#off to pack my woolly jumpers...
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Tiny Clouds (Serge Gnabry oneshot)
You need to ban me from here 😂 I don’t know if it’s the fact that I am on my holidays, or if it’s my mum’s homecooked food, but I have been writing and updating more than ever before. Anyway, you should all thank @disneydaddyevans for giving me the idea to write this little piece that is so cheesy, but I couldn’t help myself. Inspired by his fashion sense and the overall cuteness that the man oozes. Read, heart, reblog, and tell me what you think about it. Also, I wasn’t sure if I should use to name for my OC or just “Y/N”, so I stuck with the way I usually write.
“Max… Max—Maximillian,” Dolores hissed quietly, stopping dead in her tracks, barely fifty meters away from where they were heading. “That,” she pointed her index finger at the outside of the Museum of Urban and Contemporary Art with a horror-stricken face, “it doesn’t look like a regular exhibition opening. Look at all the press. Are you sure they will let me come in wearing this?”
“There is nothing wrong with your outfit, Lola,” her friend replied, using her nickname – a deep chuckle escaping his throat. She couldn’t help but glance down at her attire, narrowing her eyes at the worn-out jeans and a woolly pullover she had knitted for herself, some two years ago. It was already losing its shape and growing lint on several spots.
When Maximilian asked if she would like to join him for an exhibition opening, Lola agreed without thinking twice, not expecting to be thrown into the middle of what seemed to be a huge media fuss. If she was being frank, she could have googled what the exhibition was about or what the artist’s name was, but with her long shifts at work and three papers due for her night courses at the university, Lola completely forgot to do so.
“If you say so,” she mumbled back, glancing once again at her outfit – eyes narrowing at the stubborn stain on her Converse high-tops. For a moment she contemplated licking her thumb and trying to rub the dark spot away, but she decided against it once she realised that it was highly unhygienic and probably a very weird thing to do in front of all the people that mingled around her.
It wasn’t like she hated or didn’t like fashion – on contrary, she thought it was fun, but Lola found comfort in being practical rather than being stylish, and the older she got, the more overwhelmed she felt with the fast pace of fashion and trends in general. There were too many terms, too many weird combinations being pushed in the foreground, so she decided that it would be the best for her if she stood on the sidelines of it all like a spectator rather than participant.
“I am being honest,” Max added as she caught up with him and they slowly made their way towards the entrance – camera flashes that tried to capture very important people hurting Lola’s eyes. “Moreover, I think that jumper is incredibly cute with its tiny clouds. Or are those sheep?” Max asked, grinning down at her as he adjusted the collar on his trench-coat.
“Tiny clouds,” Lola remarked, “better than your Inspector Gadget coat though, if you ask me,” she joked back, making her friend laugh out loud before he placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into the crowd.
The main exhibition room wasn’t as packed as Lola had expected it to be, and once they were ushered inside by an artist friend of Max, they made their way around it - slow-paced and without any rush or pressure. They stopped ever so often to read the description, comment or even chuckle on some of the art pieces that they didn’t find very interesting.
Lola had visited the museum only a handful of times before this, but whenever she was here she enjoyed the look and feel of it. From the minimalistic approach to the main rooms and furniture, to the small and narrow hallways that led to different rooms with unique art exhibitions and graffiti on the wall.
“Maximilian!” a deep, mature voice called out from across the large room, and Lola reflexively turned her head in the direction of it before seeing a tall and a lanky man in a pressed suit trousers and white button down striding towards them. She could vaguely recognise his face as one of Max’s artist friends, but she couldn’t remember his name. “Maximilian,” he repeated as he stepped closer, blocking Lola’s view of the art installation in front of them, forcing her to look away from it, “there is someone I want you to meet,” he breathed out as both, Max and Lola curiously peered at him. “He doesn’t have a lot of time, but he plays for your favourite team, so I thought you’d be happy to meet him.”
**
“Maximilian, this is Serge. Serge, this is Maximilian, and…,” the artist friend trailed off, looking down at Lola with an awkward smile, “sorry dear, but I don’t remember your name.”
Lola smiled back nervously, shifting on her feet a little. “Dolores,” she answered, looking first at the man in front of her before glancing at the good-looking athlete only to find him looking back at her curiously, “or Lola for short. Nice to meet you.”
“It’s lovely to meet both of you,” Serge replied politely, sticking both of his hands in the pockets of his wide trousers, and Lola couldn’t help but glance at his well-put outfit that looked very expensive and taken care of. “Are you an artist too?” Serge asked looking in Maximillian’s direction.
“No, no,” Max replied, mimicking Serge’s posture, “just enthusiast. By the way, great season with the team...”
Next to them, Lola was wringing the exhibition brochure she picked up on the entrance in her sweaty palms - bits of the paper sticking to her skin. She wasn’t shy or easily intimidated by other people, but there was something about being in the crowd that made one stick out like a sore thumb with her outfit. It was turning her into a nervous wreck even if she didn’t want that.
Having Serge Gnabry in front of her didn’t help either.
“And what about you, Lola?”
Lola felt her heartbeat quicken at the sound of Serge’s voice saying her name, and when she looked up at him, slightly confused, he had a gentle smile on his face, patiently waiting for her answer. His brown eyes were focused on her face and her eyes, and she suddenly felt at loss of words.
“Lola is not an artist either, but an avid knitter instead,” Max interjected with a grin, and Lola looked away from Serge’s eyes and up at her friend – her eyes narrowing a little. “She’s once knitted an entire winter scarf on her way to Hamburg,” he added as Lola felt the heat rise to her cheeks, but she managed to push it away casually.
“It was a nice scarf, though,” Lola sheepishly smiled, feeling the insides of her stomach flip excitedly when Serge chuckled before the silence fell upon the three of them. To keep her thoughts straight, she looked down at her smudged Converse, knowing that Serge probably waited for her to elaborate or keep the conversation going. The only problem was that her mind was blank, her palms sweaty, and all the words she wanted to say seemed to be stuck inside her throat. “I real—really enjoy knitti—,”
“—Serge!” a middle-aged woman wearing a shapeless dress and thick, white-rimmed glasses approached them in a hurry, interrupting Lola in the middle of her sentence. “We have Thibaut from Revver magazine outside. It would be lovely if you could just answer few questions for him.” The woman sent an apologetic smile towards Lola, and Lola only smiled back weakly, not really knowing what else to do.
She looked away to mask her disappointed for ruining her chance of talking to Serge, not noticing the lingering gaze he gave her before he walked away.
**
An hour into the evening, Lola found herself walking along one of the walls covered in graffiti on her own after Max excused himself to go outside for a “much needed smoke”. Rather than just standing alone and waiting for her friend to come back, Lola continued to walk along the painted walls before seeing another room that was adjacent to the main room, and which seemed to be empty.
Smiling at the several people who quietly talked among themselves outside, Lola pushed her way inside, quickly being mesmerized by the colours and style of the art that occupied the tiny space she was in. It was a collection of the tall yet narrow murals – each one describing a different story that captivated Lola’s curiosity, and she found herself forgetting about the time.
“You don’t like to talk much, do you?”
Lola looked in the direction of the voice before shyly smiling once she realised it was Serge who stood behind her. Quickly, she looked away, feeling her cheeks redden at his words. He moved closer, stepping mere few meters away from her before interlacing his fingers behind his back as he observed the same mural as she did – his lips curled into small smile.
Lola breathed out a short breath before opening her mouth to speak. “It’s actually difficult to shut me up once I get started, but I easily get intimidated around people who…,” she trailed off, unsure in how to phrase her ridiculous insecurities, “nevermind,” she finished, glancing towards Serge for a brief second.
“Are you intimidated by flesh and blood, Lola?” he asked before stopping for a second, “That’s your name, right?”
She nodded, stepping closer to the wall, reaching out to touch it, as if that would help her figure out what kind of materials did they use for it.
“Flesh and blood in trendy, expensive clothes. I will be honest with you,” Lola shook her head a little, pointing at the large museum room where the actual exhibition was presented, “I felt so out of place over there, so I came here.”
“Well, maybe they are expensive,” Serge commented with an amused smirk, “but how many of us are actually wearing a knitted pullover we made ourselves. That’s the real style, if you ask me.”
Lola felt the warmth evade her face yet again as she moved away from the wall, straightening her back and looking at him. “How do you know I knitted it?”
“Pure guess,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “Did I guess right?”
“Yeah,” Lola admitted, “And these are tiny clouds, by the way, not sheep,” she quickly added making Serge chuckle a little. “It’s the confidence and courage,” she muttered, and Serge muttered a small ‘mhmm’, urging her to continue. “I wish I had the courage to experiment a bit more. For example, I like what you are wearing. It’s very,” Lola stopped for a moment, thinking of the word to use for his immaculate outfit, “…fashionable.”
Serge laughed a little at her words, and she curiously peered up at him, waiting for him to speak.
“I don’t think there is anything wrong with what you are wearing,” he responded, looking down at her, “but here…” he trailed off as he turned around to face her before untying the neckerchief he was wearing around his neck and holding it out for her. “May I?” he asked, taking a step closer, and Lola felt her heart start beating faster because of his proximity but she nodded slowly. Serge nodded as well before putting the scarf around her neck, tying it in a loose knot. “There you go,” he mumbled.
Lola smiled, looking down at his hands as he adjusted the ends of the scarf, folding them so that they sat nicely against the curve of her neck.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, touching the neckerchief with her fingers – the silky material soft against her skin.
“Now you’re wearing something fashionable,” Serge commented, emphasizing the word ‘fashionable’ with air-quotes.
“Fashionable, I guess,” Lola smirked, “but you should take it back. It feels so wrong to wear it,” she added with a small and nervous laugh.
“Wear it tonight, and you can give it back to me some other time,” Serge replied, sticking his hands in the pockets of his loose trousers, turning around so that he was facing the wall again. “That’s if you want to meet up, of course.”
Lola was quiet for a moment, trying to stop the butterflies in her stomach from going crazy, but she couldn’t stop the smile that made its way on her face.
“I do,” she answered, moving so that she was standing next to him – her eyes trying to focus on the tiny details on the mural. “I do want to meet up.”
They stood next to each other in silence for a few seconds – neither of them looking away from the wall. “Friday maybe? Sunday afternoon works too. We don’t have to dress up.”
“Friday works for me,” Lola answered, “but if we wait on Sunday you might get a pair of knitted mittens as a thank you gift for making me look,” she stopped to raise her hands in air-quotes, “fashionable.”
“Only if they come with tiny clouds,” he stated, looking at her at the same time as she looked up at him.
“If you want,”
Serge nodded – his eyes never leaving hers. “Then it’s Sunday afternoon.”
“It is,” Lola nodded.
“Perfect.”
**
Thank you for reading, and this really needs some editing. I apologise.
#serge gnabry#bayern munich#football fanfic#football fanfiction#football imagine#serge gnabry imagine#serge gnabry fanfiction#football oneshot#bayern munich fanfiction#german nt
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BTS HC - Lockdown
In which each BTS member lives with y/n
I’m hoping these imagines might lighten the mood for anyone who might be feeling a bit lonely right now.
Please see the end of post first if you need some context or wish to see the notes
RM
Has good balance of me time and us time
steps back when you both need space
sitting in the back yard on some chair reading a book
taking in the sun
The restrictions don’t hinder him from making sure you both get plenty of sun and fresh air
it isn’t much but in week 1, he gave the back yard a little tidy up
turned it into a place to chill out
so there aren’t any flower planted or decor
but it makes all the difference
there’s chairs, a table and a parasol
to you, this is perfect
Spot of tea under cooler weather
or orange juice under the sun
Board games at the table in the back yard
you tried cards once out there but even just the slightest breeze...
“Goddammit!!!”
The card games are for when it rains
or for when neither of you quite feel like going out today
He swears you’re cheating at UNO
you swear he’s just really bad at it
turns out he keeps saving those wild 4 draw cards too long
which you gather over his last 3 rage quits
because he just slings the cards, revealing them to you
“You play it too safe” you tell him
so he plays it a bit less safe
“Yes! Finally I won!”
“OH! Look at that!” you smile
he smiles back because of how proud you...
“...it’s sunny again!”
‘Goddammit y/n...’
Shopping trips together
not so helpful when the rules get stricter
“One adult at a time please...”
oh dear
who goes in?
so you go in
“Crap! Namjoon has the shopping list!”
this period of time really shows how you complete each other
pretty much every day you each think
“what would I do without him/her?”
Random talks
he tells you about this one book he read
and now you want to read it
so you do
and you can’t take your eyes off it
you find a new love for reading
so sometimes when you both need me time
you remain in the same room, just reading a book each
Every day you feel enlightened
almost sad at the thought of going back to normal life
because you won’t have as much time for yourself
Jin
Everyone is suddenly having the time to cook from scratch
imagine Jin’s frustration since he did this all along
so when certain things he usually gets aren’t in stock
“Oh for crying out loud!”
you sometimes have to calm him down when shopping
and since only 1 adult in at a time it’s like a really awkward phone call
you’re just stood outside alone like
“For Christ’s sake Jin! Calm down!”
but he makes every meal taste great anyway
“Sorry it doesn’t have the usual...”
“Jin, please!” you reply
because it’s still really yummy because
“you’re still the best cook in the world, okay?”
“Okay fine...” he sighs “Thank you”
can I just add here food is the only time you both get hysterical at each other
He still low key hoard particular ingredients when he FINALLY can get them
and you have to explain how irrational he’s being
“We don’t need SIX tubes of tomato puree!”
“Jin... How are we going to use up all THIS fruit and veg before it goes off?”
But he’s not selfish, no
if he’s in a shop and sees someone elderly, he helps them out
“Would you like me to reach that for you?”
“Do you need any toilet paper? There’s 2 packs left - here”
“Here’s my number; let me know if you need me to run any errands for you”
ahh you’re lucky to be living with such a gentleman
Daily walks in the park to feed the ducks
“This is the best kind of exercise” he tells you “...relaxed and where you can connect with nature”
some of the ducks at the beginning of the lockdown are a bit nutty
Jin may or may not be low key scared of that one goose
“I swear it’s giving me the evils”
it may or may not have chased him the second day in
“Wahhhhhh!!!”
*Jin running away in the distance*
You cooked for him that evening
“Honey, I don’t know how to put this...”
“Aw sweetie it’s okay about what happened in the park; I mean you were the one holding the bread and...”
“oh no no” he replies. “this meal is awful”
r00d
but it’s okay
you knew the minute you offered to make dinner it wasn’t going to turn out well
so you both agree the kitchen will be his space to work his magic in during lockdown
and he somehow gets better than he already is at cooking
just woowwww
foodgasm
but neither of you get podgy
Lazy exercises together
chair exercises watching the tv
small periods of jogging in the woods
“oh wow, what’s that?”
you come across some random squirrel
and all of a sudden trips to the park for that daily walk
it turns into a nature watch
bird watching
luckily he forgets about the angry goose
Sometimes talking about what you miss
and then promising to do all of those things when everything is back to normal
so many plans
and it helps you both stay optimistic
because you just created a bunch of stuff to look forward to
Suga
Late night movie marathons
and accidentally getting into a routine of late mornings late nights
Cooking together
because neither of you want to do it
but someone has to
can’t live on instant food for all this time
Night time walks
less people, less danger
please don’t yell at me if we’re not supposed to do this in real life I haven’t actually been out that late during lockdown hahaha
it’s only around a few blocks
but deep talks, you know
There may not be much room in the back garden
but you have a ball and a hoop
basketball together
he teaches you to shoot better
“yes! I did it!”
