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wits-writing · 4 years ago

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What’s so Funny About Vengeance, the Night, and Batman? – Two Superhero Parodies in Conversation

Back in 2016, the first trailers for Director Chris McKay’s The Lego Batman Movie hit. A spinoff of the take on the iconic hero, voiced by Will Arnett, from 2014’s The Lego Movie. Those trailers spelled out a plot covering how Batman’s life of crimefighting is turned upside down when Robin unexpectedly enters the picture. It was a funny trailer, promising another insightful comedy from the crew behind The Lego Movie. A promise it handily delivered on when it came out in February 2017 with an animated feature steeped wall-to-wall jokes for the sake of mocking Bruce Wayne’s angst filled crusade that can only come from understanding what’s made the character withstand the test of time.

But there was a thought I and others had from seeing that trailer up to watching the actual movie:

“This seems… familiar.”

Holy Musical B@man! is a 2012 fan-made stage production parody of DC Comics’ biggest cash cow. It was produced as the fifth musical from YouTube-based cult phenomenon Starkid Productions, from a book by Matt and Nick Lang, music by Nick Gage and Scott Lamp with lyrics by Gage. The story of the musical details how Robin’s unexpected entrance ends up turning Batman’s (Joe Walker) life of crimefighting upside down. Among Starkids’ fandom derived projects in their early existence, as they’ve mainly moved on to well-received original material in recent years, Holy Musical B@man! is my personal favorite. I go back to it frequently, appreciating it as a fan of both superheroes and musicals. (Especially since good material that touches on both of those isn’t exactly easy to come by. Right, Spider-Man?)

While I glibly summarized the similarities between them by oversimplifying their plots, there’s a lot in the details, both major and minor, that separates how they explore themes like solitude, friendship, love, and what superhero stories mean. It’s something I’ve wanted to dig into for a while and I found a lot in both of them I hadn’t considered before by putting them in conversation. I definitely recommend watching both of them, because of how in-depth this piece goes including discussing their endings. However, nothing I can say will replace the experience of watching them and if I had included everything I could’ve commented on in both of them, this already massive piece would easily be twice as long minimum.

Up front, I want to say this isn’t about comparing The Lego Batman Movie and Holy Musical B@man in terms of quality. Not only are they shaped for vastly different mediums with different needs/expectations, animation versus stagecraft, but they also had different resources at their disposal. Even if both are in some ways riffing on the aesthetic of the 1990s Batman movies and the Adam West TV show, Lego Batman does it with the ability to make gorgeously animated frames packed to the brim with detail while Holy Musical often leans into its low-fi aesthetic of characters miming props and sets to add extra humor. They’re also for different audiences, Lego Batman clearly for all-ages while Holy Musical has the characters cursing for emphasis on a regular basis. On top of those factors, after picking through each of these for everything worth commenting on that I could find, I can’t say which I wholly prefer thanks in part to these fundamental differences.

This piece is more about digging through the details to explore the commonalities, differences, and what makes them effective mocking love letters to one of the biggest superheroes in existence.

(Also, since I’m going to be using the word “Batman” a lot, I’ll be calling Lego Batman just “Batman” and referring to the version from Holy Musical as “B@man”, with the exception of quoted dialogue.)

[Full Piece Under the Cut]

Setting the Tone

The beginning is, in fact, a very good place to start when discussing how these parodies frame their versions of the caped crusader. Each one uses a song about lavishing their respective Batmen with praise about how they are the best superheroes ever and play over sequences of the title hero kicking wholesale ass. A key distinction comes in who’s singing each song. Holy Musical B@man’s self-titled opening number is sung from the perspective of an omniscient narrator recounting B@man’s origin and later a chorus made up of the Gotham citizenry. Meanwhile, “Who’s the (Bat) Man” from Lego Batman is a brag-tacular song written by Batman about himself, even playing diegetically for all his villains to hear as he beats them up.

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Holy Musical opens on a quick recap of Batman’s origin:

“One shot, Two shots in the night and they’re gone And he’s all left alone He’s just one boy Two dead at his feet and their blood stains the street And there’s nothing, no there’s nothing he can do!”

We then get a Bat-dance break as the music goes from slow and moody to energetic to reflect Batman turning that tragedy into the driving force behind his one-man war on crime. Assured by the narrator that he’s “the baddest man that there’s ever been!” and “Now there’s nothing, no there’s nothing he can’t do!” flipping the last lyric of the first verse. For the rest of the opening scene the lyrics matter less than what’s happening to establish both this fan-parody’s version of Batman and how the people of Gotham (“he’ll never refuse ‘em”) view him.

Lego Batman skips the origin recap, and in general talks around the death of the Waynes to keep the light tone going since it’s still a kids movie about a popular toy even if there are deeper themes at play. Instead, it continues a trend The Lego Movie began for this version of the character writing music about how he’s an edgy, dark, awesome, cool guy. While that movie kept it to Batman angry-whiteboy-rapping about “Darkness! NO PARENTS!”, this one expands to more elaborate boasts in the song “Who’s the (Bat) Man” by Patrick Stump:

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“In the darkest night I make the bad guys fall There’s a million heroes But I’m the best of them all!”

Batman singing this song about himself, as opposed to having it sung by others aims the crosshairs of parody squarely on the hero’s ego. His abilities make fighting his villains effortless, like this opening battle is more an opportunity to perform the song than a life-or-death struggle. Even Joker’s aware of that as he shouts, “Stop him before he starts singing!” This Batman doesn’t see himself as missing out on anything in life, even if he still feels that deep down. Being Batman is the coolest thing in the world that anyone would envy. He’s Batman, therefore everyone should envy him.

The songs aren’t only part of the equation for how these two works’ opening scenes establish their leading hero. While both songs are about Batman being cool, they’re separated by the accompanying scenes. Lego Batman keep the opening within the Joker’s perspective until Batman shows up and the action kicks in. Once it does, we’re shown a Batman at the top of his solo-hero game. Meanwhile, Holy Musical’s opening is about B@man building his reputation and by the end of the song he has all the citizens of Gotham singing his praises with the titular lyrics. Both are about being in awe of the title hero, one framed by Joker’s frustration at Batman’s ease in foiling his schemes yet again and the other about the people of Gotham growing to love their city’s hero (probably against their better judgement.)

That’s woven into the fabric of what kind of schemes Batman is foiling in each of these. Joker’s plan to bomb Gotham with the help of every supervillain in Batman’s Rogues Gallery is hilariously high stakes and the type of plan most Batman stories, even parodies, would save for the climax. Neatly exemplified by how that’s almost the exact structure of Holy Musical’s final showdown. Starting with these stakes works as an extension of this Batman’s nature as a living children’s toy and therefore the embodiment of a child’s idea of what makes Batman cool, his ability to wipe the floor with anyone that gets in his way “because he’s Batman.” It also emphasizes Joker as the only member of the Rogues Gallery that matters to Lego Batman’s story, every other Bat-villain is either a purely visual cameo or only gets a couple lines maximum.

The crime’s being stopped by B@man are more in the “Year One” gangster/organized crime category rather than anything spectacle heavy. Though said crimes are comically exaggerated:

Gangster 1: Take these here drugs, put ‘em into them there guns, and then hand ‘em out to those gamblin’ prostitutes! Gangster 2: Should we really be doing these illegal activities? In a children’s hospital for orphans?

These fit into that model of crime the Dark Knight fights in his early days and add tiny humanizing moments between the crooks (“Oh, Matches! You make me laugh like nobody else!”) in turn making the arrival of B@man and the violence he deals out a stronger punchline. Further emphasized by the hero calling out the exact physical damage he does with each hit before warning them to never do crime again saying, “Support your families like the rest of us! Be born billionaires!” Later in the song his techniques get more extreme and violence more indiscriminate, as he uses his Bat-plane to patrol and gun down whoever he sees as a criminal, including a storeowner accidentally taking a single dollar from his own register. (“God’s not up here! Only Batman!”)

A commonality between these two openings is how Commissioner Jim Gordon gets portrayed. Both are hapless goofs at their core, playing more on the portrayal of the character in the 60s TV show and 90s Burton/Schumacher movies than the serious-minded character present in comics, Nolan’s Dark Knight Trilogy, and other adaptations. Lauren Lopez’s portrayal in Holy Musical gets overwhelmed by everything thrown at him, eventually giving up and getting out of B@man’s way (“I’m not gonna tell Batman what to do! He’s Batman!”) Hector Elizondo’s Gordon in Lego Batman clearly reached the “stay out of Batman’s way” point a long time ago, happy to have “the guy who flips on the Bat-signal” be his sole defining trait. While the characterizations are close, their roles do end up differing. Lopez’s Gordon sticks around to have a few more comedic scenes as the play goes on, where Elizondo’s exist to set up a contrast with his daughter Barbara and her way of approaching Batman when she becomes Police Commissioner.

These opening sequences both end in similar manners as well; the citizens of Gotham lavishing praise on their respective Batmen and a confrontation between Batman and the Joker. Praise from the citizenry in Holy Musical comes on the heels of a letter from B@man read out on the news about how much they and the city of Gotham suck. They praise B@man for his angsty nature as a “dark hero” and how they “wouldn’t want him any other way!”, establishing the motif of Gotham’s citizens in Holy Musical as stand-ins for the Batman fandom. Lego Batman uses the praise of the Gotham citizens after Batman’s victory in the opening scene as a lead in to contrast their certainty that Batman must have an exciting private life with the reality we’re shown. Which makes sense since Lego-Batman’s relationship to the people of Gotham is never presented as something at stake.

Greater contrast comes in how the confrontations with the Joker are handled, Lego Batman has an argument between the hero and villain that’s intentionally coded as relationship drama, Batman saying “There is no ‘us’” when Joker declares himself Batman’s greatest enemy. The confrontation in Holy Musical gets purposefully underplayed as an offstage encounter narrated to the audience as a Vicki Vale news report. This takes Joker off the board for the rest of the play in contrast to the Batman/Joker relationship drama that forms one of Lego Batman’s key pillars. While they take different forms, the respective citizenry praise and villain confrontation parts of these openings lead directly into the number one common thematic element between these Bat-parodies: Batman’s loneliness.

One is the Darkest, Saddest, Loneliest Number

Batman as an isolated hero forms one of the core tenants of the most popular understanding of the character. Each of these parodies picks at that beyond the broody posturing. There’s no dedicated segment in this piece about how these works’ versions of the title character function bleeds into every other aspect of them, but each starts from the idea of Batman as a man-child with trouble communicating his emotions. Time’s taken to give the audience a view of where their attitudes have left them early in the story.

Both heroes show their loneliness through interactions with their respective Alfreds. Holy Musical has the stalwart butler, played by Chris Allen, try to comfort B@man by asking if he has any friends he enjoys being around. When B@man cites Lucius Fox as a friend he calls him right away, only to discover Lucius Fox is Alfred’s true identity and Alfred Pennyworth was an elaborate ruse he came up with to protect Bruce on his father’s wishes. Ironically, finding out his closest friend was living a double life causes Bruce to push Alfred away (the play keeps referring to him as Alfred after this, so that’s what I’m going to do as well.) After he’s fired he immediately comes back in a new disguise as “O’Malley the Irish Butler” (same outfit he wore before but with a Party City Leprechaun hat.) That’s unfortunately the start of a running gag in Holy Musical that ends up at the worst joke in the play, when Alfred disguises himself as “Quon Li the Chinese Butler” doing an incredibly cringeworthy “substituting L’s for R’s” bit with his voice. It’s been my least favorite bit in the play since I first saw it in 2012 and legitimately makes me hesitate at times to recommend it. Even if it’s relatively small bit and the rest holds ups.

That disclaimer out of the way, that conversation between B@man and Alfred leads into the title hero reflecting on his sadness through the musical’s I Want Song, “Dark, Sad, Lonely Knight.” The song’s split into two halves, the first Alfred reflecting on whether he played a part in Bruce’s current condition and the second B@man longing for a connection. The song does a good job balancing between the sincerity over the hero’s sadness and getting good laughs out of it:

“Think of the children Next time you gun down the mama and papa Their only mama and papa Because they probably don’t have another mama and papa!”

The “I Want” portion of the song coming in the end with the repetition of the lryics “I want to be somebody’s buddy.”

Rather than another song number, Lego Batman covers Batman’s sadness through a pair of montages and visual humor. The first comes after the opening battle, where we see Batman taking off all his costume except for the mask hanging out alone in Wayne Manor, showing how little separation he puts between identities. Compared to Holy Musical where the equivalent scene is the first we see of Bruce without the mask on, which may come down to practicality since anyone who’s worn a mask like that knows they get hot and sweaty fast. Batman is constantly made to appear small among the giant empty rooms of his estate as he eats dinner, jams on his guitar, and watches romantic movies alone.

Ralph Fienne’s Alfred coming in at the end of this sequence witnessing Batman looking at a photo of himself as a boy with his parents for the last time. Alfred outlines Batman’s fear of being part of a family again only to be met with Batman denying he has any feelings ever. Pennyworth’s role as a surrogate father gets put into greater focus here than in Holy Musical, as we get glimpses of Alfred reading a book titled “How to Deal with Your Out-of-Control Child.” Also shown in smaller scenes of Alfred dealing with Batman’s insistent terminology for his crime fighting equipment, like calling his cowl an “armored face disguise.”

Batman’s denial of his pain contrasts how B@man wallows in it. Though he’s forced to confront it a little as the Joker’s plan ends up leaving him with no crimefighting to fall back on to ignore his issues. This montage gets set to the song “One” by Harry Nilsson and details Batman, unable to express his true feelings, eventually letting them out in the form of tempter tantrums. There’s also some humor through juxtaposition as Batman walks solemnly through the streets of Gotham City, rendered black and white, as the citizens chant “No more crime!” in celebration, while flipping over cars and firing guns into the air.

A disruption to their loneliness eventually comes in the form of a sensational character find.

Robin – The Son/BFF Wonder

Between both Bat-parodies, the two Robins’ characterizations are as close as anyone’s between them. Each is nominally Dick Grayson but are ultimately more representative of the idea of Robin as the original superhero sidekick and his influence on Batman’s life. The play and movie also both make the obvious jokes about Dick’s name and the classic Robin costume’s lack of pants at different points. Dick’s origin also gets sidestepped in each version to skip ahead to the part where he starts being an influence in Batman’s life.

Robin’s introduction to the comics in Detective Comics #38 in 1940, marking the start of Batman’s literal “Year Two” as a character, predating the introduction of Joker, Catwoman, and Alfred, among others. Making him Batman’s longest lasting ally in the character’s history. His presence and acrobatics shift the tone by adding a dash of swashbuckling to Batman’s adventures, inspired by the character’s namesake Robin Hood, though both parodies take a page out of Batman Forever and associate the name with the bird for the sake of a joke. Robin is as core to Batman as his origin, but more self-serious adaptations (i.e., the mainstream cinematic ones that were happening around the times both Holy Musical and Lego Batman came out) tend to avoid the character’s inclusion. These two works being parody, therefore anything but self-serious, give themselves permission to examine why Robin matters and how different characters react to his presence. Rejection of Robin as a character and concept comes out in some form in each of these works, from Batman himself in Lego Batman and the Gotham citizens in Holy Musical.

The chain of events that lead to Dick becoming Robin in Lego Batman are a string of consequences for Batman’s self-absorption. A scene of Bruce barely listening as Dick asks for advice on getting adopted escalating to absentmindedly signing the adoption paperwork. Batman doesn’t realize he has a son until after his sadness montage. Alfred forces Batman to start interacting with Dick against his will. The broody loner wanting nothing to do with the cheery kid, played to “golly gee gosh” perfection by Michael Cera, until he sees the utility of him. Batman doesn’t even have the idea to give Robin a costume or codename because he clearly views the sidekick’s presence as a temporary measure for breaking into Superman’s fortress, made clear by how he lists “expendable” as a quality Dick needs if he wants to go on a mission.

This makes Robin the catalyst for Batman’s shifting perspective throughout Lego Batman. When Robin succeeds in his first mission, the Dark Knight is hesitant to truly compliment him and chalks up his ward’s feats to “unbelievable obeying.” Other moments have Robin’s presence poke holes in Batman’s tough guy demeanor, like the first time Batman and Robin ride in the Bat-mobile together, Robin asks where the seatbelts are and Batman growls “Life doesn’t give you seatbelts!”, only for Batman to make a sudden stop causing Robin to hit his head on the windshield and Batman genuinely apologizes. They share more genuine moments together as the film goes, like Batman suggesting they beatbox together to keeps their spirits up after they’ve been imprisoned for breaking into Arkham Asylum. Robin’s representative of Batman gradually letting people in throughout these moments.

On the exact opposite end of the spectrum, B@man needs zero extra prompting to let Robin into his life. Nick Lang’s Robin (henceforth called “Rob!n” to keep with this arbitrary naming scheme I’ve concocted) does get brought into his life by Alfred thanks to a personal ad (“‘Dog for sale’? No… ‘Orphan for sale’! Even better!”) but it’s a short path to B@man deciding to let Dick fight alongside him. The briefest hesitance on the hero’s part, “To be Batman… is to be alone”, is quelled by Rob!n saying “We could be alone… together.” Their first scene together quickly establishing the absurd sincerity exemplified by this incarnation of the Dynamic Duo. An energy carried directly into the Act 1 closing number, “The Dynamic Duet”, a joyful ode between the heroes about how they’re “Long lost brothers who found each other” sung as they beat up supervillains (and the occasional random civilian.)

That song also ties into the contrast between the Batman/Robin dynamic and the B@man/Rob!n one. While Holy Musical is portraying a brotherly/BFF bond between the two heroes, Lego Batman leans into the surrogate son angle. While both are mainly about their stories’ Batman being able to connect with others, the son angle of Lego Batman adds an additional layer of “Batman needs to take responsibility for himself and others” and a parallel to Alfred as Batman’s own surrogate father. It also adds to the queer-coding of Batman in Lego Batman as Batman’s excuse to Robin for why he can go on missions is that Bruce and he are sharing custody, Robin even calling Batman’s dual identities “dads” before he knows the truth.

In the absence of the accepting personal responsibility through fatherhood element, the conflict Rob!n brings out in Holy Musical forms between B@man and the citizens of Gotham. “Citizens as stand-ins for fandom” is at it’s clearest here as the Act 2 opener is called “Robin Sucks!” featuring the citizens singing about how… well, you read the title. Their objections to Rob!n’s existence has nothing to do with what the young hero has done or failed to do, but come from arguments purely about the aesthetic of Rob!n fighting alongside B@man. Most blatantly shown by one of the citizens wearing a Heath Ledger Joker t-shirt saying Rob!n’s presence “ruins the gritty realism of a man who fights crime dressed as a bat.” It works as the Act 2 opener by establishing that B@man and the citizens conflicting opinions on his sidekick end up driving that half of the story, exemplified in B@man’s complete confusion about why people hate Rob!n (“Robin ruined Batman? But that’s not true… Robin make Batman happy.”)

Both Robins play into the internal conflict their respective mentors are going through, but what would a superhero story, even a parody, be without some colorful characters to provide that sweet external conflict.

Going Rogue

Both works have the threat comes from an army of villains assembled under a ringleader, Zach Galifianakis’s Joker in Lego Batman and Jeff Blim as Sweet Tooth in Holy Musical. Both lead the full ensemble of Batman’s classic (and not so classic) Rogues at different points. As mentioned before Joker starts Lego Batman with “assemble the Rogues, blow up Gotham” as his plan, while Sweet Tooth with his candy prop comedy becoming the ringleader of Gotham’s villains is a key turning point in Act 1 of the play. Part of this comes down to how their connections to their respective heroes and environments are framed, Sweet Tooth as a new player on the scene and Joker as Batman’s romantic foil.

Lego Batman demonstrates Batman and Joker are on “finishing each other’s sentences” levels of intimate that Batman refuses to acknowledge. Shown best in how Joker’s plan only works because he can predict exactly how Batman will act once he starts playing hard to get. When he surrenders the entire Rogues Gallery (without telling them) and himself to police custody, he describes it as him being “off the market.” He knows Batman won’t settle for things ending on these terms and tricks the hero into stealing Superman’s Phantom Zone projector so he can recruit a new, better team of villains for a take two of his masterplan from the start. Going through all this trouble to get Batman to say those three magic words; “I love hate you.” Joker as the significant other wanting his partner to finally reciprocate his feelings and commit works both as a play on how the Batman/Joker relationship often gets approached and an extension of the central theme. Batman is so closed off to interpersonal connections he can’t even properly hate his villains.

Sweet Tooth, while clearly being a riff Heath Ledger and Caesar Romero’s Jokers fused with a dash of Willy Wonka, doesn’t have that kind of connection with B@man. Though there are hints that B@man and his recently deceased Joker may have had one on that level. He laments “[Joker]’s in heaven with mom and dad. Making them laugh, I know it!” when recalling how the Clown Prince of Crime was the one person he enjoyed being around. This makes Joker’s death one of the key triggers to B@man reflecting on his solitude at the start of the play.

What Sweet Tooth provides the story is a threat to B@man’s new bond with Rob!n. Disrupting that connection forms the delicious center of the Candy King of Crime’s plan in Act 2. He holds Rob!n and Gotham’s people hostage and asks the citizens to decide via Facebook poll if the sidekick lives or dies (in reference to the infamous phone hotline vote from the comic book story A Death in the Family where readers could decide the Jason Todd Robin’s fate.)

With the rest of the villains under the leadership of the respective works’ main antagonists, there’s commentary on their perceived quality as threats. When Holy Musical has Superman talking to Green Lantern about how much B@man’s popularity frustrates him, he comes down especially hard on the Caped Crusader’s villains. Talking about how they all coast by on simple gimmicks with especially harsh attention given to Two Face’s being “the number two.” Saying they’re only famous because B@man screws up and they get to do more damage. Which he compares to his own relationship with his villains:

Superman: You ever heard of Mr. Mxyzptlk? Green Lantern: No. Superman: No, that’s right! That’s because I do my job!

Lego Batman has commentary on the other villains come from Joker, recognizing that even all together they can never beat Batman, because that’s how a Batman story goes. The other villains get portrayed as generally buffoonish, struggling to even build a couch together and described by Joker as “losers dressed in cosplay.” Tricking Batman into sending him to the Phantom Zone provides him the opportunity to gather villains from outside Batman’s mythos and outside DC Comics in general. Recruiting the likes of Sauron, King Kong, Daleks, Agent Smith from The Matrix, and the Wicked Witch of the West, among others. When I first saw and reviewed The Lego Batman Movie, this bugged me because it felt like a missed opportunity to feature lesser-known villains from other DC heroes’ Rogues Galleries. Now, considering the whole movie as meta-commentary on the status of this Batman as a children’s toy, it makes perfect sense that Joker would need to go outside of comics to break the rules of a typical Batman story and have a shot at winning.

The Rogues of Holy Musical get slightly more of a chance to shine, if only because their song “Rogues are We” is one of the catchier tracks from the play. They’re all still more cameo than character when all’s said and done, but Sweet Tooth entering the picture is about him recognizing their potential to operate as a unit, takeover Gotham, and kill B@man. The candy-pun flinging villain wants all of them together, no matter their perceived quality.

Sweet Tooth: “We need every villain in Gotham. Cool themes, lame themes, themes that don’t match their powers, even the villains that take their names from public domain stories.” (Two Face’s “broke ass” still being the exception.)

Both Joker and Sweet Tooth provide extensions of the shared theme of Batman dealing with the new connections in his life, especially with regards to Robin. However, Robin isn’t the only other ally (or potential ally) these Dark Knights have on their side.

Super Friends(?)

The internal crisis of these Caped Crusaders come as much from how they react to other heroic figures as it does from supervillainous machinations. In both cases how Batman views and is viewed by fellow heroes gets centered on a specific figure, Superman in Holy Musical and Commissioner Barbara Gordon (later Batgirl) in Lego Batman. Each serves a vastly different purpose in the larger picture of their stories and relationship to their respective Batmen. Superman reflecting B@man’s loneliness and Barbara symbolizing a new path forward for Batman’s hero work.

Superman’s role in Holy Musical runs more parallel to Lego Batman’s Joker than Barbara. Brian Holden’s performance as the Man of Tomorrow plays into a projected confidence covering anxiety that nobody likes him. Besting the Bat-plane in a race during B@man’s Key to the City ceremony establishes a one upmanship between the two heroes, like Joker’s description of his relationship with Batman at the end of Lego Batman’s opening battle. Though instead of that romantically coded relationship from Lego Batman, this relationship is more connected to childish jealousy. (But if you do want to read the former into Holy Musical B@man, neither hero has an onstage relationship with any woman and part of their eventual fight consist of spanking each other.)

B@man and Superman’s first real interaction is arguing over who’s the cooler hero until it degrades into yelling “Fuck you!” at each other. B@man storming off in the aftermath of that gets topped off by Superman suggesting he should get the Key to the City instead, citing his strength and longer tenure as a hero (“The first hero, by the way”) as justifications. This only results in the Gotham citizens turning on him for suggesting their city’s hero is anything less than the best, which serves both as a Sam Raimi Spider-Man reference (“You mess with one of us! You mess with all of us!”) and another example of the citizens as stand-ins for fandom. Superman’s veil of cocksureness comes off quickly after that and stays off for the rest of the play. Starting with his conversation with Green Lantern where a civilian comes across them, but barely acts like Superman’s there.

One of the play’s running gags is Superman calling B@man’s number and leaving messages, showing a desperation to reach out and connect with his fellow hero despite initial smugness. Even before the first phone call scene, we see Superman joining B@man to sing “I want to be somebody’s buddy” during “Dark, Sad, Lonely Knight” hinting at what’s to come. The note it consistently comes back to is that Superman’s jealousy stems from Batman’s popularity over him. This is a complete flip of what Lego Batman does with the glimpse at a Batman/Superman dynamic we see when Batman goes to the Superman’s fortress to steal the Phantom Zone projector. The rivalry dynamic there exists solely in Batman’s head, Lego-Superman quickly saying “I would crush you” when Batman suggests the idea of them fighting. Superman’s status among the other DC heroes is also night and day between these works. Where Lego-Superman’s only scene in the movie shows him hosting the Justice League Anniversary Party and explaining he “forgot” to invite Batman, Superman in Holy Musical consistently lies about having friends over (“All night long I’m busy partying with my friends at the Fortress… of Solitude.”)

Superman’s relationship to B@man in Holy Musical develops into larger antagonism thanks to lack of communication with B@man brushing off Supes’ invitations to hang out and fight bad guys (“Where were you for the Solomon Grundy thing? Ended up smaller than I thought, just a couple of cool guys. Me and… Solomon Grundy.”) His own loneliness gets put into stronger focus when he sees the news of Rob!n’s debut as a crimefighter, which makes him reflect on how he misses having Krypto the Super-Dog around. (The explanation for why he doesn’t have his dog anymore is one of my favorite jokes in the play and I won’t ruin it here.)

Where Superman’s a reflection of B@man’s loneliness, Rosario Dawson as Barbara in Lego Batman is a confrontation of Batman’s go it alone attitude. Her job in the story is to be the one poking holes in the foundation of Batman as an idea, starting with her speech at Jim Gordon’s retirement banquet and her instatement as commissioner. She has a by-the-book outlook on crimefighting with the omnicompetence to back it up, thanks to her training at “Harvard for Police.” Babs sees Batman’s current way of operating as ineffectual and wants him to be an official agent of the law. An idea that dumps a bucket of cold water on Batman’s crush he developed immediately upon seeing her, though that never fully goes away.

Her main point is that Batman “karate chopping poor people” hasn’t made Gotham better in his 80 years of operating. A contrast to Holy Musical’s Jim Gordon announcing that B@man has brought Gotham’s crime rates to an all-time low (“Still the highest in the world, but we’re working on it.”) She wants to see a Batman willing to work with other people. A hope dashed constantly dealing with his childish stubbornness as he tries to foil Joker’s schemes on his own, culminating in her arresting Batman and Robin for breaking into Arkham to send Joker to the Phantom Zone.

Barbara’s role as the one bringing grown-up attitudes and reality into Batman’s world does leave her in the role of comedic straight woman. Humor in her scenes comes from how she reacts to everyone else’s absurdity rather than anything she does to be funny. This works for the role she plays in Lego Batman, since she’s not there to have an arc the way Superman does in Holy Musical. She’s another catalyst for Batman’s to start letting people in as another character he grows to care about. Which starts after she lets the Dynamic Duo out of prison to fight Joker’s new army of Phantom Zone villains on the condition that he plays it by her rules. Leading to a stronger bond between Batman, Robin, Alfred, and her as they start working together.

The two Batmen’s relationships to other heroes, their villains, Robin, and their own solitude each culminate in their own way as their stories reach their conclusions.

Dark Knights & Dawning Realizations

As everything comes down to the final showdowns in these Bat-parodies, the two Caped Crusaders each confront their failures to be there for others and allow themselves to be vulnerable to someone they’ve been antagonizing throughout the story. Each climax has all of Gotham threatened by a bomb and the main villains’ plans coming to fruition only to come undone.

