#Thank you Anna for reading this and editing it and letting me steal so many of your ideas

[apple-grass-and-smiles]

This Is Falling in Love in the Cruelest Way

I wrote something! It’s a miracle! Title is from “Come Back... Be Here” by Taylor Swift. Half of these ideas are actually from @the-wingway who is the best and I am very grateful that she read more than 2k words on this topic. So, yeah.

Some days are a feat to get through and March 24th is always a hard one for Colleen. The day brings back too many memories of a small funeral in Japan, a black dress soaked through with rainwater, and an obituary with her grandfather’s favorite saying printed in bold, black ink. Before she could at least take comfort in the knowledge that at least the loss of her grandfather had led to Bakuto and her new family and purpose within the Hand. Not this year. This year March 24th seems to mock her and all the progress she’s worked to make. She’s hung up her katana and she and Danny are almost done with the plans to remodel the dojo. She’s put in the blood, sweat, and tears that she needed to to move past Bakuto and the betrayal that ripped her life in two, but all that progress seems like a joke at 4:16 in the morning on March 24th as she sits alone at the table with a deep-seated fear beginning to bare its ugly head.

Abandoned, Colleen’s heart seems to say with every beat. She hadn’t gone to sleep, planning instead to stay up until Danny came home like she usually did. Midnight had passed with only a slight twinge of pain as the 24th had rolled around, but she’d been able to turn back to the immigration papers she was determined to finish. She had finished those around 2:00 and she put the kettle on the stove so that she and Danny could have tea when he got home any moment. 3:00 had seen her pacing the small apartment, the water in the kettle cold. By 3:30 she was nearing panic. Where was he? Had he been hurt? No, he was good. He knew what he was doing. He would have called if he was hurt. Unless it was really bad. No, he was fine.

She had calmed herself down by 3:50. But as the clock had neared 4:00 and then crept past it her heart started beating it’s familiar refrain: He’s never been out this late. He’s gone. You’re alone. No one has ever wanted you. Happiness fades and people leave. You mother left. Your father gave you up. Your grandmother isn’t here. Your grandfather died. Bakuto never cared. Why should Danny be any different?

Those are the thoughts that she snaps out of at 4:16 when she hears the key being inserted into the apartment door’s lock and Danny steps in, slightly bruised but completely fine. Danny- kind, loving Danny- looks exhausted and Colleen knows it’s a losing battle as she tries to fight back the tears that are brimming in her eyes. It’s stupid to cry out of relief or at least that’s what Colleen has always thought, but the sight of Danny standing in the doorway, taking off his shoes, alive and here is enough to make dam that has kept her from sobbing since midnight break. The tears are coming before she can stop them and Colleen finds herself frantically trying to turn the stove back on, to get the water hot, to make tea, to find some semblance of normalcy so she can distance herself from this weak girl who cries on the anniversary of her grandfather’s death because her boyfriend showed up a couple hours later than he normally did.

But, thankfully (or perhaps not), Danny knows her well enough to tell that something is off. Maybe one day Colleen will ask what the tip off is. Is it the way her shoulders curl in? Does the gait of her steps change? Is it some mystical superpower he learned surrounded by robed monks in a strange city? (It’s the fact that he loves her and so he makes it a priority to learn her, but he’ll never tell her that.)

His voice is soft as he wraps his arms around her middle and rests his chin on her right shoulder, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she mumbles, pouring steaming water into two identical cups and turning slightly to grab the tea bags. “Just tired.”

Danny is silent for a second before letting her go so she can put the box of tea back in the cupboard. It took a while to realize but he knows that more often than not questions will shut Colleen down, but sometimes, if she really wants to share what’s on her mind, sitting silently will get her to open up. So he takes his cup and follows Colleen as she goes to sit on the bed. They sit there in silence, arms just barely touching, for what feels like forever. The tea bags have colored the water in their cups and the drink is nearly cool enough for them to drink it when Colleen sits up straighter and looks down at her hands.

“My grandfather died today,” Colleen murmurs, looking down at her hands.

“Well, obviously not today, but it’s the anniversary. And it’s just hard. He’s the one to trained me and I am grateful for that. That training is precious and something I am proud of but…” Colleen’s deep inhale and pause fills the room for a moment.

“But because of that training and because he died, Bakuto took an interest in me. I love my grandfather but he’s died and that is the reason I ended up with Bakuto. And then Bakuto… Bakuto turned out to be lying and I just am so tired.” Silence fills the room for a half a moment as Colleen releases her shaky breathes and Danny fights the urge to reach out and comfort her. It’s taken some time but he’s learning that sometimes physical touch isn’t the way to fix things for Colleen, but the urge to touch her is at war with that knowledge and he doesn’t quite know which will win out.

“ I can’t survive another person leaving me but I feel like that’s all that has ever happened and will ever happen and what if I’m just doomed to be alone and-” Colleen stops, stand abruptly, and moves to step away before Danny catches her arm.

His blue eyes are kind and full of concern as he whispers, “Hey. Come here.” Colleen’s eyes flutter closed and she lets out a small breath before letting him gently pull her back down on the edge of the bed. He lets her go, but only for a moment as he takes her cup and sets it on the ground next to his before turning to face her on the bed, both legs curled up and each of his hands holding one of hers.

“Hey, look at me,” his voice is quiet and imploring as he gently turns Colleen’s face towards his. He tries so hard to say all the words he can’t seem to formulate into sentences with his eyes as all that slips out is, “I’m not leaving.”

Colleen had thought the dam that had kept her from crying had broken when Danny came in the apartment. She was wrong. That had been a crack in the foundation, but this? This is a flood. The tears start before she can stop them and in a second her face is wet and her breaths are unsteady and it feels like her entire world is collapsing in on itself.

“I thought you had left, Danny. When you didn’t come back when you normally do. It was stupid and I hate myself for it but I thought you had left. Everyone leaves, Danny. Everyone. My mom, my dad, my grandparents, Bakuto, everyone. What do I have to do; who do I have to be to get people to stay? I always thought that maybe if I were just that much more disciplined, just a bit smarter, just a little better in training that maybe people would think I was worth staying for. But I never am. And now you’re here and I thought you had left. I think I love you and I thought you had left just like everyone else and I don’t want you to leave. I just want someone to decide to stay for me.”

