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#family on fire verse
countessviolet · 6 days
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Family on Fire - Ch. 1 - Morning Commute
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You would think with as much complaining Count Olaf did about the Baudelaires’ cooking that he would be more than happy to take the siblings grocery shopping. But the Count had not stopped groaning since Violet told him earlier that morning that a shopping trip was a necessary evil.
“You don’t have to come in,” Klaus suggested hopefully. If it were cooler out, he and his sisters would have simply walked or taken the trolley, but somehow, they once again found themselves escorted via Count Olaf’s coffin on wheels.
“No,” Olaf growled as he swerved into three parking spots. “You’ll spend all my hard-earned money on dumb things like toothpaste or vegetables.”
“Count Olaf, we’ve talked about this already, you cannot sustain your body and health on meat platters!” Klaus argued, grabbing their bags from the front.
Violet balanced Sunny as she dug her list from her hand-stitched pockets. “We’ll get all the nutrition we need as long as we stick to the list.”
Count Olaf snatched the list from Violet’s hand, frowning in disgust at the paper and shoving it back to her just as quickly. “Read it to me.”
Violet rolled her eyes and adjusted her bag as Klaus relieved her of Sunny and found them a cart.
“Milk, eggs, flour –”
“I don’t hear bacon, brisket or jerky,” Olaf bemoaned, violently giggling a gumball machine at the store’s entrance until several brightly colored balls shot out. Klaus reached out for one but Count Olaf blindly shoved the rest in his jacket pocket.
Violet proceeded to weigh several apples, calculating their cost as she continued to tame the restless count. “We still have stew meat in the freezer, and Justice Strauss brought over those mackerel last night, so that will get us through a few meals protein-wise.”
The count stared at his eldest ward uncomfortably. “Is...are you trying to starve me to death? That’s the thanks I get for taking you in?” His expression changed to solemn appreciation. “I’m impressed.”
“We’re on a budget, Count Olaf,” Klaus explained with less patience than his sister. A dark cloud fell over the count’s face at the mere mention that the Baudelaire fortune was still so far out of his grasp. He hit Klaus once for bringing it up, so Violet, well-versed in the Count’s change in mood, maneuvered the cart into his grasp. All Sunny had to do was flash Olaf her sharp teeth and the actor quickly pushed the cart as far out as he could as he stayed close to the other orphans.
Violet diagnosed that Count Olaf was a restless man not too long after she and her siblings moved in with him. A man-child, Klaus disagreed, with a drinking problem and unchecked ego, he would add. They agreed to disagree and further agreed to never deal with Count Olaf alone, but in the meantime compromised with how to deal with him together. With Klaus, it would be leaving him to his own devices and dealing with the consequences later. Violet elected to distract him in her line of sight. Sunny additionally acted as an extra set of eyes on Count Olaf, and she had her own method of dealing with their insufferable guardian.
The baby was humming. It was as annoying, more so than the pointless babbling only her siblings could understand. He snarled down at the youngest Baudelaire, wrinkling his nose as she squirmed in the cart’s seat and pointed a chubby hand at something.
“What is it, pipsqueak,” Olaf growled. He followed her insistent pointing to the meat section. Before him were gorgeous cuts of prime rib, coils of fresh sausages and rumps of roast, plump and juicy for the taking.
“Mmmm?” Sunny hummed, looking up at the count expectedly.
The Count looked back and forth at the baby and the meat section before grinning viciously.
“Not bad, orphan, not bad,” he said, sending a sharp look to his left and right before he eased the cart to the meat section.
Violet finished bagging grapes and cucumbers just in time to find Klaus returning with two boxes of crackers.
“Their one sale,” he said proudly. Violet grinned happily for him. It was hard to believe this time last year the siblings never had to step foot in a supermarket, never had to worry about things like budgeting or brand or weight comparisons. While their parents hadn’t spoiled Violet, Klaus or Sunny to the point of rottenness, the children had still wanted for nothing, and things like a full shopping cart or a second change of clothes were now a luxury. No doubt their time with the count had humbled the Baudelaires more than they were, despite what Olaf said or thought, and they learned how to make use of what they had and what they could get their hands on.
