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foursideharmony · 3 years

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The Cat, the Prince, and the Doorway to Imagination (Chapter 7)

Summary: The final confrontation with the wicked White Warlock!

Pairings: Platonic/familial LAMP/CALM, Platonic/familial DLAMPR

Content Warnings: More Remus being Remus. Violence and threats of violence. Someone slowly being covered in ice.

Word Count: 3,675

Read on AO3: here

“Huh,” Remus said, apparently lost for words (which was unusual in itself). “So now what?”

Janus blinked. “I'm not sure.”

“Which means you are sure, right?” Remus said with a great big wink.

Before Janus could explain for the umpteenth time that it wasn't that simple (and never had been), there came a loud growling sound from nearby, and something huge and brown came crashing out of the brush and charged them. Janus barely managed to dive out of the way of what he quickly realized was an entire bear. Remus, always a big believer in the principle that the best defense is a good offense, dodged it by leaping straight up, and used the momentum of his downward arc to add force to a massive swing of his morningstar. The blow knocked the beast off its feet, and it threw great arcs of snow into the air as it skidded to a stop.

“That was fun!” Remus declared, resting the weapon on his shoulder. “Hey, want me to skin it for you? A nice bearskin rug will keep you warm so you don't have to crawl under a rotting log to hibernate!”

Janus had no time to muse upon how accurately he had predicted Remus's behavior, because a motion at the corner of his eye told him that the bear was not totally out of play yet. It was made of far sterner stuff than the dwarf had been and had only been stunned by the blow, and was now shaking itself awake. But rather than lunging at them again, or even fleeing back into the trees, it hoisted itself into a sitting position, clutched at its head with its paws, and began to whimper.

“Oh, stop it!” Remus said petulantly. “You attacked us, remember? Roman calls me violent, but I would just like to point out that so far, 100% of the creatures from this winter wonderland of his have tried to kill us!”

Much to Janus's surprise (though perhaps it shouldn't have been), the bear pivoted on its rump and said: “I was only protecting Mr. Logan!”

Janus smiled...now this was a situation he could deal with. He stepped forward, made Remus silence himself just to be on the safe side, and said, “Why, we would never harm Logan! We're some of his closest friends, after all!”

Still rubbing its—his—head with one paw, the bear rolled around until it was standing on the other three. “Then sirs, you must be the help he sent for!”

“We are! We got his message! But alas, it seems we were too late to prevent this.” Janus gestured at the crystallized Logan.

“It's not your fault, sir,” said the bear. “I was supposed to protect him from the White Warlock. And now I've got to go back and tell the others what happened.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea. But first, why don't you tell...” Janus trailed off, realizing the Remus—still silenced—was jumping up and down behind him and frantically waving his free hand. He released him. “Yes, what is it?”

“I know what this is!” Remus said gleefully. “Roman's gone and recreated the first Narnia book!”

“I never realized you were...into that sort of thing.”

“Are you kidding? With all the descriptions of war and violence and disturbing religious subtext? Not to mention a happy ending where everyone dies! What's not to love?”

“Even after all these years, you still retain the capacity to surprise me, Remus. However, I doubt the same aspects are what holds appeal for your brother, so try not to get too excited.” Janus turned back to the bear. “As I was saying, I think it might be a good idea for you to tell us what happened here. Who did this to Logan?”

“The White Warlock, of course, sir!”

“A warlock instead of a witch?” said Remus. “That's a new one...Roman usually loves fighting witches. He has this one recurring antagonist, the Dra—”

“Yes, Remus, we are all aware of the Dragon Witch.”

“Begging your pardon, sirs, but I think this Roman of yours is the White Warlock. That's the name the others called him back at the Stone Table.”

Remus did a spit-take. He hadn't been drinking anything, of course, but it was hardly beyond his capabilities (or his inclination) to generate something within his mouth entirely for the purpose of spitting it out. It looked like used motor oil. “Roman made himself the bad guy? That's definitely a new one!” He was grinning, but it was a rather fixed grin, and his eyes darted around under a furrowed brow.

“You said you were going back to the others,” Janus said to the bear. “Take us with you.”

Virgil, for once, felt genuinely useful: He had volunteered for the first watch of the night. Hushwing the Owl had shown him a tree he could climb from which he could scan the entire western and southern approach to the hill. It was a clear night and the moon was pretty close to full, and its light turned the snow into a stark bluish canvas against which any sort of moving shadow was plainly visible. Thus, as the ten o'clock hour approached and a large shuffling shape emerged from the trees to the west, Virgil looked not directly at it but at the silhouette it cast on the ground. It was definitely a bear and definitely had riders, one of whom was wearing a bowler hat. Good enough, even with the odd distortion of light and shade that seemed to sit between the forms of the two humans. He made the hooting call Hushwing had taught him which meant “Friendly approaching” and clambered down from his perch in order to go glower at Janus.

The climb took longer than he would have liked in the dark, and by the time he got back to the crown of the hill, the party had already arrived and was being greeted and offered blankets and a bit of warmed-over stew. Stoutpaws had apparently collapsed and fallen asleep right there on the hilltop...as Virgil supposed he would, after an entire day of running. Janus (ugh) was being helped over to the rebuilt campfire. And Logan...

Someone lunged at Virgil. Flight won, as it usually did, and he skittered backward several steps, only to realize that it was Patton he was flinching away from, and Patton was crying. “Shit...sorry...startled...” he mumbled, opening his arms and letting the Moral Side fling himself into them. He was shaking with sobs. “Patton...what happened?”

“R-R-Roman d-did something awful t-to Logan!”

The cluster of Narnians seeing to the arriving group parted. At first, Virgil couldn't tell what he was looking it—the object was translucent and oddly shaped, and moonlight and torchlight played over its surface and through its interior in ways that prevented him from focusing on its edges...until a chance flicker brought the details into clarity.

His head swimming, his thoughts useless, Virgil slipped from Patton's arms and dropped to his knees. He couldn't stop staring at it.

At Logan, frozen in crystal.

A murder . He was looking at a murder.

“Hell of a thing, isn't it?” said a screeching voice behind him. It was the sort of thing that ordinarily would provoke an instant reaction in Virgil (and that voice in particular would give a huge boost to Fight), but he was just too stunned. “As soon as Janus warms up enough that he's not going to drop off into a snake-coma, we'll all sit down and work out what to do about it. I can't wait to tell all of you my idea!”

Something in Virgil's brain finally lurched into motion, but all he could manage was a half-hearted glare back over his shoulder and a mumbled “What are you doing here?”

“Well, la-dee-dah, Panic-Depressive, I didn't know Thomas's Creativity needed permission to visit the Imagination.”

Virgil decided—to the extent that he was capable of deciding anything in the moment—that he could only cope with one atrocity at a time. He brushed Remus off and turned back to Patton. “Are you okay?” Patton shook his head emphatically. “Yeah, okay, dumb question.” In a way, Virgil was grateful for Remus's presence, since severe annoyance was usually a pretty strong barrier between himself and panic. “Let's...just...gather around the fire, so we can get our discussion going the instant De—Janus is up to it.”

They did. Janus sat on a boulder less than a yard from the fire, gazing rather glassily at it. The Narnians had given him a dark woolen cloak, and he had been engaged in an unsettlingly animalistic ritual: alternately spreading the cloth wide like wings, catching heat from the flames, and then wrapping it around himself to absorb the warmth. He glanced up, more or less, as the others approached. “So I assume you've all been made aware of the depths of depravity to which our dear Roman has sunk in his quest for...whatever it is he's questing for these days.”

“Roman's not depraved!” Patton said in a tone that suggested he had expected the accusation. He took his own seat across from Janus. “He's just...I don't know what exactly is going on with him right now, but he's not depraved!”

“Patton...” Virgil said, choosing to remain standing for the time being, “...he turned Logan into stone. There's no way to sugar-coat that.”

“It could have been an accident!”

“Patton...”

“It could have! He made a point of sparing Muricata's tree! I can't square that with the idea of him doing that to one of us on purpose!”

“Pat, listen. This?” Virgil mimicked the Logan-statue's outflung arm. “Is a defensive posture.” He started pacing. “Which means he saw it coming. Which means Roman telegraphed that he was going to do it, which means it was on purpose.”

Patton's eyes started to well up again. “I just wish I knew why,” he said.

“We'll be sure to ask him when he comes here to kill the rest of us in the morning,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes. “Who knows? He might even answer. The more important question is what to do about it. Can we change Logan back?”

“Ooh! Ooh! Pick me! I have an idea!” said Remus, who had been watching the argument between Patton and Virgil with the glee of an obsessive tennis fan. “When he shows up tomorrow to kill us all, I sneak up behind him and clonk him on the head! Once he's knocked out, primary control of the Imagination will automatically pass to me! Then I can make this story go my way, and I guess you can hash out your issues with Roman afterward or whatever.”

There was dead silence for a moment. Then Janus shifted in his cloak. “Let's make that Plan...” He started counting silently on his fingers, and manifested a few more hands to get to the number he wanted. “X. Plan X.”

“Can we make it Plan Triple-X?” Remus said, waggling his eyebrows.

“If we reach that level of desperation, I'm sure we'll be happy to let you do just whatever you want,” said the Dishonest Side. “In the meantime...something less drastic first, perhaps?”

“Logan's original plan,” Virgil said cautiously, “was to let Roman catch sight of you, hoping that it would shock him out of this downward villainy spiral he's stuck in.”

Janus looked taken aback for a split second, almost like a micro-flinch. “Well...” he said after a beat, “...far be it from me to question the soundness of one of Logan's ideas...” He let the end of the sentence hang in the air like an icicle.

Remus lost interest in the conversation and began searching the area for things to put in the fire.

“If it makes you feel any better, Scales, I was against the whole thing,” said Virgil. “But you're here now, and it's not like we have any other ideas.”

“Well, as long as I have your vote of confidence I know we'll do just swimmingly.”

Remus dropped a pine cone on the fire and giggled as it ignited with a series of explosive pops.

“H-hey, guys,” Patton said with a slight quaver. “Stop sniping at each other. This isn't about you two. It's about...well, all of us, really.” He swallowed, and when he continued his voice was stronger, more authoritative. “It's about Roman, and because it's about him it's about our whole family. We have to cooperate. Now then, Janus, if you're skeptical of Logan's plan, why don't you tell us why so we can figure out something else?”

Janus did his very best impression of a deer in headlights for a moment. Then he recovered his composure, cleared his throat, and said “I may have been exaggerating. Am I correct in thinking that the idea is to show Roman his idea of a villain so he presumably stops trying to be one?”

“Something like that,” Virgil mumbled.

Emboldened, Remus stuck a twiggy branch in the fire until it lit up and waved it in the air like a pennant.

“That's hardly a kind view of me,” Janus continued, “but I've heard of worse stratagems. Might I suggest a few...refinements?”

“Guess we can't stop you.”

“Virgil, be nice! We'd love to get your input, Janus.”

“Thank you, Patton. Remus! Pay attention; this concerns you as well.”

Remus, who had been on the point of touching the burning branch to his own hair, tossed it aside and plunked down onto a log, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands cupping his face. “Fire away, Jay-jay!”

Janus took a medium-long look at the ensorceled Logan, and began.

Dawn came all too early and with it, the bellow of a war horn. Startled awake, the Sides lurched to pull on clothes and scrambled out of the hillside shelter to see what they were up against.

At their previous meeting, Roman had been accompanied by an entourage. This time...he had brought an army. Perhaps five thousand strong, they massed around the foot of the hill, blocking off any retreat except by air...and the presence of Dwarven archers among the ranks ensured that any creature attempting to escape via flight would fail as well. The good Narnians, outnumbered nearly two hundred to one, clustered at the crown of the hill, facing grimly outward and wondering when the charge would come. The Sides stayed near the middle of the group at first, protected and almost entirely screened from view.

Roman, almost too brilliant to look at in his snow-white suit and icy jewels, detached himself from his throng and marched up toward them. “Showtime,” Janus muttered.

“Yesterday,” the self-styled King of Narnia proclaimed, “we issued an ultimatum to this company here assembled. Now we return to hear your decision and respond to it. Do you or do you not swear fealty to the Crown of Narnia?”

The Narnians, per the plan, stood firm and did not speak.

“We asked for your reply!” Roman snarled. “Where are my fellows? Have they abandoned you?”

“No, we haven't!” Patton said. The Narnians stood aside to let him through, followed by Virgil...and Logan. “And we're not surrendering either! You've taken things way too far, Roman, and it is not okay!”

Roman said nothing, staring dumbfounded at Logan. “You seem surprised to see me in my current condition,” said the Logical Side. “Your enchantment wore off after what I have calculated to be two hours, forty-seven minutes, and eleven point three four seconds.”

“That's impossible!” Roman shouted. “The transformation is permanent until counteracted!”

“Perhaps your control over the Imagination is not as absolute as you have heretofore assumed. Patton believes...actually, I will allow him to explain. Patton?”

“It's because you're abandoning your calling, Roman! Thomas doesn't want a wicked Creativity! Hurting your own creations for the sake of a story is one thing, but hurting us? You're turning into something that Thomas would never allow to be in charge of his Imagination!”

“Yeah, and it's really throwing a wrench into my plans!” said Remus, suddenly springing out of the crowd to Roman's shock. “What are you doing , bro? You can't be the evil twin! Because then I have to be the good twin, and I can't go shaving my mustache now! I just got it the way I want it! I don't even know how to be good!”

“You—! What are you all playing at?” Roman said, backing away slightly. He leveled a scandalized finger at Remus. “Working with him ...this is exactly why...but never mind. You will surrender to me—all of you!—or none of these foolish creatures you have befriended will survive the day!”

“I know you don't mean that,” Patton said softly “You didn't even really kill the Dryad's tree yesterday. You want to be the hero, Roman. So be the hero . Take off that crown, put down the wand, and let's talk.”

Roman's face became pensive. He was considering...no, he was listening for something, and then he stepped forward again. “You'd like that, wouldn't you?” he said. The wand swished through the air. The other Sides shouted in alarm, but no one turned to stone. Patton, however, wobbled, his feet literally frozen to the ground in a thick coating of ice.

The ice began to creep up his legs.

“Surrender,” Roman hissed. “Swear fealty to your King. Or watch him freeze.”

“Guys...” Virgil said.

Someone began to clap slowly, but the claps were muffled as if by gloves. Which was exactly the case. “Oh, bra-vo, Roman,” said Janus, dropping the Logan illusion. “You're finally doing for yourself. Using your power to take what you want. I couldn't be prouder.”

“You!” Roman gawked, even more appalled than he had been at Remus's presence. Then his face split in a grin of triumph. “Ha! I knew my enchantment hadn't worn off! Now will you yield to me, or stand by while Patton suffers a similar fate?”

“Yes!” Janus said with the merest hint of a hiss. “That's just the way! Show them all what you are capable of when slighted!”

“Shut up!” Roman said, and for the first time, his rapidly twitching expressions lighted on uncertainty . “Your input is not welcome here!”

“Clearly not; why I daresay you've supplanted me and Remus both with your villainy.”

“I said shut up!”

“Roman...” said Patton as the ice slithered up toward his hips, “...why are you doing this?”

“BECAUSE SOMEONE HAS TO!” Roman wailed. “Because you and Thomas lost all perspective...you invited him to the table...and all I wanted was a simple adventure where I knew who the bad guy was...and then it turned out to be me ! Even the Imagination started pushing me out of the hero role!”

“Pushing you!” Patton repeated. “So you don't want this!”

“And now you're even working with Remus! You'd rather have him on your side than...than...”

Remus made a loud scoffing noise. “Dream on, bro! For your information, I invited myself! They wouldn't have let me stick around if you weren't acting worse than me! Think about that , why don't you!”

“Roman, darling,” said Janus, approaching slowly with his hands up in a gesture of appeasement, “what makes you think anyone has to be the villain?”

“Every story needs a bad guy,” Roman insisted, backing away.

“That's not true,” said Patton, a mite breathlessly as the ice began to squeeze his chest. “What about all those stories where the conflict comes from misunderstanding? I think that's what's happening here. You're not understanding us or we're not understanding you or both.”

“Look, man, I get it,” Virgil offered, though his calm tone was belied by the constant reverberation of the Tempest Tongue. “I know what it feels like to think you have to be the bad guy. This is me, right? But we got over that, and we can get through this too. Take the enchantments off Patton and Logan and let's all figure it out together. You said yourself stories in the Imagination can take on a life of their own. That doesn't mean they're always telling the truth.”

“But, you know,” said Janus, examining his fingertips. “Your choice, Your Majesty.”

Roman looked from Virgil, to Patton (iced up to his neck) to Remus and Janus, to the whole of Narnia around them. His face twisted up into a terrifying snarl and he stalked forward once again. He raised his wand. Virgil put himself between Roman and Patton (not that there was much more that could be done to the Moral Side), but when he was only feet away from them, Roman suddenly flung his crown to the ground with a shrieking sob and brought the wand down on it. And in an instant, the wand was his sword (and always had been, they realized) and the blade struck the large diamond, shattering it into a thousand shards of ice.

Golden mist rose out of the splintered gem, coiling and flowing, and washed over Roman from his feet up. As it went, it dragged a second mist, bluish-silver, out of him as if plucking hairs by the roots. Roman cried out in pain as the power of the White Witch was scrubbed out of him by the power of Aslan. Both mists spun around each other until they reached a height of several yards, at which point there was a soft explosion and they rocketed away from each other. The Witch's power soared off in a northerly direction, while the Lion's made an arc and landed in the woods nearby.

The ice covering Patton fractured away, and he sagged in relief. “Roman...?” he said.

The Prince turned a plaintive look on him before collapsing to the snow.

#sanders sides #fanfiction #lamp/calm #platonic lamp/calm #dlampr #platonic dlampr #narnia #sympathetic janus #sympathetic remus #villainous roman

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azraqnar · 4 years

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Thoughts on Agony of a witch (Spoiler warning! (Duh))

Oh boy I was doubting this series’s before but not anymore! This episodes is easily the best in the season. Grom doesn’t have shit on this episode! Everything was just great about AOAW, the music, the suspense, the action, the story, the animation, it was all wonderful!

- for one, Hooty is damn creepy when he fights not only does he effortlessly kick the emperors covens ass (you’d think they’d be more powerful than this but whatever) but he has a tea party with their unconscious bodies after. That was an interesting (& creepy) choice & it has me curious if Eda created him or not. We need a hooty backstory.

- Eda’s curse is getting worse and after episodes of not mentioning it they finally acknowledge how bad it’s getting & how Eda needs more potions or a higher dosage to barely keep it under control KEY WORD “BARELY”. It does remind me of when my aunt had cancer and her chemotherapy stopped working they had to higher the dosage. Good job on finally talking about it.

- When Luz leaves I do like how Eda & King reflect on how the “vibe” of the house changed when Luz showed up & how King thought they were gonna eat her (I guess it confirms witches do eat human kids)I am picking up a familia love from Eda & King so now we have the found family trope (Which I love). I thought it was cute when Eda decided to make a cape as a sign of gratitude & how it sets up how important this cape is when Eda talks about the material it’s made out of.

- Luz’s class is going on the field trip to the emperors coven but isn’t Bump the principal not a teacher?At my school whenever we had a field-trip it was the Teachers that went with us not the principal, Bump didn’t even play a big role so they could have swapped him out for a Teacher & nothing would change.

- Amity’s leg is still broken so she can’t attend the field-trip, which I thought was a good idea she didn’t go. I feel like the writers would try to force in more Lumity moments and it would distract from the plot. I do like Lumity but if Amity was there then fans would focus on that rather than the story & the last two episode were Amity focused so she wasn’t needed in this episode. Smart move from the writers, maybe if her legs heals next episode she could be there but idk.

- Now while Luz was thinking about stealing the healing hat I was a bit conflicted on it. I don’t like how the show is telling viewers it’s okay to steal but In Luz’s case it’s for a good cause, she wanted the hat so she could heal Eda’s curse. It’s like those cases you hear of people stealing groceries to feed their families, I felt the same here. Yeah stealing is bad but if it’s for saving someone you love is it really that bad? Idk if the writers wanted us to be conflicted over that dilemma but they succeeded.

- “Good luck with puberty” I laughed when Lilith said that, can’t believe Disney let that slip in.

- I have to say I do like the lore we get in this episode. Emperor Belos established the coven system 50 years ago to “honor the titan” which is the boiling Isles where they might get their magic from, before that witches were doing wild magic in what was called “the savages ages” it’s setting up more lore about the emperor like how did he rise to power? Who was he before? What were these “savage ages” like? If it was 50 years ago then there still are witches & demons that were alive in the savage age & they could tells us what life was like before. It also means Emperor Belos is 70+ years old. I’m just saying a human could live that long. 👀

- Now emperor Belos, wow his designs looks cool as hell, his voice is amazing too, it’s kinda sinister yet soothing at same times. As shown, it looks like he’s in a weakened state, he has to take these weird bird glowing green slime thing to have energy. We don’t know why or how he got like that, but it seems like he wants to Capture Eda so she doesn’t try to overthrow him since he’s weak. In fact, that might be the reason for the coven system, if he limits their magic then they aren’t strong enough to overthrow him. We only saw him for a bit but he gave a good impression when Luz said that no one will know about her stealing the hat we hear Belos voice echo: “ I will know” in the most bone chilling voice ever! The crew did a great job on him! Tho one thing I noticed is why is every big villain always in a weakened state? Darth Vader, Hordak, Aaravos, Zarkon, every anime villain. I just noticed this trope is overused, but I hope we can see Belos at his strongest and see how powerful he is. I have high hopes for him!

-Lilith discovers Luz is there & decides to use her as a decoy to lure in Eda. Which she succeeds when Eda goes there all angry for daring to drag Luz into her issues. I love how Eda doesn’t even try to stay calm she just straight up attacks Lilith & you can feel her angry.

- Speaking of that fight, best fight in the series thus far! The animation, the spells, the music, the raw emotion, it was all down great! It does remind me of a DBZ style of fighting when they’re moving so fast that your eyes can’t catch up & their magic surrounding them like Eda went super Sayion, I’m not complaining I like those kinds of fight & The intensity you feel in the fight is overwhelming. Luz’s life is at stake and Lilith even uses her as a human shield. She knows how much Luz means to Eda & was willing to kill her. Hell, she even threw Luz toward the spikes and Eda had to save her, then they both struggle with Eda trying to lift her up & Lilith trying to press her against the spikes & then Eda slowly turns into a monster THIS IS HOW YOU WRITE A FIGHT (takes notes she ra)

- Now the biggest bomb drop in the series. IT WAS LILITH WHO CURSED EDA. she blurted it out in a rage of jealousy it seems. They were insulting each other on how one is better than the other. Then when Lilith says “THEN WHY WERE SO EASY TO CURSE?!” My jaw dropped, I suspected they would tell us but not this episode, you see can see the hurt & betrayal in her eyes when it was her own sister who cursed her. Like ouch. From what I suspected is that Lilith was jealous of Eda from what their exchanges told us. But why was she jealous of Eda? Friends? Magic capabilities? Power? Maybe fighting over a crush? What? Whatever the reason is does not excuse doing that to your sister and your YOUNGER SISTER AT THAT. Goodness & I thought Edric and Emira took it too far with the diary thing. I’m officially part of the hate Lilith club. Idc what you do but hurting your sibling like that is the worst thing you can do to them, just imagined how much Eda suffered for DECADES with this curse. No redemption can fix that. But boy do they need Family therapy or just punch it out that works too.

- I loved it when Eda went into rage mode when she found out it was Lilith who cursed her. Her own sister. Like damn that has to hurt knowing your own family did that to you. She deserved to beat Lilith to a bloody pulp & I’m happy she didn’t even bother to listen to Lilith she just wanted to attack her & I don’t blame her one bit.

- Ugh the scene where the curse overtakes Eda was a heart wrenching one. She knows she slipping away and tells Luz to take care of King & Hooty & to stay safe before she slips away. When Lilith told Luz that Eda is with her true family made me want to punch her more than Amity’s parents. You feel how helpless Luz felt & I hope they work towards her character with that feeling because Luz is happy go lucky & seeing her in despair makes for great character development.

- it kind of reminds me of when Queen Angella sacrifices herself In season 3 but I hated how they never acknowledged it since season 4 & she doesn’t even return by the end season 5, they pretty much forgot about her. We know for sure Luz will never leave Eda behind & will go save her.

- So we know Luz will go back to save her cuz we do see her wearing the cape Eda made her in the promo. Also we have 1 episode left so we know she’s gonna attempt a rescue mission for Eda but will she succeed? She’s up against the emperors coven! She’s gotta pull all her cards on the table & team up with her friends.

- A witch loses a true way. It could refer to Lilith officially turning to the dark side or Eda being lost in her curse even into season 2. Knowing Disney, they will give us a happy ending cuz it’s Disney but I will be pleasantly surprised if Luz fails to save Eda by the next episode.

- One last thing, I like the credits had no music, just silence. It reminds me of in full metal alchemist whenever a character dies the credit are always silent. I guess it’s meant to represent despair in a way? Or change? Yeah it think it’s change.

- This is why shows should focus on the plot because when you do, it delivers for some great storytelling & this episode surpasses all of the episodes combined. when you focus on the story & lore & characters it makes for great emotional impact of an episode and I hope Dana and the crew continues to do this. This show has so much going for it & people who only watch a show for a ship are clowns because this is what you’re missing out on. an amazing story. I applause Dana & the crew for this episode, really outdid yourselves!

- Overall 9.7/10 it was phenomenal!

#the owl house #luz noceda #amity blight #owl house #eda clawthorne #willow park #gus owl house #toh spoilers #toh #toh hooty #king the owl house #lilith clawthorne #emperor belos #Emperor coven #agony of a witch

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maddiicake · 4 years

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Why Both FMAB and FMA03 are good and should be treated as Independent Stories:

I will go on the record of saying that Appreciate and Love FMA as a whole and love both series for what they are. And while it may sound like a broken record saying things like this... there’s still hateful words against those who like one over the other. So, I’m here to make this post addressing that both FMA2003/03 and Brotherhood are great in their own way and should be respected as their own individual stories.

Also warning there will be obvious spoilers.

What I liked about the Original (FMA03/2003) Series:

I watched 03 before delving into Brotherhood, and even before reading the manga. Now, I know Brotherhood and Manga fans are the small minority of the fandom, while 03/2003 fans make up the majority. That being said, many of these people simply can't get used to 03 after watching Brotherhood.

However, for me, I was happy because: A) I got more FMA to watch, and B) The differences in 03/2003 simply made it even more fun to watch, so for it was no trouble getting used to this anime.

But if I were to be specific of what I liked, I’d say I liked the following about FMA03/2003:

Characterization of the Protagonists and all the 'good' guys: The show heavily focuses on the relationship and tragedy of Elric Brothers, and 03/2003 portrays it much better with such a deeper level. The relationship between both brothers is intimate, and it feels like a genuine sibling bond. I also enjoy the fact that the anime shows that even if Ed follows his ideals, he, like any human, can break away from them under severe pressure, which was beautifully shown in the 5th laboratory arc. As for other characters: Scar in this version is a total opposite of his Brotherhood counterpart. He is written realistically in the 2003/03 anime. His absolute hatred for the military is more legit, and he feels morally grey in this anime. Izumi Curtis for me was also portrayed better in this version. Meanwhile, other Characters like Roy, Winry and Alex felt the same to me throughout both versions--so, not much change there.

