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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

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Double Heart | Chapter Nineteen ~ Haldir

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Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 3722

Warnings: None

A/n I’m back bay-beeeee!!! Thank you for your patience while I took a few weeks off to finish school. I did something kinda stupid and booked a full semester of classes for the summer session *pained smile* and asked for more shifts at work *pained smile*. So! In light of this ~questionable~ choice, I'm changing my update schedule. Updates will now come for sure once a week on Wednesdays, with the occasional bonus chapter. Thanks for understanding, and happy reading!

I leave Cosima at her door.

I’m surprised by how much of my willpower it takes to walk away.

Now that I know what it’s like to hold her close, to feel her lips on mine, to hear her say that she loves me, I find it incredibly difficult to distance myself. I want more of her. I want to jump head-first into the ocean that is Cosima and allow myself to drown.

Though, I suppose, that is exactly what I am doing. Because loving her will be the death of me.

But denying the need to be with her is an even worse fate. And, by the way she seems to wholeheartedly return my affections, she feels the same.

Regardless, I have yet to even officially ask if I can court her — I have no right to invite myself into her chambers, especially not for the night. So, I return to my room. Thankfully, Rumil is still out. He adores Cosima almost as much as I do, but I guarantee he will not be pleased by the development in our relationship—understandably. Choosing to bind myself to a mortal means something difficult for my family. I will have to tell them soon, but not tonight. I don’t want to tarnish the euphoria my time with Cosima has given me.

I fall into bed.

I should be exhausted. After all, deciding to stop fighting reason and giving in to what I’ve been resisting for so long is quite tiring.

But every time I close my eyes, I remember Cosima looking up at me, dazed and adoring, the way her lips searched after mine, the way she looked when I told her how I felt.

It makes for quite a restless night.

{***}

My day seems endless. Every meeting, every drill, every task, my mind is consumed with Cosima. Now that I know I can hold her, kiss her, openly declare my affections, that is all I want to do. With every free moment in my day, I fight the urge to seek her out. We have plans to meet for dinner, and I anchor myself in that — I will see her then.

After a long day of agony, the time for dinner arrives.

When I hear the knock on my open door, I have to force myself not to run across the room. I take a deep breath when I reach the door, trying to push myself into my usual state of self-assurance. Once I’ve got myself under control, I open the door.

And the assurance vanishes.

Cosima steps into my room, beautiful and lovely as ever, wearing for the first time in all that I’ve known her, a shy smile. I understand it. Though we have been alone a thousand times before, and been friends for what feels like ages, after last night, everything feels new, unsure.

I close the door behind her.

“How was your day,” she asks, fiddling with her fingers.

I smile, trying to act normal. “It was alright.” I step forward, as close to her as I dare. The brilliant light of the sunset dances across her hair and I can’t help reaching up a hand to trace over the waves. “I admit though, I found myself quite distracted.”

She grins and quirks an eyebrow, already seeming much more like herself. “Would you like to tell me why?”

I dip my head closer to hers. “I’d wager you can guess.”

I press my lips to hers, all at once feeling the elation that comes with doing so and the anxiety that she will push me away and ask what in the Valar I think I’m doing. For all I know, last night could have been a fluke. She could have changed her mind.

But her lips move against mine and her hands find the back of my neck, holding me in place, and my worry vanishes. It is replaced by a new feeling, one that clouds my brain and blocks out everything around me except for her.

Cosima pulls away and rests her forehead against mine, looking up at me with wide, vulnerable eyes. “So you haven’t changed your mind?”

Oh, how alike we are. I take her hand, wrapping my other around her waist. It feels so strange to interact with someone like this. Not strange in a bad way—not at all—but I have spent my entire life keeping my distance from others. Never in over three thousand years have I wanted to take someone in my arms and hold them as close to me as possible. I squeeze the hand in mine. “No, I have not. And I won’t change my mind. I meant what I said last night. I choose you today and I will choose you for the rest of my life.”

She lets out a shuddering breath, her hand tensing on my shoulder. “I shouldn’t let you.”

Despite the concern I feel for her—I can see that my words have caused her a measure of stress—my lips quirk in a smile. “Cosima, I am fully grown and capable of making my own choices, just as you are. Though you can send me away if you wish—that is your right—it would not stop me from loving you.”

She sighs somewhat sadly, but she raises on her toes and kisses me again. “Well, you’ve got me completely besotted, so congratulations.”

I laugh, relieved to hear the words and to see that the sadness has left her eyes. I bury my face in her neck, hugging her tightly. “I guess that’s good to hear.”

She jabs her elbow into my ribs, presumably at my sarcasm, which only makes me laugh harder. She pushes against my chest, raising up for another kiss, when a knock sounds through the room.

We freeze.

Thank Valar I shut the door.

As if agreeing to an unspoken plan, Cosima hurries to sit at the small table where the dinner plates I have for us are set. Her presence shouldn’t be anything to cause alarm—we are well-known friends—though, I suppose, we have been avoiding each other for months.

I hold back a sigh. Yes, her presence probably will raise an eyebrow or two.

Once she’s settled, I roll back my shoulders and assume a neutral expression, opening my door.

It’s Orophin and Lavandil.

I smile, moving out of the way so they can enter, and welcome them in.

“Cosima.” Orophin falters upon noticing her presence.

She smiles and waves, standing from the table and joining us in the center of the room. “Hey, what’s up?”

Orophin glances between my human companion and myself. “I…” He furrows his eyebrows, obviously trying to draw a connection between Cosima, the closed door, and my hopefully neutral expression. I don’t think he gets there. “I am glad to see the two of you have reconciled,” he says finally, nodding at us both.

Lavandil, on the other hand, has her eyes blown wide. She stares pointedly at Cosima, looking like it’s taking all the effort in the world not to run over to her and demand an explanation. Cosima’s stoicism is not as practiced as mine, and she breaks eye contact under Lavandil’s stare, looking at the ceiling instead.

We’ll have to work on that later.

“What brings you here,” I ask, hoping to redirect the focus.

My question has an unintended effect. Orophin and Lavandil exchange glances, a weight seeming to fall on both of their shoulders.

Orophin clasps his hands behind his back, looking me square in the eye. He takes a deep breath. “I am staying in Imladris.”

Cosima makes an audible intake of breath.

I don’t move.

Orophin continues, hurrying to explain himself. “I know this seems sudden, but the thought has weighed on my mind for a while.”

Again, I say nothing.

My mind runs through a million things at once, analyzing previous conversations, expressions, looking for any clue that this was coming. In hindsight, there are many. How could I have missed the signs?

Orophin takes a step forward. “Brother, it…it is getting more dangerous in this world by the day. I understand my duty to my people but I will not leave Lavandil unprotected.”

I can respect that.

My eyes involuntarily turn to Cosima.

I can understand that.

There is nothing in this world that could stop me from doing all that I can to keep her safe.

I nod slowly, turning my gaze back to my brother and his love. “You are released from your duties until you decide to reclaim them. I wish you both all the happiness in the world.”

Orophin’s shoulders sag, his face breaking into an expression of relief. “Thank you, Haldir.”

Lavandil’s eyes shine and she steps forward, giving me a pleading look. “I’m sorry.”

Voices overlap as Orophin, Cosima, and I all hurry to reassure her that she has nothing to be sorry for. Lavandil smiles, still teary-eyed, though thankfully the guilt has faded from her face. She turns to Cosima, eyes softening. “I will miss you, mellon nîn.”

I watch Cosima closely. She blinks rapidly and, when she speaks, her voice is scratchy with emotion. “I’ll miss you, too.”

{***}

Orophin and Lavandil stay for dinner. The four of us talk, laugh, and carefully avoid the subjects of our impending departure from each other. When I shut the door behind them, a heavy realization make me want to slump my shoulders.

I will miss my brother.

Of course I am happy for him — he will no longer be separated from his love — but it is still sad to leave him behind, especially as this world becomes more and more perilous. Here in Imladris, he will be out of my control. I won’t be able to keep him safe.

I turn to Cosima, noticing the tracks of tears that run down her cheeks. I sigh, holding a hand out to her which she takes readily.

I pull her into a hug and rest my cheek against the top of her head. “Are you okay?”

She laughs without humor, burying her face in my chest. “Are you?”

I ignore the question. “I know you and Lavandil have become close.”

Cosima sighs, nodding. “I don’t think I actually ever considered that we would be leaving here. All the friendships I’ve made, all the things I’ve come to love about Imladris…I’m going to be leaving it all behind. It’s just,” she sighs again, her arms tightening around my back. “I don’t remember my home, but Imladris has become what I think a home would be.”

I purse my lips, feeling guilty. I didn’t consider how all this would affect her, though, now that I think about it, it is sure to. “Lavandil and Orophin will visit. I am even sure you will see Elrond again before long. And, should you desire it, Lothlórien will be your home. My people will be yours, they will welcome you and care for you as their own. It will become your world as much as it is mine.”

She exhales shakily and smiles up at me, giving me a look of adoration that takes my breath away. I bring a hand to her face, catching the tears before they can run into her smile.

“Thank you,” she breathes. She kisses me quickly on the lips before pulling away, wiping her tears and rolling her eyes. “Come on, I’ll stop crying so we can finish dinner.”

I laugh and follow her back to the table.

{***}

The next morning, I meet Cosima at her door. She smiles up at me, eyes still glazed slightly with sleep. She steps back, pulling the door with her to allow room for me to enter. Upon seeing the guest I’ve brought with me, her eyes widen.

“Good morning, Cosima,” I greet swiftly, knowing she won’t be pleased with my ambush.

Predictably, she purses her lips together, crosses her arms over her chest, and raises an eyebrow in my direction. “I told you, I will not be wearing that bulky, hot armor for the trip. There’s no need to bring a seamstress to measure me.”

At my side, Galina the seamstress shifts uncertainly.

I fix my gaze on Cosima, clasping my hands behind my back. “And I told you that you will be traveling as a member of my company, and as a member of my company, you are required to adhere to safety measures that I, the commander, deem fit.”

I’m used to glares.

Enemies, wardens, my brothers when they were children — all have given me scathing looks before, and it never bothered me. But the fire behind Cosima’s eyes puts all that experience to shame.

I remind myself to stand my ground.

Regardless of her personal feelings towards the armor, it will keep her safe. And I’m not even putting her in that much — just chainmail over her neck, arms, and torso. Alexander will be required to wear it as well.

She knows this of course, and still isn’t pleased.

But she throws her arms out to the side, allowing the seamstress to do her work. She stares me down the whole time, eyes narrowed, chin raised, face impassable.

Is this what I look like?

Galina takes the measurements and leaves quickly, off to Alexander’s chambers and then to the armory. I talked to Alexander earlier and he has no qualms with wearing the armor, so why is Cosima putting up such a fight?

The door closes behind Galina, and Cosima crosses her arms over her chest. “One of these days, I’m going to ambush you, see how you like it,” she mutters, continuing to glare at me.

I give her a stern look. “You know my reasoning and I will not be moved on this. In Imladris or Lothlórien it is different, but on the road, I am in charge of ensuring the safety of every member of my company. Were you anyone else, I would still insist on the armor — no one travels without it. You can imagine I am doubly focused on safeguarding the woman I love.”

Her expression softens. She smiles somewhat begrudgingly. “I guess I can’t fault you for that.”

I return her smile and take a step in her direction, pleased to be on good terms again.

The eyebrow shoots back up and her eyes narrow once more.

I freeze mid-step.

“But I can fault you for showing up so early in the morning with Galina without a minute of warning! I’m still in my pajamas!”

I raise an eyebrow to match hers. “I highly doubt you would have gone to the seamstress willingly.”

She huffs. “Maybe I would had I known the alternative was a sneak attack.” But despite her words, the playfulness returns to her eyes. She extends a hand in my direction. I close the distance between us, taking the offering gladly.

I decide to push my luck. “I must admit, I find the sight of you in your pajamas quite endearing.”

