#opd fanfic

[factorialsotherfandoms]

Mild spoilers up to end of opd7, I'm making up backstory! This fic would be set around about the time of AOP, but the other side of the city.

Johnny is two stacks deep into stolen and useless paperwork when he realises that he is hungry. Checking his watch he finds it a bit after four in the afternoon. With a yawn he stretches and - and, fuck, right, no stretching.

A spike of pain shifts through his chest, radiating from the stab wound on his side. It’s exactly for that reason he is doing paperwork and not leaving it to his partner. Maybe he should, though? They met three weeks ago and dumped on this undercover mission, and Johnny isn’t quite sure what the fuck he’s done since. Pulled some documents off a computer, stolen paperwork while Johnny distracts whomever is there, dug out coordinates from the internet to find them the target even… Little that could neither be done from home or by Johnny himself.

And, Johnny is sort of aware that he is being disingenuous - he knows he couldn’t have nor decode the files to actually find the coordinates, gotten that computer working, nor trick the security system into letting them inside, but, fuck, he thinks he deserves it. He knows, he knows it isn’t Rubens’ fault that his training is insufficient, or that his response to someone pulling a knife was to completely forget his gun and freeze up at the first sign of danger - that is, again, a nobody bothered to practice with him problem - but, fuck, even running would have been more useful.

One run in with a cultist, just one, and two weeks of trying to convince Rubens to look Johnny in the eye was lost to the younger man locking himself in his room.

Not that that is the biggest issue - of course it isn’t. The biggest issue is the glaring stab wound in Johnny’s side, him having pushed himself between the blade and Rubens’ lungs.

Sure, Johnny is supposed to be helping him with the gaps in his skills, but fuck, it’s hard when Rubens won’t speak to him, eyes Johnny nervously every time they’re in the same room, and hides himself in his room over coming to the living room where Johnny can tell him things - if Sam hadn’t asked quite so nicely that Johnny keep an eye on them, he might just have let him get stabbed.

He wouldn’t, he’d never just let someone  get stabbed - but, again, Johnny thinks he deserves to be a bit pissy right now.

The fact that the behaviour reminds him of some of the kids he grew up with? It doesn’t help much either. He was never much good at making them feel comfortable either.

Slowly he gets up, and keeps his torso carefully still as he goes to the kitchen. He absolutely missed lunch, and there’s still a while before dinner. He cannot reach all of the shelves without bending - standing was enough of a concession from the doctor Rubens had dragged him to, let alone bending - but there are a few.

Fridge is entirely empty, the first cupboard only has a bag of pasta… It’s enough pasta to finish out the week, but then they’ll need more shopping.

The next cupboard has some crackers and a pot of jam. It is only when he tries that Johnny remembers that he cannot reach up to them; he kicks the counter and a couple of bags of dried… apricots and pineapple from a bowl by the chopping board instead. Leaving them on the counter he goes to get himself a drink and-

And stubs his toe on a bag full of trash.

A bag of trash that he distinctly remembers reminding Rubens to take out, because the collection was at noon and Johnny couldn’t pick things up.

The next one isn’t for a while, and they cannot just have bags of trash lying around the apartment. There are other places to take it, of course, but with Johnny out of action…

He doesn’t want to talk to Rubens, not really, but… Well it cannot just stay there, can it?

Johnny abandons his snacks, and makes his way to Rubens’ room. 

At least the apartment doesn’t have fucking stairs this time around.

---

He knocks on Rubens’ door. Johnny is not really expecting a response - Rubens never says anything - but he knows to at least try.

Sure enough, there is some shuffling around - Rubens clearly heard - but no actual response. Johnny sighs and pushes open the door, ignoring the twinge in his side as he does. He is met by the sight of Rubens sitting at his desk, already spinning around as he slams his laptop shut.

The headphones only come off a few seconds after.

Johnny recognises the look of utter panic in Rubens’ eyes, one not dissimilar from the wide-eyed expression he had made when that cultist pulled out the knife. Receiving the same look as a cultist aiming to kill makes something in Johnny’s gut hurt, but not as badly as the stabbing he took for him.

“You forgot to take the trash out again.”

Rubens’ face shifts a bit, first to confusion then to something else entirely as he checks his phone. He runs a hand down his face, squishing his palms into his eyes. Johnny, doing his best to be patient, waits for him.

“Where?”

Really? Not even an apology? “Where what?”

Rubens gestures a bit, hiding a yawn in his elbow as he shakes his head a bit, “taking it?”

Right. Because if they just put it out now, they’ll be done for blocking the pavement; there’s not another collection for two weeks.

And Johnny has no fucking clue where Rubens comes from, or anything really, but he himself is at least local, “should be some collection boxes near the park. Park on the east side, and should be there.”

He gets a nod from Rubens, who drags his hands over his face again before levering himself up. Johnny just stands and watches - fuck moving even a little hurts - as Rubens grabs a jacket from a heap on the bed. 

Relatively sure that he is at least going to fix the fuck up, Johnny drags himself back to the couch. It is only after he sits down that he realises he left his lunch in the kitchen.

And, fuck.

He could get back up and get it, but… Just from standing in Rubens’ doorway it already feels a bit like getting stabbed all over again. So, it’s fine.

He’s fine.

He’ll just… settle in with some of the research. Look it over a bit more, delay until it’s late enough for an early dinner, and /then/ he’ll stand up again.

Behind him, he hears the front door slam shut.

At least the bins are actually getting taken out, then.

---

It is over an hour later that Rubens comes home, from what should have been a twenty minute job - maybe thirty if losing a tail. By the time the door to the apartment slams open and then shut, Johnny is past annoyed and deep into the worried territory. He waits for something to be called for him, a reassurance that this isn’t a home invasion, but nothing; just feet on the tiles, then clattering in the kitchen, and then another slamming door as he returns to his room.

Which, fine, it sounds like Rubens and calling would be more, not less, out of character.

Still, Johnny wishes he had been assigned literally anyone else to work with - or perhaps not put on this job at all. He hates undercover work, he hates the layers of games and pretence and story-weaving, and the months and months of work that can be ruined with a single wrong word.

And Johnny? He’s not /good/ with words; it’s one of the few things that he and Rubens seem to share.

He gives himself another few minutes of research, carefully still even as reads through another few printouts, before pulling himself back to his feet. And, fuck, his side strains at the movement, sharp pain rippling through him. It takes a few moments for Johnny to catch his breath before he actually heads towards the kitchen; someone needs to make dinner, and Johnny remembers what the fuck happened last time Rubens tried cook anything more complicated than microwave rice.

The kitchen is just the next room, but getting back there still takes some effort. One of the stools from the breakfast bar has been left near the fridge - Rubens must have been clambering on it to get something from the upper shelves, though hell only knows why he went up there since Johnny was last in here - and there are a couple of supermarket bags are on the countertop.