*he hugs you from behind*
sorry that was gay
He’s actually quite chill about the whole lockdown situation
almost like he forgets the circumstances sometimes
“I think I might nip down to _____’s house today...”
“Uh, Yoongi, remember?”
“Oh yeah”
Detective series marathons too
the two of you trying to figure out whodunnit
sometimes even low key bets or light arguments if you disagree
a mildly sore loser when you’re correct
smug af when he is correct
Evenings lounging in the back yard with the drink of your choice
some quiet music on
random hypothetical conversations and questions about life
“what if...”
“what happened to...”
“don’t you think that cloud looks like a goldfish?”
Board games that keep the brain stimulated
why is he so good at scrabble
you can’t recall a game you’ve won
but no monopoly
not after the last time
“I want a divorce!”
“We’re not married”
“Yet”
tbf you might as well be an old married couple
because there’s those films you just watch over and over
close to unlocking the power of mind reading
“want a cup of tea?”
“omg I was about to ask that”
Some days you get on each other’s nerves a little though
so you each occupy yourselves with little chores
and even though you weren’t in the mood to do anything together
you’ve just made the house look great in a day as a team
and you’ve got everything you need just in time for dinner
“I’m proud of us”
“I’m proud of us too”
J-Hope
Picnics in the back garden
much better than one in the park though
there’s no packing involved
there’s cushions
sometimes low key fine dining
your favourite is the one evening picnic the other day
you had been shopping alone for the essentials
and he wanted to surprise you
he had set up a makeshift table out of a few old crates
did the cooking
the pasta dish was lovely
there was even dessert
okay the dessert was M&S
fairy lights
seriously you swear you weren’t out for that long how did he manage all of this so fast?
wine
staring at the stars
and there were blankets too
dozing off until early hours of the morning
finally coming indoors at like 2am
sleeping in til noon oops haha
then binge watching some random show together
and now it’s your new favourite
For some reason you have a big stock of popcorn
watching any old crap on the TV as an excuse to eat it
like there’s 3 films on this afternoon that sound shite
but you’re going to watch them all anyway
and the third one is actually really good
more popcorn more films
“we should probably go out at some point...”
whoops it’s been like 4 days now
and now it’s raining damn
fuck it, you go out anyway
dancing in the rain in an empty park
followed by shivering on the walk home
he gets in the shower first
but then runs a lovely hot bath for you
candles, bubble bath, the works
just so you can have some relaxing time to yourself
so thoughtful
lockdown doesn’t mean needing to compromise on showing you love each other
Jimin
You’re not quite sure how you got pulled into this
but Jimin decided to make use of his YouTube following
Virtual dance classes
and fun little exercise sessions for all the family
He does the dance classes solo
but he loves to flaunt you to the world even in lockdown
“Today joining me for this session... my lovely significant other, y/n!”
at first you felt uncertain and a little conscious
but thanks to Jimin your confidence grew
He helps you stay positive during a tough time
and you even feel like your self improvement has been going amazingly well
he even inspires you to make your own channel
to show the world what you love; [insert hobby/interest here]
people love the both of you
they go to Jimin’s channel to keep fit and happy
and your channel just fills them with joy
But not everything revolves around the virtual world
Care packages for all of your friends
food and other essentials get mailed to the ones that lost their jobs
and for the ones still working, a bundle of stuff for their mental well being
and a little drawing with rainbow colours in each
and a positive message
Woolly jumpers, cushions and hot chocolate
sweater paws
Sometimes in the evening you doze off
like you fall asleep just as you are
and you wake up to the smell of food and a blanket over you
Sometimes you miss your friends
and Jimin hates to see you down
so he organises a big surprise
his hands over your eyes as he walks you into the living room
“surprise!” you hear over the laptop
and then Jimin hands you some gifts
he asked them all a few days ago to send you something meaningful
and your heart just melts
and you may or may not cry a little in front of your friends on the video call
you just have to do something in return so
You make the living room all nice whilst he’s making a video in the garden
wow you’re actually quite proud
the lighting is just right
the improv decor is actually somewhat aesthetic
“Honey, why’s it so dull in here..... Woah, what’s this?”
“Dinner’s ready” you smile
and you have a gift for him too
you can’t wipe the smile off his face when he sees it
a scrapbook of memories between you and him
which you look through after eating
“We’re going to make more memories like this once this blows over”
V
Lots of online socialising
Calls with his friends
which you always end up being a part of in the background with your commentaries
Cute online double dates with Jimin and/or your best friend
Will try everything and anything to kill the boredom
“look what I found in the bargain bin at the supermarket!”
“Tae, I’m not really sure I’m in the mood to take up crocheting...”
but actually it turns out to be more fun that you thought
he has his little ways of making everything fun
one day you guys just find some random paints in a cupboard
and WOW
he’s so good at it
such beautiful landscapes
Makes sure that you both maintain some sort of routine
“best make sure we have an early night lovely”
“why? it’s not like there’s much to do tomorrow”
but no matter how sceptical you may be at times
he’s determined to be your sunshine
he helps you stay sane
makes everything sound productive
“because tomorrow we are going to make a playlist for when we walk, feed the ducks, go shopping, learn how to make a new dish...”
makes you a cup of tea just because
or breakfast in bed
the perfect companion
caring about even the people he can’t physically be with
“we haven’t heard from _____ in a while; we should drop a phone call or something”
but it isn’t just a phone call
it’s also a letter in the mail a few days later
plus a painting for the close friends
Dressing up really formal for a home date
3 course meal, courtesy of the microwave
then a slow dance in the living room
always the romantic
“tonight was amazing... will I see you again?”
“you are terrible Tae, you really are!”
such a joker
he keeps you smiling through it all
Jungkook
Tries to get you to go on daily jogs with him
“Can’t I just walk?”
“Come on, y/n; get those endorphins running through you!”
you try like once
*wheezing*
nope
Nintendo switch
Not that I have one welp
I can just imagine it okay
Lots of active games
thrashes you at Wii Sports Tennis
but you whoop his ass at Bowling
he does most of the shopping
so that he can go for a jog first
and also so he’s not out too often in any one day, two birds one stone and all that
Doesn’t quite always get the shopping list right….
“Jungkook?”
“Yes?”
“I wrote 1-2 bananas… You’ve brought back 12”
blames your handwriting
Small bits of banter like this keep you both sane
and he eats all those bananas in like 2 days
“What? There was no cereal in the shop”
someone teach this boy to cook please
*brings back like a crate load of instant noodles*
at least it means you’ve come up with something to pass the time
teaching Jungkook some basic meals
maybe beginning with breakfast first thing in the morning wasn’t the best idea
“Jungkook! I said keep an eye on it!”
“I did”
and he literally just watched the bacon burn instead of regularly flipping it over
bless
Singing to you whilst snuggling on the couch
bliss
meme-y dances before bed time
like you’ll be sat in bed maybe watching tv / reading
and something moves in the corner of your eye
oh my word Jungkook
*insert all the meme-y dances you have even seen him do*
the biggest dork
can’t stop laughing at his own silliness afterwards
jumps into the bed and puts his head on your shoulder
falls asleep like this quite fast
well you aren’t surprised since he’s always so energetic
Small campfires in the back garden
the best marshmallows you’ve ever had
and it’s so much fun
campfire stories
usually people have a guitar around the fire
not Jungkook though, no
*serenades you with a ukulele purposely singing out of tune*
has you in stitches
people in the neighbouring houses hear the laughter and some think it’s insensitive to be laughing so much
but seriously, if you can’t laugh, what can you do?
So I thought I’d make a post around the strange times many of us are living in. Whilst I get that some readers may not be in a situation like mine (UK) so a quick bit of context for you even though I made the location / country ambiguous in my writing. The circumstances explained in the imagines though are of course based on my experiences in England.
Right now, we are limited in what we do; only essential shops are open, (supermarkets, pharmacies, etc,) the country is being advised to go out as little as possible, (only for food shopping, medical reasons and exercise,) social gatherings aren’t allowed, our death rate has been increasing due to the virus (even our prime minister has it,) and our NHS is overwhelmed - currently more than 10,000 being treated as I’m listening to the news and writing this note.
I hope everyone is staying safe and doing the right thing by staying indoors and maintaining social distancing.
#ps sorry some are longer imagines than others#bts#bts fiction#bts headcanons#bts headcanon#bts fic#bts imagines#bts fanfic#namjoon#rm#kim namjoon#seokjin#jin#kim seokjin#yoongi#suga#min yoongi#hoseok#jhope#jung hoseok#jimin#park jimin#bts jimin#v#bts v#taehyung#kim taehyung#jungkook#jeon jungkook#bts fluff
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Lodge Fever
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader
Summary: Stranded in an airport after all flights were cancelled due to a blizzard on Christmas Eve, Y/N and the rest of all the passengers is sent to a lodge down the road, as it’s pact she is forced to make conversation with people in hopes of a room, that’s where she meets a CEO and they hit it of straight away.
Word Count: 1,925
Warning: Fluff, like 1 swear
“All flights are cancelled” the speakers announce, you glances around as people groan and stand up, packing up there things to find somewhere to stay for the night, sighing you drags your suitcase along side you and rip out your phone from your coat pocket and placing it between your shoulder and ear, holding it in place.
The phone rings twice before you hear my sisters voice, “hey what’s up? Are you on the flight? Are you safe?” She asks multiple times, not even giving you chance to answer as a small smile etches onto your face.
“Y/S/N I’m okay but my flights been cancelled, there’s a blizzard” You groans down the phone as you start walking and you grab your backpack and slings it onto your back, walking along with your suitcase in tow.
“You’re going to miss christmas!” She cries out, making you frown at the sound of your sister who you hasn’t seen since last Christmas.
You chews on the inside of your mouth, feeling bad about rarely seeing your family and now you can’t even celebrate Christmas with them due to you always being so busy with work and making sure you can pay rent, “I’m sorry Y/S/N, I’ll try and get on the first flight out” you mumbles, trying to cheer Y/S/N up a little bit, knowing how devastated she is.
They say there goodbyes and you hang up and shoves your phone back into your pocket and talk to a airport employee. She points you in the direction of the lodge down the road as you nod and walk out of the airport, stressed.
Snow blankets the land surrounding you, and falls heavily. You shiver, slipping your woolly mittens onto your hand and woolly, bobbly hat onto your head, sniffling through your dripping nose you made your way down the white hill to the lodge.
——————————————————————————
You sigh in relief as your body was engulfed with heat as soon as you stepped foot into the lodge, tramping on the door mat to rid your shoes of the snow attached to them you pull your gloves off and rub your hands together, blowing into them.
The room is packed with stranded passengers, the lodge and the hotel which is a bit further away being packed with them.
You walk up to the counter and talks to the polite woman behind it, “please tell me you have a spare room” You smile kindly as she looks at the elder woman.
“I’m sorry Miss, all the rooms are taken” she frowns and looks at you as you groan under your breath, not mad at the woman, but mad at yourself for not coming here quicker.
“Please I’ll stay anywhere, even on the couch” You mumble, becoming desperate as you glances around the lodge, the scent of pine cones and cinnamon filling your nose as you smile softly.
“There’s a couch in the lounge area, I guess you could stay on there but I don’t recommend it” she states, glancing at the couch that is used for people who sit downstairs in groups and talks but you shrug, “it’ll be fine, I promise” you smile and walk over to it, dumping your bag and suitcase by the side of it and sigh, rubbing your arm.
You run your hand through your hair as you walks over to the bar and sits on a stool, already knowing that tonight is going to be a tiring and uncomfortable night as you order yourself a drink.
You look around at the Christmas decorations that are colour coordinated with red, green and silver, the lodge feels homely and inviting, the lights are warm as they light up the whole lodge, yoi now only realise how big this place actually is as your eyes widen slightly.
You feel a presence beside you, the deep voice ordering himself a beer, the bartender places the cocktail beside you as your gaze is wandering around the room, taking in every little detail. The man beside you hands the bartender money for both your drinks, smirking to himself as he watches you keep your gaze on the tree not even realising your drink is behind you. He clears his throat from behind you and you swivel round, your eyes widening slightly as piercing blue eyes gazed into Y/E/C eyes, his long chestnut hair pulled back into a low man bun on his neck, a scruff scattering along his jaw and neck and his suit tie is slightly pulled down for him to find comfort in it, a small smirk playing on his lips as you snap your gaze away from him.
“Oh shit” you mumbles and scrambled through your purse to pull some money out to pay for your drink, his large hand placed over yours, stopping you in your tracks, “don’t worry about it doll, I took care of it whilst you were zoned out” he says, his voice full of confidence as you rub your hands together, slowly starting to fill with anxiety.
“Oh urm, t-thank you” you manage to get out as you keep your gaze focused on the whirling liquid in the cocktail glass, he pulls his hand away quickly.
“Seems as though I bought you a drink, I think I at least deserve a name to match this gorgeous woman in front of me” a flush of pink tints your cheeks at the compliment and you can’t help a small smile that spreads across your lips.
“Y/N, what about you?” You ask, your gaze slowly lifting to look at the handsome man again as you takes a swig of her drink, trying to drink your anxieties away again to make conversation with him.
“You have a beautiful name, I’m James, but you can call me Bucky” he smirks and glances you up and down to take in your outfit of grey joggers with a Harry Potter hogwarts jumper with the printing of Slytherin and the green colours for that house, you chose comfy clothes to wear for the flight as he admires how adorable you look in this state.
You giggle, the noise sounding angelic and music to his ears, “I’m sorry about how I look, I was trying to stay warm and comfy on the flight” you smile apologetically, feeling under dressed as he’s in a suit.
“Where were you headed?” Bucky asks the girl in front of him, slowly becoming intrigued with the mysterious girl in the Harry Potter hoodie.
“I was heading home to New York for Christmas with my family” you sighs, the feeling of guiltyness settling into the pit of your stomach as you remember your sisters sadness, glancing back down at your hands.
“Oh right” he nods slightly, “I just finished a meeting and was heading back to New York to go back to work then go home to spend Christmas alone” he chuckles as he looks at you again.
“That’s sounds boring” you laugh softly, glancing at his hands and realising they are covered in thick, black gloves as you raises your head and looks at him.
“Yeah, but I guess I’ll have to do my work here” he chuckles and runs his hand through his hair, making sure not to make too much movement with his other hand, the real reason he hasn’t taken of the gloves.
He may be a CEO, and extremely wealthy but his metal arm still makes him self conscious, too much movement and the metal plates will clink together, he’s learnt that the hard way, Bucky may be extremely grateful for being able to move it properly but it’ll never take away the fear in people’s eyes when they see it.
You smile softly at him, the sight alone could light up a whole room as a weird fluttering feeling pits itself in his lower stomach, “how long do you reckon we’ll be trapped here?” You asks him, talking to him making you feel better.
“Probably a couple days with how heavy the snow is” he chuckles, admiring the short, quiet girl in front of him, you aren’t like the rest of the girls he’s met that just throws themselves at him at the sight of the slight bit of money on show, usually from his watch or clothing, you were different and he already loved that.
——————————————————————————-
You giggle, your fourth cocktail in your hand, your body has loosen up as you talk to the man in front of you, Bucky Barnes, they shared story after story about their lives as they slowly get to know each other, and you yawns making him glance at you.
