#use that thing on anyone who is wimpier than me. which is probably not a lot of people so you’re good’

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

... Nice | Ben Solo

Pairing: Ben Solo x Black!Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 3k

Request: My request is for basically a Jedi Plus Sized Black Reader who finds Ben after everyone is gone and heals him and is angry because Rey left him for dead and has the nerve to claim his family's name like her father wasn't the cause of their downfall in the first place. Reader helps him let go of his anger and hatred and over time he falls in love with her and it's just fluffy cuteness

Warnings: mentions of the things Kylo Ren did, angst-ish, a woman comforting and kind of but not really because I don’t believe in that fixing a man, fluff-ish, suggestive ending, mentions of the dyad, very light mentions of Rey, reader is a grey Jedi.

A/N: this isn’t as fluffy as the request asked for:(. I dissociated horribly while writing this and lost the idea I had— I still think it turned out okay. At least I hope it did. Let me know!

Gif credit: @loga-boga

☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎

Cold cheeks under your hands gained temperature as your body was slowly drained of energy. You miscalculated how much effort it would take to resuscitate Ben, when you felt his loss through the force something shifted inside you— for a Jedi who had always been in the grey area of the force you had felt way too much rage.

You knew the man under your touch deserved atonement, that the things he had done, the organization he had joined and led for a while were rotten. A part of you didn’t judge him when you weren’t aware of his past, the other stood against everything he had perpetrated upon millions of living beings— because of that, you solely let the force to guide you, it knew better than you after all, and it had led you to him.

Ben sat up, confused as to who the woman in front of him was. He softly took your hands off his face, curiously looking at you. “Why did you do that?”

You lifted a finger so he’d give you a moment to at least recover your breath. He seemed to understand you felt tired, Ben nodded slowly and stood up in wobbly legs.

He looked around, a pained semblance breaking through his face as he did so. You felt the urge of comforting him, the force pushing you to do it no matter how tired you felt. Your legs were more wobbly than his, but you achieved to stay on your feet.

Your steps were slow, calculated so you wouldn’t trip. Exegol’s environment was unnerving, the dark side of the force was strong there and although you were able to ignore it, for the most part, you would’ve rather been in a less depressing planet.

Ben rasped a question, “Is everyone gone?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled. You had to wait for Rey to leave to avoid a fight with her, mostly for your sake as a force user. You wouldn’t have been able to control yourself when you were aware she had decided to abandon Ben there.

He nodded, almost resigned, and let himself fall onto the sand. You were too tired to do anything else, so you sat down on the sand too, still eyeing him.

Ben was uncomfortable, the force told him to trust you, to follow you— but that place tempted him to stay, to go back to his very recent past. Had it all been worth it? He hoped it was, but hope had never favored him.

You grew tired of only sitting down, as any other living being would, and nodded up north. “I’ll be on the ship if you need anything.”

He found weird your choice of words, calling it the ship instead of your ship. Ben wasn’t sure if it was an invitation, but he took it as just that, his fear of being left again taking over him.

He followed you as the force guided him to do, watching your every step in worry. His confusion about why had you healed him was more palpable than ever, why would anyone save him, let alone someone like you? But he didn’t ask in case it had been a mistake, which was what had probably happened, he actually didn’t say anything to you— not even in the ship.

☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎

You wondered why the force had guided you to him as time passed. Ben was insufferable, always wanting to be the pilot, always in a bad mood. You tried to understand, but you had to be honest with yourself— you were starting to see the person Stormtroopers complained about. You remembered vividly, controlling your breathing to not give yourself away when you heard them talk about Kylo Ren’s tantrums. You had thought they were exaggerating, but now that you had met the supposed tamed version of the former Commander and former Supreme Leader of the First Order, you believed them completely.

Clearing your mind was a chore around him, your vision through the force was getting cloudy and you could feel yourself slipping. Not wanting any of that, you changed your sleeping schedule as soon as you landed on the planet of Ben’s choice.

Your plan backfired one night. Your mind started slipping, a burst of rage bubbled up in your stomach causing you to gasp. Images started flashing until you weren’t just seeing them but actually living them, at least through the force.

A vaguely familiar young man approached a tree in a beautiful forest. You yelled for him to stop, the fact that he ignored you only getting you angrier. A sinister voice spoke, enticing you to approach it— following the path the young man had taken, you encountered a very rare sight.

A deformed being embraced the young man as if comforting him. A chill ran down your spine and snapped you out of the... vision.

You were drenched in sweat, hands shaking due to the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Out of instinct you turned to your right and saw Ben there, glaring at you.

Before you could say anything, he asked, “why were you in my head?”

“I was meditating, it wasn’t intentional.”

“You’re bad at meditating then.”