Holy Musical has Sweet Tooth’s kidnapping of Rob!n and forcing Gotham to choose themselves or the sidekick they hate sends B@man into his most exaggerated state in the entire play. It’s the classic superhero movie climax conundrum, duty as a hero versus personal attachment. Alfred, having revealed himself as the “other butlers”, even lampshades how these stories usually go only for that possibility to get shot down by Bruce:

Alfred: A true hero, Master Wayne, finds a way to choose both. B@man: You’re right, Alfred. I know what I have to do… Fuck Gotham, I’m saving Robin!

B@man’s selfishness effectively makes him the real villain of Holy Musical’s second act. Lego Batman has shades of that aspect as well, where Batman gets sent to the Phantom Zone by Joker for his repeated refusal to acknowledge their relationship. Where the AI running the interdimensional prison, Phyllis voiced by Ellie Kemper, confronts him with the way he’s treated Robin, Alfred, Barbara, and even Joker:

Phyllis: You’re not a traditional bad guy, but you’re not exactly a good guy either. You even abandoned your friends. Batman: No! I was trying to protect them! Phyllis: By pushing them away? Batman: Well… yeah. Phyllis: Are they really the ones you’re protecting?

Batman watches what’s happening back in Gotham and sees Robin emulate his grim and gritty tendencies to save the day in his absence makes him desperately scream, “Don’t do what I would do!” It’s the universe rubbing what a jerk he’s been in his face. He’s forced to take a look at himself and make a change. B@man’s not made to do that kind of self-reflection until after he’s defeated Sweet Tooth but failed to stop the villain’s bomb. He’s ready to give up on Gotham forever and leave with Rob!n, until his sidekick pulls up Sweet Tooth’s poll and it shows the unanimous result in favor of saving the Boy Wonder. Despite everything they said at the start of Act 2, the people want to help their hero in return for all the times he helped them. All of them calling back to the Raimi Spider-Man reference from Act 1, “You mess with one of us. You mess with all of us.”

Both heroes’ chance at redemption and self-improvement comes from opening themselves up to the people they pushed out and dismissed earlier in their stories. Batman takes on the role he reduced the Commissioner down to at the beginning of the movie and flips on signals for Barbara, Alfred, and Robin to show how he’s truly prepared to work as a team, not just with his friends and family but with the villains of Gotham the Joker pushed aside as well. Teamwork makes the dream work and they’re all able to work together to get Joker’s army back into the Phantom Zone but like in Holy Musical they fail to stop the bomb threatening Gotham. Which he can only prevent from destroying the city by confessing his true feeling to Joker

Batman: If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have learned how connected I am with all of these people and you. So, if you help me save Gotham, you’ll help me save us. Joker: You just said “us?” Batman: Yeah, Batman and the Joker. So, what do you say? Joker: You had me at “shut up!”

The equivalent moment from Holy Musical comes from B@man needing to put aside his pride and encourage a disheartened Superman to save Gotham for him. This happens in the aftermath of a fight the two heroes had where Superman tried to stop B@man before he faced Sweet Tooth, B@man winning out through use of kryptonite. That fight doesn’t fit into any direct parallel with Lego Batman, but it is important context for how Superman’s feeling about B@man before Superman finally gets his long-awaited phone call from the Dark Knight. Also, the song accompanying the fight, “To Be a Man”, is one of the funniest scenes in the play. What this speech from B@man does is bring the idea of Holy Musical B@man as a commentary on fandom full circle:

B@man: I forgot what it means to be a superhero. But we’re really not that different, you and me, at our heart. I mean really all superheroes are pretty much the same… Something bad happened to us once when we were young, so we dedicated our whole lives to doing a little bit of good. That’s why we got into this crazy superhero business. Not to be the most popular, or even the most powerful. Because if that were the case, hell, you’d have the rest of us put out of a job!

This speech extends into an exchange between the heroes about how superheroes are cool, not despite anything superficially silly but because of it. Bringing it back to the “Robin Sucks!” theme that started Act 2, saying “Some people think Robin is stupid. But those people are pretentious douchebags. Because, literally, the only difference between Robin and me is our costumes.” The speech culminates in what I genuinely think is one of the best Batman lines ever written, as B@man’s final plea to Superman is “Where’s that man who’s faster than a gun?” calling back to the trauma that created Batman across all versions and what he can see in someone like Superman. So, B@man sacrificing his pride and fully trusting in another hero saves Gotham, the way Batman letting Joker know what their relationship means to him did in Lego Batman.

Each of these parodies ends by delivering a Batman willing to open himself up to a new team of heroes fighting at his side, the newly minted Bat-Family in Lego Batman and the league for justice known as the Super Friends in Holy Musical. Putting them side by side like this shows how creators don’t need the resources of a Hollywood studio to make something exactly as meaningful and how the best parodies come from love of the material no matter who’s behind them.

If you like what you’ve read here, please like/reblog or share elsewhere online, follow me on Twitter (@WC_WIT), and consider throwing some support my way at either Ko-Fi.com or Patreon.com at the extension “/witswriting”

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thesolotomyhan · 4 years ago

Text

Narcos México: Dating them would include: (3/7)

In the end, Chapito won the vote so imma just leave this here, the next headcannon shouldn’t take long to come out since I already have it done! I hope I did My Chapito justice in this! Enjoy ❤️

Warnings: NSFW!

Tags: @visintaes

Let me know if you want to be added in future posts☺️

Chapo:

Chapito🥺,,, he’s an old school type of guy ok

He was taught to respect women, you can tell that by the way he is with his mother

He’s really, and I mean really, romantic with you

Uggh, I go soft just thinking about Chapito

He wasn’t necessarily nervous when asking you out for your first date, because I can definitely see that you guys were close friends

So he had no sweat when asking if you wanted to go see a movie or something..

The only thing he did seem to worry about was thinking that maybe you were going to reject him and he didn’t want to lose your friendship,,,

Oh god, can you see the smile that shows up on his face when you tell him yes without hesitation🥺

Such a pure ass and loving relationship

And the definition of what a gentleman is

He always wants to make you happy and he wants to be the reason for that feeling

Always buying you antojitos on the way to see you or if you’re both just walking down to the streets of Sinaloa

Dates in his hometown, just hear me out, he loves showing you what he grew up around and what he would do

He would be presenting you to everyone he knows with a proud ass smile as he holds your hand

“Te presento a mi futura esposa”🥺

And All the time, whenever he’s with you, he has his arm slinged around your shoulders because it’s easier to kiss your head

I feel like he prefers to give you small pecks on your lips and your temple in public, it’s such a soft gesture- ughh

But he also loves to just gently grab your face and kiss you before he has to go work

“Te amo, mi vida, cuidate, y llámame si ocupas algo.” Such a worried bby, I’m dying

On your dates, he pulling as much details as he can, like decorating the place really nice, getting you a nice bouquet of flowers and about 95% of the time he’s giving you something his mom sent him with

His mother ADORES you, I repeat, just absolutely adores you, she believes that Chapo scored the lottery with you and you can’t tell me otherwise that she will defend you

I just wow- she sends things she knows you’ll like with Chapo when he goes to see you

I can just see that he’s in a rush to go pick you up for your anniversary date, like he’s already running out the door when his mom calls out to him

“Mijo, espera, ten, llevale esto para mi nuera”

“Pero ma, ya le lleve un regalo ayer”

“Y que tiene? Dile que se los hice con mucho amor, para hoy”

I can’t-

That being said, Cochi is also cheering you guys on from the sidelines, even when he third wheels all the time with you guys

I can just see the time Miguel was throwing his birthday party, Cochi is scoffing in the back of the car because he’s the only one who didn’t bring a date

“Podrían haberme dicho que iban a traer a sus mujeres, me hubiera quedado en la casa”

“Pues, no chingues Cochi, esto es el amor verdadero, algo que tu no entiendes”

The banter between y’all is what I live for

But he low key enjoys being the single funny friend in his eyes

He also just loves seeing his carnal, Chapo being happy with you, someone he’s known and cared for like a younger sister

So, Chapo is always inviting you to come to parties with him because he gets to show you off

And he also really enjoys being around the people he considers his family

You can’t tell me this man will not whisper jokes to you and Cochi about the Arellanos,

Chapo loves seeing you laugh at his jokes and how he’ll bully and get on the Arellano-Felix's nerves

I just know that Chapo would be one to just drag them about how he has no vergüenza bringing his mujer to parties unlike them,,

he has that smile on his face because he just knows he’s getting the rise out of them

Chapito always has you basically squished into his side when you’re sitting down, it makes him feel safe that you’re right at his side and in arms reach

I’m screeching, can you imagine dancing banda with this man🥺

“Vente, vamos a bailar, mi amor”

The way he fucking holds you as he gets carried away with you in his arms- I can’t

I can see Cochi yelling something like

“Que vivan los novios!” Because you know he would, escandaloso el cabrón

just Couple Goals!

You know that time Güero told Chapito he’s not an idea kind of guy when he mentioned building a tunnel

I feel like after that, Chapo would come home to you and just bury himself into your neck,

He would then tell you what happened and how disappointed he was

but you just grab his cheeks and tell him to go for it, prove hector wrong

Because like, cmon that’s hella smart that Chapo would think about building tunnels to transport things

God, you’re his #1 fan and always pushing him to follow his dreams🥺

Hyping him up when he wears his fancy shirts! Ugh

The soft heart eyes he gives you is everything

He’s also always helping you make tortillas calentitos while your making food, I’m so soft

Going back to his mother, can you just imagine the smile he has when he sees his two favorite women bonding and laughing while making food or desserts in his childhood home, I-

Or the way he can let his shoulders slump after a long day when he comes home and your escorting him to go sit down and eat the dinner you made as you kiss his temple

He has that graceful smile because you care for this man with your whole life

Soft! Mornings with him-

he’ll either hold your hand or have you hugged into his side as you both drink cafecito with pan dulce in the morning-

I’m in love with Chapito

NSFW:

Haha, I’m in danger.

Such intimate ass sex with this man, it makes me weak

I don’t know, Chapito gives me soft vibes, ya feel?

🥺,, I’m listening to Hermosa Experiencia by Banda MS, and I’m crying, it describes what I’m trying to say-

Anyways

He’s taking his time getting to know your body and how you react to his movements

Your pleasure comes before his ok, he’s worshipping you like a queen

Soon he’ll know your body better than you:

So, he has to look at your face when you have sex, it just makes him harder than he already is

This man is caressing your body as he thrusts into you and praising how fucking beautiful you look

“Mi preciosa mujer, solo para mi”

He lives for being as close as possible to you, so he’ll have his arms resting near your head as he thrusts into you

I can just see it, the way he wrinkles his eyebrows when he sees you throw your head back from the pleasure as you let out moans

He places his hand on your cheek and lets it rest there from how he makes you feel because it’s just that GOOD-

“te gustó eso, ¿verdad, amor?”

Or The way he sighs as he drops his head in your neck when he feels his orgasm coming up and let’s out muffled groans as he pulls you by the hair to expose your neck more

That’s his favorite spot, your neck, he just really loves giving you kisses there

And the feeling of your hands locking behind his own neck-

Can’t tell me that couch sex is not a thing in your relationship

Like, this is where you’re guiding him back as you both get lost in each other

he gets carried away with kissing you as it is,

Your pushing him into the couch as you straddle him and he looks at you with the most loving expression I’ve ever seen

god the atmosphere is so full of love for each other- I can’t

Going back to exchanging the most intimate kisses as he starts to come back to function normally

He starts to lose his patience when you begin to grind your hips on his as you reach down to unbuckle his belt and pants-

He’s trying to hurry to help you take off your clothes and once your both fully nude in front of each other

The whole situation slows down

FuCk, you’ll grab the side of his face as you stare into each other and he’ll place his hands on your hips as he smiles- I’m gonna cry

When you finally sink down onto him he’ll let out a deep breath as you bite your lip

The most euphoric position for him, and keep in mind it doesn’t have to happen on the couch all the time, he loves this position equally on your bed-

He’s able to just wander his hands all over your body and be able to clearly see how his cock disappears inside you- ok, someone please kick me out

It’s a steady buildup from there that will leave you both being drunk off one another

Like you’ll start by slowly grinding yourself on top of him to soon enough, bouncing on him

When Chapo just can’t hold himself back anymore, he’ll meet you halfway and take over

He pulls you even closer as he gives you the most deep thrusts that have you only remembering his name

Holy Fuck, the ways he groans when you pull on his hair while you’re riding him and digging your nails into his shoulders

Chapito only reserves sex in the safety of your own home when no one is around

I feel like he’s tried having sex somewhere in public with you just for the thrill of it but you both got caught by Cochi

Like Chapo is making you feel so many things at once as you’re looking up at him, gripping his arms, as he just pounds you into the office desk

And neither of you heard when the front doors open from all the fucking noise you’re both making and then you just hear-

“Pinche Chapo, si ibas a hacerlo en público, deberías haberme invitado, no chingen”

You swear you never saw Chapo move so fast to cover you and throw something at the door

“Chinga tu puta madre, Cochi”

You’re just blushing as you both hear Cochi laughing as he hollers to Güero about what he found

Since then, Chapo would rather explode from sexual tension to get home than have you go through that again

But even when he avoids embarrassment in front of his friends he can’t avoid it with him mother

I just know, she would eventually ask you both when you’re giving her grandchildren and when’s the wedding date-

God, don’t get me started on how he’ll treat you after your wedding day- I can’t

He treats you so gentle but just right to get you on cloud 9

#narcos mexico imagines #narcos mexico imagine #narcos imagine #joaquin guzman #el chapo #el chapo x reader #joaquin guzman x reader #narcos mexico #narcos: mexico #narcos

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luluwquidprocrow · 4 years ago

Text

and i’ve written pages upon pages trying to rid you from my bones

originally posted: august 25th, 2019

word count: 13,060 words

rated: not rated

beatrice/bertrand/lemony

heavy angst, canon compliant, with enough canon divergence that makes the canon compliance worse, epistolary

summary:

and if you don’t love me, let me go.

[a much less than 200 pages break up letter.]

opening notes:

title from the engine driver by the decemberists

By the time you read this

I guess an at least interesting description of us could be like ships passing in the night

I think now is

I think now might be the time for us to

First of all, I have canceled my subscription to the Daily Punctilio, which was just a good move on my part to begin with, and second of all, I couldn’t believe all that anyway, but third of all, do you know, Lemony

You’ll think me such a damn hypocrite, won’t you.

Why now? Why would I

Why would you do this now?

My Heart and I

ENOUGH ! we're tired, my heart and I.

We sit beside the headstone thus,

And wish that name were carved for us.

The moss reprints more tenderly

The hard types of the mason's knife,

As heaven's sweet life renews earth's life

With which we're tired, my heart and I.

II.

You see we're tired, my heart and I.

We dealt with books, we trusted men,

And in our own blood drenched the pen,

As if such colours could not fly.

We walked too straight for fortune's end,

We loved too true to keep a friend ;

At last we're tired, my heart and I.

III.

How tired we feel, my heart and I !

We seem of no use in the world ;

Our fancies hang grey and uncurled

About men's eyes indifferently ;

Our voice which thrilled you so, will let

You sleep; our tears are only wet :

What do we here, my heart and I ?

IV.

So tired, so tired, my heart and I !

It was not thus in that old time

When Ralph sat with me 'neath the lime

To watch the sunset from the sky.

Dear love, you're looking tired,' he said;

I, smiling at him, shook my head :

'Tis now we're tired, my heart and I.

So tired, so tired, my heart and I !

Though now none takes me on his arm

To fold me close and kiss me warm

Till each quick breath end in a sigh

Of happy languor. Now, alone,

We lean upon this graveyard stone,

Uncheered, unkissed, my heart and I.

VI.

Tired out we are, my heart and I.

Suppose the world brought diadems

To tempt us, crusted with loose gems

Of powers and pleasures ? Let it try.

We scarcely care to look at even

A pretty child, or God's blue heaven,

We feel so tired, my heart and I.

VII.

Yet who complains ? My heart and I ?

In this abundant earth no doubt

Is little room for things worn out :

Disdain them, break them, throw them by

And if before the days grew rough

We once were loved, used, — well enough,

I think, we've fared, my heart and I.

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who knew what she was talking about

My Dearest Darling,

You call me a lot of things but, to be perfectly frank (not Ernest), Lemony, I think I’ve always liked that one the least. There was that summer where, among other things, Bertrand was trying to come up with nicknames for us in that charming way of his, and he came up with a real mess of awful nicknames and then I came up with the list we could Never Repeat In Public (capitals necessary) and then you said something very sweet to both of us, and anyway, we know what happened there, but the point of this is that you held us close and said, very seriously, that you would never ever ever ever ever (for the span of what I’d figure would be maybe two pages, short but evenly-spaced), no matter what happened, call Bertrand ‘Bert’ and that was damn good of you because Bertrand is not a Bert and never will be. We were right to veto Bertie, as well. He is a Bertrand, through and through. The other point was that you wound up calling us nicknames too but dearest darling was maybe the worst of all of them. Bea was my favorite. I liked the way you said it and I liked the way it sounded and I felt noble perfect unstoppable invincible worried fragile good when you said it. And that was good.

Speaking of, right now, Bertrand is with Kit, and don’t worry, they’re not talking about you (I know how you worry). They’re talking about boats and maps and cooking spices and Widdershins will probably come by later to give them both his version of A Stern Talking To (capitals debatable) about open water expeditions, which will probably be something like, ‘Fire this harpoon at anything suspicious! Aye! Shoot first and ask questions later! Aye!’ and it’s a real miracle that man doesn’t have a whole boatload of albatrosses hanging around somewhere. (Unless he does, and I just haven’t seen it.)

Bertrand and I—well, we’ve kept the house up. Even though he has that thing for natural light, you know what I mean. But we’ve managed to decorate it nicely. I got the Gothic Furniture (capitals required), he got his large windows, there is a last unopened root beer bottle in the fridge because every time we look at it both of us think about how you said it’s impolite to take the last one, and I thought, maybe I’d save it for when you came back but I don’t

The last thing I want is to

Bertrand and I, we’re going out to dinner tonight, because we’re still not all that comfortable with the kitchen yet. I mean, why did we get such a fancy kitchen? I’m sure one of these days I’ll come around to it and it’ll be fine but right now it’s, it seems a hassle, I guess. So we’re going out and I’ve already decided that I’m going to order this truly egregious amount of pasta and no one will stop me!

We don’t really have any plans for tomorrow. As it stands right now. We’ve both been sort of taking things as they come lately. Bertrand, Bertrand’s been very busy. Both of us have been busy, but I think he’s been trying to keep his mind occupied. A lot of us have. Even Hector looks more concerned than he usually does. I saw him the other day—not here, in town—and I didn’t think it was possible for Hector to look that harried. So much has been happening lately, I feel like even I haven’t had time to catch my breath, even in this part of the city. It’s like everything’s been going a mile a minute, taking me with it, and the moments where it stops, the moments where I have the time to think, are unbearably, agonizingly slow. But most of my life has been like that, you know.

And I know, I know you are too. Busy. And concerned.

I know.

When you

Did you

The last performance of our play was three days ago. Since the Daily Punctilio doesn’t have a theater section anymore, Bertrand and I haven’t been reading any rave reviews but we were rereading but, what can you do. Geraldine’s moved on to some other column now too, something about, I don’t even know, tax evasion? Shoes? I can never understand a single thing she writes. Even that ‘Secret Organizations You Should Know About’ thing didn’t even pan out, can you believe that? All she did was write about Esmé! All that trouble for

It looks like it’ll be the last play for a while. I know they wanted us to go on longer, but, well, that’s how it has to be. Don’t know what I’m going to do with myself without a script to lug around, but I’ll probably memorize something for kicks. Gilda Farrell’s lines, maybe, that’d be fun.

But it’d be better if you

This is really the first time I’ve had one of those unbearably slow moments in a while, and of course the first thing I think of is you. You and Bertrand have always filled those gaps for me, but now it’s different. It’s just

I saw Jacques the other day and he

Ramona’s the only one who hasn’t been so

I want to see you so much, Lemony. With everything I have, I want you with me, and I keep hoping that if I close my eyes, when I open them again, there you’ll be, alive and well and next to me and real. Or I’ll walk away from my desk and this letter and when I look back it’ll all have been a bad dream, the worst nightmare I keep stopping and hoping and when you’re not there and I’m still here I

I don’t know how to do this. I can’t

I didn’t want to do it like this.

I don’t want you to I’m, burying the lede, or doing any of this on purpose or anything, because by now you’ve definitely noticed how long this is (although, personally, I’m only at the beginning, but I have a feeling this is going to get long—I know I’ve said I could run laps around the city in the time it takes you to finish a single metaphor but between the two of us we both know I could go on for much longer and will), and you have a vague idea, or a concrete idea, or an idea you don’t want to think about, of where I’m going to go with this. If it was something simple it wouldn’t be like this. If I was just, telling you the news, I wouldn’t need so much time, and I need so much of it. I’m setting the stage trying to making sure I wanted to I can’t just

I am a weak woman, Lemony Snicket. And that is a complete lie, you and I know, but I am a weak woman and I don’t want to be but my hands are shaking.

You and I. You and I know so many things.

So why should we

We both know how to make Ramona laugh, and the right amount of sugar for Olivia’s tea, and where Jacques will be on Tuesdays even though he pretends he doesn’t keep a regular schedule, and where Monty has his keys stashed in his garden, and everything possible about Bertrand, including what book he’s reading right now even though you haven’t been home in two months (it’s still that cat book because he says he wants to see the look on your face when he reads it out loud after dinner) (it’s still that cat book), and what kind of records Kit wants for her birthday even though she never has the time to play them, and even what Esmé is going to eat tomorrow because would you believe that herring is still in, to her continued consternation. She can talk all she wants about how good herring is but I still see that look on her face when she eats it! Every meal, Lemony! I’m giggling as we speak and I wish you could see her because it is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen in my LIFE

Maybe those things are superficial, but they’re things we know about people, about ourselves, and that counts, doesn’t it? And—and I know what you look like when you wake up and I know what you look like when you’re fixing your typewriter and I have to help and I know what you look like when you think I’m not looking at you, and there was a time where that meant you didn’t look like everyone you knew had just died. You know what I look like at my worst, the worst I ever let you see. You knew it anyway. You It was enough.

And Bertrand. I know I’ve said it before but, you and I were so lucky. Lots of good things came from of this, right? The three of us, you and me and Bertrand. Our apartment and that wallpaper we took down in Bertrand’s when he moved out of his, with those horrendous yellow stripes. The cat we pretended to have and the elaborate medical history we made for it so we’d all have an excuse to go home early. (That poor cat, though. I don’t think it would’ve been possible for it to really survive like that. We should be better to our imaginary pets next time in the future.) Watching Bertrand dance to my records, which was terrible because we hadn’t taught him to dance yet. Trying out those new recipes. Keeping the windows open in the summer. The diner down the street, the ice cream shop on the corner, that night it rained and we all stayed outside and got soaking wet because why not? Bertrand making that excessive amount of soup the next day. You telling us we were the only things that mattered. Bertrand would push your hair out of your face when you were sleeping and I wanted to watch that for the rest of my life. I wanted it to be the last thing I ever saw.

Those moments, every moment. Reading in the dark, losing my glasses, you stopped dead the first time we were out with Bertrand and he was under a streetlamp and you both looked so beautiful and you kissed him for the first time and you didn’t even remember to be nervous.

And those million citations Jacques didn’t give us for public indecency during that spring he was disguised as a police officer. (He was definitely kidding when he brought it up. There was no way he could’ve seen us.)

It makes me so happy, to think about all that. I love you and Bertrand so much. I

Oh Lemony. I don’t think I can do any of this.

-------

In other better happier general news, Gustav let Bertrand and me see the pictures from the wedding, and then he archived them, because we agreed that was for the best, and Bertrand figured you’d probably say the same. I look absolutely stunning, and Bertrand looks incredibly handsome even though he finally admitted he agrees with you, that hat was not his style, and you, Lemony, in that white suit that matched Bertrand’s with those peach-colored flowers because peach is a better color than I ever gave it credit for and it looked so good in the spring because it was the color the wall in the living room turned when the afternoon sun hit, you look

It was such a beautiful day. Still spring, and right after Bertrand’s birthday. Us, Kit, Jacques, Ramona, Olivia, Dewey, Hector. Jerome was invited—or he was supposed to be, who knows what happened there. We barely saw Gustav the whole time too, since he kept climbing up into trees for better angles. The smallest place we could find that would hold all of us and be so out of the way. The cake Kit made, against everyone’s expectations. Ramona cried, because of course she did. All those flowers, no one could move the whole time for walking into at least six bees, but no one minded. So much love. It was palpable, and my whole body was alive with it, with such a soft warmth I could barely breathe. I don’t think I ever stopped smiling, not while dancing or singing or kicking my shoes off because such mortal trappings cannot contain me, or when you and Bertrand danced and you cried, or when a crow flew overhead and we all stopped, just for a single second, before every one of us decided not to care. For a few hours one glorious afternoon.

You look happier than I’ve ever seen you before and now I don’t know if I’ll ever see you like that again or forever and I’m sorry, I was right, I can’t do this, I can’t do this I can’t do this I can’t do this

-------

I’ve taken a few deep breaths and I’m ready to

Oh who am I KIDDING

Lemony I love you so much and I need you so much my heart is going to break with it

justice does not need eyes to see,

but truth built himself eyes

in the porcelain patterns of his world

and let them do the talking

in the skies he

so kindly

let them see,

with the eyes he gave them,

one after another

after another

i was something else

but i lived so close beside

that they could not accuse me

of being blind

but i could’ve seen everything

if i could see with every eye,

one after another

after another

after another,

every eye

a certainty,

every eye

the truth,

every eye

mine alone.

You told me when we were younger that I should give rhyming verse a try and, well, Lemony, not everything you said was good advice.

-------

I do, though. I love you a great deal. I think it confuses people. Besides the fact that some of them never understood our relationship with Bertrand (cowards), I get the impression some of our associates don’t know why I love you. Which is just stupid of them, and I don’t owe them anything, none of them are going to read this. It’s not their business why I love you, it’s ours. And I love you because

How can you explain why you love someone? Someone can say ‘they make me laugh’ as much as they want and sure it’s true but is that really why? Can you ever really say why? Isn’t it enough to love somebody, with everything you have? To say, that’s the one I want, for the rest of my life? Who could I possibly need to defend myself to?

I love you because I love you, because I look at you and think I love you, because I inhale and exhale that I love you, because every part of me only feels right with you.

I love you because you embarrassed me but I thought you were kind. I love you because I didn’t ever have to explain anything. I love you because you always came back to me. I love you because you made me happy. I love you because you didn’t let anything stop you from loving me. I love you because you loved me. I love you because when you took my hand I thought I could do anything with that love.

I love you because you were mine. I love you because you looked at me. And I love you because it was more than that, it always was.

I love you because of the records you played. I love you because of the time we taught Bertrand to make root beer floats. I love you because you’d rehearse our lines with us even though you can’t act. I love you because of the way you would stand in the kitchen and wonder what you should make for dinner. I love you because you said you’d plant strawberry bushes in the backyard. I love you because you could never stand Geraldine Julienne. I love you because we would all sit around the table in my apartment and critique the newspaper articles together. I love you because you’d never take the train. I love you because Bertrand and I found every shortcut in the city for you. I love you because you and Bertrand would knit me the ugliest sweaters on purpose. I love you because you would take care of the bats for me and you were terrible at it.

I love you because you were wonderful where it counted. I love you because we’d stay up late and watch movies. I love you because you would hold Bertrand like it was the most important thing in the world. I love you because you would furrow your brow when you read something you didn’t like. I love you because you’d take me to the beach when it was cold. I love you because we went on picnics in the summer. I love you because when I walked into our apartment and then when I walked into our house it always felt like home. I love you because we made up that cat. I love you because you’d sing with me. I love you because Bertrand would take us bird-watching and name the birds with us. I love you because you bought me flowers.

I love you because you told me what happened. I love you because we went back there with you. I love you because I went into the lighthouse. I love you because I wasn’t going to not go. I love you because no one else would’ve gone. I love you because we let you walk out the door there and I knew you would come back.

I love you because we used to make out in the back of the movie theater and we’d take turns with Bertrand and then try to piece together what even happened in the movie when we got home. I love you because you used to sit in dark rooms with me and pretend we were ghosts and scare the other volunteers. I love you because we could just read for hours and not say a word. I love you because you let me cry in the bathroom. I love you because you would make up songs on the accordion when I was upset. I love you because I would whistle along when you did songs I knew. I love you because you would go out of your way to buy crackers. I love you because you would say things like “when we first met, you were pretty, and I was lonely” and you let me laugh. I love you because you would write me notes during class. I love you because you looked the same way I did the first time we saw Bertrand—shocked, and then a little impressed, and then irritated, because who did he think he was? I love you because who did any of us think we were, really. I love you because we grew to not care. I love you because we became people I was proud of.

