#also the fact she painted the accordion too!!

[jacarandaaaas]

since mirabels birthday is coming up let’s take a moment to appreciate how skilled this girl is🦋🧵🪡🪗🎨

all this and dancing + singing too!

[catbycoded]

two headed boy(toby talking about beau: torn between worlds, one foot in the basin and one foot in maycheste), all floating in glass(reference to glass chalet and trying not to think about it. their home in astradell is often regarded to as a glass house, very public with little to no privacy, something almost like an enclosure or a museum of the “perfect life”) the sun it has passed, now it’s blacker than black(reference to the sun/moon motif between beau and simon) i can hear as you tap on your jar(regarding their home as a glass enclosure once more, like a moth trapped inside a glass jar)(or like a body preserved in a jar for inspection, as interesting specimens tend to be) i am listening to hear where you are(toby desperately looking for beau during his time as a missing persons)(could also be interpreted as toby after beau’s passing: desperately searching for any sign that her soul is still around. he has a tendency to do so) i am listening to hear where you are(the repitition pushing toby’s dedication to her, only when it’s too late; he’s listening to hear where she is, always.)

two headed boy(another repeated line: he is still torn up by the fact that beau was double sided) put on sunday shoes(sunday or church shoes are often the best ones they own; toby is recalling a time they were both well-dressed during a maycheste festival. it is also a reference to religion, which is a prominent theme of the festival, and a theme of simon’s as well, who is introduced during this verse) and dance around the room to accordion keys, with a needle that sings in your heart(here beau is dancing to the music simon is playing at the festival, and singing along as well to create a two-sided harmony between sibeau)(furthermore, the song later leads into a song titled “the fool”, which is led by an accordion and could be the song beau is dancing to. the title could be a reference to his feelings of foolishness about toby and simon’s relationship) catching signals that sound in the dark(furthering beau’s perspective of toby and simon: beau is picking up on signals toby’s unknowingly giving off, with toby suddenly pulling back on their sexual life once simon is reintroduced) catching signals that sound in the dark(repeated, toby is guilty and hung up about beau’s feelings in relation to his unloyalty. this line also leads into the next verse, which pushes the theme of beauby’s sexual life)

we will take off our clothes(toby looking back at the times their sexual relations were healthy and alive) and they’ll be placing fingers through the notches in your spine(now recalling the basin’s control of beau, painting imagery of the basin placing fingers through the most sensitive part of the body and controlling her actions) and when all is breaking everything that you could keep inside(now leading into the breaking of their relationship after the reveal of beau’s relation with the basin, it feels like the whole world is breaking apart inside of not only toby but in beau as well) now your eyes aren’t moving now, they just lay there in their climb(the final act of their story is beau’s death. this also alludes to the reading of a book, when the eyes stay still and the head moves down the page to read, which is a state toby will always remember beau in.)

[kursed-curtain]

"It's just one itty-bitty task," She'd said. "This is a good opportunity for you to meet new friends!" She'd said.

He wasn't particularly fond of these people. Not that he hated them, but he felt like such an outsider around them. They started him down like he had just burned down a forest into a clearing. He was supposed to belong here. Yet he didn't like the idea of the carnies and clowns as his friends.

He stops in front of a small, colorful caravan - the one right behind the Singleader's. This must be the place she was talking about.

The door creaks open, and light streams into the windowless caravan. The floor is covered in a messy tarp, paint splattered like warfare. Seems whoever made the place should have also put tarp along the walls and ceiling - seeing as they were all covered in a colorful mess. On one wall, hung by clothespins, were portraits of children's faces, decorated in playful face paint. On another sat boxes of paint supplies, piled up to the top of the caravan.

Surprisingly, though, there's nobody here - despite the fact the Singleader said her "best friend Jaquelin" was supposed to be here. Maybe she was misinformed (though if he thought like that, he could be getting himself in a lot of trouble).

There's a small squeaking sound, like a plush toy, that draws his attention to a small chest. It's a beautiful shade of robin's egg blue, and messily covered in doodle-ridden parchment. Taking a closer look, there isn't any sort of traditional latch, and where a keyhole should be, there isn't one.

The drawings lead his eye to some sort of lever. There's a painted smiley face above it. An invitation… or a warning?

There wasn't anything else of interest in here, so…

He pulled the lever and the box played a note. Not a lever - a crank, for a music box. He chuckled, then continued to turn the handle.

Round and 'round the cobbler's bench

The monkey chased the weasel,

The monkey thought 'twas all in fun…

From the chest leaps a frightening figure. The carnie lad jumps back, into a stack of paint cans, knocking over one and just narrowly catching it.

Noticing him, the figure retreats back into the chest, still peeking out a tad.

The lad sits precariously in the pile of paint supplies, cradling the can in one arm. Out of all the clutter, a paint brush hurdles down the pile, rolls across the floor, and taps against the foot of the chest.

Whatever is living inside the jack-in-the-box brings out its gloved hand and creeps over to grab the brush, before drawing it back inside. He sees the figure clutching the paint brush and… shivering.

"Is there something wrong?" He finally manages to utter.

The figure makes a small gesture, pointing to… him?

"Me? What did… Oh," he warily stands up, "Did I scare you?"

The lid closes a bit more, only being held by the box figure's puffy white gloves. He thinks he can see the figure nodding.

He kneels down, to get on eye level with the box person. "Sorry I scared you, though you scared me a little too."

The box makes a sort of apologetic squeak, and the lad chuckles. "I'm looking to help a Jacquelin? Do you know where they might be?"

Excited, the person springs from the box, giving the lad a clearer view of their butterfly mask, beret, and stained apron. They're pointing insistently to themself.

It finally clicks to him. "You're Jacquelin? This is your caravan, of course!"

The realization of the play-on-words name is enough to get a good laugh out of him. "Mind if I call you Jacque? It's fitting."

Jacque claps their gloved hands, then slows to cover a spot in their accordion-like arms.

The carnie lad notices. He holds out his hand so he can inspect. Jacquelin, with reluctance, gives their arm over.

There's a rip in the fabric. More importantly, instead of flesh or springs or whatever he expected to be inside, he was met with a pool of loose, black tendrils.

He almost let go out of shock, but Jacque, looking past the mask, looked crestfallen. Having pity on Jacque, he took out his needle and thread, then started to sew.

Jacque was very cooperative, standing still enough for his hands to steady. Soon, the tendril hole was sealed up, and Jacque's box made a happy chirping sound.

"Hope your arm… heals or… something?"

Jacque made a jolly squeak. They held up a finger, then sprung up to hug the lad.

"Ah-! You're welcome- just… let go- can't breathe-" he choked out. Jacque made an apologetic squee, then waved goodbye to the lad.

He grinned, then strode out the door. Another satisfied customer.

…Though, to say he didn't wonder about Jacque's familiarity would be a lie.

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 4 June 1953

Another week, another film instrumental. This time, by our old friend Mantovani, who previously has appeared with a version of White Christmas. This is less festive, but no less cliché (in a mostly good way, I think?)

The Song from Moulin Rouge - Mantovani (peaked at No. 1)

First thing to get out of the way: that is not a song title. That is how you describe the song when you can't remember the song title. Come on, you can do better than this!!

A very quick google tells me the song is called "It's April Again", which actually fits the rhythm of the opening line with the accordion. Apparently it's also called "Where is Your Heart", although that phrase is never used in the lyrics that this song originally, in the film, had. They were lip-synched by Zsa Zsa Gabor, but guess who actually sang them? If you said Muriel Smith from last week, you would be correct! Perhaps this is why she also got a hit last week? People liked this song from the film enough that they went out and bought other songs by her, and also this Mantovani cover version of the main theme. Huh.

Second thing to mention, then, with that out the way: it's very French. Very Parisian, in fact. Even if I didn't know this was the song from Moulin Rouge, I would immediately know where this film was set. Which I guess is good sound-painting? The accordion and the strummy chords on the guitar immediately summon up street performers in the French capital. It's got a sort of bohemian charm that's very likeable.

Once the accordion intro has passed, we get a few more of Mantovani's signature strings, and the sound gets fleshed out a bit. The accordion never quite goes away, though, and it's a fairly low-key affair throughout, no huge orchestral swell or anything.

I love the moment maybe thirty seconds towards the end, when the whole piece just pauses and hangs on a note before carrying on. It feels very evocative, somehow, and I do like it. A little, restrained moment.

The film is about Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, bumming around 1890s Montmartre. There looks like there are complicated, torrid affairs with dancers, lots of people getting drunk, multiple suicide attempts, and a tragic ending. I kind of want to watch this film, not least because I find the turn-of-the-century scene in France fascinating. It's such an interesting vibe, and the film genuinely looks quite good. One for the list, I guess?

It doesn't look to have much to do with the 2001 musical, but it also doesn't seem completely unrelated. I think I remember Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec being in that film too, at least? Hmm, perhaps another one for a re-watch...

I listened to this song quite a lot and genuinely still enjoyed it by the end, which is more than I can say for any of last week's songs. The melody carried me along well, and I found myself anticipating its peaks and quite points quite eagerly. This is very much a point in Mantovani's favour. Plus, it did its job, I do actually want to watch the film now!

Ma chanson préférée de la bande: The Song from Moulin Rouge

[missoneminute]

Translation of Peter’s French radio interview by @theoriginalcollectorglitter12! thank you so much! 

Peter says he will present the songs that have influenced his new album. The Jam - English Rose. Magnificent, that's the right word. Listening to him touches me a lot. How do we relate it to our album The fantasy of... in fact we stung, borrowed lyrics from The Jam, like "yes, I'm wearing a mask". When we wrote in Etretat, Frédéric Lo often played this song, we even thought of doing a cover, and he also played songs by David Bowie - Little China Girl. The first time I met with Frédéric Lo, was to do a cover of Daniel Darc, Inutile Et Hors d'Usage. I think I prefer my version, because the melody stands out even more. I met Frédéric Lo once in Paris, in a bar, I remember very well his leather jacket which stank and his tattoo of the man with the golden arm. We sang and screamed a Happy Mondays song in the bar and we were asked to leave... (Frédéric Lo then told Peter that Daniel Darc liked him a lot, and Peter was moved). I admit that Jarvis cocker was a god for me when I was 14,15 years old, he is a hero of the people in England and a sacred dancer. He’s a kind of an icon. We crossed paths 2 or 3 times, but these are not very interesting anecdotes: once he dropped off his children at school, and I was passing by in a taxi and I shouted "hey Jarvis", he lifted his head without saying anything... Peter says the group October replaced the group Dexys Midnight Runners because their singer insulted David Bowie on stage during their first act and they were therefore fired from the tour. Then Peter talks about the neighboring house in Etretat, and says that she belongs to the family of the drummer of the group October, but that he does not know if it is true, and therefore does not know who is the drummer of Talking Heads. So we were in Etretat writing and recording songs, and on very rare occasions we would go out, but we had very little social life because there was confinement (lockdown). There was a bar in Le Havre and on the wall a painting of a guy in a tank top, long legs and an accordion at his feet. I thought he had a good look, it was Marc Minelli. I wanted to listen to a song that captures all that Normandy represents for me, outside of any rock or pop context. This song, my wife's grandmother sang to her when she was a child, it's the only version I found... (Ma Normandie - Les Devanautes) if I'm not mistaken, this song is about a hunter who went in pursuit of a rabbit and who gets lost in the mist. The Charming Man is the kind of song that forms the cornerstone of why I wanted to sing, dance and even stay alive, and Frédéric Lo likes to play it when it's time to pass the time, or calm his nerves. Peter says the Clash song was written by Mick Jones when his childhood friend, who was doing robberies and heists, was released from prison. It's a song about friendship, it's also a very beautiful melody. Mick Jones produced two Libertines albums and the Babyshambles album, and I wanted to work with him again. When we made the list of our possible contacts, there was Mick Jones and Terry Hall from the Specials. I wrote him a letter, to which he never replied: "So Mick, if you listen to this show, stay free and stay in touch". We still have to talk about David Bowie, because this song "Heroes", this chord progression, Frédéric Lo has it, I wouldn't say stolen, but "upcycled". It didn't work out, but there is still this feeling of saying that we too could be heroes and write such great songs. I remember exactly when we had a rather heated debate on Oasis and I told you (Frédéric Lo) about the cover of "Heroes" by Oasis, and you played me on the guitar an imitation of Liam Gallagher playing David Bowie. 

[a-magical-artist]

Top Ten Favorite Doppels

Turned in less than five minutes before Halloween ends, but whatever:

10. Abigail

Hagumu is really just a scared kid despite being a Neo Magius stooge, and Abigail is a very good representation of that; Hagumu closes her eyes whenever she comes out, to which, same as Abigail is a very intimidating doppel filled with teeth and spikes. Her form’s listed as a “reversible shape” and she gives the impression of a torn up, straw-filled doll with a toothy mouth and spines/shards all throughout her inner lining. It’s also a good twist that since Hagumu’s magic makes her unusually strong against witches, Abigail is the opposite, being effective against magical girls. 

I really love the exterior on this one, it looks very pretty and ornate, and it does a nice job contrasting with the messy, shard-filled fiber underneath.

9. Gothel

I’m very close to unlocking Gothel (all I need are materials for Magia leveling), but I already love her design. She takes Yozuru’s wish and magnifies/projects it as many witches (or doppels) do, in her case, trying to find someone or something that can make Yozuru feel the emotions she wished away. She takes the form of a tower (name being a great Rapunzel reference) with exposed ribs she uses to drag in and crush whatever she sees, which is...fairly impressive as a doppel design without being too gory (a reason why Beatrice and Therisia aren’t here or in this slot). 

8. Clothette

I...really, really don’t like Suzune Magica, and I don’t like Suzune. I do however, have a grudging respect for her Doppel design. Clothette’s based around a gadfly, comes out of Suzune’s eye, has bells for eyes, and is constantly on fire. It’s a great design, but points off for coming from a character I can’t stand.

7. Gibdaughter

So, fun fact about hummingbirds for anyone who doesn’t know; they’re beautiful little birds...that have the worst tempers. I love them for that, and I’m happy to see one used as a base for a doppel design. Gibdaughter, as per usual, externalizes Kanae’s wish to be left in peace by using her very love of music. Her main attacks all revolve around the vibrations she gives off, adjusting them to resonate with her targets until they shatter. Given both the animal and the character of Kanae, this was an all too appropriate fit. The doppel’s mechanical appearance is pretty and both a nice reference to hummer feathers (they give off a metallic sheen when light hits them), and to Kanae’s aloof exterior.

6. Sylvie

Given how sweet and caring Ikumi is, this one was a surprise. Sylvie’s a very invasive doppel-moreso than Hevelius even-in that she’s not only formed from Ikumi’s lower half, but also seems to thread her way through her entire body given Ikumi’s eyes turn into glowing, barbed anchors. Definitely lines up with her nature, but...jesus. She gives the impression she’s based around one of those cymbal monkey toys, which is already creepy enough, but Sylvie’s “head” is just Ikumi, and also the gigantic screw jutting out of her upper back. The accordion midsection does not help in any of this and makes Sylvie’s movements look off, even for a doppel. Good but horrifying design, though the glowing eye anchors are a little over the top for me. 

5. Hund Balou

Hund Balou is one of the rare genuinely disturbing doppels; Hanna was already very close to being her by externalizing her curse on the world and those around her, so there’s not much for Hund to do except just. be destructive. Her form is creepy, her description’s creepy, everything about Hund is really screwed up. And Hanna, being spiteful, vindictive Hanna, loves her and thankfully, never got the opportunity to use her for some pretty obvious reasons. Hanna’s relationship with Hund is similar to Alina’s with Old Dorothy-both are in sync with their doppels and have the same goal, which is...horrifying given both characters. Hund is really cluttered and witch-like in appearance, being covered in leashes, chains, and buttons with a splattered green/purple/blue dress topping it all off. Her mixed media feel is pronounced, which is a good indication of how close Hanna is to her, and how messed up her implications really are.

4. Ein Roter Drache

This is the stupidest, and yet most awesome doppel I have ever seen; it’s a dragon that makes its entrance by riding on its hoard of treasure and smacks its targets with its tail. The tiny crown is a really funny touch for it and I will forever be sad that I can’t get Elisa outside of a support as of NA’s shutdown

Also love how it’s just Elisa’s bottom half to give the illusion she’s riding the doppel-that’s awesome and I love the creativity going into it

3. Oaji

*Insert the “What are you doing in my swamp” mere here*

Oaji takes the appearance of an entire swamp that lures people in, hinting at both the barrier of the witch and the witch herself possibly being similar to Zola, which is a cool concept. I love how simple she looks, and her coming out from behind Chiharu lines up with her misguided efforts to help her. She kind of gives off a similar vibe to Elsa Maria from the original series-even the branches bring the Sebastian familiars to mind. Also really love the lantern and the gray pool forming underneath Chiharu-the gold streaks just really top everything off here.

2. Marita

I love assassin bugs and so I love Marita. Instant number two for me

For real though, I didn’t expect these to be used as a doppel base, so I was very surprised when Sunao came out and her doppel had this as one. It looks appropriately creepy and very elegant, and I like the little necklaces hanging just below the head of the doppel. Marita also shares the needle/sewing aesthetic with Latria, and although there’s no blood, the giant one serving as a mouth is scary enough in implication. The crystal ball (that turns red during attacks) being the doppel’s abdomen’s also a nice touch. 

Honorable Mentions:

Old Dorothy: Old Dorothy in-game is described as witch-like, and that’s because unless the viewer knows where her core body is, she just looks like an unrecognizable mass of puffballs and paper flowers dipped in orange paint. With witches, you can never really tell what it is you’re looking at, so Old Dorothy gives off that same impression. She didn’t officially make it because of her weird little core body, but I do love her gimmick. 

Theresia: I do like Theresia, but I felt her design wouldn’t fit since I’m trying to avoid the more gory doppels. I do like how she’s literally just Sana’s ears, and how there’s two versions of her that have an equal chance of coming out (though this does present some complications when going competitive with Sana).

Poker Alice: Too much of what looks to be exposed muscle for me to feel comfortable putting her in, but I adore the skulls exploding outward behind the chair and the hands covering Yukika’s eyes. Speaking of, the eyes on this thing are both cool and nicely scary in contrast to the simplicity of the rocking chair. 

Gosirsa: Colorful and very beautiful, the wheels at the front make for a surreal touch, something that many doppels tend to lack due to being scaled down versions of the full witch. Didn’t make it because there’s too few slots and too many doppels to choose from, but definitely in my personal faves.

1. Campanella

Campanella’s just the right amount of dumb, elegant, and unsettling, hence her being here at the number one spot. Yachiyo’s training event also helped me warm up to her; while Yu Hong and Cyan were self-defeating and frustrated respectively, Camp was really, really mellow by contrast. She seemed willing to work with Yachiyo as long as she accepted and stopped rejecting her, which was, at the time, a very nice change from the usual (not that Camp doesn’t try to take over however-once Yachiyo implies she’s going to keep running from her, she goes on the attack). She takes the form of a ticket puncher holding a lantern, comes out of Yachiyo’s leg, and gives the overall impression of a scorpion, ridiculously oversized shoes and all. Her anime appearances are a nice representation of Yachiyo’s fears and it’s just really satisfying to find out  that they have enough of a relationship to where she can use her in fights. Doppels when it comes down to it are a sort of agreement/truce between the magical girl and their witch self; not only does it allow them to come back, it allows them to make peace with their insecurities and fears without the danger of turning into a witch. Campanella, both in-game and the anime, represents that relationship to its fullest, so she’s at the #1 spot. 

[luluwquidprocrow]

love was made for me and you (and you)

originally posted: february 15th, 2019

word count: 22,821 words

rated: teen

beatrice baudelaire/bertrand baudelaire/lemony snicket, beatrice baudelaire/lemony snicket, beatrice baudelaire/bertrand baudelaire

violet baudelaire, klaus baudelaire, beatrice baudelaire, lemony snicket, bertrand baudelaire, kit snicket, the duchess of winnipeg, dewey denouement, olivia caliban, beatrice snicket

alternate universe – modern setting, alternate universe – everybody lives/nobody dies, alternate universe – parent trap fusion, family, romantic comedy, humor, with occasional required sad undertones, screenplay/script format, less of a fic and more of an outline but one hell of an outline, with enthusiastic swearing by yours truly, referenced but very background kit/dewey and duchess/olivia

Summary:

[so beatrice is nicholas, lemony is elizabeth, violet is annie, klaus is hallie, bertrand is the absolute worst at being meredith because he is a Genuinely Nice Person so honestly he’s really not meredith at all, and those parallels are all a little loose anyway because i moved places and conversations and character roles and basically everything around, everyone is just a mess. where is vfd????? i sure don't know.]

Notes:

back in march 2018, the good the iconic the legendary the CLASSIC ace attorney parent trap au came back on my dash and I decided to rewatch the parent trap a few days later, and as I was watching it, I thought, ‘i wonder how that would work with asoue, and lemony and beatrice, and of course with them getting together with bertrand,’ because I will of course ship the three of them together in any fic I can, but I told myself ‘girl, you cannot write this fic. you have too many other fics to write, you canNOT write this fic.’

I then told myself, ‘well, yeah, okay, but that doesn’t mean I can’t outline it.’

and then the outline spun wildly out of control, to the point where i was never going to write it as a full actual fic because it wasn't going to work like that anymore, but also to the point where it had a life of its own and was in my opinion somehow still worth reading like an actual fic. this is over 20k of a lemonberry ice parent trap au half-fic/half-outline/half-weird-script/wonderful mess of conversations and headcanons, and I genuinely hope my weirdly detailed ramblings (and unapologetic swearing) bring people as much unbridled joy as they bring me. I wrote this with the intention to have fun, and I hope!! you have fun too!!!

I think you can get through this with a working knowledge of the parent trap movie (1998 version) but a thorough knowledge is also very good

title obviously corrupted from love by nat king cole

.

lemony and beatrice, young and definitely foolish and definitely in love but totally not thinking this through, marry (fairly soon after college) and beatrice has twins, violet and klaus (violet is two minutes older, their birthday in this splits the difference between (what I personally image to be) their canon birthdays, so that’s, what, january 8th or something???? first I had it as the 3rd but nick and liz marry in the movie on january 8th and I was like ‘well that’s not too big a change to make in the name of a good reference’).

not long after, their marriage dissolves (for, well, pretty much canon reasons???? I mean like with less accusations of arson and criminal activity. lemony has Radical Commitment Issues and beatrice is Impulsive and Angry and Not Taking Anyone’s Shit and honestly how they made it through marriage and having kids with all those problems completely in tact and never doing anything about them is anyone’s guess, love is Occasionally Not Cool), they divorce, and lemony takes violet and beatrice takes klaus.

they both leave The City which I have always imagined as new york even though i’ve never spent a second there in my life, but anyway, beatrice does go to california (she likes the weather, but she does not end up in sanfran (danhan’s hometown) – the part of me simultaneously obsessed with a different fandom is screaming santa barbara!!!! but no i’m going to stick with the movie and say although she’s not in a vineyard she is in napa), the idea of lemony just being in england as like, a concept, and especially with a broken heart, is hilarious to me

kit: do I have to confiscate your copy of keats?

kit: do I?

kit: do I, lemony??????

beatrice raises klaus with the help of the duchess of winnipeg (and ramona’s delightfully sentimental and frankly adorable wife, olivia caliban, I will sail this ship single-handedly I guess) (what is ramona doing in california????? OH MAN DO I FINALLY GET TO BUST OUT THIS LINE I TOOK OUT OF THE BAYBEA FIC

ramona: have you seen winnipeg lately???

ramona: there’s not much for me to duchess over.

actually it’s probably that ramona’s mother is still alive in this (otherwise what would be the POINT of everybody lives/nobody dies modern au???? fucking fight me) and she takes care of winnipeg and ramona was like ‘…...canada’s not doing it for me’ and her mother was like ‘canada doesn’t do it much for anyone, dear.’ and ramona skedaddled to california with olivia, which worked out because they have banging careers as artists out in california.) (ramona paints (she likes watercolors and pastels), olivia actually writes historical fiction lesbian romance novels (where everyone also lives!!! she writes an on point jazz age novel only everyone lives and it’s great) (why historical fiction??? olivia is a sucker for romance and loves big sweeping romance epics….and ramona) (are her books just. period piece self-inserts with her and ramona??? well why the FUCK not), they are both………..really too good for this world.) (anyway bea has zero (0) family with which to raise klaus so ramona and olivia offer to help her out. out of the goodness of their hearts and long-standing friendship, not because they have any experience raising a child. they do not. have any experience.)

and lemony raises violet with the help of his sister. kit and dewey get together earlier, and have their daughter earlier (violet’s….five or six when she’s born?), and name her (obvs not beatrice) bernadette (I have Specific Reasons for naming her bernadette, however that is in my giant list of bernadette headcanons, which is a whole other Thing). beatrice is an actress (klaus can’t act for shit, sorry), lemony is a writer (violet doesn’t have a poetic bone in her body, sorry). (but violet can act and klaus is pretty good at putting words together.)

ELEVEN YEARS AGO BY, or, well, eleven and a half, I guess, eleven and a half delightful years filled with the following –

-lemony and beatrice fervently denying they ever married each other and trying to forget the other even exists, what do you mean you have photographic evidence, we were definitely not married

-ramona’s mother briefly going to california to tell three grown women how to change a diaper

-klaus, age one and a half, crawling up the staircase in their house all by himself to get to the library, beatrice promptly dies out of sheer terror

(true event. I did that.)

-violet getting ahold of a wrench at the same age and fixing one of the loose bars in her crib

(not a true event. I did not do that.)

-dewey and jacques, trying to fix the curtains in violet’s room, immediately and silently agreeing to never tell lemony they were The Worst Uncles In Existence for five seconds for accidentally dropping the wrench in violet’s crib

-beatrice training herself not to do a double-take every time she sees klaus with a book because he looks fleetingly like lemony, just for that second

-lemony lulling violet to sleep with a variety of accordion songs, violet’s favorite is his rendition of what he says is ‘a song about spending a day on the beach’ but is actually why I cry by the magnetic fields (particularly danhan’s rendition of it with ben gibbard.)

-hey I never said they were successful at forgetting each other, especially when the kids were kids

-a truly harrowing number of children’s birthday parties

-kit snicket, who firmly kept her maiden name, going through what she called ‘The Chillest Pregnancy In Existence, Look At Me, I’m Completely Fucking Calm’ in the middle of labor

-klaus going through a period where he only read poetry, which caused bea and ramona and olivia to speak in rhyme for a week

-violet insisting she could fix the toaster and promptly not fixing the toaster because nothing was wrong with the toaster (it just wasn’t plugged in.)

-beatrice appearing in a number of plays, klaus being enchanted when she’s in les mis and reading the book but, in fact, only finding the outrageously long sewer chapter interesting

-violet trying to write a poem for lemony for father’s day and rhyming ‘orange’ with ‘mortgage’

that summer, they both wind up sending violet and klaus to the same summer camp excursion, because what sort of comedy would this be without the wildest coincidence ever, honestly

kit drops violet off at the camp a la martin – will lemony get on a plane?? that is a resounding No (also he would have just cried the whole time. the whole time. the. whole. time.)

however lemony is the one who does the ‘fruits, vegetables’ thing, only before violet leaves, and he gives her a million hugs and honestly doesn’t want her to go to camp oh my god, it’s only because violet tells him he’s sort of squishing her that he stops hugging her, lemony is???? like the most concerned parent of all time

kit, meanwhile….

kit: I was going to give you a new dart set but I was informed that they would not let you through customs.

violet: uncle dewey told you, didn’t he.

kit: I married a real killjoy, violet.

I honestly cannot think of a scene for klaus to parallel hallie meeting glasses and tie dye girl while getting her duffel bag. I thought of putting the quagmires in this but I think that’s…...pushing the identical envelope a little here (would’ve been worth it though for the brief note I used to have here that was just isadora shouting ‘HOW DID THEY TAKE SO LONG TO REALIZE THEY WERE RELATED THEY LOOK EXACTLY ALIKE’)

i’m sure they hang out with like-minded people before running into each other, it’s a good camp and they literally never talk to those other characters again anyway, which is, a real shame

we can all at least rest assured that klaus gets to camp in once piece regardless and doesn’t have a conversation about darts and airport customs, anyway beatrice, ramona, and olivia each smuggle a deck of cards into his suitcase as a surprise and he has three card decks and impresses all the other kids in his cabin with a giant architecturally sound house of cards made to resemble thoreau’s cabin at walden pond

hey annie and hallie are both allergic to strawberries and KLAUS AND VIOLET ARE ALLERGIC TO PEPPERMINTS

before they meet there’s probably a moment like with marva sr and the strawberries (I just had a horrifying thought that JEROME is the camp counselor (esme is nowhere in this. olaf is nowhere in this.) and that’s…………..awful, but, as I was writing the following scene, you know who I wrote him more like?????? arthur fucking poe, what did I just fucking do, honestly poe is a WORSE choice but…...well

mr. poe: we have peppermint brownies today!