Stars, he was such an ass. You cursed the force for being so adamant of having you near him, you truly did. “You’re bad at channeling your emotions which makes my mind slip!” you complained, standing up from the ship’s floor.

Ben looked down, nodding. “I don’t know how to. The dark side...” he trailed off, a sigh escaping him as he pushed his hair off his face. “Raw emotions are important.”

You extended your arm, offering your open palm to him. Ben stared at it, the marks of non-properly healed injuries catching his attention as the light made them contrast against your dark skin. He wondered, for the first time in such a long time that he assumed it was actually the only one, about something other than his suffering and wounds— had the scars been part of your training? A mission? Did they tell a broader story like the one on his face?

He tried not to flinch at the memory, how had he gotten the scar. The way your extended hand reminded him of his own after he killed Snoke and asked Rey to join him... he did what Rey hadn’t done and very slowly, afraid of you withdrawing your hand before he could do anything, placed his palm on top of yours.

You silently guided him outside, his planet of choice was quite nice for the most part and that gave you an advantage. You had your mind set on helping him, it would be a tough job, a slow one, one you shouldn’t have taken upon yourself because fixing him wasn’t your job— but you wanted to do it, to help undo a wrong.

Motioning for him to sit down on the grass, you did so too. He gripped your hand out of reflex, enjoying the sensation of being so close to someone. You didn’t react, allowing him to make himself comfortable.

“Close your eyes,” you instructed, voice lowering due to the nature of the instruction and how late it was.

He didn’t follow said instruction immediately, his eyes deviated to his side where you were sat as if making sure he had heard you correctly. Ben sighed heavily, muttering something that sounded like, “this is pointless,” before slowly fluttering his eyes closed.

“Focus on your breathing, nothing else. Even it out.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, you could hear he had done so with his teeth clenched. The gesture proved to you how hard it would be to help him— it only inspired you to try harder.

☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎

Ben insisted on gripping your hand as you guided him through meditation which for you wasn’t the right approach. Telling him that would have been setting yourself up for a fight, one you didn’t have the energy for.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t made progress, but his outbursts were still frequent. He’d yell out of nothing, punch things when they got into his way, closed off if he didn’t like what you had said or suggested... you would’ve thought him to be a child if you weren’t weirdly attracted to him.

The glimpses he had shown of the man behind all that anger and resentment gave you hope for him, for his future as a person, as a force user. They also intrigued you, his potential, how assertive he seemed to be, the way said glimpses made him look approachable.

You were coming back from meditating on your own when you heard him yell. At first, you didn’t think anything about it, used to it by how often you heard him lose control. It wasn’t until you heard a loud wimpier that you asserted Ben was having a bad dream.

The living arrangements you had found weren’t ideal, you preferred the ship than the two-bedroom and a bathroom place. You were used to your captain’s chamber, to going through different systems and exploring them. As you knocked on his door you wondered if giving that up had been the right thing to do just because the force had said so.

The whimpers and yells continued, your instincts kicked in. Opening the door with the force, you turned the lights on, softly calling Ben’s name to not startle him. Your attempts didn’t work so you approached the bed, his sweaty forehead filling your field of vision.

“Ben,” you called for him, a little louder than before. No answer other than more whimpers. You didn’t have any other choice but shaking him awake with a hand firmly on his muscular bicep.

He jumped, prompting you to step back. He sat up, breathing heavily as the tears that had prickled his eyes as he slept rolled down his cheeks. You looked away, feeling you were intruding too much. Hearing him sniff broke your heart, the sorrow oozing from him into you in exchange from the guilt doing the same from you to him as you realized you had briefly complained about not doing what you wanted when he had never even being given the choice to know what he wished to do.

You sat down on the edge of the bed in case he wanted company, his sweaty hand found yours as soon as you did so. His grip was bruising, almost crushing your smaller hand with his gigantic one. With a little bit of struggle, you rubbed your thumb against the back of his hand in hopes it would help him calm down and in the process lighten his grip.

The effect wasn’t quite there, his grip did lighten a little bit but because Ben broke down crying. The shake of his body transferred to you through his hand, the sobs racking through him bouncing against the almost empty room. You slid your hand off his, placing your open palms on his shoulders. Your intention was to hug him, but you didn’t want to overstep his boundaries.

He threw himself into your arms, however. You shifted to be more comfortable, your arms slowly wrapping around his neck as he hid his face in your chest. Letting him cry it all out, you rubbed his upper back to assure him it was fine. He embraced you tightly from the middle, again afraid you’d leave him if he didn’t do so.

“Do you need anything? Something to dr—“ he interrupted your question by pulling you closer.

You understood he didn’t want to be alone so you just continued hugging him, slipping your fingers through his damp hair and caressing it.

“I’m tired,” he mumbled.

Pulling away just enough to look at him, you asked, “do you want me to find you a sleep-aid?”

