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beatricebidelaire · 1 year

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rumour has it

Kit talks to four different people about Beatrice and Esme.

~1.1k, gen, with background relationships.

****

“I just don’t think Beatrice should let herself be so affected by - what’s her name again? Esme? You know. Beatrice’s new understudy,” Kit shakes her head, sounding disapproving. “Sure this Esme sounds quite rude, but that’s exactly why there’s no need to engage with her at all. Just ignore her. That shouldn’t be hard.”

Olaf shrugs, taking a bite of the cookie. “Beats me,” he says while chewing. “She’s dealt with ruder people. I have no idea why Esme bothers her so much. That said, if I were to hazard a guess -” he pauses, giving Kit a meaningful look.

Kit half-turns to glance at him, knowing that dramatic pauses from Olaf usually means he has dramatic gossip he’s about to announce. “Oh yeah?”

“B is attracted to her,” Olaf announces. “If I have to guess.”

“Okay, less than 5 minutes ago you were telling me Beatrice thinks this Esme is unqualified, stupid, vain, and a terrible actress,” Kit points out.

“Exactly,” Olaf drawls. “Notice that she did not call her ugly.”

“So is this Esme really as unqualified - and all those adjectives - as Beatrice said, in your opinion?”

“Oh, Esme is definitely vain,” Olaf says, swallowing the cookie before continuing, “but stupid? If she’s really stupid, Beatrice wouldn’t even pay any attention to her. You know how B likes smart people, it’s why she’s been best friends with me for a decade and half. While Esme is definitely not as clever as me, she’s at the very least clever enough to be able to continue to come up with new ways to annoy Beatrice.”

Kit snorts a little at Olaf’s ‘as clever as me’, but thinks that he probably has some point about how Esme is clever enough to annoy Beatrice. It isn’t like Beatrice - Beatrice, who knows how to handle everyone - to suddenly lose all her social queen abilities around this Esme girl.

“Is she -” Kit pauses, fishing for the right word in her mind. “Feeling threatened by this Esme? Because she fears people might think Esme is prettier or something?”

“Oh, Kit,” Olaf says. “Be careful not to say that in front of B. She’ll start throwing stuff.”

Kit raises an eyebrow. “That bad? Seriously?”

“Eh, maybe not at you,” he concedes. “She expresses more emotions around me. But still, my point stands.”

“Just how pretty is this Esme?” Kit asks, skeptical.

“Depends on what she’s wearing at the time,” Olaf replies, with a shrug. “That time when she’s in that ocean blue dress - I almost immediately invited her over for the night. Would have, too, but someone else was faster. However, when she wore that weird thing she proclaimed as ‘innest fashion of the week’ that made her look like some kind of vintage vase from the 1700s, it’s pretty much a turn-off for me.”

“Innest fashion of the week,” Kit repeats.

“Oh yeah. Forgot to mention - Esme is really into what’s ‘in’ - you know. The most fashionable thing at the moment. Read the fashion column every day.”

****

“Wait, you’re saying you have met this Esme girl - the one in B and O’s theater group?” Kit asks.

“Just that once when Jacques and I went to their rehearsal,” Bertrand says. “For the murder mystery play. Lots of Agatha Christie references.”

“What’s your take on her?”

“On Christie? Well, I think that -”

“No, not Christie,” Kit rolls her eyes. “Esme.”

He laughs, then takes a moment to consider. “See, I would tell you I think she’s rather - mean-spirited and aggressive, but.”

“But?” Kit prompts when he stops talking.

Bertrand hesitates. “But Beatrice is the exact same way when around her. Not like the Beatrice we know. Well, still like the Beatrice we know, sort of, but it’s like Esme brings out certain negative qualities in her. Magnifies them, so to speak. So - it’s possible Esme isn’t usually like this either, but just … when around Beatrice. Possibly.”

“Beatrice is our friend,” Kit says, feeling a need to defend Beatrice.

“Yes, and I like her, we all do. But, from a more objective perspective …” he trails off. “I don’t know, I’m just saying that I don’t know enough about Esme to say. Maybe she really is like that all the time.”

Kit frowns thoughtfully.