I love you because you would feed that cat in the back alley on your way home and I would watch you from the window. I love you because that cat followed us to our house and then we had a real live legitimate cat until someone across the street put out better cat food. I love you because of the way you would read out loud, because you couldn’t act but when you read it was like seeing the sunrise for the first time. I love you because the one thing you did that was better than Bertrand was make tea. I love you because you taught me all your cookie recipes. I love you because we got you to sleep in the middle so we could protect you. I love you because they couldn’t take that away from me.

I love you because I’m here in an otherwise empty house, some boxes still unpacked, letting the dust settle, pouring my heart out when I don’t want to, because I do love you with everything I have, every part of me, every bone and every sigh and every drop of blood, and that’s the end of that. That’s all there is, I love you. That’s what it comes down to, I love you. That’s the only thing I want to say, I love you.

I do, I do love you. Lemony, please believe me.

-------

I know Bertrand has his own thoughts, his own opinions. He doesn’t want to admit that he does, but he gets this, look, on his face. Like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, like he’s lost something special but it was there a moment ago, wasn’t it. He thinks I haven’t noticed. After all this time, he thinks he’s not supposed to be here, and you it hurts, is all.

And as much as Bertrand is a part of us, indelibly, forever, just as you are, both of you so a part of me that I ache with it, this letter is between you and me. Not because it was the two of us first. But because you know, for as much as I don’t want to, I’ll say the things Bertrand won’t.

That’s how this has to be.

-------

So.

Olaf’s started talking to me again, which I didn’t think would happen in a million years. Although maybe I shouldn’t call it talking? More like, he sort of shows up if he knows I’m at headquarters (which is far and few between anyway so, really, what the hell?) and lounges in doorways with these big smiles and says these dramatic things at me instead of to me, which he can’t possibly expect me to believe. How stupid does he think I am? Because I’m not. He keeps going, hey Beatrice, have you read the Daily Punctilio? And I don’t say anything to him, even though yes, I’ve read the Daily Punctilio, dammit.

You and I both know what’s in the Daily Punctilio, and for a while I thought, maybe you were writing those articles yourself, part of another fragmentary plot, and that you’d tell me about it later, and you’d explain it to me, even though I wouldn’t need it to be explained, not really. But you didn’t. Not that you didn’t explain, you just, you just didn’t tell me anything. And you were gone and I couldn’t even see you anyway and that was what really made it hard? It wasn’t like I doubted you. I didn’t. I didn’t doubt you. I knew you wouldn’t do any of those things.

But everyone looked at me and they looked so damn pitying, like, oh it happens to the best of us, only he’s not the best of us. Maybe you should’ve seen it coming, well you know what he’s like, as if nothing had ever happened? As if we hadn’t grown up together? As if we wouldn’t have followed you to the ends of the earth because we believed in you? It’s not everyone, but it’s enough. Like some of them don’t owe you their lives.

Bertrand says that people deal with things in different ways, and saying those things about you is probably just another way they’re dealing with everything. Don’t you think it’s harder, it’s gotten harder, as we’ve gotten older? But they don’t have to throw you under the bus to do it. They don’t have to vilify you to make themselves feel better. They don’t have to look me in the eye like that, like I’m some, some poor miserable thing, or like I have to be protected, or like I don’t know what I’m doing, or like they can’t even trust me.

But what does that make me?

And Olaf would grin at me and I would hold my head high and look him back and spit in his face. I wasn’t going to let it get to me. It had only been a month. How long is a month, in the grand scheme of things? What does a month matter, against the beginning of a lifetime? And when a month became two, what did that matter?

-------

I wouldn’t say that Hector and I were ever particularly close, but I’ve actually seen a lot of him lately. We meet up for tea because he keeps saying there’s something he wants to talk to me about but mostly he sits there and looks at his tea and I pretend I’m not super uncomfortable. And then he insists on paying the check, in exact change.

When I see Hector, I think about Haruki. I know how close they were. And Haruki respected you so much, more than anyone else. As in, he respected you more than he respected any of our other friends, but also more than maybe anyone else respected you, because that was how Haruki was. Loyal, the best of the best, and so fierce about it. I wanted him there at our wedding.

Haruki was really the first person we lost, I guess. And I hate how we’re never going to know how it happened, because they say no one else was there, and the one person we do know was there, he’s never going to say a damn thing about it, and we all know that for sure. But I remember everyone gathering around to write Haruki’s obituary and how little we had to say. Not because we didn’t know him. But because, what were we going to say? What did we have left to say, who did Haruki have left, besides us? And what were we?

Hector looks at me and I don’t know what to say to him. He doesn’t know what to say to me. I’m terrified he’s going to tell me I should’ve known better too because then I won’t be able to stand it. But he just looks at me and I try not to cry and I’m trying not to cry now because he’s feeling it too, this awful business of feeling like things are starting to break. Sometimes I feel Hector is going to disappear, too.

--------

I guess the question I started to think was, how long was I going to wait. Bertrand and I had waited for longer, and then there were times where we never waited, and hadn’t we reached a point where we weren’t supposed to, anymore? But then, when you’re married, aren’t you supposed to do whatever you have to?

But doesn’t it go both ways? One half can do their part but doesn’t the other half have to do something too and how much is it before you’re asking too much but how long is it before you’re not doing enough and when you’re married aren’t you supposed to know the answers to all the questions, the right and the wrong ones, you’re not supposed to care and you’re supposed to be there and it’s all is supposed to be okay, and

We never did do anything traditionally, though, did we?

-------

I saved the article. I didn’t save all of them, but I saved this one.

-------

UNIDENTIFIED BODY IDENTIFIED

The unidentified body recently pulled from the downtown river has been identified as local ex-theater critic and renowned person of interest, Lemony Snicket, who was last seen surveying the river and saying, “How deep do you think it really is?”

“For the record,” said the local police, who preferred to remain nameless and sent in their response by postcard from three towns over, “it was three feet.”

Mr. Snicket was identified by a source who was also unidentified, but proved their credentials by singing a variety of showtunes for the newspaper staff, to great applause.

“Yes, I suppose that’s him,” said the source, when asked to identify the photo of the river, which was presented to them while they were drinking a glass of water, because they were parched after the showtunes. When the glass of water spilled on the photograph, the source went on to say, “Oh, that’s definitely him.”

The body in question disappeared as soon as it was found, but the police have no reason to suspect foul play, as no livestock was found at the scene, the morgue, or the local bakery, and neither does our source.

“Can I leave now?” asked the source. “I need to go pick up my glasses.”

Mr. Snicket has recently been the suspect in a number of crimes, including arson, lockpicking, theft, and jaywalking without a license. He has been described as “that’s not what I would call a grey suit, it leaned closer to charcoal.” There is no planned funeral service at this time.

-------

Bertrand and I laughed a lot, because it was the most outrageous article we’d ever read, and we kept talking about what sort of bakery would even allow livestock inside, and of course we knew it was about you, but of course it wasn’t you, because we didn’t know where you were but we knew you were alive. You were alive, so no matter what we read or what anyone told us, no matter who wanted to believe what, we knew the truth.

And, again, Lemony, it wasn’t that I needed you to explain. It was that I wanted you to tell me. I wanted you to let me in on it. I wanted you to call or come by and tell us, your husband and your wife, hey no big deal but I’m gonna fake my death for the foreseeable future, is that okay? And instead I have to find out from Olaf waving it in my face? I have to find out from some absurd article I shouldn’t have even looked twice at? I have to find out from people I thought were my friends telling me I should have known better?

I sure don’t need to tell you, but, we just got married, Lemony! And we had a house and a life and plans and no matter what happened, no matter what else we had to do, because there was no way we were ever going to give this up and we knew that, we were going to stay together, we were going to do this, what we promised, not to other people but to ourselves, and each other, and

Sometimes I want to think that you planned it like that, that you sat down and thought to yourself about the best worst way to do it and you thought, leaving us alone like this and faking your death and not saying a single word was the greatest way to break our hearts, especially after marrying us, that would hurt the most, you wanted to do it so you did it and you got away from us for good like you always wanted because you were never going to stay and you knew it, because then I can hate you like I’m supposed to and stop thinking of the way you smile at me

I hate that you aren’t a cruel person, I hate that you didn’t do it on purpose, I hate that the real true human tradition is that people are human and nothing else

How am I supposed to do this?

a bird up in her chamber

eats love for breakfast lunch and dinner

and steadily gets thinner

sings songs she won’t forget,

in the darkness by the lamps

says the shapes of lonely words

said by lonely people

in lonely rooms

to feel better about

being

what is a life with this alone

what is a life

like this?

“when we grab you by the ankle, where your life is ours to take

you’ll soon be doing wicked things, they’ll keep you long awake

when your whole life is a secret then you’ll be a volunteer

and you’ll scream a long time later, for

the world was never quiet here.”

-------

Bertrand has been making lists. You know his tendency to organize, but the funny thing is he just keeps leaving them places. I’m sitting on like, three of them.

To Do

-Check maps

-Apologize to D

-Extra key

-Secure boat

-Study family trees

To Buy

-Thick, sturdy rope

-Do they make portable record players?

-Paintbrushes (for then and now, so get extra)

-White curtains? Will they match? Check ‘To Think’

-Extra wires, no candles!

To Think

-Ask Kit about Bernadette

-Examine garden for hiding spots

-Turtles or foxes?

-What if it turns out to be true?

-Or birds??

Definitely not birds.

-------

You know, I haven’t seen Jerome in a while. Maybe it’s also been two months, I’m not sure. I feel like, even before the wedding, we weren’t seeing much of him—although it wasn’t like Jacques paraded him around or anything in the first place—but since then, I don’t think Jacques has even talked about him.

This means Jacques’s Tuesdays are open now, although you’d never know it. He still only shows up when he wants to. And if he doesn’t want to, then you have as much luck finding him as finding a grammar rule Jo doesn’t know. It must run in the family. I hate to

I had Kit get ahold of him for me. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know what to say to Kit anymore, which is unsettling, but Kit acts like she always does. She comes over and makes herself at home and talks to both of us like this is average everyday Kit business for her. I don’t know if I admire her tenacity or if it’s going to be something else I can’t stand down the line. I don’t know yet. She hugged me when she left, though. That’s just how Kit is. And I don’t really want to lose that.

I wasn’t sure if Kit would know, the thing I wanted to ask Jacques. I guess it wouldn’t surprise me if she did, but when I saw her I thought, maybe she didn’t know. She didn’t talk about you at all. And it wasn’t the ‘I’m Kit Snicket and I’m Being Purposefully Vague For Reasons, Now Deal With It’ sort of silence, it was the ‘I’m Kit Snicket and I Refuse to Admit I Don’t Know This Piece of Information, So I’m Going to Rearrange Your Bookshelves’ sort of silence. Still don’t know where she put T.S. Eliot. I think she took it with her.

Jacques didn’t want to talk to me. He’s too polite to say it, but I could tell. He kept making excuses, and by the time we finally got him to come here, he was uncomfortable and I was on edge. He came right out and said he couldn’t stay long. He knew why I wanted to talk to him and he told me straightforward that he couldn’t tell me.

I’m not proud of what I said to him.

-------

If it was the last day, but it probably was but Lemony, I don’t I sure didn’t know.

I will remember every second until the day I die.

We waited until after the wedding to move into the house, especially because the only honeymoon we wanted was for the three of us to be there together, alone, for a little while. It was on the outskirts of the city, away from everything else, and we barely told anyone. We didn’t even tell everyone from the wedding.

I watched the sunrise, the soft shadows sliding along the sheets on the bed, catching on the suitcases we still hadn’t unpacked all the way, you and Bertrand warm beside me, and I didn’t want to get up. We put the best bed in the whole world in our room, and rightly so. High bed posts but no canopy because Bertrand was worried about dust. Crisp white sheets and I was so excited to look when we finally got up and see the wrinkles mashed down in them from where we slept because that meant it was ours for real. That rich wine comforter that it was too hot to use the first night so we still had it folded up at the foot of the bed, but you had this look in your eyes when we spread it out like you couldn’t wait for winter and when we’d be squished up against each other underneath it for warmth.

That morning, I just wanted to lay there and savor it. It wasn’t like we’d never been in the same bed before, or that we even needed to be married, but! To know I could hold it in my hands, that’s what it was.

And then Bertrand rolled over and got an elbow into my side somehow and you mumbled something about Wedding Pancakes (capitals implied) and then we had to eat breakfast.

I checked. The wrinkles were all there.

-------

Bertrand and I.

We haven’t

We’ve been

We’ve been angry at each other.

And you know Bertrand, he doesn’t get angry, really, he gets, more disappointed than anything, but he’s. He’s been angry. At me. I know.

I get scared, because I don’t know what to do, so I, I can’t hold a conversation without yelling at somebody, and it’s usually Bertrand, and I hate yelling at him and sometimes he starts to yell back.

We’re not. Okay. Right now.

We weren’t supposed to do this without you and I don’t want to find out that we can’t, Lemony. And I know we can but I know it’s also not a matter of doing it with or without you, because that’s awful, I just keep wondering what if you were what held us all together and if you’re not here how are Bertrand and I supposed to go on like this. Saying the wrong things, avoiding each other, not coming home. I guess that’s how we’re ‘dealing’ with it but that’s sure some sick way to do it.

I don’t want to lose anybody and fighting for them means that I want to keep screaming until everything stops.

-------

Jacques said you’d be back soon enough.

I told him I needed to know how soon was soon.

He said soon enough.

I said that wasn’t enough.

I never though of Jacques as one to yell. And he didn’t really yell, he mostly raised his voice, like I couldn’t hear him. I mean I was definitely talking over him but it was because I could hear him and I didn’t want to.

No one can tell me anything I don’t know. I know they think I haven’t felt the same worries as everyone else but that’s because I never wanted them to think that I did. And I did too good a job, apparently. I know we live hard lives, Jacques. I know it requires sacrifices, Jacques. I know there’s no guarantee, Jacques. I know there’s things you have to give up. I know you can’t be childish or selfish in this business. I know we knew what would happen. I know sometimes no matter how hard you try, you’re just going to fail.

He told me to wait for you.

-------

After breakfast, we organized the library, because we still had so many things in boxes but we agreed we had to get that done. We put everything in, every repeat copy and every notebook because we actually had room for everything instead of trying to cram it all into smaller bookshelves. The library was the biggest room in the house and had that beautiful windowseat. (It still does. We’re still in this house, after all, but this moment, this day, just isn’t right now.) I’ll admit I spent more time lounging on it than I did organizing books, but, you sat on that windowseat with me, you knew how comfortable it was. I loved those windows and how bright the sun was (really.) and how good I knew it was going to look when it was raining. And you agreed, and Bertrand rolled his eyes at us, and I told him, he got his natural light, what more did he want?

For two people to stop lazing around and figure out if we were going in alphabetical order or by genre or by which ones most recently made us cry over lunch, Bertrand said.

It was alphabetical, of course.

We forgot about lunch, because we put the record player in the library until we could find another place for it and started playing our favorites. Bertrand could dance by then, obviously, we wouldn’t have married him if he couldn’t. We were very good at dancing together, after practicing for so long. No one was ever going to do a better three-way tango and we all knew it.

We picked through the fridge and some of the wedding gifts, once we got hungry and tired of dancing. We found out Jerome somehow still sent us at least thirty coasters, and learned that he apparently wildly overestimates our social life, because there was no way we were going to be inviting thirty people at a time over anymore, or at least, not for a while. You and Bertrand stacked them in the dining room in a cabinet, and those you organized by color. Then we stood at the window there and looked out into the garden (the best view of it was from the dining room) and talked about the flowers we were going to plant, and how Ramona was going to send us (express) a clipping from one of the rosebushes in her garden, the ones we’d look at during her family’s masked balls.

We went to the corner store down the street and you and Bertrand pretended to fuss over tomatoes while I was looking at loaves of bread and when I turned around you were buying flowers for me, red and bright and beautiful. We put them in the kitchen while we all made dinner (salmon, with cherry tomatoes). Somehow I found the time to make sorbet for dessert and it was only then we realized how late it was and we laughed a lot that day and laughed a lot then because we didn’t need to care about things like that. Our house was barely put together and we tried to find a way to use every single coaster from Jerome and we hadn’t had words with the city about the electricity yet because there was so much we’d had to do beforehand that we had to use candles. We all had matches, and we weren’t naive enough to think we wouldn’t have them.

I can’t tell you how powerful I felt, lighting those candles, because I know you and Bertrand felt it too. This was our doing and ours alone. This space was ours. We looked at each other over the candles, the shadows on our faces, and we’d never looked clearer.

We could’ve lived forever, in that moment.

-------

I called your brother a coward and I told him that whatever happened to Jerome now that he wouldn’t protect him was his fault and his alone and if he could live with himself that’s fine but I couldn’t if I didn’t try to do this and if he didn’t tell me where you were I was going to kill him where he stood and he shouldn’t even think for one second that I wasn’t capable of doing what had to be done and if that meant I had to kill for what I wanted then I would.

-------

You kissed us in the morning. You smiled. You walked out the door and then came back because you forgot your hat and Bertrand and I were still laughing even as the door shut behind you.

And then you were gone.

-------

Kit came by again, after.

We sat in that silence.

She told me that it was the one thing they hadn’t told her. She hadn’t known, until I asked Jacques. We don’t have anywhere else to go, she said, in a moment of unprecedented candidness. So we always come back.

“I underestimated him,” she said.

I told her she could keep The Wasteland, since it was practically hers because it had been yours. Kit smiled. She didn’t say much else.

-------

Bertrand and I aren’t the only ones losing someone here and I forgot that.

Jacques and I looked at each other for a long time. I tried to apologize and he kept shaking his head. He told me where you were. He told me he didn’t know when you’d be back—or if you would at all. He told me he was the one writing the articles in the Daily Punctilio. He turned away from me. Then he gave me his handkerchief, and put his hand on mine, and got up and left.

-------

What it feels like, Lemony, is like you

It feels like you picked

It feels like we didn’t matter and

And it’s not like we could ever choose or have one or the other I know I know I know but

We’re never going to be without it but I thought that

WE GOT MARRIED, FOR FUCK’S SAKE, LEMONY SNICKET

You picked an idea of nobility that you spent the past ten years struggling with and denouncing and promising you’d never

It wasn’t like we ever set out to save you anyway I

At the end of the day, that’s it. You picked the organization over us. And I didn’t think we were going to have to draw lines like that. At least not now. At least not right now. Because that means I have to make a decision. Because it means I can’t only think about me. Because it means I can’t keep waiting. And even if I could, I wouldn’t want to.

-------

I found out the other day.

I had a feeling, though. You just, you either have the feeling or you don’t, right? And I did. And I keep thinking about what your reaction would be. What you’d say. I keep thinking about your eyes, bluer than blue. I keep thinking about the world we said we were going to make when we were kids, the people we said we’d be. We were tiny and young and idealistic and you’re really only that way once in your whole life and when you’re not anymore, you can’t go back.

-------

We can’t go on like this.

stripped off my dress like a skin,

peeled

so you could see everything

not only then,

but always.

didn’t know i was doing it,

guess i never really ran out of clothes.

you took off you shirt

and I was jealous.

you only needed to do it once and there you were.

I thought.

but now I keep finding shirts

in the places where I found you

and I can’t

find anything

that was mine

to put back on

I really can’t do anything

-------

Enclosed you’ll find the ring. I know it’s not just the ring I married you with, but the ring I married Bertrand with, but whenever we look at it we think of you and I’m the one who has to wear it all the time and I can’t.

But I don’t want to give it back because what if it’s the only thing I get to keep of you? But it wasn’t ever mine anyway, or yours, and who knows, maybe Ramona will marry Olivia with it someday, and maybe you’ll be there, only you wouldn’t be if you got the ring back, you’d never show your face again.

And that’s not what I want, I don’t want you out of my life, Lemony, but if I give it back then maybe I do. Maybe that is what I want. Maybe I never want to see you again like this.

-------

Okay, I have to ask. I have to, because Jacques kept his mouth shut about this.

The last time you saw us. Not the day, but the morning, walking out the front door. Did you know you weren’t coming back? You just left like you always did, to go to the newspaper, before Bertrand and I went to the theater, and as far as leaving someone for good goes that’s so

Did you meet up with Jacques, or Hector, or Jo, or even Kit, and did they tell you? Did headquarters address you personally? Did you take an assignment from someone else? Did someone corner you and were you trying to protect us? Was that the only way you could do it, going into hiding and faking your death? Who else was involved, besides Jacques? How long was it going to go on for? Did they expect you to do it by yourself? Did you have a plan, did any of them have a plan? What fragmentary plot was it even a part of? Did you know you weren’t coming back? Could you even come back? Did it even happen right away? Did it start out as some mediocre assignment you were going to tell us about later and then what happened so that I was reading the paper and there you were being accused of things I knew you’d never do? Why didn’t they ask me? Why didn’t they ask Bertrand? Why didn’t they ask us? You knew we’d do it together, we swore we’d do it together, why didn’t you tell us? What made it so that you couldn’t?

Or did you really decide for yourself that that was it?

I don’t want to believe that. I don’t, Lemony. I want to believe that it was one thing and then another but do you know why I can’t, why I keep asking? Do you understand why I need to know the truth? Why I need to be able to put it together? Why waiting and trusting isn’t enough anymore?

--------

No one could ever extinguish my love, Lemony, no one, nothing, not a single solitary thing ever, nothing could do it, but my trust is a different matter. Loving someone and trusting someone are two different things and I know you know that as much as I do. You. Knew. All. Of. This.

-------

You know. If it had ended at the article. I might’ve been okay with it. I might have. Not making any promises, because we both know better than that. But I might’ve. I could’ve.

It didn’t end with the article.

Olivia had a short-lived assignment working the telegrams recently. She gave Ramona a very specific telegram. Olivia was honestly surprised it had come through at all. That something like that would be sent over such an insecure line. And of course she showed Ramona. They didn’t show it to anyone else. Which was lucky, because you know Olivia. She wanted to do whatever she could.

Ramona sent it to me. Right away. I got it yesterday. She said she’d never felt worse in her entire life. She said she was sorry. She’s the only one who didn’t sound patronizing about it.

J.S.,

AS WELL AS CAN BE EXPECTED STOP GOING ON FULL STOP

M.K.

I never liked Monty Kensicle all that much as a name either.

-------

Lemony I can’t help but think that you’re sick of me, sick with me

It wasn’t like I ever—like I did it to be similar, I would NEVER, because both of us had our reasons for why we did what we did, you on that train, me and Bertrand at the opera. We knew what we were doing. Did we regret it? Enough for it to hurt, on the wrong days. Not enough for it to matter, in the long run. But enough for it to stop me every once in a while, in the way I know it stopped you.

But, but did you think, you couldn’t love someone who

Which would be, extraordinarily hypocritical of you, not to mention

I know you still think about it and I know how much it

I paid my price for what I did, Lemony, and so did you, and I didn’t

Is that how it works? Is that what happens? Is this what else I have to give up, for some shred of nobility, is my life going to be one mistake after another because I followed an order and I though they were right enough? Not even right, right enough, how stupid—is everything that happens to me going to be because of that? Am I losing you because it’s what I deserve?

Don’t I deserve good things? Don’t I still deserve happiness, and stability, and love, and a family, and all those things I worked so hard for? Because nobility wasn’t the end of it for me, this was what we wanted, something better, something for us, something we deserved, and this can’t be it, this can’t be the only thing we get for all of that, there has to be something else! And if I lose everyone close to me because of this organization Lemony I swear I don’t know what I’m going to do I feel like I’m going to lose my mind like this

--------

I think of you out there, alone, and probably cold because you never bring a damn jacket with you anywhere. It’s summer but I’m imagining you as being cold, but I think that’s just because it’s sort of what you do when anyone thinks of someone as being anywhere alone.

Or, I’m just—I’m thinking of you out there, alone, for sure. I’m doing that. I’m thinking. About you. Alone.

I’m

thinking.

I think of you. Out there. Letting Jacques know, letting Olivia know, because you had to know who was working the telegram, otherwise you wouldn’t have sent it, I think of you going out of your way to tell your brother and not me and Bertrand and maybe you thought they’d tell me anyway but I had to pull teeth to get it from Jacques and if it had been anyone else! No one but Olivia would have said! You got lucky! But not enough! Because you still didn’t tell us! You went out of your way to not!! You! I think of you! Doing that instead of having the nerve! The decency! To tell us first! You!

How could you

-------

I think of you, out there—hiding in the middle of nowhere with only the occasional newspaper for company, which, let me tell you, Lemony, is a very frustrating existence. You know what? I keep wanting to hope that you are dead because somehow that would make this easier, I can be angry at a dead man. But I can be angry at anyone, can’t I. Dead or alive, it doesn’t matter. I can be angry.

I want to hope that you never sleep comfortably again. I want to hope that every sea is too uneven and every desert is too hot and every mountain is too cold and everywhere you go it’s too much. I want to hope that you try and come back and see how good and happy Bertrand and I are without you and you have to realize, you really did mess up. I want to hope that your boat goes down in the middle of the ocean and I know for sure! I want to think that you’ll be so miserable without us and it’ll never have been worth it!!

You’re out there, without us. Without me.

I hope it was worth it.

-------

What am I going to do?

I’m not picking. It’s not—I’m not capable of that, picking between you two, and I know you both had this ridiculous fear that I was going to, but I wasn’t, and I’m still not. I am selfish and clingy and I know what I want and I love what I have, and I love both of you and Bertrand loves both of us and I was ready to stake my life on the fact that you loved both of us too.

And I hate that I have to say it! Because I do! Apparently I do have to, Lemony! If it comes down to, who would I rather do this with, who would I raise a family with, who would I trust more than anything, and you made me make this choice, I’m sorry it can’t be the man who ran away from me! And part of me keeps thinking I’m not even me for saying that, I’m not, I’m not the Beatrice that was going to tear a room apart with her bare hands to get what she wanted, who would scale walls and climb buildings and shoot a gun and could ski and fence by fourteen, I’m not, taking risks, I’m not doing whatever I have to, and that everyone who told me Bertrand was boring (because there were people!!!) and safe and uncomplicated was right and that I’m betraying some fundamental aspect of myself by not even trying, and that I’m hurting Bertrand especially for making him a damn pawn in what I think my life is

But it’s not like I never did! It’s not like I didn’t spend years and years of my life trying to be a good person, trying to create the life I wanted, all of this is me, every ugly thought and every bad decision and every unfinished book and every theater script I keep leaving around places and every single page of this as I try to figure out where I want to go from here! And it just comes back to one thing, Lemony, just one thing! That we can’t do this! That I can’t have you in my life like this! That I didn’t believe it would happen but here it is, it’s happening!! I can’t avoid it! You walked away from me and expected me to be okay with it! You expected me to wait! You expected me to do it! You expected EVERYTHING from me and I only have so much to give, I’m only so much, I CAN’T DO EVERYTHING

And do you know what I am? Do you know what I am, really, when I get right down to it?? I am this, this awful woman with blood on my hands asking you for something that even I could never give anybody, not you or Bertrand or myself and I’m so sick of everything, I’m so sick of myself, I hate everyone and myself most of all, for being like this, for turning into this person, I hate hate hate hate hate all of this and how we were raised and what our future is going to be and what I’ve done and what is it going to take, for things to be better, for me to be better, for—what is it going to take, Lemony, for you to walk back through that door again and not do it over and over and over and I can’t keep letting you do this, I can’t, not to me or to Bertrand, I can’t keep hoping you’ll be there when I wake up and I can’t keep dreaming we’re going to die and I can’t keep pretending that anything about us has ever been okay or ever will be okay! Nothing about this is okay and how am I only realizing it now? How long have we been fooling ourselves into thinking that we could do this? How long do I have to be kind about this? How long do I have to play nice about you and this?

I’m UPSET and I’m ALLOWED TO BE and I

don’t

know

can

forgive

you

I don’t know if I want to. I don’t know if I can look at you anymore.

I don’t know.

Do you know how it was, Lemony? It was us first. You and me. From the second we saw each other in that green-walled room, it was you and me. Lemony and Beatrice. Root beer floats and being purposely mysterious to each other when we talked and being too clever. And I thought that meant we could do anything. We could die and I’d be happy because I was with you. As long as I had you.

And then there was Bertrand. And life felt different. Bertrand made it different, Bertrand made life different, he made it worth something else. And the bond that you and I had? Irreplaceable. And what we created with him only made it better. We had room in what we had for something so good. It really was Bertrand. I don’t know what would’ve become of us if it hadn’t been for him. And I saw that in you, too. You thought it too.

That was when I worried. When I started dreaming about terrible things happening to us. To you. I kept running from it because I didn’t know what else to do. I just didn’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to lose.

I’m scared to do anything. I’m scared to be wrong. I’m scared to know anything else.

I’m scared to die.

I don’t think you are.

I’m not sorry.

-------

Here are some questions. Here are some facts. Here are some things.

1 – I’m tired.

2 – I can’t even wonder if we should have done things differently anymore, right after that moment we met. In that room, I never imagined any of this.