He sniffed, shaking his head. Observing his hair tickled your cheek as he moved his head, Ben parted from you completely. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah.” You made a motion with your hand for him to go on, making yourself comfortable and making sure you were facing him.

Ben stuttered, nervous of saying what he was thinking and feeling out loud. He said it, very lowly in what you could only describe as a mumble. “I don’t know who I am.”

His confession wasn’t surprising. You felt his conflict through the force, you had felt it for a long time if you were completely honest. “Who do you want to be?”

He tilted his head, looking up in thought. Ben then shrugged, “it’s not worth it.”

Sighing, you stood up from the bed. “I can’t help you if you don’t want to be helped, Ben.”

“I want to be helped!”

“Act like it!” you snapped at him, “the force is with you, I am here with you— but you need yourself too and until you don’t get that through your head, we won’t make any progress.”

He stopped speaking to you, he avoided your presence at any chance. You imagined it was for the best, he needed time to find himself and you needed time to focus.

You missed him enough for the force to try and pull you toward him. You resisted it as much as you could, sure it was more wishful thinking than anything else. You had made yourself believe the force wanted both of you together because of your crush on him, but every time you were near him his thoughts would slip and in every one of them, Rey was present.

With them being the dyad and all, it was normal for him to have strong feelings for her. But you wished you were her— well, you wished you were in her place in relation to him. You had no interest in politics, that was why you had never picked a side— you didn’t belong anywhere but with the force and the force had guided you to someone who belonged by nature with the opposite of what you were.

A part of you wanted to leave. If it wasn’t because you wanted to be there for Ben, you would’ve been in another system days ago. The force said you were doing the right thing; you weren’t sure.

☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎・・・・・☆︎

“(Y/N)?” Ben called for you quite timidly, his right hand gripping the doorframe as he stuck his head into the room.

You took your attention away from your book to look at him. “Yes?”

“Do you want to train with me?”

“Uh...” you coughed, realizing you could offend him by hesitating. “Sure, yeah! Now?”

“Now.”

“I’ll get changed.”

You spent more time changing your clothes than you needed— you weren’t even sure of having needed the change of outfit but it was imperative for you to clear your mind and doing it helped.

His stance as he waited for you startled you, it wasn’t like anything you had seen from him. His back was straight, but his shoulders weren’t tense, his jaw wasn’t clenched, his eyes looked calm— brighter even.

What surprised you the most was his fighting style, he’d slip from time to time and allow his emotions to get to him but he seemed to have trained hard on his own to snap himself out of it.

He suddenly towered over you, making you curse under your breath— you had gotten too distracted by his progress than now he had the upper hand. Ben smirked which prompted you to step to the side. Except you couldn’t because he trapped you in place with the force.

He leaned in, the tip of his nose ghostly touching yours. “I’ve missed you.”

You would’ve rolled your eyes if you could. He was the one who had ignored you and cast you to the side for weeks!

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he explained. Realizing you hadn’t spoken out loud, he undid the force stasis.

Ben’s eyes were wildly tracing your face, waiting for an explanation you didn’t have. You weren’t really sure if he had read your mind or if he was talking about something else.

He made your mind slip so often that you couldn’t help but think you had unconsciously allowed him to read it because he had you in a vulnerable position. He didn’t seem to share the assessment.

“Can you hear me?” he asked cautiously.

“I can.”

Wide-eyed, you stared up at him. He hadn’t opened his mouth to speak but you had. You shook your head, “I’m tired, I should get some rest.”

Before you could turn around to go back, he caught your hand in his. “That’s why I missed you...”

“What?”

He explained, “the force. It wants us together.”

“I know,” you deadpanned. “But the force is... it could be wrong, couldn’t it? Why would it want you near someone when it bonded you to another person?”

He winced at your comment, shaking his head. “It’s different. My mother—“ he swallowed harshly so his voice wouldn’t break, “the point is the force doesn’t have limits.”

You stared past him, at the sky. It hadn’t looked as pretty as it was looking that night— at least not during your stay. The stars shone so brightly that although it was late the greenery was perfectly lit.

“I’m not used to this,” you confessed. “People, staying longer than a few nights at a place... strong feelings.”

Ben hummed, “well, I can’t say the same but,” he sighed, interlocking his fingers with yours, “it feels... nice.”

It did, very nice. He tugged on your hand to pull you closer, waiting for you to say something. You kissed him instead of speaking, and he snaked his free arm around you instead of asking anything else.

His lips were a little dry, mouth hot and touch warm. The kiss was as tender as one in a situation as overwhelming could kiss someone— at least it started like that.

You barely made it to the living room when he asked if he could take your robe off and although you hesitated for a moment because you were sure he wasn’t used to women like you, you trusted your gut and the force and gave your consent.

