#asoue fic

[frost-queen]

Quiet dreamers (Reader x Klaus Baudelaire)

Requested by anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @alex--awesome--22, @ellie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books , @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown , @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampything07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 , @markive-m,

Lunch time.

The cafeteria was quiet. Unlike any other cafeteria one could be accustomed to. Yet this was no ordinary cafeteria. It was Prufrock prep’s cafeteria. Where students were kept in check. Due to the seriousness of the school, there became an unwritten rule that lunch time was being held in silence. Any talking could draw the attention of teachers, would draw the attention to punishment. The silence had woven a way into the school’s spirit.

At one of the tables sat you. Picking at your food as it was never something tasty. Nothing that made you yearn for lunch time with treats. Common food that barely had any taste. You were alone sitting at the long table benches. Your fork going mindlessly around in your plate as your gaze was focused forwards. Barely any movement from your eyes as you were lost. Lost in your own thoughts. It was a habit you had picked up along the way. Since talking wasn’t much allowed. Or at least no one did loudly enough for the teachers.

Eyes barely tracking anything. Locked on the distance as you lived your life in your mind. When on one talked to you, you created the habit of taking comfort in you own company. At first it was very little, then it became more frequent. A bad habit Prufrock prep had enabled on you. It wasn’t that you had much friends. Not until the Baudelaire children arrived. You sort of enrolled into them as you were somewhat friends with Isadora and Duncan Quagmire. Through them you came in contact with the Baudelaire children. No longer so alone anymore.

So caught up with yourself, you didn’t hear the upcoming footsteps. The movement nearing, followed by whispering. The Quagmire’s and Baudelaire’s came sitting around you. – “Midday Y/n.” – Isadora said, seeing you not respond. Violet wanted to snap her finger in front of you as Klaus kept her hand down.  – “Allow me.” – he said, getting back up.

Coming around the table to where Duncan was sitting beside you. With a simple gesture he asked for Duncan to make some room. Duncan scooted over, making room for Klaus. Klaus came sitting backwards. Back against the table to get a clearer view of you. Klaus placed his hand on yours.

“Y/n.” – he said softly giving your hand a squeeze. His touch made you blink surprised, seeing your friends suddenly around you. – “How long have you been here?” – you asked, not sure how long they were here. Having lost track of time. Klaus sheepishly back at you.

“You were in your head again, Y/n.” – he replied tapping you on your forehead. – “Oh…” – was your first response, feeling a bit embarrassed. Looking shyly down. Klaus took your hand, placing it fully in his. – “It’s alright.” – he whispered to you, knowing a bit already how you were. He didn’t blame you. Prufrock was a place where you wanted to escape. Even when it was in your own head.

Where it was much saver and much more interesting. Klaus swept his legs over the bench, to sit straightforward. They started whispering, keeping their heads low. You kept a smile up, following for a little while. Till you started to think of other things. Slowly drifting away as their words became muffled mouth movements. Barely paying attention to what they were saying, but still engaging in the conversation with little head nods.

You blinked surprised when they suddenly got up. – “What... what’s going on? Where are we going?” – you asked, getting up as well. Taking your tray in your hand. – “Didn’t you hear anything I said?” – Duncan questioned, quirking his eyebrow up. – “Of…of course…” – you answered, not wanting to sound like you didn’t. You quirked up a silly smile to show him, you understood. Sunny looked up to you, shaking her little head. She knew you were lying. Your friends carried on as you simply followed them. Having no clue of the context of their leaving.

Setting the tray away, you dusted your hands off, jogging after them. Klaus waited for you by the door, coming to step in line with you. – “We are heading for the sport tracks, dreamer.” – Klaus informed you, tapping you on the cheek. – “Oh…” – you responded as it made him laugh. Known to your simple ‘oh’s of recognition that you completely missed the point.

Isadora, Duncan, Violet and Sunny taking the lead as Klaus remained by your side. – “I’m sorry.” – you told him, feeling a bit guilty. Fidgeting with your uniform from the nerves. Klaus noticed it, taking your hand to stop you from fidgeting. He brought your hand up, giving you a little tug that you were closer to him. – “I don’t need an apology dreamer.” – he told you. His response made you smile back at him.

Klaus lowered his hand, slowly taking his hand out of yours. Tugging them in his pockets. – “How are classes Y/n?” – he asked curious, pushing his glasses further up his nose. – “Why do you ask?” – you answered a bit suspiciously. – “I’m just asking.” – Klaus responded with a shrug of his shoulders.

“You think I barely catch up with him schoolwork, thinking I am not paying much attention, don’t you?” – you called out to him with an accusing point. – “Well are you?” – Klaus came to a stop, tilting his head a bit. You tried to keep a serious face, keeping your glare up, but it soon faltered. There was no lying to him.

Your hand dropped, shoulders slouching down with a deep sigh. – “Maybe…” – you said quietly don’t wanting to admit to it much. – “Y/n.” – Klaus groaned out that you weren’t paying attention. – “I can’t help it!” – you shouted back, pressing your palms against your eyes.

Klaus sighed soft, looking back at his sisters and the Quamire’s. – “Wait!” – he shouted loud for their attention. They all paused, turning around. – “Y/n and I am heading for the library.” – he said. Your friends simply nodded, continuing to leave. – “Why are we going to the library?” – you asked him. Klaus gave you a look, taking your hand. – “To study dreamer.” – he told you.

