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#coming of age au
effervescentdragon · 1 year
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No because young Charlos would be a hit on Netflix. No matter the plot. Everyone would be shipping them!
young royals who? a new netflix series comes to you in the lgbtq+ section, about finding oneself and finding love while backpacking through europe, but not like normal people, with 20e and a pack of cigarettes, no!
we bring you a rich heir from spain trying to break out from his father's shadow, doing something for himself for the first time in his life (with his daddy's gold credit card in his pocket) going on a journey of self-discovery through the (rich) countries of (Western) europe! he is young, he is hot, he has disney prince hair, and he is disillusioned with the shallowness of the riches all around him!
the roads (he would've come in his personal mclaren but he's doing the european roadtrip RIGHT because PRINCIPLES) takes him to the most beautiful place in the world (and the place where he knows tax evasion is a thing because his dad does it) - the principality of monaco. he knows nobody (except like 20 of his dad's tax evader friends but he's not doing that bcs principles, he may only call them if he needs to be bailed out from a casino), and who does he meet?
well, i am SO GLAD YOU ASKED.
carlos is just drinking his coffee and contemplating who to call up to hit a yacht party, when someone stumbles into him on the street. he is annoyed, but then he looks up and it's
✨the most beautiful boy he's ever seen✨
carlos is stunned, and confused, and he thinks he may be in love when the boy blushes and turns his emerald eyes towards carlos and apologizes profusely, and offers to buy carlos another coffee, but not now, because he is running late, but perhaps they can meet here tomorrow? and carlos just nods, stunned, and the boy flashes him a smile that dazzles him in how beautiful it is, and then he is gone, and carlos is left to wonder who he is, and realizes he didn't even get the boys name in his confusion.
it doesn't matter. he'll see him tomorrow. carlos smiles, and goes back inside for another coffee.
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tielmamon · 26 days
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Redo of an old Team avatar group photo back in 2018 when they first announced the live action 🥹💕
Edit: For reference!! First one was made this year 2024, the 2nd back in 2018 ✨️
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thenmichael · 29 days
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I need to finish something one day, anyway, here is Kokiri
Chained Spirits
More art :)
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marypsue · 1 year
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So if you follow me (and aren't just stopping by because you saw one of my funney viralposts), you probably know that I've been writing a bunch of fanfiction for Stranger Things, which is set in rural Indiana in the early- to mid-eighties. I've been working on an AU where (among other things) Robin, a character confirmed queer in canon, gets integrated into a friend group made up of a number of main characters. And I got a comment that has been following me around in the back of my mind for a while. Amidst fairly usual talk about the show and the AU and what happens next, the commenter asked, apparently in genuine confusion, "why wouldn't Robin just come out to the rest of the group yet? They would be okay with it."
I did kind of assume, for a second or two, that this was a classic case of somebody confusing what the character knows with what the author/audience knows. But the more I think about it, the more I feel like it embodies a real generational shift in thinking that I hadn't even managed to fully comprehend until this comment threw it into sharp perspective.
Because, my knee-jerk reaction was to reply to the comment, "She hasn't come out to these people she's only sort-of known for less than a year because it's rural Indiana. In the nineteen-eighties." and let that speak for itself. Because for me and my peers, that would speak for itself. That would be an easy and obvious leap of logic. Because I grew up in a world where you assumed, until proven otherwise, that the general society and everyone around you was homophobic. That it was unsafe to be known to be queer, and to deliberately out yourself required intention and forethought and courage, because you would get negative reactions and you had to be prepared for the fallout. Not from everybody! There were always exceptions! But they were exceptions. And this wasn't something you consciously decided, it wasn't an individual choice, it wasn't an individual response to trauma, it wasn't individual. It was everybody. It was baked in, and you didn't question it because it was so inherently, demonstrably obvious. It was Just The Way The World Is. Everybody can safely be assumed to be homophobic until proven otherwise.
