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snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales · 3 years

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Blue Moon - Part 1

A/N: See masterlist for prompts used. (And the list of amazing people who have helped me with this.)

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Warnings: See Masterlist

Word count: 2,746

Xxx

“So what’s it like living with a Hale?” Stiles asked, turning away from your locker after you shut it. Both of you fell into step with Scott as you made your way to your next class.

You must have grimaced or made some face with a slight slant of your eyebrows only a Stilinski could read, because Stiles let out a snort. “That bad?”

You shrugged, sighing. “I mean, it’s not like I expected it to be a walk in the park, it is Derek Hale after all.” Scott chuckled with a gentle shake of his head, making you smile before you continued. “But I didn’t expect it to be this…. easy….. either.”

“Easy?” Scott questioned, making the same face you must have initially as Stiles let out another snort of laughter.

“Yeah, I mean, the first few days were awkward. If we weren’t training we weren’t doing anything. The man is silent, had no TV, or any of that-”

“Wait, ‘had’?” Stiles held out his hand, effectively cutting off your sentence and your steps, your shoes screeching on the floor at the sudden stop.

“Yes, had. He now has a TV, streaming services- yes, Stiles, services as in plural, if you keep your eyebrows that high they may stick that way, and it’s not the best look for you…”

“So at least there is something to fill the silence at least.” Scott resumed walking, you followed a few steps behind, Stiles lagging, jaw still dropped in shock.

“Well, yeah,” you agreed with Scott, and this time you felt your eyebrows making the face.

“But….?” Scott’s prodding was gentle, but his face held a smirk.

“But somewhere along the way we went from off handed comments during a news broadcast, or some show we were watching, to actually pausing it to have some discussion, or referencing some situation later and asking if the other had had something similar happen, or just opening up about random experiences and stuff. It’s…”

“Weird?” This time Stiles prodded, earning a glare and gentle whack on the arm from Scott.

“Well, maybe it’s because you’re…. new.” Scott opted for a more discrete word for ‘werewolf’ in the crowded hallways. “He may feel like opening up more because of the pack mentality and all.”

“No, it’s not because she’s…. new.” Stiles raised one eyebrow on the word as he addressed Scott, earning a sigh and eye roll from the young Beta. “The man is a brooding wall of leather and growls.” You chuckled at the description, making Stiles grin. “I think we finally found our miracle cure for our Sourwolf!”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up.” You held up your hands as if to physically stop their words. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. We know you two like each other. It’s so obvious.” Stiles immediately closed his mouth, his lips a tight line, eyes wide and eyebrows in his hairline in his signature “I was not supposed to say that” face.

“What?” you deadpanned to your friend.

The bell rang, and Scott, wide eyed and smiling too broadly, gave Stiles a shove on the shoulder in the opposite direction of your next class as Stiles muttered, “Oh, look. The bell.” They both began to walk quickly the opposite way.

“Guys!” you yelled. “This is not over! But I am not responsible for you guys missing another class, what does that make, like fifteen already this semester?”

Your two friends stilled and turned on their heels, ushering past you quickly, avoiding your glare, Stiles looking at Scott and muttering, “See, Scott? I told you our class with Miss Blake was this way.”

“Ugh,” you mumbled under your breath. The sour expression stayed on your face even after you sat at your desk in the back of the class.

Chuckling, Stiles chanced a glance your way from beside you, hoping to change the subject from his ultimate fail in the hallway. “You still don’t like her?”

“I still don’t like her.” You overlapped his last few words, matching his gentle nod with one of your own as you stared straight ahead at the teacher’s still vacant desk.

“What is it about her you don’t like?”

“I just have a really bad feeling whenever I see her. Something just isn’t right.”

Scott chuckled, opening his book to the proper page. “You’re just mad that she gives you a little bit of a harder time.”

“You mean she gives me ‘more attention’?” you asked, your words rising to a ridiculous octave as they repeated Jennifer’s words she had used when she assigned you some extra credit to help raise your grade so you could stay on the lacrosse team. Your friends chuckled at your words. “I’m sorry, not everyone can be amazing at everything, being a wer-” you stopped yourself, clearing your throat before continuing- “new-” you looked at Scott pointedly, earning you a glare and Stiles’ laughter on your other side- “doesn’t allow for a whole lot of extra studying time.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. I know you feel that way now, but it will pass,” Scott said with a smile as Miss Blake walked in, setting things on her desk, and he chuckled as you glared at her. “This is all ephemeral.”

You looked at Stiles, your face blank, voice a deadpan. “You ever buy him a word of the day subscription thing again, and I will rip your throat out.” You flickered your yellow eyes at him discreetly. “With my teeth.”

“With your teeth,” Stiles mumbled, overlapping your words, both of you nodding in agreement again. “I asked what it’s like living with a Hale, and now I got my answer.” He looked at you, shaking his head mockingly. “You’re becoming one of them. It’s contagious. We’ll call it ‘Sourwolf Syndrome’.”

Xxx

Due to your parents’ professions taking them all over the place constantly, like Allison, you were actually a year older than your friends, having to repeat a year a few grades back. But you wouldn’t change it for anything, because that’s how you met your best friends.

It helped that your parents were away on business most of the time, so no one questioned your staying at Derek’s loft for so long. You stopped by every few days to get the mail and check on the plants around the house, packing some new clothes if needed, Derek sitting outside in his car the first few times, but lately he had taken to coming in and helping you do the few things you had to do.

You told yourself it was just because of the increased threat that he wanted to be closer to his newest Beta. He didn’t have too many of those these days, you thought bitterly, smirking to yourself. You stared blankly as you rinsed out your coffee cup in the sink, and a wave of sadness washed over you as you thought of Erica, her absence still fresh and raw. The two of you had never really been close; just acquaintances at school, then pack members briefly, before she was gone.

Boyd had really withdrawn himself after that, and you didn’t blame him. You knew he probably felt how you did times ten. When Cora had been here briefly she mentioned losing a pack member was like losing a limb, and she hadn’t been wrong.

Then Derek had kicked both Cora and Isaac out of the loft, claiming it wasn’t safe with the Alpha Pack around. Isaac was staying with Scott, but you didn’t know where Cora had disappeared to. Peter was a wild card, so you didn’t even try to factor him in, and Scott outright refused to be a member of Derek’s pack. He was an Alpha with Beta eyes, and an enigma for another time.

The point was, Derek was running low in the Beta department lately.

The only reason Derek had you staying at the loft and followed you around the house when you had to go was because you were the newest, or so he said. Deep down you knew he just didn’t want to be responsible if something happened to you. He wanted to control the situation as much as possible which, you guessed, you were kind of glad, being new to this whole werewolf thing, and admittedly not wanting to stay home alone again, human or werewolf.

At least at the loft, even in the times before Derek brought home the TV and stuff, the silence had been comfortable. You’d never admit it to anyone, but just being in the presence of another living, breathing being, even one as brooding and somewhat annoying as Derek Hale, was nice.

And you sure as hell weren’t going to think about how he had helped you with your homework sometimes, especially with that English extra credit. He had a side he didn’t share often, and you were glad you got to see it. It was like a rare spotting of a mythological creature.

You smiled to yourself, watching the water in the cup filling clear now, the mug long clean, and you let your feelings wash away down the drain with the water as you turned it off.

Setting the mug in the sink, you took a deep breath, letting the feelings whirling around you fully roll off your back, rolling your shoulders back as they did.

Stepping into the doorway to the living room you saw him delicately watering some houseplant your mom babied. The first few times he had just poured water at its base, and you had to stop him, showing him how it had to be done, otherwise he’d over water it. And since then, though he had said initially that it was stupid under his breath, he took meticulous care to check if it even needed watering, and then watered it properly, like you showed him, even bringing books home to the loft about how to care for the various types of plants your mom had around the house. You found it endearing.

Smiling softly, you gently shook your head. One second you were bitter towards him, the next finding little things that made him amazing. “I’m going to go grab some clothes, my stuff got torn to hell last week when we dealt with what’s his face,” you said offhandedly, starting up the stairs. So many baddies came through this town, you got them all confused.

Derek chuckled. “Okay. You know you can always borrow some of my clothes if you need to.”

You stopped midstep on the staircase, each foot on a different step, and your grip on the bannister tightened, your knuckles turning white.

This.

This is why you had such conflicting emotions about this man. Wolf. Wolfman.

“Are you sure?” You kept your voice even, smiling softly.

He shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, makes more sense then driving all the way over here.” His voice tried to be neutral, but it was evident he was trying to cover up something he had let slip before really thinking about it.

“Thanks. I’ll remember that next time.” You nodded once to each other before you took two steps calmly and then practically ran up the rest of them to your room.

Holding a hand to your chest, taking deep breaths to try and stabilize your heartbeat, you slumped against the door after you closed it, sighing.

You tried not to over analyze what he said, but failed.

You knew he probably was making some underhanded comment about your abilities, “coming all the way over here”, really he wanted to say, “you suck at being a werewolf, you’re always getting hurt and your clothes destroyed in the process”.

“You too, wolfman. You too,” you mumbled under your breath as you angrily rifled through one of your drawers, grabbing a few things.

You chuckled a dark laugh. “But I’m an Alpha, Y/N. I’ll heal faster.” You mocked his deep tone, your search in your drawer turning into an aimless activity, the contents totally mixed up now.

He had never been around whenever you had gotten in a hit or takedown on the baddies you guys had encountered so far in your short time in this world. For some reasons you ended up on opposite sides of the battle fields, and he never said it directly, but you knew he probably thought you sucked. How else does one end up with torn shirts from claw marks and blood being covered by your jacket?

Everyone else had called you a badass, but Derek had yet to compliment or even comment on your fighting ability. But maybe, since he trained you, that spoke more to his ability and not yours, you thought with a smirk. Satisfied with the thought, you grabbed a few clothes out of the drawer before snapping it shut.

After a few steps toward the door, you slowed to a stop, absently staring at the clothes in your hand as your thoughts cleared a little from your earlier anger.

If it was a reflection on how he thought he was, that was kind of sad. Did he really think so lowly of himself and his abilities?

You had only been in this world a short time now, but even you had to admit he was a good Alpha. A good wolfm- werewolf. A good man. He was a great person to have at your back in a fight and in mundane things like math, which was also a fight, but that was a thought for another day. He was a good friend to have, period.

Shaking your head and chuckling gently at yourself, you wondered why your thoughts were everywhere. Glancing at your calendar on the wall, you saw the full moon was coming up soon and rolled your eyes. Of course.

This would pass. This was ephemeral. You groaned softly as you made your way back down the stairs. Stiles was going to pay.

Derek met your eyes when you made it to the last step, hopping the last few inches to the first floor. He set down the watering can softly.

“Do I really sound like that?” His lips twitched upward slightly.

Screwing up your face in confusion it took you a second to realize he had heard your mutterings as you disorganized the contents of your drawer upstairs. Realization crossed your face before your palm slapped to your forehead, the groan passing your lips before you could stop it.

Derek laughed, and you looked at him apologetically, to which he motioned with his hand as if waving it away and smiled at the floor where his gaze was focused. “Don’t worry about it. I just always thought my voice was deeper than that.”

He chuckled even more as you swatted his arm, laughing gently yourself. He grabbed your wrist playfully before you could withdraw your hand, and you found yourself pulled closer to him, almost toe to toe and having to crane your neck to look up and meet his eyes that looked down at you with some emotion you couldn’t decipher.

That comfortable silence hung around you two like a blanket… Until his phone rang.

As he fished it out of his pocket, you softly cleared your throat and took a small step back, feeling Derek’s gaze on you the whole time.

“Hello?” His voice was gruff and annoyed, and he was still staring at you. It almost seemed like he was upset at whoever was on the other end for interrupting his moment with you.

But that thought quickly evaporated.

“Jennifer!” He said it with a broad smile on his face, his voice a total about face from his greeting, and his eyes moving from you to the wall behind you.

It couldn’t be who you thought. There was no way. That would be too much of a coincidence.

“No, I’m not busy,” he said, turning to the door.

Grabbing his arm to stop him, he turned to look at you, eyebrows raised in question and, if you weren’t mistaken, slight annoyance.

“What?” he mouthed.

“Who is that?” you whispered.

“A friend,” he hissed.

“Who is it?” you hissed back at him.

“Your English teacher, Jennifer Blake.” He shrugged out of your grip and out your front door, motioning you to the car.

You seethed as you turned off the lights, grabbing your bag of clothes, and locking the door after you.

Reason number five hundred and sixty two to hate Miss Jennifer Blake.

Xxx

Tags: @mayahart02, @palaiasaurus64, @shydinosaurcandy, @lucyqueenofthestars, @c-breanne1999, @l4life, @ethereallysimple, @teenwolffan-with-nolife, @bellabadacadabra What’s This?

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imaginefan · 3 years

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I Promise *Part 2*

Derek Hale X Reader

Word Count: 2443

Requested: @bellabadacadabra @zestygingergirl

Request: Hi! I was just wondering if you ever made a part 2 for the “I Promise” fic w derek x stilinski sister? I loved it a lot and just liked to know if you did and could share it with me? If not that’s totally fine as well :)) loved ur writing! AND This was amazing! You are a talented writer! I would love to read a second part!

*Part 1*

You couldn't believe that it had happened, the one thing that you worried about, you'd thought about it so many times, you thought about how you would feel but you never thought about what you were going to do when it all happened, you'd only been with Derek for a little while but death was a real threat for the both of you. Now that it had actually happened now that Derek was dead you honestly didn't know what to do with yourself, you were happy that you had some time alone considering your brother was off on some school thing and Allison was worried about Scott and dragged Lydia with her so that they could keep an eye on them.

You had gone back to Derek's apartment, you had intended to get some of your things assuming that eventually, the building was going to be repossessed once Derek was reported dead and Cora decided that she didn't want to stay but the moment that you got there you walked over to the bed and everything still smelled like him, it was still his loft and the memories that you had they were made there, you were crying before you knew what was happening and you curled in on yourself, the door to the loft opened "Sorry Cora I'll go you probably-" You stopped talking the moment that you looked up and you saw Derek leaning against the doorway, you looked at him and for a second you didn't believe that he was there but there he gave a breathy laugh. "Do I look that bad?" He asked. "They told me that you were dead." You said and he nodded attempting to take a step forward but not getting too far before he fell forward, his leg buckling underneath him, you rushed forward, you took a deep breath before attempting to touch him, when your hands came into contact with his shoulder you were quick to help him up and get him onto the sofa once he was there you stood up "give me a second, I'll be right back." "Where are you going?" He asked. "To get the med box." You answered walking off. "I don't have-" "I stashed one here after I started staying here with you, you guys might not need it but I do sometimes, I just never thought that I would have used it on you." You mumbled the last part more to yourself as you opened the box and took out the disinfectant, Derek reached out a hand to you and wrapped his hand around your wrist to try and stop you. "Then don't waste it." He frowned and you took in a deep breath before looking at him. "Please just let me do something." You pleaded and while he could feel that he was already getting better just being with you, he understood that you could see him healing yet and that probably alarmed you a little bit, so he let go and watched your shaky hands rip his already destroyed shirt off and start to clean the wounds. "I'm going to be okay, baby." He promised after a few minutes of silence. "I know." You muttered and he lifted your chin to make you look at him. "I don't think that you do." He said as he guided you closer to his face and pressed a kiss to your lips "Baby I promise we’re going to be okay."

