidden. Prodding. Questioning. Tormenting. Did he reveal so much of himself on the first day? He was kind of nervous what the boy would do today. Would he question him again?!

Of course, he could always send him away, but then again… he did not come alone, he always came with a patient, one of his friends. It felt, as if Luffy knew, that approaching him alone would make Law push him away.

The second knock on the door was louder. Slowly Law headed towards the door, open it in a reluctant manner.

“Torao! How are you!? Nami has worn the wrong shoes for wandering! Did you sleep? No, you did not! Why don’t you sleep? Ask Zorro! He is good at sleeping!”

Nami just shook her head. Poor doctor. “Come in.” Law sighed before closing the door after the two.

“Luffy, will you wait outside? Let me talk to the doctor?” It would make things less awkward for either the doctor, as well as for Nami. The way the doctor reacted to Luffy showed, how uneasy he was. Luffy refused though. He had a big grin on his face, as he sat down on the free chair.

“Eh? I wanna talk to Torao!” Luffy laughed amused. As if he would go outside! By now Nami should know, that he had a mind on his own!

But on contrary to his words, he watched in silence, as Law checked Nami’s hurting foot. “Nothing is twisted or broken, those shoes are way too tight. They are restricting the blood flow in your toes. They are rubbing your skin raw as well, the reason for your blisters. I will give you some lotion. I will apply it for now, make sure to either wear comfortable shoes or, even better, to be barefoot. Put the ointment on, whenever you start to feel the burning sensation again.”

Long, tender fingers were massaging the lotion onto the raw skin. Nami sighed heavy, as she felt the burning pain fade away.

“Your fingers are skilled” She tried to flirt with the doctor, but Law ignored her. Not only was the doctor pushing away Luffy, but also her! Weird person.

“Luffy, are you coming?” Nami asked, after getting up from the cot. The throbbing in her foot was way better now.  

“No! I join you guys later! I wanna chat some more with Torao!” The grin on Luffy’s face did not fade, he simple ignored the way Law looked at him in a shocked way.

“Are you sure?” “Yup!” Nami sighed and smiled at Law. Well, she had tried. She could only hope, that soon Luffy would think about the evening buffet and then losing interest in spending more time with the doctor. “What do you want from me?” Law asked, after Nami had closed the door. He sighed heavily and sat down in the chair behind the desk.

He took the now empty coffee cup in his hands, turning the coffee machine on. He definitely needed coffee after dealing with the brat again. It also felt safer to have something in his hands, something to occupy at least part of him.

“What I want? Silly question! What do you want? Why are you not happy? For someone being able to save so many lives you seem in a rather dark mood!”

“I do not know what you are talking about. Everyone is in a bad mood from time to time.” Slowly Law raised one eyebrow. How did Luffy get these ideas? He could not simply look through his masquerade, could he?

“From time to time? Yeah, but you are not!” The grin did not falter, it was still cheering, still warm. Usually Law would feel threatened by a big grin. Especially while talking about uncomfortable topics.

Big grin, white teeth, revealed gum, sunglasses. These things would trigger not happy memories for the doctor. Isolation. Self-worth. Sacrifice. Shady deals. Things he should not know...

Luffy’s grin was quite the opposite. Warm and nice. Gentle in a way. And yet powerful enough to make others join him in his happy mood.

“Everyone here is happy! Isn’t this your holiday too? It is awesome seeing so many different islands, eating so much food and being able to talk with all these people! Come on! Enjoy it! Tomorrow you go with us! I will show you, how to have fun!!!!”

“I have to work.”

“You are not the only doctor here! There are two others and I am sure you can get one free day!”

If Luffy knew, that there were other doctors on board, why did he always come to him with his friends? Especially with... all of his friends. Yesterday they even had to wait, till the other patient had been outside. And still … Luffy had decided to bring his friend to him and not to the other doctors.

“I am excited for tomorrow! Just think about all the delicious meat we can eat!”

Law glared at the other one. “I did not say yes.” “You do not need to! I know, that you want to!”

Again, there was this laugh of the boy. It was a cheerful sound, kind of quirky and it had a special ring to it. It was no threatening Fufufufu that let one’s blood freeze into the veins.

It was a Shishishi sound, that let Laws lips twitch a bit. His body wanting to follow the smile, but he could not, at least not yet.

recap of last night’s session!