“Where’s your room? Let me take you, you look exhausted” he chuckles and tries to hold you up as you grin, and get up wobbly, stumbling into his broad chest, your face resting against his chest and your hand holding onto his shirt for support pointing over at the couch in the lounge room.
“There” you mumble, slurring the one word answer as his eyebrows scrunch up in confusion, why is she on a couch? He asks himself, until it finally hits him and he realises how busy the lodge actually is.
He sighs and holds you up as he grabs your bags in his metal hand, his flesh hand wrapped around your waist tightly, “you aren’t staying down here” he mumbles, carrying you up to the best room in the place, his room.
As he walks in the warmth of the fire places hits him again, the scent of lavender wafts into his nose as he smiles at your state, rosy red cheeks from the alcohol and your once sort of tamed hair was now a mess as you glance up at him through hooded eyes.
Bucky walks over to his bed and places you on the bed, you rip the covers back and crawl under the covers, cuddling the covers tight to your small frame. He smiles and places your stuff down, grabbing some pillows to place on the floor, your smiles etching into a frown.
“What’re you doing?” You pout as you watch him make a makeshift bed on the floor.
“Making a bed, I didn’t want to make up uncomfortable” he shrugs and unbuttons his shirt, grabbing a comfy one from his bag.
Your eyes widen as they trace down his chest to his abs that follows his snail trail down past the waist band on his trousers, he slips on the shirt and quickly ride himself of his trousers and pulls some grey joggers on, you don’t even realise how he’s still kept his metal arm hidden as he pulls a hoodie on and puts a glove on.
“Stay with me, on the bed” you pout and pull the covers back for him, “please keep me warm” you whine as he chuckles.
“Are you sure?” He asks, uncertainty spread across his facial features as she watches you closely.
You nod and smile as he gives in and sits on the bed and props himself up against the headboard, pulling his laptop out and placing it on his lap and you scoot closer to him, cuddling into his side and resting your eyes.
Bucky looks at the time and smiles, “merry Christmas Y/N” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from your face as he admires you, having fallen asleep on his chest.
He uses his free, metal hand to write out some emails, his other hand holding you close and playing with your hair.
This was definetly the best Christmas Eve ever
#bucky imagines#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky#bucky imagine#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes#the winter solider x reader#the winter solider imagine#the winter soldier#winter soldier#white wolf
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In love with my brothers best friend part 2
Reader x FP imagine
Summary: part two off the story where Y/N and FP carry on dating, she decides to surprise him with coming to live in Riverdale.
Y/N POV
I smile as I look through all my stuff as I pack it into boxes today I am moving to riverdale I have got my own little flat just inbetween the Southside and the Northside so I am close to both Fred and FP. I smile as I look through the photo from one of my first dates with FP when I had come back home.
It was the weekend after I had come back home after seeing Fred, FP had called me to say to get ready he will be here in 30 minutes and dress warm. I went to put on my jeans and a nice top with boots. I put on my woolly coat as I zipped it up and waiting for FP to arrive. We have been texting all the time since I left whenever he text I feel butterflies in my stomach from nervous, excitement and love. I smile as I hear the recognisable noise from FP motor bike I walk out the house locking the door, I look up at FP in black jeans a black jumper and his serpent jacket. I smile as he looks more handsome than ever as he takes off his helmet I walk over and wrap my arms around his neck as he has now moved so he's leaning on his motorbike. I kiss him as I feel him kiss back I close my eyes I miss this feeling, I feel sparks fly as we kiss, the kiss starts to heat up so I pull away resting my head on his forehead.
“Did you miss me “ he says smirking, I smile and nod “I sure did”. I smile as he lets go off me and gets on his motorbike, he gives me his helmet I put it on then I get on behind him. I wrap my arms tightly around his waist as he starts the engine and we start going to where I don't know. After five minutes we arrive at this hill he helps me take my helmet and leads me by pulling my hand up the small hill as he carries a basket. Fp let goes of my hand and gets a blanket out of his basket and lays it on the floor. He smiles and looks at me “my lady” he says as he gestures me to sit down. I chuckle and sit down on the matt. He smiles as he sits next to me on my right side. He starts to get all these picnic foods. I smile as he pulls out a bottle of red wine and some plastic cups. He pours me a drink passing it to me.
I smile as we talk about how this week has been he says “its weird Ive missed you and I don't even know you for long but now meeting you I feel like I can't live without you, I feel so protective but when your not here I'm in overload”. I smile grabbing his hand “I feel the same way” giving it a little squeeze. As we have finished eating the food and put it all in the basket we lie down on the blanket. I place my head on his chest and rest my hand there too. I look up at him smiling we talk for hours till its time to go as its getting late.
We drive back to mine when we get there I get off giving him his helmet he straight away pulls me close and kisses me. I kiss back as I wrap my hands around his neck. His hands travel down to my ass as he rests it there as we keep kissing. I sigh pulling away “ as much as I want to stay out here with you its getting cold do you want to come in or are you going home?” I ask. He smiles looking down into my eyes, “ I can't its getting late I don't like going on long journey on my motorbike late more accidents happen then”. I sigh and nod “ unless you want to stay the night?” I ask, He smiles and nods “sure” I smile leading him inside.
I smile as I move all the stuff that I packed to the front door, the delivery guys take most of it I have the essentials in my car and the valuables. I smile thinking about that night thats when our relationship started. We kept talking and meeting I would go see him for the day, he would come to see me and most of the time he would stay the night. A couple of months ago he asked me to be his girlfriend it was quite cute he did it in pops where the first time we met. I smile as I get in my car driving to riverdale, I had an interview at the hospital in riverdale and got the job as a children's nurse. I smile happy that Im going to be closer to my brother and my nephew but also be close to FP who doesn't know I'm moving to riverdale.
I get to riverdale parking my car outside my new flat I smile getting out to meet my estate agent who gives me the keys. I go in and put a few stuff in which I brought in my car, I decide to go find FP. I get out and drive to FP trailer I have been their once when FP son wasn't there. I notice his motorbike isn't there so I don't think he's in but I'm going to knock anyway. I knock on the trailer door and no one answers I don't know where FP is Ill go and check the Whyte Wyrm if he isn't there then Ill phone him.
I drive to the Whyte Wyrm as I get out I walk into the bar looking around to see if I can spot FP he was no where in sight, I decide to go and ask at the bar. As I walk over I see everybody staring at me it seems like they were wondering if I was lost probably think I don't belong here. I get to the bar “what can I get you” the bar maid asked “I've come to see FP is he here Ive just been to his trailer and he wasn't there ”. She smiles slightly and nods “I recognise you” she says “your FP girl he's upstairs ill go get him” she says I smile “thank you can you not tell him I want to surprise him” I say she nods and goes and gets him.
I smile sitting on the stool as I wait for him to come down. I watch the stairs looking for him all the guys around me that hadn't seen me before keep watching me. I smile as I see FP “this better be good Toni I'm really busy” he says to her as he walks through all the people. As he gets closer he notices me and he starts to smile as he rushes over. He grabs me and pulls me close “your here Y/N why did I forget our date” he asks resting his head on the top of my head as I hug him. “no I've just come to surprise you I actually have something to tell you” I say looking up at him he still has his hands wrapped around my waist. I wrap my hands around his neck resting my arms on his shoulder “I'm moved in to a house just on the Northside near the outskirts of the Southside” I say. He smiles wide “thats great” he says and kisses me. He pulls me outside “lets go there now” I smile and drive us to my new flat.
He smiles closing the door as I show him the flat he smiles “this is great news your like ten minute walk away” he smiles pulling me close as he kisses me. As things get heated I lead him to my bedroom. He closes the door and slams me against it kissing me roughly I wrap my legs around his waist as he leads me to my bed and lies me down. He hovers over me “I'm so glad your here I missed you” as he keeps kissing me.
Later were lying on my bed my head is on his chest he smiles kissing my forehead. He smiles as he wraps his arms tighter around me, “ I love you” he says I smile looking up at him “I love you too” I says as I kiss him. when things were heating back up with FP his phone rings he sighs ignoring it first. He leaves kisses all over my neck travelling down as his phone starts ringing again I reach for it and it says Gladys “stop FP its Gladys it might be important” I say as FP has told me all about his wife and that Jughead went off with Archie. He takes the phone and answers it. “Gladys what do you want” he says angrily, “yes ill come get him” He says , “ill tell Fred as well “ he says I frown its got to be about Jughead and Archie. He hangs up and looks down at me. “Jughead and Archie are with her they got into some trouble she sorted it out but she wants them to come home so she's told me to come there “ I nods “thats good at least we know where he is Ill phone Fred and tell him were coming to go see them” I say as we get up and get dressed.
We arrive at Fred's where we decide that we only need to take one car so I decide to drive. I drive up to where Jughead and Archie are FP sitting next to me in the front and Fred in the back who brought the dog. As we get there I get out the car leaning against the bonnet as both FP and Fred go in. I can see them I can see FP stood opposite a women which I presume is his wife and daughter. I smile when they look over at me I can't hear what they are saying, Fred is stood in between me and FP waiting for Archie to come out. FP looks over “Y/N” he shouts gesturing me to come over I sigh nervously as I walk past Fred towards FP standing next to him as he wraps his hand around me resting it on my hip. I smile as FP says “JB this is Y/N my girlfriend” he says I smile “nice to meet you “ I say. she smiles slightly Gladys frowns she's just about to say something then Archie and Jughead come out FP drops his hand.
“Auntie Y/N what you doing here “ Archie says I smile as I give him a hug “your dads over there “ I point to him as Archie has run over. Jughead walks over confused “dad who's this “ he says before FP goes to speak Gladys speaks first “its his new girlfriend” she says frustrated. Jughead gives me a weak smile “my names Y/N nice to meet you I've heard all about you” I say as I offer my hand for him to shake which he does. I rest against FP as he talks to Jughead and JB. I smile as I listen to them after about five minutes we better go, FP gives JB a hug and I smile as she gives me one too as we walk back to my car where Fred and Archie are talking. Fred tells me that Archie is going he gives him the dog he hugs us all then walks away. We watch him walk away and then I drive us back home.
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I Dream of Colder Skies
Anti left the house, toast in his mouth and rucksack balanced on one arm until Doc corrected him.
"You'll hurt your back otherwise."
Anti took the toast out of his mouth. "Yeah, thanks da- Doc." Anti went red in the face at his slip up.
Doc smiled, "Dad is fine, I've gotta take Robbie to the dentist, see you kid."
"Yeah, bye do- dad, bye Robbie." Anti smiled, heading down the street and turning towards school. Aiming to meet Marvin and Chase along the way.
The day was rather chilly and Anti had decided to put a thick jumper on. He had debated a woolly hat for his ears but in the end decided against the idea.
"Anti!"
"Morning guys, how was the skate park Chase?" Anti quickened his pace until he was at the street corner with them and then they ambled along together.
"Alright, Bing brought his robot of a boyfriend."
"Google right? The straight A's kid who hoods himself superior?"
"The very one." Chase said, Anti muttered 'prick' and the other two snickered before Chase went on, "He spent the entire time warning us how dangerous skating is, I mean, we all worry but loosen up man."
Anti grinned, "Bet you and Bing couldn't even get him on roller blades."
"He sat doing homework and watching us."
Anti smiled, looking over at Marvin, "you alright dude?"
Marv nodded, "Yeah, thanks for yesterday."
"Yesterday? What happened?" Chase looked over and Marvin shook his head.
"Don't worry yourself."
"Marvy, come on, how long have we been friends."
"Five years, give or take."
"Have I ever been mean to you?" Chase said, Anti wasn't so sure on the wording bit Marvin rolled his eyes.
"Chase, you tease me about witchcraft and collecting flowers almost constantly."
"Okay, valid, but can anyone else identify every plant they see along with its meaning and its uses in medicine as well as its witchy purpose."
"Flattering me won't work."
"Yes it will." Chase grinned.
"Chase, stop it."
"Hyacinth, please."
"Funny how you remember the flower for forgiveness." Marvin remarks, smirking a little as they walk through the school gates. In response Chase jumps at Marvin and starts tickling him.
"Ch-a-hah-Chase, stop!" He laughs, Anti grins and hugs Marvin from behind.
"You need to cheer up you pile of dead leaves." Chase said.
"Anti, Chase!" Marvin squealed, laughing. The bell rang and Chase stopped.
"Shoot! I'm supposed to be the other side of school. Catch you later!"
And with that he was off, leaving the other two behind. Anti smiled at Marvin, "You alright now Marvy?"
"Yeah, there's a lot of yellow tulips in my dreams but I'll be good."
"Head up high Marv. I've got cookies for break." Marvin cheered and they parted ways to get to class.
Anti walked into English, sitting down in his back row seat and getting his book and pen out for the worst hour of the day. He despised English, all the words and stuff just didn't agree, analysing writing was stupid, and writing a newspaper article was stupid. All of it was annoying, Anti was just beginning to let his thoughts wonder whilst the others piled in when someone spoke at him, well, too him, but he wasn't listening the first time.
Anti looked up, "Can I help you?" He then stopped, and looked properly. The boy in front of him was beautiful, in a sort of, cold and sharp beautiful. His body and face wern't scrawny, but he did give off a feeling of being angled and having success in either business or law in future. Rather than a suit though, he was currently in a black turtleneck jumper and grey jeans, Anti had no doubt if the boy smiled it would be a blessing to his frail and gay heart.
"Is this seat taken?" The boy asked, expression remaining neutral, almost uninterested.
"As it happens, no. I'm Anti by the way. Are you new? I've never seen you around. I mean, sure, I can't know everyone, but that's besides the point."
"Yes, I moved into town a few days ago, however today is my first day in school. I'm Dark. A pleasure to meet you." Dark held his hand out for a handshake, however Anti just gave it a sort of side wards high five.
"Welcome to English, worst lesson of the day. Even the robots struggle."
"Robots?"
Anti cackled and was shot a glare by the teacher, quietening down he looked back to Dark, "Not literal ones, Google and Bing are just that perfectionist at Maths and Art and history and stuff that everyone calls 'em robots." It was sort of true, although Bing had only been given the tag after he started dating Google.
"Right."
The rest of the lesson had gone on as usual, annoying. Dark was interesting enough but he didn't talk about much unless it was required for the work. Anti sighed, he felt like Dark was important somehow, in a way that wasn't the fact he'd probably win head boy. At the end of the lesson he packed up his things and checked his timetable. History, not the worst lesson he could have.
Anti walked out of the class and Down the one way system, feeling someone's eyes on him and eventually turning.
"Are you following me?"
"No, I'm heading to music."
Anti bit his tongue, History and Music were in the same direction from English. "Right."
"Is there a problem?"
Anti checked for teachers before heading the wrong way through a one way system, using it as a shortcut. "No. None at all."
“That’s a one way system.” Dark commented, still following Anti through it regardless.
“Only if you get caught.”
Dark, to Anti's surprise, chuckled, "An interesting way of viewing the world."
"Yeah, Marvy calls it chaotic neutral."
"Interesting talking to you, see you later." And with that he turned and headed up a set of stairs to his lesson, Anti continued on, before turning right into a classroom, working his way to his seat and sitting down, setting up his books.
"You're late Anti."
"Sorry I'm late miss."
Miss Gibbs just rolled her eyes and started to teach, she was a good teacher in principle, but her general morals were 'don't share answers unless I say as you won't have friends in the exam' and 'If you fail you need to revise more as I have given you all the material'. She had a rather booming voice but overall was approachable and told stories about her family.