****

“Esme? You mean Baudelaire Number 2?” Georgina Orwell says. “I have only met her once and immediately knew that I have no interest in ever seeing her again, just as I do Baudelaire. She doesn’t seem to be as annoying as Baudelaire yet, but it’s already evident that Baudelaire’s influences on her are showing. I personally would want those two little girls to stay as far away from me as possible.”

“They’re 21 and 22 years old,” Kit says drily.

“Exactly,” Georgina says. “Little girls, as I said.”

Kit isn’t sure if Georgina’s opinion is worth taking into account, after hearing what she said. Georgina has a reputation for being good at reading people, but she’s very disinterested in, and one may even say annoyed by Beatrice. While Beatrice can be a little … overly energetic, Kit thinks that it’s fair to say that Georgina Orwell is a little biased towards Beatrice.

So if Georgina groups Esme into the same category as Beatrice, how much of her opinion on Esme is unibased is a big question.

****

“Esme? Oh, Beatrice and Olaf’s friend from the theater,” R says. “She doesn’t seem particularly interested in literature, but does have quite a lot to say about fashion. And I mean a lot.”

“I think Beatrice would probably say the word ‘friend’ is a bit of a stretch,” Kit comments.

R shrugs, in her own usual elegant manner. “Well, what does the word friend mean, in our line of work and volunteering? You yourself prefer the word ‘associate’ for the longest times, even when referring to your own brother. Even now.”

Kit winces. “Okay that’s - that’s not fair, R.”

“Not judging, just making an observation,” R says, lightly.

Kit makes a face. “Fine. But seriously, that’s me. It’s what I do. Beatrice is - well, Beatrice is not me. She’s Beatrice. She calls people friends. She considers many people her friend. But this Esme - from what I have heard about the two of them, I very much doubt she’s someone Beatrice considers a friend.”

“You make a valid point there,” R agrees. “I doubt Beatrice considers Esme a friend. That said,” she sighs, if just a little wistful. “I’d be very surprised if they don’t sleep together by the end of the month.”

Kit chokes on her tea.

R pats her back sympathetically.

“You’re kidding me,” Kit says finally, after she recovers.

R pours some more tea into Kit’s cup, “Oh Kit,” she says. “I wish.”

#kit snicket #count olaf #bertrand baudelaire #georgina orwell #r duchess of winnipeg #brotp: pencil bun and strawberry blond #asoue #my writing

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beatricebidelaire · 10 months

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The rainy sky is a mixture of pale gray and complete whiteness, and the windshield wiper is moving rhythmically on the taxi's windscreen. Left, right, left, right. Kit speeds down the highway only slightly slower than her usual speed, and beside him, Bertrand leans back comfortably in the passenger seat, raising his head up from his commonplace book.

"It's surprising how smooth the traffic is," he remarks. "I'd have thought it'd be more chaotic, given the rain."

"Usually it is like that," Kit agrees. "So many people suddenly can't drive when it's raining. But this isn't rush hours where everyone has to get to work, so most people who can't drive very well in the rain are probably all staying inside right now, with this weather."

The air conditioning in the taxi is strong, temperature set lower so as not to let the windows get foggy. It reminds Bertrand of the times when it was raining heavily outside and he was staying inside the library at the vfd headquarters, reading a book. The air conditioning was fairly strong at those times as well, and there was always something that felt - a little surreal, a little off-balance, during the moments he paused his reading and refocused on the outside world again, listening to the rain pouring down outside. The kind of feeling as if passing through a liminal space. It's an odd feeling, but he doesn't exactly dislike it - perhaps even enjoy it a little, as difficult as it is to describe exactly.

Kit reaches out a hand to switch the radio channel, and the classical music stops, replaced by light jazz flowing out of the sound system, surrounding the taxi. The two of them chat idly about random subjects, not always fast to respond to the other's comment, but the silent pauses in the conversations aren't awkward against the sound of rain and jazz. Plus, they're far too comfortable with each other's presence anyway, and are used to both deep conversations and also companionable silence between the two of them. It's as easy and natural as breathing - and, considering the dangerous activities that being VFD volunteers sometimes led them to, one might even say it's easier and more natural than breathing under certain circumstances.

