#could never imagine myself surviving vile academy

[icanteleportnow]

still crazy to me that carmen was 16 when she was in VILE academy. like she should've been worrying about clothes and doing mildly illegal things behind her parents back, NOT evil vocational school 💀

[thecloserkin]

fic rec: Dante’s Stars by Pretani

fandom: A Series of Unfortunate Events

pairing: Violet Baudelaire/Klaus Baudelaire

word count: 94k, complete

Is it canon: Yes

Is it explicit: Yes

Is it endgame: Yes

Is it shippable: I’m fucking crying it’s so beautiful

Bottom line: The one and only Violet/Klaus epic, read it and bawl your eyes out (def read the warnings first tho)

It’s a canon-divergence AU where the Baudelaires stage their own deaths to escape Count Olaf. In canon the three Baudelaire orphans—inventor Violet, bookworm Klaus, and baby Sunny—are hounded from guardian to guardian by cartoonish villain Olaf, who will stop at nothing to get his hands on their fortune. Olaf murders or incapacitates every single adult who spares two seconds of sympathy for these kids, leaving a wide swathe of destruction in his wake. In this fic the Baudelaires have decided to wipe the slate clean and assume new identities.

I have mentioned in the past how salty I am about the Baudelaires’ characters being sidelined for Snicket the narrator, Olaf the villain, and/or sundry other bit-players (in the Netflix show the Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender p much steals every scene they’re in). In canon we’re not really privy to the kids’ inner lives. This fic avoids that pitfall by sticking with tightly focused third-person Violet and Klaus POVs.

The thing this fic does really well is instill a pervasive sense of dread/paranoia which is remarkable because for the first 25% absolutely nothing ominous happens. The orphans get taken in by a slightly addled, very nice old lady and they just … live in her house. For free. While she cooks for them. And every morning Violet and Klaus hook up in her barn.

Ok back up so the ship they’re passengers on goes down in a storm, all hands lost, the Baudelaires are presumed drowned with the rest. Which is positively providential. The first event of any import to occur is that Klaus swipes some cash from a dead man’s wallet. Violet has ethical qualms but Klaus quashes them by pointing out that Sunny’s starving:

”I’d do anything for her,” he said. ���Even become a thief or a murderer.”

Then his dark eyes found Violet’s. “I’d do it for you, too.”

So on the one hand I think this is rather extra. I mean, what possible use could a dead man have had for that money? Money that could put actual food in Sunny’s stomach. The Baudelaires are keenly aware that justice does not equal unquestioning obedience to authority and I think their exposure to a raft of tyrannical and unjust authority figures has hammered that home. They’re down with bending the rules because they know the rules are never even-handedly applied anyway (ie. the show trial at Hotel Denouement, the farcical final exam at Prufrock Academy). On the other hand I remember how uneasy they felt about stealing Hal’s keys in Hostile Hospital, and that was barely a misdemeanor! A friend of mine astutely pointed out how Violet is always trying to behave in any given situation the way their parents would have wished, whereas Klaus takes a pragmatic approach: do whatever keeps his sisters safe. And that is a very interesting contrast and one I want to see explored further.

They get on a train. Things that happen: Klaus notices when Violet is down in the dumps or angry or upset or in this case, wistfully jealous of other people who lead “normal” lives, bustling all around them. He’s not in love with her yet but noticing is the first step. Violet atm is super focused on being the elder sister, the adult in the room, the One In Charge. They get off the train and as soon as they blow into town Violet gets catcalled and propositioned. One of the themes of this fic is the horrendous baseline level of violence against women, some of it normalized and casual like the catcalling. The Big Bad Villain of the piece is literally a guy who’s murdered multiple girlfriends on account of them fridging his ass, since he appears to think that women owe him sex. And this man’s driving ambition is to add Violet to his list of conquests.

So often, men treated her as little more than an object … Klaus was different. He saw her, the woman she was inside.

HOW COULD SHE NOT FALL FOR HIM?? Is there another man she could learn to trust enough to fall in love with? However I’m getting ahead of the story. Klaus is still in the phase where he’s awakening to his attraction to Violet:

She was mother and sister, soft skin and tender strength, and he hid his face in her neck. Like a child, she rocked him gently, cradling his head.

I have to protect her, even if it’s from myself.

He couldn’t take this, his brave, beautiful sister, so near … the knowledge of what those men wanted to do to her. I”ll kill them �� And what he wanted …

God but it kills me, Klaus thinking that his attraction to Violet is as noxious as those vile men and their rapacious stares. Klaus himself otoh is president of the Violet Baudelaire Fan Club. The contrast could not be more marked. Look at him building her up when she’s about ready to to give up on picking a lock because she’s lost her hair ribbon:

”I’m done, Klaus. I don’t have anything else to give”. ”Vi … “ he was pleading, willing her to believe in herself again, because he did. “You’re a brilliant inventor,” he told her. “It’s who you are. Nothing can take that away. You don’t need your ribbon.”