Worldbuilding: The 2003/03 anime does a fantastic job at portraying the widespread effects of war and politics, Alchemy, etc. and how it has affected the people of the FMA World. For example, in Episode 16, “That Which is Lost”, Ed meet, a guy who had lost his limb while working as a soldier and was reluctant to use an automail prostetic because he wanted to “retain his wound”. Now, this episode itself was more so filler and didn’t really matter to the main plot of the story in itself; however, I feel that it was added to series to portray the depth of the FMA World, and how everyone has different reactions to the events that happened in the 2003/03 anime. Also, many of the events and how they unfold in this anime seem to parallel the middle east, which just makes all this feel realistic and provides some occasional social commentary which is quite nice. I also like how the first few episodes take their time to slowly and, with great subtlety, develop their world.

Thematic Depth: FMA2003/03 is dark, grim and kind of realistic--more so compared to Brotherhood. While, both versions of the anime deal with some important and mature themes, FMA2003/03 takes it to the next level. The 2003/03 series focuses on the Law of Equivalent Exchange, and shows how putting blind trust in it is a terrible thing to do. The show also focuses on how obsession, a denial of reality, and the inability to move on can be a bad thing. Moreover, sometimes life just simply isn't fair, and we should accept it; however, always try to improve what we have. All in all, we have to understand the consequences of our actions. That life is uncertain, and sometimes we don't get everything, and even we pay a price for it. All of these themes mixed in with the meaningful dialogues and the dark tone, made me appreciate this anime. For example, in episode 48, when Roy and Ed talk for the last time, that’s the pivotal point that brings all these themes together.

A Good Start: The Show had a better start than Brotherhood, simply because 1). We have more time with Maes Hughes and Shou Tucker, and 2). The Liore arc. Despite BONES studio and it’s tendency to create anime too early *when the mangaka is barely halfway through their series), they made it work, and, with the material they had, the 2003/03 series was given enough time to bloom. The 2003/03 series was simply immersive and very emotional, especially during The Curtis Arc, as an example.

Soundtrack and The Art Direction: I feel like both are equally good. However, I will go on the record of saying that I don’t think “art style” is what makes a series, nor is it an important factor. It’s nothing more than glorified “eye candy” However, for the sake of argument (especially since the “art style” is the first thing that “03 Stans” mention) I’ll be adding it in here. Both the 2003/03 and Brotherhood series have some amazing and beautiful orchestral OSTs in their respective soundtracks; thus, it added to the immersion of their respective series. In FMA2003/03, the color palette is very unique, sometimes it feels dull but it just suits the dark tone of the series.

All in all, I am impressed by a lot of aspects of the 2003/03 anime series, but as much I love and respect it, there are lot of things this anime messed up and I will note that as well.

The antagonists were... Meh: While I really love and enjoy the direction and depth BONES Studio added to the Homunculi... some of the other antagonists could have been better (or just not added at all imo). For example, Frank Archer... he has no reason being there except for convenient plot device to the point it feels forced. Though, him becoming that weird cyborg always makes me laugh just because of how dumb of a character he became because of it. Speaking of which, him becoming a cyborg was just... weird. It was like the Studio staff were trying to make him “cool” by making him into some crossover of The Terminator and Two-Face from Batman, but it just failed. As for Zolf Kimblee... He is still sadistic and likes making things explode, much like his Brotherhood Counterpart. But... that was it. Other than that, he was just boring. Him and Archer were both just the staple 90s Kids Cartoon Villains; not much to them except “Muahahaha I’m evil”. Now Dante... I’d say that she’s a good villain to an extent. Her as a villain is very subjective within the fandom, depending on who you ask. While I believe that she could have been just as great a villain as Father, her character was rushed and her goals were a bit vague and unexplored. I like how, like with Father, she had ties Hohenheim; however, that backstory and those connections were introduced a little late. So, in the end, she just came across as more of the generic Vindictive Ex-Wife, and just a generic female villain. As for the Homunculi... I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I LOVED their portrayal in 2003/03. They were the “saving grace” of the entire team of the villains within the 2003/03 series. My favorite of the bunch were Lust and Greed--namely Lust, because of her ties with Scar. Envy came at a close second, but only seemed so because of a way to back up Dante as a villain, and the other Homunculi seemed a bit more underdeveloped as characters.

The Plot's quality drops after episode 35- Okay don't get me wrong. The first 35 episodes for me were 100/100. After that? a 60/100. Why? Because everything after that point feels contrived and feels forced. It's as tho, they are trying to do everything they can, even if it doesn't weave in, to make the brother's life miserable. Archer doesn't die and pops up, with his automail? Alphonse is there to be turned into a bomb, and become a philosophers stone. Okay, but why does this feel so forced? Also, can we talk about Nazi Shit? Now, I feel the brothers being separated is the perfect ending to this anime thematically and I have nothing against it, but A Nazi gate? Why? It was so sudden and pointless. It was never foreshadowed. They just showed it to make it as tragic as possible, because they didn't know of any other way to twist the plot, without convenient and totally forced plot devices. Also, How can Dante make Gluttony Mindless? Why is Juliet Douglass's Secret so obvious, when it can be fatal if leaked? Plot- Holes, Also, why are the Homunculli named the way they are? It just doesn't make sense. Also, FMA's Plot has an air of mystery to it, but it doesn't execute properly. I don't hate the end, I just felt disappointed, because the buildup towards it was terrible.

Now, I give a bit of grace concerning how the plot sort of dropped off and felt rushed halfway through, as well as the characters being underdeveloped and rushed. After all, Studio Bones was making up the majority of the material and took it in their own direction. Some factors to all of these cons in FMA2003/03 could be because of the Studio’s lack of a budget to flesh the characters and plot out more. Or, they had created so much additional material for this series that it became overwhelming.

As a writer, I can attest to the fact that “Character Overload” or “Element Overload” can either make or break a series, depending on how you handle it. That being said, there need to be a balance when it comes to these factors.

However, FMA2003/03 ended around 2004-05, So what we got is what we have.

Now, with that out of the way, let’s get on to the analysis of FMA: Brotherhood:

Characters: There isn’t a single character in this version of the series that I can choose as a “favorite”. Because, honestly? I lile them all. They’re all well developed and lovable in their own way, and have their own demension of depth to them. No, they’re not as deep as they aare in FMA2003/03, but from a writer’s perspective, that helps keep a balance with the overall plot of the stories. Now, some minor characters were just outrageous, but not to the level of boring (like 03!Kimblee and Archer), for example... Darius and Heinkel. There isn’t a vast difference in Brotherhood’s and 2003/03's cast of characters. However, if I had to note a difference, FMA2003/03′s characters were are more on the edge of realistic and Brotherhood’s were just... Loveable. However, that doesn’t mean that one counterpart of a character is better/worse than another. Both are quite memorable in their own way. Of course, in my opinion Brotherhood's villains are just better than 03's villains. Sure, the Homunculi aren’t given as much depth, but, they have redeeming qualities near the end of their time (i.e. Envy, and GreedLing). When Father was first introduced... his character made me think of how Dante started out, and I was worried that his character would end up just as rushed and he would just be the generic cliche Shounen villain. By the Promised Day Arc, however, I was surprised. Yeah, Father was still very shounen-y villain, but still a pretty darn good villain. I feel his backstory, and how he discarded all his human qualities which led to the creation of Homunculi was well put together, and I felt the concept how he created Alchemy in Amestris, while Hohenhime helped build Alkahestry in the east was well put together, and helped build the world of FMA (literally). To put it simply, his character was much more interesting than Dante, because it was fleshed out more. The Homunculi were awesome as well, Lust did her job, Pride and Wrath were simply awesome, GreeLing's development from an anti-villain to anti-hero was exceptionally well written and not the cliche anti-hero, which I can appreciate. Envy is the character you love to hate. And Gluttony and Sloth did their Part as Well. While I enjoyed 03′s portrayal of the homunculi, I felt like they only fleshed out some for that series (i.e. Lust) while others were just left to fall flat. With Brotherhood, all the Homunculi were evenly balanced out in their characters, not too much depth and not too little. Solf Kimblee was still the sadistic baster, but at least his entire personality was more explored this time, and I liked how they portrayed his psyche as an added affect to why he has his views.

Plot: Bortherhood’s plot was more fluid and weaved in seamlessly. As a lover of all things continuity... Brotherhood did it right, and every time I find an analysis of a teeny tiny subtle continuity detail (i.e. Ed’s gash on his forehead that lasts a few episodes), I get a writer-gasm! Sure, there were few plot devices and filler here and there. But the plot in gneeral wasn’t rushed or choppy, nor did it leave any holes in it. The way Brotherhood portrays it’s plot is to keep you as engaged as possible, adding some silly comic relief here and there to balance out the dramatic intensity every so often. Unlike 2003/03 where is was just one depressing and dark element after another, Brotherhood added in the comic relief points not and again to give it’s audience a break. And, that’s what I really appreciate, and think is a great story writing technique. All in all the Brotherhood series is literal binge-watch material

A Great Shounen: Many Shounen anime have their Arcs for the purpose of portraying the progress of a character, and keep introducing new villains; however, depsite this, there is rarely a sense of mystery, intrigue or a moving plot in a Battle Shounen Anime. What Brotherhood did was just that, except make it more digestible (and not super long like Naruto or One Piece), and added a great thematic exploration. For a shounen it was quite deep, the plot structure was more like seinen, and characters were awesome. In a way, we got everything we could in a Shounen anime that only lasted a little over 50 episodes: Depth, plot, characters in a shounen.

Thematic Exploration: Both FMA 2003/03′s and Brotherhood’s themes are the same, but Brotherhood makes it a bit more lighter. All the while, it also manages to raise questions on additional themes: revenge, truth, knowledge, sacrifice, worth of a human life, and many other things.

Soundtrack and Animation: Same as the analysis in the part of FMA 2003/03, and, once again... I will restate that I personally don’t believe that art style is what’s important to a series. It’s nothing more than glorified “eye candy”. However, for the sake of this analysis, I will be adding it in here. While Brotherhood’s art style and animation is more simplistic, it’s much easier to create those dynamic poses and expressions on an animation level. While FMA2003/03 did have it’s dynamic moments, it was mostly only during battle scenes or the really heavy moments in the series. Brotherhood maintains it’s art style through the series and keeps it a balance, so that some scenes aren’t too much animation but also not too little. And, both FMA2003/03′s and Brotherhood’s OST Soundtracks are beautiful orchestral pieces that really add additional effect to a scene that the respective series are trying to portray.

A sense of conclusion: A lot of Shounen Anime get prematurely cancelled, most Seinen end in a bittersweet manner. That’s why FMA2003/03′s ending with the fate of the Elric Bros was a bit more preferable for those who like a more realistic ending. But, I enjoy a story with a more conclusive ending that wraps all the plot points up together without leaving too many holes. Yeah, the “happy ending” of Brotherhood is cliche, but “happy endings” wouldn’t be “happy endings” if they weren’t. Not to mention, those types of endings are rare, because people really don’t want to write them, and, when they do, they’re rarely done well. Ed’s entire charcter arc wrapping up to where he swallows his pride as an Alchemist and gives up his Alchemy to bring his brother back is both wholesome and satisfying, because, through the show, it shows his progression and growth from beginning to end. And, having an arrogant character obsessed with Alchemy give it up and learn to humble himself because of it.. it’s really uplifting.

Now let's talk about the Cons within the Brotherhood series, they aren't a lot, but still, they did affect my experience quite a lot.

Overuse of Comic Relief: While the use is a nice balance to the already dark and dismal atmosphere of the series, it felt a bit overused. So much so that some emotional moments were inconvenienced by the use of that kind of humor. It was a bit much and created dissonance with the tone the scene was trying to portray. Now, it worked more in the Manga, because of the more visual gag of it, but, sometimes the visuals within the manga don’t translate as well to an animated one.

A Rushed First Half: While FMA 2003/03 began “In Media Res” with it’s first episode and then started a “flashback episodic arc” with the next handful of episodes.. Brotherhood just jumped right into it. While, yes, it was a better balance to not have the characters’ depth right at the beginning (slowly revealing it as the show goes on), the first half of Brotherhood was 0-100 through just the first few episodes. To the point it feels like the audience has to catch it’s bearings. But, once you get on the same page, it’s enjoyable from there.

So what’s the Point of this Ted Talk-esq FMA Post?

I’m sick and tired of seeing 03 Stans and MangaHood Stans fighting each other over just the smallest detail, especially when 03 Stans decided to bring leftist politics into it for no reason.

Personally, I just appreciate the fact that both series exist, ever since I've got in the franchise, it has become a part of my life, and still to this day is part of my life. Sure, I’m forever going to be part of this fandom.. but, I still see the beauty that peeks through the ruins and ashes of destruction now and then. I appreciate both series. Sure, I do prefer Brotherhood more, and get called a “Nazi” just because of it (ironic considering FMA: CoS was the movie sequel to 03... -__- ) , but 03 was excellent as well in it’s own way. It was very involving while FMAB was engaging. Both shows are something which you can learn something from and get attached to.

All in all, comparing both shows is okay, that's what I did here, but having a debate over which one is better isn’t just inherently bad... it’s TOXIC. Both series have their pros and cons, and they’re starkly different from each other. They’re two sides of the same coin. But, most importantly they are extremely important and impactful, so Pls don't have death battles over which one is better, don't say bad things about any fanbase, be respectful, and most importantly watch both and try to appreciate them. Because trust me liking both is a pretty darn good feeling.

#fullmetal alchemist #fmab #fma 03 #fma 2003 #full metal alchemist brotherhood #madiis musings

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snowtimeisbesttime · 3 years

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Thoughts and questions on Hiveswap Act 2– Part 1.

**DISCLAIMER** I haven't played through the entire game yet! I got to the intermission in the whole trial thingy, and will continue tomorrow! Therefore, I Am Not Looking at anything yet, only posting. I'll probably come back and edit this once I've actually finished the game.

-Did the default names for Xefros & Dammek's lusii change?? I loaded my Act 1 save, and I'm sure they had their default names (Zoosmell and Cornibuster) there, though I'm also pretty sure i accidentally unlocked the “name the lusii” achievement on that save by clicking on the text windows without actually changing their names so... Dammek's lusus is called Toothy now i guess?

-On that note, if Xefros' lusus died I'm going to fucking scream. Even though I'm pretty sure we've barely seen him on screen since like the end of Act 1 but Regardless.

-We see Charun's cave, and it turns out they were neighbours with Zebede all this time, but they're nowhere to be seen at the train?? unless they grabbed an earlier one... Charun did get a death flag the size of the pacific ocean, when interacting with their weird sculpture with a lot of legs and arms surrounding a mouth, but Zebede's just gone without a trace? The bees are gone and there's a hole in the side of his hive, but his lusus doesn't seem to be particularly upset? And neither is Charun's, assuming that huge bug near the cave is their lusus. (Idarat the canon fantroll #3 doesn't appear at the train either, but that's probably for the same reason there aren't any jade or teal background characters: to keep the court scene neat)

-The drones are supposed to be en route to the station, supposedly to fix the ticket machines but probably to cull whoever tripped the alarm on them... i sure hope they don't follow the train or anything orz

-Mostly everyone seems to resemble their respective Friendsims, more or less:

Fozzer appears to be scratched still, yet more philosophical. Also he's not in the train either.

Folykl seems just a touch friendlier than in her friendsim (and Kuprum's still just as hyped about becoming a helmsman as before, even if he seems to know more details about it now).

Chixie's more anxious, probably because it seems she's been doing stuff as The Mask for a while now, and she's going to fuck shit up at Jeevik Week. She says she's not alone in that, and considering it's apparently confirmed that the random troll from her good end Was Dammek all this time... is she also actively in the rebellion? Also is it just me or does her sprite look somewhat scribblier than everyone else's? Even the background characters??

Elwurd's pretty much the same, and it does seem her flirting with Joey was mostly to try and get her to buy something. Also... if her fake tickets were so good, why didn't she just use them, instead of giving them to Joey and Xefros? Like, I get Marvus and Boldir Knowing Stuff, but her?

Zebruh's paying attention to Marvus instead of Chixie, which. Small mercies. He's still a dick, and we're still doing the whole “clowns are peak oppressed” thing.

Marvus seems to still be perfectly nice to the main characters, and perfectly willing to let other people die in order to help them advance (getting Zebruh to sign up for Slam or Get Culled, Daraya if you fuck up in the trial thing, Hopefully Not Any More Cases...) He is helping Tyzias out with her defensive legislaceration experiments, though, and basically everyone who isn't Joey seems to think he might flip his shit and murder someone, as clowns do. At least people don’t seem to lose their minds around him anymore.

Vikare's basically the same, but Joey immediately picks up on his Jake Vibes and instinctively dislikes him.

Diemen eats people???????? as in, actively????????? wtf?????????

Skylla seems to be pretty much the same, but she's obviously worried because Ladyy's sick!! God I fucking hope we do get to help her out before the end of the game.

Marsti's also friendlier than she was in her volume, though I remember MSPAR was particularly prone to sticking their foot in their mouth in that one.

Cirava's surprisingly more trusting than they were in their volume (and also, their eye's light green and not teal). Also, apparently they gouged their other eye out on stream?????? as in live???? besides that, good to see not All of the powerful psionics get succesfully indoctrinated.

Polypa's also rather willing to help out, though we still don't know what the heck happened to her.

Boldir's suitably mysterious, and probably also involved with the rebellion... she does call Xefros “burgundy figurehead”.

Konyyl and Azdaja are still having relationship stuffs, but in the end they clearly care the most about each other. (he still doesn't seem to give a fuck about helm stuffs so far?) The question is, who exactly were they hunting down??

The jades and the teals are basically the same as their Friendsim incarnations, as far as I've seen. The one major change to the jades (besides jade lore which i'll discuss further down) seems to be that hatched2dance is now one of the biggest reasons for their fights, and Bronya does get a crunchy bit of Backstory (the jade from her past that got culled because of the Rainbow Hemotions saga, which is also the reason she's so hard on Daraya now)

On the teals, Stelsa and Tyzias seem to have a teensy bit of quadrant vacillation going on?? Tirona seems to be more focused on becoming a history revisionist than a memeagandist now, and it would also seem that Tegiri's the one into vampires now (or at least, Tagora's better at hiding it And a lot better at not getting involved with the whole mess that is whatever the heck the jades are doing)

-Psionics can have single-colored eyes!! tbh we'd already seen this back in Tegiri's route in Friendsim but it's good to Actually See it visually.

-Also, nice to see that Xefros *can* go toe to toe with the strongest psionic we know in all of Hiveswap! (95% sure that I've seen someone theorize something like this might happen?? I personally wasn't expecting it here but anyways Xefros you're doing amazing sweetie) What's not so nice is that he's only shown this strength when Azdaja hurt Joey (as far as i've played of course)... so unless he like unlocks his potential or something so he can do Big Psychics without seeing his friends get hurt beforehand we're in for some Angst.

-Also if Marvus got his ticket from Cridea (and Chixie won hers in like a raffle or something) then why couldn't she have given Xefros and Dammek some?? like, Dammek's been to one Jeevik Week already. Fiamet also told her about Joey, but by then they were already in the train.

-Me: Xefros' microphone's going to be important in act 2! Also me: *has to give it to fucking Zebruh to get his ticket*. Oh well, that's one thing for the Second Playthrough of Achievement Getting (plus: wearing the cone horns, having Joey introduce herself to Boldir, getting through the whole ace attorney segment without game overs...)

-We get the Quadrant Explanation #1000, sans auspisticism.

-It's vaguely implied that Dammek has also read some Soldier Purrbeasts books?? He's told Xefros the whole “death creates a bond deeper than matespritship or kismessisitude” thing, apparently! So if he's not secretly into troll warrior cats then. That sentence's more than mildly worrying??

-JADEBLOOD LOREDUMP PART THE NTEENTH: Okay first of all it's implied that More cloisters exist? Which in retrospect is pretty much obvious because you can't expect only six trolls to take care of All the troll grubs in existence. Also, the reason jades can't sneak out of the caverns anymore is “because they get Drone'd”, and it seems to be implied that they Can't go out At All*, which kinda contrasts with Friendsim (where literally all the jades snuck out of the caverns at least once: Lanque, Daraya and Wanshi in their own routes, Lynera in Vol 18, and Bronya in Vols 6 & 18). One of their tasks seems to be guarding Forbidden Literature, and Xefros states that they either cull or indoctrinate the most powerful psychic grubs.

-It's also stated that all of our jades were chosen for the cloister when they were basically wrigglers, while Lynera states in Friendsim that she's only been 2,43 sweeps in the caverns. (Considering Bronya's new backstory, it seems that capability to become a rainbow drinker ISN'T the qualifying factor for getting cloistered– depending on how exactly that jade died). It comes to mind that regular, non-cloistered jades might not really know about all these logistics, as it seems that at least Bronya wants to keep them secret– and therefore I don't have to go back and re-rewrite yet another chunk of Mirrorbent orz.

-Lastly, Xefros says they will all become nuns (btw, space church was mentioned in Lanque's route!) when they reach their Ordeals, and we already knew they'd be forced to live in isolation from Friendsim, but during the ace attorney thingy Lynera says she's NOT going to leave the planet because she'll become a midwife and tend to the Mother Grub (basically what we all thought jadebloods did back when we only had the ancestor stuff on Homestuck)... but either Daraya or Lanque told her that they weren't real? So either there's more jade propaganda that we didn't know about, or...

-*The one exception to this is, coincidentally, Jeevik Week, and it's apparently because Trizza herself made it so jades could go too, 3 or 4 sweeps before Hiveswap... why's that? What's so important about Jeevik Week that Trizza would do this? Iirc Cridea and Trizza were sort of set up as opposing forces (?? words), all the way back from the first bunch of concept arts we saw of them? The first thing we learnt from Trizza was that she was the “second best at memes”, and on Cridea's first appearance, when troll twitter was still Prongle, she said that some chick was stealing her memes... and now, Cridea has exactly one follower less than Trizza, who everyone in Alternia's forced to follow... would that person be the heiress herself?

#hiveswap #hiveswap spoilers #hiveswap theories #joey claire #xefros tritoh #thoughts and questions #long post #no really this got Long #idk how much of the game this covers tbh #and i will find out Tomorrow

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sagesparrow394 · 4 years

Text

Turn It Off

Fandom: Sanders Sides, The Book of Mormon

Ships: Intrulogical, Logan has a little unrequited thing for Elder Price

Summary: Elder Logan Berry is not homosexual, no matter what his newly assigned mission partner, Elder Janus Ceitful, might say. Definitely not. He is a good Mormon, one of the best, and will prove it by converting the two brothers in the neighbourhood who are ‘unconvertable’. It totally won’t backfire in any way.

----------

“Do you have any idea where they’re sending you, Elder Price?”

“Well, of course we don’t really have final say over where we get sent, but I have been praying to be sent to my favourite place in the whole world...”

Logan Berry couldn’t help but stare at Elder Price, pure admiration in his eyes, as he responded, “Well, if you prayed for a location, I’m sure Heavenly Father will make it happen. You’re like the most smartest, best, most deserving Elder the centre’s ever seen...”

It was true. Logan had lived his whole life labelled as the second best. His parents had always said to him he should be more like that Elder Price. But no... Logan knew he could never compare... Elder Price was destined to do something incredible. He was just so perfect, wonderful, handso-

No! Elder Berry, this is exactly why you aren’t as good as Elder Price! Turn it off, turn it off, turn it off...

“Elders! Form a line and step forward when your name is called!”

All the Elders quickly did so, Logan feeling his heart thudding in his chest as he found himself stood beside Elder Price. Imagine if they were put together as mission companions! Logan could finally learn from him, and make his parents proud. He hardly payed attention as the other Elders were put in pairs, now daydreaming about he and Elder Price going away together...

“Elder Price!”

“Yes sir!”

Please pick me, please say me...

”Your brother will be...”

Please please please!

“Elder Cunningham!”

Logan’s heart sunk. But... wouldn’t it make sense the best two Mormons would be put together? Then they’d be an unstoppable force, converting all the people in... where was Elder Price going?

“Uganda!”

Oh. Now Logan couldn’t help but feel sorry for Price. He knew that it was the other Elder’s dream to go to Orlando. Not to mention, his mission companion didn’t exactly seem very... well... sensible and focused.

“Elder Berry!”

Logan perked up upon hearing his name, and stepped forward, straightening his tie. “Yes, sir.”

“Your mission companion will be... Elder Ceitful!”

Logan’s shoulder’s slumped, face paling. Oh no.

Elder Janus Ceitful was... well, according to Elder Ceitful himself, he did not align himself with the Mormon faith. In fact, he despised it. He’d rant about it being ‘homophobic’ and ‘racist’ and ‘a cult’. Apparently, he was only in the church because his parents forced him to be, and if he tried to leave the faith, his parents said they’d kick him out and cut him off, leaving him homeless and near broke. He claimed that the second he had a stable job and his own place to live, he was never coming to the church again.

So, in short, he would be no help to Logan on the mission.

Just great.

“And your location is... Orlando!”

They were going to Orlando? Logan knew a lot about Orlando, as it was where Elder Price always talked about wishing to go. He felt even worse now. He was living, no, stealing Elder Price’s dream...

Logan was extremely close to losing it.

He was waiting in the airport at the gate for his flight. His parents had long since left after saying their goodbyes, so now he was alone.

Alone with Elder Ceitful.

“I really don’t get how you can happily go along with this shit,” the Elder in question said, flicking through his copy of the Book of Mormon. “It is the single most disgusting thing I’ve ever read - and I had a friend in high school who wrote and then forced me to read a lot of kinky shit.”

This. Logan was going to have to deal with this for two years.

“Is it because you like Kevin? Is that the only reason you go along with it, to impress him? Because, I’m sorry to tell you, but the Mormon faith isn’t that fond of the homosexual lifestyle. I don’t think that plan is going to-“

“What?! I-I do not have feelings for Elder Price!”

“Please, the way you stare at him tells me all I need to know. You have a crush.”

“I am straight! I like women, just as Heavenly Father intended...”

“Uh huh. You keep telling yourself that...”

Two. Hecking. Years.

Logan and Elder Ceitful had arrived in Florida, and were currently being given a tour of the local area by their District Leader and his companion. Elder Foster was very bubbly, joy seeming to never leave his light blue eyes as he pointed out all the houses around, saying which had been converted and which still needed to be. His partner, Elder Picani, was a little more subdued, but still bright and talkative. As they walked around, Elder Ceitful was barely paying attention. It didn’t matter, though, Logan was listening for the two of them, and had a notebook out, taking notes on which households needed to be converted.

As they walked around, Logan noticed something. He frowned, before looking up to his District Leader. “Elder Foster?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“You missed out Number 46. 45 has been converted, 47 hasn’t, but you didn’t tell us about 46.”

Elder Foster and Elder Picani froze, sharing grave looks, before the former responded. “They haven’t been. But we don’t talk about that house. We don’t visit it.”

“What? Why?”

“Two brothers live at that house, and they’re unconvertable,” Elder Picani said. “The first one is bad enough. He lives a very openly homosexual lifestyle, refusing to talk to us because of it. When he opens the door to us, he just says ‘sorry, I’m a lifelong gay’, before shutting the door in our faces. And the other...”

“He’s the devil incarnate,” Elder Foster finished.

“What?” Logan raised an eyebrow in confusion while Elder Ceitful’s attention was caught by the conversation.

“He’s horrible. The first time we tried to talk to him, he said ‘I’m sorry, I’m currently busy sucking Satan’s... thingy’. Except he didn’t say ‘thingy’. Since then, he’s done all sorts of horrendous things. Told horrifying stories to the Elders, shown them graphic images and videos, and other even more disgusting things. Eventually, we had no choice but to give up. I hate to admit it, but I doubt he’ll ever be able to find salvation.”

