#VFD quotes
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When we grab you by the ankles,
Where our mark is to be made,
You'll soon be doing noble work,
Although you won't be paid,
When we drive away in secret,
You'll be a volunteer,
So don't scream when we take you,
The world is quiet here
#VFD quotes#vfd#count olaf#the world is quiet here#a series of unfortunate events#netflix#books#lemony snicket#kit snicket#jacques snicket#the baudelaire children#the baudelaire orphans#volunteer#volunteer fire department#esme squalor#tv shows#movies
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A sad story of an unfortunate love... đâ¤ď¸âđŠš
#beatrice baudelaire#lemony snicket#french girl#tinygirl#klaus baudelaire#violet baudelaire#sunny baudelaire#france#booklover#asoue books#asoue x reader#asoue netflix#dragonfly#vfd#a series of unfortunate quotes#a series of unfortunate events
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Quote Debunk 10 - A Series of Unfortunate Debunks:
The Complete Works of Contradictory Logic in ASOUE: Volume I
Part 1 - The Bad Beginning: S1 E1
For Debunk 10, I'm going big: I shall list each and every statement that can confuse or distract viewers the first time around, but on closer inspection, actually make no sense.
12:42 - BAUDELAIRE MANSION DESTROYED (headline)
"But I thought it would cheer them up, the Gloomy Guses!" ÂŹ Eleanora Poe.
14:17 - "Our home is your home" (Arthur Poe); "But don't touch anything" (Eleanora Poe)
15:39 - "I remember how I was when I was your age" (Mr Poe); "We're all different ages" (Baudelaires)
15:49 - "And he's employed as an actor, so you know his excitement is genuine." ÂŹ Arthur Poe
26:43 - "I told them to cry using their inside voices" ÂŹ Olaf
27:51 - "I open my home to them and all they do is complain; the bathroom is filthy, the rat is noisy, the bed is cramped!"
Why are you opening a disgusting, rat-infested home to 3 orphans, Olaf?!
From the same scene, this piece:
"The plural of 'bed' is 'bed'." ÂŹ Olaf
29:02 - *Puts finger in mouth*; "The lamb was too salty"
30:43 - "Your secret tower room?"; "WRONG! My secret tower room."
33:28 - Pasta Puttanesca; "I wonder what that means in Italian" ÂŹ K.B.
NO, YOU DO NOT KLAUS! NO, YOU DO NOT!
34:00 - Something I picked up when reviewing the episode for this post: the trolley reads "THIS TROLLEY DOES NOT TURN ON RED LIGHTS"... why? A bit nonsensical if you ask me, but maybe Handler had his reasons...
35:58 - "N! For the knowledge, 'cause I'm very, very smart!" ÂŹ O.
So smart, you can't spell knowledge. Amazing.
37:25 - "...Like 2 pieces of a bread in the middle of a sandwich." ÂŹO.
Followed by Sunny's obvious correction.
As of 40:10 - From Olaf's monologue: "...for the purpose of plotting theater..."
Yeah. He told us from the start and we missed it.
40:41 - "There is no 'I' in acting..."
Except for the one right in the middle, of course.
40:58 - "There is only what the French call a certain... 'escargot'. "
What have snails got to do with acting?!
A noteworthy point: Only the villains give this counter-acting logic; maybe my hypothesis will still stand by TE...
ÂŹ Th3r3534ch1ngr4ph, Unfortunate Theorist/Snicketologist
#asoue#vfd#lemony snicket#a series of unfortunate events#snicketverse#asoue netflix#quote debunk#a series of unfortunate debunks#the bad beginning#olaf#mr poe#eleanora poe#arthur poe#the baudelaires#klaus baudelaire
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Vital Fireman's Diary
Once I wanted to make a pokemon crossover/fusion with a series of unfortunate events. VFD felt like it could totally be a thing in a pokemon verse. I never finished it, but I did write recruitment
Has anyone played the GBA game of a series of unfortunate events? I love that game. Love the books too, but the GBA game was unique
--
Vagrant Febass demersal.
Variable fitness Digladiate
Dinomania, Discept (debate), discophoran (train jellyfish)
----
It starts in a taxi, when your driver goes to show you baby pictures.
Its you. You are a little creeped out, but you can't say anything, yet.
You are being tested. You don't know, exactly yet, what the test is testing for in you, but you recognize the anticipation in their eyes, hidden interest in their voice.
You are not quite sure, what the test will recruit you for, either. You don't mind. You have been needing a job, and if the details are mysterious in nature, you wouldn't be the first to get involved in that sort of work.
Getting a decent paying job, particularly when you don't seem to have the Pokemon they are looking for in it, can be a daunting prospect.
If one is lucky, and hard working, one might get a job working at Devon, a Pokemon centre, or at a market. If one is particularly good at Pokemon battling, one might have enough success as a Pokemon trainer to become a gym leader, or even Elite. If one lives close enough to a Pokemon professor, or has the connections, one might become a Pokedex assistant, filling in a Pokedex, with the possibility of becoming a trainer.
One could also apprentice to a wandering teacher, such as a martial artist, or a fisherman, but that is a lot of travel, for not a lot of money.
If you are lucky, and talented, you might be able to work at a gym.
Alternatively, one can go into a trade, such as Plummer, or a construction worker.
You don't have the connections to get these kinds of jobs yet, and Ageism works against you in the apprenticeship based ones. You are too young or too old to be training, apparently. Fourteen is an uncomfortable age to be.
There are reasons why your friends have turned to the criminal side of things. It pays, and accepts all ages.
That way, they can eat, and buy potions, and pay taxes, and have a roof to sleep under at night.
The economy is probably going to be brought down by violent revolution, sometime in the far future. Hopefully, by someone with math skills.
In the meantime, you need the money, so you firmly keep your mouth shut, when you are dragged out of the taxi by your ankles.
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Is Quigley Quagmire dyslexic?
I have a theory!! Hear me out hear me out-
Reasons:
1: His siblings have very English-based interests (poetry+journalism) which require a lot of writing whereas Quigley is into cartography which is largely just images and numbers. Imagine Quigley struggling with words then finding cartography, something so fascinating and exciting which doesnât need words to do. Isadora could write couplets to capture the feeling of a place, Duncan could scourge newspaper archives for historical context on the same place but Quigley would be able to map it out clearly+ precisely without needing a single written word to do so. đşď¸
2: His insistence to the Baudelaires that he is âwell-readâ (possibly stemming from being shamed for his learning disability+trying to cover it up). đ
3: He knew in advance the questions that the Vernacularly Fastened Door would ask and yet, despite having the opportunity during his time in Montyâs library, he did not research the answers in the books there. đ§ â
4:Maybe one of the reasons why Quigley didnât try reuniting with his siblings until they were out of reach (kidnapped) was bc when he realised they were at a boarding school he imagined himself being humiliated (nobody and no school Ofc should humiliate anyone for having learning disabilities but letâs face it. Prufrock absolutely would.) đŤ
5: When Quigley+the Baudelaires are in the burned down VFD headquarters in Netflix!TSS, Quigley comes across a partially burnt book and reads the title as âOdesâ, Klaus soon corrects him saying it must have been originally titled âCodesâ because of the positioning of the letters on the page (too far to the right so Klaus was able to tell that a letter was missing). Quigley may not have noticed the gap where a missing letter should have been as he may be familiar with experiencing the âriver effectâ, something which dyslexic people can experience. đ
[ âDyslexic users may sometimes see the river effect in the text theyâre reading [1]. This is when large gaps occur within consecutive lines of textâ]-uxmovement.com
â˘~đď¸VFD+prejudice&discriminationđď¸~â˘
More on a matter I touched on briefly earlier, as much as I love many snicketverse characters, given the ideals VFD pushes onto them
(ie âwell read people are less likely to be evilâ also that quote about noble people always carrying a book with them, just to name a few examples)
I feel like they would treat Quigleyâs dyslexia as something shameful and so Quigley, in his âcool+capable volunteerâ persona he puts on in TSS would try hiding the fact heâs dyslexic. The whole âwell read people are less likely to be evilâ thing he says is just soâŚodd but it could make sense if Quigley was just trying to really push the idea that he is a voracious reader.
Also, another example on how vfd members (Itâs really likely his parents were raised in VFD and so would have similar mindsets) would see dyslexia as shameful is how Lemony Snicket, when describing the main VILLAIN (Olaf) includes details of Olafâs spelling errors (eg not knowing how to spell âpoisonâ in TPP) and disregard of literature.
Lemony often uses the firestartersâ lack of knowledge about literature+lack of literary skills to portray them as villainous+ignorant. However, it strikes me as more than the firestarters being ânot interestedâ in literature than actively rebelling against the idea that knowing literature in depth/being well read=being noble. I mean, EsmĂŠ BURNED âAnna kareninaâ after vfd assigned it as summer reading. If she merely wasnât interested in literature she would have let the book collect dust. đĽ
Additionally, in ATWQ when Lemony is asked the âď¸difference between the noble and the villainous sides of VFDâď¸ the only answer he can come up with is âwe read more booksâ (not exact phrasing)
That concludes my rambling for now âď¸ âď¸
(Also, if anyone notices any mistakes in the info about dyslexia here then please lmk so I can correct it+avoid unintentionally spreading misinformation! :) )
#asoue#a series of unfortunate events#asoue theory#asoue theories#quigley quagmire theory#quigley quagmire#the quagmire triplets#quagmire triplets#lemony snicket#count olaf#atwq#vfd#asoue analysis#esme squalor#tss#the slippery slope
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The Mystery of Kit Snicket: Lies, Retcons, and the Role of R in ASOUE
The story behind the story is very important. Lemony wrote to a supposed sister in TSS. Here we discover that Lemony has a sister named Kit Snicket. And without using any means to try to hide information (as he had done in TCC and TSS), he openly said that he was trying to save the life of his sister Kit. I think we can say with complete certainty that when Lemony published ASOUE in his universe, several years had already passed since the main events narrated in the series.
The important question is: If Kit dies during the main events narrated in ASOUE, how could Lemony try to communicate with her and save her life many years after her death (that is, at the time of the publication of ASOUE)? While some argue for the idea of a "plot hole," I argue for the idea of a "conscious decision made in TE to retcon and make this woman, referred to as Kit at the time of publication, an imposter whom Lemony knew was an imposter and knowingly collaborated with."
In fact, in LSTUA, there were already some hints of this. Consider the original title of chapter 12 of LSTUA: "Is there anything a concerned citizen can do if he or she wants to help the Baudelaires?"
On page 192, we find Lemonyâs response to this question. Note who the response letter is addressed to:
"My dear sister, I understand how desperate our situation has become, but it is dreadful enough for people to have to read about the Baudelaires. I cannot imagine who would be brave enough to help them. With all due respect, Lemony Snicket."
What happened here? Someone sent a question to Lemony (the question in the chapter title), and he answered with "my dear sister." Interestingly, in THH, the VFD people handing out balloons and singing at the hospital explained to Klaus that "brother and sister" doesnât necessarily mean biological siblings but can refer to people in the same organization with the same goals.
With this in mind, we see the development of DHâs idea about Lemonyâs "dear sister." In THH, we learn brothers and sisters arenât always family. Then, in LSTUA, Kit appears as Lemonyâs real sister (published in our universe after THH). At the same time, another âsecretâ character is introduced: R. LSTUA is what truly allowed the world-building from TCC onward to become so consistent.
In a recent 667 interview (well, more like questions sent through Semb), DH said he made outlines for LSTUA and that we could take it seriously. LSTUA laid the groundwork for the Sebald Code, Jacques working on a submarine, and many other things. But back to Lemonyâs âdear sister.â LSTUA shows that VFD members sometimes pretend to be other members (and not just Olaf with disguises).
To get straight to the point: Iâm saying that R took Kitâs identity and Lemony knew it. Lemony knew Kit had died on the island, her death witnessed by a few people whose whereabouts are now unknown.
Now, look at what R wrote to Lemony on page 25 of LSTUA:
"There are not many of us left, Mr. Snicket, but we are ready to help you in any way we can⌠Gone are the wigs I used when I wanted to disguise myself as you disguised as someone else."
R promised to help Lemony and was known for going undercover. Did DH forget or ignore R in the main story? No! In fact, R is mentioned in TGG, which proves DH included her in the narrative. Of course, the quotes in TE and TBL are more obvious, but even in TGG, Râs presence is "felt."
