#He prevented her from betraying him and also made her mute. which like yeah making your kid unable to communicate as punishment is abusive

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

hate that sonic free riders is Like That bc maybe if it was ACTUALLY PLAYABLE people would stop making such terrible metal sonic takes like she straight up still has the exact same personality and still has free will even if she can’t outright lock her dad in a room and take over anymore she disguised herself to try and beat sonic entirely on her own volition. she’s still a dramatic bitch too bc like, why would eggman Not want his magnum opus to act like him.

[tales-unique]

QUARANTINE  II

—Question from DeadlyNighshade97: That’d be interesting... What if, for a separate chapter also, Reader gets sick anyway, despite best efforts not to? And all four of them, burdened by guilt for all the stress caused that likely made Reader sick in the first place, /all four of them/ pay Reader back in the same fashion? I can’t tell whether that’d be chaos or peaceful maintenance... or both?

“Ah— Ahh-choo!” It’s about the seventh sneeze that’s come from you in a row and you almost feel as though your body is going for a world record. It’s no surprise that you’ve become sick after taking care of the Horsemen when they were ill, but what did catch you off guard was how slowly it had taken to manifest itself. Weeks had come and gone since then and all of the Four were back to their normal selves and, at first, you had only suffered a small cough. However before long you found yourself overcome with a fever, your throat sore and scratchy, while your nose grew stuffy and useless.