Elder Ceitful smirked. “I like the sound of this guy.”

Meanwhile, Logan’s eyes were shining. This was it. This was how he showed he was just as great, just as incredible as Elder Price. This was how he would make his parents proud.

He, Elder Logan Berry, was going to convert the unconvertable.

The next day, after a hearty breakfast, a warm shower, and a little rehearsing his script to himself in the mirror, Logan found himself walking up to the door of the ‘unconvertable brothers’ at house number 46. Elder Ceitful trudged behind him. “You know this is never going to work, right?”

“Shush. I want you to not say anything, alright?” Logan hissed to him. “This is very important to me, and I will not have you screw it up.”

“Sure. It’ll be more fun to watch you completely and utterly fail.”

Logan huffed, rolling his eyes, before turning to the door. He knocked, putting on a friendly joyful smile. After a few seconds, the door opened.

“Hello! My name is Elder Berry, and I would like to share with you the-”

He was interrupted by a wolf whistle. “Well, would you look at this... They’ve sent the cutest guy they have to try and tempt me to convert, have they?”

Logan’s face burned light pink, and he looked up at the man at the door. And then his face burned dark red.

The man had green eyes that shone like emeralds in the sunlight, tanned skin, brown hair that was shown to have a slight hint of red in it when the light caught it. The only exception was a silver streak dyed in his fringe. He had a moustache that curled up at the ends that, though it seemed to be something an over-the-top cartoon villain would wear, suited him perfectly. He was tall, staring down at Logan with a sort of hungry lust in his eyes. He was wearing a crop top and rather tight shorts which showed off his toned physique.

Logan swallowed the lump that had appeared in his throat, the mantra he had been taught since he was 13 repeating in his head. Turn it off, turn it off, turn it off...

Both the man in the doorway and Elder Ceitful smirked, the latter leaning over to Logan. “What was that you told me yesterday? ‘I like women, just as Heavenly Father intended’?”

Logan wanted to glare at him, but was still struck by the beauty of the stranger. After a pause, he did the only thing he could think of:

Run away.

As he left, he heard the two still at the door exchange a greeting.

“Jan? Is that you? No way!”

“Hey, Remus. It’s been a while.”

“No shit! Come on in, we have so much we need to catch up on! And I have a few new fanfics I need proof read!”

“Oh, I wish I could, but I’m required to stay with my mission companion at all times. Maybe you should invite us both in.”

Logan skidded to a stop, turning to his companion. “Don’t you dare!!!”

The man, Remus, grinned. “Why of course you can both come in!” He retreated back into his house, and Elder Ceitful followed, before pausing and turning to Logan.

“Come on, Elder Berry! You wouldn’t want to break the rules, would you?”

Logan hesitated. These thoughts that he had around Remus were unholy... but breaking mission rules was unholy too! He growled in annoyance, looking to his companion, who was giving him a sickly sweet and incredibly faux smile.

Logan couldn’t win, could he?

He huffed before returning to the house, and unwillingly followed Elder Ceitful inside.

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nonie-star · 3 years

Text

The sad demise of Daphne Louise

A small short story about the demise of one of my OCs. I’m practising writing darker scenes and I’m actually kind of proud of this try, so I wanted to post it.

It is about the final hours of my OC Daphne Louise.

I feel that for context it is important to mention that she was born deaf, but acquired some hearing through illegal trials of a spell, that also came with some side effects of special healing powers that no one can truly explain.

Word count: 2.599 words

Contrary to popular believe, this was not Daphne’s first time on the battlefield. She did not like to fight, she really did not. Usually, she played more of a supporting role rather than an offensive one, but today she did not care.

Today was different.

She had only learnt about the huge fight at Hogwarts half an hour ago and had wasted no time to jump in and help. Try to help at least. She could not just stand by as all her friends were getting hurt.

With her anomaly, her gift, she could help. She could really make a difference in this fight...

But first she needed to find her friends that she knew to be somewhere in the middle of things. They had gotten here before her, so long before her... how much had she missed? Had something happened that she could have helped with had she been there?

Could she have prevented someone’s death had she been around?

Daphne cursed herself for having shown up late, but she hadn’t known... it had been a day like any other, how could she have...?

Daphne kept running- she just wanted to find one of her friends, any of them. Almost all of them were here, what if they had all- no, she could not think like that. Not before she had actually found any of them... Then all of a sudden, she came to a halt. She just froze. She could not believe what she was seeing, no it couldn’t be...

Lupin and Tonks were kneeling in front of a small body. A woman with white-silverish hair, a small frame and scars covering her face and arms... It was Chiara.

Daphne gasped. “I- I don’t know what happened...” Lupin stammered. “She just... jumped in front of me, I... he was about to hit me with the killing curse, I-” he fell silent. Daphne looked down at her best friends' lifeless body in horror.

No-

She wasted no time and knelt in front of her friends’ body. She grabbed her hands and closed her eyes, preparing to start healing her.

“Daph, it’s not... going to work...” Tonks murmured, tears forming in her eyes. “We both know it won’t, you’ve tried before, and it didn’t...”

Daphne knew what she meant. She had previously tried to bring the dead back to life, but it had never worked. She had always passed out before making any kind of difference... But it had to work this time, she couldn’t just let Chiara die like this, she deserved so much better!

So, she took a deep breath, getting ready. “I know... what you feel for her, everyone does but that won’t change anything. You are just going to put yourself in danger.” Tonks said, wiping her tears.

But Daphne wasn’t having it. “Let me do it!” she said. “Just cover me!” Tonks got up, pulling Remus with her. If Daphne talked instead of using sign language, she meant business. There would be nothing stopping her from trying to bring her friend back. Usually, she used sign language. The only one that heard her talk semi-regularly was Chiara.

She closed her eyes, tightly holding her hands. But it didn’t work. This was not the time for her powers to fail, why...? Tears welled up in her eyes. No! She couldn’t just let her die!

Chiara had been Daphne’s first ever friend, the one person that had always understood her, both literally and figuratively.... the one person she had ever truly loved, even if it was unrequited. She could not let her die; it just couldn’t happen.

“Please work!” she pleaded. “Please!”

Sobs were shaking her entire body. She just couldn’t be dead, she couldn’t be... Tonks placed a hand on her shoulder. “Daph, she’s-” But Daphne couldn’t accept that, she wouldn’t! Not when she knew that she had it in her to help! One last time she focused all her energy, trying to bring her back.

And suddenly, she felt the usual energy flood through her veins. Relived she squeezed Chiaras hands, as to quietly assure her that all would be okay.

Soon, she felt the extreme tiredness taking over her body that she always felt when healing bigger wounds. Previously she had failed because of it, but this time she was not giving up so easily. With all her might, she fought back against the tiredness.

And suddenly, it just... stopped. She felt... powerful. More powerful than she had ever before. Previously she had never managed to bypass the point of exhaustion, this was... new.

In a snap, she opened her eyes. “Holy shit, Daph...” Tonks said, not believing what she was seeing. Daphne’s usually blue eyes were glowing bright green instead. Some sort of all holy Aura seemed to be surrounding her.

For a moment it seemed like the world had stopped turning, to Daphne at least. All that mattered was this, nothing else did.

It only took two minutes or so, but it felt like an eternity. But all of a sudden, Chiara opened her eyes with a gasp. Daphne let go of her hands, just to immediately give her a hug. She felt exhausted and faint but had never been prouder of herself.

“Daphne, what... happened...?” Chiara asked, confused. The last thing she remembered was jumping in front of Lupin to take the hit for him, because she knew he has a family. Had the curse missed her, or had she mistaken another spell for the killing spell? The next thing she knew was that Lupin was hugging her as well, thanking her.

“Nothing happened.” Daphne signed after letting go of her again. ”You just fainted.” Chiara looked at her, concerned. Her friend looked awfully pale, and she was trembling. “We should go, we’re not safe here.” she then signed and tried to get up. But she immediately fell back down, landing on her knees.

Suddenly, Chiara started to suspect something. “Daphne, what did you do...? Did you-” With a sharp movement of her hands, Daphne cut her off, getting up again. “Okay, okay, okay.” Chiara said, also getting up to support her. “I won’t ask again. Careful.”

She led her over the battlefield, trying to find a safe place for her friend to rest.

If what she suspected was true, if Daphne had indeed brought her back from the dead, she must be absolutely exhausted. A safe place, a safe place... she could not think of anything. Until suddenly it hit er. The Hufflepuff common room. It was safe, there were some nice fluffy couches to rest on, she should be fine.

“I know where we’ll go.” she said, leading Daphne along.

While they were walking along, using the Disillusionment charm to disguise themselves, they walked past the hospital wing. And even with all that was going on Chiara couldn’t help but stop in front of it. “Do you remember?” With a coy smile Daphne responded that of course she did. How could she ever forget the day she met her very best friend?

For a second, both marvelled in fond memories of their first meeting, but then quickly moved on to their destination.

“You should be fine here for a little while.” Chiara said, helping Daphne to the couch. With a groan Daphne sat down. She had never felt this exhausted before in her life. As she was about to close her eyes, Chiara sat down next to her.

“I just... Daphne, why did you...?” she didn’t even know how to phrase her question. “Why did you save me?” she asked, rather straight forward.

Daphne looked away, shrugging.

“Lou.” Chiara said.

That use of her nickname hit her right in the feelings. Chiara hadn’t called her that in years.

“Be honest with me.”

Daphne grew flustered and looked to the side. And then, in a single heartbeat she revealed a secret that had been weighing on her since her fifth year at Hogwarts.

“Because I Love you.”

Chiara looked at her, not quite knowing what to say. It wasn’t like she hadn’t known. Everybody had, she was no exception. But this was the first time that Daphne had ever admitted to it.

“I.... Daphne we’ll... talk about this... later...”

She knew she’d have to have this talk with her someday. After all, she was married to Jae and really had no other feelings towards Daphne than friendship... But today was not the day for it. She needed to get back out there, to go see if she could help anyone-

And that was what she told Daphne, that she needed to go.

Her arms crossed and huddled against the armrest of the couch, she nodded. Before Chiara left, Daphne reminded her not to die again.

“I won’t...” Chiara responded.

She had done it, now she had screwed everything up, Daphne thought. She should have just lied and said that it was because she was her best friend, no other reasons. But she did love Chiara, more than anything else. She had for a long time.

Daphne didn’t want to wait for Chiara to come back, she just wanted to get away. Even if that meant walking through a horde of death eaters in her condition.

Carefully she got up holding on to the armrest to not immediately collapse again. Maybe pushing past her limits had been a bad idea. There must be a reason why she usually passed out before this point. Her legs kept giving out from under her, and she barely even made it to the exit before she fell again.

This would pass, she told herself. All would go back to normal, she just needed to get out of here. At the moment, she wasn’t prepared to face Chiara again.

Things had calmed down. The fight was over, you know who had been defeated... Chiara looked over all the bodies. So many people had died, even though all the healers present had tried their best... But nobody could do anything against the killing curse... except for Daphne.

Now it was time to go get her, now that things were safe... even though Chiara dreaded facing her again. She wanted to tell her that it was okay, that nothing would change... but she wasn’t quite sure how. But her feelings could wait, for now she just needed to get her out of her... Daphne seemed very weak, Chiara worried that there was something seriously wrong with her. So, she quickly ran to the Hufflepuff common room.

“What are you doing? I told you to stay put!” Daphne sighed. Busted. Chiara knelt next to her. “You need to save you strength.”

Her voice even more unsteady than normally, Daphne asked if they had won. Yes they had, Chiara said as she helped her up.

Daphne showed her a small smile, yet still seemed nervous. She pretended to fix something on her hearing aid, to not have to look her in the eyes.

“Listen...” Chiara said, while they slowly walked back to somewhere they could apparate from. “Things don’t need to change between us, if you’re okay with that...”

A little confused, Daphne asked how she could just take this so casually, especially after just finding out.

And even after all that happened, even after all this death and destruction, Chiara had to smirk. “Just finding out? Lou, I’ve known for years. You are not the most inconspicuous my friend. I was just shocked to see you admit it after so many years.”

This made Daphne blush. She did not have the energy to hit her friend her right now, but she really wanted to.

They soon reached the place where all their friends were gathered.

“It’s finally over...” Tonks sighed, a relived expression on her face. She turned to Remus. “We can go see Teddy, finally... I’m so glad...” He just silently hugged her.

Daphne had just managed to stand up straight without the help of Chiara, when she already had to watch Jae pick her up and spin her around, happy to have found her alive. She turned her face away. This was nothing new of course, but it still hurt every time.

“Are you okay?” Nonie inquired. They were somewhat friends- only really because their Dads were friends, so they sometimes had to play with each other as kids. Daphne shrugged. She didn’t feel okay, she felt like she was going to pass out- she had held on while waiting, while knowing that she was not safe, but now...

“We need to get you to St. Mungo.” Chiara said, grabbing hold of Daphne again. “You can be helped there, I’m sure of it!” But then Daphne suddenly just collapsed, right into her arms.

“Okay...” Chiara said, lowering herself down to the floor, resting Daphne’s head on her knees. “Let me see what I can do here...” She decided to first of all check her vitals and checked her pulse.

It was much weaker than she would have liked it to be... this was new. Previously Daphne had just passed out and had been perfectly fine afterwards, this was...

“I’m worried, Daphne. You are not looking very good, I really think that this is not normal, I...”

But Daphne only looked up at her with her tired eyes and smiled. That kind smile, the same one she had when they had first met.

Then, her eyes fell closed.

Chiara had to smile too, at first. Daphne had really tried to stay awake to make it easier but had still ended up passing out.

That brief moment of happiness did not last. Only a second later Chiara realised that Daphne was not breathing.

She had no pulse, she was just-

“Chiara what’s wrong?” Lupin asked, seeing his young friends shocked expression.

Chiara couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe. All she could do was drop Daphne to the floor and start doing chest compressions.

Now the others had caught on to what had happened. Nobody knew what to say, everybody was in a state of shock. They hadn’t expected this, they had thought it was over! There had been enough death today, why couldn’t it have ended there?

The only one taking action was Chiara. She couldn’t just let her best friend die like this, especially not because of her own mistakes! “Chiara, there is no point...” Tulip whispered, looking down at her old roommate's lifeless body. She had been trying her best, but her attempts of revival were doing nothing.

Daphne was gone.

Chiaras best friend was gone, but she couldn’t accept it. “Shut up! I can help her!” Desperate, she slammed a hand down on Daphnes heart. “Come on! Breathe!” But nothing happened. Daphne lied still, her long black hair obscuring the view of her pale face. She still had that smile on her face, she looked peaceful...

“I’m sorry...” Chiara sobbed, now hugging friends lifeless body. ”I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen, I just... Daphne, why..? I'm sorry...” Jae knelt next to her, softly petting her back. He too didn’t know what to say. Daphne had been a dear friend to him too, even though he knew what she felt for his wife. She had promised him that she would never make a move on her, and all these years she hadn’t.

Everybody stood in silence, watching the scene. None of them could believe it. Daphne was really gone...

Unknowingly, Daphne had traded her life for Chiaras. Would she have regretted her actions? No. She had saved Chiara, her best friend, the person she cared about the most. She would not regret her action one single bit.

#practisemakesperfect #dark #death #hogwarts mystery #chiara lobosca #remus lupin #hphm #i dont know what I'm doing #battle of Hogwarts

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scones-and-texting-and-murder · 4 years

Text

Sweater Weather

(AO3 link 2676 words, general audiences)

Written for the @holidaymixtape and featuring adorable art by @bs-acorns!

“They’re looking for a barista at the dog park,” Sam had said, a combination of words so nonsensical that Dean asked him if he’d hit his head.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I told you I’ve been taking Phoebe to the park.”

When Sam finally reached the point where he could get a dog, he’d gone right for a Great Dane, like he was making up for all his dogless years with the biggest one he could find. Next to most people, Great Danes seemed like miniature ponies, but Dean couldn’t deny that Phoebe looked perfectly proportional striding along his oversized, long-legged brother. Despite her size, she was the world’s biggest couch potato, sometimes sitting down on the sidewalk to declare herself done in the middle of walks. As it was nearly impossible to convince one hundred and twenty-five pounds of stubborn dog to do anything, Sam began exploring other options. In doing so, he discovered that taking her to a park resulted in her loping around, sniffing and peeing in a nearly infinite loop, getting some much-needed exercise without Sam needing to cajole her for blocks at a time.

Dean pretended like he wasn’t quite sure. “You mean the one where Eileen goes?”

Sam blushed and Dean smiled smugly, happy to see his big brother intuition hadn’t failed him. He’d been “casually mentioning” Eileen and her service dog with telling frequency.

That’s when Sam explained that there was a coffee shop on site at the park.

Before Dean applied for the job, he’d never considered the logic of a coffee shop/dog park combo, but the more he learned, the more sense it made. Dog people, it turned out, loved to socialize with other dog people, and they would stay at the same location for hours on end if their dogs were happy. If they could capitalize on that by selling hot drinks to cold people, then really, it was a win-win. And while Dean might not have been a dog person, he could chat up customers and make drinks like nobody’s business.

That had been a year ago. Now Sam and Eileen were making plans to move in together, and whereas Dean started out barely able to tell a bichon from a beagle, he was currently familiar with at least a half-dozen types of terrier. And while he’ll never admit it to anyone, one time he’d accurately identified a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, leaving him with the same self-congratulatory rush he imagined birders got when they added to their life lists.

Not only had Dean gotten familiar with the dogs, he’d gotten to know a number of the owners as well. Dean didn’t quite buy the theory that dogs and their owners started to resemble each other, but he couldn’t deny the perfect pairing of Garth with his tall, skinny whippet or Mildred, whose old poodle mix shared her grey curls and slow, stiff gait.

Then there was Cas.

He was tall and broad-shouldered with strong runner’s legs. He had wild dark hair that looked like he’d walked through a windstorm no matter the weather, and his eyes were an almost unearthly blue. Dean could see him with a husky maybe, or a chocolate lab that could run alongside him, its tongue hanging out as it easily kept pace.

Whatever Dean expected, it wasn’t a small and sturdy pug. The first time he’d shown up, Dean knelt down to greet the pup, and he’d asked--like he always did--the dog’s name. He made a point of trying to remember them because that was just good customer service.

Dean let the dog sniff his hand before running his palm over her short, smooth coat. Excited by the attention, the dog’s eyes bulged and it snorted through its pushed-in nose. Dean felt his own eyes widen in response and he used the opportunity to glance back up at the handsome owner. “What’s your dog’s name?”

The man took a moment to answer as he was busy gazing fondly at the snorting creature. “Zeus.”

Dean looked back at the dog who couldn’t weigh more than about twelve pounds, and laughed. “That’s hilarious.”

The man looked apologetic. “I didn’t name her.”

“No?” Dean tried not to think about the fact that he probably had an equally gorgeous girlfriend who’d bestowed the name.

“I acquired her from a rather unscrupulous breeder. It seemed wrong to change her name when everything else had been taken from her.” His brow furrowed in such a sorrowful way that suddenly a pug seemed like his perfect companion.

Dean got back to his feet. “Oh, wow. That’s great. That you rescued her, I mean.”

“Thank you,” he said with a sincerity that had Dean biting back a smile.

“Welcome to Pups and Cups.” Dean held out his hand. “I’m Dean.”

“Cas.”

Dean liked a lot of things about Cas. Like the way he kept close to Zeus in the park. Plenty of owners unclipped their dogs from the leash and settled down on a bench, but Cas moved slowly around the park with her, like he was worried the bigger dogs might get a little too rough. He liked the way Cas seemed oblivious to exactly good-looking he was, either missing out on (or not interested in) the way both men and women tried to strike up conversations with him. He liked that Cas had an earnestness about him that was oddly endearing, an almost shy formality that made each smile Dean got out of him extremely gratifying. It generally involved greeting Zeus, so Dean made a habit of addressing her and pretending to take her order before getting his. Maybe it was the predictability of the interaction, but Cas seemed to genuinely enjoy the joke. He’d give Dean that full-on smile, the real one where his eyes crinkled.

“Ask him out,” Charlie told him after he’d gone through this routine one day.

“I dunno.”

“Dean. You spent the last forty-five minutes with one eye on the door waiting for him to show up.”

“Keeping an eye out for new customers is an important part of the job.”

“You elbowed me out of the way to take his order.”

“I did not,” he insisted as she sadly rubbed her upper arm. “Wait, did I really?”

“Of course you didn’t.” She grinned, validated. “But clearly you didn’t consider it out of the realm of possibility. Oh hey, here he comes again.”

“Shut up,” he hissed at her as Cas made his way back into the coffee shop. “What’s up, Cas? Does Zeus need extra whip?” He ignored the soft groan Charlie made.

“Actually, Dean, I just wanted to let someone know that the poop bag dispenser is empty.”

“I’m on it. Thanks for letting me know.” Cas’s cheeks were pink from the cold December day. So were the tips of his ears. Something about it made his eyes look extra blue. Dean didn’t realize they were still standing and staring until he felt something whap him in the arm.

“Here you go, buddy. Why don’t you go take care of that right now?” Charlie gave him a faux innocent look and Dean looked down to find the package of refills in his hands. “I’ll watch the front.”

Charlie was the best friend Dean had ever had, and she was practically bouncing on her toes when he came back inside. “Well? Did you ask him?”

Dean shook his head. “Charlie, I’m the guy who makes him coffee and replaces the poop bags. I’m not a guy he’s looking to go out with.”

“Dean--” Charlie began, a soft look on her face that was worse than if she’d yelled at him.

“It’s fine.” He was saved from any further discussion when a group of people and dogs came in through the door.

***

As December progressed, Charlie continued encouraging him to ask Cas out and Dean continued to refuse. He was fine for dumb jokes and he knew he made a damn good latte, but Cas had a real job doing...something important. From time to time Dean overheard him take a work call on his cell phone and it was all I’ll get you the files and Let me run the numbers and other fancy shit that reminded Dean that Cas was out of his league.

It was all good. Dean could continue to look forward to the few moments when Cas had those blue eyes focused on him, he could take satisfaction in making him smile and presenting him with a hot drink on a cold day. He didn’t need more.

One afternoon, he was crouched down in front of the counter giving a handsome Shepherd mix named Otto his puppacino. Otto’s overly large dark ears perked up when Zeus bounded over to say hello. It was well past the time Cas usually showed, so Dean had assumed he wasn’t coming, but from the looks of her, today was clearly a special occasion. She was dressed in a red and green Christmas sweater, adorned with a dog wearing sparkly green slippers and a candy-striped elf hat.

“Well, look at you!” Dean said, as she pushed her snout into his waiting hand. He got to his feet, laughing in delight when he realized Cas was wearing a matching sweater. “You guys been to an ugly sweater party or what?”

The familiar smile didn’t cross Cas’s face. If anything he looked more serious, his head tipping to the side. “Why do you ask?”

“Uh,” Dean said, praying for the floor to open beneath him. Or for the espresso maker to explode and vaporize him where he stood. Anything.

“Oh,” Cas said, as if it suddenly all made sense, and Dean thought maybe he’d be able to breathe again. He pointed to his sweater. “Maybe you didn’t realize that this is a pug.”

Dean looked more closely. It was indeed a pug. A pug, wearing an elf hat adorned with sparkly pom poms perched on a shiny red and green striped present. If that weren’t gaudy enough, green and red satin bows were scattered across the sweater.

Cas smoothed his hand over his chest in a most distracting way. “It’s even a girl! See?”

“A tutu,” Dean said, not sure if he was going to laugh or cry. “She’s...wearing a tutu.” And she was indeed, made of bright red netting.

“It’s our first Christmas together.” His eyes were shining.

Charlie, who had apparently witnessed this entire debacle, came to his rescue. “Dean, could you please. Get that thing. From the back.”

Gratefully Dean nodded. “Yeah. Sure.” In the back he stood with his forehead against the cold stainless steel of the refrigerator, trying to let it soothe the embarrassment that heated his face.

A few minutes later, Charlie poked her head through the door. “The coast is clear.”

Dean thumped his head once against the fridge before straightening up. Charlie watched him, concern in her eyes as he came back out. “What do I do?”

“I...don’t think he’s upset?” Charlie glanced out the window to where Cas was doing his normal route following Zeus around the park.

“Yeah, but he thought I was making fun of him.”

“That’s because you were.”

“What was I supposed to think?” The embarrassment was making him defensive, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “Who would wear a sweater like that sincerely?” Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. “I fucked this up.”

“I have an idea,” Charlie said.

***

The next day she arrived with a large shopping bag. They were still thirty minutes from opening and she pulled him into the back.

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

She nodded decisively. “I’m absolutely positive that it won’t make things worse.”

“That’s not exactly...reassuring.”

“Look, Dean. If you don’t want him to think you were making fun of him, then you have to put your money where your mouth is.” She reached into the bag. “Speaking of, you owe me $24.99.”

“He won’t be in until this afternoon. Can’t I put it on then?”

“No way. For this to work, you need to wear it unironically all day.”

Dean pulled off his outer layer and took a deep breath before pulling the sweater over his head. ”Not a word.”

In a flash, Charlie had her phone out to snap a picture. “You’re a hero.” She moved closer to show him. The bright red sweater was dominated by a large Christmas tree made from those sequins that changed color when flipped over. Next to the Christmas tree was a pug wearing a Christmas sweater of its own. In large letters under the tree it said BAH HUM PUG.

Dean took in a long, slow breath through his nose.

“He’s gonna love it,” Charlie said, using two fingers to flip the sequins.

He pushed her hand away. “Consent is a thing. I gotta get to work.”

All morning long Dean dealt with amused looks and a variety of snarky comments.

“You lose a bet?” he muttered as sarcastically as possible with his back turned to the counter after hearing it for the umpteenth time. The more people gave him shit--little joking comments that shouldn’t have meant anything but that built up over time until he was ready to substitute decaf in all their fucking high maintenance orders--the more defensive he got, going from shrugging apologetically and trying to laugh along, to glaring, his chest puffed out like a soldier. Why the fuck shouldn’t he be able to wear whatever he wanted without people making disparaging comments? It was an object lesson in...what did Sam call them? Microaggressions. He was making a mental note to text his brother and let him know he finally understood when Cas and Zeus came in.

Now the shyness that he’d started his shift with washed over him again. What if Cas didn’t notice, or what if he thought Dean was making fun of him. Again. He heard Charlie murmur “Here we go,” as she moved into place to take over the customer ahead of Cas.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said. “Did you get a new sweater?”

“Heya, Cas. I did.” Dean knew this was the whole point, but he felt self-conscious and couldn’t seem to keep from rushing to take his order. “You want your usual?”

But Cas was still staring at his chest and a small smile had crossed his face. As Dean watched, he disappeared out of view, popping up a moment later with Zeus in his arms. “Look, baby,” he practically cooed in his rough, deep voice. “It’s a pug just like you.”

Dean stood a little taller, tugging at the front of his sweater like it would help her see better.

“May I?” Cas asked, nodding toward Dean.

“Uh, sure?” Dean wasn’t quite sure what he was agreeing to, but cradling the dog in one arm, Cas reached out and smoothed a hand over the sequins on his chest. Dean’s mouth went suddenly dry. Cas’s hand was a firm presence, warm even through the sweater. He stroked up and down, evidently delighted. Zeus snorted and pressed her nose under Cas’s chin.

It was now or never.

“Would you like to go out some time?” It came out in a rush, Dean almost breathless with nerves and Cas’s palm on his chest.

Cas went still but he didn’t drop his hand. His blue eyes widened in surprise. “I would love to.”

