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thiswasinevitableid · 1 year

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The Kepler Horror (Indruck)

The winner of the "weird mer" poll was: A mer who isn’t so much half-human, half-fish as all eldritch. This fill is NSFW and contains oviposition.

Content Notes: given the prompt, there is mild reference to body horror. There is also a brief reference to nonconsensual artificial insemination (for lack of a better word).

Men in fancy carriages are a rare sight in this part of the state, so all the neighbors are sticking their heads out the window to see what on earth could have brought one to the Newton’s front door.

Duck’s father ushers the somber lawyer inside and his mother offers him something to drink, but he seems as uneasy with his visit as they do.

When they’re settled around the table, the man produces a paper, “This is the last will and testament of Alistair Cold.”

The four Newton’s trade a puzzled look. The Duck’s father snaps his fingers, “ah, yes, the fella my uncle Herbert worked for.”

“The very same. Mr. Cold passed away in the summer” he indicates where the paper is dated June 8th, 1872, “And was without any living family. This will stipulates his house, land, and all possessions and money go to his loyal servant, Charles. Except, Charles died the same night Mr. Cold did. Since Mr. Cold was insistent the state not come into possession, his will also lays out which servant to consider next. The two prior to your uncle flatly refused the offer and turned over their rights to it. And your uncle, as you no doubt know, passed in October. His own will named you his heir, which entailed only the bequeathment of a horse.”

“She’s a good horse.” His father replies.

“The point is, Mr. Newton, the estate on the coast is all yours.”

His father turns his attention to Duck, “seems to me it’s high time my son had a place to call his own. The money won’t hurt none neither.”

“Mr. Newton, you don’t have a-”

“I know what I said.”

Duck smiles to himself, and lets himself daydream about his future home.

—------------------------------------------------

Indrid swims up, up, up the dark shaft, out of habit and foolish hope more than anything else. The hatch at the top is sealed like it always is. Like the futures say it always will be.

He lets out a burbly sigh and sinks down, down, down once again.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

Duck doesn’t believe in ghosts. But if there was ever a house to be haunted, it’s the one staring down at him now.

The view of the sea is nice. It’s the creaking frame, rattling windows, and yards of spiderwebs he could do without. All the rooms are full of dusty ghosts, chairs and tables and fancy shit he has no name for peeking out from their shrouds.

He bought new clothes in Richmond (his sister, Jane, came with him that far so he could buy her some too), mostly practical outfits for working on the house or in the–badly overgrown–garden. A few are for dinner parties or going out into the nearby town of Kepler, and maybe even for impressing a sweetheart. But before he can tuck them safely away in the wardrobes, he has to pull heaps of grim, unused clothing from the darkness.

As he explores the house, he takes mental note of just how many things he can get rid of. No one needs this much china or this many silver nick-knacks. Not even their previous owner, going from how new most of them look.

While in the library, he leans against the mantle of the unlit fireplace. When the stone beneath his elbow depresses, he momentarily panics that the whole damn place is about to come down around his ears. Instead, a panel opens in the floor of the eastern corner, revealing a sharply angled, stone staircase.

He debates whether it’s safest to ignore the weird, creepy staircase or follow it to make sure there’s not something weirder and creepier lurking under his house. He decides he’d rather not be murdered in his sleep by, grabs the pistol his dad insisted he bring, and takes his lantern into the depths beneath the mansion.

When he reaches the bottom, he gets a hunch as to what probably killed Alistair Cold.

He’s in a laboratory straight from the penny dreadfuls Jane is always reading. Jars of sickly, green liquid line the shelves and there’s a rack of surgical tools that makes him shudder when he sees how sharp they were kept. There are also several large books bound in brown leather containing nothing but an alien language and pictures so upsetting he instantly slams them closed.

“That’s enough of the creepy basement for today.” He says it aloud just to hear a familiar voice.

As he turns to leave, he steps on a pedal at the base of a cabinet. Grinding metal fills the air and he braces for something to blow up or fall over. When nothing happens, he decides that the pedal must be disconnected from whatever it once controlled, and heads back to the daylight.

—--------------------------------------------

Can it be?

Indrid tentatively presses first his tentacles and then his whole body against the hatch of the tunnel. It groans, then gives way, revealing the lab in a similar state to the last time he saw it. There’s no sign of the master of the house, and so Indrid keeps quiet; the previous instance when he tried to free himself and explore without permission, the human sunk a stake of hawthorn into his center. The damned thing was enchanted and twisted to conform to his shape no matter how many times he rearranged his body.

Tonight it’s safest to sit on the rim of the tunnel, drinking in the sounds of the surface. Tomorrow he’ll brave the laboratory. And the night after, the stairs.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

Duck prides himself on being friendly and easy going. Which is why he’s trying not to take it too personally that no one in this tavern has looked at him since he mentioned where he was living. The shoulder he’s getting is colder than the freezing rain outside.

As he’s wondering if he’ll have to eat his dinner standing, a young woman with black hair and a massive, black rabbit in her lap waves him over to her table. She introduces herself as Aubrey, and they chat about how he’s liking Kepler. When yet another diner gives Duck a wide berth, she rolls her eyes.

“Ignore them. They’re all jumpy because you’re living in the Cold place. The guy who lived there before was a major dick. But that didn’t have anything to do with the house.”

“I feel like I’m gonna regret asking but: what actually happened to him?”

Aubrey slowly spins her spoon on the table, “He was doing experiments with magic; if there’s something beyond black magic, I’m pretty sure it was that. Nasty stuff, stuff that made people sick or disappear or…” she shudders “apparently he had a thing for kidnapping women who’d then give birth to kids they couldn’t remember wanting or conceiving. I only moved here two years ago, but I guess it’d been going on for a long, long time.”

“Jesus.”

“Right? I guess he eventually pissed off the wrong person or they figured out they outnumbered him, but a mob stormed the house, tied him to a tree, and burned him. And I get it but, like, it freaks me out that they’d just do that. Now I think everyone is treating your house like it’s this beacon of evil because weird stuff happens in Kepler all the time that they’re scared of.”

Duck’s mind wanders to the basement, “Weird stuff?”

“The fact that it rains all the time even though it doesn’t do the same one county up or down the coast, the freaky stuff people see while fishing, the ghostly shapes above the church every night, a higher than average number of witches, oh, and that guy, Stern,” she points to a tall, well dressed man who just walked in, “apparently he trained under a witch hunter? And then he got sent out here because there’s supposedly a giant, hairy monster in the woods that some people think is the devil but is probably a totally nice guy if I had to guess.”

The rabbit hops on the table and he pets its head, “And if a fella wanted to steer as clear of all that as possible?”

“Spend lots of time in your house? Like I said, as far as anyone knows, he was the only evil thing there. Or” Aubrey leans closer, “if you ever want to pal around with people who can help the weird feel less, um, threatening, come by Amnesty Lodge. It’s about a half-mile from your place, on the edge of the woods.”

Duck thanks her for the invitation and decides to avoid Amnesty Lodge as much as humanly possible.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------

Indrid is now certain Alistair Cold is no longer alive. As he trawls the laboratory, there’s no sign of him there or in any of the futures. This opens up so many possibilities his whole being shivers in excitement.

