#and the ending i gotta rewrite still

[dyrewrites]

Pale Blood -- we like foul-mouthed faeries right?

The bloodbank glowered in the dreary hues of twilight.

But it wasn’t twilight. Soft pale yellows yet filtered through the smog…and not a ray touched the squat building. Nothing wrinkled its blanket of near-night, but all of it wrinkled Neph’s wings.

“Fuckin’ pebble said nothin’ ‘bout Goddesses,” they said to no one—well, perhaps the shiver that refused to leave their wings. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere reeks that thick of tree-bitch.” Neph’s eyes twitched with the suggestion they might renege on a promise and they screamed, “Fuck!”

No one heard, no one was around to hear. No cabs, no pedestrians, no synthcats mewling in the alley, no drones docked above the bloodbank doors—where they rightfully should have been—no one and nothing.

Save the hunger and the muffled sounds of screams.

“Yeah, no, fuck this,” Neph told those sounds, that gnawing hunger threatening to spill from the doors—their glass too dark to see what splattered it. “No way Del’s in there. He’s got ears, he can use em.”

Neph waited until they were four stretched blocks from the bloodbank—safely tucked behind a planter on a fire escape—before they called.

When the line beeped, Neph spoke first, “Hey, fangless.”

“What I do now?” Delmas asked, voice light—one might say giggly.

“Nothing yet, but I’m sure you’re workin’ to somethin’,” Shaking residual shivers, Neph dropped their usual combativeness—they would say ‘spirit’—and spoke as plain as they could, “But I’m callin’ for your boss. He gave me a shiny bauble to give to your decidedly less shiny ass. So where the fuck are you, I’d like to get back to my ogre-shaped bed.”

“Up top,” Delmas said, muttering for someone to stop something and Neph groaned until he paid attention to them again, “this that important?”

“Does a gift from daddy departed sound important?”

That stopped whatever was happening on the other end of the call—making up was happening, much to the chagrin of the third party in the elevator—and Delmas’ tone came through steeped in concern, “We got business in the Mer District, meet us here?”

Neph laughed, “I ain’t beatin’ one wing nowhere near that cage. How ‘bout you hit me up in Ogretown after?”

Delmas sighed and took too many seconds to answer, “My clearance don’t cover Ogretown today.”

“You got a witch with you, don’t ya?” Neph snapped, the purple spark and stink of Dusk as bright and full through the link as if the witch were standing there with them.

“How do you know we got a witch here?” Delmas asked.

And Neph grinned with the twinge in the magic, the fear from the witch, “Wylds shines Wylds, halfwit, jus’ bring her with you. This thing reeks of Goddess anyway...might be sharp of ya to let her see it first.”

Slow, confused, Delmas agreed, “Alright, I dunno how long we’ll be but I’ll call after.”

“Don’t waste the breath,” Neph clipped, the stench of Twilight reaching from the bloodbank to their hideaway, “jus’ come get this thing off me soon as you can ‘fore I throw it in the Faetear. And check on your ghoul, somethin’ ain’t right at your leechpit.”

[trashquisitor-shirozora]

Was browsing through early BOBF/Mando S3 criticisms on Tumblr and WOW, 93% of S2’s viewership dropped when S3 finished airing for an extremely understandable reason. As someone who got into Dinluke after all the dust settled I can only imagine what it was like becoming invested in Din’s story and being floored by the S2 finale only for it to get totally swerve-balled after a long-anticipated wait. How did you avoid the disappointment and burnout?

Spite is an incredibly powerful motivator, let me tell you.

I'm halfway joking about that, btw. I could say I'm used to disappointment and I also worked really hard not to take things too personally after being disappointed time and again year after year by fandoms I was in. Imo the healthiest attitude is that no show/movie/book/videogames/etc will ever play out the way you want/think it should so take what you can get and trash the rest. By the time I started watching The Mandalorian, I'd been burnt badly by Star Trek AOS, the Sequel Trilogy, the MCU, and the Disney machine, and I had to figure out how to accept that I like what I like, I can't change what I can't change, and I can/will run the fuck off with what I can change, which is making wildly fun and fulfilling transformative shit like fanfics and fanart.

