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ducklooney · 3 years

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1-Do you have any headcannon that How do other Kids or the whole family treats shamrock?

Because he is so Lucky like his uncle , but I don’t think he really Likes to be Lucky....I think he just wants to be a normal kid , Like other Kids

(In my headcannon , nobody wants to be friend with shamrock , because they think he is so greedy and selfish and because he is like his uncle gladstone and he is really sad about this , and only Dugan is his friend because he understands shamrock’s feelings![ Huey , Dewey and Louie will be his friends in the future ]

2-do you think minima and shamrock would be friends?

1-Hm...Somehow, as you said, I'm thinking in that direction. I haven’t written fanfiction yet, but I could. I have some ideas in my headcanon and have been thinking about it for a while. Yes, Shamrock Gander has those traits like his Uncle Gladstone, that kind of constant happiness, but both his uncle and he sometimes have the same misfortune. This is how my story about him goes in part (one day I will write a fanfiction about it, when I am free):

“Shamrock was abandoned by his parents as was his uncle Gladstone, when his parents left, whose fate is still unknown. Gladstone has adopted his nephew as his son and protects him from various threats. In time, Shamrock becomes similar to his happy uncle and imitates him. But the guests who visited Gladstone were constantly patting Shamrock on the head, but over time as he got older, he no longer wanted to be anointed like his uncle. Gladstone understood him, because he himself lived in the modern world and followed what was happening. He was an actor who once acted for Hollywood movies and bragged to his cousins about how famous he was and how he followed fashion. By doing so, Gladstone allowed his nephew to change and Shamrock no longer wears a small cap or wore smaller clothes resembling his uncle's, he decided to change his image, wearing a hat like some hipsters, for whom he did not know what they were, as well as a hoodie jacket wouldn't you act like a cool boy. He also changed his hairstyle. Although he is 9 years old, he was really popular at school and was often proclaimed the king of his class. Like his uncle, he began to behave very arrogantly and a bit jerkily towards his fans. He even bragged about some appearances in movies, in which he only had cameo roles, but he didn't care, because he still had his fans.

Unfortunately, although he had fans, he did not have real friends. He never understood what true friendship meant. The only friends he had were his peer Dugan Duck (Fethry’s nephew), Newton Gearloose (Gyro’s nephew) and Huey, Dewey and Louie who were teenagers. Although, he mostly avoided them, even he chased Huey away, even though Huey was also a cool boy. They tried in various ways to dissuade him from his bad behavior, but Shamrock did not listen to them. Dugan Duck, who was a naughty and clumsy boy, but had a brave and gentle heart to admit his mistakes, often did tricks for Shamrock. Shamrock, whenever he got into trouble blamed Dugan for it, and Dugan was unfortunately often punished. Gladstone thus often told his cousin Fethry that he (thinking of Fethry) is a terrible parent and that he does not know how to take care of a boy in the right way, unlike him (thinking of Gladstone) who knows what his boy (Shamrock) needs. Fethry is often sad and doesn't even know how to take care of Dugan, but he had his cousin Donald, who taught him how to take care of boys the right way. Dugan was often friends with Donald's nephews, especially Louie, who was an athlete and knew a lot about pranks, but he was an honest and naive boy and in a way a moral vertical for Dugan. Dugan also helped Newton. Dugan also has some other friends. But Shamrock? Not at the moment, but one day that will change.

One day, the Beagle Brats (nephews of the main Beagle Boys gang) found him alone and tricked him by stealing his clothes, and Shamrock was alone and sadly naked. Many laughed at him and teased him about it. The Beagle Brats also had other problems for him. Shamrock didn't know how to get out. He cried all week, Gladstone didn't know how to comfort him. However, there were Dugan, HDL and Newton who comforted him. Dugan prepared a good revenge for the Beagle Brats and with the help of HDL and his friends, they forced the Beagle Brats to admit their guilt and were embarrassed after that joke in which their pants were taken off and taken off. They realized they were wrong and apologized to Shamrock, and they went home embarrassed. Shamrock then realized he was wrong and apologized to his classmates, as well as Dugan and Donald’s nephews and Gyro’s nephew. Dugan, HDL and Newton forgave Shamrock and hugged each other as if they were brothers. Of course, Shamrock will continue to be partly a jerk, but he will always get into trouble because of that. However, he realizes that he can't do anything without his relatives and admits that and his relatives (Dugan, HDL) help him with that, even though the years between them are different. And Gladstone will someday admit the mistakes of both Fethry and Donald and realize he can’t do without the help of his cousins.”

This is just my interpretation of how I would see those things. This is more of a mix of Disney Duck comics with OG Ducktales and Quack Pack, set these days and has nothing to do with the DT17 universe. So, my headcanon.

Certainly, your idea is good and you have the right to create your canon as you see fit. It would be good to write a story about it, if you are free to do so. Which universe you choose is up to you.

This is just the beginning of what I said, so I will further develop the idea of family relationships between Shamrock and his relatives, as well as making some friends.

2-Certainly they would be friends. Maybe Shamrock would change his idiotic behavior for the better, so that he would no longer be a jerk, but a good and cheerful boy, but he would probably get bored if he hung out with Minima all the time. But surely Minima would have a lot of influence on Shamrock, but not in the way of a loving couple, because I don't ship children until they become older teenagers. If you have any ideas about Shamrock and Minima, feel free to let me know, I’m available. Sorry, I hope you are happy with some of my answers and if you have anything else, feel free to ask me. Thank you again.

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

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7 with indruck?

7: I’m assigned to write a piece rounding up all the bad press that you, a famous celebrity, have been getting and you show up in my office and demand me to write a retraction and get the ‘real’ story”. I went SFW

“Dude! You can’t go in there! Hey, wait, dude, hold on!”

Jake’s voice jars Indrid from staring miserably at his computer screen. But it does nothing to prepare him for the stack of papers that slams into his desk.

“Where the fuck do you get off man?”

Staring him down is a man with dark hair, mis-matched eyes, a scar down his right cheek, and an extremely pissed-off expression. Indrid recognizes him instantly, both from T.V and his last assignment.

“Mr. Newton?”

“Yeah, that’s me, the guy you been draggin through the goddam mud!”

“I-”

“Where are you even gettin this stuff? Substance abuse, bad break-ups, the split between me and my team, who the fuck told you that bullshit?”

“I am not going to reveal my sources.”

“Oh now you get some fuckin ethics?”

“I was just reporting what people told me. I was assigned to round up the press around you now that you’re relaunching your show, and this is what I got. I’m sorry if that upsets you.”

“Upsets me?” Mr. Newton plants his hands on the desk, leaning into Indrid’s space, “buddy, I ain’t even on the same planet as upset right now. I’m actually feelin pretty damn calm, because I know who the fuck is to blame.”

“It’s not my fault” Inrid snaps back, “I got assigned it at random, so if you have issues kindly take them up with Woodbridge.”

“Sir, if you insist on raising a fuss in my office-”

“This him?” Mr. Newton points to Woodbridge as the editor appears from his office.

“Yes.” Indrid glares at Woodbridge through his glasses; he told him these kind of stories would lead to trouble, and it wasn’t even his usual beat.

He braces for Mr. Newton continuing to escalate, but instead the stocky man takes a deep breath , holding his hands up apologetically.

“Look, I’m real sorry, shouldn’t have come in guns blazin like that, and I know you fellas gotta make a livin same as anyone but this kind of stuff-” he whacks the papers into Indrid’s lap, “y’all gotta remember there’s a human on the other end of it.”

“That’s a very fair point, Mr. Newton-” Woodbridge gestures towards the door.

“A human with a damn good lawyer.”

“Mr.Newton, free speech”

“Protects you from the government, not from the Duck. I don’t mind the break-up nonsense, that happened plenty during the first show. Leo, Minerva, and I have been through every relationship configuration known to man, accordin to papers like yours. But the shit about me drinkin? That could damage my career. So could the reasons your ‘sources’ gave for why the show ended. You tellin me you’d hire a fella who apparently yelled at his co-hosts day in and day out and ‘couldn't hack’ bein’ outdoors?” This last question he directs at Indrid, who shakes his head.

“Mr. Newton, retracting the story would look very bad for us. However, we’d be more than willing to publish your side of the story.”

“Close, but my word ain’t enough to counter those claims about me bein’ incompetent. I’m goin’ on a month and a half tour to location scout and shoot the first two episodes. I want one of your writers to come with. Specifically, I want him.” He points to Indrid.

“Wait, why me? I’m not a travel writer, and I have a photography assignment due next week.”

“Because you’re the one who caused this mess, slim.”

Indrid starts to protest when Woodbridge turns to with a smirk.

“Start transferring your assignments, Indrid; you’re going on a roadtrip.”

----------------------------------------

Indrid grumbles to himself as he waits on the curb with his bag. Duck, as Mr. Newton has said to call him, told him to pack only one bag, and to bring his camera (“saw your shots when I was researchin you; you might like shootin out on the road”).

A motorcycle pulls up to the curb as he checks the time on this phone. He doesn’t give the vehicle a second look until the rider speaks to him.