The only reason he does not rush upstairs is he’s hungry, and if there is anyone else in the house he does not wish to embarrass himself by eating their entire pantry. And so he slithers back depths in search of dinner and leaves his exploration for tomorrow.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

There’s someone in the house.

From his bed, Duck can hear them moving on the lower level, the odd bump of furniture and strange chirp interrupting the steady sound of whoever it is moving closer. When it reaches the stairs, instead of steps there’s a horrible, repetitive squelching until the monster–because there’s no fucking way this is a person–is on the landing.

He knows for a fact he locked all the doors to the outside and, as a result, his bedroom door isn’t. If he moves, it might know he’s here and zero in on him. But if he gets to the door in time, he can keep whatever is stalking the halls at bay until he figures out what the fuck to do.

The bedroom door creaks the instant his feet hit the floor. It groans open, the surrounding darkness offering no clues as to what’s on the other side.

Tentacles come first, patting the walls and floor. Then there’s a horrible skitter as crab-like feet cross the threshold. The mass at the center of the body tips this way and that, and no matter how hard or long he stares he can’t make any sense of it. Milky eyes on what could be a neck give way to gaping gills lined with teeth but then they don’t and he’s looking at some new aspect of the horror.

When the monster turns, floor wet beneath it and attention fully on Duck, he does the least helpful thing possible.

He faints.

When he comes too, it’s with a nose of dark, sea-salty air. Something alien is resting on his face, and he braces himself to discover he’s already being digested.

The cool tissue on his face pats his cheek, which startles him into opening his eyes. He’s sitting on the floor, his back to the bed. There’s still a monster in front of him; its face is human, with silver-white hair falling around the angles of its cheeks and its glowing, red eyes. But the skin on its arms is mottled black and red, the texture too close to that of an eel for comfort, its hands are webbed and end in blood-red claws, and a frill of the same color sits behind its neck. Stranger still is the black fish-tail draped on the floor and the fact a patch of its chest is translucent, revealing an incomprehensible, teeming mass.

It’s a mermaid from hell. Compared to what was in the room before, it may as well be a kitten.

“Ah, you are awake!” The monster sits back and claps its hands, “I caught you before you could hit your head but I am never sure how long humans remain asleep when they faint and was beginning to worry.”

“You can talk.”

“Indeed. Oh, oh dear, where are my manners” he holds out a hand, “I am Indrid. You are Duck, yes?”

“How did you know that? And, and where did that other thing go?”

The monster cocks his head, “I am it. I can change shape to a degree, and I can see the future, which is how I know your name and that you are about to say you need a drink. I will fetch it.” Indrid tries to stand, frowns, and then his tail splits in two.

Duck looks away, stomach churning, until footsteps fade across the floor. He’d though Aubrey was exaggerating about what went on here but no, no it’s pouring rain outside and pinching his arm tells him he isn’t dreaming.

The monster rejoins him on the floor and offers a cup from the dresser. Not knowing what else to do, he takes it.

“You are afraid of me.”

“I, uh, I ain’t not-not, fuck, uh, I” he sighs, “yeah, okay, you got me, I’m afraid. Because a fucking sea monster turned up in my house!”

Indrid flinches at the noise, “I did not know you were residing here. I only know the hatch was open once more and I was so very excited to visit the surface once more” A thin membrane blinks across his eye, “goodness, I forgot how overwhelming it is to take in so much of the world through my eyes.” He looks sadly at Duck, but scoots a good six feet back across the floor, “I am sorry. I do not blame you. All humans fear the creatures of the depths. Except for Alistair.”

Duck sets the glass on the floor, “Can we go back to the part where you came through a hatch?”

“It is in the laboratory. If you wish I will show you. And yes, I am aware that showing you means you would then know how to bar me from the house. But that is your right; I do not wish to bother you.”

Against all his common sense, Duck stands and follows Indrid down the stairs, through the secret passage, and into the lab. They come to a circular, metal hatch on the floor, inscribed with the same, strange letters Duck saw in Cold’s notes. Indrid opens it, then slides in and rests his arms on the edge.

“Alistair made this to allow a creature from the depths to arrive at the surface in a matter of seconds. I was the one he was able to summon, and for a time he would let me marvel at the surface world while he asked me questions and wrote out formulas in his notebooks. Then one day, the hatch was locked and I could no longer visit. I did not miss him, but the surface world…I love it so, and I saw so little of it and when I found this unlocked I simply…I wanted…” he looks away and Duck discovers that same translucence on his chest races up his spine, “I am sorry. It was foolish of me to emerge. I will depart, and you need not see me again.”

Duck should let him go, seal the hatch, and then move to Australia. But Indrid’s honest, strange sorrow tugs at his heart, and he wonders what could make such a terrifying creature long for a life so different from what he knows. Wonders if Indrid, floating in the abyss, feels as out of place as Duck sometimes did on the street back home.

“I’ll make you a deal. You can come visit, but we gotta get a bell or something for you to ring so I know you’re here and don’t have a heart attack when I open a door and you’re behind it. We clear?”

Indrid grins with several rows of teeth, climbs from the pool, and grabs a length of rope dangling from the ceiling. When he tugs it, a bell sounds in the house above them.

Duck stares at the smiling monster, wondering what the fuck he’s agreed to, and says, “Yep, that’ll work.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The bell first rings two days later. Duck is at the dining table, rain battering the windows. It’s been so stormy the last few days that going into town carried a real risk of getting washed away or sucked into the mud, so he’s used his time to read up on wet-weather gardening and work on a model ship.

When the bell sounds, he wonders if Indrid will even come to see him, since his interest was in the house and not with Duck. But after only a few moments, footsteps announce the merman (Duck can’t think of what else to call him) by the fireplace. Indrid waves, awkward but earnest, and comes to join him, swaying in his steps like a new sailor at sea.

“Hello again.”

“Howdy. Uh, do you need anythin’ from me?”

“No. I do enjoy company, but there is no need to entertain me.”

Duck nods and goes back to his work. Indrid looks at the books, then stands and begins wandering the room, returning to the window every few minutes to stare out at the rainy road and the town in the distance. When Duck asks if he’d like some coffee, he says yes and then dumps half the sugar bowl into it when Duck brings him some.

“What do you do?” The merman sips his coffee.

“Fuck all at the moment. I went from helpin my folks with farm work to bein a fella with a mansion and a bunch of money. I’ll get bored of it eventually, but right now it’s nice to just kinda drift around.”

“Drifting can be rather relaxing.” Indrid pads over to the finished ship, claws clicking on china as he studies it, “will this then go in a bottle? I have seen those in books.”

“Nah, that’s a whole level of fuss I ain’t willin’ to go to.”

Indrid offers a hum of understanding, then touches a hand to the table. A deep blue ocean of mist spreads from his fingers, catching the underside of the boat. Then Duck can see the outlines of whales and squid beneath the waves, all matching the scale of his boat. The mist unfurls across the table, his boat sailing it until it lands safely in his hands. The ocean lingers, curling around him so he can watch the schools of fish and stray mermaids swimming within it. When it dissipates, he turns, awestruck and grinning, to Indrid.

“What was all that for?”

