#ordem paranormal 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.

[chanyouchan]

⌕ pizza em dobro

⚠ em caso de inspiração, me credite.

📆 25/11/23 | ✎ @mnini (psd)

[kenjicopy]

Pedido pessoal Nossa história em três páginas credits: arts by @saturny27

[cp9designs]

Artes oficiais rpg

Capa/banner por: @shokollisna

Pedido por: @aramika

Colaboração: @cp9designs

[shykpop]

RANDOM icons, + like or reblog , If you use

[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

[idontknowanametouse]

Liga a todos nós (uma fanfic de Ordem Paranormal) (não é meu melhor trabalho mas tá aí, né)

-

Equipe de Varredura.

Eles estavam próximos da Degolificada. Tão, tão próximos. Quando entrassem naquela biblioteca, talvez ela já estivesse lá. Ela poderia matar todos eles e não restaria nada para contar quem eles eram, apenas cascas vazias e sem olhos.

-Hora de morfar!

Uma frase interrompe a trilha de pensamento de Liz e ela, Daniel e Thiago olham para Alex, igualmente confusos. Ele havia estendido o punho, como que esperando por um soquinho, e olhava levemente esperançoso para eles.

-O... - Daniel apertou a ponte do nariz. - O que é que é isso?

-É a frase dos Power Rangers, ué.

-Não, eu sei que é a frase dos Power Rangers, mas porque você tá falando ela quando a gente provavelmente vai morrer?

-A gente não vai morrer. Essa frase é pra gente se sentir pronto. Eu sempre fazia isso com meus alunos antes da prova. E, quando a gente sair daqui, caso, Deus me livre, a gente encontrar isso de novo, a gente fala pra dar sorte.

Daniel olha pra Liz, parecendo incrédulo. Ela, por sua vez, olha para Thiago, tentando ver o que ele achava daquela palhaçada. O homem dá de ombros, como que dizendo "mal não vai fazer, né".

Liz fechou os olhos e respirou fundo. Ela ia se arrepender daquela coisa ridícula depois.

-Hora... de morfar. - e, revirando os olhos, estendeu a mão em punho para a de Alex.

-Hora de morfar. - disse Thiago, parecendo convicto de que aquilo salvaria suas vidas, também estendendo o punho.

Daniel olhou para os três como se eles fossem idiotas, e recebeu em troca olhares que diziam "o que você tá esperando? Vem logo pra gente entrar ali e morrer". O homem murmurou:

-Eu odeio vocês. - e estendeu o punho, gritando: - Hora de morfar!

Os olhos de Alex brilharam.

Equipe E

Liz sentia que ia vomitar ao ver o Porteiro prestes a gravar o símbolo nas costas de Thiago. Ele, no entanto, ergueu a mão e pediu:

-Espera! Uma última coisa. - e estendeu a mão em forma de punho, olhando diretamente para Liz. - Hora de morfar.

O coração da mulher parou. Ela mal conseguia acreditar que ele se lembrava daquilo. (ela se lembrava, claro que se lembrava, ela passava mentalmente cada segundo daqueles dias em sua mente todo o tempo, se perguntando qual foi seu maior erro)

Liz engoliu em seco e, tremendo, repetiu o gesto:

-Hora de morfar.

E o restante da Equipe Esperança fez o mesmo.

Força D

-Aí, todo mundo! - chama Kaiser. A equipe (o que sobrou) olha para ele quando estavam prestes a sair da van e ir para o cemitério. Kaiser ergue o punho. - Hora de morfar.

Ele olha de canto para Arthur, o homem parece prestes a chorar, mas faz o mesmo. A Força Desconjuração realiza um último ato em conjunto.

Equipe Abutres

-Ei, gente - começou Arthur na saída de Bariguara, chamando a atenção dos outros. Ele olha para sua mão e murmura: - Eu sei que a gente só se conhece a umas horas, mas... a gente formou uma equipe hoje, então... eu queria fazer um gesto que alguém muito especial pra mim me ensinou. Ele dá sorte. - e ergueu o punho. - Hora de morfar!