In ch. 8 of LSTUA, we see the story about "Miss K" at Prufrock Prep and the photo of a woman Lemony wrote about: "Will I ever see her again?" At first, maybe DHâs idea was that Miss K was Kit. But after TE, we know Miss K cannot be Kit. Kit died before the publication of TBB in the ASOUE universe, while Miss K brought one of ASOUEâs published books to Prufrock Prep. This means Miss K became someone else, not Kit. Probably a retcon, but thatâs fine, since itâs never revealed that Miss K is Kit. There are enough loopholes to suggest sheâs someone elseâmost likely R.
As a result, the secret message in TCC and the letter in TSS couldnât have been sent to Kit. ( Note: R is only a suspect). Since Lemony is an unreliable narrator capable of lying or making mistakes, the recipient could even be Beatrice, whom he believes is alive (maybe she is, maybe not). With Lemonyâs unreliability, there are so many possibilities that I have to establish guiding principles for investigating the Baudelaire case.
The fact that Kit is described as alive in TGG, called "my sister Kit" by Lemony, is clear evidence that Lemony lied. When he called her "dear sister," it couldâve been ambiguous, but naming her outright makes it a direct lie. The purpose seems to be to mislead anyone in his universe reading ASOUE to gather intel to capture Lemony or his allies.
By the time TGG was published, Kit had been dead for years. Lemony knew this. Most of his detailed knowledge of the Baudelairesâ thoughts and actions comes from the book written by the island castaways. That book told him how Kit died and where she was buried. This allowed him to write such a detailed account of the Baudelaires, including their private thoughts and actions.
#ASOUE#LemonySnicket#KitSnicket#VFD#Retcon#TheEnd#TGG#TCC#TSS#LSTUA#BeatriceLetters#MissK#RIdentity#UnreliableNarrator#BaudelaireMystery#DanielHandler#667DarkAvenue#SebaldCode#DearSister#SnicketFans#ASOUETheories#WinnipegDuchesses#VioletBaudelaire#KlausBaudelaire#SunnyBaudelaire#SnicketUniverse#ASOUELore#HiddenClues#VFDSecrets#SnicketRetcon
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what are the religious themes and parallels of ASOUE part thirteen?
Iâm so glad you asked! and completely unprompted, too :)
okay so you know that karl marx quote âreligion is the opium of the peopleâ? and how that means that religion allows its followers to turn a blind eye to societal problems and to ease peopleâs concerns about their life? yeah well lemony snicket did that literally. the island in The End is a result of Ishmael realising that he had lost control of VFD. originally, he wanted to create a peaceful society of noble, well-read people â this led him to enforce a black-and-white view of morality onto its members. obviously, there were people who criticised this, but believe it or not ishmael is not an open minded man. once again, he believes that there is an objective view of morality, and those questioning it are inherently evil. so, he convinced the volunteers that those people were dangerous, which led to a schism, which led to. well you know. anyways that was a gross oversimplification because thatâs not what iâm talking about! what i was GOING to say was that he took some people affected by the schism â people who were also seeking an escape from the horrors that VFD had put them through ��� and he created a civilisation for them on an island. the only source of drinkable water on this island was cordial contaminated with opioids, and he knew this. in fact, he actively stopped newcomers from creating a water filtrations system. he then did everything in his power to make the inhabitants forget their old lives. he convinced them theyâd ended up here by shipwreck, he made them bring him anything that washed up to determine if it was âsafeâ, he stored any reminders of the past on the other side of the island and banned the inhabitants from going there.
ânothing wrong with a little opium for the people!!â SIR. SIR THERE IS. Ishmael believes that peace should be achieved through any means necessary. therefore, if a problem has become too difficult to solve, he is all for simply pretending it doesnât exist. This is why he gives the opiates to the islanders. He believes that maintaining a peaceful VFD has grown too complicated, and that the only way a peaceful society can exist is if its members unquestionably accept his rules. He not only believes morality to be black and white, but enforces this belief onto the volunteers, teaching them that following his authority is inherently âgoodâ, and those who oppose or even question it are inherently evil. Since he couldnât run a society like this in the âreal worldâ â he would always have opposition, which would always mean conflict â he simply created his own, smaller world, where the civilians were too high off their balls to think critically about his leadership. After that, he only had to seem benevolent on the surface because they would all be too comfortable to dig deeper.
Now, black-and-white ethics, dictation of peace, dismissal of societal issues, and lack of scrutiny towards authority are all classic criticisms of the catholic church, and you could definitely draw some parallels between Ishmaelâs style of leadership and organised religion. This has all been quite generic antitheism so far. BUT THATâS NOT ALL!!!
There is an apple tree on the âbadâ side of the island. the tree is hollow. there is a library inside, containing any books which may remind the islanders of their past life. these mostly include books from the volunteers and firestarters, the âgoodâ and âbadâ sides of the schism. one might say itâs a sort of. a s. a sort of tree of knowledge of good and evil, if you will.
And then later in the book, klaus and violet, a man and a woman, are given an apple from that tree by a snake. classic daniel handler subtlety <3 so ofc this represents genesis, but here is where we get Wierd With It.
The apple saves the baudelaires. They were poisoned with the medusoid mycelium, and the apple immunised them. in fact, the apple is not presented in a negative light in the slightest. this has VERY interesting implications in my opinion and it makes me think that daniel handler is saying, in the bible, eve was also never wrong for eating the fruit! we would be nowhere without the knowledge of sin and death and suffering, there would be no art without it, nor would there be appreciation for the good (ok this part might be me)! eve was in the right, and so was the snake!! which is also incredibly fitting because everyone thinks that the incredibly deadly viper is evil but it actually wouldnât hurt a fly (we know because monty tried to feed it flies :))
âohhh ur overthinking itâ yes on purpose overthinking this series is my number one hobby. anyways i just thought daniel handler was making an interesting point here :33 anyways i will add more stuff if i think of it
#late reply sorry i was busy literally all day </3#fake religious parallels fan ikik://#asoue#a series of unfortunate events#lemony snicket#asoue the end#cameron monologues#snicketverse
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Jerome/Jacques for the ship game?
jsjs my beloved ....
What made you ship it?
admittedly i'm taking some quotes a bit out of their context, but:
jacques talking about vfd in general: we get permission first before taking the kids. we were allowed to finished our tea. etc.
jacques when writing to jerome: and that's the reason people should never get tattoos
also:
jacques: please, jerome, do not marry this woman.
jerome: you know i always listen to your advice, my friend.
but also jacques's letter to jerome in general is so very âŚ.. so he asks him not to marry esme (under no circumstances should you marry that woman) and then proceeds to explain it by barely explaining anything at all, and instead of talking about esme in the rest of the letter he dived into his own background, gives him a clearer story on jacques himself but not at all why jerome shouldn't marry esme. and then he just expects this to work if jerome can receive the letter. every time i think about it i need to lie down on the floor
What are your favorite things about the ship?
"writing letters explaining why a marriage couldn't/shouldn't take place and then the letter never properly arriving" + "mountain trip date" âŚâŚ if i squint i can see beatrice/lemony parallels and i think that's beautiful.
Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?
i personally don't view jerome as completely oblivious to jacques's feelings while jacques was in some one-sided love with him. i think jerome shares those feelings, and is aware of jacques's feelings, but jacques is mysterious and jerome knows that jacques is involved in something bigger than what jerome thinks himself capable of handling, and he's too scared to dive into that. it's easier to pretend not to know their affections for each other is more than friends. but he absolutely knows. but he's not ready. he doesn't think he'll ever be.
#answered#fakeoldmanfucker#jacques snicket#jerome squalor#jacques x jerome#otp: please do not marry this woman
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RSU: asoue netflix
there are, in fact, things i do like or appreciate about the show!!
-i genuinely do love seeing babybea!! actually having a scene where she interacts with lemony is really great and it's such a precious scene too. her lil beret is fucking adorable. -the henchperson's coroner van in reptile room saying CORNER -olaf smashing the lights in the hallway in hostile hospital is truly scary and i always liked that part -"it's been eight minutes, do you want some tea?" is incredibly iconic. something i could see book!jacques saying as well -I'D GIVE ANYTHING TO SIT AND TALK WITH HIM AGAIN -honestly lemony's physical placement in the scenes was overall done really really well. lemony is an undeniable part of this world and this story and we get to see him there -also his costumes were stellar -i really do like seeing the denouements, like physically seeing them move around and in and out of scenes was really, really cool, like visually seeing the hotel and the three of them pretending to be two people honestly was incredible. in my initial notes about season 3 i said tv was made to show the three chapters that happen simultaneously and i stand by it bc it was neat to finally see!!!!!!!!!! -the green hotel has grown on me, too. i must say. same with the denouements having mustaches. -you know, show!poe was hilarious, honestly. when i think of mr. poe, i do in fact think of show!poe now, without fail. -"i speak all of them hella fluently" -oh the reveal of jacques' vfd tattoo in ersatz elevator was great -i think the song references in the dialogue were really fun!! 'i can hit a blackbird flying in the dead of night', 'oh, i'll tell you what i want', 'what's that thing james brown said?' -oh, that murakami quote, too!! -they really crafted an atmosphere on the show, with the sets and the clothes and the colors, and there were a lot of little background details to zoom in on or catch, and although maybe it wasn't an, expected atmosphere? it makes the show feel like a solid, contained world -violet's outfits were super cute!! -jacquelyn kicking the payphone off the hook and dialing with her heel -although it could've been handled differently, i liked the scenes of vfd in the background in the first season. i liked seeing more of gustav!!!!! -"look, here's a picture of us." "there's no one in that photograph." "we're locked inside the piano." -lucy punch as esme really was inspired -i love the pattern on the sugar bowl!! -not to keep bringing up reptile room but just the room itself. monty's house itself. it's always SO beautiful. like there's actually a lot of heart and love in his house and i just love the big glass windows so much -just seeing the books get the opportunity to be adapted as a whole -- even if, yeah, i don't consider it an overwhelmingly successful adaptation -- was still great and a real highlight of my life! the anticipation of it, watching the trailers (watching the mysterious completely unrelated trailer...........), getting my tattoo which was based off a season one eye design, the idea of the show brought back a lot of interest and love for the series!! and i know it brought a lot of new fans to the books afterwards, or previous fans back to the books!! and that's nice.
#thank you vera!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#i had a feeling this would be asked. i thought 'what's something i regularly dislike that i could be asked to say nice things about.......'#'..............................................netflix.......'
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ployphach phatchatorn thanawat. she's not in dangerous romance, but man is she pretty and gorgeous and perfect. let's all just think about her for a second.
