#Pickle toils

[burgern0p11ckle]

Hiya GGG fandom!

You ever think about the fact Inspeka kidnapped King? Like there's no possible way he didn't and he just had her somewhere deep in the God Complex just rotting until Godpoke came along. Inspekta was literally so driven to keep her ascension from happening he kidnapped someone and framed them. I get a little sick thinking about this and the fact King literally forgave him but not before throwing a little line out to make him realize his foils in being power hungry I HATE IT HERE!!!!!!

[jar0fhoney]

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 (NSFW) - PART 4 - PART 5 (NSFW) - PART 6 - PART 7 (NSFW) - PART 8 (NSFW)

Your family did fine. You were more comfortable than some, but not so comfortable that you could sit idle. The crops had started to bud, and the shop was filled with all manner of pickled vegetables, fresh eggs, and flowers. You counted the coppers and silvers in the little lock box under the counter. Business was the same as usual, but your brow still furrowed.

Mother was getting tired. The decades of tilling, sowing, reaping, and harvesting had started to toll on her. Especially after your father left. The bastard. Your mother labored at home with an aching back and bad knees. Before long the crops would flourish and need tending. It was more than enough work for two, unfathomable for just you alone.

Jeering came from outside the shop. A band of orc hunters with their catches. They were a threatening bunch. Hard and strong. One orc could have the strength of two men. In the great cities they faced more discrimination, but out here someone either hunted for their meat, or payed other people to do the hunting for them. And the orcs… they were masterful at what they did. And so they were welcomed.

The rusted hinges of your shop door creaked. “Did you miss me?”

Any desire to feign positivity drained from your person. You didn’t even try to hide the sour look on your face. Milo was a repugnant leech that had been stalking your family for years. He had tried courting each one of your elder sisters, losing them each time to men better than him. And now you were the last sister on the list. Unmarried. And running out of time. The latter fact he was quite aware of.

”How is Celina?” You never liked how he called your mother by her first name. It was too familiar. You don’t bother to look up from your coin counting. “My Mother’s wellbeing is none of your concern.” Milo sauntered up to the counter, “y/n-“

You slammed your fist, sending a few coins into the air. “When will you get the idea that my family wants nothing to do with you?” You still couldn’t look him in the eye. He sighed, picking up one of the coppers from the floor, “You would rather your mother toil in the field? You would rather surrender yourself to the life of a shopkeep? It’s a waste.”

You had no answer for him. Because he was right to question your choices. Yes you truly enjoyed running the family shop, but you couldn’t possibly keep this up for long without your mother. She deserved peace and rest. But he was just… a nuisance at best. Frightening at worst. His family owned half the town, and how easy it would be for them to blacklist you and your mother from ever doing business in their marketplace again.

”Anyways…” He dropped the coin down onto your counter with a clank, “Winter will come. And will you be prepared? If your mother cannot help you work the fields…”

”Are you trying to give me an ultimatum?” You had pushed the idea of next winter out of your head the second the ice started to melt. But he was right, what would you do? He didn’t entertain your question with a response. No… it wasn’t an ultimatum. It was a threat. A threat that when winter came you would get what was coming to you. He made his way out the door, the rusty hinges screeching. “You should really fix that.” He gave a nasty grin and let the door slam behind him.

You pushed all the thoughts of worry from your head. It was something you had grown skilled at doing. Gods be damned if you let him spoil such a lovely morning. You threw the windows of the shop open, arranging bouquets from your flower garden for the street to see.

At night when you and your mother pray over dinner, you beg anyone listening for an eternal spring.

~

Two weeks pass uneventfully. You sell many bouquets of flowers to well-to-do ladies, and your mother’s special pickled red onions fly off the shelves as usual. In the early morning you sit counting your coins, listening to the soft bustling of the market just beginning to wake up.

”You know you can pickle these eggs right?”

You keep your eyes trained on the coins, trying not to lose count. There is a long pause, but you can tell the man hasn’t walked away, “We don’t sell any here.”

“You should.” You raise your head to cock an eyebrow at him. You try to stifle a gasp from your chest. An orc man with olive green skin is leaned slightly through the window of your shop. You had never had an orc approach your little shop. They always had bigger and better things to sell and buy.

”We don’t sell those here.” A more rational person would have thought twice before talking back to an orc hunter. But you were tired of men questioning you. A young lady entered the shop, eyeing the orc man still leaning on your window sill. The door squealed unpleasantly, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Fine,” The orc smirked and shrugged, exiting your window.

~

The next day, there was a basket waiting for you on your shop’s doorstep. You groan. This wouldn’t be the first time Milo left gifts for you to find. You take a peek into the bracket and… what was this? Spices? Salt? Garlic cloves? Underneath the goods were two silver coins.

You yelped at the sound of fingers rapping against the window pane. You reeled around expecting Milo. But… it was the orc man. The orc man from the day before. He pointed at the little latch holding the window closed. You were sure he could punch his way right through the window if he really wanted in. “I don’t want any trouble!” You yelled at him through the window.

Another smirk crept onto his face, “I bring no trouble with me, Miss. I just thought you might like a chance to make some more coin.”

What this lecherous orc seriously propositioning you for pay? Before he could say another thing, you hurled an egg at him. You hoped it would have just broken against the window to frighten him off. But to your horror it crashed through the glass, making a direct impact with his face. “Fuck!” You heard him fall on his ass in the street.

You rushed to the window. The orc was splayed out on the cobblestones, his forehead bleeding from the broken glass. He lay motionless, and you started to panic. Oh Gods. Oh Gods no. You just assaulted an orc. A big strong orc man who kills things for his living. Not even Milo or his family’s status could protect you from the wrath of an angry orc. You threw open the screeching rusted front door. Oh gods he was huge. He knew where you worked. He could follow you home. What if he brought his fellow huntsmen with him? What if they hurt your mother as well?

You couldn’t stop any of the thoughts racing through your head. You were worried about making it through winter… now you might not even make it through the summer. You bit down on your fist, trying to keep composure.

”Got a hell of an arm…” The orc grunted, pulling you out of your trance. He sat himself up, bringing his fingers to the drops of blood running down his temple. “Ha!” He guffawed and made his way to stand up.

”Please… please.” You weren’t sure if you were praying to a high power or pleading to him. His eyes met yours but there was no rage, or fury. There was a look of annoyance, maybe a bit of mild amusement. Rubbing his hand over the back of his neck he said, “Miss. I only meant… you should make pickled eggs. There are a lot of orc boys out here far from the motherland. They would pay a premium for a taste of home.”

You were nearly speechless, “I- I don’t know how orcs prefer their pickled eggs-

“That basket has everything you need.”

“Oh… okay. Very well. Sir.” Your voice wavered and he could see how clearly frightened you were.

The orc groaned, wiping more blood off his face. “Sorry about this. See you around.” You hoped that wasn’t a threat, but with that he jogged his way down the street.

Blasted pickled eggs.

[sefusneezed]

INEPTUS MECHANICUS

Synopsis

Within the frigid cities of the forge-world Ineptus Anser, Manufactorium workers toil to death to create medical equipment and mass-produce medicines. In the dark alleyways hide gangs of scavengers, ready to pounce on unsuspecting Tech-Priests and tear their bionics from their remaining flesh. Thousands freeze throughout the night, unable to secure shelter to protect them from the bitter cold.

But all of these are 'poor people problems' to Katrumarius. As the narcissistic and airheaded nepotism baby of the forge-world's Archmagos, she already has the title of Metasurgeon despite her young age, and her borderline-heretical experiments result in nothing more than just a slap on the wrist. Her war criminal Tech-Marine friend Lyrane, supposedly tasked with learning from the forge-world's tech-adepts, gets stuck going along with Katrumarius's genetor shenanigans.

---

Character Refs

COMICS DIRECTORY:

La Creatura

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five (WIP)

SHORT ONE-OFFS

Old Men

Pickle Kat

Skit Plushie Fucking Dies

Epic Noosphere Gif

Father Daughter Bonding Experience!!! Gah!! Scary !!

Lyrane Gets Smacked

Kalanis Commits Insurance Fraud

Custom Mouse Cursor

ROGUE SKITARII OCS

Chocolate Milk Guys

Angry Birds

[veronicaleighauthor]

In Defense of Amy March

A couple weeks ago, I did a re-read of “Little Women.” It had been a couple of years since I picked it up and I was in the mood for some Alcott. Oh, and the March family. I’ve been deeply attached to the story since I was about fourteen. Jo March was the heroine after my own heart. There was one character though, I could never warm to. That was Amy March. I really couldn’t stand her. She burned Jo’s manuscript and got that trip to Europe, and she was just so snobby and selfish. Right? I mean, that’s how she’s portrayed in most adaptations. Jo has to toil and suffer while Amy gets everything handed to her on a silver platter. During this re-read I decided to pay attention to the youngest March sister and see if I was justified in my dislike of her.

“It’s nice to have accomplishments and be elegant, but not to show off or get perked up,” said Amy thoughtfully.