And what this comment really clarified for me, but I've seen in a million tiny clashing assumptions and disconnects and confusions I've run into with The Kids These Days, is that a lot of them have grown up into a world that is...the opposite. There are a lot of queer kids out there who are assuming, by default, that everybody is not homophobic, until proven otherwise. And by and large, the world is not punishing them harshly for making that assumption, the way it once would have.
The whole entire world I knew changed, somehow, very slowly and then all at once. And yes, it does make me feel like a complete space alien just arrived to Earth some days. But also, it makes me feel very hopeful. This is what we wanted for ourselves when we were young and raw and angrily shoving ourselves in everyone's faces to dare them to prove themselves the exception, and this is what I want for The Kids These Days.
(But also please, please, Kids These Days, do try to remember that it has only been this way since extremely recently, and no it is not crazy or pathetic or irrational or whatever to still want to protect yourself and be choosy about who you share important parts of yourself with.)
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nocofamilyau · 4 months
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change of tone
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morgandarcyarts · 6 months
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Somehow, playing BG3 made me miss DA even more.
It’s like missing the old friends.
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 9 months
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Master manipulator vs Master manipulator
 [First] Prev <–-> Next
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dat1angel · 6 months
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When Ra's needed an heir, Talia impregnated herself with The Detective's DNA to give him the perfect offspring. When she delived fraternal twins the boy was raised to one day take over the League and the girl was kept around so that she might one day provide the LoA with new recruits. When she came of age and learned that the only reason she was kept around was the idea of her future children, she fled. They never found her.
Years later, Duke Thomas introduces his family to his new boyfriend, Danny Fenton.
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quoththemaiden · 2 months
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@mrghostrat This is now the third time since December that I'm writing about your middle-aged men and their middle-aged-man problems (1, 2). Please come collect them, because they're causing a disturbance.
Or, if you aren't able to wrangle them, then please enjoy this scene inspired by Chapter 10 of Big Name Feelings.
For everyone who hasn't already seen the top portion of this on Discord, know that this is set sometime after the con but before the big bang.
"I think your hair might be getting long enough to braid now."
Crowley's eyes snapped over to him. "Braid?"
Aziraphale blinked at the sharp question. "I didn't mean anything by it." He'd still never figured out quite where Crowley's gender identity lay, or if it changed day-by-day. He suspected Crowley's public presentation of his gender was either "whatever's simplest for everyone involved" (around people he didn't know but generally liked, like at the con) or "whatever causes the most problems for everyone involved" (like with a particularly annoying security guard that had left Aziraphale remembering that being middle-aged, white, and extremely stuffy in appearance was its own form of armor). Aziraphale's own perception of Crowley's gender was just "Crowley." What Crowley felt about it was something Aziraphale had never quite managed to parse out. "You can do whatever you like—"
"Do you know how?"
"How...?"
"To braid hair." Crowley's tone was oddly urgent. "Like for your nieces or cousins or—"
"—for crafting, yes. Tassels for bookmarks and such. You want me to—" Crowley practically flinging himself down onto the sofa next to him was answer enough. "Oh."
Crowley's hair really was barely long enough to braid, Aziraphale decided as he gently freed it from its elastic band. He ran his fingers through it slowly and carefully, easing out the light tangles from a day's confinement. Crowley slumped forward in boneless contentment, and Aziraphale had to switch to prickling the top of his scalp with his fingernails to get him to sit up straight enough for Aziraphale to work.