That particular night Danny had been punched no less than 14 times and not a single one had hurt a fraction as much as the words seemingly falling out of Colleen’s mouth did. He imagined that perhaps what he was feeling was something similar to how people felt when he punched with the Iron Fist. The ground could have opened up right below them and swallowed them whole and Danny truly thinks that he might not have noticed. Colleen’s words are flying through his head at the speed of light (Everyone leaves. I thought you left. I want someone to stay. I think I love you. I think I love you. I think I love you.) and he can’t seem to make his brain formulate anything to say. And he should say something. Right? Instead, in a moment that feels a bit like a miracle to Danny as he works to process everything that Colleen has just shared, his body takes over. One of the biggest changes between living with his parents and K’un Lun had been physical touch. His parents hugged him, kissed him, held his hands like it was the most natural thing in the world. K’un Lun didn’t have that same attitude towards comforting contact but Danny had worked to keep that instinct that his parents had given him during the decade they had together. And with a tearful Colleen beside him and a whirlwind of thoughts in his head, Danny’s instincts take over. One arm goes around her shoulders, his other hand gently pushing her head to rest on his shoulder before taking her hand in his own. And for a what feels like a long while, that alone is enough. Colleen’s tears slow, their heart beats return to normal, Danny feels that he finally understands.

“You thought I’d left because you weren’t enough?”

He can’t see her head move, but Danny feels her nod against his shoulder.

“Colleen, I don’t think you realize how incapable I am of leaving you. I think it’d be like cutting my arm off. I am never, ever leaving you,” Danny turns slightly, bending his head so that he can look her in the eyes. “We’re forever, you and I. There is no going back from this. Leaving you hasn’t been an option for a very long time. I promise. Do you trust me when I say that I’m not leaving?”

Colleen straightens up, looks him right in the eye, and smiles. But deep inside she knows that no matter how much Danny promises that they’ll be them forever, such promises can’t always be kept. Her mom promised she’d be there for Colleen for forever and that wasn’t true. Bakuto said he and the Hand would be part of her life until she died and he had stabbed her in the back. He dad was supposed to be a constant presence and he had passed her off to her grandfather without a thought. Deep down, she knows that Danny believes every word he says, but a deeper part of her knows that sometimes people change and sometimes those changes bring broken promises. But for now she gives him a small smile and nods, confirming her that she trusts him (and giving him another small piece of her heart and praying to any diety that may exist that he won’t break it).

The tiny smile Colleen gives Danny is perhaps the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. She looks exhausted and her eyes are red and he wishes she never felt this heartbroken but he thinks that perhaps this is the most beautiful she’s ever been. They’ve known each other for a little under a year now and he knows how hard it is for Colleen to open up. This, this confession of fear, is a sign of trust. She trusts him not to leave and to not share her fears with others. And, truth be told, he’d give up the Iron Fist in an instant to always feel this close to her. He’d fight a dragon every single day if it meant that she didn’t have to feel sad or scared or abandoned.

Once, when he was very young, his father told him about how he felt about Danny’s mother. His father, a man who seemed a thousand feet tall to young Danny and made him feel safer than anyone else, had promised that one day Danny would find someone who he would gladly give his heart and soul to. Now, here, more than 15 years later, Danny finally knew what his father meant. And maybe, just maybe, if he gave Colleen enough of his soul she might start to be able to love herself the way he loved her. Until then…

“Did you say you loved me?”

Colleen let out a sharp laugh, looking up at the ceiling. “Of course you’d catch that. Why can’t you be like other guys and not actually listen to me?”

“But then I’d miss these chances to tell you that I love you too.” Colleen’s eyes snapped back down to his instantly. “I meant what I said, Colleen. We’re forever. We are bonded whether you like it or not and that means that I love you.” The harsh laugh that had escaped Colleen only moments earlier turns into a lighter, more loving sound now, a small, relieved sound that makes Danny’s heart sing. She touches his face before leaning in for a kiss. His hand runs through her hair as they pull apart.

“Forever?” Colleen whispers.

Danny nods, “Yeah.”

“That sounds perfect,” the two people close the gap between them once again as lips meet lips and hands meet cheeks and breathes are shared between two people, each of whom firmly holds the other’s heart in their hands. As night turns to morning and 4:00 turns to 5:00 there’s a sense that maybe it doesn’t have to hurt to fall in love.

[reidscanehand]

as dawn steals by

Based on this anonymous request: 2 and 27 from the love prompt list please! and congratulations on such an achievement xx

Thank you so much, babe! And I hope you like this xx 

Prompt: 

2. "You’re so cute when you’re sleepy.”

27. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you. You’re an angel when you’re sleeping.”

Pairing: Spencer Reid x ASMRtist Reader

Category: Comfort/Fluff (maybe mild angst?)

TW: Mentions of insomnia, trauma from BAU cases

Word Count: 2500 

This has been sitting as a document on my computer for an embarassingly long time. I still kind of feel like it isn’t...great. But, you guys are always so supportive of me and I feel like I have to deliver something in return. I edited it a few times over, but if you absolutely hate it, I’m so sorry! Also it’s 2.5k words because I hit 2.5k followers! Thank you so much for your support! 

Spencer Reid having trouble sleeping isn’t exactly news for the rest of the BAU team. His eye bags and ridiculous coffee consumption had been the butt of many jokes and the cause of many a concerned glance since he started at the BAU at just 23. Even now, nearly seven years since he joined the team, it’s still concerning. And Penelope Garcia has had enough of it. 

“Ow!” Spencer gripes as Garcia drags him by the elbow to her batcave. “Garcia, did I do something wrong?” 

Penelope doesn’t respond until the two of them are in her office, but then she releases his arm only to turn on him aggressively, “When was the last time you slept, 187? 

Spencer’s eyes widen, “That’s what this is about? I thought I’d done something seriously wrong-”

“Oh, you have,” interrupts Penelope. “It’s not safe for you to do this job without proper sleep.” 

Spencer leans against the door, crossing his arms around himself protectively, his eyes dropping to his sneakers, “I mean...it’s not like any of us have a healthy sleep schedule.”

“Most of us at least try to have one when we aren’t working on a case,” Penelope tells him, slyly sitting in her chair to meet his gaze. “Look, I know you’ve never been much of a sleeper, but I’m your friend and I’m worried about you.”

