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onlydreamofmysoul · 4 years ago

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Let Them Eat Cake Part V

Hey guys! Sorry for the delay with this chapter, but this one is a long one so I hope that makes up for it!

Tonight on The Great British Bake Off…

“It’s all burned!”

“Oh my god, I forgot to put them in.”

“It’s all curdled. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Remus woke up that morning with a bitter taste in his mouth. That was happening a lot lately. He got ready in a series of mechanic motions, showering, dressing, brushing his teeth. He met Lily outside the hotel, and she being the magical being that she was, had a coffee in a take-away cup ready for him.

“Hey,” She said softly. “You ready for today?”

Remus bit the inside of his cheek. “I suppose I’ll have to be.”

Six days earlier...

“Take a walk with me?” Sirius asked and Remus nodded his affirmations. As if he could say no. He followed Sirius out of the tent and they started strolling in the opposite direction of the hotel, avoiding the crowds of the bakers and crew packing up for the day.

“So you made it.” Sirius said after a moment or two of silence. Remus sneaked a peek at the other man out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah,” He said scratching the back of his neck. “If I had gone home I’m not sure if I ever would have been able to eat chocolate again, and that would be a big problem since I think it’s my main food group.”

Sirius burst out laughing and Remus blushed a little, pleased. They were well out of ear shot of anyone else, almost out of sight too. There was a massive oak tree in the middle of an open field and Sirius stepped onto the grass grinning.

“C’mere, I found a cool spot.”

Remus bit down a smile as he followed him, taking a breath in when they rounded the wide trunk and found a wide swing hanging from a branch, the trunk of the tree completely shielding them from view.

“This is amazing.” Remus said, reaching out to touch the rope, running his fingers over the wooden planks forming a seat. “When did you find this place?”

Sirius shrugged and sat on one side of it, the swing tilting ever so slightly with the imbalance. “Some time in the first few days.” He patted the space still left open, “You gonna sit?”

“Who else knows about it?” Remus asked, rounding the swing.

“As far as I know… just me. And now you.”

Remus sat and the ropes evened out again. Remus rocked back and forth on his toes a little, the swing swaying soothingly with him.

“It’s brilliant, I love it.”

Sirius smiled. “Yeah, I thought you would.”

Today...

“Guys! Hang on!” Remus heard but before he had even turned around, someone crashed into him.

“Woah!” He exclaimed, stumbling a little because suddenly he had a bubbly pink haired woman on his back.

“Hi Tonks.” He said laughing, when he had recovered his footing. Tonks wrapped her legs tightly around his waist.

“Don’t let the cardigans fool you,” She said to Lily seriously, “He’s deceptively strong.”

Lily smiled, Peter falling in line with them. “I can see that.”

“Ooh! Bake Off love!” Marlene exclaimed, snapping a couple of pictures of them all together, Tonks still on Remus’ back. “These will be great on Instagram.”

“Oh great, now there’s gonna be theories of us dating.” Remus said dryly, even though he smiled a little. “What do you think our ship name will be?”

“Ronks.” Lily snorted and no one could stop themselves from laughing at it.

“Is it bad that I kinda like it?” Tonks said, still giggling. “Like it’s ridiculous but that's why you’ve gotta love it.”

Remus nodded and bumped their hips together playfully. “It’s a perfect fit for a perfect couple.” He teased, then ignored the slight pang in his chest, even at his own words.

“Wait, you guys are dating?” Peter asked, completely bewildered and Remus shot him an incredulous look.

“Of course we’re not, we’re just joking Pete.”

Tonks gasped, her hand covering her chest. “Are you saying you wouldn’t want to be with me?”

“Of course not my love, we would be spectacular.”

“You can see why I’d get confused,” Peter mumbled to Lily.

“But,” Remus continued, drawing out the word before quickly spitting out the next sentence as he laughed a little. “I’m much to gay for that.”

“Here, here!” Tonks cried and they joked all the way down to the set. “Semi finals next week, I can’t believe we’re here already.”

“Oh my god I’m so not ready to think about that yet.” Lily chimed in, Remus and Peter nodding their agreements.

Remus felt his shoulders tense as they entered the tent, but after a quick glance around, he realised Sirius wasn’t there. He probably shouldn’t be so relieved, he would have to see him eventually so really Remus was just prolonging the inevitable but you can’t blame a guy for wanting to avoid an awkward situation. He stood at his station, but turned around so he was leaning on Lily’s counter as they chatted. He stayed that way until the producers started yelling for everyone to get ready and he turned around. At some point Sirius had come into the room. Remus didn’t meet his gaze.

“Welcome back! This week on The Great British Bake Off… It’s pudding week!”

“For our signature challenge,” Sirius continued, “Our judges have asked that you make a bread and butter pudding.”

“Sounds simple right?.” James grinned. “The catch is, you have to make it with bread you bake yourself.”

“Your time starts now, ready?”

“Set.”

“Bake!”

Remus looked away from the head of the tent as quickly as he could, ready to have an excuse to not look at Sirius. Especially Sirius in a leather jacket. He gathered his ingredients and set to work. Bread and butter pudding. That he could do.

Six days earlier...

“So,” Remus said as he swayed them back and forth. “Here we are.”

Sirius smiled. “Here we are.”

Remus bit his lip for a moment trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to say. So, you like my mouth? You wanted to talk? Do you think about me the same way I think about you?

Instead he blurted out; “What’s your favourite cake?”

Sirius blink then looked at him with this startled but pleased smile. Like he was surprised by the question, but also like he had known Remus’ words before Remus even spoke them.

“Lemon meringue pie.”

“That’s not a cake.”

“But it’s still my favourite.”

Remus pursed his lips to hide his smile. “That's… sweeter than you usually like.”

Sirius’ small smile grew. “Correct as always. It’s less to do with taste and more to do with memories I guess.”

Remus tilted his head. “Yeah? What memories?”

Sirius laughed a little. “Inquisitive today aren’t we?”

Remus raised an eyebrow. His signature move. “Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?” He asked pointedly.

Sirius looked at him knowingly for a moment, but then shook his head minutely. “James’ mum used to make it every Sunday. She even taught me how, after I’d badger her to make more.”

Remus grinned. “She sounds great.”

“Sirius relaxed a bit, leaning back against the rope and tucking on foot under his knee. If Remus did it, he would have looked ridiculous and would most likely have fallen right off the swing and flat on his face on the ground. But when Sirius did it, the movement retained all the airs Sirius brought to the world, carefree, casual. elegant.

“So, how do you feel after this week?”

Remus groaned. “Can we not talk about Bake Off? I mean I love it and all but I need a break.”

Sirius chuckled. “That’s fair. I suppose I could use one too.”

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do?” Remus asked and it wasn’t until he said it that he realised it sounded almost flirty.

Surprise flickered in Sirius’ grey eyes and his gaze flickered from Remus’ own amber eyes to his lips. Remus tilted his head ever so slightly, tongue wetting his lips a little as his breath hitched and they were both leaning in, closer and closer until-

“-Remus.” Sirius said voice low, jaw clenching even as his eyes stayed trained on Remus’ lips. “We shouldn’t.”

Remus frowned, the spell breaking a little. “What? I don’t understand.”

“We work together.” Sirius said, sitting back once again and turning his head away. “It would be frowned upon.”

Remus looked at him in disbelief. “Who says anyone has to know?”

Sirius tugged on the tie in his hair and the dark waves tumbled down to his shoulders before he ran his fingers through it. “You’re looking strong for winning this thing. I don’t want anyone doubting your integrity.”

Remus shook his head in pure and utter confusion. “But Sirius, you’re not a judge. I don’t think it would even be possible for you to ruin my integrity.”

Sirius just shook his head silently. Throat tight, Remus stood up and took a few steps away. He looked back at Sirius and paused.

“What about everything you said? Sirius, I know you were flirting with me. And just forty minutes ago you asked me to come here with you. What happened?”

“I remembered.” Sirius said hollowly.

“Remember what?”

But Sirius didn’t answer. Remus waited, but the other man just stood up and walked away. Remus sat back down for a moment and put his head in his hands. How did he get here? This morning he felt sure. Now he felt… well he didn’t know what he felt.

He hung back to give Sirius a head start so there would be no chance of them running into each other. Then Remus stood up and walked back to the hotel. Alone.

TODAY…

“Fucking fuck fuckeroo I’ve fucking burned my freaking bread. Fuck!” Remus said as he pulled the slightly overdone loaf from the oven.

“Hey Remus, want to try again, but like… viewer friendly this time?” Marlene called.

Remus flipped her off but then gave her a thumbs up and went again.

“Oh no! I’ve burned the bread!” He cried and Marlene rolled her eyes.

“Remus Lupin I’m going to have you fired.”

“Love you too!” He said with a wink before turning back to figure out what the hell he was going to try to do.

“You’re awful.” Lily said to him as she took her own loaves out of the oven.

Remus shot her a wink too. “I know.”

In the end, Remus cut off all the crusts of his bread, knowing that it might slightly impede the structural integrity but at the same time… It was a pudding. They barely have any structure in the first place.

He whipped up his cream and added in some saffron, nutmeg and sugar then began making layers upon layers of bread and cream. He left out any raisins both because he hated them and he knew Dumbledore had a particular aversion to them and well he was willing to do anything to win a little bit of favour. He covered it all with another thick layer of cream, sprinkling the top with extra nutmeg and cinnamon.

He popped it into the oven and set his timer before asking Lily to keep an eye on his station for a moment just in case while he nipped off to the loo.

As soon as he stepped out of the tent they filmed in, he was hit with a wave of cool air and he breathed in gratefully - having several ovens in one space always led to quite a hot temperature in the tent. He splashed some water on his face in the bathroom and rolled back his shoulders. He didn’t know why he felt so… off. Okay he did, and that reason was the notorious Sirius Black, but Remus had decided from the very first day that he wouldn’t let anything get in the way of his baking. And here he was doing exactly that. He squared his shoulders and met his own eyes in the mirror.

“Get a grip.” He told himself and went back to the tent.

Apparently his little pep talk had absolutely no effect, because after burning his bread, he topped off the baking experience by burning the pudding too. It was beginning to look like another stellar baking week for Remus.