okay now that that's out of the way, continuing episode 7 of dangerous romance
:( my boy
you silly little man kang, you need to know your limits
I know you wanted to be cool and to prove yourself by eating the spicy food (and also sailom definitely thought the raspy coughing sounds you were making from the spice were kinda sexy-sounding) but sometimes your own health and safety should be prioritised above impressing people
YES YES YES YES YES YES YESSSS
ITS GUYNAWA TIME BABEYYYYYY
AND HE IMMEDIATELY LOOKS RIGHT AT GUY BECAUSE OF COURSE THEYRE SITTING NEXT TO EACH OTHER (well, across the corner but its still technically next to him in my book)
my boy looks uncomfy
I can't tell if its bc of the bar setting or if its bc he's right next to his enemy/crush and his enemy/crush is staring directly at him in a way that says "I want to destroy you" but in a few different ways
HOLY FRICK JUST FRIKIN GRAB HIM AND TAKE HIM TO A RESTROOM AND SMOOCHY SMOOCH GRAB HIS FACE AND MAKE OUT
LMAO HE CALLED HIM NONG
I still dont know if they're going down the maxauto route or not, if its platonic or romantic, but either way their dynamic is incredible and I love it so much
đ
nO
LETS NOT
THAT IS A GROWN-ASS WOMAN
HE IS 17/18
AND HE IS ALSO QUEER AS HELL
SHE'S SO PRETTY BUT AAAAAAA NO
KANG
everybody say thank you kang
"thaaaank youuu kaaaaannngg"
GOUERBIGE4OUWBGSD
WAIT
OMG
OMG
OMG
GVIO3REHJDGPIOHVEJRPIOHJGPIOBEIRJHIOFGIOB9JERHIPO DJHOPFIGO[VBER[VFD[J
I think they're both aware of their feelings for each other but they're afraid of it/rejection and thus express those feelings through anger and I just can't wait for them to hate fuc
PFFT
WHAT IS IT WITH THIS EPISODE AND TELLING VERY-NOT-STRAIGHT CHARACTERS TO GO/BE STRAIGHT
AND "be straight with me" HONEY, HE CAN'T BE STRAIGHT AT ALL, AND HE CAN BE STRAIGHT THE LEAST WHEN HE'S WITH YOU
KISS
THEYRE CHALLENGING EACH OTHER
THEYRE SO FLIRTING
THEYRE SO IN LOVE
HOLY FRICK NUGGETS IM GOING INSANE
they cheersed
THEY CHEERSED THEIR CUPS
THEY DID THE CLINKY CLINK
I can't tell what he's thinking
it could be anywhere from "im so tired" to "he's so hot" to "man I wish I was that bottle rn" to just completely unimpressed
we all knew it would end like this
there was no other way it could've gone
(dear lord jesus please let them kiss in a moment)
HOLY FRICK
HOLY FRICK
I have such a severe case of side couple syndrome idk if you've noticed
im making strange noises
they're so important to me
ghibeisgdkhverbshdgbrehb
I feel like its important for everyone to know that im currently lying on my stomach looking at my laptop with my feet in the air kicking, but im also balancing my pillow on top of my feet because I do that sometimes, and im doing incredibly well at kicking my feet while not letting the pillow fall
GIVUERJDKBG
IM SMILING SO HARD
I LOVE THEM
oh he's recoiling
he has trauma we havent even begun to unpack yet
thinking back to the dog quote, where he implies his dad used harsh methods to "train" him, and he probably hit him a lot. the way he's yelling now, and the way kang is shrinking away in fear, keeping his voice low, avoiding eye contact, tells me this is bringing back a lot of repressed memories of pain and fear
that was... weirdly kind
I think he realised he had an audience, and he has a reputation of goodness to maintain for his election, and he needs to make sure he's still got a good eye from the public, and the public happens to contain kang's friends
but behind closed doors, the monster of pure anger that kang sees him as emerges from the shadows, leaking from all the dark corners of their mansion, and kang shuts himself off to not have to experience the horrors looming above him in the shape of his father
THEY ARE FRIENDS
CAPTAIN GRANDMA, LETS GOOOO
CAPITANO NONNA
YES okay so my thoughts were right
my thoughts were: the 'so we can go official now?' clip is gonna happen this episode
its gonna be kang's bravery in standing up for auto that makes sailom agree to let them be official
but I wasn't sure how that would happen this episode because I wasn't sure if there would be a soccer match this episode
BUT HERE IS PROOF so basically im amazing and im gonna be right and we should all appreciate me
...bRO
is this connection how hes gonna end up at kang's house to steal and commit crimes and perhaps shoot kang's dad @respectthepetty
WHY DO THEY LOOK LIKE THAT
WHY DO THEY LOOK LIKE THAT
HOLY FRICK
THATS RIDICULOUS
HOW ARE THEY GONNA MOVE IN THOSE CLOTHES, THE GUYS ARE IN FULL ASS SUITS
MAN I DONT LIKE THIS
THAT SUCKS
I THOUGHT MAYBE THE CHEERLEADING WAS ACTUALLY KIND OF GOOD IN THIS SHOW AND NOT TOXIC AND NOT EXPLOITATIVE OF WOMEN BUT APPARENTLY I WAS WRONG
anyway
oh
well- I feel slightly better about it now
okay they do look lovely and pimfah loves it and doesnt like feel uncomfortable so thats good
I just. you would think they would wear something less fancy for a... soccer game
ME
felt that
my emotions are stored in my eyes bro, whatever it is, its coming out in tears
GROUP HUGSSS I love group hugs
ITS BEEN TWO HOURS AND I HAVE FIFTEEN MINUTES LEFT OF THE EPISODE, LETS SEE HOW LONG IT TAKES ME TO WATCH 15 MINUTES (find out in the next post because I once again talked too much)
#quodekash disregards sleep because of dangerous romance#dangerous romance#dangerous romance series#dangerous romance the series#kangsailom#kanghansailom#sailomkang#sailomkanghan#guynawa#nawaguy#guynava#navaguy#marcpawin#pawinmarc#marc pahun#pawin kulkaranyawich#win pawin#perthchimon#chimonperth#perth tanapon#chimon wachirawit
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if you're writing a jacques snicket/olivia caliban fanfiction why haven't you quoted twelfth night act i scene v. (the speech that starts at line 223)
like. obviously every vfd member has at least three of shakespeare's plays floating around in their brains somewhere (even count olaf)
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Can you do đĽ?
Hello anon, thanks for the ask! Of course I can!
A random quote from a WIP:
This is from an AU WIP (that I scrapped) where the Quagmires and Baudelaires (unfortunate gen) join VFD from a young age and Klaus and Duncan are partnered up for a mission. Klaus is pretty shit at conversation cues. This is from their first meeting.
'Duncan nodded, and watched Klaus take a step before he turned suddenly to face him again. "I think itâs going to rain later, do you have an umbrella?âÂ
âNoâŚâ Duncan whispered, and he watched the grey clouds above with a wary look.Â
Klaus held out his own, which was black, with an ornate-style mahogany handle. It looked far too expensive. âBorrow mine.â
He let his eyes dart to the clouds again, incredulous. â...wonât you get wet, then?âÂ
Klaus shook out a hat heâd had folded up in his pocket and, quite suddenly, he smiled boyishly. âDonât worry, Iâll be fine with this,â he slotted it over his dishevelled curls and gave Duncan one last nod, âyou can return that to me on Wednesday.â'
#asoue#vfd#a series of unfortunate events#lemony snicket#ao3 fanfic#klaus baudelaire#unfortunate gen#duncan quagmire#ask game#dunklaus
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i was going to wait until i could pull quotes but this is just rattling unpleasantly in my brain and i need to share.
i was rereading parts of tua last night for fic purposes, and i noticed something.
1. when lemony is fired from the daily punctillio, elenora writes that they are REPLACING his column with Secret Organizations You Should Know About to be written by geraldine. This implies that there is no dramatic critic after lemony
2. when geraldine response to esmeâs letter, she references the dramatic critic that was just fired. because of point 1, this unambiguously refers to lemony.
3. geraldine is informing esme about the recent purchase of 667 dark avenue by jerome squalor, so that puts that purchase and esme and jeromeâs marriage at a fairly unambiguous point in the timeline relative to lemony being fired from the daily punctillio.
4. lemony is at the meeting for which we have the transcript. i think it is strongly implied that the headquarters they are abandoning is 667 dark avenue. if we follow that assumption, since they are abandoning the headquarters because of geraldineâs column that also fixes the meeting firmly in the timeline.
5. which calls into question how long lemony is out of contact with vfd after he receives jacquesâs letter with the disguise training. likely itâs only a few months, if that.
one day, iâm going to put together a timeline. which i will then ignore for fic purposes when i feel like, but i do really want to have a more concrete reference of what i think is the most plausible reading of canon events
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VFD Is fundamentally voluntary
I know itâs a lot of fun in the ASOUE fandom to point out the sinister nature of VFD as an organization. The books themselves make a point of how no person is purely good or evil, and people can be pushed into all sorts of actions by circumstances. That being said, I think it can kind of flatten the point to argue that the VFD recruitment process is kidnapping/indoctrination in the same way that the snow scouts being kidnapped by eagles is. And I recently reread the Unauthorized Autobiography so here are some quotes:
A lot of folks will quote âThe Little Snicket Ladâ but the point of that chapter is that the lyrics are inaccurate.
âThe cheesemakers...remain very close associates of my entire family.â Given that this was Valorous Farms Dairy, and the dairy is written to directly or mentioned in several future letters by the Snicket siblings and others, it seems likely that the cheesemakers were and remained VFD members.
âAs part of my work with the heroes of this ballad, I often have to deliver secret informationâ VFD referred to as heroic. (You can, of course, disagree with Lemony)
âI was far past crawling on the day in questionâ Less of a voluntary take but more of a factual note, as people often interpret that Lemony was recruited as an infant.
Now the quote: âMy mother asked the same question when she came home that fateful day and found waiting for her not three young children but one worried husband and two half-full cups of teaâ is concerning. But it should be considered in the context of a later section.
Regarding the lyrics âOne evening Jake was chopping wood/And his wife was at the millâ Snicket writes:
âThis is more or less accurate, much to my motherâs dismay, who always wished that she had delayed her investigation one more day, so she could have been at home that day to say goodbye. My brother insists that he was allowed to finish his tea before departureâ
So the Snicket parents were worries/dismayed, but not because they thought their children were kidnapped. They were already aware that their children were to be taken, and just wanted to be around when it happened. Given that his mother was investigating a mill and the Valorous Farms Dairy association mentioned above, it seems reasonable they were volunteers themselves.
Furthermore, Snicket notes he was able to visit his parents ârarelyâ, which may still be sinister to some people, but is hardly the often-implied total sequestering.
This exchange is small but important:
R: Râs right. We are entering peopleâs homes- J: We get permission first
And from Neroâs letter regarding Kâs recruitment of two children at Prufrock Prep:
âLike all orphans, the two kidnapped brats were so stupid that they didnât even look scared as Ms. K. carried them away. Their faces were very serious, as if they were embarking on an important mission of some kind.â
And finally, thereâs the recruitment script itself, which follows three steps:
âWhat was that noise?â âNothingâ
According to Snicket, the parents saying ânothingâ is already coded, as there is never nothing outside. So this already implies permission/engagement on the part of the parents. But even if the parents do not know about VFD, or the phrases happen by accident, it is much much less likely that anyone would completely by coincidence say the third phrase:
If thereâs nothing out there then what was that noise?
Which signals listening volunteers that itâs safe to act. (This is also why itâs significant that Lemony was not an infant at the time of recruitment. All VFD volunteers recruited this way make a conscious choice to consent to recruitment.
Now, of course, in the real world children canât legally consent or make binding contracts. But that gets into Doylist arguments, and this book series at a Doylist level is written for kids, so depicts children as full moral and intelligent agents who can make independent decisions.
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Once upon a time, @asoue-network held a charity raffle. Iâve owed @deweysdenouement a fic ever since. Well, here it is, two years later. Sorry about that, my love.
a recovery, an awakening, a love story
Frank Denouement/Jacques Snicket, Explicit, 12k.
Warnings for bloody injuries, an awkward courtship, graphic sexual content, and some self-indulgent quoting of classic literature Â
AO3 link, if you prefer that
(not beta read, so if you see glaring mistakes, no you didnât)
Frank only learns about Jacquesâ presence at the hotel when he goes over the dayâs paperwork long after dinner. Itâs mildly perplexing, discovering about it that way. Jacques doesnât usually show up unannounced, and certainly doesnât check in without letting Frank know he is here. The records state that Ernest was the one to greet him and assign him a room (070, meaning he is supposedly here in a journalistic capacity), but Ernest hasnât felt the need to let Frank know anything about it. Normally he would, if only to gauge Frankâs reaction to Jacquesâs unexpected appearance. The fact that he didnât? Frank is unsure about what that might mean.
 The information he gets from the records would be useless to most people, but the questions he can raise by virtue of his profession and VFD training are potentially concerning. Jacques checked in well after the 2PM rush (to avoid the crowds?), booked the room for two weeks (a suspiciously long time), and ordered breakfast for every morning, to be delivered to his room (why not eat at the breakfast buffet in one of the restaurants like he normally does?). The only note made on the breakfast request is âunsweetened black teaâ â at least that doesnât set off any alarm bells.
 It is probably too late to get answers now, most people are turning in for the night, but Frank still finds himself drifting down the hall to room 070, only to find the âDo Not Disturbâ sign hanging on the doorknob. If he were any one of his fellow volunteers, he would ignore that, but heâs not â heâs a hotel manager at the finest hotel in the City. Thereâs a sanctity to the âDo Not Disturbâ sign that he is not willing to breach, even though itâs Jacques, and even though he is slightly worried.
 He goes back to his office and resumes his work.
 ***
 Itâs not that he has forgotten about Jacques by the next day, itâs just that he has plenty of things to occupy him all morning and through to lunch. After the clock has struck twice, he automatically checks the housekeeping status report and discovers that room 070 is still marked as âDNDâ. Now that is... weird. Jacques loves fresh sheets and a clean space, details Frank made a note of years ago, so why would he turn away housekeeping?
 Frank tracks down a member of the staff that worked the ground floor, and all he gets out of her is that the breakfast tray was found outside the door of rom 070 at 9AM, missing only the tea. Nobody has seen the occupant in the flesh yet.
 He does not allow himself a frown, because housekeeping does not need to know he is bothered by this.
 The âDo Not Disturbâ sign is still in place at three, and at four, and at five, at which point Frank decides that his hourly pilgrimages to Jacquesâ room are getting absurd, so he stops.