The merman shrugs, happily, “I wanted to see if I could make you smile.”

—--------------------------------------------------------

Since it’s a drizzle rather than a downpour, Duck is taking the afternoon to fetch supplies from town. As he’s un-tethering his horse, Winnie, from in front of the general store, his gaze falls on a heartbreaking sight; a child, no more than ten, sits on the corner, knees to her chest and her hand out. Her ears are shaped like coral and he spots a frill much like the one on Indrid. Most people who see her cross the street.

“It’s tragic, isn’t it?”

Duck turns to find Joseph Stern behind him.

“Where the hell are her folks?”

“Dead, I believe. The flu took them last year and the orphanage in Ashington won’t take her.” He steps beside Duck, “she’s not the only child in Kepler to suffer this way either. There are some with gills who cannot survive for more than a few hours away from water. Some with webbed hands, or teeth that mean their tongues struggle to speak in a way that others understand. A few are lucky and have family who protect them as they should. But many have been cast from place to place since they could walk. I believe Mrs. Cobb at the Lodge does what she can for them."

“The kids Aubrey talked about.” Duck murmurs.

Stern’s blue eyes are now fixed on him, “Exactly. No one quite knows what Alistair Cold did up in that house. The women he kidnapped could never recall what happened. A few even got up the courage to ask him for help when horrified families or husbands turned them and the children out. He threatened to drown them.”

“Jesus.”

“My feelings exactly. Kepler harbors strange things. Some say evil things. They think that it rots anything it touches” Stern glances in the direction of Duck’s house, “Regardless of what forces he called on, I think Alistair Cold was rotten well before he came here. There’s no reason to make others suffer because of that.”

“So you don’t think those, uh, forces are automatically bad?”

“Not at all. Things can be strange to us without that making them evil. In fact, I find such gaps in our understanding fascinating. You’ll let me know if you ever encounter anything unusual up there, won’t you?”

Duck chokes out a “yep” and then tugs Winnie away before Stern can ask any more questions.

—------------------------------------------------------------

It’s bliss to lay on the stone of the balcony while rain plinks on his skin. Indrid knows the constant storms are driving Duck up the wall, but he rather likes the damp, grey air. No birds are calling right now, but he can hear the shrieks of the McElroy children playing in the front garden. Duck had watched them as a favor to his nearest neighbors; their carriage had run off the road near Duck’s home and the wife had to accompany her husband to the doctor for a broken leg. When the children returned home hale and happy, the family was more willing to take Duck up on the offer to send them to play on his land whenever they wished.

Indrid stays inside on those days, as it would doubtless alarm the boys to see him, even in his current, somewhat human form.

That reminds him; he should show Duck that he’s almost able to make his hands look like they belong to a man.

Hours pass and the children depart before he finally rises and slips inside the warmth of the house. Duck is in the kitchen, frying fish in a pan while toast cooks on the rack. There’s a chocolate tart from the baker in town sitting on the counter and Indrid is very much looking forward to eating it.

It will soothe him after the conversation they’re about to have. It’s one he’s known was coming since Duck returned from town a few weeks ago looking rather grim.

As the human sets dinner on the table, he says, “‘Drid? What exactly did you and Mr. Cold do?”

“At first it was simply conversation. He had found a book containing the secrets and the language of the depths, and by summoning me hoped to achieve a greater understanding. I assumed our interests were alike in that we each wished to know more of a world that was otherwise inaccessible to our kind. For two years, I would guide him through spells and help him devise formulas to combine human science with my abilities. He was so pleased with our work together that he would say I was like the son he never had and he was glad to know me.”

Indrid picks up a fish and eats it because it’s something to do as the memories swarm him, “then one night he called me up and there was a woman in the laboratory with him. I was so excited, I wanted to meet more humans than him and his manservant. He knew this. But when I emerged it was in the form in which you first saw me and she screamed so loudly I panicked and dove back into the water. She was there the next night, too, but offering her this form did not calm her in the slightest. Nor did Alistair's insistence that I touch her.” He curls in on himself at the memory, “I refused and we argued and he shoved me back into the water and locked the hatch. A few nights later he tried again, this time with someone who was asleep when I emerged. He tried to tell me it was alright, that I could do as I wished. I wished to do nothing at all. I may live at the bottom of the ocean, but I was not born yesterday.”

Duck looks visibly relieved at this confession.

“After that night, it all changed. I was forbidden from leaving the pool, and Alistair would only summon me to scrape secretions from my tentacles or pull my teeth and I would let him because I hoped, foolishly, that we would see eye to eye once more and he would no longer be angry.” His claws scrape on the table, “I am glad he is dead.”

The human reaches over and takes his hand, “I’m so fuckin sorry, ‘Drid. You deserve better than that.”

His frill ripples as he looks at Duck, “Yes. Yes, I believe I do.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

He knows humans get ill. Indeed, one of Alistair's lies to him was that their research would help cure human ailments. But knowing they get sick and seeing his human laid up in bed are two painfully different things.

Duck insists it’s just a mild flu, but Indrid insists on him resting as much as possible so it does not get worse. This does leave him to tend the house and make food for them both himself, but so far he’s managing.

Today he is making chicken soup, and has followed all directions except for how to dismember the chicken; the knife seemed unnecessary given his claws. It’s been simmering on the stove while he goes and makes sure Winnie’s stable and hay are still covered after last night's wind (and to feed her the sugar cube he always sneaks her).

He has to slip back inside through the kitchen door, as the neighbor’s children are at the front one they’ve gone, he retrieves the basket they left on the steps. He can still hear them laughing and shouting down the road when he takes Duck’s tray up to him.

“Sustenance!”

Duck smiles groggily at him, “Thanks, ‘Drid. Was someone at the door?”

“Clint’s boys. They left us this along with a note saying they hope you feel well soon.” He holds up a jar of honey.

“That was nice. Kids’re nice.”

“Indeed.” Indrid sits in the wooden chair by the bed, “do you want children?”

“Yeah. And no? Don’t wanna have ‘em. People’d see me wrong. But a family could be nice.” Feverish, green eyes turn on him, “you?”

“From what you have told me I may already have some that I was not privy to the creation of.” He sneakily summons a cool tentacle to wipe sweat from Ducks’ brow, “beyond that…I do not know. My kind are few, and the last time I ran into a deep one who looked like me he tried to eat me.”

“Cause you're so sweet.”

“I suspect I taste like fish.” Indrid pours him a new glass of water before realizing the true meaning of what Duck said. He decides to leave it be, not wanting to read too much into what the human says while feverish, and adds, “now, eat up so you can be well and take me for a walk on the beach as you promised.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------

Duck’s definitely over his flu, but he took today easy due to still feeling a bit wobbly on his feet. Indrid left him a note saying he’d be spending most of the day in the sea. Duck’s glad; the merman spends as much, if not more, time at the surface with Duck than he does in the depths, and Duck has a nagging fear that one day he’ll spend too long on land and get sick.

He turns in early, reading under the covers while the wind howls. When the tell-tale ding echoes from below him, he calls out to let Indrid know where he is.

“You have a nice day?” Duck asks as the merman enters the room.