Aziraphale determined his gameplan, then, and gently eased up a few locks of hair at the crown of Crowley's head, smoothing down the top with the flat of his palm. He started working the strands into a French braid, taking it tiny piece by tiny piece to ensure every section was balanced in size. If Crowley were doing it himself, he suspected he'd get it done in just five messy joins, but every strand he brought in gave Aziraphale another excuse to run his fingertips along Crowley's scalp and he luxuriated in each opportunity. "Has anyone ever told you your hair is unreasonably thick?" he murmured, his voice huskier with fond affection than he'd intended. Crowley spared him from a tease by being too utterly sedated to manage more than a vague hum in response. Aziraphale smiled at that and kept his progress blissfully slow and methodical until he had no choice but to tie the braid off at the nape of Crowley's neck — half a French braid, half a ponytail made bushy from having had waves worked into it. He placed a soft kiss to the back of Crowley's head, padded by the thickest part of Crowley's braid and somehow all the more intimate for it. "All done, love."
Crowley leaned back against Aziraphale's chest, tilting back his head to look up at him with eyes made impossibly soft with contentment. "I'm never putting my own hair up again. Just hope you know that."
Aziraphale chuckled softly, just as fond. "I'll manage somehow, I suppose."
Crowley's boneless appreciation of the hair braiding had turned into boneless napping, and while Aziraphale enjoyed having Crowley fall asleep against him at certain times of day, he had never been one for naps himself and there was a limit to how long he could stay motionless sans entertainment before even he got antsy. He eased his way out from under Crowley, grateful the other man was a heavy sleeper even during the day, and was left deciding what quiet amusement he could pursue until whenever Crowley woke up and started making noises about dinner. He could always read some fanfics, of course, but his eyes couldn't help but be drawn towards his favorite muse.
His muse who had, he recalled, tempted him into joining a rigged bang and had talked him into getting a digital tablet. Aziraphale still planned to do his official art for it traditionally, because he was sure Crowley's writing would deserve no less... and, if he was allowed to be vain in the privacy of his own mind, because he still remembered the feeling he'd had when Crowley responded to his scans with barely coherent keysmashing. He wasn't in deferential awe of Crowley anymore, although he still loved his writing just as much, but part of him still hoped that Crowley might respond with just as much enthusiasm at getting to see the finished piece in person, textured paper and unprocessed colors and all. Well, assuming he could be gutsy enough to actually give it to him in person instead of just leaving it on the drafting table for him to find, which was really the more statistically likely result. But anyway.
But anyway.
His muse was sleeping in front of him, and a stylus on an iPad would make hardly any noise at all. And if he got good enough at using it, maybe he could draw some extra digital art to celebrate the fic as well.
In any case, sketching Crowley while he slept was one of life's little joys. He didn't think Crowley knew how often he did it, and that was probably for the best. If he did it all in his notebook, it would have been too easy for Crowley to flip through and find the sketches (and removing sheets would have felt damnably like a guilty conscience). With his iPad, however, he was safe to sketch as much as he liked and there was no real way for Crowley to stumble across it. Aziraphale willfully shoved aside the thought that that didn't really sound any less guilty and started setting stylus to screen. It wasn't long until he'd settled into a comfortable rhythm, his eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and where Crowley was lying face-down on the sofa, his new braid highlighted in a beam of afternoon sunlight.
Something Aziraphale did appreciate about digital art was that white could be layered on top of other colors and be shockingly vibrant, which wasn't an effect he could get easily with his beloved watercolors. Something else watercolors didn't give him was the ability to pick out very fine details, and as his sketch started coming together, he found that was exactly what he wanted to do now. While Crowley's hair was a vibrant red in his selfies or on stage, when he'd had the opportunity to run his fingers through every strand, he'd found that Crowley's hair was showing his age just as much as his own was.
The first day Aziraphale had found a grey hair had come as a shock. He'd naively assumed that with his hair being as pale as it was, even if it started greying, he might well never know. Instead, he found that the grey hairs' texture was frustratingly different from the strands that were still blond, and until they reached a critical mass fifteen long years later, they had an unfortunate tendency to stick out unattractively if his cut was anything less than perfect. He had become quite a regular at his barber's.