You let Klaus take you to the library to study. Education was important to him. His mind like a book computer. Everything he ever read still vivid in his mind, the information easy to grab. Like picking it from the shelves. You entered the library as it was almost deserted. But a few students who preferred to avoid the cafeteria sat down. Some desperately doing their homework. Others simply browsing through the books to pass the time.

Klaus eyed a table, setting you down. – “Stay here.” – he said, pressing his hands down on your shoulders. Confused, you looked from side to side, watching him leave. He disappeared into a row. Taking his time. You started kicking your feet back and forth. Thinking about being alone with him.

Before you could stop it, your head filled with things again. Thinking away about anything but your surroundings. They became numb as you weren’t paying close attention to them. You got startled when a stack of books dropped with a thud down on the table. – “Arise and shine, dreamer.” – Klaus chuckled out. You shot him a glare. – “I wasn’t dreaming.” – you told him, crossing your arms.

Klaus nodded not believing you, taking a seat beside you. He opened the first book, laying it out to you. – “Must I really?” – you asked him, grabbing hard onto the side of the chair. Klaus nodded. – “Unless you don’t wish to spend time with me alone?” – he asked pushing his glasses just a bit further up. Your eyes widened, making you wave your hands across.

“No of course I want to.” – you told him. – “Good.” – he replied opening another book. – “Consider it a study date.” – he said sheepishly. You turned bashful, turning your head away. – “Y/n.” – Klaus started, taking you by your chin to look at him. – “I need your full attention.” – he finished, gazing into your eyes. You nodded numbly, caught up by his stare.

Klaus started educating you. Whenever he felt like he was losing you, he tapped your forehead. Calling you ‘dreamer’ before continuing again. Each time you chuckled sheepishly that you had failed again. Klaus being very patient with it.

------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[thesinistersideblog]

This confirms my long standing theory that Mr Poe was born and hatched in a vat and raised to be a the perfect corporate drone in the dystopian, post apocalyptic world of ASOUE. I mean , how else can someone be so robotic and clueless? Does he really have NO recollection of his old life prior to being a banker? How is that even possible? He must have SOME fond memory of his childhood. Everybody does.

Unless he was telling the truth. His mind before being a banker is a complete blank.

I mean, think about it. He’s always sighing wistfully about missing certain childhood experiences, isn’t he? Stuff like going to boarding school and the theatre and things. He’s so blind to the Baudelaire’s plight and their complaints, and maybe that’s exactly why; because he lacks fundamental understanding of what it must be like to be a kid. Because he was never one at all.

And if he’s fake then it naturally follows that his family are fake too. They’re not real people, clones hatched by the government and put in place in the same project as him so that he can keep believing the illusion of having a normal life. In reality there is no Mr. Poe. He never existed. He was never a real person. He was born to be a drone and to advance the plans of VFD higher ups , who wanted easy access to the Baudelaire’s fortune.

[jew-flexive]

“Why are you here?” He snaps, leaning heavily on his doorframe. There are a hundred answers to his question, each less admissible than the last.

Because Jacques told me it was necessary. Because someone told Jacques to tell me it was necessary. Because I’m the only person besides B who might turn you human. Because I’m the only person besides B who still thinks you’re human. Because you’re brilliant and mad and still so goddamn useful. Because tattoos stay permanent no matter how many fires you start. Because I think you start fires just because you know I’ll be the one to put them out. Because you’re laughably easy to lie to. Because I didn’t kill your father but I might as well have. Because you didn’t kill my brother but given half a chance you would have. Because you loved me for five years and still only hate me a little.

Because I want to be. God help me, I’m here because I want to be.

“We should talk,” is all she says, stepping past him through the door.

[It’s a year before the Baudelaire fire. Kit has always been a very useful volunteer.]

[snicketverse-fic-finder]

ASOUE characters: How popular are they on Ao3?✨📚😎😮🫢

No.of fics with each character in them

Baudelaires:

Beatrice: 417

Bertrand: 257

🔧Violet: 977 🏆

📚Klaus: 822

🍳 Sunny: 662

👶 Beatrice II: 192

Quagmires:

Mrs Quagmire: 34

Mr Quagmire: 28

🖋️Isadora: 369 🏆

🗞️ Duncan: 367

🗺️ Quigley: 332 (Surprising tbh, I thought he’d win out of the triplets at least)

Widdershins:

⚓️Captain Widdershins: 40

🍄 Fiona: 114

🪝 Fernald: 166 🏆

Olaf+his troupe:

🎭 Count Olaf: 722 🏆

🍸 Esmé Squalor: 379

Woman with hair but no beard: 30

Man with beard but no hair: 25

👓 Georgina Orwell: 143

Henchperson of indeterminate gender: 84

Bald man: 57

White-faced women: 56 (just mildly less popular than the bald man yet there’s TWO of them- that’s gotta blow 😔-)

🎪[The Freaks] 🎪

Kevin: 14 🏅

Hugo: 13

Collette: 12

Denouements:

Frank: 76

Ernest: 92

🦄: 102 🏆

Snickets: (Take this with a grain of salt bc they have a whole other series -ATWQ- going for them)

Jaques: 347

Kit: 410

Lemony: 536 🏆

Guardians+the likes:

🏦 Mr Poe: 104

🗞️ Eleanora Poe: 14

📰 Polly Poe: 1

🐑 Edgar Poe: 10

💰 Albert Poe: 6 (Why is Edgar more popular??)