When the story opens, Amy is a kid. She’s twelve and the baby of the family. Mr. March is serving as a chaplain at war and Marmee works outside the home. Older sisters Meg is a governess, Jo is a companion, and Beth is the homemaker. Amy goes to school and deals with much of what most kids deal with. She struggles with her lessons, she is teased for being poor, she tries to sneak pickled limes in to eat them. Amy is on the receiving end of her teacher, Mr. Davis’s brutality when he discovers she has limes and raps her hand. She is self-conscious about her nose. She has to wear everyone’s hand-me-downs. She is determined to be a proper lady, she is artistic, and she tries to improve her vocabulary. Amy takes parts in her sisters’ theatricals, though doesn’t want to go to the extremes that Jo goes to, and avoids bruising herself.

If anybody had asked Amy what the greatest trial of her life was, she would have answered at once, ‘My nose.’ 

Amy and Jo often disagree with one another. One evening, when Jo and Meg plans to go out to the theater with their new friend Laurie, Amy is determined to join them. She and Jo go round and round, but Amy is bluntly told she isn’t wanted and it would be an intrusion for her to be there (my words, not the actual dialogue). While Jo is away, Amy burns a manuscript her sister has been working on. A fight ensues and though Amy tries to make up for what she did, Jo won’t forgive her. She tries once more to spend time with Jo, when her sister and Laurie are skating at the local pond, and nearly drowns as she crashes through the ice. Her live is saved and she and Jo reconcile. Jo forgives the girl and though Amy knew she was doing wrong when she destroyed the manuscript, maybe it’s time we as readers (myself included) forgive her too.

Amy opened her eyes, and held out her arms, with a smile that went straight to Jo’s heart. Neither said a word, but they hugged one another close, in spite of the blankets, and everything was forgiven and forgotten in one hearty kiss.

When Beth falls ill with scarlet fever, Amy is determined to stay at home with her family, risking her own health and wellbeing. Laurie manages to convince her to go to Aunt March’s, where uncertain of what the future may bring, she makes a will of her own in case she dies. Aunt March takes a liking to Amy and from then on, she is the older woman’s companion. Once Beth is well, Amy is allowed to come home, in time for her father to return home from the war and to see her older sister Meg engaged to John Brooke.

The next time we see Amy, it is three years later and she has grown into the proper young lady she always aspired to be. She dresses well, pays calls, dabbles in various forms of artwork, donates her time and energy to charity booths. Somehow, we as readers belittle this, when this was common way of life for ladies in the 19th century. Consider Marian Brooke, of The Gilded Age TV show, who embraces her own femininity and lives and thrives in New York society. Amy March is doing the same thing – while Jo breaks many of the societal rules, Amy wants to be part of that world. This is best demonstrated in Part Two, when Amy and Jo pay calls at various friends’ and relatives’ homes. Amy does her utmost to help Jo, but Jo (and don’t get me wrong, I love my girl Jo) is downright rude, improper, immature, and sloppy. Amy, on the other hand, is well-mannered, her appearance is neat, she is respectful, and she shows an interest in her hosts. This leaves an impression on Aunt Carol, who is planning a trip to Europe. She originally planned to invite Jo, but the visit shows her Amy would be a better candidate to take to Europe.

“You can go through the world with your elbows out and your nose in the air, and call it independence, if you like. That’s not my way.”

You laugh at me when I say I want to be a lady, but I mean a true gentle-woman in mind and manners, and I try to do it as far as I know how.

So, Amy didn’t steal Jo’s trip to Europe. She was true to herself and a wealthy relative rewarded her for it. She accompanies Aunt Carol and her family on their tour of Europe. This was another common practice in the 19th century. Family or friends would take a young lady along, to see the sights and with any luck, make a match there (think “The Portrait of a Lady,” by Henry James). Amy enjoys herself there, meeting new people, wearing the fashions of the time, learning about art and the countries she visits. The original plan of her life is that she becomes a successful, famous artist. In that way, she’s equally ambitious to Jo. However, while in Europe, she comes to accept her own limitations. Amy understands she has talent, but she doesn’t have genius. At least not compared to the greats or her contemporaries. She comes to terms with this; she will always love art and be artistic, but she must be practical now.

Very few occupations were open to women of that era, especially in the social circles Amy moved in. Teaching or being a governess would have been acceptable – many ladies of genteel and respectable families worked as governesses. Meg worked as a governess. But the pay wasn’t great and it would be a step down for a socially conscious young woman. The only way to secure her future was to marry well. By today’s standards, and many readers of “Little Women” it’s considered mercenary for Amy to think of marrying for money. However, again, think of The Gilded Age show, where some of the characters did or do want to marry for financial security – Agnes van Rhijn and her son Oscar van Rhijn.

Amy herself states: “I may be mercenary, but I hate poverty, and don’t mean to bear it a minute longer than I can help. One of us must marry well. Meg didn’t, Jo won’t, Beth can’t yet, so I shall, and make everything okay all round.”

If Amy marries say Fred Vaugn, one of her suitors, she intends to help her family and those around her. It isn’t a bad plan…but it isn’t the right plan for her. After spending some time with Laurie, who she met up with in Europe, she understands she can’t marry just for money. Marmee and Father didn’t raise her that way and it wouldn’t be enough for her. Love, respect, admiration, and friendship must be part of the equation. The more time she spends with Laurie, she slowly falls in love with him. However, Amy isn’t pleased with Laurie’s behavior as of late. If she had really wanted to marry for money, she could have ignored his vices and set her cap at him. He once loved Jo and after nursing a broken heart, he meanders around Europe spending his grandfather’s money, wasting time, and not living up to his full potential. It is Amy who inspires him to become the best version of himself…and it is Amy he truly falls in love with. According to the book, Amy didn’t steal Laurie from Jo, because he never truly belonged to her.

“I’m not afraid of storms, for I’m learning how to sail my ship.”

Amy and Laurie both find their way, they marry, and after the tragedy of losing Beth, they return home. They find their happy ending together.

So was Amy selfish, shallow, prissy, or evil? Nope. No more than the rest of us. She was a young woman who found her place in the world. Her definition of happiness was different than Jo’s, but it doesn’t make her any less of a heroine.

What do you think? Do you like Amy March?

[izzyeffinhands]

Random question: which would Izzy find sexier, a blacksmith or a carpenter?

“ That’s a tough one, that is. “ Izzy raises his current work, eyeing to see if the sides were even. They weren’t. Grumble.

“ They’re both artisans, true fuckin’ artists of their craft. “ Izzy continued. “ Obviously I must like carpenters, I mean look at me. And look at the things they create, look at this beautiful wonder of a ship. Some carpenters put in such intricate detail.. you have to admire it. But then there’s blacksmiths. They also work with their hands, sweat and toil over every blade. And it’s not just the blade.. it’s the handle, some are so beautifully smelted, little metal works of art. “ Well now he realized he had a real pickle on his hands; trying to decide which he liked more.

“ Hard for me to choose really.. “ He pursed his lips. “ Carpenters then I s’pose, there’s more of a variety in things they create.. and each artisan is so different. “

@sweetdreamr

[jcmarchi]

Stardew Valley 1.6 Patch Drops Today – Here's What To Expect

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/stardew-valley-1-6-patch-drops-today-heres-what-to-expect/

Stardew Valley 1.6 Patch Drops Today – Here's What To Expect

Eight years after its official launch, Stardew Valley remains one of the most popular games on the market right now, which is no surprise; whether you’re marrying a neighbor, farming crops, or toiling away in the mines, it’s a game with something for everyone. Its creator, solo developer ConcernedApe, has updated it with plenty of free patches over the years, adding multiplayer, new farm types, and more, but when he moved on to work on his next game, Haunted Chocolatier, the Stardew updates came to an end. That is, until today.

1.6 was announced almost a year ago and promises to add a number of new features, including hats on pets and the highly coveted iridium scythe. Here’s an image of some of the planned updates from last September.

As the release draws closer, ConcernedApe has also teased smaller updates as well, leaving small patch notes on his X account each day. The patch will fix the sword’s downward hitbox, make sure harvesting is the same speed walking right-to-left as left-to-right, and pickles, jellies, juices, and wines will be colored to match their fruit or vegetable of origin. Finally, you can drink mayonnaise. Yeah, you read that right.

Some more updates are included as images below.

basic), it will yield a sapling with the same quality as its fruit. The higher the quality, the faster the sapling will mature” typeof=”foaf:Image” class=”image-style-body-default”>

In addition to the new content, ConcernedApe says he wanted to update the game to make modding “easier and more powerful.” On that note, he recently announced that many existing mods are already updated for the new version, though he recommends trying the patch without mods first. There will also be an option to keep your game in the 1.5.6 patch if you don’t want any of the changes.

Stardew Valley’s 1.6 patch launches later today on PC, with mobile and console updates coming sometime in the future.

Will you be jumping back into Stardew Valley? Let us know in the comments!