The unwarranted parallel that he draws between himself and a bunch of sexual predators is the source of so much angst and pining:

Is that what I am? A pervert?

She’ll blame herself for this

Well, well, well, if it isn’t ye olde I’m-Leaving-Her-For-Her-Own-Good-Lest-My-Perverted-Attraction-To-Her-Despoil-Her-Innocence. I am absolute trash for it every time, film at 11.

”I love you, Vi … I’m in love with you.” He said it like he was confessing to a crime, and she wanted to scream, to laugh and cry all at once.

THEIR LOVE IS A CRIME!!! Could these babies be more pure??

They’d always had an extraordinary connection. It was the reason for their seamless partnership, their ability to support one another … But now, the bond that had kept them alive was killing him. How could anything ever be right again?

”Vi, I’m sorry … I want to be your brother, but I can’t … I want to be more than that … I don’t know what to do.” ”Kiss me,” she said, “and be both.”

THATS IT THATS A WRAP I CAN NOW DIE HAPPY. That “kiss me and be both” is PERFECTION.

And she knew she’d never willingly give herself to anyone but him.

she’d loved him even then. Who could tell when they had crossed the line? It was already too late.

cross the line what line??? they were made for each other.

”You know, we missed the sunrise,” he said, nose to nose with his sister.

Violet and Klaus carve an extra hour out of their morning to go make out in the barn. I shit you not these kids spend a whole month without progressing past first base because Klaus doesn’t want to “pressure” Violet into anything she’s not ready for. Violet, for her part, is beginning to suspect there’s something wrong with her person; why hasn’t he even tried to take her top off? Thank you #Patriarchy for teaching us that desirability is the measure of a woman’s worth. God they are so thirsty. This bitch almost fell over the first time he touched her tits:

“Vi,” he spoke into her hair, voice breaking. “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me to —“ But she only titled her head, to meet his mouth in a feverish kiss.

So Klaus and Sunny are having a snow fight and Violet tugs her glove off to tousle his hair and it’s THE SEXIEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN BYE. True story after I read this fic I legitimately thought that “Vi” was a pet name Klaus called her by in canon, and when I finally finished the books much much later and realized that it wasn’t—well, it should have been.

There is a fairy tale about a princess who disguises herself in the skin of a donkey to escape the attentions of her lecherous father the king. Violet and Sunny discuss it. Violet points out that rape is wrong because rape is rape, because it is coercive, not because it’s incest. I love it when fic highlights the fairytale parallels to the Baudelaires’ situation, and I feel like Donkeyskin was such a spot-on choice because it’s all about surviving sexual assault and learning to make oneself vulnerable again afterwards? Klaus is the prince who sees through her disguise and falls head over heels in love with her CHANGE MY MIND. On the subject of happily ever after:

”Is that what you think I want? A fairytale? A walk down the aisle in a white dress?" He felt a lump forming in his throat. "Most girls think about those things, don't they?" "I don't," she told him. "I prefer not to. And as for children…well…I love them. That's why I don't want any of my own … how selfish would I be, to bring another little life into this? Another hostage they could use against us. Imagine how awful it would be if…" She shook her head. "No children… not ever. I couldn't protect them." And she turned to him with a soft look. "It's no sacrifice, Klaus. Not for me. I've already been through a… a wedding, you know." He felt her shudder, and she averted her eyes. "I won't be sorry if I never see another wedding dress again."

My dudes, when you have children each and every one of them is a hostage to fortune because of course they are. Also, Violet’s traumatized by the whole idea of being a bride, after going through the wringer of her fake wedding to Olaf. Olaf put Sunny in a cage to compel her compliance, and that’s what the Big Bad in this fic does too. He says things like “You’re a sick little bitch, aren’t you? Spreading your legs for your own brother” which turns their beautiful relationship into this ugly depraved thing to be ashamed of. I mean, this guy was literally a voyeur who would watch them from his hidey-hole while they were being intimate?? My god I would feel so unclean. And the worst part is, he overheard them calling each other by their real names not their aliases, so now he knows who they are and since the Baudelaires are still on the lamb this is bad. It gets pretty dark pretty fast.

“He won't want you anymore! No one's gonna want you when we're done!"

