#had so much fun thinking about it

[when-we-drive-away-in-secret]

alright, so this is a question about netflix series which i've recently watched and now i'm suffering from asoue brainrot. there is an obscure moment in the penultimate peril (s3ep6) where frank locks olaf in the closet before the trial, and just as frank is about to close the door, olaf says, "one last thing", as if intending to say something. what do you think he wanted to add? is it something that is maybe more clear in the books?

OKAY so after rewatching that scene (several times) and rereading the corresponding scene in the book, I now feel at least partially equipped to answer this question! (But please bear with me because my research did send me on a bit of a tangent)

So first off, I don't think dealing with the book scene will be of too much help here (although not entirely unhelpful, either), because, as much as I love the netflix adaptation—and I do wholeheartedly adore it—it changes so much that the comparable scene is functionally unrecognisable in several key aspects. The main one being the lack of hostility towards to Baudelaires—Olaf is solidly isolated and supposedly running out of options at this point in the show, whereas his mentality in the books is entirely different because things appear to be going much more his way. He has a crowd at his back and the Baudelaires are seen as far more guilty, which doesn't really translate into the show!verse at all.

So, if we're looking at the show from a more isolated standpoint, I had to consider the possibility that it was a deliberate "what if" moment, without having anything else planned to say, purely for the purpose of getting in the Baudelaires' heads. However, I do feel like the most likely answer is that Olaf did in fact believe he would be heard out, so that's what we'll be assuming from here on out.

The fact that the Denouement in question calls him "buddy" and yet treats him roughly could have made him believe that this is Ernest playing the long con—pretending to be an ally to the others because they were outnumbered at the time, or simply for his own ends. However, he could also genuinely believe that it's Frank, and that he'd be heard out because it's the "noble" thing to do—VFD and the general society in the snicketverse is routinely governed by politeness over logic, and so cutting him off is simply impolite, so he may have believed he'd be able to talk his way out of being locked up. The use of "buddy" could be a generic, positive moniker used by Frank, or a genuine sentiment expressed by Ernest; the rough shake of his arm could be simply how Ernest behaves on any given day, or genuine righteous anger from Frank—just as it's impossible for us as the audience to be sure, Olaf has to try and figure this out in mere moments.

Regardless of what he thought would happen or who he thought he was talking to, though, I have to believe that whatever he was going to say would have been targeted more at the Baudelaires than the Denouement currently getting in his way, so it would likely have been an extension of what he'd already said, and what he'd go on to say at key moments for the remainder of the series—another attack on the Baudelaire parents, a critique of VFD's intentions, or something equally ambiguous to sow the seeds of mistrust in the minds of the children. Despite his general demeanour, he is actually a terrifyingly capable villain, and the human embodiment of the "either I'm god, or truth is relative" soundbite. If he's allowed to talk for long enough, he can convince just about anyone of anything (which is exactly what happens when he takes the stand during the trial), and I wouldn't be surprised if he was expecting to be allowed to run his mouth until both the adults are on his side.

What I think is a very interesting point to consider, though, is one useful comparison from the books—the number of the room he's sent to. As we all know, the rooms in the Hotel Denouement are arranged according to the Dewey Decimal System, and people are categorised above just as the records are categorised below. In the book, the Baudelaires are confined to room 121, and Olaf is locked in room 165 to await their trial. In the Dewey Decimal System, 121 refers to Epistemology—the theory of knowledge. A quote taken from the wikipedia page for epistemology reads:

Epistemology asks questions such as: "What is knowledge?", "How is knowledge acquired?", and "What do people know?"

Having the Baudelaires placed here shows that they aren't sure what people know about them, or what will be revealed at the trial, or what will happen to them (as clearly illustrated by the their conversation at the end of chapter ten). Olaf, however, is placed in room 165: Fallacies and Sources of Error. This could imply that he's in the wrong, but perhaps more likely foreshadows that other people are wrong about him. He will not go to prison, he will not be convicted, and, perhaps most crucially, he is not as completely evil as the Baudelaires believe. He has done terrible things, and he is a terrible person, but—as discussed during The End—they are wrong about the most crucial of his evil deeds (to them). Because he didn't kill their parents. He represents everything that VFD pretends it isn't, but at this point the Baudelaires believe (and have been told) that he is the complete antithesis of what the Volunteers represent—and so, he is categorised as a source of error.

