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mr-mentally-ill · 2 years ago

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Is Mr Poe an ex vfd volunteer?

We know that the baudelaire parents threw parties with very specific friend(s), Poe being one of them. All other friend(s) of the baudelaire parents are implied/stated to be ex/current vfd volunteers. Why would they be friend with just a random banker?

Adding on to this, Poe is always there when misfortune falls onto the baudelaire children. As if his presence there causes it. What if it actually did?

Think about it, what startles the baudelaires that leads to Dewey Denoument's death? Poe. Who gets Jacques Snicket arrested and killed? Poe. He is always there.

Who gets the news first? Poe. Who tells the baudelaires about the fire? Poe.

Adding on to @femmefatalegoth Poe is a villain theory, if he wasn't an ex-volunteer, why else would he insist on never listening to the baudelaires? He only listens when indisputable evidence is shown.

Mr Poe gets treated horribly by Olaf when they 'meet', yet he speaks of the count kindly while talking to the children.

If he was an ex-volunteer– he must've left vfd. Why, you may ask, would he have a reason to leave vfd as a volunteer? Easy.

His children. To protect them from vfd recruitment.

Also, what reason would he have to be at the Vile Village? He says he's "running with this crowd!" A vague answer. Likewise, he's familiar with the rules of the VFD village— an old vfd station.

This all makes sense if Poe is an ex-volunteer. Why he knows so much about the baudelaires personal lives? He knew their parents very personally.

A cause for his cough? One theory from popsugar.com suggests it could be from fires he might've helped set. Another personal theory of mine is that it could be to do with the medusiod mycelium. We know it makes you cough a lot as by what happens to Sunny when she ingests it.

Could a younger vfd volunteer Poe be on a mission when he was exposed to the medusiod?

In both the book and the show, one of the lines in "The End" is "at this time Mr. Poe was better known as his stage name" suggesting that he was an actor at some point. Acting is a profession that a lot of vfd volunteer take on.

It is also stated that the baudelaire(s) smell smoke around figuratively (and sometimes literally).

We know that sometimes ex-volunteers that join the 'evil' side of the schism will put on a dumb act as to not be caught. Could this be why Poe is always so stupid?

Anyways.. thats just my two cents!

#asoue #im gay and tired #mr poe #asoue mr poe #count olaf #vfd #violet baudelaire #klaus baudelaire #sunny baudelaire #volunteer fire department #a series of unfortunate events #asoue theory #a series of unfortunate events theory

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countessviolet · 8 months ago

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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.

#a series of unfortunate events #asoue #asoue fic #violet baudelaire #klaus baudelaire #sunny baudelaire #count olaf #family on fire verse

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