"Anti, what's the date of the treaty of Versailles?"
"June nineteen twenty? I think? You mean when it was signed right?"
"Learn to whisper." Google butted in, Chase gave him a glare.
---
Dark had only just come back to town, he barely remembered what it was like from when he moved away with his parents six years ago. No one seemed to remember him either. His older siblings hadn't come back with him, they had instead opted to stay in the same college and just rent an apartment. Meaning they had job searched. Dark had barely spent a week without them but he missed Damien's reassurances and positivity, he missed Celene's sarcastic wit and her gossip. He had received a text from Damien asking if he was okay and he had replied that he would adapt. He had to.
Dark didn't have many friends when he used to live here, the only one who really was his friend was Wil, and he was sure Wil would have grown since they last met, possibly lost his love of the colour pink, or his daring energy, or his lack of fear of Dark's temper.
Dark sat down in music. The desks were organized in rows, one at the edge of the classroom, two facing inwards at the middle, then one at the other side. The chairs were two to a keyboard. Dark looked over to the piano the teacher sat by. Sure, it wasn't a traditional one, it was still electronic, but at least it had peddles, and a more polished look about it.
Dark listened as their teacher- a women called Mrs Davenport- spoke, listing off the names on the register.
"Wilford Barnum?"
"Here." Darks head snapped around at the name, and as sure as the steady spinning of the earth and its eventual demise, there sat a boy, he had certainly lost most of the baby face since Dark last saw him- and gained pink hair so it seemed, but his cheeks were still plump and the glint was still in his eyes.
It was his Wil.
Dark looked towards the front, listening to the teacher, eventually she handed out some basic music sheets to practice on the keyboards, Dark stood up to speak to Mrs Davenport, noticing Wilford also stand. Perhaps his headphones were broken.
"Miss, as much as I appreciate the keyboards I would very much like to use the piano in the corner and whil-"
"Dark, was it?"
He was taken aback from being interrupted, he was defiantly doing as Celene said to when he so desired a favour, which was to 'lay it on thickly, and use some of your vocabulary. Adults love a smart and pristine boy like you Dark, you'll be able to talk into or out of whatever.' However it seems he may have to try again.
"Yes and I-"
"I don't see how you should get to and no one else should, unless you really are some musical genius, in which case come back in five years and I will eat my words."
Dark grit his teeth and went to straighten up, before stopping himself, smoothing his hair back and taking a breath. Jumping slightly at a hand on his shoulder.
"Miss, I really do think you should give this one the benefit of the doubt. He's been playing since five."
Dark looked over at Wilford, his manor of speaking was odd, and the way he held himself. Mostly the way he moved his jaw to speak. He saw Wil looking over him the same, until both their eyes set upon the confirmation they were after. Small, heart shaped, rose gold coloured lockets.
"Surely I can sit with him and Joe can partner up with my partner ey Miss?"
Mrs Davenport seemed to mull it over, a little too facially for Darks liking, before nodding. Wil slid his Hand from one shoulder to the other, before leading Dark by the hand to the piano.
"Shall I pull myself up a chair?"
"You always were a curt little shit. The stool is big enough for both of us Dark." Wil pointed out.
"You were always good at being a little shit. If I remember you once ate too much sugar and accidentally knocked over two photo frames, and your so called adventures got you in enough trouble as it was." Dark sat down on the stool, leaving space for Wil as he too sat down.
"I was lucky to have you. How have you been Dark?"
"Not too bad, although I miss the twins. They didn't move back with us. . . I remember first moving there and how much I missed you." Dark mentioned. Glancing over and watching Wil's features go soft.
"Yeah, I missed you too. You know, I really wanted to send a letter but didn't get the concept of needing the address."
Dark nodded. Wilford's warmth at his side. . . back at his side, . . it was comforting and felt like he remembered. He had fretted about this ever since it had been announced they were moving back. But here they were, Dark and Wil.
"You're going to have to lean back if I intend to reach the other keys."
"You only need one scale Dark, don't be greedy." Wilford leant back regardless.
Dark smiled and started to play.
"If I'm not wrong this is bohemian rhapsody, not the emmerdale theme."
"I'm allowed to play as I wish." Dark stated back. And that he did.
The lesson went on as such with Wil challenging Dark to play increasingly difficult and odd tunes before they actually bothered with the work set. To which it seemed Dark was able to add more complexities than necessary whilst Wil cursed the need to play and form of keyboard or piano when he himself played the saxophone.
Dark eventually found himself sat at a lunch table with Wil and two others, Bim and Arthur. Arthur seems the overdramatic type in terms of everything, but then again so is Bim. Bim looked like someone who would end up going far and being famed for his smile. Arthur, well, he would get himself somewhere creative, for better or worse.
Dark surveyed the hall, spotting Anti sat with a boy with long pastel green hair and one wearing a cap. Wil nudged him a few moments later.
((So, this is in two parts because apparently Tumblr has a limit on paragraphs or 'text blocks' which isn't fun when I do way too much dialogue))
#wilford warfstache#antisepticeye#darkiplier#dr iplier#wilford#chase brody#googleiplier#anti#bim trimmer#marvin the magnificent#septic egos#dark#google#google irl#dr host#dr. iplier#the author#celene#marvin the magician#mayor damien#i dream in vivid colour#undedicated writes
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Cricket legends who played in the Indian Premier League
“It’s only a few people, administrators and umpires, who had some doubt,” Murali recalls about the controversy over his bowling action. “That is their opinion, but someone’s opinion can’t be the rule. Doubt is part of life, that’s fair enough. But there are two sides to every story. An Australian university proved me right, in the end.
“If you leave the decision to the umpire, though, I don’t think that is fair. Not on the umpire and defi nitely not on the player. How can you see from the eyes and say that this is not right? Two people might see it diff erently. When you’re bowling, your arms rotate quicker than anything and you can’t see properly. So use the technology, see if what you’re saying is right, and then come to a conclusion. And then you can tell the bowler to change their action. These rules have been brought in aft er my incident, so things are done in diff erent ways. Now a bowler has a fair chance.
Cricket boards get millions from TV rights, the ICC pay you a lot. And who wants to take that money? Not the cricketers. Everything is politicised. In the 1990s, nobody wants to come to develop the game, so honest people do the work. Aft er the World Cup win in 1996, money started coming in by 2000, and in ten years’ time, they spoil all the game.
“We have good youngsters, but confi dence levels are going down. We used to be very confi dent. The most important thing is to get them mentally right. They have all the shots, but they don’t know how to make fi ft y, hundred or even a partnership. Those are the things that are lacking in the national side.” Since retirement, Murali has gone into manufacturing – his father made biscuits, while he has gone into aluminium cans. He’s also heavily involved with former manager Kushil Gunasekera’s charity, Foundation of Goodness. “The foundation helps people in the poorer areas, those parts of Sri Lanka aff ected by the Civil War and the 2004 Tsunami. We also have built sports facilities and helped run sports tournaments. “I was fortunate to play cricket, to play for Sri Lanka. When I had my troubles in Australia in 1995, the Sri Lankan people stood by me, supported me during those diffi cult years, where I worked hard to prove myself innocent of the charges. The people of Sri Lanka helped me a great deal and I thought then that I would do something to help them, too.
“I was actually there when the tsunami hit southern Sri Lanka in 2004. I was visiting a village near the coast with my wife and mother-in-law, delivering books for school children. We saw the sea was high in the distance, but suddenly people were running towards us. They didn’t know anything about tsunami, so when we asked them what was happening, they just said ‘the sea has come to land’. We ran away quickly. If we’d been 20 minutes later, the tsunami would have got us.”
Bringing up bats in the IPL
The development of young Australian cricketers hasn’t been quarantined from a fast-changing world. The difference from the system in the 1950s is dramatic but in recent years it’s occurred at a much quicker pace. The last exceptional Australian side began to disband when Shane Warne and Glenn McGrath retired in 2007. The first World T20 event was held later that year and up until then the development system for young Australian cricketers was evolving gradually. With the widespread growth of T20 leagues, the players now have an extra choice when it comes to earning a living and this also means having to choose a development direction from a more cluttered path. A young player now comes through a system that includes many structured net sessions, hours facing bowling machines or a coach wielding a “whanger”. All these sessions are closely monitored by a coach who has various technology aids to emphasise his point.
The system I grew up in had few structured net sessions and many hours of playing matches, whether they were in the backyard against my brother or at one of the many venues where pick-up games were available. There were no bowling machines, unless you count the thousands of balls thrown by our father, Martin. There were no whangers – we didn’t throw balls to the dog, we hit them and Champ gleefully chased them, diligently returning the missile – saliva and all – to his master.
The hours of playing matches were crucial in the development process. Without knowing it at the time, all sorts of information was being embedded in my brain which stood me in good stead when I later faced first-class and international bowlers. The coaching was at the weekend and it was from an excellent tutor in Lynn Fuller. This experience has led me to the conclusion that it is best to have good coaching, or none at all. Not having formal coaching allows a young cricketer to spend hours honing his skills and better understanding his own game. The careers of great players such as Sir Donald Bradman, Bill O’Reilly and Doug Walters all began in the bush where they unearthed their own particular way of developing skills.
As the modern young cricketer progresses, he reaches the stage of playing various level under-age matches and attending an academy. My academy was the backyard and the local playing fields. Soon after playing in my only under-age competition – an under 14 state carnival – I entered the realm of senior cricket, competing against men. This was a critical part of my development and it undoubtedly hastened my cricket education. On leaving school, I graduated to A-grade cricket in Adelaide where I competed with and against Test and interstate cricketers.
When Dennis Lillee walked into the Kingston Hotel in October of 1995, it was as if Dennis Lillee himself had walked into the Kingston Hotel. It was, for a Canberra kid, flat-out unbelievable. Dennis Lillee! In the Kingo! Our local! Even 26 years old and six schooners deep, I was the fan kid in Almost Famous when he clocks David Bowie. Lillee! It’s Dennis Lillee! My mate Pagey didn’t care. He bounded straight over. “Oi! Dennis Lillee!” declared Pagey and began yapping away like they were pals. And DK laughed at some bit of nonsense, and at the front of the bloke, and soon enough I was over there, in the great man’s orbit, shaking hands, unable to speak.
And he smiled that lop-sided Dennis Lillee smile, the one you’d seen on the beer ads, and said, “How are ya, son?” And I smiled back like a shy kid with Santa, and said nothing lest it come out a squeak. Mike Veletta was there too, laughing along with Pagey’s babble. Lillee’s fellow man of the west was in town to captain-coach the ACT Comets, the local boys playing their first season in the domestic one-day comp, the Mercantile Mutual Cup. Veletta was 31 and had played Tests and ODIs for Australia, and would’ve been a big enough deal for we cricket-mad locals. Turn up with Dennis Lillee and he was Mick Jagger’s wingman. Safe to say we didn’t get a lot of cricket in Canberra. Not the top stuff, anyway. We did get the Prime Minister’s XI; Robert Menzies’ muse brought back to life by Bob Hawke because he knew Australians as John Singleton knew Australians. Singo knew what sold Winfield Blues and Tooheys Draught, and Hawkey knew what sold Hawkey. And in those days, as Kerry Packer would have attested with a vengeance, cricket sold. And those PM’s XI fixtures, for cricketstarved Canberrans, were magnificent.
The first one was against the mighty West Indies side of 1984. Viv Richards, Clive Lloyd, big Joel Garner, and all the rest of those ridiculous humans with their long limbs and languid moves, and other-worldly skill – they were so unbelievably cool. Their visit energised the town; the match was sold out. Three thousand people snuck in under the fence. Manuka Oval heaved. It was ridiculous: January day; hotter than hell. Man, it was good. Desmond Haynes fielded just in front of us, on the fence backward of square. He was our guy, diving around, smiling his head off. And every time he came back from some bit of adventure we’d cheer, “Dessie! You beauty!” And he’d laugh and wave, into it. It was so cool.
Kids were mad for those West Indians. For the Aussie team, too. A mate of a mate, Coyley, played locally for Easts and wore his cricket kit to the game: woolly jumper, thick white socks, Greg Chappell hat. And he stood outside the Australian team's dressing shed signing autographs. Quizzical kids lined up. Years later, a younger mate dug out his toy bat with all the autographs, and there between “Michael Holding” and “Greg Ritchie” was “Peter Coyle”. Out in the middle, another relatively anonymous cricketer, a squat Tasmanian called David Boon, was whacking big Joel down the ground on the way to 134. And in a summer in which the Windies’ quicks were more four-pronged killer attack squad than men, we bayed for this boy Boonie, and for the PM’s boys, and for Hawkey who’d made it happen. The great man took a walk inside the perimeter, lapping it up, a rubbery figure come to life, shamelessly in love with himself.
And we loved him for it. And Hawkey knew it. ScoMo? There can be only one. In 1990 came England, and mates and I had a gig selling ice creams at the PM’s XI. We worked out you could wedge a six-pack of VB in amongst the dry ice, and we’d sit there, watching cricket, selling Cornettos and sucking on VB stubbies. Now and again you’d chant “Ice cream!” and down they’d come, the people. And I got half-pissed watching Allan Border belt the Poms around Manuka. At stumps, I was paid 150 bucks cash. Still the greatest job I’ve ever had. Another was operating Manuka’s Jack Fingleton scoreboard. They’d brought it up from the MCG, plank by plank, this great, hulking old banger, heritage-listed. And mates and I would sit inside it, shirtless, sweating up a treat, drinking tinnies, watching cricket.
One day saw a young Michael Bevan belt a ton against Wayne “Cracker” Holdsworth, bowling heat for NSW seconds. Cracker was short, skiddy and rapid. He was Malcolm Marshall without the guile. And without the Malcolm Marshall. But he bolted in and let rip, Cracker. And he was quick. At least he was this day, bouncing Bevan and the Canberra boys. In the same match, Marty Haywood who’d taken plenty of Cracker because, truth be told, Bevo didn’t much fancy it – was
run out in the shadows of stumps as Bevo scurried back to the non-striker’s end. And I can still hear Haywood’s bull moose roar of “craaaaap!” reverberating around the empty concrete stands of Manuka Oval. And I thought, “My but I love this game.” And I love this ground. And now Manuka’s got a Test match. Little Canberra has become.
Canberra has four distinct seasons. Autumn is dead leaves. Spring is blossoms. Winter is colder than Krakow by night. And summer is just hot. Broken Hill hot. It’s a dry, “bush” heat. It’s African savannah. It’s scorched earth. It’s stinkin’. And you played cricket in it because that’s just what you did. And you watched cricket. And you lived and loved it.
We played on “synthetic” wickets which were concrete strips overlaid by “AstroTurf” of various plumage. They could be bouncy as bejeezus. A top-edged cut shot would soar into space. Not a lot of seam. But bounce, baby, bounce. The turf wickets could be a bit how-you-goin’, as they say. Shades of the old MCG: shooters, bounders, rip-snorters. Ordinary, lot of ’em. And a lot of ordinary bowlers got wickets. Outfield grass was generally long because it was cold at night, and wouldn’t grow back if you cut it. Thus, batters did their best.
Yet a steady drip of first-class cricketers has come out of the joint, punctuated by the odd Michael Bevan and Brad Haddin. Greg Rowell bowled accurate fast-meds for NSW, Queensland and Tasmania. Wayne Andrews went to WA and played 91 Sheffield Shield games. Mark Higgs bowled left-arm wristspin and gave it a whack for the Blues, once belting 181 not against Queensland. Nathan Lyon came from Young to pilot Manuka’s mowers before doing the same at Adelaide after Les Burdett.
