#indruck discord

[thiswasinevitableid]

Fall Fun (Indruck)

The runner up of the spooky creatures poll was "person indebted to a pumpkin demon."

Thanks to @bellafarallones2 for playing in this space on discord. This ended up being SFW, but if you need your horny pumpkin demon fix, I got you covered. And you can find even more plant demons here

Indrid Cold sits on the bedroom floor of his tiny studio apartment. The one that’s not up to code and he’s paying for under the table. The one he has just drawn green chalk markings all across the floor of. 

In retrospect, it was always going to come to this. 

Last year, the instant he turned 18, he moved out of his father’s huge, historic house and as far as his limited funds would carry him. Which turned out to be the other side of town. For awhile the combination from his pay at the Dollar General and commissions for his art were enough to keep him afloat. But now someone, he’s almost positive it’s his father, has bought the building he’s living in and jacking up the rent.

Indrid doesn’t have as many tools at his disposal as he’d like. But he’s got a strange  book he found at a thrift store and a willingness to get weird, and that will have to do for now. 

He finishes drawing the circles and lights the candles–orange–and reads the incantation. As the last word leaves his lips, the markings turn to vines, sprouting across the floorboards until he’s sitting in the middle of a pumpkin patch. A massive, orange pumpkin rises from the ground, nearly hits the ceiling before opening with a wet crack. 

A figure steps from within, and for a moment Indrid thinks he’s in a Washington Irving story; the man’s body is topped with a green pumpkin head, its eyes flickering with fire, and he’s clad in a green cape and riding clothes. 

The demon stares down at Indrid, then looks at his own feet. 

“Aw fuck, thought this spell’d been wiped from the books.”

“...excuse me?”

The demon picks pumpkin guts from his sleeves, “This entrance is messy as all get out. Wrote a new one where I just kinda poof into place. Guess you must’ve found a real old book.  Whelp, no point in dwellin’ on it; what can I do for you?”

Indrid cannot decide if the friendly demeanor or the southern accent is more wrong-footing, but he clears his throat and says, “I wish to make a pact, great and terrible one.”

“Okay, shoot.” The demon sets his gloved hands on his hips. 

“I…I want you to make it so that no one owns this building, but that no one makes me own it and, I don’t know, pay taxes on it or something. I just want to live here and be left alone.”

The demon looks around, then makes his way to the door and flips the light switch, leaving Indrid squinting under the bare bulbs.

“Hate to say it, slim, but it kinda looks like no one owns it now.”

“Yes, it does give that impression. But right now it costs me $800 a month with the promise of climbing more.”

The demon whistles, an odd, low tone, “Damn. Yeah, I can do that. But you gotta…uh, one sec” He pulls a faded, green book from his pocket and quickly scans the pages, “lemme see…looks like the best I can do is that favor in exchange for a year's worth of service to me. Bit steep, but we got brackets for this stuff that we gotta follow.”

“Done.” It’ll take him that long to save up for a move anyway. 

The demon holds out a hand, and when Indrid shakes it he feels vines and wood beneath, not skin. As carved eyes flash green flame, he’s glad he didn’t ask for more. 

“Deal’s in place. I’ll be around in a day or two. Gotta figure out how to put you to work.” He winks, then sinks into the floor with a “see you around, slim.”

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

“You gonna come hang out tonight?” Barclay slips an extra cookie into Indrids’ bag as he picks up his order.

“No, I don’t think so. Thank you for offering but I will be busy.” 

His friend looks worried enough that Indrid almost feels bad for the fact that what he’ll be busy doing is staring at the wall and wondering what the point of it all is. 

“Well if you change your mind, you know where to find me. Aubrey helped Ned clear out some Saturday Night Dead videos, so who knows what she’ll bring to watch.”

Indrid promises to think about it, then trudges home in the chilly air to a chillier apartment. Then it feels as if he’s in a late summer garden, and when he turns the demon is watching him. 

“Got a job for you.”

“Alright.” Indrid tries not to flinch as the creature raises his hand. A snap like breaking branches produces nothing but a cluster of new groceries on his counter. 

“You want me to bake for you?” Indrid picks up the box of pumpkin spice cake mix.

“Not quite. See, what’s gonna happen is you’re gonna make those, put ‘em all in this” a pumpkin shaped cake carrier appears “and go to your buddy’s house. You’re also gonna stop by your neighbor on the way, the nice guy with the funky metal goat statue in his yard.”

Indrid turns, can of cream cheese frosting in hand, “Apologies, dark one, but I’m not sure I see the point of this.”

The demon crosses his arms, “These last few days have been normal, right? How your days usually go?”

“Yes…”

“Yeah, see, you keep up like this, you’re just gonna shrivel up like a sapling in the sun.” The green coat rustles as he steps forward, “you’re lonely, slim. Don’t take demon powers to see that. Or that there are folks who don’t want you to feel that way. So” the demon tosses him an apron with a Death's Head Moth printed on the front, “get that oven on. And quit callin’ me ‘dark one’ and shit like that. You can just call me Duck; it’s a nickname.”

Indrid has a multitude of questions, but decides it’s better not to pester an entity that can turn his veins to vines. 

For some reason, Duck hangs around while he bakes, creaking and gliding from one end of the studio to the other, not speaking but not making Indrid feel as if he has to fill the silence. When he notices that he’s running out of time before movie night, the demon returns and perchings on the kitchen table as vines emerge to help Indrid frost the cupcakes. 

The demon dissipates as soon as he touches the front door. Indrid leaves a smaller container of cupcakes for his neighbor across the way, and the small burn he got from the oven is worth it a hundred times over when Barclay practically rips the door off its hinges letting him in. 

It’s only when he returns home, tired and happy, that he notices the stained, white paint of the bathroom is now a light, homey orange. Like candlelight in a window. 

It makes him smile. 

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

“Duck, can I ask you something?”

“Sure”  The green Jack’O Lantern by his chair replies, soft enough that only he can hear. 

“Why have me do this?” He gestures to the library's fall fair, where he’s currently under a pop-up tent next to a table of face-painting supplies. The children's librarian had been very excited when he’d volunteered his services; apparently none of the other volunteers felt confident in their artistic talents. 

“Are you not havin’ fun?”

“No. Nono, it’s actually rather nice. I was worried it would be overwhelming but it being outside has kept me from feeling trapped. And it’s fun to make the kids happy. I just don’t see how this benefits you.”

“It don’t. Not directly anyway. I was the god of harvest festivals once upon a time. Never cared much for the worship and such; I just liked watching people get all these little moments of joy outta things like pumpkins or turnips. Hell, even leaves. So I try’n do things to encourage that these days, too. Other demons might get all high on the fact they got power, but that’s never been my style. I’m a simple being.”

Indrid smirks, “That grazing board you made me spend three hours assembling yesterday begs to differ. I never should have let you know about Pinterest.”

“Was it or was it not the right thing to eat while watchin’ every single Halloween movie?”

“Oh it definitely was.” He raises one of his brushes, “but maybe I should paint you as a bunny or something, just to keep you humble.”

A vine sneaks through the back of the chair and playfully pinches him, “Careful, slim, hate to have to get handsy in front of all these people.”

Indrid stifles a laugh, “Alright, alright, fair enough.”

“....If you wanted to paint flames on me that’d be sick as hell.”

He dips his brush in the yellow paint, “Your wish is my command.”

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

Duck’s never been accidentally summoned before. Usually he always has time to at least toss on the robe and make himself look like he wasn’t just in the garden or petting his cat when they called. But tonight, he’s just come in from checking on his fall beds, still in his t-shirt and tattered jeans,  when he’s yanked upward and around into the human world. 

He can by smell alone that he’s in Indrid’s place, and as he wobbles he spots the bags of Halloween candy the man bought the night before (“it’s still a few days from now, but I like to make sure I have the good stuff to give away”). What he doesn’t see is his human. 

“‘Drid? You home?”