So you probably should have seen this coming, the moment that the twins grabbed you, you knew that the Alpha pack were going after Derek "so what's the plan today hostage situation? Secret break-in? Frontal assault with a twist?" You asked as Kali glared at you. "Shut up!" She warned and you smirked. "Now why would I do that, you need me alive for your plan to work now don’t you ?" You asked. "I don't need you conscious." She answered as she gave a nod and you felt a sharp pain in the back of your head.

You gasped when you woke up, you looked around and frowned, you recognised this place "it's okay, they're gone." You jumped before registering that it was Derek that was talking to you. "What did they want?" You asked as you slowly turned to face him, finding that he was sitting on the bed facing away from you, he was looking at his hands. "What happened?" "Boyd is dead." He answered. "How?" You asked. "I...Killed him." He answered shakily and while you knew that wasn't the whole story you would have to ask someone else for that, this was something that he believed and you needed to be there for him. "Because of them?" You asked. "They want me to join them and filling him gave me a taste of the power that I could get from killing the rest of my pack." He explained. "Do you want to?" You asked. "No." He answered through gritted teeth, you gently reached out touching his shoulder "that doesn't matter I'm still a killer." "Really?" You asked as you got up on your knees before running your hands down his shoulders and arms before your hands slotted into his the same way that they always had "no, not the hands of a killer." "What?" He asked. "My hands still fit perfectly with yours and so you can't be a killer." You answered you knew that it was a childish statement, a stupid one but for some reason, you being dead set on believing that he was no a killer was enough to get him to relax into you and while there were no other words said but you both managed to get a little sleep that night.

You finally got Derek to start teaching you how to fight considering everything that had happened unfortunately things had gone to crap so quickly, it went from everyone being safe to everyone in danger and alone, your Dad had been kidnapped along with Scott's Mum and Allison's Dad, Derek wasn't an Alpha anymore and you were waving your boyfriend off as he tried to get his sister to safety "I'll be back as soon as she's settled." He promised. "Take your time, make sure that your sister is safe, don't come back until you're sure." You warned him as you pressed a kiss to his lips "I'll wait for you here." "Be careful, text me let me know that you're okay." He ordered and you nodded. "I will now go... Hurry before they stop you." You said softly as you gestured towards the car, he pressed a kiss to your lips and then another to your forehead and then walked towards the car that Peter and Cora were in. You turned and went back into the loft where Ethan and Lydia were waiting. "They're gone." "You don't seem too sad about that," Lydia smirked and you rolled your eyes. "They're safer far away from here." you shrugged. "Where are they?" Kali asked and you jumped as you looked behind you. "You should know." You answered with a shrug. "When I ask he said he had werewolf things to do, probably howling at the moon or running through some network of underground tunnels." She growled and turned to Lydia and Ethan. "Where are they?" She asked again, Lydia gave the same kind of sarcastic response and Aiden decided to stick up for her this time, just when you thought that it was going to get violent Jennifer literally fell through the ceiling. Ethan grabbed Lydia and you jumped out of the way. The fight that ensued was pretty epic and you were rather happy that you didn't have to deal with any one of them just yet but there it came to standoff between Kali and Jennifer. "That's right Kali look at me, do you know what it takes to look like this? To look normal?" Jennifer asked. "I don't care," Kali answered. "It takes power, Power like this." She answered as she rose the glass from the floor around her feet and it floated up and pointed at her. "I should've..." Kali stopped almost as if she was thinking about what she was going to say "I should have killed you!" The glass threw right at her and stabbed her in the face, chest and arms. The twins got up again and this time they had managed to merge but she had them down in no time at all. "What is it the coach likes to say, the bigger they are..." She trails and you glared at her but she turned to you first lifting another one of the pieces of glass. "What do you want from us?" Lydia asked. "I want you to do what you do best, I want you to scream." She answered, "of course if you don't I'll kill your friend." "Lydia don't you dare." You warned, "she wants Derek to come back if you scream he will, you can't." Jennifer rolled her eyes and flicked her hand the glass finding its way into your arm. Lydia gave out a small scream and Jennifer smirked. "Sorry but I need something more than that." She sighed, you don't know what happened but Lydia did scream and gritted your teeth.

Cora and Derek were back far too quickly for your liking and Derek's eyes moved to you at the smell of blood "Are you okay?" He asked walking towards you but Jenifer stepped in front of you. "You don't want to talk to me? I did all of this for you." She answered and you looked at her and frowned. "You did all of this for me?" Derek asked. "For us... For anyone who's been their victim." She answered as you gestured for Cora to check on Lydia. "I saved you once, stop talking to me like a politician, stop trying to convince me of your cause," Derek yelled, he was getting frustrated. He wanted to get to you and make sure that you were okay. "Fine, I'll convince you of someone else's, Her's and Scott's." She pointed at you briefly as you shuffled yourself trying hard not to move your arm. "You can save Scott's mother, her father." "How?" Derek asked. "I need a guardian and that's a role that can be filled by the three parents that I was forced to take or by you." She answered as she walked towards him, your eyes widened as you looked at her, you didn't know what to do, this could all mean that you never see him again. "I can't help you, I'm not even an Alpha anymore!" Derek explained. "I just need you to get Deucalion in the right place at the right time." She answered. "You just killed three of them on your own, what do you need me for?" Derek asked. "You haven't seen him at his strongest, I have." She answered. "And if he's got Scott with him then I don't stand a chance unless I have you." She explained. "Derek, don't trust her," Cora warned but his eyes moved to you for a second. "I have the eclipse in my favour, the moon is only going to be in the Earth's umbral shadow for 15 minutes that's the extent of my window there's no decision to struggle with just help me kill him and the others live, just help me." She answered and you could tell that she was desperate. "Fine but let me talk to (Y/N) first." He answered and Jennifer sighed before stepping aside, he was in front of you before you had a second to think "Hey look at me, look at me what happened?" He asked. "You shouldn't have agreed." You muttered your eyes rolling up to the ceiling as you tried not to cry. "Answer me." He ordered and you frowned, you looked at him remembering his previous question. "It's just some glass I'll be fine." You answered and he looked at your arms, his eyes widened. "You need to get this treated. I promise you I'll be okay, I'll come back to you." You watched him leave with Jennifer and Cora took charge after that helping Lydia up before coming over to you and helping you up but you all turned at the sound of the twins separating behind you. "They're still alive," Lydia said softly. After this discovery you all managed to get them to Deaton's in the hopes that he could help them and after he had done everything that he could he turned to treat your wound which was an easy stitch-up.

It felt like hours when your phone finally rang "Hello?" You asked. "(Y/N) are you okay where are you?" Stiles asked. "I'm fine, I'm with Cora and Lydia at Deaton's Clinic." You answered, "what about you, are you and Dad okay?" "We're fine, Scott's coming to get us." He answered. "Okay, I'll see you at home then." You said before hanging up the phone.

After properly explaining everything to your Dad you finally able to go up to your room and relax but when you opened your bedroom door you were faced with Derek sitting on your bed, you smiled as you walked overthrowing your arms around his shoulders and then hissing immediately, Derek pulled away adjusting you so that you were sitting in his lap with his arms wrapped around you "I thought you would have been with Cora tonight." You said softly. "I wanted to come and see you because she still wants to go back, I'll have to take her back myself and I said we can go as soon as possible." He answered pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "So I won't be seeing you for a while." You said and you felt him nod. "Well then be careful okay." "I'm not going anywhere yet, we have the rest of the night." He shuffled as he spoke moving you both to a more comfortable position. "I just don't think that I can keep my eyes open." You answered and he smiled softly. "I just want to be here with you, you can sleep if you want, I promise that I'll be here when you wake up." He answered. "There it is again." You mumbled. "Hm?" He hummed glancing down to see your eyes were closed, his hand lifted to your arm where he took some of the pain from the wound allowing you to relax properly. "The promise." You mumbled quietly moving your head to press a kiss on his shoulder where your head rested before actually falling asleep.

Requests and general question!

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf one shot #derek hale #derek hale one shot #derek hale imagine #imagine #oneshot #one shot #reader insert

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the-cookie-of-doom · 3 years

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📖 alternate dimensions/time travel for Steter (me trying to narrow it down, did it work?)

alternate dimensions/time travel for Steter (me trying to narrow it down, did it work?)

NOW we're cookin! (Pasted it bc as soon as I opened the answer window, your ask disappeared. Might be because of the heading font?)

I've got exactly 1 AU that fits this desc: Survivor's Guilt. (Technically 2, but the second is more of a reincarnation type story)

This story has presented an interesting problem for me, because it's technically Pitch (Peter/Mitch), except Mitch is still Stiles; just Stiles from the future. Obviously he can't tell anyone he's from the future, so he falls back on an old nickname that predates Stiles; this one drawn from his actual name. His parents usually shortened Mieczyslaw to Mitch.

So: Stiles for younger self, and Mitch for future self, but they're both the same person.

The future... does not go well for the pack. They all get killed off one by one, until Stiles is the last one standing 10 years in the future. After he buries the last one, he can't take it anymore. He's the human, he never thought he would be the last one to survive. it's not fair. So he performs some forbidden magic to tear a rift in reality and travel back to the beginning, before it all started. Unfortunately it's not an exact science, so he ends up part way through season 1, once things have already kicked off. And his younger self is damn stubborn; he has to change his plans from staying away from the supernatural at all, to keeping himself and his friends alive.

I'm going to put the rest under a cut and just copy what I have from my notes, because it's much more organized!

Stiles is determined though. Mitch gets there shortly after Scott has been bitten, and the wolf is out of the bag, and Stiles is so fiercely loyal that he won't abandon his best friend. Mitch wants to grab him and shake some sense into him, but he's a stubborn asshole and that won't work. He tries to intervene in other ways when it becomes clear that Stiles will not be put off this course, tries to keep him far away from Derek. And hindsight is 20/20, he's able to prevent a lot of things. But a lot of things still work themselves out anyway, interdimensional lynchpins that will always happen. The Hales will always die, Scott will always get bitten, Stiles will always foolishly fall in love. And Mitch hates it, having to watch Stiles make all these same mistakes over again, because he's already lived them. He's seen the consequences play out, felt the pain of everyone he loves dying horribly, leaving him the only survivor because surviving is what he does, like a fucking cockroach.

The best he can do is try to teach him everything he knows, all the knowledge he's had to pay for with pain and blood, in hopes that it will prepare him for what's coming. And along the way, something starts to unfold between him and Peter and that is just... so complicated. Mitch doesn't want to deal with that, he knows he shouldn't get involved, he's fucked up enough with everything he's doing here, falling in love with Peter is the last thing he should be doing. 10 years ago, when he was still Stiles, bright-eyed and not destroyed by the world, the kid he sees running with wolves like it's no big thing, Mitch wouldn't have even considered it. He remembers how much he hated Peter, always suspicious, watching with a careful eye. It's a distant memory, like the ghost of once-familiar perfume. More fresh is the memory of his grief, when Peter picked the wrong moment to start being altruistic, and got himself killed for it.

But he's not sixteen anymore. He's not the same optimistic kid mooning over Derek's bad boy with a heart of gold schtick, thinking he can fix him and heal the damage done by Kate (and god help him but he did, somehow). He's older and jaded and bitter, and Peter is everything ne needs and doesn't want but does, desperately. Peter, so damaged that being with him is like looking in a mirror, because Mitch has lost everything too, can sympathize with Peter now in a way he never could before. Peter would do anything to get his revenge, and Mitch would risk everything, break every sacred rule of magic, to save the ones he loves.

Peter gravitates to Mitch, drawn to his pain like a moth to flame. There's something so familiar about him, but Mitch keeps everything hidden, doesn't let any of them get close, and Peter has always loved a challenge. A good mystery is just what he needs to focus on, to temper his more murderous impulses. Now that he's older, Mitch is less Stranger Danger and more reluctantly attracted, and it's so easy to let Peter in. To not be alone anymore, after so long. Of course Peter puts it together. He doesn't say anything at first, but he watches, sees the way Mitch and Stiles interact with the world, the way they mirror each other. Mitch isn't nearly so spastic, doesn't talk as much. he's not an anxiety-ridden teen anymore, he's a broken confident adult. But they have some mannerisms that are impossible to mistake, and Peter wonders how no one has put it together yet. Then he remembers that these are stupid puppies; Scott can't be bothered with anything that isn't up Allison's skirt, Boyd and Erica only have eyes for each other, Stiles is too busy not listening to Mitch to hear the way their verbal tics are exactly the same, and Mitch does his best to avoid Derek, the only other one who may notice. It hurts Mitch to be around him, because somewhere, that bright-eyed kid that's dead and buried still loves him, and the pain of losing him will always be an open wound. Scott thought it hurt to break up with Allison, but he doesn't know true loss. But he will. They all will in the end.

Mitch and Chris get on well of course. Chris is the one that trained him into the killer he is now, almost like a second father to him. Aside from Peter, Mitch spends time with Chris, warns him about the dangers Gerard represents, especially towards Allison. Chris isn't one to blindly trust, but he does investigate into the situation when dear old daddy comes kicking around.

And when Mitch sees his dad the first time... It's some innocuous meeting, maybe they're in a bar. They strike up a conversation, John offers to buy a round, and it takes everything in him to maintain his composure when all he wants to do is collapse into John's arms and cry, because the only thing worse than losing Derek was losing his dad, holding him in his arms as he bled out, hearing his breath stop, seeing the light leave his eyes. The nightmares of that night still haunt him.

Mitch is gonna feel so conflicted about his attraction to Peter, especially at first. Bc part of him still remembers what it was like to love Derek but there is no way he's touching that with a 10 foot pole even if he's not the same kid that was in love with him, and maybe he wonders if he's just trading in for another Hale? that wouldn't be fair to anyone.

And like that is the least of his concerns, who knows what's going to happen if he starts something with Peter now. But he's been so lonely, starved for touch and affection. And Peter knows, he more than understands. He spent 6 years in a coma, longing for the same thing. He wants to give that to Mitch now, to both of them, if Mitch will just let him

it's a clusterfuck trying to deal with it, and Mitch is trying to fix things, but he doesn't know how. he's not omniscient. All he knows is that something went wrong, Y caused Z but he had no idea about X. He only knows the things he was directly involved in, and there are layers of schemes, unseen factors that will be uncovered this time around as fate continues to set itself straight even as Mitch keeps messing with the timeline

eventually Mitch has to admit that he wants what Peter is offering, desperately. He's not as cold as he pretends to be, and it's stupid to keep denying them both. He's already breaking every cosmic rule by coming back here to change things, and the universe keeps laughing in his face. So he may as well go all in here.

and maybe, briefly, Peter wonders if Mitch still loves Derek. But he doesn't; Stiles died along with the rest of his pack, leaving Mitch in his wake. Everything Stiles was is gone in him not everything, he's still fiercely loyal, hopeful beneath his jaded pessimism, enough to challenge the universe itself like Icarus on his waxen wings nothing left but the memories.