With Crowley's hair being as long as it was, his grey hairs had worked smoothly into his braid. From even the small distance from couch to armchair, they melded into the red strands perfectly... but Aziraphale had just spent long minutes twining them into neat twists and didn't need to see them now to know they were there. Aziraphale zoomed in close (another marked benefit of the digital display) and set his pen to a thin, sharp line, layering sleek silver strands into the red braid he'd drawn. Following the way they weaved around each other and dipped in and out of view felt delightfully meditative.
Eventually, Crowley made a soft snuffling snort-groan as he roused from his nap, slowly turning to unbury his face from the pillows. "Wha' time'zit?" he mumbled, patting around blindly for his cellphone.
"Coming up on 5:30 now," Aziraphale replied softly, trying not to startle him into full wakefulness too quickly. He rose and fetched Crowley's phone, placing it gently into his fumbling hand. "There you go."
"Mmrrr. Don't need it now." Crowley tucked the phone under his side in what Aziraphale would have guessed would be a very uncomfortable fashion but which Crowley did without even thinking. At least it wouldn't be going anywhere from there, Aziraphale supposed. "What're you doin'?" Crowley made grabby hands at the iPad Aziraphale had brought over with him.
Aziraphale handed over the iPad without even one thought, much less a second. "Oh, I was just waiting for you to wake up, really."
"...Angel." Crowley had zoomed out on the picture (with a completely unsurprising lack of propriety) and was now staring, frozen and much more awake, at the drawing of himself. "You aren't going to post this on Tumblr, are you?"
Aziraphale laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of that, despite the ripple of shock Crowley's tense tone had caused him. "Come, now. When have I ever posted a drawing of you, my dear?"
"When have you ever made a drawing of me?" Crowley retorted. He waved vaguely at the screen, accidentally sparing Aziraphale from having to answer. "I don't mind being old, but I don't want the world knowing my boyfriend thinks I'm old." His frazzled waving turned a little more flaily.
"Crowley..." Aziraphale gently took the tablet back from him and set it down on the floor so he could take Crowley's hand in both of his. "I assure you, I'm not the kind of artist who spends my time drawing things I don't think are beautiful. And that includes every detail I put in."
Aziraphale would have hoped that was obvious, really. The strands of hair he had drawn weren't brittle grey; they were molten silver. They caught the light like a precious metal woven like a ribbon into cinnabar-red hair. Crowley could have been a queen, fallen asleep after a long day in her finery. He could have been a fae whose very essence was beauty, sleeping with no fear that it would be stolen away because it couldn't.
He could have been an ordinary man, who was so deeply, truly loved that even his grey hairs seemed to shine like the soft gleam of a newly-forged star when they caught the last strong beams of afternoon sunlight shining in through the windows.
Aziraphale hoped Crowley could see it, too.
Crowley made a grumpy noise. "I still don't want it on Tumblr. — Not that I can tell you what to do with your art, but—"
Aziraphale interrupted him with a warm smile. "I don't want it on Tumblr, either. I drew this just for me."
"...really? Even though...?"
"Just for me," Aziraphale whispered in confirmation, his eyes seeking out Crowley's and saving him from having to finish that sentence. "I've only ever drawn you for me." I love you to the point of creation, his heart sang. It wasn't quite how that quote went, he knew. It was the only way it had ever gone, for him.
"Hn..." Crowley shifted to look at the iPad where it lay down on the floor. "I suppose... Well. Despite the subject matter, you drew it well, at least."
"Well, thank you for that," Aziraphale jibed back lightly, completely devoid of malice.
"Ngh, you can't blame me for feeling self-conscious about my greys when you haven't got any."
Aziraphale let out a huff of a laugh. "Oh, Crowley."
"What?" Crowley looked defensive, then abruptly switched to looking shrewd. "Wait. Do you dye them??" He leaned forward eagerly, like this was taboo knowledge.
"Oh, where was that compliment two decades ago? No, not at all. Do you know how long I spent getting over feeling self-conscious about them, and now for you to not even realize I have them?"