A ragged gasp comes from the mattress in the far corner of the room, and a face peeks out from  what he assumed was just a pile of blankets. 

“Duck? What” Indrid sniffs and wipes his eyes, “what are you doing here?”

“No fuckin’ clue.” He kneels by the bed, “but I got a hunch that it’s got to do with you hiding away like a bulb waiting for spring.”

Worryingly, Indrid whimpers at that and retreats most of the way back into the blanket. Duck rests a hand on his forehead, petting his silver hair. Without his gloves, it’s obvious how much of his form is plant matter masquerading as a man. But Indrid doesn’t flinch, and so Duck uses the ends of his fingers to gently scritch his scalp. 

“What happened?”

“I, my, my father turned up at the Lodge where Barclay works. A-aubrey and some of my other friends were there too and he yelled at all of them for helping me. He even threatened Barclay to his face, he, I think he was trying to goad him into a fight so he could call the cops on him. Mama threw him out but I, when Barclay called me I could tell how upset and scared he was and it, it’s all my fault.” His face scrunches up and he burrows, without hesitation, against Duck, trying not to cry. 

Duck knows he’s never known a human who he thought looked cute even when he was crying, but now is not the time to bring that up. Instead he wraps his arms around him and adds some vines for extra security. 

“Hey, hey slim it’s okay. It ain’t your fault.”

“But it is. He wouldn’t have done that if it weren’t for me”

“For all we know he would have because he’s a huge fuckin asshole.”

“I just…I’m bad luck. I’m always causing my friends trouble, they’d be, be better off not knowing me.” He’s clinging to Duck’s shirt, and there’s now dirt on his cheek from where it’s been pressed to him. 

“That ain’t true. Know I’m better having you in my life, and I bet they feel the same.”

A final, shuddery sob leaves the human. Then he says, flatly, “I would like to go to bed now.”

“Okay” Duck releases him, “you want me to tuck you in. These are great for that.” The vines wiggle but Indrid just blinks at them. 

“No. Thank you. I will see you soon.”

Duck cups his cheek and wishes him goodnight. Then he stays in the shadows, imperceptible, until he’s certain his human is sound asleep. 

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

Indrid is drunk on pumpkin spice BuzzBalls and practically passed out on a tombstone. 

Still not the worst birthday he’s had. 

Barclay had suggested he come over once trick or treating was done and join everyone for a Halloween/birthday party. He declined. It’s safer for them if he celebrates out here alone. 

He’s drunk enough that it feels like the ground is floating away. And like the world smells like the singed innards of a Jack’O Lantern.

Wait

“Duck?”

“Yep. Came by to bring you some special glow in the dark pumpkins and got kinda worried when I couldn’t find you.” The demon’s voice is blossom-soft as he lowers Indrid into his bed. He didn’t know Duck could teleport him as well. 

“M’fine, I promise.”

“‘Drid, it’s not even 7 pm and you’re falling down.” There’s a wooden buzz, then Duck says, “wait, it’s your birthday?”

Indrid sits up, finds the demon looking at the phone he left on the table.

“Yes. It has never been much fun to celebrate.”

There’s a flurry of vines and leaves, a burst of life, then Indrid’s apartment is full of lit pumpkins and halloween lights, making the walls orange and purple. Duck holds out a small, brown box. Indrid opens it. Inside are gauges for his ears; they’re burnished and beautifully organic looking, as if Duck made them of petrified pumpkin shell. 

“Figure I can do my part to change that.”

Indrid holds the box, looking up at Duck’s strange face. If someone like Duck cares about him, wants him to be happy, even when he’s seen him so pathetic…

“I…I want to go see my friends. I don’t want to celebrate alone.”

“I can help with that.” Duck kneels, rests the cool surface of his forehead against Indrid’s own. After a moment, he feels far more sober. And much braver.

“I don’t suppose there’s a way you could come with me? I like you so much and I want the others to get to know you too…”

“Gimme one sec. Uh, this might be kinda weird.” Duck sets his fingers into his eyes and mouth and pulls. There’s a hollow crunch and crack, and then the pumpkin splits and falls away. In its place is a round, human face with dark hair, a crooked smile, and beautiful, green eyes. 

“Oh” Indrid gasps. 

Duck smiles, “Don’t get too used to it, slim. Takes a lot of power to do this, so I can only pull it off now and then.” He looks down at his hands and the overalls he appeared in, “guess we’ll just tell ‘em my costume was a scarecrow or something. But, uh, how do we explain how we know each other?”

Indrid cautiously leans forward and kisses him. There’s a faint taste of smoke when the demon smiles into the kiss and slips his fingers into Indrid’s hair. 

“Perhaps we could introduce you as my boyfriend?”

Vines hug him close as Duck kisses him again and whispers, “Yeah, slim, let’s do that.”

[siren-brainrot-boogaloo]

Heyyyyyyyyyyyy I heard there’s an Indruck discord out there… uh, anyone got a link to that?

[bellafarallones2]

