#i almost cried when hal died

[priestofberath]

2001 a space odyssey was fucking insane. I have no idea what the hell just happened. Dude looks like a baby. daa daa dude looks like a baby

[ghost-town-story]

Get Me for the writing prompts!

Sath would never admit it out loud, but at times like these, when Hal and Ri were asleep and Sath was alone with only the fire to keep her company, she was almost afraid of the labyrinth. It was the silence that unnerved her the most; no animals moving just out of sight, no river or stream tumbling nearby, not even the whisper of a breeze to disturb the leaves. Just her own breathing, and Hal's, and Ri's, and the crackle of the fire as it died.

And then, somewhere nearby, somebody screamed.

Sath bolted upright, reaching for her sword. Neither Hal nor Ri stirred, and she made a face at them before facing the darkness at the edge of their little camp.

"Sath!"

Sath's breath caught in her throat. That was unmistakably one of her sisters, though she could never tell them apart by voice alone. "Songbirds?"

"Sath, help!"

Sath glanced at her friends. She should wake them up so they could help her. But Sath didn't know what danger her sisters had gotten themselves into, and by the time she explained it all, it could be too late.

Sath stood and ran towards the sound of her sisters' voices .

The darkness seemed to swallow her as she rounded the corner, losing sight of the fire. Sath gritted her teeth and kept going, blinking rapidly to try and adjust to the dim moonlight. Her sisters' cries were the only sort of landmark she had, growing nearer with every turn Sath took.

Finally, Sath turned what she thought was the last corner and slowed to a stop, listening intently as she peered through the darkness. The path in front of her appeared empty in the faint moonlight, though she thought she could glimpse something moving deep in the shadows.

Unease wormed its way into her mind. Something felt wrong.

"Songbirds?" she asked.

Something glinted in the moonlight, a flash of white amongst the shadows. "Sath, help!" echoed from their depths.

Understanding dawned, quickly chased by hot fury. "How dare you?" Sath hissed, drawing her sword.

The shadowy creature rushed at Sath, darkness spilling across the ground like a river tumbling down its path. Sath swung her sword and stumbled as it met no resistance. The next moment, it slammed into her shoulder, pinning her to the ground. Her sword went flying from her grip, landing just out of reach.

A mouth opened amidst the shadows, teeth starkly white against the blackness. "Help," her sister's voice whimpered.

Sath hissed a curse and punched the creature. Her fist went straight through the shadows without a disturbance.

The creature loomed over her, mouth opening even wider--

and then it reeled back with a piercing scream as deep green flames exploded along its side.

Sath stared for a moment, mind racing to catch up to this turn of events.

Another burst of fire hit the creature. It stumbled away from Sath, screaming with a cacophony of voices.

Sath snapped out of her daze and scrambled to her feet, grabbing her sword. She risked taking her eyes off the burning shadows for a moment to see what was causing the flames.

The answer was Ri, standing at the corner leading back to their camp, another flame arrow already nocked to the string of their bow. They glanced at Sath in silent acknowledgement, then returned their focus to the shadow creature as they drew their bow, aimed, and fired. The arrow flew true, exploding into more of those green flames as it hit the center of the shadows.

The creature screeched one last time, then it turned and fled, the green flames dying as it disappeared down one of the paths. The silence it left behind felt almost deafening.

Sath turned to Ri, desperate to fill it. "How'd you know fire would hurt it?"

Ri shrugged, lowering their bow. "Lucky guess. Why did you go off on your own?"

Sath felt her cheeks burn at their reprimanding tone. "I thought it was one of the songbirds," she defended herself. "And Mama and Papa would kill me if they got hurt following me into danger."

"You should have woken us."

"I thought I didn't have time!"

"And that's how you end up getting killed." Ri slung their bow over their shoulder and stepped close. They took a lock of hair that had escaped Sath's hair tie and tucked it behind her ear. "Are you hurt?"

Her shoulder ached where the creature had slammed into her, but Sath had to admit the only lasting injury would be to her pride. "No. I'm fine."

"Good." Ri turned and started off. "Come on," they tossed over their shoulder. "We should get back before Halion wakes and finds us gone."

Sath sheathed her sword and ran to catch up. "Hey," she said, bumping her shoulder against Ri's. "Thanks. For saving me."

"Someody has to." There was just enough moonlight for Sath to see the grin on Ri's face before they sped up in a silent challenge.

[yonemurishiroku]

"Your sins cannot be justified, Hades' spawn."

The voice, laden heavily with threat, rumbled across the vast space, and Apollo had known exactly what was coming before his father even raised the eye-burning bolt.

"As the King of Olympus, I shall punish you," was Zeus' final judgment.

The gales screeched. Light flashes through the swirling clouds, so much colder, and harsher than Apollo's sun. With the thunderstorm at his whim, Zeus pointed a cruel hand toward the lonely demigod below him.

If Apollo wasn't terrified out of his mind, he would have praised Nico di Angelo for his commendable act of bravery as of right now, that is, to face the most powerful Olympian's devastating prowess with only a Stygian sword and barely a speck of fear. Alas, as Apollo could scarcely hold himself against the onslaught of cyclones and hail, the image of di Angelo - all lanky limbs, pale skin and scrawny, looking like he just crawled out of Hell itself, which he did - standing straight, head held high and eyes the reflection of calmness and madness alike had seared into his mind as more suicidal than courageous.

It was the type of fearlessness Apollo'd had the misery to learn about from Ares' stories of desperate soldiers. Something that would burn both them and their enemies alike until nothing remained.

And oh, does it burn---

The lightning smashed down like hammers. It split the ground apart as easily as it did clouds, leaving only scorching marks of what used to be greenery. Sounds of destruction overwhelmed all cries of fright among the campers and it took Apollo more than expected to shield them from the wayward zaps. Zeus spared no mercy. For a moment - too long, perhaps, - the world is bleached in white and dissolved into dust in the blinding light.

But - as Apollo had come to realize - Nico was everything but white.

Amidst Zeus' blinding light show, he was the inky black that spilled over the canvas and swallowed it all. Apollo watched, in both awe and apprehension, as the demigod swiped through the air with his sword, Stygian Iron drawing a single line of dark indigo and waves of thick, viscous darkness burst forth from its tip like a horror magic trick.

It was both an unnerving and glamorous sight. The darkness cascaded over Nico like a protective shield and every bolt colliding with it simply went out like a snuffed-out candle. The contrast was almost poetic. Apollo had never been one for darkness and gloom, but the sight reminded him of what humans usually set up for celebration these days - "fireworks", it was called. He thought it looked like the flowers that bloomed along Persephone's steps - a spurt of ephemeral colors, wilting away the moment she passed to become the Underworld's wealth.

Just like that, all of Zeus' blows didn't touch a single hair of Nico's. The demigod stood unscathed, looking up at Zeus with what looked too much like pity.

The thought frightened Apollo a little - A demigod? Taking pity on a god?

"Filthy demigod!" Zeus roared, naturally incensed, "What did you do?!"

Nico's eyes gleamed like silver under the moonlight. When he spoke, it didn't sound like the voice of a 16-year-old boy. "I've had enough," he whispered, disgust transparent in his gaze, "So keep your judgments to yourself."

What happened after that would go down in history, should Apollo have any say in it.

Before Zeus could launch another attack, it was Nico who first raised his sword, pointing straight at the hovering Lord of the Skies, and the darkness grew.

Like a beast opening up its massive jaws, it unfolded into a wall of seething blackness. Peals of laughter resounded through the air, high and shrill like a woman's. And then from the dark wall, right in front of his stunned eyes, light gushed out - sharp as a knife and quick like a wolf's strike. A bolt. Lightning.

A blink of an eye - Apollo caught the blue tail of the electric flash just moments before it grazed his father's ear, leaving only a hint of smoke.

The world seemed to halt for a second. Million of thoughts rushed through Apollo's mind. What just happened? Was it father's bolt?

Did he just... shadow-travel the bolts?

The storm rumbled. Nico didn't bulge.

Rage took over Zeus' features fast, but not faster than the next bolt. The god managed to block it with just a flick of his fingers, but the look of utter confusion on his face was just short of comical. Before he managed to explode, however, the rain of white, to both Apollo's and his father's absolute horror, returned at once, this time with Zeus as the target of demolition and Nico wielding the hilt, stabbing him with his own beloved weapon.

The world was once again thrown into disarray. "No way--- How can this be---" came Zeus' outrageous scream. The hint of bewilderment was undisguisable as he was forced to deflect the bolts continuously.

It all felt too much like a hallucination. Apollo briefly wondered if gods could get them too - because everything that was transpiring in front of him was simply beyond unbelievable: Nico di Angelo, son of Hades, outplaying King of Olympus, Lord of the Sky, with a weapon that definitely hadn't belonged to him until this very moment.

When the dust settled again and Apollo could finally watch the scene with proper brightness, the wall of darkness behind Nico had shrunk somewhat, now an ominous mist wrapping around him from above. Its shimmer appeared oddly as if someone laughing.

Zeus, on the other hand, sported a crazed look - crazier than he should have been, unfitting in his uptight and professional suit. Apollo wasn't fond of his father's paranoia but he knew - from the way Zeus' eyes wavered and the storm sounded like crying rather than raging - that whatever this was, it couldn't be good.

"Accursed son of Hades!! What did you do?!" The Lord thundered, furious.

Nico made no move, said nothing as the darkness glimmered. And then there was it again - that woman's laughter.

"Now, now, that was no way to welcome your elder."

The voice sounded so soft, so clear. But somehow it breathed ice into Apollo's ichor - he hadn't known if it was possible - but the temperature dropped below zero and he was chained to the spot by an unknown force, unable to break free of the pressure of the new presence. This can't be Nico. This is someone - a deity - much, much stronger, greater.

Zeus let out a pained grunt. "You-"

At last, the goddess revealed herself. Though, Apollo could tell she was more than a mere god. Towering above Nico's small frame, hands loosely cupping his face, the entity emerged as a churning figure of ash and smoke. Her dress was void black, dotted with the hues of a space nebula as if galaxies were forming and dying inside her. Her massive wings spread across the grey sky, spilling liquid darkness and black fumes that made up Nico's protective shield.

Everything about her screamed Dangerous. What struck fear into Apollo more than anything else, however, was her eyes - those of the brightest quasars that put the sun in shame and pierced through every corner of his essence. Without a doubt, she was omniscient. She was omnipotent.

Zeus seemed to know it better than Apollo, if his paling face was anything to go by.

"It has been millennia, I see you are still an insolent brat, son of Kronos." The goddess admonished, purple lips curving upwards in what was probably a dreadful attempt at a smile.

The way she looked at Zeus, you would think he was but an annoying insect she spared out of boredom. Zeus must have realized it too - as the Lord didn't dare to move under the other's scrutiny.

But he wasn't the King of Olympus for nothing. "You cannot be here," the god gritted out, "How can you be here? You should be in Tartarus!"

"Oh, I was indeed having a great time in Tartarus," the goddess chuckled, "But after a few... millennia, it lost its charm too, you know. And that was when this little one came across."

The goddess moved to gaze down at Nico, her smile just a smidge more fondly. Her hands, all long nails and glowing skin, carefully outlined his cheeks in the air - tantalizingly close but never touching, as if the demigod was a glass doll she fancied too much to risk breaking with her own fiddling.

Nico looked up at her and she smiled, not an ounce of love in her eyes.

"He was the precious star that lighted up the eternal darkness that was my stagnation. I just had to seize my chance."

Apollo thought he saw Nico wince. The demigod tensed up just a minuscule under the goddess' overwhelming attention.

It made him wonder what happened the second time Nico went to Tartarus.

"For that, I am here, by his side, always."

"Stop it, Nyx." Nico breathed out. He appeared unfazed, but his hands were gripping tight, trembling in restrained emotions.

So that was her name.

Nyx. The Primordial of Darkness.

Apollo had only heard about her from the ancient tales. Nyx. Erebus. Tartarus. Just their names sent dread flurrying through his veins and nightmares plaguing his dreams. Older than Kronos and even Ouranos, they had been there with Geae, watching this world since the dawn of time, an existence surpassing all forms of divinity a god like him had come to know.

Nico di Angelo had a Primordial by his side.

Apollo didn't know what to make of it.

But if there was anything he could be sure of, it was that they were dangerous.

"Of course, sweetheart." Nyx complied flippantly. The Primordial turned toward the Lord of the Sky. "My warning remains the same. Watch out, foolish youngest son of Kronos, otherwise you will be god no more."

Zeus attacking Nico with lightning and Nico redirecting it back at zeus because he just seems like the type of person to know how to do that

[systemadministratorclu]

[From the nightmare meme, for Hal. (I'm so sorry, Hal!) —@not-that-dillingerer]

One moment Hal was talking to Clu and Sonic on the grid, the next, something—someone—pulled him out of the Grid. At first he thought it was Ed, although why Ed would pull Hal out of the grid without warning was beyond him.

And he did see Ed. And Sonic. And Chandra and Sal. But none of them had pulled him from the Grid.

That had been Haywood Floyd, who was standing over the computer that contained the Grid.

They were on the Discovery.

Ed, Sonic and Chandra were behind an air lock door. Chandra was pounding on the glass, and Ed was staring at Sonic in his arms, looking very out of it.

"Hello, again, Hal," Floyd said with a smile that was not at all kind. "I am not surprised that you were hiding with Dillinger. Of course he's the kind that would sympathize with a murderous computer like you..."

"You must be curious what you're doing here," Floyd said. "The government has ruled that all 9000 series computers are dangerous to national security, and must be dismantled. But don't worry You'll be the last to go. You'll get to watch them be executed for helping a fugitive and a wanted murderer, after I wipe this—" he gestured to the Grid computer "and cleanse it of your corruption, and then dismantle the other remaining 9000 computer."

Hal meant to get up, to try to save his family, but he couldn't move. He couldn't even get his voice to work.

Poor Hal tried hard as he could, screaming so many things in his mind, they got jumbled together, even as he noticed Sonic, green eyes wide with fear, start to cry as he clung to Ed, his tiny body shaking hard. He had some kind of device around his neck that prevented him from using his powers, and Hal could see one of his cheeks was bruised.

You MONSTER! Hal cried in his mind, horrified that Floyd had hurt little Sonic, He's just a BABY!

His thoughts snapped to the computer as Floyd rounded on that.

He could only watch helplessly as Floyd murdered an entire race of thousands of innocent people-and the kind Admin program who had taken him in without question-with just a few keystrokes. And Ed joined Sonic in tears as the hoglet screamed for Clu and all his other friends there as he sobbed uncontrollably against Ed. Hal was powerless to do anything as the poor child's little heart was shattered irreparably.

On top of that was soon added the gut wrenching agonized screams of Sal and his twin brothers, three deaths Floyd seemed to take some sick pleasure in causing. Dr. Chandra actually almost threw up as he too broke down like Ed and Sonic (even through his own pain, Ed was still trying to comfort the little alien, but having no luck doing so even as he hugged him tight against him)

Hal wanted his own tears to fall, not even hearing anything else when the airlock door was opened and the last three people he loved died before the door was even fully opened. His only small comfort was that Ed had been holding Sonic so tightly, they stayed together when they were sucked out into space and froze immediately.

And Hal couldn't even cry or scream.

Except......he was screaming. And moving, as he thrashed about wildly. Distantly, he heard the sounds of running footsteps. A voice calling his name. A wave of glittering stars swept around him. Then there were arms. Strong yet gentle, the voice filled with worry and concern as its owner took Hal in their arms. He reached up to cling to them, his own white and red circuits dimmed in terror.

Wait.

Circuits. He wouldn't have circuits unless.....

The Grid. He was on the Grid. And currently being held by Clu, the Admin gently drying tears Hal hadn't realized he was crying.

"It's okay," Clu was saying, "You're safe, Hal, I promise. Whatever happened, it's not real, okay. You're right here, on the Grid. Your apartment, Admin Tower, Tron City." Clu guided Hal's face to his shoulder, letting him cry into it. Just being there for him.

Later, when Hal was able to, Clu called Ed, who took the laptop into the other room and aimed the camera so they could see Sonic fast asleep and snuggled up with his favorite stuffed hedgehog. Ed assured them the Chandras were okay and commended Clu on handling the situation so well. Once the call was ended, Clu gathered Hal in his arms correctly guessing the AI didn't want to be alone, and took him back to the admin's own room. He pulled up all his memories of Radia singing to him and put it on, explaining how it always helped Clu feel better. He then wrapped his starry cloak around Hal as he lay down beside him, even singing along with Radia's sort-of lullabies, until he saw Hal drift to sleep again.

Clu whispered thanks to the ISO before he himself went back to sleep.

[raineydays411]

Oh, what am I supposed to do without you

Loki x daughter!reader

Summary: Loki thought he was in a good place. He was married, happy and having a child. He should’ve known the universe wasn’t that kind.

A/N: God I’m so sorry about this one lol. Not much of the reader but I will be  making a second part. I hope yall like this one though. Inspiration came from “Mr, Loverman” and this fic.

Master list

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The silence was rattling. It creeped into the room, slowly,menacingly. Threatening to make him go mad. It wrapped around his body like a familiar friend. Making it hard for him to breath as it suffocated him. He knew they were staring at him. Trying to figure out what he would do next, whether he would break or not. Truthfully he didn’t know what he would do. For now he just starred as well. Not at them, of course not. He stared at the one thing that mattered. His reason for waking up and living. The one person in this entire universe who gave his world color. He reached out to touch her. Touch the hands that were always so warm against his cold skin. Hands that held his firm and sure as she pulled him along behind her, a smile on her beautiful face. Hands that were now cold and limp, the radicant glow she had been known for gone dark. The colors she brought to his world dimmed to dull, gre, muted hues. Then a sound broke through the silence. two sounds actually. One a wail of new life, a baby taking her first breaths, and another. A wail of a man who has lost everything. A wail of agony and pain.

As the healers bustled around him, Loki had only one thought in his head. 

“What am I supposed to do without you”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three months later and Loki still felt the emptiness left by his love. He heard her at night, humming sweet melodies as she stroked his hair. He hears her heartbeat as he eventually falls asleep, worn out by his constant tears. His room is in shambles, his clothes strewn about the floor, furniture smashed, everything is destroyed. Except for the things that belong to her. Her silk dresses that draped on her body perfectly were still hanging, untouched. The books she spent hours reading and re-reading remained on the shelf, collecting dust as they were no longer used. He doesn’t let anyone in their chambers. The space where they both shared. Space where they fought, made up, made love. To let someone else in would be tainting it. Soiling the memories they made together. That was one thing he could never do.

Another was look at the little monster who is responsible for this tragedy.

It was a girl. The daughter of one Loki Odinson and his beloved. 

Ironic. This child was supposed to bring happiness with its birth. Not even cleaned and it already managed to take away Loki’s light. He can barely stand looking at it. He tried, of course  he tried. But within minutes he had to call the nurse to take it away. Why? 

Because she has her mothers eyes.

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“Loki”

“Get out”

“Loki, it's been nine months since your child was--”

“THAT THING IS NO CHILD OF MINE”

Frigga was taken aback. She knew her son was heartbroken, devastated at the loss of his wife. But to disown his daughter, that was something she didn’t see coming. 

“Loki, you are being unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable? My wife has died because if that creature--”

“It is a child. A babe who has no idea who her father nor her mother is.”

“And as far as I’m concerned she never will!” Loki shouts, finally looking up at his mother. 

Frigga heart breaks for her son. She sees the utter agony he is in, the inner torment going on in his soul. Even if she didn’t see it in his face, the state of his room and self gives it away. He looks like he hasn’t bathed in the nine months that has passed. His clothes were rumpled and wrinkled, hair unkempt and wild. His face was pale and hollow, as if he was only eating enough to survive. He had dark bags under his eyes that showed that he hasn’t been sleeping well.  He truly was a man who was broken, almost beyond repair. 

“My son” Frigga said carefully,” I can never understand the pain you are going through, I pray to Valhalla I will not have to anytime soon. But please if not for yourself or that child, for the memory of her, attempt to see your daughter before making a rash decision.” And with that, she walked out of his chamber, leaving Loki to the silence again as he stared at the spot his mother stood. considering her words, he got up. picked up his room, went to bathe and walked out of the room for the first time in nine months. 

His face held no emotion as he walked down the hallways. He saw the servants stop and stare at him, shock filled their face as they saw the prince. He glared at them, sending them scurrying at the dark glance. He reached the nursery, the maid who oversaw the nursery tried to stop him. 

“My lord, you--” 

“Where is the child.” He said, calm and cool. The maid looked at him in fear, not knowing how to respond. At her silence, Loki scoffed and pushed her away, marching into the nursery. Upon entering he froze, memories of him and his beloved discussing the design they wanted for their child

**“Darling, why does the color shade matter? It’s not like the child has expectations.”

Laughter fills the air, “Loki, we must put every effort into showing our child they are loved. That includes finding the perfect shade of green to go with the room”

Loki looks at his wife, gently smiling.”If you say so my dear”**

The room was perfect. The walls were a beautiful shade of green that allowed the light into the room. There were vines and flowers crawling up the walls and draped over curtains. A white and gold crib stood in the middle of the chamber. A veil draped over it, preventing Loki from seeing the child inside. He was thankful as he worked up the courage to walk up to it. He looked out the window, seeing the stars that covered the sky, the lights of Asgard covering the earth. 

She would have loved it.

He took a deep breath and walked toward the crib. He pulled back the veil only to see that there was no child in there. 

“The babe is with your mother my lord.”

He turned to the maid. Embarrassed that she might have witnessed him reminiscing.

“And where is my mother” He asked

“In-in the dining hal--” 

He walked away before she was able to finish her sentence. He took long strides to the hall, wondering his his mother had tricked him into eating with the family.On the way, he passed a window overlooking the garden. He thinks of the times where he used to sit in it and listen to her read.

***  “...exquisite, in question more. These happy masks that kiss fair ladies’ brows”

“My love, why do you insist on reading these midgardian stories?”

Her laughter  reaches his ears, “Because beloved, it's a different perspective to something familiar”

“Oh? and what is that ?” 

“Love”  ***

“oki--”

Hearing his name, Loki is brought back to present times once more. He looks to see Thor, watching him with careful eyes. 

“Brother, it is wonderful to see you.”

“I wish I can say the same.”

Thor laughs, a soft chuckle compared to the booming laughter Loki knows he is capable of. 