The next leg of our journey is hit with a delay when our darling Virhea goes missing.  So instead of having me meander through the woods looking for her,  Elathera and Industria decide to scry on her.  Instead of some peaceful image of her working through her trauma in a healthy way like punch dancing out in the forest,  we get treated to the sight of a man who is very obviously dead.  His back is cut open and his ribcage is cracked.  His lungs are spread out on the rock he's laying on and Virhea's cleaning her hands of his blood.  The dude basically looks like a German torture porn filmmakers take on the phrase "spread out like a buffet".

We all experience a plethora of emotions in this moment.  Disgust being the most prominent and as the rest of the party is discussing why this is happening and what the hell we can do about it,  I step out of the carriage to go puke in the woods.  How convenient that that man's brother is out looking for him and stumbles upon me!  I tell him I'll find his brother and send him home and eventually I sneak up on Virhea who's busy burying the body.  I ask why she did it and the man was in the mob that killed her,  so while I think it's beyond brutal,  I understand and when we get back to the others,  I cover for her.  Cuz that's what friends do.

Except pro tip for real life,  kids.  If your friend goes and blood eagles somebody,  you should probably alert the authorities.

Anyways,  Industria buys my lie of Virhea acting in self-defense because she was attacked because of course she doesn't wanna believe her sister's out there doing shit like that willy nilly.  Everybody else is suspicious,  but doesn't question it for the moment.  As me and Rikius take our seats at the front of the carriage,  he asks for the truth of it and I crack because I can't lie to my boyfriend.  Things inside the carriage are awkward for Elathera and Lucky because they know something more is up,  but who's gonna be the dick and accuse her of outright murdering someone in cold blood?  No one.  That's who.

Eventually our carriage ride takes us to a pocket of the world where civilization is practically non-existent.  It's plains and plateaus as far as the eye can see,  so we stop and make camp for the night.  Our camping spot has signs of life from the past and that worries me,  so I decide to go look around and Virhea and Lucky join me.  The spot's safe for camping,  thankfully,  and we all watch a cougar chow down on some wild cattle before I'm struck with a stupid idea.  I wanna tame the cougar.  Lucky and Virhea ask if I've ever done it before and of course not.  So what better time to try it than now?  I approach the cougar and after some coaxing and calming it down,  I get to pet it.  I go in for a hug and it darts away,  but I coax it back out for more pets.

I seriously contemplate taking it as a pet,  but decide not to and we head back to camp.  But the cougar has taken a liking to me and follows us back casually.  No one's immediately concerned until Rikius questions it.  Virhea says I have a new companion and I have already named my new son.  Nugget.  Industria goes to pet my dear Nugget,  but startles him so he bites her.  Cue the Great Cougar Debate that had us all torn.  Virhea actively encourages me to keep Nugget and train him,  but Rikius and Industria are against this because it's a wild animal and that's a no-no.  Eventually a consensus is reached after Industria reminds me it could be dangerous to bring around my sisters and Rikius brings up that it's also dangerous to be bringing around our daughter and I have to be a responsible mother.

Virhea shoos Nugget from our summoned cabin thanks to Elathera and we turn in for the night.  Or I would've if my room wasn't empty and devoid of my man.  After a conversation with Elathera about Virhea's issues,  I look for him,  but instead I find Virhea doing ballet outside by the firelight.  I decide to join her and she gives me a free dancing lesson.  She fixes my posture (gay) and we pirouette the night away while Industria practices swordfighting with Ilyana,  Lucky watching on.  Elathera is lonely and summons herself a bunny to sleep with and eventually I turn in for the night too.  Rikius was hiding out and keeping an eye on Virhea because hey,  she murdered somebody recently and witnessed the dance lesson.

The next leg of our journey to a sacred river ends with us reaching the river,  but not the shrine we're looking for.  Elathera conjures up a big ass boat and an unseen crew and we get to pretend we're sailing the open seas for awhile.  Except Virhea who hates every minute of this and hides out in the cabin.  After some fishing and enjoying the breeze,  it's time to sleep on the boat because nothing could ever go wrong.  I perch myself in the crow's nest and there's a sound of very loud,  rushing water and Industria hears it too.  She realizes it's a waterfall,  so she tells Elathera to hook up the boat with some magic gliders so we don't die.  Gliders are made,  Elathera holes up in the captain's quarters.  Industria grabs her child and flies because she ain't risking shit.

She casts a fly spell on Virhea,  who flies up to the crow's nest and tells me to hang onto her in case the shit hits the fan.  And Lucky and Rikius prepare themselves with fly spells too.  The boat goes over the waterfall.  We hold our breaths.  And then down it goes as the gliders couldn't carry the weight of our sins.  Luckily we're all safe!  But hey,  where's Elathera?  She went down with the boat and got trapped underwater,  getting battered by rocks as the river current down there pulls her away.  But luckily Industria saves her,  but not before getting tossed around herself.  They emerge on shore with the rest of us and as we take in the scenery,  an aarakocra man approaches to basically ask us what the fuck's going on.