After a while, perhaps 20 minutes, they get off the highway and venture into the city streets. Traffic's slightly worse down here, though Kit navigates it with relative ease, and then finally come to a stop after driving into the parking lot beneath the theater. Instead of the theater, though, they head towards the coffee shop just a block away as that's their final destination, not the theater itself. Beatrice being part of the theater group that performs regularly here means that she was able to acquire a parking pass for Kit.

Inside Chekhov's Cafe, Beatrice waves at them as soon as they step in, fumbling to put the umbrella away. She's wearing a pair of capri jeans - rumor has it that those are back in fashion again, probably - and an orange blouse. Beside her sits Jacques, with his usual grey trench coat. Beatrice beams at them as they walk over, ever so energetic and bright.

"You have to try their Muffin of MacGuffin," she announces as they sit down. "Daily Punctilio's fashion column will be including it in the list of the innest snacks of the week starting next week, so the price is about to skyrocket real soon."

Kit raises an eyebrow. "Really. So what's actually inside the muffin?"

Beatrice grins, her eyes sparkling. "Well, that's irrelevant, obviously."

"So, how's the latest in the land of manipulating the city's economy through strategically declaring different things as fashionable?" Bertrand asks Jacques.

"Salmon is making a comeback, so take note," Jacques replies drily. "So is black-and-white movies, but that one's just a favor for Gustav."

"G's trying to get some sponsor for his latest pitch," Beatrice adds.

Kit and Bertrand do not order the Muffin of MacGuffin as Beatrice recommended, and instead she gets a sandwich and ice tea and he opts for a quiche, with coffee to go along with it. Beatrice sighs dramatically and remarks on their lack of sense of adventure, but then is quickly distracted when Jacques takes out his commonplace book and flips to the page of his latest investigations on one of VFD's assignments. She grabs the commonplace book from Jacques and starts skimming through his notes quickly.

The four of them delve into deep conversations about the assignment, but in cryptic words and with rather ambiguous references since they're sort of in a public place. Kit absentmindedly chews on the ice cubes from her ice tea while she compares her own notes against Jacques's.

Half an hour later, Beatrice glances at her watch - Kit notices it's a different watch from the one Beatrice was wearing when they last met, and wonders internally if it's something she only recently bought, or perhaps stole - and declares that she has to run back to the theater now as they have a rehearsal soon. Outside, the rain is still pouring, and the rest of them watch as Beatrice grabs her umbrella and dashes out, opening up the umbrella in the rain.

There's a white "E", in elegant cursive, on the bright red umbrella.

"She's more like a lightning than actual lightning itself," Kit remarks, taking another sip of her tea.

Bertrand raises an eyebrow. "Careful, K," he says. "Don't get struck."

#kit snicket #bertrand baudelaire #brotp: pencil bun and strawberry blond #jacques snicket #beatrice baudelaire #vera.txt

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beatricebidelaire · 11 months

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It's as if everything has stopped moving, including time. She would say time has frozen, and in a way that's exactly how it feels, except using the word frozen to describe things in this hot summer day seems almost out of place.

It's one of those summer afternoons in The City where there isn't much traffic on the street. Barely any cars moving around, and no pedestrians either - at least in this district. Perhaps everyone's busy staying inside to hide from the summer heat. The sun shines brightly above, a big ball of burning heat in the cloudless sky.

No walking pedestrians or moving cars, combined with the quietness of this district, makes it seems like nothing is moving. Not even time.

Kit Snicket walks down the empty sidewalk, wearing sunglasses borrowed from Beatrice - the plainest pair she could find amidst of Beatrice's ever so fancy collection. The collection definitely has some pairs missing, but it's not too surprising that Esme does not have her eyes on this particularly plain pair of sunglasses.

She has the urge to pause, and simply stand on this sidewalk, let herself immerse in the stillness of it all. A few blocks over is the banking district, or more formally the Victorious Finance District, and she knows that it'll be much busier on the streets over there. Because it always is. Even in the hottest summer days, cars come and go, stopping in front of the different banks, carrying the people who are visiting the banks for all sorts of businesses. The Fountain of Victorious Finance is probably not quite empty either as the cool, refreshing water flows around, and the children - and sometimes not just the children - climbing inside to have some fun.

But here, just a few blocks away from the Victorious Finance District, everything is quiet. Still. And she wants to immerse herself in that, just stand here and soak it all in. The unforgiving heat, the sharp sunlight, the absolute stillness, the unmoving air. She feels like she can stand here forever and gets frozen along with it, like a painting.