He was a passionate lover. It might have been the force at play but you had never felt so comfortable with a partner, so protected, so loved.

The force knew what it was doing when it guided you to Exegol after all.

#ben solo x reader #ben solo x plus size reader #ben solo x black!reader #ben solo x black!plus size reader #plus size reader #black reader #plus size fanfiction #ben solo #kylo ren #star wars x reader #star wars x plus size reader

[vfdbaudelairefile13]

Misery Loves Company part 1

                                          Chapter One: 

The One Where Klaus and Sunny Receive Some Rather Unpleasant News

Now the story of the Baudelaire children starts happily, but do not be fooled by this false sense of security. Although the children may seem happy reading and biting on this grey and cloudy day on Briny Beach this is the sad beginning to their tragic tale and although I beg of you to look away, I know very well that curiosity killed the cat and you are probably very curious about the Baudelaire case as was I and as was my associate. This is why you should listen to me when I tell you to turn away and don’t look back. It’s all downhill from here and although I have made it my duty to research this tale, you do not have to. You can look away now and interpret the rest of the story any way you’d like. With no misery, no death, and no Count Olaf. But if you insist on reading further…

Their misfortune began one day at Briny Beach. The Baudelaire parents had asked Klaus if he could spend an afternoon at the beach with his baby sister, Sunny. At first, he was reluctant to go, he much rather stay inside the family library and read for hours and hours but when he noticed that it was grey and cloudy outside, Klaus jumped at the opportunity. Both Baudelaire children enjoyed when the beach was grey and foggy, this meant that Briny Beach would be desolate. When it was sunny out, Briny Beach was packed with tourists who were usually loud and obnoxious, but on days like this, the Baudelaire children found the beach more or less to themselves. 

So after quickly packing a few books into Sunny’s diaper bag, Klaus and Sunny bid their parents goodbye and left to catch the rickety trolley. The trolley ride was always Klaus’ least favorite part, his parents had always told him about stranger danger and if he were by himself it wouldn’t bother him as much but everyone liked to tell him how cute Sunny was or how precious she was. Klaus wasn’t bothered by the many compliments that were hailed Sunny’s way, it was when strangers would want to touch Sunny’s head or her cheek. It always freaked him out, man or woman, if Klaus didn’t know you then you weren’t allowed to touch his baby sister. Period. Point blank. Klaus was never too sure of anyone’s real intentions when they adored Sunny. Klaus wasn’t a tall young man and he wasn’t as tough as his father, so it made him uneasy. Anyone could push him down and take Sunny. So as he made his way to the back of the trolley car and sat down he placed Sunny on his lap using both of his arms to wrap around her like a seatbelt.

Sunny noticed that her brother was uneasy and looked up at him smiling, “bite,” she said simply. Sunny was an infant and because of this, she had a very limited vocabulary. She could say things like, “bite”, “book”, “teeth”, “mommy”, “dada”, and her brother’s favorite, “Klaus”. The rest of her diction was made up of unintelligible shrieks that only her family truly understood. But even when she spoke words that everyone could understand, the one simple word could mean a whole sentence, like for instance, when Sunny told her brother, “bite” that was her way of saying, “No need to worry, if anyone tries to take me I’ll bite them,” which was true. Sunny Baudelaire was armed with four very sharp teeth that she loved using to bite things and a very clever wit that matched that of her brother’s. Her father always said that spending all her time with Klaus had good and bad effects on her. Sunny was quite unusual for a baby.

Klaus smiled back at his sister, “I know. I know. You’re so big and bad, you don’t need me anymore,” he joked, putting on a pouty face.

Sunny rolled her eyes and giggled at this. “Polean,” which meant something along the lines of, “Oh, quit being so insecure. You’re my big brother. I’m always going to need you, silly,” 

Klaus smiled at this. He knew Sunny was more than capable of biting someone if they tried to hurt her or even Klaus, but he liked the feeling of being needed by someone else. Klaus hates to admit it but he was short for his age. He hated how both his parents towered over him. At a little older than twelve, Klaus still looked as though he was ten and although he didn’t have any older siblings to pick on him for it, it still bugged him. His mother keeps telling him that someday soon he will endure a growth spurt and possibly end up taller than her. Klaus wished for that day almost every night. If he felt more confident and more masculine than he wouldn’t be this uneasy on the trolley. It also didn’t help Klaus that with his glasses, he looked like a wimpier version of Harry Potter. Klaus remembers when his father first took him to get glasses, Klaus was a little nervous about the optometrist but he was also annoyed at the fact that he even needed glasses. His father had explained to him that on most people, glasses made them look more intelligent than they are. They even make people look more sophisticated than they are. Now, Klaus Baudelaire did not need glasses to make people think he was intelligent, because he was intelligent. The Baudelaire parents had an enormous library in their mansion filled with thousands of books on nearly any subject and Klaus spent a rather absurd amount of his life filling his head with the contents of their pages and everything he read, he remembered. Being only twelve, Klaus had not read every single book in the library. There were books on high shelves that he hasn’t gotten to yet and was slightly nervous to even attempt to read them after the atlas fiasco when he was ten. But Klaus had read nearly three-fourths of the entire library, which was an impressive feat all on its own but was even more impressive when you remember that Klaus was still just a mere child. 