Violet did some quick calculations and smiled. “We have a little bit left over. Maybe we can tame Olaf with a pound of bacon.”
Klaus smirked at his sister’s rare zinger towards Count Olaf. Violet tended to keep her discontent with their situation quieter than he did, which had inadvertently caused her to become a sort of referee in the shared Count Olaf/Baudelaire household. He tried to be thoughtful of what an outburst with Olaf could mean for her, but the count of insufferable on a good day, downright intolerable on a bad one. It was better when it was just him and his sisters. He wished more than anything Mr. Poe would make up his mind about letting them access an allowance from Violet’s inheritance, enough to sate Olaf at least.
“Maybe we can convince him to take us to the library since we...”
Klaus trailed off just as he and his sister noticed their cart, and more importantly, their baby sister and the maniac she was watching, were gone.
The eldest Baudelaires shared a concerned look before calmly speeding through the store to find them.
“Sunny?” Klaus hissed in between aisles. If Olaf was in the parking lot trying to sell her again, he was going to throttle him!
“Sunny?” Violet whispered as she circled through the produce section, hoping her baby sister would be here with fresh, hard fruits and vegetables where she could get something crunchy to snack on.
“Sunny?” Klaus hissed as he darted up and down the aisles. He made a begrudged turn to the wine and spirits section where Violet too had stopped. She shook her head exhaustedly, looking around as if Olaf and Sunny would manifest through the multi-colored bottles.
“We should go to security and page them,” Klaus suggested. If anything happened to Sunny...
A crash just ahead paused the eldest Baudelaires next steps. A crash, or course, was not uncommon in a place like a grocery store, but Count Olaf was in the grocery store, which meant disaster was imminent, and that police were being called or were already on their way.
Violet and Klaus shot around to see the items on the shelves shaking as something from the other side of the aisle sped past.
“Stop you!” Someone yelled, and, to Klaus’ and Violet’s horror, Sunny’s familiar babble echoed back. And then –
“Quit whining brat and PUSH!” Count Olaf’s voice exploded through the aisle, brushing so close to the one next to it that the shelves began to tip.
Violet and Klaus dodged the chaos, running toward the tipping shelves and side-stepping frantic shoppers and finally came face to face with Count Olaf and the rickety shopping cart he was commanding. He was in the basket, the few items they had picked up crushed under his shoes and knees, creating a wet, slippery trail in his wake as—Sunny!—clung to the bottom of the basket, her small foot kicking with enough force to keep a sizable gap between them and what appeared to be store security and a slightly overweight man in a collared shirt. A manager perhaps?
The siblings looked at each other, mouths agape, and scattered. Violet dashed for the parking lot to find Olaf’s car. He didn’t lock the door, not like there was anything inside worth stealing anyway, but he had taken the keys. Violet tied her hair back, her hands somehow steady as she began unraveling wires from the dashboard, trying to remember was she tried to remember what she knew about electrical connections and cars. She glanced at the store, just able to see the cart whip back and forth through the wide front windows. Klaus was attempting to round up their wayward guardian and sister while also distracting security to give Sunny and Olaf a chance to escape store security. The automatic doors burst open as he, followed by the cart, an overturned Olaf and a stuttering Sunny clinging to the uneven wildly-spinning wheel.
Violet made eye-contact with Klaus just as the car roared to life, the cables and wires bobbing out like fresh intestines. The young inventor ripped the passenger door open, allowing Count Olaf to crash into the spacious back seat while Klaus rescued Sunny from the other side of the cart and flew into the seat with Violet. The eldest Baudelaire wasted no time slamming on the gas, miraculously swerving onto the road without hitting another vehicle.
“And don’t come back – ” the possible store manager yelled after them. Klaus sat up, Sunny clutched to his chest, mostly unharmed.
“That’s the third place we’ve been banned from this year,” he muttered, adjusting the rearview mirror and watching the cars behind them suspiciously.