However, in the show, both parties are placed in entirely different rooms, and therefore entirely different categorisations. The Baudelaires are placed in room 342: Constitutional and Administitive Law. This is a choice I absolutely adore, because at this point in the narrative they are quite literally trapped in bureaucracy. They fail because the system is rigged, and they are literally imprisoned by the law—not in the sense that they have already been convicted, but in the sense that they will be no matter what they do. If they stay, the High Court will pronounce them guilty. But, when they run, they're supposedly only proving their own guilt—damned if they don't, and damned if they do.

Olaf's is perhaps the more interesting change, though, because he's no longer seen as a source of error—despite the claims he makes about the Baudelaire parents and VFD immediately before being locked up (once again implying that he isn't lying to them, just using convenient truths). And it carries through to the trial, because he uses the truth (albeit a very deliberately and pointedly edited version) to make the Baudelaires seem just as guilty as he is. In the show, he's placed in room 170: Ethics (moral philosophy). And he is given the chance to talk at the trial, and talk he does. He twists the truth, spins it so that the Baudelaires seem guilty, but that is the exact point of moral debate! He trolley-problemed his way into screwing with the Baudelaires' heads, not because he needed to (he knew he was never getting convicted, because he knew who was on the High Court), but to prove a goddamn point. Yes, he's done terrible things, but did anyone think to ask him why? Of course, to us, the reader, the viewer, the third party observer, it doesn't matter. Because at a certain point, actions speak for themselves. Reasons can explain, but not necessarily excuse—that is the reasonable stance to take, and no matter his reasons, the explanation will never be an excuse for him.

But he's an actor. That's why Klaus calls him up to the stand in the trial, because he knows he'll want to talk in front of an audience, and can't imagine any way he wouldn't incriminate himself. And despite the Baudelaires' personal opinions of his ability, we've seen time and time again that he must be a good actor, because people always believe his performances. And as any good actor could tell you, it's crucial to be able to read your audience. If you want the best reaction, then you need to work out, as quickly as humanly possible, how they'll respond, and play up or tone down your performance accordingly. And he's spent so much time with VFD, with the Baudelaires, that he knows just what to say. He knows that, regardless of their reasons, they will feel guilty—in both the book and the show, they question if they're not just as bad as him! They did what they did to survive, and they genuinely worry that they're the same as the murderous, fortune-hungry beast that's been hunting them through their grief and fear. And he knows that. He wants to get in their heads, maybe just for fun, but mostly to get them to come to him. And the worst part is that it bloody works! They end up escaping with him, burning the hotel and potentially letting him out into the world, turning away from the good-hearted people trying to help them because if they can't trust anyone to be on their side, at least they can trust him not to be.

All this to say that, looking at his character, the writing of the show and the way the events unfold, while I can't give you a verbatim quote of what I think he would have said, I will say this: I wholeheartedly believe it would have been a short, targeted line to the Baudelaires, attacking them, their belief system, their very moral character. Because he didn't know he'd be allowed to speak at the trial—remember, it was only Klaus' fear and paranoia that put him on the stand in the first place—and as far as he knew, that could have been his last chance to ensure they'd come to him. He wasn't sure his previous words had been enough, and we all know he has a flair for the dramatic. Think back to one of the most chilling moments of the entire series, both in the book and show, at the end of the Bad Beginning. When the lights go out and he makes his escape, the Baudelaires would have still lived in fear of him, knowing he was on the loose, but that wasn't enough. He risked capture, risked losing his window of escape, all to torment Violet one last time; to plant that final seed of paranoia and fear into her mind, to whisper threats in the dark. And I have no doubt that, had he been given the chance, that is precisely what he would have done here.

By cutting him off, the Denouement gave the Baudelaires hope; hope that it might be different, hope that people wouldn't listen to him this time. But after all they'd been through, they couldn't risk not letting him talk—everyone always listens to him, in the end, and they had to make sure that everyone would finally believe them instead. And that very act of cutting him off, of not letting him give that final threat, is perhaps what sealed their fates. If Olaf's threat was fresh in their minds, they might have been too fearful to address him. If, like in the books, he'd eluded to his acquaintance with the High Court, they might have known what would happen. But he didn't get the chance, and neither did they.