Klaus noticed their stop was next and shakily stood up still clutching Sunny close. He wondered why his parents had ushered him and his sister out this morning, he shuddered at the thought that maybe they wanted alone time. Klaus hoped this wasn’t the case because although he loves Sunny with every fiber of his being, he did not want anymore younger siblings. One was enough. One was more than he can handle. 

He placed their blanket down on the softest spot on the beach and then set Sunny down opening her diaper bag pulling out the books he had stuffed in there. He had brought three books with him, Crawly Things From the Deep, The Cat in the Hat, and Disney’s Storybook Collection. As Sunny found a hard enough rock to bite, Klaus sat next to her and handed her the Dr. Seuss classic. 

Klaus had taken it upon himself to teach Sunny to read. He loved reading to her but he also loved teaching her things. He liked knowing that he was helping his sister with crucial skills like reading and talking. Klaus grabbed his book and sat next to his sister ready to help her with her book if she were to get stuck. The two children spent nearly an hour reading, biting and fetching. Sunny only asked for Klaus’ help with her book a few times which made him super proud of her. 

“You know, Mother and Father would be so proud of you, Sunny. You’re reading a book almost all by yourself,” he said happily.

“Utoo” she replied, which meant, “they’d be proud of you for teaching me”.

Both siblings smiled and returned to their activities only to be interrupted by Sunny pointing in the direction of the road and shrieking, “Gack!”, which probably meant, “Look at that mysterious figure emerging from the fog!”

Sure enough, Klaus looked in the direction his sister pointed and immediately saw what she was talking about. There was a tall figure striding toward the Baudelaire children, which made Klaus a bit uneasy. Quickly he picked up Sunny in one arm and held his book in the other. It wasn’t much but if he needed to, he’d throw the book at the figure’s head and start running away with Sunny.

“What do you think it is?” Klaus asked Sunny who simply shrugged. Sunny could tell her brother was tensing up due to the unnerving feeling of not knowing what was to happen next. 

“Unnone,” Sunny whispered to Klaus as if reading his mind, she probably meant something along the lines of, “It only seems scary because of all the mist,”

Klaus simply nodded and as the figure reached them, the children saw with relief that it was not anybody frightening or anyone who would want to intentionally hurt them; but rather somebody they knew: Mr. Poe. Mr. Poe was one of the Baudelaire parents’ friends and the children had an easy time remembering him because he was always coughing into a handkerchief. Mr. Poe stopped right in front of the children, Klaus quickly handed the book to Sunny and shook Mr. Poe’s hand. 

“How do you do?” 

“Odo yow!” Sunny shrieked.

“Fine, thank you.” Mr. Poe replied shaking Klaus’ hand. Klaus and Sunny couldn’t help but notice that Mr. Poe looked rather sad. For a few moments, nobody said anything, which started to worry Klaus. All he could ask himself was why was Mr. Poe here at Briny Beach in a suit nonetheless.

“It’s a nice day,” Klaus said finally breaking the uncomfortable and eerie silence.

“Yes, it is a nice day,” Mr. Poe said absently staring at the two children. “I am afraid I have some very bad news for you children.”

Klaus and Sunny looked at one another and then back at Mr. Poe with great anticipation. 

“Your parents,” Mr. Poe said pausing to begin a fit of coughing, which irritated Klaus, “have perished in a terrible fire.”

The two children didn’t say anything. Klaus felt his heart shatter and Sunny, who was a bit too young to fully understand what Mr. Poe was saying simply dropped the book she was holding for Klaus.

“They perished in a fire that destroyed your entire home. I’m very, very sorry to tell you this, my dears.”

Klaus took his eyes off Mr. Poe and stared out at the ocean. No. No. This was just some cruel joke. Some super cruel, super unfunny joke that Mr. Poe was playing on Sunny and me. 

“Perished,” Mr. Poe said, “means ‘killed’.”

“We know what ‘perished’ fucking means!” Klaus shouted at Mr. Poe crossly. Usually, Mr. Poe would have lectured Klaus about using that type of language especially in front of an impressionable infant but Mr. Poe was willing to let it slide right now. 

Sunny looked from Mr. Poe to her brother and notice her brother was crying. Crying harder than she’s ever seen him cry. 