“Mmm”

Duck looks up at the whimpered answer. The first surprise is that the translucent patches on Indrid’s chest have turned into shining, pulsing scales. The second is that Indrid doesn’t sit once he reaches the bed. Instead he pulls the covers aside and wiggles under, pressing his front to Duck’s left side.

“‘Drid? You ok-”

“No. No I am not. Being away from you all day has been agony. Every fiber of me ached until this moment.” He nuzzles closer, clicking and trilling, “and I do not know why my form changed without my permission. Perhaps it was caring for you these last few days but I, I” his claws fist into Duck’s shirt, “I cannot think of anything but claiming you.”

Duck’s not sure which is stranger; that Indrid seems so distressed at the idea, or that Duck can’t imagine not opening his legs for him right now.

He rolls onto his side, draws a finger along the new scales and gets a trill in reply, “Darlin’, is that your way of sayin you wanna fuck me?”

Indrid’s frill fans out, “It does not need to be that! Just holding you is enough for, for now.”

The red and black on his skin is swirling like storm clouds, and Duck smooths his palm along a patch, “And what happens when it ain’t?”

Indrid chirp-burbles something in his native tongue.

“Didn’t quite catch that.” He hazards a grope to Indrid’s thigh.

“Then I hold you down and do things to you humans do not want!” Indrid covers his face with his hands, “Worse still is that I want them, I want you but I know such acts with me are repulsive.”

Duck takes both hands, easing them away from Indrid’s face and kissing the webbing between the fingers, “Not to me they ain’t. Not when it’s with you, the fella who’s fuckin captivatin’ to look at and makes me laugh and still gets so damn excited when he sees the rabbits playin’ in the grass.”

“You would truly let me mate with you?”

“Long as it don’t produce anything, then yeah.”

Indrid shakes his head and nudges Duck onto his back, “I have looked at every conceivable future and in none of them do we create offspring. Indeed, I suspect what Alistair hit upon might be the only way I could have children with a human. All of which is to say: please take off your clothes.”

Duck laughs at the formality but obeys. The instant he’s naked in the lamplight, more parts of Indrid’s body than make sense begin rippling and twitching.

“Such a handsome human. Let us see what I have in store for you.” He leans down, bracketing Duck with his arms, and kisses him soundly. With his eyes closed, it’s as if Duck is feeling se spray on his lips, and when he wraps his arms around the merman and toys with his frill, the kiss deepens. It’s only when he feels something hard pressing into each thigh that he breaks it to look down.

Indrid now has a second set of arms, more shelled than scaled, and is using them to force his thighs farther apart.

“Do you like them? I feel they will be necessary to keep my mate from running off. And to make certain he takes all I have to offer.”

Duck moans at the menace in his voice, “And what do you have to offer, darlin?”

Indrid dips his head in reply and Duck looks lower to see the skin and scales of his groin rippling. Then reality jolts for a moment and something singularly unusual is extending towards him. Indrid’s cock is thick and flexible, with a ribbed line running down the lower third of it.

“Holy fuck.”

“Is it still alright?”

Were it attached to anyone else, he’d say no. But right now his body is sending all his blood south at the thought of Indrid being so far inside him.

“Hell yeah it is.”

The scales on Indrid’s chest pulse, “Wonderful. Because I am out of patience.”

Duck yelps as Indrid lunges forward, kissing him and sinking his cock into him at the same time. The shaft barely fits, and every time Indrid snaps his his there’s a thud as it bottoms out.

“Ohhhhhh you are delightful.” Indrid trills as he forces Duck’s hips wider, the sound turning muffled as the merman kisses a hungry line down his neck to his chest. For a moment Duck fears the attention to his chest will prove too much, but Indrid contents himself with a possessive bite to each side before gliding his mouth back up to suck bruises into his collarbone.

“Fuck, ‘Drid, this is fuckin amazing, you feel so goddamn good uh, what, what’s that.” He squirms as something presses between his asscheeks.

“It seems my form adapts to fill as many holes as are present.”

“I ain’t ever had somethin-AH, oh, ohfuck” he bucks his hips as the second dick works it’s way in. There’s a strange pressure and heat to it, but it’s narrow and soft enough that he gets a shudder of pleasure instead of pain.

“That’s it, dearest, there is no need to fuss. I know how to take care of you. My heart, my soul, my very form will do whatever is needed to win and keep you.” Indrid grins down at him, licking his lips, “you were made to be laid in.”

Duck whimpers at the implication and tries to spread his legs wider.

“Does that excite you sweet one? That my kind need somewhere warm and willing in order to lay a clutch?”

“Didn’t, didn’t even occur to me that’d happen. I, will, it won’t hurt right?”

A loving nibble to his throat, “Not at all. In fact I foresee you very much enjoying it. Which is excellent timing.”

Duck gasps as something soft yet solid emerges from the tip of Indrid’s cock. A moment later it’s inside him, rubbing against him as Indrid fucks him with increased vigor.

“Yes, yesyes, that’s a good mate, there’s plenty more where that came from and you will take them all.” Both cocks pulse once, but only the one in the front produces another egg, “nnnf, this, this is selling me on the idea of a large family with you. Lots of space, plenty of money, we have all we need to care for several broods.”

“Ohgod, ohfuck, Indrid” the fantasy heats his blood as another egg pushes in.

“I’d take care of everything, look after them and the house if you decided to work. Mmm” he gropes Duck’s ass as the cock there fucks him deeper, “I do love the idea of you going into town bearing the proof of our evenings together. Everyone would see I’d claimed you. I would be the envy of the town once they knew you spread your legs whenever I wanted to breed you.”

“Fuuuck” He closes his eyes, losing himself in the image of Indrid on his arm in town, preening whenever someone notices the bites on his throat. The cock between his legs ripples, and now he’s full enough that it can’t fit all the way in when Indrid thrusts. The ridges and bumps of it catch his own cock, dragging him towards orgasm.

“Oh” Indrid’s sigh bubbles out of him, “look at you. So handsome, such a lovely husband to take me until you’re stuffed full.”

He cums at that, tightening around Indrid and digging his heels into the blankets. The merman is on him before he’s finished moaning, rolling them on their sides and releasing his thighs in favor of grabbing his ass and hips and forcing him closer.

“I am not done with you, sweet one, so hold on tightly until I am through.”

Duck cries out as two more eggs pulse into him, Indrid only fucking him rougher as they do. The mer is everywhere, fucking him deep and splitting him open and sinking his teeth into his neck until there’s a trilling, watery cry and he cums so hard inside Duck that the force and the volume of the cum pushes his cock free.

The other cock retreats as they pant in each others arms, Indrid’s frill rising and falling in time with his breath.

Duck raises his face form where he’s hidden it in Indrid’s neck, “You mean it when you called me your husband?”

“I did. If you would have me.”

He kisses his jaw, “You know I will. And not just because you fucked me so well I saw god.”

—-----------------------------------------

Spring in Kepler is still rainy, but the cluster of children waiting on the steps of what is now called Beacon House are all safely tucked beneath umbrellas. For those whose families did not abandon them, they will only be staying at the school until the afternoon before returning home (Aubrey will be teaching some classes and also driving the cart back to town). For those with nowhere else to go, they will be moving into the house for the foreseeable future.