🐍Uncle Monty: 114

🐍 Ink/The Incredibly Deadly Viper: 8

🪟 Aunt Josephine: 72

Ike Anwhistle: 26

[🚬 Sir: 30

Charles: 54

👓 Georgina Orwell: 143 🏅

😃 Phil: 10 ]

[🎻Vice Principal Nero: 37 (That’s less than the bald man who has maybe 3 lines total, take that!)

Mrs Bass: 4 (Damn.)

Ms. Tench: 2 (Double damn)

Mr Remora: 3

📚 Olivia Caliban: 237 🏅]

🍸 Jerome Squalor: 104

(✨Esmé Squalor: 379 but I put her in the Olaf’s troupe section. This is just for quick comparison to Jerome. Poor guy. Ish. I don’t actually feel that bad for him tbh.)

🦅 The Council of Elders: 4

🎈 Hector: 48

Hal: 8

Babs: 9

Phil: 10

[🍎 Ishmael: 17

🐟 Miranda Caliban: 8

🕶️ Friday Caliban: 26 🏅

🚢 Thursday: 5 ]

Miscellaneous VFD members:

😎 Jacquelyn Scieszka: 172 🏆

🎥 Gustav Sebald: 78

🐟 Larry Your-Waiter: 85

👑 Duchess R of Winnipeg: 61 or 64 (3 are under ‘Duchess R’

Uncategorised:

Ben: 4

🚲 The Paperboy: 3

💃 Carmelita Spats: 149

Top 3:

1~ Violet Baudelaire! 🔧💜 (977 fics on Ao3 are tagged ‘Violet Baudelaire’! 🎉)

2~Klaus Baudelaire!!📚💙(822 fics!)

3~ Count Olaf! 👁️ 😈 (722 fics!)

Loser:

Polly Poe (with a disappointing 1 fic!😱)

[vfdarlings]

question for those of you who read Firebug, have read Fortunate, or have enjoyed any of my other snicketverse fics — should i let the poor Snickets chill for most of ch5, or should i make them (more specifically the Baudelaire kids) resolve some old wounds and trust issues??

I’ve got the storyline down and chapter outlines have been done for ages, so I know where everything’s going, but I’m not sure if I want to give them a blissful beach episode and follow my plan, or spice things up a little with healing trauma.

[snicketstrange]

Untie My Silence Knot -Chapter 10 - Lemony, you are so finished.

From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever gods may be That no life lives for ever; That dead men rise up never; That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea.

Algernon Charles Swinburne.

If you are interested in reading a story with a happy ending, I'm sorry for you. I also apologize to you for just alerting you in the last chapter. This was not a story that had a happy beginning, nor did it have a happy ending, let alone have happy things during the middle of it. However, nothing is so bad that it can't be made worse, so I would say this is a story about how I can prevent something worse from happening.

I could begin with an unfortunate recording made by a device hidden in a fireproof tea utensil. Or I could put in this chapter just one document I found inside a top hat that was stored in a secret submerged library. Or I could describe the report of a certain specialist who is a friend of Lemony Snicket. Instead, I'm going to start this chapter by describing my meeting with a certain person at the Cafe where I work.

The person in question was draped in a crimson shawl, its edges adorned with long, delicate feathers that seemed to flutter with each subtle movement. The person had ordered a black and bitter coffee. I realized that the person had a large female handbag that should fit a lot of mysterious things. The person was sitting in the most private part of the Cafe, exactly where I had attended the meeting where I got Lemony Snicket's unauthorized autobiography. A few minutes passed, and a man with an overcoat and a hat entered the Cafe. He looked concerned. He sat on the counter, next to the barista. I went to take his order quickly. He ordered a root beer float. Meanwhile, the person with the long shawl called for a waiter. I saw the person delivering something to him. I handed the man the root beer float in his overcoat and quickly intercepted the waiter.

"I don’t know why I had to disguise myself as a waiter", Lisa murmured with a hint of frustration, "when I could have been a waitress instead."

I smiled at her.

Do you think it has already taken effect? - I asked Lisa.

You read the book … Are you controlling the time?

Yes, I am.

So I went to the table where the person with the shawl was sitting. The person looked at me with make-up eyes and a mouth with bright red lipstick.

Who are you? - The person asked me.

My name is Beatrice Baudelaire. - I replied looking into the person's eyes.

It's a pleasure to meet someone who has the same name as me. It's quite a coincidence.

I don't think it's a coincidence. Violet, Klaus, and Sunny gave me these names in honor of their mother. - I saw a flicker of surprise cross the person's face, their lips twitching slightly.

I would love to understand how this happened, miss, but I need to meet that gentleman who is sitting right there.

Was your coffee bitter enough? - I asked.

The person stared at the cup, eyes widening in dawning horror.

Today you will only meet with me. And tomorrow, when the effect of the tea I added to your coffee is over, you'll meet the police.

What are you talking about? - The person tried to get up and move his arms and failed.