Industria explains that we're here to return some artifacts to the shrine.  The purple pendant we found in the dragon's lair belongs to these people,  but we forgot who was carrying it.  I make a pretty big slip-up when I say I didn't take that one and instantly,  Industria enters Mom Mode to question me.  Industria tells me she's going to ground me and eventually talks me into handing it over the holy diamond I stole and I'm scolded hard.  Elathera doesn't admit to her part in it,  so I kindly do it for her.  Industria then yells at me for trying to drag Elathera down to my level and I am Crushed.  Because Elathera didn't stand up for me,  we experience our first fight and greed totally nearly tears us apart.

Eventually the party splits,  leaving me,  Elathera,  and Lucky alone.  They suggest we go and steal more stuff and Elathera's all for it,  but I'm still upset,  so I storm off and throw myself into a bush because mom grounded me.  Lucky followed after and finds it weird that I'm handling this by hiding in a bush,  but they join me anyways and comfort me by reminding me that they're my ancestor,  so that means they can unground me.  Virhea had stalked the bird man who had the artifacts and steals the diamond back.  She finds me and gifts it to me and I can't resist the gem's charm for long and stuff it back in my bag of holding.

Then it's time for another dancing lesson and as we waltz around,  just gals being girls and all that,  Industria and Rikius catch up with us.  As we all dance away,  Industria plays some hot jams on her lyre and it's all great until she mentions finding Elathera.  I don't want to see that traitor ever again and when I say this,  Industria is upset because she doesn't want us fighting.  I'm sat down for another Mom Talk in which she tells me she knows it's hard to let old ways go,  but I need to be a better person.  I came out to have a good time and I feel attacked,  so I say that they're trying to make me the bad guy here and now I'm gonna run away.  Industria urges me not to,  but says she'll find me if I do,  so I start walking away.

Rikius is now concerned and tells me not to,  so I stop.  Long enough for Industria to glomp me (yes,  those were Erick's words.  2006 called him and he couldn't resist),  but I dodge it because I'm having a mood right now.  She hits the ground hard and Virhea busts out laughing while Rikius helps her up.  I made the situation worse and when I realize I was being an asshole,  I relent and we hug and make up.  We find Elathera fishing at the river after she repaired our carriage that we totally didn't forget about.  Arnor is spooked as shit after what transpired and when Virhea goes to soothe his nerves,  he kicks her,  sending her flying back and hitting the ground with some broken ribs.  Maybe if she didn't kill that man in the village this wouldn't have happened.  I don't wanna say it's karma,  but it's karma.

With tensions still high between me and Elathera,  the aasimar sisters decide to separate us for a bit.  Industria takes me out to find food for the party,  and Virhea takes Elathera out to gift her with a beautiful staff that's a replica of her grandfather's staff.  You know,  the big,  black rod she had to crack (ooh bby) to get us to Heaven for the first time.  While Elathera is wary of Virhea,  she lights up at this and is pleasantly surprised that she actually got a gift and wasn't being dragged outside to be murdered.  We all have dinner as a family and then everybody parts again,  leaving me and Elathera alone.  She tries to leave,  but I ask why we're letting this diamond tear us apart.  She doesn't know.  We have a nice heart-to-heart and mend our friendship that was absolutely on the rocks,  except not really because we care about each other,  and decide to go out exploring for the night.

If you have been reading these posts since the beginning,  then you know very well by now that having me and Elathera run off together is a terrible idea.  We're the Dream Team...if your dream involves everything turning into a disaster.  Haha,  we're a catastrophe.  So we're walking along the dewy grass outside the village we were taken to earlier until we come to the river.  Across the river and through the mist,  we can make out lights and ominous chanting.  We're thinking there's some creepy shit afoot until we realize it's just the tribals doing their religious ceremony.  Not wanting to disturb them,  we go a different way and I spot an abandoned structure in the distance.  We wonder if there's anything inside,  so we go to check it out.