[secretly-a-pumpkin-spice-latte]

Halloween Eye of Newt

Bubble, bubble. Toil and trouble. This appetizer is commonly known and used but, I have put my own little twist on this recipe. It is deviled eggs made to look like the eyeballs of a lizard. It a hit with the kids at my Halloween party. 12 eggs, 1 tablespoon mayonnaise, 2 drops green food coloring or as needed, 1 pinch celery salt, 1 tablespoon sweet pickle relish, 1 can sliced black olives drained, 1 tablespoon prepared yellow mustard

[coffeeangelinabox]

Tale As old As Time - Part 22

Proclaimers were sent to brave the weather with silver trumpets and flags that bore the crest of Kallon's line and Aliandra's alongside it. A Temple-man was summoned. The Temple was prepared with candles and flowers. Fires were lit in an attempt to warm it.

"But why?" people whispered to one another. "Why wed today when the wedding was scheduled for the day after anyway?"

"True love," sighed a number of young women.

"Pregnancy," suggested their mothers and grandmothers cynically.

In the taverns, men asked one another if they truly wanted to see this joining go ahead.

"The Great One is wroth at the mere thought," argued some. "Look at the ice, feel that wind. He howls His displeasure and we must take heed."

"It's a storm and will pass," said others. "We could be weathering this in the trenches! I, for one, would rather drink beer and toast our new queen's good health."

In the end, even the staunchest supporters of Vaalonian superiority and believers in the Great One's displeasure were warm in the taverns and would not be storming the royal palace in the frigid rain. Many grumbled and muttered, suggestions to ensure no mixed line endured were shared, but no one raised a weapon when instead they could raise a glass.

And outside the storm howled, the wind taking on new ferocity, ice slanting towards the ground like a volley of arrows.

"It is as though we are under siege," said some.

"It is sent by those Semartin wizards, you mark my words," said others.

"It is a little weather, we have survived such before. The storm the year the king's lady grandmother was born was legendary in its destruction," argued only a few philosophers and men of science.

Only one, an old lady by the name of Elspeth saw the truth. Elspeth was wizened and had no family of her own. She was Vaalonian born, but years of toiling in the fields had left her as brown and weathered as a pickled nut. She was blind and no one knew quite how old she was, even the next elder in line - old man Thaston - remembered Elspeth, a grandmother already when he was a lad.

Holding court in The King's Way, the only woman there as she downed shot after shot of gin, Elspeth's cracked voice rose over the hubbub of talk and arguments, silencing young and old alike. "Are you all fools, can't you see what is before you?" She demanded.

"Buy her more gin to go away," shouted one.

"Let her speak," said another. "She's old and her brain is feeble."

"Semartis troubled by a plague and us by this weather," Elspeth continued, caring not one whit for the disinterest about her. "That can be no mere coincidence! Some dark force wants to stop this peace."

"That's what I've been saying!" argued a brash young man, muscles well formed for he was a stone mason.

Elspeth's cane cracked against the floor, and despite her blindness, she turned with absolute precision to the speaker. "Not your Great One, fool," she snarled. "Benevolent Gods don't turn people away from wickedness with fear and destruction. This is something that seeks to make us afraid. That wants us to believe interminable war is better than risk of the unknown."

"And what do you know of the unknown?" hooted a boy from a stool at the back, eyes glazed with whiskey. "You have lived here always."

"I know a great deal more about almost everything than you, and I tell you, the only way out of this storm is through."

A gale of laughter greeted her pronunciation and, with great dignity, Elspeth slid from her stool and pulled a coat about herself.

"Hey now," said the barkeep, a kindly man. "You can't go out in this, mother."

"I am no mother of yours. My sons are dead and buried. I will brave a little rain that will take me to the wedding that ensures it is not so of yours."

"Then," said the barkeep, looking uneasily at the windows "then I will accompany you."

The quiet pronouncement stopped the hoots and mockery and jeers. Quietly, the rest of the men stood.

"Aye," said one. "I have come this far to witness this wedding. I too will go."

"And I."

"Me too."

"I think it a greivous mistake, but I too will see this moment of history."

And to a man, the tavern emptied, following Elspeth in a winding single file like chastened school boys.

Seeing the parade march pass, others called to them. "Where do you go in this dreadful weather?"

"To the palace, we go to witness the wedding."

And more joined, and more. Some with coats wrapped about them, others with planks held above their heads. Girls with linked arms to keep themselves from being gusted away. Sons took their aging parents by the hands as they had not since they were children to help them keep their feet, babes were wrapped in shawls and tucked close to the skin for warmth. And the crowd grew, until, as the bell tolled the hour of the wedding, the entirety of the city and of the guests were at the gates, prepared to see Kallon take Aliandra as his queen.

After being forced into a loveless political marriage, a prince and princess agree to split a love potion in hope of finding happiness.

[burgern0p11ckle]

wouldn't it be fucked up if there were just so few universes Capo and Hector get together romantically that they could count it on a single hand, could you imagine the GUILT. . .

[the-breloominati]

:O

pickle cauldron!!!

[strawwritesfic]

Fred and George Weasley x Female!Reader: Toil and Trouble

Summary: Fred and George’s latest business scheme has unexpected results for them and their irritable friend.

Fic Trade Prompt: When I drink you in, I can’t breathe you out.

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (sexual references; a definite issue with consent (the reader asks someone to stop doing something and is told she doesn’t really want them to and this is not portrayed as a bad thing in the story); a throw away line implying a very cruel joke toward Ron and Lavender; reference to Umbridge’s Blood Quill; twin threesome fantasy; Katie Bell is in the wrong year; Gryffindor!Reader; set during Order of the Phoenix)

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Notes: This thing is about 8,000 words long, just so you know going in. Also, I wrote it well over a decade ago at this point.

Toil and Trouble

When you walked into the sixth years’ boys’ dormitory that evening, it wasn’t to find what you expected. During all your years at Hogwarts, it was normally the one place you could count on to be full of activity no matter what the hour. From wild laughter to “oohs” and “ahhs”’ from snapping fireworks to the occasional muffled cries of various magical beasts, Fred and George Weasley’s room was definitely never quiet. You could bound in at four o’ clock in the morning and you doubted you’d wake either of them up (their roommates, having learned to sleep through their various noises, were another story entirely).

That night, however, it was so quiet you almost turned around and walked straight back out the door, so certain you were that you’d somehow got the wrong room. It was completely silent and nearly empty. The only movement was coming from a small fire lit in the center, on top of which was a potion spewing copious amounts of silvery smoke. There was no way that Fred and George would send a terrified first year to find you in the common room and drag you up here for this. But over the large simmering cauldron sitting in the middle of the floor were two identical red heads that could belong to no one but your two best friends.

“Um, guys?” you said as the door swung shut behind you. “You wanted to see me?”

Both boys looked up, grinning. The light of the fire caused shadows to dance across their faces, making them look, if anything, all the more devious than they normally did. They spoke at the exact same time. “Good evening, [Name].”

“Right…” You trailed off, cocking your head at the pearly potion bubbling beneath them. Normally they only had you up here for things that were half-finished–like that time their Fever Fudge worked so well they’d nearly flooded the room with sweat. “And you called because…?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” George said in mock-affronted tones. He gestured toward the cauldron. When he spoke again, his voice was low, an excited hiss. “Fred and I–we’ve finally done it!”

“…Done what?”

You wracked your brains, trying to remember if any of the products they’d been discussing lately had anything to do with potions. Nothing came to mind. You could have sworn at last discussion they’d still been trying to iron out their Puking Pastilles.

Thankfully, Fred showed his usual knack for answering any unasked questions you may have had. “You remember that we were going to sneak into Snape’s office last night?”

“You weren’t sneaking. You had detention. Again.”

Fred poked your nose, smirking. “All part of the plan.”

You deadpanned and pushed his hand away, trying all the while to ignore the flush you felt in your cheeks. “What plan?”

“To steal the last few ingredients for our Amortentia,” George said. He patted the side of his cauldron fondly. “Which we managed, no thanks to you.”

“I had detention with McGonagall last night. You know I would have been right there with you if I hadn’t.”

“Lines.” Fred sniffed dismissively. “We had to pickle grindylow fingers.”

“Big deal. I’ve already done that twice.” You were stung that either of the twins would think you wanted to skip out another one of their infamous plans. But you couldn’t show them that or they’d just take the mickey out of you longer.

“Well, Snape said you had to make up your detention tomorrow, so I suppose we’ll forgive you just this once.”

“Thanks…” You squinted at the potion. Something George said was ringing some sort of bell in your head. You listened for a few seconds, and then: “Wait! You’re making a love potion?”

“A little slow on the uptake this evening, aren’t we?” said George. “Ah, well.” He jabbed at the bubbling liquid with his wand and several more curlicues rose from the steam. “You can still help us.”

Your fingers wrapped around your wand. “Help you how?”

George leaned back, an innocent smile playing on his features. “What does this potion smell like to you, [Name]?”

“Should it smell like something?”