I was actually excited about TBOBF and was utterly betrayed by the executive decision to throw him and Fennec to the side in order to absolutely trash the Season 2 finale of the Mando Show by having Din and Grogu reunite just like that. I guess I got lucky in that I had a long-running fic series that I was heavily invested in and I was not about to let Disney stop me from finishing it. Instead of letting my frustrations kill my interest in the show and fandom, I turned it into motivation to keep telling the story I wanted to tell based on the fallout of Season 2. It also helped that Andor happened.

I quit Season 3 of the Mando Show after the 1st episode and it was the best decision I ever made. I had a really rough time with it and was encouraged to step away if it was giving me too much stress. I'm glad for that. Less time and energy picking about Filoni&Favreau and Disney Lucasfilm's decisions and disappointments, more time and energy spent writing and drawing the dinluke I want to see. The nice thing about Star Wars is that it is an old and vast sandbox. Plenty of room here to build whatever sandcastles and dig however many holes you want while canon goes floundering by.

I think also that it really helped to find spaces to share with people who vibe on the same wavelength, so I'm not alone to my thoughts and spiraling myself out of a fandom I enjoyed (like what happened with TLJ but I shan't go there bc this response is long enough). Those posts about having friends you can shit-talk things with? Valid af. You need outlets to vent your grievances without setting bridges on fire, and it'll help your enjoyment of things in the long run.

I didn't avoid the disappointment but I figured out how to make something of it, so I'm still writing dinluke, I'm still drawing dinluke, I'm still getting giddy over dinluke. I actively choose to do what I want with them, and nothing Disney Lucasfilm puts out is ever going to stop me.

[koka-mi]

My grandma is coming over to do a bit of my hair. I'm sooo tempted to bring my tablet with me so I can work on my kyosaya drafts while she does it, but if she happens to look over my shoulder like the NOSY MF SHE IS she's def gonna notice the homoromanticism goin on there if she looks at the wrong time. am I willing to risk that.........

[bonefall]

Thistle Law

The most extreme, violent interpretation of the Warrior Code, initially founded by Thistleclaw near the end of the Campaign Era, with its first implementation defining the beginning of the Slash-and-Burn Period.

One of three distinct Clan ideologies, next to Fire Alone and Traditionalism.

A guide to its origin, the parable associated with it, its principles, and most importantly, my authorial intentions with it in the Bonefall Rewrite. Seen a couple of questions about it, so I think this’ll help clarify.

Origin

Extreme interpretations of the Code go back as far as the founding of the clans themselves, but the roots of Thistle Law trace back to the Exile of SkyClan. Justifying the loss of an entire clan included cracking down on medicine cats and quashing a rebellion, and the ‘clan pride tide‘ added FOUR new laws to the Warrior Code.

The following wars and conflicts in the Chivalric Period further contributed to xenophobic sentiment in the Clans, with each one vying for supremacy over the others, branching out to attack non-Clan cats when there were brief stints of ‘peace’. Thistleclaw merely gave these ideas a name while educating his apprentice, using thistles as a metaphor.

Tigerclaw then went on to tell the story to his clanmates, to his own apprentices, and at gatherings to his future allies who told it to their own clanmates. Though the details of the story changed at times, the takeaway is constant;

Other cats must die, so yours can stay strong.

The Parable of the Thistle

The story goes that Thistleclaw brought Tigerpaw out to a massive, thorny bull thistle. He pointed out that the other plants were dying around it, but the flowers stood tall and proud. Thistleclaw explained the thistle was killing the plants around it to have more room to grow, and then cruelly commanded that Tigerpaw try to destroy it.

By the time it was done, Tigerpaw was covered in scratches and the sun was setting. All the way home, he tried to shake the thistlefluff out of his fur and forget the painful experience. The seasons turned, and one year later when Tigerclaw was a young warrior, Thistleclaw led him down a path lined with young, thorny leaves.

There, in a sea of green spikes, the thistle was standing as tall and as proud as the day Tigerpaw shredded it.

In killing every other plant in the area, the thistle had given itself room to come back stronger. The fluff that clung to Tigerpaw’s fur became new growth. Around them was an entire clearing of thistles, ready to burst into a wall of flowers and seeds.