"No way. You've been holding out on me!" Crowley's eyes had a light in them that Aziraphale had seen sometimes — the look of someone who has been wanting something very much and thinks he's just figured out how to get it. Aziraphale drew back instinctively in trepidation. He had no idea what Crowley could possibly be wanting, though a fluttering feeling in his chest suggested that it was, in some way, him.
Ridiculous. As if they hadn't had sex already.
"I'm going to go get dinner started."
Crowley let out a whine that cut off abruptly enough that Aziraphale suspected he actually hadn't intended to make it.
Aziraphale paused. "What?"
"Ehhh... just envious, s'all."
Aziraphale took a moment to muse about whether Crowley knew the difference between "envious" and "jealous" and decided, firmly, that he had faith that he did. "Of what?" he asked with an incredulous laugh, since he still had no idea what "envious" could possibly apply to here.
"Negghhh, you've gotten to play with my hair enough to know I have greys, and I haven't gotten to touch yours once."
Aziraphale blushed darkly at that, remembering some choice occasions in which Crowley had gripped his hair tightly enough to hurt. He cleared his throat and opted not to mention them. "That feels much more like your fault than mine."
"Just... tryin'a respect your boundaries, angel."
"Why would that be a boundary?" Aziraphale asked, baffled.
"I asked for it and you haven't."
Aziraphale didn't quite remember it that way, but it was a fair enough interpretation from Crowley's point of view, he supposed. "Well, no. It sounds perfectly nice, but I'd hate to bore you with it. I know you're much more fidgety than I am."
"Not bored," Crowley insisted, his eyes urgent. "Never bored when it's you, angel. Siddown."
Aziraphale laughed breathily. "Too late. I'm already up to cook dinner."
"Angel."
"You'll just have to wait," Aziraphale teased in a singsong lilt, casting a smile back at Crowley over his shoulder.
Crowley flung himself back on the couch with an impatient whine, leaving Aziraphale feeling very smug about his attempt at whatever the romantic equivalent of foreplay was. Crowley sounded very much like he was being left with blue balls. "Bastard."
"Only as much as you deserve, my dear," Aziraphale sang back as he went into the kitchen, acutely aware of Crowley's eyes following every step.
It wasn't really in question, at all, that Aziraphale would end the evening snuggled on the couch with Crowley's hands in his hair. There was also no question that he'd enjoy it thoroughly, and he also knew it wasn't the kind of thing that was likely to lead to anything more. So, instead, he just relaxed into it and let his thoughts drift.
"...do you really think I'd mind if my red fox turned into a silver fox?" he mused. The thought was languid, easy, relaxed. Crowley spluttered in incoherent surprise anyway, and Aziraphale laughed softly. "Yes, I know. There's a reason I'm not the writer of the pair."
"Y'are, though. Don't think I've forgotten that you are."
Aziraphale blushed a little at that. "Oh."
Crowley's hands resumed their meditative motion through Aziraphale's hair. "But... yeah. I'd rock it, wouldn't I?"
"You would," Aziraphale murmured with a smile. "And I'm quite looking forward to seeing it someday, my dear."
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fictionadventurer · 3 months
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Fantasy retelling of Northanger Abbey:
Innocent young Catherine Morland is overjoyed to have the chance to go to the King's City, leaving her quiet country town for a more diverse and magical metropolis.
Catherine loves reading fairy tales about the dramatic deeds of long-ago fae.
Henry Tilney is a trickster fairy prince who is jaded by a lifetime of dealing with the machinations of the fae courts. He gets amusement out of living among humans and laughing at their follies.
Catherine meets Henry and is immediately awed at his backstory and (metaphorically) enchanted by his charming personality.
For reasons unknown, Henry's father encourages Henry to romantically pursue Catherine. Henry half-heartedly goes along with it, because it's not a bad idea to stay in Dad's good graces.
And then he's shocked to find himself actually falling in love--because Catherine loves him and because she's genuinely innocent and good in a world where he thought such people didn't exist.