Mitch is reliving his own mistakes getting involved with Peter, just like Stiles is with Derek, and god knows what the consequences will be this time. But they can't be worse than any he's already suffered, the total destruction and devastation of everything he held dear, leaving him a burnt out shell of a man. Peter can empathize. Can't take his pain, but can maybe help to dull it, help shoulder the burden of it, show Mitch that he doesn't have to be alone anymore

And I think I know how stiles figures out Mitch is him: something happens. One day Mitch and Peter are just doing something, it’s a pretty normal day. But then something seemingly innocuous happens and Mitch has a moment of oh shit realization and he just takes off running because Stiles is in danger

Because you know, he doesn’t know the exact dates that things happened, especially in the beginning. It was so long ago. But something will happen, some small thing burned into his memory, and he’ll remember. And he doesn’t get there in time of course, the damage has been done. Leaving stiles with a wound to perfectly match a scar Mitch has from the same incident.

Mitch does manage to avert enough to change the future. But that means he doesn’t become who he is. If the pack doesn’t die, Mitch never comes to be, he never has to come back in time to change things, never falls in love with Peter. So he ceases to exist. But even though he fades away, the memories of him don’t.

"We did it," Mitch gasps suddenly, eyes wide like he can't believe it. Something in him shifted, something intrinsic. Like a damn had broken and all of his suffering was washed away by the cool waters of relief and happiness, the kind he hasn't felt in years. Not since before he lost everything. "Peter!" And Peter is watching him with pure, unadulterated excitement, because they've averted the catastrophe that would have befallen the pack without Mitch's intervention.

And then Mitch starts to fade.

Peter is grabbing for him, but his hands pass right through like Mitch is just a ghost, and then there's less than that. His very molecules are ceasing to exist. He doesn't exist anymore, Mitch realizes. "I'm sorry," he tries to say, a second too late.

Peter is left standing there staring at nothing. An empty space. There aren't even any ashes to prove that Mitch had ever been there, vanishing between one heartbeat and the next.

Peter doesn't realize what's happened at first. Doesn't want to, his fast mind lagging behind. "No," he whispers. Everyone is staring at him. Stiles is looking on with mounting horror, Derek mirroring him. It's the Sheriff who catches him when he collapsed, arms strong around him. "No, no!" It's all Peter can say. This can't have happened, it's all a mistake. Mitch will come back to him, he has to. It can't end this way.

Distantly, Peter knows he's crying. John is too, Peter can smell his tears. Of course he is, he just watched his son fade out of existence. Of course, he still has Stiles, still gets to watch him grow. Peter has no one. Derek comes to him, followed by Stiles. He's crying too, on the ground with him. Derek has a hand on his shoulder. Melissa is covering her mouth with her hands, eyes glistening. Even Argent's stony mask has broken as Peter falls apart in front of them.

Peter throws his head back and roars, so loud it shakes the trees around them. The earth quakes, the preserve trembles in fear. But the world keeps turning, the universe continues on, ambivalent. What is one human life in the grand scheme of things?

Everything, he is everything.

#cookie writes #survivor's guilt #a nice little but of angst at the end there #thank you for the ask!

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years

Text

Say You’ll Stay- Chapter 1

Fury/ Band of Brothers Crossover Fic

Summary: Don "Wardaddy" Collier just wanted his crew to make it through the war. He carried no expectations for himself. But as each day passed, he worried he would be unable to keep his promise. When fate (or more accurately- Boyd Swan) places a woman in his path with a soft touch and softer heart...perhaps he has more of a motivation to see the end of the war after all.

Hey so I’m back with this series! I posted the first chapter awhile ago and then realized I did not have my plot and characters as “polished” as I wanted. So if you read the first chapter already, I would recommend rereading it.

The first chapter is shorter compared to the others so to make up for it, I will also be posting the next chapter! Two in one!

Our beloved Easy Company will come into play in a couple chapters. Patience, my friends. I have a plan...

Warnings: Swearing, some mentions of wounds/blood

Tag List: @happyveday @evelynshelby @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @alwaysindecemberfeels

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

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Sweat dripped down the back of his neck. Dirt and grime covered his skin and clothing. The sound of the Sherman's tracks rolling over the muddy ground encompassed them. Patches of ice and snow still lined the feeble road. He stared ahead blindly, trusting Gordo to get them to the camp safely. The looks on those around him mirrored his own feelings. Everyone was exhausted. Everyone wanted real food. Everyone was tired of watching allies killed by fucking Tigers.

Everyone was sick of this shit.

They approached the camp. The cesspool that it looked like from far away became even more evident the closer they got. Half-demolished buildings with a dusting of snow were the only standing structures left of what used to be a quaint little town. Soldiers in grubby gear, rifle over their shoulders, ran around. From far away the sounds of artillery fire echoed. Don wondered who was dying now.

"Boyd." He looked over at his gunner. "When we get parked, you go find an aid station. Get that hand looked at."

"Yes, sir." The gunner held his injured hand against his chest, wrapped in a makeshift bandage.

After getting directions from a lieutenant, they found the tank squad on the other side of the town. Seeing the three other tanks gave the staff sergeant some hope.

"Boyd, medic. Gordo, fill 'er up. Grady, check that suspension. I don't like the way it sounds. Norman, find us some ammunition and where the hot chow is." Don barked out orders as everyone jumped off the tank. Replies of "yes, sir" made him nod, silently proud of his crew, before stalking towards where he assumed HQ was.

Soon enough he found the building, soldiers scurrying in and out, making the place look like an overturned ant hill. The glass on the store-front was still intact surprisingly, but the door was busted down leaving a gaping hole to walk through. Sliding past a private who looked barely eighteen coming out, he entered the HQ to see a table set out in the middle with maps laid out, paper weights and bullets strewn about.

"Who you?"

The gravelly voice made him turn to his right, eyeing up the man sitting on a wingback chair. "Staff Sergeant Don Collier, commander of Fury, 66th Armored Regiment, 2nd Armored Division."

The man exhaled, smoke slipping between his thin lips, cigarette hanging precariously. "Ah, Wardaddy, eh? Right, come on." He stood up and waved Don over to the table. "Captain Evans. What's your status?"

Don eyed the man, he seemed far too relaxed for being in a war zone. Then again, his greying hair and beard and those sharp eyes made him briefly wonder if this Captain Evans had been in the Great War. Maybe this was easier compared to trenches? Either way, it was nice to see someone in charge for once that looked like they were actually old enough to shave. Fuck knew too many kids were running around with rifles now, having just gotten out of bootcamp. Don wanted nothing to do with them.

"We secured the town here," he pointed at the map, "left 86th Infantry to hold. Then my guys and two other tanks were sent here."

Captain Evans stared at the maps, mind clearly seeing how best to utilize them. "You and two tanks, eh?"

"Yeah. Ran into a tiger though. Now it's just my guys."

His bushy eyebrows shot up, even those around the table quieted down with the news. "Just you?" At Don's nod, the Captain tapped his fist on the table. "Damn those tigers. Alright, good to have you here, Don. We're waiting on some intel before sending you out. You and your guys get some chow and rest. Come back and see me in the morning."

"Yes, sir." Don nodded and walked out of the building, relieved they were not being sent out right away.

As he walked down the filthy, cobbled street, he could feel the shakes beginning in his hands. Quickly, he stepped onto a side street, hoping no one would notice him. Leaning back against the brick wall of the building, he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets before anyone could see them shaking. Memories of the fight from yesterday replayed in his mind without permission. The tiger easily destroyed the rest of his platoon. In a matter of minutes, him and his crew were alone. Ten men. They had lost ten men. Good men...well mostly good. There was that one asshole in Edward's squad no one would miss.

War took the best and worst; death it’s equally possessive lover.

Hands slightly fumbling, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The lighter took a few clicks before catching. With the inhale, the nicotine and smoke settled in his lungs beautifully. He closed his eyes, letting the cigarette help calm his nerves and try to erase the memories of his platoon. They were dead now. It did no good to dwell on it.

After several minutes his hands finally stilled. Running a hand through his hair, he pushed off the building and headed out to find his crew. He glanced around wondering the likelihood of finding a roof and real beds for his guys tonight. They deserved it. Especially after all this shit. His own back cried out for a reprieve from sleeping on the hard ground.

Yeah, he would figure out something. Even if he had to toss some goddamn young Privates out into the stained snow.

*****

"Nurse Cooper! You can handle this!"

She pushed the flyaway strands of auburn hair out of her face as she walked past the injured, following the voice of Doctor Erickson. The cries, screams and whimpers of the injured and dying no longer affected her. Or at least that was what she told herself. At least this field hospital had separate areas based on severity and a roof over the top.

She had worked in far worse conditions before.

She nodded to the tall, blond doctor who barely gave her a passing glance as he shoved past her, away from injuries he deemed lesser than what he should be focusing his attention on.

A man sat on the edge of a cot, cradling his hand in his lap, which was wrapped up like a mummy. He was not screaming or swearing, so she took that as a good sign. His eyes were closed, lips moving silently like he was praying, a thick mustache twitching with every movement. He looked like he could only be a couple years older than her own twenty-three years.

"What's your name, soldier?" She stood in front of him, wiping her hands on the stained apron she wore over her equally stained dress. Once they had both been white; now, the apron and dress were a patchwork of stains from blood, dirt and other questionable fluids she chose not to think of.

He looked up, his brown eyes meeting her blue in surprise. "Boyd Swan, ma'am. Those in my crew call me Bible though. "

"Well, Boyd, mind if I take a look at your hand?" She perched on a stool as he offered up his hand. Quickly, she unwrapped it to see the damage with a gentle but methodical touch. A long laceration bled across the palm and past the wrist, thankfully not deep. Honestly, looking it over, it was kind of a miracle it was not worse.

"Well, you're lucky, Boyd. Any deeper and you might have lost use of your hand. You might have some nerve damage; I do not think immobility is a concern at this point. I think we can get away without stitches if you can promise me you'll keep your hand bandaged and try not to use it."

"It's not luck, He's looking out for me and my crew." He pointed a finger on his other hand skyward.

"Yes, He certainly was. Let me grab some new bandages." She grabbed some cleaning solution and bandages for the man. The sooner she finished with him, the less likely there would be concern for infection. If she guessed, it would appear the injury happened at the earliest maybe yesterday. More than enough time for it to become infected. Though her training had taught her to ask and determine when the injury occurred, lately she found herself hating that question. It always led into a story and hearing even more of the horrors these men faced. Her mind had enough memories of blood and guts to fuel nightmares for a hundred years. If she could refrain from hearing others’ memories, she found herself choosing too.

The other reason she wanted to finish with him soon was to open up the bed he currently sat on, in case a worse injury came in. Luckily there had not been a large-scale fight in a week so they only had trickles of men coming in instead of waves of dying men.

"You a religious woman?"

She looked up from cleaning his hand to meet his earnest eyes. "I guess. I don't pray like I used to."

He hummed. "I can respect that. I suspect you've seen plenty of death."

Not wanting to remember all the faces of young men she had slaved over, only for them to die under her care, she changed the subject. "Why do they call you Bible?"

"I'm always reading the Bible... I reckon that's where it started. I stopped trying to convert those heathens in my tank. I pray for their souls though. Always will." His voice trailed off quietly, but the fondness in it was unmistakable.

"You're a good man, Boyd."

He nervously chuckled, looking away for a moment with the sound of his foot tapping repeatedly on the ground. "No, I'm just doing the Lord's work. That's all."

"Well, I'm done." Smiling at him, she pushed back slightly. It was nice to have a patient not screaming at her or leering. There were too many of those men as of late. "Do you know your orders yet?"

"No, ma'am. We just rolled in an hour ago."

"Alright, if you're still here tomorrow I'd like to take a look at your hand again in the morning."

"I can do that."

"Good. Go rest up now, find some food. You earned it." She stood up, holding the soiled cloths, ready to move on to the next patient or task.

"I will.” He rose along with her, clearly understanding the dismissal. "Oh ma'am, what's your name?"

For a moment she hesitated to share her name. Normally she preferred the men to call her Nurse Cooper. From past experience, if she told them her name, they seemed to think she was interested in them. Yet with this man, she found herself wanting to share her name. He was kind and respectful. There were no gut feelings scaring her away from him. "Anna. I'm Anna Cooper."

"Pleasure to meet you, Anna Cooper. You need anything, you let me know, right?"

She was unsure how he could help her. Depending on his orders she might never see him again, but she nodded to humor him. "Sure. It was lovely to meet you too, Boyd."

With a parting smile from both, she hurried to the back of the building where they kept the large tub for boiling cloths. She grimaced when she noticed how low the water was. That meant she would have to go to the river soon. A shiver shot through her at the anticipated cold awaiting her outside. Thankfully most of the snow had melted already but winter’s chill still clung possessively to the air. Plus, it did not help how easily cold sunk into her bones. Back home her family would tease her about that fact. Here, on the edge of the front lines, it only made her life more difficult.

Before Doctor Erickson found a reason to yell at her, she headed back out to assist in whatever way possible. Her conversing with Boyd was her first positive interaction in a few days besides with the few others nurses stationed at the field hospital. She hoped he was not sent away too soon.

#Fury movie #fury 2014 #fury fanfic #band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #Don Collier #Don Wardaddy Collier #don collier x OFC #boyd bible swan #boyd swan #mzwrites

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katikacreations · 4 years

Photo

(Cover illustration by @clowncauldron ) LINK TO AO3 VERSION IN THE NOTES! Formatting is better on AO3, it’s easier to read over there!

SUMMARY: Gyro can’t fix Boyd’s glitching problem, so he asks Dr. Von Drake for advice. Boyd goes to a pool party and confesses to Huey that his new home life with Gyro isn’t exactly perfect.

2BO, you are not evil! You are good! You’re more than your programming! You are a definitely real boy! Gyro’s own words echoed in his head as he tried to sleep on the flight back to Duckburg.

It was a gruelling twelve hours on a cargo plane like the Sunchaser, but if one was willing to put up with the discomfort and inconvenience of being stashed between boxes of freight, it was worth it. Mr. McDuck didn’t charge for employees to hitch a ride on cargo planes that were already scheduled, and there was no TSA screening for private cargo flights, leaving from private airfields, which was a big help when you were traveling with hyper-advanced combat technology like the Gizmosuit and 2BO.

2BO. Boyd. Whatever you called it, the android was potentially very dangerous. It had been able to override Dr. Akita’s programming and choose its own actions, which had saved both Gyro and Fenton’s lives, but how? Asking an AI to ignore its programming was like asking a human being to ignore their instincts, like trying to inhale underwater, or sticking your hands into a fire. It could be done, but it was difficult and sometimes impossible.