[forgettable-au]

FORGETTABLE-AU (page 82-85)

THAT LAZYBONES!!

[BEGINNING] [PREVIOUS] [CONTINUE]

[soldrawss]

Part 2 finally! Part 3 to come soonish,,,

You can find part 1 here!

[mayaskribbles]

happy birthday, little brother

[addamii]

Harrow and Nona my girls forever. Close ups and notes under the cut

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy Birthday to Fallen London; My favourite British people beefing it with bats simulator.

[notherpuppet]

This is my favorite hobby~♥️

As long as I’m still interested in the things I make, then I’ll still share whatever I draw into this space :)

It’s nice to have other folks interested in the stuff I create because it’s exciting and fun to chitchat about it. But that’s all just bonus. I’m gonna make whatever I want whenever I want, no matter if others are interested in it or not lol

[clowns0up-felix]

Stumbles through the door confused and dazed ,, I ,,,, I like cowboys a lot

Which means Jayvik Cowboy AU okayyy ,,,,,I have like 15 million jayvik wips but this is the only thing I managed to finish.. I like cowboys I dunno

[hootyhoowoo]

A little 15 min doodle but first post of the year has to be Bingqiu!

[laddersmp3]

Oh my god they touched

[buttercupshands]

So.

Act 5, huh?

Oh, and that.

"You can start breakdown now."

Finished the game couple of days ago and had some thoughts I needed to process a little. Like. Yes.

So anyway I actually didn't plan this and just wanted to redraw some sprites to just make sure I understand how to draw Siffrin correctly (still working on that!)

What did I learn from this? How fun it it to draw on a canvas that literally doesn't let you draw with colors without some layer cheating when necessary. Never tried it.

The beans. Sleeping beans.

Basically what happens when you want to sleep AND draw. Draw characters sleeping on your behalf.

Doesn't help, but at least it's cute.

I have no idea what was going on in my mind as I drew this. Feels like a fever dream of 'I want to sleep' at 4 am and 'Hm...' of thinking random things

Also that phone craft sign. Still too funny to imagine. I had to.

[hychlorions]

a what-if i've been thinking about for forever... trucy knowing the truth before anyone could tell her

[starry-bi-sky]

im dedicating this to @detectivedarling. i felt inspired after seeing their little ficlet yesterday sadhjfl 🫶

-

Danny's grip on his cane tightens.

"What—"

His voice cracks. He stops, clears it, then tries again in spite of the nausea twisting in his gut. "What are — you, uh, watching, Bruce?" He sounds horribly far away.

Bruce doesn't look at him, his attention laser-focused on the screen. Which is— fine. It's usually not a problem, Bruce gets like that when he hyper-focuses on a case, and unless it's urgent — or he's been at it for hours — Danny sees no need to pull him away from it. He likes the quiet camaraderie they have, it's companionable and unique to the two of them.

He wishes he was right now though. Looking at him, that is.

That way he wasn't watching what was clearly one of Danny's ghost fights. One of the nastier ones, if the collateral damage and rubble on the street is of any indication.

Danny tries to remember which one that is. He shuffles a little closer to the desk, ignoring the rock in his stomach or the ugly weightlessness in his arms. It's not the blood blossoms, that much he knows. He just recently had an injection so it shouldn't be bothering him this soon—

So it's just nerves. Perfect.

Most footage of his fights are— messy, at best. Unusable at worst. Amity Park was obsessed with appearing 'normal' when they first started happening, and typical news stations censor the worst of the fights anyways for publishing, since they can get pretty gory at times. And ghosts move too fast to be caught on regular standard cameras, not including distance and light and—

That is to say— finding usable ghost fight videos is hard.

Danny wonders how Bruce got his hands on this one, and then stops wondering.

The audio is muted, which is - good. Good, because the fight is ugly and chaotic and clearly this was taken on someone's phone. Fuck, he can't remember if he ever saw that before — clearly not. They're hiding behind an overturned car, and Danny grits his teeth so he doesn't tell that idiot to run.

