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#whatever ned and boyd had going on
planetquest · 3 years
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moral of the story is listen to taz amnesty. its got gay people. its got found family. its got aliens (several!!). its got canon gay bigfoot. its got mothman. whats not to like
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liltaz-asatreat · 2 years
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for the "Send me a fandom" thing, TAZ Amnesty :O?? -ise
blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most): It's gotta be Ned. He's such a good and funny character, and it breaks my heart that he never saw himself as brave because he was one of the bravest characters I've ever known. His death still hurts, and I'm still salty at Clint because it was 100% preventable within the mechanics of the game, but I also understand that it was the right time for him to go, and I would've chosen to do the exact same thing if I was playing him. Doesn't make it hurt less though or make the salt go away 😒
scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped): Doctor Harris Bonkers obviously lol He's so cute, and I loved whenever they brought him up, and then especially when he anthropomorphized and Griffin did the bunny noises for him talking and alfhalfhslfhdl
scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave): I honestly don't know if they're underrated/underappreciated because I don't really interact with the amnesty side of this fandom, but I feel like Hollace would be one. I love them so much, they're so cool and just trying their God damn best with the information they have. I have a feeling they would have kept the other Hornets in check if the Pine Guard had just been up front with them and let them into the fold
glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week): Billy and Beacon for sure. Billy is always fun, and it hurt when they had to say goodbye. I feel like they just didn't have enough time with him especially when he was finally able to fully communicate with them. And I know technically Beacon was always there, but he didn't get to talk much, and every time he did it was hilarious. I love how he gets on Duck's nerves and is horny for violence and thinks he's better than everyone else lmao
poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave): I think I'd have to say Pigeon if she counts as unpopular/controversial/whatever. She was a really cool character that I feel like the Pine Guard just abandoned when she would have made a great asset to the team if she was made a fully fledged member. Also, she wouldn't have shot Ned. But I swear the first part is more important to me than the second (even if the second is also very important to me lol)
horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason): I just think it would be funny to see Keith go through the plinko without actually dying :) He's a chill character once he stopped being an ass, but I feel like it would be fun to mess with him a little lol
eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell): fuck Boyd. That's all I have to say on the matter. That's not true, but it's more of a like, don't get me started thing lol We Don't Talk About Boyd Moche
Link to the OG post!
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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years
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Personal Demon (Indruck)
@pantstacular requested: 58 Is such my entire jam I’d pretty much die if you did it with Indruck.  “I’m a demon, you’re a witch, we’re enemies but when I show up to kill you, you’re crying and I really don’t know what to do now.” SFW
A talented, young warlock will employ the most complex, innovative, and powerful wards on their home. 
A seasoned warlock who was never that excited about all this in the first place will employ straightforward but deeply aggravating wards on their home. 
Indrid’s nemesis is in that second category. His wards are never fancy, but they’re durable and reliable, an utter pain in his tail to break down. Some cannot be broken by spells at all, and even a demon of his skill could burn through all his power trying to destroy them.
Which is why Indrid simply pays a passing human twenty dollars to kick a gap in the salt barrier, grits his teeth passing through the Rowan trees while his skin feels like he’s getting a full-body tattoo, and uses an oven mitt to open the iron door knob (the door is lined with iron, so he cannot slip as a shadow beneath it), hissing in pain all the while. 
“Duck Newton…” He lilts, certain the warlock will be terrified to hear his voice in his strong hold, “it is time to end things once and for all, dearest enemy.”
He keeps his eyes on the present, not wanting to spoil the fun for himself by peeking at the futures. He glides into the human’s bedroom, plants his feet on the floor, “your worthless soul is mine.” 
“Ughhhh” a muffled sound, Indrid flicking on the lights to find the human face-down on his bed, “are you fuckin serious? Now?”
“Yes, Duck Newton, now” dark energy crackles in his fingertips. 
Thwump
“Ack!” He shakes his head, Duck now sitting up, preparing to throw another pillow at him. 
“Get out.” Duck glowers, voice flat. 
“You dare to order me-”
Thwump
“Get!” Duck’s eyes are wet, red-rimmed, and Indrid notices he’s in sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt that’s damp in patches. 
“Have you been crying?” 
Thwump and his glasses are knocked askew. 
“How many of those blasted things do you have?” 
Two hovering pillows turn to four and all collide with him at once.
“Clearly you are, ow, in no mindset to, ow, duel me as I, ack, see fit. I shall return!”
He dissolves into shadow and speeds out the door, materializing on the sidewalk and paying a passerby ten dollars to fix the salt ring. 
Not willing to let a plan go to waste, he repeats this process the next night. This time, Duck is laying in the darkened living room. 
“Now, my greatest adversary, it is time to meet your end--why are you still crying?” He cocks his head as Duck magics the light on. 
“Because I’m in my own fuckin’ house and can do whatever I want.”
“But you seem upset.”
“No fuckin shit, sherlock.” Duck raises a throw pillow and Indrid covers his face far faster than he’d ever admit in public.
“I merely mean that, ah, perhaps a duel would be a welcome change of pace?”
“I look like I’m in the headspace to duel to you?” 
“Not at the moment, but that could change, yes? I do wish to destroy you, is that sufficient motivation to shake off this fog of misery that’s hanging about your soul like stale cologne?”
Duck groans, but straightens, reaching over the far arm of the couch. Indrid perks up, approaches at a safe distance, certain he will see a familiar sword or spell in a moment. 
What he gets is misted with holy water.
He hisses, wiping his face in a hurry. His power is so great that the diluted mixture doesn’t harm him, but it’s as if someone is squirting him in the face with lemon juice. 
“I banished you worse ways than this, demon, but I’m fuckin tired and you ain’t worth the goddamn energy and you don’t wanna end up straight back below. So get.” He raises the spray bottle, spritzes him again and Indrid backs away, spluttering and hissing. 
“You, you think you can threaten me, shoo me out like OW some common ghost GAh that was in my nose that time fine, fine I am going.” He stumbles over the threshold, falling on his ass on the pavement as Duck slams the door. 
Perhaps a new plan is in order. 
----------------------------
“You wanna know Ducks’ what?” Aubrey taps her spoon on the edge of the potion she’s mixing. 
“His favorite food. I wish to cheer him up. Unless of course, you wish to simply tell me what is troubling him.” Indrid grins at the witch.
“You know the rules, Cold; I don’t trade information between sides. And, like, even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you what’s going on with him. It’s...personal, okay?”
Indrid sighs. He expected that answer. Aubrey is the child of a witch of the light and a witch of the shadows, giving her a rare balance of powers. It also means entities of all moral alignments will come to her for aid. Her rules are simple; no fighting in her house and no getting her in the middle of major conflicts.
For all that, Indrid still has never told her his true name. She calls him ‘Cold,’ as everyone does. 
“French Onion Soup. That’s his favorite thing, from the Wolfe Grill downtown.”
“He likes that coffee fudge too, the one Barclay makes” Dani, Aubrey’s wife, adds from her spot spinning fur off a massive angora rabbit. 
Barclay is a kitchen witch, one with whom Indrid has a shaky truce (he egged on a fight in the restaurant, needing some quick points with the higher demons. It’s not his fault one of the humans knocked over a candle). He can probably manage to buy fudge without being scolded.
Duck’s added more fortifications since yesterday, and Indrid only needs a few moments anyway. He finds a sliver in a plane that lets him slip into Duck’s mirror, knowing the human is getting ready for bed. 
The human senses him, looks up from the sink, toothbrush still in his mouth. He blinks once, to tired to even count as annoyance.
“ ‘wat ‘ow?”
“I have brought you food.” Indrid waits until Duck spits into the sink to pass the two bags out of the mirror. 
“Why-”
“It will cheer you up. It is your favorite. Then you will have your fight back, and be ready to face me.”
Duck takes the bags, then several steps back, “y’know, most demons would see this is a chance to get me while I’m down.”
“Well” Indrid sniffs haughtily, “I am not most demons. Besides, what good is claiming your soul if it was like stepping on an ant?”
The warlock looks at the food, then at Indrid, “I ain’t gonna eat this.”
“Bu-wha-I got it specifically to please you!”
“And it could be poisoned or cursed or some shit.”
Indrid growls in frustration, “fine, wallow in your misery.” Then he’s out on the street again, ready to cause some evil. Or to go back to the bakery and drown his aggravation in a caramel eggnog latte.
----------------------------
Duck stares at the bags, still sitting on his kitchen counter. If he’s not going to bed any time soon, he should at least eat something. Not that though. Even if it’s his favorite. How the fuck did the demon know that?
Cold has never quite been like other demons Duck’s run across. When he’d yanked him out of Boyd (because Ned decided to read the inscription on a new artifact for the Cryptonomica), he hadn’t taken it personally, but proceeded to try and tempt Duck for two days solid with everything he could think of. Then he decided he liked Kepler and could do plenty of demonic work in it, which had Duck worried. The demon is powerful, he can feel it when they fight. But, while he still worries, Cold sticks to being a mid-level threat at best even if he keeps promising to destroy him.
God that soup smells good. 
He picks up a piece of amethyst, runs it over and over the air around the bag. No trace of anything dangerous. 
Fuck it.
Twenty minutes later his belly is full, he actually feels kinda sorta almost borderline happy, and he hasn’t turned into a frog or been transported to the underworld. 
When Cold inevitably shows up again a few days later, Duck doesn’t even look up from the model ship he’s working on . 
“Thanks for, uh, for dinner.” 
“How did you know I was here?” The silver-haired man steps out of the hall, red eyes glowing behind redder glasses. 
“I may not be able to sense auras or souls or shit, but you and I been dancin around each other for long enough that I can tell when the hair on my neck is standin up thanks to you.”
“Then you are prepared to fight?”
“No. Look, I dunno now how it is for demons, but takes more than nice food to make a fella get over somethin serious.”
“I see…” Cold looks around the room, “are you certain you are not interested in even a small bit of conflict?”
“Nope. Busy.”
“Well I am not!”
“Can’t you just go find another warlock to bother?””
“No! Well, yes, but I do not wish to. You are my adversary, the one I devote most of my time to tormenting.”
“That’s kinda an exaggeration. And it don’t change that I’m workin on this.” He points to the model, “so I’m just gonna ignore you until you leave.”
There’s a huff, followed by the fluttering of his mail as the demon knocks it onto the floor. He glances up and notices that Cold’s tail is now visible and twitching with agitation. When Duck does nothing else, he knocks the remaining mail on the ground. 
“That ain’t changin my mind.”
A roll of glass on tile, Cold pushing a water glass towards the edge of the counter with his finger. 
“Y’won’t like what happens if you do that.”
The glass tips over. As water spills onto the floor, Duck summons a towel with one hand and a dish of salt with the other. Before the demon can stop him, he draws a salt circle, trapping him in a small spot by the table. 
“Erase that this instant.”
“Nope. You been poppin in and out the last two weeks and not leavin when I ask nicely, so now you’re gonna stay right here until I decide you can leave.”
The demon drops down onto the floor, arms crossed and tail thrashing, “I just do not see what is so severe it makes you uninterested in anything but work, sleep, and making ships that cannot go anywhere.”
“Don’t expect you to understand.”
“Yes, but you also will not tell me so how can you know if-” a future flickers into vision, “your romantic partner left you.”
“That’s cheatin’.”
“That is what has upset you so?”
“Yeah, because we were together for six fuckin years, and she watched me grow up since I was eighteen and was my mentor and it feels like a big constant in my life is just fuckin gone.” He leaves out the part where he'd felt it going for awhile, where part of him knew it needed to but the rest wanted things to stay as they were. 
The demon cocks his head in that way of his, smirks but says nothing.
“Nevermind. You’re a demon, love ain’t somethin you got a concept of.” He stands, retrieving another bottle of adhesive from the too-empty living room. 
As he picks up the next piece, Cold murmurs, “It is not so foreign a concept as you might think.”
Duck shoots him an incredulous look. 
“I was a creature of the divine once, beings capable of great love, even if many of them do not utilize that capacity. Even if I was not supposed to in my role. But more than the memory of that feeling, I have moments in which I suspect I can feel it still.”
“Like when you see someone do somethin real wicked?” 
The demon doesn’t rise to the paltry bait, “When I go sit in a park, or those woods you like, and draw and watch people coming and going in a thousand little moments of mundanity, I feel something more than mere tranquility. Sometimes I will go to movies or to concerts, to feel the swell of joy and excitement, and it almost seems as if I love those around me.”
It’s the last thing Duck expects him to say, and so all he can do is stare at him a moment before returning to his work. The demon, content with the silence, watches cross-legged. When Duck grabs a packet of cookies from the kitchen he pauses, then hands one to Cold. 
The demon sniffs it, proceeds to nibble on the edge before making a delighted sound and shoving the whole thing in his mouth. 
“You never had Girl Scout cookies before?”
“No. I do not need to eat, and often only do so when temptation requires it. Or when Barclay makes something with eggnog in it.  Which is a pity; I really enjoy human food, you come up with such interesting things. Now it is my turn for a question. Why are you making those?”
Duck looks at the near-complete model, “I dunno. Helps me relax, nice to just be able to focus on one thing rather than worryin’ about work or warlock stuff or dyin’ alone or if you’re gonna randomly turn up in my goddamn bedroom without warnin’.”
“Knocking is not exactly demonic.”
He says it so matter-of-factly, the smile on his face oddly honest, that Duck cracks up. Giggles spill out of him as he rests his face in his hands. His elbows slip on the shiny tabletop, collapsing him forward, laughing loud enough to startle the cat from her hiding place. 
“Yeah” he sniffs, finally sitting up while wiping away tears and still chuckling, “guess it ain’t.”
The demon is smiling again, softer than his usual grin that glints like a knife in the dark. 
“Will you show me more of your ships?”
“You ain’t gettin outta that circle that easy.”
“I am aware. But you could bring them where I could see.” He seems genuinely excited at the idea. 