“It’s a bit dark.” McGonagall commented as she dolled out a serving for both herself and Dumbledore.

‘Yeah no shit’ Remus wanted to say. Instead he just nodded his head.

“Even with the cream, the bread is a little dry.” Dumbledore said after taking a bite. Remus clenched his jaw, frustrated with himself. “And it’s a little bitter from being in the oven a nit too long. Overall, not your best work Mr Lupin.”

Remus sat down once more and found himself taking a shaky breath. That was definitely not how he wanted to start this week. He comforted himself by saying that he’d do much better in the other challenges. Nearly everybody else did quite well. The only person worse than Remus was Peter who had somehow, by laws unknown to Remus and possibly to science had managed to have quite a liquid consistency.

Remus went to lunch a little put-out but chatting with everyone never failed to cheer him up almost instantly.

“They could have drank it with a straw!” Peter moaned, dropping his forehead onto the table. “I don’t even know how! The cream was whipped so well before it all went in the oven!”

“Hard luck mate.” James said, patting Peter on the shoulder as he slid into a seat next to Lily. Remus didn’t miss the way they leaned slightly towards each other. He wondered if their story would end better than his and Sirius’. Even Kingsley had joined them, making Sirius’ absence more stark.

“What’s Twitter up to this week?” Tonks asked, peering over Remus’ shoulder as he pulled the page up.

“Um, let’s see,” Remus typed in the bake off tag and watched as all the posts rolled up. “They’re still weak for your hair Tonks,” He said and Tonks flicked her hair dramatically in response. “Oh my god there’s a twitter war.”

“Wait what?” Tonks asked, leaning in closer as everyone else gathered around.

“From the picture of you and me this morning. There’s people shipping you and me versus people shipping me and Sirius.”

“Oh my god, that is comedy gold.” Peter said, oblivious. Remus didn’t know what Sirius had told James, but he suspected SOMETHING from the careful way James controlled his face.

“I’m just gonna see where Sirius is.” James said as he stood up. “I don’t know what’s taking him so long.”

The pair didn’t return for lunch, the next everyone saw of them was when shooting recommenced. Remus had given himself a mental pep talk as he walked back to his station, consisting purely of ‘Come on Lupin, don’t fuck this up, you can do it’.

“You ready?” Lily queried as the microphones were put into position.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, you?”

“About the same I’d say.”

“Okay and we’re recording in three, two and one.” Marlene said, pointing her finger towards James and Sirius to indicate that they were rolling.

“Our bakers just faced their signature challenge and while they might not have liked it, I must say, it was my bread and butter!” James opened and Remus covered his mouth with his hand because he refused to have the entire nation know he was even mildly amused by that terrible pun, but Remus really was a sucker for them.

Sirius rolled his eyes playfully. “Oh my god Jamie, that’s bad even for you.”

“I thought that was excellent, thank you very much.”

“I’m choosing to ignore you now.” Sirius bantered. “For our technical challenge, our judges would like you to make six individual sticky toffee puddings, judges, have you got anything to say?”

“Be mindful of your vanilla.” Dumbledore warned and Remus bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at the ‘advice’. It was always so vague, they might not bother saying anything at all.

“Alright judges, out you go,” James said ushering the pair out the door.. Sirius faced the bakers and grinned.

“On your marks,”

“Get set,”

“Bake!”

Remus turned around to Lily. “Be mindful of your vanilla.” He said in a very serious turn. Lily threw the cloth covering her ingredients at him. All was well.

James swung by Remus’ station a little while later. “How’s it going?”

Remus was just finishing cutting out little circles of parchment paper to line the bottom of the little pots he would bake the puddings in. He had already liberally greased the edges with butter and he just needed to pop the parchment circles in.

“Alright, I haven’t actually done any baking yet.” Remus said laughing. James grabbed the leftover scrap of paper and attempted to make some kind of crown out of it.

“Here ye, here ye!” Remus joked, noticing half the cameras in the room training on them.

“I think I should be king of the bake off Remus, what do you think?”

Remus nodded along solemnly/ “Oh yes of course James, your baking skills are incredible.”

“I can bake!” James protested.

“Sure, sure,” Remus teased, beginning to measure ingredients. “But if you’re the king of bake off, who will make all the terrible puns.”

James covered his heart with his hand. “You wound me Remus, truly.”

Remus chucked a date at his head, but James just opened his mouth and caught it.”

Remus burst out laughing. “Okay that was good, you can be the king of bake off now.”

“Why thank you.” James said before heading off to chat to Lily next, still wearing his paper crown.

Remus turned back to his baking and began mixing ingredients together. He was careful to split the vanilla pod and scrape the seeds into the mix. In the end he was pretty happy with his batter, and poured it carefully into his pots, being careful not to pass the three quarter mark as they would rise in the oven and he didn’t want to have them spill over the edge.

He popped them in the oven and began to start work on the toffee, measuring ingredients as he let the pot heat up. He tossed in the butter and sugar and stirred a little before making a cup of tea. He came back to his toffee-to-be a few minutes later to see he had left it unattended too long and it had all crystallised.

“Fuck!” He said, emptying the contents onto a plate and quickly starting again.

“Oof, they crystallised?” Lily asked, on her tiptoes peering over at Remus’ work.

“Yup. I have just enough time to go again though.”

This time, the devil himself wouldn’t be able to lure Remus away from his bot.

‘A watched pot never boils,’ He thought. “Yeah well a watched pot never burns either.” He muttered, aware that he would probably come across as mildly insane but fuck it.

“Are you talking to yourself?” A lovely lilting voice asked and Remus froze for a moment before continuing to stir.

“Yes.”

“Why?” Sirius asked

“Because I’m an excellent conversationalist.”

Remus knew Sirius would be smiling even if he couldn’t see him. He slowly added the cream into his pot, folding it all in nicely.

“Well I can’t refute that statement.” Sirius agreed and Remus almost wanted to tell him to fuck off because even now Sirius was so lovely and Remus wanted to turn and see his smile, except he knew it wouldn’t be the same. It would be purely for the camera and there would be no little sly glances or secret winks and that gorgeous sparkle in his eye would be gone.

Or was it ever even there in the first place?

Remus took the pot off the heat and let it sit for a moment as he took the puddings out of the oven. He set them all on a cooling rack and turned to start taking them out of the pots when he spotted six identical little parchment paper circles sitting on the counter.

“Oh fuck.” He whispered. He never actually put them in the pots. “Oh Christ. Oh for fucks sake.” He said running his fingers through his hair.

“What’s wrong?” Lily asked, coming over to him and resting her hand on his shoulder.

“I never put the parchment paper in, they’re going to stick to the pot and be ruined.”

“You greased it though didn’t you? That’ll help a lot, there’s still hope yet.” She leaned in close again and whispered, “And if they go to hell you can bump into Peter when we’re putting them on the table and pretend he knocked them over again.”

Remus chuckled and gave her a quick hug. “Thank you, now go away because we don’t need yours ruined too.”

“They’re not ruined!” Lily yelled back at him and Remus smiled as he dug through his cutlery drawer to find the thinnest knife that he could. Biting his lip in concentration he carefully ran the knife along the inside of the pot to loosen the sides, then he flipped it over quickly and gently eased the pudding out. There was a little bit of the tip missing but - it could easily be covered with the toffee so all in all, Remus was actually quite happy.

“One down, five to go!” He called to Lilly but also for the benighted of Marlene who was hovering nearby, cameras trained on what Remus was doing.

The second one came out quite well two and Remus was beginning to feel a spark of hope when the third one completely split in half - the top still in the pot.

“Oh shittttttt.” Remus sang to himself, trying not to worry too much. He just kept going, he could assemble that one later. The following three had the exact same result. Marlene was hovering around him, capturing the tension. Remus looked up and stared right into the lens as if he were on The Office and said “I jinxed myself.”

He managed to coax the top halves out of their containers and gently put them back together again. He drizzled a liberal amount of toffee over the tops before having a moment of inspiration. He grabbed the abandoned crystallised toffee and used it to decorate the tops of the puddings before transferring them all to the rectangular plate he’d be presenting them on, adding a little bit of toffee to the plate to help regain any visual aestheticism.

“Alright bakers!” Sirius called, “Your time is up. Please walk your cakes up to the table at the front of the tent.”

Lily walked up next to Remus and mimed ‘accidentally’ bumping into Peter and Remus snorted as he set his plate down behind his picture.

“You’re insane,” He whispered to her as they sat down on their stools.

“You love me though.” She quipped back and Remus grinned at her before the judges came out.

“Hello again bakers!” Dumbledore greeted. They chorused back a hello and then the judges set to work. The judges actually cringed when they bit into Peter’s dish and on the other side of Remus, Peter was quivering a little.

“Our tip to be mindful with the vanilla went unnoticed with this one it would seem.” McGonagall commented and Remus had to stop himself from looking at Peter to figure out what the hell he did.

“It would appear this person included their vanilla pod.” Dumbledore said, trying to hide his cringe. “For future reference, it’s the seeds inside the pod you eat, not the outside layer.”

Remus knew Peter’s face was bright red without even looking at him, but he didn’t glance to the side for fear of giving away who had actually made the cakes.

Remus’ were up next, McGonagall looking at them cynically. “The presentation is quite lacking I must admit.”

“Yes, they’re a bit messy,” Dumbledore agreed as he cut into one. They each took a bite, nodding solemnly for a moment. “They certainly taste good though.”

McGonagall nodded in agreement and just like that they had moved on to the next person’s work. Remus let out a deep sigh. It wasn’t how he had wanted it to go but… at least they had tasted good. He was still annoyed at himself for forgetting the parchment paper but he had to let it go now.

The judges were quick to decide this week. With only five contestants left and a tangible need to make it to the semi finals next week, there was a buzz in the air, at least it felt that way to Remus.

Or, it did feel that way until he came second last in the technical and suddenly he was seriously beginning to fear that this time next week, he’d be at home.

Peter came last. Tonks won; Kingsley and Lily filling in the middle spots.

Remus headed back to the hotel, talking quietly to Lily but really just planning his strategy for tomorrow. Considering his recipe. Mentally changing the flavours, then switching them back. The order he would make everything. If he should just head straight to the practice tent and make it one more time.