It looks like a wizard once lived here and Elathera's special eyes see the place is teeming with magical energy.  We think for a second that we hit the jackpot until I try the door and realize it's an illusion.  I tell her and she dispels it and there's...nothing there.  I look around.  Nothing out of the ordinary now,  so Elathera steps to where the house used to be and is attacked by a moonbeast.  These things are really gross,  Lovecraftian bullshit and apparently they're intelligent and slavers.  We did it,  guys.  We discovered a trap and still walked into it anyways.  Dream Team making it happen over here.  Virhea and Rikius are concerned with how long we've been gone,  so they set out to find us.  As we're battling our potential doom,  I hit Industria up on the transcendental bond to tell mom that we're in trouble.  She was asleep and is not happy,  but she alerts everybody else.

Unfortunately,  because we're being attacked,  I didn't give too many details so all Virhea and Rikius had to work with was "Kina" and "tentacles".  Now everyone's fearing that my ass has walked onto a hentai set.  Luckily we manage to fell the beast and I get to ring up mom and let her know everything's all good.  We loot the body and find some stuff of value and me and Elathera are truly buddies once more as we decide to split the gold once we get a chance to sell the shit.  We catch up with Virhea and Rikius and they ask us what happened. I tell them we walked right into a trap and Rikius says that's about right.  They inspect the beast and Virhea shoves her fist down its throat (ooh bby again) to see its diet.  They scold us and say we're not allowed to adventure alone anymore,  but I say we saved the day and Elathera's jazzed about our victory too,  so we high-five.  We totally planned taking out that foul beast,  but they don't buy our bullshit.

So I change it.  We preemptively saved the day from the thing that wasn't an issue for the tribe yet and go to high-five my buddy cop again,  but Elathera isn't feeling it anymore and her high-five game is weak.  Virhea mentions that we were invited to the religious ceremony,  so we ring up the whole crew to go watch.  It's a beautiful display as the tribe has gems that radiate light back to the sky as they reflect the moonlight.  They pray over these gems and it's all one big new years celebration for them as once a year,  our earth is treated to the sight of a second moon.  After,  we're invited back to town for the fair.  There's food and trinket stalls all about and aarakocra performing tricks on land and in the air.

Me and Virhea get a little too wasted,  leaving everybody else to watch over us.  I tell everyone I got something cool to show them and begin climbing a tree.  Rikius is already concerned and tries to grab me,  but I'm a slippery gal and carry on.  My plan is to do a backflip right off the tree and concern and worry plague the party,  except for Virhea who cheers me on.  Elathera conjures up a big ol' cushion to break my fall,  so I do my backflip,  get launched off the cushion,  and land on my ass.  Virhea claps and I tell her I can do a cartwheel off a tree too,  but everyone shoots my plan down.  Whatever.  I can do it on the ground too,  so fuck ya'll.

I cartwheel and somehow fuck it up pretty bad and sprain my wrist.  Despite Industria saying she wouldn't heal me,  she heals me anyways and is exasperated with our drunken bullshit as Virhea does a cartwheel too.  We get up and go to high-five and miss.  We do it again.  Miss.  We're both worried now that we're not real.  Nobody's real.  We panic.  I wrap my arms around Rikius.  He's real.  Virhea runs a hand down Industria's face.  She's real...and uncomfortable.  We double team Elathera (ooh fucking bby),  but she casts something and disappears.  Obviously she's not real so we panic.  It's then Industria suggests we turn in for the night,  but I wanna party.

The party is not done until I say it's done...or until Rikius tells me "no".  Which he does.  But Virhea gets us some drinks anyways and then Elathera teleports us back to the cabin.  I'm startled and drop my drink before we go,  but Virhea's a bro and hands me hers.  Rikius takes it,  so she asks for it back.  He gives it back to her.  She hands it back to me and he stops her yet again.  I'm not gonna let him ruin my fun,  so I go climb the stairs to do another sick ass backflip that could potentially kill me,  but he stops me.  Virhea suggests we take our party outside to the fireside and I go to leave,  but he grabs and hauls my ass off to the bedroom.

Lucky is tasked with watching over my bro and we all wake up,  managing to shake off the drink.  Except for me.