Cosima snorts, laying her head against my chest. “Yeah, well get ready to be endeared for three weeks straight. I’m only wearing old tunics on the road — I’m not risking ruining any of the new things from Lavandil.” A pause, and she sighs. She moves her head back so she can see me. “What are we going to do on the road?”

I furrow my eyebrows. “I don’t follow your meaning.”

“Are we going to tell your brothers,” she clarifies, shrugging her shoulders, “or are we going to pretend that we haven’t…” She huffs, searching for her words, “changed the nature of our relationship?”

“Right.” I take a deep breath.

I dread telling my brothers. While I am elated at finally being with Cosima, I know my brothers are likely to focus less on my happiness and more on my impending demise. I’m the one in love, and I struggled for months with the reality of my choice. Regardless, it is important to tell them soon. Hiding it would only make it worse. “I would prefer to tell them before we leave Imladris. I don’t want to waste any time with you pretending we’re not together, especially since they’re going to find out eventually, anyway.”

She nods, looking up at me in understanding. “Whenever you’re ready. I suppose we’ll have to tell Alex, too.”

I fight the urge to grimace.

She sees right through it. She laughs, pushing against my chest. “He’s gotten so much better and you know it.”

“True,” I allow. Learning Sindarin and researching his condition have done wanders for his personally — I would say the man is nearly tolerable by now.

Of course, that is likely to change on the road when he is away from his books and under my command.

“Oh, and once we tell your brothers, I want to tell Lavandil, too,” Cosima reminds me. “She’s been rooting for us.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Rooting for us? I didn’t even know she was aware of our mutual interest.”

Cosima grins guiltily. “You may have come up in conversation once or twice.”

I roll my eyes, trying to cover up how pleased I am. “Well, there’s no sense in delaying it. I had planned to dine with my brothers after training tonight. Would you like to join us? We can tell them then.”

She nods, taking a deep breath. “Sounds good. Oh, and I guess Baranor will need a heads up as well.” She scrunches up her eyebrows. “Gosh, that’s a lot of telling. Can’t we just send out a newsletter?”

I laugh, pulling her back against my chest. “If only it were that easy.”

{***}

My brothers and I dine in Cosima’s chambers. Her seating area is larger, the table as well, and I’d rather tell them in the privacy of her room than in the dining hall where anyone could react.

Rumil suspects.

From the moment I asked him to meet in Cosima’s room, suspicion entered his eyes. He had passed through the doorway warily, looking as if he expected some sort of ambush. When he locked eyes with Cosima, he had given her a meaningful, almost pleading look.

Orophin, on the other hand, walks in hesitantly, shooting nerves glances towards Rumil, and I wonder how Rumil took the news of Orophin deciding to stay in Imladris. By the tension I notice between them, it didn’t go exceedingly well.

I feel a bout of anxiety for my youngest brother.

The four of us gather in the seating area. Cosima babbles nervously, telling my brothers every minute detail of her day. They appear politely interested, but I know by the distant looks in both of their eyes that they are lost in their own worries.

No sense in dragging this out.

I can tell I surprise everyone when I take the spot on the couch next to Cosima rather than the empty armchair. My brothers freeze, exchanging a look. Cosima glances up at me, her eyes wide and nervous.

I take a deep breath. “Orophin, Rumil, I suspect you have been aware of my feelings for Cosima for quite some time. I discovered recently that she returns them, and we have committed ourselves to each other.”

Silence.

Rumil clenches his jaw. “Have you bonded?”

“No—“

“—then there is still time!”

“But I intend to,” I finish, hating the way my youngest brother visibly wilts at my words.

With wide eyes, Orophin glances between myself and Cosima. “My friend, you know I mean no offense, but—” he shakes his head, turning his whole focus to me. “Haldir you cannot tie yourself to a human. You will die.”

Cosima sucks in a sharp breath, eyes falling to the ground.

I take her hand in mine, keeping my gaze steady on my brother. “I know.”

“Then you are a fool!” Rumil’s shout shocks us all with its volume. He stands and grips the back of the chair, looking ill.

Orophin groans, resting his elbow on his knee and bringing a hand to rub at his temple. “You have to know how ridiculous this is. There are a thousand other elleth out there. Save your eternity and use it to find one you could love.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Could you leave Lavandil behind and search for another?”

Orophin grits his teeth. “That’s different. Our lives are compatible.”

“Are they? Though you are both eldar, your relationship is not without sacrifice. For years, the two of you sacrificed being with each other to continue your usual lives. Now, you’re sacrificing your home, your career, and your family because your love is worth it. Allow me the dignity to choose my own sacrifice.”

Orophin’s breath catches in his throat. His pained face falls into hopelessness, and he shrugs his shoulders. “So we are to resign ourselves to a handful of years left with you?”

In my hand, Cosima’s begins to shake.

I bring her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss on its back. I address my brothers once more. “I have had over three thousand years in this world. I count myself blessed to spend the remainder of those days, however long they may be, in the company of those I love.”

Orophin’s mouth goes slack. He looks between Cosima and myself, and, vaguely, I wonder what sort of picture we paint. An elf and a human.

“I cannot say that I am not saddened by your choice, nor that I understand it. But if it has to be a human, then I am glad it is you, Cosima.” Orophin, Valar bless him, tries for a smile in Cosima’s direction. It’s strained and sad, but it’s an effort — one I am very thankful for.

Rumil hasn’t moved.

Cosima looks to him, worry in her eyes, and I remember how close she and my brother are. Right from the start, he has been one of her closest friends, and it must hurt her to be at odds with him, to know that something she can’t control is causing him pain.

When she speaks, her voice is fragile, vulnerable. “Rumil?”

He continues to grip the back of the chair and looks to the ground, avoiding our eyes. He grits his teeth. “Stay away from me, both of you.”

And he storms out of the room.

A/n Likes, comments, and reblogs are always cherished <3 Hope you’re doing well! (But its okay if you’re not!)

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#haldir #haldir x ofc #haldir x oc #haldir fanfic #haldir fanfiction #rumil #orophin #double heart

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thoseofgreatambition · 4 years

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rosemary & mint

duet masterlist

description: george was rude enough to come into your work earlier that week and put you in an absolute tizzy with how handsome he was! you were determined to make him pay. it’s a mutual surprise though, when you discover how effective the tiny things can be in making someone lustful. after all, he’d called coming over a ‘date’ hadn’t he?

author’s note: this is set in ‘98, so a little while after the war. so we’ve skipped ahead a few years from the ‘last’ update. i think y’all will love this, and enjoy the filth haha! this is the next part in @ickle-ronniekins and i’s series! hope y’all love it!

warnings: sexual content, drinking. minors beware.

length: 5.1K

You never would have thought of yourself as someone who was cheeky. A bit of a ditz at times-- though intense healer training had landed your head outside of the clouds a bit more often. At least while you were working.

Except when George had come in. You felt the familiar tingle and warmth in yourself grow once more remembering how it felt to touch his skin. It wasn’t fair! It was absolutely rude of him to become so handsome in the intervening years! If you weren’t in such a tizzy just thinking about the muscles in his arm you would write him a letter and give him a piece of your mind.

You’d had your fair share of adult dreams. You were human after all. Your penchant for romance novels probably egged it on at least a little bit. George had inhabited every single one of them so far. However, that was the first time you’d come so intimately close to him shirtless, and you still felt more affected than any of those dreams that had come before. It was incredibly rude of him! Especially with that cologne. If he weren’t due to come over soon you would have locked yourself in your room with a quieting spell. A rude man! However, as you cleaned yourself up you grinned, you had a plan for payback! You’d remembered some crucial information Fred had imparted upon you years before when he was quite drunk. George liked legs and bottoms more than breasts and arms. Thus, you were in your best set of leggings, paired along with an older sweater-- one that tended to slouch off your shoulder. You’d even paired it with a lacy bralette. Reasonable enough for unpacking furniture. You couldn’t help but giggle as you looked at yourself in the mirror, tying your hair up in the sparkly ribbon he’d made for you a few years prior. He would see what happens when he was so rude and handsome! Payback! Now!

You noticed with a frown how wrinkled the pads of your right hand’s fingers were. With a flush you hide your hand inside the baggy sleeve.

Hopefully he wouldn’t notice that.

George wasn’t sure why he was nervous. It was you! He’d seen you only a few days before. It was fine. You seemed more nervous than you used to, but perhaps it was because you were at work? The memory of your fingertips dancing across his wound still made his throat clench. Everything seemed different and the same at the same time. Your smile, your jokes-- more grownup than they were before! You carried yourself differently too. He wondered if you thought he did as well.

The cardboard handle of the six pack of beer in his hand felt as if it was going to leave a rather nasty bruise-- the perfect amount of sensation to get himself out of his thoughts. You still had the ribbon he’d given you. Still sparkling just as brightly as the first valentines day out of Hogwarts. Granted, he still had the ribbon you’d given him didn’t he? Still tied to his wrist. More brown than blue. Quite tattered after years of nonstop wear. He couldn’t take it off. It was what he’d hung on to during the war. The chance of seeing you again, when pushing you away, had hurt so bad. Especially when you’d seemed so sad about it. But now-- now was the chance to change that. To show he was grown up. To show you that things had changed. There was nothing more to worry about. He could completely and utterly love you now. He always had-- but he could finally show it. Perhaps. Perhaps if you didn’t love him yet-- he could get you to fall for him. To make your breath catch when you saw him. To make your pupils go wide. To make your fingertips itch to pull him closer. If George could make himself funny enough. Wonderful enough. Smart enough. You would fall in love with him. Hell-- he would take even the slightest bit of fancying. Whatever it would take for you to open up your heart to him. He’d be a good boyfriend, he thought. He would be a wonderful boyfriend.

It was when he had to adjust his grip on the six pack again that he realized he’d lost himself in his thoughts at your doorstep once again. Frowning at his own absentmindedness, George knocked on the door. Unsure of what he was expecting, he still found himself blown away by you when you opened the door. Your small smile was the same, the way it grew wide and your arms flung around him to hold him close. All the same. His arms were clunky around yours, and while George always took care of where he placed his hands, he took an extra amount of care that night. He cursed whatever being-- if there were any-- who was up in the sky for this. You were wearing leggings, and George already found himself plagued by far too many impure thoughts to be occupying your presence. Still, you dragged him inside. Absentmindedly he noticed that your right hand had wrinkled fingertips. Perhaps you’d been washing some dishes. He saw a few in the sink.

“Thank you for coming to help Georgie! It’s been positively dreadful. This is the first proper night off I’ve had in a while. Can you believe I’ve been paying rent on this place for a month now? And couldn’t move in?” Already, you were talking quickly like you would when the two of you were younger, remembering something unjust that wound you up so bad that George simply needed to buckle in until you’d gotten all the words out of your head. Bloody hell, you were cute when you got wound up about things like this. George made a very conscious effort not to look at your bum, and instead focused on the task before him. It was a tiny flat, with a small living room attached to a kitchen. Down the hall there were only two doors. Which he presumed to be your bedroom and the restroom. “--Maybe I ought not complain. I’ve been getting some extra money with the shifts I’ve picked up… and I don’t want to be ungrateful.” He could already see it-- the little circles looping around in your mind. You were doing everything you’d always done. Padding around in a circle as you thought aloud. Playing nervously with the ribbon in your hair. Fiddling with the baggy sleeve. It was like everything was the same and different at the same time. Because you stopped your walking, like you’d never done before. You giggled like he hadn’t heard before. Fixed the ribbon to tie your hair back tighter until it looked less like a bow and more like a shoestring. Like you’d never done before. The mustard colored sweater was draped off your shoulder, showing a lacy strap that George willed himself not to wonder about. “Sorry. I’m ranting. I’m just glad you’re here. I missed you bunches, you know.”