Lily wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned her head against him. Remus used to always look at people walking like this and think it must be so incredibly awkward, but this felt natural.

“It’s better to rest now then practice some more. You’re ready.” She said as if she could read his mind. Maybe after five weeks of being together every day, she could.

He smiled and placed a kiss to the top of her head, loving their friendship. “Thanks Lils.”

She peered up at him, those eyes vibrantly green, hidden slightly under her eyelashes. “Wanna make hot chocolate?”

Remus grinned as he put his arm over her shoulders and gave her a grateful squeeze. “That sounds like heaven.”

The next day began with the sunlight filtering slowly through the open windows as Remus got dressed. It was late enough in the year now that he woke up in darkness, but he always liked getting to watch the sun rise so it didn’t bother him. The air was crisp outside when he walked down with Lily and it felt like a new beginning.

“Let’s do this.” Lily said, holding out her fist as they entered the tent and Remus looked at her in mild amusement, but bumped his knuckles against hers lightly.

They set up their stations quietly, not having much to do, Remus just liked it organised slightly differently to the way the cleaning crew left it. Everyone seeped in quietly, the tension from yesterday lingering.

Marlene announced their start and suddenly they were off, James and Sirius bantering away with a familiar chemistry rarely found between two presenters.

“Welcome back for the showstopper challenge!” James greeted, Sirius grinning at his side. “Today our judges have asked you to reimagine a dish as a trifle.”

Remus remembered the first time he had heard that and thought it was a little weird, but he liked it. Back then he had planned to have a ‘death by chocolate’ theme but he changed his recipe last week. Lily was making a carrot cake creation that looked amazing. Tonks was wowing with a baked Alaska inspired dish. Peter had embraced chocolate chip cookies and they were featuring heavily in his. Kingsley was doing something with a lot of apples but Remus didn’t know many of the specifics. Kingsley wasn’t secretive, but he wasn’t majorly talkative either.

“You know Sirius, I once fought with a man over his multi layered cake,” James was saying vibrantly.

“Is that so?”

“Indeed. However I soon learned he was not to be trifled with.”

The light went out of Sirius’ eyes. “You’re fired.” He said to James in a deadpan voice and the entire tent burst into giggles.

Sirius sighed and turned to everyone. “On your marks, get set, bake!”

“Hey! We’re supposed to say that together!”

“Yeah well I fired you so it’s mine now.”

Remus couldn’t stop himself from chuckling as he set to work. Was he unsure of what was happening between himself and Sirius? Yes. Did he still have feelings for the man? Undoubtedly.

He immediately set to work making the meringues, those were gonna be hard to get done in time - they took two hours in the oven and then they had to cool down completely before Remus could do anything with them. He whipped the egg whites and sugar on high speed, until there were ‘stiff peaks’, the mixture was lovely and shiny and Remus felt like he was spooning marshmallow into his piping bag.

He made three circles of meringue, all the same size as his trifle dish along with a few little meringue kisses to decorate the top. He popped the trays into the preheated oven and set to work preparing everything else. He turned around to grab a tea towel and his elbow hit a glass bowl on the counter and it fell to the ground, shattering and leaving sparkling shards all over Remus’ station.

“Crap okay, can I get a brush over here please?”

A crew member helped him sweep it up as quickly as possible so he could get back to work. James sidled up to his counter as he started making a lemon curd, a suspicious grin on his face.

“I see you’re having a smashing time.”

Remus looked up from adding the grated lemon rind. “I thought you were fired.”

James just laughed and ruffled Remus’ hair in a way that if anyone else had done it, it would have annoyed Remus, but it was okay from James.

“I’ll let you get back to work.” And then he was off and Remus could once again focus. He looked down into his pot and nearly started to cry. It had curdled.

He stepped away for a moment, covering his face with his hands as he took a deep breath. It would be okay, he had time to make more. It just seemed like ever since Sirius had walked away a week ago, nothing had gone quite right.

On Monday, the restaurant made a mistake and gave Remus normal pasta, resulting in him being very sick for a while. On Tuesday, a pair of shoes he had long since worn in gave him blisters. Wednesday had him spilling tea all over his special edition book. Thursday he ripped a hole in his favourite cardigan and Friday Sirius walked into a room, saw Remus and immediately left. Saturday had been the signature and technical challenge and now he was here.

He jolted when a hand gingerly reached out and touched his shoulder. Light as a feather at first, barely the brush of fingertips but then the palm of the hand pressed reassuringly into Remus’ skin.

“Re?” Sirius asked. Remus heart soared and shattered at the same time. How was that even possible?

“I’m fine it’s just a lot today I think.”

“Do you want to step outside for a few?”

Remus shook his head as he turned to face Sirius. “No it’s okay, thanks. I don’t have enough time.”

Sirius’ eyes were conflicted for a moment but the next thing Remus knew, he was being pulled down into a tight hug.

“Sorry,” Sirius mumbled, “I should have asked first, it’s just you looked so upset and-”

“It’s okay.” Remus whispered, his mouth by Sirius’ ear.

He pulled away reluctantly, wanting to stay in the comfort of Sirius’ arms longer but very aware of all the cameras trained on them.

“Thanks,” He mumbled to Sirius, his face flushed. “I should get back to it.”

Sirius nodded and Remus went back to work, the presenter heading off to chat to someone else. Taking another breath, Remus began grating another lemon. It was time to start again.

Assembling the trifle was possibly Remus’ favourite showstopper to put together so far, just because of how simple it was. He placed a meringue disk at the bottom, followed by lemon curd, then repeated it twice, until his top layer was a bright yellow substance. He grinned looking inside the glass dish - he was really glad he chose to pipe the curd in, it made the lines much cleaner.

He placed the meringue kisses on top, then grated chocolate over everything and he finished just as James called time.

Remus watched the judges fall in love with Tonks’ amazing baked Alaska and beamed at the praise for his friend. Lily did very well too. Kingsley had a few problems but overall he seemed quite happy with his baking. Peter’s was only marginally better. And then it was Remus.

He walked up to the table at the front of the room, suddenly very aware of Sirius standing with James to the side of the judges.

“Remind us of what this is inspired by Mr Lupin?” Dumbledore asked as he and McGonagall took in the trifle.

“Lemon meringue.” Remus said, his chest tight.

Sirius’ looked up sharply, meeting his eyes. Remus nodded minutely.

They each took a helpful and took a moment considering the flavours.

“I’m impressed, Mr Lupin.” Dumbledore said. “I was worried the curd would be too wet and dissolve the meringue.”

McGonagall nodded. “Were you not worried that this might be a little simple for a showstopper?”

Remus shook his head. “A classic is a classic for a reason.”

McGonagall graced him with a very rare smile and for the first time this week, Remus felt like he had done something right.

They all sat on the stools a little while later, waiting and waiting and waiting while the judges took the longest time to decide yet this series. Remus knew it was down to Peter and himself. One of them was going home today. Remus just didn’t know who.

Peter had done a little worse than Remus yesterday, but had recovered a lot today. Remus knew he himself had also gained some ground, he just didn’t know if it was enough. He hoped it was. He feared it wasn’t.

James and Sirius emerged first, the judges next, none of their faces giving anything away.

“Today I have the pleasure of announcing star baker.” James said smiling, “For the second week in a row… Tonks!”

Remus grinned and kissed Tonks on the cheek as she was sitting right next to him. Both because he was proud of her but also to mess with Twitter a little bit.

“Sadly, I have the awful job of announcing who’s going home today.” Sirius said, nothing about him giving anything away. Remus’ heart pounded, he could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips. “This person has been a pleasure to work with and we’ll all be very sad to see them leave.”

Remus found breathing a little difficult. Would Sirius just hurry up and say it?

“Leaving us today will be… Peter.”

Down the line a little, Peter’s shoulders slumped and while Remus was disappointed for him, all he could feel was the adrenaline surge now that all the tension had melted away from his body. They all lingered in the tent for a while, congratulating Tonks and giving Peter their commiserations.

McGonagall came up to Remus at one point and spoke to him quietly. “Not your best week Mr Lupin.”

Remus shook his head. “No.”

McGonagall met his eyes. “You have amazing potential. I’ve seen you do great things, I hope I get to see them again.” She said before slinking back into the crowd. Remus blinked. It was possibly the most reassuring thing he had ever heard about his baking. He wanted to write her words down so he could keep them forever.

He was staying a little while longer.

Remus went straight to his room when he got back to the hotel, skipping the usual gathering they had after finishing filming that week as he was just exhausted after his day. He threw his clothes over the back of a chair in his room to be put away tomorrow and threw on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, a thick pair of socks on his feet. He turned off the over head light, flicking on his lamp instead and just about to crawl into bed with his book when he heard the faintest knock on his door.

He frowned, a little wondering who it could be. Lily? No, she would be downstairs talking to James. Not Tonks, her knock was loud and vibrant. Peter was packing-

Remus opened the door and there stood Sirius, who’d also changed into cosier clothes, looking almost lost in the depths of his massive jumper. For the first time since Remus had known him, Sirius looked unsure.

“Can I come in?” He asked softly. Remus bit his lip for a moment before nodding and stepping inside.

Sirius gazed around his room for a moment, snorting at the clothes thrown haphazardly over the chair.

“You didn’t strike me as messy.” He mused.

Remus blushed. “I’m not, I'm just tired.”

Sirius turned around. “I can go?”

“No it’s alright.” Remus had a feeling that if Sirius didn’t say why he came here now, it would be forever forgotten.

Sirius looked at the ground, scuffing his socked toes on the carpet. “Have you ever read about people I date in the tabloids?”

Remus frowned and quickly ran what information about Sirius he knew through his mind. “No? At least, I don’t think so.”

Sirius smiled ruefully. “That’s because I haven’t dated anyone in a long time. Ever really.”

Remus felt his lips part slightly. “Ever?”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I mean a little in school but I don’t know if it really counted.” He kept looking at the floor. “I mean, I have flings or whatever but I don’t date. At first I was too preoccupied with building a life away from my family. Then I was so busy, focusing on my career. Then,” His voice grew soft like he was a little embarrassed, “It had been so long I was afraid. I forget sometimes, when I’m with you. But then that day, I remembered.”

Remus didn’t have to ask what day. I remembered. Sirius had said it then too.