“Haven’t you been paying attention in potions at all lately, dear [Name]?” Fred asked.

“No.” You frowned. “And normally neither would you guys. What’s with the sudden interest? Not actually wanting to gain an N.E.W.T. now, are you?”

“Worrying about your grades never hurts,” George said firmly. “Something you might want to take into account. You barely scraped by your O in the subject, didn’t you?”

“You two will be worried about your grades when Umbridge stops crushing on the Minister of Magic,” you muttered as you stuffed your fingers into your armpits, “and that was practically the only O.W.L. you both got.”

“Just answer the question,” Fred said.

“I’ve already told you; it doesn’t smell like anything.”

“Nothing at all?” Fred and George exchanged some sort of look and the latter pushed you so that your face was hovering right above the fumes wafting from the potion.

You sighed. “Still nothing.”

“You mean that this room doesn’t smell any different to you at all?”

You shook your head. “It smells like it does whenever you guys make me come up here. You know, boys. Not that it’s a pleasant smell, really.”

George and Fred caught each other’s eyes again and, for a moment, just stared at each other. You huffed and waited for this "twin moment” to pass. After six years, you were used to their silent communication, but that didn’t mean you had to like it. Finally, a slow smile spread over each of their faces.

“Excellent!” Fred slapped you on the back. “Really excellent!”

“What’s excellent?”

“Never you mind,” George said, with a firm hand against your back as he guided you toward the door. “We got what we wanted.”

“But what did you want? I didn’t–”

“Thank you, [Name]!” Fred said loudly, just as George shoved you out the door so hard that you stumbled several steps and only spun around in time to see each of them, wide smiles plastered on their faces, wave to you before they snapped the door shut.

You scowled at the wood for several moments, then rolled your eyes and shuffled off down stairs to the girls’ tower. “See you in the morning,“ you said to no one.

******

Breakfast the next day was not the usual affair. The twins might not care about getting to class on time, but you still retained some of the educational desires that you’d brought with you to Hogwarts before meeting with them. As it was, it wasn’t like them to not pop up as you were exiting through the portrait hole. You frowned behind yourself the entire way to the Great Hall and paid no attention as you grabbed the first seat available at the Gryffindor table. You arrived just in time to see the great cloud of owls rush in with the morning mail.

“M-Morning, [Name].” You looked up to see Fred and George’s brother yawning at you from across the table. You flashed him a smile before starting the task of finding something to eat for breakfast. A large bowl of porridge caught your eye. You reached for it.

“Good morning, Ron,” you answered absently. “Harry, Hermione.”

“…Hey, aren’t Fred and George normally with you?”

You blinked back toward Ron, who looked half-curious, half-relieved. You spooned some of the porridge into your bowl before responding:

“Usually…I haven’t seen them this morning, though. Do you need me to go back to the common room and see if they’re skiving off?”

“No!” Ron said, a little too hastily.

You glanced at him curiously and his ears turned red as he ducked underneath the table.

“The Quidditch match against Hufflepuff is coming up,” Harry informed you, his face morose.

“Ah,” was all you said to that.

You’d heard enough complaints from Fred and George to get into it with the fifth years. Besides, Umbridge was smirking down from the head table at that moment, and you were sure that, if you joined in complaining about their dismissal, she’d take it as an excuse to ban you from every match for the rest of your life. It didn’t much matter anyway. Almost two seconds later, Ron got up, his cheeks still flaming.

“We’re going to be late for Herbology,” he said.

Hermione and Harry glanced at each other (classes didn’t start for twenty minutes), but shrugged and followed him as he rushed out into the hall. You refused to meet Umbridge’s eyes and instead focused on buttering some toast. If Fred and George really were skiving off without you, it was going to be a long day. Double Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Snape’s detention. You’d see Lee in Umbridge’s class, but some comfort that was. It wasn’t as if you’d be allowed to talk to him.

“Good morning, [Name].”

Suddenly two bodies were on either side of you, pressing very close. You dropped your toast onto your plate and the knife fell onto the table with a clatter. Fred and George, however, did not move. Confused and admittedly slightly worried, you looked from one to other. They were positively beaming. You squirmed in an attempt to get them out of your personal space, but, when nothing happened, you were forced to wrench your arms free just so that you could get back to your toast.

“What took you two?” you asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Fred said faintly, “nothing.

“Uh-huh. Well, good thing you made it. You’re not going want to go to Potions on an empty stomach.”

“We’re not hungry,” said George.

This caught your attention. “Not hungry?” You looked toward George. Despite having been smiling when he first arrived, he was now pale-faced and refusing to meet your eyes. “What’s wrong you guys? Are you sick?”

“No…” This time it was Fred who spoke. As his voice drifted across your shoulder, you distinctly felt him grab a tendril of your hair and rub it between his fingers.

You flipped back around, warming all the way to your hairline. “What are you doing?”

Fred quickly dropped your hair, looking as if he wasn’t sure what he was doing either. As soon as this was done, someone’s finger brushed against the shell of your ear. With your face now resembling a tomato, you turned back to George.

He frowned at your expression and put his hands on the table. “Sorry.”

You said nothing. The three of you ate in silence (well, you ate; Fred and George just poked glumly at some sausages) until Fred broke the silence.

“So, there’s a Hogsmeade trip this weekend,” he twiddled with his fingers, “and we were wondering if…if…” He took a deep breath and said very quickly, “You wanted to go with us.”

You lifted your eyebrows and frowned at him. “I always go with you.”

“Well, yes…” Fred threw a hopeless look at George who gave a small twitch of his head. Fred took yet another deep breath. “But…differently this time.”

“Different how?”

At these words, Fred did something very strange: He blushed. As soon as he did, you realized what was going on. You tossed your second slice of toast onto your plate and balled your hands into fists.

“You’re making fun of me,” you said in a quavering voice. “I already apologized for missing Snape’s detention, but you’re still making fun of me.”

“What? No!” Fred and George looked at each other again, this time clearly saying “Abort, abort!” Still, they were both known to be good actors. You continued to stare at your golden plate as you waited for your furious tears to abate.

“[Name].”

You did not answer.

“[Name]? Come on, [Name], we didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Sure. Right,” you said, and were pleased to find that your voice had returned to its normal, level self.

“You know,” George said as he slung his arms over your shoulders. This time you dropped your toast entirely out of shock, rather than suddenly losing the feeling in your fingers. “You could be a bit more excited to see us.”

“I agree, George.” And now Fred’s arm was around you as well. If your bread wasn’t good and toasted before you got to it, it would be now due to its proximity to your burning face. “After all, we did do it for her.”

“Did what?” A sickly sweet voice from behind you said.

The three you of turned slowly on the spot to see Professor Umbridge, as toad-faced as ever, leering at you.

“None of your business,” Fred answered. His face had changed quite drastically to one of great loathing.

Umbridge did not so much as a flinch. You had to give her credit–you would run away screaming if one of the boys looked at you like that.

“Detention, Mister Weasley,” Umbridge said without looking at him and then continued in one breath. “May I remind you that you are already on thin ice after your little fight last week on the quidditch pitch? Do not press your luck!”

Fred and George looked mutinous, but did not, as you knew they wanted to, retort.

Her grin grew larger.“Now what were you just telling Miss [Last Name] that you did for her? Could this have something to do with all of those horrid illnesses that keep cropping up in my classes? Hm?”

“We don’t have anything to do with those,” George said. “Maybe they should go see Madam Pomphrey. Or you should just leave.”

“Yeah,” Fred agreed. “You said yourself last week our grades were so terrible you were going to expel us first chance you got. How could we make something that did anything that impressive?”

“Detention for you as well, Mister Weasley. And you, Miss [Last Name].”

“What?” Fred and George snapped and pushed you backward so that they were sitting protectively in front of you. You blinked and squirmed, trying to see Umbridge’s expression over the twins’ shoulders. “[Name] didn’t do anything!”

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” Umbridge sang. “After all, whatever the three of you are planning, I’m sure it will be against the rules. And double detention, for correcting me.”

With that she swaggered off. Despite yourself, you could feel angry tears stinging at the back of your eyes again. Snape was going to be livid. Fred and George did not seem to notice your mood as they made several mad grabs for the quickly disappearing breakfast foods. At least the run in with Umbridge had returned their appetites.

“Old cow,” George said.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, [Name], we’ll make sure–[Name]?”

“What?” you asked without looking at either of them. You felt George place his hand on your shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine!” you said, but your tone was too hysterical to fool them.

Normally detention wouldn’t be a big deal, but Fred and George were being horrible and Umbridge’s were always ten times as horrible as anything Snape could dream up–and you’d probably be doing double detention for him now, too. There was no way Umbridge would let you postpone her detention for another teacher’s.

“Are you really upset about detention?” Fred sounded like he was resisting the urge to laugh and failing. “Is it your time of the–”

“I’m going to Potions. You guys better come, too, or you’ll have another detention from Snape and we already have two more for Umbridge.” You stood up and swung your bag over your shoulder a little too forcefully.