 Dinner has come and gone by the time Ernest appears in their office, walking up to Frankâs desk and pausing there. Frank pointedly ignores him for a bit, on principle, but Ernest doesnât move. At around the 10 seconds mark, he clears his throat.
 âYes?â Frank asks with practiced detachment.
 âYou should go check on Jacques.â
 Frank tenses, although he keeps his eyes on the paperwork he has been working on. âWhy?â
 He hears Ernest sigh with barely hidden frustration before saying, âJust a bit of brotherly advice.â
 That gets Frankâs attention. He looks up, finding Ernestâs expression carefully neutral, which is... strange. âWhat do you know?â
 Ernest shrugs one shoulder. âNothing. Apart from the fact that he didnât look too good when he arrived. He was limping.â
 âAnd you didnât tell me this earlier because...?â
 His brother smiles wryly. âItâs none of my business what your side gets up to.â
 âIsnât it?â
 Ernestâs smile turns even more dry. âTouchĂŠ.â He sighs once more. âI just think you should break protocol this once, and go make sure he is okay,â he says, adding, âI know you want to.â
 âIt doesnât matter what I want,â Frank replies automatically.
 âOf course not. Fine, do whatever you like. But donât say I didnât try.â And with that he strolls over to his own desk, picks up a folder containing who knows what, and leaves.
 Frank waits exactly two minutes to get up and make his way to Jacquesâ room. Once he is there, he completely ignores the sign and knocks on the door, a series of determined raps that he is sure Jacques will recognize as his.
 He does.
 âGo away, Frank.â
 His voice sounds disturbingly shaky as he replies from within, and if Frank hadnât been worried before, he is now.
 He braces himself and replies. âNo.â
 He imagines Jacques rolling his eyes before he says, voice a bit harder, but still carrying from further in the room, âIâm fine.â
 Frank grinds his teeth for a moment, leaning closer to the door. âI donât think you are.â
 There is silence for a good minute, then Frank can hear shuffling inside the room, and seconds later the lock clicks. Jacques opens the door a couple of inches, enough for Frank to see his face, and croaks. âSee? Iâm fine.â
 He is most definitely not. He is pale as a sheet, forehead glistening with a light sheen of sweat, swaying on his feet, and most alarmingly, there is dried blood on his jaw.
 Frank must have looked appalled, because Jacques instantly goes to shut the door again, and he would have succeeded if Frankâs right foot hadnât moved on its own accord, jamming itself between the door and the doorframe. He pushes his shoulder against the door a bit too hard, causing Jacques to stumble backwards as it swings open.
 The room is lit only by a single bedside lamp, the curtains closed against the setting sun. Even so, Frankâs eyes donât take long to get used to the dim light once he enters, and as he takes in the space his stomach sinks. The sheets on the queen-sized bed are stained dark red in several places, so is the one of the armchairs, and the air smells strongly of blood and, confusingly, various kinds of alcohol.
 Jacques, having had to retreat once Frank forced his way inside, stands in the middle of the mess, looking equally annoyed and angered, which is impressive, considering the fact that he also looks close to collapsing. âFrank...â he begins, taking a small step towards him. âI donât need help.â The statement happens to come just as he puts his weight on his right leg, and it buckles under him.
 He would have fallen if Frank hadnât swooped forward and caught him. The position is awkward and his hold is precarious, Jacquesâ thin frame surprisingly heavy in Frankâs arms. It doesnât help that Jacques immediately starts struggling feebly to get back to his feet and away from him. He smells vaguely like the hotelâs soap, but mostly of sweat and gin. Frank holds on until he stops fighting, then he carefully leads them backwards until he can lower Jacques onto the edge of the bed.
 âShow me,â he demands.
 Jacques doesnât need further elaboration. He glares halfheartedly at Frank for a few moments, then he uses his left leg as leverage to lift his hips off the bed, shoving his pants down until they pool around his ankles.
 The bandage around his upper thigh is comprised of strips of the hotelâs sheets, torn by hand, and fresh blood is seeping through, a stark red against the white fabric. Â
 âThose were Egyptian cotton,â Frank says, because itâs the second thought that occurs to him, right after âfuckâ.
 Jacques snorts and then, seemingly surprised by his own reaction, lets out a genuine chuckle, strained as it may be. âApologies. I will pay for their replacement.â
 If he hadnât been the one to bring it up in the first place, Frank would have admonished him for the flippancy of that comment. âWhat happened?â
 âI got stabbed.â
 âBy who?â
 Jacques sighs. âIt doesnât matter.â
 âWhy are you here? Why arenât you back at headquarters?â
 Despite the blood loss, Jacquesâ cheeks manage to turn red. âItâs... complicated. This is the safest place I could think of, as things currently stand.â
 âYou need help,â Frank needlessly points out.
 Jacques gives him a level look. His eyes are glassy. âFine. Then youâll help me.â
 Frank glares at him in turn. âIâm not at all in a position to-...â
 âPlease, Frank.â
 That one was somewhat unexpected. Jacques has never directly requested his assistance before, not like this. Thereâs genuine emotion in the words too, close enough to pleading to make Frankâs throat tighten, and the rest of his protest dies before it is uttered. âAll right,â he says, voice sounding foreign to his own ears. âI need to see the wound. Get up, weâll move to the bathroom, the light is better.â
 âGet upâ might have been a really stupid demand to make of a man with a stab wound in the thigh, but Jacques complies nonetheless, waving Frank away and stubbornly limping into the bathroom while leaning on the wall.
 It proves to be an even bigger mess than the room. There are bloodstained towels on the floor and streaks of red on the sink and along the edge of the tub. Frank has no idea how any of this will be cleaned up without word spreading through the hotel of something terrible having happened in room 070. He supposes he will have to do it himself.
 Jacques sits down on the toilet and Frank kneels on the floor in front of him, hands going for the makeshift bandage, meticulously unwrapping it and peeling it away, trying to ignore the way Jacques hisses in pain when he does.
 Itâs not a terribly large wound, an inch and a half long maybe, no telling how deep, but it doesnât look good. The skin around it is bright red, it is still leaking blood, and most disturbingly, it has been stitched haphazardly closed by what looks like...
 âSewing thread?!â Frank asks, outraged.
 âYour complimentary sewing kits didnât contain anything better,â Jacques says, obviously aiming for âjokingâ, but unable to reach due to the discomfort in his voice.
 âHow the fuck did you manage to sew this shut with regular sewing thread?â
 âGin,â Jacques replies, âis a helpful painkiller. Just as vodka is a decent disinfectant.â
 Frank struggles to keep from lashing out at the sheer stupidity of Jacquesâ approach to first aid. âI donât suppose I need to ask if you emptied the minibar already.â
 âI did.â
 âAnd look what good it did you,â Frank says, gesturing at the wound. âItâs already infected.â
 Jacques frowns, leaning forward to peer at his thigh. âIt is?â
 Frank rolls his eyes. âDid you pay any attention during our very basic medical training?â
 Jacques has the decency to look embarrassed. âNot a lot.â
 Thereâs no point in getting angry, it wonât help, so Frank quashes the feeling. âWe need to open the wound again, clean it properly, stich it properly, bandage it properly, and get you some antibiotics.â
 âYou can fix all that?â Jacques asks.
 âYes,â Frank lies. âIâll be right back.â
 He doesnât exactly run back to the nearest supply room that contains a big first aid kit, because he never runs anywhere, but if anybody who knows him were to be watching, theyâd certainly describe it as ârushingâ.
 He is rummaging through the kit to determine its contents when he hears Ernestâs voice sounds out behind him, âIs it bad?â
 Frank does not jump in surprise. Itâs more like an involuntary jerk. Which is bad enough. He normally never, ever, lets Ernest sneak up on him like that.
 To his credit, Ernest doesnât comment on his reaction, nor does he look smug when Frank turns to scowl at him. As a matter of fact, he looks mildly concerned.
 Judging it sincere, Frank finds himself being mostly honest about the situation. âItâs... not entirely good.â He quickly adds, âI have it under control.â
 Ernest purses his lips. âRight. Well, let me know if you need help.â
 Frank frowns. âWhat is that supposed to mean?â
 His brother closes his eyes briefly, obviously stifling a heavy sigh. âIt means exactly what I said.â
 âWhy on earth would you care about whatâs going on with Jacques?â Frank asks.
 âI donât, not particularly. But you do.â
 Frank is about to object, even though any denial would be a flagrant lie, but Ernest holds up his hands in a placating gesture. âJust saying. If you need anything.â
 The first aid kit has paracetamol, but⌠âI need antibiotics,â Frank says, hating himself for asking. âAnd strong painkillers.â
 Ernest nods, a simple confirmation of Frankâs request, rather than the satisfied nod of someone who has just won the argument in a major way. âI will get some. Give me ten minutes.â
 Normal people would say âthank youâ at this point, but Frank is too careful, too deep in his natural cynicism, to make such a concession. Instead, he merely nods as well, and watches with some trepidation as Ernest turns on his heel and walks away.
 He returns to room 070 at a more sedate pace, finding to his relief that Jacques hasnât moved an inch. Frank shrugs out of his suit jacket, throws it onto the counter, puts on a pair of surgical gloves from the first aid kit, and is halfway through laying out implements on a clean piece of gauze on the edge of the bathtub when there is a brief knock on the door to the room. Every muscle in Jacquesâ body tenses in an instant, and he is looking as ready for a fight as a man in his state can be.
 âItâs okay,â Frank says. âItâs just Ernest.â
 Jacques looks outraged. âJust Ernest?â
 Frank barely glances up from his task. âWhile your unflinching loyalty to our organization is admirable, we need outside assistance in this case.â He figures that letting Jacques know about his own reservations regarding the acceptance of Ernestâs help wonât lead to Jacques feeling more at ease, so he makes sure to sound like this is perfectly normal and reasonable. âWait here.â
 He finds a tray on the floor outside the door, covered with a cloth napkin from the Indian restaurant. Ernest is nowhere to be seen, so Frank quickly picks up the tray, and kicks the door shut behind him, making sure to listen for the click of the lock.
 Jacques is looking very unhappy when he returns, but when Frank removes the napkin and reveals, among boxes of antibiotics, a phial of morphine, a syringe, and several hypodermic needles still in their plastic packaging, he seems to deflate a little. The prospect of pain relief obviously trumps his need to appear too noble to receive Ernestâs help.
 Frank remembers all too well how to administer morphine and in what quantities, and when he sees it working, sees Jacques automatically relaxing for the first time since Frank forced himself into the room, he feels a weight being lifted off his shoulders. It makes it easier to get to work - painstakingly cutting and pulling out Jacquesâ crudely made stiches, cleaning the wound, and then sewing it shut with actual medical thread. At no point does Jacques make even the slightest sound. By the time he is done, Frank is sweating, but he hasnât made a single mistake, as far as he can tell. The stitches are very, very neat, and the bleeding has stopped.
 âI think that will do.â
 âIt looks great,â Jacques agrees, voice thick.
 Frank snorts. âIt couldnât possibly look worse than it did when I started.â
 âHey!â Jacques protests. âHave you ever tried sewing up your own wound while drunk? Itâs not easy.â
 âWhich is why you should have asked for help to begin with,â Frank points out. He reaches for the disinfectant and cleans a large area around the wound, before covering it with a clean bandage, which he fastens with elastic gauze. âWe need to keep it clean and dry.â
 ââWeâ?â Jacques echoes.
 âIâm not trusting you with this,â Frank says plainly. âYouâve already proven yourself woefully unequipped to take care of yourself.â He picks up a bottle of antibiotics and reads the label. It is prescribed to Ernest, and the dosage is quite high. He pops the lid and gives Jacques a couple of pills, along with some paracetamol, then gets to his feet to grab a glass of water. His knees are aching, but he does his best to appear unaffected.
 Once Jacques has swallowed down his pills, Frank helps him to his feet as well. He still cannot put much weight on his leg, despite the morphine flowing through his veins, so he leans heavily on Frank as he guides him back into the hotel room proper. Unwilling to let him sleep in the mess he has made of the bed, Frank installs Jacques in one of the armchairs and goes to the nearest linen room out in the hall to find clean sheets.
 Frank isnât nearly as fast or as good at changing bedlinens as their housekeepers, but he manages in due time. When he turns back to Jacques, he finds the other man in the process of unbuttoning his shirt. Frank definitely does not stare at the pale skin being revealed, but he does note that Jacques is more muscular than he had imagined, which explains why he was so unexpectedly heavy to move around.
