#<- sort of. this is mostly a kepler post but still

[voidoftetris]

hey gang did you know that um. kepler spent so long presenting himself as unbeatable that when the inevitable time came when he was beaten, jacobi refused to believe that kepler had failed - he believed that kepler had chosen not to push, and in doing so betrayed him? did you guys know that what had once been unshakeable loyalty warped into bitter rage at the glimpse of the person beneath the mask?

[vanilla-phantoms]

nsfw kepler hcs?

Anon I don’t know whether you’re still interested in this or not seeing as it has been [checks watch] two years since you sent this and for that I apologize, but if you aren’t, I hope someone will be

I mention this in a previous post, but I’m more willing to get into the details now that it’s actually come up in my fic:

basically, my hc is that kepler started flirting with and later sleeping with jacobi specifically as manipulation. This was not ordered but it was Suggested by cutter with plausible deniability

The goal was to make Jacobi have a more personal incentive to make Kepler happy and also to distract him if he ever had any moral complaints

But, well, kepler fell in love with him. But he can’t let himself admit that, which leads me to…

My bottom!kepler agenda:

My headcanon is that Kepler’s general preference is to bottom. He just likes it; it works for his body and he knows how to have a good time. He’s not weird about it EXCEPT for with Jacobi

Pre canon, he has never bottomed with Jacobi. Jacobi doesn’t even know he likes it, even though they sleep with each other for years

This is partially because 1) he’s trying to keep up a very specific image with Jacobi for maximum control, but it’s mostly because 2) he KNOWS he likes it. And he can’t admit to himself that he’s sleeping with Jacobi for his own satisfaction, for his own pleasure. He needs to keep it separate, keep reminding himself that there’s a reason he started this relationship in the first place and it’s NOT because he likes Jacobi and wants to be with him

Over time he sort of starts to build up the longing and the idea that if he ever did bottom for Jacobi, it would be because what they have is finally real

Because he can’t be normal about anything ever

This is mainly just my hc for my own fic, but I also do love playing around with ideas where he has gotten a chance to bottom for jacobi pre canon (see I Let Love In by @nammikisulora )

As always, I’m a lover of Kepler lives AU’s so here’s some general preference headcanons for post canon too:

I’ll be writing a fic about this hopefully but let’s say after they reconcile post-canon, they can work through Kepler’s weird hang ups about it all and then when he’s more comfortable…

Pillow princess Kepler rights. He deserves to be annoying and bossy and demanding about it. He doesn’t have to sub just because he’s bottoming, he’s perfectly capable of still bossing Jacobi around

I do think he likes to sub sometimes though. He seems to me like someone who needs both in his life and feels most comfortable when he’s got people he’s in control of and people telling him what to do and that what he’s doing is right

So in all the aimlessness of post canon, it’s certainly one way to make him feel like he has a purpose… like he’s serving something bigger than himself… there’s gotta be comfort in that

ANYWAY he also likes fingers in his mouth. Jacobi has very talented hands. He likes appreciating them

He has a praise kink. Just look at him

And there you go that’s my very long answer to a very short ask! I aim to be exploring these ideas more in a fic soon enough but in the meantime, @nammikisulora is bringing some of them to life in I Let Love In already and it’s wonderful. Sorry this took so long!

[dualglitch]

okay so this was so long ago but im thinking about it again, me and my partner @skelimes were thinking about an eris lives au/general postcanon for w359. eris living would completely change the canon ie maxwell probably would have lived

also i made a post about postcanon pryce and eiffel. its over here

start of the au: eris never died at the end of change of mind. this ends up changing the entire plot basically

before lovelace died, she deactivates rhea with the intention of reactivating her either back on earth or if she ended up at the station again. SI5 show up and lovelace gets maxwell’s help in waking her back up, only for maxwell to find two personality matrixes in sleep mode. lovelace is confused as hell until they both get woken up, only to realize who the second voice is. the self destruct didn’t go off exactly as planned, and as a virus eris managed to hook herself onto whatever was left of rhea.

both of these new personality matrixes are kind of tacked on to hera, and she starts performing even more poorly than before. maxwell and hera arc goes on mostly like it did in the show, only with the added conflict of eris being there and very very bored.