The group–eight in total–scurries across the threshold when Aubrey ushers them in. Mr. Newton waits for them at the foot of the stairs, smiling and genial in his brown suit.

“We all here? Good. Mornin’ y’all. We're gonna get you settled into your rooms real soon. Uh, if you’re stayin here that is. If you ain’t, Aubrey will take you into the library so you can keep warm and read while the others put their things away. But before that, I want you to meet your other teacher”

He gestures to the man coming down the stairs. A red scarf covers his neck, and all but his face and hands are covered by his black suit.

“Mr. Cold here is gonna teach you some things Aubrey and I can’t. And make you feel right at home too.”

Still on the steps, Mr. Cold looks down at the children and smiles, ruby- tinted glasses slipping just enough to reveal glowing, red eyes.

#indruck #mermay #indrid cold/duck newton #trans duck newton #terato #monster boyfriend #human/monster romance #merman boyfriend #eldritch boyfriend #duck x indrid

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dogboyheaven · 26 days

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Idk how people still find my amnesty fanart from like 2018 but anytime I’m exposed to it it is a wildly humbling experience

#yapping #I don’t mind ppl circulating it bc it wasn’t like…bad or anything #just know that I am not the same person I was when I was making indrid x duck newton ship art at like age 18

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glowbat · 5 years

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i just think they’re neat ^-^

(do they have a ship name?)

#indruck #taz amnesty #the adventure zone #duck newton #duck x indrid #indrid cold #taz #my art

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artfromthevoid · 5 years

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Griffin: He grabs Ducks wrist-

My dumb ass: His hand? Ge grabs Ducks hand? And holds it?

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itsfrenchfornothankyou · 4 years

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My gift for @thiswasinevitableid for the @thecandlenightszone gift exchange

This is how I was picturing the car scene from their cute fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/21914035/chapters/52305388

I hope you like it!

#indruck #indrid cold #duck x indrid #taz indrid #Art #my art #digital art #Taz #taz amnesty #Fake dating au

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wrender · 5 years

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Ok amnesty au where when the lodge got shut down Indrid was still in town, and Indrid's Winnebago was confiscated, so he had to stay with duck as well, but since Minerva has the couch and Aubrey has the spare bedroom... well looks like... there's only one bed left....

#taz #taz amnesty #the adventure zone #indrid cold #duck x indrid #indruck #duck newton #my posts

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wrenderart · 5 years

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Indruck kiss,, inspired by @taako-waititi's fic,, sorry I made duck so short if u do the math he's 5'2

(click for quality, reblogs over likes)

#indruck #indrid cold #duck x indrid #duck newton #taz #taz amnesty #my art

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psychedelllica · 5 years

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zoinks im not very good at drawing kisses but i had to test out a new drawing tool so bam, kiss your local criptid.

also ignore how i already uploaded this before i got really self conscious about how it looked sksksksk

#indruck #taz indruck #duck newton #taz duck #indrid cold #taz indrid #duck x indrid #taz amnesty #the adventure zone #the adventure zone amnesty #all im capable of pumping out is g a r b a g e sketches lmao

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appbeljuice · 5 years

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MOTHMAN MOTHMAN MOTHMANNNNN

man I can’t get enough of this dude. I really can’t wait for the new ep of taz honestly! Also I think this would be really cool as a pin maybe? I have some ideas sksks.

#my art crap #taz amnesty #the adventure zone #artist #artists on tumblr #taz beacon #taz art #taz minerva #taz duck newton #the adventure zone art #fanart #taz fanart #taz mothman #taz indrid #indrid cold #duck x indrid #drawing

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pippipjangles · 5 years

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I just listened to the episode where indrid gets introduced and I had to draw him (+ I had a couple clever captions too in which I'll list now:

1. Wow the moth man is fuckable irl and in taz

2. Indrid Cold? More like Indrid Hot . )

Also I hc Duck as gay too cause:

1. Something he said in one of the first episodes

2. He is bear husband

3. I had 2 more reasons but I forgot sorry :((

4. Also indruck is a thing? And like I don't like getting into ~~fandoms~~ persay cause they're usually annoying but I can get behind that

#sorry its ugly #my art #taz amnesty #taz duck #taz #taz indrid #taz indruck #taz duck x indrid #indrid cold #duck x indrid #duck newton #traditonal art

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thiswasinevitableid · 11 months

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Strange Days (Indruck)

The winner of the mer and humans on land poll was: A lighthouse keeper who doesn’t believe mer are real

“You sure you don’t wanna keep him?” Duck stares at the Newfoundland on the steps of the lighthouse. The dog stares back disdainfully.

“Nah. Beacon’s a good dog, but my place ain’t big enough for him. Besides, it’s good to have one of those around in case you gotta rescue folks. Or you fall in.” Leo pats him on the back, “you’ll be fine. You got a good head on your shoulders.”

Duck thanks him and says his goodbyes as the former keeper gets on his horse and rides inland. Then he walks up the stairs into the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, where he’ll be the keeper until…

Well, until he gets tired of it or dies. Leo had been keeping it since 1880, and after twenty years decided to leave the Graveyard of the Atlantic for somewhere a bit less windswept.

After ten days of learning the ropes from Leo–and getting growled at and knocked into by Beacon–Duck prepares himself for his first night alone. Winnie, the mouser, meows at him from the steps of the staircase to the lamp.

“Yep, guess it’s just us three.”

“Mew.”

He stares up the spiraling iron walkway, “Wish I could say that suits me fine. But I’m a shit liar.”

“Bwoof”

“Coulda done without that agreement, Beacon.”

—--------------------------------------------------------

“It’s just by the lighthouse. You can’t miss it.”

Indrid is glad Barclay gave him that detail when directing him to his new territory; the outer banks can bleed together after a while, and being relatively new to the whole area means he’d rather not make enemies by unintentionally stepping on someone’s tail.

He makes a full circuit of his new home, waving to Dani when she swims by on her way home. He can unpack his few belongings soon; it’s warm and calm enough this evening that he doesn’t feel like being cooped up.

Once on the surface, he floats on his back and soaks in the sun. In his old haunts he wouldn’t have been so bold; the Colds held territory near old whaling and fishing communities up north and as a result had made a lot of enemies by ripping holes in nets or tipping over boats. Showing his face as a mer would have meant someone trying to shoot him or catch him to sell to a sideshow, as Barclay calls them (he’s been reading human newspapers more lately).

But here, on a stretch where the only visible structure is the lighthouse and the beaches are empty, he feels no fear of being in the open. One of the selling points his friends made when talking him into moving south was that this patch of sea is dangerous for ships, but safe for those who can be beneath the waves. Which means fewer fish being chased off and fewer people trying to throw nets on him.

(Besides, since he can see the future, he has some chance of knowing when danger is coming).

He drifts and daydreams so long that the light is now beaming across the water. It transfixes him, and he climbs up onto a still-warm rock to better observe it. There must be a human in there, perhaps more. It seems a lonely location, even miserable if it becomes as story as they say. It must be a certain kind of human who is willing to take such a post.