“Glad you’re on time.” The helmet comes off, revealing Duck looking much calmer than the last time he saw him, “let’s get your gear on the bike and get goin’.”

Indrid stares at him in disbelief, “were you at any point going to warm me that I’d be doing this whole trip on a death machine?”

“Didn’t think I had to. Figured you knew this was how I traveled now, given all your, uh, thorough research.” Duck fixes him with a shit-eating grin as he straps his bag onto the bike, then hands him a helmet.

Indrid groans, jams the helmet on and awkwardly climbs onto the back of the bike.

“Gonna have to hang onto me, slim.” Duck’s voice crackles through his helmet, “don’t worry, I ain’t gonna bite you, even if I still kinda feel like it.”

“How encouraging.” He loops his arms around the T.V star, winces as the bike pulls out into traffic. There’s a laugh as he tightens his grip in fear, Duck’s body suddenly the only safe thing in the world.

They zoom onto the freeway, and promptly come to a dead stop in traffic.

“Truly invigorating.” Indrid mutters.

“Ain’t gonna be much fun until we’re outta the city. And I ain’t about to go zippin’ between lanes to cut ahead; great way to get us both killed.”

As they inch along, Indrid starting to sweat from the heat of the pavement, Duck asks, “did you ever watch the show?”

“Is there anyone who didn’t? Wild World was on every day. I’m fairly certain it’s still all Animal Planet plays some days.”

“Yeah but, uh, did you actually watch it on purpose?”

“I did, now and then. I found Minerva’s tendency to try more extreme forms of exploration stressful, but I generally enjoyed what I saw. I’m not surprised you’re the one who picked the show back up; you were always oddly compelling on camera, and it was clear it was a passion project for you.”

“Yeah, it really was. Is. Feels weird to be doin’ it without them. Can’t blame ‘em for havin’ their own lives and goals though. Leo was ready to retire after the Gila Monster incident, and Minerva’s wanted to run an adventure bootcamp for years.”

“You know, if you hurry and explain everything in the next ten minutes, you can just pull off there and drop me at the edge of town.”

A chuckle, “Nice try, Indrid. You ain’t gettin outta roughin’ it that easy.”

“It was worth a try. Alaska was the last episode run, right?”

Duck’s posture shifts so subtly that, were he not holding him, Indrid wouldn’t have noticed it.

“Yeah. Yeah it was. Nothin’ like gettin attacked by a wolf and takin a bunch of rabies shots to the gut to put you off filmin’.”

“It really was a wolf? Everything I read said-”

“I’d misidentified what attacked us? Yeah, I know. American wolves never really go after humans, that’s why we were so fuckin’ screwed when this one did. Poor fella. He was sick. We coulda proved what happened except I told Leo to destroy the footage and we had a knock down, drag out fight over it until he did.”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“Because I didn’t want my pain, Minerva’s pain, and the wolf’s pain to become some goddamn viral sensation!” Duck snaps.

Indrid decides to drop it, feels Duck sag in the drivers seat. In spite of dragging him out into the wilderness, Indrid doesn’t bear Duck any bad feeling. And he doesn’t like seeing him sad.

“I, ah, I always liked the episodes where you showcased moths and butterflies. Moths are my favorite creatures, they’re so varied but so overlooked.”

Nothing but the traffic around them, then, “I once saw a Luna Moth bigger’n my hand. Didn’t get it on camera but damn was it a stunner.”

“Where did you see it?”

“Now there’s a story…”

By the time Duck finishes the cars are finally moving, and Duck changes them into the lane leading towards the exit for a single lane, county highway.

“Fuckin’ finally. Alright Indrid, hold tight.”

What follows is simultaneously the most thrilling and most terrifying four hours of Indrid’s life as Duck speeds down the road, win whipping around them and the world going by in a blur that’s much more alarming when not behind metal and glass. They find a rest stop, where Indrid shotguns an entire bag of skittles under Duck’s amused gaze, and get back on the road for an only slightly less terrifying four hours more.

They stop for the night at a KOA (“you’re lucky, slim, I got us a cabin to ease you into things”). Whereupon Indrid is treated to the sight of Duck stripping off his road gear, back muscular and sporting several scars.

“How are you likin’ life on the road?” Duck asks, not turning but starting to undo his pants. Indrid doesn’t look away until he’s down to his boxers.

“You know, it’s growing on me.”

They make their first shooting destination the next afternoon, setting up camp in a mostly-empty campground before hiking off into the woods. Duck shoots B-roll while Indrid photographs, the pair working in near total silence before meeting up with their contact near a jumble of boulders.

“Nice to see you again, Thacker.” Duck shakes the man’s hand, and gets a pat on the back.

“Good to you too, sport. Who’s the new fella?”

“My biographer.” Duck deadpans.

Duck spends the rest of the day filming as Thacker helps him find nest and burrows and creatures to shoot and narrate over. In spite of the show being done on a single camera, Duck is compelling as always when he talks about the natural world.

Indrid just wishes he’d sprung for better hiking boots.

“Ooof.” He mutters, face down on his sleeping bag.

“Not surprised, we did about ten miles all told today.”

“I repeat. Oof.”

A kind, sympathetic laugh, “C’mon, you’ll feel better after some dinner.”

Later that night, as he’s climbing into his sleeping bag, Duck pokes his head into the tent.

“Psst, Indrid, come look.”

Indrid follows him out, kneels by a clump of flowers when he waves him down.

“See, look, riiight there” Duck points, “it’s a Hummingbird Moth.”

Indrid gasps, delighted, and watches the pollinator flit from blossom to blossom. Duck sits beside him, answering his questions when he asks them, until it’s too dark for either of them to see.

--------------------------------

Duck never thought he’d have a travel companion again. Not after Alaska, not after the attack and what came in the nights to follow.

He certainly never assumed the wiry, silvery haired writer who’d nearl fucked everything up would turn out to be that person. But Indrid, for all his initial skepticism, has become an excellent partner. He’s easy going, eccentric enough that Duck’s own quirks don’t phase him, quiet;y awkward, and a damn good photographer. The fact his alienly handsome face has become a bit windburnt and his pale hair a little longer only adds to his charm.

Christ, Duck wants to rip those red glasses off and kiss him until he’s breathless.

Currently, he’s missing the feeling of long arms around his waist, as he left Indrid back with a family whose jeep had run out of gas. They’re in one of the long, monotonous stretches of desert highway where passersby are few and cell phone service is unreliable, so Duck volunteered to ride ahead to the next gas station and bring some back. As the Jeep comes into view, he sees the family waving. Indrid is leaning against the car, smiling as if Duck is the greatest thing he’s ever seen.

That settles it; when they make Santa Fe, he’s calling The Weekly Rounds and asking Woodbridge to extend Indrid’s assignment. And if the old man refuses, well, Animal Planet is thrilled to have him back, and made it clear they’d be happy to pay for an additional camera man.

------------------------------

This time they’re the only ones in the campground, and Indrid suspects it might technically be closed. Indrid could do this forever. He wants to stay like this, with Duck, day in and day out, have their evenings be like this. Duck makes a fire, keeping it small to be safe, and the evening progresses like normal, the two of them swapping stories and munching on the dinner they whipped up from leftovers from the last gas station. Then the moon rises, two days from full, and Duck doubles over with a groan.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck.”

“What’s wrong?” Indrid moves to help him, but Duck raises his hand to stop him.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, ‘Drid, fuck, I thought I had another day, thought we could make it somewhere I could keep you safe.”

“Safe from what? Duck, please, you’re hurt, I can call for help, just hold on.”

“No” Duck snarls, still hunched over, “you ain’t callin anyone. What you’re gonna do is run, far and as fast as you can, away from me. Find a tree, find a cave, flag down a car if you can find one. Go, please, fuck.” He falls off the stump he’s sitting on, and in spite of his instructions Indrid tries to help him up.

“Go!” It’s a growl now, and when Duck looks up at him his face is changing shape. Duck drags himself away from the fire, into the shadows, and Indrid turns, starting to run. There’s howl of pain and he stops. He can’t leave Duck like this. He won’t.

Resolute, he turns back to the camp and immediately regrets his decisions. Whatever is in the shadows isn’t human, not anymore. It’s growling low and labored, as it rises onto two feet and howls.

“Oh fuck me.” Indrid doesn’t dare turn his back, tries to slowly creep away and trips on a stray piece of firewood. The monster lowers to all fours, padding into the firelight across from him. It’s fur is dark and shaggy, it’s hands sport claws and when it opens it’s mouth to grin at him it’s teeth glitter like rows of knives.

He has to keep the fire between him and it, even if he has to spend his night running in some Scooby-Doo style circle around the fire pit. It’s his only chance.

In one, large leap, the werewolf clears the fire and lands in front of him, front paws bracketing his body when he tries to crawl back.

“Told you to run, slim.”

“I, I can’t.”

“Didn’t think you were stubborn to the point of dyin’.”

“Y-you told me not to run from predators, and I c-cannot drive the bike. And, and I didn’t, I couldn’t leave you.”