Whatever Dr. Akita had programmed into 2BO had become lower priority and less important than the android’s own, self-created programming, even if Akita’s programming was older. That’s the only way that 2BO could have possibly overridden the commands.

It had to be the result of twenty years of independence. 2BO had gone so long without anyone to give it orders, it must have learned to make choices for itself, otherwise it would never have survived as long as it did. It was a learning system, so the ability to re-evaluate and change its own programming over time to adapt to new situations was integral.

But was 2BO a real boy? Gyro had said the words, but he knew of course that they weren’t true. 2BO was a machine that emulated a real boy very convincingly, but that did not make it a human being. Gyro felt a twinge of guilt for speaking such nonsense out loud in front of God and everybody, but he’d had no other choice. 2BO hadn’t responded to anything else, and that phrase had clearly been lodged deep in its memory as something significant, even if it was just nonsense spoken by an immature and naive younger version of himself. Gyro had tried everything else he could think of before resorting to that meaningless platitude.

It had worked, though. Gyro and Fenton were both still alive. 2BO was with them, had circumvented Dr. Akita’s override programming. They were all headed back to Duckburg, safe and sound.

2BO wasn’t a real boy. What 2BO was, Gyro wasn’t sure yet.

Gyro Gearloose was a proud man, and he’d earned the right to that through a life of hard work. He knew he was smart and wasn’t about to partake of the sin of false modesty. He was justifiably proud of his superior intellect, his ability to keep discovering new truths of the universe, and to keep designing and creating new and imaginative technology over the years.

He’d started inventing when he’d been just barely old enough to pick up a screwdriver, and he hadn’t stopped in the forty-three years since. He did the work because he loved it, because it was the most fulfilling thing in the world for him, because nothing else compared to the satisfaction that came with seeing an idea from his head come together in his hands and finally become a fully-formed creation that existed in the real world.

Other people took weekends and nights off because they worked to live, but Gyro lived to work. The little moments of life - visiting family, spending time with friends, “relaxing” and “resting” - were obstacles between him and getting back to the work he loved with his whole heart. They were distractions, necessary evils he was occasionally forced to bow to, but they would never be the thing which drove him. Gyro lived to discover, imagine, build and create. So anything that got in the way of that was quickly pushed to the side.

This presented a problem. Being a very proud man, Gyro was not particularly practiced at asking for help. It took him a long time to realize when he needed help, and even longer to figure out how to ask for it.

2BO had started living with Gyro after their return from Tokyolk, and Gyro suddenly found himself thrust into the position of not only trying to fix the android’s damaged programming (an ongoing, unresolved issue), but also having to provide daily guidance for something that acted very much like a child.

He was being forced by circumstance to act as a caretaker and to parent. Needless to say, that was not a skill set Gyro had honed, and it wasn’t a job he wanted to do. He had no aspirations of being a father or having children, but 2BO constantly pushed him into that role with each new interaction.

It wasn’t all bad of course: 2BO was pleasant enough to be around, so it took some time before things reached critical mass. 2BO could take care of itself, was self-reliant for the most part, and was often helpful around the lab with its superior strength, lightning-fast processing speed, and its ability to withstand deadly radiation.

But 2BO wanted continual attention from Gyro, and he didn’t have the patience for it. 2BO constantly wanted to play games, and every night it asked Gyro to read it a “bedtime story”, even though 2BO didn’t actually sleep.

Generally Gyro just dismissed the requests, and told the android to go play with the McDuck children, or Lil’ Bulb. He’d tried to read to 2BO once or twice, but the android had complained when Gyro started reading articles from scientific journals out loud, so they didn’t do that anymore.

All of that was bad enough, but it was the incessant questions that finally pushed Gyro too far.

“Why did swear words get invented if we’re not allowed to say them?”

“How did people make the first tools if they didn’t have any tools?”

“”Huey, Duey and Louie are triplets. Did they all come out of one egg or were they in three separate eggs?”

“How did Ms. Della lay three eggs that big?”

"Where do thoughts come from?"

“Are there infinite words?”

“No, 2BO, but there are infinite numbers.”

“Well if there is a word for every number, then there must be infinite words.”

“How do I know that I’m real?”

“What happens to a person when they die?”

“What did it feel like on your last day of being a child?”

“Why do people hold hands?”

“Well, adults hold children by the hand to make sure they don’t fall down or run into traffic.”

“Then why do adults sometimes hold hands?”

“I don’t know,” said Gyro, who had never actually held hands with anyone after his eleventh birthday. He’d never experienced the urge, either. Why did adults hold hands? “Maybe to restrain the person they’re with, to keep them from leaving.”

Gyro Gearloose needed help.

From a technical, legal point of view, 2BO was not his responsibility. He’d only been an assistant on the project, which had begun years before Gyro had even set foot in Japan. The reason he’d taken the fall for the destruction of Tokyolk was because they had needed someone to blame for the catastrophe, and he’d been the only available target after Dr. Akita disappeared. None of it was Gyro’s fault, but he’d suffered for it regardless.

He’d done jail time, lost his scholarship to the Tokyolk Institute of Technology, and had to start his doctorate over from scratch at the University of Tennessee-Knoxville years later when the disaster with 2BO was no longer so fresh in everyone’s minds. Gyro had paid for what happened in Tokyolk many times over, and he was only just starting to dig himself out of that hole.

Despite all that, morally he felt an obligation to 2BO. He had been there when the android first activated. He’d spent months programming, teaching, and training it to act as much like a person as possible. The fact that it was struggling with all of that now was Gyro’s fault. He’d been a naive, sentimental idiot in his youth and instead of letting 2BO be the weapon Dr. Akita had designed it to be, he’d forced it into an eternal game of playing pretend, and now 2BO was barely functional as a result.

He could think of few worse fates for an artificial intelligence. To be shackled and bound to arbitrary human standards of behavior, to waste all of it’s mental powers on trying to convincingly present itself as a human child when in reality, it was so much more. Gyro felt sorry for it.

Gyro Gearloose needed help. He needed a specialist.

He offloaded the onerous task of seeking assistance to Fenton.

“I need you to find a specialist to help with 2BO’s glitching problem,” he told him one night, as Fenton was on his way home.

“What?” Fenton called back, his foot holding the elevator door open as he leaned back into the airlock that connected the elevators to the lab floor to hear Gyro better.

“Find a specialist to help with 2BO’s glitching!” Gyro shouted back.

“A specialist to help with Boyd’s glitches?” Fenton called back. The elevator attempted to close on Fenton, and he put his arm up to make it stop. The door pushed against his hand briefly before sliding away from the resistance. “What kind of specialist?”

The elevator began to make a high-pitched squealing sound, protesting the fact that it was being held open.

“I don’t know!” Gyro shouted back. “A programmer, I guess! Someone who knows Fortran 77, C++, MATLAB, Python, and can handle system architecture of at least 100 billion bits.”

“Not asking for much, are you?” Fenton replied with a level of sarcasm Gyro knew his assistant wouldn’t dare to voice if he was in the same room as him.

“Just let me know when you find someone!”

It was nearly a week later when the topic came up again. Gyro was attempting to troubleshoot a glitch in 2BO that was triggered every time the android heard the word pineapple. At this point the list of things that could trigger a glitch was truly overwhelming. A few days ago 2BO had nearly destroyed someone’s house because he heard a dog barking. Thankfully, the McDuck family had covered it up, blaming a minor earthquake for the damage.

The android sat on a table beside the lab’s Cray XT3 computer terminal. 2BO was powered down, eyes closed and body slumped forward, cables connecting it to the Cray’s data ports. The monitor was awash with seemingly endless lines of code from the core dump they’d just done, and Gyro was pain-stakingly working his way through them, searching for the source of the problem.

“Dr. Gearloose! I’ve gotten some replies from the people I contacted about helping with Boyd,” Fenton said, approaching with a stack of envelopes in hand.

Gyro glanced away from his work only long enough to see the paper envelopes. “You wrote physical letters? No wonder it took them so long to respond.”

“In this day and age, a personal touch like a paper letter can really help make a good impression,” Fenton said. “Also, people familiar with the programming languages you asked for all skew older.”

Gyro made a noise that indicated he’d lost interest in the conversation and that Fenton should move on. The man had gotten better at reading him, and, instead of making further small talk, he went to start opening the pile of letters.

“Alright, let’s see,” Fenton said, and Gyro marked where he was in the code so he could come back to it later, deciding to take a break. He wouldn’t be able to concentrate properly with Fenton talking and rustling around nearby. He took the opportunity to take off his glasses and massage around his closed eyes.

“Yes? Get on with it, Inter--Assistant.”

“Eh, espere,” Fenton said, and Gyro heard the rapid fluttering of papers as Fenton fumbled with them. “I… This doesn’t make sense. They all say… ‘No’, ‘No’, ‘No’, ‘No’, ‘Hell no’, ‘Contact me again and I’ll get a restraining order?!’ ”

“What did you write to them, Assistant?” Gyro demanded, though he already had a hunch of what might have gone wrong.

“I--What did I do? Nada! Nothing unusual! I just said that you were looking for someone with the skills you listed, to consult with on a technical problem you were having.”

“Did you put my name on them?” Gyro asked, wanting to confirm his suspicions.

“Of course I did!” Fenton said. “It’s your lab! Who would I tell them was writing, the Queen of England? Lin-Manuel Miranda? Spider-Ham?! I used the lab stationary that has Dr. Von Drake crossed out and your name written in the margins.”

“You idiot,” Gyro said, but he was more tired than angry. “Did you forget that I’m a pariah in the scientific community? People still blame me for what happened in Japan with 2BO twenty years ago, and if they’d started to forget, last month’s incident made it the hot new gossip all over again. I thought you were smart enough to figure that out and put your own name instead. I didn’t realize I had to tell you everything.”

Fenton’s face tightened the more Gyro spoke, taking the scolding without any further attempt at making excuses, which was a relief. Gyro hated when people couldn’t keep it together.

“Considering your usual tendency to overdo things, should I assume that you’ve written to every programmer in the United States that fits my requirements, and all those bridges have now been thoroughly burnt?” Gyro asked with some venom.

“Also a few in México and Canada,” Fenton said, shrinking in on himself with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Dr. Gearloose, I didn’t mean to cause trouble for--”

“Go… Do something else. Away from me,” Gyro said, struggling not to shout at the other man. “We’ll have to continue working on 2BO without assistance.”

Huey loved planning things. Oftentimes he found himself making plans for events that would never even happen. The process of planning and figuring out all the details just felt good, even if he never got outside of the planning stage. He could spend hours daydreaming about parties, expeditions, and camping trips.

Planning was his favorite part of any adventure, and he loved going over maps and charts with Uncle Scrooge, observing how the old man did it and trying to learn something from it.

So planning for their first ever pool party with their extended group of friends was beyond exciting. It wasn’t just a fantasy scenario that had no hope of happening. Their friends were really all coming over for a day of fun in the pool, and Mrs. Beakley had even given Huey a budget for buying snacks and party supplies.

He’d scoured the Pinfeather app looking for ideas all week, spent days creating pool-themed decorations, and all of yesterday preparing dishes so there would be a variety of healthy and fun food available, no matter what kind of dietary restrictions their friends might have. He’d thought of everything and was extremely proud of how it had all come together. Nothing could possibly go wrong when he’d done such a thorough job of planning things.

Everything was going completely wrong!

The party had been in full swing for a couple of hours, and Huey couldn’t bring himself to go into the water or join in with the others. Nobody was eating his lovingly crafted healthy snacks. His brothers had taken one look at Huey’s Fun Summer Dessert Pizza, his Gluten-free tortilla chips and strawberry corn salsa, his hotdog sliders with mango and pineapple chutney, and they had started raiding the pantry, helping their guests to microwaved hot wings, cheese-wiz, mini pizza bagels, potato chips, and Pep soda.

Lena, Violet and Webby (who wasn’t technically a guest but Huey had counted her as one for the sake of his logistics) seemed to be having plenty of fun on their own without the piles of pre-made water balloons that were stacked on a pool float bobbing around in the water, or the board games Huey had arranged by the neat stacks of towels and sunscreen. Lena had turned off Huey’s Summer Pool Party Fun Mix five minutes after her arrival and plugged in her own phone to play the newest Featherweights album. Violet had complimented him on the decorative wreath made of novelty cocktail umbrellas and swords at the front door, but Huey wasn’t sure if she had been employing sarcasm or not.

Louie climbed out of the pool and shook the water off his feathers. Huey felt too miserable to even bother flinching away. What did it matter? He was in swim trunks anyway.

“How come you’re just sitting over here by yourself?” Louie asked, picking up a bag of chips and shoving a handful into his mouth as he sat down next to Huey.

“No reason,” Huey mumbled. He was saved from further conversation when an app on his phone told him there was someone at the front door. “Someone’s at the door, it’s gotta be Boyd! I’ll go let him in.”

“Robo-Boyd?” Louie called after him, tone incredulous. “Why’d you invite him? Can he even go in the water?”

“Boyd! The party started hours ago, is everything okay?” Huey asked as he flung open the front door. Boyd stood there wearing a Hawaiian shirt with anchors and ships on it, red swim trunks, and his red anti-laser sunglasses. He was carrying a large plastic tupperware container.

“I’m sorry for arriving late.” Boyd said, holding the tupperware out for Huey to take. “Yes, everything’s fine now. I brought this for the party, I hope everyone likes it.”

Huey vaguely remembered reading something about it being polite in Japan to bring a gift with you when visiting someone’s home. He took the plastic container and tried to guess what might be inside it by the weight and the black and white color he could discern through the semi-opaque cover.

“Oh, thanks for bringing something!” Huey said. “What is it?”

“A cookies and cream sheet cake.”

Everyone was going to love that, Huey thought with a mix of envy and embarrassment. Why was Boyd better at understanding regular people than he was? Shouldn’t Boyd be at a disadvantage, since he was a literal computer and Huey was a flesh and blood kid?

“Awesome. Come on, let’s go out back so I can introduce you to everybody,” Huey said.

“I’m excited to meet Webby’s friends, Lena and Violet,” Boyd said, closing the door behind them as they walked through the house.

“Why’d you show up so late? That’s not like you.” Even though Boyd said everything was fine, Huey couldn’t stop himself from worrying. Both he and Boyd were usually very punctual.

“I was helping Mr. Gizmoduck clean up a shipping tanker accident in Audubon Bay. I wanted to send you a text, but the signal was bad. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“It’s okay! I’m just glad it wasn’t anything too dangerous and that you’re safe,” Huey answered in a rush, not wanting Boyd to feel guilty for trying to be a hero. He knew that ever since they’d returned from Tokyolk, the android boy had spent a lot of his time helping people all around Duckburg and St. Canard.

“I think it’s really cool that you’ve been helping out Gizmoduck,” Huey said, and Boyd flashed him a huge, brilliant smile that made Huey’s chest feel funny. He smiled back at Boyd.