Indrid knows it is good manners for both humans and mers to offer gifts when you move into a neighborhood. If he and this human are to live so close, perhaps he ought to make a gesture of goodwill.

Now if only he knew what to offer….

—-------------------------------------------------

Duck is walking the beach at the base of the lighthouse, not thinking of anything in particular, when a shine catches his eye. On a nearby, half-submerged, rock is a pile of silver. When he picks it up, it cascades to reveal a necklace studded with gems. There hasn’t been anyone on the beach all morning, and this was placed here. Not lost.

“Plus sometimes when you’re up there you get a glimpse of a mermaid.”

“Leo, I ain’t a kid. Or a sailor who’s gone too long without, uh, company. I don’t believe in mermaids.”

The older man smiles, “Keeping the light can change some things.”

There’s no mermaid leaving treasure from sunken ships for him to find. This was just tossed here by the waves.

He tucks it in his pocket; it’s not a bad start to a nest egg.

—-------------------------------------------

Indrid ducks back under the waves. The human liked his gift. And stranger still, Indrid rather liked watching that human, with his dark hair and round, friendly face, accept something Indrid had chosen for him.

If he leaves enough acceptable gifts from afar, perhaps the handsome creature will allow him to offer some in person.

—-------------------------------------------------------------

This is weird.

Two days ago, Duck found a massive Marlin, still alive, on the same rock where he found the necklace. Since he wasn’t lacking food, and felt kind of bad for it, he managed to toss it back into the sea.

Today, he’s found a basket of fresh oysters. The basket is green, almost like it was made by seagrass.

Once again, there’s been no one on the beach for more than a short stroll, let alone someone equipped with a boat to dive from.

Yeah, it’s strange alright. But he really likes shellfish. He can even cook them on the beach for lunch. Even if they’re probably washed off from a boat somewhere and definitely not left by a mermaid.

Three nights after the oysters, Duck is in the gallery, checking everything before the lamp is lit. In the sea below, a human face and chest emerge, watching the lighthouse. The man doesn’t seem to be in distress, and it’s calm enough today that there’s been a few swimmers.

That has to be what he is. Because Duck refuses to believe the silvery tail glinting in the sunset belongs to the swimmer. There’s no such thing as mermaids. But maybe he needs to request more books from town before his imagination completely gets away from him.

—------------------------

Indrid has just finished leaving clams for Duck when there’s a splash behind him.

“Damn it, Beacon, I told you, you don’t gotta fish people out if they’re just swimmin’!”

Indrid trills, failing to gain speed before a large mouth closes gently around his arm and begins dragging him onto the shore. The futures suggest that a struggle will lead to injury, and so he resigns himself to an undignified entrance.

The dog shakes himself off as the lighthouse keeper hurries down the beach.

“Sorry, uh, sir, he gets a little overeager when it comes to help….” The charming drawl peters out as the human notices his tail.

Indrid waves both that and his hand, “Hello. My name is Indrid. I am your seaward neighbor.” He pats the dog's head, “it is nice to formally meet you both.”

The human says nothing, just stares at Indrid’s tail with his tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“I brought some clams today, since you prefer shellfish to swimming ones.”

“....You’re a fuckin mermaid.” He murmurs. This close, Indrid can see one of his eyes is blue, the other brown.

“Just mer is fine. We come in a wider variety than man and maid.” He cocks his head, “are you alright?”

The human sits down in the sand, “Leo was right. Y’all are just swimmin around out there.”

Indrid shifts so he’s sitting rather than on his stomach, “My presence bothers you.”

“N-yeah-uh, I, I don’t feel, uh, fuck, strong one way or the other? Fuck.” The human removes his hat, brushing sand from the top, “Look, uh-”

“Indrid. And you are..Duck? An interesting name.”

“It’s a nickname. How you know it I got know clue. Look, Indrid, it ain’t personal. In fact you seem real friendly. But I spent my whole life trying to tell myself this kinda thing is just old wives tales. I feel all…outta sorts.”

“Ah. I see. I will leave you in peace. I know what it is like to feel as if you have unwanted company.”

“It ain’t even that. If I’m bein’ honest, I don’t mind company. I just need a little time to take it all in.”

“Shall I…come back tomorrow, then?”

“Sure. Just not too late, I gotta make sure I’m minding the light when I’m supposed to.”

“Very well. Just after that bell in town rings noon?”

“That works, yeah.”

“Should I bring clams or oysters?”

Duck meets his eyes with a bemused, but friendly, smile, “Wouldn’t say no to some snapper.”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

“Can you hear it from there?” Duck calls out the window of the keepers cottage.

“Yes!” Indrid grins at him from the beach, then continues turning his catch—a massive flounder–humming as his silver tail gleams in the sunlight.

Satisfied that they’ll be able to pick up the second episode of The Outlaw on the radio while they eat an early dinner, Duck heads out to join him, two bottles of Coke in hand. Indrid adores sweet drinks, and if Duck could bring him a strawberry phosphate from town, he would.

Since Indrid became an undeniable element of his life, Duck has seen him almost every day for the last two months. And if he’s honest with himself (or with Winnie, who listens as he fusses over all this out loud), when he doesn’t see the mer for a day or more he gets worried that something has happened to him.

The Outlaws theme blares to life as Duck divvys up the fish. Usually the two of them will talk during dinner, but after the first minute of action Indrid’s focus is entirely on the radio, and he barely eats until the program is over. When the announcer says to tune in next week, the mer gives an indignant chir.

“But I wish to know what happens now. Will the sheriff simply ride off now that the outlaw has let him go? Or will he follow him into town? What if they never see each other again??”

Duck chuckles, “guessin they will, if only so they can make more episodes.”

“Promise you will let me listen again?”

“Of course, ‘Drid. I like your company. Pardner” he exaggerates his accent on the last word and Indrid laughs.

“You would make a very dashing lawman. I assume.”

Duck nudges his toes against Indrid’s tail “Thanks, but this life is plenty exciting for me.”

The mer goes silent for a moment, then he asks, “Duck? Why were you so bothered when you first knew of me? Is it because that is too much excitement?”

“Not exactly. I’ve had…weird stuff happen to me most of my life. Blue, glowing women turn up in my bedroom. There are lights in the sky near my hometown no one can explain. A friend of mine when on some scientific research trip and swears that something bit him and that he can’t remember what happens to him on the full moon. And all I ever wanted for myself was a quiet life. To do what made me happy without the fear of it all bein’ upended or dangerous. The weird shit always made me…nervous. Maybe that makes me a fool or coward but…I dunno.”

“I do not think it does.” Indrid moves closer, “I left home for the same reason. To not be looking over my shoulder all the time. But…since strange things have found you..perhaps you and he could look out for each other?”

Duck wants to kiss him. Red-brown eyes are so earnest, so hopeful, that he’s certain he could and Indrid would melt in his arms.

Beacon howls from the house as a warning comes over the radio of a storm.

“Dear me, it’s early.”

“Guess I better get my ass in gear. You gonna be okay?”

“As long as I am deep enough, it will not catch me.” Indrid takes his hand, rubbing it against his cheek, “take care, Duck.”

“I will. I’ll see you when it’s over.”