To everyone's surprise, Catherine gets an invite to stay at Henry's father's palace.
An actual enchanted fairy palace? How could Catherine say no?
As they're traveling there, Henry plays up all the old fairy tale tropes warning Catherine how to behave. He's joking (things haven't been like that for centuries) but Catherine still takes it to heart.
Catherine hears of the dramatic tale of the life and death of Henry's mother (perhaps a human? So Henry's actually only half-fae?). With her imagination primed by the stories she knows, Catherine starts to interpret faint "evidence" as proof that his mother's actually hidden away under a fate-worse-than-death curse, perhaps just waiting for a pure-of-heart maiden to come break the spell.
Henry catches Catherine during her quest and is amused and a bit offended. Do you know what you're saying? Maybe things like that could happen long ago and far away, but the fairies are Christianized now. Enchantments like that are far too brutal to consider.
She's right that his dad's a jerk, though.
Not long after this, Henry's dad sends Catherine away in disgrace. He had heard that Catherine was the Chosen One of a prophecy and wanted her to increase the power of his kingdom. He's shocked to learn it's not true (you mean humans can lie?), and in his anger he's harsh in sending her away.
Henry refuses to abandon Catherine and gets himself banished for refusing to give her up.
He shows up at her ordinary home and declares his love and they live happily ever after.
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effervescentdragon · 1 year
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I didn't expect you to tell us the plot of the new phenomenon when I mentioned Netflix but I loved it!!!
Thank you so much for writing it! It will live rent free in my mind for sure! 😘😘
oh anon you've awakened something in me ngl, maybe i'll write about how carlos waited for the beautiful boy with the green eyes for the almost whole of next day at the coffeeshop but the boy never showed, and carlos was desolate because he felt something, and how he hit up some of his (rich) carting buddies that night and how they went to a yacht party and carlos was just about to ask this one guy home to his appartment (loaned from daddy's friend who was spending time in bali atm) when he saw the boy in the crowd, so he left to follow him and when he got to the bar, he realised the beautiful boy wasnt a guest - he was working there! and carlos came up to him to ask him why he stood him up, but the boy looked at him and carlos lost all his marbles (relatable) and the boy's eyes widened, and he looked surprised but also pleased, and just a bit embarrased, and carlos finally asked "why didnt you come" and the boy said "i didnt think you'd want to see me, i ruined your shirt and there were some things i had to do and i couldn't make it on time" and carlos said "will you be available tomorrow at noon" and reached for his hand and the boy blushed and said "yes, but" but then someone from behind the bar shouted at him in french and he flinched, and said "i have to go, im sorry" with an apologetic smile and carlos forgot everything because the boy had dimples and carlos wanted to kiss them suddenly and then he was gone again in the blink of an eye and carlos stood in the crowd and realised that once again, he forgot to ask for the boy's name.
but only maybe i'll write it, dont hold me to it ;)
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1495-gauge · 25 days
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there's that fucked up three-eyed thing that lives in the woods. whose turn is it to chase it off again??
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zillychu · 3 months
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Finding out the Danny Phantom pitch bible originally included more creatures other than ghosts really makes me want to just (DUMPS TRANSCENDENCE AU ALL OVER IT)
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tblsomedoodles · 1 month
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I can explain.
So, i've been thinking...i've never done anything with the non-apocalypse futures past a few months.
I'd also been thinking, that out of all the fan kids i've seen around, there wasn't a lot (if any) for Raph.
I ALSO thought, Family Web would be an absolutely horrible au to have Bishop be involved in (mostly b/c Leo would NOT be good with an evil government scientist. at all.)
anyways, here's an in-story explanation for what i got so far
When Raph's 25, he gets word that there's some government program doing some shady things. Now that wouldn't really be his concern, but they're rumored to be using mutagen so they feel obligated to check it out.