Duck stands, hands him the packet of Thin Mints, “I could do that, yeah. Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”
-----------------------------------------------
Duck picks up to the two reusable grocery bags, locking doors and throwing up extra wards behind him as he walks to his car. 
He slides into the drivers seat, sets the bags in back behind him. Turns around and finds the passenger seat occupied. 
“Venturing forth at last, I see.”
“I ventured forth plenty.”
“That was only for work. You have been the picture of a hermit since you were dumped, Duck Newton.” Cold adjusts his glasses in the rear-view mirror. 
“Have not. And it was mutual.”
“Shall we get out of the car so I can destroy you?”
“We could do that. Or…” he points at the bags, the demon peering into them curiously, “we could take these two bags of snacks to a concert in the park.”
Cold bites his lip. Duck holds his breath, already gearing up his spells in case the demon says no.
A seatbelt clicks, “very well.”
They find a spot under some trees, far back from the crowd. Cold is in his human disguise, but Duck would rather not risk being seen if his tail or horns make an appearance. The concert is all movie soundtracks that Duck doesn’t pay attention to. He’s too busy watching the demon gleefully explore the food he brought (he chose the weirdest desserts and snacks he could find, wanting to give him a taste of things he’d never had) and talking with him about more or less everything.
As they’re getting into the car under the light of the half moon, Cold sighs happily, “we should do this again sometime.”
“Yeah, we could. Just uh, don’t get your hopes up, okay?”
-------------------------------------------------------------
Duck is up to his elbows in the pieces of an IKEA dresser when Cold’s voice comes through the mirror.
“I need to be let in right now please and thank you.”
He sounds pained, so Duck hurries out to the front yard and opens the circle, allowing the demon to pass through. He’s hunched at an odd angle, clutching at his back. Once they’re inside he strips off his coat, revealing a splinter at the base of his neck. 
“Shit, what happened?”
“I materialized in the house of a well-prepared witch and was immediately backed into a Hawthorne bush. Lucky I am not a vampire, but gracious it stings.”
“Why come to me?” Duck is already guiding him to the couch.
“I thought you might be able to help. Also it is movie night.”
Duck examines the injury; it’s a small splinter, but the skin is already looking sickly. 
“Should be an easy fix. Lemme get my tools and I can get to work.”
------------------------------------------------
Indrid waits patiently for Duck to return, tries not to hiss at him too loudly when he pulls the splinter free. The human works quickly, and soon a tingling salve coats the sore spot. 
Rather than pull away, Duck smooths his hands down Indrid’s back, “damn, you’re all knotted up.”
“I was trying not to move too much and aggravate it.”
Duck’s thumbs rub small circles along his back, “here, I can fix that real easy.”
Indrid foresees where his fingers will touch next and let’s his desire overtake his caution. When Ducks hands come down again, he whimpers and wiggles happily. 
“Uhhhhh”
“It is my wings. In a way. They exist on another plane when not manifested here, and where you are touching is the place where it feels as you are stroking them.”
“That a good thing?”
“Yes, but you do not need to continue if you do not waAAhnnnt” he gasps as Duck slowly, steadily, runs his fingers over the spot again and again. 
The human leans forward, giggling, and whispers in his ear, “you’re purrin’.”
“I am awarerrrrrrrr.” His tail and horns appear, seeming to understand there is no need to hide here.  One of Duck’s hands skates up to his head, petting his hair and stroking his horns.
He whines, pushes his head into Duck’s hand for more. 
“Is this-”
“No Duck Newton, it is not sexual. It can be, but at the moment it simply feels comforting and pleasurable.” He purrs louder as Duck rubs the base of one horn. 
“That’s a good, uh, good demon? Bein’ so patient while I patch him up.” Duck coos. 
“Yes.” Indrid whimpers. 
“Lookit you, goin all mushy on me, so goddamn cute. Who knew you had it in you.”
“Duck.” Something is coiling through his veins, warm and ecstatic, as the human keeps up his stream of praise.
“Right here, demon of mine, just relax, lemme tend to you, there we go, you’re bein so good, such a charmin demon.”
Tears prick his eyes; he can’t, he can’t handle Duck speaking this way but speaking as if Indrid could be changed out for any one of his kind. He wants to know he means those words for him, he must, the feelings flooding him are incomplete without it and if they remain so he will wither away.
“Indrid, please, call me that.”
“Indrid.” It sounds joyous in that drawl as Duck adds a hint of pressure to his touches, “Indrid, you oughta stop gettin into trouble, oughta just stay here and put your head in my lap.”  The human is getting carried away, the fantasies becoming more elaborate, interspersed with his name, until the name itself becomes the litany. 
Indrid cries out, the energy in his veins enveloping him utterly for a moment, wings of absolute darkness flashing into view for an instant
He collapses forward, shaking, hoping the thanks pouring from his mouth are intelligible. 
“You, uh, you doin’ okay--Oh FUCK!”
Indrid whirls, finds Duck staring at his arm. There are glowing markings on it, blue and black light fading into a facsimile of ink on his skin. 
“What did you do?”
“What did I do? What makes you think this has anything to do with me?”
“Because this wasn’t there a minute ago! And you got one too!”
“I…” Indrid gapes at his forearm, where a matching symbol is setting in his skin. “Oh dear.”
“What?”
“It is, ah, well, it is a soul bond.”
“How in the everlovin’ fuck did that happen--wait, fuck, is Indrid your true name?”
“Yes.” 
“Shit! I thought you gave me another false one, or I never woulda kept saying it. I ain’t that kind of warlock, I don’t want a personal demon.”
“I am not exactly thrilled either. I cannot return to the underworld, and for the first few days of the bond I will need to stay very close to you. All the same, that was rash of me and I am sorry.”
Duck rubs his forehead, takes a deep breath, “we’ll deal with it tomorrow. Right now, all I wanna do is sleep.”
“I as well. I suspect that took a lot of energy from both of us.”
The human stands, heading off towards the bedroom. As soon as he’s out of sight, pangs pulse through Indrid’s chest.
“Ah, Duck?”
A groan, “yeah, I feel it too. Get in here.”
Indrid hurries to the bed, finds Duck down to his boxers as he turns over the covers. 
“I, ah, I can sleep on the floor, or get a blanket for that chair, or lay by your feet.”
Duck pats the bed, “sleepin next to you ain’t nothin’ compared to bein’ soul bonded. Bed feels too big anyway. And none of that by my feet talk; you’re my equal, not my fuckin pet, even if you are a pain in my ass sometimes.”
Indrid crawls in beside him, lays stiffly on his back as the lights go out. After so much contact, his body aches to touch Duck again. 
A hand rests in the space between them, and Indrid takes it.
“Duck? I, ah, I am glad that if this had to happen to me, it was you who it happened with. I cannot think of another warlock I would actually enjoy being linked too.”
“Feelin’s mutual.” Duck squeezes his hand, voice gentle.
Indrid rolls to face him, and in the dark he can just make out the slight smile on the warlock’s face. 
“Goodnight, Duck.”
A yawn, then, “sleep tight, Indrid.”
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ladyfl4me · 4 years
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Hi please yell about boyd and stern in TCOS and TMWCIFTC :D!
Anon, THANK YOU for enabling me, you have my fucking life in your hands
I’ll preface all of this by saying that everything in this post is related to my long-form Amnesty works, The Moth who Came In from the Cold and The Children of Sylvain. If you haven’t read those, then you’ll be pretty damn confused, so I guess now is as good of a time to plug them - and the series - as any. A heads up: I started it back in 2018, and everything in TCOS is just… very VERY loosely associated with Amnesty canon at this point. Same root premise, same characters, but back in 2018 even I couldn’t predict where arcs 4 and 5 ended up going. TMWCIFTC was written as the logical progression, in my head, of an alternate arc 4, and everything that happened in TCOS is based off of that progression. It’s got almost no connection to the actual canon at this point. I’ll be recapping some of the more important plot points for context, though.
Here’s hoping the read-more works. This was 7 pages long in the google doc I prepared this in, so I apologize in advance to everyone on my dash if this got fucked up. Spoilers for TMWCIFTC ahead, as well as general vague spoilers for Amnesty.
So everything’s coming up roses. Fantastic. Let’s start with the biggest thing: how the characters of Agent Stern and Boyd Mosche have changed from canon to this AU.
Boyd’s Changes:
We’ll start with Boyd, because this motherfucker is UNRECOGNIZABLE from canon. On god, that is all Griffin’s fault. Pretty much all of Boyd’s character was concentrated in arc 4 of Amnesty, and honestly? He was a fantastic character there. Loved him as a counterpart to Ned. He gave off an air of “the ends justify the means” in almost everything he did - especially how he was willing to do anything, including blackmail Ned to hell and back, to get back to England - which I’ve grafted into my version of him. The angst-loving part of my brain seized on the tragic possibilities of his relationship with Ned and was bumping “No Children” by the Mountain Goats every time they interacted. Great stuff, interesting complexity, was genuinely surprised when he kicked it.
All that happened after I introduced him as a character in TMWCIFTC. My version of him retains the smooth-talking Britishness of him, with the aforementioned “ends justify the means” logic for everything; I’d probably sort him as a chaotic neutral, with basically all of his points in wisdom, charisma and strength with very few in intelligence. I tried to work with that for the start. We knew nothing about Boyd at the time I was writing TMWCIFTC, so my brain wanted to fill in that blank for jokes and giggles and haha funny’s and was like, “Yo what if Boyd was a Sylph this entire time? Wouldn’t that be fucking hilarious?” 
And that’s what I did. What happened to make this version of Boyd was a bit of a random “perfect storm” of influences and choices, which really only got sharpened because of my one-shot The Devil Went Down To Georgia. That one’s the main source of all Boyd lore, even though I barely reference it these days because he’s gone so far off the rails it’s a miracle I can keep him straight. 
I’ve talked about The Devil Went Down To Georgia a lot in relation to Boyd on here. TL;DR, I decided to make him two things: a violinist and a Sylph/cryptid, specifically the Jersey Devil. Yes, he is still British. I chalk it up lore-wise to a few things: the original Jersey Devil is more of a distant relative, Boyd crossed over from Sylvain and ended up in Britain sometime after that, and just willingly chose to keep up the British persona Bastard. I don’t think about it too much. He’s been a criminal from the very beginning; he’d been in prison on Sylvain, went through some shit there that made him steal a crystal and book it, and he continued to do crime on Earth to survive.
The violin thing is mostly me desperately wanting a character to have that background, because I played for seven goddamn years and want to put that knowledge and catharsis somewhere. Boyd probably either picked up a Sylvan instrument that was similar, or learned it in the early 20th century when he came to Earth, and just held onto it. He held onto the skills and got good - good enough that he could have gone professional, and tried in 2007, but that didn’t go super well, as anyone who’s read TMWCIFTC can attest. 
In terms of the type of cryptid he is, I’ve made the Jersey Devils a subspecies on Sylvain that takes cervids (deer, moose, etc.) or bovines (goats, antelopes, cows, etc.), as well as canines/felines of any shape and size, puts them into a gashapon machine with pterodactyl-style wings, awful teeth, and a snake’s tail, and calls it a day. You can get a tiny Jersey Devil that’s a combo of a tiny cat and a dik-dik; you can get a jacked nine-foot-tall terrifying amalgam of a lion and a moose, with a fucked-up mouth of multiple rows of teeth and huge claws.
That last one is Boyd. Don’t call me a monsterfucker for this, I have no defense.
So where does that leave him in relation to the Lodge? Back in 2018, before I started developing the lore that factors into TCOS about Sylph communities outside the Lodge (namely the Manhattan Sylphs that Leo worked with when he was a Chosen One), I figured that it’d be funny if every single cryptid kinda just… knew each other, or hung out near the Lodge. As you know if you’ve read TMWCIFTC, he got into some trouble in 1967, which Barclay, Indrid and Mama “bailed him out of.”
Once they found out he was a fellow Sylvan, though, it became less about “report this guy to the authorities” and more about “we have to make sure we keep an eye on this guy so he doesn’t get himself, or other Sylphs, in trouble” thing. He basically became Mama’s mostly-socialized half-feral cat, slinking through the halls of Amnesty Lodge, eating random food, falling asleep wherever, sitting in rooms where people are doing interesting things and just watching them. And everyone... kind of likes him. Sure, he doesn’t have a sleep schedule, and they have to get soundproof panels installed in his room at the Lodge because he’ll stress-practice violin at 3 in the morning, and he keeps shoplifting stuff from local stores to give to people like a cat bringing back dead mice. But he’s a good man. And he’s getting better every day.
Then he got got by the Ashminder in ‘98. He bolted, completely forgot everything about the Lodge but had the address of a former Lodge resident on his body after his memory was wiped, found a still-alive but memory-wiped fellow Lodge dweller, and fled to that address. Boyd lived there for years, trying to clean up his act and try to anchor himself a bit. Then in 2007, something on his path went wrong, and the stress break he went through after that made him run from that place. That’s when he met Ned, and they had a few years together before Boyd ended up in jail.
Then, once they killed the Ashminder and the memories it had eaten came back, Voidfish-style, Boyd remembered everything: the people who’d taken care of him, the friends he’d made, the love he’d found, the time and effort he’d put into getting better, the rewards he’d reaped because of it. He remembered fighting monsters and defending them. He got hit with it all at once, and missed them. His parole date was coming up; he could bide his time until he was released, and run down there.
But then, at the start of TCOS, Something Happens that makes all Sylvan disguises and spells shit the fucking bed; his disguise spell, which has been hiding a nine foot-tall jacked demon out of hell, flickers, and the invisibility spell that had been put on his disguise item to hide it failed. Boyd knew he was fucked if the jail folks found out he was a Sylph, so he decided to fucking Kool-aid Man out of there, becoming a wanted man in the entire state of West Virginia and getting a bit roughed up in the process.
But hey. Whatever it takes to get home, right? 