“Thanks...thanks, Garcia,” Spencer replies, his voice quieter now. “I...I just can’t seem to...” he trails off. Penelope sighs gently and pats the seat next to her. Spencer sighs and sits next to her, still looking slightly dejected. 

“I know it’s hard for you to shut off that great, big brain of yours, Reid,” Penelope says, trying to ease the tension she can practically feel taking hold of his brain as he settles next to her. “But, I had an idea...have you ever heard of ASMR?”

“Autonomous sensory meridian response?” Spencer asks by way of response. “Sure.” 

“Okay, well there are these people on the internet called ASMRtists. They make free videos of themselves performing ASMR triggers. They’re all over YouTube,” Penelope finishes her statement and looks hopefully at Spencer, who looks less than convinced by this idea.

“Um...okay,” Spencer nods slowly. “And you think this could help me?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Penelope agrees. “Specifically, I think she could help you.” She redirects his attention to the screen. Spencer’s face burns bright red as he meets the stunning eyes of the girl on screen. Penelope looks over at Spencer’s face, blushing and eyes wide, and barely contains her smirk. 

“This,” she states dramatically, “is Y/N Y/L/N. Or, on YouTube she goes by Tiny Tolstoy Triggers.”

“Tolstoy?” Spencer asks, not looking away from the screen. 

Penelope fully smirks now, “Yes, Tolstoy. She started out on YouTube by doing whispered readings of War and Peace and Anna Karenina. She does some other content now, but she kept the same name even after gaining some followers.” Penelope almost lets out a giggle when she looks over at Spencer, who is completely enraptured by the video in front of him - a video that isn’t even playing yet. Penelope knew, or had at least hoped, he’d enjoy Y/N’s ASMR content, but she hadn’t counted on him being so easily enchanted by Y/N herself. 

“Cool,” Spencer rasps in response. His eyes still locked on the screen, he clears his throat, “So, um, where do...where would I find her reading videos?” 

~~~

Upon arriving at home, Spencer attempts, albeit rather incredibly unsuccessfully, not to think about Y/N. He’s intrigued, sure, but, after years of struggling with insomnia, he’s not sure it will do him any good. Even worse, he’s embarrassingly concerned about how very attractive he finds her. 

He avoids it for a while. He scans his bookshelf, almost compulsorily grabbing War and Peace, only to pick Life and Fate and settling in to read it. Despite this effort, he finds himself barely able to focus on the book, wondering if she would enjoy the works of Vasily Grossman as much as she seems to enjoy Tolstoy. He makes it to dinner time and, after shoveling down a leftover container of pad thai, his curiosity wins out. Sitting down and opening his laptop, a device he possesses for work and work only, he manages to open his email and find the link that Garcia sent to Y/N’s videos. He clicks the link after a moment of contemplation. The beautiful face from earlier in the day fills the screen and he takes a deep breath. God, she’s so pretty. 

Spencer does a bit of investigating around her uploads. He clicks on an older video, simply named War and Peace - Book 12, Chapter 3. The second he clicks it, he knows he’s in trouble. She is so utterly enchanting, it’s almost absurd. Her eyes light up as she reads and her voice is gentle and quiet, but intelligent. She seems to fully understand every word she reads, giving life to each moment of one of his favorite books. 

Now in full investigation mode, Spencer looks through some of her other videos, clicking on a recent upload titled Q&A for 75k Subscribers! Delighted by the idea of finding out more about her, he soon regrets his decision. The more he finds out about her, the stronger the feeling in his chest grows, a feeling he tries desperately to avoid at all costs. 

“_merelyhere_ asks: ‘Why do you enjoy Tolstoy so much?’” Y/N giggles delightfully at the question and then sits up a little straighter from her criss crossed position in front of the camera. “Well, here’s the thing...there’s something...huh, you know? I don’t really know. I remember the first time I read War and Peace and it just...there was something so passionate about it, which was so unexpected.” Y/N grins to herself, her eyes lighting up. Spencer can feel his heart lurching in his chest, as though it was desperate to reach out to the delightful creature on his laptop screen. 

“I’d always heard that Russian literature was boring,” Y/N continues, still grinning, her soft voice trembling with excitement in an attempt to keep her volume low. “And it’s hard not to expect that, I mean, most Russian literature is so long, I mean the books are huge. I always felt like I wouldn’t be smart enough to read them. I picked up a copy at a Yard Sale and it just... it really taught me - God, this is going to sound so cheesy but - to never judge a book by its cover. I mean, take War and Peace. My favorite character is the peasant, Platon Karataev because Pierre, and Tolstoy, really, so highly respect his commonplace nature. In that time, he would’ve been looked down upon by Russian elites, but Tolstoy just clearly loves this character so much...it just really brings up the themes of the novel, which is all about really valuing the human experience just as it is rather than detaching yourself from it….am I boring you?”

Her question should surprise him, but it doesn’t, and he can practically feel the sparkle in his eyes.

“You never bore me,” he replies, dreamily. 

Y/N smiles at him, she runs her hands through his curls and coos, “You’re so cute when you’re sleepy.”

“I’m not sleepy,” Spencer argues, staring up at her, “I just love you.” He’s about to take her face in his hands, about to caress her jaw and kiss her and - 

Spencer snaps awake, his laptop now dead in front of him. He blinks, confused by the soft light in his apartment. He sits up, his bones aching. The pleasant light of dawn fills his living room and Spencer realizes: he slept. For a while. Like, a significant amount of time. The memories of his dream rush back to him and he can feel a blush crawling up his neck. 

Of course he would be falling in love with the only sleep cure he’d ever found. 

~~~

It is rare for Penelope Garcia to be furious, especially at her friends. Spencer had been making such good progress on improving his sleep schedule and she was so proud, plus she loved teasing him about Y/N Y/L/N, especially when he’d asked for help to make a YouTube account so he could subscribe to her channel. She’d let him off the hook during the last case, knowing that solving the crime took precedence. She’d even allowed a couple of days for him to get back on track. Now, two weeks later, Spencer’s eye bags were more prominent than ever and his dependency on coffee was verging on criminal. Once again, she drags him by his elbow to her batcave, with notably less resistance than the last time. She closes the door behind herself and turns to see Spencer sheepishly avoiding her glare. 