And it was so dumb of me but I was afraid of having you.” Sirius finally looked up at Remus. Grey met amber and all was right. “But then today I worried for a moment that I was going to lose you.”

Remus laughed a little wetly. “You make that sound like I nearly died or something.”

“Shut up I’m trying to be romantic!” Sirius protested, but his cheeks were flushed.

“Sorry.” Remus said, but he was smiling faintly. He reached out and brushed Sirius’ fingers with his and Sirius caught his hand and held it.

“But I realised I’m afraid of being with you, but I guess I’m going to have to get used to it, because I’m terrified of being without you.”

Remus swallowed, wetting his lips. “What… Are you.. Wait?”

Sirius nodded. “Yeah.”

A little smile danced on Remus’ lips as he took a step closer and lowered his face down so he could nudge Sirius’ nose with his own. “I guess we can be a little scared together then.”

Sirius’ eyes lit up and Remus was about to kiss him but before he could move, Sirius had surged up and pressed his lips to Remus’.

Remus melted into it, wrapping one arm around Sirius’ waist, the other removing the hair tie from Sirius’ bun to be tossed somewhere that would probably never be found so he could finally tangle his fingers in the inky black strands like he had dreamed about doing so many times.

Sirius kisses were just like his personality. Confident, purposeful, Remus thought as Sirius nipped his bottom lip and Remus opened his mouth for him. Strong. At some point, Remus backed into the bed, his knees giving out so he sat on the edge while Sirius just straddled him, never even breaking away. The pace was new and thrilling to Remus. A sweet caress of the tongue could lead quickly to a desperate clash of teeth and back again in just a moment.

“You made lemon meringue.” Sirius murmured against hips lips. Remus grinned and nodded.

“It’s your favourite.”

Sirius pulled away first, his chest heaving and his lips red and swollen, shining from Remus; own saliva. That thought alone had Remus chasing his lips for another taste. Sirius smirked but kissed him sweetly for a minute before pulling away and resting his forehead on Remus’ shoulder. Remus could just see those eyes he loved so much peeking up at him from under his ridiculously long eyelashes.

“So you and me?” Sirius asked. “We’re dating? I didn’t make that up, right?”

Remus beamed and shook his head. “You didn’t make it up.”

“Is it too early to ask to be exclusive? I really have no idea how this works.” Sirius laughed, pressing his face into Remus’ chest. Remus bent so he could nip the curve of his ear gently.

“No,” He murmured, “Well I don’t know how it goes that well either. But it doesn’t feel too early, does it?”

Sirius shook his head before lifting it and coming back to Remus’ level again. “You’re mine.” He breathed, eyes sparkling. He pulled Remus’ bottom lip between his teeth and sucked on it gently. “I must be the luckiest person on the planet.”

Remus kissed him softly, pulling him against his chest. “I think that title is reserved for me.”

Sirius hit his shoulder playfully. “Sap.”

“Hey! You started it!”

Sirius giggled and kissed him again, tugging on Remus’ hair a little before pulling away.

“I want you.” He whispered, “But I’m tired as hell. Wanna, I don’t know, cuddle and shit?”

Remus smirked, patting Sirius’ thigh lightly so they could climb under the covers.

“Yeah,” He agreed as he pulled Sirius against his chest once more, tangling their legs together. “Let’s cuddle and shit.”

They fell asleep like that, a jumble of limbs tucked under the warm covers, fitting together like they had been made for each other. Remus had one of the best night’s sleep of his life, even missing the sun rising in the morning.

(But somehow, he didn’t mind).

#let them eat cake #let them eat cake chapter 5 #wolfstar #wolfstar bake off au #bake off #tgbbo #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Evans #James Potter #tonks #nymphadora tonks

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castielscarma · 3 years ago

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First line

@envydeanwrites Thank you for the tag love <3 Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors! (All Destiel) 1. Dean exhales softly as the sack is removed from his head. The light emanating from the naked lightbulb is harsh and he blinks several times as his eyes adjust. Something hard is invading his mouth, making it impossible to speak. Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me? 2. You thought if you handed over your body he’d do something interesting. But it was the same old. Something interesting

3. The path to love may have been anything but straight but now that Dean finally has Castiel he's not letting him go. They do mundane things together, like Castiel making him coffee in the mornings, going through lore books in the library, or playing Scrabble.Dean has read somewhere that love is transformative, divine, or some bullshit like that, and he's always rolled his eyes at that. Grace

4. Dean has been a hunter too fucking long to ignore his instincts. And even though the monster hunting is way less intense these days, he still listens to his gut. And his gut is telling him something is up. Mother Superior 5. Dean remembered the last time, and while he'd been proud of his achievement, the timing really hadn't been great. He'd not been in the right headspace – how could he – with Chuck the cosmic dickbag breathing down their necks but this time was different.He glanced at Cas. Everything was different. Fourth Birthday

6, Castiel had been in many less than desirable situations, some of them could best be described as embarrassing, especially for a warrior of the Lord but this had to take the prize. Although much had happened since Castiel yanked the righteous man out of Hell – meeting Dean Winchester had altered the trajectory of his life completely – this was a first. Castiel was knee-deep into shit. Soil 7. Dean finds the box three weeks after moving in. He hasn't been avoiding the attic, it's just that he didn't have any reason to be up there after storing away the last two boxes that contained his art supplies. A box is a box is unorthodox 8. I love you. Dean presses rewind. I love you. Six months 9. Not all angels were in the fiery depths of Hell trying to save the Righteous Man. Some had to stay back on Earth and keep their eyes on the humans. Salathiel was one of those, living a quiet suburban life in a small town in Mississippi. The Infinite Eyes Perceive 10. The windmill stands tall Meadow (a haiku) 11. Dean knows it's the right spot as soon as he sees it. The windmill is old, had stood there for so long that nature has reclaimed it. Long vines make their way upwards, climbing as if trying to reach the stars. The Meadow 12. There's something about the air, Dean thinks. He inhales deeply and can almost taste it; the salt settles on his lips and invites him to take another breath, encouraging him to try and quench something that seems insatiable. Lull 13. Dean opens the church doors slowly, not wanting to disturb anyone that might still be praying. Outside, night shrouds the city but the many lit candles inside the church cast a warm and welcoming glow, trying hard to banish the darkness. Dean knows from experience though that darkness is usually found inside. Kenosis 14. Dean crosses his arms. “I don't know.” Castiel looks at Dean, a smile playing on his lips and that could've been innocent but Dean doesn't miss the glint in his eyes. Prompts: Adventure 15. The first time it happens, Dean isn't even aware that it is happening. It's not his fault that Cas wears his shirt sleeves rolled up; it's a fucking invitation for Dean to trail his fingers up Cas' strong arms. On the way down, he uses his nails and rakes marks on his skin; red welts that'll vanish as soon as they appear but the sounds Cas make are ones of pure lust. The Destiel Disasters: Interruptions or when Sam sees too much 16. It's quiet. Dean eases into the black leather armchair that's backed up in one corner of the library. He takes a pull on his beer and puts it down on the small table next to him. The Bunker 17. “Do you want me?” Cas' voice is a growl but still, he's restraining himself. He touches Dean, always, but Dean wants more. He'd laugh at Cas' question if he wasn't busy being destroyed with want. Veneration 18. Cas entered the kitchen on heavy legs. He was still not used to how much sleep he needed but he couldn't deny that sleeping had its charm. Waking up next to Dean, tightening his hold around him and nuzzling close to his neck, inhaling that scent that was all him, that alone was worth all the hours of sleep. Their Love Was Real 19. Dean took Cas' hand and grinned before kissing his knuckles. “It's Sunday. You know what that means?” Johnson 20. Dean has been on edge all day. Scratch that, he'd been on edge for days. First, they'd been all the way to Asheville to dust not one, not two, but three damn vampire nests. The Lesson I notice I start a lot of fics with Dean lol, besides that I write long sentences but try and wary the length I think. My fav opening lines are from Kenosis I think, it really sets the mood for the entire fic. I’m tagging just a bunch of people I <3 Feel free to join. @deans-jiggly-pudding @raidens-realm @anastiel @helianthus21 @kingdumbass @ltleflrt @nickelkeep @lotrspnfangirl @wanderingcas @thegertie

#castielscarma writes #destiel #destiel ficlet

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winterisakillerwrites · 4 years ago

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Six Sentence Sunday

From my upcoming Tom/OFC fic Sweet Caroline:

Tom couldn’t say what had made him walk into the brightly lit small shop, but as soon as he walked past the display of handmade rings he’d known. It wasn’t an overly large stone nor an elaborate setting but once he’d seen it, Tom knew how perfectly at home it would look on Caroline’s left hand. So he’d bought it without a second thought and carried it with him ever since, waiting for the perfect time to ask. And now that time was here and a wash of nerves flooded through him. Over pudding, he assured himself. He would ask her over pudding; a cheesecake he’d covered with berries, something Tom knew she loved.

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston RPF #Tom Hiddleston x OFC #Tom Hiddleston x OC #Tom Hiddleston x Original Female Character #Tom Hiddleston x Original Character #Tom & Caroline #six sentence sunday

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megofnuts · 5 years ago

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Six Sentence Sunday 24.11.2019

Not that SSS, tecnically, more like a peek into a story that is evolving from this post and @savvyblunders idea of Mycroft in a Hallmark movie. That’s how it begins...

It’s the most wonderful time of the year, when the Сity of London, normally reserved and aloof gentleman, digs into the farthest corner of his attic, shakes the dust off the party costume and has a wardrobe change for the scene of feast.

“December 24th is no different from any other workday”, Mycroft chants this mantra on and on in vain attempt to restore some equilibrium of mind after the most tedious morning ride through the heavy traffic of busy streets, strapped with garlands and decorations that turned familiar city scenery into a screencap of Sugarplum fairy’s hangover hallucination.

His dimly lit and absolutely undecorated office managed by Anthea’s usual crisp professional self in androgyny outfit of appropriate “battleship grey” color is an island of relief in a turbulent ocean of mirth. Nevertheless, as the evening approaches Mycroft is tired, overworked and this strange dizziness that keeps bothering him for the whole day doesn’t improve the matter in the least.