So he kidnaps and rapes Violet. Klaus and Sunny rescue her, dispatch the villain (Klaus’s earlier “I’d do anything” for his sisters, including becoming “a thief or a murderer,” acquires sudden resonance), and that’s when fucking Count Olaf shows up!!!! These kids just cannot catch a break. Turns out the Big Bad was actually working for Count Olaf all along. Olaf’s plan is still the same plan from The Bad Beginning where he plotted to steal the Baudelaire fortune by marrying Violet. Since Count Olaf has never in his life paid a henchman a salary, he was keeping the Big Bad sweet by promising to let him ravish Violet first. Let the full enormity of that sink in. Oh wait a minute Olaf isalso bent on knocking Violet up asap so the union can’t be dissolved on non-consummation grounds, or somesuch:

"You look at me as if I were a usurper, boy, about to steal something of yours. Tell me…" He gestured at Violet. "Is she yours?"

Why would you do this to me??????? This is so, so painful. Olaf uses an electric cattle prod on Klaus and makes Violet watch??? It’s ok though the Baudelaires prevail in the end, and emerge from the bloodstained ordeal as the family they are. My kink will forever be Violet and Klaus praising each other’s bravery and resourcefulness. They! Are! So! Proud! and! Supportive! Of! Each! Other! This line from earlier in the fic gets me every time:

I’ve failed them. This was his greatest fear, worse than death or any torment fate could devise. In his head, he imagined the struggle, saw his girls beaten and shot, felt each blow and bullet as if his own body were the target instead.

Klaus Baudelaire laying down his own body between the world and his sisters is really the only thing I care about:

And then her gaze fell to the marred canvas of his body.

I bet his back is a mess of burn marks ugh. Four weeks after Violet’s discharged from the hospital (practical Violet made sure to get the green light from the medical professionals) they finally have sex again, which is a relief—after the rape they were both hesitant to initiate sex because she thought she was damaged goods and he thought she wanted space? Silly kids. Oh and and here they are being mistaken by strangers for a pair of lovebirds:

One of the women sighed dreamily. "Did you ever see a more likely pair of turtledoves?" "Of course not," Mr. Poe sputtered, dabbing his brow with a handkerchief. "The very idea!" And he excused himself hurriedly, to make some phone calls. "Don't be silly," said the other. "They're siblings. Haven't you heard? … They're the Baudelaire orphans." "Well, I daresay," the first one went on, "anyone would've taken them for sweethearts."

I CANNOT WITH THESE TWO

The Baudelaires finally, finally come into their fortune free and clear. They put on their parents’ wedding rings and move to Canada. A cat (!!!) leaves baby Beatrice II in a basket outside their front door, and that completes their family. Nobody deserves good things more than these kids, and this fic ends exactly where it ought, describing “a rural life of moral simplicity.”

I read this fic years ago and it was w i l d rereading it again, thanks for coming along for the ride. If anyone wants to scream/cry about this fic in particular, or Violet and Klaus in general, feel free to send me an ask or message me ANYTIME

[thinshaded-blog]

A Warlock’s Diary

Magic is terrific. It opens path to new worlds, and can guide you to places you’ve never dreamt of.

Places an orphan like me, among many unwanted children, could only dream of, and only in blurry outlines through the lenses of our imagination, already starting to dull-preemptively so- by the gradual revelation of our own bleak and harsh reality. Every day, a struggle for survival, when survival had no meaning in itself. Nothing would change for the better, not tomorrow, not the day after.

And then, that man came. A tall man in his early fifties, with graying hair, small eyes that never seemed to stay at the same spot for too long, and a small balding starting to form. He gathered many children of my small city, myself among them, and after offering some instructions, he watches us going through a series of hand gestures, exercises, finger and hand movements, voice exercises and small songs…it was an odd, but a fun, different note in the mundane melody of our small lives. He seemed to be drawn to me in particular, and my pointy ears that had been the source of much pain and beatings in the streets. He set out a dozen of us, got us on his cart and we left the city behind.

Left for “a magic school”.

I’ll never forget a single, enchanting word that left his mouth during the journey, as he explained how magic was wonderful, it would allow us, who had been deemed talented enough, “gifted”, to change the world, to command respect, to claim a place in this world. Honey in our starving ears. The trip lasted for five days full of wonder and stories and daydreaming, and those five days were the ones I’ve been the happiest in my life. Nothing beats fake happiness, perfect and idealized.

The sixth day, we met with a rider. A dark figure in a cloak and hood, riding a black mare. The mood changed, and now with calculated, forced cheer, the first man made us go through all the hand gestures we had learned for this rider. We could feel it was important, and many faltered. When it was my turn, halfway through, the man’s voice came, surprisingly high pitched, to shatter my world.

“No half-breeds, Jules. You should know that.”