“And just what,” she begins, “do you have to say for yourself?” 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer grumbles. When he offers no explanation, Penelope sighs dramatically. 

“Junior G-man,” she whines, “I thought we were past this? You were doing so well. What about Y/N? I thought that was working for-” she cuts herself off when she notices Spencer’s shoulders tense at the mention of Y/N’s name. “What are you not telling me, 187?”

“Nothing,” Spencer mumbles, “there’s nothing to tell. I’ve read that some people can develop ASMR immunity if they overexpose themselves to the content and-”

Penelope tuts,. “I do not allow lying in my batcave.” 

Spencer stares at her, his eyes narrowing teasingly, “You could be a profiler, you know? It’s...it’s Y/N.”

“What’s wrong with her?” At Penelope’s question, Spencer’s eyes grow wide defensively.

“Nothing,” he corrects quickly. “Absolutely nothing...that’s the problem.”

It hits Penelope all at once, “Oh my God! You like her!” 

Spencer grimaces, “I just...she’s so lovely and she seems so kind and...and she’s so smart and funny and interesting and endearing and I….I kept having dreams about her so I had to stop watching her and now I can’t sleep.” 

“Aw, 187,” Penelope sympathetically replies. “What kind of dreams?”

“They were sweet, nothing weird,” Spencer blushes. “She would just...I don’t know, just talk to me.”

“What does she say?” Penelope asks. 

Spencer furrows his brows and shuts his eyes, “Last time I had a dream with her was two weeks ago and she...she sat with me on my couch and I guess I moved or something? And she said, ‘Sorry. I didn’t want to wake you. You’re an angel when you’re sleeping.’ I told her that she’s the angelic one and then she smiled and I thought we were going to...to kiss or something…” Spencer’s eyes snapped open, filled with sadness, “And then I woke up. I just...I feel so pathetic.” 

“You’re not pathetic, Reid,” Penelope whispers. Spencer opens his mouth to say something, but closes it, shaking his head. 

“It’s inarguably pathetic to fall in love with someone you can’t have.” With that, Spencer leaves the batcave. 

Penelope slumps in her seat, brows furrowed, a determination setting in as she types Y/N Y/L/N into her database. “We’ll see about that.”

~~~

“Come on, Reid,” Penelope demands, standing above his desk. It’s a quarter past six and he should’ve left already so he looks up in confusion at the blond.

“Where...where are we going?” 

“I feel like I owe you for the whole...ASMR thing, so...I found a reading of that Gross book you like at the local library. There’s a new-”

“Are you talking about the new translation of Vasily Grossman’s wartime journals?” Spencer asks, his eyes growing wide with excitement.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Garcia nods. 

“You don’t have to do this-”

“I want to,” Garcia interrupts. “It’s my fault you started watching her at all. Besides, I feel kind of bad for this translator, I think we might be the only ones going.” 

“There aren’t that many Grossman fans out there, that’s for sure,” Spencer agrees, gathering his things.”

“We’ll see about that, won’t we?” Garcia whispers to herself, but Spencer hears it, deciding not to say anything. She says nothing more like that as the two of them head out, Garcia offering to drive. While not crowded by any means, they are two of about ten people in attendance, so they find seats without any trouble. There’s about twenty minutes until the reading begins and Garcia is restless in her seat, looking all around them.

“Garcia,” Spencer whispers, concerned by her fidgeting, “I know this isn’t exactly your idea of a good time. I appreciate the thought, but if you wanna go-”

“We can’t leave, Reid!” Penelope all but yells in his face. “This is very important.” This last statement is very odd and he’s just about to question it when Garcia’s face lights up. “She’s here!”

“The translator is a ‘he’, Garcia.”

“No, 187,” she grabs his chin, turning his head to face over his shoulder. “She’s here.” 

Spencer can feel his eyes widening what is likely a dangerous amount. Because there, in the flesh, is Y/N Y/L/N. He swallows deeply, turning back around and gasping for air, “Oh my God. We have to go.”

“We can’t leave, Einstein,” Penelope insists and, to his horror, she begins to wave down the poor woman. “We have her ticket.” 

“What?” he whispers in shock. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Spencer turns to face the woman of his dreams, her voice just as gentle as it is in her videos. 

“No, not at all,” answers Garcia. “In fact, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to run to the restroom before the reading starts. This is Spencer, by the way, Dr. Spencer Reid, the man I mentioned on the phone. I’ll let you two get acquainted.” And just like that, Penelope is scurrying away as quickly as her little heels will let her. 

“This is super weird, I know,” Y/N says gently, “but would you mind if I sat down?”

“Not...not at all,” Spencer rasps, unable to gain control of his voice. “So...Penelope called you?”

“She found me,” Y/N nods. “I’d say it was kind of creepy, but...she told me about a certain FBI agent who was very invested in the woman behind the ASMR videos and once she started telling me about him, I knew I just had to meet him.” 

Spencer can feel the blush growing in his cheeks, but he can’t tell if it’s embarrassment or joy at this point. “Just had to meet him, huh?”

“Well, it’s not every day you find out that one of your fans is an FBI profiler and a doctor with three PhDs and a fan of Russian literature. 

“It’s not every day the girl of your dreams shows up at a reading of a new translation of one of your favorite books,” Spencer admits, the words falling out of his mouth before he can corral them. “I’m sor-”

“Girl of your dreams?” Y/N smiles, her hand resting on the top of his. 

His face smiles through his anxiety, “If you’re interested in that title, sure.”

“I’m more than interested, Dr. Reid,” she replies. “Would you maybe want to...get a coffee after this? I know it’s kind of late but-”

“I’d likely be awake anyway; I have insomnia,” Spencer cuts her off. “I would absolutely love that.”

“An insomniac, you say?” she teases, “I’ve heard that’s one of my specialties, curing insomnia. Though, I’ve heard my cures can cause some pretty wild dreams.”

Spencer stares at her in utter amazement, “This is already better than a dream. It’s real.” 

~~~

Link to 2k Party Masterlist

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[nostalgic-pancakes]

Watching the starlings as autumn draws in

Summary: Tommy and his friends try on some skirts, and he reflects a bit on how they all got here. (It's a happy story) Title from September by Sparky Deathcap

Pairings: None! Platonic everyone (esp in irl fics_)

Read on AO3 (preferred place to read)

Word count: 2570

Warnings: None, except for surface-level references to the exile/prison arcs, but not much.