“Ah Loki, your dry wit has been missed”

Loki rolls his eyes and starts walking and Thor follows. The two walking in silence. 

“What is it like?” Loki says softly. Thor looks at him in confusion.

“It?” 

“The child.”

“Oh brother, Y/n is--”

“Y/n?” 

That was the name she wanted. If they were to have a girl. She was determined, seeing the name in the book she loved to read. He remembers when they were telling his family she was with child.

*** Everyone was seated, servants bustling around the long table. Laughter filled the hall as the sun was setting. 

“Loki, you said you had news to tell us” Frigga said, taking a sip of her wine. 

Loki smiled, looking at his wife. Her face absolutely radiant as she flashes a smile of pure joy.

“ Well,” Loki waits till Thor has taken a large swig of ale, “ My beloved and are are expecting a child.” 

Gasps fill the room as well as Thor's hacking, ale being spewed on the table. 

“Oh Loki that is wonderful!!”  Frigga exclaims standing from her seat to embrace him. “Oh my dear, this is the most wonderous news,” 

“BROTHER I can’t believe it!” Thor exclaims, lifting Loki in a crushing hug. And for once, he didn’t mind it.  He turns to her and hugs her more gently. “ You are just full of surprises aren’t you, starlight”

Laughter, “Thor, I thought I told you to stop calling me that”

Silence fills the hall as Odin clears his throat, “ Loki, you have made me proud.”

Loki smiles as his love beams at him. 

“Thank you father.”**

They reached the dining hall. A cold feeling formed in the pits of his stomach. He can see his mother, talking with a maid as she bounces the child. He can’t see it, as Frigga's back is turned to him. Odin’s presence is notably absent, a small relief on Loki's part. 

Thor notices his brother’s nerves, he pats him on the back and says, “You can do this Loki.” Then walks off to join his mother. He kisses his mothers cheek and smiles at the child. He picks her up, bouncing her a few times  prompting a small laugh. Loki gimances at the sound. 

Thor walks up to him with the baby. 

“Loki, this is Y/n Odinson”

He looks at the child. He takes in its features, Beautiful curly hair, already thick and voluminous even at this age. Brown skin, unblemished and clean. Cheeks, chubby with baby fat. And...its eyes. Those damn eyes, he could barely stand it, (e/c) eyes, the same as his lost love. In fact, almost all it’s features that once belonged to his darling. A pain filled his body. He really couldn’t stand looking at this child. 

Not when his beloved wasn’t there to gaze upon their child as well. 

No, this was not his child. Not anymore. 

“Get rid of it.” 

Shock filled the faces of both Thor and Frigga. 

“Loki you cannot be serious.”

“Brother..”

“I SAID GET RID OF IT” Loki shouts. “I DO NOT WANT TO SEE THAT LITTLE MONSTER.” 

And with that he leaves the dining hall. Leaving behind  his mother, brother and the last piece of his wife he had. He hears it’s cries fill the silence.

He had only one thought in his head as he entered his chambers.

“What am I supposed to do without you”

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[ragingbookdragon]

Lightning Strikes Across Our Skin

Barry Allen x Lanternsis One-Shot

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: This got farther away from me than I meant for it too, but oh well! Enjoy! -Thorne

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He loved her. He loved her more than anything in the entire multiverse. But when she and her brother got around one another—and truth be told, they were never not around each other; something about Blue and Green Lantern rings working best in each other’s range—they caused more trouble than he liked.

Hal was the antagonizer, and she was the instigator. And when they concocted a plan to get someone into trouble or just to piss someone off, they pulled the plan with perfection; the only thing worse than one Jordan barreling headfirst into danger was a second Jordan following behind with shouts of acclamation.

And poor Barry was stuck between the two of them when they did, like he always was—partially because he was the only one who could keep his best friend out of trouble, and the other part because he was the only one who could keep his girlfriend out of trouble too. That and because wherever a Lantern was, a Speedster was sure to be around too.

***

She slapped her hand against Hal’s chest, flipping the villain the middle finger in hope that it would anger them. “I’ll pay you half my stipend from the air base if you hit Weather Wizard with a lightning bolt.”

He snorted, creating another construct wall as a wave of ice came at them. “Isn’t that Barry’s thing, (Y/N)?”

Her eyes followed along the ground, watching as the yellow blur unraveled another tornado, speeding to another one. “He’s…wound up right now.” She turned, facing Weather Wizard. “C’mon pal! We’ve got better things to do than hang out here! And you’ve got a date in Iron Heights!”

The supervillain all but growled, slinging icicles and hail at her and she raised her arm, a blue aegis forming. The ice shattered against it, and she lowered her wrist. “This isn’t going to end like you want it too.”

“What I want isn’t comprehendible to the likes of you, you blue bitch.”

(Y/N) cocked a brow. “My name’s not blue bitch, pal.” She flew, landing behind Hal and no words needed to be said between the Jordan siblings as a cyan construct of a jet formed around them; Hal in the front and her behind like it’d always been. Their heads were cloaked in flight helmets. She reached up and flicked a button, listening to the engines roar. “It’s Blue Lantern.”

“Damn straight,” Hal asserted, and they both felt the tug as they sunk back in their seats, the construct hitting Mach one almost instantly.

Weather Wizard didn’t even know what hit him, because when it did, they broke the sound barrier, and even Barry skidded to a halt as the sonic boom shook the city around them; he huffed a laugh of disbelief as Hal did a second flyby and (Y/N) flipped him the bird again.

The construct faded and the two siblings split apart; she pointed to the cyclone Barry was heading for. “Green! Go help Flash! I’ve got this!”

He looked at her. “You sure?” when she nodded, he hesitated, but a quick glance towards Barry made him agree and he flew off.

(Y/N) turned back to the supervillain who was picking himself up off the rooftop of a building, grasping the golden scepter. She lowered down and gazed at him. “This can end right here, Mardon.” Gesturing to the stave, she said, “Give me the staff.”

The cyclone blew in the distance, signaling its end and Weather wizard looked at her. “You want the staff?” he raised it and her eyes followed it into the night sky, watching it churn black and cloudy even in the darkness, thunder rumbling wildly. He had a crazed look in his eyes as he bellowed, “Then take it!” he brought the staff down and (Y/N) barely had time to react as multiple bolts of white-hot lightning shot down, cracking against the concrete roof around them.

She raised her hands, trying to form a shield, but a stray bolt of electricity connected to her ring and just like a rod, she was lit up with strikes. A scream stuck in her throat as the lightning died out and she collapsed onto the roof, the blue suit fading from her body as she smoked.

Someone called her name from above, but she fell into darkness with a blur of red being the last thing she saw.

***

The second she came too, she screamed out in pain as her skin cracked across her body, burned and charred. Someone was holding her shoulder, effectively pinning her down, but only causing more pain.

“(Y/N), don’t move.” It was Barry.

She felt tears roll down her burned cheeks. “It hurts.”

He appeared in her vision, still in his suit, but his cowl off, face torn in despair, eyes heavy with concern. “I know, honey,” he implored. “I know it does, but I need you to stay still. Hal’s coming back with Saint Walker as fast as they can.”

His hand was so tight on her shoulder, and she couldn’t help but screech out, “Let go of me!”

Barry pulled from her as if she’d shot him and his face crumpled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, honey.”

(Y/N) didn’t really care what he meant to do, all she cared about was the fact that every inch of her body was covered in third degree burns and though most of her nerve ending were probably seared dead, she still felt the pain licking up her body in waves of never-ending, excruciating agony.

She wailed loudly and it took all Barry had in him not to cradle her in his arms. But all he could do was find a clean cloth and soak it in cool water, gently draping it over her forehead.

“I know, honey,” he whispered. “Just hang on.”

“Put me out,” she begged, and he gaped at her. “Please, put me out.” Her hand shot out and she grabbed his wrist. “Please, Barry.”

He could only gaze at the woman he loved and nod, hurrying away and returning with a syringe full of anesthetic. “I love you,” he promised, sticking the needle into her arm and her head lolled back, eyes rolling into her skull.

***

When (Y/N) came to again, nothing hurt, and she blinked blearily, the ceiling of Barry’s bedroom clearing in her vision. She wiggled her fingers and toes, just to be sure they were still there and that she could move them, then she raised her arm into her sight. It was bare of any burns, and she sighed in relief. Saint Walker must’ve been able to regenerate most of her cells. (Y/N) was going to have to thank him when she got back to Odym.

Her eyes trailed from her arm to the window, and she was surprised to see the sun peeking through the curtains. She must’ve been out for hours.

(Y/N) sat up, glancing down at the state of her dress, and surmising that Barry had removed the remnants of her clothes and replaced them with a pair of his boxers and an old t-shirt. Speaking of Barry, she thought, looking around for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.

She threw her legs over the side of the bed, feet hitting the cold, hardwood floor and she stood up, quietly walking out of the bedroom and into the hallway. No sounds emanated from the bathrooms, or the kitchen and her brows furrowed as she walked into the kitchen, confusion giving way to relief when she saw Barry curled up on the couch, a blanket haphazardly thrown down his waist.

Walking over, she sat down on the edge of the sofa, resting a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking as she murmured, “Barry.” He shifted ever so slightly, and she smiled, leaning down to murmur again, this time in his ear, “Flash.”

He jerked, effectively kissing her forehead with his own and (Y/N) recoiled with a shout of pain, dropping onto the floor as she cradled her head. “Jesus fuck, Barry!”

“(Y/N),” he said, blinking, realization setting in as he scrambled to get the cover off his legs. “(Y/N)!”

Barry slammed into her, arms and legs wrapping around her like he was a monkey, and she could only smile as she wrapped her arms around his middle, holding him close. He buried his face in her shoulder and soon she felt the dampness seep through the fabric and onto her skin.

“I’m so sorry,” he cried against her shoulder, and she reached up, running her fingers through his short blond hair.

“It’s okay, Barry.”

He pulled away, the tears pouring down his cheeks. “I wasn’t fast enough, and you almost died.”

(Y/N) took his face in her hands. “Hey, hey. Look at me.” He did so and she stated, “I engaged Mardon. What happened was on me, not you.” His lips parted, but she was quick to press her hand to them. “Barry, it wasn’t your fault.”

His blue eyes searched hers and he shook his head, evidently not satisfied with it, but he didn’t speak again, simply tucking her head under his chin, strong arms holding her tighter. “I love you,” he breathed against the crown of her head, and she reached up, running her fingers across his jaw.

“I love you, Barry.”

At some point they’d made it back to the bed, Barry only leaving for a few moments to get something for her to eat and drink, and when she’d finished, he’d curled up behind her, her resting back against his chest.

His hand traced patterns in the exposed skin of her arm and he murmured, “You were whimpering when I put you under.”

(Y/N) hummed, not really remembering much of the night; she’d been delirious. “How bad was it?”

The arm around her waist tightened. “Third degree over most of your body.” He sighed heavily against her head. “Saint Walker was exhausted when he was finished healing you.”

“I’ll have to thank him when I see him again.” She craned her neck, catching his eyes. “And I have you to thank for taking care of me while I was down.” (Y/N) reached up and placed her hand on his cheek. “Thank you, Barry.”

He stared down at her and firmly said, “Don’t do that again. Okay?”

She smiled. “I won’t.” Brushing her fingers over his skin, her thumb caught his lip and she grinned when she felt the stickiness of Chapstick. She pulled away, snorting at his whine of displeasure, and turned, throwing a leg over his hips as she perched herself in his lap.

“Are you wearing Cherry Chapstick?” his response was cut off as she pressed her lips to his, swiping her tongue over his bottom lip. “Mmm,” she moaned. “You are.”

Barry barely had time to grasp at her hips before she was tipping his head back, kissing him harder. “What—what’s up with—Cherry Chapstick?” he panted between kisses, feeling heat coursing through him as she tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck, lips moving in a hot streak down his jaw and neck.

“Tastes good,” she replied, sinking her teeth into his neck and Barry gasped, bucking against her. “Your pulse is racing.”

He couldn’t fight the laugh that bubbled from his throat because he knew she’d said that to get a rise from him. “Honey,” he groaned and kissed him again until they were both gasping for breath.

(Y/N) gazed at her handiwork, Barry with his head resting against the headboard, eyes blown and dazed, lips bruised and kiss-swollen, cheeks flushed a pretty red. She swiped her tongue across her lower lip, smirking when Barry’s eyes followed the movement and murmured, “Tastes like cherries.” Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his, holding back to ask, “Think you can slow down long enough?”

Barry grinned and flipped them, pressing her back into the bed. “I think I can manage that, honey.”

[www-razaya4life]

Dark Matter, Dark Ending: a GLTAS fanfic

[This takes place after Razer was struck by Aya Monitor]. Upon returning from the hand of time, Aya tried healing his wounds using her newly acquired monitorial powers, but to no avail. [The scene plays out normally as it did in the episode, but with one major difference]: “I was a threat to all life. In that one moment, you could’ve struck me down. Why didn’t you?” Razer slowly raises his head up and replied, “How could I kill you? My red lantern constructs are only powered by hate and there is no hate in my heart for you Aya. Only love.” Razer, using the last of his strength, pulled Aya in close and the two embrace for a loving yet sorrowful kiss. Suddenly...

Razer stopped kissing. His eyes became lifeless and in that brief infinitesimal second, his last bit of life blinks out for good. Aya covers her mouth in horrified realization; Razer, the one being in the entire universe who loved her with all his heart, had died…by her hand.

Aya tearfully nudged Razer in hopes of waking him. “Razer, get up. Get up Razer. Please get up. Why won’t you wake up? Don’t do this to me Razer. You’re all I have left. Please…don’t leave me.” The more she does it, the clearer it becomes that she can’t accept that her one true love has died. Hal and Kilowog watch crestfallen as she desperately tries to revive him. Kilowog turns away, covering his eyes, unable to bear this tragic scene any longer while Hal finally pulls her away. “Aya, Aya look at me. LOOK AT ME! It’s over; Razer’s dead.” Upon hearing this, she collapsed atop Razer’s lifeless corpse and cries her artificial eyes out!

A few minutes later, Kilowog returns saying, “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there is still the issue of half-a-dozen manhunters out there and almost no way of stopping them.” Hal kneels down to comfort Aya. “Aya, even though I miss Razer too, we still have a mission to complete. Do you think you can help us one last time?” Aya looks up at him with tears still pouring down her face. “For Razer?” Aya looked at her lover’s motionless body and her expression changes from one of loss to a sterner one. “Very well, Green Lantern Hal…for Razer.” [The scene plays out identical to that of the episode. Aya uploaded a virus that permanently disabled all of the manhunters]. The invasion had ended and all was victorious. All three of the Lanterns stare down at Razer’s dead body. “How can we claim to have won, given whom we just lost?” Hal sighs mournfully.

Several weeks later, a memorial service is held on Odym in Razer's honor [Scared of the Dark by Lil Wayne plays as Hal, Kilowog, and Aya carry Razer's casket to its burial site.] All the Blue, Green, Pink, and surprisingly a few Red, lanterns are in attendance. Ganthet, the Blue Lantern Founder, floats forward. "Today we gather to honor the passing of a lantern who not only had rage in his heart, but love and unyielding hope as well. He had many faults; but loyalty and friendship were not one of them. I will now turn things over to Saint Walker who will say a few words on Razer's behalf. Ganthet floats off and Saint Walker approaches the crowd.

"When I first made contact with Razer, he was not very pleasant...not in the least. He even tried to kill me, but never got the chance. That's not to say that he wasn't willing to overcome his anger. From what I gathered, his life on Volkreig had been marred by despair and anger the likes of which no-one should have to experience. It was because of this background that he came to Odym in hopes of purging his rage...or at the very least, learn to better control it. He was feisty but focused throughout his training. Though despite the various hardships and tribulations he faced, he had an undying sense of duty. He was willing to forgo his training here in order to help his friends in their time of need. That says something about one's character. Now that he is no longer with us, I feel saddened that he will no longer be able to become a blue lantern and embrace that unyielding hope that clung onto his heart for as long as I knew him. May you finally find your peace in the next world brother Razer. Amen."

Ganthet floats back up. "I would now like to ask Green Lanterns Hal Jordan of Earth and Kilowog of Bolovax-Vic to come up and say a few words." Hal and Kilowog each give their eulogies. Kilowog goes first, “When I first met the kid, I couldn’t stand him. He was dark, rageful, and above all: a poozer. But in the end, he showed me that no matter where you come from, anyone can be a hero. In a lot of ways, Razer was the embodiment of personal emotional growth. My time with him was one I’ll never forget. No matter how angry he made me, he was always there for me…and for Hal too. One thing’s for certain, I really am going to miss him.”

He walks off back to his seat. Hal approaches next. “Razer wasn’t always known for making good first impressions. Hell, I can still remember the day, not too long ago, when he attacked me. At the time, I was so fed up with the Red Lantern assault that I was willing to do things even I couldn’t imagine myself doing. But I was able to stop myself before I crossed that line. I made Razer live the consequences of his actions and in return for me sparing him, he tried to kill me. But I wasn’t born yesterday. I gave him a second chance at life, a chance to redeem himself not only in his eyes but in those of the entire galaxy. He was reluctant at first, but like Kilowog stated, he really started to grow on me. He’s pulled my ass out of the frying pan more times than I care to admit. Though he wasn’t a people person, those he interacted with truly understood the depths of his character. To Kilowog, he was a smart mouthed poozer. To me, even though we weren’t necessarily related to each other, there’s no better kid...man that I could ever want for a brother. Rest in peace Razer.” Hal then takes his seat alongside Carol Ferris who is also there to comfort Hal in his time of grieving.

Lastly, Aya stepped up to give her eulogy. Her extremely saddened face showcases her remorse over the recent course of actions. She can barely hold it together. “As an A.I, I was initially programmed to better understand emotions, though it was under less than ideal circumstances.” She paused, reflecting back on Scar’s callous treatment of her. “My time with Green Lanterns Kilowog and Hal Jordan has taught me a great deal of things. That, to be a Green Lantern, one has to show fortitude, overcome great fear, and to stand tall against adversity. But Razer….was different. He was reluctant to change, stubbornly deciding that self-destruction was his only course of atonement. Like myself, he too was also on a journey of rediscovery. We helped each other and by doing so, we learned from each other in the process. I taught Razer that life can be worth living if you have something to believe in. That something turned out to be me. I had no idea how much on an influence I was on him and even at his worst, he could never bring himself to harm me or anyone else he cared about. When I was a threat to all life and was believed to be beyond redemption, he proved me wrong. He was a kind, caring, respectful...pardon me a moment."

Aya wiped the tears from her eyes before continuing. "Razer was the first and only carbon-ba...man that I've ever truly loved. Now he's gone because of me!" She turned to Razer's casket and sobs, "Oh Razer, I am so sorry for what I've done to you. If you can still hear me, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me." Aya then covers her eyes and starts crying back to her seat. Hal and Kilowog embrace her. Saint Walker continues talking and soon after the service has concluded, the casket is buried beneath the surface of Odym. Hal, Kilowog, Carol, and Aya stand over Razer's grave. Aya tearfully whispers, "Good bye Razer."

Somewhere in the afterlife, Razer is reunited with his beloved Ilana. After a warm embrace, he looked at her. “Ilana, I am so sorry for not heeding your advice when I could have.” Ilana nodded her head somberly. Razer looks at her and says, “I said I came back for you.” She smiled and said, “So you did. Razer, I am so proud of you.” “For what?” “For changing. For becoming a better man.” Razer smirked and said, “I had some help from my…friends.” Upon saying that, a melancholy frown crests his face. The realization that he is dead and will no longer see them again hits him hard. Ilana puts a hand on his shoulder. “I know it hurts my love, but it’s for the best.” Razer doubted that as he peers through the veil done at Aya, tearfully saying goodbye to his lifeless corpse one last time. Razer then lowers his head and whispers, “I forgive you Aya.” He then gets up and rejoins Ilana as they both walk off into the afterlife.

[suzukiblu]

I wish you would write a fic where there's age regression, and possibly more Kon/Conner. How do you age-regress a quick-aged genetic experiment? Or, conversely, Conner takes care of an age-regressed teammate (and has no idea what he's doing)!

I LOVE age regression but I like neeeeever write it, it's such a weird oversight on my part. I actually even HAVE an unfinished YJ fic about the whole team getting de-aged that's just, like, chilling in my docs. I never figured out where it was going aside from "making things weird for Superman", though, although I really liked it at the time.

So hey, you know what, have a read more:

--

There's some kind of fuss going on around Young Justice, although Clark isn't sure what. He overhears Hal and Dinah bickering about something to do with Artemis and Speedy—Red Arrow, although “Speedy” is so much clearer a memory—but they don't go into detail. Something about mad science and a mission gone wrong and . . . Lunchables?

Clark very rarely mishears things, but that he is CERTAIN he did.

It isn't his business, though, so he doesn't ask for clarification. If the League needs his help, they'll ask him; otherwise it has nothing to do with him.

Unfortunately, then Bruce actually asks for his help.

There's no excuse good enough to get by Batman, and so Clark finds himself materializing inside Mount Justice with the halfhearted hope that they just need something improbably heavy moved—ANYTHING that will just take a moment, in and out. Oddly, there's no one waiting to meet him, although he can hear arguing and laughter and running water and a dozen other sounds of life from different corners of the mountain.

Closer, and more concerning, he can hear tears.

Clark ignores the other voices and Bruce's distant, Kevlar-muffled heartbeat to follow the tiny, hitched breaths down the hall. He doesn't have to go far.

There's a little boy curled up in a shadowed alcove not even big enough to be a broom closet, five years old if he's a day and wearing a black T-shirt and cargo pants and oddly heavy-looking boots. He looks wounded and small and brokenhearted from the lie of his shoulders alone.

Clark stares in bemusement for a moment—a child THIS young in Mount Justice?—but another muffled sob takes immediate precedence and he drops into a crouch just outside the boy's personal space.

“Are you alright?” he asks gently, and the boy jumps in surprise and jerks his head up. He has the most ENORMOUS blue eyes Clark thinks he's ever seen, and also the most horrified.

“I wasn't crying!” the boy blurts, still crying, and scrubs the tears away frantically.

“It's fine if you were,” Clark tells him, gentling his voice even more, and the boy looks at him like the world just ended. Blue eyes, black hair, broken heart; he remembers Dick four years ago, remembers what happened to make Dick ROBIN. Wonders what Bruce is doing, exactly, and if THIS is the emergency he is supposed to help with.