“I don’t think the police are coming,” Violet said as she slowed to a safer speed, adjusting the seat enough for her to reach the pedals. “Sunny, are you okay?”
“Nope,” Sunny babbled. “That sucked.”
Violet nodded as she eased into the driveway of 667 Dark Avenue, taking Sunny as the three of them went to check on Olaf—who had remained suspiciously quiet in the back seat. Klaus opened the back seat, jumping out of the way as the count rolled out, landing spread-eagle on the weed-infested asphalt, groaning his grievances up to an unsympathetic crowd. He soon had no choice but to follow his lackluster wards into the house, frowning in dissatisfaction as Klaus questioned a confession out of the infant.
“Five-finger discount? Really, Olaf?” Klaus spat.
“We would have been fine if she let me replace her diaper bag contents with roast!” the count spewed back, making a face at the stupid nerd as he sauntered into the kitchen, pulling a bag of peas to ice his aching temple with. “And I was going to pay for some of it, thank you very much!”
Violet sighed, rubbing her eyes. She didn’t want to talk or think about the situation anymore. “I’m going to make dinner,” she said, grimacing as she picked up Sunny. “With something.”
“Oh!” the Count exclaimed, digging through his jacket pockets before he brought out a bloody package surrounded by styrofoam and plastic wrap.
“Steaks,” Klaus gasped, as dumbfounded as anyone would be after an afternoon of dodging supermarket security, hot-wiring ones own car, and causing a disturbance to save one’s morally damaged legal guardian, only to discover that the cause of all that trouble was a package of four flimsy, raw steaks that were very much out of budget.
Violet too shared an expression of shock as Count Olaf, smiling as giddily as a young boy who just caught his first fish, held up the steaks like a prize.
“Well, now that I’ve successfully provided for the family–”
Violet had a split second to judge where the four-pack of steaks would land before she launched across the foyer to catch it. She grimaced when the steaks squelched in her palms, the thin layer of plastic the only obstacle between her and the pungent cow blood threatening to ooze through the wrapping.
“I like mine medium rare," Olaf finished as he dropped the back of peas on Sunny's head, waving as he circled the stair banister. "Call me when dinner's ready, thanks!”
The Baudelaires watched as he strutted up the stairs, practically skipping. They shook their heads, too drained to feel anything by half-hearted acceptance, and turned their disgust to the steaks. The meat was warm, and starting to brown after being in Count Olaf’s coat pocket for the past hour.
“He can have mine,” Klaus grimaced.
“Same,” Sunny agreed, regretting her part in tampering with perfectly good food.
“Guess it’s salads all around.” Violet nodded, holding the pack of steaks as far away from her as she led her siblings to the kitchen.
The siblings once again prepared a sustainable meal for themselves and their wayward guardian, basking in the quiet Olaf’s absence afforded. By this point, the early summer sun has left behind splotches of colors as it set for the day and the crickets were starting their evening serenade.
As the Baudelaires set four plates at the grand table and Count Olaf’s footsteps disturbed the raptors above, a strange sense of peace set over the room. The siblings were not afraid of their home. They were together and clothed properly, and they managed to mend holes in the surrounding walls and the man within them. It was far from perfect, but it was theirs.
And it had been Olaf who had called them a family.
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monsignorprxitt · 2 years
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@millliegunning
Their routine continued for almost five weeks. John limited how often he went out as much as he could. He’d managed to whittle it down to once a week, never on the same night and never hunting in the same part of the city. He had to keep every aspect as varied as possible; to make it harder to track, harder to tie the pieces together or link each death, and harder to find the bodies.
At some point, he’d stopped being hesitant to bring up when he had to go out. He’d become almost completely detached.
Their days were also spent the same way. With their nights so full, their days were quiet. They slept through most of the sun, but sometimes they would wake up. Sometimes he would read or watch sports on their little television. Sometimes Millie would knit or bake. Both of them would pray.