 âI donât suppose you could launder this discreetly?â Jacques asks, completely oblivious to Frankâs improper attention. Â
 Frank scrunches up his nose. âI can burn it, and the sheets, and get you something new.â
 Jacques sighs. âIf you insist. Hey, Frank?â
 âYeah?â
 âPlease donât tell anyone Iâm here.â
 He says it with such intensity, Frank is a little taken aback. âI have to tell our-â
 âPlease,â Jacques repeats. âJust... let me stay for a little bit without sharing my whereabouts with our superiors. Youâll do that for me, wonât you?â
 It makes no sense. Jacques is the most noble and loyal volunteer in their organization, he follows protocol like his life depends on it, why is he being so secretive right now? The only possible explanation is that he doesnât want their superiors to know he was hurt during whatever mission he was on. But why?
 âWhat about your siblings?â
 âNot them either.â
 More and more disturbing. âAre you going to tell me what happened?â
 âIâd rather not. Not yet.â He eyes the bed with no small amount of longing. âCan you-...â
 Deciding that Jacques has asked for help enough times for one day, Frank provides it with no further prompting. Once Jacques is back in bed, he starts gathering the bloody sheets into a pile, along with Jacquesâ ruined clothes. Then he cleans up in the bathroom, including a cursory wiping of the various surfaces. By the time he returns, Jacques has fallen asleep. Itâs a relief, seeing his face slack and free of pain, his naked chest rising and falling steadily, and Frank stands at the bed for several seconds before he realizes how creepy he is being, and goes to find a laundry cart to transport sheets and clothes down to the incinerator.
  ***
He has gotten rid of the incriminating evidence and made his way back to his office just before the midnight. He finds Ernest perched on the edge of his desk, delicately sipping a cup of tea. âWell?â
 Frank tilts his chin up. âYou donât care.â
 âObviously. Weâve already established that.â
 âIn that case, you wonât mind telling me everything you know.â
 âAh,â Ernest says, putting the cup down dangerously close to the paperwork Frank abandoned earlier. âThatâs not the same thing.â
 Frank makes a frustrated noise. âLook, Iâm not trying to make you compromise your position or whatever, I just need to know if heâs still in danger.â
 Ernest tilts his head. âOh. No, not as far as Iâm aware. It was an unfortunate confrontation that should never have happened, not a deliberate attempt at his life.â
 âAnd why did he not return to the mountains?â
 Ernestâs right eyebrow arches smoothly even as his neck straightens. âHe wouldnât tell you, huh?â
 âNo,â Frank grumbles. âDo you know?â
 âI donât. Truly. But Iâm sure youâve been thinking up theories in that clever head of yours.â
 The mockery that Frank would be able to ignore on any other day hits too hard in his current state, and he sneers, âFuck off, Ernest.â
 Ernest blinks, the expression on his face hardening as he squares his shoulders to appear larger, more imposing. âI guess gratitude is off the table.â
 He knows he should be thankful for Ernestâs help, despite still doubting his underlying motivations. But he is tired, and anxious, and completely unsure how to proceed. Heâs not used to going behind the VFDâs collective back, at least not with something as important as severe injury to a fellow volunteer. âIâm...â he trails off.
 âWe both know youâre not about to actually apologize, but I will pretend that you did,â Ernest says, relaxing his stance. âIf I may make a suggestion?â
 Frank waves a hand at him to signal his willingness to listen.
 âIf you want to keep him hidden, you need to talk to the staff first thing tomorrow morning. Do that glaring thing you do; theyâll keep quiet after that.â
 Frank does glare at him then, but Ernest only smiles. âYes, like that. But first things first.â He gives Frank a meaningful look. âYou need to strike his name from the records.â
 Thereâs something inherently insulting about the fact that Ernest thinks this will be a major hurdle for him, that his adherence to order and properly filled out paperwork will make it difficult for him to doctor some documents.
 ... Damn it, he is not entirely wrong. Itâs the principle of the thing. Itâs forgery. Hotel managers donât commit forgery.
 The clock choses that moment to strike midnight, the incessant chanting of Wrong! echoing through the lobby and into the office.
 Right.
 But he will damned if he lets Ernest know, so he circles the desk and finds the relevant sheet of paper. While Ernest loudly slurps his tea, Frank uses a black marker to strike out Jacquesâ name and all other information recorded.
 âThat wasnât so bad, was it?â Ernest teases. Before Frank has the opportunity to say something caustic, he adds, âOf course Dewey already has a copy of yesterdayâs check-in sheets. Although I doubt he ever reads them.â
 Frankâs jaw tightens while Ernest smiles serenely at him.
 âSo I guess you will have to let Dewey in on this little scheme of yours, unless you want to go down there and riffle through his records in the dead of night.â
 He knows Frank would never do that, no matter how much he hates the idea of expanding the circle of people who know about this whole mess of a situation.
 âIâm sure Dewey will be understanding of your predicament,â Ernest concludes. âHeâs soft-hearted, after all.â
 That he is, but that doesnât mean it will be easy to make convince him that this is the right thing to do. Frank rubs briefly at his left temple, where a headache is starting to take hold, then nods. âHeâll still be up.â
 âProbably,â Ernest agrees and finished his tea in one long sip, before saying, âYou might want to change your shirt first though. The cuffs are bloody.â
 Frank curses under his breath when he confirms that they are indeed both stained with Jacquesâ blood. How did he not notice this earlier? What is someone had seen him and noticed, a staff member, or God forbid, a guest? There would have been no way to keep that under wraps, a manager walking around with bloodstained clothes. What an incredibly basic mistake to make. He unbuttons each cuff and shoves them far enough up his arms for the jacket to cover them, preparing to leave without giving Ernest additional time to be clever.
 âGood luck,â Ernest chirps. âSee you in the morning.â
 He already told him to fuck off once, so Frank settles on rolling his eyes and stalking down the hall to his room and a clean change of clothes.
  ***
  Dewey is still awake, as they had expected, sitting by one of the many desks placed throughout the library and making notes in the margin of a page containing what looks to be a mission log. Similar pages are spread out all across the surface of the desk, some with notes, some without. When Frank draws near, Deweyâs head jerks up. He looks momentarily startled, but then itâs gone, replaced by pleasant surprise.
 âFrank,â he says. âWhat are you doing here at this hour?â
 âI have a favor to ask,â Frank replies, because he sees no need to beat around the bush. âI need to make corrections to your copy of yesterdayâs check-in sheet. Would you mind telling me where I can find it?â
 Dewey frowns ever so slightly. âWhy would you need to do that? Did someone make a mistake?â
 âNot as such,â Frank says. He pauses, wondering how best to put it, and settling for honesty. âJacques Snicket checked in yesterday. I need to make it look like he didnât.â
 That gets Deweyâs undivided attention. âJacques is here?â
 âYes.â
 âAnd why donât you want the records to show that?â
 âBecause he asked me to keep it secret.â
 The weight of Deweyâs gaze is growing uncomfortably heavy. âWhy?â
 Frank wishes he had a better explanation, but he is left with the truth. âI donât know. He wouldnât tell me.â
 Deweyâs frown deepens. âIsnât that a bit... suspicious?â
 âItâs very suspicious,â Frank agrees. âBut itâs what he wants.â
 For a brief second, he is actually unsure what Dewey will say, what with his severe expression and his hands coming to fold together in front of him on the desk, like their disapproving headmaster from their time at school. But then his shoulders slump a little and he says, âAll right. Iâll fix it for you.â
Frank lets out a breath that he hadnât realized he was quietly holding. âThank you.â
 Dewey waves a hand dismissively. âI trust you. And you seem to trust Jacques.â
 Itâs difficult to say whether he does or not, but his actions sure point in that direction. âIâm sure thereâs a⌠reasonable explanation.â
 âIâm sure there is,â Dewey agrees.
 Frank is already in the elevator when he realizes that he never told Dewey that Jacques is injured. That fact would surely have changed the course of the conversation, and Dewey is sure to find out somehow. He will be upset that Frank left out that considerable detail. He probably wonât go back on his word to keep Jacquesâ presence at the hotel a secret, but their relationship will be strained for a while. Is Jacques worth that?
 Yes, Frank decides. He is.
  ***
 He is in the middle of cleaning the blood stains out of one of the chairs in the room when he hears Jacques stir on the bed. He keeps his focus on the sullied cotton upholstery while Jacques gets his bearings, eventually noticing him.
 âFrank.â
 He hums in confirmation, and pours more rubbing alcohol on a clean cloth, the fifth one he has used today.
 âWhat time is it?â Jacques asks. His voice is thick with sleep, and, more concerning, pain.
 âA bit past nine.â Frank puts the cloth down in the pile of already used ones and gets to his feet. âI decided to let you sleep. Iâm afraid your tea has gotten cold in the meantime.â
 Jacques doesnât look terribly upset by that. He does however look pretty unwell, now that Frank takes a closer look at him instead of the bloody furniture. âI donât feel good,â he confesses, just as Frank takes a step towards him.
 âYou wouldnât,â Frank says. He stops by edge of the bed and touches the back of his hand to Jacques´ forehead. He isnât burning up, but he definitely has a fever. Frank tries his best not to look worried. âHold on.â
 Another dose of morphine, another dose of antibiotics, another dose of paracetamol. âIâll get you some fresh tea,â he says, propping Jacques up with all the pillows on the bed. âAnd some food. Taking these on an empty stomach isnât ideal.â
 âSure,â Jacques agrees, but his eyes are noticeably unfocused, so Frank guesses that he would have agreed to almost anything.
 Getting some black tea into him proves easy enough, although Frank is forced to insist on the assortment of fruit he had housekeeping bring to the room being eaten as well. He knows morphine makes you nauseous, but Jacques needs to eat something to keep his body going.
 âI never figured you would be such a strict nurse,â Jacques quips while swallowing down a raspberry. The humor is somewhat offset by the way he slurs his words.
 âYouâre awfully chipper for a man who would be dying from a simple stab wound if it werenât for me,â Frank replies drily.
 Jacques snorts. âI would have made it.â
 âYes, do keep telling yourself that.â
 Thereâs a sudden severity to Jacquesâ face when he says, âIâm not ungrateful.â
 Torn between âI didnât think you wereâ and âbut you sound like it right nowâ, Frank settles on a neutral, âI know.â
 He waits until Jacques has dozed off again to resume his work on getting blood out of the chair.
 ***
 Frank decides that thereâs something inherently troubling about his desire to stay in the room at all times, even while Jacques sleeps. Itâs just that... well, he doesnât like the idea of Jacques waking up alone and in pain, with no one to help him.
 Still, he forces himself to leave and perform his professional duties around the hotel, although he realizes that he is underperforming in a big way. He is distracted, and objectively, he understands why.
 When he discovers by the end of the night that Ernest has been doing his standard paperwork for him, he is simultaneously annoyed and relieved. But as infuriating his brotherâs interference is, it still means he is able to return to check on Jacques by the end of the night, and for that he is, however grudgingly, grateful. Not that he will ever admit this. It is just that, well, Jacques really needs a bath.
  ***
 âI can bathe myself.â
 Frank raises an eyebrow, quietly encouraging Jacques to try it.
 He does, and he makes is to his feet and two steps towards the bathroom before he starts swaying. Frank wordlessly closes the distance between them, catching Jacques around the waist before he topples over.
 âThat was on purpose,â Jacques claims.
 âWhy on earth would you almost fall over on purpose?â Frank asks sardonically, draping Jacquesâ arm over his shoulders and leading him across the room.
 âMaybe I like it when you hold me close,â Jacques says easily, the words themselves markedly more flirtatious than his actual tone.
 Nonetheless, Frank almost drops him.
 Jacques chuckles at the reaction. âIâm just messing with you.â
 âObviously,â Frank agrees, willing himself to not do or say anything else as they make it to the bathroom. He lowers Jacques down to the edge of the tub, shrugs out of his jacket, rolls up his sleeves, and then turns on the faucet. He holds his wrist under the spray, checking the temperature, and then adds some of the mild soap he brought along. He feels Jacquesâ eyes on him the entire time, but pointedly ignores him, just like he ignores the fact that Jacques is mostly naked, and Frank is very close to him. He is a trained volunteer, he reminds himself, as he kneels in front of Jacques and removes his bandage.
 The wound looks better. Itâs still red around the edges, the surrounding flesh a bit swollen, but there are no visible signs of infection so severe that the antibiotics heâs on wonât take care of it.
 âWhatâs the verdict, doctor?â Jacques asks playfully.
 Frank ignores the joking attitude. âYouâll be fine. Eventually.â
 He can sense Jacques smiling at him, even as he deliberately keeps his eyes on his wounded thigh. Jacques has nice thighs, he notes for the first time, and immediately feels bad for unintentionally making such a lewd observation about a wounded colleague. The tub is full by now and he turns to water off, happy to have something to do with his hands.