[I just saw someone on the food network make peppermint cheesecake brownies and I want them so bad]

klaus: oh, i’m allergic

mr. poe: oh, well, please live

mr. poe: I cannot perform cpr

klaus: …………………………………………………………….shouldn’t you maybe –

mr. poe: for your own personal safety and especially my own i’m going to have to ask you to step away from the brownies

[violet shows up on mr poe’s other side]

violet: oh! peppermint, i’m allergic

mr. poe: another – didn’t I just see you? how did your hair get longer that fast? that’s not an allergic reaction, is it?

violet: ……………………………………………………………...i don’t think that’s –

mr. poe: i’m going to eat this entire brownie pan to save lives, but also because I want these brownies

he came out more like show!poe instead of book!poe but, I do not care, no one cares about mr. poe.

SO, violet and klaus eventually do meet and have practically zero immediate animosity, also through fencing!!! lemony and bea are both canonically badass fencers but I stand by what I said in fight me, that lemony is the better fencer, and violet wins. klaus concedes his loss to a talented fencer. they take off their masks and are like WHOA WE LOOK REASONABLY SIMILAR

violet: I don’t know, I think your eyes might be little farther apart than mine.

klaus: oh, don’t worry, i’ll probably grow into them. it can take some time before people really grow into their faces.

however this does get them talking and they find out they have so much in common! they’re like, ‘you like books and only have one super weird parent??? what a coincidence!’

then they find out they both play cards. (this stays, cause poker games are gold and I am reasonably sure watching the parent trap so much as a kid was what instilled this love of ‘hilarious poker games’ in me because I used to jam them into my fanfics all the time.) (also explains why I only know two poker hands….)

they hold an (amicable!) poker game that night with all the campers, and they do like a round robin tournament sort of thing and swap tips all night until it’s just the two of them facing each other, and klaus wins. (lemony is Pretty Good at cards and definitely taught violet BUT you’re damn right bea taught her kid how to count cards. not that klaus wins through cheating, he also has a natural talent and bea’s impeccable poker face. klaus also hangs out with ramona, who has repeatedly kicked lemony’s ass at cards as well.)

since they still have to wind up in the isolation cabin (because how else are they going to secretly plan swapping identities with NO GODDAMN COUNSELOR noticing???), CARMELITA is at camp and busts them for the poker game. she got eliminated pretty early in the game and camped out outside the cabin the rest of the kids were in waiting until someone won and then got mr. poe.

mr poe: gambling is not for children! unless of course you have a verified accountant or, perhaps, an established banker who wanted to embark on a personal journey and decided to run a camp for small children but has always wanted to go back and manage money again because, you know, even after the two scandals, I was good at – but we don’t have time for this, violet, klaus, it’s very irresponsible to try and get adults going on a tangent to avoid your responsibilities.

violet and klaus: but we didn’t –

mr poe: i’m afraid that I have no other choice but to send you to the isolation cabin.

carmelita: cakesniffers in the isolation cabin!!! CAKESNIFFERS IN THE ISOLATION CABIN!!!!

oh……..that was painful.

AT LEAST THE CABIN IS LIKE A NICE GOOD CABIN AND NOT the orphan shack, also like how far into the woods is the isolation cabin???? do the marvas really just leave kids out there?????? come on, marvas…..

and so our heroes get stuck in a windy lil cabin out in the woods.

what do they do when they hang out there, since they have Zero Animosity???? talk about books. read books. klaus does sketches of various local leaves. violet rewires the lamps so they don’t flicker and rigs up the windows so they don’t bang open in the middle of the night. the only thing they argue about is how to make toast, which isn’t even IN the cabin (unless violet makes something into a toaster), whatever

does klaus have a stuffed animal like cuppy???? damn straight he does. because why the hell not. (some boys play with dolls? SOME BOYS HAVE STUFFED ANIMALS)

i’m being really basic here but it’s a teddy bear BUT bea made lil wire glasses for it because klaus got glasses when he was real little so she thought he’d feel better if his favorite stuffed animal also had glasses (bea wears glasses but she HATES wearing them although I think after klaus gets glasses she tries to wear them more because bea is supportive as hell) (she needs new glasses though like they’re still these big thick black frames from her goth phase and she hates them but she hates the idea of an eye doctor appointment more) (bold of me to assume bea has ever honestly stopped having a goth phase, though…)

oh gosh what is the bear’s name

what’s something like super nerdy but cute for a small book-loving child to have named a bear

oh no, he names it kenneth. bea reads baby klaus the wind in the willows and he names his bear kenneth and this is so cute. I can’t fucking handle this, oh my god

honestly I am one of those people who thinks oreos w/ peanut butter would be pretty disgusting. (I mean, without the cream in the middle, sure, that probably tastes good, but like, with the cream and the peanut butter???? no) their snack of choice is………….hey isn’t there a snack in penultimate peril at the picnic it’s mentioned they like

or is just because I have that particular book within three feet of me, i’m gonna check

okay, it does mention that klaus likes custard eclairs, violet makes a smoked fish sandwich and wants to try the chocolate spread. maybe they just like oreos, sans peanut butter. I like oreos. (also, you can’t stash eclairs in a suitcase.

olivia, staring at a series of freshly-baked custard eclairs and a collection of tupperware containers: ….do you think I made too much??

ramona: olivia, he’s – he’s just going to summer camp.)

ANYWAY, how do they realize they’re siblings???? like???? how do

do they have half pictures in this??????? I think that’s honestly going to be the easiest way

like, of course lemony and beatrice would have a wedding picture, and they are both absolutely extra and dramatic enough to have each other’s half

it probably is still a ‘sitting at a table, staring lovingly at each other’ sort of thing, lemony in a white suit and beatrice in a suitably extravagant but actually still somehow very low-key for her wedding dress (there’s a lot of tulle though, like………..layers of tulle………………………..), their color scheme flower-wise was red and white roses because like, what fucking else would they pick at that time (they are only JUST convinced by like, jacques, probably, to do red/white instead of red/black, beatrice personally wanted purple/black)

kit gave violet the picture of beatrice, because while she hasn’t spoken to beatrice since her brother’s divorce, she does think lemony and bea could stand to talk to each other

(although I headcanon kit as the kind of person to firmly forget about past romances and put them behind her THROUGH ANY MEANS NECESSARY this is not strict asoue canon, and she always liked beatrice, anyway. lemony and bea breaking up isn’t like kit and olaf breaking up, which, i’m not even gonna try and touch in this)

klaus found the picture of lemony when he was reading through anna karenina (beatrice forgot she put it in there when she let klaus read it) and figured immediately that it had to be his father, and he kept it (maybe he showed it to ramona, who was like, ‘yep, that was your father. goodness, I forgot how awful his hair looked back then.’)

they’re probably reading some book about geography (klaus is into geography at the time)

klaus: my mother says that for my birthday next year, she’ll take me on a trip to see the famous hinterlands sunset.

violet: my father’s shown me pictures, but he agrees that it’s a lot prettier in person, but he’s also not one for planes.

klaus: well, I don’t believe hinterlands are technically confined to one geographical area, i’m sure there’s more than just in california – here, i’m sure there must be more information in the index.

violet: when’s your birthday, klaus?

klaus: january 8th.

violet: !!!! that’s my birthday!

klaus: !!! that is an extraordinary coincidence.

I never said these kids were smart.

klaus: violet, what’s your father like?

violet: he’s kind of quiet, but he’s very kind. oh, I have a picture of him – well, sort of –

she pulls out from one of her own books a picture of lemony, from behind, sitting at his desk at his typewriter, absolutely no recognizable features present whatsoever

violet: he didn’t know aunt kit was taking the picture, otherwise he would’ve turned around.

violet: actually, even then he probably wouldn’t have? he insists he’s not very photogenic.

violet: what about your father?

klaus: i’ve never met him. he’s – my mother doesn’t talk about him much, but I got the impression that they divorced shortly after I was born.

violet: oh, gosh. i’m sorry, klaus.

violet: ….sometimes I think I get that impression too, about my parents.

klaus: i’m sorry too, violet.

and if this were a snicket novel, insert soft, gentle explanation about divorce and commiseration and finding kindred spirits in your friends and how sometimes love does not work out and the affects we don’t realize it has on the children who watch it happen or see the aftermath and are left with the gnawing wonder of what went wrong and how violet and klaus each wonder, a little, what the cause was, and it can be very lonely, at the end of the day, to know that even if you have one parent who loves you very much, there is someone out there who may not love you at all, and never got the chance to know you to love you, and an even deeper part of you that wonders – no matter how young you were – were you the cause of it?

violet: oh, but I – I have a picture of my mother, my aunt kit gave it to me – I have it in my suitcase

violet: /gets up to get the picture

klaus: I, I have a picture of my father, too, in fact I think it’s stuck in this book somewhere in the back, I didn’t want to forget it

and

as violet goes to sit back down with the picture of her mother, the half-picture of beatrice from her wedding day, klaus pulls out from the index the half-picture of lemony from his wedding day

and they are

STUNNED

to realize

this is, of course, the exact same picture.

there’s a lot of hugging and crying.

so they realize they’re siblings!!! and then decide try to figure out what the hell even happened with their parents, because now that they know they’re fucking related and still somehow wound up meeting each other they realize that there has to be some incredibly detailed story behind the reasoning for their parents splitting up and now they have not just proof but an actual opportunity to find out and maybe, just maybe, get their parents back together in the process!!! it worked once!!! it could work again, why not!!!!!

AND SO THEY DECIDE TO SWAP PLACES. (contrary to hallie having the idea, it occurs to them at the same time.)

meanwhile

for the past, say, YEAR, or so, bea has been seeing bertrand, a friend from her childhood (just narrowly managing to keep it from klaus BECAUSE it will involve A Conversation About Lemony and Commitment and Marriage and Things Not Working Out and Falling In Love With Someone Else and look bea is good at a lot of things but it’s a really heavy subject for her that even after eleven years she hasn’t quite figured out how to parse, so she’s really been putting off trying to explain all of that to klaus, in a case of her vastly underestimating her son [bea you see all the books he reads…….talk to your son]), and things are going well between them and they love each other a lot and!!! they decide to get married.

how do they meet up again??? bertrand winds up going to one of her plays completely on accident. he’s been on the other side of the country for years and years and he happens to go to napa and hears about this play happening and he’s like ‘well that sounds really neat!’ because bertrand had a short-lived theater career in high school and doesn’t act all that much anymore but appreciates a good play! who doesn’t appreciate a good play??

(bertrand played lieutenant frank cioffi in his senior year production of curtains to rave local newspaper reviews. bea, meanwhile, gave a stunning performance as carmen bernstein [esme wanted to be carmen so fucking bad and she’s never forgotten that bea got the role instead, and that would not even factor into this au even if esme WAS in this au] [esme was, instead, jessica cranshaw (if it was a small school she maybe doubled as bambi), ramona was niki harris, olivia played johnny harmon, olaf was…...daryl grady……..which pains me to write cause the guy I had a crush on in high school played daryl, josephine and ike played georgia hendricks and aaron fox, jacquelyn and gustav were head of stage crew, lemony supported them all from the audience – unless lemony was sasha????!!!!!!!! okay lemony was totally sasha.]) (wow I got unnecessarily invested in their high school drama club.) (IS THEODORA THE DRAMA ADVISOR?????? oh my god. oh my god she’d be so bad at it but so good. i’m dying.

theodora: snicket you need to FLOURISH your baton with MUCH MORE GUSTO

lemony: I am going to flourish this baton right up your –

bertrand: HE’S DECIDED AGAINST IT THANK YOU MISS MARKSON)

(hey you ever write a parallel that’s so good you hate it????? olivia is johnny. olaf is daryl.)

(I usually headcanon bertrand as two years older than bea and lemony but for the purposes of this au they’re all the same age – however bertrand joined drama club first, and I picture lemony as more of a band kid than a drama kid, they probably just pull him in for curtains.

was lemony drum major???? I want to say ‘hell no’ but I also want to say ‘most cryptic drum major ever, lead the most bizarre championship performance in the school’s history, somehow still won’) (I wonder what song it was to???? that right there is where my secondhand band knowledge conks out.) (but if I HAD to supply ‘bizarre, cryptic song for championships’ I would probably pick like, david lynch’s dark night of the soul or something, idk.) (but like, listen to it and just imagine it with marching band instruments……….i kind of like it. i’m kind of digging it.)

ANYWAY BERTRAND LOVES SEEING PLAYS and he goes to see it and he has NO IDEA bea is even in it and he’s like SUPER THROWN to see her but also???? really excited! it’s been eleven years!!! he can talk to her!!!! he finds her after the play and bea immediately drops whatever she was holding and is just like???? absolutely breathless to see him again (it’s been ELEVEN YEARS, cats. oh god no it’s been more like FIFTEEN YEARS since bertrand has seen bea cause they haven’t spoken since high school oh no that hurts even MORE). a giantass hug is involved. bea spins bertrand around. they make plans to see each other later. then they start hanging out, and they like, reconcile from their weird high school fallout and have a really neat relationship)

(so

the high school fallout

lemony and bea and bertrand were all delightful friends since they were kids (well, lemony and bea were, bertrand moved to town and joined their class when they were freshman in high school). they all had stupid crushes on each other, uggg. there was. an incident. at the end of their school escapades that resulted in a falling out with bertrand (maybe they had an idea of how they all felt and just couldn’t or weren’t ready to figure it out and it sort of. drove a wedge between them. not on purpose, it was just the way it happened to work out, with teenage emotions and refusing to talk about things and uncertainty. lemony+bea and bertrand went their separate ways after graduation, lemony and bea married right out of college, bertrand does his own thing, life goes on.) (maybe there was like some prom drama about who was gonna take who and who asked who first or something (at my junior prom, I was ready to kill the guy I asked who turned me down for that very reason). I mean that’s legit???? prom drama is incredibly legit. why is there so much drama at prom??????)

(honestly after going back and writing the production of curtains and remembering the (specifically romance-related) drama I witnessed happening among the drama club at my high school (I wasn’t in drama but I had a startling number of friends who were) i’m surprised they had the drama at prom and not in the middle of drama club, but i’m still going to stand by ‘prom drama.’)

(and I feel like it was prom drama of the type that’s like, low-key there and A Thing people think about but no one talks about or addresses so the whole night is real awkward and you worry something is gonna break out at any second but nothing does but you’re still obsessively on your toes about it. like, that simultaneously high-strung just-there high school romance drama angst that’s just this ever-present layer coloring everything that people say and do, hyped up specifically because it’s PROM. they probably all danced with each other and the dances were all cut short because of Feelings and Awkwardness and no one knew what to do, the whole damn night.)

and like, bertrand, going off to college and a little heartbroken but unwilling to try and do anything about it, is upset, but bertrand is also bertrand ‘sweetest man alive’ baudelaire, and honestly he wants them to be happy (bertrand is……..very non-confrontational……….and it is honestly his downfall, he likes to have fun and be nice and kind, and to acknowledge scary things is to actually deal with them and that scares bertrand so much, he buries a lot of things – so do bea and lemony, and in fact all of vfd, but in very different ways. bertrand has achieved a sort of Chill™ that bea and lemony just do not have) so he just goes on with his life, he does date other people but nothing ends in marriage, he becomes a librarian in maine and is actually only in california originally for a few months to help manage some of the collections at local libraries. then he runs into bea and he doesn’t like INTEND for a romance to happen (and neither does bea, which I also firmly stand behind for their canon romance too), he still planned to leave at the end of the few months, but it happens and bertrand feels a lot more secure in himself and his feelings about people than he did in high school and they really do love each other, a lot

oh he went to college for library science!!!! obviously lemony majored in lit and bea majored in theater and music)

(OH NO WAS BERTRAND AT THE WEDDING?????? oh no bertrand was not at the wedding. I mean he’s certainly invited but bertrand ‘sweetest man alive’ baudelaire is also bertrand ‘vaguely heartbroken, does not want to interfere, can actually honestly only take so much’ baudelaire and he says that he’ll be unable to make it. sigh. I want to say he sends a sweet wedding gift or even just flowers but man that makes me so sad to think about lemony and bea getting that on/around their wedding day and THEM being sad and i’m too sad now, bertrand does not send a gift. (he’s torn up about not sending a gift for some time. years later, walking through an antique shop, he is struck with the ‘Years Later But Still Feels Like It Just Happened And Oh Shit Why Did I Do That’ brand of Lingering Awful Anxiety™ about all that.)

HE DOES NOT KNOW ABOUT THE DIVORCE until he meets up with bea and she tells him.

bertrand: so how’s lemony????

beatrice: ahahhahahhahahhahhahahhahhahhahhahhahahaaaa!!!!!!

beatrice: ahahaha

beatrice: ahaha.

beatrice: …….oh you genuinely do not know oh shit i’m sorry

(I wanted so badly to put in my ‘bertrand and olivia were good cute friends and actually are penpals and like lemony and ramona’s ongoing card game they have an ongoing checkers game’ headcanon but it just. won’t. fit. in. here. cause why wouldn’t olivia have told him about the divorce???? I mean it’s bea’s thing to tell, NOT olivia’s, but to occasionally write to bertrand for YEARS and never mention she and ramona live with bea?????? I think that’s a little much.)

(does bertrand ever try and convince bea to reconcile with lemony???? I feel like at this point in his life he WOULD but bea would have very early on and very firmly vetoed that. and bertrand wouldn’t necessarily be happy about it but respects her wishes. not because he wants bea all to himself. but because bertrand is also quite frankly still. a little nervous re: navigating relationships. like he’s for sure A LOT BETTER at it now but like!!!! especially with lemony like bertrand is TERRIFIED of seeing lemony again. he really is. I think he thinks lemony blames him for stuff even though lemony does not. and I don’t want it to seem like bertrand’s……….just sort of swooping in and taking bea and not letting her talk to lemony????? cause it’s not that, it’s not that at all

they do really love each other

and just because bertrand’s grown as a person doesn’t mean he’s PERFECT

and bea certainly Does Not want to talk to lemony

it’s just, nick never mentions to meredith that hallie’s a twin and meredith HATES hallie and annie anyway, but bertrand does not hate kids and I just wonder, has bea told him about violet???????? like why wouldn’t she????????

so I mean yeah they probably have talked about it, and probably still came to the same conclusion, bea Does Not want to talk to lemony either, just, not right now, and yeah bertrand isn’t delighted about it but he’s like ‘alright, okay.’ because he still understands her reasoning and for all his talk he really doesn’t want to talk to lemony either

but it’s, I think it’s a thing, in the back of their minds, a worry that hits them sometimes, have they done something wrong, trying to forget)

(and this is why planning takes so much time because I always have so many stupid questions about characters)

(when bea and lemony were young and in college and extraordinarily drunk they would come up with new titles for bertrand, because they forgot they were trying not to talk about him

beatrice: bertrand ‘best hair this side of the mississippi’ baudelaire

lemony: bertrand ‘smooth hands’ baudelaire

beatrice: bertrand –

beatrice: wait do you mean like, his legit hands or like what he DOES with his hands

lemony, trying very hard not to think about Doing Things with Hands: ……..both

lemony: I definitely mean both

beatrice: good, I agree

beatrice: bertrand ‘i WILL dance the charleston and no one will stop me and I do not care’ baudelaire

lemony: bertrand ‘softest reading voice’ baudelaire

lemony: no no, wait, bertrand ‘BEST reading voice’ baudelaire, remember when he read ee cummings

beatrice: bertrand ‘i read lord of the flies and cried at the end’ baudelaire

lemony: oh bea are you complimenting him or being mean

beatrice: lemony I read lord of the flies and threw it out the fucking window when that kid killed piggy

beatrice: that was a compliment)

(ee cummings is because I have a scene in another fic where bertrand reads ‘maggie and milly and molly and may’ to beatrice and lemony and gosh…..i hope I get to use it at some point, it was a beautiful scene)

(they probably stop talking about bertrand like, sophomore year of college, idk, it just gets too hard and they become really miserable drunk nineteen-year-olds about it, and that’s not cool) (AT LEAST THEY HAVE THE WHEREWITHAL TO DO THAT)

ANYWAY, back to violet and klaus, who are still at camp and have decided to switch places!

ultimately, violet (like hallie) is supposed to find out how bea and lemony got together, and klaus (like annie) is supposed to find out why they broke up

violet cuts her hair (she’s a little bummed because she likes her hair but at least it won’t get in her way when inventing) and pierces klaus’s ears (klaus is so UP FOR THIS he’s very excited, also he keeps himself calm during it by telling violet the history of ear piercing) (these kids are either canonically very good at rationalizing or it’s just me radically projecting again…..or both), klaus practices wandering around without glasses (he bumps into EVERYTHING), violet practices how to fucking wear glasses and not die (she falls over EVERYTHING), of course violet already has an appreciation for books but she has to get the definition thing down (and growing up with lemony ‘a phrase which here means’ snicket left her with a pretty unorthodox idea of word meanings sometimes

klaus: so an optimist is someone who sees a positive side in any situation, like –

violet: say, if their arm was bit off by an alligator, a pessimist would say, “ahh! my arm!” and an optimist would say, “well, this isn’t too bad, no one will wonder if i’m right or left handed now.”

klaus: ……….what sort of person is our father

violet: he’s very specific about words.)

klaus has to figure out?????? how to invent on the fly????? (he’s seen beatrice macgyver a million things together but he’s still not sure how she does it) and the two of them teach each other about their lives, beatrice and lemony, ramona and olivia and kit and dewey and bernadette

violet: bernadette is really delightful, but you need to watch out for her

klaus: well, she is six years old –

violet: no, I mean, she can appear at a moment’s notice, and I don’t know who taught her how to pick locks, because I certainly didn’t and father can’t pick locks, but she can do it in under seven seconds.

(jacques taught her how to pick locks (he also taught violet). I don’t know where vfd fits into all this or if it even does in this fanfic but like, just try and tell me these guys don’t still act like absurd spies in any universe anyway.) (also I think lockpicking is, in general, a handy life skill, even if you aren’t living the absurd spy life.)

klaus: mother is, um

klaus: a little embarrassing

violet: how so?

klaus: she once scaled a ten foot wall because I forgot my lunch.

(ramona: hey so why did becoming a parent rob you of your top-notch secrecy skills?

[not necessarily, though, I mean, she does a great job scaling the ten-foot wall in complete secrecy. bea just, has a lot of love for her son, and is VERY OBVIOUS ABOUT IT, is the thing]

beatrice: ramona have you SEEN my son

beatrice: I will take a BULLET for him

beatrice: preferably in a non-critical area so we can hang out afterwards.

beatrice: but if I have to embarrass the shit out of him to make sure he eats, I WILL)

violet: father is the same way, a little. he keeps crying on the first day of school and I don’t have the heart to break it to him that I might be too old for that.

klaus: mother calls encouraging phrases from the car, which I think she does to prevent me from walking into school too fast.

violet: you know, they really sound like they were made for each other.

(lemony and bea, like, separately, are such legit disaster parents and I love them, they love their kids so damn much.)

the last day of camp comes, and it is time for them to officially swap places – violet goes to beatrice, klaus goes to lemony!

klaus recites book themes to himself the whole plane ride to england to keep himself calm because he’s trying not to think about how worried and excited he is!!! he’s going to meet his father for the first time!! truth be told, he knows pretty much nothing about lemony, even after talking to violet!!! IT’S A LOT FOR ANY KID TO TAKE IN, to suddenly think ‘yeah this was a good plan – oh fuck’

anyway, he meets kit at the airport, because kit is there to pick up violet. (kit and violet do not have a secret handshake. they have, of course, dart-throwing contests. of course that doesn’t make sense in an airport, but whatever. that’s their thing.)

why does kit pick klaus up at the airport instead of lemony??? I mean kit is in martin’s role but she’s NOT martin, you know, she’s lemony’s sister and definitely does not wait on him, but she does drop violet off at camp anyway, although in the movie that’s to prevent elizabeth (and nick) from showing up until the kids switch for Maximum Emotional Impact, but like lemony is obviously not THAT fucking busy he can’t pick up his own daughter

I had the thought that like kit is maybe his manager (on the side, otherwise she has….god some other job)??? does that work for a writer???? i’m a writer and I don’t even know. whatever. and kit maybe scheduled a reading that day by accident months in advance and couldn’t change it, or it runs long, so she has to get violet (klaus) from the airport

(moxie is still his editor, only she lives way out of town and they send angry emails to each other all the time about his work)

also ties in with hallie’s scene where she looks at elizabeth’s vanity and says she’s super cool about the wedding dresses cause I love that scene a LOT and I want klaus to think his stupid dad’s cool!!!

kit: violet, I am all for the beginning of your teenage rebellion with this new hairstyle but I should inform you that your father may just die.

klaus: you think he won’t like it??

[read: YOU THINK HE WON’T LIKE ME]

kit: he’ll probably come around to it. he’s still at his reading, do you want to surprise him?

klaus: !!!!!!

klaus: yes!

the reading is huge. I have no damn idea what lemony writes in this au, definitely not danhan’s stuff cause it’s not his vibe, but he still writes the picture books (although there are YEARS between them irl he wrote the composer is dead and the dark for bernadette before she became, in her words, Too Old For That Sort of Thing although she still secretly really likes them and reads the dark every night before she goes to bed. bernadette, in contrast to babybea, is fucking terrified of the dark but tries to like rationalize it out by thinking through the science of light or something, and then by just rereading the dark), oh he probably like, okay so he can’t just write asoue but he probably writes some other great children’s book series with the same sort of writing style and moral discussion, and the picture books

and violet told klaus he wrote stuff and bea like…..knows he does and refuses to talk about it but reads ramona’s copies in the middle of the night (and then has to stop doing that cause it bums her out too much), but klaus has no idea about it or how good it is and he’s so impressed, sitting at the back of this giant giant theater, and klaus loves books, he loves them with all his heart, and to sit there and see his father, for the first time in his whole life, doing something that klaus thinks is so incredibly cool

klaus: wow.

okay, so, the damn relief and happiness on lemony’s face when he sees kit and klaus

has he been imagining terrible airplane accidents for the past week? weeks? MONTHS??? yes he has.

he sees them once he gets offstage and immediately runs at this child (or, at least, definitely fastwalks.) and sweeps klaus up into this giant giant hug

klaus is!!! overwhelmed by the amount of sheer unadulterated love in this hug oh no i’m crying

putting aside that he’s pretending to be violet, this is the first time he gets a hug from his father and even if lemony thinks he’s violet klaus is still the one getting the hug and it’s just, a lot, man, it’s a lot, that scene in the movie where elizabeth hugs hallie is exactly the vibe right here god it’s so fucking sweet

lemony: oh, goodness – what happened to your hair?

klaus: I – I cut it. do you –

lemony is in the process of remembering that scissors and haircuts exist, he’s a little blindsided here

lemony: no, no – haircuts are things that happen, at one time or another, to all of us.

lemony: i’m just so happy that you’re back.

he just. hugs klaus again. god I can’t handle how much lemony loves his kids. klaus is really emotional and I’M really emotional I have to move on

on the ride home (kit is still driving)

lemony: so how was it at camp?

klaus: /frantically thinking of how he’s going to pull off something violet would say now that he’s HERE and has to act like her and decides to just be honest and hope it comes out okay

klaus: I had a lot of fun; the outdoors are incredibly pulchritudinous.

lemony: /thoroughly convinced that the outdoors has finally instilled violet with a greater poetic sense

I NEVER SAID THEIR PARENTS WERE SMART EITHER

do you know how wild the plot of this movie really is, when you get down to it, parents not recognizing their kids wtf have I done

violet can act pretty passably as klaus, but klaus, even employing beatrice’s acting techniques, just can’t act. but the one who finds him out is bernadette, like half an hour after he gets home.

[you can tell what scenes originally started this outline because they’re actually written like scenes, this was one of them]

[bernadette stares at klaus with wide, curious eyes over the top of her book. “you’re not violet,” she says.

the bottom of klaus’s stomach drops clear out. “what?”

“violet doesn’t squint when she’s confused,” bernadette says. “she frowns and puts her hair up. and it’s something she’s used to doing, so even if her hair was cut, she’d still reach for a ribbon, out of habit. you’re klaus. shouldn’t you have glasses? mother says aunt beatrice wore glasses.”

“how – how did you know about me?”

bernadette rolls her eyes. “i know everything,” she says loftily, for a six year old. “i can read, after all.”]

bernadette is the best kid. so I love babybea so much but babybea in canon is like…..still very on point but very quiet about it, because she’s grown up with really so little interaction with people????? she’s like a really subdued kid because she’s had to be so independent and do so many things herself. and she’s got her firm, almost unshakable optimism. so bernadette is still very quick and clever but a LOT more precocious about it and pretty boisterous for six years old and just. even more like kit than babybea is. her optimism is a little more…..sharp in this. I don’t think she understands embarrassment, as a thing that people experience, because she sure doesn’t. she’s just like, ‘well why don’t you just try again??????’ and it’s so great to see that inherent commitment to existence in a six year old

(an important sidenote from my bernadette headcanon list, though, is that she really does just read everything. she reads cereal boxes and magazines and reports and all the papers on lemony’s desk and really just absolutely anything she can get her hands on, and she’s easily bored so she goes looking for stuff sometimes and she’s good at putting things together, so that’s how she knows about klaus.)