Bags, still containing items, because /someone/ could not be fucked to put them away.

But, Johnny tries to remind himself, at least Rubens thought to buy some. It does explain a bit of the clattering at least, and shows initiative. Johnny is sort of grasping for straws, but he doesn’t want to hate the guy he’s just… Failing to communicate.

Badly.

So fucking badly - it’s not even that communication is going wrong, it’s that it’s not fucking happening at all.

With dread in his stomach, Johnny pulls open the bags. If he’s left milk out… 

A quick check shows that at least the correct things have made it into the fridge - all crammed into either the drawer or the bottom shelf, but perhaps it is all Rubens can reach, with the milk in the door. Johnny would put the rest away, if he could reach that high right now.

He’ll make Rubens do it later. For now Johnny sorts through the bags, looking for something more interesting than pasta and peas.

There is enough food for another week. Maybe more, if they are conservative or, more likely, order pizza again. There seems to be nothing within Rubens’ skillset to cook, but everything is easily within Johnny’s. A hint, perhaps, that would be taken more happily if Johnny were not injured still; it’s not that Johnny minds cooking, he even enjoys it - it’s relaxing - it’s just that with a knife wound between his bottom two ribs it is a nightmare.

He’s not bitter, he’s just… He’s tired, and hurt, and somehow they have to keep this up for months. He knows the other man is new to this, and everyone has strengths and weaknesses, and that they’re both adjusting, but if he could show a little more concern about the fact he nearly fucking died! Or, better yet, that Johnny got a knife in the side protecting him from one in the lung. And Johnny gets it, he really does, he’s even used to it; he knows Rubens is a waif of a man while Johnny is built like a particularly intimidating block of flats. He knows that Rubens cows even from talking to /Sam/, but seriously. If he can’t dodge a knife, he’s a god-damned liability.

And more than Johnny doesn’t want to hate Rubens, he doesn’t want him /dead/.

To make things somehow worse, it also seems they’re in too much fucking shit too fast for Johnny to be able to do his job and train him, especially when Rubens makes no motions towards /wanting/ help. 

Johnny cannot help someone who won’t cooperate with him, and that’s the root of the fucking problem, isn’t it?

Next time, Johnny should just leave him here with the data - go deal with the leads himself, and just keep the man on call. It would be safer for both of them, if he doesn’t have to worry about Rubens, and Rubens doesn’t have to worry about knives. Having a gun is all well and good, but you need to keep steady enough to /use it/.

At least next time will not be for a while yet; Johnny isn’t so stupid as to charge in before his stitches are out, not if there is another option. Even if he was inclined to, they don’t exactly have a target. Even if they did, if they stumble into these assholes too often it will blow their cover. Even if it wasn’t… Well then someone else would be doing this shit, wouldn’t they?

There is nothing to be done right now, though, not about Rubens or about the mission, so he just… adds water to one of the saucepans, still on the drying rack, and places it on the hob. He pushes the stool over to where he can sit on it and cut vegetables, tossing two people’s worth pasta into the water before turning on the heat.

As that comes to the boil he grabs a random selection of vegetables from the grocery bag, peeling and chopping them into another pan. The peeler and wooden spoon had also been left out, cleaned but then left on the chopping board; only two people live in the apartment, and Johnny knows that he is not the one to blame.

Tomato paste, spices, some already portioned out mince-meat from the restocked fridge… Johnny does not have the energy to do more than throw it in the pan, but if it cooks it cooks.

About halfway through he remembers the salt for the pasta. Cursing, he throws in a random amount, and hopes for the best.

It does not take long for everything to be done. Johnny calls for Rubens to come get food as he drains the pasta, splitting it between two bowls before adding the sauce. Both go on the breakfast bar - already laid out with cutlery when Rubens did the washing up - and he waits.

And he waits.

And he eats his own dinner, only to find that Rubens still has not appeared.

It is not exactly unusual for Rubens not to eat with Johnny, but usually he at least appears to grab things and take them to his room, then an hour later to get the washing up done. When Johnny cooks, Rubens washes up. When Rubens cooks… Rubens also washes up, because he only gets to cook if Johnny is incapacitated.

Like most of the last week.

And Johnny isn’t worried, not exactly, he doubts the other man is stupid enough to have gotten shot buying groceries and tried to hide it, but… Well, he cannot help it a little bit. No matter how tense things are in the house, Johnny doesn’t /want/ shit to happen to him.

Rubens probably just had headphones on, again, and decided to worry Johnny by not hearing him.

Slipping down from the high stools is much kinder on his side than standing up from the sofa. It does not take even a minute to cross over to Rubens’ room and knock.

No answer.

Definitely worried now - Rubens does know better than to put the volume so high as to not hear him this close, and Johnny knows this is normal enough but he cannot even hear him moving or typing or anything and- and Johnny opens the door.

Rubens is sprawled out on his desk, slumped onto his keyboard. For a moment Johnny panics about being found, about something worse happening, until… No, he’s just asleep. Nobody broke in and hurt them, he’s just asleep.

Johnny… he means to just go and wake him, to drag him down to eat /something/, even if it’s some of the fruit and not the pasta, when his eyes catch on the desk.

… The fuck?

There’s a selection of fruits, each slashed open - some neatly, some not - and about half pulled back together with butterfly stitches, or sticky gauze pads. Not from their actual emergency kit, but from another and new one - the bag is blue not green - that Rubens did not tell him about. There’s bandages, too, hanging loosely from Rubens’ arm - there’s no injury beneath them that Johnny can see, just… awkwardly tied bandages?

… Practising maybe…?

Glancing up implies that might even be true; open on the laptop and still playing into Ruben’s headphones, a woman in a paramedic’s uniform is demonstrating the recovery position. Two videos ago in the playlist is one on stab wounds.

Ah.

Johnny looks at Rubens again, notices the dark bruises under his eyes. Now that he thinks about it… Three nights ago when Johnny needed help with the bandages coming undone and texted him, Rubens had been there far too fast - and awake - to have been asleep. That had been at 5am, an hour Rubens had before their ‘field trip’ called an impossible hour.

Was he not sleeping?

Was this…

Johnny reassesses; every good agent needs to be able to reassess, to be able to admit that sometimes you’re just fucking wrong. 

If Rubens is tired because he has not slept enough, that explains him forgetting the trash. But then why wouldn’t he sleep? He certainly had not been having problems with that /before/ the last mission, and it wasn’t like he was the one up all night from the pain of a stab wound… But the video, so… Was Rubens, what, worried? But then why… Surely first aid stuff is easier on other people? Johnny only knows the very basics, but practising bandages with only one hand sounds like a nightmare. Why would Rubens do it alone?