On this particular day, it was just after noon, and they were both sleeping. John stretched out on his back, with Millie and her growing bump curled against his side. He would have easily slept right through to dusk, if a knock at the door hadn’t interrupted them. He didn’t hear the first thuds, but he heard the second. They startled him awake, and his arm instinctively tightened around Millie.
No one should have been visiting. Sarah knew to stay away during the day, and they hadn’t ordered anything.
“There’s someone at the door,” John muttered, gently nudging Millie and trying to free his arm.
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don't you ever tame your demons (but always keep 'em on a leash)
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lovecolibri · 1 year
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Anyway,
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jtexplorer · 1 year
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diverse-hearts-ocs · 4 months
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@theircurse asked:
“ why do i smell smoke ? ” ( Garth )
WHAT DO YOU MEAN ?
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"OH GOD NO!" With a squeak he jumps to his feet and rushes into the kitchen, staring for a few seconds at the fire that's licking out from the oven, his fear only broken at the thought of the flames spreading, Garth grabbing hold of the nearby extinguisher and quickly spraying the oven - before falling to his knees with a heavy sigh. "...I thought I could at least heat it up without burning down the apartment...". Least the kitchen wasn't too damaged, though the area around the oven was now blackened with smoke, and the entire apartment was stinking of the burnt meat, the pets having rushed out onto the balcony for much needed air.
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emmetrain · 1 year
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Another young passenger,participating in their verrrrry first casual battles on the platform--as the battle subway usually informed them to take it easy before boarding onto the Single or Double Lines. No one wanted to lose. That was real. And early losses would sting more.
Emmet fumbles with the brim of his hat as he watches the battle, taking his break. Seeing Tepigs was not a rare occurrence, if one followed the tradition and partnered up with the dear professor to follow the rules. Still, it hurts. The happy cries stab through his heart, breathing gets harder. It felt even colder that day, as he pulls at his coat.
A part of him he will never get back. A friend who will wait for rescue, for reunion, to no avail.
Punishment for not staying on the tracks dictated to him by his "family". Even if he tried again and again to get his and Ingo's starters back, they were always held out of reach.
Was Pignite still waiting for the day it would get to see Emmet again?
That would make one of them, wouldn't it?
Early losses did sting more, it seems.
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heirscrchd · 1 month
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"What's rattling around up there?" [@waterxearthxfirexair, Lu Ten, maybe some point before BSS]
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A young Azula would try to stiffle her laugh as she clung onto the branch of the tree her cousin had walked over to. Having heard of the young Princess's rebellion against the dreaded nap time someone had to be sent to find her. Thankfully she wasn't too difficult to spot from how she poorly clung to the tree like a young sloth-bear.
" Hey! You're not supposed to see me, I'm hiding! " She'd giggle once more, picking an apple from the tree and throwing it down at him.
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div1nity · 9 months
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there are only two responses to gods , she noticed ; beg or bow . most reactions can be summed up between these states of existence , even she has experienced being on either end of the spectrum ; she runs , what is running if not a plea to be left alone  ?  she stays , listens , what is that if not accepting their gospel  ?   gods &. her don't mix well — yet she finds her arms crossed before him , swallowing down a lump of spit that collects in throat ; it feels like razor blades ,  the sharpness slowly sliding down flesh as fingertips dig deep into arms .  it's her pride , begging to be held , to stand ground ; yet for some unknown reason , coraline finds herself slipping .
maybe because after everything , she's after a god that can speak to her on even ground ; though there's already the faint expectation of a coded message that would send alan turing into a coma . lips pressed together , overwhelmed ; needing answers . she's emotional  &.  despite trying to keep tone even , it wavers , trembles , feeling like an earthquake in the back of her throat  &.  for a single moment , she’s transported to her eleven year old self fighting to stay alive in the other world ; scar burns around arm like it's wrapped in lava ; feeling the needles prodding deep into skin with little regard for her life ; the brown eyes once born with are gone , ripped away , left to deal with a reflection in the mirror no longer recognised . 
feeling like eve after taking the bite of that apple ; exposed , vulnerable . the question that has burned in mind for as long as she remembers if finally asked ; her skin has been peeled back , why not cave  ? for once , she'll allow herself to feel like flesh &. bone , nothing else . a human staring up at something far more powerful , secretly desperate for some sort of direction . 
