#I saw this and my immediate thought was VFD

[lesbian-in-leather]

📓

YAY okay so asoue is still currently living in my mind rent free so here's one of the many fics I keep thinking about instead of writing:

Post series, after ten year old Beatrice II has found Lemony, she decides to try and work out the truth of VFD, because she realises that the stories she's grown up on were incredibly biased and that the people involved were real people with their own motivations beyond what the Baudelaires saw

(this revelation is prompted partially by hearing Lemony and the Baudelaires disagree on certain things that happened / how people acted, but also by her finding some old films made by Gustav where he recorded the Sugar Bowl Gen while they were growing up and being trained, just messing around and having fun together, summer trips to Lake Lachrymose, rehearsals for self-written plays, etc.)

(can't decide if Sunny would be on Beatrice's side about this or Violet and Klaus'. Leaning towards Beatrice's for the Drama of it all, and she was too young to remember most of what happened anyway)

Bea begins trying to track down former members of VFD, and sends out open communications through all the old channels to say that there will be a ceasefire between both sides of the schism, and any Volunteers or Firestarters that wish to come should go to the rebuilt Hotel Denouement

Obviously Lemony and the Baudelaires go (mostly to ensure that everyone obeys the ceasefire) and Frank and Ernest are there because they gave permission for their hotel to be used, but they have no idea who else will show up

And at this point my ideas keep branching out in different directions and even I don't know how it would go (but I realise this post is already getting long so I've put the various ideas for different characters under the cut. Honestly I had no idea I'd thought about it this much until I went to write it down)

Esmé

She is absolutely alive in every version of this fic. She survived the fire and I refuse to hear differently

However, in most versions at least, she has convinced the world and the other members of VFD that she's been dead for over a decade, until she then just... appears

Probably ignorant of Olaf and Kit's deaths, which leads to her first moment of vulnerability in front of the others (when she finds out what happened to them). This could potentially turn into a full blown or at least semi-redemption arc for her, but I prefer to see it as just an expansion of "the Firestarters weren't evil, but they certainly weren't good either"

She would probably arrive with Carmelita [see Carmelita's section for more on that]

If Carmelita is present, then she's the reason Esmé decides to stay - she refuses to leave her daughter alone with VFD, because she absolutely does not trust them, despite the ceasefire (she knows that they'd do anything if they could justify it to themselves, and risking Carmelita's life could easily be justified with VFD's warped morality)

She is more honest* with Beatrice II (and any other kids) than any of the other adults, because she was always the least enamoured by VFD's teachings, which only furthers Bea's crisis

For the purposes of this fic, I decided Bea's father is Olaf, and Esmé realises it very quickly (Bea reminds her of him in both looks and mannerisms, plus the timelines match up for the last time she knows he was with Kit) and reveals the truth to Bea quite early on

In basically every version she also has fire-related trauma from The Penultimate Peril that she still hasn't dealt with, which is relevant for certain other plotlines [see the Quagmire section] that sometimes come up, but also emphasises her own humanity; she is no longer the terrifying villain - she's still cruel, and vain, and even terrifying (especially to the Baudelaires; I think a lot about their immediate panic response to hearing her laugh again for the first time), but she's also a human person who flinches when a log cracks on the fire

If Beatrice is alive [see Beatrice's section] their relationship would cause conflict with basically everyone else. Contrary to what everyone expects, Esmé isn't furious to find out Beatrice survived - in fact, she seems oddly relieved, and even a little impressed (though she is quick to point out the hypocrisy of Beatrice leaving her children to suffer at the hands of the Firestarters while lecturing everyone else on morality)

The two of them have an odd understanding of one another that makes Beatrice less trustworthy to Violet and Klaus, but serves to make Esmé seem more trustworthy to Bea (and works towards the building understanding between her and the other kids, if they're present)

*by honest, I mean she tells her version of the truth. She is obviously still very biased, but she doesn't tend to try and deliberately conceal anything to do with the other adults or VFD in general, which most of the other adults do because they either want to protect the kids, they have been trained to keep secrets, or they don't want the children to think ill of the Noble adults (especially the dead ones)

Beatrice

I absolutely believe she survived the initial Baudelaire fire, and in this fic her plot goes one of three ways

The first is that she survived the initial fire, but was a patient at Heimlich Hospital and died in the blaze, which leads to the Baudelaires having a lot of guilt, blaming themselves, but then also Violet in particular realises that, before she was a patient, she was fit and healthy (and yet never announced herself to save her children)

This is especially relevant with Bea starts researching, because she'd discover that Beatrice went to Duchess R's ball during the events of the series, so not only was she alive, but she was enjoying herself while her children suffered at the hands of her former friends and associates (this also causes conflict between the kids and Lemony because he didn't tell them)

I don't imagine this version of her plot too often, but I do like the angst potential of the Baudelaires trying to conflate the version of Beatrice that they remember with the woman that they learn about throughout the narrative, especially since I think Klaus would be more concerned with defending her memory than finding out the truth

The second and third versions both involve her surviving and arriving at the Hotel Denouement, finally finding her children again after over a decade of absence

In one version, she started the Baudelaire fire (I have a whole long post someone in my drafts about this theory), and the in other, she didn't

If she didn't, her plot revolves around trying to regain Violet's trust, and learning who her children are and how much they've changed

She wouldn't be able to deal with the fact that they don't need her anymore - that if Sunny or Bea have a nightmare then they go to Violet, and Violet herself took on the role of family protector at the age of fourteen and refuses to relinquish it [which would be a huge part of her plot, see the Baudelaire section] - because it directly contrasts with her need to be the centre of everything (I firmly believe Beatrice tries to ensure that everyone needs her more than she needs them, but suddenly none of her children need her at all)

If she did start the fire (which is my favourite version of her narrative in this fic, but it doesn't always work well with some of the other plots) then all of this would happen, but it would come with a layer of deceit to everything she did. When the truth comes out (thanks to Esmé working it out, likely due to Bea's research and because Esmé is one of the only people to see Beatrice as she truly is) Violet actively renounces Beatrice as her mother, and Klaus finally turns against her (though briefly defends her, believing her to have had a good reason), forcing her to re-evaluate the conviction she'd had in her actions up until that point

Both of these also work with her internal plot of realising her mistakes in the past, and coming to terms with the fact that, as a direct result of her choices both within the series and outside of it, she can't have the life she imagined (thanks to the way VFD raised their recruits, she honestly didn't believe that her absence would be as much of a problem - after all, she was raised without her parents, and she turned out "just fine")

Her relationship with Esmé would be incredibly complex - neither of them trust each other, but Beatrice knows she can't fool Esmé as easily as the others, and there's still a strange amount of trust between them (despite everything). In the Firestarter Beatrice plot they are initially much closer (as Beatrice's morality is even more warped, and she sees Esmé's actions during the series as her "looking after" the Baudelaires, honestly believing Esmé never would have hurt them - obviously not the case, but still), but their relationship completely disintegrates after Esmé crosses the line of revealing what Beatrice had done

Georgina

Disclaimer: while I am absolutely a multi-shipper (ESPECIALLY for the Snicketverse), I do strongly ship Georgina/Esmé and basically this whole section kind of revolves around that. My bad

As much as it very much upsets me to have her be dead, it only really makes sense for her to survive if we use the Netflix canon version of her 'death', because at least there are ways around it. She literally could not survive backing into a sawmill in full view of Olaf and the Baudelaires (and Charles and Sir). I'm sorry but she irrevocably died in the books

Now, if she is dead, I like the angst of having Esmé hoping for the opposite. Like, part of the plot to show Esmé's humanity is that, as more supposedly dead Volunteers show up, she begins to let herself hope that maybe Georgina somehow survived too. Everyone thought Beatrice's death was an absolute certainty, but once she turns up then Esmé starts waiting for Georgina. And then they get further proof that Georgina is dead, and it breaks her all over again

Having said that, I also really like the reunion between Esmé and Georgina working for this same purpose. In this version, Esmé refuses to allow herself to even consider the possibility that Georgina might have survived, until the moment Georgina walks through the door. And for the first time, Esmé completely loses her façade and just breaks down, not even caring who's there to witness it because her Georgie is alive

The third option is that Esmé and Georgina found each other a while before the events of the fic, and while I really like the dynamic it creates of this sort of comedic old-married-couple vibes, that version doesn't really work alongside some of the more serious plotlines. However it does work if that is the reason Bea starts questioning VFD, because she finally meets two of the people who she's been told are terrifying monsters her entire life, and they're just... bickering. And initially she wouldn't see the terrifying sides to them at all, which would call into question everything she'd been told, therefore kickstarting the fic in a slightly more light-hearted direction

There's also a lot of tension between Georgina and Beatrice because of their respective relationships with Esmé, which is especially useful for furthering the tension in the Firestarter Beatrice plotline

Plus if Georgina is present, we get Klaus and Violet Trauma, because Klaus is terrified she'll hypnotise him, and Violet starts second-guessing all of Klaus' decisions because what if she missed the signs again? [feeds into Violet's saviour complex, see the Baudelaire section for more]

The Baudelaires

As I said earlier, I am quite attached to the idea of Sunny being a lot closer to Bea's mindset of "hang on, these were just people, and a lot happened behind the scenes that we didn't see" because of her limited or even non-existent memories of the actual events of the books

Violet and Klaus are a lot more complex. Their journeys are very dependent on which adults survive, in terms of how quickly they realise things and how long it takes them to begin turning on each other

If Beatrice survives, she absolutely divides them, because I think Violet would be more angry than relieved. Yes, she has her mother back, but her mother was fit and able throughout everything they suffered, and just left them to it. Klaus, however, was always closer to his mother, and would be much more overwhelmed with how much he's missed her to hold her absence against her (at least initially assuming she must have had a good reason)

Regardless of which adults survive, Violet would absolutely have to come to terms with the fact that she has no idea who she is if she isn't protecting her family. She's spent every day since the fire crafting her identity around keeping them safe, and in the fic she would finally realise that she doesn't know who she is without that constant need to predict and prevent threats to them ((on a semi-relevant side note, I absolutely believe that Surface Pressure from Encanto is a Violet song))

Klaus would get along immediately with Lemony, and his plot would revolve around deciding whether or not he wants to become a member of VFD (which directly conflicts with Violet's desire to keep him safe, even though he's an adult at this point who doesn't see why she feels the need to control him. This dichotomy of protection Vs control would only be exaggerated by Georgina's presence)

If Fiona's alive, she absolutely comes between Violet and Klaus again, and exaggerates any issues they are already having (their internal plots, whichever Beatrice plot is in play, their issues with each other's chosen life paths, their problems with Sunny and Bea's investigation, etc)

I think the fic would have to ultimately end with Violet renouncing VFD altogether, and going off on her own to figure herself out, while Klaus begins to work with VFD under the tutelage of Lemony. Sunny and Bea's fate is a lot more up in the air, and very dependent on which adults are present, as their investigation would be the main driving force behind the narrative that would shape their individual journeys a lot

Carmelita

I like the idea that she has been semi-trained as a member of VFD, in the sense that she thinks she's received the same training, but Esmé actually gave her a much less traumatic version of the shit they were all forced into as kids, which would be something she'd discover (and potentially resent) over the course of the fic

In one early version of this fic, I though about Lemony kidnapping her in order to recruit her for the new VFD, and they only find out Esmé's alive because she comes in to save her kid (this also reinforces all the negative things Esmé's spent over a decade telling Carmelita about the supposedly-noble side of the schism)

She would also learn to adapt her worldview and become slightly less biased over the course of the fic, because she (like Beatrice II, the Baudelaires, and potentially the Quagmires + Fiona) would be realising how distorted their view of all the adults became after being raised on one side of the schism

If Quigley survives (which I also constantly change my mind about, again, see the Quagmire section) then the two of them start off completely at odds (Kit and Jacques Vs Esmé and (to a much lesser extent) Olaf), but eventually I think they'd start to realise the similarities in what they were taught, as well as recognising the flaws in the adults on their own side

The Quagmires

These three change a lot, but their stories are inherently linked so it made more sense to group them instead of giving them each their own section

I briefly considered the possibility of none of them surviving, but usually it works a lot better if at least one of them got out also it's my fic daydream and the Quagmires being dead makes me too sad

However, they wouldn't arrive until later, giving the initial angst of everyone believing them to be dead

Sometimes Quigley survives on his own (which leads to a lot more drama in his subplot with Carmelita, because he goes from blaming himself to realising that, as a thirteen / fourteen year old, it is absolutely not his fault that he was attacked by a sea monster. Also Kit was literally there and escaped, and this can further his disillusion with the version of the Snicket twins that the Volunteers choose to remember)

Sometimes it's just Isadora and Duncan, as Quigley, Fiona, Fernald and Captain Widdershins had VFD training and sacrificed themselves to save them. In some versions, this happened but the Volunteers didn't die, though Isadora and Duncan temporarily believe they did

If all three of the Quagmires survive, Quigley definitely mirrors Violet as well as Carmelita. Because of the training that links him to Carmelita, he feels that he has to protect his siblings (especially since he failed to do so for so long and they had to suffer while he was being trained - something that would come up in his disillusionment arc as Kit and Jacques were both far more aware of his siblings' situation than they let on, and could have helped them earlier on if they had chosen to)

Isadora and Duncan would both absolutely have a lot of trauma that they never unpacked, especially to do with fire. We know from the book canon how much the fire affected the Baudelaires, and Isadora and Duncan were actually in their house as it was burning down, so they have very similar reactions to fireplaces as Esmé does

I also like the idea of Esmé helping the two of them work through their trauma while simultaneously dealing with her own, and the other adults don't realise she's being nice to them for a long time, because she does so in secret

However, Duncan and Isadora would absolutely struggle accepting help from Esmé, and it would lead to a rift between them as one of them began to trust her faster than the other. Quigley would be absolutely against any association with Esmé at all, but finding out that she's been secretly helping his siblings would be a turning point in his plot with Carmelita

This leads to a very fun subplot revealing that Esmé and the Quagmire parents were in fact very close friends, and that, throughout the series, Esmé was actually working behind the scenes to protect the Quagmires, because she felt very responsible for their situation after having placed them at Prufrock (as per their parents' request). She was the one that ensured they were fed regularly while in Olaf's capture, and she was the reason he kept them both alive instead of killing one and keeping the other for the fortune (obviously very bare minimum, but she's still not a good person, and she was very aware that if Olaf realised she cared about them, there was a very significant risk of him dropping her, so she had to be subtle)

One of the old files Bea uncovers includes a photograph of Esmé and the Quagmire parents, each holding one of the triplets as babies. This leads to a long arc, during which it is revealed that the Quagmire parents were Firestarters. In the Firestarter Beatrice version, Beatrice reveals this in retaliation to Esmé revealing she started the Baudelaire fire, or vice-versa. Esmé deliberately conceals the Quagmire parents' allegiance because she sees how the Baudelaires are responding to Beatrice's questionable decisions, and she doesn't want the Quagmires to think of their parents that way

The Widdershins Family

If the three of them survive the Great Unknown, I usually imagine them doing so together. However, I do really like the potential rift dead!Widdershins would cause between Fernald and Fiona, due to the years Fernald spent apart from them, and Fiona not feeling like he has the right to grieve him. Especially if Widdershins died protecting Fernald (plus I don't really have an arc for Widdershins to go through. Sorry my guy)

Part of Fernald's subplot (if he survived) would be facing up for his part in what happened to the Baudelaires, despite Fiona's objections ("I was just following orders" is not a good enough excuse, especially now that the kids are older and think back on how the White Faced Women disobeyed Olaf when he crossed a line and left, meaning Fernald could have done the same at literally any time)

Fernald also is called out for his creepy, predatory behaviour towards Violet (who is literally younger than his kid sister) and she absolutely refuses to forgive him, leading to conflict with Klaus (who wants to at least give him a chance for Fiona's sake. This is also partially because he never really saw much of the shit Fernald said to her in the book canon, as it was usually when they were alone, and Violet didn't want to worry her siblings)

A large part of Fiona's plot would be trying to clear her brother's name by uncovering the truth behind Anwhistle Aquatics, as she believes Fernald to be innocent. The truth would be somewhere in the middle, emphasising the overarching theme of grey-morality within VFD

#asoue #the lesbian herself #kap #thanks for the ask!! #daydream fics #writing this out was very fun #might actually write this fic after all #but i have no idea which version i would do #can i write an au of my own fic #can you tell that i spend too much time daydreaming

[beatricebidelaire]

some things never change

pairing: Kit Snicket / Esme Squalor

nostalgia and déjà vu, old habits and ex-girlfriends. kit snicket's guide to getting over the most recent ex by hooking up with an earlier ex.

word count: ~1.7k

alt: ao3

Kit shakes the glass of lemonade in her hand, watching the ice cubes stir in the drink, and then raises the glass up to her mouth. A small thrill shoots through her as her teeth crack down on the ice, satisfying yet not nearly quite perfectly satisfactory at the same time. The unsatisfied part of her craves for more, craves for another bite. She drinks again, waiting for the inevitable ice cube to flow in.

She chews on it.

“Katherine, darling, I see you haven’t changed,” the voice of Esme Squalor drawls. Esme sits down beside her without waiting for an invitation, observing her up and down boldly without trying to hide what she’s doing. She’s wearing a penciled shirt, same as Kit remembers from the last time they saw each other.

The past memories and the present scene overlap for a moment, blurring the lines together. It’s as if years hadn’t already passed since they saw each other.

“You haven’t, either,” Kit says. “That’s the same skirt as I remember you used to wear.”

“Penciled skirts are making a comeback again after 6 years,” Esme says immediately, as if worrying she’s going to be accused of being out of fashion, “it’s very in right now.”

Has it been six years, already? Perhaps it has.

“I’m sure it is,” Kit rolls her eyes. “In this case, you haven’t changed your tendency to follow the latest trends.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Snicket,” Esme says archly.

“It isn’t,” Kit says sincerely. “It’s never been.”

Esme huffs. “Well, I certainly don’t expect you to understand.”

“And I’ll take that as a compliment,” Kit replies, not missing a beat.

“You really are as weird as ever,” Esme shakes her head.

Maybe she’s not the only one that feels like tonight is just a day after that night six years ago, Kit thinks.

“So, I heard you and Miss Feint broke up,” Esme says conversationally.

VFD rumor network is functioning as fast as ever, apparently. It hasn’t even been three days. “And I heard you and O did,” Kit replies.

“I wouldn’t call it breaking up,” Esme sniffs. “Just stopping our arrangement.”

“Right, the arrangement where you visit my cousin at her carnival and ‘exchange information’.”

“Exactly,” Esme nods. “But her information has been getting unreliable, and I’ve been getting bored, and it’s a hassle to travel to the Hinterlands these days now that automobiles are no longer in.”

“Really, no one has informed me of that,” Kit muses. “And here I was thinking of inviting you into one later.”

“I might just take you up on it,” Esme’s eyes sparkled. “All the fashionable people know that while automobiles are not in for us to ride in or drive in at the moment, it’s still completely in to enjoy other activities in it if it’s not moving.”

“Did you just make this up right now?” Kit asks, incredulous.

“Of course not,” Esme says, sounding aghast. “I will never be so unprepared. Obviously I already had them add this to the details of Innest Trends This Month before I met with you.”

“Of course you did,” Kit sighs. “Of course you did..”

“I’ll have you know, Snicket, I’m a woman who does proper planning. That’s what makes me such an excellent financial advisor.”

“And here I thought it’s because you continue to eliminate other financial advisors who are ranked higher than you in the field.”

“And what do you think that requires, Snicket?” Esme asks long-sufferingly.

“…….. proper planning?” Kit asks with a sigh.

“Now you’re learning.”

“Did your proper planning methods not tell you that my brother has the taxi at the moment?”

“Now you’re just lying,” Esme narrows her eyes at Kit.

“How could I have just lied if all I did is ask a question? How could I have lied if I didn’t make any statements?” Kit asks.

“You and your word games, Snicket,” Esme huffs. “Plus, just moments earlier you said that you were thinking about inviting me onto your taxi.”

“Maybe that’s the part where I lied,” Kit suggests.

“You’re the worst, Snicket, do you have the taxi or not?”

“Actually, B drove it away,” Kit says easily. “He borrowed it to run some errands.”

“Which B?”

Kit shrugs ambiguously.

“It doesn’t matter,” Esme says decisively. “Aside from proper planning, I’m also good at improvising.” She stands up from the chair beside Kit, and then plants herself onto Kit’s lap in an instant, and then turns her upper body to face Kit. “You should’ve known that by now, Katherine darling.”

“Pass me my drink,” Kit says calmly, as if nothing has just happened.

“I’m not your secretary, Snicket,” Esme says.

“No, my secretary will be more obedient,” Kit agrees. “You, on the other hand, are totally helpless in this aspect.”

“Two compliments in one night, Snicket? I’m blushing,” Esme drawls.

“Really?” Kit says dispassionately. “It’s really hard to see, with all your make-up on.”

“Get new glasses,” Esme suggests sweetly. “You can ask your obedient secretary to order one from Dr. Orwell.”

“I don’t actually have a secretary, unfortunately,” Kit says, faking a sad sigh.

“I thought that’s what Bertrand is,” Esme says.

“Absolutely not, didn’t I just say my secretary will be obedient?”

“Exactly, isn’t that exactly the kind of person he is?”

Kit gives Esme a “you don’t know a single thing” look.

“Oh please, Snicket, you know that man has a reputation,” Esme says, raising an eyebrow.