"Botanical Poisons and Their Applications." I found a copy of this book in the last library I was in. Also, when I first arrived in the City, I was at Mr. Snicket's apartment. From there I spotted a lot in which there were several unusual plants. I realized that there had been a fire in that place at some point in the past. Only when I spent more time in the city I realized that the Royal Gardens were there. And by the force of fate, the plants that rose from the ashes were the ones that stayed in the Poisonous Pavilion. I was there, and I collected some of the plants that I made the tea you drank mixed with your coffee. One of the plants causes progressive paralysis, and the other makes you more susceptible to just telling the truth.

Lemony …

Lemony is right there, I know … He's not going anywhere. Soon he will feel a strange sleep and will take a nap right there where he is sitting. When he wakes up, he and I will have a long conversation. But now, it's our turn to talk. And you're going to clear him of the charge of being an arsonist.

I took out my electronic recording device, which was in my pocket. I pressed the REC key.

I'll tell you a story. And you're just going to confirm or deny what I'm saying. The person's eyes glazed over, their voice flat and emotionless, as if trapped in a hypnotic trance. I now understood how Dr. Orwell must feel.

Your real name is Bertrand Baudelaire,’ I said, watching his eyes for a flicker of recognition. ‘You killed a woman named Violetta. Am I right?’ His gaze faltered.

Yes. "You set fire to the Baudelaire mansion and made the authorities think it was Lemony Snicket." Am I right?

Yes.

You pretended to be Beatrice Baudelaire and Kit Snicket to lure Lemony Snicket into a trap, am I right?

I continued to ask Bertrand several questions. He confirmed them all. I could have handed Lemony the original recording showing what exactly happened that day. But I know it would be too sad for him.

Now that time has passed, and I know that Lemony will no longer be able to read this, I can explain it to you, dear reader.

I found page 9 of the Snicket File, which you must have read before getting here. (Unless you have a bad habit of reading the final chapters of a book before reading the opening chapters).

The time I spent in the submerged library was well used by me. What I read from Beatrice's words made me certain: she certainly died on the day when her house was set on fire. After all, she loved her children very much, and she would never have left them in such a difficult situation if she were alive.

Then I realized something very important … One of the reasons that Beatrice sought Violetta was because she wanted a doctor capable of lying. The question was, "Lying to whom?" The answer was more bitter than I could have imagined, and I only discovered it when I found the book Botanical Poisons and Their Applications. According to the book, Conium maculatum is a poison with no known antidotes.

Beatrice wanted Violetta to lie to Beatrice herself. She was trying to kill herself but started acting like she was trying to fake her death.

It should be easier for her to engage her subconscious.

Everything was going on like a play. After searching a lot, I found a recording of what happened in the last few minutes before the fire. The recording was not complete, unfortunately. But two voices were perfectly heard. A male voice and a female voice.

She's dead, Bertrand … She told me what she was going to do and that's why I came here.

It can not be! We just sent the kids to the beach, because Lemony was due to get here today! How am I going to face the kids?

Bertrand, she wanted me to take care of you.

You what?

She wanted it, Bertrand!

Why did not you tell me? I could have stopped her! I loved her!

She loved you too, Bertrand! And so she didn't want children to be without a mother. I can be an excellent mother to them. Because I love you, and I will love them.

Violetta, go away. Before I do anything very wrong.

The recording sound was bad and I didn't hear the next few minutes. But then the recording went back to work. Violetta seemed to be screaming.

You forced me to do that Bertrand! I was going to leave you in happy ignorance!

What is it?

Do you remember when you wanted to have a third child? But the years passed and Beatrice did not get pregnant again at all. You started to believe that there was something wrong with either of you or both. And you two did medical tests.

Yes, I remember that. But what does this have to do with …

I forged your exams, Bertrand! Because Beatrice was already pregnant at that time, you no longer needed to know the truth.

What are you talking about?

Here is the real result … Do you see here, what is written? "Congenital" is a word that here means that she has betrayed you and none of those children are yours!

Again the recording was bad. When it returned I heard only male screams and the sound of things falling and breaking. Bertrand confirmed to me that he started the fire after hitting Violetta with the fireplace poker. Bertrand hid in the secret tunnel during the fire, taking some supplies, Beatrice's clothes and his clothes, his favorite books, the pot of the poisonous plant that had killed Beatrice, and some documents. Violleta had spoken before she died about how Beatrice intended to get the poisonous plant. So, after a few days, Bertrand also set fire to the Royal Gardens.

He made Lemony's letter, stating that he was about to arrive, end up in the hands of law enforcement officials. The poisonous plant was left in the secret tunnel, and Jacques Snicket found it. When Bertrand finally fell asleep, Lisa and I tied his hands and feet and took him to the basement.

I returned in time to sit down at the table and analyze the handbag. Bertrand was carrying a dart thrower. He would probably kill Lemony Snicket right thereafter confronting him. He carried several letters. These were the letters he had taken from Beatrice's brother. Of course, he already knew how to disguise himself as his wife, being able to deceive his brother-in-law and take the letters into his hands. When Bertrand realized that he had not managed to get Lemony killed at the hands of the judicial authorities, Bertrand tried to kill Lemony with his bare hands. He made Lemony believe that Beatrice was still alive and lured him to the Duchess of Winnipeg's mansion. The poor Duchess must have been murdered after she wrote that letter in Lemony's unauthorized autobiography. She knew too much. Or maybe it was Bertrand who wrote that letter … I never ended up asking him that. In any case, Lemony stayed out of the country for many years, but when he returned Bertrand initiated his plan to attract and kill Lemony. He wrote letters pretending to be my mother and pretending to be Beatrice Baudelaire, just like I decided to do. But he thought about it before I did, and in fact, now I realize that I unconsciously saw his plan in progress and ended up finding a good plan and copying it. (Of course, I wanted to attract Lemony by pretending to be people he loved who were dead, not to kill him, but to talk to him.) I cannot say that I fully understand Bertrand's attitude. I don't think he dressed like Beatrice just so he could get back at Lemony. I think he was trying to keep her alive somehow. And now I understand that my research is somewhat similar to his attitude.