[“i’m not gonna tell anybody,” she says. “i wanna see what happens. uncle lemony’s kind of lonely, you know? and aunt beatrice – when they talk about her – always sounded really nice.”]

bernadette makes it her MISSION to help klaus act more like violet and cover for him as much as she can

bernadette: you need to walk different

bernadette: and hold yourself a little taller

bernadette: here, keep this wrench in your pocket, violet likes wrenches

bernadette: and this ribbon!!! she didn’t give you any????

bernadette: oh, make sure you stare off into the distance while eating and think about machines or something

klaus: how do you notice all these things???

bernadette: ?????? doesn’t everybody?????? she’s your sister, you two didn’t follow each other around to try and pin down how you act????

klaus: …..do you do that, bernadette

bernadette: regularly. I can impersonate anyone’s footsteps. except my mother’s, because I think she keeps wearing different shoes on purpose. i’ll show you sometime.

so, armed with This Random Wrench and a lot of acting details that he can’t process very well, klaus HANGS OUT WITH LEMONY

so klaus spends a lot of time in the library in lemony’s house (which also doubles as lemony’s office, it’s big enough that he and violet can take separate corners and know each other’s there but not run into each other if they don’t want to (especially good for klaus pretending to be violet because no one has to see him TOTALLY FAIL AT INVENTING)), and it has so many books and klaus is so thrilled

klaus has to try and bring up bea and find out how they met, only, DISCREETLY

[gosh this one is a lot harder without “so doesn’t designing all those wedding dresses make you think about getting married again?”, especially because the truly spectacular “f word” line doesn’t make sense with lemony but what can you do]

he probably goes up to lemony while lemony’s at his desk because klaus figures, the easiest way could be to relate to something on the desk

AS purposeful narrative coincidence LUCK WOULD HAVE IT lemony is looking for something in his desk and you know lemony keeps the most inconsequential things and has accidentally dug out his plaque for ‘one semester of cheerleader participation’

klaus, immediately thrown by this news: you were a cheerleader?

lemony: mm? oh, my, I forgot about that.

he smiles at the plaque and dusts it off and my heart is m e l t i n g

lemony: yes, in high school. I wasn’t the only boy on the team, as a matter of fact. a – a friend of mine did it with me.

klaus: why were you on the cheerleading squad?

lemony, trapped in this conversation now: well – your mother was on the soccer team. I was not what you would call athletically inclined at the time, so I joined to support her.

klaus: !!!!!!!

klaus: my – my mother?

this was a fact he did not know about beatrice, as a matter of fact

lemony, realizing that children are going to be curious about their parents and, well, okay, it’s been eleven years, I probably won’t see beatrice again (ahahahahaha.), and my child deserves to know: yes. she was very good at soccer, among other talents, although she didn’t last very long in her soccer career.

klaus: why not?

[if this man was PAYING ATTENTION he would have noticed for sure that klaus is much more straightforward than violet.]

lemony, remembering that time beatrice launched herself across the soccer field and accidentally tackled the assistant coach and dragged him through the mud: she and the coach disagreed on some of the physical aspects of the game.

klaus, dying to hear what lemony’s going to say: what was she like?

lemony, immediately remembering the details of their divorce but also a series of Shenanigans from their school days that he should never repeat to anyone, then resolving to be kind about it: very charming and resourceful.

lemony: she had a great deal of verve.

lemony: I see a lot of it in you.

klaus is touched, I’M touched, god fucking dammit

klaus resolves to leave it there and decides to dig around lemony’s desk later for other things about bea and lemony when lemony isn’t looking

which he promptly does, that night.

klaus sees his typewriter and pictures of kit and jacques and there’s probably one of ramona (in a drawer) (sorry, ramona.) and in a secret compartment in the desk is a pic of bea (maybe one of bertrand too?) (definitely one of bertrand too) and some letters from bea (klaus recognizes her handwriting)

(watch it be something like, some stupid candygram she sent him for valentine’s day that says dear lemony, [the content of this candygram has been censored by the school administration] love bea!!!!!) (bea gets detention for a week for the content of the candygram.) (the second candygram gets through but it’s only because bea writes it so thoroughly in code that the school administration, at a passing glance, cannot see how raunchy it is. but also very heartfelt. it is genuinely heartfelt.) (so of course he has some from bertrand too. because bertrand sent everyone a candygram. they’re all so friendly but so sweet and so cute and bertrand’s just breaking my heart in this whole fic I love him so much) (they’re stuff like, i’m so happy we’re friends! happy valentine’s day! i made sure this candygram doesn’t have anything that will conflict with your peanut allergy! like some fucking NERD and i’m SOBBING) (because you know bertrand was on student council and helped with the candygrams, bea and lemony were definitely not on student council)

(bea: what gets me is that they still sent it!! they censored my loving sonnet about your ass but they still sent it!!!!!!

bertrand: I guess nothing stops true love?

lemony: or, nothing stops beatrice mariner. [you’d have to kill me before I conceded to ‘beatrice kornbluth.’ anyway one of kornbluth’s pen names was mariner so that’s my compromise.])

klaus thinks the candygrams are so fucking embarrassing and also had no idea his mother was capable of such language but then again, no, she is, but he also thinks they’re charming and evidence that lemony still has feelings for beatrice, if he kept them!!

he’s, intrigued, a little concerned, but not very worried about this mysterious picture of a strange man and his own candygrams, although klaus concedes they too are very sweet.

MEANWHILE, back in california

bea is so so so so so excited to pick up klaus (not knowing it’s violet) from the airport, like she manages to sit still for most of the wait but in the last half hour she just sort of bounces around the airport and buys a series of irritating, tasteless teas (“fuck this tea is so bland yes i’m ordering another one, ramona, don’t judge me”) and reads the same newspaper over and over again and when the flight comes in she’s ECSTATIC, MY GIRL IS BOUNCING ALL OVER THE PLACE

she’s the kind of like……...vaguely silly but a little (a lot) overprotective (?) parent

like beatrice is the one SHOUTING AT THE TOP OF HER LUNGS WHEN SHE SEES HER KID CAUSE SHE’S SO THRILLED, she’s just very vocal about how much she loves….

[I actually rewrote some of bea in this (or, changed the amount of capitals I had her using) because, like, bea is delightful and charming and very smooth but she’s also got such passion for life, she loves to be delighted and she loves to laugh, and she’s so smooth and sarcastic but like!!!! I love beatrice when she’s having a good time, but I got worried that she was leaning too silly in this which. irritated me.

like, in canon I feel like she is incredibly mischievous but once she gets married and has kids, she’s still very on point and loves her kids very openly but she becomes a lot more straight-laced because she’s so intent to protect them, so much so that I think she loses a little of that mischievousness. but considering the fluctuating capacity of vfd vibes in this au, I think she is a little more…….loose in this. the other thing about bea is that her veneer of perfection is her best acting job of all time, and divorcing lemony and being a single mother and raising klaus puts a big dent in that and makes her even more determined to try and wring as much joy out of life as she can without letting people know how much she has to deal with]

violet, upon getting off the plane and seeing beatrice: oh.

beatrice: look at youuuuuuuuuu LOOK AT YOU!!! you’ve got everything??? all your limbs???? nothing broken????

she says all this while like running straight at violet and patting her down and then giving her the biggest hug of all time. violet is engulfed in this hug and!!! she thought her father gave tight hugs but this is something else

I think lemony puts a lot of warmth in his hugs but beatrice puts this endless amount of joy, along with love, into her hugs, and violet’s life up until this point has been very low-key and surrounded by adults who excel at deadpanning their dialogue so this is!!! very strange but very exciting!!! because violet herself also has this very bright enthusiasm that other people in her family don’t have the same way she does so as much as it’s so different to meet beatrice it’s really cool!!!!!

[for the record, bertrand’s hugs exude safety]

re: pierced ears

beatrice: oh, ramona and olivia are gonna be real upset.

beatrice: they definitely wanted to be involved in your first rebellious teenager act.

beatrice: then again, so did I??

violet: doesn’t that defeat the purpose of a rebellious act?

beatrice, going in for a side-hug: …...i missed that snark so much

does beatrice have a dog???? she’s really not a dog person. neither are ramona and olivia (dogs scare olivia. in fact, most things scare olivia. the toaster scares olivia. she’s so nervous and I love her.) (it’s less of a josephine fear and more of a ‘please leave me alone!!!’ sort of startled fear, is how I see it)

if there is a pet, ramona and olivia have a cat that olivia named annabelle, and she’s a sweet, all-white cat who loves cuddles. she does not even care that violet isn’t klaus. she’s just like, ‘this person has arms!! this person can cuddle.’ annabelle is the best, most chill cat. (although I headcanon that bea is allergic to cats – but that was just cause I was allergic to cats, and now that i’m not allergic to cats????? GUESS IT’S FREE REIN NOW) (anyway the cat is still ramona and olivia’s.)

so bea has to introduce klaus (violet!) to bertrand, and, oh, bea

she really has been putting this conversation off for quite some time, and she decides to just, go for it, as she’s driving violet home

beatrice: klaus, there’s, there’s someone i’d like you to meet

violet: who?

beatrice: an old friend of mine. we’ve been talking recently, and he means a great deal to me, and if you don’t like him, then that’ll be it, but – I really want him to be a part of our lives, klaus. I know it’s a big change, but I’d like you to give him a chance.

violet is REALLY, REALLY THROWN HERE because she and klaus are supposed to get their parents back together!!! this isn’t supposed to happen!!! this is supposed to be a happy ending without this NEW CHALLENGER (UNACCEPTED!!!!), how is she supposed to ask about lemony now???????

violet: oh, um

violet: well, I would like to meet him

she resolves to be HARD AND UNCOMPROMISING when she meets bertrand, but, well, then she meets bertrand fucking baudelaire. bertrand ‘sweetest man alive’ baudelaire. bertrand ‘just desperately wants to make a good impression on his fiance’s son’ baudelaire. god I love him. what a guy.

especially because bertrand really does just want to make a good impression, and he knows klaus is into geography right now so he brings this absolutely impressive atlas as a gift

not as an attempt to bribe klaus into liking him, but to show that he’s supportive of his interests!!!!

bertrand, sweetest man alive, shaking violet’s hand: i’m so excited to finally meet you!!

violet, blindsided by the sweetest man alive: oh, thank – thank you. it’s very nice to meet you too.

bertrand: I heard you were into geography, so I brought this atlas for you! I hope it’s alright.

violet, holding the biggest, heaviest atlas she’s ever seen in her life: oh. that’s very kind of you.

they spend some time looking through it because it has so many cool details

he stays for a while and then bows out gracefully because he cares so much, hello i’m dying, and then beatrice asks violet what she thought

violet: I –

violet: I liked him a lot.

beatrice: are you sure? because I swear, it’s fine, klaus, if you’re uncomfortable, it’s absolutely okay, it’s –

violet: no no! it’s fine!

[read: IT’S NOT FINE]

violet: I have this….atlas, now.

beatrice: you could kill a man with that.

violet: probably! I probably could.

beatrice: ….so it’s okay?

violet: ….it’s okay, mother.

[read: IT’S NOT OKAY BUT WHAT ELSE CAN SHE SAY HERE] [hey you know when you take out how much of an awful person meredith is you are left with a lot less humor in this situation.]

beatrice: I don’t know what I did to deserve a child like you, klaus.

cue good, squishy hug.

[personally I cannot fathom marrying someone else and having twins and raising one of them and not trying to have a relationship with your other child because you didn’t want to work things out with first spouse, but I never said I myself was smart either, in what I chose to write (I NEVER SAID I TOOK THE EASY WAY OUT)

anyway, I do think when bea says that, she thinks about it for a second

that (as far as she knows) this is klaus, she’s known him his whole life, and she had so little time with violet and maybe she would be sweet and clever too and she doesn’t know

she doesn’t know!!!!!!!

and it tears her apart for a split second that she doesn’t have everything and before she can let it eat her alive she shoves it down and forgets about it like she does with everything else and just, moves on] [time is a scary thing – if this much time has passed, what can you do? do they care? is it easier to do nothing or does that hurt more? does it even matter when both parents know their kids don’t know about their sibling or their other parent (or as far as they know at this moment)??? does that possibly make it even a little easier????] [anyway.]

because of bertrand – or, not necessarily bertrand, but more, ‘wedding shenanigans,’ but also, yeah, bertrand – violet also spends comparatively little time with beatrice

she wants to dislike him on principle, but can’t because he’s just???? so nice!!!! he talks seriously to her about her parents and about her (well, klaus) and really wants to get to know her (well, klaus) violet is begrudgingly impressed. violet thinks klaus would be really impressed too. but she’s real worried about what means for lemony and beatrice

especially since they did this not only to get their parents back together but to spend time with the opposite parent, like!!! violet has spent practically zero (0) time with bea to get to know her!!!!

so she holds off for a little bit and just genuinely hopes bertrand will somehow be less nice

this is hard, when bertrand helps bea make dinner ever night (klaus was VERY EXPLICIT that beatrice allows NO ONE in the kitchen when she’s cooking so there’s that) and he talks so damn OPENLY to violet about being a presence in her life

bertrand: klaus, I hope you don’t think i’m intruding in your life.

violet: I understand where you’re coming from when you say that but remarriage is in fact a part of life that occurs with some frequency.

[not only death and taxes, but haircuts and remarriage….]

violet: mother said you were an old friend, though?

bertrand: yes, we went to school together.

violet: if you don’t think it’s too rude of a question

violet: you strike me as the type of person who would have had a high school sweetheart and I am perhaps a little concerned that you didn’t marry my mother earlier.

inside, violet is cringing but it’s a very klaus line.

bertrand: !

bertrand: oh, well, we didn’t date each other in high school.

violet: ! you didn’t?

bertrand: no, there was –

bertrand has been. avoiding these feelings for some time. but he’s so struck by them that he has NO poker face in this situation

bertrand: – it just didn’t work out at the time, that’s all.

but fuck violet is absolutely stunned by that look on his face

she’s never seen someone look so heartbroken before and she is, concerned, but that’s mostly ignored in favor of the sheer stress of the situation

and violet does actually get kind of angry!! about bertrand being such a good person!! she starts to get really frustrated!!! like I picture this happening over, maybe a week

she hates that she can’t tie her hair back and her thoughts are all jumbled and that she has to wear glasses and she misses her dad and she loves beatrice a lot but NOTHING IS WORKING OUT LIKE SHE WANTED IT TO

and she has to wear klaus’s glasses and keeps taking them off when she’s sure no one’s looking to rub her eyes man I want to give this kid a hug

but she also wants to make her mom happy!!! fuck this is a mess

violet: he’s been – a lot kinder than I thought he would be.

beatrice: yeah, he has that effect on people.

beatrice: when we were in high school, we called him “bertrand ‘sweetest man alive’ baudelaire.”

beatrice is viscerally reminded of Being Drunk In College and tries to shrug it off

however, violet, growing up with two detail-oriented snickets, does not miss a single thing

violet: we?

beatrice: oh, you know – nicknames, nicknames stick, klaus, everybody calls everybody things!!

violet: it just sounded as if you were….

violet: /casts around for the correct grammatical term, she’s committed, but comes up with nothing because hell even I don’t know, apologies to my grammar professor from college

violet: ….using ‘we’ to mean just you and someone else and not necessarily lots of people.

beatrice is actually vaguely suspicious to hear Less Technical Grammar but chalks it up to the situation

beatrice: well, I mean, we had friends, of course – ramona and olivia!! that’s!! that’s who i’m talking about!! that’s all!!

violet remembers that ramona gave klaus his half of the wedding picture, and klaus told her what ramona said, that ramona didn’t like lemony’s hair at the time, and violet’s done the math, she knows how old lemony and bea are and that she and klaus were born not long after they left college, and with this sudden but persistent reluctance to talk about An Additional Person from high school from both bea and bertrand, violet is terribly suspicious that there could, in fact, be much more to this than she initially thought

beatrice: don’t forget, we start looking at hotels for wedding reception venues this week, okay?

violet: okay.

so, that night, violet, now alerted to the possibility that there could be a connection between bertrand and her father, and also DESPERATELY HOPING THERE IS ANYWAY BECAUSE THAT WOULD CAUSE HER SO MUCH LESS STRESS, goes digging

she grew up with bernadette for the past six years (and has also seen lemony create giant information webs to map out books), VIOLET KNOWS HOW TO GET INFORMATION AND PUT IT TOGETHER

she starts looking for yearbooks – they all went to the same school, for years, they have to be somewhere, but violet can’t find anything in the library, or ramona’s studio, or olivia’s office, or beatrice’s hiding place (the kitchen), and then looks through their desks for papers or plaques or photographs or anything that could give her a hint (nope)

if there is one thing she’s learned from bernadette, but also her father, it’s that the best place to hide something is usually in plain sight, which leads violet back to the library, pulling out boring-looking books to see if anything is stored behind them or in them (still nope)

this leads to violet CLIMBING THE BOOKCASES to reach the top shelf because adults are taller than her and put things on high shelves

and lo and behold, there it is, the senior year yearbook.

violet has a HEART-STOPPING MOMENT in the downward climb (which she’s doing one-handed anyway) where she almost steps on annabelle who she hadn’t realized was sleeping on a shelf and violet is TERRIFIED but annabelle, chillest cat in the world™, just yawns at her and picks a different shelf

annabelle is no sammy.

so, curled up in a library chair, violet finds not only pictures of beatrice and bertrand and lemony in the yearbook, but also a giant section of papers that fold out from the back cover where apparently lemony had more than the average length of a yearbook comment to say to her

violet, vaguely skimming this hardcore romantic comment, incredibly used to her father’s verbosity: yes that sounds about right.

and she finds a (significantly smaller but still lengthy and painfully heartfelt) signature from bertrand nearby, that definitely reads as a guy in love

but she’s still not sure how they feel about each other now, like a few yearbook signatures are no indication of how a person feels over eleven years later, so she’s still nervous about this and decides to sleep on it

this takes the whole night, violet is exhausted in the morning

now re: chessy unpacking hallie’s (annie’s) suitcase in the movie, it’s not that ramona did the same, but when doing the laundry earlier she did notice this weird amount of ribbons stuck in the lint filter/in pockets/pant legs/sleeves

and she barely even thinks anything of it at first and asks olivia and olivia has no clue and she’s not asking beatrice because beatrice has so much on her mind and ramona’s like ‘….hmmm,’ and goes to talk to klaus (violet)

ramona: hey klaus, I keep finding ribbons everywhere and I just wondered –

violet, in the process of running her hand through her hair cause she’s tired and processing a lot and misses being able to tie it: /JUMPS

violet: oh

violet: bookmarks, i’ve been using them as bookmarks

[actually violet has a million ribbons because lemony never wanted her to be without one, and it was so natural for violet to bring them with her she just legit forgot she wasn’t supposed to have them, like hallie with cuppy]

ramona, vaguely concerned: ….yeah, your mother used to do that

ramona: anything wrong with your hair?

violet: oh, no, not at all!

ramona: everything….going okay?

violet: yes, absolutely!

[the thing about violet acting as klaus though is that she can get like his speech patterns down but her own natural cheeriness still shows through in the places where klaus is in general quieter]

this is gonna get discussed right after this but ramona knows violet ties her hair up to focus because lemony told her in a letter, years ago

so ramona frowns and walks over to her and ties her bangs back with one of the ribbons, and violet just so visibly relaxes

ramona, incredibly emotional: oh

ramona: violet?

violet: ….yes.

ramona: so I can’t necessarily abide by breaking up a marriage but HECK YEAH i’m down for helping you reunite them. beatrice got me in the divorce and it’s very irritating just writing to lemony, which he actually hasn’t done for a while, now that I think about it.

violet: why don’t you just visit him? i’m sure he’d love to see you.

ramona: he makes me send the letters to a post office box. I do not know that man’s address.

violet: ……...that sounds about right.

(bea still does not find out until the hotel shenanigans, though.)

(I love ‘beatrice got me in the divorce’ like that’s fucking hilarious, cause I picture ramona as lemony and bea’s best friend so when they aren’t together it’s like…...well, what happens to ramona???? WHO DOES RAMONA HANG OUT WITH?? WHO GETS CUSTODY OF RAMONA)

(but also like, wtf lemony and ramona write to each other and bea never finds out???? I mean ramona was their best friend so like yes I think they do keep in contact but then does ramona never tell lemony about klaus????? and for them to write to each other and ramona to get these letters and BEA IS IN THE SAME HOUSE??????? I can’t tell if this is just angsty or poor thinking through on my part

but like ramona has to know for the reveal scene here to work out right, otherwise she’d never guess specifically violet

unless I rewrite the scene, but? nope. i’m committed to this ribbon reveal. I like it a lot. fuck it.

THIS WAS WHY I TOOK OUT BERTRAND AND OLIVIA AS CUTE PEN PALS auuuuuggggggg

I don’t know I mean. it is weird and stretching this (already shenanigans-filled) fic a little but. I don’t think it’s the WORST illogical thing I can stick in here. and they are friends, they can write to each other, just, yeah, probably not a lot and they actually probably don’t talk about the kids a lot, cause then lemony would know about both kids and since r wouldn’t tell bea she was writing to lemony bea wouldn’t know anything at all about violet and THAT’S what’s not good (although r telling lemony about klaus is cute i’m gonna have to nix it here. no can do.), so yeah r probs never brings up klaus and lemony rarely brings up violet, he probably only mentions the ribbon thing back when she was really really young because of how much it reminded him of bea and lemony was One Sad Man in his twenties trying to cope with the emotional reality of raising a child that reminded him of his wife and needed to tell someone

that is a lot of weight on ramona though and she doesn’t say anything but lemony apologizes for bringing it up in the next letter anyway and actually after that they probably talk a lot less cause it’s hard on both of them)

(writing is hard! writing is hard.)

ramona: so what’s your plan now?

violet: first, I have to make a phone call.

VIOLET CALLS KLAUS, keeping in mind the concept of time zones a little bit better than hallie and annie

violet: so, it turns out that mother is engaged????

klaus: engaged????? to who?????

violet: this man named bertrand, and, honestly, klaus, he’s such a nice person, he brought me, well he brought you, an atlas –

klaus: oh. that is very nice.

violet: it’s the sort of atlas you could probably use to incapacitate a reasonably-sized adult.

klaus: wow.

violet: and mother said that apparently she knew him when she was younger, and they get along so well, but –

klaus, remembering the picture he found with the extra candygrams: wait

klaus: is he sort of tall, and thin, and blonde

klaus: and sort of, idly optimistic

violet: yes! although I would say more….calmly steadfast

klaus: hmmm

klaus, trying to describe bertrand’s facial expression in this picture: disarmingly kind?

violet: humorously honest?

klaus: I think father has a picture of him in his desk!

violet: !!!!

[myth: confirmed!]

klaus: and some notes from high school from mother and him!

violet: !!! klaus, based on some other things i’ve found, I think all of them might have had feelings for each other.

klaus: !! that makes a considerable amount of sense here. if they all still do, that could make this much easier.

violet: but we won’t know for sure unless –

bernadette: who are you two talking about???

klaus: BERNADETTE

violet: bernadette, are you on the extension again

bernadette: well why wouldn’t I be?

bernadette: it sounds like you guys are talking about bertrand.

violet: how do you know who bertrand is?

bernadette: dad talks about him all the time???

bernadette: well, not when uncle lemony’s around

bernadette: he sent dad that book of poetry that mom immediately burned

bernadette: the elephant guy?

violet: …….oh, now that you mention it! that’s right!

klaus: wait why did your mother burn the book

violet: aunt kit has very little patience for certain poetry.

klaus: she doesn’t like john godfrey saxe??

violet: it’s a big deal, it’s best not to get into it.

violet: look, I think what we need to do is get everyone together and sort this all out.

violet: we’re scouting hotels this week for the reception, you can come here and meet up with us at one of them!

MEANWHILE, kit finds bernadette on the extension, for an honestly longer than usual length of time (bernadette does eavesdrop regularly), and also klaus on the phone in general (and violet rarely uses the phone, like, as a phone. usually she’s taking the phone apart), and really, nothing gets past kit fucking snicket. (you know kit denouement does have a great fucking ring to it, but as I said before, just try and tell me she didn’t insist on keeping her maiden name when she got married.)

so she goes and finds klaus and hears the end of the above conversation and is like ‘oh shit, they totally switched on lemony and bea, what badass kids’

[what if she tries to corner bernadette first

kit: bernadette, I didn’t know you knew anyone to call on the phone.

bernadette, without missing a fucking beat: I called the international operator to ask about time zones, but she caught me up in a conversation about soap operas and whether or not their use of sudden death is considered theatrically cathartic or not.

bernadette: I told her it happens way too often for it to be cathartic.

kit is too impressed to counter her. kit loves her daughter so fucking much.]

so then she sort of shows up in klaus’s doorway when he goes to leave the room after the phone call, arms crossed over her chest

kit: is there something you’d like to talk about?

kit can be outrageously intimidating but kit is also, actually, a pretty good parent

kit, significantly more gently: just between you and me, klaus.

klaus: …..maybe.

kit: come on, let’s go for a walk. you can tell me all about it.

klaus: it’s a long story.

kit: well, good, I like long stories.

klaus: are you going to tell father?

kit: don’t you think you should tell him?

klaus: do you think he’ll be upset?

kit: oh, not at all. more with himself than you, anyway. once, violet was responsible for wiping out the electricity of the whole city, and he gave her two slices of cake for dessert and said he should’ve bought more books on electrical wiring.

lemony is appropriately concerned and horrified and thrilled to see his son, like, oh my god, but the moment is taken over by the urgency of the situation because klaus says he has something to tell all of them that cannot wait

[forgive me for not writing that one out.]

klaus: so it seems like mother is getting married

lemony: oh

lemony: well

lemony: like haircuts, marriage – marriage comes to all of us, at some point –

klaus: to bertrand?

kit, lemony, and dewey: /STUNNED, DEAD SILENCE

kit: oh my.

dewey: what are the odds?

lemony: I think I can die now. I believe i’m ready.

bernadette: why don’t you just go see them and work this all out???

lemony: bernadette, I don’t know if life works like that.

bernadette: uncle lemony, you’re going to ruin all my bright-eyed optimism.

dewey: sometimes I think I didn’t have anything to do with you at all, bernadette. I think you just sprang, fully-formed, from your mother’s head.

kit: don’t be vulgar, dewey. ….thank you, though.

kit: but really I don’t see any other way to sort this out than by going to see beatrice and bertrand.

[this was one of the very first conversations I wrote for this and I am still very attached to it, even though I find dewey so hard to write, I haven’t yet figured out how I think he functions with these guys, especially kit, which I should maybe have done sooner but, what can you do.]

[also I feel like it just makes more sense in this for them to KNOW bea is engaged]

[I’m putting this in here because honestly……….in the movie once elizabeth realizes the switch she does not spend nearly enough time hugging hallie constantly or getting to know her, I get that seeing your ex-husband for the first time in eleven years is A Lot but YOUR DAUGHTER WHO YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IN ELEVEN YEARS AS WELL IS RIGHT FUCKING THERE] [also makes up for not writing klaus revealing himself as klaus, i’m so sorry.]

lemony: klaus?

klaus: ?

lemony: I – please don’t think that I didn’t love you. because I do, and I have thought about you every second of every day, I promise you. and there are many things that I should have done as your father, and many things that I cannot make up to you, but I want you to know that whatever happens with this, I have always loved you. and I am sorry.

so i’ve always pictured that klaus (besides looking reasonably like bea anyway, in any universe) gets angry like she does, and bea gets that sort of like, quiet cool hatred that turns into full-blown shouting really quickly and she will pull no punches and just fucking give it to you!!!!! and klaus has some sort of version of that and like look I put a lot of thought into ‘adult problems fucking over small children as those adults fervently avoid those problems’ when I wrote babybea so like

man, of course klaus can be angry at his parents for like???? never trying to work things out???? this is the first time in almost ten years he’s seen his father and his sister and he has an aunt and an uncle (and another uncle he hasn’t even seen!) and a cousin he never knew about because of lemony and bea being stubborn and stupid and recklessly young!!!!! I think violet is honestly less mad about it (well, she gets a little mad about it later on, but like, being raised by lemony, she has this weird way of trying to rationalize things while feeling really guilty about it, but that’s scenes away from right here – or she just? maybe internalizes it more.) but klaus is like, he’s not totally angry but like, as himself, face to face with lemony, lemony talking to him like a parent and about klaus and not about bea or violet or shenanigans or anything, like, yeah, he’s a little angry that it’s just….taken this long and that lemony and bea are so stupid

klaus is an angry crier. and an angry hugger. so that’s what he does.

like it’s hard to suddenly have a relationship with a family member whose never….been that to you before or made themselves available like that or just generally been there at all, and as much as I want them all having a good time, bea and lemony have some shit to work out with their kids

THEY HAVE A GOOD HUG, IS THE POINT

and I want to say that like they spend some time together after this and…….yeah they probs do it’s just gonna be weird re: the previous paragraph so…….maybe they just sit around and read and occasionally point things out to each other, that sounds chill and legit, doesn’t ask a lot of either of them

SO, that brings us to, later that night, when lemony can Officially Panic

kit: so

kit: you seem a little tense, brother mine.

lemony: I am NOT going to break up a marriage between two loving people who care about each other and happen to have incredibly pleasant facial features and are two people I myself still care about a great deal despite not having seen either of them for a lengthy amount of time

lemony: we’re only going to switch the children back, and I will talk to beatrice, about something, and I don’t have to say anything at all to bertrand, and that’s going to be it. that’s all. nothing beyond that.

kit: that would be a more powerful statement if you weren’t packing every single fancy tie you own.

lemony: really.

lemony: we’re not going to think any more into this.

lemony: that’s all we’re going to do.

lemony: which tie should I wear?

kit: well, definitely don’t pick one of the ones you’re strangling in a death grip.