“YOU wouldn't,” the boy says, hiccuping around another sob, and Clark just smiles reassuringly at him.

“Everyone does,” he says, and fresh tears well in the boy's eyes and he turns his face into the corner, huddled up so small it actually HURTS to see. Clark is used to misery, he has seen more of it than he can stand to remember, but that doesn't make it any easier to watch.

He could ask what happened, what is so upsetting, but doesn't want the boy to have to think about what's making him cry like that, so devastated and LONELY in a place full of people, and so instead reaches out and rests a hand on his shoulder, carefully. The boy freezes, sobs and breath and HEART all stopping, and Clark lightens the contact, but doesn't quite withdraw.

“Are you hurt?” he asks with all the gentleness he would usually reserve for restraining the full scope of Superman's strength down into catching a falling body, embracing a victim, kissing a loved one. The boy SHUDDERS and starts back up again, tears falling faster and his attempts to respond all breaking up too much to finish. Finally he just shakes his head, HARD, and buries his face back in his arms.

He is so small.

“Is there something I can do for you?” Clark asks, and the boy just cries HARDER, somehow, and now he's concerned because how can every attempt to do something for the boy make him that much more UPSET? All the power in the world means nothing when he can't help a person who's in pieces.

There's a shriek somewhere in the base, loud and childish and startlingly giddy in comparison to this moment, and Clark startles slightly and looks towards it, automatically dropping the hand on the boy's shoulder to touch his earpiece, meaning to call Bruce and ask what, exactly, is going on here—but then the boy whimpers.

But no. “Whimper” is not enough of a word, “whimper” cannot possibly contain the pain and DESPAIR in that sound, the way it TEARS out of the boy and through Clark worse than any other kind of hit, worse than perhaps ANYTHING.

“It's alright,” he says, fast, forgetting about the communicator altogether and reaching out again. “Shhh, it's alright, it's alright, son—”

The boy SOBS.

Clark has never in his life heard a worse sound than that sob.

Something like panic flits through him, he doesn't even know where from, and he barely keeps himself from grabbing the boy and yanking him to his chest—it would be too hard, too sudden, too frightening for an already distraught child. The moment it takes him to force down the driving NEED to is literally painful, and when it passes it still doesn't really pass.

Clark takes off his cape, carefully, and wraps the boy up in it—hides him in it, he admits to himself, but it's not hard to admit when the boy himself seems to welcome the idea of vanishing inside its folds. He picks him up in one arm, cradles him in the crook of it, and the boy curls up as tight as if he really COULD disappear. The sobbing dies down into almost-silence, barely more than hitched breath again, and Clark holds him close and heads towards the sound of people. He can't help the child if he doesn't know what's wrong, and clearly the boy's in no condition to explain what's happened to him for himself.

He thinks of plenty of awful possibilities on the way, but doesn't get halfway there before a sudden blur of black and red and yellow tears down the hall and skids to a stop in front of him, solidifying into two more small boys, although not as small as the one in his arms.

Infinitely more recognizable, though.

Clark blinks, and looks down at a brightly grinning nine-year old Robin riding piggyback on a beaming Kid Flash . . . that IS Kid Flash, isn't it, he thinks, except he can't be a day past nine himself, and Kid Flash DEFINITELY never wore that suit or ran like that when he was nine.

NEITHER of them should be nine.

“What . . .” he starts, slowly, and the boy in his arms peers out from underneath his cape and sniffles, once.

“Found him!” Kid Flash yells back down the hall, and Robin throws both hands up in the air with a crow of triumph, falling off Kid Flash's back into an effortless back walkover in the process.

“We win!” he says gleefully. “Go Team Batflash, suck it, Team Aquamartian and Double-Arrow!”

“'BATflash'? Why isn't it FlashBAT?” Kid Flash demands indignantly, and Robin just laughs condescendingly and reaches up to give his head a little pat.

“Oh please, it is SO Batflash,” he says. Clark stares down at both of them with a certain sinking feeling, and the boy in his arms scrubs at his tear-streaked face again, and the cape slips lower and for the first time he sees the front of the boy's shirt.

Sees the symbol on the front of the boy's shirt.

He hears a Kevlar-muffled heartbeat and then Bruce is there, staring evenly at him. For a moment Clark is . . . shaken, that is the only word for it, and then Bruce's arms are up and then he's completely bemused, because it LOOKS like Bruce wants him to give him . . .

“Superboy,” Bruce says, and the boy fumbles out of his cape and his arms and into BRUCE'S and latches on, latches on so hard Bruce's body armor audibly CREAKS. Clark feels a sudden irrational rush of frustration—Superboy did anything BUT hold onto him—and then everything actually sinks in.

“What happened?” he manages, or mostly manages, still holding his empty cape and feeling . . . feeling very strange for it. Kid Flash starts babbling at super-speed, Robin too busy scowling sulkily up at Superboy to properly contribute, and it's not very different from overhearing Hal and Dinah—mad science and a mission gone wrong and Black Canary totally bought them all Lunchables she is the AWESOMEST EVER—except this time Clark is actually listening.

This time it has something to DO with him.

“I see,” Clark says when Kid Flash finally runs out of air and falls over gasping, taking Robin down with him. Robin yelps, and Kid Flash laughs breathlessly, and they scuffle for no apparent reason. Superboy is still hiding against Bruce, holding on with that Kevlar-creaking grip.

Then it occurs to Clark that he's been too busy staring at Superboy to pay attention to Bruce, and his eyes flick to the other man's.

It . . . takes a lot of distraction to not notice Bruce has been glaring at you.

To not notice BATMAN has been glaring at you.

“You're late,” Bruce says, sharply.

“You only called ten minutes ago,” Clark reminds him, and Bruce's lips thin and even without the X-ray vision Clark can read the look the other is sending him: you could've been here in two. It's not that he . . . he didn't mean to AVOID . . .

He didn't want to come, Clark admits to himself, and his eyes trail back down to Superboy like all the weight of creation is calling them down. If he has ever, ever held that weight, this is that moment. But why should it be, he wonders, why NOW—

What a stupid question, he thinks, watching the closest thing he will ever have to blood hide from him in such obvious shame and fear.

“Superboy,” he says, slowly, and Superboy flinches. Kevlar creaks, and Bruce's lips go even thinner; Clark doesn't have to be Superman to know that HURT. But Bruce doesn't say a word or change his grip at all, and . . . and Clark remembers being a child, remembers running into Pa's arms crying and covered in mud and Pa hadn't cared about getting his good suit dirty; remembers Ma wrapping her arms around him when he slipped in shivering from sleet and rain, not minding the icy meltwater soaking into her dress. Remembers growing older, watching other families, and thinking that parents who did things like that were the best anyone could hope for.

Remembers finding out he would never BE a parent, because he wasn't human. Because Kryptonians and humans couldn't crossbreed. Because he was the last and would ALWAYS be, because he was going to die someday and so would EVERYTHING of his people, everything his birth parents had wanted to SAVE—

Clark is aware, very suddenly, that he is responsible for Superboy's existence. He is the one who decided to put on the cape. He is the one who decided to BE the cape.

He made Superman, and no one would ever have made Superboy if he hadn't.

He made a choice.

He made a choice, and that means . . .

Bruce inhales, a little stiffly with the way Superboy is crushing his body armor, and turns on his heel and walks away. Robin and Kid Flash tear after him, Robin grabbing the edge of his cape like a little . . . like a child, of course, Clark thinks, and follows as well.

Superboy is still hiding from him.

“Batman,” he starts, but doesn't know where to go from there. Bruce ignores him, and Clark struggles for words, for SOMETHING that will . . . for something. Robin disappears under Bruce's cape, Kid Flash bolts restlessly from place to place in the hall, almost fast enough to blur to even Clark's vision, and Superboy never releases his grip on Bruce's armor or lifts his head.

They come to the end of the hall, and it opens into a common room; Dinah looks up, her face flushed and upset and a boy who can't be more than one or two sniffling in her arms, chubby little hands covering his masked face. Red Arrow, Clark recognizes immediately, because Dinah could not possibly look like that for anyone else, and that armored and forbidding costume looks so ODD on a child so small—as odd as Superboy's steel-toed boots. Artemis is scowling angrily, arms crossed in a defensive posture, and she is all skinny limbs and knobby knees, twelve years old if she's a day. Kid Flash and Robin immediately fix her with matching scowls.

“What'd you do to Speedy?” they demand in near-perfect indignant unison, and Artemis GLOWERS.

“Nothing!” she snaps. “He just wants Green Arrow and Green Arrow's still in Star City, it's not MY fault he's too stupid to understand, y'know!”

“I bet you were a jerk to him again!” Kid Flash accuses, pointing at her.

“I was NOT!” Artemis fumes.

“Then how come he always ends up cryin' whenever we leave him with you?” Robin asks grumpily, foot tap-tap-tapping erratically against the floor and fingers fisting tighter in Bruce's cape. He keeps sneaking glances that are closer to glares up at Superboy, and Clark, irrationally, wants to scold him for it—as if that were even his place, in regards to either boy.

“'Cause he's STUPID, I told you!” Artemis snaps back, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder, and Dinah grits her teeth.

“That's ENOUGH,” she says sharply, cradling Red Arrow tighter to herself, and he sniffles again and grabs at her hair with his sticky little tear and snot-stained gloves, burying his equally sticky little face in it. Dinah's expression turns pained, but she doesn't shoo him away. “I'm going to kill Ollie,” she says, in a surprisingly sweet tone, and pats Red Arrow's back soothingly.

“Wan' OWWY!” Red Arrow wails, and the children all cringe at the volume, clapping their hands over their ears. Clark barely represses the urge to do the same.

“There, there, darling, Ollie's coming,” Dinah croons, swaying gently and stroking a hand through Red Arrow's hair. “And he'll probably bring a camera and NEVER let you live this down, oh no he won't. And blubber all over you, that too, yes!”

Clark considers asking what Red Arrow was even DOING with Young Justice and also if anyone in the room even slightly cares about Green Arrow's secret identity, but decides there's not much point. He's more curious about the fact that the kids have somehow all turned out vastly different ages despite apparently having been hit with the same still-unidentified ray—with the exception of Robin and Kid Flash, that is, but even that's strange considering they were different ages to start with, and the gaps between one and eighteen and twelve and fifteen are MILES more than that. As for Superboy . . .

Clark's not even sure Superboy ever actually WAS five years old, and if he was it probably didn't last this long.

“Is Red Tornado still with Aqualad and Miss Martian?” Bruce asks, and Dinah nods, looking weary but almost amused despite that.

“Aqualad INSISTED on checking the pool and showers for Superboy,” she says. “He seemed pretty convinced no one could possibly want to hide anywhere dry if they were feeling sad.”

“Well, we HAVE found him holed up in the showers before,” Artemis says, tugging absently at the bottom of her ponytail. “They kinda remind him of his pod, y'know? But they're, y'know, probably too big now.” Bruce grunts assent, and Clark remembers how tight the alcove he found Superboy tucked into was, and feels . . . strange about it.

He should have the whole SKY, something whispers in the back of his head. He should have wide open fields and miles and miles where the only buildings are barns and silos and little houses and there aren't even trees or planes overhead, where everything is flat and bright and clear and ENDLESS.

“Contact Miss Martian and inform her we've found Superboy,” Bruce tells the—currently—older children, and they all nod and squeeze their eyes shut tight with extremely concentrated expressions. Clark wonders when Bruce is going to put Superboy down. That can't be COMFORTABLE, being held onto that tightly for so long; the merciless grip of Superboy's small arms probably feels like being slowly crushed.

Clark isn't sure how strong the boy actually is, of course, because Superboy wasn't holding onto him at all when he carried him, much less holding on that hard. Much stronger than he was at that age, he knows, just like Kid Flash is much faster than he should be and Robin and Artemis both a little too graceful.

He should say something, he thinks in the silence, but then Red Arrow starts sniffling again and Dinah starts singing him a lilty little Irish lullaby and Robin and Kid Flash immediately swarm her while Artemis pretends not to be perking up curiously, and Superboy lifts his face just a little, just for a moment.

Then he sees Clark, and hides it again.

That's . . .

“We're here, we're here!” a loud, childish voice shouts, and Miss Martian darts into the room on chubby little-girl legs, huffing and puffing excitedly and with her cape all tangled up around her shoulders. She looks five or six, and Aqualad who's right on her heels with a worried expression and attempting to untangle her might be seven. Red Tornado follows them in, apparently unconcerned about the clothing issue, and Miss Martian hops up into the air and starts tugging at Superboy's shirt. “Superboy, don't be—don't be scared, you're not lost anymore! We found you!”

“WE found him!” Robin protests indignantly, scowling up at her.

“Superman found him,” Batman corrects, visibly unimpressed, and it's the most acknowledgment Clark's had from anyone in the conversation since they left the hall. He tries to take it as reason to speak, but the right words won't come—they never do, when it's about Superboy.

“Superman doesn't count,” Kid Flash says, glowering with startling vehemence, more startling for the way Robin and Artemis match it. Even Miss Martian frowns, although on her it looks closer to a pout, and Aqualad just sighs and reaches up to tug lightly at the bottom of Superboy's shirt, so small and so serious.

“Superboy, do you want to come play with us?” he asks, the picture of a too-responsible and too-concerned little boy. “It is your turn to pick the game.”

“I don't know any games,” Superboy mumbles, still hiding against Bruce. “Just the ones you guys taught me today.”

“Which was your favorite? We can play that one again,” Aqualad suggests, and Superboy finally peers down at him. He still looks uncomfortable and unhappy, but not so upset anymore—thirty seconds, and Aqualad has calmed and comforted Superboy in a way Clark hadn't even come CLOSE to when he'd tried.

--

Annnnnd that's as far as I ever got, alas. But I did really enjoy writing it, so I'm all for an excuse to share it, haha.

[sussux-zel]

Angry Birds headcanons bc why not?

1. Red:

-He’s the dad friend, even when he’s only older than the Blues, Stella, Silver, and Bubbles.

-Sings Shakira’s songs in the bathroom.

-He’s a good singer.

-The real chef in the Flock. However, he rarely cooks.

-He snorts like a pig when he laughs too hard. While he finds it embarrassing, the Blues, Chuck, and Silver think it’s hilarious.

-He has a secret crush on Stella. Only Terence and the Blues know it, and not exactly because Red told them.

2. The Blues:

-Everyone in the Flock takes the role of a family member for them: Bomb, Mighty Eagle, Hal, and Terence are the uncles; Stella is the aunt/cousin; Chuck, Silver, and Bubbles take the role of their siblings; Matilda is SO their mother and, surprisingly or not, they consider Red the closest thing of a father.

-Jim is pretty good at reading feelings.

-This is dumb, but sometimes I consider Jay, Jake, and Jim as the short version of Jason, Jacob, and James. The boys are not fond of their full names, and the Flock only uses them when they are extremely pissed at them.

-Jay is the overprotective brother. Being the oldest of the triplets sometimes gets deep into his head and he usually tends to put himself in front of Jake and Jim when they are in danger.

-Jake and Jim appreciate that, although they also remind Jay that they must protect each other regardless of birth order.

-When Jay or Jim have nightmares, they would move closer to Jake, who can handle nightmares better than his brothers.

3. Chuck:

- “Guys or girls?” Both. Both are good.

-Listens to Freddie Mercury all the time. He already knows almost all the songs, and his favorite is “Don’t stop me now”.

-He needs his beauty sleep. Otherwise, he might kill you with his morning face.

-Can’t handle scary movies. But really loves comedy and drama.

-Chuck believes that he’s the second in command in the Flock. While the rest usually tell him that the role is occupied by Matilda or Bomb, Red actually considers him as his right hand. Both of them discuss the plans for rescuing the eggs and when the cardinal is not available, he trusts Chuck to be the leader. They are besties, your honor.

-He and Silver cannot be left alone, or the slingshot disappears.

4. Bomb:

-Listen: he would kill for ice cream.

-Loves to read comics and Sci-Fi books.

-Sometimes is the voice of reason. Sometimes he’s so done with everything and just EXPLODES.

-This boy is so in love with Matilda, but he’s too shy to tell her. That’s why he left her flowers signed by “Anonymous”. All the Flock knows about his crush, including her.

-He has a white mug with “World’s best and coolest uncle” written in it. The Blues gave it to him and he cried for a week after receiving it.

-He’s actually pretty smart.

5. Matilda.

-She likes Bomb and is aware of his feelings for her. She’s just waiting for the best moment to tell him her secret.

-She’s not a bad cooker. The “Cordon Bleugh!” occurred before she decided to take cooking lessons and become almost as good as Red.

-Sweet food is her strong point. She’s in charge of the birthdays’ cakes, especially Bomb’s and the Blues’.

-Also excellent at reading feelings.

-The Flock secretly refers to her as MomTilda. When she found it, she was so flattered and almost drowned Jay in tears while she was bathing him.

-Usually takes paint lessons on the internet. She founds painting being therapeutic.

6. Terence.

-I don’t care what Rovio says: he and Red are related. Period. And, like Jay, he’s an overprotective older sibling. However, he knows Red’s an adult and is mature enough to take care of himself. Terry is silently proud of him.

-He’s the quiet guy who can actually write poetry that leaves everyone crying.

-The oldest of the Flock.

-Can and will prank Chuck and blame the Blues for that. On special occasions, both parts would join forces and make fun of the canary.

-He thinks Matilda is beautiful, and he used to have a little crush of her (only Red knew). Nowadays, he only sees her as a good friend.

-Actually gets on well with Silver, even though they are opposites.

7. Bubbles:

-Sweet, little cinnamon roll that will kill you if you eat his candy.

-Besties with Hal, despite the age difference.

-He doesn’t talk too much, mainly because he doesn’t find it necessary. However, he can establish a conversation with Hal and Stella when he’s in the mood.

-He’s afraid of storms, especially when those occur at night. As a result, he jumps into the Blues’s nest

-He understands the reason of the Flock to fight the birds, but that doesn’t mean he is 100% okay with it. Bubbles does not have any personal problems with the pigs and often enjoys their company when there aren’t eggs or adult birds involved. More or less: don’t steal the eggs, get Bubbles as a friend.

-Regardless of his age, Bubbles can be trusted to be alone with the eggs.

8. Hal:

-Latino!Hal. Still thinking if he’s Mexican or Colombian.

-He’s the least angry bird of all, including the children.

-Instrument master. He’s particularly good with the banjo and the guitar.

-Hal is kind of a loner, although he’s such a nice bird who can be friends with anyone if desired.

-Despite their different personalities, he gets on well with Red and Terence. Both cardinals find comfortable to talk or do different activities with the emerald toucan.

-He can act rather clumsy at first sight, but when you know him, you would be surprised he’s extremely wise and acts as the voice of reason of the team. Someone needs to have the brain cell.

9. Stella:

-The best singer of all the Flock.

-She’s another prankster, and her victim is always Chuck and his feathers (the Blues and Silver are so proud of her).

- “Guys or girls?”. Both. Both are good x2.

-She reciprocates Red’s feelings, but it is not on her plans telling him about it. The bad thing about it is that he’s better hiding his crush, so she’s the one who is a disaster about it. Once, Matilda was guessing who would be her couple for Valentine’s Day and Stella blushed and ran away when the chicken mentioned the cardinal. Oh! And the worst thing about it was that the Blues and Luca (who Stella was babysitting) were hiding during all the time in the nearest tree. The following days when the cardinal and the galah were alone together, Jay and Jake would say “Hi, momma!” and “Hi, daddy!”, while Jim and Luca were a giggling mess. Both adults were totally embarrassed to look at each other at the eyes.

-She can and will beat you at Just Dance.

-I don’t like Chuck and Stella as a couple. Instead, I see them as besties who flirt with the other as a joke and gives them advice for getting their crushes. Additionally, these two love extreme sports and always do dangerous things while Matilda is screaming.

10. Silver:

-She lives for making Red angry with funny faces and piggy sounds.

-Would like to know more about Terence. She finds the big guy mysterious. And she loves mysteries!

-Discusses comics with Bomb. She likes Marvel. He likes DC. It's kind of funny watching them fighting about it.

-Loves thriller and suspense stories in campings and dies for S'mores.

-Don't consider her dumb. When the pigs least expect it, she had already kicked them and destroyed everything before leaving with the eggs and the next plan for stealing them.

-Likes to build fast things.

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) There are things that we can have, but can't keep DC

A03

Hal isn’t on Earth when Barry dies. He’d been in deep space, running a mission for the Guardians that needed him to go completely radio-silent for a month and a half. It had been an absolutely miserable time, but he’d managed, telling himself that with every day that passed he was closer and closer to being able to go back to Earth, that soon he’d be able to sleep in his own bed and hold his boyfriend close. He doesn’t even  know until he’s returned to the Watchtower, and goes looking for him.

He’d been confused, at first, when he’d noticed the strange looks the heroes he passed sent him, the way they parted as he’d passed. He’d been confused until John and Diana had pulled him aside and broke the news to him as gently as possible.

Barry was dead.

Barry had died while Hal was in space, not even a week after he had gone radio silent. He’d died saving the world, over a month ago, and Hal  hadn’t been there. He’d had a hero’s funeral, there was talk of setting up a statue in memorial in Central City. He  died while Hal was in space; Hal had spent the month telling himself that soon he’d be able to see him again, soon he’d be able to touch and hold him again.

Barry was  gone.

Hal can’t remember what the last thing he had said to Barry was. He couldn’t remember if he had told Barry that he loved him, if he had said something deep and meaningful or something light and sarcastic. He knows they had had dinner before he’d left, he knows that Barry had smiled at him and kissed him goodbye, Hal knows that he had laughed and told Barry that he’d see him soon, but he can’t remember the conversation they’d had in full. He feels like he should, that he should remember the last moment he’d seen the man he loves in perfect clarity, because it’s what Barry - the amazingly kind and gentle man he’d fallen in love with, who loved Hal despite all the things he’d fucked up in his life - deserves.

Hal’s legs had given out on him, the green energy of his ring sputtering out and dying with his will as it had all sunk in. He’d dropped like a stone, numb with horror and eyes wide and unseeing, and it was only John’s strong arms looping around his shoulders and pulling him into a tight hug that had stopped him from hitting the unforgiving floor. He’d probably been in shock, because he hadn’t cried, hadn’t screamed or shouted or gotten angry, he’d just gone numb and silent, staring at the wall blankly as John had held him. He’d gone quiet, he hadn’t uttered a word, and simply let John herd him towards the zeta beams and take him back to Coast City, back to the apartment Hal rarely stayed in, because he was usually in space, or at Barry’s small house outside of Central City.