… Because even if Rubens is worried, Johnny is still intimidating. Johnny knows what he is, and it’s neither welcoming nor friendly. And, he is not exactly in the best mood right now. Indeed, he’s in a pretty fucking shit one, helped by the hour on the couch but only so much. First aid videos are not Rubens training himself not to get hit, but… It’s something. It’s looking for how to fix the consequences of failure, even if Rubens should really be looking for how not to fail in the first place.

Or perhaps that, too, is unkind - with wrists like his, Johnny doubts Rubens can take to the punching bags without hurting himself. Not without guidance, at least. Guidance which he’s too… awkward, scared, antisocial? To ask for.

And maybe this isn’t what Johnny would want from him… But it’s something, isn’t it?

Why do people have to be so damned complicated?

Trying to be a little gentle, Johnny shakes Rubens’ shoulder. It takes a moment but the younger man uncurls himself, and stretches, and yawns.

The cracks along his spine sound unpleasant.

The noises Rubens make as he blinks himself awake - clearly exhausted, now Johnny is looking for it - are unintelligible. After a bit of confused blinking, he finally manages a “Hm? Need me?”

“Food’s ready.”

No reply, but Rubens does kick back and ease himself to standing. It’s then that he seems to notice his laptop was left open, quickly slamming the lid down before… hesitating. Watching Johnny.

Does he pretend or not?

Johnny’s never been much for pretending.

“Can’t take you to the gym right now, but I can be a practice doll if you want,” he says. “Even got a stab wound if you want to give that a go.”

Rubens’ arms cross defensively over himself, “don’t joke about that.”

It’s possibly the most words Rubens has said in a go to him.

It is also not a no.

“Sure,” Johnny shrugs instead, trying his best to look like a man who hasn’t killed too many people to count with his hands alone.“There’s pasta on the side for you. If it’s cold, the microwave is there.”

“Thanks,” Rubens’ hands linger over the laptop for a minute, before he hesitantly raises it in a fist. “Like this?”

Johnny takes a moment to realise what is going on, then looks at it. It’s not… the best, but it’s better than what he’d been doing previously. “Almost. I can show you in the morning?”

A nod, but not a lot more. Rubens still looks… tense? Tense might be the right word, but they’ve never been Johnny’s speciality.

What is it, what is it… Ah. Right. Johnny might be the stabbed one, but Rubens was clearly /trying/ to hide what he was studying for whatever fucking reason. The fist shape feels like an offering, so how does Johnny accept if not in offering to fix it…

Fuck, why didn’t they assign anyone else to this mission? Johnny is not cut out for this mentoring thing.

“Err…” What is the problem… Oh, right, obviously. Needing help fucking sucks. “After that, could you show me how to not get viruses when I’m checking SD cards we find? I don’t want to take my laptop in for repairs /again/.”

“Sure,” Rubens’ tone is a little odd, and Johnny gets the distinct impression he is being laughed at. Or, perhaps, he’s just not seen Rubens relax before.

“... We good?”

Rubens gives him a thumbs up, before pushing past him and through to the kitchen.

At this point, Johnny will take it.

[theknaveedits]

Capas feitas este fim de semana~

Créditos a Tenartist, Chiviscorpse pelas fanarts nas capas de Naruto.

Restantes artes originais dos seus respetivos universos.

Se inspirar, credite <3

[gothkaiser]

✐ o príncipe e o pesqueiro ; olivier + milo

arte: @marsealnz

[wangxianficfinder]

Hello, not sure if this has been asked before or if this is the right place to ask, but do you have recommendations for which ebook reader apps are best for downloading and organising fics? It will be best if I can sort and save fics into different categories, and is there is some form of cloud storage/sync available. I use an android device and download fics in epub format. Thank you for your help!

Hello! I probably won't be most helpful with this but for the few fanfics stored in my phone I use eBoox app. You can sort your epubs into shelves in it. But I rarely use it for reading fanfics haha

~Mod L

--

dottie-wan-kenobi: Calibre might have an android app, I use it with my computer and (i)phone and it’s very nice 🙏

gentil-minou: I use moonreader! You can add custom categories and ao3 fic summaries/tagging also show up in the systems summaries by default. There's also a lot of customization. It's been so long since I used the free version but i remember it being good too!

latitudeoctopus: I use readera which you can even put things in collections or seires add reviews and tag if you've read them etc.

the-sleepy-archivist: I use PocketBook (on iOS but it has an Android version). If you use Calibre + FanFicFare to back up fics on your computer or to Dropbox, it can access Calibre’s OPDS catalog too, so you can browse your whole library without having to download all of it to your phone at once first. PocketBook supports audiobooks too if you download podfics

mreisse: Another vote for calibre on PC and Moon+ Reader Pro on android phone. You can sync to an online directory and the calibre extensions (epub merge and I forget the fanfic downloader extension that makes anthologies AND auto updates your epubs when you trigger the update) where was I? Oh yes, Calibre for a full on library on your PC (with tagging, collections, virtual libraries and syncing, even a portable version you install on a USB) and Moon+ Reader Pro on Android /PS even without the Calibre managed library, I have 534 epubs downloaded from ao3 in my phone, arranged in folders. For the record only 30% is Wangxian fic ahahahahaha

[koterkot]

explain the entirety of pluto lore in one comprehensive tumblr post. GO!!!!!!

ok so first of all fuck you Second of all- Pluto is a gieeg oc of mine, here's a old reference sheet i made for them in ms paint because that is somehow my main art program:

(tw: comedical usage of the f slur. i'm sorry gay people.)

[* Due to the gieeg mothership that Pluto has lived in for most of his life having like, weird time dilating shit, a gieeg year is roughly 5 human years. (HIS ASS IS 80 YEARS OLD DURING MOTHER 1!!!! HI GRANDPA!!!!!) ? I just picked random numbers and that's now his birthday in the gieeg calendar that has like 50 days and 50 months lma-]

SSOOO COUGH COUGH IGNORE THE SHITTY ART I SWEAR THAT I HAVE IMPROVED ANYWHOS- Pluto's story is simple, he was born in the mothership with two disorders, being them SPD (Selfharming Psionic Disorder) and OPD (Overwhelming Psionic Disorder) together with the bonus addition of The Tism. Raised in the Mothership of their species, their mother Eris is one of Giegue's strongest troops, and is mostly absent from Pluto's life as she is too busy beating the shit out of alien scum on other planets that Giegue plans to conquer.

[credits to thealmightyven for cooking this shit up, this was her first drawing and ofc the first thing she does is ask pluto if he's a queer] COUGH COUGH WHEEZE AAND THEN THERE'S CERES!!! HIS DAD!!!