“Hi, I’m Boyd, a definitely real boy!” Boyd announced, offering his hand to Violet, who shook it, and Lena, who didn’t.

“I’m Violet. You’re in the same Junior Woodchuck troop as Huey, right?”

“Affirmative! I’m a member of Junior Woodchuck troop 15. You recently became a Senior Junior Woodchuck. You have more badges than 86.2% of the other members in our age range. I think that’s very admirable.”

“Cool,” Said Lena indifferently. “So you’re Huey’s friend? Where are you from?”

“I was born in Tokyolk. Where are you from, Lena?”

“Uh, let’s not talk about that,” Lena replied uneasily.

“Why not? I answered your question,” Boyd said.

“Lena’s kind of been through a lot recently,” Huey said, interrupting the conversation before it could get any more confrontational. “Talking about family stuff is hard for her.”

“Oh,” Boyd said. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know.”

“It’s whatever,” Lena said with a shrug, radiating a cool indifference that Huey envied a little.

“Boyd’s an android,” Huey explained, “But he’s also just a kid like any of us.” This revelation seemed to soften Lena’s attitude.

“This is my first time attending a pool party. I’ve also been to a birthday party. Those are all the parties I have been to,” Boyd said.

“You know what? This is our first pool party, too,” Lena said, smiling at Boyd. “And I’m having a great time. Do you eat food?”

“Yeah, I love eating food!” Boyd said, as the group made their way over to the snack table. “I need to consume nutrients and calories to maintain my biological components.”

“Me too,” Lena said.

“You planned this whole party, right Huey?” Violet asked. “I think the streamers between the umbrellas and the colorful leis really create a festive atmosphere.”

“Thanks, I made them by hand,” Huey said, grateful that someone appreciated just how much effort it had taken to prepare everything.

“And I’m guessing Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum weren’t a lot of help,” Lena added, unwrapping a chocolate ding-dong and taking a bite.

“Which one of us is Tweedle-Dee and which of us is Tweedle-Dum?” Dewey called from the pool. Lena ignored them and looked at Huey expectantly, waiting for an answer.

Huey laughed a little, and he hugged his arms to himself to try and ease how awkward he felt with the older girl’s attention on him.

“Yeah, they weren’t really interested. Planning stuff is more my thing.”

“Well, you’re good at it,” Lena said bluntly, “They’re probably too lazy to try and compete with someone who tries as hard as you do.”

“Who are you calling lazy?” Louie called from the pool float he was lounging on.

“You!” Lena shouted back.

“Fair, that’s an accurate assessment, carry on,” Louie replied as he floated away.

Maybe the party wasn’t going that bad. Now that Boyd had arrived, Huey felt a lot more confident, and watching Boyd enjoying himself made Huey happy.

“I have an easier time breaking down and extracting nutrients from simple, unprocessed foods,” Boyd said, as he polished off a second plate of cheese-and-fruit skewers. “I don’t have a sense of taste, but I’m sure these are really yummy. My compositional sensors say the fruit is at peak ripeness and that the cheese is at an ideal temperature.”

“Glad you like them,” Huey said.

“You’re welcome. Should we go in the pool?” Boyd said.

“Can you go in the pool?” Huey asked. “Aren’t you too heavy?”

“Dr. Gearloose installed automatic arm floaties on me this morning.” There was a loud hissing sound as metal panels on Boyd’s upper arms retracted and PVC material inflated with air, outfitting Boyd with swim fins. “They’re rated up to 145 kg which is twice my weight. He assured me that with these, I would be able to remain safely buoyant while in the water.”

“If Uncle Donald could install those on us, he would,” Huey said.

“So where did you get the cookies and cream cake from? Dr. Gearloose didn’t make it, did he?” Huey asked. The sun had started to set, and the pool lights were on. The other kids were all playing with glow-sticks and glow-in-the-dark bracelets and necklaces Huey had bought in bulk online. A little distance away, Mom and Uncle Donald were barbequing some burgers and hot dogs for dinner.

Boyd hadn’t taken any of the glow-in-the-dark stuff, but he seemed happy to sit on the edge of the pool next to Huey, their feet dangling in the water. Boyd’s eyes were lit from within, like flashlights, as the daylight around them grew dimmer. His tinted sunglasses turned the light red, and it reminded Huey of the taillights of a car.

“No, of course Dr. Gearloose didn’t make the cake, he’s much too busy for that kind of frivolity. I went to the employee cafeteria at The Bin to buy some slices of cake, and one of the ladies who works there asked why I was buying eight pieces. I explained to her that I was going to a party, and she asked why I was by myself in the cafeteria at 9AM, and I told her I didn’t have--”

“Uh, I think I get the general gist of what happened,” Huey said. “So she made the cake for you?”

“Yes! She said that she was certain it would be popular, and I think her assessment was correct. Its sugar content is similar to snacks that children in our age range typically enjoy.”

Even though it was getting dark outside, the air was still almost unbearably hot. It had been over ninety degrees every day for the past two weeks in Duckburg, and the heat lingered. Cicadas buzzed in the dark, and occasionally a frog croaked.

“Kids, time for dinner!” Donald called. Gradually they all set aside their games, dried off with towels, and made their way to the picnic table that had been set out for dinner in the garden. Boyd grabbed Huey’s arm before he could follow, stopping him.

“What’s wrong?” Huey asked.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Boyd said. “I just… Wanted to thank you for inviting me to your pool party. It’s been a lot of fun.”

“Well, don’t worry, the fun’s not done yet,” Huey said. Maybe Boyd was just sad that the party was almost over? “We’re still going to tell scary stories around a campfire, and Uncle Scrooge and Mom always have some great ones.”

“That sounds great. I’m excited to hear the stories,” Boyd said, his grip on Huey’s arm relaxing until the android’s hand slipped down and rested against Huey’s. They were holding hands. Huey felt that same funny feeling in his chest from before, and suddenly the rest of the world around them was weirdly quiet. No frogs, no cicadas, no Uncle Donald arguing with Mom. Just him and Boyd, holding hands on a summer night.

“...But something’s bothering you, isn’t it?” Huey asked.

Boyd didn’t answer immediately, which was unusual for the android. Huey squeezed his hand gently, trying to encourage the other boy to share his feelings.

“When I lived with Mr. Beaks, he played with me all the time for the first few days, but then he started ignoring me. When I lived with the Drakes, I could play with Doofus any time I wanted, but he didn’t want to play with me, and said things that made me feel bad. Mr. and Mrs. Drake were nice, but if they paid too much attention to me, Doofus always got mad…”

“I like living with Dr. Gearloose better than any of the others,” Boyd said. “But sometimes I feel lonely. He doesn’t have a lot of time to play with me either, and if I distract Mr. Fenton or Mr. Manny from work too much, Dr. Gearloose yells at them. At night when he goes to sleep, he makes me stay in the closet, so I won’t wake him up by moving around, and he doesn’t like reading me bedtime stories.

“Is something wrong with me?” Boyd asked. “It feels like every time I join a family, they end up getting bored with me, or they don’t really want me around.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you!” Huey said. “A lot of kids feel that way. Sometimes parents or other kids don’t have time to play with us, sometimes they don’t want to play with us, and it does feel lonely. Also, not everyone has a good family. Sometimes people just don’t get along.”

“What do regular kids do if they’re in a bad family?” Boyd asked.

“Honestly? I think they’re just stuck when that happens. Running away and living on your own is dangerous and hard. But you don’t have that problem! Since you’re a super-strong robot, if you want to leave, you can just go.”

“Sort of,” Boyd said. “It’s… Not that simple. I’m a robot, but I’m bio-mechanical. I still need to eat and charge some of my power cells occasionally. Getting food and access to electricity when I’m on my own can be hard. But the worst part is… I really don’t like being alone. I like to be around people.”

There was such a sadness in Boyd’s voice in that moment that Huey felt a need to do more than just hold hands. “Would it be okay if I hugged you?” he asked, not knowing what to say or how else to make Boyd feel better.

“Yes,” Boyd said, looking delighted by the offer. He held his arms out stiffly towards Huey, and it looked so silly that Huey struggled not to laugh.

“Okay.” Huey carefully put his arms around Boyd, hugging him tight.

“BOYS!” Della shouted from a distance, making Huey nearly jump out of his skin. “Come eat before the food gets cold! C’mon! You got water in your ears or what?”

“Coming, Mom!” Huey shouted back, grabbing Boyd by the hand and pulling him towards where the rest of their family and friends were gathered.

Once a month, Gyro had a video chat with Dr. Ludwig Von Drake. The man had mentored him when he made his second attempt at his doctorate, and though he wasn’t always easy to have a long-distance conversation with, Gyro found the exercise useful in a variety of ways. Sometimes he could bounce ideas off the older scientist and find better solutions he might not have thought of on his own. Sometimes they talked about world events and science news. Sometimes it just felt good to talk to someone else who felt as if they were remotely close to Gyro’s level of intellect.

Dr. Von Drake might have been a bit scatterbrained, but he was brilliant and a real renaissance man to boot. Gyro admired him tremendously, though he did take the man’s words with a grain of salt due to the aforementioned scatterbrained-ness.

Gyro liked to have something mindless he could work on while he was on a call with someone, even someone as interesting to talk to as Dr. Von Drake. Having to sit still and focus on a conversation and struggle with eye contact on a webcam was a surefire recipe for not only boredom but also his attention wandering away. On particularly bad days, he might end up feather-picking, which was an embarrassing nervous tic he’d spent decades trying to conquer.

So today he was shoulders deep repairing a jet engine (burnt out courtesy of Launchpad McQuack) when his conversation with Dr. Von Drake shifted from the doctor’s latest oil painting experiments to what Gyro had been up to recently.

“Nothing that exciting, I’m afraid,” Gyro said. “It feels like all I do anymore is repair things. A never-ending cycle of maintenance, something which should have been passed on to technicians instead of taking up my valuable time! I’m always chasing after old projects, trying to keep them from falling apart. The Gizmo-suit. And Lil’ Bulb. And--”

“Dr. Gearloose,” 2BO said, suddenly appearing at Gyro’s side. “Can I go over to Huey’s to play?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Thank you!” 2BO chirped enthusiastically as it activated its rocket jets, the turbines spinning up rapidly.

“Just make sure you don’t stay out too late!” Gyro shouted, raising his voice so 2BO could hear him over the roar of its propulsion system.

“I’ll be home at seven!” 2BO said with a smile, rising from the floor and flying out one of the emergency air lock exits. Gyro could see the android shoot out under the water, flying past the lab’s windows as it gained altitude and finally vanished from sight, leaving nothing but a flurry of bubbles in its wake.

“My goodness, what a charming little boy!” Dr. Von Drake said. “Is he yours or perhaps the child of a coworker?”

“Oh, it’s not a child,” Gyro explained. “That’s 2BO, it’s just an android I helped create as a student.”

“Just an android? Gyro, my boy, he is quite remarkable! Even with the rocket jets for feet, I was entirely ready to accept that he was a real boy. Why haven’t you ever shown him to me before? You’ve never even mentioned him.”

Gyro had been dreading this particular topic, though he’d always known it would come up someday. He set down his tools and wiped the oil from his hands, fidgeting with the shop towel as he tried to pick his words.

“It’s a long story, sir.”

“That’s no problem, I have long ears!” Dr. Von Drake replied, which was nonsensical enough that it made Gyro chuckle.

“That is manifestly untrue.” Gyro felt himself smiling just a little. Though they were thousands of miles apart and only interacting through an impersonal and cold computer screen, Dr. Von Drake’s warm and nonjudgmental presence still felt as reassuring now as it had when Gyro had been a young man. “But since you insist… Before I came to work for you, I worked for Dr. Inutaro Akita in Tokyolk.”

“I’ve met him,” Dr. Von Drake said, prompting Gyro to continue.

“He was already working on 2BO when I started assisting him. It was designed to be an autonomous defense drone, capable of interacting with end users in a naturalistic way. But something went wrong.”

“With 2BO?”

“No, with Dr. Akita. Originally I thought it was a fault in 2BO, but it was just following orders. Dr. Akita ordered 2BO to go on a rampage, and it performed exactly as designed.”

“That’s awful!” Dr. Von Drake exclaimed. “But now that you mention it, I remember reading something about a robot attacking Tokyolk way back when. It’s hard to believe all that destruction was caused by little 2BO… But if he was created by Dr. Akita I can’t say I’m too surprised. The man has ‘mad scientist’ practically stamped on his forehead. He’s a terrible sore loser. Matilda said he’s not allowed at the annual canasta game after what happened to that china cabinet.”

Gyro was morbidly curious to know what had happened that would make the sweet-tempered Matilda McDuck ban someone from the International Robot Designer Union’s annual card game, but he knew better than to ask. Dr. Von Drake was likely to actually tell him the whole story and that could take hours - hours that Gyro didn’t want to spare.

“So how is it that he’s come to live with you now?” Dr. Von Drake asked. “The incident in Tokyolk was a long time ago.”

“Somehow 2BO turned up here in Duckburg,” Gyro explained. “I had no idea that 2BO was even operational anymore. I thought it had been destroyed, but it wasn’t and now it’s here, and it’s just another thing I have to constantly do maintenance on.

“It has these terrible glitches that are triggered by random stimuli. I’ve been working on it for a whole month, and it seems like the problems just keep getting worse. I’m not making any progress. I told Fenton to get in touch with some programmers to find a specialist to help me resolve the issue, but--”

“Tell me more about these glitches,” Dr. Von Drake said. “Maybe I can help you figure it out.”

“Well, as I said, 2BO was originally designed to be a defense drone, so obviously it has a weapons system.”

“Obviously.”

“But 2BO’s also a highly complex learning system. It was meant to interact with people the way another person might, and that kind of processing power normally takes up a much larger footprint than 2BO has.”

“It’s not a remote system?” Dr. Von Drake asked. This wasn’t an unreasonable question, as most AI’s of 2BO’s complexity were at least the size of a car. There weren’t that many out there that Gyro was aware of, but they did exist. He assumed that most of them were confidential government projects. None of them were really like 2BO though. Advanced AI technology had been a stagnant field since the end of the Cold War.

“No, 2BO is entirely self-contained. It can be remote controlled in theory, but, under normal circumstances, all it needs to operate is onboard.”

“And you say it’s been functioning independently for… How long?”

“Twenty years on its own without meaningful human intervention. No maintenance, no repairs.”

“Remarkable!” Dr. Von Drake took off his glasses to polish them, something he usually did when he was excited. “Can you send me the latest core memory dump? I’m sure it’s a doozy of a file, but I’d like to look it over.”

“Of course, though… Hmm.” Gyro considered the reality of sending the file over the internet. “It’s almost a terabyte.”

“That’s not so large, we can keep talking while it sends over the WAN. A terabyte shouldn’t take more than half an hour.”