Goggles covered chocolate brown eyes, leaving him to push the curly strands of his hair manually. He bit his tongue in concentration, refusing to take his eyes off his masterpiece for a millisecond. This was for her, he reminded himself. It was all for her. It was decently quiet in the mechanic garage, with only the sounds of sparks and his own heavy breathing to accompany him. Shelves were stuffed to the brim with every kind of wire, bolt, and tool known on the face of the planet. Failed experimental equations were strewn across sheets of paper, scattered on the ground. The terminal door was shut, with only the lights of candlesticks and oil lamps to illuminate the damp, drafty, dark place he called home. Car tires dotted the walls like medallions, with degrees of engineering genius framed and shown proudly alongside them. At his desk, photos were on display: a golden retriever with a red rubber ball squeezed in its open mouth; a woman with dark brown hair and freckles with an arm around a little boy, around six or so, beaming up at the camera; a beautiful lady with long auburn hair and bright green eyes was draped across the mechanic himself, both of them relaxed and happy. Charlie tore himself away from that train of thought—the life he’d once had was over. He had to get over that. He continued working on his newly dubbed “life-altering time trial”, when a phone rang. He sighed, placing down the object, shoved back his goggles, and wondered who the Hell would call him at 3 o’clock in the morning. Checking the ID, he was not surprised in the slightest. Irritated, he answered the call, knowing she would simply spam him until he responded. “What do you want, Piper?” he asked straightaway, knowing she could hear the ‘if it’s not important, I’ll kill you’ tone of his voice. “Now, now,” Piper said, amusement coloring her manner. “Don’t get so feisty, little brother. I might call your Alexandria on you.” He shut his eyes, sighing. “We broke up, Piper. I told you that.” “But you’re still as bloody head over heels as always for her, aren’t you?” His silence was enough to gain her satisfaction. “Exactly. C’mon. Be nice to your big sister who loves you!” “Why are you calling me at three a.m., Piper?” “Because.” Mentally, he slowly counted to ten. He glanced over his shoulder, spotting the glowing experimental orb he was working on. Piper didn’t know who “Alexandria” really was, and he preferred to keep it that way. The web was all ready tangled, it didn’t need more lines attached. Charlie could remember times when he and Piper were children, when his sister had constantly needed to know everything going on in his life. She’d poked and prodded until she knew his friends, his teachers, his crush, how he spent his damn time during recess. She’d been nosy as hell, annoying as hell, and loving as hell. On his first day of high school, she’d dropped him off in their mother’s Honda and blasted “Hollaback Girl” for everyone in a three-mile radius to hear. On his first day of the job, she’d rode in and demanded her old pocketwatch to be fixed, even though Georgie’s was mainly a car repair shop. His superior, Lara, giggled madly at him, snatching the Omega from Piper’s sneaky little fingers and listening to Charlie’s pleads of fixing it as quickly as possible. Piper had loved playing the role of the humiliating sibling, no matter how much he promised to strangle her. Now, he only wanted to keep her from the messed-up life he got himself involved in. Piper London had a separate existence besides her little brother, after all. “Piper,” he emphasized. “This is a useless conversation. I need to get back to work.” “Work?” She said, concern explicit through the phone. “Charlie, it’s three in the morning. What’re you doing?” “Client wants it for sunrise tomorrow. I can’t rest until it’s done or else she’ll kill me.” If Charlie knew anything about himself, he would call himself an expert at lying by omission. In the sentence he’d just spoken, he never lied straightforwardly. Everything he’d said was true. He simply omitted information from her. She would assume the client would be an obnoxious rich dude that wanted his Lambo ready by sunrise to cheat on his model wife with her sister with, and she would assume the “she” was Lara. He chose to let her think of her false axioms, didn’t correct her misconceptions. He had a talent of telling the certainty of a situation, with important holes of information in between. “Charlie.” Her voice was as condescending as it was completely unconvinced by his statements. “You have to go to sleep! If Lara wants this project done so bad, she can do it herself.” “There’s no reason to stop now, when the project is almost done.” Not technically a lie. Before she could begin her the You Never Take Care of Yourself tirade—she tended to call him an obsessive workaholic, as if she didn’t have a fear of inactivity herself—a flash sounded on the outside of his garage door. Without his doing, the large gate was flung upward, with the force of a thousand bodybuilders. In the darkness of the three a.m. daylight, Charlie noticed a woman. A staff of ironwood was splayed across her back, like a silhouette of a long, thin cylinder. Flat-bottomed faux-feather boots were worn on her feet, a short dark purple dress with her dark belt hanging loosely off her slender body, her pale skin glowing beautifully. Her curly red hair flowed down her back, her green eyes sparking like the embers of Greek fire. Her dark jacket was gracefully over her shoulders, standing with the elegance of a modern gladiatrix-Amazon hybrid. “Um,” stumbled Charlie, forgetting about his sister for all of one moment. “I’ll chat with you later, Pipes. Got to go.” Without waiting a response from her—which probably would’ve consisted on her keeping him for another hour, fully abusing her Ravenclaw persuasion techniques—he hung up. He self-consciously fumbled with the goggles on his forehead, his thoughts rapidly traversing a million meters an hour, before approaching the woman his sister called Alexandria. She relaxed ever so slightly after she saw him very clearly dismiss who he was speaking to. She was a very jealous type. (He forced his conscious to remind him that she had no right to be jealous, that she shattered his heart to pieces, that she didn’t deserve him—) Charlie cleared his throat and crossed his arms defensively, raising an eyebrow. It was rare when she visited without him summoning her—especially since he hadn’t finished her enterprise. She saw his anticipation and straightened her back, striding passed him like the world was her red carpet. He tried not