Well, technically, she probably can't. At this temperature, if she stands unmoving out here for too long, she might get a heat stroke or faint. Or both. Kit is rational enough to know that. It just doesn't stop her from indulging in that fantasy for a brief moment.

So she stands there, part of an imaginary painting of a summer afternoon in The City. Dry summer heat, blazing sun, cloudless sky, quiet, empty street.

The frozen, nothing seems to be moving effect gets broken when a car turns a corner and onto the street, continues forward and eventually stops in front of her. A taxi. Her taxi. It comes to a halt, and the window rolls down, revealing Bertrand on the driver's seat. She can feel the cool air conditioning breeze coming out of the rolled down window.

"Snicket," Bertrand says. "Dewey wants us at the hotel."

She raises an eyebrow, and opens the door to the taxi and climbs in. "Hey, B."

Bertrand's hair is loosely tied up with a dark blue ribbon, and he's changed to a new pair of rimmed glasses since she last saw him - indicating that he's perhaps paid a visit to Georgina Orwell just very recently. The inside of the taxi is cool, cold hair engulfing her, a sharp contrast to the heat outside. An oasis in the desert. Although the desert has its charm as well, and when she was out there a few moments ago that had felt like an oasis of its own. An escape, a silent moment in The City which can get so crowded at certain places.

"So, new glasses," she says.

"Ah," he says. "You noticed."

She rolls her eyes. "I have basic observation skills."

"Usually only when it comes to Beatrice," he says slyly.

She scoffs. "As if I can keep up with all the different fashion styles she's going through. Honestly, I'm not Esme."

He hums noncommittally.

They drive through the streets, selecting the emptier ones, and they soon arrive at the hotel. Bertrand parks the taxi, and they climb out of the car.

He locks the taxi, and she looks back, half turning. He grins, just a little, and tosses her the car key. She catches it.

"So, let's go visit our favorite sub sub librarian."

#kit snicket #bertrand baudelaire #brotp: pencil bun and strawberry blond #vera.txt

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beatricebidelaire · 11 months

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bertrand and kit wearing matching “average prime number enjoyer” and “mean prime number enjoyer” shirts

#kit snicket #bertrand baudelaire #brotp: pencil bun and strawberry blond #vera.txt

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beatricebidelaire · 1 year

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obsessed with the BBK dynamics in lauren’s fic the eye of the storm

“he is on an ever-shrinking list of people she would genuinely trust with her life” B&K friendship so good always

“i don’t think he’s feeding it volunteers, if that’s what you’re worried about” is such a funny line A++ delivery by kit

“this is why it’s easier to be cross with beatrice when you don’t have to actually see her” no one can resist the beatrice baudelaire charm

“beatrice is even more petite, so kit is able to give bertrand a long-suffering look over the top of her brow hair. she’s trying not to be too openly sour, but she still hasn’t quite managed to forgive her for the mess they’ve made together. bertrand likes beatrice, of course, just as much as anyone does - but he could take or leave her overly-touchy tendencies and will be able to sympathize” so in love with this part . the dynamics…… also short beatrice yes

#beatrice baudelaire #bertrand baudelaire #kit snicket #brotp: pencil bun and strawberry blond #vera.txt

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beatricebidelaire · 2 years

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bertrand: i think i’m starting to develop feelings for E.

kit: E as in ernest??

bertrand: yes. thoughts?

kit: and prayers.

#bertrand baudelaire #kit snicket #brotp: pencil bun and strawberry blond #vera.txt

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beatricebidelaire · 1 year

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#kit snicket #bertrand baudelaire #brotp: pencil bun and strawberry blond #vera.txt

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beatricebidelaire · 1 year

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one thing i love about lauren’s the eye of the storm (k/o) and fool me once (g/b) being set in the same universe, aside from plot points referencing each other neatly, is that i get to see the k&b friendship in both sides,

specifically of k’s descriptions of b in the eye of the storm (Bertrand is her closest associate. Actually — for him, she will say friend. He is on an ever-shrinking list of people she would genuinely trust with her life.)

and then b’s descriptions of k in fool me once (“K looks more exhausted and less like herself each time they meet. When you don’t see your closest friend for months on end, it’s obvious when something about them changes in the interim.” “He nods, but he’s perturbed by her lack of enthusiasm. K, of all people, knows that sometimes the most effective way to go about getting the information that you need may not be to do things strictly by protocol. She is not such a stickler for the rules that this ought to bother her.”)