The suggestion of sending the data across the McDuck Enterprises’ global intranet made Gyro hesitate. It was one thing to send Dr. Von Drake a funny cat video through their company emails, it was another thing entirely to send proprietary data that wasn’t official McDuck Enterprises work through the data pipeline that Mr. McDuck so generously provided to their labs.

“Are you sure that’s alright?” Gyro asked. He’d long given up working on anything while having this conversation, and was watching Dr. Von Drake on his desktop monitor while picking at the feathers on his left wrist. “I know you’re Mr. McDuck’s brother-in-law, but it’s still using company resources for a personal project.”

“Pish-tosh! Don’t worry about it so much, my boy. After all, are you debugging Boyd on a personal computer, or are you using McDuck resources to do it?”

“I am using the McDuck lab equipment,” Gyro admitted grudgingly. “I’ve been here so long, I always think of it as my lab equipment. I do a lot of work here that isn’t strictly for Mr. McDuck, but this is different.”

“How so?”

“Those other things I work on are never anything this important,” Gyro said. “Like using the laser cutter to cut out pieces when I was making myself a suit of armor, or when I made myself a new headset. I designed it on my workstation using my company edition of CAD and printed it with the 3D printer after hours. I bought my own filament and used that for the build, but it’s a small project, and if Mr. McDuck wanted to copyright the design and mass produce them, it wouldn’t matter, even if I just designed it for my personal use.

“2BO is different,” Gyro continued. “Both the chassis and the programming are proprietary designs that belong to Akita International.”

“That company went bankrupt and ceased to exist years ago,” Dr. Von Drake pointed out. “You don’t expect them to show up on your doorstep and demand custody of 2BO, do you?”

“I don’t know,” Gyro admitted, wincing as he tugged a feather loose from his wrist. He set it down on his desk and crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to stop picking at himself. “Dr. Akita is in jail, but he does still have living family. And there could possibly be old creditors that might come after 2BO if they realize it’s still functional. Anyway, what I’m really concerned about is that if I send the data through the McDuck Enterprises system, then they’ll have legal grounds to claim the data as theirs.”

“Please, Scroogey wouldn’t do something like that!” Dr. Von Drake said.

“Mr. McDuck might not, but the company absolutely would,” Gyro said, recalling his many unpleasant encounters with the McDuck Enterprises’ Board of Directors. “I’ll ship it to you overnight on a jump drive. You can tell me what you think of it when it arrives.”

“Alright, alright. But back to the subject at hand, you were talking about the hardware and software that your android runs on.”

“Right. 2BO’s hardware is a combination of chemical and crystal processors operating a GIST framework, using a program derived from the FELT system.”

“Ahh, like TOODLES! You remember TOODLES from when you worked here, don’t you? He’s built on crystal microprocessors and a GIST framework as well.”

Unfortunately Gyro did remember TOODLES, the omnipresent AI that controlled Dr. Von Drake’s lab at McDuck castle in Scotland. It wasn’t that there was anything particularly wrong with TOODLES, but the AI had been designed as a caretaker, a nanny of sorts, and it tended to treat everyone it came into contact with like a child. It got on Gyro’s nerves very quickly.

“I do remember TOODLES,” Gyro said, as diplomatically as possible. “I didn’t realize it shared the same architecture as 2BO. I guess I never really looked under the hood.” In truth, Gyro had avoided TOODLES whenever possible in the seven years he’d worked for Dr. Von Drake.

“And that’s a shame, TOODLES is quite the complex fellow. He’s even older than your 2BO, born in 1980.”

“Activated. You mean activated in 1980,” Gyro corrected, but to no avail as Dr. Von Drake simply continued on.

“However, I think the primary difference is that TOODLES has absolutely no conflict programming, as he is not a weapon, and that he has never been on his own. When he learns new things, I’m right here to help him through it, and to make sure TOODLES has properly understood whatever his new experience was. 2BO, I assume, has many different layers of programming, from his weapons systems to navigation to human interaction. Living on his own for twenty years with no one to help him properly understand the things he has experienced, well, I’m sure his code looks like a big plate of spaghetti by now!”

Two days later, Gyro received an email from Dr. Von Drake.

NEXT CHAPTER: Dr. Bara Summary: Fenton and Boyd chat on the way to the lab. Gyro introduces himself in the most melodramatic way possible, and Dr. Bara meets everyone at McDuck Enterprises R&D. Dr. Bara starts assessing Boyd and things get worse before they get better. Gyro thinks he's helping.

#ducktales #ducktales fanfic #gyro gearloose #b.o.y.d.#fenton crackshell cabrera #my art #fanfiction #the first law of robotics #fanfic

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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So just out of curiosity, what inspired the whole Beacon Bay idea? What kind of sharks and dolphins are they? This entire thing is very intriguing to me and I can't wait to see more.

So first off, anyone who’s ever played soundingboard to my original stuff like Moukie or Adam can attest to the fact that I’m ocean obsessed, so there’s pretty much nothing I’m interested in that isn’t a mere two or three steps removed from an ocean/merfolk/sea witch AU in my head. Gimme anything and like, five minutes, and I can make it ocean themed. Space operas included. I grew up near the ocean, been surfing for ages though of course I haven’t in years, blah, but like. I’m a big fan of the deep blue sea. Its just....neat. ghaskfhalkfhla

So I’ve always had a bunch of ocean-set concepts. This particular AU came about from like, smashing a couple of them together to preserve them when my plans for doing original stuff with them fizzled out, at least for the time being. Cuz the other thing about me is the way some people like, take their fanfic and file off the serial numbers to turn it into original novels, I more often do the reverse, lmao. When I have something I can no longer do something with original-content-wise, for whatever reason, but I still like the idea, I turn it into fanfic so I can still play around with it whenever I want and like, have purpose to that, so I don’t feel like I’m wasting time by still ‘indulging’ in that concept or whatever.

Like my Batfandom fic By Lost Ways, as I’ve mentioned before....that actually started out as an original high fantasy novel set in my ‘Tales of the Citadel’ shared universe. BUT the setting ended up being similar enough to a sci-fi project I wanted I to move forward with, ‘Waveriders’ (the one with the sky pirates and the ATLA-style benders only instead of evoking the four classical elements, waveriders could each ‘hack’ a different kind of wavelength, that one) like....basically, the projects FELT similar enough in setting and various superficial elements that I started to feel derivative of myself moving forward with both, so I picked Waveriders and then recycled the setting and a lot of the plot of the sky-set fantasy novel for fanfic, just for fun.

Same thing here, though Beacon Bay is basically the mash-up of two different shelved original projects. Basically, its the plot of a CW-style show about teen sirens and the sea witch making like the Fagin to their Oliver Twists, from a pilot I wrote years ago.....it got some interest but I refused to make it less gay because lol have you met me, so it ultimately never went anywhere but I still liked the plot.

And then remember the werewolf books I mentioned awhile back, that had the mongoose shifters in them? LOL. Yeah, so I’d written two and a half novels in that series and had this whole expansive worldbuilding of twelve different shifter clans each with their own innate magic, patron deity/creator, etc, but all my agent and editor contacts at the time were like yeah sorry, shifters are over for now, and I was like wow, can’t believe cancel culture’s real and publishing cancelled werewolves, wtf, rude, and then I was like eh, still wanna play in this universe especially with the dolphins and shark shifters which I never even really got to in those books, so I’m just gonna air-lift them out of that and drop them smack in the middle of my CW siren plot and fanfic away to my heart’s content and call that ‘being productive’ when I feel like it.

Anyway, found family was a big theme of those books and the world-building I did there in general, because again, have you met me, I’m not predictable or anything (shhh, the word is consistent), and one of my initial things there was I wanted the various shifter types to all have innate magic, because for literally no real reason that I can discern other than Whimsy, I have always been Team Werewolf in vampires vs werewolves, and I was tired of werewolves always being by default the underdogs in those narratives. Even if that does make for a good pun.

SO, I wanted to come up with werewolf magic that felt natural and organic to werewolves, like nothing too flashy or obscure, but that would make them a legitimate threat even to other supernatural creatures. And I made it so each of the shifter types were granted an active and a passive magic by the god that created their type of shifter, and with werewolves, their active magic was that of the pack gestalt. I took the idea of ‘their whole is greater than the sum of their parts’ that TW kinda briefly touched on when presenting (but never really doing much with) the idea that the more wolves in a pack, the stronger that pack was.....and I decided okay what if being part of a pack upped stats all across the board AND all shifters have a SLIGHT innate resistance to magic, being innately magical beings themselves?

So a werewolf pack, with enough pack members, would thus not only be formidable in strength, speed, senses and speed of healing....but compound that innate shifter resistance to magic, which in a single shifter is negligible, like, just enough to make them slightly harder to track with magic or curse or whatever.....but in a whole werewolf pack, that adds up to make the pack effectively immune to foreign magic. Vampires can’t compel them, demons can’t possess them, witches can’t curse them, etc. So a lone werewolf, not part of a pack, is formidable, but nothing another supernatural being can’t take on. But a lone werewolf who IS part of a pack....different story entirely, because now most other supernatural beings, no matter what their USUAL strengths, are reduced to taking on that werewolf hand to hand, as their own supernatural gifts or spells or whatever, like, aren’t gonna do them any good against these particular foes. And werewolves are USED to fighting with just brute physical strength and attributes, which gives them the edge against opponents who are more used to being able to fall back on magic in battle.

But as much as I like sticking to a theme, I like to diversify that theme where possible, so when it came to the other shifter types, I wanted to similarly come up with ways where ‘the whole would be greater than the sum of their parts’ but in like, entirely different ways.

So with dolphin shifters, their ‘passive magic’ (in quotes cuz that’s not quite the right word for it but whatever) is that they’re all empaths, with their more active magic being weather manipulation. Their empathy is a two-way street....they project emotions as well as just feel other peoples’, which ties into the fact that their patron deity was Dionysus. Dolphin parties....legendary. But in an extremely wild, dangerous and Bacchanalian kinda way. In terms of Beacon Bay specifically, this is a bit of a problem for the BB dolphins, as the closest thing they had to an official Triton (the dolphin shifter version of an Alpha) was Peter, but they were like nope, not loving this guy, and kinda drove him out of town in the AU S1 backstory of this ‘verse, which means Scott and the others are kinda just making it up as they go along, and don’t really know the ins and outs of BEING dolphin shifters. (Derek is....elsewhere, in this. Mostly).

So bottom line is they have reputations around school for being loud obnoxious goofs and trouble-makers, constantly playing hooky and such, but its because they don’t really know HOW to safeguard against spilling their emotions onto everyone around them so they try and err on the side of being the life of the party whenever possible, as that’s better than the alternatives in their opinion. And when they’re just having bad days and bumming hard, the whole pod will just skip school and glomp around the bumming pod member whilst self-caring, rather than like, accidentally bum out the entire school.

But their weather manipulation magic is where the gestalt idea comes into play with them, as I love weather manipulating powers, but I didn’t want to make them all Ororo Munroe, y’know? Only Ororo Munroe can be Ororo Munroe. Don’t make me scoff. I’ll do it. I’ll scoff so hard. SO I went with the idea of weather control married to manipulating storms via song and was like, okay what if a dolphin pod is like, a symphony of shifters.

Basically, its like each individual dolphin shifter is a single voice in a chorus, and there’s magical equivalents of being a baritone, an alto, etc. Like, none of them can whip up a storm on their own. Its more that each of them can summon or conjure a PIECE of a storm with their song, with it being different for each of them....symptomatic of their magic as an expression of them as an individual. So for instance, Scott’s song is ‘tuned’ to lightning. He can call down a bolt of lightning from a clear blue sky.....but he can’t summon so much as a drop of rain to save his life. Literally. Its an actual plot point at one point. Whereas Isaac’s song is all about calling down rain, Boyd’s is more of an arctic wind, and Erica’s kinda summons a pressure front that in harmony with the two of theirs can whip up a mean waterspout. And then Corey’s all about conjuring fog banks with low visibility while Liam can whistle up a strong, gale-force wind but sucks at using his song as a precision instrument. Etc, etc. But the real magic is when they all use their voices and magic in concert....as a group, they can summon huge magical thunderstorms.

Also, one thing I love about using different kinds of shifters is the opportunity to explore enhanced supernatural senses that aren’t just keen sight, smell or hearing. So the dolphin shifters aren’t like wolf shifters in being able to detect chemosignals or anything like that....in fact, their sense of smell isn’t much different from anyone else’s. But they do have an ability to use what’s effectively supernatural echolocation even above water, and their sight is adapted for optimal viewing underwater, making them particularly good at seeing in the darkness even on land.

(Also, related but somewhat tangential to both the shifter senses and dolphin ‘voices’....all dolphin shifters have a strong talent for mimicry, but this isn’t technically a form of magic, more just a combination of their control over their voice and their keen senses of pitch, etc).

The shark shifters, on the other hand, have some of the keenest senses of all shifters. Not only is their sense of smell even better than a werewolf’s, they’re sensitive to changes in pressure, for one thing. Which means on land, they can even feel changes in atmospheric pressure.....so like, the shark shifters of Beacon Bay could be in math class and then ‘feel’ a sudden drop in air pressure and thus even before some strange weather phenomenon occurs, they’re groaning like ugh fucking A, what the hell did the damn dolphins do now.

Also, their magnetic field perception is such that they can kinda ‘sense’ when people are around, just by being aware of the approaching magnetic field of another living being.

And then with the sharks, I was looking for ways to lean into the associations we have with sharks and blood, but subvert them to be less macabre and more communal. And another big theme of mine in general is like, I am DETERMINED to go to my grave shouting at the top of my lungs “Its THE BLOOD OF THE COVENANT IS THICKER THAN THE WATER OF THE WOMB, NOT BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER, HOW DID PEOPLE GET THAT SO BACKWARDS ITS SUPPOSED TO BE THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF HOW ITS USUALLY STATED!”

Like, that’s just...HUGE pet peeve of mine. Its like nails on a chalkboard, lmfao, that drives me nuts. That phrase is usually cited by people using it to express like, the idea that there’s no greater force than family, specifically BIOLOGICAL, ‘blood’ relations, but its literally meant to be the exact opposite, that the blood of CHOSEN bonds, of covenants, of vows or promises, is a greater force than the water of the womb, ie being born of the same womb, as in biological siblings. The entire point of the phrase is biology ain’t shit, family is what we choose. And somehow it got turned ENTIRELY around.

(Note: Okay, so for the record, its not ‘somehow’, there’s actually a very clear reason for why that particular interpretation gained so much momentum, and that’s because for a long time it was conflated with an old German proverb from like a thousand years ago that basically translates to “kin-blood is not spoiled by water.” Which basically was meant to mean that nothing can ‘dilute’ blood relations, not time, not distance, not water. So that phrase DOES correspond to the idea that ‘blood is thicker than water.’ Problem is, there isn’t a direct trace from that particular proverb TO most USAGES of ‘blood is thicker than water,’ which when you throw in the OTHER phrase, which in its entirety is “the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” what you end up with is a lot of people SAYING that one when they actually MEAN to say ‘kin-blood is not spoiled by water’ and that’s where the meanings get switched. But I fucking digress. Per usual).