Finally Lemony woke up. Lisa handed him the card Bertrand had written. Lemony came to the table. And then we had a long and pleasant conversation.

So you are my niece? This is a difficult story to believe.

Well, I brought some books and some writings that were found with me on a beach. Here are Sunny, Klaus, and Violet's commonplace books. They guided me for many years. Lemony took the books and turned each page carefully. I didn't tell him about Bertrand Baudelaire. The recording I made was forwarded to the police, and the following afternoon Bertrand Baudelaire was arrested. Lemony never knew these details, but he did know he was cleared. He believed me that night. And I could see that he felt happy and sad at the same time when he met me.

So you wrote all those letters?

Yes, it was me.

But some letters don't make sense … Some letters seem to have references to letters I had written for Violet's mother many years ago. How could you know? I reached out and handed him the package of letters that Bertrand had brought.

I ended up finding this on some of my trips. I'm sorry for cheating you. Lemony took the letters, and I saw a nostalgic expression on his face.

Why didn't you sign some of the letters but others did you?

I'm sorry for that. Are my letters there with you? Lemony took several letters out of his overcoat. Bertrand did not sign the letters he sent to Lemony. Unlike Beatrice, he did not learn to forge signatures. I signed in front of him.

Okay, now you have letters from Beatrice and letters to Beatrice.

Lemony took a letter from the middle of the set. It was a huge letter, with a large ring-shaped mark, from someone who placed a container of drinks on the letter sheet without using a coaster.

Something doesn't make sense, Beatrice. This letter contains the answers to 12 of 13 questions that Beatrice once asked me. But I know that this letter never reached her hands because she let me write it. How did that letter reach your hands? And if you had that letter, why did you write it in one of the letters that still had 12 questions for me to answer?

Does everything have to make sense for you? If you tell me where my foster parents are, I will tell you the secret of that letter.

He smiled sadly. I didn't know what the secret of that letter was. But Bertrand was the one who intercepted that letter and had never discussed it with Beatrice. Was that why he had been so jealous and insecure about the proof that Lemony was alive?

I never knew Beatrice, where your adoptive parents are right now. But, if you're here and they never found you …

Do not say that.

They would never leave you alone, would they? Not for so long… I found something in my research on the Baudelaire case. Something very sad and I took a picture. It was a picture of a vessel that belonged to the Baudelaires, called Beatrice. And Beatrice sank.

I asked to see the photograph, and he also took that photograph from inside the overcoat.

I smiled through tears. It represented something that I remembered.

They must have made an improvised vessel with the few books that were on the vessel. And then they decided to save you, Beatrice.

He started to cry and so did I. And he was right. I think I always knew, after all. But now I had a photograph. And looking at the picture, in my heart, I could say "thanks" and "goodbye".

But you said in one of the letters that they had recently separated from you, didn't you?

I could not say that this was a big lie by an impostor who wanted to make Lemony believe that the Baudelaires were also alive and that they had met with their mother to attract and kill him.

Yes it's true.

Maybe they are out there looking for you, and they never found you because you were always traveling from place to place. If you stay here, they may find you someday.

Yes - I said through tears.

And if you stay here, I can always find you too.

Lisa approached the table. She was listening to everything.

It's true, Beatrice. Just because you're an orphan doesn't mean you have no family. I am your family now. And now you've met three uncles.

One of them is an arsonist …

Lemony said:

Even Ernest values the family. He would never hurt Dewey's daughter. And who knows, you can help him find his way back to nobility.

I was grateful for that. Now it was my turn to give back to Lemony.

Would you like to say goodbye to her? - I asked.

To say goodbye to whom?

Beatrice Baudelaire. Not me, the other one.

What are you talking about?

I know where she must be. But to prove it, I need some samples of her hair or nails.

The only "hair sample" I had I returned to her, along with this letter that you don't want to explain to me how you owned it. When I heard that, I opened Bertrand's handbag and found that. Lemony refused to ask me any more questions about how strange it was and realized that some things were better left in the great unknown.

After a few days, Lemony and I arrived at the laboratory of a skeleton specialist who was Lemony's friend. I had read about that woman in TSS. In Beatrice's will, she asked to be buried in one of Mount Fraught's caves without a headstone. It was a cave especially full of bats. I had been there, and I knew where it was. Lemony wrote that she had found many bones in that region, and I deduced that some of the bones were from Beatrice. He and I held hands when the doctor confirmed that the bones belonged to the owner of that hair. We cry and hug.

Finally Lemony had found Beatrice.

I asked him to send me a photo of the cave where he would ensure that it was buried again. Violetta's bones were also buried there, mistaken for Bertrand's bones. Mr. Poe made sure that no one else knew where the alleged couple had been buried, according to the instructions in the will.