The camera turns up, and focuses on two figures in the air. It takes a few seconds, but when it does, Danny gets hit with a wave of vertigo. His grip tightens and he leans heavily on his cane, he waits for the black dots to disappear.

He- uh, he remembers this fight now. Uh, sort of.

He remembers being twelve at the time, and he remembers some of the injuries he got out of it. His eyelid spasms abruptly. This ghost wasn't one of his regulars, so he doesn't remember whatever name they had, barely remembered what they looked like up until- uh. Now.

Was he always that small? Well— Phantom's never been particularly big, perks of being a dead kid, but— it's - different. Seeing it from an outsider perspective. Was he that small? Or is it just because he's wearing a jumpsuit clearly too big for him that casts the illusion of being small?

Doesn't really - matter. Now. He can't access his ghost form, and he already knows the answers to his appearance.

Phantom is clearly bleeding, viscous and violently green like the bubbles of a lava lamp, clutching onto a limp shoulder that's missing an arm from the elbow down. Half his face is drenched in similar blood, the eye on the drenched side is closed — not because he can't see through the ectoplasm.

Danny's memories of that fight slowly come in a bit clearer. Right. He took a pole to the eye in that one. That had - hurt. A lot. Getting an eye gouged out usually does. It and the missing arm took hours to grow back.

He rubs his eye with his palm for no other reason than it itches.

The other ghost isn't untouched of any injury either, but he's not in a state of dismemberment like Phantom is.

Danny drops his gaze down at Bruce, whose sitting in his chair with his hands threaded together, looking so tense that Danny half expects to meet solid steel if he were to touch his back. His face is - blank. Terribly blank, with an intensity in his eyes that Danny doesn't see often.

He looks terribly distressed.

He opens his mouth, and finds that nothing comes out. His throat is thick with an ugly, tar-like feeling that makes his eyes sting. Kinda reminds him of when someone wraps their hands around your throat and presses. He closes his mouth, then tries again.

"B—" hhhhhh, "Buzz."

Finally Bruce looks at him, one hand slaps the space button on the keyboard, and the video pauses. His expression doesn't shift, but there's a weight in the lines of his face that reminds Danny of a set of weights sagging.

He looks quite like he's grieving something.

Bruce opens his mouth, his voice comes out terribly soft and heartbroken: "He looks like you."

Which is— a terrifying sentence in and of itself. One that makes Danny's legs shake and ignite his ragged, poison-chewed nerves alight with the need to run. An instinctive urge to deny, deny, deny.

How could he? He could say, that's a ghost, Bruce. I'm not a ghost. He could crack a joke, and ask, 'do I look dead to you?' or say something about how he knows that his parents studied ghosts, but that didn't make him one.

He could say that, and he could say it knowing full well that Bruce would see right through it. He'd probably let Danny too.

Danny closes his eyes. They sting, you see? So does his nose, right in the back like someone popped him in the face. And his throat is thick and gross and like someone stuck a spider, the big fat tarantula kind, right down into his esophagus.

He breathes in — through his mouth, because his nose stings and so it'd be best not to irritate it further with air — and it's terribly shaky and uneven. But it clears a pathway to his lungs big enough for him to say — whisper, really:

"You know, I think you're the first person to notice that."

[hajimedics]

been thinking about kid/teenage peri and the power he holds

[wasyago]

the brainrot won

[vaguely-concerned]

the fact that irving canonically survives through the end of asunder to be at wynne's funeral is so fucking funny to me. nothing but love and respect for MY unstoppable cockroach morally grey machiavellian mage dad!!! he's survived in his position through multiple attempted rites of annulment and blood mage plots popping up left right and center around him. the chantry keeps trying to stamp him out but his dodge game is simply out of this world, divine. civil wars, political machinations and minefields, chantry atrocities, this wily old motherfucker is dodging and weaving his way through it all, not-quite-no-hits-taken-running-it-but-honestly-close-enough-under-the-circumstances style. if solas does succeed in tearing down the veil I would fully believe that one of the like three people still alive at the end of it all would be a very weary 90 year old first enchanter irving going 'oh this shit again huh'. the maker has cursed him for his hubris and his paperwork is never finished (affectionate, it's fine he canonically loves paperwork)