Largely, though, the very good ones stayed, big fish in a small pond. Few reasons: there were plenty of players like them in Sydney grade cricket; there wasn’t money enough to uproot a family to chase a dream; in Canberra there were public service jobs forever that gave you time off to play. And it was fun to play for the ACT.
Brad Bretland kept wicket for the ACT. You haven’t seen a bloke with quicker hands, whipping bails off standing up to the quicks. He played indoor cricket for Australia. Unbelievable eye, reflexes. Peter Solway holds the record for most games and runs for the ACT, and most games and runs in the ACT comp. He played in the PM’s XI of ’93-’94 alongside young guns Hayden, Langer, Ponting. Fellow local legend Greg Irvine played in the PM’s XI two days before Christmas 1987. Took 5/42 swinging the ball both ways before going down swinging in a run chase against Richard Hadlee, bookended in the batting order by ME Waugh, DW Hookes and AR Border. Solway says there were a couple of nibbles from Sydney but things were progressing nicely in Canberra. The Country Championships had kicked off. There were regular tours and second XI fixtures. And in ’95 came the Mercantile Mutual comp. “And I had a decent job, I was married,” he says. “It crossed my mind to move to Sydney. But I suppose I didn’t want it bad enough.” Was he good enough? Solway reckons he’d have backed himself. Yet the NSW team was a tough nut to crack. “The era I came through of under-17s and under-19s – and I don’t know if it put me off – but the NSW team was Taylor, Waugh, Waugh, McNamara and a heap of guys.
“I don’t regret [staying]. I’m happy with how things have panned out. Was I good enough? I dunno. I probably would’ve backed myself. But until you do, you don’t know.” Mike Veletta believes Solway was “easily” first-class level. “He was one of those great blokes who was happy doing what he was doing. He worked for the government, he was content, his family was entrenched in the community. There’s no doubt – temperament, nous, technique – he would’ve thrived at first-class level.” After Solway, Irvine and company, however, came a generation of cricketers for whom there was a genuine pathway and opportunity to play up. They were my generation – let’s call them the under-19s of ’89-’90. These talented ones could get amongst it at the AIS or the academy in Adelaide. Michael Bevan was of this generation. You played against Bevo, he was left-arm quick. Going across you, bending it back in – he was a bit bloody good, Bevo. Scary, even. A singular fellow, but a good fellah. He could bat, sure – but there were batters better.
One played in his own team – Huntley Armstrong, a Greg Ritchie-shaped belter with Shane Warne’s mullet. In a semi-final at Rivett Oval, my Woden Valley under-16s played Huntley’s Weston Creek. Bevo wasn’t playing, there was a soccer tournament on. But they still had plenty. Bunch of blokes would play U19s for ACT. But Huntley was the wicket.
On 20-odd on a ridiculously, freezing cold March day (truly, it was maybe six degrees, sleeting, wind-chill factor hideous), Huntley smashed our Laxman-wristed leg-spinner Michael Streat one thousand yards into space. I waited for it to come down. And waited. No-one thought I’d catch it – me included. Damn thing soared towards me like an ice comet. But I pouched it, somehow, and punched the air, and we knocked off the Creek, the hot faves. And all the dads said over again, “catches win matches”. And Huntley’s mum declared, “It’s all Michael Bevan’s fault!”
Week later in the grand final against St Edmund’s, another top player from that class of ’89, Marty Haywood, was on maybe 42 when he smashed Streaty high, and long, and way out to cow corner. And there waited I – The Hero of Rivett – underneath it. Beautiful day. Saw it all the way. Grassed the bastard. And watched our man Marty go on to plunder 157 not out and win the game. And that, as the cricket gods would tell you, is cricket.
Haywood went to Campbelltown and onwards to Mosman, where he captained the club for 20-some years. He would play 13 matches for NSW when the Waugh twins were playing for Australia. That was his competition in the Blues’ middle order: the bloody Waughs. Today, a good one would’ve gone to Tassie or somewhere. Haywood stayed and notched his highest score, 97, at the Junction Oval. And you play golf with him today and there’s longing behind his eyes. Huntley went to Adelaide and the academy there, and stayed on playing grade cricket. He played a couple of one-dayers for South hero of mine, David Hookes. Michael Bevan went to Sydney, and fashioned a fairly decent career in the game. Today there are several ex-Canberrans playing first-class cricket, such as Will Sheridan (Victoria), Jason Behrendorff (WA), Jason Floros (Queensland), Nick Winter (SA) and Tom Rogers (Tasmania). It’s always been the same – and it’s the same for those from Townsville, Geraldton, Innamincka – you want to be taken seriously, you leave. And until the ACT gets a Sheffield Shield team, that’s how it will stay. And that’s why they want one.
Mike Veletta had played 12 years of first-class cricket when it was put to him that he might like to captain-coach the fledgling one-day team called the ACT Comets in the Mercantile Mutual Cup. There was a job in property with a reputable firm. There was a chance to learn about coaching. It ticked a few boxes. But jeez, it was different to Perth. “They flew my wife and I over to Canberra in July, and you can imagine the weather,” Veletta remembers. “It was horrible. Four days later we got on the flight home, my wife said, ‘Thanks for that – I don’t need to see any more.’
“A month later we were there.” The move was still a punt for Veletta. The Comets were still an idea, there wasn’t actual confirmation that they’d be a firstclass entity. Yet he rocked up for pre-season training and learned things were done a little differently in the Bush Capital.
“I was told the first pre-season game was always against Manly, and they’d always stay at the Steyne Hotel,” says Veletta. “It wasn’t going to be a typical cricket tour. So we played against Manly and spent a long weekend at the pub! It was pointless going to bed early. It was a great way to get to know your team-mates and a great introduction to ACT cricket.”
Veletta was allocated a local club, Weston Creek, and was expected to dominate. Yet conditions were so different to Perth that he battled. “The pitches were average, really. Average bowlers could get wickets. It took me a while to work it out.” But he grew to love it. He was captaining guys for whom the interstate one-day competition would be the highlight of their careers. He found it refreshing that people played for love alone, and were proud to represent a tight-knit community.
Yet after three seasons and 18 one-day matches, the Comets were axed. Solway blames politics. And Cricket Australia. And a few other things. “Cricket Australia [then the Australian Cricket Board] showed a lack of vision,” Solway says. “It was shortsighted. It was voted on by states thinking about what they had to lose rather than the good of Australian cricket. Denis Rogers from Tasmania was chairman of the board. He drove it. Tasmania and South Australia were thinking about what they had to lose.
“We had players coming to Canberra to get an opportunity. Instead of going to Tassie, they were coming here. We were always keen to play first-class cricket. And I reckon it scared people. “But more teams wouldn’t weaken the standard. Australia’s had the same six state teams forever. Cricket’s set in its ways. And look how we’re going.” The Comets had their supporters. Alan Crompton was one. Geoff Lawson was coach of NSW and saw the ACT as a good destination for kids from his region of Wagga Wagga and the Riverina.
“I asked people on the cricket board why the team was axed and their responses were very political,” says Veletta. “It didn’t make sense. In regional cricket, the ACT could’ve played a huge role. I always thought for all the country guys between Sydney and Melbourne, the one-day comp would’ve been a great stepping stone.” In terms of cricket competition, though, the territory was, and remains, a fairly poor cousin to the metropolitan centres. It’s seen as a nudge above the comps in Newcastle, Ballarat, Sunshine Coast. Sydney boys will tell you Futures League games against the ACT are like hard first-grade games. Good cricket – nothing you can’t cop.
Today the Comets – which played its last, first-class 50-over matches in February of 2000 – are the ACT/NSW Country Comets and play List A Futures League fixtures against state second XIs, academies, and various mobs of young turks. Locals lament that the Comets are a de facto NSW side. Trent Copeland recently played “back”. There was a Comets teams that played recently, didn’t have any ACT players in it. And this when Sydney grade cricket’s yearning for their people. One assumes Pat Howard’s KPIs are being ticked. “It disappoints me that the Futures comp is ACT and NSW combined,” says Veletta.
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The Scenic Route: A Diversion
An All Creatures Great and Small/Doctor Who pastiche/crossover - an affectionate and (hopefully) humorous tribute to these two series and, particularly, to one of my favourite actors, Peter Davison.
Familiarity with the Fifth Doctor era and Series 1 Episode 7 of All Creatures Great and Small is definitely recommended for this to make any kind of sense.
Revised, tidied-up, all-in-one-place-for-added-convenience version.
Please enjoy and do let me know if you find any mistakes, plot holes or other infelicities.
(ca. 4000 words - consider making a cup of tea/coffee/other beverage of choice).
- 1. -
The Doctor did not feel at all well. His head throbbed, his throat was sore and, despite wearing an extra jumper and one of the long scarves he had favoured in his previous regeneration, he still shivered, chilled to the bone. He wondered what had happened to the other scarf that he had unravelled – a rather clever trick, that, one that he had learned from a very bright young Cretan lady – during his regenerative crisis. It was something of a shame that in all these years he had never got around to learning to knit, he now thought. Knitting must have much to do with mathematics. He began to imagine the yarn, passing over and under itself, creating all sorts of intricate patterns, over and under and around and behind and backward and forward, just like the threads in the web of time. He saw them, past, present, future, the definite and the possible, all weaving themselves together in the air in front of his eyes… and then he came to himself again with a start, realising that he was drifting into delirium and must try to find somewhere he could rest until his fever broke and he was on the way to recovery. Somewhere, ideally, with soft sheets and blankets, plenty of hot cups of tea and sympathetic company.
He might have known this would happen. There had been an outbreak of space flu on the planet Mintaka-VIII, which was inhabited by a race of technologically advanced, but physically somewhat susceptible, lizardlike beings. The ruler of the lizards, Zorg, had contacted the Doctor in some desperation, asking him for any help he could provide. Concerned about the possible effect of space flu on his Trion companion – the TARDIS Data Bank entry on the subject made alarming reading and he had no wish to watch Turlough twitching and frothing at the mouth a second time – he had left him for safety on the Eye of Orion, travelling alone to Mintaka-VIII. His analyses had identified a particular type of crystal that could act as a febrifuge for the Mintakans’ ruthenium-based metabolisms and, the crystals not being available locally, he had set off in his TARDIS to a mineral-rich moon in another star’s system to obtain them. However, even before leaving Mintaka-VIII, he had started to feel distinctly shaky, and reluctantly had to admit that he was in the grips of space flu himself – not fatal for Time Lords, but unpleasant and, for a day or two, very debilitating, leaving one in no fit state to be able to conduct trade negotiations on moons with only rudimentary facilities.
Where should he go to recuperate? His fevered brain felt full of fog, but he remembered that Earth in the late 20th century was a pleasant enough place, if a little technologically backward. He was delighted to read in the Data Bank that space flu had no ill-effects on humans beyond minor snuffles and sneezing. Perfect! He set the time and space coordinates for Brendon School in 1983; the Brigadier would surely be happy to let him sleep on the sofa-bed in his secluded little house for a day or so until he was well again, and then he must take the Mintakans their medicine.
It seemed that the TARDIS had other plans, or perhaps it was just that with his woolly head and shaking hands, the Doctor had entered the wrong data. The TARDIS landed in a field at the back of a large, grey stone house in a green, hilly landscape. It was clearly part of Earth and looked to be England, but was certainly not the grounds of Brendon. He picked up a haversack that he had packed with a few essentials, opened the TARDIS door and walked unsteadily (oh, how his head ached, and how heavy his legs felt!) towards the house, rapping on the glass in the back door and hoping very much that some kind person was inside.
A middle-aged woman, wearing an apron and with her greying hair tied back in a bun, answered the door. “Oh, Master Tristan! What have you been doing with yourself? I suppose you went to the pub after your cricket match, and then somehow ended up waking up this morning under a hedge with someone else’s clothes on. You get yourself into some right scrapes! Whatever are we going to do with you?” she chuckled. “You do look peaky, though,” she added in a more serious tone, when the Doctor failed to reply.
“’M not… M-m-mas-t-t-ter-” stuttered the Doctor, but he couldn’t seem to get his words out. He staggered a little and began to sway. Mrs Hall was quick-witted enough to realise what was happening, and caught him as he fell limply into her arms.
“Eh, poor lad, you’re shivering,” she said, as she picked up the haversack, put the Doctor’s arm around her shoulder and helped him up the stairs. “Let’s get you up to bed. That’s the best place for you.”
The bed, with its silky green quilt and piles of pillows, looked wonderfully inviting.
Mrs Hall went downstairs, promising to return with tea. The Doctor unpacked shakily and changed into his white flannelette pyjamas with their red question-mark motif, then wrapped himself up in the paisley-patterned dressing-gown that Lady Cranleigh had given him by way of apology for the events that took place at her home. By the time that Mrs Hall returned with tea and a very welcome hot-water bottle, the Doctor was tucked up under the covers. He swallowed down the tea while it was still hot, then drifted off into somewhat feverish sleep.
- 2. -
“Who are you, and what are you doing in my bed?”
Tristan had come home, tired and dirty, from a long day spent out on cold, exposed hillsides, and was looking forward to a hot bath before dinner. He whistled as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom to collect a change of clothes. Pushing open his bedroom door, he was astonished to find his bed occupied. The mysterious person was snuggled deep under the covers, with only a little blond hair showing. Tristan didn’t remember any college friends having invited themselves to stay, and in any case, surely Mrs Hall would have put up someone of that kind in the spare room. So who was this? Unless… it couldn’t be one of the nurses, could it? Perhaps one of them had finally been kicked out of her accommodation for breaking the curfew too many times, and had thought to presume on his kind heart. He would be in tremendous trouble with Siegfried if a nurse was found in his bed. Siegfried would imagine all sorts of things had been going on that had not, in fact, been going on.
“I say,” said Tristan. “What do you think you’re doing, sleeping in my bed?” He went over to the sleeping figure and gave what he supposed must be its shoulder a gentle shake. If it was a nurse, or any other visitor whose presence had not been approved by Siegfried, then the sooner this person was out of his bed, down the stairs and out of the house, the better.
The Doctor woke, turned over, pushed back the covers and peered groggily at the person who had been speaking to him in such an indignant tone.
Tristan and the Doctor stared at one another in surprise. The Doctor’s surprise was tinged with trepidation. Could Omega have come back once more? Had he somehow managed to escape his pitiful antimatter existence and to re-emerge into this world?
The Doctor propped himself up into a seated position, put out his hand and said “Hello, how do you do? I’m the Doctor.” The greeting didn’t really seem equal to the occasion, and perhaps a handshake wasn’t the best idea if one was dealing with one’s antimatter double, but he was feeling too ill and muzzy-headed for such considerations of originality and caution to play any great part in his thinking.
Tristan, unperturbed by concerns about renegade Time Lords, just stared at the stranger in bemusement, before realising that his manners were wanting, shaking the Doctor’s hand and introducing himself.
“So, let me get this straight,” said Tristan, some time later. “You travel through time and space in that blue box thing that’s sitting out there in the paddock at the moment, trying to put things right, and you just happened to turn up on our doorstep this morning, suffering from some sort of influenza. I have to say that it feels as if I have landed in the middle of a novel by Mr. Wells.” He had extracted the story from the Doctor amid much coughing and many cups of tea.