(hey, where is jacques in this??????????? wish I knew)

(he’s probably regularly out of town, maybe he happens to call home and bernadette is the one to pick up the phone and she’s like “we’re going to see aunt beatrice, I think we’ll be back in a week or something?” and then immediately hangs up because dewey calls her for something, and jacques is left, miles and miles away, standing in a phone booth and wondering if, perhaps, he should maybe visit his siblings more often so they don’t go tearing off to california

jacques: kit what the hell is going on

kit: what, didn’t bernadette tell you?

lemony: ask him what tie I should wear

kit: we’re embarking on the adventure of a lifetime, jacques, it’s your own fault that you decided to go out of town this weekend, I really don’t know what to tell you

lemony: ask him what tie I should wear

kit: /sighs

kit: what tie should your brother wear

jacques: the one with the single blue stripe, it brings out his eyes, what are you two doing

kit: really, jacques, you need to pay more attention

kit: lemony, he says the one with the blue stripe

lemony: oh, good. tell him he’s a lifesaver.

kit: lemony says you’re a lifesaver, although I have yet to see real proof of this, however I will consider changing my mind if you happen to bring me a souvenir. please remember that I could use a new set of nice, engraved fountain pens. also our plane is leaving soon and we need to pack, so bye, loser

jacques: ………………….

jacques: what did I do to deserve this)

(jacques, in any universe, is eternally pained by his siblings)

this being a rehearsal dinner brings it very close to, you know, an actual wedding date, and the thing is, I have planned a completely different wedding-related fic, weddings are EXPENSIVE AND, YOU KNOW, TIME-CONSUMING, PLANNED IN ADVANCE, ALL THAT SHIT

but the whole reason there’s a wedding in the parent trap in general is because, if meredith and nick are just dating, there’s no commitment, marriage means COMMITMENT and A TIME CONSTRAINT and meredith wants his fucking money

so yeah bea and bertrand ARE engaged and planning to get married and plans have happened but the idea of this being so close to the rehearsal dinner makes me sad about all those ‘yeah i’m gonna have to cancel’ phone calls someone is gonna have to make, which is, well, pretty silly, but still, I Hate feeling uncomfortable esp when reading things like that (or even just, thinking of them in advance)

and that is why they are scouting hotels for the reception. (don’t ask me where the denouement is. I do not know.)

so bea + co get to the hotel first, and the only people who know lemony + co will be there are violet and ramona

ramona, hanging back to talk to violet while bea and bertrand and olivia (she has a good eye for decorating.) go ahead: do you know what you’re going to do?

violet: well, I thought maybe we would just

violet: all bump into each other?

violet: and go from there??

ramona thinks that’s an exceptionally courageous take on this and that, yep that girl sure is bea’s daughter

[yeah bea still has NO IDEA ANY OF THIS IS HAPPENING ramona is A+ at keeping secrets

meanwhile, sometime later-

olivia: you didn’t tell me?????

ramona: olivia, I love you dearly but you can’t keep a secret to save your life

[oh, yikes, re: legit asoue canon]

olivia: ……..okay, you have a point.]

it is at this moment that lemony + co arrive, and bertrand, who had backtracked for a moment because he realized he dropped a pen, immediately runs into dewey, who had stopped near the door to examine the hotel brochures and ambiance in more detail (you can take the boy out of the hotel but you can’t take the hotel out of the boy)

[based on penultimate peril, I always thought bertrand and dewey were very good friends and had bonded over absurd poetry, and, of course, based on kit burning the poetry book, are still in contact – there’s much less of a sense of forced distance between bertrand and dewey, because dewey’s just lemony’s brother-in-law and bertrand was friends with dewey first so they’re still good friends but like most adults they have a hard time committing to keeping in contact regularly especially with the distance and haven’t physically seen each other for some time]

so they bump into each other –

bertrand: dewey!!

bertrand: it’s been ages, what are you doing here, how are you!!!

[dewey denouement, much in the way that olivia caliban can’t keep a fucking secret, cannot fucking lie.]

dewey: oh, um

dewey: you know

dewey: hotel conference!!

dewey: kit wanted to travel!!!!

dewey: we’re traveling FOR a hotel conference!!!

dewey: WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THESE CURTAINS, BERTRAND

bertrand: ……..dewey, you’ve never been very good at lying.

dewey: no, no I really haven’t.

dewey: forgive me for everything, bertrand.

bertrand: you might have to be a little more specific.

beatrice: bertrand, have you – dewey??

dewey: oh no

beatrice, remembering dewey and kit are married, suddenly battling sheer terror the likes of which she has never experienced: how….how are you

dewey: I could be better. I could definitely be better.

beatrice: is kit here?

bertrand: I believe they’re here to look at the curtains.

dewey: we’re definitely here to look at curtains.

beatrice: ….they don’t have curtains in england

dewey, grasping at straws: not….like these….?

MEANWHILE back at the ranch, lemony backtracks outside because he dropped a pen, narrowly missing three adults awkwardly talking about curtains

olivia: beatrice, we’ll be late for the wine tasting if we don’t go soon.

beatrice: oh – well, dewey, it was….nice to see you

dewey: please, go enjoy your wine.

bertrand: /waves good-bye!!!!

klaus and bernadette, hiding behind a nearby ficus, because bernadette thinks fast and has her own specific idea about how this should go and it doesn’t involve her relatives meeting again because of her father talking about curtains: wow.

violet: /narrowly avoids getting swept up into the wine tasting, darts for the elevator to try and locate klaus + co

MEANWHILE back at the ranch, upstairs, in their hotel room

lemony: why did I think I could do this

lemony: how do I approach a couple here to scout locations for a wedding reception?

kit: ….you approach them

dewey: don’t talk about curtains, maybe.

lemony: i’m not – dewey, what do curtains have to do with this?

dewey: trust me, just don’t talk about them.

there is a knock at the door. lemony has seen death. this is it, for him.

anyway, it’s violet.

klaus: violet!

violet: klaus!

awkward sibling hug sincere sibling hug!!

violet: klaus, please take your glasses back.

klaus: oh, thank you. my spare pair just doesn’t feel the same as these.

lemony: violet!

now, seeing the two of them together, he can absolutely tell the difference between them. ain’t that just the way.

lemony hugs his daughter like she’s going to disappear right out of his arms and then hugs klaus for good measure and he has to try and ignore the true roller coaster of emotions that puts him through and then tries to look very stern.

lemony: i’m not disappointed in the two of you but I cannot believe you switched on your mother and me. that was very….

lemony is not good at being angry at his children, he has no real concept of it.

lemony: ….clever. it was very clever.

violet and klaus are very proud but find it in themselves to try and look a little chagrined. they don’t do it very well.

violet: father, you really need to talk to mother.

klaus: and bertrand.

lemony: both of you know about bertrand??

klaus: you and mother are very transparent about him.

MEANWHILE back at the ranch, at the wine tasting

ramona: what do you think?

beatrice and bertrand, equally lost in thought about the presence of dewey, the implied presence of kit, and the possibility of the presence of lemony: hm??

bertrand: oh, yes

beatrice: wine

beatrice: /downs entire glass

beatrice: /sets down glass

beatrice: not that one.

bertrand, who has been holding the same glass for the past twenty minutes and has no idea which wine that even was: definitely not.

MEANWHILE back. at. the. ranch.

lemony’s children have such boundless courage (I have hurt myself so many times while writing this fanfic with the occasional too-on-point line and this in particular wounds me these kids are so strong and so important and won’t take no for an answer compared to their parents and get the chance to get their parents to FIX THINGS and oh no i’m gonna cry) and have dragged him downstairs to the lobby, with the INTENTION of having him run into bea and bertrand

lemony: this is not going to work out –

violet: nonsense!

klaus: it’s going to work perfectly.

meanwhile, bea and bertrand leave the wine tasting

bertrand: ….did we come to a conclusion, about the wine?

beatrice: no, I don’t think so.

bertrand stops by the bathroom to wash his hands for something to do as he’s consumed with thoughts (not about wine), beatrice is in a daze as she goes through the lobby, violet notices her but sees she’s not with bertrand and decides she has to stall

violet, rushing over, purposely trying to block beatrice’s view with varying success: mother, how was the wine tasting?

beatrice: oh, it was –

did you remember violet gave klaus his glasses back?

beatrice: klaus, what happened to your –

and, well.

beatrice looks at her so hard and processes kit and dewey being here and then it fucking hits her like (forgive me. forgive me so hard.) a harpoon to the chest

beatrice: ….violet?

violet: yes.

beatrice: but – how –

klaus, appearing next to her: it’s a truly fascinating chain of events we’d like to tell you, but –

hey! beatrice is stunned and horrified! and grabs her daughter into a hug, knowing now that it’s her daughter and has been this whole time and!!!! she feels so awful with herself for not noticing but is also trying to not make a big deal out of it and startle violet by sobbing uncontrollably on her shoulder but beatrice is simultaneously devastated and filled with so much love and she’s for sure going to break apart now

beatrice: and klaus –

she’s hugging them both now, it’s very good.

beatrice, in tears: you two are lucky you’re so cute

violet: mother, there’s someone we’d very much like you to talk to.

beatrice knows somewhere in the back of her mind that it’s lemony but is also not even thinking of lemony because, her children

klaus: /tries to wave lemony over

lemony: /trying and failing to hide behind a ficus, have you seen a ficus, have you seen lemony

violet: /ALSO WAVING

beatrice can’t miss that for the world.

beatrice, while turning around: what are you two –

imagine, if you will, lemony snicket trying to hide behind a potted ficus that hits about mid-chest.

also imagine, if you will, two people who divorced over eleven years ago, still have too many feelings about each other, split up their children for their stupidity, have been trying to avoid the knowledge that both of them are there for the past hour, and are now confronted with the reality of their lives right in front of them

…….besides the ficus.

lemony, stepping out from behind the ficus: hello, bea.

this is a headcanon i’ve long held, since I first started writing asoue fanfic, but, bertrand and lemony say ‘bea’ differently, especially in canon, like particularly in canon, so it’s like less so here but lemony still says her name with so much love, and bertrand says it with love too but lemony has known beatrice for so so long and here they are after years apart and here he is saying her name again, and he never ever ever expected to say it like that again, he never even DREAMED of saying it to her again, but it’s real

beatrice: lemony snicket.

violet: as nice as this is for us –

klaus: – we’re going to allow you three the time you need to discuss assorted events.

at this moment (of course), bertrand reemerges.

bertrand: bea, I –

he sees violet and klaus rushing off, looking delighted, and bea and lemony standing there still trying to process words, and then there’s bertrand, frantically thinking ‘abort mission, ABORT MISSION’

because. the way they turn and look at him, in tandem, like they did all the time in high school, immediately makes bertrand feel like they’re there, back in high school, back at prom, here’s the two absolute loves of his life standing in front of him and bertrand is filled with delight but also fear because, here it is, they all have to deal with it now

(all of them are thinking that, the three of them, standing there, there is not a single trace of jealously but instead there is so much love and regret and it’s, heart-wrenching)

and here is where he loses all his Chill™.

bertrand: you know what, i’m gonna – go –

bertrand: /trips over a chair

lemony: oh –

beatrice: bertrand!

bertrand: totally fine, still alive, i’m – they have such a nice gift shop, you know, i’m – i’ll be there

bertrand: /high-tails it practically out of existence

beatrice and lemony: ….

lemony: he – he still has a very nice running form.

beatrice: yeah, I think so.

lemony: well, bea

lemony: or does everyone call you beatrice now?

beatrice: no, no, bea – bea is fine. bertrand still calls me bea.

[beatrice starts to laugh. “it’s – man, it’s funny, isn’t it?”

lemony smiles at her. “what is?”

“i’m going to marry your high school crush,” beatrice giggles, “who’s still – still in love with you.” she stops. “you know, that’s actually really not as funny as it sounded in my head,” she says, frowning.]

they have dinner!!! and talk. about. stuff. do violet and klaus recreate the night lemony and bea met or the wedding or something????? idk honestly. like at least they didn’t get married UPON MEETING I MEAN LIKE COME ON (although somehow that is very them, but, come on, this backstory is good and solid and I love characters that grow)

maybe they just pool their allowances and give their parents a banging night out (which is pretty much just. dinner.)

beatrice: I see that cut on your forehead healed up nice

lemony: yes, anna karenina left very little lasting damage –

both: – except to anna karenina.

they pause, and then just, fucking burst out laughing, this is a horrible old joke for them that they made up when they were in school because anna karenina was the biggest book either of them owned (neither of them were particularly interested in war and peace) but was somehow sort of light and if you dropped it it really didn’t do much damage, which they thought was funny re: the size of the book and the subject matter

beatrice throws it at lemony during the fight that ends with their divorce and it’s the first time it actually hurts something

lemony: so, how is bertrand

lemony: I don’t think i’ve seen him since – well, since before the twins were born.

beatrice: oh, he’s – he’s doing really, really well. he’s a librarian, and – we keep joking about how many more books klaus and I will be able to read. lemony, he’s got the magazine editions of hammett –

lemony: w h a t

lemony: does he even have the –

beatrice: yep. he has the unfinished story. i’ve seen it.

lemony: I knew I liked that man for a reason

THERE IS SUCH A WEIGHTY PAUSE.

lemony: that is, hammett, obviously. I mean, the continental op is one of the quintessential fictional detectives, and hammett’s novels –

beatrice: you did like him, didn’t you

beatrice: when we were in school, you looked at him the same way you looked at me.

lemony: oh, no

lemony: I looked at you with a rapt adoration and I looked at bertrand like he was a puzzle I couldn’t solve. I have that on good authority from my sister.

beatrice: oh, right, right.

lemony: ….but I did, didn’t I. I did like him very much.

lemony: I don’t think anyone disliked him.

beatrice: that wasn’t quite what I asked, lemony.

lemony: ….what do you want me to say, bea? that I saw him there, with you, and couldn’t even find it in me to be jealous because the sight of you two together made me so unbelievably happy that I forgot how to breathe? that I – that I wondered, for a moment, if, twelve years later, we could – if I –

lemony: ….i don’t believe this conversation is supposed to be about bertrand.

beatrice: …….no, I – I suppose not.

lemony: that day, when you asked me to leave –

beatrice: you mean when I shouted at you to leave.

lemony: I was trying to be kind.

beatrice: lemony, I for sure shouted at you.

lemony: no, bea, I – I thought things would be better if I left. if you didn’t have to put up with me, because you clearly didn’t want to. and I didn’t make it easy for you, back then. there were many things I overlooked about both of us, things I hid from both of us, things I should have talked about with you. and I didn’t.

beatrice: ….oh.

lemony: I thought that loving the person that I wanted you to be was enough for the person that I wanted to be. obviously, it wasn’t, because you asked me to leave and I left. I never even looked back.

beatrice: ….lemony, I don’t think anything would’ve been enough for either of us. I asked a lot of you, too. I didn’t want you to see anything bad about me, and you didn’t, but the longer we were like that, the more I just – the more I really hated you for it. you just saw what you wanted to. and, well, what I wanted you to. I think I kind of hated me, too.

beatrice: sometimes, I think, what would’ve happened if we’d stayed together and I don’t know if I like that either. not that it was – okay, what we did. because it wasn’t. and we might’ve changed or we might’ve fucked up even worse, I don’t know, and i’ll never know.

beatrice: but lemony, seeing her now, I regret every single second I haven’t spent with her because of it.

lemony: I know.

beatrice, who’s a little angry cause she hates when lemony says that to her and her temper gets away from her: do you?

lemony, who’s just regretting all his life choices and knows he fully deserves beatrice’s ire: ….i’ve missed so much of his life.

beatrice, voice breaking: ….yeah.

man, these are some really miserable parents.

beatrice: we should – I don’t know, you know, what we’re gonna do, with – us – but we should – they, they should see each other. we can’t do that to them again.

lemony: I agree.

beatrice: you know, we have some pretty clever kids. I would never – okay, maybe, but I don’t know – have had the balls to switch places with someone on the other side of the world.

lemony: we do, don’t we?

lemony: I know we didn’t do a great deal right, but, maybe we did, with them.

beatrice: ….yeah, maybe we did.

beatrice: not every day two people have kids like ours.

lemony: …….can I be honest with you, bea?

beatrice: …okay.

lemony: i’m glad they switched places. i’m – i’m glad I got to see you. and bertrand. and you.

beatrice: i’m glad you came, lemony.

[all these conversations starring two people steadfastly trying to avoid that they are still in love with each other but also trying to really acknowledging they have Real Problems, brought to you by one (1) woman struggling to get two characters to talk about their problems but also the idea of introducing a third person into their already rocky relationship, don’t mind me just casually dying over here, this was harder than I thought]

beatrice, feeling the weight of this conversation and knowing they done fucked up in the past but also desperately wishing she and lemony could go back to where they were before only better and just trying to figure out where they’re gonna go from here, girl’s doing her best here, and you know what, so am i: so, um

beatrice: fuck, marry, kill

beatrice: continental op, nick charles, sam spade.

lemony, going through incredibly similar emotions: ….

lemony: do you want me to give my virtue to one man and then marry another

beatrice: why do you always take this game so literally

beatrie: I am banging nick charles, but I am marrying the continental op for job stability, and I am killing sam spade where he stands

lemony: bea, no, you can’t just kill sam spade like that

lemony: how about, I take the continental op to dinner, I have a pleasant night with nick charles –

beatrice: I like that we’d both fuck william powell.

lemony: we’ve both seen william powell. no one wouldn’t.

lemony: but sam spade, though, I don’t think it’s so clear cut as all that –

they’ve really!! grown a lot!! they’re really trying to talk this out!!! a little, at least!!! be adults!!!! talk like they didn’t eleven years ago!!!!!! they’re so stupid and they’re trying so hard!!!! my kids………….

this is definitely not the only conversation they’re gonna have about this, like it’s Good that they’ve said this but there’s. a lot more they need to talk about and will probably talk about, just not right now

anyway, LATER –

the continuing saga of two people Not Talking and then Talking About Certain Things and then Inadvertently Talking About The Things They Didn’t Want To And Not Quite Realizing It

lemony: at the hotel

lemony: you, ah, said something about bertrand

beatrice: !!!!

beatrice: ooo, we are talking about him, hmm?

lemony: bea.

beatrice: fine, fine. yes, that he’s still in love with you.

lemony: is he really?

beatrice: I think he is.

beatrice: you still didn’t really answer me before, when I asked if you still felt the same about him.

lemony: ….does it matter, if you’re going to marry him?

beatrice: of course it matters! i’m not – i’m not marrying bertrand to, prove a point or anything, or – say I like him better than you, I – i’m marrying him because I, I love him, but I don’t – that’s not all there is to this.

beatrice: I mean, we didn’t get divorced because of bertrand, that was all on us, but – seeing both of you, sometimes I feel like – maybe – we – maybe we could’ve made it work. not if we had bertrand, but with him. now.

beatrice: and, and that’s a lot, to ask you – I know – it’s a lot to ask both of us, especially after everything, but – do you?

lemony: ….bea.

beatrice: lemony.

lemony: ….i feel that, in the interest of the past eleven years, we should perhaps talk to him before I make a concrete decision about that personal feeling.

beatrice: well, that’s – that’s a wise choice.

they are, quiet, for a while

it’s a lot to think about, you know?? there’s a lot to this

lemony: …….but I think I do.

beatrice: you think you do?

lemony: I think I do.

beatrice: I think I do, too.

there is a little more silence because they’re like ‘!!!!! well that’s SOMETHING REALLY BIG TO THINK ABOUT’ especially because they haven’t like totally committed back to a relationship with each other and there is!! still!!! so!! much!!!! but, they’re thinking about it now, and they’re, sort of floaty-happy because it’s like, wow, wow, this is a possibility, they can

maybe

push it, a little, and see what happens, maybe maybe

lemony: well, you should, you are marrying him.

beatrice: shhh, you are ruining the rhythm.

lemony: I think –

beatrice: you think?

lemony: it’s been known to happen.

beatrice: mmm, I don’t think so

[it’s hard to tell because there’s generally very little concept of outside action/feelings when getting down scenes this way but these few lines are supposed to be v cute and soft and just the tiniest bit flirty]

lemony: trust me, I have had many a thought.

beatrice: well, I think –

lemony: you think, now, do you

beatrice: I do indeed, lemony snicket.

[god. lemony wants to kiss her so fucking bad. beatrice wants to keep teasing him until he does kiss her. they’re very close. he just. smooths her hair behind her ear and takes a step back.]

lemony: I think we should talk to bertrand.

beatrice: yeah. we should. we should probably do that.

MEANWHILE.

I want bertrand to bond with these kids with all my heart so that’s what fucking happens while bea and lemony are dealing with their problems

they play a rousing game of scrabble. it’s usually a game I give the snicket siblings because of their vicious playing styles (which is just based on me and my brother playing scrabble) BUT I love scrabble a lot and I think it’s super cute if bertrand hangs out with violet and klaus and they play board games, it’s distressingly endearing to me, violet trying to sneak in names of inventors on the board and klaus being insistent on following the rules of the game and bertrand trying to come up with a sufficient compromise

bertrand: okay, so, last names are allowed, but only if you can also include the first initial, initialisms by themselves are not allowed, and foreign words and phrases are on a case-by-case basis, providing I can translate it and you’re not trying to put down something inappropriate.

klaus: what about scientific names?? can I put down binomial nomenclature

violet: hey how do you spell binomial

klaus: b-i-n-o-m-i-a-l

violet: oh, how neat.

violet: /puts it down on the scrabble board

klaus: ….

violet: :)

bertrand: it looks like you can put down binomial nomenclature.

bertrand: but yes, I will allow actual nomenclature, klaus.

klaus is deathly quiet for the next few turns until he manages to put down nomenclature. (which I think is achievable, with enough luck.)

klaus: actual. nomenclature.

violet: so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh

bertrand: okay, references to previous conversations are no longer allowed, let’s try this again

eventually they stop playing the damn game and come up with their own wildly specific set of rules for playing scrabble, and bea and lemony come back to a lot of paper and a lot of scrabble tiles and violet and klaus sitting on either side of bertrand on the couch, helping him write this rule list

and bea and lemony want to comment about how they’re not even playing scrabble, but watching bertrand interact with their kids and be so soft and patient with them is the most distressingly heartwarming thing they’ve seen in a long time

they both have the immediate thought of ‘holy fuck I wanna kiss that man,’ which is followed by ‘holy f u c k maybe a relationship between all of us could work’

lemony: bertrand.

bertrand: ?

lemony: could we talk?

there is no camping trip! instead we got NEARBY HOTEL SHENANIGANS and THREE PEOPLE ON A DATE AT A LOCAL FAIR, TRYING TO FEEL THINGS OUT

imagine your average carnival-fair sort of thing with Rides and Games and Absurd Amounts of Cotton Candy and That Super Salty But Still Real Good Popcorn

bertrand and lemony arrive first and bea specifically gets there late so bertrand and lemony can actually talk, because honestly this is the only time I can see in all this that these two would be able to talk to each other uninterrupted

and they all know they’re there for the weirdest date ever but bertrand still feels the need to clear the air

bertrand: lemony, I don’t want you to think that I was waiting your marriage out or anything, I didn’t even know you two weren’t together until last year, and I didn’t even intend to see bea, it just happened on accident –

lemony: bertrand, it’s fine.

lemony: beatrice and I aren’t married anymore, you don’t have to explain anything.

bertrand: ….sometimes I feel like i’ve wanted to explain everything to you, for the past fifteen years.

[bertrand ‘breaking my fucking heart again’ baudelaire…….]

bertrand: that’s – silly, isn’t it.

lemony: no. I don’t think so.

bertrand: I never got the chance to say it. well, actually I don’t think I ever let myself say it, because I had plenty of chances! especially at prom, I could’ve changed everything! but you and bea were so – I wanted you two more than anything else in the whole entire world, but I didn’t want to hurt you two or what we had. I think I did, though.

bertrand: and, and I really shouldn’t blame myself or anyone for these stupid mistakes that happened when we were just kids, because we were just kids!

bertrand: I mean, we’re right here, right now, and i’m – i’m really looking forward to this, lemony.

[lemony, much like me, is momentarily dazzled by how fucking genuine bertrand is]

lemony: so am I.

lemony: ….i kept those candygrams you sent me when we were all in high school because they were remarkably sweet and I treasure them dearly

bertrand: !!

lemony is so nervous and I love him and you know when you get nervous and you just sort of spill weird secrets to people, especially when it’s the person you like???? that’s that

they look at each other for a moment and then start laughing and it’s the kind that starts kind of soft and then they’re just rampantly giggling and being dorks and I love them both so damn much okay

and because they haven’t regularly seen each other in you know fifteen years they spend some time. talking about their lives. there’s a lot of things they don’t know about each other!

lemony and bertrand like make a vague show of trying to win bea some prize and they suck and they stand to the side and talk while bea wins herself a prize and she runs back over to them and just looks so proud of herself, winning this…….thing (it’s very much “i don’t know if it’s a duck or a panda, but I want one.”)

lemony: is it a…….hmmm

bertrand: ….those are cat ears, right

beatrice: what, no, they’re wolf ears

lemony: it has webbed feet, though

bertrand: it’s a platypus! oh, no, not with all those feathers.

lemony: it could easily be a duck, I suppose

beatrice: BUT THE EARS

bertrand: a penguin!

lemony: a grackle

bertrand: a goose!

beatrice: THE E A R S

lemony and bertrand share an obnoxious amount of cotton candy, and honestly it’s the date they all should’ve had in high school, a date that would’ve changed everything, and man, they’re having so much fun and maybe they could do this, lemony has never been so happy and bertrand is just this ball of delight and, it’s really beautiful, and beatrice is for sure thinking that and she’s having such a good time and she’s so happy

but then

she thinks, what if it DIDN’T change everything, what if they all got together in high school and tried to make it work and really fucked each other over, would they have been able to do it?? what really would’ve happened??? and they’re adults now, they’re better people but they have so much more to think about, there is so much more at stake now and beatrice is fucking terrified about what could happen, all of a sudden

and she’s been terrified for years about all the terrible things that could happen to klaus or her or ramona and olivia and even their stupid cat and she’s still trying to hide it so well and she does, she’s happy and creates such a good life for her son but she is so scared and she can’t keep running from it anymore by being impulsive or silly or shouting all the time, she has to face the reality of the situation that she really has to think this one through, what all three of them are going to do about this

she and lemony still have so many problems, and they both know that, they all know that!!! they aren’t going to solve them right away!!! and with bertrand there, maybe it’ll be harder!! maybe it won’t be easier!!! not that bertrand immediately makes things easier, in any universe!!! but especially here!!! you know!!! what if they don’t talk about anything because he’s there??? what if they avoid talking about everything so much in trying to be happy that they irreparably fuck them all over??? it’s been so long since all three of them were together, what if they can’t do this!! what if their kids don’t like them together, what if none of them can get along??? suddenly there are a lot more variables to this, and seeing it happen, bea is struck by everything they’re going to have to fix and all the ways it could go wrong and it’s not good

beatrice: …..what are we doing?

beatrice: and – and what if it doesn’t work out, this time?? what if we all try this and we can’t do it??

bertrand: do you think that little of yourself?

beatrice: no.

beatrice: i’m thinking about, what if I break my kid’s hearts, even worse than I already have? I can’t do that, not to them.

and, they get it. they love each other so much but this story isn’t about just the three of them anymore.

bertrand and bea decide not to get married. and even though they all know they still love each other, lemony and bea have violet and klaus to think of, so they all decide it would be for the best to go their separate ways.

violet and klaus are not happy, by any means. they are not happy to pack up all their stuff and know that nothing is going to work out, and it hurts, a lot, man

klaus, picking up his books: I really respect our parents and their chosen additional life partner but don’t you think they can be a little…..

violet, jamming her toolkit into a suitcase: stupid?

klaus: I was going to say stubborn

klaus: but stupid works too.

so they all say good-bye :( lemony, violet, kit and dewey and bernadette go home. (bernadette’s real upset no one got back together. she hides it well but she just sort of crams herself into her seat on the plane on the trip home and is just super bummed. I love this lil kid.) (I fondly remember when this outline was nowhere near over 20k and was just a short little thing and bernadette’s scenes just monopolized it….)

the thing I love about bea raising klaus is that, and I also feel this for canon too, klaus gets so so much of bea’s anger and short temper

like violet is a lot more calmer in the take no shit category but klaus will, like his mother, flip a table

klaus: mother, that was the most foolish thing you’ve ever done and you know it

beatrice: !

beatrice: don’t you – don’t you use that tone with me, klaus

beatrice: I am your mother

klaus: and you’re just going to let my father and my sister walk away from us???

beatrice: I – it’s more complicated than that!

klaus: how??

beatrice: klaus, would you want me to risk this, everything we have, on the off chance that your father and I could maybe sort out our differences?

klaus: you didn’t seem to have that many differences!

beatrice: there’s a lot of things you don’t know, klaus!

klaus: then tell me! you’re the one who’s always telling me I can do anything, and I just think it seems pretty rich of you to decide that that doesn’t apply to you, or that I don’t get to know everything about the people who are supposed to be my family!

klaus has a point, here, and beatrice realizes that, so she decides IN THAT INSTANT that, okay. fine. it’s time to do something about this and she can do something about this.