 ❛  will i ever figure it out ?  ❜
𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 .  @friendscfmine / GOD & CORALINE ​​​​​.
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arachnidiots-a · 8 months
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i may not be an hs enjoyer but i cannot deny that matilda is the most liam kaz song—
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supager · 1 year
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@arxchnoverture asked:
“ woah, woah, woah… slow it down a few miles, huh? what’s going on? where’s the fire? “
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he actually stopped from taking off when mary told him, but mostly because she hit the nail on the head with her question. there in fact was a fire and freddy was going to be the first on the scene to save as many as he could.
"downtown actually, you're welcomed to join me if you want, but i'm going to be there first!" and with that, he took off without another word.
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countessviolet · 5 months
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Family on Fire - Ch. 2 - Drunk!Olaf alert
"Y...yes!" Klaus rejoiced as he counted out the 65-point word his play in Scrabble awarded him.
Violet groaned, not bothering to think what her letters could do for her. There was no way she or Sunny could catch up to him now.
"LUPUS. I can't believe it," she muttered. "Count on the guy who read through the dictionary twice to come up with that."
Klaus shrugged, picking up the faux silk bag to collect new tiles, frowning at its light weight.
"Where are..."
Violet grinned mischievously as a light crunch came from their left.
"Sunny!" Klaus gasped. Violet chuckled as her baby sister reluctantly spat out an 'L' and an 'E', a fresh tooth mark smiling back at him.
"Sorry, they tasted like chicken," Sunny babbled.
"Ugh," the young scholar complained as he wiped the tiles clean. "Well, at least it matches the board now."
Violet laughed, helping her brother and sister put the game away.
Saturday evenings were, oddly, calm in Count Olaf's home. Being that the Baudelaires used the day to finish the few chores they couldn't keep up during the week, and cook for that night and Sunday night if they had the time. With Count Olaf and his troupe at play practice or some other strange, often bordering on illegal occurrence the Baudelaires didn't care to know the details about, this left the majority of the day at their disposal. Violet would work on a new invention to make their lives easier, Klaus would study in the library while Sunny looked through recipe books on loan from Justice Strauss's library. 
And, guiltily, it granted them a few hours without Count Olaf. The Baudelaires had grown used to Olaf's presence in their lives, and it was fair to admit the siblings had learned a few things, more about human nature than theatre more often than not. Still, it was nice for the Baudelaires to engage in their former hobbies and activities, pretend they were the same children they were before the fire. 
It wasn't easy to do such things with Count Olaf lurking about. Sure, the momentary ceasefire didn't make up the other six days of utter chaos they endured, but it was a much-anticipated reprieve the Baudelaires reveled in.
"So you two want to  - "
Any further plans the Baudelaires may have had were immediately off the table at the sound of Count Olaf's car screeching to a grating halt in the driveway.
"Uh oh," Sunny babbled.
"Yeah, he's back early," Klaus agreed. It was barely past 10 o'clock, he noticed with a glance at the giant clock in the living room. Yes, that was way too early.
Still, the chorus of Olaf's troupe rang from the sputtering car outside, their toon out of sync and saturated with cheap and probably unpaid for liquor.
"Oh no," Klaus groaned as he and his sisters peeked out the living room window. "They are drunk."
Violet winced as the troupe member of indeterminate gender swayed into the mailbox, the bald man glancing back long enough to grab them by the ankle and drag them up the pathway. Count Olaf lingered by the car, leaning against the hood in a way that meant he was the one who drove them back but should not have been the one to do so.
"Okay," she breathed. "We can do this."
"We've done it before," Klaus shuddered.
"Too many times," Sunny babbled.
"Right," Klaus said as he placed Sunny to her feet. "Sunny, go make as much coffee as you can. And I think there are some sandwiches left in the refrigerator."