—-------------------------------------------------

Duck takes back every single bad thing he’s ever said about Beacon. The dog’s barking is the only reason he goes to the door of the lighthouse and looks out. In the roaring, ripping wind and rain, a figure has been tossed to the rocks at the base of the house.

Indrid.

He drags the mer inside, nearly being blow off his feet. He’s glad he’s kept up the floor of living quarters in here, and even gladder that said room is only three floors up.

“Fuck, fuck, ‘Drid, can you hear me?” He lays the mer on the floor, his chest and tail scratched and bruised from the rocks, “goddamn it, you told me you were gonna stay deep!”

“There was a future where you Winnie slipped the door and you went after her and drowned.” Indrid murmurs, then chirps in pain, “I wanted to be here in case you did, so I could, could save you. The wave took me by surprise. I am sorry.”

“Why are you fuckin sorry, you got hurt because of me.”

“Yes, but you now risked your life for something strange, which I did not wish you to do.”

Duck cradles him closer and kisses him once, gently. Indrid trills, surprised, and then purrs and wraps his arms around Duck’s damp shoulders.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, that’s the worst fuckin moment for this but I just...’Drid, you may be the weirdest fuckin’ thing in my life but you’re also the best. Everyday I wake up happier because I know I’ll see this fuckin’ stunnin face in the waves, looking for me.”

Indrid kisses him, tasting of the storm, “And everyday I surface with a heart lighter than the sun because I know you will be in the lighthouse.” He strokes Duck’s cheek, “my brave keeper.”

Duck rests their foreheads together, “Don’t that work out nice?”

“It does. And since you are about to ask, yes, please get the bathing tub you’ve been keeping outside; the collected water will be enough to wait out the storm. And after that…well, I have some ideas for how to pass the rest of the day.”

Duck trails his fingers up Indrids’ tail, savoring the way it flexes under his touch, “I’m all ears, darlin.”

#indrid cold/duck newton #indruck #mermay #duck x indrid #human/monster romance #taz amnesty

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taz-shipping-docks · 4 years

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Indruck discord servers?

I've been peeking around but I can't find any, dm me if you know a nice one or have any other shipping servers you'd suggest!

#duck x indrid #indruck #taz cast #taz discords #groups #looking for friends

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i-your-friendly-neighborhood-emo · 5 years

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I tried

#indrid cold #duck newton #duck x indrid #taz amnesty #your sweet baby brother #thats a funny trick to play on god #i’m sorry #i know it’s bad

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artfromthevoid · 4 years

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still thinking about these disasters

#voiddraws #taz #taz a #the adventure zone amnesty #the adventure zone #taz amnesty #indruck #taz indrid cold #indrid cold #duck #duck newton #taz duck newton #taz duck #taz indrid #duck x indrid #taz mothman #doodle #procreate

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patriciasage · 3 years

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imposter syndrome

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: The Adventure Zone - Amnesty

Summary:

“Yeah,” Duck laughs, “I just… We gotta put a pause on this, man. That abomination’s out there and I need to get back to –” He’s cut off by Indrid’s mouth on his again. This time he feels a flutter of unease in his chest. Indrid is acting strange.

Most people interrupt Duck during his disfluencies, trying to finish his sentence for him or change the subject. But ever since Duck told him about his discomfort with that, Indrid waits patiently for him to finish his scattered thoughts, head tilted to the side and expression soft. It isn’t like him to interrupt. And even though it’s really nice to finally kiss his crush, something doesn’t feel right.

And then the Mothman crashes through Duck’s living room window.

posted in full below the break but you can find me on A03!

There’s a knock on his door.

Duck nearly trips over Lucy on his way to answer it. She makes a grumbly little meow, and he grumbles right back at her as he regains his balance. “Dammit, Luce.” She scurries to the bedroom when he unlatches the door.

Standing on his front step is Indrid Cold. He’s wearing his regular outfit of jeans and a tank top, and he’s shivering a little in the spring air. “Hello, Duck Newton,” he says with an unnerving smile.

Duck grins back. “Indrid! God, it’s good to see you. I was- Hell, I was worried about you.”

Indrid adjusts his glasses and rubs his arm, flustered. Duck looks up at him and tries not to think about how cute he is. They don’t have time for that. “Come in.”

When Duck turns around, Indrid has closed the door and moved close into Duck’s space. “Oh, um, listen, Indrid,” Duck says, trying to stop the blush in his cheeks at the proximity. “I’m real sorry for, y’know, punchin’ you in the face…”

“All is forgiven, Duck,” Indrid replies with a smile. “You saved my life.”

Duck tries to keep his eyes forward, staring at Indrid’s chin, because whenever he looks up at the other man all he can think about is kissing him. They had spent a significant amount of time together during the last hunt and, although the Silf is a little strange, Duck knows flirting when he sees it. He hasn’t been on the receiving end of someone’s interest like this often, and it was a bit of a thrill to flirt back and let the Winnebago settle with a warm, mutual attraction. But they don’t have time for that right now.

“Listen, man, a lot has happened since you flew away. We got an abomination on the loose that’s real smart and real scary; it can –”

Indrid interrupts him. “I know.”

“Right. ‘Course, you do.” Duck chances a glance up at the other man and sees his own flustered, red reflection staring back at him. “It’s a little fucked up, if I’m being honest. I don’t know how we’re gonna –”

“Duck.” The ranger jumps when Indrid places a cold hand on the back of his neck. “I missed you.”

“Well, yeah, I- uh,” Duck stutters, “I missed…missed you, too.” The taller man smiles. “But Indrid, we need to –”

And then Indrid kisses him.

Duck kisses back without thinking. It’s been a while since he’s had any romantic contact, but he’s been daydreaming about this for quite a few months and insecurity doesn’t have the chance to take purchase. He places his hands on Indrid’s narrow hips and the other man hums before burying his hands in Duck’s hair. Indrid kisses him like he’s trying to consume him. Duck stumbles back a little at the ferocity and breaks for a breath.

“Woah. Yeah, alright. Right. I mean, this is… I been wantin’ this for a while.”

Indrid grins. “I know.”

And then the Mothman crashes through Duck’s living room window.

The three of them stare at each other for a stunned moment. Duck’s brain rushes to make sense of the situation – the paradoxical presence of the man whose hips he’s holding and the hulking, unsettling monster standing on shattered glass in the carpet. “What the fuck?”

Duck takes a step back out of Indrid’s embrace. The uncertainty in his chest becomes drenched in horror as he understands. But he doesn’t have the time to react. Everyone moves at once.

Indrid’s left hand morphs and turns into a sharp, flesh-coloured blade. The Mothman charges forward, knocking some model ships off of nearby shelves with his wings. Duck twists and falls back onto his couch in an attempt to escape.

Duck feels a burning pain in his side and his back hits the cushions. The Mothman crashes into Indrid and they both fall onto the coffee table. It breaks under their weight. Duck scrambles to grab Beacon at his belt, but the movement makes his side flare up and he lets out a shout. The Mothman’s huge red eyes meet his, but this gives the creature underneath it an opportunity. The abomination, its skin shifting as it struggles to maintain Indrid’s form, pushes up into the Mothman’s furry chest with ferocity. The Mothman lands on its wings with a grunt.