(AALSO OLD ART AND STUPID SKETCH BLEUGH) he works for marketing giegue as like this super cool warlord when in reality he's just a traumatized teenager that got weaponized because he's really fucking strong and stuff OH!! OHH!!! SPEAKING OF GIEGUE!!! wait no nevermind we need to touch on pluto's childhood first uhhh uhhh Pluto basically got bullied a LOT as a kid. Last one to get picked for everything, always made fun of due to their lack of tail and inability to use PSI without physically and mentally straining themselves. Sooo... What did Pluto do??? Shut himself away from the outside world, watch their dad's massive collection of holotapes full of movies and tv shows and cartoons and shit

[ANOTHER OLD ASS DOODLE RRAGGGH!!!!] AND LIKE!! THEY LIVED BY THEMSELVES AND THEIR DAD FOR A VERY LONG TIME!!! Until... BBOOM!!! A good while after Pluto's 16th birthday, and 2 days after their last check up on their psionitrist, (doctor specialized in psionics and shit) THE FEDS PULL UP AT CERES' DOOR!!! AND THEY CALL FOR!!! PLUTO!!!

ok so cutting a long story short pluto has like a FUCK ton of psi, and like, the same level as giegue's, soo he basically is supposed to get drafted into their army but unfortunately he has SPD in which has no distinct treatment, sooo their best solution to fix up pluto was to SEND HIM TO THE BIG BOSS!!! GIGAGAS!!!

resuming a entire fanfic's worth of gay tension they eventually come to one conclusion

AAND NOW PLUTO HAS HIS FIRST FRIEND!! EVER!!! using the insane confidence boost of being the Commander of All Gieegkind's best friend (secretly boyfriend), Pluto goes from "loser dork town mayor" to "COOLEST GUY IN TOWN!!! YEAH!!!"

this helps pluto form a few friendships, and by a few i mean like 6 people (probably more than you have anon. HAHA!!) this relationship with giegue though, lasts for only 2 years before it is permanently ruined by giegue's first invasion onto earth. and his loss. i'll touch more on that later on my SECOND POST!!! (YES!!! THERE WILL BE PLURAL POSTS!!) that'll cover what happens to pluto after the events of mother 1 and during mother 2 and stuff BUH BYE!!

[mirtifero]

Eu podia falar muito da minha época de AOP especialmente porque foi no final de 2021 e esse foi o meu período transitório quanto aos meus interesses e eu em geral aksjqkwj

Tipo eu hoje em dia não tenho paciência pra assistir AOP, mas na época eu tinha ESPECIFICAMENTE porque eu tinha ACABADO de (forçadamente por mim mesmo) sair do meu hiperfoco em m*yt então eu tava acostumado a ficar com lives de plano de fundo. E eu tava na aula online ainda então eu ficava com os vods de plano de fundo KKKKK

Aí quando OPD acabou eu acabei perdendo o hype porque ehh eu não tenho energia pra isso akakakak

Mas fun fact! Eu não gostava muito de fanfic antes do fandom de AOP. É culpa de eu ter lido uma fic no twitter "ironicamente" pela "piada" de "hahaha lendo fanfic". Nunca mais fui o mesmo. Aquela porra de fanfic foi meu novo hiperfoco dentro do meu hiperfoco eu tava surtando.

[moodmusicmonday]

Hit play, and bookmark these FABULOUS upcoming stories! Big thank you to our writers for sharing their music inspos! 💜

@arosentinel

“Bottom of the River” - Delta Rae; Running From The Waters (TRR; Liam x MC)

“Happier Than Ever” - Billie Eilish; Happier Than Ever (TRR; Liam F!OC; F!OC x F!OC)

@ao719

“Walk Through the Fire” - Zayde Wølf ft. Ruelle; The Duchess, Ch 13: Walk Through the Fire (TRR; Liam x F!OC)

@karahalloway

“That’s the Kind of Love I’m In” - Jace Everett; (Less Than) Noble Intentions, Bonus Chapter: Drive [TRR; Drake x OC (Harper Gale)]

@kat-tia801

“Mayday” - Wild Rivers; Mayday [TRR; Drake Walker x MC (Alaina Gold)]

“Them Dirty Bones” - Mike Waters; Undeniable, Part 1: I’ll Stay Settled Here, I’m Certain (TRR; M!OC x F!OC; Drake Walker x MC; Liam Rys x F!OC)

“How to Be Yours” - Chris Renzema; How to Be Yours (OPH; Ethan Ramsey x F!OC)

@socalwriterbee

“Mercy” - Brett Young; TBD [OPD; Ethan Ramsey x MC (Tessa Martinez)]

“Hawai” - Maluma; TBD [TNA; Sam Dalton x MC (Marie Castro)]

@txemrn

Pour Two Glasses, Ch. 2: "One Breath Apart" (TRR; Liam x MC, Drake x MC)

Series Inspo: "Pour Two Glasses" - The Movielife

Chapter Inspo: "Speak to Me" - Amy Lee

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Tags (please let us know if you'd like to be added/removed):

@alj4890 @ao719 @arosentinel @aussiegurl1234 @axwalker @burnsoslow @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @foreverethereal123 @jerzwriter @karahalloway @kat-tia801 @lovingchoices14 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @queenrileyrose @quixoticdreamer16 @sfb123 @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @twinkleallnight @txemrn @walkerdrakewalker @zaffrenotes

[cyanoscarlet]

number 11? maybe even 16? for the ask game :)

Thanks for the ask!

11. If I’m showing off just one of your pieces to someone, which one should it be?

Goodness, I'm torn on this one!

I'll go with take heart, for now. It was basically another attempt at "mortal falls in love with a god" (previously done with "on nights such as these" for YOI), but better executed. I was also able to use a lot of the symbolisms and parallels well for this story, so color me proud!

16. 3 favorite comments ever received on fanfic?

I'm literally scrolling through my AO3 inbox for this and crying, WHY YOU DO THIS TO ME, I CAN'T CHOOSE WTF

@eternal-aegis spoils me a lot on this front uwu, and I swear I am forever grateful for this. She described my Ron Kamonohashi fic (sugar-free) to have a certain "muted spice", and this changed my whole viewpoint on writing NSFW in general. Back then I was really frustrated at not knowing how to write smut, but now I'm happier with my brand of NSFW because of this comment. (That's Heat Levels 1-2 for you RomanceClass peeps, with lots of small throwaway lines and sexy fade-to-blacks. Hehe.)

EK/ekmisao's comments on my stuff are also sweetest. This one from my SKK fic exchange fic (oneiric moments) literally had me crying after OPD because I was absolutely exhausted then, and to be told that I and what I did mattered (the doctoring, as well as the writing) helped me get through 2020 and much of 2021. Yes, I am indeed sentimental.

Kris/Ashbear's reviews on my Where I Belong fics really meant a lot to me, not just for sentimental value. (This one's for Time-Telling, my main entry.) These were back in 2012 when I was still only starting out writing fanfiction, so having one of the good writers in the fandom write reviews several paragraphs long really boosted my confidence then. I'd like to believe I've grown quite a lot since then, of course!

More fic writing questions!