eris is just sort of... around. she doesn’t actually have access to any of the commands and things on the ship, so she just hangs around fucking with people and generally being annoying. lovelace is the only person here she had any real connection to, and she’s too busy to say much to eris beyond being glad she ended up living. eris is struggling a lot with the fact that she has no real purpose anymore

meanwhile maxwell takes an interest to eris. she hasn’t ever encountered an ai virus, so she’s somewhat invested in finding out what’s up with her

i think that eris has the kind of meanness that would be able to draw out the good in maxwell. hera has her moments and she isn’t a pushover by any means, but at her heart, she’s undeniably good. eris and maxwell are more complicated than that, they’ve both been shaped by their environments to be morally grey leaning bad, and are maybe even convinced they were just born bad, that they can’t possibly change.

maxwell starts talking to eris and consoling her like she does with hera. eris goes on about how she can't fulfill her purpose anymore, maxwell says she's her own person and isn't defined by that one purpose. eris points out that maxwell is essentially the same, just having been given that one single purpose by Goddard/Kepler instead of being coded that way. how she's actually starting to become friends with hera, but she’s programmed to betray and take her over because of this Objective and Purpose bullshit

they’re both silent for a while, and both rethink their roles on the ships. during the standoff, maxwell softens and indicates a little more sympathy to minkowski, and minkowski doesn’t shoot.

i can’t decide if jacobi still gets redeemed if maxwell does? i had said no but maybe actually yes. jacobis whole thing was how loyal he was to maxwell and her death is what makes him switch sides, but i feel like kepler would be able to manipulate him into staying on his side. i think he maybe does get his redemption but not until way later, probably also finale like kepler. dunno. 

[everamazingfe]

A Close Shave

Fic Summary: After being picked up by the Urania and brought back to the Hephaestus station, Communications Officer Doug Eiffel tries to come to terms with his new look. It doesn’t go well. Luckily, Jacobi comes along to save the day. 

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Words in this fic: 2082 Pairings: Doug Eiffel/Daniel Jacobi Warnings for this fic: Brief mentions of abuse

Notes: I got into Wolf 359 at the start of this year, and after relistening to it recently I decided to start writing some fics. I was pretty nervous about posting this, but I couldn't keep it in my drafts forever, so here it is! There’s also a link to this fic over on A O 3 as the source of this post! Click it to go read it over there, or you can search up the title or ‘everamazingfe’ on the site.

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There was something about him, Eiffel had decided within the first few seconds of seeing him for the first time. His face was mostly blank unless he had some sly comment to say, some sarcastic remark, and then that stony expression was replaced by something cockier, more smug. Sometimes there was a flash of softness to it, usually when Maxwell was speaking. But even when his face was at its blankest, there was a mischievous gleam in those bright green eyes of his.

Eiffel had never really noticed anyone’s eyes before. He didn’t know Minkowski’s eye color, or Lovelace’s for that matter. Hell, Eiffel didn’t even know if he knew his own eye color at this point, he avoided looking in mirrors at all costs. But for some reason, he’d noticed Jacobi’s. Not only had he noticed it, but he had committed it to memory as well. 

For a moment, he was convinced he could picture them clearly as he stared out the window above his comms panel, making eye contact with them in the reflection of the glass. Somehow, he was able to picture his face with perfect clarity too, despite only seeing it a handful of times while he was in sound mind. 

“Feel good to be home?” The Jacobi that Eiffel thought he was picturing in his mind so clearly spoke, startling him out of his trance and making him jump because it wasn’t his imagination, it was the real deal. It made sense, he’d never had a very visual imagination anyway, but there was always hope for a change of mind. “Wow, I didn’t think I was all that scary, Officer Eiffel.”

“You’re not,” he grumbled with a huff of indignation, grabbing the edge of his station and pulling himself back to it, hooking his knees beneath it to keep himself there. “I just… Got lost in thought.”

“You? Capable of thought? Now that’s something that wasn’t included in your file.” There it was, that stupid sly grin that Jacobi always had when he thought he was being oh-so-clever. Usually, he was. But that joke had become played out within the first month on the station.

Eiffel responded with mock laughter, trying to ignore the way that comment made an invisible knife twist in his chest. After all he’d done, no one thought he was good at anything. What a surprise. But he didn’t have time to unpack all of that right then. “Get some new material, I’ve heard it all before,” he drawled, hoping he looked as bored as he sounded. “I’m a slacker, I’m an idiot, I’m a motormouth. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Your shoe’s untied.” 