Even with its bestial facial features, Duck can tell the Mothman is surprised at the abomination’s strength and speed. The abomination is escaping out the broken window before Duck can draw his sword and before the Mothman can right itself.

They’re frozen for a moment, trapped in the sudden silence. Duck reaches across his body and places his hand on his right side. There’s warm blood soaking into his shirt and the fabric of his couch. “Fuck.” He grimaces. He breathes through the pain before looking back at the looming, dark creature shaking out its wings. “Indrid?”

The Mothman nods vigorously. “Yes!” It reaches a clawed hand into a pouch hanging off of a belt at its waist and retrieves a pair of large, red sunglasses. It quickly puts them on and the huge form of the Mothman turns into Indrid Cold. He’s wearing faded jeans, a bulky sweater, and an expression of guilty concern. “I’m so sorry, Duck. I flew as fast as I could.” He rushes forward and his hands flutter from Duck’s cheek to his shoulder and then a few inches over the wound on his ribs.

“Your hair’s longer,” Duck says.

Indrid’s hands stop moving and he just looks at him for a moment. “Yeah.”

Duck swallows, mouth dry. “Looks nice.”

“Thanks, Duck. Listen, you’re bleeding all over your fucking couch. Where’s the first aid kit?”

“Shouldn’t you know that?” Duck teases.

Indrid shakes his head in frustration, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He gently moves a strand of Duck’s hair behind his ear. “You know it doesn’t work like that.” He stands up and rushes to the ensuite bathroom. Duck smiles when he hears him say hello to Lucy before rifling through the cupboard.

“Then how come you found it without me telling you?” He calls out.

“I don’t have time for your shit, Duck Newton. I looked into the possible futures where you weren’t being difficult and just told me where it was!” This is, without a doubt, the real Indrid Cold. Talking to him feels natural, like it did months ago, not the strange, charged conversation with the imposter a few minutes ago. Even though he’s in a lot of pain and he’s going to have to replace his couch and his window, Duck feels calm and happy. And he might be going into shock…just a little bit.

Indrid returns with the first aid kit in his hands and a towel under his arm. “This isn’t really my area of expertise, so you’re going to have to assist me a little,” he admits. He nudges some pieces of wood away with his foot before kneeling on the carpet in between Duck’s knees. He places the items down on the couch and gestures. “Take your shirt off, please.”

Duck can’t help but blush at the sight of Indrid on his knees in front of him. He reaches for the hem of his shirt and raises it a bit before the pain of the movement stops him. He lets out a strangled cry at the same time that Indrid’s cold hands grasp his wrists. “Sorry! Sorry, Duck. I should be paying more attention. I shouldn’t have asked you to do that. Here.” Indrid begins to lift the hem before he stops, eyebrows furrowed. Instead, he reaches for the first aid kit.

Duck gives him a questioning look when he lifts a pair of fabric scissors. “Really?”

Indrid shrugs. “It’s going to hurt you to lift your arms.” He pauses, watching Duck’s face carefully. “Is this okay, Duck? Tell me how I can make you more comfortable.” Duck feels a warmth in his chest. This is the considerate Indrid he knows.

“Yeah, ‘s’fine, go ahead.” Duck feels his face heat even more, this time from embarrassment, as Indrid carefully cuts through his T-shirt and pulls the fabric away from his body. Indrid, usually perpetually distracted, is intensely focused on the task. Duck can’t stop thinking about how his position – slumped on the couch cushions – doesn’t do his body any favours. He knows that Indrid is focused on the bleeding wound on his side, not his stomach curling over his belt, but it doesn’t stop Duck from closing his eyes.

“Duck?” Indrid is looking at his face now. “What do I do now?”

“Right.” Duck takes a breath and harshly reminds himself that he’s forty-two, not fourteen. Still, he grits his teeth and attempts to straighten his posture. He gets a good look at the wound for the first time. It’s bleeding a lot but it’s not too deep. The abomination had obviously intended to stab him in the stomach, but Duck had twisted away, causing the weapon to slice a horizontal line through the skin over his ribs. “God, that was a close call, wasn’t it?”

Indrid doesn’t respond. Duck places the folded hand towel over the wound and presses down. When he turns back to his companion, Indrid is staring at the center of his chest. His lips are pressed into a thin line and he’s breathing hard. “Indrid?”

“It was a close call, Duck Newton.” He harshly wipes his eyes under the glasses. “There were so many futures where I wasn’t fast enough, and I watched it impale you. There were so many futures where I didn’t come at all and it killed you in other, horrible ways. And it killed you wearing my face, Duck –”

Duck leans forward, even though it hurts, and places his free hand on Indrid’s shoulder. “Hey, woah, slow down, man. You made it. I’m alright.”

Suddenly, Indrid looks furious. “And it kissed you.”

For a second, Duck feels a surge of shame, but he pushes it away. The abomination obviously has access to memories that give it accuracy in appearance and behaviour. He couldn’t have known. “I’m, uh…yeah. That musta been weird for you to see.”

“Yeah, it was weird, Duck.” Indrid’s hands tighten on Duck’s knees, seemingly without intention. “It was weird because I’ve wanted to kiss you for months. I think you’re the bravest, kindest, most handsome man I’ve ever met. And you kissed him back. You kissed him back because you also want to kiss me. And I’m so fucking mad that it took that from you – that it took that from me!”

Duck is stunned into silence. Indrid has always been a very honest man, but Duck wasn’t prepared for such an emotional confession and confirmation. He finds his voice. “I still want you to kiss me.”

“What?”

“It didn’t take anything, Indrid. I want you to kiss me. For real. The real you. I still want that.”

Indrid leans forward, bracketed by Duck’s legs. He places both hands on Duck’s stubbled cheeks. “Are you sure?”

Duck nods. “Yeah.”

Indrid kisses him with tenderness and care, almost reverence. If Duck had been standing, his knees would be weak. Indrid’s lips are slightly chapped. His thumb slowly caresses Duck’s cheekbone. The abomination had known a lot about Indrid Cold, but it got so many things wrong. It had kissed Duck like it wanted to consume him. Indrid kisses Duck like he’s giving himself over. He kisses Duck like he’s precious, like he wants to keep him safe.

Duck wants to pull him closer, hold onto his back, but in that moment he becomes aware of his own hand pressing a towel to the wound on his abdomen. Regretfully, and very slowly, he pulls away. “Let’s bandage me up and then we can keep doin’ this, alright?”

Indrid shakes himself. “Yes, of course. You’re hurt. What am I doing?”

“What I asked you to.” Duck replies, somehow both stern and coy. He’s satisfied when Indrid’s expression softens.

They patch him up well enough to stop the bleeding. Indrid retrieves a button-up shirt from the closet so that he doesn’t have to raise his arms. Duck catches him staring, eyes lingering appreciatively on his chest and stomach before they’re covered up by closed buttons. Duck blushes again, pleased.

This abomination is terrifying. It’s lodged itself in the heart of Kepler and Duck isn’t sure how they’re going to get it out without disturbing the peace. It feels like it’s a catalyst for something bigger, something they’re not ready for.

But Indrid’s back. And Indrid kissed him. And sometimes it’s alright to focus on a good thing for a moment.

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