He’d forgotten how easily you could fit your hand through his ribcage and steal his heart from him. However, he was just discovering how you could do the same to him in other places. He’d been in love with you through adolescence. You’d occupied every fantasy he’d had. However, he was still trying to work through the shock that he’d stumbled into something akin to a fantasy he’d had last fall. When you wore a dress with leggings. George hadn’t the foggiest what he’d done to bless him like this. Or a curse. He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t help the smile that came to his face. It was dopey. He knew it. He wondered if this would be the time that you finally saw through him. “I missed you bunches too.” The sting of the war seemed so eager to come back. How you’d cried when he’d insisted on staying apart and no contact. How his hands had shaken when he wrote back to your sweet note saying that you couldn’t write to him anymore. “You did?” Of course he did! How could you not tell?

“Always. I missed you the whole time, silly.” It looked like you were proud of yourself almost, the little laugh as you tug him into a hug once again. It was baffling, but George couldn’t make himself care.

You were back in his arms. And George was determined to win you over somehow.

George had never quite felt like this before. The tension in the air as he watched you bend over and stretch to grab things and put your bed together. Your flushed face as you attempted to put on a fitted sheet all on your own-- the muggle way, you’d exclaimed. The giggles as he watched beads of sweat start to form on your hair line. Your hair falling out of place. He’d never seen that happen before. The way you kept wetting your lips in concentration as he reached up to hang your pictures.

The way you looked at him through half lidded eyes when he’d had to take off his sweater until he was back in the t-shirt he had on underneath. When you offered to crack open the beer he’d brought, George was quick to accept. He needed something cold, before you noticed something rather embarrassing about him. It was when you were putting away your dishes while he had begun to set up your table and chairs that he finally thought of something to talk about. What had you been doing! Perfect-- a perfect topic. Very appropriate. “May I ask you something?” You looked at him over your shoulder, the little smile still on your lips, eyelashes fluttering. “Yes Georgie?” Perhaps it was because he was so goddamned turned on, or perhaps it was because the two of you had discussed far more sexual things before the war. “Is that uncomfortable?” You frowned, and turned to properly face him, “Is what uncomfortable?” His face was bright red-- why did it have to be something lacy? He had such a thing for lacy garments. “Your strap. For your bra. Isn’t it uncomfortable?” There was a look akin to pride on your face that George didn’t understand-- maybe it was something new? “It’s comfortable. The lace is very soft, and since it’s wide the weight is distributed well.” You walked over slowly to him, and George found himself automatically sitting down on the table-- as if something told him he needed to sit down for what was about to happen. “You can feel it, if you’d like.” Surely, he was hearing that wrong. Carefully, George kept his gaze on the half undone ribbon atop your head. Would that be what your hair looked like after a night together? It was when you giggle that he directed his gaze back onto you, “I can what?” “Feel the lace! You can see it’s not uncomfortable.” He watched you tug your sweater down a bit more, to expose more of your shoulder along with the edge of the cup. “‘Ts alright. You had a good question.”

Lost for words, George gently reached out and laid his hand on your shoulder, thumb running over the black lace. You were right. “It is very soft.” He could hardly speak. You managed to step in between his knees so you were so incredibly close. Silently George studied the expanse of skin you’d exposed to him. How many kisses could he fit? How many hickies? How delightful would it be to rip this sweater off of you and cover your entire body with kisses? What did the rest of this look like? How soft were your breasts? Your thighs? Were your panties lace too? It felt like his entire head was spinning, and the spell was only broken when you stepped away with a giggle. “I told you!” back to unpacking dishes you went, standing on your tip toes for the tallest shelves. “I wear it to sleep sometimes. Since it’s not structured. With some matching shorts. Very soft. The silk is good since I get hot at night.” As George stood up, he realized he was uncomfortably aroused at the moment. He sat back down and tried his best to hide his lap. “Could you grab some water for me please, Y/N?” The odd smile you’d had all night was gone. Replaced with the sweet one he was so familiar with. “Are you thirsty Georgie?”

“Very.”

It was awful really. Awful how wonderfully you tucked into him. How easily his arms wrapped around you. How your nose felt against his neck as you nuzzled against his skin. Both of you half drunk and half awake. George had wondered a few days ago why his amortentia scent had changed to mint and rosemary after he’d seen you at work. It’d always smelled like sunshine and daisies. It was enough to scare him a bit-- was he falling out of love with you? The answer was no, he found now that you were tucked so delightfully against him as you sat on his lap. Playing with his fingers like you were fascinated by them. You’d changed your shampoo and your perfume. It just made him throb a bit more painfully for you. Then again, it could have been because you were sitting in his lap and kept wigging a bit as you tried to get comfortable. Drunk, and simply glad you were apparently innocent enough to not understand what you were sitting on, George kept his mouth shut. Something was telling him however, that this may have been at least a bit planned by you. He’d helped plenty of girls move in to new flats. None had worn perfume or sat in his laps. Or invited him to feel their bra. So perhaps-- perhaps-- you were interested in him even if it was a little bit. What did that mean though? He knew you weren’t the type for quick shags. Nothing wrong with it, but he’d listened to you prattle on about romance cliche’s and waiting for ‘the perfect time’ to know you weren’t trying to get him into bed. Or at least he was pretty sure. Didn’t matter either way-- you were drunk. He was drunk. Everything was off the table. That didn’t stop him from fantasizing though. George wondered if he was going to get home and tell Fred and be mocked for not realizing something obvious. Perhaps you just wanted to dress pretty? That seemed like something you would do. And to flirt a bit? You’d done that too at the hospital. Though he had started it. Maybe this was just flirting. And it meant that you were just a bit interested him, even if it was on a physical level. The idea that you found him attractive already made him swoon. Perhaps it was just enough to ask you out soon. Or to show you that he was more than just attractive. You were tracing patterns on the palm of his hand, your ear perfectly poised to hear the thundering of his heart. “You have big hands George.” “I do?” “Mhmm. They’re nice.”

Tentatively, George rested one hand on your waist, and another on top of your thigh. It was a bit odd-- he was worried about being too forward, but he hoped that this wasn’t too rude. “Is it okay if I hold you like this?” “Yeah.” Your voice was soft, “I like it when you hold me.” It felt like you were blowing air directly onto the embers of his lust. He could show you how nicely he could hold you, couldn’t he? Sure-- George didn’t have experience in that fact. But he was eager to learn. He could learn for you. He would do whatever you asked for him to do. Far too soon, you were crawling off his lap to stand up, grinning down at him as you swayed just a bit while you giggled. “Georgie, do you want to stay the night? You’re too drunk to apparate home, and my floo isn’t set up yet.” He gave a short nod, he’d been wondering how soon he could excuse himself to get home and work out his frustration, but apparating while inebriated was an easy way to lose a limb. “Thank you. I’ll sleep in here.” granted, there was no couch in your living room yet, just a few more boxes. You gave a frown to his response, “No-- I’ve got a big enough bed. It’s a queen. We can share. You hurt your back this week! You can’t sleep on the floor. Healer’s orders.” There was a moment as he stared at you that he wondered if that was really alright before he finally nodded. If you were okay with it, then it was okay. You’d shared a bed before and cuddled for the night. Then again, there was a problem he would need to work out before he shared a bed with you. “Can I use your shower first, love? I don’t think you’d want me sweating up your bed.” There was the little smile on your face again, and George realized like a slap to the face that the sexual tension in the air was mutual. “You can use my shower Georgie. There’s loads of fresh towels.” As he walked into the bathroom, George wondered if you actually did notice that he was hard or not. It was as if he no longer had any sense about him. He’d been turned on for the past few hours and the idea of finally getting some relief made him throb so hard that his stomach clenched. George turned the shower to the hottest temperature he could managed before stepping in. His clothes on the bathroom floor, discarded haphazardly, his red hair stuck to his face long enough to nearly block his vision. With his golden eyelashes fluttered shut, George used his right hand to steady himself against the shower wall while his left and reached down to slowly begin to tease his cock, imagining your hands instead.

When his grip became firmer he choked back a moan, cursing at himself to remain quiet. He needed to be fast enough that you wouldn’t notice anything was amiss. Have a quick wank, go to bed, wake up and deal with anything odd in the morning. “Georgie-- I’m going to get changed in my room alright? I’ve grabbed some extra blankets for you!” “Thank you.” He hoped his voice wasn’t so choked with lust that you would notice. The idea of you wearing the matching shorts you’d described earlier nearly made him cum already. The sexual tension was mutual wasn’t it? That much he could tell. Were you wet like he was hard? Were your hands jammed down your panties? Were you dreaming of him walking in, finding you like that and getting fucked senseless? Because bloody hell-- George sure was. There was a rather loud moan that George couldn't help but let out as he sped up his pace. His breathing ragged as he leaned against the wall.

Pure lust was not something he had felt before. He hadn’t thought that it would be such a terrible thing to deal with. Hopefully he could deal with it before you wondered why he was still in the shower.

You were desperately scrubbing your hands in the kitchen, annoyed at yourself for not being able to control your lust. Your fingers were wrinkly again! He would notice! Dammit. You were the one who was supposed to drive him crazy, and you’d just wound up desperately trying to work yourself to orgasm as quickly as you could so you could think straight. Git. Silly man. This wasn’t how the romance novel was supposed to go! He was supposed to see you, realize that you were a grown woman now and kiss you senseless. Breathlessly admit that you were all he’d ever thought of. All he’d ever dreamed of. Shag you until you were screaming his name as he whispered how much he loved you into your ear. Why couldn’t he ever play along? Oh well, you thought with a thrill of pleasure, you knew you’d turned him on at least. You’d been sitting in his lap after all. You giggled as your face heated up. You hadn’t thought about that aspect really when you had planned for the night. All your plan had been was to make him think you were terribly attractive based on what you were wearing, and feel the same sort of flustering you’d felt at work, but it seemed that you had brought it farther. Then again, you’d also made yourself more flustered than you’d felt at work. Satisfied that both of your hands were equally wrinkled now that you’d finished washing your hands, you smoothed down the oversized cardigan you wore over your silk pajama set. The shorts were rather short but it made you feel so cozy that you couldn’t care. You also reckoned you would look sexier without the fuzzy socks, but you were cold dammit! “Ah-- Y/N?” George called out nervously from the bathroom. Peaking your head down the hall, you gave him a grin before walking over. “Yes?” “Is it okay if I sleep in my shirt and boxers? I don’t have an pajamas here.” Immediately you felt your face heat up at the thought, “Of course! Sorry, I didn’t think about that. You ought to keep some over here just in case.” “Planning on having me sleep over more often?” Your only response came with a giggle, as you turned off the lights and crawled into your bed. “C’mon, bedtime.” It was an odd silence when he crawled into bed, normally the two of you cuddled immediately, but that felt like a less easy task now. There was more to think about now. You wondered if he could hear your thundering heartbeat. For a long time you simply stared at the ceiling, as you wondered if you ought to simply stay on your side of the bed. As much as your lust was screaming to roll over and shag him senseless until you were full of him, the shy bit, the romantic bit held you back. “Georgie?” “Hmm?” You could see him roll over to face you, and you covered your face a bit with the blanket, only your eyes peaking out. Why did you feel so shy now? All of a sudden? “Do you ever feel like-- now that you’re a grownup you ought to do things a certain way? And then confused about if you like doing it like that or not?” What a silly question! Silly girl-- head in the clouds. He was going to call you silly and laugh at you--

“All the time. Since I left Hogwarts.” Your eyes widened a bit, shocked that you weren’t alone in your experience. “Really?” “Mhm. It’s pretty common, Y/N.” Gently, he reached out and took your hand. “You’re not alone, you know. Don’t know why you keep thinking you’re odd for things that are normal.” You were grateful he couldn’t see how embarrassed you were in the dark. “Because I’m a bit silly.” “So? Doesn’t mean you’re odd.” It was with a chuckle from George that you found yourself being embraced, his hand so gently on your waist, his weight ever so slightly on you. It felt incredibly safe to wrap your arms around him. Like you were protected. Like the fear of being by yourself during the war was gone. The fear of having someone knock on the door and open it to doom. You were safe now. Someone was there. The person you wanted to be there, was there. You took a deep breath to soothe your nerves, and tried to relax despite the heat in between your legs growing once again. It was so easy to imagine him saying softly against your skin that he loved you. Or wonder what his long fingers would feel like drifting into your shorts.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” “Goodnight, George.”