“Cool,” Dean said. “Cool. Ok. We’ll do that.” They stood and smiled at each other until the customer behind Cas cleared his throat. “Let me get your coffee.” This time Dean carefully wrote his number on the cup.

***

A few months later, Cas and Zeus showed up in matching red sweaters. Each one had a shiny satin pink heart with an applique of a pug in the center. In big letters were the words Pugs and Kisses. “It’s our first Valentine’s Day together,” he explained to Charlie, after giving Dean a quick kiss.

Dean was already wearing his.

#deancas #destiel #ugly holiday sweaters #cas + dogs #coffee shop au #2019 spn holiday mixtape #my writing

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cynicalkairos · 5 years

Text

Henry Hidgens Analysis

Alright, so you probably (maybe I don’t know) saw the first one, but my dumb ass deleted it. That means that you get it all again with some new things!!! YAY!!

Basically, I watched TGWDLM and something still didn’t make sense to me.

Why did Hidgens radically change his opinion about the apocalypse from opposing it to approving it?

When I rewatched TGWDLM, it baffled me. Why would a man that opposed the apocalypse to the extent of dedicating thirty years of his life preparing for it suddenly advocate for it with the promise of world peace?

Well, my theory is pretty simple.

Hidgens became infected.

Now, I can say that and end the post, but NOT TODAY! I WILL GIVE PROOF! (or what I deem as proof)

Welcome to my analytical heaven. Click to read about my theory with pictures and links!! That I had to redo :(

How did Henry Hidgens get infected?

My answer to that: when he touched the “blue shit.” (also referred to as BS) (x)

Besides Emma in the beginning when she pulled the BS out of the coffee (x), Hidgens was the only one to physically touch the BS. (x)

Even then, while Emma held the goop for mere seconds, Hidgens held the BS in his hand for almost exactly two minutes. This longer physical exposure to the BS allowed the apotheosis to start to take root in Hidgens’s mind.

Also, note how each of them held the BS.

Emma barely picked it up, holding the BS with a few fingers.

On the other hand, Hidgens had the BS molded into a ball that he held in his fist for the remainder of the scene shown here.

When the scene continued past the point of unveiling the mysterious goop, even though it was probably due to making sure that it left the stage, Hidgens still held the BS in his hand with maximum contact with his hand.

If the BS had the same consistency of maybe aloe vera or a different gel, then it absorbs into the skin faster than water through skin absorption. This ensured that the goop could get into the skin, into the bloodstream, and, eventually, the brain.

BOOM! BIOLOGY!

After that initial point of contact, the Hive slowly took over Hidgens’s mind.

The next time we saw Hidgens was when he killed Charlotte and Sam with a shotgun.

Of course, you’re probably thinking, “But, Kairos, he couldn’t have been infected! He killed them!”

Well, partially, correct. Hidgens did kill Sam and Charlotte, but something else happened before that also unnerved me.

Charlotte sang specifically at Hidgens when faced with her imminent death.

Before when faced with the possibility of getting killed, the Hive ran away, such as Charlotte pointing a gun at Doug and Copper at the end of “Show Me Your Hands.” (x)

If the note wasn’t a scream out of fear, then what could it be?

Because of the Hive’s collective knowledge of one another, Charlotte sensed the apotheosis happening inside of Hidgens, causing such a reaction from her.

Then Hidgens, oblivious to his own succumbing to the Hive, shot her anyway.

The scene continued with Hidgens forcing the remaining survivors to sing to prove they’re not one of them. You know... typical Hidgens shenanigans. (x)

However, Hidgens wasn’t stupid.

I propose that he suspected that a member of the Hive was in the room when Charlotte pointed at him. But, because of Emma, Paul, Ted, and Bill standing behind him, it led him to believe that it was one of them, not himself.

That’s why he forced them to sing, in case one of them sang perfectly.

When he found that none of them were, it eased him.

And Hidgens didn’t bother to check himself because he would know if he were infected, right?

Anyway, this leads to my next point in my theory.

Hidgens had a human side (HS) and an infected side (IS).

In “Let It Out,” Paul alternated between two versions of himself as the Hive took over his mind. (x)

So, who’s to say that it couldn’t happen to Hidgens too?

Hidgens himself said that the victims were “genetically reconstructed from the inside out.”

While the apotheosis was taking place in his mind, the HS still had control over his body with a few moments that the IS shone through. But, toward “Show Stopping Number,” those moments of humanity were few and far between as the Hive took over.

Now’s the time to analyze those moments.

One of the first moments that really stood out to me was the persistence that Emma stay behind to help him.

This was a man that had isolated himself for at least three decades. He was very capable of handling experiments by himself.

So, why would he need a lab assistant?

That’s right. He didn’t.

I believe that his lines at this point in the scene were completely influenced by his IS.

Again, you might say, “Kairos, Hidgens was just trying to protect Emma!!!”

Hidgens knew that Emma would help anyone whether or not they asked for it.

She proposed a place to stay to help the people that she had only just met. (x)

Emma also escaped Ted’s hold and shot General McNamara to save Paul (even though they were closer than the rest, she had really only known him for a day or two.) (x)

By asking her to stay behind, it gave Hidgens the chance to be alone with Emma and Ted.

At that point, Ted was no longer a threat. Sure, he could talk a big game, but he was too drunk to actually fight back.

Emma, on the other hand, could fight back. Hidgens’s IS needed Emma on his side to be able to convince others to join the Hive. Paul would listen to Emma and then Bill would listen to Paul. Emma was the key to getting the rest of the lot to become infected. This also happened in “Inevitable” at the end of the musical.

To make sure that Hidgens and Emma were alone, not only did Hidgens ask her for help, but he also approved Paul and Bill’s ideas to go save Bill’s daughter, despite the situation possibly leading to death. He assured them that the backroads were safer (x) and gave them his shotgun for protection. (x)

Although this moment with the influence of his IS controlling Hidgens, we still saw the HS of him when Paul and Emma talked before Paul left.

I don’t know whether or not it was intentional, but the look on Hidgens’s face was heartbreaking. This moment shown above was one of the last times that we see entirely human Hidgens.

Now, we know that he somewhat cared about Emma because he let her into his house in the first place. (x)

And once again using the knowledge that his backstory contained him being an infectious disease researcher, Hidgens had lost people he cared about in the past.

In that final interaction between Paul and Emma, Hidgens knew the possibility that Paul wouldn’t come back alive. Based on experience, if Paul didn’t come back, it would hurt Emma a lot and, in turn, hurt him.

Now, on that note, let’s jump to the scene with Hidgens and Emma. (x)

In this scene, there was no sign of Hidgens’s HS but rather his IS.

This shift was particularly shown through his behavior and his new opinion of the alien invasion.

First, the body language.

Throughout the beginning of this scene, Hidgens’s eyes were focused on the beaker with the BS inside of it. Even though he was talking to Emma, he never looked at or even acknowledged her at first.

Look at these two photos.

The first picture was from the first scene in Hidgens’s house and the second picture was from the scene I was talking about.

In the first picture, Hidgens was looking at Emma and, in the second picture, Hidgens was looking at the beaker.

Although he looked at Emma for a split second in the second scene, he immediately looked back at the beaker.

(Also, I would like to mention the slight blue tint in the lighting of the second picture. You’ll see why this is important later.)

Anyway, the first time that Hidgens looked at Emma was when she proposed that there was some sort of “mothership.” (x)

When she said “mothership,” Hidgens’s head instantly turned toward her, looking at her with an almost surprised expression.

I mean, I’m not the only one that found that last facial expression creepy.

Seriously.

If someone looked at me like that, I’d be frightened.

In the first two pictures, Hidgens seemed surprised that she started to figure it out.

Then, in the third, it changed to “Oh, shit. She’s starting to figure it out.”

And, finally, it went to “I must stop her from figuring everything out.”

After this moment, Hidgens looked intently at her and even initiated physical contact that he never dared to before.

He placed his hand on her shoulder (x) (x) (x) and did the iconic nose boop. (x)

Even then, this interaction between the two of them must have been out of the ordinary because Emma reacted in such a way. (x)

Not to mention another creepy expression. Jesus Christ, Robert.

Then all of Hidgens’s IS’s hopes and dreams were crushed when Emma did not agree with the idea that the alien invasion would bring world peace.

She responded with “Okay, but how do we stop it?”

At this point, Hidgens’s IS’s plan fell apart.

You see, I believe Hidgens’s IS did what the Hive did initially: coerce people to join the Hive through the means of discovering what they wanted and using that as a ploy to entice them to join peacefully. (x) (x)

But when people started to resist, they had to turn to other measures of infecting people or, in another term, violence. (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

This same sequence of events happened here.

Hidgens tried to convince Emma that it was a good thing that the human race should be eradicated to have world peace.

When Emma resisted, Hidgens drugged her and kidnapped her.

That brings us to everyone’s favorite: SHOW STOPPING NUMBER!

Oh, boy. There’s a lot to unpack here.

I’d like to establish that this scene had both elements of Hidgens’s IS and HS with some of those times overlapping.

At the beginning of the scene, it’s clearly the IS talking.

The HS would never unlock the entire facility and make everyone inside of it vulnerable to the Hive, but the IS would.

And at this time, Emma realized it.

Emma saw what was going on with Hidgens.

Even though it was fuelled by the IS, I don’t think that it was entirely the IS because he said:

“The world was already doomed not by them, but by us. I was trying to save something that could not be saved until now.” (x)

It implied that Hidgens himself thought about the apocalypse that way, not the Hive.

And of course, there was that entire goodbye to Alexa, which was definitely, in my opinion, the HS, not the IS.

Then, when Hidgens destroyed Alexa, the IS was back. (x)

The same behavior that was displayed in the scene that I talked about prior was back. He moved around erratically, he had an odd fondness toward the Hive, and initiated physical contact with Emma and Ted, all things he didn’t do before.

Then he shifted back into his HS when he mentioned having a “second chance.” (x)

After talking about musical theatre, he reverted back to his IS when he started talking about Charlotte’s anatomy after being infected, leading to the line, “This is humanity’s eleventh hour and I’ve prepared something for the occasion.”

Hidgens then proceeded to sing as his IS, but when he mentioned Working Boys: A New Musical and gave Emma and Ted the pitch, his HS wasn’t entirely present and wasn’t entirely absent as well.

During some of the parts of “Show Stopping Number,” there were moments when both were present, not fighting for control like with Paul, but coexisting because they both had the desire to sing and dance, especially when the HS was given the chance to show off something it was proud of.

You know before when I talked about the blue tint? Well, it’s coming back now.

The presence of both the IS and the HS was shown in the lighting during the song.

In this picture, there were the colors red, blue, and purple. In TGWDLM, blue is associated with the Hive. Even though red isn’t assigned to the human race any other places in the musical, I believe that, because of the presence of purple in this part of the scene, the red does symbolize humanity.

The lighting reflected Hidgens’s dual identities that appear during this song: the IS (blue), the HS (red), and the strange mix of both (purple).

For example, during the first stanza, Hidgens had a blue light shining behind him, showing that it was his IS singing.

However, when the song moved into its second stanza, Hidgens left the piano and a more colorful background appeared.

Now, if you looked carefully, most of these colors had appeared in the background of songs either prior or after this one.

- Green: “Not Your Seed”

- Purple: “La Dee Dah Dah Day”

- Red (not shown): “Show Me Your Hands”

- Pink: “You Tied Up My Heart”

- Burnt Orange: Beginning of “Inevitable”

- Light Blue: Later in “Show Stopping Number”

- Light Orange: the background for most of the parts of scenes with no members of the Hive in them

The combination of these colors with the addition of the light orange showed that the HS was present, even in the mass of songs that the Hive previously or will perform.

However, one of the interesting parts of that particular color scheme was the light blue lighting.

This is the part that he introduced Working Boys.

This is during the “Greg... and Steve...” part.

This is during the final verse before “Greg” and “Stu” joined in.

The concept of the blue lighting in my theory was similar to that of the purple. It symbolized the coexistence of both the IS and the HS. Instead of the majority being the IS like in the purple, the majority was in favor of the HS.

In the first picture, Hidgens was explaining the plot to his musical, which was something that the Hive didn’t know about. Then, when the lighting changed back to the rainbow, the IS used it to continue the singing, perfecting it.

The same thing happened with the second one. Hidgens returned to his HS to talk about the people that he lost and then went right back to singing and dancing (which I will get back to).

The third picture was Hidgens’s HS finally getting into it, relishing at the moment that he achieved his dreams of performing his musical and performing in front of people in general.

Now, before I go any further, the times that “Five o’clock can’t come soon enough” was sung, something different happened.

The lights flashed from

red

to blue

then green.

Similar to the previous rainbow lighting, these different colors were reminiscent of prior events, but only the ones that the Hive visibly harmed one of the main characters.

- Red: “You Tied Up My Heart” and Charlotte (x)

- Blue: “America Is Great Again” and Ted (x)

- Green: “Not Your Seed” and Bill (x)

Even though Ted was still very much so alive during this part, it foreshadowed his death and the death of Hidgens.

To finish the analysis of “Show Stopping Number,” the rainbow background came back when “Greg” and “Stu” appeared, signaling that the IS overtook him again, because, otherwise, how could the other members of the Hive known the harmonies and choreography to the song?

The last part to analyze is Hidgens’s death. (x)

This moment is truly Hidgens’s last moments alive and, more importantly, as a human.

When luring the Hive to his home, Hidgens’s HS didn’t think about the implications of following through with the plan. He thought that he was just going to join the Hive.

But, to completely become one with the Hive, the HS needed to be killed and destroyed.

When “Greg” and “Stu” killed him, Hidgens’s HS died and the IS took over.

This same thing happened with Paul when the grenade killed his HS and left the IS to resurrect himself, going after Emma to make sure she became one of them too.

In conclusion, Hidgens was infected and only got more and more infected as the musical went on.

———

Thanks for reading this! I hope you enjoyed this! I just find this kind of shit interesting. I don’t know if any of this is true, but this was my justification for something that didn’t make sense to me. That’s why it might not make sense. It kind of just a more refined brain dump of the last version of this.

#starkid #henry hidgens #professor hidgens #the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #my analysis #robert manion #long post #jesus christ hit me with a train #emma perkins #emma tgwdlm

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kashimos-hajime · 5 years

Text

if i time it right, the thunder breaks

Summary: “And he hated himself and hated her, too, for the ruin they'd made of each other.”

WARNINGS: swearing, it’s getting bad, mentions of (sexual, if you interpret it that way) child abuse, violence, angst, these idiots dont know how to take care of themselves but they know how to take care of each other Pairing: Detective Loki x Reader Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: thank you for the crazy response babes. truly thought this would flop and y’all proved me wrong. this is an important chapter and there’s a lot to say. i am open to tagging people so just lemme know if you want to be by sending an ask. GIF not mine

01 | ... | 03 | 04 | 05

“Stop eating my shit.”

“Fuck off,” you snap, tossing the container of gummies onto the dash. It’s only half-empty and it’s not like you won’t buy him more. “God, I fucking hate this case.” You pinch the bridge of your nose as he slams the door, shaking rain off his coat. You swallow the gummy, feeling it all the way down to your stomach. The list of level-three sex offenders is like your death sentence as you cross out another name on the list with jagged black lines. “Nothing?”

“Just some German porn. Fuck.” His palm collides with the steering wheel as you try to sink into your chair. The air is stuffy in here but you don’t have the strength to open a window. “Fuck.” He sucks in a breath between his teeth, the cord of his throat pulsing. You lick your lips, turn away.

“You need some coffee?” You lean forward and pull out the giant thermos you have filled to the brim with coffee from your bag, and he snatches it from you, letting the black roast scorch his throat. You press your temple against the cold window before he nudges your shoulder. He offers the open thermos back to you and you down it, the bitterness waking up your mind as you twist the cap on shut again.

“Where next?” Your nose twitches again as you sniff, trying to see straight at the list. Reading out the address, you fold it back into your pocket and lean into the window as the Sedan rolls into motion.

It is raining now, a gentle pattering that you could fall asleep too if you were home instead of here. David sends you a glance but otherwise focuses his gaze on the road. It’s a long night before you, and you can imagine the thermos would be empty before long.

David’s fingers tap the steering wheel when he drives. You know you’re not supposed to notice such a habit of his, but it’s a part of him, like how you know when he’s under stress, he blinks like someone squirted lemon juice in his eyes, or how he takes his coffee black because he nearly choked on watered down sugar for coffee once when he was fifteen.

But, you do. You can’t help that he’s part of you and you can’t help but smile at his young face, spitting that awful coffee into the street, one of the brightest memories in your head, surrounded by so much smoke and shadow that pulls, claws, tugs you in and then you are spiraling.

“You’re thinking loudly,” he comments, banishing the smoke for mere moments, and you toss him a look from where it had drifted into the dark trees. Bundling your coat around yourself, you recline into your chair.

“I’m just thinking about us,” you reply and he lets out a sharp breath, a gesture often paired with him shaking his head in irritation or disbelief or something. You don’t want to look at the ruins of what you’d done. “When we were younger.”

The fingers on the steering wheel pause, wrap tighter instead, and you close your eyes.

“Really?” He is stiff, every inch of him. You’re sure the cord of his neck is hard as a rock against his skin. The line of his reflection is just visible in the glass and you press your temple against the window, looking into your lap.

“The years you were at Huntington,” you begin, and this time you must look at him. There are only some times you can bring such a time up and by the twitch of the muscles in his jaw, this isn’t the best, but it bottles up inside you that you might… you just don’t want to think about it anymore. “Those were the worst years of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that.”

“You haven’t.”

“Well, I hated seeing you there. I hated seeing what they did to you.”

You can see it play before your eyes, a mere spectator to some biopic film that you are forced to see.

Two figures under the shade of the church, one tall and thin and, another carrying a can and bags and stale bread that spilled over tiny arms, food that could’ve gone to those who didn’t have a home like he did. He’d insisted you take it back, but you simply dented a can against the rock until a tiny hole formed and told him to suck the juice from the mangoes before it leaked into the moist dirt. Moonlight bathed two figures even under the shade of the church as the taller one helped the tiny one over the fence.

“I’ll come back,” you promised in harsh breaths. He held the rest of the food in his arms, granola bars he could eat quietly, bread he could rip apart in small bits and chew on, and you grabbed the front of his ratty shirt desperately despite how much he must feel, a purple and blue plethora underneath his little church uniform that’d been torn in all the wrong places. “My uncle won’t notice. I’ll come back for you.”

You thoughts drift even further back.

A hospital waiting room, reeking of antiseptic and too much bleach. This boy you met just an hour ago, sitting with his respective social worker in that antiseptic waiting room was the most interesting person you’d ever met. He had cards, and said he’d taught himself magic tricks if you wanted to see. You nodded but played goldfish instead.

“They’re not my real parents,” he’d told you almost angrily, and you’d balked at the thought. “I’m only here because they have to do something before they bring me to a Huntington Boys Home. They think I have ‘problems’.”

“Oh.” You had frowned artfully and he asked if you had a seven. You shook your head and said goldfish. “Where are your real parents?”

“I think they died.”

“Oh.” You remember the disappointment, the utter sadness compelling you to watch the boy as he looks into his cards.

“Why are you here?”

“My mom can’t take care of me anymore and I don’t know my dad.” Your shoulders had risen, fallen indelicately and the boy smiled with the teeth he had. He was missing one of the lower ones and you had smiled back faintly, nervously.

“That sucks.”

“I guess. I didn’t like her that much.”

You swallow and close your eyes as if that’ll help bat the image away but it only serves to show you the bloodied knuckles, the bruises on pale, milky thighs and the scars shown in the mist of hot showers and empty locker rooms.

“You, uh, you liked the canned fruit the best. I remembered.” Your voice is faint, barely heard over the rain and rumble of the engine that’s already just a whisper.

He swallows, too, eyes burning into the windshield. You know he’s trying his hardest not to swerve or stop the car, or even look at you, because his arms shake from the strength he holds the steering wheel. You’re quite sure it might detach if he goes any longer.

“You told me there was life outside of priests and sick fucks like them.”

“Well, I didn’t know. It was just something I heard my uncle say, when he was sober at least. He said there was a life outside of your shitty circumstance,” you reply with that indelicate shrug. You haven’t thought of the man who’d offered a roof over your head and nothing else in a while. “It was one of the few things I learned from him, not because of him.”

“You shouldn’t fucking be here,” he says softly. Your eyes trace the arch of his neck, a feather-light gaze that flickers across his cheeks, the slick-back hair, the hands that loosen on the steering wheel as you travel over a bump on the road. “This town will never be good enough for you.”

“It has you in it.” You know it’s something you shouldn’t fucking say but you can’t help it. That boy in the hospital room with the gap-wide smile sits before you and you can’t do anything about it. You turn your body inwards, towards him, and his hand finds your knee on its own accord as you settle into your new position. “I fucking hated seeing you there.” “I know.”

“I’m glad you left when you could.”

“I know.” His hand, a heavy heat on your knee, squeezes before he lifts it and your eyes dart to the warmth he’s left on you, a warmth that spreads through your body like warm wine. “I’m glad you did too, either.”

Terrible, ugly, screaming and the smell of vodka spits in your mouth. You shake off the feeling and you know that David saw you shudder. He doesn’t say anything more. Neither do you.

Time does not heal all wounds, and you wonder if love could’ve ever built a palace on sand.

You can’t sleep. Even with the father in custody, you can’t sleep. David’s arm tightens around your waist as he sleeps, but you know he is uneasy in his slumber.

Fuck.

“Sleepin’?” he mumbles suddenly and you close your eyes as if that’ll help you. “Me neither.”

“Get some sleep,” you murmur back, burrowing your face deeper into the pillow. You can still see the dead man’s body in the father’s basement and your nose twitches. You had held the father above the hole, made him look at the darkness of his basement, at the bones of his work. Made him look into David’s eyes, made him see.

Not his work, a voice in the back of your mind whispers. The devastation beside you is not this man’s work. The smell of dust and cobwebs still lingers. So does David’s voice. The boys home. Sweet fruit nectar and the taste of blood form a strange cocktail in your mouth.

That’s justice unserved, too. You suppress a shiver.

“Come on.” His voice warms your neck as he pulls himself closer, nose pressed against the back of your shoulder. You tug his arm tighter around you, fingers slipping to interlace with his. “Close your eyes.” “They’re closed,” you promise. His lips brush against the bare skin of your shoulder before a feather-soft kiss lands on the juncture between your neck and shoulder. His legs press underneath your thighs and the warmth his body radiates drowns you, melts you away until you’re nothing. He digs his fingers into your bare stomach and you can feel him blinking hard against your skin. “Sleep. Please. Don’t think about that anymore.” You utter the words so softly, so desperately you barely recognize your own voice.

“Fuck,” he whispers and something wet touches your skin. You open an eye to stare through the window, at the moon nearly blocked out by the branches outside your window as he holds onto you tighter. You feel the fire burning, an ice cold fire that makes you hurt so much. Makes you want to throw him off and rip those memories from his head. Anything to make it stop. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, but it is unheard over the sounds of his harsh, hot breaths. More wetness tracks down your bare shoulders as his arm goes taut around you. You twist around immediately, and pull him close to your chest. Your eyes are closed, your hands clutching into his hair, fingers digging into his skull, salt rain sliding over your cheeks.

He tries to speak, puffs of air that could’ve been words had he not been so choked, and you merely let him try and break you, let his hands grip bruises into your skin and trace the scars people have left behind. You trace every crack in the porcelain of his back, every fissure that you know reaches from his neck to his legs.

Why couldn’t you have chosen something other than some broken little thing? Something that does not remind you of pain and sick and ache.

You don’t know whether you ask this of yourself or to him.

When you wake up, it is hard to even get your eyes to open. You don’t remember when you fell asleep and you wonder if you even had at all.

Three days. Has it really been three days already? You screw up your face to wake yourself up as David shuffles around the room. He’s already awake and you glance blearily at the clock. It’s only 4 AM, that means…

Shit. An hour or two of sleep if you can even call it sleep. Fuck.

Pushing yourself up, you drag yourself out of bed on unsteady legs and wade to the bathroom.

You’re done in record time and when you leave, David is out of the room and in the kitchen preparing coffee. You begin to poke your head through one of his shrunken dress shirts. You’d stuff it into a pair of looser pants and tie it with a belt today. You just need something looser than one of your own tightfitting blouses. Maybe it’d help you breathe easier.

He returns moments later to button up his own dress shirt. You can see his eyes rake over your figure, over the shirt you wear, but David doesn’t say anything as you dress. The shadows of the room playing tricks on you, you pull your hair out from underneath your collar and your nose twitches. Sniffing, you try to chase away the exhaustion pulling at your ankles, trying to chain you at your bed. Your hand rubs deep into your eyes as you gather your raincoat and stuff your feet into your boots in the living room.

When the two of you are ready to leave, you a cup of black coffee already in your system and David a piece of chewing gum in his mouth, you grab your bag.

“Here.” You look up. Your huge thermos is filled to the brim with coffee, twisted shut, and you slip it into the bag.

“Thanks.”

Letting David press a lingering kiss to your temple before he opens the door, you dig through your bag to make sure you have everything.

“Let’s head to the station,” he mutters. “I’m not fucking hungry.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Adjusting the straps on your shoulder, you follow after him, locking your apartment door behind you. Neither of you speak the ride to the police station, because there is nothing to say.

Last night is already forgotten.

Not really.

Fiddling with your phone, you run a hand through your hair. You can’t describe the uneasiness, the nausea that swirls in your stomach for the first time in years. Whilst David had left in search of the owner of the home where the RV was parked, you are stuck at homebase. You rewind the tapes, watching the interrogation of Alex Jones. It’s ten hours worth of tape, worth of footage that can mean absolutely nothing and a waste of time, or be a breakthrough in the case. You scroll back as the police officers work outside your dark room.

You can hear them talking, the little tap-tap-tap of their keyboards or the sounds of them laughing at some little joke made in the break room and fight the impulse to scream.

When did you get so fucking tired? When did invisible weights chain you to a desk, make the remote effort of rewinding a task as you watch the footage reverse?

“Detective.”

You raise your head, turning only just enough to see Chemelinski standing at the door. That ugly artificial light streams in behind him and you squint at how bright it is outside the dark room.

“We got something.”

“What?” You stand abruptly and black dots invade your vision as you blink, hand finding the back of the chair as casually as you can. Chemelinski keeps talking and you catch bits and pieces as you walk after him, knuckles brushing the wall just in case your legs decide to give out on you. “What’d the father say?”

“Something. I dunno if you got the sense to make it fit, but it’s something.” The older man opens the door to the interrogation room and you walk in, eyebrows knitting together. The father is sitting there in his grey cardigan, looking rather pathetic for himself, and you sit down.

“Good morning, father.” You lace your fingers on the table, sitting upright as Chemelinski closes the door. “Detective over here tells me you said something specific about the… the child abductor we found in your basement. Care to share it with me?”

“He was… waging a war against God.” One eyebrow rises as you send a glance to Chemelinski who clenches his jaw so visibly you wonder if his teeth are gonna crack. You return your gaze to the father who has yet to look at you. Leaning back into the chair, your hands roll into dragging fists over wood.

“Anything else? About how they were kidnapped or…”

“He said… he took them in daylight. Sometimes, more than one child at a time.”

“Great.” Your knuckles rapping against wood, you wait for anything else. Nothing. Prompting him will have to be the way to go. “Did he act alone? Did he ever mention any family, partners?”

“He said he had a family. He was suffering from a great loss.”