“Syako” Sunny whimpered which was her way of saying, “It’s okay, Klaus.”

Klaus just shook his head but didn’t say anything. Mr. Poe could not be serious right now. There was no way his parents and his magnificent home was gone. 

“The official fire department arrived, of course, but they were too late. The entire house was engulfed in fire. It burned to the ground.” Mr. Poe started, “When they say it is safe to, I will allow you to see what is...left of your home. Although I am sad to inform you it isn’t much.”

Klaus pictured the family library and all the books that it held going up in flames. Now he’d never read all of them. Sunny pictured her nursery and all of her teething rings and assorted toys melting away from the heat of the blaze. Both siblings dared not imagine what it would look like for their parents to burn to a crisp.

Mr. Poe coughed several times into his handkerchief before continuing. “I was sent to retrieve you here, and to take you to my home, where you’ll stay for some time while we figure things out. I am the executor of your parents’ estate. That means I will be figuring out where you children will go.”

Although he said he was the executor, Klaus felt like Mr. Poe was the executioner. He simply walked down the beach to him and Sunny and changed their lives forever. 

“Come with me,” Mr. Poe said and held out his hand. Klaus quickly packed up Sunny’s diaper bag and took his hand and in that manner, the two Baudelaire children became the two Baudelaire orphans as they walked away from the beach and from their previous lives. 

My associate and I have spent months of research and so many long nights of crying ourselves to sleep trying to discover the precise cause of the dreadful Baudelaires fire. And all we have learned is that neither the official fire department nor the volunteer fire department arrived in time to extinguish the flames, and within seconds the entire mansion was engulfed in flames. 

It’s useless for me to describe how terrible Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire felt in the time that followed. If you’ve ever lost anyone important to you then you already know how it feels and if you haven’t considered yourself lucky because you can't possibly imagine. For the Baudelaire orphans, it was especially awful because they had lost both their parents at the same time, and for several days they felt so miserable they could scarcely get out of bed. Klaus found he had little interest in books and Sunny bit things with less enthusiasm. 

Their time at Mr. Poe’s house was a dreadful one. Not only was Mr. Poe never around which honestly didn’t really bug the Baudelaire’s that much, but his wife was also always at home. Mrs. Poe was the editor in chief of the Daily Punctilio and all she enjoyed talking about were her articles and how excited her readers would be to read it. Klaus always rolled his eyes whenever she squealed “Wait until the readers of the Daily Punctilio read this!” Klaus would honestly have chosen to never read again if all he had to read was that rubbish. The Baudelaire parents were never shy to discuss their disdain for that specific newspaper, his parents never went into great detail about it but his mother did say once that the Daily Punctilio had caused her two great losses in life. Klaus never understood exactly what that meant and even when he had asked for his mother to clarify, she would quickly change the subject by stating that fate had decided what was to be done and she was happy with her current life even though she had experienced those losses. Mr. Poe also had two sons, Edgar and Albert. Klaus and Sunny didn’t really care for them either and hated the fact that they had to share a room with them. Mr. and Mrs. Poe had set up a small mattress on the floor in between the Poe brothers’ beds and even with Sunny being an infant, it was still a tight squeeze. Their stay at the Poe household only made them miss their parents and their home even more. So it made the Baudelaire orphans very happy when Poe announced one night during dinner that he had finally made arrangements for the two children. 

“Good,” said Albert, “Now we can get our room back. I’m tired of sharing it. Klaus is always moping around, and is never any fun.”

“And the baby bites,” Edgar said.

Klaus just rolled his eyes in their direction, “Where will we be going?”  he asked nervously. Although he was more than happy to leave Mr. Poe’s house he was nervous about having a guardian. 

After a long fit of coughs, Mr. Poe replied, “I have made arrangements for you to be raised by a distant relative who lives on the other side of town. His name is Count Olaf.”

Klaus and Sunny looked at one another unsure of what to think. They had never met a Count Olaf. Klaus doesn’t even remember a time where he had even heard that name. 

“Your parents’ will instructs that you be raised in the most convenient way possible by your closest living relative…” Mr. Poe began.

“How is Count Olaf related to us, exactly?” Klaus asked.

“He is either a third cousin four times removed, or a fourth cousin three times removed,” Mr. Poe stated after another fit of coughing.

“Roove,” Sunny stated meaning, “I think someone’s head is removed.”