Stern’s Changes:
Stern’s changed too, though, and here’s how. It was relatively simple to tweak him, because so much of him was a blank slate to begin with. First: that name. Garfield Kent Stern is his full name: Garfield for the cat/Deals Warlock, Kent after Kent Mansley, the irritating dipshit FBI agent antagonist from the classic animated movie The Iron Giant. Poor bastard. He started as a walking meme who I was going to kill off; I came up with that name long before we got his real name in canon, and didn’t want to retcon it out. 
I’m a sucker for secret connections and familial ties, too, and back in 2018 the headcanon gashapon gave me “what if Stern was a cousin of Duck’s, but there was family drama that made their parts of the family split when they were kids, so now 30 years later they don’t remember each other?” 
And that’s exactly what I did. Gary is Duck’s first cousin on Duck’s mom’s side; their mothers are sisters. Gary’s uncle Arnie was a Secret Service agent who tangled with an Indrid trying to stop the Kennedy Assassination once, and he keeps telling that story at Christmas, much to everyone’s chagrin. Gary remembered those stories, and even received Indrid’s old disguise glasses - knocked off his face during his uncle Arnie’s chase - and carried them with him for a long time.
He didn’t start off as a baby cop, though; he was more interested in hitting the books, finding out the logic and doing the research to figure things out. I have him become a history major, getting a PhD with a few bits and bobs here and there that I haven’t worked out yet. Whatever the case, he spent a LONG time in academia, from undergrad starting in 1996 to graduation in about 2005. 
Things weren’t as peachy as he thought they’d be, though. Gary wrote and published his thesis, like a good little PhD candidate, but someone was watching him. In his thesis, he’d been trying to cobble together various cryptid-related legends across the word and making connections between them, among other things. He’d managed to link up and explain something that Unexplained Phenomena had been trying to figure out themselves. They immediately intercepted his thesis, kept it from being disseminated anywhere else, erased all copies of it after graduation, and reached out to Gary independently to bring him on.
Make no mistake: he went willingly. Despite the whole thesis coverup, Agent Gary Stern wasn’t coerced into being a government stooge, and he wasn’t blackmailed - he was given an offer to work with the cryptid cops, and he enthusiastically took it. Government benefits were decent, he’d heard; post-grad options were looking slim, especially going into the recession. In his mind, there was a bit of allure to it all, too. A secret government organization looking into suspicious and possibly supernatural things all over the nation? Fantastic. More opportunities to do research. He was in. Gary accepted their offer and started basic FBI training in 2007 - the same year Boyd had that mental break and went AWOL, returning to his life of crime and meeting Ned.
Biggest mistake he’d ever made. But then again, if he didn’t take them up on that, he wouldn’t be here, would he?
So he joins UP, goes up the ranks. They had him researching and charting the Bigfoot case for a while, and he was the only one who was willing to work on it at all because… well, Bigfoot sightings weren’t as sophisticated as some of the other projects that were out there for UP. (See: Area 51. We don’t talk about Area 51. Nobody talks about Area 51. Definitely nothing shady and unethical going on in there, no experiments on anyone or anything, no sir.) 
Gary’s diligent, though, and doesn’t like to back down from a challenge. That’s all hunting Bigfoot was: a challenge. No personal stake, no empathy. It was a job to get done, even though an entire person’s life was at stake.
And he got so caught up in this challenge that, when he went to Kepler, he EASILY got attacked by the Ashminder and destroyed within an inch of his life. He got the very memory of his job and intent in Kepler torn out of his head; once the Ashminder died, and those memories came back, they didn’t feel like his anymore, or like they’d been part of his life plan to begin with. Overcome with confusion and guilt, he decided to clean up his act and try to work against the FBI, with Mama’s blessing. 
His goal? Quit the FBI, get them off the Lodge’s back, and then see what happens next. Maybe he’d go back to academia, or teach, or something - just get as far away from the FBI as possible, as far away as he can be from hurting people. But he’s got to bide his time, because if he bolts now, they’re going to get suspicious and put the Lodge in even more danger. And that’s where he is now.
So why have they changed?
Simple answer? I don’t want to rewrite them to fit with canon. I just don’t. I don’t want to make Boyd human; I don’t want to change Gary’s name to Joseph and make him a Bigfoot groupie. I don’t want to rewrite hundreds of thousands of words of work to fit last-minute decisions made in the end times of Amnesty’s canon. My fic has diverged so much from canon that the canon versions of the characters don’t belong here anymore. Besides, Stern was such a background character in arcs 3 and 4 that he barely mattered, making his reappearance in arc 5 a bit of a clumsy follow-through, and Boyd was a one-act wonder. A little expansion couldn’t hurt. Making Gary something other than a direct antagonist made the narrative load a little easier, too, at least on my end. I hate giving a cop screen time, but it’s easier to justify his existence by rewriting his backstory and making him slog through the hell of a redemption arc. He’s had that coming. 
This leads us to TCOS, though, where the arcs of our player characters turn a bit more towards the plot, as opposed to the emotional fulfillment they got in TMWCIFTC. Characters like Gary, Mama, Boyd, and Alexandra take center stage for emotional and backstory development, while the original player characters take a temporary backseat. Alexandra’s a key linchpin of the story as a whole, both emotionally and narratively; Mama gets lore expansions and has personal things to settle; and Gary and Boyd are… here. So:
How do these two work with each other in TCOS?
It’s great. It’s fantastic. These two are my favorite to write in TCOS because their conflict is just so fucking FUN. On the one hand, you have an almost-ex-FBI agent who’s been taken in by the Lodge, is related to a Pine Guard member, is trying to keep his coworkers off the Lodge’s back as sneakily as possible without drawing suspicion, and is desperate not to screw up this second chance he doesn’t think he deserves. On the other hand, you have an ex-con who got a second chance from the Lodge, sees them as his last best option to be safe as long as nobody reports them, and wants to keep them safe out of a sense of familial obligation he’s reluctant to admit to, even to himself.
That’s two people with questionable morals, with a semi-familial attachment to a place that gave them second chances, each seeing the actions of the other as a threat to their - and everyone else’s - safety. Claws come out almost immediately.
At the start, Boyd and Gary go together like apple juice and toothpaste. Boyd sees a narc who’s threatening the one safe place he has left; Gary sees an impulsive, selfish threat, a domino that - if it falls - threatens, you guessed it, the one safe place he (and other people, sure) has left. Boyd breaking out of jail means the entire state of West Virginia, and probably the whole East Coast, is on high alert looking for him, and if that attention comes anywhere near the Lodge? They’re fucked.
Neither of them believe that the other is capable of change or anything but selfish, malicious harm. Boyd has more of an argument than Gary because Gary is still actively reporting things to the FBI, but in Gary’s defense, the moment that he stops reporting anything to them, they’re going to suspect things and might end up sending more people to the Lodge. The Pine Guard can’t afford that, so Gary has to play by the rules until he’s in a position where he can quit. I’ll pull a specific argument they have from TCOS that I feel really exemplifies this:
"I don't want you to get caught."
Boyd scoffed. "Something tells me you're not worried about me."
"I'm not."
"Well, thanks."
"I'm worried," Gary went on, "about someone seeing you, and connecting you to the Lodge. You just used the hot springs as your personal landing strip, in broad daylight. We're on the upper half of the mountain. And I don't know how big your Sylvan form is, but -"
Boyd grinned. It looked more like a snarl. "Oh, plenty big enough," he said.
Gary ignored that. "Big enough for someone to see you from down the mountain?" he challenged. Boyd's lip curled, and he looked away. "Yeah, that's what I thought. I'm just thinking ahead. What if someone came beating down our door looking for you? What if it was a cryptid hunter? What if it was the cops?”
"Yes, yes, fine, alright," Boyd snapped. He threw his hands up. His eyes were hard and cold. "It'd put us in danger. I get it. But you're still here. I think the damage is already done."
A knot of cold rage formed in Gary's stomach. "I'm trying to keep this place safe, Mr. Mosche," he spat. "I've got a responsibility to keep."
Boyd scoffed. "Oh, you have a responsibility? To Amnesty Lodge? That's fucking rich."
"You've got one, too! It’s about time you started keeping it!"
They’re both very, very set in their ways and their ideologies, and they take a long time to get to middle ground. 
One of my friends described it as middle child syndrome in overdrive. Gary thinks Boyd’s the Lodge golden child, come to replace him in the Lodge inner circle. Boyd thinks Gary’s the Lodge’s new redemption-arc fixer-upper, come to replace him. And both of them feel thrown off by that, because they both thought that the Lodge was accepting them completely into the inner circle. It’s unfamiliar, it’s confusing, and when the Lodge as a whole regards them both with suspicion/unease (Gary) and polite detachment due to the passage of time (Boyd), it makes them both feel on the outside.
And when you’re in the same shitty canoe, you’ve gotta row it or sink. So that’s exactly what they do. 
Ultimately, they get faced down with bigger and worse foes that snap them out of their spat, because their common interest is “keeping the Lodge safe” and uniting will help them get there. When they do start to have each other’s backs, though, that’s when they reluctantly start to get to know each other. Gary feels like something’s off about Boyd and eventually suspects - thanks to some comments from Haynes and some digging of his own - that Boyd had something to do with the fire that burned down Aubrey’s house, but it remains to be seen what he’ll do with that information. (The Gary of November 2018 would have turned Boyd in to the FBI. The Gary of almost six months later, though… a different story. It’ll be interesting.)
The kicker is, they’re both really similar, at the heart of it. Both of them were the Lodge’s fix-em-up pet projects, brought into the fold in an emergency and protected/cared for as long as they swore to clean up their act. They see each other and feel a bit out-of-place, though - something contributed to by the way the Lodge treats them.
Gary’s still held at a distance by many, despite being Duck’s cousin and a mostly-valuable member of the team, because the stench of the FBI is still on him - how he dresses, how he walks and talks, how he acts. And Boyd has just swanned back to the Lodge after 20 years gone, with all his memories of the Lodge from back in ‘98 driven back into his mind - and part of him is expecting the Lodge to be the exact same way it was when he left. But it’s not. You can’t go home again. The Lodge has moved on without him, which he never expected, and coming back to them is… awkward.
It’s simple. They don’t know what to do with a version of Boyd who’s missed the past 20 years of their lives; Boyd doesn’t know what to do with people who have changed from the folks he knew 20 years ago. He’s lost, floating, and alienated, like going to a high school reunion after not having spoken to a living soul since graduation. It sucks for him. And the only wholly unfamiliar face there, other than the main Pine Guard - who he’s mostly fine with, except for Ned - is Gary, and he can’t help but be irritated with him. That changes, though.
What I essentially want to do is set these versions of the characters up as foils. Similar characters, similar pasts, similar situations that got them to this point. All that’s different is how far in their respective arcs they are. So I’m going to have them be friends. Give each other a chance in the face of a bigger threat, open up a little more, have conversations, talk about things with each other because they’re the only ones around to listen. The Lodge gave them second chances when they needed them most. Maybe they can do that for each other.
This is also to say, I would be a massive fucking liar if I say I haven’t considered having that unfold into a rivals-to-lovers arc. Yeah, I said it. I’ve considered it, at length and in serious detail, since I started drafting the arcs for TCOS. In fact, that’s what I’m probably going to do. I’ve gotten too hooked by the possibility to give it up. I outlined hypothetical futures for the whole cast after the final battle in Sylvain and, given the things I want to happen in that battle and the messy post-war fallout, it makes sense that these two would gravitate towards each other.
It makes a lot more sense in context, believe me. They’ve got a long row to hoe before they trust each other enough to become friends, or even push the envelope towards a romantic relationship - they’d have months and even YEARS to wait to pull that off. Whatever I end up doing with them, they are easily my favorite part of TCOS to unravel, mostly because I  - and, honestly, everyone else - probably never saw it coming.
Thanks for the ask, anon. This made my week. So sorry for the long response, but I have so many thoughts on what I’m doing with these idiots, and putting them down on paper was really fun. Any other questions or comments about this? Fire away, I’d be more than willing to answer! 