“Ain’t that sweet.” Duck grins again, “but why do you think I told Leo and Minerva I wasn’t safe to be around no more? Because a werewolf don’t know friend from foe.”

“That’s, that’s a lie. Y-you clearly know me, you know your past, you’re not some mindless killer ahgod.” He whimpers as a muzzle finds the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply before sending hot, hungry breath across his skin.

“Mmmmm, you smell good, sugar.”

“You’re not going to eat me.” Indrid says, eyes shut.

“You seem real sure about that.” Another snuffle, tongue dragging along his throat.

“You’re not because you are still Duck, just very large and covered with fur and with a mouth full of unnecessarily sharp teeth, and even though you seem convinced you’ve become bloodthirsty you are still you.” It comes out in a rush and he holds his breath as a clawed hand cups the back of his head. Duck tugs his head back, nosing along his exposed neck. He stares at the stares, praying they’re not the last thing he sees.

“I could rip your goddamn throat out.” Duck says matter-of-factly.

“Do you want to?” He whispers, hands coming up instinctively to protect his vital organs.

A long growl, and then Duck’s face blots out the night sky, “No. I don’t.”

“Ohthankgoodness.”

Duck rumbles out a laugh, “that’s puttin it mildly, slim. No one ever stuck around long enough to see what I’d do because I always hid myself or they had the goddamn good sense to run when I said too. Always assumed as soon as I was all the way changed, I’d wanna hurt people, even if they were people I loved.” He plucks Indrid’s glasses off, setting them carefully on the picnic table before using the pad of his thumb to wipe away a tear he hadn’t realized was there.

“What do you want to do instead?”

“In general, or to you?”

“Both?” Indrid is puzzled by his phrasing.

“Kinda amped up, like I wanna go for a run. Transformin’ basically releases a shit ton of adrenaline so your body just doesn’t collapse from the pain. But as far as you’re concerned…” the muzzle his back, snuffling at his face and chest, “dunno, mostly just wanna keep you close. Protect you. Some part of the wolf-brain is kinda just screamin ‘mine’ over and over again.”

“Oh. Ah. That’s, that’s good.” It’s also painfully arousing, but he’s not quite ready to admit that aloud yet.

“Probably helps that you’re wearing my shirt, since it means my scent is all over you already.”

“You let me borrow it AHHEY, gahthattickles” Indrid cackles as licks and nuzzles his face.

“Aww, didn’t know you were ticklish, sugar.” Duck grabs him, begins mercilessly rubbing his face on any exposed skin he can find.

“I’m not you are just very AHhehe hairy!” In retaliation Indrid reaches between them and scritches his fingers against Ducks chest and belly.

ThwupThwup

They both look at Duck’s tail with surprise. Indrid rubs his belly again.

ThwupThwup

“Didn’t know it did that. I mean, guess makes sense on account of bein’ kinda canine, but I guess I ain’t ever been really happy when I been like this before.”

“Should I keep doing that?”

“Fuck yeah. Hold on, here.” Duck adjusts so he’s on his back with Indrid more or less on top of him. Indrid resumes petting him, Duck making little happy whines as he does.

“Damn, that feels good sugar, ooh right.”

“Why do you keep calling me that? It’s a pet name.”

“I, uh, fuck, um, fuck, I didn’t, meant to say, uh, fuck.” A deep breath as Indrid sits up to meet his eyes, “I’m real fuckin into you, ‘Drid. I, I didn’t wanna say nothin until we were somewhere you could bail out easily if you needed to. But I ain’t felt this way about anyone in years.”

“Is that wolf-you talking or you-you talking?” Indrid asks, toying with a patch of fur.

“Both. I wanna be with you, and wanna keep travelin with you as my partner, as my, uh, my boyfriend. As my mate. Okay, that last bit was definitely the wolf talking.”

“I...I would like that as well, Duck. I didn’t know how to say it, I was afraid that what happened with your friends meant you didn’t want to be close to anyone. Including me.”

Duck sighs, “I wish I’d known then what we figured out tonight. Maybe things woulda ended a little better between us three. I just, I couldn’t face the idea of bein’ out on a shoot with ‘em and havin this exact thing happen.”

“I must admit, the lack of a full moon is rather confusing.”

“It ain’t just the full moon. It’s a few days after and before too, and I thought I had one more before it hit. Plan was to sneak out of the hotel in Santa Fe and hole myself up in a cave somewhere.”

Indrid strokes his cheek, the fur a little coarser there, “That was what attacked you three, I take it.”

“Uh huh. We were trackin it, thinkin’ it was some kind of huge predator we might be able to film. It jumped Minerva first, but she’s a tough one, managed to hold her own and only got scratched up. I pulled it off her and it bit me. I, uh, I shot it point blank while it was doin’ that. Turned into a man as it fell in the dirt. Leo and Minerva said I did what I had to but I...well, let’s just say I still see that fellas face a lot in my dreams.”

“No wonder you wanted the footage destroyed.” Indrid murmurs.

Duck nods, waves one hand in front of his face, “damn skeeters, c’mon, let’s get in the tent.”

The tent is a tight fit, but Indrid couldn’t be happier. He crawls onto Duck’s chest, nestling against his fur with a sigh.

“Now if you have bad dreams when you’re like this, you have someone to to hold.”

Duck kisses the top of his head, “Thanks, sugar.”

Indrid falls asleep atop a giant wolfman, and wakes up to the morning sun and much smaller, human man sprawled beneath him, who he wakes with a flurry of kisses.

They make Santa Fe by noon, riding in feeling freer then either of them has in a long time. When they ride out the next morning, Indrid has a new job and Duck has a new cameraman. But all either can think about at the moment is his new boyfriend, and the future spreading out ahead of them beneath the rising sun.

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #celebrity au #werewolf AU #meet ugly #prompt fills

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midnightsnapdragon · 4 years

Text

the bone season [unofficial ost]

Besides this earth, and besides the race of men, there is an invisible world and a kingdom of spirits.

an instrumental playlist for the bone season series, where each song corresponds to a scene or quotation from the books. cover credit goes to the lovely @mareshmallow, who kindly allowed me to borrow from the tbs edit she made last summer (x)

please click below for the full playlist with all the proper annotations!

link to spotify // link to 8tracks // link to youtube

THE BONE SEASON [13]

A Narnia Lullaby (Harry Gregson-Williams) Besides this earth, and besides the race of men, there is an invisible world and a kingdom of spirits. [Prelude]

No Cheating Death (Nathan Barr) No safer place. More like no safe place. Not for us. [London 2059]

The General (Martin Phipps) “XX-59-40.” His voice was deep and soft. “I lay claim to you.” [The keeper]

Long, Long Time Ago (Javier Navarrete) Every day, I would walk to that field and read for hours, watching the poppies nod their heads around me. [Salvia memories]

Slow Wake (Aaron Martin) Soothsayers always said that about Nick when they saw him, that he was like snow. [Nick's theme]

Pleasured Distractions (Trevor Morris) I found myself in a world of dreams. [Possessing the butterfly]

The Haunting Of Hill House Main Titles (The Newton Brothers) There were lines of plaster faces above the windows, at least fifty of them on each of the longest walls. [Death masks]

The Poem (Martin Phipps) “And now we are sworn to protect each other always.” [The golden cord]

To Speak of Solitude (Brambles) “Perhaps I feel safest when I think of nothing.” [The empty dreamscape]

Slughorn's Confession (Nicholas Hooper) Nick was looking at the sky. "Hey, look,” he said. “What?” “Arcturus. I've never seen it that bright.” [The final memory]

Desolation (Adam Hurst) “This place has afflicted me with a terrible wanderlust.” [Warden's theme]

Eros (Ludovico Einaudi) Don't stop, don’t stop [The prohibition]

London Calling (Michael Giacchino) The train [Interlude]

THE MIME ORDER [12]

Danse Macabre (Camille Saint-Saëns) We unhorse the Reaper. [Song of the underworld]

Oogie Boogie's Song (Vitamin String Quartet) “I’m a mime-lord, O my lovely, not a mime-peasant” [Jaxon's theme]

This Is Halloween (Instrumental) (Danny Elfman) “Roll up, roll up for the sale of the month! Don't forget death - it won't forget you!” [Covent Garden marketplace]

Pathetic Fallacy (Trevor Morris) Puppets on a hangman's string. [The Archon]

The King is Dead (Martin Phipps) On the night of November the first, 2059, the Spiritus Club shall exhibit A SCRIMMAGE for dominance of the central cohort. [A day of change]

Briony (Dario Marianelli) Words give wings [The penny dreadful]

Liquid Spear Waltz (Michael Andrews) “Have you ever seen this famous Rag and Bone Man?” [Tunnels beneath Camden]

Did You Kill My Wife? (Hans Zimmer) He bowed to me, keeping his eyes on my face. “Let us see if dreamwalkers can dance.” [Overture]

Gilbert's Door (Richard Wells) “I'll still go out.” [Moonlit tryst]