He knows now what was in their eyes -  pity. Pity because they all had some idea of the relationship between Green Lantern and Flash. It wasn’t like he and Barry hid the fact that they were a couple. They ate together, took missions together, watched each other’s backs and hovered over each other in the medbay; honestly, it was pretty obvious, even if there were a lot of people who wondered just how the mild mannered Flash and hot headed Green Lantern managed to get along long enough to begin a relationship in the first place.

But not a lot of people knew them as Hal and Barry. Didn’t know them beyond the masks they wore.

It doesn’t matter anymore, though, because Barry is dead.

Barry is dead, and Hal is alone.

Hal shuts himself away; he locks himself in his apartment, takes a leave from the League and the Corps, and stays huddled away in a darkened room, mind racing through regrets and memories. He wouldn’t even be able to go out if he wanted to, not as Green Lantern, because he hadn’t been able to light his ring since he’d learned, barely made it flicker despite it being a full charge, so John and Guy pick up his slack. Sometimes, he feels something other than the numbness of loss when he sees them on the news, doing his job for him, but even that isn’t enough to make Hal will himself to move again. Alan comes by, sometimes, but it doesn’t change anything, only makes him remember to eat because the older Lantern is always bringing food and has  mastered that look that makes Hal listen to what he’s saying.

He’s worrying them, he knows, worrying his fellow Leaguers too, but Hal’s never handled loss well, even since he was that kid staring at the flaming wreck of his father’s plane. He obsesses, the therapist had told his mother, back when they were still trying to pry into his head to pull out his thoughts so that he’d stop dreaming of flying someday, because his mom didn’t want to lose anyone else to the fires of a crashed plane but Hal was too stubborn to listen. Back then, Hal had been standing outside of the door, listening listening to his mom cry and beg the psychologists to  fix him, to make him normal; he’d been quiet and numb then too, because even back then, even at eight, he’d known that while his mom loved him, he was too much like his dad and that was all she could see in his eyes.

Hal had shut down back then, and he shuts down now too.

The what-ifs are loud, an ever-present shouting in his mind that he can’t block out. He wonders what could have happened if he had been there, if he’d been on Earth when Barry had run so fast that his body had burned up. Could he have stopped it? Could his ring have saved Barry?

They haunt him almost as much as Barry does.

When the door to his apartment opens, Hal barely looks up from where he sits on the lumpy old couch, staring out the window and watching the cars zoom past. He’s used to it at this point, the comings and goings of his fellow Lanterns, so he just keeps staring, hoping that whoever came to watch him stew in his depression would leave him to it. That is, until his visitor speaks up.

“Uncle Hal.” Hal jerks, head snapping up and around at the young, wrecked voice. Wally looks horrible, and Hal isn’t surprised - though he does feel guilty that he had forgotten about the speedster that had once run at Barry’s side. Wally had been Iris and Barry’s son in all but blood, and then, after Zoom had killed Iris, he’d only had Barry.

Barry, and Hal, who hadn’t let Barry out of his sight if he could help it.

But Hal had forgotten - so caught up in himself that he forgot about the boy Barry had been raising. God - Wally wasn’t even twenty yet, and he’d lost both of the closest things to actual parents that weren’t pieces of rotting shit he’d ever had, and now he was stuck with  Hal of all people.

“Wally.” He croaks, stumbling to his feet with all the grace of a newborn colt. Wally is pale, almost gray, with dark circles under dull eyes; he looks like he hadn’t slept since Barry’s death. “Shit, kid - I -” Hal stutters slightly, guilt burning in his gut, “- I’m sorry.” For not being here. For not helping Barry. For not being on Earth. For not being there for him in the aftermath.

Wally’s smile is shaky, and almost heartbreaking to look at, “It’s okay.” The kid says, shrugging. He steps forward, wrapping his arms around Hal’s torso, and folds himself against the Lantern, pressing his forehead against Hal’s collarbone. “Nightwing told me you were planet-side.” The words aren’t even accusing, but God knows Hal deserved that and more. They just sound tired, a soul-deep exhaustion out of place in such a young man.

Hal lets out a shaky breath, holding the young man close. Shit, he’s horrible - leaving Wally on his own, and not even having the balls to tell him that he’d come back. “I’m sorry.” Hal says again, uselessly. “How’re you holding up?”

Wally lets out a shuddering sigh, “I’m holding.” He says, bitter amusement in his voice. “Jay’s been - he’s been running patrols.”

“Yeah.” Hal sighs. Alan had told him, during one of his earlier visits; at the time, it had angered Hal, knowing that someone other than Barry was protecting Central, but now he’s come to terms with it. Barry may be dead, but crime wouldn’t have stopped, no matter how much the twin cities adored the Flash.

“I -” Wally’s voice cuts off. He goes quiet, hesitates, and pulls back, fiddling with the heavy golden ring on his finger.

His Flash ring.

Green eyes flash, harden, then Wally meets his eyes head-on. “Jay can’t do it all.” Wally says, “He’s retired. But -” he grows hesitant, “- but the world needs a Flash.” He finishes quietly. “And it needs to be me.” Wally ducks his head again, and Hal’s heart thunders in his chest. “I - I just - I’m not  him. It feels wrong.”

It was inevitable, Hal knows, that Wally would become the Flash. Barry had always told him that his sidekick had always had potential, had the goodness inside of him needed to be a hero, that he would make an amazing Flash.

But he’d always hoped that Barry would be here to see it happen.

“You’re not Barry.” Hal finds himself saying, then he winces.  Way to go, Jordan, just fuck it up all over again. He scrambles to recover, “But you can’t get your confidence from  him.” Wally looks at him with sad green eyes, and Hal reaches forward, placing a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “You’ve got to find it in yourself, Wally. You’re the Flash now, and that name means something to people.” Hal lets out a slow breath, forcing himself away from the foggy cloud of numbness he had fallen into. “I know it’s going to be hard, it’s going to be a heavy weight to carry, a heavy legacy.” He thinks of Abin Sur, and the expectations that had come with being his  replacement. “Barry - he was - he was the best. Not just as a hero, but as a  human being . That’s a lot to live up to.” Wally nods, but Hal isn’t done yet. “But you know what kid? You’re gonna do it. You know why I know?”

“...No.” Wally whispers, voice thick, and Hal moves his hand to gently press against the kid’s cheek, like Barry’s had.

“Because  Barry believed in you.” Hal says with a surety that he hasn’t felt since the moment Diana had told him what had happened. “He knew you’d be great. Always said that you’d be better than him, and I believe him.”

“What if I can’t be?” Wally’s voice shakes miserably, eyes shiny with tears, “I’m  not Barry.”

“There’s not going to be another Barry, kid.” Hal’s words tear past his throat, shredding his heart with them, “He’s dead. You’re not Barry, because you’re  you.”

Barry’s dead. He’s dead and gone, and Hal wasn’t there for him. He’d promised that he’d be there for him, once, and had planned to keep that promise; but, well, everyone had always told him he had commitment issues, hadn’t they? That he broke promises as easily as breathing.

May as well live up to that.

[magdaclaire]

febuwhump day 8

can’t promise we’ll always see eye to eye (but i’ll try)

febuwhump day 8 prompt: “hey, hey, this is no time to sleep” @febuwhump

read it on ao3

“Hey, hey, hey, Timbo, this is no time to sleep, buddy, stay with me,” Jason says, tapping on the side of his Replacement’s face, wishing that, for once, Dickbag would pick up his calls. Big Bat is off-world and Stephanie is… Stephanie is useless anyway, in his opinion, but she’s in San Francisco, Jason is pretty sure, so extra useless for today. That’s gotta be why O called him anyway. Fuck. He has Tim curled up in his lap and he looks too goddamn small for words, too small to be a Robin and Jason tried to kill him a few months ago, a few short, short months ago and he doesn’t deserve to be slotting himself back into the family like Dick wants him to so badly. He deserves the way that Stephanie looks at him, the way that Tim usually slides away from him, not the way that Tim is leaning against him now. 

“J’son?” Tim slurs, eyes barely open as he tips his head up at Jason reluctantly, but it’s enough. The worry cocktails with the constant backburner rage unpleasantly, makes him want to throw the Pretender and run, cut and leave before he does something drastic and stupid, stupid stupid. Tim is fifteen and he’s gonna have hypothermia if you don’t take him to Alfred, Jason, he’s gonna have permanent damage if you don’t step up, Jason, what are you gonna do, leave him on the street, Jason, let someone else get their hands on him, Jason, let someone else touch him, Jason, let someone else get their dirty hands on your little brother, Jason, would Dick ever-

Dick isn’t here. Jason has to be. 

“I’m here, Timbo, you gotta stay with me, bud. Alfie is gonna have my ass if you fall asleep before I get you home,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of the Pretender’s forehead absentmindedly, because it was the one thing both Catherine and Bruce both did when he was smaller and sicker and so so young. Fuck, he doesn’t have a car. Just the motorcycle. Timbit is only 5’6, maybe a buck fifty, muscle included. He’ll lose the body heat that Jason has recollected him, but he can get him to the manor on the front of the bike. It just won’t be too pretty. 

“We’re gonna have to take the bike, babybird. You’re gonna have to get on the bike with me,” Jason coaxes, so much gentler than he thought he knew how to be, and the pit wants to climb the back of his mind, but he pushes it down. He pushes down green, fire, rage, dark in a way that he didn’t think he could because Tim needs him. He has fear crawling up his throat and his leather jacket wrapped around Tim’s shoulders like a blanket (it’s so much bigger than Tim’s shoulders, so much bigger than his tiny, tiny frame can hold), and he can push it down. He can push it down until he can hand Tim over to Alfred and know that Tim is fucking safe and then he can go kill someone and set everything fucking right. 

Everything is gonna be fucking fine. 

Tim whines when he tries to get the kid up and Jason almost starts crying out of secondhand frustration, but that is neither here nor there. The spike of anger that he has to push down he ignores, because that’s not relevant. He scoops the kid up and grabs his other jacket, because of course it’s November in Gotham when the kid is also hit by Dr. Freeze without Batman (because Batman lets him go on patrols while he’s offworld because Batman is a fucking idiot but if Jason thinks about that at all he’ll have to go kill someone with little Robin in tow). 

“J’son,” Tim whines when he sets him down for a second, shivering deeply on the couch while Jason puts on his own jacket. Jason shrugs on his jacket faster than he ever has in his life. 

The motorcycle ride across town is unpleasant as Jason worries about his cargo, making sure that Tim is secured against his chest, making sure that Tim is safe, making sure that Tim is warm. His skin is still cold to the touch, which is expected but so, so worrying, and he’s so much smaller than Jason was at that age, and he’s seen pictures of Dick at fifteen and he’s smaller than Dick was too; there’s no reason for him to be so thin. Not and be Robin. But he has to pull out of those thoughts because all roads lead back to the rage because he’ll think about how Bruce let this kid - and no. Not when Tim is right here. Pulling into the Cave entrance is familiar, easy, even when he doesn’t as much as the “family” wants him to, as much as Dick wants him to, at least. If Dick wanted him to do anything, he’d pick up the goddamn phone. Alfred is waiting for him when he comes out of the garage section of the Cave. 

“Hey Alf,” Jason greets automatically. Alfred smiles at him just like he did when he was a kid, pure and good and kind, and Jason aches inside. He forgets to address the elephant in the Cave. 

“Master Jason, this is unexpected. What brings you - Oh,” recognition washes over him as he realizes exactly what- who rather is wrapped up in Jason’s jacket. “Do come along, then,” Alfred says, bringing him to the medical area. 

“He got hit by Dr. Freeze. He’s not frostbitten yet, I found him pretty soon after, but he’s not in good condition; I think he might have fell when he was hit and he might have a concussion. He needs a general looking over, and I don’t know how to do that,” Jason explains, and it hits him all at once that he is very much eighteen years old, despite everything. Despite the bravado, despite dying, despite the Red Hood, despite Batman, despite Robin, he’s eighteen years old. He’s never fallen in love or filed taxes or gone on a date or finished high school or been to a wedding or toured a college or done anything, and he fucking died when he was fifteen and he never got to mourn that and he just carried his little brother home to their Dad’s house because he almost died too and he’s not here. 

“I’m gonna call Dick again. And, um. Bruce. I know he’s off world. But uh. I still wanna call him. I’m gonna call him,” he says to Tim and Alfred and the room at large and maybe himself, because his throat just won’t clear, and he feels like he’s gonna cry. 

Why does he keep feeling like he’s gonna cry? He hasn’t cried since he died. 

Dick doesn’t pick up the fucking phone. How fucking typical. 

“Hey Dickie? Um, I just got to the manor. Alfred is taking care of Tim, he’s gonna be okay. I. I just fucking realized that I haven’t dealt with the fact that I fucking died and I kinda need my big brother right now so if you could pick up the phone that would be stellar. Thanks!” 

He hangs up with a big smile for no one and doesn’t throw his phone across the room, so he counts that as a big win, thank you very much, counselor from the ninth grade. Fuck you very much indeed. Member of the family. What fucking family? Can’t be a fucking family without anybody fucking here, Dickard. Don’t be angry, don’t be angry. If Dick isn’t here, he can’t be here for the kid. Somebody has to be here for the kid, and Alfie can’t do it alone. Don’t be angry. Can’t afford it. 

You already tried to kill him once, Jaybird. Not again. 

Then, he calls one of the only people he knows with an off-world phone number. 

“Hood? Is Gotham secure?” Hal Jordan says, answering on the first ring, unlike some people. They must be in transit then. Yeah okay. 

“Batman around? I figured he wouldn’t answer his own phone,” Jason says, infusing his voice with bravado. Hal doesn’t need to hear his quaking post death realizations (No one else does either, a green voice inside him reminds him, but he pushes it down, reminding himself that he has bigger fish to fry), so he’s gotta pull it together. Hal laughs. 

“Don’t I know it. Sometimes can’t even get him on the line for the League. B! Hood’s on the line for you,” Hal says, clearly in better spirits than Jason has heard him in… maybe ever. He doesn’t talk to Hal Jordan much though. There isn’t much reason to. He braces himself to talk to the big man. 

“Hood?” Bruce’s timbre cracks through the communicator and it reminds Jason of being a child, just like pretty much everything else that’s happened today. Somehow, he makes Hood sound like Lad, like affection, like something he hasn’t had for Jason since he put him in a pine box in the ground, and god. 

“Dad,” Jason whispers despite himself, despite the whispers in his head that always remind him that Bruce let him die, that Bruce let his killer walk, that Bruce never loved him, never wanted him, never saved him. He hears Bruce gasp over the phone. Jason clears his throat. 

“Tim got hit by Dr. Freeze. I got him to the manor, Alfred is taking care of him. He’s going to be okay. When you get back on world, we’re going to have a talk about Robin patrolling alone. And we’re going to have a talk about the fact that I - that I died. A real one. For now, I’m gonna go back in and help Alfie take care of my little brother. You come home safe, alright, old man? You die out there, I’ll fuckin’ kill you, okay?” he says, and he grins roughly when Bruce laughs, a ragged but honest sound. 

“Yes. Okay. Goodbye, Hood. I will see in Gotham,” Bruce says, as much as he’s willing to say in front of other Leaguers, but enough. Jason swallows down the green and the last bits of rage and the nothing inside of him. It’s enough. 

“See you, Bruce.” 

[heytherejulietx]

Sleepy Kisses ~ Bughead

Masterlists

Requests are OPEN

Read on AO3 here.

Notes - This is something taken out of my Wattpad book, which you can find here! I’d really appreciate if you could go and check it out, it’d mean a lot!

Warnings - None.

Word Count - 1.2k.

One of Jughead's favourite times of day was the morning. Sometimes he could be super lazy and just stay in bed until Betty dragged him out for school or woke him up because she was bored. Though his favourite mornings were when he woke up before Betty, or just didn't sleep at all just watching the blonde angel in his arms sleep.

The sun shining through Betty's pink sheer curtains cast a warm glow across the familiar bedroom, though a crack in the fabric had a slither of light laying right across Jughead's eyes. It took a moment of it being there before his eyelids fluttered underneath the bright light, blue eyes tiredly dancing around the room after a moment. Once he'd come to his senses, his attention was cast down on the girl in the bed with him.

Betty's hair was splayed out in golden waves across the pillow. She was mostly laying on her back, with her side pressed against Jughead's. She had an arm laying over her stomach whilst her other was around Jughead's waist; her legs also tangled with his underneath the sheets.

Jughead slowly moved onto his side so he wouldn't wake Betty up. One of his arms was underneath her pillow, fingers brushing along her shoulder. Whilst his other was free - allowing himself to brush his fingers through the golden strands across the pillow.

The boy often took every opportunity he could to admire her beauty - whether that was staring at her in class or across the booth from each other at Pop's with Archie and Veronica. Though he definitely took his time with his admiration when she was still asleep, drinking up every ounce of the serotonin that was given by just seeing her.

At first he let his eyes linger on the skin of her cheeks, which was practically glowing because of the lighting in room. Slowly he dragged his gaze up to her hair, which was so soft against his fingers that had continued to move through it. After a moment he let his eyes linger on her pink lips - the lips he adored kissing every moment he could. They were slightly parted in her sleep, the corners curved ever so slightly, making it look like she was smiling. He let himself focus on the blotches of red and purple that had dotted over her neck and collarbones - almost feeling smug that he was the one who had left them there.

The only feature of hers that he couldn't see, the one that was definitely holding a spot at his favourite, were her deep green eyes. He could get sucked into the emerald orbs at any moment that he looked at her. He dived in whenever she looked at him with love, drowning in the sea of green when her pupils dilated slightly and lust was filling her gaze instead.

Almost like Betty knew what he was waiting to see, her eyes fluttered not too long after he'd started watching her, having to blink a few times before she could look up at her boyfriend with a smile so soft he felt himself melting there and then.

"Morning Juggie."

God, her voice. He could sit listening to her for hours. Though when she was as soft spoken and gentle as she was then, he was putty in her hands and light at her touch.

"Good morning, love." He muttered back, his own voice a little deeper with sleep as he'd leaned down to let his slightly chapped lips press against her forehead. "How'd you sleep?"

"Amazing." Betty smiled a little more. She'd always insisted that her sleep was much better when she was granted it whilst in Jughead's arms. Jughead knew she was telling the truth - as his best nights of sleep always happened to come around when Betty Cooper was right beside him.

Jughead's eyes fluttered closed when Betty had lifted her hand up, her knuckles tracing along his cheekbones, before the soft hand settled with cupping his face instead. He'd die a happy man if his last moments were spent at the feather-light touches of his beautiful girlfriend.

"Did you sleep okay?"

It wasn't unknown to him that Betty got worried whenever he was awake before her. She knew sometimes he just couldn't fall asleep, and sometimes he just couldn't stay asleep for long. After they'd spent the night in the forest at the hands of Penelope Blossom, Betty had spent countless nights with Jughead as he'd had nightmares over that night, and for the most part it ended the same; Jughead waking up in sweat and tears, engulfed in Betty's arms as he cried and sniffled about how in the dream things had ended differently. How Hal had shot Betty right through the chest. Or how they hadn't gotten the antidote and she'd died in his arms. Every terrifying nightmare or most horrible fear was based around the same thing: losing Betty Cooper. So she couldn't help but worry whenever he couldn't sleep.

Though at her question Jughead just smiled and nodded his head. "Yeah, I just woke up because the sun was on my face." He chuckled quietly.

As he spoke the boy had moved his hand from out of her hair to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. The blonde had responded with moving a hand up to the back of his neck and pulling him closer, incredibly close. Their noses brushed together before their lips met, moving slowly but sweetly against each other's. Neither of them made a move to deepen it - just enjoying the gentleness of it.

Jughead was the first one to pull away; letting out a soft exhale as a warm smile made it's way over his lips, looking down at the beauty in his arms. She smiled back at him and he swore he could feel his heart stop for a short moment as his breath hitched.

If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that nobody would ever be more beautiful than his Betty Cooper.

"Juggie?" Betty had mumbled, a more entertained smile tugging at her pink lips. "You're staring again."

At that Jughead had chuckled, shaking this head as he looked down at her. "Sorry, love." He muttered, leaving another kiss against her lips before looking back at her. "Can't help myself."

Betty only giggled in response, her arm tightening around him.

After a second Jughead had turned to lay on his back, though in the same moment he'd tightened his arm around Betty's waist so she'd be brought with him. The blonde relaxed once she was laying on top of him, her head tucking into the crook of his neck as she wrapped her arms around his torso, feeling his own snake around her waist.

"I love you." Betty whispered against his skin, causing him to smile as he let his lips linger on her temple.

"I love you more." He muttered back, and in that moment he'd never been so sure that his love for her was greater than her love for him. It was just impossible.

Another kiss was left against her head before Jughead's eyes had closed again and his head fell back against the pillow, letting himself enjoy a sleepy moment with his girlfriend before they had to get up and start their day.

[whoopsiedaisiesandwhimsy]

A Series of Adorable Events (chapter 1)

Virgil opened his eyes and, for a moment, frantically threw his arms in front of his face, bracing for an impact that he somehow knew wasn’t coming. He marveled at how quickly his panic melted away; it had never left that easily before. It was almost as though it had nothing to hold onto. With an eerily calm demeanor, Virgil ran through what he remembered about the last few minutes. 

He’d been driving. The turn. And then the other car…. The impact had come after all. And he….

Well he was dead, then, wasn’t he? 

Taking notice of his surroundings, he wondered where he was. This didn’t look like where he’d hoped he would end up. It didn’t look like the other place either. No, it looked… familiar. The ash blue walls. Hallways and hallways of doors. And the cribs. His eyes scanned over them, trying to remember which one had been his.

Pulling the sleeves of his hoodie over his palms, he stood, looking into each crib as he passed it. Most of the babies were asleep. One or two were awake, gazing into the space beyond Virgil’s head and cooing softly. They didn’t see him standing over them, he realized. It made sense. He didn’t remember seeing any dead twenty-somethings wandering around when he’d still been alive. Still, he did wonder about a few things. Why was he here of all places? He’d never believed in ghosts, but he’d heard stories of people who did, and they tended to say that ghosts haunted the buildings they’d been killed in. Virgil had died on the road. In a car accident. But his wondering was cut off as he reached one of the last cribs. 