"Toppy," Sunny babbled, which meant something along the lines of: "I know what's in my kitchen, thanks."
Violet was already tying up her hair when Klaus joined her in the entryway. They could hear the troupe's caterwauling grow louder the closer they got. Klaus was already poised at the door, ready to let the personified chaos hoard in.
The doorknob shook as the troupe struggled to enter, finding the situation much more humorous than it was.
Klaus took a deep breath, gripping the elaborate door handle with a sweaty palm.
"Ready?"
Violet gulped. "No, but..." 
"Yep..." With that, Klaus grabbed the door handle and yanked - just missing the hook-handed man's hook.
"Oh!" he laughed, patting Klaus' hair. "Sorry youuuuu!"
Klaus swatted away the cackling man's hooks and then the other troupe members grazed as they pushed and pet him.
"Great Scott, they're completely inebriated!" Klaus called to his sister as she ran ahead of the troupe, moving some of the more breakable items of Count Olaf's hoard out of their path. 
The Baudelaires developed this system early in their arrival. Following the predictable moves of Olaf and the parade of drunks and how those steps intertwined with the placement of the count's things helped them protect said things from damage, not to mention Olaf's misplaced blame the following morning.
"I swear I will have to drain your fortune when I get my hands on it just to replace all the damage you orphans have caused!" he often bellowed the morning after a craze as Violet, Klaus and Sunny, on their hands and knees, picked up and swept away broken glass and porcelain. 
"You and your troupe did this!" Klaus groaned for the hundredth time in his and his sisters' defense.
"Besides, you can't charge us since you stole half of this  -"
"Zip it!"
Anyway, it was one less chore to do the next morning. And so far, their well-choreographed operation was working brilliantly. 
Klaus wiped his brow as he and Violet finished subliminally leading the troupe members to the living room to sober up. There were throw pillows all about the living room as Count Olaf's troupe began to drop left and right, their most vulnerable body parts protected from the corners of dangerous furniture pieces. Sunny was pushing a rickety metal cart with strong coffee and sandwiches of various combinations to them, quickly moving away as the drunks swarmed on the food. 
Violet sighed tiredly but nodded with satisfaction. "That went great."
"Surprisingly great," Klaus said, looking around the room before grimacing. "Too great. Where's Olaf?"
Violet tensed as she looked around the foyer for their wayward guardian. Usually not seeking Count Olaf lingering about the first floor, watching their every move, mocking their grief or their inability to complete some of his more obscene chores. But with his troupe here and he very obviously not, certainly something was amiss.
"Sunny, watch them for a minute, okay?"
"Caup!" Sunny scolded, her babble coming out to, "Oh great, thanks!"
Violet and Klaus carefully looked around the foyer and dining room just in case he'd taken a detour or passed out somewhere. Klaus jogged outside to check the car, pausing at the sight of the obscure car's wide-open driver door. All the lights were on as well, the cloudy headlights glaring two orange beams into the neighborhood. The young scholar gulped, looking into the dark night and hoping nothing was out there. 
A light yelp nearly made Klaus, figuratively and literally, jump out of his skin. He was back in the foyer in five very long struts.
"Violet what's..." He followed the hand that wasn't clutched over Violet's chest to the staircase where Count
Olaf was curled into a very tight ball, clutching at the ragged staircase fabric as if the weary threads would keep him in place. 
"What..."
"I don't know," Violet gasped. "I checked to see if he came through the back door and he was here when I got back."
The siblings dared stepped closer, trying to access Count Olaf's state in the limited stairway light.
"Look," Klaus pointed at Olaf's forehead.
"He's bleeding," Violet observed before turning her frown to Klaus. "We've never had to carry him upstairs
before."
"What's that thing dad used to say?" Klaus mused. "There's a first time for everything?"
Violet chuckled fondly. "I guess this is that first."
Klaus shrugged, rolling up his sleeves to the elbow as he tried to assess how to touch him without...touching...him.  