Soon I will also need to climb those mountains to fulfill a promise I made to my uncle. I will take a sugar bowl with me and stick it on that cave with a small inscription: "B and L - Love Conquers Nearly Everything."

[justelib]

Guys, guys, guys, how does a fanfic for Asoue sound? The oc being the BIO child of count Olaf and kit? They live with Olaf and at first it’s kind of a rapunzel vibe, the kid is kept in the house, never aloud to leave unless accompanied, and Olaf keeps them around so he could feel love or something? But when Olaf escapes after trying to marry Violet, the kid is also transferred to live with Monty and is dragged to all of the other guardians the Baudelaires go to? I’m thinking possibly a female x female, Violet x female!oc? (Im literally inlove with malina weissman!)

I’m also currently planning a free rein fic and stranger things fic! Along with my Percy Jackson fic and possibly a love, Victor fic!

[friolentodesvelado]

why is it that the grammarly editor thing is either the best thing to ever happen to humans or it gives me the absolute stupidest recommendations that make me want to tear my hair out

[ven10]

ASOUE GIFT EXCHANGE 🎁 👁️

Sign up to write a fic or draw fanart for someone and recieve something that fits with your preferences in return!!

(You can specify if you would like to recieve art or writing alongside the art style and fic type! You will then be matched to someone for them to create a gift for you and vice versa!)

H https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSe2Cf9inaV-3CzsjOYBi9uaxn3G7byhXQz4Br_9UZMPAaIybQ/viewform

[fruggin-bitch]

NEW FICCC

i spent the last month working on this ASOUE fic!! its a reunion of the Baudelaire's and Quagmire's five years after the series ends and moments inbetween!

pls read and lmk if you like it!!

[bitwritey]

Longing Scars

Series: A Series Of Unfortunate Events Rating: Gen Chapter: 1/1 Main Characters: Quigley Quagmire Pairings: Quigley/Violet Description: He hasn't stopped thinking about her. Gift for @parissquads Warning: In my heart he's alive.

CLICK TITLE TO READ ON ARCHIVE.

[frost-queen]

The Austere academy series

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ * 。° 。 • ˚《》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ * 。° 。 • ˚《》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ * 。° 。 • ˚《

Klaus Baudelaire ✧ Reader

👁️ part 1 

👁️ part 2 

👁️ part 3 

👁️ part 4  

👁️ Part 5 

👁️Part 6

👁️ part 7 

👁️ part 8 

👁️ part 9 

👁️part 10 | Final

[sub-librarian]

Please elaborate on your Beatrice started the fire theory i need to know

I am so extremely sorry that I never answered this. I'll do my best to sum it up after a disclaimer:

I have covid and my partner has a broken leg from a hit and run but I will try to write out an explanation that does justice to it soon for you/anyone still following this blog.

I still think about this (and the way it will eventually go into a fanfiction that follows up on my TETMTM one) pretty frequently.

In short:

Beatrice's characterization is largely as an almost coldly efficient member of the Noble VFD. I think she sent the children out and faked her own death (to die later At A Social Engagement, unintended). I think they used the trap door. I think she WANTED Olaf to have the fortune and be a guardian and had managed to miss all the red flags + had enough ties to the firestarting side that she *thought he could stop the schism* . Like everyone did with the VFD itself because they were too invested in Solving Problems to realize they were creating them. There are heaps of justified reasons why, within the text, Beatrice could have legitimately thought the children were, and I know it's ridiculous "safer with Olaf" (or another VFD member, on either or neither side) than with her and her husband at that point and furthermore she *knew the symbolism of fire, of the power of children, of the power of near misses*. I think the entire first book more or less, was the result of one or two bad decisions made by a flammable woman trying to outrun the flame someone else started and starting another to try to fight back.

I'll try to find the energy and time to find my textual evidence + write more on this at some point soon but as mentioned I'm ill, being an unexpected in-home nurse (while taking care of 5 cats and 2 birds), working, preparing for NaNoWriMo, AND writing+drawing a horror comic while in talks to be the artist on a graphic novel. So I'm busy. And Exhausted. I think about this a lot though and want to talk more about it.

[countessviolet]

Family on Fire - Ch. 1 - Morning Commute

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

You would think with as much complaining Count Olaf did about the Baudelaires’ cooking that he would be more than happy to take the siblings grocery shopping. But the Count had not stopped groaning since Violet told him earlier that morning that a shopping trip was a necessary evil.

“You don’t have to come in,” Klaus suggested hopefully. If it were cooler out, he and his sisters would have simply walked or taken the trolley, but somehow, they once again found themselves escorted via Count Olaf’s coffin on wheels.

“No,” Olaf growled as he swerved into three parking spots. “You’ll spend all my hard-earned money on dumb things like toothpaste or vegetables.”

“Count Olaf, we’ve talked about this already, you cannot sustain your body and health on meat platters!” Klaus argued, grabbing their bags from the front.

Violet balanced Sunny as she dug her list from her hand-stitched pockets. “We’ll get all the nutrition we need as long as we stick to the list.”

Count Olaf snatched the list from Violet’s hand, frowning in disgust at the paper and shoving it back to her just as quickly. “Read it to me.”

Violet rolled her eyes and adjusted her bag as Klaus relieved her of Sunny and found them a cart.

“Milk, eggs, flour –”

“I don’t hear bacon, brisket or jerky,” Olaf bemoaned, violently giggling a gumball machine at the store’s entrance until several brightly colored balls shot out. Klaus reached out for one but Count Olaf blindly shoved the rest in his jacket pocket.