I Hate My Life (Michael Giacchino) “Of course, this is a duel,” Jaxon said, “much like the duels of the monarch days, when honour was settled with blood and steel.” Swing, spin. "Whose honour are we settling today, I wonder?” [Showdown]

Duck Shoot (Harry Gregson-Williams) Voyants, do you hear me? Do you hear me? [The silenced]

See What I've Become (Zack Hemsey) “The theatre of war opens tonight.” [End of act II]

THE SONG RISING [8]

The Bells (Ramin Djawadi) Abyssal black eyes [Hildred Vance]

Lord M (Martin Phipps) “You are what change will cost me.” [Goodbye]

Beginning of the End (Movement III) (The Newton Brothers) Look, seillean. Look. He had sounded lost in a way I hadn't understood. The sky is falling down on us. [Father]

Coward (Hans Zimmer) "They’re here. They’re already here.” [The Vance trap]

Statues (Alexandre Desplat) I would not show fear. [Dark wings]

Arcanine (Ursine Vulpine) I remember watching the glass pyramid shatter. It must have exploded in a split second, but in my mind, it lasted for eternity. [Banishing the poltergeist]

Double Bind (Rudi Arapahoe) All that was left of Senshield was a cavernous hole in the æther. [Kin]

Opening (Craig Armstrong) “One day they'll call this country by its name again.” [Paige's theme]

#i read this series casually three years ago #CASUALLY #eh it's not bad she says #EH MAYBE NOT MY TYPE SHE SAYS #AND NOW LOOK AT ME #FULLY INVESTED #EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED #the latter half of tsr deadass had me in cardiac arrest #anyway come talk to me about my song choices i will gladly shriek about these books with anyone at all #the bone season #the mime order #the song rising #the bone season playlist

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jupiterjunebug · 6 years

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Going with option 1, I considered doing both but. I. Can’t write short things because this is 2.4k words.

Anyway, I’ve never written Indruck before so here goes nothing! (I’m also still open for more prompts)

Duck hadn’t intended to get famous. He’d wanted to avoid it, actually. Back when he was six, the rest of his classmates wanted to be astronauts and rock stars and he had just wanted some peace and quiet. While most of them had grown out of their little kid aspirations, he’d slid into adulthood with the exact same life goals as he’d had when he was seven and still going by the name he’d been born with.

But apparently people thought the four hundred page novel about Fowler the Forest Ranger and his best friend June, the one he’d written as a joke while nineteen and high off his ass, was high art. And apparently he hadn’t shut Minerva’s visions out of his head as well as he’d wanted to, because the big money capitalists Fowler and June brought to justice weren’t…fictional.

Accidentally revealing an embezzlement/murder/stock-market-rigging conspiracy made you famous, as it turned out.

Made you famous, and made it so you’d need someone following you around all. The damn. Time.

Well, a normal person would need a bodyguard. Duck wasn’t normal, despite how much he wished he was, but he couldn’t go to his literary agent and say “hey, I’ve got super strength and a sword that talks, I think I’ve got any assassination attempts handled.” So he stayed quiet and pretended it wasn’t annoying as hell to have some dude over his shoulder when he was trying to maintain and educate about Monongahela National Forest.

He also pretended that the most annoying bodyguard – well, former bodyguard – of all hadn’t just accosted him on his way home from work.

“You’re going to die,” Indrid Cold said flatly, stepping into the streetlight like some kind of serial killer. Duck’s current bodyguard shifted, hand falling to the gun at his waist.

“Indrid, you can’t just say shit like that,” Duck said, holding up a hand. His bodyguard frowned – frowned more deeply, he was always frowning – but also relaxed. A little.

Indrid adjusted his glasses, knowing Indrid’s disdain for having to buy new things they were probably the same dinged up ones he’d worn six years ago, and stepped toward them.

“My apologies.” He didn’t sound sorry, but he at least put in the effort to sound like he kind of wanted to sound sorry. “But this is rather urgent.”

“It’s eight pm on a Tuesday, ‘drid.” Duck winced at the nickname. He hadn’t meant to let it slip out, because he had a No Letting On You Have Any Fondness Left For People That Ghost You policy, but it seemed old habits took half a decade to die. He took a deep breath. It didn’t help, so he took another one. That also didn’t help. He gave up keeping cool about all this, and settled for just clenching his jaw instead of turning on his heel and fleeing into his apartment.

You cannot flee from your responsibilities, a voice in his head that sounded exactly like Minerva whispered.

Fuck that, he thought back. Indrid Cold isn’t one of my responsibilities.

“That changes nothing,” Indrid insisted. “You’re going to die. Tonight. In ten minutes, to be exact.”

Duck couldn’t see Indrid’s eyes behind the mirrored red frames, but he could imagine the narrowing of his eyes. Could imagine how, if Duck’s bodyguard weren’t there, he’d probably let himself look worried.

God. Fucking Damnit.

“This one of your bad feelin’s? Or didja take up murder as a side gig?”

Indrid gave up the stony face bullshit and let out a huff of frustration. His casual stride lost all of its casual as he stomped over and stuck a bony finger into Duck’s chest.

“Duck Newton you know very well that when I-“ He turned to Duck’s bodyguard, glasses glinting ominously, “If you pull that gun on me, it will end with a bullet in my leg and another in your neck. That is not a threat, it’s a fact.”

Duck reached up and put a hand over Indrid’s, pushing it back down slowly. Indrid’s hands were still cold. There were still stains of something dark underneath his jagged fingernails.

“Bad feeling, then.”

“Eight minutes, Duck,” Indrid hissed. Indrid hissed. Okay, maybe Duck should take this a little seriously, if Indrid was going to sound like that.

“Okay,” Duck said, eloquently. “Okay. What do we do?”

Duck had been having a decent enough evening. Well, decent might’ve been a strong word for it. It was the same evening he had almost every day, which was how Duck liked his evenings, thank you very much. None of this ominous prophecy bullshit. That was one of the things Duck hadn’t missed.

At least Indrid wasn’t finishing his sentences. Duck’s current bodyguard didn’t do chill, and he was already looking a little perturbed about the whole “promising a gruesome death” thing.

Indrid swallowed, and Duck thought his expression was something approaching relief.

“Good. Good. I’m…glad you asked that.” Indrid glanced over his shoulder. “It wasn’t all that likely you’d ask that, and it’s the only way we make it out of this.”

Duck realized then that he still had his hand over Indrid’s. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away, and the chill of Indrid’s body felt more like home than Duck was comfortable with. Old habits take half a decade to die, which is embarrassing on account he’s the one that got dumped. He should be the one that was over this.

“Yeah, well. Much as this-“ Duck gestured at Indrid with his free hand, “has always been a pain in my ass…” He sighed. “You’re usually right.”

“I’m always right, Duck.”

Duck snorted, stepping away and taking the deep breath he was only just realizing he couldn’t take with Indrid so close.

“No, you’re not. Thinkin’ that way’s always been your damn problem.”

He sounded sadder than he’d meant to. He was going for pissed, because. Well. Duck’d found out Indrid was done with him when he went to sleep one night and woke up to find him gone. It’d taken thirty minutes of wondering whether he’d gone and died or something before Duck’s new bodyguard knocked on his door and informed him Indrid had asked his boss to be taken off the job.

But no, he was sad. And pissed. And pissed he was sad.

“You don’t understand,” Indrid said, like he was explaining his ability to see the future to some child and not somebody who fucking knew how it worked, who he’d told about it while lying in bed together on a warm Summer day, “It was necessary. You have no idea what would have…” Indrid froze, breath catching. “The timeline moved up. Five minutes. We can talk about this later.”

“Sir, are you sure we-“

“I’m not talking to you,” Indrid interrupted, not looking in the bodyguard’s direction. Then, his expression crumbled, and he sounded almost desperate as he said, “Please, Duck.”

Well, shit. He’d already meant to say yes, but now he…

“Yeah,” he said, then took a deep breath, despite the fact he knew it wouldn’t work.

Indrid grabbed his hand properly, dragging him away from his apartment.

“You can’t just-“

“-Drag him away?” Indrid called over his shoulder. “Yes, I can. Right, Duck?”

“It’s fine,” Duck replied. It wasn’t fine, of course. Duck wanted to go home and sleep, or fast forward to the part of the evening where Indrid talked to him about the past instead of the future, but this would have to do.

He could hear his bodyguard trailing after them as Indrid pushed him toward the open door of his car, parked just a few feet off from the street lamp he’d first appeared under. It was the same car that he’d owned six years ago. Jesus, had anything about him changed since then?

Duck tripped a little on the open door of the car, stumbling onto the seat. Then, faster than Duck would’ve thought Indrid could move, he slammed the door shut and darted into the driver’s seat, slamming it too. Duck heard the click of the lock and dove to try and pull it open.

“Child safety lock,” Indrid called back, and Duck barely resisted the urge to swear at him. Then he realized he didn’t have to, on account of-

“What the fuck Indrid?” Duck shouted as his bodyguard yanked at the door handle. He heard Indrid sigh from up front, his I have to do this for the greater good but I’m going to pretend it doesn’t affect me because I’m Indrid Cold and this is my burden to bear sigh. Then Indrid rolled down the window enough to address Duck’s bodyguard.