3 – Sometimes I do think you lied all along. And that’s not a reflection on our associates or anything but just, see question/statement 1.

4 – You had to have thought about what would happen.

5 – How could we have a family like this?

6 – Did you think you could run all your life? Did you think that would work out? That Bertrand and I would be satisfied with that?

7 – Did you want me like that?

8 – What am I supposed to do?

9 – How long did you think we could keep this up?

10 – Was I wrong?

11 – What did you want?

12 – I know you’d thought about what a family with us would look like and I didn’t think you’d let anything stand in the way of that and maybe that was where I was naive.

13 – What would you say if I asked you this in person?

-------

After all this, I—

Bertrand has asked me if I have any spare pens.

-------

Lemony—

A long time ago, I sat in the diner near your apartment. We’d all known each other for a while, and you and Bea were very much together, and I didn’t quite feel like a third wheel anymore but I also didn’t feel like I was a part of everything yet. We were still dancing around each other, and I was doing it truly, incredibly badly.

I was in the habit of meeting Jo on weekends, when we would go over our reports together because we worked in similar places. We’d meet in the diner. I would arrive early and take a seat near the door. It had the best view of your window. You never turned the lights on, but I would look at it and think about you and—I’m completely serious—write the worst poetry ever to exist. You and Bea have always been much better at it. Jo would take it upon herself to help and suddenly they were these grammar-specific poems, which meant I definitely was not going to send them. Jo is many things; Jo is just not particularly a writer of romance.

I never told you or Bea, because it didn’t seem noteworthy, once we were together. But, things happen in your life and you wish you’d been able to say so much more than you did. I wanted to tell you about the face Bea makes when you aren’t there. She bites her lip and frowns around the kitchen when there’s a lull in the conversation in the spots you would usually say something clever. I wanted to tell you how the bed doesn’t feel the same when you aren’t in it. Bea says the wrinkles don’t set the same, and I feel like it’s emptier without you. I wanted to tell you that the hottest summer days—and I feel like there have been an endless amount of them so far this summer, humid and muggy and not the least bit sultry—even they feel cold when we can’t see you. I wanted to tell you that every time I do the laundry, I remember how you can’t fold socks. I wanted to tell you that I’ve stopped folding socks altogether, which has become quite the problem. Bea and I have stacks of socks in the bedroom now, which is just silly. I wanted to tell you that I love watching you put your hat by the door when you come home, resting it on the table as gently as possible, giving such a small gesture has such a big importance.

I took those things for granted. So much of my life, I’ve thought that loving things so fiercely and so determinedly could be enough, and I’ve relied on that love to get me through what we had to do. Even when the three of us weren’t together, I think I would’ve been happy to stay that way, because I could still love both of you regardless, and just that would’ve been enough. Just to be able to love you, and have your companionship. I would have cherished that always.

I’m the one who’s been so lucky, Lemony. When we all got together, I felt like my life began. I felt like you and Bea pulled me along into something beautiful and breathtaking and nothing would ever compare. I felt like it would always be there, for the rest of my life.

And I’m—

I don’t hate you. I could never. You need to know, that no matter what happens, I will never hate you. I can’t promise to not be upset with you, because I am, and a little angry, and a little disappointed, and a lot sad. But I don’t hate you.

You and Bea have such beautiful ways to say things, and I’ve always been so jealous of the way you two write. You told me that both of you were jealous of my tendency to be a little more forthright, at least when I got down to it, because let’s not forget, I did spend two months coming up with nicknames for all of us instead of just telling you how much you meant to me. But I don’t have lengthy or passionate ways to say certain things, is what it is. Actions, definitely. But when I have to say it, it comes out.

I love you.

And I wish you were here.

I never wanted to think about it, I guess. I’ve done a very good job of not thinking of things I didn’t want to think about. We do difficult things and live difficult lives. It takes its toll, and I’ve watched it happen. I thought if I held on tight enough—to you, to Bea, to myself—that we could escape some of it, no matter what we’ve done. And we’ve done a lot. We’ve been kept up in turn by sleepless nights and bad dreams and wondering too much. We’re not going to leave—not for good, and each of us know that—but it could be more manageable, together. We would figure it out, when we needed to. Perhaps I was a bit too optimistic about how well I could do it.

I hate to think it was something we did, or something we didn’t see. I hate to think that you gave up on yourself or on us. I hate to think I didn’t do enough. I know it’s not necessarily anyone’s fault. I know Bea keeps telling me I’m too kind for my own good, and I think it’s because I’m afraid to really feel anything. Feeling it makes it too real, something I have to actually contend with, and I don’t want to. I really don’t.

I want to say—I don’t want to tell you, I just want to say it—that I’m more hurt than I’ve ever been, and I don’t feel like I belong here without you, and that I think, you didn’t want to do it, but you knew what you were doing, and you did it because some things just sound easier, or hurt more but hurt less than others, and that I despise the people that we’ve become. I despise the things that we’ve been made into, and I don’t know how much of it we did to ourselves. I don’t know how much I can change.

I won’t lie, Lemony, because I’ve never been much of a liar. It’s been hard without you. Bea and I haven’t been talking very much, and we get into arguments when we do. We’ve been avoiding each other. It’s hard to avoid someone you live with, for a lot of reasons. But we’ve been managing to do it. I’ve been hiding at the Denouement. Absolutely, definitely hiding. Dewey’s not pleased but he doesn’t say no to the help organizing the archives. Bea’s been going to the theater, even though she’s technically off-duty for the next seven months (it was self-imposed off-duty, which I’ll admit was surprising). When we do talk to each other, Bea has a tendency to raise her voice, which I don’t mind, necessarily, because I understand why she keeps doing it. I have a tendency of late to do the same, which I’m not proud of. Taking it out on each other isn’t good or responsible of us, but it’s where we are right now. It is a miserable place to be.

Bea assumes I’m upset with her, but I’m not. I’m upset with myself, mostly. I keep thinking that none of this would have happened if I wasn’t here, that I made things worse. If you and Bea had just gone on by yourselves, maybe there would be so much less unhappiness. Maybe I was what made it hard for you to stay. Maybe I pressured you, maybe I pressured myself. Maybe this is my lot in life. They’re awful things to think, but I’m thinking them. That’s what people do, when upsetting things happen. We try to figure out where we went wrong. We don’t come up with any answers, but it’s better than sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves, which we do enough of too. I know eventually we’ll stop hurting each other, Bea and I. It just feels a long way away right now. A lot of things feel that way. You, myself, my friends, anything I thought I knew or had.

I’m being very unkind, to myself. That’s not your fault. It’s just something I’m realizing now. I’ve spent a lot of my life being unkind to myself. I don’t know how not to be. There are many things I don’t believe that I deserve, a sentiment I know you understand. It’s hard to feel like we deserve anything, even what we love. The more I think about it, the more I think, maybe that was why. And that breaks my heart and scares me so much, Lemony, that we—you—are capable of feeling such sadness.

Honestly, part of me wants to keep waiting. The part of me that is a fairly patient person is probably willing to do so. But the other part of me that is less patient and a husband to both of you is the part that hurts, and the part that reminds me that I am allowed to say that there is only so much I can take. I want you here more than anything, but I know for sure none of this is ever going to be that simple again.

But going forward from this, I want to feel like I deserve things. There’s only so much time I can spend regretting, or hating myself, or wishing that I had done something different. It’s easy to get caught up in all of that, and I think I still will be, for a while. I think I’m going to keep thinking miserable things for some time to come. But on the other side of that is something else. Not necessarily a happiness, or a satisfaction, but a certain kind of existence. Or, I guess, a kindness.

I love you very much, Lemony, and I can’t imagine doing this without you. I still don’t want to.

But if you have to—Bea and I aren’t going anywhere. We’ll still be here. I can’t promise in what way, but we’ll be here, if or when or anything at all. I hope you can meet us in that something else one day.

Until then, with all my love,

I wish you bluebirds in the spring,

to give your heart a song to sing,

and then a kiss, but more than this,

I wish you love.

And in July, a lemonade

to cool you in some leafy glade,

I wish you health,

and more than wealth,

I wish you love.

My breaking heart and I agree

that you and I could never be,

so with my best,

my very best,

I set you free.

I wish you shelter from the storm,

a cozy fire to keep you warm,

but most of all,

when snowflakes fall,

I wish you love.

Bertrand

face the sun

in the night,

find it in the night

in the pieces,

dig for it,

dig it out with my hands alone.

yes.

what I left –

fragments,

every last eye,

unwelcome.

piling it back in.

new sunlight.

-------

So—the sad truth is that the truth is sad. The real truth is that I never wanted to believe you were right about that. I thought I could get by on good looks and sheer force and well-hidden optimism and believing I was right. I was wrong. We were all wrong, some of us more wrong than others.

Where you went wrong is thinking that we—that I—would be okay with this. And that was where I went wrong too, I admit. The blame could be with all of us.

What I do know is that we can’t be together like this. Not like this. This is where it ends.

I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that. I don’t know what Bertrand and I will do. And the two of us—Bertrand and I—can figure that out. In whatever way that is. Whatever you’re doing, I leave you to it.

You will—always, always, always—be (somewhere) in my mind, and (deep) in my heart, and wherever (wherever.) (parenthetical required.) you are. Be it a boat, or a cave, or the city, or a grave, true or false. That’s the way you want it. That’s the way I will accept it. Good luck.

Beatrice

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events

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srhlsx · 4 years ago

Text

* implied nsfw at the end

master | CHAPTER 1 | chapter 2

Fiddling with the keys in one hand, you shrugged your bag higher up on your shoulders while trying not to drop the pieces of toast in your other hand. When you’d gotten to the ground floor of your apartment complex and walked out to the main road of your neighborhood, the sun beat down and warmed your face.

You breathed in the morning air with a small smile and began your walk towards the bus stop a few blocks away. At first it took some time to get used to breathing in the combination of smoke and greasy foods, compared to the fresh cool air of where you had previously lived. Over the months of living in San Juan, the smell of the area you lived in became comforting and familiar.

The bus didn’t stop directly at the arena, but instead a few blocks away, so you were able to enjoy the sun and open air a little more before entering work for the next few hours. You entered through the employee entrance, stopping in the small space designated as your office to drop off your things. After slipping out of your sandals and into the clean athletic sneakers you always kept at the arena, you grabbed your binder of player information and notes and began your way through the facility halls.

Saying hello to a few of the other team workers, you made your way into the strength and conditioning room that seemed like your second home in this city. You could hear the sound of deep voices yelling, grunting, and laughing along with the sound of numerous weight machines banging together after being used. The deep bass of the music blasted through speakers and rattled your chest as you walked through the doors, a chorus of cheers and greetings also met your ears. Some were in languages you knew, a few slipped into their own native tongues but you understood the meaning.

You greeted one of your coworkers, a middle aged man who was the lead strength and conditioning coach for the team and your direct superior. He handed you a clipboard with a small stack of papers that held player information important to your role.

You’d only been on the job for about four months at this point, but you felt that you had gotten a good hold on things. You struck gold right out of your master’s program, applying on a wing and a prayer for the job as assistant conditioning coach and head nutritionist for a professional volleyball team in Argentina. You remembered the day they had called you saying they wanted to fly you out and get started right away, having found living arrangements and everything for you already. You accepted without hesitation, packed your things, and said goodbye to your parents only a few weeks after graduation.

Now, here you were. Surrounded by a team of athletes who adored you and a professional staff who took you seriously.

Calling out to a few players, you instructed them to follow you for their own conditioning set. Being that there were more players than trainers available you and the other coach usually had them break off into smaller groups for specific needs to accomplish more in the time you had available before they needed to start their actual practice.

“(Y/n), I think you've gotten prettier since yesterday.” You rolled your eyes with a grin at the tall blonde who had spoke to you with a broken accent. He grinned back at you playfully, taking a seat at the weight machine that you motioned towards.

“Flattery will not lighten the load of work I have for you,” You swatted at him with the clipboard in your hands and told him to get going on his reps. He grunted out a reply and did as he was told, giving a joking but knowing look to his teammates as well.

“You’re not her type,” One of the other players said as he came up behind to support the weight should his teammate need assistance. “Too old.”

You had to laugh a little behind your clipboard as the weights were noisily dropped back into the resting place as he sat up quickly. “Old?” He cried out. “I’m younger than you!”

“Hey!” You called out, catching their attention right away. “Focus more on your training than my love life or I’m placing both of you on double cardio for a week.”

“You wouldn’t…” They both looked at you skeptically, their faces having matching expressions of skepticism as they waited to see if you were serious.

You glanced down at the papers in your hands and flipped through them dramatically. You clicked the pen you held and pretended to write copious notes with a flourish, making an emphasis on your finishing mark and then looking up at them.

You sent them a flat, closed lip smile. “Done.”

“Hey,” You looked up from where you had been scribbling some notes on a player’s conditioning log in your office. A few had passed by already, done with their practice for the day and peeked in to say their goodbyes as they almost always did. Your eyes fell on a welcoming sight, the tall frame of one of the younger players on the team greeted you at your door. “We still on for tonight?”

The way he spoke, like there was a secret shared only between the two of you, made you smile as you leaned back in your chair. Well, it was a secret for the most part, the organization you worked for wouldn't necessarily mind, but it wouldn’t be the best for either of your careers should something bad ever happen.

You nodded your head, “Yes, but you have to promise to not distract me, we missed two episodes last time.”

“I’ll do my best,” He flashed an award-winning, shit-eating grin in your direction, bracing his hands on either side of the doorway and leaning forward as he winked at you. You had to roll your eyes at his playfulness, biting the inside of your cheek as you eyed him with a glint in your own eyes as you thought back to when all this had even started.

“(Y/n)! Hey~”

You were still unpacking a few random items around your office, you hadn’t been expecting a space of your own when you accepted the job so setting things up was still taking time. You turned around to greet whoever was knocking at your opened door, pushing your hair over one shoulder and stretching out your back as you came up to your full height.

“Hey Tooru,” You smiled at the figure in your doorway. He stood cooly opposite you, leaning against the doorframe without a care in the world. “Sorry, uh Oikawa. What’s up?”

“Tooru is fine. Well, I was seeing what you were up to tonight?” He asked, flashing you a dazzling smile that you’d been subject to a few times from a distance since starting your job with the volleyball club about a month earlier. “Maybe dinner? It’s nice finally having someone my age around, I’ve been the kid for too long.”

You squinted your eyes at him as you crossed your arms across your chest and leaned back against your desk. “Hector from marketing is our age,” You smirked, having an inkling of an idea where he was going with things but wanting to get him to actually say it out loud. “Why don’t you ask him to hang out?”

“Because I don’t want to get dinner with Hector from marketing.” He stated bluntly, lifting an eyebrow with an expression that read ‘You know what I mean’.

And did you ever.

“You bastard,” You mumbled against the pair of lips that were pressed against your own. They moved down to your neck, biting and sucking as they traveled which caused you to let out a moan in pleasure when he finally reached that spot below your ear. “You pr-promised not to-”

Your own gasp cut off your voice as Oikawa rolled his hips against yours, pressing you more firmly into his bed. Feeling his lips form into a smirk against your skin, you pulled a hand away from tugging at his hair and swatted the back of his head, making him laugh.

“I never promised,” He said, leaning back on his knees. His hands slowly dragged up your thighs and grabbed at the pair of cotton shorts you had worn over to his place that night. Playing with the hem and tickling the skin at your hip, making you squirm, he continued to smirk down at you.

You wiggled to lift your hips so he could tug the clothing down your legs, his head bending forward to press feather light kisses to the skin of your thighs as his fingers trailed along. The feeling of his touch left goosebumps in its wake, making the breath in your lungs shudder with anticipation. Your arms lifted behind you in a much needed cat stretch, your back arching and legs unwrapping themselves from around his hips as he began to slide further down the bed. His fingers gripped at the skin of your legs, getting a firm grasp on them as he lowered his head between them and nipped a trail of small bites up and down.

You hummed in satisfaction, very much enjoying where things were going until you felt Oikawa stop his caressing and prop his chin up on your stomach right below your belly button. “Yes?” You pulled your head up, reaching down to cradle his cheek with your hand.

“I’m just not sure this is within my diet,” He joked, looking up at you with a playful expression.

“I think I can make an exception,” You stated bluntly and pushed against his face. Oikawa laughed and gave your hand a light peck on the palm before dipping lower.

Your fingers wound their way into his hair and tugged. The sound of the two of your moans filled the space of the small apartment bedroom and carried on into the rest of the night.

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espejonight28738 · 5 years ago

Text

15×12, Galaxy Brain meta

Where we don't know Cas place in the story, because he won't be written by anyone

First of all, a warning: This was written with my clown makeup on🤡

Second of all, eternal thanks to @verobatto-angelxhunter without her, I would still be crying for somethkng that was surely an error of the writers, and this wouldn't have been possible XD.

Now, I've noticed that the strong belief that Cas was gonna be a key part of Chuck's defeating is... dying, to say it somehow. And honestly I don't understand because everything is crystal clear according to me.

When Billie gave the boy the whole "You are the messengers of God's destruction" speech (and hell that was intense) I think we all though the same.

Jack, Dean and Sam. Once again, it's like Cas is not even there.

In any other season, I would probably believe that's because the writers are professionals at ignoring Cas, and they are, but I don't think that's the reason this time.

You do not point out a problem and then continue to make the same mistake. It would be ridicoulus. This season they have been pointing at Cas unexplainable/forced absences since almost the begining.

After he was pretty much ignored in the first 2 episodes (except for the 'we are' speach which I'll love forever). Then, for the first time, he voluntary went away. Not because he had something to do, not because he felt undeserving of staying, and not because non-born Jack had mess with hos mind or whatever.

And from there we have his absence in 15×04 (my meta about that episode here) where it was CALLED OUT. Becky said it. "No one even mentions Cas." And that alone could be a funny meta-fiction moment, but it doesn't end there, right?

Funny that in a chapter we know Chuck was writting as we were seeing it, he didn't write Cas.

In 15×05 (meta here) we could see a more clear parallel between Sam and Dean/ the werewolves brother because the absence of Cas put them in an isoleted situation, similar to the one the werewolves lived in. Besides, this was another Written By Chuck Episode.

In 15×06 we did have Cas (yei), but he was on his own case. In an episode we *know* Chuck wrote (he confessed in 15×09 bringing Eileen back was part of his plan), Cas was in an unrelated case.

In 15×07, Cas comes back to the bunker. Just in time for Sam to go into Chuck's head. That was NOT Chuck's plan.

In 15×08 was still not Chuck's plan. He didn't want them to contact Micheal. Cas not only did that, he managed to persuade Micheal/Adam to help by sharing his memories of who Chuck really is.

In 15×09 we saw a preview of a possible future. In this one, is in Cas *absence* (him going mad and then being locked in the Ma'lak box) that Dean pretty much gives up. He still will do anything to help Sam, but the fight in him is gone. He accepts his "destiny" in ending of the story.

In 15×10 we have... another chapter completely (or mostly) written by Chuck. Taking their "main character powers" he's proving them, or at least trying to, that He is still the writer, and they are just the characters.

And again we have no Cas. Curious, isn't it? Almost as if Chuck can't make him his character.

In 15×11 we have Cas separated of Dean and Sam again. Here I think 2 detalis are specially important.

First, the moment Cas gets re-introduced, his mission is to re-introduce Jack again. Then, we know for sure Cas keeps playing outside of Chuck's game, never once being his piece.

Second, we have Dean and Sam compared to "Heros, like in the old times". Don't get me wrong, I LOVED that, almost cry, but something about it kept bothering me.

I kept trying to write a meta about it, but I couldn't define the problem. Now I find it.

Think of any hero of the greek/roman mythology. Anyone.

They all are peons of the Gods. Hector, Aquilles, Odysseus, Perseus, Theseus, Heracles, Jason.

They always are solving the Gods' messes, or they are a piece in the Gods' games of chess. Or they ended up in the bad side of a God and for that has a less than ideal story (as Heracles about that one XD).

Some of them have better endings than other, but none of them are really free, are they? Always submitted to the will of the Gods. Those are the people Fortuna was comparing Dean and Sam to.

And Cas was, once again, absent.

Finally 15×12. @verobatto-angelxhunter kinda beat me to say it (here her meta), but the fact that Billie, who was one of the most important rols in bringing Chuck's demisse, took the time to remind us that she is Death because Cas killed her as a ripper. He wrote that part of the story.

Even though he did such a crucial thing, he doesn't get mentioned as "messenger of God's destruction" (Billie was so extra with that I love her).

I mean, even if he was k-word before they ended Chuck, he has played a good enough part to at least have some recognition, right? Right??

Unless Billie doesn't know.

Unless it's something that doesn't happen in the books. It's not like the books can't make mistakes. The book were wrong about the Ma'lak box as the only non-apocalyptic outcome for the whole Micheal mess. (The solution there was Jack, who is also someone who doesn't play by Chuck's rules and wasn't part of the story) (And is alive because of Cas' taking care of Kelly and the his deal with the Empty. All of that was Cas.)

Going back in the episode to Chuck's monologue in the store. In the TVs we could see all the AU that "didn't spark joy". That gave him the ending he wanted but lacked something.

You remember what called my attention of Sam's dreams of the AUs? Cas wasn't in any of them. Even if we know he must have existed (Benny appearing is an indication of that) Chuck just got rid of him at some point. That is what all those non-sparklers of joy have in common. Then, is not naïve to think, taking all I have already said in this meta into account, that this Cas has something none of the others had. A glitch that allows him to be the blue pill or something like that.

"But that's something pretty big, they would have to talk about it eventually." Y'all may be thinking.

Yes, they need to adress it eventually. You know, if only they confirmed a Cas-centric episode...

...yeah, exactly like that.

The first Castiel centric episode we have since, what? The Man Who Would Be King?

He needed an entire episode because it turned out he had been lying to the Winchester the whole season. He was now the big bad of season 6. Of course he needed an episode.

What do you think they can do with a Cas-centric episode now?

Tagging: @metafest @agusvedder @legendary-destiel @that-one-fandom-chick @studio-hatter

#supernatural meta #castiel meta #spn 15×12 #spn s15 #galaxy brain #supernatural #castiel #my metas

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borderlandsthirst · 4 years ago

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Song of Sisterhood

Tiora isn’t like almost everyone else, it’s said that awakening your siren powers is traumatic, or causes trauma. For Tiora, it was both. When she acquired Steele’s powers, it was in the middle of the night in her bunk, she felt a burning sensation crawling up her left arm and spreading over her chest and back. Her gasp of pain awoke a few of her bunkmates, there was nothing they could do, they couldn’t identify the cause of her agony. But when they saw tattoos etching they’re way across her skin it was too late, the devasting pain erupted from her body in a furious blast of energy, disintegrating everyone in the bunk.

The explosion woke the rest of the camp, in the mist of the debris stood Tiora, left arm covered in siren marks and unscathed, there was no way for her to explain what happened or how. Not like she was given a chance, as soon as their eyes landed on her arm they were shooting, Tiora had no choice but to flee the place she called home for years, that night left her mentally and emotionally scared.

Years of fighting in the military already left her wounded in more ways than one, but being chased out of Tediore, the only thing she’s known for years, broke her more.

But there is something new for her to hang onto, the song of the sisterhood, what it is she can’t say, but it pulls her without her even knowing it. The sisterhood is where all sirens belong, it is a safe place, it is a place not only of belonging, but love. If she can find the sisterhood she won’t be as miserable anymore.

There are two reasons Tiora goes to Pandora, to find her brother, and to find the sisterhood, she isn’t aware of the second reason, not yet anyway. Meeting Lilith and Maya changed her life, she had a new family, even after losing Roland, she still had the sisterhood and the other Crimson Raiders. She wasn’t alone, and Roland was watching over her from somewhere.

The years passed and Tiora started to feel whole again, even though her new family was very odd, she loved them like blood, she was still heartbroken about Angel, but as long as she, Maya, and Lilith stuck together, they would be fine.

But Hector had to come and attack Sanctuary, she doesn’t even know how the hell they got up there but they started turning the civilians into plant mutants and that’s when shit really hit the fan.

The journey to get back to Sanctuary was a long one, but it was all in vain, Hector refused to die so Lilith teleported everyone away, the only option for defeating Hector was blowing him up, and the city along with him. She thought she lost Lilith but she PhasedWalked back to them, relief was all she could feel.

After that the Crimson Raiders split off into groups to look for the Vault key and for other vaults on different planets. Tiora stayed on Pandora to help find Pandora’s vault key/map and strengthen their forces, training isn’t easy when you have only the slack-jaw, disease-ridden inhabitance of a dry up, crusty planet. She does her best to stay patient and positive, it doesn’t always work though.

As time went on Tiora form her own group of soldiers to seek out the vault map for Lilith, training and growing her powers as she fended off the sudden appearance of the COV, but to be honest. She felt a little bad for all these people, the longer she stayed on Pandora the more she learned about the bandits and their life before the madness. Just normal people who worked for corporations that didn’t give a damn about them, just cannon fodder to be tossed aside once they’re no longer useful, just human trash.

But Tiora fought on, if they attacked her, she killed them, there was no other option. But they were growing in numbers, no matter how many she killed they just kept coming, they even started building camps across the borderlands, and statues of two E-thots she didn’t know. It didn’t matter, if she sees them, she’ll kill them and move along.

But the COV grew every day in strength, and one by one her crew was picked off until was the only one left. She never stayed hidden though, she just kept fucking everyone up left and right so everyone would fear her. But they apparently feared the wrath of someone name Tyreen Calypso more.

It wasn’t until months into this battle that Tiora caught her first glimpse of a Livescream, both Troy and Tyreen Calypso stood on a deck as they watched their followers tear civilians and themselves apart for these fake Gods amusement. As soon as she saw them the song of the Sisterhood rang throughout her head, they were both sirens, Troy song was weaker, but he was still one, nonetheless.

But these two were twisted, disgusting little masochist who needed to be stopped. She didn’t want to kill them, just “dethrone” them. But there was no way she could do that alone. She’d need her family, luckily Lilith needed her too, although it took a while to get to her, Tiora rejoined the CR and set about her journey from Pandora to Promethea.

There’s actually way more to this but I had to get something out before I left, since I’m a slow writer it might take me til tomorrow to finish this. So here you go, Happy early New Year since it’s still a few hours left for me.

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #Tiora #My writing #happy new year #trying to make up my own lore #lore?#Siren lore is a bit wack

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ograndebatata · 4 years ago

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Silver Linings

So... I’ve actually had this fic pretty much complete for weeks now, but I recently got motivated to polish it up and share it here, for... well... I’m not sure why, and honestly there may be many motivating factors, but... anyway, here it is.

I hope you enjoy it.

Note: Like pretty much every Elena of Avalor fanfic by me, this one takes place in my Tales of the Ever Realm AU. To give a bit of context on what it is, it’s basically an AU where all of Sofia the First is canon, and all of Elena of Avalor episodes until Snow Place Like Home (in terms of ‘timeline order’) are canon. Details and characters from later episodes will sometimes be used, but there are many important differences between my fic AU and canon.

One of those, as will be clear from reading this fic, is that in this AU, Ash Delgado has a genuinely and healthily loving relationship with both her husband and daughter (although we really only get to see the former in this one) and also is just a much better person in general, though still with a few traits of her canon self. I hope you will enjoy it for what it is, and I apologize in advance to those who happen to prefer the canon versions of her character and her relationships.

Also, I tried my best to make this fic strong enough to stand on its own, but I realize a few details may still come across as confusing. I apologize for that in advance as well. If you’d like any sort of clarification, please feel free to ask.

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Note #2: There is some stuff in this fic that can be seen as slightly suggestive. Nothing full-blown NSFW, but still, there is a bit of steaminess. Those who aren’t particularly fond of such content want to tread carefully. I may be worrying too much over nothing, but... I feel it’s better to be safe than sorry.

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Note #3: Although I tried my best to make it strong enough to be read on its own, this fic works better read as a sequel to @lostbutterflyutau‘s fic The Second Navidad, which she wrote for me as a Christmas gift last Christmas, and which I liked so much that I decided to make it canon to my fic universe. If you’d like to read it, I strongly recommend it.

And on that note, I say the same thing regarding all of her Elena of Avalor fics. They're full of well-written characters, great portrayals of feelings of all kinds, and wonderfully fluffy moments of the romantic, the friendship, and the familial kinds. I strongly recommend them all. Also, if you read them and like them, please take the time to leave her some feedback, even if it's only a few words. Remember that taking even only a few seconds to give feedback leads to better environments for fanworks of all kinds.

With that said... let us begin.

///

Silver Linings

The Kingdom of Norberg, February 14th, Year 9222 of the Ever Realm Calendar…

A series of sharp knocks cut through the cabin’s main room, making Ash Delgado jump in her chair as the sound brought her struggle with her focus to an abrupt end, ruining her already feeble efforts at forcing herself to study the weathered yellow page she held, trying beyond her best to find a solution to the dilemma she’d been struggling with for over a year.