Your sleep was restless. Punctuated by imagined kisses. Bites from your lover on tender skin. Pinches to your nipples through your thin top. George whispering into your ear asking you to tell him please, how much you wanted him? A delicious pressure to your core as your ground down on something-- his hand? It made you shudder at the thought. Little gasps as you heard him saying your name. Not wondering how so suddenly your room had been lit with candles or where his clothes had gone. And all of a sudden it was over. You were seconds away from orgasm and you were being jostled awake with concerned hands. Not a lovers hands. “Lovey? Y/N?” Tears sprung into your eyes from loss of imagined contact. “Huh?” “You were having nightmare.” You looked at George confused, before he continued. “You were shaking and gasping. Sweating and talking in your sleep.”

He was still clothed. Of course he was. A dream. With a wash of embarrassment you realized your legs were locked around one of George’s-- and put together what exactly you were grinding down on in your dream. Perhaps you could crawl into a hole? His hand was so gentle on your cheek, his voice so full of concern. “Are you okay? What was it about?” Immediately you shook your head as you sat up straight. Nope. You couldn’t tell him that. An odd sense of guilt flooded you-- that wasn’t a good thing you did, was it? Was it a good thing to have such an explicit dream about him when he was right next to you? Or was it okay since he was attracted to you? Or perhaps that was the crux of it-- you had his physical attraction and not the emotional kind? Not the love? Perhaps that was it, he finally saw you as a grownup but not the kind of person he would want to date or love. Perhaps that was it? Why he hadn’t talked to you through the war? Nervousness and anxiety clenched at your heart and made you curse your clitoris as it continued to throb in blind lust. Why couldn’t your body read the room! This was not the time. Were you rude for dressing up like this for him? Was that a rude thing? You hadn’t planned on asking him to stay the night-- you’d have told Fred the same thing. Asked him to stay in bed as well. Then again you certainly wouldn’t have tried to do that to Fred-- “Y/N.” His voice was more firm this time, as if he was deliberately trying to cut through your thoughts. “What’s happening? Please tell me.” “Just..” your voice felt foreign in your mouth. “A weird dream. A weird one is all. I’m going to take a shower and calm down.” You slipped out of bed, not noticing his hand that reached out for you and dug around in your drawer for a pair of sweatpants along with a large sweater. Silently you left the darkness of the bedroom for the abrasively bright light of the bathroom. You turned the temperature to as could as the knob would allow before stepping into the stream of water with a hiss. This finally seemed to banish your lust away for a bit. Allow for more rational thoughts. Perhaps dressing up nice was fine enough. It was normal. You were an adult. You had a grown up job and your own flat. You could do whatever you wanted. Fantasies as well. You were an adult. You could indulge in your own fantasies. Somewhere along the line though you’d stepped into deeper water than you’d thought you would. Sitting in his lap was too far, you were sure. No matter how nice it felt to know that he also lusted for you. You’d found yourself in the odd section of the ocean where the water wasn’t technically deep enough to drown you, but it was deep enough to make you uncomfortable. The alcohol was still heavy enough in your blood that you were unsure of all the ins and outs of everything. After you scrubbed yourself clean, and bundled up in your fresh and pajamas you finally crawled back in bed. Expecting George to have fallen asleep. Except he hadn’t. He reached out to take your hand and let out a small noise of surprise, “You’re freezing!” “Took a cold shower.” “You’ll catch a cold, lovey.” “I’m a healer-- that’s an old wives tale!”

There was a chuckle from George, “You can go over to the burrow and tell my mum that she’s an old wife then.” He couldn’t see you frown, but he could feel you swat at him. “I would never be so rude to Molly! She’s too nice.” “Just like she raised me to be nice?” “No, like she raised Fred to be nice.” “You’re a mean friend.” “Only because Fred is my best friend.” You laughed as George pulled you closer, the levity felt like it’d flooded back in the room. “I’m not your best friend?” “No, I’m so sorry Georgie. I’ll accept new applications in January, you can try again then.” “I plan on it.” Your head rested very comfortably on his shoulder. “Thank you for helping me tonight Georgie. I appreciate it.” “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. You know you have me wrapped around your finger.” Through the darkness you could tell he was looking at you a certain way. Almost expectantly. You couldn’t figure out why. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls, Georgie.” “Nope. Just you.”

Again with the odd look. Like he was thinking you were about to say something or notice something.

Perhaps another thank you was in order. “Thank you again, then.” He let out an odd little sigh and a chuckle before laying his head back on the pillow. “When I saw you again I thought you were all grown up-- but it’s nice to see you’re still you.” Your brow furrowed a bit, unsure of how to pick that apart. It didn’t matter though, because George was playing with your hair, no matter how cold and wet it was, and peaceful sleep seemed to be tugging you back into its hold. “Goodnight.” “Goodnight, Y/N.” He stroked your back until you finally fell asleep. What a nice way to let yourself doze off. Your dream this time around was much less based in debauchery. In fact, you could almost hear him say he loved you.

It was a wonderful dream.

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#george weasley #george weasley oneshot #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader

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bakudekugf · 5 years

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Issue 2:Daydream

Izuku quakeingly walked into the kitchen,hands stuffed firmly into his pockets.How was he going to control his power?It hadn't activated all morning but how long was that going to last?

"Izuku,love,what's wrong?"Mom asked in rightful concern.How else would one react to seeing their son shaking all over,his head down?Guilt seeped it's way into him.

'Mom...i'm sorry for worrying you...'He was going to worry Kacchan too.And Mr.Aizawa.And Mr.Yamada and Mr.Yagi and Mrs.Yagi and Mr.Ishiyama and the rest of the school staff.'Everyone...i'm sorry...'All because of this stupid power.

"It's nothing,Mom.I just..."How was he supposed to tell her?What was he supposed to tell her?

"Are you sick?"Mom asked,running over to him and placing a hand on his forehead.He brushed it away.

"No,no...I'm just sad that i got sent home."Well,that wasn't a lie.

"Oh,honey."She hugged him and he let them himself fall.He felt safe in her arms.

"It's not your fault."She pulled back and placed a hand on his cheeck.

"I know.Thanks,i feel better now.*

"Good."She smiled and he smiled back,feeling relief wash over him.Mom would never turn her back on him,mutant or not.Neither would Kacchan.He couldn't believe he was being so silly earlier."Now get to school."She handed him a lunch box wrapped up in a pale pink cloth.

"Yes,Mom.I love you."

"I love you too,darling."

Izuku perked up when he cought sight of Kacchan's backpack through the dozen's of students.

"Kacchan!"He called out but he didn't hear him over the noise."Kacchan!"He ran after him,letting out 'Excuse me's as he pushed through different students.He could feel glares on his back but being focused on Kacchan made him almost oblivious to it.

Suddenly,he felt...something.His head snapped up as if on instinct,seeing a bucket of presumably water placed on the door to their classroom.

"Kacchan,watch out!"He tackled him out of the way,landing on the floor.

"Ow!Deku,what the fu-"He froze at seeing the now spilled bucket of water."Oh...thanks.Who the fuck put that there though?"

"I'll give you one guess."Izuku responded.Realization dawned on Kacchan and he gritted his teeth.

"Copycat..."Monoma had earned that nickname after being caught trying to cheat off Kacchan's test during a pop quiz.

"Why,Bakugou-kun!"A mock hurt voice came from behind them and they both turned to see Monoma."I'm shocked at this accusation.What reason could i possibly have-"Kendou popped up and pinched a nerve on his neck,rendering him limp and caught him by the back of his shirt before he could fall face-first on the floor.She placed her free hand on her head.

"Sorry about him guys.You know how foul he is."

"That's cold,Kendou."Said he in a strained voice.

"Don't worry,"Said Izuku,standing up with Kacchan's help,"It's not your fault."

Kendou smiled at them before her eyes zeroed in on their held hands,"I'll leave you two to do your thing."She walked away,literally dragging Monoma with her.

"Kacchan,you can let go of my hand now."

"Huh?"Kacchan blinked at him and let go,"Right!"

Just then,their classmates started filling in."Good morning,Midoriya!"Iida greeted him.Izuku smiled at him.

"Good morning,Iida."

"Good morning,Deku-kun!"

"Good morning,Uraraka!"

"Bonjour,Midoriya-kun!"

"Good morning,Aoyama-kun!"

"Good morning,Bakugou!"Kaminari greeted Kacchan,slinging an arm around him.Kacchan shrugged it off.

"Good morning,Kaminari."He muttered.Kaminari beamed.

"You didn't call me an idiot this time!We're making progress!"

"Good morning,Midoriya,Bakugou."Kirishima said,walking up to them.

"G'morming,Shitty hair."

"Good morning,Kirishima-kun."

"Why's there a bucket here?"Tsuyu asked.

"Monoma/Copycat."Izuku and Kacchan said simaultaneously.

"Ah."She nodded in understanding.Monoma had a habit of trying to,to put it lightly,start shit with Class 1-A.It had been going on since the sports festival and hadn't stopped since.Todoroki walked in next.

"Good morning,Todoroki-kun!"

"Good morning,Midoriya,Bakugou."He smiled at both of them and Kacchan nodded in awknoledgement.He had let go Todoroki letting himself lose during the sports festival.

"Hey,Deku,did you get the photos i sent you?"

Izuku blinked in surprise."Uh,i haven't checked my phone yet."

Kacchan's eyebrows raised in surprise,"All day?What were you doing?"

"I was,uh,sick.Cough,cough."

Kacchan stood up,"Do you want me to take you to Ms.Shuzenji?"

"No,no,i'm fine now!"

"You just coughed."Todoroki pointed out and Izuku resisted the urge to throw his notebook at him.

"Yes,i know,but i'm fine."

Kacchan reluctantly sat back down,"If you say so.What were sick with?"

"Uh,a bad cough.I still have it a little bit."

"Are you sure you're okay?"Kirishima asked,giving him a concerned look and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah,i'm okay.Really.",He laughed nervously as his friends crowded around him."Seriously,guys,it's just a cough."

Thankfully,Mr.Aizawa walked in."Alright everyone,sit down please."They listened to him,"Midoriya,are you feeling alright?"

"Yes."He said exhaustedly.

"Great,now onto class-"

Izuku snuck behind the tree at the the back of the school(No phones inside school)and took out his phone,checking his mailbox.There,he found various pictures of what appeared to be museum exhibits.

'Kacchan...'Kacchan broke the rules for him.It made his heart swell.He smiled and leaned back against the tree,closing his eyes and pressing his phone against his heart.

His smile turned into a full-blown grin as he stuffed his phone back in his backpack.Time for lunch!

"Young Midoriya!"He jumped and whirled around at Mr.Yagi's voice."I was just hoping to talk to you!"

"Oh,what about,Mr.Yagi?."He hitched up his backpack,smiling at him.

"After yesterday's incident,i was worried about you!Don't want you getting poisened or anything!"

'Not poisened.Just mutated'This self-reminder made him hyper aware of his power-powers?What happened earlier wasn't normal.You didn't suddenly just sense things.

"Young Midoriya,are you alright?"Mr.Yagi noticed his sudden stiffness.

"Uh,yeah!"He began to sweat,"I,uh,gotta go.My friends are waiting for me!"He ran off.

"Have a good day,Young Midoriya!"Mr.Yagi called out to him.

"You too,Mr.Yagi!"

"Hey,Midoriya!"Sero waved him over.

"Hi,Sero!"Izuku sat down between him and Kacchan.

"What was Mr.Yagi talking to you about?"Kacchan asked him.Izuku almost flinched.They'd seen that?!Had they also seen him looking at his phone?!He blushed up to his ears at the thought.

"H-he was asking me about my spider bite."

"What if it was a radioactive spider?"Kirishima asked jokingly and Izuku froze.

'Yes...Yes!...that makes a lot of sense!'Radiation was the perfect explanation.It happened all the time in comic books!And this was certainly a comic book-like situation.