“I may have been a bit dishonest, Mr. Ryan. There’s no future where I let you into the car and you don’t, well. You know what’s happening in ten seconds, right?”

Then he rolled up the window.

“Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four.”

An explosion rocked the car.

“Hm,” Indrid said, eyeing the flames as they died down. “It was early.”

“What the FUCK Indrid?”

“He was planning to take you up to your room and kill you.” Indrid’s voice cracked in a way that probably embarrassed him. “That was the insurance policy, in case you figured him out and tried to run.” Indrid smiled, teeth sharp and glinting, “Don’t worry, it was nothing personal on his part. It was a business transaction.”

“Yeah, thanks, that makes me feel just peachy.”

Duck reached up and trailed his hand down the window, down a spider web of cracks on the outside the window. It hadn’t gotten all the way through, and the glass felt smooth and unbroken beneath his fingers.

“I know it bothers you when people hate you,” Indrid said.

“Yeah, well-“

“-why did I come back then? I don’t hate you, Duck.”

This was a bad time to have this conversation. A bad place. He’d pictured this argument, a few years back, when he still thought about Indrid often enough for it to keep him up at night. It’d always happened in his apartment, when Indrid came home and actually apologized for disappearing. Which might’ve been a little unrealistic because Indrid Cold never-

“I’m sorry.”

Duck wasn’t sure he’d actually heard that, or if he was getting his old fantasies mixed in with real life. Then Indrid unbuckled his seatbelt, turning to sit backward on his seat and stare at Duck around his headrest. He shifted his glasses down his nose, orange eyes locked with Duck’s. Duck raised an eyebrow, and tried to keep his voice even.

“Sorry about what?”

Indrid blinked. Duck thought he might’ve been surprised.

“I…what? Duck, you-“

“I thought we were on the same page, before. But apparently not, since you skipped town. So, what is it you’re sorry about?”

“It was complicated, I had to-“

“You had to?” Duck laughed, it was an ugly noise, and he thought there might’ve been something that sounded like it might turn into crying mixed in.

“Yes, you have no idea what would have happened if-“

“No! I don’t! That’s how it goes when you don’t tell people things.” Duck didn’t like yelling. It reminded him too much of the scuffles that broke out when he used to hang out with the “bad kids” at school. The ones that always led to police sirens, and stern looks from Sheriff Nealy. Here he was, though, his voice echoing around Indrid’s old car and Indrid just staring at him like he hadn’t seen it coming. Duck winced, and managed to rein himself in. “You leavin’ ain’t the kind of shit that gives me visions, Indrid.”

Even if it’d felt like that kind of disaster, at the time.

“This isn’t how this is supposed to go.” Indrid looked away, hands rising to fiddle with his seatbelt. “When we got into the car, every future ended with you forgiving me, or with you leaving.” He tilted his head, streaky black-white hair falling in front of his face. Duck didn’t say one of those things was definitely going to happen. Then he’d have to pick.

“That ain’t an explanation.”

Indrid didn’t say anything, tilting his glasses back up over his eyes. Hiding. Duck resisted the urge to look out his window at his undoubtedly crispy bodyguard.

Duck loved the quiet of the woods. Maybe because it wasn’t real quiet, it was birds and the shifting of trees, and the crunching of his feet down a well-trodden path. This kind of quiet, though? Duck hated it.

“I was going to kill you,” Indrid said, just as Duck was getting the urge to get out and go inside and pretend this was a dream.

He still kind of wanted to do that, except maybe he’d add a bit of screaming into his pillow on at the end.

“You want to say that in a way that makes sense?”

“Each day, I saw a future where you died. Each future, it was because I…failed. I was too slow. I had a vision and it distracted me until after you took a bullet.” There was a hollowness in his voice that had Duck torn between reaching out and shifting as far to the other side of the car as he could.

“So you left.”

“If I left, the future was clear,” Indrid insisted. “Every time I thought about going to Kepler and seeing you, you were there, and perfectly fine without me. It was better-“

“Why didn’t you tell me, then?”

“You wouldn’t have…appreciated my reasoning. We would have fought. You wouldn’t have wanted me to leave, I wouldn’t have been able to convince you it was-“

“That doesn’t matter.” Harsher than Duck had intended, maybe. Not harsher than he wanted to be, but he was too tired to be as harsh as he wanted to be. “You think dropping me convinced me it was better?”

“It was easier for both of-“ He cut himself off and said, with Duck, “It was easier for you, Indrid.” Indrid let his forehead fall against the headrest and laughed, shoulders spasming with it. “Maybe so.”

Duck sagged back against his seat. He was too tired to be as harsh as he wanted to be. He was too tired to want to be as harsh as he wanted to be.

“Why’re you here, Indrid?”

Indrid shook his head, voice muffled from the headrest.

“I thought about coming here, and in half the futures I stopped for gas. I got here, and I was the one who found you after…” He gestured out the window. Another laugh. “Leaving didn’t do anything, did it?”

“I’ve almost died plenty of times, Indrid,” Duck said, slowly. “If it’s all the same, I’d’ve rather died with you, at least back then.”

“Now?”

Duck ground his teeth, thinking.

“Don’t know,” he said, finally, deciding as he said it.

“Would you like to find out?” Indrid asked. “If…you’d have me back.”

Duck didn’t smile. He’d figure out whether he wanted to smile at Indrid later, once they were inside and he could collapse into bed and figure out whether he’d invite Indrid to lay next to him. But he reached out for Indrid’s hand and Indrid took it, nails digging in as he held on for dear life.

He’d figure it out. They’d figure it out.

After all, Duck did need a new bodyguard.

#Indruck #Duck Newton #Indrid Cold #The Adventure Zone #TAZ Amnesty #Jules writes fanfic

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tunisvillagefayoumegypt · 2 years

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BOOK NOW Kom El Dikka Agri Lodge Tunis village Fayoum Egypt

Kom El Dikka Agri lodge is a 30-year old privately owned Olive farm, which has been developed into an Agri-tourism lodge. Overlooking Lake Qarun, this property occupies a beachfront location. The accommodation will provide you with a flat-screen TV and a terrace .There is a full kitchen with a microwave and an oven. Private bathroom also comes with a shower. Guests can enjoy an array of activities such as horseback riding, jogging and fishing at the property. At Kom El Dikka Agri Lodge you will find a garden, barbecue facilities and a terrace. Other facilities offered at the property include luggage storage and a children's playground. The property offers free parking.

Enjoy an unforgettable stay at the home of world-renowned architect Omar El-Farouk at the serene Tunis Village overlooking the scenic Qarun lake.

The space Disciple of legendary architect Hassan Fathy, Omar El-Farouk is one of the world’s most influential architects in the world of islamic architecture.

BOOK NOW Kom El Dikka Agri Lodge

He has designed and built many projects in the Middle East and around the world. He spent over 20 years building his house in Tunis Village, wanting to create a great example of traditional architecture. Most importantly he wanted people to experience how good proportions, suitable materials and different construction techniques harmonize together to generate fine architecture. This house has an Islamic design that blends authenticity and modernity simulating the Mamluk and Fatemi eras’ architecture.

This house became famous as the home of the character Badr portrayed by the great actor Sayed Ragab in the famous Ramadan series Newton’s Game. The rentable studio in the house is fully equipped and has a balcony with a stunning view of the lake.

Other things to note No unmarried couples allowed please. Government regulations.

Kom El Dikka Restaurant

Explore the world of Egyptian cuisine here. Mouthwatering duck will impress you at the first bite. It's easy to find this restaurant due to the convenient location. The energetic staff welcomes guests all year round. Fabulous service is a strong point that plays a great role for the success of Kom Al Dekka. Here you will pay attractive prices. It's always good to try something new, enjoying the nice atmosphere.

#fayoum #egypt

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tsgmobilebayalabama · 5 years

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September Scouted Calendar

Easing into our fall routines means a return to structure—plus an exciting list of can’t-miss happenings throughout our area. From open houses to charity events to an extraordinary culinary weekend, here’s what we’re looking forward to in September.

Harvest Jewels Labor Day Sale

60% off select merchandise.

Haley Dermatology September Specials

Halo Laser Buy 1 Treatment, Get 1 Half Priced

Revision Skincare 15% off

Newton (Jeuveau $10/unit Introductory Price

Atchison Home September 30 % off Upholstery Sale

30% off includes all in stock and custom upholstered ottomans, headboards, sofas and chairs.

Custom order deadlines: Thanksgiving September 13th and Christmas October 11th

SALE ends September 30th!