When he finally relocates from calm (gloomy) office to even more calm (more gloomy) flat, that for some unfathomable reason looks even more lonely today, he prepares a tumbler of finest scotch with a slice of pudding -- ridiculous match, but he allows himself this one indulgence to honor the date and falls asleep too early, not managing to finish even the first page of a started book.

“Have you ever wondered what is wrong with us, brother dear?” – Quiet words are buzzing in his head. “What if our life was like these celluloid dreams, painted with Technicolor palette, where all the days are merry and bright and people are simply kind to each other…” He sighs with sudden longing. “No, sentiment, totally unproductive, totally impossible”, is the last thought before he dozes off...

tagging @savvyblunders @lavenderandvanilla @starsandstitches @egmon73 @souper-doup @vulpesmellifera till the next Sunday now, I guess :D

#mystrade #mystrade idea #mystrade fic wip #christmas mystrade #six sentence sunday

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queenofbaws · 2 years ago

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“wherever you want to go, i promise i’ll be with you every step of the way.” climbing chrash but outlast au if you can manage it 💖

definitely more than six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

When the riot had begun, there had been chaos.

Perfect.

Absolute.

As though a switch had been flipped in some executive office, the hospital had been turned on its head; when finally the dust settled like so much glitter in a snowglobe, shining in the middle of the wreckage wasn’t Occam’s razor but Murphy’s. What could go wrong had gone wrong.

Then, things had really gotten bad.

No one had ever let them in on what Murkoff had been doing to the rest of its subjects – because that’s what they were, no matter how many times they referred to them as ‘patients,’ no matter how carefully they tailored their clothes to make them look like prisoners – and now they didn’t need to. The proof was in the pudding, so to speak, only the pudding in question was of a meatier sort, slurried offal and skin spattered across walls or left on the ground in shapes that suggested the pile had once been a person. Murkoff had been making monsters, end of sentence, only they hadn’t anticipated losing control of their leashes.

The three of them had a little more experience with monsters than most gave them credit for. So there wasn’t any shock when things went sideways. If anything, there was a sense of something like relief that came with knowing shit had hit the proverbial fan. They’d survived something like this before, perhaps by the skin of their teeth; thing was, their teeth had a little more skin to lose now. The doctors had seen to that.

When the lights had gone out, Ashley had braced for the wave of fear to wash over her, the familiar terror that had risen up to greet her in the night since she was a child…but it never came. Instead, where that fear had once been, now there was only Chris’s cool nonchalance and Josh’s silent acceptance, buoying her in a way no nightlight or hall light ever had before. And that was good, because they needed her calm.

They needed her memory.

“Zombie ants,” Chris said, breaking the prolonged silence between them. “That’s what they’re like. You know, the ones that get the parasites? They climb to the highest point they can find, then let themselves be eaten by birds.”

“Take a pretty big bird to eat those lugs,” Josh murmured, the slow but sinister rot the Engine had started in each of them pulling his mouth (and therefore his words) into an unfamiliar shape. “Hate to see it.”

“Maybe we already have.” She didn’t like the sound of their voices down there in the tunnel, didn’t like the prickly feeling it set across her arms and the back of her neck. Once, all the way back in middle school, they’d snuck into the school after hours to get an assignment out of Chris’s locker. The whole place had been dark and empty and silent, and all at once so many of Josh’s dumb horror movies made sense – there was something terrifying about loud places going quiet, of crowded places going barren. It wasn’t right.

These hallways should’ve been full, too. Full of guards, of doctors, of the choked-off screams of people held with chemical restraints. But now there was only the three of them. The only sounds were the distant shouts of Murkoff’s mistakes far above them, zombie ants taking the time to tear through the doctors like crepe paper before finding a leaf to perch on and wait. That’s what everyone had done when the locks had clicked open: gone out, gone up.

Which was why they were going down.

She was the first to reach the stairwell, and so she stopped, turning her back to the yawning darkness to face them instead. “So here’s the thing,” Ashley said, pausing just long enough to confirm what she already knew, the buzz in her blood combing through the guys’ brains the same way theirs were moving through hers. “You’re not going to like where we have to go next.”

They shared a look, Chris and Josh, and even without the swarm behind her eyes, she knew what they were saying without speaking: That was something they’d usually say to her, and oh how the tables had turned.

“Not too worried, actually,” Josh said coolly, glancing down the darkened corridor from whence they’d come. “Pretty sure the worst of the worst’s playing out way up yonder. You know me, Ash…I’ve got no problem hunkering down in a dark, abandoned pit and waiting for the cavalry to arrive.”

“Yeah,” Chris piped in, the calm ebb of his voice at odds with the apprehension she felt blooming under his skin. “You’re the one who learned the map, Ash, you know we trust you to lead the way! I mean…wherever we gotta go, you know we’ll be with you every step of the way. No matter what.”

Her fear of the dark had shrunk to an unimportant thing, less than an itch at the back of her head, but even so the chasm of darkness behind her felt palpable as she looked between the two of them. It felt like its own sort of monster with its own sort of mouth, waiting for them to walk into it so it could chew, swallow, digest them piece by piece.

But it was the only way.

“No matter what?” she asked.

“No matter what,” they answered in unison.

“All right,” she sighed, and turned on her heel, taking the stairs slowly to keep from slipping on the blood. “Because the way down is through the basement. And I’m pretty sure we’re not the only people who thought to head that way.”

Behind her, Chris and Josh’s thoughts came zinging into her skull with all the force of buckshot. The man downstairs, one of them thought, a shapeless question; THE THING BELOW, the other realized, stomach sinking into Ashley’s feet.

“I’d like to rescind my earlier statement about following you anywhere,” is what Chris said aloud, though he was already following her down into the darkness.

“You guys take me to all the nicest places,” Josh drawled a moment later, his footsteps joining theirs.

From far above them, the screams continued. From far below them, a radio played.

There were no lesser evils in Mount Massive.

#love-fireflysong #six sentence weekend #queenie writes supermassive #queenie writes outlast #oh i would do anything for love...yes i would do anything for love......but i wont do that. nonononononononono i wont do THAT

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dumbledearme · 6 years ago

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~ read The Bridgerton Eight here ~~

The Modern Bridgertons:

Violet Bridgerton (1965—)

married her high school sweetheart at 18;

loves blackberry pie;

is a fancy ass woman but always acts with humility;

is known and respected by everyone in Great Hamptons;

always remembers everybody’s names;

is the queen of charity events;

has an intense flare for the dramatic;

lighted a candle for her husband everyday he was at war;

was strong for her children when he died and never cried in front of them;

cried a lot, alone, at night, in her room;

always supports her children in all their endeavors;

is obsessed with marrying all of them because she doesn’t want them to waste the little time they might have with their loved ones;

Edmund Bridgerton (1965—2009)

his favorite pie is blackberry pie because that’s what Violet likes;

his grandfather turned BCorp into a corporate company;

under his charge, BCorp became a “green company”;

was an eleven as a dad;

whenever his children were upset, he’d take his hands and put them on both sides of their head and they would just breathe together;

he was called to war world II when he was 34;

he was discharged with honor two years later for saving a fellow soldier;

he was stung by bees and died of anaphylactic shock;

Anthony Bridgerton (1991—)

1,84 cm/ 6′0″;

all he ever wanted was to be half the man his dad was;

he had to step up as the man of the family at just 18 years old;

he has been running BCorp and supporting his family ever since;

doesn’t have time for a good time;

probably has forgotten what that is;

still, he’s been known to dally...

has a reputation as a player;

is afraid of intimacy;

work, work, work, work;

worries and protects every single one of his siblings because that’s what Dad would’ve wanted;

is always extra nice to his mother;

is dead scared of bees;

has hella good hair;

always dresses impeccably;

can be quite an ass.

Benedict Bridgerton (1993—)

1,87 cm; 6'2";

the artist of the family;

mostly paints landscapes;

doodles a lot;

often has paint on his hair and on his face and on his clothes;

is the only one who still goes to the family cabin by the beach;

graduated in fine arts at the Accademia di Belle Arti in Rome;

his paintings are sad and beautifully haunting;

believes in love at first sight;

is the tallest;the sweet Bridgerton;

is very protective of his sisters (that is the only thing that can prone him to violence, although in reality he wouldn’t hurt a fly);

very good with his hands;

a total and utter fool.

Colin Bridgerton (1997—)

1,75 cm; 5'9";

definitely the funny one;

the only one who has green eyes like Dad;

he's convinced that Holly Macclesfield is the love of his life, even after she cheated on him and got engaged to Nigel Berbrooke;

he travelled through Europe and Africa just to get away from the pain of it all;

he wrote a book about the things he's seen;

and the cultures he's experienced;

he majored in Greek and Roman architecture;

everybody likes him;

so charming, so handsome, so easy going;

the king of the easy smile;

he is never, ever, ever, ever sad;

he is never, ever, ever, ever mad;

what a dreamboat honestly.

Daphne Bridgerton (1998—)

1,68 cm;

slept with Eric Macclesfield and he broke up with her the following morning;

created a self-made business, the clothesline Daffiness;

is a fashion icon;

has a dying love for hats;

got a degree from the Université de Paris;

classy and edgy;

is the fun Bridgerton, always coming up with fun things to do;

wears a lot of sunglasses;

super independent woman who needs no man;

never, ever cries;

Eloise Bridgerton (2000—)

1,69 cm;

is a med-student in Sagaponak;

lively, talkative and genuinely fun;

sees the bright side in everything;

likes writing letters;

has zero time for men;

her favorite color was purple and she detested blood pudding;

the smart Bridgerton;

likes working with elders and children;

is very organized;

Francesca Bridgerton (2000—)

1,66 cm;

loves all things pretty;

is very feminine;

is very sensual;

always in perfect behavior;

the picture of sophisticated grace;

cares a lot about appearances;

a perfectionist;

is a seasoned liar;

had no filter;

spends most of her time at Flo’s Diner;

the love guru; she always knows when people have a thing for each other;

loves John *her boyfriend* in a platonic way;

has slept with a lot of boys; that is her way to hide what she really wants;

Gregory Bridgerton (2003—)

1,79 cm; 5'10";

he's favorite person in the world is Emma, the lunch lady;

he doesn't have a lot of friends, but he's friendly with a lot of people;

he notices the little people;

he's hungry ALL THE TIME;

he's secretly a fantastic cook;

he likes picnics;

outside, not inside;

he's tall and lanky;

the awkward Bridgerton;

he's a hopeless romantic and then just hopeless.