Other notes: I wrote this in a fit of madness last night in like three hours at 2 am, so i’ll probably edit it honestly but for now, enjoy! (If the CC’s ever display discomfort with this type of fic I will take it down)

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"WELCOME BACK TO THE STREAM, BOYS!" Tommy exclaims, rubbing his hands together as he starts rapid-fire answering questions about the stream, and the stream title from chat. It's funny, how over time, Tommy's come to see Chat as this one entity- an old friend. The nervousness of answering questions as a fifteen year old with nothing but a big personality, a twitch account and a copy of Minecraft is all but gone now, nineteen years old and happier than he's ever been.

Dreadfulzombie19: what are u doin this stream

"THANK YOU FOR ASKING, Dreadfulzombie19, today is gonna be a bit different, innit Tubbo?" Tommy raises his voice a bit at the end of his sentence, just loud enough for one of his flatmates to hear him. When Tubbo yells back an affirmative, Tommy turns back to his setup. Chat's gone a bit wild again, even though he, Tubbo and Ranboo have been living together for over a year now.

"Okay, okay, calm down chat- so recently I was at university, as usual right? And I had an eight AM class again, and… yeah I can see you all can relate."

"BUT! BUT! On my way back to the flat, I saw something really cool." Tommy hesitates in his speech to take a sip of coke again- his blood pressure's been acting up lately and watches Chat to wild again, asking him what he saw.

"Okay, so there was a shop- new place, which doesn't happen often this is fucking Brighton- and they sold skirts and dresses and stuff with adjustments for AMAB sizes!" Chat goes a bit bonkers, but Tommy's mod team- a little smaller than it used to be, now that he isn't the centre of YouTube or Twitch attention anymore, none of them are- are handling it, and pretty well.

"So I had to go, right? As many of you probably know, last year, I made the astounding discovery that gender-based stereotypes and expectations are, in fact, fake and I should not give a SHIT. And so I go in and look through the stuff- it's a really poggers shop by the way, and I find the perfect thing- it was the most poggers skirts and shit, okay? So, today's stream is going to have me wearing this pogchamp shit and wearing it right, with the help of…" Tommy ends his monologue by picking up the joke shaker-things that Phil had gotten him as a housewarming gift last year and indicates for his first two helpers to enter the office.

In walks his mother, face obscured from view as always, waving to the camera, and Wilbur, also wearing one of his only skirts for this occasion. Eret had taught him, on a phonecall in the skirt shop that week about the different types of skirts with a handy diagram. Wilbur's was a pleated circle skirt, brown to offset the bright yellow of his sweater and beanie, the same colour as his hair. It's very swoosh-y, so he's wearing black leggings with his regular shoes too. Motherinnit's also wearing her favourite skirt, a baby blue prairie skirt, Tommy thinks, and it's one he's seen fairly often.

Wilbur ducks down in order to show his face to Chat, and ruffles Tommy's hair while he's at it. Tommy's taller, but not by much, so Wilbur still fucking makes short jokes, That fucker.

Chat is now going so fast that he simply cannot read anything but some of the all caps messages and can barely make out some of the emotes.

"Okay, OKAY, CALM DOWN CHAT! WE HAVE TO GET TO FUCKING BUSINESS!" Tommy yells into the mix, like he did when he was sixteen and used the 'many people find me annoying at first' intro. Nowadays he just lets the content speak for itself. Anyone who wants to be here already is, by now.

Wilbur laughs a bit, and that hasn't changed at all. "Tommy, how is chat supposed to calm down if you're not calm?"

"I am their god!! They will obey via sheer digital willpower!" Tommy replies back, pretty zealously (What? An English Literature class is mandatory for his film degree, and The Great Gatsby by Zelda Fitzgerald is a good book, as are most of the other assigned ones. He's had entire conversations with Techno with just lit quotes and it drives everyone insane. Tommy loves it.) Chat seemingly has listened to his godlike abilities, with a few OG's spotting his half-quotation of one of Dream's last lines in the Dream SMP. The rest are spamming 'MOTHERINNIT'.

"If having a shitty magic trick book from a washed-up politician makes you a god, then what does that make me?" Wilbur replies, with one of Foolish's lines and swatting his hand at Tommy. Tommy swats back.

"Bitch" "Arsehole" "Shithead" "Fuckface" Wilbur finishes cheerily, as if this happens all the time. It does. Chat's used their antics now, four years of consistently making content together will do that for you.

Eventually Motherinnit reminds them both to get back on Topic, and Tommy goes back to facing the camera, addressing Chat directly.

"Today, my beloved mother, and my idiot brother-" "hey!" "And maybe my flatmates will be joining me to show off some cool as SHIT skirts! And a dress or two. We all have our selections, right?" Everyone nods in affirmative, even Tubbo and Ranboo. Though the camera can't see them. Ranboo's just come home from his final class, then. He should probably take the first hour back off, and judging by how Tubbo is forcefully judging Ranboo to the shower, he probably gets it. Tommy signs an affirmative to both of them, and gets back to the camera, where Wilbur's showing off all of his (very poggers) very stupid brown or yellow skirts. Tommy's are in cool colours, for fuck's sake.

"Oh yeah, Puffy just confirmed she'll be on stream! She'll be here in about twenty minutes, accounting for fucking traffic, and Niki' going to get onto VC after her own stream, what game is it this time?"

"GRIS." Wilbur answers.

"Poggers- she is the SHIT and will join us soon! So expect some QUALITY QUALITY content this stream!! Remember to not spam her chat to finish faster." Exclaims Tommy, even if it ends up as a light warning, as he picks up his own very poggers skirts from the extra armchair in his office to show the camera.

One is the classic red and white, mostly white but with bright red on the waist (elastic) and the bottom, and it reached to about Tommy's knee, if worn at the hip. It had no pleats, but the red bits were a very nice velvet texture, and while the skirt was heavy, it still had very much swoosh value, and pockets!! Big ones!! He slips the skirt on top of his jeans before entering camera view, the skirt visible in all its classic Tommyinnit glory, as he takes his place right next to Wilbur, who just took. a quick spin at the behest of several dono's., Skirt spying out from his lower shins all the way to his knee, making visible one of his (many) petticoats. ("What? It's cold all the fucking time here, Toms.") Tommy also makes a quick little spin, skirt flying outward, not upward, so it looks like he's hula hooping for a moment there. Lastly, Motherinnit spins around too, and while her skirts do not swoosh, she looks opulent, like she was about to go to waltz with the enemy, for whom she has a dagger in the back of her dress for. (He finished Anna Karenina and the Six of Crows duology within the same week and has not yet recovered. Jack Edwards is laughing at him as he thinks in his English Lit Graduate glory.)