when the stars depart their habitual places

This is my third year of writing OT4 for the brilliant @thiswasinevitableid on Christmas! (How is it three? How can it possibly be three??) Anyway, I've had another amazing year talking about TAZ with you on Discord, and so I offer this unofficial, unapproved OT4 sequel to that AU where Barclay is a Catholic priest in the 1970s and Joseph and Duck are demons, as seen in this Sternclay fill and this Indruck fill.

~~~

By four-thirty in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, the only daylight remaining was gray and dim, and Indrid had a flashlight in his pocket for the walk home. It wasn’t a short walk to the church, but with Duck next to him, no amount of darkness could have kept Indrid from feeling safe. 

“Do demons usually celebrate Christmas?” Indrid asked as snow crunched underneath his feet. 

“Some of us,” said Duck. “I don’t think Joseph usually does. But I’ve been celebrating Christmas since before it was Christmas.” 

Soon they could see the church through the trees. The churchyard was peaceful in daylight, gray headstones capped with snow, but as evening deepened it was downright spooky. Indrid kept carefully to the path, fearful of tripping. The stained-glass windows of the sanctuary were dark, but the rectory was cheerfully lit. 

When they reached the church, Indrid and Duck went around to the back door and knocked.

Warm air and the delicious smell of food greeted them as soon as the door opened, along with a man in slacks and an undershirt. This was Barclay, the priest, though he didn’t look it right now. “Hello!” said Barclay. “Come in! I’m so glad you could make it.” 

“Thank you for inviting us,” said Indrid, and made to hand him the card he’d brought before realizing that Barclay’s hands were full. “I’ll just, uh-”

“Here, let me put down the bowl and I’ll -” Barclay wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and took the card Indrid had offered him. It said Merry Christmas on the front, and Indrid had drawn the churchyard in colored pencil, adding one bright long-tailed star in the dark sky above it. “This is gorgeous, Indrid,” said Barclay softly. “Thank you.” He went over and stuck it to the fridge with a magnet before he picked up his wooden spoon again. “You both make yourself comfortable.”

Indrid looked around the apartment. It was so small that Barclay’s Christmas tree was on a tabletop, the lamp that must normally sit there displaced to the floor underneath it. There were exactly two presents under the tree: one addressed to Barclay, and the other addressed to Joseph. 

“Merry Christmas,” said Joseph, standing up from his armchair to shake Indrid’s hand, then Duck’s. He was wearing a crisp white button-down and suit jacket, like he was going to mass. Duck was wearing a tasteful green waffle-knit pullover, and Indrid felt a little ridiculous in his Christmas sweater with the loose thread at his wrist. 

“Is there anything we can do to help?” said Indrid.

Barclay didn’t even turn around. “Just sit down, the food is almost ready.” 

“Would you like anything to drink?” said Joseph, as though he lived here himself. “We have a very nice red wine.”

“You’d know, since you bought it,” said Barclay teasingly. “I bought apple cider, too, for Indrid.” 

“I’d like some cider,” said Indrid. 

Joseph poured him a glass, and Indrid took a sip. It was rich and cinnamony, the next best thing to eggnog.

Barclay pulled a huge piece of roast beef out of the oven and stuck a thermometer into it. “Alright, dinner is served.” 

Indrid’s mouth was already watering. It was more food than he’d seen on one table in a long time: the roast beef, potatoes au gratin in a massive casserole dish with the cheese perfectly browned on top, and asparagus swimming in butter and cracked black pepper. 

“I’m glad you’re all here to help me eat all this,” said Barclay. “Indrid, you’d better be ready to take home leftovers. And Duck, Joe - if there were refrigerators in Hell, I’d expect you two to take home leftovers, too.”

They took their seats. Indrid was about to reach for a serving spoon when Barclay cleared his throat, made the sign of the cross, and closed his eyes. 

Shit. Of course Barclay would say grace. Indrid looked down at the table. 

“Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty-”

The tablecloth was tasteful cranberry-red. Their plates were nice china, white with gold borders. Indrid stared at them for a moment before he recognized them: these were the same plates he’d eaten off of when he’d gone over to Barclay’s house for dinner in high school. 

“-Through Christ, our Lord. Amen." Barclay crossed himself again. “Now let’s eat.” 

They took their first few bites in silence. The flames of the candles on the sideboard wavered, sending green wax dribbling down towards gold candlesticks. Indrid’s skin felt warm from the cider.

“You’ve outdone yourself as always,” said Joseph quietly.

“Yes,” said Indrid. “This is amazing.”

Duck made a noise of agreement, mouth too full of food to speak. 

“Thank you,” said Barclay. “I’m just glad I have all of you here with me to share it.” 

Joseph inquired politely about Indrid’s work, and the conversation flowed from there. It was a strange kind of Christmas dinner. Much warmer than the ones Indrid had at home growing up, even though things were still awkward between himself and Barclay, even though they all avoided mentioning what Duck and Joseph were. 

Suddenly their conversation was interrupted by the ringing of the bell in the church tower, muffled through walls but deep enough for Indrid to feel in his bones. Barclay put down his fork and looked up at the clock on the mantle. “I’d better get going. Are you sure you don’t want to come to the service, Indrid?”

“I’m sure. Are you sure you’re alright with us staying?”

“Of course. I trust Joseph to make sure you don’t burn the place down.” 

“I’ll try my best,” said Joseph.

Barclay hurried into the bedroom and shut the door. A moment later he emerged in his cassock, adjusting the collar. “Indrid, please take as many leftovers as you want.”

“Thank you,” said Indrid.

“Joseph, Duck- I’m trusting you to make sure he takes enough,” Barclay added, before darting out the front door and shutting it behind him. 

“I don’t want to be rude,” Indrid protested. 

“He literally set aside a bunch of Tupperware containers for you to fill up,” said Joseph. 

“Alright, alright.” Indrid took his plate to the sink and stood over the half-full casserole dish and slices of roast beef still swimming in drippings on the tray. “What can I take?”

“Anything. Everything. As much as you can cram into those containers.” 

“Okay.” Indrid picked up a spoon and started scooping potatoes.

Joseph watched from his seat at the table. “You know cooking for people is how he shows affection.”

“He must cook for you a lot, then.”

Joseph laughed. “Yes, he does.” 

By the time Indrid had finished stuffing several Tupperware containers with food and put them into the fridge to wait until he went home, Duck and Joseph were finished eating and brought their plates to the sink, too. Joseph hovered like he wanted Indrid to get out of the way.

“At least let me do the dishes,” said Indrid. 

Joseph waved a hand, and the food on the dishes vanished. Indrid jumped backwards as all the cabinets and drawers opened at once, the clean dishes flew into their right places with a clatter of porcelain, and the cabinets slammed closed again. 

“Oh,” said Indrid. 

“Sit down,” said Joseph, and sat down again in his armchair. When he crossed his legs his pant legs rode up to reveal red-and-green argyle socks. 

Indrid took his seat next to Duck in the loveseat. They could hear the music of the service playing faintly through the wall. 

Indrid tried to study Joseph without letting on that was what he was doing. He really was very handsome, clean-cut, black hair slicked back with pomade and dark eyebrows like lines of calligraphy ink on paper. 

Duck touched Indrid’s back comfortingly, and Indrid leaned up against him.

“So you’ve known Barclay since you were kids,” said Joseph. 

“I guess,” said Indrid. “We hung out a lot in high school. After that we sort of… went our separate ways. He went away to school, and seminary, and I stayed here. And after he came back we never reconnected. Until now, I guess. I always assumed he disapproved of my lifestyle.” 

“Is he the same as he was in high school?”

“I don’t know,” said Indrid. “I still feel like I don’t know him now. He always liked cooking, and taking care of people. I never thought he’d become a priest, though.”

“It’s a good option if you don’t want to get married,” said Joseph.

“It’s not 1400 anymore! Or even 1900! You don’t have to join the Catholic Church.” Indrid forced himself to lean back and take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I… I’m sure his congregation appreciates having such a caring person as their priest,” he added lamely. “And if it makes Barclay happy, I can’t do anything but support him.”

“You’re a good friend,” said Joseph. 

“Seems like you’re a good boyfriend,” said Duck to Joseph.

Joseph laughed. “I try to be.” He looked over to the window. “Oh, it’s snowing.” Joseph got up and went to the window to look out. Big white flakes fell, illuminated for a moment before they disappeared again into the darkness. “Yes, the Catholic church doesn’t approve of homosexuality. Or women in leadership roles, and a long list of other things. But it also doesn’t approve of demons, and here I am. Clearly Barclay doesn’t agree with the higher-ups on everything.”