#vera.txt #brotp: pencil bun and strawberry blond

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beatricebidelaire · 2 years

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the poetic clues

3.1k, pre-canon. bertrand baudelaire, kit snicket, beatrice baudelaire, lemony snicket.

the first sign that something is out of ordinary is the slip of paper on his desk that was definitely not there last night, with a line of poetry written on it, with an overly obvious typo that is in no way not intentional. following the hint of the typo, he found a second slip of paper in one of the cabinets in the kitchen, with a different line of poetry written on it. there is one glaringly obvious typo, and a another more controversial one, since historically there have been different opinions on which was the actual original line. bertrand could see it going either way, but he knows some of his friends are particularly opinionated about this.

a trap, he muses. is the actual hint about the next location simply based on the glaringly obvious typo, or a combination of it and the controversial one? he supposes it would depend on who constructed this message. judging by the handwriting, he can make an educated guess.

library on 4th street, he thinks, picking up his jacket and putting it on.

just as he steps outside of the apartment, a taxi stops in front of him on the street. the window of the front passenger seat rolls down. “figured you would need a ride.”

the timing is too coincidental. “you’re not spying on me, are you?” he asks suspiciously.

“i can neither confirm nor deny it,” kit drawls. “now, do you want a ride or not?”

[or: beatrice and lemony organized a poetry-based treasure hunt for bertrand’s birthday.]

#bertrand baudelaire #kit snicket #brotp: pencil bun and strawberry blond #vera.txt #fake fic

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beatricebidelaire · 2 years

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“you okay?” B asks.

“i’ve been better,” K sighs, lying facedown on the sofa. “i mean, i’ve also definitely been worse but, yeah. i’ve really been better.”

“mmm,” B hums. “i know how that feels.”

“and what a wonderful help that is to my situation, truly,” K says sarcastically.

“hang in there, snicket,” B says. “the soup will be arriving in 20 minutes.”

“unless someone murders our delivery on the way.” K says.

“unless someone murders our delivery on the way,” B agrees. “or if she gets arrested.”

“or stops for a root beer float,” K says.

“or runs into esme,” B says.

“or receives news about my brother’s latest shenanigans,” K says. “or has a fight with O.”

“or decides to take a detour to hotel denouement?” B offers.

“and spontaneously gives the soup to D as a gift, after doing something to annoy F.”

silence falls between them.

K props herself up from the sofa. “the soup is never arriving, is it?”

“well, could be worse,” B says.

“could be worse.” K agrees. “could be raining.”

#kit snicket #bertrand baudelaire #brotp: pencil bun and strawberry blond #vera.txt

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beatricebidelaire · 2 years

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kit snicket: if i have a dollar every time i hear a rumor about bertrand being involved with a different denouement brother i would have three dollars which isn’t a lot but it’s enough to make me question his taste and morality

#kit snicket #bertrand baudelaire #vera.txt #brotp: pencil bun and strawberry blond #the denouement triplets

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beatricebidelaire · 2 years

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the picture of jacques snicket and the dart

it started at the opera house.

****

The opera house is empty except for the four of them.

Kit and Bertrand are on one end, observing the space with their binoculars. Jacques is in the VIP box at the opposite end. He’s sitting in the second to left seat in the VIP box. The seat The Count usually sits at when he visits the opera.

On the stage is Beatrice, wearing a glamorous dress. She sees Kit’s binoculars focused on her, and winks in the direction, and does a spin.

Kit feels herself smile fondly, just a little.

Bertrand clears his throat.

“Shut up,” Kit says.

“Snicket, I didn’t even say anything,” Bertrand sighs. “Why is she on the stage again? Aren’t we here to prepare for the mission?”

“This is a rare chance for her to have all the stage to herself, there’s usually so many people here,” Kit says, defensive. “So what if we multitask a bit for tonight? We have a lot of time. Are you going to deprive her of that?”