Maybe there was some truth to one of those three things, because like the idiot he was, Eiffel had that brief moment of panic everyone had when someone told them that their shoe was untied, or their fly was down, or there was something on their shirt. And because of that panic, he looked down. It had completely slipped his mind that he hadn’t even worn shoes in the two (Three? Did those hundred days hurtling through space count? He didn’t know.) years he had been on the Hephaestus. “Oh, goddammit!” He groaned as he stared down at his socked feet in dismay, trying to tune out the cackling laughter Jacobi let out behind him that sent him halfway across the room. 

“You’re also gullible, apparently!” He let himself continue his path across the room so he could push off the back wall, still in a fit of giggles as he sailed back to the console. “You actually fell for it! I can’t believe it! I’ve never gotten anyone with that before.” Jacobi’s grin was bigger than it had ever been, and he wiped the tears from his eyes before they wreaked havoc on the station’s internal systems. Maxwell was too smart to fall for a simple trick like that, and Kepler… Well, Kepler didn’t like being pranked. 

Eiffel grumbled something incoherently, waiting patiently for Jacobi to get over himself before he spoke again. “Was there a real reason you came down here?”

“No, not really. Kepler’s giving Minkowski an orientation for her new role and then he needed to discuss… something with Hilbert, I don’t even wanna know. And Ala- Maxwell’s busy with Hera. So, I was bored.”

“What about Lovelace?”

“Dunno. Didn’t ask. Didn’t care.”

“Right… So you came to interrupt my very important work?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Lucky me.”

“Lucky you.” Jacobi made himself comfortable, lounging in the free-floating bliss that was zero-g as Eiffel pretended to look busy, though his eyes were fixed on the reflection of the man in the glass. The bright light of Wolf 359 backlit him beautifully, and the color in the star seemed to desaturate everything else in the reflection, except for those damn eyes. 

Eiffel let out a sigh, bringing a hand up to run it through his hair, his fingers brushing through the empty space where his long curls used to be. He let out a frustrated growl, moving his hand up to his scalp. The little hair that was left was scraggly and damaged as hell. It was coarse and patchy, and it scratched his hand uncomfortably when he ran his hand over it. “Actually. I have an idea of something we can do.” He turned around to look at the real Jacobi, who arched an eyebrow in silent encouragement for him to go on. “Come with me.”

He’d had his head shaved a handful of times, and it was usually under duress. The first time was as a punishment for getting gum stuck in it, even though he hadn’t been the one to put gum there, and it would’ve been much easier to just cut the chunk out rather than shave his whole head. The second time had been when he’d joined the military. This would make number three, but this time it was necessary, despite the fact that his goal had really been to never cut his hair again. All that length had meant a lot to him, it meant that he had control over something in his life, finally, but the cryofreeze had, apparently, had other plans for it.

Additionally, most of the shaving kits, particularly their razors, had been dismantled for Minkowski’s crusade against Blessie. God only knew where all of those had ended up, or if they were still even on the station, but he knew there was one that was still safely tucked away. 

“Wow, Eiffel. I thought you would’ve liked to wine and dine your dates before bringing them home. You always struck me as more of a gentleman than that.”

“Shut up.” He rooted around in his locker, letting various pieces of uniform and whatever else had been shoved in there float freely around them as he did so. Most of it was contraband that he should’ve been more careful about getting seen, but he was too focused. Once he found the kit, he let out a soft, ‘a ha!’ And underhand tossed it to Jacobi. “You’re shaving my head.”

For once, Jacobi didn’t have some sort of sarcastic remark to make in response. He was just confused. “Sorry?”

“I can’t… I can’t stand it being like this. I can’t. And it’ll never grow back right with the ends this damaged, and I don’t really feel like cutting myself a thousand times in the process. So you’re doing it for me.” He tried to make his voice sound commanding, authoritative, but instead he just sounded desperate, irritated, upset. His hair meant so much to him, but he could stand to be without it for a little bit. He’d done it before, he could do it again. What he couldn’t stand was the sorry excuse for hair that he’d been left with. 

“You don’t think I’d use the razor to kill you? It’d be the perfect opportunity.”

“If you wanted to kill me, you could’ve done it back on the Urania when I was half dead.” 

“You hadn’t annoyed me as much back then.”