Whimpering from the nest you had made from every blanket you could find you curl up tighter, trying to get as much warmth as you could without much success; your body burned, raging with your fever, but you still felt cold. It was one of those moments where you truly hated life and were very much feeling sorry for yourself. As you wallow in misery you conclude you’ve had enough of the hell that is daytime television, feeling as though your brain may begin to dribble out of your ears at any given moment. With a frustrated huff you toss the remote of your T.V. aside, leaving the drone of The Pioneer Woman behind you as you shuffle to the kitchen, kicking off the sheets as you go. As you rummage around for another bottle of Cold & Flu you’re oblivious to the sound of your front door opening and closing, the rumble of footsteps approaching, because your clogged sinuses prevent you from hearing properly. Strife and War easily enter your home with the key you’ve given them, having gone ahead of Fury and Death so they can conclude business in peace before they too come over. “She really does have it bad,” the elder of the two murmurs, shaking his head as he flicked his gaze over the mountain of blankets strewn about your couch and the crumpled tissues overflowing from your bin. “Hey!” He calls out, peeking his head into the kitchen to see you chugging the medicine like your life depended upon it. This causes the Horseman to snort in laughter, beckoning his brother to come and see but War had already settled on the couch after pushing the blankets to the other end of it. With a shake of his head he looks back to you, all tired eyes and wild bed hair, and gives a sympathetic smile. “You look rough,” his voice was low and quiet and you’re thankful that he’s considerate of the pounding headache you have. “Yeah,” you croak, voice raw from coughing, “because of you guys.” It’s all in good humor, he can tell from the smile on your face as you shuffle past him to return to your blanket nest. War looks troubled upon your return, his brow creased with concern at your awful complexion and scratchy voice, but remains quiet and inviting when you come to him. He sits back as much as he is able on your small couch, allowing you to curl up with your blankets against his side for warmth. The behemoth is always devilishly hot and it’s glorious right now. Strife follows close behind and can’t help but feel a slight tug of, well, something that he doesn’t care to name when he sees how you’re already making yourself quite at home leaning against War. “You’re so warm,” you groan in delight, burying your face into the crook of his flesh arm without a care in the world. It doesn’t take long for Strife to ditch his armour and helmet in favour of taking the unoccupied space at your side, spreading out, ( laying claim , you would say ) and lazily running a hand through your locks. They’re damp with perspiration and he frowns when he feels how your skin is hot to the touch. Sharing a look with War, who is equally perplexed at the scorching heat that’s radiating from you, Strife decides that it’s time they gave you a little TLC. It’s the least they can do after you so dutifully looked after them when they were ill. War is the first to speak up after the mutual, silent agreement between the two, mimicking his brothers low tone to minimise any pain it may cause your head. “Perhaps you should got to bed? It would be more comfortable than here,” he suggested, grumbling when you responded by burrowing deeper into your blankets against his side. “C’mon, sweetheart, we’ll come too,” Strife chimes in, trying his best to coax you out with a loving nickname and the promise of cuddles. “No,” you reply stubbornly, voice muffled from the fabric. It goes on like this for a few moments before it’s obvious that you’re not budging, so War decides he’s had enough and proceeds to lift you up, blankets and all, and escort you to your room. You try to make it difficult, squirming and grousing the entire way, but you’re no match for the towering Horseman. Once again Strife is quick to follow, laughing as War sets you down, a pout on your tired, pale face. “That wasn’t fair.” “Life isn’t fair, sweetheart, now c’mon, snuggle up, it’s time for the cuddle pile!” You stick your tongue out a Strife, who returns the gesture, and you can’t help the small giggle that escapes you at his antics as you make yourself comfortable. Strife, obviously, is quick to be at your side, joined by War on your other side, once he has shed the bulky armour he sports. The sudden heat erupted from such contact has you melting into the sheets, a blissful smile on your lips. You’re unsure what time it is when the sounds of hushed voices rouses you from your sleep. Your throat is dry, your nose still stuffy, but you feel a tiny bit better after such an undisturbed sleep. It’s then you notice the flowing, magenta hair of Fury as she sits perched on the edge of your bed, speaking with Strife. Deciding that you have no real need to move you stay where you arm, resting your head against Strife arm, War’s warm body at your back; still asleep, you assume, from the way his breathing is deep. “She’s still no better? Sickly little thing. She’s been ill for weeks!” Typical Fury, always impatient, but her tone betrays a note of worry. “You know how Humans are, that’s why she needs us,” Strife counters, voice warm and affectionate, “Has Death made that tea yet? I want her to have some before she goes down for another round of z’s.” Death. Making tea. For you. Oh, this you have to see, if only to prove it’s not a fever-induced hallucinations. Wriggling slightly against the confines of the blankets, you let out the most believable yawn you could muster, blinking up at the two Horsemen, who now turned their attention to you. Strife shifted so he could brush your hair from your face, smiling as he did so, while Fury turned to sit cross-legged in front of you. “Hey sleepyhead, you have a good nap?” Strife teased, and you caught Fury’s eye-rolling as you nodded. “Yeah, I feel a lot better.” “Good,” Fury soon chimes in, tilting her head as she looks you over, “you’ve been moping around in this place for too long.” “Well, being ill will do that to ya, Fury,” you chirp, watching with a cheeky smile as she huffs and turns away. You were feeling much better with them there to raise your spirits, but it wasn’t long before your flu reared its ugly head and you began spluttering, trying to hold your cough in. Strife, sporting a frown, rubbed your back soothingly while Fury left to get Death and the tea he had been brewing. The commotion cause War to wake, blinking bleary white eyes for a moment before sitting up straight, panicked by your hunched over form. Before he could speak you quickly shake your head, hand practically flailing. “I’m fine!” You quickly wheeze out trying to contain yourself, “just coughing!” It’s hard but you manage to stifle the awful cough, laying back to catch your breath just as Fury returned, closely followed by Death. Sitting up straighter, you wipe at the slight wetness that pooled at the corner of your eyes, smiling to the masked Horseman as he offers you a languidly steaming mug ( your favourite, the one with the minimalist crows flying on it ) before crossing his arms. “Drink all of it,” Death starts, pointing to the mug held cautiously in your hands. It doesn’t smell too pleasant, but then again the best medicines never do and you trust Death to not give you anything that would harm you. “It’ll work better that way,” he added, softer this time, but still firm. He was affectionate in his own, muted sort of way, and you nodded with an appreciative smile. He wouldn’t coddle you, not like the others, but would come and offer you support when needed. “Thanks Death,” you called out when he turned to leave, catching his gaze as he glanced over his shoulder at you, watching you sip the drink before giving a nod of his own, satisfied you would do as told. He would be back and so you let him leave the room, allowing him his moments of solitude while you soaked up the attention of the remaining three. “Every drop, sweetheart,” Strife teased as he watched you drink Death’s tea, chuckling warmly at the way your nose crinkled at the taste once you had finished, setting the mug aside. Now you could focus on lapping up the attention they were giving you. With a satisfied hum you curl up between War and Strife, beckoning Fury to come lay with you all once she’s finally settled on a film to watch; Wonder Woman. You can hear that the T.V. in the living room has been turned off, no droning of cooking shows or as-seen-on-tv adverts, which prompts you to conclude that Death is settled there, no doubt on standby should anything happen. It isn’t long before the Horsemen have all fallen asleep to the sound of glorious battle and Wonder Woman’s iconic image. You give a soft, relaxed sigh at the sight of War laid back against you headboard, content in his rest, and Strife curled at your side, clutching a blanket that no doubt smelt of you to his face, is equally as content. Fury, unlike her brothers, slips in and out of sleep, dozing here and there as she tries to stay awake to watch the movie. Her voice is soft when she calls your name, having heard and felt you shimmying out of the covers and get to your feet. “Where are you going?” She asks, leaning her head onto her hand from where she lays, stretched out like a cat, along the width of your bed. “Getting some water,” you hum, looking to the door, “and to check on Death, I was hoping he’d come join us.” You keep your voice quiet out of habit, not wanting him to hear you, but you know he probably still can and it causes you to frown slightly. The female Horseman notices and sighs, eyes stark in the light from the T.V. “Death is...Well, Death. He likes his own company sometimes, always has, but he does care.” It’s awkward and her gruff tone doesn’t make the words sound sincere, but you know her better than that and you know what she means. With a warm smile and a nod you leave your room, pulling the door behind you so it’s mostly closed. Padding quietly into the living room you don’t make it far on your path to the kitchen before Death gives a small cough to gain your attention, though he doesn’t get up from his seat. Instead he reaches out a hand, a simple gesture, and beckons you over. It’s not uncommon for Death to be affectionate like this and you accept his advance eagerly, forgetting your need for a drink altogether. “Are you feeling well?” Death asks, voice quiet and soft yet still firm. It was a delectable mix, one that always made you weak to him. “Yeah, much better,” you murmur as you settle on the arm of the chair he’s sitting in, his outstretched hand coming to rest on your lower back. “But that tea tasted awful,” you added, laughing lightly. “As long as it helps, does it really matter about the taste?” Quips the Horseman as he easily pulls you from your perch to his lap, allowing you a moment to get comfortable. “Yeah, actually! It does!” You huff, but there’s a grin forming on your lips and you’re struggling to keep your laughter at bay. Death’s snarky humor always makes you feel better, almost as much as his medicines do. “Hm. I beg to differ,” he answers easily, leaning back in the seat. You settle against him with practiced ease, able to find him comfortable despite the sharp features his body possesses. With a turn in your fever you’re thankful for the coolness of his skin, it helps to dampen the raging heat that radiates from your flesh. You swear that, at this point, you rival War in how hot you are. Blowing a piece of hair out of your face you hum in contentment, finding solace in his quiet presence. “I’m glad you all came today, I feel a lot better thanks to you guys,” you mutter through a yawn, eyes closing. “It was no trouble,” Death answered, chuckling slightly when he could feel how your breathing became rhythmically slow and deep. At least you didn’t snore, unlike his siblings.