“Yes. The blue box, as you call her, has something akin to a mind of her own. The old girl does her best by me. I think she must have known that in this house, at this time, there would be someone who would let me in and put me to bed without even asking any questions.” The tea and the sleep had given him a lucidity that he had lacked previously. “I’m terribly sorry for sleeping in your bed without asking, but when I arrived I was feeling so giddy that I didn’t really know what was going on, and was just grateful for somewhere to rest.” He broke off as another coughing fit overtook him. “The lady who let me in was most tremendously kind to me. I really ought to thank her properly.”
James and Siegfried had arrived home by this point, and were gathered around the bed with Tristan, listening to the Doctor’s story.
“Well, little brother, I’ve got to hand it to you,” said Siegfried. “You really do know how to cause a stir. I leave the house in the morning and when I get back in the evening you have a sick time-traveller in your bed.”
“But – but – but – it wasn’t anything to do with me,” said Tristan, with an air of injured dignity.
“Are you quite sure this isn’t all a college prank, Tristan? All smoke and mirrors and stage make-up? You do have rather a regrettable flair for the theatrical. There was all that business with the ghostly monk not too long ago, after all.”
“Who told you about the monk?” said Tristan. Siegfried wasn’t supposed to know anything about that.
“No one,” said Siegfried. “It was just, let us say, educated guesswork. In any case, assuming our visitor is indeed a time-traveller rather than one of your more disreputable college associates, I would be very unwilling to let him fend for himself with such a nasty case of flu. You can’t put a chap out on the street when he’s in that sort of state, particularly when he looks so much like family.” Siegfried realised that he had been talking over the Doctor’s head, and made amends by addressing him directly. “I’m very sorry, my dear chap. My little brother does play so many pranks that I suspected that he had been up to something. Would it suit you to stay here for a while? And could you worry down some soup? We’ve got to keep your strength up, and Mrs Hall makes a most excellent cream of celery.”
The Doctor, exhausted from giving so many explanations and from listening to the exchanges between the brothers, weakly croaked out a grateful “oh yes, please, and cream of celery would be splendid”.
- 3. -
The Doctor was not recovering as quickly as he had hoped. At present, he was sitting up in bed, eating a bowl of porridge. Tristan was sitting beside him, reading out extracts from the newspaper. He had developed a fondness for his Time Lord lookalike over the past few days, which was not due entirely to vanity (“He’d be really rather good-looking with that pleasant, open face of his if his nose weren’t so red and he didn’t look so pale and peaky, and he looks just like me, so that must mean that I’m quite decent-looking, too. I shall remember that the next time I’m trying to make a good impression on a girl. Courage, mon brave, and imitate the action of a Time Lord.”). It also owed much to the Doctor’s courteous and cheerful demeanour and the exciting tales he told of his adventures (unfortunately still too often cut short by coughing fits and exhaustion). It really was like having the hero of a novel by Jules Verne or H G Wells novel as one’s houseguest, albeit one who lay in bed all day alternately sleeping and drinking tea. Tristan did wonder whether he could claim to have space flu the next time he wished to get out of early morning calls.
The Doctor had realised with delight that he had landed in a part of England that was very fond of cricket, and when he felt too weak to talk very much, he asked Tristan to read him the cricket match reports. Tristan was happy to acquiesce, and soon progressed to reading out articles that he thought the Doctor might find amusing – while he did not possess Tristan’s very highly developed sense of humour, the Doctor was certainly capable of a chuckle at a funny anecdote – and items of general interest. On his third day at Skeldale, when his mind had regained much of its clarity, the Doctor found out that the year was 1938. Of course, Time Lord rules forbade him from letting his new friends know what was in their future, and he realised sadly that Tristan and James, and even the somewhat older Siegfried, would probably have to serve in the upcoming war. He was not party to their individual destinies, but he thought that he would like to thank them and offer them an experience to which that they could look back in the dark days ahead – a trip to the stars in his TARDIS. But first, he must deal with the problem of the Mintakans. He was still too weak and ill to make the trip to the mining moon and then to Mintaka. Yesterday he had tried to walk over to the window to take a look at the view, but he had only gone a few steps before his head began to spin alarmingly and he had to abandon his attempt. He would try again today and every day until he managed it. Meanwhile, he worried about the Mintakans. How would they manage without their medicine, and did they think he had abandoned them?
Tristan put down the newspaper. An idea had occurred to him.
An idea had also occurred to the Doctor.
James came in, with his arm in a sling. “That wound that I picked up at Bentley’s has become infected,” he said “I’ve got to wear this for the next few days until it has healed, so I won’t be able to drive.”
“I was meaning to ask you -” said Tristan and the Doctor, simultaneously.
“Would you show me how to fly your TARDIS?” asked Tristan.
“Would you two run an errand for me?” asked the Doctor.
- 4. -
“This is the life!” exclaimed Tristan. “Whizzing through space and time!” He pushed a few buttons on the TARDIS console, just for the pleasure of hearing the bleeping noises they made(*). “Do you think this Time Lord garb suits me?” He strutted backwards and forwards in the console room. Unknown to James, who had been asleep at the time, he had spent several hours the previous evening practising how to make his frock-coat flap behind him in the most satisfying way.
“It does, oddly enough,” said James, who had no wish at all to flatter Tristan’s vanity but did feel the compulsion to be honest. “It’s a strange collection of garments, and it seems to be the Doctor’s own idea of what Earth people wore a couple of decades ago, but it does look as if it was designed for you.”
They both, separately, imagined Tristan arriving at a dance in the Doctor’s outfit and seeing heads turn. James’ imaginings focused on the embarrassment associated with being in Tristan’s company when he was dressed thus, and on ways of avoiding this eventuality. Tristan, for his part, daydreamed hopefully of the female hearts that might be set fluttering by an appropriate flick of his dashing coat-tails. “Oh, you look just like Prince Charming in that coat” an attractive young admirer was sighing, gazing adoringly up at him with big blue eyes. “Yes, and you know what Prince Charming wants to do to his pretty little princess,” he imagined himself saying, leaning down to kiss her rosebud lips…
“Why did he ask you to wear his outfit?” asked James, interrupting this gratifying fantasy.
“I think he thought it would make it easier for me to negotiate with the moon miners if they believed they were dealing with him. He obviously does have a certain amount of clout in some corners despite his odd taste in trousers. Or perhaps he just thought it would be a jolly wheeze, which of course it is! It’s just like ‘The Prince and the Pauper’ that we saw at the pictures!”
“Who’s the Prince and who’s the Pauper?” laughed James.
“Anyway, our errand is accomplished and everything’s tickety-boo! I thought that after studying Vet. Med., I knew most of what there was to know about strange creatures. Never did I thought I’d see lizards in trousers… which, now I come to think of it, looked remarkably like the Doctor’s. Perhaps this sort of get-up is considered quite the thing on certain planets. Don’t you think it was remarkable how similar the space lizards’ constitution was to that of felis catus? Perhaps I should write a paper on it for the Veterinary Record. Do you think Zorg and co. appreciated that little speech I made to them: ‘We love you, that’s why we’re here’ and all that? I thought they seemed rather moved.”
“And now it’s time to get back to Skeldale” said the voice of common sense. He looked through the viewing screen and then down at the console. “Wait a second! This isn’t the way back to Earth!”
“Yes it is,” said Tristan, grinning. “It’s the scenic route! You do know that this machine travels through time and space, don’t you? We can go on a nice little detour through a few galaxies and still be back in time for tea! You know, I think I have an instinctive feeling for space-travel. I could have been a pilot for a living, looping the loop and all that. Flying this thing is just like driving the Austin, only with a few extra gears. The Doctor is a nice enough chap, thoroughly decent and all that, but he can be a bit of a stuffy old fusspot. Anyone would think he was hundreds of years old, the way he talks. All these instructions and watch-out-for-this and don’t-press-that-please and you-know-you-really-need-to-be-careful. He seems to think it’s his job to worry about the whole universe.”
“Perhaps it is.”
“I thought I would have to sit through hours and hours of lectures on how to fly this thing before I could get the key out of him. Worse than old Jenkins on Parasitology. Fortunately he got tired and drifted off halfway through.”
“Possibly the only person who has fallen asleep in his own lecture,” said James, laughing nervously.
“Oh, that’s happened plenty of times at Edinburgh. When he woke up, he didn’t seem to realise that he’d been asleep. Must have been giving me flying instructions in his dreams. He gave me the key and just said ‘Please do try not to damage my TARDIS. She’s rather delicate,’ then just sort of flopped down and went back to sleep”.
“Imagine if it had been Siegfried and his Rover!” said James. “‘One scratch,’ he would have said, ‘just one scratch, and I’ll kill you with my bare hands’”.
Tristan laughed merrily and pressed a few more buttons.
“Don’t you think we’re going rather fast?” asked James. They did seem to be hurtling through space and time far too quickly, if that makes any sense when you consider Einstein's theories of relativity and whatnot, which Tristan didn't.
“Calm down, Jim, as I said, I have an instinct for these kinds of things and -” Tristan broke off with a yelp of horror as he saw, on the viewscreen, a phalanx of spacecraft flying directly toward the TARDIS. In panic, he pressed anything within reach on the console. The TARDIS made a nauseating lurch and swerved off in a different direction. It was not long before it crashed into something with an unpleasant, splintering crunch. Looking out of the viewscreen, the two young men saw that they had crashed into a rocky planet.
Remembering at least some of the Doctor’s warnings about planets without breathable atmospheres (perhaps the old bird did have a point with all his warnings after all, now he came to think of it), Tristan passed a shiny silver space helmet with an oxygen supply to James then took one for himself. Stepping out onto the planet’s surface, James picked up a chunk of space-rock off the mangled outside of the TARDIS and threw it down. Tristan, coming out to survey the damage, clutched his head in anguish (through his space helmet) and imagined how angry the Doctor would be after discovering what a mess he had made of his precious TARDIS.
***
The Doctor was propped up comfortably against the pillows, still feeling a little weak but in excellent spirits. His health had finally taken a turn for the better and he could convalesce at leisure, relieved of worry about the Mintakans thanks to those thoroughly decent young people who had made the trip in his place. After he had fully recovered his wits he had realised that there was, of course, no great hurry to get back to the Mintakans after all; after he had recovered, he could simply have set the coordinates of the TARDIS to arrive in Mintaka not long after he had left. That was the problem with space flu – it did addle the brain so. By the time this had occurred to him, the young men had already left. He just hoped that they had properly assimilated his instructions on how to fly the TARDIS. The people of this era were still very primitive when it came to space- and time-travel, and while James was a very sensible fellow, he sensed that Tristan, on whom he had had to rely to do the piloting with James’s arm out of action, tended towards excessive high spirits and recklessness.
“Thank you, Mrs Hall. It’s very kind of you to take care of me and bring me these most excellent cups of tea. I’ve been enjoying doing the crossword immensely. Ah, here are young Tristan and James. How did you get on with the errand I sent you on? Did you manage to get the healing crystals to Zorg and his lizards?”
“Yes,” said Tristan, who looked a little uneasy. “The lizards are now, er, basking in good health. But I’m afraid I took a bit of a detour and there was this flock, er, convoy of spaceships…”
The Doctor was overtaken by a coughing fit. He began to wonder whether he was about to regret having handed Tristan the keys to his TARDIS.
“I’m afraid the nearside wing of the TARDIS is rather mangled,” said Tristan, attempting to marshal his features into an expression of sweet, choirboyish innocence.
The Doctor made various expressions of polite, Edwardian-sounding indignation before managing to compose himself. “Crashing a chap’s ship! That really isn’t cricket, you know!”
- The End -
(*) “Do you mind?” grumbled one of the sound technicians. “Every time you press one of those buttons, we have to make a bleeping noise to go with it.”
“Yes, I know,” said Tristan, “that’s why I’m doing it.”
#all creatures great and small#doctor who#tristan farnon#fifth doctor#james herriot#siegfried farnon#mrs hall#peter davison#tristan flies the tardis#golden lads and girls#space lizards#stripy trousers#frock coats#tea in bed#crosswords#space flu#posh early 20th-century dialogue#as many references and in-jokes as i could cram in#my fiction#the scenic route
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A Serpent’s Secrets - Part 1
Summary: Wednesday 1st September 1971 is Y/N’S first day at Hogwarts… will she follow her parent’s wishes or make a path of her own?
Pairing: Sirius x Slytherin Reader
Word count: 4,612
Warnings: None yet really, a little angst maybe, kinda bad relationship with parents and that’s about it.
A/N: This is the first part to a series I have planned but it might take me a while to finish because I’ve got exams coming up and I really need to study. It’s going to be a combination of fluff, angst and hopefully, (if I think it’s good enough), smut – I’ll add warnings for all this stuff when necessary. I’m not really sure how I feel about the title of this series, so I might change it later on. Oh, and I promise this one will have a happy ending this time :D. Enjoy!
****
Growing up with parents that didn’t love you was pretty terrible. Growing up with parents that pretended that it wasn’t true, was worse. Your mother and father were the kind of people that only saw you as part of the family if you benefited their reputation. Coming from a Pureblood family, certain mannerisms and opinions were taught to you at a very young age. They started off innocent enough, but progressively got worse. At five, you were taught that if you misbehaved at the dinner table, you would go hungry until the next day and at age seven, you were told not to address your house elf, Viskey, unless it was to give her a command. Many more prejudice rules were introduced to you throughout your younger years, however, the more they taught you, the more you began to disagree with their cruel ways. It was difficult for you to understand why these other people and creatures around you were supposed to be beneath you. Though you soon began to disobey your parents, you were wise enough to know that your new behaviour should remain undiscovered. Therefore, you followed the rules only when in the presence of your mother, father and older sister, Selene.
Selene was the pride of the family and was extremely similar to your parents. Whilst she most definitely was kinder than them, her sensible and superior nature overpowered any other traits she showed. Most of the time, your relationship with your sister wasn’t bad. Both of you would often prank each other, you more often than her, especially when she made comments about Muggle-borns. She once told you that she only said all of it for her own benefit, trying to stay on the good side of your parents; the motive for many of her actions.
Selene had already begun her time at Hogwarts, and to no surprise to the rest of the family, she was sorted into Slytherin. She was beautiful and smart and most importantly, she upheld your family traditions. This only made you more anxious for when it was your time to attend the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as although you didn’t agree with your family’s views on most things, you still had a questionable desire for wanting to make them proud. There was also the fact that you knew most people disliked people from Slytherin. Whichever house you were put in, there would be someone who disliked you for it. The only comforting fact on this matter was that you only had two years left to worry about it.
TWO YEARS LATER…
Flickering bright lights dancing beneath your closed eyes cause you to slowly regain consciousness. Opening your eyes, you see your enchanted model dragons fighting on your bedside desk, shooting fire at each other. Sighing, you flip the covers off you and get out of your double bed. You weren’t going to be able to get back to sleep with the morning sunlight pouring through your bedroom window. Somehow, your feet carry you successfully over to your wardrobe without tripping over anything. When you open the wardrobe, your eyes drift over the calendar hanging on the inside of the door. In your groggy staye, it takes you a moment to process what you were looking at but eventually you remember. It was the first of September! You were finally off to Hogwarts! After you hurriedly pull on your favourite pair of black ripped jeans and a comfy jumper, you look at the clock above your bed; it was only five fifteen. Shoulders slumping down, you go to sit back on your bed. Disappointed though you were that you still had so long to wait, you still needed breakfast.
“Viskey.” You whispered.
A sudden crack echoes throughout your room and a small, kind-eyed house elf appears before you.