SO SHE GOES TO BERTRAND

bertrand: bea, what –

beatrice: I can’t – look, I can’t do this to my kids either, okay, I can’t keep them apart anymore, what – why did I think that was such a good idea in the first place??? so I wouldn’t see lemony?? so I wouldn’t work things out between us, because we were fucking kids when we were together and, and I sacrificed my relationship with my daughter because I was so petty and selfish, and i’m doing it again, bertrand!! i’m letting myself do it again after everything we all talked about because i’m so fucking scared but I – I can’t do this to myself, you know? I want – I want things to work out this time. with all of us. I want to make it work and i’m going to make it work and i’m going to go get my daughter and lemony, and I want you to come with us, if you want to come with us.

klaus, leaning out of the car window and shouting at beatrice and bertrand, who are standing on the steps of bertrand’s place: if I may interject, the plane we intend to catch does leave in half an hour, so you two should maybe hurry up a little

klaus: not to ruin your moment or anything!

bertrand, desperately: I want things to work out, bea, I do. but what if you were right and we can’t –

beatrice: i’m right about a lot of things, bertrand baudelaire, and i’m right about this.

bertrand, nodding and trying not to smile too much: ….okay. okay.

MEANWHILE

violet: ….are you mad at me?

lemony: what – violet, I could never be mad at you.

violet: but I – I went behind your back, and I tricked both of you, and I wasn’t even thinking about what you wanted, it – it was just what I wanted, and that wasn’t okay, I shouldn’t have interfered with you and mother at all, I feel so awful –

lemony: none of what happened was your fault, violet. not at all. it was mine. i’m sorry that I kept so much from you. it was incredibly unfair to you, and to klaus. I should have told you a long time ago.

violet: I never got to ask before, but why did you and mother get divorced?

lemony: ….we were very young, and very impulsive. and, also, incredibly scared. that’s not a good combination when you’re trying to make a life with someone.

violet: you two seemed to get along a little better, now.

lemony: well, eleven years is a lot of time. you get older, and you realize the mistakes you made in your youth could’ve been dealt with a lot more easily than you previously thought. you realize you were….

violet: stubborn?

lemony: stupid.

violet: what made it not work out, this time?

lemony: you also realize there are more important things to think about than yourself and what you want.

violet: !

violet: father, I didn’t want you to –

lemony: it wasn’t your call to make, violet.

violet: but it was yours about whether or not I get to see my brother? you were only thinking about what you wanted, too!

lemony: ….

violet: ….that was rude of me, i’m sorry.

lemony: no – don’t apologize, violet. please.

violet, still very angry but also just sad and concerned about how lemony has, in the intervening time between these two conversations, said very little: I thought bertrand was nice.

lemony: bertrand – bertrand is very nice.

so they get back home.

lemony: what would you like for dinner?

violet: I don’t think i’m all that hungry, father.

lemony: no, neither am I.

and lemony just sort of, wanders into the library with his hands in his pockets, because he’s somehow more miserable than he’s been in quite some time, and he’s expecting to just sit around and stare at his typewriter and not get anything done for the rest of the night or really for the foreseeable future, and the library is filled with so many books and so much stuff but it feels so empty to him now, and lemony himself feels empty and horrible about everything and he just stares at the floor without really seeing anything at all

AND THEN

klaus, sitting in one of the library chairs: father, did you know that the concorde gets you here in half the time?

[I just kept the line. I thought long and hard and could not for the life of me think of any other jazzy lil line.] [although yes sadly the concorde no longer exists]

[hey, if lemony and violet are here, and kit and dewey and bernadette were with them on the plane, who’s driving the bus who let bea and bertrand in the house???? cause in the movie it’s gotta be the grandfather

jacques, who had stopped at lemony’s house hoping that he could catch them before the flight but obviously not catching them, who stayed to water the plants: /exiting the house

beatrice, careening out of a taxi: JACQUES HOLD THE DOOR

jacques: !!!! beatrice?? what are you –

bertrand: we’ll have to tell you later, there’s no time!

jacques: bertrand????

klaus really only has time to wave.

all three of them: /BOLT PAST JACQUES INTO THE HOUSE AND SLAM THE DOOR SHUT, leaving jacques out there in the street

jacques: ……….]

anyway

lemony, STUNNED: klaus?

violet, dashing into the room because she heard her brother: klaus!

klaus: ideally we would’ve figured this out before you left, but when you did, we were not completely happy about it.

lemony, still trying to collect himself: you –

and there’s bea and bertrand, standing there, real as anything! really there!! in his library!!

and lemony walks towards them, because this isn’t a matter of, chasing anyone, it’s all of them coming together like this

beatrice: this is gonna work. the three of us, this is gonna work.

beatrice: what do you think?

and the thing. about lemony. is that what he wants more than anything else in this whole fucking world. is a family. particularly in canon, being separated from (reasonably dead) parents and growing apart from his siblings and losing those connections to people, he so desperately wants something that’s his and his own and that he can keep stable by himself

and I think he still feels that way even in whatever fucking world of an au this is, and of course he wants to be with bea and bertrand and to have klaus and violet because he loves them but he is also massively craving that stability of having his own family and like really having it this time, not fucking it up because he’s young and stupid and just as impulsive as bea

THE POINT IS THIS IS A LOT FOR HIM, OKAY, THIS MEANS SO MUCH, to get this!! second chance at all the things he totally fucked up before, PLUS the loves of his life!!!!

and like!!! there’s bertrand. there’s bertrand!!! standing there and reaching out to take lemony’s hand and lemony takes bea’s and bea takes bertrand’s other one and. the road they had to take to get here wasn’t. the best. all the time. they all made mistakes. some. worse than others. and this isn’t the end, right here, there’s still gonna be things they have to work out. and it’s gonna be okay because there’s beatrice and bertrand and lemony. they’re in the same room and no one’s scared.

lemony: yes.

beatrice: yes???

bertrand: yes?

lemony: yes.

there’s a lot of good hugging, people are kissed, comments are made about chapstick flavors, lots of laughter, violet and klaus are tearing up and thrilled beyond belief, everything is beautiful!!!!!

klaus: I can’t believe –

violet: – we actually did it!

and, of course, beatrice was right. about everything.

the following amount of time is filled with –

-lots of arguments.

-mostly between bea and lemony.

-although bertrand has his fair share of arguments with both of them.

-violet and klaus don’t speak to each other for two weeks under the pretense of disagreeing about a book’s theme but really because they’re not sure how to act around each other now that they’re both there, they’ve lived their whole lives as only children and this is what they wanted but it’s also something they didn’t think about having to adjust to

-there’s also this immediate reluctance to listen to anything bea and lemony tell them because they have to get used to parents now, too

-parents who aren’t currently super functioning as parents

-there’s a lot of second-guessing people’s intentions

-why did you say that?? the hell does that eyebrow mean???? you picked that song for a REASON and fuck you for that!!!! you don’t trust me to drive, do you???? I KNOW HOW TO MAKE A SANDWICH FOR MY CHILD THANK YOU VERY MUCH

-that sort of thing.

-in varying shades of seriousness.

-i know it sounds mostly like just bea screaming there but trust me the sentiment is shared by all of them in various ways and actions

-they don’t do it in front of violet and klaus though

-NO ONE KNOWS WHERE THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO LIVE NOW, do they stay in england or all go to california??? do they go somewhere else???????? what even (I don’t even know)

-(they probably do stay in england though. that’s what I was picturing while writing this.)

-violet and klaus do adjust to no longer being only children and realizing they have someone their age to rely on now who understands them

-they make blanket forts where violet designs these stands that will hold books up and periodically turn the page so they can lay on their backs and read and not worry about moving

-klaus reads up on inventors so he and violet can talk about them

-they argue with bea and lemony a little about weird things because violet and klaus are trying to figure out where they are with their parents now and how they’re supposed to act and bea and lemony are trying to figure out how to coordinate parenting while wanting to kill each other

-they institute family game night and try to best each other in cards or scrabble because they can handle that

-bertrand, of course, is in a very awkward position at this time

-like he’s around but he can’t take sides because that’s Weird and he’s not that kind of person anyway, and he wants to be there but he doesn’t quite know as what

-like, he was gonna marry bea!! and now he’s not. and he loves lemony!!! but he can’t do anything about it because bea and lemony have problems to work out!!! and bertrand loves both of them!! and they love him!!! they know they do!! he knows they do!!!!! but everything is very uncomfortable!!!

-like, bertrand needs to be on equal footing in this relationship too!

-he hangs out with dewey a lot and they become Poetry Buds again

-he participates in family game night

-bea and lemony are worried that bertrand is only going to see himself as like a peacemaker between them when he isn’t because he never has been and realizing that bertrand is a huge official permanent part of their lives now is a big thing for them

-hi, my name’s lulu and writing the navigation of relationships is hard!!!! it’s so fucking hard

-the three of them watch movies wednesday nights – bertrand picks the movies and he picks these really sweet romantic ones (cause that’s just the kind of movies he likes!!!) and it’s unbearably great

-they mean to watch the thin man movies (the ones with nick charles aka william powell aka the guy lemony and bea would both fuck if they had had the opportunity) over a series of weeks but wind up marathoning all six of them one night (and it takes all night)

-none of them can function the next day

-bertrand: I get it. i’d do it with nick charles, too.

-beatrice sings herself hoarse during a play rehearsal and can’t talk for a week

-she can’t sleep one night and lemony finds her in the kitchen and makes them both tea and they salute each other with the mugs

-bertrand takes up writing limericks and leaves them around the house and lemony finds one in the shower and slips from laughing so hard

-bertrand, in the hospital: I could’ve killed you with poetry

lemony: I mean, all things considered, it’s not the worst way to go. it’s better than next to a pile of books I was meaning to read, which I always thought to be much more likely. slipping in the shower because of a charming limerick about shoes? it’s not all that bad.

bertrand: I don’t know whether to take the compliment or be worried about how you’ve considered how you’re likely to die. please don’t die.

-beatrice shows up at the hospital and throws the stuffed animal from carnival night at lemony

lemony: oh, you didn’t have to give me your….ah….

bertrand: ….moose? have we guessed moose?

beatrice: the ears……….

-things get, better

-they take turns picking up the kids from school

-some kid: gee violet how come your mom lets you have two dads

violet: just lucky, I guess

-lemony helps beatrice rehearse her lines and they straight-up make out for an hour instead

-lemony and bertrand make dessert once a week and routinely end up covered in flour

-there is a household debate on ‘what species is the stuffed animal’ and ‘what are we going to name it,’ moderated by kit

-violet puts on a one-woman play that she and klaus wrote about hedy lamarr for her school’s talent show and receives a standing ovation

-lemony and bea and bertrand are in the front row and beatrice is full-on sobbing during the standing ovation

-they get bertrand a new record player for his birthday and all three of them dance to his records the whole night

-yes they ARE all falling in love with each other all over again it is very important to me that they’re all on the same page when they do that

-violet and klaus make bertrand a ‘best additional parent’ mug because they don’t quite know what to call him (they haven’t figured it out yet), like violet makes him a fucking mug in her glassblowing class (you ever seen someone glassblow a mug??? it’s great.) and klaus does this beautiful calligraphy label for it

-bertrand cries immediately, for the next hour of his life, and just carries it around because he doesn’t know where to put it

-beatrice: aww, that was so sweet of you two, to make – does that say ‘additional parent’

lemony: I believe it says ‘additional parent.’

violet: we did also consider ‘greatest poet’ but that had less of the feeling we wanted.

klaus: we do realize that ‘best’ is truly an unquantifiable concept, because there’s no one out there ranking parents, but we thought it was the most fitting.

it’s after that that they all decide to get married.

later on, sunny is born!! and she’s very upset she missed out on all these shenanigans.

[jacques comes back to find so many people in his brother’s house.

kit: well jacques, you really should be home more

lemony: yes, find a nice person

lemony: …...or two

kit: settle down, stop looking so surprised.

lemony: kit your daughter just leapt off the bookshelf and tackled my husband

kit: and am I surprised? no.]

[also jacques does not buy his sister a nice new set of engraved fountain pens.

kit: so did you get me a souvenir or not, jacques

jacques: souvenir? I thought you said

kit: JACQUES WE ARE ADULTS DON’T YOU DARE BEETHOVEN ME

jacques: edward lear

jacques: here’s this book of delightful nonsense poetry.

kit: how could you]

[while bea is pregnant with sunny –

bertrand: what about sunny?

lemony: bertrand baudelaire.

lemony: you come into my house.

lemony: you marry my wife.

beatrice, across the room: I married both of you???

lemony: and you have the audacity.

lemony: to suggest we name our daughter after our high school drama teacher.

bertrand: okay but your reaction isn’t necessarily a no]

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Blood Sister | Feeding Habits Update #5

Hey People of Earth!

Are we back for another Feeding Habits update? Today let’s chat chapter six!

Blood Sister is the first chapter in Harrison’s POV and also the longest chapter in the book (a little over 8k words). It took me about a month to write!

Scene A:

Harrison gets back to the NYC apartment he shares with his mother after running errands to ward off either the spirit that haunts their walls or to rescue whatever is stuck in them. His mother preps for a dinner as Harrison has invited his old pal Reeve over.

Scene B:

Harrison removes a litter of kittens from behind the drywall. One of the kittens is dead. Strangely, a German Shepherd puppy is also in the litter.

Scene C:

Reeve appears in a glamorous blur and makes an interesting first impression on Suz who seems slightly stunned and endeared by her.

Scene D:

At dinner Reeve confronts Harrison about his “straight-edge” lifestyle since moving to NYC and he realizes her judgements about his life being monotonous are very true--he lacks purpose.

Scene E:

Harrison and his mother clear the dishes and Suzanna confronts him on the fact that he hasn’t told her that Reeve is in fact Lonan’s sister. Suz knows the boys’ relationship is complicated, and plays Devil’s advocate by outright asking Reeve how her brother is. Reeve, who hasn’t seen Lonan longer than Harrison, has assumed Lonan lives with them or is close by, and feels semi-betrayed that Harrison has kept his whereabouts a secret.

Scene F:

Reeve and Harrison drive to a garden and he’s reminded of the event that lead to him and his mother’s return to the east coast.

Harrison meets Winona outside a convenience store, the same woman Lonan meets in ch.6 of Moth Work. She takes him to her mansion where she’s hosting a party and introduces him to her husband. Harrison makes multiple bad decisions which you can probably figure out for yourself!

Scene G:

Harrison wakes up in Winona’s house and is confused to see her and her husband standing over his leather jacket. If we remember what happened in ch. 6 of Moth Work, Lonan gets beat up by Winona’s husband and has Harrison’s jacket & angel chain stolen. We can assume from this scene that Winona has a) recognized the jacket and b) chosen him to come back to her house for the purpose of also beating him up (which happens).

Scene H:

Reeve and Harrison jump a fence into a garden to give the dead kitten an unorthodox “water burial” in the garden’s fountain. Reeve confronts him on why no one has seemed to care about her whereabouts for the last year, and also suggests the only reason he wanted to see her now is because he misses Lonan. Harrison miserably drinks too much wine.

Scene I:

Harrison wakes up in the cold, very drunk, and Reeve is gone. A security guard looms over him. Harrison asks the confused man if he thinks he was separated at birth. Harrison isn’t referring to feeling like he’s been removed from a sibling bond, like the kittens, but a deeper, “indissoluble bond” formed between two people (like the kittens and the puppy). This connects to the title “Blood Sister” as Reeve suggests she and Suzanna may be connected in this way, to the kittens, and to Lonan and Harrison.

This idea of “indissoluble bonds” was reinforced when I listened to Stephanie Harlowe’s coverage on the Parker-Hulme case, and this was the title of her video! This idea of an immutable connection between two people who are forever separated, like the dead kitten despite its death, still being connected to its siblings, was very relevant to how Harrison feels about Lonan.

Excerpts:

Here’s the entire first scene <3

Something has died in the drywall. Suz insists there must also be a ghost—she hears cries when she sleeps—so when Harrison returns to their apartment with both a handsaw and a bottle of holy water, she’s more than pleased.

Today, it snows in New York City, and no amount of brushing off his hair and jacket rids him of the snowflakes he tracks in. His face stings with the bitter early March air, and he’s resettled easily into the east coast grit; he likes the taste of instant coffee and the smell of gasoline.

Harrison shoulders off his jacket, the leather rigid with frost, and undoes the loop of his scarf one-handed. The apartment smells overwhelmingly of cloves and apple peel, and he is unsurprised when his mother rushes over to him, flushed from the kitchen heat, her #1 Dad apron bunching at her hips, and pushes a highball glass into his palm in exchange for his findings.

“It’s a secret recipe,” she says, twiddling through his errands. Suzanna lifts the bottle of holy water to eye level, unscrews its cap, and daps two soaked fingers to her lips just as he dips his fingers into the glass, around its rim, and then into his mouth. The hot mull of liquid bursts against his taste buds, citrusy. “Wish I believed in this shit as much as I believe nutmeg is my new holy saviour.”

Harrison downs the rest of the glass’s contents, the cider’s spice grafting down his throat. Its heat clings to the roof of his mouth, a subtle burn that numbs his tongue, but he likes it, its sweetened acid like a rucking back to life.

“Is that the secret?” He runs his pinky along the base of the glass so the last drops of liquid climb up his fingernail.

“The Lord?”

Harrison laughs and accepts the holy water she hands him, rescrews its cap in place. “Nutmeg.”

Suzanna takes his empty glass and whisks toward the kitchen. On the stove burbles two saucepans and one Dutch oven, the fan whirring like the pleats of an accordion.

“Maybe it’s both,” she says.

You asked for the entire second scene? Here Harrison finds the litter of kittens:

The first thing Harrison removes when he saws through the drywall lining the two-prong outlet is a dead kitten. Its body shifts onto his hand with damp weight, like an overripe pear, its silver hair glass-like under the beam of his flashlight. Though it sits comfortably in the pit of his palm, though he knows he cannot kill or revive it, his first instinct is to lay it on the beach towel Suzanna laid out because he fears he’ll crush it with just one pulse of his thumb.

Its eyes are the size of his pinkie nail, gently shuttered like it’s drifted to a lawless sleep. The animal will remain in this state—only death, but as he looks at it, braying its hairs back with his forefinger, he considers alternative options. Harrison knows little of necromancy, but considers anointing it with the holy water, lighting a red-cased candle in front of it, chanting a verse from Revelations.

With the flashlight secured between his molars, Harrison pulls out four more kittens, all that mew as they cling to his fingers, their noses twitching against his skin like it’s feed. They burrow into the beach towel, trampling over one another with blind fervency, all shimmery silver. In comparison to their deceased sibling, they wriggle, pink-nosed, and don’t settle against the grain of the towel, always wagging, like earthworms.

Harrison believes he’s done—removed the dead animal and rescued four more. Good work which he’ll take to a farm just outside the city—Suzanna has a friend. He’s nearly clicked off the flashlight when he sees it, just a subtle glint of something else—an animal that isn’t silver, but a dry brown.

At first, he thinks it’s a rat that’s raked through the walls to where it is now, but the longer he shines the flashlight, the more he sees it is not a rat, or even a kitten. What sits, jittering behind the outlet, is a pup.

Like the kittens, its nose twitches back and forth, its eyes small enough to be the ovular black beads on Suzanna’s rosary which hangs, decorative, above the front entrance. “It’s a cleanse for the spirit,” Suz said when he questioned her reasoning for bringing religious memorabilia into a house of two atheists. “Dianne from church told me.” Dianne is a beer-bellied schoolteacher, proud pothead and mother of four who frequently volunteers at the church’s weekend functions with his mother. “She’s into that kind of thing. Seances. Jesus Christ. I think she mentioned they had something spicy going on in college.”

“Something spicy?”

“Spicy. Like hot wings. Habaneros. One-night stands. I don’t know Harry, it sounded illicit.”

They both grinned.

Harrison does not know when him and Suz began getting along. There was no one date or time, no anniversary to look forward to for their official reunion. One moment he struggled not comparing her face to the one he knew in his early teens, and the next, they crouched over a salad bowl of burnt popcorn, taking turns painting each other’s fingernails with the same shade of red nail polish—Crazy for Carmine

The dog can’t yet focus its eyes on anything, but Harrison swears it stares at him. It fidgets from its position crouched on the outlet, so when he extends his hand, an offering, he’s surprised when it crouches onto the tip of his finger, shimmying into his palm. It’s even smaller when he holds it, plum-sized, and velveteen. Its eyelids flicker like the apartment’s bad TV signal, and when it opens its mouth to cry, its teeth, no larger than the tip of a toothpick, prick up.

“You’re not a tabby,” he says, drags his fingers through the suede-like gloss of its fur. The pup curls against his knuckles, murmurs languidly until Harrison pets its head again.

“Did you say something, Harry?”           

Harrison stands from his crouch when his mother materializes from her bedroom, the animal still pared delicately in his palm. When he glances at her, he’s surprised to see she’s changed out of her usual loungewear, a tank top and bell-bottoms, and into a patterned shirtdress that sways to her knees. The Matisse-like design, organic shapes, all the colour of a celery stalk, drapes to her knees, flounces when she twirls for him.           

“I thought we agreed on business casual,” he says, but smiles wider the longer he looks at her. Tulle gathers in a funnel down her waist, pluming her so she looks less like his mother and more like a fairy.          

“I’m taking the business side, and you’ll take the casual.”          

“She’s just a friend, Mom. She’s not expecting anything.”           

“She’s got an English last name,” Suz says. Her eyelids glitter with gold pigment, her lips tacky with rouge. “Of course she’s classy.”           

Harrison thumbs the back of the pup’s head and shifts closer to Suzanna when she cocks her head toward it.

“I think Reeve is more than classy,” he says. “Maybe stylish. Exclusive. Superior. Glamorous.”           

Suzanna shifts the pup from Harrison’s hands to her own, neatly patting its head with her pinkie until its murmurs soften. When she holds the animal, it’s like he no longer stands behind her. It’s just her in her Matisse dress and the dog, comfortably blinking in her hand. “You found a puppy in a litter of kittens?” she says, less of a question, and more of a declaration of wonderment. She lifts the animal to eye level. Its nose wrinkles, like the skin of a fig. “Looks like mama picked up a stray. A beautiful stray. You’re absolutely beautiful.”

Reeve making only iconic appearances:

Reeve appears in their doorway wearing cat-eye sunglasses, a bottle of pinot noir slatted between her arm and chest. Though it’s been storming since early morning and there has been no sun in the city since the week previous, her appearance is so believable—cheekbones subtly tanned like she’s mastered the timing for a perfect sunlike glow, the sunglasses teetering neatly on the tip of her nose and staying there, like they’re a dog she’s taught to sit and stay—that Harrison’s almost convinced she commissions the sun to come out twice daily for a private show, just for her.

“We booked an appointment,” she says, letting herself into the apartment in a faux-fur blur.

Harrison swivels as she unzips, tooth by tooth, the red skin-slick vinyl of her gogo boots. Her hair falls in an untamed fringe around her forehead, the front sections pinned back by an array of rainbow-coloured butterfly clips. It mimics the fray of her jacket, fluffed around the hood’s perimeter.

Reeve dusts snow off her corduroy culottes, readjusts the collar of her black turtleneck. “When I moved to the city, I forgot how gruelling the winters can become.” She taps the heels of her boots onto the welcome mat so slush flakes onto the rubber before slipping her feet out elegantly, like Cinderella. “I almost believed New York City existed in a fictional bubble where everything remained dry and hot, like in Egypt, or the Mojave. When I asked for a hellish climate, I was hoping for sun and the occasional forest fire. Not ice and more ice.”

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.” Suz speaks where Harrison’s words shrivel. She steps from the kitchen to the entrance, her dress flouncing when she extends a hand toward Reeve. “William Shakespeare.”

Reeve looks up. The cold has pinched her cheeks pink, drooled water to her eyes so when she blinks, tears sprout to her jawline. “Suzanna,” Reeve says, and embraces his mother with willful ease, like they’ve been girlfriends for a decade, like they purchase pavlova from the same patisserie at the same time on Thursdays, like they help each other whip perfectly fatty meringues at the same baking class so they can master the same pavlova and never buy it again. “I’ve heard nothing about you and yet I feel we’ve known each other for years. What do they call that? Blood sisters.”

So here’s the whole third scene lol:

At dinner, Reeve pops the cork of a bottle of pinot noir with her teeth before Suz tells her she and Harrison don’t drink. She’s in the middle of saying she’s a prophet, the bringer of wine, her lips parted around the cork, traces of her lip gloss gumming around its circumference.

“No alcohol?” Reeve says, spitting the cork into her palm so a glob of red transfers onto her skin.

Suz stirs a serving dish of clams with an olive wood spoon, their shells phosphorescent in the artificial light. “Harry and I have taken a break from spirits. Except for the holiest one of course.” She points to the roof as if signaling to the man upstairs and dishes a spoonful of clams onto Reeve’s plates, the shells chiming against the ceramic.

“That’s so reverent.” Reeve pricks the edge of a clam with a toothpick and swallows its frill into her mouth. “So virginal.”

Harrison accepts a spoonful of clams from his mother and adjusts a sprig of rosemary so it lies perpendicular to the plate’s edge. Olive oil gums under his fingernails and soaks into the fibres of a slice of bread he rips at the crust.

“I always assumed you’d be a partier if you ever moved back to the city,” Reeve says, and it takes Harrison a moment to realize she’s speaking to him. “Disco. Karaoke. Cocktails. Men who buy you cocktails.”

“Has that been your life in New York, Reeve?” Harrison sucks a lobe of clam between his lips. Its brine coats his tongue in a burst of salt and cilantro.

Reeve tips the bottle of wine to her mouth, its red gift bow shifting, silverish with light. “You could say that. I just expected more. Not that your life now is boring. But I assumed there would be more glamour.”

Harrison sops up a dribble of oil onto a shear of bread, and says something like, “I thought so too,” before swallowing.

“We have glamour,” Suz says as Harrison absently eats more clams. She points to the chandelier the two found at the bottom of a New Jersey dumpster, yet to be installed, sitting in its crystal glory on the floor. She explains the story of how it came to be as Harrison eats and listens for the mewing of the kittens, thinks about their one dead sibling that now lies curled inside a shoebox, separated in eternal rest.

Reeve is not wrong. Life in New York City has been far from glamorous. He shares this apartment with his mother who pays for all of the rent—it’s been months since Harrison could hold down a steady job. He tries with odds and ends—repairing a neighbour’s bathroom sink, tacking sconces up outside the apartment for a hundred bucks. His room is a décor-less box that smells like wallpaper even though it’s sanded smooth and painted with two coats of an eggshell-finished oatmeal white. There is no dancing, no music, no colour, no partying, no alcohol or men with alcohol. Not anymore, at least. Her statement should not sting—this is the utter truth. The apartment is repetitive shades of indistinctive creams, furniture he and his mother pick up off the curbs of wealthy homeowners, incomplete, yet his home, nonetheless. No matter the story Suz tries to spin—look at the exposed brick, look at the counter space, look at the custom-moulded baseboards the previous renters installed—he knows what Reeve has said is true. Life in the city is comfortable but monotonous—an unrelenting kind of normal.

“We found kittens,” Harrison says, promptly interrupting the women’s conversation that has quickly moved away from the apartment to their favourite places to eat gelato. Suz’s clam drifts off her toothpick; Reeve almost chokes on a gulp of wine. Harrison swipes a chunk of bread through olive oil and chews. “That’s glamorous.”

Reeve sets the wine bottle back onto the dinner table and folds her hands over the other. Her manicure is chipped, just the remnants of a tortoiseshell marble. “What kind? Calico?”

“They’re just kittens. And a dog.”

“You found a dog in a litter of kittens?”

Harrison eats one last clam and finishes his portion of bread. “Glamorous,” he says, his mouth half-full.