Thistleclaw asked if Tigerclaw would dare to try again, and remembering how his last battle with the weed ended with scratches as deep as claw marks, admitted that he would rather be a thistle than fight one.

(Little did Ivypaw know, the beautiful field in which she meets Hawkfrost was completely strangled by flowering thistles.)

Principles

Depending on the exact time period and the cat it takes root in, Thistle Law can look different. For examples, Brokenstar’s goal was to drive every Clan out of the forest except ShadowClan, where Tigerstar’s aim was to annex every clan into TigerClan and enforce a standard of purity.

Incarnations of Thistle Law tend to share these principles,

The Code Hardens The calling card of Thistle Law is a stricter, more violent interpretation of the Warrior Code. The harsher laws are emphasized, such as the Law of Loyalty and the Right of the Challenge, while softer ones are downplayed or dropped entirely, like the Law of Honor and the Queen’s Rights.

Extreme Xenophobia Against outsiders, against cats of other clans, against half-clan cats. Thistle Law sets itself apart from Traditionalism for becoming willing to enforce some sort of purity.

Hierarchy Becomes Rigid The social power of medicine cats, deputies, and elders is suppressed. The leader is raised as the ultimate authority, even if that leader isn’t the Clan’s -star.

There Is No ‘Pointless’ Death The Clans are a battle culture, but a good battle is still fought for a reason. When tides turn to Thistle Law, fighting is the goal AND the means. To live is to battle, to kill is to win, and a warrior’s purpose is to die at war.

Each incarnation likely contains each point in varied amounts and tosses other ideas into the mix, but the name of the game remains the same-- and it springs from the taproot of Thistle Law.

Intentions

Thistle Law is what fascism looks like in Clan culture. I approach this using Umberto Eco’s 1995 essay Ur-Fascism as my primary reference. Ur-fascism is a ‘fuzzy‘ concept that looks very different depending on the exact society it springs from, mixing and matching several symptoms in varying degrees of severity.

So, in adapting this, I had to simplify a very complicated topic. I wanted to keep the antifascist theory recognizable, while still following canon events and creating an engaging rewrite.

So for simplicity sake, even if a clan might have technically called their own version of Thistle Law something else, I use this name to address it.

[malicesofmagic]

I finished my webcomic outline today

[starcrossedandstupid]

I yearn for death

[absoloutenonsense]

-

[zombieweek-g]

spent basically all new years day watching the entirety of flux and honeslty for a series written entirely by chinball it actually wasn’t even as bad as his eps from series 12. Half looking forward to moving on to the specials and finishing off this whole era

[gregmarriage]

wirsch and hambsgans found dead in seattle

[johndonneswife]

WOW congrats on your wedding! When are you getting married? And if you have advice to give how do I feel comfortable in a long term relationship as a depressed and anxious gay lol my biggest fear is that my girlfriend will cheat on me or get bored and I don’t know how to overcome that

thank u 🤍🥹 we are getting married this summer :)

i don’t think i have any helpful advice tbh i am way too trusting and have always worn my heart on my sleeve so i honestly can’t relate to feeling anxious or fearing that my partner will cheat on me…but because you have already identified these patterns in yourself that means you can work on them and maybe heal your inner child/attachment issues? and like…just let yourself be loved and stop questioning why?

[nerdygirl2023]

Call I love what I do end up writing because then I get to reread it and I’m like “ I WROTE THAT! ITS GREAT!  all the feels I wanted to share are there!!! Yay!!!”

[valkyrjuk]

huehuehue I finished my FUCKING book again just now. I mean there's still an epilogue to write but I'm gonna do that bit when I'm done editing for a first draft.

[petertingle-yipyip]

DONT BE A FOOL - MATT MURDOCK

Pairing: matt x wife!reader

Word Count: 2, 156

Summary: After a very tense argument about a misused name, your apologetic husband ends up getting looped in by your students.

//follow-up to three empty words but can probably be read on its own. i realize i lost the original plot so if it’s too bothersome, i’ll rewrite it// rewrite/part three?

The next morning, you refused to dilly dally your morning routine. Your shower was quick, your hair and makeup remained simple. Even your outfit was more or less the first thing you grabbed from your closet. You gathered all of your papers - which you hadn’t gotten around to grading the night before - and your laptop before Matt’s alarm had even gone off.