Violet shrugged, very much on the same page with her brother. She tentatively grabbed at Olaf's coat sleeve, testing the cloths' strength.
"Maybe we could - " 
Violet never finished that thought. It wouldn't be her who solved the dilemma of getting Count Olaf to bed at all. All ideas froze inside the young inventor's head when Olaf suddenly sprang up and grabbed her wrist, yanking her down hard to his level on the stairs.
"You!" Olaf snarled, his breath so heavy with liquor Violet's began to water, but it was the terror she felt from him suddenly grabbing her that caused them to spill down her cheeks. Despite living in his home for months and having what she thought was every insult, every bit of hate he stored in his body thrown their way, he had never looked at them the way he was now. Like he wanted nothing more than to watch them die.
With his glare resting solely on her, it was like all that rage and hate seeping off him was directed at Violet.
And Violet felt devoured by it. 
"You killed him! Why Bea? Why would you..."
His words began to jumble together as exhaustion began to take hold of him. Klaus used the opportunity to unravel Olaf's fingers from Violet's arm and pulled her free.
"You okay?" Klaus inquired as he looked Violet over, gently grazing over where Olaf had grabbed her, the patch of skin was red and warm from his grip.
Violet nodded, daring to look at the mysterious, unconscious man on the stairs.They watched in astonishment as he twitched about, muttering strange words and names neither Baudelaire could quite make out. He began to still a few moments later, but his fingers continued to flex at a space on the stair just above his head.
This time it was Klaus who reached out to test the consciousness of the count. Olaf retaliated once more, but it was a much weaker attempt and mainly consisted of hissing, of all things. 
"Just...move," Klaus growled as he pulled on Olaf's arms.
"No," Count Olaf groaned out suddenly, the word leaving his throat sharp and alarmed. "Don't move me! I want to stay with him!"
"Him?" Klaus muttered, looking at the space of stairs Olaf was clutching at. "Stay with who? There's no one here."
"He..." Olaf sputtered off, slipping into unconsciousness as the alcohol finally finished seeping into his bones. 
Klaus and Violet looked at each other with concern as Olaf snored unevenly. Neither thought their guardian could conjure anything but bitterness and sarcasm. Unfortunately, they were very wrong.
"Here," Klaus instructed, taking one of Olaf's arms and throwing it over his shoulder. After making sure Olaf was still very unconscious, Violet followed suit, and other than the strange angle the siblings had to walk in to get up the staircase, she and Klaus got Olaf to bed with little trouble. Klaus situated the count on his stomach while Violet pulled off his jacket. She wanted him to be somewhat comfortable but blushed at the idea of taking off his belt - and grimaced at the idea of touching his shoes. 
"He's fine," Klaus said, nose wrinkled. "He can undress himself when he wakes up."
Violet nodded, quickly grabbing a glass off his dresser and filling it with water from the connected bathroom as Klaus covered him, checking his breathing once more. He watched how Violet lingered next to him for a moment longer but turned to follow her brother, eyes cast down.
Klaus closed the door after her, sighing tiredly as they went downstairs to join their youngest sister.  Sunny was sitting on the edge of the dining room table, the members of Olaf's troupe snoring in the places they passed out in. Sunny had not through and covered each of them with whatever blanket or covering they had.
"Great job," Violet said as she picked her up. Sunny shrugged as she yawned and rubbed her face. 
The siblings turned off any light they saw as they dropped the coffee things in the sink to deal with in the morning. They shared a groan at the mention of tomorrow, of the messes and the strange schemes that only got them into trouble.
Klaus turned to comment on the matter to Violet but found her gazing at the darkened door at the end of the hall. 
"Bea? Do you he was talking about Mom?" she inquired softly.
Their mother's nickname weighed heavily in the hall, somehow tainted not just from being spoken in the thick, dusty air. Klaus wanted to answer her, wanted to bring up good, loving memories of their mother. But all he could think about was the sheer hate in Count Olaf's voice when he said her name and the bruise forming on Violet's arm. He didn't want to think of what strange way that man wanted to sully his mother's name.