Indrid was jarred out of trying to formulate a response by the realization that Duck’s hand was resting rather high up on his thigh. 

“We have at least an hour left of the service,” said Joseph. 

“I wonder what we’re gonna do to pass the time,” said Duck. 

“Duck, most humans are not as sexually liberated as we are, and I don’t want to make Indrid uncomfortable.”

“I think Indrid’s pretty sexually liberated.”

“I don’t even know what you’re implying!” said Indrid. His heart was in his throat - the phrase sexually liberated brought to mind scenes he’d seen in pornographic magazines, the kind of thing he would flip past accidentally and that would burn itself into his mind and return to him at embarrassing moments. 

Duck was unperturbed. “I think Joe wants to watch me fuck you.”

“I - I think it might be mutually enjoyable,” said Joseph. 

“How about you, Indrid?” said Duck. “No pressure.” 

“If you’re not interested, I would be perfectly happy to just make conversation. Duck and I could trade Hell gossip,” added Joseph. 

“I, um,” said Indrid. He looked from Duck to Joseph, who had closed the curtains again, shutting out the outside world. “I’d like the sex thing.”

Duck kissed him soundly. Indrid had never kissed a man in front of anyone else before. 

“Alright, clothes off,” said Duck, tugging on Indrid’s sweater.  

Indrid’s fingers paused on the button of his pants. “Can I keep my sweater on? I’ll be cold without it.”

“Alright, sugar. Can’t have you getting cold.”

“Thank you.” Indrid got his pants and underwear off and immediately straddled Duck’s lap, the fabric of Duck’s pants cool against his skin. 

“Ain’t you cute,” said Duck, petting him up under his sweater and kissing him. Indrid’s skin tingled with the thrill of being watched and he felt himself blush. He was very glad he was facing Duck, and the feeling of Duck’s warm hands on him was comfortingly familiar.

“Very,” agreed Joseph, voice measured. Indrid’s dick was already perking up at the attention.

“Fuck,” said Duck to Joseph. “He’s already starting to get hard for me.” 

“Already?” said Joseph.

“Yeah, this one’s real fun to play with. And magic is good for prepping him to fuck”

“You get impatient?” said Joseph, teasingly. 

“We both do. Right, ‘Drid?”

“Uh-huh.” Indrid kissed Duck back, one hand tangled in Duck’s hair. Duck was still teasing him, touching his thighs but not his dick. “I thought you were going to fuck me,” said Indrid playfully.

Duck reached around, squeezing Indrid’s butt and teasing his hole with a finger. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get there. You want me to use magic to prep you?”

“Yes.” By this time Indrid was very familiar with how the spell felt, so hot it was almost painful for a moment and leaving him slick and open and aching to be filled. But tonight Duck didn’t waste time.

Indrid let out a little whimper as Duck’s thick finger penetrated him. Trapped between Duck’s hand and Duck’s chest, Indrid had nowhere to go, nothing to do but surrender to the pleasure.

“Here, turn around. Good boy, yeah, there we go.” Indrid allowed Duck to move him, as Duck guided his dick into Indrid’s hole and let Indrid sink down onto it. Indrid didn’t process until he was already pinned there that meant he was facing Joseph. 

Their eyes met and Indrid felt like he was blushing harder than he’d ever done in his life, his dick hard and on full display, no idea what to do with his hands. Duck hooked a steadying arm around Indrid’s belly to hold him. Joseph was just sitting there, legs crossed, hands resting on the arms of his chair like he was watching television or something. But unless Indrid was imagining it, his face was slightly pinker than it had been before. 

Then Duck bit Indrid’s neck, forcing out a startled little gasp.

“Hell,” said Duck. “However often I fuck him, he’s always tight as a fucking virgin.” Duck reached around and gave Indrid’s dick a friendly squeeze but didn’t stroke it. Indrid understood his meaning, that he’d have to do at least some of the work himself. He rolled his hips, still not knowing what he was supposed to do with his hands. 

“You could touch your chest,” said Joseph mildly. “Put on a show for me.” 

Indrid clumsily pushed up his sweater to fondle his nipples, which already felt hard and sensitive.

“Isn’t he so handsome like this?” said Duck.

“Oh, yes,” said Joseph. “And well-behaved.”

“He knows I take good care of him. Don’t you, ‘Drid?” Duck gave his dick another little squeeze, rendering Indrid’s reply unintelligible. 

At that moment the front door opened and Barclay walked in. 

Indrid dropped his sweater, but he had no way to cover his lower half, his erection and the way Duck’s thick cock was obviously buried in his ass to the hilt. Joseph leapt to his feet and put himself between Indrid and the door, but the damage was done.

Barclay shut the door behind him, still dressed in his vestment from mass. For an instant he looked surprised, then angry. “What on earth are you doing?”

“You’re back early,” said Joseph calmly. 

“The eucharist went more quickly than I thought it would.” 

“Do you wish we’d waited for you to get back to start?” said Joseph. “We did get him all warmed up for you.”

“Fuck off.” Barclay took the stole off from around his neck and folded it. “I have mass again at midnight! I need coffee! I can’t believe the moment I leave, you just start -” he waved a hand dismissively. “I’m going to go change.” 

Joseph followed him into the bedroom. “Babe, let’s-” he started, but Indrid and Duck couldn’t make out the rest of the sentence after Barclay shut the door hard behind them. 

–

“Babe, let’s talk about this,” said Joseph.

“What did you tell them about me?” said Barclay.

“Nothing.”

Barclay stopped. “Really?”

“Absolutely nothing. Duck and I had talked about how Indrid might like if I watched Duck fucking him, and after you left we propositioned him. Your name was not even mentioned.”

Barclay buried his face in his hands. “And Indrid was really okay with it? And Duck?”

“Monogamy is not the default for demons. Very few of us get jealous like that.”

“And Indrid…”

“Seemed to be enjoying himself very much. You probably could have joined in if you’d wanted to.”

“But now I’ve fucked that up, too.”

“No! Well, probably right this instant we won’t just get back into it, but not forever. I still think you should talk about your feelings with him.”

“It’s hard. Especially because of who I am.” 

Joseph reached out, and when Barclay took his hand, he pulled Barclay into a hug and held him tight. “I know. I’m sorry.”

–

Duck and Indrid sat silent, hearing raised voices through the wall. 

Indrid, still shamefully hard, tried to climb off Duck’s lap, but Duck stopped him with a hand on his hip. “Hey, do you wanna cum quick before you put your pants back on?” said Duck quietly.

“...yes,” said Indrid, and shut his eyes tight. Duck’s hand on his dick was tight, comforting, expert. 

“You really are gorgeous like this,” Duck murmured into his ear as he stroked him off. “My perfect Indrid, there we are, be a good boy and cum for me… I got a tissue right here.”

Indrid shivered as he shot off. Then he toppled over onto the other half of the love seat, letting Duck’s dick slip out of him. Now he was very glad he’d worn this sweater, because of how soft and nice it was against his skin. Duck petted his side affectionately. 

“Might wanna put your pants on,” said Duck after a few moments. 

“Right.” Indrid got to his feet, stumbled into the bathroom, and cleaned himself up somewhat, feeling very guilty for doing this in a rectory sink. He washed his hands with soap and hot water, twice, and dried them and went back out to find Duck sitting there fully clothed like nothing had ever happened.

“Should we leave?” said Indrid. 

“I don’t think so,” said Duck. “Not without saying goodbye.”

“I feel terrible for upsetting Barclay.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Duck. “Joe and I had sort of… discussed it in advance, and he made it sound like Barclay wouldn’t be unhappy at all. Also I thought we’d be done by the time Barclay got back.”

Indrid made an unhappy noise and buried his face in his hands. He’d wanted so much to be friends again with Barclay, and now he’d fucked it up. 

The bedroom door opened, and Barclay emerged, followed by Joseph. 

“Hello,” said Indrid miserably. “I’m so sorry, Barclay.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Indrid. I’m sorry for shouting. I was just surprised. Can I interest you all in some Christmas cookies?”

“Sure,” said Indrid. 

Barclay went to the fridge and took a tray from on top of the freezer and put it down on the coffee table. It had red-tinted plastic wrap on it for Christmas. There were gingerbread men and women, sugar cookies lovingly iced to look like green christmas trees and red ornaments with white trim. 

This was clearly hours of baking - Indrid wondered if Joseph had been there, if Barclay had let Joseph help. He remembered when they were in high school, sitting in the kitchen keeping Barclay company while he baked, when the whole kitchen smelled like vanilla and sugar. Barclay never trusted him to help, though, except sometimes with the decorating.