“That’s it?” A numb nod. You stand, the chair scraping against the scuffed floor and you send Chemelinski a foul glare. Blackness swarms your vision and you blink, trying to get rid of it before he notices. “Great. Thank you for your cooperation, father.” Opening the door, you adjust the handcuffs stuffed along the back of your belt and walk down the hall. Chemelinski follows after you but you ignore the detective in favour of jotting down what you’d learned and sending it in a text to David.

Child abductor — took them in daylight, more than one child at a time, had a family. Father decided to talk.

Text me when you can. -xx

You pause, staring as the text goes through. XX.

XX.

You hadn’t thought about it before you sent it. It was merely an instinct that took over you and hollows you out now as you stare at the letters. Two simple taps of the same little shape, but it means a world of things both of you buried. You pause in the hallway, staring at that tiny screen, the pixels forming the twenty-fourth letter of the alphabet. Chemelinski sends you a strange glance, passing by you, but you ignore him as you wait for his response.

I will. -D x

He replies in a manner that means he hasn’t forgotten either. You hold the phone tightly in your fist and lift your head to the ugly artificial light as if heaven has washed you in a golden glow. Leaning against the wall, you press the phone to your chest and suck in a breath, hoping that the wind will not whisk you away.

Heading to the candlelight vigil. Could be a lead. -D x

What makes you think that? -xx

I dont know. Just something I wish we had. Ill see you soon. -D x

Stay safe. -xx

“Fuck.”

You press the ice pack against the bruising on his shoulder, sniffing with a twitch of your nose as he let out a long, drawn out moan. The coloring isn’t bad; you assume the jacket got the brunt of the damage, but you are sure it’s gonna be worse tomorrow.

“I should’ve been there for you,” you whisper, fingers brushing over the crisp gelled curls that fall into his eyes. He groans, leaning forward on his knees. The locker room is empty and you leave the ice pack on his shoulder for a second to get the elastic bandage and vitamin K cream. David lets out a huff as you return, moving the ice pack to unveil the red and purple.

“It’s fine. Shit.” Your fingers dipped in vitamin K cream, you smear it gently over the plane of his broad shoulder. “You couldn’t have known someone would’ve jumped onto me.”

“Yeah, but…” you trail off. You don’t know how to argue a point you are too tired to make. “How’s that feel?” you murmur, spreading a thin layer over his skin as he turns to watch your work. You wipe your hand of the excess and ask him to raise his arm a bit. Beginning to wrap his shoulder, you hum to yourself as you work.

“Too tight,” he occasionally says, or he’ll comment on the looseness of a certain round and you steadily make your progress. Forming a figure-eight pattern around his arm, shoulder, and chest, you murmur for him to take a deep breath before continuing. “Thank you,” he utters as you near the end of the elastic bandage. Your fingernails scratch against the fabric as you unfold a lip in the bandage.

“What for?” Grabbing elastic tape, you follow the same pattern to secure the bandage. The rip of the tape fills the silence David does not and you pause to look at him. “Loke.” The nickname feels fucking weird on your tongue. By David’s expression, he feels the same. He doesn’t even look at you as you smooth over the black tape.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“What do you mean?” You take hold of his arm, curling his hand into a fist to test bicep size. Sticking a finger beneath the bandage, you check for room and mobility. “Is it too tight?”

“No.”

“Okay, try moving it for me.” With your support, he eases into full mobility and you suppress a small smile. “Good.” You cross your arms and move to stand before him. “You need to get some sleep before the Captain calls you in.”

“You don’t have to do this for me.”

Uncrossing your arms, you step forward and run your hands through his crisp hair. He looks up and, with you between his legs, rests his chin on your stomach. His fingers interlock on your back, his arms swathing you in the heat of his shower.

Your hands run down to his cheeks as you stare into his porcelain blue eyes, all at once so dark and fragile. Purple half-moons threaten to swallow up his eyes whilst you trace the hollows in his cheeks.

There is so much you have to say. So much you need to say. But you can’t. Not now. Not in the middle of this case. You know it’ll utterly destroy the pillars of what you two are if you do and you know he’s thinking the same thing.

Your eyes search his, and you sink down to a crouch before him. He looks so much older in your arms and you wonders if that is your fault, too. Your fingers drag from his cheek to the robin on his ribs and he lifts your inked hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles where you are marked.

“Get some rest, Loke. Go home and eat.” The words taste like blood and wine in your mouth, all at once bitter and sweet and sour. You draw away and his arms fall around you as your lips find the spot between his eyes. His eyelids flutter shut, and you wonder about many things that you can’t put a name to. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Come with me.” He grabs your arm, fingers snagging your wrist and your gaze, torn from the door, lands on him. The shadows are there again, and he pulls you towards him. Your boots brush against the tile as you let him pull you between his legs. “Don’t stay here alone.”

“Loke—” Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, and the rough scratch of the bandage on one palm, the silky skin of his other, topple you from within. You remember once, once some version of you would straddle him right here and now and make him yours. When you had room inside your heart for childish little tricks and David and your work. How had you ever done it in the first place? “Loki.”

“Stay with me.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Your heart stops in your chest at the wide eyes, the marble of his cheeks. You can’t.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“We don’t do that shit,” you let out in a breath, tearing yourself away. He stands and you close your eyes as if that’ll stop the heat of him from enveloping you. Even so, David Loki has the body temperature of a nuclear radiator and you can sense him from a mile away. “David, I—” Your words ghost against blazing lips as he presses a severe kiss against your mouth. Your eyes open and you gasp, trying to breathe. He suffocates you, eyes squeezed shut. Urgent and desperate and pleading, his arms hold onto you as if the world will swallow you, take you away.

You wish to tell him that’ll never happen, so you do. Your arms loop around his neck on their own accord, your lips pushing back against his in an agonizing battle of your desire and his as you tug at his skin, fingers raking red over his back. Your palms flatten and touch the scars, tiny little things, the bullet hole from the heist in ‘08, the stabbing from the breaking and entering on Holder Street, some much older than that.

But then he pulls away, and your eyes open, cold air conditioned wind breathing against your burning skin as he tries to stop himself from kissing your aching mouth again.

He only succeeds on the second try.

His eyes are shadowed with fear and anguish, and you close your eyes, You don’t want to see that again. Not again. You hate the feeling in the very core of who you are. It feels like a personal attack, a graverobber digging up a coffin you want to remain hidden as his hands, on your neck, slide to your waist and he leans forward to kiss your cheek. His breath whispers over your chin. His thumb brushes away smeared lipstick from the corner of your mouth and you press your lips together, desperate to hold it in. Your eyes search his face, soak in every little blemish as his forehead knocks into yours.

His other hand plays with your wrist, gently pulling until your fingers interlock and he swallows, looking down at the chasm between you two. Your chests barely brush and yet you feel he is at one end of the world and you are at the other. You are at a stepping off point, and he sits on the other end of the lake.

The smell of him is everywhere, stale coffee and gum and Bearglove deodorant he buys whenever it’s on sale. You inhale sharply, softly, and all too quickly when your gazes meet. It catches in your throat, and you don’t know when your eyes began to burn but they do. His hand holds your face like a fragile little thing, and you find yourself grabbing at his arms, his waist, inked skin that runs for miles and scars that once gave you comfort and now give you heartbreak. You hold him because you are desperate and he holds you because he knows.

You beg, you beg him because you can read his mind and know his tongue, his eyes, his taste. You know his heat and wishes and darkest desires. It is why you cannot hear this — it’ll make it too real.

Do not break a broken thing, you plead. Do not stir up dust in the ruins of the dead. We know, we know, we know. We can live in denial. Don’t do it. Don’t, don’t, don’t—

“I still love you,” he mumbles forlornly, deliberately, at last, and your breath rattles in your chest. The weight that lifts is only momentary before it slams into you and you rip your hands away, fingers burning from lightning. The words barely sink in before your mouth opens, the response so automatic you nearly let it slip out. But he doesn’t let you. He merely kisses your forehead, and his lips press into some sort of smile written in the language of heartbreak and tragedy. It’s a language you wish you didn’t know so well. “You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know.”

He grabs his black pullover and shrugs his injured shoulder. You’re left standing there, lips barely parted and still pulsing from the heat of his kiss despite how much you want to yell at him, scream for him to stay for just a moment more.

I want to say it back. I want to. I want you. I will.

I can’t.

Your legs are frozen to tile as he pauses at the door. Your head dips, eyes slipping closed as hot wet tears stream down your nose. He’s waiting. You know he is. He waits for a thing you cannot give him once again.

“I love you,” he whispers again, and this time the words bounce across walls and lockers, metal and ceramic before it reaches your hollow heart. The door swings open and shut.

You wonder how you can patch a broken heart with the very thing that broke it.

“Are you serious? Loki and I specifically said that we need surveillance on this guy.” It’s a bright 8 AM when you spit these words, collar twisted in your fist. “I know you’re stretched thin, but you gotta keep your word.” Your other hand grips a cup of steaming coffee you want to throw into the man’s face. Instead, you toss the dog collar onto his desk and hope the poison in your voice is enough.

“You said he was innocent.”

“And we also said we wanted surveillance on him. Look, you could’ve called either one of us. We’re a team for a reason. I could’ve went out and kept an eye on him. This was a stupid mistake, and I don’t want this to happen again.” You lean forward, fingers digging into the wood as you make sure the Captain is nearly shitting his pants. “You fucking know how important this case is to the both of us. Don’t fuck it up again.”

“What do you want?”

“You think we can do something different, tell us.”

“Detective, when’s the last time you slept?”

“Unimportant. We need to know where everyone is.” You slam your hand hard against the desk and the pens clatter before you straighten up, taking a long pull of your coffee.

“Point made.”

“Good. Communication lines—” You gesture between yourself and the Captain— “need to be open. I’m gonna work on finding the guy. Communication. You have my number.” Whipping around, you brush past your… the man who had confessed feelings he shouldn’t have and you sigh, leaning against the wall farther down the hall. You suck down the rest of your coffee, the warmth of it chilling your stomach.

He’s in a foul mood, you know, and you’re sure it’s about the dead dog you found last night. Or it could be the fact that you slept in a motel last night. TBD.

You hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep last night. You had sweated and tried sleeping naked, then got too cold and the covers hadn’t been enough. You tried to blame it on the shitty heater in the motel, but your body ached in a way you had only known to happen once before so you’d instead gone out for a late night stroll around the block to jog out the energy.

In the break room, you find it empty and you sigh, opening the fridge to check for food that hasn’t been claimed. Nothing. There’s a stack of icecream, but you’ll eat that later. Slamming the door shut, you catch your warped reflection in the metal. Your eyes are sunken and red, purple smearing your skin like someone punched you right in the sockets and your skin is dull and weepy. You gently probe at the swollen eyebags, tossing your coffee into the trash.

“Morning.” Spinning around, you spot him leaning against the door, hands shoved in his pockets. Concern is etched onto his face, but so is every hour he didn’t have as sleep.

“Good morning.”

Your eyes drift back to the trash can. You’d rather get tossed into a dumpster then face him right now. “I have… work to do.” You fucking hate this. No matter how much you try, you know that if your eyes meet his for even a split second, you won’t be able to control what happens next.

“Yeah, so do I.”

And you walk past him as if he means nothing. As if he does not stare holes into your back. As if you will not seek him out later because the two of you are moths and flames, gold to a thief, the moon and ocean, an inexplicable pull that defies the laws of every science.

“You’re only three hours into the tape.”

The man whips around in the office chair and you cross your arms, the corner of your mouth twitching. He turns around, pressing his face into his fingers as you walk into the dark room. You can see the tapes he’s watching, the ones you’ve obsessed over, and you blink, nose twitching at the sight of Alex Jones.

“You know this shit well,” he mutters. You place a hand on his injured shoulder, you don’t feel the foam padding but he stiffens and not from the pain. Cramps crawl up your arm and your fingers roll into a fist when you peel yourself off of him. “Fuck. I don’t… I don’t know if there’s something there that I’ve missed or—”

“You get any sleep last night?”

“Did you?”

Silence. He runs a hand over his face, leaning into his chair and you look down at him. All hard lines and soft edges, you want to touch him even though you know you’ll burn.

“Why’d you say it?” you ask softly. He doesn’t turn to look at you and you wrap yourself in your arms, squeezing hard enough as a reminder. “We agreed.”

“I know. I know, but— ”

“Detectives.” The two of you spring apart like you’re highschoolers caught fucking at prom and David digs a finger into his swollen eyes. He looks as fucking tired as you feel. “You’ve got a call.”

Sighing, he pauses the tape. “Right. Fuck, you… you don’t have to go.” You step back to give him room, and when he stands, you hate how much he towers over you. Hate how much you want to tell him he’s wrong. But instead, you nod.

“I’ll stay. You, go.”

Your eyes meet for just the briefest of seconds and he blinks hard. Running a hand over his mouth and chin, he nods and turns to go.

He’s muzzling himself. You hate it when he fucking does this, but now, you can’t do shit about it. Words that threaten to spill out of your mouth slam against your lips as you watch him leave, and you sit down where he did mere minutes ago, the warmth of him still lingering like a mist, a cloak.

You pretend you can’t think about him anymore. Love is not for men and women like you.

He goes to Value Mall every week, buys different sizes for kids -D x

Pays with cash, messes with mannequins. Gave her both our numbers. -D x

Thought I should let you know. -D x

I know. Thanks. -xx

Alright. I can go to a motel or whatever. -D x

No it’s okay. I wouldn’t mind if you were there -xx

David crawls into bed with you for the first time in more than twenty-four hours. His back presses against yours tentatively and you turn, the sheets twisting around your legs. Your arm wraps around his waist, eyes closing. His heart thuds underneath your ear, an echo that fits into the hollow of your ribs.

Peace lasts for two hours before you’re done pretending trying to sleep. For lunch, you grab a coffee from the cart near the hospital on the way to the station.

You don’t talk about what he said, pretend it never happened in some unspoken agreement, but you can read it in his eyes every time he thinks you’re not looking. You wonder if things were different, would he have told you still? Or would he have doomed himself to silence forever instead?

The answer to your question is ashes in your mouth.

tags: @woah-jess @jenlrose @mytinybaguette @arcaneloki

#fic: 1996 #prisoners #prisoners 2013 #detective loki #detective loki x reader #detective loki imagine #detective loki x you #detective loki x y/n #detective loki fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal imagine #jake gyllenhaal x you #jake gyllenhaal x yn #jake gyllenhaal x y/n #my writing

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the-devil-herself · 4 years

Text

Never Enough - Chapter 17

CHAPTER: 17

DESCRIPTION: Certain mates of Jotuns receive soulmate marks on their bodies. What happens when Loki’s mark is found on a girl with immense power? RATING: M

NOTES/WARNINGS: BIG TRIGGER WARNING -- mentions of infanticide and euthanasia, so please be careful before reading this chapter. Please let me know what you think!

TAGGED: @kneel-before-queen-loki @lokis-girl-in-mischief @tarithenurse @fangirls94 @hellofeysandarling @lokis-high-priestess @god-of-mischief-here-tada @marvelschriss

Everything was dark. I couldn’t move or breathe; I felt like floating. I was in a timeless void, and I couldn’t get out.

Until I heard shouting.

Suddenly, my eyes popped open. I had to shut them again as the light violently shone on me. Not being able to escape from the light so easily, I raised my hand to cover the harsh fluorescent bulb above me.

“Dana, you’re awake!” I heard Tony. His voice was strained with exhaustion and worry. I peeped an eye open very slowly to see the dark shadows under his eyes. “Thank God, kid.”

A hand gently grabbed my other arm, giving it a squeeze. Thor was smiling at me, his eyes bright with joy and relief, but there was something else in them. I could only faintly see the desperation beneath them.

“What happened?” I croaked.

Nat handed me a glass full of water, which I accepted gratefully. Steve recalled to me last night’s events with Lorelei. Apparently, she had done no real damage to me, fortunately missing all the big arteries. She had escaped, of course, but Loki was currently in pursuit.

“He left only after he knew you were okay,” Thor whispered to me. My heart felt lighter at that, but it didn’t drown out my worry over him. Why was he so adamant on killing this woman? Yes, she was evil, but there were plenty of evil people in this universe.

“Clint and Bruce are trying to track her down as well, but so far, nothing.” Nat refilled my glass, anticipating my needs expertly.

“And if they find her?” I asked.

Tony’s eyes were hard as he looked at a spot in the wall. “Then we destroy her.”

I spent the night under Tony and Thor’s watchful eyes. Nat and Steve would come in every now and then with food and water. However, the one person I really wanted here wasn’t around. My thoughts kept flipping to him and stressing over if he was okay or if he had found her.

I detailed hundreds of possibilities and scenarios of Loki finding Lorelei, that by the time he came back, I was so wound up with anxiety that I almost shot out of bed to hug him. Only Tony’s presence stopped that.

“What have you found?” Thor stood up to speak to Loki quietly, but the whole room was silent enough to where I could still hear them.

Loki shook his head. “Barely anything,” he hissed. “I do think I know where she’s headed, though.”

“Where?”

“She came to us,” Loki’s eyebrows were drawn together as he focused, “she’ll come to us again then. She needs something we have.”

Thor took a step forward. “And that is?”

“I should head to bed, kiddo,” Tony interrupted. He stretched in his chair before getting up and patting Thor on the back on his way out.

Loki’s eyes were drawn to me, and I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself. Thor noticed this subtle exchanging of looks and let himself outside. Loki slowly crossed the room to my bed and sat down on the chair Tony had vacated.

“I’m sorry I left you,” he whispered, his eyes turned downward in shame. “I just thought I might find her if I searched sooner.”

I shook my head. “It’s okay, I understand.” I put my hand over his without thinking, purely to calm him. His hand relaxed under my touch and brought his fingers through mine.

“She could’ve done much worse to you.” His hand suddenly bunched into a fist, and I could tell he was about to go into a blind rage.

I grabbed his hand again and placed it on my lap. “But she didn’t,” I pointed out.

He gave me a very weak smile before kissing the hand that held his. “I am immensely glad to see you okay, my little one.”

His face also looked taught and tired. I could tell he hadn’t slept either, nor did he plan to.

Dawn was coming through a bit a few hours later when Nat showed up with breakfast. Loki and I had separated ourselves, and he was seated across the room. She looked at him suspiciously but let it drop.

“You holding up alright?” she asked, a little smile showing on her face.

“So far.”

She handed me more toast, but I refused. “Dana, you need to eat more and gain your strength before we go kick the shit out of that witch,” she teased. I giggled at her joke, but I saw Loki stiffen immediately.

His hands clawed into his thighs as he tried to hold himself back. Something was up, and I needed to find out.

Once Nat left to go help Clint, I took the opportunity. “Why do you hate her so much?” I blurted.

Loki seemed startled at this outburst, but he swallowed and unclenched his hands. He came back to sit by me and tried to smile. “It’s nothing important,” he said quietly. Too quietly.

“Yes, it is,” I demanded. “Thor told me, okay? He told me you and her were engaged.”

Loki changed. His face went pale white, and it looked like a battle just went off in his head. “Aye, we were,” he muttered.

He didn’t say more only looking elsewhere for help. His eyes were scared and furious, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he tried to swallow his words.

“Loki, please tell me!”

He stood up, startling me. “It is of no concern,” he shouted, glaring at me.

I shrank back in my covers at his fury. I had never seen him so angry, not even when he sent the Destroyer.

He realized his affect on me and softened his eyes. Running his hand down his face to clear his head, he apologized. “I’m sorry, little one, it’s just…”

“Just what?” I encouraged. To no avail. He sat down again and remained silent.

I couldn’t stand it anymore, the secrets, any of it. So, I kept prodding. “Thor said she killed a noble.” Loki’s face grew dark. “Did you know the person?”

He turned away from me for a long time, contemplating what to say next. When he finally turned around, his cheeks were wet with tears, and I knew he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Aye, I did,” he whispered. I felt his hand reaching for mine and gave it without a word. “Lorelei and I were engaged, but she turned to darker magic.”

I had already known this part but listened intensely to him describe their early relationship. They both had felt like outsiders and seidr brought them together. Frigga had even treated her like a daughter.

It was only common sense for them to have been together intimately.

But suddenly, she changed.

“She read a book, in the hidden depths of the library where no one ventured to,” he explained. “I had been there some times myself, but she had found a book on dark magic. Frigga had forbidden me to read it, and I respected her enough to listen. But Lorelei, she fell to it.”

She had become mean and agitated at the tiniest of things. She snapped at Loki more than once a day on inconsequential matters, and he had tried to reason with her.

“Nothing helped. Soon she started harming people. She would break a leg or drive a woman crazy, things that were too evil to be just simple pranks.

“She tried to pull me into it, and a little bit of it connected with me then. Of course, more of it would help me, well doom me, later.”

He paused, rubbing his left hand with his right—a nervous tick he had since he was a boy. “She got pregnant,” he breathed. I almost shot out of my bed, my heart had kicked so wildly. I couldn’t believe this, in fact, I wouldn’t!

“At this point she was downright cruel, but she chose to keep the child saying that her child would be as powerful as she, and we would rule as a family. I don’t know what she meant by that, maybe taking the throne of Asgard.

“Well, the pregnancy had complications, and the baby, my beautiful daughter, was born early and with severe disabilities. The healers assured us she would be fine, though.”

His eyes welled up once again as he relayed this part. “I told Lorelei, I kept telling her I would care for her and our daughter no matter what. I would always have them wanting for nothing.”

He took a break, clearing his eyes of tears. I gently ran my fingers over his cheek. “What was her name?”

He smiled faintly. “Her name was Sigyn,” he laughed. “Legends told of her as my beloved, but in the wrong way. She was my beloved, my gorgeous daughter.”

“Lorelei was not happy, though,” his whole body shook with this. “She was outraged that a baby of hers would be born not as powerful as she. But when I left one night to grab her food and more blankets, she…”

He didn’t need to finish. His fists were clenching the side of my bed as tried to regain himself, but it could not be done. He had let himself be shown to me, and his body wouldn’t stop now that the words were out.

My heart broke for him. I wanted to ease his pain, wipe his tears, do SOMETHING. But I could do nothing. A part of himself was ripped from him.

“Frigga and Odin kept it between ourselves,” he sobbed. “We never told Thor or anyone else. We locked her away in the darkest corner on Asgard and kept her there for hundreds of years.”

I then understood his desire to hunt her down. She had taken away a precious piece of him for no reason at all. “So, your threat to her about dying alone, it’s because…”

“It’s because she had our baby die alone. Now she will come to feel that by my hand.”

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moonb-eam · 5 years

Note

Ok I have a fic question if you’re willing to answer: what did Eliott say to Manon? I wanna know soooo bad!! (What Manon mentions in ch3 of sk8er boi 😅😅)

ahhhhhh omg this is so cute!! 🧡🧡 thank you for asking!!

okay, so i love this question so much that instead of just telling you, i wrote a little scene about it??? i hope it satisfies your curiosity!! 👀

(takes place ~ two weeks after ch. 3)

“Can I ask you something?”

Manon looks up at him from where she’s cutting Daphné’s birthday cake into perfect, even slices. She smiles. “Sure.”

“What did, uh…” Lucas runs a hand over the back of his neck, focusing his gaze on where the F in Bonne Fête has been sliced in half. “Remember when you told me you thought there was something going on between me and Eliott? Because of something he said?”

Manon pokes her tongue into her cheek. “Yeah, I remember.”

She looks like she’s trying not to laugh, and Lucas would normally rather chew tinfoil than give her the satisfaction of being right, but it’s something he’s been wondering about for weeks, and he’s desperate. He drops his head to the counter. “Ugh. Just, what did he say?”

Manon presses her knife back into the cake, cutting another even slice. “I don’t know, Lucas. Maybe it was said to me in confidence. Do you want to break your boyfriend’s trust?”

“Manon.”

She outright laughs now, reaching her free hand over to ruffle Lucas’s hair. “I’m just kidding. I’ll tell you. Although, I should warn you it’s not going to be nearly as juicy as you’re thinking.”

Lucas turns his head to the side, freeing one eye to peer up at her.

“So,” she starts. voice low and warm, “this is months before you two started dating, but it was the sort of thing that just…made me pay attention, you know?”

Months before. The back of Lucas’s neck feels hot. “Okay.”

“It was—well, do you remember that week of classes you missed?”

Lucas does. It was a week at the end of May, when Lucas’s mom had a bad episode, and his dad had called him from Monte Carlo, asking is Lucas could check in on her because he was too busy. Lucas had already been having a stressful month, too preoccupied with his assignments, with the stress of trying to pay rent, with whatever the fuck was going with his heart whenever Eliott Demuary was in the room. He’d become so anxious that he was barely sleeping, and when he went to go see his mom, and saw how poorly she was doing, he went pretty well over the edge. So, he took a week off. He slept for an entire day and spent hours with his mom at the clinic, and got his homework assignments from Yann. It had been a rough time for him, a breaking point from building stress, but it had also been, as the school counsellor says, an important step in him confronting stressors in his life, and healing.

All he says is, “Yeah, I remember.”

“Eliott asked me about it.”

Lucas snaps his head up. “What?”

“Yeah. I ran into him that day when I was leaving school. He was going to the skatepark or whatever, I don’t know.”

Lucas smiles without realizing it, fond.

“I go over to say hi to him, and we’re chatting about classes and whatnot when out of the blue, he asks me, ‘Where’s Lucas?’” She laughs, her imitation of Eliott’s voice exaggeratedly deep and seductive. “I was a bit confused, so I didn’t say anything, and he kept going. He said, ‘He just hasn’t been around this week, and I was wondering if he’s okay.’ And I think that’s nice, so I say, ‘He’s okay, he’s just dealing with some family stuff.’ That’s when he gets kind of shy, you know? And he says, ‘Does he need anything? Can I bring him something?’”

Lucas blinks at her.

“And I’m still kind of confused, but,” she raises an eyebrow at Lucas, “I think I’m starting to get it, so I tell him that he’s sweet, but he doesn’t have to do anything, that we’re all helping you. Because I think you would have lost your shit if I sent Eliott to go check on you.”

Lucas is sure he would have had a coronary, if in the middle of all of that, Eliott Demaury had shown up at his doorstep with a can of soup, or something.

“That was probably a good call,” he tells her.

Manon grins. “I thought so too.” She picks up a stack of paper plates and serves out slices of cake, passing them to Lucas to set aside on the table. “But this is the real thing that made me think. After I tell him that, he seems happy, but before I leave, he says, ‘It seems like Lucas is always taking care of others, doesn’t it? I want to know that someone is taking care of him.’”

And Lucas. He freezes, holding onto a paper plate with a Princess and the Frog design on it, pink icing smeared onto his thumb. “He—” He pauses, swallows. “He said that?”

“Mhm.” Manon takes the plate from him and walks it to the table. “It was the way he said it, too, like he never believed anything in his life more, but he was also so nervous. It was like, just speaking your name, that made him shy. Lucas, from that alone…” She shrugs, rips open a box of plastic forks. “I knew he liked you. Or more than that, I knew he cared about you. At first I thought it was more than you cared about him, but then I saw the way you looked at him. And Emma and Yann started a bet on how long it would take you to bring him up in conversation.”

Lucas makes an undignified sound, a hand coming up to his chest. “They what?”

“You’re not subtle, Lucas. But really, neither is Eliott. You two are made for each other.” Manon turns to face him, holding two plates in her hands. “So, there you go. Now you know what he said.”

Lucas nods. His face is burning, and he’s biting down on the inside of his cheek. “Yeah. Thank you.”

Manon nods, and swans out of the room.

Lucas stays in the kitchen for a while alone, leaning back against the kitchen counter and staring at the wall across the room. He thinks about that week back in May, when everything had been too much for him, and all he wanted was for someone to hold him and say, Lucas, it’s going to be okay.