When she realised it was you who summoned her, you could see her posture instantly relax. “Hello Miss Y/N,” she said cheerily. “What can Viskey do for you?”
“How are you Viskey?”
Her eyes light up as soon as the question leaves your mouth. Despite being kind natured towards her since you were 8, she still seemed pleasantly surprised that you always treated her as though she was your friend. You could hardly suppress your smile if you tried.
“Oh, Viskey is quite well, Miss. Viskey is here with Miss Y/N after all.” Her ears perk up slightly and your suddenly reminded of a dog.
“Thanks, Viskey,” you smile, giving her a quick hug. “Do you know if anyone else is up yet?”
“Master Y/L/N is already gone off for work, Miss. Mistress Y/L/N and Miss Selena are still sleeping.”
Feeling relieved at this news, you rummage through your drawers in search of a pair of woolly socks and when you have got them on, you turn to Viskey.
“Fancy some pancakes?”
The light in her eyes brightens and you both sneak off down to the kitchen.
When your mother and sister finally wake up, the evidence that you had made pancakes was gone and Viskey was in the study, polishing the household items. You were in your room, double checking you had everything packed for Hogwarts. There was a quick knock at the door before your mother came in, wearing her best dress and jewelry. She took a quick glance around your room, her features immediately looking displeased.
“I’ve got to attend an event so I will not be able to take you to the platform today.” She informed, her voice stiff and monotone.
“Okay. How am I getting there then?”
“Your father has hired a Ministry car for you and Selena.” She hesitated a moment. “I do hope you won’t disappoint us.”
With that she left the room, leaving you in silence.
Whilst you were waiting for the car to arrive, you and Selene stood outside your house facing the large garden, both of your belongings beside you. You were still in the same outfit as you had put on in the morning, starting to regret the fact that you wore a jumper as it was beginning to get warmer. The grass around you was swaying in the summer breeze and the birds flew above you, tweeting to alert the world it was morning. Minutes later, a car appeared in the distance. As it drew closer to the house, the gates opened themselves to allow it to pass through. When it stopped, a tall man in a burgundy uniform exited the car and held the door open for you. Following after Selene, you clambered into the car. Really, you shouldn’t have been surprised; your parents would never hire anything that wasn’t considered to be the upmost of luxury for their own family. However, you couldn’t help but feel that it wasn’t really necessary for the car to have a bar in it. You inwardly roll your eyes and take a seat next to the window, watching as the driver waves his wand, making your luggage fly into the boot of the car.
When you reach the train station, the man carries your luggage over to the entrance and places them on a trolley. The ease of which he lifts them makes you assume he’s placed some kind of charm on them to make them lighter. Unused to all the Muggles, you became overwhelmed by the large number of them; the majority of them were rushing around and bumping into one another to get to the train on time. There were large families that were struggling to stay together, as well as a few men in suits with a briefcase, a look of pride on their faces. You assumed, much like it was in the wizarding world, men in suits tended to have good jobs. Trunks now all successfully on your separate trolleys, the driver of the Ministry car got in and drove off around the corner.
“Come on Y/N, don’t you want to get there early? Then we don’t have to rush.”
Struggling to pry your eyes away from the scene around you, you nod at Selene and follow her into the train station. Once inside the building, you start to appreciate the creativity of the Muggles; it was enchanting. Subconsciously, your legs begin to carry you quicker, desperate to reach platform 9 and ¾. Loud hoots coming from your Owl, Pandora, start to draw the attention of a few people around you, but you hardly notice. Platform 9 and 10. Finally here, and all you have to do now is run through the barrier. Selene can almost sense your excitement, having felt the exact same way as you when she first saw the barrier. She motions for you to go ahead of her, and then you’re running, the brick wall getting closer and closer and closer until…
A loud whistle rings in your ears. You turn the corner and see a large sign, written in capitals: ‘9 ¾, HOGWARTS EXPRESS’. The Hogwarts Express was a large, red train with steam flying out behind it in large, white clouds. It looked better than you ever imagined it. A feeling of elation overcomes you and you feel the sudden urge to laugh. Who knew running through a brick wall could make it on your list of best moments.
Two taps on your shoulder alert you that Selene has made it through the barrier.
“I’m meeting my friends here, you coming to meet them or not?” She asks.
Glancing at the large clock hanging in the air, you see it’s only 10:45, definitely enough time to meet them. Anyway, you didn’t really have much else to do besides wait, and you didn’t think you’d be able to without becoming overwhelmed with anticipation. Better to distract yourself.
You follow her over to a group of three, all of which appeared very tall. There were two boys, both with dark hair (however one was slightly bigger than the other) and a girl with silver hair. Apparently, Selene’s behavior changed a lot when she was with other people. She became a lot gigglier.
“Who’s the firsty, Sel?” The taller of the two boys laughed.
“This is my sister, Y/N… be nice to her, Connor.” She jested, eyes turning towards the taller boy.
You give a short laugh, then give an enthusiastic reply. “Hello!”
The silver haired girl smiles down at you. “So, Y/N… Any idea what house you’re hoping to be in?”
“Uhmm, I don’t real-”
Connor interrupted you, his humourous behavior suddenly gone, now replaced with a cold and hateful seriousness. “Slytherin’s the only good option really, Y/N. The only place without any filthy mudbloods. Scum of the Earth, they are, honestly. I’d rather die than be associated with any of 'em.”
They all begin to laugh, but you found nothing about it funny. Mumbling that you have to go get on the train, you push your trolley and walk away from them before they can stop you.
Lifting your trunk onto the train by yourself would’ve been an impossible feat if the driver of the Ministry car hadn’t put the charm on it. A girl with straight, dark blonde hair was one of the people struggling with getting her things on the train. When your trunk was successfully placed on the shelf in the compartment you chose, you went back outside to help the girl.
“Need any help with that?”
She jumps, looking up at you. Her face was scrunched up in confusion, obviously too shy to speak to you.
Noticing this, you try and make her more comfortable. “I’m Y/N.” You grin. “I’ll grab this end and you push it towards me, okay?”
She nods, giving you a small and innocent smile, which only makes yours grow wider. Maybe making friends here was going to be easier than you thought.
You step through the door she was trying to get to and grab her trunk at the base, lifting it off the ground. Signaling for her to lift it up and push it, you both manage to get it onto the train. She drags it along to the compartment two down from yours and takes a seat. As you go to leave, she speaks up. “Thanks, Y/N. My name’s Savannah.”
“Well Savannah… I guess I’ll see you when we get there.” And you head back to your compartment.
It was only another five minutes before the train set off, but to you it felt like an eternity. Your mind kept flicking back and forth between excitement and nervousness. Finding yourself grateful for the large amounts of people now on the platform (they were the perfect distraction), you take the window seat and watch as all the parents waved their children goodbye, slowly disappearing out of sight. The door of your compartment slides open, and a small ginger girl with brilliant green eyes walks in, accompanied by a black, greasy haired boy with a crooked nose.
“Hi! I’m Lily, and this is Severus. Is anyone else sitting here?”
You shake your head, and motion for them to sit down. The ginger girl, Lily, starts to speak again. “So, what’s your name?”
Before you can answer, however, four boys stumble into the compartment and sit down. Immediately, the somewhat quiet you had was disrupted.
They were all roughly the same height. One of them had scars running along his face and neck, and wore slightly tattered clothes. The boy next to him was the smallest out of them all, as well as slightly larger. His hair was untidy, and he was practically shrinking into the seat. These two were obviously the quietest. Next to them, there was a boy with round glasses and ruffled up hair, though you had the feeling that he did this purposefully. Lounging opposite him, was a boy with long, jet black hair with a seemingly constant smirk etched onto his face.
Lily and Severus began to talk again whilst you turned your attention back to the window. As the train picked up speed, the countryside whirred past, becoming merely a blur of different shades of green. Leaning against the window, you listened to Snape’s conversation.
“You’d better be in Slytherin.” Snape said.
Lily apparently, did not know much about Hogwarts as she replied, “Slytherin?”
You guessed she was a Muggleborn.
“Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?” The boy with the glasses asked the boy sitting across from him.
You didn’t see, but it sounded like the smirk on his face had dropped and was replaced with a frown. “My whole family have been in Slytherin.”
“Blimey, and I thought you seemed alright!”
You rolled your eyes; he was obviously one of the people that were prejudiced against the houses.
“Maybe I’ll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?” His voice now sounding a lot more cheerful.
You heard him stand up, your attention now fully on him. He dramatically raised a non-existent sword.
“Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart. Like my dad.”
You heard Snape scoff loudly, not really making an effort to hide it. Knowing that at least two of the other boys would take it as in insult, you faced the window once more, not wanting to get involved, though still listening intently.
“Got a problem with that?”
“No,” though Severus’ voice was laced with sarcasm. “If you’d rather be brawny than brainy -”
“Where’re you hoping to go, seeing as your neither?” Added the boy with the long hair.
Beside you, you felt Lily stand up, as they all began to laugh.
“Come on, Severus, let’s find another compartment.” She said, dislike and annoyance clearly evident in her voice.
“See ya, Snivellus!” One of them called out before the door slammed behind Lily and Severus, leaving you alone with them.
They began talking to each other about Hogwarts. You learned that the boy with the glasses was James and the one with the long black hair was called Sirius. A name you thought you recognised, but dismissed quickly; you had never met these people before.
Unfortunately for you, they soon turned their attention to you, and you felt a tap on your shoulder.
“So, you have a name then?” James asks you.
“Y/N Y/L/N.” Your response was blunt; you didn’t think much of James and Sirius so far.
Oddly, Sirius stared at you in dislike, though you had only given him your name. Shrugging it off, you stared back out the window, hoping they would realise that you were ending the conversation there.
Thankfully, they did, and you sat the rest of the train journey in peace.
When the train finally came to a stop, all the students were in their black robes, buzzing with excitement as they gazed up at the castle. Even from a distance, it looked magnificent. Orange lights shone outside of each window, the tallest of towers that looked as though it was touching the moon. You stepped off the train, and followed the crowd of your fellow first years to a large lake.
When a woman, who you presumed was a teacher, began talking, everyone became suddenly silent.
“I want you all to line up and get in a boat. Only six to a boat please, and you needn’t worry, the boats steer themselves.”
Gradually, the line began moving forward, and it was soon your turn to step into the boat. The glowing lantern lit up the boat, allowing you to see who else was on your boat. There were with the quiet boys from your train compartment, a boy with short, dark brown hair and a boy and a girl, who shared the same curly, light ash brown hair and tanned face.
You sat next to the girl, who immediately greeted you, a large smile on her face and her arm outstretched in a request to shake it. She looked friendly enough, so you accepted.
“Tia Heath. And this here is my younger brother, Oscar.” She grabs the curly-haired boy by the arm.
“We’re twins, Tia,” though he still grins at you. “Nice to meet you.”
When he looks away, Tia whispers in your ear, “I was born three minutes before him.”
You both laugh. “My name’s Y/N Y/L/N.”
She looks surprised, but before you can question why, she answers.
“You’re a Pureblood then.” It’s a statement, not a question. She must notice the way your face falls, because she quickly adds, “Oh no, don’t worry, I don’t judge on Blood Status. We’re Purebloods too, so we know what it’s like for most people to think you’re a pretentious git all the time.”
You cheer up a bit, glad to have found someone who understood what you felt like.
Not long after, the boat reaches the other side of the lake and you all step out, escorted inside the castle by the teacher. Deciding to stay with Tia and Oscar, you climb the stone steps. Several people around you gasp in astonishment when you enter a larger hallway, as they saw moving paintings. Being used to them already, you glanced towards the large wooden doors in front of you, which had just opened for another teacher, wearing emerald green robes and a pointy hat. She nodded towards the teacher which had taken you across the lake, and began speaking.
“Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor McGonagall. Shortly, you will enter the Great Hall, and a hat will be placed on your head, which will sort you into your houses. The four houses are: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin.” A few people began to talk though she silenced the sudden murmur of excitement with a stern glare. “You will spend a great deal of time with the people in your houses, and at the end of the year, one house will win the House Cup. To achieve this, you need house points, which are obtained by good behaviour and effort. However, should you break the rules, these points can, and will be, deducted.”
She waited a moment before speaking again. “Now, if you would follow me.”
The doors to the Great Hall swung open again, and you were met with hundreds of students, heads all turned in the direction of you. The walk up to the front of the hall felt much longer than it actually took. You were still next to Tia when McGonagall began calling out the names.
You hardly noticed most of the Sorting; your mind had reverted back into the worry that wherever you were sorted, you would be unhappy. If you were placed in Gryffindor, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, your parents would hate you, and if you were placed in Slytherin, everyone else would. It was only when certain names or faces of interest were called that you actually paid attention.
“Lupin, Remus.”
The scarred boy from the train compartment nervously walked up, and sat on the stool. Five seconds after the hat was placed on his head, the hat shouted “Gryffindor!”, followed by loud applause from the Gryffindor table.
After Remus was called, was 'Pettigrew, Peter,’ who also got sorted into Gryffindor; though it took a lot longer for the hat to decide.
“Heath, Tia.”
“Good luck,” you whispered to her.
She gave a grateful half-smile. “You too.”
The hat seemed to ponder for a moment before finally calling, “Slytherin!”
Tia smiled, apparently content with the house she was placed in, and made her way over to the Slytherin table. At least now, if you were placed in Slytherin, you would have a friend who didn’t care about your status.
Oscar was sorted into Hufflepuff. Looking towards Tia, you expected her to look disappointed, but she still had the grin on her face. Perhaps she always knew that her twin would be in Hufflepuff.
“Y/L/N, Y/N.”
The Hall went silent again, and your feet moved of their own accord. Sitting on the stool, McGonagall placed the hat on top of you. You couldn’t help but jump when the hat’s voice echoed throughout your head.
'Well, what do we have here? A mind for trouble, I see, though not afraid to defend yourself and those closest to you. But which house do you belong in? Perhaps not Ravenclaw, though you’re intelligent, your strengths lie elsewhere.’
You begin to get more nervous; you had the hat on longer than anyone else.
'You’re certainly daring and brave,’ You thought the hat had finally come to a decision, but he quickly changed his mind. 'But perhaps you are not chivalrous enough. Then Hufflepuff, maybe?’ He fell silent for a moment, deliberating. 'No… you’d be willing to do whatever to get what you want. Hufflepuffs value fair play, after all. Well… if not Ravenclaw, Gryffindor or Hufflepuff… I think you should be in… “SLYTHERIN!’” He shouted out loud to the Hall.
You took off the hat and gave it back to McGonagall, and made your way over to the other Slytherin first years, all of who were clapping and cheering loudly. You were grateful because you were not one of the first people sorted into Slytherin, and therefore you were greeted by other students in your year. More so, you were grateful about Tia, who was sat opposite from you, smiling widely. Several other people rose from the bench to shake your hand, including the dark-haired boy from the boat, who told you his name was Alec, and the girl sat next to you. She had shoulder length, brunette hair and wore square glasses.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Layla.”
“Y/N,” you replied.
The noise in the Great Hall slowly died down so you turned your attention back to Professor McGonagall as she called out the remaining names for the Sorting to continue.
“Black, Sirius.”
So that’s how you recognised the name. The Blacks were a very well-known Pureblood family, all of who were in Slytherin. You wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up in your house as well. Unable to not feel slightly annoyed by this, Sirius did not seem like a very nice person, you watched attentively. However, Sirius did not end up in Slytherin. He was sorted into Gryffindor, and, to your surprise, he looked immensely pleased with the Hat’s choice.