[miamaroo]

Northern Migration- Chapter 29 (Notes+Preview)

It's been forty long years since I last updated. Does anyone even write TAZ Balance fics anymore? Does anyone even remember that I'm a writer, or is my brand just that pair of unnecessary bara tiddies that all the kids around the block make fun of me for nowadays? Either way, I'm still in business. And what is a new chapter if not an opportunity to give a long list of notes?

Obviously, spoilers ahead.  

Did you catch that quick little appearance of Brad Bradson? I very recently rewrote that entire opening scene in order to include a new character, which gave me the chance to reinsert Brad into the story instead of featuring a nameless OC.

See that quick mention of Bane's past? That's going to be expanded on very soon (or at least, soon by my standards).

And the new character I wanted to include is Antonia! Again, I originally had a throwaway OC in this role, but when I was writing the chapter after this, I realized the role I needed was too big to go to a throwaway OC. I didn't include the other guy (Rowan?? I think??) because I felt like it would be too much for me to properly handle. Plus, I don't think he and Antonia are a packaged deal. I'll do my best to find a place for him somewhere else in the story, but I also have had Hecuba on the backburner for way too long. She gets first dibs.

The threat Sterling gives Bane works a little better with the throwaway OC I had, who was a captain from a different city looking to take over Bane's position in Goldcliff. Essentially, the threat was Bane being replaced.

Oh, you assumed Angus was inoculated off-screen? You assumed incorrectly!

Magnus and Julia are just *chef's kiss*

I am in Team Lucretia Should Be Angus's Mom, but that only comes with the understanding that she's kinda bad at it. Which is mostly fine with Angus, as he's pretty bad at being a normal kid with normal needs.

Taako's meeting with Istus was vaguely alluded to during the flashback of how he and Ren saved Refuge (back during the Wonderland arc). He went there without Ren (the POV character), so the scene was never written.

Having Julia cross herself in front of a god is an overtly Christian gesture, and frankly, it does bug me that I had to utilize it here. I'm trying to avoid coding this fantasy world's religion with too much Christianity, but I needed a way to convey Julia trying to show respect quickly and without burdening the prose too much. So I felt a little trapped and ended up just using crossing anyways. I was raised Catholic, so there's probably a whole bunch of Little Christian Things that just pop up in my writing without me realizing so it's kinda a bummer that I couldn't find a way to work around something I know I'm doing.

Istus is just out here referring to the canonical story as an alternate reality

I try to make Davenport's comments discernable to the reader without needing a direct translation, but I feel as though I may have messed up this time around. When Istus warns that there is a terrible choice in their futures, Davenport essentially asks if this is the same terrible fate the Judges from the Stolen Century had condemned them for.  So Istus's repone ("Indeed, but I don't see your deeds as ones that are mine to judge") is reassuring as it is a little cheeky.

If you want more of Julia challenging gods with reckless abandon, read my story.

Isn't it just lovely that the prophecy fits the naming scheme of all the chapters?

I knew I wanted to kill someone in the main cast off, but I spent a long time trying to decide if I could do it without betraying everything tazb stands for. Inevitably, I decided that it's my story, and I want to take the risk. I think that it will be worth it. I am not a big fan of character death being there just for the same of being there, and I hope that when the time comes and I bring the scene I have in mind to life, you guys will be okay with it. This is chapter sort of acts as an in-universe warning so that you can start preparing yourself mentally (though it's not going to happen during this upcoming relic arc for sure). The archive tags will change as we get closer to the deed being done.

I am also doubling down on my reassurance that Stevie will be okay with an in-story explanation for her plot armor.

All the way back in January, I had made a few posts about trying to decide between the fun anachronism of a scrunchie and the fantasy-esque poncho. As you can see, I did both.