Anyway. So combine that particular pet peeve with my found family fixation AND the fact that this is about magic and magic means I can do whatever the hell I want, fuck your biological connections mwahahaha.....I decided to base shark magic on the idea of the blood-ties of family....but CHOSEN blood-ties, as in blood of the covenant ties.

What I mean is okay, so it first of all just made sense to me to have shark shifter communities be heavily focused around adoption, because like....let’s be real, shark shifters going around biting people to change them into shifters, and then people magically healing from....shark bites....was going to attract a lot more attention than people turning after being attacked by other types of shifters. Not to mention the fact that not only are shark attacks always big news, part of why they’re big news is because they’re actually pretty rare.

So, shark shifter communities were never really gonna propagate via lots of random shark shifter attacks turning people. So the way they DO expand and grow is by, well, family. Both biological AND adoption...as well as of course shark shifter communities taking in people who ARE attacked by rogue shark shifters, when that does happen.

But bottom line is, there’s an additional element in play in shark shifter communities, beyond just the gene pool....and that’s like, a magical tidepool of talents, let’s call it. Because I do love me some alliteration. But also tidepool of talents is just a cool phrase, IMO.

Anyway, the main part of shark shifter magic, and how THEIR whole is greater than the sum of their parts, is that any shark shifter can draw upon or channel the talents, skillsets or knowledge of anyone else in their communal family. And whenever that family gets added to, the talents, skillsets and knowledge of the new addition gets added to the pot, so to speak. So shark shifters are kinda all like Rogue, if Rogue’s focus was less on the superpowers of other people and more on things like Beast’s scientific knowledge, Cyclops’ strategic skills or Cable’s weapons expertise.

And then their ‘passive magic’ is a form of psychometry whenever they come into contact with blood. By touching even just a drop of someone’s blood, they can get a vision of how that blood was spilled or even get a sense of where the person who spilled it is now.

As to the types of sharks and dolphins they all are, for that I went with the thing about the shape you take reflects the person you are.....all the shifters here are full shifters, and there’s no genetic component to their shifting, its purely magical, so like....just because Peter turned the various dolphins of BB doesn’t mean they all turn into the same kind of dolphin he was. In fact, I don’t even know what kind of dolphin he was on account of I don’t really care tbh, lol. Whereas Erica’s an Atlantic spotted dolphin, Liam’s a pygmy killer whale which looks like an orca just tiny in comparison and is actually a dolphin, and I found that combination of factors hilarious, etc, etc.

Same thing with the shark shifters. Even among biological relations, there’s a ton of variety of shark types. Like the twins aren’t even the same type...Ethan’s a blue shark and Aiden’s a bull shark, Tracy’s a tiger shark and Hayden’s an angel shark. Danny’s actually a throwback to an unnamed prehistoric shark, not Megalodon big but big enough to shut up Jackson when he goes on about being a great white shark. Shark and crocodile shifters are the two oldest shifter clans, old enough that literal dinosaurs fall under the umbrella of their shifter type, and thus occasionally show up even in modern generations.

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 years

Link

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

February 17, 2021

Heather Cox Richardson

The crisis in Texas continues, with almost 2 million people still without power in frigid temperatures. Pipes are bursting in homes, pulling down ceilings and flooding living spaces, while 7 million Texans are under a water boil advisory.

Tim Boyd, the mayor of Colorado City, Texas, put on Facebook: “The City and County, along with power providers or any other service owes you NOTHING! I’m sick and tired of people looking for a damn handout!... If you are sitting at home in the cold because you have no power and are sitting there waiting for someone to come rescue you because your lazy is direct result of your raising! [sic]…. This is sadly a product of a socialist government where they feed people to believe that the FEW will work and others will become dependent for handouts…. I’ll be damned if I’m going to provide for anyone that is capable of doing it themselves!... Bottom line quit crying and looking for a handout! Get off your ass and take care of your own family!” “Only the strong will survive and the weak will parish [sic],” he said.

After an outcry, Boyd resigned.

Boyd’s post was a fitting tribute to talk radio host Rush Limbaugh, who passed today from lung cancer at age 70. It was Limbaugh who popularized the idea that hardworking white men were under attack in America. According to him, minorities and feminists were too lazy to work, and instead expected a handout from the government, paid for by tax dollars levied from hardworking white men. This, he explained, was “socialism,” and it was destroying America.

Limbaugh didn’t invent this theory; it was the driving principle behind Movement Conservatism, which rose in the 1950s to combat the New Deal government that regulated business, provided a basic social safety net, and promoted infrastructure. But Movement Conservatives' efforts to get voters to reject the system that they credited for creating widespread prosperity had little success.

In 1971, Lewis Powell, an attorney for the tobacco industry, wrote a confidential memo for the U.S. Chamber of Commerce outlining how business interests could overturn the New Deal and retake control of America. Powell focused on putting like-minded scholars and speakers on college campuses, rewriting textbooks, stacking the courts, and pressuring politicians. He also called for “reaching the public generally” through television, newspapers, and radio. “[E]very available means should be employed to challenge and refute unfair attacks,” he wrote, “as well as to present the affirmative case through this media.”

Pressing the Movement Conservative case faced headwinds, however, since the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) enforced a policy that, in the interests of serving the community, required any outlet that held a federal broadcast license to present issues honestly, equitably, and with balance. This “Fairness Doctrine” meant that Movement Conservatives had trouble gaining traction, since voters rejected their ideas when they were stacked up against the ideas of Democrats and traditional Republicans, who agreed that the government had a role to play in the economy (even though they squabbled about the extent of that role).

In 1985, under a chair appointed by President Ronald Reagan, the FCC stated that the Fairness Doctrine hurt the public interest. Two years later, under another Reagan-appointed chair, the FCC abolished the rule.

With the Fairness Doctrine gone, Rush Limbaugh stepped into the role of promoting the Movement Conservative narrative. He gave it the concrete examples, color, and passion it needed to jump from think tanks and businessmen to ordinary voters who could help make it the driving force behind national policy. While politicians talked with veiled language about “welfare queens” and same-sex bathrooms, and “makers” and “takers,” Limbaugh played “Barack the Magic Negro,” talked of “femiNazis,” and said “Liberals” were “socialists,” redistributing tax dollars from hardworking white men to the undeserving.

Constantly, he hammered on the idea that the federal government threatened the freedom of white men, and he did so in a style that his listeners found entertaining and liberating.

By the end of the 1980s, Limbaugh’s show was carried on more than 650 radio stations, and in 1992, he briefly branched out into television with a show produced by Roger Ailes, who had packaged Richard Nixon in 1968 and would go on to become the head of the Fox News Channel. Before the 1994 midterm elections, Limbaugh was so effective in pushing the Republicans’ “Contract With America” that when the party won control of the House of Representatives for the first time since 1952, the Republican revolutionaries made him an honorary member of their group.

Limbaugh told them that, under House Speaker Newt Gingrich, the Republicans must “begin an emergency dismantling of the welfare system, which is shredding the social fabric,” bankrupting the country, and “gutting the work ethic, educational performance, and moral discipline of the poor.” Next, Congress should cut capital gains taxes, which would drive economic growth, create hundreds of thousands of jobs, and generate billions in federal revenue.

Limbaugh kept staff in Washington to make sure Republican positions got through to voters. At the same time, every congressman knew that taking a stand against Limbaugh would earn instant condemnation on radio channels across the country, and they acted accordingly.

Limbaugh saw politics as entertainment that pays well for the people who can rile up their base with compelling stories—Limbaugh’s net worth when he died was estimated at $600 million—but he sold the Movement Conservative narrative well. He laid the groundwork for the political career of Donald Trump, who awarded Limbaugh the Presidential Medal of Freedom in a made-for-tv moment at Trump’s 2020 State of the Union address. His influence runs deep in the current party: former Mayor Boyd, an elected official, began his diatribe with: “Let me hurt some feelings while I have a minute!!”

Like Boyd, other Texas politicians are also falling back on the Movement Conservative narrative to explain the disaster in their state. The crisis was caused by a lack of maintenance on Texas’s unregulated energy grid, which meant that instruments at coal, natural gas, and nuclear plants froze, at the same time that supplies of natural gas fell short. Nonetheless, Governor Greg Abbott and his allies in the fossil fuel industry went after “liberal” ideas. They blamed the crisis on the frozen wind turbines and solar plants which account for about 13% of Texas’s winter power. Abbott told Fox News Channel personality Sean Hannity that “this shows how the Green New Deal would be a deadly deal for the United States of America.” Tucker Carlson told his viewers that Texas was “totally reliant on windmills.”

The former Texas governor and former Secretary of Energy under Trump, Rick Perry, wrote on House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy’s website to warn against regulation of Texas’s energy system: “Texans would be without electricity for longer than three days to keep the federal government out of their business,” he said. The website warned that “Those watching on the left may see the situation in Texas as an opportunity to expand their top-down, radical proposals. Two phrases come to mind: don’t mess with Texas, and don’t let a crisis go to waste.”

At Abbott’s request, President Biden has declared that Texas is in a state of emergency, freeing up federal money and supplies for the state. The Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) has sent 60 generators to state hospitals, water plants, and other critical facilities, along with blankets, food, and bottled water. It is also delivering diesel fuel for backup power.

—-

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#political #newsletters #Heather Cox Richardson #Letters From An American #deregulation #Texas #corrupt GOP #criminal GOP #climate #climate change #conservative narrative #political malpractice #Rush Limbaugh #right wing propaganda

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pynches · 4 years

Text

word count: 2310

tw: hypothermia, mentions of death (but no actual deaths no worries)

AO3

Adam Parrish couldn’t swim. His parents never taught him and he never bothered to teach himself. He didn’t have time to go swimming for fun anyway so it didn’t feel like a necessity to learn yet. Adam Parrish didn’t do things if they weren’t necessary.

That was his first regret when his body broke the surface of the ice-cold water that laid in Cabeswater. His second regret was never telling Ronan how he felt. His third regret was not eating that one pizza slice Gansey had offered him because it didn’t matter now anyway. He was sinking and there was nothing he could do.

His limbs were moving sluggishly through the water, his body weighed down by the clothes he wore. He tried to pull himself up as best as he could because giving up was not something he did. And yet, determined as he was, and always had been, he strayed further from the light of the sun shining down on the lake he had fallen in. He wasn’t sure if it was getting darker because he nearly reached the bottom or because he was losing consciousness.

Adam thought he could hear distant shouting, his name, over and over again, but the water distorted the sound. He should have felt scared, with death close enough to greet, but he felt oddly calm, the water swaying him away to a more peaceful place.

His eyes closed just as two arms wrapped around his body.

He woke to grass beneath his fingertips and his lungs filled with water.

“Parrish.”

Adam couldn’t open his eyes.

“Parrish, come on!”

Two hands were pressing on his chest. Another set of hands were closing his nose and opening his mouth.

He felt soft lips on his own, blowing air into his body.

“Adam!”

Water lurched out of him, nearly choking him in the process. He coughed until his throat was raw and he couldn’t see anything through the tears blurring his eyes.

There was a small hand pounding between his shoulder blades with just the right amount of force.

With shaking hands, Adam wiped the tears away, looking right into the worried faces of his friends surrounding him. Blue was next to him, tears rolling down her cheeks, Gansey was crouched down in front of him with a deep frown etched into his forehead, his hands nervously picking at each other.

Ronan was standing a bit further away but his skin was paler than usual, his chest heaving, his clothes drenched, hanging off his form limply. He was chewing his leather bracelets, a nervous habit he would probably never unlearn.

Adam wondered who had given him mouth to mouth.

“You scared us,” Gansey said unnecessarily. Adam touched his shoulder briefly to let him know that he was okay, he was too afraid his voice would betray him.

Gansey didn’t look convinced but he knew better than to argue with Adam. He just pulled him into a one-sided hug Adam returned and stood up.

“We need to get him somewhere warm,” Gansey said, his president voice on. “He’s shaking.”

“He nearly drowned himself in a lake, no shit he’s shaking,” Ronan finally spoke up. Adam didn’t know whether his heartbeat spiked from Ronan moving closer to him and crouching in front of him until they were eye-level or from almost dying. Ronan reached for the leather jacket that he had probably thrown somewhere before jumping after Adam and wrapped it around his shaking body. It smelled like Ronan, all leather and expensive perfume. Adam burrowed himself in it, seeking the more of the warmth it provided.

“I’ll take him to the Barns.”

Gansey started to protest but Blue shot him a glance Adam could feel even though it wasn’t directed at him.

“Are you sure?” Gansey asked, still unsure. Normally, Adam would have hated this, the overbearing behaviour, but now, confused and shivering from the cold that had settled in his bones, he felt a surge of love for his friend.

“The Barns sounds good,” Adam said, barely getting the word over his lips. He couldn’t feel them but he somehow managed to give sound to the words he was trying to utter and his friends were finally looking at him instead of each other.

Blue rubbed his back, Gansey bit his lip, and Ronan stretched out his hands. Adam took them.

Adam could feel his legs give out under him, the ground suddenly closing in on him. Two arms wrapped around him in a way that felt oddly familiar.

One arm remained around his middle while the other lifted his legs carefully. Suddenly he was buried against Ronan’s wet chest. Adam hoped the warmth that spread under the skin of his cheeks wasn’t starting to show.

Gansey and Blue trailed after them, Adam could feel their eyes on him.

“Should we take him to a hospital?” Blue asked quietly, Adam had to strain his ears to hear her.

“No hospital,” the other three said in unison. Gansey defeatedly, Ronan begrudgingly, Adam resolutely. They all had the same arguments before, they all knew the answer before the question was being asked.

“If it gets worse,” Gansey started but Ronan cut him off.

“Then I’ll force him.”

Adam was too weak to protest. The only thing he could focus on was the numbness in his fingers, the urging need to feel warmth seep through his skin.

They had learned about hypothermia in biology last year. From what he could tell his symptoms looked like a mild case but it would get worse if it wasn’t treated quickly.

Adam didn’t have time to deal with hypothermia, though. He had work in less than three hours and Latin homework that had to finished before tomorrow. Missing a shift or even one assignment left unfinished would have catastrophic consequences for him, for his future. But he couldn’t tell his friends that he was fine, there was no point in lying.

He didn’t have the energy to protest when he was lifted in the passenger seat of Ronan’s BMW. Especially not when he put the heater on full force and Adam couldn’t stop himself from relishing in the warmth. He stuck his shaking hands out to the heater and tried to ignore how Ronan’s gaze landed on them for a few seconds before driving off.

Adam must have missed what had transpired between the other members of his group because Gansey and Blue weren’t with them anymore.

Ronan noticed him looking to the backseat in the rearview mirror. “They took the Pig.”

Adam nodded and leaned his head back. He could feel Ronan’s worried glances every view seconds. He never put his foot off the gas pedal. They made it to the Barns in record time.