“First of all, the last time someone who isn’t Beatrice tries to ‘multitask’ during missions preparations, you gave them a lecture on putting the organization first -”

“That was a group of new volunteers, just out of apprenticeship,” Kit interrupts, “they’re not capable enough yet and need to stay focused. We, on the other hand, can have a bit of flexibility.”

Beatrice does a ballet move on the stage. She’s indeed so very flexible, Kit thinks. In more ways than one.

“Second of all, you say ‘deprive’ as if anyone can ‘deprive’ Beatrice Baudelaire of anything,” Bertrand continues. “She’s Beatrice Baudelaire.”

Kit scoffs, “Careful there with your barely concealed jealousy.”

“I’m not jealous, just pointing out a fact,” Bertrand corrects her.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that while you try to find a way to get into my baby brother’s good graces,” Kit rolls her eyes. She turns the binoculars at Jacques in the VIP box now, and feigns the gesture of shooting a dart.

Jacques looks back at her, with a calm and almost bland expression.

“He’s so annoying,” Kit mutters. “Wish I had an actual dart here that I can shoot at his face.”

“Actually,” Bertrand says drily.

“Oh, you brought the darts?” Kit asks.

“Obviously,” Bertrand sighs. “We’re here to prepare for the mission, aren’t we? At least, I am.” His glance darts towards the stage.

“Give her a break,” Kit frowns. “Look, she doesn’t talk about this, but this can’t be easy for her. She’s … close with his family. You know that.”

“I do know that,” Bertrand says, voice clipped. “Which is why I don’t get why she wants to be on the mission at all. She wasn’t, in the initial plan. And then she requested to be part of it.”

“Well, additional manpower isn’t a bad thing,” Kit says.

“Sure, but she’s not very helpful to the mission, dancing on the stage,” Bertrand points out.

“As you said, she’s not originally on the mission,” Kit argues. “So does it really matter if she’s being helpful or not? Plus, this is’t a terrible sight to look at.” A very lovely sight, in fact. Beatrice dancing by herself on the wide stage to the empty seats, a performance only for the three of them. Or maybe just her, specifically, as Jacques isn’t looking at Beatrice’s performances and instead just sitting there, thinking about perhaps his fashion column or his Jerome Squalor, and Bertrand obviously doesn’t know how to appreciate beautiful things.

“If this were anybody else,” Bertrand narrows his eyes. “You would not be taking the same tone.”

“And? So what?” Kit demands. “Hand me those darts, B,” she says, but grabs the box of darts before he has a chance to hand it to her. She fishes one out of the box and aims it in Jacques’s direction. “Think I can get his forehead?”

As if he can hear what they’re saying - even though Kit thinks with this distance it should be hard, although perhaps not impossible since the rest of the opera house is empty - Jacques suddenly looks Kit right in the eyes and smiles condescendingly.

“Bastard,” Kit mutters, and sends the dart in her hand flying.

Jacques catches it and calmly pockets the dart in his trench coat.

“You know,” Bertrand says, there’s a barely concealed amused grin in his voice. “You’re twins -”

“Taking everything literally will not make my baby brother fall in love with you and abandon Beatrice,” Kit says. “So like, shut up.”

On the stage, Beatrice cheers, “Well shot, Kit!”

Kit’s suddenly glad that Beatrice is far away and likely can’t see her cheeks redden. “Thanks, Beatrice,” she calls out.

“Oh my god, K.”

“I said shut up, B. Give me another dart.”

“I think you’ve had enough for tonight,” Bertrand says.

“Why do you sound like we’re at some pub and I’m drunk? Also, now who’s not taking mission preparations seriously? This is important work, you know,” she says snidely.

“Well, you do seem to be drunk on Baudelaire’s compliments,” he says loftily.

“I am going to tell L that you’re a terrible influence he should stay away from,” she says.

“You know what, go ahead.”

“Oh fuck, that’s going to encourage him huh,” she scowls. “Well, I’m going to tell him you’ve become an even more boring rule-stickler than before, then.” She takes another dart and fires it.

It lands on Jacques’s nose this time.

On the stage, Beatrice cheers.

Kit jabs her elbow at Bertrand, “hey, B, get me the camera.”

He sighs, but hands her the camera anyway. “If J asks, this is all you and I didn’t do anything.”