There is no possible way anyone can triumph the soul-purifying beauty of "you're going to be amazing," but damnit. I did my best, even if I only changed it ever so slightly. They have already done a lot of amazing things. And you know what? So have you! You're already amazing!

Oh, John. This is probably the most ambiguously I've written him yet. One thing's for sure: something has changed for him, though only time will tell what that thing is.

I'm claiming "Landslide" as track #2 on a NM mixtape. Don't @ me.

Lucas used command undead on Barry in chapter 24, preventing him from taking the umbra staff when he had the chance.

Lup and Barry souls are pure magic, so I imagine Barry can recognize Lup's magic anywhere.

I've been writing Barry as very depressed and slightly off-kilter because I imagine his anchor to Lup is disturbed somewhat by her imprisonment.

Despite seeing vague visions of the Stolen Century, Ren can't piece any of it together because knowledge of all those realities could ruin her mind like it did Maureen.

I imagine Kravitz was leaning against a wall when he saw Stevie run by and just sort of shrugged to himself. He doesn't quite catch how much society has changed yet.

I am half asleep right now, so no more quips. Here's the preview for the next chapter:

While Taako is all color, the Grim Reaper is a void of black. Muted traces of reds and purples make themselves known on the trim of his blanket and beads in his braids, but he doesn’t seem to need any neon hues. He looks warm, like the relic of a hazy summer day. Yet, when Taako jabs an elbow at his stomach, he yelps in surprise and complains about the cold.

“Intriguing pair, right?”

Julia quirks a brow, looking askance to see Lucretia hiding her smile behind her map. “That’s a way of putting it,” she says. “No matter how you look at it, one of them is going to get you dead.”

Lucretia shakes her head. “Be fair.”

“Sure. It’s the Raven Queen’s fault.” A moment too late, Julia crosses herself. She’s never considered herself a religious person, but after meeting one goddess, she dares not risk angering another.

“Taako, too.” Lucretia folds up the map with intention. Her robe is like a slash of scarlet, but she carries the power of it with practiced ease. On Taako, the color looks like a costume—a role he’s only playing at being. A suggestion with no foundation. Even Kravitz, in his reaper regalia, seems made to fulfill a duty. Maybe that’s why Julia wears a peasant, mud-colored cloak that reaches her knees. Beyond a red scarf tied in her short hair, she doesn’t fake having an allegiance to something not her own. “Who knows? Perhaps this little adventure together will help you realize each other’s strengths.”

Julia snorts. “Yeah. Sure. Thank you Taako for using your transmutation magic to stop the transmutation problem you created.”

“Oh, stop. You’re making me blush.” Taako pushes between them, wry words cutting through the calm atmosphere. The woods around them is quiet in a disconcerting kind of way, as if the universe wants them to know that they are crazy for approaching what all others have fled. Taako saunters ahead, twirling his glaive, He spins around lazily. He looks ready to say something when a particular snowflake drifts down before him. It’s bigger than the rest, the size of a coin. Bright and white, they watch as it floats the last few inches until touching the snow.

The snow around it sloshes inwards, spilling like sand on a beach. Except, it’s no longer white. It’s makeup pink. Seeping outwards like a spider webs, the tendrils of magic make a larger and larger circle of pink in the snow.

Everyone scrambles away, knowing without words what they’re seeing.

[space-whalesharks]

I couldn't decide on a prompt so maybe “If you play that song one more time, I’m army rolling out of this car.” or “Really? Pinning me against a wall? You couldn’t think of anything more creative?” or “What? You’ve never seen a girl cry over macaroni and cheese before?” and Johnnic for the ship because tbh I've become such a hoe for them and your writing it's just so fantastic!!!!

For all you Johnnic hoes that give me life, another “Would’ve Been Perfect for the New Divide Epilogue But That’s Just Life” piece. Ridiculously Soft John with teeth-rotting fluff ahead.

Derived By Fools: 

A conversation with Nick gets John to get introspective, and Nic has to pull out the big guns to distract him

When little Carmina Rye’s eighth birthday rolled around, it had been a wake-up call to all of the adults that the Collapse allowed for very little when it came to celebrating a child’s birthday. Still, Nick was determined to throw the best party the New World would ever see, so he had gone as all out as he could. Most of the county had been invited. He had made the point ‘you don’t gotta bring anything, just try to make it the best day ever for her.’

Not one to do arguably nothing for her favorite (and only) goddaughter- Nicolette was determined to give the girl something. After searching for ages, she had managed to scrounge together some wood nails and paint, ruling that she was going to make a dollhouse. The finished product had come out lopsided in a few places, but it would work, function well, and it was the thought that counted, damn it.

John had come through by venturing to another bunker in the Valley where some of the residents’ including the Ryes’ old things had been dumped after he or his people had stolen them. He had found a few dolls from an early raid to go along with it, and then had found an old knit blanket that had in fact been meant for Carmina around when she was born. Whoever had made it had made it large so it would grow into it with years to spare into her childhood.