Neither Fred nor George stood up. Their eyes flicked toward each other and then away again.

“What?” you asked, working to keep the shrill note out of your voice. “What now?”

“We’re not going to Potions today.”

“Of course you’re going to potions. Snape said if you skipped another he’d visit Dumbledore in person to talk about expelling you.”

“Some things are more important,” Fred said gravely, but he and George got to their feet.

“Like what?” Your blood ran cold. “Please don’t be planning anything. We’re already in so much trouble.”

“What’s life without a little trouble?” Fred asked.

“Exactly. I always say my day doesn’t feel quite complete without another detention under my belt.” George glowered toward the entrance hall. “Especially now that we don’t have quidditch practice.”

“But–”

“No buts, [Name],” Fred said jovially, again poking your nose as he winked. “All will be revealed in time. Mother always says that patience is a virtue.”

“You should talk,” you grumbled, but were too relieved by this sudden return to their normal attitudes that you didn’t press the subject.

Perhaps you celebrated a little too soon, though, because the next thing you knew, each boy had leaned in to plant a kiss on your cheek.

“See you after Potions, [Name],” they chorused, then exited the Great Hall and left you standing, quite alone, at the nearly vacant table.

You didn’t wave goodbye. It was almost as if they’d modified your memory instead of kissing you, your brain had gone so blank. just about everyone had left for class when another person walked over to your side.

“What,” said Katie Bell, her voice hushed with awe, “have you done to Fred and George?”

You opened and closed your mouth several times, then answered, “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

******

You looked for Fred and George your entire way to Potions class. You knew they’d said they wouldn’t be coming, but they’d said as much before so they could get a good scream out of you when they jumped out from behind one of the suits of armor. This suspicion only deepened when you entered the dungeons. The lack of natural light fed your expectation for a good scare. But when you made it to the classroom, neither of the twins was anywhere to be seen.

Who was there to be seen in the flickering torch light was Professor Snape, and you knew from the way his lips curled unpleasantly at the sight of you that you were in serious trouble. The rest of the Gryffindors edged back at your approach, Snape’s aura warning them that today was not a good day to move farther past his bad side.

“Miss [Last Name],” he said in his soft voice.

You looked back at him impassively–Fred and George may have scared you, but Severus Snape certainly did not.

“I heard from Professor Umbridge this morning,” he went on. “What is this I hear about you delaying my detention?”

“I’m not sure, sir.” Your voice quaked with suppressed rage.

“Well, since you will be skipping out on your detention yet again, I think we’ll add a day to mine. We can’t have you thinking that it’s all right to spear frog livers on unicorn horns and offer the class the toasted results, now can we?”

“No. Sir.”

“Hm…yes…” He regarded you calmly with his dark eyes. “And where are your two little cohorts this morning? I assume doing something with my ingredients that they swiped last night?”

You composed your face to look politely disinterested.

“Nothing? Well, let’s add one more day to your detentions and ten points from Gryffindor. Next time when I ask for information, you will give it to me.���

You had to bite your lip to keep from snapping back at him. Three days of detention for what the twins had done? It wasn’t fair!

Snape smirked, apparently able to tell what you were trying so hard not to say. “And you can tell your little friends they have detention further detentions with me as well.” He looked around the hallway. Students still milled about the edges, the Gryffindors looking either nervous or upset, the Slytherins looking highly amused. “Well?” Snape snapped. “What are you all doing out here still? In!”

He whooshed into the classroom and you, as well of the rest of the class, trooped inside and settled into their various tables. Yours, of course, was empty, which only served to remind you who you were angry with. You slammed your cauldron down onto your table (losing ten more points for your House) and listened to the class lecture with your blood boiling all the while.

By the time class was over, the rest of the Gryffindors were livid, not just with Snape, but also with you. You’d lost them nearly fifty points over the course of two hours between your supposed antics with Fred and George and inability to focus while making your Draught of Living Death. The resulting flaming pudding filled the room with dark blue smoke so noxious Snape was forced to end the class fifteen minutes early.

The rest of the class could be heard chattering as they made their way to their next class, but you took the first chance you could to ditch them and head down a passage that led closer to a door you could easily slip out of to make it to Care of Magical Creatures. You didn’t think you could handle anymore of the snarky comments coming from the Slytherins.

“That vile–Fred was right. I should have given the subject up when I had the chance,” you muttered as you stuffed your quill back in your bag before rounding another dark corner.

The way in front of you was pitch black, but you’d traipsed through it enough that your feet knew where they were going. For a few footsteps, it was quiet, but then:

“Normally I am right,” came a voice from behind one of the tapestries. You turned just in time to see Fred emerging from behind a particularly awful one portraying the beheading of a manticore. “But just what is it I’m right about this time?”

“What–but–“ The suddenness of his appearance had rendered you nearly speechless. “I thought you were skipping potions!”

“I did. Potions is over. You’re not being very observant today, [Name].”

“Oh, shut up.” You weren’t in the mood to be made to feel more stupid than you already did. With one last scowl at the boy, you walked briskly in the direction you’d been moving. “I have to get to Care of Magical Creatures.”

“I came to walk you there.” He fell into step beside you.

“Don’t bother.”

“[Name]? What’s wrong?”

“You’re wrong!” you said so fiercely that he took a step backward. “I’ve got four detentions today because of you, and you haven’t even been around!”

“Well–yes…But we didn’t really mean to do that.”

You could see the door pretending to be a wall drawing nearer. “Then what did you mean to do, Fred?”

He didn’t answer this question–verbally, at least. All you knew was that one moment, you nearly had your foot out the door, and the next, Fred had grabbed the back of your cloak and tugged you back into the darkness of the dungeon. You continued to try and move forward despite this, but he was too strong for you. He let go only when he had pressed you up against the cold stone wall.

“What–” you began, but weren’t able to finish before Fred’s lips covered yours.

Your eyes popped open at this, but he did not remove his mouth. What he did do was grab your hips and pull you closer.

Your automatic gasp of surprise did nothing but deepen the kiss. Sure, you got your oxygen, but you also got a tongue that was now wrestling with your own in your mouth. For one strange second, you contemplated protesting, but that was about when instinct kicked in. It was as if no time had passed between then and the moment the Beauxbatons boy had kissed you at the Yule Ball last year. With Fred’s hands still locked firmly around your waist, you lifted your own and tangled them into his hair. He moaned appreciatively at this development.

Two seconds later (or it might have been two years; it was hard to tell), Fred wrenched away. You immediately fell back against the wall, gulping for air and pressing your fingers to your mouth, hoping to find that it was still there. It was–though now rather bruised. For several seconds, the sound of heavy breathing was the only thing that filled the secret passageway. After awhile, Fred stood up and turned back to you.

“Been wanting to do that for awhile,” he said cheerfully.

You nodded faintly, glad that he, at least, couldn’t see the dark patches on your cheeks. The lack of torchlight made the corridor far too dark. A thousand questions flooded your mind–What was that? Why all of a sudden? How did he get to be that good a kisser?–which made it quite impossible for you to formulate a response.

“Have fun in Care of Magical Creatures.” Fred smiled and pointed toward the wall door.

You gulped and found your voice at last. “Um…yeah…”

“And [Name]?” His face appeared dangerously close yours again.

The warm patches on your face turned scorching hot. “…What?”

“If you see George, tell him we have to meet to compare notes this evening.”

“…Okay.”

“Good girl.” He winked once more, patted you on the head, then walked in the opposite direction. There was a distinct spring to his step and you could have sworn you heard him whistling.

If, when you arrived at Professor Hagrid’s hut, Katie was surprised to see you ten minutes late with your uniform rumpled and your hair mussed, she was kind enough not to say.

******

You half-expected one of the twins to pop up on your way back in to the castle for lunch, but neither of them did. Katie said nothing about their obvious absence, but continued to smirk in irritating fashion all the way across the grounds. After hurriedly gulping down some steak and kidney pie, you rushed up to the Tower to clean up. If Fred and George were in Defense Against the Dark Arts, you were still hoping that Fred wouldn’t say anything about your shared kiss and a lack of evidence would certainly help things.

But they weren’t in Umbridge’s class at all, nor were they at dinner. Madam Pince hadn’t seen them all day, which wasn’t too unusual considering the twins’ lack of educational pursuits, but neither had Hermione Granger. When you asked her, all she did was frown and say:

“I hope they aren’t off testing their products on first years again.”

You hurried away before she could ask you where their new base of operations was. But Fred and George weren’t there either, and you were forced to trudge up to Umbridge’s office without them. As you did, your heart sank. Perhaps Fred was so upset by the kiss you’d shared that he no longer wanted to speak to you.

You needn’t have worried. Both boys were lounging around in front of Umbridge’s door. It was amazing the effect that just spotting them had on you. Your heart sped up and your hands began to sweat–definitely not normal. Then again, you seemed to have the same effect on them. As you appeared, they sat up a little straighter, faces brightening immediately. Thankfully you were able to get your rapidly beating heart under control before they bounded to you.