[thewellqueen]

Stun Traps - Paragon Fanfic

Based on Murdock’s Lore: Once suspended by Lt. Belica for hiding stun traps in the lavatory.

Maybe it was the dual wielding fool whose influence inspired Murdock to pull the prank. He wasn't even sure himself but he thought it would be hilarious. Not only did the stun traps go in the men’s restroom, he also snuck into the woman's to do the same.

He carefully placed them so whoever used the toilet would had to have sat down before the trap triggered. He hid around the corner of the restrooms and waited to see who had to go. To his dismay he watched as Lt. Belica was walking to the door. She was the last person he wanted to get caught in his little prank.

He was left with the decision to stop her from going in or run. He started to sweat bullets as he tried to decided but it was too late. The yell of some choice works brought him back to reality.

It was too late.

Murdock’s decision was made. He ran from the scene of the crime.

It wasn't long until Lt. Belica found him hiding near the OPD building. She pointed her rifle at him, “Don’t you dare move…”

Murdock put his hands in the air, “Look it w-”

“Shut up.” Belica hissed, “Two weeks suspension.”

“What? All for-”

Belica shot a round near his feet, “Three weeks!”

“O-ok!” Murdock swallowed the lump in his throat, “Three weeks….got it.”

“Effective immediately after you disarm any other traps…” She lowered her rifle, “Got it?”

“Got it, sir.” Murdock sighed as he watched her return to the OPD building. How did she know it was him? He made sure no one was watching him!

As he made his way back to the OPD to disarm the traps he watched as Twinblast strolled out of the building with two OPD officers escorting him. He had a smug look on his face.

“It was you!” Murdock yelled at him.

Twinblast looked over at him and laughed. Murdock growled as he ran towards him. The fool used his rocket dash to get away but it wasn't going to stop Murdock from chasing him. The fool was going to pay for ratting him out.

[factorialsotherfandoms]

Small scene, au in which the characters go home to get dinner instead of eating on mission during opd episode 11, and that's all I'll save above the cut...

It's still late, or perhaps inhumanly early. Erin's grandfather has long since gone to bed, leaving them free to make use of the kitchen and the sofa. It has been some time since Luciano was here, but he still remembers his way around well enough.

He cannot be doing with milk, so he throws hot water over expensive but instant hot chocolate, stirs it a bit, then brings the two mugs through to the living room.

Erin is right here he left her, sat on the sofa and staring at her hands. When she looks up, the blanket over her shoulders slips. Luciano hands her her mug, then tugs it back up.

"Thank you," she whispers. Quietly, too quietly.

Luciano sits with her, flicking the tv on and turning the volume low. Some football match reply - it'll do.

"It's fine," he tells her. "Don't worry about it."

Erin looks back down at her mug. Luciano follows her gaze, eyes narrowing as her fingers flex back and forth against the porcelain.

"It's okay now, Erin," he tells her, doing his very best to be gentle. "We're home."

Air is sucked in through her teeth, and Luciano knows it is not quite the right thing to say.

"It's not okay, Lu, it's never okay," she tells him, still quiet, now hiccuping, but turning on him. "Either I can't speak to you, or you think there is danger. So. Which is it, Lu? Are we safe or not?"

"Neither," he tells her. "Just with everything that happened… Calming down is hard right now."

She looks at him for barely a moment before flopping against his side, tears smearing the dust on her face. It's unusually quiet for Erin, but then she has never wanted people to know she can cry.

"I've got you, Erin," he says, as though his own heart is not sundered in two, as though he is not also grieving, as though there is no deep heartache keeping Fernando away. "I know it hurts; you've just got to fight through."

Erin reaches out one hand, clinging to the shirt Fernando chose that morning.

"I miss you," she says. "Fernando is my friend, I would miss him too, but you're my best friend, Luciano. With grandma, and Tristan-"

A sob breaks over Erin's lips, and Luciano gives her the hug she seems to want. He holds her tight, and pretends their attention is on the football highlights the tv is showing.

He sips his drink and, as the tears dry, nudges Erin into drinking hers.

"Be careful," she asks of him. "Please, Lu, be careful; I cannot lose you too."

"You won't," he promises her.

"That's what grandma said, too."

Sometimes, Luciano forgets just how much younger Erin is. With her bombs and laughter and her constant forwards motion - it's not that she's too young for this, it is perhaps that he is too old.

But, he doesn't think he's ever seen her so ruined before. It's something he's used to, but that she is not; they haven't lost anyone this close to them in a long time - even Erin's grandma only vanished, they did not watch her die.

"When he's awake, Fernando will make you popcorn," he tells her.

She does laugh that time, wet as it is. And then, more serious, "I'd rather stay with you."

And that isn't possible, not forever.

But for now… it hurts enough, that Fernando stays asleep. A little while longer. He can stay a little while longer.

Erin needs him, after all, and he needs her; she's his best friend, too, and only alone-together do they remember how to grieve.

[partywillsblog]

Oakdale : University Atwt Online Written Spin-Off FanFic Season 6 Episode 20 ” Spring Madness ” Pt.6/6 April 18 , 2017 Scene :: A woman with blonde locks and jungle red lipstick while wearing a fashionable spring attire cocktail dress and red stilleto pumps appears to enter the LakeView .. Lisa Grimaldi feels a chilly air about this new stranger. . Lisa : Welcome to LakeView , how may we help you today ? The mystery woman slyly smirks . Signing her name on the guest book as Dede .. Meanwhile .. Andy Dixon sneaks into the OPD ( Oakdale Police Dept ) to confront Damian Grimaldi * Damian embraces this moment * Damian : Andy .. What can I do for you ?! Andy : Tell me Damian ..what the hell is it going to take to make you save Bob Hughes from his comatose state ?! * Damian reaches his hands clasping against the cold bars he's in * Damian : Bring me my wayward daughter I share with that blonde trouble maker Mitzi ! ** Andy is shocked ** The afternoon gets crazy for the Snyder's when Commisioner Margo Hughes reports to Holden and his wife Molly that Meg Snyder is missing .. Holden suspects foul play .. Finally .. Frannie Hughes catches up to her mother Kim Hughes upset for her betryal .. Frannie : You aren't going anywhere .. You betrayed our family by working for that monster Damian Grimaldi .. " Out with it mother ..what does he have on you ?! " * Kim sheds tears * Kim : Oh Frannie , it's your sister .. Sabrina ..she's alive ! Damian offered to bring her back to us if we follow his demands ! * Frannie loses it * Frannie : Oh my god mother ..you just cursed us all (( FADE OUT )) Song playing on radio .. My Eyes Adore You. . * Special Guest * Dede played by Sarah Paulson Join us for NEW EPS APR 22,2017 https://partywillsonlinepublications.wordpress.com/2017/04/18/oakdale-university-atwt-online-written-spin-off-fanfic-season-6-episode-20-spring-madness-pt-66-april-18-2017/

[factorialsotherfandoms]

Major spoilers for osnf and opd! 3 true drabbles, I am not lying about the major spoilers.