When they had shown up at the party with the gifts, Carmina had been ecstatic, more so about the dollhouse, naturally. She had immediately tugged Nicolette and Cal over to the side to play with it.

John had been left behind with Kim and Nick, considering they were far more interested in the blanket and the fact that John had been willing to risk opening old wounds in favor of bringing it.

They had explained that Nick’s mother had made it for Carmina, and she had passed not long after Nikki was born- just missing the Collapse by some miracle, even if the event itself was hardly one. Still, the sentimentality and the gesture were immense to them. Nick had yanked John into a long, quiet-but-loaded-with-emotion bear hug in response. Even Kim had joined in, but upon feeling and sensing John’s still-very-much-there issue with physical affection from people outside of his wife and son, she had backed up, patted the small of his back a couple of times and relented. It had taken Nick a solid minute extra to catch on.

After Carmina had roped Cal and Tommy Stone into playing with the dolls and dollhouse with her, the adults had gone into the Rye home- which had also remained in relatively good shape since the Collapse and was just about back to normal after repairs.

After a few minutes, Nicolette had seen Nick and Kim having a hushed conversation in one corner, muted by Sharky and Addie talking about how Xander had almost blown up the Marina because he had brought a match too close to a gas tank while drunk the previous week. She had given them a concerned look, and once Nick caught her watching, he merely winked and waved his hand dismissively before wandering over to John, who was in the opposite corner, talking to Jerome. Whatever he had said got drowned out by the other two again, and she watched curiously as Nick led John into the kitchen and out of view. She hadn’t expected to miss the openness of the place before they had to build walls to support it, but the suspense was killing her.

There was a series of metallic clanking every once in a while and Nicolette had wanted to investigate, but Sharky had looped an arm around her shoulders to relay the time that they had shot down a Chosen plane and it had gone straight into a shrine, sending the ‘whole damn thing up in the biggest fuckin’- shit, language- shit, I did it again- SORRY- blaze that you ever did see.’

It had been another few minutes before some smell that Nicolette couldn’t put her finger on wafted in from the other room. Kim came out after a few more minutes in order to get the kids to come inside.

And then the big question got answered, because Kim and Nick came into the room with a cake, and John trailed behind with a bowl of mac and cheese.

The kids merely shrieked in response, oblivious to the fact that everyone else was dead silent after seeing the mac and cheese, torn between laughing or not. They had all heard the ‘watery mac and cheese’ story. But this batch hardly looked watery at all.

Nicolette personally focused on the positive. They had included John after everything. The Ryes were making an effort to rebuild bridges. John was making an effort to atone for all his wrongdoings. Also, they had fucking made legitimate mac and cheese, which they hadn’t had in years and good God, she had missed it. She couldn’t wait to see how Cal liked it.

John caught on to the strange looks that came his way. “It was Joseph who made the batch from the barbecue,” he pointed out, but not without humor. Some mix of emotions passed in his eyes for a moment.

It took Nicolette a moment to realize just saying the other man’s name probably brought him back to weeks ago when Joseph had shown up at the Ranch, getting Cal’s attention from afar in order to bait John into leaving the house to investigate and discovering that his brother had found a way to a bunker, survived and wanted to change things between them- they were family, he needed his brother back and all that. The confrontation had almost gotten ugly, and John had lost sleep over it for a week.

She sighed, sidled over to him and took the bowl out of his hands. She passed it over to Addie, who seemed to put together that there was something only they knew that was bothering him, so she took over serving. Nicolette wrapped her arms around John and planted her chin firmly on his chest. “Hey. You good?” she leaned up to kiss him for good measure.

John sighed into it, then nodded. “I’m good,” he confirmed. He watched her for a moment and noticed her eyes were glossy side- and had been the second he had come around the corner. He stepped back in order to sit down in the chair behind him and pulled her down with him. “Are you?”

“What, you’ve never seen a girl cry over macaroni and cheese before?”

“Not at all,” John answered.

“Yeah, well, macaroni and cheese usually isn’t literal, an old favorite that the world’s prevented you from having for years. Or, ya know, a metaphor for you and the rest of these guys getting along.”

John scoffed, though there was no animosity behind it. “What’s with you, Whitehorse and the metaphors?”

“Dunno. I just get it from him.”

He scoffed again, then bumped his nose against hers in a show of affection that had everyone staring.

Hurk, however, was the only one ballsy or stupid enough to ask. “So… can I ask how this happened? Like how y’all went from tryin’ to kill each other to bein’ all in love n’ shit? ‘Cause all the people who weren’t in the know got was that ‘Joseph’s the Actual Snake’ video and like… word a’ mouth stuff.”

Addie snickered behind her glass of water. “Well, after Joseph went and betray him I imagine the turnin’ point in their relationship was their little rendezvous at Landsdowne. I mean, what could’ve been going through our girl’s head other than ‘pinning me up against that wall and fucking me, John, you couldn’t think of anything more creative’?!”

“ADDIE!” Nicolette objected over the mixed reactions of uneasy embarrassment or enjoyment the statement got- first and foremost in her brain was naturally Earl choking on whatever drink he was in the middle of taking as he finally found out the answer to the question about Landsdowne’s importance in their lives that he had wondered about for years.