Hot Restore: Hips & Hamstrings

September 2nd, 9th & 16th | 7pm | Soul Shine Yoga Daphne

This class focuses on poses that will deeply open the hips, hamstrings, quads, low back and side body. Allow the heat to help you open more deeply and stretch more fully, while you heal your body and calm your mind. + $15 drop in, packages available + bring yoga mat and water + Heated, All levels, 60 minutes

$5 Mommy & Me Yoga

September 3rd | 11am | Soul Shine Yoga Daphne

This class will focus on providing physical, mental, and emotional support for new mothers. We will focus on correcting imbalances created during pregnancy, and rebuilding strength in the body. Specific movements and songs will be integrated throughout class to entertain baby as well as support their physical and emotional development. The class will include 45 minutes of movement, then time to connect with other moms. Moms and moms-to-be are welcome to join without baby , with the understanding that this will not be a quiet class. +Bring yoga mat, water, baby blanket +Recommended for babies up to age 3 +$5 Drop in

$5 Buti Yoga

September 3rd | 7pm | Soul Shine Yoga Daphne

Get your workout on! This class has a foundation in power yoga fused with primal movement, dynamic asana, cardio-sprints and deep abdominal toning. Music guides classes to create a high-intensity workout that transforms the body and soul. Come be a part of a tribe striving for empowerment, health, happiness & confidence. + $5 drop in + bring yoga mat and water + class located at 28623 Main St Daphne, AL Led by trained Buti Yoga Teacher, Amber Warner, RYT. *This class has more of a workout/fitness feel, rather than a traditional yoga class...that's what makes it awesome and fun! All levels welcome,

$5 Yoga on Tap

September 3rd | 6:00pm | Fairhope Brewing Company

Soul Shine Yoga’s Hoppy Hour meets at the Fairhope Brewing Company. It’s a fun 60 minute Vinyasa Flow class for all levels. Come for the yoga, stay for the outstanding local beer! Bring a mat and a friend. (All levels, unheated) | Learn More

Old Crow Medicine Show

September 4th | 7:00pm | Saenger Theatre

With 11 albums, two GRAMMYs, countless live performances and a certified Platinum single, Wagon Wheel, this string band has made their mark with fans of country, folk, and rock music.

Foundations of Yoga

September 5th, 12th & 19th | 9:30am | Soul Shine Yoga Daphne

A basic, supportive class that is great for all beginning yoga students. You will be guided with safe and supportive instruction as you learn the foundation of yoga poses used in Hatha and Vinyasa Yoga. You will also learn relaxation techniques and pranayama/breath work with a focus on yoga philosophy. We use props such as bolsters, blocks and straps, as needed, to assist in deepening your poses and setting up proper alignment. All levels. Unheated

Fairhope ArtWalk

September 6th | 6pm-8pm | Downtown Fairhope

Fairhope First Friday Art Walk Visit our local merchants in Downtown Fairhope as they open late and highlight the art community. Art Walk happens every first Friday of each month.

Daphne Farmers’ Market

September 6th, 13th, 20th & 27th | 2pm-6pm | 2305 Hwy 98

Shop local farmers with locally grown produce, baked goods and great gulf fish.

Open House Marathon

September 8th | 2pm-4pm | LLB&B Real Estate

On Sunday from 2pm to 4pm, doors will be open all across Mobile with LLB&B agents jumping at the chance to show you around. Here are the addresses:

3815 Riviere du Chein Road

8600 Anvil Court East

4813 Pine Court

6441 Sugar Creek Drive North

202 Stillwood Lane

71 Ridgelawn Drive East

3905 Mountain Drive

Pours for Purrs

September 10th | 5pm-7pm | Fairhope Brewing Company

From 5pm to 7pm, for every pour, Stray Love gets $1! Come join FBC and get your craft beer on with 15 brews on tap! Proceeds benefit the Stray Love Foundation, a 501C3 non-profit animal rescue group.

Downtown Fairhope Condo Open House

September 12th | 4pm-6pm | 52 N Church Street

Join Courtney and Morris Real Estate for a preview of two luxury condos in the heart of downtown Fairhope while enjoying wine and cheese refreshments.

LODA ArtWalk

September 13th | 6pm | Downtown Mobile

Starting at 6pm on the second Friday of every month, galleries, restaurants, shops, institutions, etc in the Lower Dauphin (LoDa) Arts District open their doors for a family-friendly evening of exhibitions and entertainment by area artists.

Dawson Morgan Exhibition

September 13th | 6pm-9pm | Sophiella Gallery

CENTERPIECE: A ceramic collection of coastal art by Dawson Morgan, influenced by life on the Gulf Coast. Exhibition to debut at ArtWalk on Sept 13th from 6-9pm. Hanging light pendants will also be on display with all pieces available for purchase. Sophiella always offers large and small canvases by established and emerging artists.

Fairhope Farmers’ Market

September 19th & 26th | 3pm-6pm | Behind Fairhope Public Library

Shop local farmers with locally grown produce, baked goods and great gulf fish.

Beverage Academy: Irish Whiskey

September 20th | 5:30pm-7:00pm | GrandHotel Golf Resort & Spa

Each month, the Beverage Team at the Grand Hotel will be teaching classes at the resorts’ Beverage Academy. The classes are aimed at expanding the participants’ knowledge of beverage basics while also incorporating more advanced techniques. Whether you are a beginner or an expert, the classes are fun, hands-on experiences that will have people raving about your beverage skills. In each Grand Beverage Academy, you will receive a one- hour beverage demonstration, recipes and beverage sampling. Quite possibly the home of Whiskey, Ireland has been distilling since monks learned the practice of distilling perfumes in the twelfth century. Learn more about the history, production, flavors and how Irish Whiskey fits into some tasty cocktails.

Fight Like a Mother: A Paint and Sip Charity Event

September 23rd | 6pm-8pm | Fairhope Brewing Company

Fairhope Brewing Company is hosting an event to benefit the Reeves Family, who is going through a very rough patch. Taylor Madeline Reeves is a 29 year old mother of two from Mobile who was just diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and is currently going through chemotherapy. Border Magic and Boulder Designs by Mathews Group inc. is based out of Foley, Alabama. They provide decorative rocks to be painted the day of the event. Of the $55 fee for painting, 30% will go directly to the Reeves Family. They supply all of the materials; all you need to bring is a great attitude. Meanwhile, Fairhope Brewing Company will also donate one dollar per pour for the duration of the event. You don't need to paint; you don't need to drink; you just need to come out to support the Reeves Family. Bleus Burger - Gulf Shores will be on hand to fulfill your hamburger needs.

Culinary Academy - Cooking Essentials VI: Cake Decorating

September 21st | 10:00am-11:30am | Grand Hotel Golf Resort & Spa

Each month, a Chef at the Grand Hotel will be teaching classes at the Resort’s Culinary Academy. These classes focus on expanding the participants’ knowledge of the culinary basics while also incorporating techniques that are more advanced. Whether you are a beginner or an expert, the Chef’s classes are fun, hands-on experiences that will have people raving about your culinary skills. In each Grand Culinary Academy, you will receive an in depth cooking demonstration, recipes, food sampling and a diploma. During this class, you will learn how to use different decorating techniques to create beautiful cupcakes, layered cakes and mousse cakes.

Flocks on the Rocks - Craft Cocktail Tour

September 20th | 7pm-9pm | Gulf Coast Ducks

Friday nights are made for downtown duck tours and craft cocktails! It's time to get out on the town! Hop aboard and enjoy the sights and sounds in downtown Mobile on our famous duck tour AND get a craft cocktail at 3 different stops! Post- Mailman's Kid Wet Willie's- Your Choice Daiquiri The Royal Street Tavern Your choice: The Vesper or The Spiked Lavender TICKETS $55 ADULT ADMISSION ONLY- MUST BE 21 TO RIDE!

31st Annual Jubilee Festival of Arts

September 28th & 29th | 10am-5pm | 1700 Main Street

The 31st Annual Jubilee Festival of Arts is set to attract thousands to the oak-lined Main Street of Daphne, Alabama on September 28th and 29th. Art, music & seafood meet southern charm at this annual festival set along the Eastern Shore of Mobile Bay. The Eastern Shore Chamber of Commerce hosts this family-friendly festival each year in coordination with the City of Daphne. ARTS & CRAFTS VENDORS: Visit nearly 100 arts and crafts vendors showcasing the very best in jewelry, paintings, pottery, sculpture, wood, mixed media, functional & decorative items. As a juried art show, vendors are competing for cash prizes which will be awarded Saturday night. It's not too early to start thinking about Christmas presents you won't find anywhere else. FOOD: Not only can you visit our eclectic food court offering festival favorites, but Olde Towne Daphne is teeming with many delicious restaurants ready to service festival guests.

American Cancer Society: Vintage Affair Gala

September 29th | 4pm-7pm | Heritage Hall

The American Cancer Society’s 25th Annual Vintage Affair Gala on Sunday, September 29, 2019 from 4pm-7pm at Heritage Hall for a one-of-a-kind evening, featuring great food by Clifton Morrissette, entertainment by Cooper Trent and the Court of Trent, featured painting by artist Margi McCall, local art work, a spectacular auction, and much more. With your support, the American Cancer Society saves lives by helping people stay well and get well, by finding cures, and by fighting back against cancer.

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

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#7 with Sternclay, for the prompts?