“Reputation and reality are often different things,” Kit shrugs. “Some would say I have the reputation of being a dangerous driver.”

“They’re not wrong, I’ve experienced your driving.”

“Now you sound like my brother.”

“Oh you take that back, Snicket,” Esme snaps.

“I didn’t even say which brother,” Kit says, amused.

“Doesn’t matter,” Esme says. “It’s insulting all the same.”

Kit rolls her eyes. “I suppose my earlier compliments even this one out, then.”

“Fine,” Esme says, reluctantly. She leans closer into Kit’s face, “Snicket, you look older.”

“Well, you see, there’s this thing called the passage of time,” Kit says evenly, refusing to let herself be affected by the lack of distance between them or be distracted by the shape of Esme’s lips. “Six years does that to a person.”

“Especially if the said person is also a workaholic,” Esme murmurs. She runs her finger down Kit’s cheek slowly.

Esme has always touched her differently than Ellington did, Kit can’t help think. Ellington’s touches are warm and real, Esme’s are light and teasing.

It’s been six years, it’s annoying how she still remembers.

“I’m not a workaholic,” Kit says, just to be contrary. “I’m a volunteer.”

“Volunteeraholic, then,” Esme says impatiently.

“That’s not a real word,” Kit retorts.

“One phone call to Geraldine from me and it’ll be the innest word to use to insult someone next month.”

“I wouldn’t think of it as an insult,” Kit says dismissively.

“Of course you wouldn’t, you have issues, Snicket.” Esme rolls her eyes. “Always did, always will.” She grabs onto Kit’s chin with her fingers. “Like i said, you haven’t changed much, aside from looking older. I bet you still taste the same, too.”

“What did I taste like?”

“Self-righteous, hypocritical, pretentious,” Esme immediately lists. “Basically, like Beatrice, but with a sharper edge.”

“And what did Olivia taste like?” Kit asks.

“Hesitant and eager to please,” Esme says immediately. “Flattering at first, but it gets boring.”

“Sounds like Jerome Squalor,” Kit comments.

“Information according to Jacques?” Esme asks knowingly.

“Of course not, it’s basic observations.” Kit rolls her eyes.

“You know, if your brother doesn’t make any move soon, one day a rich guy like Squalor will be stolen from right under his nose.”

Kit shrugs, unconcerned. “If J says the word, Squalor will immediately listen to any advice he has.”

“Very confident of you, Snicket. Very confident.”

“Basic observations, again.” She raises an eyebrow. “So, aren’t you going to test out your theory?”

“Of?”

“If I still taste the same.”

“How forward of you, Snicket,” Esme murmurs. “Beg me, then.”

“I hardly think I need to,” Kit drawls. “You’re the one who came to find me after you heard about Ellington and me.”

“But I never said what I’m here for, so don’t flatter yourself, Snicket,” Esme scoffs.

They look at each other.

“Well,” Kit says, “don’t say I didn’t offer you the chance to be the one to make a move.”

“What —” Esme begins, only to get cut off by Kit kissing her.

“You, on the other hand, taste differently,” Kit says, afterwards. “You used to taste like cherries, but now it’s faintly lavender.”

“Innest lipstick at the moment,” Esme retorts automatically. “Try to keep up, Snicket. Just say I taste as fashionable as always.”

Kit rolls her eyes. “Well, I wouldn’t know.”

“True, you’re clueless on fashion,” Esme sighs. “What’s this jacket you’re wearing? It hasn’t been in for like, 50 years.”

“Vintage never goes old.”

“Vintage is old, didn’t your precious volunteer dictionary tell you that? Like, pretty sure that’s part of the definition.”

“Wow, you’re quoting dictionaries now? That’s a new one.”

“I’m full of surprises, Katherine darling,” Esme says lazily.

Not really, Kit thinks. Esme has always been predictable, for Kit. Predictably annoying, predictably constantly arguing with her, predictably obsessed with fashion, predictably complaining about VFD. Ellington is the unpredictable one. It’s hard to know what VFD mission Kit does will suddenly cross a line for Ellington and be the final straw and cause irreparable damage between them.

Kit sure can use some predictability tonight.

“You said automobiles aren’t in, so how did you get here?”

“I walked, obviously,” Esme says. “My place is nearby.”

So she hasn’t moved, Kit thinks. Another thing that’s still the same as six years ago. The line between memories and current time blurs again.

Nostalgia is a funny little thing.

“Do you still have that terrible sofa that’s basically impossible to sit on?”

“That sofa wasn’t for sitting, don’t be ridiculous, Snicket,” Esme huffs. “It’s an artwork. And no, I got rid of it when it’s no longer in 3 years ago. In fact, I have a lovely new sofa right now.”

That’s what Kit has been counting on Esme to say. Esme, predictable Esme. “I very much doubt its loveliness —”

“Come see for yourself, then,” Esme says immediately, just as Kit expected.

“Fine,” she says, sounding just the right amount of skeptical.

They head back to Esme’s place, while Kit texts Bertrand to tell him there’s no need to come pick her up. He texts back a very succinct, “E?”

She decides to not reply.

#asoue #kit snicket #esme squalor #kitme #otp: enemies with benefits #my writing

[luluwquidprocrow]

welcome home

originally posted: april 5th, 2018

word count: 2,186 words

rated: teen

jacques & kit & lemony

angst, family, VFD, mentions of vfd recruitment, a whole lot of sadness

summary: Everything changes, after Stain'd-by-the-Sea.

opening notes:

jewishsnickets posted this wonderful heartbreaking art and the second I saw it all my fanfic instincts went wild, as if I wasn’t in the middle of writing at least seven other fanfics, and I dropped EVERYTHING to write this super sad fic, and I regret NOTHING

.

The last time I saw my brother, he was smuggling me onto a ship, and we did not know it was going to be the last time we saw each other. The last time before that was at a housewarming, attended by a number of people I had not seen in quite some time, where the woman I loved held my hand with both of hers, and I could believe that everyone in the room, including myself, was fine, a word which here means “had not lived a life of moral uncertainty.” The last time before that was a series of meetings disguised as a lonely teenager sitting on a park bench, flicking the ends of cigarettes that were not actually cigarettes into the nearby bush, to give him information I still tried to believe was worth the effort. The last time before that was not long after I resurfaced from my apprenticeship, when I was having an argument with our sister in the library at headquarters, who had herself recently resurfaced from her own tumultuous apprenticeship.

I had come back to the city with an uneasy but fervent hope about what my siblings and I would discuss. I was fifteen, and I hadn’t seen either of them—to talk to, that is—in three years.

I did not like arguing with my sister. What I did not like more, however, was how much time had changed us. Three years, in the grand scheme of what we call life, is not that long a time. But for a volunteer, it was long enough. It was long enough for one of us to wonder too much. It was long enough for the other to believe she understood.

“If you don’t want to help, fine,” Kit said, keeping most but not all of the irritation out of her voice. “That’s fine, L. But don’t take it upon yourself to interfere regardless.”

“I was not interfering,” I said. “Interfering is a word which here means involving yourself in someone’s business on purpose, and all I did was—”

“All you did was ruin months of research,” Kit snapped. She gestured to the stack of files she'd left on the table in the library, the stack of files on which my teacup had fallen and ruined several pages of ink and photographs. “What's gotten into you?”

I hadn’t intended to drop it. I hadn’t even intended to read my sister’s files. But the moment I caught a glimpse of my sister’s name, as I walked by holding my cup of tea, I stopped, and the moment I caught a glimpse of the content of the files, my hands had started to shake, and before I knew it, the tea was on the papers instead of remaining in my cup like a responsible cup of tea. And then there was my sister, staring at me as if she’d never seen me before, and I remembered what it was like to watch a friend turn into a stranger.

I wanted to think that my sister had, at one point, been the sort of person who would not refer to the young children our organization watched as 'research,’ but I was no longer sure. Part of me wondered if her anger was more because I was responsible for the situation that put Kit in the hands of untrustworthy legal authorities, and a deeper part of me wondered if she would ever forgive me. I reminded myself that Kit was not nearly so petty, but that look had not left her face.

“Nothing's gotten into me,” I said, which ranks high, although certainly not at the top, on the list of unconvincing lies I’ve told in my life.

“Those are volunteers, those are your future associates, and I can’t believe you would recklessly jeopardize their chance to be noble!”

But I would. I had not forgotten what happened when I tried recruiting people I considered my friends into our organization. I was not going to forget what I had done for our organization. I was not going to forget anytime soon. But there was no chance of me admitting that, as long as my sister had that fierce look on her face, as long as we were in a library that had once been a comfort but was now narrowing around me to the point that I wondered how much longer I would be able to look like I was breathing properly.

Kit lowered her hand. “You’re not a child anymore, you know. Your apprenticeship is over. This is what we’re supposed to do.”

“Is it?” I said, struggling to keep my voice level. “Is this what we’re supposed to do?”

“L, you yourself said that we were the true human tradition—”

The words were out before I could stop them. “What if I was wrong?”

Kit stared, almost in disbelief. “A volunteer is never wrong,” she said immediately. “And a Snicket can’t afford to be wrong, either.”

I do not know how I left the room. I know I moved, and I know Kit said something else, and I know I slammed the door, and I know I passed someone in the hallway, but I also know that my vision only became clear again when I made it outside.

The east courtyard was dark and shadowy, which didn’t help the tightness in my chest. I couldn’t see much, and the undeniable darkness reminded me of long, uneasy years spent alone, wondering what would happen to me. I thought about it again, and I still didn’t have the answer. I felt my way over to a bench and sat down. I did not want to look at the stars, so I frowned at the grass instead and thought about breathing until I could think about my sister.

I loved my sister very much. Not only because she was my sister, as you are under no obligation to like your siblings if you do not want to, but because she was my best friend. Before our apprenticeships, we had done a number of things together, from recommending books to breaking into buildings to figuring out puzzles, and had trusted each other over everyone else. She always knew exactly what to say, even when she wasn’t there, and the things she told me made sense.

I could not reconcile the Kit who stood in the library with the sister who promised me she would be there for me. What was worse was that I could not remember a time where my sister and I were not working for our organization. I could not remember a time where we were not, after all was said and done, after everything I wanted to think, volunteers.

I heard a voice behind me.

“Lemony?”

In the coming years, I would learn to keep my back to any available wall, not just so that I could make a quick exit, but so that no one could sneak up behind me. It is uncomfortable for anyone to have someone unknown lingering behind them with equally unknown motives, but I do not think it is too much to say that I in particular found it distressingly horrifying. My blood went cold, and all the air left my lungs again, and I whirled around with the unrealistic but visceral expectation that they had caught up with me.

I did not know who I feared more. Ellington, her question mark eyebrows curled deep around her wild eyes. Her father, his smile unlike the one in his photograph. The Bombinating Beast, its wild, flickering tongue. Moxie, the bandage still on her arm, avoiding my gaze. I did not want to see them. I wanted to be left alone.

It wasn’t any of them.

It was my brother.

He looked very much how I remembered him. He was still taller than I was, with something of Kit in his face and probably something of me. I should have been relieved to see him standing there, to see my brother in person after so long, but I did not know what I felt. There was very little I could feel, besides how fast my heart was beating.

Jacques sat down beside me and smiled, but he couldn’t hide his concern. “Kit said something about research she'd been working on.”

I shrugged, and then I waited. I waited for all the things I expected Jacques to tell me, what I had imagined on the darkest nights of my life. It would be worse than Kit yelling at me, because Jacques wouldn’t yell. Jacques would be quiet, and would ask me, almost kindly, what I was doing, the same way he always asked me, only now the phrase would hold so much weight I wouldn’t be able to take it.

“I don’t think that was her only copy,” Jacques said instead. “I think she was just frustrated, that’s all.”

I should have known. I stared at my hands and told myself I should have known. Not only was my sister truly angry with me, but I had not stopped anything.

“I haven’t seen you in—it must be three years now,” Jacques continued. I could hear a smile in his voice, and that caused me an even deeper misery. “You look a little taller, brother.”

“I hear that’s how it works,” I said. There was something clipped and bitter about my voice, and I regretted it instantly. This was not how I expected either reunion with my siblings to go. It was less than what I had hoped, beyond what I had worried.

Jacques put his hand on my shoulder. “Would you like to talk about it?”

I did not want to talk about it. I did not want to talk about what I had thought of, what I had realized in the past three years, what I had done. I did not want to talk about our sister. I did not want to talk about the thin line between being noble and being a villain, how easy it was to become uncertain, how hard it was to be disappointed in what you trusted, how loss sat around inside you like an unwelcome house guest who ate all your favorite snacks and still kept asking for more.

And yet, I felt I could ask Jacques. I could ask him, more than I could ask Kit. I could look him in the eye and still see my brother there.

“Jacques,” I began quietly, but then I found that there was a sadness in my throat where I usually expected words. Anything I could’ve tried to say would be insufficient. I was too young to be thinking the things I was. I had a feeling that when I was old enough to think them, they still wouldn’t feel right. How could you question the only thing you had ever known? And what were you supposed to do, if you were right?

I looked at my brother, and something shifted in his expression. I suppose I should’ve been comforted in seeing my own indecision reflected back at me on his face, but I was not. I was frightened. I was frightened for my brother, and I was frightened of my brother.

“We do what we have to do,” Jacques said, a tremor in his voice. He swallowed and looked away from me. “We are what we have to be.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier,” I said.

“No,” he whispered.

It was not what I wanted to hear. But it was the only truth we had.

Jacques sighed. “Lemony,” he said, “what do you think of the weather this morning?”

It was not morning. It was, in fact, too late, and at night. The corners of my eyes burned. I was fifteen and I was tired, and Jacques was eighteen and trying to hold the three of us together the only way he knew how.

“Heather?” I said. “We aren’t near any open spaces.”

“Suitcases?” my brother said. “Are you planning a trip? It’s cold this time of year.”

“Limes and cheers? That sounds like a very sour celebration, Jacques.”

We continued the game for some time. A while later, Kit came out and sat beside us, and didn’t say a single word about how inane she thought Beethoven was. We could pretend we were only siblings, not volunteers, with parents who were still alive and merely waiting for us in our house, instead of the unfathomable faces we would have to face when we entered headquarters again, or the ones we would see when we looked in the mirror.

I did not know what else would happen to us. Even after what we’d been through, there was no way any of us could know. My sister had her eyes on something else, and would not look away for a long time; my brother would second-guess his silence; I would not forgive myself, even when given the opportunity.

We were not necessarily happy, in this moment. We were a family, in this moment, and what we did know was that that could not last.

ending notes:

the disconnect lemony must feel from his associates and particularly his siblings after he returns from stain’d-by-the-sea, and the trouble these siblings must have in relating to each other after what they’ve experienced and how they’ve each processed it, is something I think about often and it gets me every time, cats. it might even out, if only a little, when they get older. but right now it sucks.

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events

[whoslaurapalmer]

3 (an afternoon long ago), 6 (all phone, no sex)

3. Which part of [an afternoon long ago] was hardest to write?

the whole thing. which is funny because the second i saw the prompt i had to get down a 357-word scene sketch (i do not always have my very original scene sketches from my first thoughts because i usually wind up taking them apart and writing around them so they just become something else, but this one i do??? 357 words in the middle of the night.) because i was immediately struck by the thought and by the idea of bertrand and lemony meeting there and was filled with a million emotions that i had to get down. 

actually writing the fic, though!! going in the next day with the intent to make it all make sense and read like good writing!!! was emotionally wrenching!!!!! getting the right amount of detail, of internal character thought, of dialogue, all to fit in, what really amounts to like, a minute, i guess?? one whole minute after fourteen years of these two not seeing each other?? sometimes it’s hard to put one word down after another because words are terrible, and sometimes it’s hard because i get consumed by a real, physical agony of whatever character i’m writing. if a character is feeling it, so am i. this is fine. this is also, terrible. i also debated a lot about, just word choices, certain sentence structures, the right balance of vfd thoughts, and had to give myself a specific deadline to stop messing with sentences and just post it so i could move on with my life. (also sometimes that is fine. sometimes i think it makes me rush things.) 

also, as i’ve said before, picking the right poem, that was difficult. still pleased with proserpine, though. 

6. Which scenes did you cut, and which were added in [all phone, no sex]?

all phone, no sex was like, such a mess when i was writing it. there were really little sentences i added or cut out, but most of it was me rewriting, and rewriting, and rewriting, the same sentences, the same dialogue, the same actions, in such minuscule different ways, because i couldn’t get the rhythm exactly right, i couldn’t figure out what all of the dialogue should be and how to get it to be as funny as i wanted it. like, the line about bertrand wearing a watch and beatrice taking it off, one of the earlier versions of it (that i happen to actually have???) was -- 

“I just mean, is it really necessary? All these pillows, Lemony! All these sheets!”

“We have one sheet.”

“All this – ” Beatrice looks around. There’s very little on this bed besides her and Bertrand. Bertrand himself offers his socks, pointing at the neatly folded little socks on the edge of the bed. “Bertrand, I will not stand for socks on this bed.”  

the original “some fun you are!” comment from beatrice went differently as well, and i struggled with moving around that crossword puzzle -- 

“Just for that, I’m filling in every answer on your crossword!”

“Bea, don’t you dare!” Bertrand races back into the bedroom, snatches the crossword from her, and takes it with him, holding it behind him as he returns to the fridge. Trust Bertrand to still care about modesty.

Beatrice sticks her tongue out at him, even though he can’t see it to fully appreciate it. “Some fun you are,” she says.

it really was just, cutting and rewriting the same kind of idea, each time. i went through the fic line by line and just rewrote like, every fifth sentence down in a notebook, and then typed it up, and then scribbled all over it in editing again, and then took out more. oh boy i just opened my notebook to last summer to see my edits and i have, in all caps, ‘pick other beatrice letters quote’ which i did not do, it was the sperm whale quote all the way through. 

lemony’s needs/knees joke was not the original joke. originally it was going to be, this is embarrassing, idk, an x files reference, but i didn’t know if it landed right or not? so i took it out, and i’m still embarrassed about needs/knees too and don’t think it’s perfect but it really did make me cackle so i think it’s better than the original -- after lemony says “i may just die, beatrice,” and beatrice says “well we can’t have that,” the joke was, “‘You know what they say,’ Bertrand puts in, raising his head. ‘Autoerotic asphyxiation would be a pretty undignified way to go, all things considered.’” i don’t know if i had recently watched that episode (i watch clyde bruckman like once a year or so) or i was just digging around in my brain for a passable situational joke?? we’ll never know. 

i don’t think there was anything big that i added? in my head it was pretty much just, the three of them being cute, and that’s what it is. and sadly, i did not ever intend to include any actual phone sex in it. have i tried? yes! do i think it’s successful? .......not entirely? writing it is an acquired skill, i think, one i have still not, totally acquired. 

#thank you!!!!!!!! #lulu talks about the sad lemon man #tangentiallly

[gellavonhamster]

good people

gen || Montgomery Montgomery & Bertrand Baudelaire || pre-canon 

ao3 link eng  || ao3 link rus

Monty Montgomery learned about the deaths of Count and Countess *** somewhere about two in the afternoon, in the lobby of the Biology Faculty of Gerald Durrell University of Natural Science. He didn’t know them personally, and that day he could not even recall their faces when reading an article about their deaths, just as many years later he could not – unfortunately – recall the face of their son, whom he did know personally back in the day and had met as often as not. At the same time, he could remember in detail the moment he heard they were dead – the hum of voices in the vast corridors of the faculty building, sunlight glistening on glass in the frames of photographs and newspaper clippings hanging on the walls, the sound of his own footsteps. He was descending the stairs, almost hopping like a kid because he had just managed to talk a teacher into letting him submit the report a day later, and consequently was in a splendid mood. Few things can compete with the joy that a student experiences when the deadline for a paper that still exists only as a title page gets postponed for a later date. Immersed in happy thoughts, he went down to the ground floor, and was just heading for the exit when he suddenly saw a crowd of students and teachers huddled together and discussing something animatedly. One of the students was holding a widely unfolded newspaper, and several people at once were reading something over his shoulder.            

“Must be a change of government or something,” Monty thought as he approached them. Frankly, the prospect of writing a paper in two days concerned him much more at that time than a hypothetical coup. 

“Ah, Montgomery!” shouted one of those reading the paper, Professor Stein of the Herpetology Department. Stein was always shouting: he had hearing problems. Now, on the other hand, a raised voice was more than appropriate, for too many people were talking at once.  

“Good afternoon, Professor,” Monty gave him a nod of greeting as he joined the group. Getting closer to the paper was impossible – the crowd was too thick. “What’s the news?”

“A murder, Montgomery! A crime story at its finest; the whole city is going insane! Come read.” At that, Professor grabbed him by the elbow and pushed him into the middle of the crowd, so that Monty found himself right behind the left shoulder of the guy with the newspaper.

He took a look at the page, found the piece everyone was reading, and grew cold.

“Poison darts! With snake venom!” Stein exclaimed. Monty winced as if in pain. The loud noises around him were distracting; he wanted to read carefully, turn each word round in his head, persuade himself it was not what he thought it was. Coincidences do happen sometimes, after all. “And where – at the opera! Right during the performance!”    

“Yeah,” someone to the right of the newspaper chimed in, “straight out of Gaston Leroy.”  

“Leroux,” Monty corrected mechanically. He was suddenly overcome with fierce and helpless anger. He stepped back. “I’m sorry, Professor, I really have to go.”  

Walking quickly, even quicker than back when he was urged on by the unwritten report, he headed for the door.

Well then, La Forza del Destino. Poison darts. Snake venom.  