“Hello, [Name].” They grinned identically.

“Hey.”

There must have been something in your tone that betrayed your frustration (disappointment?) because Fred and George frowned at each other. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you sighed. “Just bummed about detention. My hand only just healed up from the last one. Besides, classes were no fun with you. What were you guys doing all day?”

They exchanged that infuriating look that meant they were keeping something from you.

“We were…busy,” Fred said.

“Busy doing what?”

Fred grinned. “That’s sweet, [Name]. Were you worried about me?”

“No,” you said forcefully. “But I know you weren’t busy this morning. You decided to snog me after Potions.”

“You did?” George raised his eyebrows. Fred smiled in response and his brother clapped him on the back. “Congratulations!”

“No, not congratulations. Honestly, I don’t know what’s come over you, but if you don’t figure it out–”

“Hem, hem.”

There was no time to talk after that. Umbridge had you copying lines into your skin for the next two hours, and when finally you were released, you hastily made the excuse of homework to get yourself to the library.

But apparently not hastily enough because no sooner had you placed A Dragon Lover’s Guide to the Care and Keeping of Dangerous Beasts then did George appear by your side, smirking. You tried not to sound too disgruntled when you asked him what he wanted.

“You ran off quickly tonight,” he said.

You glared at him as you started the heading to Professor Hagrid’s paper. “Yeah, well. It’s been a weird day.”

“I know, right? The weirdest part is that you’d decide to let Fred snog you and not let me have a turn.”

“I didn’t decide anything!” you hissed, distinctly aware of the fact that Madam Pince was prowling the shelves behind you. Your protest was cut shot, however, as something sunk through to your fevered brain. “Wait. Since when did you want to kiss me?”

“Oh, it’s been coming for awhile now…” George had one hand propping up his cheek and the other walking across the table to yours. “We were quite jealous when the Beauxbatons boy beat us to you.”

You stared, too stunned to notice that he’d made it to his goal and was now holding your hand as his thumb stroked the top of it.

“You’re mad,” you choked out. “Absolutely mad. You and Fred finally invented something that drove you out of your mind.”

“That’s not very flattering toward you now, is it? Rather disappointing. Fred and I find you very pretty.”

“You’ve never found me pretty and you know it,” you said as you tugged your hand from his grasp. But the words came out as a whisper.

You’d long since given up on either of the twins ever falling for you. This was just great–a miserable end to an altogether miserable day. You stared into your lap and tried to remember what the subject of your essay was supposed to be. Something about chimeras, that was all you knew.

“Let me prove it to you,” George’s voice ghosted in your ear and then his lips met your ear.

You stiffened but surprised yourself by not pushing him away. When he did not receive the response that he wanted, George began to trail kisses down your neck.

“Stop,” you breathed.

He ignored you.

“Stop.”

This time he did as you asked, but when you turned your head to look at him, his face was right there. You swallowed whatever words you had been planning to say.

“I don’t think you want me to,” he whispered.

And then his lips were against yours. Whether it was due to the rather strong sense of déjà vu you were feeling or the general romantic atmosphere the library’s candlelight seemed to inspire in people, you reacted immediately. Your arms went around his neck and George stood, stooping still so that he could continue working his lips against yours. You groaned as his fingers found the edge of your shirt and began to sneak up your stomach.

“What are you doing?!”

The private moment was rudely interrupted when Madam Pince swooped down from above and began beating the pair of you over the head with an enormous book of spells. She did not listen to your stammered excuses (this was fair; you would not have either) and continued to shriek as you attempted to grab each of your things from the table before she rushed you out.

“This! Is! A! Library!” she screamed. “Never–in all my years–Out! OUT!”

She threw George’s book bag out unceremoniously after you with one last wordless cry of rage. It hit you squarely in the head, knocking you to the ground and sending ink bottles, quills, and brightly colored Nosebleed Nougats in every direction.

“Oww…” you moaned from the dusty floor. Something above your eye was stinging very, very badly.

“[Name]! Are you okay?” George was ignoring his scattered belongings entirely. He kneeled down to get a better look at you, and a moment later you wished he hadn’t. His face went white. “You’re bleeding!”

“I am?” Dazedly, you lifted one palm to your forehead. It came away crimson.

George did not answer; he was too busy scrambling through the wreckage around you. When he emerged, he was holding what you recognized to be one of his fake wands. It was now instead a handsome replica of Gryffindor’s sword.

“We should get you to the Hospital Wing.”

“No…I’m fine. I need to finish my homework…more detentions tomorrow…” You were finding it somewhat difficult to maintain your concentration on the conversation.

“Hospital Wing, [Name]. Now. Madam Pomfrey will fix you up right away and you can get back to your paper.”

He sounded so firm that you couldn’t find it in yourself to argue. You waited quietly as he gathered his things and then allowed him to heave you to your feet. You were halfway to the Hospital Wing when it happened. George froze, mid-step, and nearly caused you to fall crashing down the stairs.

“George?” you asked weakly. “What’s wrong?”

“I–I need to get back to the common room.”

“Now?”

“Yes. Right now.”

“But–”

“You can make it the rest of the way yourself, can’t you?” He did not wait for an answer. Before you could protest, George ducked underneath your arm and raced back down the way you came. It was several minutes before you could gather your thoughts and remember what you were supposed to be doing.

“…Sure. Why not?”

Odd, how often you spoke to thin air when the twins weren’t around.

******

You arrived in the common room an hour later, after having downed a blood replenisher potion and had Madam Pomfrey heal up your cut. Though you really hadn’t, at this point, expected them to be, your stomach still felt queasy when you noticed that Fred and George were not in their usual corner. It was still early enough in the evening that the common room was abuzz with laughter and conversation, but none of them came from the twins. Even Hermione Granger had gone, apparently feeling she didn’t have to stay up late that night to keep the two of them under control.

“[Name]?” Katie trotted up, looking absolutely aghast. “What happened to you? I thought we were supposed to work on our papers together!”

“Just a cut,” you muttered as you poked the bandage still tied firmly across your eyebrow. “Honestly, this is the least of what has happened to me today. Sorry about skipping out on you. I was trying to avoid…someone.”

”Did it work?”

You shook your head.

Katie pursed her lips together and guided you over to one of the armchairs near the cheerily crackling fire. “But it can’t have all be bad, can it?”

“What do you mean?” You settled into your chair and glanced halfheartedly at your bag. You really didn’t think you had it in you to do anymore homework that night.

“Well…” Katie leaned in, a conspiratorial gleam in her eye. “Fred and George have been awfully friendly today, haven’t they?”

“Yeah, well, they’re evil, aren’t they?” You scowled at the carpet. The stain from George’s first attempt at the Puking Pastilles was still evident in the thread.

“You can’t really think that. They’re your best friends!”

“I don’t think they are anymore, Katie,” you said heavily. “Not after today.”

“What happened? Did they…did one of them kiss you?”

You winced. There was really no harm in telling Katie. She’d always been able to keep your secrets. Still, if the twins were so ashamed they’d kissed you, it probably wasn’t a good idea to spread it around. It was an especially bad idea to tell one of their quidditch teammates. If Umbridge ever left, you’d hate for them to be laughingstock of the team. At last you gave her a hesitant nod, deciding that Katie would be more amused with you than them.

“Both, actually,” you said.

“I knew it!” she squealed, then dropped her voice to a whisper. “All the girls have been wondering how you did it. It was so sudden! Most of them think it was a love potion.”

“As if I’d ever…” you trailed off. A stream of images was running through your mind: a trembling first year, a pink potion, your sudden dismissal last night and George’s instance that you could still be of help, though he never did tell you how. You stood up quite suddenly. “That’s it! A love potion!”

“You mean you really gave them one? But I–”

“No, not me.” Your voice trembled with anger. “Them.”

You marched toward the boys’ stairs without another word. Katie called after you:

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back later, Katie,” you said as you wrenched the door open and started to stomp up the stairs.

You slammed the door to the boys’ dormitory open so hard that the walls shook. Several of Lee’s quidditch posters tore from the walls and drifted gently to the floor. You ignored this entirely; the blood was rushing through your ears so loudly that you could not hear anything but your own in frenzied thoughts.

Fred and George looked horror-struck. They were sitting again by their cauldron, dozens upon dozens of papers laying in piles around them, but they were paying them no heed. Their pale faces were trained directly on you as, breathing heavily, you strode toward them.

“Oh, hello, [Name],” George said in a would-be-causal voice. “What can we help you with?”

“If it’s nothing,” Fred added, “We’ll talk to you in the morning. We’re sort of in the middle of some–”

You interrupted him by ripping his parchment from his hands.

“You gave me a love potion!” you shouted.

Both boys jumped backward, an impressive feat considering they were sitting down.

“You gave me a love potion and you’ve been using me as an experiment all day long!”

Fred and George looked at each other. For one second, they simply stared. Then, as if on cue, they burst into fits of laughter.