"And now you have superpowers that you have to use for good!"Kaminari said dramatically,standing and posing.

"That would be incredible."Said Aoyama.

"Deku could be a superhero."Kacchan agreed.Izuku blushed even more,if that was possible.

'...Me?A superhero?'He looked down at his hands.The spider bite had healed up but he could still see the place where he'd been bitten.He opened and closed them.That would be a good way to use his powers.

'But...'What would the city think?They'd probably try to capture him and experiment on him yo find out how to duplicate his powers.Or at least the police would.Izuku didn't trust them.

He shook his head,'Right now,just think about lunch.'The octopus dogs compelled him.Even they couldn't calm him dowm

"Mom?Has Dad called back yet?"Izuku asked.Mom stiffend,like she always did when Dad was mentioned.To be honest,he felt inadequet calling him that.He didn't really have a presence in Izuku's life.He barely remembered him.

"No but he will."She said firmly as if she knew.

"When?"Izuku couldn't help but ask,his voice cracking."Like he called back all the other times?"

"Izuku,please,he's your father!"Mom almost pleaded."He's a very busy man.With great power,comes great responsibility."

Izuku froze.Mom calmed down.

"I'm sorry.It's just...he hasn't responded to any of my calls and..."She began to cry and he ran to her side,hugging her."A-and he hasn't awnsered any of my texts.I just miss him,you know?"

Izuku did not know.He had no attachment to his father."Yeah,i know,just let it allll out."

Mom did so.After a few minutes,he let her go.She wiped her eyes,"Thank you,dear.I'm sorry for yelling at you."

"You're welcome.I'm sorry for prying."

"No,it's alright.You have a right to want to know about your father."

Izuku really did not want to know so he just nodded.

Mom gave him a closed eyed smile,"I'll tell him you said hi when he calls back,okay?"

"Okay.Thanks Mom."

That night,Izuku stared at his bedroom ceiling as he layed in his bed.

With great power,comes great responsibility.

#food mention #tw:father issues #spiderdeku #bakudeku #safebakudeku #fic tag

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ohscorbus · 5 years

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Harry Potter and the Cursed Child: Thursday 23rd May, 2019 [Pt. 2]

Aaaand here we are again! To say I was excited for this part two would be an understatement. I was bouncing off the walls and honestly? They did not disappoint. This was another great show from what’s already an excellent cast. If you’re not excited yet, you will be.

ACT THREE, SCENE THREE: DRACO’S OFFICE

Jonathan got so angry in this scene and it just took it to another level. I want Scorpius to be that angry. To fight it. To fight for him. His dad isn’t this person and I need him to reject it. it’s so important for both this version of Draco and for Scorpius to process about his dad in general. Plus it’s wildly fascinating to see Scorpius be so smiley and awkward and fail so completely at being the Scorpion King in the previous scenes, just for him to then lose himself in these life long fears and let his emotions take over him in this one. The way he reacts without thinking and attacks is more in line with the Scorpion King. (Presumably.) Yet he was only able to ‘achieve’ it when he wasn’t trying. It makes you wonder how much of the Scorpion King is actually inside of him... (Obviously not a lot, or at all. But it makes for an interesting discussion.)

ACT THREE, SCENE NINE: AU DEMENTORS

My heart broke for Michelle who didn’t manage to get herself hooked onto her dementor and had to walk off stage instead. It’s only happened two or three times (as far as I’m aware) so for it to happen to her on her opening night was just awful. I really hope she doesn’t let it get the better of her. After all, she wasn’t the first and she won’t be the last. These things just happen, you know?

I’m only mentioning it now because I thought people might want to know what happens in this situation:

Basically, two people in black cloaks with hoods up come on. One is stood in front and holding the cloak out to block your view as they wave it in what presumably is meant to be in a dementor-y kind of way, while the other focuses on hiding Hermione (or Ron) as they walk off the stage. It does the job but I do wish their cloaks had been modified dementor costumes instead! At least that way it still looks like they’ve been taken by dementors rather than it being an obvious failure.

I’m still being blown away by Jonathan and I could not be happier. His Scorpius is still the same, but the subtle changes from just having that different energy on stage really brought out his A game. I particularly loved his interaction with the dementors in this scene. It could just be because I was sitting closer than usual so I could actually hear the wispy gasps he was making as he struggled to catch his breath, but that combined with how he made his body loose and slow and floaty as the dementor attacked was just incredible. (Although maybe I’m just biased because you know the dementors are my favourite. These scenes are important to me.)

ACT THREE, SCENE ELEVEN: SLYTHERIN DORM

“I know. Okay.” - I loved the anger from Albus in this line. I can’t even begin to describe to you what he does with his face when his anger peaks like this. But it’s concentrated and scary. He’s furious. It’s brilliant.

Albus never moved from the spot he was in, round the other side of the bed to Harry. It meant it was always between them. Fitting really, given how they once again fail to overcome the barriers that separate them.

ACT THREE, SCENE TWELVE: GODRIC’S HOLLOW DREAM SCENE

I absolutely adore what Kathryn did with Petunia this scene. The pauses and emotion in her voice as she recalled Lily (“she tried - bless her - it wasn’t her fault) came as a surprise but was also completely welcomed. It reminded me of that deleted scene from the movies. The one where she’s talking to Harry in the living room and she says he didn’t just lose a mother that night, she lost a sister too. It was beautifully done. Plus getting to see this glimpse of that side of her, a part she��s clearly kept hidden for years, was wonderful. It really made me sit up and take notice because I expected to get nothing but a reminder of how awful she is in scenes like this. To suddenly be hit with the realisation there’s more to her than ‘villain’, that there’s human and heart in there somewhere, was vastly more compelling to watch.

ACT THREE, SCENE TWENTY: THE MAZE

“Your dad loves you, very much” - The second time he said this, it felt rushed and he sort of let it drift off towards the end. It was obvious he felt awkward even having the thought, let alone saying it out loud to Cedric. I like that because it says something about him since he did still say it. It wasn’t the heartfelt message we’ve seen from Albus’s before, but it still shows his heart and this Albus’s awkwardness.

ACT THREE, SCENE FOURTEEN: SLYTHERIN DORM

Albus held his hands up and did a ‘I could strangle you’ kind of gesture at Scorpius, who was paying zero attention, and it was very them.

“You may not have been there, Albus, but you were fighting - fighting alongside me.” - Albus looked so happy and moved by this statement. I swear he said something or went to? I can’t remember for sure. But he definitely reacts to this confession more than any other Albus I can recall and I’m super happy about that. He liked the idea he was there with Scorpius and fighting together. It was sweet.

ACT THREE, SCENE SIXTEEN: OWLERY

We’ve finally got the ‘let’s make history’ line, wooo! I love that this Albus gets it too. It really suits him. If any of them would deliberately set out to make such a bold change in the world, it’s this one. Dominic delivers it with such energy too. It’s perfect.

ACT FOUR, SCENE THREE: GODRIC’S HOLLOW

Albus, of course, immediately runs off after Lily and James as they exit the stage. He isn’t thinking, he’s feeling and following his heart. (I really do love this scene.) Scorpius is quick to run after him and he grabbed his wrist and pulled him back and didn’t let go until he’d stopped and wasn’t a flight risk anymore. I liked that because, after all their awkwardness about touching, he didn’t hesitate in moments when it mattered.

ACT FOUR, SCENE FIVE: GODRIC’S HOLLOW PLANS

“Still, if I had to choose a companion to be at the return of eternal darkness with, I’d choose you” - As soon as Scorpius started this line, Albus immediately began to look a little bit uncomfortable. It was like he suspected what was about to be said, or he at least thought he did, and was nervous about it for some reason. There are so many ways to read into that and I love it for that reason. But for me, it related back to his reaction in Hogwarts through the trees. When Scorpius said he wanted someone like Harry Potter to get up to mayhem with, Albus looked sad. Like he almost expected a comment like that. So it makes sense for him to expect Scorpius to want Harry Potter, the saviour and everyone’s hero, in this moment too. But once again Scorpius surprises him (and only him) and tells him he’d choose him. Again. Always. Basically, it was really sweet and it was also interesting to see this Albus doubt himself with Scorpius again despite already having numerous reassurances.

“We just need to work out where to find some… Demiguises.” - His pause, which is actually in the script and I had completely forgotten about, was adorable (and relatable) because it was like he wasn’t sure how to pronounce the word. Bless.

ACT FOUR, SCENE SIX: ALBUS’S ROOM

“We’re starting with Dad” - The stage direction says his firm here and this Albus absolutely is. His tone and the look he gave Scorpius left him with no doubt that this was no longer up for discussion. They were starting with ‘dad’.

ACT FOUR, SCENE EIGHT: GODRIC’S HOLLOW HUGS

Even with a new Potter around I still could not take my eyes off the Malfoys. I think the audience were in agreement as the awwws that filled the theatre warmed my heart. My favourite part though? After they had hugged, Draco cupped Scorpius’s cheek and gave him this look full of love. I couldn’t see Jonathan’s face today but they did this on Sunday too and you’ll be happy to know Scorpius gave him the same look back. Now doesn’t that just melt you?

ACT FOUR, SCENE TEN: ST. JEROME’S

“Draco, trust my dad. He won’t let us down.” - It was really interesting to have an Albus move to stand directly in front of Harry and not Draco for this line. It felt less like a confrontation with Draco and more like him standing up for his dad. That says so much about Albus. One, that he’s probably smart enough not to piss off his best friend’s dad and risk them being separated again. And two, it’s like he’s giving something back to his dad in return for Harry’s ‘there’s plenty you’re good at’ line. Neither of them are there yet but they’re reaching out to each other and working together at this point. It’s nice. As was Harry’s face when he looked from the back of Albus’s head and over to Ginny and back again as Albus spoke. You could see how moved he was by Albus’s words and actions. That really meant a lot. It was lovely to see Harry have this silent conversation with Ginny about it too. It mirrored their silent conversation back in act one over the map table. That was about Albus too. But this time it was finally about something positive.

ACT FOUR, SCENE ELEVEN: ST. JEROME’S

“I really liked her, mum” - I was either too overwhelmed with all the new things to really pick up on it or maybe Dominic emphasised it more in part two, but I really picked up on more of his Albus’s mannerisms this time around. Like here, when he’s sat on the bench with his mum, Albus is sat with his shoulders a little hunched and one of his feet is on top of the other. He looked a little smaller and a tiny bit uncomfortable and a lot awkward. I think he was doing something with his hands too...

You know what? Let me just drop some random observations on you that I’ve made about his Albus so far: occasionally hunches his shoulders, will sometimes play with his hands and fingers just like Scorpius - they’re the definition of awkwardness when they’re both doing it together, he rocks back and forth from one foot to the other all the time - it makes him appear nervous and full of energy and I love it, and he never hesitates to raise his voice and won’t hold in his anger. As for the closest interpretation from our previous ones? Sam Clemmett, but Dominic is less restrained and happier.

I said my goodbyes to the unscripted Albus and Scorpius hug in this scene on cast three’s last show. Little did I know Jonathan and Dominic would still bless us with something. While it isn’t a full blown hug, the fact that they still run to each other and physically reach out and make contact as soon as the duel is over is the most important bit and it still happens. I also loved the fact Scorpius didn’t want to let go or stop looking at him and didn’t do so until Ginny had made her way over to them. He then seemed to accept he’d be safe and that his mum might need that reassurance he’s okay too.