Hyacinth Bridgerton (2005—)

1,73 cm; 5'8";

she's one tough cookie;

she will kick your ass;

she likes solving mysteries;

she's very competitive and a sour loser;

her best friend is Lady Danbury for some reason;

she has boxing classes every Monday, Wednesday and Friday;

she's not very patient but extremely tenacious;

she's opinionated;

she will fight you;

the scary Bridgerton;

the tallest of her sisters.

Katharine Sheffield (1994—)

1,68 cm; 5'6";

she majored in politics with a master in women’s studies;

she lives in the wealthy manor of the mayor, who just happens to be her stepmother;

she's a pescetarian Monday through Wednesday, fruitarian Thursday through Sunday, and a vegetarian ALWAYS;

she volunteers for Greenpeace;

she's an atheist, or she tries to be;

clumsy as hell;has a great sense of humor;

has a corgi named Newton;

‘not the easy way but the right way’;

she hates when it rains because she's terrified of thunder;

her fiancé, Mason, dumped her on his surprise birthday party while the guests were hiding in the dark.

Edwina Sheffield (1998—)

1,52 cm;

the ‘Incomparable’ of 1953;

has buttery-colored hair and startling blue eyes;

likes reading and silent films;

petite and delicate;

Mayor Mary Sheffield (1976—)

has always been relatively wealthy;

married a very poor man;

Sophie Beckett (1996—)

1,57 cm; 5'2";

her father owned the Marvelous Penwood Hotel where she grew up;

her father was her best friend when he was alive;

her mother left them right after Sophie was born;

when Sophie was six, her father married the New York socialite Araminta Gunningworth;

he died soon after;

and because he didn’t leave a will, Araminta got everything—the hotel, the money and Sophie;

her best friends now are Mrs. Gibbons, the housekeeping supervisor, and Miss Timmons, the cook;

she is a fan of What everybody sees but nobody talks about;

because she needs to live vicariously through other people;

she works as a housemaid at Penwood Hotel;

she never gets a day off.

Araminta Gunningworth (1973—)

fabulously evil;

evil incarnated;

Rosamund Gunningworth (1996—)

1,57 cm;

has an interest in art;

works in a gallery;

helped curate the exhibition: What’s in a name?;

her real goal is to impress Benedict Bridgerton and then marry him;

over her rich, hot, dead body!

spoiled and fabulous;

Posy Gunningworth (1998—)

1,55 cm;

a Shakespeare fan, she was the one who came up with the idea for the What’s in a name?

never really lost her baby fat;

tries her best to be like her mother and sister;

isn’t very good at being mean;

likes food, especially cookies;

Penelope Featherington (2000—)

1,55 cm;

lives next door to Bridgerton Manor and often comes over for brunch;

is best friends with Eloise Bridgerton;

is the youngest of three sisters: Prudence, Philippa and Phoebe;

has flat chest and nose freckles;

bald head, flat chest, nose freckles and a dying sentence.

was just twelve and finishing 6th grade when she was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia which gives her shortness of breath and terrible headaches;

was bald during the entire time she was doing chemo; she hated the way she looked without hair and was always avoiding mirrors;

is the Hampton Girl;

started what everyone sees but nobody talks about when she was seventeen;

fell in love with Colin Bridgerton, her best friend’s brother, when she was fifteen;

studies journalism;

has a secret account currently filled with money;

Phoebe Featherington (1998—)

1,57 cm;

the second youngest Featherington;

is nicer than her older sisters;

doesn’t treat Penelope like she’s going to break at the slightest touch;

is actually pretty normal for a Featherington;

Philippa Featherington (1995—)

1,65 cm;

waaay to loud all the time;

you know when she’s in the room;

never stops talking;

never talks about anything interesting;

gossips 24/7;

Prudence Farber (1993—)

1,65 cm;

thinks she’s better than her sisters because she’s married, y’all;

has a son called Preston;

she married Penelope’s oncologist;

she can’t stop bringing up the fact that she married a doctor;

Portia Featherington (1969—)

Simon Basset (1991—)

1,85 cm;

has a stutter but hides like a pro;

was raised by Eva St. Clair;

is the sole heir of Global Hastings;

went to Harvard with Anthony Bridgerton;

lived abroad for most of his life;

is considered proud and above the company;

is actually just shy;

but also an arrogant little shit;

looks like he has no feelings whatsoever;

is in fact a very emotion person;

Philip Crane (1990—)

1,77 cm;

is one of the very few inhabitants of Sagaponack;

is a biology teacher with a PhD in botanic;

is not comfortable around people; prefers plants;

owns a greenhouse where he spends most of his time;

is unbelievably unaware of how good looking he is;

his wife suffered from deep depression which culminated in an attempted suicide, which he prevented, but resulted in her death anyway;

has twin children: Oliver and Amanda;

he likes the rain and his favorite color is green;

always looks morose;

hasn’t smiled in years;

Michaela Stirling (2000—)

1,65 cm; 5'5";

she believes that she and Francesca are soul mates;

she has a step brother called John who is currently dating Francesca;

she belongs to an old and important family of the tons;

she is as gay as they come;

her hobbies include music and Francesca;

she's taking art classes but what she's really passionate about it photography;

oh and Francesca.

John Stirling (2000—)

1,78 cm;

Lucinda Abernathy (2002—)

1,70 cm; 5'6";

she's a ballerina;

she's 100% invisible when she’s around her best friend Hermione;

which is all the time;

she still has both her parents;

she's very practical and honest;

a very grounded sort of girl;

she fake-dates Haselby.

Richard Abernathy (2000—)

Hermione Watson (2003—)

1,62 cm;

her family left town six years ago, but now they’ve returned;

lives next door to Lucy and they’ve been best friends since childhood;

is the most beautiful girl in town, taking the crowd from Francesca;

every boy wants her;

every girl wants to be her;

is surprisingly sweet and nice to everyone;

is secretly engaged to Lucy’s older brother;

Gareth St. Clair (2002—)

1,85 cm; 6'1";

his mother died in a car crash when he was five;

he used to disappear from school with his friends to party;

has a very difficult relationship with his father;

he's devastated when his brother George dies;

he becomes the partial owner of St. Clair Enterprises;

both he and his brother were registered with their mother's surname;

he's the only grandson of Lady Danbury;

he wears a lot of leather;

he rides a motorcycle;

he chainsmokes;

has a lot of anxiety.

George St. Clair (2000—2020)

1,78 cm;

the prodigal son;

smart, good-looking and well behaved;

got into Harvard;

got along with everyone;

was heir to half of half of St. Clair Enterprises;

died of pneumonia at the age of twenty-one;

Angelo Guido (1975—)

mean and violent;

nobody likes him;

doesn’t like anybody;

is in charge of the half of the half of St. Clair Enterprises which used to be belong to his wife and their son after her;

wants Gareth to sign the company over to him;

absolutely loathes Gareth;

Lady Emerauld St. Clair Danbury (1950—)

1,65 cm;

co-owner of St. Clair Enterprises;

the company was founded by her grandfather;

she gave half of half the company’s shares to each of her daughters, Isabella and Evanora;

after Isabella’s sudden death, her share was kept in the hands of her husband, Angelo Guido, until their eldest son was of age;

her husband was an oaf, but she was genuinely fond of him and had difficulty accepting his death;

has a sharp tongue;

walks with a cane she sometimes uses to hit people with;

Isabella St. Clair (1978—2007)

she married a man thirteen years her senior;

barely a year into the marriage, he grew mean and violent until their love died away;

a few years later, when Angelo was on a working trip, she fell in love with someone else and got pregnant;

was a great mother and spent a lot of times with her sons;

used to call them bambinos;

kept a diary in Italian;

she died in a car with her supposed lover;

Evanora St. Clair (1972—)

got a job as a nanny when she was fifteen;

it was supposed to be a temporary job, but Eva ended up staying for eighteen years;

still works with children at a helping center for children with learning and speaking disabilities;

never married or had children of her own;

Nigel Berbrooke (1995—)

Holly Macclesfield (1998—)

Colin’s high school sweetheart;

they were together for years until she dumped him to be with Nigel;

is a bimbo ass girl;

loves unitards;

Eric Macclesfield (1996—)

Daphne’s ex boyfriend;

broke up with her soon after she gave him her virginity;

total douchebag;

thinks no means yes;

deserves some good punches in that pretty face;

works for Global Hastings;

Mason (1990—)

the unfunny comedian;

he and Kate were engaged for three years;

broke up with her in his surprise birthday party unaware that the guests were hiding and listening;

stupid;

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tothelasthoursofmylife · 7 years ago

Text

August 8: Sneak Some Zucchini onto Your Neighbour’s Porch Day

Almost every time, I write something for a specific day, I will, for some reason, finish and upload it late.

This time, it was because, on August 8, I had a LOT of bad luck which swept over to the next few days which is why this chapter is late by three days... >.<

It’s a very silly side story (just look at the name) but, after rembering about the day while looking through my notes, for some reason, I just had to write it down. (And the story fit so unbelievably well into the timeline! I’m still amazed about that.)

Don’t expect much though XD

London, England, United Kingdom – August 1847

Cloudia didn’t like to stay in the Phantomhive townhouse longer than necessary. There were various reasons for that, and one of them was the fact that while the Phantomhive Manor was located in the middle of the woods with the next centre of human living being a few kilometres away, the townhouse could be found in the middle of London – a vibrating city which grew and grew in inhabitants. Many were fond of the liveliness of the city, politely ignored the Thames’ and the streets’ smell for the radiance – but Cloudia who preferred being all by herself in the library or the anteroom of her chambers, sitting comfortably in an armchair and devouring a book, preferably a good one, London was a place you made sure to leave as quickly as possible as soon as the Season was over.

Of course, Cloudia could still sit in silence and enjoy a book in the townhouse with the doors and the windows shut and barricading her from the loud world outside – if it wasn’t for her neighbours.