Duck picked up a gingerbread man and bit the head off. “Holy cow, that’s a good cookie.”

“Thank you,” said Barclay, as he took a cookie himself and settled down in an armchair. “I put together a box to send you home with, too.”

“Thank you,” said Indrid. He took a bite of a sugar cookie. It was delicious, unimaginably better than the kind you could get at a grocery store.

“Divine,” murmured Joseph after taking a peanut-butter blossom. “How was the service?”

“Good,” said Barclay. “Ruth really did an excellent job on the organ and the altarboy did what he was supposed to. I’ll have to see how midnight goes.” 

“We could hear the music through the wall,” said Duck. “Sounded pretty good to me. Do a lot of folks come to the midnight service?”

“Some, but families with kids tend not to, which is understandable.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to wreck my sleep schedule by staying up past midnight either,” said Duck. 

At that moment Indrid failed to suppress a yawn. It wasn’t even that late, but he was exhausted.

“Speaking of wrecking your sleep schedule, we should maybe get going soon,” said Duck. 

“Yes, yes,” said Barclay. “I know you have to walk all the way home, and it’s still snowing.” 

“I hate to admit it, but I should probably be getting to bed soon,” said Indrid.

Barclay went to the fridge, took out the containers Indrid had packed with food, and balanced a tin of cookies on top of them. “Here, let me give you a bag to carry all this home in.” Barclay transferred the containers into a tote bag, and handed it to Indrid. 

“Thank you,” said Indrid, and allowed Barclay to walk him to the door. Duck was already standing there, smiling. 

“It was so nice to see you both,” said Joseph.

“Yeah,” said Duck. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” said Barclay. 

Duck opened the door. Snowflakes swirled downwards in the dark. Indrid paused on the doorstep and turned around. Barclay was still standing there. 

“Thank you for inviting us over,” said Indrid. “I really want us to be friends again. I’m not much of a cook but I’d love to have you and Joseph come over sometime soon, maybe just to play board games or something…”

“Indrid…” said Barclay. He had such gorgeous eyes, he always had. “My feelings haven’t changed about you. Not since high school.”

Feelings? What feelings? “What do you mean?” said Indrid cautiously.

“I like you.”

“Oh. I like you too, Barclay. And I’m so glad you invited us over because I want to have you in my life again, I missed you so much when we weren’t talking…”

For an instant Barclay looked over Indrid’s shoulder at Duck. Then he looked back at Indrid, meeting Indrid’s eyes. Then Barclay leaned forward and kissed him, quickly, just long enough for Indrid to register the tickle of Barclay’s beard against his cheek.

Indrid… Indrid felt like he might understand religion, now. If this was how people felt when Barclay gave them communion and heard their confession and told them that God was real… he’d be a believer.

“I’ll see you soon,” said Barclay. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” said Indrid, and hurried to catch up with Duck.

[maplekeene]

Do you like Indruck? Do you like Amnesty? Do you like TMWCIFTC? Then do we have the server for you!

It’s EGGNOGSTIC! It’s OPEN! It’s FREE TO THE PUBLIC!

The only rule that you’ll need to know before joining is that our minimum age is 14, and our maximum is 25, but other than that, hop right in!!!

https://discord.gg/J4UJNw4

[sylffs]

man yall i just want more indruck content

i read ALL the indruck on ao3

ALL OF IT

[indrucks]

if you’re looking for an indruck discord server, shoot me a message for an invite, we just started a new one, it’s open and will remain open to new members

[pantstacular]

Okay...I’m just gonna ask because I’ve googled and tumblr searched and done everything I can to find an Indruck Discord server open to any age? (Or older than 25?) Like I don’t think it exists...If I made an open server would anyone care/join? I don’t know anything about Discord tbh but I would love the chance to be able to discuss the pairing and such like everyone else ><

[rhinocio]

Adventures on the Ducknerva Canoe (Round One)

[taz-shipping-docks]

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!

[groundgritsarchive]

its funny because! duck never expected to save earth. that wasnt his calling, that wasnt the role he wanted to play, he wanted to be happy. he didnt want to know about syvane, he didnt want to fight its war, he didnt want to save their world, either. he didnt know about indrid, either, or george, but he saved them anyways, and he saved them all for eachother. he saved them for everyone but himself but more than anything for himself. to be happy and live the life he wanted, because he realized it wasnt about finding the life you wanted but making the life you wanted.

it doesnt seem fair that he didnt get to have it longer. (if you want to understand we are still accepting George art as an application to the discord server.)

[angellioncosplay]

Last year I cosplayed Duck Newton based on @starryfishbonesoup ‘s incredible art! It was so much fun and I was able to pull my dearest friend @sunchildcosplay into being my Indrid! These stunning photos were taken by our amazing photog and friend, Court!

I have so much planned for these two and I look forward to making more content for this wonderful fandom in the future! I’ll forever be grateful to @thiswasinevitableid and @thats-amnesty-babe for making so much amazing content that I couldn’t help but love Indruck! I’m also grateful to all of my new friends in the Indruck discord! Y’all are the best 🥰

I had some really cool additions to my Duck cosplay! I made quite a few details like the medallion on Duck’s hat, my sword belt: Beacon, my tree tie pin, hand dyed pants, and sewn on fur collar! My friend muddleboy made all of my cool patches!

Fun bonus content includes the nonsense on Duck’s clipboard, if you can read it clearly, and the way we cut and scruffed up the collar of Indrid’s sweater so it looks moth eaten as he definitely noms on it 🥰 The next post will be much more shippy 😘

You can check out more on my other social media accounts like TikTok and Instagram where I also go by @angellioncosplay

[thiswasinevitableid]

Beware the Bear (Indruck)

The winner of the "spooky places" prompt poll was 24 Hour Arcade

Credit to Bellafarallones for initially playing in the "only nice when a werebear" super villain space on discord.

The Halloween season is the only time Kepopolis becomes less grim. The winter holidays offer too much contrast, too much of a reminder that the world could be warm, bright, and peaceful if only somebody gave a damn. The rest of the time there’s nothing to offset the gloom, no way to ignore the tombstones of utopia clouding the skyline. Not without feeling like an ostrich whose head is in the sand while a lion runs off with its body. 

Come the end of July, the city reaches an agreement to spend three months coated in orange and purple lights and fake cobwebs, to pretend everything is a horror movie backdrop that will roll away when November comes. 

Mothman’s Arcade is no exception, though Indrid prides himself–as owner–on going above and beyond when it comes to Halloween cheer. He’s rather pleased with this year’s purchase of new, blacklight responsive skeleton banners, which flap cheerfully on the walls as he clocks out, Kirby waving to him as he comes in for his midnight to eight a.m shift. 

It’s eight blocks home, blocks he could do blindfolded, and there are even two streetlights between here and there. Maybe that’s why he lets his mind wander far enough that it’s like being yanked by the throat when someone speaks to him. 

No, wait, someone’s hand is literally on his throat. 

“Okay pal, we don’t want any trouble.” The taller of the two muggers pushes him into an alleyway, behind a dumpster where he has no chance of being seen, “wallet and anything else you’ve got.”

Indrid passes over his wallet, knowing full well there’s nothing in it to steal. The second robber opens it and frowns, “you got anything else? Maybe some cash you’re taking to the bank after emptying those machines?”

He tries not to think too hard about the fact he’s been stalked from work, nor about the fact he does have an envelope of cash he’d been planning to deposit in the morning. 

“Hey, shithead, you heard me, you got any cash?”

“No. I do not have any.” He lies. 

His back bangs into the dumpster as four hands shove and tug at his clothes, coming away with the envelope. His heart sinks; there goes payroll and his nose. 

“You lying piece of-”

Both men leave the ground at the same time, their feet kicking in the air as huge, furry paws grip their scruffs. 

“Now fellas, I’m gonna give you two options: you either give this man back his money and walk away, or I take his money back and toss you in that dumpster.”

The envelope smacks Indrid in the face, sneakers pattering away before he gets it back into his pocket. 

Were-creatures aren’t unheard of in Kepler, and there was a very nice were-cougar who used to come to the arcade after work to place Pac-Man. But he’s never been this close to a werebear, and even on all fours the monster’s snout is level with his face. 