There is a spiral made in white.

His friends are the only thing in colour, but one by one they flee. He wants them to run, to escape the spiral, to leave him behind.

There is a spiral made in white; at its centre is a god.

His hands are his hands. Once they were held, and now they are not.

There is a spiral made in white; he knows that this god is not a god.

His hands are still his hands.

Thiago Fritz looks death in the eyes, he presses a button, and the world explodes in flames.

---

Her mother's hair, her mother's neck, the pain through her chest... No, no, give her her mother back - give her her mother, /please/, she just...

Her mother's hair, her face hidden in her mother's neck, gentle lips pressed to a temple undeserving of the gentleness. Liz gasps for air, and sobs, and the pain comes all over again.

She does not get to say it, whatever she meant to say; she tries to breathe, she wills herself for another moment-!

And, she fails.

Elizabeth Webber is alive, and then she is dead, and that is all there is to it.

---

Except, that then she wakes up. There is nothing, and there is everything, eternity shifting around her even as she lays on the grass. She sits, and looks, and does not see them.

"Joui!" she calls. "Joui! Arthur! Cesar! Where are you?"

She remembers and she does not remember, she knows and she does not know.

And then there is a man, a man she knows.

"Thiago?"

He pulls her into a hug; she sobs into his neck.

"I'm sorry, Liz, I'm so sorry."

But it does not matter now - their hands are their hands, and they are being held.

[factorialsotherfandoms]

OPD spoilers up to the end of episode 7, because episode 7 was fun but brain insisted on a couple of thoughts before I can move on (or, apparently, work on thing I was supposed to upload today). Injury warnings, spoiler warnings, and talk about potential death, and also er I've had these characters for one episode running on auto-translated-auto-subtitles. You will pry them from my cold-dead hands, but it's not exactly the best way to study things like speech patterns, especially when my Portuguese is... I can now catch the gist of things and follow the rpg mechanics mostly, but very very far from me being able to use any words? I just kinda can sort of follow via context and stuff I /recognise/ but don't /remember/. Enough rambling, have two guys in a car.

"Where to now?" Johnny asks, as they drive away. "You're the one with the maps."

A groan.

Johnny glances up, checks his partner in the rear-view mirror. Some of his muscles still shift in ways Johnny is pretty sure aren't entirely voluntary, and Rubens holds his entire body like it is in pain. Still, he gives half of a shrug, and keeps looking out of the window.

Johnny is also sore, yes, especially from having been immobilised - but he's /not/ the one whose breathing sounds kind of janky, and hissed when the seatbelt touched his ribs.

"That bad?" He adjusts his question to, glancing up from the road every few seconds.

"Just head home," Rubens answers the first question instead of the second. "We can pick in the morning."

"What morning? It's already gone seven," Johnny takes the turning towards their flat regardless. A pause and then. "You sure you're good just to go home?"

Yes, they need to continue the investigation, but even Johnny can see that Rubens can barely stand; no matter what help they wanted to give those two other agents, it wasn't going to happen.

"What-" Rubens is cut off, hissing, as they go over a bump.

"Yeah, you know what, driver's rules - we're going to the hospital."

Rubens' lack of reply, not even a grimace, is pretty damning. It is also a little worrying, especially with the flinches and extremely deliberate breathing.

It is not that Johnny is paranoid, it's that he knows what that attack did to Johnny himself, and he's gained a decent feel for Rubens' tolerance over the last few months.

He takes the turn towards the hospital, and already starts constructing a lie. Rubens can probably pass for an electrician, and Johnny could have just been helping, and maybe someone turned the mains back on before they were finished? That's got to happen all of the time, right?

"Do you think we'll see them again?" Johnny asks, searching for a conversation topic. He's got to keep driving, but he is more than starting to get worried. "No clue what's up with the boy, but they seemed decent. Good to know the Order's always got people."

Rubens' laugh isn't very happy, "no."

"I thought you were an optimist?"

"Your job," Rubens shifts, seemingly trying to alleviate some discomfort, and only making it worse. "I'd like to, but… you saw them. Injured, electrocuted, and going to where their team went dark? They won't survive. We might not."

It's true, but that doesn't mean he has to say it. There's been a lot of deaths, recently, if what Sam has been telling them is true. Johnny isn't sure, but can't see any reason for Sam to lie about that; Johnny and Rubens have been undercover for months, but have managed to keep themselves above water so far.

A lot of people haven't, though. A great many people haven't.

"You left them your knife," Rubens follows up with.

"Shut up and sort through that notebook instead."

"No." At least he's perked up a little, actually sounding a bit more awake, thinking and shifting a little and worrying his lip before he speaks again. "Maybe they'll surprise me and you'll get it back? Can't read the notebook. The bag is in the boot."

Neither of them comment on how, usually, Rubens would still just lean over and grab it.

"Maps, then?"

He makes a left turn, and they find themselves nearly there.

"They're maps," Rubens replies. "We need the notes to work on a target... Gameshow, orphanage, orphanage, gameshow, Menefreda, puzzles, Energy... I can't see the link; do you think there's any crossover in the cases? Should we ask Samuel for their notes? Something's missing here."

"Can't be sure," Johnny has to focus on this bit of road, busier than the further out streets. "We can ask, though."

"And the girl? Erin? She said the woman's voice was-" Rubens cuts off with a gasp.

Immediately Johnny looks up, checking over his shoulder. Rubens' back is arched and he struggles for air; he shoves on his hazard lights and pulls over before unplugging his seatbelt, and inelegently scrambling across.

By the time he has done so, Rubens' body has relaxed. He has leant back, breathing heavily and clutching at his chest. Johnny places a hand on his back, rubbing a thumb into the twisted muscles there.

"Rubens?" Johnny asks, voice lower. "You good?"

The shudder looks just as involuntary, but a little more normal; Rubens leans slowly forwards, resting only one elbow on his knee, and folding his chin onto it.

One moment, two.

Rubens starts gesturing a reply, only to cut himself off with a wince.

"An answer, please," Johnny keeps his voice low, doing his best to be reassuring.

"I'm good," he answers, blinking fast as he shifts to looking at his hands. "I'm... Good, yes, good. Just, fuck, the speed bump."

Johnny had barely even noticed it; Rubens has got to be much more injured than he looks to react that badly to just a speed bump.

"I'll be more careful," he promises, though he isn't quite sure how. "Good to keep going? We're another ten minutes out, looking at this traffic."

"All good."

It is not quite believable, given everything going on, but Johnny chooses to let it pass. He knows shit all about these things, only that his partner is suffering. He's also suffering, but he's Johnny - he can take it.