-

[nailyourcoffins]

O primeiro capítulo da minha fanfic de Ordem Paranormal, Os Filhos de Saturno, foi postado no ao3!

→ Sumário: "Com o fracasso da missão de Carpazinha, os dias de Cesar em sua rotina normal pareciam sempre os mesmos, fazendo de tudo para manter a cabeça no lugar e não culpar-se do que ele considerava abandonar as pessoas que mais dependiam dele. Sentimentos mistos retornam para si quando, numa madrugada, Veríssimo o manda uma mensagem pedindo para retornar à Ordem.

Os Filhos de Saturno é uma história de mistério que tenta se aproximar ao máximo do cânone do rpg e do que seria uma missão padrão no universo. Como um "What-If...?", ela aborda uma linha do tempo alternativa que tenta desenvolver mais sobre a relação conturbada entre Cristopher e Cesar, enquanto cumprem uma missão no litoral paulista."

[chaotic-lion-king]

New Chapter guys!! This one is a special one since I've been giving hints of what happened ♡

[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."

[caffeine-high]

Vuurtoren

Fandom: Ordem Paranormal, O Segredo na Ilha

Characters: Bárbara Lima, Amelie Florence, Olivier Florence, Milo Castello (mentioned), Miguel Castello (mentioned)

Tags: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Isolation, Self-Destruction, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Character Death, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 (complete)

Words: 1156 (Total: 6126)

AO3 link

Summary

When the chaos dies down, and they have some time to catch their breath, it dawns on them. They survived. Everyone would die in the morning, but now, it is morning, and they survived. Both Amelie and Olivier would like nothing more than to get away from this island, and never to return. Bárbara however, struggles; someone needs to stay behind, either to Keep, or to Destroy the Secret.

Chapter 1: Kijkduin

---------------------------------------------------------

When the chaos dies down, and they have some time to catch their breath, it dawns on them. They survived. Everyone would die in the morning, but now, it is morning, and they survived. Then they have some more time, and another realisation sets in. Not all of them survived. The glow of the electric, purple veins crackling all over Amelie’s body dim. The creature, who just a little bit ago had been aiming to destroy them. Now lays on the ground, nothing more than a particularly large puddle of reddish brown goop.

Clinging to her brother, giving him as much comfort as she could give, and taking all she that could get, Amelie glances inside the church. Ten. That is the amount of people that died in there. Ten people they couldn’t save. Among them, her friend Bárbara, and her friend Milo, as well as Miguel, and the tiny body of Amora. Amelie takes a deep breath, and steels herself. Slowly, she lets go of Olivier. Not fully! God no. Just enough to look around. Amelie takes his hand, gives it a firm squeeze and stands up, guiding him along with her. Olivier may be an adult, but he is still her little brother, she will take care of him.

They had directed everyone to go to Navia’s house, and as they are about to turn their back to the church and walk there as well, Amelie takes one last look at the church. Wait.. No.. It can’t be? Can it? Abruptly she turns around and runs inside, clumsily dragging Olivier behind her. When they near, she’s certain. She saw movement! Not from the horrid creature, no. From behind it. Bárbara’s body stirs, then groans, and then finally, slowly, moves to sit up. She is unsteady and almost falls over again, but Amelie quickly drops down to catch her by her shoulders. With Bárbera safely squished between them, they now actually, fully start making their way to Navia’s.

The first few minutes after are a bit of a blur. The siblings greet their mom, they try to get Navia to help Bárbera (though, there is not much she can do about paint), they watch in agony as Adrian comes over with his daughter’s dead body clutched tightly to his chest. Eventually they remember that The Ordo, whoever they are, would be on their way, and direct everyone to the beach. Somewhere in between they also went back to the mansion to pick up their dad, although neither of them were particularly happy to do so. On the beach they meet the two agents, who introduce themselves and ask them to consider joining. It is too much, all of it. They are exhausted, and whatever is being said barely registers. Apparently they want everyone to get on Adrian’s boat while they sweep the island, and then they want everyone to leave. Absolutely not a problem!