It's fun, trying on different skirts- he and Wilbur accidentally bought the same dress at one point, which they paired up to wear, darting off into their respective changing rooms while giggling like idiots with their checkered blouses and the grindl skirts that Niki had sent over when she heard of this stream idea, laughing the whole time. Tubbo enters as dramatically as possible with Puffy, and while Tubbo looks really fucking good in his handkerchief skirt with embroidered bees and plain white shirt, it's Puffy who steals the show with an exact, real life version of her red banquet dress.

Fans from way back in the SMP, before Tommy had started branching out start going insane and are bringing back emotes Tommy wasn't sure were still available, but she is fucking stunning- deep shades of red and crimson, with slits on either side of her waist and all the detailing. She'd gotten the contact for her dressmaker through Bernadette Banner, Tommy recalls- she was so fucking cool when she streamed with him once, and gotten him to swear less and supplant those world's with bigger ones to intimidate instead. While he still curses like a sailor as part of his persona, it's less so and he does way less in real life these days, unless the situation calls for it. It's also just rude, especially in uni libraries, where he spends too much time these days wondering why he didn't read more as a kid.

Puffy's stolen his audience for a WHILE, and Niki coming on hasn't helped any, so Tommy exits camera view for a while to hug Ranboo really quickly- he's had midterms and has basically been dying all month.

Everyone on this stream- Tommy, Wilbur, Motherinnit, Tubbo, Puffy, Niki and Ranboo enter the camera frame after entering their dressing rooms for the last time on this particular stream, Puffy with full in-character wigs and makeup, Tommy in an Edwardian-Gothic reminiscent black and red dress, Ranboo in something he bought when he gap-yeared in Japan, punk lolita or something, Niki flaunting her pink in a Marie Antoinette style show of finery, Tubbo dressing in all green this time, something like a very deranged biology teacher who hasn't slept in days (Tubbo hasn't-Tommy has to get into that), Wilbur like a forest-nymph, all earthy tones and swishy fabrics and nature highlights, and finally Motherinnit, who hasn't changed but is here to take pictures as they all lean in together to fit into frame, as drastic as their height difference is. Niki is going to be edited in later, and everyone on the 'Dream SMP but nobody does Dream SMP and we're all fucking nerds' discord server is going to get a copy.

The stream wraps up there, after about two hours, and it's only about six in the evening- a far cry from the late nights and long hours from the beginning of Tommy's career, so everyone runs to their changing areas for the last time, into pajamas now, and packs away all of the clothes they wore, properly, as to not incense Karolina Zebrowska, and Jemma, Dan's wife, who would look at them disappointedly and nobody wants a sad Jemma because that means no cooing at their son. Also it just feels shitty.

Everyone huddles in Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo's living room, and they out on UP for like, the millionth fucking time (they still cry when Ellie dies), and Tommy is leaning into Wilbur's side and feeling his mum play with the hair in his very small, stubby ponytail he's developed by being in Uni as he and Tubbo intertwine their legs together and Ranboo rests his head in the tangle of limbs, playing with his fidget cube. Puffy stays on Wilbur's side, intently texting someone and smiling the whole while, and Tommy takes a moment to reflect (something he's been getting better at doing) on how the actual hell they all got here.

The Dream SMP was always going to end- everyone knew it, if course, they were the fucking writers. But by the time they did, not only were their respective brands too closely intertwined to just… sever that quickly, but they'd become too close to even want to. So the SMP discord never shut, even though Dream and George had planned it months ago, and they continued supporting each other with their interests. Wilbur made a lot more music solo, with his band and even just random ass streams where he practiced guitar for an hour. He kept playing Minecraft, but it wasn't his main focus. A bunch of people left. More stayed. YouTube left him alone.

Dream, George and Sapnap are still Minecraft streamers, but their YouTube channels are mostly blogs of them being poor excuses of adults with other former SMP members joining in sometimes. Tommy and the Dream Team were closer than ever, even though the seeds of their friendship had been sowed when they used to linger after heavy streams together, reassuring each other that none of that was true and that nothing like… that would happen in real life, because Dream had used real abuse tactics, and those still hurt unless immediately taken care of. So they were. It was a running joke that Dream was stuck at 99 million subscribers since nobody really wanted the face reveal anymore. The other Dream team members were doing peachy.

Phil and Techno were also still primarily Minecraft streamers, but they also released things like advice videos and mental health stuff, especially for relationships. They had a new scripted series where Tommy was a minor character. The dadza jokes were still as real, and yes, outside of streaming, both of them were lovely people and responsible adults (mostly). They collaborated with DanTDM and co a lot more now.

Puffy and Niki kept doing games, but did lots of different ones, testing point and clickers to triple A titles, and making it all fucking hilarious while they were at it.

So where had that left Tommy?

After the Dream SMP, he'd kind of had no idea what to do, and he was going to University for the first time, so he just… did whatever he thought would be fun. He learned about vintage fashion from the queens themselves- Mina Le, Bernadette Banner and Karolina Zebrowska and had fun learning how to sew for the first time, fixing and making his own clothes for the first time, clunky as they were, Wilbur had cried, genuinely, when he saw the Lovejoy shirts that Tommy had made for the band. He'd found a genuine love for literature in university, so Tommy started talking to booktubers and studytubers like Jack Edwards and Noelle Stevenson. Tubbo and Ranboo had joined him, fucking around in any YouTube niche they found even remotely interesting. Eventually, they all found a happy medium- a bit of everything.

Some people obviously weren't happy with that but Tommy was happy as he was, making what he liked with his best friend's, living together close enough to most of their friends (family) to have fun and drop in on one another at ass-o-clock in the morning to comfort, to laugh. His sub count hasn't gone up in a while- most of his audience is static, with about 80-90k online on a stream at any time.p

It was a nice feeling, to have carved out a space for himself and the people he loves, and be is so, so glad that he got this chance.