“You okay, slim?” One blue eye and one brown one look him up and down, “they didn’t hurt you too bad?”

“My back is bruised” The adrenaline is dying and his fingers are starting to shake, “I, I’m more shaken up than anything else. And honestly feel very foolish. I know better, I just, I live here, I know here and, and do I look like the kind who has money on him??”

“Nah. But in a cool punk way, not in a bum way.” The werebear pads beside him back onto the sidewalk, “you want me to walk you home? Just in case those chuckleheads get any ideas?”

“Yes, please. It’s not far.” Indrid turns towards Oak Avenue, follows it until Pine, the werebear staying a polite distance to his right, occasionally stopping to throw litter into the nearest trash can.

When they reach Eastwood Apartments, Indrid hesitates. 

“They ain’t followin’ us, if that’s what you’re scared of. Can’t smell ‘em. Just you and” he sniffs the air, “couple of raccoons. Aww, there they are.” He smiles as the masked faces look up from the rain gutter at him. 

He’s so cute. And huge. And Indrid’s apartment is cold this time of year.

“Would you like to come up with me? I haven’t had dinner and it seems only polite given you helped me.”

“If it ain’t too much trouble, sure.”

There’s a slight amount of trouble navigating a werebear up the narrow stairs, but they manage, and his guest sniffs out the water glasses while Indrid opens the fridge. 

“I warn you, I have only the fanciest foods. Behold” he presents the boxes of pizza rolls with a flourish. 

The werebear laughs, “Hell yeah you do.”

Indrid heats the rolls as claws gently click across the fake tile, his furry protector studying the art and posters on the walls and frowning at the shaky kitchen table leg. Since the chairs are not werebear sized, Indrid perches on the arm of the couch as the werebear happily sits and leans against the wall. 

“May I know the name of my guest?” Indrid swings his legs.

“Duck. It’s a nickname.” The werebear drops half the plate of rolls into his mouth, “So, uh, Indrid, what’s it like workin’ at an arcade?”

“How did–oh, yes, my nametag–well, it has its benefits and it’s annoyances like any job. But the hours suit me and I own the place free and clear. Plus being in charge means I pick what goes in the vending machines.”

“You get free play too?”

“Yes. Also the discretion to give tokens to who I please and select the least grim plushes for the prize counter.”

“Who gets free tokens?” Duck finishes his plate.

“Anyone who saves my life, for starters.” Indrid winks at him, gets an ear wiggle in reply. 

“Wouldn't turn down a few, especially if you got old school games. Or Tony Hawk ones. Seriously though, how do you decide who to give ‘em too?”

Indrid explains and finds four more follow up questions waiting for him. Duck makes conversation like a man who hasn’t heard a human voice in ten years. Indrid doesn’t mind one bit. 

Eventually, his body reminds him he needs at least a little sleep, and he yawns. 

“Oughta let you get to bed.”

“I suppose…” Indrid bites his lip, “but I really am enjoying spending time with you. If you have somewhere to be I completely understand but, ah-”

The werebear stands, snuffling the top of Indrid’s head, “Okay slim, I’ll keep you company until you fall asleep.”

Duck covers his paws with his eyes while Indrid changes into his pajama pants and a sweater, then lays down next to the mattress. He’s big enough that his head is level with Indrid’s as they lay in the dark. 

Indrid falls asleep on his stomach, but when he wakes up during the night, he finds he’s draped an arm over a snoozing Duck. 

When he wakes up again, it’s to cursing and the sound of someone rifling through his rickety dresser. 

“Nooo” he whines playfully, “don’t go. You’re so warm and fuzzy, you should stay here.”

“Yeah, well, warm and fuzzy time is over.” A gruffer version of last night's drawl is accompanied by a shutting drawer, “I’m taking these swears and one of these tank tops.”

“Oh, of course.” Indrid sits up, putting on his glasses, “It hadn’t even occurred to me that you’d need clothes if you changed back while here.”

“Bettin a lot of things don’t occur to you.” Duck pulls on the shirt. It stretches across his belly and dark hair peeks through the collar. This softens the insult severely. 

“Well, you’re welcome to them. I have a sweatshirt that might fit too, you can drop it back off at the arcade when you have a chance.”

“Got better things to do than return some kids' laundry.” 

“In that case, no sweatshirt, as I happen to like it.” Indrid stands, crossing his arms, “if you are being defensive because you are afraid I will tell people you are a werebear, you do not need to be. I know people do not always treat the unfamiliar well. Your secret is safe with me.” He tries to meet Duck’s eyes, but the shorter man keeps looking away from him. His face is round, handsome but hardened, and all Indrid wants to do is run his fingers over it. 

“That ain’t what I’m afraid of. Honestly, ain’t afraid of anything you’d do, skinny. I could break you in half. All the same, this never happened, y’hear?”

“Perfectly.” Indrid sits back down, “Is there any chance I will see you again? Perhaps in a less, ah, grumpy mood?”

Duck opens the door, pauses, then says, “doubt it” before stepping through and slamming it shut. 

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

There was a time where waking up next to a cute guy would have made Duck’s day. There was a time where a lot of things would have made his day; seeing a cool plant, talking with Juno, leading a tour group. 

That was before. This is after. Now if only he could remember that four all the days of the month. 

His lunch is a protein smoothie and a sleeve of Thin Mints, which he bought two full moons ago, making one Brownie’s day.

He looks at the cookie in his hand. He bets Indrid would love cookies for lunch. 

No. That Duck doesn’t come out again. Not until next month, anyway. 

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

Barclay sips his from his travel cup, emblazoned with the logo of Amnesty Lodge, as he and Indrid stand in line for the ATM in the evening light. 

“You want to go see the new Scream movie with me? Brian bailed.”

Indrid isn’t surprised, given that his friend’s boyfriend seems like he’d prefer anything to spending time with Barclay. 

“I’d love to.”  

He moves one spot forward in line, then hears Barclay groan, “guess we’re getting our cash somewhere else.”

Indrid turns to see a supervillain striding towards the line. It’s the Bear, in his beaten duster coat and black mask, boots tromping on the concrete. 

“Everybody moves aside, nobody gets hurt.” He doesn’t even have to flash the gun on his hip; Indrid and the others all move away from the ATM, giving him unimpeded access. 

He’s heard the Bear is a very physical villain. He’s still not expecting him to just walk up and punch the ATM to get at the cash. 

There’s an ease and confidence to his strength, and when he hauls his bag over his shoulder it’s like he’s daring the world to take him on, just so he can give it a black eye to keep it humble. 

Indrid’s wondering what else he could do with those arms when Barclay nudges him and says, “C’mon, let's go grab dinner. I found this new sandwich place you’re gonna love.”

As they walk towards one of the less battered sections of Old Town, Indrid does wish he could have gotten a better look at the villain. 

He regrets this wish a week and a half later when, around two in the morning, a bank alarm sounds two blocks from the arcade.  A few seconds later a masked figure comes into the view through the window and ducks inside the arcade.

The Bear scans the consoles and Indrid pretends to be very busy with his inventory of tickets and tokens. Heavy footsteps that stop at the counter tell him this has not worked. 

“You the only one here?”

“Yes.” Indrid turns, keeps his eyes on the villain’s chest or lower. Which is a bit tricky since he’s actually taller than the pistol-packing example of Kepler’s finest cottage industry. 

“You gonna say anything if they come in?”

“No, as I am much less durable than an ATM. If it is of use to you, that room there” he points to his right, “is mainly full of machines that do not work. No one would ever go in.”

The Bear gives a grunt of assent and disappears through the glow in the dark curtains. Indrid returns to his checklist, only to put it down two minutes later as three cops shove the doors open and make a beeline for him. 

“Hey kid, you alone in here?”

Like any seasoned bystander of Kepler, Indrid lies. 

“Yes. It’s a very slow time of night for us.”

“We’re gonna have a look around all the same.”

He smiles, “Of course, officers. Oh, ah, but do be careful” he points to the glowing curtain, “my repair room has a leak in the roof and there is a terrible mix of water and loose wires in there.”

The cops do a short circuit of the main room, poking their heads into the storeroom, break room, and Indrid’s office before saying, “All clear. Night, kid.”

As the bell dings at their exit, Indrid mutters, “why does everyone keep calling me that? I am thirty-three.”

He’s still musing aloud as he kneels and starts unboxing plushes for the prize shelf. Just as he decides the Bear must have snuck out the back door, weather beaten boots step from the curtain. 