to notice the sudden upward rise of her outfit, and the softness of her thighs. He chided himself by inwardly cursing himself, and followed her confidently, completely unlike a lost puppy. She strolled directly to the Shard, laying casually in the tripod he’d created for it. It blazed as orange as the cinders of a torch, silver outlining as gleaming as a coin, magic irradiating from it in visual waves. She outstretched her arms, as expecting and adoring as Charlie was to Piper’s Pitbull, Bella. She hovered her hands, barely a finger’s length away. Her emerald irises flared hungrily, rings of hazel displaying to everyone just how powerful she was. “You haven’t finished.” It wasn’t a question. He fidgeted a little. “What’re you doing here?” She turned to look at him. She was still centimeters shorter than him, with light freckles flayed across her cheeks. He remembered when they were still together, before he knew who and what she was, she used to smile at him like she loved him, like he was her guardian angel. He remembered when she was Alexandria Grace, a pretty redhead who loved animals and fantasy more than reality. She had dreams beyond his imagining, ambition in spades, and eyes as green as a dragon’s scales. She was different when he’d known her as human, but he didn’t know if that was dilemmatic or not. She tilted her head. “Am I unwelcome?” “Never,” he admitted. “But . . . you’ve never shown yourself without me calling you first. You haven’t appeared without my summoning since before you . . .” He trailed off. “Since I became Artemis,” she finished. He gazed down at her. Artemis was more formal than Alexandria, more forced to accept responsibility for what she was, more cold and distant. “You left, Alex. You’re back, suddenly, and now you want me to fix this ancient artifact from the shadow realm. You’re a bloody witch, Alex. A witch! An immortal one, at that. Did you expect me to not be fazed by any of this?” He was flinging his arms around as he ranted. She pursed her lips. “I am Artemis now. I’ve morphed into a more powerful being than my human form ever could be. I loved you, Charlie London. The life we once shared is gone. I’m sorry for that.” His heart panged in his chest like a pinball machine. It wasn’t the reaction he’d wanted to hear. Pathetically, he’d been hoping (no matter how unlikely he knew it’d be) she’d hug him, confess she still cared for him, and stay with him. Instead, he’d been smacked in the face with reality and how brutally naïve his desires were. He still loved her—if he didn’t, he probably would’ve taken her Shard project and slammed it into the ground, cursing her to the Hell she’d come from. He desperately wished for Alexandria, for the kind girl who couldn’t care less about being the most powerful witch in history. He swallowed back his emotions, and pushed passed Artemis. He admired the Shard, unsure whether to thank it or swear at it for bringing the woman he loved back to him. “What is this?” he whispered. Artemis repositioned her posture to study him closer. He could still read her like a book: She wanted to know why he cared, and why he hasn’t ripped the Shard from its prop and kicked her out of his workplace. She took a piece of her Merida locks and started braiding it. It was a habit Alexandria used to do—she claimed it was because she needed something to do with her hands; she mainly did it when she was bored, or anxious. His lips curled a little at the familiar movement, but he listened carefully when she spoke. “That,” she said, “is a Shard.” He snorted when he realized she wouldn’t say anything more. “Yes?” he prompted. She tossed the thin braid toward the back of her head and began a new one. “‘The Shard is a supernatural triangle-shaped instrument that can provide an easy gateway to multiple dimensions for mortal beings.’ Essentially, it’s the only way a human could ever travel to the shadow realm, or places only the Wraith could go. With it, you can journey to the past, the future, or forks in the road where the butterfly effect is prevalent.” She gestured with one of her hands and then continued her braiding adventure. “Let’s say you have a decision to make. You have two choices. You choose one walkway of life. With the Shard, you can go to the future where you made the other choice. It’s a dangerous, cantankerous, and extremely powerful bit of equipment.” “And you broke it,” Charlie commented. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest. It was no secret Alexandria found thrill in living on the edge, doing things like chucking a wine glass in the air and see how well she could catch it—for fun. It wasn’t shocking to know she dismissed the power of a dimension-jumping artifact to prove a point. Artemis huffed. Her face was framed with stiff, wiry plaits like dreadlock bangs. She shoved them all behind one ear, in an attempt to look professional, but it only made her seem more like the human she’d once been. She unhooked her staff from her back and pointed it at his heart. “I did not break it,” she informed him. “I don’t think an object as strong as one that could cause a rift in the universe would break itself, Artemis.” She rolled her candy apple green eyes and pressed the ironwood harder against his chest. “I didn’t break it,” she insisted. She sheathed her two-meter baton back into is wrap on her spine. “My sister . . .” “Your sister?” he asked, intrigued. Even Alexandria had hated speaking of her family. Before she’d fully transformed, she’d told him she lost contact with her parents when she chose to live among mortals, instead of her fellow witches in crime. She wanted to protect her sister from ever having to make that decision. “Her name is Hestia,” she explained, as if that was vital information for him to treasure ultimately. “My younger, pain-in-the-bosom sister. She has a special habit of causing trouble throughout the world of witches. She believes in a morale that lets newly appointed choose routes other than performing magic. In an attempt to support this philosophy, she joined this . . . clique, called the Keepers. The Keepers’ leader, Dawn, gave my sister a mission. She was to steal one of the three Shards of Life from the Wraith, an all-powerful being who rules over the shadow realm and chooses the most powerful as his reapers to do his bidding. She did it. She stole it. I didn’t know whether to be proud of ashamed of her.” She chuckled bitterly. “To complete her mission, Dawn told her to destroy the Shard for good. Hestia shattered it to a point of almost no return. For her actions, she was arrested and put in the Wraith’s underworld brig. The