You skipped making breakfast, deciding to stop at a coffee shop on the way to work instead, and hustled out the door. You ignored the still sleeping figure of Elektra on your couch even though your brain wanted to soak her with cold water and kick her out. You did slam the door on your way out but that was just to satisfy your own anger.

You walked into your classroom and let out a loud sigh as you dropped into your deskchair. You were thankful to be out of the house, in your own space for the time being. As you began grading the papers and piling them according to the hours, your mind wandered back to the night before. You wondered if Elektra would be out of your apartment when you got back. You wondered if Matt would tell Foggy and Karen that you two got into a fight last night. You then found yourself wondering if Matt was actually going to go to work that morning.

You realized you were staring blankly at the student’s worksheet in front of you so you shook the thoughts and focused on the daunting stacks before you.

Most of the hours were business as usual. Your normal rowdy students were a bit extra, but that might’ve been due to your already grated nerves more than their own behaviors. It wasn’t until the hour before lunch that you found some of your students more huddled and secretive than usual.

“What are you doing in the corner?” You called, peaking over your computer at the small group. “There’s, what, five minutes till the bell?”

“Mrs. Murdock, what’s your husband’s name?” One of the girls, Liv, asked with an innocent expression. The same one she gave you when she explained her lacking assignments.

“Matthew.” You titled down your screen to see them better. “Why?”

“What does he do again?”

“Lawyer. Why?”

“Is he handsome?” Another girl, Nicole, asked with wiggling eyebrows.

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes at your middle schoolers.

“Yes, very.” You smiled slightly. “I wouldn’t have married him if he wasn’t.”

“And if he’s a lawyer, he’s gotta be smart, right?”

“Again, very. He went to Columbia.”

“So like… Is he why you’re so sad today?” Blake, the only boy in the group, chimed in with a nonchalant shrug.

“Guys.” You frowned slightly. “I’m not sure what you’re doing, but I’m not sad. Me and Mr. Murdock are fine. We’re happily married. And you should be worried about your own relationship drama, not mine.”

“So you admit there’s drama?” Nicole countered quickly.

“Between Blake and Emmy? Yes.” You nodded and Emmy’s jaw dropped while her friends poked her teasingly. “Between me and Mr. Murdock, no.”

“Mhmm.. So why is the photo face down?”

“What?”

“The photo by your computer.” She came across the room and lifted the frame near your laptop that was in fact, face down. “You told us on the first day that this was one your favorite photos and you have it on it’s face… There’s drama, Mrs. Murdock.”

“You’re very observant, Nicole. Thank you.” You said flatly as you took the frame from her hands and set it in it’s rightful position. “I must’ve knocked it over when I was trying to find you and Liv’s missing portfolio project.” “You can’t deflect, Mrs. M.” Liv added from across the room. “It’s all over your face.”

“Y’know what.” You announced, standing from your desk. “The bell rings in less than two minutes. You guys can all go to lunch early.”

A chorus of questions arose while you heard the door being pushed open.

“They can’t write you all up.” You shrugged and dropped back in your chair while the meddling group made their way into the hall.

The girls continued to whisper to themselves and glanced back at you, to which you shooed them away. When you were finally alone in your classroom, you let out a heavy sigh and rubbed a hand over your eyes.

Usually, you adored having open communication with your students because that meant they trusted you. But at the same time, that meant they felt entitled to know your life story whether you like it or not. The bell echoed in your ears so you spun your chair to the small fridge under your desk that held your lunch.

You clicked play on a playlist from your laptop and began eating your lunch, typing away to enter in grades. You knew you should just do nothing, scroll mindlessly on your social medias instead or maybe even call Foggy to ensure Matt made it to work, but the busy work for your eyes, head, and hands felt better. Plus, you weren’t exactly sure what you would’ve said that could’ve gotten your question answered without being a dead giveaway. So you kept working instead.

“MRS. MURDOCK!” Liv nearly yelled as she burst through your door, maybe halfway through the lunch hour. “OHMYGODYOULLNEVERBELIEVE-”

“Liv!” You said in shock, nearly dropping your water bottle. “What is going on? Is everything okay?”