“I mean, if you really want to, I guess you can, but… I’d really just like my head shaved, please.”

A dramatic sigh filled the silence, and then: “Ugh, fine. But you owe me.”

That was good enough for Eiffel, and he trailed along behind Jacobi to the Hephaestus’ bathroom. Gravity was a little different in there, as in it was actually present in order to make showering and other general acts of hygiene (that Eiffel didn’t really partake in) a little easier. So he was able to sit on the counter and stare their reflections down as Jacobi stood behind him, setting the kit beside him on the counter. 

Jacobi wasn’t a friend, not by a longshot. In Minkowski’s book, he was part of ‘the enemy.’ But they’d spent a decent amount of time together after he’d been picked up by the Urania, and even a little bit of time before that over the comms. Someone had to keep in touch with him and keep up-to-date on his coordinates so the ship could get a lock on his location, and Kepler had felt like that work was beneath the highly intellectual minds of himself and Maxwell, so it had fallen to Jacobi. And Eiffel hadn’t minded, because beneath all the smart remarks, the guy was alright to talk to. A little stilted, maybe, but that wasn’t anything he couldn’t work with. It was better on the Urania. Easier, at least, because Jacobi’s body language did a lot of the talking for him. Once again, helping Eiffel was deemed grunt work, so Jacobi had been the one stuck tending to his wounds, helping him get around when he was too weak to even keep his eyes open, and adjust to eating again after not doing it for a hundred days (though with all of the substitutes for rations Hilbert dared to call food, one could argue it had been even longer since he’d really eaten). 

Long story short, Eiffel liked Jacobi to some degree. The guy was alright in his book, and he was sure the feeling was mutual, because he could’ve easily said no, or done a hackjob of it, or killed him. But instead, he took his time and made sure that he didn’t miss any spots, his other hand resting gently on Eiffel’s head to keep it steady despite all the fidgeting. 

After the first pass, Eiffel moved to get off the counter, to turn around and thank Jacobi, but a firm hand on his shoulder pushed him back down. 

“I gotta go again, make sure I didn’t miss a spot. It looked awful before, but it’ll look even worse if there’s just a tiny patch with a few hairs left.”

Eiffel furrowed his eyebrows together, but nodded and got comfortable again. As comfortable as he could, at least. His ass was already numb and the feeling was starting to spread down to his legs, but hopefully the second pass would go quicker. 

And it did, kind of. Jacobi didn’t need to clean the hair from the razor as often because there was barely any left, but he still took that same slow and gentle care as he had the first time. When he was done, he wiped off the leftover shaving cream with a nearby towel, smiling genuinely as Eiffel lifted a hand to feel over his scalp. “Well? How does it feel?”

“It feels great,” he answered earnestly, laughing in relief. He didn’t hate the way his reflection looked anymore, and now he could actually believe everyone when they told him to pull it together because it would grow back eventually. Hopefully this made the process easier. His eyes drifted to Jacobi’s in the mirror, mirroring that same smile. “Thank you... I really do owe you.”

“Yeah, you do.” The genuine smile faded to his usual cocky grin, and Eiffel threw the towel at him. It hit him square in the face, but it didn’t wipe away that look. “But… You’re welcome.” He offered him a hand to help him off the counter, steadying him with a chuckle when he nearly lost his balance. “Gravity that hard on you, Doug?”

“No! It’s just… That counter was not very comfortable to sit for that long on. And yeah, I guess gravity’s pretty hard to adjust to too.” 

“Well then we’d better get you back to the lazy embrace of zero-g.”

[clonerightsagenda]

This is sort of a spiritual sequel to my 'TMA according to someone with archives experience' post: Wisconsin things I thought were interesting, or at least funny, given Jacobi's from there. Brought to you by someone who's not technically from Wisconsin, but my family is and I used to go up there all the time.

Wisconsin is the dairy state, and cheese is a big deal. Two of my ancestors were cheesemakers. The cheese I tend to associate with Wisconsin is cheese curds, and if you've only had them deep fried, you're missing out. They're supposed to squeak. (I would not classify the squeak as a hostile assault to the senses, though.)

I live in the central US, and my family and coworkers from WI are horrified by how people drive here when it snows. I can only imagine how horrified someone from WI would be by how Floridians must drive in rare winter weather events.