 âI can handle it from here,â Jacques assures him, and starts wiggling out of his underwear.
 Frank, suddenly finding himself awfully close to Jacquesâ soon-to-be exposed genitals, gets back to his feet a bit too quickly and almost loses his balance. There are two ways to read that reaction, he realizes, rampant homophobia or... whatever he is currently feeling. Cautious attraction?
 Jacques obviously decides on the second explanation, because he smirks slightly. Pumped up on painkillers and still perceptive as hell, it would be almost impressive if it wasnât so infuriating.
 Frank has to resist the urge to help him into the tub as he watches Jacques struggle awkwardly to do it himself, but Jacques did insist he could to do it. And he does manage, it just takes a couple of seconds where he precariously balances on his good leg as he lifts the bad one over the edge, something that obviously causes him discomfort. When he finally lowers himself into the water, he lets out a long, relieved groan, and Frank has to consciously stop himself from imagining other situations where Jacques might make a sound like that.
 Jacques has closed his eyes and arched his head back to rest it on the edge of the tub. Frank tries not to stare at his exposed throat, still smooth, despite a light stubble starting to form on his jaw - he will have to bring him a shaving kit tomorrow. After a few seconds, Jacques cracks open one eye and gives Frank a small smile. âCan you change the sheets, by any chance?â
 Taking the opportunity to flee with his dignity kind of intact, Frank leaves the bathroom immediately and starts to do just that. Keeping Jacquesâ bed clean is obviously vital to his continued improvement, he tells himself, and makes a deliberate effort to block out the sound of splashing water as Jacques washes in the other room. Cleanliness during healing, they were all taught, is paramount, which is also why he also brought a clean night-shirt and soft pants for Jacques to wear. Frank hopes to avoid a comment on how he has been watching Jacques close enough to gauge his clothes size.
 âFrank?â
 He tears himself away from his inner fretting. âYes?â
 âI... might need some help getting out.â
 That is no doubt true. But it also means Frank has to handle a wet, naked Jacques. God, he is being pathetic, he decides, and strolls into the bathroom with all the confidence as he can muster.
 Jacques is already sitting up in the tub when Frank enters the bathroom, and he has got a weirdly devious look on his face, like this is part of an elaborate scheme that is coming to fruition just as he has planned it. He holds up a hand.
 Frank decides that the best approach will have to be professional indifference, so he grabs Jacquesâ hand and pulls carefully, staring intently at the other manâs face and nowhere else as he manages to get up, with Frankâs help. Jacques takes a couple of seconds to simply stand still, and Frankâs urge to look down and see the glistening, soapy water slide down his body is almost too overwhelming. âAlmostâ being to key word. His eyes remain fixed on Jacquesâ face, allowing him to take in the shift from what appears to be slight frustration to a small smile. Heâs impressed, despite it all. If Frank didnât know any better, heâd... no. Better not think like that.
 He turns and picks up a towel, handing it to Jacques. âI left you something to wear on the bed. Iâll see you in the morning.â
 Now thereâs definite disappointment in Jacquesâ eyes. âAh. Well, yes. Goodnight, Frank. And thank you.â
 ***
 A couple of days of healthy doses of various prescription drugs, and Jacques starts to get better, slowly but surely. And as his physical condition improves, his general mood starts souring. Itâs clear that he isnât used to be confined to a single room, much less bedrest. Frank brings him books from the library, all of which he reads through at a truly astounding pace. If he could, he would probably be pacing the room like a caged animal, but he is at least smart enough to stay off his feet for a bit longer. At least Frank hasnât caught him randomly walking around yet, and he has taken to simply knocking and then entering without waiting for a response, so he has had every opportunity to catch Jacques doing something that will compromise his recovery.
 Itâs not that Jacques bitches at him, his frustration isnât so much aimed at Frank as it is aimed at the universe in general. But he has toned down the flirtatious comments, and although Frank did find them troubling at times (what with Jacques obviously being in a compromised state due to the amount of morphine he was on), he finds that he sort of misses it.
 Jacques seems at his best when Frank stops by with food, and lingers while he eats, the two of them chatting about whatever Jacques has been reading. Most of the time Frank canât even remember what the book was about, he doesnât read much for pleasure these days, but listening to Jacques launch into a long analysis of character motivations or themes is strangely reassuring.
 He seems at his worst when Frank ultimately leaves him, and Frank hates that he doesnât have a choice.
 Because there is still a hotel to run, and the paperwork he usually handles has been piling up. He knows Ernest has been working overtime to attempt to keep everything running smoothly, but Frankâs absence is being felt. Hell, Dewey has been filling in for him a few times, until Frank found out and promptly told him to go back to doing his own, equally important work. Well, almost as important. Making sure their staff gets paid is pretty damn important as well, so tonight Frank is focusing on that, while Ernest drinks tea and goes over the notes from the conciergeâs desk.
 Obviously, when Ernest is involved, the silence doesnât last. âI donât suppose you have a plan for if another journalist shows up,â his brother says with practiced neutrality.
 Frank doesnât look up from his work. âMeaning?â
 âWell, room 070 is empty, according to our records.â
 âIâm sure we can find some other room for any potential journalists that may come along,â he says, dotting an i and crossing a t. âDepending on their country of origin.â
 Ernest makes a sound that could mean anything from âgood pointâ to âyouâre an idiotâ and after a long pause, asks âHow is he doing?â
 Frank briefly stops writing. âBetter.â
 âThatâs a relief,â Ernest says.
 Frank looks up at him for the first time during their conversation. âWhy do you ask?â
 Ernest smiles lopsidedly. âHis improved physical health ought to lead to your improved mental health. And some freeing up of your time. Itâs tedious, you know, having to do the work for the both of us, because youâre either busy playing nurse, or too cranky to be handling guests.â He pauses, just long enough for Frank to think he is done, but he is not that lucky. âWhy are you cranky, by the way? If he is getting better?â
 âIâm not cranky.â
 Ernest heaves a sigh. âRight. Okay. Agitated then.â
 Frank debates whether to tell him, whether Jacques would prefer him to keep everything about his current condition a secret, not just when it comes to the VFD, but Frankâs brothers as well. He settles on being vague. âHe is growing a bit... irritable.â
 âYes, well, being cooped up like that would frustrate most people, especially if theyâre used to running free, like a cow in a meadow.â
 Frank gives Ernest a dubious look. âThatâs a very weird simile.â
 âIs it?â Ernest asks. Heâs smiling like he knows something Frank does not. âI thought it was fitting.â
 Deciding that he prefers not to know, Frank turns his attention back to writing out paychecks, ignoring the way he can clearly sense Ernestâs disappointment at being ignored when he so clearly has a story to tell. Eventually Ernest mutters something inaudible under his breath and returns his attention to his own work.
 Frank makes a mental note to ask Dewey if he knows what Jacques has in common with a cow, because he is definitely not going to ask Jacques directly.
 He gets exactly 18 minutes of peace and quiet before Ernest asks, âHow about you just spend more time with him then? If heâs that bored.â
 Frank looks at his brother, incredulous. âAnd who is supposed to take over my duties in the meantime?â
 Ernest lifts his chin. Heâs offended, that much is clear. âI think Dewey and I can manage for a bit.â
 âDewey should not-â
 âYouâve misspelled Anne Levyâs name on her paycheck,â Ernest interrupts. âItâs Anne with an E, and Levy with a Y.â
 Frank glances down. He has indeed made out the check to âAnn Leviâ.
 âIâm sure a bank teller who knows her will overlook it, but what if itâs someone new? She might not be getting paid on time, what if she has to pay rent on time, what if-...â
 âYes, youâve made your point,â Frank says through clenched teeth.
 âGreat,â Ernest replies, strolling over to the door and opening it. âHeâs agreeing.â
 Dewey slips inside with his usual grace. âThank goodness.â
 Frank scowls at them. They know how much he hates all three of them being in the same place, especially somewhere were anyone could walk in and ruin the illusion theyâve worked so hard to maintain. âYou shouldnât-âŚâ
 Ernest cuts him off again. âDewey, you know how to spell, right?â
 Dewey snorts, amused. âObviously?â
 âWell then,â Ernest says, clasping his hands behind his back. âI do believe thereâs work to be done.â
 Frank closes his eyes and counts to ten. When he opens them again, Dewey is looking at him expectantly. Itâs clear that heâs after more than just the desk.
 âI, uh... should have told you immediately. About Jacquesâ... condition.â
 âYou should have,â Dewey agrees. âKind of an asshole move to leave out a detail like that.â
 Frank doesnât like it when Dewey calls him an asshole. Ernest, sure, he does it a lot, but Dewey? It stings when itâs coming from him.
 His discomfort must have shown on his face, because Deweyâs expression softens. âItâs fine. Weâre fine.â
 Frank nods. âThank you.â
 Dewey reaches inside his suit jacket and pulls out a slim book from his inner pocket. âHere, you can drop this off with Jacques. I do believe itâs one of his favorites.â
 Frank accepts the book. Maurice, by E.M. Forster. He has a vague recollection of what itâs about, despite never having read it. âIâll make sure he gets it.â
 Itâs utterly embarrassing, being unceremoniously shooed out of his own chair, but he isnât being given much of a choice. By the time he has reached the door, Dewey has already taken over his desk and is starting to rearrange papers and files to his liking, which is enough to make Frank twitch. His system and Deweyâs system are very, very different.
 âWe will take it from here,â Dewey says, picking up Frankâs pen. âSee you later.â
 Frank leaves, grumbling curses under his breath.
 ***
 Come mid-morning, Jacques has finished the book. He is sitting on the edge of the bed, waving it around, open somewhere in the middle, animatedly talking while Frank kneels in front of him, changing his bandage.
 âSo you see, itâs not just about self-realization, growth, and coming to terms with your sexuality and place in the world. Sure, itâs a story of an emotional and sexual awakening, but thereâs so many layers. Itâs also about class, how the rigid structures of Edwardian society forced you to hide your innermost truths to fit in. Mauriceâs privileged position in the world is what is holding him back to begin with, even if he isnât as high class as Clive.â
 âHis Cambridge friend,â Frank says, mostly as a reminder to himself. Jacquesâ wound is looking much better, which is honestly his main concern in this moment.
 âYes. Clive, who by the way is living in a manor house that is literally falling apart, clings to his family lineage, and the status that comes with it, even though it means denying who he is and refusing Mauriceâs love again and again. The leaking roof is such a good metaphor.â
 Frank makes a noncommittal sound. Heâs sure it is.
 âThe freedom Maurice finds when heâs with Alec, repeatedly symbolized by the greenwood, is so profound. Here is this simple groundskeeper, and heâs able to live and love in a way that Maurice never thought possible. The way he can be himself with Alec.â His tone changes as he shifts to what must be a quote, ââI have shared with Alec. All I have.ââ He sighs, almost dreamily. âItâs just so incredibly beautiful.â
 âI donât doubt it,â Frank says. He fastens the new bandage.
 âDid you know this book is where the line âI am an unspeakable of the Oscar Wilde sortâ comes from?â Jacques asks.
 âI did not.â
 âYou should read it,â Jacques insists. âItâs exceptional.â
 He must know that Frank rarely, if ever, has the time to read books, anything else would take an uncharacteristic level of ignorance. Still, Frank shrugs. âSure.â
 Jacques sighs. âOkay, just listen to this one quote then.â He flips through the pages to a point right by the end. âAt the end, Maurice has decided to be with Alec, and heâs confronting Clive about it. Clive is disgusted and Maurice tells him;â Jacquesâ voice takes on a serious edge as he starts reading, ââYou do care a little for me, I know... but nothing to speak of, and you don't love me. I was yours once till death if you'd cared to keep me, but I'm someone else's now... and he's mine in a way that shocks you, but why don't you stop being shocked, and attend to your own happiness.ââ He snaps the book shut dramatically.
 Frank looks up at Jacques, who is clearly waiting for a reaction. âThatâs beautifully written,â Frank concedes. âVery powerful.â
 Jacquesâ face breaks into a smile. âIsnât it just?â When Frank gets to his feet, he hands him the book. âFor when you have the time.â
 Deciding to indulge him, Frank accepts the book. âWhat would you like for lunch?â
 ***
 Itâs unclear whether Jacques has noticed that Frank is spending more time with him, at least he hasnât commented on it. His mood has brightened considerably though, which is reassuring. Frank finds that he likes it a lot, too.