The manor didn’t have any immediate neighbour houses, but the townhouse had two: The house on the left belonged to the Dowager Duchess Sophia of Hainault, a nice elderly woman who, nowadays, spent most of her time in the countryside and didn’t even come to London for the Season. The house on the right, however, was the property of Arlington Lincoln, the Viscount of Middalanoware, and his wife, Danielle.

Danielle was two or three years older than Cloudia and much more energetic. She was even much more lively than Constantia and much more annoying than Cloudia’s cousin as her most salient “talent” was to order around servants with that piercing voice of hers and run around hysterically. Her husband, Arlington, was around a decade older than her but definitely not less loud and nerve-wracking. He alone had been a nuisance, but ever since he had married Danielle two years ago, the noise level had drastically increased. Undoubtedly, they were disastrously well made for each other.

Phantomhives had never been religious persons. Cloudia only ever attended the Easter and Christmas masses whenever she found the time. This lack of faith wasn’t connected to the fact that they murdered for a living – after all, there were killers who took lives for their religion just like there were killers who claimed themselves to be religious and murdered people for other reasons or for nothing else than “for the sake or thrill of it.” It was just that if you asked Cloudia that after seeing so much of the world’s dark side that you couldn’t do anything else but doubt the existence of a God.

The Viscount and Viscountess of Middalanoware, however, were devout members of the Anglican Church, and every Sunday, chaos broke out in their house to get ready for the Sunday mass. Unfortunately, they frequented a church whose mass started at eight o’clock in the morning which meant that around six o’clock, sometimes even earlier, Danielle Lincoln’s voice woke up the nearby residents like a vicious cock.

Including Cloudia who couldn’t believe that the walls of the Phantomhive townhouse were known for their “noise attenuation.”

If this house wasn’t family-owned for decades, I would have sold it ages ago to the next best person willing to live right next to Mr and Mrs Eardrum Piercer. And to their unbelievable and unknown fortune, being the Watchdog wasn’t a carte blanche for murder.

Cloudia woke up, rolled out of her bed, and grabbed her dark blue dressing gown which she put on and furiously buttoned. On her way out, she quickly checked in the mirror of her dressing table that she didn’t look too horrendous.

I couldn’t murder Arlington and Danielle – but I could surprise them at their back door and remind them as politely as I managed that they weren’t the only ones living on this street and that they also weren’t the only ones getting ready for church, only the only ones who couldn’t do it in adequate silence.

I massaged my temples. I had returned from my holidays in Wales only yesterday, and today, I had to visit Antonia Rossini’s tailor’s shop because I needed new clothes for Cedric and me for the meeting with the Queen next Saturday. I needed rest, I needed silence – I needed a few more wonderful hours of sleep. And a few annoying Zounderkites at whom I could be passive aggressive.

Walking down the corridor, Cloudia nearly collided with Cedric who was also wearing his dressing gown over his night clothes, but unlike her, he hadn’t bothered buttoning it or making sure that his hair didn’t give others the impression that he had been involved in a bombing.

Cedric blinked at her through his crooked glasses. “Countess, good that you are awake too – if you weren’t I would have had to question your hearing. Are the neighbours dying? And is that happening regularly?”

Cloudia shook her head and suppressed an unladylike yawn. “Unfortunately, my dear neighbours, Arlington and Danielle Lincoln, aren’t dying. They are only terribly noisy and get nervous and hysteric every Sunday as if it was their first mass although they are members of the church for many years now.”

“How long will this go on?”

“Until around half past seven.”

“I think I’ll return to the Dispatch now and continue sleeping there,” Cedric said, rubbing his eyes. “Good luck with whatever you want to do, Countess.”

He was about to turn around and walk back to his room, most likely to get his possessions, but Cloudia grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her.

“You are going nowhere, Undertaker,” she hissed. “We have to go to a tailor today for the Queen’s drawing room – and you will not leave to sleep somewhere else while I have to endure this nonsense.”

“How cruel, Countess, wanting me to suffer with you.”

“Don’t think of it as cruelty from me but as solidarity from you.”

“I can pass on solidarity – I can’t pass on sleep.”

“Do you think I think differently? That’s exactly why I wanted to pay the Lincolns a visit and tell them to lower their goddamn voices – of course, without putting it like that.”

“I like that, you should definitely say it like that,” Cedric meant. “Then they will be too shocked to speak.”

“I’m telling you – nothing in the world, no matter how shocking, will stop Danielle and Arlington from speaking too loudly in their piercing voices. The shock may make them even more hysterical.”

“How in the world aren’t they already dead?”

“I am asking that myself every time I’m here,” Cloudia replied, starting to walk again and dragging Cedric with her.

“But if nothing can stop them, Countess,” he asked, “can you stop them with only a polite ask?”

“Honestly, I don’t think so,” she said, “but I want to try. What do they say? ‘Suck it and see.’”

Cedric stared at her. “It seems like you really do need more hours of sleep – that was uncharacteristically colloquial for you.”

“I am talking – and when people are talking, they are colloquial. What makes it so wondrous? We aren’t in a novel after all,” Cloudia grumpily told him. “We don’t have to speak in perfect grammatically correct sentences. And we don’t have to use the right, intelligently formulated and intellectually appropriate proverbs or idioms. Sometimes, we can use the colloquial versions of them.”

“You only didn’t use it because it’s about pudding, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

“‘The proof of the pudding is in the eating.’ That’s the nice version of ‘Suck it and see.’ You didn’t want to use it because you didn’t want to mention pudding in front of me, right?”

She blinked at him. “Undertaker, you are being ridiculous.”

Cedric stopped walking and brought Cloudia to a halt too. “I am not. You didn’t want to make me hungry, right?”

“Undertaker…”

“But you’ve failed, Countess. I am hungry now. Do you think it would be eyebrow rising if I go and get Arwyn so that he makes me pudding and that cheesy Glamorgan sausage?”

Cloudia rolled her eyes. “Not that again.”

“They will never guess that I am a Grim Reaper. They will probably think I’m a magician, a witch, a sorcerer, a wizard – and I will say when they chase me to the top of a mountain with their torches and pitchforks: ‘I’m a wizard!’ in some fancy but not fancy fancy accent. And after my proclamation, I will seemingly vanish into thin air and continue eating my pudding and sausage in the Dispatch. Warm, comfortable, with the pleasant knowledge that I won’t have to attend any awkward parties anymore. Well, except the annual ‘Very Awkward Grim Reaper Ball.’ That’s not its official name, but everybody calls it by that name. Or perhaps, it’s only me. I don’t really talk to the other Reapers; I have no clue what goes on in that undead brains of them, and I don’t want to find out because it would be weird and…”

“Undertaker,” Cloudia cut him off. “We came back from Wales just yesterday – and you know how silly our stay there was –, and there’s a fixed amount of nonsense I can tolerate. And this amount is long strained. Also, even though I went to sleep early yesterday, I lack sleep �� and you lack it too. Our brains are not working properly; we are talking nonsense, the neighbours are nonsensical… It’s too much. We need to breathe in and out and stop this before it gets out of hand. On a side note: We both know that it would be much more believable if you said you were a jester than a wizard.”

“Today is ‘Sneak Some Zucchini onto Your Neighbour’s Porch Day.’”

She blinked at him, taken by surprise by his contextless statement. “Wait – what?”

Cedric stepped closer to her and bent down to whisper into her ear even though the corridor was empty except for them and even though he had openly talked about being a Grim Reaper only a few minutes ago. “I shouldn’t be telling you that but, in some centuries, August 8 will be known as ‘Sneak Some Zucchini onto Your Neighbour’s Porch Day.’”

“What kind of weird holiday is that?”

“The weirdest.”

“Do people really celebrate this day?”

“Only weird people.”

“And why do they do it?”

“Because it’s fun – it won’t silence the Lincolns, but, at least, it’s a funny, confusing prank.”

“And why did you mention it? Do you want to sneak some zucchini onto the Lincolns’ porch? We are a Watchdog and a Grim Reaper and make up a weird partnership, but we aren’t that weird to sneak zucchini on a porch. What reason is there to leave a fruit most wrongly call a vegetable on the porch of neighbours you don’t like? I have no idea what is wrong with the people in the future, but we are definitely not as weird as that. We aren’t such oddballs, such nutcases, such crackpots.

“If they find out about that, we will get sent straight to one of those awful asylums, and the hysteric laughter of Danielle and Arlington will sound right behind us until the carriage door closes and even all the way to the asylum and for all eternity. To cut my rambling short: This isn’t something we should do. Especially not I. No matter what, we will never sink so low.”

Cedric looked at her, his eyebrows raised, and Cloudia looked back at him, her own brows contracted.

“I will get as much zucchini as I can carry from the pantry,” Cedric said.

“I will make sure that the coast is clear,” Cloudia said. And with no other word, they went to work.

***

“Jester to Blood Queen – the hatchlings have safely landed in the nest, I repeat: Jester to Blood Queen, the hatchlings have…”

“Undertaker, I am standing right next to you.”

Cloudia and Cedric were standing behind some bushes in the front yard, shielded from the passers-by on the road. She had a spyglass in her hand although there was no need of it because the Lincolns’ porch could be seen very well by the naked eye from where they stood. He had a small sack full of zucchini thrown over his shoulder, looking like the oddest Santa Claus.

I wondered what Armstrong would think if he noticed that all his zucchini supplies had mysteriously vanished – and that, coincidentally, a bunch of zucchinis had appeared on the neighbour’s porch.

“What is the plan, Countess?” Cedric asked, pushing away the bush branches to look at the neighbouring house. The door was open, and a woman stood in the doorsill, talking loudly to the servants working on the carriage.

“I will go and distract Danielle,” Cloudia said. “It’s early, she is busy but manners are manners, and she would definitely invite me for tea in her parlour. We will go there, and, perhaps, she will take one of the servants working on the carriage with her. It doesn’t really matter if she does or not. What matters is that she is gone and that the servants are far too captivated by their work to notice a fast moving silver-haired man putting zucchini on the porch.” She paused. “Did I really say that?”

“You did,” Cedric said and nodded.

“I am not asleep, and this is nothing more but a fever dream?”

“It isn’t, and if it was, I would be the guard dog of your fever dream – and all the other fever dreams to come and go.”

“The guard dog of the guard dog?”

“The fever guard dog of the guard dog’s fever.”