Rubens... Not so much. Not really his skill-set; Johnny doesn't jump in the way of fists because he enjoys getting punched, after all.

Choosing to climb back over instead of getting out, Johnny only slightly catches his ankle on the gear-stick. Still, he gets back to the driver's seat safely, turns off the hazard lights, and pulls back into the road.

"Any thoughts so far?" he asks instead.

Johnny can put pressure on a gunshot wound just fine, but electricity is weird. Magic electricity? Even weirder. He does, however, know that so long as everyone is managing coherent conversation he /probably/ can just drive to the hospital instead of faffing with an ambulance.

(Don't they have their own doctor now? Johnny isn't quite sure, but he does know that contacting the Order, outside of secure and prearranged chats with Samuel, is likely to break their cover.)

Rubens shifts his face from side to side, mouthing words to himself and gesturing his hand around in a much more typically Rubens fashion. After a little while he shrugs - only with one shoulder and that's something to make the doctor check - and answers, "hopefully the paperwork is more useful to us; I don't think the Director was actually anyone important. Show, Director, he only does this one bit most likely? And only had, what, five staff members?"

"Barely a crew," Johnny replies. "I don't like the thing with Erin's grandmother - she's definitely not any of the corpses. None were old enough. So why was her voice there?"

"The man too," Rubens replies. "You shouldn't have told them we were Order agents; the cameras were running. Whoever runs it might have heard."

"Shit," Johnny can immediately see the problem but, to be fair, in the moment that had been far from his highest priority. Getting the grenade out already blew more of his cover than either of them liked - he should have just stolen the gun and tried shooting the glass. "We can adapt, but..."

"Danger," Rubens replies. "We'll need to be more careful, right?"

"Right," and, fuck, Johnny has been here before. "We might need to be subtler to get in."

"Games," Rubens replies.

"Hm?"

"He likes games. If we-" another speedbump, and Rubens gasps again, entire body twisting at the pain, but he settles himself quickly, moving on. "Fuck. But, if we do get in... it might be to play with us specifically. If the recording got through. Champion's match. New difficulty."

"Maybe the information we have will be enough?"

The look Rubens gives him is absolutely scathing.

"Yeah, okay, they weren't important enough to have anything actually good. I can wish, though; don't really want to be watching over my shoulder forever."

"It could work in our favour," Rubens settles on. "We need to get into deeper areas anyway. Toying, playing - if we interested whatever's in charge, perhaps it will bring us deeper to try again."

"They're deathtraps."

"But somebody always has to win. It's a bad game, otherwise."

Two people could have won the game they were playing, if they stuck to the rules, or perhaps there would have been more to it. Johnny doesn't expect them to be that generous again, though.

Ah, well, they'll work it out.

They always do.

---

It is not that much further to the hospital, and 7:30am is a blissfully quiet time. Most people from the night before have already left, but it's too early for most sorts of accidents.

Parking is easy, but getting out is more difficult. Well, no, Johnny can get out fine - stiff and weirdly cramping, but fine. It's Rubens he worries about, Rubens who scoots rather than steps out of the car, and still almost immediately collapses to the floor.

The concern - the /worry/ - is back nearly instantly.

"Ow, fuck, shit," Rubens mutters, in between the curse words as he uses the side of the car to leverage himself up.

Yeah, no, that is not going to stand. Johnny comes back over, taking the one of Rubens' arms that he isn't holding strangely, and pulling it over his shoulders. His own arm he wraps around his partner's back, protecting him from any potential falls.

When he squeezes his fingers, Rubens hisses; Johnny shifts them further down with an apology on his tongue.

"It's fine."

It's not fine.

The angle is awkward, so Johnny much crouch a bit as he helps Rubens to the emergency room. Even with the help and the rest he still keeps staggering and stumbling, his legs barely able to hold his weight.

The reception desk is even worse. By the time they get there, Johnny is supporting all of Rubens' admittedly meager weight.

"Hey," he says, reminding himself she may be the gatekeeper but if he isn't polite then they are both in trouble. "Sorry, we were doing some repair work, and some asshole turned the mains back on while we were working. I'm just kinda sore, but my buddy's having trouble breathing."

Always mention the breathing. They hate it when you cannot breathe properly.

Her eyes flicker momentarily wider, looking at the now disturbingly grey Rubens.

"Names, please?"

"I'm Johnny Tabasco, this is Rubens Naluti."

Rubens seems to try to smile and wave, only to grimace and flinch instead.

A few more questions follow - dates of birth, occupations, next of kin, particularly concerning symptoms... Rubens says unusually quiet, getting slowly heavier against Johnny's side.

Eventually, the questioning comes to an end.

"Please go sit down, and fill in these forms," two clipboards are handed to Johnny. Right. Insurance paperwork and medical history - at least he knows enough of Rubens' to fill it in, after so long doing this work together. "Someone will likely be with Mr Naluti shortly, though you yourself will likely have to wait longer. We're not overly busy, but there are still a few incidents already."

"Thank you," and oh, Christ, he's just glad to be able to get Rubens off his feet.

They end up on the plastic chairs, Rubens flinching at it.

"You alright?" Johnny asks him.

There are a good number of fast blinks before Rubens nods, "let's not repeat this, though."

"Sure thing."

Rubens' hand (and only one hand, the other stays at his side) shakes badly as he starts filling in his form - the simple bits like address he leaves just in case, and starts with his medical insurance details. Allergies, pre-existing conditions... Rubens is doubling back to fill in his basic details when a doctor appears.

"Mr Naluti?"

"Here," he raises his clearly good hand.

"If you would come with me, please?" she asks.

He glances to her, to the gap between them, and then to Johnny. Johnny goes to get up to help, and she says "wait here, please, triage for adult patients is done alone."

And, sure, but didn't they get the notes?

Rubens looks at Johnny, only slowly nodding after they have made eye contact. Johnny is not entirely sure what it means, but he prepares himself for trouble anyway.

And then Rubens /tries/ to stand.

This time when he falls, he catches his weight on his bad arm. Johnny just about manages to stop his head or chest crashing into the floor, snapping at the doctor with a "didn't you /read/ he can't walk right now?!" as he helps him back onto the chair.

It leaves Rubens even more off-colour, and shaking, and Johnny not a great deal impressed with what is going on.

"I'll be right back," the doctor vanishes back the way she came.

"Will you be okay alone?" Johnny asks.

"Eh," Rubens manages a small laugh - his breathing is not settling this time, remaining too fast and too shallow. "I'll manage."

"Of course you will."

Johnny wishes there was an easier way to solve this specific bullshit at least.

Quickly, Johnny finished Rubens papers, and lets him sign them. They are ready when a different doctor appears - this one accompanied by some lower ranked staff member pushing a wheelchair.

"Mr Naluti, I'll be taking over from my colleague," the new doctor says. "We need to speak to you alone - privacy and protocol, you understand - but he can help you transfer if that is better for you?"