“Look at this!” She hurried across and showed you her phone screen. Oddly enough, it was a photo of the back of a man exiting a taxi. What stood out to you was the white cane in his hand.

“It’s a guy getting out a cab.” You tried to reason, gently pushing her phone away. “That’s what you ran in here to tell me?”

“But he’s blind!”

“So it seems.”

“Don’t you know what this means?” She insisted with a small stomp.

You simply shrugged and raised your brows.

“It’s Mr. Murdock! He came to apologize!”

“Liv, I appreciate your concern for my marriage but we’re fine, okay? It’s not like he and I are heading towards a divorce. We’re just in a bit of an argument. It’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? Because I’ve never seen you so…” She gestured vaguely to you.

“Yes, I’m sure. Now go back to your lunch, please. I have to finish these.”

“But-”

“No.”

“Mrs. M, just-”

“Liv, boundaries, please.”

“Just listen!”

“No.” You said firmly. “Go back to your lunch.”

She huffed slightly but retreated to the door. As she was heading out, she nearly ran into one of the monitors.

“Sorry to intrude, Y/N.” The monitor said as she popped her head in. “I have a visitor for you.”

“Another one of my kids being a problem?” You sighed and wheeled yourself a bit further from your desk. “Send ‘em in. They can sit in the corner till next class.”

“Actually, I think you’ll be glad to see this one.” She smiled knowingly and reached for something outside the doorframe.

Before you could voice another question, she ushered Matt through the door. He said his usual thanks for being guided and the monitor gave you an approving nod and thumbs up. She mouthed a very not subtle ‘He’s very handsome’. You smiled awkwardly in agreement but once the door closed, you rolled your eyes and went back to your gradebook.

“Could’ve called.” You said simply.

“I didn’t think you would answer.” Matt replied honestly.

“Probably wouldn’t have… Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I couldn’t focus.”

You heard the clicks of him folding his cane as he wandered around your classroom. You peaked up to watch him manueaver the desks with such ease that for a split second, you forgot he was blind. You watched him run his fingers along the bulletin board you had on one wall, leading into the standards and other required signage you had up.

“Did she leave?” You asked and returned to your prior task. You knew if you watched him for too long, he’d know and he’d show you that stupid lopsided smirk that he did.

“She was still pretty weak when I left.” He said and there was a slight sadness in his voice. Though if someone asked if it was for Elektra or your argument, you wouldn’t have been able to say. “But I did ask Stick to find somewhere else to take her to recover if she can’t leave on her own by the time someone gets home.”

“Chivalrous.” You made a face behind your computer screen. “You didn’t have to come all the way here to tell me that.”

He sighed slightly and you mumbled a short complaint to yourself before scooting away from your desk and spinning in your chair to face him, just as he appeared at your side. You folded your hands over your stomach and leaned back in your chair, giving an exaggerated sigh and nod for him to talk.

“Y/N, last night, I said something I shouldn’t have.” He began carefully, as if he was following a carefully rehearsed speech. For all you knew, he had rehearsed it with Foggy that morning before he showed up. “I let Stick push me and I just said the first thing that came to mind.”

“But she shouldn’t be the first thing, right?” You said softly with a small shrug. “Stick shouldn’t be able to push you into saying that, whether you meant it or not.”

“You’re right.” He admitted and your brows went up slightly. “I shouldn’t have said that. You are the only woman that I want to be with. I married you, without any hesitation. I never had second thoughts or second thoughts or anything. You, Y/N Murdock, have my heart.”

You nodded slowly but said nothing as you stood. You crossed your arms and looked up at him, him offering a hopeful expression in return. You broke into a small smile and nudged him with your shoulder before moving past him. He followed you almost instantly and you took him to the wall on the other side of your desk near the window.

“The kids started calling this the Sweetheart’s Spotlight.” You said quietly with a small smile. “They keep a polaroid camera in one of the cubbies and every Friday, they rearrange the couples in order of their favorites… They made me put a photo of us on here, too.”

“Where do we rank?” He smiled slightly.

“We’ve been number one since it started.” You laughed. “They tell me that you’re the best by default since I’m their favorite teacher.”

“Lucky me.”

“You know I’m still upset, right?” You said carefully when the air was too light between you two.