"Don't let him get to you, Vi," Klaus whispered. "He's a lush. Nothing he says makes sense."
Violet shrugged. "It's very specific, don't you think?"
Klaus hummed as he turned on his bedside table. "He knew our parents. We knew that already."
"Hard stuff?" Sunny guessed. 
"Yeah," Violet muttered, unsatisfied but too tired to prod the issue much further.
The siblings tucked themselves in and turned the lights out, sparing no further thoughts to the strange man at the end of the hall or the other unanswered questions that seemed to slip further and further into obscurity.  
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pulchramsolis · 1 year
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continued from here because new blog! @dragynfire
"Oh, Helaena," she sighs, both relieved and frustrated at everything. There was little she'd be able to hide from her childhood friend. The opportunity to bring the princess comfort, and the openess that she would not be judged or ridiculed, made her proud that she could be that. Helaena in turn was a balm, a friendly ear, a sweetheart of the highest order.
Abrogail picks up the princess' embroidery, and runs her fingers over the beautiful blue butterfly that she's been crafting. "I fear what will happen in the coming days. Weeks. With the King taking ill again..." She pinches her mouth together and avoids Helaena's purple gaze to look towards the window. "I worry. I worry that there's nothing I can do to help mitigate whatever disaster is about to befall us all and worse, that I don't know how I can protect you, or your brothers, or the children." The ones that Abrogail cared for the most. "It scares me. I don't want to lose anyone else. I cannot lose anyone else."
She looks back at Helaena, her river blue eyes bright with the passion of her fear that had festered and had grown by leaps and bounds over the past few days. She did not like this helpless feeling - a noose around her neck for all the good it did her. It only served to fray her nerves of trepidation as to when the floor would give way. "There must be something we can do, that I can do, anyone could do if not stave it off-" and that would never happen. "Then hopefully mitigate it."
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it's that time again!
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...this is what we we're celebrating, right?
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countarganan · 2 years
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@fellstarsirius
“So?” Lu was holding Loreto close to him as he approached his beloved. “Loreto has a gift for you.”
Loreto smiled, offering Sothis a pretty, shiny rock. “I found it by the lake and thought of you!”
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peach-arcade · 2 years
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Tag Dump! - Taking you two down with me get the f.ck back here,--
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Minor tag dump, if you know, you know. No, I will not be trying to explain in-depth and I’m fully blaming this madness on @goldenpathtotheheavens​ and @sharpshooternomoremoxxie​, respectively.
I haven’t even made blacklight-shadows fully yet and yet you two are dragging Blacklight straight into the open, for shame.
Reflect and reconcile/so much harder than you think/we’ll make this work/you and me | Shadowpeach Theme: None decided. Ship tag for my Wukong and my Macaque, on peach-arcade and blacklight-shadows respectively.
Dancing on stardust/where no one can ever stop us | Eclipsed Arcades Theme: None decided. Ship tag for peach-arcade’s Wukong, Writer, and blacklight-shadow’s Macaque.
Follow me/take my hand/sailing the same course/wild and free/waves and sand/what’re we waiting for? | Neon Shadows and Arcade Lightshows Theme: What Are We Waiting For Ship tag for the insane polycule that arose thanks to my Discord server, Wukong x Syntax x Writer x Macaque. From peach-arcade, neon-poison, and blacklight-shadows respectively.
Successor of the shadows/inner darkness never fathomed/friend from another time/chaos forever on the mind | goldenpathtotheheavens/Mike
Descendant of my friend/ring of fire without end/daughter of fire/of ash/of ends | goldenpathtotheheavens/Mei
I’ll do better (this I swear)/so you never have reason to fear | goldenpathtotheheavens/Guanyin/Lotus
These scars won’t define you/rise above the Hell that made you | sharpshooternomoremoxxie/Moxxie Devoe
A massive family/with a heart for all/don’t count us out/unless you’re ready to fall | Arcade Family Verse The tag used for the giant family AU I’ve kinda-joked about kinda-developed with Ducky and S-Mun, respectively!
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