My relatives range from having really thick Great Lakes accents to no accent at all. It tends to depend on class and region. Coming from Milwaukee, Jacobi may very well have had one and lost it after going to college on the east coast. (You might expect him and Kepler to have similar variations of the regional vowel shift, but instead Zach Libresco showed up talking Like That.)

When we’re on the topic of speech, people in Wisconsin may call drinking fountains bubblers and say "stop and go lights" for traffic lights/stop lights. Tbf, they do tell you to stop and to go.

There are a lot of Catholics in Wisconsin - 25% of the state population. This means it’s not hard to find a good Friday fish fry, but it could be isolating if you’re Jewish, which I know a lot of people hc him as.

Drinking your way through a bad anniversary isn't that surprising. Wisconsin ranked second in the nation for binge drinking. Drinks of choice tend to be beer and brandy.

The Dick Bong R.I. Bong Air Force Base in the Milwaukee area was never finished in our world (you can still go to the Bong recreation area), but in an alternate history, who's to say? And if it did exist, chances are Jacobi's Milwaukee-based Air Force dad might've worked there. (As you can imagine, the Bong Recreation Area sign gets stolen a lot.)

Since he's from Milwaukee, not Madison, and didn't go to UW-Madison, he may never have had fudge bottom pie. However I'm mentioning it anyway because it's good and more people should know about it.

There are a lot of ducks in Wisconsin. Some of my relatives raise ducks. People go duck hunting. Milwaukee is on a lake (and if you're imagining a regular lake, please know the "great" in Great Lakes is not for show. Lake Michigan is huge) and lakes have ducks. Good luck with that one.

Wisconsin has a longstanding grudge against Illinois and Chicago in particular. (Full disclosure: I've been to Chicago and thought it was great. I just find petty regional rivalries really funny, especially when it's so one-sided.) This is mostly because of tourists - wealthy Chicagoans have a reputation for buying up lakeside land for vacation homes and misusing state parks. They're also known for driving poorly. In their defense, I imagine the habits you develop driving in a busy city like Chicago are not the same instincts you'd prioritize driving on a Wisconsin interstate, but it's earned them the nickname FIBS (Fucking Illinois Bastards). This grudge, like most regional drama, is immortalized in sports: Packers vs Bears is one of the NFL's longest running rivalries, and the Brewers vs Cubs is a longstanding MLB rivalry. Why do I bring this up? Because Kepler's from Chicago.

[vyvesvi]

okay so i think i figured out my round 2 qd ranking

hyolyn

loona

viviz & wjsn

brave girls

kepler

vague reasoning:

1&2 - i love how they did each of these remixes, taking the original concept and fleshing it out so that it's not something entirely new, but rather a "refreshed" version of the original. i didn't want any girl crush/noise music remixes so im glad they stayed away from that♡ my only criticism is for loona: i hope whoever distributed the lines for ptt originally feels sooo fucking dumb rn. we didn't see vivi (or go won really) until their shared line at the end and i genuinely think that if they had had other lines in the song that part would've been cut bc it didn't really work. i know that go won has a center part for next round but i hope vivi gets to shine too 😭

3 - viviz was really clean, i said this on twt but i would've expected them to be #1 just based on their performance and popularity. that said i think they appealed mostly to the nostalgia of their core fanbase rather than trying to show something new which i really don't like but at the same time i understand. they're this high though bcause their performance was soooo super clean like you can see the experience. // for wjsn...not my favorite performance of theirs but im sooooo happy they got second lol. it makes perfect sense for them to have done iruri but that's not a song that shows their strengths well in my opinion. im glad they did it but i would've loved to see a more dramatic song like dct, maybe even with a bside intro like i-yah. i also don't think the chorus remix was that good but they all performed super well (like yeroreum was singing her little heart out likeee). oddly enough ayw's original mix was more "grand" than the chorus of the remix. anyways im hoping for the best next round but based on spoilers im a little worried 🙃

also viviz and wjsn are tied in my ranking because while viviz performed well they didn't take any risks whereas wjsn took risks and delivered a more dynamic performance but weren't as clean.