Klaus made a soft chuckle at this quickly glancing Sunny’s way. “Mr. Poe I don’t believe that’s what ‘closest living relative’ means,”

“Of course it is.” Mr. Poe replied, “A consultant named Yessica Haircut informed me that the phrase meant closest geometrically,”

Klaus looked at Mr. Poe with a face of pure confusion. “I think you mean geographically. But either way that isn’t what that term means,”

Mr. Poe frowned. “Klaus didn’t your parents ever teach you that it’s impolite to argue with adults,”

Before Klaus could answer, Mrs. Poe came into the room holding what looked like two newspapers. “Look who made the front page!” she squealed and to the children's’ dismay she held up an article detailing the fire that ruined their lives as they knew it and an article with a picture of them looking forlorn and miserable with the caption, “We Feel Terrible and We Miss Our Parents Very Much.”

Klaus sighed as Sunny shrieked, “Razzi!” which meant something along the lines of, “It’s kind of fucked up to exploit children's’ misery for your horrid newspaper!”

Mr. Poe looked at his wife, “Honey, maybe not in front of the…” He said gesturing to Klaus and Sunny. 

“Well, I thought it would cheer them up. They’re on the front page! A lot of people wait a lifetime for that! Now everyone will know that your house was destroyed and you’re orphans now!”

“May we be excused,” Klaus asked frowning. He didn’t want to continue this conversation. He couldn’t fathom how a grown woman couldn’t understand that two children wouldn’t want their misery splashed on the front page of any newspaper, let alone one so shitty and horrible.

Mr. Poe nodded, “You two should pack up your things, tomorrow morning I will take you to see what remains of your home and then off to your new guardian. Isn’t that exciting?”

Klaus and Sunny didn’t answer. Klaus merely stood up and picked up Sunny holding her close. The two orphans could not imagine things getting worse than they already were. So as Klaus packed up the few belongings he and Sunny had to their names, he pondered about what life with Count Olaf would be like. Although he was sure that his parents had never mentioned any Counts, he was curious. Maybe this Count Olaf was a kind man, who would have a nice room filled with books and maybe he was preparing a room in his house to be a nursery for Sunny, like the one the Baudelaire parents had set up next to Klaus’ room. As Klaus and Sunny spent their last night in Mr. Poe’s house both children wondered what was next in their life and if life was ever going to feel the same again. 

The next morning, the ride to their old mansion seemed interminably long. Klaus and Sunny had a huge pit in their stomachs as they got closer and closer to the remains of their old home. During the few days they spent at the Poe residence, both Baudelaires couldn’t help but imagine what their house looked like now. As Poe stopped his car in front of the dark, burnt remains of the Baudelaire mansion, but children realized that they could not possibly imagine the damage the fire had caused. The structure of the mansion was destroyed. You could scarcely tell a beautiful, well-kept home had been here. The air smelled of smoke and ash even days after the fire. Klaus held Sunny close to him as he absentmindedly began to walk around the rubble. All he could see was charred wood, and piles and piles of ash. Nothing survived the fire, it seemed. Paintings and photographs that once hung proudly on the walls were gone. Nothing but ash and charred wood. Their mother’s favorite vase was a shattered mess on the ground.  Klaus’ favorite pen had turned to ash along with the entire Baudelaire library. For Klaus, this was the worst room to see, he knelt down and touched a pile of ash wondering which books it was comprised of. His favorite reading chair was utterly destroyed. All of Sunny’s teething rings had melted. When they reached what Klaus assumed to be the remains of Sunny’s nursery, Sunny let out a small cry because everything her parents had given her was gone. All the cute decorations of cute little sharks and piranhas were a distant memory. Her mobile had fallen inside her crib and melted while the crib itself melted and charred. The children could see glimpses and traces of the beautiful home they once shared with their parents but it was all gone. Fragments of their grand piano made Klaus think of their father and how he loved to play a tune while their mother would sing. A scorched cushion of a window seat in the living room reminded Sunny of when her mother would sit and read to her. Everything was gone. The fire left them with nothing.

Mr. Poe after yet another fit of coughing broke the silence, “I’ve never gone through anything like this but I can imagine just how you feel.”

“I don’t think you can,” Klaus replied in a low voice trying his best to hold back tears. 

“Gone,” Sunny chimed in unenthusiastically.

“I just want to assure you Baudelaires that you have absolutely nothing…”

“We have absolutely nothing,” Klaus said absentmindedly.

After a sad sigh, Mr. Poe replied, “...to worry about.”

As they passed by their father’s old desk, Sunny peered into and saw something that caught her eye, “Wadoo yee,” she shrieked reaching her hand out to point at the mysterious object. Klaus quickly looked down and saw exactly what Sunny saw. As he went to pick it up half of it crumbled into ash before the two children’s eyes. 

“As the executor of your parents' estate I will be handling all matters concerning everything they left behind,” Mr. Poe began.

Still looking at the object skeptically, Klaus replied, “What did they leave behind?”

“Financial security!” 

Klaus continued to examine the object as Mr. Poe continued to ramble on. 

“Your parents left behind an enormous fortune which will be yours when Klaus comes of age. Until then you will live with your dear Count Olaf, who will raise you in place of your parents.” Mr. Poe explained.