He hadn’t known that Eliott wanted to be that person the entire time.

I want to know that someone is taking care of him.

He pushes away from the counter, wheeling out of the kitchen and into the throng of people in the hall, some dancing to a remix of a Dolly Parton song, some drinking on the sofa, some standing by the bar, but where is he, where is—

Eliott.

He’s near the stairs, talking to Arthur and drinking a can of Cherry Coke, listening to a story intently, one that involves a lot of hand gestures from Arthur, and is resulting in Eliott laughing so hard his eyes crinkle into little half-moons.

Lucas marches up behind him, making a face at Arthur when they lock eyes, but not stopping until he’s close enough to touch Eliott, close enough to wrap his arms around him from behind, burying his face between Eliott’s shoulder blades.

Eliott startles, then melts back against Lucas, running a hand over his arms. “Hi,” Eliott says, and his voice sounds like the most comfortable bed Lucas has ever slept in.

“Hi,” Lucas mumbles into his back. He kisses him though his t-shirt. “Hi.” He repeats, and kisses him again.

Eliott laughs, craning his neck back. “What’s going on?” When Lucas still doesn’t move, his voice becomes tinged with concern. “Are you okay?”

I want to know that someone is taking care of him.

“M’fine,” Lucas says, smushed into Eliott’s back. “I love you.”

Neither of them have said it yet, both tiptoeing across a tightrope wire of do you? i do for weeks. Or at least, Lucas has. He hopes Eliott has too, but even if he doesn’t. Lucas just wants him to know.

“Oh.” Eliott whispers, stilling.

Lucas peaks over his back and sees that Arthur has subtly ditched them for the dance floor, where he’s now grinding back against Yann to Jolene.

Then Eliott is turning in the circle of his arms, and Lucas’s vision is filled with nothing but Eliott: Eliott’s broad shoulders, his narrow waist, his green t-shirt, soft under Lucas’s hands, his beaming smile, his wide, grey eyes.

“Lucas,” Eliott says, and he’s leaning down, pulling Lucas into a searing kiss that makes Lucas’s head spin, makes his knees feel like the melted icing of Daphné’s cake. “Lucas,” Eliott repeats, pulling back. “I love you too, fuck, I love you. Oh my god.” They kiss again, but Eliott is babbling into it, and their teeth clack together. “Lucas, oh my god, I’ve wanted to say that for so long, but I wasn’t sure you did too, and I didn’t want to—”

“I know.” Lucas interrupts him, smiling so wide his face hurts. “I was scared to tell you too, but I...I love you. So much.”

Eliott laughs, pressing their foreheads together. “God. Why are we like this?”

“You know, Manon says we’re made for each other.”

“Does she?”

Lucas nods, tilting his head back so he can see Eliott’s eyes. “She told me something else, too.”

And it’s only a second, but he can see a tightening around Eliott’s eyes, like he’s nervous all over again. “What did she tell you?”

“Something you said, a while ago. It’s okay, I just…” Lucas holds Eliott’s face in his hands, stands on his tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

Eliott exhales against him. “For what?”

“For taking care of me.”

#got a bit carried away asdfjk #but i love that you asked!!!#thank you so much! 💖💖💖#asks #anon #fic tag #elu fic #could possibly file under #prompts #i realize the timeline is completely wrong for daphy’s canon birthday 👀#but we’ll just ignore that asdfjjs

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vfdbaudelairefile13 · 4 years

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Authors notes: There are brief descriptions of violence against a minor and brief discussion of Olaf's sick intentions with Violet. Read with caution. It isn't the main focus of the chapter but it is mentioned here and there. So read with caution.

Also, sorry if this chapter is super long I just kept adding a lot of shit and I honestly like how it turned out.

Notes:

First off I just want to apologize for how long this chapter took. Time has gotten away from me but I can promise that part three will be a day to day posting schedule like part one. Carnivorous Carnival might still have a couple days in between each chapter cause I am in the process of finding a new second job, still dealing with two jobs, and even moving. So updates won't take this long but they won't be day to day. I am hoping for the first chapter of CC to be posted in three days. Maybe even Thursday. I do appreciate the support this fic has gotten and I can't wait to wow y'all with part three.

That being said, we are at the last chapter of Hostile Hospital and I am feeling very emotional about that mere prospect. This just means we are close to the end of part two and near the start of part three. during the time in between parts two and three I will be posting a number of random one shots cause I don't plan to post until I have finished writing Grim Grotto to it's completion because Slippery Slope might be as long as Hostile Hospital has been.

So thank you all again for the support. Hope you enjoy the ending of HH.

-Sue

__________________________________________________

Chapter Fifty-Seven:

The One With An Unhinged Madman and a Very Flawed, Daring Escape

Olaf smiled happily down at the film that was now in his hands. The Snicket File? He thought as his smile grew bigger. All he could think about was who he expected to be in this film. He had believed it would’ve been the love of his life, Kit Snicket. He glanced from the film towards Esme. Esme was looking at the young orphan boy with a cold, murderous expression. He stole a glance towards the unconscious girl that laid limp and lifeless on the cutting table. Then he slowly turned his gaze to the young boy and hidden toddler who stood before him. He smiled viciously at them as he secured the film into his pocket.

The villain’s smile widened when Esme had helped him reveal the orphans’ true identity to the crowd. He watched a terrified Klaus slowly begin to panic. The villain reveled in his young adversary’s fear. He glanced around. Bored with his plot. He was curious to know what was on the Snicket file and to tell the truth, he was eager to see Kit’s face again. Olaf glanced at Esme while Klaus and Sunny were too distracted by the audience to notice. Olaf was signaling for Esme to take care of the orphans while he dipped out momentarily to investigate the file. Esme gave a slow nod as she focused on causing the orphans more turmoil. Olaf looked around the stage for a way to escape undetected. But he didn’t have to think for too long because the blind old man who was in charge of the Library of Records had entered the room accusing the children of theft.

Olaf took this golden opportunity to leave the operating theater of Heimlich Hospital as he walked excitedly down the halls towards the Library of Records. All the while, he had taken the film out of his pocket and was staring at it with heavy eyes the entire duration of his walk. As he walked further and further away from the operating theater, he could faintly hear the desperate voice of Klaus Baudelaire asking where he had gone, he smirked with triumph as he rounded a corner finding the door to the library. He stepped inside the Library of Records smiling at the damage that his girlfriend had done when she was in pursuit of those awful orphans. He quickly found the area of the room where the projectors had been placed.

As he began to play the film, his face turned from happy to one of pure confusion. As he stared speechless at a ghost. Olaf was visibly upset. When he was told about the Snicket file, he hadn’t expected to see a Snicket brother on film. He grabbed the film’s case scanning it for a date. Of course, in good VFD fashion, there was no date of production, just the broad name. He slammed the case down in pure annoyance.

His eyes widened as he stared emotionless at Jacques Snicket. “But, before I do, I have an important update,” Jacques explained but Olaf couldn’t help but be merely distracted on who he could see. Olaf knew for a fact that he had murdered Jacques Snicket. He cocked his head to the side as he stared at Jacques, a volatile mix of emotions causing him to groan in annoyance as the volunteer spoke. Olaf had expected to see Kit Snicket, not her pesky, meddlesome twin brother who he had recently slain. He leaned his chin in his hand, feigning a yawn. Trying his best to mask his complete and utter discomfort for this situation. He scoffed aloud as he rolled his eyes, confused as to what he was feeling exactly.

It couldn’t be guilt. I’ve sunk too low to ever feel guilt and have empathy for another soul. He had thought with another quick eye roll. He had half a mind to turn off the film.

What information could Jacques Snicket possibly have that could be useful to me?

But as Olaf reached for the switch to turn it off. Jacques Snicket said it. Jacques said the haunting secret that the three orphans had learned moments before Esme Squalor burst into the library and successfully kidnapped Violet.

The vile man’s demeanor was calm, like the air that filled the Library of Records. But his cold demeanor was also very chilling. Anyone who knew Olaf well would take one look at him and accuse the man who sat in the Library of Records to be an imposter. He chuckled nervously, but in a low whisper as if he were afraid of others hearing him. For a brief moment, Olaf simply stared blankly towards the film. Jacques Snicket spoke on but Olaf paid him no attention. As if Jacques’ initial statement had frozen him in time. Jacques’ secret replayed in Olaf’s head in a continuous loop not allowing him a brief moment of peace. Olaf shook his head violently, but other than that his motions were bare, his demeanor was still calm.

After another few moments like that, Olaf stopped the film, rewound it to the very beginning, and turned it back on. Again, he listened to Jacques’ revelation about the recent fires. This time when he heard Jacques' theory, his heart stopped. A chill was sent over him.

It can’t be. He thought to himself desperately. Quickly succumbing to anxiety and paranoia that was now creeping in on him, he glanced around the empty library. He stood up from his seat to get a better look around. He wasn’t sure why but he could feel his heart beating in his chest as he surveyed the area for his older enemies.

Olaf wouldn’t admit to anyone that he was afraid, even though he was. He knew that if the kids knew that there was a survivor; and he had a strong feeling that the children did, in fact, know what was on the film seeing that Klaus was hesitant to hand it over to Esme, only handing it over because he thought it would be a good bargaining chip for Violet’s life. But if the kids knew there was a survivor and they somehow got to the survivor first, before Olaf could, he knew that that would only mean terrible things for him. Who knows what Beatrice, Bertrand, and Lemony would do to him if they ever found out just what he had done to their children and even some of the vile things he had planned especially when it came to the eldest orphan. His breathing was slowly going back to normal as he shook his head again.

He scoffed as he turned off the film again. He waited for it to rewind as he kept shaking his head defiantly. “What does Jacques Snicket know? Nothing. That’s what.” he tried to convince himself. “He was always a know-it-all with no way to back anything up.” But no matter what he said aloud to himself, nothing was convincing him that he was safe from the parents’ wrath.

He ran one of his hands nervously through his disgusting, grey hair. “No. No. Lemony is dead.” he said shakily. But then he remembered how a struggling violet was desperately crying out for her father when he was using the anesthetic to subdue her. “Remember...you...you killed him. You set his apartment building ablaze!” the vile man began to nervously laugh at this statement. He was hoping for his laugh to come out shrill and villainous, as it usually does, but it came out nervous and unenthusiastic. “Killing him...and whoever else was unfortunate enough to die,”

His eyes widened when he remembered the young teen girl that was strapped to a gurney in the middle of the operating theater. How did she survive? How did she escape the fire? That question now haunted him more than it had when he had first laid eyes on her at Prufrock. When he immediately recognized her as a miniature Beatrice with Lemony’s blue eyes. Olaf remembers when he had set the fire it was in the early hours of the morning or late hours of the evening (depending on how you look at), surely Violet would have been sleeping or inside her home when he started the fire.

So if an untrained fourteen-year-old girl could escape the fire I set….who’s to say, Lemony Snicket, a man who has had a lifetime of training in a cult, couldn’t escape as well? He thought to himself. He rubbed the side of his face anxiously.

“Get a grip, Olaf.” He told himself as he stopped the film. “She only escaped because that brat is lucky,” he smirked as he remembers her lifeless, limp body laying on a gurney in the operating theater. “And her luck is soon going to run out.”

He took a small breath. “Besides, there’s no way he survived...he would’ve shown his face by now.” The vile man reasoned, but to be honest, he wasn’t too sure. Olaf did not think it made sense for Lemony to risk his life for two children that weren't biologically his but not even try to rescue his own child. He also highly doubted Bertrand and Beatrice wouldn’t have shown their faces in an effort to save their kids. He began to nervously laugh as he shook his head. “Maybe...I misheard Jacques. He always played that stupid hearing game with Lemony…” Olaf stated, still trying to find some logical way to debunk what he heard Jacques Snicket say.

As he rewound the film once more, Olaf took a deep breath and played it again. Olaf’s eyes fixated on Jacques as he listened attentively as Jacques explained that Lemony was either dead or on the lam. Olaf’s eyes widened as he shook his head defiantly. “No. Lemony Snicket is dead,” he told himself. He hoped that if he said it out loud enough times then it would stay true. He desperately wanted that statement to stay true. He wanted Lemony Snicket to be dead.

Olaf glared slightly at the vision of Jacques Snicket. Grimacing, groaning, and growling as the ‘noble’ man spoke. It was like Jacques Snicket had come back from the dead to deliver Olaf some bad news. Jacques was always the bearer of bad news when Olaf was still working alongside the Snickets. He grabbed the file’s case once more and threw it to the ground when he couldn’t find a date. Even with the film’s metallic case cling ing on the ground as it bounced from being thrown, Olaf could still hear every word Jacques was saying loud and clear.

“It seems there may have been a survivor of a recent fire,” Jacques said again. Olaf grumbled as he kicked the air in front of his feet. Even while sitting he managed to stomp both feet as if he were a child throwing a temper tantrum and not simply a very highly unstable grown man going through his seventh midlife crisis in the last several months. As his hand ran through his hair again, he took a firm grip, slightly pulling in anger and desperation.

“Of course…” he cried, mockingly. “Of fucking course!”

His breathing became sharp and quick but not from fear as it had only a few minutes ago. Now his breathing was irregular because of his anger. He felt a tear or two form in his eyes as he thought about how the people who have wronged him could still be alive.

“No,” he cried out. His voice was somewhat desperate but mainly defeated. “No! This isn’t fair!” He screeched as he rewound the film again, not caring to turn it off. The film rewound although this rewind had slightly distorted the video. But Olaf didn’t pay it any attention. “ Nothing ever goes my way!” He barked, his voice still dripped desperation even if he was trying his best to mask it. He thought of each and every scheme that had failed since his pursuit of Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire, this revelation caused him to growl. It was bad enough that the kids were surviving him but now their hypocritical parents?

“I can’t believe it,” Olaf whined. “ This changes everything!” The vicious man grabbed at his hair again, pulling at it aggressively as he growled inhumanely. His mind flashed to the unconscious girl on the cutting table, the bespectacled boy who was desperately trying to rescue her, and the simpering infant with the sharp teeth.

“ They’re supposed to be orphans!” He growled, shaking with each word.

As he yelled that last sentence, he shut his mouth abruptly. His expressionless face slowly growing into a Grinch-like grin as his eyes shone with an idea. He began to laugh lightly as if he had just remembered a joke that Esme or one of his troupe members had told him.

Olaf’s world was currently spiraling as his happiness about getting his revenge against Lemony Snicket may not have actually happened or that his second-hand revenge against Bertrand Markson and Beatrice Baudelaire didn’t occur either and this revelation sent him in a frenzy. The mere idea of a survivor had his entire soul heated up.

His face grew dark as he thought, once more, about their three plucky children. A cruel, vicious smile appeared on the man’s face. “ It would be fun to deal with the survivor and their precious children.” He said aloud, his light laughter turned into full-grown villainous howling as his dark mind began to imagine cruel scenarios for the survivor and their children. A cruel smile appeared on his face as he began to fantasize about how he would ‘take care’ of these orphans in front of their parents.

He thought first about little Sunny, and how he would rip the infant limb from limb, listening to her screams and cries of agony and her parents and siblings horrified pleads. He then thought about Klaus and how he would cut the bookworm in such a way where the young boy slowly bled out agonizingly slow, somehow surviving through to the very end of Olaf’s madness, only to be killed the last second when Olaf finally decides to put him out of his misery with a quick slit of his throat. The sick man reveled in the screams that the survivor and Klaus would be making. He already knew how fun it was to carve up the middle orphan as if he were a pumpkin in October and he was very eager to do it some more. But then finally, he thought about Violet, the girl who laid unconscious and restrained on the cutting table. A sick smile laced with the cruelest of intentions appeared on his face as he began to imagine all of the dark and twisted things he had planned for little Miss Snicket. The mere prospect of even having an audience to be forced to watch as he breaks their little girl in the cruelest way imaginable made Olaf smile wickedly.

He could finally cause the survivor more pain than they had caused him and he would use their own children to do so. Maybe he can twist the cruel reality of a survivor of a recent fire in his favor. It would only take postponing murdering the brats until he found out who was the survivor and then brutally torturing their children to death in front of them. Olaf shrugged his shoulders. It wasn’t what he had initially planned but this gave him more time to torment the children and that always made him feel a little happier.

Finally, Olaf stood turning to leave. He felt as though he had been away from the operating theater for too long and he was beginning to worry that the others couldn’t handle the Baudelaires and an unconscious Snicket girl. He would be so fucking pissed if Esme and the others lost his little pet. But as he turned his back to Jacques Snicket for the last time, film Jacques said it once more. “There may be a survivor of a recent fire.”

Olaf took one deep breath as he stood motionless for a second. Jacques’ words hitting Olaf slowly as if Jacques were standing right in front of him, stabbing him cruelly. “I know!” Olaf hissed, his hands slowly tightening to white-knuckled fists. He let out a vicious growl that caused his whole body to shake aggressively.

Olaf turned towards the projector rapidly as he shoved the projector that played the film down onto the table. In a fit of blind rage, Olaf gripped the projector and began to beat it repeatedly against the table. “ Baudelaire!” he hissed as he continued to beat the projector against the table. “ Markson!” He growled again as he turned towards the chair that he had sat in and kicked it with all his might. As the psychotic man hissed, “ Snicket!” the chair flew across the room only stopping when it collided with one of the filing cabinets that had survived Esme’s rampage. He turned back towards the projector continuing to slam it against the table, eventually shoving it down and then pounding on the table with his fists. “ NOOOOOOO!” He bellowed in the empty library. His voice echoing and bouncing off the walls

He gripped onto the projector one last time and rapidly smacked it against the table once more and carefully watched with curiosity when a small flame had illuminated. Olaf instinctively tried to swat it out but then as his eyes shone bright with an idea, his face went dark with no emotion besides cold ruthlessness.

He slowly bent down towards the flame, his face darkening as his sick thoughts danced around his head laced with cruel intentions. He softly blew at the flame, nurturing it, allowing it to grow into a full-fledged fire. As he gazed at the intoxicating orange flames, reveling in the intense high he was feeling, he merely shrugged his shoulders.

What’s one more fire?

________________________________________________________________

Klaus gazed up at the crowd nervously as he and Sunny jumped when they heard a familiar laugh, far above them. The two younger orphans glanced at one another nervously and then focused their gazes towards the intercom speaker that was above them. The siblings had heard this laughter when Olaf had first captured the Quagmire triplets and Sunny, and when Esme had successfully pushed Klaus and Violet down the elevator shaft at 667 Dark Avenue, and when he had trapped the two older siblings in a locked Deluxe Cell or trapped Sunny and the Quagmires in a small cage at the bottom of an elevator shaft, a statue of a red herring, and a fountain. It was the triumphant laughter of someone who has cooked up a fiendish plot and succeeded, although it always sounded like the laughter of someone who has just told an excellent joke. Because he was laughing over the scratchy intercom, Olaf sounded as if he had a piece of aluminum foil over his mouth, but the laughter was still loud enough to help wear off the anesthesia only slightly, and Violet murmured something and tried to move her restrained arms.

“Oops,” Olaf said, interrupting his laughter when he noticed the intercom was on. “Attention!” Olaf cried as Klaus cried out a desperate ‘no’ in response. “This is Doctor Mattathias Medical-School with some very important news. A terrible fire has broken out in Heimlich Hospital.”

The crowd around the children gasped as they all stood up from their seats. Even the troupe and Esme glanced at one another nervously. “The fire was set in the Library of Records by that Baudelaire murderer and his baby accomplice!”

“ Toddler!” Sunny corrected as the crowd began to glare at her and her brother.

“Sunny, not the time,” Klaus whispered as he continued to gaze up at the intercom, silently pleading for Olaf to stop his treachery. He shook his head as Olaf spoke and continued to mouth the word ‘no’.

“The fire has spread through a number of wards. The orphans are still at large, so do everything you can to find them, arrest them, and bring them to me. ” he hissed into the intercom.

“No,” Sunny whimpered as the crowd around the children glared intensely.

“Oh, and you might want to evacuate the building...or move the patients...or something,” Olaf said nonchalantly. “Thank you. That is all.”

Their enemy’s voice disappeared in a matter of seconds. Klaus looked around desperately. “We...we...we couldn’t have started the fire! We’ve been in this operating theater the whole time!” he reasoned.

“Get them!” One nurse cried. “Somebody tell Mattathias we’ve captured the children!” she turned to Klaus and Sunny. “You three brats are in big trouble. You’re murderers, arsonists, kidnappers, and now spurious doctors.”

“Don’t forget thieves!” Hal cried, holding up the fake key ring.

“They get that from their mother!” Esme cried angrily, glaring daggers at Klaus.

“That’s…” Klaus began but then he looked towards his sisters. “Not...not all of that is true...I only disguised myself...to save…” But as he looked around, he feared that no one was believing him. He looked at the spurious keyring in Hals’ hands that he and his sisters had used to sneak into the Library of Records. He looked at his ripped medical coat, which he had used to disguise himself as a doctor and he looked at the rusty blade in his own hands, which he had just been holding over his unconscious older sister. Klaus remembered when he and Sunny lived with Uncle Monty, and the two siblings, with some help from a disguised Lemony Snicket, brought several objects to Mr. Poe as evidence to Olaf’s treacherous plot. Because of the small objects, Olaf was placed under arrest, and now Klaus was afraid that the same would happen to him and his sisters.

“Surround them!” The Hook-Handed Man cried, pointing at the children with a curved glove. “But be careful. The bookworm still has the knife!”

Olaf’s associates spread out in a circle and slowly began walking towards the youngsters at all angles. Sunny whimpered in fright and ran behind Klaus’ legs as Klaus was trying to guard both his sisters. Klaus quickly picked Sunny up and put her on the gurney.

“Capture those orphans!” a doctor cried.

The two white-faced women smiled wickedly at Klaus and Sunny. “We’ll perform surgery on all three of you!” one of the women shouted causing Esme to facepalm.

Hal looked to them in disbelief. “What?” he asked. “No, the children will go to prison, of course.”

“Well, technically they’ll be in juvenile detention until they come of age,” the henchperson of indeterminate gender explained.

“Ridiculous!” the bald man cried. “They should be tried as adults.”

“Murderers should get the chair,” one white-faced woman argued.

“We’re talking about children,” Hal complained.

“Very small chairs, then,” the other white-faced woman commented as the troupe took another step towards the children.

“We can discuss the details after we arrest them,” a volunteer fighting disease cried.

“Yeah! Stop arguing and arrest them!” another cried.

“That’s what we’re doing, you fool!” Esme cried impatiently, but when she turned her head towards the two Baudelaire orphans and the drowsy Snicket girl they saw her wink. “We’re going to capture only one of you,” she said, in a quiet voice so the audience couldn’t hear her. She had her eyes focused on Klaus, who backed into Violet’s gurney causing the Snicket girl to shriek slightly.

Sunny turned towards Violet. “Shhhh, it’s okay,” she whimpered to the drowsy Violet as she pets her hair softly.

Esme smiled as she glanced down at her stiletto shoes. “This in footwear isn’t just useful for making me look glamorous and feminine,” she explained as she took one of her heels off and pointed it right at the children. “These stilettos are perfect for slitting children’s throats.” she hissed under her breath, taking a small step closer to Klaus, who adjusted the large, rusty knife in his hands. “The two bratty girl orphans will be killed while trying to escape from justice, leaving the one bratty, little Baudelaire boy to give us the fortune.”

“You’ll never get your hands on our inheritance,” Klaus cried. “Or your shoes at my sisters’ throats.”

Esme merely shrugged. “We’ll see,” she cried, as she swung her shoe at Klaus as if it were a sword. Klaus ducked quickly and felt the whoosh! Of the air as the blade swept over him. He glanced at Esme confused. She had just explained her intention to kill his sisters not him, so why was she swinging her shoes at him. It didn’t take Klaus long to realize what Esme was doing as he jumped back up onto his feet in hopes of protecting Violet and Sunny.

“ She’s trying to kill us!” Klaus cried desperately. “Can’t you see? These are the real murderers!”

“No one will ever believe you,” Esme said in a sinister whisper and swung her shoe at Sunny, who moved away just in time.

“I don’t believe you!” Hal cried. “My eyesight may not be what it used to be, but I could see that phony medical coat on the ground.”

“I don’t believe you either!” a nurse cried. “I can see that rusty knife!”

Esme swung her shoe towards the drowsy Violet this time, Klaus maneuvering Violet’s gurney out of the way in the nick of time. “Why don’t you surrender?” Esme hissed. “We’ve finally trapped you, just as you trapped Olaf all those other times.”

“When did we ever…” Klaus cried as he jumped back away from Esme’s attack.

“Now you know what it feels like to be a villain!” the bald man yelled. “Move closer, everyone! Mattathias told me whoever grabs them first gets to choose where to go for dinner tonight!”

Klaus looked at the group of villains in disbelief. He scanned towards the crowd looking for any friendly or helpful face. He frowned when he realized that no one was going to help them or stick up for the children. Esme could literally slit one of their throats and no one in this half-emptied crowd would bat an eyelash.

“Is that so?” the Hook-Handed Man asked. “Well I’m in the mood for pizza.” he swung a rubber-gloved hook at Klaus, who fell back against the gurney, rolling himself and his sister out of the evil man’s reach even if it was only a few inches.

“I feel more like Chinese food,” one of the white-faced women said. “Let’s go to that place where we celebrated the Quagmire and Baudelaire kidnapping.”

“I want to go to Cafe Salmonella,” Esme snarled.

Klaus pushed against the gurney again, wheeling it in the other direction as the circle of associates closed in on him and his sisters. He held the rusty knife up for protection as he listened to the whimpering of his younger sister and watched the restrained struggles of his elder sister. Klaus did not think he could use a weapon, even on people as wicked as these. Even if that dark thought had crossed his mind more than ten times in the last five minutes. He frowned when he realized that he was thinking just like Count Olaf. He shook his head slightly, he refused to be anything like Olaf. He knew if Count Olaf would have been trapped, he would not have hesitated to swing the rusty blade at the people who were surrounding him, but despite what the bald man had said, Klaus did not feel like a villain or rather, he didn’t want to feel like a villain. He didn’t want to feel a thing like Olaf. He refused to be the thing he hated the most. What Klaus did feel like though, was someone who needed to escape.

“Klaus...what do we do?” Sunny asked in a terrified whisper as the troupe and Esme took another step towards the kids.

“I...I don’t know, Sunny…” he admitted as he backed into his sister’s gurney again, he glanced down at Violet and then at Sunny, giving his younger sister a small smile, because he knew just how the three siblings were going to escape. “But a great mind once told me... there’s always something, ” he said as he smiled down at the drowsy Violet, who merely looked up at him with a face full of fear, disorientation, and confusion.

“Get back!” Klaus cried as he focused on the villains. “This knife is very sharp!”

“You can’t kill all of us,” the Hook-Handed Man replied. “In fact, I doubt you have the courage to kill anyone.”

“It doesn’t take courage to kill someone,” Klaus replied. “It takes a severe lack of moral stamina.”

“That is a wonderful way to describe your parents,” Esme commented, smirking.

“Wait...what…?”

“But I’m afraid, your fancy words won’t save you now, you twerp.” Esme snarled mockingly.

“That’s true,” Klaus admitted. “What will save me now is a bed on wheels used to transport hospital patients,”

Without another word, Klaus tossed the rusty knife to the floor, startling Olaf’s associates into stepping back. Esme even dropped her stiletto shoe in shock. The circle of people with a severe lack of moral stamina was spread out a little more, just for a moment, but a moment was all the Baudelaires needed. Klaus gripped Violet’s gurney tightly and began to roll his sisters off the stage. Before he had a chance to jump on the gurney himself, he felt something sharp prying at his skin.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Esme hissed as she gripped Klaus’ arm tightly. Digging her stiletto nails into his skin as roughly as he could. The young boy cried out as the vile woman smirked. Klaus desperately tried to push the gurney that held his sisters away but Esme kept him in place.