One of her hands slammed the page against the table as her other one reflexively curled around her tamborita; the next instant, her ears picked up the last few knocks that rapped against the wooden boards. Her heart settled down as the force and rhythm behind the sounds told her who had arrived, drawing a relieved sigh from her as she released the drum wand’s handle. Ash looked up at the closed door on cue with its lock clicking as a key was turned inside it. The next moment, the door drew inwards, making her grimace at the chilly air that entered the cabin, followed soon after by her husband.

“I’m home!” Victor announced as he closed the door behind him, before wiping a few fresh snowflakes off his shoulders and setting down a bag of canvas he’d been carrying.

Then, as his eyes fell on her, still by the table she’d been sitting at since he left - though now with layers of pages scattered over its surface - a sheepish smile uneasily crawled across his features.

“Did I interrupt anything?”

A mock-annoyed smirk curling her lips, Ash teased, “Not this time.”

Besides, even if he had, his loud arrival was one of the safety norms that they and their daughter had established for whenever they stayed anywhere: to always make their presence known when arriving, to ensure they conveyed they weren’t any unexpected visitor.

Still, the sheepish look remaned on Victor’s features as he unclasped his cloak and hung it on a hook beside the door, before walking over towards her. Smiling at him, Ash reached up to his face and settled her hand on his jawline as he rested his’ between her shoulder blades, closing her eyes as the two of them leaned towards each other and put their lips together. Cold seeped into her fingers as the mixed smell of salty air, tobacco smoke, cooked bacon and burned wood floated into her nostrils, but Ash kept her fingers on his face and pressed her lips further into his’, holding both her touch and her kiss for a few more seconds.

Then, as she and Victor both pulled away and she opened her eyes, a faint chuckle bubbled up her throat at the sight she beheld.

Victor blinked in puzzlement. “What?”

Suppressing another chuckle, Ash explained, “Your mouth is full of lipstick.”

Again. She inwardly added, as pointless as it was. Victor’s mouth or face ending up full of lipstick when they kissed was as big a given as water being wet or as the sun rising everyday. But Ash liked her makeup in the style she wore it, and she knew that for all his playful grumbling, Victor also did.

Giving an easygoing chuckle himself, Victor reached up with his free hand and rubbed it across his mouth, the faint dark-blue sparks she saw flying from his fingertips telling her what he was trying to do. Alas, the final results were different from the intended, the smear on his lips only spreading further across his face, bringing a stronger chuckle out of her.

“Here,” she said, removing her own hand from his jawline, silvery-grey sparks swarming around her fingers. “I’ll do it for you.”

Saying so, she swept her magic-filled hand over his face, the smudges of lipstick vanishing in her fingers’ wake.

“I guess this just shows I still need more practice,” he said good-naturedly as he straightened himself, caressing her ponytail along the way.

He glanced around the room as he righted himself, then turned back to her and asked, “Did Carla leave already?”

“Princess Chloe asked her to go early,” Ash explained. “Apparently so the two of them can properly help Queen Abigail get ready for her date with King Hector. And Carla said that because she was spending the night at the palace anyway, she might as well stay over already.”

Nodding in acknowledgment, Victor walked over to her right and pulled up the chair beside her, sinking onto it with a pensive look on his face, the expression looking more pronounced thanks to his placement against the lit fireplace that burned a few feet away. Ash knew without having to ask that he was having a bout of the same struggle they had both endured since Carla had unintentionally struck up a friendship with the princess of Norberg. On one hand, it was good that Carla had made a friend, at least for the duration of their stay here. On the other, Norberg was a close ally to Avalor, and even if wanted posters of him and Carla hadn’t made it here yet (and weren’t likely to be sent now that neither of them had been to Avalor for over a year), it could still happen, especially given that Princess Chloe was at least a friendly acquaintance of Princess Elena. Or then, the Crown Princess of Avalor or someone closely associated with her could unexpectedly drop by and recognize him or Carla, which would at best mean they’d have to leave, and at worst might literally spell their dooms. And that was assuming none of their more dangerous enemies was lurking in the shadows, planning something that Ash could easily conceive as far more horrible than anything Princess Elena would ever do to them if she caught them.

But Carla knew she needed to be careful, and the three of them were making sure to keep an eye on anyone who seemed suspicious, just like their jaquin allies were doing. With luck, Carla’s friendship with Princess Chloe would just keep going without incident during their final two weeks or so in Norberg.

“How did things go at the harbor?” Ash brought up, out of genuine interest as much as out of a wish to change subjects.

The deepening of Victor’s frown answered her question well enough, but still, he replied, “Not very well. There weren’t many sailors there, it being the day it is and all, and most of those I found were more interested in drowning their sorrows or seeking other forms of consolation than in talking about some mysterious kingdom.” As he caught sight of Ash’s own frown, he added, “No thanks to it being the day it is, I guess. After all, it was the same thing during Sweetheart’s Day in Avalor.”

Though that didn’t make her feel any better, Ash gave him a reassuring smile. After all, it wasn’t his fault that today was Valentine’s Day - or Dia del Amor y la Amistad, as her parents had called it, due to it being the holiday’s name in both Paraiso and Cordoba. Most sailors who’d ordinarily be in taverns or at the harbor were likely to be with their girlfriends or wives or families, and those that weren’t would either be too busy with work or too sullen at their lack of companionship to be in a chatty mood.

“Was any sailor at all willing to talk?” she probed.

Victor shrugged.

“Some were. But most of those couldn’t tell me anything about that place, and the only two that could didn’t tell me anything we don’t already know.” He stopped, his eyes clouding over as he mentally sorted out his words. “They said that that kingdom looks clean and calm enough from a distance, and the rulers seem friendly enough, but there’s just something under its surface that doesn’t quite make it an inviting place, and anyone going farther than the harbor automatically needs a full guard unit escorting them because of the land’s perils.” His frown deepened even further, his eyes narrowing to the point they seemed to turn into two black holes thanks to the shadows from the fireplace. “In a sense, it’s like a more extreme version of what I heard Avalor was like under Shuriki’s rule.”

Ash pursed her lips, the mere reference to that woman’s name making her temper flare. She might have come to terms with her husband having fallen for Shuriki’s lie that she could make him and Carla malvagos, but having that daemonfirma brought up in conversation still made her blood boil. Good for her that she was dead, because if Ash had gotten to fight her for a third time, she would have done everything she could to ensure their fight would end with Shuriki having a departure far more painful than the one Princess Elena had given her.

Forcing herself to push aside the hatred that still burned at her, Ash said, “Well, at least we have more evidence that that kingdom is not a place where we want to stay any longer than absolutely necessary.” Her heart growing heavier, she added, “Unfortunately, we still need to go there.”

His forehead creasing, Victor gave her a sympathetic look.

“Things also didn’t go well over here then?”

The tiredness and frustration from her mostly wasted afternoon rearing up like a striking snake, Ash let out a long sigh.

“Yes and no,” she settled on.

Victor didn’t even blink at her response, his sympathetic look staying the same as before.

Taking a deep breath to gather herself, she explained, “On the good side, I went over my improved potion recipes again just to be safe, and it held up again. The improvements I made will be enough so that neither of the potions will take quite as many moon cycles to achieve its purpose.” Her heart again grew heavier as she once more realized what it implied, but she forced herself to add, “On the bad side, there still are a few ingredients for both potions that just can’t be replaced with anything found somewhere else.”

Victor’s mouth again started to curl into a frown.

“So… that means…”

Ash nodded.

“There’s no way around a trip to that kingdom that seems out of a mix between a crime novel and a horror story. It’s still the only place where some of the ingredients we need exist, and God knows how long we’ll take to find them all.”

Again, Victor narrowed his eyes so much that the fireplace made it seem like he had two black holes in his eye sockets. Ash narrowed her eyes as well, the weight of the implication hanging over her like a boulder sustained by the finest thread that was about to break. The idea of spending any amount of time in that kingdom was anything but pleasant. And having to stay there for who knew how long (at least a year, to give an optimistic estimate) only made it worse.

“And that’s not all,” Ash forced herself to go on. “It’s not even the worst part.”

Victor sat the tiniest bit straighter, his eyes opening ever so slightly.

“What’s the rest?”

Her answer seemed to swirl around in her throat, as if trying to come out, but unable to find its way to her mouth for some reason. Though she knew Victor wouldn’t judge her or think less of her, and she had never lied to him, admitting to her failures or inabilities was not something she had ever or would ever like. After all, they were failures or inabilities, which Ash had always loathed, even back when she had just been Seentahna.

But despite being a dark wizard, Ash knew how wrong it was to be dishonest, especially to the man she loved, and she knew he felt the same towards her. Neither had ever lied to each other, and she wouldn’t be the one starting now.

“I think we may be doing all of this for nothing,” she at last managed to say.

Reading Victor’s question in the way his eyebrow moved up his forehead, Ash reached towards one of the papers on the table and lifted it aside, exposing a round purple orb around the size of an orange, the orb somehow feeling as heavy in her hand as if it was made of cast iron.

“I can’t know for sure without looking at the Codex Maru, but the more I study this blasted thing, the more unlikely it seems that we will be able to channel its power as we want to, if we manage to fix it in the first place,” she explained as she raised the jewel.

The words forced its way out of her like thick mud mixed with sharp knives. Just having to utter them made her heart sink almost as much as them being true. Another smile dawned on Victor’s lips, his hands moving over and curling around her right hand like a comforting blanket, his thumbs ghosting over her knuckles in a tender caress.

“It’s alright, Pluma,” he whispered. “We can get through this.”

Despite the warmth in both his gaze and voice, the weight in her chest didn’t fade. She wouldn’t give up his support for anything, but what she really needed was a miraculous breakthrough on how to use the Jewel of Night, or on another way to recharge it. Ideally, both. Because as things stood now, achieving even one of her goals seemed borderline impossible. All means to recharge the Jewel of Night that she knew were difficult to put in practice, and many of the ingredients they would need to make both the potion that would repair it and the one that would recharge it (assuming they would manage to find a certain key ingredient for that one) came from plants and animals that had already been rare when she was a child. If even one of those had already gone extinct, they’d be right back where they started, and the Jewel of Night would be good for little more than to place on a shelf as decoration.

And even if they managed to fix it and recharge it, the only thing that might have anything on how to properly siphon its power into them was the Codex Maru, assuming that could be done in the first place. And to get the Codex Maru, they’d need to face Princess Elena, who could wield the Scepter of Light, and her Royal Wizard, who was Alacazar’s grandson and was all but certain to take after his grandfather if he’d managed to defeat a malvago powerful and skilled enough to cast the malvago-making spell on Victor and Carla at the same time and successfully pull it off.

Whoever said malvago was, defeating him would have been an impressive feat for any wizard, but it was all the more so coming from a boy who hadn’t even been eighteen when he did so. And the boy would only have grown more powerful since then. Even now that Victor and Carla had grown much more powerful themselves, Ash knew the three of them would need a good plan and a very healthy amount of luck to get the Codex on their own. And if she had to guess, they would only have one try, because if they got caught, Princess Elena was bound to execute them all.

The thought hitting her like a blasting spell, Ash’s gaze snapped away from Victor, the fear that too often lingered at the bottom of her heart suddenly shooting up to the surface, her eyes wide as if to let it fly out. The next moment, twin caresses ran over the back of her hand, soft despite the roughness of the skin giving them. Though she knew where they came from without needing to look, Ash turned to meet Victor’s eyes, which still glowed with the same warmth.

“Let’s not think about that now,” he said. “Let’s think about something else.”

An empty smile flitted across her face, her gaze turning away from his’. As if drawn to it, her eyes fell on the Jewel of Night, stared into its opaque depths, the emptiness within it seeming to remind her of how difficult their mission was, and yet how they needed to accomplish it if they were to ever be truly at peace. To think Victor made it sound so easy. To put aside something that their lives in a sense literally depended on, as easily as if it was a matter of deciding not to wear clothes they didn’t particularly like.

“I’ve had practice,” he replied as if he had read her mind, a playful smirk on his lips.

Against her wishes, Ash allowed herself a small smile. Quips aside, she knew that must be true. After all, he had managed to keep himself and their daughter alive and safe, despite having very few magical skills before he was made a malvago. More than that, he had managed to raise Carla as happy and well-adjusted as their circumstances allowed, and done a better job of it than she imagined most men and some women would.

But that still didn’t change the main point.

“If we don’t think about it now, we’ll have to think about it later,” she insisted, even as she lowered the hand holding the Jewel of Night.

Her words came out tense, almost solid, but Victor simply kept giving her the same warm smile from before, rubbed his thumbs across the back of her hand again. Then, he rose from his chair and moved to stand behind her, taking his hands to her hair and releasing the knot in her hair tie, the tiniest sense of relief washing over her as a slight pressure left her head, her hair spreading out from its ponytail and cascading free to below the middle of her back. Though she couldn’t see him, she felt Victor smiling as he curled a hand around her hair, his other one gently scratching her scalp. A wider smile breaking through her lips, Ash hummed in delight, leaning back into her chair, guessing what he intended to do. As she expected, Victor lifted her hair so it wouldn’t be stuck between her and the back of the chair, his hands then settling on her head and running over her white locks like a hairbrush, spreading the strands apart and gently easing tangles and knots.

A louder hum flowing through her, Ash tilted her head back as Victor pressed the tips of his fingers to her hairline, before gently but firmly running them back, tension falling apart in their wake as he caressed her scalp.

“I know it’s difficult, Pluma,” he whispered. “Believe me, I had more than enough time to learn it on my own.” His voice shivered the slightest bit at those words, and Ash knew he was remembering his and Carla’s many close escapes over the almost fifteen years she hadn’t been with them. “But we’ll figure out how to use the Jewel of Night.” He ran his fingers over her scalp again. “And even if we don’t, we’ll find some other way to get rid of the Evergrowing Forest.”

Ash chuckled mirthlessly.

“You talk as if the odds are on our side.”

Running his fingers over her scalp once more, he replied, “I’d rather think I talk as someone who chooses to keep on believing things will get better. And as someone who was lucky despite the odds.” He reached downwards and slid his thumbs in a half-circle behind her ears, bringing them forward rubbing them over her cheeks. “And more than once at that.”

Frowning at the second sentence, Ash knitted her eyebrows as he moved his fingers back up to her scalp, rubbing continuous circular motions from her hairline to her nape.

“I was lucky enough to meet you in the first place,” he went on. “I was lucky enough to run into you again and start to know you better. I was lucky enough to reunite with you more than twelve years after losing track of you. And I was lucky enough to reunite with you a second time almost fifteen years after we got separated again. And I could make a longer list.”

Unable to help herself, Ash turned her head even farther upwards, literally smiling up at him as he looked down and gave her a smile of his own.

“I don’t suppose I could argue against that,” she replied.

His hands rubbed just a bit harder across her scalp, a sigh rolling out of her lips as relief surged from his fingertips and rushed through her.

“I was lucky as well,” she added. “On all those accounts, and more.”

Yes. Ash thought, sighing once more as he massaged her scalp again and relief rushed through her being once more.

Despite everything, she had been lucky. Probably luckier than she deserved after everything she had done. Not only for getting to meet Victor and getting to reunite with him a grand total of three times - or two, if she only counted those after they had actually started their relationship - but also for having a wonderful daughter who she loved and who loved her back, and for getting to be with them both and just be able to be a family despite the threats hanging over their heads.

Victor must have read something on her face again, for he said, “So... back to not thinking of unpleasant matters for now… why don’t you put these things away, and I can tell you an idea I’ve had?”

A deep groan rolling from her lips as Victor’s motions suddenly reversed, she fake-glared at him.

“You should know by now that I don’t take orders from anyone.”

She felt his hands temporarily stop their movements as he shrugged.

“I prefer to look at it as an invitation.” His massage still halted, he crouched to whisper in her ear. “Though it’s one I confess I would very much like you to accept, mi amor.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?” she breathed as he straightened himself up, a deep sigh flowing out of her. “Very well. What is it?”

“Uh-uh-uh!” he tut-tutted. “I’m not seeing anything put away...”

Her eyes narrowed at his response, a low mock-grumble joining her change in expression. He really knew her a bit too well.

“Watch out, Victor,” she teased. “You don’t want to fall prey to the stereotype that men can’t keep a house.”

He again ran his fingers through her hair, the white locks parting in their wake. “It’s more like I don’t want to go against how you like to be the one putting your own things away, especially when it comes to magical studies.”

Another affected grumble rippled out of her mouth. Again, he knew her too well.

“Very well then,” she conceded, her fingers curling around her tamborita’s handle.

On cue once more, Victor withdrew his hands from her hair and curled them over the sides of her chair, pulling it back exactly as she stood up and drew her drum wand, then aimed it at the table’s surface.

“Llévaluq!” she chanted as she smacked the drum.

Identical silvery-grey glows bloomed around each page spread over the table, as well as around the purple gem she’d been studying for hours. Ash fiddled her fingers as if she was playing a harp; the papers bent and swerved and turned over the table like flying carpets before settling into a neat stack, the gathered pile of pages then flying into the shelf behind her with a beckoning motion from her hand. The Jewel of Night followed in their wake with the same gesture, but swerved slightly to the right and upwards, stopping its course once it hovered above a small, seemingly ordinary light yellow jar with rectangular Maruvian patterns of a darker shade over its surface.

She directed a look at Victor as she held the jewel in place. The next instant, he drew his own tamborita and aimed it at the jar.

“Piikrete tarruyniu waaygico!” he chanted, punctuating each word with a smack on the tamborita.

After the last smack resounded through the cabin, a dark-blue glow bloomed around the drum as Victor raised his hand, the jar’s lid floating about a foot off and allowing Ash to slide the Jewel of Night in. Hearing the low clatter of it landing, she holstered her tamborita as Victor lowered his hand, setting the lid on its place.

Sliding his tamborita into its own holster, Victor turned to her with a smile, reaching out with his left hand. “Now, where were we?”

Taking his hand, Ash replied. “You were about to make an invitation.”

He raised his arm in response, in time with Ash twirling in place, her hair fanning out as she completed her spin and then stepped towards Victor’s chest as he drew her to him, wrapping both arms around her as he settled his lips on her neck.

“I was thinking…” he halted his words to kiss her neck “...that you could wait here while I run you a nice warm bath…” he kissed a slightly higher spot “... and then you take the time to enjoy it while I cook a special dinner with what I brought…” So that’s what’s in the bag! Ash thought as he kissed below her ear “... and then we could have our second celebration of Dia del Amor y la Amistad.” he finished, tenderly kissing her cheek.

Her eyes widened at the words, her heart leaping slightly in her chest. Their second celebration! Amidst her frayed nerves after repeated failures with the Jewel of Night, she had completely forgotten about that! Not about the celebration they and Carla had had that morning - after all, it had been the first time the three of them properly celebrated Dia del Amor y la Amistad since her return - but about the second celebration that was meant to be just for her and Victor, which they had even talked about more than once over the previous days.

I really need to stop thinking about that jewel if it can make me forget something like that.

Victor chuckled as if she had spoken her words rather than thinking them, the curling of his lips telling her that he was cooking up a joke.

“You know, as far as stereotypes go, it’s men who are said to forget romantic celebrations…” he brought up.

Despite the laugh at his quip, Ash reached back and nudged Victor’s nose with her index finger.

“Watch your tongue, Mister. If I get annoyed, you’re going straight to the couch tonight.”

He gave her a melodramatic gape, put a hand to his chest. “Oh, the horror!...”

Taking her chance, Ash twisted out of his embrace and then pressed herself flush to him, wrapping one arm around his shoulder and sinking her other hand into his hair as her lips leapt upwards to claim his. He engulfed her in another embrace, resting his hands on her back as their mouths met. For a heartbeat, their lips started to glide over each other’s, both reading the other’s intention to take things slowly. But then, like alcohol meeting a cinder, their passion seemed to explode through their bodies, leaping the frustrations this day had brought them both as their lips devoured each other time and time again, each trying to both drain their pent up tension and help the other with their own, somehow wanting to put out and build the fire flowing between them at the same time. Awareness of everything faded into the background as they devoted every bit of their focus to the flutter of each other’s hands and mouths, to the feeling of each other’s touch, to the warmth of their kisses.

It seemed to last an eternity before they drew apart, looking into each other’s eyes like hypnotized, as if they were floating.

Then, despite herself, Ash burst into chuckles, taking her hand to her lips in a token attempt at suppressing them.

Amusement twinkling in his own eyes, Victor curled an eyebrow and blew through his pursed lips.

“I’m full of lipstick again, right?”

Her suppressed laughter slowly fading, Ash summoned magic into her other hand and waved it over Victor’s face, the lipstick smudges dispelling under the sparks swarming around her fingers.

Lowering her hand as she let the magic fade, Ash drawled, “So… that warm bath?”

“Coming right up,” he replied with a mock-casual tone and a warm smile as he lowered his arms.

Realizing she would need to let him go for him to run her bath, Ash pulled away, following him with her eyes as he headed to their cabin’s small bathroom.

A warm bath sounded nice indeed. While cleansing charms could do the job just as well, and far more quickly, they couldn’t equal the peaceful feeling of sinking into the warm water and feeling it melting the tension from within her, making her stop thinking about the day’s concerns better than the best mind control spell.

It wouldn’t really make them go away, she knew. However good this night was, their concerns wouldn’t become any less real, and the Evergrowing Forest would remain a threat to their lives until they managed to destroy it.

But at least tonight, Ash would enjoy what she had to be thankful for.

#elena of avalor #my fanfiction #tales of the ever realm au #ash delgado #victor delgado #a bit of fluff #some suggestive content #but not too bad i think

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diabolikmosquito · 5 years ago

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Just-Watched Thoughts on S3

Alright time to write this while I’m still here recovering so I can go to bed already. I might add more/clean this up once I get some proper sleep. Tagging it but putting Castlevania Season 3 spoilers under a cut just in case people haven’t got tags hidden and such. Here goes-

Overall I’m honestly just kinda shocked? I think it’s because a lot of things were easy to predict (that the cult might be trying to bring back Dracula, something was up with the Judge, Hector was obviously gonna fall for Lenore’s bs, etc.) so when things happened I didn’t see from a mile away..

When I was only like an episode or two in, things actually felt a little stunted to me? Something about it felt like “This is what people liked from before, right??” particularly with certain action or such, but I feel like it picked up pretty quickly from that. I’m still kinda in winding-down-emotions mode so I can’t really definitively say what storylines I liked and which ones I disliked for the most part. I liked Isaac’s, and the design of the... Hivemind Magician? Was all pretty sick. It felt like the first thing that was actually a massive challenge for him, and nearly overtook him, but he overcame it and even came out of it thinking through what he wanted for the future. It’s a nice change from seeing him steamroll anything that came his way.

I like that Trevor and Sypha’s storyline ends up with them not getting their heroic grand time like they did last time. Yes, there were sacrifices made, but before it still felt grandiose: they’d worked together to kill Dracula, something the world didn’t even think possible for the most part. This time, they sacrificed a lot more and ultimately didn’t win a thing other than their own lives, and were helping a hidden monster in their process of killing other monsters. What a crushing thing for them to have to go through, and I think Trevor’s conversation with himself before (and later with said monster, ironically enough) about missing parts of his old non-heroic non-adventuring life was pretty somber and interesting.

The whole Lenore/Hector route was exactly what’s expected from the beginning, but it was done well for what it was, and I don’t think they were trying to fool anyone with the direction it was headed. Carmilla’s plot was.. eh, more or less not much seemed to actually happen, but it did introduce us to the awesome vampire sisters so I’m more than down with it. I wish we got a little more about Saint Germain’s whole deal with that portal and such, who he was looking for and how he knows they’re still alive in there, but I assume that’s a next-season kind of thing. I’m gonna ramble if I write anymore so here’s a more concise/clear list:

Things I liked - Trevor and Sypha’s chemistry! I thought it was good the first couple seasons (which apparently puts me in the minority?) but they felt much more compatible as a couple this time around. The little exchange about the “taste for rougher things in life” is wonderful, and I definitely snorted when she sleep-bapped him in the face. - The tidbits of funny dialogue! Seems to still be a show specialty. Some of them were understandably a bit funny (using “Nope! speedwalks away” in place of “shut it” is pretty good), and others weren’t funny but I just found it hilarious (e.g. Morana’s repeated fancily-stated things that boiled down to “... Lenore, seriously, TMI”) - The soundtrack! Not really any surprise, despite it not being the famous Symphony of the Night tracks people clamored for trust me I totally get that and despite it still not being released even from season 2 much less 3, it was very nice to listen to. - The vampire sisters! While it was obvious from the beginning Lenore was the “cutest/nonthreateningest-looking of the scary bunch but actually the scariest” one I liked the energy they all had, especially Striga and Morana and their relationship. I liked that we got to see Carmilla’s attitude bouncing off of other vampires who (while respecting her skill) also called her out for it from time to time. - The references! I’m sure there’s more and I’m a dumbass who only spots the obvious ones, but... the fact there’s demons that’re exactly ones out of the ol’ Symphony of the Night game again, like the Malachi and Fire Demon. It’s so dumb but I love shit like that, especially since they obviously stray far from the game canon and don’t have to do that but do it anyway. - Some of the action scenes. I cannot mention what I like without mentioning the parts that made me go “... Okay, yeah, that was badass.” You know the ones! When Cho busted that sword with her hands, when Sypha chopped that angel-like demon into pieces. ... A lot of the stuff Sypha did, actually, I’m glad she got some more epic moments to kick ass this season. I thought the earlier action scenes of the season were just alright, but by the last fight it was definitely starting to feel like that awesome dynamic fight style we saw in season 2. - The fact Dracula saw an opportunity to return and didn’t want to. Not much to say here other than the obvious - I feel like that’s extremely fitting, and I’m glad they made it clear without bringing him back and having him be angry/regret it or something like that. Without any dialogue, even. - The ending.. somewhat. It destroyed me a little on the inside, but I actually like that nobody really had a happy ending. Particularly if there could be another season, it feels really fitting. I’ve seen some people complaining “They ended up where they started! Trevor and Sypha are back on the road, Isaac’s traveling with his army, Alucard’s alone in the castle and Hector is a slave” but I couldn’t disagree more. Of course if you boil it down to the words themselves, it’s “the same,” but did ya see the sheer trauma literally everyone was put through? Obviously some had it worse than others (and we’ll fucking get to that) but nobody came out unscathed. Everyone’s now had some belief challenged or retreated further into a fear/mistrust that already existed - previous events planted the seed for it and the hell the cast went through gave it growth.

Trevor and Sypha are going to have to challenge their goal they’d been following since working together/getting together: they can’t just go headlong adventuring and fixing people’s problems, because things like this can happen. Their new allies and the entire town were slaughtered or trapped somewhere, and the man they’d trusted and been helping this entire time was a serial killer, particularly of children. Alucard is drifting into a state of consciousness not unlike his father before he met Lisa, but potentially in a worse place since he’s witnessed and felt true kindness, but has retreated away from it even so due to the betrayal he’s suffered at an already-fragile time for him. Isaac has to reconsider what he’s going to do once he has his proper army, and even if it’s worth it to get his revenge or to carry out Dracula’s original plans. Saint Germain.. I mean, he’s in psychodelic hell searching for that person and presumably a way out, I assume it’s tragic. Hector’s learned a hard lesson in trusting and is going to have to figure out if his freedom is worth risking pain or death. Likewise I think the characters grow this way. Even if it was a happy ending, or an ending where everyone “wins” some small victory somehow, I think it’d ultimately have been worthless if nobody was fundamentally changed by the end of the season.