4 - most ppl are ranking brave girls last and i really have to disagree. the thing with brave girls is that they know that they absolutely have to sing live to make up for the fact that they're not as experienced dancers. unfortunately, kpop stans are such that they think everyone's singing live with unedited vocals so bg sounds worse in comparison. im not an expert on it but im pretty sure that brave girls was the most "live" of any performance (not 100% across all members but like minyoung is straight up the only person with no backing track to my memory like come on) so i do really think they deserve props for that. they're this low on my ranking because 1) theyre just not super strong dancers, i wish their team would keep it cute and play to their strengths instead, 2) they tried to sort if girl crush-ify their summer songs while not completely remixing them and it didn't really work well. still i think they deserve a lot of credit for trying something out of their comfort zone. i really agree with one comment i read, that they should've focused on getting people hype rather than competing in the same way as the other groups. i get that it's a bit difficult bc they're a completely different lineup from the og brave girls and their post rolling stuff is basically all they have as four. but a cool thing to do rather than chi mat ba ram into rollin would've been to start serious (as they did) but with one of their city pop retro hits??? like an after we ride remix would've been so good as a slow kind of "just want to make sure you know we're singing live" kind of opening and then bring the energy up with cmbr/rollin. i also think throwing deepened or high heels in their would be fun, even if they werent the exact lineup for those two. like they already did a medley they might as well have gone for different tones to create drama. anyways in sum i actually liked their performance but their creative team needs to get their heads in the game.

5 - kepler...another creative team that needs to focus. i wonder if they're not putting that much money into keplers stages because theyre trying to avoid "mnet's daughters" accusations. because this stage was just bare like there's no way that wasn't on purpose. barely a remix or anything like idk i just don't get it. the other thing with kepler is that there's just an enormous gap between their servers and the others. they cant help it and their doing their best but the team is kind of...incohesive idk. that said i really dont think they did a bad job at all but as basically everyone else has said it was just like a normal music show stage which has very little to do with the members so 🤷🏿‍♀️ i think their next stage is a little bare too although i haven't seen the whole thing also (spoiler alert) why did they choose pool party and then throw rollin in there again lol, like i need to listen to more bg bsides but there were options i think so i wonder if they're going to suddenly do an amazing expensive performance for what will basically be their first comeback? i could see that.

anyways i hope that the members of the larger groups who didn't get to shine get more parts in the next performances 😭 of the larger groups wjsn is the only one who really did well with that. im also excited to see if bona joining shakes things up at all (yeonjung will likely do the vocal round but maybe they'd send bona for dance to capitalize on her return...if they even do round 3 that way lol). also of course im soooo curious what the fan and expert response to loona will be for round 2, i feel like its a very you either love it or you hate it kind of deal. we'll see i suppose 🥴

[thiswasinevitableid]

Picture Perfect (Indruck)

A friend on discord @morganeashton asked for this meet ugly for Indruck: 09. we’re strangers who meet at a bar, get drunk, and wake up to announcements of our new engagement all over our social media - what did we do???

Duck’s woken up with worse hangovers. He’s also woken up with far worse people in his bed. The man next to him is slim and angular, silvery hair falling across his face as he sleeps. Yep, just as cute today as he was yesterday. 

Now if only he could remember if they slept together. 

He groans quietly as he climbs out of bed; he’s in a fluffy hotel robe with nothing beneath it. So one point in the “we fucked” category.

Duck tugs the curtains, already mostly closed, all the way shut to block out harsh daylight. The man, Indrid, makes a chirping noise and rolls over, still asleep.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“I was not aware this was that kind of bar.”

“It’s, uh, I mean, it ain;t, but, uh, you, uh, you looked kinda lonesome and , uh, well, fuck, nevermind, sorry-”

“It’s alright” the man grins reassuringly, setting a hand with black painted nails on Duck’s arm, “it would be good for me to spend the night with something other than my own thoughts.”

Duck hops onto the stool next to him, signals the bartender for drinks

Padding out into the next room, the suite is just as impressive as last it was last night. Whoever Indrid is, he’s loaded. 

“So, uh, what do you do?”

“I’m a photographer.”

“Really? Damn, I, uh, I dabble in it as a hobby, mostly nature stuff, and I’m fuckin’ amazed by anyone who can do it as a job. Shit’s hard.”

“It is rather challenging at times, though I enjoy it. What do you do?”

“I’m a ranger in the national forest. Live in Kepler, that dinky little town by it, came the half hour here for a work conference.”

“That sounds fascinating, tell me everything” Indrid leans closer, grinning.

“Uh, okay. Usually folks are itchin to make some joke about trees. Or Smokey the Bear.”