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luobingmeis · 5 years
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a lot of people hear the announcement “ned” made in a lot of different ways.
the sylphs of amnesty lodge see it while they’re sitting in the lobby of amnesty lodge, because where else would be safe for them? they all realize that the answer might be no where as, with a dawning horror, they watch ned chicane reveal the archway to anyone who was watching live, and to anyone who would be watching the re-run later. barclay watches, and something in the back of his head says he should have expected this. “god, i hope you can keep a secret,” can only go so far, after all. dani cries, and it shocks her first before anyone else. “i fear war,” she had told aubrey and, to ned, “you didn’t mention... me, right?” she watches, and she cries, because she feels like the catalyst of this mess, and, please, she prays to whatever is listening, let no one believe him. they all know that won’t be the case.
mama watches from her office. the news had been on just by chance. it was the only thing distracting her from the laptop still being missing, and the fact that that situation has “ned fucking chicane” written all over it. she had been about to turn the TV off, she had better things to do, after all- until she saw the man himself on live television. and, with her jaw dropping open, mama watches as ned reveals the truth, as ned reveals the archway to every single soul in kepler. she sees people storming the lodge, storming the clearing, storming sylvain, and she sees war and blood and the revival of a fatal situation that she has been trying to tame for years. “why can’t we?” ned had asked when they agreed to not tell anyone. good for you, she thinks bitterly, finally doing something on your own, ned fucking chicane. mama, unbeknownst to the empty safe beneath her floor boards, slams her fist on her desk before storming into the lodge’s lobby.
aubrey doesn’t see the report, but she doesn’t have to. gripping the flamebright pendant in her hand, the smell of smoke from years ago choking her, she already knows enough.
hollis watches from the backmost booth in another rundown bar. not the little dipper, as hollis figured that there was no use heading there again. the police tape still wrapped around caused too many issues. they arch an eyebrow as they see ned chicane show up on sceen. “well, today, i’m here to tell you the truth,” he says, and hollis smirks. they had a feeling ned would be the one on their side. he seemed ready to confess hours ago, hollis just wonders what it took for him to get in front of a camera. freedom, they think, finally not being followed around by those two other hunters. hollis uses the term loosely, disdainfully. they stir their drink with their finger and huff, shaking their head. an archway, they hear. half a mile from amnesty lodge. their stirring stills, and they begin to plan.
sheriff owens watches from the couch of his living room while his son, calvin, does homework at the dining room table. if it had been any other day, he would have turned off his TV at seeing ned fucking chicane’s face. “i’ve got no time for that saturday night dead bullshit,” he would have said. instead, sheriff owens raises the volume. he hears ned chicane confirm what he has been trying to wrap his head around for hours: monsters are real, and they’re in kepler. in the kitchen, the sound of calvin’s pen scratching against paper goes silent. “holy shit,” the sheriff says, shaking his head, “he really fucking did it.” he’s grabbing his hat and keys before the program is even over. he said before that he has some things he needs to sort out, but now it seems like he doesn’t have a lot of time left for that anymore.
duck newton doesn’t get to watch the program, but he hears about it on the radio as he drives back into kepler. he damn well almost crashes the car is what he does. he realizes, with a pit of dread forming in his stomach, that even the best can’t lie their way out of this anymore. “fuck,” he says. “fuck, shit, goddamit, fucking hell ned.” he speeds back into kepler without having much of a plan, only wishing to get back before the town is burnt to the ground in a monster hunt. “duck newton,” beacon says, and its voice makes duck’s skin crawl, “seems like you might have to step up as a hero again after all. how unfortunate.” yeah, duck agrees, how fucking unfortunate.
indrid cold sees it, but sees it too late. his visions come with little time in between, and he saw ned, the fake one, making his announcement as the director was counting down to action. though, he sees the aftermath, he sees many aftermaths, and, across the country, indrid cold begins his race back to kepler.
ned chicane, the real one, watches in a hotel room with boyd mosche’s corpse only mere feet from him. he watches himself speak, his missing scarf wrapped around his neck, and he watches. and he keeps watching until the program ends, and then into the commercial break, and then into the next program. his mind tells him to run, to do what he has done time and time before, but, for once, ned chicane doesn’t know where to run to. what good is running now, when something with his face can just keep him in kepler for as long as it wants? he stays standing and keeps watching for what feels like days, though the analog clock on the dresser says it has only been ten minutes. he stays standing and keeps watching because, for the first time in a very long time, he has no escape plan and, instead, all he has left to do is just watch the world burn around him because of... is it because of him? he wants to say no but, watching the re-run of his community announcement, he can’t help but feel like all blame comes down to him, the real ned fucking chicane.
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im not very good at thinking up specific requests but something Boyd Mosche and hope, and a motel
Sorry this took so long, I got really depressed and lost motivation to write hahaha. I hope you enjoy it.
Boyd sat down on the motel bed. It creaked loudly, and he grimaced. It wasn’t the nicest motel he’d ever stayed at, but he hadn’t expected anything better from this shithole of a town. He didn’t want to be here for much longer, but Ned wasn’t exactly cooperating. 
He pulled the fob out of his pocket, rolling it over in his hand. He thought about all the useless trinkets that Ned had collected. He wondered why he kept them. They all reminded Boyd of their past heists when he was stealing them away. The memories left a bitter taste in his mouth. Everything with Ned made him feel bitter. All the years they had spent together were soured by Ned’s betrayal. Boyd didn’t know what he expected. Ned had never indicated that he would be loyal to him, but after they had been together for as long as they were, Boyd had hoped for more. 
He shoved the fob back into his pocket and laid down on the bed. He stared at the popcorn ceiling and wondered how his life had led him to this place. He needed to get out of this country, go back home. He needed to get his hands on Shade Tree. He didn’t know why he was getting Ned to steal it for him. He could have done it himself, but part of him wanted Ned to make up for what he had done. 
He was losing his patience, though. It had been at least a month since he had spoken to Ned. He had lingered outside of Ned’s tacky tourist trap a couple of times, standing where he knew Ned would see him, but hadn’t done much else. He was starting to think that maybe he was going to have to be more forceful. Part of him wanted to.
There was a knock on his door. Boyd straightened out and hopped off of the bed. He smoothed out the ruffles in his clothes and opened the door.Ned was standing there, holding a bag in his hands.
“Took you long enough,” Boyd said.
Ned gave Boyd a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I was held up.”
“Whatever,” Boyd said.
Ned rolled his eyes, “You’ve always been impatient.” He brought his hand up and coughed loudly. He quickly withdrew it, but not fast enough for Boyd to not see the blood on it.
Boyd furrowed his brows at Ned. “Are you alright?”
“I’ve never been better,” Ned replied. “Now, just give me my stuff back and you can have Shade Tree.”
“Alright,” Boyd said. “Come in.”
He pushed the door open so Ned could enter. He finally felt relief  in the knowledge that he was finally going to be able to go home.
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Moschicane week: Protect/Defend Fix it
Word count: 1315
“So.” Ned flinched at the sound. It had been silent in the car for the past three hours as they sped away from the large house and the police cars that were no doubt sweeping the area. The silence had been tense, but Ned could tell that that talking was going to be worse. “Do you want to explain to me what the Hell happened back there?”
“Well,” Ned began, knowing that he was turning this into a fight and that he would probably regret it, “for one thing, the house wasn’t quite as empty as you promised it would be. So that’s sort of the root of the problem, I think.” Ned was staring straight ahead, but he didn't need to be looking at Boyd to tell when he was getting angry. The car sped up dangerously.
“Is it, then? Because I seem to recall that we’ve done jobs, before, where there were people in the building. Those jobs all went fine. Let me try to think about what was different … Oh, you know, here’s something. We both managed to stay fucking quiet on those jobs.”
“Look, I was being as quiet as anything when the father came down. And he was surprised to see me. So I’m pretty sure he didn’t hear anything, and he just happened to come downstairs, because people sometimes do that in their own homes. I mean, Hell, Boyd, this isn’t exactly a museum where we can time the guard’s route.”
“No, you know what, Ned, you’re probably right. It was an unfortunate accident that the father came down when he did. What wasn’t an accident was that you started talking to him instead of immediately shutting him up. Unless you think it was pure coincidence that the daughter also happened to wake up and come downstairs at that exact moment?”
“Shut him … No, I don’t think it was a coincidence. But shut him up how, Boyd? By giving him a concussion like you did? By doing … whatever you were planning to do to the daughter? You know I’m not a violent person, and that I don’t approve of violence in general.”
“Oh, I’m well aware,” Boyd said sharply.
“Well then,” Ned continued, matching Boyd’s tone, “you should have known that the job was over as soon as I was seen. There was no good ending after that. And yet, you were determined to keep going. If we’d just left, then and there, the girl would have never even seen us.”
“And what of the father, Ned? What, exactly, should I have done differently?” Ned muttered something under his breath. Boyd said, “what was that, love?” but his tone was not particularly loving.
“I said, I don’t know!” Ned realized he was shouting and sighed. More quietly, he said, “look, I fucked up. I think we both fucked up. We should have checked the house was empty, I shouldn’t have made so much noise, and you should have agreed to leave as soon as things went south, instead of waiting until the girl was halfway to the phone.” Boyd suddenly turned a corner at eighty miles an hour, throwing Ned against the passenger door in the process.
“She wouldn’t have gotten to the fucking phone if you’d let me deal with her!” Ned was in no mood to be intimidated, and he wasted no time in raising his voice to match Boyd’s.
“Deal with her, how, Boyd? By killing her?”
Boyd’s quiet gasp was almost inaudible over the roaring engine, which was roaring less and less by the second. The car was slowing down, and Ned realized that he’d been gripping the sides of his seat. With some effort, he let go. Then he looked directly at Boyd for the first time since they’d left the house. He seemed … scared? When the car was a little below the speed limit, Boyd turned to meet Ned’s gaze. It took him a few seconds to speak, and when he did, it was in a quiet, cautious voice that Ned could barely remember hearing before.
“You didn’t … you didn’t really think I would kill her, did you?” Boyd looked so vulnerable, Ned just wanted to tell him, no, of course not, you could never. But he remembered the way Boyd had looked in the house and shook his head.
“I thought that you’d do anything, Boyd. Whatever it took.” Boyd’s eyes widened. “You’ve been getting …” More reckless? More violent? More frightening? “... worse lately. Sometimes it’s like …” Boyd’s expression was too much. Ned turned to look out the passenger window. “Sometimes it’s like I don’t know you anymore. And I have no idea what you’re capable of.”
Boyd didn’t respond for a while. Ned could hear him taking deep, regular breaths, and he wondered whether he was trying to keep himself from crying. He’d never seen Boyd cry before. Finally, Boyd said,
“I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel that way. And I wish I could say that it was just a misunderstanding. But you’re right; I’m getting worse.” Ned closed his eyes. They needed to have this conversation, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “I don’t know what I was going to do. I don’t know how far I would go, if pushed. I’m not … I’m not sure I know myself anymore, either.”
Ned was holding back tears, himself, now. He knew what he had to say, but he was afraid. Because what if this was it? Despite everything, Ned loved Boyd, and he didn’t want to leave. But after this, he might have to.
“That’s not enough, Boyd. Admitting you have a problem is the first step, but it’s not enough for me. I need to know that you’re going to change. Not just try, but actually change. I can’t … I can’t keep doing this with someone who doesn’t know whether or not they would kill someone. I can’t be a part of that.”
“No,” Boyd said quickly, “of course not. I wouldn’t want you to, Ned. I would never forgive myself if I dragged you into … You’re too good. God, Ned, you’re so, so good. You’re the best thing in my life. I don’t deserve you, and you definitely deserve someone better than me.” Ned squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, but it didn’t stop the tears from escaping.
Then Boyd chuckled softly. Ned turned to look at him, confused. He looked tired and hurt, but there was a small smile playing on his lips.
“But I’m selfish - I don’t want you to be with anyone else. So I guess I’ll have to become someone better, eh?” Ned couldn’t stop himself from smiling, but he quickly reigned his expression back in.
“I know,” Boyd said, preempting him. “I know you need more than words. I’m not going to promise you anything because a promise means fuck all if it isn’t followed by actions. Just give me time, ok? I’ll prove that I’m serious. I’ll be better. Please.” Boyd wasn’t smiling anymore. He looked afraid again. “Please, Ned. I love you. Please give me another chance.” Ned sighed.
“One chance.” Boyd beamed. “I’m serious, Boyd. If you hurt anyone, that’s it. From now on, we only take safe jobs, and if something does happen, we run. No fighting. No victims.” Boyd nodded solemnly.
“No victims,” he repeated. “Never again.” Of course, Boyd had said it himself; a promise was nothing. Ned was hopeful but cautious. He would have to wait and see what happened. “I love you, Ned. I love you too much to let you go.” Despite himself, Ned smiled. It was so hard, right now, to remember how he had felt before. The man sitting next to him was Boyd, his Boyd. His partner. And he didn’t want to go anywhere.
“I love you, too, Boyd.”
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tinydemondragon · 5 years
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This came from a random hc about moschicane cuddling in the moschicane server and Fae asked me to post it so here we are!! (just did a quick word count check and this thing is 1.5k holy crap)
The first time, it's an accident. 
They're on the run and need to dip into a hotel room. It's easier to get away with a single, if someone is looking for two people. They stay up late, later than, perhaps, they should. Breaths held, adrenaline shooting their heart rates up. 
After a while, it becomes obvious that no one is going to be there and they laugh at another job done, another close call. They try to decide who's going to take the bed, but it's late. And it doesn't really matter, does it? They've fucked before, in that post heist success, no strings attached kind of way. Sure, they always went to separate beds afterward, if they even made it to one in the first place. But, this shouldn't be that different, right?
So they settle in, stiffly at first before laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Ned's being dramatic, flopping on Boyd, draping himself over him. But they're tired, and eventually they fall asleep. Separated, distance between them that they're sure that they can maintain. But. 
It's morning the next day. Afternoon, really, and Ned wakes up first. It's dark and he feels trapped and he panics a bit, hearth thundering in his chest. But then, he realizes he recognizes that scent, knows what it's like to be trapped by those arms and he relaxes again. 
Then he starts panicking for another reason. They're fuck buddies, partners in crime and in bed, but they aren't partners in the romantic sense. Ned doesn't know how to risk it, how to be anything more, it terrifies him. It doesn't matter how much he wants it, the heart of the matter is he's scared. He contented himself with post heist laughs and fucks, and was so so desperate to keep that line firm, to not put his heart in danger like that. But. This is. Nice.
Perhaps, just this once, he can let the lines blur a little more, perhaps he can let this happen. Just this once
Ned falls back asleep, resolute in his thought that this would be the one time he'd let this happen. Boyd though, Boyd wakes up after Ned goes to sleep and his heart aches. 
He knows what he wants. He's a greedy man, he knows this. He wants and wants and wants. Money, food, treasure. More than all that, though, he wants this. Ned at his side, be it in a mansion they're raiding, or in his bed, fucking him hard and fast and dirty, in an alley after they've celebrated a job well done and can't wait to get to the shitty motel of the week. 
More than that, though, he wants to hold Ned close, to love him and protect him and be with him. He thinks that, maybe, if he could just have this man next to him, if he could just have him and be had by him, he could content himself with that.
He thinks he could put all this aside, all the danger and the thrill of a heist, all of it could be put aside if it's what Ned wanted. If he was who Ned wanted.
But, he isn't. This isn't a story, and he doesn't get a happy ending. He doesn't get the prince, he's the dragon that keeps him locked in the tower (no matter that it's only because the price doesn't want to leave, that the prince is more happy in the company of dragons than he is of men. He doesn't know this, how could he when the prince never says so?). 
Maybe he shouldn't do this to himself. It's only going to hurt later, when Ned wakes up and laughs it off and never lets it happen again. But, he can't help himself, and so he lays there, arms wrapped around Ned's waist, holding him close and indulging in fantasies best kept quiet, until Ned starts to stir. Then, he slides his arms out from around him, and gets up, and pretends that this hadn't happened, that he hadn't had everything he's ever wanted in his hands.