only way to set her free was to . . .” Charlie’s eyes widened in realization. While they were dating, Alexandria was absolutely addicted with a law-based show called Curiae. The protagonist Curiae followed cases that were seemingly impossible to defend or convict, with many lawsuits leaving innocents dead or villains alive. Her favorite quote was from an episode from the show’s final season, when Curiae was forced to acquire help from his worst enemy and suspected former lover, Lorraine. The human-turned-witch adored reciting Curiae’s famous line whenever semi-convenient for her; mainly whenever she broke her diet and needed a barely legitimate excuse for doing so. “‘Sometimes, the best way to save an angel is to dance with the devil.’” Artemis’s shoulders slumped as she stared at her shoes, as if she was reminiscing on those nostalgic memories as well. “I left,” she said, very reluctantly, like she was admitting a deep, dark secret, “to save an angel.” “You left to rescue your sister,” he said, feeling a mix of every emotion possible. He didn’t know what to think of this girl standing in front of him. She was selfish and selfless simultaneously, she was infuriating yet loving. She was too much for him and not enough. He was still bloody in love with her, and hated that she could never love him the same way. As if snapping herself out of a trance, she spun around so she faced away from him. Her fingers twitched, curling like they wanted to grab her staff and/or punch Charlie in the nose. She sighed. Without twisting back, she spoke, exasperated. “Can you fix the Shard by sunrise?” Pieces of a puzzle were connecting inside Charlie’s mind. Events were actually making sense, in the bizarre reality that was his life. “The Wraith made you do all of this. The Wraith made you become Artemis. The Wraith kidnapped your bloody sister!” Artemis walked to the still-open garage doors without answering him. She unsheathed her ironwood once more, the darkness on the outside finally dissipating into a flood of red-orange and rosy-pink. The skyline of the city was awakening, tall skyscrapers shining with artificial light and the shadows of dentistry-promoting billboards hanging over the streets like an impending doom. Dismissive, blasé folk casually walked the streets, ignoring the warrior storming out of Georgie’s and the confused man behind her. Lives were beginning, so the witch could not stay. Artemis drew a giant square in the air, the gold magic of her staff gleaming like a lightning strike. She paused for a moment. “I’m sorry, Charlie,” she told him. “After tomorrow, you will never see me again.” He thought over and over again of how exactly to respond to that statement. He could scream childishly and tell her even if she did come back, he would send her to the curb. He could comment resentfully of how she only ever returned to him because she needed something from him. He could beg her to stay, confessing how he still loved her and how he needed her, and all-in-all guilt trip her in the most pathetic way possible. He could do so much, and yet . . . “Artemis, Alexandria, whoever you are,” he said, a small, sad smile grazing his face. “I hope you find your sister. I hope you find your happiness, even if it’s not with me.” He could see the scarlet of her hair, the Greek fire of her eyes, the ivory of her skin, the violet of her dress. He studied her, the girl who’d haunted his dreams with her laughter, and knew her declaration was true. He would never see her again. Her emerald green irises were sorrowful. She nodded. “Goodbye, Charlie London. I wish you a life without witches.” Her lips twitched at the attempt at humor. She closed her eyes, turned her back to the magical gateway, and fell. Charlie watched as she disappeared into the air like a whisper, hushed and unsatisfactory. He stood in the center of Georgie’s Workshop, staring into nothingness. He sighed, ran his fingers through the brown mop on his head, accidentally caught them on his goggles and nearly cut himself, and swore out loud. A woman passing with a young child gave him a dirty look, giving him a disapproving onceover. He quickly shut the large garage entryway, and the world was quiet once more. He strode over to the Shard—the interdimensional artifact potentially capable of destroying the universe with its immense, impossible power. The Shard was not manmade, thus could not be fixed by Artemis’s magic. It came from the deepest part of the shadow realm, the Wraith’s birthplace. Otherworldly magic would simply irritate the Shard, refusing to trust its user and, in the worst-case scenario, even attacking its wielder. Old fashioned mechanical techniques could succeed, in theory, and Charlie was the guinea pig. He scrutinized it from a distance, before sitting down at his workbench and continuing to weld, as if nothing had ever happened. *** In a far-off, distant place, a young girl slept. Her dark, labyrinthine tresses flowed across her pillow like a demonic halo. She was curled in a ball, her knees into her chest, with a single arm tucked under her cushion. Elegant fingertips circled a sharp silver knife, bloodied from former victims and accidental cuts. A shadowy, luminous figure stood at her cell doors, watching, listening to the pleads consuming the little girl’s elder sister. The fog with a hood known as the Wraith chuckled, a sound that boomed across planes of reality with the force of its might. It held up a sleeve, silencing the fowl with a single motion. In a voice only she could understand, it commanded her to remedy the evils her sister caused. It summoned the remainders, the bare minimum, of the broken Shard, and demanded it fixed by sunrise in a week, or her service toward him would extend a thousand years. The other condition was one she had no choice in obliging: become a witch, the destiny she’d constantly denied herself, and transform into an immortal. There could be no recovery from that. The Wraith’s amusement grew—if it took human form, its lips would be quirking upward. For how he lusted after Alexandria, the beauty she provided for the world, yet it knew of her feelings toward it: disgust, animosity, vengeance to save her sister from its wrath. The Wraith did only what it could do: it saw the happiness she was living with the boy—the mortal—and punished her for the sins her Hestia committed. She would either leave her sibling to rot in Hell’s incarceration for eternity, or sacrifice the one who loved her most. It could not ever have her, will never have her, and so this Charlie London could not have her either. Alexandria Grace would never be the same.