The beginning of scene 4:

While Suz and Reeve discuss room décor and clear the plates, Harrison checks on the kittens. Dishes clank rhythmically as they’re soaped, rinsed, dried, the ceramic whimpering in time with the kittens. He hasn’t named any but understands their differences. Though the quadruplets share the same silver coat, one has a slightly larger nose than the rest, one has a fleck of gold in its blue eye, one has pinstripes scrolled across its forehead like a branch of lightning—small details like this differentiate them.

In his palm, the one with the golden eye crawls, its underbelly sateen. Tomorrow, he’ll make the drive just outside Brooklyn where he’ll drop the kittens off at an old farmhouse. Suz’s friend from rehab is selling it, some Theodore Harvey, but his wife fosters animals, and was delighted to have the new additions. Though he hasn’t spoken to his mother about this arrangement, he also knows tomorrow he will keep the dog. Juniper, he’s named her—June with the eyes like a solstice.

When his mother pokes him, he jumps, and the kitten shimmies off his palm.

The sounds of dishes clinking morphs into the filmy mutter of a talkshow Reeve watches, sipping absently at her gifted bottle of red wine.

She nudges a pastry into his hand, where the kitten once sat, the skin of the pasteis de nata oiling his hand. He crunches into it as she watches patiently, as if waiting for a review, and its caramel flavour ruminates on his tongue.

“This is good,” he says around a mouthful of pastry.

“$4.99.” Suz smiles and takes a nibble herself. “For six.”

Together they stand over the kittens, passing the tart back and forth until Harrison gives the final piece to his mother. The apartment whirs with the calculated singe of automated laughter and the purr of the kittens. He knows one sits dead in a shoebox on his bedroom dresser. The ground too hard to dig, a burial still necessary.

Suz licks a crumb from her thumb and wipes her palms along the skirt of her dress. Their focus shifts to Reeve who lies sprawled against the two-seater, yelling something at a contestant on the show who’s gotten an answer wrong—tulip, not two lips. That’s fabulous. You are fabulously a failure.

“You didn’t tell me she was Lonan’s sister.”

Harrison pokes at a flake of pastry and wipes his hands on the front of his jeans. Reeve’s bangles clatter in a cyan jangle as she applauds at the same contestant she previously ridiculed. There are so many things he could say to his mother—he knew Reeve first, Reeve isn’t just Lonan’s sister to him, more like his own, but when he adjusts himself, swallowing and tidying the hem of his shirt, all that comes out is, “I didn’t think you needed to know.”

“I would’ve like to,” Suz says. “Does she know? That you don’t know where he is?”

Harrison’s fingernail catches on a loose thread, and he yanks it out so even Reeve glances back at its upholstered plink. “I know where he is, Suzanna.”

Reeve and Suz being icons (direct continuation from the above):

Harrison turns back to the kittens who plow over one another like ants. Heat flushes his throat, prickles his cheeks and ears and suctions like a vacuum. Though Suzanna eventually leaves, joining Reeve on the couch, propping her feet on the same coffee table so their polished feet touch, toes pink like raw cherry tomatoes, though he knows they’re both right in knowing and not knowing where Lonan is, though he knows it should no longer matter to him, he finds himself leaning against the table where the kittens encase each other in a plastic shoe bin, ticking his fingers at his side.

He does not know what the reality television show is about. From the blots he hears from the TV’s can-like speaker, he concludes it’s something about botany, love, vengeance, fertilizer. No one theme—it does not even know what it is itself. Suz has materialized with another tart, and she and Reeve nibble at it with fervency, so close, their tongues almost touch as they dart across the custard. The sight is almost viper-like, their teeth notched forward, and it should be venomous, or at its worst—friendly, but all Harrison sees is girlish, maternal intimacy.

Suz and Reeve laugh at a contestant who wears a tartan printed jumpsuit and mismatching earrings—one the shape of a pineapple, the other an urn-like bead she claims holds the ashes of her great aunt. They outline her figure with their pinkies. They clutch each other’s hands. They flush like beets and wipe crumbs from each other’s mouths.

Reeve’s momentary lapse into delicacy:

Harrison turns his back and pretends to tend to the kittens. They all know he does nothing but thumb the backs of their heads, let them suckle against his fingertips—they all know, and yet, he continues doing it. Silence cuts through the apartment like hot glass.

If Reeve and Suzanna still touch toes, it’s because neither want to loosen the other’s pride. The only sound in the room belongs to the television which has moved away from dishwashing to a watering hose—four for four, as if this is a discount, as if anyone will truly need that many watering hoses.

“I haven’t seen your brother since late August,” Harrison says once the commercials simmer back to the gaudy laughter of the reality television show. At first, he doesn’t look at Reeve. He knows what he’ll see—some form of betrayal. She didn’t come here looking for Lonan. She hasn’t even asked for him, but he knows what he’ll see when he looks at her. Best friends do not keep secrets.

When he concedes, he is right. Reeve looks at him from under a thick smear of kohl, her eyes focused, like slate beads. Her lips are pink from wine and she unhinges a fleck of opal nail polish from her thumb. Her mouth does not move, a straight line that cranks with her jaw.

“Where is he?” she asks, fluttering her lashes when Suz pats her arm. If Harrison is right, Reeve hasn’t see her brother since she peered in on him when the two shared the tent, pearled a few smoke rings from Harrison’s cigar, and left for the east coast. Before he left, Foster filled him in on the details of her eventual cross-country desertion, though there weren’t many. How he’d last seen her at the motel, a margarita wobbling in her palm, what she’d said to him, to stay special, that there weren’t many people like him left, and how she had vanished like vapour by the time they realized to check. While Reeve hiked across the country by herself, he and Lonan swam through nighttide and badly waltzed in a four-by-four bathroom. She made an anonymous life in New York City, hailing cabs with just her eyes, and learning the easiest ways to shoplift. Alone. Her last memory of Lonan one where he pretended to sleep so he didn’t have to say goodbye to her.

“Las Vegas the last time I saw him,” Harrison says. He feels the urge to apologize for something, to hug her, or cry. Though her expression unbends from severe back to her perfected mould of glitzy conviction, her momentary lapse into delicacy startles him. He looks back to the kittens who seem more interested in themselves than him.

Reeve tightens her grip around the neck of the wine bottle and tactfully sips, her pinkie erect, her lips pursed just the right amount. “What happened?” she asks and sets the bottle onto the coffee table. She lets a dribble of wine fall from her mouth so she can dab at it like a wounded animal.

Harrison and Reeve in the car:

Harrison brings the box with the dead kitten and Reeve brings the bottle of pinot noir. Together, they settle in her red Beetle convertible, a car she insists she pawned for a quarter its listing price, though he figures from the way she settles in it, carefully placing the wine bottle in the cup holder, wiping her hands on her thighs as if checking for grease, that it must belong to a roommate or boyfriend, if she has either. The car smells faintly of pineapple and vanilla, a scent not unfamiliar to him, the waft strengthening as the tree-shaped air-freshener swings closer to him with every turn.

Reeve asks vaguely of his time in the city, how life has been for him and his mother since they moved from Vegas in mid October. Her mouth flutters with speech, each word like the hull of a hard candy she specially tastes before sharing. Has it been marvellous, just as you thought? Don’t you ever wonder how a city could become so brilliant? Isn’t the weather maddening? Don’t you adore it? She asks about Foster, what living with him was like, what saying goodbye to him the week previous was like—was it tragic—and he could tell her his move in with him and his mother wasn’t much of a plan—not a last resort either, but a salvaging. A necessary resuscitation. Reeve’s lips as dubious as shadow puppets.

Here’s some of the flashback with Winona at the convenience store:

The woman stood under the hex of the convenience store’s light, spooling her in a feverish blue. The sun had been down for hours, but its residual heat clung to Harrison’s arms in tacky gusts that wound up his fingers. Like the woman, he reached for his cigarettes. Vehicles spun across the highway just beyond the gas station, and when he raised his head after lighting the cigarette, the woman was staring at him.

“Aren’t you too young to be out without a parent or guardian?” she asked. Her hair was the colour of his mother’s candlesticks, a waxy boxed red. Her rings waggled in the false light.

“Maybe,” he said, a curl of smoke looping out of his mouth. “Can’t remember which life I’m on. There are so many. I could be ninety-seven. Tomorrow might be my birthday.”

It was September in Las Vegas. White licks of car exhaust laced the black sky, and though it wasn’t cold, Harrison pulled his jacket tighter around his chest.

Winona tries to figure out whether or not Harrison is a local by getting to know his eyes/face lol:

Harrison dropped the butt of his cigarette and stomped out its embers. When it was fully out, he fit his hands into his jacket pocket and approached the woman. Up close, her trench coat was pebbled with lint, a bead from her charm bracelet missing. She crushed her cigarette too, and when her hands were free, she stepped toward him with both palms out, and pressed them to his cheeks so he felt both the heat of her skin and the watery bite of her jewelry. She examined each plane of his face as if they were sides of a prism. Her perfume, a vinegary sort of citrus, stung his eyes the closer she got, the fur of her jacket’s trim brushing his chin when she pressed to her toes for a better look.

“You could be so many things,” she said, tilting his jaw at the same moment her pinkie slid from the jab of his nose bridge to his top lip. She pushed her face closer to his and inhaled, her plastic nail marking his skin with a pixel of glitter. “You’ve got the face of an angel. Which means you’re good. You’re sacred. You’re discreet.” When her finger poked into his mouth, her knuckle snagged on his canines. “Could also mean you’re a fraud. A criminal. You know, Lucifer wasn’t always the fallen angel.”

A bit of the party:

Winona’s front lawn was manicured, cropped neat at its soil scalp. Clusters of people huddled in different places—four gargling in the stone fountain just before the iron gate, two drinking from three martini glasses at once, a group of on their backs, arms wound like a wicker basket, shot glasses teetering between their teeth like human serving tables.

Winona parked opposite the house that pulsed with light. Harrison got out when she did, and with ease, she punched into the gate, leading him past her perfect lawn, her party guests, as if they were simply garden statues.

Inside, more people concentrated, all stopping Winona for a moment to say hello as she passed. She moved in a way only the owner of a house would, her strides easy, like she knew exactly where to take him and when.

“I know it’s busy,” Winona said, adjusting her volume for the holler of party guests. “I promise it’s always like that. Who is it that says we need partners for life? God or my therapist? This is that but every week. You meet so many people.”

Harrison listened to her haphazardly. Though he’d been in Las Vegas for a month, he hadn’t been out except for a few errands at the grocery store or for cigarettes, despite his mother’s insistence he quit. The party was overwhelming. Bass from the stereo caught him by the throat and held him there as he and Winona threaded through her house that seemed closer to a mansion. The interior smelled like cleaning bleach and fruit cocktails, and he could hardly walk without someone rearing into him. He should’ve left, known better, done better, but it thrilled him, every moment of the party’s chokehold.

When Winona pushed through her French doors and out to the back pool, Harrison tailed her closely, unsure he’d be able to keep pace if he lost sight of her, even for a moment. The backyard smelled artificially floral, like orchids, tuberose, the grassy melt of citronella candles.

Some of my fave Harrison dialogue:

“You should’ve told me you were into vintage. Cheap but chic. I like it, angel.” Her ring finger smushed into his jaw, and then against his hairline.

“What’s vintage about me?”

Winona laughed, though her eyes remained glass-like. “Your jacket, of course. You’re thrifty. Into second-hand.”

~~theme makes an appearance:

It was only later, when he stumbled, bloody knuckled, through their front door, stepping over partygoers and martini glasses, that he understood. He hadn’t come to the party thinking about Lonan but managed to attract the same people. He hadn’t drunk the magenta liquid thinking about him but managed to exit the house stumbling, as he did, his knees knotted like a newborn lamb. There was something inconceivably indissoluble about them—their bond mirror-like, one making one decision, and the other mimicking it with vigour, unknowingly inseparable.

God tier denial:

“What do you miss about him?”

Harrison blinks. He hasn’t expected her to speak to him again, in fact he’s pictured the night whittling into gauzy silence, them setting the box afloat in the fountain, and then leaving once more, wordless. Reeve drinks another sip of wine. Its scent stings, like earthy cranberries.

“I don’t,” he says, which is a lie, and they both know it. Harrison has never been a good liar, but especially a bad liar around Reeve who’s always managed to snuff out the truth. She looks at him in absolutes, like she sees his every answer scraped into his cheek and doesn’t need to check his work. Her eyes are feline and rimmed with kohl and aquamarine mica—she doesn’t need anyone to tell her the truth because she holds it in her fist. “He has a girlfriend. He’s happy.” Harrison rations more wine down his tongue, three times as much as he’s intended to drink.

“But what do you miss about him?”

Harrison misses nothing. He sleeps little and smokes too much because he misses nothing. He walks by himself, eats by himself, talks to himself because he misses nothing. He jumps from job to job, person to person, place to place because he misses nothing. He wakes up in dazes the colour of blackberries because he misses nothing. He blinks dreams from his eyelashes like they’re bad spells because he misses nothing. He holds himself, he drinks himself, he leaves no company for anyone because he misses nothing about Lonan. He misses absolutely nothing.

Harrison sits up and lifts the dead kitten’s box. He feels Reeve’s gaze when he lowers it into the fountain, the box giving into the slosh of water, and feels her gaze once more when he sits back and drinks more wine. The moon makes him miserable, its silver gloat like a reminder, of how easy it would be to look at it and see Lonan’s face appear in its dime. He doesn’t register how much he drinks, just that it feels better than not drinking. He doesn’t register that Reeve never takes the bottle, that it’s just him and its open gape of wine. As the kitten swirls around the fountain, he tries not to think of its siblings back at the apartment, all mottled over each other like burrs. An unbreakable bond, and what that means, even as one of them sits alone, gurgling along the current of a fountain.

If you didn’t ask for angst before, you sure did now:

He does not remember falling asleep, and so waking up feels illusory, shimmery, like a mirage. He focuses on dart of yellow light and a man wearing a security uniform telling him he can’t be here, here being the garden, past the fence, under the fountain. Snowflakes have clumped against his eyelashes and he blinks twice to dislodge them. The man must ask him if he’s intoxicated, never noticing the shoebox floating in the fountain, because Harrison says, “Who’s to say? I miss so many things,” and isn’t talking about the bottle of wine or Reeve that both seem to have vanished, as if they were never there. Harrison blinks again, searching for Reeve’s outline somewhere in the crisp bushel of dead foliage, but she never reappears—has he imagined the entire thing, or is she magical, effervescent, invisible? What was the last thing she said? Drink it all. It’s good for you. It’s like your own personal healing tonic.

“Do you think it’s possible I was separated at birth?” Harrison asks the security guard, who leads him by the elbow out past the iron gate and into the parking lot where he stumbles over a patch of glazy slush and onto his knees.

“Are you a twin?”

Harrison draws his index finger through the slush, doodling nonsense—letters of his name, an eyeball, a singular, faceless nose. “I can’t stop thinking about him.”

“Your twin?”

Harrison shakes his head.

Snow and slush dredge his jeans and the hem of his jacket; a streetlamp filters him and the security guard in foamy yellow. His skin has numbed from sitting out in the cold too long, and in some places, prickles with heat, like the fritz of pine needles. Reeve has dissolved in the fresh spatter of snow that settles on the pavement, his fingers. The fur fringe of her hood gone, the slick of her boots. She will not be here tomorrow. He may never see her again, and yet this is not what makes him ache in the way he does.

His hands move for him. Dividing the snow in slopes, curves, lines—letters. When he’s finished, he rests his chin on his own shoulder and dries the slop of slush from his nail. The security guard leans over, bends down to get a better look, but Harrison doesn’t have to look to know what he’s written. Chiselled so the flurries fill its gaps, like cement. His name will be erased by dawn. Lonan.

So that’s it for this very, very long update! See you for chapter seven!

--Rachel

[shemakesmusic-uk]

TRACK BY TRACK BREAKDOWN: Daddy's Country Gold LP by Melissa Carper

Singer-songwriter and upright bassist Melissa Carper has released her new album Daddy's Country Gold today.

Carper’s refreshingly unique style calls to mind greats like Kitty Wells, Billie Holiday, and Loretta Lynn, beautifully conveyed in the grooves of the album’s 12 sparkling gems. Carper enlisted fellow bassist Dennis Crouch (The Time Jumpers) and producer/engineer Andrija Tokic (Alabama Shakes, Margo Price) to co-produce the album and bring her dream to life. Recorded live to tape at Tokic’s analog studio wonderland The Bomb Shelter in Nashville, the album features Crouch (bass), Chris Scruggs (guitar, steel guitar), Jeff Taylor (piano, organ, accordion), Matty Meyer (drums, percussion), Billy Contreras (fiddle), with guest appearances from Brennen Leigh, Sierra Ferrell, and legendary pedal steel maestro Lloyd Green.

Daddy’s Country Gold is a collection of glittering Carper originals of the country, western swing, and jazz variety. From the first notes of album opener 'Makin’Memories,' to the whimsical 'Would You Like To Get Some Goats,' and the heart-wrenching tenderness of album closer 'The Stars Are Aligned,' this lifetime of work, experience, and wanderlust culminates in a beautiful portrait of heartfelt music, written by a road-lovin’ gal who has lived these songs and spent her life playing music for folks that still love the real thing.

We asked Melissa to breakdown Daddy's Country Gold track-by-track to give us more insight into what the songs on the LP are about. Read it below.

Makin' Memories

Most of my songs' inspirations will come just from a beginning phrase or idea and then they will take off from that.  With 'Makin' Memories,' the inspiration came from a conversation I was having with a friend, they were joking about 'Makin' memories and keepin' your memories.'  I thought it was funny and a good song idea. The first line came to me, 'I'm makin' memories I'd like to remember.'  I always have a hard time remembering people's names, especially getting introduced to so many folks at shows and traveling all around, so thus 'Larry and Steve.'  Then, of course, there is the whole idea of not remembering what happened when you have had too much to drink, something I may have done a time or two. This is just a fun, lighthearted song that hopefully makes people chuckle.  I love Frank Sinatra and this song happened to take on a bit of that Sinatra flair.  

I Almost Forgot About You

The idea for 'I Almost Forgot About You' came from a weekend in which I had a very good time and had managed to forget about a love interest that I had been obsessing about. When I got back home that phrase came to me, 'I Almost Forgot About You,' and I realized I had a song there.  I just kind of tied in the various lost loves of my life to come up with the rest. The bridge for this song came later and sort of magically. I primarily write without an instrument in hand and develop the words and melody first and then I sit down and figure out the chords after.  This bridge I am particularly happy with the spaces and the way the phrasing waits. It came to me that way, and in fact, this entire song had a nice easy flow with the way it all came. I like it when that happens, feels like you are getting help from the universe.  

Back When

A lot of my songs are based on my real-life experiences, and with 'Back When,' every single word of that was lived and true. I started writing it a bit after a break up while longing for the relationship I once had with someone, that is--the beginning of the relationship when we were in love and everything was wonderful. It was written with a hopeful desire that things could be as they once were, and though that never happened, I feel like this song does have that hopeful air that maybe 'back when' could happen again, for any relationship that has lost that spark.  

Old Fashioned Gal

'Old Fashioned Gal' was inspired by spending some time in the beautiful country of West Virginia.  I did receive help from a West Virginian on the names of flowers and such.  Before writing it, I had been listening on Sirius radio to a station with old jazz tunes--if I remember correctly--while driving back from a long tour with the Carper Family.   Usually, if I listen to a certain style over and over, the next thing I write will have that influence.  Like I do with most of my songs, I developed the melody and lyrics first in my head and then sat down to find the chords on guitar.  It ended up having a surprising amount of chord changes in the chorus and changing in odd spots rhythmically, but that's what the melody dictated and I like the way it twists and turns and throws you a bit off-balance there in the chorus.  

You're Still My Love

'You're Still My Love' is just a sad love song and written from real-life experience. I had been listening to Jolie Holland before I wrote this one and I think it affected the embellishments in the melody.  Also, I think Patsy Cline came out, probably from listening so much to Patsy in my childhood.  This one wrote itself real quick and I remember camping and sleeping in the back of my van while writing it. 

Would You Like to Get Some Goats?

When I wrote 'Would You Like to Get Some Goats' I had a girlfriend at the time whose dream was to have a goat farm. I had fun with double-entendre and metaphors in this one.  And it kind of likens the commitment of getting goats with the commitment of marriage. I have heard goats are quite a commitment but they sure are cute when they are little babies.  

My Old Chevy Van

'My Old Chevy Van' is an emotional song for me.  I inherited my family's 1991 Chevy Van and had been driving it for six years or so when I moved from Arkansas to Austin, Texas in 2009.  I drove it around Texas for a year or two and then felt like it was time to sell it as maintenance was getting expensive and it got terrible gas mileage. I had lived in the van at various times, having a traveling lifestyle, and then there were all the memories it held from childhood. At the time of writing the song, both my mom and dad had already passed on. I had no idea when I sold this van how sad I would be because it had such a connection to them. I still wish I had not sold it and just kept it around as a guest house. The seats in back folded out to be a bed and it was quite comfortable to ride in with the luxury bucket seats. I named her 'Barbie' because the pink and purple paint job reminded me of my Barbie van I had growing up. I had been listening to Hazel Dickens a bunch when I wrote 'My Old Chevy Van' and I feel that was influential. This song needed a bridge and my old bandmate, Jan Bell (who knew Barbie), helped me find some lyrical ideas that fit just perfectly for the bridge.  

Arkansas Hills

I wrote 'Arkansas Hills' when I was driving back from a Christmas trip to Wisconsin. I started writing it around St. Louis and I did not have a smartphone to give me directions. I had probably scribbled some directions down or was looking at a map and I remember telling myself out loud a few times, so I would remember the highways, '44 West out of St. Louis to 65 South,' and then I thought to myself well that's a nice start to a traveling song. So I started writing it while I was driving down the road, and had it pretty much finished by the time I was pulling into 'my little log cabin' in Arkansas--except I didn't really live in a log cabin, but it sounds good in the song.  Donna Farar of Mountain View, Arkansas helped me write a fourth verse, which I felt the song needed.  Donna wrote all the lyrics to Willie's big hit 'The Last Thing I Needed the First Thing This Morning' and she actually lives in the middle of the woods in Arkansas in a cabin, so I felt that enlisting her help was a perfect choice.  

It's Better if You Never Know

'It's Better if You Never Know' is one of my more recent songs and it was inspired simply by a conversation with songwriters in Nashville at a table in a bar. Once I had moved to Nashville and began co-writing with some folks, I realized you can get a song idea at almost anytime if you are paying attention, just listening to a good phrase someone might say. In this instance, someone said 'It's Better if You Never Know' and someone else said that sounds like a good song. I started trying to write it the next day. I'm getting better at writing songs that don't necessarily have a link to me personally, however, I do believe when a song has that personal link it can have an extra emotional feeling that is conveyed to the listener.  

I'm Musing You

'I'm Musing You' came about while I was driving down the road on a road trip. I hadn't written a song in a while and was thinking about how I have often used the same muse or muses to create a song, by thinking back on old times. I thought to myself 'I need a new muse, I need to stop delving back into these old times.' And there was the song.  

Many Moons Ago

With 'Many Moons Ago,' a musician friend of mine used that phrase, many moons ago, and I thought wow I like that, people don't use that phrase much anymore, so I decided to write a song with the phrase. I had been listening to a Delmore Brothers tape over and over in my truck and, though I don't even remember the specific song, I know that something from that tape inspired the melody to 'Many Moons Ago.' Often times I will not know what I am copying or if I am copying something, but there is just something present in my consciousness that brings about a certain style or melody. This song doesn't have many lyrics, but I like the simple message it conveys that time does heal and growth occurs and you move on even when you feel you are dealing with something you can never get over.

The Stars Are Aligned

'The Stars Are Aligned' just came from the romantic feeling of a new relationship with a soulmate you have been waiting for. It flowed out just naturally from that first phrase, the 'Stars Are Aligned.' I love the way this one lends itself to a string section in the background, almost Disney princess-like, and I am so pleased with the lovely string parts on this recording. The string parts were written by my girlfriend and first-class fiddler, Rebecca Patek.

Photo credit: Aisha Golliher

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 31)

The smell of buttered, barbecue corn on the cobs mixed with the scent of burning firewood makes Mila’s mouth water like the cookie monster catching sight of chocolate chip cookies, as she and Juri make their way down the dark street.

“Can you smell that?” She asks Juri. “Smells nice, right?”

Juri nods eagerly and the blue eyes glistens hungrily. 

She’s holding a bottle of vodka in her right hand and Juri’s hand in her left as they struts down the street towards the bonfire and the sound of chatting people. Juri’s dressed up in a knitted sweater, sent from mama in Russia for his second birthday. The shirt was way too big for a two year old, so Mila left it in a drawer until they had to leave, to escape when all hell broke loose. It’s maroon with white, traditional pattern over the chest. 

“Are you excited?” Mila asks as they pass Jessie’s house, and a sad feeling overwhelms her. Poor Jessie. She shifts her focus from the now empty house to Juri, who nods at her. “Yeah. Me too. It might be fun. You remember the barbecues at Ellie’s and Joe’s?” Juri nods once again. Of course he remembers ‘grams’ and ‘gramps’. It felt weird to Mila that he knew her foster parents better than his real grandmother, whom he called ‘baba’. But baba was always baba. Juri gestures at her, expresses a feeling of longing for the three of them. “I miss them too, Malysh.” She smiles. “Think about the barbecue.”

That’s a thought that cheers both of them up. Mila loves barbecues. She has experienced several very different variants of the event during her short lifetime. Hot summer evenings at the Dacha at home in Russia, when the whole neighborhood gathered from the surrounding summer cottages in the largest garden and built a barbecue of old brick or sheet metal. Everyone contributed food and the vodka was lined up on a table. They danced, sang, there was always someone playing the accordion and some dexterous ribbons of wreaths. The smell of smoke settled deep in the clothes, but it did not matter, it was part of the experience itself. It was so easy and homely. In the wee hours, when half the vodka ration was consumed, there could be both hopak dancing and sniping. During the autumn harvest, people also grilled, especially during forest excursions and mushroom picking. Mama fried mushrooms over an open fire while papa boned fish. In the winter, they did the same thing, dressed up in several layers of clothes and fur hats. Their breaths stood like ice clouds from their mouths, but they didn’t freeze and the fire kept their cheeks glowing hot. 

In the States, she got to experience a different kind of barbecue, not as folksy, but still nice in that American, exaggerated way. Joe Galka owned a Weber grill, a piece as big as a piano, Mila thought, to which he was very attached. He could grill most things. In the summers there was a barbecue almost every weekend and friends and family were invited. Mila’s, Billy’s and Adam’s friends were always invited. Even in the States, people brought food to the festivities; meringue pies, apple pies, ribs dripped with sauce, mashed potatoes, salads and god knows what. Significantly less strong booze than the Russian festivities, but all the more pale beer; disgusting Corona and Budweiser, that the middle-aged men, gathered around Joe’s grill, wearing the same type of cargo shorts and short-sleeved shirts, happily sipped. And sniping was out of the question in the suburbs. When Mila met Jim and they went on hikes just the two of them, Mila went in childhood. They grilled over an open fire in the woods, or at a beach, using firewood and matches, an old frying pan and some simple tools. They brought food, coffee, booze and, God forbid, a big bag of marshmallows. Jim loved those grilled, melting sugar bombs, while Mila couldn’t stand them, instead preferring grilled fruit with a little honey and cinnamon. Then they picked out the guitar and the harmonica and sat there, playing and singing Creedence, country and other great songs, in the light of the fire, drinking booze, hearing the waves smoothly run into the sandy shore, the leves rattle in the breeze. 

Despite the fact that Mila sees herself as an established barbecue visitor by now, after exploring her way through several barbecue cultures, this is a new version. Post-apocalyptic barbecue. 

“Wonder what food we get, except for potatoes and corn.” Mila says. Juri chuckles at the thought of an all potato and corn barbecue. “Maybe some-” Mila thinks. “Green beans? Tomatoes? Oh, and what if they have found some broccoli! You’d like that.” 

Earlier in the day, Mila took Juri out outside the safe zone and went on a journey of discovery in a direction they had not previously gone. After 1,2 miles they came to an open field which Mila immediately recognized as a vast potato field. There were a few, ravaged plants sticking out of the soil, but the chance that there were a lot of potatoes hidden underneath was huge. She let out a roar of joy at the discovery and frightened a couple of birds that angrily lifted from the untouched, rugged earth, and flew away to calmer lands. Some distance away, a barn loomed and Mila purposefully steered her steps towards the grayish-brown building, where the paint had begun to flake from the walls. She pushed open the door and went in, made sure that no walkers were lurking before releasing Juri from the harness and instructing him to search for potato sacks, and other useful things. Mila found the potato sacks, while Juri found a rusty shovel. They returned to the field and Mila began scanning the earth for a potentially lush piece to start digging on. Then she started digging, while Juri began to scrape the ground by hand. The sweat evaporated from her forehead, but being out there in the big field with Juri, performing body work, created an endorphin surcharge within her she hadn’t known for a long time. She felt alive. The smell of the earth, the still breeze and the sound of the shovel shaft digging into the ground. It was agrarian, made her homesick for Russia, to the Russian countryside. Sure, it was barren and vast beyond infinity, but she loved it. Her strong, Russian soul needed an outlet right there and then. Mila started singing. A hair-raising, Russian partisan song, something her grandfather sang for her as a child. Then she needed to cheer up the mood a bit, so she started singing “Panic” by The Smiths instead. Whether it was merry was questionable, but the melody was catchy. She then went down on her knees and started to dig with her hands in the soil. Suddenly she felt something in the ground, and triumphantly she pulled out the lower part of a potato plant, where surely eight or ten potatoes were still attached, and they looked really good!