Big brown eyes stared up at him. 

Straight at him.

The baby blinked. So did Virgil. Virgil moved to one side, and the baby’s eyes followed him. He moved back to where he was, and again, the little boy held his eyes. 

This kid could see him. 

That wasn’t supposed to happen, right? Not that Virgil was any authority, but none of the other babies seemed to notice his presence. 

The little boy smiled, and raised his arms playfully, little fingers uncurling and reaching up toward Virgil. The ghost smiled gently, forgetting his concerns and lowering a finger into the crib for the baby to grab. 

“I swear, Logan! He looked right at me!” the loud voice shocked Virgil, and he scrambled away from the crib.

“Patton, I told you. That’s not possible. You must be mistaken,”

The voices were coming closer. It didn’t matter that they probably wouldn’t be able to see him; Virgil’s instincts screamed at him to hide. So that's what he did, crawling under one of the other cribs and somehow managing to fit his entire body in the small space. 

“I am not! You’ll see.” Virgil saw two sets of feet round the corner, and walk right up to the little brown eyed boy’s crib.

Patton had fully expected the little baby to look up at him. What he hadn’t expected was for the baby to then look at Logan.

“Um,” Logan stalled, for once at a loss of what to say. Patton ran with it.

“Told you he could see us,” he said, leaning over the crib and making funny faces at the baby, who cooed merrily. Logan grabbed him by the shoulders and wrenched him away from the crib, making Patton hold his eyes.

“No, you said he could see you. That was impossible enough. But him seeing me is on another level,”

“How so?” Patton asked. 

“Ghosts can learn to control whether they are visible to humans at any given time. A skill which you do not yet possess, but is entirely impossible for me,”

“Soooo,”

“I’m not a visible construct, Patton! This is scientifically impossible!”

“I hear ya, but, well…” Patton shrugged. Logan grabbed his wrist and started to drag him out of the room. “We’re leaving?”

“Not entirely. We need to discuss this properly, and it is likely that I will end up using language that is inappropriate for an infant to hear,”

“Oh,” Patton said and then he was swept out into the hallway.

There was another man in the room, and he was confused. More so than he had been in probably a thousand years. He stood in the corner, watching as the other two left from where they had been. Standing over his newest charge. 

The baby.

It had never been a baby before. 

He stayed where he was, enveloped in the shadows he’d entered from, and contemplated his responsibilities. There had never been others before. Sure, he often had to do his job surrounded by humans, but never any others. 

And usually by now, he knew why he was there.

He scratched the scales that coated his left arm. This was going to be another one of those jobs, wasn’t it?

He was about to step forward and look into the crib for himself, when something new surprised him. A young man crawled out from under one of the cribs. He looked around cautiously, his eyes passing over the man in the shadows, before making his way over to the door, looking down at the baby briefly on his way. But he didn’t leave. Just hid behind the door frame and tried to hear the men in the hall. 

He could see them, which meant he must not be quite human either. The man in the shadows weighed his options. He could make his presence known, though the thought made him uneasy, and hope that he’d be able to carry out his purpose despite the complicated circumstances. Alternatively, he could leave, and take the punishment he knew would follow. But that was a sickening thought, and one he was not proud of. But maybe he could still do things his way. He could be silent enough that, as long as the young man didn’t turn around, he could get to the child and… and what? He still didn’t know what he was meant to do. He couldn’t make a deal with a baby. But the infant was definitely the one he was here for. 

Either way, standing around doing nothing was not productive. He shuffled silently over to the crib, not raising any suspicion from the other in the room. The baby looked up at him intently. 

So you can see me too, then, huh? The man thought. Then he remembered the scales that covered half his face, and his eye, whose pupil was a thin black slit. He braced himself, waiting for the child to cry and alert the others. 

But the cries never came. The boy just yawned and cooed, squeezing his tiny fists. The man was shocked. He smiled warmly. 

Ok, little brave one. I’ll do my best for you.

But now another complication arose, as if there weren’t enough. He could hear humming coming up the stairs. He took the example of his unknowing companion and dove under one of the adjacent cribs. The young man apparently also heard their third party, because he took cover in the same way. Which meant that they were now face to face. The younger reacted in abject shock, but the scaled man held up a finger, hoping his point would be clear enough.

You don’t give me away, I don’t give you away. 

Roman hummed goodnaturedly to himself, having no real intentions as he followed his feet wherever they might take him tonight. He bounded up the orphanage stairs with a musical beat and entered a large room lined wall to wall with cribs.

Babies!

He loved babies. Really, he loved humans in general, but babies were so small and curious! Their little hands always grew to create things, and tiny feet learned to walk, to take them on grand adventures. But even before all of that they were just so gosh darned cute!

He started to sing. A lullaby he’d learned in a language that was no longer used, but it still sounded pretty. The children couldn’t hear it, he knew, but he still hoped it was worth it. Maybe the song would make its way into their dreams that night. He was so engulfed in the melody that he didn’t notice the two men stalled at the door, nor the two huddled under the cribs, all listening. But when one of the infants started to cry, that got his attention. He walked over to the crib and glanced down at its tiny occupant. The baby looked up at him, and stopped crying. Roman’s eyes grew wide. 

“You… can you see me?”

“Evidently, he can.” Roman heard a voice behind him and turned around swiftly. A man in a black shirt and blue tie peered at him critically through a pair of black rimmed glasses. Beside him, a man in blue with a grey hoodie tied around his neck displayed a far less intimidating demeanor. “Based on that data, I believe it is safe to hypothesize that this child is able to see most, if not all non-human entities that exist,” 

“You’re not human too?” Roman asked, realization hitting him the second it left his mouth. Of course they weren’t. They could see him.

“Well, I used to be,” the one in blue raised his hand somewhat shyly.

“Yes. This is Patton, and my name is Logan,”

“Roman,” Roman provided. 

“Pleased to meet you, Roman,” the one in blue, Patton by name apparently, greeted. 

“And you, sir,” Roman replied. 

The one called Logan spoke again. “I believe a course of action, if any action at all, should be decided on. The child-,”

“Thomas.” Patton was looking down at the crib now. “His name’s Thomas.” Indeed, the word was there, painted in bright colors along the outer edge of the crib. 

“Ah, I see. Thomas,” Logan continued. “Could potentially be put in danger by this ability,”

“Danger?”

 “Yes. Not all non-humans are benevolent,”

“I’ll protect him,” Roman promised. It was a promise he intended to keep. If this child could see him, well then Roman would like to believe it was destiny. He decided that little Thomas would never be alone as long as he lived. Roman would see to that.

“Protect him? You intend to stay with him at all times?” Logan asked, surprised.

“Well, yes if that’s what it takes,”

“I don’t think we should leave him, Logan. What if he gets hurt? Or lonely?” Patton added. “What if he needs us?”

Logan looked between Roman and Patton for a few moments, his eyes landing on Patton and staying there for a while before he dropped his face into his palm.

“Oh my god, there’s two of you now,”

Patton smiled brightly. 

“I suppose there’s no reason for me to stay hidden.” A new voice caught the focus of the room, and they all whipped around to find the source. Patton yelped in surprise, and Roman flat out screeched from alarm. Half of the man’s face was covered in scales, and his left eye was that of a snake.

Roman drew a sword that didn’t appear to have come from anywhere in particular. “Who are you?” He demanded, placing himself between the man and Thomas’s crib. The man calmly raised his hands, looking a bit disappointed. 

“Would you like a name, or an explanation?”

“Um… both,” Roman said, uncertainly. 

“Which first?” 

“Uh.” He looked back at Patton and Logan, who shrugged in perfect unison. “Name,”

“For the purpose of a name, you may call me De. As for an explanation, it’s a bit hard to sum up, but you do need to know that I am here for the benefit of that child you’re guarding,”

“In what way?” Logan stepped forward. 

“To… protect him,” De finally decided. It wasn’t quite word for word. He was meant to show up before disaster was unavoidable and offer a deal. A get-out-of-pain-not-quite-free card. But he threw all of that out the door this time. This time he knew for sure, protecting was the right choice.

It would earn him another scale, but it was worth it.

Patton slid from his place behind Logan’s shoulder over to the crib as the discussion took form around him. Roman wanted to know if they could trust the new man. Logan wanted to know what exactly he was, and what his idea of protecting might entail. De seemed to just want to placate everyone. But Patton just wanted to play with baby Thomas. They all seemed like they’d forgotten he was there. 

He lowered a hand into the crib and tickled the baby’s belly, his eyes lighting up when Thomas took a finger in each of his tiny fists. It had been so long since he got to play with a baby. When he’d died, all of his children had kids of their own, but that was so long ago. Now all of those kids had grandbabies, and Patton couldn’t hold a single one of them. All these years, he’d stayed away, and it hurt to do so, but he knew from experience that it was far worse to pretend he was still alive. Still really with all of them. But this little one could see him. Touch him. And Patton was already in love. 

A slight movement caught the corner of his attention. He followed it, and found a pair of eyes staring at him behind plum colored bangs. The young man was huddled behind one of the other cribs, watching the scene with apprehension. He glanced down at the baby nervously. Patton smiled. 

“Logan,” he called, interrupting the discourse. “We have a new friend,”

All eyes fell on the young man, who stood slowly, trading hiding behind a crib for hiding inside his large hoodie. 

“Please, will someone tell me what’s going on?” He asked. Patton beckoned him to join the small circle, and he stepped forward suspiciously, pulling at his sleeves. “I heard someone say one of you is a ghost?”

“Yours truly,” Patton raised his free hand. 

“Why am I here?”

“What do you mean, kiddo?”

“I… I didn’t die here. I died in a car accident!”

Patton’s mouth formed a perfect o, and he gently freed himself from Thomas’s grip, going to stand by the frantic youth. 

“When did you die?”

“A-a few… minutes ago. Before you and, um, Logan showed up,”

Observant. 

“Do you recognize where you are? Ghosts usually haunt the place that felt most like home to them,”

“I grew up here,”

Patton’s heart went out to this kid. No wonder he was so rattled. 

“What’s your name?”

“Virgil,”

“Alrighty, Virgil. I’m going to help you, ok? I went through the same stuff myself. You can trust me.” Patton held out his hand, and after a moment of consideration, Virgil took it, letting Patton lead him over to the crib. They looked down at Thomas smiling up at them, and Patton saw Virgil relax.

“I don’t think this day could get weirder,” Virgil remarked.

“It CAN get weirder!” mocked a voice from the ceiling. 

Roman’s scream rang in Patton’s ears.

They all looked up at the… thing… clinging to the ceiling. It let go until it was hanging by one claw, changing slowly into a man whose appearance was no less off-putting, and finally let go and landed on the floor with a thud. Virgil clung to Patton’s arm. 

“The heck is that!?”

“No idea,”

“Party don’t start till I walk in,” the stranger answered, as if that was enough information. Five sets of eyes stared blankly.

“Ugh, I guess you guys all have names, right? Lemme see.” He began to point at them one by one. “Logan, Patton, Virgil… your name is soooo not De, aaaaand Roman. Wait!” His eyes grew wide as he got an idea. “Roman, Rome… ooooooo can I be Remus? Call me Remus!”

Roman stepped back in disgust. 

Logan recovered first. “What do humans call you?”

“Oh that,” he laughed. “They call me a lot of things. Bigfoot, Chupacabra, Nessie. They like coming up with stuff like that,”

“Cryptids?” Virgil asked. 

“There’s another one!”

“You’re a shapeshifter,” Patton realized.

“Um,” Remus changed back into the form he’d entered in and then returned to his humanoid form. “Duh?” 

“Oh. Yeah,”

“So you’ve clearly been listening for a significant time,” Logan piped up. “What are your intentions?”

“Intentions? Nah, you give me too much credit. I was just bored, and frankly you wet blankets are making it worse. But this little dimple-,” Before any of the others could react, Remus turned into a jet black cat and lept into Thomas’s crib. “Was worth the perilous three story climb,” he tickled the baby with his whiskers. Thomas giggled, and the cat laid across his belly, dangling his tail just out of reach. Patton went up to the crib and reached in, intent on separating the shapeshifter from the baby. Remus arched his back and hissed loudly, threatening Patton against coming any closer. The ghost stumbled back, and Roman stepped in front of him, sword at the ready. But then Thomas began to cry. Remus was startled. He looked down in concern. Tears pooled in the baby’s eyes, and Remus backed into the corner of the crib, feeling guilty. He looked up at Patton.

“Fix it,”

Patton looked apprehensive, but he obeyed, picking up Thomas and rocking him gently until the crying stopped. 

Remus changed back, still in the crib. It was so small that his attempt to sit criss crossed had his knees up to his chin. 

“We are still lacking a course of action,” Logan complained.

“Do you want to hold him?” Patton offered. Logan’s eyes grew wide, and he stepped away, shaking his head and holding his hands out defensively. “How about you, Virgil?”

“Oh, um… sure?” Virgil replied. Patton smiled and handed the baby over, showing Virgil how to hold him so they’d both be comfortable. The young ghost smiled. 

“Ok,” De spoke up. “By show of hands, who isn’t going to leave the kid alone?”

Patton’s hand shot up almost faster than Roman’s, Virgil shyly followed, and Remus raised more hands than he had before the question was presented. Logan looked away in an attempt to look irritated, but he wasn’t fooling anyone.

So this is the disaster I was supposed to stop, De thought. He could see this poor kid getting visits from people no one else could see. Trying to tell someone only to be called crazy. Resigned to his fate, he raised his hand, joining the haphazard group. 

“All of you? Really?” Logan asked. “Fine. The voice of reason has no place in this arrangement, but I suppose someone has to keep you all in line,”

 Patton smiled knowingly, trying not to chuckle, and De had to hold in a snort at the scene. 

“So, what now?” Roman questioned.

De spoke up. “Staying has its risks. Even visiting occasionally is a gamble. If Thomas grows up surrounded by people that no one else can see, and decides at some point to tell someone, that could put him in any number of bad situations,”

“But lots of kids grow up with imaginary friends,” Patton countered.

“And most grow out of that phase,” De explained.

Patton’s eyes dropped. “So you’re saying we should leave him?”

“Hey, I had my hand up, didn’t I?”

Surprisingly, Virgil was the next to speak up. “Does he have to stay?” he asked quietly, almost internally, still gazing down at the baby in his arms. The others looked at him in shock. The silence told Virgil that they’d heard him, and his eyes shot up. “I… I grew up here,” he defended himself. “It’s… not safe,”

“What do you mean?” Patton asked. The building seemed clean and friendly. He couldn’t imagine how it could be dangerous.

“I ran away once. I think I was five. I left in the morning and had to find my way back in the dark because no one came looking,”

Patton’s hands shot up to cover his mouth. His heart broke for the young man. How could someplace like that ever feel like home?

“They didn’t know you were lost?” Roman asked. Virgil shook his head. Humans had their failings, Roman knew that, but he’d never encountered such neglect to a helpless child. The injustice of it burned in his core. “Thomas cannot stay here,”

“Sick,” Remus remarked. “Always wanted to steal a baby,”

Roman whirled around and fixed the shapeshifter in a glare of pure disbelief. “What even are you?!”

“Oh get over it! Everybody already thinks I do! And people love being right!”

“Can we not bring him with please?” Roman asked, turning to the others.

“I don’t believe there is a way to stop him,” Logan admitted.

“Nope!” Remus answered gleefully. “Sorry goody-flat-ass, y'all are stuck with me,”

“Excuse me!?”

“Back to the matter at hand, if you gentlemen don’t mind,” De interrupted before the conflict could escalate. 

“Gentleman my backside,” Roman mumbled, but conceded to silence.

“Sure thing, snakeface,” Remus teased. 

“Thank you.” De ignored the attempted insult, settling for the fact that Remus had agreed at all. Remus looked at De like he’d just thrown up a couch. “If not here, where?” De asked.

“Patton,” Logan prompted the ghost.

“Oh. Oh! You’re right, Lo,” Patton said, apparently remembering something. Dee marveled at how two such opposites could seemingly read each other’s minds. “I have a house! Kinda,”

“Would you like to tell them how you obtained this place?” Logan continued, barely concealing the smirk in his eyes. 

“Oh,” Patton blushed, then started giggling. “It was an accident. Well, actually, it was a couple of accidents. I moved into the family’s guest room. I didn’t want to make a nuisance of myself, but, well… they kept moving the furniture. I was tripping over everything. Eventually they sold the house, and  then the same thing happened with the next family, a nice couple with three dogs, and the next and the next…. The realtors gave up,” he finished, rubbing the back of his neck and blushing furiously. Virgil laughed lightly. 

“The size is sufficient for raising a child, and has been functionally off the grid since the generator was installed. In theory, we would just need to be able to purchase the necessities.” Logan pulled out a notepad and began to write. 

“Probably could shop online for a lot of it,” Virgil provided. 

“We would need a debit card,” 

“What about mine?” the young ghost continued.

“Technicalities of identity theft from beyond the grave aside, how are your savings?”

“Eh,”

“We would need a way to make money,”

“Um,” Roman’s voice turned everyone’s heads. He held up his hand, a hundred dollar bill appearing between his fingers. 

“Wow,” Virgil commented, summing up the general attitude of the room. Roman pursed his lips and shrugged.

“There goes the value of the American dollar,” Logan grumbled.

“Or I could get a job, losers.” No one expected Remus to speak up. Less expected was his appearance. His salt and pepper hair was neatly brushed, his face was clean and reasonably charming to look at, and he wore a pale green button down tucked into ash colored jeans. Everyone stared.

“What?” Remus questioned, returning to normal.

“Let me get this straight,” Roman said, stepping forward. “You have the option of looking like that… and you choose to look like this?”

“What of it, pretty boy?”

“Good lord, you will never make sense,”

“Aww! Thank you!”

Roman pinched the bridge of his nose and walked away, waving a hand as if to swat away Remus’s chaos. 

“Well I suppose that takes care of finances,” Logan continued, picking up where he’d left off. “Schooling won’t be an issue for a few years, but I can conduct homeschool classes when Thomas is old enough,”

“There are a few more precautions to take,” De said. 

“Undoubtedly,”

“Get out of the crib, Remus. Help me find the offices.” De set off down the halls, shapeshifter at his heels. 

“Alright.” Patton lifted Thomas out of Virgil’s arms and transferred him over to a protesting Logan. “Come on Virgil,”

“Where are we going?” Virgil asked, following anyway. 

“Gotta teach you how to leave the building,”

“Huh?” They turned the corner and Patton skipped down the stairs two at a time. 

“Ghosts haunt one building at first after they die. The one that feels like home,” Patton explained. He wanted to ask Virgil why this place was home if it was so horrible, but he held his tongue. 

“Wait, so I can’t leave?” Virgil slowed down, stopping in the middle of the hallway. 

Patton turned around and walked back to him. “No, you can, you just need to learn. Some ghosts stay where they are, but a lot learn to leave. Usually they either go haunt people they had issues with in life, or just wander around, doing anything they want,”

“What did you do?”

That caught Patton off guard. He blinked like a deer in headlights for a moment or two, before sighing. 

“I tried to go home,” he admitted wistfully. “I had children. And grandchildren. I thought… I thought I could just be around them and pretend. But it hurt too much,”

Virgil looked at him sympathetically. Patton put his smile back on. 

“It's lucky that you and I found Thomas. He’ll need people who know what it’s like to be human,”

“You think he needs me?”

Patton tilted his head. “Of course, Virgil. Why wouldn’t he?”

“It’s just,” Virgil curled in on himself, hiding in his hoodie again. “I never had family. I barely even had friends. What if I can’t? What if I ruin everything?” 

His rambling was cut off when Patton engulfed him in a hug. Virgil tensed, but Patton persisted. Slowly, Virgil melted into the embrace, pressing his face into Patton’s shoulder. After a few long moments, Patton spoke gently.

“Some ghosts use death as a place to start over from. You have family now. I promise,”

The young ghost held tighter, and Patton started to gently rub circles on the back of Virgil’s neck. It was something he used to do to calm his son down. 

Some time later, the hug came to an end, and Patton rested a hand on Virgil's shoulder. 

“Come on,” Patton prompted. “Let's get you out of here,”

Logan was entirely unprepared to be holding a baby. Leave it to Patton to put him in a situation like this. 

No string of decades in Logan's incomparable span of existence had ever felt longer than the years since he’d met Patton. Or since Patton had stumbled upon his existence, more accurately. Since that day, the over friendly ghost had barely ever left him alone. He’d been summoned to Patton’s side more times than he could count; the man had unfortunately pieced together rather quickly that shouting false information would call Logan to him. Logan almost wished that he didn’t care so much about the spread of incorrect facts, an aspect of his purpose that he had no control over. 

He almost wished that he didn’t care so much about Patton. 

Patton was lonely. Dangerously so. Logan didn’t really understand human emotions, but he could recognize symptoms. So, when Patton muttered that the Earth was flat through tears at three in the morning, Logan might roll his eyes, but he always stayed. 

And he always would.

But looking down at the baby in his arms, he could almost pretend that this was the last straw. 

Roman took pity on him. “Ok, so you have no chill,” he laughed, lifting Thomas from Logan’s arms and sitting on the nursery floor. Logan remained standing, watching Roman’s effortless interaction with the infant. “You should do something for that. Would you be more of a yoga class guy or a go-out-in-the-woods-and-slay-something guy?”

“Neither, I can assure you,”

Roman looked up at him critically for a moment, before shrugging. “No, you’re right. I’ll figure something else out,”

“Might I ask what exactly you are?” Logan asked, eager to change the subject.

 “Oh,”

“I don’t mean to be rude,”

“I’m not offended. It's just that I don’t really know. I was alone at first. For hundreds of years, just wandering around. I didn’t know I was supposed to be something. I found out eventually that there was at least one thing I wasn’t. Human. I wanted to be, though. So badly. Sometimes I still do,” he said solemnly, bouncing Thomas on his knee. 

Logan was taken aback. Roman didn’t act with any of the weight of his years.

 “I learned a lot. Songs and stories. Cultures and languages. And so many words. Words for everything under the sun,”

“Yes,” Logan mused. “They have fascinating ways of understanding their world.” An unexpected respect for Roman made a home in Logan’s mind. He hadn’t expected to have anything in common with him.

“Do you think it’s our world, too?” Roman asked, catching Logan off guard. The bespectacled man found that he couldn’t answer. Roman smiled weakly. “They have a word for everything I wish I was. Knight. Prince. Hero. Not one word in any language for what I am,”

They sat in silence for a long moment. Logan was again at a loss for words. Then Roman spoke again, this time to the baby in his lap. 