 Baths come and go. The bandage is changed. Food is eaten and tea drunk, all while talking about whatever they fancy that day. Frank lingers for at least an hour after every meal by now. The subtle flirting comes in waves, but when Frank doesnât respond outright, it subsides again. The routine becomes one that Frank is quite happy with.
 Jacques has been at the hotel for ten days when it all comes to a head anyway. He is practicing walking back and forth across the floor, with Frank provides a steadying hand, when he suddenly stops and turns to face him. âCan I ask you something?â
 Frank frowns. âYes?â
 âAre you attracted to me?â
 It takes all the willpower earned from half a lifetime of working in customer service for Frank to not react by sputtering denials and excuses. Instead his voice is perfectly neutral when he counters the question with âWhy do you ask?â
 Jacques groans dramatically and carefully walks over to sit on the edge of his bed. âI realize that Iâve been a nuisance in several different ways and â noâ he says sharply as Frank moves to object. âI have. And I was too forward in the beginning. I would blame the drugs, but that would be a lie.â He looks up at Frank with an intensity that cannot be ignored. âI need you to either tell me to fuck off, or fuck me. Please.â
 Frank stares at him, painfully away that his face is definitely doing... something. And whatever it is, itâs not making Jacques back off.
 âI apologize for my bluntness, I am well aware that you treasure your sense of self-control, and thatâs why you havenât done anything, but I really canât take it anymore.â
 Thereâs something almost comforting about the bluntness he is apologizing for right now, at least to Frank. No more games, no more double entendres, just a simple question to be answered with a simple yes or no. Now the only problem is that saying ânoâ would be lying, while saying âyesâ would change everything. And Frank doesnât like change, he likes steady, predictable normality.
 Which is why itâs very surprising to him that the word âyesâ comes out of his mouth quite automatically.
 Jacques looks equally taken aback. âYes? As in, yes?â
 Heâs losing control of everything; of his emotions, of his facial expression, of his actions (because damn it all heâs drifting nearer to the bed without meaning to). âI donât want toââ He pauses, rephrasing it, âI wonât take advantage of this situation. Itâs not right.â
 Jacques stares up at him. âAre you being serious right now? Like, properly serious?â
 Unsure what reaction is most agreeable, Frank just nods.
 He didnât expect Jacques to laugh at him. As a matter of fact, he is so surprised by the sound that it startles him into moving closer still, a certain measure of concern in his voice when he asks, âJacques?â
 âSorry,â Jacques managed, stifling a further string of giggles in the palm of his hand. âI didnât mean to. Youâre so... proper. Itâs simultaneously flattering, insulting, and hilarious.â
 Frank canât help but scowl at him. âBeing proper is not a character flaw.â
 Jacquesâ snickering trails off, but a wry smile remains. âNo, youâre right. I like that youâre like that. Most of the time.â
 âMost of the time?â Frank asks.
 âRight now, I kinda wish youâd throw caution to the wind, to be honest.â
 Itâs tempting. Too tempting it seems, because Frank finds himself closing the distance between them. Jacques shifts his knees apart and Frank comes to a halt between them. A lesser man might have given him a seductive look then, from this angle it would be very effective to look up at him coquettishly, fluttering eyelashes and whatnot, but Jacques simply looks up at him expectantly. Frank swallows, although his mouth feels too dry already. âOkay.â
 The smile Jacques gives him is dazzling. âOkay?â He places a hand on Frankâs abdomen, the pressure of his touch intense even though three layers of fabric.
 Frank nods and leans down.
 Jacques surges up to meet him, pressing their lips together in a kiss that somehow manages to be simultaneously too much and not nearly enough. Jacques lets out a breathy sound, and Frankâs insides clench in response. The angle is awkward, but before Frank has a chance to ponder how to fix that, Jacques has acted, seizing his tie and tugging firmly while leaning backwards until heâs lying down. Frank almost topples over in his attempt to follow, bracing himself with a knee on the edge of the bed and his hands one either side of Jacquesâs head. He blinks, trying to regain his equilibrium, but Jacques doesnât let him, pulling on his tie again, expectantly.
 It's easy, surprisingly easy even, to let himself be lead, to kiss Jacques again, deeper this time, harder. Jacques sighs happily against Frankâs mouth, gasping when Frank sucks hard on his bottom lip. He wiggles further back on the bed and Frank follows again, not breaking the kiss. Jacquesâ tongue is as clever in this situation as it is when heâs talking, itâs very distracting. He pulls Frank closer with impatient hands, and Frank obeys, lying down on top of the other man while still being mindful of his injured leg. One of them has to be, and Jacques is obviously too focused on kissing and pawing at Frankâs clothes to pay it any mind.
 Undressing while kissing is hard enough, and when you add their position, itâs actually impossible. Jacques obviously comes to the same conclusion, pushing Frank back up into a sitting position, straddling Jacquesâs good leg. âI need-â
 âYes.â
 They work together as well as they can. Jacques has Frankâs suit jacket unbuttoned in seconds, then turns to his vest while Frank shrugs the jacket off. Jacques finally pulls Frankâs shirt free of his pants and simply shoves his hand up under it, evidently desperate to just touch. Frank chuckles, making a point of slowly loosening his tie before pulling it off. Jacques digs his nails into his side and Frank inhales sharply. âEasy.â
 Jacques shakes his head. âNo way.â
 Getting the distinct impression that his shirt is about to be torn open if he isnât careful - and being pretty fond of it - Frank unbuttons it as quickly as he can, acutely aware of Jacquesâ eyes on him. Any potential self-consciousness is thoroughly alleviated by the heat in Jacquesâ gaze, the way he seems to be mapping every inch of Frankâs chest as more skin is exposed. Itâs only fair, he supposes. After all, he has seen Jacques naked several times the last ten days, even if the context was very different. He hadnât realized how different until Jacques sits up and takes off his thin t-shirt. His skin is flushed in a way Frank hasnât seen before, his stomach muscles tightening as he leans back on his elbows, smiling coyly as Frank pauses to take him in. Yeah, definitely different.
 Part of him wants to get up and put his clothes away like a civilized person, but Jacques reaches for him, fingers curling around the back of his neck and pulling him down into another kiss. Itâs more even heated than the last ones, wet and desperate, Jacquesâ making the most appealing noises as Frank caresses his chest, little moans and shuddering sighs. It really shouldnât come as a surprise to him when Jacques unceremoniously slides his hand down between them to palm Frankâs crotch, but he still startles.
 Jacques hesitates, breaking their kiss. âIs this all right?â he asks.
 Frank wants to roll his eyes, but itâs a valid question, his reaction considered. âYes, itâs very all right.â
 Jacques gives him a grin and squeezes. Frank lets out an unbidden noise, hips pressing downwards automatically, rolling along with the steady pressure of Jacquesâ hand on his cock, which is moving with confidence. Frankâs sense of control is fraying at the edges, his breathing getting quicker and more shallow as Jacques touches him. He drops down to his elbows, trying to regain focus by kissing Jacquesâ neck, but it soon turns to simply panting against his skin. He dimly registers Jacquesâ erection pressing against his thigh, a slight rocking of his hips. Heâs going to come in his pants like a goddamn teenager if this doesnât stop, and yet he canât gather his wits together long enough to do anything about it. Lucky for his pride, Jacques suddenly lets go and saves him the embarrassment. Not that his frustrated growl expresses any gratitude, far from it, but it does make Jacques chuckle. Â
 âNow whoâs impatient?â
 Frank pulls back and glares at him, still trying to catch his breath, but Jacques is frustratingly unbothered. As a matter of fact, he looks exceptionally pleased with himself as he reaches for Frankâs belt, unbuckling it easily without breaking eye-contact. âI like it,â he assures him. âProves that youâre human.â
 He does roll his eyes this time. âWhat does that even mean?â
 âIt means you try your hardest not to be a lot of the time, to hide it all away beneath layers upon layers of professionalism and pride and emotional detachment, and I like knowing that I can-...â he pauses, shrugs. âBreak through the façade, I guess.â
 Frank doesnât know what to say to that. Heâs not used to being psychoanalyzed while half-naked, in bed with someone he is suddenly acutely aware cares for him more than Frank had dared to imagine. He opens his mouth to reply â something potentially mood-ruining no doubt - but Jacques presses a finger to his lips, urging him to stop. âNo. Letâs just... save that for later, all right?â
 Seeing as he is unable to come up with a response anyway, Frank nods in silent agreement.
 Jacques smiles softly, reaching up to cradle Frankâs jaw, languidly trailing his thumb along his bottom lip. Itâs so tender that for a moment it makes Frank want to get up and flee. Itâs a relief when Jacques breaks eye contact, looking down at Frankâs mouth instead. A wordless request. Frank can do that.
 The kiss that follows is more gentle at first, deepening by slow increments. Jacquesâ hands seem to be everywhere, trailing up and down Frankâs back one moment, tugging at his hair the next. Frank can feel his skin tingling everywhere Jacques touches him, even though he knows thatâs irrational.
 Jacques turns his head slightly to speak. âI would like you to take your pants off now.â
 Frank has no objections to that idea. He carefully gets to his feet and push his trousers off his hips along with his underwear. He does feel slightly self-conscious now, with Jacques eyes roaming hungrily over his naked body.
 âYouâre fucking gorgeous,â Jacques breathes, reaching for the edge of his own comfortable sleep pants and managing to shove them down with some difficulty. He isnât wearing any underwear. Which is pretty damn presumptuous of him, Frank thinks, but heâll let it slide this once. Which has nothing to do with how good he looks, finally naked, skin flushed and cock fully hard. Totally unrelated.
 While Frank gets his socks off, Jacques shuffles backwards until he can rest his head on the pillows. He stretches, obviously doing what he can to show off the attractive litheness of his body. Frank must be visibly affected by the sight, because Jacques looks very pleased with himself as he holds out his hand, beckoning.
 Frank complies.
 They kiss for a while, Frank still being constantly mindful of Jacquesâ bad leg even as he lies partially on top of him, body thrumming with pleasure at the skin-to-skin contact. Jacques is starting to tremble, fingers digging into Frankâs hips and angling him until their cocks are sliding against each other with every rock of their bodies. It feels good, but itâs not enough. Frank moves, getting to his hands and knees, kissing along Jacquesâ jaw, then down his neck, the center of his chest. Jacques squirms, breathing quickening as Frank settles between his legs.
 It's been a while since he last gave a blowjob, Frank realizes as he strokes Jacquesâ cock a couple of times before taking the head into his mouth. Itâs not something you forget though, judging from the sound Jacques makes as Frank takes him deep. He tastes nice, Frank concludes as pre-come coats his tongue. He overestimates his skills then, gagging slightly as he tries to fit more in his mouth.
 âCareful,â Jacques says as Frank pulls off to cough.
 âIâm fine,â Frank says, to which Jacques only hums.
 He gets back to the task at hand, being more careful not to get too overconfident again. Jacquesâ hand comes to rest on the back of his head, not pressing or guiding, just touching lightly as he moans deep in his chest. It sends a thrill through Frank, knowing heâs capable of bringing Jacques this kind of pleasure. He finds himself cataloging every reaction, the way Jacquesâ breath hitches when he presses the flat of his tongue against the underside of his cock, the way his moans get more desperate when Frank sucks harder after simply letting Jacquesâ cock slide in and out of his mouth for a bit.
 It's his sharp focus on these sounds that makes him pick up on the sudden hiss of pain immediately. He pulls away. âAre you okay?â
 âYes, itâs just the fucking-â he gestures at his leg. âI moved wrong.â
 Frank notices how much Jacquesâ thighs are trembling then. âYou need to relax.â
 Jacques lets out a bark of laughter. âHow the fuck am I supposed to relax when youâre sucking my brain out through my dick?â
 Frank can feel his cheeks burning at the crude compliment. âTry harder.â
 Jacques chuckles weakly. âFine.â He exhales, muscles relaxing a fraction, then completely after a few more breaths-
 âGood,â Frank says. He runs his fingertips up Jacquesâ thighs. âVery good.â
 Itâs Jacquesâ turn to blush, and Frank definitely makes a note of that before he lowers his head to suck Jacquesâ cock into his mouth once more. He decides to help with the plan, keeping a more sedate pace this time, hoping for a slower build. It works, Jacques practically melting into the mattress, whimpering faintly at times but not straining. Frank allows his mind to go pleasantly blank for a bit. His jaw is starting to ache, but he doesnât mind. As a matter of fact, itâs quite a pleasant sensation. Makes him feel used somehow, but in a good way.