“I’m right though, aren’t I?” Addie teased. “I mean, after all that cat and mouse you two boned against a wall. And from what I literally heard it was just a quickie. Sounded awfully vanilla to me after the weird piny shit you two got up to.”

“ ‘We’, hm?” John countered quickly, fully ready to change the subject by small tangents bit by bit if he had to.

“Oh, honey, you were her ‘f-word’ in our game of ‘F’, Marry-”

“Addie!” Nicolette repeated and threw an empty can at the woman for good measure.

John, however, finding an opening to avoid getting too deep into their history: “Oh, was I now?”

“You were everybody’s…’F’. Even Addie’s, for good measure. And Sharky’s, for the record. And Grace’s-”

“Mother or not, I can and will kill you,” Grace cut in from the back of the crowd.

It was enough to break whatever awkwardness had started up between everyone. The rest was broken when the kids came barrelling down the stairs, with Nikki, donned in her grandmother’s blanket tied around her shoulders like a cape, chasing the boys. She was yelling about being ‘Super Rook’ catching the bank robbers.’

Cal was very determined to make the point that ‘Super Rook’ was actually his mom so he would ‘get out of jail’ quickly.

Nicolette immediately joined in the chase, citing that ‘two Super Rook’s were better than one.’

Cal had been absolutely delighted at the betrayal.

By the time sunset rolled around, most of the crowd had dispersed, and the Ryes, Raylans, Jerome were the last ones left, crowded around the fire. Each family got one of the chairs, large enough to accept them because Nick had been determined to make adirondack chairs larger than the ones that had been at Johns ranch.

John had risked making a joke about Nick compensating for something, and Nick had come back at him by simply motioning at the Yes sign on the horizon, and that had promptly shut John up, but to everyone’s surprise it was in good humor. 

It had started off as shooting the shit with everybody about current issues before they were all a couple of drinks deep and itching to share memories from their time before the Collapse.

After a while, Nicolette had fallen asleep, leaning on John’s side and Cal was out cold draped across his chest. Carmina was curled up against Nick’s side, about to nod off herself, and the two men were just enjoying the peace of the night. Kim and Addie were on the other side of the yard, coming up with a joint travel business to get things back to normal again.

Something about the whole situation got John thinking about the past. Rescue me from all my sins, let me not be derived by fools. He had lived by that once. He was desperate to hate the woman who had forced him to quote it- to make it a mantra. The same woman who let him in; who let him love her and who let herself be loved by a monster. He had thought he was the fool once after Jacob’s death, after spending a while thinking they were the fools. He had fought tooth and nail against the love in his heart disguising itself as lust and begrudging respect. He had been right the first time. She and the others had been the fools. And they had rescued him from his sins. His heart ached in the best way and pulled Cal closer in response to ground himself.

Nick caught the look and smiled weakly. “Never thought this would’ve been a thing that happened after all this, huh? All of us sittin’ around a fire, enjoying each other’s company? Letting our kids hang out together? You havin’ a kid. With the Deputy.”

Deputy. It had been so long since he had heard that title said with such reverence. He had almost forgotten about how that was a constant in his vocabulary back then, spat with venom seeping from the word each time.

And now here the object of such strife was, curled up against him- his wife, mother of his child, his other half in so many other ways than just sharing their sin.

He hummed in agreement. 

They sat in silence for a while before Nick broke it again. “You ever miss it? Life before the Collapse?”

“I didn’t have much of one before these two, so no,” John answered. 

Nick gagged dramatically. “Don’t let Kim hear that, she’ll never think I do or say anything romantic ever again.”

“I think she’d understand.”

Nick squinted. “Hold on, you were rolling in money and you don’t consider that much of a life?”

“Nicolette never told you…?” John asked.

“Told me what?” Nick asked.

John exhaled sharply. She hadn’t gone blabbing about his childhood to anyone. There had been no sympathy gained from his history. He had earned his spot back with them, too. “I… wasn’t sober enough to remember most of the ‘good things’, and then… before I was ‘rolling in money”, well, let’s just say I wish I could forget.” He looked down at his family. Even after all these years he couldn’t wrap his mind around that word. “I owe all this to them…”

Nick hummed after a moment of dead silence, then leaned back. “You’re alright, John. Never thought I’d say that, but… Hell, you ain’t who you used to be.”

Thank God, John agreed, though he kept it to himself. After a while, he sighed. “After all this time, I’ve never apologized to you.”

Nick looked uneasy for a second, “For what?” he asked, though it was clearly more a question on what single item on a list of many he was apologizing for. He wasn’t playing stupid. 

“I… there were…” John sighed. “There are things I did back then… if I could go back, I wouldn’t change them. I’d do them again. I was… trying to make all of you see reason, to see things our way, regardless of whether or not what Joseph said ended up being true-”

“Yeah, well, look who ended up being right in the long run. That’s on us,” Nick replied quietly. 