“I know.” He nodded. “I can hear it in your voice.”

“But I also don’t want to hold onto this fight. So here’s an idea. Elektra’s out of the apartment today. You two finish whatever crusade you’re on. You make sure you don’t get yourself killed. She leaves New York and it’s all put to bed.”

“Consider it done.” He nodded. “And I know better than to get myself killed. I’ve got it too good to die.”

“Yeah because then I’m a widow and there’s not much life insurance to cash in on.” You joked as the lunch bell rang.

“I should get going.” He nodded before gently taking your hand. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too.” You said softly as your students started filing in.

“OHMYGOD.” One of your students yelled and you closed your eyes tightly, quietly groaning in embarrassment. “IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS?”

“Yes, Luna.” You said, feeling the blush across your cheeks. “This is Mr. Murdock and he’s leaving.”

You pulled Matt towards the door as he laughed. Your kids yelled questions that you tried to ignore until Matt stopped, pulling you to stop with him.

“It’s career week!” One of the boys yelled. More so a demand.

“I’m aware, Jack.” You nodded. “What does that have to do with this?”

“He’s not here to talk to us about lawyers?” The boy’s head cocked as he asked his question.

“That’s exactly why I’m here.” Matt grinned and you groaned again. “Let’s give Mrs. Murdock a break, right?”

“You’re so dead.” You threatened quietly with a laugh before heading back to your chair. 

“Okay, kids.” You announced. “He’s blind and can’t write. I’m not getting up. Take your own notes and keep your questions relevant to his career, okay?”

“Yes, Mrs. Murdock.” They all answered.

“All yours, Mr. Murdock.” You gestured before returning to grading and the personal questions started flying.

“How did you guys meet?!”

“What’s her favorite color?!”

“Did you see the wall?!” “He can’t see!”

“Are they always this rowdy?” He asked you with a slight laugh.

“You’re new and exciting.” You shrugged. “Take it as a compliment.”

[phibixm]

I'm writing a fanfiction (roswell new mexico) but I'm writing it very slowly because I decided on some wordcount goals for all the non-november months and December's is 12400 (400/day). I'm hella behind because I didn't decide this until the 11th. So I'm doing like 600/day to catch up which is. Still not very many. We'll see how this goes

[chucky-vs-the-giant-tortoise]

tangled

JJ Maybank x toddler!sister!reader

(REQUEST): thinking of baby sister maybank maybe being 1-2 and jj is really struggling with her hair, and he wants her hair out of her face but doesn’t know what to do. so sarah and kie step in

warning(s): N/A

a/n: thank you for the request, m'love. if i'm being honest i may rewrite this in the future because i have unfortunately had very little motivation to write this week. :( but even still i hope that you enjoy.

also, to everyone who has written me a request, i promise i'm working on them! they should all hopefully be finished by this week or the next.

“Ow!” Y/N squeaked, her plump digits failing to swat away JJ’s hands.

Her elder brother huffed, struggling to tame the toddler’s head of unruly curls. It was hard enough to pull all of the odds and ends of her hair into a ponytail far too small for his large fingers–let alone when she was intervening in the already troublesome process. 

“I know, I know,” JJ said, instinctively jutting out one of his hands to keep a wriggling Y/N from jumping out of his lap. He just barely managed to foil yet another one of her escape attempts. “You’ve just gotta sit still for a minute, peanut. Almost done.”

Y/N continued to whine, squinting against the harsh sun whilst JJ fiddled around with an elastic band in several failed attempts to create a functioning ponytail. The task only got harder as time trekked on—Y/N was antsy to join Kie and Sarah up at the bow of the HMS Pogue, and the more she tried to squirm her way to freedom, the worse JJ’s makeshift ponytails became.

“Jesus, dude. What the Hell are you doin’ to our mini Pogue, huh?” John B teased from the helm after several minutes of Y/N’s aggravated complaints, tonguing his cheek in amusement.

JJ had managed to get a good chunk of Y/N’s hair held sturdily away from her face, but several of her thick curls still fell like a veil over her large blue eyes. 

“Don’t listen to him, Jay. You’re a pro,” Pope laughed from behind him. JJ glared from behind the lenses of his shades.