“Jackpot!” Mila exclaimed. 

While digging and tearing up cluster after cluster of potatoes, Mila and Juri talked about all the good potato dishes they could now make, making their mouth water with saliva. Potato gratin, fried potatoes with dill, moussaka with potatoes, one of their absolute favorites. They stopped digging after a sack was filled. Mila had to carry it home, and the sack probably weighed well over 30 kilos, so they stopped working and decided to come back another day, by car. 

“Sorry, malenkiy. Time to use your legs.” said Mila, hoisting the sack onto her shoulder, next to the rucksack. Well, time to use mine as well, she thought and felt the heavy bag weighing her down. If Grandma could carry two full buckets of water from the well twice a day for seventy years, I should be able to carry thirty kilos of potatoes back to Alexandria.

Thank goodness she had tough, lanky muscles. And they didn’t run into anyone on the way back. Soaked in sweat and back inside the Alexandria walls, Mila dropped the heavy bag in front of Carol in the kitchen. Carol looked as if she could not believe her eyes at the sack. Mila went and took a much-needed shower, while Carol and Juri started peeling potatoes. She then helped Rick chop wood. 

“Ya’ good at this.” Rick said as Mila, once again dripping with sweat after that very unnecessary shower, easily split firewood after firewood with the other ax.

“It may sound like a stereotype, but in Russia you learn this early in life, if you do not want to freeze to death.” Mila huffed and wiped her forehead on her arm. “Grandma and grandpa didn’t have electricity. Then you had to chop wood.”

She took a second shower an hour later, and got herself and Juri dressed up in, not fancy clothes, but clean ones, not covered in soil, dirt and potato peel. In front of the mirror she inspected the scar after the wolves machete. It was still red and bumpy, but had healed nicely, a slight miracle since she hadn’t been taking care of it nearly as well as Denise told her to. She then stepped into a pair of blue, worn jeans and ripped a top over her head. While Juri brushed his hair, Mila inspected him and cracked open a bottle of vodka. 

She’s accustomed to pre-parties and has been an avid supporter of the phenomenon since her teenage years; never arrive sober to a party, or a funeral, or anything really if you’re an alcoholic like Mila.

She looks at the brand new bottle of Russian standard in her hand, contemplating if she should sweep it at the spot to increase her chances of ‘mingle and jingle’. Before she turns thought into action Maggie comes up at her right side. 

“One could think everything was somewhat- I dunno, pre- all this.” Maggie says and lifts her eyebrows underneath the side swept brown hair.

“Feels odd.” Mila admits. “Nice, but strange. Be happy you don’t feel sick yet. The barbecue smell would kill you.”

Maggie looks down at the grey tank top underneath the checked shirt, smiles at the sight of her own stomach. It’s not prominently pouting yet, but in a few weeks it won’t be possible to hide the bump. 

“Can’t wait.” Maggie replies ironically and nods towards the vodka bottle.

“You’re prepared for disaster or what?”

“Mouth water.” Mila says simply. “Bad breath.”

“Might be because of the mouth water.” Maggie grins as they catch sight of the bonfire and the Alexandrians, gathered around it. Maggie sniffs in the air as a puff of grilled meat comes their way. “Okay, I’m starting to get really hungry. Holy moly.”

“Preggers cravings.” Mila teases at the same time as she sees Abraham walking towards them, dressed in a button down shirt for the occasion underneath his jacket. “Looking sharp.” She greets him as he reaches the three of them. His red hair burns even brighter in the light of the flames from the fire. 

“Gotta make the best of the opportunity. It’s a party.” He smiles and places a big, bearded kiss on her cheek and gives Maggie a warm hug before he squats and holds up his big palm towards Juri. “High five, little man.” Juri slams his small hand into the big man’s and looks really happy. “Heard ya’ found the potatoes.” Abraham says excitedly. “Great job, dude!” 

Maggie and Mila look at each other. Yup, Juri’s the hero and Mila’s the burro, carrying the goodies more than 1,2 miles back to Alexandria. Nah, I can handle it, she thinks as she sees Juri’s proud grin, being the potato boss for the night. 

“Come on, Romeo.” Mila starts walking towards the fire, that lures her towards its glowing sphere of heat and safety, awakening something primitive within her, a feeling that fire equals safety. 

All of the Alexandria residents seem to be attending. Even Carl sits on a log, dragged in front of the fire, next to Aaron and Morgan. His head is wrapped up and he looks a million times better than two days ago. The color has returned to his cheeks and the sheriffs hat rests homely at the brown curls. Mila smiles at the sight. Rick appears in her field of sight at the same time. He looks fresh out of the shower and as he approaches she clearly feels a faint scent of men’s perfume. 

“Carol’s over the moon with the potatoes.” He greets her as he stops in front of her. 

“Glad I could contribute.” Mila says. “Where’s Daryl?” She looks around, searches for the broad man on the other side of the bonfire and in the shadows, but he’s nowhere to be seen. “I haven’t seen him today.” 

Rick shrugs a little, as to say ‘who knows’. 

“Come on.” He nods with his head to the side. “Let’s get ya’ beer.”

“Great.” 

While Juri runs off on his own, around the bonfire to sit with Carl, Mila follows Rick over to a table, set with beer and soda. Michonne’s leaning up against the table top with a Coke in her hand, probably mixed up to a Jack and Coke if Mila knows her right, talking to Sasha and Eugene, who, judging by the strong scent, have bathed himself in shaving water. Carol, an Alexandrian woman and Denise sets the table with bowls of food. Mila’s astonished over the amounts of different dishes and sides they managed to put together for the evening. Sasha and Abraham went on a run and found an abandoned greenhouse, which hid all sorts of vegetables that miraculously survived on their own during the apocalypse. Another group of Alexandrians went fishing and also ran upon a few bewildered chickens, who had to sacrifice their lives for the sake of the festivities. 

“The wall’s coming along nicely.” Mila says as she lets her gaze wander to the wall, where the big gaping hole where the church tower crashed through about a week ago. The debris is all gone and the hole is temporarily fixed with a few cars, but the structure that's supposed to become the new, reinforced wall, is already appearing. 

“It’s gonna be solid.” Eugene says and nods, trying his absolute best to seem cool about it. 

Mila’s been amused by him ever since he introduced himself to her; he’s intelligent, awkward and quite strange, but he certainly entertains her with all his clumsiness and strange talking. Despite her nearly ten years in the States, language is still the biggest challenge. Mila’s still learning new words and expressions and Eugene has undoubtedly made it a challenge for her to understand what he’s saying from time to time.

“Yippie.” Mila preaches as Rick puts a beer bottle in her hand. She takes it and chugs the bottle immediately, feeling a sudden rush of intense thirst only an alcoholic can feel in the presence of beer and booze. The intellectual with the prominent mullet stares at her as she takes the last sip of the bottle and puts it away. His expression pokes at her shenanigan-nerve, fuck she has to mess a little with him. “I’m into some real kinky shit after five bottles.” She therefore says and grins wolf-like at Eugene. 

Eugene’s cheeks turn red like the fire next to him and he swallows. Michonne laughs into her can and both Rick and Sasha grins, struggling not to laugh. Mila reaches forward and pats poor Eugene on the arm.

“Just fucking with you.” She says and blinks. “Cheers.” And she opens the vodka bottle and offers him the first sip. “Here, it’s good for the nerves.”

“You’re a real tearaway.” Sasha says and breaks off the cap on a new Corona light.

“Extremely poor impulse control.” Mila takes back the vodka bottle and takes a bountiful sip, once again feeling the deep sense of thirst down her throat. “It gets worse with age, I notice.” She peeks behind Sasha at the table. “So, what’s for dinner?” 

Carol, who happens to hear her question, comes up to the group at the table, holding a pie between the oven mittens.

“A real feast, that’s for sure.” She explains and puts the pie down. “Ribs, chicken, fish, vegetables, potatoes. Daryl must’ve hit the jackpot, he brought back an entire forest.” Carol smiles and removes the checked oven mittens from her hands. “And pie for dessert.”

“Are we celebrating something?” Sasha says. 

“Being alive?” Michonne taps her fingers at the can.

“Anyone having their birthday soon, or just had? That could be a reason.” Eugene suggests. 

“Don’t even know what date it is.” Mila says and takes another sip of the vodka. “Mine’s in June.”

“Gotta celebrate something.” Eugene continues.

“How ‘bout-” Rick begins. “A party for those who can’t be here.”

“A death party?” Mila raises her eyebrows at Rick. 

“That’s morbid.” Sasha wrinkles her nose.

“Could work.” Mila continues. “Russian funerals often turn into parties. At first people cry something incredibly for hours and hours and hours- Then you drink until you can’t feel feelings anymore.”

“Sounds even more weird.” Eugene expresses. “I like Rick’s idea better.” 

“I’m gonna drink anyway.” Mila snorts and continues to drink. At least she’s dressed up somewhat properly for a funeral reception; black top, black leather jacket and, yeah the fedora might be questionable, but at least she wears black boots! 

They sit down and eat when Aaron, Glenn, Rosita and Gabriel have sliced the grilled meat and put it on the buffet table. Juri’s plate is filled with potatoes and vegetables as well as Mila’s and he’s got a juice box safely placed between his cute feet. They sit on a log with Rick and Carol; eating, drinking and talking while the fire crackles, the cicadas sing behind the wall. The sky above them is starry and the sparks from the fire rises towards the gleaming stars, millions of lightyears away. But Daryl is nowhere to be seen. Where the hell is he? Mila looks around every now and then, but Rick assures her that he’s alright. Why wouldn’t he? To calm her mind, she empties the vodka bottle and runs to get another one, just as the party attendants does a turn two at the buffet.

“Ey, look who’s back.” Rick suddenly says and looks at Mila- no, over her shoulder, behind her. 

Mila turns on the log and looks behind her. Daryl comes walking down the street towards them. In the warm light of the fire Mila can see that he’s fine, unharmed, but holds something behind his back. She gets up from the log, a movement that makes the others pause their conversations and laughter to look at her. Mila gets ready to give him a scolding, but Daryl’s facial expression makes her change her mind. It’s soft, somewhat gawky, but yet soft and not stern and grumpy. It strikes her there and then that he hasn’t looked surly at all lately, at least not while looking at her. She takes a step over the log and walks to meet him. The wrinkle created between her eyebrows softens as he stops in front of her in the light of the big fire. 

“Where’ve you been?” She asks and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Had a thing to do.” He says and screws a little, but keeps his back straight. “I’m here now.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Mila looks him straight in the eyes. “But where were you? I was worried.”

Instead of giving her a verbal answer, Mila has come to understand Daryl’s idea, that words are unnecessary sometimes well by now. He takes out what he’s hiding behind his back, and holds it out for her. A guitar. An acoustic sunburst Epiphone, with engraved flowers on the pickguard. Mila stares at the beautiful instrument as Daryl hands it over to her; the shimmery pearly detailing in the maple neck, steel strings and rosewood details. She lifts her gaze and looks at Daryl in awe. 

“Though ya’d like it.” Daryl looks at her, not sure if she’s happy or disappointed. “Ya’ said ya’ played.” 

Yeah, yes she did say that. But she didn’t think he’d remembered. She can’t speak. Instead, Mila wraps her arms around his neck, with the guitar’s neck still in a firm grip. The last time she got a guitar, it was Jim who surprised her with one. He blindfolded her and drove her to the music store where he led her in, like a blind. Mila stumbled on the threshold and tore off her blindfold, red in the face with anger over his shenanigans. But the anger ran off when she saw where she was.

“Pick one.”

“Pick what?”

“A guitar.” Jim reached out his arms to his side, to the guitars hanging around the walls of the shop. “Whatever one you want.”

Mila picked a light sunburst Fender that time. It was left behind in Brooklyn along with Jim’s old, trusted Gibson. At least their guitars were together. 

“Thank you.” Mila whispers into his ear and releases her grip around Daryl’s neck.

It’s one of the finest, most thoughtful gifts she has received in a long time. She squeezes the neck and admires the wooden piece. He really went off and found her a guitar. Around them, the other inhabitants have paused whatever they’re doing, to look at them. Abraham is the one that finally breaks the silence, still chewing on a glazed rib.  

“Well, whatcha waitin’ for? Play it, Jersey.” He points at the guitar with the bone.

Her mouth turns into a wide grin. My God, she hasn’t played in awhile and the guitar isn’t even tuned. She takes Daryl’s hand, intervenes her fingers with his and drags him off to the overturned log, steps over it and sits down next to Juri, who looks overjoyed with the possibility of some live music. Her number one fan. Daryl sits down next to her and Carol hands him a plate of food. It’s like someone pressed ‘play’. Everyone starts talking to each other again, eating and drinking, just as before Daryl appeared with the guitar. While Daryl eats, Mila begins to tune the guitar, at the same time as she gets meaningful glances from both Maggie and Carol, who blink at her.

“I did not know you played guitar.” Says Carl and looks wide-eyed at the guitar.

“I'm full of surprises.” Mila smiles cheeky at him.

“Can you make requests?” Rick says and takes a sip of his Corona.

“Depends on the request.” Mila replies. She knows that Rick has a similar taste in music as she; they have more than once hummed along to the same country songs while working, so he won’t have to be disappointed. “I’m a little rusty.” And not nearly drunk enough to feel completely at ease with performing in front of these people, she thinks and looks around. For some reason this is different than before. Different from the bars and the family gatherings with the Galka’s and Jim. “I’ll punch you if any of you say Wonderfall.” Mila squints her eyes at her crowd as she tunes the low E-string, considering the guitar to be in playable condition. 

“Thought it was Wonderwall?” Glenn looks at Maggie, slightly confused.  

“I’ll punch you.” Mila places her fingers on the cold steel strings and strikes a loop of chords, searching for a melody. She quickly finds the sound she’s looking for; huh, she wasn’t that rusty after all. With her tongue in between her teeth she starts playing something random.  

The sheriff's tapping boot is enough for her to pick Rick as her target. 

“Come on, I’m not doing it on my own.”

Rick takes a sip of beer, chuckles a little. But Mila’s serious. As is Michonne. 

“Do it Sheriff.” Michonne bumps Rick in the side. “We got ya’ back.”

Mila doesn’t wait for an answer. He won’t be able to resist later on. She adjusts the guitar on her leg and starts playing a tune, praying to some higher power that her voice won’t break. 

“As long as I remember, the rain's been comin' down. Clouds of mystery pourin', confusion on the ground. Good men through the ages, tryin' to find the sun. And I wonder, still I wonder, who'll stop the rain-”

She gets chills down her spine as she manages to pull the Creedence classic off pretty decently, sitting at the log between the men in her life, surrounded by her new family. Just as when she performed it at that bar with Jim that first time she performed like that in her life, a couple of years ago. She vomited into a bin before going on stage, or more like a corner with a rug of the small, crowded bar in Brooklyn, but as soon as she had the guitar in her hands and started singing, she felt calm, secure. Jim used to say it was a miracle she learned to play the guitar at the pace she did, having only played piano and the violin during her childhood. Guitars was a dumb instrument, according to her papa. Pff, what did he know? Prison was for dumb people, and look where he was? Mila lets the chord die after the last “-and I wonder, still I wonder, who'll stop the rain?”, then continues with Springsteen.  

“On a rattlesnake speedway in the Utah desert, I pick up my money and head back into town. Driving 'cross the Waynesboro county line, I got the radio on and I'm just killing time-”

She notices Daryl’s gaze in the corner of her eyes, just as she notices Juri’s nodding head and Abraham saying, mids a chuckle of delighted surprise: 

“I’ll be damn.” 

It’s like inviting all of them into a very special place of herself, a place where she can be something else than a mom, a dental nurse and a girl with a broken past. With a deep, lingering gaze, she tries to communicate that to Daryl, as a way of explaining her trust in him. To her, music is medicine for the soul and the heart. A heritage she has passed on to Juri when giving him the walkman for his birthday. 

“The dogs on Main Street howl, 'Cause they understand. If I could take one moment into my hands, mister I ain't a boy, no I'm a man. And I believe in a promised land-”

She removes her fingers from the strings and the chord echoes out into the night, blends in with the cheering. She’s warmed up now, overflown with the rush of happy adrenaline playing the guitar causes her, just as the applause makes her blush. Okay, let's go with something happy, she thinks.

“Here’s a lil' something to cheer ya’ll up.” She says in her most convincing country-voice, puts her fingers into a ‘G’ and: “Daddy won a radio and tuned it to a country show, I was rockin' in the cradle to the cryin' of a steel guitar-”

It takes Rick ten seconds to hear what song it is, he knows his country music. He jumps into the chorus, at first doubtfully, but encouraged by both Carl and Abe, who have taken out a cigar from his jacket, he seems to think ‘what the hell’, and sings a little louder, with more feeling. And it’s fun.

“Singin 'in the bars and- Chasin' that neon rainbow, livin 'that honky tonk dream.' Cause all I've ever wanted, is to pick this guitar and sing. Just tryin 'to be somebody, just wanna be heard and seen. I'm chasin 'that neon rainbow, livin' that honky tonk dream- “

He continues to sing with her as Mila follows up with the Beatles “Rocky Raccoon”, but lets her continue on her own after that, with both “Thunder road” and a country version of “I’m on fire”.

“Your accent disappears when you sing.” Maggie says as Mila takes a few sips of vodka. 

“Yeah I haven’t figured the reason for that out yet.” Mila wipes her mouth on the back of her hand as she grabs the guitar again, her fingertips pulsating from having to work the strings again. “But singing country with an accent would sound weird, I guess? Okay, one last one.” 

She ends her one woman-show, which could just as well be seen as therapy for her musically starving soul, with Kate Bush’s “Running up that hill”, as the flames from the fire licks the now pitch black sky, sprinkled with millions, billions of stars.   

“Say, if I only could, I'd be running up that hill. With no problems…”

Taglist: @lonewolf471 @twdeadfanfic

[neerasrealm]

got any random hcs for slendra, michael, and/or rosemary?

AN ASK ABOUT MY OCS I’M GONNA (NOCLIPS THROUGH THE FLOOR)

I of course have a lot of hcs for all of em so I’ll go section by section uvu

Michael

He wanted to be a carpenter before he done got possessed

He gets anxious when it’s too quiet, and will often make noises himself to fill the silence (snapping fingers, clicking tongue, humming loudly, etc)

He uses a noise machine to sleep

He doesn’t really talk much unless spoken to, he’ll only really hold long conversations with Kirstie and Owen

Speaking of Kirstie and Owen, I should really talk about them more since y’all only know them as ‘the ghost friends’

The three of them have known each other since they were kids

Owen was and still is the baby brother of the group

Kirstie is basically the mom friend. She was always a very positive and supportive person, and probably the smartest one too lol

Kirstie had two dads

Owen was never super talkative, but when it’s a topic he likes he can talk a lot

Michael is very uncomfortable with letting other people have control of his body because of trauma (obviously), but Kirstie sometimes forcibly takes control when Michael won’t take care of himself

Owen only really gets control when Ben invites him to play videogames

Owen can get really into games, they’re one of the few things that can make him angry or excited

Kirstie LOVES sports. She used to play volleyball when she was alive

When she gets control everyone just has to deal with Michael, the quiet guy who lives in the basement, suddenly being peppy and friendly

Michael doesn’t eat much, especially not desserts, but he has a soft spot for ice cream.

His room is FULL of empty bottles and cans. Man stays hydrated. He drinks ridiculous amounts of la croix because he has no will to live

Slendra

She is simply BABY

She took Sally’s place as the baby of the family LOL

Her love for bow ties is INTENSE. She likes bows just- in general, but you’d never catch her dead without a bowtie on. She collects them, much like how Slender collects ties.

She loves striped patterns

She loves singing and music of any kind. She plays piano and accordion, and is trying to learn the harmonica and ukulele

She has the tiniest smidge of Jack’s accent and occasionally uses cockney slang

Slender dies inside every time he hears Slendra call the mansion ‘’th’ gaf.’’

She’s oddly maternal towards some of her siblings. She takes after Slender and is often the only braincell of the group.

She loves doing cartwheels and things. Jack taught her all his tricks

She’s oddly protective of Jeff specifically. She’s protective of everyone but Jeff she’s just- big sister. Even though he’s 12 years older than her.

Ok this isnt a hc but I wanted to talk about why I went with the ‘demons age twice as fast as humans’ aspect of her character.

When making her I couldn’t decide if Slendra should be responsible older sister figure with a good sense of humour and love for comedy or if she should be a young girl who’s scared of her powers and always sticking by Slender’s side, with Jack trying to teach her confidence.

I eventually decided to blend both, making Slendra physically a teen but mentally closer to a child. I wanted this to represent that she’s innocent, but forced to grow up faster than she should’ve because of Zalgo being- well- her dad.

LetSlendraBeAKid2020 

Rosemary

I HAVE NEVER ONCE PICTURED HER IN MY HEAD WITHOUT HER FACE BEING O-O

BLINK MOTHERFUCKER BLINK!!!!

Ok but seriously-

Even if she doesn’t talk everyone can communicate with her pretty well

‘’...’

‘’No Rose I’m not making steak for dinner.’‘

I’ve said before that she takes the heads from her victims but she also takes a few bones and whatever else she feels like

What does she do with them? ... :)

Don’t go in her room there’s dead things and bones EVERYWHERE

It’s gross. Jason yells at her to clean up. She flips him off

She often leaves Zalgo’s realm just to go watch birds

She believes herself to be above humans and animals but birds? Birds are the one creature she respects

She believes herself to be a chosen one, in a way, because of Zalgo ‘choosing her’

She thinks she’s above other people but is completely subservient to Zalgo

Zalgo often calls her ‘my little lamb’ because of her last name which literally means ‘lamb of god’, the fact that she’s child sized and- y’know- Zalgo is a god.

She often paints her nails :) Nat and Jane let her join their girl’s nights (Zero is there too but only sometimes)

I haven’t decided if this is fully 100% canon yet but I like the idea of her being age-locked by Zalgo much like Nat and Jason are. I haven’t decided how old she is exactly, but I like the idea that she’s been around a while

uhh that’s all I have time to write down rn but!! I loved talking abt these guys...OC asks make me so happy you don’t even know sdfjfsdjf thank u anon

[sciatu]

Il Frantioio su www.homeway.it

Era un siciliano strano. Era alto, vestito con una camicia di lino costosissima e un jeans firmato come le scarpe che portava. Lo precedeva un costoso profumo di Armani o forse Dolce e Gabbana con un sentore di limone. Aveva i capelli scurissimi pettinati tutti all’indietro e tenuti in quella posizione da una cera che li rendeva lucidi, Gli occhi erano scuri come i capelli e i baffetti  a vederli erano ridicoli. Sembrava nel complesso Marcello Mastroianni nel film “Divorzio all’italiana”, preciso uguale al barone uxoricida. In aggiunta sull’avambraccio braccio sinistro, abbastanza muscoloso per rivelare che non aveva mai studiato, c’era il tatuaggio di una trinacria, quasi in evidenza. Lei pensò che sembrava quasi ostentare il fatto che era siciliano, cosa che generalmente nessun isolano ha bisogno di evidenziare. Si presentò all’appuntamento di fronte casa sorridendo chiedendo se voleva parlare in inglese, francese o tedesco. Lei scelse l’inglese e lui incominciò in un inglese con l’accento delle città del nord dell’Inghilterra. “vieni – disse sorpassando le due colonne gialle dell’ingresso - questo è un antico frantoio della mia famiglia. Vedi laggiù dove c’è la piscina? li c’era una cisterna d’acqua che in siciliano chiamiamo con una parola araba “Gebbia”. L’acqua viene dalla sorgente che era l’unica ricchezza della mia famiglia. Con essa davamo acqua agli ulivi quando serviva e loro ci davano delle ulive grosse e paffute piene di succo. Entra. Il soffitto è ancora con i tronchi di secoli fa, la dispensa è quella vecchia della nonna e dove c’è il divano c’era il frantoio: due grosse pietre tonde mosse da Ciccio, il piccolo asino che avevamo. Vieni - disse salendo al piano superiore - questo è ancora il letto dei nonni. Allora i materassi erano pieni di un’erba che sembrava crine di cavallo ma che d’estate teneva freschi. D’inverno scendevamo al paese perché nessuno poteva stare nella casa piena di spifferi. Quando il lavoro era tanto e nonni e genitori lavoravano fino a tardi, io salivo fino quassù e dormivo nel materasso pieno di gobbe con Lampu, il nostro cane. Vieni, andiamo in cucina. Il portapiatti è quello della nonna. L’ho recuperato pulendolo e dipingendolo. Il lavabo è una pietra che il nonno ha trovato quassù e che ha scavato con le sue mani. Lui era forte, aveva due braccia grosse ed enormi. Mio padre mi ha detto che partito per la guerra e non è più tornato. Mio padre prese il suo posto e continuò a fare olio. DI la si esce nel patio. Qui mettevamo le olive ad asciugare prima di spremerle. Lì c’era un enorme tavolo dove mangiavamo nelle feste. Eravamo trenta e a volte quaranta parenti. Un signore che chiamavamo ziù Peppe suonava la fisarmonica così che a volte ballavamo. Vieni. Da qui si vede il mare e quando c’è il tramonto capisci che questo posto è magico e che andare via è un peccato mortale”. Restò un minuto in silenzio con lo sguardo perso nell’insenatura che avevamo di fronte. “Io sono andato via presto. Eravamo troppi per poter vivere decentemente. Ho fatto il cameriere in Germania, il pizzaiolo a Lione ed ora ho un ristorante a Glasgow e non ho problemi di soldi. Sono tornato e ho comprato dai miei fratelli la loro quota della casa e l’ho arredata come vedi. Qui intorno vi sono solo case vuote e anche al paese vi sono case in cui ormai da anni non vive nessuno. Ora se dovessi far venire i miei a mangiare quassù, basterebbe un tavolo piccolo piccolo. Per questo l’affitto per le vacanze. Non mi interessano i soldi, voglio che la casa torni a vivere.” Tornò a stare in silenzio con lo sguardo perso ad osservare il mare dove le barche partivano per la pesca con la lampara. Era un siciliano molto strano

He was a strange Sicilian. He was tall, dressed in a very expensive linen shirt and designer jeans like the shoes he wore. An expensive Armani perfume or perhaps Dolce and Gabbana with a hint of lemon preceded him. He had very dark hair combed all back and held in that position by a wax that made them shiny, the eyes were dark as hair and the mustache to see them were ridiculous. He seemed on the whole Marcello Mastroianni in the film "Italian Divorce", exactly the same as the Uxoricidal baron. In addition on the forearm left arm, muscular enough to reveal that he had never studied, there was a tattoo of a trinacria, almost in evidence. She thought it almost seemed to flaunt the fact that he was Sicilian, which generally no islander needs to highlight. He showed up at the appointment in front of the house, smiling, asking if he wanted to speak in English, French or German. She chose English and he began in English with the accent of the cities of northern England. "Come - he said passing the two yellow columns of the entrance - this is an ancient oil mill of my family. See over there where the pool is? there was a water cistern which in Sicilian we call with the Arabic word "Gebbia". The water comes from the spring which was the only wealth of my family. With it we gave water to the olive trees when needed and they gave us big and plump olives full of juice. Come in. The ceiling is still with the trunks of centuries ago, the pantry is the old one of the grandmother and where there is the sofa there was the oil mill: two large round stones moved by Ciccio, the little donkey we had. Come - he said going upstairs - this is still the bed of the grandparents. Back then the mattresses were full of grass that looked like horsehair but kept cool in summer. In winter we went down to the village because nobody could stay in the drafty house. When there was a lot of work and grandparents and parents worked late, I went up here and slept on the mattress full of humps with Lampu, our dog. Come on, let's go to the kitchen. The plate holder is that of the grandmother. I recovered it by cleaning and painting it. The sink is a stone that grandfather found up here and he dug with his own hands. He was strong, had two big and huge arms. My father told me I left for the war and never came back. My father took his place and continued to make oil. From here you go out onto the patio. Here we put the olives to dry before squeezing them. There was a huge table where we ate at parties. We were thirty and sometimes forty relatives. A gentleman we called Ziu Peppe played the accordion so we sometimes danced. Come. From here you can see the sea and when there is sunset you understand that this place is magical and that leaving it is a mortal sin. " He remained silent for a minute with his gaze lost in the inlet in front of us. “I left early. We were too many to live decently. I was a waiter in Germany, a pizza chef in Lyon and now I have a restaurant in Glasgow and I have no money problems. I came back and bought their share of the house from my brothers and I furnished it as you see. Here around there are only empty houses and also in the village there are houses where no one has lived for years. Now if I had to bring my relatives up here to eat, a small table would be enough. For this I rent the house for the holidays. I don't care about money, I want the house to come back to life.” He went back to being silent with his gaze lost, looking at the sea where the boats left for fishing. He was a very strange Sicilian

[celestialsblues]

So, I saw Hadestown yesterday and so I wanted to point out some cool stuff in the show that I saw. This is in absolutely no order.