Both Amelie and Olivier would like nothing more than to get away, and never to return. But when they try to board, Bárbera stribbles back. This is her island. She grew up here. It is all she knows. Furthermore, what if the agents, in their sweep, discover more secrets? If, if, she were to leave the island, she would only do so knowing every single thing there is to know. And she doesn't yet. At the very least she should join the agents in their route!

Perplexed, but not willing to argue with this poor girl, drenched in blood and clearly in distress, they let her. She only has to promise to stay between the two of them, and to do exactly as they say. And, to run at the first sign of danger. Bárbara agrees without hesitation. She agrees, but she does not do what is asked. When they arrive back at the church, and the agents tell her to stay outside and out of trouble while they investigate, she sees one of the bodies stir. Before either of them could react, with a coldness that the agents have not seen in anyone, swiftly walks up to it and stabs it through its heart.

There is something methodical to her, as she helps them carry the bodies outside to burn. Not the blank nothingness of someone broken by their experiences. Something else. Neither of the agents quite manage to place it yet. Though they both know what it is like to lose people, or even, to lose your entire family or everyone you grew up with, this reaction is new. That is, until they get to the body of a boy. He seems to be around her age, curly hair with coveralls over a large blue jumper, no shoes. She doesn’t cry, but she seems to be gentler with this body. As he is laid down next to the others she adjusts his head, to lay more naturally. She brushes the hair out of the hole where the rest of his face must have been. The agents turn away to give her some sense of privacy, in which she can say her goodbyes. And if afterwards, if she is now wearing a locket they’re quite sure she was not wearing before, they won’t say anything.

As the modest pile of bodies burns behind them (8, there are 8 bodies. 9 people in total that died because they were too late The owner of the boat had been clutching the body of a small girl, but did not want her to be burned with the rest of them. Instead promising that, while they were making their round, he would burn her on the beach). They make their way to the mansion at the top of the hill. The girl with them, Bárbara, grows even more distant. The tenderness she displayed towards that boy all gone, just that coldness is left. The group makes their way through the mansion quite quickly, the agents taking note of the half transformed blood zombie, looking suspiciously similar to the girl in their companionship. She herself only taking a few seconds to glance at the body, before averting her eyes. Eventually they find a passage behind the large painting in the stairway, leading down into a cavern.

If they bothered to look for it, the agents could have seen a faint glimmer in Bárbara’s eyes; so there were secrets left to discover! That spark was quickly snuffed out though when they reached the actual cave. She didn’t care for the bell, or for the door, nor even really for that painting. What she did care for is that the paint, the source of all this despair, the source of every single trouble on this island, originated from here. Bárbera took one look at this source, this spring of paint and made her decision: She would not, under any circumstance, leave this island until she could be sure that it would never, ever, hurt anybody, ever again!

next>

---------------------------------------------------------

Notes: I wrote this instead of studying (。・∀・)ノ

or sleeping╯︿╰

This is the lighthouse where this chapter takes its name from, isn't it pretty?

Image source: https://www.vuurtorens.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/11/Kijkduin-groot.jpg

[jenning-fcb]

One thing that I find funny, because it's happened many times with my favorite ships from different fandoms. Usually the character I prefer as a bottom is seen as a top in the fandom, and the one I prefer as a top, the fandom prefers as a bottom lol It's not that deep, but I think it's funny because this always happens, I'm never with the majority lol (the metric I'm using for this is ao3 and twitter fanfics.)

[bluebookstorelady]

Por que é tão difícil achar fanfics de ordem paranormal??? Que ódio, eu preciso ler conteúdo desses personagens para sobreviver e não acho nada

Ajuda ai alguém que sabe

[lgbtiba]

O TERROR TERMINOU 💪💪

A short little drabble about banito and emi because they live rent free in my head ❤

WARNING: some derealization goin on in there so be careful yall + ordem type body horror

[idontknowanametouse]

AU de Sinais do Outro Lado em que todo mundo vive e é feliz (bom, mais ou menos)

[Descrição das imagens em ALT]

Nessa AU, aconteceu algumas coisas iguais ao canon, mas outras diferentes. A Dara, Chico e Lírio entraram nas cápsulas que nem na história e saíram por causa de Dante, que encontrou os três mais velhinhos, e eles entraram pra Ordem depois de todas as merdas que rolaram. O Calisto ainda é um agente da Ordem e ajuda os três a se adaptarem às missões e tal. O Don e o Luan ficam muito surpresos quando encontram eles lá (o Don virou da sala de pesquisa e o Luan é basicamente o motorista da Ordem que leva a galera pra todo lugar).