“Ha-ha-fucking-ha. You ever tried to do this shit, man? It’s harder than it looks.”

The girls laughed as they caught a glimpse of JJ’s masterpiece. Y/N pouted, blonde curls spilling over her chubby face. “Need some help over there, Jay?” Kiara finally asked, taking pity on JJ who now wore a nearly identical pout to his baby sister. 

The boy sighed, running a hand through his own hair. “Please.” He scooped up his sister and carefully set her down on her unstable feet. “She’s all yours.”

Y/N, content with her newfound freedom, barrelled over to where her favourite Pogues had been sitting all afternoon: lounging around as they tanned and took swigs from their respective beers. Sarah laughed as the young girl fell onto her legs, wasting no time in sitting the little firecracker between herself and Kie.

“Wow,” Sarah said, observing the elder Maybank’s work up close. It was worse than she thought. “JJ really did a number on you, huh?”

“Jay bad at hair!” Y/N accused, brows furrowed in annoyance as she pointed a crude finger at her big brother. JJ rolled his eyes.

“Did better than you could've, peanut.” Y/N stuck out her tongue in response, and the girls chuckled as JJ reciprocated her gesture.

“Don’t worry, Y/N/N. We’ll take care of it,” Kie said, carefully undoing JJ’s handiwork without so much of a wince from the toddler. Sarah dipped into her bag to find a hairbrush and the few extra elastics she always kept on hand. “Gonna make you look so pretty, bub.”

“Promise?” The little girl beamed up at her, and Kie lightly pinched at her cheek.

“Promise.”

It took an embarrassingly short period of time for Kie and Sarah to get Y/N’s hair in order, brushing it into two braided pigtails on either side of her small head. The smile never left Y/N’s face as they worked, efficient and gentle in their process—the complete opposite to JJ’s hectic routine.

“Alrighty,” Sarah declared as she manoeuvred the final hairband, twisting the elastic a few extra times around the toddler’s braid to keep it in place. “You’re all done, Y/N!”

“I look pretty?” Y/N asked, eyes shining with anticipation. Kiara tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

“The prettiest.”

Y/N wasted no time in toddling back over to where JJ was now busy talking to the other two boys, her cheeks dimpled with pride.  “Jay!” She cheered, bouncing with excitement. The blond looked down at her, a grin breaking out over his face as he caught sight of his baby sister’s new hairdo. “Pretty?”

JJ chuckled, lifting her back into his lap and pressing a sloppy kiss to her nose.

“Beautiful as ever, munchkin.” Y/N wrapped her small arms around his bronzed shoulders, and JJ gave another quick kiss to her temple. “What’d’ya say we get Kie and Sarah to do your hair all the time now, huh?”

He barely had enough time to complete his sentence as an empty beer can came flying at his shoulder, thrown by a now smirking Kiara.

“You wish, Maybank!”

[stxrslut]

WAITING FOR YOU ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

pairing; rafe x sweetie reader

summary; rafe has been neglecting you recently, putting his work before all, you haven’t had any attention for yourself. you finally reach a breaking point on the night where you prepare everything, make everything perfect, and he doesn’t even bat an eyelid.

content; emotional neglect(?), argument

authors note; decided to rewrite an old blurb. I’m really happy with how it turned out

tonight will be perfect, you’re sure of it. ever since rafe had taken on more responsibilities at work you had been pushed to the sidelines a little, but tonight you can’t wait to be his centre of attention. 

you have everything ready, you’ve made a lovely meal and set it out on a candlelit table with his favourite bottle of wine ready to open. 

you’re dressed up too. a cute little dress on, and underneath some even cuter lingerie. your makeup is done nicely, all waterproof of course, if all goes to plan, you expect to be in floods of blissful tears by the end of the night.

you hear rafe come through the front door just as you add your final touches to the dinner table. you immediately stand up and scurry down the hallway to meet him. 

“good evening rafe,” you beam, ready to see him, though your smile falls a bit when you come into contact with him. 

he’s got an armful of paperwork and he looks run down, like has constantly for weeks now. you push past it though, this night is going to be good for him too, he needs the break. 