Albus tightened his grip on his wand as soon as Delphi said ‘then kill me’. He didn’t raise his arm so his wand was still down by his side, but the fact that he held onto it so tightly at those particular words was interesting and it explained his next reaction. So when Harry says he won’t, Albus immediately bolted forward. Harry had to hold him and used enough force that he made Albus’s clothes all bunch up around his shoulder and neck from where he had to be pushed back. I’m pretty sure even Ginny stepped in and helped contain him. I really hope this stays because I want to see it over and over again. That pure determination and anger. The fact that it took fully grown adults to hold him back. Also! The two Malfoys as they watched Albus in this moment was something else. They were both clearly a little shocked, but Draco in particular seemed to be looking at Albus like he hadn't seen him before. It’s wildly fascinating. Plus the whole thing reminded me of Sirius Black’s death in the movies. How Harry is restrained and then let loose but is still unable to kill Bellatrix even though he’s so incredibly angry and has the chance. It gave me a whole new understanding of Harry’s later line: ‘you’d watched her murder Craig, you were angry, Albus, and that’s okay. And you wouldn’t have done it”. Because Harry isn’t just speaking as a reassuring parent here, he’s speaking from experience. That’s how he should be using his past to help his son.

ACT FOUR, SCENE TWELVE: DEATH SCENE

Albus reached out and held onto Harry’s arm with both his hands as the Potters were killed. Then once Lily had been murdered and Harry fell to the ground with a cry, he reached down and held onto Harry’s wand with him. It read as support in so many ways, and so differently to how Joe’s Albus handled the wand. Joe would take it from Harry’s hand completely and replace it with his hand while holding the wand in his other. To me that read as confirmation that love was stronger than magic. Because that’s what Harry, in every timeline, always needs in that moment. Love. No spell can fix or save this. But now you have Dominic’s Albus who appears to help Harry keep hold of his wand. Yet that to me still represents love as I see this as them finally coming together. Getting through this moment, through his history, together. It’s the end and the start for both of them.

ACT FOUR, SCENE FOURTEEN: HOGWARTS STAIRCASE

I honestly don’t know how to describe their last hug. I’ve overused the word awkward but there really isn’t any other word to describe it. It was just all hands. They didn’t seem to know where or how to touch each other. It ended up looking like they were both doing the big fish, little fish, cardboard box dance around each other. Yet miraculously, this strange air patting thing they were doing somehow seemed to work for them. No one is surprised...

ACT FOUR, SCENE FIFTEEN: GRAVEYARD

I was feeling a lot of things during this scene so very few mental notes were taken. But I do remember how Albus looked a little bit horrified as he looked down at all the gravestones. He didn’t seem to be particularly happy or comfortable being there. Understandable. But that didn’t stop him from walking over to Cedric’s grave when Harry started talking about him. It was like he didn’t have as much to fear if he had his dad with him. It was a really nice way to end this journey. That, and their hug. Although I was terrified for a second that they had cut it because the lights started to dim before they had even started. It was such a shame how little we got to see it before it was too dark!

Other little changes and notes:

The light in the Time-Turner was a different colour! There was the normal yellowish orangey light, and now it’s also blue sometimes. I can’t recall exactly which colour it was for each scene but I’m sure there’s a reason as to why it changes and when. It’s probably something to do with when and where they’re using it in time but until I’ve seen it again I won’t know for sure.

You know when Ginny removes the light bulb from the wall in Delphi’s room? Well now there’s a pulsing, glowing blue light inside and it emits thick smoke. I actually really liked this. It gave the illusion there was something more beyond that wall. Something sinister.

I also just have to mention all the eyeliner. So Snape now has this really obvious (and questionable) smokey eyed thing going on, Delphi is wearing so much of it she gives me Megan from Puffs vibes (particularly pre-reveal), and even Bane seems to have been given a makeover.

And there we have it! If it isn’t already abundantly clear, I love this cast. Their new interpretations are fresh and it’s making the returning cast members step up and everything has slotted into place wonderfully. I said this yesterday and I mean it even more so today: this next year is definitely going to be a good one.

[Again, there’s so much I’ve missed out but I’ve run out of time and memory. I am seeing the show again on Saturday 25th though so hopefully I’ll pick up on the things I’ve missed then. Please feel free to leave any specific requests for scenes in my inbox. I can’t promise to answer them all but I can try!)

#harry potter and the cursed child #TCCleanne #long post #mypost #it's now 2.30am so the fact you're getting words at all is a miracle so please excuse any and all typos #I promise I can actually write like the educated adult that I am! :')

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vaguely-concerned · 5 years

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I’ve been reading the temeraire books non-stop since christmas and I’m on the third one and I have too many feelings spilling out of me to not write some of them down

- the funeral at the beginning is so atmospheric and haunting I love it

- laurence has such a heady blend of Disaster Bisexual and pure Dad energy

like he’s going to kick your ass he’s going to kick his own ass he’s going to be conflicted about the act of kicking ass b/c of Duty to his country, he’s going to go on long wonderfully unselfconscious descriptions of handsome men and he’s going to adopt a bunch of orphans along the way

- oh no tharkay just showed up... I’m sorry literally everyone else in this series it’s been one hell of a ride these last two books but none of you turned up with a falcon, a look of wry cynical amusement and the very real sense that you’re continually pretending to have no feelings while actually having All The Feelings going on under the surface so uh. what can you do

every wry smile is a wonder every time he proves yet again to be the most competent person present and is snarky about it is a joy etc. he tells temeraire stories and teaches him dragon language. I am helpless

- also it’s such a fucking tease b/c MASTERFULLY he’s not mentioned that much to begin with even though we know he’s around, presumably because Laurence doesn’t care that much at first (though he does realize he’s strangely disproportionately upset at the thought that Tharkay might have betrayed them huh... *chinhands*) and also he’s keeping deliberately emotionally distant, so I’m just continually turning the pages like ‘but my boy tho. what’s my boy up to’

- laurence has a lot of endearing traits, but I think the time he was literally embroiled in a day-long desperate battle behind an improvised barricade and still took a moment to wash and dry his neckcloth takes the cake. he’s such a nerd about his clothes I love him

(I also like the character development just from the first book to this -- he can still unthinkingly be a dick sometimes, but you get the feeling he’s shed a lot of bad shit he learned from his awful dad as well as the navy b/c like. he’s a good. he’s a good good boy at the end of the day and he had to learn to be a dragon’s dad real quick. Temeraire gets completely blown by him being strict ONCE in throne of jade and knows instinctively how much laurence loves him. can u imagine how much he is NOT like his dad after all. Y_____Y)

- I’m so sorry your human is such a glorious dummy, Temeraire.

- noooo tharkay’s birb D:D:D: rip u magnificent little murderbird

- this post-fleeing-headlong-through-the-sewers scene is so charming... laurence FINALLY getting his head out of his ass about this man and realizing he’s saved their bacon again and again (seriously he’s SUCH a shit judge of character I can’t... you initially looked at RANKIN and was like ‘seems like a decent chap and a gentleman’ and now you’ve spent half the book thinking THIS dude is going to betray you... shaking my head at you laurence)... tharkay having a brief moment of being emotionally honest before going back to sardonically sweeping all his feelings under the carpet but it’s too late laurence is already like ‘OH’... honestly this poor man had no chance laurence just had to go and be Very Earnestly Laurence at him, no one could be expected to withstand it

- “Tharkay looked at him, a queer uncertain expression briefly crossing his face... he reached out his hand with a jaunty air; but there was nothing whatsoever insincere about his grip” afdshfddgd fanfic brain engage how much do you want to bet that’s what happens the first time laurence kisses him too, just a split second before he accepts that he means it and smiles... I... am so emotional... I love him so much already and it’s only been 170 pages of brief appearances apparently he’s in more of these books I am going to DIE

“He closed his mouth on anything further, though his customary seeming indifference looked now a mask imperfectly put on” falsdfjaslkdfjsdakl I knew... I knew I was going to suffer about him from the moment he stepped onto the page and here I am

- Lien is SO CREEPY in this speech but also ‘I had to know you understood b/c you’re very young and stupid’ made me cackle aloud in a public place. that’s a burn huh

- I am very sad about temeraire being sad a lot in this book :( I hope he gets his revenge by lovingly preaching his radical politics to this egg and making the hatchling a born firebreathing rebel

- tharkay startled to realize temeraire has adopted him as one of His Humans and not letting him fling himself into danger......... my heart

you’ve been teaching him dragon language and all kinds of stuff tharkay what did you expect that’s like how temeraire bonds (b/c he’s a wonderful nerd the size of a hillside)

- so is laurence like... hot for napoleon. b/c that’s kind of what this description reads like. that went from ‘he’s taller than I expected’ to ‘lean and glitter-eyed’ and ‘handsome’ real fast wtf laurence

- ...this whole prussian affair isn’t going so well is it?? (also poor granby he always suffers the most)

- a) the hatchling is amazing, omg, b) I’m just continually in stitches over temeraire’s reactions to her and also the ongoing saga of laurence trying to teach him about property rights. like the thing where dragons mature quickly but still stay young for quite a long time basically means poor laurence is stuck parenting an incredibly intelligent and earnest teenager the size of a barn for years to come.

- actually I really enjoy how the author has managed to set up the complexity and authenticity of the dragon/captain relationships? it’s a very strange mix of two-way parental & child dynamics and a life partner and you just accept it completely, to the point that you find it sympathetic even in the bad guys. it’s so well done.

- uuuuuuuuuuuuh laurence spacing out for a while there is really harrowing, this whole part is very stressful to read

- THARKAY

THARKAY DID YOU JUST

HE DID

LAURENCE WAS NICE TO HIM O N C E and he went back halfway around the world to get twenty dragons for him without even saying shit except that he was leaving... I can’t... he’s... too good.... coming in like a radiant beam of hope in the darkest hour like gandalf in that lotr movie except marginally more low-key b/c he’s a sneaky fuck but also arkady...

william laurence you marry this man immediately

- thank you laurence I’ve spent the last hundred pages going ‘...but ol’ bonaparte is just demonstrably better at this tho. why are none of you suckers using dragons for anything but throwing them into the meat grinder in battle’, it’s good that was happening under the hood with you too. (I have this same problem in lord of the rings sometimes -- the orcs are just smarter about warfare? the humans almost deserve to lose in the face of all that creativity and nerve? like pls gondor honor is all well and good but please use your brains instead of doing the same stuff your great great grandfathers did. I realize the orcs literally symbolize industrialized warfare but could the humans and elves come up with some defensive innovations pls)

#temeraire #on to the next one! I'm sure everything will be fine *looks into the camera like I'm on the office*#meta #william laurence x tenzing tharkay #willzing

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floggingink · 7 years

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Riverdale: “Chapter Thirteen: The Sweet Hereafter”

six seconds in, we’re hit with the pun “cliffhanger,” which meant I had to pause the recording immediately after it began and brew a very strong tea

“Life’s not an Agatha Christie novel,” Jughead mumbles, reminding himself, standing in line at Stumptown for Betty’s latte

Jason “I’ll Sell These Drugs But Not These Drugs” Blossom, killed for his moral relativism

is there quite a business for heroin in Montreal? is Montreal the hub of heroin in Canada, the Philly of Canada? I tell you, I have heard more mentionings of Montreal on Riverdale than I have my entire life before it (what I’m calling “Phase One” of my life, or maybe “B.R.”)

where did the Hiram Lodge leather satchel come from to be planted at Mustang’s? didn’t Hermione give one stuffed full of cash to the Mayor?

what, if anything, did Clifford think of Jughead Jones, to spew at FP while threatening his life? (write this fic for me)

FP tossing his Sabrina comic to the side becomes Pop sliding Jughead’s coffee across the counter: LEE TOLAND KRIEGER. this is going to be one of THOSE episodes

is Jughead’s dream to be a sort of Alice, drinking coffee and writing his scoop in a real newspaper office?

“75 MORE YEARS OF PEP!”

“last vestiges of corruption crushed”—ma’am, you took a BRIBE

can we get FP some new clothes in there, in holding? maybe a DVD player? is there so little other crime in Riverdale that FP has been free to lounge in solitary relaxation there for days?