And his flatmate, who went to the opera yesterday and didn’t come back home.  

 ***

 Bertrand asked him to procure the venom about a week ago.

It might have been Thursday, or maybe Friday. Monty was writing a term paper then, one that he could not set about writing earlier because he was busy doing other things, from the tasks assigned to him by VFD to attending the parties organized by other volunteers, which in some cases seemed as important to him, even vital at times. VFD gave him time to deal with the exam period, relieving him from participation in any missions for the nearest future – the pursuance of science was highly valued among their ranks. Many volunteers flaunted some academic degrees, but not many of them got those degrees officially, even if they deserved them objectively. Some Doctors and Masters among them didn’t even hold a certificate of Bachelor’s Degree. Fighting the fires, both literal and figurative, took up a lot of time and energy, leaving virtually none of it for attending the lectures or even distance education. However, the VFD members had connections – Had Connections even, capitalized – owing to which many of them got the opportunity to call themselves professors or academicians, although all their scientific contributions, sometimes absolutely groundbreaking, remained hidden from the general public.      

At the Biology Faculty, VFD Had some Connections as well, and if Monty wished so, he probably could obtain the Master’s or even Doctor’s Degree without much effort, but he had no such wish. He desired recognition and respect from the people outside the organization, desired to make discoveries that he could tell the whole world about – desired for everything to be fair. That was why he had spent the whole previous week in a kind of a time loop. Every day looked like the day before: writing, writing, writing, leafing through the sources frenziedly after another bookmark gets lost, sorting the materials collected in the expedition, drinking gallons of coffee, and occasionally sleeping. And feeding Maturin, of course. As to Monty himself, it was Bertrand who had been feeding him, which was very kind of him, because Monty couldn’t even afford the time to heat some ready-to-cook foods. Bertrand simply used to come into his room, not even knocking anymore so that not to distract him, put a plate of vegetable couscous or spaghetti bolognese or something in front of him, and leave before Monty noticed that plate. The dirty dishes he used to take away in the same manner, unnoticed. Monty had to yell “Thank you!” for the whole house to hear, to which Bertrand yelled back “You owe me!” from his room or from the kitchen. He was joking, and Monty knew that, but still planned at least to stand treat at the pub after the exams were over.      

That morning, Bertrand knocked on the door again – first came in, then knocked. That meant he needed Monty to pay attention to him.

“Hello, hello, hello!” Monty exclaimed, turning on the chair, immediately knocked one his books off the table, and bent to pick it up. “I am listening to you attentively, o dearest neighbour.”  

“You’re going to the uni tomorrow, aren’t you?” Bertrand asked.

Monty nodded. “Yeah, to submit this Frankenstein’s monster. Only the bibliography left to do.”

“You’re a hero,” Bertrand praised him. Monty thought so too, in all honesty. “Could you do something for me while you’re at it?”

“Buddy, I would’ve wasted away without you here over the last few days. What exactly do you need?”  

“I need,” Bertrand felt for something in the pocket of his trousers, took out some scrap of paper, and gave it to Monty, “a vial of venom of this snake.”  

Monty’s heart lurched. He skimmed the note.

“Oh,” he said. “No problem. There are a couple of excellent specimens of this species at the City Herpetological Centre.”

“I know,” Bertrand replied. “I thought of asking N or S, but I don’t know them well. I wouldn’t like to shoot my mouth off in front of the people I do not trust completely,” he sat down on the edge of Monty’s bed. “Not these days.”  

Monty noticed that Bertrand was trying not to meet his eyes.

“I see. Tomorrow it’ll be done.”  

“Thank you,” Bertrand smiled slightly, still not looking at Monty. Instead, he was looking at Maturin, the turtle, which was chewing on a salad leaf in its terrarium. The turtle was undoubtedly remarkable, but it wasn’t hard to see that Bertrand was rather looking through it than at it. Sooner or later that was bound to happen, Monty thought. Sooner or later, each volunteer had to do something… like that. Not necessarily related to deathly poisons and what very logically results from their use, but still something that made it difficult to look one’s friends in the eye. Like it was now difficult for Bertrand.

“Who?” Monty asked in a hushed voice. “I’m not asking about the name, I’m asking if you know that person. Or were you just given a description?”

“A description,” Bertrand echoed. He smiled again, wider and brighter, but still somewhat stiffly. “Don’t worry about me. I am not a child, I’ll handle this.”  

 ***

 “And so he did,” Monty thought as he was unlocking the door to his flat.

Bertrand was already home; there was no need to call their acquaintances or go to Kit’s place. When Monty entered, his flatmate was sitting at the kitchen table and rubbing his knuckles on one hand with the thumb of the other. His face was calm, without any trace of either tears or smile. It reminded Monty of the kind of “Closed” sign that people put on the shop doors on Sundays.      

“There you are,” Monty said, peeking into the kitchen. Bertrand gave a start and looked at him.

“Hi,” he said, and offered Monty a faint smile. It didn’t look too convincing. “How did the report thing go?”  

“They let me submit it later,” Monty told him. He didn’t know how to ask Bertrand about what was really vexing him, so he asked another question that was, in his opinion, appropriate in any situation. “Would you like some tea?”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

Monty went into the kitchen, took the teapot off the stove, shook it and made sure it was empty, filled it with water, ignited the burner, put the teapot on the stove. Having been in a hurry to check if Bertrand was home, he didn’t have time to take his shoes off, and was now stamping around the kitchen in outdoor shoes. “Gotta sweep the floor later,” he noted to himself. It came with experience – the skill of not forgetting about the dull everyday things like cleaning and cooking while your entire world was in a whirl and threatening to fall apart.    

“I saw the article in the newspaper,” he began as he took teacups from the dish drainer. Bertrand was still sitting at the table in silence, still rubbing his hands absentmindedly. “About the opera.”

“Yeah, I’ve already read it, too.”  

“You lied when you told me you didn’t know who the target was, didn’t you? When you asked me to get you the venom.”

“I did,” Bertrand agreed. He leaned back in his chair. It wasn’t hard to see by his eyes that he hadn’t caught even a minute of sleep last night. “Do we have any lemons for tea?”  

“Um?.. I think there must be some. Check the fridge. Why did you lie?”

“You had enough problems of your own. And you still do. I didn’t want you to worry about me as well,” Bertrand got up from the table, walked up to the fridge, and took out a bowl containing half a lemon. Having taken a knife and a board, he started cutting the lemon into very neat identical pieces. Everything Bertrand did was neat.  

“Yeah, you can want whatever you like,” Monty muttered. The teapot was still taking its time to boil, and just standing empty-handed and discussing the murder committed by his neighbour was unbearable, so he took a cloth and started cleaning the sink aggressively. That was not the first time he procured poisons required by other volunteers. Perhaps he hadn’t killed anyone himself – yet – but he suspected that in a sense he already was partially responsible for a number of deaths. It was scary, it was weighing down on him, it kept him up at night and made him drink and dance and party with a vengeance in the hope of forgetting himself – but that was him, and when it came to Bertrand, it was a hundred times more of a shame. Bertrand was a good person. Bertrand didn’t deserve to be turned into a murderer. Monty was hoping he could express that all in such a way as not to make it seem like his heart is aching not so much for his friend as for his own hurt feelings, but the right words just wouldn’t come.        

“You are one of the best people I know,” he finally began. Bertrand made a strange sound, something between a laugh and a sob. Monty turned and saw that he had already cut the leftover lemon and was now standing with an absent look on his face, clutching the knife. “Don’t hold the knife with the edge toward you. Fucking hell, B,” he raised his voice when Bertrand didn’t react. “Don’t hold the knife with the edge toward you, and put it down anyway!”      

The knife fell on the table with a thud. Bertrand closed his eyes, leaned on the tabletop with both hands, and lowered his head so that Monty couldn’t get a good look at his countenance.

“I keep remembering that he hit O several times when boozed up, back when O was a boy,” he spoke quietly. “He used to drink, you know – not every day, but he used to go on drinking sprees from time to time. O’s taking after him in that respect. I keep thinking back on it as if it makes an excuse for me, but it really doesn’t, you see? And she was innocent – I mean, the rational part of me gets that she wasn’t, I know who she and her husband used to finance and what they used to cover up, but all I can remember is that she was usually nice to O, and to B after she moved to the City too.” Now his voice was taut, his face burning with indignation, his former numbness gone without a trace. “How come this task was assigned to B, of all people? After they had basically accepted her as family?”        

Monty knew, personally and by repute, several Bs among their associates, but this time Bertrand didn’t have to specify who he was talking about.  

“I am angry they made you do this, you are angry they made her…”

“Because she didn’t deserve this,” Bertrand interrupted him. “Because she’s a good person.”

Monty realized that Bertrand was basically repeating word for word what he had been reflecting on earlier himself, and smiled sadly.  

“How willing we are to assure the others vehemently that they are good people,” he spoke. He was completely in agreement with Bertrand about Beatrice. She was not just fun, but also reliable, which was much more important. She looked after her own. She was vivid and loud and incredibly brave and incredibly loving, and Bertrand was right: she did not deserve this. “And never as willing to defend ourselves the same way. Perhaps that is where our hope lies? In our inability to turn a blind eye to our own faults?”    

Bertrand took off his glasses, inelegantly wiped off the tears that had broken out after all, and put the glasses on again.

“Monty,” he said gently, “you’re a good person too, you know that?”

Monty blinked, then blinked again, feeling that soon he might have to wipe off the tears too. Bertrand was one of the best people Monty knew, and he didn’t deserve to be turned into a murderer, and didn’t deserve to labour under such grave delusion about other people either – but the fact that someone still considered him a good person gave Monty confidence that despite all his wrongdoings, he still wasn’t a lost cause.  

He reached out and ruffled Bertrand’s hair.

“Sit down,” he told him. “The tea’s about to be ready.”

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events #uncle monty #montgomery montgomery #bertrand baudelaire #snicketverse #not completely satisfied w/ this one but i like some bits so let it be here #yes the name of the turtle is a reference to stephen king's it #iirc they reference danny the champion of the world as early as atwq and it was published in the 70s #and time is a construct anyway (especially in the snicketverse) so i couldn't resist #talk talk talk #gella talks snicketverse #my fic

[aseriesofunfortunatetexts]

I posted another chapter of the zombie fic! Now featuring Esmé, and her being surprisingly concerned for Kit.

You can also read it under the cut, if you want.

There’s a plume of pitch black smoke rising to the east, out in the forest. The color tells Kit that it’s still burning. She slows the taxi down to a stop and sits for a moment staring at it. She’s too late. She just hopes Charles got away before whatever happened went down.

Sir can burn for all she cares.

She knows she should continue onward to investigate, although that wasn’t her original mission. She ought to have something to show for her journey into the field, some information to bring back to Dewey at least, so he hasn’t been forced to worry about her for absolutely nothing. But the part of her that just wants to go back to headquarters argues that there will be very little left to investigate, with no firefighters on hand to combat the flames.

There’s a twinge in her gut and she immediately reaches down to touch the slight swell of her stomach. A kick? If so, it would be the first one. She’d hoped she’d be with Dewey when that milestone was reached, and that’s what helps her make up her mind. She’s writing off the mission and going to the hotel, mission be damned.

She’s just put the taxi in gear when she spots a figure on the side of the road out in the distance, walking towards her. She immediately reaches for her spyglass, hoping against hope that it might be Charles.

It isn’t. Not unless he started wearing black catsuits and elaborate blonde wigs. No, she knows who this is even though they’re too far away to make out their features.

Once again Kit is faced with a choice. She can drive up there, like her superiors definitely wouldn’t want her to do, or she can turn the taxi around and pretend like she never saw anything.

Weirdly enough the thought that crosses her mind in the last second before she shifts the taxi into gear and drives ahead is that Esmé is probably donning really impractical footwear with that outfit.

For a person who presumably just burned down a small town and a lumber mill, and fled on foot in boots with five-inch heels, Esmé looks good. Great even. When she recognizes Kit as the driver of the Snicket taxi she smiles wickedly and waves at her. Kit ignores the gesture and turns the cab around so it’s pointed back towards the City, then brings it to a stop. Esmé opens the passenger’s side door and slinks inside, making herself comfortable on the seat with a satisfied sigh. Finally she turns to Kit, “Hello, darling.”

Kit fixes her eyes on the road ahead and floors it, enjoying the way she is pressed back into the seat as the taxi lounges forwards almost as much as Esmé yelp of shock. The taxi gains speed at a much faster rate than you’d expect for a vehicle of its age, but Kit doesn’t let up until they’ve hit 100. It’s terribly irresponsible to be going this speed, even out here in the middle of nowhere, what with random Infected shambling all over the place, but Kit wants to get back to the City as fast as possible, so she can kick Esmé out somewhere relatively safe, and then return home.

Esmé takes a few miles to relax. “You’ve made your point,” she then says, tersely.

Kit doesn’t slow down. “Why did you do it?”

Esmé somehow shrugs without shrugging. “Orders.”

Kit bites down on a snide comment, realizing that she’s not really in a morally superior position this time. “Charles?” she asks, trying her hardest to sound uncaring.

Esmé gestures dismissively with one hand. “Didn’t see him.”

That’s not comforting in this world of theirs, but Kit still finds herself relaxing her press on the accelerator.

And she regrets this choice of action immediately when Esmé’s hand comes to rest on her knee. “It was very... noble of you to pick me up.” There’s an undeniable hint of mockery in her voice and nary a trace of genuine gratefulness. “Must have been a difficult decision.”

Kit doesn’t answer, but nor does she try to get Esmé hand off. Human touch is in short supply in this world, it despite everything it feels comforting. That obviously changes when Esmé inevitably starts sliding her hand up Kit’s leg, nails dragging along the fabric of her pants. Now would be the time to put a stop to this, but Kit is uncharacteristically frozen. Esmé reaches her thigh and then goes for the button of her pants.

Which is the moment her inner wrist comes in contact Kit’s stomach, and she immediately jerks her hand back as if she’d been burned. Kit doesn’t need to look at her to know Esmé is stunned, her temporary silence is enough.

Her hand darts out again, moving Kit’s jacket out of the way and exposing her middle.

“You’re pregnant?” she shrieks, loud enough for Kit to flinch. “Have you lost your mind?!”

“It wasn’t planned,” Kit replies tersely.

“You do realize there are ways to fix problems like this, right?” Esmé asks, voice still laden with disbelief.

The very thought makes Kit press harder on the accelerator as she is overwhelmed with emotion and finds no other outlet for them. She’s not going to cry in front of Esmé.

This time Esmé doesn’t react to the change in speed. “Who’s the father?”

Her gut instinct is to ignore the question, even though there’s really no reason to keep Dewey’s existence a secret anymore. What’s the other side going to do, kill him? There’s no reason, Dewey’s work no longer involves gathering evidence to put firestarters in jail, so why should they care that he’s alive and working?

“Dewey Denouement.”

“Dewey Denouement isn’t real,” Esmé says. “Or he’s dead.”

Kit sighs. “He’s real. And alive. And he’s the father.”

Esmé covers her eyes with one hand and sighs dramatically. “Immaculate conception would have been more understandable,” she asserts.

Kit doesn’t answer.

Esmé removes the hand again and out of the corner of her eye Kit can see her giving her a surprisingly serious look. “Does your side have any qualified doctors? Or a midwife?”

Kit frowns. “What?”

“Do you even know what the mortality rate is amongst women giving birth without professional help?” Esmé asks, sounding increasingly disturbed. “Imagine dying in childbirth during the apocalypse, that would be very not in, darling.”

“You still care about what’s ‘in’, do you?” Kit asks, because she doesn’t know how else to react to Esmé unexpected concern.

“Dying has rarely, if ever, been in,” Esmé says, then adds, “I’m serious. We have a couple of doctors who used to work at Heimlich Hospital in our ranks. They could help you, when the time comes.”

There should be something fundamentally wrong with considering letting some firestarter help her give birth, but Kit finds herself doing it anyway. Sure, almost all of her associates are trained in first aid, but there are no real doctors amongst them anymore. And while there are plenty of books on childbirth and care in their libraries, actual experience with the process must be vital.

Esmé must sense her wavering resolve, because she pops open the glovebox and fishes out Kit’s common place book (she still remembers that Kit keeps it there during missions, that’s almost flattering) and a pen, flipping it open and writing something down. “This is the address of one, he lives in the Free Zone, so unless you people are banned from entering the safest place in the world, you should be able to get to him.”

Kit almost tells her that, actually, all known VFD members have been banned from the City by the authorities, and they’ve had to create false identification papers by the hundreds and brush off even the oldest disguises to keep moving freely. Obviously the tunnels are still safe, and they will remain so no matter what, but sometimes you need access to the streets.

Esmé tosses the book back where she found it, “Please consider it. I would hate to see you dead.”

Kit feels tears threatening to form in her eyes again. She was never this emotional before she got pregnant. She takes a minute to compose herself, then speaks, “Thank you, Esmé.”

“You can thank me once you’ve safely delivered the ghost’s spawn and both of your made it.”

“Please don’t call my baby a ‘spawn’,” Kit says, but she finds herself smiling despite it all.

Esmé makes a dismissive sound, then asks, “Boy or girl?”

“Girl,” Kit replies.

“Is that a fact or a feeling?”

“Just a feeling.”

Esmé scoffs. “Typical. Got a name picked out yet?”

“Not yet.”

“How about Gigi?” Esmé asks. “As a show of gratitude for my help.”

“I’d rather not advertise your involvement,” Kit says. “If I can help it.”

She doesn’t need to look at Esmé to know she’s rolling her eyes. “You people are absurd, shouldn’t your safety be more important than anything?”

“I’m afraid some people will never accept it if I seek help from your side,” Kit says, and she knows it’s true.

“Then I guess we’ll just keep it between us, won’t we, darling? I can be discreet.” 

Kit lets out a bark of laughter, which morphs into a series of half-hysterical giggles. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” she finally manages to say.

Esmé doesn’t sound offended when she replies, “You forget, I’m a very good actress.”

There’s no denying that. Hell, if it weren’t for Jacques, Esmé would be married to Jerome by now, and they wouldn’t have the penthouse, the last safe place in the City for them.

Actually, Kit can’t help but gloat a little at the thought. “Too bad about Jerome,” she says.

Esmé waves her hand casually through the air. “Easy come, easy go,” she declares breezily. “He was a terrible, cowardly little man anyway.”

Kit feels unexpectedly defensive of her brother’s lover all of the sudden. “He is a kind, generous, well-meaning man.”

“Exactly. It’s incredibly pathetic.”

Kit decides not to argue any further, and the irony of doing that during a conversation about Jerome isn’t lost on her. “Where should I drop you off?”

“The edge of Zone 3 would be nice,” Esmé answers. Then she leans further back in her seat and sighs. “Wake me up when we get there.”

Kit finds herself feeling sad at the apparent end to their conversation, but she doesn’t want to appear desperate to talk with someone other than her associates, so she floors it and lets Esmé doze. Burning things down can be tiring. She knows from personal experience.

#my fic #the zombie au #Esmé Squalor #Kit Snicket

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

All Those Things They Couldn’t Say - A Runaway Baudelaires AU

{ao3} {tumblr} {masterlist}

Chapter Forty-Five - Splitting Up is Never a Good Idea

The employees headed out very quickly. Colette got the gas, and the children ran them to the car helping them carry their bags. On the walk, they did their best to assure them that yes they deserved happiness and no they did not deserve to get eaten by lions. Once Kevin got in the driver’s seat, Violet gave them all a hug, and then passed them as much money as she’d gotten together. 

“Good luck out there.” she said. 

Duncan passed them the box of food. “Puttanesca is in there for the trip, so you don’t have to stop and get the extra food from the back that fast. And this box is the hot chocolate, we steadied it as best we could.” 

Isadora handed the box to Colette, and then said, “Go find your own adventure, yeah?” 

Colette beamed over at them, blinking away tears. “Thank you so much. We don’t know how to repay you.” 

“You can repay us by getting out and living your best life.” Klaus said. 

“Luck!” Sunny wished, blowing a kiss. 

Once the car drove away, they raced back to the carnival, and Violet edged to Lulu’s tent, sneaking past the sparse guests still wandering and excitedly talking about tomorrow’s show. 

When they reached the tent, she turned and said, “We’ll be in here for only a little bit, to see if there’s somewhere she could have hidden our parents. Just stand here, and if someone comes near, come inside and tell us, we’ll break out the back.” 

They nodded, and Klaus shouldered Sunny, gave them a wave, and then the Baudelaires raced inside. 

“Okay,” Violet said quickly, as she observed the tent, “Look for hiding places.” 

Klaus put Sunny on the floor, and then ran to the nearest chest. “Locked.” 

“I got it, you check under the table for a trapdoor.” 

Klaus nodded, and as Violet started picking the lock on the chest, he lifted a tablecloth, careful not to jostle the crystal ball on top. “Hey, Vi, there’s a little library down here. Lots of paper and shit.” 

“Yeah, see? It’s just like San Fernando.” Violet nodded. She opened the chest, and shook her head. “Just costumes. I’ll dig through, though, in case there’s a switch or false bottom, but I doubt it.” 

Sunny ran to Klaus. “Mesa.” “I got the table, you check the curtains.” 

He nodded and let her crawl under before running to the curtains and pushing them aside. “A bunch of levers and gears.” 

“Cool! Dibs!” Violet called. “You get the trunk.” 

“Are we just playing hot potato with everything in this tent?” 

“Yeah, pretty much.” 