Violet proceeded to weigh several apples, calculating their cost as she continued to tame the restless count. “We still have stew meat in the freezer, and Justice Strauss brought over those mackerel last night, so that will get us through a few meals protein-wise.”

The count stared at his eldest ward uncomfortably. “Is...are you trying to starve me to death? That’s the thanks I get for taking you in?” His expression changed to solemn appreciation. “I’m impressed.”

“We’re on a budget, Count Olaf,” Klaus explained with less patience than his sister. A dark cloud fell over the count’s face at the mere mention that the Baudelaire fortune was still so far out of his grasp. He hit Klaus once for bringing it up, so Violet, well-versed in the Count’s change in mood, maneuvered the cart into his grasp. All Sunny had to do was flash Olaf her sharp teeth and the actor quickly pushed the cart as far out as he could as he stayed close to the other orphans.

Violet diagnosed that Count Olaf was a restless man not too long after she and her siblings moved in with him. A man-child, Klaus disagreed, with a drinking problem and unchecked ego, he would add. They agreed to disagree and further agreed to never deal with Count Olaf alone, but in the meantime compromised with how to deal with him together. With Klaus, it would be leaving him to his own devices and dealing with the consequences later. Violet elected to distract him in her line of sight. Sunny additionally acted as an extra set of eyes on Count Olaf, and she had her own method of dealing with their insufferable guardian.

The baby was humming. It was as annoying, more so than the pointless babbling only her siblings could understand. He snarled down at the youngest Baudelaire, wrinkling his nose as she squirmed in the cart’s seat and pointed a chubby hand at something.

“What is it, pipsqueak,” Olaf growled. He followed her insistent pointing to the meat section. Before him were gorgeous cuts of prime rib, coils of fresh sausages and rumps of roast, plump and juicy for the taking.

“Mmmm?” Sunny hummed, looking up at the count expectedly.

The Count looked back and forth at the baby and the meat section before grinning viciously.

“Not bad, orphan, not bad,” he said, sending a sharp look to his left and right before he eased the cart to the meat section.

Violet finished bagging grapes and cucumbers just in time to find Klaus returning with two boxes of crackers.

“Their one sale,” he said proudly. Violet grinned happily for him. It was hard to believe this time last year the siblings never had to step foot in a supermarket, never had to worry about things like budgeting or brand or weight comparisons. While their parents hadn’t spoiled Violet, Klaus or Sunny to the point of rottenness, the children had still wanted for nothing, and things like a full shopping cart or a second change of clothes were now a luxury. No doubt their time with the count had humbled the Baudelaires more than they were, despite what Olaf said or thought, and they learned how to make use of what they had and what they could get their hands on.

Violet did some quick calculations and smiled. “We have a little bit left over. Maybe we can tame Olaf with a pound of bacon.”

Klaus smirked at his sister’s rare zinger towards Count Olaf. Violet tended to keep her discontent with their situation quieter than he did, which had inadvertently caused her to become a sort of referee in the shared Count Olaf/Baudelaire household. He tried to be thoughtful of what an outburst with Olaf could mean for her, but the count of insufferable on a good day, downright intolerable on a bad one. It was better when it was just him and his sisters. He wished more than anything Mr. Poe would make up his mind about letting them access an allowance from Violet’s inheritance, enough to sate Olaf at least.

“Maybe we can convince him to take us to the library since we...”

Klaus trailed off just as he and his sister noticed their cart, and more importantly, their baby sister and the maniac she was watching, were gone.

The eldest Baudelaires shared a concerned look before calmly speeding through the store to find them.

“Sunny?” Klaus hissed in between aisles. If Olaf was in the parking lot trying to sell her again, he was going to throttle him!

“Sunny?” Violet whispered as she circled through the produce section, hoping her baby sister would be here with fresh, hard fruits and vegetables where she could get something crunchy to snack on.

“Sunny?” Klaus hissed as he darted up and down the aisles. He made a begrudged turn to the wine and spirits section where Violet too had stopped. She shook her head exhaustedly, looking around as if Olaf and Sunny would manifest through the multi-colored bottles.

“We should go to security and page them,” Klaus suggested. If anything happened to Sunny...

A crash just ahead paused the eldest Baudelaires next steps. A crash, or course, was not uncommon in a place like a grocery store, but Count Olaf was in the grocery store, which meant disaster was imminent, and that police were being called or were already on their way.

Violet and Klaus shot around to see the items on the shelves shaking as something from the other side of the aisle sped past.

“Stop you!” Someone yelled, and, to Klaus’ and Violet’s horror, Sunny’s familiar babble echoed back. And then –

“Quit whining brat and PUSH!” Count Olaf’s voice exploded through the aisle, brushing so close to the one next to it that the shelves began to tip.

Violet and Klaus dodged the chaos, running toward the tipping shelves and side-stepping frantic shoppers and finally came face to face with Count Olaf and the rickety shopping cart he was commanding. He was in the basket, the few items they had picked up crushed under his shoes and knees, creating a wet, slippery trail in his wake as—Sunny!—clung to the bottom of the basket, her small foot kicking with enough force to keep a sizable gap between them and what appeared to be store security and a slightly overweight man in a collared shirt. A manager perhaps?