“It isn’t funny!” you roared over their guffawing. “I’ve never been more embarrassed! Kissing George in the library–I won’t be allowed in there until after we’ve graduated!”

“Embarrassed!” Fred stopped rolling on the ground and looked indignant. “How could you be? We didn’t give you any love potion!”

“Yes, you did! The proof is right there!” You gestured wildly at what was left of the pearl pink potion sitting in the cauldron. Only a few cold dregs clung to the pewter now.

“We didn’t give you a love potion!” George said.

“We gave it to ourselves,” said Fred.

“Then why did I kiss you?” you demanded. “Why did I suddenly feel all nervous around the two of you? Why did I spend all day wishing you were around?”

“That’s not our fault. We asked you last night if the potion smelled a certain way to you. You said it didn’t, and so we decided to test it. We had to make sure we could make the potion properly before we started marketing it.”

“So you did test it on me!”

“Of course not! We wouldn’t want to embarrass you by making you fall in love with someone ridiculous.”

“Like Ron,” George said darkly. “We would never be able to forgive ourselves.”

“Then–”

”If you’d been paying any attention at all, [Name], you would know that Amortentia smells differently to everyone, according to what attracts them,” said Fred.

“Wait…it didn’t smell any different in here at all last night,” you said slowly.

George motioned for you to get a move on.

“But then…” You gaped at them.

Fred nodded. “You were already in love with us. That’s how we knew it wouldn’t upset you horribly if we started showing an interest.”

“But then…why were you so late coming to breakfast?” you asked. “You seemed fine for part of it.”

“We added some glumbumble essence, you know. To slow the effects. Casts less suspicion on the user,” George answered.

“Seems to make it a tad strong, though.” Fred shook his head as if trying to clear it. “We might have to rethink that.”

“And you said you did something for me,” you said. “If it wasn’t making me fall hopelessly in love with you, what was it? I’m not getting detention for that–you can just go do my second for me.”

“Well…” Fred looked at George, who nodded. Both crept up to you.

“Well, what?” you asked crossly. Your relief that you hadn’t been potion-ed had now faded away to annoyance about being tricked. “I don’t want any Puking Pastilles, so if that was all, you can just stop now.”

“That’s not it at all,” George said. “Remember when we asked you to Hogsmeade this morning?”

“Distinctly. Thank you so much for making fun me.”

“[Name], you dolt!” Fred said. “We were trying to ask you out! That’s what we did for you. We took the potion and got over our nerves so we could! We’ve been trying ever since that boy asked you to ball last year.”

“As nice as that is, I don’t really want to date anyone that is being forced to like me. Thanks bunches, though.”

“[Name], do you even know what that potion smells like to us?”

“Gun powder?” A testy note had grown in your voice. It was late; all you wanted to do was go to bed and forget this day ever happened. As if the twins would ever stop talking about it. “Whatever it is you’ve decided to put in your Skiving Snack Boxes?”

“Close,” said George. He looked to Fred, who continued in a much softer voice:

“But it also smells like you.”

“We actually do like you, [Name],” George said. “A lot.”

“What?” You looked from one to the other. You had never seen them so solemn. “Really?”

“I don’t think she believes us, George.”

“Then I think we’ll have to convince her, Fred.”

They stepped toward you, each taking a hand. “No, wait!” Your protest was stillborn. They tugged you onto their bed. With one wave of a wand, the curtains drew shut and both Fred and George had latched on to your neck.

Twenty minutes later and you were quite certain Amortentia had ever been used to quite as wonderful a purpose ever before. But something was still bothering you:

“But wait…if you were already in love with me, how do you know if the potion actually works?”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” George answered. “We thought of a plan ages ago.”

“Are you sure I shouldn’t be worried?”

“Of course,” Fred said. “After all, it’s about time our dear little brother noticed a certain Miss Lavender Brown…”

[thatmooncake]

Ooh here are some I really like (in no particular order):

Dead Mall Dare by muzzlemouths - you get to explore an abandoned mall, Sun and Moon are going through a rough patch and can’t seem to decide whether to keep you or finish you off, there’s 70s slang and the most beautiful chase scene when a parrot steals your hat. The way the history between Sun and Moon (the mall’s mascots - or at least they were before disaster struck) is explored is so much fun, I could read about them for days. I love it!

The Selkie search by starswimmingart - you’re a selkie which is an instant win in my book, Sun and Moon are ocean exploration bots (and their bickering is to DIE for). Y/n is loveably stubborn and there’s a really fun dynamic between the three, I love the way it’s set up with all three main characters in a bit of a pickle for different reasons before they come face to face!

Copper Cogs Rusted Through by paper-lilypie - post-fire AU where you go digging for parts in the scrapyard you work at part time and come home with a broken daycare attendant you get to slowly put back together - and then not soon after being part-repaired and powered back on they proceed to terrorise you and your siblings. I love the way Sun and Moon and y/n slowly come to understand one another and make compromises in this. There’s a scene that takes place where Moon goes exploring and y/n comes to find him that I still think about all the time. Love it love it!

Solar Lunacy by bamsara - you get a job at the pizzaplex as a Jack of all trades employee and slowly get to know the Glamrocks and the daycare attendant (along with all the other robotic residents of the plex) while performing your duties there. The virus is out in full force here and Moon is a delightful (and dangerous) gremlin, and meanwhile Sun is a master of deflection because he’s trying to preserve what little he has left since the virus took hold - I love all of the interactions in this so much, I love the way y/n slowly gets to know all of the other characters, it’s just so much fun to read!

Weal and woe by pure-plum - a fantasy AU where you’re an adventurer who picks up an interesting little trinket on your travels, then disaster strikes in the night, and you’re met by Eclipse who comes to your aid in a moment of need, forming an incredibly ominous pact with you. As with a few of the fics in this list I haven’t read all the way through but I’m super intrigued by the fantasy setup and the way the tense relationship between the main characters develops!

Two choices by thelonereni - the most salty y/n I’ve ever read wakes up and chooses violence when they change their job role to a job working in the daycare and come face to face with Sun who is not keen on rulebreakers or tardiness or really any sort of human assistance for the most part. I really enjoy watching them mess with each other, the chaos is delightful!

Holler if you need us by castercassette - Cowboy AU my beloved! So in this one you’re the short-tempered sheriff of Fazed Bear who can’t seem to catch a break since the mysterious disappearances started in your small town, and Sun and Moon are a pair of delightful troublemaking outlaws - and wacky hijinks ensue! (But it wasn’t always this way.) The pacing in this is seriously so good whether a scene is tense and introspective or fast-paced and action-packed, it’s a lot of fun!

Double toil and trouble by naffeclipse - I’m absolutely crazy for the concept of Sun and Moon as witches familiars. In this one essentially no good deed goes unpunished for poor witch y/n, but you get to make a demonic pact and gain the most awesome pair of witches’ cats imaginable (they shapeshift which is yet another bonus in my opinion!). The transitions between scenes are so good in this and Sun and Moon are so beautifully catlike (they even go hunting for you, how neat is that?).

Our orbit is elliptical by sycopomp and madame-mongoose - Sun is manipulative and passive-aggressive and picks on you on your first day because he doesn’t see the need for a human daycare assistant and wants to run the daycare all by himself. Moon isn’t much better. Y/n needs a hug. I really enjoy the dynamic between them even though it’s early days. I want to see more!

There are also a million more fics I have to read/catch up on but I definitely love these! (Hoping to check out some more on this list, I have a huge list of fics I want to read when I get a chance)!

What DCA fic(s) do you go absolutely feral for and highly recommend?

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Can’t resist a beautiful Queen Anne, and this 1880 beauty in Lexington, Missouri is brick! I don’t think I’ve ever seen a brick one. Take a look at this beautifully preserved girl. 

The first thing I noticed, aside from the wood, is that it’s not wallpapered. That’s a plus. Beautiful stained glass in the dining room. 

Original fireplaces are everywhere. 

Cute shower into a toile powder room.

Hate the kitchen remodel. They left the original wood, matched the wood blinds to it, and put in contemporary pickled wood cabinets. What were they thinking?

At least the pantry is intact.

Love the curved walls. 

The master has a turret nook. 

Nice bath with thick older fixtures.

They’re using this bedroom as a family room. Love the transom windows over the doors up here. 

Large bedrooms- that grandfather clock looks small in here. There’s an en suite, too, and the medicine cabinet is original.

There appears to be a bathroom in the attic. You can see this round window from the street.

Pretty grounds.

Looks like they put up a few poles in the basement, but 2 of them don’t look like they’re touching anything. Hmmm.

https://www.oldhousedreams.com/2022/03/23/c-1880-queen-anne-in-lexington-mo/

[my-deer-history]

When was the last time Henry Laurens saw John Laurens in person?

19 August 1780.

Philadelphia 13th Augt. 1780.