And when Ned asks him what’s for lunch, he smiles and says whatever he wants, knowing that at least he's lucky enough to have this. Even if it's not everything, it's more than he thought he would have, and it has to be enough. If it isn't, well, the heists are fun too.
it's been months, now, since the first incident. They've had to share a bed twice now, and each time, Boyd has awoken first and disentangled himself. He's always been the one who was holding Ned, and getting out of the situation without waking Ned is difficult each time.
Still, a part of him is soothed by the fact that he can even do it in the first place. When they were just starting out, Boyd even getting up out of bed from the other side of the room would wake Ned up. Now, they are far more comfortable with each other.
(That is, perhaps, something that isn't good. One day, someone is going to break in and well, that's a story for another day.)
This time, however, things are different. One) Boyd's head is on Ned's stomach, Ned's arms around him. Second, Boyd remembers that they had had sex the night before, and both are (surprisingly) naked, so Boyd can feel, skin to skin, everywhere they are touching. Thirdly, and most surprisingly, Ned is awake.
Ned is awake and stroking Boyd's head in very soothing motions.
Boyd freezes. This is... new. He doesn't know what to do about this, exactly. They've not done this before.
"Good morning," Ned rumbles, voice still heavy with sleep.
"Good morning," Boyd returns. And that's that.
They don't talk about it. For months, the subject is never brought up. Instead, they fall into bed together, more and more often, and now it occurs even when they don't have sex. They can be on the couch, watching tv, relaxing between jobs, sharing a blanket, one arm draped behind the other, curled up together. This is their new normal now. They don't talk about it.
Until they do
It's been about eight months since the first incident, five since it became a regular occurrence. It's in those sleepy hours, where maybe it's one day, or maybe it's the other. Time is blurred and undefined, and all that exists is this moment. They're not doing anything, not really. Ned is laying on Boyd's stomach, and they're reading a book together. Boyd suspects that Ned isn't really reading, but that's neither here nor there. 
"This is nice," Ned starts, soft and unsure, so unlike himself. Boyd blinks.
"Yes, it is," he agrees. He continues flipping pages, but he's not really paying attention to the words on the page, not anymore. His mind is alive with questions, with possibilities. Why would Ned say that?
He had said it in his quiet voice too. The one he uses when something really matters to him, but he's afraid, because it means too much for him to spoil by speaking it aloud, as though speaking it into existence would shatter it. 
"I love you," Ned blurts, and Boyd drops his book. It's unfortunate that it's a hardback, even more so since it lands on Ned's side with a thud. Ned winces, more out of reflex than actual pain, and keeps his head down, eyes not meeting Boyd’s.
Things are quiet for a few moments as Boyd processes. That didn't happen. Yes it did. Does Ned love me? He did say it, is he lying? No he wasn't using his lying voice. What is going on.
After a minute, Boyd realizes he hasn't answered yet, and that Ned is starting to slip from his arms. "Stay, please," Boyd says, wrapping his arms around him, glad that the book had slid to the floor after it fell on Ned. "Why?" Boyd asks, knowing it't not the right time to ask, but needing to know anyway.
"Because," Ned says, but he trails off, shrugging his shoulders. "This is nice," he repeats again. And it's not an answer, not really, but Boyd still understands, and he knows it's enough of an answer for now.
"I love you, too," Boyd answers, tightening his arms around Ned. And it's not everything, not yet. They're still on the run, still have things they have to answer, still are stuck in a life on the run where funds and always fluctuating. But they have this, they have each other and, for now, it's enough.
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ppbpencilcrayon · 5 years
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Amnesty Sylvain Theory(?)
Ok so I was relistening to some amnesty episodes, (mostly 28 and 32 because I love making myself cry apparently) and I had some thoughts. I dont event know if the information I'm basing this theory off of is even 100% accurate but I'm gonna try to make this as understandable as possible because it's just gonna be me rambling for a couple paragraphs. I'm on mobile rn so I don't think I can put a keep reading thing so sorry, this is gonna get long.
Oh yeah and spoilers for up to episode 32
So here's what we know so far and I apologize if I'm getting some of these wrong.
Sylvain, the entity, is missing
Aubrey can hear the thoughts and memories of Sylvain's Interpreter who I cant remember the name of at the moment
Sylvain is missing because a while back some humans went to Sylvain and broke off pieces of the crystal
Aubrey can interact with the crystal, but instead of giving her energy like it does to other Sylvans, (is that the term? Or is it silphs? I cant remember) she gives energy to the crystal
The Flamebright Pendant has been passed down throughout Aubrey's family and is made of the Sylvain Crystal
Aubrey thinks her powers were what caused the fire the night Ned and Boyd robbed her house
Aubrey met Magic when she was trying to revive Deputy Dewey
Dani told Aubrey that recently she realized that she felt at home when she was with Aubrey
Naturally when given this information, some people have come to the conclusion "oh, Aubrey might be Sylvain" but I don't think that's the case. I'm gonna try and go over my thoughts on that and try to be coherent because my thoughts are very scattered as I type this. One big thing that I keep going back and forth on is how Dani told Aubrey that she felt like home. And she even specifies, not sentimentally, literally. There's probably a good couple of ways you could interpret that, but the way I've seen people interpret it as is "Subconsciously, you remind me of Sylvain". But that also doesn't make sense. When Dani is expressing her worries about which side of the gate to land on, she mentions that part of the reason she was having such a hard time with that decision was that Sylvain no longer felt like home.
But here's where my little theory(?) (and I put a question mark with that bc honestly I'm still not sure about it) comes in. What if Sylvain is in the Flamebright Pendant?
Ok, yes, I know, it's a bit of a reach bc for most of amnesty the flamebright pendant has been locked in the back room of the cryptonomica, but hear me out. (I would like to emphasize, there's a whole bunch of connections I'm just kind of bullshitting with no data to draw from so you might want to take this with a grain of salt)
My main reasoning is that if memory serves, Sylvain went missing the day the crystal got broken, so who's to say that she(?) didn't get trapped in one of the shards? And that shard hadn't just been providing the Little Family some luck, but also a little bit of magic that got passed whenever a family member passed the pendant down to their descendant? That could be why Aubrey's powers manifested that night specifically, not just the danger, but because her mother gave her the pendant. She wasnt wearing it, but maybe all it took was Mrs. Little vocalizing that, yes Aubrey was the next owner of the pendant. Then even after Ned took the pendant, that magic was still fairly linked to Aubrey, just not as strong.
The real question is, why would Aubrey's magic suddenly reactivate again at some random magic show? Mama. Mama, who is constantly working with the former inhabitants of Silvain. Mama, who has probably been to Sylvain multiple times. Whatever piece of sylvain is connected to Aubrey might be able to sense that? So her magic sparks again and she's brought back to Amnesty Lodge where there's even more Sylvain energy because not only is the gate right there, but Aubrey, without even realizing it, is closer to the pendant than she has been in years. So now that the connection between Aubrey and Sylvain is stronger than, probably ever, she's now starting to get more access, more control, over her powers.
Why does Aubrey have access to Alexandra's(?) memories? Maybe because they both have fairly strong connections to Sylvain, they have some amount of connection with eachother by association? (Another interpretation could also be Alexandra is Sylvain and Aubrey is the new interpreter?)
With the crystal stuff, I feel like maybe Aubrey is drawing her powers directly from Sylvain? And while the crystal is the battery, Sylvain is the energy source. The crystal only has so much energy to give out before it's drained, but Sylvain was its constant source. So that could explain why instead of giving energy, the crystal takes from Aubrey. (Of course this could be the crystal's reaction to all humans, we just dont know since Aubrey is the only one we've seen touch the crystal so far).
And finally, when Dani tells Aubrey she literally feels like home. I know what I already said but there's something else I didn't mention. The thing that Silvain provides that all of its inhabitants require to stay sane. Everywhere Dani has been, everywhere she has called home, as had that one specific similarity. It had to, or else all of the sylphs stuck on earth would have long gone feral. Whatever energy is given by the crystal and the springs by Amnesty Lodge. Dani also mentioned it was a recent thing. Aubrey getting her pendant back was also a relatively recent thing.
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(Also I feel like they're gonna find some way to bring Sylvain back bc it would make sense that the big loose end of "where the hell did Sylvain go" is something that got tied up at the end and this seems like a good way to do it)
Congrats you've finally made it to the end of this absurdly long post. Next time I go on desktop I'll edit this and add that keep reading option.
TLDR:
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jupiterjunebug · 5 years
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@gaytaako here it is, the literal first time I’ve written Moschicane. I hope I don’t disappoint the Master of the Ship (you).
Ned liked to think that, on any given day, he gave off the impression of being pretty good at crime. Sometimes, he thought he might’ve managed it. He did drive a pretty cool car, after all, and that wasn’t the sort of thing incompetent criminals did.
Unfortunately, being a pretty good criminal kind of implied base level competency at, say, hand-eye coordination. Which, well. He’d kind of fucked up at about the same time he gave the guy walking by the volleyball court a concussion. Or, given his upper body strength and general competence at sports, probably “tapped the guy walking by the volleyball court on the head a little bit.”
Which meant that when the guy collapsed dramatically to the ground, Ned was pretty sure he’d found a man after his own heart.
“Are you alright?” Ned asked, jogging over with a look of maybe-exaggerated worry on his face. If it turned out this guy was actually injured, he’d let it leak over into actual worry. Maybe. Depending on how injured.
“Yeah,” the man said, all smooth and some kind of English. He smiled, grinned, showing off one gold canine and several other slightly crooked teeth. There was pain there. Just the right amount of pain for some poor asshole to pity him. “Just caught me off guard is all.”
Yep, Ned recognized something in that smile. Most definitely a man after his own heart.
“Sorry about that,” Ned said, just as sincerely as Mr. Tall Strong and Charming. “I get a little excited when I play volleyball. They call me Robert ‘Spike’ Blithe for a reason after all.”
The man sat there for a moment, face blank, and Ned took a moment to feel satisfied that he’d thrown this guy’s plan to do…whatever it was he was aiming to do for a loop. Then, the guy’s eyes flashed with the kind of satisfaction Ned knew came from finding someone up to the same kind of no good as him.
“No they don’t,” the guy said, voice low enough for the conversation to be between just the two of them.
“No, they don’t,” Ned agreed. “But I don’t give out my real name until the third date.”
The guy laughed, sharp and the kind of charming Ned had to try hard to be.
“Well, mine’s Boyd,” the guy said, flashing his gold teeth in another smile. “Since you’re saving your real name for the third date, figure I might as well save the last one.”
The laugh Ned gave at that wasn’t even fake. Ned was pretty sure that meant he was losing the battle of wills that may or may not have been occurring.
“Well, Boyd, sorry for any serious injury I may have done to your person.”
“I’m sure you can make it up to me,” Boyd said, grin growing sharper. “Say, who’s your mark here?”
“My mark?” Ned said innocently. He knew Boyd could see through it, he knew Boyd knew that he knew Boyd could see through it.
“Come on, Robert. Bob. Do you mind if I call you Bob?” Boyd didn’t wait before continuing, “Bob, we both know what kind of men we are. And we both know why men like us lurk around places frequented by the rich and famous.”
Ned didn’t actually run into all that many other criminals. He had a feeling that he’d get sick of this sort of back and forth fast but, well. He had a type, and Boyd McWhateverHisLastNameWas checked off every single criteria on that list. So, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to play a little mental chess. Battle of the wills. Flirting. He’d figure out what this was later.
In the meantime, Ned leaned forward, examining the spot where he’d nailed Boyd with the volleyball. Best to keep up the appearances.
“Actually, I’d intended to go to the normal beach. Catch some waves, soak up some waves, you know, that whole thing. But hey, I wasn’t gonna say no to playing on a volleyball team with somebody that’s probably got a couple thousand dollars worth of stuff in their gym bag.”
Specifically that necklace that the player in…whatever the Hell the front left position was had taken upon quitting her job as Ann Hathaway’s PA, and then bragged about it to their friends in a place that all kinds of opportunistic bastards could overhear.
“That’s very reasonable of you. So, which bag are you calling?”
“Red bag, my team, off to the left.”
“Oh, good. I was worried you’d want the absolutely hideous snakeskin purse on the other side. That would be terribly awkward.”
Yes, yes it would. Ned could probably have made it work, but it would’ve been an extra pain in his ass, and he’d had to deal with too many of those in the past week.
“So, if you were to, say, get an opportunity to be close to said purse, you’d be satisfied getting me an opportunity to be close to that red bag I’ve found myself…drawn to?”
Boyd tilted his head in what might have been agreement. Ned held out a hand, and he took it, squeezing just a little too hard. Ned didn’t wince, because he still had a first impression to make. First impressions were important in Ned’s line of work, on account of if all went well the first time he met someone tended to be the last time as well.
Ned sort of hoped he’d have time to make a second or third one as well, in this case.
“Say,” Ned said, loudly enough for the schmucks on his team to hear, “let me make it up to you. How about you join our team, and you can have the satisfaction of absolutely obliterating your foes at volleyball?”
Someone on the other team voiced an objection, half-jokingly. Like he was a good friend, and not a stranger they’d met less than half a year ago. The whole lot of them were just a little tipsy; tipsy enough to forget how well they knew or didn’t know a person, but not drunk enough for them to start questioning the meaning of life and therefore how well they knew or didn’t know a person.
“Well,” Boyd said, a spark of something in his eyes, “obliterating my foes does sound rather good, right now.” He got just a little closer to Ned, and Ned tried to pretend this didn’t affect him. “Unfortunately for you,” Boyd continued, danger threading into his voice, “you’re the only foe I see here.”
He sauntered past Ned toward the other side of the court. His new team cheered.
Ned let out a shaky breath and smiled. Oh, this was going to be a good day.