“Coward, this is why L doesn’t like you, you know,” Kit says, quickly taking a picture just before Jacques takes the dart off and scowls at her. “Oh, this is excellent,” she says, sounding almost gleeful. “Do you think I can get Frank to hang the picture in the lobby of the hotel?”

“If he won’t, Ernest probably would,” Bertrand says.

“Yeah, but I can’t owe Ernest a favor,” Kit rolls her eyes. She pauses, and then turns to look at Bertrand.

“Okay, no -”

“But he’d do it if you ask,” she says.

“I’m not getting involved.” He scoffs.

“Ever the good student -” she drawls.

“If you’re going to reverse psycho -”

“That’s why L doesn’t like you, you know,” she says snidely.

“............... fine,” he scowls. “Give me that fucking photo.”

Kit smiles winningly.

“I hate you,” he says. “I just want that to be on the record.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever,” Kit says cheerfully.

****

“Beatrice,” Frank sighs. “How many times do I have to say it, you can’t just put decorations over the lobby as you please.”

“As much as I would love taking credit, this time it actually has nothing to do with me,” Beatrice pouts. She looks at him all wide-eyed innocence, and then suddenly grins, “But you can’t say you didn’t enjoy Jerome’s expression when he walked into the hotel and saw that.”

“Who the hell is Jerome?”

“Squalor! The City’s 3rd richest gentleman! Do you not pay attention when I update you on Jacques’s love life?”

“Absolutely not,” Frank says flatly. “I don’t care if it’s you who put that there, but get it off. It’s bad for the business.”

“I’m going to tell Jacques you think his face is bad for the business,” Beatrice says.

“While you’re at it, tell him so is the beard, it’s awful,” Frank says. “Who told him it was a good idea?”

“I heard Jerome likes it,” Beatrice says.

“This Jerome sounds like someone with terrible taste,” Frank says. “Anyway, get the picture off, will you?”

“I’m not your secretary, you know.”

“Of course not,” Frank says. “My secretary will actually listen to me.” He sighs. “If you’re not going to be helpful, can’t you go bother someone else?”

Beatrice feigns hurt. “I can’t believe you consider me a bother.”

“Well, I absolutely do,” Frank says flatly. “So you better believe it.”

“You’re so boring, do you know that?” Beatrice asks.

“Thank you,” Frank replies. “Coming from you, I’d take that as a compliment.”

“It really isn’t,” Beatrice says.

“And I really don’t care,” Frank tells her. “Now get out of my office.”

****

“Why is there a picture of Jacques Snicket hanging in the lobby? Are you guys trying to scare your guests away?” Esme asks.

“Yeah, I’m trying to ward off annoying financial advisors who demand luxury service without paying for it,” Ernest says. “Doesn’t seem to be working, though.”

“Very funny,” Esme sniffs. “Look, me being here is good for the hotel business. My fans flock to wherever I am. You should thank me. Anyway, I need the presidential suite next week, Georgie’s in the city for a conference.”

“Ah, Dr. Orwell,” Ernest says. “My favorite associate.”

“I thought that’s me,” Esme drawls.

“You’re ranked above Olaf, how’s that?” Ernest asks.

Esme sniffs. “That’s such a low bar.”

“I don’t deny that,” he shrugs.

****

“Why is that picture in your office?” Jacques demands.

“It was in the lobby,” Frank says drily. “You should thank me for not allowing it to stay there.”

“Well, thank you,” Jacques says. “But you can just throw it away, really.”

“Nah, I think I like it here,” Frank shrugs casually, taking a dart from his table and shooting it at the picture. “My therapist says it’s good for my blood pressure to do this to vent my frustrations.”

“You do not have a therapist,” Jacques says. “None of us do.”

“Fine,” Frank says. “It’s still good for my blood pressure. Wanna try it?” He hands Jacques a dart.”

“No,” Jacques scowls. “I’m going to Jerome’s place.”

Frank shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

#asoue #bertrand baudelaire #kit snicket #beatrice baudelaire #jacques snicket #frank denouement #ernest denouement #esme squalor #brotp: pencil bun and strawberry blond #brotp: overly specific hotel rules just for you #my writing

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beatricebidelaire · 2 years

Text

“i did not give you that ring for you to run away with beatrice to some faraway island and have her all to yourself and the rest of us can never see her again, you know.” kit scowls.

bertrand sighs. they’ve been over this for quite a few times now. “we came back, didn’t we.”