“Please…” Klaus pleaded, forgetting that Esme was like Olaf and she had absolutely no humanity left within her.

“ Please…” Esme mocked, beginning to chuckle. “ You three aren’t going anywhere!” she hissed into Klaus’ ear as he continued to struggle to get the vile woman to let him go. Olaf’s troupe just stood stupidly around unsure of what to do. While more of the crowd had decided that exiting a burning hospital was a better idea then capturing three falsely-accused orphans. Although some of the crowd did stay to help capture the kids. “Olaf and I have plans for each of you…” Esme snarled as she glanced towards a terrified Sunny who sat at the foot of Violet’s gurney. “Ain’t that right, babylaire?”

Sunny looked to the confused and struggling Violet to the terrified and struggling Klaus and then at the smirking bitch who held them in place. Sunny grimaced and shook her head, a faint attempt to get Olaf’s and Esme’s voices out of her head as she began to remember the cruel, vicious details of the villain’s plot to murder her and her siblings. Sunny began to shake where she sat as Esme gripped Klaus’ arm tighter. Klaus grimaced and groaned in pain as he glanced towards Sunny with pleading eyes. Sunny felt a knot in her stomach, knowing the last time that she had used her teeth to help someone it had ended badly for her. She remembered the muzzle, the beating, the drugging. Even the time she bit Olaf to get him to release Klaus which resulted in her own kidnapping. Fear was paralyzing her to her core. But then Sunny remembered what Olaf told her about what he had done to Klaus and she took another look at Violet, who was bruised and tied, and those factors alone shattered Sunny’s fear and replaced it with pure hatred.

“ Let’s go, brats. Maybe if you’re lucky, we’ll wait until the girl wakes up to dispose of the brats we don’t need,” Esme hissed in Klaus’ ear, loud enough for Sunny to hear. Sunny glared at the woman before shakily standing up on the gurney and running towards the vile woman with each wobbly step, she caused the gurney that held her and her older sister to shake.

Violet shook her head from side to side, faster than before but still, her movements were halted by the anesthetic. “The...earth’s...ending!” Violet shouted.

Sunny reached her destination as she bit Esme’s wrist as hard as she could causing the woman to let go of her brother and scream in pain.

“ You vile beast!” Esme hissed. “ The baby bit me!”

Sunny quickly sat down as Esme gripped her own arm. Klaus took this opportunity to turn towards the villainess, giving her a rough shove which caused her to plummet to the ground, effectively breaking the stiletto shoes that she was still wearing. Esme crashed into the ground with a growl as she reached for Klaus’ pant leg. But it was too late, she gripped onto the air because the children were already running out of the operating theater.

A cry rose from the remaining audience as the Baudelaires sped past Olaf’s associates. Esme screamed a high pitched shriek causing several people to cringe and cover their ears. “ AFTER THEM YOU IMBECILES!” she screeched to the troupe who then realized what had just happened and began running after the children in hot pursuit.

“They won't get away from me!” Hal cried as he gripped the side of Violet’s gurney.

“Hal... please.” Klaus whimpered as the gurney slowed to a halt.

“You destroyed my library!” Hal cried defensively.

Both Klaus and Sunny glanced behind them and then Sunny glanced back at the old man. Butterflies fluttered in the youngest Baudelaire’s stomach as Hal glared at her from behind his tiny glasses. Unlike Olaf’s associates, Hal was not an evil person, well as far as they know. My research says otherwise. He merely was someone who loved the Library of Records and was trying to capture the people he believed had set it on fire, and it pained Sunny to see that he thought she was an evil criminal, instead of an unlucky toddler. But she knew she did not have time to explain to Hal what had really happened. She scarcely had time to say a single word, and yet that is precisely what the youngest Baudelaire orphan did.

“Sorry,” Sunny said to Hal and gave him a big smile. Then she opened her mouth a little wider and bit Hal’s hand as gently as she could so that he would let go of the gurney without getting hurt. Which is the exact opposite thing she did to Esme.

“Ow!” Hal whined. “The baby bit me!”

“ Join the club!” Esme screamed as she began to stand up. Klaus rolled his sisters out of the door, he stopped pushing as Violet shook her head left and right trying to move the hair out of her eyes. Sunny looked at her brother with confusion but then understood what he was doing when he grabbed a mop and successfully barricaded the door to the operating theater. Klaus gripped onto his sister’s gurney once more as Olaf’s troupe reached the door and were trying to use their combined weight and strength to break Klaus’ barricade. Klaus didn’t stick around long enough to find out just how handy this idea was because he began racing down the hallway.

“Oh no no no,” Klaus cried as he took a quick glance behind him. He tried to run faster than before, he glanced down at Violet who was shaking her head still. She squinted up at him, her face was unreadable. Klaus could see that his sister’s eyes weren’t focusing. Sunny leaned closer to Violet to brush her sister’s hair from her face gently.

Klaus was running fast enough to when he reached the first corner, he skids around it rapidly, nearly losing his footing. He glanced towards the direction that he had just come from and he could see Olaf’s troupe running and chasing him.

“Don’t let them get away!” The hook-handed man yelled. “Tackle them!”

“This is like PE class all over again!” The Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender whined.

“Tell me about it!” Klaus called back to them, remembering Olaf’s cruel scheme back at Prufrock.

“Stop! Murderers!” a doctor behind the troupe called out.

“Weeeeeeeeeee,” Violet cried as she jerked her wrists up trying to clap in excitement. Violet’s wrists made a harsh, loud impact as her restraints caught her limp arms. Her eyes rounder her sockets as she looked at Klaus confused. “Where….what….am I….?” she asked, her voice ringing of utter confusion.

Klaus and Sunny glanced at one another worriedly. “Sunny, start biting through her restraints,”

Sunny merely nodded as she began to chew through the leather belt that was around her sister’s wrists and ankles.

“Attention!” announced Olaf’s voice.

“ Oh, would you just shut the fuck up! ” Klaus yelled towards the intercom as loudly as he could, utterly frustrated with Olaf’s bullshit.

“This is Mattathias, the Head of Human Resources! The murderous arsonist orphans are escaping on a gurney! Capture them at once! Also, the fire is spreading throughout the hospital! You might want to evacuate!”

“Hurry!” Sunny cried. As Sunny broke through one of Violet’s restraints, the two Baudelaires watched happily as Violet slowly lifted up her wrist, but their happiness soon turned into horror when they realized she was unable to hold it up for too long and the two younger siblings watched as their older sister’s wrist fell limp on the side of the gurney, dangling lifelessly.

“I’m going as fast as I can!” Klaus cried, trying to increase his speed. Klaus steered the gurney and ran as fast as his legs could carry him while Sunny held on for dear life as she worked on freeing her older sister. “ Violet, wake up, please! ” he cried, his voice thick with tears of desperation. “ I can’t do this…”

“I’m...try...ing….” Violet muttered, squinting around her. The anesthesia made everything seem faint and foggy, and it was almost impossible for her to speak, let alone move.

“ Try harder, please.” Klaus pleased. “You can help push.”

Sunny just glanced at him with bewilderment. “She can’t push,” Sunny told her brother, Klaus merely rolled his eyes and ignored Sunny.

“Violet…” Klaus called out as he continued to push the gurney. Violet’s eyes flickered open and closed. “The hospital’s on fire…and I don’t know what to do!” he cried in a panicky voice.

Violet only smiled a goofy smile up at him. “Y-you...came...back...for...for me?” her own voice was drowsy from the anesthetic but she was choking on her own tears.

Klaus and Sunny looked at one another and then at her. “Why wouldn’t we?” Klaus asked.

“Sister!” Sunny yelled.

Violet, still a bit woozy from the anesthetic, slowly glanced around as Sunny freed her other wrist, she put her gentle, limp hand on Sunny’s head, smiling at her. Tears falling from her eyes. “...you...you both...came back,” she said happily, her demeanor immediately changing to sadness. “B-b-but...but...O-Olaf...s-s-said you...left…” she cried, trying to use her limp hand to wipe away her tears, but every attempt was slow and never truly wiped away the entire tear. Sunny smiled at her big sister and leaned closer to wipe Violet’s tears from her eyes.

“Fuck what Olaf said!” Klaus shouted. “We would never leave you!” Klaus felt a little insulted that Violet would believe Olaf when he had told this blatant lie but he also could fault Violet, who knew what she had been through and for how long she had been drugged. Maybe she is only believing what Olaf had said because she was high on the knockout drugs. Klaus was cautiously running through the burning hospital, still panicked beyond belief. He understood why Violet was a bit distracted but he would much rather have this discussion when he and both of his sisters were out of danger.

Sunny smiled down at her sister. “Ohana.” the toddler stated and Klaus knew that this needed no translation even to a very disoriented Violet. Violet smiled at her baby sister as Sunny pulled Violet’s locket from around her neck. “We love you, too,” Sunny said, as she put the locket around Violet’s neck gently.

The troupe was hot on their tails as the children passed another group of confused nurses and doctors. “Those must be those murderers Mattathias was talking about!” one cried. “Let’s help those other doctors capture them!”

Klaus steered the gurney around a corner, as several more hospital staff joined the chase. “Violet...we’re in trouble…”

“I...get...that…”

“Wake up,” Klaus begged Violet, who was looking around her in a confused way. “ Please, Violet!”

“Door!” Sunny shrieked as Violet limply grabbed Sunny in hopes of shielding her of any danger as Klaus pushed the gurney through the doors. Once the children were through the doors, Klaus was about to go down a specific hallway until the children caught a glimpse of bright orange flames.

“...what’s...that…?” Violet asked confused, gazing towards the bright orange flames until she couldn’t see them anymore. Sunny took this time to carefully crawl down to Violet’s ankles where she could see her sister had also been restrained. Sunny quickly began chewing through a third of Violet’s restraints until she heard a snap! Of the leather fabric. Sunny smiled as she crawled to the other side and began working on the final restraint.

“I told you there’s a fire and I need your help to escape,” Klaus pleaded.

“F...fire?” Violet repeated. “...where?”

“Here. In the hospital,”

“W-why...are...are we...in...a hos...pital?”

“That’s a rather long and depressing story,” Klaus said. “It’s also not important…” Klaus smiled at Sunny when he saw her sit up and give him two thumbs up, her way of indicating that Violet was no longer restrained.

“Get back here you brats!” the bald man yelled.

Klaus continued to push the gurney that carried his sisters as he watched frantic hospital staff run right past him, more concerned about finding safety than capturing the children. Klaus pushed every empty gurney he passed behind him in hopes of slowing down the angry mob.

“Stairs!” Sunny yelled, pointing to a staircase. Klaus turned the gurney in the direction his sister indicated. Sunny’s eyes widened with fear once she realized what her brother might be doing. She quickly crawled back closer to Violet and him, preferring to be on that side of the gurney if she was right about what Klaus was planning.

“Sunny, hold on,” Klaus cried as he jumped on to the back of the gurney holding on for dear life as Sunny took the opportunity of grabbing onto both Klaus and Violet, her way of attempting to keep them from falling off. The children began to roll down the stairs, bouncing up and down with each step. It was a fast, slippery ride that reminded Klaus of playgrounds that he would visit with his parents when he was younger. At a curve in the staircase, Klaus scraped his shoes against the floor to stop the gurney, and then leaned over to look at one of the hospitals’ confusing maps.

“I’m trying to figure out if we should go through that door,” he said, pointing at a door marked ‘Ward for People with Nasty Rashes’. “Or continue down the staircase.”

“We can’t go down,” Sunny cried as she pointed a finger downward. Klaus looked and even Violet managed to focus enough to look down where Sunny was pointing. Down the staircase, just past the next landing, was a flickering, orange glow, as if the sun was rising out of the hospital basement, and a few wisps of dark black smoke were curling up the staircase like the tentacles of some ghostly animal. It was an eerie sight that had haunted the two younger Baudelaires in their dreams, ever since that fateful day at the beach when all their trouble began and had only haunted Violet since she had been sent to Prufrock. For a moment, the three children were unable to do anything but stare down at the orange glow and the tentacles of smoke, and think about all they had lost because of what they were looking at.

“Fire,” Violet cried faintly.

“Yes,” Klaus sighed. “It’s spreading up this staircase. We’ve got to turn and go back upstairs.”

From upstairs, the orphans listened to Olaf’s troupe members arguing.

“No up,” Sunny said.

“I can see that,” Klaus replied. He gave a low growl as he turned his sisters’ gurney towards the door marked ‘Ward for People with Nasty Rashes’, having made this rash decision, Klaus turned the gurney and wheeled it through the door, just as his favorite person began speaking over the intercom.

“Fuck you!” Sunny screamed at the intercom.

“This is Mattathias!” he said hurriedly. “All associates of mine, continue to search for those children! Everyone else, gather in front of the hospital! Either we will catch those murderous orphans as they escape, or like their pesky parents ... they’ll be burned to a crisp! ” The children shuddered as they all listened to the unhinged madman laugh into the intercom microphone once more. Laughing as though he was a Disney villain who had just momentarily won against the protagonist.

Klaus and Sunny looked at each other worriedly when they watched Violet shudder. She slowly wrapped her arms around herself. “I-I...I don’t….l-like...fires,” she admitted softly, not looking either sibling in the eye. “...I...lost...m-my....dad...in a….f-f-fire,”

Klaus frowned as Sunny merely nodded. “We know. We did, too, sis.” Klaus cried.

“Have each other,” Sunny explained.

The children’s eyes got wide when they heard Olaf’s troupe members once again approaching. Klaus rolled his sisters’ gurney into the Ward for People with Nasty Rashes and saw that Mattathias was right. The gurney was racing down a hallway, and the children could see another orange glow at the far end of it.

“...no…” Violet whimpered. The children heard another brief argument behind them as Olaf’s associates lumbered down the stairs. The three siblings were trapped in the middle of a hallway that led only to a fiery death or Olaf’s clutches.

Klaus started breathing heavily as he was trying to weigh his options in his head. While Violet wrapped her limp arms around Sunny. Klaus leaned down and stopped the gurney. “We’d better hide,” he said, jumping to the floor. “It’s too dangerous to be rolling around like this.”

“Where?” Sunny asked desperately, as Klaus helped Violet sit up on the gurney. Klaus quickly took Sunny from Violet’s arm and set her on the ground.

“Someplace close by,” Klaus said, grabbing Violet’s arm. “The anesthesia is still wearing off, so Violet can’t walk too far.”

“I’ll...try…” Violet murmured, stepping unsteadily off the gurney and leaning onto Klaus. Sunny glanced around nervously for a hiding place. Her eyes quickly caught a door that read ‘Supply Closet’ and even if Sunny Baudelaire wasn’t the best reader, she still pointed her small finger towards the door.

“Over there!” Sunny cried as she raced towards the supply closet and opening it up.

“I guess so,” Klaus said doubtfully as he leaned Violet up against the wall. Violet began sliding down the moment that she was left to stand on her own. Klaus quickly turned towards the now empty gurney that Olaf had used to restrain his older sister. He gripped the gurney and waited until he saw the angry mob running towards him. He pushed the gurney with all his might towards the crowd that was trying to help Olaf capture the children. The gurney hit Brandon with enough force that it caused him to fall to the ground, wincing at the pain that had been afflicted on him.

Klaus hurried back to his older sister, who was practically napping on the floor. “Come on, Vi. This way. This way.” He dragged the limp Violet towards the supply closet as he gripped the doorknob with one hand while balancing his sister with the other. “I don’t know what we can do in a supply closet, but at least it’ll hide us for a few moments.”

Klaus helped his older sister through the door, immediately slamming the door behind him and locking it. Except for a small window in the corner, the closet looked identical to the one where Klaus and Sunny had hidden to decipher the anagram in the patient list. It was a small room, with only one flickering lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, and there were rows of white medical coats hanging from hooks, a rusty sink, huge cans of alphabet soup, cases of surgical tubing, and small boxes of rubber bands, and a small chair. But as the two younger Baudelaires looked at these supplies, they did not look like devices for translating anagrams or impersonating medical professionals. Klaus and Sunny looked at all these objects, and then at their older sister. To their relief, Violet’s face was a bit less pale, and her eyes were a bit less confused, which was a very good sign. The eldest of the three orphans needed to be as awake as she could be, because the items in the closet were looking less and less like supplies and more and more like materials for an invention.

You see, when Violet Snicket was five years old, she won her first invention contest with an automatic rolling pin she’d fashioned out of a broken window shade and six pairs of roller skates. As the judges placed the gold medal around her neck, she could remember her father saying, “I bet you could invent something with both hands tied behind your back.” and the judges agreed while Violet smiled proudly. She knew, of course, that her father and the judges did not mean that they were going to tie her hands behind her back and watch as she tried to invent something, but merely that she was so skilled at inventing that she could probably build something even with substantial interference, a phrase which here means ‘something getting in her way’.

The young Snicket girl had proved the judges and her father right dozens of times, of course, inventing everything from a lockpick to inventing a way to get herself and her younger brother out of jail back in the Village of Fowl Devotees with the substantial interference of being in a hurry and not having the right tools. But violet thought she had never had as much substantial interference as the lingering effects of anesthesia as she squinted at the objects in the supply closet and tried to focus on what her siblings were saying.

“Violet,” Klaus cried worriedly, watching Violet shakily push her hair behind her ear. Klaus couldn’t tell if she was shaking from anxiety and fear or if she was cold seeing that she was now barefoot and all she wore was a hospital gown. “I know that the anesthesia hasn’t completely worn off, but we need you to try to invent something...I can’t...last time I...I invented...something...he…he...” Klaus said as he closed his eyes slowly beginning to shake, placing his arms across his chest.

“Shhhh…” Violet cooed for longer than she wanted because her brain felt like mush and she forgot what she was focusing on. “...I...know,” she said faintly, rubbing her eyes with her hands slowly in a desperate attempt to focus her eyes.

“We’ll...we will...help you all we can,” Klaus said as he slowly began to calm down.

“My teeth are at…” Sunny chimed in, showing off her sharp teeth. “At your service.”

“Just tell us what we need to do,” Klaus cried.

“T-tell me….again...wha...what’s hap...pen...ning?” Violet asked, her head spinning as she slowly slid down the wall she was leaning on. Klaus ran to Violet’s aide hurriedly standing her up and sitting her down in the chair that Sunny had pushed towards her older siblings.

“The fire is consuming this entire hospital, and we have to get out of here quickly!,” he cried desperately as the henchperson of Indeterminate Gender, Brandon, and a few others from the angry mob began to knock on the door. “Oh and not only is Olaf after us, but another angry mob who thinks we’re criminals are right outside this door.”

Klaus ran towards the door to push his back against it, hoping to keep the mob out of the supply closet. He was well aware that he had already locked the door but he felt more secure pressing his weight against the door.

“Open up in there!” the Henchperson cried as the knocking ceased.

“What? No!” Klaus cried, giving an incredulous face towards the mere thought of surrendering now.

“Please,” the henchperson cried as they began to knock on the door once.

“ Violet! ” Klaus cried. “Right now would be a really good time for one of your plans!”

“Brain blast!” Sunny cried desperately.

“Wait, I thought I was Jimmy Neutron,” Klaus asked confused.

“Eh, you both are,” Sunny replied, with a shrug of her shoulders.

Violet slowly leaned back in the chair, pointing a limp finger at the window. “Open...the window,” she directed as Klaus gazed from the locked door to the window. He sighed as he ran towards the window opening it.

“Now what?” he asked.

“H-how...high...are we?” Violet asked, giggling slightly.

The middle orphan glanced outside. “It looks like we’re on the third floor, maybe the fourth. That’s probably around thirty or forty feet, I think,” he responded. “There’s so much smoke in the air, so it’s hard to tell. We’re not so high up, but we’re too high to jump.”

“Climb?” Sunny asked.

“There’s an intercom speaker right below us,” Klaus explained. “I suppose we could hang on to that and climb down to the bushes below, but we’d be climbing in front of a huge crowd…”

He turned to Violet, whose eyes were slowly closing, he could tell by how she strained her face that she was desperately trying to keep her eyes open. Klaus looked to Sunny worriedly. “ Vi, please,” he cried. “I hate to pressure you...but...I can’t do this without you,” he felt tears forming in his eyes.

“Can you invent something that can make us fly?” Sunny asked slowly.

Violet frowned and closed her eyes, slowly shaking her head. “S-sorry...no...fairy...dust here…” she cried.

“Violet?” Klaus called out, after a moment of watching his sister keep her eyes closed. “You’re not falling asleep, are you?” he asked gently but frantically.

“No,” she replied. “I’m...thinking.” she sighed. “We...need...to distract...the crowd...before...we...climb down,”

The two younger orphans nodded as Violet pointed a finger towards her brother. “Open...those...boxes...of rubber...bands. String them...together...to make...a cord,”

Klaus looked down and watched the volunteers giving evacuated hospital patients balloons. “But how will that distract the crowd?”

“I...don’t...know…” Violet admitted and looked to the floor. “I...I can’t...do this,”

Klaus and Sunny’s eyes widened when Violet said that. “Yes you can,” Sunny cried.

“I’m having...trouble...focusing...my...inventing...skills,” she admitted as her eyes filled to the brim with tears. “I’m...sorry,” Violet shakily tried to reach into her pocket until she realized she didn’t have any pockets. She began to shudder as she sat. Remembering her time as Olaf’s captive and how he had forced her to change from her overalls to the hospital gown. “He...he...he...he took my...last...ribbon…”

“Help,” Sunny said, as she walked over to her big sister.

“Don’t cry for help, Sunny,” Klaus said miserably. “No one will help us,”

“Help,” Sunny insisted as the youngest orphan grabbed a hold of one of the medical coats that hung on the coat rack. She opened her mouth wide and she bit down on the fabric, ripping a small strip off the coat with her teeth. Then she held up the strip of white cloth and handed it to Violet. “Ribbon,” Sunny explained as Violet gave her baby sister a weary smile. With unsteady fingers, the eldest orphan tied her hair up to keep it out of her eyes, using the thin strip of fabric instead of her hair ribbon. She closed her eyes again, and then slowly nodded.

“I know...it’s silly…” she admitted. “But...it helps,” she placed a shaky, pale hand on Sunny’s head. “Thank...you...Sunny,”

The eldest orphan sighed as she strained her face still trying to overcome the effects of the anesthetic. “Klaus...get to work...on the...rubber...bands. S-Sunny...can you open….one of these...soup cans?”

“Yes, I opened some,” Sunny began. “Earlier to help Klaus.”

Violet smiled at the toddler. With her hair up in a ribbon, even if the ribbon was spurious, her voice sounded a bit stronger and more confident than it had before, although both siblings could tell she was still disoriented. “We need...an...empty...can...asap,”

The three siblings worked quickly. Klaus opened a box of rubber bands and began tying them together using the Devil’s Tongue Knot. Sunny began to gnaw at the top of a can of soup and Violet slowly scooted her chair towards the small sink and splashed water in her face to try to make herself as alert as possible. Finally, Klaus had a long cord of rubber bands curled at his feet like a snake, Sunny had taken the top off a can of soup and was quickly pouring the contents of the can down the sink, and Violet was staring anxiously at the bottom of the closet door, from which a very thin wisp of smoke was crawling through.

“The fire...is...getting...closer,” she alerted her siblings. Even with the fire closing in on the orphans, the crowd outside the door hadn’t left and continued to bang on the door. Klaus imagined if it were any other henchperson who had found the children, that door would be torn off the hinges by now so Klaus was happy that it was the Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender who was leading the angry mob.

“The cord is all ready,” Klaus cried. Violet merely frowned.

“Not...long...enough,” she cried, looking around.

“Tube?” Sunny asked as she pulled a long piece of surgical tubing out of a bin that was placed on a few of the shelves in the supply closet.

Violet merely nodded. “It’ll...have...to...do. Klaus...tie...our cord...and the...tube...together,”

Klaus looked at his sister confused but followed her orders. “Are you sure you tied your hair tight enough? How can we distract a crowd with an empty soup can?”

“Incompetent,” Sunny chimed in which meant, “I mean I know they are all incompetent and unhelpful as Mr. Poe but I don’t think they are all stupid enough to be distracted by an empty soup can.”

Klaus quickly translated for Violet. Violet gave a light giggle. “It’s not...an...empty...soup can. Well...not...anymore,” she explained slowly. “Now...it’s...a spurious...intercom. Sunny...poke one...hole in….the bottom...of the can,”

“Wha?” Sunny replied in complete and utter confusion, but she did as her elder sister asked because Sunny trusted Violet wholeheartedly even if she didn’t understand the point. Sunny knew that Violet’s inventive skills had helped save her, herself, and their brother before. So she quickly poked a hole in the bottom of the can using her sharpest tooth.

“Now...Sunny and I...are going...to hold...this near...the window…” she explained. “But we...must...make sure...the crowd...doesn’t see it…”

“I don’t follow,”

“The crowd...has to...think your...voice...is coming...from the...intercom.”

“My voice?”

“I...can’t...I’m too...drowsy...and I...sound...nothing...like...Olaf,”

“I don’t either!” Klaus cried defensively.

Violet put a limp hand on Klaus’ shoulder. “I know...but...the crowd...will know...something’s...up...if I do...it,”

Klaus sighed but nodded his head. Violet and Sunny held the empty can near the window, and Klaus leaned in and stuck his head inside it as if it were a mask. The middle orphan took a deep breath to gather his courage, and then he began to speak. From inside the can his voice sounded scratchy and faint as if he was talking with a piece of aluminum foil over his mouth, which was precisely how Violet wanted him to sound.

“Attention!” Klaus announced. “This is Mattathias Medical-School, head of Human Resources.” he rolled his eyes as he continued. “The murderous orphans have been spotted in the unfinished wing of the hospital.” Violet smiled as she and Sunny gave him a thumbs up. “We require everyone’s assistance in making sure they do not escape. Please rush over there right away. That is all!”

Klaus pulled his head out of the can and looked at his sisters. “Do you think it worked?”

Sunny opened her mouth to answer but she was interrupted by the voice of Brandon Spats. “Did you hear that?” the children heard him say. “The criminals are over in the unfinished wing of the hospital! Come on, everyone.”

“Maybe some of us should stay here at the front entrance, just in case,” the children heard Hal suggest.

Klaus sighed as he stuck his head back into the can that his sisters were holding. “Attention! This is Mattathias! No one should stay at the front entrance of the hospital! It’s too dangerous! Proceed at once to the unfinished wing. That is all.”

The three children snuck glances outside the window as the crowd slowly began to walk away from the front of Heimlich Hospital.

“It...worked,” Violet cried in disbelief. “We...fooled them…”

“We’re as good at tricking people as Olaf is,” Klaus commented, a frown forming on his face. “And at disguises...we fooled everyone but him,”

“Anagrams,” Sunny added.

“And lying...to...people,” Violet cried, thinking of Hal, the shopkeeper at Last Chance General Store and all the Volunteers Fighting Disease.

Klaus sighed. “Maybe we’re becoming villains after all,”

“No!” Sunny shrieked. “Don’t say that.”

“We’re...not...villains…” Violet countered, even if her gut feeling was saying something completely different. “We had...to do...tricky...things...in order...to save...our lives.”

“Olaf has to do tricky things,” Klaus countered. “To save his life,”

“Different,” Sunny argued.

Violet merely frowned. “Maybe...Klaus...is right. Maybe...it’s...not...different.” Violet said sadly. “Maybe…”

Violet was interrupted by the Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender sighing angrily and now using a fire extinguisher to break down the door that separated them from the three terrified and morally grey orphans.