It is better for Johnny, at least.

"It's up to you," he still manages to say, standing and offering his arms, just like getting out of the car.

Rubens nods, and takes them, struggling the few short steps from the chair to the wheelchair. Johnny helps him get... not comfortable, but less uncomfortable, before placing Rubens' clipboard on his lap.

"See you shortly," Johnny promises.

"Yeah," Rubens replies between tight breaths. "See you soon."

---

Johnny does not see Rubens shortly, not even close thereto. They did bring the evidence with them, split between their bags - it's been stolen from their car before, and that was it's own form of nightmare - but he cannot exactly work on it here. Neither can he work on it without Rubens, who...

"Mr Tabasco," one of the nurses had told him. "Your friend - Mr Naluti? He asked us to tell you... He needs to be admitted due to internal damage? Primarily to his lung. There is surgery involved, though the tear is small and so it is a relatively simple procedure. It is not common with electrical injuries, especially with mains supplies, but it can happen. The doctor wished to work on it immediately, and he consented. There were some other internal injuries too - all consistent with severe muscle spasming or electrical burns. You'll be able to see him once the doctors have finished, but he'll be here a few nights most likely; until the chest tube comes out, at least, perhaps longer depending on his ribs. Given the nature of his injuries, and that you were injured together, the doctor wishes to see you immediately."

And Johnny liked none of that, not at all. He complied with the doctors simply to get through everything, and given an injection to force his muscles to stop cramping. He hates how it helps him feel less like shit, and concedes to their desire for at least 24 hours of wires and monitoring only once he realises it will place him and Rubens on the same ward.

The ward is louder, and busier, and Johnny hasn't slept since this time yesterday, if nobody counts getting knocked out and kidnapped. Still, he cannot rest yet, not until he knows Rubens is fine. There are, at least, some non-work related books in his bag; he'll text Sam with an update once he's sure what's going on, and until then at least try to relax.

Thankfully, he does not get more than two chapters in before Rubens is brought through. Something he said must have stuck with the doctors, as he is given the next bed along. Propped to half-sitting, with some wires and tubes and thick bandaging around one shoulder, but awake and unhappy about it. Johnny waits for the medical staff to finish adjusting him to take a better look; Rubens' eyes trail after them somewhat nervously, and hospital blue does not suit him but he is looking a distinctly better colour.

"You alright?" he asks, drawing attention from the room to himself.

Rubens visibly relaxes when his eyes catch on him, bored and reading. He gestures to himself with his unbandaged arm, clearly moving carefully so as not to disturb anything.

"You?" he returns with.

"Painkillers help," Johnny offers, and receives a firm nod of agreement. "I'm sore, but fine. Might have torn something, but swelling needs to go down to check. The burns are too deep, but my nerves are a bit sensitive and they want to be absolutely sure the ones around my heart are fine before they let me leave."

"Heart?" Rubens asks, his attention focusing in for a second, before someone dropping a tray of medicines with a loud 'fuck!' draws a flinch and his attention.

"Doctor said if there was going to be a problem there probably would be by now, but he wanted it monitoring just in case," Johnny does his best to reassure. "You... look a bit more alive?"

"Not alive enough to read."

Johnny laughs, "I wasn't going to ask you for that already. Did they say how long you're here for...?"

Rubens shakes his head a little, "no 'heavy exercise' for at least 4 weeks. Maybe more. Depends on my ribs."

"I'll let Sam know. We can sort through the paperwork and update reports in the meantime."

"Ugh," he flops harder into the pillows, seemingly trying to lay down - something the nurses made impossible for the both of them - but gestures consent. "Tell him 'just hack the hospital records'."

"Alright. Get some sleep, or I do have our bags? I think your wallet is in there if you want to buy access to the TVs. Not sure what else you packed."

There is just the problem of getting Rubens' bag to him.

Rubens seems to choose sleep, though, or at least closing his eyes to think about something - it's been a long night, and Johnny will probably follow once he's reported in.

Just a short text message; Sam can work out a more secure connection if he wants information immediately, otherwise he can wait until at least Johnny can head home and ring. Scanning he can also do, but accessing the digital documents will have wait for Rubens. Not that the Order is ever running to time anyway.

'Hey Sam' he types, keeping things on their personal phones as civilian sounding as possible. 'So first off, don't panic, nobody's dead or dying, but Rubens and I are in hospital. He said to tell you to just hack the hospital records, so now I've said it. Not really in the mood to explain

.., but the short is some asshole got us electrocuted...'

[factorialsotherfandoms]

just a tiny little fragment of a scene in an opd canon divergence, um, its just sleepy fluff. I'd be a bit careful if you haven't finished the series, tho. The ao3 tags are going to be infinitely more spoilery than the text lmao.

It's a little before dawn that Kaiser stumbles back into the house, the only light in the house the one in the living room. Locking the door behind him he peeks inside, and sees Ivete asleep on the couch.

She is facing almost towards the door, as though waiting for him to come home.

Guilt swirls in his throat, but he knows better than to wake her. Instead, he pulls a black, skull and flame patterned blanket from the shelf, and lays it over her. Ivete stirs a little but does not wake, sure to complain about her back in the morning but warm and safe.

The others...

Kaiser should just go to his room. He doesn't, though, not even brushing his teeth before cracking open Arthur's door.

Joui's mattress is on the floor, empty. Kaiser is terrified for a moment - gone again, gone again, gone /again/ - before he looks up and sees Joui curled around Arthur on the bed. He is snoring, while Arthur looks at him with one exhausted eye.

Caught.

Kaiser comes over to the bed, letting Arthur reach out, and take his hand. Rough fingers trace rougher scars, waiting.

"Hey," Kaiser offers, not sure what else to give.

"You're here?"

"I'm here. Just checking in before I go to bed, right?"

Arthur lets go of Kaiser's hand. He thinks that is the end, before the cover is lifted up.

And Kaiser... is weak.

He tosses his jacket on the floor, but otherwise just crawls into bed at Arthur's side. The blankets come back down, and an arm wraps around Kaiser, pulling him so close he can feel Arthur's breath on his neck, and it is just a little shift to feel Joui's against his hand.

Hesitantly, with the bravery only the small hours of the morning provide, he wraps his arms around the both of them.

"Good night, Cesar," Arthur whispers.

Kaiser does not comment on it. Cesar kisses the top of Joui's head, and then Arthur's, and pulls them both tight.

"We're okay," Arthur promises. "Go to sleep; it's safe here."

"I know," except, he doesn't, it isn't, knowing he is loved in return only makes the need to keep them safe more dire; he pulls the pair close, keeps Arthur safe and secure and trapped between them, keeps his hand tight on Joui so he cannot run away again. "I know."

[gothkaiser]

✐ amigos ; cassiano + eduarda

arte: @marsealnz