O Guizo foi pra Tenebris, mas continua em contato com a nossa realidade, e a Dara mais todo mundo com mais de 50% de exposição paranormal consegue enxergar e ouvir ele. Ele adora que agora que os amigos saíram das cápsulas ele tem alguém pra conversar que não vai sair correndo. Ele não aparece em vídeos, mas tem estática sempre que uma câmera se vira pra ele, e fica também acompanhando eles nas missões (a câmera dele mostra umas paradas muito loka)

E o Morato e o Xande... bem...

(aviso de gatilho pra tortura, lavagem cerebral, perda de memória e escravidão)

O Estrangeiro não matou os dois. A maioria das coisas que ele fez no canon aconteceram, exceto o momento em que eles morrem. Ao invés disso, ele basicamente transformou os dois em escravos e tirou quase toda a humanidade deles. Depois que os três saíram das cápsulas, a primeira missão deles foi pra ajudar a tirar o resto dos Alheios de Varminho, já que eles tinham experiência. O Estrangeiro não tava mais lá, mas os dois sim.

Foi... bem terrível. Eles tinham se separado e o Chico e o Lírio encontraram o Morato, enquanto a Dara encontrou o Xande. O Morato não tinha memória e atacou os dois, enquanto que o Xande, por saber que a Dara tinha sido escolhida pelo Sinal, ficou obedecendo cada mínima coisa que ela falasse e que poderia ser uma ordem.

O Guizo, com os poderes de Tenebris que ele ganhou, conseguiu trazer as memórias deles de volta, e vamos dizer que foi bem brutal. Nenhum deles conseguia mais falar depois das experiências que o Estrangeiro fez neles e os dois quebraram de um jeito que nenhum dos Cinco tinha visto antes. Eles levaram os dois pra Ordem e começaram a ajudar eles a se recuperarem.

O Chico sempre carregava na mochila uma muda de roupa reserva pra cada um, e por conta disso ele tinha umas pro Morato e o Xande. Além disso, a Dara, antes de entrar na cápsula, tinha pego o boné do Xande e a faixa do Morato. Isso foi uma das coisas que mais ajudou eles a se sentirem humanos e eles mesmos de novo.

Eles saem em missões juntos e têm um cursinho sobre os anos 2000 (o Chico 100% entrou pro anonymous, confia) toda quinta com o Samuel. Às vezes, o Guizo fala em uma linguagem que eles não conseguem entender, então eles tentam ser criativos pra saber o que ele tá dizendo. O Morato e o Xande usam linguagem de sinais e AAC, e têm altos e baixos, e geralmente voltam a ser eles mesmos com os Cinco, Don, Luan e Calisto, mas sem eles por perto, eles só parecem fantasmas ou mesmo Existidos. A Dara evita falar coisas de comando pra eles porque eles simplesmente obedecem, não importa o que seja, e ela fica se sentindo horrível, que nem o Estrangeiro. O Lírio e o Chico tentam falar que não é culpa dela, mas sabem que ela não vai escutar.

Apesar de ser difícil pra todo mundo, eles tão todos ali. E eles... tão indo.

(Ah, e o Chico e o Lírio finalmente começaram a namorar. O Calisto e o Morato tão tentando. A Dara, o Guizo e o Xande são tão bestas que ainda não perceberam os próprios sentimentos, mas eles tão indo)

(Se alguém curtir a ideia, eu faço um de OSNI e do resto de Ordem tbm porque eu gosto de finais felizes)

[masked-ragdoll]

Chapter two is up!

The trio call their mentor, Cellbit, to get his thoughts on the Hero situation