Magic, by alizaarches

Summary: An immortal witch is forced to revisit a life she left behind.

I’m so, so sorry, guys. I wanted to give you absolute quality, and I was really off this week. I finished it yesterday, the day I was meant to post it, but I hated it. Absolutely hated it. The writing was lazy, the story was meh, etc., etc. I needed to fix it, because I would’ve hated myself otherwise. I just recently finished editing it, and am finally satisfied with the results.

As usual, this story took an adventure to be written. The original idea I had was inspired by the Witch Mercy skin in the video game, Overwatch. So, clearly, Artemis was initially blonde, with a more revealing outfit, and her narrative was very different. She was already a witch at the beginning of the story, an immortal one, and she was flirting with the all-powerful Ghost (yes, instead of the Wraith, it was called the Ghost) to get something she wanted (I hadn’t decided what it was). The second incarnation of this story introduced Charlie London. Artemis was still blonde, and already an immortal witch, but she tried to “escape” the witch lifestyle. She fell in love with the moral man, Chase (yep, his name was first Chase) London. This version also contained a happy ending, with Artemis eventually marrying “Chase”. Finally, this form of Artemis was born. I was partially inspired by fictional mechanics like Dean Winchester (Supernatural) and Linh Cinder (The Lunar Chronicles—highly recommend, it’s a four-book sci-fi series with graphic novels and bonus content!). I really wanted to base a story in the city of London, even if the way they speak is severely inaccurate. (Charlie London lives in London, ha!) I also changed this version so Artemis “transformed” into becoming a witch, being a mortal in the beginning. It also has a bittersweet ending, as you can tell.

At the moment I’m writing this, it’s 10:44 p.m. Be grateful what I do for you people.

(Also, I realized that I have a thing for writing redheads. I love ginger people, and their freckled faces. . . . Sorry, you’re not objects, but I do want to put you in jars. ~Dan Howell)