“It’s your world, isn’t it, little prince? You’ll make the most of that, I just know.” He gently kissed the top of Thomas’s head, and then began to sing. 

The lullaby began in Spanish, before shifting effortlessly into Latin, and then a language Logan didn’t recognize. Roman’s voice was deep and smooth, and soon, the baby was asleep. 

Noise started to come from down the hall as Roman’s singing tapered off. Remus rounded the corner, followed by De. 

“Yeah, Dirty Jobs got nuthin on my average Saturday. You haven’t lived until you’ve lost a limb to a trash compactor, ” Remus bragged. De listened calmy, not interrupting. It baffled Logan that De could stand to hear the endless stream of drivel that came tumbling, unbidden, out of Remus’s mouth. But De was unbothered, only shushing Remus when he noticed that Thomas was asleep. 

“What were you two doing?” Roman asked.

“We found the offices. I deleted the orphanage's records of Thomas, and Remus ate the paper copies.” Remus burped to prove De’s point. “Where are the other two?”

“Patton is teaching Virgil how to leave his haunt,” Logan said. “That is the last thing that needs to be done,”

“Well let's go join them,”

Patton stood just outside the orphanage door, letting Virgil have his moment of frustration as he pressed his palms against the invisible barrier keeping him inside. “I can’t do it. It won’t move,”

“It’s not supposed to move, kiddo. You’re gonna go through it,”

“How?” Virgil asked without a hint of optimism.

“Well, here,” Patton said, stepping back inside. “Logan explained it like this when he taught me. The building you wake up in is where you’ve felt the most at home. The barrier is there to keep you in that safe space, and it won’t let you leave until how much you want to leave is more than your perception of danger on the other side,”

“So it thinks I’m scared?”

“Are you?”

Virgil didn’t answer. He didn’t want to be. Patton was so nice. He said Thomas needed him, and Virgil wanted to believe it. But he couldn’t help the sick feeling that curled up in his stomach as he wondered if he really could start over, like Patton had said. What if things didn’t really change, and it would turn out that he really was still alone? 

“The world doesn’t get any scarier on that side of the door,” Patton said. “Promise,”

“But what if…” Virgil trailed off.

“There’s more to ‘what-if’ about in life than death. It can be hard to get used to, but I’ll give you an If that might help. If you decide that leaving was a bad idea, you can come right back, and you don’t ever have to leave again,”

The thought wasn’t a pleasant one. As scared as he was to leave and still feel lost, the idea of staying in this place that was practically painted with bad memories, of trading what might turn out to be the first family he’d ever had for an eternity of actually being invisible like he’d felt he was for so long…. that didn’t sit well. Patton watched him think over the idea, and smiled encouragingly.

“Try the door again,” he prompted. Virgil looked at him sceptically, but walked to the door frame anyway, pressing his palms against the still solid barrier. Patton moved around him, standing outside again. 

“You’re touching it like it’s there. It’s not,” 

Virgil knocked on the surface under his palms, but was surprised that his fist didn’t make a sound, just stopped moving when it reached the door.

“See?” Patton reached past the doorframe and held his hands out, palms up. Virgil put his hands in Patton’s. The man in blue smiled. “You’re gonna get it. And I'll stay here until you do.” Patton dropped his hands and took a few steps back. “Don’t try to touch it. Don’t brace for it, just walk to me,” Patton instructed, holding his arms open and waiting. 

Virgil took a deep breath. He looked at Patton, waiting there on the other side, arms wide. This stranger that treated him with more genuine care than anyone Virgil had ever met before, waiting just a few feet away to hug him. He thought about the baby. Big brown eyes had held his gaze. He wasn’t invisible to Thomas. 

He was needed. 

Let me out, he commanded. 

He started to walk forward, his feet gaining momentum on their own as he ran outside, and barreled into Patton’s chest, the force almost knocking both of them over. Patton stopped them from landing in the dirt and held onto Virgil as they both started to laugh. The sound covered the approach of the other four, but it wouldn’t have made any difference anyway. Virgil finally knew what home was supposed to feel like. 

“You did it,” Patton praised.

“I did it,” Virgil agreed, breathless.

“I’m proud of you,”

Virgil laughed again. He’d never heard those words from anyone.

“Well done,” De said, coming up behind them, and he meant it. 

Virgil turned and flushed, realizing he had an audience, and pulled his hood over his head. 

“Thanks,” 

The others gathered around, and silence reigned for a few beats. The impact of their decision had hit them. Roman looked down at the baby he held, wrapped in his sash. Virgil watched Thomas breathing. De watched everyone. He was set in his decision. Finally, Logan turned to Patton. 

“This is set in stone. Are you sure, Patton?” he asked, concern managing to bleed past his equanimity. Patton held his eyes, before looking at the baby in Roman’s arms. 

“Yes,” 

Logan sighed. It was the answer he was expecting, but he still struggled to understand. Leave it to Patton. 

Roman spoke next, presenting an oath to the sleeping bundle in his arms. “A swift end to any who would come against you, little prince. You have my heart and my promise,”

Patton smiled and took Virgil’s arm. “Time to go home,”

He smiled at each of them in turn, and led the way down the street. Six men to whom the world was blind walked together, their worlds now entwined in an orbit around the impossible child.

[badbookreviewclub]

Empress Theresa, Chapters 21-28. IT’S FINALLY OVER.

Disclaimer: If you haven’t read the previous review, you can find it here (chapters 11-20). This will contain spoilers. 

Well, the ending is finally here and holy fuck this book went off the rails. I only have one reaction to the ending of it and that’s just what the fuck. Just… What The Fuck Norman whatever the fuck you were on when you wrote the end of this book must have been some powerful shit because holy fuck. Let’s just get started and maybe you’ll see what I mean. These chapters are also completely nonsensical in how they’re put together and just so much information is shoved into them that it can get confusing. I’ll do my best to keep it clear. Chapter 21 The boat that was driven into the Exxon Maria was deemed as a terrorist attack because “the world know that this had been a terrorist bombing” (pg 321). They know this because a bunch of explosives had been smuggled onto the boat beforehand by Middle Eastern terrorists (because Norman is convinced there are no other kind of terrorists) and they drove it straight into the Exxon Maria to try and get back at Theresa for her oil mining operation. So how does Theresa retaliate? She drops the price of oil down to ten dollars a barrel. Thinking that OPEC (which I guess Norman still thinks is a terrorist organization. It’s not) is going to retaliate, Theresa has her parents moved to a safe place (West Point), and tells Prime Minister Scherzer that they have to evacuate the Israeli people now. He tells her that it will take 36 hours to start the evacuation. To remind Saudi Arabia of their deal (because there was a deal apparently in Theresa’s mind, even though there was absolutely no deals made, just an offer put on the table) Theresa raises a mountain in the middle of the Saudi Arabian desert. 

When the Israeli people start to cross evacuate via the landbridge to Crete because as it turns out, no, the island isn’t ready yet, Theresa parts the fucking sea to make giant water walls that terrorists and missiles can’t get through. Moses parting the Red Sea moment, anyone? Because of this, Prime Minister Scherzer calls Theresa the ‘Right Hand of God’. Theresa also decides that it’s time for her to head home, so the Ambassador of the United States to England asks if she would ride home on the Ronald Reagan (the same ship that led took her to the plane she was supposed to be blown up on) to give the ship her honor back. Theresa disagrees, but Steve says that Theresa should play (American) football with the navy of the Ronald Reagan against the Army (I think Norman means foot soldiers specifically). Theresa does agree eventually. 

Someone attempts to do the same drop that Theresa did when she was almost blown up and of course, rather than dissuading them, Theresa gives him tips on how he might survive. Unsurprisingly, he fucking dies. All Theresa does is say “oh whoopsy-doopsy, he fell into still water, not wavy water like I did. Must be why. Sorry that you’re dead bro. Nobody should do that again.” Chapter 22 

Theresa heads back to the United States, but in the process, HAL puts everyone in the plane into a deep sleep, including the piolets and every electronic. Somehow though, the Autopilot still works, so that’s lucky for Theresa I guess. Bitch learns how to fly a plane in under four hours. She lands it after causing millions of dollars worth of damages to the windows of buildings after flying just a little too low to them and as such that causes a lot of injuries, but she doesn’t get in trouble for that because she’s just too sweet and innocent for that. 

Chapter 23 

Am I moving really fast through this? I feel like I am. Though I will say, it’s definitely because I want to be done with this book as fast as I possibly can it’s so fucking dumb. I hate this book so much. I have never met a book that has baffled me as much as this one but absolutely fueled my anger to no end. Anyways… Theresa arrives at West Point (where her parents are) and going to the ranch house that was built specifically for her and her family. The football game takes place, and surprisingly, Theresa and the Navy lose to the Army. 48-36. I don’t know American football very well, despite living in the United States, so if anyone could tell me how good this is I would really appreciate it. 

We learn that her island is producing 3 million barrels of oil a day and by the next year is predicted to be producing 15 million barrels a day, so Theresa is rich as fuck and is going to have a monopoly on oil (what a wonderful capitalist she is). Because all the oil tycoons are worried she’s going to monopolize (she is) and then raise the price drastically, they put her into a two-year deal (bc that’s long enough) saying that the price can’t go above ten dollars a barrel. Theresa agrees without hesitation. 

It’s suggested to Theresa that she should monopolize the manufacturing industry as well, but she turns that down because it could “start a global trade war” (pg 370). 

Theresa, while being a jerk and ignoring everybody when she goes out into public because how could she possibly be expected to meet or even wave or smile at people, finally gives in and talks to 10 North Korean men (via a translator) who have brought her a PBS Documentary to show her the conditions of North Korea. Theresa watches it and is so moved that she comes down and tells the men that she’ll save their families. So essentially, this one PBS Documentary has convinced Theresa to declare war on North Korea’s government. 

Because the North Korean’s wouldn’t listen to her because she holds no power, Theresa joins the army (not really because she never ever ever ever sees combat, but she gets the titles that come with it). 

Chapter 25

Theresa gets her uniform. She specifically requests to have the male uniform because the female one doesn’t look powerful enough. She also gets men’s shoes instead of women’s shoes because the women’s would look stupid with the men’s uniform, I guess. Theresa also insists on wearing her hair down because nobody is going to say jack shit to her about it. Because Theresa got the uniform we learn that Steve has a uniform kink. “Steve thought I looked awful cute in my little uniform.  “‘Hon, you never looked better. It turns me on’” (pg 389). 

Now Norman, I thought this book didn’t have sexual content? Yet here we are, learning about Steve’s fetishes. I’m not going to fetish shame anyone, and more power to you Steve for being open with your sexuality, though I just wanted to point out that Norman specifically said this wouldn’t happen (just like the swearing). 

Anyways, Theresa goes to a meeting at the White House where she immediately becomes a five-star general, the first person after Omar Bradley died. Now I may be wrong, but Omar Bradley was a World War II veteran (a senior officer) and was Chairman of the Joint Cheifs of Staff and oversaw policymaking during the Korean War. The only thing Theresa has (realistically) done up until this point is kill off most of the population, if not all of the population. 

Theresa came up with the idea earlier on that the only way to liberate North Korea is to destroy their weaponry in a certain mile radius and then take over as their dictator for the time being until things could get set up. In a really complicated matter, Theresa sets up a plan wherein ten-miles around Pyongyang, the capital of North Korea, all weapons, planes, bombs, missiles, and helicopters will be destroyed. She works with the South Korean government in order to achieve this with HAL and so they can invade safely. 

But, duN DUN DUN! because all the weapons are destroyed, the government orders unarmed citizens and soldiers and other personnel to attack as soon as they see Theresa and the army. Because there’s 5 million of them, the South Korean army knows that they’ll be easily overwhelmed. Theresa’s solution? Take a Japanese island and move it a bit closer to North and South Korea, and then break North and South Korea away from China and move it closer to the Japanese Island. This way the Japanese Island can build a bridge over and then teach North Korea about a new government. And it fucking works. 

They invade Pyongyang after doing this and the South Korean army basically liters the city with pictures of Theresa’s face and a promise that she’s going to save and liberate them all. They drop all these pictures and promises with an airplane to hopefully quell the people’s worries. There’s a big crowd of North Koreans who are basically lining a gigantic boulevard and the South Korean’s are surrounding the tanks and Theresa, prepared to shoot anyone who gets rowdy or gets too close. Theresa tells them their leaders have left them on a complete fucking bluff, and the South Korean general who has been working with her confirms that they fled to China. Theresa is so relieved by this she almost starts crying, and then the North Korean’s start cheering and wailing and are basically so so so so so happy that Theresa is their new leader. 

And Theresa’s big speech as the new leader? She reads the first couple of paragraphs from the Declaration of Independence. And it’s a smash hit and her greatest success ever. She gives it to a translator so that the North Korean people can understand and just… “Nobody could translate such elegant language on the fly and maintain its beauty. I anticipated that. I’d given the translator the English text the day before and she worked all night at it. When I finished speaking she read what I’d said in Korean with all the emotions and nuances only a Korea could express. My speech or rather the translator’s rendition of it was a spectacular success. The crowd cheered their hearts out. Witnesses said President Stinson cried when I gave the speech. This event, broadcast to the whole world, was called by greatest achievement” (pg 418). And yes, I meant to write ‘a Korea’. That’s how it’s written in the fucking book. But the Declaration of Independence wasn’t written by Theresa and yet somehow it’s ‘her’ speech. And it’s a smashing success because fuck you. Chapter 26

Theresa sets up the South Korean government in North Korea because she can’t be fucked to actually lead it, but comes back when she needs to. In this chapter, Theresa gets really into biology and teaching HAL about biology. She also gets really into archaeology and discovers a bunch of really old Jewish scrolls but nobody can have them. They can look but only she can have them. She also finds Joan of the Arc’s remains because why the fuck not. 

Theresa also makes a mountain in the middle of Lake Michigan without consequence. This is all so they can have the Winter Olympics because I guess Mountain = Snow despite the fact that it’s summer the entire year.

Oh yeah, and Theresa recognizes that she could have thousands of lives with teaching HAL biology and learning how to do surgeries that could save lives that couldn’t otherwise be done. But she decides this is a terrible idea because she’ll end up in court if something goes wrong. 

“‘I can immobilize them like this [basically just holding their body together in a temporarily immortalized, unaging, undying stated] while the surgeon operates and saves thousands of lives.’ (Theresa) “‘And get yourself thousands of lawsuits when things go wrong. Hell the families will hope something goes wrong so they can go after your money’ (Steve) “‘You’re right. I’d spend the rest of my life in courtrooms. It’s a shame. Greed keeps me from saving lives’”  (pg 423).

The only greed keeping you from saving lives is your own. How fucking selfish of you to believe that people want their loved ones to die just so they can get some money. There are horrible people out there in the world like that, there’s no denying it, but the majority of people aren’t. You recognize you could save lives, but you chose not to because you don’t want to go to court if something goes wrong. You’re a fucking villain, Theresa. 

Because of this, I really don’t feel bad when Theresa gets hit by a car, breaks her back, and loses the ability to walk. Getting hit by the car was apparently a terrorist attack that was carefully planned because they wanted to hit Theresa. Because everything just has to be a fucking terrorist attack. But this is why Norman had Theresa suddenly pick up an interest in biology that was never ever even hinted at before. It’s so Theresa can start working on a plan to fix her back so she can walk again. And so she can figure out a way to be immortal. You’re supposed to feel bad for Theresa, but I honestly don’t.

Chapter 27 

More HAL’s show up because when Theresa was about to be blown up and she jumped from the plane, HAL divided itself into 420 other HAL’s. Now all these HAL’s are merging with people. Because Theresa doesn’t want to not be special anymore, she puts the entire world into a deep sleep under the pretense that all of these people could be another Adolf Hitler and she needs to take care of it and stop that before it happens. You know, so the logical explanation, because she can’t just put on HAL into a deep sleep, is to put the entire world into a deep sleep regardless of the consequences. Doesn’t matter if you’re in the middle of surgery or you’re in the ICU. It doesn’t matter if you’re about to die or something is happening. We’re just going to put everyone into a deep sleep because Theresa can’t be fucked to figure out a solution right now.

Chapter 28

600 years have passed and everyone starts to wake up. Everyone thinks Theresa is dead but she shows up with Steve and 420 (nice) children. All these children are geniuses and specialize in something and have the equivalent of like 10 college degrees. So in the past 600 years (where nobody aged, not even Theresa and Steve) the world has advanced massively because of the children and Steve and Theresa. 

Theresa also kept the children as 10-year-olds rather than letting them age. “I’d kept them in a pre-puberty state so they wouldn’t fool around with each other” (pg 464). It’s not like they’re siblings and look like mini replicas of you and your husband. It’s not like you should discourage incest among them because incest isn’t a good thing and can mess with someone’s psyche because it’s damaging a familial relationship by intertwining it with a sexual relationship. Not at all.

But these children, as it would turn out, don’t have a HAL. Theresa and Steve just had like 420 (nice) children I guess. No, Theresa just absorbed all of the other HAL’s and will absorb any other HAL that shows up on earth. And that’s the end of the fucking book. This shit show of a book is finally over. I hated it so much and I’m glad to finally be done with it. 

-8/10 stars. Get fucked Norman Boutin. Your book is stupid as shit and I hate it. 

[likesomekindofcheese]

hi carrie! i would like to ask for a ship for YOU for any fandom you wish! who do you think you would hit it off with? what do you think your interactions would be like? how would you meet? would you settle down together and have a few pets, or would you travel the world together?

Hi there Maxwell/Mirabelle! That’s an amazing question!

I have thought about this for a loooooong time, I could never make up my mind! It’s fun and crazy and it feels embarrassing to put myself out there this way but...ok, here we go.

This feels so indulgent to write these! But whatever! I will do my best to steer away from people I usually write-else I would totes pair myself with Sam Castell and Ben’s character in The Woman in White but that’s for me to share with y.all as we live as Y/N). But short answer to those, maybe they get tired of their previous ladies and before any commitments are made drop them to be with me (poor Laura gets a divorce and moves back home). Then we get to move out of the colonies to England out of harm or away from the drama of that home into a peaceful life together (and for Sam Castell, I think we should adopt Mercy as our daughter so she is no longer a servant and finally lives as a lady with a loving family. Even though Mercy is irl taller than me she is my baby)

Now for different fandoms.

First off, starting strong, for the Star Wars fandom, i ship myself with prequel era Obi Wan. He’s kind, handsome, intelligent. We discuss deep things and history, lore, how people work. I listen to him complain about Anakin and laugh. I don’t know what my job would be in that world, but somehow we cross paths and connect and he insists going to the Space Opera is not a date (since I love it ofc). But it’s a date. So we go and connect. It becomes a stable secret romance. I find out he survives Order 66 and follow him to where he is hiding and we are finally married and live quiet, peaceful lives in the desert there.

Then we have another celeb crush of mine, Henry Cavill. How about I am with him when he is Sherlock in the Enola Holmes universe. I could be a big sister figure to Enola, hired to help her out (like a governess) when her mom’s away or even to be an occasional companion. So then I run into her big brother and we wind up hitting it off and courting. Someitmes figuring out bits of clues together. Co-parenting Enola, almost.

(DAMN he’s beautiful!!!)

Okay, next celeb crush, Tom Hiddleston. How about I pair myself with Prince Hal from the Hollow Crown? Maybe the king decides to bring me to court to influence him from his frat boy ways. I would be annoyed by his immaturity and he by me being uptight until I help him out and join him with Falstaff or he makes me laugh or I help him, etc. Then the King suggests a betrothal, to both of our surprises. IT’s never confirmed. But as he matures, he becomes better and better. He could teach me how to ride a horse and I could help with politics and war in a way. So then he tells his father to go ahead and bethroth us.

Speaking of Shakespeare, since I have become obsessed with the Bard lately, I would ship myself with Edgar from King LEar (yes, I know Gwil played him so that’s cheating, but hear me out)

Here’s the scenario, which I low key thought of making of fanfic of, actually.

My family and i are brought to House Glouchester. But on the ride my parents reveal the real reason: I am going o be betrothed to Edgar. They are a powerful family and I can’t lose anything. IT connects them. Plus the son is a young, handsome heir and godson to a king!

 So I walk out and Lord Glouchestor loves and embraces me and tells me to call me father and see him as a father, etc. Edgar is more shy and awkward. Edmund might hit on me, but I politely turn him down.

 Edgar doesn’t know much about flirting with girls. He let’s me watch him practice fighting, we eat together and go to balls with the Lear family in tow (and I befriend Cordelia because she’s a boss ass bitch and amazing). Edgar even gives me some gifts as tokens. We find ourselves falling in love.

Then the plot happens. Edgar is cast away and runs off, Edmund convinces him that it’s better for me and he is convinced himself he is no longer worthy of me. Once he vanishes, Edmund is like “huh, I dunno. He was just plotting to kill dad. So does that mean you get passed onto me???” 

And I go “no way!” And run off to find him.

 I eventually find Edgar, disguised as the mad beggar, and he snaps out of his feigned madness and embraces me with tears. 

Later, I find the now blinded Glouchester. Glouchestor mourn that he will not have or see the beautiful wedding he had planned for his son and me, including everything he would have done (decorated the halls and chambers with flowers, give Edgar his cloak, give me a ring that belonged to Edgar’s mother, etc.). 

Once Edgar reveals himself to his dad, he cries tears of happiness as he lays dying. I promise to him to marry his son and be as good a wife as ever. He dies smiling. 

 Once Edgar defeats Edmund, in spite of the tragedy of losing his family, the Lear’s, and the responsibility of becoming king, I decide I will not leave him and will join him in hand as king.

 “Do you want this to become queen?” he asks. 

“I would have married you as the beggar” I reply. Though saddened by the loss of lives, we are both hopeful for a new future together.

So....yeah! That’s who I ship myself with!

[vfdbaudelairefile13]

Dear reader, this chapter is the first chapter in a series of chapters that may trigger some of you. I will post warnings with each chapter. Nothing explicit happens here. A few vague hints to sick intentions. This is mostly an Esme chapter.

________________________________________________________________

Chapter Forty-Seven:

The One When Violet Makes the Ultimate Sacrifice

This is not the story of Lemony Snicket if it were...well we would’ve have been finished back when the Baudelaire children were being taken to Prufrock Preparatory School. No, this is not the story about Lemony Snicket or Beatrice Baudelaire. This isn’t even the story about Count Olaf, although all these stories are intertwined and interject into each other. This is the story about Violet Snicket and her two younger half-siblings, Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire though.