Ned’s team scored two more points before he decided to enact phase two of his plan. As he hit the ball directly toward Boyd’s head, it occurred to him that they hadn’t actually discussed this plan, and Boyd was jacked enough to absolutely destroy him if he decided not to play along.
Once again, Boyd fell back onto the sand with a lot more drama than was necessary. His teammates crowded around him, one of them jeering in Ned’s direction. Ned smiled sheepishly, hoping he wasn’t about to die. Dying wasn’t on his agenda for the day.
Boyd stood, brushing himself off and snarling at Ned. Ned took a step back, fear only half fake as Boyd grabbed onto the collar of the tacky Hawaiian shirt Ned had thrown on as part of his cover. Boyd leaned in close again, and Ned could smell tic-tacs on his breath.
“Only kind of sorry about this, mate,” Boyd whispered, then pulled back his fist and clocked Ned across the jaw. Ned thought he did a good job of out-dramaing Boyd, flopping down and clutching his face like this was the first time he’d ever been punched. Ned’s team let out a series of hey, not fairs and I’m not gonna play against a guy like thats. Boyd threw up his hands and stalked over to the sidelines, coincidentally next to where his team kept their bags. Ned stumbled over to his own side, rubbing his jaw until the game started up again.
Then he reached over and carefully unzipped the bag, sliding out his prize as the owner of the bag scored a point. Ned slid the necklace into the pocket on the chest of his shirt. Then he looked up at Boyd, just in time for Boyd to shut the purse and look up at Ned. Ned winked. Boyd gave a small mock bow. They both went back to watching the game.
When the festivities were over, Ned wandered away and checked his pocket. The necklace was still there. So was a slip of paper with an unfamiliar phone number. Ned grinned. Maybe he’d end up telling Boyd his real name, after all.
Or, well. He’d tell Boyd his name was Ned Chicane. 
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transagentstern · 5 years
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moschicane: 6 or 47 and danbrey: 84 or 33
47.  you’re my ex who I’ve never really gotten over and you just surprised me by paying for my coffee and I’m not prepared to see you
I’ll hit you with that Danbrey later
Ned never claimed to be a mature or reasonable adult.
He didn’t, and he’d maintain that, and anything he may have boasted to Kirby about being a ‘real adult’ had spontaneously slipped from his memory right around the time that Boyd fucking Mosche slid up to the register to pay for his coffee.
And Boyd was just as gorgeous as ever, smiling, with that look in his eye he got when he was about to ask for something big and majorly illegal and Ned was not in a good mental place to handle this right now, he’d argue that in court, he was traumatized by how pretty Boyd fucking Mosche’s smile was. The way Boyd tipped his head had to be illegal somewhere. It seemed like it could have important political consequences. Boyd could convince an anarchist to join the FBI. Boyd could charm a hippie into joining the war effort.
Anyway, that was why Ned dumped his coffee down the front of Boyd’s shirt.
He was maintaining that.
Boyd didn’t even look terribly angry, just kind of disappointed.
“Really, love?”
Ned frowned down at the empty cup.
“Yeah that wasn’t nearly as satisfying as I hoped it would be. Mind buying me another one?”
“Are you going to pour it on me?”
Ned grinned, almost annoyed at how easy it was to fall into the old rapport with Boyd.
“I haven’t decided yet. Gotta keep you on your toes.”
“Fair enough.”
Boyd turned back to the totally baffled cashier.
“One more coffee, please. Milk and sugar. A truly unbelievable amount of sugar. However much sugar you think he needs, and then twice that.”
Ned snorted, but when the cashier looked over at him, he just smiled and tried not to look like he was contemplating homicide or public indecency. Ned had a list of things he’d like to do to Boyd that was about a mile long, and most the points were illegal for a wide variety of different reasons.
Whatever expression he made must have been halfway convincing, because the cashier gave him an uncertain smile and said- “Oh-okay.”
Boyd turned back to Ned, still smiling.
“How have you been?”
Ned tried to look aloof.
“Oh, I’ve been well. Out of the game, you know. I run a small…..museum.”
“Uh-huh.”
“A repository for the arcane. A phylactery, if you will.”
Boyd was trying not to laugh, Ned could give him that much credit.
He sighed.
“Alright fine it’s a tourist sellout shithole. I get by. How’ve you been?”
For the first time, Boyd’s smile cracks, and Ned gets a glimpse of agony underneath it before it smooths out again, and Ned can tell that Boyd’s about to lie, and he gives him a look that says don’t even try it.
Boyd actually smiles at that, his real one, and Ned wishes it didn’t still get him in the chest every time. Didn’t feel like the sun coming up. Damn him.
“Pretty shitty. Got arrested. Did some time. Missed you.”
Ned blinks- ignoring the last words for the sake of his sanity.
“You what? Thought you were better than that.”
Boyd snorts.“Well, maybe it was a little harder without my partner.”
Ned looks back at the coffee machine rather then looking at Boyd, ignores the holy-shit expression on the barista’s face (they’ve definitely heard everything. Ned can’t bring himself to care).
“So is that what you’re here for? In town to recruit me?”
Boyd grabbed him by the collar, pulling him around to look at him, and Ned heard the barista drop his drink.
Out of instinct, Ned leaned into the touch and put his hand over Boyd’s, making it seem like an affectionate gesture.
“Easy.” he hisses, and then winces. Okay maybe this was the wrong moment to use our goddamn safe word-
Boyd relaxes instantly, and Ned hates that that gets his heart all aflutter. His grip relaxes into something more affectionate.
“That’s not fair.” he says, mildly, and Ned’s not sure if he means the recruitment accusation or the safeword. Both, maybe.
He decides to respond to the one he could handle.
“Well what’re you here for, then? Don’t tell me you just happened to be in my remote little town, in the coffee shop I frequent, at exactly the time I come here every day.”
“I told you already.” Boyd lifts his hand to thumb Ned’s cheek, and his eyes seem to go from gray to blue, and damn him, damn him, damn him.
“I missed you.”
Ned swallows, nervously, but he manages his usual bluster when he speaks.
“And you’re broke and need a favor?”
Boyd sighs.
“And I’m broke and need a favor.”
“Still.” Ned manages, his heart trying to climb out of his throat. “Lots of people owe you favors. Guess I can still feel a little special.”
Boyd snorted.
“Is it so hard to believe that I missed the man I’ve been in love with for about half of my life?”
“Charmer.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
Ned sighed, taking the coffee from the hand of the poor barista who’d been holding it out, looking deeply conflicted about calling out and interrupting the conversation.
“Alright, I’ll bite.”
“I sure hope so.”
Ned gave him an unamused look, and Boyd snorted.
“Alright, love. Hit me. Metaphorically. You’ve already ruined my shirt.”
Ned ignored that, like an adult.
“I’ve got a TV show starting. Saturday Night Dead. I could use some help with production. You were always a pretty decent actor. Care to join me?”
Boyd grinned, and Ned was going to hit that like the fist of god the MINUTE they got back to the Cryptonomica.
“Always.”
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ghosty-schnibibit · 5 years
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LATE TAZ LIVEBLOG BUT HOLY SHIT I’M FREAKING OUT
fun fact, i listened to the first 15 minutes or so of the episode yesterday afternoon and then had to leave it there because my dad was picking me up to go home for the weekend and then taking me and my mom to go to the new norfolk ikea. i've managed to avoid spoilers but i did see one non-spolier  reaction from someone on my dash that was, quote-unquote, "I'M FUCKING SHAKING" so i'm still extremely nervous :)))
i know i say this literally every time but the description combined with the previously on has me so fuckin concerned
yay! my favorite son gets to go first! :D
“it's a cliffbar” ilu clint
clifford hanger
chomper fish
isn't there a map of kepler they're working off of?
10 miles is like a fifteen minute drive, pretty chill
oh great, can't wait to see how duck tries to explain this lmao
"i like this person immediately" me too trav me too
duck are you just assuming she knows you're a ranger or...?
b e a r a b o u t s
i fucking love you duck newton, holy shit
YEAH, GO DUCK! :D
"i can't either" poor griffin lmao
we are indeed! also wondering what happened to the whole heathcliff artifact gathering quest since there hasn’t been one this arc :P
"explain homestuck to me" JUSTIN ILU SO MUCH
i love these good brothers
god i love this woman, she has no name yet i love her so much
"i've got the only weapon i need... hidin' like a chicken shit" bless you duck newton 
1988... so thirty years before if this is still set in 2018? that’s definitely significant
oh damn, it does look really cool :o
some secure building then lmao
duck you don't need to keep up the bear lie oh my god
welp, we have our ren of the arc lol
aww duck my sweet stoner boy
"yes" trav ilu
abandoned buildings are super creepy and i love them
ilu clint omg
wainscoting??? oh its those line thingies, okay
i was gonna say, maybe use the magic thing 
wasn’t he the aliens guy?
aww, eugine is a sweety
"eugine's no narc" bless
clint is on his game this season and i love it
nice! good travis rolls
she has???
oh nooo, spooky dead boyd music :(
our lady of bank
WELL THAT'S NOT GOOD, THAT'S VERY NOT GOOD
another lovely middle name for ned
do not make this poor boy into another leon omg
dang, they’re having some great rolls today, this makes up for all the failures last week and then some
there are two different characters named dani??? fair enough considering there were like ten different jerry’s in balance 
i've missed griffin's johann voice lmao
not liking the fact that this confirms the idea that the abomination shifted into ned to kill boyd :)))
"kind of a rust" ...so another red robe
oh his name’s denny, okay
yup, that confirms it!
yay! happy birthday griffin :D
duck there is no need to lie here
hmmm... so whatever this beam is it came from the abomination then?
this character is so good, i've forgotten her name already but i love her
g o o g a b i t e s 
that's super fucking cool!!!
OH SHIT IT'S MINERVA
well that is very suspicious :/
aubrey you do not have a good track record for grabbing shit
"hard move time" YIKES
RUN AWAY AUBREY RUN AWAY
i have never heard detritus pronounced that way before omg
AUBREY'S GOING TO FUCKING DIE
THAT'S VERY VERY BAD, GRIFFIN DO NOT KILL MY GIRL PLEASE
NICE! :D
well this a fun mental image
... so it’s tracking the pine guard? this is bad
if it’s stolen stern’s files then it’s been inside the lodge... i have a feeling our suspicions that the dani ned ran into while stealing shade tree wasn’t the real dani might be correct 
aubrey you dipshit you are hurt, you are going to die if you don't get healed, don't take on this thing right now
AUBREY PLEASE DO NOT DIE
OH NO, BAD MUSIC, BAD BAD BAD, I AM INSTANTLY ANXIOUS
so it put all of ned's things back??? ... oh no, oooooh no
THIS ARC IS NOT GOING TO END WELL HOLY SHIT
i'm willing to bet those hand prints are going to match up to ned
"like a golden corral" brutal 
ned don't answer t- god dammit ned >:|
clint you are a national treasure
eww, eww eww eww :(
"we're not gonna go to fantasy costco, give him the $35 dollars!" bless you justin 
NED THERE IS A DEAD MAN YOU ARE AT RISK OF BEING FRAMED FOR MURDERING NOW IS NO TIME TO GOOF
BEGONE KNAVE
bless you for giving us ned's thought process there clint
OH NO, OH NO, THIS IS EXTREMELY BAD, NO NO NO
FUCK GRIFFIN THIS IS GOOD PRODUCTION VALUE BUT I'M SCARED AS SHIT RIGHT NOW
THE MUSIC IS SO GOOD BUT I AM FUCKING TERRIFIED BEYOND BELIEF, THIS IS SO BAD, THIS IS SO VERY BAD
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
GREAT GOOGLY MOOGLY IT'S ALL GONE TO SHIT
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cryptidjeepers · 5 years
Text
Aftermath (Ned Chicane fanfic)
After the Abomination’s announcement, Ned has a lot to think about. 
Genre: Angst
Wordcount: 1405
Characters: Ned Chicane + brief Pine Guard
Content Warnings: Brief panic attack (not graphic)
Aftermath
     Ned Chicane had messed up a lot in his life. He knew this. His biggest regret, of course, was the night he thought he left his partner and friend to die. Now, with the knowledge that he was indirectly responsible for the death of Aubrey's mother, that night held a lot more regret.
      Kepler was supposed to be different. Even if the Cryptonomica was in danger of closing every month, it was a good job. He made friends out of his colleagues and thought perhaps this time it would be better. There was a genuineness in his heart that he hadn't felt in ages. Despite his mistakes, he ventured to say that he was happy here. Fighting monsters wasn't ideal but knowing he had people that trusted him- That he trusted back- made a world of difference.
      But as Ned watched his doppelganger on that cursed hotel television, he felt his heart drop. In fact, his heart more than dropped; it stuttered uncomfortably in his chest. His heart pounded in his ears. The dim hotel room walls seemed to constrict and push against his skin. Distantly, Ned realized he was hyperventilating. In an effort to calm down, he stumbled back on the bed behind him.
      Through the fog in his mind, he hoped that his friends would believe him. He wanted to think that they wouldn't be angry when he told them the truth. Ned imagined himself walking through the doors of Amnesty Lodge and being embraced by his friends. Forgiveness abound, even if he didn’t deserve it.  Usually, Ned would never let himself believe his own lies. He had too much practice with that sort of thing. However, in that cold, dark hotel room, Ned allowed the fantasy of his friend's trust and love calm him down.
      With his mind semi-clear, Ned stood up and faced the body of his former partner. He had been through enough break-ins and robberies to know what this meant for him. When the manager came to clear Boyd out tomorrow morning, he'd find the body and call the police. They would search the hotel security feed and find Ned entering the room not once, but two separate times. Hotel cameras usually produce fuzzy, unclear images, but Ned had driven his car here. People had definitely seen him, and no number of blurry images could hide the fact that he had been the last to enter Boyd's room. Ned ‘Fuckin’’ Chicane was truly fucked.
      There wasn't much time then. The cops would come looking for Ned sooner rather than later, so he had to make himself scarce. Being the master criminal he was, Ned probably could've thought up multiple ways to get out of this particular situation, but there were more important things to him now than going back to jail.