SO the three of them check it out (Not leo. He tried but the medical equipment got to him. He portaled to the roof to wait on standby.) They find a lot of failed experiments and the like, most being with at least some turtle dna for some reason.
They also find two very young, very alive baby turtle mutants.
So, of course, they take them home. (after completely destroying the lab, information and all.)
They find out a few days later (b/c of course Donnie copied the info and he and Jenny have been going through it for anything good) that ever since the failed invasion, Bishop's group had been taking their DNA samples left over from various fight locations, (and probably paying a few people to get blood samples too) and using it it to do genetic experiments. B/c the four have such a hodge-podge of dna to start with, the experiments were never stable. The two they stole being the best they've accomplished over the years. The two that just happen to have used Raph's dna.
I'm going to have to do more with this. Like give the boys adult looks and the like. but these two were being rotated in my brain on high for list the last 9 hours now and if i didn't share them tonight i was going to go insane. (i couldn't even focus at work i was so fixated on these two bitties.)
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lazycranberrydoodles · 11 months
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🔊 audio on! 🔊/ based off the tags of this post / find this on youtube / follow to see if hua cheng’s suffering will ever end
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jtl-fics · 6 months
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Fluent Freshman - Part 43
PREV
FF is a pretty good student. Solid Bs in his Gen-eds and As in regard to his major. With one C+ that he’s still working on with Captain Neil but it’s higher than the D+ that he had been pulling before Captain Neil had started to tutor him and he really just needs to pass the one gen-ed required math class.
There was many a deep breathing exercise before he made an appointment with his educational advisor for the next semester back in October but it hadn’t been that bad even though she was the one that had asked if he knew anyone good at math since it obviously was not a strong suit of his. So he dragged his grade up from a D+ to a C+ and he was pretty proud of that.
FF has a preferred spot in each and every one of his classrooms. In his Gen-Ed courses he sits in spots that the Professors don’t even notice and where there is almost always a gap between him and the next person. He arrives perfectly almost late every single day for every single class he can to achieve this feat.
For his Major classes he sits near the front with the few Foreign Language major friends that he has.
FF likes to be prepared. Studying was a nice way to prepare for the future. If he’s already read the entire textbook front to back and taken notes then a pop quiz can’t catch him off guard. He double, triple, and quadruple checks homework. He could probably recite the syllabus for any of his classes off the top of his head. He has read it so much to make sure he’s gotten everything and is on track.
FF kind of likes finals week.
For once, for one week, everyone is as anxious as him.
He sits next to Nicky patting his back as his friend sobs into a pillow. “I’m not going to graduate and it’s going to delay seeing Erik by an entire year!” Nicky yells as he brings his face out of the pillow.
“Nicky, you only got one flashcard wrong how about you shut the fuck up!” Aaron yells from his desk where he seems to have spontaneously developed ambidextrousness as he writes notes with both hands. “Fuck I am NEVER fitting all of this one one index card.” Aaron slams his face into the table.
“I don’t even need this degree.” Matt says looking down at a textbook that he has not turned a page on for the last hour. The fact that Matt had also not even opened that textbook before now was a bit of a cause for concern. “I’ve already got offers for professional teams. I can just play Exy. I do not need to pass a workplace psychology course.” Matt says.
“You think Dan wants an idiot?!” Nicky demands not wanting to go down alone.
“She thinks it’s cute that I’m stupid!” Matt exclaims.
“No she doesn’t!” Aaron points at him, “She said and I quote ‘I love it when you use that big ol sexy brain of yours.’ the last time you had her on speaker phone!” he uses a slightly more…effeminate voice when he impersonates Dan but FF had spoken with Dan and to his memory she did not sound like that.
“Fuck you’re right she deserves an all rounder!” Matt cries, head in his hands.
“Why do I even have to TAKE this Gen-Ed about history?” Nicky demands now holding onto FF as if he were a teddy bear.
“So that we’re well-rounded individuals with a wider perspective on-”
“Smithy, my sweet child, I was not looking for an answer.” he feels Nicky’s hand come up to his hair and maybe he’s being treated more like a favored pet?