I don’t know why Jughead was allowed to sit in on the meeting between FP and Sheriff Keller, but it means he gets to lounge against a wall in the blue prison lighting without himself being detained, which is always welcome

the Serpents only deal in “dime bags of weed,” so whatever else they do to be a Scary Gang is up in the air, menacing public spaces

FP is SO COOL AND COLLECTED in the face of a 20-years-to-life threat, truly an inspiration for those in tight corners with authority: smirk at your legs, chin pointed down, show off your cheekbones, reveal nothing

not enough column inches devoted to Archie’s waistline. while not the coveted martini glass Chuck Clayton sported, Archie’s waistline is instead a gently tapered pilsner glass, deceptive in its easy concealment under a heavy letterman jacket or zipped-up hoodie, until, draped only in a grey T-shirt, it shows its full force and effect

(Jughead is a hand-blown lead crystal sommeliers champagne flute, designed with a thin rim to heighten the effect of the bubbles on the nose)

you know LEE TOLAND KRIEGER has Fred Andrews brooding in the steamy sunbeams of his kitchen window!

there’s a rose gold French press and a porcelain green tea kettle on the counter behind him

Maturing Friend points to Archie for acknowledging that his “dealing” is different from Jughead, Betty, and Veronica still being in the thick of it

I’d give $30 to know what huge book Veronica is reading

“He’s your father, not the Godfather”: Godfather reference #1

Betty is unbelievably self-possessed at the breakfast table that she looks that calm while ripping up her palm

difference between telling Jughead your problems and telling Archie your problems: Betty’s like, My family’s acting happy, and Archie’s like, That’s great, babe!

Archie laughs at Betty’s “Greek suburban tragedy,” which she gives him a look for, but this is just what Archie has been conditioned to do. he doesn’t totally understand everything, so he’s learned to just laugh gamely

Archie doesn’t understand Veronica’s “pas de deux”

Mayor McCoy is doing some frantic PR, looping Archie and Betty into the Jubilee

“What about Jughead?” GOD I LOVE THIS ARCHIE

Mayor McCoy “likes” Jughead. will we ever learn how Jug wrangled his way into a meeting with her about the drive-in?

along with baby showers and birthday parties, jubilees aren’t Jughead’s “thing”

Jughead doubts it: “Kevin, relax. This isn’t The Wire.” Jughead is doubtlessly one of those people who think The Wire is the greatest TV show ever made (which it is), and I want to say he might also be one of those people who sits down their SO and makes them watch it from beginning to end (which he should)

throughout this incredible West Wing circle-around of Sad Breakfast Club eating lunch, Kevin tersely bounces an orange on his tray, Veronica has a salad, Betty has assorted fruit, Jughead has a sandwich, Archie appears to be drinking apple juice (MY MAN)

Veronica, and this happened, stood up to deliver the news about her and Archie. it’s because she knows how important it is!

Archie, mouthing: Don’t. No. No. No. No. What’re you doing.

Please protect Betty: Betty’s like, And this is coming from me, I’m telling you to relax.

“Instead he was buried like a pauper.” I’m picturing the burial in Amadeus, where Mozart’s body is dumped out of a reusable coffin into a heap of bodybags, blessed in the rain by the priest on duty, dusted with lime, and walked away from, already forgotten

“Why are you crying? You hated him.” I really have difficulty conceptualizing or putting into words the particular scariness of Penelope Blossom, like the quiet venom things she does, the way she sneers and her subzero motionless rage stewing, like how she was staring into the fireplace last episode? DAMN. Penelope Blossom is like an 80’s psychological thriller villain transplanted into a 2010’s teen soap, and she begat Riverdale’s greatest thematic creation, Cheryl Blossom, who lives her life as if every moment is the dramatic bombshell scene before cutting to commercial

Penelope...just...unambiguously endorses hanging yourself instead of “this awful limbo,” “living,” “being alive,” “reality”

Every triangle has three corners, every triangle has three sides: Archie double-checking with Betty is sweet, Betty stopping Archie before he gets started on his “But I always thought…” is ESSENTIAL

he’s still thinking about it! COME ON ARCHIE. his little yeeaahhhh... microexpression

the 2001 Josie and the Pussycats movie was a masterpiece: Josie: Oh...we’re not going to sing it. Oh, did you think we were going to sing it?

I will give Hal Cooper credit for smiling proudly at Betty while her mom compliments her article

but ONLY FOR THAT

Betty’s heavily structured trench coat is righteous

Cheryl “abdicates” as the Vixens’ “directoress,” like she’s the tsar

she could be, with that choker!

“I’ve shed my tears for the Blossom men.” and now she’s in grim business mode, sooooo

Betty wasn’t allowed to publish in her mother’s newspaper so she published in her own damn newspaper

thank you Veronica for telling me how to pronounce “Bechdel”

“Swear on the September issue?” “And on my copy of Forever by Judy Blume.”

Fred Andrews had a fast, serious talk with the social worker: “You gotta call him ‘Jughead.’ I know his name is Forsythe. You gotta call him Jughead or he’s not going anywhere with you.”

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: Archie and Jughead coming back from doing who knows what together, Archie tosses his jacket onto the staircase, Jug is like, NICE

this is a new jacket from Jug! the boy loves a fleece lining!

Certified pedigree: Fred is juuuust on this side of too poor and sad to be able to house Jughead

Jughead’s “It doesn’t sound completely horrible” is a radical concession from him, perhaps has been waiting for this moment for months, for Children’s Services to catch up to him

Archie runs to FP to save Jughead. is there a revolving door to FP’s cellblock?

“It tears me up, red, but the Serpents are my tribe.”

FP calls his son “scrappy, a survivor,” which is what everyone wants their father to know for a fact about them

“He’ll try and pull away inside himself. . . He’s got some darkness in him.” he will! he does! cut to: the burger

a one-on-one Jughead and Veronica scene? I’ve not only already signed up, I’m standing at the entrance with a clipboard waving down passersby on the street for more signatures

“You and I have a lot in common”: Jughead goes straight for the superficial prison thing, and Veronica counters with the superficial dating-the-best-friends ergo thrown-into-each-other’s-company thing, but what else could we mention here? fixation on “truth”? fixation on outer appearance as social armor? fixation on father’s legacy as relates to nature-versus-nurture destiny of self? fixation on Betty Cooper as a means to salvation? so many options

I would appreciate an explanation for why sometimes Jughead has lunch with the rest of the gang and sometimes he’s not there. and now he’s at lunch and no one else is there with him except Veronica. do high schools have two lunches now? is one like an extended breakfast before homeroom, or a free period? what different electives do they have that their schedules are slightly different? for instance Archie still presumably has his MUSIC THEORY

Cheryl’s pins: blue cherry pin on her soft cornflower blue wrap top

it’s validating to know Cheryl considers her Bakelite spider pin to be as fantastic as I do

also I love the word “recompense,” so Cheryl is skyrocketing

Veronica recognizes this, the second instance of Cheryl giving away a treasured possession, as the red flag it is (plus making amends!), while Jughead, NOTABLY, pockets the pin as advised

the hanged Betty doll strung up on her locker with twine is like something Nikolaj Coster-Waldau’s nieces would have played with out in the woods in Mama

the phrase “Go to hell, Serpent slut” is so, SUCH a mix of high and low art, the plebeian and proletarian, “GO TO HELL” is so bourgeois and chill and indignant and after that they still have enough pig’s blood to call her a slut, which is like SO trashy Draco Malfoy?

what is FP Jones innocent OF in Betty’s article? he’s not being charged WITH murder, and he IS guilty of some murder-adjacent villainy, so I assume Betty’s article is more about his character assassination

Betty’s already in the dazed later stages of absorbing and/or filing this under “emotionally deal with later,” Polly is about to cry

Jughead, who watches Carrie every Wednesday, is always ready to tell Betty the ugly truth, the viscera of the truth

BUT he like whispers it as she, SLIGHTLY in denial to herself while knowing she’s slightly in denial, attempts to tear it down and he’s like mmmmmmmm standing in front of it to redirect her attention and he GETS HER OUT OF THERE, he’s like Agent Toscano in the back kitchens at Georgetown with Zoey

Archie doesn’t know where you could get pig’s blood and this ENRAGES HIM

Betty and Jughead appear to be strolling home together through a graveyard, because Betty and Jughead

Jughead is so coded as an outsider that I’m afraid for his peace of mind once he relocates to his southside pied-à-terre and feels like he’s among kith and kin. the multiverse indeed

there have never been two people more devoted to touching each other’s faces, with the possible exception of Bella and Edward in Dan Bergstein’s Blogging Twilight, than Betty and Jughead. their heaven would be a night at the Ritz-Carlton by Central Park, eating three-egg omelettes and scrubbing each other with Lush face masks. Betty is Rosy Cheeks, Jughead is Cup o’ Coffee

Betty doesn’t let Jughead “Sure babe” his way out of resolving their conversation

plus then he gazes at her like she is the only source of light in his life

Veronica was rich: Hiram Lodge is partial to black orchids? did Hermione get it from the Blossoms’ ORCHID ROOM?

These students are legally children: “Sure, mom, I’ll just sexually manipulate Archie into doing my bidding.” “As long as you’re in control.” WHOA!

Hermione, to be clear, as gone full dark side, while not bitterly sanctioning suicide in front of her emotionally shattered daughter but in a fallen-1%, Madame du Barry sort of way

I like how the show is setting up Hiram Lodge as a scary cloak of paternal/paternalistic/patriarchal malevolence, wherein at the beginning of the series Hermione was at least fronting to distance herself from Hiram’s name and influence and history, and now that he’s “coming back,” she is getting ready for his return left and right through her turning away from Town Upright Fred Andrews, her business loyalties, her aesthetic choices, and her hypothetical manipulation of, of all people, Archie

Betty could run the Iditarod in that trench coat

my man LEE TOLAND KRIEGER coming in with Alice Cooper and the reflection of Alice Cooper flanking Betty while they fight in the kitchen!

“It’s so hard, Mommy. Pretending every—” “I. Don’t. Care.” there has never BEEN a daytime soap, Lifetime Original, Ryan Murphy production, or Sharon Stone exploitation period piece as GOOD as the scenes between Cheryl and Penelope

Cheryl is wearing this drapey see-through black lingerie robe while she dashes around her haunted mansion like sexy Bertha Antoinetta Mason

Mädchen Amick, MÄDCHEN AMICK: you know shit is about to get a confessional when Alice walks into Betty’s room with no eye makeup on and a cardigan that covers her hands

“I have a secret brother out there in the world.” for half a second, I was terrified, in a fabulous lurid way, that the secret brother was Jughead, because I would not put that past Riverdale, before, you know, he’s gotta be like ten years older than Betty

but I mean, he’s got to be FP’s child. right? like—RIGHT?

Fifth period is AP English: “Positively Dickensian.” does Archie know Dickens? surely he knows CHARLES DICKENS

“A blond Adonis, no doubt.” or a sloe-eyed greaser with a DEEP VOICE and Alice’s cheekbones???

WITNESS ME: it is at this point, 21 minutes in, that Ep. 13 starts moving at 10,000 mph

“GO TO THE DARK SIDE”!!!!! like Southside High is MOS EISLEY

the music in the background picking up like some shit is about to happen, like they’re about to BREAK HIM OUT OF PRISON!!!!

What damn high school in America: our boy LEE TOLAND KRIEGER INDEED had Archie, Betty, and Veronica do the Breakfast Club hallway slide, because—BECAUSE WHY NOT! why not just LEAVE SCHOOL to go to a different school to get your friend out of school!

Veronica is in like a black sable stole, because SHE IS!

it is impossible to see what book Jughead is reading, and this haunts me!

Gay.: this is our first viewing of SOUTHSIDE TEEN, taking one of Jughead’s fries, wearing a very conservative white tee and blue jean jacket with a simple side part/2-setting shave down haircut!

honestly Southside High looks fantastic for Jughead in the sense that everyone is wearing a flannel and everyone’s hair is rebelliously long or styled archaically

Cheryl’s sheaths: local hero LEE TOLAND KRIEGER has those white-cold sunbeams coming down over the back of Cheryl’s Gothic grand duchess bed as she lays out her Jason dress!