“Nice hiding spot you got back there.”

“Thank you.” Indrid looks up, which means he’s staring at the Bear’s crotch. A roaring, golden grizzly sits as his belt-buckle above a tantalizing bulge in his pants.

“Appreciating the view?”

“I, ah, I” he blushes, figures there’s no harm in a flattering truth, “yes.”

A hand roughly ruffles his hair, “Consider it a thank-you.” The hand moves through his hair again, slower this time, almost gentle, “and you oughta fix up that two-player Pac Man. It’s a crowd pleaser.”

“I will keep that in mind.” He starts to look up farther, to catch a glimpse of that handsome face in the colorful lights of the machines, but the Bear lets go as he tilts his head, turning his back and sauntering out of the store. 

Indrid hopes he’ll see him again, just for the masturbation fodder, but he doesn’t. There’s no sign of him around for weeks, and so Indrid figures he left for a new neighborhood. That or something scared him away. It’s that exact thought he’s mulling over when a knock comes to his door and he opens it to find a different kind of bear altogether.

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

Duck spent two weeks and change avoiding any place he might see Indrid motherfucking Cold, in spite of the fact his werebear senses, dulled as they are when he’s a human, kept picking up his scent around town. 

So what does he do the minute he transforms? He turns his useless-ass paws towards that skinny weirdo’s door. The moon wasn’t even all the way up yet. 

By the time he’s there, he’s feeling much better; there’s no harm in having a friend he sees once a month. Or maybe even more than a friend, if Indrid is into the idea. 

The human is surprised when finds Duck on his doorstep, but the resulting smile is worth every second of arguing with himself about this. 

“Thought I, uh, I’d check to see if you needed a walk to work? Or if you turned out to be at work, was gonna offer to walk you back.”

“I start at midnight this week.”

“Yeesh, don’t know how you do it.”

“I have always been a night owl of sorts. I used to stay up drawing until I passed out in my crayons.”

Duck follows Indrid inside, chuckling, “You’re like a little moth.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Y’know, all nocturnal and interesting to look at. And you got those tattoos” He tips his snout at the Luna moth on one shoulder and the Emperor Moth on his arm.

Indrid cocks his head, “Duck, have you been trying to come up with a nickname for me?”

“Maybe, uh, I mean, uh, fuck, I…yeah.” He scratches his ear sheepishly. 

“I’m flattered you’d spend so much time thinking of me.” Another smile, a touch more guarded.

Duck drops to all fours so he can meet Indrid’s eyes, “Hey I, uh, I wanted to apologize for last time. I know I was a dick the next morning, and I shouldn’t have been. In fact, that was me trying my damndest not to be, in some ways. When I get all fuzzy I get, well, fuzzy in here too” he taps his chest, “when I ain’t always the nicest the rest of the time. If that means you’d rather I scram, I can. I gotta patrol some tonight anyway.”

Indrid pets his cheek, dooming him to months of trying to recreate the touch with his own fingers, “Thank you for apologizing. And explaining. I’d very much like company on my way to work, and you’re welcome to play and, ah, shoot the breeze, as they say, once we’re there.”

“Sounds great” Duck nuzzles his forehead, “I’m gonna go patrol; when I’m like this, it’s easy to be a hero for folks, and I like to help when I can. See you at midnight, slim.”

“See you then” Indrid purrs. 

—-------------------------

Indrid takes his spot in the tour bus; the Monongahela is beautiful this time of year, and he promised himself that he’d finally get around to taking the tour up the Greenbank summit to see the view. 

As the bus putters forward, he pulls a postcard from his coat pocket. It was waiting for him this afternoon. 

There’s been one in his mail every three days for the last two weeks. 

This one is of the Kepler waterfront. On the back, in slightly sloppy writing, is this:

Hi little moth, 

You ever been on the ferris wheel here? I went as a kid. It’s how I learned I was scared of heights. Wouldn’t stand on anything taller than the front step for months. 

We should go some full moon. I know a real cool spot to see river otters. 

-Duck

The messages have all been written in the same pen. His address has not, and the writing looks like someone’s hand was being forced across the paper. All he can figure is that the reason Duck left early to “run an errand” was so he could write all these before his cranky self returned. 

Untangling his feelings about that is barely started by the time he reaches the summit. He wanders out with the rest of the group, reads the few signs and takes in the view. There’s a firewatch tower near a small, seasonal gift shop, and he looks up to see a man in a ranger uniform watching the visitors, stony-faced all the while. 

Then he sees Indrid and pulls his hat down over his eyes before crossing to another rail. 

That does explain why so many of the postcards are from the national forest.

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

In Duck’s defense, he thought Roswell crashing the governor’s civic celebration banquet would keep the cops occupied the whole night. That’s the only reason he’s now running for the one place in this neighborhood he knows he can hide. 

Indrid is behind the counter like last time, looking exasperated rather than afraid when he sees who it is. 

“Same room as last time?” 

“Damn right.” Duck slips into hiding, listens as Indrid does the same song and dance with the cops as before. 

Huh. The two-player Pac Man has definitely been tinkered with since the last time he was here. 

This time, when he steps through the curtain Indrid is waiting for him. 

“You know, I have a perfectly functional back door. You do not need to make me lie for you. You could just run out that door and into the alley or up a fire escape like a sensible villain.”

Duck is not in the mood to be lectured. Not by someone who could never understand what it’s like. 

He grabs Indrid’s shirt and shoves him against the wall, pressing close as he growls, “Let’s get on thing real clear: I can make you do any goddamn thing I want.”

Indrid’s squeak of alarm is not as alarmed as Duck needs it to be right now. 

“Heh, I get it. You’re one of those villain chasers.”

“Nono. If anyone is it’s my friend, I am certain he reads fan-fiction about villains abducting civilians and I will stop speaking now, apologies I babble when, when-”

“Nervous?”

“That’s not quite the word I’d use.” Indrid leans closer, peering at his face, and asks the worst possible question. 

“Do I know you?

“N-no, uh, fuck, you, you don’t not, fuck”

He should punch him and run. Yeah. That’ll work. 

Duck balls his fists and yanks Indrid into a kiss. The other man stiffens, then melts with a moan and cups Duck’s face, kissing him back like he knows him. Duck could break the kiss any second he wanted to, he could, if Indrid would just stop touching him, stop making pleased little sounds and hooking one ankle around Duck’s calf. 

Indrid pulls away, humming happily, and smiles, “You should consider solving more of your problems that way. You are very good at it.”

Duck’s heart sings with affection. So he snarls, shoves Indrid into a pinball machine, and runs out the door. 

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

It’s not Duck’s fault.

It’s not his fault that Indrid looked so sad in the early morning light, not his fault Indrid chose to wake up extra early so he could bid the werebear goodbye (because Duck had decided to spare him dealing with his grumpy human self come dawn).

It’s not his fault. Just like the dock fire wasn’t his fault. Just like it wasn’t his fault when he saw what the city was doing to Agent X and couldn’t convince them to stop. Just like it wasn’t his fault that they goaded Athena into leveling two city blocks. Just like it wasn’t his fault that when Kepler Chemical blew it’s goddamn top, he was the only member of his team to survive. 

Indrid Cold is just some guy. Duck will not be responsible for him. 

“Ahem.”

Indrid Cold is just some guy who is now standing in the door of the firewatch tower. 

“We need to talk. And please do not try to lie, that is torture beyond anything you can do as a villain.”

“I uh, I-”

“Duck.”  Indrid says more firmly. 

“What? You want a fuckin medal for putting who I am together?”

“No. I want…I wanted to talk with you as human you. Because I am not sure how much of when you are a bear you remember, but last night you begged me to be your boyfriend.”

“And you said no.” It comes out pathetic and defeated.

“Correct. Because I do not want a boyfriend who is kind to me one night a month. Who only wants to see me one night a month.”

“I do.” He bites his tongue, which does nothing.

“You do not act like it. You barely act like human-you sees me as a person, even when he’s not in his villain outfit.”

Duck takes a step closer, “Indrid, a whoooole lotta folks have tried to talk me out of the villain thing, and they offered way more than some skinny freak who’d let me fuck him now and then.”