Klaus sighed and went back to the truck, and Violet pulled her ribbon and scanned the levers. “It looks like it’s just the lighting system we used in Red Acres, unfortunately. There’s the mirrors, the fan belt… except she doesn’t have a flashlight, just a hole in the tent. Probably why she seems to only tell fortunes in the morning, that’s where the sun’ll shine through.” 

Sunny crawled out from under the table, shaking paper off of herself. “Idde.” “No trapdoors or levers.” 

“There’s gotta be something.” Violet murmured, stepping back and kneeling by the bottom of the pulley system. “You’d think Olaf would trust her enough to hide someone here.” 

Klaus hesitated, before glancing up from the trunk, where he was digging through clothes, and said, “Violet?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Do you think… do you think that he’ll feed our parents to the lions?” 

Violet shut her eyes, and Sunny crawled over to him and hugged his leg, whimpering a little. 

“Do- do you remember they told us that they used to train lions? Maybe- maybe he thinks it’ll be- be funny, to feed them to-” 

“He’s been pretty insistent on killing us first.” Violet shivered. “If anything, he’ll probably want to feed us to them first, if he can find us.” 

“Hold on.” Klaus felt something light at the bottom of the trunk, and pulled it out, spreading it on the floor. Violet came over, and said, “That looks like a map.” 

“I’d say it’s of the Hinterlands.” Klaus said. “See, there’s the carnival here, and that’s Mount Fraught-” 

“Spill.” Sunny said, pointing at a brown splotch. 

“You see, Sunny,” Violet said, smiling a little as she focused, “That may look like a splotch, but considering the size, shape, and color-” 

“That’s a note of VFD headquarters.” Klaus said. 

“Pretty nearby, interesting.” Violet hmmed. “Makes sense that Lulu’s in VFD, she has the costumes and fortune-telling training and the Eye, and I bet she got most of those papers from the cult itself.” 

“Do you think Olaf knows?” 

“She’s got the eye on her tent, but he’s also an idiot, so…” 

“That’s- wait, shut up.” 

Violet quieted, and she heard what he had. 

Footsteps, getting closer. 

“The Quagmires-” he began, moving for the flap, but she grabbed his arm. 

“They’re probably not there if they’re not alerting us.” she hissed. “Come on, let’s move.” 

“But then- where-” 

“We have to get out of here first, get Sunny.” 

Klaus raced for his sister and lifted her up, and Violet grabbed his arm again and dragged him to the curtain that hid the mechanics. She shut it behind them, and they stood still a second as the tent flap opened. They heard a sigh and footsteps enter the tent; Violet signed quickly that she thought it was probably Lulu, it didn’t sound like anyone else. Klaus nodded, though he kept his eyes boring into the curtain in front of them, as if he could set it on fire and burn Madame Lulu from there, and they slowly backed up, moving their way around the wall and looking for a flap to slip under. 

They heard the woman stop outside, muttering something, and Klaus shut his eyes. They’d left the map on the floor, the chest open. Fuck. 

“Who is there, please?” 

She sounded furious. Violet edged towards the wall, but sighed when she found it wasn’t enough to slip under. Klaus clutched onto Sunny, his glare intensifying even more. 

“Who dares disturb Madame Lulu’s tent? The spirits are angry, please-” 

Violet and Klaus shared a look, and then she nodded, and tossed her smokebomb just outside. Lulu shouted as it erupted, and the children burst through the smoke, rushing past her and racing outside. Once they got out, they ran for the nearest caravan, which thank God happened to be empty, ducking inside just as Lulu came out, shouting and cursing. 

They sank to the floor of the caravan, and turned to each other. 

Klaus looked a bit distracted, staring at the door and reaching to fiddle with his jacket. “Should we have captured and interrogated her?” 

“Olaf would notice she was gone.” 

“We…” Klaus shut his eyes. “Really could’ve gotten information out of her.”

“We can try that later, maybe, but for now…”

Klaus hugged onto Sunny, and then he asked, “And where are the Quagmires?” 

Isadora bounced on her feet for the first minute or so, trying to pay attention to the bleak area around them. Her attention was then distracted when Duncan started stepping away. 

“Where are you going?” she hissed. 

“I thought I saw someone over there.” he gestured to the side of Lulu’s caravan. 

“And nobody’s coming, so we’re in the clear.” 

“I just…” he crept away. “I’ll check it out.” 

“Duncan!” 

He shrugged at her, and then strode to the side of the caravan, peering over the side. 

When an arm grabbed his and yanked him behind the caravan, then, Isadora didn’t even think, instead immediately taking off, running as fast as she could and grabbing her knife from her pocket. She slid to the side of the caravan, raising her weapon, and immediately said, “Hands off my brother!” 

She recoiled, raising the knife higher, as she locked eyes with Esme Squalor, who had a hand over a terrified Duncan’s mouth to muffle his shouts. 

“Now, now, no need for that.” Esme said. Then, to Isadora’s surprise, she lifted her hands, and Duncan stumbled out of her reach, running to Isadora’s side and grabbing her arm. “We don’t need to fight here.” 

“Pretty sure we do.” Isadora said. 

Esme sighed and moved around, circling the children. Isadora pushed Duncan behind her, backing up until they were basically against the outer caravan wall. “Of course we don’t. We don’t really have much of a problem with you two.” 

“You hurt our friends.” Duncan said, shoving a hand into his own pocket to look for a weapon. “You hurt their parents. We’re not going to let that slide, bitch.” 

Esme scoffed, putting a hand on her hip. “Really? Your friends? What have they ever done for you?” 

“It doesn’t matter. Back the fuck up or we’ll throw a knife into your head.” Isadora said. 

“Oh, please.” Esme threw up her hands, rolling her eyes. “I’m unarmed. I just want to talk.” They eyed her suspiciously. “You can pat me down if it makes you feel better.” 

Isadora hesitantly lowered the knife, though she still kept it in hand. “What do you even want, then?” 

“I want to make a deal.” Esme said. She stepped closer, and Isadora again pushed Duncan behind her. “I think we have a common interest.” 

“The hell we do.” Duncan spat. 

“Of course we do.” Esme lowered herself slightly, so she was at eye-level with the teenagers. “I suspected you all might be here, you know, but it’s nice to see I was right, like always. I’m sure you’ve heard of our little show tomorrow?” 

“Where you’re going to toss innocent, exploited people to starving lions?” Duncan hissed. 

“Yes, it’ll be grand.” Esme smiled wickedly. “But here’s the thing; the freaks need not die. There are other people I’d much rather toss to these lions.” 

“Like Lulu?” Isadora guessed. “Or the Baudelaires?” 

Esme scowled. “I will be dealing with Lulu myself. Was going to conscript the freaks to do it, but they seem to be playing hooky. But I think we can make a deal. I can ensure that Beatrice and her boytoy are watching the pit, watching their charming lions driven to eating people they like, and you-” 

“If you think we’re going to strike any kind of deal with you,” Isadora hissed, “You’re dead wrong, we’d much rather kill you right here and take off than let you manipulate our lives.” 

Esme smirked, then, very darkly. “Oh, you haven’t even heard my deal yet.” 

“You have five seconds,” Isadora said, raising the knife again, “To convince us not to kill you right here.” 

“Alright, then. I’ll make this simple.” Esme said. “If you do what I say, and help me feed these horrible, troublesome children to the lion pit, then I will give you back your brother.” 

The knife dropped to the ground. 

Isadora and Duncan were frozen an instant, breathing slow and staring hard at the smirking woman. Duncan shook, clinging to Isadora’s arm tighter and widening his eyes. Isadora, meanwhile, shook her head. 

“No.” she said. “N-no. You’re lying. You’re bluffing. Our brother died in the fire and you know that. You don’t-” 

“Well, then,” Esme said, and then she reached into a pocket and tossed something to the ground. “Guess he won’t need this.” 

Duncan and Isadora stared down at the dirt, where an unmistakable, purple commonplace book skidded in their direction. 

Isadora started to shake, and Duncan dropped to the ground, kneeling in front of the book and staring at it, as if he didn’t dare pick it up. 

“Wh-” Isadora breathed. 

“Silly boy was being loud, so we took this as a warning.” Esme shrugged, looking down at her nails instead of the distraught triplets before her. “Then he kept misbehaving, so we had to-” 

“Where is he?” Isadora’s voice broke, and she looked at Esme with such a fire in her eyes that if she’d been looking at anyone else in that moment, they likely would’ve retreated instantly. “What did you do to him?” 

“Oh, quite a bit, though I admit Olaf does most of the work.” Esme said. “Don’t worry, though, he knows all about your little stunt in the hospital. Well, no, he doesn’t, but I’m sure he knows we had a reason for his latest punishment.” 

“You… you…” Isadora gasped. Her hand reached for her knife, before remembering it was on the ground, beside Duncan. 

“But here’s the thing. We only have him for your little fortune. And I’m already fabulously wealthy.” Esme said. “I’m sure we could stand to see him go, but, well, we’ll need something in return, won’t we?” 

Isadora stared at her, shaking with fury and terror, and felt like her world was closing in around her. 

“Of course, if nothing unusual happens tomorrow, I’m sure Olaf would love to know you’re all here. But if something exciting goes down, he’ll be most thankful that our little problem is solved, so thankful that I bet he wouldn’t notice one little boy going missing.” She smirked, then stepped forwards. Isadora stood her ground, and then gasped, tears springing to her eyes, as Esme stepped on the commonplace book, grinding it harder into the dirt with her heel. Duncan, eyes still glued on the notebook, didn’t move. 

“And if you try anything before then,” Esme’s voice grew dark. “Not only will we deal with all of you, but we’ll be fair. Everything you do to us gets done to your brother. And maybe a little extra just for how mouthy he can be.” 

“You…” Isadora tried to speak again. 

Esme reached over and patted her on the head; Isadora couldn’t even recoil, shock still coursing through her. “Oh, don’t worry, little one. You won’t even be doing anything bad. Just getting rid of some children who shouldn’t even be here. They’ve done horrible things, too, you know. They’ve killed and destroyed.” 

“They-” 

“They uprooted your lives, darling. If it weren’t for them, you’d be safe.” Esme smirked. “Besides, they aren’t even telling you the whole truth.” 

“Yes, they are.” Isadora whimpered. 

“Of course they aren’t. Didn’t Violet tell you she got to see your little brother at that charming hospital, or does she just not want you distracted?” 

Isadora froze over, her breath catching in her throat. 

“I’m sure you’ll be in the crowd tomorrow. After the lions eat, you can meet me behind Lulu’s tent, and I’ll hand over your prize before me and my Olaf leave to set fire to some annoying volunteer headquarters. See you then.” 

She stalked away, and Isadora stood still, staring after her. 

“She… she has to be lying somehow. There’s- she can’t- we-” Isadora stuttered. 

Then she looked down, to Duncan, still kneeling in front of the commonplace book. Slowly, she knelt beside him. “She… Duncan, she- she can’t-” 

Duncan reached forwards and picked up the book. He brushed dirt off the cover, and then hugged it to his chest and began to weep.

#asoue #asoue netflix #a series of unfortunate events #runaway baudelaires au #asoue fanfiction #all those things they couldn't say #the carnivorous carnival #mine #my fanfic

[vfdbaudelairefile13]

Dear reader,

Although this chapter is far more tamed than the last few chapters and the next few chapters. Please read with caution. We dive into Violet's thoughts and certain character intentions are discussed vaguely. Nothing explicit but I do caution you anyway.

Thank you for the love and support,

-Sue

                                                   Chapter Fifty-One:

                                         The One Where Violet Escapes

Violet looked happily at her free right hand as she immediately turned her attention to her remaining wrist restraint. She was sawing quickly and desperately at her restraint that she accidentally scraped the scalpel’s blade against her skin.

“Dammit!” she hissed as she freed her wrist from the restraint. She examined her wrists, both were red and raw and now one was slightly bleeding from where she had punctured and scraped her skin. She pressed her wrist down on the gurney, applying pressure to help handle the bleeding as she used her good hand to cut through the material that had tied her ankles to the gurney.

She sat up and looked around the room for her overalls to find that they were not where she had left them. “Fucking fucker,” she muttered under her breath as she stood up. She glanced around the small room for medical supplies to quickly bandage her superficial wound. “When I get my fucking hands on that fucking bastard…” she muttered to herself as she quickly searched the drawers and cabinets of the small room. She stumbled upon a roll of elastic bandage. She examined it. She knew that this was probably used for more serious types of cuts but it’ll do. She wrapped it around her wound after cleaning it up the best she could. She didn’t have time to worry about herself. Every second she wasted in this room was another second Olaf could be on his way back here or worse...catching up to Klaus and Sunny. She looked to the gurney she was just on and stared mournfully at her two cut hair ribbons, both of which were unusable now. She sighed. She was going to have to think of something both without her locket and without her hair ribbons.

I have to find my siblings and get us out of this hostile hospital. Violet thought as she reached the door. Her hand was firmly on the doorknob. She froze as she remembered that usually, someone was guarding this door. She glanced down at the bottom of the door. There seemed to be no shadows. So no one was standing right outside the door. She pressed her ear to the door and tried to listen to see if she could hear if anyone was either next to the door or coming down the hall. She knew she had to hide not only from Olaf but from anyone who had read the paper. Her blood boiled in her veins as she thought about how hard Olaf had truly made this for the three siblings. With them being on the run, they could no longer try to get help from anyone else who may be of some assistance to them. As Violet slowly opened the door, she pressed her face to the edge, peering out. Surveying both sides of the hall. It seemed empty and quiet. Her heart sank. If no one was guarding her, that means they were all going after her siblings. She thought. Well except Esme...apparently. She made a mental note to be on the lookout for the vicious bitch as she swung the door open and closed it behind her. She raced down a hall trying to act the least bit suspicious.

She glanced down at the hospital gown that she was wearing. If a doctor or nurse comes by...I’ll be able to pretend to be a lost patient, at least. She thought. Unless they’ve read the fucking paper.

Violet reached the end of the hallway as she glanced both ways once more. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She had desperately wished that the Hook-Handed Man had told Olaf where her siblings had last been spotted so she could go that same way.

Think like Klaus. She told herself. You have to think like Klaus to find him and Sunny.

She glanced around the adjacent hall nervously. Her breathing was becoming heavier as she began to worry about Klaus and Sunny. I can’t fail them. She told herself. She sighed as she wiped tears from her eyes. If Mr. Lemons wasn’t the survivor, that means he gave his life for them. You can’t fail them and you can’t fail him. Don’t let his death mean nothing. It has to mean something. She told herself. Instinctively, she reached her right hand to her chest, surprised and saddened when she couldn’t feel her locket. Sunny has it, remember. She reminded herself. She frowned as she sighed once more. She wondered if Sunny had opened her locket and found the secret photograph she’s had stored in there since the day she met her siblings.

She is startled when she hears a nearby door close. Frantically, she looks around for somewhere to hide. She glances at the several rooms that seem to be occupied with patients who have possibly read The Daily Punctilio.

Shit...shit...shit.

Her eyes locked on a door that was labeled ‘break room’, she shrugged her shoulders and ran for the room. She swiftly but quietly closed the door behind her. She pressed her back against the door and took a deep breath. She looked around the room to see at least three sleeping doctors, a lot of half-eaten food, and a small television in the corner of the room. She glanced around to see that there were a few lockers, two vending machines, and a full-length mirror on the other wall of the break room.

She glanced back at the door as she took a few steps forward. She had to come up with a plan to allow her to walk around the hospital undetected from both readers of The Daily Punctilio and Olaf. She quietly walked around the room looking for some sort of inspiration to give her a plan.

What would Klaus and Sunny do? She asked herself. What would Mr. Lemons do?

And the minute the question had formed within her mind, she sighed as she knew the answer. Her father would do what he had been taught to do from VFD, which would be to disguise himself as he always did when he went into public while on the run. Violet’s eyes locked on a single white medical coat that laid hung up on a chair. She glanced at the doctor who was sleeping on the decent-sized couch to make sure that she was still sound asleep as Violet plucked the medical coat from the chair.

She quickly put it on over her ridiculous hospital gown. She examined herself in the mirror. Because most doctors were adults, the white coat was a tad too big on Violet but she didn’t mind it, it was longer than the hospital gown and that’s all that mattered. It did a good job hiding most of her legs as well since she was worried that if someone had seen her it would look as though she was wearing shorts and not just a gown underneath her medical coat. She buttoned up the coat quickly and stopped to glance at herself in the mirror. She sighed as she could see that her current disguise was going to use a little work.

Violet grabbed her hair and began to wrap it into a bun. She knew that it was possible to wrap her hair into a bun without a hair tie, although it took Violet three tries to get it to stick. She looked into the mirror again and sighed. The bun was messy and lopsided and Violet feared it would fall apart again, allowing her long brown hair to flow back down giving away her true identity.

Anyone can see through this.

Think. Think like a...volunteer. She rolled her eyes at the mere thought of being a ‘volunteer’.   She glanced around the room desperately again. Her eyes focused on two black pens.

That could work. She said as she began to position the pens in her hair to help keep her bun intact. As she worked quickly, she continuously glanced around the room to make sure none of the sleeping doctors were waking up and she occasionally glances at the door making sure no one was trying to enter. She could not risk getting recognized. She had too much on the line. She had a close call back in that room with Olaf and if it weren’t for him wanting to capture Klaus and Sunny, Violet had a sick, heart-wrenching feeling in her stomach that something bad could’ve happened to her. As the thought of what could’ve happened entered her mind, she felt her body trembling and she felt her legs numbing as if fear was paralyzing her to the core. She shook her head vigorously trying to empty it of any dark thoughts.

No. Don’t think about that. That’s only going to distract you.

Worry about that later.

You have to worry about Klaus and Sunny.

And finding Mr. Lemons.

Conceal. Don’t feel.

She took a deep breath as she gazed at herself in the mirror once more. She couldn’t help but stare at the red bruise on her face from where Olaf had slapped her twice. She put her hand to her face and felt her cheek. It still felt like it was on fire, although the heat wasn’t too intense. It was sore and tender to touch. She knew she would have to find something to hide her bruise. She noticed a few cabinets that were near the vending machines in the break room. She ran over to them and quietly searched through the drawers and openings, desperately looking for a surgical mask. With each drawer she opened, she could see medical supplies which helped get her hopes up. Finally, the last drawer she had searched had an entire box of surgical masks. She quickly grabbed one, placing it around her mouth. She examined herself once more in the mirror, the surgical mask did a decent job hiding nearly all of her bruise and it did a fantastic job with covering up most of her face. The only thing that remained uncovered were her eyes.

She sighed when she realized that she may not be able to change that and she hoped her eyes wouldn’t be a dead giveaway of her identity if she had the misfortune of passing Olaf or any of his troupe while she was searching for her siblings.

Before she had decided that this was the best she could come up with, she gazed into the mirror and she frowned when she remembered how she had disguised herself as a mime to spy on her father. She experienced the same feeling right now as she did that day and it was the fact that when she looked in the mirror, she couldn’t see herself. She didn’t know who she saw.

Was this right? She asked herself. She knew it was against the law to impersonate a doctor but what choice did she have. She had to save her siblings. She had to find her father and she had to get the fuck out of this hospital.

You’re doing this for the right reasons. She tried to convince herself.

... Right?

She sighed. She didn’t know what was worst. Looking in the mirror and being so unable to see yourself that it felt as though she had lost a part of herself or simply wearing a disguise in order to trick people like Olaf did. Her blood boiled in her veins.

You are nothing like him or any of those fuckers who work for him.

Your father wore disguises...disguises aren’t necessarily bad...right? Even if they’re used in a cult.

Once more, she instinctively reached for her locket and stomped her feet in annoyance when she remembered that it was not with her. She felt as though that wasn’t helping her mentality either. Her hair ribbon and her locket were vital parts of her identity and she was without either one.

She stared at herself in pure silence for a few more moments, fighting back her tears.

You’re doing this for them. Everything you do...is for them. You have to find them...before he does.

Violet cringed when she imagined what Olaf would do to her siblings if he had the luck of actually capturing them.

This will have to do. She told herself as she began to head for the door. She sighed doubtfully as she reached for the doorknob. But she didn’t open it right away. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Snickets...they take care of their own,” she whispered to herself. “So where are you, Mr. Lemons?” she whispered wiping away her tears.

She couldn’t shake the idea that her father was the survivor from her head and it didn’t help her mentality at all. She was so confused as to why when she was dragged into her siblings’ misfortune, her father had stopped helping them. Instead, random volunteers like Larry and Jacquelyn had tried to help them, although Violet wondered where in the world they could be. Her uncle had even tried to help her but that ended badly for him. She didn’t understand why her own father would save her siblings and not her. She didn’t know if this was in result of her telling him that she hated him or if he never truly cared just like her birth mother.

Were Esme and Olaf right? Did her father merely get stuck with her?

She shrugged her shoulders, biting her lip, holding back a loud sob.

She pressed her back to the door once more, being careful not to wake any of the occupants in the room. She didn’t know what was going on with her. She was never like this. Never. Violet felt her core shaking as she began to sob. She just wanted her father to burst through the door and tell her that her siblings were waiting for them in the Snicket taxi and that he reserved the passenger seat just for her. But her father wasn’t bursting through the door. Her father wasn’t coming to save her and she knew she couldn’t waste any more time, her siblings needed her help... now.

Get a hold of yourself, Snicket.

You don’t need to be saved.

You need to save.

The time she had spent in that dark room when Olaf wasn’t being a massive creep had done some damage to her psyche and it was showing now. Because as much as she tried to make herself open the door, she couldn’t. She was frozen. Both in fear and in thought.