- The candle Eurydice lights stays lit until Hermes blows it out when she goes down to Hadestown

- The Fates literally circle around people like vultures and are almost constantly moving around and in and out of the stage when they’re in a scene, all of their choreography is really cool

- The fight choreography for Papers is awesome, there’s a part where Orpheus basically jumps up and falls back onto the workers and they carry him for a bit kind of upside down and it’s sick. They pull him by the suspenders a couple times too. I was not expecting to like Papers as much as I did

- I don’t think the OBCR captures just how sad Eurydice sounds in Flowers like, she looks like she’s on the verge of tears almost the entire song it made me want to start crying myself

- How in Epic III the workers start to take off their caps and look out at the audience to show how they can finally see again and want to work with Orpheus

- All of Epic III, just everything is so good

- This has nothing to do with the show but shout out to the ushers at the Walter Kerr theater for being so nice, ya’ll are awesome 

- Speaking of the Walter Kerr it is a beautiful theater like damn, the paintings are nice

- Doubt Comes In is terrifying. I don’t think I can explain it well, literally all of the lights go out at first expect for the one on Orpheus and him and Eurydice are on the turntable. You can see her slightly due to Orpheus’ light and there’s a part where she goes into the darkness and then vanishes and she isn’t on the stage anymore. Also there’s some parts where Orpheus looks like he’s going to turn around when Eurydice is singing and its heartbreaking 

- How in Road to Hell (Reprise) the song is almost over and you think ‘Oh no is everyone gonna come out and Orpheus isn’t gonna be here’ but then he comes out in his Act 1 outfit with his apron and man it’s both nice and sad at the same time

- The time between Hades telling Orpheus to sing to him and then when he starts singing is longer because like, they have to adjust the microphone and stuff and it’s funny and made me forget my sad feelings for a second

- I love how the show starts, I have nothing to add other than this show is so aware of the audience 

- God practically every song in this show is a show stopping number, I can’t stress enough how outstanding all of these songs are despite the fact that I literally have listened to them almost a hundred times before seeing this show

- In Wait For Me (Reprise) Hades and Persephone end up standing there directly paralleling Orpheus and Eurydice and its beautiful  

- All of the lighting, I really understand now why they won best lighting design because the lighting in every scene, specifically the Chants and Wait for Me are outstanding

- And to talk about lighting I have to talk about how in How Long, the lighting goes from the orangey red of Hadestown when Hades is singing to the nice blue from up above when Persephone is singing 

- If It’s True is amazing and all I have to say is how in the song how all the workers end up sitting in a circle around Orpheus and he points to them and idk what I’m trying to say but its interesting

- Due to the fact that its a small theater, small stage, and small cast you really feel super close to the stage and the actors even when you’re not like, I was up on the balcony and they still felt super close to me its cool

- If you need to know anything about me its that I love his kiss, the riot. It’s literally on my list of top favorite songs of all time due to how much I love it and just hearing that accordion solo live made me very happy shout out to the Hadestown band they are outstanding

- The whole cast is amazing and I don’t know what else to say about them other than the fact that I love them all

I have nothing else to say other than that fact that this is an outstanding show and honestly no show has deserved best musical like this one does. The amount of love and effort put into it is so clearly shown. Everything about it, the music, the story, the dancing, the set, the lighting, everything is so so so great. I can already see the impact and the message this show puts out. This show is absolutely outstanding, I cannot praise it enough. 

[oscopelabs]

Paris sans Agnès by Andrew Lapin

It was morning in Paris when news of Agnès Varda’s death reached the world. On a hunch, I left the apartment I shared with my girlfriend in the city’s 5th arrondissement and walked the 30 minutes, past the hordes of tourists cramming into the skull-stacked Paris Catacombs, to reach Rue Daguerre in the Montparnasse neighborhood, where Varda had lived since 1951.

This is where Varda and her husband, fellow French New Wave filmmaker Jacques Demy, had purchased a derelict pink storefront and turned it into the production house Tamaris Films, later renamed Ciné-Tamaris, so they could produce Varda’s first film La Pointe Courte in 1954. The pair moved into the tucked-away apartment/studio complex and quickly became fixtures of the neighborhood, spreading art, whimsy, and cats around their tiny world (although the building’s exterior remained in poor shape, with paint perpetually peeling and the roof leaking). For the next nearly seven decades, Varda sightings on Rue Daguerre were an everyday occurrence: “the funny little woman in the red-and-white hair,” as one Parisian described her to me. It was fitting that Varda had inherited the spirit of this street from its original namesake Louis Daguerre: inventor of the daguerreotype, the first commercially available form of photographic imagery and the predecessor to the medium that Varda changed forever.

So Ciné-Tamaris seemed like the natural spot for a spontaneous Varda memorial. I arrived around 2:30 and a small crowd was beginning to gather, much of them reporters like myself, prowling the block for grieving soundbites. Flowers and handwritten notes already lined the sidewalk. Occasionally someone, usually a woman, would gingerly approach the display bearing flowers of their own; the person would pace along the length of the building for a few minutes, searching for the ideal spot, and then kneel down to place their offering among the others, so that it was visible but not too ostentatious.

Sometimes a person would reach the entrance of Varda’s sacred place and, instead of leaving flowers, ring the doorbell; immediately a young man or woman would answer the door, size up the greeter to determine if they were a close relation, and then beckon them inside, and you could make out just a glimpse of the entryway, the same one that all the lucky folks who interviewed Varda here over the years love to describe, with the prowling cats and the assorted found objects and the maze of different rooms connected by that entryway.

Others were drawn to the crowd but didn’t know what had brought us all here. “What’s going on?” one man asked me, and I answered that Agnès Varda had died. He gave a blank look; no idea who that was. I tried to explain, with my horrible French, that she was a famous Nouvelle Vague filmmaker, one of the last of her generation, but this too prompted no reaction. So I named the first title that came to my mind, which also seemed the most likely one for a Frenchman unfamiliar with the Nouvelle Vague to have seen – “Visages Villages” (Faces Places), the quirky 2017 documentary she had made with the muralist JR, in which the two had toured the countryside making art installations out of the folks they met in small French towns. It was a surprise worldwide hit, although it divided hardcore cinephiles I knew, some of whom thought the film was too cutesy and JR too posturing. At any rate, the man didn’t recognize the name. But he solemnly nodded all the same, to show he recognized someone monumental had passed, and that seemed enough, and he went on.

JR, as it happened, was presenting a massive new art installation at the Louvre that weekend. He’d covered the entire expanse of the museum’s outdoor Pyramide structure with his trademark screen-printed tarp to create an optical illusion of it rising out of a deep ravine. The effect was short-lived. Within 24 hours the tarp was being ripped up, both intentionally and not, by tourists, reminiscent of the scene in Faces Places where JR pastes a photo of Varda’s friend Guy Bourdin onto the side of a beach bunker and the tide washes it away.

Unlike her very young cohort, who often creates tactile public displays he knows will fade from view in short time, Varda herself was committed to something like the opposite: using her camera to make impermanent things permanent, to capture unusual people and their dissonant dreams on film before they faded away for good.

***

Another passerby, an older woman, was a longtime neighbor of Varda, having lived on Rue Daguerre for decades. She would see the filmmaker around all the time, she said. She most fondly recalled Varda’s 1975 documentary Daguerréotypes, in which she wandered her own street interviewing various shopkeepers and artisans, with a camera and microphone tethered back to her own house. Varda was interested in not only what these folks did for a living, but also what brought them to Paris and what they dreamt about at night. It was the ultimate “good neighbor” act, and also a convenient way for Varda to try to keep up her filmmaking output while raising young children at home.

The artisans of the type Varda profiled 44 years ago—the perfume maker, the magician, the accordion seller—have all but vanished from Rue Daguerre. And though Daguerréotypes never deviates from its pleasantly curious tone to reflect on their vanishing ranks, Varda seemed to be aware even when she was making the film that they were not long for this world. The artisan was a dying, hopelessly outclassed breed in Paris, a city that’s embraced mass-market goods and priced-out real estate like any other. Perhaps, as many critics smarter than I have noted, Varda saw a kinship in her neighbors because she, too, had devoted her life to a craft with no obvious commercial future, one that struck many outside observers as fundamentally useless.

Of all the commerce on the street today, including a comics vendor and a vegan bakery, I honed in on the most Daguerréotypes-like operation: a tiny frame shop with chipped, weathered exteriors, run by an older woman who kept the front door locked even during business hours. She opened the door for me, but when I asked her if she’d ever heard of Agnès Varda, she gave me the same blank look the man on the street had. “No, sorry,” she said, and shut it again.

Yet there was hope that Varda’s impact will be felt on generations of creative people to come. A young Parisian film student named Valentine brought a carton of seven potatoes to her house. Bending down, Valentine took out a Sharpie and scrawled one letter on each vegetable: “A-G-N-È-S.” She drew a heart on a sixth potato and laid it on top of the others, carefully propping up this tableau in the carton against the wall. The seventh potato was already shaped like a heart, and this one she let stand on its own.

Valentine had been sobbing as she did her work, but she soon grew excited to explain what she’d done. The potatoes, she said, were a tribute to Varda’s 2000 documentary The Gleaners and I, which was the first of her films that Valentine had seen and the one that made her want to make her own. In the movie, Varda had befriended various gleaners across the French countryside, communities of people who scoop up the leftover yield of a crop once it’s been abandoned by the commercial harvesters. More gleaners prowl urban centers looking for discarded food, clothes, and other scraps of life.

A rubber boots-clad dumpster diver proclaims people are “stupid” for throwing so much food away, but Varda’s never been the type to shame an audience. She’s content to open herself up to her subjects’ experiences, to glean what she can from their lives as well as her own (when she trains the camera on her own wrinkled hands and ponders the strangeness of having lived in her skin for so long). There’s a scene where Varda, delighted, gleans her own heart-shaped potatoes and holds them up for the camera: objects which no one else wanted, but which she has endowed with new purpose and clarity. After that film, “my little potato” became a common expression among the Varda family.

All three ethnographies came at very different stages of Varda’s life. She made Daguerréotypes at age 46, Gleaners at 71, Faces Places at 88. But they all concerned Varda’s efforts to ingratiate herself among the people of France, to learn more about life in her country outside of film circles. She was certainly an accomplished crafter of narrative films, as well, but it was with this unplanned trilogy that she enriched her deep bond with fans and ensured her own immortality in the French popular imagination. Besides the obvious fact of Varda’s gender, the strength she derived from simply being around other people might be what most distinguished her from Nouvelle Vague contemporaries like Godard and Truffaut, who only care(d) about the outside world inasmuch as it could be related back to their own vision of cinema. (And in Godard’s case, if that final passage of Faces Places is to be believed, the last one of the originals left standing has become impenetrable to even his oldest friends.)

Varda was 90 when she died, and much of her output at least since Gleaners centered in one way or another on her own impending death. Hell, as far back as 1962’s Cléo From 5 to 7, which centers on a pop star who awaits a possible terminal diagnosis, death and its effect on the everyday has been a major theme of her work. Thus, most of the gleaners now gathering at her residence were in agreement that today’s news, though heartbreaking, did not come as a surprise. But it did surprise Valentine. “I just saw her last week,” she said. Varda had attended the Paris premiere of her last feature, the career retrospective Varda par Agnès, and Valentine’s film class had been there to see her. The film had held its world premiere at this year’s Berlinale in February, perhaps because Varda knew even then she wouldn’t have made it all the way to Cannes in May.

How did she seem, I asked. “She looked very… tired,” one of Valentine’s friends volunteered. And now, a week later, she was gone. “I thought she was eternal,” Valentine said, shaking her head as though she knew how ridiculous that sounded. “I just wanted to thank her, I guess.”

***

Montparnasse Cemetery is situated just a few blocks north of Rue Daguerre, the final gathering spot of the French intellectual elite. Charles Baudelaire, Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir are all buried here. Varda is now here, too, buried alongside Demy, as per her wishes. Their headstone now reads “Famille Demy-Varda.” It’s topped with a collection of sunflowers, another crop of significance to Varda: her 1964 drama Le Bonheur had a sunflower motif, and one of her final art projects was “The Greenhouse of Happiness,” in which she constructed a shack out of 35mm prints of the film and placed fake sunflowers within it.

The gravesite is absolutely choking on flowers, notes, and trinkets. Bouquets hail from the French elite film school La Fémis, cinema giant MK2, various museums, the Paris mayor’s office. Another from the modern tradespeople of Rue Daguerre – today’s daguerreotypes, inspired by her portraits of yesterday’s. The love is so massive it has overflown the cemetery. On a stretch of road just over the wall, the Varda grandchildren had painted every sidewalk post on the block – more than 100 – with her trademark red-and-white bob.

And along the headstone, a ring of potatoes. Varda’s harvest is over. Now it’s time to glean.

[fitnesshealthyoga-blog]

New Post has been published on https://fitnesshealthyoga.com/best-all-time-celebrity-met-gala-fashion-outfits/

Best All-Time Celebrity Met Gala Fashion Outfits

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For serious fans of fashion, there’s no bigger red-carpet affair than the annual Costume Institute Benefit—a.k.a. the Metropolitan Museum of Art Gala, or Met Gala for short—where celebrities and high fashion collide in a bonanza of couture gowns that more than rivals the Oscars in unabashed glamour. Part of the evening’s fun—even for us spectators—is seeing what attendees choose to wear on the red carpet at the Gala, which will be held Monday night. Considering attendees’ high-design attire is typically loosely inspired by the exhibition’s theme, we have a feeling this particular red carpet will be one for the record books, and we’ll see some of the best Met Gala dresses yet.

However, before we can look ahead to this year’s extravaganza, we decided to look back at some past memorable Met Gala gowns that we’re still talking about.

From supermodels (Karolina Kurkova in a head-to-toe custom Rachel Zoe creation that resembled liquid gold, Gisele Bündchen’s red-hot Valentino, Anja Rubik’s skin-baring Anthony Vaccarello) and starlets (Beyoncé in showstopping Givenchy, Diane Kruger in Jason Wu) to the fash pack (Alexa Chung in Marc Jacobs, Ashley Olsen in vintage Dior, Zoe Kravitz in Alexander Wang), there’s no denying that everyone who shows up to the year’s most major red carpet does so with a serious fashion moment in mind.

Neilson Barnard/Getty Images.

Rihanna, Met Gala 2017

As an annual Met Gala favorite, Rihanna didn’t disappoint when she wore a Comme des Garçons structured flower-like dress by Rei Kawakubo, a Japanese designer who was honored with that year’s theme. The look, which was straight from Comme des Garçons’s Fall 2016 runway, used floral fabrics, which were layered and pulled apart to look like petals.

Jackson Lee/FilmMagic.

Zendaya, Met Gala 2017

Though Zendaya strayed from 2017’s avant-garde theme, she still shut down the red carpet when she showed up in a colorful Dolce & Gabbana Alta Moda ball gown decorated with vibrant orange and blue parrots. Z complemented her look, which boasted a floor-length train, with a voluminous Afro.

Andrew H Walker/REX/Shutterstock.

Cardi B, Met Gala 2018

Cardi B’s 2018 MOSCHINO Met Gala look (with the theme Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination) was beyond iconic.

Larry Busacca/Getty Images.

Taylor Swift, Met Gala 2016

As 2016’s Met Gala chair, Taylor Swift created chatter on the internet for the metallic minidress she wore in honor of that year’s theme, Manus x Machina: Fashion in an Age of Technology. The look consisted of a robot-like Louis Vuitton dress with cutouts and a ruffled skirt with knee-high lace-up heels and black lipstick complementing Swift’s electric-blonde hair.

Mike Coppola/Getty Images for People.com.

Solange, Met Gala 2016

Solange didn’t exactly fit 2016’s technology-inspired theme, but many fans considered her lemonade-yellow David Laport dress, which featured accordion-like pleats, to be a nod to her sister Beyoncé’s album Lemonade, which came out a month earlier. Solange completed her look with matching latex leg warmers and clear sandals.

Charles Sykes/Invision/AP/REX/Shutterstock.

Lena Waithe, Met Gala 2018

When Master of None’s Lena Waithe showed up to the 2018 Met Gala in a literal rainbow cape, we knew it was going to be a good night.

Karwai Tang/WireImage.

Lupita Nyong’o, Met Gala 2016

Lupita Nyong’o stunned on the Met Gala red carpet in 2016 when she wore a jade sequined Calvin Klein shift dress with a near-translucent train. But it was her hair that caught the attention of the internet. Shortly after Nyong’o walked the red carpet, Vogue published an article comparing her sky-high bun to Audrey Hepburn’s in a 1963 Vogue photo shoot. The actress later called out the magazine on Instagram, explaining that her hair wasn’t inspired by Hepburn, but by traditional African hairstyles and Nina Simone.

J. Kempin/Getty Images.

Kendall Jenner, Met Gala 2017

Kendall Jenner definitely turned heads in 2017 when she showed up at the Met Gala in a near-naked La Perla dress. The sheer look, which featured a large diagonal cutout on Jenner’s torso, was flecked with glitter and featured a low-scooped open back, revealing Jenner’s derriere.

J. Kempin/Getty Images.

Katy Perry, Met Gala 2017

As one of 2017’s Met Gala chairs, Katy Perry raised the bar when she wore an avant-garde red-tulle dress by John Galliano. The look, which featured a floor-length veil and sleeves embellished with large jewels, also included a crown-like headpiece with the word “Witness,” which would later become the title of Perry’s 2017 album.

Jamie McCarthy/FilmMagic.

Claire Danes, Met Gala 2016

From a first look, Claire Danes’s 2016 sky-blue Cinderella-like Zac Posen ball gown looked like another pretty dress and far from that year’s technology-inspired theme. But in the dark, fans learned that the one-of-a-kind dress was sewn with dozens of fiber optics, allowing it to twinkle with lights when it was pitch-black. Posen revealed the high-tech effect on his Instagram.

Neilson Barnard/Getty Images.

Cara Delevingne, Met Gala 2017

Cara Delevingne took advantage of her freshly shaven head at the 2017 Met Gala by glazing it with slick silver paint. She paired her metallic buzzcut with a sci-fi-inspired pantsuit by Chanel with bold shoulders and a futuristic, star-like pattern.

David Fisher/REX/Shutterstock.

Rihanna, Met Gala 2018

Rihanna really stuck to the 2018 “Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination” Met Gala theme when she game dressed as the literal Pope. We’re still screaming about it.

Kevin Mazur/WireImage.

Madonna, Met Gala 2016

Madonna earned mixed reviews when she wore a sheer and skin-baring Givenchy dress to the 2016 Met Gala. The look, which exposed Madonna’s butt and breasts, was criticized by some for being too revealing. Of course, Madonna had the last word. After the controversy, the singer took to her Instagram to explain that her dress was a “political statement” against “an ageist and sexist society.”

Andres Otero/WENN.com.

Kim Kardashian, Met Gala 2013

A pregnant Kim Kardashian didn’t exactly stick to the PUNK: Chaos to Couture theme of 2013’s gala, but her Givenchy dress spawned 10,000 memes—and was of particular significance, given it was the first time Anna Wintour allowed her to attend.

Getty Images.

Diana Ross, Met Gala 1981

Diana Ross’s 1981 Met Gala gown would look right at home on the 2018 red carpet, given fashion’s recent obsession with ruffles and off-the-shoulder cuts.

WENN.com.

Solange, Met Gala 2015

When every other star was tripping over themselves to prove their dresses were the most naked, Solange rolled up to the 2015 Met Gala in this round Giles dress—and killed it.

Mari Sarai/Wireimage.

Amber Valletta, Met Gala 1999

Amber Valletta looked every inch the supermodel in shiny gold at 1999’s “Rock Style” gala.

Andres Otero/WENN.com.

Sarah Jessica Parker, Met Gala 2013

Sarah Jessica Parker, patron saint of the Met Gala, can always be counted on to show up in something fabulously OTT, like this Giles Deacon gown and Philip Treacy Mohawk headpiece in 2013, proving that she truly gets the spirit of the event every year.

Tom Gates/Getty Images.

Diana Vreeland, Met Gala 1981

Legendary fashion editor Diana Vreeland and Bill Blass at the 1981 gala, whose theme was “‘Eighteenth Century Woman.”

Flashpoint / WENN.

Lauren Santo Domingo, Met Gala 2008

In 2008, socialite and fashion It-girl Lauren Santo Domingo wore a silver glittering Nina Ricci gown—created by then-designer Olivier Theyskens—end of story. But it wasn’t, because the dress caused a bit of a scandal when the house dressed SJP in the same exact dress months later for the premiere of the “Sex and the City” movie. The brand responded to the controversy by saying LSD isn’t technically a celebrity, so they didn’t recycle.

Andres Otero/WENN.com.

Lupito Nyong’o, Met Gala 2014

Fresh off her fame-making red-caped-dress moment, Lupita Nyong’o made a dramatic grand entrance at the 2014 gala in flapper-inspired Prada.

Getty Images.

Zoë Kravitz and MIA, Met Gala 2010

The cool crowd—also known as MIA and Zoë Kravitz—arrived on the arm of Alexander Wang at 2010’s “American Women”-themed gala.

WENN.

Florence Welch, Met Gala 2012

Florence Welch brought it to the 2012 gala honoring Miuccia Prada and Elsa Schiaparelli, although she opted to wear a stunning multitiered McQueen dress. She showed up on several “worst-dressed” lists, proving again that the masses just don’t get it.

Toby/WENN.com.

Anja Rubik, Met Gala 2013

Supermodel Anja Rubik rolled up to the 2013 punk-themed gala in a mini red leather Anthony Vaccarello number—and it promptly went down in the annals as one of the coolest, most memorable looks ever.

WENN.com.

Karen Elson, Met Gala 2015

In 2015, supermodel-turned-rocker Karen Elson debuted a jaw-dropping Dolce & Gabbana look on the red carpet. Whether it played into the night’s theme—”China: Through the Looking Glass”—is debatable, but the glamour is not.

Andres Otero/WENN.com.

Anne Hathaway, Met Gala 2013

Anne Hathaway shed her goody-goody image at the 2013 punk-themed gala, replacing her long brown hair with a cropped platinum cut and debuting an on-theme Valentino gown.

Lia Toby/WENN.com.

Miley Cyrus, Met Gala 2013

A logical step in Miley Cyrus’s 2013 emancipation from Hannah Montana? Attending the punk-themed Met Gala on Marc Jacobs’s arm in a  totally sheer dress and with blonde spiky hair.

Evan Agostini/Getty Images.

Diane Kruger, Met Gala 2004

A lot of the looks at 2004’s “Dangerous Liaisons: Fashion and Furniture in the 18th Century” gala look wildly outdated now, but Diane Kruger—in Nicolas Ghesquiere—still looks chic and sexy.

Lia Toby/WENN.com.

Nicole Richie, Met Gala 2013

Nicole Richie stunned due to the simple fact that she made both a Topshop gown and silver hair look ridiculously chic in 2013.

WENN.com.

Kim Kardashian, Met Gala 2015

In 2015, Kim Kardashian caught major flak for wearing a dress nearly identical to the one Beyoncé wore in 2012. Granted, they’re by different designers and were different colors—Beyoncé’s black and purple gown was Givenchy, while Kim’s white dress was part of Peter Dundas’s first collection since returning to Roberto Cavalli, but the similarities were shocking, down to the sheer nakedness, the curve-hugging fit, and—of course—the feathered train that Bey worked like a pro on the Met’s red stairs when she made her dramatic entrance three years ago.

(And let it be known, Kim—who was on the event’s host committee that year—also showed up toward the end of the carpet, just like Ms. Knowles did.)

WENN.com.

Rihanna, Met Gala 2015

Perhaps the most memorable gala gown—and the most memorable example of a star sticking to the theme—was at 2015’s “China: Through the Looking Glass”: Rihanna showed up in an imperial-yellow fur-trimmed caped number with a multifoot-long train created by Chinese couturier Guo Pei. “I was researching Chinese couture on the Internet, and I found it,” she told Vanity Fair.

Getty Images.

Ashley Olsen, Met Gala 2011

Ashley Olsen didn’t wear McQueen to the 2011 gala, whose theme was in his honor, but looked absolutely perfect in a vintage Dior with puffy sleeves.

WENN.com.

Beyoncé, Met Gala 2015

Beyoncé turned heads in revealing Givenchy Couture at 2015’s gala, though some critics slammed the look for being too shameless in its approach to grab headlines. In the year of the “naked dress” on the gala’s carpet—J.Lo and—predictably—Kim K. also showed up in similar styles—we kind of hoped Beyoncé would have risen above the fray and had fun with her look, much like Rihanna did that year.

WENN.

Gisele Bündchen, Met Gala 2011

Part of one of the best-dressed couples of all time, supermodel Gisele Bündchen made jaws drop in 2011 with her dramatic red Alexander McQueen.

Getty Images.

Bianca Brandolini D’Adda, Met Gala 2012

Italian It-girl Bianca Brandolini D’Adda stunned in a serious gold Dolce & Gabbana ensemble in 2012.

Rose Hartman/Archive Photos/Getty Images.

Elizabeth Hurley, Met Gala 1995

Quintessential ’90s couple Elizabeth Hurley—in her signature curve-hugging gown style—and Hugh Grant at 1995’s gala.

Evan Agostini/Getty Images.

Amber Valletta, Met Gala 2004

It’s hard not to applaud Amber Valletta for fully embracing the 2004 “Dangerous Liaisons: Fashion and Furniture in the 18th Century” gala theme.

WENN.

Diane Kruger, Met Gala 2011

In 2011, Diane Kruger was the picture of modernity—instead of an OTT gown, she opted for a sleek black slit-skirt and embellished top by Jason Wu.

Billy Farrell/BFAnyc/Sipa Press.

Rihanna, Met Gala 2011

Been there, done that: Rihanna was doing the naked-dress thing long before Kim, Bey, and J.Lo. Here she is in Stella McCartney in 2011.

Getty Images.

Karolina Kurkova, Met Gala 2012

Karolina Kurkova brought some serious Studio 54 vibes in 2012 with her gold beaded Rachel Zoe number.

Getty Images.

Kirsten Dunst, Met Gala 2012

Kirsten Dunst might have worn prim Rodarte to 2012’s gala, but the look did its part to play into the Prada and Schiappareli theme.

Getty Images.

Alexa Chung, Met Gala 2013

It-girl and style-setter Alexa Chung took the “real fashion” route in a buttoned-up Marc Jacobs look in 2013.

Getty Images.

Nina Dobrev, Met Gala 2012

Actress Nina Dobrev looked glamorous in a serious Donna Karan Atelier gown in 2012.

  A version of this story originally appeared in May 2016.

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[proserpine-in-phases]

“Answer 21 questions and tag 21 other people you want to know better.”

Nicknames:  Andrea (yeah just straight up my fuckin name), Anne, Annie (only if you’re my mom), Andy, pip 

Zodiac Sign: scorpio

Height: 5′ 10″

Hogwarts House:  ravenclaw

The last thing I googled:  a lesson is learned but the damage is irreversible 

Favorite musicians:  right now probably glass animals, but I don’t really do favorites

Some song stuck in my head:  young blood - the naked and the famous

Following: 161

Followers:  1195

Do you get asks:  not even when I do ask memes :(

Amount of sleep: highly variable. regular sleep schedule? never met her but I hear she’s pretty cool

Lucky number:  4

What you’re wearing: sweatpants and my second favorite sweater I got in chaffey wisconsin (it says it on the sweater)

Dream job: college student

Dream trip: I want to see venice before it sinks

Instruments: i used to play piano. I also recently inherited an accordion so I gotta learn how to play that some time

Languages: english.  i took german in high school and spanish in college and remember basically nothing of either of them because I fuckin suck at learning languages, it turns out

Favorite songs: right now? oh boy. dream state by son lux, agnes by glass animals, familiar by agnes obel, party like it’s your birthday by studio killers, the wave by miike snow (yes still), delicate by taylor swift, betty boop by harald kindseth, shelter by porter robinson and madeon, sea of love by the national, humility by gorillaz, I really really really like this image by hot dad, and many more! I got a lot and I have no taste

Random fact: I was born without wisdom teeth and will never grow any. won that fuckin genetic lottery

Aesthetic: ocean colors, spilled paint, polished stones, clutterbitch, white bookshelves overflowing with books, long earrings, bold patterns clashing against each other, blankets on every conceivable surface and so many fucking throw pillows you guys they’re everywhere, night driving, highways through empty fields, like I was going for minimalism but I just have too much shit

tagging: 21 is just too many fucking people, if you want to do this say I tagged you. take the initiative, seize the day and all that