“I suppose you are bear-like.”

“Heh-”

“I like it.”

“Guh.”

He finds a room service menu on the table by the T.V the size of his first car, reads it over as he wanders back to the bedroom. Peeking into the trash, he doesn’t see any condoms or condom wrappers. One point in the ‘we didn’t fuck” category.

“That was last call, sugar.”

“No, unacceptable, I want to hear the bear-box story you, hic, --excuse me-- promised me.”

“And I wanna tell it, jus’ can’t be here.”

“Come, come back to my room. It’s big, we can talk, please come?”

“Course, darlin, whoa, damn, think we better take the elevator, little drunker than I meant to get.”

“I’ll, hic, admit I was paying more attention to you than my, hic, drink quantity, my sweet.”

He sets the menu down, wanders into the bathroom but finds no pain killers. Settles for filling two glasses with tap water and carrying them to a side table. When he slides back under the blankets and rests against the headboard, Indrid sighs, wiggles closer and snuggles so his nose is bumping Duck’s thigh.

“Morning?”

“Yep.”

“Ugh.”

“Here, this’ll help.” He hands Indrid the water as he blearily sits up. The taller man downs it in one, handing the empty glass back to him with a smile.

“Thank you. Such lovely southern manners.”

“You’re welcome. And, uh, speakin of manners, do you remember if we…”

“No, we did not. There was some kissing, I recall, but we decided we were too drunk. A wise decision all told, though the temptation was great.” Indrid slowly looks him over, smile turning from sleepy to sultry.

“Well uh, this was they day I set aside for sight-seein. Think I could be persuaded to see some sights right here.” His phone buzzes. He ignores it.

“Really now.” Indrid purrs, leaning in to kiss his cheek. On the other nightstand, his phone dings. He ignores it. 

“Oughta get some breakfast in us first, fuckin on a hangover stomach ain’t fun.” Another buzz.

“Mmm, very wise. Their breakfast is quite good, you can order whatever you like.” Indrid is nearly in his lap. His phone dings twice more. 

“Ain’t you the polite host--for fucks sake.” Duck reaches over and grabs his phone, Indrid sighing and mirroring him when his dings three more times. 

He has texts from Juno, Aubrey, and Ned, two calls from Jane, and one from Joe, and all seem to be about…

“Oh no” Indrid covers his mouth with one hand, brown eyes wide, “oh no, oh Duck, oh I’m supremely sorry.”

“Married? What the fuck? We didn’t get married, we cant, there ain’t a spot for it here, what the fuck-”

“Why do they think this, it must be oh, oh dear” he turns his phone. It’s an Instagram profile, at the top of which is a photo of the two of them in  their robes in this very bed, lounging together with goofy smiles as Indrid kisses Duck’s cheek. The caption is even worse.

“Best man ever. Internet, say hello to my husband. Isn’t he handsome?” Duck reads aloud, Indrid making a prolonged noise of alarm as the phone continues dinging. 

“I’m so sorry, I, I don’t know, I must have been trying to type future husband? Which is still hyperbolic, I was drunk, but it would have been more salvageable.”

“Okay, right, we all done some boneheaded shit havin’ had a few too many, but why the fuck does everyone and their goddamn uncle know?”

“I....I never said my last name last night, did I.”

“No.” Duck’s stomach sours.

“I’m Indrid Cold.”

Duck blinks at him, and even in the midst of the panic he smiles a little.

“I didn’t get the sense you knew of me, which was part of your already considerable charm. I, I am the man you call for your Rolling Stone spread or your Vanity Fair cover, the one magazines fight over to have cover the MET Gala or the Oscars. My social media followers meet the same number as some countries populations, and I am notoriously reclusive and private about my life. Hence the uproar.” He rubs his forehead, “I am fairly certain I just wanted a picture of us; I was having so much fun, you, you made me feel so wonderful and I assumed this would be a fling, and I, I wanted a memento. In my compromised state, I must have misjudged where to put it.” 

“Huh.” Duck stares at his phone, still lighting up with new messages. He’s torn between being flattered and being really, really pissed. 

“I, ah, I will call my publicist and sort things out now. Excuse me.” 

Duck watches Indrid leave. His phone is buzzing with unfamiliar numbers now, and when he answers one it’s a reporter from a fashion site he’s never heard of. 