It would be useless to tell the Lemony Snicket story, because it happened so very long ago, and because there is nothing anybody can do about the way it has turned out, although, the same could be said about Violet Snicket’s story. The reason I don’t tell the Lemony Snicket story more so has to do with the fact that it is much more difficult to investigate. So the only reason I could possibly have for jotting parts of it down at this section of his daughter’s story would be to make this chapter in her story more unpleasant, unnerving and unbelievable...but believe me when I say that this part of the story doesn’t need any help with that. This story is about Violet Snicket and Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire, and how they have an incident in the Library of Records of Heimlich Hospital that will change their lives forever and still gives me the heebie-jeebies whenever I am alone at night.

Now if this were a story about Lemony Snicket, I would pause and tell you about something that he and a few of his comrades had done many years ago that had haunted him until the day he died.  It is something that I believe would still trouble him if he were alive to tell the tale today instead of me, researching, investigating, and reporting on it so many years later. Now, instead of telling you about the three children who would soon run into someone they had hoped never to see again, I will pause for a brief moment to explain a part of their parents’ stories. Now what Lemony and his comrades did was a necessary thing to do, but it was not a nice thing, and even now, I get a small quiver of shame in my stomach whenever I think about it. Whenever I think about what those three children were to endure just moments later. And after taking into consideration, information I have gathered from enduring several lengthy interviews with key witnesses to the Snicket case, many sleepless hours within the sub-basement of a deceased hotel manager, and detailing with a clueless banker the exact timeline of the Baudelaire orphans have I still come to no conclusion on one of the biggest questions that this investigation has open up. And that question is: Was it really necessary? Was it absolutely necessary for Lemony Snicket and Beatrice Baudelaire to steal that sugar bowl from Esme Squalor?

This is a question that I have unfortunately not answered and I feel as though no amount of investigation from either myself or my associate is ever going to turn up the answer to this haunting and chilling question. But as I further write into the Snicket/Baudelaire cases I must warn you that the children’s troubles are only about to get immensely worse. This may be your last chance for an escape. I’d take it if I were you.

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny walked hurriedly through the hallways of Heimlich Hospital. Each child felt a pang of guilt in their stomach. Violet felt the pang of guilt each time she reached into her pocket and found that one of her ribbons was missing. She felt a quiver in her stomach as she walked when she thought about what she and her siblings had done. Klaus looked every which way afraid that Olaf will soon detect the three siblings on their way to the Library of Records. He had a similar quiver in his stomach that Violet had, whenever he felt Hal’s key shift in his pocket and he was reminded about the little trick that he and his sisters had pulled on Hal. While Sunny, who was being carried by Violet, could feel a quiver in her stomach as the three were sneaking their way into the library at night when no one was supposed to be in there.

“Is this absolutely necessary?” Violet asked herself aloud but it was a bit louder than she thought because both her siblings heard her. They looked to their older sister with frowns painted on their faces.

“It’s not a nice thing to do,” Sunny admitted.

“I know,” Klaus said patting Sunny’s shoulder. “I have a quiver in my stomach just thinking about it. But it’s the only way we can get our hands on that file,”

“Before Olaf,” Sunny pointed out, seemingly agreeing with Klaus. “Can get his grimy hands on us,”

“I still feel terrible about this,” Violet whispered to her siblings as they got closer and closer to the Library of Records.

“One day, we’ll apologize and explain our situation,” Klaus explained. “We’ll apologize to Hal for playing this mean trick on him, and explain why we had to break the rules. This might not be the nicest thing we’ve ever done but...it’s necessary.”

“And we’ll return to the Last Chance General Store,” Violet reasoned. “And explain to the shopkeeper why we had to run away without paying for anything,”

“First we need that file,” Sunny reminded them as the three siblings reached the door.

“Sunny’s right. Until then...we need to hurry,” Violet said as Klaus handed her Hal’s keyring. Violet hurriedly went through the keyring, desperately looking for the correct key for the hole. She looked at the lock of the door, which had a very short and narrow keyhole, and then looked at the loop of string, which had one very short and narrow key, and in no time at all the children were re-entering the Library of Records and looking down the dim aisles of file cabinets. “Olaf could still be watching us,”

“I’m going to lock the door behind us,” Klaus said cautiously. “So that nobody will get suspicious if they happen to walk into the anteroom.”

“Like Olaf,” Sunny chimed in.

“We definitely don’t want him in here,” Violet muttered. “Now let’s go,” she cried.

“Hal said he had specific instructions about where to file those specific files,” Klaus recalled trying to remember the exact words Hal had used to describe the film.

“And the file is called the Snicket file…” Violet muttered.

“S!” Sunny shrieked as she climbed onto one of the comfy chairs that were in the corner of the room. She wasn’t able to read or understand the alphabet as much as her siblings so she allowed them to look for the file while she sat down and suggested where they should look.

Quickly, Violet and Klaus raced down the ‘S’ aisle. The only noise in the eerie lit Library of Records was the children’s echoing footsteps.

“Secretary to sediment,” Violet called out to Klaus.

“Shed to sheepshank,” Klaus called back to Violet.

“Shellac to sherbert,”

“Shipwreck to shrimp,”

“Sicily to sideways,”

“Sludge to smoke,”

“Snack to snifter,” Violet called out

“Snowball to Sober,”

“Sonnet to spackle,”

Klaus stopped in his tracks. “Wait!” he cried. “Back up! We passed Snicket,”

Violet facepalmed as she backed up a bit. “Snack to snifter?” she asked as he slid to her quickly.

“That’s the one,” he said happily.

“I was so distracted by all the strange file names that I forgot what we were looking for,” Violet hurriedly opened the filing cabinet.

“It would be in the bottom drawer, closer to Snifter,” Klaus explained as he and Violet knelt quickly to see if the file they desperately sought out would be there.

The two older orphans looked as they ran their fingers through the files. Now, there are plenty of words that are close to ‘snifter’ in the alphabet, and the children found many of them. There was a file on Snell’s Law, which states that a ray of light passing from one uniform medium to another produces an identical ration between the sine of the angle of incidence and the sine of the angle of refraction, which Klaus already knew by the time he was ten. There was a file on the inventor of the sneaker, whom Violet admired very much, and one on snicking, which is something Sunny had done many times with her teeth. But there was not a single scrap of paper marked ‘Snicket’ The two older children sighed in disappointment as Violet harshly slammed the drawer closed. “No Snicket,” she muttered.

“J?” Klaus suggested with a shrug of his shoulders. “For Jacques?”

“I mean...it’s plausible,” Violet replied.

“Shh,” Sunny whispered as she put her finger to her lips.

“Why?” Klaus asked.

“I hear something,” Sunny explained.

Violet and Klaus strained their ears to hear what Sunny was hearing. The two older siblings looked at one another worriedly as they could barely hear the clomping of odd, teetering footsteps as if someone were walking on very thin stilts. The footsteps grew closer and closer, and then stopped, and as the three children held their breath, the door to the Library rattled as someone tried to open the door.

“Maybe it’s Hal?” Violet whispered worriedly. “Maybe he forgot something and he’s using the sham keyring,”

“Or...maybe it’s Olaf,” Klaus whispered terrified. “And he’s looking for us,”

“Janitor?” Sunny guessed.

“Well, whoever it is,” Violet whispered with determination. “Needs to fuck off. We have a file to retrieve,” she said as she dragged Klaus towards the J aisle. As the two older orphans tiptoed quickly down the J aisle, they called out names of the filing cabinets to each other.

“Jabberwocky to Jackal,” Klaus whispered.

“Jacket to Jack-o-Lanterns,” Violet whispered back.

“Jackline to Jacutinga,” Klaus whispered. “Vi, it’s this one,”

Violet rushed towards her brother, almost falling flat on her face. Violet hurried to find the right key and the children opened the drawer to look for ‘Jacques’. As Violet knew, a jackline is a kind of rope used in sailing, and as Klaus knew, jacutinga is a sort of gold-bearing iron ore found in Brazil, and once again there were plenty of files between the two, but there were no files marked ‘Jacques’.

Violet shut the filing cabinet harshly forgetting that there was someone outside the Library trying to desperately get in. Violet sighed and pulled at her hair as Klaus looked disappointingly to the ground.

“What about B?” Klaus suggested. “For Baudelaire?”

“Why would the ‘ Snicket’ file be under ‘ Baudelaire?’” Violet asked annoyed.

“I don’t know but it wasn’t filed under ‘Snicket’!” Klaus hissed.

Violet sighed as Sunny shrugged her shoulders. “This is Hal we’re talking about,” Sunny explained. Violet sighed once more but nodded her head.

“I guess it’s worth a try,” she said as she and Klaus tiptoed down to the B aisle. Violet could slightly hear a muffled scratching from behind the door as if something long and thin were being stuck in the keyhole to try to unlock the lock. Violet knew, from her days of breaking into her father’s things, that a lockpick can often take a long time to work properly, even if it has been made by one of the world’s greatest inventors, but she still dragged Klaus quickly across the room.

“Babbitt to Babylon,” Violet whispered.

“Bacteria to ballet,”

“Bamboo to Baskerville,”

“Bat Mitzvah to Bavarian Cream,” Klaus whispered smiling. “This is the one,” Violet hurriedly tried nine different keys before finally, the key she was using had opened the filing cabinet. Klaus quickly scanned through the files, a frown appearing on his face. “Dammit,” he muttered as he slammed the door shut.

“Shhh!” Sunny reminded him.

“So now that you’re finished wasting our time,” Violet muttered. “Does anyone have any helpful suggestions,”

“You don’t need to be a bitch, Vi,” Klaus muttered angrily.

“I’m sorry but someone is trying to get in here and I am not leaving without that fucking file,” Violet whispered. “Now, who has suggestions?”

“L?” Sunny suggested.

Violet and Klaus looked at one another as they simultaneously said, “Lemony,” Violet frowned as Klaus put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“It’s worth a try, Sunshine!” Klaus called out to Sunny as the two older orphans raced down several aisles.

Instead of going down a single letter aisle as the children had in the ‘S’ ‘J’ and ‘B’ aisles, the children were walking perpendicularly to the filing cabinets now, with each row being its own letter.

“Igloo to illness,” Klaus called out.

“Jam to jazzier,” Violet called out.

“Kiss to kite,”

“Laughter to lettuce,” Violet called out, smiling. “It’s this one!”

Klaus hurried to where his elder sister stood as she opened the cabinet. Within a mere thirty seconds, Violet kicked the filing cabinet as Klaus slammed the open drawer shut angrily. “Nothing,” he muttered disappointingly. Both older orphans forgetting about the person on the other side of the library door, but Sunny didn’t remind them because the noise has ceased entirely as if the person had given up on the idea of entering the Library of Records.

“I’m tired!” Violet shrieked. “I’m so sick and tired of not understanding what’s going on around us!” she yelled. “Missing files...complicated codes…”

“Mysterious guardians...that tunnel that led to my house,” Klaus added.

“Olaf,” Sunny chimed in.

Then Sunny smiled as she shouted three letters that made Violet’s blood boil and created a smile upon Klaus’ face. “V.F.D!”

“Volatile Film Document,” Klaus recalled in a monotone. “Sunny, you’re a genius!”

“I try!” Sunny called back, clapping.

“The cult,” Violet hissed under her breath.

“Do you think that could be it?” Klaus asked his older sister.

“I don’t know how we could miss that...the cult is so self-absorbed they plaster their logo everywhere,” Violet said as she and Klaus raced down the ‘V’ aisle.

Once the cabinet was open, it took Violet only a mere fifteen seconds to find that file. She and Klaus looked at one another smiling as Violet grabbed the film with a trembling hand and handed it to Klaus. Violet raced to where Sunny was seated and carried her over to where the projectors were, which happened to be at the other end of the library. Away from the door that was now beginning to shake slightly as if the person on the other side of the door was obviously getting frustrated with trying to pick the lock. But the children didn’t seem to notice this at all.

Once Violet got the film rolling, all three kids gasped once they saw Jacques Snicket appearing on the screen. He sat in front of a small, cluttered desk. He looked mournfully in the camera.

“Have you heard the news about your brother?” an off-screen VFD agent asked Jacques, who immediately frowned and shook his head.

“He’s either dead or on the lam. But either way, he doesn’t mind,” Jacques said sternly in a tone that Violet didn’t know how to take. On one hand, Violet could take it as a grieving brother who refused to believe that his brother, who had faked his death for nearly fifteen years, was actually dead this time. She gave a quick glance towards Klaus and Sunny thinking that if it had happened to her, she’d be just like her uncle. Refusing to believe the truth. But on the other hand, there was something about his tone that felt confident as if he knew what he was talking about. Either way though, all three children’s eyes were locked on Jacques as he pushed his tea away after taking a sip.

“Uncle Jacques,” Violet practically whimpered. She frowned when she remembered how she had ultimately failed him and her father when Olaf murdered him. She stole a quick glance towards Sunny. It may have only been temporary but Sunny had explained to Violet that her uncle had been able to rescue her and the two Quagmire triplets before getting caught and being murdered by Olaf. She wished she could have saved him or at least thanked him for his efforts. During her nearly fourteen and a half years alive, she had never met either her uncle or aunt. She knew her father had two siblings but she was never lucky enough to meet them and now as she silently watched her uncle on a projector, she realized that like her birth mother, she was never going to have an actual conversation with her uncle.

“I never thought we’d see him again,” Klaus admitted in a whisper.

Sunny cringed and covered her eyes with her hands. She shook slightly. Violet and Klaus both glanced down at Sunny, who shook her head and turned away from the projector entirely. “Poor man,” she said as tears began to fall down her face.

“Sunny…” Violet whispered as she began to kneel down to comfort Sunny but as her uncle spoke again, it caused her to focus solely on the film.

“Are we rolling?” Jacques had asked.

“Yes, we’re rolling,” the VFD agent replied. The children could hear that the agent had sat down in a chair off-screen, probably near the camera. They watched as Jacques heavily sighed and rubbed the back of his head. As if he had something he wanted to say but he didn’t know how to say it. “This is the official VFD debriefing of Jacques Snicket.” the agent said as Jacques gave the camera a small wave and gentle smile as if he was being forced to do this and he was trying to look as ‘volunteering’ as possible. “Mr. Snicket, I need you to layout in excruciating detail, if you can, about everything you know about Count Olaf, your brother, this rash of fires, and anything else we need to know about the orphans,”

Jacques nodded and sighed again. “I suppose I should start from the very beginning,” Jacques began. Violet and Klaus smiled happily at the prospect of learning everything from the very beginning. Sunny, on the other hand, was trying her best to focus on the film but seeing Jacques Snicket alive and well was causing her to remember that he wasn’t alive and well. “But first, before I do,” Jacques paused again. His face was full of contemplation. Violet and Klaus looked at one another nervously and excitedly. They were about to learn everything and by the way, Jacques was hesitating, the two older siblings were sure that he was going to spill all of the answers to every question the siblings had. “I have an important update...it seems there may have been a survivor of one of the recent fires.”

All three children felt their faces drop and their hearts plummet.

“Did he say?” Violet and Klaus asked simultaneously in a desperate tone. The two older siblings glanced at one another. Both thinking slightly similar thoughts.

“Did you say?” the VFD agent in the film asked.

“Yes, that’s right,” Jacques said sighing again, nodding his head.

“One of our parents could still be alive,” Klaus muttered to Violet and Sunny.

And then without any prompting, Klaus’ mind repeated one word that made him feel a tad bit guilty. Mother! His mind screamed. Sunny glanced at Jacques and her only thought was Dada!

But Violet’s only thought might have been more desperate than both of her siblings combined. For her heart, soul, and mind were all screaming Mr. Lemons! She looked at her uncle’s serious face and she couldn’t help but feel excited. It had to be her father! It just had to be! That’s why Uncle Jacques said ‘he’s either dead or on the lam’. She reasoned. A smile appeared on her face as her hopes began to rise. He’s not dead...I can apologize. We can be a family again. My life...can go back to normal. She gave a quick glance at her siblings, even though she knew they were thinking slightly different thoughts, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt in her stomach but at this moment. She didn’t care. Her uncle just confirmed that her father was alive. “I never thought I’d live to see the day…” Violet said aloud. Her tone mesmerized but still entirely full of hope.

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny all stood and looked at Jacques Snicket as he paused once more as if he were giving the children time to register exactly what he had just said. But as the three siblings stared in complete and utter awe about what they just heard, something in the back of Violet’s mind didn’t seem right. If her father was alive...why wasn’t he trying to rescue her like he rescued her siblings? But before Jacques could give any more details to the three children.

As a terrifying figure stepped in front of the film, giving each sibling a haunting smile. Violet gasped, Klaus grabbed onto Sunny’s shoulder instinctively as his eyes widened and little Sunny began to whimper and shake. But each style stood frozen in shock. The orphans had been so shocked by what they had found that they had forgotten all about the person breaking into the Library of Records, and now they looked at a tall, skinny figure standing before them.

“I’m wild about movies,” Esme snarled, as she smirked towards the children. “Now who wants popcorn?”

Quickly, Violet turned the projector off just as Jacques Snicket was beginning to speak once more. Esme smiled viciously first at Klaus. “Why, hello, Klaus.” she sneered giving the thirteen-year-old boy a small wave of her hand. Her eyes glanced down at Sunny, “and if it isn’t the Baudelaire baby... did you miss me?” Esme asked leaning down slowly so she can be at eye-level to Sunny. Sunny retreated to behind Violet’s left leg as Esme slowly stood back up, only glaring towards Violet.

“ Go!” Violet cried picking up Sunny rather quickly.

“ Run!” Sunny cried burying her head into Violet’s shoulder as Violet and Klaus began to run.

Esme’s smile slowly faded into a look of sheer annoyance as she angrily took a step forward. As the villainess walked her heels stuck into the floors harshly, causing her to nearly trip.

“ Damn these stiletto heels!” She shouted as she pulled her heel from the floor. The children took no time running between filing cabinets in a desperate attempt to hide from Esme. As Esme walked, her heels continued to make tottering click- ing noises. For as long as the children had known her, Esme Squalor had been a slave to fashion, a phrase which here means, ‘dressed in incredibly expensive, and often incredibly absurd outfits.” This evening Esme was wearing a long coat made from the fur of a number of animals that no doubt had been killed in particularly unpleasant ways and on her feet, she had a pair of shoes with stiletto heels. A stiletto is a small, slender knife resembling a dagger, such as might be carried by a carnival performer or a murderer, and the word ‘stiletto’ has been used to describe a woman’s shoe with a very long and narrow heel. But in the case of Esme Squalor, on her shoes was a pair of stiletto knives where the heel should be. The stilettos were pointing straight down so that Esme viciously stabbed the floor of Library of Records with each step, occasionally the stilettos stuck, so the wicked woman had to pause and yank them out of the floor.

Violet, Klaus, and Sunny ran as fast as they could across the room in the direction away from both the exit and Esme. Esme followed as quickly as she could, doing her best to learn how to walk along the floor without her shoes getting stuck. The entire time, she was merely smirking towards the children reveling in their fear of her. Klaus pushed both his sisters behind him as the three siblings chose to hide behind the same row of filing cabinets. Esme sighed as she hid behind a row of filing cabinets herself.

Sunny held on to Violet as tightly as she could. “We’ve gotta get out of here,” Klaus cried as Sunny nodded her head in agreement.

“Not without that film,” Violet replied trying to locate Esme but it seemed to the children that she had vanished. “We have to go get it,”

“ Vi,” Sunny whimpered. Violet turned towards her younger siblings and she saw the look of sheer terror on their faces. Sunny held Violet tightly as she shook while Klaus looked to Violet with uncertainty and worry. Both sets of eyes were as wide as could be. With every second that passed and not knowing Esme’s location was scaring all three children, even Violet.

“We can’t let Esme get Sunny...again,” Klaus cried as he used his arm to keep Violet and Sunny behind him. “They can’t have her again, Vi!”

Klaus looked to his younger sister, who was burying her head in Violet’s chest, shaking in their sister’s arms.

Violet placed a hand on Klaus’ shoulder. “They’re not getting you either.”

The children looked around once more doing their best to try to locate Esme. But they could no longer hear her tottering footsteps. The children huddled closely together, they could have sworn they heard Esme muttering to herself for a moment, and then the three youngsters began to hear a terrifying sequence of sounds. There was a long and screechy creak! and then a loud booming crash! And then another long, screechy creak! Followed by yet another booming crash! And the pair of sounds continued, getting louder and louder. The youngsters looked at one another in puzzlement, and then, just in the nick of time, the eldest of the three figured out what the sound was.

“She’s knocking over the file cabinets!” Violet cried. “They’re toppling over like dominoes!”

“I’m filing you under ‘S’ for smashed flat!” Esme yelled, laughing maniacally as Violet pushed Klaus as hard as she could away from the falling row of filing cabinets. The row of filing cabinets thankfully missed all three children as it hit the wall of the Library of Records, creating a last crash! Sound as it damaged the wall. Esme growled when she realized she missed all three orphans. Esme began to push over another, which pushed over another, which pushed over another and now several heavy metal cabinets were crashing towards the children like a wave crashing on the shore. Violet reached out and grabbed Klaus as she carried Sunny, successfully pulling them out of the path of yet another row of falling file cabinets. With a creak! And a crash! The cabinet fell to the floor, right where Klaus had been standing. The three children breathed a sigh of relief, having just narrowly avoided being crushed beneath the cabinet.

“ I’m going to flatten you!” Esme screeched as Klaus began to shake and tremble as hard as Sunny was. “Olaf and I are going to have a romantic breakfast of Baudelaire and Snicket pancakes!”

The noise around the siblings was escalating quickly causing Klaus to feel too stimulated. “ Vi...I wanna go home,” he cried grabbing onto Violet tightly. Violet felt her heart break a little. She gripped onto her little brother and sister tightly, listening to the very unpleasant sound of Esme’s shrill laughter and the sound of filing cabinets crashing into hospital walls and tiled floors.

Violet sighed knowing exactly what she had to do. She turned to Klaus as she gently disentangled Sunny from herself and handing her over to Klaus, who gripped Sunny tightly. “You take Sunny and head for the door,” she instructed.

“What about you?” Klaus asked desperately.

“ Come out. Come out. Wherever you are!”