Indrid’s face remains placid, “I’m not trying to talk you out of anything, or into being a hero again–yes I said ‘again’, anyone with any sense can work out who you used to be even if you or the city won’t confirm it–I am telling you that I am not going to be wooed one night and ignored for thirty, even if the one night makes me so very deeply happy. I think whoever you are when you are a werebear is still in there, and I want that person.”

“I ain’t sure I can give him to you. It’s…it’s complicated, little moth. I got my reasons for things and while they ain’t all noble they ain’t because I get my kicks being an asshole.” He tucks his hands in his pockets, feeling two-feet tall, “but I hear what you’re sayin. You don’t want me around, you say the word and I’m gone. Give you my goddamn word.”

“And what if?” Indrid closes the space between them, “I said I wanted you to try going out to dinner with me like this? Just once, after I get off work, as casual as you like.”

Duck meets his eyes, “I’d say The Bear ain’t one to run from a challenge.”

Indrid kisses him once, “Tomorrow at eight?”

“I’ll be there.”

Indrid turns for the door, then looks over his shoulder as he says, with a wink, “and if you come early, I might even give you some free play tokens for the pac man game I just fixed.”

“You got a deal, slim.”

[bellafarallones2]

Sternclay, NSFW, old gods AU based on a conversation in the Indruck discord

Joseph Stern felt like he’d been trampled by an elephant.

No, he reminded himself; if he’d been trampled by an elephant he’d be dead, and he was still alive. Just on his hands and knees, naked, on a hard basement floor, with cum dripping out of his ass, mouth, and possibly a nostril. And he was so close.

Not to orgasm, though the hope of that had been burning in his belly for a while. No. Close to the knowledge that would make or break his professional career. Whether the Order of the Birch Clearing, the cult he’d spent the last year infiltrating, was full of shit or actually did have a method of summoning an old god known as Barclay. The cult leader always said it with such gravitas. Barclay.

The orgy was part of the summoning ritual. Joseph’s body was the offering. (He’d been assured that offerings always survived the process.)

And then the air went crack, like the sound of a gas stove igniting, and the wavering outline of an old god appeared.

Brown fur, haloed in red light. Joseph had to squint to make out the shape: humanoid, but only just. And then there was a voice that seemed to reverberate from everywhere at once. Joseph’s grasp of the ancient tongue was a little shaky, but he caught the word for food, and the word for make or do… Barclay had been in the middle of cooking?

The person who had been fucking Joseph pulled out and gestured to his body. “For you, my lord.”

Barclay’s hands were huge against Joseph’s hips. But he couldn’t think about that right now. He needed to ask the god questions. He didn’t want to do it in front of everyone else. “Can we do this somewhere… private?” he whispered.

Barclay paused, and then spoke in English, voice warm. “Like… my realm?”

“I just, uh, I don’t want to be distracted from focusing on you. My lord.”

“Alright.”

The journey was easier than Joseph had expected. One moment he was on the floor, and the next he was in a formless white void. Barclay didn’t seem so big next to him anymore, or so eldritch. The red tint to his eyes must have been the reflected torchlight, because now his eyes looked brown.

Slowly, like Joseph’s eyes were adjusting to the light, a cozy kitchen emerged from the void. Something delicious-smelling was bubbling on the stove, and there were red-and-white checked curtains on the window above the sink.

“I do want to fuck,” said Joseph, getting to his feet, “but whatever that is smells really good.”

“Let me get you a bowl.”

It’s a testament to the dreamlike quality of the whole experience that Stern sat down on one of the kitchen chairs without thinking about what an absolute mess he was. Barclay didn’t seem to care.

As Barclay placed a steaming bowl of soup in front of him, Joseph realized that being naked in Barclay’s realm meant he didn’t have his notebook of questions with him. “Do you have a pen?”

“Is that a human sex thing?”

“No, no, it's a device for writing - do you write stuff down? Do you have a need to write stuff down? I don't even know who you'd be communicating with, or what you'd be remembering, or if your memory is even fallible, or -” A pen appeared in his hand. “Oh, thank you. Could I also have some paper?”

“What is all this for?”

“I want to learn about you.”

A sheet of paper appeared on the table beside the bowl of soup. Joseph clicked the pen a few times, about to start writing, before it hit him again just how delicious the soup smelled, and he put the pen down and picked up the spoon.

Barclay sat down in the chair next to him and watched him eat. “Why did you volunteer to be the offering? You’re more talkative than the people I usually get.”

“I, um, I didn’t volunteer. Not that I wasn’t interested once I saw you! The offerings are chosen ostensibly by lot but it was rigged. No idea why the leaders chose me.” Joseph swallowed a mouthful of soup. “But I’m glad they did.”

“Y’know, you can eat and fuck at the same time.”

“For some reason I think you fuck vigorously enough that my soup would spill.”

“You can sit in my lap to start. I’ll even feed you.” Barclay moved his chair out a little ways from the table, making room for Joseph to climb into his lap. His cock was long and hard, very slightly curved.

Joseph got out of his own chair and sank down on Barclay’s lap. He was so loose that that massive cock slipped easily inside him, so loose that having something thick inside him to clench down around felt… comforting.

“Oh, fuck, you feel good,” Barclay groaned. “Now open up.”

Joseph opened his mouth, closed his eyes, and let his god take care of him. He was very glad there was no one there to see this.

“And you look good like this. I’m gonna stuff you full like the cute offering you are.”

Joseph found a slow rhythm, grinding on Barclay’s cock. He was more focused on eating than on actually reaching orgasm, and Barclay’s claws were digging into his hips. When the soup was gone more food appeared in its place, sweet and savory things that gave Joseph an excuse to lick Barclay’s fingers.

Barclay’s other hand moved from around Joseph’s belly to between his legs as he nuzzled Joseph’s neck. “Are you going to come for me, little offering?”

“Yeah,” Joseph gasped. “Yeah, I think so - ah!” Barclay was coming too, it seemed, because Joseph felt full in a new way.

Joseph was facing the wrong way to hug him, but leaning back made Barclay get the hint, and he put his arms around Joseph again. His fur was warm and soft.

“I shouldn’t keep you too long,” said Barclay, just as Joseph thought he was about to nod off. “But feel free to summon me anytime.”

One last kiss to his temple, and then the kitchen was gone, and Joseph was back on the basement floor.

Physical sensation rushed back all at once. He was so, so, gross, and so full of cum, and also just full in general. It hadn’t felt like a lot of food as he was eating it, but now… He couldn’t even remember what kind of food it was, and he considered trying to make himself vomit to see, but he couldn’t bring himself to make the effort.

“You were there a long time,” said one of the cult members, reminding Joseph that he wasn’t alone.

Joseph managed to roll onto his back. “You didn’t tell me there’d be food!”

“What? He fed you?”

“Yeah,” said Joseph vaguely, at this point mostly just wanting to go to sleep. He hadn’t asked any of his questions, he realized. Oh, well. He’d just have to summon Barclay again.

[maplekeene]

Little reminder just for anyone who wants to join the indruck server!

We’re not currently Super Open for new members, but I am 100% serious when I say that if you draw or write any content for George, the mods have agreed you get Immediate Access!

So, yea

[roleplayfinder]

Hey sorry to bug you but I accidentally deleted my account and had to make a new one.. So im Shaine, I'll be 17 April 1st (my life is a joke) and I'd be super down to rp some... geraskier, nygmobblepot, roadrat, kylux, snuffmin, davekat, dracula bbc, johnlock, taakitz, ducknerva, indruck, sternclay, shyan, batjokes, or dnd ocs! I prefer literate and I like monster aus! My discord is boiled kneecaps#9370

boiled kneecaps#9370

[indrucks]

anyway i talked about this in different taz servers, but consider:

one of the reasons why indrid lives all alone in the winnebago is because more people around means seeing more futures, or “looking at more TV’s” at once. so when there’s a lot of people it’s more difficult to focus on what’s important, or to even notice what’s important - being alone helps with that. he can actually notice the big and bad things without having his vision cluttered. 

also, spending bigger amounts of time surrounded by more people sometimes means it all gets overwhelming. it’s an overload, basically. migraines and lack of focus and exhaustion and it’s all almost blinding and peace and solitude is needed immediately. 

duck is very good at picking up the signs of when it’s getting too much, and at finding a quiet place without making a fuss about it (and at helping out with the migraines etc). so whenever the two go out somewhere together indrid doesn’t even have to say anything for duck to know when it’s time to leave.