Here you go! I went NSFW

#7: I’m assigned to write a piece rounding up all the bad press that you, a famous celebrity, have been getting and you show up in my office and demand me to write a retraction and get the ‘real’ story”

Barclay is so excited; he’s going to be spending two weeks on the Dual Mesa set, writing an exclusive behind the scenes story that’s sure to give the magazine a big sales boost.

“Ah, Barclay, come in.” Ned Chicane, the show’s director, ushers him into his office, “I assume they told you we will be leaving to shoot on location tomorrow?”

“Yes, I, uh, I’m really honored that you chose Q to run your story; your cast is so diverse, it really resonates with our readers.”

Ned waves a hand in faux-humility, “Why create a show with paranormal elements that simply recreates homogeneity? However, my dear boy, you were not chosen by me.”

“I requested it.” Barclay turns as a tall man with dark hair enters the office, and has the sudden urge to hide under the nearest table. The man currently staring him down with bright blue eyes and a mild-yet-clearly displeased expression is Joseph Stern, star of Dual Mesa and subject of a very unflattering article Barclay published a week ago.

“Look, Mr. Stern, I-”

“Quiet.” Stern holds up his hand, “I asked Ned to give Q a boost by granting access to the shoot because I think the magazine does excellent work. I asked for you to give you a chance to prove yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your writing is quite good, but clearly your research and fact checking needs some work.”

“Just because you don��t like it-”

“I don’t, but that’s not the issue. You published things that are patently false and easily provable as such. For instance, the claim that I got this role by sleeping with the director has two major flaws; one, Ned is not my type.”

“There’s no accounting for poor taste.” Ned says, clearly unbothered,

“And two, Mr. Mosche would break my fingers if I tried to fuck his husband.” He points to the corner of the room where a large, tattooed man sits reading.

“Right you are.” He looks up long enough to reply.

“And anyone on set could have told you that. Whatever your sources were, you didn’t do due diligence. So you’ll be trying again.”

“Look, buddy, where do you get off giving me orders?”

“By being the star they’d have the hardest time killing off.”

“And by raising good points.” Ned stands, “asking for a flat retraction would reflect poorly on the show, as it would look as if we were trying to hide the truth. This allows you to correct misconceptions as well as get exclusive looks at next season.”

“You’re literally a paid actor, how the hell do I know you aren’t faking these two weeks?”

“You won’t be spending all your time with him; you’ll be interviewing others as well and have opportunities to observe him without him knowing.” Ned pats Barclays shoulder, “but he will be responsible for introducing you to the rest of the cast”

Barclay glances at Stern, who lifts an eyebrow with a smirk.

“So. Have fun with that!”

-----------------------------------------

The introduction the next day goes as well as trying to light a match in a hurricane. Stern is polite and professional when Barclay arrives, introduces him to the cast and the main crew without mentioning the article. But it’s clear Barclay’s reputation precedes him.

“You really got Joe figured all wrong.” Duck Newton, who plays good-hearted Sheriff Frank Roosevelt on the show, pulls Barclay aside as Stern and co-star Aubrey Little (who plays Lucille, a plucky young woman with a dark past) get ready to shoot.

“So everyone keeps saying, but I didn’t make that stuff up. It turned up when I researching him.”

“Don’t mean someone else didn’t just pull it out of their ass.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Barclay sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“Look, all I know is Joe’s been nothin but kind a professional to me. I’d even call him a friend. Know he can come off as intimidatin and rigid sometimes, but he’s a good guy.”

Barclay hears variations of this sentiment over and over during the next two days. It’s part of why he’s currently sitting inside his motel room not far from the main set, eating dinner alone. Indrid, the costume designer had actually invited him to eat with a few members of the crew. Barclay demurred. If the bulk of the people on set think he’s a jerk, he doubts they’ll be that open to getting to know him. Plus, he’s kind of humiliated at how little actual evidence he can find for the claims against Stern, and doesn’t want to give the other man a chance to gloat.

There’s a knock on the door, and he opens it to find the last person he expects, or wants, to see.

“Good evening, Barclay.” Out of costume, Stern almost looks ordinary. There’s still the unfair symmetry of his face, the way he makes jeans and t-shirt look somehow sophisticated.

“Uh, something you need from me?”

Stern looks past him to his cobbled together dinner; Barclay’s a good cook, but the damn room doesn’t have anything more than a microwave.

“The chance to buy you an actual dinner.”

Barclay’s about to point out that he’s not eating in the commissary tent because of Stern when the actor adds, “please?”

He grabs his wallet and joins Stern in the still-warm evening air, following him into the few blocks that make up downtown Sagebrush, the former mining town that makes up much of Dual Mesa’s background. He expects them to stop at the Mizpah, the sole fancy hotel and restaurant, but Stern guides him past it and into a kitschy diner.

They study their menus in silence, the pleather booths squeaking awkwardly whenever one of them moves.

Barclay orders the burger plate that comes with a slice of pie and Stern, surprisingly goes for an omelette off the all-day breakfast menu.

“Barclay I, well, it’s obvious we got off on the wrong foot. I want you to know that as much as the article upset me, I don’t want you to be miserable while you’re here. No ones going to shun you for what you wrote.”

“Pretty clear they’re all on your side.” Barclay sips his water, meeting Stern’s gaze.

“There don’t need to be sides; you want to write an accurate profile of what it’s like on set, and I want to not have my name dragged through the mud anymore. Those come out to be the same thing.”

“You seem real fucking confident.” Barclay narrows his eyes.

Stern’s hackles go up, but then he sets his hands on the table with a measured breath, “I don’t pretend to be perfect, Barclay. I’m aware, well aware, of my flaws. But none of those flaws match what you wrote about me. I’m not asking to look untouchable in your piece, I’m asking to look like myself.”

Barclay looks down, spots him nervously shredding his napkin. As he’s thinking, a teenager in a tricolor tank-top approaches the table.

“Um, sorry, but are you Joseph Stern? The guy who plays agent Hooper?”

Stern smiles, genuine and reassuring, “I am.”

“Could I, uh, get a picture? Like a selfie?”

“Of course.”

Barclay watches Stern pose with the kid and compliment his pride shirt, before waving goodbye as he scurries back to his table to show his friends the photo.

“That doesn’t bother you?”

Stern shakes his head, “It happens pretty often, especially in town where most people know what I look like in my street clothes, so I’m used to it. Besides, for a lot of these kids there’s more than just the celebrity angle. I can count the number of gay, trans, Asian-american actors on T.V when I was kid with one hand,” He holds up a fist to indicate a zero, “if the price of being that person for kids now is posing for some pictures, I’ll pay it any day.”

Warmth blooms in his chest, the sincerity making him want to trade a truth in return, “Yeah, I remember looking for guys like me and not seeing them. I’d just pick a character I liked and kinda projected. Except the X-Files; then I just had a huge fucking crush on Mulder. Oh, thanks.” He smiles at the waitress as she sets his food down.

“I know that feeling. Somewhere there are pictures of me dressed as him for a Halloween party.”

“Heh, I haven’t dressed up for Halloween in ages.” Barclay munches on a fry, “Last three times I went as Bigfoot. It was an easy costume and kept my face hidden.”

“That’s a shame for the other party-goers.”

Barclay coughs, choking on his fry, as Stern blushes, shoves a piece of toast into his mouth, and changes the topic to books.

The next day, when Barclay arrives on location and everyone is milling about getting ready to shoot, Stern pats the chair near his own and talks with him until he’s needed on camera. Over the next week, Barclay finds himself next to Stern more often than not, comparing notes on the mystery novels they’ve been passing back and forth, or explaining his job moonlighting as a cookbook editor, or listening to the actor describe his travels to the locations of famous cryptid sightings. What surprises him most is how charming he finds Stern when he’s nowhere near a camera. On set, in character as Special Agent Alex Hooper, he radiates the quiet charm that makes his character so beloved. When they’re alone it’s different, a little less polished and little nerdier, and rather than captivating him it makes Barclay want to protect him.

It turns out that slips of the tongue happen to Stern a lot, at least when he’s around Barclay. “Sec” routinely becomes “sex” and comments about Barclay’s size and strength come often, Stern always sheepish afterwards. As if his attention is something Barclay may not want rather than something he craves like a four-course meal.

When he starts daydreaming about asking Stern back to his motel room after one of their now-regular dinners together (that Stern always pays for), he knows he’s in trouble.

“Helllloo?”

He jumps, chuckles in surprise as Aubrey finishes waving her hand in front of his face, “Sorry, was thinking about dinner.’

“I was saying thanks for coming out while we shoot this. I know how hard it can be to pull away from your ‘muse’.” She wiggles her eyebrows and Barclay feels the blush overrun him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let him figure it out on his own.” Aubrey winks, the groans, “aw fuck here he comes.”

Robert Hayes, who plays the recurring role of Hooper’s supervisor, appears in the grove where they’re shooting a scene with just him and Aubrey. Barclay steps out of frame, Aubrey hissing “don’t leave me” as he does.

“I can’t believe Ned is letting Indrid do more alternative looks for you.”

“It works for Lucille.”

“It would work better if she was more conventionally attractive.”

Barclay growls under his breath; how dare this guy talk to his friend that way?