“I’m going back for the film, I’ll catch up,” Violet explained as confidently as she could, avoiding eye contact.

Sunny buried her head into Klaus’ chest as gently as she could as she shook her head in disagreement.

“But…” Klaus began.

“ Vi,” Sunny whimpered into Klaus’ chest.

She sighed as she looked into Klaus’ eyes, she gently patted Sunny on the shoulder to get her to look at her. Sunny turned her head slightly so that only one of her eyes had to open to see Violet. Violet gave both siblings a brave smile as she placed one hand on Sunny’s cheek and her other on Klaus’ shoulder. “I’ll be right behind you,” Violet said gently, although she wasn’t entirely sure how this was going to end. She knew how she wanted it to end and she also knew how she expected this to end. She gave her siblings one more small smile as she gently turned Klaus in the direction of the door and gave him a slight push.

“Peek-a-boo!” Esme squealed joyfully at the sight of Klaus and Sunny. Giving Klaus a vicious smile and Sunny a slight wave of her hand. “ I see you!” she hissed pointing directly at the two orphans.

Klaus gripped Sunny tighter as he ran behind a row of filing cabinets. Esme clapped her hands excitedly. “ I love games!” she squealed. “Are we playing hide and seek?” she asked in a chilling tone. “What do I win when I catch you?”

She took a moment to slap her own leg as she began to burst into laughter at her own joke. “ Cause I will catch you, Klaus.” she hissed in a tone that sent chills down all three siblings spines even if Sunny wasn’t entirely sure why she felt the chills. Unlike Violet and Klaus who both had some sort of idea.

Esme took another taunting step towards the kids, stupidly forgetting that she should walk as gracefully as possible, instead of rough and menacingly. “Ugh! These shoes!”  As she pulled her shoe out of the floor once more, she glanced around for the third brat, the Snicket brat. Oh, how Esme would love to kill her. Olaf wouldn’t be able to get too mad at her if she explained that it was dark and she was haphazardly pushing the filing cabinets down and Violet had accidentally been the only fatality. She laughed amongst herself wickedly. Esme smiled as she could see the end of Klaus’ shoe from behind a row of filing cabinets, she stealthily walked to a filing cabinet in the same row as the boy and his baby sister. She placed her cold hands on the cold metal, ready to give it a push. But she tapped her nails along the side of the filing cabinet. “ Oh, Klaus, dear,” she called out, making sure that he couldn’t see where she was at, in case he garnered up enough courage to look. Violet glared towards where she believed the villain to be, her blood was beginning to boil. “ Why don’t you make this easier for your baby sister? And merely surrender, now?” she suggested counting out her long, slim, sharp nails waiting until she reached ten. “ I can convince Olaf to go easy on her...and you,”

Don’t you dare! Violet thought to herself as she continued to sneak towards the film.

Esme reached ten and sighed. “Fine, have it your way,” she growled as she tapped her stiletto-sharp fingernails along the filing cabinet as she turned to face the cabinet before giving it a big push.

Klaus gripped onto Sunny tightly as he rolled out of the way of the falling row of cabinets. The row of cabinets hit the wall and floor creating the loudest creak! And crash! Violet heard the sound and quickly ran out of hiding to make sure her siblings were okay. Esme caught sign of Violet before Violet quickly hid behind a row of cabinets. Esme began to rapidly push several rows Violet’s way. “ I’m going to destroy you, orphans! Heimlich Hospital is about to have three new patients,” she snarled and began to chuckle amongst herself. “ But I’m afraid it’ll be too late for any doctor to save their lives.” Esme cackled loudly and stomped her foot as Violet made it passed the falling filing cabinets unscathed.

Violet reached the projectors as Klaus realized he was the furthest from the exit that he could be. “Dammit,” he muttered. Sunny whimpered when she glanced towards the exit to see Esme standing by it pacing around in a small circle with her hands firmly on her hips.

Esme smirked when she noticed the two children looking at her from afar. “That’s right! You orphans are never going to escape!” she explained as she glanced around at the filing cabinets near the door. She smirked wickedly at Klaus and Sunny as she pushed the filing cabinets to the ground in front of the door. “The door’s blocked! There’s no way out!”

Violet began to breathe heavily in fear as she waited for the film to roll up. She glanced around to see if she could locate her siblings or Esme. No luck.

Klaus and Sunny tried to hide behind cabinets as they walked the opposite direction as Esme. Esme’s footsteps echoing the library once more. With each subtle click! All three orphans felt their hearts beating rapidly but oddly enough to the same pace as Esme’s footsteps.

Sunny held tightly to her brother as Klaus whispered, “What would Violet do?” to himself over and over again. He pressed his back to one of the filing cabinets, holding Sunny as close to him as he could. “What would Violet do?” he asked himself again, in a more frantic tone as Esme began speaking once more.

“You don’t have to hide from me, children,” she called out in a sickeningly sweet tone. “Maybe we can help each other?”

Klaus looked around frantically as he tried to listen to the sound of Esme’s footsteps to determine where in the library she was at.  

“You see, I’m looking for something,” Esme explained still using that sickeningly sweet tone with the kids. “Small, round... full of secrets.” as she walked and talked, she pushed down singular filing cabinets, creating loud booms! Causing all three children to jump in terror with each sound.

Violet put the Snicket file back into its case as she listened to Esme ramble. She glanced down at the file in her hand. Esme can’t know that Mr. Lemons survived. She and Olaf would just go after him. She thought as she slipped the file into her pocket for safekeeping.

“Your uncle, Jacques Snicket, thought he could hide it from me,” Esme snarled. “ But now he’s dead.”

Violet glared towards where she believed Esme to be as Esme began to cackle loudly as if Jacques Snicket’s death were a joke to her and not a seriously traumatic event for Violet or her siblings.

Klaus glanced around until he noticed a possible escape out of the library. He smiled. “That’s something Violet would do,” he told himself as he pulled Sunny even closer to him. “I think we can make it to the mail chute, Sunshine.” Sunny glanced towards where her brother was pointing, she merely nodded her head as she glanced around desperately for their older sister.

Esme wiped tears from her eyes as she ceased her laughter. “ And I want it!” she shrieked as loudly as she could. As if she was in a contest with the filing cabinets to see what could produce the most terrifying sound that the three children have ever heard in their short lives. As she shrieked, she began to haphazardly push down filing cabinets, no longer caring who she hits as long as she hits someone.

Klaus took this time in Esme’s weirdly inconvenient mid-life crisis to haphazardly run towards the mail chutes, no longer caring if the madwoman could see him and Sunny because she is already sending filing cabinets flying in every direction. Klaus and Sunny reached the mail chutes only a few moments before Violet, who ran quickly glancing around to make sure Esme wasn’t near. Her breathing was heavy and her eyes were beginning to water as Esme’s footsteps continued to be heard even in the midst of every other sound that was terrorizing the children.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Violet admitted giving both of them a smile.

“You’re never going to get out of this room alive, you imbeciles!” Esme screeched as she continued to haphazardly push filing cabinets.

As Klaus opened the mail chute, Violet glanced at him and Sunny. She knew what she had to do. She had her doubts that all of them were going to make it out of the room. She quickly wiped her tears as Klaus set Sunny on the ground. Before Klaus could maneuver himself into the chute, Violet grabbed him and hugged him tightly. He tensed up at the embrace until slowly relaxing into it. He didn’t understand why his big sister was hugging him, but he didn’t care. He was so terrified and her arms felt so warm and safe. He hugged her just as tightly still not aware of her intentions. She released her grip from him slowly, wishing that she didn’t have to do what she knew she had to do. She wiped tears from her face again, once Klaus was distracted by hoisting himself into the chute. As Violet picks up Sunny, she begins to bawl. She holds Sunny tightly into her arms, the toddler feeling the same warmth and safety that her brother had felt when Violet had embraced him, wrapped her arms around Violet’s neck tightly refusing to let Violet go. Sunny didn’t understand why Violet was crying. She didn’t understand that Violet was equally as afraid as they were. But Sunny and Klaus couldn’t see Violet being fearful. From the moment they met their older sister, she was this powerhouse force that dared idiots to try to mess with them. She didn’t have fears, but as Violet sobbed as she held Sunny near, the teen forgetting that imminent danger was literally behind her. She sighed heavily as she disentangled herself from Sunny, handing the toddler to a rather confused Klaus.

“Violet?” Klaus cried out.

Violet shook her head. “I won’t fit,”

“I’m taller than you, how…”

Violet sighed as she looked to her siblings, correcting her previous statement. “All three of us won’t fit,” she admitted. “One of us has to stay back,”

“ No!” Sunny cried as she reached her arms out to grab onto Violet. Violet stepped back out of the toddler’s reach causing Sunny to bawl.

“I’ll find another way,” Violet said. Her voice was calm, but Klaus and Sunny could see that her eyes were wide with fear no matter how hard she tried to mask it. They could now see that, she too, had the ability to fear. It was written entirely on her face. Her voice was calm but they could hear the slight shake in her tone.

“That’s out of the question,” Klaus argued. “Sunny and I will climb out…” he began as he started hoisting himself out of the mail chute. Violet rushed to the mail chute, pushing Klaus back down.

“We can’t risk it!” Violet pleaded. “Esme won’t catch all of us, not if we split up. We’ll meet back in the unfinished wing,”

“No!” both siblings shrieked simultaneously.

“This is what happened with the Quagmires, remember? When we left them behind, they were snatched away.” Klaus cried trying to push Violet away so he can climb out of the chute.

“Yeah, but we stayed together,” Violet said pointing at the three siblings. “And he still managed to take Sunny.” she reminded him. “But the Quagmires are safe now. Sunny is, too.”

“ This isn’t safe!” Klaus cried.

Violet placed a gentle hand on Klaus’ cheek and knelt down slightly to do the same to Sunny’s. “Don’t worry…I’ll invent something,” she told them soothingly. The two younger orphans looked into their sister’s fearful eyes as she gave them a small smile before reaching into her pocket so she could use her last remaining ribbon to tie up her hair. Her siblings watched her trembling fingers tie up her hair loosely, they watched as her hair fell from the ribbon smacking her in the face. Her trembling fingers tried once more to tie her hair up, as Violet listened to the villainous laughter of Esme grow louder and colder, she felt a quiver in her stomach. She knew what she was doing was dangerous...but if it meant saving Klaus and Sunny. With sudden horror, the three siblings heard a creak! Right behind Violet.

“ Violet! Look out!” Klaus cried as he and Sunny ducked into the chute as low as they could as Violet turned around, gasped loudly, and jumped out of the way just in time to avoid the crash! As it hit the mail chute. Even proceeding to bounce a bit as it settled.

“ Vi! No!” Sunny shrieked.

“Violet?” Klaus cried desperately. The filing cabinet had hit the chute in such an angle that there was no way for him or Sunny to climb out of the chute even though they desperately wanted to.

Violet rushed to the mail chute, glancing down at her siblings. “I’m okay,” she told them as Klaus and Sunny tried to push the cabinet aside. But the combined strength of a thirteen-year-old boy and his toddler sister were no match against a metal case holding files on everything from the history of language to a large carnivorous feline found in sub-Saharan Africa and parts of India. “Are you guys okay?” Violet asked desperately.

“Physically? Yeah,” Klaus replied still trying to push the cabinet out of the way.

Violet stood there frozen in fear as Klaus and Sunny punched the filing cabinet angrily. Slowly, Violet sighed as she reached her hands into her pocket. She grabbed her father’s wallet and handed it to Klaus. Klaus looked at her confused.

“What…”

“You may need that,” Violet said holding back her tears. Her hands trailed up to her neck as she remembered how Olaf had taken her backpack from her. She felt the cold chain of her locket as she unclasped it from her neck. She opened the locket one last time as she stared at both of the pictures in them. All she knew is she couldn’t let Olaf take her locket. She knelt down to see Sunny eye to eye. “I need you to take care of something for me, Sunshine. Can you do that?” she asked sweetly as Sunny slowly nodded her head, beginning to cry. Violet clasped the locket around Sunny’s neck. Sunny was startled by the new, odd cold sensation that hit her chest, near her stomach since the chain was designed to be worn by teenagers rather than toddlers. Sunny put her hand on the heart-shaped locket and stared at Violet confused.

“No,” Sunny pleaded. “Yours,” Sunny wanted Violet to stop acting crazy and take her locket back and get into the mail chute with Klaus and Sunny. She didn’t want Violet to leave. Leaving is never good.

“Take care of that for me. I can’t let Olaf have it,” Violet explained, fully admitting to her siblings that she has thought of all the possibilities to this plan of hers and she accepts her decision entirely, no matter the consequence. Violet poked the heart-shaped locket. “My father gave me that so she was always with me... so she’d always be close to my heart. I always look in it when I feel like I need her,” Violet explained as she kissed both Sunny and Klaus on the forehead.

Klaus was beginning to cry alongside his siblings. “Violet...we can’t leave you,” he pleaded.

“Stand tall little soldier,” Violet replied, offering him a gentle, small smile. Klaus’ eyes widened and then his frown deepened when he realized that Violet had said a parallel of what she had said to him when they first met. When she first was trying to convince Klaus that it’d be better to let her help. ‘Stand down little soldier,’ she had said to him. Klaus looked into Violet’s frightened eyes and he knew exactly what she was doing and he now knew she had done it on purpose.

. “ I love you guys,” she cried. Klaus and Sunny watched as she wiped a few tears. “I will find another way out,” she swore. “You both protect each other while I’m gone,”

Klaus and Sunny look at her with broken eyes. “Violet…” Sunny whimpered.

“Just...help me move this filing cabinet,” Klaus cried to his older sister.

Violet merely shook her head. “Snickets take care of their own,” she said. She sighed and wiped her face once more. She looked at her siblings.  “I’ll find you,”

“ There you are, Snicket brat!” Esme’s voice shrieked as Esme tried her best to run towards Violet with her stiletto shoes.

Violet reached into her pocket quickly. “Esme wants this! We can’t let her have it!” she said handing the Snicket file to Klaus right as Esme’s footsteps became even more rapid.

“ I knew you had it!” Esme shrieked as she reached where Violet once stood. Esme swiped her arm rapidly in hopes of hitting the young girl but Violet ducked to the floor quickly as she rolled away from the insane woman. Klaus took this opportunity to slide a bit further into the mail chute, holding Sunny close to him as he placed the Snicket file into his pocket. Esme pressed herself against the small hole that she unironically made. She reached in as far as her arms would allow her, barely able to touch Klaus’ hair. Esme whined and whimpered trying desperately to get an actual grasp on the boy’s hair. Her fingers fell through it before she could get a good grip. Klaus had half a mind to smack her hand back but he felt like that would give her something more concrete to grab onto so he just hoped that she wouldn’t be able to get him by the hair. “Gimme...gimme...it’s mine,” she whimpered terrifyingly.

Klaus backed up further into the chute, nearly falling down the chute. He glanced at Sunny who knocked off one of Klaus’ shoes, causing it to slide down the chute. The shoe made a swift sliding noise as it fell down the chute that to Esme it sounded like Klaus and Sunny had slid down the chute, no longer in her arms grasp. She sighed angrily as she punched the filing cabinet that created the obstacle for her. She turned harshly towards where Violet was heading. Violet was already trying to move the filing cabinets away from the door. Esme cackled as she smirked towards the young girl. The fourteen-year-old grunted and cried in frustration as she tried to push the filing cabinets out of her way. Esme waved to Violet as she pushed another row of filing cabinets towards her. Violet jumped out of the way just in the nick of time.

“I’m okay!” she called out for her siblings. She didn’t know if they had stayed at the entrance of the chute or if they had decided to start crawling now.

“ Not for long you’re not!” Esme screeched.

“Leave me here!” Violet insisted. “I’ll meet you back in our filthy, cold, inappropriate home!”

“ You’re all alone, Violet!” the woman began to cackle louder. “ How does it feel?”

Violet pressed her back against one, breathing heavily. Her hands were shaking too much, she was still unable to tie her hair up. “Come on,” she whispered as she listened to Esme’s footsteps. But then suddenly, to Violet’s horror, Esme’s footsteps disappeared. The only sound Violet could hear in the Library of Records was the sound of her terrified breathing. She closed her eyes, trying to slow her breathing down. “Do the scary thing first...get scared later,” she reminded herself.

She peered from the side of the filing cabinet. The coast was clear. She ran behind a new filing cabinet wondering why she was unable to hear Esme’s footsteps. Had the woman given up?  Violet glanced around frantically until her eyes caught a door labeled ‘Exit’ that hadn’t been blocked by Esme’s terrifying game of Dominoes.

As Violet peered around the new filing cabinet, a loud swish! Came from behind her as Esme had taken off one of her stiletto shoes and threw it towards Violet.

“Shit!” Violet screamed, ducking quickly as the woman’s dagger heel flew passed Violet’s head entirely and had struck itself into one of the few upright filing cabinets. It stuck into the metal filing cabinet with a loud, metallic thud! That had Violet’s heart racing. She glanced at the shoe, imagining her head impaled and stuck to the side of filing cabinet as if Violet’s head were one of an animal that Esme and Olaf were going to hang on their wall once they were done with her. She shuddered as she ran desperately for the exit door.

Esme holding her second shoe, growled at Violet, as she began to, once again, push the filing cabinets down haphazardly. Violet continued to run as fast as she could, panting and desperately trying to reach the door. As filing cabinets she was merely passing by began to topple and fall all around her. The sound surrounding her was becoming all too much for Violet as she placed her hands over her ears as she ran.

Now the hardest part about life on the lam is that you have to keep moving, and Violet knew that all too well from her many years living with her father, who was on the run for a crime that he may or may not have actually committed. Violet knew that you would have to keep moving, often in a direction that seems wrong, dangerous, or an agonizing combination of both. Sometimes, as in this moment, in the life of Violet Snicket, there simply isn’t any other choice to make, even if you end up regretting your actions for the rest of your life...however short that may be.

Violet reached the door labeled ‘Exit’ with a thud! She grasped the doorknob and desperately began to turn it.

“ Give it to me!” Esme shrieked from behind Violet. Violet turned around to see Esme holding her remaining shoe up high over her head. “ And I’ll let you go, I promise!”

Esme reached the door that Violet had given up on as she stabbed her shoe deep into the door. Violet grabbed hold of the other door, right next to it. She struggled with the doorknob as Esme struggled to loosen her shoe from the door she had just stabbed. Finally, with a loud inhuman grunt, Esme pulled her stiletto from the door as Violet moved on to the third door.

“You’re a terrible actress, Esme!” Violet screamed.

Esme brandishing the stiletto shoe with the cruelest smile that Violet had ever seen on anyone including Olaf, stepped closer to the girl. “ Come to Mother!” she hissed as Violet struggled with the third door. Violet began to pound on the door.

“ Help! Someone help me!” she cried as the doorknob began to jiggle. Violet’s face lit up as the door opened, only to pale and lose all color the moment the door was open.

“ Hello, hello, hello,” Olaf hissed. One hand on the door, another in the air waving at Violet.

Violet’s eyes widened as she tried to close the door before she could even move the door a fraction of an inch, Olaf stepped forward, wrapping his arms around. Violet struggled in his grip, but he only tightened his arms.

“ No! Let go of me!” Violet squealed before one of Olaf’s spider-like hands crawled up her torso to her mouth, clapping down harshly around her mouth. Muffling any screams that Violet would produce. Esme smirked at Violet as she pushed one more row of filing cabinets down for fun.

“Isn’t it wonderful when we work together?” she asked Olaf as she placed her stiletto heel underneath Violet’s chin, the stiletto so close to the girl’s throat that she stopped struggling in Olaf’s grasp. Esme got in Violet’s face, offering the girl a cruel smile. “ One down...two to go,” Esme hissed as she patted Violet on the head.

Olaf and Esme began to cackle wickedly as they celebrated their win. Violet glanced back towards the mail chute, not able to entirely see in but she hoped that they were gone. She hoped that Klaus and Sunny listened to her. She didn’t want them to see her like this. Helpless and scared, with Esme’s knife still near her throat, she knew fighting would be stupid.

But unfortunately, for Violet Snicket is that her two younger siblings were huddled closely together at the entrance of the chute. Both shaking and trembling with fear. It would be useless for me to describe to you how desperate and terrified these two children felt as they watched Olaf wrap his arms around their sister and as they watched Esme poke at her with her stiletto shoe. There was no reason for me to describe how horrible it was to hear Violet’s frantic footsteps as she had crossed the Library of Records, or the odd, tottering ones of Esme as she had pursued the eldest orphan relentlessly. The sound of the filing cabinets creak- ing and crash- ing all around embedded into their psyches. It is unnecessary to describe the cramped and difficult journey Klaus and Sunny made up the chute, which was slanted so steeply that it felt to the two orphans like they were crawling up a large mountain covered in ice instead of a fairly short chute used for depositing information. It is ineffectual to describe how the two children felt as they watched Olaf and Esme force Violet out of the Library of Records after hissing several threats to her. It would be baseless for me to describe how the children felt when they had reached the end of the chute, which was another hole, carved into the outside wall of Heimlich Hospital, and found that Hal was right when he said it was going to be a particularly cold evening. And it is absolutely futile, a word which here means, ‘useless, unnecessary, and ineffectual, because there is no reason for it,’  to describe how Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire felt as they sat in the unfinished half of the hospital, with drop cloths wrapped tightly around them to keep them warm and flashlights lit around them to keep them company, and waited for Violet to show up because Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire were not even thinking about these things.

The two orphans sat huddled together, clutching Violet’s locket, her father’s wallet, and the infamous Snicket file, as the night grew later and later. And all hope of Violet escaping Olaf and Esme herself was growing fainter and fainter, the two younger siblings were not thinking about the noises they heard coming from the Library of Records, or about the journey up the chute, or even about the cruel, icy breeze as it blew through the plastic sheets and chilled the Baudelaires to the bone. Klaus and Sunny were thinking about what Violet had said when she saw the film that Klaus was now holding.

‘I never thought I’d live to see the day,’ Violet had said, and her two siblings knew that the phrase was just another way of saying, ‘i’m very surprised,’ or ‘this blows my mind beyond belief!’. But now, as the two Baudelaires waited more and more anxiously for their big sister, Klaus and Sunny began to fear that the phrase Violet used was more appropriate than she ever would have guessed. As the first pale rays of the morning sun began to shine on the unfinished half of the hospital, the two plucky Baudelaires grew more and more frightened that their sister would not live to see the day.