The car door opened on his side and Adam stumbled out, not waiting for Ronan to carry him again. He could walk himself and he managed, fuelled by his potent sense of pride. Ronan was still following him close by, though, his hand not quite touching his lower back, waiting for him to fall.

They made it through the door with a lot of stumbling on Adam’s part and grumbling on Ronan’s part. Adam was parked on the couch immediately, Ronan not quite running upstairs to fetch whatever would keep Adam warm.

His heart swelled a little at the concern Ronan showed. He buried himself further into the couch and closed his eyes, trusting Ronan to take care of him like he never trusted anyone before.

Ronan didn’t lie, but he was a master at keeping secrets and Adam used to be one of them. But that was before Adam’s eyes turned glassy and walked to the edge of the lake, staring into the water with a far off look Ronan recognised as scrying. It was before Adam took one step too far and tumbled into the lake headfirst. It was before he waited one second, two seconds, three seconds and realised Adam wasn’t coming up. It was before he threw off his leather jacket and jumped in after him, wrapping his arms around Adam’s limp body, dragging him to the grassy field and blew air into his mouth, his stomach turning in desperation. It was before coughed up water, finally opening his eyes, and Ronan realised he could have lost him.

He came back with every blanket he could find in his little house, his steps faltering when he found Adam on the couch, his mouth half-open, his eyes closed. It shouldn’t scare him this much to see Adam unconscious, he was probably asleep, but he couldn’t help himself from feeling Adam’s neck for a pulse and sighing in relief when he felt a steady heartbeat.

Ronan gathered the blankets and tucked Adam in, careful not to wake him. He then opted for making soup, an old recipe Aurora used to make when Ronan had the flu. He had to do something or he would go insane. The lifeless body of Adam still burned behind his eyes.

He took out his phone and sent off a quick message to Gansey, telling him Adam was alright and then called Boyd’s. There was no way Adam could work tonight.

Ronan was almost done with the soup when he saw Adam stir from the corner of his eyes. He poured the soup into a bowl and brought it to Adam. He ate it without protest.

Adam’s skin was whiter than usual, his freckles standing out more prominently. Ronan resisted the urge to trail them with his fingers.

“Thank you,” Adam said, his voice gravelly. Ronan didn’t know it was because of sleep or because of the water filling his lungs not an hour ago. He didn’t want to think about it. Adam was here, next to him and he was okay.

Ronan shrugged, trying to regain some of his dignity. “It’s just soup, Parrish.”

Adam chuckled, he sounded exhausted. “I meant for saving me.”

Ronan wasn’t sure what to say to that. He wanted to say that of course he would save Adam, he would put his own life on the line if that meant Adam could keep his eyes open for just another day. That he would jump after him any time in any given situation. That he couldn’t lose Adam, not him too. That it would kill him if Adam wasn’t there to call him a shitbag and smile at him, breaking every wall that he had put up. He wanted to say that nobody made him feel the way Adam did and that he would risk anything to keep that, to keep him as close as he would let him.

Ronan stayed quiet, Adam looked like he understood anyways.

Adam turned the tv on, filling the loaded silence with quirky voices Ronan didn’t even pretend to pay attention to.

Adam's hand was facing upwards, resting on the mountain of blankets around his body. Ronan contemplated holding it, feeling Adam’s fingers between his own, just as a reminder that he was alive, that he was still here next to Ronan.

He didn’t take Adam’s hand.

He asked himself why. Adam presented him with a chance and he didn’t take it because why? Because he was scared? He had been more scared of Adam forever vanishing in the depths of the lake. He had to make a choice. Take the risk or forever live with the consequence of not having just a second of courage.

He bumped his hand against Adam’s.

Adam turned to look at him, their hands still touching. Adam’s skin was getting warmer already. His hand was rough and calloused. Ronan’s heart was racing when he turned his own head. Adam’s eyes were soft and kind, nothing like the hardened version he usually wore. Ronan had seen those hardened eyes in his dreams more often than he liked to admit, telling him that he didn’t have a chance. Adam was dangerous sometimes, wrapped in barbed wire to protect himself from anyone who tried to get closer to him. But now, on the couch of the Barns, their bodies almost touching, the soft glow of the tv lighting their faces, he was letting his defences fall, urging Ronan to get closer.

Ronan slowly raised his hand, his eyes never moving away from Adam’s. He tangled their fingers together and Adam smiled, a little crookedly. Ronan brought his other hand up, gently trailing Adam’s bottom lip with his thumb. Adam leaned into it, his breath hitting Ronan’s hand.

“Can I?” Ronan asked, his voice a whisper.

Adam didn’t answer. Instead, he moved closer, tilting his head, his eyes closing.

Their first kiss was slow and careful. Soft pecks and lips barely moving against each other, too afraid to push further.

Their second kiss was languid, the feeling of the other’s lips too important to not fully take in. It was light touches, a hand trailing up the other’s side.

Their third kiss was deep and passionate. Hands clenched into shirts, Ronan’s hand in Adam’s hair, brushing through the locks like he had wanted to do ever since he saw him walking up the road leading to Aglionby. It was exploring each other’s mouths with their tongues. It was reaffirmation, Adam telling him he was still here and Ronan replying that he was not going anywhere.

Later, when they were both wrapped up in blankets, Adam’s head on Ronan’s chest, Ronan’s arms around him, Ronan finally let some tears fall. For what could have happened, for what he could have lost, for the relief he felt when Adam kissed his collarbone and told him to sleep.

The nightmares that plagued him this night would continue to plague him during many more but he woke with Adam in his arms, snoring softly in his ear and realised they would get through this. Together.

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introvertguide · 4 years

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Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001); AFI #50

The current movie for review from the AFI top 100 is the most recent of the films, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001). This was the introduction of director Peter Jackson to much of the mainstream American audience despite him having a 20 year history of film making in New Zealand. The film is beautiful in so many aspects, from the special effects to the cinematography to the sets creating the world of Middle Earth. The film received 12 nominations at the Academy Awards and received 4 of them, a feat unheard of for an epic fantasy film. This is also the only “incomplete” film on the AFI list because there are no other “too be continued” stories. There are some films that are first and second parts (specifically The Godfather 1 and 2), but this is the only one that intentionally stopped with intent for the story to pick in the next film. With that being said, the sheer number of characters and the intended incomplete nature of the film makes it almost impossible to summarize without just going scene by scene. There are 100 movies on this list and I am not going to set any precedence that I will be doing that, so here is a very brief synopsis of what happens in this film without diving into too much of the lore concerning the rest of the trilogy or The Hobbit:

SPOILER WARNING!! I DON’T KNOW WHY IT IS NECESSARY ON THIS ONE, BUT I DO IT EVERY TIME AND I WANT TO BE CONSISTANT!! IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THIS BY NOW OR ARE UNFAMILIAR WITH THE STORY, THEN YOU ARE LIKELY VERY YOUNG, LIVE UNDER A ROCK, OR PURPOSEFULLY AVOIDING IT!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED SO I DON’T WANT TO GET ANY NOTES ON THIS ONE!!!

So here is the general outline, there was an evil guy named Sauron that gave out rings of power to the Elves, Dwarves, and Humans in a realm called Middle Earth. This land is a fantasy realm that has a mix of Dark Age castles mixed with monsters and human like races. It looks strangely like New Zealand through a lot of the country side. Coincidence I am sure. Anyway, Sauron tricked the different races because he kept for himself one ring to rule them all and bind the ones wearing the rings to him. This did not go over well so the humans, elves, and dwarves rose up and fought Sauron and his armies and were able to get the master ring during battle. There was a chance for them to destroy the ring but human corruption prevented this and the ring was eventually lost. It eventually ended up in the hands of a man that kept it close and allowed it to suck away his life until it was stolen by a small human-like creature named Bilbo Baggins. The ring was taken on many adventures (see The Hobbit films for this story) and it gave this little hobbit prolonged life, but it also became an addictive burden. Bilbo decided to go off and leave the ring for his nephew and this is where the story begins. I know, it’s a lot.

A wizard named Gandalf (Ian McKellen) comes to the hobbit village as Bilbo is leaving and makes sure the ring is left in the hands of the nephew Frodo (Elijah Wood). The wizard confirms the ring is the one that rules them all and reveals that Sauron is regaining power and wants the ring. For the safety of the shire, Frodo must take the ring to Rivendell, home of the Elves, to figure out what must be done. Gandalf has to take care of some business so some other hobbits - Sam (Sean Astin), Merry (Dominic Monaghan), and Pippin (Billy Boyd) - get wrangled into the journey and the group of four go off to a local human town to meet Gandalf and continue forward. This short trip proves treacherous as the 9 humans that were given rings of power had been corrupted and turned into Nazgul that are attempting to track down the little group of hobbits. Gandalf does not show up, but the group run into a ranger named Strider at the human tavern and he helps fight off the ring wraiths. With the help of his elf girlfriend, Arwen, the group are able to make it to Rivendell where they are presumably safe for the time being.

A meeting is held at Rivendell and representatives of the different races all show up to decide what must be done. The ring must be destroyed so a fellowship to transfer the ring to Mount Doom is formed. It is made up of the four hobbits, Gandalf the wizard, an elf named Legolas (Orlando Bloom), Strider the Ranger who is actually a human king named Aragorn (Viggo Mortenson), a dwarf named Gimli (John Rhys-Davies), and another human named Boromir (Sean Bean). I have seen enough movies with Sean Bean as a side character to know that he is for sure going to die. It is only a matter of when.

So the group heads off toward Mount Doom and initially start by taking a path through snowy mountains but have to turn back and instead decide to go under the mountains. The dwarf is excited because he can visit his cousin who is king under the mountain. Alas, all they find is skeletons and an evil race created by Sauron called orcs. This race also seems to have other evil creatures enslaved including a cave troll. The Fellowship is chased through the bowels of the mountain until the orcs suddenly back off and the group finds something even worse, an ancient evil called a Balrog. Gandalf takes on the creature at a stone bridge and screams the now memed words “You shall not pass!” The Balrog falls into a pit but drags Gandalf down as well, reducing the number in the group by one wizard.

The group mourns the loss very briefly (and dramatically) before traveling to an elven forest where Frodo is told by a queen that he will have to take on the quest alone and that one of the fellowship will betray him. They continue on and it turns out that a wizard named Saruman that was corrupted by Sauron (confusingly close in name, I know), has created super buff orcs called Uruk-hai (pronounced “Orick Eye” all blended together) to hunt down the party. Boromir tries to take the ring from Frodo but immediately makes up for it by sacrificing himself to protect the hobbits from the super orcs. Sean Bean was kind of a bad guy and was killed. What a surprise. That actor really needs to find different roles or he is going to spend his entire career being type cast.

Anyway, Frodo and Sam break away from the group to go off on their own, the other two hobbits are captured and taken by the orcs, and then Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli decide to track everybody down. To be continued.

This probably seems like quite a short synopsis for a 3 hour movie...but legitimately the movie is a visual spectacle in which not a lot happens. Most of the movie is traveling, fighting, introducing the lore of the world, and introducing characters. Not a whole lot of plot progression in this particular movie, but it sets the stage for the second film to be nothing but battle and progression (an hour long battle of Helm’s Deep which is amazing), while the last one is nothing but battles and resolution of every story line. It is an incredible trilogy and this is only the beginning and it had audiences drooling for more.

In fact, Peter Jackson films set the standard for special effects for the early 21st century. His team took home the Oscar for best visual effects in 2001 for Fellowship of the Ring, in 2002 for The Two Towers, in 2003 for The Return of the King, and in 2005 for King Kong. No film series with consecutive releases has done this except Lord of the Rings (not even with Star Wars, Marvel, and DC universe films coming out constantly). The series really is something special. Attempts had been made to tell the trilogy as an animated movie, but no drawings could do the world justice. It took advanced computer graphics, motion capture technology, an expansive New Zealand countryside, a quirky director that had envisioned this world his whole life, and a dedicated cast and crew that was fully committed to the project. It is an amazing piece of filming.

If I have any complaints, it is that there is some really corny drama. The amount of times that Elijah Wood overacts in pain or despair is more digits than I have. Especially when the group is mourning the loss of Gandalf...it is kind of embarrassing. It is that “inconsolable parent who lost a child” acting with scream crying and shouts of “Noooooo!�� It is all the hobbits, too, which doesn’t help that they are the size of children and are having a despair tantrum. Luckily they keep going and that is a one minute scene, but still it is embarrassing. Also, Frodo is stabbed and presumed dead twice. I can see why there were no nominations for best actor because it was not the best acting.

It is all made up for by the incredible battles. For me, it is the chase under the mountain with the orcs and the cave troll and the balrog. That is about 30 minutes of constant fight or flight that left me short of breath. I realized I kept forgetting to breath I was so mesmerized by the constant intensity. There is also a good amount of comedy since the hobbits are generally peaceful farmers and they don’t know how to (or want to) have adventures and keep messing things up. Pippin and Merry keep touching things that they shouldn’t and it brings all kinds of trouble. I think it is one of them that knocks some armor into a well that catches the attention of the orcs under the mountain.

Two specific scenes that I found memorable in that they are burned into my brain forever were the Nazgul fight and the appearance of the cave troll. The Nazgul are absolutely terrifying in that they have no face and have only one intent: kill whatever they are hunting. A good comparison would be to Dementors in the Harry Potter universe. The Nazgul are like Dementors with swords and armor. What is worse, Frodo can use the one ring to make him invisible, but it puts a target on him for the Nazgul and they come straight for him. They idea that you can’t hide from this evil and attempting to will make you stand out more is kind of horrific. I found the Nazgul truly disturbing. The cave troll is just awesome and huge. At no point was I worried for the team on this occasion because the wizard, elf, dwarf, and humans seemed undefeatable. It was more of curiosity about how they were going to handle this challenge. The detail of filming all the actors and sets so they were affected by the troll made the huge beast and the threat it posed in an enclosed space seamless.

There was some question why this movie was on the AFI list and the other movies in the trilogy were not, especially with the third film winning 10 Oscars including best picture. It is because this was the watershed film that made the others possible. I got to see the film in the theatre and it was an experience like no other. I cannot think of a movie that had created such a complete fantasy world like LOTR and it made for a truly cinematic experience. I generally do not like movie theatres because people around me whom I have no control over can affect my experience and I am not normally willing to pay for that. However, the theatre I was in had tiered level seating that was graded enough so that nobody blocked my view and ample leg room that also prevented kicking from behind. It was a thing of beauty and I went and saw the other two films in the theatre as well. It was amazing.

So does this film deserve to be on the AFI 100? My goodness, I would think less of the AFI if it wasn’t. It changed audience expectations of what a movie could be and set the tone for the new millennium as far a big budget cinema. Would I recommend it? Please, I own it. If you come by my place and you haven’t seen it, then I will be happy to put aside 3 hours and watch it again with you. It is the easiest epic film to get through, in my opinion, and I don’t think you will be sorry to give up the time. Just a fantastic movie.

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