“only because they kicked you off the island, i’ve heard,” kit sneers.

bertrand narrows his eyes. “be sure to send ishmael a thank you card, then.”

their eyes lock with each other’s.

“how is beatrice?” kit breaks the silence.

bertrand softens. “she’s … doing good.”

“and the baby?”

“also good, thank you.”

“you’re keeping the baby in the dark, aren’t you?” Kit asks shrewdly.

“yes,” bertrand says flatly, but then he adds, “for now.”

“fine,” kit says, voice equally flat. she takes out a folder. “here, a project at the bank you can handle.”

bertrand doesn’t take it, and kit waits.

“you do want the kid to stay in the dark, don’t you? be unaware. uninvolved, for now.”

“is that a threat, snicket?”

“i don’t make the decisions,” kit says coolly. “i’m just being a good friend - despite you running off to an island with the woman of my dreams - who’s reminding you what the people making decisions will decide, if you were to refuse the assigned project.”

“can you stop bringing that up,” bertrand says irritably. “it’s not like you have the guts to run away with her if she asked.”

kit’s gaze turns very, very cold. “B, take the folder now and i’ll do you a favor and pretend you never said that.”

silence falls.

bertrand takes the folder. “thank you for passing the message and mission, miss snicket.” he says, voice devoid of emotions. “consider your task here done.”

kit stands up and heads for the door. she turns back suddenly just before she exits. “by the way,” she says. “E says hello.”

#kit snicket #bertrand baudelaire #brotp: pencil bun and strawberry blond #vera.txt

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beatricebidelaire · 3 years

Text

At the bar of Hotel Denouement, a girl with long, black hair is sipping a cocktail. Her dark blue trench coat is taken off and neatly hanged at the coat rack near the entrance, revealing the black sweater originally underneath. She’s wearing a knee length checkered skirt. It isn’t black and white patterned, but for a moment she daydreams about playing chess on it anyway.

The woman meets her gaze and smiles ambiguously, like a chess piece she can’t see the true colors, can’t see the true side.

Kit has never been able to figure out Ellington Feint’s true side.

Loyalty has always been a clear cut concept to Kit. Us and them. Volunteers versus firestarters. You’re either an ally or you’re not. Loyalty doesn’t mean “we’re always right”, but rather “I still choose us even if we’re wrong”. Because it’s not about right or wrong, it’s about us versus them. Because you can’t get trapped in the dilemma of endlessly worrying what’s right and what’s wrong.

It’s about efficiency, about getting things done. It’s about sides.

You’re either one of us or you’re not.

Ellington Feint doesn’t fit neatly into either category of us or them. Doesn’t have a clear side Kit can pinpoint her to. She’s not a white piece nor a black one, she’s several shades of gray that shouldn’t belong on a chessboard where sides of pieces are clear cut.

She’s ambiguous. Unpredictable. She smiles a smile that could’ve meant anything, she gazes at Kit with her green eyes that make Kit get lost in the depth of them, she helps occasionally, but also hinders them sometimes. She’s hard to figure out.

She criticizes VFD and she scoffs scathingly at the other side of the schism and she steals important documents but sometimes shares it with Kit, if it suits her moods. She’s volatile. Which means she’s dangerous, but honestly, isn’t everyone? Kit’s a force of danger herself.

It’s us or it’s them or just irrelevant, but Ellington Feint is not us, is not them, and is certainly never ever irrelevant. Not to Kit, anyway.

“I don’t see what’s ambiguous about her, I don’t see how you can’t ‘figure her out’,” B remarks. “Anyone else doing the same thing you would’ve already labeled them not one of us. It’s not like you have never gotten involved with an enemy before, you still think of them as an enemy at the same time.” He adjusts his glasses, a pretentious move in Kit’s opinion. “The only reason you consider her ambiguous is that you actually like her and don’t want to label her an enemy.”

“Go away,” Kit says.

#kit snicket #ellington feint #kitlington #otp: gal pals behind the bars #vera.txt #bertrand baudelaire #brotp: pencil bun and strawberry blond

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