      Ned exited the hotel room after checking quickly that the manager was nowhere to be seen. The Cryptonomica van parked in front of Boyd's hotel room was damning evidence against him but Ned didn’t care.
      When he was behind the wheel once again, the Abomination-Ned's words come back to him. Whoever this abomination was, he had it out for Ned. Ruining not only his friendships but potentially causing a war between Sylvain and Kepler. Ned should just skip town like he used to after his more disastrous grifts. The damage is probably done now and no amount of lying to himself will make him believe it will all turn out okay. But his friends deserved the truth even if it meant Hell for Ned, so he swallowed his pride and drove to Amnesty Lodge.
      The drive to the Lodge is quiet. Ned's heart stopped pounding and he could finally breathe normally again. He thought of all the things he could tell his friends that would make everything right. He practised his explanations and even prayed to whatever god was listening for just a little help. Aubrey deserved to know about the Flame Bright pendant and his hand in her mother's death. Barclay and Mama would get a sincere apology for all the shit he's caused them. He hadn't done anything to hurt Duck specifically (that he knew of), but he'd get an apology whether he liked it or not. All these scenarios played out in Ned's head as he pulled into the parking lot. He hoped they would hear him out, though he secretly knew there was a slim chance.
      Ned parked as far away from the door as he could. He was stalling and he knew it, so he used the extra time for deep breaths. They came out too ragged too quickly and he realized he hadn't been this nervous since his first B&E.
      The first person to spot him in the lobby is Dani. She's holding Dr. Harris Bonkers and looking worriedly in the direction of the cellar door. The lobby is filled with a few other Sylphs glaring daggers at him, but he chooses not to notice. Dani, on the other hand, rounded on him and effectively cut off his move towards to cellar. She pointed a single finger at him and yelled, “Ned ‘Discretion’ Chicane, what have you done?!” Ned froze.
      In all his time as a grifter, he never froze but being confronted by one of the few people that trusted him sent him back into a panic. “Dani, please. If you can find it in your heart to trust me one last time, please listen to me.” He meant for it to come off in his usual charming voice, instead he sounded high-pitched and scared. Something in Dani's eyes changed and she began to say something when the cellar door slammed open. Aubrey Little was the first to charge at him, followed by a confused looking Duck, and an angry Mama and Barclay. Everything Ned had prepared to say died in his throat.
      Aubrey grabbed him by the collar and yanked his face closer to her. There was fire in her eyes, almost literally. She dangled something red in front of his face and it took his eyes a second to understand what he was seeing. His blood ran cold. “Aubrey,” he squeaked. “You deserve an explanation-” Aubrey let go and pushed him away. She gritted out, “You were there, weren't you?” He nodded, not knowing what to say. His tongue felt as heavy as lead and when he wanted to talk all that came out was silence.
      Duck placed a hand on Aubrey's shoulder, “Uh, let's take this downstairs, yeah?” Aubrey shook his hand off and reared her own back. For a second, Ned thought his ass was about to get burned but the sudden pain in his nose told him he'd just been punched. His blood dripped to the floor and he didn't even bother to stop the flow. He just stood there watching Duck pull Aubrey back. Mama turned her back and walked down the cellar stairs. Barclay looked conflicted but followed Mama anyways.
      Ned's brow contorted in pain. He begged, “Will you let me explain, please?” Duck escorted Aubrey to the cellar door and turned his head towards him. “I think you've done enough,” he said firmly. The door closed with a bang.
      “You should go,” Dani whispered. Ned hadn't noticed she was still standing next to him. “Come back when they've calmed down. I promise they'll listen.” He recognized the pity in her eyes and frowned. He said, quietly, “Dani, this was my only chance to explain.” She shook her head and he pressed, “I'm not exaggerating-” He pressed his hand against his temple. “Listen, you are all about to hear a lot of bad shit about me. Just, one last time: can you trust me?” She nodded minutely, a frightened expression on her face. “Everything you're about to hear isn't true.” He paused and faced the front door. “Just know, I'm not a murderer.” With that, he walked out, ignoring Dani's confused replies.
      The walk to the van felt longer this time. It was late now and probably chilly, yet he couldn’t feel it. His legs moved numbly on their own accord and when he saw his own arm close the van door, all feeling returned at once. He felt the weight of the world on his shoulders and a crushing sense of dread in his heart. He slumped against the driver’s seat and for the first time in years, Ned Chicane honest to God cried.
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thiswasinevitableid · 5 years
Note
Indruck bartender ah prompt???????? Very good A++
Glad you liked it! I liked one of the other ones for them as a pair, so please enjoy this self-indulgent one-shot.
Prompt: you always bring your Tinder/Grindr dates to my bar and have sex in the bathroom and I really think you need to get better standards (spoiler: I’m not so upset when it’s us having sex in the bathroom)
Note: This is Not Suitable For your Workplace. Also, as a CW, Indrid has lots of casual sex that, we learn, started out as something he liked but that he may now be using as a less than ideal coping mechanism
It’s a busy Friday night at the bar; spring has come and folks are ready to be out and about. From his position as bartender (and owner), Duck sees many new faces mixed in with the old ones and smiles. The Beacon is his pride and joy, and he likes to see people enjoying themselves.
When he steps into the hallway leading to the bathrooms he hears a familiar voice under the music and crowd, one that tells him a certain regular is also enjoying himself.
“Oh yes, yes, more, please.” A lilting, begging voice comes from behind the wall. Yep, it’s Indrid alright.
Business as usual then.
The skinny, white-haired man started coming in two months ago. At first he just sat at the bar, ordered the sweetest thing on the menu, and chatted with Duck. After a few weeks, he started bringing in a new date every night, usually two or three times a week. These dates (a term Duck uses loosely)  follow the same pattern: Indrid and the guy arrive, make small talk at the bar while they have a drink (also a term Duck uses loosely, since Indrid’s drinks have almost no booze), then disappear into the bathroom for a little while, returning a little disheveled. Sometimes the guy stays, keeps chatting with Indrid, sometimes they leave together. Most times the guy doesn’t stick around long.
Because of the proximity of the bathroom to the supply closets Duck needs to visit during work, he often ends up hearing just what goes on between Indrid and his date of the day. Some nights, from the noises he’s making,  it’s clear Indrid is getting fucked, likely against the door. Other nights, he can’t hear him, only his date, meaning Indrid is on his knees with a dick in his mouth.
Duck tries not to worry or judge. Indrid’s a grown-ass man, and can fuck as many guys as he wants. Hell, Duck’s had plenty of bathroom and backseat one-nighters in his time.
But.
Whenever he overhears him, or sees him at the bar after the trysts, all he can think is that Indrid somehow deserves better than a bathroom hook-up who half the time won’t stick around for a second drink. A dinner date, maybe, or a spin through Golden Gate park. Flowers, he bets Indrid would like those. At the very least, he deserves someone who will offer him their jacket when he starts shivering no matter how warm the bar is. Only three guys have, and Duck decide those three are the ones he most approves of.
Then again, maybe the guy he’s with now is a good one.
“Ah! Harder, please, oh goodness yes I-”
“Jesus, do you ever shut up?”
That’s a no then.
When they get back to the bar, Duck glares at the guy as he pays the tab and leaves with only a few words to Indrid, who keeps his eyes downcast.
“Bit of dud?” He leans over the bar, wishing for way to make Indrid look less…muted.
“I suppose. Oh well, they can’t all be charmers.” He flashes Duck a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“That they can’t. Speakin’ of which-hey! Boyd I saw that!”
By the time he’s done calming one of his regulars down from trying to pick a fight with an out of towner, Indrid is gone.
———————————
A week later, when Duck sees Indrid take his latest date by the hand and lead him towards the bathrooms, he beats them to the door. He’s put this off longer than he should have.
“Uh uh, Indrid, not tonight.”
Indrid starts blushing with embarrassment as the man he’s with glowers at Duck. He remains undeterred.
“I been getting complaints from other patrons about your, uh, activities back here. It’s makin’ an awful lot of folks uncomfortable that they can hear someone gettin’ their dick sucked when they’re just tryin’ to use the john.”
“Hey, pal, how about you just ignore those complaints?” The date flashes a twenty at him.
“Nope.”
“Look, asshole, just because you serve the drinks at this shitty place-”
“Do not speak to him that way.” Indrid snaps, crosses his arms. The man looks at Duck, still blocking the door, then back at Indrid.
“Whatever, you’re not worth this much hassle.” He disappears.
Indrid glances at Duck, cheeks still pink.
“I’m sorry, Duck, I didn’t mean to cause trouble for you, or make people uncomfortable. I’ll just pay and go.”
“Hey, Indrid, it’s okay, you can stay I just needed you to know what was off-limits, I ain’t mad at you or nothin.” He touches his shoulder reassuringly and Indrid takes a sharp, shaky inhale.
“I, I’m sorry, I s-should”
Duck’s worked in a bar for years, he can tell when someone’s about to cry. Gently, he leads Indrid back to a staff break area, eases him down into a chair.
“You must think I’m reckless and awful.” It’s a sniffle and Duck, having no tissues, grabs a stray handful of napkins.
“Don’t think anythin’ of the kind. Sometimes wonder how you fell into the habits you have, but I also know that’s none of my damn business.”
Indrid blows his nose, tosses the napkin towards the trash.
“I m-moved here a few months ago to be with someone, after he got hired at a tech start-up. Two weeks after I got here, he dumped me. He, he said I was a walking disaster, that I talk too much, that, that I was a starter boyfriend at best and not really even good enough for that and didn’t deserve someone like him.”
“Asshole.” Duck mutters, rubbing a circle on Indrids back, a motion that seems to calm the skinnier man.
“I barely knew anyone, still don’t, and I liked hooking up at first because it was fun but it, it’s also because he was right, I shouldn’t ask for anything more than a few hours with someone. This feels like what I deserve.”
Duck lowers onto his knees in front of Indrid. Cups his chin with one hand, strokes his tangled strands of white hair with the other.
“Indrid, that’s the biggest load of bullshit I ever heard. I’ve gotten to know you plenty well and I can gauran-goddamn-tee you deserve better than givin’ a blowjob on a bathroom floor. You deserve the best this city and the guys in it have to offer.”
Indrid meets his gaze, eyes still watery behind his red glasses. But he smiles, soft and sweet and genuine.
“Thank you, Duck. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said since I got here.”
Duck tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, takes a moment to admire the strange angles of Indrids face.
A crash from out front, followed by Leo, the other bartender, yelling “Boyd!”
“I better go help out. You stay here as long as you need.”
He glances back just as gets to the door. Indrid is looking at him. And he’s still smiling.
———————————
Duck’s resigned himself to the possibility of not seeing Indrid again. After all, the guy was clearly embarrassed and maybe that means he won’t come back to The Beacon.
But Tuesday night, Indrid is in like usual. This time, he’s alone.
“Hey stranger, what’ll you have?” Duck flashes him a teasing smile.
“The sweetest thing you can make me.”
Duck pours a few ingredients into a glass, tosses a maraschino cherry in and slides it to Indrid. The taller man takes a sip. Grins, takes another, and then chugs half the drink before popping the cherry into his mouth.
“What is this?”
“Shirley Temple.”
“Wait, that’s-”
“Nonalcoholic? Yeah. Look, Indrid, I got a confession: your drinks have had little to no booze in ‘em since week two you of you comin’ here, because I watched you wince and then not drink ‘em when they did. Don’t worry, I charged you less for ‘em. Even made you a few experimental ones that I figured would be to your tastes”
“You….made special drinks for me?”
“Yep.” Duck serves two more regulars as Indrid contemplatively sips from his glass.
“That’s sweet.”
“Oughta be, mostly grenadine.”
“No, I meant what you did. With the drinks” He smiles shyly at him and Duck feels his cheeks heat up.
“I think I’d only like nonalcoholic ones from now on.”
“Roger that.” Duck winks at him just as another regular, one he needs to have a word with, steps up to the bar.
“Ned, for chrissake, will you tell Boyd that he doesn’t need to take on every straight dude-bro who wanders in here.”
“I take it my beau has become overeager in his quest to ensure a safe space?”
“He broke a chair, Ned. And while I appreciate the time he literally carried the guy who took issue with me bein’ trans out the door, if I wanted a bouncer I’d hire one.”
“Very well friend Duck, very well.” Ned notices Indrid, nods at him, “I see you’re flying solo this evening.”
“Yes, I’ve decided a change of pace was in order.” He smiles at Duck again and this time his heart flutters more than it usually does when Indrid’s around.
The pattern changes over the next few weeks. Indrid will come in multiple days a week, though now he favors late afternoon or early evening on weekends, and shows up on weeknights that are usually slow. Duck makes him something sweet, with as many maraschino cherries as ice cubes. Indrid will talk with Duck, or draw on the sketchpad he brings, and as the days go by he starts to open up more to Ned, Boyd, and a few other regulars.
Through their talks, Duck learns that Indrid works as psychic/palm reader/tarot reader as well as taking commissions for his art. That he loves the fog, even though it’s cold, and that he really likes Dim Sum, boba tea, and kool-aid. They swap stories about their tattoos, and whenever Duck recommends a sight to see in the city or in the east bay, Indrid jots it down.  Duck finds him easy to talk to, full of ideas and anecdotes, hands moving animatedly as he speaks and it’s so endearing Duck doesn’t mind the few times he knocks a glass over. 
Yeah, his ex was full of shit.
———————————
It’s a busy Friday night and Duck is feeling good. He woke up feeling himself (as his friend Aubrey likes to say) and as result is dressed extra sharp, with pants he knows make his ass look amazing.  Indrid is in his usual spot, the stool on the farthest end of the bar, and although Duck doesn’t have much time to chat, he still sends the odd smile and wink his way. Towards the end of the night, right before closing, Indrid disappears and Duck assumes he went home.
After everyone is out, he shuts and locks the door and begins cleaning up. He steps into the bathroom to make sure it’s not so wrecked that he can’t leave it until tomorrow when he hears a familiar noise.