“hey sweetheart,” he mumbles absently, immediately making it clear that his mind is on other matters, “look, can you give me like half an hour? just got somethin’ I need to sort out real quick.” he doesn't even wait for an answer, he's already making to climb the stairs towards his office.

you stop him of course, placing a hand on his arm. “wait, I made dinner, it'll go cold.” you feel crestfallen, sure you knew he'd want to work, but right in the door? he didn't even take a moment to look at how nicely dressed up you are.

rafe stops and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose he speaks in mild frustration, “yeah, yeah I'll eat with you okay? but then I do really have to work.” 

you nod, leading him towards the kitchen where the table is set. you pull out a chair, urging him to sit and he does, watching you idly as you walk round and take your own place. “I made your favourite,” you beam. in honesty, making his favourite isn't that much of a feat, he's a very basic eater. but it's the thought that counts. 

it's a quiet meal. rafe doesn't pay that much attention, only giving absent and short answers to the questions you ask. his day was fine. work was fine. his plans are to do work stuff. he's feeling fine. the meal is fine. if he could have bothered to ask, you would have told him that you are not fine with any of those answers. it's like he doesn't care that you did this for him. 

the moment he’s finished he rises, scratching the back of his neck he speaks, “I gotta go.. do some admin.. food was good.” 

“rafe wait…” you stop him from where you still sit at the table. you’ve not even finished your food yet and he’s already leaving. “I thought that we could maybe go upstairs.. spend some time together.” you make it so obvious in your tone as to what you’re suggesting. 

he sighs, “maybe later okay? maybe later.” and just like that he’s walking away, just like he has been doing for weeks on end. 

                               *

later, you are laying on your bed, half asleep, waiting for him.

the candle on the bedside table is almost burned out, it’s ugly now. you are undressed, still putting up with the uncomfortable underwear on your body, just so you can look good when he comes in.

it must be nearly eleven o’clock at night when you finally hear his footsteps coming down the hallway. you quickly do your best to wake yourself up and reassume the position you were laying in before. 

when rafe comes through the door he stops, looking a little stunned, “why aren't you asleep?” he asks bluntly. that certainly wasn't what you were expecting. not even a little bit of praise, not a thirsty look, nothing. 

“are you serious?” you sit up, now you’re frustrated. he’s been pushing you aside for so long, and he can’t even acknowledge what you’re doing for him. 

“what do you mean, am I serious? what the fuck is all this?” he gestures to the room, the lowered lights, the candle, you. 

“it’s for you.” you frown, “I thought you’d want- I thought you would like this. I thought you’d be happy.” 

“baby I didn’t ask you to do any of this.” he says crossly, “I have other things to focus on.. I- I’ve got work! I don’t have time for this.” 

this is your breaking point, tears begin to slip down your cheeks, “you never have time for this. that’s the problem.”

his eyes land on you, “problem? you have a problem? I’m a grown man now, I have responsibilities.. I have to make priorities.”

“well they’re wrong! your priorities are wrong!” you snap, sitting up on the bed to lock eyes with him, “I should be a priority. but— but you’ve just been pushing me away all because of work! we haven’t had sex in weeks and.. and you barely talk to me anymore!” you start to rant, “I’ve put so much effort into making tonight perfect and you haven’t even bothered to thank me! I’m tired, and I want to spend time with you. I miss you rafe!” 

It’s silent for a few seconds before he lets out a weary sigh, “that’s what all this is about huh? I’m neglecting you.” 

you sniffle pitifully, “that’s not what I said.” 

he shakes his head and comes to sit down on the bed with you, “what you meant though,” he looks down at his lap for a moment before patting his leg, “c’mere.” 

you reluctantly crawl into his lap, resting your messy cheek on his covered chest. he starts to speak again, “I’m sorry. I.. I will admit that I haven’t been paying enough attention to you.. okay.. I’ll change that. promise.” 

part of you wants to snap again and say ‘see! how easy was that to admit! why did it take you so fucking long!?” 

you don’t snap though, you don’t have the energy. instead you murmur and go closer to him, “m’sorry for gettin’ mad at you rafe.” 

he shakes his head, “just missed me, I know.” he rubs your back, before pulling you to face him. “hey.. think it would be a bit of a shame for you to have got this dressed up for nothin’ huh?”