“Well, obviously not, because the audience likes me like this. And they have opinions worth listening too.”

The tension remains throughout the shoot, Barclay tensing every time Hayes opens his mouth. He pretends to be busy when the actor comes over to join him.

“I’m glad you’re planning on expanding your take-down of Stern.”

“I never said that. I’m writing about the new season of the show.”

“If you want more information about what he’s really like, I’ll be happy to chat with you in private.” The older man pats his shoulder and heads off to his trailer.

Barclay waits until he’s gone, then goes to look for Ned. He has a hunch the director might like to know about Haye’s offer.

-------------------------------------------

“...guess Ned put him in his place.” Stern finishes adjusting his tie as the scene sets up, “Sounds like he wanted his character to become the eventual lead, and thought shit-talking me would be the way to go.”

“I’m glad it’s sorted out.” Barclay pretends to be studying his notes so he doesn’t stare too noticeably at Stern’s ass.

“Me too. Thanks, Barclay.” Stern steps onto set, and as Ned begins running through the scene with Stern and the actor playing his (unbeknownst to him) alien lover, Bee, Barclay wishes he’d chosen to be elsewhere. Because this is a sex scene. With Stern. That he will be watching.

No, damn it, he’s a professional. His butt is staying in this chair.

He makes it through the several takes of the dialogue just fine, starts sweating a little when he kissing begins. Stern’s kisses strike a balance between tender and passionate, perfectly in character, and Barclay would give his right arm to trade places with Bee.

The action moves to the bed, Stern caressing his lover as they unbutton his shirt.

Okay, now he’d give his right arm and leg to be the one beneath him.

He reminds himself this airs on TNT, not HBO, so it can’t get much more explicit.

Sterns whole body drips with soft dominance as he pins Bee to the bed, cooing that he’s never seen a finer sight.

Fine, his right arm, leg, and any non-vital organs, he’ll trade them all in a second to hear Stern say that to him, even if it’s only pretend.

He doesn’t make it through the second take of the bed scene, hurries away as quietly as unobtrusively as he can. There’s no way he can make it to his motel like this, cock pressing so hard against his jeans he’s afraid he’ll end up with a zipper mark. And the bathrooms aren’t exactly private. He does have the key to Stern’s trailer, the actor having given it to him in case he needed somewhere air conditioned to rest from the heat. The trailer that is very nearby.

Does he dare?

The question hardly registers before he’s at the door, unlocking it and ducking inside before anyone sees. He leans against the counter with a groan, unzipping his pants and praying the pre-cum that immediately streaks his hand hasn’t made a noticeable spot in the denim.

He fumbles around to find some tissues, not wanting to face the humiliation of Stern walking in to find him cleaning cum off of his cabinets (he does actually want that humiliation, and badly, but not without Stern’s consent).

The strokes are hard and fast, his eyes shut so tight he sees static as he imagines Stern behind him, saying how much he wants him, how needy he is, how he’ll take care of him. He grits his teeth, breath leaving him in faint hisses and stifled moans until the temptation to say Stern’s name overwhelms him.

“Joe, Joe, fuck, Joe.”

“Yes, big guy?” A voice purrs in his ear as hands bracket him against the counter.

“Fuck” He tries to freeze, finds he’s shaking too much from want and worry to do so.

“You forgot to lock the door, silly boy. I, however, did not.”

“I’m, I’m sorry, I just needed to, fuck, I didn’t mean for you-”

One hand leaves the counter, strokes the base of his neck and toys with his hair, “what about this suggests I’m angry with this, um, development?”

Barclay whimpers, feet unwilling to turn and look Stern in the eye.

“Should I stop?” The tease goes from his voice.

All he can do is whimper again and shake his head.

The hand leaves his neck, slides down Barclay’s arm to rest atop his hand on the counter. The other takes it’s time snaking down his stomach and hips.

“Poor Barclay, no wonder you had to leave.” His hand nudges Barclay’s aside, takes it’s place around his cock, “you can probably see this thing from space. I’m taking this as a testament to my acting skills.” A laugh as he kisses Barclay’s neck, stroking him slowly.

“Please don’t say this is acting too.”

“It’s not.” A kiss to his cheek, a twist along his cock, both making him weak-kneed, “do you know what I was thinking about during that scene? I was thinking about you, what you’d look like if I fucked you. It’s only a quirk of anatomy” he grinds against Barclay’s ass, “that means I didn’t have a noticeable reaction on camera.”

“Fuck, Joe, more, please I need more of you, all of you, I’m so fucking close.”

The hand on his cock pulls away, “not just yet, big guy. Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Uhuh.” He whines, pushing his hips forward to bump his cock along Stern’s hand.

A light smack on the ass, “behave. Take everything off and wait for me on the bed.”

“Uh huh.” He turns, only for a hand to firmly grasp his chin and force him to stay eye to eye with Stern.

“Try that response again, big guy, with better manners.”

“Y-yes, s-sir, I, I understand.”

He’s yanked into a demanding, possessive kiss, Stern stroking his cheek approvingly when he releases him, “Good boy. Is this alright?”

“Yes, yesyes, Joe, please, I love it, don’t stop.”

“I won’t, unless you say so. Promise you will if you need to?”

“I swear, cross my heart, babe, please.”

A loving laugh, coupled with a peck on the lips, “bed.”

Barclay strips so quickly he loses his balance, landing on the bed as he fights to pull off his pants. He tries to calm himself by folding his clothes and setting them aside, certain that if he gets more excited he’ll become the first confirmed case of human combustion.

“Hands and knees, please.”

“Oh fuck me.”

Stern is standing by the bed, naked from the waist down save for a strap-on, but still in his special agent clothes from the waist up.

“Do you like the suit, big guy?”

“Yessir.”

“Good to know. Maybe next time I’ll wear the whole thing while I fuck you. Now” he climbs onto the bed, “try to relax for me.”

A condom-covered finger presses against his ass as soon as he’s on his hands and knees, Stern working him open efficiently yet gently until he’s begging for more. Stern ruffles his hair, and then the toy is pushing into him. It’s narrow, so the stretch isn’t too bad, and for a moment he wonders if it will even do much for him.

“Let me see, if I just-”

“FUCKfuck” The curve of the toy finds his prostate.

“That’s part of why this is a favorite of mine, it’s so effective” he thrusts harder, “at finding the right spots.”

“Mhhhmmmmm” Barclay bites the pillow to muffle his moans and growls, wiggles his hips as Stern finds his pace.

“The other reason I like it…”

“SHIT, babe, baby, ohfuck that’s good.” The toy vibrates, sending heat all through him, “fuck, I’m gonna come in like th-thirty seconds from that.”

“Thirty seconds? Let’s see if you’re right, big guy.”

“GaaAAHfuck, Joe, yeah, yeahyesbabeyes.” He gives up on being quiet as the actor rams into him, drops to his elbows when the intensity makes it impossible to anything other than moan and and grunt and take it.

“That’s it, good boy, let’s see just how hard you are for me” Stern pants as he reaches around, teasing the head of Barclay’s cock, “perfect, you’re doing wonderfully, fuck” a groan of gratification as Barclay spurts across the bed, “messy, god I love making you come apart, even I might make you clean that with you tongue later.”

“Oh god.” Barclay moans, drool staining the pillow, as Stern loops an arm tightly around his waist and grinds, the toy still bumping and rumbling inside his ass.

“Nnn, Barclay, yes, hold out just a little longer, let me get off on this perfect ass.”

Barclay whines, sensitivity overloading his circuits and driving him wild.

“Just a little more big guy, fuck, fuck, lord almighty I’m close, c’mon, you can handle it, you can be good and take me as long as I need.”

“Yes, yes, wanna take you, wanna be yours, wanna serve you.”

“Fuck” Stern doubles over, hips working frantically, “that’s it, good boy, if you’re in this bed you, fuck, your only job is to please me.”

“Yes” Barclay sobs just as Stern moans into his shoulder. When he pulls out, Barclay flops, limp, onto his side.

“You with me, baby?” Stern wiggles out of the harness, lays so they’re face to face and cups Barclay’s cheek.

“Mmhmm. Fuck” he pulls Stern into a hug, “I can’t believe we just did that. That was fucking amazing.”

“Didn’t take you for the sub type.”

“Everyone always wants me to be big ‘n dommy. Don’t wanna. Wanna be someone’s good boy.” He’s slurring, mind still a bit foggy.

“You can be mine. In, um in not just a sex way, although it can be just a sex thing if you want it to.”

“Nope” He cuddles him closer, then it hits him, “you’re asking me to be your boyfriend?”

“Please?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes” He kisses him after each answer, making them both laugh.

“It won’t fuck up your work?”

“I’ll ask Mama what she thinks, we might need to transfer the rest of the article to Thacker. Uh, maybe this is silly but, uh, can I take you to dinner? My treat?”

Stern kisses him, stars in his eyes and a hundred watt smile on his face, “that sounds perfect, big guy.”

#sternclay #meet ugly #agent stern/Barclay #celebrity AU #prompt fills

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