Embark'd on the Brigt. Mercury-Packet, Wm. Pickles Commandr_

Colo. J. Laurens accompanied me down the Delaware to Port Penn

Extract from Henry Laurens' journal, written while imprisoned in the Tower of London

John sailed with his father until 19 August, where he disembarked - he was still on parole and confined to Pennsylvania, so he could not travel any further with his father.

the 15th day after I parted [with you at Reeds] Island, that is to say on the 3rd Inst. the little Mercury [was chased &] captured by Capt George Keppel Commander of the Frig[ate above] mentioned

Henry Laurens to John Laurens, 14 September 1780

Henry was captured by the British on his way to Europe and imprisoned in the Tower of London, to be released only in April 1782 - long after John had returned to America from his diplomatic mission to France. Henry was recuperating in England from the extreme physical toil of his imprisonment when he got news of John's death.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Hello! If this prompt is to your liking - something along the Ladyhawke plot? Basically, during the day LWJ is turned into an animal while WWX is human, and in the night returns to human but then WWX is turned into an animal :) Or, for simplicity’s sake, I‘d just like to see LWJ turned into a bunny XD attempting to communicate with WWX who is oblivious, as you’d expect. Thank you! Your writing is amazing and I’m so pleased to read it always.

The f‎irst thing Wei Wuxian was aware of in his new life, before he ever recalled his name or recovered his cultivation, was the feeling of safety and security that came from being held in the palms of two hands, strong but soft.

Wei Wuxian had been the last and smallest of a too-large litter, causing his mother to bare her teeth at him and chase him away no matter how pitifully he cried. By the laws of nature, he should have died, unloved, but even before he remembered his past deeds he was never one to be bound by those laws. He was lucky: the soft hands came for him then, lifting him high off the ground, letting him shiver against a warm breast and even faithfully feeding him milk from a hollow reed every time he was hungry.

After some time, the haze of infancy cleared from his eyes and, for the first time, the soft hands offered him a leaf instead of milk. It was a good leaf, too. Crunchy and firm, unmarred by any insect bites and still wet from the morning dew.

Wei Wuxian gnawed on it, quite content, and reached up with his left hindleg to lazily scratch at his long floppy ear. For a rabbit, this was the very definition‎ of paradise.

Not bad at all, he thought to himself, quite smug, and not for the first time considered himself rather lucky in comparison to his stronger brothers and sisters, who were probably being taught to forage even now. They might have a mother, but Wei Wuxian has a pair of soft hands framed by long, sweeping white sleeves, and he thought that he did quite well out the bargain.

With such thoughts, he was naturally reluctant to be left behind. He followed those hands on their daily rounds, hopping‎ down dabbled forest pathways made of stone and painstakingly climbing steps to sit in cold rooms that smelt of sandalwood while the soft hands plucked at the strings of a guqin. He wouldn't hold himself back, either: he would nuzzle a kneeling thigh or try to clamber onto the man's belly to sleep, and he was never rejected. Even when he couldn't keep up, he shamelessly cried until the hands came and gathered him up close, letting him rest his sable head against the stark white robes and listen to the comforting sound of a strong heartbeat.

All things considered, Wei Wuxian was quite pleased with his life, a state of affairs that lasted right up until the first time the hands wrapped up the guqin in a white cloth, drew an ice-pale sword from its sheath and took to the air, leaving Wei Wuxian behind, abandoned and bereft.

Obviously, this was absolutely intolerable.

Wei Wuxian settled himself down on the bed and began loudly crying. Other pairs of hands, smaller ones that sometimes brought treats, sought to comfort him‎, but he remained steadfast in his misery, lying prone on his side and weeping until he fell asleep and then waking up and starting all over again.

"He missed you a lot," the white-clad ‎child murmured anxiously to the soft hands when they return a few endless days later. "He wouldn't even eat - I even tried offering him some of the pickled cabbage he's always stealing from your table, but he wouldn't take it. Forgive me, Hanguang-Jun -"

"Forgiven."

Something about that voice echoed in his mind as familiar, but Wei Wuxian was distracted by picking himself up and throwing himself at his pair of soft hands at once, unable to hold a grudge and act indifferent the way he'd schemed he would, taking a mighty leap that did not even begin to trouble his pillar of stability though it did make the child giggle.

"I told you he missed you!"

"En."

The soft hands caressed Wei Wuxian quietly, then - as if familiar with the pain of separation, the torture of longing for what is not there - did not put him down. Instead, they brought close a dish of leaves and grasses for him to eat while still pressed up close to that broad chest, his ears full of that strong heartbeat that showed he was still alive, warmed by the bright golden core within.

Wei Wuxian, as always, forgot his woes, and was happy.

He was full, he was warm, tucked in safely into the collar of long white robes embroidered with clouds‎, and he could think of nothing at all that might disturb his joy.

That state of affairs lasted for about an hour, until another voice, also familiar but less so, said, "I am pleased that you have returned safely, Wangji."

Wei Wuxian opened his eyes, startled out of his planned nap.

Wangji? Lan Wangji - Lan-er-gongzi - Lan Zhan -

White robes, like mourning; clouds, to signify the main family; soft hands, a gentle voice, upright manner, the guqin -

His soft hands were Lan Wangji!

‎Wei Wuxian remembered, suddenly, all of his past life of toil and hardship - his carefree youth at Yunmeng, his brief time at the Cloud Recesses, his wide broad road turning narrow and dark -

He dismissed the latter part as unimportant.

"It seems your pet rabbit had also missed you," Lan Xichen, now recognizable, added, his voice slightly mischievous in a way that was familiar as well.

"En," Lan Wangji replied, calm as ever.

Wei Wuxian began cackling at once, little huffing rabbit sounds.

Who would think, he thought to himself gleefully as he raised up his head to take a look, that Lan Wangji, of all people, would break the rules of his sect to adopt ‎-

To adopt -

A rabbit.

A rabbit!

He was a rabbit! Wei Wuxian, Wei Ying, Yiling Patriarch, demonic cultivator -

He was the rabbit Lan Wangji had broken his sect's rules to adopt!

Wei Wuxian's head lolled back, stunned into a daze that did not abate even when Lan Wangji gently caressed his small head with his soft hands.

Of course Lan Wangji would adopt a demonic cultivator rabbit, he thought. That would just be his luck, breaking his precious rules for me of all people. But what did I do wrong to be reborn as an animal?

Well, actually, he'd done rather a few things wrong, come to think about it. And even if he was a rabbit, he'd had the best possible‎ life as one - he barely had to twitch his nose for a half dozen Lan disciples, not to mention the great Hanguang-jun himself, to scurry over to tend to his every need, so clearly the heavens weren’t intending on punishing him that badly.

Not to mention, he ‎seemed to still have his spiritual awareness - something of a new development, in fact, as he'd only noticed Lan Wangji's golden core for the first time today.

Of course, that didn't really matter. What use was spiritual awareness to a rabbit? All it meant was that he was now a yao, capable of cultivating and, if he turned evil, to be a target for a night hunt led by righteous cultivators.

He'd had quite enough of tha‎t in his last lifetime, thank you.

No, there was no benefit, except maybe the possibility of one day cultivating enough to form a beast core and transform into a human being -

Hm.

"Are you sure you will head out again so soon?" Lan Xichen asked. "You are still barely recovered from your injuries; for you to go out alone could be dangerous -"

Wait, what? Lan Wangji? Injured? Alone?

Absolutely unacceptable!

Clearly Wei Wuxian was going to need to get on that yao cultivation business sooner rather than later. Someone needed to take care of Lan Wangji, if he wasn’t willing to do it himself – and why not him?

After all, Lan Wangji was his pet human.

[petitmonde]

Do you have seasonal traditions? Not like related to holidays necessarily, just the season. What kind of activities do you do to make it feel like it's autumn/spring?

Well, I used to have a lot more back when I lived in the boonies. A lot of the traditions/activities revolved around the garden. Nowadays it's summer meaning cold booze, winter cozying up with a warm cup of cocoa or mulled wine.

Spring: toiling the soil, planting seeds, making the greenhouse ready and other things to get the garden in shape after a long winter. It's a whole lot of getting rid of the old and preparing for the new.

Summer: enjoying the sweet summer fruits that are ripe. Plucking berries and preserving them as jam or freezing them down for the winter. A lot of days spent outside just because you could. It's exciting waiting for the new potatoes to be ready to eat.

Autumn: harvest. Getting all of those hardy crops into the house, and making sure they're stored correctly. I distinctly remember drying onions and trying them up. It's also time to pickle whatever you can pickle. I still buy beets to pickle them around November or so, because it's just not the same getting ones that are made in a factory.

Winter: trying not to freeze too much. Making all those really comforting dishes that warm you right up. Baking way too many cookies for Christmas. You never know when the chance hits that you can feed some to guests, or give them as gifts. The whole eating many of the same dishes as we do every year. Also oranges. So many fkin oranges. Maybe stuffing a couple with cloves for the great smell it leaves.

My own little thing: I celebrate winter solstice on the 21st of December by lighting candles and incense, letting the flames be my only source of light for a couple hours for the longest night. It feels spiritual, even though I'm by no means religious.