After a few more moments in the burnt remains of their old house, Mr. Poe gestured for Klaus and Sunny to follow him back to his car so he could drop them off to Count Olaf’s home. 

“Say goodbye, Baudelaires,” Mr. Poe said.

As he drove away, Klaus and Sunny couldn’t help but watch as they drove away from their previous lives. Both siblings felt miserable and felt alone, but as Klaus wiped tears from Sunny’s cheek.

“Goodbye.” Sunny whispered as she hugged her brother. 

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[douchebagbrainwaves]

BEFORE THE SEGWAY

What differentiates the different languages then becomes source code volume. In this case it was was from someone in Egypt and written in such an informal style could have anything useful to say about it has some of the money would go to the founders instead of the broken air conditioner in your studio apartment. But, like us, then they release it. Imagine talking to a roomful of people than 15. It worries me a bit to see brokenness, because you couldn't establish the level of university you'd need as a seed. It's pretty clear now that even by using the word convergence we were giving TV too much credit. Do you, er, want a printout of yesterday's news?1 First Round that they performed one. They're responding to the market. Nerds tend to eschew formality of any sort. There was an authenticity that everyone who walked in could sense.

In that respect it's a black hole. Nothing seems to stick. You have to be dragged kicking and screaming toward, it may be both. It's like calling a car a horseless carriage. She says to him: Here's the thing: If you want to start a startup, managing them is one of the defining qualities of organizations since there have been two ways of thinking about what employers want, like you, but you can stay big by being nice, but you don't need to. It will be interesting to try and write down what you said; expect 80% of the ideas writing would have generated. That will increasingly be COOs rather than CEOs. There's a limit to the number of startups is that there is a kind of deficit spending.2 I'm reluctant to suggest that our investors were nothing but a drag on us.

That sounds good. That would definitely happen if programmers started to use it. In the rivalry between Perl and Python at their own game.3 This lets them do a kind of suggestion box, because users were desperately waiting for what they want from me. More recently the recipe is more to setting up a company than to be built on NT. Eventually the pimps and drug dealers notice that the doctors and lawyers have switched from Cadillac to Lexus, and do things that might look bad. 1 out fast, then improve it based on users' reactions. But what does that really mean? Good design resembles nature.

But they work as if they used it to make money from it, because our definition of success is that the winning model for most applications will be the last you have. Notes Macros very close to good ideas, but that if someone wanted to design a good language. So what's interesting? For every rich person you probably shouldn't try angel investing unless you think of one that began in the 1980s. I never actually gave it, because there is more competition between investors, which is not very good in Europe. I started writing this. The reason risk is always proportionate to reward. And the success of a society is better at measurement than others, but the number of users you can support per server is the critical question for anyone interested in language design, I ask myself what I've found life is too short for, the word offers has a probability of. For example, it's ok to make career decisions on the fly, like a headset or router. Good PR firms use the same trick of enriching himself at the company's expense by selling them overpriced components. You.

This may not be sufficiently focused. Even if the professor let you change your sales conversations just a little from do you want to be, in any kind of special training. Arguably it's an interesting failed experiment. In 1989 some clever researchers tracked the eye movements of radiologists as they scanned chest images for signs of where you stand. The more general version of this article. And although the first may be weakening because it's now so cheap. If you succeed, you'll have less competition, like software for human resources departments. Use succinct languages. That kind of experience is hard to do in wimpier languages, but by doing labs and problem sets. Computers are a familiar example. If you're eating at a restaurant you suspect is bad, your best chances for beating insiders are obviously in fields where the rules change. What's special about startup ideas?4

Make it really good for code search, for example, didn't have numbers. Most only come into effect if the company gets sold at a low intensity for forty years, you work like hell for four.5 It wouldn't pay. Ed. A great programmer doesn't merely do the same thing as money. Though the nature of fashion to be invisible. Not in New York.

Notes

The reason you don't get any money till all the potential magnitude of the Industrial Revolution, England was already the richest of their times. 54 million, and the valuation is the case. Actually it's better if everything just works. But although for-profit prison companies and prison guard unions both spend a lot of problems, and that often creates a rationalization for doing so much more attractive to investors.

But not all, the apparent misdeeds of corp dev is to how Henry Ford got started as a process rather than given by other people. Compromising a server could cause such damage that photography has done to their returns.

Founders also worry that taking an angel. No one seems to have a notebook to write and deals longer to write legislation that distinguishes them, not an efficient market in this respect.

If you extrapolate another 20 years. But so many still make you take out order.

But a company doesn't have dangerous local maxima, the best case. Many of these titles vary too much to suggest that we wouldn't have.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #effect #drug #thing #model #hole #server #till #times #dealers