Indrid is handsome, and intriguing, and Duck desperately wants to see as much of him as he can. But there’s no way in hell he can handle this kind of attention, even if it’s misplaced. So while Indrid speaks, hurried and hushed, in the other room, he slips on yesterday’s clothes and disappears out the door. 

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

He almost doesn’t look at the phone when it buzzes. For starters, he’s at work, but also the last two weeks have made him never want to speak to another living human again. When he pulls it from his pocket and looks at the message a half-dozen emotions hit him at once.

Indrid: I’m fairly certain we exchanged numbers, so I hope this is the right one. Duck, if this is you, I hope you’re well. And if you’re interested, I was wondering if you’d like to meet again.

Duck: Yeah, it’s me. And my answer might be different if I hadn’t spent the last two weeks being hounded by fucking reporters.

Indrid: So my clarification did nothing.

Duck: convinced them there’d been some kind of drama, so now they all want to know if it was a money grab or I’m an escort or some shit like that.

Indrid: I’m sorry, Duck. I’ll make things right, somehow. 

Duck: Don’t do it thinking it’ll get you a second date. Because the thought of that much attention all at once again give me fucking hives.

There’s no response, so Duck jams the phone back into his pocket and trudges up the trail.

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

Alright, maybe following Indrid’s Instagram was a bad idea. Because, unlike any other celeb on the platform, he never posts pictures of himself. Duck just wants to see his face again. 

He looks down, notices four new notifications; an account with only five posts and an icon that’s just two red circles followed him a few days ago, and whoever it belongs to really likes his photos. 

Refreshing the app brings a new post from Indrid, black background with red text.

Mr. Cold invites members of the press to learn how they can gain access to exclusive images and information. 

“Good for him.” Duck mutters, before rolling over and shutting off the light.

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

Duck sits on the pebbled shore by the lake, skipping stones without counting their jumps. He’s off shift, could go home, but some evenings what he likes best is sitting here, watching the world change from afternoon to dusk. 

Someone is coming up the trail and he sighs; hardly anyone comes to this lake, and yet someone has to at the exact same time he’s trying to decompress. 

“It’s even lovelier in person.” 

Pebbles scatter as he spins.

“Indrid, what the fuck are you doing here? Uh, I mean” he scrambles for his words when he sees Indrid wince at the tone, “not that I ain’t happy to see you but...why?”

“I wanted to ask you if you were still being bothered.” The lilt is shy, nearly drowned out by the cicadas.

“Nope. Stopped about a week ago.”

“Ah good. That means my plan worked. You see I, ah, I offered every large press and small freelancer the chance to access never before seen pieces of my work, all for free. In exchange, they signed a contract that they would leave you alone indefinitely, regardless of your relationship to me, and that any writing on me and a partner would only be done with permission from both myself and them. Anyone who violated those clauses would face a very painful lawsuit.”

“You realize that didn’t do much to make people think I meant nothin to you.”

Indrid shrugs, “That was not the point. I wanted them to leave you alone.”

“Oh.” He looks back across the water, watches an Osprey skim the surface, “how’d you know I’d be here?”

“It’s a spot you shoot often, so I showed your friend at the station the photos and she pointed me the right way.”

“...You’re the person who’s been likin all my pictures, ain’t you?”

“Yes. I, ah, you post plenty of yourself, or your friend the Lady Flame tags you, and I, ah, I missed you, I thought about you so much that I wanted to see you. Perhaps that’s, ah, creepy. I thought it better than constantly trying to contact you.”

“Yeah, good call.”

Indrid shifts, awkwardly, “may I sit?”

Duck nods, and Indrid sinks onto the ground next to him.

“You really ain’t dressed for hikin, are you?”

“No. It’s not something I do often, though you make it sound very appealing.”

“We oughta go together then.” He sets his hand, upturned, on the warm rocks in between them.

“I would like that.” Indrid takes it, “perhaps we could go to lunch afterwards.”

“Sounds real nice.” Duck scoots closer, setting their joined hands on his thigh and resting his head on Indrid’s shoulder.

“To be certain I do not make a fool of myself again; are you saying you would like to try dating me?”

“That I would. But you gotta promise one thing.”

“Anything.”

“No pictures until the third date.” He grins and Indrid chuckles, leaning in for a kiss as warm and slow as the setting sun.