Looking at his mostly asleep family, Tommy thinks 'yeah. Life is good.' as the last thought before he sleeps.

[ddcjas]

「 NIGGAS ONLY CLUB 101 — A COLLECTIVE OF URBAN INDIE ROLEPLAYERS.」

i was gonna say something really witty and stupid to introduce myself, but most of you already know who the fuck i am or have some sort of general idea or concept about my enigmatic dumb ass, so here we go.

for those who may not know me, i’m known as a wonderful princess who goes by the alias raja and i bring you today a list of exclusively urban indie rpers in the community. by exclusive, i mean you SOLELY use the urban indie or indie urban rp tag as a means of posting starters, starter calls, interacting with other rpers and looking for mutuals — and obviously, this is hella important being that it seems that there’s only a few of us and it can feel really lonely sometimes when you feel like you’re excluded in the general indie tag or like you don’t have a place yet in the community. so fear not! below are a list of blogs who are either exclusively urban rpers or frequently use the tag for posting and answering starters — i placed everything under a read-more to condense the post & to keep everyone’s names somewhat confidential, so reblog if you wish to spread it among yourselves. viva la nigga!

ACTIVE ROLEPLAYERS —

these are the muns who are around more often than not, constantly looking for new plots and partners to write with, and are ready and willing to roleplay. includes new and long lasting members.

isolctions — me bitch raja, 18 years old. eastern time zone. formerly known as fcrinas, aspnss & thefcll.

mccdmuzik — fenty, 23 years old. eastern time zone. formerly known as a lot of fucking blogs, so just look for the alias fenty/fentea/musty.

hcncho —  wop, 20 years old. central time zone.

mekhilfiger — diamond, 18 years old. central time zone. currently a single muse, but also known as hennasai.

hiighsadity — eve, 21 years old. eastern time zone.

kcllybundy — tatiyana, 21 years old. eastern time zone.

ofmelancholics — tahira, 18+. eastern time zone. introduction post here.

stcddy — AB, 23 years old. eastern time zone.

xxxtcntvcion — carti, 18+. formerly known as blingblaww.

wcytoohcgh — gi, 23 years old. central time zone.

rcdbonc — key, 19 years old. eastern time zone.

japvnesedenim — 22 years old, eastern time zone.

trappcs — tuffy, 20 years old.

desvclvdo — honey, 26 years old. central time zone.

destructivs — storm, 22 years old. eastern time zone.

scweetie — jae, 20 years old. central time zone.

fcdedlcve — keisha, 24 years old. eastern time zone.

sctivas — m, 20 years old. central time zone. also known as pyrcmids.

sickomcde — icy, 21 years old. eastern time zone.

loveisliquor — anna, 21+. GMT (greenwich mean timezone).

velvetddys — mooch, 23 years old. eastern time zone.

puremcse — tropicana, 23 years old. eastern time zone.

x-kee-x — kee, 23 years old. eastern time zone.

bluetnts — mila, 21 years old. central time zone / eastern time zone.

bewaretheskye — kali, 26 years old. eastern time zone.

SEMI-ACTIVE/INACTIVE ROLEPLAYERS —

these are the muns who are either online periodically, on semi hiatus or on full hiatus, pending return. they still pop in from time to time though, and they’re suuuper chill so feel free to hit them up if you see them on your dash.

altadcna — kija, 22 years old. eastern time zone. formerly known as miillennials and barrymcre.

whoarevibes — 18+, formerly known as heartkiings and hoodspeare.

spilledinkisms — tianna, 22 years old.

ghcstfce — 18+, formerly known as mxtroboomin.

obscvne — linny, 20 years old. eastern time zone. formerly known as pllowtlks, expletiives, & villementvlity.

queenprattwrites — aj, 21 years old. central time zone.

hostilitics — written by raja, single muse account.

*honorable mention: luminarylore — alix/alex, 18+, pacific time zone. formerly known as too many goddamn blogs that she abandoned. while she’s not exclusively urban, she DOES write with virtually anyone and will absolutely, without a doubt, 100% love you and your muses. she’s also just an all around positive angel and amazing person to talk to and will hype you up all the time. again, she’s around often and isn’t exclusive, but i can’t NOT mention her crybaby cancer ass.

these are the blogs in full that i can think of and consider as urban indie writers. if i forgot to mention you or you missed out on the original post and consider yourself apart of this list, please let me know and i’ll edit you in!! keep in mind that some are more selective than others, but a simple IM and a conversation can go a long way. plotting isn’t the only end game here — strike up a conversation with these people too!! a lot of them are super nice and really great to just talk to & headcanon with for hours on end, and the best part of rping is often the closeness you have with partners you can also consider your friends. it also makes things go along much easier, and helps to make people a lot more comfortable when it comes down to writing. with that being said, i genuinely do hope this list helps a lot of you, especially new writers coming from group rps or who simply haven’t tried anything like this, feel more welcome and adjust well to indie. 

and while i can’t control what some of y’all do, please keep this in mind if you are NOT apart of this collective and happen to stumble upon this list: just because we consider ourselves as urban writers, doesn’t mean you can elicit some sort of fantasy or view us as some sort of stereotype. meaning, don’t hit up these blogs if you only want a black muse as your arm candy or to steal ideas from us/appropriate any cultural references you see being used/whatever the fuck you weirdos do. do not interact with these blogs if you only see the writers and their muses as “hood writers”. if you do, y’all can go fuck off and choke. thanks.

[evielynsdisneyfemslashfanfiction]

Here is Part 2 of You Must Return Home; - Honeymaren is a member of the people of the sun, of the Northuldra, a town to which my mother, the late Queen Iduna, belonged, to which my sister and I belong and when calling her wild, you are not only disrespecting her, but to me and the crown too - the room was starting to get cold, more than usual. - And besides, Honeymaren is also my friend and Kai may not have notified you, but she will be here for as long as I am and should be treated as a guest. 

- I ... I'm sorry, your highness - the woman bowed her head. 

- Well, because I hope this doesn't happen again. 

Elsa waved her hand indicating that she was retiring, which she did almost running, directed a distressed glance at the rider and hugged herself denoting how embarrassed she was. 