James Potter and Lily Evans were sorted into Gryffindor, much to the displeasure of Snape, who was sorted into Slytherin.
There was only a handful of students left, but now you were sorted, the sudden feeling of hunger crashed down on you.
Robert Finn was placed in Slytherin. Richard Hardie and Jack Cole were both placed in Gryffindor, and Savannah Levitte (the girl you had helped on the train), got sorted into Ravenclaw, along with Edward Fox.
Now the Sorting had ended, the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, rose from his golden chair and approached the front of the hall and said simply, “Let the feast begin!”
Plates on the table suddenly appeared with a large variety of food in quantities that one could only ever imagine. There was something for everyone, chicken, sausages, potatoes, rice and bread, the list was never-ending. Straight after everyone had eaten enough, both Muggle and Wizarding deserts came.
The remnants of the food left after disappeared from existence as soon as Dumbledore stood to his feet once more. “Now, before our Prefects direct you to your Common Rooms, I must inform our first years and remind those above them, that the Forbidden Forest is, indeed, forbidden.” He glanced at several students around the hall, almost as if to reiterate his point. “I think, now we are all fed, it is time for a good night’s sleep, don’t you?” He waited a moment, there was no movement from anyone in the hall, waiting for him to dismiss them properly. “…Goodnight.”
Bustling out of the Great Hall, you found it rather difficult following the Slytherin prefect, though Alec was with you and Tia, and, being taller than the both of you, he was able to see which direction they needed to go in. Finally, you arrived at the dungeons, though not in the typical sense. Instead of the cold and eerie atmosphere you would’ve expected, warmth came from the fires and the common room looked as though it had been decorated for royalty. The main room was very large with a high ceiling arching over it. Groups of leather sofas were scattered around the room, most of which had their own personal fireplaces to go with them. Flickers of blue and green light came from a large window at the very back common room, the window which looked out into the Black Lake. Further into the room, you saw several hallways branching off from the main room; the Prefect leads you down the far right hall, which eventually leads to a small stair case.
“Girls, your dormitories are up these stairs here, and the boys are up the ones opposite. Your trunks have already been placed in your rooms.”
Tia shouts a goodbye to Alec, and heads up to the dormitory with you. As soon as you enter, Tia scans the room, running and jumping onto the bed nearest the corner. “Shotgun!” She shouts. Laughing along with her, you carry your stuff over to the bed next to her. Layla and three other girls who you hadn’t learned the names of yet were already in their pyjamas. You and Tia did the same, the idea of sleep too tempting to ignore any longer. You would talk more in the morning.
As you lay down on your bed, looking towards a smaller window to the lake, you imagined what your day at Hogwarts would be like the next day. Before you knew it, you were fast asleep.
#sirius x reader#sirius black x reader#sirius black#remus lupin#lily potter#james potter#peter pettigrew#marauders era#marauders#sirius black angst#sirius black fluff#sirius angst#sirius fluff#sirius black x reader angst#sirius x reader angst#sirius black x reader fluff#sirius x reader fluff#mischiefmanaged#harry potter#harry potter angst#harry potter fluff#sirius black imagine#sirius black one shot#sirius black fanfiction#marauders imagine#marauders fanfiction#marauders one shot#harry potter fanfiction#slytherin reader#slytherin reader x sirius black
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This Remote Fisherman’s Shack Is A Little Slice of Heaven
This Remote Fisherman’s Shack Is A Little Slice of Heaven
Stays
Sasha Gattermayr
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Photo – Luisa Brimble.
Never have I wanted to put on my warmest clothes and curl up by a window to read a book more than I do right now. At the Little Black Shack at Great Mackerel beach, you can picture the Swallows and Amazons in woolly jumpers racing homemade rafts across the bay, or Julian, Dick, George, Ann and Timothy the dog picnicking with tongue sandwiches on the beach. The shack and its surrounds remind me of a real life Enid Blyton novel (the Australian version).
Jamie Kwong first spotted his future property on a television ad when he was a teenager, and couldn’t believe his luck when he sailed past the same little hut later in life. In 2013, he and his partner Ingrid purchased the plot with plans to build an off the grid home for their young family, to spend their days exploring waterways, fishing, camping, living off the sea and hiking in the surrounding national park. The shack was perfect for their lifestyle.
Whilst the pair were drawn to the practical, utilitarian nature of the shack, it was in need of an update to make it habitable. ‘It was pretty much unliveable’ recalls Jamie. ‘The roof, interior and exterior walls were all asbestos, termites had eaten the majority of the timbers, and there were more packs of rat bait than human food. Much of it was not weatherproof, the garden walls had crumbled into the sea and the toilet was in a shed outside.’
The pair proceeded to lovingly restore the shack without compromising on its visible history. ‘We simply took it apart bit by bit and put it back together as it was (with a few minor alterations),’ Jamie states. He and Ingrid then filled the home with recycled, repurposed, restored and homemade furniture, allowing the house to retain its wild and woolly maritime interiors. ‘If we didn’t already have it, we made it ourselves out of recycled materials. We didn’t want to make a home at the expense of the environment.’
And at every chance it gets, the landscape peeks its way in, inveigling itself into the nooks and crannies of the structure and the lives of whichever human is occupying the shack at the time. Rainwater is used for showers (outside or in), a kitchen garden hosts a plot of wild native greens and the outdoor kitchen is equipped with a wood fired oven and barbequeue to cook everything you’ve harvested. Guests read books and play board games instead of watching TV, and there is gear for kayaking, fishing and crabbing.
‘The environment was behind every choice we made,’ Jamie explains. ‘It’s probably what we don’t have that makes the shack so special. There are no shops, cafes, roads, cars or Foxtel, so the shack is a complete escape from our hectic, modern lives.’
The Little Black Shack looks almost like a stage set, somewhere the Dursleys would go to flee Hogwarts owls, or Cameron Diaz would venture in The Holiday. The structure captures a rustic homeliness, an essence of hygge that bestows immediate atmosphere on any story taking place within it. The feeling of Little Black Shack existed before the plethora of films and novels it stirs memories of, and will transcend the many more to come.
Fancy a few nights in this secluded maritime idyll? You can book a stay here.
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KATHMANDU SHOP SHOP SHOP Today we went out for lunch and drew up a game plan. The entire trip we've been holding off on buying any souvenir type stuff for no particular reason other than the hassle of lugging it around. With Kathmandu being our last destination and only having to pack our bags once more, it was time to open the flood gates and buy some STUFF. Lunch was bootylicious and polished off within minutes, leaving us with plenty of time to figuring out precisely what "STUFF" it was that we wanted to buy. Personally, as I'm a sucker for nice jumpers, woolly warm Yak-tastic goodness was at the top of my list. Alongside some sort of hat that had something to do with Nepal specifically. No doubt that would be Yak-tastic too! Against all odds, as we wandered around the crystal maze that is Kathmandu and perhaps Thamel in particular. I found the perfect jumper, not once.., but twice. I'm not sure what those odds are but I'm confident it's nothing short of a miracle. Bonus points were also scored in finding a woolly hat with the "Buddha eyes" that you see everywhere here. I'm fairly certain the symbol represents peace but don't quote me on that. Either way I've got a hat with it on, oooshhh. Optic for a more summary e.... selection, Howard bagged himself six items. Comprised of jazz pants and shorts galore, all of exquisite quality and overall.. jazzyness. Returning once more to our hotel, we admired our winnings and retired for an early night. We needed to be up at 4:00am the following morning, in order to be ready at the airport for our Everest flight.
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Part Fourteen of A Witch, A Captain and a Cult
Words: 745
Sam was worried about the plan. Luna had suggested that they go straight to the house, but Natasha’s pager said that Bucky wasn’t there.
“We could go there anyway, couldn’t we?” Luna suggested.
“But he’s not there. He’s travelling somewhere.”
Luna smiled a little.
“Let’s go take the airship for a spin then, shall we?”
*
Sam decided to use his steam powered jet pack. It was a cool one because it had wings that came out, so he could fly alongside Redwing. The others decided to fly the airship to a safer location, just in case of trouble.
*
Sam and Redwing quickly found Bucky, who looked like he was in trouble.
“Hey, Sam,” Bucky called. Sam swooped down and picked Bucky up, holding him under his arms.
“Who’s the girl?”
“No idea, but I think she’s a part of that cult that’s after Luna.”
Sam almost dropped Bucky in surprise then.
“She said there were only two members!”
“No, I think there’s four; two men and two women. Where are the others?”
“They’re in the airship. We’re going to figure out a plan once we get there.”
“I know what they want. They want Luna’s power!”
Suddenly the two men and the falcon were in the airship. Alpine the cat ran up to Bucky, who hugged her tightly.
“How did we get in here?” Sam asked.
Luna smiled from the pilot’s seat.
“I thought about you guys being here and it happened. Make yourselves at home; Tod already has.” She indicated to the fox, who was dragged a blanket into a hole in the mattress that definitely wasn’t there before, judging by Bucky’s face.
“Sorry, Romeo, looks like you’re stuck with the sofa,” Tod said, disappearing into the burrow.
Sam laughed a little. Redwing flew up on top of the mini fridge and rested there.
Natasha was flying the airship with Luna, and Steve was tidying up.
“Seriously, Buck, you need to keep an eye on everything. You’ve got at least three broken pens here.”
Sam went into the small kitchen and got out a packet of biscuits. Bucky stayed still.
“You ok?” Sam asked him gently.
“Yeah. Just tired. I might go and have a little rest.”
“Go ahead. We’ll wake you if anything happens.”
*
Redwing woke Bucky up that evening by pecking him on the head.
“Alright, I’m up. Did I miss anything?”
“No,” Natasha said, “but Luna is making pancakes, so we thought you might be hungry.”
“You’re right about that.”
Bucky had taken off his boots and jacket before he’d gone to bed, and was left in his shirt and trousers and socks.
Natasha was wearing black leggings, and a smart woolly jumper. Her hair had been cut into a smart bob that brushed her shoulders.
Luna’s hair was growing out; it was now just about covering her ears, and she wore the same short black dress with the studded belt and ripped leggings she’d been wearing when she first met Bucky.
Sam had taken off his jet pack and was wearing a green polo shirt and maroon jeans.
Steve was wearing a white vest top and grey jogging bottoms.
Tod was curled up on the sofa, Alpine licking his head, and Redwing flew up onto the dashboard and slept.
“Dinner is served,” Luna said, hading out pancakes to everyone. They all sat on the floor around the small table that separated the living room are from the kitchen area. There was maple syrup available for everyone to put on their individual pancakes, and they tucked into them.
“It’s good to be back in the air,” Bucky said with a smile.
“It sure is. How come you never invited us up here?” Natasha asked.
“Because it’s a mess,” Steve said. All five of them burst out laughing.
“Well, I’m a collector,” Bucky protested.
“You collect broken pens? They leaked all over my hand as I was tidying up,” Steve laughed.
“Alright, alright, it is a bit of a mess. But it’s not now. And it’s going to stay like that. You are going to stay, right? All of you?”
“Why? So we can clean up?” Luna asked, taking a bite of her pancake.
“Well, that is a big help. But also because you’re my friends. It’s be good to have some company.”
“That’d be perfect,” Natasha said.
Everyone else agreed, even Tod.
“You know something?” Luna asked Bucky much later. They were the only two awake.
“What?”
“You’re not half bad.”
#marvel comics#marvel#sam wilson#the falcon imagine#james buchanan bucky barnes#the winter solider fanfiction#natasha romanoff#steampunk#steve rogers#captain america#black widow#bucky fanfic#buckycap#buckynat#sambucky#stevebucky
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Iceland blog
Introduction.
My name is Stephanie May I am twenty-seven years old. I am a second year student at the University of Central Lancashire; I am currently studying International hospitality management. While studying at university I am also working a part time job as a supervisor in the student’s union café. Before I decided to come to University I was working full time as a catering assistant in a canteen, I decided to come to university because I wanted a career and not just a job.
The purpose of this blog is for my course, as we are going on a study visit to Reykjavik, Iceland. I am glad the University has given me this opportunity to visit a beautiful place such as Iceland. It is a place I have always wanted to visit although it would not be the first destination I picked when choosing my summer holiday. I am looking forward to what we have planned.
The Itinerary
Tuesday 28th February at 7:45am arriving at around 10:35am the flight is around 2hours 30minuites. The first stop we will be making will be the Blue Lagoon. This is one of the destinations I have always wanted to visit having a nice relaxing swim in the blue lagoon with a facemask just what is needed after an early morning flight. After our stop at the blue lagoon, we will be straight off to our hotel in the centre of Reykjavik.
Wednesday 1st March: an early start up for breakfast around 7:30-8:00 then on to our next trip at 8.45 am to the Borgarfjordur, which is a fjord and a district in southwestern Iceland, by Faxafloi bay. It takes its name from the farm of Viking and poet Egill Skallagrimsson, of Egil’s Saga fame. (Guide to Iceland, n/a) This should be a nine-hour trip with other stop offs on the way.
Thursday 2nd March: research during the day. 8.45pm Northern light search (weather permitting: see weather watch)
Friday 3rd March: Explore Reykjavik: research conference centre, hotels, restaurants and bars (Northern light search: see weather watch?)
Saturday 4th March: We are being picked up from the hotel at 06.15am for our transfer to Reykjavik airport, which should take around 90 minutes. The Flight is at 11.15am so we should arrive back at Manchester airport at around 15.15pm.
Iceland is known for its cold weather so packing things to keep warm is essential, so this is what is going in my case and hand luggage: -
Case.
Five pairs of thick warm woolly socks
Three Jumpers and two hoodies
Hat, gloves and scarf
Two pairs of boots
Underwear
Thermal top and leggings
Vest tops
T-shirts
Two jackets
PJ’s and slippers.
One pair of jeans
Two pairs of tracksuit bottoms
Toiletries
Plug adapter
Hand luggage.
Swimming costume
Towel
Flip flops
Phone charger
Purse
Hair brush
After doing a little bit of research on Iceland and Reykjavik I’ve found that its quite expensive, so I’ve put a few snack type foods in my case things like crisps and chocolate, just to help bring the cost down. IV budgeted myself 150 GBP which transfers into 20,370.42 ISK. As we have breakfast included with the hotel I am hoping to find a shop near by the hotel, which is not, too expensive and stocking up on food for lunches for the days we have trips. Therefore, that means I only need money for my dinner in the evening. All the trips that are planned have already been paid for so all I need money for is food, drink, and any souvenirs I decide to bring back. When research some of the restaurant and bars in Reykjavik these were some of the more expensive restaurants and bars Jacobsen Loftið is an upmarket bar based in a formal setting, offering variety of Whiskies, cocktails, beers, wines and
Appetizer plates of food. Cocktails from 2400 – 2600 isk. Another bar called Slippbarinn it is a great place to socialise with friends, relax and enjoy drinks with a sit down meal. Cocktails ranging 1900 – 3500 isk. You can get a Starter for upto 3790 isk and a Main meal for 4990 isk. These are the more expensive restaurants that were found.
Expectations.
I don’t really know what to expect from this trip to Iceland, I know it’s a beautiful country with some amazing scenery and the trip is a once in a life time opportunity to be able to see and experience the blue lagoon and the northern lights would be an amazing experience. All I am really expecting is for it to be really cold, windy and dark as they only get up to five-hours of daylight in the winter months.
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