“No it’s not. You were protecting your people,” John argued, then sighed. “That’s not- I meant… during… this one’s Atonement, I threatened you. I threatened your wife and unborn child. I didn’t… know, I didn’t understand… not until this,” he tilted his chin down at his family. “And I… I would die if anything happened to them, and I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. Including you back then. So… that’s… if it’s one thing I’m gonna apologize for, it’s that.”

Nick stared at him for a while, then shrugged. “Well, I don’t think I could ever exactly forgive you, but you’ve made up for it by now, Partner. Just don’t fuck it up and relapse.”

“I’d rather die than do that, too,” John assured him.

“Yeah, well, don’t do that either, it’ll break Nic’s heart, and if that happens I’m obligated to bring you back to life to beat your ass back to death,” Nick countered.

“Deal,” John agreed.

Nicolette stirred and lifted her head from John’s shoulder. “What’re you roping my husband into, Nick?”

“World domination, then space travel- and space domination. Why, you want in?” Nick asked.

“Well, I mean I am the one with the resume citing taking control of an entire county,” Nicolette pointed out.

“We helped a little,” Nick teased.

“Teeny bit,” Nicolette digressed. She stretched. “We should get going. Gotta see about those new police recruits soon.”

“You mean Rook won’t be Rook for much longer?” Kim asked as she and Addie ventured over to them.

She shrugged. “Can’t be the new girl on the block forever.”

“But you’ll always be our Rook,” Addie pointed out.

“I just threw up a little in my mouth,” Nicolette replied playfully, then untangled herself from John. She gave Cal a couple of pokes on the back as she went. “Hey, Little Man…”

Cal stirred, then blinked up at them.

John grinned. “Ready to go, Buddy?”

“Do we have to?” Cal asked.

“We’ll see them in a couple of days. They’re not far,” John insisted.

“What’s in it for me?” Cal asked after a moment.

John scoffed. “You’re your mother’s son, alright. How about… a race to the car?” John suggested.

“Deal!” Cal agreed, wide awake at the promise of the game, and immediately launched himself off of his father and bolted, headed for the pickup truck on the other side of the yard.

“Cheater!” John called before hopping up to chase after him.

“There’s him being his father’s son,” Nick mused.

Nicolette beamed, and then with a quick goodbye to the rest of them, headed for the truck. By the time she had made it, Cal was already rambling on about his victory in the race, and John was giving him that same patient, loving, prideful look he usually did any time Cal did one of his rambles.

She got in the driver’s seat and started up the truck, beaming away when Cal leaned forward to give a play by play of just what he had done to ensure he won the race. Apparently John’s leg had just happened to cramp up a couple of times- John had hidden his answering smirk behind his hand at just how hilarious Cal had found his father’s completely accidental blunder.

It didn’t take much of the short ride home to have Nicolette notice just how quiet John had been once he had turned back to look at the road, though. He was clearly lost in thoughts, but troubled all the same. She had seen that look on him several times- first and foremost when he had first tried to get a confession out of her. She reached over to turn on the radio to provide another distraction.

“-keep us safe, he’s gonna march us right to Eden’s gate, Oooh-’”

Not the worst happenstance when a radio turned on with a terribly timed song in her life, but not the best either. She glanced John’s way to see the man did drift out of his thoughts, only to look murderous. “John-”

John lunged for the comm radio in the corner, turned to a different channel and leaned in.. “Wheaty, if you play that song again I am rolling out of this fuc-  car, and if the impact doesn’t kill me I’m coming to-”

“Easy, man! It was an old playlist, I don’t know how that happened, I swear! The second it came on I’ve been looking for something to switch it to.”

“Get. It. Off.”

“Okay, Okay!”

The line went dead, there was a horrible electronic crackle sound from the car radio, and it immediately switched to Bad Moon Rising.

John groaned, then shook his head. “Thank you.”

“You got it.”

The other line was silent, so John slipped the radio back into its holster.

Nicolette sighed. “Sounds like it was an accident, it’s not like he did it on purpose. You wouldn’t have known it was even on if-”

“I just didn’t need that reminder of back then after today.”

She frowned as they pulled up towards the main driveway of the Ranch. “Did Nick say something?”

“No, he didn’t. Well, he did, but… not against me.”

She sighed, letting the rest of the ride go in silence until she parked the truck up front.

Cal, upon seeing that Uncle Sharky had been back home for a while, Cal tore out of the truck, ran over and launched himself at the man.

Sharky, ever the perfect uncle and former stand-in father, caught him around the middle and brought them both falling to the ground, laughing and insisting ‘aaah, you got me!’ all the while.

She watched them for a while until she realized John still hadn’t moved. She looked back at him.  “Talk to me.”

“It’s nothing,” he murmured.

“Hey.You’re the one that said no more lies,” she insisted. 

“Nick and I talked about… before. I just thought about what could have been if some meddling Deputy didn’t decide I was going to be a bargaining chip is all.”

“Ooooh. Been a long time since I’ve heard that word come out of your mouth.”  

John scoffed weakly, then sighed. “I would’ve been half dead or worse… thrown on the ground again, half dead, and… “ he was cut off when she leaned over to kiss him, and as per usual he melted right into it.