“We can discuss this later,” Klaus said. “We have to get the fuck out of here!”

“Climb?” Sunny asked, looking at the rubber bands and surgical tubing.

“We’re not...climbing...we’re...bouncing,” Violet explained.

“What!?” Klaus cried.

“Bounce?” Sunny asked doubtfully.

Violet merely nodded. “Klaus, tie...our rope...to this pipe,” she said, pointing to a pipe that was located right next to the door. “This way...it breaks...our fall,”

“Is this safe? ” Klaus asked, taking another look out the window and feeling anxious about his sister’s plan and how high they are.

“Plenty...of...people...bounce from...high...places on long...rubbery...cords...for fun,” violet said. “So...we can...do it...to escape,”

Klaus sighed. “I don’t know...this sounds risky,” he cried. “For one...I doubt the cord is long enough.”

“Look...it is... risky,” Violet admitted. “But...not...as risky...as a fire,”

“Or Olaf,” Sunny added nervously.

The Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender continued to pound on the door of the supply closet with the fire extinguisher. Black smoke was beginning to pour through the crack as if the henchperson was pouring ink into the closet. Even the air outside was unsettling and filled with smoke. Klaus sighed and hurriedly tied the cord to the pipe and then tugged on it to make sure it was secure.

“Okay...who’s...going...first?” Violet asked drowsily. She was leaning against the wall again since she didn’t have all the feeling in her legs back yet.

“First?” Sunny asked, confused.

Klaus merely gave her a look of utter disbelief.

“Fine...you two...are nervous.” Violet cried, shrugging her shoulders. Assuming that her siblings’ issue was the invention’s safety and not her insisting they take turns. “I...invented...it, so I’d...better...test it.”

“No,” Klaus said simply.

“Then...go first,” Violet said.

“We’re not taking turns, Vi!”

“Together,” Sunny explained.

“If we...all...go down...together,” Violet said. “I’m...not sure...the cord will...hold,”

“Tough shit,” Klaus replied.

“Fine,” Violet cried. “ Sunny, will...go first...then,”

Klaus growled and rushed over to Violet, seemingly irritated with his older sister. He grabbed her harshly by the shoulders, she fell slightly in his grasp which made him instantly regret rushing up to her. But he knew he had to drive a point across. He gripped her shoulders and shook her a bit. The way she was limp from the anesthetic made it look like Klaus was harshly shaking his sister but Sunny knew that wasn’t the case. “ Listen to me very carefully, Vi!” he hissed. “ There is no first! We are not separating ever again!” Violet stared back at him, he could still tell that she couldn’t entirely focus on anything. “ This family sticks together!” he yelled causing her to start to tear up. “ We are not splitting up!”

“But...but...b-but…” she sniffled. “Snickers...Snick...S-Snickets...take care...of...their own.” she reasoned as she put a shaky hand on her locket.

Sunny merely looked up at Violet. “So do Baudelaires.”

Violet only shook her head. “B-but...Olaf...Olaf said…”

Klaus jumped when it sounded like the Henchperson was finally creating damage against the door. “Goddammit, Vi! Fuck Olaf! I hope he fucking burns to death in this fire!” Klaus cried as he released his grip on sister but kept a gentle hand on her shoulder. “ Especially if he hurt you.” Klaus frowned as he said it, purposely emphasizing the word ‘hurt’ to try to hint at Olaf’s disgusting, vile behavior towards Violet that was different from his behavior towards Klaus and Sunny. Violet looked towards Klaus and then to Sunny, eventually frowning and softly shaking her head and giving a small shrug in response.

There was an uncomfortable silence between the three siblings until Violet turned towards both Klaus and Sunny. “It won’t...support all...of us,” she explained.

“We’re not leaving anyone behind,” he said firmly. “Not this time. Either we all escape, or none of us do.”

“But if...none of...us do,” Violet said tearfully. “Then there...won’t be...anyone left...Olaf will...have won.”

Klaus shook his head as he reached into his pockets and pulled out one of the old photographs that he and Sunny had retrieved back when they lived at their Aunt Josephine’s. Klaus unfolded it and his sisters could see it was a photograph taken some years before Violet was even born. In the middle of the photograph, just like the one hidden in the depths of Lemony Snicket’s wallet, stood three people. All smiling and holding each other's hands. Klaus pointed first towards the tall, skinny man with glasses, then he pointed to a brown-haired woman who wore a fierce smile as she held the hands of the men she loved, and then finally he pointed to a man who wore a frown on his face, and a fedora and trenchcoat in hopes of masking his identity. “Jacques Snicket...your uncle...said there was a survivor of a recent fire ,” Klaus explained, his voice thick with tears.

Violet’s eyes widened. “The film...do you...still...have it?”

“No...we had to give it to Esme to save you,” he explained. “But that’s not important.” he looked from his little sister to his big sister. “We have to survive and find them. All of us . We all deserve to see who the survivor is. We all deserve that happy ending we’ve been wanting for a while now.” the middle orphan began to tear up. As his guilt began to surface. “and I’d rather die than lose either one of my sisters... again.” The bookworm quickly wiped away a few of his tears. “I can’t...I won’t let him take either of you, again.”

Klaus looked down at Sunny and then to Violet. She stood shakily before him in a mere hospital gown and she was bruised. Her cheeks were still red, her wrists and ankles had severe chafing from her struggling against her restraints, that they were either raw or simply pink. “I’m so sorry, Violet.” Klaus cried.

“Not your fault,” Sunny said as she watched Violet struggle to speak.

He looked down at Sunny. “I’m so sorry to you, too, Sunny. He only got you because you were protecting me. You both...were protecting me when he took you . ” he cried.

“Not your fault,” Sunny reassured. “I’d do it again...in a heartbeat,”

Violet nodded slowly in agreement.

The three siblings were tearing up as the Henchperson created the beginnings of a hole in the wall.

“Go time,” Sunny cried. “Escape now. Feelings later.”

“Agreed,” the two older siblings cried, although Violet sounded dizzier than Klaus.

Klaus picked up Sunny as Violet held the surgical tubing up so Klaus could spin himself and Sunny, effectively wrapping the tubing around the two siblings. He glanced towards Violet. “ We are going to survive...and find out what happened. We’ll find the survivor and either bring Olaf to jail...or kill him.”

“Down for murder,” Sunny cried.

“I...still...think if...we take...turns,” Violet protested frantically. “There’s a...better chance...that one of us...will survive.”

“All or nothing,” Sunny cried.

“We’re not leaving anyone behind,” Klaus said firmly. “ That’s what makes us different from Olaf and Esme.”

“ Ohana,” Sunny cried as she reached out and pulled the front of Violet’s hospital gown. The eldest orphan was still so limp that her minuscule effort succeeded and Violet now leaned on her and their brother. “ Just us,” she told Violet as Klaus wrapped a tight arm around both of his sisters as he slowly spun Violet around with them as he inched towards the window.

Violet didn’t fight. She didn’t struggle. She leaned in closer to her siblings feeling their warmth against her cold arms. “You’re right,” she said finally.

The hole in the door got even bigger as Violet shrieked.

“Don’t worry, Vi. We’re not leaving you behind again,” Klaus told her. Violet nodded as she did her best to wrap her arms tightly around her two younger siblings.

“I’ll...hold...on...to...you,” she explained.

“Same here,” Sunny cried as she wrapped her tiny arm around the arm that carried her and forced her tiny hand into her sister’s.

As Klaus carried his sisters to the window, he looked down once more, immediately regretting his decision. He glanced at the rubber band cord that Violet had him make and then at the surgical tubing he had tied it, too, and had now wrapped a good chunk of it around the three siblings.

“If it’s forty feet, we won’t make it.” He predicted.

“If it’s...say...maybe...thirty…,’ Violet began as she followed Klaus’ gaze down.

“We might,” Sunny shrugged.

The three children carefully made their way out of the window onto the small platform that lay alongside the window.

The huddled siblings barely fit on the ledge as the siblings looked down. This was at the same time as Olaf’s henchperson had successfully broken a hole in the door.

“Here I am, Nurse Lucafont.” the Henchperson called inside the empty supply closet. Utterly confused as to how the supply closet was empty. The children could hear the henchperson’s voice and look at one another nervously and then looked back down.

“I’m scared,” Violet admitted drowsily.

“I’m frightened,” Klaus cried.

“Sheer terror,” Sunny chimed.

As if they were thinking the exact same thing, each of the siblings gripped onto their two siblings as tight as they could. Violet managed to shout, “Hold on tight!” as the three siblings leaped out of the window of Heimlich Hospital.

STOP!

I am alone this evening, and I am alone because of several cruel twists of fate, a phrase which here means that nothing has happened the way I thought it should. Once I was a content individual, with a comfortable home, loving family that I loved very much, and a plethora of bedtime stories that were too strange to have been true...but...all of those things have been taken away from me, and now the only trace I have of those happy days are the photos I store in my pockets. As I sit in this very tiny room, printing these words with this very large pen, I feel as if our lives have been nothing but some dismal play, and that the playwright who invented these cruel twists of fate is somewhere far above me, laughing and laughing at their creation. This is not a pleasant way to feel, but this is how my story goes.

Now, despite my extensive research and my associate’s knowledge of abandoned VFD libraries, there are many things in this world that I do not know. I do not know how butterflies get out of their cocoons without damaging their wings. I do not know why anyone would boil vegetables when roasting them is tastier. I do not know how to make olive oil, and I do not know why dogs bark before an earthquake, and I do not know why some people voluntarily choose to climb mountains where it is freezing and difficult to breathe or live in the suburbs, where the coffee is watery and all of the houses look alike. I do not know why people start or join cults and I do not know how some people let revenge consume them to a highly unhealthy degree. I do not know how some people are brave enough to follow their passion in a world set out to destroy them. And I sadly, do not know how to stop the disastrous domino effect or fucked up twists of fates that seem to be plaguing several lives.

As such, I do not know where Violet Snicket or the Baudelaires are now, or if they are safe or if they are even still alive. But there are some things that I do know, thanks to the extensive research I’ve done investigating these cases, and one of them is that the window of the supply closet in the Ward for People with Nasty Rashes of Heimlich Hospital was not thirty or forty feet off the ground, as Klaus had guessed.

It’s twenty, which is exactly one foot higher than the length of the cord, so when the children leaped into the smoky air, clinging to each other for dear life, Violet’s invention worked perfectly. Like a yo-yo, the children bounced gently up and down, brushing their feet against one of the bushes planted in front of the hospital, and after a few bounces, Sunny released her grip on her siblings, although they kept theirs, and chewed through the elastic surgical tubing, biting through it just in time to smack Olaf’s henchperson in the face as they looked out the window. When the surgical tubing broke, Violet and Klaus fell the rest of the way to solid ground, Violet nearly toppling over. Klaus quickly put Sunny down and focused more of his attention and strength on Violet.

“We...made...it,” Violet cried.

“It was a close call,” Klaus agreed.

“But we survived,” Sunny argued.

The three siblings looked behind them at the hospital and saw just how close of a call it had been. The building looked like a fiery ghost, especially more so in a few places, with great bursts of flame coming from the windows, and oceans of smoke pouring from great gaping holes in the walls. The children could hear glass shattering as the windows burned away, and the crackle of wood as the floors began to fall through in some areas of the hospital. It occurred to the three children that their own homes must have looked like this on the day it burned down, and the three siblings stepped back from the burning building and huddled together as the air grew thick with ashes and smoke, obscuring the hospital from view.

“Where can we go?” Sunny asked.

“I don’t know. But any minute now someone’s bound to recognize us or realize that we’re not in the unfinished half of the hospital.” Klaus cried.

Klaus, with one hand holding Sunny’s and the other dragging Violet, began to walk away from the forming crowd. As more and more people pushed passed the children, rushing out of the hospital.

“Act casual,” Klaus told his sisters, noticing that Violet was adding more and more of her weight on to him.

“I’m...trying.;.”

Klaus glanced towards an empty ambulance. He tried to drag his sisters towards it in hopes of hot wiring it and driving far away from Olaf. But EMTs had beat him to it and began loading patients aboard.

“Keep your eyes open for those murderous brats!” one nurse yelled.

“I’ll find them. I know I will.” a volunteer fighting disease assured.

Klaus heard this and redirected himself and his sisters as he hurried behind a small half wall behind a few bushes in the front of the hospital. He was thankful for all the smoke in the air, it made this pitiful hiding place better.

“Stay down,” Klaus explained. “In The Encyclopedia of Escaping Arson, the author wrote that there’s more oxygen closer to the ground, so we can breathe more easily down here. But we need to get to some kind of shelter right away.”

Violet and Sunny scooted as close to Klaus as they could. Hoping to shrink themselves. Klaus and Violet both edged their heads up, Violet slowly beginning to focus better, as they gazed around for any way to escape. Klaus looked towards the left and Violet glanced towards the right, the smoky air was making it a bit difficult to see everything clearly.

“Where is there shelter?” Sunny asked. “Hospital is only building for miles.”

“...and it’s burning to the ground…” Klaus cried sadly.

“You!” a voice called out in the smoke. The three orphans froze. They did not freeze because a random passerby had recognized them and was pointing them out. They froze because the voice that had called out from the smoke was a voice all three siblings heard in their nightmares. Klaus gripped tightly to both of his sisters as Sunny let out a whimper and Violet let out a soft squeal as she and Klaus ducked their heads back down.

“He...didn’t...see...us, right?”

“I hope not,” Klaus cried.

The three children stayed as low as they could as they listened in on the madman’s rage.

“You!” Olaf called again, this time slamming his hand on the hood of his car. “Hooks for hands!” Olaf barked. “This way!”

The siblings breathed a quick sigh of relief, realizing that Olaf had not been referring to them but instead one of his henchpeople. With this newfound knowledge, Sunny slowly crawled over Klaus and Violet to etch her head around the edge of the half wall. Where only one eye could see Olaf while the other’s vision was obstructed.

Sunny watched a long, black shape emerge from the smoky air, and she could see it was an automobile, pulling up in front of the hospital. Not too far from the children. An automobile is somewhat like a shelter, but the siblings froze on the ground and dared not crawl an inch farther toward that car.

“Hurry up Esme!” Olaf yelled. “Hurry up! Or I’ll leave you behind!”

“We’re coming, darling!” Esme cried out as she hurried towards the car.

“Can you see the car in the smoke?” he asked.

“Yes, darling,” she replied. “Open the trunk I’ll throw the costumes in.” The three children held their breath as they listened to her odd footsteps as she walked right passed them, towards and around Olaf’s car.

“Oh, alright,” Olaf sighed, and Sunny watched in silence as the tall figure of her enemy stepped out of his vehicle.

“Wait up, Olaf!” the bald man yelled.

“You fool! I told you to call me Mattathias until we leave the hospital grounds!” Olaf growled as he opened the trunk. He watched as Esme threw the costumes in. He merely glared at her.

“What?”

He sighed angrily. “You lost my pet and the Baudelaires!” She opened her mouth to argue but he merely shook his head. “ But... it’s not only that! ” he yelled as he punched the roof of his car angrily. Esme rolled her eyes dismissively as she rounded the car and took her seat next to Olaf.

“You know this is horrific!” Esme whined. “We never found the sugar bowl after that stupid librarian told me it would be here!”

Olaf rolled his eyes at the mention of the sugar bowl.

“It’s worse than that,” he hissed.

“I know, and the bratty orphans escaped again,” Esme said rolling her eyes.

“Oh, it’s very, very worse than that,” he hissed in annoyance.

Esme looked to Olaf confused. Olaf slowly turned towards Esme as he took a deep breath, grasping the steering wheel tightly. “ There may be a survivor of a recent fire,” he hissed as her eyes widened, and then her expression shifted to match her fiery glare as she thought of the woman who had stolen everything from her.

“ Beatrice…!” Esme cried through gritted teeth.

Violet gasped as she heard sirens approaching. “The...police...and fire...fight...ers are here,”

“If they already thought we were murderous kidnappers, now they’ll think we’re all arsonists.” Klaus reasoned. “We need an escape,”

“Do...you...do you trust...me?” Violet asked after a moment of staring hard at Olaf’s trunk. The trunk was opened to where Violet could see that the lid of the trunk was peppered with tiny holes, bullet holes, it looked like, undoubtedly from being pursued by the police.

“...yeah?” Klaus answered back hesitantly. It was no lie that he trusted Violet with his life but her asking worried him for a number of reasons.

Violet leaned as close as she could to her siblings so she could whisper to them without being heard. “We’ve...got...to go in...there,” she said.

“Where?” Klaus whispered in reply.

“We... need to get...in O-Olaf’s...tr-trunk,” Violet reasoned.

“ Wha?!” Sunny shrieked in a horrified whisper.

“Are you still that high off the knock out drugs?” Klaus asked as he and Sunny glanced at one another in disbelief as if there was no way Violet had suggested for the three siblings to voluntarily stuff themselves into Olaf’s trunk.

“Oh yeah,” Violet said giggling. She placed her hand in Klaus’ hair. “You’ve got...rainbow... hair.” She gently slapped Klaus’ face. “Like...a clown,”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or serious,” Klaus replied in an annoyed tone.

“Doesn’t....matter. But that’s not...the point. We...have to avoid...getting cap...tured,” she said, her eyes rolling back slightly in her head. “and...find out...who the...survivor...is.”

“Getting in that trunk is getting captured!” Klaus argued.

Olaf took a deep breath and then glanced at one of his henchmen who stood outside of the car, looking around aimlessly. “Get in this car this instant! I’m leaving on the count of three! It’s been splendid setting this fire, but we’ve got to hunt down a certain...survivor...before those brats do!”

“Or VFD,” Esme added. “You know, the real VFD full of hypocrites, not those idiotic singers!”

“Just one second, boss. We’re waiting for Ainsley,” the Hook-Handed Man explained.

“I’m not going to wait around to find out if that fool lived or died!” Olaf yelled. “One!”

The Hook-Handed man tapped his hook worriedly on the roof of his boss’ car as he gazed around. Violet unknowingly lifted her head a bit until she felt as though the henchman had seen her and she ducked down worriedly.

“Y-you said you...trusted me,” Violet whined.

“I’d rather die than get into that fucker’s trunk!” Klaus hissed.

“Don’t you want to...bring him to justice?” Violet asked. “Don’t you...wanna find the...survivor? And clear...our names?”

Klaus looked to his sister, frowning. “Of course, I do. But I don’t want to die before we can!”

“No, no,” Sunny cried as she shook her head. “Been there...done that.”

Violet frowned as she placed her hands in her siblings and she held their hands as firmly as she could, to the point where it hurt to hang on to them. “Think of... everything... we survived together, ” she whispered, looking from her burdened brother to her scared sister. “We’ve lived through countless...unfortunate events...only to find ourselves... alone. ”

“Just us,” Sunny reminded her.

“I know…” Violet replied, smiling at Sunny. “But if one of...our parents...survived. It’ll all be worthwhile!” She released her grip on her siblings. “We have to find them...if it’s the last thing we do.”

Sunny sighed as she gazed at the gaping trunk, which looked like the mouth of some dark and smoky beast, eager to devour her and her siblings. As it had once devoured her and her friends, Duncan and Isadora Quagmire, not too long ago. But she knew her big sister was right and she trusted Violet to get her and her siblings out of danger, not in it. “You’re right,” Sunny murmured finally. “Getting in that trunk is our only hope.”

Violet smiled as she looked towards Klaus, who merely shook her head defiantly. “You’re right. You’re right about all of that. But I’m sorry, I’m not getting into that trunk.”

“Klaus...come on,” Sunny pleaded.

“What choice do we have?” Violet asked. “Trust me...I wish we had another escape...but we don’t, Klaus.”

“Violet, I am not getting in that trunk and there’s nothing you can do to convince me otherwise,” Klaus folded his arms across his chest. “You aren’t thinking straight, obviously. So I guess I’ll think of something.”

“ Two!” They heard Olaf shout to his henchpeople as the Hook-Handed Man smiled and rushed Ainsley into their boss’ car.

Klaus continued to shake his head at the sound of Olaf’s voice.

Violet rolled her eyes, tapped her finger on her chin deep in thought. She glanced at Sunny and a wicked smile grew on her face. “I...know..how to get...you in that trunk,”

“What did I just say?” Klaus asked. “I’m not getting in…” he began before Violet stood up shakily, picking up Sunny in the process and running stealthily towards Olaf’s trunk.

“No, you did not just…” Klaus cried angrily. “Dammit, Violet!” he hissed following her quickly, continuing to look behind the siblings to make sure that no one was following them.

Violet stumbled as she reached the trunk. She fell to the ground, shielding Sunny from the pavement. “Whoopsie,” she whispered.

Klaus catches up to his sisters and merely glares at Violet as the three crawl a few more inches to the trunk. “Of all the dirty handed tricks you could pull…” he started, in a hushed whisper.

“It got you over here...didn’t it?” Violet asked as she opened Olaf’s trunk slowly. The children ducked down low as the trunk lid stayed opening welcoming them inside with a damp, terrible odor that had Violet having second thoughts.

Violet stumbled awkwardly as she tried to maneuver herself into Olaf’s trunk while still kneeling down. “Give me a hand, please,” Violet begged her brother. Klaus sighed as he reluctantly helped Violet into the trunk.

“We’ll be able to breathe, right?” Sunny asked, worriedly as Violet rolled as far as she could allowing her brother and sister room. Violet felt her knee slam against something but she didn’t pay it any attention as she felt the shuffling of Olaf’s troupe member trying to get situated in the back seat.

“Yes,” Klaus whispered as he picked up Sunny. “Air will come through the bullet holes,” he explained to his baby sister as he laid her atop of their big sister. The second Sunny was laying down on Violet, she began to squirm and shake as if she were having a panic attack. Klaus frowned as he glanced down at Violet, who merely frowned back. Violet hastily unclasped her locket and handed it to Sunny.

“Sometimes when I’m scared…” Violet admitted. “The only thing that calms...me down. Is our Mama.” Violet shakily moved her hands to open the locket but she was having slight difficulties. Sunny reached up and opened the locket for her. Both sisters gazed up at the picture of their mother, smiling down on them.

Klaus sighed as he grabbed hold of the trunk. “This is not the sort of shelter I had in mind,” he said begrudgingly. “But...I guess it might do.”

“It’ll have to do,” Violet whispered to him. And with that, the middle orphan maneuvered himself inside his enemy’s trunk, beside his older sister.

“ Three!!” Olaf shouted as Violet simultaneously closed the trunk just as the bald man slammed the passenger back side door shut. Once Violet had closed the trunk, the siblings were left in utter darkness, and their shelter rattled and shook as Olaf started the engine and began to drive across the landscape, which was as flat and desolate as ever. But the children could not see outside, of course. In the blackness of the trunk, they could not see anything at all. Sunny whimpered and handed Violet back her locket.

“We’re right here, Sunshine,” Klaus whispered, trying to hide the fact that he, too, was terrified. They could only hear their long, shivering breaths as the air rushed through the bullet holes, and feel their shoulders tremble as they shivered in fear.

Klaus pulled Sunny a bit towards him so that she was now laying on both him and Violet and not squishing Violet entirely. Violet’s head rolled around as Olaf drove.

“Here,” Klaus whispered, prompting for Violet to lift her head. He placed his arm underneath his sister’s head giving her some comfort as Sunny grabbed onto Violet’s hand. Violet snuggled closer to her siblings still high on the anesthetic.

“You...guys came back...for me,” she cried, tears flowing.

“That’s what siblings do,” Sunny explained.

“You’re our sister,” Klaus agreed.

“Where to next, boss?’ the children could hear the Hook-Handed man ask.

“How the fuck would I know!?” Olaf yelled as he reached outside his window to remove a flyer that was obstructing his vision. “I’m not…”

He stopped once he read the flyer. “...a fortune teller. But I know who is,” he said wickedly as he began to laugh maniacally.

The children shifted slightly when Olaf slammed his foot on the gas. The three siblings huddled together as tightly as they could. Both Violet and Klaus held one of Sunny’s tiny hands. Both older siblings could feel their sister tremble as she laid on them inside Olaf’s trunk. They knew that she was having flashbacks of her time in captivity with the Quagmires. They were trying to do all they could to relax her.

As the three gazed outside the bullet holes of Olaf’s car, it was as if they were stargazing, although the siblings were all falling victim to their thoughts. Klaus sighed, breaking the silence.

“I guess...we’re still on the lam,” he whispered.

“We’re alive and...we’re together,” Violet countered.

Sunny held on tightly to her siblings’ hands trying to stay calm and not freak out that she had once again found herself inside Olaf’s trunk. The bitter stench was bringing back memories that Sunny would rather stay buried away from her psyche. She knew circumstances were slightly different, this time. She wasn’t forced into the trunk against her will, she had been persuaded by her elder sister to voluntarily enter the trunk. She had her siblings and she knew they would never let anyone hurt her and the biggest difference is that Olaf and Esme had no idea that she and her siblings were hitching a ride in his trunk.

Klaus’ eyes slowly began to fall as he slightly shifted. He was exhausted in more ways than one. But as he felt Violet shift her head slightly on his arm and Sunny grip tighter to his hand, he knew it was what he had to do. He didn’t know exactly what had happened to his sister during her time in Olaf’s clutches and he was scared that she might not know the answer and it pained him to know that Olaf was the only person that could give his sister closure on that topic. He sighed as quietly as he could. He wasn’t the happiest about how Violet convinced him to get into Olaf’s trunk but he would have to deal with it. Klaus was fighting the urge to sleep because he refused to be asleep if the children were discovered and he wouldn’t be able to fight for his sisters. He felt like he’s failed them so many times already, that he needs to step up his game and be there more for them. That’s what he vowed to do for his sisters and whoever the survivor was.

Violet held onto Sunny’s arm as she began to silently sob. She was still scared that they were now in the trunk of the man who wants to do nothing but harm them. She was still contemplating everything that had happened to her or what she suspected happened. Violet was unsure of a lot of things right now and how close she was to her siblings was one of them. In her head, Olaf and Esme’s words ring endlessly on a tiresome loop that was continually driving Violet insane. Violet still had huge insecurities but she was starting to doubt a few of her insecurities.

If what they said was true...Klaus had every chance to take Sunny and run...but they stayed. They rescued me. He kept himself and his sister in danger to save me . Why didn’t he take Sunny and run? She pondered to herself. She desperately hoped, Maybe just maybe Olaf was wrong and Klaus did see her as a sister, not just a protector.

Violet sighed, still coming down from the amount of anesthetic Olaf had administered to her. “What’s...that stanza...again?” she asked hastily.

“What?” Klaus whispered back, confused. His eyes were closed as if he had lost his fight against sleep.

“The Snicket lad?” Sunny whispered in the softest of whispers, terrified to see what Olaf would do if he heard the name ‘Snicket’ and then opened his trunk to find one and two Baudelaires.

Violet nodded. “You know...you guys are gonna love him,” she replied in a whisper.

Klaus and Sunny looked at one another both knowing what their sister meant. Although both younger siblings had different predictions when it comes to the survivor, they allowed Violet the courtesy of being able to freely share hers.

“If you drive away in secret,” Klaus whispered. “You’ll be a volunteer,”

“So don’t scream,” sunny whispered.

“When we take you…” Violet whispered.

“ The world is quiet here…” the three siblings recited simultaneously as they held on tighter to each other.

It was not the sort of shelter the children had in mind, never in their entire lives, but as they huddled as close together as they could, they guessed it might do. For these three orphans, if indeed they were still orphans, the shelter of Count Olaf’s trunk would have to do, until something better came along.

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