What if I can’t do this? What if I fail them?

What if it’s too late?

Hot tears were springing to her eyes. As all of these thoughts ran through her head, taking turns picking at her resilience and bravery until there was absolutely nothing left. If the thought wasn’t about her siblings' safety or where in the world her father was and her inner debate of whether she mattered to him or not, her thoughts went back to what had nearly happened to her in that room.

She didn’t know how she was supposed to feel. Relieved because it hadn’t escalated...or fearful because of the mere fact that it could have had her siblings not been spotted. Part of her wanted to feel relief because she was now relatively safer, although she knew she was still in danger simply because she was still stuck in the hospital. But a part of her felt guilty when she felt relief because to her, it felt as though she was okay trading her siblings’ safety for her own.

Get a grip, Snicket. You don’t have time for this internal war.

Conceal, don’t feel.

You can break down later when you have Klaus and Sunny in your arms again.

She took a deep breath as she strained her face trying to push all of these thoughts either out of her mind entirely or to the backburner. She wiped her eyes one more time as she turned towards the door. She gripped the doorknob with a shaky grip as she slowly opened it. She glanced around to see if anyone was around who could possibly recognize her before she was able to come up with an alias.

She entered the hallway and closed the door behind her. She felt her heart beating in her chest as she began to search the halls for any signs of either Olaf or her siblings. She knew that if she could find one of Olaf’s troupe members maybe she could fool them into relaying where her siblings were last spotted or she could simply follow them. She groaned outwardly when she could see that the hallway she was currently standing in was full of people. Being fourteen, Violet was well aware that a hospital needs many different people and many different types of equipment in order to work properly, and as she slowly walked through the hallway trying her best to blend in with the crowd of medical professionals, she saw all sorts of hospital employees and devices hurrying through the halls. There were physicians carrying stethoscopes, hurrying to listen to people’s heartbeats, and there were obstetricians carrying babies, helping to deliver people’s children. There were radiologists carrying x-ray machines, hurrying to view people’s insides, and there were optic surgeons carrying laser-driven technology, hurrying to get inside people’s views. There were nurses carrying hypodermic needles, hurrying to give people shots, and there were administrators carrying clipboards, hurrying to catch up on important paperwork. But no matter where Violet looked, she couldn’t see any sort of familiar face, neither good or bad.

Violet’s eyes widened as she heard a familiar voice. “Out of my way, everybody! I am a fabulously gorgeous nurse who is looking for Dr. Mattathias Medical-School!”

Violet wasn’t able to see Esme’s expression but just the way that she had said Olaf’s alias, she could tell that Esme agreed with Violet about how utterly ridiculous that name was.

Violet turned slightly to get a glimpse at Esme to make sure she wasn’t holding either one of her siblings. To Violet’s relief, Esme was not accompanied by either one of her siblings but as Violet glanced down at Esme, she could see that the vile woman must have gone back to the Library of Records to retrieve her stiletto shoes. Violet gulped as Esme began to pass her. She felt her heart racing so fast that she couldn’t breathe. She felt as though her heart was going to explode in her chest. Good thing I’m in a hospital. She thought as she tried her best to not be noticed by Olaf’s murderous girlfriend.

Esme walked down the hallway, creating odd, tottering steps. “Does anyone know where Dr. Mattathias is?” she called out annoyed, walking past Violet without even glancing at her.

Violet breathed a quiet sigh of relief as her heart beat slowly began to normalize.

Esme stopped dead in her tracks, a few feet ahead of Violet. “You…” Esme called out causing Violet’s eyes to widen and her heart to start beating rapidly again. Violet had hoped that hse wasn’t referring to Violet but as Esme turned around, there was no mistaking that she was referring to Violet. Esme walked towards Violet. Violet shifted her eyes to the ground, deciding it’d be best to not look the villainess in her eyes. Esme narrowed her eyes towards the girl. “You...look familiar…” she said thoughtfully. “Are you who I think you are?”

“Dr. Meredith Grey,” Violet replied using a disguised voice. She was nervous and felt sick to her stomach. She had hoped ‘Meredith Grey’ was a far more convincing name than Dr. Medical School.

Esme looked at Violet for a long second. Narrowing her eyes further as she took the time to glance at Violet. “Hun, I can see through your disguise,” Esme whispered placing a hand on Violet’s shoulder. Violet froze in fear as she waited for the vile woman to dig her nails into her skin or rip away her disguise and drag her back to her room. But Esme didn’t. She merely glanced around the hall randomly and then patted Violet’s shoulder as if she and Esme were well acquainted and on good terms. Violet felt the air in her chest tightened as Esme smiled at her.

“Where’s your sister?” Esme asked. Violet’s heart was beating so fast she couldn’t speak. She wasn’t sure if Esme had seen through her disguise and was now asking for Sunny’s location or if she had confused Violet for someone else. Violet doubted Esme would use the word ‘sister’ to describe Violet and Sunny’s relationship, though. Since Esme and Olaf enjoyed making Violet feel separated from her siblings ever chance they could. But that didn’t stop her breathing from hollowing as she could feel Esme’s eyes still intensely staring at her.

Esme sighed. “Which one are you again? Joyce, right?...”

Violet’s heart was slowly settling down when she realized that Esme must be stupidly mistaking her for one of the white-faced women. Violet merely nodded her head.

Esme took another look at Violet once more. “Where’s your sister?” she asked again annoyed. “We need both of you.”

“She’s looking for those bratty orphans,” Violet replied using a disguised voice.

Esme cocked her head to the side, confused. “What’s with the voice?” she asked. “And the name? ‘Meredith Grey’ that sounds made up.”

“...just playing the part, you know,” Violet replied nervously. “Just having fun with this brilliant disguise Mattathias whipped up for us. Besides, it’s a better name than Dr. Medical-School.”

Violet hoped that her explanation and fake appraisal of Olaf’s intelligence was enough to get Esme to stop looking at her suspiciously. Esme narrowed her eyes at Violet, causing the young girl to panic internally. A moment later, Esme smiled.

Esme gave a small chuckle. “You’re not wrong there,” Violet watched as the evil woman rolled her eyes. “Hooky and I told him, ‘Howser’ or ‘House’ would’ve worked a lot better.” She took another glance at Violet. “So I guess ‘Grey’ is sufficient enough, although it’s not a very In name.”

“Thank you, boss,” Violet replied still using the voice. She was slowly starting to calm down as Esme was having a casual conversation with her. It was like Esme really believed that Violet was one of Olaf’s vile henchwomen in disguise.

“I’ll admit, it is a nice touch,” she muttered. “So was the wig,” she said pointing at Violet’s hair.

“Thank you, boss,” Violet repeated.

“And your face doesn’t look as pale in that surgical mask,” Esme commented as she ushered Violet to follow her.

Violet smiled to herself under her mask when she realized that she had successfully tricked Esme into believing her disguise. Must be the coke. She thought. How does a fourteen-year-old look like an old woman?

“Well, I must be going. Mattathias wants us to find those bratty orphans,” she said still using her disguise voice. She tried to turn around and head the other way but Esme put a hand on Violet’s shoulder, keeping her in place.

“You didn’t hear?”

Violet shook her head. The less you speak, the better. She told herself. She wished Esme would continue only asking her yes and no questions but she knew that that was highly unlikely.

Esme’s smile turned dark and cruel as she leaned down closer to Violet. “ Two down...one to go,” she whispered happily into Violet’s ear. Esme stood back up, glancing around making sure no one else had heard her.

The moment the statement left Esme’s mouth and made its way through Violet’s eardrum to her brain. The young girl’s eyes went wide. She made sure to hide her eyes from Esme fearing that they would give her away. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She was slowly beginning to tremble.

Conceal. Don’t feel.

“What do you mean, boss?” Violet asked, hoping that her fake voice was able to disguise the worry in her voice. She wondered which one of her siblings had been captured and she wondered what Olaf was doing to them right now.

“Mattathias caught the boy!” she squealed, clapping her hands. Violet felt her heart shatter in her chest.

No! Klaus!

Violet fought back tears. She felt as though Klaus was the worst one for Olaf to catch. She knew that Esme had similar intentions for Klaus that Olaf had for her and even if Esme didn’t get to chance to act upon those intentions, she knew Olaf couldn’t wait to torture and kill Klaus in the ‘cruelest way imaginable’. Violet felt sick to her stomach as she began to imagine what Olaf could be doing to her brother.

“H-how did he catch the bookworm?” Violet asked, her voice shaking. She tried her best to hide the worry in her tone, desperately trying to mask it with curiosity. Violet took a quick glance at Esme, and it seemed as though Esme hadn’t caught on to her true identity yet, so Violet believed she was in the clear.

Esme shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t have all the details,” she admitted. A smile appeared on her face. “ But... I was told that the boy has been admitted into the hospital for a near- fatal stab wound.”

Violet’s heart sank. She remembered that when Olaf had left her room, he made sure to bring that big, sharp knife with him. She closed her eyes for a mere second. Trying to process what Esme had just told her.

Near... fatal ...stab...wound. She repeated in her head. She didn’t know why she closed her eyes, it just made everything worse as she began to imagine Olaf running that sharp knife through her brother’s chest, somehow missing his vital organs but harming him just enough to where Olaf would be forced to admit him into the hospital. She also shuddered when she realized that Sunny was probably there to witness that.

Doing her best to keep her composure, she took a deep breath.  She couldn’t show worry for Klaus right now. Not in front of Esme. That would blow her cover.

Conceal. Don’t feel.

He’s fine. He’s going to be fine. He’s a Baudelaire...they’re resilient…he’s been through worse...hasn’t he?

Violet had to bite down harshly on her lip to suppress a sob. She still choked on the sob, but she was thankful that she was able to muffle it. Esme took the time to glance down the hall again, allowing Violet a second to stealthily wipe away tears that had passed through her barrier.

“D-did you say...near-fatal…?” she asked in a tone that suggested that she couldn’t believe it. Violet wanted so badly to not believe it cause she desperately wanted it to not be true. She couldn’t let Olaf take her brother from her.

“Yeah, Hooky said the aftermath was so bloody that Mattathias had to get a new medical coat,” Esme explained. “Something about cutting open an old wound. I don’t know. I guess he viciously cut the boy to an inch of his life back when he had custody of them.”  

Violet gasped. Her eyes widened when she realized that she had. Violet was feeling so many emotions right now. She felt a slow roasting fire building up in her core as Esme confirmed to Violet what she had assumed for the longest time now. Olaf had cut Klaus back when her siblings were in his care. Violet wanted nothing more than to do the same to Olaf, to show him how it feels. Violet also felt a strange bit of guilt as she wished that she would’ve been there with her siblings to protect them. But Violet also felt as though she was going to throw up. She was sick with worry about Klaus’ condition now . Klaus had been captured and he was now in critical condition. She felt her legs beginning to shake, as they were slowly turning numb.

My baby brother...is in critical condition...because I wasn’t there to save him.

I failed him.

I fucking failed him.

I’m so sorry, Klaus. I wasn’t there to protect you. I thought sacrificing myself was the best option. I thought he’d be too busy with me to hurt you. I am so sorry. She was straining her face to hold back the waterfall of tears that were trying to escape her tear ducts.

I’m so sorry, Mr. Lemons. I’ve failed you, too. If you aren’t the survivor...I’m...I’m making your death pointless. Cause...I can’t protect them as you did.

I’m so sorry... Beatrice ...I failed at protecting your children. She felt herself shake a bit harder as she thought about her birth mother and the promise that she had Klaus make to her. If Violet had been raised by her...that would’ve been her promise to keep...and she was failing at it. She glanced over at Esme, who wasn’t facing her. Violet sighed in relief at this realizing that she had started crying. She quickly wiped her tears before Esme could turn around to continue their discussion.

Just as Esme turned around once more, Violet took a deep breath, holding back her immense anger and worry.

“Obviously, we don’t want that little brat to die...well, not yet, anyway,” Esme explained. “So Mattathias put the boy in critical condition. We have him hidden away in room 922, away from that ugly little brat with the big mouth. These brats are very meddlesome when they’re together.”

“What about the baby?” Violet asked in her disguised tone. She tried to mask her worry with curiosity once again but she felt as though, with not knowing what was happening to Klaus, it was too difficult to do.

“Oh, don’t you worry about her. She won’t get far,” Esme said snickering as she began to walk down the hall, ushering for Violet to follow her.

Violet looked in the direction that Esme was walking hesitantly. She didn’t want to follow Esme at all, she felt as though she needed to find Sunny and then rush to room 922 and help Klaus but before Violet could run in the opposite direction, a pang of guilt hit her in her core.

What if Esme was heading towards Klaus’ room, now? What if she hurts him…

Violet involuntarily gagged at the mere thought. Her blood boiling as she glared at Esme while her back was still turned. Violet knew she had to find a way to get Klaus out of Esme and Olaf’s clutches and find Sunny. But how?

Esme turned around when she noticed that Violet wasn’t following. “Let’s go!” she yelled. “Mattathias wants you to watch our newest little patient while the rest of us look for the baby.”

Violet smiled behind her mask. This was too easy. She thought to herself.

Violet ran to catch up with Esme.  

“Now, your job is to watch him and make sure he doesn’t die,” Esme explained in a cruel whisper as she led Violet towards Room 922. “Mattathias was very clear with his instructions. He doesn’t want the bookworm to die that easily.” Esme glanced around to make sure no one else was listening to her conversation. She leaned down to Violet. “And if we’re being honest, neither do I. I have a few plans for Beatrice’s baby boy and they don’t involve him dying so quickly.”

Violet could feel her blood spike in temperature and her skin crawl as Esme began to snicker evilly after that statement. It reminded her so much of how Olaf spoke about her. She couldn’t tell what was worse.

“H-how am I going to make sure he doesn’t die, I’m not a real doctor?”

Esme shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. Just think of something. Just absolutely no pain killers. We’re going to let him lay there and suffer until we catch his baby sister and do you know what Mattathias is going to do then?”

Violet shook her head slowly. Because she didn’t know, part of her desperately wanted to know, even if a part of her knew that she was not going to like any of the things Olaf had in mind for the children.

Esme smiled wickedly at Violet. “He’s going to make the bratty boy watch as we tear the baby limb from limb. We might even do it here at the hospital...there’s just so many tools to choose from.” she squealed happily. “And then if he has it his way, he’s going to let the boy ever so slowly bleed out in front of the ugly little girl since she cares about them so so much.”

“W-what’s your way?” Violet asked nervously.

“Simple. We kill the biting baby and that little Snicket bitch and we keep the boy.” Esme explained. “The boy is much more useful than Snicket. Besides, Beatrice actually loved and cared about that one. She gave up the older brat just like that.” Esme said snapping her fingers to emphasize her point.

Violet didn’t respond. She merely frowned behind the mask. She continued to follow Esme down several more hallways. She glanced this way and that desperately looking for Sunny. If she could spot Sunny, she’d find a way to get away from Esme and rescue her baby sister first and then focus on her brother after. Esme did say he was in Room 922. So at least with Klaus, she had an exact location.

Finally, Esme and Violet reached the door of Room 922. Esme’s smile turned into a vicious smirk as she began to snicker. “Well, here we are.” She snarled. Violet’s heart dropped as she could hear the machines beeping inside the room. Violet being only fourteen did not have extensive knowledge when it came to medical procedures but she did know from reading books and watching television that beeping monitors were a good thing. It meant the patient was still alive. She placed her hand on the doorknob of Room 922 and froze again.

She didn’t know if she could stomach seeing Klaus in critical condition. She knew she had to since she had already committed to pretending to be one of Olaf’s henchwomen but she didn’t know if she could go in there and not break apart at the sight of her brother an inch away from death. She knew she definitely couldn’t do it with Esme around.

“Well, go on,” Esme said impatiently. “Our little brainy patient awaits,”

Violet gulped as she opened the door slowly, with a long, whiny creak, and she slowly stepped inside the room, which was square and small and had heavy shades over the windows, making it quite dark inside. But even in the dim light, Violet’s eyes were focused at the hospital bed with the machine set up next to it. The machine continued to make an eerie beeping noise as she stared at the bed. In front of her was an occupied bed, she couldn’t see Klaus or his wound because whoever had set him there had put a large sheet over him entirely as if he had already passed and they were waiting for the coroner to take his body away. Violet’s heart sank to the floor as this image reminded her of her late Uncle Jacques when he was carried out of the Village of Fowl Devotees’ jailhouse on a stretcher.

Violet took a few cautious steps forward. As she glanced at the occupied hospital bed, something felt off. She just couldn’t pinpoint it exactly. But something in her gut felt wrong.

Why had they put a sheet over Klaus entirely? He isn’t dead. She wondered. She took another nervous step away from the door, getting closer and closer to the hospital bed. They hadn’t put a sheet over her when they captured her...so why do that to Klaus?

She suspiciously glanced at the hospital bed looking for any signs of restraints. Surely they would restrain Klaus like they restrained her...wouldn’t they?

Violet tried to reason why she couldn’t see any restraints on Klaus’ wrists or ankles. Maybe the sheet is covering them or he’s lost so much blood that he’s unconscious so there was no need to?

There were so many possibilities that Violet was unsure what to think. But then she noticed something else wrong about the occupied hospital bed. Whoever laid in it, seemed to be around Klaus’ height. They seemed slightly taller than her brother actually was. But she couldn’t be too sure in the dark, so she took another cautious step but stopped abruptly when she heard the door slam closed behind her. Her heart dropped and she cringed when she heard the door lock. “Shit…” she muttered to herself.

A wheezy laugh came from behind her causing her to tremble and nearly break down in sobs. “ ...no…” she whimpered.

“ My...my...my,” a cold, cruel, wheezy voice snarled. “ Seems like someone needs to be taught how to behave. ”

#misery loves company #violet snicket #violet baudelaire #violet snicket au #klaus baudelaire #sunny baudelaire #count olaf #dr mattathias #dr medical school #mattathias #esme squalor #hostile hospital #laura v bleediotie #dr faustus #babs #hal #daniel handler #lemony snicket #jacques snicket #snicket file #baudelaire file #beatrice baudelaire #beatrice baudelaire ii #bertrand baudelaire #asoue #asoue au #asoue fanfic #asoue fic #asoue fandom #asoue fanbase

[mariamallahan]

Chapter 8 - SHE

The moment you realize that you are being deceived is often disastrous. You may feel betrayed if the person who deceived you is a close friend. You may feel like being a fool if the person who deceived you is a declared enemy. But when you realize that you are being deceived by yourself, you feel foolishly betrayed, which is an especially painful combination. I finally realized why SHE wants me to die. I finally realized how powerful SHE is. But now I know that SHE afraid of me. And I realized that the day Beatrice was kidnapped by Comorra.

 

After I brought one of my adopted daughter's clothes into Snicket's hands, he took a tied whistle and a chain under his shirt. A few minutes passed, and then from all sides of the mansion appeared small marmosets. There must have been hundreds of them scattered around the garden, all lined up. Until one of them approached Snicket and took Beatrice's shirt. He sniffed it, and took it to the other members of the groups. As the clothes went through them all, Snicket went to a taxi parked in front of the house (which for some reason had the keys himself) and grabbed two bags. I followed him, and he ordered me, "Wear what's in here." I went to my room and put on that strange blue outfit with big shoulder pads. When I returned to the garden, I realized that Snicket and I were wearing the same clothes. The marmosets were still there, looking closely at Snicket. Snicket had other suitcases in hand, and I noticed another taxi driving away from the house.

"Are you ready to do whatever it takes to rescue Beatrice?"

"How about we call the police?"

"The police won't help us, Maria. Not in this case."

"Why not?" I wanted to know.

"The answer to that question involves a long story about corruption, money, and undercover people. But Beatrice doesn't have time for long stories. We need to get there before Beatrice is used."

Those words startled me.

"I will do whatever I need to rescue my adopted daughter;"

He unpacked two alarming objects.

"Do you know what this is?" - He asked me.

"Dart throwers," I answered. "But I don't know how to shoot properly."

"You won't have to shoot. You will just have to follow me and reload."

A lot happened in the next few minutes. Snicket gave me a suitcase full of darts. He taught me how to reload those dart throwers. Snicket used another whistle he had stored in his pocket. Giant eagles, which might have been around somewhere I didn't see them, appeared gliding across the sky. Snicket whistled with the first whistle, and hundreds of marmosets scattered everywhere. Snicket handed me night vision goggles, which I don't know where he got it from. Snicket blew the second whistle. Two eagles grabbed me by the shoulders, each on one side, and lifted me into the sky. I screamed. I shouted louder. I shouted much louder. The wind passed my face. The next ten minutes were a repetition of this last part at different intensities, and with my eyes closed. I believe the adrenaline in my body did activated something in my brain. It must have been a place in my brain that I haven't accessed yet. I remembered the books of Lemony Snicket. It calmed me, but I kept my eyes closed. I remembered book 11. I remembered a quote.

"Boys throw stones at frogs in fun, but the frogs don't die in fun, but in earnest."

"Who said that?" I wondered in agony. "One of the first volunteers said a very long time ago." Dewey Denouement said that. But who said that first? I knew the answer. Bion of Borysthenes. He was a Greek. When did he live? I read about him while researching Essenes. I discovered Greek manuscripts that indicated that Bion of Borysthenes was a cynical man or something. A philosopher who lived around the year 300. But it was around 300 BC. At about the same time as Alexander the Great. If he was already a volunteer then ...