Things I didn’t like - The sex scenes. I’ve seen a lot of people like “If you’re gonna put in gratuitous sex then actually include Trevor and Sypha??” and I’m gonna have to disagree with that. While I love the ship and all, I’d like to give the benefit of the doubt and say sex scenes weren’t thrown around randomly or just to flex the rating - they were only tied to actual story, hence why I’m down with the bedroom stuff of the show’s main ship only being alluded to. However, I gotta say that the long broken-up sex scenes mixed with battle/action was not the way to do that. I think I know what they were going for (it definitely drove my anxiety up having those scenes back to back with intense action/violence, I can tell ya that!), but it just wasn’t a good idea. Yes, they were obviously made to be uncomfortable (particularly since I’m pretty sure one of them was dubious consent at best?) but that was reflected well just in a few key frames/actions - it didn’t need to be drawn out and mixed with the action. It made me want to skip through (I didn’t out of fear I’d miss battles, which isn’t really good design) and I’d like to bet parts of the finale are unwatchable for some. For the record, yes you could say “well they got into an adult-rated show, deal with it,” but the fact of the matter is up until now sexual violence/discomfort wasn’t heavy-handed and in-your-face like this. Non-sexual violence was definitely all over the whole series, but it’s still a bit like whiplash considering. Also, the fact people think the scene with Alucard was at all chill. I see it from a story standpoint (though I honestly think their motivations were weak and there’s other ways to betray someone/get their guard down), but I think the people going on about “power bottom” and this and that are forgetting that the absence of a no is not a yes, particularly with someone severely emotionally damaged after spending months alone not only without a support group but without any contact, immediately following the death of his father by his own hands. I’m no expert but I don’t think that’s someone in the proper state of mind to consent to anything sexual, even if there were a couple weeks or whatever of spending time with these new friends. He very well might’ve been on the way to a stress disorder before they turned his world upside-down and frankly I’m wondering how he’s going to be faring come the next season (assuming there is one.) That’s more of a fandom gripe than the show itself I suppose but it’s worth a mention. - The pacing. It’s hard to pinpoint it, but something about it felt off, especially in the first half. The best way I can describe it is when you pump the gas and brakes because your brakes aren’t working great and you’re loosening them up - maybe it was necessary to get things going, but it’s a bit destabilizing/odd for anyone in the car. I think it’s what contributed to that stunted sense I got until things picked up a little more. You can see it more in just how packed with stuff the latter half is, some things which could’ve been planned a bit better through the whole season. - Sumi and Taka. I honestly felt that they wanted to get in a way to have a punch-in-the-gut arc with Alucard (not a bad idea, I am one for tragedy), wanted to kill off some characters who were actually important, and decided to do these both with one stone. I don’t think they were successful on the second part, because these two absolutely contributed to the stunted feeling I had about some of the season. They had a good start in terms of backstory, and the idea of two people working together to fight vampires without having some big legend tied to their name to drive it (e.g. Speaker magicians, Belmont legacy, Alucard’s heritage), as well as a connection to/fleshing out of one of the nameless generals, sounded like a great concept. A great concept, but it was rushed I felt, to the point that their motivations for turning on him were so packed and squished in they just weren’t believable if we’re supposed to believe these two were sane. They had some sort of mental/trust issues due to their backstory - that’s fine, and could contribute some emotional problems. However if their distrust in Alucard had been given more time to fester and grow, more little comments of Alucard’s brushing off their attempts to learn about specific things, and more cues from him that could be misinterpreted by them as him causing trouble and lying (not just them not believing him by itself), it would be more believable that the past and misinterpretations of the present get into their head and poison their thoughts of him. You can plant a seed of doubt but just like any other character bonds, it has to be given time to grow. Alucard’s rapid bonding with them could be attributed to his loneliness, trauma, and need for a support system, but you can’t make that excuse for Sumi and Taka’s motivations going from “Hm.. I wonder what he isn’t telling us” to “We need to emotionally gut him and then kill him” basically overnight. Edit:

I forgot to add a conclusion last night, so I guess the TL;DR is season 3’s a good 7.5/10 for me, -1 for the overall pacing, -1 for missing a bit of the punch from before, and -0.5 because the last few episodes jumped me with a bat and I let it happen.

#i'm probably gonna regret this tomorrow but here are my just-got-gutted-by-that-season thoughts #castlevania #season 3 spoilers #castlevania season 3 #ooc #tw dubcon #tw violence

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his-chxrry · 5 years ago

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Summary:

Sydney is a young fashion designer who is working as an assistant for a stylist and a professional shopper. On any normal given work day, she spends her shift helping her boss by shopping for Beverly Hills richest bachelors or bachelorettes. But, on this particular day, Sydney's boss gets a call to go on a run for someone unheard of. A new client or someone else? It's not until she shows up to drop off the clothes seeing exactly who the person was and why they used an alias, landing her a job with the one and only, Harry Styles. Being an avid 1D fan, can she keep the fangirling to the side and keep her focus solely on the job? Can she fight the will to mix business with pleasure? Find out in "Falling For Style".

CHAPTER 1:

"Can you speed walk? Quickly!"

She can't be serious. Surely she's not taking back to back shopping list orders again.

"We have another order due at 11am!"

No surprise there. That's Alice. She's my boss. One of the most frequent professional shoppers here in the Los Angeles area. We spend most of our time taking orders from old geezers who are perfectly capable of shopping for themselves. But can I really complain when they're the reason I have a job?

"SYDNEY!"

"I'm COMING!"

Yes, that's me: i'm Sydney and this is my life! What I probably should have further explained is that I am Alice's assistant. So, while the orders come in for all of the shopping that we have to do, she prints me off the list, I take the keys and I go about my marry way, shopping for Beverly Hills finest people. As much as I would love to say I hate this job, it does have it's perks.

Sometimes, I get paid huge tips; especially from people like Mr. Bugetti who tips me $100 for every time I bring him a new suit. Or how about Rose? The lovely lady who can't seem to stay away from any lavender dress on the planet. However, she never tips me in money but she has phenomenal banana bread and I get a loaf every time.

Another perk to this job is that if someone doesn't like how they look in a piece of clothing, I get to take it home! Does that necessarily mean that I will get to fit into it? No, but I have friends who might be able to and who doesn't love free clothes? I know I do!

As I approached the counter, I took a deep breath, knowing I was about to be given another run for my money but I was going to make it count because it was my last run before finally going on lunch.

"Hit me." I tell her, leaning over to read over this list.

"So, this one is for someone we've never shopped for before." Alice said as she handed it over.

"Hector Sears?" I asked, raising a brow as I looked at the list. "Particularly white Vans, Calvin Klein's white and yellow pinstripe pants, a white newsboy hat, and a vintage white t-shirt-- I'm sorry. Does this guy know this is a recipe for disaster?"

"Now, Sydney, you know we do not judge our clients. I really need you to make a good impression so that he keeps us around."

I sighed, knowing that I would not be able to keep the judgement out of my face but I did my best to fake a smile.

"As you wish!" I assured her, taking the list and heading right back out of the door I had originally come in.

Thankfully, the stores I was shopping in were back to back and all located at the local strip mall just half a mile up the street from the office. My only fear was: what do we do if they don't have these particular items? On the list, it specifically said not to substitute for anything. So, you already know my anxiety was pretty high. I didn't even know who this guy was and he already sounded like a pill. But, it as time I make the most of it.

Getting out of the car, I made my way right into the Vans store and smiled at the cashier, approaching her so I wouldn't have to do the digging myself.

"Hi! Sorry to bother you, but can you tell me where I can find a size 10 in mens, pure white Vans?"

"Are you here for Hector Sears?" She asked, a light in her eyes.

I frowned. How the hell did she know that?

"Yes? Why?"

Laughter poured from her mouth because she could see how confused I was and I only knew to squint at this reaction.

"Sorry, I can tell you're confused. He called ahead."

"Ah!" I said, nodding and giving a partial smile, not understanding what the hell was so funny but I wasn't going to show that in my face. "Well, if you could just grab those for me? I have to drop them off by 11."

"Of course! Just give me a few minutes! I'll be right out!"

I nodded, taking a deep breath as I wondered if every stop would be like this. It was kind of nice, not having to search for the items myself. It saved time and it would help to get the job done a hell of a lot faster. Maybe this guy wasn't such a pill after all.

"Here you go!" She said, handing me the bag and I quickly gave her the company card to pay for them.

"I hate to ask but are you familiar with this name?" I asked. "It's just, he's a first time client for us; kind of trying to feel him out and see how his attitude is like."

She shook her head. "Not that I know of, but it's possible others have worked with him before."

"Thanks." I said, smiling and taking my card back. Interesting to think that maybe he wasn't that frequent.

You're probably wondering why I asked such a specific question but truth is because most of our clients are well known by the places they shop because they made appearances long before we would do it for them. However, I can't argue that Vans is a popular brand and this person has probably visited at least five different locations so, I'm not sure why I expected much.

Moving on to the next few stores, just as I thought, Mr. Sears had already called ahead, making my job ten times easier than most runs. It was simple: I'd say his name, they'd grab his order from the back, I'd pay and leave. I'm sure Alice will be appreciative of this and maybe I could pitch this as an idea to her to make errands run a little smoother; but knowing her, she won't budge. Now all there was left to do was to drop the clothes off.

The address that was given to me was in a familiar spot but it wasn't in the usual spot of where we normally drop off clothes. On a normal basis, we would drop off clothes to huge mansions the size of a mountain, but this particular street didn't have houses like that. The houses on this street were nice but they were much smaller, and to be quite frank, not anywhere I'd expect someone rich to live. But, who am I to judge? Like Alice said, I need to make a good first impression. So, that's exactly what I am going to do.

After about 15 minutes worth of driving, I finally pulled up to the house and just as I thought, it was nice but quite small! However, it had some pretty cool features and I could definitely see how someone rich could live here. There was a balcony practically the whole way around the house, and I'm almost positive it had a pool. But, now was not the time to scope the place out. I just needed to drop off the clothes so I could leave and go grab my lunch.

Upon approaching the door, I wasn't sure if anyone would actually be home. It was so silent and the only sounds filling the air were the sweet nothings of wind chimes and the ocean breeze. It almost felt like an awkward silence as my heels clicked across the porch, leading to the door way. Grabbing the door handle, I gave the door three knocks and one touch of the doorbell.

"H-Hello?" I called out, waiting to see if anyone was home.

"One minute!" I heard someone say. It seemed a little distant and it almost sounded as though there was a bit of an accent but I wasn't going to think anything of it because this is California: no surprise.

As I heard the door getting unlocked, I took a step back so I wouldn't be right in the person's face as they answered.

"Hi, I'm here for a Hec-" I paused. The person that was coming out of the doorway was by no means a Hector Sears. He stood there, gym shorts, nike shoes, and a tight white t-shirt with brown locks just taking over his head. He looked just like I had always seen him in magazines; but this time, this wasn't a photo op.

"You're....not Hector." I spit out.

"You're right, I'm not." He chuckled. "M'Harry! Lovely to meet you."

Offering his hand, I felt dumb as I glanced at it and then back up to his face before hesitantly offering my hand over and shaking it slowly.

"I'm uh... Sydney. D-Does a Hector live here?" I managed to ask.

"Mm'no. It's just me! I mean, I have a few roommates but none are Hector. I'm Hector."

I nodded. "Wow."

Another chuckle passed his lips. "I'm sorry to have startled you! I just knew that had I used my real name, it could have easily gotten me into quite a bit of trouble, you know?"

"I mean, yeah! You're Harry Styles for Christ's sake." I blurpped out, gasping at how rude that may have sounded. "I'm so sorry. It's just...kind of been a fan of yours for like...10 years almost? And never in my wildest dreams would I ever expect to stumble upon you, let alone, your house to drop off your clothing order."

Harry rocked back on his heels. "Yeah, that's essentially why I used an alias. I don't need people to really know where I'm living and hopefully, it won't get out!" He smirked, a playful brow rising on his forehead.

"Oh, nonononono. We have a very strict policy that all clients information remains confidential." I assured him and then handed him his bags.

"Well, I appreciate it!" He smiled, taking the bags from me and signing off on his receipt. "Um, before you go, are you busy?"

I frowned. Surely Harry Styles isn't asking me if i'm busy, right? There's no way.

"Uh, I, No! I was just about to go on my lunch break, actually!"

Harry Nodded. "Well, if you don't mind, I would like to take you for lunch as a way of thanking you for your services."

No...this is a real ass hoax.

"Oh, you really don't have to--"

"No, I insist!" He smiled, shutting his door behind him and locking it. "I have been stuck in this house since this morning working on music and going through meetings. It's about time I grab myself a bite too. Please, join me."

Alice's rule was to make a good impression. If turning Harry down meant ruining that for us, then that would be a bad idea right?

"O-okay!" I said to him but this would be the ONLY TIME I would agree to this.

Needless to say, I'm 100 percent scared but I'm ready for whatever this lunch, and time, with Harry might bring me.

**Did i really just write my very first chapter to a Harry Styles fanfiction? Yeah, I did and we're not gonna talk about it because I'm stuck in quarantine and need an escape! lol. I hope you all liked it. Please rate, comment, and tell me your thoughts! I need to know so I know your thoughts! Much love to you all!**

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #hs #harry fanfic #fine line #tpwk #did i really just post this?#i guess so #go easy on me folks #hsff

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vfdbaudelairefile13 · 5 years ago

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Chapter Thirty-Seven:

The One With Two False Accusations and One Brutal Confession

Detective Dupin gripped the two orphans’ shoulders as tightly as he could in pure excitement. He continued to snicker as Violet’s fear slowly drained from her being replaced by her anger. She harshly pushed Dupin’s hands off her shoulder and pulled her brother behind her. Klaus stood there confused.

“What?” He asked in disbelief.

“Count Olaf has been murdered,” Dupin repeated smirking at the elder two orphans.

She glared at him. She was at a loss for words. “ You…you...” she hissed.

Klaus matched Violet’s glare. “You won’t get away with this!” he shouted at the villain, who merely laughed at the young boy.

“Oh, Klaus, don’t you know by now I always have a few tricks up my sleeve,” He smirked. “You’re going to love this next part,” he said as he gripped onto the two children’s shoulders again..

“ I advise you to stop saying that,’ she warned pulling Klaus away from Detective Dupin.

“Let’s go…” He instructed giving the two children a push. “There’s a town meeting about my death and we surely wouldn’t want to miss it.”

I’m afraid I have some bad news that you will not like to hear, which is that some people in this world enjoy hearing bad news.

As Olaf forced Violet and Klaus into the middle of the town, they could hear murmurs in the crowd. “I heard Count Olaf was murdered in his jail cell last night,” she could hear Mrs. Morrow gossip.

“That’s bad news,” Mrs. Lesko commented. “I was excited to burn him at the stake.”

Violet shook in anger as she tried to get out of the fake detective’s grip. But he held both children tightly. She used her free hand to wipe tears from her eyes. She may not have known her Uncle Jacques for really long or at all, for that matter. But she knew that he meant a great deal to her father. Her father wasn’t one to discuss personal details from his childhood often but whenever he did, he had wonderfully nice things to say about both his siblings. Even if he hadn’t, Violet knew that the way she felt about Klaus and Sunny was a universal feeling. She only knew her siblings briefly and she knew she’d give her life for both of them without hesitation.

What is bad news to one person might be good news for someone else. Violet felt as though her world was crashing down as she turned back to see Olaf was smiling and his eyes were bright behind his sunglasses. No, it wasn’t a smile but a grin...a smirk...he was proud of the pain he was continuing to cause her. He was happy to know that he took yet another person from her life. Klaus glanced back towards the jailhouse wall where they had left Violet’s invention. They could see that the Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender was walking towards it. Klaus looked towards them confused.

As the two siblings were forced to the front of the crowd. They gasped when they saw Jacques was lying on the ground with his eyes closed and two townspeople were pulling a white sheet over his bloody body. Violet stared at Jacques’ body doing her best to hold back any and all tears that were trying to escape. She refused to show any weakness to this fucker. As she took a final glance towards her uncle’s now lifeless body all she could think about was how her father was able to protect her siblings but she was unable to save his brother, her uncle, she felt as if she had once again failed her father and once that thought hit her, she couldn’t stop the harsh flow of tears that followed.

“Olaf’s been murdered,” they could hear townspeople claim.

“Olaf hasn’t been murdered at all…” Violet replied meekly. She felt her knees wobbling, slowly going weak. Klaus grabbed onto her to support her. “That’s my...my uncle…Jacques.”

And sometimes, what seems like good news...might actually be something full of sadness, misery, and grief. The story of Violet Snicket haunts me the way yet another untimely death haunts Violet in a small, dusty town. It fills me with sadness, misery, and grief. But you have no reason to be as haunted as I am...look away. This is nothing you ought to see.

Hector pushed through the crowd to find the two children he had been caring for. He could see that Violet was pale and she was silently crying. “Let’s go, children. This is nothing you ought to see,” he explained.

Detective Dupin quickly stepped in between Hector and the two children. Pushing Hector back. “Not so fast, daddy-o,” Dupin replied. “It’s just not cool to dismiss suspects from the scene of the crime,” he snapped his fingers to emphasize the word cool.

“Suspects?” Klaus repeated incredulously. “If anyone committed this murder, it was you!”

Both Violet and Klaus glared daggers at the man who stood before them. Violet quickly wiped away a few of her tears.

“It’s extra just not cool,” he replied snapping his fingers again to emphasize the word ‘cool’. “To disagree with Detective Dupin,”

“ Your name isn’t Detective Dupin...it’s…” Violet hissed through gritted teeth.

“Silence! Silence in the crowd!” the First Elder’s booming voice yelled. Causing Violet and Klaus to turn around quickly. The three Elders stood at the steps of Town Hall glancing out at the crowd.

“Gather round! The Council of Elders has called this emergency town meeting!” the second one yelled.

“There have been a lot of emergency town meetings lately. I’m falling behind on my stories,” Mrs. Morrow muttered.

“Ever since those troublesome orphans came into town,” Mr. Lesko replied back.

Violet and Klaus huddled together as a few murmurs were heard within the crowd.

“It’s imperative that we discuss this most mysterious murder!” the third Elder yelled.

“I don’t think it’s imperative. I think it is absolutely necessary,” Esme replied in her Officer Luciana voice as she stood on the edge of Fowl Fountain.

Klaus rolled his eyes, sighing. “‘Imperative’ means ‘absolutely necessary’, Esme.”

Esme glared daggers towards Klaus. “My name is not Esme. It’s Sarah Petunia Alexandra Maryellen…”

“Is that what she said yesterday?” Mrs. Morrow asked skeptically.

“But...as always you can call me Officer Luciana. Now let’s get down to business, Dupin. Do you have any important information?”

“ We have some important information,” Klaus yelled boldly pointing at himself and Violet. “This man is not Detective Dupin. He’s Count Olaf!”

“Those sunglasses may be hiding your eyebrow, and those hideous shoes may be hiding your tattoo, but you can't hide your identity! You’re Count Olaf and you’ve kidnapped our sister and the Quagmires and murdered Jacques!” Violet yelled.

“I’m confused,’ a townsperson explained.

“It’s not cool,” Olaf replied with a snap of his fingers. “To be confused, so let me see if Officer Luciana and I can help…” he stepped onto the edge of the fountain alongside his villainous girlfriend so he can address the entire town better. “I am the famous and extremely handsome Detective Dupin. I am wearing these shoes and sunglasses because they’re cool. “

Violet rolled her eyes as Klaus scoffed in annoyance.

“Now, as I was saying, before the orphans rudely interrupted me. Village of Fowl Devotees! I am here to bring you both protection and style.” she gestured to her disguise. It is my duty to lock up prisoners in the Uptown Jail, and I made sure Jacques was safe in his cell last night,”

Violet’s face beamed with happiness at Esme’s fuck up. Klaus held his breath hoping that the town had caught on. Even Olaf was fighting the urge to facepalm or yell at her. The children could see him take a deep breath in order to calm down.

“Who’s Jacques?” the first Elder asked.

Esme’s face froze. “It’s...my nickname for Count Olaf.” she stuttered finally. Smiling at the crowd.

“Oh,” the town murmured.

Violet and Klaus could not believe people were falling for this bitch’s bullshit. “Now...I have the only key to the jail, so his death is a mystery!” she announced smiling at Violet and Klaus.

The townspeople began to talk amongst themselves and a few of them even gasped.

“I do love a good mystery,” Mrs. Morrow called out.

“Especially when it takes place in a cozy village and stars a detective with a funny voice,” Mr. Lesko commented in agreement.

Detective Dupin began to scat. “You’re right, moldy oldies. But lucky for you cats, I’m a peachy detective with a face for TV and I’ve already cracked this Popsicle case!”

“Oooh!” Mrs. Morrow commented. “This sure is exciting!”

Violet wiped her eyes fiercely as Klaus rolled his eyes. ‘There’s nothing excited about an innocent man being murdered!” she screamed glaring at the two villains.

“We’re as shocked as you are,” Mr. Lesko commented. “But I thought Count Omar was involved in all sorts of crimes? How is he innocent,”

“His name is Count Olaf!” Klaus shouted.

“So you admit that you recognize him?” Officer Luciana asked smiling.

“That man isn’t Count Olaf!” Violet yelled referring to her uncle. “ This dumb fucker is!” she pointed her finger towards Detective Dupin.

“We went through this yesterday, orphans,” an Elder yelled. “That dead man had that bushy eyebrow and a tattoo of an eye on his ankle,”

“The tattoo isn’t of an eye!” Violet yelled in frustration. “It was of the letters V F D!”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” an Elder replied. “Why would Count Omar have the name of this town on his ankle,”

“That’s not the point!” Violet argued. “The point is that that man is the real Olaf!” she shouted pointing once more at Detective Dupin.

The crowd gasped in shock as Detective Dupin shrugged his shoulders towards the crowd.

“And that police officer is Esme Squalor!” Klaus added.

The crowd gasped once more as Esme glanced back at Klaus utterly confused.

“These fuckers kidnapped our sister and the Quagmires and now they’ve murdered my uncle, Jacques Snicket!” Violet cried.

Once more the crowd around the kids gasped. But these accusations did not phase either Olaf or Esme as they continued to play in character.

“These kittens have flipped!” Dupin exclaimed. “I am a groovy man of the law, man. I wouldn’t harm the hair on a baby with piranha teeth,” as he said that he smiled specifically towards Klaus. Both siblings shared a look of pure annoyance towards the villain. “As I said...I’ve already cracked this case,”

“ We’ve cracked this case, too!” Klaus shouted having enough of Olaf’s games.

“Everyone! Please!” Violet pleaded. “This man is the real Count Olaf...he murdered my uncle…”

“Wait? So Count Olaf is your uncle?” one villager asked.

“ No! ” Violet screeched angrily. “Count Olaf is right there and he murdered my uncle, Jacques Snicket!”

The villagers looked towards Violet utterly confused.

Officer Luciana rolled her eyes wanting to get to the point. She beckoned the crowd to hush. “Detective Dupin, you were saying before these orphans interrupted you,”

“Yes, thank you, officer,” Dupin replied. “Now, reconnoiter this, villagers. Miss Snicket and Mister Baudelaire here are pointing their bony little fingers at me because they are, in fact, one hundred percent,” he paused for dramatic effect and to make sure everyone in the crowd was paying attention. “... the murderers. ”

The entire crowd around the children gasped while Violet and Klaus glared daggers towards Olaf.

“ What?!” Violet yelled incredulously.

“As I said before if anyone committed this murder it was you!” Klaus shouted defensively.

“Those children can’t be the murderers,” one Elder commented. “They’re children,”

“Well...actually those aren’t mutually exclusive,” Klaus muttered as Violet smacked his arm.

“Shut up, Klaus,” Violet hissed. “You’re not helping.”

“Sorry…” he replied in a low whisper. “Force of habit,”

“Detective, you must have evidence for this startling and handsome accusation,” Luciana commented smiling.

“Correcto, lady cop. It’s just not cool to accuse people of murder without having evidence,” Dupin explained. He gave each child a nasty smile. “Lucky for you, I’m a great detective and I found some!”

“This is utter bullshit,” Violet protested angrily.

“Show them the evidence,” Luciana said as Dupin snapped his fingers. He pointed to his henchmen who began playing jazz instruments. Dupin began to snap his fingers to the beat.

“Orphans are dragsville, man. They come into your village, sneak into your jail,” he said as he hopped down from the edge of the fountain. He walked over to Violet and Klaus. “They kill and they pillage...with the help of these!” he swiftly reached his hands into Klaus’ inner jacket pocket. Klaus’ face dropped when he realized what Olaf had pulled out.

“Bluebird. Blue sky. Blueberry pie! Uh-uh, blueprints!” Dupin scat as he unfolded the blueprints for the whole town to see. Several villagers gasped, the Elders looked towards Klaus suspiciously. Klaus tried to avoid everyone’s gaze.

“I..I can explain that…” Klaus explained. He glared at Olaf. “This is circumstantial at best!”

“Yeah, man. That’s what the orphans used to find a weak space in the wall, so they could use,” he pointed his disgusting finger towards the uptown jail as the Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender pushed Violet’s invention towards the crowd. Olaf looked to the invention confused. “Um...what is that thing?” he asked breaking character slightly, using his actual voice.

“Shit,” Violet muttered as she caught a glimpse of her invention.

“I think it’s some kind of mechanical device,” his henchperson replied wheeling it for all of the village to see.

The entire village gasped as they looked at Violet suspiciously.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Violet explained to the crowd. “I…”

“Oh, yeah,” Dupin replied smirking. “A device of mechanics so mean, Violet Snicket used that..” he began to scat. “...thing. They punched a hole in the wall of the jail. Crept in on bad cat paws and snuffed out the light of Count Olaf, um, in the night.”

“You fucking lying bastard!” Violet yelled.

“This is circumstantial evidence!” Klaus cried. “This doesn’t prove shit,”

Dupin smirked at Klaus. “Right you are, my little four-eyed kitten,” he hissed. “But...there’s more,”

Violet and Klaus looked at him in utter disbelief. Violet’s heart sank as he pulled out a long black ribbon of out his blazer pocket waving it around for the crowd and the children to see.

“No,” she whimpered realizing that she had made a mistake by giving Isadora that ribbon during their last rescue attempt. She realized now that he must have realized that it was in Isadora’s hair and he must have moved them afterward and set up the net. Not only had him relocating them been her fault...but now...he has physical evidence to accuse her of murder.

“I found this right outside Count Olaf’s jail cell,” he said. “It’s a ribbon, the exact kind of ribbon that Violet Snicket uses to tie up her hair…”

Violet looked ready to murder the real Olaf as he was now using her ribbons against her. The townspeople gasped and Violet turned to see that the citizens of VFD were looking at her with suspicion and fear, which are not pleasant ways to be looked at.

Violet pulled her ribbon out of her hair. “My hair ribbon is right here!” she explained. “That one isn’t mine!” she lied nervously. She glanced around at the suspicious looks the villagers were giving her. She sighed as she walked over and yanked the black ribbon from Olaf’s grasp. She thought of Isadora as she stuffed the ribbon into her pocket for safekeeping.

Dupin cocked his head to the side to indicate to Violet that she’s a terrible liar.

“How can we tell?” an Elder asked. “All hair ribbons look alike,”

“Right you are, moldy oldie.” Dupin said.

“They might look alike but that doesn’t mean it’s mine,” Violet replied bitterly.

“So you’re telling me...that you only own one hair ribbon?” Dupin asked.

“I plead the fifth,” Violet muttered.

“What if I told you, villagers, that Violet Snicket has a plethora of hair ribbons stored in her purple backpack,” Dupin replied smirking towards Violet.

She glared refusing to respond to Dupin. She pulled her backpack off her back, clutching it. Klaus frowned. “Okay...so maybe the ribbon could be hers,” Klaus reasoned doing his absolute best to defend his sister. “But that doesn’t mean she was at the scene of the crime! I was with her the whole night!”

Dupin smirked. “I’m glad to hear you admit that,” he replied as he pulled out a small circle made of glass for the entire village to see. Klaus and Violet looked at one another confused. “And inside Count Olaf’s cell, I found this. This is one of the lenses in Klaus Baudelaire’s glasses,”

“No, no it’s not,” Klaus cried. “My glasses are perfectly intact and are not missing any lenses!” He turned to see that the villagers were now staring at him with the same suspicious and fearful glances. He growled at Dupin as he took off his glasses and showed them to the crowd. “I’ve made sure to take extra special care of my glasses after t his bastard made me fearful of all optometrists!”

Dupin smirked to himself when Klaus said this.

“Just because you have replaced your ribbon and your lenses,” Luciana noted. “Doesn’t mean you’re not murderers,”

“Shut the fuck up, Esme!” Violet hissed.

“This is all very shocking,” an Elder said.

“He’s lying!” Klaus yelled.

“So these pieces of evidence are not yours?” one Elder asked.

“Well...the ribbon and mechanical device are mine,” Violet admitted hoping that telling the truth would give her some benefit of the doubt.

“The blueprints are mine…” Klaus admitted sheepishly following suit. “But we are not murderers!”

“I’m not done showing my evidence yet,” Dupin explained.

“ There’s more!?” Violet cried throwing her fists to her side in disbelief.

“What can I say...I’m a great detective,”

“You’re a great manipulator and liar,” she hissed.

The children watched as the two white-faced women walked over to Dupin and Luciana handed each of them a bag labeled evidence. Violet felt sick to her stomach when she realized that in the bag that Dupin held was a bloody dagger and in Luciana’s hand was a bag holding a bloody crowbar.

“... you bastards!” She shrieked.

“See, the girl is mad that we have found their murder weapons,” Luciana claimed.

“Oh, that’s a fucking stretch!” Klaus cried.

“ You know exactly why I’m mad!” Violet yelled trying to rush towards Esme. Klaus grabbed her arm.

“Chill,” he whispered. “Don’t give them a reason to believe them.”

“Klaus, I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed,” she whispered back. “We’re fucked,” Her voice was one he couldn’t recognize. He turned to her and could see that she wore a frown. Her eyes watering and her shoulders slumped. Klaus feared that she was giving up.

“As you villagers can see,” Dupin said holding out the bag for all of VFD to see. “Within these official evidence bags are the murder weapons.”

“Oh look, he’s finally telling the truth,” Klaus whispered to Violet, trying to get her to laugh. But she merely stared at Olaf. No longer glaring. No longer standing tall. The loss of her uncle was finally hitting her harshly.

The town gasped as they slowly moved away from the children.