The siblings looked at each other, mouths agape, and scattered. Violet dashed for the parking lot to find Olaf’s car. He didn’t lock the door, not like there was anything inside worth stealing anyway, but he had taken the keys. Violet tied her hair back, her hands somehow steady as she began unraveling wires from the dashboard, trying to remember was she tried to remember what she knew about electrical connections and cars. She glanced at the store, just able to see the cart whip back and forth through the wide front windows. Klaus was attempting to round up their wayward guardian and sister while also distracting security to give Sunny and Olaf a chance to escape store security. The automatic doors burst open as he, followed by the cart, an overturned Olaf and a stuttering Sunny clinging to the uneven wildly-spinning wheel.

Violet made eye-contact with Klaus just as the car roared to life, the cables and wires bobbing out like fresh intestines. The young inventor ripped the passenger door open, allowing Count Olaf to crash into the spacious back seat while Klaus rescued Sunny from the other side of the cart and flew into the seat with Violet. The eldest Baudelaire wasted no time slamming on the gas, miraculously swerving onto the road without hitting another vehicle.

“And don’t come back – ” the possible store manager yelled after them. Klaus sat up, Sunny clutched to his chest, mostly unharmed.

“That’s the third place we’ve been banned from this year,” he muttered, adjusting the rearview mirror and watching the cars behind them suspiciously.

“I don’t think the police are coming,” Violet said as she slowed to a safer speed, adjusting the seat enough for her to reach the pedals. “Sunny, are you okay?”

“Nope,” Sunny babbled. “That sucked.”

Violet nodded as she eased into the driveway of 667 Dark Avenue, taking Sunny as the three of them went to check on Olaf—who had remained suspiciously quiet in the back seat. Klaus opened the back seat, jumping out of the way as the count rolled out, landing spread-eagle on the weed-infested asphalt, groaning his grievances up to an unsympathetic crowd. He soon had no choice but to follow his lackluster wards into the house, frowning in dissatisfaction as Klaus questioned a confession out of the infant.

“Five-finger discount? Really, Olaf?” Klaus spat.

“We would have been fine if she let me replace her diaper bag contents with roast!” the count spewed back, making a face at the stupid nerd as he sauntered into the kitchen, pulling a bag of peas to ice his aching temple with. “And I was going to pay for some of it, thank you very much!”

Violet sighed, rubbing her eyes. She didn’t want to talk or think about the situation anymore. “I’m going to make dinner,” she said, grimacing as she picked up Sunny. “With something.”

“Oh!” the Count exclaimed, digging through his jacket pockets before he brought out a bloody package surrounded by styrofoam and plastic wrap.

“Steaks,” Klaus gasped, as dumbfounded as anyone would be after an afternoon of dodging supermarket security, hot-wiring ones own car, and causing a disturbance to save one’s morally damaged legal guardian, only to discover that the cause of all that trouble was a package of four flimsy, raw steaks that were very much out of budget.

Violet too shared an expression of shock as Count Olaf, smiling as giddily as a young boy who just caught his first fish, held up the steaks like a prize.

“Well, now that I’ve successfully provided for the family–”

Violet had a split second to judge where the four-pack of steaks would land before she launched across the foyer to catch it. She grimaced when the steaks squelched in her palms, the thin layer of plastic the only obstacle between her and the pungent cow blood threatening to ooze through the wrapping.

“I like mine medium rare," Olaf finished as he dropped the back of peas on Sunny's head, waving as he circled the stair banister. "Call me when dinner's ready, thanks!”

The Baudelaires watched as he strutted up the stairs, practically skipping. They shook their heads, too drained to feel anything by half-hearted acceptance, and turned their disgust to the steaks. The meat was warm, and starting to brown after being in Count Olaf’s coat pocket for the past hour.

“He can have mine,” Klaus grimaced.

“Same,” Sunny agreed, regretting her part in tampering with perfectly good food.

“Guess it’s salads all around.” Violet nodded, holding the pack of steaks as far away from her as she led her siblings to the kitchen.

The siblings once again prepared a sustainable meal for themselves and their wayward guardian, basking in the quiet Olaf’s absence afforded. By this point, the early summer sun has left behind splotches of colors as it set for the day and the crickets were starting their evening serenade.

As the Baudelaires set four plates at the grand table and Count Olaf’s footsteps disturbed the raptors above, a strange sense of peace set over the room. The siblings were not afraid of their home. They were together and clothed properly, and they managed to mend holes in the surrounding walls and the man within them. It was far from perfect, but it was theirs.

And it had been Olaf who had called them a family.

[snicketverse-fic-finder]

Some ✨interesting✨ ASOUE ao3 tags :) :

Part 1 bc there are too many to fit in one post-

[drowninginredink]

Hey I finally updated my ASOUE fic! As a reminder, Sunny is now Sorrel (he/she/they) and has been separated from his family for years. They seek out Olaf to help her reunite with them.

“I made us breakfast,” Sorrel said.

Olaf finally seemed to jolt awake and notice that Sorrel had, in fact, been cooking. He stared at the pile for a moment. “Don't you hate me?”

Sorrel waited until Olaf looked back up from the French toast. He wanted to give Olaf a nice, strong glare as he spoke. Maybe if he did, this time it would stick in Olaf's head. “My siblings hate you. I don't remember you. I don't care if you're a good person. I know you're not. I just care if you can find them.”