She pulled back. “Yeah, well thank God for the Tree Incident.”

He scoffed again. It was true. Things had changed with them because of a fucking tree.  Because she had fucked up and gotten stuck- a new spin on their cat and mouse game- she was the cat that literally got stuck in a tree,  but counted on him rescuing her just to play to his audience that consisted of her and her alone. She had manipulated the shit out of his interest in her that she had known about, and he had fallen for it. And that event had stayed his hand in killing her just as much as it had hers the second she tackled him to the ground on that hill and screamed at him to stop rather than shooting him in the chest like she should’ve. 

He had never really thought about it like that. He owed being alive wholly to Nicolette, but that damned tree was partially responsible, too.

It was awfully humbling to know that one owed their life to a tree. 

It was saying something that the damned tree had managed to stay standing in those seven years after the bombs. It was singed to all hell and dead, but still there, ever resilient. There was another metaphor in there somewhere, too. Now Earl was influencing him. He didn’t mind in the least.

“Now, do I get my husband back, or do we have to tell Sharky that he’s on babysitting duty until I knock some sense into you?” she touched her forehead to his.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to other methods of convincing,” he pointed out.

It was her turn to scoff. “You know that I know you’re deflecting, right?”

He sighed, then with some difficulty maneuvered her over to him so she was in his lap. He kissed her. “I love you.”

“Still deflecting.”

“Still love you,” he countered and leaned in again. He rolled his eyes when she drew back and pressed her fingers into his lips to silence him.

“You ended up worth it. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“I owe you my life,” John pointed out.

She smiled. “And I don’t intend on collecting. So stop thinking for once in your goddamn life you owe me.”

He sighed. “Fine,” he agreed. Then, wordlessly he looped an arm around her, pulled her flush against him, opened the car door and got out, holding her to him.

Nicolette let out a noise that was half alarm, half protest. “Right, because this is entirely inconspicuous.”

“Cal’s not gonna understand, and Sharky’s seen it and partaken enough to know what we’re about to be up to. So I like the babysitting plan,” John countered. “And I have to go thank my wife for my life, anyway.”

“ ‘Can’t think of anything more creative’ to say?” Nicolette countered, parroting what Addie had made her hypothetically think earlier in the day.

“Never heard a complaint out of you yet.”

They crossed the yard, waved off Sharky’s very knowing grin and eyebrow waggle as they made it into the house.

Once they got into their bedroom, John practically tossed Nicolette onto the bed. She laughed in response, then met him halfway when he moved to kiss her again. He pulled back after a few moments and got lost in thought again when she offered him a loving look. He wasn’t sure if it was the booze or having thought about the time before the Collapse earlier, but now everything wa in a different focus. Part of him had always loved his Deputy in some way shape or form since he had escaped his bunker the first time. But she was right, everything had changed in the span of minutes over a stupid mistake, and when he thought things had gone to shit, when Eden’s Gates had been closed, he had mourned the loss of one life but gained so much in a new life.

He was barely aware of her running her fingers through his hair before she resorted to tapping him on the forehead to gain his attention. He snapped out of it.

“What happened to no more thinking?”

John risked looking apologetic before he leaned in again- only to be pushed back lightly. He arched an eyebrow at her.

She sighed. “Alright, fine. Try this on for size, considering there’s no getting through to you otherwise tonight. Was gonna tell you this in a few days but now you clearly need the distraction. You sir, need to stop with the angsty introspective stuff because we’re gonna have another life around here before long, and I can’t have all that negativity around when we do.”

“‘Another li’…?”  John trailed off. Realization set in, doing exactly what she had counted on the news doing. He glanced down at her abdomen, then back up to her.

She beamed. “You’re gonna be a dad again.”

He blinked at her a couple of times, then immediately crushed his mouth to hers quickly, before the questions started piling up in his brain and he had to pull away to ask them.  “How far… when…?”

“Couple of months, so… if I’m doing the math right, our little uh… visit to the Yes sign.”

“… Addie is never finding out about that little detail. Or that that happened.”

“Oh God, no.”

“I’m gonna be a father again…” he murmured. His heart clenched. She was pregnant. They were going to have another child. Cal had turned out to be the best accident in his life. And now another miracle in its own right had happened. And this one was more or less planned, they were actually together and not on the brink of something that was still dotted with hatred. They were continuing the New World, helping it’s future. His family was going to grow. He was near beside himself. And then it hit him. The second moment of clarity in his life. He was in love, had people to love, and he was loved. And he was happy. This was pure, unadulterated happiness. The thought that Joseph was right again drifted into his head, but even that didn’t deter the absolute high he was on. It had taken him the better part of nearly eight years to realize it, but that’s what that feeling in his chest was that he couldn’t put his finger on because it was just short of unrecognizable. He had been robbed of it for so long, and here it was, staring him in the face. And just like he had on the kitchen floor all those years ago, he laughed- but now it was for an entirely different reason. The best reason. Unable to articulate anything else, he pulled her into another kiss.

Derived by fools, indeed.