“On Count Olaf’s body were several stab wounds as if his attackers had some sort of vendetta against him,” Dupin explained as Luciana held up her bag for the entire village to see. “There are only two people so uncool as to stab someone to death. The murderers who murdered Count Olaf by murder is none urder than Violet Snicket and Klaus Baudelaire!” Dupin explained pointing dramatically at the kids.

“This is utter bullshit, Olaf!” Klaus yelled as Violet continued to stare at the weapons that ended her uncle’s life.

Dupin glared nastily at Klaus. “You are making a big mistake when you call me Olaf,” he said, “and if you continue to call me that, you will see exactly how big of a mistake you are making,” he warned. “So why don’t you behave,”

Klaus closed his eyes and began to slightly shake. Violet glanced at her now scared brother and then at the villain who was smiling happily as he could see he still had some effect on her little brother.

“Fuck off, Olaf!” Violet yelled. “My brother and I didn’t stab anyone to death! You have no evidence to prove that that dagger and crowbar are ours!”

“Well, your mechanical device does have a pickaxe attached to it,” Luciana pointed out.

“Right you are, lady cop,” Dupin replied smirking. “If you had access to a pickaxe who is to say you didn't have access to a crowbar and dagger?”

“Detective Dumbass is lying!” Violet cried as the town began to stare at Klaus and Violet angrily.

Dupin shrugged his shoulders as he handed the two white-faced women the bags holding the murder weapons. “It’s not cool to accuse me of lying,” Dupin said with a snap of his fingers. He stepped closer towards Violet and Klaus. “Instead of dropping accusations on cool and handsome detectives, maybe you orphans should tend to your own accusational woes,” he smirked patting Klaus on the shoulder.

“They should start by giving everyone an alpaca,” Luciana commented.

“Yes,” Dupin replied. “Wait...what?”

“She means ‘alibi’,” Klaus explained rolling his eyes.

“Yes! Alibi! That’s what I meant to say,” Luciana corrected.

“Orphans!” the first Elder yelled. “Where were you last night between the hours of dusk and dawn?”

“We-we were...we were at Hector’s house,” Klaus replied nervously when he realized that everyone's eyes were on him.

“He’ll tell you himself,” Violet explained.

The two children glanced towards Hector with a pleading look in his eyes. He looked at them remorsefully as everyone looked towards the handyman. Even the three Elders. Hector opened his mouth to say something, but no word came. The two children waited for a moment in the tense silence, thinking that surely Hector would overcome his skittishness and anxiety in order to save them. But the handyman went quiet as he nearly passed out on the ground.

“ Please,” Violet cried.

“ Tell them you were with us,” Klaus begged.

Their eyes were wide with hope as sound finally came from the handyman’s mouth. “Well...I...Well… you...you see,” he stuttered. His eyes were rolling to the back of his head.

“Hector, please,” Violet begged.

“Hector, we’re waiting,” the second Elder yelled.

His breathing became heavy. “No...no...not again,” Klaus whimpered.

“Oh, no. Hector.” Violet cried.

“Hector,” Klaus pleaded.

Finally, the handyman took a deep breath. “It’s true! The children were with me. They’re not murderers,”

“See!” Klaus yelled triumphantly.

“Where did these items come from, Hector?” the first Elder asked. “Did you provide these children with illegal materials, in violation of VFD rules?”

Hector’s eyes widened.

“No, Hector didn’t do anything!” Violet yelled.

“Trying to pull an innocent cat into your bad vibes?” Dupin asked. “That’s low, man, real low,”

“You would know,” Klaus hissed.

The villagers began to murmur amongst themselves, looking pointedly at the two half-siblings.

Klaus’ eyes widened when he realized he may have found a way to ruin Olaf’s newest scheme once and for all. “What’s our motive?” he asked.

Dupin, Luciana, and Violet looked to him instantly. Dupin looked at him excitedly as if he had asked the best question. Luciana looked at him with a belittling expression while Violet looked at him like he was crazy.

“ What? ” Violet whispered incredulously. “What the fuck do you mean what’s our motive?”

“Why would we kill Count Olaf?” Klaus asked Dupin. Smirking towards the fake detective smiling as though he had played his trump card.

“Klaus...that’s the wrong question!” Violet hissed at her brother.

Klaus was so consumed by anger that he didn’t realize he just handed Olaf his and Violet’s heads on a silver platter. For even, I, the narrator could tell you several reasons why Violet Snicket and Klaus Baudelaire would murder Count Olaf. I can bet that even you, the dedicated reader, must want this fucker dead especially by now and I hate to inform you in the rare chance that you don't want to kill him just yet your opinion will soon change. But either way, naive Klaus Baudelaire asked the worst possible question.

Detective Dupin offered his signature smirk at the two older orphans. “ I am so glad you asked my little four-eyed kitten,” he said to Klaus in such a way that sent waves of chills down the young man’s back.

He walked carefully and menacingly towards the two children as if slowly trying to decide on who to prey upon. He looked first to Klaus smirking but then his gaze slowly turned to Violet, who was glaring at him with a face full of hatred. He gave her a toothy grin as he had decided to have a little bit of fun with her.

He leaned in every so closely to Violet causing Klaus to grab her arm, his way of letting Olaf know that he wasn’t going to be able to take Violet from him. He chuckled when he saw this. “Well,” he began nonchalantly, leaning in extremely close to Violet. “Not only did he kill your uncle,” he whispered cruelly for only Violet and Klaus to hear. He grabbed tightly onto Violet’s other arm, pulling her closer to him so that her ear was directly in front of his putrid mouth. He gave one less chuckle as his smirk widened. Violet turned to him showing her face which in this brief moment looked terrified and confused. “ but he also...murdered your father.” he hissed into the fourteen-year-old’s ear sending paralyzing chills down her spine as he had just confirmed her darkest theory about her father’s death. He released his grip on her arm.

The second the words left Olaf’s mouth, Klaus gasped and turned to face Olaf, he was able to see the proud grin that was plastered and glued to the villain’s face. But Violet, on the other hand, stood their motionless as if she was having trouble registering what Olaf had just said to her in his most braggiest tone yet.

Olaf frowned, not getting the reaction that he wanted. He looked at Klaus and opened his mouth to say something that he hoped would rally the boy up seeing that the girl wasn’t responding to him at all. But as he opened his mouth to speak a loud, harsh, extremely feral shriek was heard.

“ I fucking knew it!” Violet screeched before pulling harshly away from Klaus’ grip, causing her younger brother to fall flat on his ass. Before anyone had a chance to react, Violet had jumped on to Detective Dupin and proceeded to throw punches as she began to ugly cry. “I am going to kill you, you mother fucking piece of shit! I’ll set your worthless ass on fire and show you how it feels!” she yelled as she continued to throw punch after punch allowing the intoxicating mix of her unbridled hatred, her blind rage, and her adrenaline rush gift her strength that even she didn’t know she had. All the while crying so hard that she couldn’t breathe and her face was turning bright red.

Klaus looked awkwardly at the crowd, who were murmuring to themselves about how the children must be murderers if the orphan girl was this unstable. But, he didn’t stop Violet, he couldn’t help but smile watching his fourteen-year-old sister kick Count Olaf’s ass. Violet continued to throw punches at Olaf causing the man to eventually start asking his girlfriend for help, unable to retaliate because he was too focused either trying to keep his disguise intact or guarding his face. Violet eventually stopped trying to punch him going right for his throat, prepared to simply murder him. Her mindset holding stubbornly into the idea of if she’s going to be sent to jail for a murder, she may as well actually commit one. As she was trying to reach for his throat to avenge her father and end this sick, twisted bastard once and for all, she was screaming and yelling threats and profanity as she cried.

Officer Luciana, who until now, was paralyzed by Violet’s lightning speed reaction noticed that Olaf was not gaining the upper hand against the young girl so she decided to intervene. She grabbed Violet harshly by the arm, pressing her long fingernails into the young girl’s skin causing her to yelp in pain and stop her brutal physical assault of the fake detective. Esme yanked Violet's arm, pulling her off the wicked count. Esme tossed her to the ground roughly causing the arm that Violet landed on to scrape on the dirt road of the village.

Klaus growled towards Esme as Violet rubbed her arm, her scrapes slightly bleeding but not as bad as Olaf’s nose and mouth. “ Don’t touch my sister, you fucking bitch!” Klaus yelled at Esme running to Violet’s aide. Both children watched as Detective Dupin stood up holding his bleeding nose and mouth. To the children’s dismay not only had Violet not succeeded in killing him but his disguise was perfectly intact except for the few splatters of blood that were now on his yellow shirt and purple blazer.

“That is not your sister,” Esme remarked in her Officer Luciana voice. “That is your highly unstable accomplice,” Esme smirked towards the two siblings. “The feral little kidnapped baby is your sister.”

“Violet is my sister, too, you dumb bitch!” Klaus yelled defensively pulling Violet to her feet. Violet shifted her backpack on her back slightly trying to see the damage to her arm.

“No, she’s not,” Esme replied bitterly, rolling her eyes. “All she was, is, and forever will be is your mother’s unwanted mistake . That’s why she was given to Lemony,” she explained in a cruel whisper that sent waves of sadness into Violet’s core. She began to laugh amongst herself when she realized just how much of an impact her words had on the young orphan. Violet fell to her butt crying, grasping her locket in the palms of her hands but not daring to open it.

Klaus took one look to his sister, who was bawling her eyes out. He could tell that she was trying to control her tears flow that she didn’t want to appear weak in front of Olaf or Esme. He could see that the rollercoaster of emotions that these two adults had sent her on was getting the best of her. Klaus turned to gaze at Olaf and Esme who were sharing a snarky smile as Esme pointed a cruel finger at the crying Violet, whispering something into Olaf’s ear. Klaus glared and rushed up to Esme, getting into the vicious woman’s face as Violet’s head shot up realizing that Klaus was putting himself in danger. “Say that again,” he hissed in the villainess’ face. “ I fucking dare you!”

Klaus didn’t care that he could hear more of the town’s murmurs calling both siblings extremely violent, highly unpredictable, and severely unstable. If he and Violet were any of these things it was because of the consistent abuse they received from Count Olaf and now, Esme Squalor. And the neglect they receive from any adult who was too incompetent to truly be effectual and help them. Because even as all of this was going down, Hector may have been able to speak up for them briefly but Klaus realized that he wasn’t going to push through the crowd to assist them. None of the villagers were.

Luciana laughed, pushing Klaus’ face away from hers. “I’m sorry that you can’t handle the fact that your precious mommy dearest was a fucking whore ,” she hissed tauntingly watching her words affect both Klaus and Violet.

She was too busy laughing at her insult to Beatrice that she didn’t notice Klaus’ face go from shock to sadness to pure unhinged anger in a matter of only a few seconds as he pounded his fist into Esme’s stomach knocking the breath out of her causing her to stumble backward. Detective Dupin angrily walked up to Klaus, yanking his arms behind his back roughly causing Klaus to yelp in pain. The more Klaus began to struggle, the more Olaf bent his arms back. Violet glanced up at Olaf grabbing at her brother.

She stood up quickly but didn’t move forward. “Hey! Let him go!”

“As you can see villagers,” Olaf explained addressing the crowd as he held a firm grip on Klaus’ arms, as Klaus continued to whine and yelp in pain pretending as though Violet hadn’t even spoken. “These children have shown that they both have vicious anger issues and homicidal tendencies. This , the fact that they had every motive in the book, and all of the undeniable evidence shows that..,”

“They’re...ow...circumstantial at best,” Klaus interjected.

“They are obviously the ones who murdered Count Olaf,” Dupin explained. “I mean this brat even punched an innocent woman. That’s low, real low!”

“No!” Violet cried defensively. “We’re not murderers!”

“That stupid bitch is far from innocent!” Klaus yelled.

“We’ve heard enough!” the first Elder shouted. “The evidence is crystal clear!”

“We’ve adopted murderers!” the second Elder cried in disbelief.

“The Village of Fowl Devotees can no longer serve as guardians to such terrible orphans!” the third Elder yelled angrily.

“We can send a message to Mr. Poe right away and the banker can have them removed in a few days.” one villager suggested

“Now that the trial is over!” Luciana yelled taking a step towards Violet. “I say we burn them at the stake!”

“Officer Luciana is right! A few days is too long to wait!” Mrs. Morrow yelled and several citizens cheered in agreement. Violet and Klaus looked at one another desperately. “These children need to be taken care of as quickly as possible!”

“W-wait a min-minute,” Hector called out breathlessly. As if ready to faint. “We-we-we’re talking about children!”

“I won’t wait a minute! We’re talking about murderers!” Mr. Lesko said. “I say we burn them...right now!” To Violet and Klaus’ horror, the crowd around them cheered.

“But we didn’t murder anyone!” Violet cried as Klaus began to struggle harder in Olaf’s grip. “This evidence is circumstantial at best!”

“It’s enough evidence for us!” a townsperson cried out in response. “Lesko is right! We already have the torches...let’s burn these brats!” the crowd cheered once more all turning to the Elders for guidance. All three Elders looked to one another deciding on the best course of action to take care of Miss Snicket and Mister Baudelaire. All the while, Klaus was still struggling to get out of Olaf’s grip when he noticed that Esme was walking slowly towards Violet.

“Let...me...go!” he cried yelping when Olaf pulled on his arms. “Leave Violet alone!”

Olaf pulled Klaus back towards him, gripping the boy’s chin firmly. He leaned in closer to Klaus’ ear. “ If I were you I’d stop struggling and behave...if you know what’s good for your baby sister,” He hissed sending chills down Klaus’ back.

As he began to shake in Olaf’s grasp, his fear replacing his anger and will to fight. He whimpered, “ Please. Don’t hurt Sunny.”

“That’s all up to you at this point,” Olaf replied back in a vicious snarl.

“Hold on a moment!” an Elder finally replied. “We can’t simply burn people at the stake whenever we want. We are civilized people!”

“How about after supper!” the second Elder suggested as the entire crowd began to cheer.

“So it’s settled then! We will burn these two murderers tonight after supper!” the third Elder explained. The crowd once again cheered.

“ NO!” Violet protested desperately. “ Please, someone listen to us!”

Detective Dupin released his grip on Klaus’ chin but kept his grip on the boy’s arms. Klaus struggled less due to fear of retaliation against his baby sister. “I’ll keep these bloodthirsties on ice at the uptown jail,” he explained.

“We’re not going anywhere with you!” Violet hissed. “Now let him go!” she screamed attempting to rush at Olaf for a second time that early morning.

“Resisting arrest, are you?” Dupin asked Violet with a smirk. “Oh Chiefie,” he called out as Esme grabbed Violet’s arm tightly.

“Now, we can do this the quiet way or it can get very, very noisy ,” she whispered to Violet swinging her baton in her free hand. “ It’s your choice, Snicket. ” Violet glared at Esme as the wicked woman pinned her arms behind her back which was a bit of a challenge seeing that Violet’s backpack got in the way. But Esme didn’t care, she knew this would only cause Violet more pain. The young girl tried her best to struggle in the woman’s grip.

“ Please! ” Violet cried out trying to pull away from Esme. “ We’re innocent! Hector, please!”

“Hector! Help us!” Klaus cried.

But Hector didn’t reply. He didn’t stand up for the kids any further. Leaving the kids with a bitter feeling towards him. Violet and Klaus looked at one another both seemingly terrified for what was to happen next.

Detective Dupin smirked as he addressed the crowd. “I’ll see you all at the burning!”

And for the final time, the crowd cheered and applauded Detective Dupin and Officer Luciana, who in their eyes had captured two vicious murderers instead of physically abusing to young innocent children.

“ Please!” Violet cried as the crowd began to disperse going their separate ways to go about their day. Many of them murmuring how excited they were to burn the two half-siblings after dinner. “ Someone please listen to me! The asswipe holding my brother is Count Olaf! This vain bitch holding me is Esme Squalor! They kidnapped our friends, the Quagmires and our baby sister, Sunny! And now they’ve murdered my uncle, Jacques Snicket and are framing us for a murder we did not commit!’ she yelled trying to get someone to believe her as Olaf and Esme began to harshly drag the children to a secluded area near the jailhouse.

As the town went about their day, Hector stood near the Fowl Fountain frowning. He felt truly sorry for the two children who he was supposed to be taking care of. He put his hand in his overall’s pocket and twirled the third couplet that he had found under Nevermore Tree this morning when he was doing some of his household chores. The children had left earlier than him and he hadn’t been able to tell them about it. But with all the commotion that had just followed, the crows that were peacefully perched upon the fountain had decided that Violet’s yells and the crowd's cheers were too loud for them that they relocated to the tops of the buildings surrounding the town square where the fountain was located. As Hector glanced down at the ground, he noticed a small white scroll similar to the one in his pocket. He picked up the fourth couplet glancing around to try to determine where it had come from. He put them in separate pockets so as to not mistake the order that he had received them. He planned on finding a way to give them to the two children that he had just let down.

______________________________________________________________

Sunny Baudelaire could hear the commotion inside the fountain as she desperately tried to rip off the muzzle that was around her mouth. Duncan and Isadora Quagmire were trying their best to create some kind of loud ruckus that could break through the sound of the rushing water. But their efforts were entirely fruitless. Their knuckles were turning red, raw, and bloody from punching the inside of the fountain as hard as they could, with each hit getting less and less hard. Even though, they could argue that the first few hits weren’t truly hard because the two older orphans barely had any strength or energy from being in Olaf’s ‘care’. Sunny was bawling so hard under the muzzle, she even tried to hit the inside of the fountain a few times. But each hit hurt her tiny toddler hands.

Duncan and Isadora turned to one another, both putting a comforting hand on Sunny’s head.

“I think I figured out what he meant by ‘hope you enjoy the show’,” Duncan muttered.

“Ya think,” Isadora replied. “That’s why he put the muzzle back on Sunny. Her loud toddler screeches would have echoed through this fucking fountain and the town might have been able to hear us.”

“He knew our voices were too weak,”

“We just have to hope Violet can break them out of jail,”

“But why would he burn them?” Duncan asked.

“He might not be planning to burn both of them...remember he only needs Violet...since he has Sunny,” Isadora said as Sunny began to wail harder. She frantically punched the inside of the fountain. The muzzle muffling her cries.

“Isa...wouldn’t the town realize Violet’s gone if he only burns Klaus…?” Duncan asked frightfully.

“He’ll probably…” she began, before her eyes widened with absolute fear. “Oh no,”

“What…?” her brother asked as Sunny continued to kick and punch the fountain walls knowing full well that her efforts were fruitless but she didn’t care. She was determined to save her siblings.

“He’s going to use one of us as a stand-in for Violet,” Isadora explained in a harsh whisper.

“Oh no,” Duncan whimpered. “You’re right. He only needs one of us,”

“Duncan…”

“Yeah, Isa…”

“We need to get the fuck out of here,”

“Violet’s going to break them out of jail ...and save us….” Isadora said although Duncan and Sunny could hear the doubt that was in her voice. “If anyone can do it...it’s Violet,”

____________________________________________________________

Both children winced in pain as the two villains dragged them. Klaus’ heart was pounding in his chest as Violet was cussing out Olaf and Esme as they walked.

When they were finally out of everyone’s sight, Olaf threw Klaus against a wall grabbing him by the neck. “If you ever hit my girlfriend…” Olaf began as Esme held tightly to Violet.

Violet struggled in the woman’s grip desperately wanting to help her brother.

“Darling, I can defend myself,” Esme commented grinning at Klaus. “Here...hold the ugly little girl,” she says reluctantly handing Violet to Olaf.

“Gladly,” Olaf muttered under his breath as he held on to Violet’s wrists. “Don’t have to ask me twice.”

“Don’t touch my fucking sister!” Klaus yelled trying to move from the wall but Esme pushed him back against it. Before he could move, she kneed him harshly in the groin and he fell to the ground yelping in pain. She then gave him a good kick in the stomach for good measure.

“ Stop!” Violet pleaded to Esme.

“This...is police brutality,” Klaus whined using his arms to shield his stomach as he groaned in pain.

“Oh, honey. You’re way too privileged to be claiming police brutality,” Esme commented laughing as she harshly pulled Klaus back up onto his feet.

“Well, then it’s child abuse!” Violet yelled angrily.

Olaf gave Violet a cruel laugh, all the while smirking at Klaus. “Oh...Klaus knows exactly what child abuse feels like...don’t you, Klaus?” the vicious man asked the young boy.

“Fuck off!” he cried as he began to shake, crossing his arms desperately over his chest, backing himself further towards the wall.

“Esme, do you see anything sharp around here?” Olaf asked menacingly looking around. “Maybe a broken umbrella…”

Esme looked towards her boyfriend confused. “No...why?” Even Violet looked to Olaf confused. The only person who understood Olaf was Klaus, who was shaking harder and retreating himself against the wall.

“Because it seems like Klaus here needs another lesson on how to behave,” Olaf hissed. The villain slowly smirked. “Actually...better yet, we’ll just punish little Sunny for her brother’s disobedience.”

“Oooh! Or his little boyfriend!” Esme suggested still not sure what was going on but never passed an opportunity to be a cruel bitch.

“Don’t you dare touch them!” Klaus hissed while shaking.

Olaf laughed cruelly as he looked down at Violet. He grinned towards her as he let go of her wrists but gripped her backpack. “Let go of my backpack!” she yelled struggling to get out of the man’s grip. Olaf growled as he began to roughly pull the backpack off of Violet’s back. She struggled her hardest to keep it on. The few items in her pockets shifting every which way. “ No! Stop! This isn’t yours!” she pleaded. “ My father gave me this backpack!”

“Of course, he did,” Olaf replied rolling his eyes. Finally, he successfully extracted the backpack from Violet.

“Give it back!” she whined.

“See, I can’t have you using your odd collection of knick-knacks to escape my clutches this time ,” he hissed throwing the backpack to the ground and grabbing onto Violet’s wrists again. Violet’s eyes widened and slowly formed a glare when she realized that Olaf must have figured out how she and Klaus got out of the elevator shaft. He sighed angrily, turning her around to face him and gripping her chin in spider-like hand. She shuddered under his touch. “It’s a real shame that that fire didn’t kill you as well. You’ve become more meddlesome than your father,”

“You motherfucker…” she began before he gripped her chin harder.

“Now that is no way to talk to your captor,” Olaf hissed smiling down at the terrified young girl. “But...even the most stubborn of puppies can be trained…” he snarled. “Once I figure out how much your worth maybe I’ll keep the baby around a little while longer. Use her as leverage to get you to be complacent seeing that you think she’s your baby sister.”

Violet merely glared at Olaf, frozen in fear as she was the day she had met him both at the movie theaters and at Prufrock. Violet could sense the actual danger that she was in. She looked towards her brother, who was shaking and slowly curling up into a tiny ball. Esme had focused more on her backpack then Klaus because Klaus wasn’t in the state of mind to fight back.

Violet could hear Esme unzipping her backpack, she tried to turn towards the woman but Olaf kept his grip on her chin. “That's private property you fucking bitch!”

“As chief of police, I have every right to inspect your belongings,” Esme said smiling as she unzipped the backpack glancing at the invention that sat at the top. Her smile slowly turned into a grin as she glanced towards Olaf. “ooooh, darling, this might excite you,” she commented. Olaf shifted his glance from Violet to Esme looking at her with a confused expression on his face.

“What are you talking…” he began as he watched Esme pull out Violet’s makeshift grappling hook. On one hand, he was confused as to how these two children had had the same idea because it looked slightly similar to the one that Klaus had fashioned in hopes of saving Sunny from his tower room so many months ago. As Olaf’s eyes began to shine brighter, Klaus turned to take notice of what Esme was referring to and the moment he did his eyes widened entirely as he backed himself towards the wall.

Olaf shifted his hand from Violet’s chin to her neck as he dragged her over to where Esme was. He pushed Violet into his girlfriend’s grasp as he took the grappling hook from Esme. He gave the cruelest smirk towards Violet. “ Maybe you Snickets are useful after all,” he hissed turning from Violet to Klaus.

Klaus falls to the ground using his arms to block his chest pleading with Olaf. “I’ll behave. I’ll behave. I’ll behave.” Klaus responded automatically as he shook. He closed his eyes, his breathing becoming heavy. “ Please. Don’t.”

Just like Dr. Georgina Orwell had back during Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire’s dismal and brutal stay in Paltryville, Esme looked at Olaf confused. “What did you do to him?” she asked in a tone that was more curious than caring about the welfare of a preteen boy.

“Oh, you know, punished him for misbehaving. His complete and utter disrespect towards me,” Olaf replied smirking. He took a step closer to Klaus. “Hey, Esme! Would you like a visual demonstration?” he asked in a tone that sent chills down everyone’s back including Esme’s.

Esme did her best to clap in excitement with Violet in her grip. “Oh boy, would I! I’d love to watch you torture Beatrice’s darling little baby boy! As long as you don’t kill him,”

He took yet another step closer to Klaus who began sobbing and pleading. “Oh, you’d be surprised what you can live through,” he commented cruelly smiling at the pleading boy.

“ Please...I’m sorry. I’ll behave. I’m sorry.” Klaus cried.

“Don’t fucking touch him!” Violet yelled struggling in Esme’s grip.

“Too late for that, my sweet. Isn’t that right, Klaus?”

Violet watched Olaf take another step towards her brother. She struggled as hard as she could in Esme’s grip. Stomping on the bitch’s feet. Jerking her arms this way and that, even if it caused her some harm, she didn’t care. She bit her lip and continued to struggle. She didn’t know what Olaf did to her brother, although she had a few theories regarding that but she’ll be damned if she allowed Olaf to harm him in front of her using one of her inventions. Finally, Violet twisted herself the farthest she could ignoring the pain that shot up in her arm and kneed Esme where the sun don’t shine. Esme let go of Violet out of instinct as Violet runs towards Olaf trying to yank the grappling hook out of his grasp. She pulled it hard enough to cause him to slightly lose balance as she positioned herself in front of him to kick him in his groin as hard as she could.

“ You little fucking bitch!” He yelled as he heaved over in pain. Violet stood defiantly in front of her brother acting as a human shield for the paralyzed and traumatized Klaus. She quickly reeled in her grappling hook and shoved it into her backpack, stubbornly placing her backpack back in its rightful place. During this time, Olaf grabbed her by the shoulders glaring at her with vicious eyes. “ I will make you pay for that! ” he hissed.

“If you want to hurt Klaus you’ll have to go through me,” she hissed back trying her best to sound intimidating but Olaf could sense the fear in her eyes. It wasn’t as much as Klaus but it was there. She couldn’t hide it.

“Honestly, darling. She is too troublesome. I say we let her and the baby burn and keep the bookworm. He’s truly the most fun,” she commented as she hoisted the shaking boy up to his feet.

He shuddered under her touch. “ Please don’t ...don’t let him…” He pleaded with Esme looking up at her, trying to find the humanity in her eyes since he knew damn well that there was none whatsoever within Olaf’s. He had learned that during his stay with Olaf. “ I’ll...I’ll behave…I promise.”

Violet’s heart broke seeing her brother like this.

“See, darling! He even said he’ll behave! This one is already trained.”

Olaf rolled his eyes. “We can train this one,” he argued. “Everyone has a weakness...we’ll just have to find hers,” he tightened his grip on Violet’s wrists. “Besides this one might be able to give us two fortunes.”

Esme huffed in annoyance. “But Beatrice didn’t care for that one,”

“You stupid bitch,” Violet spat.

“She cared about this one…” she noted. Her tone causing Klaus to shudder and Violet to feel sick to her stomach. Esme’s tone reminded her of Olaf’s tone when he spoke about her or Isadora.

Olaf rolled his eyes as he sighed. “We will discuss that later,” he told her. “Let’s put them in the cell. We can have our fun with them later where there’s surely going to be no witnesses,” he hissed.

Violet continued to struggle in Olaf’s grip as Esme dragged along a shaking, sobbing, panic attack having Klaus. The two villains dragged the two innocent children through the door of the uptown jail. The children stumbled into a dim, grim hallway, listening to the echoed laughter of their captors.

“I’m putting you in the Deluxe Cell,” he said to them. “It’s the dirtiest one and it comes with a noose.” Violet glared at him.

“You sick bastard,”

The two villains continued to march them towards the Deluxe Cell of the jail.

“You’ll be the one in jail before long, Olaf,” Violet hissed hoping she sounded much more confident than she felt. “You’ll never get away with this.”

“My name is Detective Dupin,” Olaf replied. “And my only concern is bringing you two criminals to justice,”

Once they reached the Deluxe Cell, Esme pulled the cell door open, pushing Klaus roughly into the jail. Olaf smirked as he released his grip on Violet’s wrists but once again gripped her backpack. Before she could protest, Esme helped Olaf take her backpack off her back. Esme held on to the fourteen-year old’s backpack as Olaf harshly shoved her into the jail cell after her brother. Violet tripped on her own two feet, the two villains laughed cruelly at Violet as Klaus glared at them and rushed towards them just as Esme slammed the door shut in his face. He reached out to grab the two villains as Olaf took the backpack from Esme placing in on his back.