My thoughts were interrupted when the eagles released us into a small open area in the woods. As some marmosets passed my feet, I looked around. Snicket was there, I could see him in shades of green. I had already read about that forest. It was Posillipo Hill. In the year 2017 AD, that place had gone through a major forest fire. The fire was fought by official firefighters and volunteers, and an arsonist was arrested. But at that moment a figurative fire was underway, and the arsonists were from the Italian mafia. "Follow me," said Snicket, and I obeyed. He seemed to be following a route drawn by one of the marmosets. I think that the marmoset must also have been carried by one of the eagles, because it was impossible for him to get there so fast. We ran through the woods up the hill until Snicket stopped and dropped to the ground. I imitated him.

"Are you ready?" He asked.

"Are these darts poisoned?" I asked.

"No, they are not." Snicket answered.

"Are you a person who usually lies, Snicket?"

"I only lie when it's good and necessary." He replied. "Are you ready or not?"

"She who hesitates is lost."

And so began the rescue of Beatrice. There was a cabin that seemed to be abandoned in the middle of that forest. We crouched at a safe distance. Snicket pointed his darts thrower at the cabin. He then used the whistle. An eagle carrying a marmoset in its claws passed us and threw the small mammal into one of the windows. Soon a man dressed in black came out the door with the little animal on his face. Quickly, Snicket threw a dart at the man who hit him in the shoulder. The man fell to the ground and went still.

"Didn't you say you weren't poisoned?"

"It's not poison. It's a medicine that makes the person sleeping."

Several marmosets began for us running. They invaded the cabin by the window. But we suddenly hear many screams of monkeys. The marmosets who had entered the cabin left there at the same speed. Snicket used a whistle again, but apparently his army dispersed.

"What happened?" I asked. "There's only one thing that would do the marmosets flee."

I did not need to ask what it could have been. Quickly several snakes and amphibians left the window.

Some toads came out flying through the window. Many snakes have also started to go out in several directions, but they were soon coming in our direction. Snicket used the whistle and several and several eagles have made prey flights toward the snakes.

The war between beasts had begun. The eagles tried to kill the snakes, but the flying toads tried to disrupt the eagles.

So, suddenly about ten men in black dresses out of the cabin, each of them by using a kit containing various sharp knives.

I could not understand how it was possible that in the house a so-called cabin so fit as many reptiles, amphibians and humans. The humans spread in several directions. Unfortunately the snakes of snicket indicated our location.

"There's only one thing to do." Snicket said, and so he used a one of the whistles again. Four eagles got on aur shoulders and took us to the top. Some knives crossed passed on my left side, but they did not hurt me. I shouted fear again. I realized that my eagles were taking me away from snicket. So I realized what was the plan. I was the bait. I can say that I fully culpiad my role of bait screaming as if I were a woman who was at a deadlitude about to be hit by several knives.

However, more than fast, snicket shot from his privileged position in airspace in all men. They all fell. The war between the beasts ended up low on both sides, but the numerical advantage of the eagles prevailed.

After several minutes, we were on the floor, surrounded by several dead animals and eleven men fallen on the floor.

"How long do we have until they wake up?"

"Long time. Do not worry about it."

"You mean to I do not worry about them."

"Are you now fascinated by grammar? Let's get into the cabin. '

The cabin was empty. But snicket quickly went to the center of the construction and pulled off a table. There was a secret trap that there was a symbol that I recognized immediately. Snicket had quickly opened, as if he did not want me to repair in that symbol. But it was too late.

So I saw that, I pointed my Dart thrower to Snicket.

"This is a base of VFD, is not it?

Those ten men were volunteers, were not they?"

Snicket raised his hands. "You do not know how to shoot, Maria. You can not threaten me like that."

"I lied to you, Snicket. I know how to shoot very well. I do not think I'll err so close. Where is Beatrice?"

"VFD no longer exists. You know it does not exist. Then lower this weapon."

I fixed my eyes on him. The story he had just had to make sense, but I did not know if he was a reliable narrator or not.

"Maria, what you should be wondering is why VFD volunteers would throw knives in you."

I agreed. Snicket gently took the gun of my hand. But nothing kindly he pointed the gun in my direction. I felt a cold climbing my spine. I knew I was to die there.

"This is the wrong question!" I listened to a family voice coming from the sub-solo.

So suddenly bats went flying from inside the secret tunnel and filled the room. They screamed very high. I could not see a lot.

But among the screams of the bats, I heard Snicket's screams. He must have run away. In any case, among that mess of flying mammals, I felt a familiar touch on my left hand. It was the touch of my adopted daughter. Beatrice led me to the trapdoor where there was a long stairway.

"Glad you're fine." She told me.

"Can you explain to me what's going on, Beatrice?"

"Stepmom, it's too complicated for you to understand."

"Please, try", I said.

"There is a secret organization that is so secret that we don't know the name. We call it SHE. We don't know the origin, nor exactly the goals. We know that SHE members always infiltrate other secret organizations. We also know that SHE members create secret organizations clones of other secret organizations. SHE remained anonymous until you began your research and since then the whole world seems to have gone crazy. So we need run away to another country. And you need to focus on your research. Mr. Yuio will meet us at the harbor in four hours. And you need to focus on finishing your research. There's nothing more important than that. Somehow, if you can get the general public to know about the origin of VFD, you will put an end to it all. At least that's what I believe."

I didn't understand what she meant. But then I remembered something. Something very important that I needed to say at that moment. "Beatrice, thanks for saving my life." We reached the bottom of the stairs. There were electric light fixtures all the way. "This is probably the last time we used these tunnels. We'll need to destroy it as soon as we get out of here."

"Were you hiding in these tunnels?" I asked.

"There's a secret base in the opposite direction. I was there ...

"What was the right question?"

"Why trained volunteers never hit you? i don't know the details, but if they were fighting eagles, they try to keep the number of eagles as small as possible. "...

And then? Where do we go to complete your research?

"" Let's go to Greece. "

#asoue #asoue fic #asoue cronology #asoue fanfic

[snicketstrange]

The Hypothetical Identity of JS.

This is part 12 of the Strange Interpretation of Jean Lúcio from Brazil

To understand this text, it is necessary to read some of my previous texts.

The Snicket File Inquiry

The Beatrice Letters Theory

The Sugar Bowls Theory

Hypotheses are based on circumstantial evidence. Being an ASOUE theorist involves "testing" various hypotheses, performing mental experiments, and verifying whether the hypothesis is valid or not. Hypotheses that can be denied are not valid, and should be discarded. Hypotheses that can not be denied are taken advantage of. And the hypotheses that fit the personality of the author, and that solve mysteries in a coherent way, and that even allow to solve other mysteries, pass to the status of theory. When dealing with a text that contains an unreliable narrator like Lemony, testing hypotheses is a great challenge. But as I showed in my first and second text, Lemony is a partially unreliable narrator. He promised himself not to tell lies about the events surrounding the Baudelaire siblings. But at the same time he must avoid telling the Public that Beatrice survived the burning of her house. Thus, to protect Beatrice's life, Lemony resorts to lies and cheating within his own 13 books, as long as this does not violate the promise he made that he will record the history of the Baudelaire siblings accurately. So, given the theory I created, I can say that I also created a hypothesis that had been disregarded by most fans. I am almost to promote this hypothesis at the level of theory, but perhaps some adjustments are necessary. So, briefly, I can say that my hypothesis is that JS is Beatrice pretending to be Jacques Snicket after the death of Jacques Sincket. I think this is Beatrice's recurring way of acting: she likes to pretend to be the siblings of Lemony who die. Of course, I did not imagine it out of the blue. There's a reason for me to find this, and I'll explain now. I will first explain my whole hypothesis, and then I will show the evidence. First, Kit herself believed that J. S. was an impostor, that is, someone pretending to be her brother.

  TPP chapter 2:

“At last she held up a tiny piece of paper, no bigger than a caterpillar, which was rolled into a tiny scroll. "Here it is," she said. "A waiter slipped this to me last night by hiding it inside a cookie." She handed it to Klaus, who unrolled the paper and squinted at it behind his glasses. "'J. S. has checked in,'" he read out loud, "'and requested tea with sugar. My brother sends his regards. Sincerely, Frank.'" "Usually the messages inside the cookies are just superstitious nonsense," Kit said, "but recently the restaurant has changed management. You can understand why this message made me so distraught, Baudelaires. Someone is posing as my brother, and has checked into the hotel shortly before our entire organization is scheduled to arrive."

In the same passage we observe that J. S. asked for sugar when he arrived at the hotel. Of course this was a code. If you've read my theory about sugar bowls, you know that I believe a short woman got one of the sugar bowls in GG. Imagine the following hypothesis: this woman is the person who is going by J. S. This woman went to the HQ of VFD, received the message in the refrigerator. Captain Windershins sent a telegram to her informing her that the sugar bowl was in GG, after Klaus found out. She went to AA, went down the tunnels, picked up the sugar bowl at GG, went to Queequeg, persuaded Windershins and Bill to abandon the submarine, used the Great Unknown to chase away Olaf, and then used the Great Unknown to quickly get to the hotel, has registered as JS  She hid the sugar bowl somewhere with water. She then ordered tea with sugar, informing the allies that she already had one of the sugar bowls in her hands. These allies were members of the secret organization within the secret organization created by Lemony. When she asked for sugar, the waiters searched her ankles. They did not find any tattoos.

(I believe that Beatrice does not have a tattoo because her children had never seen anything like it before contacting Count Olaf.) Chapter 7 of TPP shows what treatment was given to anyone who asked for sugar:

" in  the  coffee  shop,  located  in  Room  178,  a  villain  requested sugar in  his  coffee, was immediately thrown  to  the  floor  so  a  waitress could  see if  he  had  a tattoo  on  his  ankle,  and  then  received  an  apology  and  a  free  slice  of  rhubarb  pie  for  all  his trouble."

The waiters believed that all the supporters of the incendiary side of Schism had entered VFD before Schism itself, so everyone should have ankle tattoos. Of course they were wrong. Esmé did not have a tattoo because she participated in Olaf's Schism, years after the Great VFD Schism, but she had no tattoo. Esmé entered VFD after the Great Schism. Similarly, the woman who was going through J.S. also did not have a tattoo because she entered VFD after the Great Schism.

(chapter 12 The UA: 3. Do I Have to get a Tatto? - No anymore. Since the schism, we have realized that it is not wise to permanently mark oneself with a symbol when the meaning of the symbol change at any moment.)

The woman then received a telegram from Quigley. The telegram informed through a complex code that Baudelaire siblings would meet someone in a taxi on Briny Beach to accomplish a mission, and then she deduced that there was someone who would bring the Baudelaire siblings to the hotel. What "J.S." did? She sent a telegram to Mr. Poe. She did not want the Baudelaire siblings to go to the hotel. She asked Mr. Poe to fetch the Baudelaire Siblings. Why she did it?

  For me, the answer is: Because J. S. was Beatrice pretending to be Jacques Snicket. She did not want her children to face the Deadly Dangers that would exist in the hotel. Finally, Beatrice was taken from the hotel in the trunk of a taxi. She handed the sugar bowl to the mysterious taxi driver. Anyway, as I explained in the Sugar Bowls theory, Beatrice was taken to the beach, where she invoked the Great Unknown using the whistle (which was the contents of the sugar bowl), and went to save the Quagmires and the others. She probably wanted to save her own children too, but she should not have known where their children were. When Beatrice went to save the Quagmires one of them shouted for the name “Violet” because he saw Beatrice inside the beast's mouth and thought she was Violet. Now see some evidence about JS being Beatrice in disguise:

TGG chapter 12:

"A Volunteer Factual Dispatch," Klaus finished. Violet nodded, and scanned the paper quickly. Sure enough, the words "Volunteer Factual Dispatch " were printed on the top, and as more and more of the paper appeared, the eldest Baudelaire saw that it was addressed "To the Queequeg," with the date printed below, as well as the name of the person who was sending the telegram, miles and miles away on dry land…

"It's from Quigley Quagmire," she said quietly. Klaus's eyes widened in astonishment. "What does he say?" he asked.

" 'It is my understanding that you have three additional volunteers on board… 'We are in desperate need of their services for a most urgent matter… Please deliver them Tuesday to the location indicated in the rhymes below.”

She scanned the paper and frowned thoughtfully. "Then there are two poems," she said. "One by Lewis Carroll and the other by T. S. Eliot."

"Verse Fluctuation Declaration," he said….

"There's nothing else in the telegram?" "Only a few letters at the very bottom," she said. " 'CC: J.S.' What does that mean?" " 'CC' means that Quigley sent a copy of this message to someone else," Klaus said, "and 'J.S.' are the initials of the person." "Those mysterious initials again," Violet said. "It can't be Jacques Snicket, because he's dead. But who else could it be?"… Klaus closed the book and looked up at his sisters. "Quigley wants us to meet him tomorrow," he said, "at Briny Beach."

  Chapter 13

"The missing words," Violet said to her siblings, as if the coughing banker had not spoken, "are 'violet,' 'taxi,' and 'waiting.'

  These excerpts above show that Quigley sent the message to Queequeg and sent a copy of the same message to J.S.

  Chapter 13

“"Gack!" Sunny said, which meant "Look at that mysterious figure emerging from the fog!" and the Baudclaires watched as a familiar shape stopped in front of them, took off a tall top hat, and coughed into a white handkerchief… "Baudelaires!" Mr. Poe said, when he was done coughing. "Egad! I can't believe it! I can't believe you're here!" "You?" Klaus asked, gazing at the banker in astonishment. "You're the one we're supposed to meet?" "I guess so," Mr. Poe said, frowning and taking a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. "I received a message saying that you'd be here at Briny Beach today.”

"Who sent the message?" Klaus asked…

"The message is signed J.S.," Mr. Poe said… “You'd better come with me – my car's parked nearby. You have a great deal of explaining to do."

No," Violet said. "No?" Mr. Poe said in amazement, and coughed violently into his handkerchief. "Of course you do! You've been missing for a very long time, children! It was very inconsiderate of you to run away without telling me where you were, particularly when you've been accused of murder, arson, kidnapping, and some assorted misdemeanors! We're going to get right in my car, and I'll drive you to the police station, and –" "No,…"

This passage above shows that JS sent Mr. Poe a message asking him to go and meet the Baudelaire siblings at Briny Beach. It is unlikely that this message was intercepted by an enemy, decoded, and then that enemy would have passed through J.S. and then sent a message to Mr. Poe. Enemies on the noble side do not like books, and that's why creating a code involving books is so safe. Also, it is unlikely that the enemies had exactly the books they needed to decode the message. That means that the person who was going through J.S. was not a villain. He was a member of the "noble" side of VFD. And this member of the noble side did not want the Baudelaire siblings to be taken to the hotel. The only members of the noble side who did not want the Baudelaire siblings to become involved with VFD were the Baudelaire siblings' own parents. This is evidence that J. S. was actually Beatrice, who did not want her children to be taken to the hotel. Beatrice knew the dangers in the hotel would be deadly. Worst mother she's proving to be because of my theories, she did not want her children to die.

  TPP chapter 8:

 "I'm so happy to find you," said the judge, taking off her Vision Furthering Device so she could dab at her eyes and embrace the children one by one. "I was afraid I'd never see you again. I'll never forgive myself for letting that idiotic banker take you away from me."

  This passage above shows that Justice Strauss would never ask Mr. Poe to fetch the Baudelaire siblings at Briny Beach. So it is not the true J. S.

  TPP chapter 8:

"I'm sorry, too," Jerome said. "As soon as I heard about all the troubles that befell you in the Village of Fowl Devotees, I began my own Baudelaire search. Volunteers were leaving me messages everywhere-at least, I thought the messages were addressed to me." "And I thought they were addressed to me ," Justice Strauss said. "There are certainly plenty of people with the initials J. S." "I began to feel like an impostor," Jerome said.

  This excerpt shows that Justice Strauss and Jerome found it very strange to have messages for JS. Jerome even felt like an impostor. They evidently do not know many secrets of VFD, and were not the recipients of the message in the refrigerator, nor of Quigley 's message.

    Other evidence: In TPP there is a picture and a passage showing that female VFD members can disguise themselves as VFD members of the male gender. The engraving is in ALSO NOT CHAPTER. The picture shows a woman who was disguised as a man. About this, Lemony wrote in TPP chapter 7:

"In  the  basement,  a  strange  sight  housekeepers  removed  a  disguise,  and  drilled  a  hole  behind an  ornamental  vase  in  order  to  examine  the  cables  that  held  one  of  the  elevators  in  place, while  listening  to  the  faint  sound  of  a  very  annoying  song  coming  from  a  room  just  above her."

The engraving shows that the woman's disguise involves a false mustache, a type of barrel decorated with eyes, a top hat and a suit. This is evidence that Beatrice could disguise herself as a man easily. This is evidence that Beatrice could also disguise herself as a man easily.

It's interesting what Esmé said about J.S. when she talked to Geraldine Julienne. TPP chapter 4:

  "I reveal  my special  hors  d'oeuvres  for  Thursday's cocktail  party,  I  want  you to  tell  me something  about  a  certain  guest at  this  hotel.  He's  been  lurking around  the  basement,  plotting to spoil our party. His initials are J. S."

  This is evidence that Esmé did not know who JS was. This shows that JS was on the noble side of Schism.

  Also interesting is what Charles said about JS in TPP chapter 5:

  (Sir): "You're  the  one  who  said  enemies might be lurking in this hotel!"

"That's what  I was  told  in  the letter  I  received," Charles  said.  "According to  J.  S.,  we must be very cautious if we want to find the Baudelaires."

"... Perhaps  I  can  ask  one  of  the  concierges  for  a  pair  of binoculars.  J.  S.  said  they  might  be  arriving  by  submarine,  so  I  could  watch  for  a  periscope rising from the sea."

  This is evidence that J. S. was someone on the "noble" side of VFD because he warned Charles about the dangers. In addition, J.S. warned Charles that the Baudelaire siblings would be arriving by submarine. This shows that JS knew about Queequeg.

  TPP chapter 5:

I  care  about  you, Sir. And I care about the Baudelaires. If what J. S. wrote is true, then their parents-" 

  That is other evidence. J.S. wrote to Charles in a letter some secret about the parents of the Baudelaires siblings. This time, the person who must have written to Charles was Jacques Snicket himself. This letter in which Jacques wrote to Charles about the Baudelaires' parents must have been sent to him before the death of Jacques Snicket. In TVV, when Jacques Snicket tried to talk to the Baudelaire siblings, he almost told a secret about their parents.

  TVV chapter 6:

(Jacques Snicket:) Please listen to me, I beg of you! I'm not Count Olaf! My name is Jacques!" He turned to the three siblings, who could see he had tears in his eyes. "Oh, Baudelaires," he said, "I am so relieved to see that you are alive. Your parents — "

      "That's  enough  out  of  you,"  Officer  Luciana  said,  clasping  her  white-gloved  hand  over Jacques's mouth.

  I believe Jacques would tell the Baudelaire siblings that one of their parents was alive.

  TPP Chpater 6:

Chapter 6:

 "I  have  news  from  J.  S." - either  Frank  or  Ernest  was  whispering  to  Hal.

“J. S.?" Hal said. "She's here?" "She's  here  to  help,"  the  manager  corrected.  "She's  been  using  her  Vision  Furthering Device to watch the skies, and I'm afraid she reports that we will all be eating crow."

"I'm  sorry to  hear  that,"  Hal  said.  "Crow  is  a  tough  bird  to  cook,  because  the  meat  is  very muscular from all the carrying that crows do."

“It  is  a  shame,"  agreed  either  Frank  or  Ernest.  "If  only  there  was  something  that  could make the dish a little sweeter. I've heard that certain mushrooms are available." "Sugar would be better than mushrooms," Hal said unfathomably.

"According  to  our  calculations,  the  sugar  will  be  laundered  sometime  after  nightfall," replied the manager, equally unfathomably.

"I'm  glad,"  Hal  said.  "My  job's  been  difficult  enough.  Do  you  know  how  many  leaves  of lettuce I've had to send up to the roof?"

  For some reason, Hal was apparently working with Esmé. He was sending lettuce leaves to her clothes. Lemony had said in THH that he had to search for several months if Hal, at the time he worked at the hospital, was or was not a spy. The question is, why did Lemony have this doubt? Because evidently, at the time of events recorded in TPP, Hal was already a spy on the incendiary side. Dewey knew this, so he passed on false information to Hal. It was in this way that Olaf received insider information about what was apparently to happen at the hotel. That's why the information Dewey passed to Hal about JS was not true. JS was not there to help the incendiary side. But the interesting thing is that Hal believed she was there to help the incendiary side. Hal acted as if he already knew JS. This is evidence that JS was acting as a double agent. Beatrice was pretending to support the incendiary side by disguising herself as a woman named JS. But evidently she had only communicated with people who did not know her personally. So Olaf and Esmé were not contacted by her.

The passage also points to how Dewey passed the false information to Olaf's supporters as to where the sugar bowl would fall. Olaf's supporters believed that the sugar bowl containing the whistle to control the Great Unknown would come by the crows. Hal was saying that he thought it would be better to have a giant beast attack than exposure to a deadly fungus.

  That's what I have as evidence. But that raises an interesting question.

Did the first time Mr. Poe fetched the Baudelaire Siblings at Briny Beach, he also received a message from Beatrice about where they were?

After all, how did Mr. Poe know exactly where the Baudelaire siblings were on the day of the fire? Who warned him? How did he get there so fast?

According to the UA, chapter 11, Lemony also knew about the possibility of one or more survivors in the Baudelaire mansion fire. How could he know that?