“You’re having trouble with a Gen-Ed?!” Aaron asks turning around in his seat, “That’s embarrassing.” he turns his nose up.
“I’m having trouble with something that is going to be useless in my adult life.” Nicky says as if he were not currently an adult. “You are having issues with a class that will have huge ramifications on your future if you don’t manage to learn it!” Nicky points out.
“Eat my shorts Nicky.” Aaron hisses.
“Maybe I could study if you would wash your shorts Aaron. I can smell your laundry pile from over here!” Matt spits.
The fight devolved from there and FF slipped out of the dorm as Nicky was holding a chair over his head to seemingly throw at Matt for his ‘unreasonable number of sticky notes messing up the flow of Nicky’s studying’.
He heard a crash.
“It’s probably fine.” he says to himself and he has his index cards with the speech he has to give for and he really should go over to talk with Captain Neil.
He walks to Captain Neil, Andrew, and Kevin’s door and- “There faster-!”
FF walks away from Captain Neil, Andrew, and Kevin’s door, remembering only in this moment that Kevin had declared that he would be “Living in the library until this paper is done or I am.” to the team at the last practice of the year.
Captain Neil and Andrew were never the type to waste an empty dorm room.
He misses Pepto Bismol as he hears a particularly dirty line of Russian coming from his Captain’s dorm room.
***
Eventually Finals week is done and dusted with only 4-5 more blow-ups in his dorm room that result in Nicky, Aaron, and Matt stopping their fight to see if they accidentally had knocked him out with all of the thrown debris (only happened once when Aaron threw a textbook that Nicky ducked but he didn’t.)
FF came out of his final…final feeling pretty good all around. He had managed to get some extra tutoring time with Captain Neil after Kevin managed to finish his history paper a little early. Despite all of their fears and complaints Aaron, Nicky, and Matt all did manage to pass all of their finals and their classes.
The Tower was closing tomorrow for the rest of the year and despite checking almost every day with Nicky he still was invited to go to New York City with most of the team to stay at Allison’s house.
“Smithy, did you pack a swimsuit?” Nicky asks.
“Nicky, we’re going to New York for Christmas break. Do you think we’re going to swim?” Aaron asks incredulously.
“Two words, my fetus of a cousin: Hot. Tub.” Nicky holds his hand up and putting one finger up and then another. “Is hot tub two words?” Matt asks as he reaches for his own swim trunks.
“Yes Matt hot tub is two words.” FF says nodding.
“Thank you Smithster.” Matt says.
“I can’t believe you don’t know that hot tub is two words.” Aaron says with a huff.
“I can’t believe that you don’t know how to not be an asshole even after you started getting regular sex with Katelyn.” Matt returns, “Look at how not a thing that was when Smithster answered it.” he gestures to FF.
“You cannot compare Smithy to Aaron. Apples and Tomatoes.” Nicky dismisses.
“Whatever, so Allison got a hot tub at her place?” Aaron moves past the conversation.
“Aaron you just made fun of Matt for asking stupid questions.” Nicky says with a hand on his cheek.
“I fucking hate being part of your family.” Aaron says without any real heat.
“Yeah sure.” Nicky says, rolling his eyes and smiling as he saw Aaron packing swim trunks that FF knew he had bought for his cousin.
“Okay, I’ve got the packing list that Allison sent. Do we wanna run through it so that we’re all properly packed?” Matt says holding up his phone.
“Yeah, let’s run through it.” Nicky says with a sigh.
They went through Allison’s provided list twice and then zipped up their suitcases. Smith was going to be driving to the airport with Matt. Neil and Andrew were going to be driving the Maserati up alone while the rest of them were going to be flying up to New York City.
Now onto something that filled FF with far more dread than simply passing tests that determined whether or not he continued to get a free ride in college.
Meeting new people.
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MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU
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