 Jacquesâ is panting now, and Frank can taste more pre-come leaking from him. Itâs making his mouth water automatically, saliva running down the length of Jacquesâ cock. The sound of his steady sucking grow wetter, more slurping, until itâs damn-near obscene to listen to.
 He likes that too.
 It doesnât take long after that. Jacquesâ breathing is heavy and uneven, as he fights the urge to strain, thrust up, anything. Frank grabs his hip, anchoring him.
 âFuck,â Jacques gasps. âIâm gonna-...â
 Frank makes as much of an affirmative noise as he can with a dick in his mouth, which seems to be all Jacques needed. He comes seconds later, his seed flooding Frankâs mouth, and the rush of endorphins running through his body must cancel out whatever pain he might feel as every muscle goes taunt, because his moans are thoroughly pleased.
 He had managed to forget how to swallow without making a mess, but Frank is nothing if not meticulous. He licks Jacquesâ cock clean while the other man tries to get his breathing under control, finally sitting back onto his heels and using his thumb to catch a stray drop on his chin, licking it off.
 Jacques watches him, transfixed. âFucking hell, Frank.â
 Frank shrugs, feeling simultaneously accomplished and a little exposed.
 As if sensing his sudden awkwardness, Jacques sits out and seizes his wrist, pulling him down towards him. He kisses Frank deeply, as if heâs trying to lick every trace of his sperm from Frankâs tongue. Frank is distracted enough that he only notices Jacques has reached down between them when his fingers wrap around Frankâs cock. He gasps, clutching at the sheets on either side of Jacquesâs head. He hadnât even noticed how hard he still is.
 âI wish I could ride you right now,â Jacques murmurs. He twists his wrist, tightening his grip.
 Frank lets out a pathetically high-pitched moan, arms starting to shake under the strain of keeping himself from falling on top of Jacques.
 âSlow at first,â he continues. His voice his rough still, and it only serves to make his words more intense. âUntil youâre desperate for it, grabbing my hips, trying to force me to go faster. Iâd make you feel so good, Frank.â
 Frankâs mind is conjuring up images without any issue. How Jacques would look above him, slowly riding Frankâs cock, breathing heavily and stroking himself, eyes fixed on Frankâs face. He imagines how it would feel to grab Jacquesâ hips and force him down, thrusting up into him, hard, hearing Jacquesâ moans as heâs filled again and again.
 He wants to say something back, he really does, but Jacquesâ touch is unrelenting, and he canât focus. Lips press against his throat, kissing at first, then sucking hard, teeth digging in. Itâs so good, too good, he canât, he canât â
 His climax hits him hard, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over him as Jacquesâ strokes him through it. By the end, when he feels completely drained, his arms finally give out, and his inelegantly flops down onto Jacques. Jacques laughs gently, no trace of mockery, only fondness. Frank rests his forehead against Jacquesâ for a while, just breathing, enjoying the closeness and intimacy of the moment.
 When he has gathered his wits about him, he rolls off and settles on his back. Jacques follows, throwing his arm across Frankâs stomach and shifting until heâs plastered to Frankâs side, resting his head on Frankâs chest. It's very easy for Frank to wrap his own arm around Jacquesâ shoulder and pull the sheets up the cover them. âI should have known youâd be a cuddler,â Frank says, not exactly teasing. Maybe a little.
 Jacques snorts. âYou like it.â He doesnât move an inch.
 The lie there in silence for a while. Frank is starting to doze off when Jacques suddenly speaks.
 âIt was Olaf.â
 Frank tenses, suddenly wide awake. âExcuse me?â
 Jacques hesitates briefly before repeating himself. âIt was Olaf who stabbed me.â
 Frank sits up in one jerking motion, shrugging Jacquesâ arm off his middle. âWhy did you want to keep that a secret from the VFD, from everyone?â âFrom meâ remains unsaid.
 Jacques sits up as well. He starts nervously picking at the edge of the sheets, which have pooled in his lap, avoiding eye contact. âI didnât want to risk any unwarranted retaliations.â
 ââUnwarrantedâ? He stabbed you! Retaliation is pretty damn warranted.â
 Jacquesâ finally looks at him, his face hardening. âIt was an accident. He didnât mean to hurt me. Not that seriously anyway.â
 Frank let out a humorless bark of a laugh. âOh, so what? He tripped and fell into you knife-first?â
 Jacques narrows his eyes in anger. âThis is why I didnât tell you. I knew you wouldnât understand.â
 For a couple of seconds longer Frank is just blissfully confused. But then his mind starts working again, pulling up memories that are normally stored comfortably away. Scenes from their youth, back when things seemed simpler. Frank never liked Olaf, not even a little, but the Snicket siblings did, more or less, at one time or another. Whether it was Lemony and him wreaking social havoc in the theater club, or Kit and him practicing adapting the VFD disguises, or Jacques and him... how many times did Frank hear about the two of them getting detention for sneaking away to smoke under the bleachers? Half a dozen at least. He remembers Olaf hanging on Jacquesâ shoulder, drunk at a student party that Frank was only at because Bertrand insisted, his superior height making the sight comical. He remembers Jacques smiling indulgently, blushing when Olaf whispers something in his ear.
 âFrank?â
 He pulls himself out of his reverie to find Jacques staring at him. His expression must be showing his realization clearly, because Jacques flinches. âItâs not like that, I swear.â
 âOh?â Frank asks. His tone sounds cold even to his own ears. âBecause from where Iâm sitting, youâre covering for an old lover, who, need I remind you, is our enemy!â He didnât mean to raise his voice, but it happened anyway.
 Jacquesâ lips curl into a sneer. âItâs none of your fucking business.â
 Frank gets up, gathering his clothes and throwing them on in record speed while Jacques watches in silence. As soon as heâs presentable, he turns back to the bed. Jacques hasnât moved, although his anger seems tempered with sadness now. âI thought you were noble,â Frank says, immediately wishing he hadnât.
 Jacquesâ face darkens again. âThat was beneath you, Frank.â
 It was. But thereâs no taking it back, so instead Frank turns and leaves the room without another word.
 ***
 He walks back to his office in somewhat of a daze, his thoughts racing too quickly for him to distinguish any one of them properly. Heâs cycling though emotions just as quickly; anger, frustration, betrayal, and then guilt and regret. He shouldnât have left like that, he shouldnât have lashed out, Jacques had his reasons, even if Frank disagrees. He may very well have ruined everything.
 He sits down in his chair, barely registering Ernestâs approach before heâs standing in front of the desk. When Frank looks up his brotherâs head is tilted slightly, a mildly puzzled look on his face. His eyes dart down, fixing on Frankâs throat. Jacques must have left some hickeys, because Ernestâs demeanor changes to something... else. Frank doesnât usually struggle to read his brotherâs expression, but he genuinely isnât sure whatâs he is thinking right now.
 âDid you know?â
 âThat it was Olaf? Yes.â
 Frank wants to shout and throw something at the wall, but he doesnât. Instead he inhales slowly through his nose and on the exhale he schools his own facial expression into the closest approximation of indifference he can manage right now. âDoesnât matter.â
 Ernest shrugs. âNot really, no.â
 It... heâs right. It doesnât matter. What matters is the Jacques isnât dead, even if itâs thanks to Frankâs help. What matters is that Jacques cares about him, and Frank cares about him, and he just stormed out like a fool.
 If heâs going to salvage this, he needs to act immediately. So he does, rising abruptly, making a beeline for the door.
 âWhere are you going?â Ernest asks, although itâs obvious from his tone that he already knows.
 Frank pauses, hand on the doorknob. He thinks for a moment, then looks to Ernest and says, âIâm attending to my happiness.â
 He opens the door and exits without looking back, and so he doesnât see the soft half-smile that appears on Ernestâs face as he leaves.
 ***
 He slips quietly back into room 070. The lights are off, but the curtains are open, bathing the room in moonlight. Frank waits until his eyes have adjusted a little before approaching the bed. Heâs not sure what to say, but when Jacques opens his eyes and looks at him, he realizes that he doesnât have to say anything right now. Very slowly, giving Jacques plenty of time to object, he takes most of his clothes off again and climbs back onto the bed. Jacques lifts the sheets up in invitation. Frank ends up lying on his side, Jacques curled around his back, arm slung around Frankâs middle, fingers idle caressing his stomach. Itâs comforting. He canât remember the last time someone held him like that.
 âIâm sorry.â
 âI know,â Jacques says. He presses his lips to the nape of Frankâs neck, just a quick peck, but it speaks volumes. âThank you for saying it.â He pauses. âI care about you a lot, Frank.â
 When Frank tries to reply, Jacques cuts him off before he gets even one word out. âNo. Just... letâs leave it until morning, okay? When weâre clear-headed.â
 He canât fault Jacquesâ logic, especially when he somehow manages to pull Frank even closer to his chest and sighs with contentment. Frank lies awake long after Jacques has fallen asleep, but for once his overly analytical mind is blissfully quiet. Heâs here, in bed with Jacques, and theyâre warm and safe, so does it really matter how they got here?
 Not really, no.
 finis
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So I made this AU a long time ago that combined The Haunting of Hill House (2018) and Lemony Snicketâs âA Series of Unfortunate Eventsâ where The Crains join VFD and try to thwart Olafâs plans of getting The Baudelaireâs inheritance, as well as just trying to help the kids in general. The Crains join after the events at Hill House under the recruitment of Aunt Janet (as well as Hugh, who thought VFD would protect them from harm). They leave VFD after The End. The Baudelaireâs end up in Shirleyâs care. :)
If anyone wants to hear more about it- whether itâs their sibling dynamics, relationships with VFD as a organization, dynamics with The Baudelaires, who theyâre friends with in VFD, etc. Iâm all open for questions! I unfortunately donât have a name for this AU? Iâve been calling it âVFD Crainsâ or âASOUE Crainsâ but it doesnât fit either way. Hereâs some information about The Crains as well as moodboards. Enjoy!
***
Steven Crain [He/Him]:
Age: 40
Profession: Writer/Author
Side of VFD: Firefighter (formerly); Defected/N/A (currently)
Quote: âApparently, historical fiction is out of vogue.â
Status/Last Seen: Alive; Writing in his office in VFD Headquarters.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/5ffadc18458d623277ae664ec38cad5d/b21d7ea098dcc0d0-c5/s540x810/2809287ec4cc97309ffb77188517ec8cfac54591.jpg)
Shirley Crain-Harris [She/Her]:
Age: 39
Profession: Mortician
Side of VFD: Firefighter; Defected/N/A (currently)
Quote: "I'm not perfect, you know. I'm really not. So go ahead, tell me. Try again."
Status/Last Seen: Alive; reading in the common area of VFD Headquarters
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/fd61a603205fc3cba2f555f35193f5c1/b21d7ea098dcc0d0-88/s540x810/671dcaeebeb35028e05e67f5cb79127745d3a950.jpg)
Theodora Crain [She/Her]:
Age: 37
Profession: Child Psychologist
Side of VFD: Firefighter (formerly); Defected/N/A (currently)
Quote: "Well, be sure to let your imagination get the best of you. That's the first step. Imagine the worst thing possible, assume it's true, and go from there.â
Status/Last Seen: Alive; in a cab headed far away from VFD headquarters.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/cbe863769b03a604965ddaf264f64098/b21d7ea098dcc0d0-66/s540x810/c644fcb7f622c4202a21bc4834ce02a3a295e97a.jpg)
Luke Crain [He/Him]:
Age: 33
Profession: Artist; Arsonist(?)
Side of VFD: Firefighter and Firestarter; Defected/N/A (currently)
Quote: "Big boys know the difference between what's real and imaginary."
Status/Last Seen: Alive; somewhere on Mount Fraught
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/f65328fecee9a2831bb3a7431d0512c7/b21d7ea098dcc0d0-bf/s540x810/e5bfd06743540dabde7f570ef4092f2623c5e4fb.jpg)
Eleanor Crain [She/Her]:
Age: 33
Profession: Librarian
Side of VFD: Firefighter (formerly); Defected/N/A (currently)
Quote: âOur moments fall around us like rain.â
Status/Last Seen: Alive; walking through The City with four children who may or may not be The Baudelaires
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/00ef8d4da23b82ee99f296d2f9cdc12c/b21d7ea098dcc0d0-b0/s540x810/d0861c5b429e3fb9afeda5f14dfd4c0e779711b2.jpg)
#thespookybean14#the haunting of hill house#spooky faves#moodboards#alternate universe#hill house au#a series of unfortunate events#asoue#a series of unfortunate events au#steve crain#shirley crain#theo crain#luke crain#nell crain#the baudelaire children#lemony snicket#aesthetic
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