Also, exists in the bad beginning the rare edition, there is a very interesting note:

  p.2 The three Baudelaire children lived with their parents in an enormous mansion at the heart of a dirty and busy city, and occasionally their parents gave them permission to take a rickety trolley-the word “rickety”, you probably know, here means “unsteady” or “likely to collapse”-alone to the seashore…

 On that particular occasion, the Baudelaire parents not only gave their children permission but encouraged them to leave the house, as the adults had some pressing business to atten to. This business was delayed indefinitely due to death. 

  Why had Beatrice and Bertrand insisted so much that their children left home exactly that day? What did not their parents want them to see happen? Why did Bertrand die and Beatrice survived? Why did Beatrice have so much fun killing Count Olaf's father or parents? And why did R. claim that Beatrice was not a person to look for lost goods?

And why is not Lemony who you think he is? What dark secrets are hidden in TBL? What is "the End"? Why is Lemony finished? The next text will answer these questions through my other hypothesis.

#asoue theories #asoue #beatrice baudelaire #Beatrice is alive #who is JS #JS asoue #lemony snicket #sugar bowl #sugar bowl theory

[thesleepofchildhood]

TPP is already my favorite of season 3

-I love Max Greenfield and was SO happy to see him as the triplets.

-Speaking of, Frank and Ernest still sat together at the trial despite being on opposite sides of the schism (yeah and then they bowed their heads when Dewey was mentioned)

-That whole freaking trial too dear god

-Previous Generation VFD all Hanging At The Opera (tm) made me really ach for them, I think I'm gonna restart that fic I never finished about them cause I REALLY need more older generation content

-Seeing Kit and Olaf and Esme calling Lemony "Darling" yeah I know as friends but it really warmed my heart and also reminded me of that one post when the "sugar bowl" was Lemony (or his dick) and Beatrice stole it from her and I almost died laughing I had to pause it XD

-How adorable was Lem watching Bea, and immediately pulling out the type writer???

-How SMOKING BEAUTIFUL was Beatrice????I ??? Love????Her????

-All things considered yes I'm also very salty about lack of Bertrand but apparently there's people saying he pushed Olaf's dad into the hallway or alerted him to the commotion or was the fan that gave Bea the dart, sooo...checks out to me.

-Back to the Denouements, I REALLY love Max you guys did I say that all ready? I love how they played it up too "When I saw you shot the manager I got the manager...wait that doesn't make sense." "Yes it does."

-I am also really satisfied with how they framed Lemony deciding to follow the Baudulaires. Big change from the books, where I always got the impression he started documenting them not tooo long after the fire, but the way they did it on the show I actually kinda like.

-Maybe cause I got to see Ma Boi with THAT LONG MESSY CURLY HAIR HE IS SO DREAMY YOU HEAR THAT? I LOVE HIM HES SO HANDSOME 📣📣📣📣📣📣📣📣📣📣📣📣📣

-KIT AND DEWEY 📣📣📣📣

-@virtualfindingsdocumented WHEN LEMONY GOT IN KIT'S TAXI I THOUGHT OF YOU AND YOUR FIC MY JAW DROPPED

-I was sad we didn't see Hal though, I know its cause the show's lore had more characters that it made sense they showed up instead of the book ones, but still I loved Hal, so eh.

-THEY SAW HIS FACE

-The parts with Justice Strauss and her offer I think was a good way to show how indeed they've grown. I'll get more coherent thoughts on that later in a longer post.

-I wish the Noble enough speech had been included, and I wish they had more time with Dewey but whatcha gonna do

#Asoue s3 spoilers #immediate thoughts i have to run out in five min #TPP

[beatricebidelaire]

admittedly i speak this as someone who has never written a letter to their celebrity crush but i still think the fact that geraldine addressed esme as “dear esme” meant that that was probably her stage name and that esme didn’t generally go by her last name? like not as an actress i mean.

the sugar bowl contained esme’s last name and had beatrice not stolen it jerome would’ve taken esme’s last name instead of esme taking jerome’s?

(in the very same letter geraldine referred to jerome as “jerome squalor” and at this point they’re not married yet)

although it’s also possible that jerome’s family inheritance had some clause about how you have to have the squalor last name to inherit the fortune etc

but

on the other hand

(bear with me)

here’s how squalor could be esme’s last name instead of jerome’s. back to my jerome and esme married twice theory, the first time they married was after esme had geraldine conducted investigation on jerome and then supposedly accidentally run into him at veritable french diner and married after one evening together. but here’s the thing, what if they married before geraldine’s investigation?

jacques canonically also worked at daily punctilio with geraldine, so esme, after marrying jerome (in secret), had geraldine do the investigation as red herring for jacques to see, so jacques wouldn’t think she had already married jerome. maybe esme wanted jacques to find out from geraldine that esme wanted to investigate jerome, and she wanted him to be alarmed about it and reached out to jerome only to then find jerome was already married. she thought that would be incredibly amusing. (after all, jacques and esme did seem to have some bad blood between them, to say the least.)

so here’s a hypothetical timeline (BEAR WITH ME)

jacques and jerome and lemony and beatrice climbed mount fraught, jerome saw beatrice carried away by eagles, got scared of what his group of friends seemed to engage in some dangerous activities, he distanced then for a bit. (tee jerome mentioned about the trip and how it’s like 20years ago)

jerome did not contact his vfd friends for a while (not that he knew about vfd actually being called “vfd”) and sometime later, esme met jerome (without geraldine’s help, because i think it’s safe to say that anything she could ask geraldine to do she could very well do it on her own), they married after one evening together, the vineyard sent this:

the vineyard wrote dear mr squalor since esme made them do that

since jacques and beatrice fell out of touch with jerome, they did not immediately know about this. esme had geraldine investigated into jerome for her. geraldine had not heard of jerome, a rather low-key rich guy, before this. she had heard of esme, but esme went by her stage name as just esme in public, so geraldine did not know esme’s last name was squalor. so when in her investigation found that jerome’s last name was now squalor, she didn’t realize it’s because he had taken esme’s last name. since she was not a great journalist in general, she did not find out that esme and jerome were in fact already married, nor the fact that jerome was married at all.

she did, however, per esme’s instructions, talk about how “lucky it is for me to help the famous actress esme investigate this man named jerome” in the daily punctilio office, which naturally alarmed jacques who decided to reach out to jerome again to warn him about esme. and then he found out jerome and esme already married.

beatrice and jacques broke them up they had a divorce beatrice stole the sugar bowl years later beatrice died esme made a move on jerome again without beatrice to stop her, jacques wrote the letter in tua begging jerome not to marry esme, a letter which also mentioned a death at lumber mill (presumably about georgina) and hiding in a village (presumably village of fowl devotees) , you can refer back to the jerome and esme married twice theory linked above for details

thank you for reading my overly complicated theory to explain tua daniel handler did not ask for

#asoue #vera.txt #esme squalor #jerome squalor #geraldine julienne #jacques snicket #DPOS #beatrice baudelaire #the unauthorized autobiography #c(a)cct #JE marriage timeline tag

[googly-eyed-android]

I just saw the phrase "arsonist Amity Blight" and I immediately thought "ASOUE crossover" and after giving it approximately ten seconds of thought I can already think of a bajillion ideas for how it could work

Looks like we have another AU boys. Oh no

(lmao my keyboard suggested the word AU I didn't even have to type it, shows you how many times I've typed that sentence, fuck)

Oh! Even more fascinating idea! What if it's crossed over specifically with my Beware the Watchers ASOUE AU? That would echo the vibes that the whole situation with Emporer Belos and the titan gives off... Could even have him in the crossover claiming to be able to communicate with VFD... Hmm, I'll have to think about that

Well, that last paragraph aside, my initial thoughts are as follows: Amity is an arsonist, obviously, and Luz was recruited late by Eda, who is a wildcard, neither firefighter nor arsonist. Maybe Luz is the daughter of firefighters? That wouldn't only echo the Baudelaires, which I'm not sure if I want to do or not, but it would also be a further reason for her and Amity to start out as rivals. In any case, both sides were racing to recruit her but Eda got to her first 😛 which neither side is happy about. I'm not sure what's up with the firefighter vs arsonist thing in this crossover, I can't think of anyone in The Owl House who seems like they would be a firefighter, except for Gus and Willow but they're kids, where are the adults? I guess it could be their parents (who in this crossover would really be their chaperones) but we barely know their parents and they're not big figures in the world, who are the big firefighters? Hm, I'll have to figure something out

Anyway, back to Luz: the Beware the Watchers AU would parallel the Owl House canon better because it has more overt fantasy elements than the ASOUE canon, but either universe would work; in either case she's pulled headfirst into a world that can seem wondrous when looked at through rose colored glasses, and we all know Luz wears about five pairs of rose colored glasses at all times. I'm not sure what to do with King, Hooty, and Owlbert; in Beware the Watchers they can easily be shoehorned in, but it'll be a lot harder to do that in default ASOUE. There are a lot of pros and cons to either choice, I'm not sure which one to pick, I just hope I'll be able to pick one because I have way too many unfinished ideas to go with both 😭. I wonder how we can get Luz away from her mother without either of them getting worried about the other though 🤔 what sort of plot device aside for a portal to another realm could separate them? Then again, the portal isn't the only factor even in the Owl House canon, there's also the letters. I hope we find out who's writing them soon so I can fit them into this crossover. Hm, and then there are also the theories that her mother is connected to the demon realm in some way, how would that factor into things? Ugh I don't like coming up with AUs for unfinished stories, there are too many unanswered questions, and I can't just come up with my own answers for them because they may be contradicted later 😭 but this is the curse of the hyperfixation, it always leads to me creating AUs 😔 and this time the hyperfixation is on a story that's unfinished. Such is life. How about I focus on the things we do know, hm?

So Eda takes Luz on as her apprentice, and is also determined to protect her from both sides of VFD and teach her her own wild ways, a lot like some fan characterizations of adult Ellington I've seen. Reminds me specifically of Connie's ASOUE/Stranger Things crossover Fanning the Flames's version of Ellington, although there are also plenty of differences between the two, it's a pretty vague resemblance. Anyway, Luz still ends up coming into contact with VFD kids, firefighter apprentices Willow and Gus and arsonist apprentice Amity. Or we could position Willow and Gus as being on the run from VFD, but that would both mess up our only firefighter connection and leave Eda with no reason not to recruit them like she recruited Luz, so I guess they'll be firefighter apprentices unless I can figure out some other way of making things work. Also in the Owl House canon they both follow Emporer Belos so having them be firefighter apprentices would parallel that better, but something about them being on the run from VFD speaks to me, I don't know what. Oh well, I guess as the story progresses the Owl House canon will probably have them start getting skeptical about Belos so they might eventually end up on the run from VFD in this crossover.

Hmm, speaking of how the story will progress, while the idea of having a crossover with Beware the Watchers is cool, Beware the Watchers is also very intense and leans heavy on the cosmic horror, which doesn't fit the tone of The Owl House at all, and I especially wouldn't want to see bright and sunny Luz end up as miserable as the Baudelaires end up in Beware the Watchers, that would be way too painful, but the only to avoid that would be to make VFD less powerful, which would cheapen the entire premise of the AU. Sadly, it doesn't seem like Beware the Watchers would work 😔 that's too bad. I'm not going to discard the idea entirely, but unless I can think of a solution to this I just don't see how I can make it work. Oh well

Anyway, back to figuring out the crossover: we can try to make Prufrock Prep stand in for Hexside, but that may be difficult because Hexside is an actual half-decent school (at least as far as magical schools go) while Prufrock is a dumpster fire that has been eaten by a trash slug and is somehow still on fire despite being inside the trash slug. If anyone got this far into this post without being familiar with Prufrock Preparatory School, no, that's not an exaggeration. So, we can either modify Prufrock to parallel Hexside better or we can figure out some other way to get the kids together. I'm leaning toward the second option, I don't want to touch Prufrock with a ten foot pole.

Anyway, Amity is secretly miserable with the arsonists and is slowly brought out of her shell by Luz which helps her distance herself emotionally from the arsonists. Willow and Gus though are steeped in the firefighter brainwashing and are still firm in their loyalty to VFD, and their brainwashing, which they spout constantly, is also having an influence on Luz and Amity. But then everything gets turned upside down when Eda is captured by the arsonists, and the kids realize that the firefighters seem to care more about telling the arsonists that killing Eda is wrong than they care about actually stopping them from killing Eda (since, of course, they hate her too and want her out of the way, and the firefighters and arsonists are simply two sides of the same rotten coin). This starts them on their own independent (from Eda) realization that VFD sucks no matter which side you're on.

And then of course there's Lilith. It shouldn't be too hard to come up with a replacement for the curse, though I'm not sure how her motivations would transfer over. She's obviously an arsonist because she's with Belos and Belos has to be an arsonist because only the arsonists would make a spectacle of killing someone who hasn't really done anything wrong, but I like the idea of her and Eda starting out as firefighters but then Eda leaving VFD and Lilith switching sides. If we keep the generations the same as in the Snicketverse books then Eda and Lilith are from the generation where the schism really cemented itself and tore VFD in two, leaving us with those who light fires and those who put them out, and I'm really excited to come up with something that could tear the sisters apart and/or push Lilith to the other side à la the night at the opera, and of course we would need to figure out the other players in this, I already mentioned Gus and Willow's parents/chaperones but there's also the Blight parents and Belos and Kikimora and various other people that we don't know much about, plus what I mentioned earlier about needing to figure out who the big firefighters are. I imagine the Blight parents would be able to pull some strings to avoid being separated from their children, especially since the arsonists tend to be more lax about the rules, but I imagine that Lilith would serve as Amity's chaperone in some capacity. Not sure about Em and Ed though. Then Lilith ditches VFD to join Eda, which upsets things within VFD, right in time for Willow and Gus to start questioning things. I imagine that their chaperones will try to keep them from interacting with Lilith and the one who got her to leave VFD aka Eda, and by proxy Luz, which would push them to choose between the firefighters and Eda's little crew. And the Blight parents would probably crack down on Amity after Lilith's defection. As for what will happen next, I think I'll wait for season 2 to figure that out

Okay, this has been fun, but this is getting long and complicated and I've been working on this for hours, so I'm just gonna post this now

#googly original #toh/asoue crossover #googly input

[whoslaurapalmer]

(For the ask meme): H, I, K, and T

thank you!!!!!!! 

H: How would you describe your style?

containingconsiderably more emotion than I thought it did! sometimes morestraightforward than is truly necessary, I could stand to be morevague at times! occasionally wry and occasionally wildly hilarious!! adverbs ahoy!!!! my writing professors would say (besides telling me my writing was kind of snarky and to the point) that my writing always had a gooddeal of substance behind it, like I never approached anything superficially, and that's totally legit 

I: Do you have aguilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

maybe???? i’m big on pining. I don’t think I write it very well, but I do really enjoy reading it. domestic fluff!! and I GREATLY enjoy shenanigans, like fics where you have a stellar ensemble cast trying to do a thing around a crazy amount of escapades. I love them a lot. I wish people wrote more of them. (i’m also a sucker for ‘our friends with benefits relationship has nothing to do with our incredibly obvious romantic feelings for each other, even though, oh shit, this sudden event has made us realize we loved each other all along’)

also that post aboutthose fics that are just, 90% emotion and characters being togetherwith like 10% plot??????? hell fucking yeah. especially because I am,not really capable of writing one because I get so hung up on plot.

K: What’s theangstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

I’ve been writingand reading fanfic for so long that part of me still sees ‘angst’and immediately associates it only with ‘poorly-executed angst’ (as in, angst for the sake of only causing characters pain, andnot following a dramatic, possibly upsetting idea through to itsnatural conclusion to say something about the story and thecharacters involved) so I forget that angst is still a legitimateterm for a specific kind of fanfic that I actually do write a certainamount of so I can have ahard time trying to point things I do out as ‘this is angst and that’s okay'

1) we know so littleabout haruki in atwq and I spend most of my time referencing him inwips going ‘well he’s dead now’ and suspect he died in one ofthe worst fires vfd witnessed, soon after the anwhistle wedding (orearlier)

2) all the snicketsiblings were on the train

3) my vague scenesketches for ‘peaks role reversal’, like laura meeting coop in the red room (instead of the otherway around), doc hayward asking laura if she ever visits her parents,laura listening to cooper’s tapes and having to keep stoppingbecause it’s too painful for her

T: Any fandomtropes you can’t stand?

I used to not reallybe one for kidfic but after writing parent trap au, I’ve comearound to it, sort of, but besides that….sickfics aren’t reallymy vibe all the time, I feel like every time I see the word ‘whump’I hear kill bill sirens, POORLY-EXECUTED ANGST, those fics werepeople meet by walking into the wrong room/apartment or somethingsends my anxiety skyrocketing, when people ina fandom only ever dump angst on just onecharacter in a pairing (not that I’m advocating for ‘hurt all thecharacters all the time’ but like, if I see one more fic about howmiserable only crowleymust be I’m gonna fucking lose it.) (i’m sorry I apparently neversaw him as particularly miserable!!! cause I never did!!!!!), I don’t care for zombies or apocalypsefic very much.

#cerealninjakat

[preciouspixie]

Because I've been wanting to share this for a while, meet my A Series of Unfortunate Events OC, Marianne! I've had her for a long time, since I reread the books about a year ago and I've touched her up after watching the Netflix series and rediscovering my love for ASOUE~ (*Note: Her information is mostly based off the NETFLIX version, since I believe it to be a reboot and not an adaption.*) (***This contains the more basic facts about her, other posts later will reveal her backstory as well as quirks, likes, and dislikes!***) (This contains many spoilers for both the books and Netflix series!!! Please read them yourself before you even think about reading this or else you'll spoil the fun!!)   (info under cut)

- Name - Marianne L. (Last Name Unknown) - Age - Suspected to be somewhere in her late twenties to early thirties - Gender - Female - Occupation - (Formerly) Gypsy/Fortune Teller (Formerly) A member of Count Olaf's troupe (Currently) Unknown; Suspected to be a gardner - Volunteer? - Since she joined that caravan when she was fifteen. - Fire-fighting or Arsonist? -

(Formerly) Fire-fighting

(Formerly) Arsonist

(Currently) Chef Salad - Residence - (Formerly) A caravan; later a traveling cart (Formerly) Often wherever Count Olaf and his troupe were (Currently) Whereabouts unknown - Family - Mother - Marigold K. (Last Name Unknown) [Former Last Name: Sparrow] - Deceased due to fire Father - Alexander J. (Last Name Unknown) - Deceased due to fire Brother (Younger by a year) - Andrew M. (Last Name Unknown) - Status is Unknown - Olaf's Troupe + Olaf -

Hook-Handed Man/Fernald 

Marianne recognized Fernald the moment he stepped into her traveling cart with Count Olaf. He may have hand hooks instead of hands, and a few more scars, but there was no denying he was the st Fepson of Captain Widdershins himself. She didn't know if he recognized her. She was wary of him, she had no idea how much he had changed since he had went to the other side of the schism. After Olaf forced her to join his troupe, this forced her to spend time with him. Her nerves were eased as he was actually nicer than she had imagined, along with being rather silly. He taught her Fernald's Folly, along with several other card games he had memorized, so they could pass the time between kidnappings and such.

She spent a great deal of time with him over the duration of her time as a troupe member, all the way to the octopus submarine, until they became the last two surving original members of the Count's troupe. It is unknown whether over this time period the two developed feelings for one another, though it's very easy to say that they most likely did. Pale-Faced Women/Angelica and Elizabeth 

Being the only other female in the troupe, Marianne quickly became friends with the two. She adored their makeup and, with certain disguises, often asked them to help her dress. They talked regularly, and she could tell the difference between the two well very soon. She opened up to them first, around the time of The Carnivous Carnival, about her.. concerns about VFD along with Olaf. This was the first time she actually tried to get a member of the troupe to leave and, after Orlando's death in the hospital, she didn't want anyone else meeting the same fate, considering she cared a great deal about all of them. In the Slippery Slope, she grew proud of them when they were kind to Sunny, even if it was just little sentences. She was quick to tell them how happy she was. When they finally left, and while watching them go away into the mysteries of fate, she found that she was crying of happiness. The sisters were out. She wished them the best of luck. The Bald Man/Ivan

He was the one Marianne was the most worried about. He didn't talk much and certainly didn't seem nice. But, after some great perseuding by Fernald and the sisters, she did begin to talk to him. He spoke kindly to her, much to her surprise, and she soon found herself considering him as a great friend. He listened to her as she raved of her past, of her caravan, and of everything she missed and, in turn, she listened as he spoke of things he liked. Oddly enough, he seemed to love flowers of all sorts, he had even wished to be a florist before joining Olaf's troupe. He became almost like her bodyguard. Often times, he would actually pick her up and place her somewhere else in the room, considering she was very light, just so she'd be away from the danger. After the Carnivous Carnival, Marianne almost had a breakdown on the spot. Two friends, new and old, dead so fast? It took Esme threatening to hit her into the lion pit herself for her to finally get up from the ground and start helping. The Person of Indetermined Gender/Orlando 

Orlando was probably the one that Marianne was scared of the least. After speaking with them, she grew to enjoy their spacy personality and blunt, yet truthful, statements. They became such good friends that they could communicate silently if needed, as all good friends can. She often gave them the food she didn't it and helped them decide what clothes to wear. During the Wide Window, whilst she was disguised as a mime, they were the only ones that could fully understand her wild, flailing gestures that screamed, "Josephine's house fell off the freaking cliff!!!" After their death in the Hostile Hospital, she silently cried on the car ride, trying to hide it from Olaf and Esme so they wouldn't yell at her. She secretly hoped that maybe, just possibly, that they were alive. Fiona Widdershins 

Marianne smiled when she saw Fernald's younger sister and immediately stepped forwards and hugged her as a greeting. She considered her as a younger sister almost upon first meeting, just because of all Fernald had told her of his sister. Hugo, Collete, and Kevin

After thinking about it for a while, Marianne just decided not to interact with them. It wasn't that they didn't seem like nice people, it was just that they obviously would give any secrets she had to Olaf if it meant being considered a good henchperson. *(Warning: The next two paragraphs contains mentions of violence and slight abuse, please do not read if such things are sensitive subjects to you!!)* Esme Gigi Genevieve Squalor, the City's Sixth Most Important Financial Advisor

Marianne can say without guilt that she hates Esme with all her heart and soul. Esme clearly felt the same way about her. Every single day when she could, she would insult her for just about anything, from a hair being out of place to her shirts being different shades of red. Marianne was unsure whether this was because of jealously or just because she wanted someone to torture. It got to the point where Esme would force her to wear hideous, 'out' clothing, cut out parts of her hair, and tell her not to bathe just to get some laughs. The Grim Grotto was where it became its very worse, considering darling little Carmelita Spats wanted in on it as well.