“Where would he be?” “...cafeteria.”

if you look, there is literally just a female Jughead sitting on the table to Jughead’s right, she’s in black skinny jeans, black Chuck hightops, a DARK BLUE JEAN JACKET WITH A FLEECE COLLAR, and a soft stretchy beanie! she is right, like, hit me up! I cook!

it’s been one afternoon and already Jughead has more friends at Southside High than he had the entirety of his life in the northside school system

Betty, Archie, and Veronica just reaching the table with Jughead surrounded by ne’er-do-wells about to beat him up but it turns out Jughead is merely the beloved communal focal point IS the scene in Guy Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes when Jude Law’s Watson shows up at the prison and makes his way through the circle of Victorian roughs about to massacre Robert Downey, Jr., just as Holmes delivers the punchline to a ribald joke to the delight of the motley ruffians and it turns out he’s basically their king

Jughead is technically like Serpent royalty, so it makes sense all these Slytherins would at least make the gesture to seek him out and adore him

awww, Betty Cooper embodying the north side, Jughead embodying the south side, hugging each other, nothing shall tear them asunder, YET

Jughead says something to make her laugh while Archie and Veronica look on

it might not be a stole. it might be the collar of her jacket. is that her Homecoming jacket? I wouldn’t put it past her to have a black sable stole

Veronica getting Cheryl’s text and being like, “We have to go!” is literally the third or fourth time THIS EPISODE someone has been like, “WE HAVE TO GO!”

I could not believe we were actually getting a scene with these guys running through THE FOREST to stop CHERYL BLOSSOM from KILLING HERSELF—just—pause to reflect???

first there’s some sort of bonkers Titanic ice splintering under their feet

and Cheryl is beating her way through the ice with her hands and the power of grief? like—my god. Emily Brontë is like, He’s dead, girl, let it go

Summer + Blair = Veronica: Veronica is truly, as she has been in the past, embodying her true self, with is to reach out with her haughty, beautiful, self-aware, compulsive love and connect with everyone she sees: “WE’LL FIGURE THIS OUT TOGETHER OKAY.”

Cheryl is of course in her all-white mourning dress, her hair down, her spidery mascara, her lips turning purple, bathed in the BLUE FILTER OF HORROR as she sinks into the ice, the ice claims her like the blood sacrifice it demands each year to keep the maple syrup flowing

Archie barrels across the frozen river like a ginger Balto

pretty sick underwater shot looking up at Archie from below the ice!!!!

remember when Veronica told him to be careful with that hand, that his hand was going to be worth millions someday and he needed to be gentle with it during football or he couldn’t play guitar, and now he’s punching through a frozen river? ARCHIE?

the Blossom corpse: okay…..okay…..Cheryl seeing Jason’s corpse reach out to take her like Frodo being dragged underwater by the ghosts of the soldiers claimed by the Dead Marshes

the bloody juice milkshake on top of the water as Archie finally beats his way through by the power of his ripped bod

Archie > Dawson: you know Archie knows CPR!!! how delicately he pinches Cheryl’s nose shut!

however cold Cheryl was upon being thrust into the winter air as Archie & the Gang brought her to A HOSPITAL was not half as cold as Hermione regarding her in front of the fireplace and saying, “What is she doing here?”

Betty starting to cry immediately after putting on mascara is real-life drama

Archie, bullheadedly warming up to perform with his hand in a cast after he saved someone’s life, doesn’t know the word “wistfully,” and I think this encapsulates everything great about Archie Andrews

again, again, AGAIN, I want to JUST POINT OUT that Veronica-noticing-Archie staring “longingly” at Betty-plus-Jughead and wondering if this meant Archie secretly liked Betty is a plot point that would have been stretched out over the course of at least one entire episode, if not the undercurrent of an entire relationship arc of a season, on a lesser teen show, AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN, but Riverdale does not have time! we have to get everyone to the scene where Reggie is threatening to run Principal Weatherbee through with an epee on top of Veronica’s apartment building by the end of the episode!

for the Jubilee performance, Melanie has a shiny white skirt and big hoop earrings, Valerie is in some sort of phenomenal Sgt. Pepper blazer, and Josie is in a studded bustier

the drinking game of listening to Mayor McCoy’s speeches for the phrase “my daughter Josie and her Pussycats”

Jughead and FP have what might be their healthiest, most productive conversation in years on either side of the prison bars

Archie, clearly having the time of his life performing his song, strumming his guitar with two fingers

GOD KNOWS JUGHEAD SHOWED UP WITH HIS JACKET OVER HIS SHOULDER TO HEAR HER SPEECH

some first grader is a big fan of Archie

it seems like Betty’s speech is a rerouted, condensed version of her “FP JONES INNOCENT” article imploring Riverdale to embrace its pain, rebirth itself, and get a new town motto

Jughead listening to Betty call him “the very soul of Riverdale” is probably the moment, you know, he was like, The trailer is empty...

oh Jesus he starts the slow clap

can you imagine being an everyday going-about-your-business Riverdale resident without a kid attending high school, only tangentially paying attention to the news, being like, Who is Veronica Lodge? Does Betty Cooper know Jughead? Why is he called Jughead? What?

Fred is damn right about Hermione being at a damn crossroads

Betty, who signed in pink, Veronica, who signed in purple, and Jughead, who signed in black with his crown, are the only signatures on Archie’s cast yet

Veronica and Archie appear to have chocolate milkshakes, while Betty got a vanilla, and Jughead has Betty’s usual strawberry, with her arm slung around his leg

I know you had forgotten about Penelope!!!!!!!!!

Cheryl’s a psychopath: there are no words in Elvish, Entish, or the tongues of men to describe the sight of Cheryl Blossom standing at the fireplace holding a candelabra with a tub of gasoline at the floor, (helpfully labeled “Gasoline”) in a white Super Sailor Moon dress, about to burn down her house

Jughead really did clean that shit up!

in the annals of sexy cinematic history, where Rear Window, Secretary, The Handmaiden, and the 2005 Pride & Prejudice all reside, there is a little shelf space saved for the shot of Jughead, out of focus, pulling his hat off behind Betty’s back and throwing it onto the couch

there were only five minutes left in the whole episode when the heavy percussion started and Jughead LIFTS Betty off the ground by her waist. YOU KNOW!!! SOME PEOPLE ARE ABOUT TO GET LAID!!!!

Veronica and Archie slip into her apartment, her mother is passed out on tranquilizers. THEY’RE REALLY DOING IT THIS TIME, THIS TIME I’M NOT DELUSIONAL

Veronica truly did make a Prince Valiant reference

you know I loved Veronica’s beautiful tiny stockinged feet coming off the ground!

the little shot of Veronica exploring Archie’s chest in the dark, by silhouette, whispering to him, was all I really needed from a sexy Riverdale scene, you know? I was sated. all the happy couples were making out and heading for great things, their first happy nights in so long. like, “We’ve had this date with each other,” etc., everything is finally good. I thought that was THE END. I thought that was the end! I WAS ALREADY HAPPY. I DIDN’T KNOW WE WOULD GET JUGHEAD SLAMMING BETTY INTO THE KITCHEN CABINET. I DIDN’T KNOW!!!!!

only, ONLY Betty and Jughead, even with all that chest exposed between the two of them, they still go for each other’s faces, in, dare I say, a clever reprisal of Archie’s mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, kissing like they want to consume each other

it really has to be seen to be believed, how up in there Jughead is between Betty’s legs, the dimple of his back muscles while he’s kissing her like he’s going to push her through the wall

NO ONE EXPECTED Jughead to hold his hand to the side of Betty’s neck and go down to like BITE her collarbone ONSCREEN, what, like, what the fuck, who blocked this? YOU, LEE TOLAND KRIEGER? A MASTERPIECE

Jughead eats: he brought her to the kitchen. “The cafeteria.” he was planning on eating

poor things Betty and Jughead conditioned to assume it’s Alice Cooper interrupting their heavy petting

Jughead’s hair twanging around his forehead cracks me up

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: TIME Person of the Year LEE TOLAND KRIEGER giving us one last rack focus of the line of lights on top of the trailer, dripping with rain, what else could possible happen in the last two minutes of this episode??? stay tuned bitches!!!

Gay?!: Jughead Devotee Southside Teen is back! WITH SCRAGGLY CANON SHEEPDOG HOT DOG. Jughead is like…...hi…...

mangy gruff Serpent daddy has a nose ring, which is always cool

Best costume bit: though it looks like various interviews has RAS saying otherwise, I didn’t read Jughead putting the Serpent jacket on as an unambiguous, wholehearted, instantaneous joining and acceptance of the Serpents on Jughead’s part, for me it was more a mix of A) a thank-you B) “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad” C) a “trying on” of what it might feel like to maybe live this life D) indulging in a moment of being sought out, validated as a member of a community (complicated! because Betty just called him the soul of Riverdale!) F) Cady slowly realizing she’s the new Queen Bee E) a bomb-ass jacket

of course we know Jughead must be incredibly important to the Serpents, whether he knows it or not, so is this them coming to him and being like, The king is dead, long live the king!, or is he a sideways, sometimes-Serpent, or does he even have to “BE” a “Serpent” for them to still take him a bit under wing and protect him—from whom?—while FP is gone? did FP tell them to leave him alone, what was understood, what was ordered, WHAT IS JUGHEAD? what are any of us? who am I? aren’t we all just going to die? (write this fic for me)

the point is that Jughead looks REAL good shrugging the leather jacket on

Fwoopy hair is the best hair: in the silence, in the rain, and the curl of his bangs on his forehead, YYEEEEESSSSSSSS

with a BOOM shot of the Dark Mark taut on his shoulders, like in the fourth episode when FP walked into frame

Sixth period is Intro to Film: Betty’s “Juggie” from behind the door, and he looks back at her? Godfather reference #2

I KNOW YOU FORGOT CHERYL WAS BURNING DOWN THORNHILL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cheryl’s hair: all of Jughead’s surprise sexual dexterity aside, the greatest moment is the slow-motion shot of Cheryl and Penelope. Cheryl is staring at her work, entranced, okay, having finally been able to take irreversible action to cleanse herself, but Penelope behind her is, understandably, going berserk, and repeat Nobel Laureate LEE TOLAND KRIEGER has her lash out to strike Cheryl, but she’s one step too far back, and there’s an explosion of Cheryl’s hair over her shoulder and it’s got to be one of the most beautiful things ever to be on television

of course Veronica slept in Archie’s dress shirt

the female gaze: Archie’s back is always, always worth it

“Damn good coffee”: oh, he’s so happy in the bathroom mirror

WITH LITERALLY THIRTY SECONDS LEFT IN THE EPISODE, THERE IS AN ARMED ROBBERY OF THE DINER

who would rob Pop’s? is this a hit on Fred Andrews? DID SOMEONE ORDER A HIT ON FRED? JUGHEAD SAID IT WAS “ANYTHING BUT RANDOM,” WHO WOULD KILL FRED ANDREWS????

are you going to sit there and tell me fucking Riverdale hired Luke fucking Perry and then it KILLED OFF LUKE FUCKING PERRY? when the fucking blue neon “RIVERDALE” came up after that, I lost my SHIT. FUCKING RIVERDALE LIKE JESUS CHRIST

next season: full-time student Veronica Lodge finds herself in the midst of a viciously civil power struggle with her father, freed felon Hiram Lodge, over ownership of Andrews Construction, the Pembrooke apartment, half of the town, and the love of her mother. while investigating the true extent of her best friend’s father’s illegal activities for her next exposé, Betty Cooper starts receiving death threats, political pressure to “let the story go,” and mysterious late-night voicemail tips concerning the business dealings of her gangster boyfriend which “might be interesting” to her should she choose to “look closer,” all of which she documents and files in alphabetical order in a fireproof safe beneath her bed (the tips are from her secret brother). Archie Andrews, who is now Batman, must hunt down the masked bandit who killed his father, helped by his best friend Jughead Jones, who, unbeknownst to Archie, has taken his father’s place as the leader of the biggest criminal empire in Riverdale and masterminded a coup for control of the Canadian heroin cartel in Clifford Blossom’s absence to buy Betty as many structured jackets as her heart desires (write this fic for me)

#riverdale #commentary #i say #tropes

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