It’s Indrid, in the stall behind him, letting out breathy, high moans and clearly trying to keep quiet.
He sighs.
“Okay fellas, I already closed up, so how’s about continuin’ this somewhere else.”
There’s a muffled curse and then Indrid steps out. Alone. He washes his hands hurriedly.
“Sorry, I lost track of time.”
“Someone out there got you all worked up?”
Indrid turns, his eyes slowly taking in Duck from top to toe.
“You could say that.”
“Really now? What else could you say?”
“I’d say-” As Indrid speaks Duck takes a step towards him, accidentally knocking his keys from the counter onto the floor. Indrid kneels down to grab them, ends up eye-level with his belt, freezes as he looks up at Duck. They’re so close, so very close.
Indrid leans forward an inch, kisses Ducks stomach quickly, stands up just as fast and hands Duck his keys.
“I should go.” He doesn’t move an inch.
“First you should finish answerin’ my question.”
“I would say” Indrid whispers, picking his words carefully, “that if the person I was thinking of was in this room, I would very much not object to him kissing me.”
Duck doesn’t hesitate, takes Indrid by the shoulders and pulls him into a kiss. Indrid threads his fingers into Ducks hair, let’s the shorter man press him against the counter. Duck laughs into the kiss as Indrid starts taking the phrase “climb him like a tree” literally, trying to wrap his legs around Duck and bring them closer.
“Somethin else you want, darlin’?” Duck pants when they finally break apart.
“Yes, but I have it on good authority it’s not permitted in this bathroom.”
Duck slides his hands into Indrids back pockets.
“Ain’t no one here to make uncomfortable. And a perk of ownin’ the places is that I can make exceptions to the rules. Like, say, when a cute fella makes me so hard I can’t see straight.”
Indrid kisses him again at that, small eager sounds bubbling up in his throat.
“How d’you wanna do this?”  Duck runs a finger along Indrids collarbone.
“Oh. Uh….” Indrid fiddles with the crystal he always wears around his neck, “I hadn’t given, that is, everyone just assumes I’ll bottom.”
“Well, I ain’t assumin’ nothin’, darlin’. Want you to tell me what you want.”
Indrid bites his lip, nervous, as he looks at Duck.
“May I fuck you?”
“Hell yeah.” Duck kisses him again before letting him step around him. Never has he been more grateful for the fact he keeps a basket of condoms in the bathroom for folks to take if they need. He undoes his belt, gets his pants and boxers down in a hurry and rests his elbows on the counter. When he looks at Indrid the man is frozen, condom in hand, staring at him.
“You doin’ alright there?”
“Yes.” Indrid licks his lips and Duck smirks, begins rubbing lazily at his clit.
“Enjoyin’ the view?” He purrs, gasps a little as he slips two fingers inside.
“Ohgodyes.” Indrid scrambles into motion, stepping behind Duck and wiggling his pants down. There’s a sound of tearing foil and then Duck slips his fingers back out so Indrids cock can take their place.
Indrid pushes in with a soft moan that Duck echoes, then pauses, trails kisses along Ducks neck and back.  His hands come to rest atop Ducks, their fingers intertwining as he begins steadily thrusting.
“Goodness this is even better than I imagined.”
“Yeah?” Duck grins over his shoulder at Indrid, “that what you been doin’ while you’re here? Thinkin’ about what’d feel like, ohfuck, to get that nice dick of yours inside me?”
“Well, yes. But, oh god, not only that. I daydreamed about every part of you, touching each inch.” His hands begin roving across Ducks body, shoulders and stomach, chest and arms, even his thighs receive reverent, hungry touches. Duck groans in pleasure, and Indrid presses a kiss to the back of his head, breath growing shakier as his touches turn to grabs.
“C-can I go harder?” He whispers, nuzzling Ducks ear.
“Hard as you want, handsomeOHshit.” His nails scratch at the tile as Indrid straightens, grips his hips and pounds into him.  He tosses his head back, a stream of praise and thanks leaving him underscored by the sound of skin hitting skin and that settles it, this is the hottest goddamn thing Duck’s ever seen. He locks eyes with Indrid in the mirror, grinning at how utterly ruined he looks. Indrid suddenly stops making noise, looks a little sheepish.
“Ain’t gotta be quiet on my account, darlin’, like hearin’ that sweet voice moanin’ my name.”
Indrid smiles at him before picking up his pace, hips snapping more erratically.
“Yes, gracious, Duck you feel so good, I’m so close.”
Duck growls, pushes his hips back.
“Sweetheart, Duck, ohmy yes yesyesyes.” He drops his forehead to rest against Duck as he comes, fingers pressing into his skin as he moans more high, broken sounds.
When he pulls out, Duck turns around, contemplating how he wants to come but by the time he’s finished the motion Indrid is on his knees. He thumbs at the join between Ducks hips and thighs, panting, gaze flicking between Ducks clit and his eyes.
“Please?” His eyes are puppy-dog wide. Duck smiles indulgently at him, nods and then Indrids head dives between his legs.
So this is why the guys were always so damn loud on nights when Indrid sucked them off. His tongue is fucking magic. Duck moans, tangles his hands into Indrids hair and grinds his hips.
“Holy fuck, shit, Indrid you’re fuckin’ amazing.”
Indrid meets his eyes, noticeably smiling even as he closes his lips around Ducks clit, making the man yelp and then growl.
“That’s it darlin’, suck my dick, yeah, oh fuck yeah, you’re doin’ so good, that’s it honeyohhhh.” He cums against Indrids tongue, which doesn’t stop moving until his hips stop pulsing.
There’s a minute where the only sound in the room is their joint, ragged breathing. Duck pulls his pants back on as Indrid shimmies his back up. When the taller man looks at him, Duck opens his arms in invitation.
Indrid is in them immediately. Duck holds him tight, feels a little hum of pleasure and happiness buzz against him out of Indrids chest.
From the bar, his closing time playlist switches to a new, slow song, and he begins to sway them gently to the melody.
Wise men say
Only fools rush in
But I can’t help
Falling in love with you
Jumping the gun a bit there, King, he thinks, but then Indrid grins down at him and he tilts his head, kissing him slowly and softly, Indrid caressing his cheek with his cold fingers and he knows exactly what the singer means.
They kiss and dance until the song ends. At which point Indrid goes pale.
“Oh no! Shoot! What time is it?” He digs his phone out of his pocket, “Oh damn it, BART will’ve stopped running by the time I get to the station.”
“Hey, no worries, I can call you a cab or one of those ubery things. Or…” Duck takes his hand, “if you don’t got anywhere you have to be in the mornin’, you could crash with me. I live upstairs, so it ain’t far.”
Indrid arches an eyebrow.
“An offer that comes, I’m sure, from purely the goodness of your heart?” He teases.
“Gotta be honest: yes. Fuckin around with you plus workin’ all night wore me out, so I ain’t gonna try anythin.”
Indrid cocks his head, unconvinced.
“Honest” Duck says,”besides, don’t expect anythin’ in exchange for offerin’ a friend a place to sleep.”
“And if the friend offers it tomorrow morning?” Indrid flutters his eyelashes.
“Then I ain’t gonna complain.” He smiles, offers Indrid his hand and the other man takes it.
Once they’re upstairs, he gives Indrid the chance to take the bed for himself and have Duck sleep on the couch but Indrid simply shakes his head, pulls Duck onto the bed with him. They change out of their street clothes, Duck into his boxers and Indrid into one of Ducks sweatshirts. Indrid makes himself into the big spoon, kissing Duck on the neck as they settle in for the night.
“Indrid?”
“Yes Duck?”
“Will you let me take you out? Like on a real date or two, or more if things are goin’ well?”
“Gladly.” Indrid sighs, snuggles up closer, and Duck squeezes the hand resting on his chest.
In the morning Duck wakes up first, slips out of the apartment for a quick errand. By the time he gets back Indrid is stirring, and the skinnier man smiles when Duck holds aloft the breakfast he brought. The smile grows neon-bright when Duck reveals his other purchase from behind his back:
Flowers.
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ladyfl4me · 5 years
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i think there's going to be a twist next episode. i think only like 3 people and stern will show up?? since i don't think kepler actually believes in the cryptics?
yeah, they seem skeptical at worst and indifferent at best, depending on who you ask. hollis knows; sheriff zeke knows; most likely megghahn (?) knows. pigeon knows, re: her involvement in arc 2. if only a few people show up and the rest of the town just turns their back on the shit that “ned” is doing, that would make a lot of sense.
then again, there’s a logical extreme to the spectrum. we know, thanks to the bigfoot video, the power that the internet can wield. and it’s established - as in episode 2 or 3, when ned crashed into the gate but didn’t see it until mama told him it was there - that someone “in the know” needs to tell people about the gate in order for them to see it, if they’re not innately magical like aubrey is.
“ned” broadcast this message to all of kepler. now they can see the gate. if anyone - say, stern - gets a hold of the recording and takes it to the FBI, then they’ll see it and know about the gate. if anyone - say, kirby - gets a hold of the recording and puts it on youtube because it sounds like a saturday night dead advertising gimmick, whoever sees it will know about the gate. that announcement is a scalpel in the right hands and the death star in the wrong ones. depending on the scope of “ned’s” TV spot, we might have an iron giant situation on our hands, where stern calls in for backup and they send in the fucking army.
though.
there’s something else i’m really worried about. in one of my earlier posts, i mentioned that the abomination of this arc stole ned’s scarf, which had his pineguard patch on it - aka the thing that protects him from being taken over by the berserker curse. and ned has shown himself to want to be reliable. he wants to help his friends. he did his best to try to steal the stuff back from boyd, he bought the crepes by monica van to help out the pine guard, and he’s doing his best to atone for what he did in the past.
what if that desire to keep doing the right thing, despite his past, gets him into hot water? what if he runs out to the gate, without his patch, and tries to warn sylvain of what his double did? if he doesn’t have his patch, though, it’s possible that he could be taken over with the rage curse before he even gets to anyone who can help, and he might even get gunned down.
i’m just. HHJFSKFSKLJDFSLKDF FUCK, whatever happens next episode is going to blindside me, i honestly have no idea what might be coming next.
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luobingmeis · 5 years
Text
okay so AMNESTY
mad spoilers under the cut bc i’ve had a couple hours to think and let what happened in that ep completely consume me and i have So Much To Say
psa: this post is a fucking mess bc im so tired
shout out to sheriff ownes for just Accepting this shit like he really just looked at scary not-barclay bigfoot and spectre deputy dewey and went, “adult life is already so goddamn weird, this may as well happen”
aubrey and hollis bitching at each other,,,, i kinda super love it
aubrey’s “fuck off” was good, and surprising imo, too
“you better respectre that... it’s a little spectre joke” “yeah, very little”
also i just really loved duck in general in that opening scene like
honestly just the way that duck and ned are as characters is so interesting to me like!!! you have duck who is, by all accounts minus the talking sword, super normal, but he’s still so brave and so ready to rush into things. and ned, who seems himself as the “lesser” and the “coward” of the group, has really been put through the ringer recently and is still fucking trucking along!!!
and then there’s aubrey, who is so fiery and passionate and shows that in every single thing that she does. she’s impulsive and so action-before-thought but she’s also so ready to learn about what the Fuck is going on and just
okay forgive me i’m so fucking tired and have been so consumed by the last fucking two minutes of the episode that my thoughts are so jumbled
but, w/ aubrey, i love how she was actually getting frustrated with janelle
and duck and leo have me fucking Nervous
ALSO THO CALLED IT THAT THIS ABOMINATION IS PROBABLY LOOKING TO START A WAR BETWEEN EARTH AND SYLVANE
also, back to aubrey, my theory is that, after touching the crystal, sylvane is literally A Part of her, thus why she was able to save dewey. but, speaking of dewey, if only sylvans become ghosts in the light of sylvane........ is dewey a sylvan??????
BUT HEY LETS TALK ABOUT NED AND BOYD FOR A HOT SECOND
well, ned first: 1) where’s that laptop, 2) when dani showed up in mama’s office, i high key freaked out
i didn’t expect him to take the statue so quickly but Holy Shit
and the hotel scene with boyd and ned? 
or, shall i say, “boyd” and ned
like, when ned was offering boyd the cryptonomica van, i thought it was gonna be that ned would file a “stolen van” report with the police and get boyd arrested again
and then he was basically like, “boyd, i will give you everything i have if you give me the pendant” and i was like Holy Fuck
im so tired i promise i’m more eloquent than this i’m just fucking exhausted 
and then boyd being sick really got to me? like, at first, i Really didn’t want ned to give him the statue, but then when i realized that it was 99% gonna go to boyd’s treatment for whatever he has.......
but when griffin got to the epilogue, i knew Something had to be up. i really thought it was going to be that boyd lied and still had all of ned’s stuff. or that boyd someone was in contact with mama.
and then
and fucking then
“boyd” steps through the rift while boyd’s actual body (aka a fucking corpse) is left in the closet
like holy fuck????? i think boyd was who was in that light caccoon in the hotel
and that “sacrifice/transaction” janelle mentioned?? i think it was either boyd, or will be dani
but boyd’s death keeps fucking me up so badly bc 1) we know For Sure that this abomination can speak and reason and tap into memories and literally know Everything about the person it mimics, 2) ned still very much thinks that boyd is alive, and 3) i try not to look at amnesty through a balance lense but us finding boyd’s corpse in the closet is the closest i have felt to balance-levels of fucking me up
oh my god this post is so messy but i’m so tired and i need to relisten to the episode one more time to get all my thoughts in order
a couple weeks back, i saw someone mentioning how this arc felt like “finale territory” for amnesty and, back then, i didn’t get it, but now i Completely See It like,,,, this feels Super Close to finale territory
also, final point, if one of the final scenes of this arc isn’t the pine guard being faced with two clones of each other, both going, “i’m the real one!!! kill the other one!!!!!” i will be fucking shocked
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