Within three minutes, I as kneeling at the side of the snowy path-yes, it was a harsh winter that year-, thrown away, crying my eyes out, having vomited just seconds ago. Discarded. I didn’t make the cut. My dream was taken from me. Mixed bloods weren’t allowed in that magic school it seemed. But…I performed better than most of the others! I deserved it..I BELONGED there. It was MINE, magic was for me!

Torn from my city, my roots, my innocence and my illusion of justice existing in this fowl world, I realized I had to claim what was mine. I looked horrible when I managed to reach the next town. There, I sought something with more urgency than food and water, despite my hollow eyes and bony limbs. I had to learn how to read and write! There was a merchant in that town, who was literate enough to perform his bookkeeping on his own and read and write business letters. He offered me some food, never enough to be truly full, a roof over my head, and even taught me how to read and write. He offered me nightmares every night, nightmares oh so real. I was the closest thing to an elf he could get his lustful, vile hands on.

I fled after a year, when I was confident I was literate enough. I wanted to slit his throat in his sleep, but I had become so terrified of him, at a deep, subconscious level, that I shook at the mere thought of it. I just left.

There were a few magic guilds and academies in the northern regions. Some run by men, some by elves, each boasting their own, superior magic. I just wanted some of it, to prove my worth. I knocked on their doors, showing my writing, demonstrating my hand gestures and voice exercises that had set me apart from the others. “Child’s play”, too basic for my age. No real talent. No half breed spies who would rat the magical secrets out to the opposite side. This was my dream! The magic I was promised by that man, the magic that would fix my life! And they wouldn’t let me through their door! I belonged there, why couldn’t they see it? I had sacrificed…so much more than the others…

I’m sure that some day I went insane for a while. After a week of roaming the wilds, weeping, cursing them and myself, it surprisingly went away, like a storm. I became cold, uncaring, empty. Magic was not for me, just a pretty lie, a bait that had brought me nothing but incredible pain. I would walk a different path, and so I did, working as a scribe apprentice for a while. But one night, when I was sent to deliver a letter, I saw something through a half-closed window of a house….a flash of light! I looked inside sneakily. It was dark, but I saw men and women in a dark room. One was standing…performing…No, he was teaching! That flash again! And the others tried to imitate him.

The next moment, I knocked on their door, begging to join. And they allowed me, in exchange for all my measly copper. These people…they were mostly hoaxes. Self taught, or untalented early drop outs of magic guilds at best. But in my eyes, the leader of the house was a god, creating light, mending clothes, even creating fire! This was real magic!

I started training hard, day and night. My hands ached so much from the rigorous exercises and gestures. The man showed us three spells-It was all he knew, all the knowledge that existed in that house. But I was determined to master them, and master them I did!

I progressed much faster than the others, there was a devouring flame burning inside me. It mattered so much more to me. And then…what? I needed more. But there was nothing else for me in that house. After one year of practice, staying there, I had learned all there was to be learned. But there were other houses…sometimes, rarely, people came from other houses to trade knowledge and spells. I did anything I needed oto be offered more knowledge, and while I felt my violated, used body full of toxin, I was rising in power and in ranks.

Soon, I set out to find more such houses, with more spells and knowledge for me. Most of the times, these self taught small timers had nothing of value, nothing I didn’t already know. In this small pond of hoaxes, I was becoming a big shot, full of rage towards the magic guilds hoarding all the knowledge to themselves.

But as the years passed, I dug deeper, much deeper. There are many sources of magical knowledge, apart from the guilds. Commanding power those so called “Wizards” wouldn’t comprehend. As I dug deeper, as I shed more and more of myself in this pursuit, my world darkened. In these houses, I joined rituals I cannot describe, danced and cut myself in ecstasy, chanted the names of demons in delirious state, learned from them, gave myself to whoever demanded it as payment.

True magic is wielded by those who feel pain. I learned that. It is them who feel the surge of emotions welling up inside, who most desperately crave to change reality, to escape it. I know that now. I’ll confess to you…I was always scared of the dark, oh so scared. But these new benefactors offered me a gift, and took the darkness off my eyes. It is inside me now, I fear…so that everything around me seems lighter in comparison.

Even as I stand here, in this cursed land of Arkhaz, cursed by a curse ancient and powerful, fear does not cripple me, darkness doesn’t cloud my gaze. I have been sent here, in my pursuit for magical knowledge and power, and if I succeed….

Magic is terrifying. It opens gates to your worst nightmares, and when I wake up at night, clad in cold sweat and throat sore from the screams, I wish I had never gotten a taste of this life consuming drug.

Just for a moment.

Kwentyn the Warlock