“Can’t have little Miss Snicket using her knick-knacks to save herself,” he teased as they both waved menacingly at the two children. as they walked away cackling as loud as they could.

Violet and Klaus looked at one another in horror and disbelief.

“We’re fucked,” Klaus cried shaking at the jail door.

Violet didn’t turn to him, she merely nodded her head. “I hate to say it...but…” she gulped. “I think he’s finally won.”

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notsosmallbean · 5 years ago

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Okay, if my calculations are correct, I should be able to finish the season before daybreak! Just, fyi, you guys are gonna have to deal with my tired deliriousness. Enjoy!

Mirror, Mirror

Hmmm, I wonder what’s gonna happen in this episode (and totally not just because I saw that one gif)......

Aww, that drawing is so cute!

God, that’s one squeaky pen-

Eugene and Cassie are such children and I love it.

Pfft, she’s drawing everyone being pissy at each other-

“So let’s just have some fun with it- LANCE IF YOU DON’T STOP WHISTLING I WILL THROTTLE YOU”

Yo, guys - don’t go into that house. It is way too Wonderland-y to be safe after that whole bird ordeal.

Smexy French Man™️

Oh yeah, he’s susp...

He is jokingly calling her the genius of the group, but, to be fair, she kinda is... Like, their group isn’t real heavy on the brains in comparison to their skills as fighters.

Thank god she said his name because I did not understand it when he said it.

“I never use one word where two will do” is the absolute embodiment of the french language

Yeah, forget what I said about Raps being the brains of the group if she can’t see that this is a bad idea-

Uh oh, mirror zombie

So it’s another personality switch episode then, but this time with mirror zombies taking over

What the hell?!

Pfft, I love how the tipping point showing that they are imposters is just shorty acting like a normal person

A bit extra, Raps-

pfft, “UNCLE MONTYYY”

NotLance giving commentary is golden

FSJGKGN THE GUARDS’ MIDDLE NAMES ARE JUST “THE”

Yeah that’s not Cass-

WHAT DID I SAY?

OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT HE CALLED HIM A CHAMELEON

Okay yeah, NotEugene was pretty good-

Yeah no, NotEugene is right. I’m not at all surprised.

Sassy Cassie~

“Fitzherjerk”

Okay yeah YOU GUYS share the same mind, but clearly the real people inside the mirror don’t

Yeah, I tracked the real Raps, and she is totally still outside the mirror

Oh hey yeah, the real people have NotRaps

Oh my god NotRaps sucks at being Rapunzel-

Yeah dude, show us

I was waiting for her to get even scarier, then I remembered this is a kids’ show

I bet the dude that lured them in is also an imposter

HAHAHdasjhdfak EUGENEEEE

OHOHOHOHO~

This is so weird...

Yo what if Pascal is a fake haha

So this inn will be the backdrop of the next few episodes, okay

AN AXE?!?! Oh, so the dude lured them in...

Yo, I commented that they couldn’t make NotRapunzel even scarier because this was a kids’ show, but this episode was lowkey kinda terrifying anyway haha. It was fun, but not super notable. I’d still take it over other episodes any day.

You’re Kidding Me

Well, seeing as this is a magical universe and knowing how the tangled writers like to name episodes, I’m gonna guess this is an age regression episode starring one of the members of the Tangled Crew as a babysitter!

OHHHH ‘PREVIOUSLY’!!!

haha, he goes invisible when he sleeps

Coming from anybody else but Shorty, that comment confusing a seashell with a comfier inn would be a cutting remark and a savage burn.

Aw damn, the door...

What-

DOGGIES!

I like Cassie refers to the rest of them as “The Adults”

Awww, Raps is so cute~

Haha, they’ve drawn in Cass

Oh no-

Lance is an egg

I don’t know why, but the sight of a baby with a beard is really unnerving

Mommy Raps!

Heheh, this is so pure and funny-

DUCKY!!!

Poor Pascal lol

Why is Shorty younger than Lance and Cass?

Oh wow, he just responded to me-

The older you are the younger it makes you? What happens if you were to use it on Vex, Varian, Red, or Angry? Would they age up since they’re already “kids”?

s t o p z a t

They literally act no differently than normal-

Yeah but... Rapunzel is still talking down to them? She’s just doing so in a nicer way. The key is to treat them as equals while still keeping a flexible hold on them in terms of demands.

Just answer the dang questions, Fitzherbert.

DUCKYDUCKYDUCKYDUCKYDUCKY!!!

Fuque offe, Matthews.

Hehe, doggies~

PUPPIES!!!!!!!!!!!

Awwww~

Oh so this dude works for Hector. Dope!

This was such a fun episode! It made me smile because kiddos and puppers and duckies. Also, Raps and Eugene putting up with the kids’ shit was really pure and fun. Just like: “why are you just sitting there” “the floor is acid” Seeing as this was a character episode, I liked it a lot. 9/10 - could use more Duckies uwu

#rapunzel's tangled adventure #tangled the series #rta #tts #humor #commentary #thoughts

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fantasyandromancelover · 6 years ago

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The Tale of Tales Chapter 5

Minerva seemed to be a very good motherly figure to Juvia and a very devoted wife to Hector. She cared for her people and appeared to be a great queen. However sometimes Minerva would disappear into a secret room where no one was allowed to enter except her. When she came out she was always in a very good mood. One evening little Juvia was feeling extra curious so she decided to spy on her stepmother through the key hole of the door to her secret room.

Inside the room there were mirrors hanging everywhere on the wall and Minerva was dancing around in the middle of the room, gazing at her reflection in each mirror. She then approached one mirror in particular that looked older than all the others. In fact it looked as old as time itself and Juvia didn't know why but she had a bad feeling about that mirror.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall." Minerva spoke. "Who is the fairest of them all?"

And much to Juvia's shock the mirror replied.

"Thou, Queen art the fairest in all the land."

Minerva then smiled and laughed like a happy child. Juvia didn't know her stepmother was so vain. She remembered how her nursemaid had always told her that while it was important to look your best you must never be vain. Still that seemed to be the only flaw Minerva had so Juvia ignored it but she would soon discover that she had many other flaws. It all started when King Hector began getting called to do business in other kingdoms.

"Must you leave again?" Juvia asked Hector as he prepared his horse.

"I'm sorry Juvia, you know I hate leaving you and I would gladly stay but as a king I must do what is best for my people. A true ruler always puts their kingdom and their people before themselves. Never forget that Juvia because one day you will be queen."

"Yes Father. But every time you leave I am so very lonely."

"Minerva will look after and play with you. Won't you my dear?"

"Of course." Minerva smiling. "You needn't worry about us, we'll be fine."

After giving Minerva a kiss and Juvia a hug goodbye, King Hector rode away on his horse.

"I will miss him so." Juvia sighed.

"He'll be back in just a few short months. You'll see." Minerva assured her. "Now why don't you go play in the garden? The roses are in bloom."

"Really? Oh wonderful!"

Juvia excitedly ran downstairs and out the door leading to the royal gardens. From her window, Minerva watched her smell the pink roses, pick apples from the trees, feed the birds, and chase butterflies. Also watching her were some of the castle maids.

"What a pretty child." One of them said.

"And she'll be even more beautiful by the time she's ready to wed." Another said.

"Only seven years old and she already has Queen Dianne's beauty and sweetness."

"King Hector must be so proud."

"Do you suppose that someday she could be more beautiful than the queen?"

"Hush! You musn't say such things! You know how sensitive the queen is about her appearance."

But it was too late. Minerva had already heard them and it wasn't long before the fear that one day the child's beauty would surpass her own was sown into her heart. Minerva became cold and haughty around Juvia. If she ever spoke to her she would snap at her in a voice full of hatred much to Juvia's confusion. Of course whenever King Hector was in the castle she behaved as sweet and motherly as she did before but Hector was always away on royal business so most of the time Juvia was at Minerva's mercy.

"Have I done something wrong Stepmother?" Juvia asked her one day. "Why are you always so angry with me?"

"Juvia it has come to my attention that you're a rather spoiled child! And I think it's time that you learned to be humble. From now on there will be no more playing or going outside! You shall in remain in the palace always and focus on your lessons! And furthermore you won't be getting anymore special gifts like new gowns or jewelry." Her eyes went to Juvia's locket and she snatched it right off her neck. "This is too nice to be worn by a spoiled little brat!"

"Oh please give it back!" Juvia begged. "It was my mother's."

"Well I'm your mother now so this rightfully belongs to me and if you tell your father one word of this I'll deny it and tell him that it's just you being jealous."

"I don't understand. Why are you doing this?"

"Because you may be a little princess in your father's eyes but you're not deserving of the title."

Minerva then left taking the locket. Poor Juvia began to cry. Unknown to the both of them Lucy was scrubbing the floors of the corridor where that room was and she had heard the conversation. As quiet as a mouse she followed Minerva, watching her go into her bedchamber and place the locket into her jewelry box before going to sleep. Once she was sure Minerva was asleep Lucy did something very risky.

She quietly and carefully crept into Minerva's bedchamber. She knew if she was caught by her aunt it would most likely be the end of her but Juvia had been so kind to her the other day by giving her bread and cake from the ball and she felt that this would be the perfect way to repay her. She opened the jewelry box, grabbed the locket, and got out of there as quickly and quietly as possible. She then went Juvia's room and knocked on the door which was soon opened by a tired Juvia.

"Pardon the intrusion Miss." Lucy said. "But I brought you something."

She then held up the locket.

"Oh thank you." She said hugging her. "Thank you so much."

Juvia then quickly realeased her when she felt how cold her body was.

"You feel like ice. Doesn't your bed have a blanket?"

"I don't have a bed. I sleep on the kitchen floor."

"Well no wonder you're so cold. Do you wanna sleep with me in my bed tonight?"

"Won't I get into trouble Miss?"

"No. My stepmother doesn't wake me in the morning and my nurse maids won't mind."

"But my clothes are dirty."

"You can borrow one of my night gowns."

She helped Lucy dress into one of her nightgowns and the two went to bed.

"My mother's dead too you know." Lucy said.

"Do you remember her?" Juvia asked.

"Yes I do."

"I wish I remembered my mother."

"At least you still have your father. Mine's dead like my mother."

"You know they're not really gone."

"What do you mean?"

"My father said that when my mother died she turned into an angel and she'll be watching over me forever."

"Do you think that happened to my parents?"

"Yes I do. My father says that's what happens when parents who love their children die."

"Can I ask you something Miss?"

"Sure."

"Are we friends?"

"Of course."

"Then you wanna know a secret?"

"What?"

"You're my first and only friend."

"You wanna know a secret?"

"What?"

"You're my first and only friend too."

They smiled at each other and fell asleep, happy that they had found a friend. Time passed and as Juvia grew so did her beauty. By the time she was seventeen years old she had grown so beautiful and fair that there was no one in the entire kingdom of Fiore more lovely than her but she wasn't blessed with beauty alone. She also possesed a heart of kindness and love, caring deeply for everyone she knew. Unfortunately her unsurpassed beauty would soon earn her Minerva's jealous wrath.

#fairy tail #fairy tail au #fairy tales #juvia loxar #lucy heartfilia #brothers grimm #snow white #cinderella

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slusheeduck · 7 years ago

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The Way You Keep Me Guessing: Coco Teacher!AU

Because I couldn’t stop thinking about @scribblrhob‘s Teacher!AU and @upperstories‘s art for said Teacher!AU, I ended up writing something that’s probably a mess to read because I want to end 2017 crying about Hector and Miguel.

Update: Uncontrollable crying turned into a collaboration between me and @im-fairly-whitty!! Be sure to keep tuning in to both our blogs for updates!

Part 1: Unexpected Responsibility

Dios mio. I can’t take care of a kid.

The thought strikes Héctor on the drive back from Santa Cecilia, with the kid in question buckled in to the passenger’s seat. It’s a bit late to opt out now, considering he’d already agreed to take care of him while the family figured out what to do with Luisa and Enrique gone. Everything had been so sudden, he’d just gone on autopilot—went to the funeral, listened to Tía Elena’s instructions, helped pack up the kid—Miguel, his name was Miguel—and his things, and gotten back on the road to Capula without even thinking about the fact that he, Héctor Rivera, was now responsible for the health and well-being of a young child when he could barely take care of himself.

Well. It was just for a few months. Surely he could keep the kid alive that long?

He glances over at the boy beside him, hiding beneath the hood of his too-big sweatshirt and keeping his eyes firmly out the window. Héctor swallows, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

“So, ah…you’re eight?” he tries weakly. Ave María Purísma, he should be better at this. He is a teacher. But Miguel gives a short nod, and he sees an in. “Eight’s a good year, you know. I’m sure you’ll love…” Ohhh, he’s already messed this up. He clears his throat, looking back at the road before glancing at Miguel again. “Ah…you mind if I turn on the radio?”

Miguel shakes his head mutely, and Héctor wastes no time in switching the radio on. He groans at the terrible static that greets them. The way Chicharrón made him promise to take care of his precious car on the trip, he’d expected some beautiful, sleek vintage number, not a rattling camioneta that couldn’t even get the tiniest bit of signal.

He glances over as Miguel finally moves, leaning over to adjust the knobs expertly. After a few barely perceptible tweaks and turns, music finally bursts through the static. The quality’s still not great, but now there’s a definite song playing. Héctor gives a small smile.

“Pretty impressive, chamaco, considering this radio’s at least as old as Tía Elena.”

Miguel shrugs. “Papá’s radio is the same way,” he says before once again curling up in his seat and staring out the window.

“Must’ve taken a while to figure out how to do that,” Héctor says, desperate to keep a hold of some sort of conversation with the kid. “Most kids aren’t that patient. You must like music an awful lot.”

Miguel glances back at Héctor, just for the shortest moment, then shrugs before looking back to the window. Well, it wasn’t much, but it was something. And Héctor could work with that.

They come into Capula just as the sun’s starting to set. Miguel’s stayed silent throughout the trip, despite Héctor’s few attempts to coax out some form of conversation. Maybe the kid’s just quiet. That terrifies him more that he’d like to admit. He’s always liked the kids that are ready to talk the best; one-on-one meetings with quiet kids—where trying to get any sort of reply or reaction was like pulling teeth—were his absolute least favorite. He couldn’t imagine having to do that every day.

“Ah, mira, mira! There’s the school,” he said, pointing at the large buildings as they passed. “You’ll be in the primaria when the term starts, and I’m right next door in the secundaria.” He smiles at Miguel. “And you only have to call me Profe when you’re in the secundaria. Héctor’s fine anywhere else.”

Miguel looks up at him curiously. “Abuelita told me to call you Tío Héctor.”

“Well, sure. Tía’s always been old-fashioned. Not me, though.” He reaches into one of the cupholders and pulls out his sunglasses, putting them on despite the fact it’s nearly dark out. “I’m a cool tío. And cool tíos just go by their names.” He conveniently doesn’t mention that he was in no way fit to have the title of “tío” on him just yet.

He glances up at Miguel over his glasses and, just barely, he thought he could catch a ghost of a smile cross the boy’s face. There we go. Maybe there was hope for them yet.

The car’s parked in front of the apartment complex, and Miguel’s already pulled out his suitcase when Héctor yelps out a half-finished curse (Swearing in front of children is not good, he reminds himself, because then they’ll never stop repeating it. He’s learned this from several parent meetings and even more not-very-happy discussions with la directora.). When Miguel sends him a curious look, he tries to play it off coolly.

“Haa, funny thing, Miguelito! I, ah…with everything that happened, I…left my keys…in the apartment. But it’s all under control! I just…” He presses his lips together, then snaps. “But you know what? I’m lucky. I left a spare key with my neighbor for this exact situation.” Well, not this exact situation. It was much more along the lines of “Come and visit any time” (not that she did), but that was not something the angelito querido cielito needed to know just yet. He lopes back to the fire escape, calling for Miguel to stay put and that this would only take a minute, and starts the climb up to the apartment window he’s looking for—the muffled sounds of “La Llorona” being interrupted tell him he’d knocked on the right one. He puts on his most charming grin as the window opens, and he’s greeted by a long-suffering sigh and crossed arms.

“Rivera,” is beautiful, serious Imelda’s greeting.

“Diosa, am I glad you’re home. Wouldn’t you know, I’ve locked myself out of my apartment. Qué rollo, eh? I was…”

“If this is your way of trying to spend the night, I swear I have a boot right here...”

“No! No, not this time.” As lovely and romantic as flirting with Imelda on the fire escape is, he doesn’t like the idea of going back to Miguel with a boot imprint on his face. “I just wanted to know if you still have that spare key I gave you?” As she rolls her eyes, he adds, “Look, ordinarily I’d talk with the casero in the morning, but…the little chamaco down there is staying with me for the next…for a while, and he needs to get to bed as soon as possible.”

Imelda frowns curiously, and she sticks her head out the window to see if he’s lying. Héctor watches her face soften as she catches sight of Miguel down below. She chews at her lower lip, then looks up to the heavens before going back into the apartment. Héctor holds his breath, staying very still, then lets it out in a disbelieving laugh as Imelda returns with the key in her hand.

“And if you say a single word about me keeping this…”

“It goes with me straight to the grave, diosa.” He takes the key and sends her a big grin. “So I’ll see you before term starts, right, directora?”

“Go home, Héctor.” Imelda shuts the window sharply enough to nearly take off his nose, but the quick glance she gives over her shoulder makes it entirely worth it. He takes a moment to sigh dreamily, but remembers that there is, in fact, a child waiting for him down below, and that there will be plenty of time to moon over la directora in the staff meetings they’d be having in a few weeks. He lightly swings down the fire escape, then holds up the key triumphantly as he walks back to Miguel. The boy’s giving him a slightly worried look.

“Does that lady hate you?”

“Hate me? Oh, no, chamaco, she likes me a lot.”

The worry quickly turns to disgust. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“She…you know, this sort of thing’s pretty complicated and I bet you’re dead on your feet.” He picks up the suitcase and nods for Miguel to follow him. “Let’s get you set up in Casa Rivera, hm?”

He’s not sure if it’s nervous energy from being in a new place or a hint of what Miguel’s like when he’s not…in his current position, but the kid wastes no time in walking around the little apartment, looking at everything. Héctor lets him wander, setting the suitcase down for a moment.

“I’ve got that room over there set up for you. My roommate won’t mind…” He stops and lets out a little laugh as Miguel makes a bee-line for the record player, eyes wide, and Héctor can tell he’s itching to look through the records stacked beside it.

“Go ahead, take a look,” he assures. As he walks by, he chances giving the top of Miguel’s head a rub; the boy quickly ducks away, and Héctor carries on as if nothing happened. “The good ones are mine, the bad ones are Ernesto’s.”

Miguel, holding one of the records, looks at Héctor dubiously. “How am I supposed to know which ones are good and which ones are bad?”

“Well, that’s an easy answer, chamaco.” He returns to Miguel’s side and takes the record, flipping it once before lightly setting it in the player. “You gotta listen to it.” He sets the needle down, then switches the player on. They wait a few moments, both staring at the player, and Héctor sends Miguel a grin as the bright sound of guitars filled the apartment. “Hey, bastante buena, sí? This must be one of mine.”

A little smile makes its way across Miguel’s face, just enough to make the tiniest dent in one cheek, and he returns his focus to the music…at least, until he notices the guitar case in the corner of his eye. “Is that yours?”

“Mm-hm.” Héctor’s since made his way into the apartment’s teeny little kitchen, trying to figure out what he could possibly make for two people with three stale tortillas and rice that may or may not have been in the cupboard since he’d moved in.

“Can you play?”

“No, I just like the way it looks.” At Miguel’s offended expression, Héctor gives a little eyeroll. “Of course I can play. Ernesto and I wouldn’t be able to go on tours if I couldn’t.”

“No manches! Aren’t you a teacher?” Miguel argues.

“You think teachers hibernate during the summer? That’s when we get to have our fun.” He pulls out one of the tortillas and waves it; it holds its shape like a frisbee. Hm. “The plan was to be in Guadalajara this week, so Ernesto should be playing in one of the smaller clubs about now. Normally I go with him, but this year…” Well, it’s obvious why he isn’t on the summer tour. He doesn’t need to bring that up. He tosses the tortilla aside, noting how well it flies, and shrugs with a smile. “Well, it’s the reason you get your own room this summer instead of bunking with me!”

All at once, he sets his hands on Miguel’s shoulders and guides him toward the door, ignoring his little noise of protest. “Now, Señora Olguin lives downstairs, and she lives for feeding boys she thinks are too skinny. Why don’t we go down and make her night, hm?”

Héctor can’t sleep that night, and he knows it’s Miguel’s fault.

Even without being in the same room, Héctor can feel the anxiety radiating from the boy. And who could blame him? Losing his parents, being sent off with a tío he hadn’t met—he possibly hadn’t even heard of—and having to prepare himself for a new home, a new school, a new life for even a few months…it was entirely too much for any kid to have to endure. And that would be assuming that said tío wasn’t constantly dancing on the edge of disaster and a general danger to anything he tried to take care of. Moving in with Héctor? Miguel’d be lucky if he could survive this without being committed.

Héctor spends several hours tossing and turning, but there was no way he can sleep with the way things are. So he decides to stop this and try a new plan. He slips out of bed, throwing on the first wrinkled sweatshirt he can grab, and quietly makes his way back to the main room. He grabs his guitar case, then hesitates in front of Miguel’s door. He waits a moment, then another, then sucks in a breath and gives two quiet knocks.

“You still awake, Miguelito?”

“No.” Miguel’s voice is thick, and the sniffle that escapes through the door makes Héctor’s stomach twist. Maybe he should leave him. It’d probably be good for him to get all this out. And yet…

“Qué pena. I was gonna head to the roof, and I thought you might think that was cool.”

There’s a pause, and Héctor considers dropping it. But then he hears some movement on the other end of the door, and then another sniffle, and then a very quiet “Why are you going to the roof?”

“Sometimes staying inside’s a pain. Too many thoughts get trapped in here, you know? It’s nice to go somewhere where they can all just escape.” He shrugs. “But you’re asleep, so I don’t want to bother you.”

Héctor takes two steps back from the door, then waits. A moment later, the door creaks open. Miguel’s nose is still red, and he gives his eyes a quick wipe, but he’s pulled on his hoodie and shoved his feet into his shoes.

“Can I come to the roof with you, Héctor?” he asks quietly. Héctor smiles and ruffles Miguel’s hair—this time Miguel doesn’t duck away.

“Of course, chamaco. Just stay quiet; we don’t want to get complaints from going up the stairs too loudly.”

Technically, the roof “isn’t accessible”. But that didn’t stop Héctor from finding the service stairs when he’d moved in, and it doesn’t stop him from guiding Miguel up them now, making sure the boy keeps clear of any electrical wires or vents. They pick their way to Héctor’s favorite spot, one large enough for two people—perfect for a night of tequila and song writing, or sneaking the odd kiss while discussing next year’s curriculum, or to air out the worries and grief that’s been bottled up since Tía Elena said, “This is your Tío Héctor, Miguelito. You’ll be staying with him for a little while.”

Miguel watches with wide eyes as Héctor opens up the case, pulling out the gleaming white guitar. His mouth turns up as he catches the little skull grinning at him from the headboard as Héctor tunes it, then his jaw promptly drops as Héctor gives a grin and plays, near perfectly, the song they’d listened to on the record player.

“Nada mal, hm?” Héctor asks with a little laugh as he catches Miguel’s shocked face. “No one ever thinks that teachers do anything besides teach.” He gives Miguel a grin and a wink as he slows the song down. “Hope you learned something from that.”

Miguel doesn’t answer, instead moving up onto his knees and getting closer to Héctor, eyes fixed on the way his fingers danced over the frets.

“How can you play like that?” he asks when Héctor switches to a different song.

“About double your lifetime’s worth of practice and a good ear.”

“So will I be able to play like that if I practice? Without sheet music or anything?”

For the first time, Héctor feels like he’s getting a glimpse of the real Miguel, the Miguel that was around before the accident, before the move. His eyes are bright as he watches Héctor play, and he’s smiling enough to show off his dimple fully.

“I’m sure you will. In fact…” He stops playing and flips the guitar around, holding it out to Miguel. “Why don’t you show me what you know now?”

Miguel’s eyes widen, and he looks down in shock at the guitar as Héctor sets it in his lap. “I…I just started taking lessons. I can’t…”

“You’re a Rivera, though. We’ve got music in our bones.” He nods and waves a hand. “So show me whatever you think is the best you can do.”

Miguel looks up at Héctor with wide eyes, and his tongue pokes out, just a bit, as he adjusts the guitar in his lap. It’s too big for him, and he struggles to reach his hand around as he plucks out the sorriest “Estrellita” Héctor’s ever heard. He stops the boy quickly, shaking his head.

“No, no no no. That’s not right at all.”

“But I can’t reach!”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. Your whole attitude’s all wrong.” Miguel’s expression darkens, but Héctor snaps his fingers before he can say the obvious. “You need to perform. And the first step to that is loosening up.”

Miguel’s expression…doesn’t lighten, but it shifts to curiosity. He watches as Héctor shakes out his long limbs in precisely the way that got a guaranteed laugh from his students, then half-heartedly gives his arms a shake when prompted to copy him. Héctor crosses his arms with a little frown and shakes his head.

“Definitely not enough. I think we need to pull out el grito.” He looks at Miguel with raised eyebrows. “So come on, give me your best grito.”

“My best grito?”

“Every musician can do it, muchacho. So come on!” Before Miguel can say anything, Héctor is up on his feet, letting out a loud shout that echoed through the quiet, dark neighborhood. He looks down at Miguel, one eyebrow raised, and grins as the boy stands up and opens his mouth…to let out the tiniest squeak. He shakes his head.

“One more time. You just gotta yell.” He lets out another grito, this whoop prompting a few lights from neighboring buildings to turn on. He ignores them, watching as Miguel sucks in a breath, opens his mouth…

And lets out a shout loud enough to rival Héctor’s.

“That’s it, Miguelito! One more!” He crows out again and again, the shouts blending with Miguel’s trills and laughs. Miguel shouts a couple more times, then sucks in a deep breath to let out the loudest grito he can. But all at once, he chokes on the sound, and a loud sob escapes from him instead.

Héctor immediately pulls the boy toward him, paying no mind as Miguel drops the guitar to clutch him as the grief and stress from the day finally erupts out of him. He rests a hand on Miguel’s head as he hugs the boy to him.

“Está bien, está bien, Miguel,” he murmurs, keeping still as Miguel weeps against him. “You’re okay. Take as long as you need.”

He’s not really sure how long they stand there, but he makes no movement aside from a back rub or hair ruffle as Miguel continues to cry. He needs this; more than anything today, Miguel needs this moment. Eventually, he does gradually start to wind down, sobs fading to tears fading to hiccups and sniffles. He goes limp against Héctor, exhaustion winning out over anything else. Héctor finally pulls himself away from Miguel, looking at him for a long moment before turning and stooping down.

“Come on, hop up.”

Miguel doesn’t argue as he climbs up on Héctor’s back, burying his face into his shoulder. As they start walking, he hoarsely says, “But your guitar. I…”

“It’ll be here when I get back,” Héctor assures lightly as he makes his way back to the service stairs. Miguel lets out a breath as he nods, head falling back to Héctor’s shoulder. He stays quiet the entire way back to the apartment; Héctor’s fairly certain he’s fast asleep. He’s very careful to keep quiet as he makes his way back to Miguel’s room, and he’s extremely careful as he sets Miguel in the bed. He throws the blankets over the boy—he’d never figured out what tucking someone in entailed, so this will have to do—and half-smiles as he stands back up.

Well. One day down. Maybe they both could survive this.

He just starts to turn when he hears a very quiet voice ask, “Héctor?”

He turns back around—it looks as though Miguel’s fast asleep—but he kneels down beside the bed all the same. “Sí? What is it, chamaco?”

Miguel shifts, and suddenly two arms are wrapped tightly around Héctor’s neck.

“Thank you, Tío Héctor.”

That’s all he says before pulling back and turning over to fall asleep. Héctor, meanwhile, stays put, eyes wide. With some difficulty, he swallows the lump in his throat and stands up, giving Miguel’s hair one last ruffle before he steps out of the room.

It hits him, now, that the trouble might not be Miguel staying with him. It’s only been one day, but he’s already keenly aware that saying goodbye to the little chamaco might be the hardest thing he’ll ever have to do.

[Part 2: La Directora] [Part 3: Skipping Class] [Part 4: An Unannounced Visit] [Part 5: The Roommate] [Part 6: Día de Muertos (Pt. 1)] [Part 6: Día de Muertos (Pt. 2)] [Part 7: A Birthday Livestream]

(Also Wit came up with the titles because she’s awesome and I was too preoccupied with crying about Tío Héctor to come up with titles.)

#coco spoilers #fanfiction #scribblrhob #upperstories #Teacher AU #Hector #Miguel Rivera #One part of this may have been inspired by seeing how much the kids at work LOVE DOING GRITOS #Also everything is all over the place #Welp #It's 3:30 so I'm past caring

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