- Sorry for the bad experience - the blonde apologized. - Sometimes I forget that there are not very pleasant people and ... well, I don't know all the servants and ... 

- Hey, calm down, it's fine - Honeymaren put her hand on the blue-eyed young woman's shoulder. - It was my mistake when entering without warning, I think? I don't know how things work here. 

- No, no, it was not your mistake - assured the guardian. - Seriously, I'm sorry, you've been helping me here and this is the least you deserve. 

- Seriously, no problem, believe me, it would be worse if I had tried to steal something in the tribe, once Ryder tried and ended up hanging from a tree with a knife - the brunette laughed. - By the way, did you find anything useful in your search? 

- No, nothing. 

Both girls began to walk with a quieter Bruni by their side in the direction of Elsa's room. 

- I read all the reports and there is nothing out of the ordinary, it is as if your ship had disappeared, literally -, explained the young woman of pale complexion leaving a trail of frost where she passed for the enjoyment of the salamander. 

- And, as we know, things do not disappear alone, there must be something else - said Honeymaren. 

- Exactly! There is no record of bad weather or anything, just a small deviation that could be for anything - Elf snorted even more exasperated. - That's my only clue, I want to investigate it, but I don't know if it would be worth it. 

- And why not? - Asked the rider without giving importance to the notorious noise of ice being melted. 

- I don't know, it would be something very ... maniac? 

- Hey, you are looking for your sister, I do not see the maniac and, as they say, you should not leave a trunk without turning. 

Elsa placed her finger on her cheek thinking a little, finding the reason for a change of course was difficult, but not impossible, she should ask several captains, describe the stage as best as possible and ask them why they would change course in that place, that It would take weeks or even months, but it was either that or giving his sister totally disappeared.

- Yes, you are right, it will be exhausting and I will have to send many letters, but maybe I can find something -, the blonde looked smiling at her friend with a bias of hope. - Thank you. 

- You know you shouldn't give them to me. 

Both continued walking, this time without the noise made by Bruni's hot legs against the ice, until they reached the door of Elsa's room. The young spirit looked somewhat distressed at her partner who really didn't seem to care that they had stopped. 

- I, well, I have to get ready for the speech I'm going to give and ... Hmn ... -, the blonde's words were immediately interrupted by the brunette. 

- Are you going to give a speech? - Asked genuinely impressed. 

- Eh ... Yes, I will - Elsa confirmed. - Arendelle is quite down with the loss of Anna, many already think the worst so I want to give them some hope. 

- Did I tell you that you are the most impressive person I know? - Honeymaren smiled sideways making, for a moment, blush the girl of fair complexion. - Look at yourself, you are going through everything and, even so, once for everyone around you. You are awesome, Elsa.

- I was not always like that - the guardian tried to excuse herself. 

- Maybe, but now you're better and I know you'll be even more. 

Honeymaren turned her brown gaze to her friend's blue, for a few seconds they lost themselves in the eyes of others, as if they were an answer they didn't know they needed, but the moment was very small. 

- I think I should let you prepare, I will go to see Heart and Sven and, later, I will come to see if you need help with that speech - Elsa smiled at that. 

- Okay -, the blonde opened the door and, before entering, turned her gaze to the rider one last time. - Honeymaren?

- Yes? 

- Thanks for being here. 

That said, Elsa went into her room leaving behind one, strangely, very happy Honeymaren who looked at Bruni and he simply smiled at her before going to sneak under the blonde's door. 

- You're welcome, Elsa. 

The news spread throughout Arendelle that her majesty, Elsa, had something to make known to everyone and that her presence was edited as soon as possible in the palace. Many villagers feared the worst, it looked like several people were leaving their homes with melancholy faces, many others with black clothes and bouquets. Everyone knew what was going to happen, they had already been through that once and having to repeat the experience again was not in the least pleasant, they could only thank that Elsa was still there with them, they knew they could trust her, that she would protect them from anything, including herself if necessary, but still, the pain of losing Anna, her queen, was still there. With slow and depressive pace, 

Elsa could see the people gathering slowly and tore her to see how everyone was there to give them the worst news, somehow she could not blame them, she herself thought the same when she read Kai's letter, so she should do her best of itself to change the situation. He looked at his suit one last time, it was a long dress with bare shoulders purple, had several ornaments in gold color running through the corset he wore and a light cape sprouted from the back, personally he would prefer to wear something more icy, but for now , this would work. She looked back and noticed Honeymaren leaning against the wall seeing them stunning, the brunette knew that Elsa was beautiful, but seeing her in a different clothes simply dislodged her, she was beautiful, but those thoughts kept them to herself. 

- List? - Asked the Northuldra. 

- List.  

Both left in the direction of the castle doors where Kai was waiting for them, who kindly opened them for both. Elsa went straight to the center of the exit while Honeymaren preferred to stay in a corner behind looking at everything like a spectator with Bruno on her shoulder, but always in sight of the blonde in case at any time she needed support. Elsa looked at the villagers, took a small breath to control her nerves and, with that melodious voice, began to speak.

- Dear people of Arendelle, I have gathered you here to tell you about what has happened. You will know that the whereabouts of my sister's ship, Queen Anna, are uncertain and that a search vessel has already been sent to find it, we have already been through this once and we had the worst imaginable result, you lost the Kings and I lost my parents. 

A moment of expectant silence was made, some adorable began to cry, others to take off their hats and a few to say one or another prayer, they knew what was coming, they knew what Elsa would say, but they did not know they were wrong. 

- But that does not mean that the tragedy has to be repeated again -, that made the villagers raised their faces to look at the blonde. - Yes, the ship is missing, but it does not mean that we have lost its queen, her friend, my sister. 

Elsa, with a quick gesture of hands, formed a snowflake large enough for all to see that she placed on the tip of the castle. 

- Anna was the one who for a long time gave me hope and had faith in me, faith that I would not become a monster, faith that I would find my place in this world and, now, I have faith in her, that she will return home with we - the blonde turned her gaze to the people who, now, seemed more alive. - That's why I also ask you to have faith in her. As long as that snowflake shines, the hope that Anna is healthy and saved and that she will return with us will be alive. I have already begun to take action for your search and I will not rest until I am back. In turn, in his absence, I will take the position of regent, not as his queen, but as his consultant, I will not let anything happen to you and I will always be here for you.