Count Olaf

Marianne doesn't hate Olaf. She fears him. From the very beginning, he wouldn't let her out of his sight, wouldn't leave her by herself. When drunk, and when sober, he would constantly threaten to slap her, or even hit her with a wine bottle, if she even slightly heistated to do as he said. It was easy to see such abuse on her, the Baudelaires and the troupe would see her often with a black eye, or see several bruises on her arms, even a cut across her cheek. She became a robot around him, always doing as he asked with an emotionless face, always mumbling 'Yes, sir' as she did so. It was hard to do, but at least after The Austere Academy he stopped. The Baudelaires/Quagmires

Marianne loved the Baudelaires from the moment she saw them. She wanted to hug them and tell them everything was okay, wished to reach out to them and tell them of the secret organization their parents were too late to tell them of. But she couldn't. She knew she couldn't, not with Olaf breathing down her neck. So, instead, she limited herself to small, subtle gestures. Kind smiles and affectionate, motherly touches on the shoulders. Gentle and nice words. Stories of her past, of her caravan when she could. Kisses on the top of their heads when the boss' back was turned. In The Grim Grotto, she broke down in tears as she hugged them all (which was difficult, considering Sunny was in a diver's helmet) and apologized for her many mistakes of not helping them, telling them how proud she was and how proud their parents would be, telling them that she loved them very much and hoped they would be safe. Marianne was aware of the Quagmire Fire and of the Fortune they had. However, she had never seen Isadora and Duncan until they were trapped in Olaf's secret tower room. When it was her turn to watch them, she told them stories, recited all the poems she could remember, and comforted them the best she could. Beyond that, Olaf didn't allow her to speak to them much. She wasn't even aware Quigley was alive until she met him as well (during The Penultimate Peril) thought their time spent together was much shorter. - Disguises - (She can't talk for most disguises because Olaf doesn't want her to say any secrets to anyone.) The Reptile Room - Nurse Mary; Was originally supposed to be Lucafont, but she fell asleep and Orlando had to step in instead, though she was later a 'mute nurse-in-training.' The Wide Window - Annie the Mime; She just wanted to be a mime, that's literally it. Plus she made a bet that she could go the whole job without talking once. The Miserable Mill - May; Fore(wo)man-in-training, has a 'hoarse throat' and can't speak. The Ersatz Elevator - Ann; A cleaning lady who currently does nothing because cleaning ladies are 'out.' One of the few disguises where she's allowed to speak. The Hostile Hospital - Nurse Mary once again; For rather obvious reasons.

#asoue oc #asoue #oc #a series of unfortunate events #fc #fan character #origina; character #asoue netflix #count olaf #i hope she's a nice character- #more info will be given with following posts

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

All Those Things They Couldn’t Say - A Runaway Baudelaires AU

{ao3} {tumblr} {masterlist}

Chapter Two - Beatrice and Bertrand make a Grave Error

The Baudelaire children usually didn’t go out on their own. It wasn’t that their parents didn’t trust them, but there had been several instances where they had to drop everything and immediately leave town, and Beatrice and Bertrand were absolutely terrified that one day their children would be too far away for them to pick up, and they’d end up separated, and then somehow the world would explode. But sometimes, if the kids were reasonably cautious, they could take a day to themselves. 

Violet was sitting at the edge of the beach, tying back her hair. “Klaus, at what angle are the prevailing currents?” 

Klaus pulled a book from the basket, reading aloud from the chart inside. Beside them, Sunny gnawed on a rock, gave it a glare, and then tossed it aside, reaching for one that wasn’t sandstone. 

“Of course, we’ll need the right projectile.” Klaus said. 

“That’s where Sunny comes in.” Violet said. “How you doing, sweetie?” 

Sunny smiled and held up the stone, now perfectly flat. “Asill!” she called, meaning something akin to, “Ready!” 

Violet pushed back the picnic basket, and stood, waving the rock in her hand. 

“Excuse me, Violet,” Klaus said, “Why are you using your left hand?” 

“I’m curious to see if I can throw as far with my left as I can with my right.” 

“I thought this was to gather data, though.” 

“My invention may need to differentiate between dominant and non-dominant hands.” 

“I guess that’s true. Mark the rock.” 

“Shit, I almost forgot.” Violet said. She knelt down, opening up the basket, and pulling out some chalk from underneath the canned food. “Here it is.” She drew a large X, and then stood up again and skipped. The three siblings watched as the rock tossed itself across the water and then, after Klaus called out nine skips, Violet handed him her ribbon and dove in. 

Sunny cheered as the siblings were splashed. She loved getting wet and messy, though she knew it was a bad thing, as they only had a few clothes at a time. “Luto!” she cheered, meaning, “Get mud on us next!” 

“Sunny, no.” Klaus sighed, pulling a dry shirt from the basket to wipe his glasses. 

“Ye!” Sunny said, which meant something like, “Sunny, yes!” 

Klaus replaced his glasses and looked back to the water, to see Violet emerging several feet away, her hair pressed against her face. She held up the rock, and called, “How far?” 

“What?” 

“How far?” 

“What?” 

Violet sighed and swam closer, eventually making her way back onto the sand, now dripping wet. “I said, ‘how far?’” She repeated, handing Klaus the rock.

“Oh.” Klaus considered, absent-mindedly pocketing the stone, and then told her his best guess. 

“We’ll need exacts, of course,” Violet said, squeezing her hair, and then shaking like a dog. “We’ll need some kind of measuring device.” She took her ribbon from Klaus, tying her hair back again. “I need a measuring device. Portable and waterproof. Sunny-” 

“Gack!” Sunny shouted, pointing ahead. “Look at that mysterious figure emerging from the fog!” 

The children looked up; the beach was, indeed, quite foggy, and up ahead, was some sort of figure moving towards them. 

 Violet immediately tensed up, and grabbed the basket, slamming it shut and flipping the lock. Klaus lifted Sunny, who leaned into his shoulder and squinted her small eyes. 

“It only seems scary because of all the mist.” Klaus said. 

Violet looked very carefully, and then instantly relaxed. She dropped the basket to the ground, and ran forwards.

“Mother! Father!” 

Klaus’s face brightened, and he also ran with his big sister, lifting Sunny higher as she cheered. Out of the mist, Beatrice ran forwards, enveloping her daughter in a tight hug. 

“Do we- Father!” Klaus squealed as Bertrand also hugged him, then decided to go the extra mile and spin him and Sunny around. Sunny laughed and threw up her arms as if they were on a ride, while Klaus just said, “Dad! Come on!” 

“I assume this isn’t urgent, then?” Violet laughed, as Beatrice let her go and looked her over. 

“No. Why are you all wet?” 

“I jumped in the water to get a rock.” 

“Well, okay. So long as your clothes dry-” 

“These will be fine, they’re the right material.” 

“Is it time to go already?” Klaus asked. “We only just stopped looking at fish and tide pools and just started skipping rocks.” 

“Sorry, Klaus.” Bertrand said, putting him and Sunny down and straightening Sunny’s bonnet. “But the post office is closed for the weekend, which means we can get into the attic if we hurry before the custodians lock the doors.” 

“Will Lemon Man send us a telegram?” Violet asked, in a sing-song voice; she’d come up with the half-rhyme when she was eight, to entertain Klaus. 

“We hope so. His last message said he should be speaking soon.” Beatrice said, her face lighting up a little. 

“And,” Bertrand smiled slightly, “When we get there, we have a surprise for you children.” 

“Cake?” Sunny asked, excited. 

“No, afraid not.” Bertrand laughed, and he took Klaus’s hand. “Come on, let’s hurry it up before we have to climb through the window.” 

Beatrice creaked open the backdoor to the post office, peered inside, and then waved and went in. Violet followed cautiously, holding onto Sunny with one arm and Klaus’s hand with the other. Bertrand took up the rear, glancing behind them every now and again just to make sure they hadn’t been followed. 

Violet remembered a few years ago- she’d had to have been ten or eleven- when they had been followed. Beatrice had quietly asked her if she recognized the man in the black hat behind them at the bookstore, and Violet realized he’d been a few tables away at the café, and Klaus muttered that he’d been at the same grocery store. Beatrice and Bertrand had taken them down several aisles of the shop they were in, zig-zagging best they could, before going out into the road, running wildly down several streets until they found a crowd, pushing through it, and then picking a well-populated spot to sleep- a homeless shelter, where thankfully nobody asked questions, and a nice lady taught Violet and Klaus how to play clapping games. But even then, Violet remembered a dread in the pit of her stomach, one that didn’t go away until they were three towns away, and the black-hat man made no further appearance, and Klaus had already forgotten the incident and almost ran away to chase a cat. 

She hated that dread, and now she had two siblings to help her parents look after, one of whom had no sense of fear. But at least they weren’t completely helpless; Sunny was quite the biter, and though Klaus was a slower learner than her, he could hold his own in a fight at least long enough for backup to arrive. They could run, they could hide. And they were all on the lookout for followers, anyone they recognized too many times- or sometimes even specific people. Every now and again, Mother or Father would see something in the newspaper, and turn it around and point to someone and warn them that person was an enemy- either from VFD or against, it didn’t matter. They were an enemy to their parents, and therefore the children. 

Beatrice directed them away from a room with some noise inside- probably a janitor, making sure everything was clean and locked up- and herded them towards a staircase. There, she signalled them several numbers with her hands- two, fifteen, twenty-seven. The stairs that creaked. Violet went up first, swiftly skipping the steps, while Klaus took a bit longer, watching to make sure Violet skipped the step before doing so himself. Even Sunny fell silent, which was very nice; it had taken them quite some time to convince her that, yes, she had to stop humming or crying or giggling when they needed to be quiet. 

Beatrice finally pushed open the door to the attic, and peered in, lighting a candle that lay beside the door. The small room flickered with the dim light, and Violet’s eyes flickered, too, as she saw the old telegrams stored around them. 

“These still work.” Beatrice nodded as Violet put Sunny down, reaching again for her ribbon. “Take one apart if you want, but leave at least one working, in case Lemony contacts us.” 

“Loco?” Sunny asked, which meant something like, “He knows where we are?” 

“He has a… general idea.” Bertrand explained, as Klaus put the basket by the wall and he closed the door. “We never tell anyone exactly where we are, Sunny.” 

“But more importantly,” Beatrice knelt by the ground, and her children quickly sat around her, forming a circle with a space left for their father, “Our surprise. Are you ready?” 

“Mother, of course we are.” Klaus tried to hide his smile. 

“Enough with the theater kid reveal, just tell us.” Violet said. 

Beatrice made a pouting face. “What? Too dramatic for you?” 

“We’re not babies, Mom.” 

“Dis,” Sunny said, which meant, “That’s offensive.” 

“Shut up, Sunny, you wanna see, too.” 

Bertrand sat inbetween his two youngest children, looking more excited than they were, and said, “Bea, dear, show them what we got.” 

Beatrice smiled so, so brightly, and then she reached into her jacket pocket, and whipped out a deck of cards. 

The Baudelaires immediately lost their minds. 

“Holy shit!” Klaus shouted, forgetting that they should still be quiet and also that he probably shouldn’t swear in front of his parents. 

“Oh my God!” Violet started bouncing up and down, a dazzling glee spread across her face. “Oh my God! You got some? We can have some? For a while?” 

“Pok!” Sunny screamed, which meant something like, “You’ll teach me to play, right? You said you would!” 

Beatrice also bounced slightly, dropping the pack onto the floor in front of Sunny, who immediately grabbed it and bit into the plastic wrap to open it. “Yes! There was some in the convenience store, and since it’s finally warm enough we could ditch one pack of matches, so we have room for these now!” 

“I’ll deal!” Klaus took the cards from Sunny, while she continued to bite into the plastic. “What are we playing first?” 

“Pesca!” Sunny said. “Go fish!” 

“Or,” Beatrice took a card from Klaus, “I could show you some tricks!” 

“Yes! Yes!” Violet cheered. She quickly turned to Sunny and said, “Mother’s card tricks are the best. She can make them disappear!” 

Sunny gave her a look of disbelief. “Jan,” she said, which meant, “Yeah, right.” 

“Well, Sunny,” Beatrice said, showing her the ace of hearts, “If you think so…” Then, with a swish of her hand, the card was gone. 

Violet and Klaus clapped, while Bertrand laughed. Sunny, however, widened her eyes in shock, and then she let out a wail. 

Beatrice’s face fell. “Oh, no, Sunny, look, I can bring it back!” She waved her hand, and the ace of hearts was in her hand again. 

Sunny stopped crying, a look of amazement on her face. “Wow!” she clapped. 

“Now,” Bertrand said, “I was thinking about Patience. Klaus, do you want to show Sunny how to play?” 

Klaus nodded, spreading out the cards. “See, Sunny, here the symbols don’t matter, but the numbers and colors. You know what numbers to look for, right?” 

“Dec!” Sunny said, which meant, “One through Ten!” 

“Good. Then after Ten comes the Jack, the Queen, and the King. Now, can you remember them in descending order?” 

“Toidi.” “Yes, Klaus, I’m not an idiot.” 

Klaus spread out the cards, and they all spread out, calling out cards they thought they could play. This continued for quite some time, to the point where Beatrice had to light a second candle so they could keep playing, and Sunny had to make sure nobody saw her yawn and would make her go to bed. 

“Who taught you how to play cards?” Violet asked, after a while. 

“My foster mother.” Bertrand said. “Beatrice learned from…” 

He trailed off, but Beatrice finished. “From my chaperone.” 

They fell silent. Then, Klaus said, “Well, I bet they didn’t think that part of the game would be trying to keep an infant from eating the- Sunny, stop it!” 

Sunny put down the queen of spades, huffing. That was enough to brighten the mood again, and Beatrice let out a loud laugh, almost doubling over. “S-Sunny, please- please, they’re not food.” 

“Doo,” Sunny said, which meant, “Everything’s food if you eat it.” 

“Sunny.” Bertrand laughed. 

“God, you’re going to be a disaster when you get older.” Violet giggled, placing a  card down. 

“Xis,” Sunny huffed, which meant something like, “No, I’m going to be the Queen, so bow to me, peasants.”

“Now, Sunny,” Bertrand chided, “That’s no way to talk to your loyal subjects.” 

“Loyal my ass,” Violet snorted. “We’re throwing her down the garbage chute first chance we get. Too much dead weight.” 

“Bapa!” “I’ll show you who’s dead weight!” 

Sunny launched herself at Violet, barely shaking her balance. Violet, though, flopped on the ground, crying, “Oh no! The Queen has gone mad with power!” 

“The Queen is attacking the Royal Scientist!” Klaus shouted, before picking Sunny up and waving her in the air. “Off with her head!” 

“Viva la Revolución!” Violet cheered from the floor. 

“Now, now,” Beatrice laughed, “Does the Empress have to step in?” 

“No, the Empress can go make out with the Emperor.” Klaus said, as he tossed Sunny into the air and caught her again. 

“Well, if you insist-” Bertrand said. 

“Dad, no! Not in front of the baby!” 

“I’m baby!” Sunny cheered, as Klaus tossed her again. 

But before they could say any more, they heard a telegram machine start up. 

Beatrice immediately leapt to her feet, rushing to the machine that was printing out a small paper for them. Bertrand froze, eyes wide. 

“Lemon Man has sent us a telegram!” Klaus said. 

Violet didn’t join in his laughter, though, instead inspecting her parents’ faces. Whenever she was present for the receiving of a telegram, her parents always had the same look, a mixture that took her several experiences to decipher. First, in their jumble of instant emotions, was an excitement- whether positive or negative depended on how much of a jam they were in, though her parents made sure that they were never in too much danger to begin with. Second was relief, because it meant Snicket knew where they were and could send them news, though it was always in code. Third was a fear, fear that this would be horrible news, or someone else’s message, telling them that Snicket had been captured and someone was coming for them. Last, and hardest to figure out- in fact, Violet only placed it now, as Beatrice returned with the paper, showing it to Bertrand, who took out a pen to help decode- was a longing. She wondered what the longing was for- for the life they’d left behind, or just for their friend. They’d always seemed very fond of Lemony, whenever they discussed him; they must have been incredibly close. 

“He hasn’t used this code in a while.” Beatrice snorted. “Finally remembered it existed.” 

“Yeah, he’s gotta stop using Sebald. Too wordy.” Bertrand said. 

“First of all, that’s just how Lemony is.” Beatrice said. “Second, bold words coming from ‘attempting a botanical hybrid through the tuberous canopy, which should bring safety to fruition despite its dangers to our associates in utero.’” 

“Hell, Bea, you still have that memorized?” 

“I’m an actress, dear, memorization is my job.” 

“Get a room!” Klaus said, rolling his eyes and bouncing Sunny on his lap, where she had started to eat her bonnet. 

“You need any help with that, Mother?” Violet asked, peering over at her parents circling letters and scribbling them at the paper’s edge. 

“Thank you, Vi, but I think we’ve got it.” Beatrice said. She got to the last sentence, and said, “Alright, let’s see what our silence knot has for us today.” 

Her and Bertrand’s eyes widened, however, as they read the message, and Violet could see a flash of fear. Shit. That wasn’t good news.

“Mother? What does it say?” Klaus asked, his face falling. Slowly, Violet started to pick up the playing cards. 

Beatrice scanned the note, as if hoping that it would say something different. Then, quietly, she read. 

HURRY. YOU ARE IN DANGER. I CAN KEEP YOU SAFE BUT YOU MUST RETURN TO THE CITY. MAY BE ABLE TO CLEAR YOUR NAMES. BRING ALL ASSOCIATES. O IS NEARBY. -YSK

Violet knew “YSK” was Lemony’s way of signing off- Your Silence Knot, some kind of inside joke they shared- and she knew that O was one of the people they were running from- what was his name again? Omar? But it didn’t matter what she knew; the message chilled her. 

“The city?” Klaus’s voice grew quiet. “You said that’s where we were running from.” 

“We shouldn’t be there.” Violet said. 

Beatrice shut her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. Bertrand was the first one to respond. “Children, we trust Lemony more than anyone else on this planet- except you, of course. If he says…” he trailed off. “God, this is risky.” 

“He wouldn’t ask us to do it if it wasn’t important.” Beatrice whimpered- the children had never known their mother to whimper. 

“Are we sure it’s him?” 

“Nobody else would sign off with YSK, or know our location.” 

“How can Olaf be nearby?” Olaf, that was it!

“Which one is Olaf again?” Klaus asked. 

Bertrand drew in a sharp breath. Beatrice shook slightly, and said, “He’s… he’s the one we wronged.” 

Violet and Klaus went pale, while Sunny just looked up in confusion. “Whazzit?” she asked, but nobody responded. 

“Are you… gonna tell us what happened?” Klaus prodded, and Violet elbowed him. 

“We… we can discuss that when we’re safe.” Beatrice said. “We’ll have to move quickly. If we catch a train tonight, we should be there by morning.” 

“Do you have money?” 

“I have enough. We can put Sunny in the basket if someone wears an extra jacket, so we don’t have to pay for her ticket.” 

“Sure.” Sunny nodded, excited to do some sneaking. 

“Should we really bring the children?” Beatrice asked, glancing towards them. 

“Lemony said to bring all associates. Who else could he mean? He must have some kind of plan, right?” 

“Maybe he wants us to invite the designated safe people.” 

“It would take a while for all your safehouse peeps to show up.” Violet mentioned. Their parents had them all memorize the addresses of places to go if they got separated, but she doubted Lemony would know which houses they were- or, indeed, if the people living there knew they were a safehouse. 

Beatrice glanced back down at the telegram, running her hand over the message. Then, quietly, she said, “Do you think he could really clear our names?” 

Bertrand met her gaze, and they were clearly asking the same question- do we want him to? 

“So,” Violet interrupted, knowing her parents were thinking terrible things and not wanting that to continue for much longer, “Does this mean we get to meet our mysterious Lemony man?” 

Beatrice and Bertrand each took a deep breath, and then Bertrand said, “Yes.” 

Klaus smiled brightly, and he picked up Sunny. “What are we waiting for, then?” 

Beatrice grabbed her husband’s hand, and as the children ran to get all their bags and make sure they had everything, she whispered, “We’re seeing him again.” 

“We’re seeing him again.” Bertrand repeated, his voice just as full of hope as hers.

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