“Let’s just start.”

“Yes, we should.”

“Then, we can sleep.”

Cedric smiled a young boy’s happy, innocent, but sly smile. “Then, we can sleep.”

***

With grace, Cloudia walked out of the townhouse’s courtyard and to her unpleasant neighbour and hoped that her grace and elegance could cover the fact that she was wearing a dressing gown and her hair was dishevelled.

Why lie?

I was doomed. If someone who knew me saw me on the street, I was doomed to a life of being ridiculed and being laughed at. The others living here would understand, surely they would. After all, I was definitely not the only one bothered by the Viscount and Viscountess. Passers-by who didn’t live here though wouldn’t get easy on me.

Hell, I was doomed.

But now, I could only smile happily and wave at Danielle as I had already entered her courtyard.

“Lady Cloudia! How did I get the pleasure?” Danielle Lincoln said, nearly screamed, her eyes widened in surprise.

“My dear Viscountess,” Cloudia said, approaching her. Every time, they stood side by side, she was always amazed how such a petite woman could produce such powerful sounds. “I am sorry if I am disturbing you so early – and even on a Sunday although I know very well that you are readying yourself for church. But can we still talk? It won’t take too long, I assure you.”

“Oh, well… yes, of course, Lady Cloudia,” Danielle replied, a puzzled smile on her lips. “Gisela!”

“You called for me, Viscountess?” spoke a voice from behind Cloudia. She stepped away and positioned herself differently to see an old, little woman with short brown hair and a fringe, glasses, wrinkles, who emitted wickedness and was wearing a housekeeper’s clothes.

“Gisela,” Danielle said, smiling as if she couldn’t sense the woman’s apparent evilness. “Could you prepare tea and cucumber sandwiches for Lady Cloudia and me?”

“Of course, Viscountess,” Gisela replied before she laid her small, vicious eyes on Cloudia. “We shouldn’t tolerate such behaviour,” she said as if Cloudia wasn’t there, and Cloudia had to fight the urge to kick her in the chin. “Arriving, uninvited, unannounced on a busy Sunday morning in such an inappropriate attire. Some people must have been raised in the wild – surely they are those deemed insane and looked away for good.” Gisela wrinkled her nose in disgust before she vanished inside the house.

I was certain that Agatha and Gisela were blood-related. Perhaps even mother and daughter. I should bring them together as they lived side by side. It would make a dreadful reunion.

Danielle cleared her throat, smiling, beaming. “Lady Cloudia? Please follow me to the parlour.” She turned around and walked ahead. Cloudia looked if she saw Cedric somewhere but she didn’t catch sight of him and followed Danielle inside.

***

I had never been inside the house of the Viscount and Viscountess of Middalanoware, and to be honest, it could have stayed like that.

You might have guessed that a house inhabited by two lively persons who only ever wore vibrant colours would emit life, but it didn’t, and it was clear that Gisela had been the one who had decorated the house. All was white and bleak and cold. It was just like how I imagined an asylum looked like.

An asylum where I would end up if someone found out about Operation Zucchini.

Or that I had thought of it as such.

“How is Arlington doing?” Cloudia asked, putting down her teacup after taking a short sip of the flavourless tea. “I would ask you how you are doing, but you are sitting right in front of me looking so lovely and healthy that it wouldn’t make a lot of sense if I did.”

Danielle smiled at her. “He is doing well. We are doing well – and thanks for the compliment, Lady Cloudia. But, in the hope that I don’t sound rude, may I ask what made you come to my house in a dressing gown?”

“Oh, you see, Danielle, I woke up – and, suddenly, a few interesting riddles came to my mind, and I thought ‘Oh, they would be perfect for my riddle loving friend Danielle!’ And because I was too excited for your answers and reactions, I couldn’t help myself but come to your house immediately to ask you the riddles.”

Danielle’s eyes lit up and widened. “Riddles, you say?” she shrieked and nearly pierced Cloudia’s eardrums.

The Viscountess of Middalanoware wasn’t very intelligent, and she knew that very well, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t be a lover of riddles and mysteries from the bottom of her heart.

Cloudia smiled. “Nice ones, wonderful ones – ones you’ve hopefully never heard before.”

“Then,” the Viscountess chewed on her lips and pondered for a moment if she could spare a minute or two even though they were in a hurry, “let us start, Lady Cloudia.”

She cleared her throat. “Very well, Danielle, here’s the first one: ‘Of flesh and blood sprung am I ever; but blood in me that find ye never. Many great lords bear me proudly, with sharp knives cutting me loudly. Many I’ve graced right honourably: Rich ones many I’ve humble made; many within their grave I’ve laid!’”

It took Danielle a while to come up with the answer. “A pen!” she yelled, smiling. “The answer to the riddle is a fine, fine pen.”

“That’s right,” Cloudia replied, making the smile on Danielle’s face grow. “Then, to the next one: ‘I’ve seen you where you never was, and where you ne’er will be; and yet you in that very same place May still be seen by me.’”

Danielle giggled. “It’s so easy! It’s a face’s reflection! These riddles aren’t challenging at all, Lady Cloudia.”

“Well, then, let us head to a scenario: We are walking through a park when we see two women talking to an older man while sitting on a bench. I come to a halt and make you stop too as I want to point the women out to you. I tell you, ‘Those women, do you see them? They are like two peas in a pot with not only their faces being one and the same but also their dresses and their hair-does.’ And upon hearing my words, you reply, ‘But, Lady Cloudia, dearest, isn’t it obvious? The two women are nothing but twins.’ And I shake my head. ‘The women, Lisa and Louise Barnes, share a birthday, share a mother and a father but they are certainly not twins.’

“With this scenario in mind, Danielle – what is the explanation?”

The Viscountess seemed to struggle with finding the solution to this riddle – which was fine for Cloudia as she didn’t have to think of another one.

Of course, as long as Cedric didn’t take too long to leave some zucchinis on a porch.

And just as if he had heard her thoughts, Cedric appeared on the window opposite from Cloudia and behind the Viscountess of Middalanoware. He danced around like a mad joker, a triumphal smile on her face, and due to her lack of sleep, Cloudia had problems to keep a straight face so that Danielle didn’t notice the man at the window.

“Could it be astrological twins?” Danielle had said before she hit herself softly against the head. “Of course, it can’t be! Silly me! After all, they have the same mother and the same father, right?”

“Yes, they do,” Cloudia replied while Cedric made terrible grimaces.

“But… wait – what if they are adopted?”

“They aren’t adopted.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes – they are of the same blood. And they cannot be astrological twins because, then, they would still be twins which they aren’t.”

Cedric pressed his face against the window, distorting it.

Hell – had he always been so annoying?

“Lady Cloudia?”

“Hm?”

“I was asking you if you could tell me the solution now as I am afraid that I don’t have the time to think longer about it.”

“I am sorry, Danielle – I was in thought and…”

Now, Cedric was joggling with a few stones – and failed miserably. The stones rained upon him, and Cloudia nearly started to laugh.

Which made Danielle frown. The frown looked almost obscure on her usually happy, smiling face.

“Is there something behind me?” she asked, turning around, and Cloudia’s heart sunk – but Cedric had vanished before Danielle could glimpse at him. She looked back at Cloudia, still frowning.

“I am sorry,” Cloudia repeated. “A funny memory sneaked onto my mind porch and distracted me. Now, to the solution: You see, Danielle, the riddle explicitly says that Lisa and Louise Barnes aren’t twins, but they are still siblings born on the same day to the same set of parents – but what you forgot to consider is that the riddle doesn’t exclude the possibility of Lisa and Louisa not being the only children of their parents. And they aren’t as they have a sister named Lucy – they are triplets, not twins.”

“Oh, I see!” Danielle clapped her hands together. “What a wonderful riddle! I thank you, Lady Cloudia, and a nice day to you.”

“A nice day to you too, Danielle.”

***

Cloudia had to stop herself from running out of the drawing room and all the way back to the townhouse. Danielle hadn’t brought her to the door as Cloudia had told her that she could do it on her own, having already stolen so much of her precious time she could have spent with church preparations.

She sneaked out of the kitchen door – and walked right into Cedric’s arms, was welcomed by his impish grin. Then, they appeared behind their bush again, waiting for the Lincolns to step out of the door and –

“ARLINGTON,” Danielle cried in piercing confusion so that all the world could hear her, “DO YOU KNOW WHY TWENTY ZUCCHINIS ARE ON OUR PORCH FORMING THE WORD ‘SILENCE’?”

“Twenty-two zucchinis,” Cloudia whispered, smiling. “You need twenty-two zucchinis to form the word…” A chuckle blurting out of her mouth interrupted her. Giggling himself, Cedric took her hand and guided her back to the secret door whose passage behind led to Cloudia’s chambers. They had taken the same way earlier to get out without running into any servants. As soon as the secret door closed behind them, Cloudia’s laughter echoed through the passage – and Cedric didn’t miss this opportunity to laugh with her.

“Did you see her face?” he said in-between ringing laughter. “It was priceless! Priceless!”

They steadied and held onto each other or fell against the walls on their way back to Cloudia’s chambers, and no matter how many steps they had taken – their laughter didn’t run dry.

They tumbled through the secret door and fell down onto the carpet, holding their bellies.

“I cannot believe that we really did that!” Cloudia exclaimed, and Cedric couldn’t speak and only nodded. Then, he reached into his dressing gown’s pocket – and held up a pudding.

“See what I got from the Lincolns’ kitchen.”

“‘The proof of the pudding is in the eating.’”

“Then, let’s proof the pudding and eat it.”

But they made no move to eat it. Instead, they looked at each other and smiled. They didn’t speak; they didn’t stir – they only lay next to each other, the shared laughter from seconds ago still running through their bodies.

And I cherished this moment – no matter how weird, how odd, how peculiar it was.

Because, apparently, we had left Wales yesterday, but Wales hadn’t left us.

Not for now, at least.

But I knew that as soon as I had woken up for the second time today – I would be the Countess again.

And Wales would be gone for once and for all.

The third riddle was taken from Sherlock Holmes’ Elementary Puzzles (Carlton Books). The first two riddles can be found here.

Gisela was named after and based on my old German teacher whom I hate with all my heart and soul.

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